This is the second list of radiocarbon dates for sub-Saharan Africa which are considered to be of interest to historians and others working on the pre-colonial history of Africa. The first list was published in vol. II, no. I, of the Journal.

Linguistic research has revealed a Bantu ‘substratum’ among the few ethnic relics of western Madagascar that survive in what became known as the Sakalava empire. Early in the 1600's, two Jesuits familiar with both sides of the Moçambique Channel, discovered that some 300 miles of western Malagasy littoral bore the name of Bambala and were inhabited by Bantu-speaking agriculturalists, whose idiom was only modified by Malagasy loans. Bambala's African colonies were sub-divided into riverain chiefdoms, the largest of which was Sadia, with some 10,000 inhabitants in 1617. From it, the Sakalava warriors fanned out in the 1620's, came into contact with the southwestern Maroserana dynasty and gave it an empire by 1690 stretching from St Augustine Bay to present-day Majunga.

Maroserana kings adopted two of Bambala's politico-religious institutions, while the empire-building gradually decimated the original Sakalava warriors and swept away Bambala's Bantu speakers by ± 1710. Pastoralists from north, south and east replaced the former agricultural peoples while retaining the name ‘Sakalava’. But, there is no doubt that the first Malagasy empire was an African creation, and doubly so since association with gold confirms anew the close links between the Maroserana and gold-bearing Mwene Mutapa.

In the Islamic history of tropical Africa, prayer has often played an important, sometimes even a decisive, part. The functions of prayer may be ceremonial, instrumental (directed to the achievement of specific objectives), and disciplinary. In the military context the two latter are particularly significant. The discipline of Muslim prayer is strict, and has sometimes underpinned military discipline.

This article, largely on the basis of in-depth research in archives in Lisbon, provides an account of the trading systems linking Delagoa Bay to its southern hinterland. Within this framework we argue that the role of the slave trade has been previously underestimated. There is evidence that the booming demand for slaves in Brazil and on the Mascarene Islands hit this region with force. The scale of that trade is difficult to establish because it was, by and large, illicit and so not systematically recorded. There are indications of a significant trade prior to 1823 and a substantial one after that date. There is also evidence that northern Nguni groups, including the Zulu kingdom, were deeply involved in this trading system. The main sources of captives, however, were militarily weak societies, like the Tembe, which lived closer to the Bay.

This article explores the strategies of emancipation of former Tuareg slaves (iklan) in the Gao region of northern French Sudan (present-day Mali) during the late 1940s and 1950s. In the wake of the war effort and shifting colonial policy, and in spite of colonial tolerance toward vestiges of slavery, iklan engaged in local and long-distance migrations aimed at achieving emancipation. The article argues that the most successful spatial strategies were new migratory patterns in the Gao region through which iklan appropriated productive resources (herds and pastures) that were previously controlled by their ex-masters. More than labor migrations to cities, these local trajectories destabilized Tuareg hierarchies, forcing colonial administrators to address demands of the iklan emancipation movement.

Discussions about ‘direct’ administration and ‘indirect’ administration, with regard to French and British colonial policies, are less important than the question of who—local leaders or colonial administrators—had power over the lives of Africans. Monthly reports written by heads of subdivisions, the smallest French administrative units in a colony like Oubangui-Chari, are the most important written source of information for the day-to-day events of an area. They are also a source for the point of view of the administrator, often quite different from the point of view of chiefs and villagers. The European often sees himself as the central figure and colonial administrative problems as the central issues for everyone. African memories of the same period indicate that the European may have been considered less important by African peasants than their chief, whether the chief had a legitimate traditional basis or not, and that administrative issues were considered less important than certain local problems unknown to the European. This study of Félix Eboué and Raymond Sokambi, an administrator and a chief in Oubangui-Chari, shows that an attempt to examine perceptions of power—one basis for power—is a way to understand relations between the colonial administration and African society.

Hoisting the banner of St George on the mountains of Rasselas seemed a good thing to most of Disraeli's countrymen in the spring of 1868. A British consul, a special agent of the Bombay government's Aden establishment, and a number of laymen and missionaries, among them British subjects, were rescued from a mountain prison, and Theodore, the apparently mad ruler of Abyssinia (as Ethiopia was then known), committed suicide. All this for a cost of something like £9,000,000. And, having marched his men to the top of the hill, Sir Robert Napier (soon to become Baron Napier of Magdala) marched them down again. Abyssinia remained chaotic but free, and British relations with it returned to normal, that is to say the Foreign Office ceased to regard it except under compulsion.

