To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
Chapter 6 shifts its attention to the southern extremities of the lake and illustrates historical connections tying the lake together from another thematical angle: commercial flows. It examines the broader regional trade networks around Lake Kivu, emphasizing the interconnectedness of Goma and Bukavu in Congo with Gisenyi and Cyangugu in Rwanda. It introduces the concept of a “transboundary space,” shaped not only by colonial border impositions but also by preexisting social, political, and ecological asymmetries. The asymmetries created an “arbitrage economy,” enabling Africans, particularly those close to the border, to exploit differences across regions.
The chapter further considers cattle trade between the center of Rwanda and the westerns shores of Lake Kivu. This cattle trade connected different cultural and ecological zones, fostering commercial interactions long before colonial intervention. The chapter argues that the border accentuated existing disparities, emphasizing differences in the distribution and societal meanings of cattle. Despite colonial attempts to regulate the cattle trade, African traders managed to capitalize on their “liminality” – the ability to inhabit different spheres simultaneously. The chapter further underscores the significance of this “liminality” as it facilitated the negotiation of oppressive colonial structures. At times this “liminality” was embedded in formalized bonds of friendship, sometimes formalized through bloodpacts. Highlighting the everyday impact of borders demonstrates how they could be used to circumvent colonial policies, even though they could never undo the consequences of colonialism.
This book started with two diametrically opposed stories about the relationship between Rwanda and Congo and the population astride them, and two incompatible conceptions of borders. The Vangu report, written in the midst of political turmoil in then-Zaïre, referenced hard and absolute borders between the countries. It portrayed the massive influx of Rwandan refugees after the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi as an “invasion,” as “conquest.” Kilalo’s words, on the other hand, spoke of cross-border connections and friendship, revealing a much more flexible and permeable perception of borders. These two ostensibly contradictory stories are vital to understanding social and political processes in the Lake Kivu region, now and in the past.
This chapter “deprovincializes” the histories of Lake Kivu’s societies in the “frontier”, (present-day Rwanda and Congo), during the second half of the nineteenth century. It challenges the dominant narrative of the “greater Rwanda” thesis, which argues that colonial border-making “amputated” Rwanda from a significant portion of its territory. The chapter shifts the attention to the societies Rwanda claimed were part of Rwanda since centuries. The chapter shows that while the Nyiginya kingdom – Rwanda’s antecedent – indeed increasingly sought to exert control over and integrate some of these societies, especially under mwami [s. King] Rwabugiri, their control was incomplete, at times impermanent, and often contested. Such complexities are overlooked when considered from a state-centric, often ideological perspective premised on the stability of a centralized authority. The histories and memories of local communities within the region defy these narratives and provide critical alternatives to what has been largely accepted as mere prologue. These questions are not merely a matter of historical debate, they remain crucial for understanding contemporary debates. While the geographical complexity of this chapter makes it a challenging read, it is foundational for understanding the historical continuities and contradictions throughout the book.
This chapter examines the crystallization of sociopolitical processes in Rwanda and Kivu during the 1950s, which would undergird political processes into the 1990s and later. Against the backdrop of post-Second World War developments, it is the second chapter of the book to focus on the scheme for “transplanting” Rwandan labor, with the foundation of the Mission d’Immigration des Banyarwanda (MIB) in 1948. Rather than focusing on migrants motivations, it shifts attention to the repercussions of this scheme for the local Hunde community in what was then the Belgian Congo.
After the Second World War, the colonial administration grew increasingly uneasy about the implications of the mass immigration to Kivu. Three key factors drove their concern: intensified land pressure due to colonial policies, elite conflicts exacerbated by these policies, and concerns about the legal status of Rwandan immigrants. These three key factors still define much of the contemporary conflicts in North Kivu and are intimately tied to vernacular “autochthony” discourses.
While the chapter challenges the notions of exclusively antagonistic interactions between “migrants” and “host communities”, it emphasizes that colonial interventions often came with devastating consequences, as Hunde saw themselves being turned into minorities on their own land. Belgian interventions contributed to the politicization of identity and belonging in the struggle for land access and authority. However, the precursors of current-day conflicts were not only the result of this immigration but also of a colonial system of land management that was never fundamentally challenged in the postcolonial period.
To demonstrate the complexities and contradictions laid out in the previous chapter, Chapter 5 zooms in on a colonial scheme to “transplant” – colonial lingo – Rwandans to Masisi (nowadays in North Kivu) to provide labor for the colonial plantations there. Commonly known as “le MIB” (Mission d’Immigration des Banyarwanda), a name that it only started to carry in the second phase, this chapter focuses on the first phase of this scheme between 1937 and 1948. This scheme is often seen as one of the origins of North Kivu’s endemic conflicts, but many details remain shrouded in vagueness. In the first chapter of this book focusing on this scheme, the motivations and experiences of Rwandan immigrants within the broader context of historical mobility and court politics are analyzed. In doing so the chapter argues that many migrants, especially those from the northern extremities of Lake Kivu, were “willing migrants,” exploiting colonial policies for personal interests. It demonstrates that at least for a considerable part of these migrants, labor mobility was not solely a result of colonial initiatives or coercion but also rooted in nineteenth-century patterns of mobility, and often based on previous connections. In doing so, it adds nuance to simplistic narratives of longstanding antagonisms between “autochthons” and newcomers.
