One of the most interesting problems of pre-colonial history is the relation of so-called secret societies to indigenous government. In West Africa they are concerned mainly with the ownership and use of supposedly supernatural medicines and the propagation of certain cults.

These are the functions also of other associations, but what principally distinguishes secret societies from the ordinary medicine society or cult is the esoteric basis of their activities. Not only do the secret societies employ particular rituals, signs, symbols, and forms of knowledge which are withheld from non-initiates, but these things are regarded as a special source of power through being kept private. Associations of this kind are prevalent in southern Nigeria, and are particularly numerous in the coastal area of rain-forest in general, including the Ivory Coast, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and parts of Ghana and Portuguese Guinea. They are not secret in any other respect. On the contrary, not only is the existence and general purpose of these societies known to every grown-up person, but in many places the wide range of their activities makes them the dominant social force. They are frequently responsible for tribal education, regulate sexual conduct, supervise political and economic affairs, and operate various social services, including entertainment and recreation as well as medical treatment.

In an article, ‘A Contribution to the Study of Zande Culture’, which appeared in Africa in 1960 (vol. xxx, no. 4), I discussed the certain or probable borrowing by the original Azande, the Ambomu, in the course of their migrations, of their main cultivated plants, e.g. eleusine, maize, ground-nuts, manioc, sweet potatoes, bananas, and tobacco, from assimilated or neighbouring peoples. In a second article, ‘A Further Contribution to the Study of Zande Culture’ (Africa, vol. xxxiii, no. 3, 1963), the discussion of cultural borrowings was taken into the field of artifacts and technology: building, smithery, pot-making, carving, plaiting, oracles, and medicines. In the present and final essay some examples are given of borrowing in areas of the social life other than those of cultivation of plants and the arts and crafts.

According to a partial census taken in 1960, Bamako city has about 130,000 inhabitants. Small by Western standards, it is still by far the largest city in Mali. At the time of the French conquest Bamako had only between 800 and 1,000 inhabitants; it was the capital of a Bambara chiefdom, grouping about thirty villages on the north bank of the Niger river, with a total of about 5,000 people. The ruling dynasty was that of the Niaré, who, according to their traditions, came from the Kingi eleven generations ago (between 1640 and 1700). For defence against the neighbours and armed slave-raiders fortifications were built around the town and a permanent army of so-fa (horsemen) was raised. Soon after its foundation Bamako attracted Moslem Moors from Twat who settled as marabouts and merchants under the protection of the Niaré's warriors. Among them, the Twati (later to be called Touré) and the Dravé became, alongside and sometimes in competition with the Niaré, the leading families.

Basutoland is administered by a unified and centralized hierarchical chieftainship (borena). At the head of the hierarchy stands the Paramount Chief, whose jurisdiction extends over the whole nation. Under him there are twenty-two Principal and Ward Chiefs, each having jurisdiction over the whole of his ward. In each principality there are a varying number of subordinate chiefs with their own (minor) wards, there being a total of about 460 such chiefs in the territory. The general effect is one of loose-fitting Chinese boxes, the loose fit being due to the fact that a chief (at any level of the hierarchy) does not grant the whole of his ward to subordinate chiefs but retains a part in his own hands, so that the sum of all the subordinate wards in any chiefdom is not as great as the totality of the superior ward of which they are parts.

The aim of this paper is to discuss certain aspects of the political organization of the Cape Nguni, with special reference to the formation of political units. Its preparation forms part of a larger study undertaken by the writer on the nature and direction of political development in the Transkeian Territories of the Republic of South Africa, which has culminated in the establishment of a system of what approximates to indirect rule based on indigenous structures, known as Bantu Authorities. It is one of the basic tenets of the study that in a situation in which indigenous populations are subjected to external control, and even more when traditional structures are themselves used as instruments of government, traditional premisses (to use a term of Maquet) must be taken into account. The acceptance, or otherwise, of authority must obviously depend to a large degree on traditional concepts of where authority resides, its sanctions, extent, and limitations. Some attempt at a reconstruction of the pattern of tribal governments as they were immediately before the imposition of White control was therefore necessary: this paper discusses a limited aspect of the problem—the formation of the political units themselves.

