Most of the Fellows of the African Studies Association have participated in at least one Peace Corps training program, so that they have an interest in, and opinions on, this subject. The present article summarizes the major factors of training programs, outlines the main characteristics of the projects in Africa and of the volunteers, and then considers some aspects of the relationship between the Peace Corps and the universities. Finally, there is a detailed summary of all Peace Corps training programs for Africa, from the first one in June 1961 through the summer of 1965. Forty-four different universities, colleges, or other organizations have produced 132 programs for 19 different African countries, and some 6,000 volunteers have successfully completed the training and gone to serve with the Peace Corps in Africa (the usual service period spent in Africa is two years).

The first step in the establishment of a training program is a discussion between an interested university and the Training Division of the Peace Corps, followed by a series of negotiations which culminate in a formal contract. The contract specifies the duration of the program, the number and educational background of trainees, the faculty who will participate, the details of phases of training, and the country and project for which the trainees are being prepared. An important part of the contract is the budget, the cost generally being a little more than $200 per trainee per week.

This article analyzes the historical ambiguity of the “purchase areas” in colonial Zimbabwe. Established under the 1931 Land Apportionment Act that segregated land in the colony along racial lines, the purchase areas were discrete areas of freehold tenure dotted throughout the country. African elites who setded in the area and Europeans who administered them held distinct notions about the value and proper use of purchase area farms. For the African landholders, the small farms expressed their elite status in society. The state expected that educated, elite Africans should maintain modern, efficient farms. However, African landholders remained extensive farmers. They increased production by extending their fields, rather than by adopting labor-saving techniques. When the state confronted Marirangwe purchase area farmers about their “poor farming” techniques, the farmers presented a brash defense of their family values which they connected to their farming methods. This family-centered defense of their farms forced the state to concede certain development patterns to the farmers, foremost being the permanence of family farms, thereby enabling extensive farming.

This article reviews the history of defamation cases involving Africans in Southern Rhodesia. Two precedent-setting cases, one in 1938 and the other in 1946, provided a legal rationale for finding defamation that rested on the ability of litigants to prove they had been shamed. The testimony and evidence of these cases, both of which involved government employees, tracks how colonial rule was altering hierarchy and changing definitions of honor, often to the bewilderment of the litigants themselves. Importantly, both cases concluded that African employees of the state deserved special protection from defamation. The article then traces how the rules and ambiguities resulting from the legal logic of the 1938 and 1946 cases gave a wider group of litigants such as clerks, police, clergy, and teachers room to maneuver in the courtroom where they also claimed their professional honor. Such litigants perfectly understood the expectations of the court and performed accordingly by recounting embarrassing, even painful, experiences, all to validate their personal and professional honor in court. Such performances raise the question of how we might use court records to write a history of the emotional costs to people who used astute strategies that rested on dishonorable revelations to win their cases.

The Kwilu rebellion of 1964 belongs within a little studied species of political violence: the aborted rural revolution.

Political change in Africa marked by violence seems endemic—historically, revolts and resistance to colonial intrusion; international conflict during the two world wars and along borders since independence; civil strife in many countries; a plethora of military coups d'état; anomic violence of several forms, including urban riots, hut burnings, and women's uprisings. Yet one form of political violence appears conspicuous by its absence. Political revolution has been rare in recent African history. To be certain, events in Algeria, Rwanda, and Zanzibar entailed profound social and political transformations, making them revolutionary in import (Humbaraci, 1966; Wolf, 1969; Lemarchand, 1968 and 1970; Lofchie, 1965). These are exceptions. Even a society as polarized as that of the Republic of South Africa appears to negate the standard explanations of revolution (Adam, 1971; Daniel, 1975; Van den Berghe, 1965). Understanding the aborted rural revolution in Kwilu thus will enable us better to grasp the obstacles to sweeping political change in Africa south of the Sahara.

For much of 1964, young maquisards controlled an area nearly the size of Belgium in the Western Congolese province of Kwilu. Leader of the uprising was Pierre Mulele, briefly a cabinet minister under Patrice Lumumba, and later an official of the breakaway Gizengist government. The rapid initial success of the partisan fighters testified to widespread political and social frustration among many Kwilu residents, to popular support for Mulele's efforts at violent and extensive change, to the coercive inadequacies of the national armed forces, and to the mobilizing effects of an ideology that interwove indigenous and Marxist threads. Only with the major reorganization of the Congolese military (including the recruitment of foreign mercenaries) was the uprising quelled and Mulele forced into exile. How the Mulelist fighters gained their popular support and initial military success are questions of great concern to analysts of African politics.

