Among the Northern Yaka of Zaïre the office and function of the chief is thought of as prior to and as the source of all things: the chief represents and surpasses his subordinates by his twofold function. First, he is a sovereign ruler who alone personifies unity, perpetuity and high authority. But the chief fails to live up to these chiefly ideals since his physical body ages and he cannot escape death or transcend the succession of generations and political scenes and factions. This failure seems to be remedied, however, not so much by concealing the chiefs bodily transitoriness through a mystifying cult, but by identifying the chief in his body with the origin of the political institutions. Embodying the founding ancestors, the chief ‘re-presents’ or makes present ‘the primal space–time order’ (yitsi khulu). The ruler thus personifies the legitimate political order: he re-presents and imposes the perennial hierarchical social organisation, territorial unity and moral order. In his enthronement and rule, he must re-enact the founding dramas of conquest and life transmission to renew cultural time by linking it to the ‘primal and permanent space–time order’. Sacrificial death, mortuary ritual, rebirth, purification, etc., re-enact the founding dramas and provide transformative metaphors, linking men and women, life and death, inside and outside, ascendant and descendant, before and after, the local territory and Yaka society.

The unexpected death of a citizen in 1977 triggered a series of events in one small Ghanaian kingdom, pointing to confusion in the locally accepted criteria for Christian conversion and to contradictions in the avenues to status and power. Since the deceased was a millionaire businessman, something of a huckster, and a person who was at the centre of an unusually complex constellation of social ties, his death forced the people of his local community to re-examine the relationships between traditional religion and Christianity, and between wealth, religious adherence and the display of status and prestige. There was long and bitter hostility between the two towns to which this man was affiliated by descent. Each town competed for the glory of ; claiming him as a member, and while once he too would have desired that, logically it could not be. There was also perennial conflict between the factions within the kingdom's capital. This enhanced the drama and helped explain the urgency of the respective townspeople's attempts to resolve the underlying structural contradictions which became manifest in the events following the death to their own advantage. At the same time this is the story of a self-made man, unusual largely because of his extreme wealth, who understood conflict and ambiguity, and who manipulated the social structure in which he found himself to his own advantage. The funeral of this one man, who simultaneously entertained contradictory belief systems and juggled opposing attributes of leadership, mobilised the attention of the entire population of both towns. It did so precisely because the ritual of his funeral was used to ‘describe in advance a desired but uncertain state of affairs. It [ritual] is about power and is itself more or less political’ (MacGaffey, 1986: 11, emphasis added).

In the literature and accumulated folk wisdom of development in rural Africa there are numerous instances of government projects which are expensive, ineffective and unpopular. These include now classic failures of the past, such as the Tanganyika Groundnuts Scheme (Wood, 1950; Frankel, 1953), which are still cited as cautionary tales demonstrating the need for proper project appraisal. There are also numerous more recent examples, for the phenomenon of failure has persisted and governments and international agencies continue to implement schemes ‘little better planned than their more spectacularly misbegotten predecessors’ (Hill, 1978: 25). Among recent initiatives in sub-Saharan Africa the large-scale irrigation projects developed in northern Nigeria during the 1970s have attracted particularly extensive adverse criticism. This has focused on the social and economic impact of the introduction of irrigation and particularly on questions of land tenure (inter alia Wallace, 1979, 1980, 1981; Oculi, 1981; Adams, 1982, 1984; Palmer-Jones, 1984; Andrae and Beckman, 1985; Beckman, 1986). A number of accounts discuss technical aspects of the land survey carried out at Bakolori {Bird, 1981, 1984, 1985; Griffith, 1984), while others focus on economic problems (e.g. Etuk and Abalu, 1982). However, although economic and technical aspects of these developments have been criticised, it is the social impacts of project development and more particularly the political responses to those impacts which are of greatest interest (Wallace, 1980; Adams, 1984; Andrae and Beckman, 1985; Beckman, 1986). This paper examines the bature of the response of farmers affected by one of these schemes, the Bakolori Project in Sokoto State.

L'anthropologue, tout comme le géographe, a besoin, pour ses analyses, de collecter des informations sur les sociétés qu'il étudie. En particulier lorsqu'on étudie les sociétés rurales d'Afrique, la collecte de ces informations présente des difficultés. En effet, de nombreux obstacles physiques (l'inaccessibilité, l'inconfort) s'interposent entre l'observateur et l'objet de son étude. Par ailleurs, il existe une forte interaction entre l'observateur et son objet d'étude de telle sorte que ce dernier ne se dévoile pas dans toute son authenticité. Les nouvelles technologies de l'information offrent un outil nouveau et utile pour l'anthropologue à cet égard. Il s'agit des satellites d'observation des ressources terrestres. Ceux-ci permettent d'appréhender avec une grande clarté le milieu rural aménagé par les sociétés agraires. Un outil nouveau signifie également une information nouvelle: la télédétection permet une vision spatiale synoptique (qui embrasse en même temps un vaste territoire) et répétitive d'une région. De nouvelles méthodes d'analyse soumises à une approche écologique et systèmique des civilisations agraires doivent être recherchées pour l'utilisation optimale de cet outil.

Robert Buijtenhuijs's critique of my book Rural Rebels (1977) is interesting because it highlights serious flaws that can be made in critical analysis, among them the ‘I think the writer means’ fallacy, a false dichotomy, reductionism and a disregard for the quality of the data. Since space limitations prevent me from replying to all of Buijtenhuijs's criticisms (his critique is three times longer than my permitted reply) I will limit myself to the aforementioned that are matters of more general concern.