:HE TRLC‘ELRMG PROCE 88 F. A A AM ! ALL AGE I DISSERTANON FOR THE DEGREE 9E ' mac mp OF A~A AS°A«¥ “NCAA SUM: i. AENWEESETY HERBERT W. AJAER 1§7A "Flili 1|Ifl;;}lli;;;jllr * {E;gllll"’lllf'alllf“‘1lll' ‘I-I I} Date ’/. 0'54 [7/6/22 This is to certify that the thesis entitled THE STRUCTURING PROCESS IN A MOSSI VILLAGE presented by HERBERT W. BUTLER has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for Ph.D. Anthropology degree in 214%“... Major professor 15 November 1974 0-7 639 ABSTRACT THE STRUCTURING PROCESS IN A MOSSI VILLAGE By Herbert W. Butler This study seeks to satisfy two primary aims. The first is an examination of the dynamics of social and cultural process in a Mossi village in the Republic of Upper Volta, West Africa. This takes place over a period of nearly one hundred years prior to 1970. Attention is directed at those social statuses and structures which command greatest resources and which control public decision making. The chiefship, therefore, is of particular interest and constitutes a major aspect of the study. However, in more recent times non—indigenous social struc- tures share the above named functions and thus become a significant part of the investigation as well. The result is an examination of evolving foci of social structuring in the village, designated as the "structuring process". A second primary aim was to present and implement a particular method of observing and interpreting field data. This is conceptualized as the "social phase development" methodology. This includes a number of key concepts: "social field", "resources", "supports" and the "available relevant field environment" (ARFE) which give direction and coherence to action. The period covered by the study was viewed in six separate stages, which represented six relatively discrete but connected "social processes". Each process was observed as moving through six Herbert W. Butler "phases". Resource distribution and support structure were assessed and marshalled by various actors representing different structural foci in the field. Action was always directed toward or somehow related to some socially relevant goal shared among all or some actors in the field. Each stage was concluded with a new allocation of resources and a changed configuration of support to some degree. After a preliminary introduction to the general aspects of the study and the people, the methodology and more significant concepts are outlined and discussed in Chapter Two. The "phases" are noted: positing a publicly shared goal in a social field, an initiating focal event, assessing the social relationships and relative support, marshalling further resources and therefore support, the resolution of the process, and finally, the reassessment of resource distribution in the field. Before applying the method to the data which was gathered, the historical background of the Mossi generally and of the environs of Ténga specifically are related. This, plus subsequent chapters on aspects of social structure provide the necessary backdrop for the actual examination of the dynamics of social and cultural process within the above-mentioned methodological framework. This is done in Chapter Eight where we move stage-by-stage, phase-by-phase through time and through the restructuring process. The relative monopoly of command over resources and over decision making moves from a rather uni-centric indigenous focus to a multi-centered, diffuse phenomenon today where various leaders, and particularly religious ones, hold positions of public dominance in respect to rather large segments of the public. A number of substantive results become evident. Societies do not Herbert w. Butler "break down" or dissolve in any absolute sense; a new synthesis is simply realized with different concentrations of resources and power developing. This may not mean of course that one period necessarily sees a new monopoly over these developing; structuring may be diffused, multi—centric. In addition, new conditions produce new meanings and mean- ings are not necessarily shared equally by all in the field. Third, as culture changes new roles emerge. These become involved in the ongoing social order and marshalling process and may become a mobilized re- source for diverse ends. Where new roles and social norms appear contradictory to others in the field, boundary phenomena are simplified and selective compliance ensues in order to retain maximal social solidarity and support for persons and for social structures. Diffuse ties give way to simplex or functionally specific ones. As newer structures consolidate, however, these latter tend to lead to a new set of diffuse or"multiplex" ties based on different principles. The utility of this method is seen in its potential for examining statuses, structures and events of diverse types operating not as labelled entities (e.e. economic, religious, political) and to which inappropriate qualities are attributed, but as elements caught up in the social process (and thus become elements in a social field) whose focus is some socially shared goal. The broad category, resources (and the implemented resource, support), may include anything (e.g., persons, material goods, "rules", customs, services, influence) which contributes to the attainment of the goal in question. The epi—phenomenon of the purposive striving and the existent realities in the field is the "structuring process" and the particular social structures and cultural Herbert W. Butler features that a synchronic structuralist analysis might abstract at any given moment. The intent of this study is to show how these structures develop, on the local level particularly. THE STRUCTURING PROCESS IN A MOSSI VILLAGE By 0c“ \ .‘\ ' Herbert H. Butler A THESIS Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of Anthropology 197h ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This thesis could not have been possible without the kind and gener- ous assistance of certain agencies and a number of individuals who were willing to contribute their resources, skills, advice and encouragement. This study was carried out from June 1969 to June 1970 under a research grant provided by the National Institute of Mental Health, Wash- ington, D.C. I wish to recognize particularly the assistance of Bela Maday but also the entire staff of those in this agency which contributed efforts on behalf of this project. I especially wish to acknowledge the counsel and guidance of my head thesis advisor, Dr. William Derman. Showing extraordinary patience through a rather long period of preparation, he gave long hours from a heavy schedule of writing and teaching to read and suggest important changes. The other members of my committee, Professors Charles Morrison and John Hinnant, have taken time from other extremely pressing duties to offer constructive criticism for which I am grateful. For the inadequacies of this study I claim full responsibilities; for any measure of co— herence and focus which it may possess, the probing questions and suggest- ions of these men is in great part reSponsible. Other former faculty members of Michigan State University have exerted considerable influence upon my thinking and thus upon this thesis. Probably none has done so more than Dr. Marc Swartz whose teaching and writings gave direction and form to my research. I am.particularly indebted to him as former iii chairman of my thesis committee for preparing me for field research and for his guidance and assistance in reSpect to procuring financial assistance for my research. Professor Alfred Hudson and Ralph Nicholas also gave of their time and expertise to be of invaluable assistance. Administrative matters were efficiently eXpedited by departmental chair- men Dr. Moreau Maxwell and Dr. Bernard Gallin and their staffs. I am indebted to my colleagues at Western Illinois University and particularly do I acknowledge the most helpful comments and suggested changes which Dr. Robert Morey contributed. My fellow students at Michigan State University and my own students since then all have pro- vided a stimulating and positive influence on my thinking and writing. An individual that casts a rather long and important show across my path is Dr. Elliott Skinner of Columbia University, an acquaintance of several years. Both as anthropologist and later as U. S. ambassador to Upper Volta, his seminal writings have constituted a sound contribution to Mossi ethnography. My debt to him lies particularly in the fact that he Opened up several areas of inquiry for others like myself to pursue. As I began the process of preparing for the field, the extremely congenial assistance of Monsieur Hama Arba Diallo, first secretary of the embassy of Upper Volta in Washington, D.C. was deeply appreciated. After my arrival in the country, Monsieur Moise Lankoande, Minister of National Education, graciously authorized my research in Upper Volta. The district administrators at Kbupela were also cooperative in assisting me in several ways. I am particularly grateful to several functionaries who took the time to discuss their views of social change. This provided a kind of background which gave the immediate problems of research 0 1V clearer meaning. The director, Monsieur Marcel Poussi and the personnel of the Centre Voltaiqpe dg_Recherche Scientifique in Ouagadougou could not have been kinder or more generous in their assistance. The facilities of the Center were made available to me as was also a place of lodging during my visits to the capital. A figure that looms importantly in the recent history of Upper Volta is Monsieur Zoungrana, Chief of Koupela. This extraordinary gentleman efficiently plays roles both of indigenous chief of considerable import- ance and of évolué leader of economic and social change. Naaba Zéare, as he is entitled, was especially cooperative, permitting me to work wherever I chose within his chiefdom. In addition he permitted his ministers to share with me their knowledge of Mossi life and history. One of them, the Kamba Naaba, was an especially rich source of assistance. Well educated and at the same time a member of the Mossi political system, his knowledge of persons and events--and willingness to share this--was invaluable. Prior to my arrival on the field I had gained a fluency in the local language, More, and in the national language, French, sufficient to con- verse with relative ease with persons speaking either language. However, More is a language rich in metaphors, proverbs and regional idioms. In- formants were therefore invaluable in assisting with fuller interpretation of the data. Accompanying me to Ténga Was a young man from near Ouagadou- gou, Hamado Bountougou,who began as cook and wash boy but who became a faithful, confidant and shrewd informant. His assistance was unique and invaluable. Often he performed as a "culture broker" between the anthr0pologist and the peOple. Undoubtedly, my faux pas which were V numerous and offensive enough as it was, would have undoubtedly reached greater proportions had it not been for the cool and wise head of Hamado. We learned many things together and I rest in his debt. After a preliminary visit to the area and a chat with the chief and people at Ténga, I decided that this village would serve the purpose of my research very well. It was in many respects a "typical" Mossi village, committed to Mossi custom in most important reSpects. On the other hand, there was a man-made water reservoir, recently constructed; and there were two flour mills at the edge of a rather important market place. There was also a school in the center of town. A mosque and a new Catholic church took prominence along the main road passing through the village. There was, in a word, much evidence of change as well as stability. This was more-or-less what I had in mind when I came to the field. I arrived in the middle of the rainy season and was placed in a vacated round adobe house with thatched roof in the yard of the chief--the best they could offer me. The chief and his family showed to me the matchless Mossi hospitality which many a traveller has come to appreciate so much. Here I shared not only a place in the compound but also their food as well. I was invited to be one with them in most of life's experiences: the laughter, teasing, family disagreements, gossip, serious palavors and even some Judicial proceedings which were conducted beside the compound. The chief and the people of the village never seemed to understand completely my reasons for coming in spite of my efforts to explain that I wanted to learn about their past and their dogem miki (custom) for in many respects an anthropologist is an anomaly, for which there is no parallel status in Mossi culture. For this reason vi my debt of gratitude for their cooperation for the year I was with them is very great since it exhibited a great deal of trust and forebearance as well. The problems that I wished to study were of such a nature and about a level of social organization so local and personal that I was (and am) faced with a difficult dilemma in writing up the results. I wished to make the research as empirically sound as possible, yet I have been concerned about respecting the privacy of these whose lives contributed so much to this research. Few in the village are sufficiently acquainted with principles involving ethnographic research. On the other hand, pro- fessional ethics hardly permit my writing about them by name without their express permission. Therefore, the most reasonable solution for me has been to write as accurately as possible about the facts of this village which indeed exists, yet at the same time seek to assure anony— mity for the people involved. Thus I have given the village a pseudo- nym--Ténga (meaning literally Ythe town" or ”the village"), and I have changed the names of all the persons in the village to pseudonyms as well. Above the village level, names of places and persons are accurate, however. To the peOple of Ténga I will ever owe my deepest gratitude. Antoine, the chief, had problems enough in his effort to play the role of Mossi chief in a very changing situation filled with stress. I fear my presence in his yard often exacerbated this problem. Old Tendaogo knew much of the past, but some was controversial and a "good Mossi" tends to be quiet about such things which can divide brothers and neighbors. One part- time informant, Ibrahim, was particularly valuable. Some elders, not V11 quite convinced of my honest intentions, had misgivings about Ibrahim's role with.me. In spite of this the latter made a solid contribution to this study, providing information which I would not have otherwise received. The leaders of the Christian and Moslem communities were men of great strength and understanding and contributed much from their broader experience. I admired them greatly as did most of the villagers apparently. Although contacts during this year of research were few with personnel of the Catholic Mission, I profited considerably from several encounters with them and from unpublished notes on the Mossi which they made available to me. Although the Protestant Mission was not found in or near Ténga, American, French and Voltan personnel of the mission provided important background data and other insights into the problems which I was pursuing. To them all I express my sincere thanks. Finally, I wish to thank my wife, Marguerite, for her patience during this lengthy time of preparation. I am grateful to her for the long hours of typing of the manuscript. My children Sandra, Mary, Patrick and Paul also have shown much forebearance but have been my most unfailing encouragement and inspiration. viii LIST OF CHAPTER I. II. III. IV. VI. VII. VIII. IX. FIGURES . . . INTRODUCTION TABLE OF CONTENTS THE SOCIAL PHASE DEVELOPMENT . THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT . . . . MOSSI KINSHIP: THE LINEAGE . THE MOSSI VILLAGE . . . . . . . THE VILLAGE OF TENGA . . . . . KOUPELA: A RELEVANT FIELD ENVIRONMENT THE STRUCTURING PROCESS IN TENGA CONCLUSIONS . FOOTNOTES . . GLOSSARY . . BIBLIOGRAPHY 11 PAGE 15 7o 95 11h 13A 152 158 238 280 288 290 Figure 10. ll. l2. 13. 1h. 15. 16. LIST OF FIGURES Map of Upper Volta . . . . . . . . . Map of language groups . . . . . . . . Women carrying grain from fields . . . Winnowing grain . . . . . . . . . . . Flailing grain . . . . . . . . . . . . New possibilities for better crops are advertised at a district fair . . . . Planting in line is an innovation . . Cotton thread from Upper Volta industrial looms . . . . . . . . . . Loading out local cotton for the world market. Pouring a libation to the local naam tibo . . Offering the yearly sacrifice to the founder of the village . . . . . . . . A temporary house for the spirits of the deceased . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A sacrifice is offered at the door of the deceased at his kure . . . . . . . . Prayers at the close of the annual Moslem month of fasting . . . . . . . . . . . The redistribution of alms after a Moslem prayer (dogga) . . . . . . . . . . . Court ggiots who chant the geneologies and exploits of Koupela chiefs . . . . X Page xi xii 271 272 272 273 273 27h 27h 275 275 276 276 277 277 278 Figure 17. l8. 19. LIST OF FIGURES Drumming to give the cadence to communal work. . 278 Widow,s head being shaved at the kure for her deceased husband before going to a younger kinsman O O O C C I O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O 2 7 9 Change is sometimes painful and fraught with uncertainty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 Xla I\.. l! f IL.'I‘IIIIIII‘[}'} {Elli {[‘Illlr‘L xi POPULATIONS OF THE VGJA BASIN FROM IZARD 1970 — W I‘ """"B; PM" ouLooou ' ' -~.....u“~, / z / KURUMBA umxo Ono‘s...”- Fulbe I g . .. g; g ' '0 0 e . e . O. I/ .9 Volta e M O S S l GOURWTCHE 4)? WAGAIDOUGOU \ I! O 0’6 NINA \\ \ ///// 4 \ GURUNSI ‘ %/% vans“. J \ ~ ‘ // .0 ’ “SEA / . l .— -n 515‘“ “m”; fimmN‘AMNM :0. m \ \ {BUILSA 0mm \ \ Amman .,, ‘ J \ . / l , '. 3' DAGOMBA'g, . g 7’ rmeausu v a 1K “MA can NANU Bk L....:°”'”"" W/d W05 §:::§ cum F18 2 Map 01' 181101889 group in the Volta Basin. xii INTRODUCTION Man adapts to the specific conditions of his immediate and general environment. On the other hand, he tends to create for himself a relatively stable world of conventionalized patterns of behavior and thought. Societies everywhere exhibit the dynamic of constant adaptation and change as well as the quality of structure and order. Taking cognisance of this dual aspect of human social and cultural process, the study herein attempts to deal simultaneously from both perspectives. It represents an effort to analyze what is termed herein the "structuring process". Its setting is in a Mossi village in the Republic of Upper Volta, West Africa. The study examines the dypamics of village social and cultural life, as well as the structural patterning which evolves through time. All of this is done within the framework of the social phase development methodological approach. The primary focus of the study will be around the village chiefship. However, several other institutional structures become increasingly involved in the total evolution of the village. It is not intended that this account be regarded primarily as a view of the social structure and process of a "typical" Mossi village. To be sure, in some ways it possibly is representative of Mossi villages generally but in certain other respects it is not. The study is offered rather as a means of examining a particular social and cultural "field", following the process through several years, and noting the nature of its evolution. 1 We learn some interesting things about a particular village; we may also abstract something of a broader nature in our study of Man. Hopefully, the observations and attempted explanation will prove useful in a threefold manner: to add a positive contribution to the study of the Mossi generally; to contribute to research of local level social, economic, political and ritual processes; and finally, to contribute toward a firmer base for studies of a broader and more abstract nature on social structure and social dynamics. I have chosen a Mossi village as the locus for the study for several reasons. First, there are few descriptive studies of the Mossi on the local level. A rare exception is J. Dubourg's brief synchronic article entitled "La vie des paysans Mossi: 1e village de Taghalla" (1957).1 By contrast, titles of the most significant and available works on the Mossi deal with them on a much broader and hence abstract scale. I digress for a moment to point out a few. Michael Izard's two volume Introduction l'Histoire des Royaumes Mossi, an historical analysis of the Mossi up to the colonial period represents an outstanding effort in ferreting out and synthesizing a remarkable body of data. L§_Droit Privé des Mossi: Tradition gt_Evolution by Robert Pageard brings together much new material on Mossi domestic institutional life. He writes from the special vantage point of one who has been obliged in some measure in his capacity of Jurist to deal extensively with Mossi custom and social structure. Pierre Ilboudo and Gomkoudougou V. Kabore, both Mossi, have made two commendable contributions to the ethnography of the Mossi. Monsieur Ilboudo describes Mossi beliefs and ritual in Croyances gt_Partiques Religieuses Traditionnelles des Mossi. Monsieur Kabore gives a picture of Mossi political structure, particularly of Ouagadougou in Organisation Politique Traditionnelle gt_Evolution Politique des Mpssi dg_0uagadougou. Research published in English on the Mossi has become available generally only in recent years. Elliott Skinner has provided an interest- ing account of the political develoPment of the Mossi up until the independence period in his book, The Mossi of the Upper Volta (196A). It does not draw high praise from Izard (1970:28) for any new historical insights, but the author brings together a number of primary sources to buttress his own field research in order to present the best treatment of the Mossi in English up to that date. Skinner has written perceptively on Mossi politics, social change, labor migration and marriage patterns (1960, 1961, 1962, 1963, 1970, 1972). Peter Hammond in his book, Yatenga, focuses upon Mossi modes of cultural adaptation to their particular bio- physical environment. In another study (1959) he writes of Mossi re- sistance to profound acculturation amidst major technological change. Dominique Zahan has given an interesting and rather simplified resumé of Mossi political structure, "The Mossi Kingdoms" in Forde and Kaberry's volume West African Kingdoms ip_the Nineteenth Century (1967). Yet all of the above works deal with the Mossi in broad strokes. One reason for this study is to seek to emphasize that social and cultural processes on the local level have a positive contribution to make as well in our understanding of the Mossi. The second reason for choosing a village site for this research is related to the above. Certain features are often neglected in generali- zations that become too broad. For example, it will be argued that too great an emphasis has been placed on the social role of the téngbiisi, the authochthonous people, an over—emphasis which local-level research might correct. As an added instance, while the actual dynamics of the Mossi social and political order reflects a state of ever "becoming", many studies present a picture of a rather static system (cf. Skinner 196A, Zahan 1967). This is somewhat illustrated where I comment on the putative role of ministers in Chapter Three as so-called "provincial chiefs"--a half-fact at best. What I seek to show by this method on a very local level could be applied, it would seem, to higher levels of organization in order to bring the evolving aspect of society and culture more into relief. The third reason for attacking the present problem in a limited milieu is to keep the level of abstraction low and to focus upon the empirical, behavioral level where verification may be more nearly possible as the method is applied. It should be pointed out that in the strictest sense the scope of the study is pop the village but the "field". A village among the Mossi (and possibly in most of Africa) is a very difficult entity to demarcate. It is in fact coincidental that the "field" for this study is a village (wherever the boundary might be) for as the following will show, a "field" may be of any dimension. The point to be made is that I have sought for a reasonably limited, and thus more manageable, spatial and social segment to examine. In this case it was roughly coterminous with the boundaries of Ténga. Throughout the following discourse I have made an effort to reflect conceptualizations employed by the people in the field. (Though I have generally employed English terms after seeking to explain their usage in the present context.) This will become evident in the discussion of such words as naaba, naam, soolem, ténga and buudu. Another reference to concepts should be made here. WOrds such as "Christian" and "Moslem" are terms with quite relative meaning as the discussion will show. They generally have little to do with the intensity or sophistication of the respective beliefs and practices of a person with such a designation. One of my informants from a Christian family, for example, assumed that his brother would become a Moslem sipgg_thg_ latter's body could p2_longer tolerate alcohol. Once such labels are applied they generate particular expectations among other persons in the field. They are therefore significant as social references but only in respect to the meanings held in the field at a given moment. Turning to the general plan of the study, I have introduced the theoretical orientation in Chapter Two. The "social phase development" method is outlined with a discussion of a number of concepts which are associated with it. It constitutes an effort to show particular advantages of this method over the more characteristic structuralist approaches in discovering and interpreting data. The third through seventh chapters provide background information and point out the broad regularities in Mossi culture in preparation for the eighth chapter where the above method is applied to the empirical data. Chapter Three introduces the historical backdrop for the study. A brief account of the beginning and evolution of the Mossi state is outlined in order to understand more clearly the role expectations, events and processes which occurred in Téngfi. Although the treatment is brief, it seeks to give the reader a "feel" of the development of the Mossi state and particularly those chiefdoms in the environs of Ténga. Kinship ties have been of vast significance in the social structure of Téngé. Therefore in Chapter Four we note some of the more important aspects of kinship structure and terminology among the Mossi, particularly do we examine the nature of the relationships within the patrilineage (bgggg). Later, as we observe the effort to mobilize support we note that such ties are of parmount importance in certain situations. Chapter Five constitutes a very generalized description of the structure of a Mossi village. The dominant statuses, institutions and activities are outlined. These reflect the kind of broad expectations which are shared among Mossi throughout the land among various slightly different subcultures. Turner has written that "before one can study breach, one must be aware of regularity" (l957:xvii). In Chapter Six I have sought to abstract the structure of social relations in Ténga itself, although even here along rather broad lines. This chapter deals in a more specific fashion with social regularities as well as variations in a particular village. This specific social context is presented with the intention of affording one a clearer and more meaningful view of the processes which unfold in the village as shown in Chapter Eight. One concept which is presented in Chapter Two is the "Available Relevant Field Environment" (ARFE). This concept represents those social areas and structures which environ a particular field. Chapter Seven provides a brief view of one --but a very important--aspect of the ARFE, some of whose features figure prominently in the field in Téngfi. It should be made clear that this part of the ARFE, while important to many events which occurred in the village, is presented more as an example of what an ARFE may be. In fact, however, one could regard the capital of Ouagadougou as part of this, as well as France in a somewhat indirect way. In Chapter Eight we turn to an examination of the processes unfold- ing in Ténga during the last hundred years. They are seen and given meaning by employing the methodology and concepts presented in Chapter Two. Six separate processes constitute six "stages". Each on unfolds through the six "phases" of the "social phase development". While we are viewing the social history of the village, the method permits us to assess the events in terms of the movement of resources and of support from one structural focus to another. In this way we follow the structur- ing process Of the village through time. From the findings of Chapter Eight, we come to certain conclusions in Chapter Nine and raise a few questions in respect to the methodology and particular concepts. The National Context The Mossi are the numerically dominant ethnic group in the Republic of Upper Volta, West Africa. Upper Volta is a landlocked nation in the interior of West Africa, bounded by Ghana, Togo, Dahomey, Niger, Mali, and Ivory Coast. It has a land surface of 105,838 square miles and a population of near 5,000,000. It is located in the Niger bend area, al- though its boundaries at no point extend to that river. As its name suggests, the sources of three Volta rivers are located in the country: the Red, the White and the Black Volta. Only the Black Volta flows the year round, and increases in volume as it flows southward to the profit of Ghana far more than of Upper Volta. The land is generally arid, more so in the extreme north than in the extreme southwest. Typical of the Sudanic region generally, the year is divided climatically into two seasons, wet and dry. The rainy season extends roughly from last April or early May until early October during which time most cultivation is accomplished. During the remainder of the year no rain falls at all. With the coming of the rains dry river beds, ponds and the relatively few man-made reservoirs quickly fill up. The dry landscape with its dormant vegetation is transformed into a lush green. Rainfall is generally abundant in July and August but the land is so flat and void of deep basins to conserve the water that much of it runs off, eroding away the soil and carrying away precious nutrients from it. Even in the wet season one cannot always depend upon rains being adequately spaced. The last few years have seen shorter rainy seasons also, result- ing in famine conditions in the northern regions particularly. Shortly after the last rains of the season the vegetation again. turns to a dry dormant light brown and the same rivers and depressions that have overflowed their banks for months now recede slowly into stagnant pools and in many places the water disappears completely, leaving the land dry and cracked. There is some variance in the length of these sea- sons between the north and the southwest. The northern regions may not see rainfall until July which in turn may cease as early as the last of September. Thus the rainfall in the country varies from near 50 inches in the south to about 15 inches at some points in the north each year. The national mean for precipitation would fall between 30 to 35 inches per year. The area around Koupela where this study was undertaken has a yearly rainfall in the neighborhood of this amount. Savanna grassland and low sparse deciduous forest characterize the terrain. Reflecting the rate of rainfall, trees become more sparse as one moves from the slightly more humid south to the dryer north. Most Of the country consists Of a rather monotonous, though slightly rolling plain situated on a plateau which varies generally from a little less than 1000 feet to about 1150 feet above sea level (Savonnet l965:3). A few somewhat isolated hilly ranges reach 1600 feet, however. Over 90% of the population depends on subsistence farming for its livlihood. These farmers live in scattered villages Of various sizes situated among Open areas of grain fields or uncultivated "bush". Only about 6% of the land is considered arable. This agricultural land generally consists Of a rather thin layer of gravelly red lateric soil with low humus content, overlaying ferruginous rock that lies exposed in many places over much of the land. Shifting agriculture is the primary mode Of cultivation, conducted even today to a large measure with the traditional hoe. Only in recent years has the employment of plows and draft animals been accepted by the population on any large scale. Even today communal hoeing seems to be the primary mode of cultivation in most areas. As a field becomes too impoverished to produce even a minimum yield it is left to lie fallow and another portion Of bushland is put into cultivation. There are a number of factors which make life increasingly precarious for these farmers: the rather unpredictable rains and the poor soil which is in short supply to begin with, population pressure which limits movement over the land, overgrazing the fields during the dry season, the practice of burning up nutrients during field clearing Opera- tions, and the traditional failure or inability to employ irrigation or to fertilize most fields except those small areas near the homesteads. The primary food crops are millet and sorghum, Peanuts, ground peas, corn, rice and root crops-~particularly manioc--are grown in significant 10 quantities but are of secondary importance. Chickens and guinea fowl are found everywhere. Sheep, goats and cattle are to be found over most of the country; the latter however are not characteristic of the average family. Horses, once the prized possession and status symbol Of chiefs and warriors, are no longer very numerous. Pigs are to be found in some areas but are relatively rare. The diet is supplemented by the use of wild fruits and leaves, though by no means Of the same quality nor quantity which their neighbors to the south enjoy in the Guinea forest area. Hunting and fishing accounts for a rather small percentage Of their food. The time of relatively few men is expended for these pursuits at the present. Cotton, peanuts, shea nut kernels, sesame seed and livestock--partic- ulary cattle--constitute the primary exports. Since the dry season permits little farming, Upper Volta has since colonial times furnished a vast supply of migrant labor to the plantations and industries in the coastal countries, particularly Ivory Coast and Ghana. This reservoir Of labor might well constitute the largest export Of the country. A number of diverse ethnic and linguistic groups make up the popu- lation. The Mossi are predominant, making up about half of the total inhabitants. They are located in the central region of the country and cover a much larger geographical area than any other ethnic group. Ouagadougou, the national capital, has been the dominant Mossi political and cultural center probably since the last few centuries. Other ethnic groups, (defined essentially by linguistic criteria) such as the Gourma, the Senoufo, the Lobi, the Bisa (and some other Mande speakers), two groups generally termed "Bobc" (but who are linguistically differentiated 11 from each other), three groups of "Gurensi" and the widely scattered Fulbe herders represent the more numerous of the minority peOples in the country. The Official language is French, the direct result Of the colonial period of French domination. More, the language of the Mossi, however, functions in many respects as the major lingua franca over much Of the country, due primarily tO the numerical dominance Of the Mossi plus the importance of Ouagadougou as an economic, political and cultural center for the entire country as a whole. Of tremendous importance to the present culture and political organization of the country is the presence Of the French. The latter established themselves as a colonial power in 1896 and 1897 in the area which was to become Upper Volta incorporating it into French West Africa. In 1919 Upper Volta became a separate colony. In 1932 it lost this status when for reasons Of economy the French administration partitioned the colony and arranged its piecemeal incorporation into Ivory Coast, Mali, and Niger. In l9h7 traditional chiefs and political leaders in the government exerted their influence upon the French and succeeded in bring- ing about its re-establishment as a separate colony again, regaining most of its lost territory. As part of the fast moving African drama Of the 1950's, in Upper Volta colonial status was changed to that of relative independence within the Franco—African Community in 1958. Finally, in 1960 Upper Volta became an independent republic. Execu- tive power was placed in the hands of a president and a council of mini— sters. A unicameral legislative assembly was established and effectively controlled from the outset by the Rassemblement Democratique Africain party. Soon the country, following the pattern in several other African 12 states, became a one-party nation. Since the colonial period the government of the territory has been centered in the capital Of Ouagadougou from which the administration of the country Operates through a system of regional districts (cercles). Subdivisons and postes administratifs constitute further administrative levels within districts which are especially large. The district comman— dant personifies the administration at the level Of the district, its lowest level. French colonial attitudes and policy were characterized by ambiva- lence as they related to indigenous political organization. The original pclitique d'assimilation formally precluded taking African political institutions as seriously as the British Indirect Rule policy implied. The subsequent politique d'association seems to have been born of necessity, but it did not represent a fundamental change of philosophy on the part of the French administration. Its primary concern was with the formation of a French-educated elite as administrators Of European policy rather than with the effective articulation of indigenous institutions with the European administrative system as the British more actively sought to do (Crowder l96h:l97-205). In point Of fact, however, the practical exigencies of social control, particularly on the local level, dictated the use Of indigenous leaders and institutions. The political organization Of such states as the Mossi were left reasonably intact. Given the French view of what they appar- ently saw as the ideal versus the actual state of affairs, the position Of indigenous leaders, especially chiefs was extremely ambivalent (and to some measure remains so). They were Often necessary and useful instruments 13 of the administration while the latter assumed minimal Obligation to assure the integrity and continuity Of these indigenous structures which served them. Chiefs could be used or ignored as it pleased the admini- stration in pursuit Of its own goals. It is therefore not surprising that village and canton chiefs are regarded by the national government even today merely as auxiliaires and are not formally part of the administrative structure in spite Of their functional importance at the grassroots level in areas of social control, tax-gathering and communi- cation with the populace. An economic crisis brought about a serious political upheaval during the latter days of 1965 and at the beginning of 1966. President Maurice Yameogo and his government were removed from Office, the legislative assembly was dissolved, and the constitution was suspended. Particularly active in leading the revolt were the trade unionists. Apparently backed by the populace generally, they asked the military to take over the government. Colonel (now General) Sangoule Lamizana became head of state. His regime has been one Of cautious conservatism and has won much genuine respect within the country for its efforts to place the nation on a sounder fiscal footing after the alleged abuses Of the former government. In 1970 a new constitution was ratified by the Voltaics, and in 1971 elections were held for a new National Assembly. General Lamizani re- tained the presidency but returned the majority Of government posts back to civilians. The stated goal was a complete withdrawal Of the military from the political section by 1975. Gerard Kango Ouedraogo, the majority leader of the African Democratic Union (UDA) party, was named prime minister. Two other parties were represented in the National Assembly. 1h Considerable opposion soon developed between the assembly and the prime minister. The continued political role Of the military also became a source of controversy. Meanwhile famine conditions in the northern part Of the country placed a great strain upon an already precarious economy. Finally in early 197k, President Lamazani stepped in with his military power and, in a relatively peaceful coup, suspended the constitution and dissolved the National Assembly in order to halt what he regarded as a threatening "catastrophic situation". The military remain in power today. While national politics touches the lives of villagers rather lightly, religious belief figures prominently in the cultures Of the population throughout the country. The great majority of the inhabitants may be termed animists, worshipping or venerating the ghosts of ancestors or worshipping at earth shrines or at shrines Of local deities or super- natural forces which they recognize. The embedded nature of indigenous religions woven into the fabric Of social and political life has been a deterent to the conversion Of much of the population to other religions. Islam, however, has made important gains; total adepts number close to a million. Christianity, associated with the Catholic missionaries who came with the colonizers, numbers about 250,000. Their role in estab- lishing elementary and secondary schools, however, assures a much larger representation of Christians in the administration, past and present, than the number of converts suggests. Protestants represent a minority estimated at between 35,000 or 50,000 converts and have been of much less significance historically and socially than the other two. CHAPTER TWO THE SOCIAL PHASE DEVELOPMENT The Structuring Process The primary thrust of this research has been to examine the "struc- turing process" in a Mossi village. The methodology employed in this chapter I have chosen to call the social phg§3_development. It follows in a general way the method which Victor Turner (1957) conceptualized as the "social drama”. This general approach has also been referred to by Van velsen as the "extended case method" at one point (following Gluckman elsewhere) and again as "situational analysis" (1967:129). It is assumed here that man everywhere is an adaptive, striving creature. He strives in a purposive manner. As Nadel wrote, "Sociolog- ically relevent behavior is always purposive..." Man's activities are essentially related to goals or ends which (aside from,pure1y biological needs) have been defined as desirable by the norms Of the social group(s) ‘with which he is identified. Such goals Of course may be myriad and, depending upon the society, tend to change to some degree over time as cultural norms and social structure evolve. The means Of achieving goals vary, often becoming complex and subject to optional or situational rules. Initial focus is placed upon these goals, to some measure shared by a social group, and upon the social interaction in respect to these goals. There is a singular advantage to this in that we are hopefully freer to minimize generally the culture-bound categories and assumptions Of the 15 " E. I.‘lI-1. l6 analyst which may generate attributes erroneously to the society being studied and at the same time, possibly overlook others. Even for the Objects of study the method aims toward the minimization of g_priori statements Of social structure in order to avoid what may be called the ”structuralist bias"--the practice Of beginning one's investigation and description Of a society at the broad structural level, which too frequently predisposes the investigator to assumptions which may be unwarranted. Such a practice assumes a knowledge of structural character- istics and boundaries before empirical research has clearly established their existence, relevance, and specific characteristics. Rather, the aim here is to begin on the local, less abstract and less complex level and to describe and generalize outwardly as the actual processes unfold, finally establishing the more enduring cultural tendencies and social configurations and cleavages. Thus the way is made for more accurate comparisons and sounder theoretical generalizations. It should.be clear that ”'222222 Of research is being presented. The purpose is to apply and refine it in a context somewhat different than that to which it has been applied elsewhere. It is admitted that the assumptions which inhere in methodology constitute a kind of theory, if only inchoately. In addition, some tentative generalizations will be attempted in the concluding chapter. Yet theory building on a broad abstract scale is a secondary concern Of this present study. ladel wrote, ”though it is unrealistic to talk about 2_social structure in the strict sense Of the word, it is Obviously as unrealistic to cease talking about structure in a broad sense, and so to deny to societies structuring to some form, degree or complexity” (1957:156). The concept, ”structuring process” as conceived here seeks to bring .\.r 17 together what are Often held to be rather Opposing and competing views Of the study Of society. "Structure" may be viewed as consisting of models (perceived variously by the actors themselves or by the analyst) which reflect and give direction to interaction within and between social entities. By "model” I would.mean sets szmeaningful social and cultural categories which are logically related to each other in paradigmatic fashion by ordering rules based on the relevant values and norms.1 Structure is ever becomigg, always open ended, generally (due to the segmentary nature Of society anywhere) consisting of some con— flicting and even contradictory rules within a single social field. The "process" consists Of Operations which obtain between inter- acting individuals and groups in respect to the structuring models (stated differently, as sets of mutual expectations) which individuals consciously or unconsciously hold. Such models may direct or elicit behavior in a given situation. Process as understood here is not uniquely the expression of either cyclical, repetitive social interaction or evolutionary progession. ‘Bgth_qualities undoubtedly inhere to some measure in any social event. A ”structural statement” or assessment is an abstraction from process. It presents a "set" or pattern of interrelated social facts at a given moment. Since it is atemporal by definition, it cannot explicitly reveal the dynamics; but it points out rather what gggh£_to be, what is generally experienced, what behavior is sanctioned. A ”processual statement" re- veals the actual dynamics—-the operations, the tensions, the interplay-over a given period of time between interacting individuals and/or groups. Thus conceived, the regularities, the structure are perceived only secondarily. The presentation of the process, on the other hand, is the presentation of K? 18 a series Of ordered or patterned manifestations. To illustrate this, an analogy may be drawn from what one may term."continuous eye movement" when in fact there are a series of Optical fixations and constant re- focusing. The series Of "dramas" depicted by Turner in his work on the Ndembu is a precise ethnographic example of what I am saying. From the analytical point of view, we must take periodic "fixes” on movement. I suggest that all diachronic analyses do this: ”running accounts" are a series of accounts momentarily fixed in "snap-shot" fashion. At this point it will be useful to reach back to cite some antecedent insights which have influenced my present theoretical position and.method. The disciplines Of anthropology and sociology rest generally upon the premise that human social relations are not random but are ordered or structured in some logical fashion. Both diachronic and synchronic approaches affirm this and have illustrated it on both the macro and micro-levels. Reacting to the theoretical and.methodological inadequacies of 19th century evolutionary theories Radcliffe-Brown and some Of his contempora- ries turned to the synchronic analysis Of societies. He emphasized the concept "social structure" which he conceived as being the "network of actually existing relations” (1952:190). This was in keeping with the avowed empiricist posture which he and others sought to maintain. The logical problems soon became evident in such an effOrt to call ”structure" (an abstraction) and "existing relations” (behavior) the same thing. Evans-Pritchard defined structure somewhat more abstractly as ”relations between groups which have a high degree of consistency and constancy" (l9h0:262). Yet we are not sure from.his definition how small such a group can be nor how consistent and enduring it should be to gain W’fi‘ l9 acceptance as a ”social structure". Levi-Strauss stated flatly, however, that "social structure has nothing to do with empirical reality". Rather it consists Of ”models which are built up after it” (1963:277). In spite of the interesting insights which his more formal and highly abstract logic has affOrded, it-1ike Gestalt psychology--leaves many unanswered questions at levels closer to actual behavior. A satisfying analysis of actual dynamics on less abstract levels was left unanswered, if indeed his appeal to innate proclivities in man have adequately accounted fer the structuring process even on this more abstract plane. Raymond Firth perceived this problem Of adequately conceptualizing process and structure and thus regarded ”social structure” as the representation of the more abstract, enduring and relatively figsd network of social ties. On the other hand ”social organization” reflected the gypamics of social life. (1951:28) But the synchronic mode of analysis hardly permitted this latter concept much working space for operations are movements through time. Fortes (19kg) and Evans Pritchard (19ho:1oh) pointed up this theoret- ical weakness, showing, in effect, that an adequate explanatory social ”grammar” could not be produced without appealing to process through time. Their structuralist predispositions, however, limited them and others to structural tips, The idea of plural structures within a single society or at least a single social group englobing what could be conceived of as two somewhat contradictory social models was presented by Leach (195“) in Political Systems 2£_Highland Burma. Here we are given a very abstract view of Kern 20 the dynamics of behaviors that reflect movement of persons and resources in a rather oscillating manner from the snags form of social organization to guglgg_type through time. He seriously questions the assumption that society is a single system and that this system must be in "structural equilibrium". However fruitful this very perceptive work is, a processual examination through historical time (rather than through structural time) would have undoubtedly been even more enlightening theoretically. The important idea of the multi—structured aspect of society was pointed out above by Nadel who wrote further that "it seems impossible to speak of social structure in the singular". He quotes Firth as well: "There is...no such isolable entity as ths_social structure" (Nadel 1957:153). The static conceptual model of Nadel, however, profited little from this insight for he regarded ”structure in the plural (of) little informp ative value", for he saw in it "the mere setting out of command positions in stationary states" (1957:15h). A study of goal—directed.behavior of incumbents of Nadel's roles might have provided a more fruitful way to articulate what seems to be disparate structures. Later studies of social change and politics brought attention to this level of research. Gluckman, influenced by conflict theory was able to show from African ethnography that conflict on one level of society served to reaffirm principles of solidarity on the "structural” level (1963, 1966). Why one must assign the label "structure" only to the more enduring arrangement of social ties and not to those legs enduring ones (such as those con- sistent patterned.behaviors built up around an incumbent but which do not attach necessarily to the office), he does not adequately explain. It is patently evident that relationships are structured at many levels in u‘. sxtetzes. he 3133?: 3:111:31 be:‘ £232 idea of twin cancer D-..