The view of the primacy of the properly edited source represents a notion long taken for granted by classical and medieval historians (among others) and philologists, as is evidenced by the very large number of edited texts that undergird their interpretative work, and which continue to appear regularly, including improved editions of previously-published texts. It cannot be said that Africanists (to mention only one group) have enthusiastically adopted a similar view with respect to their own sources.

In fact, if there was a hallmark of the nascent historiography of precolonial Africa, it was its commitment to rehabilitating oral sources as a legitimate tool for recovering the deeper past. The reasons for this development are obvious, perhaps even ineluctable: it provided a unifying esprit de corps which served to actuate its practitioners; it permitted the study of geographical areas not well served by other types of sources; it prompted apparently rapid progress in the field from virtually a standing start.

In the circumstances it is no surprise that written sources, typically the staple of most historical inquiry, were relegated to a supporting role. Like Akan stool disputants, African historians were frequently content to draft written/printed materials into service largely in attempts to corroborate information more gratifyingly elicited from oral sources. This state of affairs was appropriately mirrored in scholarly publishing during the period.

A dominant trend in Nigerian historiography since the 1970s has been the preoccupation with writing history “from the national perspective.” This appears to be Nigerian historians' attempts to be “relevant” to current efforts at nation-building. “National history,” the object of such endeavors, has been defined by the frontline historian J. F. Ade Ajayi as “a study of the main developments in the whole Nigerian region, and among all the peoples and cultures, as perceived from the perspective of national significance and relevance, and only illustrated from the histories of individual groups and polities.”

While such efforts at writing what amounts to macrohistory are commendable, emphasis on themes of “national significance and relevance” could result in overgeneralization or the deletion of vital details. This likelihood then justifies the writing of microhistory to give macrohistory a sound factual or empirical basis. The need for microhistory has been stressed by a distinguished historian:

The Songhay Empire was a remarkable west African state, flourishing in several areas including territorial and trade expansion, development of a strong military and centralized government, unprecedented support for learning and scholarship, and skilful relations with the greater Sudanic and Islamic lands. Songhay arose out of the remains of the Mali empire under the rule of Sonni Ali ca. 1464. Yet it was the empire's second ruler, Askiya Muhammad, who initiated the century-long golden age of peace and stability, bringing Songhay to its zenith. This era was particularly fruitful for the cities of Gao, Timbuktu, and Jenne, the empire's administrative, scholarly, and trade centers respectively. Timbuktu soared to preeminence in the Sudan and became known in other parts of the Muslim world, producing many respected scholars. However, by the later part of the sixteenth century fractious disarray among the descendants of Askiya Muhammad weakened the state, ultimately leading to the Moroccan invasion of 1591. Songhay's capitulation to the invaders ended the age of the great medieval west African states.

In the beginning of 1999 Professor David Beach died in Harare, only about three months after an unexpected illness which proved to be brain cancer had cut short his academic activities. His early death after more than thirty years of intensive research on the precolonial history of Zimbabwe and Mozambique motivated some of his friends and colleagues to plan a panel on his work in the 2000 CAAS conference in Edmonton, Canada. This paper was originally written for this Conference which I did not manage to attend. Not only his figure as historian and friend but also the context he was working in interested me, including the problem of local production of knowledge in Africa in the colonial and postcolonial environment. In this paper I shall present some biographical data on David Beach, outline the sequence of his research and writing, cover his concept and contribution to history, the reception of his work in Mozambique, ending with some comments regarding the problems of local production of scientific knowledge in African countries. The coverage is in places somewhat sketchy and some subjects like the reception of his studies in Zimbabwe have only been referenced briefly, and that in North America omitted.

The sections of the paper which deal with the sequence of his research, method, etc. and focus on sociological aspects of his production are based mainly on indications in Beach's own published work. Additional information came from his correspondence, hints he gave in casual conversation during my four visits to Harare in 1971 and 1982-1995, and during his six visits to Maputo in 1987, 1989, 1990, 1992, 1994 and 1997, as well as some observations.

One of the foremost achievements of missionary enterprise in the African region was the training of individuals, particularly clergymen, who came to play pioneering roles in the documentation of the history of their peoples. One of the reasons usually advanced by such chroniclers for taking part in this tedious attempts at historical reconstruction, is basically, to safeguard the history of their people and most especially, the need to prevent their history from being distorted, forgotten or sent into some oblivion. Examples of clergymen or missionary influenced personalities who have performed such tasks in Nigeria include Reverend Samuel Johnson, on the history of the Yoruba, J.D. Egharevba on the history of Benin, and Reverend Samuel Ojo, on the history of Ilorin and Shaki.

