In the rural Adja region of south-west Bénin there is a labour problem. People who want to expand their businesses need cheap and reliable labour, but such labour is difficult to find and to manage. The sort of ‘big men’ known as alo-su amè dji—those mainly interested in investing in and dominating people—would like to keep up the appearance of being a ‘big man’ with many people under their control, but they cannot avoid the modern temptation of aspiring to personal wealth. Their style of management is to use mainly domestic labour, yet they face problems as the young begin to distrust the intentions of their household heads: the latter are suspected of looking after their own interests, while their followers doubt whether they will get a fair share of the assets when there are so many of them in a large family. Furthermore, sons and dependants find a long, very low-paid ‘apprenticeship’ increasingly unacceptable.

There is growing awareness of the difficulties of working with domestic labour and of the splintering effect of redistributing assets between a great many people. A small but growing number want accumulation for themselves and a limited number of descendants. This new style is associated with the sort of accumulators called eho wu amè, people who try to maximise financial gain. They work with much less family than hired labour (and prefer a much lower rate of polygyny). But hired labour at economic rates is not easy to find and there are organisational problems.

This article, based on fieldwork, explores the main economic categories of the Nzema, matrilineal farmers of South West Ghana, with the aim of reconstructing a local economic theory. The starting point is that any economic theory is logically founded in its own principles and that the internal coherence of a theory depends on its ability to represent the interests of the society to which it is applied. The work of ancestors appears as a founding idea in relation to other ideas like that of profit engendered by the work of the living.

The author, however, analyses these categories, particularly emphasising the use of terminology in various contexts of daily life and in the economic lexicon as a whole, in order to trace an unitary space in which the logic of a system of thought could be considered. In order to verify the coherence of this system the author conducts a comparative analysis between the Nzema categories and the corresponding western categories organised as different theories such as neo-classical marginalism, Marx's value of work and, finally, Chayanov's theory founded on an utility concept.

The central core of the Nzema's theory concerning work and profit is that the work of ancestors, first conceived as the ideological and juridical basis for the rights of their descendants over cultivable land, turns as well into a profit producer to the advantage of the living under the condition that it should be materialised as a means of production like, for example, the coconut trees, which were planted by the ancestors, and now produce a profit for their descendants.

Among the Moba of northern Togo, initiation into the voluntary and secret association of Kondi offers men and women a way of achieving a measure of social and ritual power. For the Moba, accepted notions about ancestral authority, specialist knowledge, and the spatial realm of the wilderness inform their concepts of power. One of the ways in which the achievement of power is conceptualised is through the transformation of the individual during the process of initiation into Kondi. Following the tripartite structure of separation, transition and reintegration, Kondi initiation directs the individual through the movement of social space as the initiate's status is transformed from that of a newborn to that of an adult in the community. This transformative process is reinforced in the spatial domains of bush and village in which initiation takes place and in the kinds of dress worn during the various phases of initiation which signal the initiate's dissociation and association with the community. Through the acquisition of esoteric knowledge available only to the initiated, and through the approval of the ancestors who sanction Kondi, members of the secret association are distinguishedfrom the non-initiated and enjoy a measure of power and authority in Moba communities.

This article discusses the context, form and structure of the Igede dirge. Although a minority tribe in Nigeria's Benue State who are little known in anthropological and literary studies, the Igede have a tradition of oral expression that is as vibrant as that of any of Africa's larger language groups. The article thus aims to enlarge our understanding of the corpus of Africa's traditional literature through one of its neglected aspects—the dirges of one of the minority tribes. As a storehouse of Igede beliefs, practices and wisdom the dirge leads us into a world of spirits, a dreadful world of ancestors fearfully conjured up as a universe of monstrous, malignant forces before whom man is a vulnerable being, constantly constrained to plead for protection. But there is genuine creativity in Igede dirges which compares favourably with those found among other peoples of the world.

This is a study of the influence of Yók-Òbòlò on the Andoni of the eastern Niger delta. The origin of the deity is shrouded in mystery, but he is believed to be the Òbólò, the ancestor of the people, elevated on his death to the level of god. Around him there developed a series of socio-political structures. Because their region was a conflict zone, the Andoni developed the military arm of government more than any other, with the result that they were able to survive the pressures of a difficult environment. But their success also had some side effects on the social development of the area. One such effect was that their military achievements inspired fears among some of their neighbours, who described them to Europeans in the delta as ‘too dangerous’ for ‘strangers’ to visit. Despite this artificial description some Europeans visited the area. But overall the result was Andoni isolation from the outside world. Even upon independence in 1960, without a strong core of indigenous, educated personnel, Andoni remained ‘backward’, and Yók-Òbòlòism the main source of inspiration and direction in the people's private and public affairs.

The study of phenomena relating to identity has prompted new approaches to the subject on the part of historians as well as anthropologists. They include the study of ethnicity, a dynamic combination of socio-economic, religious, cultural and political factors. In this regard the population of Freetown is particularly interesting, for it stems from several discrete migrations from the end of the eighteenth century onwards. Some of the immigrants came direct from the African continent, ‘Liberated Africans’ disembarked on the Sierra Leone peninsula, while others, formerly slaves, came from the UK, North America or the West Indies. The result of this diversity of origin was the formation of a very rich and specific society, with a mixture of European, African and West Indian characteristics. Among the town dwellers are those called successively Sierra Leoneans, Creoles and Krio.

Since the 1950s several studies have focused on these people. After a polemical article published in 1977, new research was undertaken. Krio identity, which is at the same time a historical theme and politically contested territory, remains at the heart of the debate. In this article, emphasis is placed on terminology, to address the question of ‘ethnicity’ as applied to those known as Creoles. What were they called by administrators or historians (past and present)? What did they call themselves? How did they react to the various attempts at categorisation? How did the names, which are the visible aspect of ethnicity, evolve? What did the terms really mean and how can one move from a given name to the object it represents? These questions take into account several points of view, from within Krio/Creole society and from outside it.