~‘ .4" . 'k’s . Egan“: tn w‘:‘su‘ "' ”iv-Q s u '0 he." RN} "-':E'al) 21 most societies. The significance of the contribution of Gluckman and others of this theoretical bent, however, has been instrumental in divesting anthropology of the idea of the assumed functional unity of a total society. It leans toward a conceptualization of society aptly termed.by wallace as the ”organization of diversity". (1961:23) This indicates the acceptance of the principle of organization-~structure and systemic tendency-but we are not bound to assume any necessary pervasive ideology nor an equilibrium the maintenance of which al1_parts must functionally contribute. Bailey (1960) was clearly challenged in this direction as he described and competently analyzed developmental social processes taking place in a multi-structured situation. He recognized the fallacy of assuming "that in some way one structure can fill all fields of social activity in any given society and that one may speak of thg_socia1 structure" (1960:2h0). Continuing, he points out that ”one cannot analyze the process of change without dealing with substructures...(which) seem to have some kind of autonomy independent of the total structure" (Ibid:2hl). With much structural analysis ”other things being equal" has after indicated, an extremely broad interpretation of the "limits of naivety” (Gluckman 196h:165). Several rather idealized conditions on subordinate and constituent levels (psychological, and less abstract social interactions) are thus taken as given. Bailey's analysis, however refrained from holding many of these ”other things" constant. "Outside factors” came to be recognized not as isolated extraneous elements inci- dental to the process, although they might have been parts to ”other systems of'relationships' they were seen as significant resources mobilized "A‘Jloi h “tr! r’v.- Ia Lam margin surf. in}: 11 £0 1‘ ‘ 3;..1. m t se 15:: they 0ft“: 3'34! tack-3:: Either m 1 ‘~ EA‘: . l' ‘11.} | Q‘ .‘ M. '~ . l ‘3‘ A3; ‘ b a)“ , 22 by astute "political entrepreneurs" by what he termed "bridge-actions". Actors occupying statuses in different types of structures could and did enterprisingly maximize their lot in one role by drawing ”social (political) capital" in a selective manner from the resources of other structures in which they occupied a status also. Bailey analyzed the dynamics of change diachronically and not merely in the context of structural time. He further saw that the truly effective means toward such an analysis could be done ”only by examining a series of disputes and conflicts..." (1959:251). This is essentially the viewpoint of Turner in his analysis of the Rdeabu of East Africa (1957). Like Bailey he recognized particular social structures (e.g. matrilinages, villages, etc.) initially, but he did not conduct his research withig_§hg_confines of these structures. Thus a rite of passage ceremony is equally seen as a political process in both an intra-and interlineage context (Turner 1966:239ff). Methodically, he follows social processes through time on a rather limited scale. He sketches the unfolding of several related ”dramas" (which in fact constituted aspects of another drama of broader dimensions--the process _ of competition for resources and.power in a limited field over several years). Prom.these we are afforded not only a view of the society in a structural sense but we gain insight into the gygamics which produce and transform structure as it is and as it is constantly becoming. In more recent years two books have appeared focusing upon local level political processes. They are similar in theory and content. Political Anthrgpglogy edited by Swartz, Turner and Tuden and the second, Eggal_ggzgl_Politics edited by Swartz alone. The methodological orien- tation outlined in the introductory chapters of each work reflects much wit“. has been 5.}! fl.‘*55 hr“... '13-‘35 EU 5‘ So as up fro: 323:2: a‘. my 1: E2155 shcvs that 3:533:21“? in 1 W. I‘ c‘ . U?! '3}, I. :J. a... J, ‘ “n. tbs! ‘lspL‘a'e :' ~. a: y'aaa ..-' ‘ "' ‘ this n‘ -""' -4. I . v ‘1‘." v. .‘.: ¥ : -.. fi 1; “Q I- . . .Ifl\ 2‘5... H “ res t. p a: v ‘ . \m .l ' A ‘ ‘ . .cssm t. i.‘ “ -’-~n V “ ‘. shao“ .3 a“ ' s “h” tn . ‘ rdtve“ a x . \b lna“ . R 4 933‘.“ 23 of what has been sketched above. They have exerted a very dominant influence upon my own approach. To sun up from the foregoing, we see that the structuring process operates at many levels, and according to a variety of principles. Nicholas shows that it is possible to observe it "vertically" or ”horizontally" in the complex network of relationships in an Indian village (1965). Bailey points it out as a "bridge—action”, linking up quite disparate political structures--c1an, caste and nation (1960). Discussing political process on the local level Nicholas found that it was "necessary to abandon the conception of social structure as a coherent whole in which institutions are necessarily interconnected and consistent with one another".(l968:297). This shifts the primary focus from particular structures to greater emphasis on actions and events which are goal directed and which are not necessarily bounded by g_given social structure. It should be made clear that the concern with the structuralist bias is not meant to suggest that one dispense with the study of social structure. Some structural assessment is necessary at any level for discourse about social process. The point to be made here rather is that social activity for a given end (goals) may ignore or mute certain structural boundaries, (stated differently, particular norms or values). Thus one set of social ties will crosscut other sets of ties. Crosscutting ties can be tolerated because they are based upon contextual social rules which generally, and indeed often, contribute to a wider range of soli- darity rather than threatening the broader structure. Over time, however, low-level patterning based on diverse principles may tend to occur between the same individuals. The reduction of crosscutting ties may then result in profound cleavages and thus lead to broad changes in the structure of 22min: emit! 3" affix; in the “C! rltti: the villa:- t‘ :1: re establishe' an processes hm the essential s: uremia in the p 5:23th warship Riff?) 5359-. ‘ V . i --v \“ ad Qt? ‘5- in f,“ "m’ All of t V - i 0‘13” “kin e an ,. 'i'r' 2h the social entity at whatever level it may occur. This we have seen occurring in the Mossi village where Christian and Moslem communities within the village develop greater solidarity due to the multiple ties that are established between the adherents of these two groups. The same processes have all the while contributed to significant fractures in the essential solidarity of the village which found its primary expression in the past in ”customary" institutions as lineage organization, ancestral worship and the chiefship. Principle Concepts Dominant features of the method presented here are represented in the following concepts: 1):;512, 2) socially shared ggals, 3) available relevant field environment, h) resources, 5) supports, and 6) ths_social phase development. These are of course interrelated concepts and depend upon each other in large measure fer definition in the exposition that follows. All of them reflect the foregoing discussion on social structure and social process and proceed logically from the positions outlined above. 1122. The concept ”field” has been associated in the behavioral sciences perhaps more pre-eminently with the name of Kurt Levin. He defined it as ”a totality of coexisting facts which are conceived of as mutually interdependent... (Levin 1951:2h0). He acknowledged that this conceptuali- zation came from.the physical sciences. Levin's view of field in psychology saw variables interrelated in a "life space" 23.2“53232a21223 Thus the emphasis is upon the system viewed in the synchronic mode. Cartwright followed Levin in applying the concept to the social sciences, remarking that ”one may speak of the field in which a group or institution exists with precisely the same meaning as one speaks of the individual its space in indivif; his use of the te.’ sever. Esme, T‘s-2e: a' estcii not be stash their the center ___.. "93.713 m is not a 'n .I .- M “5 M!) c s: V a 25 life space in individual psychology" (Ibidzxi). It will become apparent that my use of the term in a social context is somewhat different, however. Swartz, Turner and Tuden wrote that ”ideally or properly speaking" we should not be studying a "field”...because Levin's field theory deals only with the contemporaneous situation... (1966:31). The problem, how- ever, was and is not as serious as they would suggest. Though their method (and.mdne) claims to be diachronic, what we are doing is describing and analyzing one phase after another, complementing a Lewin-like approach, not contradicting it. In fact in a later publication Turner cites Lewin and.makes no apology for the use of the concept in the sense that the latter used it, though he was obviously applying it to an ongoing social process (1968:136). The term ”field” has had a variety of rather loose applications in the literature of the social sciences. It may for example serve as a synonym for an institutional aspect or ”system" with a society, i.e., the ”political field”, the "ritual field”. Although the term itself has not enjoyed wide currency as a precise analytical concept the fundamental idea which it embraces is not new. The holistic approach, so basic an anthropological doctrine, carries this idea of seeking meaning by the examination of all_possible interrelated facts within a somewhat bounded time and space. The ”culture area” concept of the earlier American historicalists expressed ideas akin to the field approach. Steward's ”cultural ecology” concept is surely re- lated to it as well. Both sought to point out existent systemic relation- ships but appealed to the historical dimension to account adequately for the cultural process in a given "niche". he social fieli, assented as s veti: minted exponents . o ‘. ‘ W..,..s.e:.s meet . :s. : i i! crept veil: Afield is execs king stated. I chute u siditia . 'tieimnts viz}. £593. As it it: Particular state ‘5“ my other. is n . "M”. Enema 4‘ s. a: Random 2141 cc We“ . nus! 3-0“th Ii: ”fist 6 ‘ Q ‘ 3:) ad‘s t: hi”; - and to dine: at m ”least w I. 43! 9 Q 0‘ n. h| ‘ '4 3? s 833$ we ,3 1' of 23% . 8031'! ac“. I“. 5“ 26 The social field, as employed here, is an analytical construct. It is presented as a vehicle of research by which one may observe actors and associated components directly involved in a process being studied. It represents conceptual space and time which corresponds to the real space and time in which the social process transpires. Swartz (l968:6) expressed the concept well: A field is composed of the actors directly involved in the processes being studied. Its...scope and the areas of behavior it involves change as additional actors enter into the processes or as former participants withdraw and as their interaction and/or abandon old types. As it implies, the processes unfold over time...and no particular state can be assumed to be more lasting or "normal" than any other. Participants may be observed bringing new types of activities, mean- ings, values, material resources and personnel into their interactions and/or abandonning certain other elements in a given situation. It is prdbably somewhat misleading to speak of a field "boundary” though the concept field admittedly suggests it. The emphasis upon the "goal" is designed to direct attention to the primary focus of what appears to be the most relevant activities in the field from the view point of the observer. Swartz, Turner and Tuden (1966:253) write: The boundaries of a political field are determined by the processes that are actively carried out by the participants in that field... Yet such boundaries are permeable, established only vaguely. Their ten- tative nature results from expansion and contraction due to the process. This is by no means the same as ”boundary" used relative to a social structure where boundary phenomena are critical as defining qualities. The focus of the social field consists of socially (publicly) shared goals or cluster of goals. This implies of course given processes invol- ving purposive activity of the actors in respect to them. It is probable that the larger the particular social group or ”public” which values these ,3}; goals, the sore .‘Leli .111 be. Prat: scrtes sre aixittec' r331: greater nutter is pester potenti ‘ esely, this my cc: it“s; sore signi! emptzon. "H; m '13? level as to 1 .1“. 6 ' .. ...ers:.:m. 'et 1 t A”; ‘ s n my be cc: munin . “"4 hazing: 3.? 3 a‘ L uilre Sen‘_ 21:, . a . h the other 31: ”9‘1 ’ ' :3. ”id 190539;; 71' g -' Men pIOt of 27 common goals, the more significant the process and the more complex the field would be. Processes involving greater numbers of people and more resources are admittedly more interesting in research due to the ob- viously greater number of variables and possible correlations and thus the greater potential for broader theoretical statements. Yet, con- versely, this very complexity poses important problems in analysis neglecting some significant aspects of a total process or structural description. This has led to limiting this enquiry primarily to the village level and to those variables which enter such limited fields of interaction. Yet the principle involving goal-seeking and its import for the structuring process is the same whatever the dimension of the field, it is contended here. A goal may be conceived in highly abstract terms and seldom if ever explicitly enunciated. Such might be that of political power or control over an entire segment of a market or the desire for ideological leader- ship. On the other hand it may be very specific such as the burial of a person (and possibly a contest over the manner of doing it) or rights over a given plot of land. The process relative to it may transpire over decades; it might on the other hand, be a matter of a few minutes duration. Thus the field might include a long historical process or a relatively ephemeral set of interactions. As discussion below will point out, an important feature associated with goal-seeking is the differential access to a goal and knowledge regarding it among persons and groups within a given field. The grasp of alternate social rules or options available to achieve a goal are not necessarily shared by all persons within the field. Though much may be shared culturally, the disparity in information and one's relative with: is :ritics‘. I hsebtich 133’ 5° ‘9' 3:21 that s give: 3 career. he field is the facial intemeticz size see tire and nimble in the s fie ii 1! my te saintly has the his betvees tvo pg “£3114 to those item-10m Emper- “. . use 3°C: u “Sw‘ '3. 3653 933 8 :3“. Ones size“ a,“ .. b0 th 28 position is critical in social evolutionary processes, particularly in those which may be termed "political". Therefore it should not be ex- pected that a given social field would necessarily be culturally homogeneous. The field is the process under scrutiny. Given the complex nature of social interaction, there are obviously several processes going on at the same time and intertwined with or embedded in each other. These are isolable in the analytical sense only. The field may be abstracted at any level of social intercourse, conceivably from the elementary level of some culturally meaningful inter- action between two persons up through more complex levels of organization, and finally to those processes englobing complex social entities of international proportions. The social aspects of a given field are related directly by networks of communication between actors and the resources which they command. Perceiving the nature of these networks of shared understandings and expectations is fundamental in understanding the nature of the structured groups which emerge from the study of the field. Faulty communication or essentially no communication provide indications of social cleaving or cleavage of incipient to somewhat institutionalized discontinuity. The successful entrepreneur or innovator of any kind in a field is often one who perceives more accurately and acts more pragmatically in respect to the relevant variables. Besides a possible command over strategic resources, he may possess somewhat secret information which is not generally available to others. Such a one can therefore mobilize support more efficiently in respect to the goal in question. He can maximize his position personally as well as that of the structured units with which he is identified W Le, $9311.): PC“ .. 2521153?“ 5:! 'ie :29 3'33: 3" ings: A 5- me" a.‘ ‘ . woman I A3- .J. :1 s" (' :fstrrtu. ‘ heretics. 3 V fine 32st outli: nextnl one, :5 ziiestes clearly itp‘istieeted 94.0 tirssit‘q {eve i3... '5: ' ..est if! R! seed vs: t‘r 1i. L's - mference b. 1m ~‘ 3’22“. if? n: .. 1 ‘s : 3'! N‘ This ' ‘ «S 2 new 29 (i.e. family, political party, religious group, trading group). The result assures some degree of dominance. we see Just such a situation in Geertz' paper, "Ritual and Social Change: A Javanese Example" (1957:3h-5h). He sought to show in this presentation a lack of congruence between the "causal-functional” level of structural integration and the "logico-meaningful" level of cultural integration. It would seem that had Geertz more clearly appreciated what I have Just outlined and had used a field perspective rather than a structural one, his analysis would have been more fruitful. His material indicates clearly the advantageous position of certain more politically sophisticated Moslem leaders over other more naive actors with different and possibly fewer resources at their command in that particular field. What was manifestly clear was pgp_so much the lack of harmony between what he assumed was the social structure and the cultural meanings, but rather the difference between pppp_structure and cultural meanings which were differentially perceived and behaviorally defended by different sets of actors. Geertz' structuralist bias seems to have prevented him.from seeing that the ngLmanifest patterns of social cleavage (based on shifts in meanings, in social networks, in command over resources and changes in validating myths) were quite as valid for abstraction as his rather timeaworn traditional/modern structural dichotomy which he imposes on the data. A field approach, it is suomitted, would show the congpuence of structural boundaries with given sets of cultural meanings and expecta— tions. This is based, of course, upon the assunption that society is not an undifferentiated entity, but rather that it is a complex interrelation- ship of’many overlapping structures. If this position is correct it should also reveal the fallacy which inheres in Geertz' position of seeking to ." e are 503.1. .72 L'tezretstians or. I "m is s:.:t’~ ‘3‘ Ir“.nfi.; fi' . —.usavuhn’ '- I : L2? pecans, a: 3:1! 3:”: O: “K" I ‘1‘“ ?:t':e: asters ’ e: 3O compare social structure at one level of abstraction with cultural interpretations on another. There is another problem, perhaps not wholly unrelated to the one Just mentioned, of which the researcher must be aware, particularly as he seeks to use the field approach. There is the temptation to assume that all facts in the field (may we call them "etic" elements?), which the out- sider perceives, are relevant. In point of fact some may be regarded of little significance by some actors, of very different function and meaning by other actors, and perhaps of essentially no significance by a third group. The dynamics of the field should reveal the "emic" features; those features which certain actors believe or perceive to be culturally relevant. These latter are the immediate determinants of behavior. (It should be clear by implication, however, that "relevance" as well as ”emicness” in 3135! respect is relative and not a fixed quality which necessarily pervades a given field, certainly not a total society.) Thus, when I found that some people sincerely believed that planting fruit trees would ultimately bring death to some family member, I could see why they most understandably did not plant them. I was also able to perceive that the relevance of the belief was relative, depending upon the actors and generally their contacts beyond the local village. Just as there are processes within processes, so there are fields within fields. The political process which surrounds the chiefship in Tengd, for example, will be seen as a single process over many decades, yet it included several stages, each a process in its own right. Fields of course overlap; a particular phase of one may be part of a phase of another which incorporates many of the same actors and resources. A social field is always in a state of flux, with.members carrying “mam flOV Of emetic. PCmic‘le mastic: has the 1 min, 18.335135 '3 series; resorces. mic iizession (es; 2! mitiJ‘nctions‘. hazel socisl par; 5!?! social conte 1‘73: processes p: nitise: s: s tesche rill tend to intense time st stirs: messes naam? axial” Solis “p‘l . "~- Raise the y 515‘: O “‘3” °’ 80s; 31 on a constant flow of exchange transactions of one kind or another: economic, political, ideological, ritual. In a sense any and every transaction has the potential of establishing an enduring pattern of action, depending upon the success of the actors and groups involved in garnering resources. Thus, a transaction (or set of transactions) of a single dimension (say, economic) could evolve into a multi-dimensional and multi-functional institution, whatever its purportedly primary or original social purpose or function. A Moslem teacher, for example, may enter a social context as a trader or artisan. After establishing ties through processes predominantly economic he may begin to emphasize his position as a teacher of religious ideology. Through time his converts will tend to intermarry and to work together as well as to create a larger and.more structured group. One could examine a number of these separate processes including essentially the same actors and resources in relation to particular goals which would vary from situation to situation. Or one could examine the whole thing as one process related to a more abstract field focus or goal such as power or the desire to establish a Moslem community, for example. Since most if not all social interaction is structured, it should not be surprising that a given field of analysis would find its boundaries roughly coterminous with those of some institutionalized structural boundary. Granted this fact, it should be emphasized that the field has as its focus of orientation a certain goal (or certain goals) inherent in a particular social process, while the structured relationships are generally studies with regard to norms which are directly related to boundagy maintenance. The field often crosscuts structural boundaries. Thus, from.such a perspective we find, for example, that public decision I111: mind's-sis 1:. 'gsliticsl' structure 3:33? setesssrily i :fssscisl fieli—a: wraith: degree tin can estatlish 521! fans: Satialj ‘~ _ 119.3% cmsw 4‘ 5‘; "oh *- o . a“! it .16. '5“. '.x of . I I. a. the consent he U“ '9: .a. 3.‘ Lets-I‘th II.“ a e -. IE bmcept 1n :0: I I j t. .tl ‘2. a... vuls Presei“ :53: the A: mascove‘. S‘m‘o- ‘5“¢,;“ I “m V? ’3 ”rings ‘ . ‘ as: .. s.° Vic g ‘58 dIStri‘u 5033a “' flu ‘ «i a 5‘. Bred ‘ 32 making individuals and bodies are not necessarily identified with the "political" structures in a Mossi village nor are the bases of their support necessarily identified in such terms. In addition, the presence of a social fieldp-and thus a social process--does not assume a priori any particular degree of stability or continuity; only empirical exami- nation can establish the presence and degree of such qualities. Field focus: Socially shared goals. Although considerable discussion of the concept "goal" was necessary to the definition of "field”, more remains to be said on the subject. The use of the concept here reflects the views of Swartz in his introductory chapter of Local-Level Politics (1968). What he has said of the utility of the concept in political analysis can be applied more widely as I have done in this presentation. I take the liberty to paraphrase him: "It is through the discovery of public goals that the investigator adopts the view of social process advanced here" (1968:2). Here I replace "political" with ”social". Other observations which he has made will be helpful in understanding its use here. The goals a group announces...may well not be the goals of all... (p.2) we are not limited to considering goals which are seen as significant within an already established framework of some par- ticular arrangement...sometime public goals are not only outside of but also violently antithetical to the on-going structure and its distribution of authority. (p.2) Group leaders openly espouse goals which, in fact, are only covers for the leaders' "real" goals...also followers associate themselves with groups for reasons other than unmixed devotion to the explicity or commonly understood goals of those groups. (p.3)...a goal-centered view of politics comprehends what is worthwhile in a structure- centered view and at the same time draws attention to crucial sorts of activity not included in that view... The use of the concept is a means to an end; here it is part of a method of analysis. The employment of this concept affords us a means of breaking into the social process generally and into a_process in this: Vi? :2: to 2511‘. ‘n m-.- ad '\ .\. S.’1~‘u and over 1 A social. “-‘v be“? 3:! r "‘t v‘ ' .' Fe ‘-~ N .I \- “A ~““'e t ' 'QJ.‘ ' o~n;o.“ 1 0 II ~ \ 313"! q ~ 3“ li‘fn‘ 33 particular with minimal assumptions about a given social structure in order to establish the focus of the field at a given point in time. The initial focus is upon socially shared goals but from this we move on to the structuring of relationships and allocation of resources and command over them both of which constitute the more basic objectives. A socially shared goal is intended to designate some ”good" which is in limited supply and to which there is some limited access. As Swartz suggests above, particular goals may be both ends as well as means: immediate goals may function as means to the "real" or long-term goals or ends which individuals or groups seek. Since the evolving society as well as the maturing and adapting individual are never static, the goals do not remain the same. What was formerly valued positively and competed for may no longer attract com- petitors and may in fact acquire a negative value. The Messi formerly fought and died to achieve the 5332, They no longer do this. Conversely, land which was more plentiful and a mere place to cultivate, to be dis- pensed with when it was no longer productive, now has become scarcer. Modern agricultural methods and cash-cropping has brought it into the market as a limited good in some places. In a very real sense a goal can only be associated with an individual. Goals may indeed.be imputed to human groups but we must then recognize the elliptical manner in which we are speaking, for goals reflect intention and purpose and these are psychological processes, processes which can only be assigned to the choiceamaking individuals. Yet goals, as well as the values which underlie them, are social phenomena as well. Goals are defined by and provided in some social and cultural mdlieu. As such, ideas about specific goals are shared.by at least some :ftiis social caste: mimics: L-t'd‘. it: 39.2233 it, and the sffzst of me, is El Pinto 3:1 social r Ixielh derived and sfpi'posive indivii he concept gee 1'13: and reso'l'ees Nflllhtilg the 3 52:19.3 “5°". Prat J)“: an o! u '8” C05: '3.“- 1 . w ‘ «Egg lines *3!” 'e “ “3 Congress i L”! Q ‘~.":‘. late ”3‘ K: xi! would I F“ .: ‘ «3M1, “tuna! 33:. its“ , 3s .-. ‘ “31188 of co. .3 \‘4 vii“. s“ “‘7 to 0‘): m” 9‘01; .29. . J3. a: :‘u . c’i' . 0“”1t1 eh. I_ "I . \sLlp b ‘ O‘M . “s”; 3-. “$3“, 3&1 “gifts: if \8 ”£21: are VE‘ 3b of this social context. These ideas include cognitions about the goal, evaluations about its relative worth, strategies about the means of reaching it, and the relative ”costs" involved in attaining it. The effort of some, as Swartz, Turner and Tuden (1966zh-5) to separate private and social goals seems unconvincing since, "private goals" are socially derived and ”social goals" express the consensus of a number of purposive individuals. The concept goal furnished a focus for interpreting the movement of actors and resources in the field, and thus provides a means of observing and evaluating the structuring and cleaving processes in a common field. As noted above, probably few goals are shared by a total society, especially if it is a very complex and heterogeneous one. Variance is found even within a large lineage, a village, an ethnic group, a political party or a religious congregation. Members of any social unit generally do not share an allegiance to its norms and beliefs--its "charter"--with equal intensity nor do they necessarily give the same value and meaning to the event. This would probably be so if the only intervening variable was biological maturation. Of course cultural norms as incest taboo, for example, require that individuals in even the simplest societies be members of more than one structured social unit. Each structured group has its rules of conduct and sets of expectations and socially approved ends which vary to some degree and generally come into some conflict with those of other groups. Beyond this the vast majority of societies en- counter conditions which require that structural alignments reach outside of kinship boundaries at least minimally into fraternal, territorial and contractual engagements. Each group or organization has dominant shared apals which are valued in a relatively independent and differential manner "a: $2252 of :t 0...”: CODHQ°"'...T -:_ ... 4.. H a ' fill-'Oa“~. " s-fLoul‘agvu L " C C 'I“ V 9% 2 I to.“L tug-- 9L5 I) m K \F. .ll— ‘0 8 34‘2I L.er 'A‘ bur. {3' I ..‘ I "7! c.’ an 34» . surfs: F.‘ 0~ {115" 3‘- a give ' e. . :1" 3321?:11' i 5...; "M 91 5'3 nits £L U:‘e 9‘ J a r . .I‘ .1 L ea“:&é. .I inim- e . ‘ 5‘45; ' t . Int. V ‘I .a ‘39", 35 than those of other groups in the society, although the membership of these structures may crosscut each other. Thus at different levels of organization an actual field would have a different focus due to the particular goals involved. Some goals are more pervasive than others; they are shared and sought after more than others. Yet due to the rather "organized diver- sity" of any human society, members have goals of many types and of different relative value among them. The pursuit of one goal (or certain goals) at a given moment may preclude the pursuit of another (or others) due to contradictory principles involved. Therefore the members are required to make strategic choices between the various goals open to them and in terms of the means which they perceive are open to them in the achievement of the goal in question. Since human social adjustment and cultural adaptation is an ongoing process, specific goals are constantly being redefined. The observation above regarding the relative value which Mossi hold the chiefship now and their attitude toward it in 1898 when the French first established them- selves in the Upper Volta region, is an example of this. The goal of European education is perceived differently today than it was in the earlier part of the century as its relevance in the current adaptational process becomes more evident and available to more individuals. Finally, it must be remembered that the use of a "goal" is a.means of getting into and understanding more clearly the nature of the process. Therefore if a particular goal turns out to be a mere screen for a more valued primary goal, little is lost. In fact few actions fulfill but one goal either for the individual or for groups. Whether we deal with one or several goals simultaneously, the important issue is the O ' . 0‘ ‘. .gugu—O: a “ ‘IOCDO' "" e |_,.. .> a -:_ -s': f.'._.-‘-. . -- ' fl ' .a...-' up - H \ l. .. Vi. . - o , 3.... o..- n- J an! a- — .‘-s a... ' -- a' a a , 3.: 6:; . p- n.- q "o‘ 0..-. U"A~- ., : I ".:‘5‘.'-p .. .-V-. a.---.os 2.- a. .fi 1". " '~ ”I (I! L) O I.) hag. .. - a...-, D.— ~ ‘Q~- ‘- i h‘ I V ' .2: . ~ ‘ 45¢: "q ‘5 'v'l . a-.. "‘2 "e. - 133‘ ‘ 3. ‘\*~‘ .a_ _ V .G“ ~" .. a Swrfiw- _ V“. :‘-. .'aég:: I‘ ‘ \, 5 Ir . \ - ‘5 a- '4 36 interpretation of the process. Available Relevant Field Environment A given social process, and hence a field, does not stand in isolation. In fact the very movement of persons and other types of resources through the field boundaries suggests the need to conceptualize a broader universe of interaction. It is this area beyond the field which is termed here the Available Relevant Field Environment. (Due to its rather unwieldy length it will be hereafter referred to as ARFE.) Swartz (1968:9ff) prOposed the concept §£§n§_to represent particular structures outside the field whose elements are related to the field indirectly, that is, through the action of a participant in the field who reaches outside its boundaries to increase his advantage in some way. Swartz notes that the value of the arena concept: ...the value of the field concept can be increased by defining a social and cultural area which is immediately adjacent to the field both in space and time...The arena would consist of the individuals and groups directly involved with the field partic- ipants but not themselves directly involved in the processes in question. The contents of the arena would include the resources values, rules of the constituents of the arena but not in use in the field and the relationships of the members of the arena to each other and to the resources would be its structure...The usefulness of this second space would depend upon it focusing theoretical attention on important problems which might not have been so clear were we to proceed with the concept "field" alone...The arena's structure is important to an understanding of the field. He raises a valid theoretical and methodological question relative to the need to conceptualize this secondary space from which elements become available to the field-process. His concept "arena", however, has both strengths and weaknesses which warrant some comment before proceeding. He correctly points out that there are elements "out there" which re patentially nail Ease elements {311 i “a fielé: persons, v Egan curt-cm a: 39'. me tight as Efities lost desire 35’. 3f the “hr-L33 ':>i-i:sz.sh) m 94:; mecly Vith If: e . [EH . ' ' . ‘ antme in“ Izm- . I . 5...! at this 1‘“. —.~ - O '9 th. ' 'u. t ¥ ' s¢.‘. so”: “51 s", u. m a“ n’". ‘) . u: I In fut ‘ ll ‘ “19‘“ . 37 are potentially available for more immediate processes under scrutiny. These elements fall into the same kinds of categories as do those within the field: persons, values, rules, meanings, and material resources. Thus they have currency and value within the field. Yet one might ask if the term "arena" conveys exactly those semantic qualities most desired here. There is first a lesser but real problem, that of the ambiguity of the term due to its different usages. Nicholas (1966:52—5h) and Bailey (1957:105-106) use "arena", for example, inter- changeably with "field". Swartz' use of the term is of course more re- stricted. This ambiguity could easily lead to confusion. The very strength and value of this method lies in seeking to retain a kind ”pristine innocence" of the social structures of a given social aggregate gt thig_lgzgl.g£_analysis. This commits the analyst essentially to the behavioral plane and to the search for events and elements relevant to the actors and to their interrelationships. It constitutes an effort to avoid positing structural boundaries and enduring structural relation- ships prematurely, that is, before the investigation warrants it. Yet in much of his discussion on the concept "arena", Swartz deals with explicit social structures (e.g. Zulus versus the South African government) (1968:13). In fact he writes that ”the arena's structure is important to an understanding of the field". (Italics mine.) Now, unless he has already studied a given arena 3.13%, how is he in a position to speak of its structure, except in a very tentative 1iay? To suggest the "importance" of some structure outside the field inplies that we know the characteristics of the structure. I suggest that this may not always be the case. It seems that he falls afoul of the very structuralism which he decries elsewhere (1969). He makes ‘ ”...ougg gets: :...-c~‘- “"- tieei a 3179: 5 fared to as a (’F-a’-'9!‘ 9 k“. Iw.¢-ud- o ‘3‘.-- '29:: a sczevfia Y .,_ ‘ p. «(358 :- Q ““5 {10 A91 ,- ”11:33: to the Yet One 33‘: :9... . KL RS 3 i SW’th 5.3. N! at?! o‘ t‘ . In: no:- 30% 1,35,, 38 structural assertions before empirical investigations warrant them. If indeed a given arena has been studied §§_a field, it could possibly be referred to as a "secondary field", or, on the other hand, by its structural label since its characteristics have been established, Justi- fying discourse on it. ”Arena" in this latter sense, however, may then become a somewhat redundant term. I propose that the introduction of a concept like "arena" which suggests a secondary delimited space is somewhat erroneously conceived. One can delimit a figlg_by the relationships existing between components as they interrelate in respect to a given process and the goal (or goals) around which it is focused. Further, one can delimit a social structure by its status relationships and boundary phenomena. I submit that though Swartz writes the language of "field" somewhat when he discusses "arena", he gives no delimiting criteria for the latter, while he does so for the former. The result is generally discourse in terms of labelled structures to which he tacks the term "arena", suggesting its immediate function in relation to the field. Yet one may ask why the area outside the field must be regarded necessarixy_as structured. It most generally would be: a chief would draw support from administrative levels outside the village, for example. The nature of the structures outside the field (about which neither the analyst nor some actors may have accurate information are generally of lesser significance; rather it is the actors' perceptions and Egg_of a resource 335_support drawn from this environment and which is brought into the field.which is important in the interpretation of a given field situation. its relation to I ‘u‘ 4 o.‘ :0 ...s P35. b- a: Althea}: he bezsncr, I O persx s a? the future I pp '.--".M,,o\ “l/|Ibbhf, I . D 0 If as ll " kfi‘»‘ ’ O “a“ 3 ‘12: an, ‘. I 39 In this regard an analogy to Kurt Levin's view of "life-Space" and its relation to the time dimension may be useful. Hall and Lindsey write of his position: Although neither the past nor the future can affect present behavior, according to the principle of contemporaneity, the person's attitudes, fellings, and thoughts about the past and the future may have considerable influence upon his conduct (1957:222). While his position-—seeking to separate the flow of time from the analysis of the systemic ”life-space” process--seems to be a bit dogmatic and overstated, we note the importance he places upon the individual's evaluations and uses of things remembered and things projected into the future in the present context. Compare this with the evaluation and use of a given resource drawn from the environment outside the field. The particular structure of this environment-~and the measure to which it takes on this quality--is a.matter of secondary importance. Thus, the use of relationships with a missionary to enhance one's position in agriculture or in gaining more influence in a village may have little to do with the missionary's role in the Mission structure--in fact it may reflect a quite different view of his functions as seen by himself and the AMission. The same could be said for a local school teacher possibly. The nature of an ”arena” can be stated with rigor only after it becomes the direct focus of a field analysis. until then, although it will be necessary to refer to social structures outside the field, it must not be assumed that their nature and importance are isomorphic with the perceptions and uses by actors in the field. To illustrate the point, the national administration, the Koupela Naaba's court, the Catholic Ffission, etc., are labels possibly representing to theirwmembers vastly fifferent chcacte 3:135 then. This si status labels trim process) t he”. apprently This leads u 121'. :e is 5:; ""33. end avaii 1:7: .-_ refers E.- . ‘ ‘: a , '4V¢VEJ i‘uab ““ 3“ be E. “title 4» s “0 an “is tf‘e to 31:1,.“ ~. hag“ U‘ ‘ ‘a“' 2‘5: rt933 . as 1 2' 33h ‘ ~I‘ 3 h? :13 ‘33:». $.3‘. \ ‘th‘nf‘e ! ‘ 13 D C ‘ \?§‘ "75‘ we I 25:1“: fie .. “33““ se 0‘ ‘ ‘ V- :«w . hO different characteristics and functions than the villagers of TEnga regard them. This suggests that in spite of our use of structural and status labels outside the field that we seek not to assume (for a given process) qualities about these which the actors in the field do not apparently perceive. This leads us back to the concept "Available Relevant Field Environ- ment". It is hoped that it will incorporate the positive attributes of "arena" and avoid certain weaknesses of it. ARFE refers to the immediate social, cultural, and physical environ- ment, relatively adjacent and thus available in space and time to at least 3235 actors in the field. The empirical facts will reveal what is avail- able and to whom. Behavior in the field may depend largely upon the availability of elements from the ARFE. Many Mossi would feel that direct access to the spirits of the ancestors and thus more supernatural power (which can be brought to bear upon a given dispute, for example) is more available to an elderly man than to a young girl. Like the concept "arena", ARFE includes only those aspects which are relevant to the process in the field: individuals, groups, values, rules, and material resources-anything which can serve one's advantage in a given process as it relates to some social goal (or goals). What is proximate, however, may not be relevant. The gold and manganese of Upper Volta were available long befbre they became relevant to social and cultural pro- cesses there. What is more, it must be pointed out that this sense of relevance is not necessarily shared throughout the field by all actors involved. Thus an educated.male villager would undoubtedly perceive the relevance of voting and taxation differently than an illiterate woman. iBoth would act according to his or her perceptions. The importance of :‘is fem! is made I Belem-2e is o.’ saris: chief is let his :tm he would 1 she: have illustrs‘ Is”. :cre relevant t he ten field ' 212mm of the rec ”fill :rocess. “It: tie semi”? 13-33 “I 30’- 5: consider relative to effectir. EMMfip ~ an t flit] 335 "9!! the cries in m" t 3333118 Ha v 8“" Ltd he s . be": CRY: :- \ a 7!" non‘deli‘ 0'.- . \\.~ ‘ ‘ ‘3 DD V” to 8 ’:|¥ ‘h‘mhgu bl this factor is made clearer below in the discussion of "resources". Relevance is of course associated with the time dimension. A superior chief is less a support (or threat) in a local field situation today than he would have been in the past. The example from Geertz cited above illustrates this fact as well; national political parties were more relevant to some than to others. The term.£igld_in the definition is of essence here since the relevance of the recognized, mobilized resource is pertinent to a given social process. This relevance may not be constant. As an example, while secondary trading ties may be relevant to a market activity, they need not be considered.when the same actors are dealing with some problem relative to affecting their relationships as brothers in the Moslem faith. A fact which flows from the nature of crosscutting ties is the desir- ability and even the necessity of muting certain relationships, values, and rules in order that a given transaction may be successfully achieved. The goals shift and so do the means of attaining them. The term, environment, is intended to carry the generally accepted relatively non-delimited conception of space. Since, as I point out above there is no way to set boundaries on the possible environmental elements which may be marshalled into a process, it seems unreasonable to employ a term like ”arena” for such a space, since it suggests boundaries. The fact that some aspects of the environment 353 structured is a secondary importance. The impressions of certain actors within the field regarding a,person or a social structure in the ARFE may be erroneous and even prove to be illusory. Nonetheless what actors believe to be the nature of things is most generally the basis of their behavior and thus that of the subsequent structuring within a field. 35 "‘"t: '9‘ 3....- o' 1 '01..” 9"1 'fi. -. .“hh A :4" 0 LA e . own. F A 29.....3. “ SH. ‘5 let"? “:‘dld re ..'. 3.4 0.. lie szlst‘ . : '. .fla‘ ‘ I -. 39.331?” ‘ g aey‘g‘ frc: ~ v 6": 1|.:‘ “'0 a a he 0. ‘ H‘grehs e, ii. .I‘ quesgio‘ N Men 8 bd‘ I 1?? beat 01" 4 its. h2 As this method is employed to explicate the nature of social ties and cultural patterns, the result should probably yield an increasingly meaningful structured environment for the analyst to perceive. Such a method should reveal patterns of both ephemeral as well as more enduring relationships. The ARFE around Ténga contained several villages connected to persons in Tenga through consanguineal, affinal, trading and religious ties. Koupela served as the base for several important aspects of the ARFE: the administration with its various agencies, the Koupela Naaba's court and relatives, the Mission, a Moslem congregation, and a rather important daily market. The important market town of Pwiténga 20 or so Kilometers away and even Ouagadougou, over 100 miles away, the home of ministers, politicians, relatives and friends, produces significant inputs into the local field from time to time. Theoretically the ARFE would have no outer limit. Resources While differential command over resources (including persons) may be regarded as the language of politics, it is here contended that, seen in terms of degrees of mastery over one's environment, it is part of the broader question of social and cultural adaptation and structure. Given a particular social goal and some event(s) which make the procurement or the manipulation of the goal advantageous to certain actors, activities are set in motion and energy is expended to mobilize resources which act as supports for a given actor or group in respect to the desired end. The process of mobilizing resources constitutes those activities which assist in defining the field. Since we focus on a goal we view any kind of resource as pertinent was: 1: mos arterial- or " d sxisl ties vhicfi Ira-33:1 rules a 1'4 m be appeal 3753115: social Viz—his the c d‘n' ...Afi m- 358.....3 h3 to the process. Anthing which contributes to the support of an actor or group in respect to a goal may be regarded as a resource.2 These may be material or ideational; they may be persons or things; they may be social ties which in other contexts could be regarded as kinship, territorial economic, political, ”associational" or whatever. The line no longer exists here between "traditional" and current or "modern". Customary rules and.more formal codes, moral norms, and legal statutes all may be appealed to for support and will thus become resources in a particular social process. Within the context of the pursuit of a given social end diverse sets or relationships may be tapped by what Bailey referred to as "bridge— actions” (1960:2h8). Thus a participant in a field may mobilize social capital drawn on the role he plays in one institution in the ARFE to enhance his position in another which bears more directly in a field situation. Skinner (1960:h03) skilfully shows how the prominent Manga Naaba was able to press his advantage in modern political fields. He wrote: The differential treatment that the Manga Naaba receives from the administration is obvious to everyone...it was the political power of this educated chief which was responsible for Manga becoming an administrative subdivision. This illustrates as well the essential breakdown or muting of categorical distinctions which may occur when one is seeking a partic- ular goal. The ”traditional" symbols of power, the network of kinship ties and relationships linked to the chiefship were legitimate resources to call upon fer support in the Manga Naaba's bid for more power in a completely different kind of field. No resource is so critical as that of at least relative command over 25:25. In ti: ”- m: perscns vhi use same). 