Contrary to Professor Carlo Giglio I maintain that article xvII of the Wihalē treaty was in the Italian text worded in such a way that it, if legally valid, limited Ethiopian sovereignty and created a relationship which in substance amounted to a protectorate. The Italian negotiator Antonelli who had drafted this text could hardly be ignorant of its implications, and by allowing it to remain unchanged at the same time as he signed a different Amharic version he created the imbroglio, whether he intended to do so or not, and whether he actually tried to hinder the notification of the protectorate or not.

On the other hand, once it is established that the Italian version of article xvII was void, then there is no basis whatsoever for the Italian claim to a protectorate over Ethiopia. Article XVII was the ‘act’ on which the notification and the acknowledgements were based. The latter are therefore legally meaningless without article xvII. De jure the protectorate did not exist. Since the Italian government failed to gain control over Ethiopia's foreign relations or internal affairs, the protectorate never came into any de facto existence either. Professor Giglio's proposition that an Italian protectorate over Ethiopia was legally established regardless of the validity of article XVII, and functioned from 1889 to 1896 is not tenable.

Existing works on the colonial history of Northern Nigeria are generally agreed that the emirs who reigned during the colonial era were selected by traditional methods, that is to say, by kingmakers. This article attempts to show that in the case of Sokoto Province the emirs who were appointed during the period 1903–30, though they had traditional claims to their position, were chosen by the British and not by the kingmakers. It is suggested that during this period the British were so pre-occupied with the security of their rule that they would not leave the important function of selecting emirs to the kingmakers whom they still suspected could select anti-British princes as emirs. It is argued that this policy was largely dictated by the Administration's fear of Mahdism which, up to the end of the 1920s was seen as a real danger to British rule. Thus only overtly loyal princes were elevated to emirships, regardless of whether they had the kingmakers' support or not. The British were able to do this without causing serious political unrest because the emirates were basically ‘competitive monarchies’ which left the British room for manipulation. Finally, the article suggests that, as a result of increased confidence in the security of their rule and owing to the fact that unpopular chiefs had proved to be a liability to the government, in the early 1930s the British restored the kingmakers' right to elect emirs without overdue interference by administrative officers.

In earlier publications the present writer was at pains to emphasize that the state of Sinnār was not a mere confederation of nomadic Arab tribes; rather, it rested upon a firm agricultural base and was governed bureaucratically, while incorporating an ingeniously conceived system of nobility. This interpretation, though valid as far as it went, rested largely on evidence from riverain Sinnār and left little room for nomads. The present study, based primarily upon sources from the Sudanese rainlands, proposes that such a view of the place of herdsmen in the society of Sinnār is not well founded, and indeed that the habit of thought which perceives a sharp and enduring distinction between the peoples of ‘ the steppe and the sown’ – however appropriate in other contexts – does not pertain to Sinnār. The vision of rainland life which emerges from the sources here examined reveals a single society of herdsmen and cultivators, a society in perpetual metamorphosis within a framework of possibilities limited by ecology and custom. Ruling houses came and went; tribes grew, sundered and re-formed into new polities. Individuals and groups migrated freely, occasionally over vast distances, and changed their mode of livelihood whenever the opportunity for herding or the necessity for cultivating presented itself. All were subordinate to the state, whose continuity of authority in the long run overshadowed the more ephemeral corporate realities of the moment.

Wambu (Huambo) was one of the more important of the Ovimbundu Kingdoms of central Angola, the histories of some of which were treated in Part III of Umbundu Kinship and Character (1949) q.v.

The tradition of Wambu begins with Feti, the Adam of the Ovimbundu. Through the vaNganda it is definitely linked with the cattle-complex peoples of south-west Angola, and it is also connected with the ‘Jagas’ described by Battell. This latter link provides a chronological starting point early in the seventeenth century. Thus, beginning with the ‘Jaga’ Wambu Kalunga, the fourth king named, tradition and historical reference are followed through the reigns of twenty-five kings, until independence ended with the capture by the Portuguese forces of two strongholds and their capital town of Samisasa during the ‘Bailundu War’ of 1902. The chief occupation of the kings and the men of Wambu (as of practically of all the Ovimbundu Kingdoms) during most of this time, was raiding their neighbours, those of other tribes and those of European descent.