Revolutionary movements operated underground before and after national independence in many African countries. A communist party in Burkina Faso, the Parti communiste révolutionnaire voltaïque (PCRV), continued its underground political practice, despite democratic breakthrough. On the basis of long-term research engagement on popular struggle and the fight against impunity, the author used participant observation in street marches, meetings, sit-ins, and so on, and text analysis of pamphlets, declarations, and tracts to analyze how the PCRV is present in anti-imperialist struggles, while being absent in the public sphere.
This article investigates the rules that were put into the mouth of the Buddha by Indian Buddhist jurists in order to differentiate monks from non-Buddhist (particularly Jaina and Ājīvika) ascetics as observed in extant Vinaya literature. It demonstrates that the Buddhist jurists were fully aware of Jaina and Ājīvika modes of asceticism, and that they consciously used legislation as a tool to construct Buddhist identity, particularly through legally differentiating the physical appearance, customs, practices, and even social status of monks from those of their śramaṇic rivals. The Buddha’s prescription of a rule to make monks distinguishable from non-Buddhist ascetics often occurs as an immediate response to the laity’s criticism or misunderstanding. This arrangement indicates that the monastic jurists were concerned not only with differentiating Buddhist and non-Buddhist renunciants, but also with protecting the public image of the Buddhist monastic institution and ultimately with maintaining the laity’s trust and support.
Which ideas about language are prevalent in cultures that are not framed in Western nationalist and literate traditions? How do people conceptualise language if speakers of the same community are multilingual, have access to different language resources and only partially share ideas about what is right and wrong in language? This book explores the 'liquid' properties of language, highlighting how languages, as discursive-material assemblages, can differ in their degree of fixity. It provides a linguistic anthropological study of the language ideologies in Belize, where ethnic belonging and language practice do not necessarily match and where stable language norms are not always considered a value. Scrutinising ethnographic data and examinations of local performances of English, it shows that languages emerge in relation to belonging, prestige and material culture. Bringing to the fore liquid language cultures, it provides important additions to our understanding of late modern language assemblages in a globalising world.
How did people in East Africa come to see themselves as 'Africans,' and where did these concepts originate from? Utilizing a global intellectual history lens, Ethan Sanders traces how ideas stemming from global black intellectuals of the Atlantic, and others, shaped the imaginations of East Africans in the early twentieth century. This study centers on the African Association, a trans-territorial pan-Africanist organization that promoted global visions of African unity. No mere precursor to anti-colonial territorial nationalism, the organization eschewed territorial thinking and sought to build a continental African nation from the 1920s to the 1940s, at odds with later forms of nationalism in Africa. Sanders explores in depth the thought of James Aggrey, Paul Sindi Seme, and Julius Nyerere, three major twentieth-century pan-Africanists. This book rethinks definitions of pan-Africanism, demonstrating how expressions of both practical and redemptive pan-Africanism inspired those who joined the African Association and embraced an African identity.
This article1sets out to reassess the idea, repeated by many scholars, that there was a bishop from the Central Asian city of Qumul (or Hami) who was present in Baghdad around the time when one patriarch of the Church of the East – Makkika II – was buried and another – Denḥa I – was consecrated. After an initial consideration of what we know about the city of Qumul/Hami, we examine the various authors who have held to this idea and the sources, both primary and secondary, which they invoke as proof that the idea is correct. Gradually moving back to the earliest witnesses, we eventually arrive at the Maronite scholar Joseph Assemani’s Bibliotheca Orientalis Clementino-Vaticana and the fourteenth-century primary source, Ṣalībā ibn Yūḥannā. A suggestion is made for how the idea originated and developed, thanks in part to the account of Marco Polo, but more definitively to Michel Le Quien’s Oriens Christianus.
Since the late 2010s, Rwanda has advertised its Visit Rwanda logo on the jerseys of prominent European football teams and has built new sports stadiums to host international sports competitions. Such strategies reflect the practice of sportswashing, which refers to the utilization of sports by political actors to gain global legitimacy while diverting attention from unjust processes occurring in their home countries. Dubinsky analyzes the effectiveness of Rwanda’s sportswashing through the concept of authoritarian image management, arguing that the mutual interests shared between authoritarian and Western actors facilitate the country’s sportswashing, despite the critiques it attracts.