7 the msses of pa me eroded sway alias-ship remix ‘9‘ b: ' 'qoSiémty, n stiles, 351 m: 2222:105ng or Em‘ a ‘-.5 “cm: 0. :e- .‘ ..“3. N- . a“ k‘ 1 ‘ e sa“. 11 4 hits. - . .331: 13 :1: § 2:13... . ‘s It is ‘ hi. I ' ”deed ts. s. ‘ “ he: . hh persons. In times past a chief and lineage elders had privileged rights over persons which they §2_(had authority over, "own", controlled to some degree). Their role as middle men between the colonial power and the masses of'people changed through time and increasingly such rights were eroded away. Some authority exercised through the chiefship or eldership remains, however. The colonial administration, schools, Islam, Christianity, wage labor and migration, increased market activity, political parties, and national independence all represent institutions which have intentionally or unintentionally successfully competed for this resource: direct command over people, which was once the hegemony of elders and chiefs. The shift in command has been piecemeal, an evolutionary process, and thus it is not fully recognized until it reaches spectacular and institutionalized levels. Whereas "customary” relations between a chief or elder and the people constituted.what has been termed "multiplex" ties (several social links with the same person), the institutions named above byeand-large invoke "simplex" ties (single or few ties between persons). The latter controls only a portion of a person's time and energies. In a village school, the teacher has the children only a certain number of hours a day, and none at all during the vacation. The competing religions may impose certain proscriptions but the convert remains to a large degree ”Mossi” culturally. Viewed negatively from the vantage point of a chief or elder, it is the Egggegate of so-called.modern institutions which have replaced their command over people. Viewed from.the other direction, we see that the bridgehead of a single ”simplex" tie is often expanded into a multiplex tie relationship. Thus we will show that in respect to the structuring process this increasing command over persons (as well as rderressurces) is first. Eovever, :m‘. over pestele 1‘1: s set sorrel? ‘s generate such a : “cached by t: etciszs exist to fairs in more so : 'nlti-centri c" I: the social ! .PIQ.. “' nth ' - 0T Whale-5s? L. Ih' " :22"? ProtESt tr " H & ..es ”1‘ Date: ‘9‘!“- .M...11. No re :5 ~ s;.ex * ‘i‘ - ".42; w '94 ens...- \ .35 h5 other resources) is essentially the key to social and cultural evolution in TBnga. However, it will also be seen that a decrease in hegemony of command over people from dominant centers does not necessarily mean that a new monopoly over this significant resource develops. The means to generate such a monopoly is either not present or if it is, it may not be recognized by those with such potential. Institutionalized levelling mechanisms exist to prevent it in a statless society. Among local-level factions in more modern situations, as among the Mossi, a kind "bi-centric" or "multi-centric" stand-off may occur in the structuring process. In the social process where, for example, a market leader (e.g. head butcher or wholesaler of kola nuts) may have several underlings (kamba, ”children") or where a religious teacher may have a number of converts, o e may protest the use of "command” over such human resources since the ties are ostensibly of a simplex nature and the end is not explicitly political. Two reasons Justify this designation. First, as noted above, simplex ties can and do often develop into multiplex ties. Second, this method seeks to uncover the structuring process before it reaches the ”relatively enduring” level where many structural analyses are made. The recognition of resources-and in particular, human resources-~(what- ever the conscious intention or stated goals of the actors in a field at a given time) is critical in prediction and for hypothesis-building. Today one can point out several social structures in Ténga which control at least some of the time, energies, and allegience of persons in social events: the lineage, the 2355, the school, the organization of butchers, the organization of each quarter (though ”organization" is almost an overstatement for some in the present state), the Moslem community, the Christian community, incipient political organization along national 2x15, seen: of h6 political lines, the two main factional rivals for the naam, and of course the village as an entity itself. On the village level one observes many processes involving coope- ration and competition for material resources: land, food, water, animals, tools, means of transport, materral objects with systical power, and certain symbolic objects of prestige whose validity and efficacy depend ufon the particular field situation. Lineage land by definition has restricted access, if it is partic- ularly fertile or within the general perimeter of the main village it can be a significant resource. The lowland (23253) is capecially valued and limited in quantity. As cash cropping has increased, wet rice cultivation has augmented competition for lowland plots. Dry season gardening and fruit tree cultivation has also made land near the reservoir a more important resource. In 1958 the government sent a tractor and plow to Tanga which proceeded to plow up much of the lowland fer rice culture. The colonial administration arbitrarily gave rights to plots to individuals within the village and even to some living outside the village. The existing lineage rights were apparently ignored. The ambiguity of the situation as to land rights was intolerable for some, it would seem. Many did not return to cultivate their plot the second year. Food is not only an indispensable resource for personal survival but also a means of maximizing one's social and economic position. This is particularly true when grain becomes transformed into the common fermented drink, gasp? Qggg;functions as the lubricant for most significant social gatherings: communal hoeing and harvesting, marriages, funerals, market days and all sorts of holidays whether "traditional” or ”modern” ' ’ 1 ..p‘c. . scam! ' -soJ-o testis: of socia 341i :3: drink 1 v R. N... ‘ A “ '-&a 979"“: ‘ -..uu‘ i'ee-U . ...... w hank .13.. fi 1a (national, Christian), with the exception of strict Moslem festivites, where alcoholic drinks are formally proscribed. A supply of food and drink is mandatory if one desires to advance economically and socially. This depends upon the pervasive principle of reciprocity and the creation of social obligations which generous hospitality generates. It is significant in this context that the Moslem/Non—Moslem cleavage was particularly expressed in terms of food and drink. One man from a predominantly Christian lineage developed stomach trouble and could not drink ggflfib so it was assumed by some of’my informants that he would eventually become a Moslem since "2.22.!22§e.2§22;xsi (he doesn't drink 9.123) . water comes from.wells and an all—season small reservoir (created by the damming of a small rainy season "river", primarily to provide a causeway for a main national highway). Concrete-lined wells are found in only six locations. Relatively few people have access to the dry season river gardening area. Thus water as a goal and resource can be significant. Although the population is primarily sedentary farmers, goats, Sheep and cattle are herded to some measure. An animal, particularly a cow, is an important capital investment. It is a hedge against the uncertainties of the future. The social function of animals is probably less important among Mbssi than in many societies (where they figure importantly in bride price and as symbols of lineage solidarity and ‘wealth) so their importance as a resource is more limited, especially in the geographical area of this study. Tools, particularly in subsistence technology, have not varied greatly probably for hundreds of'years. However, access to donkey- or I A.‘ -v'o ‘ .' ” 1d A? vi. 3 ,: Q C‘s-cc. I \ um. kvn‘ O I". .. 59: R we‘ ‘ ‘~ '1 P‘ ’2 35:. 0; .5'.l—A- 'V- I Os 0 a .“ pa fl a I I". ’q~ ‘nfl‘fl. ,¢.. 1‘ wean-4 Q I" 55‘. a: ‘Q s u.“ 'I ff" Q‘O t ‘3 nan). ‘M .3 0“ d \‘h e. I Q ‘4 B “3—3035 in} :c b8 ox-drawn plows has become somewhat significant. The efficient use of plows seems to generate the abandonment (in part anyway) of communal cultivation. The social ties implied by communal work constitutes a multi-functional resource and is not to be lightly put aside. There- fore technological advantage is not necessarily an unmixed blessing. The local catechist, when asked.why he had left his donkey-plow at home, asked rhetorically "What will I do with all the people in my yard?” Social ties must be maintained. Custom plowing is done by owners of large tracxors and plows within the district. It is expensive and few can afford it. The ability to hire this machinery materially improves production and thus one's economic status in the village. No land was so cultivated, however, the year which this study was made. The M219. is the material symbol of the chiefship. Accounts vary but it seems that 2 or 3 close to the chief are guardians of it. This resource is directly connected to rights in the chiefship and thus to indigenous political power. Its worth as a support is of course lessened with the reduction of power in the hands of chiefs. Other mystical objects, particularly amulets are worn by virtually everyone--Mossi ancestor worshippers, Moslems or Christians-—for protection and well-being. The ability to produce objects of this sort for a number of different purposes is equally a useful resource. A neighbor of mine could.make tzig;(”medicine") which could protect, place a curse, keep a wife faithful, or assure one success in wife abduction. He apparently did not abuse his ”gifts” and was respected in the community. figlggl(and implicitly the values with which they are associated) constitute a kind of resource which, if appealed to or manipulated in the :orrect fas': Pies i: this :1 3:11 31' info: m‘ae. Hichols Is amen 1 stating wt! of actions betveen ri: h 'n oh '1“ be ”3:931? are a“ society my a» 1"" a \ “ 'czvraetel'ul ' A9 the correct fashion, can be used to the advantage of persons or groups. Rules in this context are essentially "norms" of any kind however formal or informal and however limited or widespread their application may be. Nicholas (1968:302) reflects my position: In common understanding, rules are propositions about behavior, stating what one may or may not do, directing that certain kinds of actions be performed while enjoining others, distinguishing between right and wrong, correct and incorrect conduct. It will be remembered that most societies (and certainly Mossi society) are multi-structured. Though rules for one structure in a society may not be contradictory to those of another structure, they are never completely congruent. Discrepencies occur and even contradictions are found, especially where a society is culturally heterogeneous. Rules are therefore often not functionally related. Some are obeyed while others are broken or at least ignored or held in abeyance. Note one Mossi dilemma: A "good" Mossi child assists with the hoeing of millet during the rainy season. School, however, is in session during at least part of the hoeing season. A "good” Mossi student does not miss class. A strategic choice must be made by the child and his parents. Or, a ”good" Mbssi brings occasional gifts to those whom he regards as superior to him (who thus are obligated to assist him from their positions of power when the fermer is in need). Yet a ”good” commis (government clerk) does not accept gifts-"bribes". The desire or seeming necessity to follow certain rules with all the consequences while disobeying others (and possibly suffering for it) is part of any field process. Even a cursory observation of a society makes abundantly clear the fact that rules need not be obeyed and indeed.many at all levels are ggt_obeyed all the time. As I have pointed out above, it is sometimes igpossible t ‘1 H-s :3 it.” L. Ussh :tins and the c disgusts; ’ a .2 -2 r953. . I U mes, earn a;- I.‘ ' ' -.es 11-3512: ‘l ‘ '-.531 “c: ‘ Ey‘y‘ ‘ 50 to obey all the rules. This means that differential rules constitute options and therefore a resource which can be worked to the advantage or disadvantage of actors in the field. In regard to rules there are many kinds among the Mbssi: lineage rules, marriage rules, rules concerning strangers, rules of etiquette, rules relating to reciprocity between a chief and his people, admini— strative "legal" rules, rules for courts, school rules, market rules, etc. Nicholas (1968:302-306) sought to point out distinctions between "moral principles”, "jural rules" and "pragmatic rules" in political contexts. While such efforts may have some utility, they are often unconvincing. Those of European cultural heritage place great emphasis on coercive sanctions associated with "jural rules" and too often ignore our cultural biases in not giving proper weight to the credence accorded alleged supernaturally-imposed sanctions by participants where such sanctions may elicit greater compliance than the most stringent coercive sanctions. The kind of thinking that assigns everything political or judicial to a given set of statuses or offices further obscures the issue. It is common knowledge that certain codified "jural rules" are ignored in certain contexts as cavalierly as some "moral principles". I wish to suggest that the meaning and importance of a rule depends fundamentally upon the particular circumstance--the social process. A more highly educated person will probably have learned greater respect fer certain formal laws; a peasant is probably more influenced by mystical sanctions. Mbral principles-even legal codes—-provide less powerful negative sanctions when there is a handy escape route across a national border. In a word, it would appear that "rules" as defined earlier as a rather undifferentiated set of norms serves our purpose - 3.‘ test 'u'ten regarn r. F'a“v :OI'A no- -" , ...- _ relatively eccnzzi ants. Vast reg. hog-I... "‘05: ta t..-..~ . ‘ _‘ A»: ‘V .'.O ‘ . ° -9 V“ at: If 'h e ‘3' B‘- «.59 3f tic-co- ‘ "‘1" ‘11 hi. I 3‘ 51 best when regarding them as resources and potential supports for social action. Finally, information is a very significant resource. Even in a relatively economically egalitarian society, there is privileged infor- mation. Most generally the elderly males among the Mossi are the principle repositaries not only of knowledge of Mossi culture, but they are also endowed.with wisdom to know when and under what circumstances to dispense it. Thus geneologies, irregular circumstances of birth, an almost forgotten act of a "kinsman‘s" former "stranger" status is knowledge which is essentially the property of the elderly. A thorough knowledge of 29531351113 (Mossi custom), knowledge of curing skills, of proverbs and of moral tales further enhanced their prestige. Yet competing structures as the colonial and now national admin- stration, schools, new religious congregations, technical training institutions and the like have profoundly changed the flow of information locally. All kinds of privileged infermation is purveyed by individuals of diverse status. Access to this information is generally institution- alized but unlike the past, it is probable that almost anyone has some access to some kind of special information that he can turn to his advantage. Small children, reading French, now inform their fathers on certain matters, reversing past patterns. A relative of Koupela Naaba Zaare in Tenga may possess information of the latter's court that the local chief does not have since customary lines of communication either no longer exist or they are no longer efficient. It seems highly significant that only those with a long (several years) exposure to gardening for whites stasis! are the one season gardens. This Zines of commie Village to the c..ie.’, strain. In fact, :1 Eateries of quarter- imfilr', and r. 3! custom a if?) 0 u‘, . :23: that others d “' h.. .0 ~n€l_.fl & e u! vions VEicL. a» ”be 3": ‘3! these 50...: .L,¢.“. ’ I a “it I v“ livi caused her i 1:595: its-.35. . . 'eal. At tt‘ -.e air A" SPirie S2 or a chief are the ones who are successfully planting trees and dry season gardens. This information they obviously turn to their advantage. Lines of communication should ideally run from each quarter of the village to the chief, then on to higher echelons of customary admini- stration. In fact, confessional, trading and friendship ties crosscut boundaries of quarters and often information is circulated rather "horizontally", and may not reach the chief at all. By custom a diviner or the Egg_N§ab§ (a special official who divined for guilt of adultery among a chief's wives) claimed special powers to know what others do not or cannot know. Now competing agencies give interpretations which may conflict with theirs. Yet ”conflicting” may not be seen by those in the field as necessarily contradicting, mutually exclusive. While I was living in Tanga, a small girl became ill. The hOSpital diagnosed her illness as hepatitis and subsequently treated her until she was well. At the same time her family went to a diviner regarding the girl and.was told that one of the wives in the lineage was a.gggyg_ (a spirit eater, a "witch”). The latter had temporarily hidden the spirit of the girl in a kind of earth shrine--a téngande--apparently with intent of "devouring” it later. The diviner successfully urged the spirit to come out and to enter into a small clay pot with water in it. It was capped and delivered to the hospital. During the night the child's head 'was washed in this water and her ”siigg 1eben 52.2.!2227 ("spirit entered her again”). Assuming that this dilemma would be revealing, I asked an elderly man what he considered to be the reason for her recovery, hoping to abstract his interpretation of the cause. The answer was ”Wennam g mane bale” ("God did it; that's all”). The intellectual problem of .gilisz such a twist 86625 ;i A O neared an. 0. he above . :Ee researcher : rsscial struc 51:21! also 331': The te... s 9 . . «island &5 v 1‘. ' -~ A \ :\ l .. ‘ §/.§:U' . Ceres .' 5'1“. § '- -~‘ H be. _s ' ‘55: a! t“ L'te this” x B 'I i 413! 313 hi “‘ filer t :1. Ne 30c . l 33" a1 \\5 3t ‘ei’ies 51.. b 53 handling such a "contradiction" did not seem to exist for him. This leads to what seems presently to be one of the most interesting aspects of the research and of the method that made me aware of it. The above experience and several others brought an awareness that the researcher may easily impose hi§_information upon a particular status or social structure. The following will not only illustrate this but should also show the importance of context for proper interpretation. The term.gggya_above is related to gggdg, The latter has been translated as witchcraft (Skinner 196hz88) and as sorcery (Pageard 1969: 125-126). Considering our predispositions as to the semantic features of such terms, it would be easy to introduce attitudes which are not those of the participants. A second example will make the point clearer,. A "Moslem" in Tanga must be seen both in historical and spatial terms to be understood adequately. The earliest "Moslems" were simply Yarse traders coming from the north (generations before from Mali). To be Yarse was to be Moslem.it would appear, although they drank 9522. and did other things that Moslems are now enjoined not to do. Perhaps ho years ago or more, the first imgm_(teacher) came. He is a very affable old man but does not have the reputation of being too strict. One non-Moslem villager spoke admiringly of his willingness to carry some dog meat (tabooed by Moslems) to a friend who ate it. Several years later a local Yarga went away and became a rather thorough convert to Islam. As the ipggpnow in charge, he adheres to the tenets of the Keran more closely than any before him. The social differentiation has become progressively marked from the earliest times when little separation was allowed until the present which sees a rather marked cleavage existing between the strictest Moslems and 2i met a. "1" VAN :- I . udl p.u‘--—--' -A . - '12 3“ harv- I 'hv u..- .‘._, _. . O £ O o 3. t‘ZE s.‘ a‘.:'-:n \ f‘ ‘v Ie arfl - ‘ '1‘.“ "‘1‘- ’ Ely k‘ ‘i 3%; I r (a st and most of the village, especially non-Moslems. Spatially, one may begin with the younger imam's quarter where none but Moslems live. The imam;has rather effectively usurped the decision- making from the alleged head of the quarter. Generally funerary ceremon- ies are completely taken over by Moslems. The quarter in which the old ig§§_lives contains Yarse almost exclusively but some are hardly prac- ticing Moslems. The head of the quarter is not the imam, Finally, several Moslems, generally Mossi, live interspersed among their kinsmen. Their praying, fasting, abstinence from dgamrdrinking and from rituals for the ancestors leaves much to be desired.when matched by the standards of the first group. A similar account could possibly be reconstructed for the develop- ment of the Christian community and for the evolution of political SOphis- tication locally. We are thus directed to recognize several things. First, that in— formation is spread unevenly relative to persons, to time, and to spatial context. Second, that status and structural labels do not mean the same thing anytime and at any place either to the "ingroup" or to the "outgroup". Third, given the rather rudimentary level of information about non- customary structures (even by most of the adherents) in such a village as Tanga we can understand more clearly the reasons for l) the paucity of boundary phenomena relative to these structures and 2) the large area of social ”space" virtually untouched by cleavage-making ties which potentially mitigate against village unity. Given improved systems of commmmication, more education and greater population movement, the ability to monopolize lines of information has become extremely difficult. The I‘ll'fi— A have- awn 354‘ we, 1:?! afien in t‘r.‘ 552331, or the :. pxitim to gai: 3:51-3:15 be re: 115: gazerally 4 7525 he is ass a' “Q , " ”~11?! Soc: h‘ «5a “‘9' '1‘" a aha 55 resource, "information", critical to local processes seems to be found more often in the ARFE in such structures as the administration, the school, or the Koupela court. The field participants in the best position to gain such information are in better positions within the field. It should be remembered that a resource advantage for an individual is also generally an addition to the repertory of the social structure with which he is associated. This of course is pertinent in the restructuring of village social life. Supports The assumption that behavior is generally purposive, that is, directed toward some end, has led to the positing of goal-seeking as the initial focus of our analysis. As it develops, actors marshall social capital and are themselves marshalled by others along with other concrete and abstract entities as resources. As the process develops positive as well as negative or countervailing elements become manifest or are brought into the field from the ARFE. Hence, in respect to a given element or partic- ipant in the field, another may operate as either a positive or negative valence. This can be conceptualized as a support. A support may be regarded as a resource which has been "put to work". Whereas emphasis ‘was placed upon what a resource is, the emphasis here shifts to what a support £252, A support may be anythings which operates to increase the advantage of the object which it supports in a given process and in re- spect to a particular goal. Following Swartz, Turner and Tuden (1966:10) somewhat in their definition of the term one can describe a positive support as "anything that contributes to the formulation and/or imple- mentation" of social ends. These ends and processes may be regarded as either conjunctive or disjunctive as they relate to a particular waived 5??- Vtsn if A“ ‘A b‘p ..-.'—.U by . .m.: .a a § "7......‘Y v‘. vdh-‘ - 81-. -.: N03 by :70” .‘ha§ '--'-‘ U..‘. Emmi :5 x 3 p . ~I~ 8 View an ‘ ‘~.?~.\"‘ 4'. new- I u ‘3 ~ " 5.53:3- ‘_ h I . v -QA ( \- ‘3‘ \ : § ‘q“ ‘.a C3- n’x“: C“.‘I“ it \M‘z '0 56 perceived system of structured relationships. Where attention is focused upon a social structure or system, legiti- mate concern is directed toward the function of the constituent parts in respect to the system. Much of the earlier structure-functionalist work especially tended to be rather teleological; the outcome was rather pre- disposed by the premises. Fixed boundaries were assumed to enclose a system that tended toward an alleged equilibrium. Features which were harmonious with this view were "functional"; others were "dysfunctional". Such a view rather reifies society, an abstraction. It becomes a "thing" which "does” certain things. Such a theory and method described inter- relationships rather well but explained little in the causal sense. However, since our concern in this research is not with systems and hence not a search for functional and dysfunctional attributes, "support" is presented as an essentially "neutral" term to point out dynamic relation- ships between an object and an element which in some way underlies and contributes to it. Thus a belief in peOple who devour the spirits of others (soaaba) is a positive support for the status of diviner (bags), while at the same time it may be a negative support for a local health program predicated on European ideas of causality of afflictions labelled gdig_(spirit-eating, "witchcraft"). The reservoirs that dot the Upper Volta constitute a positive support of modern agriculture methods; they constitute a negative support for certain disease—control programs. Thus, the field, and.pgt_a structure has been defined as the locus of study; a particular goal, and ngt_the maintenance of some ethereal equilibriumtby some functional interaction, is seen as the object of purposive action within the field. One might state the matter in propositional terms: A is a positive 5133?. for E in res? Aisenetatiw 5"??? 259115. Further, 322% are not spam stgle support my be I'm: sham above. 3i: respect to goal negative smpcrt f: 93.33311! true in c: 3m“! 9429421 .‘r P’ssibl- ‘Pujtf VA. ‘41 1:5 fir'étt gagged 1' «entity. 115 57 support for B in respect to B's relation to (or pursuit of) goal G. Or, A is a negative support for B in respect to 8'3 relation to (or pursuit of) goal 6. Further, A may be a support for several objects (B,C,D...n). Since we are not speaking of a system and therefore not function, a single support may be viewed as both a positive and negative support as I have shown above. Thus, while A is viewed as a positive support for B in respect to goal G, by virtue of that very fact A may be viewed as a negative support for C in respect to the same goal G. This is especially true in competitive fields for scarce goods. Drawing again from Swartz, Turner and Tuden (1966:10), we note a possible fruitful distinction between direct and indirect supports: Direct support is not mediated through an additional process or entity. Indirect support comes to its object through another object of support. Supports may be viewed as direct or indirect, the latter serving as a designation for secondary supports which are mediated through some other process or element (Swartz, Turner and Tuden 1966:23-2h). The support which the administration gave to the procedures for electing local chiefs proved to be an indirect positive support for the present chief and an indirect negative support for the members of the Koupela Naaba's family which exercised direct authority from the 1920's until 'the election in l96h. 0n the other hand the presence of kinsmen to those who took over the chiefship during those years has been a direct positive support to these chiefs, but a direct negative support to the former chiefs and the present chief. Through this method one seeks to observe the changes that ensue when a given support is removed from the field or when a particular support enters the field in relation to a particular object. 3:». 15d: ( V fin .q . s ash as; nu . . ‘5 “a 7 o .I. Q 0L ...e .‘92 .s t: S fie‘i a that o “- Vas‘ .- .a ..A \ g 0 3? 53: g-.- h .. 01‘5‘7 s v“ 0.“ ‘o‘. u N .3 . 5 a ‘ L. 3 .le fi .0 58 Social Ehg§g_Development Method Kurt Lewin (1951:130, 152) wrote: It is widely accepted today that we need positive means of bringing...various types of facts together in such a way that one can treat them on one level without sacrificing the recognition of their specific characteristics... One of the foremost tasks of fact-finding and observation... is to supply reliable data about thos properties of the field as a whole. Members of any society slowly become enculturated until they are capable of participating fully in those aspects of social life in which they are found. The assignment of meaning and value is part of this adaptive process. The anthropologist generally is not permitted to follow such a route. Ultimately his aim, however, is to provide a ”theory of competence”-on the order of "social grammar"-4which ideally would account for and ostensibly generate acceptable behavior in the society which he is studying. This has not been fully achieved even in one of the more stable areas of culture-language—-so it is clear we are far from anything like a rigorous approximation in other areas such as social structure. (Hurling 196h:2o-28, McNeill 1970:1h5). Such efforts as functional theory, conflict theory, ethno-science, and various statistical correlations of particular aspects of social life represent attempts to generate eventually such a theory. As indicated above, this study is directed at something less ambitious yet fundamental to good theory. It deals with discovery procedure. (Chomsky 1956:51), a competent method of "breaking into the system” and seeking to view process--including the structuring process--from within. This means gaining an acquaintance with both the standards for structural orientation and the modes of adaptation to outside interference, and ' 2 ”Fe“ £112-. the ‘33. -“-:“o s \ ‘? * “h: -_-.‘ Q V it"s ‘le W‘s- 59 finally finding a means of interpreting the feedback which exists between the two. The social phase development method is offered as a discovery pro- cedure. It is a conceptual device which provides the researcher with a means of moving into the continuum of social life, into the stream of events, in order to engender a sounder basis for the "competence theory" which we desire. Such a method should be able to handle any behavior which is gener- ated in a society, providing a means to place it in rational and thus meaningful perspective. Ultimately it should be able to deal with all levels of any society. It should be able to deal with both conjunctive ("functional") and disjunctive ("dysfunctional") processes. It should account for both the process of the breakdown of structured authority with its lessening control over resources as well as the development of new foci of command which expand into wider areas of acceptance and legitimation as more resources are drawn into their range of control. As Turner wrote of the aims of processual analysis: ...to show how the general and the particular, the cyclical and the exceptional, the regular and the irregular, the normal and the deviant, are interrelated in a single social process. In fact the social process is often an account of the "general", the "cyclical", the "regular" and the "normal" becoming less so; and, con- versely the particular, the exceptional, the irregular and the deviant becoming the more regularized and normative over time. The social phase development method includes the concepts discussed above within the framework of six sequential steps which seek to reflect o c the 2:53.333 °‘ 3 ' 3'059'“ a: ‘ci “' fl”- 2) "“"a‘. "‘ is.“ ‘V. a V.‘ 3) Crysta--.2& . s a: on WISH»; 1; efigersts a: a '\ ‘J ..‘I I I has“. ”I PaAA-” ---~-.- ”a A»- -'.-. 12o” adequately e1 '32 :ozcept .lzures a“ I met mg. Parsons I, 5“ we concept has a v ‘ .fi! Sty-AA -- .4 goal tee: .. '2 a“: share process \ .. .ilfifl 'M ‘ \t 4L event. \ tweaking elicit: beta-vet as Turner $391) and th '” Heat 60 the unfolding of a social and cultural process. Briefly these steps are: 1) Presence and recognition of a socially shared goal. 2) Initial focal event (which the goal elicits or underlies). 3) Crystallization and assessment of relationships and support. h) Marshalling of support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies. 5) Resolution of the process: adjustive mechanisms. 6) New resource distribution and structural alignments. Presence and recognition 2£La_socially shared goal. The discussion above rather adequately explains the role of goal in the schema presented here. The concept figures prominently in other theories of society it might be noted (e.g. Parsons and Shils l9Sl:h, 53; Lewin 1951:39). Swartz use of the concept has already been mentioned (1968:2ff). As pointed out the shared goal becomes the focus for the developing social field during the entire process which follows some focal event. Initial EEEEEHEIEEE: "Event" represents the initial behavior(s) which goal-seeking elicits. In a disjunctive and competitive situation it may be viewed as Turner's ”breach of regular norm-governed social relations" (1957:91) and the "breach of peace" in Swartz, Turner and Tuden (1966:32). A death, a marriage, an illegitimate pregnancy, an unexpected rainfall, a fight, an election, the proposed erection of a school or a dam are a few conceivable events which could set off social processes in a village like Tanga which would yield significant insights into the social structure and culture. The event occurs or becomes pertinent because of the presence of particular desired ends or goals and of the presence of’motivated persons seeking the latter. For the actors the goal is logically prior for the ”A. ‘s s .3-.. .3113 .~ .- ‘ 4.9.. ,8.” w L: a: ‘9 "S:BA‘ ‘ .‘5' “a ' TIM; " 'u-‘fi‘ ‘ ‘3- '~9 g. . C sJa“ ‘ J C e,‘ ‘ $a h~‘\’ ‘- Q I a?“ 'Q ‘ 4N; \ ‘ ‘3 ‘w; ’ 5“}- ‘4‘5 ‘21:- ‘§ 61 event to be socially significant. However, it should be noted that in terms of field technique for an anthropologist the order is generally reversed. Only after an event occurs and behavior is observed does one perceive the object toward which the parties are striving, capecially the more important "real" goals. In a sense the recognition of a shared goal and the occurrence of some focal event are preliminary to the social process. They set the conditions which ensue in the main body of the process which follows. Crystallization and assessment g£_relationships and support. In retro— spect this might be regarded as a kind of status qggwggtg, Studies on segmentary lineages have clarified a point that is in fact true of any society: that many social ties exist in rather latent form much of the time and become manifest only when some event or set of events make them relevant and thus the object or instrument for social action. An event crystallizes and brings into relief not only the fact of social ties but their relative strength. (Structural studies often neglect the latter.) In addition, the relative distribution of resources qua support in respect to elements in the field now becomes manifest in light of the particular event. Thus, the same relationships and the same resources may take different value and relevance depending on the focal event and the goal involved. The existential elements and relationships are one thing; the assess— ment-—the perception-of the situation by the participants in the process need not be, and generally cannot be the same. Yet this difference is critical, for actors make decisions relative to their opposition and to. resources in terms of what they perceive the field situation to be. In u: 9""‘o to '0. V. on..." V9 V ‘ I 'Q. N. was ’9 “E 5.355‘1 ‘9. 0 ' r ~L':S (‘Ar‘o - o “CITE. E 3‘ s” ‘ ‘ ia~sp rt ““ 39:}: ~ ‘ng: A. s‘ 33-19: "c ‘ ‘ ‘3 fish. ‘ U I 62 an effort to avoid "sticky" involvement with values and goals, many structural studies ignore the actor's perceptions and assessments. I submit, to the contrary, that this data is pertinent, not only in direct- ing subsequent strategy but on the more abstract level, it is a determin- ant for new structural configurations and normative patterns of thought. Besides assessing relationships and resources, the participant in the field must take into account what Nicholas has termed "technical facts” (1968:30h). These are rather unalterable existential consider- ations which must be considered. Technical facts are statements about what members of society regard as "necessary". An individual who does not have access to agricultural land cannot cultivate. With an acre of land, a pair of bullocks, a plough, seed, and irrigation water, one can grow a certain amount of rice and no more. I may have an airtight case proving that land now being cultivated by someone else is mine, but if there is a year's backlog of land cases in the court, then I will not get a crop from that land this season....These...technical facts...p1ace constraints upon any course of action. (Ibid) Some examples of "technical facts" in Tanga are the increasing lack of arable land, the unpredictable rain supply, the problem and expense of transporting products to market, the advantage of speaking French when seeking something from the administration or in an urban area. Another consideration which Nicholas (1968:306) presents concerns the analyst and his assessment of the social process; for while the "inside” view is indispensable, his view of things external to the field is equally valuable. "Regularities" is the term which Nicholas applies of propositions about variables or relationships outside the society that influence the nature and course of...action within it. Indian villagers, for example, may deal with the absolute shortage of agricultural land as a technical fact, but they rarely connect this fact with the increase in population... They know the immediate effects of clinics, dispensaries I I}. .3: Me factors M5 the strain on U u 'A I‘- an "‘0 P "be otsarvar c Well the asses ism that be car. asst-'2‘. com‘ ° '3 Motive Value 0 refers»- to *‘m' Vac. , *4"- n ‘ In“? 553 35 .9; a: a. I an \or at less. : .33 9“ 'zL-“e; 83:8 I ah kiwi. h net ale.“ 5.» My “59:35:51: 'P“! ” I'fi... fl '0’“! . ‘ a. “-1-:- “Age “'11: F ‘ ‘6 ‘9?“ ‘ ‘Jk‘u we“ -\ a“. Or I ~. ”a:.,fi" ' “"‘0 “he '96 ulflaa tL 75:55, . v .17 a ‘ “ea. DA ‘ J .l .lfSS "y’ as 3 I‘m ‘I I 53:53 in N ”r as a V; ’L w‘ 3“!“ ‘a PfiuL “u‘&\~ h: N "‘2‘!" a V 63 and DDT spraying, but they do not see how the operation of these factors lengthens the average life Span and adds to the strain on their meager resources. (221$) The observer of the social process, therefore, must not only seek to follow the assessments of the participants but must do more. The degree that he can gain insight into "regularities" (which are, in effect, abstract correlations) the more fruitful his method and the greater the predictive value of his theory. There are two words of caution in reference to this, however. First, his assumed "regularity" may not be wholly accurate; and, second, he must not inadvertently assume that the actors (or at least all_the actors) in the field possess such knowledge. For example, some adults, eager desire to have a school in a village, often do not clearly correlate such education with the breakdown in family responsibilities and in social control by the lineage over the young. A "regularity" was somewhat accidentally uncovered on one occasion by the villagers. The Mission has a rule which says that a person desiring baptism must abandon illicit sexual partnerships. The obvious result was that those with a freer sexual life style could not be baptized. There was--at least formally--a certain correlation between those whose sexual conduct was more circumspect and those who were baptized. However, on at least one occasion a young woman who had tired of a particular union (which produced one child) chose baptism apparently as a means of ridding herself of her unwanted mate who re- garded her as a wife. Her subsequent conduct suggested that this was the case. Perhaps Nicholas' idea that "regularities" are perceived only by an outside analyst is largely true, but the above may suggest that an except- ional and perceptive participant may also assess correspondences more "~12th if! a ‘5 his or her a1 ‘ha' 3‘.“ net}. ub'u.‘ v'. 6 meme. la' 9' a 5. u 0 . 9a a 0" '.... a: ...Q n9 E; “‘ "' era‘- ‘ s've code. H ct 6h competently than the average individual-—and possibly work this to his or her advantage in a field. Often during this phase conflicting principles which have remained somewhat latent may now create unexpected frictions which must be dealt with in the next phase. During this phase particular values, symbols, and relationships that are either proscribed or structurally unimportant in other circumstances may appear now to gain significance. Marshalling of support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies. In a sense the marshalling of support i§_the constant ongoing adaptive process. However, as we focus upon one process in respect to a specific goal, we now follow the particular activity which produces changes in a field subsequent to the focal event toward the resolution of the process. This phase entails the mobilization of support within the field based on the possibilities that the assessment in the last phase offered. Re- sources may be of most any sort as the above discussion indicates. They may be drawn from'within the field or from the ARFE. While we conceptu- alize the ”marshalling of supportT and "reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies" separately, empirically, these may be one and the same activity. Many social fields operate as a "zero-sum" game. Thus the appropriation of positive supports may constitute a breakup or weaken- ing of the support structure of another person, group or institution. The marshalling of support may take place by various means and strategies. Much of it is rather predictable and will follow normative rules of the social structure(s) involved. In fact, as pointed out above, some of these rules will be appealed to and regarded as a positive support. The South African white minority presently appeals to the apartheid laws lif'l 'It this teeth C‘ q.“ 5 1 37- 19$ 3 Sets. as, U l u . . urine, persuasi - {I on“. \- ' : “ T a *‘ 'v‘ "on .e. mtztntzoos or cu 'Comtervei 1i D‘s-la. "ve .V’HA‘ I Is. |-¢.;“ H. U . filatlne‘nirs v1.3; 3 u...» . a KI! "33‘. Ferson or 5’9 33 a counter-v 9 3‘ Rm .‘ . -\ 'VM .Hu pelnts 65 as a positive support for their oppressive rule of Blacks, as an instance. Yet this method does not confine us to the examination of normative systems. Support may be marshalled and manipulated by other means: by intrigue, persuasion, bribery or coercion. It may be marshalled directly or indirectly, legally or illegally, within the framework of social institutions or outside them. "Countervailing elements and tendencies" is not to be taken as some- thing "dysfunction" in the broad sense. It refers to those elements and relationships which operate as negative supports in regard to a given Object, person or group under study. Thus "the establishment" might be seen as a countervailing element to some subversive group and vice versa. The concept points out in effect that the act of marshalling support-draw- ing in resources—-will entail opposing elements. Resolution 2; £23 process: adjustive mechanisms. The culmination of the ”social drama" as conceived by Turner (1957:92) is the ”reintegration or recognition of schism". "Resolution" of a disjunctive conflict process may mean a restoration of relative peace, on the other hand, due to irreconcilable contradictions there may be a "social recognition of irreparable schism" (Swartz, Turner and Tuden 1966:37). The latter would be relative in its consequences, depending upon the range of the field and the components involved. In conjunctive processes of cooperative enterprise the outcome would probably reflect a reinforcement of the status quo. Yet no process is free from negative aspects; and a shift of resource command even here, however inconsequential phenomenally it may appear, may be part of pro- found structural evolution. Many processes during the colonial period in education, production, and marketing were like seedlings that finally ['2 I In a 9 'a It ' o D:-ob:-.€6.~- ---uu-l.4v._.. " ’= q‘ 'A‘A‘. in a-.. '- ‘uhy-.. .0 fl ‘_ 5 S99 H a ‘ N \ .1». mu.flr h. ‘ \ l‘ . «.‘Pr ‘I 66 matured, cracking walls of indigenous structures. Implicit in this methodology is the reasonably well-founded assumption that societies and their cultures do not change by quantum leaps. Therefore, while in gross terms one may express the outcome in a rather either/or manner, as Turner does, processes which terminate with the appearance of "reintegration", may contain residual elements and attitudes which are in fact forcing a structural adjustment as well. The implication of this is to suggest that actors may not--and cannot--be fully aware of all the consequences of many purposive acts in respect to certain goals. The "resolution of a process" is not intended to carry the meaning of a "system at rest", if for no other reason than the fact that processes interpenetrate each other. The balloting may be regarded as the "resolu- tion" of a particular election, the "focal event" to the process of governing by a given regime which the election ushered in or an aspect of the "marshalling" phase of a party seeking ascendancy and power. Some actors might disclaim responsibility for such unforeseen results; others, perceiving them, appreciate the unexpected and use them in some instances as supports in new pursuit of other, perhaps diverse, and more ambitious goals. Finally, it should be admitted that there is always something of the subjective on the part of the researcher, when he assigns to certain events and conditions the role of "resolving" a given social process. In Chapter Eight the events of the process related in Stage V were ultimately resolved by the election and the installation of the new chiefs-a rather clearcut resolution to a dominant process in the field. Yet Stage III which ends with Kugri's death does not exhibit the stage, the field 2:1. Ls the pt". bug's. to an en 1: resolution 0 relative success .I .:e mar-eat sea I ' I 2. temszve 12‘ ! “323‘s «sled MA a! M x, 4; rest ' 67 same kind of terminal "wrap up" ast Stage V. As we move through the stage, the field is evolving and we see Kugri maintaining primary con- trol. As the principal actor in the field, his death, as I viewed it, brought to an end that particular stage of events in its major aspects. The resolution of this process reads more like an assessment of the relative success of the actors, particularly the chief, in respect to the apparent goals at the opening of the stage, than some single event of pervasive influence which "resolved" matters in such a way as to give a completely new direction to subsequent events. Indeed the break in the social events may well be assigned to another point in time by a different researcher. The weight given a particular event or set of circumstances as they may serve as a kind of watershed depends upon the objective facts but also upon the evaluation to some degree subjective--of the anthropologist. Adjustive mechanisms may vary as to their cultural origin. The persuasive wisdom of lineage elders is one example, the Mossi court befOre a chief and the village elders is another. Pressures from kinsmen and affines, mystical sanctions, rejection or acceptance by one's co- religionists also represent such mechanisms. The present nationally- based judicial system backed by more powerful sanctions holds dominance in trouble cases. Adjustive mechanisms may be economic where market decisions can be as significant as judicial ones. Finally, it should be noted that often in Africa, various institup tionalized modes of adjustment work in concert to achieve a new adaptation and distribution of resources. Chiefs have, in fact worked with both colonial and national administration for many decades, fusing customary principle with more formally coded administrative law to achieve I r1- 1: sea: vh at O‘- H .. ' w l Scent-a? 68 resolutions of social problems. It is not always clear which is the most influential in a given case, nor if institutionalized mechanisms are more important than certain rather ad_h2£_ones. New resource distribution and structural alignments. The social process culminates in a new distribution of resources, hence a new configuration of resources and hence of supports. "Supports" in this sense continues to mean what it did above--a contributing force to an object in respect to a sought-after goal. Yet supports have a latent phase; or perhaps more accurately, they are multi-functional. They continue as supports but in respect to new goals. Supports may become rather institutionalized, providing the underpinnings for enduring structural arrangements. As the above section indicates, no social structure is truly static. The shift of resources over time means that certain structures are gain— ing support while others are losing it. This suggests that there is much more of the "evolutionary" in "revolution" than is often suspected. What may appear as a major alteration in structure may be more an affirmation of a longer process than the abrupt "change" that it appears to be. In this rather lengthy discourse I have sought to lay the conceptual groundwork for the social phase development method. Subsequently, the sequences of a social process are set into a schema as we follow its denouement and resulting contribution to the broader ongoing structuring process. Not only does a single cluster of elements contribute to different phases of different processes, a total process may be linked to subse- quent ones, together to become part of a larger historical process. Turner (1957:91) has termed these constituent processes "dramas". Six :fsrh "trams" or rszied the chiefsh: N 5 enizei in the . . o H .O-- sieve, we will teaseezéancv of o‘ 69 of such "dramas" or processes which I have termed "stages", that sur- rounded the chiefship and other social structures in Tanga will be examined in the fifth chapter. Using the conceptual framework outlined above, we will follow not only the devolution of certain structures but the ascendancy of others to the present day. he present day lei: teatime rest: tented above, they :he?e_:~ut‘.ic o.’ L‘ppe 2:39 Elite Volta P. satieties which occu a0' a . J3"? VMSt' Chan IR‘ I a v . .he vo-ta1c my Q. ‘5‘: ‘ :‘te .‘f‘ 1 '3‘ Char 2"- .“=.=¢ ~ “99 P ,. i.‘~ ‘. a Web ‘4..f1~:‘. ~“ F I, . § \ : A, i . >- a ”345‘ ‘3»- ‘4 ‘r., \ . ‘ ~. ~ I s u ‘ V ’ «La ‘3‘ n ‘ Qw- :-' .. ‘ ‘ t": '- "' ,2”!- ‘~.3W (h e‘ J- I .