John Dunn entered Zululand in 1857. He observed Zulu customs and law and he exploited Zulu soial institutions to his political and economic advantage. His accumulation of land, cattle, wives and clients made him one of the wealthiest men in the Zulu kingdom. Dunn manipulated and utilized his wealth to increase his status and influence. His privileged position with Cetshwayo, his alliances with many clans through marriage and his access to firearms made Dunn a powerful figure in the Zulu kingdom.

Dunn's varied career as a trader, labour recruiter, arms supplier and adviser underlines the freedom of political and economic action available to white frontiersmen operating in those zones that straddled the boundaries separating black African states from white colonial societies. The failure of the Zulu royal family to solve the succession question – the essential malaise that plagued the Zulu political system periodically throughout much of the kingdom's history and which, at times, threatened to destroy national unity – presented opportunities for white frontiersmen, like Dunn, to advance their careers. Dunn became involved in Zululand's internal affairs during a period of political turbulence and internecine warfare. The civil war of 1856 had killed off no less than eight potential heirs to the throne and sent Mpande's political career into permanent decline. But new rivalries between the royal princes Cetshwayo, Hamu and Zibepu emerged almost immediately. Cetshwayo used Dunn's assistance to secure his claim to the throne. Dunn's own economic interests prompted him to support Cetshwayo's political aspirations. The control of vital resources, strategic trade routes and firearms was a crucial factor in Cetshwayo's accession in 1873. John Dunn played a major role in providing the material foundations of Cetshwayo's power.

All the many definitions and descriptions of the akori bead published in the last five hundred years have proved inadequate. They appear either pedantically narrow, so that only a hundred years later or a hundred miles away beads also unquestionably called akori by West Africans by their very existence disprove such ‘precise’ characteristics, or, the other extreme, so broad as to be historically useless and logically unsatisfactory. Since all the akori records must be viewed as historical sources more or less reflecting the real situation in the past, we can hardly blame their authors for the akori puzzle; there must have been something wrong in the naming mechanism, in the factual relationship between the word and the thing. It is the main point of this article that the akori phenomenon originated in the existence of various types of natural glass in North and West Africa. An archetypal human attraction to this strange and rare substance can be observed in several culturally very different areas of the world. Understandably, at a later stage people made talismans and beads of this presumably protective material, yet the primeval veneration paid only to the mysterious matter, now under a more sophisticated but basically accidental form, remained the same. It was primarily this matter alone which West Africans tried to discover, test and obtain in European-imported artificial glass after 1500. The complex akori ‘problem’ is a telling and fascinating historical and logical expression of contact between different cultures.

‘La course au clocher’, traduction du terme anglais de steeple-chase, fut introduite en France en 1834. D`s 1832 Alfred de Musset, dans ‘A quoi rêvent les jeunes filles’, Acte I, scène IV, donne une description précise de ce sport:

Avez-vous jamais vu les courses d'Angleterre?

On prend quatre coureurs—quatre chevaux sellés;

On leur montre un clocher, puis on leur dit: Ailez!

Il s'agit d'arriver, n'importe la manière.

L'un choisit un ravin—l'autre un chemin battu.

Celui-ci gagnera s'il ne rencontre un fleuve;

Celui-là fera mieux, s'il n'a le cou rompu.

The writing of South African history has yet to catch up with many of the historiographical advances made north of the Limpopo. This is especially obvious in the tendency to view white and black states confronting one another in the pre-conquest era as irreconcilably hostile monolithic blocks. This essay attempts to examine the reality of that interaction by focusing on the eastern Transvaal republics and the Swazi in the mid-nineteenth century. The Swazi, it suggests, were not the integrated society that is often assumed, and were forced to enlist the support of Boer factions in the eastern Transvaal to survive internal dissensions and Zulu attack. The Transvaal republics themselves were similarly divided along constitutional, political and economic lines, with access to African resources, whether for labour, for hunting, or for military assistance, constituting a crucial determinant of political power. As a result a shifting kaleidoscope of factional relationships grew up, characterized by changing political alliances and by fissions from both parties concerned. Only once they were freed from the fear of Zulu invasion after 1852 were the Swazi able to proceed undisturbed with the process of internal consolidation, and to present a more unified front to their neighbours. For the Transvaal (by then the South African Republic) that process was postponed even longer, until after the civil wars of the early 1860s, and the discovery of gold a decade after that. Only then can one talk of the South African Republic or the Swazi as being states in any meaningful way.