I'I'I'II'IIIIIIIII.

7415.50.

This is to certify that the

thesis entitled
THE POLITICS OF TRANSFQQDM'I‘ICN:
INDIRECT RULE IN MENDELAND AND
ABUJA 1890-1914.

presented by

Kenneth C. Wylie

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Ph'D'degree in African History

   

Major professor

Date August, 15, 1967

 

0-169

 

  

Micl'ubm State

niversity

 

    

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ABSTRACT

THE POLITICS OF TRANSFORMATION:
INDIRECT RULE IN MENDELAND

AND ABUJA 1890-19114 .

by

Kenneth C. Wylie

This thesis is an attempt to explain why political
transformation in the Upper-Mende areas of Sierra Leone took
such a different form than it did in the Emirate of Abuja in
Northern Nigeria. Using a comparative analysis of adminis-
trative and political systems, functions, titles and roles,
the study proceeds to explain the process of governmental
change under the British system known as Indirect Rule.
Establishing that process by means of an analysis of the
common structural conditions of change, it is examined in
terms of the factors which determined political transition,

or in some cases did not determine it.

 

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Kenneth C. Wylie - 2

The history and background of the two areas is
examined with emphasis on the process of evolution towards
more sophisticated political structures. Variations are
analyzed and the oral traditions compared with surviving
written records. British Imperial expansion is investigated
in detail and applied to the analysis of the process of
transformation in both Mendeland and Abuja and the process

of change is explained in terms of the theory.

The conclusions are that Indirect Rule in Abuja
was less significant as a factor in the process of trans-
formation in the political system than it was in the Mende
Chiefdoms. The usual eXplanation for the "failure" of
Indirect Rule, namely that it could not be applied where
there were no viable native authorities does not apply to
'Mendeland. In fact, Indirect Rule was a "failure" in
Mendeland only in circumstances where direct techniques
were used by colonial officers to affect political change.
In Northern Nigeria where it was a goal of Indirect Rule
to transform the political structure of the Emirates into
responsible "democratic" systems at the same time that their

traditional legitimacy and administrative structure was

 

Kenneth C. Wylie - 3

Dnmerved intact. Indirect Rule was not the "success"

ithas been popularly deemed to have been. On the con-

tmuy it was a success only in terms of the last of these
gals. In Northern Nigeria Indirect Rule has been much more
ofa failure in fact, eSpecially in light of what has

hmmened in subsequent decades.

THE POLITICS OF TRANSFORMATION:
INDIRECT RULE IN MENDELAND

AND ABUJA 1890-191“.

 

b y . {1'7
r

by
Kenneth cf Wylie

A Thesis
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree of

Doctor of PhiIOSOphy

Department of History

 

I967

 

 

PREFACE

This study is the result of a year's field work
in Sierra Leone and Nigeria during 1965-1966. The essay
was conceived during a two year span of graduate studies
in African History at Michigan State University, under the
guidance of the scholars at the African Studies Center.
It is a dissertation towards the fulfillment of a Ph.D.
in African History under the direction of Professor James
R. Hooker of the Department of History, who has carefully
read the entire manuscript, and who has been involved as
an adviser in the entire process of the research and
writing.

Though my original intent was to do a comparative
study of transition in traditional governmental forms in
lendeland (both in Sierra Leone and Liberia) and Northern
Nigeria, time limitations and difficulties in the field
have limited the work to only two regions; Kailahun Dis-

trict in Sierra Leone and AbuJ a Emirate in Northern

11

111

Nigeria. In retrOSpect it is clear that the original plan
was far too ambitious, and in fact, one year is scarcely
enough time to do a complete research Job on the rather
limited areas which this study represents.

After having had nearly all my field and archive
notes stolen in Freetown in December of 1965, I followed
the advice of Mr. Michael Crowder, Director of the African
Shunes Institute at Fourah Bay College, Sierra Leone, and
tfimreafter limited myself to only a few aSpects of govern-
nmntal transition in the areas mentioned above. Perhaps
the loss of the notes was not so disastrous as it then
named, because I was thereby forced to reduce the sc0pe of
Unastudy to something like a workable range of geographical
areas and political institutions.

Another concession to the pressure of time and the
swam of the study was my decision to produce a less de-
taihxianalytic essay of politica- transition. I have
‘Uwrefore avoided extensive use of comparative tables, of
statistical correlations, and of ethnographic charts in
tmanmde of M. G. Smith or Lloyd Fallers. The nature of

thedissertation has made a limited number or these

 

iv

techniques unavoidable, for which I offer no apology, for
they should be more plentiful in any comparative research
into political transformation. Since this is intended as
an historical essay, the use of specialized Jargon has
been avoided where possible. It is my hope, nevertheless,
that it will provide some significant insights into the pro-
cess of transformation in traditional political systems
for the political scientist as well as the anthropologist.

I must here acknowledge my debt to M. G. Smith,
though I assume he does not know it, for the many insights

and techniques provided by his fine book, Government in

 

Zggggg. I hepe he will excuse my rather liberal use of
certain aspects of his own analytical framework, if by
chance he ever reads this study. I am afraid I was not
always able to maintain his exacting anthropological
standards. I remain, faithful however, to his view that
an anthropological approach to history is the best method
hastudy African political or social institutions.

To Professor James R. Hooker I owe the most pro-

found debt of gratitude for his tireless patience over

 

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many years of graduate study at Michigan State, for his
incisive criticism at every stage in this study, for his
help in getting the grant which made a field trip possible,
for his moral support when things appeared hopeless, and
above all for his personal friendship, which he has not
allowed to get in the way of an insistent standard of
criticism.

To Professor Marc Swartz of Nichigan State's
African Studies Center, I offer my thanks for his tough
and well-taught courses in anthropology, without which I
could never have done this work.

Professors Michael Crowder and H. F. C. Smith were
helpful in Sierra Leone and Northern Nigeria respectively,
in.getting no started in the archives, and generously
offered personal advice. Both provided personal letters
of’introduction to the necessary local authorities.

To Patrick Gains and Abdullahi Kassem I owe more
than I can acknowledge for their intelligent work as
interpreters, aides, guides, and companions in the field.

This work is truly theirs as much as it is mine. I should

 

 

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vi

also like to thank Paramount Chief Jibao Gaima, A. S.
Ganowa and Augustin Songu all of Baiwala in Des Chiefdom;
and, especially Mr. John Khoury of Jojoima in Malena Chief-
dom for his generous efforts on my behalf. And, to the
P.C.V.’s of Kailahun and Abuja I offer my appreciation for
welcome diversion and friendship.

My informants in both Sierra Leone and Nigeria are
to numerous to mention here, but I would like to single
cmt Alhaji Hassan, Dallatu of Abuja for his consistent
support during my stay in Abuja and for'his generous and
cheerful time. To me he personifies the hospitality that
is so characteristic of his people.

I should also like to thank Alhaji Sulaimanu Barau,
ouiEmir of Abuja for his interest in my work and his
generosity in opening every possible channel to make the
field work successful and for providing official sanction
to my studies in Abuja.

The field research was carried out on a Hinnan
F°11°V3hip from the History Department, and an International

Studies Program Fellowship from the African Studies Center,

vii

at Michigan State University. I am grateful to the Uni-

versity for providing me with this chance.

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page
PREF‘CE O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 11

Chapter
I. INTRODUCTION 0 O O O O O O O O O O O O O 0 O 1

II. TWO 19TH CENTURY PATTERNS . . . . . . . . . 25

The Hands Chiefdoms ....................... 25
The Pattern in Mendeland ................. 3A
The Pattern in Abuja ..................... 57

III. GOVERNMENT IN 19TH CENTURY MENDELAND . . . . 71

The Structure in General ................. 71
The HierarChy 00.000.000.000...0.0.000...0. 91
Administration ‘OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO0.000...... 106

IV. GOVERNMENT IN 19TH CENTURY ABUJA . . . . . . 120

'The Governmental Structure ............... 121
The Administrative System in Abuja ....... 129
Political Power in Abuja ................. 135
Some Considerations on Local Government

in 19th Century Abuja ................... 1&6
A Brief Comparison of the Two Systems ..... 162

V. THE BRITISH IN MENDELAND 1890-1900 . . . . . 169

The Background ........................... 169
The Hut-Tax Rebellion eeeoeeeoeooeoeeooeooo 190

viii

Chapter

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

>4

 

THE BRITISH IN ABUJA O O O O O O O O O O O O O

Lugard, Imperialism and the Conquest of
Abuja .....................................

The Administrative Officers and the Pattern
of Government .............................

THE PROCESS OF TRANSFORMATION IN MENDELAND
1896.191’4 0 e e e e e e e e e e o e o e o o 0

Early British Policies .....................
Unplanned Changes that Became Institution-
alized .OOIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIOOOOOOOOOOO

Planned Changes that Became Institution-

alized OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO0.0.0.0.000...

THE PROCESS OF TRANSFORMATION IN ABUJA
1902-191“ 0 o o e a e e e e o o e e o o e e 0

British Policy in Abuja .....................
Some Unplanned Changes Which Were
Institutionalized .........................
Some Planned Changes Which Were
IDStitUtionalized coo-oasesoeeoooeeooeoooee
Some Planned Changes Which Failed to Persist.

MENDELAND AND ABUJA: A STUDY IN CONTRASTS . .

Abuja 0.0.0.000...0.0...OOOOOOOOIOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mendelarld 00.000.000.000...000.000.0000....O.
A Comparative Analysis .....................

CONCLUSION O O O O O O O O O O O 0 O O O O O 0

ix

Page

206

206

230

21m
21m
252

270

295
295
307

318
330

3A1
3&1
353
363

372

Maps
19th Century Tribal Map of Sierra Leone .......
Mende Chiefdoms: Approximate Boundaries
before 1896 .................................
Abuja: Approximate extent in 1900 .............
Mende Chiefdom Boundaries Kailahun District ...
Abuja and surrounding Emirates - Present Day ..
Appendices
A Selections from Chronicle of Abuja . . . .‘. .
B Mcnde Chiefdom Organization . . . . . . . . . .
C Genealogical Table of the Habe Emirs of
Abuja . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
D Some Examples of Oral Testimony . . . . . . . .
E A Typology for Classifying Oral Tradition . . .

BIBLIOGRAPHY O O O O O O O O O O O O O O ' O O O O O O O O

Page

27

59
161
29"
3M0

381

N02

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458
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CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

It is manifest that in certain kinds of historical
research, the scholar can no longer depend upon the more
traditional techniques. In African History this is espe-
cially so, for the scarcity or absolute lack of written
records requires a different approach. The historian in
Africa must use all the standard means as well as the
new, including some which normally have been reserved
for other disciplines.

This study is such an attempt. It is the result
of field research extended over a year in Sierra Leone and
Nigeria. It combines many of the techniques used by the
anthropologist and political scientist with those of the
traditional historian. About this there is nothing unique;
for the use of oral tradition, the application of the com-
parative method to the problem of historical analysis, and

the use of anthropological field methods, are not new to

historians in Africa. However, the combination of these
methods into a general theory which explains the transi-
tion of governmental patterns over a period of time has

only recently begun. In his monograph, Government in

 

Zazzau, M. G. Smith provided some basic guidelines for
future studies of this type. Smith's work, though anthro-
pologically oriented, covers a definite period of history
and is the result of an unusual historiographical approach.
As such it provides some useful hints, especially for the
theoretical aspects of this present study.

This study is an attempt to construct a general
theory of governmental transition as it happened within
two African systems. What is perhaps unique here is the
comparative approach (using two quite different political
and cultural systems),.and the resulting conclusions. In
practice this approach has proved to be a sound one and I
believe the results Speak for themselves. They should be
valuable in other studies along the same lines, for, as
Smith says: "The analysis and comparison of governmental
systems which are historically successive and which form

a single developmental series can contribute much to

the general study of government."1

To this, one could add that an extension of the
analysis and comparison to include two radically differ-
ent systems which deve10ped under the same external influ-
ences and at the-sale period of time, might be equally
fruitful. Furthermore, if the theoretical considerations
hold true, the method ought to bear extension to a wide
variety of other system in transition, not just in Africa,
but in any area where traditional government was not
destroyed by colonial authority.

The two areas compared in this study were chosen
for the following reasons. Kailahun District in Sierra
Ieone is a border area of what used to be called Upper
Wendeland. It is adjacent to both Guinea and Eiberia,
and for a long time it has been an area.of flux, a frontier
of lende culture and a point of conflict and contact with
the cultures and peoples to the north and east. It is

therefore a good place for research on governmental

1H. G. Smith, Government in Zazzau (London, 1960),
Do 33.

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transition. The influences which have acted on it are
both evident and striking, in contrast to other more pro-
tected and isolated areas in Hendeland. The District
also was one of the last places in the interior of Sierra
Leone to be penetrated by European influence, and the
arrival of the British provides a sharp breaking point

and a pattern of change which lends itself well to analy-
sis. And, finally, the area around Kailahun, particularly
the chiefdoms which figure in this study, was, prior to
the British arrival, marked by a rather rapid and decisive
transitional process of its own. Luawa Chiefdom was well
waits way to becoming a centralized pseudo-state, when
the British came in 1890.

Abuja is an equally obvious choice, though for dif-
ferent reasons. Culturally it shares little with the Mende
Chiefdoms. The Rondo are pagan (more recently Christian,
at least nominally, with some Muslim‘converts in the extreme
north), the Hausa are Muslim. The two are about 1,500 miles
apart, and have had no direct contact. Though similar in
tODography, climate and economy, the two areas are worlds

aDart socially and politically. Abuja possesses some unique

 

 

a“

. n

v

qualities of its own. It is a former fief of the Kingdom
of Zazzau, which after the Fulani conquest in 180A, became
the seat of a new state under Zazzau's former Hausa (Hebe)
rulers. It is also a borderline area extending deep into
the middle-belt region of Nigeria which separates the
Islamic North (often called the "Holy north”) from the
”pagan” south. It is an area of many pagan tribes domi-
nated by an elite of Habe immigrants whose government is

a highly developed, stable, institutionalized, historically
ancient state system. It incorporates many other features,

cultural and geographical, which will make the choice more

obvious as this study progresses.

The points of contrast between these two areas are
obvious, but they have one thing in common that is decisive.
They both were governed after the British occupation by the
system known officially as Indirect Rule. The colonial
government first applied an almost identical system to
both of them on the premise that (like the areas adjacent
to them in both Sierra Leone and Nigeria) they possessed
viable systems of government of their own. There the simi-

larities cease. The results, however, have not been as

obvious as one would expect. Around the words Indirect
Rule an aura has develOped which has often obscured reality.
Few who have written about it and its application to a
variety of situations, have been either objective or
detached (if such a thing is indeed possible). Even today,
discussions on the subject provoke violent defense and
violent attack. Perhaps one of the reasons for this is
that a point by point comparative study of how Indirect
Rule was applied to two quite different systems, in two
different colonial protectorates, located half a continent
apart, has rarely been attempted. It is hapod that this
study will throw some light on the subject, and in future
one will be able; to discuss that awesome and sacred phe-
nomenon with a degree of rationality.

Now let us look at some theoretical and metho-
dological considerations. One can begin by stating as a
Working hypothesis that all governmental changes are the
result of transformation in the means and distribution
01‘ power within a system of government. Therefore changes
in form are the result of political action by individuals

01‘ 81'oups within the political structure itself. This is

 

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evident in the works of Smith, and it can be easily demon-
strated if necessary, by his three "laws of structural
change . "2

But this is not enough. If we are to compare two
quite different systems in their transitional process, we
nmst also find a theoretical means by which to compare them
point by point. Like Smith we have found it necessary to
(xmcentrate on the process of change. Any detailed histor-
ical study of this process must proceed from an analytical
unthod, and here again an adaptation of the system used by

Emuth in his book, Government in Zazzau, has been found use-

 

ful. So the analysis has proceeded from a set of categories
<xnwtructed before and during the field work, and applied

in practice to that work. These categories and their
application to the methodology will be explained in due
(unuse. Thus it was possible, as the study reached its
final stages in the field, to compare the common structural

C301'lditions of change using some of Smith's categories as

2
Smith, Zazzau, p. 331-

well as some set up independently, and to construct a
general hypothesis.

Thus: The degree of transformation under Indirect
Rule is determined according to the level of institutional
development in the system in question. Here the tradi-
tional system itself, its historical traditions and the
process of transformation are decisive. Therefore admini-
strative changes introduced through Indirect Rule are or
are not effective in causing transformation in the system
of government according to the degree of stability, and
the institutional level of the traditional governmental
structure. Hence the ability of a,traditiona1 govern-
mental structure to influence its own transformation de-
pends upon its degree of structural organization, its
institutional development and stability, and the political
action of individuals or groups within it.

This conceptual framework is not complete however,
Without a marriage of the methodology to the theory. In
Abuja there is a written Chronicle which can be used as a
traditional historical document. In conjunction with this

are the archives from colonial days. But, much more is

needed. Nendeland has no written traditions and the ar-
chives are scarce. So the major source had to be oral
tradition. As it worked out in practice, oral tradition
became a major source in Abuja as well. For the historian
in Africa there is already plenty of precedent for its use.
Anthropologists have often used it in their microscopic
studies of societies of all sorts, or as an introduction
to depth studies of the functions and components of a
society. In recent years oral tradition has been used
more often by historians, particularly Professor J. Vansina,
who has defined it as follows: ". . . testimonies of the
past which are deliberately transmitted from mouth to mouth
concerning past events distinct from rumors."3

Here is a rich store which, if correctly checked
and interpreted, fill gaps which are otherwise impossible
to fill. Vansina in his book, Oral Tradition, has gone
80 far as to construct a typology of oral tradition which

thifl‘writer found enormously useful in the field.’ Thus

3s. Vansina, “Recording the Oral History of the

Bakuba,‘ Jr. of African Hist., I-II (1961), 165.

'See Appendix E.

 

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10

the collected oral data was classified wherever possible
under the following major categories: Formulae which
include Titles, Slogans, Didactic Formulae and Ritual
Formulae; (these are scarce in Mendeland, rich in Abuja);
Ligtg_which include place names and personal names; 23133
which could be called General, Local, Family, Aetiological

myths, and Personal memories; and, Commentaries which

 

include Precedents, Explanations and Occasional Comments.“
Once a means of classifying oral data was established a
method to analyze it was necessary. Here also many of
Vansina's ideas were useful.‘ Such things as: comparison
of distortion in the testimony, differences between "offi-
cial” and "private" traditions, performing before an
audience, appraisal of the cultural values of the testi-
monies and the idea of historical "truth," were all put to

extensive use.5

aJ. Vansina, Oral Tradition (Chicago, 1965),

pp 0 76-80 e

51bid., pp. 76—93.

 

11

This turned out to be an effective system of re-
search, stimulating in practice and often fruitful in its
results. As another scholar has pointed out, in our own
Western culture the study of history involves a way of look-
ing at the past, an intention as to its use, and the $22
of producing a cognitive result, or a history. Among most
societies in Africa the past is believed to be the "reposi-
tory of all important sacred and secular knowledge, and the
act of retrospection is the duty of qualified men of wisdom
who are expected to apply their accumulated memories to the
solution of problems confronting the living present."6

Ultimately the two are alike, both oral tradition
and Western civilization's archive-rich documentation of
history are pursuing the same function. And equally impor-
tant for the historian in Africa, oral tradition can easily
bring into the research an understanding and comprehension
of a society which may seem quite alien to one accustomed
to the varied sources common to Western society.

6

W. d'Azevedo, "Uses of the Past in Gola Discourse,"
Mmal of African History, III (1962), ll.

l2

Equally important in a study of this sort is the

fact that oral tradition provides a means for the scholar
to interpret local (or state) history from the viewpoint of

the people themselves. Smith's comments on this problem

are worth quoting:

As my story of the economy of Zaria progressed I
found that my interpretation of the modern political
system diverged increasingly from that held by local
officers of the British Administration. We seemed

to interpret the same facts differently and gave them
different values. The resulting views were a contrast,
without any clear reason for prefering.either. . . .
Historical data should see which of these competing
viewpoints was more consistent with traditional
patterns of government; and presumably the greater
consistency might extend to the present. . . .

One reading gave a picture of sweeping change despite
preservation of many old patterns. The other was much
the reverse. In the first view, the new system en-
Joyed deep popular support and was internally har-
Ienious. In the second this was not so. The first
interpretation invested this system with high stability,
the second emphasized the reverse.7

Perhaps this problem is a result of direct difference
in intent between the modern scholar and the colonial admini-

strator'who always interpreted things to prove his point or

- 7Smith, "Field History among the Hausa,” Jr. of

9&3“ Hist., I (1961), 88-89.

of.

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13

bolster his own status, but it is also more and more obvious
as new techniques of research supplement the old reliance

on colonial documents stored in archives. In the same article
quoted above, Smith goes even further when he says that the
most recent observations by colonial administrators "repre-
sented a script which could be read with equal ease and in-
telligibility from left to right or from right to left, only
to give contradictory results."8 It is even more obvious
that where written records are even less available than in
Hausaland, the reaction of the local inhabitants to events
forced upon them by history lies buried in their conscious-
ness (thus part of their legends, tales and myths) and the
scholar must find it. He must listen, record, transcribe,
and he must study the culture and learn the language if
possible, and master the techniques of oral research. If
colonial officials preferred to "read the script from right
to left," that is, to interpret Indirect Rule as a harmonious
means of preserving popular support and of transforming a

traditional political system.into a modern one, then it is

BIbIde ’ ppe 88-89 0

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also clear that they rarely concerned themselves with African
interpretations or reactions to change. As others have
discovered in work of this nature it is the will and action
of men that is the driving force of history. Men are the
only prime movers, and even the institutions which provide
the means of analysis are subject to individual men with all
their loyalties, deceit, courage, cruelty, desire for power
and loves and hates. The incredible thing is that for decades
officials and their official historians neglected the possi-
bility that history existed for many African peOples.' Few
suggested that oral tradition as well as other local sources
of tradition could be ”humanistic” just as their schoolboy
readings of Henry V or Joan of Arc might be.

In this study therefore, every effort has been made
‘uainvestigate the influence of individuals on the process
<u'transition, as well as the institutions they represented
(or opposed). And this includes individuals outside the
traditional system itself, such as the British officials who
influenced the process one way or another. After this the
application of the method to the field was relatively

Silple, though a good deal of experimentation continued at

1“

 

 

15

first. In Kailahun District and in the National Archives
in Freetown, a fair number of administrative records were
available, including such things as the historical outlines
in district notebooks and assessment reports. There were
also detailed accounts of administrative actions by the
political officers, and of policy changes and innovations.
In Abuja and in the National Archives at Kaduna, written
records of all sorts were abundant, including monthly reports,
extensive historical notes, king-lists (both in Hausa and
English) and individual reports by political officers from
the top down. There was also the Chronicle of Abuja,
compiled by Shua'ibu Naibi and Alhaji Hassan, Dallatu of
Abuja, which proved one of the richest sources of all.

Then, as a basis for inquiry the written data was
classified according to three basic categories; unplanned
changes which were institutionalized, planned changes which
were institutionalized and planned changes which failed to
persist. Also_a list of current offices was compiled in
Hendeland, divided into two groups, one of pro-British titles,

one for those created in this century. Thus (as "Smith had

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16

already done in Zaria) a serviceable inventory of offices

was created to serve as a framework for further study. All
investigation of written material was directed along these
systematic lines, in both Sierra Leone and Nigeria. As for
the oral part of the field research, introduction to the
District Office and Paramount Chief (Luawa) in Kailahun and
to the Emir of Abuja were obtained. Both of these men then
helped provide local introductions to chiefs, headmen and a
wide variety of elderly informants. For the personal inter-
views the same structural approach as used in the archive
research was adopted, though obviously different techniques
were needed. Instead of asking each informant questions
about the various units of study, such as offices, reigns,
lineages, and institutions, questions were constructed to
provide data for each of the three categories of change
(Smith) and to fit Vansina's typology. This made it possible
to fit the data into the historiographical method; i.e., to
compare the oral tradition to the written data. All questions
were also designed with the aim of later comparison of the
results of one tradition with another, particularly versions

of the same events by different men. Always, as in the

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research into the written sources, the process of change was
elphasised. In some cases, where the data were extremely
detailed (full of personal and place names, et cetera) it
was later classified to fit into lesser categories such as:
tribute and taxation, powers and Jurisdiction of title
holders, Judicial and legal, war and foreign affairs, et
cetera.'. Because all these are specific data,-they are
objective and help to define the structure as it changes.

Of course, many adaptations were necessary for the difference
in the two societies studied. These will become evident in
the text.

Perhaps the worst problem was in the interviews them-
selves. A word‘about then would be in order. In all three
Mende Chiefdols, co-Operation was fornally obtained from the
respective Paramount Chiefs. In Luawa Chiefdon however, a
”dispute" had been going on for months, the town was patrolled
regularly by upwards of 100 riot police, and the Paramount
Chief resigned under pressure (the majority of the peeple were

convinced of his guilt after an investigation into his

I
See Appendix E.

b.

It.

 

s.,

,3

18

practices). Under these conditions any work in the chiefdom
was almost impossible for more than four months. Eventu-
ally after a regent was appointed, a start was made in
Kailahun town (also District headquarters, and in which the
writer had a permanent residence). But even then detailed
co-operation and information was attained only by my identi-
fication with the faction which had opposed the former
Paramount Chief, and which expected to win the coming elec-
tion of a new Chief. Naturally the data gathered in this
manner have a certain bias.

In the meantime research‘was carried out extensively
in two outlying Chiefdoms, Dea' and Malena, both located
near the Liberian border to the south of the District head-
quarters. In Des the most fruitful results were obtained,
partly because of the co-operation of Paramount Chief Jibao
Gaima, a former police officer and a highly energetic and
educated man. .His understanding of my purpose paved the way
for a steady stream of elderly informants. Eventually of

course, attention was fixed on'a few of the most reliable

a
Bee is also spelled Dia in some official records.

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l9

and informed savants, and this pattern was repeated else-
where. Because of this, references to Bailawa and other
towns and divisions in Des Chiefdom are more numerous than
in the other chiefdoms studied (See Appendix).

In Malena Chiefdom nominal co-operation was achieved
from the start, though it soon developed that I was suspected
of being an informer for the government, spying on the Para-
mount Chief. It is not difficult to imagine where this rumor
originated, for the Paramount Chief (hereafter designated as
P.C.) was a highly conservative old man. He gladly acted
as an informant on several occasions, but the limited suc-
cess achieved in Malena, was the result of the energy, com-
prehension and support of my aide and interpreter, who
possessed an excellent education and an avid personal interest
in history, and a penetrating analytical talent for finding
facts. He even went so far as to collect data on his own
while I was on trek elsewhere.‘ The other difficulties are
too numerous or petty to mention, and they are the kinds of

problems attendant on field research of this sort in the "bush."

a
Appendix D.

K.

20

The experience in Abuja Emirate was different
indeed. The Emir's introduction and the aid and almost
daily support of his brother the Dallatu, AlhaJi Hassan (co-
author of the Chronicle), produced a daily volume of data
almost double that obtained in Sierra Leone. In addition,
as mentioned above, Abuja has a rich historical tradition
and even boasts an Historical Society. I was given quarters
in a compound adjacent to the Emir's own residence, a place
called the Unguwar Galadima. Hence I lived right in the
old town and had immediate access to all sources of local
information. Various title holders in the Abuja government
were in fact my immediate neighbors. This was in direct
contrast to my situation in both Luawa and Dea Chiefdoms
where I lived respectively with expatriots and in the local
rest-house, accommodations not being available elsewhere.

In Malena Chiefdom I was able to live in the P.C.'s own
compound, but this hardly compensated for the other obstruc~
tions.

It would be difficult to exaggerate the hospitality
afforded me in AbuJa and the great interest which a variety
of people took in the work. The Dallatu himself gave im-

measurable hours to interviews, discussions of the Chronicle,

 

21

and even random conversation. He also helped make up

the daily schedule of interviews with the elderly men

and savants who knew the oral traditions. Because of

his experience in these matters (he has also acted as

M. G. Smith's primary_informant on Abuja, though Smith
never visited Abuja and communicated with the Dallatu by
mail) Mallam Hassan often went over my notes with me at

the end of a week's work. His insights and suggestions,

as well as his profound knowledge of Abuja's government,
were invaluable., The Emir, Alhaji Sulaimanu Barau, also
extended his personal hospitality and help, once graciously
entertaining as at his compound at Jiwa, where he maintains
a farm.and country-retreat. On this occasion I was able to
observe the administration of present-day Abuja government
in action, and listen in on the procedure as the Emir went
about his daily business.

In all the various places, hospitality.was over-
whelming. Often efficiency was not achieved until I had
been accepted as-a valid--if eccentric and temporary--part
of the community, but the traditional West-African warmth

made this task always a pleasant one.

22

Most of the interviews were conducted with the
aid of an interpreter and without the use of a tape-
recorder. It was convenient to limit most sessions to the
three essential persons (or when I conducted them myself,
to the interviewee and myself), and often the early meet-
ings were only friendly chats. This varied a great deal
according to the informant. Some were so eager to talk
that it was necessary to take notes from the first; with
others a kind of‘testing period was necessary. It was vital
to obtain the age and status of the informant, and to classify
his method of transmission, to attempt an appraisal of any
likely distortions, i.e., the intention or lack of inten-
tion behind the testimony, the significance attached to it,
its form and the literary category to which it belonged,
and the manner in which the testimony was delivered. Here
again vansina's guidelines for understanding the testimony
were useful.“ For those which could be classified as "fixed
texts,” that is testimony recited by rote, or those which

included other formal factors, the tape-recorder was of

'See Appendix E.

23

course used. Occasionally the recorder was helpful in
organizing testimonies in which a motif was repeated or
some obvious internal structure became apparent. As Vansina
says: "Most oral texts . . . have an internal pattern of
arrangement set forth in accordance with certain rules."9
Episodes, plot, motif, setting and theme are concepts which
have almost unlimited use in analyzing a tale, even when
the testimony is only a few generations old. This throws light
On how the testimony was transmitted, and serves as a guide
for purposes of comparison. As Vansina points out, the
ngort of a testimony is also very important, for it is one
of the tasks of the historian, ”to find out to what extent
a testimony is affected by these . . . social, cultural and
personal factors.”10

The details as to time, place and duration of an
interview varied a great deal. There seem to be no hard
and fast rules on this, though it was my experience that

that any session of more than two hours was too long for

efficient analysis .

9Vansina, Oral Tradition, p. 57-

1°Ib1d. , p . 76.

2“

The unexpected and esoteric nature of many testi-
monies, the character and experience of many of the infor-
manta, not to mention a host of exotic and fascinating
settings, combined to make the recording of this history

a never-ending and often exhilarating adventure.

I.

'A

s

-
I‘.‘O

 

CHAPTER II
TWO NINETEENTH-CENTURY PATTERNS

The Mende Chiefdoms of Kailahun District in Sierra
Leone, and Abuja Emirate in Northern Nigeria lie half a
continent apart. The former lies near the extreme westward
extension of the coast rain-forest belt of West Africa, the
latter lies deep in central Nigeria, on the northern edge
01’ the riverain country which tapers gradually into orchard
bush throughout Nigeria's "Middle-belt." Kailahun District
has long been an isolated "pagan" area, only recently pene-
trated by Islam and Christianity. Abuja is part of the
Islamic culture of Hausaland, though most of its people are

pagan even to this day.

The Mende Chiefdoms

Physically the two areas have a lot in common.
Kailahun District is situated in the extreme easterncorner
of Sierra Leone where the boundaries of Guinea and Liberia
and Sierra Leone come together in a great 1. On the north

25

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26

the flea River forms the boundary with Guinea and on the east
the uncertain Liberian frontier meanders southward from
relatively open savanna country near Guinea deep into the
rain-forest which envelops the Loma mountains and extends
through Liberia to the sea. It is a green, yet rugged
terrain, rising in some places to more than 3,000 feet above
sea level in the northeast, and dominated throughout its.
central and southern half by great tracts of deep forest
interspersed with farms and an occasional range of wooded
‘ ,_
hills. Everywhere the landscape is broken by looming
granite outcroppings, some in the northeast large enough
to be called mountains. A few, like the locally famous
Bumma, rise almost sheer from the surrounding plains and
.forest patches and dominate the thickly wooded watercourses
'which cut deep green swathes towards the Moa. They are the
kind of bald-looming mountains that from a distance, on a
Clear day, given an impression of magnitude all out of pro-
Dortion‘to their size.

The-climate is typical of the coast. Two alterna-

ting rainy and dry seasons divide the year into almost

GUINEA

     
  

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28

equal halves, and the resulting agricultural cycle is
accordingly marked into two seasons. The rainy season of
planting and cultivating, lasts from early May until late
October. The long dry spell begins with harvest and is
succeeded in January or February by the cold misty inter-
lude called the harmattan (when it may be as low as #0
degrees F. at night), and ends with the hot dry aftermath
in March and April.

It is a pleasant place, rather more pleasant to all
the senses than most of coastal West Africa.

The food crops are primarily upland rice, cassava
(maniac), corn, ground-nuts, beans and a variety of greens;
in recent years cash crops such as cocoa, coffee, and palm
kernels, have become important. The land is relatively
fertile in places, and lends itself best to the typical
shifting cultivation, by the slash and burn method, though
tree crops give increasing yields with little extra care.
Hunting is a rather rare and very specialized task, though
all the area abounds in small game and birds. The popula-
tion is mostly Mende, with three Kissi Chiefdoms in the

northeast, and a few Gola living in the Mende Chiefdoms to

'.

LL

29

the southeast. It has been sparsely pepulated by Mende-
Speaking peOples for only about two centuries or less,
though its pOpulation has grown in the last century until
the density is now as high as that of central Mendeland
(around Bo).

Until the British arrived in the 1890's, the district
had long been a battleground between the dominant Mende and
the various peOples that border it. Raids by Malinke
(Mandinko) and other savanna peoples from the north, as well
as from the related Kissi and the Gola in Liberia to the
east were common. The pOpulation had therefore been in a
relative state of flux and new infusions of blood and cul-
mue were usual. This vast section of "Upper Mendeland"
vms, in short, a frontier outpost of Mende culture. As a
geographical frontier and a cultural borderland, as well as
axxflitical border, Kailuhun District is an ideal place for
zicomparative study of the sort attempted here.

Nearly 1,500 miles to the East, Abuja Emirate lies
hithe almost exact geographical center of Nigeria. It is
bordered on the north by Zaria Province, on the west by

Lapai and Keffi, on the east by Benue Province, and it

30

forms the westward extension of Niger Province. Technically
the Emirate straddles the euphemistic "middle-belt" of
Northern Nigeria which separates the heavily forested south
from the open savannah of the "Holy North." But Abuja has
been linked for centuries with the history, culture and
economy of Hausaland. Physically the Emirate is super-
ficially similar to Kailahun District in Sierra Leone,

though more varied and contrasting in topography. It is

for the most part high, rolling, orchard-bushland (savannah),
especially in the northern half, rising upwards of 3,000
feet. Unlike Kailahun District however, it has little rain-
forest (though the two or three isolated tracts which do
remain are spectacular and towering pockets of climax
vegetation). It is similar to Kailahun District in its

high hills and granite isulbergs, its rivers and gorges

and countless small wooded streams. .From any high eleva-
tion, the landscape extends for miles over the open bush,
rolling and swelling to long ridges and dominated always by
the giant isulbergs. It is a scenic and unforgettable place,
fertile, healthy even to Europeans, and cool. The unexpected

variations in its topography are often delightful and there

__—-—'

'km—

31

are three ever-changing, spectacular waterfalls on the Iku,
Gurara and Tafo rivers. From almost anywhere within a
radius of fifteen miles, one can see the great dome of gums
rock thrusting its sheer grooved walls 1,000 feet into the
sky. When the thunderheads of the early rainy season come
down over the hills, it is a memorable experience, and the
green fertility of the country-side, cut by the red laterite
roads and paths, add to a general impression of beauty.
Abuja's potential as a tourist attraction has long been

recognized and only‘recently.has it been exploited at all.

The climate is alternating wet and dry, like that
of Kailahun (it lies just north or the 8th meridian, on a
nearly straight line with Kailahun), though the rainy-
season is shorter and less rain falls. Its agricultural
cycle is similar, though the soil is more fertile, and the
water stays longer in the ground. The harmattan blows
harder and longer in Abuja, and the nights are colder.
The food crops are mostly yams (which are exported all the
way to Lagos), guinea corn, corn (maize), hungry rice (a

small-grained cereal also called Occa), and other cereals.

VC'
Pr-

A'

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31

are three ever-changing, spectacular waterfalls on the Iku,
Gurara and Tafo rivers. From almost anywhere within a
radius of fifteen miles, one can see the great dome of £222.
rock thrusting its sheer grooved walls 1,000 feet into the
sky. When the thunderheads of the early rainy season come
down over the hills, it is a memorable experience, and the
(green fertility of the country-side, cut by the red laterite
roads and paths, add to a general impression of beauty.
Abuja's potential as a tourist attraction has long been

recognized and only-recently has it been exploited at all.

The climate is alternating wet and dry, like that
of Kailahun (it lies just north of the 8th meridian, on a
nearly straight line with Kailahun), though the rainy-
season is shorter and less rain falls. Its agricultural
cycle is similar, though the soil is more fertile, and the
water stays longer in the ground. The harmattan blows
harder and longer in Abuja, and the nights are colder.
The food crops are mostly yams (which are exported all the
way to Lagos), guinea corn, corn (maize), hungry rice (a

small-grained cereal also called Occa), and other cereals.

 

32

Groundnuts, sweet potatoes, a variety of greens, herbs,

and spices are also grown. Its agriculture is typical of
savannah rather than forest. The soil is rich, and farm-
ing is the chief industry. Most of the title-holders and
other ”big men" of the Emirate own their own farms, and make
considerable profits on them. As in Kailahun District,
there are plenty of goats, sheep and fowls, but Abuja also
has large herds of Fulani cattle (with their Fulani owners
living freely in the bush), which provide an ample supply of
meat and organic manure. Abuja's traditional pottery
(actually a Gwari trade) is famous throughout Nigeria, and
in recent years a Pottery training Center, which manufac-
tures large quantities of glazed ceramics for commercial sale,
has been established.

Abuja's population is a mixture of many different
peoples. The Habe people of Zazzau (Zaria) who came from
Zaria after the Fulani conquest in l80h, live mostly in the
capital town of Abuja or in nearby villages, though they
also live in other large towns where they dominate the trade.

The largest group in the Emirate are the Gwarin Genge and

33 .

the Gwarin Yam-a, who make up well over 50 per cent of the
population. Then come the Koro, the Gade and the Ganaguna,
and a few Gwandara Bassa and cattle-Fulani (Beroro'en).
These peoples, their traditions, and their relations with
the rule Habe will be discussed as the study progresses.’
For centuries Abuja was also a frontier region.
Bordering the southernmost extent of the old Zaria Emirate,
it was an area only loosely administered by the Babe rulers
from the north. It was used rather as a pool for slaves
with which to man the farms of the ruling Habe throughout
the Hausa states. Its large pagan population lived there-
fore in almost constant fear of slave raids and most of the
villages were built high on inaccessible hills. (This
pattern changed little after the founding of Abuja as a
separate Emirate.) It was, nevertheless, an important
agricultural area and as such, the peOple of Zaria considered

it an important possession and source of wealth, and it has

a

This section is derived mostly from information
found in the Chronicle of Abuja, by M. Hassan and M. Shaibu
Na'ibi, as well as from personal notes taken in the field.

3“

therefore been an organic part of the rich tradition of Hausa-
land. Abuja's history is an episode in the greater history
of Northern Nigeria and cannot be divorced from it, though
it possesses many unique features of its own.

All through the nineteenth century Abuja underwent
some dramatic changes. This was the result of the flight
of the ruling house of Zazzau (Zaria) southward to Abuja, when
the Fulani under Mallam Musa conquered Zaria in 180h. In
Abuja the Babe of Zazzau were able to establish over the next
generation an independent Habe Emirate, ruled in the ancient
Babe manner and separate from,the dominant Fulani "Empire."
This in itself gives Abuja a unique quality, and to this
day Abuja stands out in contrast to most of the Muslim
north in its pattern of government and independent spirit.
It is therefore, like Kailahun, an ideal place for a compara-

tive study, such as this one.

The Pattern in Mendeland
Returning to Sierra Leone, the section which was
known in the nineteenth century as ”Upper-Mende” was, for

the most part, unknown. It stretched far inland from the

-q'

34

therefore been an organic part of the rich tradition of Hausa-
land. Abuja's history is an episode in the greater history
of Northern Nigeria and cannot be divorced from it, though
it possesses many unique features of its own.

All through the nineteenth century Abuja underwent
some dramatic changes. This was the result of the flight
of the ruling house of Zazzau (Zaria) southward to Abuja, when
the Fulani under Mallam Musa conquered Zaria in lBOH. In
Abuja the Babe of Zazzau were able to establish over the next
generation an independent Habe Emirate, ruled in the ancient
Babe manner and separate from the dominant Fulani "Empire."
This in itself gives Abuja a unique quality, and to this
day Abuja stands out in contrast to most of the Muslim
north in its pattern of government and independent spirit.
It is therefore, like Kailahun, an ideal place for a compara—

tive study, such as this one.

The Pattern in Mendeland
Returning to Sierra Leone, the section which was
known in the nineteenth century as "Upper-Mende" was, for

the most part, unknown. It stretched far inland from the

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35

known coastal enclaves of the Sherbro (or Bullom) and from

the vaguely explored areas of central Sierra Leone. It

‘38 called "Upper-Mende" because it was north and east of
t‘vhe better-known areas of Mendeland which lay directly
adjacent to the area called Sherbro, with its myriad coastal

iialands, tidal estuaries, mangrove swamps and great sand-

'bars and beaches. T. J. Alldridge, a trader who had lived

for many years at Bonthe on Sherbro Island, and later served
both as District Officer for the Sherbro District and as
a.Travelling Commissioner, wrote about the area in his

book, The Sherbro and Its Hinterland, that, ". . . the

government .

. knew nothing of this upper country beyond the
fact that disastrous tribal wars had been carried on from time
immemorial.'11 This is not an entirely accurate statement of

the facts, as we shall see, but it expresses the ignorance

common among the best informed officials.
It may seem strange that an area so large and
potentially important, and also so near to the coast, had

11

T. J. Alldridge, The Sherbro and Its Hinterland
(London, 1901), p. 182.

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36

remained a vacant spot on the map until the last decade of
the century. But it must be remembered that only a few
years before most of the interior of Africa had been explored
by Europeans. Livinstone had been dead nearly twenty years
when the first European walked into Upper—Mendeland (T. J.
Alldridge was the first), and there were still many areas

of equal size in Africa that were to wait many more years
before they were properly opened to the Western world by the
great surge of colonialism. In fact, there had been no real
motivation for the Europeans on this malaria-ridden coast

to go inland. Even from the days of the Portugese four
centuries before,_trade, whether in men or goods, penetrated
inland through the various African peoples themselves. As

in Nigeria and a host of other places on the West Coast, the
guns, whiskey, and other effects of European dominance of

the coast had penetrated deep into the interior. Imperialism
finally prompted the exploration of the hinterland of Sierra
Leone, for to the north the French were steadily pushing
southward and eastward into the rain-forest, after con-
solidating their conquest of the Western Sudan. The first

treaties with the chiefs of Upper-Mende, like those with the

‘u
n

37

Temne in the north, were British responses to French ex-
pansion. It was all part of the ”scramble" for Africa.

As Alldridge has indicated, in the days Just prior
to the British arrival, this part of Mendeland was a land
of almost constant warfare and shifting chiefdoms. Being
a border area, lying on the northeast flank of the central
Mende Chiefdoms, it was subject to incursions from two and
sometimes three directions by non Mende-speaking peoples,
and from the other direction by other warlike Mende
Chiefdoms themselves. Very little was clearly defined poli-
tically, it was a land in a state of quite rapid transfor-
mation. But a pattern was emerging, though it is doubtful
that this was recognized at the time that the British
arrived in 1890.

Little is known of these chiefdoms and their inhabi-
tants during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. There
are no written records of any kind prior to the ”scramble,"
and few artifacts. In fact, this part of Mendeland has
largely remained a blank. But the peOple have traditions
which describe their way of life and their history, some-

times in quite remarkable detail. From a careful analysis

38

of these tales it is possible to reconstruct a fairly
accurate picture of the history and polity of the
"Kailahun Salient" at least as far back as the early
nineteenth century. Since our study is concerned with
three adjacent chiefdons in the present Kailahun District,
let us look briefly at each one during those years.

The largest, and most powerful of the Upper-Mende
Chiefdoms was Luawa. It was once so large (at the arrival
of the British it had probably reached its greatest extent)
that it encompassed an area that today includes at least
five of the chiefdoms in Kailahun District. But, it has the
misfortune to lie exactly where the three penetrating powers
met, and it accordingly suffered division--a curious victim,
like so many others, of the "partition." It is quite impos-
sible to say exactly how long Luawa (like the adjacent
chiefdols) had been settled by the present inhabitants, but
it is fairly certain that they came from the northeast.

One of Sierra Leone's historians says they were moving
towards the sea from inland regions as early as the eigh-
teenth century, ”At the end of the eighteenth century they

were still an inland people, though coming to the coast to

39

trade woven cloths for salt. They displaced, or replaced,

a people who carved soapstone figures, 'Nomoli'."12 There
seems to be no agreement on the details of the Mende inva-
sions, but the extent of virgin forest still standing when
the British entered (and, in fact, in some parts even today),
tends to support the belief that the Mende at least, are
recent comers to this land. It is not hard to imagine the
first inhabitants penetrating slowly and with difficulty
into the great forest. Like many parts of Liberia, it must
have been one of the last areas of coastal West Africa to

be populated in large numbers. or course, there were
probably a few autochthinous elements sparsely scattered

in the forest. All of what is now called Mendeland probably
had been sparsely settled for centuries then, and the evi-
dence of a fairly constant culture as far back as the
fifteenth century is clear. The famous Nomoli soapstone
carvings mentioned above, do not seem to have been Mende

productions (and Mende tradition has no. eXplanation for

12
Cristopher nye, A Historzgof Sierra Leone (Oxford,

1962), p. 6.

“0

them, save that they were left by spirits). It is probable
that the early inhabitants--perhaps themselves early suc-
cessors of any even more ancient people (like the pygmies
perhaps, of the Congo forest)--were conquered and absorbed
by an eighteenth century influx of Mende-speakers (the
lends) who conquered the small self-sufficient villages and
began to create larger and more pOpulous chiefdoms dependent
upon war and trade for their wealth. One of the early
scholars who studied in the area supports the view that the
present large population of Mende-speakers is of recent
origin (when compared with other parts of Sierra Leone).
He wrote: "In any case the Mende population here is not
pure. The language has some minor differences, which was
most noticeable to the aha-Mende boys with me."13 The Gba-
Mende are considered by most linguists, to be the central
and oldest group of this language group.

Since this research is limited to the transformation

of a traditional system of government in colonial times, our

13
F. W. H. Higeod, A View of Sierra Leone (London,

1926), p. 113.

 

“ff

 

H1

concern is limited to the develOpments within this latter
Mende society. But some understanding of the probable
forces which prompted the nineteenth-century changes in
Upper-lende, is necessary. Most of this is based on a care-
ful analysis of oral tradition as described in the introduc-
tion. It is not therefore mere speculation, but it is far
from being definitive. The actual details may never be
known, for oral traditions relating to this matter of ori-
gins are extremely sparse in all of Mendeland. The impor-
tant.thing is that "pure" or not, the population of the
chiefdoms in question was mostly Mende-speaking when the
British arrived.‘

So it was not a sudden thing, this final and dramatic
influx of marauding warriors into the sparsely settled,

quiet and isolated settlements of the eastern Sierra Leone

a

Most of the above information is the result of
careful consultation with a variety of informants in the
three chiefdoms. Similar information can be found in
Kenneth Little's study, The Mende, which however deals
only briefly with the origins of the Mende, though it
is an invaluable source of information about the social
and political organization of the central Mende areas.

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#2

hinterland. The beginnings were not unusual at all. For
centuries most probably, small groups of warriors, or even
peaceful bands driven south by war or famine, had pene-
trated into this forest, only to be absorbed unobtrusively
by the older inhabitants. There is not and never has been
a "pure" Mende stock. Like all peoples, the Mende are and
were a mixed race.

During the long centuries when the great states
of Ghana, Mali and Songhai rose and fell in the vast savan-
nah to the north, this little isolated belt between the Moa
and the Sewa rivers remained untouched (perhaps even
uninhabited for the most part).e It was quite effectively
cut off by the rolling Futa Jallon range to the north, by
the incredibly rough and tumble rain-forest to the east
(Liberia), and by a similar forest to its west which was
to become a battleground in later centuries. Perhaps a
trickle of trade penetrated the forest, for the great
Sudanic States often took slaves there, and had long
carried on extensive trade with a large segment of the
coastal belt. It would not have been difficult for

individual traders or small raiding parties from Mali,

43

for example, to trek south (for a few days) from the Niger
sources in the Futa Jallon. But Mendeland remained iso-
lated throughout and quite apart in contrast to the Temne
dominated northern part of Sierra Leone. No one knows

for certain who made the Nomoli and why, but whether a
purely indigenous culture created these striking sculptured
stones, or whether they were a product of cultural contact
with the civilizations to the north, they tell us nothing
of these long centuries.

When the Portugese and other Europeans came along
the coast in the 15th century, no deep penetration inland
was attempted. The limited contact on the coast, often
with Mende-speaking peoples, did nothing directly to
change the pattern of life in the interior. Even the
Atlantic slave trade seems to have had a limited effect
on this area. Certainly during the years when it was at
its height, slaves were captured and sold to slavers on
the coast, at Sherbro, Bunce Island and other barracoons.
But, this did not approach in Mendeland the extent that it
did further east along the so-called “slave coast," the

Bight of‘Benin. Far more slaves were taken and sold from

 

an

the open savannah and scattered forest lands in the north,
where the Temne had recently conquered a variety of local

peeples and established organized kingdoms which stretched
all the way to the coast between the Sierra Leone estuary

and the Great Scarcies River.

Like the great Liberian forest, Upper-Mendeland
rematned little affected by the centuries of change and
movement which eddied around it. But with the nineteenth
century came new events, external and internal, which changed
the course of history in West Africa, and this isolated
enclave could no longer remain unaffected. It must be here
that our narrative and our investigation begins. It is
also from this period that we can begin to reconstruct the
actual history of the area in question with some accuracy.

In the days before the British occupation, the
three chiefdoms of Luawa, Dea and Malema typified most
of the area known as Upper-Mendeland. Nearly the whole
of the eastern half of Sierra Leone was covered with dense
forest, broken only by the town sites and the haphazard
farm clearings adjacent to them. The "roads" Joining the

towns might be more aptly described as tunnels through the

“5

green canopy. But, the nineteenth century brought many
changes, especially in the last decades. Invasion and war
became commonplace, upsetting the peaceful and undisturbed
routine of the little Mende villages. What happened in
Luawa epitomizes the trends which came to characterize
increasingly the developments in the last decades before

the British consolidation.1"

Luawa was not in fact a "chiefdom" until at least
the 1880's. Like the rest of Mendeland the area was simply
a series of large and small towns, "each with a vague and
indeterminate sphere of influence over the adjacent country-
side, and each quite independent of the other."15 When war
threatened, as it did increasingly in the last half of the
nineteenth century, a town might ally itself with a neigh-

bor, Just as Baiwalla did with Malema to repel the Gola in

u A
1 Kenneth Little, The Mende of Sierra Leone (London,
1951). pp. 25—32.

15
J. M. Malcolm, "Mende Warfare," Sierra Leone
Studies, XXI (January, 1939), R7.

 

vr‘

#6

the 1870's. The same town might just as quickly find it-
self at war with its former ally. In fact, war of this
sort had become so frequent that the fortified towns be-
came the centers of all organization. Any possible society
which could exist, with raids and counterraids as an every-
day occurrence, must have been organized in and around the
large towns. They were the only places one could live in
reasonable safety. There are men still living who clearly
remember those_days, and the heritage of war seems to form
a large proportion of Mende tradition. The peaceful "self-
sufficient” agricultural villages of old Mendeland had
become a thing of the past. The influx of peoples from

the north had made the old pattern of small villages
organized only along kinship lines an impossibility.

If a society, whatever its antecedants (for accurate
reconstruction of the earlier society of Mendeland prior to
the nineteenth century is almost impossible with the scant
tradition relating to that time), was ever organized and
adjusted to warfare, this one was. War became an essential
part of the life of the peOple (a pattern reproduced else-

where in Africa during this century of violent internal

“7

change), and it seems from all the tales, legends and
myths, which dominate the oral tradition, that war largely
dictated the mode of living. One informant, an old man
named Vandi Gbongwema (or 'Buigardi' of the white beard)
put it this way. "To become a 'Ndormahei' (a 'Ghief') a
man had to get power by war and by proving himself as the
first among the warboys. He could then get farms and
wealth, because all feared him and respected him, and his
warriors protected him. If he got it from inheritance,

he had to prove it in this way. My father (Dui Koneme)

was a man like this and fought for Kailundu, and Kailundu
himself became chief this way."' If Mende society was not
warlike originally, it had become very definitely so by the
last half of the century. One writer who carefully studied

the Mende system of warfare has written:

'Notes such as this were gathered in the field
in many hours of interviews. This one was gathered from
an old man of more than eighty years, who was often sought
for knowledge of the past, especially the traditions
relating to the nearby villages and Luawa chiefdom itself.
There will be explanation and some pertinent examples
in the appendix. Henceforth such citations will be listed
as "Field Notes, Luawa," or Malema, et cetera.

#8

The largest of the normal Mende towns of the period
illustrate this. There were none of the comparatively
spacious thoroughfares one often meets with now-a-days,
but instead the round houses of the Mendes (at that
time apparently they did not know how to build square
houses) were crammed together in the closest possible
space, even touching on all sides. . . . The purposes
of this . . . were (a) that the enemy if they succeeded
in entering the town, might be lost and butchered
singly in the labyrinthine net-work of passages between
the houses; (b) that the inhabitants of the town could
. . . utilize their familiarity with the town to escape
easily; (c) that word of any attack could be passed
easily through the town in a flash.16

The towns were, in fact, little more than elaborate
stockades during the last three decades of the century.
Each town was invariably circled with a wall and ditch
(rather like the Roman vallem and gossa), with wooden
fences inside the walls. The wall was built of mud (dadei)
and normally stood about twelve feet from the nearest
houses. The top of the wall was thatched, to keep it in
good condition. If paths went through the town, at their
entrance points to the town there would be gates of solid,
massive slabs of wood, so strong that the wall was never

attacked at that part, and a tower looked down on each

16Malcolm, "Mende Warfare," p. #7.