‘ .Ea‘a "I s .3" 97‘.” CHAPTER THREE THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT £113 _M_C_:_8__s_i_: A general overview. The present day Mossi constitute a major ethnic group in West Africa. Their dominance rests upon both numerical and historical considerations. As noted above, they make up roughly one-half of the total population of the Republic of Upper Volta, occupying the central section of the country in the White Volta River basin. They are part of a much larger group of societies which occupy lands in Upper Volta and in the northern parts of Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo and Dahomey. The region has been designated as the "voltaic culture area" (Skinner 1970:187). The Mossi refer to their land as Megh_, It is part of a much vaster savanna grassland in which a relatively Sparse deciduous forest grows. On this land the primary source of livlihood is subsistance farming. In pursuit of this, the Mossi employ a rather simple hoe culture, inching over the land in a pattern of shifting agriculture. A remarkable social and political organization has evolved in spite of the relatively simple subsistence technology, exploiting soil poor in humus and where rainfall is somewhat unpredictable in terms of quantity and timing. The language of the Mossi is £233, Greenberg classifies it under the Our subfamily of the Niger—Congo family of African languages. More is a cognate language of those spoken by the Dagomba, the Kusasi, the Nankanse, the Talensi, the Mamprusi, the Wala, the Dagari, the Birifo, and the Namnam (Greenberg l966:8). A varied degree of mutual compre- hension exists between More speakers and those who are linguistically 70 I 0 “tie omens . . ,' 0‘ a. ‘ ‘ ...9 «:5-) ar. E “val M. 1 1 ""‘&“es t01‘r‘ -‘ ‘ ‘ n . --. . ..k‘...’ m'ere1" ‘ a 1". % ‘¥n‘c° 05“ w " T‘:§, H u. ugbned st! 5it? s. fie: ...qu accessi‘s. ". "~ Pm! .. d be???“ .a‘\ 8 ”’57va ‘N on”. ~. 9‘ . \‘f . ‘ "S b 71 related to them in the general region. There are, incidentally, some significant dialectical differences between speakers in different regions 0f.!952_3 This does not prevent easy communication between them, however. The Mossi are bounded by several other ethnic groups,1 some of which are speakers of the Gur languages as noted above while others reflect Mande origins. Along the southern border are found the Bisa who with the Samo in the northwest are Mande groups. The Mbba, Kusasi, Talensi, Namnam and Nankamse are also found along their southern border. The Liptako, Djelgodji and Kurumba (called Fulse by the Mossi) are found to the northeast. Besides the Samo, the Dogon (which the Mossi refer to as the Kibsi) are situated to the northwest. The western and southerly boundaries touch the Gurunsi (elsewhere written variously Grusi, Grushi, Grunshi, Gourounsi). This designation is the one given them by the Mossi, who lump several groups together under a single rubric. They refer to themselves as the Lela, the Nuna and the Kasena. Most of the above peoples situated along the margins of Mossi country constituted "stateless" societies, populations which are culturally homo- geneous but without the centralized over-arching political structure feund at varying levels of complexity in state societies. They provided easily accessible targets for Mossi predatory raids in pre-colonial times and acted as a buffer zone as well, tending to reduce Mossi contact with the world beyond, particularly during the last few centuries which followed the initial Mossi radiation over this general territory. The Gurma (written also Gourmantche) are situated along much of the eastern border. They and the Moba speak cognate languages yet both are linguistically distinct from the Mossi-Dagomba group, indicative of no -. '“-. . ‘u‘; _a- 3538351 eh, hoax 9.; -aa\ d s. O l '. a 51:21 ET: .: .- 9 3 'c ‘5 Z ‘Vh. ‘ ‘s' ‘, “ to: 72 recent common genetic affiliation. This evidence is at striking variance with certain Mossi myths (and with the conclusions of some scholars) which posit a link between the Gurma and the Mossi allegedly through either an antecedent mother's brother/sister's son relationship or by viewing both groups as descendants of different sons of Wedraogo, the ostensible apical ancestor of the Mossi. The organization of Mossi social and political life is oriented around the idiom of patrilineal descent. The dominant rights and duties relative to inheritance and succession are passed through agnatic kinship ties. The pppdg, representing a cluster of agnatically related kinsmen expressed at any level of organization from the extended family up to and including all Mossi (since, broadly speaking, all are descendants of a single ancestor, Wedraogo, has traditionally been the basic social unit. It is a multi-functional unit in which domestic production, dis- tribution, decision making and ritual processes are embedded. The Mbssi have a centralized hierarchical system of political officers called nanamse (sg. 33322)2 which Europeans have variously translated as chief, king and emperor (the last for the Mogho Naaba alone). A political unit of command (fundamentally conceived as over persons, though in practice it includes the idea of territory generally)3 is termed a soolem (chiefdom). The head of each political entity is a paapg_who functions as both ruler and judge. The most powerful of all nanamse by most traditional accounts is the Mpgho Naaba, "chief of the land of the Mossi" and regarded as the political and ritual head of the whole of Mogh . A naaba (hereafter generally referred to as "chief") is one who is vested with explicit political authority; a particular soolem corresponds to the itis sna-- " ””‘er o. . 1931:2123 73 extent of the associated authority of the officer over it. These terms in isolation cannot reveal the nature or dimension of authority; their qualities can only be understood in context. Given the relative meaning of these concepts as the Mossi use them, it is small wonder that authors have found difficulty agreeing on the number of Mossi kingdoms or states. Ilboudo (1966:26) gives feur; Skinner names the same ones: Ouagadougou, Tenkodogo, Yatenga, and "the more remote Fads-N'Gourma" (196bz2). Zahan agrees but claims that Tenkodogo was later absorbed by Ouagadougou (1967:15h). Pageard names only two "stats Mossi"--Ouagadougou and Yatenga (1969:37-38). Izard gives accounts of two large kingdoms, Ouagadougou and Yatenga but adds twelve "petits royaumes" (1970:33). Zahan noted that the relationships of the major, more powerful nanamse over smaller ones was "quite distinct from that which existed between feudal vessel and suzerain". Skinner concurs that some lesser ones were quite independent. He translates a special designation (dig) for these lesser nanamse as meaning "submit only to God”. The question of relative size and complexity and the degree of autonomy of Messi polities needs more detailed study in given time periods. Such studies should give us a clearer understanding of what constituted mere ritual and kinship ties and what composed genuine political dominance or subordinance if one is to describe with any degree of accuracy their number and characteristics. The above illustrates the difficulty which one encounters in the search for adequate descriptive terminology in English to denote the several Mossi political units and the concomitant levels of command. Although there exists hierarchies of command, a single term in More may rp- ”V‘ uses V .0:- 3.: :3 .u-se .n' 9" AA .4. Av- «as, :etive s .- a eu, -m: Dare 6“ a ‘ 0“ ..i .n. .u.» a‘A‘ Co \ a ' U Q Q .‘ 7h designate structures of widely varying magnitudes (e.g. soolem) or statuses whose attributes are vastly different (e.g. pgapa). The "system" is thus rife with ambiguities for the outsider, particularly for those too impatient to let the society and culture reveal their own structure. Kabore notes this danger even in the writing of a native son, Dim Delobsom: Il a eu, par ailleurs, trop tendance a ne voir dans les chefs vassaux que de simples contribuables du Mogh'Naba, adoptant ainsi une optique trop exclusivement européene. In his description of what might be seen as an "intermediate level" chief, the kombere, he also makes a valued comment somewhat in this regard: Le chef de canton est independant et gére son canton comme bon lui semble...Il n'a de compte a rendre a personne. Maitre absolue dans le ressort de son canton, il n'a qu'un devoir de soumission, d'allégeance gig §_zi§_du roi... (1966:30). Others may not have stated the case so strongly for such a pagpa, but it illustrates both the danger of superimposing an imaginary or European view of a chain of command and that of supposing that "lesser" means complete subservience. This also suggests a certain kind of mis- chief which structural studies do when insufficient attention is given to the dynamics of social and political processes. Who are the Mossi? Or stated in the singular, "Who is a Moaga?" Although the question seems to be so elementary as to be unnecessary to pose, there are indeed problems to be encountered in an effort to arrive at a satisfying answer. Michel Izard, at the beginning of his exceptionally well-done analysis mentioned above draws together the data and theoretical persuasions of several students of the Mossi, past and present: Delafosse (1912), - "' Igux-er (.’-J’ 5,- - ‘ u- (" r‘ axons" .3”, o .“1 1 ' 9‘ ." ’0 (F e.-.e'.a:.o .‘ ..od :rl:i:a1 exazir. 1i piety as it is 1!. 9.3393 new 32:9 ’ .' O. .32 .2! .‘JS: 2‘37. ‘ka 5“...“ ‘ 04D. unhwh'l or :5: safer: a .- W 1.78 oar'a'o . a i a: a“ .rfi‘Pn'-:‘ ' .V uviu.-l".' ' .. .. | ' a. we 2? “gs-"s o M ‘ 0‘ the 31:: I. 75 Tauxier (1913. 1917, 192k), Lambert (1907), Page (196k), Levtzion (1965), Boubou Hams (1966), plus two works done by early Moslem scholars, the Tarikh glyfettach and the Tarikh Egysoudan; as well as others. His is a critical examination of the "classical" view of the antiquity of Mossi society as it is known today. This earlier and possibly more widely accepted view accepts the assumption that there is an unbroken continuity from the first mention of the "Mossi" of the Niger River region in the 13th century or before to the present—day peoples known by the same name but who live farther south in what is the Upper Volts. In what seems to be an extremely well based and reasonably stated conclusion, Izard writes that the "Mossi of the Niger Bend", described particularly in early Moslem and Portuguese historical accounts, are in all probability only tenuously and rather distantly related lineally to the ”Mossi of the White Volta Basin" of today, the peeple to which this study is addressed. It appears that both groups might possibly trace their historical roots back to the Bornu region of Nigeria. Moslem invasions apparently drove these "Mossi" (or proto-Mossi) westward in successive waves to the banks of the Niger. There it seems that three successive Diamare states were established, first on the east, then on the west bank by these people. During some period prior to the 15th century there was an apparent movement of part of the group across the Niger and a subsequent migration toward what is presently northern Ghana. The remainder of this politically centralized community of warriors moved farther west to attack the weakened kingdom of Songhai, plunging to its heart in the sack of Timbuctu on at least one occasion. These were, however, driven back by 0-- V «0 '3 s-' .11 ' 0"0 “3“ '5 'u- v ‘0 3 .A re: 4"- .' .9 ~: ...‘v t .2 :95 C: a . :3 £27-? 3" ow o. . o 0.!“ LE. '4‘ Fr. ne‘n‘ez bus. I ‘1 s ‘ a '0 t u C .3 43V 5‘! O r ‘ ‘. Q Q... .9-4‘ Dee‘s ’F ‘ a fig A‘- ‘~-Sb’v. ‘ ‘ u . w a.” “Q r‘k a ‘3 ‘ ...F.‘ . ‘. ‘F~ 'fl‘.‘ ‘ ‘ e “‘~\ ~ “'3 ~ .‘t ‘.§..; . 'V \e s Q'U“ CE: " . Q ::‘= ‘.‘~ ‘3.“ es-A-. ‘ .réta-vt .3 a V‘..' VA "A c ‘ ‘\ 's “‘3!- ‘ 5‘M* ‘ “s \ it- u.; w"‘.,..‘ U‘.‘:‘.' t'. h b- . ..\ chfi~~ V‘I‘ \ \‘.¥ “. . .- v‘:;:~ a“ ‘ 76 the troops of Askia Mohammad and later completely routed from that part of the country by Askia Daoud according to the Moslem chroniclers of this period. The group that had moved southward earlier seem to have conquered the less organized "stateless" societies of the region, intermarrying, slowly adopting the local languages, and finally settling down to found what today are organized as the Nanumba, Dagomba and Mamprusi states (Fage l969:hl). According to some Mossi chroniclers, Yennenga, an eldest warrior- daughter of a Dagomba (or Mamprusi) chief, became impatient over her father's continued reluctance to give her in marriage, and ran away from her home at Gambaga in present-day northern Ghana. Riding her horse northward, she at last met a Bisa hunter, Riale, in the vicinity of what is now Bitou, on the Upper Volta-Ghana border. She became his wife and from this union a son, Wedraogo, was born. He was to become the assumed ancestor of all Mossi. His descendants in time moved north and west, carving out of the territory soolems over which they held control. Mar— shalling considerable evidence, Izard sets the approximate date for this beginning of the present-day Mossi states around the latter part of the 15th century. It should be noted perhaps at this point that Kabore, a Moaga himself, in company with others, sets the establishment of the present day Mossi society during the early part of the 12th century, beginning in the Niger Bend. He does little, however, to reconcile this statement with the Mossi myths (which he relates himself) which have them coming from the south (1966:21-22). The process of conquest appears to have been similar to that of their forbears to the south. They drove out or subjugated and gradually {ages-“e3 to V8.1 avid. "' h , ‘ I a Q On ' R ' Trenn- ""L‘a l . v ,, ,. d .- a «£59 00?. co“ 1 . 0 legs 9 0‘ “AA? L..¢K_9de : a- . n V o n "1': 31‘3" {‘1 io‘bd. ‘ 1' W . ' I can 01". 5:31:63 -.—.':‘._,,,.\ A "Q‘s. :l Jr 5 C, ‘. F'hvl " "‘8 CJac4‘er a l I L teat he“ a'... '~'.“.- “ *v‘ ,. . “e t‘ 77 absorbed to varying degrees the autochthonous inhabitants. Somewhat parenthetically it may be noted that there is evidence that some of these had conquered yet prior populations. Among these somewhat diverse aborigene people were ritual specialists, téngsoabandamba (variously translated "earth priest", "master of the earth", "custodians of the earth", "owners of the earth") whose mediatory skills in relation to the local shrines generally in the form of natural phenomena (trees, ribers, boulders) or so-called "earth deities" were essential to the well-being of the conquerors as well as the rest of the populace. These téngsoaban— ggmpg_were incorporated functionally into the total social and cultural process of the dominant invaders. The above account responds in part to our question regarding the identity of the present day Mossi. Little solid documentary or other evidence suggests a very direct relationship between the northern Mossi who ranged the savanna of the Niger Bend until the latter part of the 15th century and those Dagomba/Mamprusi invaders who came from the south at about the same date or earlier to settle the Volta River region moving northward into Yatenga. Until better evidence is produced to indicate the contrary, I would hold the essential separateness of the earlier Mossi and those known today. There is yet another problem connected with the definition of "Who are the Mossi7", however. Actually, three rather broad theories hold 1) that they are simply the aborigine people of the region or 2) that they are a totally foreign group that came into a rather empty country or 3) that they consist of invaders who superimposed themselves and their rule upon an indigenous population mixing with them to form an bow Joes- - O P‘ “a a“- . _ 'a I . w~--.- .’_ no..-“ 9 v... . o ‘ o I '3‘..‘I\a A ‘ .. ‘h‘ng‘v' . it"s“... .- . .r~-.-c.e . . I o. ‘ ' ~5 «9 5.22:. ,1 . r3 se "3 .:‘ ~ ~- ~ 0 a. Mil. F‘.~ -" y‘ k. a. ‘ .Fs!~‘-a \ “'-.; . a‘:‘§ ‘: asu‘ '1: s ‘ ‘ . oryOQ; . Q a ‘ . ‘ " a “‘24 ‘ L s . ‘E:“' . N «O:- .' ~ *5 '3‘ ,‘ e as Q a).:‘ . J“§i. ’ A agegha; ‘ “ essentially new ethnic group (Ilboudo 1966:16). As the foregoing inti- mates the latter is the more widely accepted position. Kabore quotes Dim Delobsom: La race "Moaga" est formé,..., de l'amalgame des "dagomba" (conque- rants) avec les "ninissi", "Kibissi", et "gourounsi" (antochtones du pays avant l'arrivée des envahisseurs). Le "Moaga",..., serait, croyons-nous, l'individu issu de ce métissage... This reflects the tenor of most writing on the subject. When des- cribing the Mossi one is describing a genetically heterogeneous society. A terminological problem arises here, however, which some have recognized. Simply stated, if ”true" Mossi consisted of a later "amalgam", then is it appropriate to apply this name also to the single group, the conguorers? Is the story of Wedraogo and his warrior descendants the account of the Mossi or merely of a sub—group that are the holders of political power and thus the principal decision makers which have guided the political and military destiny of this "amalgam"? Izard seems to lean toward the latter view it would seem and has solved the dilemma for himself by writing primarily about the conquorers, to whom he applies the term, pgykgggg. The nakomse (as it is sometimes written) he regards as those descendants of the founder Wedraogo--the nobles. These stand in struc- tural opposition to the indigenous téngbisi, the Eglgg, ("commoners"). To Izard and others this constitutes the fundamental cleavage in the society, a division of profound structural importance. There appears to be a kind of neat logic in this and there is some ethnographic justifi- cation for it. There are, however, certain drawbacks which I see to the use of the term nakomse which others, using the broader term, Mossi, have avoided. According to my informants, the term, nakomse, (sg. nakombga), is a SCI} e'v-a en‘- 5:. Cu 6» A v “ v-9 5"; 8“ O .u c. CC-I' - :70 Jo I .' 6 ‘s, ”as too. ...‘Gt 33' ova», O ‘ a“: ..sceziarts “L Q Q ‘Q‘. :28 ‘ 0a . U A l 3 6 5a'523‘ ‘ Q ...e N! he he a. s s T9 compounded word whose equivalence would be Egggg_n§§m, which would mean "miss" or "fail" in the pursuit of the g§§m_(chiefship). It includes all the sons of a dominant chief sho, due to privilege of birth, have some access to the chiefship. These are called nabiise or occasionally naabhggmb§_("children and especially immediate children of the chief"). But of course not all can succeed to the chiefship, so they Egggg_ga§m, that is, they "miss the chiefship". The term nakomse may indeed, there— fore, in a very broad sense refer to those who are allegedly direct descendants of a major chief and ultimately of Wedraogo, the founder of all Mossi. The more current use of the term, however, indicates a much more restricted usage, designating only those who are not far removed from a ruling chief. The etymology of the word does not commend it as a designation for one category of a bipartite division of Mossi society and neither do the social facts. Certainly the average Moaga does not so divide his world, in the present generation at least. It would seem that those who "miss the chiefship" and who are positionally well removed from it after a few generations are functionally tglsg, ("commoners"), whatever their alleged formal position might be in respect to the chiefship. Skinner makes this point quite clear (196h:16). (I do strongly suspect, however, that certain educated individuals have u§3g_these very latent ties in a somewhat European fashion for its "snob appeal" in order to add to their prestige where it proved advantageous. This I never saw in the rural areas and it is not considered pertinent to this study.) I would venture another point although my data is not conclusive. One can say in More, "A_bg_yam nugé; tal a soma!" ("He is in your hand; 80 guard or care for him well"). It would appear that tallg_and t§l§3_ (sg. Eéifié) are cognates. A socially superior person may have authority over (so) a socially inferior; at the same time he has the social responsibility to "hold" or "watch over" such a person. It is my con- tention that the social norms of a society do not ascribe anything more than commoner status to a person effectively removed from the chiefship socially whatever his antecedents may be. It seems to be more accurate to regard the term, talggg as a descriptive word rather than as represent- ing a fixed category of "commoners" in Opposition to all alleged descen— dants of Wedraogo-~the "nobility". In seeking to dichotomize Mossi society into nakomse, the nobles and the téngbiisi, the indigenous peOple, I find extreme difficulties in at least one situation which I can recall. Haaba Gigma, one of the sons of Wedraogo, is reputed to have gone north and east to establish a chiefdom in the area of Tougouri. (Izard 1970:136) Descendants of such founders take the "fighting names" (zabyuya, sg. sabyure) of the latter as a lineage designation. Such a name may be regarded as a "praise name" sondre, pl. §ggd§_from the verb Eggsgfi "to praise"). Both of these can be regarded as very roughly equivalent to a surname. All Mossi have at lease one such name. It is not unreasonable to assume, therefore, that people from the area of Tougouri who carry the sondre Gigma are descen- dants of this nakomse chief, and thus are true descendants of Wedraogo. Now there are indeed those of the Gigma group in Koupela who say they ndgrated from Tougouri. But the embarrassing fact is that these do not claim relation to the Koupela Naaba, Naaba Zéare (a claimant of descent from Wubri, the founder of Ouagadougou, and thus a descendant of u u.. \ 02233;: 4 Q ‘ ' "8‘ -e::e*s 0 ho— fl ‘ Izard W? V. ‘ ‘ I . w ai;:.:r\ QM.” \:.-..' a v‘. “ 195.1 fit. ¢.‘ 81 Wedraogo), but they are rather the téngsoabandamba. This of course makes them members of the téngbiisi! Izard writes of the opposition between the "détenteurs de pouvoir politique, les g§:kgm§g,..et des autochtone, détenteurs du pouvoir religieux, les té-bis..." (1970:17ff). While such a social cleavage has been a significant theme from the days of Rattray to the present and is of interest historically, yet as a cultural fact in current Mossi life, it is of minimal importance. In fact ancestral veneration or worship is by far the most important religious aspect of Mossi ritual life, in both domestic and political spheres. Hence "nakomse"(or what I would pre- 1!; fer to say simply, Mossi"), particularly the most elderly, can be des- cribed as the more socially significant "détenteurs du pouvoir religieux" and of much greater importance than the téngsoabandamba coming from the téngbiisi. In addition, on at least one occasion when I enquired regarding a sacrifical ritual before an earth shrine necessitated by a murder, I was told that if such should occur that in the absence of a téngsoaba, "an old man can do it". The latter carried the meaning of one who was not classified as a member of any indigenous group. Added credence was given this when I noted that it was not the téngsoaba located at a nearby village, but rather our own village ka§m2_(eldest of the elders) who sacrificed and appealed to the nearby earth forces or shrines (téngamma) at planting time on behalf of our village. Boutillier shows how complex this matter may become by pointing out that in 15% of Mossi villages the village chief and the téngsoaba are the same person. (1963th) Thus the division of political and ritual power is not at all clear s*:;e‘.;u' see: '1 re. .3 fr" |A. m m ‘10 -.o I’ ‘9 fl 6'4...) . .e . SS in 83‘" ‘na "Wish. c 46‘ ' ‘ 1:: a. h 82 and does not follow the grand lines completely which many of our colleagues have suggested. An over-arching bipolar division of society may more nearly apply to such people as the Talensi (fortes l9h5, 19h9) or to the KOnkomba (Tait 1961). Such a portrait of Mossi social structure, however, runs the risk of distorting the real multi-dimensional nature of the society seen either historically or ontologically. Segementary oppositions may indeed be pointed out in Mossi society (Cf. M.G. Smith 1956). The ethnographic data in this case I contend, however, does not lend itself to a final dichotomy which is then resolved into the ultimate synthesis, the Mossi. Therefore in a discussion of the question of defining the Mossi, I would note that while it is true that the application of "Mossi" to both the invaders and to the subsequent amalgam has certain logical problems connected with it, the alternative term, nakomse, seems even less attractive for the reasons which I have tried to set forth above. The foregoing is not intended to suggest that we ignore the struc- tural cleavage of conqueror/conquered but that we place it in better perspective in respect to other social and historical facts. Its importance undoubtedly varies in different parts of the country and at different points in time. The significance of this cleavage I found to be quite minimal in the area where I did my field work. The ritual role of the téngsoabandamba hardly figured at all in the ordinary social process in any way that I was able to discern. If one is concerned with reconstructing history or of writing in some "ethnographic present" of what he assumes to have been the past state of affairs, much more will probably be made of this division. If one wishes to write about modern Mossi society, it probably has much less relevance. , o 333:1: 11 'ieirsogo had established a try. he a: 3' ’“ 'ate' . .... . his: held 5 reign of it‘s:- 25123955941 i: vhigh fin. ‘ \ I 3198.111; ‘ ‘ t 83 Continuing the historical sketch as a background for subsequent discussion of current Mossi society, Mossi oral history recounts that wedraogo had two sons, Zungrana and Rawa. The latter went northward and established a chiefdom called Zandoma. It is not prominent in Mossi his- tory. One account suggests that the later Naaba Yadega, alleged founder of the Yatenga chiefdom was a descendant of Rawa. A view probably more widely held sees Yatenga established two generations or so after the reign of wubri, following a contest for the Ouagadougou chiefship. The unsuccessful candidate, Yadega, fled northwest to establish this chief- dom which finally absorbed the remnants of Rawa's descendants. Meanwhile Zungrana seems to have remained in the south near present- day Tenkodogo. After one of his sons, Hubri, was grown, an indigenous people called the Yanyoose appealed to Zungrana for assistance in defend— ing themselves against a stronger attacking group, the Kibsi (Dogon). They were apparently in the general vicinity of what is known today as Ouagadougou. He remained in the area, conquering a large region and established what became the Ouagadougou kingdom. Some traditions hold that a brother of Wubri (or possibly a brother of his father, Zungrana), Diaba, became the founder of the Gurma chiefdom (Zahan 1967:15h). One of my extremely knowledgeable informants stated that the founder of the Gurma was a brother of Yennenga, Wedraogo's mother, therefore, to some Mossi at least, the Gurma stood in a mother's brother relationship to them. Izard probably correctly omits the Gurma as a Mossi polity, since linguistic and other cultural considerations make a recent connection of the two peoples rather unlikely. As he states in a criticism of LeMoal (1959), - ‘ e ‘t w fine: a ‘ ‘ .955. do 53: “in: '~‘ 6:3. A .‘ e: e Ne°hie‘) 735. B‘s-159:1 a .13, L . avg 81 8h ...il est regrettable que se trouve ainsi prepetuée 1a quasi assimilation des Gourmantche aux Mossi, introduite par Delafosse (1912) et reprise a sa suite par de nonbreux auteurs qui ont ainsi contribué a masquer la profonde originalité de la culture gourmantche. While wubri was establishing himself in the central region of the Mossi territory, the above mentioned Gigma (his brother) moved north and east to extend his rule over the region of present tay Tougouri. At least two sons of Zungrana, Rategeba and Zido established chiefdoms but they were small and of less historical import than those mentioned above. Among those founded during the following generation or so (early 16th century) was that of Boulsa. Either during the reign of Wubri or soon after his death, the indigenous Yonyoose living in the region of what was later to become the Boulsa district were attacked by Gurma warriors. Although Naaba Gigma was possibly as close or closer to them, they appealed to Ouagadougou for help. One tradition states that this occurred during the lifetime of Wubri. He sent his son, Namende, to defend these people against their attackers. Namende subsequently decided to stay and proceeded to extend his control. Another tradition presents Namende as Wubri's kufgigg, (a son of a deceased chief and one who has important duties to perform relative to the father's funeral rite, the 33529 and who subsequently becomes the living representative of the deceased, and as such, must be forever banished from the chiefdom, never to be seen again by the successor to the chief). He had established himself in the Boulsa region when he was asked to become a protector of the indigenous people. Naaba Gigma was in the same general area and apparently the relations between the successors of Gigma and Namende were congenial. Over the tr 9. years , Gizza, vb: ' 1 l q. “ .38 ~13. _ ‘ 'fl‘ v m L. latter ml by some tr one son, 1. the k‘d-ri‘ ~ ‘ 85 years, however, the chiefdom of Boulsa gained ascendany over that of Gigma, whose center remained in Tougouri. The Koupela Chiefdom During the reign of Naaba Namende the chief of Tenkodogo died. The latter ruled a smaller chiefdom to the soutwest, though it is considered by some to be older than any of the others. The Tenkodogo chief had but one son, who was to succeed him. A classificatory son who could act as the $232122.h3d to be found. As one tradition goes, Namende sent his son to perform this task, thereby giving him the title thereafter as Ku-rita.7 As Kh-rita returned from Tenkodogo he was met by local people in the vicinity of Koupela called the Kiblisi who asked him to remain among them as chief. This he did, turning then to the surrounding villages of the area and imposing his rule over them, wresting control from groups less politically organized. Apparently the most powerful of these people were the peOpleacalled Gigma, the present téngsoabandamba. Traditions suggest fighting among these people as well as with the nearby Gurma. However, Naaba Silga, the seventh and a powerful chief, was able to bring about some degree of stability. During this time he organized the form of court which has existed since. Traditions suggest that by then there were "Busanse (Bisa), Dagomba, Gurunsi, Bimba (Gurma)" there, and that these people were forced to dwell in some semblance of unity. From "strangers” and slaves, Naaba Silga chose his council of ministers. The reason for this is explicit in the oral history fiéhga; 2933.5. _a_ saambiisa rabeem, EL 3}; 9.9. 33 kyg _1_1_ zamb 93".. ("He feared that his own kinsmen would conspire against him.")9 One group of strangers came at that time from the east, having been run off in a contest for the chiefship. They were received by Naaba 86 Silga but later offended him. Thereafter, they were made slaves and were given the sondre Beghre, a name carried to the present by some families revealing their past slave status. They are associated with the Dapoya Naaba, one of the more prominent ministers of the Koupela Naaba. As time went on, each generation saw sons of chiefs who failed to receive the chiefship moving out of their entourages of kinsmen and slaves over the land, establishing small and dependent chiefdoms among whatever indigenous peOple were present. A grandson of Naaba Silga, for example, founded first one village; then, after some conflict with his elder brother's son, he took 300 wives and 100 fighters (slaves) and founded Ténga. Some of these older centers became villages ruled by relatively powerful and independent chiefs. While such a chief recognized the Kbupela Naaba as his sovereign and received his investiture from him, he might also have had lesser village chiefs under him. In most respects politically and militarily the Koupela Naaba acted as a dime, answering to no one above him. The granting of the Koupela chiefship was, however, a matter which concerned Boulsa and Ouagadougou as revealed by a time of turmoil relative to the chiefship before the coming of the French. During the latter part of the 19th century, Naaba Kidba died, leaving a 15 year old son, Yirbi, to take his throne. Tarzugu, who was either Kidba's brother or an older brother of Yirbi, usurped power and hurried to Boulsa to receive the chiefship formally, asserting that he was duly chosen by the people of Kbupela. The Boulsa Naaba ceremonially accorded him the chiefship. Meanwhile, young Yirbi was spirited away to Ouagadougou by some of the ministers and his case was presented to the Mogho Naaba. 1 , 13‘: ..._ Iii 0“- - a ‘v 8. 7.,va “4‘1" '. ..C I’“.'. vs)" 1 ’1 .034; at an A.' D“. r. a... 3.. aaub ESQ ra pro: It vs: -S c 87 The latter forthwith sent word for the Boulsa Naaba to chase Tarzugu from Kbupela and install Yirbi in his stead. The ensuing battles brought this about but cost both Tarzugu and the Boulsa Naaba, Yemde, their lives. A name often associated or confused with that of Tarzugu by my informants was Kazemboanga. It seems that either the latter was a second "fighting name" of the same person or else he was a brother and local lieutenant of Tarzugu. I tend to hold the second to be the case. Kazemboanga figured prominantly in the fortunes (and misfortunes) of the people in the area of Ténga. According to Izard and Cheron, Yiribi must have been installed as chief around 1875 (Izard 1970:36). Since the French did not arrive until 1898, it would appear that quite a long period of conflict took place in and around Koupela. Besides the above political difficulty, the chief of a village near Ténga remarked that his forebears had been put into office there "to protect them from slave-raiders coming from the south". Whether this represented a secondary rationalization of his presence there or not, it was clearly offered as a plausible explanation and thus suggests the added difficulty of slave-trading to a marked degree in the area during these rather troubled times. Of more recent history in this century we are more certain. Naaba Yirbi died sometime soon after the turn of the century. Thus he was the Koupela Naaba who received the French. His son, Naaba Gwanga, reigned until 1915. Naaba Sorbangande had the chiefship from 1915 to 1929. Dur- ing this time certain ministers of his court, especially the Kamba Naaba seem to have taken an increasingly active and decisive part in admini- stration and political activity. Peal ...is C! “O or, a. 2:8305 ’91 1 d menu-3n 5‘ I .1. 5“ :ts t”§ ?\ .,2 11a: 3585' S‘V‘fia‘ “es-112‘s ‘. has A... Wuhan .E. ‘V k~ 0‘. an 88 Real power was associated with Mossi chiefs through the earlier part of this century but to an ever-declining degree. This erosion of power and prerogatives was due to several factors, some of which it is well to mention since they figure in the main body of the following analysis. First, the arrival of the French with their technological superiority especially militarily proved decisive in terms of power. In this regard, Izard feels constrained to conclude his study of the Mossi at this point in history: Nous ne traiterons pas ici de l'histoire du pays mossi pendant la période coloniale et dans la cadre de la Haute-Volta indépendante ...cette exclusion ne surprendra que ceux pour qui la forme des institutions prime leur contenu... I suggest that his position is a bit too radical since in many re- spects the Mossi political structure retained much of its customary form as well as content for many years. This must be seen, all the while recognizing the profound and fundamental effect of French domination. A second factor which created great strains on the Mossi political structure was forced labor, corvée, imposed by the colonial government. Upon a system of reciprocal rights and privileges between a chief and his people was imposed a demand for laborers to perform public tasks for which they received little if any perceived return, particularly those who were shipped away to other colonies to work. The hierarchy of chiefs was mobilized by the colonial government to recruit these workers. The loss of local manpower nOt only to the forced labor gang but also due to large numbers moving beyond the reach of the particularly active recruiting point deprived a chief of significant support in terms of population, tribute and labor. In addition, such activity which placed chiefs in contradictory roles generated a shift in attitudes in regard to 89 the values and norms associated with the chiefship. Another factor was the increased freedom of movement between geographical areas. Prior to the pax gallica such movement was diffi- cult if not impossible due to the danger of capture and enslavement. This as well as the forced labor mentioned above removed important human and material supports undergirding the chiefship. A fourth feature that characterized this period only slightly at first but increasingly so as time went by was increased social mobility. The increase in education, the introduction of multi-purpose money in conjunction with the initiation of cashcropping and wage labor, the crea- tion of new social positions associated with EurOpean values and norms of behavior all meant that there were peOple in the society who increas- ingly had access to resources and power which chiefs did not have, at least not to the degree that these "new elite" did. A word of caution must be injected here, however. The very fact that chiefs could command great respect, as well as considerable goods and labor from the populace until some years after world war II suggests that the degree of social mobility and that which characterized it were of such a nature that competing national political structures did not pose a real overt threat to the basic Mossi political system until toward the eve of independence. To return to the point, the administrative, educational and religious institutions that buttressed these new elements in the social field, as - kinds of "reservoirs" of resources for socially mobile segments, them- selves gained even wider acceptance-~legitimacy--due to the long and short term system of social rewards associated with them. This had an adverse effect upon t'.‘ wit. those st: Another expressed thi esth Fulbe of legal stru pacesses for 933% living ‘333 .~ e hall 81 :2; 9O effect upon the chiefs who could not compete in many public situations with those structures which possessed a greater repertory of resources. Another factor which eroded the power of the chiefs, or at least expressed this situation was the increasing ability of minority groups as the Fulbe (esPecially) or Yarse or erstwhile slaves to take advantage of legal structures which permitted them to circumvent the Mossi Judicial processes for the redress of felt wrongs. Minority or diverse ethnic groups living among the Mossi were under the guardianship of Mossi chiefs and up to the present time enjoy advantages of this. Yet, given the fundamental Mossi value of unswerving loyalty to one's lineage (which in its broadest sense includes all Mossi), one can understand why Judicial processes did not tend to accord exactly the same right to a non-Mossi as to a Moaga. Of course what was true of the minority groups among the Mossi in respect to the colonial Judicial system also held significance for those Mossi such as women, the young, or any other who might feel himself discriminated against to some degree in a Mossi court. This of course had serious implications for the ability of chiefs to achieve compliance among the population. The system of taxation, instituted early in the colonial regeme, not only took some of the economic surplus from the people but the colonists recruited chiefs to assist in the collection of these monies. Chiefs lost not only what could have been contributed to them in one form or another, but they also became unwilling partners in a clearly unpopular exploitat- ion of the population. 'With the evolution of the social structure came a concomitant evolution in the conceptual systems expressed in belief and ritual. .ne pre He was educz 12.225 man he :0 the Fren: canon know: do vith the :hiefship 0., mil 8.12051 “ ‘ Jesse. 1 m1.” -.Cy‘r ...,.~ ‘1. a: I” *‘na 3‘ » ‘g‘liyfi‘ .3051: 3:» Jujh: ‘ 0.3!; \ '8 r Oz- I. ‘Iue . re ‘:=‘\ ‘w 91 The present Koupela Naaba, zaare, has had a long and eventful tenure. He was educated locally by the priests and became a Christian. As a young man he became the representative of his older brother, Sorbangande, to the French commandant, stationed then in Tenkodogo. It is rather common knowledge that the administration and church leaders had much to do with the naming of this much younger son of Naaba Gwanga to the chiefship over his older kinsmen in 1929. Significantly, it was not until almost 30 years later in 1957 that he made his pilgrimage to Boulsa, following Mossi custom, to accept his formal investiture of office from the Boulsa Naaba. Naaba zaare was active in seeking to introduce reforms in the area, encouraging education and agricultural development and innovation. He worked very cooPerative apparently with the local mission and with the administration. He, himself, was an astute entrepreneur in the matter of agricultural innovation and was in an intellectural and political position to evaluate and mobilize effectively new available resources. Like any chief of the period, he was able to recruit labor under custom- ary Mossi norms which hold between a chief and people for his fields which increasingly included crops to be sold for cash and for subsistence crops. He encouraged others to grow crops for market as well. He acted also as the middle-man between the simple cultivator and the distant market at times. From 1950 to 1966 he was a member of the Conseil Economique g§_Sociale, using this position as he could to get improve- ments for the local region. The recent rise of a much more sophisticated, educated, and polit- ically powerful leadership which is able to act relatively independently of the ind; :e: as 533‘: .5319? 1:985 reixced the ‘1 :-~ «"16! "‘ t ‘5‘. y 92 of the indigenous political and lineage structures, has eclipsed such men as Naaba zaare whose base of support and legitimacy lay to a much larger measure with Mossi norms and values. In recent years, therefore, programs of "modernization" and change have been pursued independently of him as his position politically and economically has rapidly declined. After independence a number of measures were taken which further reduced the power of chiefs. One important step was the granting of the right to each village to elect its own village chief by popular vote. In the analysis ahead this proves to be a significant positive support for one candidate and it makes for critical turn of events in Ténga. In 1959 Koupela, Just before independence, was reduced to a simple canton status formally co-equal to the five others in the district, al- though its population is possibly three times that of the combined popu- lation of the rest. Canton chiefs receive a small stipend from the government but remain auxiliaires, outside the formal administrative structure. Most political and Judicial functions of a principal chief as Naaba zaare have been usurped by the state administration. Paradox- ically, for one who adapted more readily to Western thought and technol- ogy--and thereby abandonned more traditional modes of thought and practice--Naaba zaare presents a picture of particular isolation and frustration today. In earlier years he could mobilize resources from representative of both traditional and Western social and political structures. Today the former has but a small repertory of resources while his age and position precludes him privileged access to many resources in the latter. 93 The village 9}; M It is not clear when Ténga was founded. During the 19th century it was probably less a village than a series of hamlets. There was no chief. Lineage elders were directly responsible for social control. These were largely direct descendants of one Tantaaba who had settled there follow- ing a diapute in another not-so-distant village. Today the older families claim descent from Tantaaba who is considered the village founder. There were a few other villages in the area during this early period, some of which had chiefs over them before one was assigned to Ténga. Since they are not too distant from Koupela, the chief of the latter has exercised rather direct control over them through his ministers. Even before its founding as a village Yarse also were living among these descendants of Tantaaba. Fulbe came into the area probably in the 19th century. Both these groups have lived with the nakomse which have fanned out with each successive generation over the entire area. Predatory raiding for goods and slaves seems to have been a common practice in the precolonial period about which informants speak. The rubric gégkugg_("death from bows and arrows") is a designation often heard for this period. There are references to people coming from Tenkodogo and from Ghana in search of slaves. Also of Mossi forays into Bisa country to the south. One informant mentioned: "we marry each other now, though we are really kinsmen. Formerly we raided the Bisa and others 3; guki_p§gaba (to gather wives)". It seems rather clear, however, that some slaves were Mossi; not all were of other ethnic groups. This is evidenced by the reported effort of some in recent times to take former Mossi sonda again. 9h The ministers of the Koupela Naaba were, at least in some cases, successful warriors and drew soldiers from here and there to fight with them. In at least one case it would seem that a household servant of such a minister was a distant descendant of early Koupela chiefs. This is noted to point out what has been contended earlier, that after suffi- cient time has lapse nakomse become "commoners". However, a faithful follower or servant may be well rewarded as we will see in the Stage One analysis. During the mid 19th century the Dapore Naaba (minister of the Koupela Naaba) was over the Tenga area. Or, stated perhaps more accurately, he was the liaison between the peOple and the Koupela Naaba. As I have pointed out earlier, sometime around 1875 and 1880 there was quite a period of upheaval in the areas as Tarzugu and Yirbi fought for the KOupela chiefship. The people of Ténga were swept into the conflict. The evolution of the village begins about this time and is the subJect of the analysis of Chapter Eight. CHAPTER FOUR MOSSI KINSHIP: THE L KEAGE Mossi social organization at the local level is based predominately upon agnatic lineages. The principle of segmentation is important in the Mossi conceptualization of lineage structure though the absence of gamgd levels plus other intervening principles such as matrilateral ties, ties of clientship and propinquity, make it extremely difficult to de- marcate distinct levels and to show clearly complementary opposion in the manner that some have done in other societies (Cf. Bohannon 1953, 1958; Middleton 1965). The term in More which most adequately reflects the English word lineage is buudu. In the context of kinship a buudu_is an aggregate of kinsmen who are linked to each other agnatically. A buudu_varies in range and the degree of corporateness (with the rights and obligations associated therewith) from an extended family to and including all the Mossi since in principle descent can be traced or assumed back to a common ancestor. At any level or in any aggregate of agnatic kinsmen, the eldest is normally regarded as their ka§m3_("elder" or "leader"). To better grasp the Mossi conception of the word buudu, I will dis- cuss its use in several contexts. EEEQE.C33 mean "sort", "kind", "category" or "family" (in its broadest sense).1 "X§_ya_bg§_buudufi" could be translated either as "What kind is it?" or "To whose lineage (or nation) does he (or she) belong?" The concept can apply to any type of 95 96 phenomenon, particularly to Juxtapose one entity or variety against its binary opposite. Thus there can be as many buudu as there are ways of categorizing phenomena on any number of levels of organization which one might abstract. The context is the key to the particular area of meaning. As the term applies to Mossi lineages one must keep in mind that it does not refer to ggg_particular level of kinship organization. It is a linguistic instrument of categorization, not a category itself. Skinner made this observation when he wrote: The word boodoo refers to patrilineal groups that anthropologists would normally call clans, maximal lineages, maJor lineages, or minor lineages. The Mossi do not make any terminalogical distinc- tion between these levels of their segmentary lineage system (196h:18). However, in a half-contradiction he felt constrined to label the "minimal—lineage unit", the extended family, as "babiise (literally father's brother)" (Ibid) and referred to "clan" names "founded by ancient members of ruling families" (0p. cit:13). His first reference was to the basic domestic kinship unit of agnates inhabiting a single yii£g_(or a few contiguous gaggg) which regularly c00perate economically. Generally it is a tax—paying group and also the principal unit of the 22292.1“ the arrangement of marriage relations. All the members look to a single elder (a father, his younger sibling, or an older brother) as their kggma, He may or may not be the ka§m2_of the entire saggy Skinner probably errs in referring to this group as a designated category within the buudu, "babisse". Closer analysis would show that this term simply means "offspring of a father" or "siblings of a common father" and that it is more a description of a relationship in common parlance than a distinct kinship group. Its application may be extended from the nuclear 97 family to agy.group which is assumed to consist of lineal relative. (This fact is not overlooked by modern-day politicians who count heavily on their babiise--as it is now written--to stand with them in an election, however tenuous the ties of brotherhood may be.) Although there is no formal concept to differentiate levels of line- age organization, it does not mean that all members share equally the rights and obligations in a given situation (e.g. bride wealth, bride service, funeral obligations). The context (as I note above) will differentiate who is buudu for the particular occasion from those whose broader ties of kinship will make them "outsiders". This segmentary feature is of course common to any society, at least from the "rank" (Fried 1967) or "tribal" (Sahlens 1968) level and above; the use of a single concept applied in a relative sense is the pertinent fact here to be underscored, however. There are other terms, to be sure, which may be employed, that can denote more or less the relative social distance between persons or groups who are kinsmen. One's mabiise ("mother's progeny" or siblings of the same mother) in this polygynous society are regarded as closer kin than babiise. Both types of kinsmen are regarded as closer when set against a group described as saambiise (progeny of father's brothers or of male 2 collaterals in the buudu). Yet, we must be aware that we are employing descriptive terms here also, which can be applied in both a narrow and broad sense, rather than assuming fixed and clearly discriminatory categories. Babiise, as I noted above, may apply to buudu_members where ties can be only assumed; and I have heard public speakers wooing their audience employing mabiise in a similar way, on the vague assump- tion that some distant grandmother united both speaker and audience as 98 kinsmen. Of course this extremely broad application for kinship desig- nations does not exemplify the most common use of them. For this we go to the local level. Returning to the concept buudu; Pageard states, Dans la réalité sociale, le budu est un segment de lignage agnatique qui se définit par reference a son doyen, le bud' kasma. lineage elder ...Il est l'ensemble des yiya re- connaissant l'autorité de ce doyen. Ces yiya forment en general 1e quartier, saka, et le bud'kasma se confond alors avec le sak'kasma...En théorie, le budu est beaucoup plus vaste et peut se définir ainsi: ensemble des lignages agnatique ayant connaissance d'un ancetre masculin commun. Ce budu théorique s'énd souvent fort loin, au dela du quartier de village at meme du solem local. 