In this article, we demystify the South African Defence Force’s 32 Battalion and de-exceptionalize the apartheid military by connecting it to other colonial military communities, and apartheid governance more broadly. Drawing on oral history, autoethnography, and archival documents, we demonstrate the highly unequal, yet mutual, reliance of white authorities and elite Black women in the haphazard and improvised nature of apartheid military rule. Most women arrived at the unit's base, Buffalo, as Angolan refugees, where white military authorities fixated on their domestic and family lives. We examine the practical workings of military rule by considering three nodes of social surveillance and control. Elite Black women, known as “block leaders,” served as intermediaries, actively participating in the mechanics of military rule while also using their position to advocate for their community. Finally, we consider the ingrained violent patriarchal nature of life in the community by highlighting the nature of women's precariousness and labor.

Focusing on the first decades of the twentieth century but acknowledging longer-term patterns of circulation, this paper discusses how cattle, historically occupying important meanings and roles in the lives of African agropastoralists, was commodified and marketed in southern Mozambique just as Lourenço Marques became the new capital of Mozambique. Highlighting the relations that consolidated between the capital and surrounding cattle-rich areas in a period marked by cattle disease but also the First World War and the Great Depression, the paper looks at the role of different agents and bodies involved in the emerging beef market. Ultimately, the paper shows how African agropastoralists, the main cattle producers in the region, resisted these conditions and tried to engage with markets on their own terms, even in the face of their dwindling control over the different factors that influenced the size and quality of their herds.

Transfrontier conservation landscapes, such as the Kavango–Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area (KAZA TCA) in southern Africa, play a crucial role in preserving global biodiversity and promoting the sustainable development of local communities. However, resources to facilitate management could become scarce across large areas, leading to difficulties in obtaining baseline ecological information. Consequently, in the absence of sustainable management vast landscapes may experience loss of wildlife species, which could destabilize ecosystems. This effect is particularly significant if the loss involves top predators. Hence, understanding carnivore distributions is critical to informing management. We conducted a mammal survey in the Ondjou Conservancy in Namibia, an 8,729 km2 understudied area in the south-west of the KAZA TCA. We analysed camera-trapping data from a 2,304 km2 grid and identified high carnivore richness (18 species) despite widespread human activity and prey depletion. Using a multi-species occupancy framework we found that carnivore occurrence increased with increasing distance from the main village and with closer proximity to the Nyae Nyae Conservancy neighbouring the KAZA TCA, which has large and diverse carnivore populations. Carnivore occurrence was higher when local prey richness was high. The Ondjou Conservancy could function as an important buffer for the larger conservation network, yet rural communities in this area require support for fostering human–wildlife coexistence. Additionally, restoring the natural prey base will be critical to ensuring the long-term viability of carnivore populations in this and other human-impacted landscapes. With many remote areas of transfrontier conservation landscapes being understudied, our findings illustrate the conservation potential of such areas within large-scale conservation networks.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the terrain of the diplomatic and security landscape of Southern Africa shifted dramatically. South Africa declared various Bantustans “independent,” but they were not recognized by other countries. Small regional states like Lesotho increasingly took more combative diplomatic stances, aided by Cold War connections and, in this case, a local border dispute. This article examines a proposed ski resort that South Africa wanted to build in the QwaQwa Bantustan on Lesotho's border starting in 1975. Because of Lesotho's diplomatic and military escalation, the Khoptjoane resort was never built, but the lengthy dispute contributed to the sidelining of the apartheid regime's diplomats in favor of its securocrats. Thus, we argue the failed ski resort contributed to the atmosphere in which Pretoria greenlit the Maseru Massacre of 1982, presaging the apartheid regime's increased 1980s willingness to use its military superiority against township residents and Southern African neighbors alike.

Two articles by Garenne (2023a,b) argue that voluntary medical male circumcision does not reduce human immunodeficiency virus transmission in Africa. Here we point out key evidence and analytical flaws that call into question this conclusion.

In this wide-ranging conversation, six scholars of South Africa detail threads of continuity and change in the historiographies, popular memories, archives, research agendas, methodologies, and within the South African academy and historical professional since the end of formal apartheid in 1994.

During its decade-long war (1964–74) against Portuguese colonialism, Frelimo developed a language to express the style in which it imagined the nation. On taking power in 1975, Frelimo used this language — its watchwords — to signal the shared identity it aimed to instill within Mozambique. Frelimo asked Mozambicans to live in the future tense: to turn away from familiar idioms of belonging and embrace a sense of self and other untethered to past or present. The misalignment between this vision and its reception is most evident at local levels of administrative action, where people at lower rungs of the state received Frelimo's watchwords and creatively applied them, transforming ideas into practices. Many Mozambicans were unable or unwilling to accept Frelimo's vision, and as civil war engulfed more of the country in the early 1980s, Frelimo abandoned this nationalism, exchanging it for an idea of national community people could more easily imagine.

How has water shaped the history of a region that is bordered by ocean, brimming with ephemeral rivers, and yet prone to drought? This article explores water histories in Southern Africa over the past two hundred years. Using oral traditions, epic poetry, archival sources, and secondary anthropological and archaeological literature, I examine how Africans and Europeans related to, claimed, and used different bodies of water. In the first section I discuss how water was central to isiNguni conceptions of social and political life. In the second section I discuss how European empires used water to enclose and dispossess African land and to build hydropolitical colonial orders over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I conclude by reflecting on afterlives of these water histories in the present.

Comparative studies of inequality based on archaeological data rely on universal notions of status or prestige that are not always meaningful across diverse cultural contexts. Here, the authors evaluate three broadly contemporaneous urban communities (Marothodi, Molokwane and Kaditshwene) in the southern African interior in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries AD. The study combines a statistical measure of inequality, the Gini coefficient, with insights from the rich ethnohistorical archives of African knowledge systems. The results suggest markedly different levels of inequality, but contextualisation points to divergent social strategies for settlement organisation and for managing sociopolitical insecurity. The findings raise important questions about cross-cultural indices of social inequality.

Recent work on crime fiction has highlighted the genre’s increasingly transnational focus and the growing number of migrant detectives. Matsotsi, a little-known Nyanja text published in Zambia in the early 1960s, provides a much earlier example of this figure in Sergeant Balala, an Angolan detective fighting to contain the tsotsi menace in Johannesburg, South Africa. Matsotsi, however, does more than point to cross-border detection as a means of elucidating transnational relationships. Shonga and Zulu’s text manipulates the genres of the detective novel and the bildungsroman to tell a story about the relationships among the individual, the state, and the wider region at a key moment in southern African history, when Zambia and Malawi were on the cusp of independence. Although African language writing has often been considered too localized to be used for nationalist purposes, here it is mobilized for the purpose of state-making in a transnational context.