“9

gate. ". . . a man always sat on guard, with a loaded

gun . . . ready to fire through one of the loop holes
(kpandelagbiami). . . ."17 The ditch had pointed stakes

in it which would impale anyone trying to attack. The
stockades of wood were usually planted, and grew their own
foliage, interwoven with creepers for additional strength.
War, whatever its causes (the early twentieth-century
observers, like the Englishman quoted above, wrongly assumed
that war was "natural" to these people, and that they,

"like it for its own sake."18) was usually a reaction to

an attack by someone else, but it could be initiated by a
meeting in the town of all the adult men and elders.

This was held in a large clearing (Kobangeya) a short
distance from the fortified town. Then two or three

retired warriors, called War-Chiefs (Komahanga) would super-
vise the discussion, and pay the warriors. The captains

who led the actual fighting were numerous experienced

17Ibid., p. as.

18
Ibid., p. #9.

50

warriors (kugbeisia), but only three could lead an actual
campaign. They were called the needle, the thread, and
the wax, to symbolize the necessity of working together.
medicine would then be sworn upon, prepared by the so-
called Kori-men (itinerant quasi-Muslim magicians and
healers), which assured the loyalty of all the men. A scout
would be sent off and was expected to prove his value by
bringing back a stake from the enemies'ditch. It was all
very elaborate and ritualized. (Informants agree that they
do not know when such rituals began but the tales which
relate actual events of war, do not extend back more than
four named generations.) Nevertheless, if attacks proved
successful, some captives were at once sent back as slaves
to the select War-Chief as a sign of victory, and he would
then come and supervise the looting. Oaths were later
laid on each man to determine the exact nature and amount
of the booty. The.War-Chief always got half, the rest
was divided among the warriors, usually in the form of
presents given at the victory dance.19

Now, it is clear that a society organized so

obviously around war, would normally be organized in a

19Ibid., p. 52.

51

parallel way socially. Strong leadership and harsh measures
were necessary, and the ancient ways of maintaining social
control could no longer cope with the demands of inter-
necine warfare. We shall discuss these ramifications in
more detail presently, for they are of great significance

to the developments in traditional government which char-
acterized the areas in question prior to British intrusion.

We must first examine some of the forces which
prompted this warfare and its attendant changes.

The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were a
period of great change and vast movement throughout the
Sudan. In 180“, far to the east in Hausaland, the Shehu,
Usman Dan Fodro had launched a jihad that resulted in the
vast and complex-Fulani Empire, of which we shall say more
later. This was only part of a general movement begun
earlier in the Futa Jallon. It was Fulani-dominated and
of such great implications that it affected even the
remote and isolated forest lands, while profoundly changing
the course of events throughout the Sudan. From the Fulani
ranks came the religious leaders of nearly two-hundred

years who launched their crusade. It began in the Futa

.Al

52

Jallon north of Sierra Leone in 1725, when Fulani and
Tucolor warriors under Alfa Ba of Kuranko led a jihad
against the pagan tribes and consolidated his conquests
into a small empire. Actually his followers, as in most
jihads of this sort, were of diversquroups, having little
in common except Islam. His successors Ibrahimu Sori and
Alfa Ibrahimu, a father and son team combining the sword
and pen respectively, consolidated Alfa Ba's conquests
into a theocratic confederation which lasted a century,
though it was never successful in converting the whole
country, with its mountainous topography and numerous
tribes. This dual system of rule with an "Alfaya" and
"Soriya" continued until the lBhO's when another warrior-
prophet named Al Haji Omar adopted a plan whereby the
power alternated every two years under what was called
the Almanys. This lasted, in effect, until the French

conquest.20

O
Hogben and Kirk-Greene, The Emirates of Northern
Nigeria (London, 1966), p. 11h.

53

Now, all this was sooner or later bound to have an
Effect on Mendeland, especially the northern and eastern
borderlands. Throughout the eighteenth century there
Iere incursions of warriors into the rain-forest, and the
more open lands to the north were subjected to a mass move-
ment of peoples which culminated in the highly organized
Temne chiefdoms already mentioned, as well as others in
present-day Guinea. Because of the nearly impenetrable
forest, Mendeland remained largely unaffected until the
Nineteenth century, then the cataclysmic events to the
north spilled over onto the loosely organized and rela-
tively peaceful Mende villages.

It is possible of course that some of the eighteenth
century raiders who did penetrate the forest far enough'
to enter what is now Mendeland stayed and settled, found-
ing some of the larger towns and being assimilated by the
older peoples. (They would have spoken a Mande dialect
similar to Mende, Nandinko, et cetera.)

The farming communities of Mende country were ill-
prepared for protracted warfare. Their social organization

was based largely on kinship and sanctions; social controls

54

were designed to deal only with local and family disputes.
Violence was efficiently handled on a local scale (as in
lany African societies), but when it became a matter of
hundreds of square miles, the existing system could not
cope. The result was exactly as might be expected. The
System of social controls began to change. Kinship and
lineage groupings with their outwardly simplistic forms,
began slowly to give way to the beginnings of a centralized
"state" system. The invaders used the physical fact of
conquest as an excuse and a justification.and began to set
up organizational systems, and the people willingly
complied, since they needed protection. It was a logical
response to an age-old challenge. History and geography
combined to foster development. The exposure of Upper-
Nende to invasion from the north, brought by peoples who
were fighting their way into the forest to escape the
pressures of the expansionist Islamic movements, initiated
a period of gradual but intensive military and political
transformation as well as economic change.

This becomes clear in the oral tradition. Often

reference is made to "chiefs" like Kpakpaso of Dea, who

 

55

established new towns and extended the area under his rule,
and introduced military reforms and innovations, extensive
Slavery in his own household and new defensive measures
for his towns. (Like some of those described by Malcolm.)
He, like many other l't:hiefs" of this period probably started
with one town (the tradition indicated this) and expanded
his "chiefdom" to include several others. This was done
partly by conquest and partly by consent of outlying vil-
lages who needed and welcomed the protection of strong
local leadership.21
While it is true that war on a purely local scale
(between one village and another) had not been unknown
to the Mende, the large scale invasions and slave-raiding,
as well as wars of conquest for booty were something new.
By the mid-nineteenth century Mende society had adapted
itself to this challenge and evolved a structure fairly

well-suited to extensive maurading warfare. Powerful

war-chiefs (of the kind described above) emerged as leaders

1
Field Notes, Malema. Sensi Kpakpaso, January,
1966.

56

andinaturally enough consolidated their power and in some
instances began to organize quite complex systems of
adulnistration. Like Temneland a century earlier, Mende-
land began to evolve what could be called a system of
”government" as it is defined by anthropologists such as
Dr. Lucy Mair. Certainly, when the British arrived they
found something which comes fairly close to fitting Dr.
Muir's definition of a "diffused system" which was in a
state of "expansion" towards a "state" system.22 We shall
say more of this in later chapters.

It is therefore probably correct to say that these
nineteenth century innovations represented a fundamental
change in the nature of Mende chieftainship and in the
relations between ruler and ruled. The earlier autonomous
village groups, depending largely upon kinship alone for
social control, gave way to large organized chiefdoms,
with many tributary towns and villages. The local headman

became either a vassal to a powerful war Chief or a war

2Lucy Mair, Primitive Government (Baltimore,
1964), pp. 6l~lO6.

‘fr

I‘V

r.-

57

Chief'himself. The primitive village units became
incipient city-states (almost like those of Hausaland

in the fifteenth century),23 and the "chief" was well on
his way to becoming an aristocratic ruler, waited on by

Slaves and all-powerful within his subject lands.

The Pattern in Abuja

To better understand this phenomenon, we shall
look more closely at some specific examples in the next
chapter. But we now must consider Abuja and the quite
different patterns that emerged there in the nineteenth
century.

The history of Abuja as an independent Emirate
begins in 180“ when the Fulani under Mallam Musa defeated
the Habe rulers of Zazzau and forced them to flee into
the southwest part of the kingdom of Zazzau which became
Abuja Emirate. To quote the Chronicle:

In the year 180“, the Shehu Osman dan Fodio made

' war on the King of Gobir; and this was the first
Holy War of the Fulani which they waged for six

23!. G. Smith, "The Beginnings of Hausa Society,"
in The Historian in Tropical Africa (London, 196“), pp. 339-

357.

58

years against the Hausa States. Straightway, a
certain Malam named Musa, who was a teacher of the
strict Faith in the land of Zazzau, called together
his fellow Fulani and went to the Shehu at Gobir,
and from him received a Flag of Conquest; then he,
with Yamusa, a Fulani of Bornu, and three hundred

and thirty-three men came down to war against
Zaria.2"I

The Fulani caught the King of Zazzau, Muhammadu Makau at
Prayer, outside the town, and unable to get back into the
town for arms, he was defeated and forced to flee. To

return to the Chronicle:

 

Now at this time the south-west part of the kingdom
of Zazzau, which was to become the country of Abuja,
was papulated by several pagan tribes. . . . Over
these peoples ruled five Chiefs who owed allegiance
to the Kings of Zazzau. They were entitled to the
Drums and Horns of paramount chiefs and though their
installation took place at Zaria, they were too re-
mote for effective control and were subject to little

interference so long as they paid the tribute of
slaves demanded.25

As Makau fled, the Fulani followed, until he came to
Kajuru where the Chief opened his gates to him and his

followers. For six months the Fulani laid siege, but were

2‘s. Hassan and Shaibu Na'ibi, The Chronicle of
Abuja (Lagos, 1962), p. 4.

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61

the subject of this thesis. Abuja is one of the three places
in Northern Nigeria where the Habe people and their customs
BurV1ved almost untouched by Fulani influence. The other

t'0 are Daura and Argungu. It means that Abuja is quite
unique, more than even Daura ar Argungu, because it has an
overwhelmingly pagan population which has been ruled since
180& by a minority of Habe migrants from Zaria. Therefore
the history of nineteenth-century Abuja is distinct in
important ways from that of most of the North. This accounts
for Smith's comment that, "the government of Abuja is com-
plex and unfamiliar. . . ."27, which is no understatement.
The reasons for this will become obvious. Leaving govern-
ment aside for the moment let us summarize the outward

patterns of Abuja's history until the British arrived.

Hakau spent the rest of his life wandering about
"conquering" towns and consolidating his rule. He had the
traditional claim of his household, of course, so little

conquest was necessary. In 1825 at Lapai in a battle with

2
7M. G. Smith, Government in Zazzau, p. 3”.

6O

unable to dislodge Makau and his followers. Eventually
Makau went further south (still pursued by the Fulani)

to Zuba (only six miles from Abuja town), where he set

“P a war camp near the gates and fought the Fulani for a
year and three months, finally achieving victory in the
Year 1807. He then received the allegiance of the people

of Zuba and resolved to found a new emirate. The Chronicle

 

says that three thousand peOple, including his own family,
came to Zuba with Makau, and this group formed the nucleus
of the new state.26

With almost his entire court intact, and with the
traditional loyalty of the Koro and Gwari to his house-
hold, it is not surprising that Muhammadu Makau quickly
succeeded in establishing a new kingdom around Zuba.

This forced migration of an entire Habe royal
household to a pagan-dominated area over 100 miles south,
is the outstanding factor in Abuja's history and has
determined to a large extent the subsequent historical

development of the institutions of government which are

26
Ibid., p. 5.

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62

the Fulani, Nakau was deserted by his men (he (had lost
theirlloyalty because of his refusal to make slaves of
Prisoners taken from a town called Jiwa) and he was killed,
though the Fulani were beaten. It was an ignominious end
for a man who had preserved a system of autocratic govern-
ment intact in the worst of conditions. For twenty-one
years Hakau led a homeless and stateless band of Habe
aristocrats over some of Nigeria's most difficult terrain,
beating off repeated attacks by the Fulani con-
querors of his former kingdom, somehow preserving his
own right to rule the myriad peoples around him, and even
more important perhaps, hammering out a new and viable
governmental entity in the meantime. When his covetous
warriors deserted him in the battle at Lapai in 1825,
his brother Abu Ja (Abu the Red) inherited an already
functioning system.

The first thing that Abu Ja did was to build for
himself a new capital city.28 He picked his site well,
for Abuja was literally undefeated throughout the rest of

the century and was never taken until the British came in

8
Chronicles, p. 8.

“L

I;

q\ 5

63

1902, and took it by intrigue more than by force. Anyone
Who has visited Abuja can see why.

Abu Ja, though a warrior King like Makau, appears
to have devoted most of his energy to the development of
peaceful trade and industry in the Emirate (as it could
now be legitimately styled).' The foundations of prosperity
were firmly established in these years, and there was enough
respite in the intermittent wars to allow the fostering of
Islamic education. By the time Abu Ja died in 1851, the
Emirate had taken its place as a strong, growing and inde-
pendent kingdom, outside the pale of Fulani power but
respected on its own account.

The early history of Abuja is full of romantic
details, some quite exotic enough to satisfy the most vivid
sense of drama. One such is the story of Mayanka falls
(Mayanka means "place of cutting or execution") which
with its terrifying, precipitous torrent of water appealed
to Abu Ja as an ideal spot to dispatch those condemned to
death. Mayanka is located only a mile from the center of
Abuja town, and dominates a great cleft which drops several

hundred feet in stages into a deep valley. Here the Iku

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r1ver5 which at flood is four hundred feet wide, is funnelled
into an opening only yards wide and the accelerated force of
the water tumbling under great pressure down the Jagged
Chutes is an awesome sight.
Here the right hand was first cut off to be taken
to the Emir to show that sentence had been carried
out, then the man was struck with a club or sword
and hurled into the pooi.29
Even to this day the falls are regarded with fear
and respect by the people of Abuja, especially during the
rains, and no one will go near the place at night as this
writer discovered, presumably because it is haunted by the
ghosts of those who died there.
The next Emir of Abuja was another brother of Makau
and Abu Ja, named Abu Kwaka. He was called Dogon Sarki
because of his great stature, which was six and a half

feet. During his reign from 1851 to 1877, Dogon Sarki

took seventy places in war, according to the Chronicle,

 

and established an enduring reputation as a warrior. He

must have been formidable indeed, a giant riding to war in

29
Ibid., p. 10.

p)

L)

65

his full-flowing robes on a large warhorse. But as his
Praise song indicates, he also was interested in deve10p-
13% learning and commerce.

Dogo the friend of Mallams

And the friend of travellers

Tall as thunder and the high hills

And the forest.30

In fact this towering soldier was the first Emir

0f Abuja to open the kingdom to traders and strangers, a
move of some significance, since it marks the first break
in the isolation of Abuja from the Fulani Empire. It is
clear from the traditions that this move is less an indica-
tion of Dogon Sarki's innovation or interest, than a sign
that Abuja had finally stabilized its rule and its frontier
to the extent that it could afford trading relations with
adjacent states. No doubt the Emir's success as a warrior
had a lot to do with this, It is no accident that all the
nineteenth-century Emirs of Abuja were generals. Abu
Kwaka also distinguished himself by inviting several learned
Mallams to Abuja, who remained to found several of Abuja's
present leading families. Most Mallams today trace their

30
Ibid., p. 1h.

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66

descent from these immigrant teachers.

With Abu Kwaka's death in 1877, Ibrahim Iyalai,
a son of Abu Ja became Emir. Ibrahim was called Iyalai
because of his many followers and he was known also as
DOdon Gwari (Terror of the Gwari), because he finally
subdued the Gwari throughout the Emirate. His long reign
is marked by a locust plague which destroyed the guinea-
corn crap, and by a series of important wars with nearby
Emirates.31 It is no coincidence that Abuja was never
actually defeated in any of these wars, which were on a
larger scale than the hordes of skirmishes with which Abu
Ja and Abu Kwaka created the Emirate. In fact, by this
time Abuja had become a highly efficient war-machine,
dedicated to raiding and plunder, but also capable of

large sustained campaigns. A citation from the Chronicle

 

illustrates this:

When the Emir had decided to go to war against some
pagan town he sent word to all his chiefs, telling
them of his intentions so that they might make neces-
sary provisions and arrangements. Then he asked the

31
The Chronicle, p. 16.

 

67

chief Malams to discover for him a favourable day on
which to set out, and four or five days before . . . he
had the war flag brought into the open space in front
of his compound. . . Next the Emir exhorted his men to
follow strictly the orders of their leaders in the
battle, the Malams offered up prayers for the success
of the expedition, and they all set off together leav-
ing the Galadima in charge of Abuja, for he did not go
to war.

The foot-soldiers armed with bows and arrows and spears
went first (when battle was joined), and with them, but
spaced to give a clear view of the enemy, were the men
with muskets; behind them came the mounted warriors,
but very little distance separated them from the foot,
and often they were all mixed up together. The Emir
followed behind or stayed beneath a shade tree in the
rear, for he was not permitted to take part himself

in the fighting lest any harm should come to him, for

then his peOple would lose heart and the battle would
be lost.32

These organized techniques were to prove effective in

three great battles which dominated Ibrahim Iyalai's reign.

In the 1880's the Kuyambana defeated the Emir of Kantogora

(a Fulani Emirate with its own reputation as a bloodthirsty

raiding-state--even today the southeastern part of the

province is sparsely populated, a result peOple say, of a

half century of devastation at the hands of Kantogora) in

a great massacre. "So the Fulani of Kantogora had neither

32
Ibid., p. 17.

68

Pleasure not profit from their meeting with the Kuyambana,
for the numbers who were slain were beyond reckoning."33

In 1893 a rebellion of the Gwari of Ija led to a
supporting invasion of Abuja, by the Emir of Zaria, Yero.
This was the last great attempt of the Fulani of Zaria to
conquer the old Habe rulers of Zazzau and bring Abuja
back into their sphere of influence as a vassal state.
The result was a battle of maneuver near Abuja town at a
place called "Farin Ruwa" (white water) on a stream called
Saiwa. There, ably led by the Jarmai (a Gwari warrior)
the men of Abuja defeated the Fulani and routed them with
great slaughter. Even the three-hundred taken were all
killed and their heads mounted on poles along the walls of
the town. Intended as a warning to the Fulani, this act
seems only to have increased the enmity between the peoples,
though no more invasions developed by the time the British
arrived shortly afterwards.

A third war under Ibrahim's rule was with Toto

and Nassarawa. This seems to have resulted from a request

33Ibid., p. 18.

1.1“

69

for support sent by the Habe of Toto, who had quarreled
with their neighbors the Kwatawa. The Emir sent the
Madawaki and an army to settle the dispute and this led to
a war with Nassarawa Emirate, under whose suzerainty Toto
belonged. The ensuing series of battles were won by the
Abuja horsemen and ended in a siege at Nassarawa itself
which was finally negotiated in council. This was the last
of the major wars of Abuja, but the petty raids and maraud-
ing bands of slave-raiders and caravan raiders continued
until the British stopped it in 1902.

In fact, Abuja was so successful at waryfrom the
early days when fighting for its life, that it had by the
turn of the century,become a state that depended upon
brigandage and war for most of its wealth. The commerce
which Emir Abu Kwaka had encouraged had once again died
down to a mere trickle and Abuja had gained a widespread
reputation as a refuge of marauders. As we shall see,
this determined the final actions of the British when they
decided to consolidate all of Northern Nigeria into one

protectorate. Abuja was not brought into the Empire by

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negotiation, it was, like Kantogora, Kano and Sokoto,
conquered by force of arms. This episode shall be dis-
cussed later, but with the British conquest, Abuja's
rather defiant independence collapsed like a balloon.

Only through determined leadership in this century has

the Emirate regained (for better or worse) something of
her old reputation of staunch independence, and, of course,
for quite different reasons than those of the nineteenth
century.

These are the patterns which dominated the history
of the two quite divergent and disparate African polities
which are the subject of this thesis. In the next chapter
we will look more closely at the system of government in

Upper-Mendeland, and how it worked.

‘i

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CHAPTER III
GOVERNMENT IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY MENDELAND

The Structure in General

 

In the last chapter we briefly discussed some
of the patterns of develOpment in government in "Upper-
Mendeland." By the mid-nineteenth century, it is
apparent, something very interesting was taking place
in some chiefdoms at least, and the situation might
be described as one of rapid transformation towards
a more organized, centralized and institutionalized
governmental structure. Using the classification of
Lucy Mair, it could be said that in the chiefdoms in
question the Mende were evolving from a "diffused"
form of government towards a sort of incipient state
system.3“ It is only Speculation of course to say
how far it might have gone had the British not

interrupted the process, but there seems little doubt

34Mair, Primitive Government, pp. 61-119.

71

m...

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72

that by the 1890's develOpments were clearly going

in this direction. It was a situation which would
have been the delight of a modern anthropolOgist,

had there been any available. As it was, this de-
velopment went entirely-unseen by the outside world,
and it was vastly misunderstood by the British admini-
strators who came to govern the Protectorate of Sierra
Leone. This shall become clear as our analysis con-
tinues.

Unlike most developed and fairly well-established
governmental systems (like that of the neighboring Temne),
Mende government was not deeply rooted in kinship. It was
important in the social structure but it was not the
focal point of the developing political system. This is
at first sight a rather striking divergence, for the less
formally organised systems, right down to these which had
no "government" as such, depended largely on kinship for
social control. In fact, short of actual "government"
with its organized structure, it is almost axiomatic that

kinship provides the.means by which peeple live together

73

in some semblance of order and tranquility. Here is the
crux of the matter, for Mende government as it was de-
veloping in the nineteenth century, was an innovation.
It was in fact a reaction to pressures of war and in-
vasion (not unlike similar developments in parts of
Southern Africa) which had not been important before.
Though the Mende had "chiefs" or headman in their
village units before and during the eighteenth century,
they had a society which did not in reality possess
"government." Kinship was vastly important then as a
means of social control, and significantly it remained so
into the twentieth century. But it did not become really
important in government, because the system that was
evolving throughout the nineteenth century was one which
was imposed upon the existing social structure as a
necessity. Without it, Mende society would likely have
disintegrated or been absorbed by another ruling caste
from a nearby tribe.

The data reveal this in a dramatic manner, for
nowhere do the oral traditions attribute the succession

to chieftaincy upon descent of any sort, nor do they

7h

connect the elaborate kinship structure to the evolving
organizations of the warrior chiefs.

Let us look at some examples in detail. Luawa
Chiefdom is the largest and most populous of those in
Kailahun District. It consists of the western part of
the territory ceded to Sierra Leone by the Liberian
Government in 1911 (it has been called the Kailahun
Salient), and a smaller territory further east that was
British before 1911. Its population today exceeds 50,000
and it is thus one of Sierra Leone's most papulous chief-
doms. It has an area of about 300 square miles. Large
as it is, it was once much larger, extending over terri-
tory that includes the equivalent of four other chiefdoms.
How it became so large is an interesting story, and for
this study a significant one. Luawa, in its rather hazy
history prior to the late nineteenth century was, as we
have indicated,-not much different from the other scattered
and disunited Mende "chiefdoms." Before the time of
Kailundu, its true "founder," it was in fact not really a
chiefdom at all, but a collection of sovereign and inde-

pendent villages. Once in a while one or the other of

75

of these villages would emerge as a leader under an able
warrior-chief, a pattern which has become more common as
the bloodshed and disruption of the nineteenth century
increased. It is hardly accurate to state as does N. C.
Hollins, a former British official in Kailahun District,
that: "The early history of Luawa is that of its founder
Kailundu."35 Obviously, the area has a history of move-
ment, invasion, settlement and development going back
perhaps two centuries. But perhaps because of its rela-
tively confused origins (the amount of forest standing
when the British arrived is significant), and the state
of flux in which it was almost instantly plunged, its
traditions are scant and contradictory before Kailundu's
time. It says something also about the Mende view of
history, that oral tradition invariably centers around

a great warrior who accomplished significant deeds of

defense, conquest or consolidation. Nevertheless, accepting

35N. C. Hollins, "A Short History of Luawa
Chiefdom," Sierra Leone Studies, XIV (1929), 10.

 

r.

76

our earlier summary of Mende history before the nine-
teenth century, we can only state that it seems certain
these Mende people were living, prior to Kailundu, in
small villages, surrounded by stockades, and rarely united
in chiefdoms of any size. Kailunda changed this in Luawa,
as did other war-leaders elsewhere in Mendeland, and he
did it in a remarkably short time. The story is one
that dominates the oral traditions of Luawa, and they
agree in most basic details.36
Kailundu was born about 18A8 at Komaru, a village
in the Sewaru sub-chiefdom of Luawa. It seems that the
area was ceded to the chief of a place called Kurutumbuya
(a village which now consists of a ward in the town of
Kaialhun, near where the primary School stands today)
early in the nineteenth century. This chief was named
Sia'ame and he had received a delegation from the area

of Sewaru and the adjacent land across the Moa River in

what is now Guinea. This delegation had presented a

36Field Notes, Luawa, Brima Jonny, February,
1966.

77

token called tingue potongo, which means leopard's teat,
in order to trade freely with the people of Kurutumbuya
in cloth and produce, and in return had taken back with
them some of the earth of the country and seven slaves.
Apparently the agreement also included a loose kind of
military alliance, a common occurrence in those days.
After Si'ame died, a man named Wule was chief of this
loose confederation of villages, and he was followed by
Bundu who was the man who invited Kailundu to become
chief. It is significant that none of these three chiefs
prior to Kailundu was closely related (there were no
sons or brothers, for example), nor was Kailundu even a
member of the same lineage. The only claim Kailundu had
was that he was born in an area which was nominally part
of the amorphous "chiefdom."37
Kailundu, like most Mende, came from a long line

which had remained in the same place for several genera-

tions (five or more). His father, Ndowe Kome, had come

Field Notes, Luawa, Jombu Belu, February,
1966.

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78

to Komaru from Dukono on the River Moa, and his ancestors
Gbawe, Fagbara, Faiyunda and Fawisi, had all lived in
Dukono (probably for some 150 years in all). The reason
that Ndowe Kome had moved was because he had married Sori
Komaru, and went to her town to live (a matrilineal pattern
of behavior not uncommon among the Mende at that time,
though not the "norm") under her family's protection.

When Kailundu was born, Ndowe Kome was away fighting the
Tengia Kissi (of the Kissi Chiefdoms of present-day
Kailuhan District, an area conquered in later years by
Kailundu himself). When the peace was made in this war,

a Bandi Chief named Kailundu came to a big dance a Kunjo,
in the Upper Banbali Chiefdom, and Ndowe Kome, hearing of
his son's birth while at the dance, named his offspring
after the Bandi warrior and feast-giver. Kailundu grew up
within the family of his mother at Komaru and was taught
war by Pawu Bundu of Grema-Luawa, a warrior of Luawa

fame. By the time he was a man, Kailundu had won honor in
a war on behalf of Nyangbi of Blama (also called "small
Bo, near present-day Kenema) against a Chief named Nongowa

(of Kenema).38

38Hollins, "History of Luawa," p. 12.

79

Since at this time there was really no Chief in
Luawa with any central authority, each village with its
headman clung to a loose fealty to a stronger headman
like Bundu. This was the situation when war was "carried"
into Luawa.by a famous Mende warrior from Wunde called
Dawa. The year was 1880.

Dawa was one of the roving Mende warriors typical
of the period who made his living by raiding far and wide
taking slaves and booty and returning periodically to his
stockaded town near Blama. In fact, he was not unlike
Kailundu in this, for the younger man had already begun
a similar reputation as an effective war leader, who
could promise his followers wealth and booty. It was a
pattern that had dome to cominate all Mendeland in the
nineteenth century.

Early in 1880, Dawa had marched through Manowa
and burned it. He had taken Pendembu (18 miles south of
Kailahun) when he came to a small village near Giehun
(now called Mende) and from there sent word inviting
Kailunda to join him against the nearby towns (including

of course, Kurutumbuya and Komaru). However, in the

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80

meantime, Bundu called upon Kailundu and told him that if
he could drive Dawa and his warriors out of the country,
he would give over all the country to Kailundu as Chief.
So Kailundu went to Bundu and was given a large white
countryocloth as a token of the power vested in him to
lead all the people nominally under Bundu. Thus began a
confrontation which led to Kailundu's rise to power as the
chief of Hendeland's largest and most united chiefdom.

Dawa, expecting battle, prepared a pot of dung
(Kpovegue) and said that any man who ran from battle would
be cast into it, and thereafter this war has always been
called the Pove War (the War of the Dung Pot). In the
meantime, Kailundu called all the people under Bundu and
said he would end war in their land after driving Dawa
out. He also said the war would be called Kangei (meaning,
"one must win before leaving"). Then he swore an oath
with his men and prepared to fight.

That very evening Dawa and his army slept at
Geihun (eight miles south of Kailahun) and in the early
dawn, Kailundu came upon them and scaled the wall of the

town, shouting as he dropped to the ground, "I have come

If

81

and I have caught Dawa." But Dawa was alert and rushed
out of his house armed with his sword and clashed with
Kailundu. According to the traditions, they fought hand
to hand until both were wounded and unarmed. Kailundu
threw Dawa and had him at his mercy, and Dawa surrendered
and agreed to leave the country. Thus Kailundu defeated
Dawa in single combat and saved Luawa from the raiders.
(Of course, while this "heroic" single combat was going
on, the two armies were also fighting, but tradition in-
dicates that all the warriors stopped to watch the result
of their champion's struggle, for settling battles in this
way was not uncommon). As Dawa retreated, Kailundu fol-
lowed with his army, to be certain of his withdrawal and
when the invaders topped again at Mende, perhaps to
prepare once again for battle, he fell upon them at mid-
day and thoroughly defeated them, driving Dawa and his
army back to Folu in Baoma, a sub-chiefdom of present-
day Luawa. There Kailundu and his warriors drove Dawa
across the Moa River killing many men at the crossing;
others drowned trying to escape. After this, Dawa

returned to his home at Wunde, and never again troubled

83

Almost immediately after his defeat of Dawa and
his "installation" as chief, Kailundu set about organizing
his new territories into sub-sections most of which remain
to this day. He picked a place called Sakambu as his
new capital, and there he built a strong town which was
later named Kailahun (the place of Kailundu). He chose
this place, it is said, because it was at the center of
the territories, and it was only a few miles from Dukoma,
the home of his father. Like the good warrior he was,
Kailundu organised the town and villages into an efficient
network of defenses. The strategic towns such as Geihun,
were enlarged and Baoma was built on the road to Liberia
as a buffer. In all these enterprises he showed re-
markable organizational ability and statesmanship. Kailundu,
like a surprising number of his contemporaries in other parts
of Mendeland, was also in the process of building a cen-
tralized chiefdom under an organized group of officials and
aides. Quite spontaneously, they were creating the founda-
tion of a government system, which was far enough advanced
that the British when they proclaimed a Protectorate in

1898 thought of it as a viable system with a traditional

82

Luawa. One of his warriors, however, a man named Ba—wurume,
deserted Dawa and went to Guma (now in Liberia) and built
a town called Geihun Tumagu. He was later to make con-
siderable trouble for Kailundu.39

Then Bundu returned to Nyandahun and with Kailundu
called all the headmen to him and asked them what they
would do. And when it had been decided, Bundu took some
earth in a white cloth, and a gun, and gave them to
Kailundu and said, "here is your country." So Kailundu
became Chief over all of Luawa, a loose confederation. He
also went to the above-mentioned Ba~wurume, the lieutenant
of Dawa, who had settled Geihun Tumagu and gave him token
gifts and decreed that his town was under the rule of
Luawa. Luawa at this time included the three Kissi
Chiefdoms now in Sierra Leone: Wunde, Mofessor and Kama
now in Guinea, and Kissi Tengea in Liberia. It was a
potentially rich and important land.

39

Field Notes, Luawa, Jombu Belu, February,
1966 e

814

background and fixed forms. This was a mistake easily
enough made, but it had its consequences.

The next few years were ones of military consoli-
dation marked by four wars. The first of these, called
the Kono War, resulted in Kailundu further eXpanding his
area of suzerainty into Kono country to the north, marching
as far as Walihun which he burnt to the ground. At Baru
in Kono country he met another great warrior chief,

Nyagua of Panguma (later in Lower Bambara Chiefdom) and
the two divided much of Konoland between them as far as

the Bafi River. The war, like most such conflicts,

was a punitive expedition, which ended as another conquest.

The Wunde War was fought with the Kissi Chief of
Upper Wunde in French Guinea, and though Kailundu won the
first engagement and burnt the towns across the Moa, he
was unable to defeat the rest, who holed up in a cave; so
he returned without annexing new territories.

At this stage the former ally of Dawa, Ba-wurume,
enters the picture again. This opportunistic warrior
took advantage of Kailundu's absence in Guinea during the

Wunde war to raid Nyangahun, where he killed the old Chief

85

Bundu (the leader of the confederation which had origin-
ally offered Kailundu rule of all Luawa) and took his
lands. When he returned, Kailundu reacted strongly saying,
"Bundu is he who granted me Luawa," and he quickly moved
against Ba-wurume. In all his actions Kailundu exhibited
a decisiveness and certainty that marks the successful
military man, and this rebellion against his authority is
no exception. He sent runners immediately to the chiefs
of Dea, Malema (both of which we shall hear more of later),
Manda and Upper Barabara and they assured him that they
were not in league with the renegade Chief. He even
persuaded Chief Pambu of Malema (grandfather of the
present Paramount Chief of Malema) and Chief Gavau of
Jojoima (now also part of Malema chiefdom-~Gavau repre-
sents the alternate line of ruling houses in Malema) to
join him at Gondama. With a large army, Kailundu, in this
his last large campaign, drove Ba-wurume out of Geihun
Tumagu and pursued him through Vassa and Bandi country

in Liberia, conquering each town in succession in which
the renegade warrior sought support, until deep in Gbele

country (where, according to Mende tradition, the people

86

were cannibals) he finally halted. Ba-wurume fled further
through Peje country into Buyama country deep in the heart
of central Liberia and was never heard from again. This
remarkable expedition (which probably went as far east as
the St. Paul River in Liberia) is testimony to the organi-
zational skills of this pre-literate Mende warrior, as well
as to his determination to rule firmly and justly.

It is perhaps very significant that Kailundu pushed
the war against the rebellious Ba-wurume far beyond any of
his other campaigns. He seems to have recognized rebellion
as his greatest danger and accordingly punished it relent-
lessly, even to chasing the renegade through more than 100
miles of the most impenetrable rain-forest in all of West
Africa, into an unknown land peepled with obscure tribes
who:: ate human flesh and whom the Mende regarded as bar-
barous savages. It is recorded in the oral traditions that
on his return Kailundu brought with him a Gbele cannibal
who became the slave of Tengbe, a warrior, and whom it is
said pined for human flesh, but was broken of his craving
after many years.‘ There are some still living in Luawa

Chiefdom who remember the cannibal.

87

This expedition into Liberia was in 1889, and it
resulted in Kailundu gaining the nominal fealty of Bandi
country and their annual tribute (though it was not annexed).
Kailundu did annex part of Vassa country, placing Fabame
Farra over this area. He returned to Luawa through Foya
Kamara (the current customs-post on the Liberian border)
with a vast train of spoils (including a brass carronade
which is mounted today in front of the N.A. office in
Kailahun), many cattle, slaves and cloth.“0

In 1890, one year before the arrival of the first
British official, Kailundu fought a brief war with an in-
vading Kissi chief who threatened Kissi Tengea, one of
Luawa's eastern sections. Kailundu easily won the conflict
and annexed Luangkoli into his Kissi sub-chiefdoms, extend-
ing his territory beyond the left bank of the Moa River
well to the east of Kissi Tengea. So, when early the next
year, Commissioner Alldridge arrived in Luawa to make his

treaty, Kailundu was at the height of his power. There is

no doubt that by this time, Kailundu was the most powerful

0
Field Notes, Luawa, Brimah Jonny, January, 1966.

m4

88

of all Mende chiefs, ruling over an area even larger than
that of Nyangua of Panguma, a chiefdom so vast that it
included not only Mende peoples, but Bandi, Vassa, Kissi,
Kono and even Gola. It was not destined, however, to out-
last its founder for very long without change, for the
arrival of the British unleashed new forces beyond the
control of Kailundu or any of his successors.

Before examining the historical events that followed
the arrival of the British, let us look more closely at the
evolving governmental structure of Luawa Chiefdom at the
time of Kailundu's greatest power.

As we have pointed out, Mende government was not
focused on kinship, but rather was a matter of expedience
and power. Perhaps this is because the Mende are not as
ancient a political body as the Temne and other more cen-
tralized people, but their antiquity more than likely had
little to do with it. Even more significant, the power of
Mende headmen and chiefs did not rest upon a strict quasi-

religious custom.“1 It was an imminently practical though

ulHollins, "Mende Law," Sierra Leone Studies, XII

89

ill-defined institution, which arose from a need as the
offspring of the events of the nineteenth century. Mende
chieftaincy was (and is) therefore less bound by ceremony
and had no deep roots in the past. As the story of Kailundu
indicates, it was a practical answer to an historical impera-
tive. The process of transformation from the early inde-
pendent villages, through the loose confederations of the
era just preceding Kailundu, to the relatively large and
powerful chiefdom under Kailundu, Dawa, or Nyangua, had
begunto crystallize into a form which might be called a
"state."

In the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries
at least, the basis of the chief's power was primarily the
patrilineal prestige of a "clan head," i.e., a true kinship
principle operated. But the needs at that time were less
demanding and the units smaller. The war leaders from the
mid-nineteenth century on had no such lineage connections
as a base for their power (though all of them, of course,
had important roles as members of lineages). If they could

trace their descent for many generations in one place and

90

thus qualify as heads of "clans" this had little to do
with their positions as Chiefs of large new territories.
Kailundu's own case illustrates this clearly enough.
Bundu, the "Chief" who called Kailundu in to help against
Dawa, was on the other hand a leader of a large lineage
group. He was a "Ndormahei" (Chief) because his father
and grandfather (both blacksmiths, which may be signifi-
cant)“ had been Ndormahei also. But this traditional
claim was only good for his own "clan," it did not extend
any further, and it took a warrior with real power to
unite and organize a large political unit, such as Luawa
had become by 1890.

In the developing pattern that is the subject of
this study, the patrilineal sanctions of the head of a clan
gave way to the larger needs of protection felt by the smaller
and weaker groups on the periphery that had gathered around

strong groups (like those around Bundu's lineage). Such

s
Blacksmiths belonged to cults which gave them

great prestige. They were considered "magicians" of sorts
because of their secret skill, i.e., the ability to smelt
and work iron. This is typical of most African ethnic
groups.

91

power as existed was maintained by force and prestige.

The Hierarchy

 

H2

The titles of Mende government are as follows:

Paramount Chief ..............
Chiefdom Speaker .............
Section Chief ................
Section Speaker ..............
Town Chief ...................
Town Speaker .................
Ward Chief ...................
Young men leading work gangs .
Town Crier ...................

warriors ......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ndormahei

Ndolavali (Ndolavai)
Patimahei

Patilavali

Tamahei (or Fulamahei)
Talavali
Koulo-komahei
Tahedimahei

Heilamui

Kubwei (or Ubanga)

Unlike Abuja government, which has rank orders under

which a multitude of lesser officials hold office, government

in Luawa (and in Dea and Malema) was based solely on these

eight titles and the duties and prerogatives attached to

them.

All but two of these titles are traditional (Patimahei

2
Field Notes, Lgawa, Dea and Malema, 1966.

 

h F
VOA:

e43
1. b

92

and Patilavali are really British creations), and they
constitute the administrative structure-~such as it was.
There are other terms (not titles) which are im—
portant however. There was the Korbangaya, the meeting
place outside each chief town, set aside for all impor-
tant meetings of the elders, warriors or "big men." We
shall hear more of this. And there was the Agomei kotijemebu,
which means "instruction by the Paramount Chief to gather in
council," (today this means the court barrie "Semewaibu" a
British creation). Then there was the Kutijemei or Chief's
court.“3
It is readily evident that offices were associated
with these titles, and the titles connoted the varying status
and position of each holder. Because of their simplicity, I
shall not attempt to break these titles down into various
categories. 'Mende government had no status-groups, and rank
was arbitrary, according to the title held. There was no

official council which had a fixed name, place or date of

“BField Notes, Luawa, Dea and Malema, 1966.
Also see Appendix B.

93

meeting, though every Ndormahei (Paramount Chief) had his per-
sonal advisors (usually warriors), and for important matters
a meeting was called at the Korbangaya.
Since this type of government developed largely
as an eXpedient, it was a pragmatic thing and it had not
existed long enough for it to evolve fixed patterns and
forms. Matters of procedure were haphazard and few distinct
procedures emerge. Like Mende Law, the structure of govern-
ment was "based on practical convenience and common sense."uu
Beneath the outward forms were the secret societies
which spread a web of unknown power across all the peoples
of Sierra Leone, Liberia, parts of Guinea, and the Ivory
Coast. In the nineteenth century these societies, especially
Poro, were a kind of sub—government and quasi-religious
organization which exercised vast power in making war, and

controlling the intricate rituals under which every man,

woman and child found his place in society.‘
AA

Hollins, "Mende Law," p.26.

g .
See Appendix B.

9H

Suffice it to say at this point that, unlike the
Paramount Chief of Temneland, Mende Chiefs were merely
protectors and important members of Poro and the other
societies. Their position was that of public officials
who belonged to a society and had an interest in it, rather
than that of the secular officials of a cult. (Though this
seems to have changed in the last seventy years, and all
Mende Chiefs now apparently have high rank in Poro and
other societies.)t.‘5

The Mende Paramount Chief as he exists today is
largely a creation of British Colonialism. With his partly
hereditary position, his membership in a "ruling house,"
and his exalted and almost aristocratic state, he bears only
supericial resemblance to a Chief like Kailundu of Luawa,
Pambu of Malema, or Gaima of Dea. But the outward forms
remain the same. It has been said that the Mende Chief of

pre-British times was not a despot, but a "constitutional"

For a further discussion of Poro see Kenneth
Little's fine study, The Mende of Sierra Leone. Certain
comments on Poro are also included in Appendix B, though
these relate mostly to the present.

 

95

ruler. This is not entirely true. A powerful warrior like
Kailundu could and did rule nearly as a despot, for his
power rested upon force as well as legitimacy, But the
"constitutional" basis for rule was a reality insofar as
the Mende did have a structure founded on custom. The
old social structure still existed. Kailundu himself ruled
according to certain accepted rules, if not according to
strict customary law. He was "legitimate" Ndormahei, since
he was selected to lead Luawa by the recognized leaders of
the various villages and sub-chiefdoms which made up the
confederacy under Bundu. He was always careful to call
the headmen and elders together in a Korbangaya whenever
decisions were made that would affect the entire chief-
dom. But in his prime Kailundu ruled an area in which
his primary sanction was force and his ”legitimacy" was
in reality non-existent. He was ruler of Luawa because
he was a military leader and an able, if benevolent,
despot.

Some of the prerogatives of the Mende Chief, accord-

ing to the surviving tradition, illustrate the ambivalence

96
of his position in the nineteenth century.’

A. The traditional prerogatives and duties of the Para-
mount Chief were as follows:

1. To "supervise" the secret societies,46 such as:

a) Poro
b) Bundu
c) Wunde

2. To summon anyone to him day or night.

3. To arrest anyone for a good cause.

s

Most of the following information was gathered
from the savants of Baiwala in Dea Chiefdom, as well as
from the present Paramount Chief, Jibao Gaima. Chief
Gaima is a remarkable man, who should stand out in any
society. He is the elected Chiefly representative to
Parliament from Kailahun District, and a former police
officer. He has travelled in Europe and America, and
is well-informed. He is also steeped in the knowledge
of his own chiefdom's traditions and history. The ease
with which information was gathered in Dea Chiefdom was
largely his doing.

This may seem to contradict my earlier state-
ment about Poro, but the term "supervise" upon investi-
gation, meant only to go through the formal motions of
calling meetings, and to preside in name over meetings
in his chiefdom. Today Paramount Chiefs probably do
supervise all Poro activities.

10.

11.

12.

97

To have all matters of importance reported to
him-~with a fee—-such as deaths by violence or
arrivals of strangers.

To visit any town in his chiefdom and eXpect to
be entertained by the headmen.

To sit in all court cases and receive fines (his
jurisdiction was universal in the chiefdom, and
this included settlement of family disputes which
could not be settled at the family level).

To have repairs made on his compound by communal
labor.

To have a "manje" farm of his own for upkeep of
his household.

To receive a portion of the meat of any game killed
in the chiefdom.

To allow missionaries (Christian or Muslim) to
preach in his chiefdom.

To refuse settlement of undesirable strangers.

To distribute estates of deceased members of a

family.

l3.

1“.

15.

l6.

17.

18.

19.

20.

98

To lead and organize war:
a) ,for protection of the chiefdom boundaries

from invastion.
b) for raids to get slaves and wealth.
c) as a police function.
To preside over marriage diSputes, such as divorce
or reconciliation.
To preside over "bush disputes" (lands and farms).
To supervise collection of tribute for use in
meetings with other chiefs_or elders, ceremonies,
et cetera.
To force individuals of mature age to make farms
(though allocation of the individual plots came
from the family not the chief).
To supervise clearing of roads and paths, through
his sub-chiefs.
To arrange treaties and agreements with other chief-
doms (in consultation with other "big men").
To entertain any important strangers visiting the

chiefdom, as well as messengers from other chiefs.

99

21. To assist any of his subjects who had claims in
other chiefdoms (calling other chiefs for their
assistance if necessary).

22. To attend the funeral ceremonies of any of his
sub-chiefs or "big men."

B. The traditional "rights" of the Paramount Chief:

l. One—half to One and one-half bushels of rice from
every farmer each year, or palm oil in special
cases.

2. Annual gifts such as country-cloth and hammocks,
mats, et cetera, from each family (lineage).

3. The right to marry any girl. An exclusive right.“7

u. The right to retain any woman over whom a dispute
arouse which could not be settled.

5. Free labor on his farms, plantations, and compound.

Careful study of these prerogatives, duties and rights

has revealed that they are "customary"only in the sense that

“7This "right" seems to have been much abused by
some Paramount Chiefs, indicating that it was not a customary
procedure at all, but a result of despotic military power.
Even women already married could be demanded by Paramount
Chiefs.

100

they were accepted by the majority of the people as natural
to any powerful chief. Some are obviously carried over from
the older structure, when villages were the largest poli-
tical groups. A new Chief might arrive and usurp power

by force of arms (as Kailahun did in some areas adjacent to
the original Luawa area), and if he could maintain his posi-
tion, the above customs applied. His "legitimacy" seems to
have rested largely upon his ability to maintain peace within
the chiefdom (see item No. 13 above) and to preside over
cases according to accepted custom. If the oral tradition
can be believed, nothing seems to have existed which for-
mally forbade the Paramount Chief (henceforth cited as P.C.)
anything, though many informants said that a P.C. could not
abuse these privileges for long or his own warriors and "big
men" would overthrow him. Capital punishment does not appear
anywhere in the list of his prerogatives, though it was
obviously performed with his sanction. The death penalty
was, however, rarely used in Mendeland (at least as.a "legal"
punishment outside of Poro) and it was administered by the

people in a mass burning-at-the-stake. Thus it seems certain

101

that no P.C. could kill others at will. He did not actually
have the power of life and death (outside of war) in his
hands.

How much influence the P.C. had on capital sentences
in Poro is almost impossible to determine. Most of the in-
formants in all three chiefdoms stated the P.C. could and
did have his enemies removed either by secret murder or sell-
ing them into slavery. But this was an "extra-legal" action
and extremely dangerous to the Chief himself.

All of this provides a striking contrast to the
prerogatives and rights of P.C.'s under Indirect Rule,
especially considering the checks against the P.C. himself.
Discussion of this will come later; in the meantime it is
necessary to examine the other titles and their functions
in the traditional structure of the chiefdoms in question.

The Ndolavali, or Chiefdom speaker, was actually
little more than a personal assistant of the P.C. himself.
Before his duties became fixed in law under the British,
he was an alter—ego of the Ndormahei: his functions were
those of the P.C. in his absence and in his name. He always

spoke for the P.C. in large meetings and in informal council,

102

and he carried out many of the duties of the P.C. as listed
above.“8 He was traditionally appointed by the P.C. him-
self, and did not necessarily owe his title or position to
his lineage or to his previous position. In short, he was
before the British, the lieutenant of the P.C. and acted
solely in his name and under his authority. This changed
greatly under British rule.

The Patimahei is a title which was in fact created
by the British out of a recent tradition that every Ndormahei
had lesser chiefs who owed him allegiance. That is, before
Indirect Rule, every great chief like Kailundu, or Pambu,
had other Chiefs who acknowledged his rule over their own
towns and villages. This did not mean, however, that these
lesser Chiefs were placed in a fixed legal position in
relation to the P.C. They still used the title Ndormahei
themselves in their own areas of control. Bundu, for
example, continued as Ndormahei of Kurutumbuya until his

murder at the hands of Ba-warume, and only then did

Field Notes, Luawa and Dea, Vandi Baigari and
Sensi Kpakpaso, 1965.

103

Kallundu become Ndormahei of the area under Bundu's role
(a large part of the original Luawa chiefdom). Of course,
these lesser chiefs were in reality "sub-chiefs," i.e.,
they were forced by the overwhelming power of the greater
chiefs to acknowledge allegiance and they payed regular
tribute, quite willingly it seems. In their own areas of
suzereignty they exercised the same functions and powers
as did the P.C. himself in the larger chiefdom. When the
British arrived, they systematized this fluid and unfixed
structure, giving the "greater" chiefs permanent titles

as Ndormahei and allotting new titles to the "lesser" chiefs
or sub-chiefs. Thus the title Patimahei was created as a
legal position with specific functions.

The Patilavali or Section Speaker was, of course,
the counterpart of the Ndolavali or Chiefdom Speaker. He
acted in exactly the same manner to the Patimahei as did the
Ndorlavali to the Ndormahei. This office also was a British
creation.

The Tamahei (Fulamahei) or Town Chief was tradition-

ally the headman of the town or village, as he is today.

104

In the nineteenth century he was the most important poli-
tical leader in the day-to-day administration of the Mende
Chiefdom. He represented, in fact, the ancient Mende
lineage, for most Mende villages and towns were, with some
notable exceptions, large related familial groupings. As
such, he was the link between the ancient system of social
control through kinship (which even to this day provides

the local sanctions in rural areas of Mendeland) and the more
recent nineteenth century Mende chiefdom "government" under
the powerful Paramount Chief and his warriors and officials.
The Tamahei was selected for his duties because he was the
"head" of his lineage, usually the oldest active male repre-
sentative. On this level "democracy" was (as in many similar
tribal structures) at least partially a reality.

The Town Chief's duties included day-to-day settle-
ment of petty disputes; supervision of ritual and ceremony
connected with his lineage; training of "kubwei" (war-boys)
under the jurisdiction of the Ndormahei; collection of local
taxes (tribute) in produce; assisting in supervision of the
local business of the secret societies; keeping the P.C.

informed about local events and reporting all serious matters;

105

keeping the village clean; clearing bush roads in his
jurisdiction; and supervising all work gangs (called
takedimahei) in his area. The Tamahei also had an
official speaker or assistant called Talavali who was
comparable to the Ndolavali in function. The function
of this office was also considerably transformed under
Indirect Rule.

The Ward Chief (Koulo-komahei) was rare in pre-
British days. Only large towns such as Baiwala, Pendembu,
and Mailahun were large enough to warrant further sub-
division below the single village level. This office appears
to have been identical in function to that of the Tamahei,
differing only in that the Koulo-komahei was "headman" over
a lineage group representing a section of a town, rather than
a whole village representing one lineage. When the British
annexed Mendeland, this office became fixed as a legal posi-
tion subordinate to the Tamahei, with fixed duties and re-
sponsibilities under him. Before the colonial period it
was fluid, as were the other titles. Whether a Tamahei or

a Koulo-Komahei had more power or less, depended upon his

106

ability as a local leader and above all upon his judgment
in settling disputes and his skill in training Kubwei
or war-boys.

The Heilamui or Town Crier traditionally spread the
word of any important news or of decisions which had been
reached by the Ndormahei, elders in council, or the Tamahei
in local matters. Each village had one, and there appears
to have been no distinction between a Heilamui in a capital
town and in a tiny village. He was always a man with a
large clear voice (for obvious reasons). Today many Mende
villages still have them. This did not become an "official"

title until the British came.

Administration

 

Administration in the Mende chiefdoms was a prag-
matic and informal process in the nineteenth century.
Unlike the highly developed "state" systems (as in Abuja)
Mende government was only just beginning a "system."
According to the traditions it worked as follows:

A. Administration of justice was the most impor-
tant function of the P.C. himself. Whenever any "big
thing" happened (as when a man committed a serious offense

such as theft, rape, adultery, sorcery, et cetera), the

107

P.C. would call together all the important men in the town
(and perhaps in the entire chiefdom), the chief warrior
(often these were one and the same), the local Tamahei or
Town Chief, and other headmen under whose jurisdiction the
offense took place. These men also brought their respective
advisors and speakers. This gathering was called the
Kutijemei.

Once this group was gathered in "council" (the
composition of such bodies was not fixed; the complainant
would go to the Ndolavali (Speaker) and "show the palaver"
or "shake hands" with him, giving gifts (worth a value of
four or five shillings in 1900) and he would also present
pieces of tobacco to the Speaker requesting him to inform
the Ndormahei of his wish to Konani,or "show his palaver."
If his gifts were accepted by the P.C., then the complainant
would appear before the "court" and the proceedings would
begin. The P.C. then listened to the outline of the case
and directed (through his Speaker) the complainant to summons.
Fees were paid in kind by all parties involved, and the
defendant was sent for. When he arrived he put down a simi-

lar fee, witnesses were produced and the case discussed and

9r!)

 

108

settled upon evidence given in testimony. In most cases
the witnesses were "sworn" on medicine which bound them to
an oath. The decision was made by the chief, in consulta-
tion with the other members of the "court," and a judgment
was arrived at according to the customs of the people. It
was then announced by the Speaker and the punishment meted
out accordingly-~usually a fine in goods which could be
payed gradually by the family of the guilty party.

In peace time the warriors acted as a kind of
police, a force behind the P.C.'s authority and in serious
cases always sat with the P.C. in judgment. If punishment
was corporal (i.e., putting a man in "stocks") the kubwei
(warriors) carried out the sentence under the chief's
orders.