11 crée des empechements de marriage... (1969:79). It will be noticed that locally he defines the buudu in relation to 3 its leading elder, the buud kasma or sak kasma. As a mode of organizing social relationships this is where the buudu is most important. The centralized political system already described assumes functions often allocated to kinship structure in less politically organized societies. Thus, Pageard states that beyond the local village level the buudu exists "en théorie" only. He thus implies the absence of explicit symbolic referents to such levels of buudu organization. This seems to be in harmony with my earlier statement that Mossi society is organized in the broad view in the idiom or langgage of patrilineal descent. A superficial study of the Mossi may possibly suggest the presence of corporate lineages or clans of great depth, which extend spatially over a large area. In fact, however, it is generally impossible to discern clear and direct ties beyond the level of the father's father's h generation for most Mossi. Relationships with non-local kinsmen seem not to be too important functionally and thus often tend to lapse over 99 time. There are, however, possibly three ways for such ties may be maintained and/or symbolized beyond the immediate locale or time. First, the information of direct kinship ties may be retained by the elderly men for a few generations. Second, occasionally annual rituals or funeral rites (kugi) of a chief may indicate kinship relationships between inhavitants of two villages or areas, perpetuating such bonds. Third, a common sondre suggests a common ancestor. Where any of these features are found, a 23292 relationship is generally held to exist. In fact, memories lapse and old men die with significant information of kinship relationships beyond the village. Often local solidarity and harmony is better served by silence on such matters even while the elders are living. Certain links with the past can prove embarrassing or burden- some to a new generation forging different kinds of integrating bonds, so such information is purposely muted. In addition, in modern times particularly, traditional ritual expressions of relationships outside the village tend to be observed less and less where they were found in the past at all. The sondre, as the bgggg designation, is often then the only expression of kinship relationships beyond the village. A discussion of this concept is not at all easy and some have avoided it completely. It seems pertinent to this study, however, and I pursue it in the hope that both my correct assessments as well as possible inadequacies will challenge others to continue the examination of this aspect of Mossi kinship. In the indigenous culture the average Mossi seldom employed the sondre. From our present knowledge of its use, however, it did to some measure accord some social identity to the individual linking him to a given ancestor and to others who bore the same designation. Yet since lOO interaction was generally on the local level, the known kinship relation- ships did not depend upon some "name" to validate them. There are, it would seem, individuals who do not know their own sondre. I met one man at least who claimed that he did not know the sondre of his father; others could not recall the sondre of a b23d3_wife. It may be added, however, as well, that traditional belief does not encourage public use of ng_name loosely (lest it be migused by an enemy). A sondre apparently took on greater importance to those who were more directly connected to the chiefship. Yet, while I concede that modern record-keeping practice of the government may be in part responsible, the maJority of Mossi seem to be aware of their sondre. Turning now to the possible meaning and function of the term, one notes that Skinner refers to the "lion clan (Gegema) and affiliated clans or boodoo..." (l96h:l3). From the context one can safely assume that the appelation Gegema is the sondre of the "clan". (Although he correctly indicates elsewhere, it will be recalled, that the Mossi do not terminologically differentiate such levels as "clans".) We have, therefore, a designation (Gegema) for bggdg, or at least for some aspect of the bggdg, Not only does Skinner give us the impression that the sondre and the bgggg_are somehow related concepts, but the use of the sondre as a £92 g3 famille by the colonial (and presently the national) government further confirms this. A person does not lose such a designation when he leaves his village to live elsewhere. Indeed, Mossi will generally stoutly deny that one can change his sondre or change 23393 affiliation. If there is a relationship between the two concepts, then why do we not find a broader clan organization explicitly structured, rather than in shadowy form, lOl "en theorie"? Or to state the matter somewhat differently, are lineage ties actually expressed and mobilized outside the local area, and of so, how are they identified? It will be recalled in the foregoing that sondre comes from the verb, ggggg, "to praise". A chief at the time that he accepts the chiefship assumes one or more of such names. Actually they are part of poetic phrases which ascribe certain characteristics to the chief. As a sondre the word or phrase may be regarded somewhat on the order of a heraldic charge inscribed on a coat-of-arms in the EurOpean tradition. The Mossi refer to such an ascription also as a zabygge (fighting name). Thus such fighting or praise names are association first with a chief then with those who claim him as an ancestor. This was assumed in my discussion of the Gigma people at Koupela in the last chapter. In this vein, Pageard writes, Le sondre...est un nom d'honneur dont le pronouncé accroit la force de celui qui s'en prévaloir; cette force est celle des ancetres qui le port‘erent (1969:h9). In their patrilineal society, therefore, it is generally assumed by the Mossi that such names express agnatic kinship solidarity. Persons having the same sondre are in principle not to intermarry. Although there Egg be on the other hand particular valid reasons for allowing such marriages anyway, I have observed embarrassment on the part of a couple when this fact becomes apparent since it carries with it the suspicion of incest.5 But there is more to the question. The sondre is not automatically assigned to a child at birth. The diviner (bggg) or (according to some informants) an older sister of the lineage must ascertain upon which ancestor the child has "alighted" or "come to rest" (sigi). Given the 102 segmentary nature of the social structure the child may thus be given the sondre of one of several "apical" ancestors within his patriline. Siblings, therefore, often end up with different §22d5_(a fact that apparently mystified earlier record-keeping colonial officials). The matter becomes more complex, however. The sondre is generally assumed to be that of an ancestral agnate; yet a child Egy_have the sondre of matrilineal kinsman. This often occurs when a husband lives in his wife's father's village. It is an effective way of ritually absorbing the offspring into the lineage and thus ratifying what may be true already in terms of economics and propinquity. The importance of this to the understanding of the bgggg should not be underestimated. Two somewhat contradictory values are held by the Mossi: l) the inviolable, and changeless nature of bggdg relationships ideally, and 2) the rather anomolous or "unnatural" status of stranger over generations. The above-mentioned means of absorption (ggkgg) seems to resolve the dilemma. Note the words of one informant: Limia and Nobila Belemkoabga are the "same thing" (bggb_§.y§). They were not born in the same family as Kouka. Yet they are collaterals (sambiise) with Kouka. Their fathers lived in the same quarter (Eggéj—so they became the "same thing" (bggb_g_yg). Thus the descendants of those who came to live nearby as strangers can and often do become kinsmen, sharing reciprocal privileges and responsibilities as others in the bgggg_experience. The fact of absorp- tion seems to be slowly forgotten. Certainly, it is impolite to mention it. In fact it was a matter most difficult to establish during the time I was on the field. Another variation occurred in the past when a stranger came to a village and established a client relationship with a head of a yiire. 103 The latter could give his client a slave wife and the resulting offspring would possibly be given the sondre of the patron. In more recent times a client has been given a wife somehow procurred by the patron (possibly the daughter of a distant kinsmen or a female ward that someone had granted him). Such children, I found, often have the sondre of the patron and the latter is regarded by them as their lineage elder. At least for the tax roll and official documents some individuals change their sondre rather arbitrarily. I know of two or three cases where this has apparently been so. In each case, however, there was no apparent breach with their known kinsmen, though in no case do these parties continue to live with the latter. If a woman has lost several children at birth or had a number of miscarriages she may be advised by a diviner to live temporarily in the heme of a Fulbe or Yarga until her next baby is born. If the child sur- vives, it is given a name of one of the above (generally Moslem) and not given a sondre, according to some of my informants. Thus we see that while the concept of sondre suggests agnatic descent and symbolized the outer bounds of exogamy somewhat on the order of clanship in some societies, in fact many who carry the same sondre are not agnates at all in the biological sense and may be permitted to marry. Conversely, many who are closely related agnates may have different ggggg, but these can- not marry if their close kinship is known. Associated with a sondre and the bggdg are dietary taboos. Thus, those who §93§g_the same are not permitted to eat certain animals. For example, those who soese Nadembeega taboo the small antelope, ygghg; those who soese Sandwidi are not to eat horses. 10h Some designations as Sandwidi and Hadembeega seem to refer directly to animals and not to ancestors, although they function apparently as Egggg. Whether they are rather oblique references to some illustrious ancestor was not made clear since there was considerable disagreement among informants on the point. In this regard some spoke of another concept §iggg_as distinct from a buudu sondre; others declared them to be the same thing. The above designations may be related to aSpects of this problem which is yet to be resolved completely. In spite of this complex state of affairs, the sondre remains a symbolic reference of bgggg_affiliation in a general sense. My reference above to the sense of embarrassment felt by marriage partners when it is found they have the same §22Q2_seems to confirm this. The fact of the marked association of the EEBQB.Vith the sondre was not lost to the colonial administration as it prepared its census and tax rolls. Since administrators poorly understood the complexities of Mbssi kinship terminology, when a household head's sondre was inscribed, it was assumed that his children would have the same "gg§_dg_famille", as they interpreted the sondre to be. As a result many present-day Mossi have both the sondre given in the traditional manner and a sondre Which corresponds with that of one's father. Due to changes in belief and'worldview many are given only the latter. Thus the colonial admini- stration in effect has created broader and sometimes more direct kinship bonds with greater depth in time between Mossi by associating one and only one sondre with a large body of kinsmen, many of which move and remain away from their places of origin. By the same token the older modes of effectively absorbing sister's children and the children of 105 strangers into some local lineage are made virtually impossible since one's sondre is "frozen" on the government records and documents. To summarize, we note that a particular sondre generally suggests biological filiation to a given buudu, but it does not necessarily do so. Second, some gggdg are alternate designations for members of the same 222223 that is, children of the same parents may have different Eggdg, Third, a child may gigi_on an ancestor of his father's mother's 222923 of his mother's father's bggd3_or of his patron's bggdg, leading to the assignment of a sondre of that bggdg, Fourth, a sondre in modern times may be simply a "family name"--the sondre of one's father, and possibly of his father's father. Fifth, despite the norms which declare that one does not change one's sondre, they are nonetheless arbitrarily changed by individuals occasionally. Sixth, whereas in the past an assigned sondre tended to encourage and maintain local solidarity at the expense of broad non-localized clan structures, its use now reflects the tendency away from kinship-based lgggl homogeneity toward the establishment of indepth agnatic networks with scattered members simply assigned the figgg§g_of the father. Thus the descendants of strangers who formerly tended to be absorbed locally now tend to retain former identities. On the other hand, dispersal of agnatic kinsmen does not permit corporate action so there is little evidence that these ties will function as significant foci of social organization any more than the rather shadowy "clanship" did in the past, except possibly as a now more clearly designated exogamous unit. In spite of the complexities noted above in regard to both the concept buudu and sondre, most modern Mossi usage of the former term locally 106 assumes a group of agnatic kinsmen who claim direct lineal ties. Here- after, therfore I will employ the general term, lineage, in anthropology for such a group, except where bggdg_may be necessary for greater clarity. Within the lineage many economic, political, Jural, ritual functions are embedded. This entails at least some farming as a corporate unit. Disputes are mediated before an elder of the bggdg_and important decisions, binding upon all, are discussed and made by the adult members. The elder of the lineage at the more limited level of the extended family is generally the one who officiates at most sacrifices to ancestors. Characteristic of lineage organization generally, the eldest male member is the buud kasma, the lineage "elder". Since large lineages may consist of several extended families, such a lineage at its most rudimen- tary level (which Skinner calls babiise above), the buud kasma on the broader level may be the Egg §g§g2_(elder of a quarter) also or even the tang kasma, as the eldest in the village of Ténga was called. The head of an extended family may be referred to as simply k§§m§_ or b§_(father). He exercises authority over labor, land use, marriage, local disputes and is ritual head. He presides over any other matter that involves the group corporately. Ideally all matters are discussed with him. He allocates resources and should see that the rights of all are safeguarded. The lineage, generally expressed on the level of the extended family in Ténga is the land holding unit. Land cannot be alienated by an individ- ual. unused lineage land may be lent to others, however. In principle such land can be reclaimed by the original family or bggdg, In practice only extraordinary circumstances seems to bring this about and in fact in Chapter Eight we find successful resistance to it. There is some 107 effort to discourage long term improvements on borrowed land such as tree planting, in order to prevent complete alienation or serious disputes that this engenders. (On one occasion at Ténga the present chief pulled out trees that were planted on his land by one who was using it.) The extended family is a cooperative production unit. All adults --men and women--work with the family head or kgggg, planting, cultivation and harvesting during the prime hours of the morning during the farming season. Earlier in the morning and in the afternoon the constituent nuclear families and/or individuals are free to farm their own fields. The return from this latter is considered the property of the families or individuals involved. Each level of cooperation reflects also the obligation of the unit head to share in the care of the contributing units. By the same token the proceeds from fields and gardens of individuals belong to the owner to dispose of as he or she desires. This is an economic means for nuclear families as well as for individuals to express relative independence from the lineage. The increase of cash cropping makes such activity especially attractive for the wife who de- sires extra money to buy goods for herslef and her children which a husband or his lineage cannot or does not provide them. Young men are thus able to achieve increased economic independence also. The institution of sonsoaga, communal cultivation, whereby kinsmen and neighbors reciprocally share their labor with each other is of prime importance as a means of labor recruitment at critical periods in the agricultural year. Rights to the labor of each member of an extended family is one aspect of the total social bond between them. The elder has privileges and access to this labor and may assign it to others in the lineage at a more extended level who need assistance. A neighbor (yaks) 108 or a wife's perople (déemba) may call for assistance also. At such times at least some of the males generally go to such a sonsoaaga. Probably the vast maJority of Mossi men leave at some time in life for the coast (Ivory Coast and Ghana particularly) remaining from a few months to several years. There they are able to sell their labor for cash. This is especially attractive during the relatively idle months of the dry season. The idea of the lineage rights over labor give rise to expectations of gain (e.g. tax or bride wealth payments) for all (or at least many) in the lineage from the wages of the migrant laborer- brother. These expectations meet with bitter disappointment often when little or no money is sent or brought home. Even these expressions of disappointment point up the principle involved, however: that of lineage obligations that ideally operate in respect to its members even when change comes. For practical reasons as well as for prestige every head of a home- stead (yirsoaba) and particularly a lineage elder desires to have at least one dakoore (pl. dakoapa, dakwaaba). These are single young men who work and act as retainers for an elder.6 The higher the status, the more such Persons one should have. A chief, therefore, should have more of them than a mere commoner. Although dakéopa are often in a client relation- ship (or may be a minor, lent by an individual who himself is obligated to the head of the homestead and/or lineage elder), young men in the lineage are passed about among brothers in the lineage to perform as such. Their source is less important, as the term bigg_(child, dependent) can be applied either to a child (one's own or that of another member of the 7 lineage) or to a laborer-client from some other lineage. The principal 109 point here, however, is the movement of young men among families of the lineage as the need is present in this corporate group. Girls also are passed to compounds other than their own with the lineage with much greater frequency than young men. A girl still well below the age of puberty has already gained much expertise in domestic arts so they leave the natal homes earlier than boys to assist in another compound. This is an important aspect of the girls' socialization, so it is done even if it means giving up an only daughter to receive the daughter from another compound in the lineage. The relative age of siblings in the lineage is culturally signifi- cant and is linguistically expressed with one term for "younger sibling of the same sex" (1993) and another term for "elder sibling of the same sex" (£225). The sexual difference of siblings is also expressed (though in this instance relative age is ignored in the terminology) in a term indicating "sibling of the opposite sex" (Egg). Formally, brothers have close associations and must cooperate through life. Cultural norms and economic necessity generate behavior that gives the appearance of genuine solidarity. Actually there is often considerable hostility and distance in these relationships, particularly if the age gap is very great, or the elder seems to take extraordinary advantage of his privileged Position. Hostility between their wives can of course exacerbate such problems. On the other hand the brother-sister relationship is generally one of mutual affection and confidence. A sister will assist a brother in contacting a lover and even after her marriage may conspire with her tuother to win a bride for him or his sons from the lineage of her hus- band, sometimes enticing a girl to act counter to the wishes of the latter. A brother will help and defend his sister before an unJust husband if he 110 can. He often provides a home and special assistance (even a wife at times) for her children. Marriages in the customary sense are contracted between two extended families. Therefore, formal negotiations are matters for the elder members to arrange. Since principal rights as those over labor and progency to a large degree plus rights relative to widow inheritance are held by the lineage generally rather than simply by the husband (who has sole sexual rights), this prominence of the elders is seen as entirely proper by Mossi. Greatest responsibility for bride wealth and bride service lies with the groom's extended family generally. However, the broader lineage relationships are always tapped and other segments of the lineage cooperate as they do at a sonsoagga. In fact bride service (performed before the marriage and for some time afterward) is a maJor aspect of the sonsoagga. A bride is formally given to the elder of the extended family. He retains her as his own or passes her to a son or to a younger brother. Sexual rights are granted to one lineage member alone; sexual union with a b_uu§_._ mg (lineage wife) other than one's own is an extremely reprehens- ible act of immorality, carrying with it the severest sanctions. The above indicates that rights in a woman's labor is held by the lineage elder to same degree, by the husband to some degree, while she has freedom to cultivate or sell for her individual profit also. Though ultimate rights in her children are held by the lineage, the desires of the father is generally the primary consideration, especially in regard to marriage. Bride wealth is essentially symbolic among the Mossi and does not consist of gifts of great intrinsic value generally. It expresses the 111 diffuse rights and duties in respect to the bride in particular and the diffuse rights and obligations that all members of a lineage hold in each other and in the transactions conducted by the elders of each lineage. Marriages are generally virilocal. There was only one instance of an uxorilocal marriage brought to my attention. Each co-wife is given her own house for herself and for her smaller children who live with her. A new nuclear family is housed in a segment of the larger compound (53kg). Such a segment or small ggkg_at first may consist of only one house and small wall to give it some privacy from the larger compound. After children are born, the family head has his own house. The women and older girls share not only the field work but also the grain preparation for food, water-carrying, wood gathering for the whole compound. Each woman prepares food for herself, her children and for her husband. If she is part of a polygynous family, she prepares for her husband, taking her turn with other co-wives. At least ideally he accords equally to each wife food grain (he alone has the right to withdraw it from the grannery) and other goods, sexual attention and general concern in respect to her and her children. The elder wife (pogkyema) however in the ritual and Jural sense holds a superior place in relation to the other co-wives, to say nothing of her higher status in respect to her sons' wives. When a marriage is consummated between two lineages, they regard each other as déemba. The term may possibly be translated as "in-law". In similar fashion as the latter concept is applied in English, déemba is a reciprocal term. Anyone in one lineage may refer to anyone in the other as his daemba. Equally, the bride is "our wife" (ton paga). Some 112 social distance exists between members of each lineage on the adult generation and between children of one lineage and adults of the other (although avoidance relationship as it is generally used is hardly appropriate for this type of relationship.) In contrast there is a Joking relationship (dakiire) with a degree of licence allowed in verbal behavior between lineage members of the generation of the bride and groom. When a person dies, he is immediately interred with little ritual. Burial is primarily the responsibility of the sons—in—law and neighbors of the lineage. Months—-sometimes over a year—~later the funeral (kggi) is observed. In the case of a deceased man at this time his wife's (or wives') head is shaved to remove her ritual uncleanliness (yi§_§_dggdg). Then she is given (often at her option) to a brother of the deceased or to a son in the lineage. Widow inheritance was customarily a significant aspect of lineage solidarity and maintenance. The present Christian pro- scription of polygyny and the Moslem rule again taking one's father's wives (though one can inherit a sibling's wives) have played an important part in eroding this solidarity in Ténga. Ritual authority resides primarily with the oldest lineage elder. Since ancestral worship is the dominant ritual expression, such a person is nearest to those members of the lineage in the "shades" (kimkulgg). These latter, like all members of the lineage, must be given food and drink and be assured periodically that the living members are safeguarding the morals and custcms (dogem.miki) which they left with them. These deceased, in the role of elders but now enJoying enchanced supernatural power, have the responsibility to guarantee the fertility of the land 113 and of the lineage wives and to protect the lineage from diaster of all kins. Failure to properly acknowledge them can invite serious problems. Therefore, in keeping with the gerontocratic principle of privilege and of succession throughout the Mossi social and political order, the old- est member of the lineage in the village is the appropriate one to offer sacrifices, pour libations and to address the dead. This is done at planting and harvest, at funerals, and when ever a particular need arises as the extended lack of rain or the severe illness of a member. Members of a mother's lineage are the child's yabramba (the same term which he applies to his paternal grandparents). He is also their yagenga. The expected behavior here also is that of special privilege, guaranteed more formally, specially in respect to the mother' brother (yggbg or Egyggggga "male mother") than that which exists between altern- ate generations in the child's lineage. Special license is granted the child in the yggbgfs yard. Here it is aid that he can take anything that he wishes with impunity. (Though implicit "rules" do not seem to permit very great deviation from the general adult-child behavioral norms.) Cer- tainly, if the y§§b§_is able to improve the lot of his yggenga, the latter often leaves home to live with his yggbg, Although, as I indicate above, a change of bgggg_is formally "impossible", subsequent generations may be absorbed into the mother's bgggg, Such adJustments in the order- ing of kinship relationships may be regarded somewhat on the order of "transformational rules" in the "grammar", whereby affines become con— sanguines and can thus be absorbed into the local lineage. CHAPTER FIVE THE MOSSI VILLAGE This chapter, as well as Chapters Four and Six, may appear at first glance to be presentations of an essentially static view of Mossi society which is condemned in Chapter Two. These chapters are presented, however, to serve definitional and contextual functions primarily. The intention is to make Chapter Eight more easily understood. Egggg is the nearest Mossi equivalent to the English word "village". Yet the Mossi word carries a breath of meaning far beyond "village". Its "meaning" depends greatly upon the context. In possibly the most funda- mental sense £§3g3_(pl. Egggg) means simply "the ground", "the earth". The spatial dimension of it depends upon demographic and political vari- ables. When someone refers to his Egggg in a conversation, he is probably referring to his home town or village. It can, in fact refer to a tiny hamlet. One may, on the other hand, translate the term to mean roughly "country" (e.g. Amerique-ténga, the country of America). "Pure space" in a social or political situation becomes an area of Jurisdiction or of defined cultural Space. Thus, soolem (a Jurisdictional area of a chief) and £§2g2_may be used synonymously in many settings. Koupela is the Kbupela Naaba's t§§g§_or his soolem; Ténga is the Ténga Naaba's t§2g§_or soolem. Common usuage usually seems to assign the latter term to the higher level or organization and tgggg to the village level. Finally, the term Egggngay also be applied to the ritual area over 11h 115 which a particular téngsoaba exercises ritual authority. Such boundaries crosscut political boundaries and are of much less significance in pre— sent Mossi culture. In fact I was never able to clearly ascertain one boundary which separated the tense of two ténggoabandamba in the Ténga area. The Mossi lived in villages (or hamlets) in pre-colonial times dis- persed over the countryside. The population of these aggregates could consist of a few compounds to villages of several hundred in centers of chiefdoms. Exact boundaries of villages which we too often assume in the Western sense are difficult to draw with precision. Boundary ambiguity is undoubtedly correlated with the maintenance of optimal social and economic life within a Mossi village and between villages. Disagreement between informants suggests that inter-village boundaries vary over time depending to some degree upon political conditions and historical events. Pageard admits the problem of demarcating a village by stating: En raison de la dispersion des yiya, la distinction entre le quartier le village et meme 1e canton n'est pas touJours aisée (1967:82). He seeks rather to define it in terms of functions: Le village lui-meme...est une entité sociale artificielle qui a pour fonctions: l) d'arbitrer les litiges entre les buudu lineages du village, 2) d'éviter les contacts trop directs entre buudu de l'intérieur et buudu de l'extérieur en cas de litiges, 3) d'assurer 1a liason avec le kombere ou le dima, c'est-a-dire avec le groupe qui s'est acquis l'authorité sur la region par les armes (1967:67). It may be regarded than as a social field where those occupying political and lineage statuses at this level perform their respective functions. Yet Mossi certainly know where a village is since it is al- ways named and occupies a rather definite locus. A Mossi village always 116 has a ténga naaba—-a village chief. Generally the chief is an ostensible descendant of wedraogo and thus a nakombga in the broadest use of this term. Pageard reports that in fact 80% of the villages have such individuals over them (1969:82). Thus, lineal kinship is a principal support of the political hierarchy of authority, linking chiefs to each other and affording an important basis of legitimating one's claim to rule. Although the rules of succession (whereby the chiefship goes either to a brother or son) are ideally the same at the village level of organi- zation as those at upper levels, a number of other factors Operate as well. The desires of the village elders especially regarding the immedi- ately available candidates are generally considered. The Mossi desire a competent chief and thus may in effect reJect those who would be most eligible in terms of the formal rules in order to choose a more effective leader. (E.g. not the oldest, nor even of the immediate family of the former chief is necessarily chosen.) Second, although a candidate should be a "true Mossi"-—a descendant of Mossi chiefs, the lineage associations of most members of the population suggests that the maJority could some how meet this criterion. Thus the number of potentially eligible candidates increases greatly at this level. Third, customarily the ultimate choice and investiture of the village chief lay with the immediately superior chief, (a kombere) or the paramount chief of the whole area. Given the second and third conditions, several persons within a given chiefdom (and possibly not even from the village in question) may seek the chiefship. This is especially true if, besides one's nakomse 117 status, an aspirant has carefully cultivated an effective relationship (through gifts, marriage, service, etc.) with a powerful minister-Eggbg_ in the court of the kombere or paramount chief and/or with the latter himself. At least one instance that I encountered suggests to me that the chiefship may be withheld for years from any candidate by a superior chief. Direction and the maintenance of order is simply in the hands of the ranking lineage elder or eldest relative of the erstwhile chief, individuals who are to keep order but who for some reason are not granted the chiefship. In the past while the desires of local elders could be overridden by a superior chief, since independence in Upper Volta, local option has gained ascendance. A chief now can be chosen by popular vote. Given the complex nature of crosscutting social ties between members of a given area, this may not amount to the kinds of change which seems apparent on the surface since the network of reciprocal social obligations does not simply evaporate with the promulgation of a national edict. 0n the other hand, as the observations will show, this may create a shift of power with important consequences in some elections. A Mossi village is internally segmented into quarters (sa se, sg. Eggg). At this particular level of political integration and spatial distribution that we encounter the merger of kinship principles and terminology with those associated with non-kinship organization. Thus, while Skinner defines §3g§g_as "spatial units, sectors, quarters, or neigh- borhoods" (196hz25), Hammond describes each §g§g as a "core of agnatic male kinsmen who together with their wives and children comprise the principal membership of a separate residential kin group, the 118 patriclan..." (1967:11h). Both of the above are in fact correct. The formation of the quarter begins with the establishment of a homestead (yiigg, pl. yiyg) which through time expands and segments into several contiguous yiygg_ Slowly the area takes on the qualities of the larger ggkg over which the eldest agnatic kinsman (§§k_k§§g§) has Jural and ritual authority on the basis of his ascribed status. As an occupant of such a status, he represents this Spatial expression of the lineage (bggdg) in the village council before the village chief. In this capacity he acts as counsellor to the chief. Thus the status of quarter elder (ggk_k§§fl§) is two-faceted. He is the ranking elder of his lineage at this level. On the other hand he may be regarded as holding the lowest position of authority in the Mossi hierarchy. (though kasengo--authority of an elder--and Baggy-authority vested in the chiefship-are conceptualized somewhat differently by the Mossi as the diverse terminology indicates.) Into most quarters sooner or later come strangers who are non-kinsmen. These are given land on which to build homes and which they can cultivate. Structurally such people become quasi lineal kinsmen, obtaining many of the rights and obligations which the kinsmen of the quarter have. (Later I seek to show how their descendants may become dg_fg£tg_kinsmen.) They with their fellow-residents, ideally look to the quarter elder as leader and arbiter in disputes as well as their representative and go—between before the village chief and the village council.l Some quarters are explicitly "stranger" quarters, whose elder is himself of this stranger status. There are two Yarse Quarters for ex- ample at Ténga. Another one, yet termed Silmisi (the Mossi name for 119 Fulbe) indicates the presence formerly of Fulbe in the village. Due to the nature of the technological exploitation of the land, Mossi villages tend to be quite dispersed generally. In this way the residents will be nearer their fields and also be able to cultivate a larger "home field" which is fertilized to some extent. It is well to note also here that a quarter may or may not be somewhat spatially sepa- rated. Boundaries of some quarters are rather clear; in fact some may be set apart by "bush" or fields between them and others. Sometimes, however, the members of a village are hard put to point out the boundar- ies between contiguous ggggg, Some quarters are therefore somewhat rep moved from the center of the village. Over a period of time one of these may be transformed into a village in its own right. Its elder (or perhaps some other person) could then be accorded the chiefship. Elders at Ténga remember when this occurred there. One aspect of this study is to show how as new and diverse bases of support entered a quarter in recent decades, a shift from.gg_Jggg_ authority recognized by the chief and some village elders to dg_£ggtg_ power exercised by persons other than the elder took place. Wealth, and prominance in modern political, economic and religious structures are means, for example, of providing the basis for such power. Just as there is ambiguity in rights of succession at every formal political level, there is evidence that conflicts may similarly arise over the eldership, involving rights over decisionemaking in the quarter. Internal segmentation as well as the inclinations of the village chief operate in this limited social field to some measure. Within the quarter are territorial and kinship entities which inter- relate, (since they represent two aspects of a single social process) but 120 which may be discussed separately possibly with greater profit. Spatially a quarter is made up of a number of z§gese (sg. gggg). Hammond erroneously employs this concept to designate the nuclear family (1966:120). (There is in fact gg_word that I have ever heard in More for "nuclear family". This is no doubt due to the fact that such a kinship group was simply not a viable social unit in pre-colonial society.) Egkg_is another "elastic" term in More that can designate a cultural feature at several levels and dimensions. A ggkg_may be seen as the living space and buildings of a group of lineal kinsmen, generally enclosed by a wall of adobe or of grass mats. A 5253 constitutes the living space for a large extended family which may consist of several large polygynous or monogamous families. On the other hand, a single monogamous nuclear family may be the sole occupants of a ggkg, A large g§§§_is segmented generally into lesser ggggg (e.g. the 39kg of a son and his family within the larger £353 of his father or elder) each containing one or more houses (d939, sg. dggg), generally round and of adobe with thatched roofs (though rectangular houses with corrugated roofs are increasing in number.) Another concept mentioned above, yiigg, can and is often used synonymously with gagg, However, Just as English words as "house" or "yard" carry a slightly different semantic content than "home" or "homestead", we have a rather parallel case in More with these two con- cepts. In English and More there are both synonymy and some area of distinctiveness. A.zii£g_is a social unit or homestead of about as many dimensions as indicated for a zaka. It includes a varied number of residences for the 121 family or families within. Unlike the concept ggkg, however, a yii£g_is not internally segmented. (e.g. One does not have small yiyg_within a larger yiiggj only smaller Spatial units, zggese, are conceptualized.) A yéigg.contains dwellings for non-lineals (in-laws, matrilateral kins— men, strangers) also who live with the rest of the family. While yiigg_ generally refers to one 5553, if a Sibling or son builds a separate yard nearby, each 2353 may have the designation of yiigg, On the other hand a person ggz_refer to the whole area as a single yiiggf-one which has two contiguous ggggg, It should be noted also that often (perhaps always, ideally) a single young man builds a house Just outside the Egggg yet it is regarded as part of the yiigg. Thus yiigg_is more inclusive than the term ggk§_and should be seen as having two aspects of meaning, Spatial and social. It seems to be analogous to §§k§_at a broader level where the spatial and the social dimensions are interwined. The head of a yiire is the yiirsoaba (pl. yiirsoabandamba, the head or "owner" of the home). Often this title is used synonymously with Egg. §93b3_(head or "owner" of the yard or compound) and in most contexts they may be interchangeably employed. However, when referring to the heads of families, which are socially separate from minors (e.g. in such matters as voting or taxation or adJudication), one hears the term "yiirsoaba"-—the head of a household. The above effort to differentiate the concepts g§k§_and.yii£g_may not be totally successful, for the culture itself does not make the distinction clear. Equally, any effort to show a clear difference between levels of yiyg_(or, in effect, levels of kinsmen) bears little fruit, as the Mossi themselves found in the interesting example which Skinner give us from a 122 modern urban context. In this case a municipal councillor at the capital, Ouagadougou, proposed a "household tax"... ...but the council could not make up its mind what a household head was. Was it the head of a nuclear family? Or the head of an extended family in one household or in several households?... (1972:12—13). 123 Non—kinship Groups and Specialists There are other modes of structuring relationships in a Mossi village than through kinship or political ties. In pre-colonial days such modes were generally not nearly as powerful or as pervasive as the latter types. If in the past age groups did exist in the communities in the Koupela district, at present there is little, if any, trace of them. Hammond decleared that age grades exist in Yatenga but admits that even there they did not "fulfill any corporate functions" (1967:136). I observed no formal age grades or age set organizations anywhere among the present-day Mossi. Generally cooperative endeavors have been organized either on a kinship or neighborly basis (for cultivation) or by the political admini- stration (for public works). Markets among the Mossi follow a three day cycle arrangement. A market is shifted from one locus to another each day, returning to the same point each third day. Within the context of these markets, ties between craftsmen are constantly reinforced and are reflected generally by a single location or section in the market place for each group. In- digenous craftsmen such as blacksmiths (gggbg), smiths of precious metals, brass and other soft metals (nygagese), leather workers (ggpgr ramba), dyers of cloth in indigo (gare losdba), butchers (nimkoasramba), as well as makers of rOpes and mats all enJoy a somewhat guild-like bond between individuals of the same craft. Most of these crafts were customarily passed from father to son and the economic and professional nature of these ties were simply reinforcing bonds of the underlying kinship tie. However, in present-day culture there is only part congruence between the kinship and occupational variable. Moslem Yarse have brought 12h their Mossi co—religionists into metal working. Among the butchers the Yarse now share their tasks with different Mossi lineages and at least one Beghre. The role of the artisan has been reduced in the Mossi culture also due to the great influx of foreign manufactures of similar products now easily available at attractive prices in the market. This also has discouraged sons from following the trade of an artisan father. Sellers of particular products, whether indigenous or foreign, also have their place in the market. They are placed in particular sections where they sell salt, kerosene, native medicines, kola nuts and of course the products of craftsmen listed above. This applies equally to petty merchants who set up stands for selling foreign made goods. In a rural market such as that found in Ténga women are the principal sellers of basic foodstuffs as millet, corn, condiments for sauce, and milk (generally sold by Fulbe women). The other roles of Mossi women in the past compounded with the secondary role of the market in indigenous culture as a means of exchange have resulted in women (in rural areas) not generally being as involved in the market as those in certain other West African societies (e.g. Igbo, Yoruba). Butchers, kola nut merchants and retailers of manufactured goods particularly depend upon ties in other markets. Religious and ethnic relationships are often important factors in the establishment of Optimal trade relationships. This attention given to the market has not been an effort to examine the economics of a Mossi village in detail. Rather it has been directed to social ties which are associated with economic activities. The signi- ficance of this becomes clearer in Chapter Seven. 125 Many villages now have an elementary school. A more recent develop- ment, the Ecole Rurale, offers the rudiments of elementary education along with practical arts, especially in the areas of better agricultural methods. These educational institutions create important bonds between the students which is expressed through language (French) and a changing life style which effectively sets them apart in any village as individuals enJoying privileged access to important resources in the field and ARFE. Besides the presence of the school teachers other agents of govern- ment services are often found in Mossi villages. Some of these are agricultural agents, an agent for the improvement of animal husbandry, and sometimes medical technicians. Though they may be linked to the resident villagers in a number of ways, they themselves constitute a privileged social class based on literacy, occupation and relative superior wealth. In Chapter Three various groups were mentioned that were on the land when the Mossi conquorers arrived. Many of these people are still living among the Mossi. They are, however, largely identified with the Mossi linguistically and in most other aspects of culture quite similar if not essentially identical. There are, on the other hand, ethnic groups which have come in and which generally remain distinct in significant respects. The most distinct are the Hausa. Although they generally speak some More, they retain their own language. They are Moslem and thus differ in a number of cultural respects from most Mossi. Their role as traders primarily means that they are not found in small villages as in market towns. The Fulbe are much more numerous and are found throughout the land, 126 herding not only their own animals but those of the Mossi as well, in return for the milk products. Like the Hausa they speak More but they have also retained their own language. Their life style as herders is very distinct from that of a sedentary agricultural Mossi. Formally they are Moslem, though apparently much less strict in Observances than the Hausa. Wifely role expectations among herders and cultivators are much different, hence there is relatively little intermarriage between the Fulbe and Mossi. Long ago traders from the Mali area came into the Mossi territory. These are referred to by the Mossi as Yarse (sg. Yarga). They no longer have a distinct language and in most respects are culturally similar to the Mossi. They, like the Fulbe, are generally considered to be Moslem and indeed have certain Islamic cultural characteristics. There seems to be a long history of intermarriage between them and the Mossi, however. The cultural (particularly religious) divergence has apparently been Just sufficient to have created a situation which made interdependence and intermarriage more attractive to the Mossi than absorption which seems to have been the case with some more indigenous groups. In the Koupela area there are only a few hundred Hausa. The Fulbe are more numerous (between 2000 or 3000) but they are generally with their herds and less involved in village life. Yarse, somewhat more numerous than the Fulbe, figure prominently in the social organization in many of the villages since they are sedentary and more similar culturally. While the ritual significance of indigenous peiple as téngsoabandamba may be recognized, they are regarded essentially as "Mossi" by the average person. Such is not the case for the Fulbe and Yarse, who remain more 127 distinct. Though these groups generally constitute a rather small minority, they may represent important social cleavages and groups in a village. As the above has already reflected, it is clear that local society today may be organized along religious grounds. Although the maJority of Mossi remain what has been termed "animists", it has already been pointed out that Islam and Christianity have thousands of adepts. Allegiance to these more universalistic religions is rather variable, as is the degree of continued acceptance of what might be called the indigenous beliefs and practices. Although much of the everyday social intercourse is carried on between all three groups in terms of the cultural heritage which they all share, there is always some degree of divergence in cultural practice. Most prominent are customs affecting marriage, diet and ritual. The more devout the individual the deeper the cleavage and the greater tendency to give other bonds of solidarity pri- ority. With the erosion of supports for the chiefship and strong lineage organization Moslem and Christian groups often furnish important foci or organization in villages. Active party politics does not have a long history in Upper Volta. As is the case in any country, more thickly populated urban areas are the primary targets of party organization. However, in many villages there are those who are politically active. Thus on a rather modest scale political factions have sought to mobilize the whole or parts of villages. The relative lack of SOPhistication both with the electoral process as well as the nature of national issues has generally left most villagers in the position to follow the advice of their more traditional leaders on 128 electoral matters. As I have already mentioned, however, most Of my research was carried out during a period when active political activity was proscribed by the military—led government. Thus it was virtually impossible to assess adequately the impact of party politics on village social organization. Though not organized even into loosely organized groups, there are always certain specialists in Mossi society on the local level which figure prominently in the social process. Customarily, none are full- time. Besides the artisans mentioned above, two others are particularly important-~the diviner (bggg, p1. bggbg) and the "medicine person" (tiimsoaba, p1. tiimsoabandamba). The diviner identifies malevolent beings, for example, a §g§y§_(pl. soaaba, one who consumes a person's spirit and thus causes his death: a "witch" or often in French literature, "sorcier"). He may give directions on any variety of matters such as assigning a sondre to a child or ad- vising someone regarding future plans or past or present difficulties. The Moslem diviner uses beads (pgébi) rather than the variety of materials (nuts, bones, cowrie shells, wood and metal obJects) which the indigenous diviner uses. In the area of my research I did not find the Moslem diviner to be a serious competitive threat to the indigenous one. These latter command a great deal of respect. Mossi of all types go to them, whether they be Moslem, Christian or adepts of the more customary beliefs. One, incidentally, seeks a diviner outside one's village generally, it would seem, in order to be sure of a more valid and "ObJective" inter- pretation of a given situation. While a diviner is easy to identify, the matter of a "medicine person" is more difficult. Just as there are many types of human problems there are like. practitioners"? for others are Before see it would be pro briefly two 3405 social person. Often one 1 health” or "go: asst educated 35: 0f the term. La - “ll-being. Ra‘ psychological an ment cones , one '. 