These chronicles have their limitations. The writers often serve as public image launderers for the people they write about. As a result, a lot of bias and subjectivism is embellished in what they attempt to project. Historical facts are distorted in this process. The lack of the chroniclers' basic methods of historical research is also evident in their narrative method of historical writing. This approach does not provide any opportunity for proper historical analysis. In spite of the limitations of these chronicles, they have served as very useful sources of primary information for contemporary historians. More importantly, their writings have been able to create a sense of identity and cultural awareness among their intended audience. In other words they have sometimes proved more relevant and acceptable to the intended audience even more than the works of contemporary historians.2 It is with this hindsight that we examine Iwe Itan Ofa by The Very Reverend J.B. Olafimihan.

Bulama (otherwise Bolama) Island is the furthest inshore member of the Bissagos Islands, off the West African coast, in the present-day state of Guiné-Bissau. On the east side of the wide estuary of Rio Jeba, it stands near the mouth of Rio Balola. Small, low-lying, partly surrounded by sandbanks and swamps, often uninhabited, and considered by whites scenically attractive but very unhealthy, Bulama has appeared in historical records with disproportionate frequency. It may have been noted during the earliest stages of Portuguese “Discovery;” two centuries on, it was investigated by the French. It was later the locality of a disastrous British settlement, the proposed home for a colony of African-Americans, and for sixty years the site of a colonial capital; and it was the subject of a well-meant arbitration by a President of the U.S.A. Finally, it was the center for an international conference on its own past, held in 1990. That past, of little importance in itself, nevertheless provides a keyhole glimpse of much of the history of the western Guinea coast over four centuries.

Our knowledge of the earlier history of the island of Bulama is slight and depends on European sources. The region of the estuary of Rio Jeba—or “Rio Grande” as it was originally known—was first visited by Europeans in the 1450s. The earliest Portuguese ship to arrive was probably the one on which a certain Diogo Gomes traveled, the date probably 1456. The account of this voyage, as edited by a contemporary scholar in the 1490s from the oral narrative of Diogo Gomes in old age, indicates that the Portuguese landed at a point along Rio Jeba and saw wild animals: deer, elephants, and crocodiles.

The basic purpose here is to offer an archival report about historical and ethnographic material collected partly in Mali but mostly in Guinea, when such efforts in the latter country were contrary to official government policy and in some cases could be hazardous to undertake. Owing to the risks involved in some intellectual activities in Guinea between 1958 and 1984, as well as the importance of the material recorded on reel-to-reel tapes in this archive, the research accomplished by Djibril Tamsir Niane in the 1960s that culminated in the 1969-1971 expeditions to Baga villages, was itself historically significant. Moreover, the fact that once the research had been done the recorded information survived ensuing decades of potentially destructive climatic conditions and political events is remarkable. Therefore, as a prologue to introducing the archival material in the process of preservation at the time of this writing, it seems appropriate to begin this report with a description of the circumstances under which the recordings were made and how they survived to the present day.

Even in learned journals on African and imperial history, few references have been made to the records contained in the archives in Cameroon, West Africa. Kamerun was a German colony (Schutzgebiet) from 1884-1916/19. In 1911, the Germans took over New Cameroon (Neu Kamerun), 295,000 km2 of land of French Equatorial Africa, ceded during the second Morocco Crisis. After World War I this transaction was reversed and the German colony was separated into French and British League of Nations Mandates in 1919. These mandates were transformed into United Nations Trusteeships in 1946. Finally, French Cameroun became independent in 1960, and after a plebiscite in 1961, one part of the British Cameroons joined Nigeria and the other part reunited with the formerly French part, now the independent Federal Republic of Cameroon.

Due to the involvement of three colonial powers in Cameroon, the national archives in Yaoundé and Buea are an excellent source for the colonial history of West Africa, allowing for a simultaneous analysis of German, French, and British files. Whereas the colonial files in the European archives mainly give us the point of view of high politics, the archives in Cameroon offer a different dimension. The files reveal the intricacies of the colonial system on the ground, and the problems with which the colonial administrator had to cope in the bush: How did one introduce European legal tender in a territory never touched by Europeans before? How did one cope with the colonial rivals, who were couching at the frontiers to take over the territory? How did one attempt to win peoples' hearts and minds day in and day out? What happened when the new colonial power took over a territory with an already developed administration from another colonial power, as it took place in Cameroon in 1911 and 1916/19? The national archives of Cameroon contain potential answers to these questions. Hence this paper will focus on the sources that are available for the colonial period in these archives.