Lesser cases were settled in like manner by the
particular Town Chief involved and could be appealed to the
P.C. if the parties were not satisfied, or if the P.C. took
a personal interest in the case.’ It is important to note that
in all cases the presiding Chief (whether Tamahei or Ndormahei)
could overrule the decision of the members of the court. When

this happened in the Tamahei's court the case was usually

109

appealed, but the Ndormahei's decision was final.

Obviously, however, even a strong P.C. could hardly afford
to alienate his supporters by constant disregard of their
advice. Informants could only produce two known cases where
a P.C. reversed the Opinion of the majority of the court,
though they all said that they could not prove this, since
the decision was usually reached in closed council. Often
it was said that a strong P.C. could "do what he wished"

and no one would dare oppose him, but the informants knew
of no Chiefs who regularly made arbitrary decisions.’

It is signifiCant that in every case in which
questions were asked of informants about chiefdom "admini-
stration," i.e., how a Chief "made his country go," the
answers were couched in terms of "palavers" or "cases" at
the various levels. These "courts" were not formal it must

be remembered, but large meetings with definite procedures,

 

s
No matter how powerful a P.C. was, he could not

play the tyrant for long. His warriors were members of
local lineage groups as well as his personal troops, and
had therefore a sense of reSponsibility to the people.

110

though without fixed composition. It was here that the

 

various officials carried out their most important func-
tions and put their authority into practice. Like most
African societies, Mendeland was (and is) highly legalistic.
If a Mende P.C. had any real "legitimacy" in the classical
sense, it was Egg; that it found expression and approval.

B. The second most important function of Mende
government was the gathering of taxation or tribute. Every
P.C. could tax his people for a wide variety of produce.
These were subject only to an explanation by the P.C. as
to the reason for the assessment. If the P.C.‘s subjects
did not agree to the amount requested, they could protest,
but usually assessments went one-by-one and force was used
if necessary (especially in "conquered" parts of a chiefdom,
for example, the Kissi areas of old Luawa). No P.C. dared
persist long against united Opposition, however.

These taxes were arranged according to a procedure
that was both fluid and legalistic.

lg§.--It began by the P.C. calling a council (for
large assessments a Korbangaya was called) and the reasons
for the assessment were given in order to elicit the

unanimous consent of the council.

111

23d.--Then the Chiefdom Speaker would spread the
word and send runners to tell the various criers of the
towns and villages.

ng.-—Then each family head brought his share to
the P.C. in persons, where it was weighed or checked by the
various officials (each headman, for example, knew how many
"tax-payers" lived in his village and who would pay, and at
these assessments all the titled officials were present).
Any man who refused to pay was punished by force if necessary
(the stocks were sometimes used in this case). Here again
the kubwei played a role as policemen for the P.C.”9

These assessments varied according to need, often
representing food to be used as gifts to visitors. They
were also used by the P.C. as supplements to his own personal
wealth, and as means of storing surplus against war.

Every year in addition to the above tax, each
farmer (actually each farm, in effect), had to pay fixed
amounts to his headman (usually equivalent to about one and
one-half bushels of rice), who in turn took it to the P.C.

and turned three-quarters of it over, keeping the remainder

“9Field Notes, Luawa, Malema and Dea, 1966.

112

for himself and his village stores. This annual tribute
varied a great deal from chiefdom to chiefdom in content
and in amount, thus any listing of items would be meaning-
less.

Of course, every P.C. received gifts and fees
(like the fee for all "court" cases) for his services and
protection, including those cases when his Speaker presided
in his stead. This provided a large supplement to his per-
sonal income, especially in hard goods, such as cloth,
mats, hammocks, tools, et cetera.

But, perhaps most important, every successful P.C.
amassed great personal wealth in slaves, wives and war-
booty. But even this did not separate him from the people
in style of life. He lived close to them, physically and
socially, and until the British came was not an aristocrat
who lived above and out of touch with the common peasant
farmer.

C. Of the major functions of "government" in
Mendeland the conduct of war was the only other one in
which the P.C. himself took an active part. We have

already explained most of the reasons for this. Suffice

113
it to say that it was a clearly defined administrative
or "state" function by the time the British arrived. As
we have seen in our list of the prerogatives of the Mende
P.C., he was not only the person who initiated war, he was
the one who prevented it. In such emerging Mende "states"
as Luawa or Malema, a P.C. ruled his land in a sort of
"King's Peace." War became a purely interchiefdom (or
if one uses a broad anthropological definition, 133333
gtgtg) affair, and its use and direction was part of the
administrative framework as it was evolving in these few
quite remarkable chiefdoms.‘

'One informant was careful to explain, however,
that it ”cost" a chief a great deal to make peace even when
it was among his own people. Presumably presenting gifts
was the best way to settle disputes which had degenerated

to the point of physical violence.

s . -

It is probably safe to say that large chiefdoms
in the central Mende areas, like that of Nyagua of Panguma,
were also experiencing similar changes in administrative
structure and political control.

11“

D. Other functions of the administration were
religious. The Mende P.C. had inherited the role once
reserved for the old "head" of a lineage (or clan). These
included such things as the sacrifices before planting
rice, before harvest and other important events, as well
as the secret rituals which dominated the higher orders
of Poro. Here the "administrative" framework was impor-
tant only so far as the P.C. could delegate a ceremonial
function to a lesser man, for example his Speaker. Most
ceremonial roles were restricted, as in earlier times,
to the various important Poro members of appropriate status
and rank, or to the ancient collective ritual of a lineage
at its own shrines. In no way therefore, was the new
administration powerful in religious matters. How it
exercised indirect power through Poro is almost impossible
to assess, though one suspects that any important official
was always a high—ranking member of Poro, with according
influence.

A comment here about how some chiefs in this
period built up a sort of personal following composed of

hangers-on and slaves might be helpful. A man like Gama

115

could (and did) take favorite slaves and make them power-
ful men, using them as personal agents and leaders in
war (Mende slaves were never mere chattels). The most
reliable informant in Dea Chiefdom constantly talked of
this as characteristic of his father's and grandfather's
day.‘ It was, he said, even possible for a loyal slave to
become a Chief himself. The man who fought Kailundu,
Dawa of Wunde, was himself once a slave, who won his free-
dom by courage and died a Ndormahei. In all these circum-
stances administration remained loosely connected. Mende-
land never evolved elaborate titles for slaves who per-
formed Specific functions for a ruler, as in Abuja (or in
Ife). On the contrary, informants talk of Kailundu or
Pambu as having many slaves, but never of these servants
and bodyguards as having Special tasks which lasted from
one ruler to the next. Each P.C. designed his own internal
advisory group according to his own wishes. One can only
speculate as to whether this would have changed within a
generation or two had the British not arrived.

As for the differences in the structure of "govern-
ment" in the three chiefdoms studied here, they are so slight

as to warrant only a few words.

116

Malema chiefdom was created by the amalgamation in
the nineteenth century of two rival sections, one called
Malema, the other Sami. The two leaders of these areas,
Pambu and Gevao, respectively, were warrior chiefs of the
type we have seen before in Luawa and Panguma. They combined
forces and Pambu was selected (by acclamation it is said) as
Ndormahei; though his power was always restricted by the
Gevao faction, which returned to power in the name of P.C.
Vame Gevao, son of Gevao I, in 1909. Malema possessed the
same titles and prerogatives, councils and legal forms as did
Luawa, the exceptions being rare, mostly only in matters of
procedure which bear no obvious relationship to the govern-
mental system. It is safe to say, however, that Luawa was
considerably advanced in its develOpment. Malema had the legal
and tax collection functions,but the Ndormahei was not sole
war-leader or even peacemaker, as was Kallundu. It is known
for example, that the man who made "peace" with the British in
1891 was not the P.C. himself, but a delegate of the Chief.50

50This may have been because no single man in the
chiefdom really commanded any strong central power at the
time. To send a delegate was one way to allow the two most
powerful men, Pambu and Gevao, to retain their equality with

each other, for the man who went, if a Chief, would get
great prestige.

117

One can hardly imagine Kallundu doing this, and we know
that he did not. He was too powerful and important to
delegate such authority, while Malema was after all, like
Dea, a peripheral Chiefdom.

Dea also reflected in its develOping institutions
the patterns emerging in Luawa. This, as in Malema, prob-
ably reflected a copying tendency which one would expect
among any large ethnic group without single central poli-
tical authority. After all, Poro did act as a cultural
arbiter (as Professor Little has pointed out) for the whole
people and contact from chiefdom to chiefdom was constant
throughout the period.

Dea did, however, produce at least one innovation
all its own, which found its way later into the British
dominated form of local government, according to which
towns were sectioned off according to family or tribal
groupings. Now, Kailundu's town had this arrangement,
but it was learned from Dea where the practice dates back
much further.- In fact, Kailahun was a town founded by
Kallundu himself and the first Luawa town to adapt this

arrangement, while Bailawa in Dea is a town dating back to

\O

118

the early nineteenth century. Baiwalla seems to have
arrived at this arrangement (which had no direct rela-
tionship to the administrative structure until the
British formalized it) purely as a practical means of
solving the problem of the large numbers of Gola tribes-
men who settled in their country in the last three decades
of the century. These Gola had been defeated in war and
had fled Liberia under the leadership of some warriors who
knew Mendeland, where they sought sanctuary. One of these
Gola leaders was given a town site and allowed to live
within the chiefdom as a sort of vassal to the Ndormahei of
Dea. Thus the Gola town of Taiama was founded and this
Gola leader called Momo Gbanyawa Kore, became,in effect,
a sub-chief or Patimahei under P. C. Dodo (1860f1878).
Many Gola thus spread out and lived among the
dominant Mende of Dea Chiefdom and a large number went to
Bailwalla and settled there in their own quarter near the
river. Dodo seems to have formalizedthe natural arrange-
ment by dividing first Baiwalla, then other towns in Dea

into sections, including his own town, Dodo (which in

119

English at least,sounds rather an improbable name), which
preserves these divisions to this day.51

This particular case characterizes most of the other
chiefdoms in Upper-Mende in this period. The almagamation
then, of two complete chiefdoms, or even of two separate
ethnic groups into one chiefdom, with one clearly dominant,
was a familiar pattern.52

Luawa dealt with her "alien" peoples in much the
same way, giving the chiefs of the immigrants (or in the
case of the three Kissie Chiefdoms, conquered peoples)
their own towns or even sections to rule under the juris-
diction of the Ndormahei himself. How this led to compli-
cations when the British came is, however, the subject for

a later chapter.

51Field Notes, Dea, Tengbe Ngopolo, 1966.

52George Clement Bond, The Contemporary_Position
of Chiefs in S.L. with Special Reference to the Mende
and Temne, unpublished N.A. thesis, London School of
Economics, 1962.

Chapter IV

GOVERNMENT IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY ABUJA

The state organization of Abuja has been described

.in some detail by M. G. Smith in his book, Government in

 

Zazzau. However, Smith concerned himself only with Abuja
as an example of a pre-Fulani, Habe State and as a pattern
for comparison with Zaria under Fulina rule. As a result
he did not find it necessary to investigate the system as
it worked in Abuja and as it was transformed by the British

after 1902.

Most of my findings have corroborated Smith's general
outline, though I have found various areas in which his in-
formation was either at fault or so scanty as to give a mis-
leading impreSsion, as one would eXpect since he only devoted
one chapter to Abuja in his book. I Shall attempt to point
out these differences in this and later chapters. I have
generally followed Smith's plan in examining the governmental
structure by means of listing and defining the various orders

120

121

of rank, and their separate divisions, titles and offices.
This study is not an anthropological one, however, and for
my purposes it is not necessary to indulge in a point-by-
point sociological analysis.

Though Smith's analysis appears to be basically sound,
I have chosen, with due apology to the political or social
scientists, to record here the system as my own data de-
scribes it, and to apply analysis only where the process of
transformation has produced genuine change. Smith was con-
cerned primarily with the transformation of the Habe State
into the Fulani State--and of the Fulani State into the
British. I am only concerned with what happened in Abuja,
as it is contrasted with the events in Upper-Mende until
about 191A. my organization also reflects this approach,

as the concern here is with the process of transformation.

The Governmental Structure

Unlike government among the Nende,_government in
Abuja is a complex and highly developed system based on
Kinship. It is a genuine "state" organization and has

been continually so for at least four centuries, if we

 

of

.2)

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tr;
eel
int
in

as

121

of rank, and their separate divisions, titles and offices.
This study is not an anthropological one, however, and for
my purposes it is not necessary to indulge in a point-by-
point sociological analysis.

Though Smith's analysis appears to be basically sound,
I have chosen, with due apology to the political or social
scientists, to record here the system as my own data de-
scribes it, and to apply analysis only where the process of
transformation has produced genuine change. Smith was con-
cerned primarily with the transformation of the Habe State
into the Fulani State--and of the Fulani State into the
British. I am only concerned with what happened in Abuja,
as it is contrasted with the events in Upper-Mende until
about l9lh. My organization also reflects this approach,

as the concern here is with the process of transformation.

The Governmental Structure

Unlike government among the Mende,_government in
Abuja is a complex and highly developed system based on
Kinship. It is a genuine "state" organization and has

been continually so for at least four centuries, if we

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122

include the dynasties which ruled at Zazzau until the
Fulani conquest in 180A.

This "state” exercised government through a system
of offices. The King, or S3551, who acted as the head of
state, was not at all marginal to the process of everyday
administration and decision-making, as were many "kings" in
African states, e.g., among the Yoruba. He was not able to
direct the state's policy in any absolute or autocratic
sense, as were many other types of ”Kings," such as those
in Zululand. The Sarki's political 22155 was not synonymous
with his authority, as it was conditioned by a variety of
“checks and balances” under which tradition dictated that
he rule. Smith says that Abuja's government was neither
seggentagy or centralized because in its actual function
it clearly reveals the existence of both of these, "and,
their differentiation coincides with the difference between,
its political and administrative system.'53

Abuja state organization revolved around a system

of "rank orders," each with its own political role and

53M. G. Smith, Government in Zazzau, p. 67.

123

Special tasks. They are listed as follows:

1. Household officials

2. Senior public officials

3. Junior public officials

A. The King, royal officials and vassal chiefs

5. Mallams

6. Slave-officials

7. Chamber eunuchs

This puts them in a descending order of specializa-
tion of direct political power. Smith states that a simple
reversal of the order of the list would put them in order of
their administrative specialization.5“ This will become
obvious as we examine the components of each of these rank
orders, such as titles and offices, and how each worked.
It should be added that this arbitrary order of listing
is subject to some serious exceptions, especially the problem
of exactly how much power the Sarki himself actually had and

what the nature of that power was.

14
Ibid., pp. u2—u3.

12“

The system is a quite remarkably balanced "consti-
tutional” system. The persons with the most specialized
administrative tasks, i.e., the chamber eunuchs (as one
would expect, these officials were entrusted all sorts of
detailed bureaucratic tasks), also had the least actual

political power.

 

Let us look at the units themselves and see how
they work.‘ The rank orders in Abuja number seven, as
listed above. Each of them forms a quite distinct unit,
distinguished from the other orders by its actual func-
tion, or its status when the functions overlap. Let us now
list the titles of the various units in each rank order
according to their respective status.

1. The Sarki was,of course, first.

2. The Senior Public Officials were represented
by four men called Chis; Councillors. There were: The

Hadawaki, the Galadima, the Wombai, and the Dallatu.

*1 should like to point out here that this data
was collected not only from the erudite and informed Alhaji
Hassan, Dallatu, who was Smith's sole informant, but from
at least eight other informants, all of whom were inter-
viewed at least twice, some as often as eight or ten times,
and that I was able to corroborate the evidence myself,
having studied Hausa enough to make personal checks and
comparisons.

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125

3. The Junior Public Officials were divided into
those who "followed the Madawaki;" these were called the
Turbanned Councillors. They were: The Kuyambana, the
Garkuwa Babba, the Nakama Babba, the Lifidi, the Shenagu,
the Sata, and the Wagu. Those who "followed the Galadima":
the Iyan Bakin Kasawa, the Barwa, the Sarkin Fawa, the Wan
Duja, the Dakekasau, and the Sarkin Gayen.

A. The Household Officials were divided into the

four Bog! Servants; The Sarkin Fada, the Jarmai, the Bardi

 

and the Hauni, and their "followers": the Chincina, the
Jagaba, the Bakon Bornu, the Gwabare, the Magayaki, the
Barde Kankane, the Garduwa Kandane, the Madakin Barde, the
Hadakin Hauni and the Barden Hauni. H

5. The Chamber Eunuchs were: the Makama Karami,
the Na'aji, the Sarkin Ruwa, the Turaki, the Fakachi and.
the Sarkin Zana.

6. The Slave Officials were divided into three
groups. They were the Household Servants, representing
Special civil services: the Sirdi, the Shumaki, the

.Madakin Gabas, the Magajin Kwa, the Sarkin Noma, the Nagajin

Naseba, the Bkon Tamburi and the Boroka. Those representing

126

the military_services; the Banaga, the Sarkin Karme, the

 

Sarkin Bindiga, the Sarkin Baka and the Kunkele. Those
representing the “police": the Dogarai, and the Yan Doka.

7. The Order of Mallams or 12333 were: the
Nagajin Mallam, the Limam Juma, the Salenki and the Maga-
takarda.

8. The Royal Officials were represented by certain

 

children of the Ruling Houses: the Dangaladima, the
Sarauniya (always a woman), the Iya (also a woman), and
the Vassal Chiefs were: Kawa, Gaw, Jiwa, Kuje, Abuci,

Kuta, Gwasuna and Izom.‘

It will be noted that there are eight groupings
here. This is because the First and the Eighth were com-
bined in the list of rank orders, while in status they were
not the same at all, but were on Opposite ends of the scale.

Now it is necessary to break down this listing into

its most important parts. We cannot discuss every office,

s
See Appendix C, II.

t1
e

127

but will analyze only the most important units for their
administrative and political power, as well as their
legitimacy.

We can say that the Sarki (Emir) and all the Royal
Officials and Chiefs were selected in terms of descent,
royalty, claims to succession and sex (the latter in the
case of the Sauauniya and Iya). The two orders of Public
Officials were responsible for the territorial, military
and civil administration of the Emirate. The order of
Household Officials, which included slaves and freemen, was
responsible for the supervision of the Sarki's household,
formed a royal council of their own, and some were command-
ing lieutenants in war. The Chamber Officials were all
eunuchs who served as administrative bureaucrats in the
Emir's household. The Slave Officials performed a variety
of civil, military and police services, The Mallams were
entirely Islamic scholars or Imams (who led in prayer on
IFriday, et cetera).ii

s
See Appendix A.

128

From our order of listing it is clear that these
ranks do not mean status per se. Status could be held
without office, though any office carried with it a posi-
tion, and the above rankings do indicate (as closely as it
(can be reckoned) the status levels as well. Of course, a
man could be a member of King's lineage and therefore have
great status (as did one of the best informants, who had
no title at all), but a man without office could not hold
rank. Status in this context, as Smith points out, means
position in a set of clearly differentiated positions.
Using Smith's designation we can therefore distinguish
among the above titled officials of Abuja, four recognized
status groups: members of the ruling family (either of the
royal lineage or of hereditary Chiefs of smaller adjacent
.areas under Abuja's rule); freemen, who could also receive
fiefs; eunuchs, who were recruited by the Sarki from out—
ijing villages; and slaves. The Islamic scholars or Mallams
ccnlld be said to constitute a separate status, because

tknough freemen as well, they could not get fiefs.55

55Smith, Government in Zazzau, pp. 37-38.

 

129

The duties and powers of the title-holders varied
a great deal within this exceedingly complex framework.
Rbdations between these officials depended upon their
rank order, and the organization of the internal hierarchy
depended as much upon the administrative duties as it did
upon status.55 We shall here list only the most important
of the specific functions and tasks of the key officials,
and those listed herafter will serve as a basis for our
comparative analysis of the process of transformation

within the system.

The Administrative System in Abuja

1. The Senior Public Officials listed above were
called Rukuni (meaning Chief Councillors). Corresponding
to this order were the Junior Public Officials called
Ruwana (meaning Turbanned Councillors). Collectively these
two groups were responsible for administration of the terri-
tories, justice and tribute and taxation. Briefly stated

their functions were as follows:

56Ibid., p. 38.

 

130

a) The Madawaki was primarily commander of the
army and responsible for defense. He also administered
one half of Abuja town, and acted as an advisor to the
Sarki on new appointments and dismissal of title-holders.
He also performed ceremonial functions as the second man
to the Sarki. Several of the Ruwana were under his
authority, among them: the Kuyambana, who advised the
Hadawaki in all things; the Sata, who was overseer of the
household servants and kept the Emir's compound in order;
the Garkuwa Babba, who was responsible for disposition of
the troops in battle and worked with the Madawaki in sharing-

the booty.

b) The Galadima was always a eunuch and was ruler
of AbuJa when the Sarki was at war. He also arranged
marriages in the ruling houses. Following him were: the
Iyan Bakin Kasuwa, who was responsible for the markets in
the town and villages; the Barwa, who was arranger of the
Emir's quarters in war camp, and who had ceremonial functions

as well; the Sarkin Fawa, who slaughtered animals in market.

 

131

c) the Wombai was another eunuch acting as a
chief advisor to the Sarki. He helped name the children
and kept the private latrines in the palace clean. He had
no'Tollowers'under his direct authority.

d) The Dallatu was the last in rank order of the
four Rukuni. He built the Sarki's quarters in the war
camp, where he also carried out all the duties which the

Galadima ordinarily performed in the town.

2. Among the Household Officials were several title-
holders with important subsidiary functions. The real impor-
tance of these officials however was in the area of political
influence. We shall discuss this later.

The Sarkin gag; was the chief official in the house-
hold and also aided the Makama Babba in dividing spoils.
Under him were a host of lesser officials, most important
of which were: the Cincina, who was the chief spy respon-
sible for all intelligence referring to the outside world
as well as AbuJa; the Jagaba, who was leader of the heavily-
4arumd infantry; the Barkon Bornu, who was messenger to the

Shehu of Bornu; the J armai, who was the chief warrior in

"i

132

all fighting and the army's champion. He was always a
Gwari man, and helped in the household in peacetime; the
Barde, who always went ahead of the Emir to see that the
road was safe. He also spied on the enemy in war and
reported to the Madawaki. He worked in the household in
peacetime; the Durumi, who was responsible for the guard
around the Sarki's war camp, as well as the enclosure made
of poles and plaited grass; and the Kangiwa, who received
all game brought to the Sarki, and who got the head of each

animal for his share.

3. The Chamber Eunuchs were, like the household
officials, in subsidiary administrative roles. Their
real importance was as intimate personal advisors to the
Sarki. Their official functions were as follows:

a) The Makama Karami, who was spokesman for all
the other "private councillors"and the chief messenger of
the Sarki.

b) The Ha'gji, who was treasurer to the Sarki.

c) The Sarkin 521$: who was the Emir's representa-
tive and messenger to the fishermen on all matters concern-

ing rivers.

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133

d) The Sarkin gang, who was in charge of all parts
of the Sarki's inner compound. He was also custodian of
the Sword of Zazzau, and punished women and children in
the household who needed discipline. He was also the

Emir's messenger to the women.

h. There are many other offices of course, but we
shall confine our final list to those who possessed real
administrative functions.

a) The Eimam,ggma, "ho was Chief Imam and officiated
every Friday at the Mosque.. He was also consulted in the
c hoice of a new Emir. A n “I

b) The Maggjin Mallam, who was representative of
the Shehu of Bornu and helped install a new Emir.

c) The Eggatakarda, who was chief scribe and private
Imam to the Sarki's household.

d) The Dogari, who were the Emir's bodyguard and
'were the Jailers for serious offenders.

e) The Ten Doka, who were a kind of police.

All those of the Rukuni order held fiefs which were

the chief source of their income. This rendered the most

134

important administrative officials quite independent econo-
mically from the Sarki, and required that they administer
their territorial fiefs wisely. Thus bribery in the upper
levels of the administration was discouraged rather effec-
tively. Such men who were holders of large "fiefdoms"

were wealthy enough that they were relatively free from the
intrigues of the "court," among those who depended upon the
Sarki for livelihood. A well-run fief brought in consider-
able private wealth. Many other officials held territorial
fiefs, including the Sarauniya and the Iya, the Sarkin Gaye,
Sarkin Ruwa, Ma'aji, Kuyambana, Dangaladima and the Marmai.‘
The heads of the vassal chiefdoms had to provide annual
tribute and war contingents to the Sarki, but heads of

fiefs had no such responsibility.

The Chamber Eunuchs and Household Officials were
partially or wholly dependent upon the Emir for support,
though any Household Officials who were freemen could also
be promoted to fief-holding offices. Mallams received direct

payment for their duties.

5
See Appendix C, II.

135

Division of responsibility within the administra-
tive structure was mostly according to the hierarchy as
listed above (pages 124-126), especially where formal divisions
existed, as under the Madawaki who headed the public officials,
the Galadima who supervised the Yan Doki (police), or the
Sarkin Fada who directed the Household officials. This was
further divided, as can be seen by a quick glance at the
list, by the formal segmentation of the public orders into
two counterpoised groups, the Rukuni and the Ruwana. Why
this is so will become clear as our analysis of the government
continues.

This is the formal administrative structure of
Abuja's government before the arrival of the British. It
is a system that was little changed in the course of the
nineteenth century, and indeed, very like the system at

Zazzau for centuries before the Fulani conquest.

Political Power in Abuja_

There is obviously a vast difference between the
:real workings of a political system and its outward admini-
strative forms. In Abuja this is characterized by marked

(differences in the use of power and authority among the

136

holders of the titles. To classify the exercise of poli-
tical power and decision-making is more difficult than
simply to define official functions. We must use other
criteria here. Smith says that the Emir did not really
control the "political" system as he did the administra-
tive structure, since he was pre-occupied with co—ordination
of the latter and with preserving an equilibrium.” If

this is so, Abuja was a limited monarchy in terms of its
power relations, and the evidence seems to bear this out.

A structural balance was maintained at Abuja by a seg-
mentary political structure, made up of the Public Officials
(Rukuni and Ruwuni), the Household Officials and the

King himself. One reason for this is that any one of

these was distinguished from the other not only in terms

of function (the Rukuni from the Palace, for example),

 

but also in terms of its freedom to act as political
agents in the decision-making process. We have noted

that some officials (i.e., the Household Officials) were
almost totally dependent on the Emir for economic support,
while others (the Rukuni) had their own territorial fiefs.

Thus in political terms, the former were necessarily

*Appendix C, I.

137

identified with the Emir, the latter were not. Several
recorded decisions of importance in nineteenth-century
Abuja illustrate this division in the political power
system.‘ The formal differentiation in the orders of
rank thus show us little of the way in which power was
used. He must look rather to the interests of these poli-
tically contraposed groupings.

Briefly, we can identify the most obvious as:
Rukuni and the Ruwana officials, in terms of their shared
economic independence by means of their income from fiefs,
military interests and perhaps their functional speciali-
zation (as, for example, in the cases of eunuchs like the
Hombai and Dallatu); the Chamber Eunuchs, in terms of
their economic dependence on the Emir, their limited
status eligibility (no eunuch could ever get above a cer-
tain status), and their close physical association with

the King; the Household Officials, who sought the Emir's

 

support, but exercised specific military functions inde-
pendent of any other group and possessed real physical
power as army commanders, and who had relative freedom

from administrative tasks in the bureaucracy. The

*See Appendix C, II.

 

 

 

.r-AL ...

. .‘-.

 

138

Hallams might also be listed here as an important poli-
tical grouping within the system of power relations, for
they were largely independent of all the other groups and
held high status and rank. They also were not susceptible
to economic pressure from the Emir or any other group.

But their decision-making power was limited exclusively
to advice and to helping choose a new Emir. A respected
Hallam could (like the Liman Juma, Huhammadu Taro, who
fled with Hakau from Zazzau in lBOh) exercise great in:
fluence, but his political power was limited by the nature
of his function.

It is clear from this delineation of political
groups, that those with the least administrative functions
tended to exercise the most political power. Thus one
group acted as a balance against the other, owing either
their livelihood or their official status and rank to the
Emir. In less obscure language, these "political“ groups
reflected fairly accurately the social composition of the
society itself, as well as the economic divisions. This
provided a means of getting popular consensus and support

in any decision-making process. It was a further device

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139

for legitimizing political decisions, just as the rank
orders, status, and functions of the various offices were
a means of extending administration into all levels of
Abujargovernment.

It is important to note that in this complex
system of power relations, the civil and military offices
did not conflict, because these offices were found in all
three major classifications: public orders, household
officials and slag: officials.

The Hadawaki, for example, was the highest official
in rank-order in the class of public orders, and was also
a military official. Yet the next in rank order to him
was the Galadima, who was a civil official within the same
class of public orders, and a eunuch. In addition, the
combining of administrative functions among military and
civil officials made any lasting division among members
of a political power group very improbable.

In short, the offices in Abuja's government were
differentiated by means of function, political and admini-
strative significance, and civil and military interest;

yet never was any one official divided from other groupings

3:133.

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in all three respects. This helped promote the stability
of the system and gave it legitimacy among all conceivable
members of the society.57

Let us further illustrate this system by looking
at some typical decision-making processes in nineteenth-
century Abuja. These cases are drawn from my own work in
the oral traditions of Abuja and have been cross-checked
for validity.

During the reign of Abu Kwaka (1851-1877), called
the Dogon Sarki (because of his stature, which was six
and a half feet), traders and strangers from outside the
Emirate were allowed into Abuja for the first time since
the founding of the city. This was a decision of great
political (as well as economic) importance, because it
exposed Abuja to the larger community of traders (and
spies) who moved freely throughout the Fulani Empire.
According to the informants, such a decision could not
have been made solely by the Emir himself, but involved

the advice and counsel of the entire power structure.58

57Smith, Zazzau, p. 47.

58Field Notes, Abuja, Dallatu, June 5, 1966.

 

 

1A1

Let us speculate how it was most probably carried out.

First, the economic need for traders from the
outside would have been generally felt in the town and
Emirate by those segments of the society free to engage
in trade and thus economically independent of the Emir
or other officials. This segment would naturally be
represented in the government by the Public Officials
(Rukuni and Ruwana). Now these officials were among the
”Chief Councillors” and did 223 belong to the ”inner
council'I who were the only ones allowed to go into the
Emir's private quarters and see him when he awoke in the
morning.

The ”inner councillors" were the Chamber Eunuchs
as well, and were economically dependent on the Emir and
had nothing to gain directly by expanding trade, and at
the same time were identified closely with the well-being
of the Emir himself. These officials, such as the Hakama
Karami, Sarkin Ruwa, Fakaci, Turaki and Sarkin Zamma were
the only ones who could bring up a subject dor discussion
with the Emir in "inner council.“ In short, they were

important in initiating political decisions which issued

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Let us speculate how it was most probably carried out.

First, the economic need for traders from the
outside would have been generally felt in the town and
Emirate by those segments of the society free to engage
in trade and thus economically independent of the Emir
or other officials. This segment would naturally be
represented in the government by the Public Officials
(Rukuni and Ruwana). Now these officials were among the
"Chief Councillors” and did not belong to the "inner
council” who were the only ones allowed to go into the
Emir's private quarters and see him when he awoke in the
morning.

The "inner councillors" were the Chamber Eunuchs
as well, and were economically dependent on the Emir and
had nothing to gain directly by expanding trade, and at
the same time were identified closely with the well-being
of the Emir himself. These officials, such as the Hakama
Karami, Sarkin Ruwa, Fakaci, Turaki and Sarkin Zamma were
the only ones who could bring up a subject dor discussion
with the Emir in "inner council." In short, they were

important in initiating political decisions which issued

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IWPC>rn the Emir himself, and even more important in decid-

iYIE; which issues were to be discussed. These officials

Wfiilree all eunuchs, which explains why they were allowed

allnxnst unlimited access to the Emir. But, as we indicated

813crve, they had no really important administrative func-
tions. They would have become aware of an economic demand
(Smich as the case cited above) which demanded a political
dficision through their contact with the Public Officials
irl the latters' daily administrative routine, and through
tileir bureaucratic functions as aides to the Emir.

Once
tuney had initiated discussion (unless the Emir initiated

it himself, which was rare), communication would have been
made with the Public Officials and other groups who wished
a general discussion in the Chief Council, through various

Household Officials who also acted as messengers to and

from the Emir.

The "Chief Councillors" had little direct power
Over decisions made in council, but through the office of
the most powerful of the Rukuni, the Madawaki himself,

they could discuss the most important issues with the

Emir if he were duly informed of their desire. Therefore

143

El :meeting would be called, and the problem discussed
£L<=cording to an elaborate ritual, and a decision pub-
licly announced.

So we have an issue which is first officially
laxrought to the Emir's attention by his Chamber Eunuchs,
auad certain Household Officials in the "inner council"
(probably through a wholly informal process), then by
leans of messengers sent to 'and from the Emir by the
liousehold Officials (who were highly specialised bureau-

crats, and could render expert opinion), the pros and
cons of the issue could be made clear to all concerned,
and finally a council would be called and an official
decision arrived at through a formal process involving

all the necessary ritual inherent in the constitutional

Process.

In this way all the segments of the government
would be involved indirectly or directly in the decision;
the most important in terms.of policy being, the House-
hold and Chamber Officials. Others represented economic
interests, according to their rank order and status

(e.g., the Hakawaki, who was a large land-holder, as

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144

msell as head of the army and next in rank order and status

1:0 the Emir himself). Thus equilibrium was achieved.59

All informants consulted in this particular case,
Iwhen asked how the Dogon Sarki decided to allow traders

into Abuja, agreed that such a process as that described

above was necessary. It must also be noted that in such

a case, the support of the Madawaki (as head of the army)
of the Sarkin Fada,(as leader of the Cincina, who was
responsible for intelligence on the outside world) and
of the I139 Bakin Kasuwa (who was responsible for the
markets in the Emirate), would have to be gained before
the process of decision-making was fully engaged. These
officials combined in their offices three different rank
orders and three very vital segments of the government,
yet none of these were members of the "inner council.”
Hence, we can see the validity of the statement

made earlier in this chapter that, roughly speaking, the

order of administrative specialization was the opposite

59
Field Notes, AbuJa, 1966.

 

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1&5

‘30 the order of political power in the decision—making
Iiiulrocess.60

This case, only one of several which might be
Cited, also illustrates the principle that the power of
‘tlxe Emir (and the monarchy itself over a period of time)
has not absolute, but rather was bound intimately to a

segmentary structure of political relations, working

‘bhrough the various orders. In such a system no one man,

or single group, had a decisive voice in major political
decisions, though evidence suggests that a strong Emir
could often get his way if he were skilled at juggling
the system. If an Emir attempted to abuse his powers and
initiate arbitrary decisions, he was likely to lose his
support and perhaps even his throne. (The Sarki Ibrahim
Iyalai tried it, was abandoned by his court, and lost his
life.)

Such a system of "checks and balances” supported
a remarkably stable governmental structure. This accounts,

in part, for the fact that the changes introduced by the

Smith, Government in Zazzau, p. 72.

 

1&6

British were largely successful, and at the very least,
had little effect on the everyday functioning of govern-
ment in Abuja. Like the Fulani in Zaria, Kano and else-
where the British in Abuja in 1902-191” found much to
work with, and accordingly adopted their reforms to the
viable system they found in Abuja.

Some Considerations on Local

Government in Nineteenth-
Century Abulg

It is generally agreed in the oral tradition that
there were no really significant changes in Abuja's govern-
ment after the move to Zaria in 180“. More specifically,
there is no evidence that any new titles were created, or
any new functions evolved.

In his assumption that "the Habe of Abuja continued
to adhere to the institutions which were typical of Zazzau
before the Fulani conquest," N. G. Smith is essentially

correct.61

61
H. G. Smith, Zazzau, p. 12.

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147

I was able systematically to check a variety of
ILcacal sources against M. Hassan's account as cited by
55nnith, and found remarkable agreement in significant
(fleetails, though some informants (often the same ones used
lair Mallam Hassan himself) tended to stress the functional
INDIeS of certain officers more than Hassan does, while

tithers stressed ritual functions more than administrative

ones. These however, only reflect individual memory versus

‘that of the accepted traditions. Using the rigorous

criteria developed by Professor Vansina, the bulk of the
data was found to agree substantially with the findings

of M. Hassan and Shafiibu Naiba.

But if the state organization did not change in
form it was different in many practical aspects, largely
because the Habe who moved to Abuja found that they had to

rule a large subject population of pagan peeples who vastly

outnumbered them. And the institutions which had evolved

over centuries of rule at Zazzau were designed for rather

different circumstances. Thus what is often stated as a

function of an ancient title-~such as that of Madawaki--did

 

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1148

not actually include all the real functions. The Mada-
waki, for example, would often initiate punitive expedi-
tions (and slave-raids to supplement income were part
of this) among the hill tribes, such as the numerous
Gwari. In the remembered circumstances he seems to have
done this quite effectively and arbitrarily. That is, he
used his supposedly distinct function as head of the army
1.: o punish villages which were lax in their tribute and

t o raid the pagans for purely economic reasons. The
oral tradition in nearly all Gwari villages indicates
that regular raids by the horsemen of Abuja were common
Occurrences, and accounts for the fact that when the ‘
British came most Gwari villages were located on high
hills (dutse) of difficult access on horseback. Whether
the ladawaki and his "followers" (Kuyumbana, Garkuwa
Bablaa, et cetera) did this after consultation with

the Emir or his other officials is simply not known.
N°ne of the informants were certain, but some stated
that they had always heard that in these matters the

“ads-wan acted alone (i.e., it was a specific function

 

1149

which came to be associated with the title)” At the

turn of the century this prerogative led to conflict with

the newly introduced "Pax Britannia" and as we shall see,
led to a puntive expedition by the British which re-

sulted in the conquest of Abuja by force and the death of
the Emir by violence. In short, local circumstances pro-

duced at least one important change in the power of a

tit 1e holder, without any recorded change in the official
func tion of that office.

This incidental prerogative must have been con-
Sj-de red quite within the constitutional framework of Abuja,

for there is no tradition of any conflict over it. One

suSpects that it evolved quite naturally out of the pecu-

liar needs of the transplanted governmental structure of
“"4351. The same pagan peoples had long been considered

as fit prey in the large pre-Fulani state of Zazzau, but

*More specifically, Muhamman Gani--the present
Makama Babba--and Muhamad Barau Sunkurmi (both over 80
and titles holders in Abuja for more than 140 years) were
uncertain about the "official" nature of this prerogative
°f the Madawaki's, though quite certain that it was com-
monly done.

 

 

150

an annual tribute was normally the only concession ex-
pected, and these areas were not normally ruled admini-
stratively until Abuja was founded. After 1825 to be
sure, each local village officially became part of the
formal structure of government, but raids continued re-
gardless, especially on border areas. In this way Abuja
eXpanded all through the nineteenth century and in‘l900
was much larger than it is today.
There is no doubt that the British claims to have

brought peace to‘ a war-torn and anarchistic Northern
N1 gene are largely exaggerated. Lugard (who probably
believed it) and his successors had good reason to present
their mission as a "civilizing and ‘pacifying" one. But,
anat‘ehy was not the prevailing condition, even on the
box‘Ciers of Abuja (or Kantagora, for that matter). Never-
the less quasi-military campaigns ostensibly carried out

“1‘ Punitive purposes, were not uncommon, and provided

an exeuse for slave-raiding and ambushing D'of trade-routes.

““33 had by 1902, 'gained a reputation among the other

states of Hausaland, as being a refuge for brigands.

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151

But this represented a very brief period Just prior to the
final occupation by the British, and it was not the normal
case in the nineteenth century. The fact that the Dogon
Sarki opened Abuja to traders and guarded the routes with
his own horsemen, indicates the normal state of affairs
that prevailed from the mid-nineteenth century at least,
and long before as far as internal peace and security
were concerned.

The Habe view was (and the traditions reflect it
strongly) that raiding a few isolated pagan villages for
Slaves every year or so, did not upset the normal peace.
EBesides excuses were usually found (for example, failure
to pay adequate annual tribute), and the raids were wholly
legitinate in the eyes of the Habe ruling classes.

The rulers of Abuja never considered the subject
Populations as a serious challenge to their ancient poli-
tical structure. These peoples were simply absorbed as
Subjects, and ruled accordingly, though as pagans they

could (as in the eighteenth century and before) be raided
13'1":er and were never part of the government tillthey

became Muslims themselves, and therefore eligible for!

°rficial status .

...)‘llillbl'kvi. —. .2

3......

152

The remarkable thing is not that Abuja government
made some minor adaptations to these local conditions,
taut that the forms of government were preserved intact and
id: turn superimposed upon the local villages. I would
(lispute the view that these subject people used Abuja's
Ipolitical institutions as models for their own, copying
them extensively if badly.62 Abuja quite deliberately
"assimilated" these peoples into their structure, finding
ZLegitimate places for local chiefs and elders, and there-
tsy extending the constitutional government of Abuja to
the entire Emirate. In other words, once a pagan was con-
‘verted, he could theoretically-enter fully into Abuja
society and government as a. participating "citizen.”
lixamples_abound: by the reign of Sarkin Ibrahim Iyalai
(11877-1902) intermarriage between the pagan tribes had
become so common that even the Galadima and Hombai were

lien of pagan descent, in this case Koro.63 The Jarmai,

62Ibid., p. 12.

63Field Notes, Abuja, 1966. See Appendix (no. 13).

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153

who was always eXpected to be the champion of the army in
battle and the best warrior, was traditionally a Gwari.614
The fact that village heads were brought directly
into the administrative structure is another obvious ex-
amiple of the ease and extent of Abuja's governmental ex-
Pansion into the newly conquered pagan lands.55 Another
example would be the vassal chiefs (Kawa, Jiwa, Kuje,
Abuci, et cetera) who were considered as part of the
rank order called "royal officials," and ruled in their
localities as legitimate vassals under the Emir, holding
1:heir traditional lands as a kind of "fief," but allowed
to use traditional procedures in purely local patterns.
In a sense, Abuja used its own system of "Indirect Rule"
in dealing with the large pagan populations in the expand-
ing Emirate. The traditional chiefs were incorporated as
Vassalsto the Emir, governing {their units as before

(these local peoples had no developed governmental

61!
.Ibid.

6
51b1d.

 

\

15“

"structure" in the formal sense—-generally having "head-

men" or lineage heads who were nominally their repre-

sentatives). The Habe of Abuja, like the British after

them, did not fully realize that peOple like the Gwari,
did not possess true "government" of their own and in
assigning the "headmen" of local units or vassal chiefs,
Vere often committing the same error as the British later

on in other parts of Nigeria and Africa.

This is not, however, our immediate concern, and
the Habe system worked out fairly well in practice, mostly

because the rulers in Abuja cared little for abstract

"Justice" in the western sense. They only wished to pro-

cure a regular tribute and to be able to control military
and political events within the pagan areas.

There was, however, a formal structure behind the
VaBaal chiefs, and this simple structure needs comment.
Each pagan area which constituted a political unit in the

BOVernmental structure of Abuja was designated the re-

8Dmnsibility of a ”District Head." Usually these officials

“are appointed, the office being given to men who already

held a title and sat in council (the office itself was not

155

specifically titled). Most of them stayed at court in
Abuja, for the Emir preferred (as in Zaria) to keep
his subordinates within easy reach. They travelled
to their districts for taxation purposes and whenever
trouble called them, but always as agents of the central
bureaucracy, not as local rulers. The vassal chiefs
(who in rare cases combined both functions, as in Kuje,
Where the District. Head was also the ”Chief") generally
carried on local government on their own and according
to ethnic tradition. Interference from Abuja on this
level was rare.

Some District Heads had more than one area of
reSponsibility, never with adjacent borders. This was
nC>t3---as in medieval England—-for purposes of segmenting
the power of a District Head (though it performed that
i‘l‘u’lction too) for the D.H. was primarily an administrative
officer, not a local satrap. Most of these District Heads
sent messengers (Ajele) to do their business when necessary.

However, the power to act locally does seem to have

gr‘QWIFI in the nineteenth century in the larger outlying

 

er.

155

specifically titled). Most of them stayed at court in
Abuja, for the Emir preferred (as in Zaria) to keep
his subordinates within easy reach. They travelled
to their districts for taxation purposes and whenever
trouble called them, but always as agents of the central
bureaucracy, not as local rulers. The vassal chiefs
(who in rare cases combined both functions, as in Kuje,
Where the District. Head was also the "Chief") generally
Carried on local government on their own and according
to ethnic tradition. Interference from Abuja on this
level was rare.

Some District Heads had more than one area of
1"(Esponsibility, never with adjacent borders. This was
n(“Sm-as in medieval England--for purposes of segmenting
the power of a District Head (though it performed that
funCtion too) for the D.H. was primarily an administrative
officer, not a local satrap. Most of these District Heads
sent messengers (Ajele) to do their business when necessary.

However, the power to act locally does seem to have

grown in the nineteenth century in the larger outlying

i1.-. ......5 Hel'll. '.
ll

156

areas, such as Zuba or Gwanzu. There was really no re-

straining force except the Emir himself, and his ability

to keep a check on his officials depended on his skill as

an administrator. In general, he rarely interfered. When

a. case was brought to the Emir, this was probably the only

time that he had personal contact with the details of any

given local governmental unit. According to the Dallatu,

the local people were "happier" when the District Head,
'hatever his title and duties in Abuja, was living in the

area (as was usually the case in units with large towns

in them, like Izom or Kuta). In Izom, for example, the

Turaki was the local representative in Abuja, yet he lived

normally at Izom (which is only six miles away), where he

c=<>uld keep an eye on things. But in the outlying pagan

Villages and chiefdoms (Izom was unusual also in being a
cK‘nmlllechal center) the central government was more of an

absentee and sporadic thing, than it was an overwhelming

And immediate presence. This is adequately illustrated

by the tradition of sporadic slave-raids as "punitive"

expeditions, and by the simple fact that most Gwari

 

 

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wrjgllages were built on the top of very steep, almost in-
accessible hills.“

.The District Heads always received any pertinent
ZL<>cal instruction through a senior representative of the
Abuja government, who was always a member of the council
(except in a large unit such as Kuje or Jiwaj where the
District Head himself was always a member of council, like
the Turaki). In these matters the Barde traditionally
acted as a go-between (for his home always faced the
Emir's to signify that he had free access at all times
to his ruler).

In Abuja itself, the District Heads of the local
afilministration (if it can be called that) had their counter-
Parts in Hard Heads, always senior title holders who repre-
sented a section or. "ward" in the town. The Madawaki,
for example, was Ward Head of a large quarter (Unguwa)

111 Abuja town, as was the Galadima.67
66Field Notes, 52315, 1966.

67
Ibid., No. l.

158

Finally, some of these local areas were held by

various District Heads as “hereditary "fiefs." But these

were not fiefs in the medieval and Western sense. As the

Dal latu puts it, "we say the whole land belongs to the
Blair and he divided it up for different people to use for

themselves."68 Usually an area designated as an unguwa
01‘ "ward" was hereditary, therefore classed as a fief.

But many gunduma or "districts" were not hereditary. The

aaladima, besides his small ward in Abuja town, also held

“'0 outlying districts called Guni and Gusoro, but these

'el‘e not hereditary. Therefore, land was not owned by

"fiefholders" except when it was hereditary, and never

by a District Head who did not additionally have a here-
ditary right to the land and who did not farm it yearly.
(If any farmer let land lie fallow for six years or more,

the Emir gave it to someone else).59

To sum up, a statement taken directly from a

transcribed tape of an interview with Alhaji Hassan.
581bid., No. 2-

69Field Notes, Abuja, Alhaji Hassan, July, 1966.

 

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159

I>£Lllatu of Abuja, will dramatically illustrate the general

(eitfect of Abuja's system of local government:

In the old days the Emir would allow pagan customs

to go unmolested and he encouraged local ritual

with gifts and sacrifice. To show all the peOple

that everybody was under him and that he allowed all

religions to flourish, this was done. Islam was

spread only by persuasion.7O

The real distinction, therefore, in local units

was according to the size of the area. Most units admini-
Stered as a "district" (and these were always changing)
contained several pagan villages. Some, like 1:} a-Koro
were large towns and nothing else, while others were
typified by Ija—Gwari, a ”village" containing many
"\tillages,' in short, a "district" with one official
I‘esponsible for it (in these smaller areas the repre-
Bentative was always either a Councillor or one of the
children of the Ruling House of Abuja. The town of Abuja

itself was (and is) regarded as a "village area" like

1.1 a—Koro, with one village "head" called Ban ama, yet it

70
Ibid., No. l.

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160

was divided into separate "wards" which were in effect,
the fiefs of important title holders. The exception
proves the rule!

This system, with truly constitutional "checks
and balances" on the central administration in Abuja,
and such finely balanced political power groups, was an
uncommonly fair one. If "punitive" slaving expeditions
became acceptable in the latter part of the century, they
were no worse than anything the hill pagans had had pre-
viously, and they were never officially condoned as part
of official policy.‘ (One wonders whether the small measure
of security this system did bring to the myriad pagan
peoples was not much better than the uncertainty which a
lack of regular contact must have bred prior to the nine-
teenth century). Under an Emir like Ibrahim Iyalai (who
was primarily a warrior and seems to have lacked state-
craft) the local administration could lapse almost totally.
Then the Emirate was only worthy of the name insofar as
the government in Abuja could still tax (and raid) at will.
But under a shrewd statesman like Abu Kwaka (1851-1877)
the Hausa, pagans and strangers from outside the Emirate

lived in peace.

A BUIA
Approximm‘e OH?” in I900

  

 

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Dominion:

161

162

Some of this appears paradoxical. Perhaps it was.
This was a genuinely flexible system, certainly worthy of
continuation in some form. In fact, since this system
was not very different from that of the Fulani Emirates
in Northern Nigeria (the Fulani had, like the British
after them, continued the best of the ancient Habe forms
and patterns of government), the British saw little reason
to abolish it when they set up their administration after
1902. They adapted it, as they did most of the other forms
of Abuja government, to their own needs. That they did so

might be considered a tribute to the system.

A Brief Comparison of the
Two Systems

Having considered the governmental system among
the Upper Mende of Sierra Leone and among the Hausa of
Abuja Emirate, let us briefly contrast them as they existed
before the British. In the above chapters, we have con-
centrated heavily on the governmental structures in the
abstract. This is necessary, for as Meyer Fortes and

Evans-Pritchard point out in their anthology, African

\f

163

Folitical Systems: "A comparative study of political
systems has to be on an abstract plane where social
processes are stripped of their cultural idiom and are
reduced to functional terms."71 This is not to say that
the obvious connection which exists between a people's
culture and their social organization can be ignored by
the historian, but only to emphasize that the nature of
such interrelationships is a problem of sociology. The
purpose here is to draw conclusions of a theoretical
kind about certain African political organizations in
transfermation.

Fortes and Evans-Pritchard have classified poli-
tical systems in Africa into two types, Group A, which
consist of those which have "centralized authority,
administrative machinery and judicial institutions--in
short a government--and in which cleavages of wealth,
privilege and status correspond to the distribution of

power and authority." Group B refers to "those which

71M. Fortes and Evans-Pritchard, African Political
Systems (London, 196“), Introduction, p. 3.

16L!

lack centralized authority, administrative machinery,
and constituted judicial institutions--in short which
lack government-oand in which there are no sharp divisions
of rank, status of wealth."72

It should be obvious from my description of the
governmental systems in Abuja and in Mendeland, that these
definitions only partially fit.* That is, the governmental
structure in Abuja fits perfectly into Group A; it has all
the requirements. (Though its judicial system was flexible
and barely fixed as a uniform institution, it was never-
theless, an institution with functions of its own).
where w. G. Smith could find "significant differences"
in Abuja which did not exactly fit Max Weber's ideal type
01' utraditional government ," no doubt remains that Abuja

P033essed a "government" as defined by leading political

anthI'Opolog:|.sts . 73

72
Fortes and Evans-Pritchard, African Political

m} p0 5.

3
Smith, Zazzau, p. 68.

165

The Mende chiefdoms in Sierra Leone present, as
inc have seen, a problem. Though they did lack sophisticated
"administrative machinery," and ”constituted judicial in-
stitutions," they were certainly in the early stages of
'"centralized authority." This was the case, at least, in
Iluawa Chiefdom, as well as in Dea, where strong Chiefs
vmere able to rule almost as despots in areas controlled
by their loosely-constituted military organizations. In
a. very real sense, Mende Paramount Chiefs had more immediate
power than did any Emir of Abuja.

Where to put the Mende Chiefdoms presents a
Problem if we stick to the above definitions. Indeed,
much controversy has revolved around this problem of
definitions, especially in the field of anthropology. The
Cl“I’lnitions given by Fortes and Evans-Pritchard are not
de1‘:l.nitive by any means. Professor Lucy Mair, in her book,
EEEggitive Government, provides us with some further cate-
EOries, which are most helpful. She talks of "government
Fithout the state," and includes "minimal government" and

"diffused government" in this broad category.“ The Mende

7aLucy Mair, Primitive Government (Baltimore, 196h),
DD. 61-106.

166

might have been a "diffused" system prior to the late
nineteenth century, but certainly they had gone beyond
that by the colonial era. Mende tradition indicates that
their political system was in a dynamic process of ex-
pansion. 'As Mair puts it in her chapter on'The Expansion
of Government," "We can . . . see the prototype of the
state system of government, in which (a number of terri-
torial subordinates act as agents of a superior ruler and
collect tribute on his behalf."75 Dr. Mair is talking
here of the Eastern Anuak, but her analysis might fit the
emerging chiefdoms of Upper Mende 'quite well in its most
1mpertant aspects. We have seen how the building up of
Power on a small scale was accomplished by warrior-leaders,
”finally linked by kinship ties to the political unit in
"hi-eh they functioned; how superior techniques in warfare,
as well as the absorption and contact with‘foreign peoples,
led to an increasing centralization of the war-leader's
P°Ver; and how his prestige was enhanced by his ability to

keepthe peace within the political unit, and to collect

75
Ibid., p. 119.

167

tribute through the traditional lineage-groups. Soon,
”chiefliness' became a quality possessed by certain
lineages (as is witnessed in Luawa, by Kailundu's descen-
dants, and in the other chiefdoms studied also), though
this did not become a fixed principle till the British came.
This also helped establish a link between the hereditary
.prdnciple (so highly developed in Habe government) and
'the sacred or mystical aspect of chieftaincy (so obvious
:in.Temne1and). In Mendeland this was accomplished through
Poro and it remains so to this day.’

That Mende government in the areas studied here
teas "expanding" is without doubt. Whether this was only a
local circumstance that does not apply to all of Mendeland
13 a question beyond the scope of this study.