129 there are likewise many types of medicine. There are no "general practitioners"; although it appears that some persons who make 3233. for others are more specialized than others. Before seeking to explain the role of this person in Mossi society, it would be profitable to digress somewhat at this point and discuss briefly two Mossi concepts which impinge directly on this important social person. These concepts are l§§£§_and tiig, Often one hears or reads translators glossing the word lggfi as "health" or "good health" (in French, lg_§gg£§). I believe, and probably most educated Mossi would agree, that this is an inadequate interpretation of the term. L223; suggests a broader semantic domain than mere physical well-being. Rather it refers to a sense of well-being in every regard: psychological and social as well as physical. Thus if death or disappoint- ment comes, one's "§§g£i_kngg§ i yg" ("heart is not well"). If there has been some overt conflict in a village, one may refer to the absence of l§g§i_among peOple. If physical illness strikes, one may indicate in a general way that he does not have lg§£i_or one may refer to a particular area or organ which is not lggfi. I suggest that this broad application of the term 1§§£i_points up the very different view of a phenomenal world than that held in EurOpean or Europeanized societies. The latter maintain a rather net cleavage between things psychical or "spiritual", things social, and things physical. Discounting our metaphorical analogies, English reflects a view of the essential separateness of these domains. This means that dysfunction in any one has its associated special causes and thus its particular remedies both appropriate to that domain of reality. The above, I believe, suggests that Mossi do not share snc‘r. iysfunctio remedies a ly Hossi n s 1 : ~ .ors inner. izations a not requir 0f analyse 0: categoz- hPlanetig this. The 13 more 63 M§§ 1.“: the semen: x t "M for t 3693 diva 130 share such assumptions about the nature of things and thus do not see dysfunction as stemming from completely different bases nor do they view remedies as necessarily so different from one domain to another. Certain- ly Mossi make rational connections between empirically discernible fac- tors which they can perceive, and they make their own scientific general- izations as any people do. Yet adaptational pressures have evidentally not required or made profitable in Mossi culture the kinds and levels of analyses which have evolved in the European tradition. Thus modes of categorizing natural phenomena has evolved in a different manner. Explanations and possible rectifications of problem situations flow from this. Therefore, given their conception lééfin their conception of tiim_ is more easily understood. T§i§_is often glossed as I pointed out above as "medicine". However, the semantic domains of the two terms differs somewhat. Tiig_is the anti- dote for the absence of lgg§i_however the latter is expressed. Tiig_ seems always to be a substance, although the application of tii§_(for good or ill) does not depend upon physical contact in some cases. In spite of the fact that it is at least in part material substance, the pgggg which inheres within it is essentially supernatural-~metaphysical-- in its operation. Tiig_is employed to overcome "spiritual" forces, even though symptoms before and after are clearly of a physical nature. When a person is ill, then, tiig may be ingested or placed on his body or in his clothes, or it may not contact his physical person at all and yet be Just as effective. Elig_may of course bring destruction and thus be a form of what is commonly termed "sorcery" in American and British anthropological literature. Such tiim equally may or may not physically Ho 5“. u I. "1:. :18 .u‘ _- + ’ Shantl. l . 131 contact the individual who is the obJect of an enemy's design. A tiimsoaba (pl. tiimsoabandamba) is one who has and who administers 5:12, He may be seen as an herbalist who has acquired considerable scientific knowledge of the medicinal qualities of local vegetal matter. He may, on the other hand, be a purveyor of a wide variety of substances which may have no intrinsic physical therapeutic value (and for that matter may never contact the individual anyway). Such "medicines" allegedly ameliorate virtually the whole gamut Of human physical, psychical and social problems such as making one's wife faithful, in- suring the loving attention of a husband, keeping thieves away from one's fields or gardens, making one invisible or invincible, giving one advantage in trading, cultivation or love making, as well as bringing relief from physical ailments. The effects may likewise be wholly negative. Reported effects and the verdict of the bggg indicate this to be so. Such piig_may consist of either an ingested poison or it may act from a distance in what a Westerner would label as a purely magical fashion. There is Of course Eiig_designed to counter such negative 311g, For example, there seems to have been a kind of mystical duel going on for some time between a wealthy Mossi farmer and a Fulbe herder near Ténga while I was on the field. The Fulbe's piig_weakened the farmer. For some time the latter successfully countered the negative piig;with an antidote. Finally, according to my informants, the negative pii§_ overcame the power Of the other and the farmer died rather suddenly one day. Given this broad meaning which the culture assigns to the concept tiim, the tiimsoaba occupies an important place in the society. Even with the ad‘. nodes of ex; pensa‘ole. 1 expertise O Tieslen, Chr Toe village .3: 25;; a nee "he Hanan 1. and visitef Q In ‘ \ o , in. \ ‘u 11063» :‘nkw “Wiezs’ 1. , qe tErm ?1 \ 132 with the advent and availiability of European medicine and alternate modes of explanation of man's various ills, such a person remains indis— pensable. Apparently all strata of society avail themselves of the expertise of these men, the schooled or the unschooled, young and old, Moslem, Christian or those who retain more of the indigenous beliefs. The village elder of Ténga was reported to have had powerful anti-rabies £22m; a nearby Yarga provided tiim_that assisted in marital difficulties. One woman left the hospital at Koupela with a child she felt was dying and visited a tiimsoaba en route home who affected a cure for the child. Some individuals are rather well-known as "medicine persons", others are not so designated but occasionally treat individuals nonetheless. Tiim, and therefore tiimsoabandamba, have become less effective for two reasons I was told. First, piig_has been misused and therefore no longer has power (23252). It is to be used for the general social good, having been given the ancestors by God (Wennam) originally for this reason. In recent times makers and dispensers of tiim;have become greedy and use their knowledge simply as a means of selfish gain. Given the rather animistic view of £21m) informants indicated that such nonsocial behavior generated an adverse reaction within the £112, "A_p§_§§kdg_y§" ("It doesn't work" or "it doesn't Obey"). A second reason is that many problems, and particularly diseases, are not "Mossi" but rather Nasara (the term for European or white people). Thus it is not unreasonable that foreign ills need 321$ appropriate to them. However, since I found that on occasion students seeking to pass their examiniations resorted to certain tiim, it is apparent that it need not always be regarded as being so. The situation reflects rather the adaptational process in the popula1 who are cre Tzese latte mtomaril; 133 the population relative to new kinds of stresses and to the role of the tiimsoaba. A final category of persons in most villages consists of individuals who are creators and players of musical instruments, primarily drums. These latter serve a number of important functions. Certain types have customarily served the chroniclers. In the past others served with armies in the field. Today any festive occasion among the rural people will produce some drumming. They are necessary to keep the cadence for communal hoeing and later for threshing grain. Even agricultural activities which do not require this rhythmic beat often end up with drinking and dancing which requires drumming. Calendrical rituals and feasts as well as those associated with rites of passage generally require that professional drummers be called. Such feasts may be indigenous but there will be drumming (and probably dancing) even if it is a national or religious affair. Modern political rallies also enlist the aid of drummers and dancers. As the village begins to relax a bit during the harvest time, one will often hear drumming and possibly singing accompanied by dancing in an individual's compound where friends have simply gathered for an evening of entertainment. Indigenous forms of music and dancing are a rather universal expression among all groups in the village. Instrumentalists--as well as their music--offer a means of uniting large segments of the population through a common idiom, thus contributing a measure of social solidarity where other aspects of the culture may generate cleavages. CHAPTER SIX THE VILLAGE OF TENGA Ténga straddles the main road between Koupela and Tenkodogo. The tax roll of 1970 indicates 100 heads of households and about 800 inhabi- tants. The actual count of those who claim Ténga as their home may run slightly over this number. On the other hand due to migration for work in neighboring countries and other matters that take the inhabitants from their homes from a few months to several years, the actual head count might run 700 or less at any time.1 There are about 120 compounds. The actual count depends upon one's criteria for lumping or splitting groups. Several appear as single house- holds on the tax rolls, but members may occupy separate living quarters, grouped relatively independent of each other economically. Others are listed as separate households, but cooperate with nearby kinsmen as much as the former. The village is strung along the road for about one-half mile. On the left hand side is the market place and grinding mills, the mosque, the elementary school, the homes of the school teachers and the agricultural agent, and the compound of the present village chief. There are two small quarters on this side of the road. On the right hand side of the road the major portion of the popu— lation and land is to be found. Six or seven quarters (the count depends upon who is speaking) are located there. Their boundaries and, in some cases, their leadership are questions of conjecture among the people 13h themselves. just beyond in the vill gouris, tot.~ Toward in earlier causeway ov some water ”A dry see 5 (D 0'; 135 themselves. Most of the fields, and especially the richer lowland is found Just beyond the main inhabited areas. Among all the homesteads even with- in the village are scattered "home fields" (kakako) where earlier grains, gourds, tobacco, and vegetables for sauce can be grown. Toward the southern boundary of the village runs a small river which in earlier years dried up during the dry season. Since 1958 a concrete causeway over which the main road runs-—acts as a dam which conserves some water through the year. On the lower side of the dam fruit trees and dry season gardens are cared for by a few individuals. Also on this side of the road is the Catholic church, the local catechist and children of former chiefs who came from Koupela. The catechist and latter group are close classifictory kinsmen of the Koupela Naaba. The terrain is a generally flat, sloping gently toward the river to the south and west. There are some outcrOppings of huge boulders, in particular about three-fourths of a mile to the west, suggesting some rather important tectonic activity in the past. For the local populace these represent special sites of supernatural activity. The growing of millet--both white and red--is the primary sub— sistence activity here. During the rains corn, beans, peanuts, ground peas are also grown. The richer lowlands have been divided into plots where many villagers (and some from outside the village) grow wet rice, an important cashcroP. Another cashcrop, cotton, as well as manioc are cultivated, although their growing season is longer and such fields must be enclosed generally by a b§g£g_of plaited millet stalks. This is necessary to keep out the animals, which are turned loose to forage as 9 I h. 5350 85 ”IV .5...- SCH: LET O V \ ES '8: y . ACES ‘ nan. 59.0 v A‘ yeanS, upn. iov + v S nCt a. *3 fl :4 d 136 soon as the other crops are harvested. Ténga in pre-colonial times was much less populous. However, the French decided to run the road by the village and later built a campement (rest house and administrative gathering point for the nearby villages), thereby enhancing the importance of the village. Today Ténga hosts a rather important market every three days and is the center for outside contacts with the local population in such matters as voting, vaccination projects, cotton-buying, official convocations for Ténga and six surrounding villages. The village chief has held his position since 196M when he was appointed by the administration following a vote in his favor by the majority of the heads of households in the village. At that time he was about hO years old. He is a classificatory kinsman of the last local chief which was deposed by the French about 1923 or l92h. He served about 3 years in the French army and therefore speaks and understands some French. Like many of the chiefs recruited under the Koupela Naaba, he considers himself a Christian. He lives at the eastern edge of the village, isolated to some degree from most of the village. His compound is not at all elaborate and in fact is much more modest than that of the man who was his predecessor and who is his political rival. Although he holds genuine or putative kinship ties with the majority of the village, these people had been unable to choose their own chief since about 1928. From about this date until the above election, the Koupela Naaba's brothers and children have either formally held the chiefship or exercised administrative control over the village informally. Thus, during this long and important period of development in the village, imposed chiefs from Koupe become the the rest 0 .oere of these a Yarse fan: Toe leadin my, a t-io to doubt t The s 137 from Koupela and their families have taken over and developed what has become the more central area. It is much more densely pOpulated than the rest of the village. There are two quarters inhabited predominantly by Moslems. Most of these are Yarse. The first, Siganvuse, is the home of the oldest Yarse families who are said to have come with the founders of the village. The leading imgm_lives here and is in charge of the local mosque. Form- ally, a Moaga is the k§§m§_of the quarter. In point of fact no one seems to doubt that the imam_and his family are in charge of most policy making. The second Moslem quarter is found almost a mile away from the road. An elderly imam, a Yarga of another lineage, is a dominant figure here. A descendant of one of the earlier founders of the quarter is the official spokesman for the few matters which transpire between the people and the chief. The interpretation of Islam is somewhat less strict in this area and more intimate social contact is found between them and the rest of the village. Another quarter seems to have been dominated, at least more recently, by former slaves of the chiefs. One older informant spoke of their dis- persal into other quarters a recent phenomenon. These people now consist of four different lineages, although all carry the same sondre, Beghre. At present only one such lineage is in the quarter, the group which has closest ties to the present chief's family. Tweese is a small quarter that tends to overlap another village. The inhabitants are rather mixed together in the area. No one seemed to be able to point to a very definite boundary there. The elder is a former principal stable boy for Kugri, the chief from 1928 to 1952. A somewhat idealized picture of Mossi village administration may show , . -28? S (D a“, ,. Uue‘e. Q. :. “cu- F” .-‘v‘ Q. ‘ Q . :‘4’ F's . ~‘vbn k.. ‘ 138 elders of quarters acting as councillors in the administration of the village. Although elderly men came on occasion, rarely if ever was this elder seen taking part in any litigation or discussion when others were there. He holds stranger status and is younger than most elders. Two other quarters are rather sparsely populated. One contains the elder of the oldest lineage (and is therefore the "village elder"). As ' and such he has not looked kindly upon 36 years of rule by "outsiders' in fact left the village for several years. Several others in these quarters hold rather tenuous kinship ties to the elder and to the chief's family. Still others, who are Yarse, practice Islam in a much less than fervent or orthodox manner than do others in the village in the Yarse quarters mentioned above. The quarter of Goéaga in some respects seems hardly to be part of Téngfi. While all other quarters are contiguous to each other (except Tweese which is separated only but the river), Goaaga is separated by two miles of "bush". The area is considered part of Ténga, but it contains primarily persons of stranger status. In times past it was more densely populated. It was of considerable importance as an escape route to the nearby Ouagadougou chiefdom boundary during internecine wars and during the forced labor era. Now, however, it is not only on the peri— phery spatially but also socially of Ténga. As suggested in former chapters, the bggdg_is important in Mossi culture. In Ténga, as elsewhere, its size is relative. The predominant sondre in the village is Belemkoabga. This is the "praise name" of one of a former chief of Koupela. Thus, one is told, those who hear this sondre are "buud ngg, bumb a_y§" ("the same sort or lineage", "the same 139 thing"). Therefore most of those who claim this, claim kinship ties to each other. There are twenty—three extended families of two or more compounds. Direct links can be traced among kinsmen living together within them, Of these, eleven also claimed ties of sambiidu (collateral) kinship with each other as Belemboabga people. There were a few also who had a sondre which was different but who claim to be very near kin to them as well (for reasons already dealt with in Chapter Four). Though there seems to be few discriminations against this erstwhile slave class, they continue to serve some ritual functions on occasion--at least those who have not become either Christian or Moslem. The compounds containing the descendants of the imposed chief con— stitutes a separate lineage. In addition, relatives of the rather impor- tant Pwitenga Naaba (who is over a large market town in the Koupela district) make up four compounds-~four brothers and their families. One is an outstanding cultivator of rice, one of the few remaining parttime hunters around. While others may be absorbed locally after two or three generations, the status of all of these naabiise, close to the chiefship in Koupela and Pwitenga does not make absorption attractive at all. Their social ties outside the village are often with wealthier and more power- ful individuals than any one in the local social field. There are about 6 separate but small Yarse lineages. Besides these there are several individual Yarse families some with the same sondre as these lineages but which exhibit little or no close kinship ties with them. No particular cooperation between them is noted. Lineages wherein clearly recognized kinship exists (and not the more tenuous sambiidu relationship) generally act as tax paying units, units 11:0 for recruiting labor and bridewealth assistance, the group in which a wife can and must be inherited, the group which contributes to funeral (5233) expenses, and the primary social group for dispute settlement. However, some of these which consist of 2 or more compounds segment for taxpaying and other functions. This independence from each other, however, is relative. The situation based on several variables, will often be the key to the level at which lineage ties are recognized and mobilized. In some matters, as purchasing personal items of cashcropping, for example, the nuclear family or even the individual may be the significant unit in the transaction with the broader network essentially excluded. When it was a matter of cultivating the staple food, millet, the extended family was the basic production unit where it existed. When sacrifices were made to the ancestors, the lineage, expressed rather as an extended family, was the significant unit. Yet there are occasions as at Bas a, the yearly time of sacrifice not only to ancestors but to the founder of the village, when even those related by sambiidu ties which cannot be clearly traced are brought together ritually as a single body of kinsmen. When the present chief was elected it would seem that the marshalling of kin- ship ties of this sort played a major role in his success. i; In Ténga migration, cashcropping, market economics, party politics, the advent of ideas embodied in Christianity and Islam all have provided negative supports for lineage solidarity in many social processes. Women and young men have gained increased access to information and other resources denied them earlier. In their hands such have often proved inimical to lineage norms and ideals. However, since the lineage is still a highly functional social unit (at its several levels), it often acts to turing ; denies a permit a 'fi ne 5“ v.5". . J U! L1 0 (f 11. Be: betwe en CHI‘GSS‘ ‘1 n (I) lhl acts to reduce the cleavage-making phenomena in the present—day -struc- turing process. The result is a rather dynamic tension that neither denies associational ties nor allows them to become so dominant as to permit anything like complete abrogation of lineage ties. Even today is not even a person"). Besides explicit lineage ties there are alliance-like relationships between certain members of one lineage and those of another. Some are expressed as affinal ties. There are, for example, two compounds of Yarse which are sister's sons to chiefly lineages. There are also a few relationships which may be termed patron-client where there is some de- gree of economic and ritual cooperation. Given the diverse options of present day society, these units are set apart very little and the cooperation is essentially one of voluntary c00peration, though based on special historical antecedents. (for example, a descendant of one client who arrived during the forced—labor days became guilty of a particularly scandalous kind of behavior yet his "patron" was apparently powerless to take effective action against the children of his former client.) At least one lineage of Beghre people were regarded by some to be under some obligation to the chief's lineage. In turn the chief seemed to make their conflicts a matter of special concern to himself. One day, referring to them and his own lineage, he remarked "Egg y§_bgm§ E yg:_("we are the same thing." At least in certain matters they were to act as one group seems to have been the implication.) As to formal religious affiliation in the village the numbers are v-v . ‘ SCWE .‘e 38.7.8 . 7 P '58“; «a ‘n-a 'A‘fi ‘ gdcfl lh2 roughly the following: customary Mossi beliefs and practices, 350; Moslems, 32S; and Christians, 150. Generally the family follows the lead of the family head, but there are many exceptions to this rule. Wives are generally assumed to share the religion of her husband yet she may in fact change to another religion when she becomes part of another yard. Names quite often give an indication of religious affiliation. However, a Christian who has not yet been baptized will retain his Mossi name. In regard to a matter discussed earlier when a woman is advised to give birth to a baby in the home of a Yarga or a Fulbe, the child may bear a Moslem name, but may in fact not be a Moslem, at least in most respects except in the matter of certain taboos. As indicated above, when one becomes affiliated with some non- customary Mossi institution, boundary phenomena are most generally kept to a minimum. Lineage norms and other Mossi beliefs and practices and the bonds which they reflect yield to change but not quickly or radically. In Ténga most Moslems know little about Islam; most cannot read, and most do not pray regularly. A Moslem is a person who refrains from drinking alcohol (at least publicly), does not personally offer sacrifices to the ancestors or other supernatural beings, and has declared himself a Moslem formally (£221). A Christian is one who may marry but one wife, does not personally offer sacrifices to ancestors or other supernatural beings and has been baptized (dege soobo). Both these groups karem (read, particularly sacred books, which implies some particular ritual as well.) Those who are neither Moslem nor Christian and who follow Mossi custom, practice polygyny much as Moslems do, (though only siblings' widows may be inherited by the more orthodox Moslems while Mossi custom 5 each lea? h‘f: " "“3: QttEr. 1&3 allows the inheritance of wives of father's generation as well). Custom- ary Mossi drink alcohol with the Christians. The above stated matters plus a relatively few food taboos and the particular ritual practices of each leave much of daily life untouched by differences. Mossi dogem miki (custom) dominates most practices and ideals. For example, not one person. from any of the three categories was found who did not believe in the presence of soaaba and, therefore, believed also in the standard Mossi practice of bringing such a situation under control. Apparently all consult diviners to some degree (or depend on some relative to do it for them in times of special stress and need). There are generally individuals in the lineage who can and do offer sacrifices and pour libations on behalf of their Moslem and Christian brothers. Although certain economic, political or territorial cooperation was congruent with religious ties, the congruence may have its basis in habitual association in large part and not be necessarily the direct result of some "causal" effect found in religious ideology generally. Godparent/godchildren ties within the mission constitute a set of structural ties within the village and beyond it. This entails gift— giving, the sharing of parental responsibility. It may in some cases be socially advantageous for the less privileged child as it is in other area of the world where this practice is found. The child's birthday is remembered and a special meal and prayers are sometimes shared with the godparents. Up to this point this has not become a dominant characteristic of the village, possibly due to the lack of time depth. The Christians are a minority also so this may have some bearing on the matter. lhh One last matter on the structure of belief and ritual of a religious nature regards the téngama (sg. téngande), sacred topographical features which may possibly be referred to as "earth shrines". Those in Ténga are approached not by the nearest téngsoaba (earth "priest" or custodian) (ct. Skinner 1959:5f) but by the elders of lineages of the village. The spring planting ritual and prayers to several of these téngama were made by the village elder, who is a member of the Belemkoabga lineage. Although there is much to suggest more involvement of "earth priests" in such matters in the past, they do not seemingly have much to do with the village structure today. Only three families represent these Eéflflf Egi§i_(mentioned in Chapter Three), and they are in no way connected with the ritual life of the village that I was able to discern. Of particular consequence to the social process in the village is the rather intense rivalry already mentioned between the chief and his lineage and the lineage of former chiefs, particularly between the chief and the son of the last chief, who himself served as "acting chief" for about 7 years. The latter is a classificatory son of the Koupela Naaba and has a number of well placed friends in and outside the govern- ment. He has inherited trees and chOice land in the village. He ex- emplifies a kind of self-confidence that borders on arrogance which Mossi seem to regard as a positive trait in an effective chief. The actual chief has a much larger network of kinship ties within the village. He has extremely distant putative kinship and somewhat closer affinal ties to the Koupela Naaba, neither of which place him on par with his rival in that court, however. Yet he has the chiefship, something his rival wanted very much but failed to receive. th The market place is occupied daily by a handful of women selling foodstuffs, generally of the ready-to-eat kind. The two grinding mills on the edge of the market operate daily. However, every three days is market day, when Ténga becomes the locus of the market of the area. Al- though buyers and sellers come from several villages on market day, local peOple from Ténga and nearer villages dominate it. Formerly, the local chief had a daga naaba (market chief or functionary), generally a sister's son, a stranger-client, or one from the Beghre class, appointed to make appropriate sacrifices and otherwise to assure peace in the market, as well as to see that the chief received his lgggg (tribute gift) or gift from g§§m_("beer") sellers and meat vendors. The nearby district office, the arm of the national administration, sends a functionary to collect a very small tax from sellers (except those who have a yearly patente or licence). The chief, however, generally received his lgggg_in meat and Qééflp though it would appear that he must go to the compounds of those who produce the latter in order to collect personally most generally. Sellers of particular kinds of goods are generally placed together in the market here as in most markets. Women sell most foodstuffs besides meat. They are the gggm;makers and sellers. Although there are a few others who sell it, it is noteworthy that the wives of the dominant families in the village are regular g§§m_makers, the Moslems excepted. Given the social importance of the beverage, this is not without signific- ance. Moslems dominate the meat section of the market. Although others also assist in butchering and selling, the principle butcher is a Yarga Moslem. There are undoubtedly several reasons for this but one is rather lh6 clear. A Moslem is not supposed to eat meat killed by a non—Moslem, therefore it is good business to get a Moslem at least to cut the throat of an animal in order to be assured of a larger clientele. An interesting and very practical arrangement that the butchers have made with the administration is for the principle butcher to pay for the patente yearly and for each other butcher to be cast in the role, formally, of working for him. They are to pay him a given amount each market day which in effect spreads the expense of the tax over the entire group. There has been some dissatisfaction with this arrangement however. Some Mossi Christians associated with the chief's lineage have talked of purchasing their own patente. This will undoubtedly lead to a restructuring relationship in this part of the market. The principle buyer and wholesaler of kola nuts, a very important market commodity, is both a Beghre and a.Moslem. Much of the kola nut trade is in the hands of Moslems not only in Upper Volta but beyond its borders (Cohen 1966:18-36). Therefore there seems at least some justifi- cation for assuming some correlation between the Moslem ties and the role of kola traders locally. He pays the patente and is repaid by others who sell with him or for him in the market place, much in the same manner as the butchers do. In fact, other kola sellers who come to the market are constrained to pay him a fee to sell in "his" market. One rather non-economic variable effects the market. When the market falls on a Friday or a Sunday, Special Moslem and Christian days or rest and prayer, the markets are attended by much greater numbers, not only locally but from places more distant. During the dry season, especially after harvest, traders in grain 1h? frequent such markets as this, buying cheaply in rural areas in order to resell in urban centers or where grain is scarcer. Yet strangers can be dangerous; some may be soaaba. This may especially be true during times of considerable sickness. A suspected s2§ya_is asked to leave. There was particular concern with soaaba alleged to be among the visitors from across the nearby river boundary from the village on the Ouagadougou side and from areas inhabited by a rather mixed ethnic group which they called Zaose. The sonsoaaga, cooperative cultivation, is both an aspect of social structure and one key to it. Lineal relatives, affines and neighbors are invited to the sonsoagga. The host, however, cannot, without considerable embarrassment, invite more than those for whom he can provide gggm, This is resulting in increasing economic differences between some inhabitants. Those who can provide a good supply of d§§m_(or food if the guests are Moslems) can attract more labor. The individual who has no Qééfl.t° offer generally cannot hOpe for much help even from some near kinsmen. Thus the former gains a day's labor from the latter and does not render any labor in return, with the resulting imbalance amounting to two days labor. This accounts for part of the uneven spread of material goods in the village. Feast or special days of all types have certain common themes to them whatever their historical raison dfggzg, There is always singing, dancing, sharing, visiting with friends and eating. For customary and Christian feasts there was always the added d§§g_in relative abundance. For customary feasts there were sacrifices and libations as well. On at least one occasion I noted that one individual offered a sacrifice to the 1h8 ancestors, asking for another good year, on Christmas Eve, however, Moslem feasts consist of a particular dgaga_(ritual of prescribed prayers) and generally offerings in money, goods and animal or chicken gifts. Eagga, the yearly offerings to the ancestors is common to all Mossi. It coincided at least the year of the research with the kpri_(funerary ritual for several of the dead which may have died anytime in the last year or more). It is essentially a harvest festival. The Christians had a special mass for the dead in conjunction with this. The latter was the day before the former. Officiants are different but much of the same public participates in both. (One ritual which I observed, in fact, had both a cross and a sacrificed chicken together on the same grave.) Bengdo was a Special harvest feast in honor of the local chief. It consisted of all—night dancing and sacrifices on behalf of the chief, al- though with a Christian chief the latter cannot be done publicly and presumably in the presence of the chief himself. The elderly men take care of such matters. Interment rituals are symbolic statements regarding certain social cleavages in the villages. However, these statements are not always precise. According to custom, affines (particularly daughters' husbands) and neighbors assist with preparing the body and burial. An interment will also bring the lineal kinsmen together. One Moslem burial, however, was handled completely by fellow Moslems. Significantly, it was almost inside Siganvuse, the strictest Moslem quarter, and the deceased was a rather faithful Moslem. Another burial, a Moslem woman who live among followers of customary Mossi beliefs and practices, brought assistance 1&9 from the latter and from Christians nearby. Afterwards there were regular Moslem prayers and offerings. Since there were no Christian funerals during the year, I was not permitted to note their practices locally. There were three individuals who might be referred to as the "educated elite" in the village, the two school teachers and the agricul- tural agent. The teachers were Mossi and the agent was a non-Mossi. The role of the agent was to disseminate agricultural information and to sell insecticides. He acts as a representative of the administration locally in respect to disputes, also in affairs which are not or cannot be resolved by customary Mossi arbitration. Observation indicates that this generally involves animals damaging gardens and/or disputes between different ethnic groups, Fulbe and Mossi in particular. The agricultural agent seeks to bring the parties tobether; and failing this, he makes a formal report of the case to the district commandant's office for final disposition. Since no customary court is legally recognized (However, informally it is quite essential to the judicial process on the local level.) by the government, one can circumvent kinsmen or chief completely. It would be an exceptional case when this occurred, however. The school teachers were regarded by the populace and by themselves as a class somewhat apart. As strangers as well as members of a superior socio-economic class the amount of integration with the local people was limited. The head of the school appeared to be more in sympathy with the chief than with the chief's rival faction. An older collateral of the chief was closer to him and served as godfather for his child. As political campaigning began in 1970, the political orientation of the head school teacher was somewhat at variance with the chief's rival lSO faction and most chiefs of the area apparently. Although this alignment reinforced local boundaries, the chief was more committed ultimately to the idea that chiefs should vote as a united group. He undoubtedly would side with the majority in this respect, even if it meant in effect agree- ing with his major rival in the village. In an incident involving theft by a local individual, the school master took his case to the chief. On a dispute over the school pr0perty which involved the chief's rival group, he went directly to the commandant. Hence, the "elite" group here, as the administration generally, may avail themselves of local assistance from the chief, or it may ignore him completely and deal directly with the administration, depending upon the personal assessment of the situation. As to other ethnic groups in the village, the Yarse have already been mentioned. Generally they are not absorbed. One case of a sister's son being listed on the tax roll by his Mossi mother's brother's sondre and another reference to a person ostensibly a Moaga, as a "Yarga" by the informant suggests that the generalization is not completely accurate. They intermarry frequently with Mossi. Fulbe are not found within the village although the name of one quarter Silmise (the Mossi word for Fulbe) testifies of their former presence there. They are rather close by and bring their herds to the local reservoir for water. There is rarely any intermarriage between them and other peoples. The role expectations of pastoralists as opposed to those of agriculturalists create inevitable conflicts which mitigate against such unions. Other cultural differences (as cousin marriage, for example, among the Fulbe), unacceptable in Mossi society, contribute to the rather deep cleavage between them and the Mossi. Even 151 in religious observance, the other Moslems reserve a somewhat "separate but equal" status for the Fulbe. The commanding position of Ténga on the main road has made it a focus for a number of things mentioned above: administrative encounters (voting, tax-collecting, vaccination, etc.), marketing and worship (the larger mosque and the large church). Although each village has its own chief, others must take a relatively secondary position here at such gatherings. Relations between chiefs with the Ténga chief vary somewhat. Two which are descendants of chiefs placed in towns by Naaba Yirbi in the last century have closer ties with the Koupela Naaba. This seems to create rather latent hostility or jealousy on the part of some in a less privileged position such as the chief of Ténga. National political parties have affected the village very little in spite of the rather active involvement of many persons in not-too- distant Koupela in the past. The lineage of the former chiefs are the most involved. They have worked with a near kinsman chief in another village on behalf of a particular party. However, most of the village regards politigue with a mixture of suspicion and incomprehension. As of the present most individuals seem inclined to conform to the wishes of those over them in respect to voting rather than to strike out independently, thus possibly creating undesirable social cleavages and further instability in their changing world. CHAPTER SICK/EhY KOUPELA: A RELEVANT FIELD ENVIROHHEIT Koupela represents several elements of the AHFE of great importance to Ténga. The name, "Koupela", refers both to the chiefdom and to the capital town of the Koupela Haaba where he and his court reside. The chiefdom-—now an administrative district-~covers about 1000 square miles containing in the neighborhood of 88,000 inhabitants.1 Three thousand are located in the town itself. The present Koupela Naaba is reputedly a lineal descendant of the founder of the Ouagadougou kingdom and more directly related to the Boulsa Naaba.2 Traditionally the Koupela Naaba went to Boulsa for his formal investiture. According to Mangin, the Koupela Naaba gave yearly tribute both to Boulsa and to Ouagadougou (1960:31). From Boulsa he received the mystical pggm;£ibg_which gave him Special governing powers.3 He, like all chiefs, was accorded the office for life. Death by one means or another was allegedly the only avenue for relinquishing the chiefship. Succession to the chiefship was both through adelphic succession and primogeniture. Rules of succession were ambiguous enough to produce frequent conflicts between aspirants to the chiefship, a not uncommon condition in many African states. A successful contender could succeed only with porendamba——those standing behind him--who were militarily dominant. Any such person was presumably a nabiiga (chief's son). Of 152 153 succession generally, one chief observed to me, "Ton yak asoaba sé twé talle téngf". ("We chose the one who can 'manage‘ or 'control' the country/village.") Obviously there have always been rules of succession, but such a statement suggests they could be and were flexible. The Koupela Naaba has a number of ministers who serve him personally and who have functioned customarily as intermediaries between himself and chiefs of lesser rank. A minister carries the designation naaba, but the nature of his Eéflfib his authority, is specified by a qualifying pre— fix. It should be noted that the particular title is not necessarily a clear indicator or the degree of political power everywhere. Thus the Samande Naaba (one minister of the court) is what Kabore regards as a "dignitary of secondary importance" at Ouagadougou, commanding the court domestics (Kabore 1966:h9). At Koupela the Samande Naaba seems to function somewhat as "prime minister"; that is, his role is relatively more important, and it apparently has been during the last century at least. A somewhat similar set of conditions holds in the case of the Kamba Naaba, who at Koupela is a rather important official. Ministers in the court of an important chief aie sometimes referred to as "provincial chiefs" (e.g. Skinner 196hz66ff). such a statement if left to stand, must be clarified somewhat. An error has possibly been perpetuated in viewing them thus due to the too common practice of Westerners regarding Africans in our own structural image. Certain ministers have been depicted as provincial chiefs "over" the lesser canton chiefs (kombemba, sg. kombere), the latter being kinsmen of the paramount chief of the entire chiefdom. The tendency has been to suppose a rather fixed territory for such officials. 15h It is gratifying to see Kabore at least question such a position, giving us a better picture of the situation. La notion de province est trés vague en pays mossi. On appelle province un groupe de cantons soumis au controle administratif d'un ministre du roi ou chef de province. §g_province n'est pas une unité territoriale. Les cantons constitutifs peuvent, en effet, ne pas avoir de limites communes et étre séparés par des groupes de villages n'appartenant pas a la meme province. La repartition géographique des canton qui forment une province est tres anarchique (1966:30-31). (Italics added) It is of critical importance to remember that officials of a Mossi chief (and those of any other African chiefs and kings) are linked to the latter by "multiplex" ties which Fallers (following Parsons) describes as "functionally diffuse" (1960 516). Relationships to both the superior and lesser chiefs are only broadly defined by the culture. The specifics of this aspect of a minister's role as political "broker" seems to have depended upon his relative power with the superior (in our case, the Koupela Naaba) and the canton or village chiefship. To further complicate the process, one minister—informant observed that a Koupela Naaba con- stantly provoked rivalry among his ministers through favors and gifts granted at auspicious moments. A lesser chief (canton or village) of course could not approach the Koupela Naaba directly, he needed a minister—chief in court as a go-between 5 (sore soaba). On the other hand, which official of the court was not always predetermined generation after generation. An older informant asserted that it was not the minister—chief who chose a village over which he would exercise authority and act as its court-mediator. Rather, it tended to rest in part at least with the village or canton chiefs to choose the official who could serve them most efficiently. Undoubtedly it was a.case of reciprocity whereby all parties were to gain. 155 Changes probably occurred very slowly it seems but it is noteworthy that at least three minister-chiefs have been over the village of Ténga during the last 100 years. Sometime in the 19th century the Dapore Naaba (minister, head over the court slaves and head executioner) was over the village. After the upheaval involving the fight for power at Koupela during the period of Naaba Yirbi, a warrior-friend of the Samande Naaba (minister) was placed over Ténga. This village chief (and in effect the village) of course approached the Koupela Naaba through his patron, the Samande Naaba. Later one ambitious contender for the chiefship found an effective friend in the Kamba Naaba (minister). Since his success, the village has been "under" the Kamba Naaba. The use of village land and labor by the latter reflects the economic as well as the political advantage which accrues to a successful minister in this respect. ******************** The district office of the National government is located at Koupela as well. The commandant is administrator for the same area and population mentioned above. From the viewpoint of the inhabitants of Ténga the district office is the source of those necessary personal documents that make the outside world of education, travel and employment accessible: birth certificates, marriage Certificates, identification cards, tax receipts and licences of various types. The district office is the national collector of taxes and fees of all types. It is also where one can take disputes which indigenous means of settlement have failed to resolve. Although I was unable to get an exhaustive assessment of the kinds of cases coming before this district 3.x husban in Kou . Q . VlL‘lnl . R ., “.‘ Vu‘ " . s‘J ‘ I —;A’:"ér~ .. v ¢.:"1 § 9 ~ .. “DO 4: "‘-§ “fir By” ‘L 1 “rm, _ u.“‘ ‘r " 7.. he .'