Credit is a vital economic institution without which trade becomes very limited. In the industrial Western societies, where it is highly developed, it operates through formal, standardized arrangements and procedures by which the solvency of the debtor is closely assessed, securities against possible default are provided, and the conditions of the agreement are documented and endorsed by the parties concerned. Ultimately, these arrangements and procedures are upheld by legislated rules and sanctions administered by central, bureaucratized, fairly impartial, efficient, and effective courts and police. In West Africa, on the other hand, where long-distance trade has been fostered by varying ecological circumstances, such organization has not yet evolved, particularly for long-distance trade. Nevertheless extensive systems of credit have been developed.

This paper is concerned with the limits to which exact genealogical tracing is JL carried among the Gusii, a Bantu-speaking people of western Kenya.

At the time of field-work (1946–9) the Gusii were a moderately prosperous peasant people subsisting by hoe culture and stock raising. They were isolated between non-Bantu peoples (Luo, Kipsigis, Masai) in mountain country near the Kavirondo Gulf of Lake Victoria. They had no central authorities, except those introduced by the British colonial administration, and no central cult; they were not stratified either by rank or by marked differences of wealth. A segmentary descent system, and a common code of law regarding marriage and compensation, held them together as a common society (see P. Mayer, 1949 and 1950).

Relations between neighbours simply in their capacity as neighbours rather than as kinsfolk, age-mates, or fellow subjects of a chief or headman have received relatively little consideration in the study of African tribal societies. In many cases this has clearly been determined by the nature of the ethnographic data. At least in the East African area, however, a concentration upon other principles of social organization seems occasionally to have diverted attention from neighbourhood relationships, so that we possess comparatively little information on this subject. In his penetrating and well-documented analysis of Soga state and kinship organization Fallers tells us that the Soga ‘peasant's daily interaction is largely carried out with his neighbours and in Busambira few of the latter are lineage-mates or, indeed, kinsmen of any kind’. We are, however, given no detailed account of this aspect of Soga society. In the case of the Toro we are informed that descent groups are generally not localized and that hunting, millet-planting, and beerbrewing were co-operative activities usually organized on a village or neighbourhood level. We are also told that traditional neighbourly values are becoming less important. Further details are, however, not presented.

The following text was recorded in 1953, in Lunyoro, by my assistant at that time, Mr. Edward Byaruhanga, a young man who had just finished secondary school. It is about a man called Matiyo (I have altered all the personal names) who decided, against his father's advice, to take a second wife, and it tells how this decision led to misfortune for Matiyo and his family. Traditionally in Bunyoro men liked to have two wives, or even more if they could afford to pay the bridewealth for them, and many still do. But it is well known that such joint households are not always happy ones, for two women who are competing for the favours of one man sometimes become jealous of each other, and this may lead to accusations of sorcery, even to violence, between them. Things are more difficult now than they were in traditional times, for many modern women, even in remote areas, have been to school for a year or two, and have learned to expect a more equal relationship with their husbands than their mothers enjoyed. Such a woman, after she is married, does not always look kindly on the arrival in her home of a second wife, especially if she is younger and prettier than she is. Also, more than half a century of Christian missionary activity has led, if not to the abandonment of polygyny, at least to the recognition that monogamy is the European ideal, and so—at least from the woman's standpoint—a status of rather higher prestige by modern standards. Many women leave their husbands, even after years of marriage, when they take second wives.

This article describes the kinship structure of some Lebanese communities in West Africa, and the resemblances they bear to the communities from which they originated in Lebanon. It also shows the extent to which kinship ties promote emigration, and the kind of trade partnership normally practised by kinsmen. Two communities are considered: the Greek Orthodox community in Ouagadougou (Upper Volta), and the Shi'ite Muslim community in Magburaka (Sierra Leone).