In stark contrast to Abuja, the three Mende
chiefdoms of Luawa, Dea and Malema were at the turn of
the century, still in flux, without fixed governmental

forms, and only just evolving what might have become a

I

Poro is so important yet so "secret" in this
Structure that it warrants special consideration. See
Appendix D, III.

 

168

traditional "state" system. Abuja was a highly sophisti-
cated, much institutionalized and very complex "state,"
with its own historical precedents to explain all poli-
tical actions and to regulate all its political organs.
What the British did when they arrived in these
two different African territories, is fascinating and
illuminating. It gives meaning to the dynamics of change
Within the two systems themselves, it provides us with
comparative examples of the workings of Indirect Rule, and
it ought to illustrate most clearly the validity of the
theoretical considerations upon which this study is based.
Let us now turn to Mendeland during the last days
or ethnic independence when the British began to influence
local history. This is the period of the "scramble" for

territory-~the last decade of the nineteenth century.

w
.
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l.

CHAPTER V
THE BRITISH IN MENDELAND 1890-1900

The Background

In 1890 T. J. Alldridge was chosen as a Travelling
Commissioner to make treaties southwards and to the east
towards the Liberian boundary of Sierra Leone. A former
business agent at Sherbro, Alldridge was remarkably suited
to his task. He had already had twenty years experience
on the coast, he was still in robust health, seemed actu-
ally to enjoy the long treks into the interior, and in
fact, considered himself something of an explorer. An
enterprising man with an excellent education, he was a
good choice (as was his counterpart, Garrett, who trekked
northwards on a similar assignment), and he carried out his
duties with poise and understated British competence. It
was in this casual and peaceful guise that British Imperial-

ism arrived in the chiefdoms of Upper Mende.

169

170

Men like Alldridge had long argued that the vast
and little-known hinterland of Sierra Leone should be
Opened to commerce and to the "civilizing" influences
of the British Empire. The bloody "Sofa Wars" in the
late 1880's had convinced officials in Freetown that a
Protectorate should be established to shield the hinter-
land from the incursions of raiders and possible French
expansion towards the sea. In fact, it was repeatedly
observed that the "Manchester epoch" was over, and trade
(as well as political control) no longer fell easily
into British hands. So, in 1889 an agreement was signed
with the French, settling several outstanding boundary
disputes, preserving an earlier (1882) delimitation, but
Providing for a boundary commission to fix a frontier.
Having been stirred into realizing that a division of
the hinterland with France could mean some extension of
British influence inland, a new policy was inaugurated
by Lord Knutsford, Secretary of State, in a dispatch
dated January 1, 1890. Governor Hay of Sierra Leone
was instructed to get treaties within the agreed boundaries

binding all the signatories with a clause forbidding them

L‘

171

to make treaties with other European powers.76 The orders
from Hay to Commissioner Alldridge state the case clearly:
. . . the object of your journey-is to prevent
any Foreign Power from further surrounding and
hemming in the Colony, and that the sphere of
British influence should be extended as far as

possible consistently with the due observance
of the Anglo-French Agreement.77.

Idith his orders, Alldridge was also given a miserly twenty-
:tive pounds for gifts to the chiefs, and five N.C.O.'s from
the Suliema barracks as protection; {a modest beginning, not
eat all atypical of the means by which Britain had gained
large parts of her Empire. To one accustomed to the vast
Slums of aid money, or to the hordes of troops so common in
the non-European world today; one middle-aged but resource-
fUl man, i 25 sterling, and five N.C.O.'s seems an almost
ludicrous vanguard of Imperialism. It had its effect how-

ever,

76
Fyfe, A History of Sierra Leone, p. A86.

77S.L.A. (S.L.A. will be heretofore used as an
abbreviation for Sierra Leone Archives), 1 .‘ Aborigines

Confidential File, N.A. Letterbook, July, 1889-May, 1898,
D- 7.

172

With energy uncommon for a man in his middle-age
(especially on Africa's West Coast), Alldridge trekked
and "explored" his designated area, taking the time for
astronomical observations, botanical notations, incipient
anthropological investigations, photographs and a healthy
interest in anything new or unusual. He kept a careful
diary, from which he seems to have drawn the material for
his later books. This little-known Englishman, by the
Mende called Buwa ("big-neck") and remembered so in the
traditions, (accomplished a remarkable amount of observa-
tion and work. Anyone who has travelled (even by car) in
the same areas, and walked for any distance away from the
Present-day roads, will appreciate his accomplishments.
Alldridge was, however, typical of many of his countrymen
1n this period. (Not long after this, Governor Cardew, a
dogmatic and vigorous ex-soldier, also walked over much of
Sierra Leone Hinterland.) Alldridge considered himself to
be in the nineteenth-century explorer's tradition, and

late:- wrote of his experiences, rather in the vein of a

latter-day and lesser Livingstone. His books are delightful

and typical of the times.

173

When Alldridge and his tiny escort arrived in
Kailahun (which for a reason I could not define with

any certainty, is often called Kanre Lahun in the British

 

records) in April of 1890, he was the very first European
to see this growing capital of the powerful Mende Chiefdom.
His portrait of Chief Kallundu is a striking and obviously
affectionate one, with little of the paternalism so common
to British officials:
Kallundu was a man of small stature but large in—
telligence, beloved by the people for miles around
who used to speak of him to me as their father. He
was every inch a chief, with immense power and in-
fluence in the country, the first up-country chief
to ask the Government through me that Frontier
Police might be stationed in his town, even going

so far as to build at his own expense barracks for
the men and also official quarters.78

This indicates an unusual reaction to the British
on Kailundu's part. Unlike some powerful up-country Chiefs,
he seems to have known that the power of the British was
great enough to reach all the way to his landlocked chief-

dom; he was more than likely weary of the incessant wars on

78
Alldridge, Sherbro and Its Hinterland, p. 190.

l
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17“

his flanks and must have welcomed (for a time at least)
the token British "protection,” knowing that he could
retain control over his own governmental system for the
'rest of his life. Events were to prove this wise and able
warrior-chief correct in his immediate judgment and far-
.sighted in his policy. He had founded an incipient "state "
the immense Luawa Chiefdom.and he built well, for most of
it has endured to this day.

As Alldridge immediately recognized, Kailundu was
more than a chivalrous fighter, he was a man of vision,
and his “good sense" in welcoming the British testifies to
this. All of his adult life Kallundu had been educated in
the realities of war, diplomacy and power. It is true that
all of the Chiefs that Alldridge visited made treaties with
the British, but most of them apparently did not consider
them binding, nor were they willing to compromise their own
Power in return for the British "peace."

It would be inaccurate to say, however, that the
People of Luawa, or of the adjacent chiefdoms, welcomed
the British. They did not oppose them.however, at least

not then.

175

Much has been written on the mentality, the purpose
and the methods of Imperialism. Most of it is inaccurate,
based upon careless investigation of the actual record.
Some is accurate in detail, though all to often colored
either by a favorable bias or a commitment to anti-
imperialism. Recording oral tradition, which often deals
with the events of early colonialism, and studying the
archives of those same times, the scholar finds it dif-
ficult not to identify or sympathize with his source--
especially when it has the ring of conviction and the detail
of honest observation.

The oral tradition of Luawa, Dea and Malema, as
well as the eyewitness acounts dealing specifically with
Alldridge (Buwa) and his treaties, are not at all ambiguous.
Alldridge was liked and respected. As Senesi Kpakpaso puts
it:

The first white man who came to this cuntry was
"Bows” (Alldridge). I first heard this by hear-
say, but later I came to know him. He was the
first white man to come upland into these Chiefdoms
and to get Chiefs to sign the treaties. He was a
humorous man who was also firm with everyone. He

did not act as a stranger to us, but wanted to be
like us and never lied or cheated.79

79Field Notes, Dea, Senesi Kpakpaso, November, 1965.

176

Whatever his own convictions (he was an outspoken and artic-
ulate Imperialist who believed in the rightness of his
actions), Alldridge was civilized, fair—minded and respect-
ful in his dealings with Kallundu and other chiefs. Nowhere
in his writings does the European arrOgance so common to
many other officers in his day cr0p up. There is little of
Burton's moral superiority, none of Stanley's brutality and
blind ethnocentricity. Though Alldridge shared his country-
men's convictions about the "white-man's burden," and demon-
strated a sense of material and cultural superiority, Victor—
ian racism was absent from his writings. He was primarily
concerned with Opening the interior to commerce, and good
government was a means to that end. He believed, as Robinson
and Gallagher have phrased it,

That moral improvement and intellectual enlighten-

ment attended the growth of prosperity, that all

three depended upon political and economic freedom. . .80
Alldridge apparently was not plagued by doubts about his
mdssion; like his compatriots, he was full of a "sense of
Self-righteousness":

80Ronald Robinson and John Gallagher, Africa and the
Xigfiorians (London, 1961), p. 2.

 

 

177

Upon the ladder of progress, nations and races
seemed to stand higher or lower according to the
proven capacity of each for freedom and enter-
prise; the British at the top. . . . Lowest of
all stood the "aborigines" whom it was thought
had never learned enough social discipline to
pass from the family and tribe to the making of
a state. 1

This was the British presence, personified so
well in one able and dedicated officer, whose greatest
desire was to promote commercial development and ”industry"
‘among the peoples of the interior. The aims were modest in
outline yet ambitious in expectations, and even Alldridge
lived long enough to realize that colonialism in any form
was complex, full of unpredictable results and haphazard
in execution.

When Kallundu signed the treaty in 1891, Alldridge's
immediate aims were accomplished. War in the interior was
the greatest threat to progress and war must be stopped.
The treaties did this fairly successfully, for Kailundu and
Most of his fellow Chiefs in Mendeland realized quite well

that they had little choice.

1
Robinson and Gallagher, Victorians, p. 2.

v’.‘

178

Nevertheless the Chiefs' view of these events,
at least as it can be reconstructed from the oral tradi-
tion, was not consistent with the British view. As
one informant relates it:

Fabunde realized that much of his land would be
lost to Liberia and Guinea and that the treaty
Kallundu had signed was to prevent him from making
war on his enemies, who were not taking the lands to
the East. At the time that Captain Faitlough came,
Fabunde had sent a letter to Freetown and said that
Kaffura had started war with him from Guinea side.
. . . Fabunde got a letter from Liberia also which
said what was his country was theirs. But he did
not agree. . . . He knew that the treaty which had
been made with the white man (Bowa) was preventing
him from rightfully getting back his land and much
was lost. - .

Even when Nyagua of Panguma led many in the war
against the white man (over the hut-tax), Fabunde did
not fight, for he did not want the country to go to
Liberia or Guinea, and the British would have taken
his lands had he fought. But this was before Major
Faitlough helped drive off Kaffura, but did not take
back the lost lands in Guinea and Liberia.82

The treaties stated that the signatories could not make
treaties with other powers without the Governor's consent,
1:klat all raiding for slaves and sale of slaves must stop

(though domestic slavery was not yet abolished), that war

8zli'ield Notes, Luawa, Vandi Buigari, January,

1966.

 

.C.

’1

179

no longer was legal and that peace should be kept by the

Frontier Police, instead of by war-boys.83
This, of course, struck at the heart of the chiefly

system as it had evolved in Mendeland. Since most wealth

was garnered from war booty and slaves taken in war, the

Chiefs could not depend any longer upon the old system. If

they wished to expand their power, war and aggrandizement

were no longer legitimate means. If they wished to form

alliances against their enemies across the borders, they

now had to ask permission, and, of course, they knew they

would never get it. They had, in short, signed away many of

their traditional prerogatives, and they could easily be
I‘educed to mere shadows of their former power and prestige.
Whether they all realized this when signing the treaties is
110:; clear, but the traditions as well as the remembered

aacounts indicated that some did, particularly Kailundu.’

83SLA, NA, Minute Paper, No. 100, 1871-1891.

*Kailundu appears to have understood the implica-

1”ions of signing the treaty, for he asked for British aid
3‘? least twice before he died. He shrewdly used the

British as allies, yet he lost his independence.

180

At first, because of the tenuous nature of the
British presence in the hinterland (which remained free

of direct British government till 1896, when resident
British political officers arrived), Kailundu was able to

govern nearly as before, little bothered by the British,

though always reminded of their power by the small force

of "Frontiers”.stationed in his capital. War was outlawed,

but the large and well-run chiefdom brought in considerable

wealth through the customary tribute system (outlined in

Chapter III), and in the absence of war or its imminent
threat, the farms flourished. At first sight, it looked

as if Alldridge might have been right. Slaves, however,

Kallundu had in plenty, he needed no more, and like most

warriors, he had never been given to ostentation. Slaves,

til‘lough legally free if they wished to leave their masters,
w<'.>rked the Chief's fields; many lesser men, however, were
t’CDrced to work their own farms as the number of slaves
cieozuined. Many ex-slaves leftfor new homes, or simply

3"Earted their own farms and compounds (since domestic slaves

were never frozen in servitude among the Mende, such transi-

tions were not difficult).8“

8“Field Notes, Luawa, Brimah Komo, February 2, 1966.

I‘

181

While there is not much doubt that the provisions
of the treaties which prohibited war and slavery were con-
sidered onerous by the leaders of the various chiefdoms,
compliance marked the first years of British influence.
Actually, a legal "protectorate" had not yet been declared
and the only basis for enforcing the treaties was a handful
of "Frontiers," who were not popular among the local peOple.
As we shall later see, these "Frontiers" were often ex-war-
boys or renegades who abused their new—found power. But the
diplomacy of Alldridge and the great prestige of Kallundu
were strong factors in preventing any outbreak of defiance.

Aside from the treaties, no other attempts were
made by the British to direct affairs in the Kailahun area
until the Protectorate was established in 1896. We do
have some evidence however, of the indirect influence of
the Freetown Government. In August of 1892, Paramount Chief
Kailundu sent a letter to the Superintendent of the Depart-
ulent of Native Affairs, Mr. J. C. Earnest Parkes (a Creole
With a real understanding of the hinterland), which asked
for aid against the invading "Sofa“ warriors of Samory, lord.

01‘ the Futa Jallon. These Muslim horsemen were raiding

. \

182

southwards into the Kissi sub-chiefdoms of Luawa, and
Kailundu, who had fought them before, was careful to honor
the treaty of 1891. He asked for British help. The answer
to Kailundu's request came from Earnest Parkes:

My Good Friend,

Your letter dated the 23rd has been received and

laid before his excellencey the Governor who directed

me to inform you that his Government cannot give you

any armed support to drive the Sofas from Bandeme,

but that endeavors are being made to restrain your

antagonist by moral influence.85

The "moral influence" alluded to in the letter was

nothing more than a request to the French that they prevent
Samory's warriors from raiding into British territory, which
the French did. Also, instructions were sent to the
Frontier Police to "patrol" the border areas, though
these "Frontiers" were obviously of little help in such
matters. Though there is no direct evidence in the archives,
it appears from the local tradition that Kallundu defended
himself effectively, while pretending total compliance to the
letter of the treaty. One wonders what Kailundu thought of
the words "moral influence."

85S.L.A., N.A. (Confidential) Letterbook No. H97,
1891-1893, p. 201.

183

In 1895, just before Kailundu's death, he sent
another letter to the Government via a messenger named
Konuwah, which explains in forthright language that a
neighboring "King" named Chorchor Ofbandehmeh had "brought
war on him and burnt a large town of one of his principal
chiefs. . . ." He asked for aid in retaliation so as to
protect his country from further assault.86 Since the
above Chief was from Liberia there was little the Govern—
ment in Freetown could do but urge restraint. A letter
from Earnest Parkes indicates that Kallundu had indeed
continued to use his powerful army in areas not designated
by the treaty (which only prevented war "on any Chiefs
within the Queen's frontier road and the sea coast. . ."87)
AAlJ.that Earnest Parkes' letter really contains is advice

‘to Kailundu, "not to carry war anywhere.”88

86S.L.A., N.A., Minute Paper (cited as M.P. hereto-
fore), No. 200, 189M.

87S.L.A., N.A., M.P. No. 100, 1871—1891.

88
S.L.A., N.A., Letter Book, No. 558, 1895-1896.

184

All of Kailundu's communications to the Department
of Native Affairs indicate a strong impatience with the
physical restraint imposed upon him by the treaty of 1891
(and yet Kailundu was considered to be a model chief by
Freetown). One consequence, as is noted in a letter to
Mr. J. C. Earnest Parkes in 1894, was that Luawa lost a sub-
chiefdom in "upper Gizee" when a sub-chief named Kaffurah
rebelled and "joined the French to take the whole country."89
This particular incident was of considerable importance, for
it involved relations with France and Liberia and it was in
fact the beginning of a long period of border disputes which
‘were not resolved until 1913.

After Kailundu's death, this same Kaffurah raided
into French Guinea, and when he was chased back into Sierra
Leone by French tr00ps, attacked Kailundu's successor
Fabunde in 1897, which resulted in'a reprisal by British
troops. The upshot of all this was that Kissi Chief named

‘Bawaurume, who had raided almost unopposed into Sierra

89$.L.A., M.P., No. 200, March 8, 1894.

.q

185

Leone in 1896, grew restive again and made further trouble
on the frontier.’ Finally, Governor Cardew suggested that
this troublesome boundary be adjusted to place Kailahun

(or Kanre Lahun as it was called in Freetown) definitely
inside Sierra Leone, to resolve the question of who "owned"
the disputed sections of Luawa once and for all.

In short, the entire area was in turmoil though the
last years of Kailundu's life and the first years of his
successor's rule. Raids and reprisals were common, and
in fact, the state of almost continuous "war" in the border
areas, was one of the major considerations for the decision
to declare the hinterland of Sierra Leone a "Protectorate."

Before we discuss this, there is one further event
«of great interest which is worth mentioning. This was an
extraordinary offer from Samory himself, the "Alimami of

Fouta Jallon" who wrote a letter in Arabic to the Colonial

.This Kissi Chief was apparently not the same man
named Bawurume who Kallundu had pursued deep into Liberia
1n the 1880's. He may have been a son or relative, though
the original Bawurume seems to have been Mende.

--v

18o

Secretary through Earnest Parkes, offering his "country"

to the British Government. This was in 1894. The offer
was, of course, rejected, as the entire Futa Jallon was
under French jurisdiction. The whole episode clearly was
an attempt by the desperate Samory to find some help in his
losing war with the French.90*

So Kailundu found himself ending his very success-
ful reign in Luawa disturbed by events of far-reaching con-
sequence. He must have known that he no longer could control
the course of his people's destiny; when he died in 1895, he
was the last of the really independent chiefs of Luawa, just
as he was the first to rule with almost absolute and un-
challenged power. He does not seem to have lingered in his
death (said to have been brought on by a severe attack of
dysentery).

Not long afterwards, the haphazard British commit-

ment to Government in the hinterland changed drastically.

908.L.A., N.A., M.P., No. 457, 1894.

i'For details on Samory see H. Haunet et J. Barry,
Historie de l' Afrique Occidental Francaise, Paris, 1949,

 

187

The reasons were obvious; the consequences for the Mende
Chiefdoms were enormous.

On August the Blst, 1896 a Protectorate was formally
proclaimed over the Sierra Leone hinterland lying between
the French and Liberian frontiers. The term "Protectorate"
was not defined and its status was therefore whatever the
Colonial Government wished to make it. The Sierra Leone
Legislature in Freetown was empowered by Order in Council
(1895) to legislate for the new Protectorate as it did for
the Colony, and between 1896 and 1897 a series of ordinances
introduced the administration of the Protectorate along
familiar lines. Each of five Frontier Police Districts
‘was to have a District Commissioner at f 400 to £ 500,
who would ”share his power with the 'Paramount Chiefs'".
fflhe five Districts were Karene, Bonietta, Bandajuma,
Koinadugu and Panguma, the latter comprising the Upper
Mende and Kono countries and including the area of present-

day Kailahun District.91

91
Fyfe, A Histogy of Sierra Leone, pp. 541-542.

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188

Under the Protectorate Ordinance the Paramount
Chiefs (including Fabunde, successor to Kailundu in Luawa)
were allowed to go on.hearing cases which concerned "Na-
tives," still could collect legal fees, and award fines
and imprisonment though not corporal punishment. Serious
crimes or Secret Society offenses were to be handled by
the D.C., along with two or more assessors, in his own
court.. The D.C. sat alone in cases concerning non-natives,
slave-dealing, witchcraft, "land" cases between Paramount
Chiefs and any cases concerning tribal conflicts.92

This was a loosely organized system indeed, not
dignified (as it was to be later in Nigeria) by any speci-
fic body of legal precedent or procedure. The D.C., though
guided by English legal procedure, actually was free to do
pretty much as he pleased. He could impose fines or prison
sentences without appeal (though serious sentences or
:flogging had to be confirmed by the Governor).- Lawyers

could not plead cases in the Protectorate without special

Permission .

92$.L.A., Ordinances, 20/1896; 11/1897; 15/1897.

 

‘1

JV

.4...>

189

It was a system based upon the skill and common
sense of the D.C. He could quite literally ”rule" in a
tyrannical way if he wished, though his role was intended
to be one of advice and support for the Paramount Chiefs
in his District. Policing the District remained the re-
sponsibility of the "Frontiers,” though the D.C. had a
few "Court Messengers” to issue summonses and enforce court
orders.93

The cost of this simple Protectorate Administration
was small; however the expense of the Frontier Police came
in 1896 to more than one-fifth of the total revenue, so
Governor Cardew decided it had to be financed locally. He
.had come to the conclusion, as a result of his extensive
Htour upcountry, that he could raise direct taxes in the
JProtectorate, so he provided for an annual tax of 103 on
llouses with four rooms, Ss on houses with less, to begin
on January the 1st, 1898. The Paramount Chiefs were to be
responsible for collecting this new "House Tax," with a

commussion of 3d per house.98

93Fyfe, Histogy of Sierra Leone, p. 543.

9“s.L.A., Ordinance, 20/1896.

190

The Hut Tax Rebellion

Thus began the chain of events which led to the
rebellion in the Sierra Leone hinterland known as the Hut-
Tax War. This so-called war was one of the last armed
revolts against British colonialism in Africa. It is
important as an event in the history of the British empire,
and it throws light on the nature of early British contact
with the interior, and Mende reaction to it.

The revolt began in early 1898, when a Temne
warrior named Bai Bureh of Kasseh refused to pay the new
Hut-Tax. When a force of "Frontiers" was sent to collect
the tax and arrest the rebellious sub-chief, Bai Bureh's
supporters clashed with them and Open war broke out.*

The real center of the rebellion was in Temneland
under Bai Bureh's redoubtable leadership, but when word
Spread to Mendeland, popular resentment in the Mende
(filiefdoms easily led to resistance and by April of 1898,

*This writer talked at length with an old Temne
anx—chief of Port Loko, who was present at the outbreak

ffi'klostilities. His account of the events follows the
English accounts in singular detail.

191

nearly every British subject in central Mendeland had
been put to death, a total of well over 300.. All across
the vast green expanse of forest and river, Creole traders,
missionaries, all-—it is said--who wore pants or skirts
were hunted down and killed. Only a handful escaped. At
Rotifunk an American mission group which had long worked
among the Mende and trusted them completely, was almost
completely wiped out. From low, coconut fringed Sherbro
Island at Bonthe, District Commissioner Allridge watched
the fires of burning "factories" on the Bullom shore,
and gathered his tiny force of Frontier-Police in anti-
cipation of night attack across the lagoon. For a brief
time terror reigned even in Freetown, where rumor had it
that invasion of the Colony was imminent, and a volunteer
brigade was formed in desperation.

The “rising"(the Mende phase of the Hut-Tax
Rebellion was called the “Mende Rising”) which had started
in Bumpe country spread until it enveloped nearly all of

Mendeland, with some notable exceptions such as Madame

a
These were nearly all Creoles.

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192

Yoko's chiefdom and Luawa and Dea where there was no
chiefly support, though some among the rank and file.95
It is not within the scOpe of this study to describe
the actual course of the war. Most of the effective fight-
ing took place in Temneland, where Bai Bureh won for him-
self an enduring reputation as a courageous and able guer-
rilla leader and a fair and worthy opponent. It is our
concern here to evaluate the Mende phase of the conflict
as a manifestation of local resistance to British rule,
and perhaps as a kind of proto-Nationalist movement.'
In Mendeland the rising was planned (probably with the covert
aid and direction of the Poro Society) for a time when the
only available British forces were already engaged in
chasing the elusive Bai Bureh. Men were to rise up on a
95For a complete account of the Mende Rising,

see C. B. Wallis, The Advance of Our West African Empire
(London,l903).

 

'It is dangerous of course to refer to such a
rebellion as a kind of "nationalist” uprising, but there
are elements within Mende culture at the time which could
be called 'Proto-Nationalist." See page 56-57 , in text.

193

signal arranged through Poro and kill every English-
speaking person in Mendeland. It was initially successful,
and the massacre was large and bloody.

As to the causes of the "rising" and its real
nature, so much confusion has prevailed in most of the
literature, that a few quotations from some experienced
observers might help to throw light on the circumstances.
Mr. J. T. Alldridge writes:

. . . there seemed to be a feeling prevailing in
England and elsewhere that this rising was caused
by the imposition of the house-tax. Personally I
was never of that opinion, and subsequent events
have, I think, clearly shown that the insurrection
was not to be attributed to that cause.

To my thinking . . . for some years previous to
the rising a very serious dissatisfaction had been
growing in the minds of the chiefs; the beginning of
which discontent was to be seen in 1893, when the
transportation of slaves through the country was
stopped, I had personal evidence, when I was far
in the interior, of the effect this police order
had on the chiefs. . . .96

Like most of his contemporaries in the colonial service,
Alldridge tended to judge events in terms of the "reforms"
and innovations brought by British rule. It was not quite
so simple. But, Alldridge's appraisal of the causes for

the rising was perceptive compared with some of the stuff

96Alldridge, The Sherbro and Hinterland, pp. 304-305.

194

written at the time. It was a major factor indeed,97
that the chiefs were, "slow to perceive" that the further
introduction of "civilized" laws into the Protectorate
was a reduction of their own power over the peOple. There
was a definite and understandable desire on the part
of the Chiefs (across ethnic lines) to revive the old
prerogatives and practices abolished by or discouraged by
the British.

Alldridge's further judgment that "the rising
did not represent the feelings of the people themselves"
was only partly correct. The oral traditions maintain a
contrary impression.

There was a lively element of revolution against
alien influence in both aspects Of this rebellion. A
comment on Bai Bureh by the Creole J. C. Earnest Parkes,
Secretary for the Department of Native Affairs, is reveal-
ing of this: "As at present he is regarded as a hero

fighting for all the Timaninee (sic.) country, I am

97 _
Ibid., p. 305.

195

afraid he will not be given up even for the Fifty Pound
Reward."98

Though no single Chief rose to lead the Mende in
a heroic resistance like that of Bai Bureh and the Temne,
there was a strong element of anti-British feeling in the
Mende Rising and a desire to get the country back into
Mende hands. The fact that the oral tradition of places
like Luawa and Dea records that the rising attracted indi-
vidual men to fight against the invaders, even though the
local Chiefs opposed the rebellion, is an indication of
this.

In a special report to the colonial office on
the revolt the perceptive Mr. Earnest Parkes wrote that
the Hut-tax had nothing to do with it: .”. . . many places
like Imperri, Salima, Lavana, Memo, Turner's Peninsula,
etc., were not taxed at all." And Parkes goes on to say
that the causes were largely a reaction to the attitudes
of the "Chiefs' wives' domestics”99 (slaves) who could not

98$.L.A., Confidential N.A. Letterbook, No. 12,
1898—1899.

99Ibid., No. 25.

1.4

A

.‘I

196

obey them because the chiefs had lost their power of
coercion. He also blames the reaction to the very poor
conduct of members of the Frontier Police when off duty,
the outlawing of the slave-trade, and the limitations
set on the jurisdiction and income of the chiefs.

In retrospect, perhaps the most perceptive analy-
sis of the revolt was a memorandum written by the West-
Indian scholar, educator and statesman, Edward Blyden, who
had a surprisingly intimate knowledge of the Sierra Leone
hinterland. He was able to look upon the event without
the obvious ethnocentricity of the average European observer,
and as an "African" himself who was acutely aware of the
nature of anti-EurOpean feelings even as early as 1898,
he probably got closer to the truth. The memorandum was
sent to Antrobus of the Colonial Office, where it must have
been read with some interest, and one feels, with some
exasperation. It is a remarkable twenty-eight page
document, and it includes some of the most insightful
comments on British Imperial techniques in the 1890's that

have been written. Some samples:

X

l

l
.
w
s
4
I
-5
w

197

Those events form so melancholoy and so exceptional
an episode--altogether without precedent in kind or
degree in the history not only of Sierra Leone, but
of the whole of West Africa under British Rule that
they cannot be calmly set aside as the result of
native insubordination, love of disorder and general
depravity.100

Here Blyden relates that the revolt was not an
expression of hostility to the British or their rule (which
may, or may not be what he really felt).‘ Further on
however, he writes of the native Chiefs:“

They allege serious grievances against the arbitrari-
ness of young and inexperienced officers sent among
them called District Commissioners, entrusted with
power far beyond their capacity to wield with any
useful result. This has interfered to a deplorable
extent with the feeling of confidence under British
rule. . . .

When the source of authority is gone and every-
man begins to do what seems right in his own eyes,
and the chiefs, partly from resentment, and partly
from sheer inability to do anything, allow the
anarchy to go on, the Commissioner raises the cry of
disobedience and insubordination and brings to his
assistance the Frontier Police, consisting for the
most part of pure savages, dressed up in English
uniforms, and often the ex-slaves of the very chiefs
whom they are called upon to punish and humiliate.101

1000.0. 267, Series uuu v. III, p. 1. July 28.
1898.

1°11bid., p. 10.

198

Blyden, continuing in this blistering and quite
accurate vein, went on to condemn the whole structure of
rule in the Protectorate, even going so far as to say
that it had become, "a subject of ridicule" to the neigh-
boring French officials. His final recommendation was
that British hegemony over the hinterland is unnecessary
and unproductive of either peace, justice or commerce.

He advocated a kind of loose "indirect" system (not at all
like Indirect Rule as it developed) of rule which would
preserve British "commercial ascendency" in the region

and yet allow Africans to control their own political
affairs short of war. In a sardonic last blast at the
whole system he said: "I do not think the mind of any
European can be relied on after a year's continuous resi-
dence in that climate."102

One wonders what sort of comments this elicited in
Whitehall, whose officials were used to Blyden's letters.
Blyden's own judgment that, "to tell the proud and dominant

Anglo-Saxon this--who enjoys uninterrupted health at home,

102
Ibid., p. 26.

199

is to incur the retort that you are talking nonsense,"
was probably quite accurate.1°3

Actually, whatever faults or merits there might
have been in Blyden's recommendations about British rule,
his appraisal of the causes of the rising was penetrating
and accurate. Even more important, he pierced to the
heart of the problem of the Protectorate Administration
in his comments on the District Commissioners and their
disruptive effect upon traditional political and social
arrangements. We shall deal with this in due course.

The Hut-tax.Rebellion was in reality a rather
bitter guerrilla war fought by a determined and skilled
enemy (at least in Temneland) against alien control. It
ultimately cost the British many more casualties than all
the famous campaigns of Northern Nigeria four or five years
later at Sokoto, Kano, etc. It deserves our attention in
relation to its causes as well as its effects, for this

war bears resemblance to the last Ashanti Wars and was an

10
3Ibid., p. 26.

-‘
Ail
{

.0

o

200

attempt to assert local independence from British rule.
One hopes that someday a proper history will be written
of the rebellion itself and the military campaigns on both
sides.

Kenneth Little, in his book, The Mende of Sierra
2332:, comments that the Mende Chief's attitude towards
the British representatives of the government at the time
of the rebellion was "friendly and accommodating, but not

subservient."10u

This is supported, as Little points out,
by the testimony of men like Alldridge. The rising was in
part a misunderstanding by the Chiefs of their role in

the new system. But it also was a rebellion against

alien rule and nothing less.

The reforms that followed the rebellion were not
calculated to solve the problem by curing the “symptoms"
of the ailment. They were calculated, on the contrary,
to achieve an almost total revolution in the relationship

of traditional authorities to the government, and to

revise of the system of rule in the Protectorate.

10h
Little, The Mende, p. 5“.

20]

In Mendeland the rising, though carefully planned
through Poro in its initial stages, was a disorganized and
confused affair. The only result was slaughter and destruc-
tion. With no one like Bai Bureh to lead them, the Mende
fought mostly as a rabble without central direction, in-
capable of sustained opposition or guerrilla tactics.
Whether or not Bumpe in Upper Mende.was the center of the
"conspiracy" it was used in certain cases as a password.
Nyagua of Panguma was known to have summoned Chiefs to
secret meetings in Panguma and had exhorted them to drive
the white man out of their country.105 No doubt, Nyagua
was an instigator, if not a leader in the rising in Mende-
land.

Though the rising in Mendeland was ostensibly
calculated to force all Poro members to fight on a "swear,"
it actually gathered support only in areas where plunder
and success seemed obvious. Host of these places were not
in Upper Mende, and if the rising was planned in Upper

105
Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 570.

‘0

..

I

202

Mende, it was never widespread there. Luawa, for example,
escaped direct involvement, as did both Malema and Dea.

According to informants in both Malema and Dea
Chiefdoms, Chiefs Pambu of Malema and Kinne Yaku of Dea
”both had refused to support Nyagua at the meeting in
Panguma. Some of the younger warriors, however, elected
to Join in the rebellion, and were later captured and
executed by the British.106

It was at Bandajuma that one of the most serious
battles in the Mende phase of the war took place. The
British D.C. there, a Mr. Carr, managed to repulse the
attacks, but was cut off from May 7th to May 22nd, when
he was relieved by a column from Sherbro. In Panguma in
April Nyagua submitted to the Frontier Police, but in
June a lends force tried to rescue him, failing in several
attacks. Panguma was relieved on May 23rd by the British
under MaJor Faitlough, who had fought his way into Upper
Mende from Kwela, where the massacre of Creoles was

horrible.

106Field Notes, Malema and Dea, 1966..

203

The combination of these engagements, with numer-
ous others of lesser note, though producing negligible
casualties to the British troops, were destructive of
human life and property (almost entirely Mende and Creole)
to a degree unknown in the history of Mendeland. Nor has
it been repeated since. Short-lived though the "rising"
was, it conjured up an image of savage murder in the dark
hinterland (then mostly still unknown) which was slow to die.
It was another episode in the story of colonial conquest
which only added to the African's reputation for barbarism.
The "civilized" manner in which the Temne under Bai Bureh
fought was forgotten, Just as the massacre in Mendeland
was remembered.

By August of 1898, the rebellion was over, having
petered out in a series of minor raids in Hendeland (though
in Temneland the British won only after a hard campaign
that resulted in more than sixty or seventy villages burned).107

It was a costly war. Six British officers lost

their lives (some by disease), and a total of at least 230

107
Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 585.

20h

casualties, including carriers, was tallied on the govern-
ment side. No good estimate of the number of Temne and
Mende warriors and civilians (not to mention Creole, Euro-
pean and American missionaries) that were killed is avail-
able. The aftermath, with 83 officially recorded hangings
for murder, probably pushed the total of lives lost as a
result of the rebellion to more than 1,500..108 By modern
standards, this seems rather insignificant (perhaps un-
fortunately for us), but it was not considered so by the
the British government of that day.

Finally, before the British troops withdrew from
the Protectorate, rumors were reported that attackers from
Kissi country (enemies of Kailundu's successor Fabunde
of Luawa) were_gatheringin Liberia to attack Kwelu. They
were led by Nyagua's son and a small group of renegade
Sofas. Faitlough therefore led his columns into the
Kailahun Salient, and with Fabunde's help dispersed the
invaders, converging in February of 1899 on Panguma (a
last stronghold of the rebellion), where the coalition of

Fabunde's enemies was broken up. He marched back to

1°81b1d., p. 591.

205

Freetown by a wayward route, displaying the flag con-
spicuously.109 So ended the last of the fighting and
peace was restored to Mendeland.

When the British began to reconstruct their govern-
ment in the hinterland, they were in no mood for concilia-
tion and compromise (though they were, of course, forced to
it later), particularly as regards the chiefs and their .
power and authority. This is the subject of another chapter,
however, and will be treated in detail. Suffice to say here
that by the turn of the century, the British had learned a
lesson about colonial rule in Sierra Leone. Whether they
learned the lesson well, and deduced from it the "right"
answers will always be a matter of speculation, though this

study should shed some light on the question.

1091bid., p. 591.

CHAPTER VI
THE BRITISH IN ABUJA

Lugard, Imperialism and the
Conquest of Abuja

Northern Nigeria was vast, little known, populated
by powerful Muslim Emirs,.some of them ready to
fight for their independence, or by small defiant
pagan tribes which had defied their rule. It has
never been mastered by the Royal Niger Company.
Most of the region had still to be conquered in
daring campaigns or occupied in strength. Having
created a military force Lugard had now to recruit,
train and direct an administration, devise a system
“of government which could handle both large and
historic Muslim emirates with their walled ciiaes
and naked pagans in their hills and forests.

Frederick Lugard, soldier, adventurer, governor
and colonialist extraordinary was a man who had succumbed

early in life to the work ethic. His biographer, quoted

above, paints a striking picture of the tough little

110Marjory Perham, in Lugard's, The Dual Mandate

in British Tropical Africa (London, 1965), p. xxxv.

206

As

207

Victorian who created Nigeria and founded Indirect Rule

as a philosophy of colonial government. “He delighted

to stretch his body in long marches in defiance of danger,
distance, heat, flood, thirst, even fever. . .," and was
quoted as saying, "I love to have more work than I can
do."111 This was the man of action, who put his theories
into practice, who, in seven hectic years as British High
Commissioner for Northern Nigeria,created a system of
government so administratively successful, that it became

a model for colonial rule elsewhere in Africa for decades.
Rightly or wrongly (and students of recent Nigerian
history--especially the bloody riots of May, June and October
of 1966 in Northern Nigeria--may draw their own conclusions)
the system has been the central issue (scholarly and prac-
tical by turn) around which discussion of the whole nature
of British Imperial Rule in West Africa has turned. It is,
therefore, essential to understand, at least in outline,

the theory of Indirect Rule, the men who made it work, and

their methods.

111Ibid., p. xxxvi.

208

It is not my intention to condemn "British admini-
stration of this period, especially indirect rule, as a
deliberate and subtle attempt to retain power by suppressing

African progress and unity."112

That would be, in my mind,
absurd. It is rather my aim to analyze in one particular
circumstance how the system actually worked (a task rarely
attempted for some reason) or did not work; to investigate
at first hand some specific examples, and to extrapolate
from them a general view of the system in operation. I
have already explained the methodology and the theory be-
hind this in the first chapter.

Lugard, on his appointment in 1900 as High Commis-
sioner for Northern Nigeria (which was only a protectorate
in name, and not in fact), found a challenge so great that
it sorely taxed his renowned powers of concentration and
vigorous administration. Unlike the hinterland of Sierra
Leone, the Muslim North was a land with an ancient past,

with cultural connections with.the Islamic world, with a

traditon of military strength and slave-raiding which made

112 - . .‘
Ibid., p. xlviii.

g,‘

3,;

209

the kind of peaceful and gentlemanly treaty-making
practiced by Alldridge and Garrett in Sierra Leone a
practical impossibility. The Protectorate was molded
from theory to reality by a series of military and diplo-
matic campaigns which are beyond the scope of this study,
and Lugard emerged victorious and famous. Though we
cannot discuss all these events, we can concentrate on
the object of our interest, Abuja. Perhaps a deeper under-
standing of the microcosm will make the macrocosm more
intelligible.
One year after his appointment as High Commissioner,
Lugard wrote his Annual Report for the period from January 1,
1900 to March 31, 1901. In this report, the first of a
long series, Lugard explains his aims with characteristic
candor and brevity. He writes:
The policy which I am endeavoring to carry out as
regards the natives of the Protectorate may, per-
haps, be usefully summarized here. The government
utilizes and works through the native chiefs, and
avails itself of the intelligence and powers of
governing of the Fulani caste in particular, but
insists upon their observance of the fundamental
laws of humanity and justice. Residents are
appointed whose primary duty it is to promote this

policy by the establishment of native courts, in which
bribery and extortion and inhuman punishments shall

210

be gradually abolished. Provincial courts are
instituted to deal with non-natives, and to
enforce these laws of the Protectorate, more
especially which deal with slave raiding and
slave trading, the import of liquor, firearms,
and extortion from villages by terrorism and
personation.113
Though the policy was to make arrangements with
the local rulers by means of treaties on these principles,
Northern Nigeria was not taken by peaceful penetration,
as in Sierra Leone, nor was it, in fact,a case of the
flag following trade.llu. The Protectorate was taken by
force, either actual fighting or display of force, and
all resistance was quickly put down, until the inhabitants
learned that they could not stand up to the disciplined
troops and advanced arms of the British government.
Abuja was no exception to this, and though it
rested in the southern part of the area called the "middle

belt," which was not really considered by Lugard and others

Kaduna National Archives, Kaduna, Colonial
Reports, No. 3&6, (herafter cited as K.N.A.); "Annual
Report for the year 1900-1901," Lugard, p. 26.

 

ll“
K.N.A., Annual Report, 100-1901, p. 22.

211

as part of the Muslim North, it was known to be ruled by
a Habe Emir. The first British official to visit the
Emirate in 1900 was refused entry at the gates of Abuja,
and carried a letter from the Chief of Zuba back to Lugard,
who immediately sent a letter of warning and a Union Jack
back to Zuba.115 This was a typical tactic, in effect con-
fronting the Emir with an ultimatum. Though it was sent
to the wrong man, that is a vassal chief who had little
power, it had its effect. It said in part:
After this:

I warn you with utmost seriousness to take heed

of your conduct and to pass on this warning to

your people. Also you shall take care of this

flag; do not treat it lightly.

After this:

I tell you that we are the rulers of the world.

If a man does aught by night, we know of it by

morning; if by day, we know of it by night, you

may be sure of that. Therefore take heed of

your behavior.116 - A

In this imperious tone, Lugard gave word of British suzer-

eignty in Abuja. The letter smacks of melodramatic hogwash,

115Hassan and Naibi, Chronicle of Abuja, p. 2“.

116Ibid., p. 25.

212

and must not have been believed locally. No doubt, how-
ever, such verbiage made good copy in London. It probably
was the kind of stuff that made all Jingoists glow inwardly
and all knowledgeable Imperialists smile. It reveals a lot
about Lugard's techniques.

The immediate reaction in Abuja was to carry on as
before. We have already seen how in these years around the
turn of the century, the Madawaki's men, mostly footsoldiers
who lived in Kutada, Tawada and Uma'isha Districts (all
under the jurisdiction of the Madawaki) were regularly
raiding the roads through the Emirate and nearby. There
was a regular trade route through Lokoja which passed
through the Emirate on the way to Zaria, and they har-
rassed this route, killing traders, taking their goods,
and sending part of their share to the Madawaki, who
also sent a share to the Emir. A British resident, darnegie,
was killed at Tawari, not far from Uma'isha in June of 1902,
and soon after an African Christian named Bako was murdered
along with a British messenger on this road.117 The

117
Ibid., p. 2“.

h

213

situation was serious enough by then that the British
resident in Keffi, Captain Maloney (who had been wounded
in the Ashanti campaign in 1900, and was murdered in
Keffi in 1902) wrote a letter to Lugard at Lokoja recom-
mending action:

It is the question in this province and peOple are
always asking, "when are you going to break Abuja"--
and it being of common repute that the Abuja people
assisted by Rokari from Nassarawa, Keffi and other
towns are the raiders-~they raid the Bassas and
Gwari people situated to the West and South-West of
the Province--sometimes they break the road between
Ries and Soma. . . .

I need not point out to your Excellency the
urgent need there is to punish these people-~they are
said to be well armed--and as they have no country to
go to should offer a strong resistance--dividing up
into several large parties they raid in all directions--
if they are not punished the rest of the towns will fol-
low their example. . . .118

Maloney also informed Lugard that the town of Abuja had
three high walls and six gates and a fighting population

estimated at six thousand.

So, the decision was made, and a strong military
expedition was dispatched to Abuja to force an end to

Brigandage and to enforce the "Pax Brittanica.” In

118K.N.A., SNP 15/1 Acc. No. 31, July, 1902.

21“

August, 1902, Captain Moloney and a Lieutenant-Colonel
named Beddoes, with a company of sixteen British and 268
rank and file (African troops), supported by two cannon
and two maxim guns, arrived before Abuja. In his explana-
tion for the expedition, sent in October of 1903 to Joseph
Chamberlain, Lugard says:

This place has long been proverbial as the head-
quarters of a nest of bandits who defied authority
and daily initiated raids and outrages on caravans.
. . . Capt. Moloney, Resident of the Province
(Nassarawa) represented to me that the matter had
become too urgent to be long delayed and I therefore
directed an expedition to march to Abuja to effect
the arrest of the principal leaders of these raiding
bands, who were well-known.

. . . almost every European was prostrated by sick-
ness owing to the continuous rain.

The force was opposed and some 30 of the enemy killed
(including the king) without casualties on our side.
The town was preserved from harm and patrols set out
to prevent looting, and the chiefs who were not in-

criminated, and the peasantry, rapidly returned and
settled down. . . .1 9

The telegrams from Moloney, as well as the remembered
history of the conflict in Abuja, agree on major points.
The struggle was brief and quite decisive. The coded
telegrams give a cryptic picture.

119K.N.A., SNP 15/1 Acc. No. 90, Report on Abuja
Expedition, Nassarawa Province. 23 Oct. 1903.

215

Abuja entered 15th after resistance. Enemy known
casualties 20. Maidaiki (£13.) arrived. Arrested
by Colonel Beddoes personally--Sariki and people
fled town occupied 6th.

. . . men will be sent out to endeavor arrest Sariki,
and others wanted and when chief men return will inform
them country subject to Y.E. . . . wealth of country
greatly overestimated.

And later:

Sariki Abuja resisted arrest-~Shot--brought into

Abuja and buried--new King installed named Banni.

Next in succession-~Abuja Country taken over by Y.E.

100 horses required as fine--50 percent of taxes be

payed over to govt. subject to Y.E.'s sanction and

approval. . . .

Moloney.120
Though most of the Resident's reports were accurate

enough in detail about the fighting, some of his statements
were based on ignorance of local conditions, and were partly
responsible for later misunderstandings about the nature of
Abuja's government. This shall be considered in a later
chapter, as part of the analysis of political transformation
in Abuja. But it is interesting to look also at the story
of the invasion of Abuja as seen by local peOple. One old

man, still living in the town, recalls it in lurid detail:

120
K.N.A., SNP 15/1 Acc. No. 31. Telegram 23/8/02.

July, 1902.

216

The British came from Keffi, with Captain Moloney in
command, they built a camp where the Pottery Center
now stands. Then they sent a messenger called Audu
Timtim to the Emir Ibrahim Iyalai. After greeting
the Emir, Audu Timtim was given a ram by the Emir
(this is a custom of the town). The ram was killed
inside the town, by the Zauren Zazzau. The British
arrived on Friday and left on that same day.

Then the town prepared for war, because the
people had resolved to fight. The British came then
to the eastern part of the town and camped there.

The peOple then went outside the wall to fight. Moloney
sent for the Emir, but he was not there, and the
Madawakai was asked instead. Three times the Madawaki
refused though the warriors said he should go. So he
’sent a messenger to the Emir to tell him that the
British had asked him to see them. But, before the
messenger returned from the Emir, the Madawaki was
compelled by his warriors to go see the British. And
the messenger brought a negative answer from the Emir,
but it came too late. . . .

When the Madawaki went, the British Spread a
blanket for him, so he dismounted and sat down and
they asked him about the town and the Emir. They
said they would like to see the Emir himself. The
Madawaki said he would not come out. . . .

He was about to stand up to go (to get the Emir)
when he was forceably seated by soldiers and hand-
cuffed. The people saw this arrest and went back
into the town and prepared to flee. The British
fired a big gun which frightened the people. Then
some people went to inform the Emir of the Madawaki's
arrest. The Emir then came out ready to fight and
collected some of his people to the west of the town
(outside the wall) and got their opinions about where
to attack. All were mounted. They were on the point
of decision when they heard the gun again. By this
time only the royal family remained with the Emir,
and some title-holders. Then everyone fled to their
farms and left the Emir with only his relatives.
(Here a list of those who stayed with him follows.)

217

'They went to a hill near Abuchi. They remained
there for about three weeks. Meanwhile the British
occupied Abuja and stayed in the Madawaki's house.

And they asked him whom they should appoint as a
new Sarki. He told them to appoint Muhamman Gani
(the Emir's brother). . . . ‘

Four days later they saw a houseboy of Muhamman
Gani, who was selling Kola to the soldiers of the
British. . . . He was pointed out by the British
by the Madawaki. Then he was called by Captain
Moloney, who asked him where was Muhamman Gani (a
description of the arrival of Muhamman Gani follows).121

The informant at this point described how the interpreter
for the British, the fellow named Audu Timtim, used his
position in order to influence the British. Like many

of the old men, this informant seemed to think that the
interpreter was a complete scoundrel, and even went so

far in a later interview to blame him for Captain Moloney's
murder at Keffi, which is a popular version of that incident.

Returning to the narrative of the British conquest

of Abuja, Muhamman Gani was appointed Emir by the British
arbitrarily on the basis of questions put to him through
Audu Timtim. This was on a Friday, exactly two weeks after
the British arrival outside the walls. A week later,
demanding to be taken to Abuchi, where they had learned of

121Field Notes, Abuja, Muhamman Gani, Makama
Babba, June, 1966.

3v)

218

Ibrahim Iyalai's presence, the British found him in a
house early in the morning, and he was informed that
"strange people had come to see him." He emerged,
"prepared to fight (he had a six-shot revolver) and there
he fought alone against the British with his gun. The
people (of Abuchi) ran into the bush, and he was shot
by the soldiers”?2
The old Emir's body was taken on a bier to Mohoney's
camp, who is said to have regretted the killing. The
subjugation of Abuja was complete, the last symbol of
resistance having been eliminated.
The overwhelming impression given by the accounts
of the struggle, brief and simple though it was, is that
the British decided (this was probably a result of
Moloney's decision to make an example of Abuja and use
force to bring the Emirate to heel) not to negotiate under
any circumstances, but rather to depose or kill the Emir,
Ibrahim Iyalai, setting up their own choice as Sarki
(after consultation with local leaders in order to fulfill

122
Ibid., p0 3'

219

their obligation to Lugard's principle of using "native
rulers"). In this way, they could present the other
rulers of Northern Nigeria, with an object lesson that
opposition was futile, and that no quarter would be given
if peace were not maintained. It is obvious in the case
of Abuja, that Moloney had no intention of treating

with Ibrahim Iyalai, but fully intended to force him to
abdicate or fight.

Considering the will of the Emir and his immediate
followers, this was probably a necessary British decision.
All indications are that Abuja under Ibrahim would have
continued on its course of raiding and plunder. However,
in all fairness, it must be noted that when the British
finally arrived before the walls of Abuja, the majority of
the pepulation did not elect to retreat and flee with the
Emir, but quickly abandoned him and went over to the
British side. This indicates that Ibrahim Iyalai, with
his constant support of slave-raiding and brigandage had
not retained the support of the essential elements of his
own city's population. It may also indicate that the

British propaganda, spread carefully in previous years,

2.

CIA

.41!

220

that they would rule through traditional rulers, was
successful in undermining the Emir's following. It is
significant in the case of Abuja, that once negotiations
with the Madawaki were begun (even though he had been
arrested in summary fashion, and while in effect, under a
flag of truce as an envoy of Abuja), the overwhelming
majority of the pOpulation deserted the Emir.
Thus the British began their "rule" in Abuja from
a position of strength, after an easy victory, placing a
candidate of their own choice (under the pretence of local
legitimacy, however absurd this was in reality) on the
throne of Abuja, with excuses in plenty for their use of
force. V
In his Annual Report for 1902, Lugard quoted_from

a report by one Mr. Wallace, in support of his decision
to use military measures to bring Abuja into the British
sphere of influence:

Again in the Nassarawa country (of which, incident-

ally Abuja was only a part), a once fertile and

populous province, one can now only view the re-

mains and ruins of large totally deserted towns,

bearing witness to the desolation wrought by 100

years of internecine strife and slave-raiding by
the Fulani.123

123K.N.A., Colonial Reports, "Annual Report for
1900-1901," p. 79.

221

In England this may have sounded convincing, but
it had almost no direct bearing on Abuja. In the same
report Lugard also cited the nurder of Mr. D. Carnegie
and the robbing and killing of the "native missionary
named Baki”12u with more accuracy in regard to the actual
situation. The statement by Mr. Wallace was only partly
applicable to Abuja, and, in fact, was patently false as
a generalization. For example, the Fulani had been suc-
cessfully kept out of Abuja throughout the century,
regardless of repeated attempts to gain a foothold there.

Not without serious difficulties was Lugard able
to establish a stable and efficient system in Nassarawa
Province, including Abuja. The area had given him trouble
from the first, and shortly after the subjugation of
Abuja, the newly established administration met a major
setback in the murder of the Resident, Captain Maloney, in
Keffi, on October 3, 1902. The official version of the
incident says that the representative of the Emir of Zaria

in Keffi, a man called the Magajin Keffi, or simply,

12“Ibid., No. “09.

222

Magaji, was one of the men of that time who profited
from the plunder and slaving common to that area of the
-North.

When the new Provincial Headquarters was estab-
lished at Keffi, and Abuja was successfully occupied, an
attempt was made by Moloney to come to an understanding
with the Magaji, apparently expecting that the example of
Abuja would be enough to gain submission. According to
the official version, the Magaji, fearing for his life (as
he well might have, considering the fate of Ibrahim Iyalai),
refused to come out to meet Moloney and the Assistant
Resident, Mr. G. W. Webster. When Webster went in to
fetch him, he was attacked by the Magaji's retainers and
just escaped with his life. When Moloney sent for troops
the Magaji seeing his imminent arrest, rushed out and in
the heat of the moment, killed Moloney with his sword.
Moloney was unarmed and had lost an arm in the Gold Coast.
The Magaji fled to the North, where he was sheltered by
the Emir of Zaria, the Emir of Kano, and even the Sultan
of Sokoto. All this precipitated events of great impor-
tance, including the British conquest of Kano, and the

campaign of 1903, which eventually reduced the Muslim North.