_ «,_- 156 tribunal, observation suggests cases dealing with property damage suits, boundary disputes—-especially between different ethnic groups, and cases of desertion or the abduction of a wife are the most common. Agents and technicians of such services as agriculture, animal husbandry, forestry, the post office, and the national police are found in Koupela. They serve the whole district, as well as the immediate vicinity of Koupela. The location of Koupela at a crossing of important roads leading to Ouagadougou, Fada N'Gourma and Tenkodogo adds to its commerical importance. There is a market each day, although each third day it sprawls over much of the 5 or 6 acre area in the center of town. Perhaps two dozen or more petty merchants line along the roads that frame the market place. Vil— lagers as those from Ténga can buy most any type of foodstuff they will need here. European manufactured goods, petroleum products, medicines, and building supplies are generally available as well. Koupela has also the only medical facility in the area. A small hospital and maternity ward is run by the Catholic Mission. Here are also elementary schools for boys and girls as well as training schools in manuel arts. The impressive size of the Mission compound reflects its considerable social, political and economic effect upon the district throughout most of this century. The Moslem community is strong and numerous but it has not been as involved in health, formal education and other social (and more visible) activities as the Mission. This relative lack of visibility means that the size and strength of the Moslem community is not easy to ascertain. Since before independence until 1966, Koupela was the locus of 157 lively political activity centered around national party politics. In 1970 when political parties again were allowed to become active, one could observe the reactivation in Koupela of the latent party machinery. Koupela again began to function as a center of political ferment. The outlying regions looked this way for direction while the local party leaders were rallying support among the villagers for their prOposed programs. The above examples of aspects of the ARFE represent sources of support which can be mobilized by the participants in the field at Ténga. The next chapter will reveal how this was done. CHAPTER EIGHT THE STRUCTURING PROCESS IN TEHGA We now direct our attention to a descriptive presentation and explanation of data gathered at Ténga during nearly a year's stay in that village. In Chapter Two I have established the method which will be followed here in the examination of this data. It will be recalled that I have presented six "phases" which are recommended in studying any given social process: the establishment of a socially shared goal (or goals), a focal event, the crystallization and assessment of relation- ships and support, the marshalling of support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies, the resolution of the process, and finally, a reassessment of the new resource distribution and structural alignments in the field. Intervening chapters have hopefully furnished adequate historical background and clarified the general organizational context for the reader. Events from which the data are drawn took place over nearly a hundred year Span from the last quarter of the 19th century until 1970. As I looked over the data, I recognized a series of rather climactic events which could serve both to focus us into the process and to suggest tem- porary "resolutions" in the processual continuum. Thus the total evolving process will be broken up into six stages. Each stage begins as if we are examining a separate process, which in a sense-~but only in a sense—-we are, since the whole can also be seen as a single process. Each stage 158 will .w .i ' u esse longs be ‘3 .n .né their unfort a k 159 will be seen progressing through the six phases with the exception of the last, which had not reached a climactic point of "resolution". The posited goals are quite similar in each stage for the field is essentially the same and the processes are in fact merely parts of a longer single one spanning the 100 years. Focal events are objective and significant events but there is admittedly an element of arbitrariness in the choice. Another researcher might have, on occasion chosen other events. This, however, is not a serious matter since the "focal event" is in a sense merely a means of "getting inside" the process for the actual examination of data. The assessments of relationships and support structure constitutes a kind of descriptive cataloguing of the pertinent statuses, structures, and relationships between them at the outset of the process, or more precisely, of this stage of the process. This enumeration of facts unfortunately results in what may seem a disjointed presentation at this point. This phase will generally set the initial dimensions of the field since those participants directly connected with the posited goals and their positions in relation to others will be noted. It will be recalled that the field is directly related to the goal and those purposively seeking to acquire it. The marshalling process follows the interaction between the social facts of the last phase. We see the progression from one described "steady state" in phase three through phase five as resources are moved from one point to another and support gained or lost by various principals in the field. Theoretically, the field could expand or contract Spatially and in terms of complexity in this phase. In this study it remains spatially rather constant, essentially coterminus with the limits of the 3“ q ‘.A fir- -- 5* flb’ b’VF SI 32; ‘L‘ U.“ as be sat ~1- i .‘ JV... co'fo' S . comma: rue: s U 160 village. The resolution of the process is generally associated with an event such as a death, an election, a climactic appointment that tends to bring about to some measure a resolution of the process in question. This resolution leads to a reassessment of the new resource distribution and ,new support arrangements. This last phase could theoretically reflect a return to the status quo ante, but this never occurs in this study except in a very broad sense. The institution of the chiefship remains throughout all stages as an institution. Its attributes, however, become greatly altered over time. In many respects we have what may be regarded as both an evolutionary trend and a cyclic repetitive process as well. What this method provides, then, is a means to see the evolution of both content and structure within the same frame of reference. The process in each stage centers primarily around two related goals: command over resources--particularly human resources--and over the public decision-making in the field. Most generally these are closely related to the chiefship in this field. We see, however, that new leaders and structures are generated over time. These are drawn into competition with chiefs for these goals. This involvement in the village-wide goal seeking may be purposeful or inadverdant. pPOCGSS :a‘rzu‘sm ': 161 STAGE I Phase One: The socially shared goal. The goal which became apparent from events that transpired during this stage was the political control of the people in the Téngfi area. Therefore, the social field in question is in the general area of the village of Téngfi and it covers a time period from around 1875 or 1880 to about l9l2. Phase Two: The focal event. The event which initiated this particular social and political process of several years was the expulsion of Kazemboanga, Koupela Naaba Tarzugu's brother, from the Ténga area subsequent to Naaba Yirbi's accession to power. Accounts of specific incidents are rare since people are very reluctant to speak of the period due to the tensions still apparently felt. One finds no admitted partisans of Kazemboanga and Tarzugu now. Phase Three: The crystallization and assessment gf_relationships and support. The population of the whole area generally seems to have been behind Kazemboanga while Tarzugu was in power. In some measure they were caught in the crossfire of a conflict in a different field of action--that of Koupela. As the process begins, Kazemboanga was in undisputed command. Koupela forces of Yirbi entered the field with what proved to be superior military resources. Thus, while Kazemboanga controlled superior resources within the field at the outset, the forces of Yirbi had what proved to be available decisive resources (and thus support) from the ARFE, specifically from Koupela, and ultimately from Ouagadougou. Leaders of both groups in rage: common is would se in the (2 social, FOI‘ 8113:: is not c border 5 162 could appeal to kinship rights to the chiefship to support each of their claims to power. The same was a potential means of marshalling local support locally in Ténga. Neither leader was a foreigner; rather, they were sons of Koupela chiefs. Therefore, both groups shared common values in regards to rights to the chiefship. Thus, common kinship ties and common values were resources available to both sides. Therefore, it would seem that the superior military power was the critical difference in the contest. More research is needed to set forth all the political, social, economic and geographical variables which are pertinent here. For example, what, if any role the local principal téngsoabandamba played is not clear. One geographical variable was significant. The nearby border separating Koupela and Ouagadougou districts was relevent in that it furnished a place of refuge for those being pursued at this time. Although the Yarse and possibly Fulbe were then in the area, their presence does not seem to have been critical to the maJor social and political processes of this period. Phase Four: Marshallingg£_support and/or reckoning with countervailing, elements and tendencies. In Spite of the paucity of information, it seems clear the militarily, the forces of Yirbi soon expelled Kazemboanga. The stories of people running across the Ouagadougou boundary and of the death of at least one ancestor of the present inhabitants in a battle several miles south suggest at least some serious military action. The father of the present chief was captured at this time and held as a slave for some time before being released . Yirbi soon placed kinsmen as chiefs over several village, including 163 some in the environs of Ténga. Since Ténga was not yet organized as a village, it is not clear exactly when the first chief was appointed. Whatever the date he was a certain Yaogo, a soldier of one of Yirbi's ministers, the Samande Naaba. One informant described him as a bibeega (young rascal) "who ran off from Ténga to raid with the Koupela people". He added, "After the fighting was over the eldership was given to him and not to Seta's children" (Seta is an ancestor of the present chief and an "old settler"). Thus, it seems probable that he was placed there prior to receiving the chiefship formally. He was eventually given the title of chief some time after the coming of the whites (i.e. after 1898). The title assumes distinct political rights and certain supernatural power behind him in Mossi eyes. The office as an aspect of the Mossi political system has an existance apart from its incumbent and was an important support for Yaogo in the social field. He was accompanied by the forebears of some of the present-day ex- slave lineages. There is no evidence, however, that his entourage numbered very many. His descendants currently constitute but one small lineage of less than a dozen individuals. During his tenure the French arrived in Koupela. A few years later a road was traced through Ténga linking Koupela with Tenkodogo. This road enhanced its relative accessibility and hence the subsequent political and economic importance of the area. Under its new chief the village seems to have become better organized. One reason for this and thus a positive support for it seems to be connected with forced labor recruitment. It made the position of chief necessary to affect administration of this as well as other programs, especially taxation. It has provided a new to its reduce r9503: F. 9‘ II a 0“ ‘U vie... Ya' aptars" . v.¢\ «2.1r e C 1nd 16h resource and thus a positive support to the position of chief as well as to its incumbent. The enforced peace in respect to internecine conflicts reduced the possibility of rebellions and thus acted as a support to the political and social stability of the period, and equally as a support for Yaogo. As noted above, he was a soldier of the Samande Naaba in Yirbi's court. The Samande Naaba was quite powerful in the court during this time and at one period was in charge of all the forced labor throughout the Koupela district which had deve10ped into an important institution by then. Yaogo's connection with the court through his former commander constituted a potentially powerful support for his position in Tenga. Yaogo's appointment as chief made clear the fact that those who were apparently older local inhabitants and also children of nakomse were unable to mobilize similar support and thus to compete successfully for the chiefship. Whereas, the two criteria of being "native sons" and being nakomse (in the broad sense that the term can be used) can be important supports, they were inadequate in this field. Past associations with Kazemboanga constituted a negative support for most "native sons". Also, the land is full of people with purported kinship ties with chiefs; the nature of the immediate relations to the kombere giving the chiefship was the critical resource at this point. In this respect Yaogo was in a manifestly superior position. Yaogo apparently had at least some rather tenuous kinship ties with some members of the village. Since his appointment was apparently based upon his prior l§£k_of association with the village, such ties could not have been a significant support at first at least. Yet, given the value of lineage ties in Mossi culture, this resource eventually accorded him pro ces POIit 165 a local base of support whether such ties were real or putative. (The failure of Yaogo to pass the chiefship on to an immediate offspring suggests that he m§y_have been merely a sister's son, but this is a conjecture.) Mossi history suggests that for ritual reasons if for no other, indigenous people cannot be ignored by new leaders. Only the former can sacrifice at sacred areas and thus assure peace and prosperity for all. This may be a less powerful resource than superior secular forces, yet it can keep a defeated group viable. The continued presence of tgpgy soabandamba attests to this. This value plus the fact that the population itself was an important resource for Yaogo in his negotiations with Koupela and with the colonial government acted as a support in the broader process of social and political evolution. The "old settlers" lost political control of the area at this stage, but there were supports (associated with kinship and eldership) for them even though the monopoly of power was not theirs. Phase Five: The resolution 23 the process: Adjustive mechanisms. The resolution of the conflict which took place in relation to the expulsion of Kazemboanga included 1) the decimation of the population which had supported him, 2) the subjugation of the local populace to Yirbi's lieutenants, 3) the appointment of Yaogo over the area and eventually to the chiefship, and h) the control of the area by the Samande Naaba, replacing the Dapore Naaba there as the dominant personality from the Koupela court. The installation of near kinsmen of Yirbi as chiefs over nearby villages suggests further potential supports for Yaogo in the immediate ARFE. Phase §jg The which rem in nearby support a many of 1 Yaogo and a village Prior to less the Opened th ends. It '5 Vith v; The Suppo. The . Ships to of the re in Politi. ~ r A3.E. Th‘ 1L11"i1t18.te . 166 Ehg§g_§i§; New resource distribution and structural alignments. The decision-making power was reduced for the older local elders which remained. With the imposition of close kinsmen of Yirbi as chiefs in nearby villages, chances for effective alliances and thus mutual support among old inhabitants was reduced. The death or expulsion of many of the older local leaders meant little apparent opposition for Yaogo and other such political appointees. For the first time we have a village and a chief linking it to the Mossi hierarchy of command. Prior to this time the eldership, based upon age and lineal kinship, was less the obJect of competition. Now the granting of the chiefship opened the door to intrigue and manipulation of resources for political ends. It meant also that relations with Kbupela and the field as well as with various other aspects of the ARFE are now more formal and frequent. The support structure thus became more formalized as well. The decision—making process was changed from multi-centered elder- ships to a somewhat uni-centered chiefship. This fact plus the nature of the relationship of these elders with Yirbi resulted in some reduction in political power of the lineage elders both in the field and in the ARFE. The death or expulsion of some local leaders further shifted the ultimate control of resources from the elders to Yaogo. Rights to the chiefship are based on more diverse rules which draw candidates from various groups and are thus more subject to manipulation and competition than the eldership (based simply on kinship, sex and age). Hot m: vague nanm It never 1:. One inform: connection general me; statements Yaogo‘ V937 serim living, is Called Bele With his fa Vas nQVer (1 After 011 to an in a human . PGOple‘ Th. connection ‘ collatera1 1 SUCCEssful I +she Katha Na Yirbi '8 167 HISTORICAL NOTE Not many informants cared to speak about Yaogo except in a rather vague manner. He was mentioned as a former chief and that was about all. It never became clear why no son of his (nor near kinsmen) succeeded him. One informant hinted at the possibility of some sexual immorality in connection with the succession. Yet, I found that this was a rather general means often employed of Speaking against the Opposition. Such statements may or may not have been truthful. Yaogo's brother's son Noraogo, who died in the 1950's was never a very serious contender for the chiefship. The son of this latter, now living, is formally regarded as a collateral of "old settlers" and is called Belemkoabga. Yet he lives socially and spatially somewhat apart with his father's sister's children. It is not entirely clear why he was never deeply involved politically. After the death of Yaogo around 1912, the Ténga chiefship was passed on to an individual not living in the village but to one who was reputedly a kinsman. Some say that he had gone to live with his mother's father's peOple. There was no close lineal tie between him and Yaogo and his connection even with others in the village is expressed in rather vague collateral terms. Naaba Piiga as he was later called, had become a successful farmer. He was able through gifts to gain the attention of the Kamba Naaba, another minister in the Koupela Naaba's court. The influence the Kamba Naaba had increased perceptibly during the reign of Yirbi's successor, Naaba Goanga (ca 1903-1915), and he was able to pro- cure the chiefship of Téngd for Piiga from the Koupela Naaba. Piiga held it from about 1912 to 1923 or l92h. During influence I recrntnen' were initi guards (ga; arias and . communicat. in an inte: recruitmen‘ for the gut A chi: SI‘l‘ecit‘ied t his action, ambilrtalent, Privilege v more diffic tion Via. th effort to S h&Ve called who "011.1 d m having been recently Va 168 During this time the influence of the colonial government began to influence life in Tenga.more profoundly. Taxation and forced labor recruitment for public works carried on throughout French West Africa were initiated early in the century. A quasi-military force of district guards (gardes cercle) and interpreters acted as administrative function- aries and Operated between the French and the masses to facilitate communication and discipline. Chiefs were mobilized by the administration in an intermediary role and served in the collection of taxes and for the recruitment of laborers. They were also to see that food was prepared for the guards and functionaries working near their villages. A chief was given a quota of laborers which he was to furnish at specified times. It was up to him to decide which men to send. Whatever his action, he gained both friends and made enemies. He occupied an ambivalent position. The characteristic balancing of the dual aspects of privilege versus responsibility of subJect-ruler relationships was made :more difficult by demands being placed upon the people by the administra- tion via the chief without sufficient compensatory return to them. In an effbrt to stabilize the situation to some measure, chiefs are reported to 'have called up the children of people with deeper roots locally, those 'who would not or could not pick up and leave easily in retaliation for haying been chosen. On the other hand a man who had come to settle more recently was in less danger of being picked, the chief fearing that this Inight cause him to leave quickly. The people of course acted rationally to minimize their discomfort in this situation. But the migration out 'was a.reduction of human resources and thus represented a loss of support for a.particular chief. Forced l the shifting in Bawku and It seems initially in Verse migratj informant re; the time of 3 sone resident Village, Came Some deg Yarse too to is herdsmen 5 them Vith 8i! I‘- , Jne Informant 169 Forced labor, therefore, seems to have contributed considerably to the shifting of population. Some left Upper Volta completely and settled in Bawku and other towns and villages in northern Ghana. It seems that the tensions from forced labor were felt more intensely initially in the district of Ouagadougou. One result of this was a re- verse migration of inhabitants who had fled there during Stage One. One informant reported 78 compounds in the border quarter of Goaaga during the time of Naaba Piiga (as opposed to 17 or 18 now). The parents of some residents who since have been to some degree absorbed into the village, came to Ténga during this time from various places. Some declare that the Fulbe were spared being sent as laborers. The Yarse too to some extent are reported to have been favored in this way. As herdsmen and traders they possessed material resources which provided them.with gifts to present to the chief for more favorable consideration. One informant suggested that chiefs feared that the wondering Fulbe would abscond with Mossi cattle if they became too offended. Mossi themselves, however, took what measures they could to avoid being taken, also. During the tenure of Naaba Piiga, Naaba Goanga of Koupela died and 'was replaced by his oldest legal heir, Sorbangande. This latter held ‘the Kbupela chiefship from 1915 to 1929. Fnase . '03 i The ever was the remov As pointed O‘J aininistratio He was to pro functionaries to getting so guards. Acco: inferior food 170 STAGE II Eh§§g_9233 The socially shared goal. The primary goal manifested during this stage was the possession of the Ténga chiefship and the effective monOpoly over the control of re- sources and decision-making in the village. Phase Two: The focal event. The event which serves as the initial focus of the ensuing process was the removal of Naaba Pfiga from the Ténga chiefship in or near l92h. As pointed out above, a chief was obligated to furnish laborers for the administration for use on projects as roads, bridges, building, etc. He was to provide food for the district guards and similar government functionaries. Performance apparently had become inadequate in respect to getting sufficient work from the peOple and proper food for the district guards. According to some accounts on one occasion when guards were fed inferior food from the market place instead of having been offered more palatable hot food, they complained to the French administrator at Tenkodogo. The latter then demanded that Koupela haaba Sorbangande re- move Piiga and replace him with another chief. Phase Three: Crystallization and assessment 9£_relationships and support. Prior to the time of Naaba Piiga's removal, as leader of Ténga there is evidence that he had the support of most of the village, the majority of'which were ostensibly kinsmen except for the Fulbe, Yarse and Beghre lninorities. He had the continued support of the Kamba Naaba in Sorban- gande's court and that of’Sorbangande himself. When this crisis came, he had the support of an important Mossi value ‘which.holds that a chief's tenure is for life, that only death can remove 171 him from office. While this proved inadequate in the subsequent contest, it undoubtedly functioned to complicate the process of finding a suc- cessor.l we find, however, that there were contingency rules or "rules to break rules" which in effect mullified this particular one. As the process unfolds we note further that there existed a kind of accomodation that was evolving then which permitted the rule of the inviolability of the chiefship to be adapted to administrative rules and demands. An abler and generally younger kinsman of a relatively incapac- itated chief could be appointed to "do service" (maane service) that is, to take care of administrative tasks in the chiefdom (generally a village), particularly as they pertained to colonial administration. Formal authority and title was retained by the infirm chief. (This has been carried over into the present in relations with the national government as well.) The very presence of immigrants coming back across the Ouagadougou border into the quarter of Goaaga to live in Ténga suggests that Piiga was a resonably effective chief. During his tenure in fact he was able to raise the elder of Goaaga to the status of chief making Goaaga, in effect, a separate village, dependent directly upon the Ténga chief, thus adding 'to his own prestige. While there were effective positive supports in respect to Piiga ‘there were clearly a number of negative supports or countervailing forces. lduch of his erstwhile support, men of the village, had been sent away in labor units, some into the military, while others had run off to escape :forced labor. One of his sons was sent to the Ivory Coast and apparently <1ied.there. This loss of personnel was a pertinent factor. 172 The powerful colonial administration through local interpreters and guards possessed legal coercive sanctions the local chief did not. The administrative demands, the humiliation, even the beating of members of the chief's family served to undermine his ability to lead effectively. The colonial government of course dominated the field at Koupela as well and mobilized the Koupela court as its support in the local field. The Koupela court was simply forced to withdraw support for Piiga. While age is a positive value and support in Mossi ideology, senility and ineffective leadership is not. Piiga's advanced age in this case appears to have been a negative support. Naaba Piiga had two sons. Questions surrounded the circumstances of the birth of the eldest, raising questions as to his eligibility for the chiefship. The second son would have been eligible. The Koupela Naaba maintained a compound at that time at Ténga where he had placed some of his kinsmen and retainers. As the process unfolds this fact takes on greater importance though its prior role in the village was apparently not significant. There was a factor in the ARFE which now becomes relevant to this field. It regarded a problem in the Koupela court. Years before, when the question of naming a successor to Naaba Goanga had arisen, the eldest son proved ineligible due to a certain irregularity regarding his con- ception. Therefore, Sorbangande became the eldest eligible heir and hence, ‘became chief. There was sufficient conflict and intrigue in the process ‘that the mother of this truly eldest son (afterward to take the name of JKugri) was banished to a small village next to Ténga while her son was sent to live again at Ténga. The presence of this older brother without a chiefdom seems to have created some embarrassment for Sorbangande. 173 This was the situation when Piiga was removed as chief. In fact the crisis in Ténga proved to provide a possible solution to problems in both fields, Ténga and Koupela. One last set of relationships may be mentioned. The kinsmen of the former chief, Yaogo, had apparently accepted Naaba Piiga. Yet the processes which unfold over the next several years show the elder of the descendants of Yaogo working less as an active supporter of the local village group than of those who came from Koupela. It will be recalled that their own right to dominance in Ténga lay with their relationship to the KOupela court more than with any tie (kinship or otherwise) with- in the local field. It becomes evident now, that a number of individuals operating on diverse principles as supports could conceivably compete for the chief- ship. In addition, the past shows clearly that the Koupela court could ignore local claims completely and impose its own candidates with the formal assent of the local elders. Phase Four: Marshalling_g£_support and/or reckoning with countervailing_ tendencies. Little is said of Piiga's reaction to his removal. He was now quite elderly and not too active. His local support was ineffective in com- petition with the colonial government and with Sorbangande, his political superior. The latter was unable to resist the demands of the colonial administration. Therefore, the support of both was removed. Péogre, a son of one of the "old settlers" and a collateral kinsman of Piiga (and of the present chief) gained acceptance as a pgg_tgm_chief who "did service". He was younger and physically an impressively large 17h man. He gained the support of the village, of Sorbangande, and of the administration. He did not have the formal status of chief, a valued resource to the Mossi with its implications for life tenure. The rule that provided for one to "do service" was a much less solid support in customary terms in the contest for monopoly of command over resources in the field. As the process unfolded over the next five years, P50gre lost significant support, however. As one who "did service" he was to listen to Naaba Piiga's counsel and care for his interests. He is accused of doing neither. He lost the support of the administration as well, when a sum of tax money was allegedly missing. He was finally deposed also and given a short prison term. There ensued a period of dissension in the field with no one domi- nating the field and gathering support sufficient to obtain the chiefship or at least to "do service". At one point, three local elders bypassed Sorbangande and appealed directly to the French administration to help them keep the chiefship locally. It appears that Naaba Piiga was still living. Yet an offense against custom by appointing another chief before the death of the former one was seen as more tolerable than losing the chiefship to outsiders. There seems to have been two or three local candidates for the office, including the second son of Pfiga mentioned above. However, any local solidarity proved inadequate to compete in the field again Sorbangande and against the administration, both of which Provided mutual supports for each other in this particular process at Ténga. Sorbangande moved rather actively into the field. He consulted 175 at least formally with the local elders and reputedly gained their con- currence to name his brother, Kugri, as chief. His family is "sister's sons" to the Ténga people. While this did not give them rights to the local chiefship, they were not totally strangers. While the local pe0p1e were not happy about the choice, they were virtually powerless to resist. One elder voiced their frustration before the might of those who monopo- lized the control of resources and thus had overwhelming support: "They stole the chiefship! It was ggmbgi" (conspiracy, underhandedness). They insist that they never gave Kugri the sacred symbols of the chiefship, the local £1399; _t__i_b_g. Kugri's mother was also a Yarga woman from Ténga. Although he was a sister's son to them as well, the ideal tie of affection for such a relationship does not seem to have existed to any great degree. Thus, although Kugri had little local popular support, the powerful resource of his kinship tie with the Koupela Naaba plus his status of nakombga or "son of a chief" gave him decisive support in the contest for the chiefship. This also gave him indirect support from the administration. Although local reports may be somewhat exaggerated, his rather harsh rule .must have been regarded as more efficient in the eyes of the administration. ‘Phase Five: Resolution 2£_the process. Adjustive mechanisms. The process of finding an adequate incumbent culminated in the appointment of Kugri in 1928,. The forces impinging upon and being drawn into the local field were too powerful once inside the field to allow local internal adJustive mechanisms to affect anything like a return to the status quo. The authority of the Koupela court had asserted itself in the appointment of the two prior chiefs who were not local men either. in"! administration, more interested in a competent flow of labor and 176 stable government, gave indirect support to the Koupela Naaba's direct participation in the local field. Although Kugri was never formally recognized by the local people (in the sense of passing to him the sacred symbols of the chiefship) he may have received ritually, if somewhat informally, the chiefship from his brother in Koupela. The sacred guarantees of power in such are apprec- iated by Mossi as effective supports. It will be noticed that, however strong the hand of Sorbangande was, he consulted with the elders of Ténga. This base of local formal consent and legitimacy was a significant resource and support for Kugri and contributed to the final resolution. On the other hand it is a reminder that a monopoly on the command of resources does not necessarily mean a command over the totality of resources. The local "old settlers" headed viable structures as lineages and quarters, even though their power was reduced. It may be noted parenthetically that the resolution of the controversy over the chiefship in Ténga also served to resolve, in some measure, the conflict in the other field, Kbupela. £hg§g_§i§; New resource distribution and structural alignments. Command over people, their labor and their goods changed considerably during this process. Although local elders were directly over their kins- men and quarters, the ultimate and most pervasive decision-making had passed to one who was not a kinsman nor native to the village. Yaogo had certain affinities with the Koupela court but he had been in effect their servant while a distant kinsman to the local peOplé . Kugri was a Egggmbga_in a very immediate sense, as son of a deceased major chief. He 177 was of course a very close kinsman to the powerful Koupela Naaba. Kin— ship ties compounded the solidarity through possession of the chiefship. This meant the resource of effective communication with those in the ARFE (in Koupela, Tenkodogo, even Ouagadougou) who had great power was his while the local aspirants to power had little access to or communication with social and political units outside the local field. Thus, in terms of command over resources locally and beyond the field boundaries, Kugri was overwhelmingly superior to any other actor in the field. This was evidence of his equally overwhelming support vis g_vis others in the field. 178 STAGE III Phase One: The socially shared goal. The dominant goals during this period were the achievement and retention of the control of public decision-making and of human re- sources as they pertained to Ténga from 1928 to 1952. This process centered essentially around the chiefship, though not entirely so. Phase Two: The focal event. The focal event was the naming of Kugri as chief of Ténga; the event that was regarded as the resolution of the social process in Stage II. Phase Three: The crystallization and assessment pf_relationships and support. The relationships were outlined somewhat in the last phase of the last stage. As a sibling of the Koupela Naaba, Kugri had access to resources in the ARFE which others in the local field did not have. The local people denied him the local sacred symbols of the chiefship and there is disagreement as to whether he was ever ritually given the chiefship at Koupela or not. Yet, it is apparent that the more secular supports mentioned above were sufficient to establish and maintain his monopoly of power in this field. Of course, the status of "chief's son" at that time constituted an effective symbol of authority itself among the populacé . Hardly a year after Kugri became chief of Téngfi, Naaba Sorbangande died. While his remaining brothers, including Kugri competed for the Koupela chiefship the strong influence of the French administration and the Church, assured the naming of a younger, educated, Christianized 179 brother of Sorbangande who was chosen by the commandant. The new Koupela Naaba, Zéare, began his tenure in 1929 (although his customary investiture at Boulsa was delayed until 1957). He was still living in 1970. Kugri seems to have enjoyed indirect support from the colonial administration through his somewhat EurOpeanized brother at Koupela. There is nothing to indicate the kinds of problems which his predecessor had encountered. His relation to descendants of Yaogo seem to have been quite good. As indicated above, the elder of this lineage is reported to have been more sympathetic to the Koupela court's opinions than he was to the desires of the "old settlers". The local people recognized that they were without adequate resources and therefore power to resist. They were obliged to accept the appoint— ment of Kugri; some did this more reluctantly than others. The councillors around him were in fact the older lineage elders of the village. The children of Naaba 'Piiga seem to have retained greater social distance, however, as did a few others. In Spite of the fact that many moved away from the village during Kugri's time, ancestral shrines, homesteads, and fields tended to anchor even those of the more dissatisfied ones to the general area, if not the village itself. Kugri's relationships with the Yarse is not easy to define due to the nature of the conflicting social rules involved. This becomes clearer below. Most of them were "old settlers" also with long ties of reciprocity with the local Belemkoabga lineages. They were nominally Moslems but in fact behaved much as the Mossi conducted themselves, ob- serving few, if any, of the Moslem customs that were later to provide 180 important boundary phenomena between many Moslems and non-Moslems. At that time there were few cultural differences between the two ethnic groups. On the other hand, one lineage of Yarse were Kugri's mother's brothers as suggested above. In addition, when several children of one of his wives died at birth, according to custom, he sent her to live in the yard of his mother's brother (theoretically any Yarga or Fulbe will do in such a circumstance) where she at last gave birth to a son who lived. He re- mained in that quarter for several years. As later events revealed, these Yarse gave much less than unqualified support to Kugri in spite of this particular tie. Of possibly some consequence were the closer kinship ties which Kugri held with certain nearby village chiefs, sons of those installed by Yirbi earlier. A close rapport was maintained with the village chief most adjacent. (Significantly, there is considerable enmity be— tween the son of the latter and the present Ténga chief--a fact not difficult to understand.) Kugri was a conservative chief, much more committed to indigenous ways and less open to change than his European-educated brother, the Koupela Naaba. The latter by espousing European religion, agricultural methods and displaying a villingness to cooperate with the French seems to have provided a positive image before the colonial administration which acted as an indirect support for Kugri, his brother and subordinate. Phase Four: Marshalling p§_support and/or reckoning_with countervailing elements and tendancies. Kugri sought to gather support locally by giving deference to line- age and quarter elders. He entertained them with food and daam and gathered about him as councillors. With the exception of certain ones, 181 particularly of Piiga's lineage, with whom there was a rather abiding hospility, he made a point of getting along well with these dominant elders. He thus gained indirect support from the general population through them. Ritually he gave due honor to the village founders by providing sacrifices and libations to those who offered these at their graves. Considering the strength of his position, his support of the leaders of kinship and village structures was by no means insignificant either. The shared worldview of chief, elders and people takes on greater importance as the processes evolve in the field and this aspect of culture becomes more complex. He seems to have given ample dggm and shown other expressions of concern to his client-field workers (dakoapa) as well. Some speak well of those days of relative plenty. These men as well as his market official (daga naaba), and his principal stable boy were generally "strangers" to some degree. That is, they were rlatively new in the village or they were Yarse; not generally, if ever, were they from Belem- koabga lineages. Thus their allegience to him could not be as easily compromised as that of those with local kinship ties. Forced labor continued for the government until about l9h5. It Operated both as positive and negative support for the chiefship and chief. Pressures were placed upon him to produce laborers and to see that roads were cleared. In an effort to meet such demands he is still described as being harsh, thus losing the support of some of the inhabi- tants, to say nothing of those who left completely. On the other hand the administration which initiated such demands also supported chiefs who functioned to promote its policy. Thus, the 182 forced labor program worked in a way to marshall further support from the Koupela Naaba and from the administration for Kubri. The administration, by such support enhanced the importance of some aspects of the office of chief and of the incumbent who served more efficiently from its point of view. The problem of chiefs seeking to meet somewhat contradictory de- mands from divergent bases of legitimacy was of course a common phenom- enon during the colonial period. Kugri found it necessary or more profitable to yield to the structure which commanded the most resources and which could reciprocate with greater support for him. Factors such as easy transport and other types of communication, growing crops for cash, migration toward the coast for wage labor, the presence of diverse kinds of new information and cultural alternatives were becoming increasingly significant in altering the structure of village relationwhips. Yet, in retrospect one can see during the 1930's and early l9h0's the absence of ideas concerning greater individual freedom and of certain other information which later became generally available. This ignorance on the part of most of the field functioned as a positive support both for Kugri and for the lineage leaders who occupied a more privileged position. Thus, the chiefship and the lineage structures remained relatively stable and clearly in command at this time. Some informants suggest that to obtain further resources chiefs such as Kugri were able to manipulate the practice of conscriptive labor for their personal gain. The numbers of workers demanded were sometimes "padded" to provide an extra work force for the chief. This augmented his own production potential. This means of recruitment was, therefore, achieved with the assistance of the administrative structure and support. 