I can claim no direct pedigree from African Studies at Wisconsin, but one of my own graduate school mentors, Robert Harms, benefitted from David Henige's and Jan Vansina's influence; all three have profoundly marked my own approaches to the historical anthropology of equatorial Africa. In this paper I draw on David Henige's illuminating and still relevant insights into the problem of “feedback,” in light of a key methodological preoccupation in my own discipline of anthropology – “fieldwork.” In particular I want to suggest how ethnographic fields are formed over time through a layering process that involves ongoing cycles of intertwined oral and written traditions.

Henige's 1973 article, “The Problem of Feedback in Oral Tradition,” prefigures by a full decade Terence Ranger's highly influential essay on “The Invention of Tradition in Colonial Africa.” In that 1973 article, Henige argued that given traditions were “dynamic over time.” British Indirect Rule had led the Fante of the Gold Coast to devise new oral traditions in order to take advantage of opportunities of British Colonialism. In particular, he cites the ways printed sources, especially the Bible, but also the Qur'an, colonial sources, publications, and later scholarly works, have all found their way back into oral accounts. Henige also suggests that pre-colonial oral traditions also would have been continually reworked; present practices suggest considerable adaptability and flexibility in the past.

This paper asks a methodological question: In what way can petitions written in the colonial period introduce us to the persona of the writers – that is, as against mainstream interpretation given to them as mere archival sources? Doesn’t the very nature of the petitions introduce us to the selfhood of those “caught up” in the often-mentioned “sophisticated” concepts of nationalism, politics, power, imperialism, urbanity, and colonialism? What, and how, do petitions tell us about the “interior version” of colonial society as seen in the individual? In an attempt at a deeper understanding of colonial Lagos, this paper examines an alternative feature of petitions as entry into the selfhood of colonial subjects rather than mainstream interpretations of the documents as qualitative exposition to “grand” historical phenomena. Selfhood as examined here is presented as it was constructed by petitions written in Lagos between 1940 and 1960 with a particular focus on three. Their deficiencies in “standards of grammar” notwithstanding, the words are also examined to allow for a demonstration of their qualities as texts: their meanings in singular and collaborative contexts, the gaps they exposed, the information they concealed, the disconnections in chronology they indicated, the “ethics” of grammar they “relegated” for more “substantial expose” of the self, the information they privileged the reader to hear, the identity they formed in the personas they constructed and the voice they generated. This paper suggests that these strands analyzed together affirm the textuality of petitions written by everyday people in colonial Lagos and that these point to the potentiality of such documents to further contribute to the substantial comprehension of the inner qualities of self-identity in Lagos and Nigeria’s colonial history.

The so far unknown report by Norberto Correia, Portuguese administrator of the Baixo-Cunene border district, is an impressive document on forced labor and flight at the Angola-Namibia border, written by a controversial official fallen into disgrace after a regime change in the metropole. Correia’s acerbic and detailed analysis allows fresh interpretations of a border situation that is only at first glance well-known. By contrasting the Correia report with documentation from South African officials and the voices of their Ovambo partners in indirect rule, we come to clearer understanding of motivations and options at this unruly colonial border.

In 1947, the colonial government in British Cameroon established an Islamic court in the Grassfields to try cases involving the region's Muslim population, primarily comprised of Fulani and Hausa diaspora communities that had settled the area since the late nineteenth century. Colonial debates over the creation and purview of the court reveal uncertainties that permeated Indirect Rule's legal categories of native and non-native, or tribe and race, which were to be governed by customary and civil law, respectively. Comparing legal regimes in British Cameroon with Northern Nigeria, the homeland of “native” Hausa and Fulani, shows that Islamic law sat uneasily across the divide between customary and civil law. With the importation of the court to the Grassfields, where Fulani and Hausa transformed into “native foreigners,” the delineation between customary and civil law was rendered even more obscure, illustrating that it could never neatly correspond to constructions of race and tribe.