223

Margery Perham's account of this incident in her
vast biography of Lugard states simply that "the Magaji
killed him (Moloney) with his sword and fled to the
north."125 All reports that I have seen, including one
by an eyewitness (Moloney's military officer) indicate
that the Magaji was confronted with a "fait accompli"
by his warriors (exactly how Maloney was killed is still
not known for certain, but death seems to have resulted
from an arrow, nor is there proof who fired it), and had
no choice but to flee. Whatever the real causes fer the
murder, and whatever the actual course of events in Keffi,
it was clear to Lugard that severe measures were in order.
His own comments on the matter are revealing:

If the life of a European can be taken with impunity
the prestige of the Government would be gone, and

prestige is another word for self-preservation in a
country where millions are ruled by a few score.126

He then applied the cardinal principle of the Indian

Government: to declare war upon any state which has

125
Margery Perham, Lugard, the Years of Authority

1898-19u5 (London, 1960), p. 91.

126
Ibid., po 920

22H

shielded the murderer of a British officer, and pursued
the Magaji relentlessly to the "uttermost limits of the
Protectorate," to use his own words.127
Many of the early political officers did lead
lives of great risk and tension. Nicholson, the Assistant
Resident under Abadie at Zaria wrote of Moloney's death,
"It just shows what a policy of bluff it is out here. The
Fulani could have done the same in every station wher-
ever they liked."128
As one final note on the incident in Keffi, it
is agreed by all accounts that Moloney's interpreter,
Audu Timtim either mistranslated the message from
Maloney to the Magaji, thus precipitating the nurder, or
he deliberately led Webster into the private apartments of
the Palace (perhaps the harem), where he was bound to be
attacked as a trespasser- This scoundrel (who is remembered

in Abuja as a lackey and traitor) was also responsible in

part at least, for the taking of Abuja by force and the

1271bid., p. 92.

128
Ibid., p. 99.

bur

225

death of Ibrahim Iyalai. He was killed along with Moloney,
a victim of his own duplicity. The really interesting thing
about the affair, is that a man of Moloney's ability,

would have used such an untrustworthy character as a

primary source of information, even though, unlike most of
the later officers, he Spoke no Hausa.

This leads us to another consideration. That is,
the characters and skills of the various political officers
under Lugard's tutelage in Northern Nigeria. Many of them
were military men who had served under Lugard in his color-
ful career elsewhere in Africa. About this Lugard himself
wrote:

Objection has in some quarters been taken to the
appointment of military officers as civil resi-
dents. Failing the supply of men with African
administrative experience I have found the selected
army officers are an admirable class of men for the
work. They are gentlemen; their-training teaches
them prompt decision. . . . Officers, most especially
those who have served in India have done some excel-
lent work in Northern Nigeria. . . . Indeed it is a
characteristic of the British officer that when in
civil employ his rule is often marked by less

"militarism" than that of the civilian, and he
is more Opposed to punitive operations.129

. 129K.N.A., Colonial Reports, No. 346, "Annual
Report for 1900-1901," p. 26.

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This is generally true, of course, and Lugard was notor-
iously skilled at justifying his appointments. That is
probably partly because he was so good at selecting his
subordinates. But, it is also true, as Mr. Mahood, in

her book Joyce Cary's Africa, has pointed out, that the

 

type of Victorian "gentleman" most likely to fill such
posts in those days, was rather narrow in his views,
inclined to ethnocentric value judgments, and more noted
for skill at polo than for ability to deal with an alien
and non-EurOpean culture. For all his sagacity, Lugard
himself exhibited many of these traits. He constantly
made reference to "the finer negro races" as opposed to
the "forest type Negro,"13O making generalizations about
the superior physical strength of the "Negro" over the
"Hamitic" type, and other prejudices common to the age.
In his book, The Dual Mandate in British TrOpical Africa,
Lugard attempted to examine the racial types and their
characteristics, and he ended up sounding rather absurdly

in tune with the most common stereotypes:

1 O
3 Lord Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British

TrOpical Africa (Hamden, Conn., 1965), p. 68.

 

227

. . . the typical African of this race-type
[meaning the "pure" negro] is a happy, thriftless,

excitable person, lacking in self-control, disci—
pline, and foresight, naturally courageous, and
naturally courteous and polite, full of personal
vanity, with little sense of veracity, fond of music,
and "loving weapons as an oriental loves jewelry."13l
He even refers to the African's "insensibility to pain,"

another typical belief among Europeans, and talks knowledge-
ably about the African's "love for display of power." He
ends his little lesson in anthropology with the comment

that,

In brief, the virtues and the defects of this
race-type are those of attractive children,
whose confidence when once it has been won is
given ungrudgingly as to an older and wiser 2
superior, without question and without envy.13
Though it must be remembered that Lugard was shaped
by the prevailing ideas of his time, and cannot fairly be
chastised by the modern scholar for such views, it is obvious
that any system of government run by men who generally held

such absurd opinions, must have been grandly capable of

underestimating the Africans under their guidance, and at

131Ibid., p. 69.

132Ibid., p. 70.

228

the same timapof gross misreading of local events. I
shall have occasion later in this study to refer to a
political officer's written opinion of an Emir which
illuminates this problem considerably.

Anthropology in those days was in its moment of
birth, and careful study of ”tribal" customs and ethnic
traits was almost unknown. The typical British officer,
Lugard included, who travelled widely in the countryside,
who had daily contacts with Africans, rarely had anything
like a genuine "friendship" with an African, let alone any
intimate personal contact. All too often the relationship
between the two groups was one of master and servant, and
the phenomenon of the "self-fulfilling prophecy" was often
the result. (It is not within the scope of this study to
examine the racial problem, then or now, but it is perhaps
worth comment that the above stereotypes still prevail
among most "expatriates“ in West Africa, and that Lugard's
view is still common, though it is less often voiced.)

Such blinding racial prejudice aside, most of the

men who served under Lugard were exceedingly able. The

\.;

229

documents abound with evidence of their shrewd insight
into local politics (a thing the British seem to do very
well, to indulge in a prejudice of my own). Some of their
reports, such as Lugard's letters to London, show more
literary skill than perception, but there was a premium

on that sort of thing around the turn of the century.

The turn of a phrase or the subtle witticism were more
likely than not good reason for promotion. The Nigerian
service produced a large crop of good writers, including
of course, Joyce Cary. To men who had been raised in the
English Public School system, and who had been drilled
into the proper use of English, fggm_was as important as
content. The stories of Lugard sending detailed criticisms
about the official form required for all reports to his
office are not exaggerated. Nearly every such report I
saw the Kaduna Archieves had Lugard's own notations in the
margin, usually on matters of procedure.and form, and
rarely questioning the veracity or intelligence of the

writer's judgment.133

133K.N.A., Minprof 2/3, File No. 3307/1919.

Assessment Report, 8 July, l91h.

230

But, the political officers were also care-
fully selected in the early years at least, for strong
personal character and for strict morality. A few were
scholars in their own right. Men like Orr and Temple were
attracted to the Colonial Service either by a taste for
adventure, a high regard for Lugard himsef, or a desire to
learn and act. Some of them produced their own very
erudite and learned testimonies.13“

The Administrative Officers and
the Pattern of Government

 

The concept under which Lugard governed Northern
Nigeria required that all the EurOpean political officers
were to act officially as technical advisers and helpers
of the tribal authorities. The purpose was to maintain
each Emir or Paramount Chief, assisted by his judicial
Council (if none existed it was created), as an effective
ruler over his people. He was supposed to preside over a
"Native Administration" which functioned as a unit in
local government, with the area under his jurisdiction
divided into Districts under the various headmen. These

l3“Robert Heussler, Yesterday‘s Rulers (Syracuse,
1963). pp. 1-27.

 

231

Headmen were to collect taxes in the ruler's name and pay
them into a "Native Treasury," run by a native treasurer
and staff under the supervision of the ruler. Over all
this presided a Resident, one for each Province, who,
"acts as sympathetic advisor and counsellor to the native
Chief, being careful not to interfere so as to lower his
prestige. . . ."135 In an emirate like Abuja, which was a
"Division" in Nassarawa Province in these early years, the
presiding officer (whose job was exactly like that of the
Resident, though on a lesser level) was either an Assistant
Resident (as was Mr. G. W. Webster) or a District Officer.
Such a "Division" included several headmen's districts,

in Abuja's case and the entire Emirate.

As can be readily seen in practice, this system
was a clever subterfuge. It worked well enough that on
the surface it looked highly efficient. The political
officer's advice (whatever his rank) on matters of policy
was required of the local ruler, though the ruler passed

his own orders down through his subordinates and district

135Lugard, The Dual Mandate, pp. 200-201.

 

)

‘.I
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232

heads as if they were his own. The tax (which was formerly
tribute) was the basis of the system, since it supplied
the means of income for the Emir and all his officials,
(and because it paid the way of the local governmental

unit in the colonial administration). Because of this the
process of assessment for taxation was of great importance.
Reading the archives for the first decade, one gets the
distinct (though inaccurate) impression that all the D.O.'s
(and occasionally even the Assistant Residents) did was

to trek about on assessments in remote parts of far-off
provinces.

In this way the British officers, according to their
wishes and personal diplomacy, cOuld rule almost as dicta-
tors in their areas of authority. All the while the peOple
were bemused into thinking that the Emirs or Chiefs held
their old power (at least the pretense was held up, for in
reality the system helped preserve the traditional forms
from.destruction). If the officers exercised their power
only as far as Lugard officially advised, they were in

truth "advisers," though their influence was far greater

 

than that of any traditional political figure, including

a.

233

the Emir himself. In an established, hierarchical king-
dom like Abuja, the British could easily institute admini-
strative reform through this system, though they found it
almost impossible to change the structure of local govern-
ment in its form and ritual. These latter were so fixed
in custom beyond memory, that even the overt destruction
of an ancient form by law was unsuccessful more often than
not. The Fulani had learned this in other Emirates such
as Zaria and Kano. The British repeated the experience.
Later in this study we shall have occasion to investigate
some specific cases which illustrate this seeming paradox.
Here we must look instead at the first actions of the
British in Abuja, to see how the system was, or was not,
carried out.

The murder of Moloney and its aftermath, delayed
the effective establishment of the colonial administra-
tion in Abuja, and it was not until 190u that regular
reports from Abuja were filed at Zunguru. In that year
Weber wrote that:

Abuja is running smoothly at present, but Lt. Renny

. . . writes that there are a large number of ques-
tions which require the presence of a political

23H

officer and that during the short time since Mr.

Migeod left to undertake the canoe registration he

has had a number of cases brought to him which he

cannot deal with.136
This indicates that Abuja was still largely left to it-
self at this late date. Mr. Migeod was an accomplished
linguist, who later wrote a book on the Mende language,
as well as one on Hausa. Indirect Rule was in this case
yery_indirect, by necessity. The shortage of officers,
and the pressing problems of the colonial government else-
where (Kano and Sokoto had just been subdued in battle)
left a great deal of the old powers of the Emir intact
by default. It was not, however, in Huhamman Gani's char-
acter to rule_firmly or administer his government effec-
tively, and during these first years, Abuja was thus plagued
with something very like anarchy.137 Lugard's comment on the

early reports from Abuja were limited mostly to complaints

about the poor results from the tax.138 Like most

136K.N.A., SNP 7/5 Acc. No. 1A6A, Nassarawa Province
Report for September 190M, p. 7.

 

 

137Field Notes, Abuja, Makama Babba, 1966.

138K.N.A., SNP 7/5 Acc. No. lh6B, 1904, p. 10.

.1

235

administrators, he was often preoccupied with matters of
finance.

In terms of material change, the most obvious thing
that happened to Abuja in these years was the establish-
ment in 1904 of a government garrison on a hill above
Abuja. This was pressed by Lugard (who always felt safer

with forts in key locations-~soldier that he was).

According to local testimony (which in these matters
is ramarkably accurate; most accounts coming from a variety
of still-living witnesses, checking out against each other
with surprising similarity), no changes in the local struc-
ture of Abuja's government were instituted before 1903.
Then, as the power of the British began to make itself felt
in matters other than peace and war, change was fairly
rapid in some areas of the Emir's government. The actual
process of transformation will be documented in Chapter
VIII, but it must be noted here that the first serious
change was the creation of the Beit-el-Mal, or the
"Native Treasury." As we have seen, Abuja did not have a
highly organized and institutionalized treasury or an

accompanying system of regular tribute. The haphazard

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traditional system had to be reformed quickly, and the
precedent used was to import the system of the Fulani
Emirates to the North. The Ma'aji had never kept records,
and records were an absolute necessity for Lugard and his
new administration. Thus the machinery was set up accord-
ing to which regular assessments could be made and a

local treasury filled with the proceeds of taxation. It
is significant that this was the first task of the British
immediately after "pacification." Each new unit had to be
made to pay as soon as possible. {To Lugard, who hadto
justify colonial rule to his superiors in Whitehall as a
self-sufficient proposition (at least in respect to admini-
strative expense), nothing could have more priority. It
is accordingly remembered in Abuja that the British first
concerned themselves with matters of money. The strict
way in which the fine imposed of Abuja in 1902 was col-
lected, was an object lesson in itself, and the experience
was not lost on the local population.139 Of course, no

one was surprised at this. It is probably just what any

1
39K.N.A., SNP 15/1, Acc. No. 53, Nassarawa Report

for May 1903, R. Granville, Sec. 8.

237

conquered peOple would have expected. To the people of
Abuja this was just a highly organized and exceedingly
efficient system of foreign extortion. No one complained.
Abuja, after all, had been defeated in battle and the
British were fair and preferred to encourage prosperity.
It must have been a pleasant surprise to the rulers of
Abuja to discover, for example, that they could keep
one-half of their local revenue under the new taxation
system for their own administration.1”° The British
officers spent most of their time running around making
tax assessments, and they concerned themselves little with
the government in Abuja, so the Emir and his hordes of
officials were able to carry on much as before.

The only serious hardship this reform presented
to the traditional rulers of Abuja, was that it abolished
ht old system of collecting tribute in slaves. As in many
other parts of West Africa (including Mendeland) those
who benefitted most from the old system were a mere handful.

They were quick to learn the value of the new system if it

l“oLugard, Dual Mandate, p. 201.

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238

were efficiently carried out with their overt help. This
explains why the early officers encountered so little re-
sistance taking assessments in the rural areas, once the
Emirs and the other local officials realized that they too
would benefit from the collection. As for the local people
(such as the Gwari), it was not so easy. They had always
resisted collection of tribute (especially when it was in
the form of slaves) and were not inclined to aid in the
process of assessment. But they were quick to learn, and
soon realized that the benefits derived from cooperation
were greater than any minor advantages to be gained from
their old policy of hiding in the hills.1“1

The system of assessment and collection was rather
primitive until 1906, when a new Proclamation superceding
the Land Revenue Ordinance of 190“ was instituted}!42 This
vastly improved the original native organization and col-

lection which had been used in modified form from 190A.

1ln'K.N.A., Minprof 718, File No. 23H7/1913, Annual
Report on D. H. Saliku Diko Dist., Abuja Division, by
Assistant Resident Morgan, 25 September, 1913, p. 7.

1“Margery Perham, Native Administration in Nigeria
(London, 1937). P. 52.

 

‘2‘.

0‘4

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239

The basis of assessment was the annual value of the lands
and produce, of profits from the commerce and manufactures,
of flocks and herds (in most cases, as in Abuja, mostly
Fulani), and of the other existing sources of revenue.1u3,
This was known as the lump-sum assessment, and it was the
pride of the political officers. Since the system provided
that complaints could be made to the Political Officer
while he made his assessments, there was a strong check
against the powerful using this system as a means of ex-
tortion. Many of the reports from D.O.'s in these years
indicate that the.right to complain was exercised quite
often, at least as soon as the pagan peoples learned that
they could get away with it. It was certainly an improve-
ment on the older system (called the "capitation-tax)
which did not work very well in the border Emirates like
‘Abuja, where the British tried to set up a systen.almost
without local precedent (Abuja had never had an organized
treasury, nor had it used a systematic taxation system).
Reading the reports, one realizes that assessment

by the new system after 1906 was indeed a formidable task.

1“31mm, p. 52.

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As Margery Perham puts it:
In the course of two or three years they (the
political officers) visited and reported upon
almost every town and village except those of
the pagans in the hills or outlying regions.
Assessment reports soon became something more
than their name implied. They took on the
character of general investigations which
went far beyond questions of taxability into those
of history and ethnology, and gaven an opportunity
to young officers to show their ability and their
understanding of the people.1““
Above all, the system forced the political officers into
intimate contact with the people under their jurisdiction,
where they could become well-known as protectors and
friends of the local peOple, rather than just burdensome

tax-collectors.

’This efficient system temporarily reduced the
prestige of the Emir himself, of course. When the common
peasants began to take complaints of all sorts directly to
the nearest British officer and to ignore their own tradi-
tional rulers, the very system of Indirect Rule was under-

mined.“5

1”Ibid., p. 54.

lu5Capt. C. W._J. Orr, R.A., The Making of Northern
Nigeria (London, 1911), p. 222.

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A conflict arose between the defined political
functions of the Resident and his officers (i.e., to rule
through the native Chiefs) and their obvious committment
to a great variety of administrative tasks. An officer
who did his job well, could not help but lessen the prestige
of the particular traditional ruler or Chief under his
guidance. In Chapter VIII the effects of this shall be
discussed in detail. Here it is sufficient to note that
most political officers (like Webster and Granville in
Nassarawa, and their assistants, Migeod and Matthews)
were overwhelmingly powerful in the first half-dozen years
of British rule in Abuja. It did not, however, destroy
local institutions.

In matters of justice the effect of British rule
in Abuja was of less importance. Abuja, of course, did
not have an institutionalized judicial system based on the
Alkali's Court, as in Zaria, and the large Fulani Emirates
to the north. Lugard had ordained that each Resident was
to be Judge of a Provincial Court with jurisdiction over
Governmental employees and natives not under the jurisdic-

tion of local Native Courts. He also dealt with cases of

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2&2

slavery and serious criminal offense-~witchcraft and the
like. His court was a recipient of appeals, which could
even go onto the High Commissioner himself, or to the
Supreme Court of the Protectorate.1u6 In most of the
Muslim areas the traditional.court was run by local
judges called Alkalai, men of Koranic learning, of general
impartiality, who possessed as much authority in the law
as did Islam itself. In Abuja the British, not finding an
Alkali's Court, established one on the model of Zaria.
Since Koranic law was well established in Abuja, and
serious offenders had always been tried in the town
according to Islamic law, this only represented a change
in form, and it had relatively minor effect on the func—
tioning of the traditional Habe administration.1H7

In a memo from Abuja in 1907, the local D.C.,
Mr. J. W. Gill wrote a recommendation that Abuja should

have a.Native Court of the Alkali type. It was duly

l“Perham, Native Administration, pp. 54-55.

 

u
7Field Notes, Abuja, Limamin Juma'a, Audu Dasim,
1966.

 

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293

arranged by Bakeney the Resident, and Abuja got a Judicial
Council, consisting of the Sarki (Emir), Alkali and Salenki
and a grade D classification.1“8 This meant it did not
have capital power, but could deal with local criminal
and civil cases involving traditional procedure and legal
custom, pagan cases, boundary disputes and even political
offenses.

In short, the first five years of British rule in
Abuja accomplished two major reforms, only one of which
directly affected the traditional governmantal structure.
The very real power of the political officers, on the
other hand, vastly weakened the system, though effecting
no great outwardchanges. Political transformation, as
'far as it went in these first five years, was largely
(invisible and did not much affect form. This does not mean
it was not taking place however, and as we shall see in

Chapter VIII, profound changes were underway.

1&8
K.N.A., SNP 15/1, Acc. No. 151, Minute Paper,

Nassarawa Province Report, 18 August, 1907.

 

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CHAPTER VII

THE PROCESS OF TRANSFORMATION IN MENDELAND

1896-1914

Early British Policies

 

Fabunde, who succeeded Kailundu as Paramount
Chief of Luawa in 1895 was not (like his predecessor) a
man of forceful character. He had become Ndormahei
largely as a result of British influence, and this de-
tracted even more from his power.”9 His early years as
P.C. were entirely undistinguished, and he allowed the
British to guide his foreign policy for him (though
Luawa was a border chiefdom, where, indeed, the "Scramble
for Africa" has soon to divide the chiefdom right down
the middle).150 Though Fabunde had received military aid
from the British at the very end of the Mende Rising

against his enemies across the Moa and in Liberia, he was

1n9Field Notes, Luawa, Jombu Belu, January, 1966.

150N. c. Hollins, "A Short History of Luawa Chief-
dom," Sierra Leone Studies, No. XIV, June, 1929, p. 73.

 

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unable to contain his large and loosely organized chiefdom,
and gradually Wunde and Gbandi, Sub—chiefdoms on the ex-
treme northern and eastern borders, renounced all but nominal
fealty.151 No warrior himself, this easy-going Paramount
Chief appeared to be malleable enough, Just "legitimate"

and shrewd enough, to leave the British almost complete
freedom to carry on their reorganization of the Native
Administration after 1900. During this crucial period,

this first decade and a half of British rule in the Pro-
tectorate, Luawa lost its commanding position in the history
of Mendeland. It became Just another typical chiefdom in

a closely run district, a subsidiary responsibility for a
British District Commissioner who was stationed miles away,
and who ruled more by fiat than by advice. As Sierra
Leone's chronicler has put it: (many Chiefs like Fabunde,

controlled by local D.C.‘s, became little more than "tax-

gatherers masquerading as Chiefs."152 Superficially it

151Ibid., p. 23.

152
Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 606.

 

246

looked as if the much vaunted system of using the Chiefs to
administer the Protectorate was a pious sham.

It is probable that the British officials quite
honestly believed that the system of using the Chiefs as
agents in political change and economic development was
little more than an expedient. Many acted as if the only
way they could extend British authority into the individual
chiefdoms was by intervention and personal rule. Some,
like Alldridge at Sherbro, were men of shrewd understanding
and skilled diplomacy in dealing with the native authorities,
others were ignorant, brash, didactic, and in some cases
imperious. It was to be expected that a small Protectorate
such as Sierra Leone would not get the best men available
in the colonial service; local conditions only aggravated
the problem.

One case considered both unfortunate and atypical
by the authorities, was that of Captain Carr. Carr, who
had been involved directly in the suppression of the Mende
Rising, "grew slack" as Fyfe put it, and ultimately em-
barrassed nearly everyone involved in a rather farcical

investigation of his morals and methods. The "charges"

247

against him were stated in the Executive Council Chamber
as follows:
That Captain Carr while holding office of District
Commissioner of Panguma District, did to the great
scandal of the District and to the detriment of his
own influence as Chief officer of that District,
cohabit with certain black women, among others with
Tulea the daughter of a West Indian trader at Kassee
in the Bandajuma District, and with Hannah who formerly
cohabited with Sergeant MacCaulay of the Sierra Leone
Frontier Police Force.153
This rather absurd charge (then considered grave and
damning) appears to have been the result of a personal
vendetta against Carr (a rather imperious sort) by a man
named Mill, who had been reprimanded several times by Carr
for_drunkenness. The pages of testimony by Mill and another
officer named Huggins, indicate that Carr was obviously
"keeping" one or more women, "in a shanty behind his house,"
that he spent a good deal of time in the company of
"natives," that he was inclined to be abrupt and dogmatic
in his personal dealings, and that he rarely asked the

advice of his Junior officers.15u Most of these things

153P.R.0., 0.0. 79, December 5th 1900, p. 301.

lsulbid., p. 301.

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Carr was apparently Vguilty" of (though in more recent
times mixing with local people, would be considered good),
although the charges of cohabiting were vigorously denied
by Carr himself. Getting testimonies from other officers
and initiating a counter-charge against Mill, Carr even-
tually was reprimanded only, and found innocent of the

most serious charges (though it was accepted as fact that
he was guilty of "keeping a black woman"). The counter
charges against Mill by Carr, proved Mill to be a notorious
drunkard, envious, incompetent, and unfit for duty. He

was dismissed from the service.155 The waste in time and
energy, Just for paperwork alone on this case, was enormous.
That purely personal quarrels could so dominate the admini-
stration was symptomatic of the ineXperience, the dis-
organization and the inadequacy of the system as the turn
of the century. It was not until at least 190“ that the
re-establishment of the administration was complete enough

even to supervise adequate tax collection in the chiefdoms.

155
Ibid., p. 305.

2&9

Instead of concerning themselves with real problems
of reform, with the study of traditional customs,
assessments, and the hard desk work necessary to the
system (ruling through the Chiefs), one gets the im-
pression that there was a sordid pre-occupation among
the colonial officers with each other's private affairs.
Lonely service in isolated posts was obviously
a contributory factor, tut the laxity of the colonial
administration in guiding the D.C.‘s was the ultimate
cause for the inefficiency and waste. Unlike Northern
Nigeria under Lugard, there was no firm and clear-cut
policy to which these ill—prepared officers could turn.‘
Cardew drove his own staff, was unflinching and unsparing
of himself, and had an uncompromising personality. But
he did not successfully communicate his personal virtues

to his field officers. The restoration of his policy of

e
Lugard was acutely aware of the effect of con-

stant and even miniscule written reports and responses.
Nothing reassures an administrator more than detailed
instructions about all aspects of his task, and even
about matters of personal conduct.

.ue
..

250

"ruling through the Chiefs" in 1899, the re-opening of
the Chiefs' courts, the continuation of the old (and
potentially tyrannical) power of the D.C. to control
justice in his own court, the continued maintenance of
the Frontier Police: and the continuation of the hut-
tax; all these were proof that Cardew and his lieutenants
had learned little from thearebellion.156 When he was
replaced in 1900, Cardew had succeeded in discrediting
his opposition, had managed to re-instate almost unchanged
the old system, and had held off inevitable reform. It
was five years before a really effective system was
established. Significantly, Cardew did not get another
post.) As Fyfe puts it, "No post was vacant for a
Governor so dangerously endowed."157 A man of energy

and force, he had "relied too much on himself," and his
own ability had discouraged initiative and responsibility
in others.158 Cardew did not delegate enough authority

to others, nor did he willingly accept the advice or

156Fyfe, History of SierraALeone,pp. 609-606.
157Ibid., p. 605.

158Ibid., p. 606.

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criticism of others, and in the end his own hard work and
dedication were not enough. It might be accurately said,
that at the turn of the century, the situation in the Pro-
tectorate was scarcely improved over what it had been when
the British first negotiated the original treaties. The
set-back of the Hut-tax War and the resistance to reform,
combined to deprive the Native Administration of any real
chance for early success. In the myriad villages,
chiefdoms, and districts of the still largely unknown Pro-
tectorate, the traditional systems of government and trade,
of sporadic violence and corruption, and the abuses of the
"Frontiers" went largely unchecked and unchanged. But,
if the conscious policies were unsuccessful as yet, quiet
changes were in progress which were to have vast consequences.
We have said that all governmental changes are the
result of transformation in the means and distribution of
power within a system of government. The degree of
transformation that had taken place in Upper Mendeland by
1900 was dependent on the ability of the D.C. to enforce
his control over the Paramount Chiefs of his District. In

form, the traditional system was preserved, though the loss

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252

of the chiefly right to own and take slaves, to make war,
and their subordination to the "Frontiers" in matters of
wealth (in this case the power to extract tribute), had
undermined the Chiefs' position to an immeasureable de-
‘gree. It is likely, for example that Fabunde could not
have stemmed the erosion of the power and prestige of
Luawa Chiefdom after 1898, had he possessed the skill and
tenacity of Kallundu himself.
Unplanned Changes that Became
Institutionalized

Among the "unplanned changes" which first became
"institutionalized" in Mende government, one of the first
was abrogation of the Paramount Chief‘s power "to arrest
anyone for a good cause," "to sit in all court cases and
receive fines,” "to refuse settlement of undesirable
strangers," and several other of the traditional preroga-
tives and duties.“ These, along with several of his
traditional prerogatives or "rights," were simply removed

overnight by the British, some of them in the treaties of

'See Chapter III, pp. 96—99

253

1891, others through establishment of the official "Chiefs'
courts" and the Ordinances which gave certain Judicial
powers to the D.C.‘s.159 The reduction of the prerogatives
of the P.C.‘s after the Hut-tax war were also largely
"unplanned" changes, in that they were expedients arrived
at without prior investigation. There is little evidence
that the British officials responsible (though the advice
of knowledgeable men like Parks and Alldridge was avail-
able) ever bothered to check local custom in most of their
reforms. The effect was that changes were institutionalized
which were not specifically part of any "policy” followed
by the British (i.e., the privilege of the D.C. to decide
on how much would be required for tax, and who paid it).

In doing so, the colonial administrators were hardly aware
that they were undermining an already established system.
Unlike the administration in Northern Nigeria, where almost
every "reform" was the result of some research into local
traditions, the administration of Sierra Leone passed

Ordinances well into the twentieth century without careful

l
S9Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 5H3.

 

 

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254

investigation of traditional practice. Naturally enough,
many changes were thus effected without the British know-
ing what they had changed (in the least), or how to control
the process.

The commentaries by the informants support this in
considerable detail. In Dea Chiefdom, for example, it is a
significant part of most such commentary on the arrival of
British administration that the "cosibie" (constables, or
Frontier Police) effectively usurped the prerogatives of
the P.C. in almost every area concerning personal wealth.*
The most reliable informant felt that this was one of the
most serious reductions of the power of the Ndormahei.
Since no colonial officials "planned" this particular change,
it was not even recognized by statute, if it was known in
Freetown at all. With one of the old power sources of the
Mende P.C. usurped by the Frontiers, a major change in the
"distribution" of power was accomplished, and yet the

British had no knowledge or control over it at all.160

e
See Chapter III, p. 99.

160Field Notes, Dea, Senesi Kpakpaso, November,

1965.

255

It is hardly necessary hereto itemize the changes
in the prerogatives of the P.C. as regards such categories
as war, foreign affairs, and tribute and taxation. Almost
without exception the very act of establishing the Pro-
tectorate in 1898, destroyed what survived of these hard—
won and still fluid duties and functions. The local com—
mentaries in all three chiefdoms report that the P.C.‘s
were unable adequately to control their own ex-warriors as
a direct result of this, that they were no longer "respected"
as they had been, and that the young men "went to the
Frontiers when they wanted favors, because they were the
ones who could get wealth and force the farmers to work
for them."161 In some cases this "unplanned" change (which
was sometimes as much a result of lack of action by the
.British as it was of careless administrative procedure)

. went so far as to change the physical area under the
.Jurisdiction of a P.C. The case of Fabunde in Luawa,
cited above, is one example, though Luawa's location on

three international frontiers was also decisive.

161
Field Notes, Dea, Senesi Kpakpaso, 1966.

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256

In Dea Chiefdom the local commentaries record that
the traditional boundaries of the chiefdom (and of the sur-
rounding three chiefdoms) were arbitrarily delineated
without regard for local custom, which had preserved a
rather delicate balance of power between two kin groups of
almost equal size and strength.162 The effect of this can
hardly be exaggerated. Little's comment that, "quite a
novel situation was created in various local areas of
native administration," is a resounding understatement.163
In cases where the traditional relations between "ruling"
families was ignored, the territories involved were in-
evitably treated as if they were quite unrelated and
individual parts. The case in Dea Chiefdom is one example
and the case in Malema is even more obvious.

Malema as it existed after 1900 was largely a
British creation, yet on the surface it looked like one

of the most traditionally viable chiefdoms. Before

Alldridge visited the area, Malema was actually two quite

162Ibid., 1966.

l63Litt1e, The Mende. pp- 175-177-

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257

separate "sections" called Samig_and Malema. The former
was ruled in the last decades of the nineteenth century
by a warrior named Gevao, who had asked permission of
Pambu, Chief of Malema, to settle nearby and build a town
of his own, which he named Jojoima (now the capital of
Malema Chiefdom). Since Gevao was a descendant of a_
native of Malema town,16h he was related to the family

of Pambu, and the lineages of the two areas were inter-
mingled by marriage.‘

It is said that the reason that Gevao built the
new town on the river JoJoi (thus the name Jojoima) was
because the villages in this section repeatedly were being
attacked and taken by enemies (both Mende and Gola).

Gevao had assembled the elders and informed them that he
planned to stay in the section to defend it, and the people
of Malema agreed to this.165 Gevao lived in JoJoima until

'This is typical of such towns and their surround-
ing areas. It is an example of what Kenneth Little calls
"a community of kindreds." The Mende call it mgondawa ii hu.
It extended the larger family groups (kuwui) into the sur-
rounding countryside.

16"See Appendix c, III, a.

165Field Notes, Malema, P. C. Boakari Pambu, 1966.

258

the death of Pambu of Malema in 1908, when he was crowned
as P.C. of Malema Chiefdom by the British.

Here the traditional commentaries conflict in a
most interesting way. The story as told by members of the
Gevao lineage group (one of the two ”ruling houses" of
present-day Malema) says that Gevao never was recognized
as, nor claimed to be Ndormahei in the section called
Samie. _Instead, a man named erkpawa was Ndormahei (and
this agrees with the traditional commentaries in Malema
town where the Pambu family ruled). The Gevao family
tradition says that when the British arrived they called
erkpawa to make a treaty, but he sent a messenger called
Noivii in his place (Alldridge, "Bows," was the first to
visit this territory). At BandaJuma, Alldridge was
assured by this man that war would cease in Samie and
Malema, and Noivii was asked to "lick the paper."166 'Bowa"
himself later visited JoJoima himself, it is said, to
assure himself of the peace (this must have been in 1891,
on his way to see Kailundu), and he asked erkpawa to send

him a representative to sign a formal treaty at BandaJuma.

166Field Notes, Malema, Vandi Tarawallyo February,

1966.

-

\-

 

259

So erkpawa sent a man named Duow Nyeme (whose name does
indeed appear on the treaty),l67 who signed in the Chief's
stead. At this time, according to the Gevao family
commentaries, Pambu was a warrior under the Jurisdiction
of erkpawa (warriors were always the more powerful in
these years), and had been sent with Duow Nyeme to see
Alldridge, because he had defended the chiefdom in war.
Gevao, himself, then told erkpawa that unless he were
also sent as an envoy he would break away with JoJoima
and form an entirely separate chiefdom. So the Ndormahei
called an assembly (KutiJemei) and they met in Malema
town. erkpawa then testified that he had appointed Pambu
'as official envoy to the British at BandaJuma because
Moivii had fallen ill. Gevao then explained his case,

and the elders persuaded him that there was nothing wrong
with earth's appointment as an envoy (for which no tradi-

tional title existed) and that he (Gevao) could go on

167S.L.A., pg 1971/1891, 100 iu-8-91. In the N.A.
it was thought that any name on a treaty was necessarily a
"Chief," when this was often not at all true, as the above
tradition attests.

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260

another occasion. Then, when erkpawa was dying, he called
his followers and his brothers together and told them he
wanted to prevent a quarrel between Pambu of Malema and
Gevao of JoJoima which would be harmful to the chiefdom,
and thus advised Pambu to succeed him as Ndormahei, with
Gevao to follow Pambu. In this way the two ruling houses
were established.168 This version considers the territories
under erkpawa as one, and only recognizes Samei and
Malema as sections.. As the commentary is related, it also
seems to be an attempt to explain the two "ruling houses"
in traditional terms.

It is most instructive to compare these events as
recorded in the oral tradition of the Pambu family. The
story of the founding of Malema in these commentaries goes
back five generations from the informant (an old man him-
self with his own grandchildren).159 This account says
that Duow Nyeme gas the Ndormahei when he signed the

treaty with "Bowa" in 1891. It further records that he

168
Ibid., 1966.

?

169
See Appendix C, III, a.

 

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261

was succeeded by Sabba erkpawa, who was present at the

 

treaty signing. (His name does appear on the treaty.)170
This version appears to be most accurate since it checks
with the treaty, and because it also explains the connec-
tion of erkpawa with these events in a much more coherent
fashion. =According to this version, Pambu (who became
P.C. at the death of erkpawa) was a third generation
descendant of a man named Dafama, who originally founded

Malema.171

Pambu was the first Ndormahei to be "crowned"
by the.British (at BandaJuma in 1898). Indeed, the same
version relates that the warrior Gevao (who later succeeded
Pambu as P.C. in Malema) was related to the Pambu family
through his father's brother Tamie (who was a nephew to
Dara-a, founder of Malema); and equally important, P.C.

Pambu himself was descended directly from Tamie (he was

a grandson), thus making him a "cousin" to Gevao.172

10
7 S.L.A., 52 1971/1891, 100 1h-8-91.

171See Appendix C, III, a.

l 2
7 Ibid., N0. 1'.

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262

The story as told by the present P.C. Boakari
Pambu, substantially agrees with the Gevao family version
in saying that Samei section was invaded by enemies and
that Gevao had settled there with the leave of Pambu of
Malema, and built JoJoima. Since Pambu and Gevao were
I'brothers" it was decided at the assembly of all the
elders (kutijemei) that it was not fitting to divide into
two separate chiefdoms, and the people were happy that
this compromise prevented division. Pambu was unanimously
chosen as Ndormahei and was the first of the present
recognized"line” represented by P. C. Boakari Pambu (his
son and the present P.C.). Later, after the British had
ruled for some time, Pambu went to Bandajuma and the
D.C. (Page) and asked him to explain his arrangements for
the succession after his death. He had appointed Gevao
(on the assembly's recommendation) as his successor, so
when Pambu died in 1908, Vama Gevao was crowned P.C.,
thus founding the other alternative ruling house of Malema
Chiefdom. Jojoima is said to have become the "Chief town"
in Malema Chiefdom because the government held that the

distance from Daru to Jojoima was shorter than that to

“

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263

Malema town, and since the government made such decisions
final, the peOple agreed.173 Convenience became more
important then--after the British had consolidated their
power--than the traditional qualifications of a location,
the product of its history and kinship structure of its
inhabitants.

It is significant that the British, in their
desire to establish a system of legitimate succession (they
were often preoccupied with this), simply created these
"ruling houses." The commentaries do not reveal any I
"principle" of succession based on descent from a “royal"
lineage (see Chapter III above), however intimately the
important kin~groups were related. A man did not become a
Ndonmahei simply because his father or grandfather had been,
yet after 1900 this.was drastically changed. In Malema
(as well- as in Deaand Luawa) the” "legitimacy" of the)
"ruling houses" dates from the solid establishment of British
rule in the hinterland. That these "houses" were based on

the old kin-groups does not mean that they were functional

173 ‘
Field Notes, Malema, P.C. B. Pambu, 1966.

26k

in the political structure that prevailed prior to the
British arrival. Nearly everyone in Malema town, for
example, was "related" to everyone else, by marriage if
notby birth, and the story of Gevao and his founding of
JoJoima, and the establishment of another "section" called
Samei is a good example of this.

Whether erkpawa was considered as Ndormahei over
both sections, or whether the two sections were operating
as quite separate "chiefdoms” is almost impossible to
determine. What is clear is that Gevao was the real
”Chief" in Samie section when the British arrived, and
that Pambu was the "Chief” in Malema section. erkpawa,
like Duow Nyeme, was certainly a representative of the
patrilineal prestige of the "clan" and as its "head" he
assured the Operation of the true kinship principle, a
principle that had become less important politically in
the late nineteenth century. He was Ndormahei, but he
obviously had little power.

Gevao and Pambu were both warriors, significantly,
and were not directly related to erkpawa (he does not

appear as a member of either lineage), though they were

265

all members of the same "clan." This is an example of

the patrilineal sanctions of the head of a clan giving

way to the protective advantage (as in the case of

Gevao's founding of Jojoima) of stronger units under the
leadership of warrior-chiefs. The crowning of Pambu as
P.C. and then of his cousin Gevao as his successor is a
perfect example of how the British "froze" the social order
and in effect transformed the political structure.17"

In this case British intervention into the system of
choosing "Chiefs" acted as a catalyst which effectively
established the descendents of the new breed of warriors

as founders and members of "ruling houses," thus actually
finishing what Kailundu and others like him (Ndawa, Nyagua,
Gevao and Pambu for example) had started. It is my con-
tention, that this was not done wittingly by the British.
It is an example of an “unplanned change which became

institutionalized."175

17“
See Chapter III, p.

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266

The testimony of the late P.C. Bai Comber of
Mando Chiefdom (and son of the warrior-chief Kabba Sei),
as presented in Little's book, The Mende of Sierra Leone,
is another illustration of the circumstances which accom-
panied the British consolidation.l76 The decline of,
Mando paralleled the decline of Luawa, for the recogni-
tion of Dea as a separate chiefdom, which divided Mando
into two parts,'was a typical example of how British
intervention and reconstruction, "gave rise to rivalries
and opportunities for revenge."177 Since as P.C. Bai Comber
put it, ”In the days of the tribal wars, blocks of chief-
doms came together for mutual protection against aggression,"178
British intervention promoted a rediffusion of power and in-
fluence, and the British were deliberately misled. Indi-
viduals who wanted to take advantage of the new distribution
of power were often able to make use of the colonial author—

ities. The example cited by Chief Bai Comber is worth

l76L1tt1e, The Mende, p. 178.

177Ibid., p. 178.

1731b1d., p. 178.

 

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267

quoting, since it bears direct relation to our study of
both Dea and Malema:
The recognition of Dia as a separate chiefdom divided
the Mando chiefdom into two unequal parts--Bomaru
on the eastern, and the remainder of the Manda chief-
dom on the western side. The end of the Mando-Upper
Banbara amalgamation, a few years after the House
Tax War, also gave Chief Kutubu of Upper Banbara a
chance to become Paramount Chief, and he successfully
persuaded old Gbagba of Bomaru to back him. Kabba
Sei was getting old and feeble and was unable to check
these developments. In this way Mando chiefdom
declined.179 ‘ :

What the British did in these cases was to
introduce new divisive factors into the old system, by means
of unplanned but decisive changes in the local political
hierarchies. The principle of political authority, as we
have seen, was based on military conquest and supremacy,
as well as on land ownership and membership in certain
descent groups which claimed quasi-hereditary rights as
the leading officials and title holders. —Because of
deliberate misrepresentation by interpreters (a familiar
story) or simple ignorance of traditional practices, the

British introduced new considerations of status and power,

179
Ibid., p. 178.

268

as well as authority, into the system. The fact that the
three most important warrior-chiefs of Upper Mende;
Kailundu Nyagua and Kabbe Dei, never came into conflict
with each other and always settled their disputes through
negotiation is an example of the political balance that
existed in Upper Mende in the late nineteenth century.
Though the British brought their own peace, more effective
than that of the Mende Chiefs, they totally.destroyed the
"block" of powerful chiefdoms dominated by Kailundu, Nyagua
and Kabba Sei for mutual protection (and it might be added,
the benefit of peaceful commerce). This gave rise to
opportunity for ambitious individuals with almost any claim
to office (even the ability to produce results in tax col-
lection alone was enough to get recognition as a Paramount
Chief in some cases), because along with the military
supremacy and extensive land holdings of the great Chiefs
such as Kailundu,went political prestige, authority in

the councils and the power to make decisions which were
binding on subordinates. If Kailundu had been alive when
Kabbei Sei was briefly deposed in 1898, it is likely, says

Bai Comber, that the misrepresentation to the British that

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269

resulted in his exile (and ultimately, the division of
his chiefdom) would have been challenged successfully.180
Whether'this is true or not is speculation, but it is

still a case in point. The distribution of power has

 

already shifted so drastically with the consolidation
of British rule, that the real power base of men like
Kabba Sei had been eroded and a new one was rising in
its place.= After 1900 it rested more on what services
a.man could perform for the British than it did upon
traditional values.

To lesser, but locally powerful Chiefs, like
Pambu and Gevao, the transformation was equally decisive.
They benefited from it, and welcomed British recognition
of their rather tenuous (as in all traditional Mende
political hierarchies) "hereditary" claims to Chiefly
succession. If this undermined even further the old .
power structure of the evolving political system (as
exemplified by Luawa under Kailundu), it only bolstered
the prestige and authority of these lesser Chiefs. They

were raised overnight to equivalency with men like

l80110101., p. 179.

270

Kailundu or Kabba Sei,‘ and thus a local ruler "who had
been paying fealty to his neighbour, now ranked equally,
in British eyes at least, with his former overlord."181

Planned Changes that Became
Institutionalized

 

 

0f the reforms which the British deliberately planned
as part of their policy of "ruling through the Chiefs," the
most important and perhaps most immediately obvious, was the
denial of the right of the Chiefs to lead and organize war.
This was absolutely necessary of course, and was always the
first prerogative that the British insisted on for them-
selves. Since it was one of the Mende Paramount Chiefs'
major sources of power and wealth, a new method of supporting

the P.C. had to be devised. The expedient method was to

*Though most of them had shared the title of
.Ndormahei, the title had been less a symbol of power, than
of status within the smaller units representing the old kin-
groups of the chiefdoms concerned—~for example, Bundu of
Luawa, prior to Kailundu's being awarded the title for his
military service .

181 '
Ibid., p. 177.

271

allow the Chiefs a commission on tax-collection, which
provided them with ample income (and a means for extor-
tion), as well as a motive for ambitious lesser men to
usurp power. The subsidiary prerogatives of this right

to lead and organize war, i.e., the capture of slaves, had
been abolished, too. But the police function, equally
important, was maintained in name, if not in fact.

Between the establishment of the Protectorate and 1901,
the "Frontiers" exercised this right almost exclusively,
and the Chiefs rarely were able to enforce the peace in
their territories without asking the "Frontiers" for help.
But, when the West African military police forces were
amalgamated in 1901 and the Frontier Police became a
branch of the West African Frontier Force, the new Governor,
.King-Harman, removed the police duties of the ”Frontiers"
and put them into barracks like all soldiers.182 In their
stead King-Harman increased the "court messengers" (who
[already had functioned in some chiefdoms, being mostly

,fornmr'"war-boys" who remained loyal to their Chiefs) to

182Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 606.

272

a total of 100. In an Ordinance of 1907 these messengers,
whose primary duty was to police their respective chief-
doms under the orders of the P.C., were constituted into a
formal Court Messengers' Force.183

The process of change here was from total loss
of the P.C.‘s policing power in his chiefdom, to renewal
of that power by British Ordinance. The local authorities,
and local tradition had nothing to do with it, "outsiders"
deciding the issue purely on an arbitrary basis. In Sierra
Leone this was more easily done than in Northern Nigeria,
for the resistance was bound to be less organized (even-
though the British lost more men "pacifying" the Protec-
torate in Sierra Leone than they did in Hausaland). The
fact that the system of policing used by Mende Chiefs
prior to the British was not "institutionalized" was easily
interpreted by the British as proof of a total absence of
policing on the chiefdom level. They simply created a new
system, on the false assumption that no traditional system

183
Ibid., p. 606.

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273

existed.‘ The "Frontiers" performed that function from
1896 (officially) until 1901, and the devastating and
bloody effect of their abuse of this misplaced prerogative
has already been documented in our discussion of the Hut-
Tax War. (Abuja, which, like the other Emirates of
Northern Nigeria, was fortunate in being "colonialized" a
little later, also had an ”institutionalized" system of
local police which was quickly recognized by the British.
The process there was less drastic, and as we shall see in
the next chapter, much more subtle.)

Now let us look at some of the planned changes
introduced by the British which resulted in the creation
of new offices.

The British outwardly accepted the structure of
Mende government as it was when they declared the Protec-
torate. They fixed the traditional system into the legal
framework of the administration, and wherever necessary,
formulated new offices to carry out what they considered
to be important tasks.

'This is one example of many in which the colonial
rulers understandable ignorance of local traditions and
(history made it almost inevitable that they would undermine
.and.destroy viable local systems of social control, as well

as other traditional practices which were not at all
"barbaric."

 

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The Chiefdom Speaker, or Ndolavali, they formally
recognized as the official assistant (in administrative
duties as well as in his role as the "mouthpiece") of the
P.C. He was therefore given specific duties (which varied,
in the first decades of this century, according to the
wishes of the local D.C.) in the chiefdom administration.
For example, in Luawa and in Dea, the Ndolavali presided
over the Chief's court in his absence (a function he had
not performed before 1898), and directed tax-collection in
those sections of the chiefdom which the P.C. himself could
not cover. Often, therefore, the Chiefdom Speaker became
a powerful and wealthy man, next only to the Ndormahei
himself. It is significant that Fabunde, who succeeded
Kailundu in Luawa, was Ndolavali until Kailundu's death.
in 1895, and even at that early date, the British saw him
‘as the most likely successor (confusing the appearances,
‘the trappings of power, for the real thing), and set a
JPrecedent which was alien to traditional Mende practice.
As has been repeatedly emphasized in this study, the
primary claim to the office of Ndormahei was military

power, wealth (especially in land and its produce), and

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275

the ability to keep the peace internally. Fabunde, as

we have noted, possessed few of these, yet he became

P.C. because the British misunderstood his traditional
role. If he ever achieved any degree of "legitimacy," it
was because he had been so personally close to Kailundu,
who was a legendary figure even before he died. Of
course, Fabunde possessed the necessary prerequisite of
belonging to a local kin-group,-but hardly a single man
in Upper-Mende did not, unless he were a slave taken in
war.18“

The title of Patimahei was entirely a British
creation. Because most powerful Chiefs who possessed the
title of Ndormahei (like Kailundu, or Kabba Sei) had other
Chiefs (like Duow Nyeme or Gevao) who acknowledged their
suzereignty over them in times of war,,the British, desir-
ing neat classifications, fixed these lesser Chiefs (some
of whom already possessed the title of Ndormaheio-but this
was either ignored or simply not known) in a legal position

of subordination to the newly "crowned" Paramount Chiefs

lBuField Notes, Dea, P.C. Jibao Gaima, 1966.

276

like Fabunde and Pambu.* Once this new title (sometimes
reducing ex-Ndormahei's to the level of section Chiefs)

was formally established, the duties of the office became
something like those of the P.C. That is, the Patimahei
was to maintain law and order in his section (short of the
use of capital punishment), to carry out the policies of
the P.C., to aid in the selection of village headmen, to
supervise any new projects in the section, to assist in
collection of the tax and other revenues, to be a member
of the new chiefdom council, and sit in the chiefdom court.
He also (unofficially) assisted with the supervision of the
secret societies.185 This new officer (the name was taken
of course from the already existing vocabulary of govern-
mental procedure and office, and means, quite literally,
"Chief of a section"), acted primarily as a means of
freezing lesser Chiefs (however valid their claim to
political independence in their own areas), below those

UEH1 whom the British wished to recognize as Paramount Chiefs.

*
See Chapter III.

185Field Notes, Dea, P. C. Gaino, 1966-

277

It also served as a means of increasing the efficiency

of the already existing system.of chiefdom administra-

tion, which was in a rapid state of flux when the British
arriVed.. Whether or not the powerful Chiefs like Nyagua
and Kailundu would eventually have done this themselves,

or whether such a subordinate office would eventually have
evolved between the level of Ndormahei and the Tamahei (Town
Chief), is impossible to know. It is certain, however, that
the British in creating this office, bolstered rather than
weakened the traditional administrative systems” If this
transformation initially weakened the power and status of
the Ndormahei himself (and it did), it provided an outlet
for the ambitions of the lesser chiefs, and solidified their
local positions vis-a-vis their own kin-groups and villages.
In later years it worked to bolster the local power of the
P.C. himself, for the office was always under the P.C.‘s
.Jurisdiction, and a strong P.C. quickly learned how to use

.his subordinates for his own purposes.

The title of Patilavali (Section Speaker) was also

a creation of the British, This needs no comment, for

278

the office was exactly comparable to that of the Ndolavali

(Chiefdom Speaker) vis-a-vis the Paramount Chief.186

The Tamahei, or Town Chief, who in the pre-colonial
days shared many of the duties later given to the Patimahei,
retained his importance in the towns and villages. Though
he had once trained the war—boys (kugba) under the Jurisdic-
tion of the P.C., and in that way had exercised a good deal
of local power and even more influence,187 he had never
been anything more than an agent of the Ndormahei when it
came to the affairs of the entire chiefdom. His most impor-
tant function, that of representing the old Mende lineages
which dominated in his own village or town, was also re-
tained by the British. As such, he had provided the local
sanction in the rural areas, and continued to do so. It is
doubtful that the early administrators understood this part
of the traditional system, but they nevertheless quickly
recognized the importance of the billage "headman," especi-

ally in his capacity to aid in tax-collection.188

186F1e1d Notes, 23a, P.C. Gaima, 1965-
187Ibid., 1966.

188Ibid., 1966.

279

The Tamahei was also important in the new administration

in his old role of supervising the takedimahei (work
gangs). In areas where the railway was being built, it

was the Tamahei who performed most of the day-by-day tasks
connected with providing an adequate labor force, and
smoothing the problem of liaison with the higher-ups in the
local chiefdom administration.189 The transformation here
was primarily in terms of the new distribution of power
within the chiefdom. Like the newly created Patimahei, the
Tamahei became part of a legal, formally established, statute-
controlled hierarchy, where before he had had only a loose
military allegiance to the most powerful Ndormahei in this
area. Some of these Tamahei had changed their loyalties in
times of war, in order to protect their own towns, and
functioned as lineage (kin-group) heads in the evolving
system. Any real power of tribute which he might have
exercised locally before the British, in the presence of a
weak Ndormahei, was lost. The transformation,then, was

like that exemplified in the creation of the new office

189
Ibid., 1966.

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280

of Patimahei, a transformation towards a fixed and formal
structure with established institutions. As for the

Talavali or Town Speaker, his role as assistant and spokes-

 

man (actually an honorary more than a functional post)

changed only in respect to the change in the office of

Tamahei itself.190

The Koulo-Komahei or Ward Chief was rare prior to
the colonial period, existing only in large towns like
Luawa, Pendembu and Baiwala.’ _Since the office was pre-
viously similar in function to that of the Tamahei, the
jBritish did little to change it. They did, however, sub-
ordinate it to the Tamahei, thus preserving the hierarchy
‘which they were at such pains to establish. After 1900.
there was never any doubt, for example, who held more local
;power5 the Tamahei or the Koulo-Komahei. The latter might

indeed have more influence, but in terms of rank and power,

190
Field Notes, Malema, Momo Tia, 1966.

a
See Chapter III, page 105

(I

281

he was always beneath the former.”1

As for the Heilamui or Town Crier, the title was
simply not recognized by the British as an official posi-
tion in the chiefdom administration. If a P.C. wished to
maintain one, it was up to him to pay the cost and provide
the work.