Depuis Morgan la relation de parenté ‘cousins croisés’ a été fréquemment observée et décrite ainsi que les formes diverses d'union préférentielle qui s'ensuivent. Mais que devient la relation de parenté par la suite? Comment évolue-telle entre les descendants de ces cousins et conjoints éventuels dans le cas, fréquent, où l'union matrimoniale ne se réalise pas entre eux? se retrouvent-ils frères et sœurs, tout comme si leurs parents respectifs (père des uns, mère des autres) s'étaient réellement mariés? restent-ils, au contraire, cousins croisés, dans la même relation de conjoints possible que leurs parents?

The Yoruba are generally believed to be the most urbanized of the peoples of tropical Africa, and certainly their propensity for living in large nucleated settlements is one of the most striking features of the settlement geography of the continent. It is not surprising, therefore, that the Yoruba town has attracted a considerable amount of attention from anthropologists, sociologists, and geographers alike. W. R. Bascom and others have emphasized the uniqueness, magnitude, and long history of urban development; W. B. Morgan, A. L. Mabogunje, and N. C. Mitchel have examined the functions and morphology of Yoruba towns; and certain sociologists, notably N. A. Fadipe and P. C. Lloyd, have discussed detailed aspects of Yoruba urban life. From all these writings one dominant feature has emerged: that Yoruba towns are ‘agricultural towns’ in the sense that they are agriculturally based and the product of intimate links between town and country. While it is true that most towns in pre-industrial societies tend to be linked with their immediate hinterlands, in so far as the excess of food production there makes their existence possible, Yoruba towns are linked to their hinterlands by even stronger ties, because the Yoruba living in the country traditionally looks upon the town as his real home and owes direct social allegiance to it.

This paper is the result of a study of all the known rock painting copies and photographs, undertaken during 1963 and early 1964—in the first instance to plot the occurrence of patterned giraffe paintings against those only in silhouette. The list has grown, however, and all animals and humans have been indexed and plotted on distribution maps, all information being finally synthesized. An analysis is presented of the human types and domesticated animals recorded in the art of Southern Africa. These items have been plotted on distribution maps, the significance of which is discussed in the following sections. The importance of the Mopani belt and of linguistics are also examined and a possible way from the east of Southern Rhodesia to the Cape of Good Hope indicated. The distribution of animal types is the subject of another paper (Cooke, 1964).

This paper reports the pattern of concubinage among Ngwa Igbo of south-eastern Nigeria. In this study attention is focused on: (i) the role of concubinage in the disposal of certain rights in women among the Ngwa Igbo, (ii) the folk evaluation of the status of the partners in this institution, and (iii) the strength of concubinage under the impact of acculturation.

Gicha Mbee, the author of the following report, is a member of the Mbugwe tribe of northern Tanganyika. I first met him, then a youth of about fifteen, in 1951 while doing an anthropological field study of the Mbugwe. I soon discovered that he was proficient at writing, although he had had only four years' schooling at the local mission school, and engaged him as an informant to write ethnographic texts. Since then he has corresponded with me and has continued to send me ethnographic material written in Swahili—about 700 pages altogether, including a detailed sketch of his childhood which I am at present translating for publication. In 1963 I suggested to him that he compose a narrative of recent events in Mbugwe, giving special attention to the local effects of Tanganyika's independence. He sent the report in several instalments, and this, translated from his Swahili, constitutes the article which follows.

The savanna-forest boundary in West Africa is one of its most remarkable geographical features. The clarity with which the boundary is defined, whether seen from the air or from ground level, is, throughout most of its length, most striking. Moreover, the most casual observer will discover that many other features, particularly of settlement and of agriculture, reach the limit of their distributions at about the same location. Not the least significant feature, in sharp contrast with many other zones of vegetation change, is that the boundary is not an ecotone, or zone of gradual change in floristic composition and community structure in response to equally gradual changes in habitat character, but ‘a mosaic of communities representative of each region’. The zone of change consists of islands, salients, and enclaves of forest and savanna, sharply separated from one another. Only one community, the ‘transition woodland’, may in any sense be considered an ecotone. Even this, in some instances at least, may be a more or less transient sub-seral community, in view of the fact that forest trees within it are generally young, whereas the savanna trees are old.