Since 2015, the south-eastern region of Nigeria has experienced sporadic outbursts of aggression spearheaded by Biafran separatist agitators. However, the latter part of the 2010s has witnessed a marked increase in the fervent endeavours of Indigenous Peoples of Biafra (IPOB) activists within the same area as they passionately pursue their aspirations for self-determination. Central to their approach is enforcing a compulsory weekly ‘sit-at-home’ policy, effectively establishing a quasi-sovereign enclave within the region. The prevalence of social media has provided a prominent platform for propagating secessionist sentiments. IPOB also advocates vigilante justice against individuals who dare to flout the mandated Monday sit-at-home order. An alarming manifestation of this stance can be gleaned from a tweet containing a chilling threat: ‘[I]f you come out, we will kill you, hang your head, and upload it.’ In response to these developments, the Nigerian state has assumed a resolute stance, taking action to proscribe IPOB and declaring any social gatherings of south-eastern youths a ‘state of exception’. As this article examines IPOB’s sit-at-home directive and the escalating focus on fear and retribution against transgressors in the south-eastern region, it adopts a comprehensive methodology that integrates oral interviews, focus group discussions, analysis of newspaper editorials, books and journal articles, and the tracking of relevant online hashtags for the purpose of data generation and analysis. Adopting securitization theory, this article offers an interpretative lens to comprehend the intricate issues at stake.

In the mountainous areas of south-western Uganda, peasant miners are characterized as people who ‘work for the stomach’ and pursue an unsustainable activity: extracting alluvial gold with artisanal technology. After days of hard work in the mines, they allegedly squander their money on alcohol and sex. A common way of disapproving of these miners’ behaviour is to compare them to lake fishers (ababariya). By focusing on the ababariya narrative as an entry point into the lifeways of miners, and the relationship between mining and fishing and agriculture, we explore how peasant miners think about a sustainable life. Our argument is that the ababariya can be instrumental in the reproduction and legitimization of existing social and economic inequalities. We therefore examine the contexts that frame the ababariya narrative and the inequalities that it legitimizes. This leads us to reflect on whether this narrative on ‘excessive behaviours’ reveals something about an alternative way of thinking about economy and social relationships based on abundance rather than scarcity.

Henry Miyinzi Chakava (26 April 1946–8 March 2024), often described as ‘the godfather of book publishing in Africa’, started his early career at the Kenyan branch of Heinemann Educational Books, later to become the indigenously-owned East African Educational Publishers in Nairobi. He was Kenya’s first African book editor in 1972, at a time when there were still few books or educational materials published in African languages, and he devoted much his life to preserving and boosting the region’s languages. He was also a courageous and highly enterprising publisher who has made a massive and lasting contribution to indigenous publishing and the book trade in Africa. Henry Chakava has written extensively, perceptively, and eloquently on many topics as they relate to publishing and the book world in Africa, as is reflected in this annotated bibliography. Also included are a number of profiles, interviews, and obituaries.

An important and timely recent article by Hans Zell on Nigerian university presses prompts wider questions about the state of Nigerian scholarly publishing, how universities in general and journal publishers in particular adapt, and how libraries access scholarly outputs. This brief response to the article seeks to widen the discussion and encourage further research and action on the subject.

This research examines the continuity and changes in Igbo thoughts on leprosy by exploring Igbo cosmology and its relationship with Christian and colonial ideas about the disease. The perception of leprosy in precolonial Igboland reveals a shocking similarity with the later Judeo-Christian identity and the perception of leprosy that dominated the area during colonialism. It argues that colonial and Christian missionary ideas did not radically transform the perceptions of leprosy in south-eastern Nigeria. Instead, what happened was merely an adaptation and continuity of prevailing thoughts about the disease. Using oral evidence, archival materials and existing anthropological works on Igbo worldviews and cosmology, this research shows the changes in the colonial socio-cultural knowledge of leprosy. After careful analysis, it concludes that, while colonial medicine and the missionaries’ idea of leprosy healed leprosy sufferers and transformed their identity, most Igbo people continued conceptualizing the disease as an aberration and maintained the stigmatization of sufferers.