It was in legal and Judicial matters that the
planned changes introduced by the British were most de-
cisive in the process of transformation. In the tradi-
tional system, sanctions were largely maintained through
the supernatural force of the Poro society.”2 Host lesser
disputes were settled by the elders, though serious offenses
were taken to the local Chief or ”overlord" (Ndormahei)
who would call the "big men” together in the way described
in Chapter III.‘ The system seemed to work fairly efficient-
ly, and it provided another means of income for the members
of the “court." Bribery in such a system was common

(indeed an accepted practice, a "shake-hand" being expected

1”See Appendix No. 6 on Malema.

192Little, The Mende, p. no.

“This system is described in Chapter III in some de-
tail, though it varied in minor degree from place to place.
Also see Chapter I, section 10, in Little's The Mende of
Sierra Leone.

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282

of any ”big man" who agreed to take a case to the kutiJemei.193
The Ndormahei was supposed to be immune to bribery of this
sort, though this varied in practice. Naturally, to the
British with their own ancient legal traditions in which
bribery was condemnable (though common enough until the nine-
teenth century) this was an iniquitous and unfair legal sys-
tem; especially since they imposed their own legal system

over the native one through an appellate system. Also,

since the Mende "courts" had no fixed composition, and rather
varying procedures (as in the system of summoning the court),19"
the British determined to fix the Judicial practices by
statute, following fairly closely the Mende traditional
jpractice, and retaining the Chiefs as presiding officers.

The Ordinances passed in 1896-97 formally established what
became known as the ”Native Courts ," in which the Paramount
Chiefs were “allowed to go on hearing minor cases which con-

cerned 'natives' (defined by Ordinance as aboriginal Africans

193
Field Notes, Luawa, Brimah Jonny, 1966. Note

N00 60

19“Ibid., Note No. 6.

283

ordinarily resident in the Protectorate) in their own
courts, taking court fees, awarding fines and imprison-
ment, but not corporal punishment.l95 Under this system,
any "natives" charged with serious crimes (such as murder
or offenses in Secret Societies), went before the D.C.‘s
court, which was presided over by the D.C., with two or
more Chiefs as assessors. The D.C. alone sat over cases
concerning "non-natives," cases dealing with slave-raiding
or dealing, land cases between P.C.‘s, witchcraft and

"tribal rights."l95

Since the D.C. under this system was not bound by
English law (that is, he was able to Judge most cases arbi-
trarily, unhampered by lawyers, and no counsel could plead
in the Protectorate without special leave), it was his own
common sense and basic understanding of local tradition that
determined the state of Justice in his own court at the

District level.197 Because policing was, until 1901, the

1958. L. Protectorate Ordinances 20/1896; 11/18973
15/1897-

196Ibid., 11/1897.

197Fyfe, History of Sierra Leone, p. 5M2.

28h

"Frontiers" responsibility (though even as early as

1897 a few Court Messengers were appointed to issue
summonses), the legal authority of the P.C. was further
undermined. In short, the traditionally most important
function of the Ndormahei was transformed overnight, the

D.C. holding the real authority in all important legal
matters, the P.C. dealing only with "lesser" affairs.

The significance of this can hardly be overemphasised. Since
most of the oral tradition explains chiefdom "administration"
in terms of "palavers," and since Mende society was highly
legalistic (regardless of the lack of formalized courts with
fixed composition and duties), the limitation put on the .
P.C.‘s Judicial function by the British resulted in a great
reduction of the authority and power of the P.C., as well

as that of the other officials.” In a sense, this "reform"
removed a major part of the traditional government's "legi-
timacy,” replacing it with a dubious legitimacy backed up by

British laws promulgated in Freetown. Later this was, of

s
See Chapter III, p.

285

course, recognized by most Mende Chiefs as a more secure

means of getting legitimacy in office.

There were only minor changes in this system after
1900, therefore, the real Judicial power remained in the
hands of the D.C. through the period of the First World War.
It was not until the establishment of the new N.A. system
in 1936, that the system was changed to any considerable

degree.198

Perhaps more important, yet exceedingly difficult
to prove, was the fact that the British did not recognize
the Secret Societies. Thus any official acting in his tradi-
tional role as a member of Poro, could find himself in the
D.O.'s court for breaking the law. The effect of this in
altering the status, authority and power of traditional
offices was obviously enormous, but impossible to determine

here to any accurate degree.’

198
Little, The Mende, p. 203.

s
See Appendix B, III.

286

Perhaps the only thing that saved a vestige of
the P.C.‘s power in Judicial matters, was the separation
in the ordinances of "civil" and "criminal" cases. This
was singled out for mention in the Annual Report for the
year 1897, along with the other major provisions cited
above.199 "Lesser" criminal cases were also, it must be
noted, reserved for the "Chief's court,” thus preserving
his traditional prerogative in most everyday matters con-
cerning the bulk of the people. The appeals system even
provided for appeal to the Supreme Court of the Colony
against the decision of the D.C. himself in certain cir-
cumstances.200 Thus a P.C. could find redress for any
grievances of a serious nature, in which the D.C. had gone

beyond common sense in using his own legal powers.

All this is further evidence that the British

in their transformation of the legal system, succeeded in

l99S.L.A., Colonial Reports, 1887-1912. "Annual
Report for 1896—1897,".No. 208,AJ. C. Gore Colonial Secre-
tary, pp. 19-20. ,

200
Ibid., p. 20.

287

institutionalizing and consolidating the Mende system to
fit their own, and thereby actually completing (though in
rather alien form) the process of development towards an
organized "state" system. It was simply expedient to do
so, for ruling through the native Chiefs, i.e., Indirect
Rule as it became known after Lugard's success in Nigeria,
was based on an assumption that a local system of ”govern-
ment," which bore certain administrative resemblance to
"western" concepts of government must exist.’

Having already discussed the basic changes in the
system of taxation and tribute, I shall deal here with the
specific effects of this change on the local officials,
including the P.C. Since this Britishfintroduced change
led to the Hut-tax War and the whole problem is enormously
intermixed with the question of whether the Rebellion in

1898 was caused by the new tax, or by other causes, it is

'The examples where the British literally "created"
systems of local "government" where none whatsoever had
existed are many. The most famous case is in Eastern
Nigeria. Mendeland provides an example of rather haphazard
formalization of an already viable system, rather than the
creation of a new one.

288

difficult to talk of the tax system without mentioning
the British thinking behind it. Governor Cardew's own
Justification in a dispatch to the Colonial Office is

revealing:

. . . after the first two or three years, sufficient
revenue will be derived from the Protectorate not
only to pay for its administration but to assist to-
wards the expenses of the Frontier Police and this
revenue in is principally derivable from a house tax.
The tax is a Just one, for the inhabitants of a
country are bound to contribute towards the main-
tenance of their government, and it is within the
ability of the people to pay it, so . . . I antici-
pate no risk of failure, for it has the means at

hand $3 the Frontier Police to compel them to do so.
, I

It is hard to imagine a more damning document in view of
what happened shortly after (though, as I have endeavored
to show, the Hut-tax was only a contributory factor in the
Rebellion). It is interesting that Cardew (unlike Mr.

J. C. E. Parkes, to whom the Governor rarely listened

apparently) here reveals his basic ignorance of Mende

201
"Cardew on the Hut Tax," in Fyfe, Sierra Leone

Inheritance (London, 1961!), p. 26“.

289

institutions. His assumption that the inhabitants did
not contribute towards their government is absurd, and
his belief that it was up to the Protectorate "to pay
for its administration," is obviously based on the pre-
vailing theories at Whitehall that the "White Man's
Burden" did not include paying the cost of administering
new Protectorates. It was, as we have seen, a horrid
blunder to assume that the people of the Protectorate
would be willing to pay for the maintenance of the hated
"Frontiers" who Cardew believed to be "under thorough disci-
pline,"202 but who constantly abused their powers at the
expense of Paramount Chiefs and other officials, and some-
times exercised a brutal tyranny over the population.203
Specifically, the new tax, and the methods devised
by the British to collect it, did not drastically change

the "system“ of collection as much as it did the prerogatives

202
Ibid., p. 265.

203
.Field Notes, Dea, Senesi Kpakphao, 1966. Note

No. 5.

290

attached to the Ndormahei's office. When the system was
revived after the Rebellion was over, the Chiefs were still
responsible for raising the tax on thir subject, and the
three stage process outline above in Chapter III. was con—
tinued, apparently without official sanction. The main
difference was that now tax was fixed by foreigners who
ignored the principle of "ability to pay" (though this
aspect of the traditional tribute system no doubt is
exaggerated in the oral commentaries). The use of this
tax as revenue for the P.C. was now fixed according to
law, and thus the control over the system of tribute was
widely known to have passed from the P.C. (and his sub-
ordinates on all levels) into the hands of the British.
The P.C.‘s commission of 3d (three shillings) per house
was resented locally because it now was a fixed amount
'which did not allow for familial, personal or other tra-
ditional circumstances, and yet did not provide enought to
inaintain a P.C. as the "wealthiest" man in the chiefdom.fl

''See Chapter III, pp. 110-111.

we
See Chapter III, p. 112.

291

P.C.‘s (and lesser officials, Patimahei and
Tamahei, for example) continued to receive the annual
tribute in rice or other produce for some time. These
were simply classified by the British as "gifts,” and did
not cause any trouble until the "Disturbances in the

Provinces” in 1955.20“

Other fees, gifts, and services to the P.C. and
his subordinates still continue. Though not entirely
legal, they cannot be eliminated, since they are so much
a part of the honor and prestige of the titles.

Because Mende systems of gathering tribute were
never institutionalized (as, for example, they were in
AbuJa) this transformation in the means of gathering tax
was not as destructive of the prestige, power and author-
ity of the P.C. as were Judicial changes. In the process

of transforming government of the chiefdom level, this

20“See Sierra Leone Report of the Commission of
Inguiry into Disturbances in the Province: November 1955
to March 1956, Crown Agents for Overseas Governments and
Administrations in behalf of the Gov't. of Sierra Leone,
.1956. These "distrubances" were riots against ”abuses“
carried out by certain P.C.‘s against the people in their
chiefdoms, particularly in Port Loko District and Kambia

District.

292

change was rather decisive. It separated the titled
leaders (the Ndormahei, the Patimahei, and the Tamahei)
from their people as salaried officials, "agents" of the
colonial administration. In this way a new distribution
of power was easily effected, and the titled officials
became employees of their British colonial rulers. At the
same time, the traditional titles were fixed for the first
time in written law, and rendered secure in a way that
would have been impossible in the traditional system. The
process of change was thereby controlled (whether "planned"
or "unplanned") by the British, making the Mende govern-
mental system accord with British conceptions of local
government. In effect, British D.C.‘s ruled arbitrarily,
and Indirect Rule in Sierra Leone was largely a myth. But
the traditional system w§§_used effectively as a means of
carrying out colonial policy on the chiefdom level. The
Alocal government system, as it evolved in the twentieth
dentury, was therefore tied into the traditional Mende
political structure, as transformed by British intervention.
Nowhere was the traditional system in Mendeland

“institutionalized" enough for the British simply to

293

adapt it with minor "reforms," as in AbuJa. Instead, they
arbitrarily transformed it to fit their needs, and in
doing so they only rarely concerned themselves with tra-
ditional precedent (where it did exist) or with the
historical process of change that was going on when they
arrived. In some cases, which we have documented, they
reversed that trend, in others they accelerated it. Often
they ignored it and the process continued on its own (as
in the case of the increasing tendency of Mende Paramount
Chiefs to garner increased personal wealth which separated
them from their own people).

We shall discuss planned changes that failed to
persist in Chapter IX. These were relatively insignificant
in Mendeland, and are important only as points of compari-

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I15

CHAPTER VIII

THE PROCESS OF TRANSFORMATION IN ABUJA
1902-1914

British Policy_in Abula

Abuja was believed by the British to be Just one
of several semi-pagan, loosely ruled, and barbarous areas
on the periphery of the more "civilized" Fulani states to
the north. Believing that the Fulani were "more capable
of rule than the indigenous races. . .,"205 the new rulers
treated Abuja as a lesser Emirate, worthy only of a District
Officer. Since Lugard chose nearby Keffi as the new pro-
vincial headquarters, Abuja became a separate Division,
and remained so until 1926. In the process of British re-
organization of the province, Abuja lost a good deal of
its territory, and regained only a small portion even
after the British recognized the historic significant of

.AbuJa and its connections with Zaria.

205Lugard, Dual Mandate, p. 198-

295

296

That the Emirate was complex and highly institu-
tionalized was only dimly realized in the first decade of
British rule. Abuja's small size, its location in the
predominantly pagan "middle belt," its history of brigan-
dage, and its small Habe population, were all taken as
evidence of its relative unimportance. The process of
transformation therefore was not so assiduously planned
as in the great Northern Emirates of Kano and Zaria.

Abuja was dealt with in rather cavalier fashion, reforms
were introduced from the top down as often as not, and
political officers tended to deal rather arbitrarily with
the Emir (who was a congenial man, amenable to all sorts
of pressures).

This is well eXpressed in the comments of one officer
about Emir Muhamman Gani (who had been "chosen" by the
British in 1902). He called the Emir "a weak man by nature
. . . easily influenced by persons disaffected towards the
administration. . . ."206 Yet, in reference to a proposed
elevation of the Emirate to the "2nd Grade," he blamed the

206
K.N.A., SNP 7/2, File No. 139/1908. "Letters
quxn Nassarawa Province to the Sect. to the Administration,

6—11-08,IL h.

297

Emir of the once proud state for recalcitrant behavior:

In 1905 when the High Commissioner visited Keffi,

he was the only paramount chief that did not meet

him on his way from Lahai, and when he did arrive

the next day he sat outside the walls of the town

and only came in the evening, the High Commissioner

however, refused to receive him, and withheld his

appointment to the 2nd Grade until he should have

proved his loyalty. Mr. Gill had a very difficult

time with him at first, but last year reported that

he had changed so much for the better, that he con-

sidered that the time had now come when he should

be graded and receive his staff.207
The basic ignorance as regards Abuja's governmental tradi-
tions, and its proud and militant history, revealed by
this letter is appalling. To classify the Emir of Abuja as
a "paramount chief" was patently absurd. IAnd to correct the
error in the manner indicated above was an equally obvious
slight. Of course, the British were not really concerned
at this early date with niceties. They had, after all,
appointed Muhamman Gani as Emir themselves, and, as we
shall see, the appointment was counter to all precedent in
Abuja. This is but one example of the methods and tactics
used in Abuja in the first years of British rule, and it is

not atypical.

207Ibid., p. A.

298

The experience with Abuja in 1902 had unfortunately
conditioned the British to an inaccurate and unfavorable
view of the system. The great reduction in Abuja's size
(which we shall discuss in detail shortly) is another illus-
tration of this attitude.

One gets the impression from some of the documents,
that this ignorance of Abuja was not shown by the junior
officers who worked in the field. One D.C., J. W. Gill,
for example, seems to have had no serious problems in col—
lection of the "Jangali" or in assessment of the districts,
in 1907.208 When the same officer recommended that a
formal court be constituted as a Judicial Council (con-
sisting of the Sarki, an Alkali and the Salenki), at the
Grade D level, he encountered no local opposition because
this "reform" did not clash with local custom. Gill seems
‘to have researched his proposal carefully.209 But he was

as local officer, with no real power at the higher levels.

2OSKNA, SNP 7/1, File No. 1762/1908. "Report on
Nassarawa Province, for March Quarter, 1908," p. 10.

209KNA, SNP 7/1, File No. 3371/1907. "Minute
Paper, Res. Nassarawa Prov.," memo from J. W. Gill, p. it.

299

At the Division level, political officers carried out policy
but rarely initiated it.

The attitude shared by many of the higher echelon
colonial officials that the Fulani were more capable of
rule and more "civilized" was at the root of many of the
early misunderstandings. In Abuja this attitude was partly
responsible for the decision which reduced the Emirate in
size. In a report written on the problem of native rulers
in 1908, the Resident of Sokoto, C. L. Temple, stated that
wherever possible the Fulani should remain in power. He
said that the Fulani, "is far ahead of the Habe in intel-
ligence and capacity," and included in his letter a
good deal of the psuedo-scientific racism common to even the
best scholars in those days.210 This kind of thing would
not however, have been enough to influence local decisions
as far away as Abuja. It only acted as reinforcement for
the prevailing Opinion in Zungeru that Abuja was scarcely
‘worthy its designation as an Emirate. For example, a
confidential dispatch sent to the Governor's office in

210KNA. SNP. 15/1 File No. 139/1908. "Confidential
Minute Papers.

300

1909 explained away a threatened mutiny in Abuja as the
result of "drunkenness," excusing it as typical of the
place; "Abuja is notorious for insobriety."211 There is
no evidence that the'sender of the telegram (Wallace) had
visited Abuja, nor that he knew the least bit about local
conditions.

Perhaps more important in terms of British policy
towards Abuja is the fact that until the second decade of
the century the British were grossly ignorant of its
history and culture. This is not surprising, considering
that no serious attempt to trace the history of Abuja was
made until 1912. The first officers to work in the field
under the jurisdiction of the Resident of Nassarawa
Province, such as Migeod, and Gill, were forced to cover vast
territories, most of the time doing assessment work (which
was time-consuming and left little room for other work),
or contrarily stuck in offices with reams of paper work.
Migeod later proved himself something of a scholar, but he

211KNA. SNP. 15/1 File No. 35/09. "Confidential
Dispatch." Unrest of Troops at.Abul_.

 

301

left little of value from his brief tour in Abuja. His
study of the Hausa language reveals his real interest,
and the pagan languages of the Abuja hinterland could
have offered little but a frustrating irrelevancy for
a linguist.'

The first comprehensive report which details the
history of Abuja was filed in 1912. Most of the work was
done by W. Morgan, who was Divisional Officer in Abuja
and Kotonkarifi (which had previously been part of the
Emirate), and it reflects his own biased view." The
geographical and technological parts of this report are
typically thorough, the brief history of the reigns of
the Kings of Abuja is competent, but the general tenor
of the report is inaccurate and misleading. Perhaps it

*Migeod wrote a book about his experiences later
on in Sierra Leone called, A View of Sierra Leone, as

well as a study of the Hausa language. He was an accom-
plished linguist.

 

uVarious informants in Abuja who knew Morgan,
were much surprised at the revelation (inadvertant at
first) that Morgan held the local people in such dis-
respect. He had a reputation as a friendly and happy
person. Most likely he was; prejudice is no guarantee
of ill-will, and probably there was no deceit involved.

302

reflects the prejudice of its writer, a prejudice that is
evident in all of his official communications. To "make
fun” of observations made a half century ago by ethno-
centric men untrained in ethnology and very much part of
the Victorian world in which they had been raised, is not
my intent. But, observations which attribute the well-
known "furnaces" of the Koro people to "Phoenician influ-
ence" are revealing of the prevailing attitude.212 That
the Koro could have created such "ingenious" devices (or
even that they might have acquired them through cultural
contact) was inconceivable to men like Morgan. It is all
rather like the early comments on Zimbabwe by the first

Europeans to lay eyes on it in the late nineteenth century.

In the same report it is stated that the Sarki,
Muhamman Gani, "has little power and little ability," and
nowhere is there even an intimation that this may be a
result of the way in which he became Sarki. Because he was

a son of Abu Kwaka, and because his appointment was

212KNA. SNP 7/1, File No. 577/1912. Abuja.
Koton-karifi Division Rgport, p. 13.

 

303

recommended to Moloney in 1902, was not enough to make
his rule truly legitimate in the eyes of the Habe elite
in Abuja. That the entire administrative system in Abuja
"was very unsatisfactory" was obviously partly caused by
the relative ignorance of most of the political officers
about Abuja's traditions. Statements such as: "Abuja
lived by slave-raiding and robbery. . . ." and'Abuja raided
as far as Koton-karifi but they made no settled conquests.
."213 are indicative of this ignorance. Morgan appar-
ently misinterpreted the unrest common to the period just
prior to British occupation, as the norm. He could not
conceive of the "feudal" structure of local government
in the outlying areas (as outlined in Chapter IV) as being
a genuinely workable system. Because it was not efficient
in the European sense, because it was not always "just"
in the British sense, because it was often brutally ex-
ploited by the rulers of Abuja, it was therefore incapable
of adequate local rule. One wonders what Morgan would have

thought of feudal England in the twelfth century or even the

213Ib1do, pp. 255“256o

30H

fifteenth. No doubt he, like his colleagues, would have
judged it harshly. Their's was after all, a "civilizing"
mission. It is not surprising therefore, that in these
years, Indirect Rule in Abuja was a euphemism for rather
arbitrary and direct intervention in the structure of local
government. However, reports like the one cited here, as
they piled up more and more information about Abuja and its
past, tended to make the system of Indirect Rule more work-
able as time went on.

Since Britain's policy was above all practical and
empirical, her vaunted reluctance to force herself upon the
Africans found eventual expression even in isolated and lit-
tle known spots like Abuja. If, as the historian of the
British Colonial Service put it; "the spirit of the men in

charge accented noblesse oblige," it must also be remembered

 

that "for all its authoritarianism . . . its aim was
service."21u The political officers, as well as the other

officials, stood by their own standards, and misunderstandings

214
Robert Heussler, Yesterday's Rulers (Syracuse,

1963), p. 202.

 

l‘

 

305

naturally resulted. But, after 1910, when R. D. Furse
brought a measure of basic standards to the Colonial
Service, the gap between policy as formulated in London
(or in the colonial capital) and policy as exercised in
the field was not so great as in the first half dozen
years. This is starkly reflected in most of the post-1910
documents.

It is difficult to judge whether the arbitrary
nature of British rule in Abuja in the first decade was a
result of the personal character of the officials. Cer-
tainly a man like Morgan, who seems to have had a penchant
for writing very detailed (and opinionated) reports and
assessments, was able to exercise vast power on the local
level. In 191“, for example when he was Assistant Resident
for the Province, Morgan rather arbitrarily collected taxes
from "recalcitrant" villagers in the Bassa District, and
was escorted by troops who burned three villages on his

orders to set an example??-5 This occasioned an exchange

215KNA. SNP 8/1, File No. 690/191u. "On Unrest in
Bassa District, Abuja Division.

306

of telegrams which show clearly the gap between a local
officer's perception of his duty and that of the Colonial
Office. When a light casualty list was presented in this
encounter (also a punitive expedition to punish the mur-
ders of a British prospectofiL the Resident, H. D. Larymore
felt it necessary to reply to Morgan in the following terms:
The casualty list in the regrettable 'Campbell Murder'
episode was the source of a great deal of trouble.
Here the officer commanding the Patrol, possibly tO'
show the prowess of his men in musketry, had appar-
ently been disposed to present as heavy a list of
the evening's losses as he could. As light a list
would have been far sounder»?16
And he went on to recommend that in such encounters the
Political Officer and Officer Commanding the Patrol should
at least "decide together before either estimates the num-

"217 In such cases the real concern

ber killed or wounded.
of the colonial officials was apparently not local justice
(though this was the normal excuse for the whole structure

of colonial government) or even accuracy in reporting the

216Ibid., Section 3.

217
Ibid., Section N.

307

truth, but eXpediency in creating the impression that
things ran smoothly.

Larymore himself was later investigated because of
"trouble" in Nassarawa Province, for which he bore respon-
sibility and blame, though in fact he had little to do
with it.218

We shall later return to consideration of British
policy as it applied to Abuja, but first we must investi-
gate the process of transformation in the structure of
government in Abuja between 1900 and 191A, especially as
it was interpreted by the Habe themselves.

Some Unplanned Changes Which Were
Institutionalized

 

 

Perhaps the most difficult thing to understand
about Abuja's traditional system of government is that it
was not really centralized in all its aspects. That is,

the differences between its political and its administrative

218
KNA. SNP. 8/1 File No. 201/191“. "Report

on Condition of Nassarawa Province," C. Temple.

308

systems made any kind of autocratic authority in the hands
of the Emir impossible. At the same time, the Office of
Sarki, though always filled by a member of the royal family
(which had fled Zaria in 1804), was granted to a new candi-
date only after careful consideration by all the appropri-
ate members of the ”inner council."‘ The arbitrary way in
which the British chose Muhamman Gani as Sarki in 1902,

was an abrupt and wholly unprecedented break with tradi—
tion. Since this was done in other Emirates as well, and
since the primary concern of the new rulers was to estab-
lish peace and to put amenable and loyal rulers in the
vacated thrones of the defeated warlike Emirs, there was
little attention drawn to this act at the time. But the
significance of the act was not lost on the Habe rulers of
Abuja, who did not know at the time that they were going
to be ruled "indirectly" by the British, and that they were
soon to be expected to carry on their traditional duties
much as before. The choice of Muhamman Gani (in which the

LMadawaki and other title holders were consulted) as the new

a
See Chapter IV.

 

 

 

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309

Sarki was therefore an aberration in the eyes of the
important title-holders in Abuja. But, as they assumed
that the British were simply looking for a "puppet" to carry
out their directives, the Habe naturally recommended a man
who would be subject to their influence at the same time
that he presented an appearance of dignity and legitimacy.
The commentaries make this abundantly clear. The British
wanted the same, and the rapidity of the choice is proof of
the mutual consent involved.

This makes the comments of Blakeney about the Sarki
more understandable. When he called the Emir "a weak man
by nature" and "easily influenced by persons disaffected
towards the government,"219 he was simply attesting to the
fact that the Emir was neither a strong leader (nor had
those who originally participated in his appointment--
including the British-—intended otherwise) nor an efficient
administrator. It was a mistake for the British to expect
Muhamman Gani to take a strong hand in the reorganized
administration. Had they known that the order of admini-
strative Specialization was roughly the opposite to the

order of political power in Abuja they might have tried some

219KNA. File No. 139/1908. Section A.

310

other expedient. In this sense they instituted an
"unplanned" change in the structure when they put direct
administrative responsibility into the hands of the Emir.
It is even doubtful that any Emir, even an able and
decisive man like Abu Kwaka, could have immediately done
all the British expected of the Sarki. Bound as he was
to a segmentary structure of political relations, working
through the various orders of Abuja's complicated hierarchy,
the Sarki simply could not act decisively in the areas
officially designated to him after 1901!.220 As I have
suggested in Chapter IV, no single person, had a decisive
voice in major political decisions. The British intro-
duced a severe shock to the very delicate equation which
characterized Abuja's political system. This was, of
course, just the Opposite to what they intended. It was
not until the retirement of Muhamman Gani in 1917 and
the selection of Musa Angulu as the new Sarki that this

situation was partially alleviated. In fact, the old system

220Field Notes, Abuja, Alhaji Hassan, 1966.

311

of "checks and balances" which predominated in the nine-
teenth century have never been revived.

As for the other offices in the rank order called
Senior Public Officials or Rukuni: the Madawaki, Galadima,
Wombai and the Dallatu; the British did nothing directly to
change them. Of course, after 1904 it was impossible to
continue the use of eunuchs in the appropriate offices,
though several men who were eunuchs continued nominally in
office till they died and that aspect of the title lapsed.
An example is the Dallatu, who is today a normal man of
course and the first to hold the title since it lapsed in
the nineteenth century.’

The Sarki's Council was another really important
casualty of British occupation. In a Provincial Gazeteer
for 1937, the District Officer for Abuja summed it up
this way:

With the advent of the British the Council seems to
have fallen into obscurity. The British dealt

directly with the Emir and they in turn were not
inclined to delegate any of the authority that was

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Left them. The British insistence that all office
holders should be civil servants and work for their
salary has gradually removed the old aristocratic
generation and with the other title holders, the
traditional council members disappeared into the
limbo of death and retirement.221
Written in retrospect this reveals a good deal about the
nature of the system as it worked in the years after occu—
pation. But it does not explain in any detail the reasons
for such a drastic change.

Again, we must look to the process of change, in
this case basically unplanned change, for the British
hardly knew the structure of the Council, let alone its
function. When they learned for example, that the non-
existent title of Waziri before 1904 was usually used in
the Fulani Emirates for the second most powerful office
after the Sarki, the British decided to create this title
in Abuja to facilitate administration. What happened
therefore, is that the new "advisors" of the Emir were given

new names, the Waziri (later Wakili) becoming the Emir's

"Chief Councillor" in British administrative parlance,

221KNA. File 100. Gazetters, p. 55.

 

313

replacing the Madawaki in certain of his traditional func-
tions. Titles like Galadima and Wombai became merely
honorary and carried no privilege or function in the

new system,222 or more accurately they held no "official"
function.

The major functions of the Rukuni title holders
nearly all died within the first year or so of reorgani-
zation after 1904. The Madawaki's job as commander of the
army and protector of the Emirate was no longer necessary
or possible after 1902. The British simply abrogated all
military functions, they did not plag to undercut the most
important of the Madawaki's duties and prerogatives.

The same could be said of several other tradition-
ally important titles. The Galadima's very important func-
tion as a source of intelligence about the enemy (from
which he always derived a good deal of power), totally
disappeared. Like the other functions of this nature, the
British probably did not even know that such a task existed

as a formal responsibility of one title holder. If they

222KNA. File 100. Gazetters, p. 55.

314

learned it, they learned it too late for such knowledge
to influence their own policy. This change was there-
fore, "unplanned," though no less important.

We cannot here list every possible function of the
myriad title—holders that lapsed or was abruptly abrogated
by the British reorganization, but some selected comments
might illuminate the process of change in the system of
government. One informant put it this way:

The most important changes were that those who

held wards continued to hold them, while those

title holders who had no wards lost their func-

tions (such as my own title, Kwarbai, or the

Wombai). None of those who did not get salaries

could remain long living off the Emir, but they

did not have landé so they remained in the palace

for a long time.2 3
For men of free status, or perhaps members of the large
ruling family, this was disastrous, unless they were
lucky enough to possess lands independently of the old
"fiefs." It meant that they had to rely on the Emir for
their support, and this could not continue long when the
Emir's source of income was a fixed government salary.

223Field Notes, Abuja, Hussaini Kwarbai, June,
1966.

315

Perhaps this can be more easily understood when it is
noted that the British drastically changed the local
divisions of the Emirate. Kuje, for example, was before
the British divided into three fiefs held by the Madawaki,
Wombai and the Saraunia.‘ With the introduction of the
district administration it was formed into three districts
called Kuje, Garki and Wuse, which were amalgamated in
1935.22“ Another example is the Pai area, which went from
an independent status under Zaria before 1804, to Abuja,
and then in 1929 back to the predominant Fulani in the
area. Then in 1934, recognizing the value of traditional
precedent, it was returned to Abuja as a Village Unit with
direct responsibility to the Emir.225

The whole process by whichthe new district admini-
'stration reorganized the old Emirate was destructive of the
whole system of local administration as it existed up till
1902. The British concentrated on the most obvious problems,

224
KNA. File 100, Gazetteers, p. 32.

 

225
Ibid., p. 33.

316

and in their eyes, the very loose and often tenuous re-
lationships between the Habe hierarchy in Abuja and the

outlying villages was not capable of modern administra-
tive efficiency in such things as taxation.§ Above all
this reorganization cut into the very delicate division
of responsibility between the two counterpoised groups,
the Rukuni and the Ruwana.u With the source of income
gone for most of them, they were reduced to mere figure-
heads and parasites who lived off the Sarki's largess. As
the above quotation suggests, those who happened to have
fiefs that corresponded with organized wards in the local
areas were able to maintain their political power as well,
and the system did not therefore collapse entirely.

If anything, the arrival of the British bolstered
the influence of the Mallams, who as a group apart, were
now able to advise the Sarki and other high officials

without being checkmated by the formerly powerful Rukuni

and Ruwana officials. As "teachers" and religious leaders,

‘ See Chapter IV, pp. 15u-160.

**See Chapter IV, pp. 135-138.

317

they were immediately recOgnized by the British as impor-
tant people in the political and social system, and were
encouraged as such. Some of them achieved greater status
than would have been possible under the pre-British system.
It must be remembered however, that the Mallams always
held high status and rank, and had never been as suscep-
tible to economic pressures as the other rank orders.’
The almost total destruction of the importance of
the military offices (which were often held in conjunction
with important civil offices) was another "unplanned change"
of great significance. We have already mentioned the
Madawaki in this connection, and the same could be said of
the Galadima and the Dallatu. In the traditional system
the administrative functions among civil and military
officials were combined in the complex system of power
relations, and the destruction of any of them would result
in a serious disruption of the balance described in
Chapter IV.

In short, such unplanned changes were just as

important in the transformation of government in Abuja

*See Chapter IV, p. 138.

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318

as were the conscious and deliberate policies of reform.

Some Planned Changes Which Were
Institutionalized

 

 

Of the several important changes deliberately
introduced by the British, the most important was, of
course, the new system of taxation. We have already dis-
cussed this in some detail, but it is important here to
analyse the effect of this new system on the traditional_
system of administration and political power relations.

The problem as the British saw it was to preserve the
legitimate dues of the ruling "Chiefs," while at the same
time abolishing slave-raiding, extortion and other sources
of income.: This is why Lugard issued instructions to the
Residents 'to see that all customary dues were paid by the
inhabitants to their Chiefs, as before, and to render all
necessary assistance in collecting them."226 The Proclama-
tion of 1904 was intended to be a temporary measure through
which the Residents and their political officers would

gather information (through assessments) from which new

226Orr, The Making of Northern Nigeria (London.
1911), p. 160.

 

 

0"

319

"legislation" could be framed to fit local conditions.
In a small Emirate like Abuja, where the system of tribute
and taxation was less developed than that of Zaria or

Kano, and where the only possible basis for an equitable

tax was population, this meant that an enormous job of re-
organizing the local units of government was necessary.

The setting up of new districts and sub-districts on the
basis of reports submitted by men like Migeod and Webster
was part of this process, and it transformed the whole

local system. Abuja also had lesser taxes, like the
Jangali, which had to be reformed and amalgamated. Stream-
lining such a system was a ”colossal" task. When in 1906

a new Proclamation gave effect to a complete system for

all of Northern Nigeria, the‘basis for assessment was the
annual value of the lands and produce, profits from trade
and industry, flocks and herds and other traditional sources
of revenue.227 To administer the collection under this
system, meant that the new districts had to have local

I

”headmen" appointed to assist. Lugard's Memoranda are full

 

227Ibid., p. 164.

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320

of details about the methods to be used, how to prepare'
books, what forms to use and so on, and are a testimony
to the thoroughness and seriousness of the reforms.228

Since under the traditional system the Chiefs were
incorporated into the Abuja government as vassals of the
Emir, governing their local units more or less independently,
this series of reforms cut directly into the relationship
between these local rulers and the Habe ruling house in
Abuja.“ It is true that even in pre-British times the
system worked best when a "District Head" (whatever his
title in Abuja) lived in the area, as in Izom. But, the
very direct and complicated nature of the new system sub-
stituted an efficient modern structure of centralized con-
trol for an ancient and very loosely organized system based
on sporadic payments of tribute. The effect was, of course,
to build up the power of local village and district officials

while the prestige and power of the Habe aristocracy in

228Lugard, Sir Frederick, "Political Memoranda,"
1918, Memo. No. 5, quoted in A. H. M. Kirk-Green, The
Principles of Native Administration in Nigeria, p. 118.

 

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321

Abuja declined. The only thing that saved the "central"
government from total alienation in the outlying villages,
was that Abuja had already deliberately "assimilated"
several local peoples into their structure, such as we have
outlined above in the case of the Galadima, Wombai and
Jarmai..

In all fairness it must be noted that the tradi—
tional system of local "government" was often totally ex-
ploitative. The existence of the hill-top Gwari village
is an example of this, and it was a fact that did not go
unnoticed by the early British officials. Morgan noted
this and did his best to persuade the villagers to come
down (a necessity if prOper assessment was to be accom-
plished).229 The British also recognized at the same
time that at least the vestiges of the traditional system

of local rule must be preserved if Indirect Rule were to

s
See Chapter IV, pp. 147-160.

229KNA. File No. 2357/1913. "Assessment Report
by Assistant Resident Morgan on DH. Saliku and Diko
District, Abuja Division," p. 7.

322

work at all. A letter from the Lt. Governor underlines
this:
I am not sure whether Mr. Morgan realizes the great
necessity of restricting the Dist. Head from dealing
with individuals. The individual should be dealt with
by the Village Head. The Village Head and his elders
living in the village are subject to the expression
of pOpular opinion and are controlled by it. . . .
I should like to feel certain that Mr. Morgan rea-
lizes the danger of permitting powerful District Heads
to deal with the individual village and not with the
Village Head. . . .230
Such comments are expressions of the very real concern felt
by the British officials at the highest level, that local
officers might become either petty tyrants themselves, or
the agents through which ambitious local rulers might be-
come tyrants. This does not necessarily reflect an under-
standing of the very delicate balance of powers which
characterized a "constitutional" system like that of Abuja,
but it shows some understanding at least of the importance

of preserving the forms through which the traditional sys-

tem operated.

23oKNA. File No. 353p/1014.i "Assessment Report
on Kundu, Abuja Division." Comment written by Lt. Governor
beside Paragraph 5.

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323

It is significant that the village units in Abuja
were reorganized several times in the next decades, and
that in 1934 the traditional tribal groups were restored,
with their proper heads assisted by village heads and
their councillors.231 This was belated recognition of the
tenacity and the continued legitimacy of the traditional
system, as it was found by the British in 1902. ‘

Abuja did not have a fixed and institutionalized
system of courts. The British therefore planned a total
reorganization of the legal system in Abuja, along lines
already established in practice elsewhere in the Muslim
Emirates in Northern Nigeria. We have already summarized
this new legal system in Chapter VI, but a brief analysis
of the effect on the administrative structure and system
of power relations is necessary here.

The informants generally agree that the introduc-
tion of an Alkali's Court into Abuja was a rather drastic
change, and that it transformed the Emir's relationship

with his own councillors as well as with his subjects in

231KNA. File No. 100. Gazetteers, p. 58.

 

 

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324

the local areas of the Emirate. The process here was not
a gradual one, nor was it unplanned and haphazard. The
British had adequate models which were native to the

region, and they used them.

As a Muslim Emirate, Abuja did of course apply the
Shari'a (Koranic Law) to its subjects who were believers,
but because of its vast pagan pOpulation the traditional
system was to allow the local vassal chiefs to judge local
cases according to custom. There was no fixed system of
appeals, though the Emir did judge important cases through
his council when they involved an appeal by a ward head
who was dissatisfied with a local judgment.232 And even
in such appealed cases, the Shari'a was not applied unless
the plaintiff and defendant were Muslim and under the juris-
diction of the Koranic Law. Except for capital cases and
serious offenses, the Emir and his councillors used their
knowledge of local custom to adjudicate, and relied on

their ability to apply force through the Dogari to make

232Field Notes, Abuja, Muhammadu Barau, Sandurmi.
June 13, 1966, p. 3-

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325

their judgments stick.233 It is obvious that in such
circumstances a typical Alkali's Court would have served
no great function, eSpecially when Islam was not taken
seriously by most of the population which was overwhelm-
ingly pagan, even in the towns, unlike Emirates such as
Sokoto and Kano.

The establishment of an Alkali's Court in Abuja
did not therefore solve the problem of reforming the local
legal system. It only provided a central legal institu-
tion for the small Muslim population. But the British, as
usual, had a way out in what they termed the Native Court.2314
This was a term to which very broad definition could be
given, according to local circumstances, and, of course,
it included Alkali's Courts. But, because the Alkali's
Court could only deal with those who would accept Islam

and its law, the British established what they called the

Native Court of Abuja, which was under the jurisdiction

233Ibid., p. 3.

23“Orr, Making of Northern Nigeria, p. 235-

326

of the Emir, but which dealt with cases from the districts
in which non-Muslims were involved.235 This was in line
with Lugard's policy of non-interference in the legal
framework of the native systems, while at the same time
imposing a uniform system at the higher levels which could
be used on appeal.236 In 1906 the new Proclamation set up
more detailed descriptions which provided for two courts,
the Alkali's Court and Judicial Council. By this provision
the Judicial Council had more executive power than the
earlier Native Court under the Emir's jurisdiction, in effect
this gave tacit recognition to the Emir's traditional tech-
nique of sitting with non-Muslim advisors when dealing
with pagan cases.237 The effect of all this was to trans-
form the system of justice into a fixed institution which
served the Emir himself. That is, he was no longer the sole
and arbitrary judge of all important cases, yet he now had
more fixed authority and therefore more power in the legal
235KNA. File No. 1092/1917. "Abuja Farms Dist.
Assessment Report, Nassarawa Province," pp. 49-51.

236Lugard, "Political Memoranda," in Principles of
Administration, pp. 136-137.

 

 

237Ibid., pp. 136-141.

327

system than he had had before. Cases could now be appealed
over his head to a higher authority, the Supreme Court, but
at the same time he could now use his position as the adjudi-
cator in the Judicial Council as a means of getting more
prestige than any traditional Emir could have received.
In conjunction with this "planned" change, the

British also brought a modern "police" force in the form
of the garrisoned tr00ps. Thus the rather informal use of
the Dogari as keepers of the peace was superseded by a
higher military authority, which limited the independence of
the Emirate, in line with the concept of Indirect Rule.238
The effect of this is evident in the testimony of several
informants. The Kwabai, an ancient yet very knowledgeable
man, put it this way:

There was always enmity between pagans and townspeople

and that is why peOple did not go out safely in the

bush. The pagans might wait to waylay others. Only

the Bwani area was really bad and unsafe for travel,

other places were quite safe by day. In the towns,

even in Abuja, there were thieves. Any thief who was

caught was killed or lost his hand. Most had wooden
doors locked at night.239

238Lugard, Qpal Mandate, p. 205-

 

239Fie1d Notes, Abuja, Hussaini Kwarbai, June 8,
1966.

328

Though the informant went on to say that there are now more
thieves than before (which may be true in general, but is
doubtful if applied to Abuja town alone), he acknowledged
that with the British there was considerably more safety

in travel, and that women could freely come to market un-
escorted. This, of course, was also a reflection on the
obvious necessity of the new colonial rulers to abolish

any local military forces and carefully check any local
forces which performed a police function, as they were
potential military elements.

Of the planned changes which did not deal directly
with the administrative structure, the most important were
those that changed the actual physical boundaries of the
Emirate. Most of this took place during the meeting in
Keffi in 1905, with the other Chiefs of Nassarawa Province.
According to the tradition (and this is preserved in the

Chronicle as well) the advisors and the Emir did not under—

 

stand the questions about the boundaries of the Emirate,
misconstruing concern over the unrest and lawlessness in
the outlying regions with a desire to blame them for these

troubles, they disavowed responsibility, which was taken

329

by the British to mean that they had no jurisdiction over
the areas in questions?“0 Thus all of Kafin-Kuta-Paiko
country was taken from Abuja and the new boundaries were
set at the Gurara River to the north and west. The plateau
running from the extreme northeast down to Keffi and
Nassarawa became the eastern frontier (this fairly close

to the old boundaries), and Gumi hills to the south were
the southern boundary.2ul For a brief period in 1910
Koton-Karifi district was returned to Abuja, but it was
removed again on the recommendation of Temple, the acting-
Governor. Other areas were given to Zaria Emirate, and

the northern boundaries set back to the river Tafa.2“2
This was a severe loss to the Emirate, and the effect on

the title-holders who lost valuable fiefs and on the struc-

ture of local government is incalculable.’ The British so

21Joli'assan and Naibi, Chronicle of Abuja, p. 27.

2141Ibid., p. 28.

———-.

2421bid., p. 28.

*For a better understanding of the significance of
this vast reduction in Abuja's size, look at Appendix C,
Section II. These charts referring to the titles and their
holdings in the nineteenth century obuja are very revealing
of the enormous loss that this very arbitrary British re-
organization of the lands incurred on Abuja.

330

drastically reduced Abuja in size (in accordance with

their view that Abuja was nothing but a lesser Emirate,
mostly pagan, and without a really viable central admini-
strative structure) that they were from that time on,
inclined to treat it with less consideration than it
actually deserved considering its historical traditions and
importance in the region. Only in more recent years has
this view changed, and with the publication of the Chronicle

of Abuja in 1952, and again in 1962, the Emirate has been

 

accorded its deserved place in the history of Northern

Nigeria.

Some Planned Changes Which Failed
to Persist

 

Most of the British attempts to transform specific
segments of the governmental structure of Abuja were, of
course, successful, because they dealt with concrete admini-
strative matters, such as tax—collection and justice. The
Beit-el-Mali (or the Native Treasury), which we have men-
‘tioned in passing, the Native Courts, the entire system of
the Native Administration as it was established in later

:Years, are all examples of this. But in the area of

331

political power, in the region where tenuous things like
authority and influence functioned according to the very
delicate segmentary political structure, the British were
less successful.*

Thus, when the British had young Musa Angulu
appointed Madawaki in place of the deposed holder of that
title, they were going counter to tradition, which had
never allowed a member of the royal family to hold that
post,2143 in an effort to control the power relations
within the Emirate. Thus, the Resident and any local poli-
tical officers could indirectly influence policy-making
within the traditional structure through a man they had
deliberately placed in a key post, and who would supposedly
become Emir at a later date. In fact Musa Angulu did be-
come the next Emir, though there is no evidence that he
had undue influence during his early years as Madawaki
(probably because there was no tradition for this).
Apparently he did an adequate job, all the while cultivating

.They were, of course, constrained to act only in
areas of obvious and already established precedent. The
outward administrative forms were concentrated on, and the

subtle political implications were generally ignored.

21‘3Field Notes, Abuja, Hassan Dallatu, June 5, 1966.

332

British support, until eventually he was practically run-
ning the administration, and became Emir well before
Muhamman Gani's death. But this all happened well after
the period with which we are concerned here. One of the
reasons that the British officers complained so about
Muhamman Gani's inefficiency was that they could not them-
selves function very smoothly without his help and his
influence. Had Musa Angulu really used his power before
about 1915, such complaints would have been different.
They would probably have taken the form of complaints about
his autocracy, et cetera, as they often did in the Fulani
Emirates.'

A further indication of the failure of the British
to control the transformation in political power—relations
in Abuja, is indicated in the testimony of Mr. H. R.
Palmer (an accomplished scholar as well as one of the most
able Residents in Northern Nigeria) in a confidential '
report on Nassarawa Province written in 1913. In reference
to the problem of maintaining the traditional loyalties of
the lesser officials or vassal chiefs to the Emir, at the
same time that all the old means of local revenue had been

reformed, he writes:

9

Ir

0 A a
E).

II

T
as

we!

h

333

If minor chiefs are paid salaries it seems desir-
able that those salaries though coming from the
Government should be paid by the Emir or Paramount
Chiefs of the various units.2M
This obvious bit of equivocation is just proof of the
failure of the original British plan to render the local
officials self-sufficient and therefore less liable to
the "corrupting" influence of the court. In other words,
it was learned from hard experience that the best way to
maintain an efficient local system of administration (even
with the great success of the taxation reforms and the
new treasuries)was to continue the economic dependency of
the local officials on the Emir. Such an obvious political
reality should have been noted from the first, but in the
urge to reform what appeared to be corrupt and extortionist
practices, the colonial rulers simply abolished the whole
delicate relationship between village heads and Abuja.“

That many so-called "vassal" chiefs did not owe their support

to the Emir, did not mean that such support did not greatly

2”"KNA. SNP. 15/1 File No. 20/1913, "Taxation
Report by Commissioner of Native Revenue," H. R. Palmer,
August 29, 1913, p. 5.

“See Chapter IV, p.

 

 

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33“

influence the system where it actually had force on a
local level. (We must remember that Abuja's government
on a local level was not at all consistent from place to
place.)

A further example is provided by a special report
written by Mr. Temple, the Lt. Governor of Northern Nigeria,
on the condition of Nassarawa Province under the Residency
of NaJor Larymore. Like most officials at the time his
praise was reserved mostly to the increase in revenues
accomplished between.l9lo and 1913. He also blamed the
troubles of the Province on the traditional setting:

the native units are composed of strippings of the
Emirates of Bauchi and Zaria, the somewhat turbulant
state or Abuja and the very primitive Hill pagans in
the Eastern portions . . . than whom no more primitive
tribes could be found. . . .245
He also recommends that Larymore be continued, since he is
"beginning to understand (the country) thoroughly." He
criticizes the Native Treasury (Bait ul-Nali) as being

controlled entirely by the Resident, with the result that

2‘5KNA. SNP. 15/1 File No. 201/191u. "Nassarawa
Province; Condition of," C. Temple, November 2, 1913,
Paragraph 6.

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"all administrative control except of a shadowy nature has
been withdrawn from the Chier3.'2“5 This is a most telling
criticism, since it Openly acknowledges that this particular
Resident (who has Just been recommended for 'understanding”
the local area) has been ruling quite directly and arbi-
trarily, even to the point of"himself paying out native
salaries.'2"7 The mere fact that a Resident could so
easily arrogate such oVerwhelning control with so little
notice is proof (at least in this early period of British'
rule which is our concern) that the basic equilibrium of
the political system in Abuja had been drastically trans-
formed. If the £252; still persisted,‘the structural
balance of the "limited monarchy“ with its segmentary'
political.structure,“lade up of the Public Officials, the
Household Officials and the King himself, was no longer
workable. In political terms the Resident now actually
"controlled" the system politically by means of his free-

dom to act as an initiator in decision-making process (a

2“Ibid., Paragraph 9.

22”Ibid., Paragraph 12.

 

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336

prerogative which had eluded even the strongest Emirs in
nineteenth-century Abuja). By paying salaries himself,
the Resident could undercut whatever remained of the Emir's
traditional influence over his still functioning Household
Officials and others who had been economically dependent
on him for livelihood. Had the Emir retained the right to
pay the salaries (even if the money came from government)
this would not have been the case. As for the Rukuni
ananuqana, they had mostly lost their old economic inde-
pendence with the taxation and administrative reforms
already dichSCCdtzua Fortunately, the system was later
restored is something like its original status, but never
to the point of regaining its old equilibrium. To this
day, the real exercise of political power is tied
intimately to the reorganized Native Administration rather
than to the traditional contraposed groupings outlined in

Chapter IV.

That the administration in Abuja did not break down

under all this pressure is proof of its basic tenacity.

2&8 .
See Chapter IV, p. 96.

 

 

.s

. nvvs

337

The oral tradition and commentaries clearly indicate that
the old system did continue to function quietly beneath
the surface. In fact, while officials like Morgan, Lary-
more, Temple, Palmer and Lugard, himself were exchanging
long reports containing vast detail about the reasons for
this or that malfunction in the taxation system, the
weakness of the Emir, the hopelessness of the Bait-ul-Mali,
or the pecularities and illnesses of their own staff meme
bars; the traditional system continued to function sur-‘
prisingly well. Popular consensus was still expressed
through the "political" groupings discussed in Chapter IV,
whose ”power" in this respect was independent of their
formal administrative functions (and therefore not known
to the British at all). What the British successfully
transformed was the outward administrative form at all
levels. The rank orders remained, however much they were
undermined by the planned and unplanned changes wrought by
British rule, but they were superceded by new and equally
subtle status groups who derived their new influence from

their new functions in the British administrative system.

After the British, the order of administrative specialization

 

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338

was 323 opposite to the order of political power in the
decision-making process. It was more nearly identical
(as it was, of course, in Britain), and in this sense the
attempted transformation was partially successful, though
no British official thought in such terms, as far as I

can determine.

The great failure of the British in their reorgani-
zation of the structure of government in Abuja (as in most
of the rest of Northern Nigeria) was their inability to
transform the existing structure (with its very delicate
and "medieval" checks and balances) into a modern bureau-
cracy with a dynamic political leadership which would
act as a vanguard for even more rapid transformation in
the future. Instead they effectively utilised (albeit
in rather bumbling and even ignorant manner) a highly
sephisticated but innately conservative system as a tool
in their own colonial system. In doing so, they perpetuated
the old system, providing it with certain reforms which made
it viable in a transitional economy, at the same time pre-

serving the power structure, the rank orders, the status

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339

arrangements and even the hierarchy of birth which char-

acterized the pre-colonial system.

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3‘40 I

CHAPTER IX

HENDELAND AND ABUJA: A STUDY IN CONTRASTS

Abuja
By the middle of the second decade of this century,

Abuja bore the unmistakable stamp of British colonial rule.
Indirect Rule was firmly established in Northern Nigeria,
yet Abuja had been articulated gradually into the British
Administration with considerably less success than would
appear from.the official reports. The highly developed
system of traditional administration had made the imposi-
tion of the higher authority of the Colonial Administra-
tion relatively easy in form, though in practice the pro-
cess of change had been only partly successful. The
British had been able to maintain intact the basic struc-
‘ture of traditional Habe rule, but in terms of their
stated goal to rule through the "native Chiefs" while at

'the same time transforming the governmental system into a

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responsive progressive polity, they had met with failure.
On the surface Abuja was an integral part of-Uest Africa's
most famous colonial experiment. Even the critics of
Indirect Rule in those days admitted that the model in-
Northern Nigeria was a grand victory for Lugard and his
disciples. Abuja was but a microcosm in the immense
region called Hausaland, in fact it was barely within, but

it was considered and ruled as such.

A basic weakness in the new system has been well

I 1 I

described by Margery Perham:

There were two potentially weak places in the system.
It depended upon the continuing loyalty of the people
to the Emir. Lugard assumed that he could appropriate
two or three essential and superior attributes of”
their power and still eXpect that power to function
within its new limits as if unchanged, both in essence
and in the eyes of the subjects. Furthermore, beside
each emir was a Resident who had the desire to advise
but the power to control. To keep the traditional
machinery of administration working normally

a certain degree of make-believe was therefore
necessary, with the Resident standing gagind the
throne but keeping his head well down.

2K9 .
Margery Perham, in A. H. M. Kirk-Greene, The
Principles of Native Administration in Nigeria (London, '
1965), "Introduction," p. x.

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This, however true it is, was nevertheless only part of
the problem. The British in deciding to use the very
sophisticated traditional government in their administra-
tion, perpetuated many elements in the system which were
most deeply rooted in the past. They also introduced new
factors which actually strengthened the hands of the tra-
ditional rulers and their families. What had a1ready.been
an almost oriental aristocracy (in terms of its relations
to the Talakawa or pagan peoples) became under the British
even more aloof and secure in its position. What had been
a traditional assurance of high moral status and cultural
superiority became in some cases almost an obsession.
These are strong terms, but I feel they are justified in
terms of the results of a careful study of the oral tradi-
tions and written documents.

