‘GOD HAS TAKEN POWER FROM WHITE MEN THROUGHOUT THE WORLD’

EARLY on the morning of 5 September 1906, at a small asbestos mine in the northern Cape, six African workers entered the tent of their white foreman and his family. They assaulted the sleepers with stones, knobkerries, the leg of a chair and an ox-yoke. The foreman, Dirk Mans, died of his injuries eighteen hours later, while his son, Jan, who had been sleeping in another tent, ran away. Dirk Mans's wife also had a narrow escape. She woke up when a blow narrowly missed the head of her three-year-old child, who was sleeping in her bed. Both could flee in the general mêlée. Another victim, the well digger, William Swanepoel, was bludgeoned to death so ferociously that his skull ‘was entirely knocked out of shape [and] separated in halves’. The perpetrators tried to kill more whites, but dispersed in the ensuing confusion. The six men were tracked down by the police after several days. The Griqualand West Supreme Court in Kimberley sentenced four of the culprits to death; they were hanged in March 1907.

The ringleader of the Hopefield gang, Hendrik Bekeer, told the policeman who had followed his tracks for several days, that ‘he was glad to be caught, although he knew that his life would be at an end’. He could hardly wait to tell the prison warder that the group had planned to kill all whites in South Africa. In court, the eloquent Bekeer explained:

I admit that I am guilty. I, Hendrik Bikier [sic], laid hands on these two souls. I have a craving in my heart which must be made known to everyone. I admit that I am a worker of God. I confess to the Court and all the white people that I am placed here by the Lord, and that I do his will. … The time when the whites had the upper hand is past. This is for Africa alone, but God has taken power from white men throughout the world.

ON the morning of 12 January 1904, shooting started in Okahandja, a small town in German South West Africa, present-day Namibia. When the Herero–German war finally ended four years later, Herero society, as it had existed prior to 1904, had been completely destroyed. In the genocidal war which developed, the Herero were either killed in battle, lynched, shot or beaten to death upon capture, or driven to death in the waterless wastes that make up much of Namibia. Within Namibia, the surviving Herero were deprived of their chiefs, prohibited from owing land and cattle, and prevented from practising their own religion. Herero survivors, the majority of whom were women and children, were incarcerated in prison camps and put to work as forced labourers for the German military and settlers.

Over the years there have been a fair number of works dealing with the causes and effects of the Herero–German war of 1904–8. It has been argued that the loss of land, water, cattle and liberty, coupled with the activities of unscrupulous traders and German colonial officials, steered the Herero into launching a carefully planned, countrywide insurrection against German colonial rule. In brief, ‘in 1904, the Herero, feeling the cumulative and bitter effects of colonial rule in South West Africa, took advantage of the withdrawal of German troops from central Hereroland…and revolted’.

DESPITE the substantial and significant body of scholarly work on changing gender relations among African peoples who are (or were) primarily cultivators, the gender relations of predominantly pastoralist peoples have been, with a few notable exceptions, curiously excluded from historical examination. Instead, despite work which has shown the complexities of trying to determine the ‘status’ of East African pastoralist women, pastoralist gender relations seem to exist outside of history and be immune to change. Earlier anthropological studies that addressed pastoral gender relations applied a synchronic model, analyzing them in terms of either the pastoral mode of production or pastoralist ideology. Harold Schneider, for example, contended that among East African pastoralists, men's control of livestock gave them control of women, who were ‘usually thoroughly subordinated to men and thus unable to establish independent identity as a production force’. In his rich ethnography of Matapato Maasai, Paul Spencer claimed that both male and female Maasai believe in ‘the undisputed right of men to own women as “possessions” ’. Marriage, in his view, was therefore ‘the transfer of a woman as a possession from her father who reared her to her husband who rules her’. Melissa Llewelyn-Davies' study of Loita Maasai women in Kenya corroborated Spencer's findings. Loita Maasai women perceived themselves, and were perceived, as ‘property’, to be bought and sold by men with bridewealth. Llewelyn-Davis argued that ‘elder patriarchs’ used their control of property rights in women, children and livestock to control the production and reproduction of both livestock and human beings. Similarly, in his symbolic analysis of pastoral Maasai ideology, John Galaty contended that Maasai men were the ‘real’ pastoralists, while Maasai women were negatively equated with lower status hunters, providing an ideological explanation for their lower status. Thus, whether they attributed their findings to material or ideological sources (or some combination of the two), few anthropologists questioned the ‘undisputed right’ of contemporary male pastoralists ‘to own women as possessions’.

Omwene hango [the owner of the home] is the only person with true authority to discipline children. So, when your husband died, the authority of omwene hango died with him, and you were left alone.