This article explores the trajectories and narratives of people who have exited marginalized urban spaces in Nairobi to move through other social spaces in the city, or abroad. Claiming to belong to the ‘ghetto’, an idiom that refers to both a local space of exclusion and a globalized cultural and political imaginary, our interlocutors embrace the contradictions of this belonging in their everyday experiences. The careers they have built in different fields (art, activism, sport, academia) identify them as figures of social success and make them question their relationships with those around them. Defining their aspirations as intimately linked with the ghetto, but perceiving it as a strong constraint, they are not cutting ties with the place they come from. Drawing on qualitative fieldwork that pays attention to both their self-narratives and their writing, we propose the notion of ‘small boundaries’ to describe how social and spatial mobility from the ghetto produces, for each individual in a different way, an intimate cleavage within the self. We then propose to unpack this specific self as a configuration of three types of distancing (social, spatial and self-distancing) that allow both their aspirations and their obligations to coexist in everyday life.

We have recently completed the draft of a book on the changing representation of East African wildlife from the 1940s to the 1980s. We have used many published texts as well as visual representations such as photographs, films, and television. The output of material in these years was huge. We suggest that these media representations were a significant, and neglected, element in the emergence of a global animal-centric conservationist ethos. This article discusses some of the people involved and the papers, many of them in private hands, that we used. We believe that this is valuable material and should, where possible, be acquired by archives. The material is scattered, especially in Kenya, the UK, and USA. In the UK, the University of Bristol library now houses the Wildscreen film archives and also some private papers that could form the foundation for a larger collection.

From 1950 to 1963, a columnist named ‘Kadebona’ (The Experienced One) published regular pieces in Izwi lama Swazi (The Voice of the Swazi), the vernacular newspaper of the British protectorate of Swaziland (now named Eswatini). Although lacking definitive evidence, it is probable that Kadebona was John J. Nquku, a leading political figure of colonial Eswatini. Kadebona’s 300-plus columns positioned themselves as meeting places for the embryonic Swati nation. In contrast to the closed-door discussions of those in power, Kadebona’s columns styled themselves as transparent platforms for a give-and-take debate among emaSwati (as residents of Eswatini were called). Kadebona not only ‘spoke’ via his columns; he also expected replies on the part of the nation. His column was a space available to all, ‘where the rich and the poor, and where leaders and their followers, all meet’. In a period of debate over the future of the independent Swati nation, Kadebona’s columns encouraged all emaSwati to shape their country, and allowed all perspectives audibility via the column and ‘Letters to the Editor’. At the same time, however, there were distinct limits to the egalitarian public summoned through these articles. While Kadebona encouraged all emaSwati regardless of rank or class to speak up, he was far less welcoming towards other voices, including women and youths. This article provides an introduction to these fraught columns, a small sample of which are presented here, both in their isiZulu original and in English translation (siSwati – the language spoken by emaSwati – had no authorized written form well into the 1960s; instead, the South African isiZulu was used for written communication). In what follows, I provide Izwi lama Swazi’s history, discuss the emergence of Kadebona as a columnist in the 1950s, and comment on some of his key concerns.

Participants in the International Conference on Manding Studies, held at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in summer 1972, were contacted to share memories of the event in recognition of its fiftieth anniversary and while such recollections could still be gathered. An event in honour of fifty years of kora music at SOAS was also documented, bringing the project into the present. The result was a lengthy special feature in MANSA Kibaru, the newsletter of the Mande Studies Association (MANSA), in early 2023. Given the strong positive response from the MANSA community, which has historically looked back to the 1972 conference as a predecessor, it was decided to revise the newsletter’s special feature as a separate publication. This is an account of the process of bringing the commemoration together, the key contributors, and the timing and connections that shaped the outcome. It provides details that do not appear in the published commemoration. Some questions at the beginning of the project were cleared up by the evidence and accounts gathered. The Manding Conference’s ‘filiation’ or influence is touched upon, including the founding of MANSA. The selective and incomplete nature of this ‘memory making’ initiative is acknowledged.