Of course, the exceptions are many (Suleimanu
Barau himself is one), and sixty years of very efficient
and shrewd rule by the British have had their effect. But,
when the direct power of administrative responsibility
was thrust into the hands of the already powerful Emir, the

effect was to give him political power in the decision-making

 

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3““

process all out of proportion to his traditional role.*

A man like Muhamman Gani balked, not surprisingly, at

the whole bewildering array of new responsibilities for
which he could find no traditional support. During his
reign therefore, the local British political officer
(whoever he happened to be, Webster, Morgan, Sciortino,

et cetera) often ruled as a kind of Czar, only to find that
he was thus undermining the entire system of constitutional
government upon which Abuja (like the other Emirates) was
based. When these officers complained about Sarkin Muhamman
Gani's lack of ability and sense of duty, they were testi-
fying to the fact that he had_no power because he did not
wish to or was not able to exercise it in a way he did not
consider legitimate. The fact that a malleable man and
congenial man without great drive or force of character

was chosen as Emir (by a method totally without precedent)
on the advice of the important title-holders of Abuja,

is only further proof of the early failure of Indirect

Rule in Abuja. But the early failure led to a later

"success," and that success is our prime concern.

*See p. 136 above.

3N5

When the rulers of Abuja realized that the new
system constituted a shift of the political power base
into direct relationship with the administrative structure,
they acted accordingly. (Mum Angulu, for example, appears
to have recognized the new reality long before he became
Emir.) One excellent example is the supposed recalcitrant
behavior of the genial and ever-accommodating Muhamman
Gani in 1905, when he balked at attending the conference
at Keffi and acted in an 'obstructionist" manner. What
happened is that those who-still held political power
(such as the Galadima, Wombai and Sarkin Buwa) moved to
protect their positions and to influence the Emir. They
were successful in doing this because they had originally
taken care to assure that the man appointed by the British
(who.had after all, asked their advice in the appointment
in 1902) would be a man they could control if necessary,

a man who would remain loyal to the tradition of the office
of Sarki, yet who did not possess the ambition or skills

to use the new colonial rulers as a means of getting power

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3&6

for himself.’ The Beit-el-Hal and its function in the early
years of British rule is another clear example of the way

in which Indirect Rule strengthened the prerogatives of

the holders who had major administrative responsibilities
under the new system. It has been pointed out (by M. G.'
Smith, among others) that the administrative changes wrought
by the British after 1900 are less important than the un-
premeditated changes which restructured the traditional
political system. By creating a more efficient tax-collecting
agency and an easily controlled means of accounting for and
spending money in the Emirates, the British had intended to
put them on a modern economic basis, to make them self? '
sufficient and to promote fiscal "responsibility.“ They
succeed remarkably well in this aim, at the same time that
they put a new and modern weapon into the hands of the
administrative hierarchy of the Emirates. In Abuja at
least, the newly salaried officials of the N.A. who were

responsible after 1910 for the Native Treasury became

.This explains what seems to be (on the surface)
a paradox, Muhamman Gani's ”easily influenced" nature as
contrasted to his "obstructionism' at Keffi in 1905. (See
Chapter VIII, p. .

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3H7

effective members of a controlled bureaucracy. Like their
counterparts in Zaria they carried the objectives, tech-
niques, and practices of the traditional hierarchy over
into the new departments of the Native Administration.”0
Thus the old political interrelationships, the segmentary
political power relations, the hierarchy based upon birth
and local solidarities, and the highly bureaucratized
administrative structure were perpetuated under the
transformed system established by the British. The Emir
became more autocratic, not less (though in Zaria and
otheraFulani Emirates, the Opposite seems to have taken
place, because the Fulani had destroyed a good deal of the
old Habe "constitutional" check and balances on the Sarki's
power, and the British moderated the system considerably.)251
The formerly delicate equation upon which Abuja's legiti-
mate exercise of political power had rested was trans-
formed into an expanded and inflated political hierarchy

250

Smith, Zazzau, p. 232.

251
Ibid., pp. 203-223.

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3N8

which superceded the traditional hierarchy. The fact that

so many of the important new offices (and significantly

these usually possessed wealth, status, titles and even
political influence comparable to the pre-British title-
holders), were filled by old title-holders and their off-
spring is significant.

In summary, some of the major changes are listed
as follows:

1. The "limited" monarchy in Abuja, with its segmentary
political structure which severely limited the poli-
tical "power" of the Sarki, was transformed and the
Sarki became more powerful than any single "group" in
the traditional system. Also, the security of the
position of the Sarki vis-a-vis his supporters was
transformed in favor of the Sarki.

2. The Rukuni and Ruwana officials lost their old inde-
pendence to act as political agents. They became ex-
traneous title-holders, economically dependent on
the Emir, or they were appointed as salaried officials

in the new administration.

3A9

The old rank orders (which were usually parallel with
status) were superceded by new status groups, who
received appointments to the old high-ranking titles
for purposes of prestige having nothing to do with the
old functions that had gone with the titles and ranks.
The Emir's Eunuchs completely lapsed as an important

part of the administrative network of the machinery of

_government in Abuja. This applies as well to those

members of the Rukuni who were traditionally eunuchs.
Many of the titles were revived as honorary symbols.

The Household Officials who held military power lost

all function. The status disappeared as a unit in the
structure because the military independence of the
Emirate was abolished. The titles were revived without
any significant role, as purely honorary.

New titles, such as Waziri and Alkali were introduced
(on the model from the Fulani Emirates) with appropriate
official roles, rank-order and status. Only one of
these persisted however.

New offices were introduced which were filled by members

of the traditional elite of Abuja (and the surrounding

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350

areas) and which simply replaced the old system in
terms of administrative function, political power rela-
tions, rank and status. In time, most of these were
given old habe titles appropriate to their rank in the
new system.

The local administrative system was transformed into
a highly bureaucratized network based upon appointed
District Heads who were required to be residents of
their territories. These officials were also given
responsibility for tax-collecting and finance in the
Districts. This did not however destroy the tradi-
tional system because of the fact that much of Abuja's

hierarchy had already assimilated local peoples. It

' ultimately strengthened the traditional structure.

The Courts were institutionalized on the model of the
Fulani Emirates. This also strengthened the hand of
the Sarki.

The size of Abuja was drastically reduced. Actually
this made local administration and control easier
than before. If it reduced wealth, it increased the

central authority.

351

11. A Native Treasure (Beit-el-Mal) was established to
administer finances and record taxes.receits, et
cetera.

There is certain irony in the whole process of
political transformation in Abuja. The same can also be
said with minor exceptions for the rest of Northern Nigeria.
At the same time that the British achieved a remarkable
success in utilizing the traditional political institutions
as the foundation upon which they placed their own colonial
government, they also bolstered the less progressive ele-
ments of traditional Fulani and Habe rule. In Abuja,
where the system was not an autocratic kingship rotating
among a number of dynasties, as in Zaria, but rather a
limited monarchy within a single dynasty with important
offices primarily defined by their political and admini-
strative functions and roles; the transformation was more
retrogressive in the long run than it was progressive.
Because of ignorance of local circumstances (in the early
years Habe government was considered by the British to be

just a lesser type of autocratic kingship, a more primitive

352

variant of the Fulani system), and administrative exped-
iency, the system of Indirect Rule in Abuja destroyed most
of the constitutionally counterpoised political and admini-
strative structure. The result was that after 1905 at
least (and certainly after 1917 when Musa Angulu, a strong
man, became Sarki) Abuja's government was less "democratic"
less responsive and more authoritarian than before. The
more recent changes in the whole system of Native Admini-
stration (extended franchise, elected officials, et cetera)
have not notably changed the essentially aristocratic and
(after the British) autocratic nature of the local govern-
ment.

Thus the Habe aristocracy (which is generally re-
sponsible and enlightened these days, primarily because of
the personalities of the leadership, most of whom are well-
educated and dedicated public servants) was maintained
intact. The system was re-organized to fit into the
British concept of good government, and the hierarchical
nature of government was preserved, at the same time that
the nineteenth-century "balance of powers" between the

administrative and political units was irrevocably weakened.

353

It will never be known for certain, but it may be
that the only way the British could have really succeeded
in transforming the political structure into a ”modern,”
responsive and "democratic” system, would have been through
direct intervention in government at every level, with the
explicit aim of creating an entirely new system, in which
the old aristocracy played no part at all except as private
citizens. Lugard's grand ”success" may have been Britain's
ultimate and final failure. But this is speculation, dubi-
ous at best, for this has been tried elsewhere with little
success.

In order to really comprehend the whole phenomenon
of political transformation under Indirect Rule, we must
look carefully (as I stated in the 'Introduction') at
another quite'different traditional system and compare the
results of our analysis of transformation on a detailed

point‘by-point basis.

Mendeland
Mendeland was much more drastically transformed by

the British in the early years of this century than was

..I littl'.

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35‘!

Abuja. The British intruded at a decisive moment in the
history of the evolving Mende Chiefdoms, and in doing so
were able to accelerate the process of change and mold it
more firmly to their purpose. This is not to say that
government in Mendeland during the period 1900-l9lh
was more efficient and more ”advanced” than in Abuja. 0n
the contrary, as we have seen, the British officials had
enormous problems in consolidating their power and in
shaping the traditional system to their administrative
needs. But, the transformation in Mendeland (at least in
the three Chiefdoms studied here) was more complete and
as much a product of British intervention as it was of Mende
historical dynamics. Where Abuja simply carried its very
strongly-rooted traditional structure over into the new
system, thus preserving the essentially aristocratic nature
of government in the Emirate; the Mende found themselves
adapting to a quite new system, containing several totally
alien new “institutions.”

The reaction of Fabunde's successor Boakari Bunde
is a perfect example. Boakari Bunde had become Paramount

Chief of Luawa in 1911 with the death of Kailundu's

355

successor Fabunde. Boakari Bunde was Fabunde's son (thus
in effect, creating a new ruling house in Luawa, that has
legitimate claims to the Paramountcy to this day), and
had no other solid claim except his birth. This man came
into the Chieftaincy by means of a letter supposedly
written by a sub-chief to the Governor in 1908. It accom-
panied a letter purportedly written by his aging father,
both of which recommended Boakari as successor when Fabunde
died. .Both letters were exposed as forgeries, but Boakari
Bunde became P.C. only to be deposed in 1916 for mal-
administration of the chiefdom.252

Years later in 1950, the case of Boakari Bunde's
deposition came up again when the ex-P.C. then an old man,
wrote a letter to the Commissioner of the Southeastern
Province and the District Commissioner of Kailahun District
asking to return "home" to Kailahun to live out his last
years.‘ Boakari explained his removal from office and sub-

sequent exile in 1916 in the following terms:

2 2
5 Correspondence Files, Provincial Office Kenema,

"Letter from P.C. Kukubu of Upper Bambara to the Governor
of Sierra Leone," May 20, 1908.

356

As a Prince of the land, I was trained in all the
methods and formalities of Native Rulership. When
the English got into our country I had no time to
study the new order of things when my father died, and
I became chief, thereby coming face to face with the
white man whom I had not yet fully studied. The re-
sult was that I fell out with them. I must add that
it was due mainly to our not understanding each other.
Let it not be mistaken that my difficulties with the
representatives of the government was in any form of
a quarrel, but that my actions were misrepresented

to them by those who hated me, and had a chance of
moving freely with the white man. From the year of
1916 up to today I have not been permitted to visit
Luawa. . . . I do not argue that I did no wrong, but

I stress the point that it was due to ignorance of
the newly intoduced Colonial rule.253

It is interesting that even as late as 1950, Cox,
the D.C. at Kailahun as well as Childs, the Chief Commis-
sioner for the Southeastern Province, agreed to keep the
old man in exile since he would be a "disturbing" influence
because of "the present political situation in Luawa."25h
(There was another chiefdom dispute going on, which in-
volved the three "ruling houses" for one of which Boakari

Bunde was the oldest living representative.)

253Ibid., "Letter from ex-P.C. Boakari Bunde to
the Chief Commissioner and the D.C. Kenema," June 17, 1950.

25“
Ibid, ”Response to Boakari Bunde's Letter,"

October 13, 1950.

357

The most interesting thing about the letter is,
however, Boakari Bunde's claim that his mis-rule was a
result of his ignorance of British custom and his implica-
tion that the "formalities of Native Rulership" were incom-
patible with the new system introduced by the British. The
evidence from the oral tradition in the chiefdoms studied
supports this view, though one suspects that Boakari de-
served his exile. (Certainly the means whereby Bunde
became P.C. were highly suspect, if the letter written by
P. C. Kukubu of Upper Bambara exposing Boakari Bunde's
forgery of the letters, is true.) Obviously the innocence
or guilt of the ex-Chief is not the real issue here. Most
of the informants who remember Bunde's brief rule have
testified that he ruled well enough within the traditional
framework of power and prerogatives due a P.C. before the
British.255

The relatively "primitive" nature of government
in Mendeland was in direct contrast to the highly developed

system in Abuja, but to the officials in Freetown in 1896,

255Field Notes, Luawa, Brimah Jonny, January, 1966.

358

the "institution" of Paramount Chiefs, with their obvious
if undevelOped network of aides and retainers, was an
obvious means whereby the British claim to a "protector-
ate" over the hinterland of Sierra Leone could be validated.
Alldridge's visits to Upper Mende where he witnessed the
local effect of Kailundu's powerful Chiefdom in 1891, and
his visits to other similar warrior Chiefs had convinced
the authorities that "ruling through the Native Chiefs"

was the expedient which would work best.

We have investigated the first tenuous years of
Indirect Rule in Mendeland, and the outburst of rebellion
called the Hut-tax War in 1898. It is significant that
this rebellion is not comparable to the local resistance
movements in Northern Nigeria, such as that at Abuja in
1902, or at Kano in 1903. It was an upsurge of passionate
anti-alien feelings which spread all through both Mende
and.Temne country. In Mendeland it was planned, executed
(albeit very poorly) and sanctioned by Poro. Many P.C.‘s
and their supporters were parties to it, and participated
in it. Luawa, Dea and Malema were spared involvement

only because of their relative distance from the center of

359

the rising, and because of their strong P.C.‘s who had
either Opposed participation knowing what the consequences
would be, or because their people had as yet hardly exper-
ienced the effect of colonial rule. Boakari Bunde's above
quoted letter testifies to this. Fabunde, who knew little
enough of British customs, was never investigated because
he ruled quite as Kailundu had before him. He was rather
like Muhamman Gani of Abuja in the same period, in that he
was a jovial and malleable person, much liked by the peOple,
and without great energy, drive or ambition. Even after
the British had consolidated their rule, he carried on

so unobtrusively that the real confrontation between
British "reforms" and the old traditional system was
delayed until the time of his son. His son, Boakari Bunde
was unlike his father, ambitious and energetic and almost
immediately ran athwart British ideas of what constituted

good government.

By 1900 Indirect Rule in Mendeland had become
rather embarrassingly direct. The "rising" in 1898 had

prompted intervention on a scale that had not even been

360

considered before, and many D.C.‘s "ruled" quite arbi-
trarily in their areas of responsibility. This is one of
the reasons for Fabunde's ”success" as Opposed to his son's
failure. He was willing to let the British rule through
him and to reorganize the traditional system according to
their own concept, with his tacit approval. The transfor-
mation was already fairly complete by his death, when the
first serious clash occurred between what was left of the
traditional pre-British system and the new system. It is
perhaps noteworthy that the clash in Abuja came at the
beginning (as it did in the other areas of Northern Nigeria),
while in Luawa it was delayed and never took the form of a
military confrontation. Had Kailundu lived, one wonders
whether he would have benignly stood aside and watched his
own creation being transformed in its political forms,
.reduced in size and limited in power. It is known that he
did not like the limitations put upon him by the treaty of
1891, and that was long before the real entry of British
rule.

Let us look here at some of the major changes in

Mendeland. They are listed as follows:

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361

The Mende Paramount Chief was transformed into a
"hereditary" official, with his legitimacy resting
upon his blood line, and his "power" deriving directly
from the British government. He became in effect, a
paid servant of the colonial government, an agent in
the transformed Native Administration. His military
role was destroyed, thus his sanction disappeared, to
be replaced by British "power."

The Patimahei (Section Chief) was "created" as a sub-
Chief in the newly constituted chieftaincy. He was
subordinate to the Paramount Chief, and responsible

to him.

Titles such as Tamahei (Town Chief) became fixed in
relationship to the other offices in the Administra-
tion, whereas before they had been in a fluid relation-
ship to whatever powerful P.C. had ascendancy in the
area which included their "towns.”

Titles such as Koulo-komahei (Ward Head) which were
rare before 1900 and were roughly equivalent to the
Tamahei, were subordinated to the Tamahei in order to
make them part of the newly established hierarchy, and

became common.

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362

All military functions and the titles which were most
intimately connected with making war were abolished or
transformed. The P.C. could not make war, and the
Kubwei disappeared as a political force.

New offices were introduced on a large scale. Some
fit directly into the governmental structure of the
Chiefdom (such as the Patimahei) but many were func-
tionaries in the courts, the treasuries, the Court
Messengers, et cetera. Some examples would be the
Chiefdom Clerk, and (after 1938) members of the Tribal
Authority, who possess a status in proportion to their
functions.

The administrative system was radically transformed
into a highly structured bureaucratic hierarchy which
was subject to the Paramount Chief who acted as the
principal executive officer in the new system, but who
depended upon the D.C. for support and sanction.

The Native Court and the D.C.‘s Court were introduced
and became the principal activity of the officials in
the Chiefdoms. These new legal bodies became the prin-

cipal means whereby most local administration was

10.

11.

363

carried out, and the D.C. exercised his "advisory"
function. (Though the P.C. is no longer "President"
of the N.A. Court, this system still remains closely
tied to the work of the local councils established
since 19u9.)

The size of the Chiefdoms was legally delineated, and
in the case of Luawa and Dea, rather drastically re-
duced. In some cases Chiefdoms were amalgamated in
later years, in an attempt to put them on a near equal
basis in population.

The Secret Societies were removed from any participa-
tion in the Administration by means of law. They were
not recognised as legal bodies.

A Native Treasury was instituted for purposes of regu-

larizing tax-collection and finances of the Chieftaincy.

,These were decisive in making the titled officers .

salaried officials and thus agents of the colonial

administration.

A Comparative Analysis

A quick glance at the above list as compared with the

list showing changes in Abuja will show that the result of

 

 

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364

Indirect Rule in the two areas was similar only in the
externals. In Abuja the Sarki became even more powerful
(politically and administratively) in his already very
sophisticated political structure. In Mendeland the
Paramount Chief became a hereditary official (thus assuring
a degree of prestige for the office) at the same time that
he became nothing more than a servant (with his entire live-
lihood dependent upon government) of the Native Administra-
tion. Though the Sarki became a salaried official (that is
he got a share of tax proceeds on the basis of a system
set up by the British), he became even more autocratically
powerful in terms of Emirate politics. Of course, the much
greater size, wealth, prestige, and historic significance
of an Emirate like Abuja also worked to preserve a much
greater degree of independence of action for the Sarki
than for a Mende Paramount Chief. Where Abuja's political
institutions were rooted in the past, Mendeland had hardly
begun to evolve a centralized system of administration or a
hierarchy of administrative posts when the British arrived.
In Abuja the only new title that was introduced

that became institutionalized was that of Alkali, and there

.1

365

was some precedent for this since it was native to the other
Emirates and was familiar to the Habe of Abuja. The title,
Waziri, on the contrary did not succeed in Abuja and dis—
appeared shortly. In Mendeland the British introduced many
new titles and offices, including the Patimahei (though the
title had existed as a kind of "Town Chief” it had not been
next in line from the P.C. and above the Tamahei). Abuja's
titles had long been fixed according to certain rank orders,
functions, status and the like,.but in Mendeland the British
found it necessary to legally institutionalize the titles
and their functions in relation to a formal hierarchy.
Whether this would have evolved anyway in Mendeland, is not
relevant to the analysis.

In Abuja the new offices of the N.A. were quickly
filled by men who belonged to the old aristocracy, i.e.,
members of the traditional hierarchy, who already possessed
either important administrative functions in the traditional
political system, or who held titles which had political
power attached to them. In short, the old titles tended to
lapse (only to be revived later--after lth--as honorary

symbols of authority, rank and status), but the same men

366

continued to rule Abuja, albeit under a transformed poli-

tical system. In Mendeland, on the contrary, the new offices

in the chiefdom government after 1900 were not comparable to
anything that had existed before that date. Thus they were
filled by ambitious men who found a power vacuum and rushed
into it. These were often ex-warriors, sometimes men who
had no prestige or status at all in the traditional system,
but usually "big-men" in the chiefdom.

In Abuja several traditional titles lapsed because
they did not fit into the new administrative network and
because they lost their financial independence. Some of
these were held by eunuchs and were not revived until after
19H“, when they became honorary titles for men who held _
high position in the reorganized structure (such as Alhaji
Hassan, Dallatu), and of course there were no more eunuchs
after those still living in 1902 had died. In Mendeland no
titles lapsed, though a similar decline in a traditional
institution's official position might be the refusal to
recognize Poro as a legitimate part of the system. But Poro

is hardly comparable to members of the Emir's ”Inner

p.

357

Council" for example, which functioned after 1902 as a
purely ceremonial agency (at least on the surface). Poro,
as far as can be determined, has continued in its tradi-
tional role, though unofficially, surreptiously and secret-
ly. Whether any transformation has taken place in this case
is difficult to say, because it was just as "secret” before
1900 as it has been since.‘

In both Abuja and Mendeland the traditional mili-
tary and police functions were arbitrarily abolished by the
British and replaced by formal British trained police or
troops. This shows that ultimately British authority in
both places rested upon force and little else. The puni-
tive campaigns mentioned in the above text are testimony to
this fact. Since in both cases the British ruled through'
the existing institutions they, of course, did not need much
more than the threat of force in order to maintain their
position.

In Abuja the local administrative network was

bureaucratized while the hierarchy of the administration

s
See Appendix B.

 

 

.A.

J

 

A»

 

368

remained basically unchanged. The transformation was mostly
in terms of function, and did not radically change the tra-
ditional system. In Mendeland the system of local admini-
stration was largely created out of the amorphous and
loosely connected sub-chiefdoms and lesser political units
(towns, et cetera) within the "chiefdoms." Here the British
carried out a radical process of transformation in that

they accelerated the process of change in order to pro-

duce a workable bureaucracy on the chiefdom level which
could efficiently carry out tasks such as tax-collection,
according to modern European standards, and keeping a
treasury.

In Abuja the Courts were institutionalized, but
this was done on a model familiar to the Habe rulers (who
were after all, Muslims) and according to a pattern that
easily incorporated their legal traditions before 1900.

In Hendeland the British created two entirely unprecedented
courts, the Native Court (though it included "big-men” who

had sat in the traditional “Council') and the D.C.'s court.
Both of these were given fixed procedures to follow (within

certain very broad outlines) as to what their jurisdiction

‘V

369

was, who should sit, and what sentences they could pass.
There was no traditional Mende precedent for this, though
Mende E 1 was based upon a careful recollection of prece-
dent. Courts as institutions with fixed membership were
alien to the Mende, while they were not unfamiliar to the
Habe, who had long depended upon certain officials for the
exercise of legal functions. Again the transformation in
Mendeland was decisive, while in Abuja it was relatively
mild. -

Both Abuja and Luawa were drastically reduced in
size by the British, though many Mende Chiefdoms were not,
(as some Emirates were not). This is decisive in the
‘process of transformation and the results only in terms of
its effect on the administrative machinery of the respec-
tive areas. In Abuja it served ultimately to streamline
the administration in its reorganized form, in Luawa it
served to greatly weaken the local prestige of the P.C.
(Fabunde), reducing the heir of a great conquering warrior—
Chief to just one more P.C. among many in the Native

'Administration.

370

In both Abuja and Mendeland Native Treasuries
were established. .This was a "reform" which the British
took very seriously, for without it the colonial system
could not be made to pay for itself successfully. It was
one of the foundation stones of Indirect Rule, In Abuja
the Beitqfll-Mal was familiar to the ruling aristocracy,
since it was a common Islamic practice (and was used in
some Fulani Emirates). In Mendeland the new Native Treasury
was a complete innovation, there having been nothing in the

traditional system of government to compare it to.‘

In both places the British conquest and inter—
vention into the political systems produced new local power
structures. Both of the transformed systems were traditional
in form (Abuja much more so than Mendeland, where the pro-
cess of change was much more important), but both were also
forced into subordinacy to a higher authority, the British

Colonial Administration. Of the two, Mendeland has been

s
For the details behind these comparisons see

Chapters VII and VIII and the Appendices, especially
Appendices B and C.

 

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371

more rapidly politicized into the political structure of
the central Government, Abuja has remained more locally

oriented, loyal to its traditions, its faith, its ruling

families and its past.

CHAPTER X
CONCLUSION

This study is a comparative analysis of political
transformation in two very different traditional African
political systems. By using the techniques of the his-
torian, the anthropologist, and to a limited degree,
the political scientist;, I have attempted to trace the
process of change in the political institutions. Emphasis
has been placed on the functions and roles of officials, the
administrative systems, and the means and distribution of
power within them as they were conquered and then subjected
to Indirect Rule by the British at the turn of the century.

From the analytic framework a general theory was
constructed, which compared the common structural condi-
tions of change and which explained the degree of trans-
formation in terms of stability, institutional levels and
the political actions of individuals or groups. Proceed-
ing from these theoretical considerations, I then examined

in the second chapter the background of the two areas

372

373

studied, and explained the reasons for choosing them. In
Chapter Three the system of government in the three Hende
Chiefdoms has been microscopically investigated, with
emphasis on the process of evolution towards a more
80phisticated political structure which was taking place
in the nineteenth century. The variations in the Chief-
doms were analyzed, and lists of titles and their tradi—
tional functions and roles were compiled. In these chap-
ters a large proportion of the information was gathered
from the oral traditions of the areas in question.

Chapter Four has proceeded naturally from.Chapter
Three. It investigates the historical background of Abuja,
with careful correlation of oral traditions with surviving
written records. Emphasis has been placed on politics and
administration as it functioned in the nineteenth century,
with careful study of compiled lists of titles and roles.

In Chapters Five and Six I have departed from mere
presentation of historical data and factual listings, and
began an analysis of British Imperial expansion into the
two areas studied. The reasons for the thrust into these

territories have been studied, the various justifications

 

...

.xr

 

374

for Imperialism analysed, the first hesitant steps towards
aggrandizement have been recorded and finally the physical
conquest and initial establishment of Indirect Rule has
been investigated in detail. Once again I have used oral
tradition wherever possible in conjunction with written
records of all sorts. Care has also been taken to allow
for the opinions of the men who themselves created the new
colonial regimes, for they are as important in the process
of change as are the traditional authorities whom they
conquered.

Chapters Seven and Eight have been exclusively
devoted to a detailed analytical study of the process of
transformation itself in both the Mende Chiefdoms and
Abuja. At every point of analysis, care has been taken
to assure that the methodology explained in the introduc-
tion was adhered to, all conclusions having been deduced
from careful analysis of the data classified according to

the three basic categories of change. These chapters

have proven to be the most important in the study, for it

s
See ”Introduction,” p. 15.

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375

is here that the analytical method has been directly
applied to all the data explained in the previous chapters
and the process of change has thereby been explained in
terms of the theory.

All the analysis has been carried out on a compara-
tive basis, though Chapter Nine is the only section which
deals with the direct results of that comparison. Through-
out the other chapters I have taken care to show the simi-
larities and differences between the two political systems
studied.

In the field it was this approach that led me to
the basic conclusions which this study attempts to prove.
The theoretical framework was not a pre-conceived one,
though as I have indicated in the "Preface" certain ideas
had been growing along these lines as far back as two
years before the actual field research began.

So much additional data has been collected, most of
which is directly relevant to my conclusions that I have
included selections in the rather extensive Appendices.
These are an integral part of the thesis itself, and cannot

be separated from it. They support the analysis and the

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376

conclusions at every point, as does the great bulk of
data that could not be included.

Briefly then, I have attempted to eXplain why it
was that political transformation in theUpper-Hende areas
of Sierra Leone took such a different form than it did in
the Emirate of Abuja in Northern Nigeria. Using a compara-
tive analysis of administrative and political systems,
functions, titles, and roles, I have proceeded to eXplain
the process of governmental change under Indirect Rule in
both regions. Having established what that process was, I
have proceeded to analyze it in terms of the factors which
determined the political transformation, or in some cases
did not determine it. My conclusions are that Indirect
Rule in Abuja was less significant in determining the
process of change in the political system than it was in
the Mende Chiefdoms. The reasons for this are many, but
most important is the fact that Abuja's political structure
was highly sophisticated, institutionalized in almost every
segnent, and politically unified with a long historic
tradition. The Mende Chiefdoms on the other hand were
evolving, fluid, possessed few institutionalized units of

government and has no tradition of governmental continuity.

377

When Indirect Rule was applied in both places (for almost
identical reasons, though by different men and in different
circumstances) it had quite diverse effects.

This is of course not surprising and has long been
known. But the usual explanation for the "failure” of
Indirect Rule in the less organized political areas has
been that it could not be applied where there were no
really viable native authorities. This explanation does
not apply to Mendeland in Sierra Leone (or to many other
places where Indirect Rule was used with as many differ-
ent results). In fact, Indirect Rule was a "failure“ in
Mendeland only insofar as direct techniques were used by
the colonial officers to effect political transformation.
In Mendeland the transformation (at least in terms of the
goal of the British rulers) was largely effective; it was
more of a success than it was a failure. One goal in Hende-
land was to facilitate administration of the Protectorate.
It was successful to a degree unexpected by the political
officers, and has been remarkably "peaceful" since. In
terms of the "modernizing" goals, success has been less

obvious, in some cases it has eluded all attempts, but in

 

 

 

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378

contrast to the Islamic Emirates of Northern Nigeria, it
could hardly be called a "failure." Education is wide-
spread today in Mendeland as compared to Abuja (though the
differences here are less obvious, for Abuja's present
Emir has accelerated education immensely since 194“), or
the Northern Provinces of Nigeria in general. Political
responsibility in Northern Nigeria (and in Abuja) is still
an aristocratic privilege. In Mendeland it is, for better
or worse, definitely responsive to the mass of the populace
and there is no "aristocracy." Paramount Chiefs are
directly responsive to and responsible for the population,
as recent events have witnessed. Though not "politicized"
in the modern terms, Mendeland has been "transformed" with
much more success than has Abuja.

In the Emirates of Northern Nigeria Indirect Rule
has popularly been deemed a "success." If success is
Judged in terms of the effective use of "native rulers"
in the administrative network set up by the British, no
one can argue with that conclusion. But, it was an explicit
goal of Indirect Rule to transform the political structure

of the Emirates (as well as the other "middle-belt" regions

379

of the Northern Province) into responsible "democratic"
systems, to render them capable of leading in their own
education and industrial progress, to make them respon-
sive to the consent of the populace, and at the same time
to preserve intact their traditional legitimacy and admini-
strative structure. or these goals only the last seems to
have been an unqualified success, especially in light of

what has happened since January of 1966.

 

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AP PE NDI CBS

APPENDIX A

SELECTIONS FROM THE CHRONICLE OF ABUJA

 

Installation of an Emir

 

In olden times it was the Emir himself who chose
his successor from among the sons of the ruling houses
after he had tried them one by one to discover who was the
most likely to govern the peOple well and to avoid internal
strife. But now the Emir is chosen by the Councillors.

When the new Emir has been chosen, this is the
customary manner of his installation: First of all, on
the appointed day, the Galadima, the Madawaki, and the
MagaJin Malam (who is the representative of the Shehu of
Bornu) meet together at night at the house of the Galadima;
and when they are met, the Galadima and the Madawaki send
a messenger to summon the man who is to become Emir. When
he has come, they tell him that God has entrusted to him

the house of Abu Ja. When they have spoken, he makes

381

382

obeisance to them and puts dust upon his head; this is
for the last time, for henceforward it is to him that
obeisance must be made.

Now the Galadima hands him over to the MagaJin
Malam who takes him away for the ceremonial washing.

When this has been done, he brings him back to them, and
they bid him install the Emir. Then the Magajin Malam
clothes him with the new garments which he has brought for
him, robe and trousers, turban and shoes. Then he takes
the garments which the Emir wore before, and gives them to
the old woman who has heated the water for the ceremonial
washing.

Then a horse is brought from the stable of the
Galadima or of the Madawaki, and he is set upon it and.
brought to the old Entrance House of Zazzau. Here he dis-
mounts and waits awhile. Then the woodin horn of the
Emir's is blown, and it says "(Name), the son of (name),
is the man on whom the Sun of Fortune shines."

Then he is again mounted on the horse and led to
the Entrance House of the Emir's Compound, but when he comes

up seeking to enter, then the Bodyguards shut the door

 

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383

against him crying "Is this the man? Indeed it is not
he!" Three times he is challenged thus until the Galadima
and the Madawaki speak and declare that this is the Emir.
Then one of the guards comes up, looks closely at him, and
says, ”Yes, this is the man." Then the guards bid him
enter, and the Galadima and the Madawaki hand him over to
the Makama Karami, a eunuch and the chief of the Private
Counsellors, who takes him to the House of the Emir's
Drums.

Here he must remain for seven days before he may
enter the private compound, during which time none of the
sons of the ruling houses may see him. When the seven
days have passed, he comes outside and sits upon a couch,
whilst the Galadima, the Madawaki, and all the other chiefs
of Zazzau come with salutations, one after the other. They
dismount and make obeisance before him. Then he puts his
hand on the shoulder of the Galadima and of the Madawaki
to show that he relies upon their counsel and support;
and when he has finished, he gets up and goes into the

house. (p. 12.)

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38h

The Regalia

 

The Sword of Zazzau

 

This is the most precious of the insignia of
office, and was brought by Makau from Zaria when he fled.
It is said that it came with Bayajida from Baghdad, and
that the rulers of each of the seven Hausa states had a
similar Sword, but this and the Sword of Daura alone sur-
vive. It is kept wrapped in cloth, and few have seen it
drawn; it has a single cutting edge, and formerly the hilt
was encrusted with gold.

In olden times it was taken out to the prayer-
ground of Idi on the two Feast Days, surrounded by the
best Archers of the Guard, and at no other time, except in

war, was it seen in public. It is no longer taken out.

The Kumbu

 

This is next in importance to the Sword of Zazzau.
It is a complete COpy of the Koran, and was brought from
Zaria. Whenever the Emir was about_to go to the battle,
it was set in a new calabash covered with a white cloth and
brought out of the Dakin Kaka, or House of the Ancestors,

in the Emir's Compound where it is kept. It is said to be

385

of great age, and is never Opened.

The Emir's Drums

They are three in number, quite small, and shaped
like an inverted cone; the point rests upon the ground.
The biggest is sixteen inches across and made of wood;
the other two are of brass, ten inches across the top;
the skin used is always calf-skin. The two brass drums
were brought by Makau from Zaria.

They are beaten on ceremonial occasions: for
seven days when a new Emir is appointed; every night
during the Fast of Ramadan; and on the days of the Greater
and Lesser Feasts.

They are kept in a special house called "The
House of the Emir's Drums" which also contains the skulls
of three war horses which Makau brought from Zaria and
rode in many battles. Their names were "Morning Star,"

"The Horned White," and "Victorious."

The Helmet Crown

 

A piece of medieval armor which the Emir must not
remove from his head for the seven days which he spends in

the House of the Drums.

 

386
The Five Spears

These are the spears which the Emirs took with

them to battle.

The Muskets
Muskets were first used in Abuja in the reign of
Abu Ja's successor, Abu Kwaka the Tall. These were given
to him by Masaba, the Emir of Bida, when Abuja was Opened

to strangers and to trade.

The Umbrella
Each Emir has an Umbrella made for him, of no
special color or design. It is used only on Feast Days

for the procession to the prayer-ground of Idi.

Later Addition to the Regalia
There is also another sword of ordinary design,
and a ring which the late Emir, Musa Angulu, added to the
regalia. Since the coming of the British there have been
added the Staff of Office, the Letter of Appointment, the

Seal and the Bugle.

 

387

The Ma'aji is the Treasurer who looks after the
insignia of office until a new Emir is installed. On the
day when the Sword of Zazzau is handed to him, the Emir
gives a robe to its guardian, the Sarkin Fada, who is the
chief Eunuch of the private compound. To the Sarauniya,
the guardian of the girl-children, he gives cloth suit-

able to her position. (9. 13.)

EEE.

When the Emir had decided to go to war against
some pagan town, he sent word to all his Chiefs, telling
them of his intentions so that they might make necessary
provision and arrangements. Then he asked the chief Malams
to discover for him a favorable day on which to set out,
and four or five days before the one appointed, he had the
war flag brought into the open space in front of his com-
;pound. This war flag, which disappeared, never to be
seen again, in the confusion at the coming of the British
in 1902, was white, and on it was written the verse from
‘the Koran, "La'ila-ha illa-lah, Allahu, Akbar." When the

‘town.peop1e saw it set up, they knew that soon the fighting

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388

men would leave, and all made ready for the day, for it
was the custom for each man to take his own food; and
many women and children followed them.

When the day came, the Emir called together all
the people of the town at the gate by which he was leaving;
and the Madawaki, who was the Commander of the Army, had
his special instrument brought out and played. .This in-
strument was made of two flat pieces of metal joined on a
stem, and it was struck repeatedly with a horn, rousing
the people to great excitement. Then the Emir had kola—
nuts brought out and piled in a heap on an ox-hide; these
be divided amongst his chiefs and the chief men. Next
the Emir exhorted his men to follow strictly the orders of
their leaders in the battle, the Halams offered up prayers
for the success of the expedition, and they all set off
together, leaving the Galadima in charge of Abuja, for he
did not go to war. The Chief Imam also stayed behind,
but the Salanke and the other Imams went with the fight-
ing men.

When they came close to the town which they were

to attack, they picked a site for the war camp, and they

389

spent three days building it; but during this time
patrols were kept out to prevent the enemy attacking
before the camp was made. Next they set about making their
dispositions for the fight. If the town had no strong
defences so that its men would be forced to come outside
to fight, then a suitable stretch of ground was chosen,
and the Emir dismounted at the foot of a shade tree in
the rear of his forces. Then he called all his Chiefs
and chief men to join him before the fight began, and
divided kolanuts amongst them just as he had done when
they were about to set out; and to the men with muskets
he gave bullets and powder which they poured into a

small calabash slung round the neck.

Then the Emir gave the order to attack, and immedi-
ately the people shouted together with all their might "Al-
lahu Akbar"; this they did three times, and rushed upon the
enemy. The foot-soldiers armed with bows and arrows and
spears went first, and with them, but spaced to give a
clear view of the enemy, were the men with muskets;

behind them came the mounted warriors, but very little

 

’-

C I

390

distance separated them from the foot, and often they
were all mixed up together. The Emir followed behind or
stayed beneath a shade tree in the rear, for he was not
permitted to take part himself in the fighting lest any
harm should come to him, for then his people would lose
all heart, and the battle he lost. He was surrounded by
the chiefs of his Household, and before him went his per-
sonal attendant.

In the front of the battle, fighting men and
drummers were mixed together, and sometimes a drummer
would throw down his drum to join in the fight; and though
the other women stayed behind in the war camp with the chil-
dren, yet the Zabiya (leader of the female Professional
Beggars) and her followers would go into the middle of the
battle singing and shouting encouragement to the men.
Sometimes if the fighting became jammed so that there was
no advantage to either side or if the enemy were unexpected-
ly resistant at some point, then the Chief Drummer would
begin to play the Emir's own call, and this is what the
drums said, "Who can crunch the bone that the Hyena cannot

crack?" When the Emir heard this, he would be overcome

391

with fury, and seize his spear and press towards the place;
but when the chiefs saw this they would beg him not to

go, promising to finish the battle for him. Then the
fighting men redoubled their efforts in their anger; they
drove the enemy right back and captured the town, and the
Emir rewarded them with kolanuts, robes and wives. The
Emir of Abuja, Ibrahim, fought many battles, east and west,
north and south, taking the towns of Lakwada, Kakuru,
Zanda, Muye, Kafin, Fuka, Jibidiga, Paikon Minna, and Tag—

bare, and all these places were subject to him. (Pg. 17.)

House and Household

 

In town and village alike, the peOple live in
compounds of circular huts built of clay and thatched with
grass; there are no two-storied buildings because of the
heavy rainfall, but most men make a roof of clay beneath
the thatch. Nowadays the more prosperous men build a
separate sleeping hut or house for themselves, but others
sleep in their wives' houses in turn. If a man has two
or three or four wives in marriage, he divides his time
between them; when he has spent two days with one wife,

then he will spend the next two with another and so on

392

always. The wife with whom he sleeps prepares his meals
and attends to the household affairs for those two days,

when a rival wife succeeds her.

In each of these houses there is a bed built
of clay with a hollowed space underneath in which fire
is kindled. The houses are enclosed within a compound
by plaited mats of coarse grass or by mud walls, and to
each compound there is one or more entrance house or
anteroom for visitors where the master of the place sits
to chat with his friends in the evenings; and in most
compounds there is a clay cornbin with a small place for

chickens underneath.

The majority of men in Abuja have two, three or
four wives. It is very rare to find a man with only one
wife, and rarer still to find a grown man who has never
married or who, having married and lost or parted from
his wife, has not married again; for both men and women
consider this to be a shameful thing. The husband supplies
food and clothing and the many other necessities of life
for his family, but the money that he earns is never

enough to provide fully for them, so he has a farm to help

393

him with the food, whilst the wives work to get money

for themselves with which to buy anything they need beyond
the necessities provided by the husband. They spin

cotton or weave or do a little trading, and with the
proceeds they buy more clothes, coloured mats, ornaments
and trinkets for personal adornment, henna and scent;

but it is the husband who pays for their hair to be
dressed. To the marriage the woman nearly always brings
the cooking utensils, pots and pans, mats and brooms; but
occasionally the husband will supply these, and when they

are worn or broken he must replace them.

The main market at Abuja is held on Sundays, when
the husband will buy whatever he lacks in his farm to-
gether with food-oil, firewood for the week, and meat if
he can afford it. He provides clothes for his wives and
children at least once a year, usually at the time of the
Lesser Feast; and at the Greater Feast he must buy a ram
to kill for his dependants. He buys oil for the lamps,
and pays to have water drawn and carried for his house-
hold; he pays for any repairs necessary to the house, and

he is responsible for the taxes, Besides all these

39"

things, a man must help his poorer relations when they
are in need, or with their marriage celebrations or with

their taxes. (Pg- 55.)

The Emir in Council

 

At dawn the Emir's Eunuchs entered the private
apartments to greet him, and if he had any matter to
resolve that day in council, he would tell them so, and
when they had discussed it awhile amongst themselves,
they would go out to the House of the Emir's Drums, which
was the Council Chamber, the Makama Karami leading. Be-
hind him went the Ma'aji, then the Sarkin Ruwa, next the
Turaki, then the Fakachi, and after him followed the
Sarkin Zana wearing a sword. Then came the Emir himself,

and after him the Boroka.

When the Emir was about to sit upon his couch,
two of these counselors would stand in front of him
holding out their wide robes so that no-one should see
him in the act of sitting down. When they were all seated,
the Turaki got up again and came before the Emir, and

hiding his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, told him

395

that the Sarkin Fada had arrived and was waiting at the
door of the Entrance House. Being sent to fetch him,

he went and, hiding his mouth with sleeve of his robe,
gave the message. Then the Sarkin Fada, the Jarmai, the
Barde and the Hauni went through, and when they came to
the House of the Emir's Drums they greeted the Emir two

or three times before going in to sit down.

When they were all seated, the Makama Karami
informed the Sarkin Fada of the matter under discussion
and of the opinions already expressed. Then the Sarkin
Fada would consult the Jarmai, the Barde and the Hauni
who would either agree with the opinion of the others or
else make their own suggestions. If it was clear that no
agreement was likely without further consultation, the
Emir sent the Turaki to summon the Chief Councillors,
and the others would go out and leave them with the Emir.
After a little time the Chief Councillors would usually
go out and across to the old Entrance House of Zazzau
where first the Kuyambana would be called, then all the
other Turbanned Councillors, and the matter examined.

Their opinion was then reported to the Emir by the Turaki.

o».

396

Now the Emir sent for the Eunuchs and the Body
Servants who came in, greeted him, and sat down. Then
he told them what the Madawaki and his counsellors had
advised. If all were agreed,the Emir announced the
decision, but if they still could not agree, the Emir
put and end to the argument by making the decision him-
self. Sometimes however, if it was a matter which they
did not wish to become the subject of general discussion
and gossip, the Madawaki and the Sarkin Fada would settle

it privately.

Four times a year also, on the day of greeting in '
the months of Full Bellies and of the Birth of the Prophet,
and at the Lesser and the Greater Feasts, the Chief
Councillors and all the Turbaned Councillors would meet
in the old Entrance House of Zazzau where, before going
to visit the Emir, they discussed any matter that had
arisen. When they were ready, the Madawaki went out

first, the others following in order of rank.

At the threshold of the Entrance House of the Emir's

Compound, they would find the Body Servants drawn up in two

397

lines to greet them; then they went in, and the Emir,
informed of their coming by the Turaki, summoned them to

him in the House of the Drums. The Sarkin Fada and the

rest of the Body Servants waited in the Entrance House
whilst the Madawaki and the councillors went through to the
Emir. At the threshold of the House of the Drums stood

the Dogarai, the Ian Doka and the Shamaki; passing them,

the Madawaki and the others greeted the Emir in turn, went
in, and sat down. If there was anything to discuss, this
was now done; otherwise only greetings were exchanged, after

which the Dangaladima would escort the Madawaki home.

The Emir would discuss anything concerning the
girl or women Children of the Ruling Houses with the
Sarauniya; the youths with the Dangaladima; the concubines

with the Iya. (P8. 78.)

The Tribes of Abuja

 

The Habe peeple of Zazzau who came from Zaria live
mostly in the town of Abuja and in the villages which lie
within five miles of its walls; but they are also found in

all the large places where there is a market, for they are

 

398

by nature mostly traders, either in a large way and as

brokers, or of small wares.

There are many different tribes in the Emirate,
the biggest of which are the Gwarin Genge and the Gwari
of the West; next, but a long way behind, come the Hero,
the Gade and the Ganagana. There are also a few Gwandara,

Bassa and Fulani.

There have been some Fulani living amongst the
Pagans of Pai and Kundu since the earliest times, before
the Holy War. As long ago as the reign of Ishaku, the Habe
King of Zazzau (1782-1802), a certain Damfani who became
the father of the first Fulani Emir of Lapai, brought
cattle into the Ganagana country, and Ishaku made him

Chief of the Fulani in his Kingdom.

The Bassa have been here so long that no-one knows
the real truth about their origins, but there are Bassa
in the Keffi country to whom they are related. The
Ganagana are related to the Ganagana of Lapai, for they
came from there across the Gurara and settled in the

southern parts of the Abuja lands. There are also

399

Ganagana and Gwari of the West round Minna and Bida, and
it is thought that their origins are the same as the Nufe

of Bida.

Of the origins of the Gwandara, it is said that
there was a man named Karshi, a son of the King of Kano,
who was driven out of the country by his father because
he refused to become a Moslem or to give up the fetish
dances. Because of this, he and his followers were called
Gwan-da-rawa-da-Salla or Gwandara, which is to say “Rather
dance to the fetish than pray to God." They made their
way south from Kano, founding, in the Keffi country, the
town to which Karshi gave his name, and offered to accept
the overlordship of the Habe King of Zazzau. Karshi fought
against the Bassa and the Gade, and won for the Gwandara
great possessions, so that his name became known every-
where in the south of Zazzau. Later, some of these peOple
moved over from Keffi to settle in what is now the Abuja

Emirate.

The Koro and the Gade are of the same original
stock, but for a long time now there has been a difference
between them, both of language and customs, and this is

due to their intermarriages with other tribes. The people

“00

whom we call Koro are the descendants of those Kwararrafa

or Jukons who conquered the whole of the Hausa lands in

the seventeenth century. Some settled in Zazzau, others in
Kane, and in the reign of the last Habe King of Kano,
Alwali, who was driven out and afterwards killed by the
Fulani, some of the latter moved down to join their

fellows in Zazzau and fought against the Bassa and the
Ganagana and took their lands. These are the Hausa-speaking

Koro of Zuba and Kawu.

The Gade are descendants of other Kwararrafa from
the town of Doma. It is said that a certain hunter came
from there to the forest by the Usuma river where he killed
a wild buffalo and skinned it. Afterwards, if any man
was going to this forest, he would say that he was going
to the place of the skinned buffalo, which is in Hausa
'kujejen bauna;' and that is why, when they came and
settled there, they called their town Kuje. The town of

Wake was also founded by these people.

The Gwarin Genge and the Gwari of the West found

the Koro already settled in this land when they came from

“01

the east, and they became subject to them; even today the
Koro have a natural authority over them. Of all the
peoples of Abuja, it is the Habe Hausa of Zazzau who have
ruled the others from the earliest times, and after them
the Koro, the Gade and the Ganagana. The Gwari have never
had any authority anywhere where these other peoples were
found, for they came after them and settled amongst them
by permission and not by right of conquest. But the numbers
of the Koro, the Gade and the others are becoming less,
whilst the Gwarin Genge are increasing rapidly and spread-
ing everywhere, so that now they alone comprise more than
one half of the total pOpulation of the Emirate. (Pp. 80-

81.)

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“04

APPENDIX E III

SELECTED COMMENTS ON MENDE POLITICAL ORGANIZATION

On Succession

 

(From Kenneth Little's, The Mende of Sierra Leone.)

. . . political authority has its basis in the dual
principle of land ownership and military conquest and
supremacy.‘ This principle is given expression in terms

of certain descent groups, who as ndo-bla, or ”aborigines"
of the chiefdom concerned claim hereditary rights as its
rulers and leading officials (p. 179).

Throughout these political positions the rule of
patrilineal inheritance holds good, though it is sub-
ject to modification in the case of Town chief and
Village headman (p. 181).

On Poro
(From a Mende informant.)

In Poro as in all other institutions a man gets
high post according to merit. A chief who applies
himself could (but not necessarily will) get impor-
tant office in Poro, if he upholds the dignity of
Poro and performs well. One must learn to behave
and answer questions well and work his way up stage
by stage.

405

To assemble officials of Poro is not simple or
easy. They normally don't meet except at pre-
arranged and official dates. Certain ceremonial
rites are necessary. A chief who is important in
Poro still cannot use Poro as his personal instru-
ment. Only a chief of great courage and ability
would attempt to use Poro in this way.

Poro is a very powerful body and the laws are
like the laws of "the passions which altereth not."
It is absolute in power over its members. Any
order must be carried out, even under pain of
instant death. (In the old days it was a great
power--death was often used as punishment while today
Pore is naturally reluctant to issue orders of any
drastic nature, because the punishment is difficult
to carry-out.) But, since Independence has come,
there is little interference in Poro--its decisions
are once again of great importance. The P.H. him-
self has encouraged this, for it is a means of in-
creasing his power (getting "absolute" power over mem-
bers of Poro). He is himself (on his own merit as a
member) a very important man in Poro, as was his late
brother.

Any politically successful man in Sierra Leone is bgggg
to be, almost without exception, an important man in Poro.
This is natural enough because men of intelligence, ability
and education have an advantage in getting advancement
through the various stages of Poro. They use this as a
means of_getting political power.

Poro is used to implement decisions from the

government. The SLPP is Poro and vice versa. For
all practical purposes they are one and the same.

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#06

Of course this does not mean absolute unity even
though Poro was more powerful in the past, when tribal
wars, for example, were common; Just as today in the
North, there is direct opposition to the SLPP, though
Poro is powerful there also. Absolute agreement and
unanimity is never possible.

In the old days Poro did not exercise a role in
the making of peace. Instead it used its power in
those things connected with beliefs, aggression, war.
It was more important in making war than in settling
it. It was not as much a pacific agent as a warlike
agent. It, of course, acted continuously, and still
does, as an agent of social control, approved be-
havior, et cetera, on the personal, family and com-
munity level.

Poro was not the only political force (there
are and were other societies-~but Poro is supreme).
As in some chiefdoms there are societies like
Gbohjie, which has nothing to do with Poro. Most
of its members are not in Poro, though some are.
But even GbohJie is small and local and overshadowed
by Poro.

Poro is not used to influence people politically
against their will, but rather such influence is
most obvious when a person breaks confidence or
rules-~then the discipline is strict, overwhelming
and immediate.

Another way Poro exercises influence is, for
example, when a task is neglected by the secular authorities,
then Pore may intervene through a high official (who is
likely also a Chief) who gets Poro members (all men of

course are members) to work and the task is then always

M07
finished. Brushing roads is an example. Poro is considered
never to fail.
Another example would be a dispute over an arti-
ficial boundary between villages and Poro is called in and
the settlement is made final. No one diaputes it.

In financial matters unfortunately Poro has not
been used progressively. Only when a member contra-
venes one of the rules does Poro ask for money--often
sums up to one-thousand pounds are extorted in this
way from elders or important men who have broken
rules.

Force and faith are the foundations of Poro's
unity. It rests firmly upon traditional beliefs and
customs (which have today little connection with our
money economy) and these are hard to change and not
at all progressive. If it has any direct financial
influence or power, it is less productive today than
it is destructive. There is a lot of terror involved
even today. This kind of pressure is more important
ultimately, than money.

In the constant struggle here between the pro-
gressives and the traditionalists, the educated (i.e.,
progressive) members of Poro pay little attention in
normal circumstances. The illiterate man uses Poro
to protect his own beliefs and traditions. He looks
to Poro as all powerful-~he owes it his highest allegi-
ance. On the other hand the intelligencia who belong
to Poro only associate themselves with it, when they
want to use it to their own advantage, in "normal"
circumstances. In unusual circumstances, such as
in ceremonial matters, everyone is united by loyalty
to it. As for myself, I often pretend to support
Poro wholeheartedly, for this is a way to appeal to
the illiterate man and_get his confidence."

 

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APPENDIX C I

GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE HABE EMIRS 0F ABUJA

Ishaku Jatau, 59th King of Zazzau at Zaria, 1782-1802

 

 

 

 

 

Abu Ja (l) Muhamman Makau Abu Kwaka (2)
1825-1851 at Zaria 1802-130“ 1851-1877
at Zuba 180h-1825

 

 

 

Ibrahim (3)
1866-1902 Muhamman Gani (h)
- 1902-1917
Musa Angulu (5) Suleimanu Barau (6)
l917-l9hh 19““-

Souree: Chronicle of Abula, p. 36.