(The following article on the forthcoming First International Congress of Africanists is reprinted from the Bulletin of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, No. 2, 1962, pp. 88-9. Previous accounts of planning for the Congress, by Conrad Reining and William O. Jones, may be found in this Bulletin, October I960 and December 1961.)

African Studies until very recent times were developed as a part of Oriental Studies. To some extent this is explained by the fact that the northern, most developed areas of Africa are populated by Arabic-speaking peoples, and there are not a few reasons for regarding them in historical, cultural, and political aspects as part of the general Arab world. Northern Africa was usually included in the rather vague concept of “the Orient,” and then, this time without any reason for it, the whole continent began to be included in “the Orient.”

But the main reason for including African Studies in Oriental Studies is that the study of the countries of Asia and Africa was pursued primarily by the scientists of the colonial powers, and inasmuch as their work fundamentally served the aims of ruling enslaved countries in the interests of imperialist monopolies, both the great continents were regarded as one single colonial complex.

Despite the increasing effort of Africanist scholars, and particularly historians, to decolonize African history by focusing greater attention on the role of Africans than Europeans in the unfolding of African history, historical interest in the influence of Europeans in Africa remains. This is perhaps reflected in the continuing appearance of studies devoted to European activities in Africa. However, there are those who, perhaps justifiably, question the need or value for such studies, given the trend in African studies today to de-emphasize imperial history and to accent “real” African history (Ranger, 1979; Bennett, 1981). Yet there are others who argue, rather persuasively, that studies of European activities in Africa should still be encouraged either because we do not as yet know all that we need to know about Europeans in Africa (Ranger and Weller, 1975), or because we now have ample data with which to reconsider aspects of European presence in Africa (Hopkins, 1976). Indeed, seen from this perspective of revisionist historiography, some of the recent studies of Europeans in Africa not only enhance our knowledge of the dynamics of African and European interaction but also enable us to either reject or modify many of the familiar assumptions and theories about Europeans in Africa (Hopkins, 1976; Ranger, 1979; Igbafe, 1979; Newbury, 1978).

It is indeed against this background of revisionist historiography that this present essay is attempted. It seeks, on the one hand, to reconsider the popular image of European colonial administrators as men who were characteristically genial, kindhearted, and unselfishly dedicated to the welfare of their African wards (Burns, 1949; Heussler, 1963; Bradley, 1966; Gann and Duignan, 1978).

The African Studies Association has presented its Herskovits Award for “an outstanding study on Africa” published during the previous academic year since 1965. Although 1983 does not, therefore, mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of this award or even the twenty-fifth winner (due to several multiple awards, a total of twenty-two have been given), it seems, nevertheless, like an appropriate moment to look back over the previous awards and take stock of their character and significance.

What follows will not provide a major critical evaluation of either the individual books which have received the Herskovits Award nor of the process by which they were chosen. Such an effort would require more serious reading of these books and other works published in the same fields and years than has been undertaken here. Moreover, it would require some investigation of the scholars who served on the various Herskovits Award committees and possibly an inquiry into the substance of their proceedings. If the likely results of such a study were worth the labor demanded, it is not clear that this Review, and particularly an issue celebrating a major date in the history of its parent organization, is the appropriate forum. However, for some future editors of “African Studies Revised” or whatever reincarnation of the late 1960s may eventually strike us, this account of the Herskovits Awards should at least provide a base of useful information.

The current interest in the production and use of educational films by Africanists emphasizes the need for a methodology by which films on Africa may be critically analyzed and evaluated. Until recently most academics have been overly cautious in their attitudes toward educational films. They have been quick to criticize factual and interpretative weaknesses, but at the same time they have felt it professionally declassé to be directly involved in writing scripts or in film production. Furthermore, the need to recover production costs has only too frequently meant a lowering of standards and a popularization of content. As a result, subject specialists have been reluctant to participate in film-making ventures. As for film usage, limited opportunities for preview, leading to random projection of bad or irrelevant material, and difficulties in obtaining films have discouraged many instructors. In short, for whatever reason, academics have had low audio-visual “literacy.”

Ideally, a film should be used in a particular teaching situation because of its ability to convey an idea or a series of ideas better than any other means at the instructor's disposal. Every film is a synthesis of “all the sensory data presented visually, aurally (or emotionally?) by the film and its accompanying sound-track” (Columbia University 1951, p. 2). The anticipated effect of this, the film's unique identity or content, on students at defined levels of understanding should determine whether it is a “good” or “bad” film.