HISTORIANS of gender have shown the importance of documenting and scrutinizing instances in which gender terminologies are invoked and employed. A compelling instance can be found in an examination of the widows of Maragoli. In this upland rural area of about two hundred square kilometers in western Kenya, the dynamic relations surrounding widowhood provide a useful opportunity to analyze the construction of feminine and masculine categories, as well as the political strategies that emerged out of these categories. Widows in this rural part of Kenya were certainly subject to the limitations imposed on them by the invocation of strict gender categorization – perhaps at this point in their lives more than any other. And yet, surprisingly, these widows were able to use such categories for their own purposes. By expressing their grief publicly – usually in ways that focused on their social and economic needs – Maragoli widows not only reinforced the importance of gender categories but also sought to redress their grievances through these very categories. What is important, though, is that they consciously presented themselves as ‘poor widows’, as idealized stereotypes of suffering females who were believed to become needy and helpless at the death of their husbands. They told their stories in ways calculated to solicit sympathy. And this usually worked to their advantage since it placed men in the difficult situation of having to defend their ‘ideal’ masculinity. Only by helping guarantee the economic livelihood and social status of bereaved widows could men uphold their own self-image. Thus the relationship between them was informed by a reciprocity that suggests that the widows were more than passive recipients of male charity. By presenting their grief publicly so as to solicit relief for their sufferings, widows were actively able to turn what men saw as stereotypical feminine behaviour – emotionality, helplessness and weakness – into strengths. That is, by consciously attempting to make men feel more ‘manly’, Maragoli widows were able – at least partially – to exploit existing gender roles to get what they needed.

IN 1929, the French colonial administration's forced recruitment of labor for two road construction projects designed to create more effective transportation links between the town of Lambaréné on the Middle Ogooué and the colonial post at Mouila on the Upper Ngounié led to food shortages in several parts of southern Gabon. A disturbing pattern had developed over the previous 15 years where colonial demands for labor led to disruptions in the seasonal cycle of agricultural production. Able-bodied men forced to gather forest products or work as porters to pay the head tax, or required to participate in the construction of colonial infrastructure projects, or even willingly employed as laborers in the growing timber industry, could not meet their traditional obligations to clear fields for women farmers during the long dry season (generally June to September), thus leading to poor harvests and food shortages. French officials at the end of the 1920s were especially anxious as the Fang populations in the northern portion of the colony had experienced severe famine several years earlier, partly due to male workers being recruited into the timber industry. Memories of famine occurring between 1916 and 1918 were also quite vivid among the peoples living along the Ngounié. Labor recruitment for the timber industry and colonial infrastructure projects remained a precarious enterprise at the outset of the 1930s. Yet by the 1940s, the most difficult segment of the Lambaréné–Mouila road network – a 50 kilometer stretch through hilly, forested terrain south of Lambaréné – was completed without resorting to forced labor and without the threat of food shortages. The intervening decade had witnessed the final stage of the transformation of Gabonese labor wrought by the French colonial presence, a transformation that broke the pre-colonial system of labor exploitation controlled by clan leaders. At the outbreak of World War II, the process had advanced to the point that there now existed a ‘labor market’ in the French Equatorial Africa federation integrated into the capitalist wage-earning sector and capable of accomplishing infrastructure projects without disastrous consequences for the local population. We argue that the predominance of the timber industry in Gabon placed these developments on a strangely ambiguous path when compared to the growth of capitalist wage-labor in other parts of the continent.

IN most African farming systems, hired workers provide only a small part of the total labor devoted to agricultural production, even today. By and large, farm labor in Africa is still family labor. However, during and after the colonial period, many Africans also ran agrarian enterprises on a scale and in a nexus of social relations far removed from the traditional picture of the smallholder cultivating land with family labor. In Cameroon, Duala and Bamileke entrepreneurs mobilized and incorporated labor for cash crop production, a process that necessitated changes in existing social and political institutions. This article explores these economic activities in their cultural context. It aims to show how specific social and cultural systems together framed or determined entrepreneurial activities and to explain why specific ethnic groups enjoyed – at least for a certain period – disproportionate success in adapting to the opportunities of colonial life. Geographically, the paper concentrates on the Mungo region in the Cameroon littoral, part of the Cameroon ‘fertile crescent’ (Fig. I). Since the beginning of the twentieth century this thinly populated region has been one of the country's most important agricultural centers and, as a result, has attracted a large number of immigrants. Between the 1880s and 1950s, despite fundamental differences in the social and economic organization of their respective ethnic groups, first Duala and then Bamileke entrepreneurs emerged as leaders in the region's agricultural development.

This paper joins a growing number of studies which aim to refine our understanding of the historical dimensions of African entrepreneurship. In development studies this new interest stems from a concern about the weakness of African private enterprise and its contribution to poor economic performance. Many authors see African entrepreneurs not so much as individuals but as social classes which are analyzed in their socio-economic and political context.