 

“08

 

APPENDIX C II a
OFFICIAL TRANSFERS IN ABUJA

Before and After British Occupation

 

 

Before 1902 Madawakin Barde

é:”’//)

Kuyambana

C\§.Sata
s Madawaki 4;
A Galadima - -.u.\\
R ’ Dallatu:
K\ \_______/
I Dan Galadima wamba%%<::;_

-\‘ Makama Karami
After 1902

Makama Babba
+~+~r -+
1. -r
4 Iyan Bakin Kasuwa
r + + T
4,
Kuyambana
Madawaki
Ma'aji

S
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K
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v I

Sarkin Ruwa

“09

—..,

 

1410

Key for Appendix C II a

7 Direction of transfer (one)

 

\J

Two transfers

 

 

7 Three transfers
- , , , ,> Removed from office
‘1’—’:) No transfers to or from office
4—4'-*I’*' Lapsed offices till time of Sulaimanu Barau

 

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APPENDIX C II a

(b) Names of those who were transferred from one office

to another:

Before 1902

 

1.

Informant: Hussaini Kwarbai .

Madawaki Audu was once Kuyambana and before

that he was Madawakin Barde. He died about

 

twenty years before the British came.

Wembai dan GaJere (the short) was Makama Karami
before he became Wombai (he was of of course, a
eunuch).

Abu Kwaka (Dogon Sarki) was 955 Galadima and
later became §ggki. He was the only one.

Sannu Kayaba was Wombai and later was

appointed galadima.' Before the British came

 

only one Emir (after 180A) held a previous
title and he was Abu Kwaka, cited above, who
had been dan Galadima.

“11

 

 

.‘ PI.

After 19Q2:

1.

A12

Sarkin Musa Angulu was Madawaki before he

 

became Sarki. (This was without precedent
before 1902.)

Sarkin Suleimanu Barau was Iyan Bakin Kasuwa

 

before he became Sarki. (This could have
happened before 1902, but it never did in
Abuja.)

Alhaji Hassan was Sarkin Ruwa, then became

 

Makama Karami and then Dallatu, which office
he holds presently. (This never happened
before 1902. Before this Dallatu was never
changed except by death.

AlhaJi Aliyu Bissalla Kuyambana was Ma'aJi
before being appointed Kuyambana.

The present Galadima, Ishaku, was dan Galadima

 

 

previously. The system today is much more
fluid than it was before the arrival of the
British. The Dallatu's case is a perfect example.

This reflects the fact that most of the titles

 

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"13

are presently important only as honorary sym—
bols, while they once held considerable impor-
tance in terms of their respective functions,

influence, rank, power and status.

TITLES

APPENDIX C II b 1

AND HOLDERS UNDER IBRAHIM IYALI; SARKI UNTIL 1902

Informant: Kwarbai

 

 

Title: Sarki

Holder: Ibrahim Iyali

Origin: Son of Abuja

Comments: Appointed in 1877 at death of Dogon Sarki

Rukuni

Title: Madawaki

Holder: Mamman

Origin: Son of Jarmai Birarin Gwari

Comments: Inherited from time of Dogon Sarki, died about
1885

Title: Madawaki

Holder: Audu

Origin: A Kado of Abuja

Comments: Died about 1892

tun

N15

 

 

Title: Madawaki

Holder: Mamman

Origin: A Kado of Abuja

Comments: Was deposed by Europeans in 1902

Title: Galadima

Holder: "Alla Gaskiya"

Origin: A former slave of the Emir from Koto tribe

Comments: Died in office under Ibrahim Iyali

Title: Galadima

Holder: Sammu Kayaba

Origin: From Kuje

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim Iyali. Died in 1915 under
Muhamman Gani

Title: Wambai

Holder: Audu

Origin: From Kuje (also) of Pagan descent

Comments: Died about 193“ in time of Sarkin Musa Angulu.

(Must have been in office at least 40 years)

 

 

 

 

#16

 

 

 

Title: Dallatu

Holder: No Dallatu before those appointed by
present Emir.

Origin: A Dallatu was brought from Zaria but from
his death until time of present Emir (l9uh)
the office lapsed.

Ruwana

Title: Kuyumbana

Holder: Haruna

Origin: From Kano area

Comments: Appointed under Ibrahim and lasted until
time of Muhamman Gani. Died about 1908.

Title: Sata

Holder: Audu

Origin: A Gwari

Comments: Only in time of Ibrahim Iyali

Title: Garkuwa Babba

Holder: Audu

Origin: Kado from Kano area

Comments: Several 'evil doers" from Kano had fled to

Abuja for livelihood as raiders and got
titles. . '

 

 

us..-

A17

 

 

 

Title: Makama Babba

Holder: Babaya

Origin: A Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed under Ibrahim, lived into time
of Muhammaanani

Title: Iyan Bakin Kasuwa

Holder: Mudu

Origin: Koro from Zuba

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim Iyali, died in time
of Muhamman Gani.

-Fadawa

Title: Sarkin Fada

Holder: Muhamman

Origin: A Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Sarkin Ibrahim, he lived until
reign of Muhamman Gani

Title: Jarmai

Holder: Kauran Cauchi
(dan Mamuda)

Origin: A Gwari

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim Iyali, lived into reign

of Muhamman Gani.

 

418

Emir's Eunuchs

 

 

 

 

Title: Makama Karami

Holder: Bila

Origin Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim and later promoted to
Galadima under Muhamman Gani.

Title: Ma'aji

Holder: Koto

Origin: From Loko area

Comments: Appointed by Iyali, lived into reign of
Muhamman Gani.

Title: Sarkin Buwa

Holder: Makama Aho

Origin: From Nassarawa area

Comments: Appointed by Iyali, lived into reign of
Muhamman Gani.

Title: Dan Galadima

Holder: Labaran

Origin: Son of Abu Ja

Comments: Appointed by Sarkin Iyali, died after

Muhamman Gani.

 

419

 

Title: Sarauniya

Holder: Fatsima

Origin: Daughter of Muhamman Makau

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim, died under Muhamman
Gani.

Title: Liman Juma'a

Holder: Abdullahi

Origin: Kado from Zaria and Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim, lived into reign

of Muhamman Gani.

 

APPENDIX C II b 2

TITLES AND HOLDERS UNDER MUHAMMAN GANI; SARKI UNTIL 1917

Informant: Kwarbai

 

 

 

Title: Sarki
Holder: Muhamman Gani
Origin: Dogon Sarki
Comments: Appointed by British in 1902, brother of
former Emir. .
Rukuni
Title: Madawaki
Holder: Audu
Origin: Kado (Habe) of Abuja
Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani died about 1915.
Title: Madawaki
Holder: Musa Angulu
Origin: Son of Ibrahim Iyali
Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, British in-

fluenced his appointment, ruled until 1917.

 

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Title: Galadima

Holder: Sannu Kayaba

Origin: From Kuje

Comments: See Chart Number II, b 1

Title: Galadima

Holder: Bila

Origin: A Koto

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, stayed in
office under Musa Angulu until the early 1920's.

Title: Wambai

Holder: Audu

Origin: From Kuje

Comments: Died about 1934 under Musa Angulu, was appointed
by Ibrahim Iyali.

Title: Dallatu

Holder: None

Origin: None

Comments: See Chart Number II, b l

A22

Ruwana

 

 

 

Title: Kuyumbana

Holder: Haruna

Origin: From Kano area

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim Iyali, died about 1908.
Title: Kuyumbana

Holder: Babaya

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, lasted until 1919.
Title: Sata

Holder: None

Origin: None

Comments: See Chart Number II b 1

Title: Garkuwa Babba

Holder: Audu

Origin: Kado from Kano area

Comments: Appointed by Ibrahim and died about 191A.

See chart number 13.

 

 

423

 

 

 

Title: Makama Babba

Holder: Mai-gizo

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, Babaya was
promoted Kuyambana.

Title: Iyan Bakin Kasuwa

Holder: Mudu

Origin: Koro from Zuba

Comments: Appointed by Sarkin Ibrahim Title lapsed
after Mudu's death.

Fadawa

Title: Sarkin Fada

Holder: Muhamman

Origin:

Comments: See Chart II b 1

Title: Sarkin Fada

Holder: Audu

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani.

A24

 

 

 

 

Title: Jarmai
Holder: Kauran Cauchi
Origin:
Comments: See Chart II b 1
Title: Jarmai
Holder: Anayi
Origin: Gwari
Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, died under him.
Title: Jarmai
Holder: Akwara
Origin: Gwari
Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani lasted till time of
Sarkin Muss.
Emir's Eunuchs
Title: Makama Karami
Holder: Makama Aho
Origin: Kado.
Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani, title lapsed after

Aho's death.

h25

Title: Ma'aji
Holder: Koto
Origin:

Comments: See Chart II b l

 

 

Title: Ma'aji

Holder: dan Dambaji

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani and promoted to
Galadima.

Title: Sarkin Ruwa

Holder: ‘

Origin:

Comments: After Aho became Makama Karami the title

lapsed.o See Chart Number 13. II b 1

 

Title: Dan Galadima
Holder: Buhari
Origin: A Son of Abu Ja

Comments: See Chart II b l. Deposed under Muhamman Gani.

 

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A26

 

 

 

Title: Dan Galadima

Holder: dan Bako

Origin: A Son of Abu Ja

Comments: Died before Musa Angulu

Title: Sarauniya

Holder: Fatsima

Origin:

Comments: Lasted from time of Dogon Sarki to time of
Muhamman Gani.

Title: Sarauniya

Holder: Medisa

Origin: Daughter of Dogon Sarki
Abu Kwaka

Comments: Died in reign of Muhamman Gani.

Title: Liman Juma'a

Holder: Abdullahi

Origin: J

Comments: See Chart II b 1. Title lapsed until time

of Musa Angulu

 

 

 

APPENDIX C II b 3

TITLES AND HOLDERS UNDER MUSA ANGULU SARKI UNTIL 19“”

Informant: Kwarbai

Interpreter: Abdullahi Kassen

 

Title: Sarki
Holder: Musa Angulu
Origin: Son of Ibrahim Iyali

Comments: Former Madawaki, appointed by British in
1917 to replace Muhamman Gani who.was deposed.

 

Rukuni
Title: Madawaki
Holder: Angulu
Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Muss Angulu

 

Title: Madawaki
Holder: Dogara
Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Musa Angulu and lived into time
of Suleimanu, died in 1954.

 

#27

A28

 

 

 

Title: Galadima

Holder: Bila

Origin: Kado of Abuja
Comments: See Chart II b 2
Title: Galadima

Holder: Dan Dunbaji
Origin: Koro

Comments:

Title: Hambai

Holder: Audu

Origin: from Kuje
Comments: See chart I. b 1
Title: Wambai

Holder: Ango

Origin: Kado of Abuja
Comments: Died about 1938

Hambai title lapsed from 1938 till the
present one.

 

”29

 

 

 

Title: Dallatu

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: Lapsed through Musa's reign till Sarkin
Suleimanu

Ruwana

Title: Kuyambana

Holder: Isaku

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Musa Angulu died about 19AO.
Title lapsed until time of Suleimanu.

Title: Sata

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: See Chart II b 1

Title: Garkuwa Babba

Holder: Ibrahim

Origin: Gwari

Comments:

Appointed by Musa Angulu

 

430

Title: Makama Babba

Holder: Isyaku Barau'Ja
Origin: Son of Muhamman Gani
Comments: Town Headman Abuja

Title lapsed toward end of Musa's reign.

 

Title: Iyan Bakin Kasuwa

Holder: Suleimanu Barau

Origin: Royal family son of Muhamman Gani

Comments: Appointed by Musa and became Emir on Musa's

death in 19““.

 

Fadawa
Title: Sarkin Fada
Holder: Bako
Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Musa Angulu. At his death
title lapsed till Sarkin Suleimanu.

Title: [Jarmai
Holder: Akwara

Origin:

Comments: See Chart II b 2

 

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Title: Jarmai

Holder: Iya

Origin: Kado Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Musa Angulu. Title lapsed at
Iya's death until time of Suleimanu.

Emir's Eunuchs

Title: Makama Karami

Holder: Ahoy

Origin: Kado of Abuja
Son of Muse Angulu

Comments: Appointed by Muhamman Gani. Died under Musa
and title lapsed until Suleimanu

Title: Ma'aji

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: Lapsed when dan Dambaji was promoted to
Galadima by Musa.

Title: Sarkin Ruwa

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: Lapsed until Suleimanu. See Chart II b 2.

l_4_.

1432

 

 

Title: Dan Galadima

Holder: Isahaku

Origin: Son of Muhamman Gani
Elder brother of present Emir Suleimanu

Comments: Appointed by Sarkin Musa. Now Galadima and
District Head Kuje.

Title: Sarauniya

Holder: Rahmatu

Origin: Sister of Musa Abuja.

Comments Appointed by Husa Angulu, still in office.

Title: Liman Juma'a

Holder: Abdullahi

Origin: Kado of Abuja. Son of Abdullahi

Comments: Appointed by Musa Angulu and died in 1958.

 

APPENDIX C II b 4

TITLES AND HOLDERS UNDER SULEIMANU BARAU; PRESENT SARKI

Informant: Kwarbai

Interpreter: Abdullahi Kassen

 

 

 

Title: Sarki

Holder: Suleimanu Barau

Origin: Son of Muhamman Gani

Comments: Appointed by NA; previously was Iyan Bakin
Kasuwa.

Rukuni

Title: Madawaki

Holder: Muhammadu

Origin: Koro

Comments: Appointed by Emir because of position as Sarkin
Yamma, a Koro position.

Title: Galadima

Holder: Isahaku

Origin: Eldest Son of Muhamman Gani

Comments: Appointed by present Sarki, former Dan

Galadima.

“33

ugu

 

Title: Wambai

Holder: Muhammadu Baka

Origin: Royal family, Abu Kwaka branch.

Comments: Appointed by Sarkin Muss about l9h1, was
scribe to Ward Head of Garki.

Title: Dallatu

Holder: Alhaji Hassan

Origin: Son of Muhamman Gani

Comments:

Appointed in 1962 by Emir. Previously Makama
Karami and Sarkin Buwa, presently Head of
Abuja NA office.

 

 

Ruwana

Title: Kuyumbana

Holder: Alhaji Aliyu Bissalla

Origin: Youngest son of Muhamman Gani.

Comments: Appointed in 1962 by Emir, Former Parliamentary
Secretary, Ministry of Defense, presently
NA Treasurer, once Ma'aji.

Title: Sata

Holder: Malam Dogara

Origin: Kado of Abuja

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu

 

 

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Title: Garkuwa Babba

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: Not presently held.

Title: Makama Babba

Holder: Muhammadu Gani

Origin: Son of Kuren Yafatu who was a son of Jatau

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu Village Head of Bomburu,
Abuchi District.

Title: Iyan Bakin Kasuwa

Holder: Malam Sa'sidu

Origin: a Gwari

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu an NA Councillor.

Fadawa

Title: Sarkin Fada

Holder: Mallam Saliku

Origin: Royal Family Musa Angulu

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu District Head in

Abuja (NA)

 

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”36

 

 

 

 

Title: Jarmai

Holder: Hassan

Origin: Shua Arab

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu District Head in
Abuja (NA)

Emir's Eunuchs

Title: Hakama Karami

Holder: Mallam Adamu

Origin: Eldest son of Suleimanu Barau

Comments: Hard head of Kwali or Poi.

Title: Ma'aji

Holder:

Origin:

Comments: Not presently held because customary title is
not necessary - instead an acting Ma'aji.

Title: Sarkin Ruwa

Holder: ' Alhaji Hassan

Origin: Son of Muhamman Gani.

Comments: Appointed by Suleimanu in 1945. Promoted to

Dallatu in 1962.

 

 

 

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"37

 

 

 

Title: Sarkin Ruwa

Holder: Idirisu

Origin: Grandson of Ibrahim Iyali.
Comments: Appointed by Emir.
Title: Dan Galadima
Holder: Abubakr Barau
Origin: Son of Musa Angulu
Comments: Hard Head of Bwari.
Title: Sarauniya

Holder: Rahmatu

Origin:

Comments: See Chart II b 3
Title: Liman Juma'a
Holder: Muhammadu

Origin: Kado

Comments:

Appointed by Suleimanu about 1958.

 

 

..v———-

 

 

 

APPENDIX C II c

STATE TITLES AND ASSOCIATED LANDS IN
NINETEENTH-CENTURY ABUJA

 

Saruta (title) Kasa (lands)

 

Sarkin Zazzau (Abuja) At the time of Ibrahim territories
included: Kukwawu, Kurafe, Karshi,
Kurmin, Giwa, Cato, These five
were under the Emir before 1902.

 

Madawaki Zazzau Kushashi, Lahu, Shingere, Gunna,
Kare, Kwandaru, Panda, Inkoma, Ija,
Agwai, Kabi, Gadaro (l2 village
areas under Madawaki) Some of these
are now districts in other Emirates.

 

Galadima Bwari, Jiwa, Garki, Ligwai, Gwam,
Ketti, Chini, Guni, Gusoro, Kwaka,
Numba (11 under Galadima before
1902).

‘— w——_. '7 vfi—

Hambai Kuje, Karon Narayi, Gurku, Kurudu,
Chimbi, Katarma, Kudaru (7)

 

Sarauniya Hako, Ashara, Haru (all present day
Abuja) Tuchi, Igwa, Asu, Gini,
Kabula, Guj ani, Shanu, Kusakin,
Kurmin-Guimana, Zumba (13)

 

Iya Gwagwa, Idu Koro, Gaube, Adunu,
Kurmin Iya, Doka (6)

 

“38

 

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439

 

Saruta (title) ~ Kasa (lands)

_L-

Sarkin Gaya Bwani, Kakuri, Kumbada (this has

(Not Presently Held) always been ruled by a woman in
Sarkin Gaye's family and it is so
today for a woman presently is
District Head of Kumbada) Kasai,
Dan Gunu (5)

 

Sarkin Buwa ’ Kauwu, Shere, Wuse (3)

 

Ma'aji Dikko, Galadiman-Kogo, Kusherki,
(now near the border of Niger Zaria
province) Shingerin-Bisa, Kupa (5)

 

Kuyambana Kwaku (still under Abuja-now under
Galadima) (l) ’

 

*— fl

Dan Galadima - Kugu, Garam, Ida, Katari,.Kudari,
Dangono (6)

 

_r' V

Jarmai (Jarman Sarki) Kwagana, Abanso, Gawaru (3)

 

"w ~—

Turakin Sarki Izom, Toto, Uma'asha (3)

 

Fakacin Sarki Zuba, Abuci, Kuta, Koton-Karfi (h)

_.L

 

 

 

APPENDIX C II d

STATE TITLES AND ASSOCIATED LANDS IN
TWENTIETH CENTURY ABUJA
(AND THEIR PRESENT

Sarauta (Title)

Sarkin Zazzau (Abuja)

DISTRICTS)

if i

Kasa (Lands)

All of the Sarki's lands have dis-
appeared since 1902, though he owns
farms and other prOperty.

 

Madawaki

Galadima
(Presently D.H. Kuje)

Kushashi (today in Bwari District),
Lahu, Shingere, Ija, Agwai (in

Kuje Dist.), Kabi and Gadaro (in
Kuje District) (All M.'s lands are
still in Abuja Emirate, but they

are not under his Jurisdiction today)

‘Bwari (now in Bwari District), Jiwa

(In Jiwa), Garki and Ligwai (same),
Ketti (in Kuje), Kwaka (in Abuja
District) Numba (in Bwari). Guni
and Gosoro were lost.

 

Wombai
(No longer a D.H.)

Kuje, Chimbi (in Bwari), All the
rest were lost.

 

Sarauniya
(No longer holds
any lands)

Waka and Ashara (in Kwali.District),
Waru (in Kuje), Tuchi (in Bwari),
Shanu (in Bwari). The rest were.
lost.

NNO

 

 

I y”. ,‘piu

.-.-

.‘7

I. n 'PEI

 

1m

 

 

Sarauta (Title)

Kasa (Lands)

 

Iya
(No longer holds any
lands.) -

Gwagwa (in Kuje District), Idukoro
(Kuje), Guabe (Kuje), Rest were lost.

M _g o a a.

 

Sarkin Gaya

None left (all five were lost to
other Emirates).

 

Sarkin Ruwa
(No longer a D.H.)

Ma'aji

Kauwu (in Bwari District) Shere and
Wuse (in Bwari). None were lost
to the Emirate.

Dikko (in Bwari District), Shingerin
Bisa (Bwari), All others were lost.

 

Kuyambana

Kwaku (in Kuje District). Now
under Galadima.

 

Dan Galadima

Garam (in Bwari District). Rest lost.

 

Jarmai (Jarman Sarki)

All were lost.

 

Turakin Sarki

Izom(in Kwali District). Others
went to Nassarawa.

 

Fakacin Sarki

.Zuba (in Kwali District), Abuci

(in Bwari District). Others lost.

 

Bwari, Kwali, Kuje and Abuja (town)
are the four Districts in the Emirate
today.

 

 

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APPENDIX C III a

CHART OF JOMBU BELU (A SON OF KAILUNDU)
AND OF KAILUNDU

 

Gbawe T

 

Ndowe Nome
of 0 - Sori Komaru
Bunde T

 

 

- T Juma (who was captured in
I

P.C. Kailundu Kono wars, she came

 

 

 

 

 

 

from Yawi country)
Lahai
Jombu #
Belu T 0 Jene (deceased)
, I v 7 _r 7
1 1(twins) I
Sao
Fatmata and
- 0 Gina
Mame A
Junusa
(deceased)
Informant: Jombu Belu

Interpreter: Jombu Belu

442

 

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APPENDIX C III a
LINEAGE CHART OF SENESIKPAKPASO OF, BAILWALA

Sect. Chief for 8 years (l9ll-l920's)

 

__iw_annown __i _ Unknown

MBriwa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A(Chief) T Unknown % . Unknown
Faboi Kaneh I
(Chief) A Unknown
Kpakpaso - Janqu- i 8 Unknown
3- Kaneh t* A1
(Chief)

 

Unknown i_ I Yaku “

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Chief) Gandi - ? Lebo Pemu t + Sao, Ranch
Joso Moma Gaima
Duwo I - ~ (Chief)
‘ Senesi Kpakpaso
Hawanya i - (Patimahei of
wulo Baiwala Sect.
Amara Sao Sao Wuya

(of Dodo)i '

 

 

"MBriwa' means a crowd of people because MBriwa was a big
man who could force many peOple to do things for him.

Senesi-by native custom is known as the father of the
present P.C. Gaima. ““3

.... -1-

 

 

APPENDIX C III a

LINEAGE CHART 0F PAMBU FAMILY
(A Ruling House in Malema)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unknowni
Tawe g ‘
Dadua ' Unknown Dafama - _ Unknown
P.C. Gewa ' Unknown
Tamie 1“ Name
j Sedia
P.C.
Boakari P.C. Lumin
. KDunde Yunga
Jaa - Devie
Nyana
fl Watta
P.C. A '
Boakari
Pambu
I
A Ll A, A A
P.C. Lansana P.C. Kangoma Boakari Samba Vandi Vandi
Pambu Pambu Pambu .Pambu I Pambu II

the present P.C.

nun

 

.L‘I'.

APPENDIX C III a

LINEAGE CHART 0F GAVAO FAMILY
(Ruling House in Malema,
alternates with Pambu)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gavao i_ ?
(the Pambu line)!
Tamie
Kabba
Jaffo - T
Vaama T
Y . Gravao ' - F@#1ave
P. C. Homo
Kondo
P.C. Moiva f Gavao
Gavao - Y
Boakari
Garao
(Present
Chiefdom
Speaker)

HHS

 

 

 

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APPENDIX C III b

LINEAGE CHART 0F ALHAJI ALIYU BISALLA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Informant: Kuyambana Alhaji Aliyu
Bissalla June 28, 1966
*Isaka . Lami
? Jatau
“Muhammadu A 'Abu Ja “Abu Kwaka Alijima
Makau Dogon T - Y
Sarki
. ‘Muhammadu Habiba
T Ga9_1__ _ a I
Dallatu A Kuyambana
“Suleimanu Alhaji Shaibu
Barau Aliyu Naibi
, Bissalla'

*title holders

 

“See following page.

““6

 

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*1“.

LIST OF SONS OF MUHAMMADU GANI

In order of birth and titles held

Isaku-Galadima (District Head-Kuje)

Alhaji, Suleimanu Barau (66th Emir, Sarkin; Zazzau)
Isahaku Barau (d) (Dallatu District Head-Kwali)
Ibrahim Dodo (d) (Uwandaya)

Dahihuru Barau (no title) District Head Scribe of
Abuja town.

Ibrahim Dodo (no title) Leprosy Supervisor (Inspector)
Abubakar Sadiku (no title) Sanitary Inspector.

Alhaji Hassan (Dallatu) N. A. Development Councillor.
Mallam Abdul (no title) Village Head Scribe-Nuse

Mallam Shaibu Naibi (no title) Inspector of Education,
Northern Nigeria.

Alhaji Aliyu Bissalla, Kuyambana, (Native Administra-
tion Treasurer).

Alhaji Halilu (no title) Public Enlightment Officer,
Northern Nigeria.

Abubakar Koko-Sarkin DaJi, Supervisor of Forest
N.A. Abuja.

Mallam Ahmadu Auta (no title) District Head Scribe-Kuje.

The choice of Suleimanu Barau, second son of Muhammadu

Barau, was first, birth and then education. There is
no ruling that first sons become Emir.

uu7'

 

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APPENDIX D
SOME EXAMPLES OF QRAL TESTIMONY

Mendeland

 

a. From the testimony of Senesi Kpakpaso of
Baiwala, Dea Chiefdom, taken on February 9, I966.
Senesi, the most reliable of the savants in Baiwala, is
more than 85 years old, perhaps closer to 90. He is known
in the chiefdom as the most knowledgeable on matters of

the past.

On the Mende View of History

The words which refer to history are: nJepewova
and womaipei. The former refers to more recent and
current events, the latter to events in the more re-
mote past. Most young men are not interested in
history, even in my youth they were only forced to
learn certain things as children. Myself, I was
very patient and obedient and often near by father

so I learned more and I also travelled much and have
lived long.

Sometimes if an uncle were a strong man, children
would be sent to him to be raised.

”#9

U50

In the old days it was a law that not every
village would initiate (young men) into the
society (Poro). Instead only a big town would ini-
tiate the boys. Today under "British" law, Poro
can initiate anywhere, no control exists as it
once did. Thus the children do not learn about their
ancestors as they once did.

When a child was born, he would first learn about
the leaves and herbs used to cure worms, fever, injury,
wounds, et cetera. After he was grown some he would
also learn about farming and war. Any Chief's son
would be trained by a warrior to become a warrior. My
own father gave some of his sons to Chief Nyagua of
Panguma to be trained as warriors.

Each boy would learn in Poro a bit about their
town and its traditions, but learned little about the
past. To do this one had to become an old man.

After working all day, they would gather in the
town and gather all the young children and tell them
stories of the past, especially the family and its
relations in the area and who was in what relation-
ship to whom. There were no special people like
teachers, but rather a father or uncle who knew much
about the area and its past. The Chiefs gave their
children to warriors and these men would teach about
the past wars and other things of importance. I
learned from my father and other old people.

b. From the testimony of Brimah Jonny and Jombu
Belu. Both of these men are at least in their eighties,
the former may be in his mid-nineties. Jombu is the last

surviving son of Kailundu, and was a soldier in East

Africa during World War I, where he fought the German

 

 

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1‘51

army there, and was a policeman for many years in various
towns in the provinces. He speaks only Krio, from which I
translated the following testimonies myself. Because of
his own intimate_knowledge of the events described in the
interview, it was preferable to use him as the interpreter,
and then translate from Krio. Some of his own testimonies
are invaluable. Of course these traditions suffer there-
fore, from having been twice translated before they appear

as they are here.

On Tribal Law before the White Man

 

In cases of "woman damage" the offending man was
rarely brought before a court. He would be confronted
by the offended husband with evidence (i.e., if a wife
"confessed" the man). He could then be forced to
pay (cloth, goat, rice, leapard teat, et cetera) some-
thing in compensation. The man had to pay it all (a
leopard teat had to be paid if the wife was the wife
of a "big-man") before or on a certain date. If he
didn't, he would forfeit everything and had to begin
payment all over. After the "palaver" was finished
the woman would say, VI don't want my husband anymore."
And there would be complaints from all the family and
they would ask "who wants this woman?" and if the man
who had married her said he did, the damage money would
be paid to him. It belonged to the husband, never to
the adulterer.

If a man took a virgin, she would be asked if she
wanted him or not, and either a marriage would follow
or not. Rape would be taken to the Ndormahei and the

14‘32

damage would be very high payment.

If a man wanted to farm another man's farm (never
owned privately) he had to ask permission and divide
the crop equally. If he did not ask, the case would
be taken by the plaintiff to the village headman, then
the headman would hear the evidence and Judge the case.
A man always brought witnesses, as in woman palaver.

In any case involving compensation or payment,
swearing was used, either on a nomoli or on water and
salt which they drank. If a man lied he was found out.
If a man could not pay, he was put in stocks. Some-
times in serious cases a man could be made a slave and
sold for punishment.

To determine law or precedent in anything, there
would be a meeting of the elders. Old men would know
and remember precedents. _All types of punishment were
fixed by precedent. Even precedents for removing a
bad Ndormahei existed. Such a man would be broken,
all his wives and possessions could be taken-he would
be "nobody." He would lose everything.

A very evil man, who repeatedly committed offenses
could be banished, made an outlaw. He could not live
with society, and had to go into the bush or another
country. . ,

If a fugitive ran to another country there was a
means of getting him back (extradition). If necessary
they would make war, as in the case of a man going to

another country which protected him, but this was very
rare.

Abuja

a. From the testimony of Alhaji Hassan, Dallatu

of Abuja. An active and perceptive man in late middle

 

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l#53

age, Alhaji Hassan was a primary informant during my field
work in Abuja. His own testimony includes more than twenty-
five pages of manuscript, all of it detailed information

of the first order. He is also a co-author of the Chronicle.

 

It was through the Dallatu that all other interviews were

arranged with the approval of the Emir himself.

On the Hierarchy before the British and
Some Changes after 1902

 

Before the British, Habe government never included
the title Waziri. It was not in existence here until
later. It was a Fulani title. I believe it was Mr.
Morgan who introduced the first Waziri to rule with
the Sarki Muhamman Gani. The British appointed the
wrong person, Mallam Gambo. He was a Fulani from
Kano, not a native of Abuja. He was accepted only
out of necessity, not choice, because we Habe would
never accept any Fulani.

After Mallam Gumbo came Mallam Ahmadu, a Habe from
AbuJa. He was the last Waziri in Abuja. That ended
the title-~there have been none since.

The Turbaned Councillors

There was no direct change in these titles after
the British. Even the system of paying salaries did
not end the titles. Because people think those who
have titles are too important during ceremonies--
such as Sallah. . . . It is a matter of great pres-
tige. One of the things that declined, among the func-
tions, was the function of maintaining the compounds
which were assigned to the title holders. Only one

45“

still exists, the Sarauniya's Compound, which is
maintained now with the help of the Emir.

Many of the title holders still perform
specialized functions such as the Sarkin Fawa, Sarkin
Baka. The Sarkin Fawa still slaughters cattle in the
market. It is a special butcher's job.

The Sarkin Fada is now District Head in charge of
Abuja town. This was not so in the past. This changed
only with the appointment of the present title-holder.
He is also a member of the ruling family-~a son of
Musa Angulu. This is an example of an old title being
given to an important man in the present Native Admini-
stration, for purposes of prestige and honor. (The
Dallatu himself is a good example of this, he is
presently the Chief Councillor of the N.A. in charge
of local_government and community development.)

On the Chronicle and Its Background

During the reign of Musa Angulu (27 years) some
of the titles declined and disappeared. .No one saw
any benefit in holding the old titles. No one thought
then of the history and traditional value of the titles.
Some new titles were created such as Ciroma, Waziri,
which had not connection with Habe titles. So, when the
present Emir came to power, we were advised by a British
officer to do research into the history. .He suggested
to the Emir that now that he (the Emir) had two brothers
who were well educated teachers and historians, that
they should write a chronicle from the oral traditions
of the past days. We brought a few basic Hausa docu-
ments in Arabic script, and this was the basis for Habe
history. So, the Emir asked us to write a history of
the Habe, and we decided to start first with Abuja
history in Hausa. After a few years (Mallam Shuaibu was
often away except for his vacations from Kaduna), we got
the traditions together. We also asked that all the
old titles be revived in Abuja. People were very pleased

“55

about this. When we finished the writing, we also
approached the other existing Habe states, Daur and
Argungu (Kebbi) and asked for their cooperation to get
one complete book on the history of the Hausa states.
We got little encouragement from Daura or Argungu for
they sent only lists of rulers, not their history.

On the Pagan Peoples of the Emirate

 

The Pagans of present-day Abuja Emirate were
actually brought under the rule of the Habe before the
Fulani invasions in 180“. Old Zaria had conquered the
area all the way down to Ida.

Before the people of Abuja (the Habe from Zaria)
came here, they considered certain Pagan Chiefs as part
of the government. But not until after Abuja was an
independent Emirate did they take any real active part
in the government. Then the Village Heads of Izom, Juwa,
Kuje, et cetera, were consulted. At one time this prac-
tice extended all the way out to Lafia. When Abuja was
founded the Habe rulers kept what they could by force
of arms--and what they could also protect from raids by
Fulani Zaria. It was a Habe tradition to bring in who-
ever could help and this system was naturally extended
further in Abuja where Pagans predominated. It reached
the point where only two titles, Sarki and dan Galadima
were exclusively Habe, i.e., of the royal family of
Zazzau. ‘

On Religion

 

Religion in Abuja was not synonymous with govern-
ment as in Sokoto. When a pagan was involved in a
case, care was taken to judge according to his people's
customs. All serious crime, of course, was dealt with
according to Islamic law. One other example of where
Islamic law superceeded local Pagan custom is where the

1456

law of divorce (three months, prOper procedure, et
cetera) was made to apply to the Gwarin Yamma Who often
let a woman go for six months or so with another man,
yet the husband could still claim the issue of the

new union as his own. '

b. From the testimony of Mohammadu, the Limamin
Juma'a. This man is about eighty years old, still active
and politically alert. As the chief Mallam and spiritual
leader in Abuja he was the best informant on the historic

role of Islam in Abuja.

On the Role of Islam

Before the Zaria people came here to live after
the Fulani invasion there was no religion (meaning
Islam of course) among these people. A few villages
such as Jiwa, Zuba and Izom knew a little about Islam,
but most of the people were pagans. There were
occasional strangers who brought what little Islam
there was to the area.

It was spread by converting slaves who were captured
and brought to the town, and also some in the bush heard
the idea from the town people who went among them. No
organized effort was made. There were no teachers who
went to spread the faith. Those brought into Abuja
accepted Islam quickly because they lived among Muslims.
Often Pagans in towns like Izom would send their chil-
dren to the Mallams there for instruction, or to Abuja.
The others were converted privately by their brothers
who had accepted the faith.

“57

There were a few peOple in those days who could
speak a little Arabic (not a good Arabic). None could
speak fluent Arabic. However, the number of those
who could write ajami (Hausa in Arabic script) was
greater, though these were not many either.

If one was learned and could read and write and
sometimes teach, he was entitled to be called a
Mallam. No ignorant man was ever called Mallam.

There were regular communications by letter between
Mallams within the Emirate to others in other Emirates.

APPENDIX E

A TYPOLOGY FOR CLASSIFYING ORAL TRADITION’

 

 

Category Sub-Category Types

 

l. Formulae Titles
Slogans
Didactic Formulae
Ritual formulae

 

 

2. Poetry Official Historical (panegyric)
Private Religious
Personal
3. Lists Place-names

Personal names

 

 

4. Tales Historical General
Local
Family
Didactic Aetiological myths
Aritisic Aritisic
Personal Personal memories
5. Commentaries Legal Precedents
Auxiliary Explanatory
Sporadic Occasional comments

 

*J. Vansina, Oral Tradition, p. 21.
“58

 

4|v~

 

“59

Sequence in chain of trans-
mission of an oral tradition

Fact or event

+
Observer + initial or proto testimony

+
the hearsay account or testi-

Chain of transmission + mony forming a link in the

j chain

Final informant + lastor final testimony
+

Recorder + earliest written record

Some comments from Vansina's
Oral Tradition

. . . one of the historians' tasks is to find
out to what extent a testimony is affected by
. . . social, cultural and personal factors

(p. 76).

Most oral texts . . . have an internal pattern
of arrangement. . . it is set forth in accor-
dance with certain rules. . . . Even non-formal,
free texts have an internal structure (p. 57).

. . . a capacity for critical judgment does
exist among peoples without writing, but it
is not applied to tradition (p. 103).

 

V.

M60

Cultural History . . . methods used by ethnologists
when they attempt to establish the relationship between
two cultures and the evolution each has gone through
by comparing the cultural traits common to both (p. 176).

(It is important) . . . to assess how much of the
testimony relates to observed facts, but will also be
interested in possible deviation in the accounts of the
facts and in the reasons for their presense, because
the way distortions come about can throw a great deal
of light on the existing social and cultural backgrounds
of the informants who introduce them, and may . . .
provide information about the past (p. 76).

Most group testimonies are official testimonies
that reflect the basic interests of the society con-
cerned (p. 78).

Testimonies which are not aimed at recording
history are the most reliable because the infor—
mant has no reasons for falsification (p. 80).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A. Primary Sources

1. In Sierra Leone the problem of gathering
source material for any original research on the colonial
and pre-colonial period is complicated by the scarcity
of primary documents which have reference to the local
areas. Of course the recent acceptance of oral tradition
(as outlined in the first chapter, and in the appendix)
as valid material for historical studies has opened up
a vast and as yet largely untapped resource. Extensive use
of these traditions was therefore a primary technique in
this study, and approximately half of the sources used
were oral in nature. In the text these sources have been
cited where necessary, by references to the town in which
they were gathered, the name of the informant, and the
date of recording. Examples of some of these in complete

form can be seen in Appendix D.

 

“61

1462

Manuscript sources for Sierra Leone are very

uneven, depending on whether they have been classified in

the National Archives at Fourah Bay College, or whether

they are still unsorted in boxes either at the Archives

or in various Provincial or District Office files. Those

located in the National Archives are listed below, along

with unsorted and scattered documents in the local offices.

a.

b.

Sierra Leone Archives (Freetown). (Ref. SLA)
(There is an incomplete catalogue in the
University Library.)

M33 in the University College Archives.

1)

2)

3)

Native_Affairs Minute Papers, No. 1—500
(mostly unclassified).

_Confidential Native Affairs Letter-

books, H3. 1-12.

Colonial Reports, 1887-1912.

 

Records in Provincial qupkKenema.

 

1)

2)

Correspondence File. (Contains notes,
petitions, receipts, references to other
files and scattered minute papers.)

 

Old Pendembu District Decree Books
going back to establishment of Protectorate,
continuing up to late 1930's.

 

H63

c. Records in Kailahun Distrigt Office.

 

l) Decree Books. (incomplete)

 

2) Minute Papers. (unsorted)

 

3) Correspondence Files. (unsorted)

 

The series described as Native Affairs Minute Papers

apd Confidential Native Affairs Letterbooks are the most

 

important for the period before 1900, and contain innumer-
able comments by the most important colonial officials at
the time. Often because the letters are outgoing correspon-
dence to the Colonial Office, they are one-sided in their
content and do not include the invaluable responses found

in the P.R.O. (London). Their chief value lies in the
insights they provide into local conditions at any given

time in the Protectorate. The Colonial Reports are useful

 

summaries of the most important events as seen by the

highest colonial officials in their annual reports.

Documents still located in Provincial and District
Offices are most useful for their information about local
matters, even down to the individual chiefdom level and
below. These papers are, however, difficult to find, often

in extremely delicate condition and sometimes illegible.

 

 

 

...I

usu

On occasion they are sorted and carefully stored for easy
access. The raw data they contain, such as maps, statis-
tics, assessments and the like, make them well worth

the effort to dig them out.

Other primary sources are found in the Registrar-

General's Office in Freetown. They include, the Recorder's

 

Court Records and Grant Books. Also found in the Special

 

Collection on Sierra Leone at the University College Library,

 

are the Blue Books, records of the Legislative and Executive

 

 

 

Council, a nearly complete collection of the Annual Reports

 

from each Province, and the invaluable Sierra Leone Royal
Gazette, from which most of the information on Ordinances

and Proclamations was derived.

Finally there are the abundant materials published
by the Government Printing Office in Freetown. These

include: the Censuses, Siegra Leone Sessional Papers,

 

 

and such vital documents as the Commission of Inquirngeports,

 

such as that of the Cox Commission in 1956.

2. There are of course more primary documents

deposited in the P.R.O. in London than any place in West

 

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Q65

Africa. The extent of the field research in this study
made it impossible to use these documents extensively.
Only about two weeks were alloted to these, which included
the following:
a. Colonial Office Records
1) C. O. 267 Series, Despatches, etc.
(Protectorate of Sierra Leone, Comments

on Hut-tax War, Letter from Blyden).

2) C. O. 270 Series, 1898-1901, Minutes
of Executive Council. Sierra Leone.

3) C. O. 300 Series, Despatches, etc.
(Protectorate of Sierra Leone).

h) C. O. ““6 Series, Despatches, etc.
(Protectorate of Northern Nigeria).

3, In Northern Nigeria the records in the
National Archives in Kaduna were the most useful and
abundant of the primary sources used in this study.
These are cited in the text as KNA, meaning Kaduna
National Archives, and they are in excellent condition
compared to those in Sierra Leone. Most of them are now
sorted and classified. They include the following:

a. Nigerian National Archives (Kaduna),
(Ref. KNA)

l) Minprof series 1-7.

2) SNP Series lS/l (Unnumbered Subject
F1188). NO. 7A‘3ulo

M66

3) SNP Series 15/2 No. 367.
A) SNP Series l7/8 No. 9216-9386.
5) SNP Series 17/9 No. 58.

6) Colonial Reports, 1900-1913.

 

Of the above, the series described as Minprof and §§§ are
the most important for the period between 1900 and 191“.
Again, these are mostly locally oriented reports, out-
letters, and occasionally correspondence between the

High Commissioner, other senior officers of the colonial
government and local officers in the field. These are,
almost without exception, valuable documents because they
contain detailed analysis and data about the individual
areas in question. They provide information about the
officers themselves as well as about the individual
Provinces, Divisions and Districts. The Colonial Reports
are helpful as summaries.

Other primary documents which are useful in any
study of Indirect Rule include the bound volume called
Annual Reports: Northern Nigeria 1900:11, the Nigerian
Gazette, the Colonial Office List,p1910, The Nigerian

Handbook, the Blue Books, Annual General Reports, and

 

 

 

U67

the Estimates. All of these latter are Nigerian Govern-

 

ment publications most of which can be purchased from the
printing office, and all of which are found in the Library
at Ahmadu Bello University, the small Library at the
National Archives in Kaduna, and in other university

libraries.
B. Secondary Sources

Of the several books on West Africa in the period
from about 1890 to 1914 there are only a limited number
which deal specifically with Sierra Leone (particularly
Mendeland), and with Northern Nigeria. I have chosen to
list here only those which have been directly useful in
this study, and my comments are intended to deal with
the books only as references for this specific period of

time. A few general references are included.

1. Sierra Leone.

 

Two of the most informative and knowledgeable
books on Sierra Leone are those by T. J. Alldridge, The
Sherbyo and Its Hinterland, London, 1901., and A Transformed

Colony, London 1910. Both of these have been cited in the

U68

text, the first rather extensively. Perhaps no early
observer of the scene was as objective, as careful, and
as fair as Alldridge. These are both highly recommended
to any serious student of the late 19th Century in

Sierra Leone as well as the early colonial period.

Perhaps the only book available on the subject
of the Frontier Force in Sierra Leone is the study by

R.P.M. Davis, History_of the Sierra Leone Battalion of the

 

ngal West African Frontier Force, Freetown, 1932. This

 

is useful only as a detailed account of the campaigns.

The most prolific and able of Sierra Leone's
historians is Christopher Fyfe. He has written two books
in particular which are among the most valuable on this

subject. His definitive study, A Historyof Sierra Leone,

 

Oxford, 1962., is an enormous accomplishment which covers
the colony from its earliest days up to 1900. Its only
serious lacking is that it had no headings for the
chapters (thus no table of contents) and no listed foot-
notes, though there is an adequate listing by page in the

References. As a supplement to this informative study is

“69

Fyfe's, Sierra Leone Inheritance, Oxford, 196A. This

 

latter book is a collection of documents telling the story
of Sierra Leone in the words of the people who made her
history. Both of these are scholarly and literally crammed

full of information of the most detailed sort.

The most comprehensive ethnographic study of the
Mende people to date is Kenneth Little's, The Mende of

Sierra Leone, London, 1951. This is an especially useful

 

book for it is straightforward as well as carefully
researched. For anyone studying either the social or
political organization of the Mende it is an absolute
necessity. There are repeated citations from this book
in the text.

F.W.H. Migeod's, A View of_Sierra Leone, London,
1926., is interesting for its author's comparative views
of the Mende. Migeod had served in Abuja Division of
Northern Nigeria as well, and was an accomplished linguist
who wrote several other books on the Mende language. He
‘was obviously a practiced observer.

The most impressionistic and least objective book

of those used extensively for this study is by C. B. Wallis,

 

 

r:
.0.

1';

 

£2

 

1470

The Advance of Our West African Empire, London, 1903. The
title says a good deal about the book itself. Wallis
wrote rather melodramatically of his own experiences in
the Mende Rising of 1898 and left a clouded if valuable
record of that event. As a personal experience it is
interesting, as a history it is not worth much.

2. Nigeria

The most widely read general history of Nigeria
is Sir Alan C. Burns, History of Nigeria, London, 1956.
This fairly thick volume is perhaps the best synthesis
to date. It suffers somewhat from the author's rather
obvious commitment to the Colonial "Establishment” in
Nigeria, but it is accurate and on the whole very readable.

Probably the most popular synthetic view of
Nigeria's history in recent years is Michael Crowder's
The Stopypof Nigeria, London, 1962. Not as complete as
the Burns study, this very readable book is nevertheless
more reliable as a general history for it places the colonial
‘period in proper perspective with Nigeria's fascinating
earlier history.

A useful book on the conquest and consolidation of

(Nigeria by the British is by Sir William N. M. Geary,

“71

Nigeria Under British Rule, New York, 1965. Written by
an unabashed Imperialist, this is a rather legalistic
account, as one would expect from a barrister. It is
something of a subtle apology for imperialism in Africa,
yet not without a sort of tongue-in-cheek humor.
A_Chronic1e of Abuja, Lagos, 1962, is written by
two natives of Abuja, Alhaji Hassan and Mallam Shuaibu
Na'ibi. Both authors are brothers of the present Emir,
long-standing title—holders in Abuja, and steeped in the
knowledge of their country's past. This little book is
perhaps the single most valuable source used in my study
of Abuja. Its translator Frank Heath was a long-time
resident of the Emirate and also knew its history well.
Both of the authors are still active men, Alhaji Hassan is
presently Dallatu, and is a high official in the local N.A.
Mallam Shuaibu Na'ibi is an important civil servant in the

Ministry of Education in Kaduna.

Another general work on Nigeria is Thomas Hodgkin's,
Nigerian Perspectives, Oxford, 1960. This is an anthology
covering more than eight centuries of history in what is

now Nigeria. It is cleverly edited to provide a panoramic

l#72
look at a rather glorious history, and exhibits the touch
one expects from Hodgkin.
One of the most comprehensive studies on Northern

Nigeria is S. J. Hogben and A.H.M. Kirk-Greene, The

Emirates of Northern Nigeria, London, 1966. This is the

 

most definitive work to date on the Hausa States and their
historical background. It is an invaluable source book
as well as a standard guide to the individual Emirates.
Mr. Hogben, who wrote the first part, has revised his
earlier work The Muhammadan_Emirates of Nigeria in this
joint volume, bringing the work up to date. Mr. Kirk-
Greene who was once a D.C. in Northern Nigeria has
collaborated very successfully with Hogben on the second
part to produce a very impressive job. The book is
especially good on the background to the Islamic
states and their connection with the larger history of the
Sudan.

A.H.M. Kirk-Greene has also authored another
valuable book, The Principles of Native Administration in

Nigeria: Selected Documents 1900-1997, London, 1965. Now

 

a professor at the Institute of Administration, Ahmadu

 

 

 

“73

Bello University, Mr. Kirk-Greene has here compiled an
anthology of some of the most basic documents which
were behind the practice of British Indirect Rule in
Nigeria. The Introduction is a most informative and
incisive guide to these documents, as well as to the whole
question of the ideas and the polities.behind the actual
practice of colonial government in Nigeria.

The Dual Mandate in British Trppical Africa, London,
1965, by Lord Lugard, is the great imperialist's most
comprehensive work. First published in 1922, this weighty
volume is a testimony both to Lugard's profound knowledge
of Africa, and to his ability to concentrate a great deal
of hard work and personal insight into a short span of
time (two years in writing) and space. The more than 600
pages are crammed with data and information about the
annexation and government of tropical Africa by the British,
Even the revealing prejudices are valuable for the in-
sight they give into Lugard's own character and beliefs.
As a justification for Imperialism it is a formidable
document. Margery Perham's Introduction is also worth

reading.

H7“

Probably no single book provides as intimate a look
at the typical colonial field officer as does M. M. Mahood's
Joyce Cagy's Africa, London, 196A. A study of Cary's own
experiences as C. S. Officer in Northern Nigeria, this
fine book concentrates on the famous writer's letters to
his wife, his sketches of fellow officers, descriptions
of the land and people and his own growth as a man and as
a writer. It also provides a look-at the creative process
that is rarely found in the capious critical writings on
modern authors. The aspects of this brief but brilliant
book are too many to mention here and still do it justice.

Captain C.W.J. Orr's, The Making of Northern Nigeria,

 

London, 1911, is an interesting view of the history of the
colonial conquest as presented by a former Colonial Officer.
It was written close enough to the events described that

it has a certain immediacy.

The well known African scholar Margery Perham has
written at least two works of great value to the student of

Northern Nigeria. Lugard, the Years of Authority: 1898-H5,

 

London, 1960, is the second volume of the definitive bio-

graphy of Lord Lugard which is one of the best biographies

“75

in recent years. It is a necessity for any real under-
standing of Lugard's life and works, as well as his years

in Nigeria. Native Administration in Nigeria, London, 1962,

 

also by Marjery Perham is a thorough source for details
about the development of Native Administration in Nigeria
and the differences in the policy from area to area. It
is another of those necessary references for any study of
the colonial period._

The most valuable and scholarly monograph on
political change in Northern Nigeria from the pre-Fulani
period up through the British occupation, is M.G. Smith's,
Government in Zazzau, London, 1960. This book was used
more.extensively in this study than any other. It is a
penetrating analysis of government in Zaria from 1800 to
1950, but it is also a document in itself. Though it only
deals with Abuja in one chapter, I found it the single most
useful book of all those cited here.

3. General

M. Fortes and E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Africian Political

S stems, London, 1964, is a useful reference on African

political institutions. The comparative treatment of the

476

types of social organization in a variety of African
societies and the accompanying analysis provided part

of the conceptual framework for this study. Edited with
an introduction by two of the foremost British anthro-
pologists who specialize on Africa, this anthology
presents the essence of the field work on political and
social institutions by several anthropologists.

Yesterdayis Rulers, Syracuse, 1963, by Robert

 

Heussler is a much needed study of the British Colonial
Service with particular emphasis on Africa. An examina-
tion of the methods of recruitment and training used by
the Colonial Service, as well as the ideas behind the
service, this book provides an impressive yet detached
view of the men who made the Empire.

Mary Kingsley's vital book,West African Studies,

 

London, 1901, is Opinionated, impressionistic, and highly
entertaining; yet remarkably informative on the policies,
the blunders, the ideals and the details of British
Colonialism in West Africa at the turn of the century.
Though it provides little of direct value in a study of

this sort, it is valuable as a general introduction to the

“77

whole question of Imperialism and its application to the
West Coast of Africa.

Another important anthropological study of govern-
ment in Africa is Lucy Mair's Primitive Government,
Baltimore, 196“._ Though rather too general for any
specific details about individual groups, such as the
Hausa or the Mende (neither of which are included), the
book is a valuable guide to any comparative study of
governmental change in Africa.

Africa and the Victorians: The Official Mind of
Imperialism, London, 1961, by Robinson, Gallagher and
Denny is one of the most controversial books on Imperialism
in recent decades. It is nevertheless, probably the most
important study of that phenomena in Africa to date.

The Historian in Trppical Africa, London, 196“,

 

edited by J. Vansina, R. Mauny and L. V. Thomas, is a use-
ful compendum of scholarly articles in French and English
which describe the problems facing the modern historical
scholar in Africa. It also includes examples of works

by scholars who have done successful research using the

latest techniques.

 

 

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“78

J. Spencer Trimingham's classic study, Islam in

 

West Africa, Oxford, 1959, is a must for any under-
standing of the nature of the great religion in West
Africa, its origins and its historical significance. As
a background to a study of the Islamic states of Northern
Nigeria it is an invaluable guide.

Perhaps the most important work on oral tradition

that has been done to date is J. Vansina's Oral Tradition:

 

A Study in Historical Methodology, Chicago, 1965. Vansina's
study provided much of the framework for the field study
upon which this study has been based. .Its detailed treat-
ment of the many attitudes towards oral tradition, the

types of transmission, the variety of testimonies, the
typology of and the methods of analysis are vital to any

work of this nature.
C. List of Periodical Literature Consulted

Clark, W.R.E. "The Foundation of the Luawa Chiefdom,"
Sierra Leone Studies, No. XVII, (1932).

 

d'Azevedo, W. "Uses of the Past in Gola Discourse,”
Journalfiof Afrigan History, Vol. 3 (1962).

 

Hollins, N.C. "A Short History of Luawa Chiefdom,"
Sierra Leone Studies, No. XIV (1929).

 

“79

 

Hollins, N.C. "Mende Law," Sierra Leone Studies, No. XII
(1928). 8—

Little, Kenneth L. "Mende Political Institutions in
Transition," African Affairs, Vol. 52 (1954).

 

Malcolm, J.M. "Mende Warfare," Sierra Leone Studies,
No. XXI (1939).

 

Smith, M.G. ”Field History Among the Hausa," Journal of
African Histogy, Vol. 1 (1961).

 

 

Vansina, J. "Recording the Oral History of the Bakuba,"
Journal of Afgican History, Vol. I and II (1961).

 

D. Unpublished Manuscripts

Bond, G.C. The Contemporarprosition of Chiefs in Sierra
Leone with Special Reference to the Mende and
Temne. Unpublished N.A. Thesis, London, School
of Economics, 1962.

 

 

 

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