This article focuses on the uses of the archive in contemporary Zimbabwe by individuals and families making claims to chieftaincy. A reading of the colonial archive on chieftainship histories reveals that there is an information gap especially for some years. For instance, from the 1960s to the present, there are relatively few documents specifically relating to the subject of chiefs and headmen in Zimbabwe. As a result, researchers working on chieftainships, hired historians, and claimants to chieftaincy face a frustrating challenge of limited sources. This article analyzes the sources that hired historians use to write chieftaincy claims reports in Zimbabwe for their clients. It also explores the use of oral evidence to complement or counter the narratives offered through colonial documents, and it also recommends the use of alternative sources on chieftaincy, both within and beyond the repositories of the National Archives of Zimbabwe (NAZ).

This article analyzes the methods and sources of writing a colonial legal history of Africa. The analysis is carried out with a case study of the dual legal system operative in colonial Northern Nigeria from 1900 to 1960, which saw the English common law coexist with Islamic law. I examine how three sources of colonial law – namely, legislations, case law, and legal writings – reveal the varied perspectives of European colonial officials and Africans on the workings of this legal system. I argue that while colonial legislations and legal writings are lopsided toward the perspectives of the British authority, case law in conjunction with African commentaries provide some prospect to engage in a narrative that foregrounds the voices of Africans.

From the 1880s, obituaries of Africans and European colonial officials became a frequent genre in Lagos newspapers. This article examines obituary notices in seven Lagos newspapers to understand how print publications and the next of kin who commissioned obituaries used commemorative practices to frame colonial relations and reflect on imperial expansion. Revisiting Jürgen Habermas’s notion of the public sphere, I argue that colonial newspapers introduced gossipy anecdotes and sensationalism in obituary notices to define the colonial “public sphere” as one that is characterized by insinuations of social and economic class, Christian rhetoric, racial divides and anti-colonial sentiments as well as civic responsibilities around public health concerns.

As foundation money for overseas research grows more difficult to obtain, historians of Africa will perforce seek archival resources closer to home. A rough listing of African materials in American archives has been published, the Handbook of American Resources for African Studies, but the catalog evidently relied in part on reports written by American archivists who had little or no training in African history. As a result many available sources have been inadequately described. Take the case of the Southern Historical Collection, a repository for private manuscripts at the University of North Carolina Library at Chapel Hill. Although several collections with African papers in this repository are briefly noted in the Handbook, there was no indication of important materials like the forty-page eyewitness description of the court of the Mijjerteyn Sultan written in 1878. Nor, for that matter, is this account noted in the unpublished description of the papers available at the Collection; in fact, even if a researcher should ask, the archivist probably could not readily locate the account unless the researcher already had a name and date for it.

The Southern Historical Collection holds three kinds of documents relating to Africa: (1) The Khedive of Egypt hired several former Confederate officers to conduct mapping expeditions in Sudan, Ethiopia, and Somalia when he began his military conquests to the south in the 1870s. These officers' papers consist of letters, diaries, and printed material concerning their explorations and their daily lives in Cairo. (2) Several groups of papers contain information on missionary activities, mostly by Episcopalians, in Liberia from 1829 to 1880, and (3)there are a number of scattered items in various collections, mainly travelers' accounts of brief visits to Africa.

The notarial records (Notariel Ardhief) in the Amsterdam town archives (Gemeente Archief) offer a rich source of data on Dutch West African trade for the period between the late sixteenth and early eighteenth centuries. In 1962 Patricia Carson published a fairly extensive list of references to these records for the years between 1651 and 1709, indicating thereby the importance of the notarial documents as a source material. However, to my knowledge this material has not been systematically examined by historians of West Africa. The purpose of this note is to draw once again the attention of historians to these documents. My comments are to be considered as supplementary to Carson's account.

The notarial records are, to put it mildly, extraordinarily voluminous. The prospective researcher should allot himself or herself a minimum time of about six months if he or she intends to examine even a representative sampling of the records in a thorough manner. Unfortunately, the records are neither catalogued nor indexed as far as the West African data are concerned, hence the researcher must read a great deal of superfluous material in hopes of coming across references to West Africa. The records are not easy to read, so it is not possible to ‘skim’ through the folios in the hope of spotting a West African place name. Each folio must be carefully examined. The records are in Dutch and the handwriting is in the Gothic script. Although the handwriting is generally clear and legible, it is remarkably -- indeed almost unnaturally-small, so that a magnifying glass would be an asset.