183 Kugri was yet able to invoke customary rights as chief over com- moner property. His people re-empted material goods, particularly chickens and animals from villagers. He is reported to have required women to walk 90 miles to Ouagadougou with headloads of grain. On one occasion he took over land and trees which had been held by a stranger group, the deydose, who left, although it was land formerly held by another lineage. When the dependent chief of Goaaga died, Kugri arbitrarily refused to grant the chiefship to the son of the deceased or to anyone else. This provided Kugri with more direct command over the population there, giving those more personally committed to himself unimpeded rights among the people. As indicated above, the thinning of population in that quarter near the border was reputedly due to his relatively unchallenged monopoly over human and material resources in the field and abuse of power which this accorded him. Escape proved to be the only alternative to those who would not submit. During his tenure four children of the important Pwitenga Naaba came to live in the village. An exchange of wives over a period of time linked these sons of important chiefs to him as additional supports locally. Although marriage to the Fulbe is rare, he also gave the local Fulbe headman a daughter from his lineage assuring further support for himself. Relations with the children of other imposed chiefs from Yirbi's time in neighboring villages were amicable in contrast to a certain lxrtent hostility between the "old settlers” and these chiefs. On one occasion when relatives of the former Naaba P’iiga built homesteads 18h reputedly on the adjacent land of such a chief, the houses were destroyed apparently without protest from Kugri. As a result of his kinship ties with him, the neighboring chief just referred to, gave up a small area of land to permit servants of Kugri to settle and establish the quarter of Tweese at the edge of Ténga. The location of Ténga enhanced its importance and thus the prestige of its leaders. The administration regularly used the center of Ténga as the location for convening the population of five environing villages and Ténga, for the purpose of making announcements, for tax gatherings, and for labor recruitment. The implication of the political superiority of Ténga was clearly made, and its dominance asserted since that time, in spite of the fact that at least two of the nearby villages are older. As indicated above, the Yarse were in an ambivalent position in the village. There were "old settlers" yet they were also "mother's brothers" to Kugri and also guardians of his young son. However, over a period of time the expected special favor from the chief, their nephew did not materialize. As one rather unsympathetic informant put it, "They ex- pected preferential treatment and did not get it. He was as hard on them as he was on others". These Yarse went to live with relatives in a not- too-distant village among the Bisa. (Though outside the field, this aspect of the ARFE proved to be significant in that at this time these Yarse turned to Islam in a very devout manner. The rules of Islam in their hands were to prove important later in the social restructuring process in the village.) In contrast, when another Yarga, a trader but also a Moslem teacher or ipgp arrived from Boulsa with a few kinsmen around 1930, he was wel- comed and given a place in the other Yarse quarter. This new group of 185 Yarse represented a position closer to orthodox Islam than the former, although in most respects the Yarse culture still diverged little from Mossi culture in respect to subsistence, language, marriage and family life. Their Islamic practices contributed to some structural cleavage. Yet this very separateness (not complicated by kinship ties with Yarse mentioned above) plus the exchange of gifts and amenities on their respective feast days contributed to a kind of relationship between Kugri and them which worked to the advantage of both. The formalized relationship which was both congenial and somewhat socially distant provided for a rather clear separation of functions. At this time the Islam community offered no threat to Kugri. It offered him at least minimal formal support from the Moslems (whose ties in the ARFE could not be ignored even then). In turn his nominal support was an important resource for this incipient structural focus and its leader. It was noted above that Naaba Zfiare had become a Christian before accepting the Koupela chiefship. It was to prove a strong positive support in the Christianization of the Koupela district influencing the social and political processes. One probable result of this was the arrival of the first Catholic catechist in a nearby village about the same time as the ip§p_arrived in Ténga. About l9h5 a younger brother of Kugri and zaare was installed at Ténga as catechist. In spite of his kinship ties, the reaction of Kugri and village elders was one of be- grudging tolerance. All of them continued to follow the indigenous beliefs and practices. Yet Kugri's oldest son became a Christian. About 1950 the local Christians chose him as their lay leader. When he declined 186 (pleading the fact that he already held one kind of p§§m_as son of the chief as well as admitting that his conduct on occasion was somewhat at variance with better Christian practice), the present chief took his place. A third was later chosen who was a relative of the latter. In addition to this office, there were representatives of Kugri's kin group, the present chief's (or "old settlers") group, and the former slave lineages. The Christians' choice of leaders, therefore, were from the chiefly lineages. The other officers were representatives of important social cleavages: Naaba Piiga's lineage, the lineage of the imposed chief, and the ex—slaves. As a new structural focus took form the possession of the status of "chief's son" was clearly a positive support even here in the decision making among the Christian community. The Moslem and Christian religious groups played no apparent decisive role in the process of resource allocation the, nor were they important as support at this point. The advantage of converting to one or the other religions became economically more advantageous outside the field as time went on during Kugri's tenure. Toward the latter part of his tenure, a number of villagers became Moslems particularly while working away from the village. All of this is not to suggest some radical departure of customary conduct for most of them nor to suggest any serious defection from lineage responsibilities or loyalty to the chief at this time. Just as there was (and to some measure remains) ambivalence in the field in respect to Yarse and "correct" Moslems as they only became slowly differentiated from each other in the minds of the actors in the field, there has been a similar ambivalence in respect to European 187 elements. Older informants tended to view the colonial administration, the Mission, and schools as rather undifferentiated cluster. (One in— formant even asked this American researcher rhetorically, "Well, didn't you appoint Naaba Zfiare?" including me also as part of this European complex.) The presence of any of the three seems to have implied the rest. Thus, the positive and negative supports of each were not neces- sarily separated in the minds of some actors in the field at this time. Forced labor for the colonial administration came to an end formally in l9h6. The negative and positive supports which it provided for the chief noted above were removed. Less work was done on roads but wages were paid for labor if the administration was directly involved. Chiefs were still involved to some measure in the recruitment process. Within the 12221 field command over persons and their labor had not changed as radically as the shift in government policy may suggest. It had been customarily assumed that able bodied men should assist with the culti- vation of the chief's fields. Mossi attitudes respecting the chiefship and the correct subservient attitude of commoners before those who hold the chiefship had not changed radically. A harsh chief as Kugri was given grudging respect even by those he may have hurt . As an example, one man whose compound Naaba Zéare had had destroyed about 1950 spoke in a tone that approached admiration of such a chief, saying, "Eggp;§§g. p_yg.pgpppr. ("The chiefship formerly was really somethin ".) Similarly most lineage elders in Ténga could exercise virtualLy absolute control over the offspring of younger brothers or sons and claim such as an undisputed right generally until well after the death of Kugri. Such values respecting the chiefship and the eldership were of course 188 significant supports for Kugri and the village elders. The institutions of the chiefship and the lineage and village organization were thus maintained. The right over the labor of commoners was marshalled in reference to the production of cashcrops of vegetables and rice as well as of trees from the 1930's onward. While some individual villagers profited person- ally from these innovations eventually, it would appear that chiefs pro— fited much more. This was due to their continued privileged access to the people's labor at this time, a right established by custom and generally recognized to some measure by all. This was an unquestioned resource for the chief which gave continued support to him. At the time of Kugri's death in 1952, returning servicemen and in- creased labor migration were beginning to affect a noticeable shift in resource allocation on the field. New values were brought into the field and the freedom of movement recognized by greater members of the young. Phase Five: The resolution pf_the process: Adjustive mechanisms. The process of consolidating control over resources and over the field decision-making was resolved over time in favor of Kugri. Opposi- tion from "old settlers" of descendants of Yaogo was neutralized or else the dissidents left the village. Kugri, backed by the Koupela Naaba, by the government, and increasingly by village elders, held a monopoly on the control of resources in the field. The social and political mechanisms which worked to resolve some major conflicts came from elements in the ARFE (the Koupela court and the colonial administration) which Kugri could mobilize, often acting as their local agent. Mossi values of granting respect to chiefs and to 189 elders and the desirability of village unity all Operated further to resolve cleavage—producing problems. The resolution of the process left lineage solidarity relatively strong; yet these structures were subordinated increasingly to the author- ity of the chief and, indirectly, to dominant structures outside the field which accorded him support reciprocally for his efforts to carry out their policies. The coming of the ip§p_and the conflict with other Yarse seems to have affected a rather clear differentiation in the field between the two categories, Yarse and Moslem, which heretofore had not been made locally. It would be incorrect to state that the death of Kugri constituted a clearly definable break which initiated a completely new direction in the sweep of events. As pointed out briefly in Chapter Two, however, the passing of the principal actor in the field may be reasonably regard- ed as a termination point. As the following events indicate, it marks the end of an era of chiefs who had access to resources which assured a measure of power not again to be vested in a single leader in the village, not even in Kiba, his successor. Phase Six: New resource distribution and structural alignments. Kugri had a monopoly on the control of resources in the field and seems to have manipulated them.most effectively until his death. Al- though powerful forces as increasing administrative intervention, labor migration, education, cash—cropping, and an increased awareness of polit- ical life in the nation were beginning to erode its effectiveness, and thus were negative supports. The chiefship at this point seems to have retained sufficient support to be a potent and dominant force in the 190 field. The price of support from the colonial administration eventually was the actual reduction of powers which had inhered customarily in the chiefship. The status of chief evolved from that of a representative of indigenous structures and values which in turn lent it support to that of direct agent for the government and of the Koupela Naaba in many important respects. The chief could exploit this position, as noted above, to his personal advantage, but only to the measure that it did not upset programs of these two agencies outside the local field. Kugri's position placed him in the debt of the Koupela Naaba to the extent that several informants spoke of policies emanating from the latter rather than coming directly from Kugri. In addition, since Kugri was a close kinsman of the Koupela Naaba, the local chiefship became not only an expression of political affiliation with Koupela but a kind of "family possession" in spite of the formal gestures made toward the older residents and the former holders of power in the village. For this reason informants suggest that Kugri's death made the naming of a successor a rather foregone conclusion. The converts to Islam and Christianity meant a small shift of personnel to these structural foci and thus from the control of others. This implied a small shift in labor and material resources as well, since ties of reciprocity tend to increase between the adepts of these relig- ions. However, at this point no major alteration of resource distribution was in evidence. The children of Kugri and his brothers with the children of the "old settlers" are now found in the church together. This new structural focus can thus be seen as a potential means of bridging lineage and polit- ical cleavages. The Moslem community had also begun to get converts from 191 the Mossi, thus creating a similar bridge or link between the Yarse and the Mossi in a common ideological setting. 192 STAGE IV Phase One: The socially shared goal. The primary shared goals during this stage were command over per- sonnel and the control of the decision-making processes in the field. The chiefship as a dominant aspect of this, but important changes both within the field and in the ARFE now gave rise to new avenues for draw- ing support and the development of structures which competed with the chiefship for resources and support. Phase Two: The focal event. The death of Kugri in 1952 may be seen as the event which initiates the process covering this period. It signaled the development of a structuring process in new directions within the village, as the support structures became altered due to events within both the field and the ARFE. Phase Three: The crystallization and assessment 9; relationships and support. Kugri left a rather large yiippg consisting of several compounds in the center of the village. The head of one was Kiba, a younger brother (though then an elderly man). He had lived with Kugri in Ténga for several years and has assisted in the administration of the village. He sought the vacated chiefship, although it was common knowledge that he had a serious illness and apparently was not expected to live long. Another brother, living some distance away and older than Kiba, expressed his desire for the chiefship of Ténga as well. In addition, Kugri had two sons but these were apparently not con- sidered seriously by those who could influence the ultimate decision. No 193 mention was made, in fact, regarding their efforts to get the chiefship in spite of their apparent eligibility to present themselves as candi— dates. Noraogo, Yaogo's descendant seems to have held a somewhat special status in the eyes of the Koupela Naaba. He asked that his son be con- sidered for the chiefship. Some informants claim that he himself was considered also by the Koupela Naaba as a possible candidate. A son of the "old settlers", Antoine, had gone into the army in 1950; but when he heard that the chiefship was open, he wrote to the Koupela Naaba and to his kinsmen asking that he be considered as a candidate as well. He had a number of characteristics that commended him to the local people and to the Koupela Naaba, characteristics pointed out by informants which suggest their significance to the villagers. He was assumedly lineally related to many in the village. Second, he enjoyed a close friendship tie with Kugri's eldest son.2 By this time his army experience had given him a slight knowledge of French and of the world beyond. (He served in North Africa.) It was reported by several informants (and there is some data to confirm it) that Naaba Zdare sought to replace deceased chiefs with Christian chiefs where possible. Antoine was a Christian while the other candidates were not. A son of Naaba Piiga had expressed his intention to seek the chief- ship but died shortly before Naaba Kugri's demise under circumstances that some felt were questionable. (The facts cannot be verified. What is of significance is the present attitudes and convictions held by local pe0p1e in regard to this matter.) Although the actual appointment of successful candidates lay with 19!: the Koupela Naaba, he showed clearly his concern to make a decision that would not seriously alienate anyone while safeguarding his own interests at the same time. He was an educated man and quite aware of the political currents moving through the territory as well as an astute politican who understood Mossi attitudes, values and indigenous relationships locally. Phase Four: Marshalling 2: support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies. Kiba enjoyed certain advantages over other candidates. Although the other brother of Kugri (and therefore of the Koupela Naaba) was older, Kiba had lived in Ténga for some years. In the contest it became clear that other considerations predominate over the variable of relative age. According to some informants, Kiba's ill health acted as a positive rather than negative support in this instance. The Koupela Naaba is alleged to have stood off other candidates by asserting that Kiba would probably not live long.3 This meant, in effect, that any unsuccessful aspirants were not being fully rejected but were merely being asked to step aside temporarily. The events which ensue suggest, however, that a weak and maleable local chief (and of course a close kinsman) might have been better suited to the designs of Naaba zaare. Noraogo does not appear to have pushed very vigorously either for his own or his son's candidacy when confronting the Koupela Naaba. He had little support in the village, although one gains the impression that Noraogo or his son would have been more acceptable to the "old settlers” than those from Naaba zaare's family at this time. The Koupela Naaba formally consulted with the villagers, especially with Noraogo. The latter found it either useless or inadvisable to 195 resist what appears to have been Naaba Zéare's determination to appoint Kiba. In the eyes of at least some of the "old settlers", Noraogo weakened too easily and thus gained their enduring enmity, a kind of latent hostility that has been carried to his son's generation. Naaba zaare wrote Antoine of his decision to name Kiba as chief. According to Antoine's kinsmen, zaare reportedly promised him the chief- ship in the future, however. A short time later (the exact time I was not able to establish) Naaba Zdare gave Antoine his present wife, a girl who had been placed in the former's hands as a temporary ward. The measures which Zdare took during this period suggests a tacit recognition that Antoine and his people were acquiring the kind of support that could be effectively mobilized in the changing field situation and with which one had to reckon realistically. When Antoine was finally released from the army in 1953, piqued by the rejection of his request for the chiefship (and in spite of the Koupela Naaba's overtures) he left the village and went to Ouagadougou to live a short while. However, about this time Naaba ZEare was able to arrange the establishment of an experimental "pilot farm" project just outside Téngé. Bullocks, plows and buildings were furnished by a govern- ment agency. Since it was outside the village, persons from two villages were appointed to take part in the project. Naaba zaare took an active role and not only offered Antoine a place in the project but placed him over Kugri's eldest son as head of the operation. The reason for appoint- ing Antoine as leader, it is said, was due to his knowledge of French. He was, therefore, one who could deal more efficiently with government agents. A member of the Beghre lineage was a third local person from 196 Téngfi. One informant reported that Kiba's sons was also offered a place but he declined it. One can only surmise the reason for this refusal. The intense competition between himself and Antoine was apparently developing then. No local pe0p1e associated with the farm had had any experience in such matters so it ended as a fiasco according to all accounts. This does not seem to have affected Antoine's fortunes negatively then or in the future in the field. The project was a rather incomprehensible ad- venture to all actors in the field. The local catechist said in a dis- passionate way apparently not intended to be derogatory that none of them knew what they were doing. They had not been trained adequately. The fault lay primarily with the white (nasaraba) planners as most of the informants viewed it. Thus the prestige and the material gain were mobilized and manipulated by the Koupela Naaba and Antoine while neither seems to have suffered any loss of support locally through its failure. When Naaba zaare appointed Kiba as the new chief, there was no open rebellion in the village despite the obvious displeasure of some elders. However, they refused again to give such a candidate, more or less forced upon them, the local p§§p_pippg sacred symbols of the chiefship. There is no report of any formal investiture at Koupela which is custo- mary. As noted earlier, however, this does not seem to have been a critical issue when adequate secular support is afforded the candidate. In this case as with Kugri, he could draw powerful support directly from Koupela. In effect, now Kiba and his entire lineage-faction tended to be mere Spokesmen for Naaba Zhare, who, with the administration, inter- vened more directly into the local field. 197 Alphonse had been raised in Ténga and Koupela. He had one year of formal schooling and a number of firends among government functionaries in Koupela. In some ways he has the imperious, dominant bearing which characterized Kugri. Even today in a crowd he will be seen giving orders, dressing people down, taking charge of matters even where he has no formal authority to do so. His authority then was delegated by Kiba and later by Naaba Zéare after Kiba's death. He was assisted in admini- strative matters, particularly tax collecting by the Kamba Naaba or others from the Koupela court. The result was the gradual development of support and the ability to manipulate resources not so much around the chiefship as it was around the "Alphonse faction" (primarily his lineage mates, but a few other non-kinsmen as well) which Alphonse led. He was a spokesman for the Koupela court. He could draw support from this powerful structure in the ARFE in purely local situations as well. The first resident government functionary, an agricultural agent, came to live in the village in 195A. The change was both substantive and symbolic. Although the government had long used guards, clerks and interpreters for a few specific tasks in the village, the major admini- strative tasks of labor recruitment and taxation had been carried on via chiefs. Here, however, was a local personal agent of the government. The roles of the agent were limited and each incumbent has tended to be non-obtrusive as far as most indigenous social life is concerned. Yet the agent depended even less than the brothers of Naaba Zfiare upon elements in the field (e.g. persons and values) for support. His primary base of support was outside the field in the ARFE where he could tap resources with which no faction in the field could compete. The agent 198 represented the new kind of variable beginning to come into the field. As a result of a marked increase in migration to the labor markets in the countries of the south of Upper Volta, beginning around 1953 onward, larger numbers of Mossi from Ténga began converting to Islam, generally while away from home. There was a similar, though less strik- ing increase among Christian converts. Away from home it was becoming economically and socially expendient to associate oneself with groups where social symbols could be shared in the hetero—cultural milieu which they found down-country. The religious congregations provided just such symbols. (One personal acquaintance, a practical man, had become a Moslem twice and a Christian twice!) The result in the social field during this period was that these two religious groups, whose ranks swelled by returnees, began to take on greater importance socially. Virtually all the children of Alphonse's lineage became Christians, although Naaba Kiba did not. Antoine and many of his immediate lineage mates did, but many of the "old settlers" held to the indigenous beliefs and practices. It would appear those Mossi who had come to Ténga through the years as stranger—clients, though now formally fused as kinsmen into the Belemkoabga group, were most generally among those who turned to Islam.5 Whereas the indigenous social organization tended to product diffused relationships or "multiplex" ties with the same persons, the advent of new religious ties more or less (depending upon the individuals and the period of development of these structures) altered the nature of these diffuse and culturally homogeneous relationships. Christian marriage rules and Islam dietary rules particularly were cleavage-making phenomena which crosscut lineage norms, values and other expressions of social 199 solidarity in the more indigenous culture. Yet selective compliance to new rules (such as a Christian or Moslem providing a lineage elder with a chicken or animal to sacrifice, so that pg, not phgy, did the actual sacrificing) plus the reduction of structural boundary phenomena (as noted in Chapter Two) attenuated the threat to the former solidarity. This meant that in most social situations the average person could still marshall customary rules for support (e.g. recruiting kinsmen to assist with cultivation, visist diviners to deal with the ubiquitous soaaba) while allocating some allegience and some resources to newer structural ties. These newer structures developed under the leadership of the ip§p_ and the catechist (The latter was assisted by the priests at Koupela who visited regularly ). While the expressed goal was to draw and teach converts, the general tendency for one kind of social tie to beget another increasingly introduced economic cooperation and intermarriage within the particular belief system. Command over personnel, labor and marriage alliances had heretofore been primarily the province of the indigenous leaders: lineage elders and chiefs. These prerogatives now to some measure were shifting to the religious leaders. Co-religionists not only cultivated for each other but their labor was sometimes at the disposal of their leaders. Particularly was this the case with the Moslems. In addition, the faithful were encouraged to place at least part of the "alms" (gpgpg) into the hands of the local ip§p_for re- distribution, an obvious economic support. The Moslem ritual prayer (ggggg) with gifts occurred with greater frequency at life crises and at certain yearly feast days. There was movement of considerable 200 goods among members this way. Kiba died in 1957 but his passing seems to have little bearing on the social field since Alphonse and his assistants had effectively assumed leadership in many matters anyway. For reasons all of which never became entirely clear, no one was given the chiefship for seven years. During part of this time, the government decreed a short mora- torium on the appointment of chiefs and there were internal conflicts, but this does not adequately explain the failure to appoint someone during all of this period. Two brothers of the Koupela Naaba wanted the chiefship as did an eldest son of the late Naaba Kugri. One brother was seriously considered by Naaba zaare to receive the chiefship but died before a decision was made. Of the other two, both were rejected by the Koupela Naaba. Alphonse himself was not popular with the villagers and in fact was engaged in at least two public physical encounters with local men while he was in charge of the village (something very rare and most inapprOpriate for one of his status). Among the "old settlers" several aspired to the chiefship. Two descendants of Yaogo were among them as well as Antoine and Tendaogo--one of the most elderly men of the village and presently the "village elder". Not only was there much controversy within the field but factors in the ARFE undoubtedly impinged on the decision. The country was moving toward independence . The position of chiefs was a subject of serious discussion nationally in these days. The more sophisticated Naaba Zdare was undoubtedly much more aware of this than most villagers were. The Koupela court had directly controlled the village for almost 30 years through the chiefship. Informal control 201 through a classificatory son was clearly the strategy from Koupela for several years. No single actor in the field could muster the necessary support during this time to challenge it. In 1957 there was another direct but temporary intervention of the administration into the field. Large tractors and plows were brought into the lowland area of the Téngfi at the invitation of Naaba zaare. Ignoring prior boundaries of fields and land tenure rights held by lineages (of "old settlers"), the entire area of approximately 30 or ho acres was plowed for rice cultivation. It was then divided into 50 by 50 meter plots and given to compound heads from Ténga and also to some from nearby villages to whom the administration had made these available. Larger compounds were granted more than one plot. Naaba Zdare himself took several plots. Permanent title was granted to these small fields according to informants, although there were no written documents given as far as I could ascertain. The crop of rice that year was extremely good. However, the following year did not see a return of tractors and plows. The acreage was much reduced for at least two reasons. First, people were not able to cultivate as large a terrain, since all the work was now done by hand (while they of course attended their millet fields, the source of their main food crop). Second, many did not return to work their plots at all the next year. Many evidently did not comprehend fully the nature of permanent land tenure as a private right that could be held by individuals and defended in administrative courts. On the other hand most ggpp_aware of some contradiction in rules in the field which per- tained to land tenure. Customary rules would never permit the rather arbitrary reallocation of land in such a manner and there were sanctions 202 that enforced such rules. Yet the administration had done exactly that and had the formal sanctions to enforce the new rules in the field. There is no evidence that officials at any level sought to reconcile the con- tradiction and therefore the source of embarrassment and possible conflict. Here the differential access to information proved to be of con- siderable importance as a resource. Most cultivators from other villages were not fully aware of legal rights which they may have had in the eyes of the colonial administration. In the lpp§l_field they were essentially without customary rights as they presumed to cultivate the land belonging to another lineage without obtaining permission from its spokesmen. As a result many simply did not return. One local "old settler" informant declared triumphantly "Ton digi pg? (We ran them off). On the other hand, many of those of Alphonse's faction were not only aware of the meaning of these rights to land which the administration could and did accord persons, but they had Naaba Zdare's example and tacit support as well. Therefore, these are among the principal cultivators of rice there today. Kinship and other social ties with the Koupela court which one could marshall therefore again proved an important resource in a contest within the field. This particular aspect of the marshalling activity in the field shifted rights over much of the most fertile land from the control of line- age leaders (the "old settlers" and thus members of the faction associated with Antoine) to others in the field not only to cultivate, but in some cases to reallocate to others as well in subsequent transactions. Quite as important was the obvious shift in values and pgpgg.p£ options for action now available in the field. Certain individuals had found that they could ignore customary land tenure rules and hence ignore the 7 203 authority of lineage elders with impunity if they could draw adequate support from some structure in the ARFE into the local field. During the period that extended from the l9hO's until the end of Alphonse's service in 196A, an interesting process in some respects similar to the above was taking place. Naaba Zéare encouraged the planting of trees throughout his district. His relatives in Téngfi coop- erated. Until 1960 the procurement of labor was no great problem for the chiefs so the trees were well tended. These trees were planted on local lineage land. While lineage land cannot be taken by just anyone, formerly a chief could pre-empt such land if he wished. As a relative of Kugri said: There was no great problem with land when Kugri had the chiefship. It was pgpg§_wakate a time when chiefs had real coercive power . If a chief wanted something done he told people to do it and they did it. If he wanted to plant trees, he did. It was after the present chief's lineage got the chiefship that we hear this empty talk about land and planted trees. What this has come to mean is that wherever Kugri or Kiba exercised this right as chiefs and planted trees, the land around them was assumed to belong to them too. When these men died, their land and trees have passed to their heirs (mainly Alphonse) as lineage land of that group. In terms of resources we see, first, the rules pertaining to the rights of chiefs taking preeminence over rules affecting land tenure between commoner lineages. The result was the marshalling of land resources for the chiefs in power. Subsequently, however, the heirs of chiefs, now in effect commoners, retained the rights over both land and trees through family rights of inheritance. The older lineages of course lost this land, some of which was within the village. In another incident we see how access to certain information is 20h critical during this phase. The above informant continued: We used to believe that if you planted a tree and it yielded fruit that you would die. But Naaba Zéare planted trees and he didn't die. Many of those in the Alphonse faction were associated as children or gardeners not only with the agricultural activities of the Koupela Naaba but also with those of the Mission. The information gleaned from such participation and observation resulted in their exploitation of water and land resources available in Ténga in a more efficient fashion than others in the village generally. Without exception those who engage in gardening or who grow trees in Ténga are either of this group or else someone who has been a gardener for another chief or European either locally or elsewhere. It is another case where ties with the ARFE prove to be the most effective means of gaining the dominant position in a local contest. It also exemplifies the multi-structured nature of the field and the diverse rules which can be marshalled by different groups to the advantage or disadvantage of certain individuals and groups. In 1958 the administration came into the area again, this time to rebuild the pounded earth causeway, creating a modest concrete dam across the small wet season river which flooded the rice growing area mentioned above. The object was to improve the cultivation of rice in these lowlands. There were several months of wage labor available to the men of Ténga and a number of nearby villages. Alphonse was instrumental in recruiting this labor since he was now in charge of the village. This was an additional resource which he was able to manipulate which could have functioned as a significant support for his candidacy for chief later and as an indirect support for the chiefship locally. Subsequent events 205 tend to prove that he used this opportunity to gain popular support for neither, however. In the later 1950's events beyond the local field were transpiring that directly affected the social process within it at this time. Koupela became a sub-district and soon afterward a full district before independ- ence in 1960. The first African commandant took office in Koupela before the latter date. The position of many leaders in the administration has characterized as being "anti-chief". This was expressed by some of the commandants in Koupela after independence according to some informants. Matters such as the nature and numbers of servants of chiefs came under scrutiny. Certain ostentatious symbols marking chiefly position were dispensed with by government decree. In Spite of his long record of service as both indigenous chief and leader in economic development in the area, Naaba Zéare was severely criticized by some political leaders. Koupela was reduced to a simple canton a year or so before independence under the first African command- ant, reducing greatly the relative position of the chief. The system of customary labor recruitment for chiefs came under criticism as well and led the Koupela Naaba to abandon fields such as those mentioned above at Ténga. His son was a député to the National Assembly and a well—known p01itical figure who took a very active and decisive hand in the political life of the town. When he and his father broke with each other on polit- ical issues, the latter was more completely deprived of administrative support which he had enjoyed for so many years. The result of this reduction in power in the Koupela court had very real consequences for the Alphonse faction in Ténga. The primary support that two generations 206 of chiefs had enjoyed was reduced to a shadow of its former dimensions. Although Alphonse did not hold the title of chief he was able to organize work and recruit labor for agricultural enterprises in Naaba Zdare's name. There was some profit personally from this. With the new turn of events after independence, local labor was now unavailable to either, which meant a direct economic loss to Alphonse. Even recruitment of labor for projects intended for the common good, he was unsuccessful in accomplishing. At one time during his tenure, he and a few others in the village wished to begin an Ecole Rurale.8 Villagers were asked to assist with the adobe brick~making and the build— ing. Men from Alphonse's quarter and a very few others cooperated. As a result the project foundered and the school was established elsewhere. On the other hand the "old settler" faction was less affected by the above changes in the ARFE. Independence and the reduction of the power of the Koupela Naaba were in fact positive supports for them and put them on much more common footing with the other faction. In addition, sometime during this period they had called upon the Koupela Naaba to assist them in getting back two of their children who had gone to live with their mother's pe0p1e after their father, a member of the "old settler" group, had died. When the children were returned, they were then turned over to Naaba Zéare as his wards. This created an added bond with him and an important support for Antoine's pe0p1e in future dealings in the local field. Of considerable importance to the Moslem community and village social structure was the return in 1960 of the Yarse, Kugri's mother's brothers, who had fled during his tenure. During this hbsence, one of them had 207 become an ipgp; It was soon evident that his views of Islam were much more strict than those of the ip§p_that had come 30 years before. The increased number of adepts plus the much reduced power of the chiefship (and in fact the absence of a chief at all in the formal sense) made his work of converting his quarter into a bastion of Islam of a more separatist type much easier. Thus he was able to marshall a number of factors to consolidate the Moslem community before which he later became undisputed leader. The structural cleavage has become more complete between Moslem and non-Moslem than it was formerly. The increasing labor market toward the coast and to a lesser measure in public works projects in the country, plus the increase of cash cr0ps encouraged by the building of dams and plowing projects as those noted above greatly augmented the movement of personnel in and out of the field. Young men as well as women had increased freedom from economic dependence upon lineage leaders and at the same time withdrew some of their labor which constituted an important support for these leaders and the structures they represented. The absence of certain family members at tax-gathering time led to intra—lineage controversies. Tax paying was a corporate enterprise. Those present were thus forced to assume the tax load of the absent ones since all were inscribed as a family unit on the administrative rolls. According to some informants this led to break-up of larger lineage groups as tax-paying units into smaller nuclear or polygynous family groups. This was a long-term process which found particular expression during this stage but which undoubtedly began to some measure even earlier. 208 Phase Five: Resolution of the process: Adjustive mechanisms. As the social process evolved in the local field, we note that some supports were withdrwan, particularly from Alphonse's lineage which had held the chiefship for several years. While the position of the "old settlers" did not improve greatly in terms of command over new resources, their relative over—all support structure zi§_§_zi§_the Alphonse faction became much improved. The increasing tendancy of actors in the field to form culturally specific or "simplex" ties in the market (through sale of labor and goods) and in religious bodies meant that the more indigenous mechanisms of resolving the conflicts and reorganizing the field by former means proved increasingly inadequate. This process during which the com- mand over persons and control of decision making became more diffused saw different structural foci gaining access to these goals to varying degrees. No one faction commanded the resources which could give them the chiefship. Even Naaba Ziare could not formally affect a polarization which would give the chiefship to some individual and yet assure stability. The process was resolved by the administration. Sometime early in l96h, the commandant at Koupela ordered a popular election for chief to be held in Téngd. The heads of families were to vote. The election is the subject of the next stage. Phase Six: New resource distribution and structural alignments. The Koupela Naaba had by now been shorn of much of his power and thus was less able to act directly in the local field on behalf of his close kinsmen heading the Alphonse faction. The above indicates that, in fact, his support had shifted in some respects in favor of Antoine and his people. The.conduct of the imposed chiefs and of Alphonse all in all did 209 not elicit the kind of relationships in the field which could be mobilized as support in a showdown situation. Both factions could draw support from the Mission, although national independence had greatly reduced the direct public participation of European religious personnel in non-religious matters. Since both major factions participated in the Christian community, it served to offset to some measure lineage and other social cleavages. The Moslem community now included most of the Yarse (only part of one Yarse compound was Christian) and some of the "old settler" Mossi. None of the Alphonse faction were Moslem. With the return of the Kugri's mother's brothers, with their stricter interpretation of Islam, part of the community, especially the quarter associated with the new ipgp) assumed an identity more distinct from others than Moslems had had in the paSt. Some Mossi converts moved to the Yarse (and therefore predominantly Moslem) quarters. The behavior of the community in respect to Moslem public practices set it apart further. The relative economic independence of the younger men and to a lesser degre of women meant the loss of labor and goods to the lineage and thus continued support for the lineage elders. This support now became avail- able for smaller familial units and for religious and economic structures generally. Among those who defied customary rules and who retained the rice field allocated by the administration was at least one member of the Beghre group. Though little is said openly of their ex—slave status,an occasional remark here and there by a few informants suggested that they considered limits to social mobility to be correct for these people. Yet 210 in this instance one of them was able to mobilize rules introduced into the field by the colonial administration to gain land which he could not have otherwise received. Another Beghre has been mentioned as a trader in kola nuts and had become a Moslem as well. These statuses were related since this trade is generally in the hands of Moslems throughout the area. The result of these successes in social mobility through new options and structural foci which entered the field meant in effect that social cleavage which existed in former times was now muted or ignored. 211 STAGE V Phase One: The socially shared goal. The goal of this stage was the office of the chiefship of Ténga. As Stage IV reveals, one can no longer ascribe the kind of attributes to this office that were assigned to it in Stages One, Two, and Three. Therefore the chiefship no longer carries with it the degree of monopoly of command over resources in the field which it once did. Phase Two: The focal event. The event which initiated this particular process was an announcement by the administration in 196k that the family heads of Ténga would vote publicly for their next chief. Phase Three: Crystallization and assessment 2£_relationships and gppport. (While several informants related events and conditions of this stage, the information is not as balanced as one would have wished. This is due to the somewhat understandable reluctance of the unsuccessful candidates to talk freely about the election or events leading up to it. This does not mean that there is an absence of input from all sides; it is an ad- mission of inadequacies however.) The last phase of Stage IV affords us a picture of the social struc- tures and relationships when the announcement was made that an election would be held. There were several dominant actors in the field representing various interests in respect to the chiefship. Alphonse had acted in the capacity of chief, mediating conflicts, organizing public work projects and collecting taxes for about 7 years. There is no evidence that Naaba zaare gave any support to Alphonse's 212 candidacy at this time. Conflicts between both sons of Kugri and between them and Alphonse had developed, with not one supporting the candidacy of the other, al— though each expressed his desire for the office. Besides the general apathy of the "old settlers" toward the lineage that had taken the chief— ship from them for so many years, there were specific charges against Alphonse. He was accused of disrespecting elders and of overstepping his authority by taking goods from the villagers. He shared the accusation levelled at most candidates at different times, that of behaving unseemly in respect to women.9 It will be recalled that he had fought publicly with at least two men in the village. The eldest son of Kugri was apparently the most acceptable to the "old settlers" of any in the Alphonse faction. However, he had little if any support in Koupela and little within the village in a contest such as this in which he stood as a representative of imposed chiefs against a local man. His younger brother, the son of Kugri raised by Yarse, also had little support in his effort to obtain the chiefship. One Yarse who raised him is said to have stood with him (in a manner appropriate for a mother's brother). He also had established a close tie with the son of Naaba Zéare, the député, who actively supported him. Among the "old settlers", the village elder, Tendaogo, had wide- spread kinship ties and expressed a desire initially to be considered. He had rather steadfastly fought with the imposed chiefs over the years, a fact which tended now to be a positive support for him. Culturally he typified most closely the indigenous values and norms. He was, however, 213 quite elderly. A grandson of Naaba Piiga claimed to have been seriously considered but this is doubtful. Irregularities regarding his birth plus accusa- tions of having poisoned a kinsman, bringing about his death, (and, again alleged indiscreet conduct in respect to women!) were reasons given for his failure to be acceptable. Antoine was the only one of the candidates who had travelled very extensively. He had some knowledge of the French language and administration. He had gained the reputation of being a mediator in disputes locally and he is said to have given proper deference to the elders and was, therefore, acceptable to them generally. He had already established positive relations with the Koupela Naaba and with the minister charged with gathering names of candidates, the Kamba Naaba. Finally, an elderly member of the "old settlers", but originally of client status asked to be considered. He had been a gardener for Naaba Zdare, He saw his ties with the latter was well as kinship and neighborly relationships in the village as adequate supports for his candidacy presumably. Each candidate necessarily bad to consider his relationship to Naaba Zdare. The latter's prestige had suffered at the hands of the national administration but customary rules and values were still dominant factors and supports to be marshalled in this field. These included the re- cognition of the authority of the Koupela chiefship. The reduction of his power and of his bases of support did not change many aspects of his rule in local areas. The implications of new modes of selecting leaders and allocating power were little understood locally at that time, anyway. Noraogo, the descendant of Yaogo, the first chief, had died. None 21h Of the younger generation in that lineage were put forward as candidates. It should be noted that not many of Naaba Zéare's generation were left in his family and no mention was made of imposing someone outside the village. The nature Of the election may have left little hope of success for such a candidate anyway. Informants Voiced the Opinion, however,that had there ppp_been an election, another chief would have probably been imposed upon them from among Naaba zaare's people. Hence, the presence of new rules and information in the field were of critical importance. Crosscutting ties now were affecting relationships within the field. dembers of both the "Old settlers" and Alphonse factions were Christians. These were led by Alphonse's father's brother, the catechist. The Moslems now included Belemkoabga people. There were affinal ties with non-Moslem "old settlers" as well. Commerical ties such as kola nut merchants, but- chers, smiths and petty merchants provided links between the Yarse, Beghre and "Old settler" groups in market activities. Some family heads Of "strangers" and Yarse had been servants Of Kugri and Kiba and had been treated with consideration by them. Besides these who had enjoyed advantages during the tenure Of these chiefs, several Belemkoabga families had lived in relative tranquility at that time, somewhat outside the scope of the disputes Of their kinsmen with Kugri, in particular. Affinal ties crosscut most ethnic and factional groups. (It will be recalled that Alphonse's lineage members were classificatory sister's sons of the Belemkoabga people or "old settlers".) In spite of the restructuring which was taking place in the village, lineage norms and values continued to be shared in respect to many aspects ,__— 215 of life. Thus the tendancy was for the younger men at home to generally acquiesce to the desires and direction of the elder. Phase Four: Marshalling 93 support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies. Word of the proposed election came to the village about three months before it occurred, so there was some time for manoevering for support. It became clear rather quickly that the former gardener of Naaba zaare stood little chance in the contest. Nothing is said of his partic- ipation in any serious manner. The elderly Tendaogo either stepped aside or was requested to do so due to his advanced age. A chief is required to move about, particularly in matters that pertain to tax gathering and in regard to other contacts with the district Office. Some knowledge of French and the customs of national government were resources which Tendaogo did not have, in spite Of the criteria of age and kinship ties which were in his favor within the field. As the election approached, the three sons of Kugri and Kiba and Antoine were the only serious candidates. Mossi custom set the tone of the search for support. This was not done so much by overt campaigning for votes as it was by behind-the-scenes manoevering. Three dominant factors were seen by the people as determinants of the election and thus, supports to be sought: the Koupela Naaba, the local voting constituency and supernatural assistance. (There is no evidence that the admini- stration intervened in any way during this phase.) For years the Koupela Naaba had imposed his choice upon the village. Some informants claimed that had the Alphonse faction not fought among themselves, one of them might have been appointed as chief. Reflecting 216 the logic of the time and worldview Of most of the actors, it was apparently assumed by these that Naaba Zdare would have found gppg way to appoint another from his family in spite of changes in government. There was a prevailing lack of sophistication regarding such novelties as European—style elections. Hence there was a rather general dependance upon (or acquiescence to) trusted and more powerful leaders to direct the common man as to how he should vote in any given election. Therefore such an assertion as that above does not appear unreasonable (though possibly in error) whatever the other variables in the field might have been. The second factor was the population within the field who would actually vote. The field now was much less culturally homogeneous. The above shows that crosscutting ties, the varying understanding Of European political processes, and conflicting Mossi values demanding both deference to chiefs (i.e. Naaba Zéare) and loyalty to one's lineage mates provided a set of variables which made prediction somewhat hazardous. These reflect the various bases of support now potentially available to candidates. The nature Of the third factor, supernatural assistance, does not commend itself to very close Observation. However, as the evidence pointed more and more toward the victory of a single candidate, an in- formant explained the persistence Of the others: The thought was that with help of "medicine" (piip) at the last moment the commandant would turn and put the chief's skull cap (ppgl§l_on the other candidate. He substantiated his reasoning by telling of "medicine" being em- ployed to put a candidate to sleep in another town on just such an occasion 217 (with dire consequences following for the guilty party). While we may assume that the supernatural aids or deterents had little actual bearing upon the outcome, the belief in such factors by many in the field affected the process, for these were to them very real elements. In effect the election was decided by the Koupela court long before it was held. The chief correctly recognized that the pe0p1e would not choose the candidates from his family. He knew that he probably no longer had resources as the Koupela Naaba nor influence with the national administration of sufficient magnitude to bring to bear on the local field at Ténga in order to impose another local chief on them. In addi- tion, his son's involvement by actively backing one candidate brought a negative reaction from the Koupela Naaba nd his ministers. It was con- sidered improper by them for a chief's son as well as a "politician" to name a village chief. This was clearly a matter to be resolved in a more customary fashion (in spite of the commandant's role of calling for the election in the first place). As the election time drew near, Naaba Zéare, through the Kamba Naaba, sent for some representative elders Of the "Old settlers" to choose a candidate. Old Tendaogo and the eldest grandson Of Naaba Piiga headed the delegation. Informant accounts differ slightly, but would appear that they either selected Antoine or ratified his nomi- nation by Naaba Zéare. The matter, at any rate, seems to have been settled then and there. In spite Of the very Obvious contacts which Antoine had had with the Koupela Naaba plus the fact that he had sought the chiefship before, an 218 individual of the Koupela court involved in the covert arrangements claimed that zaare hardly knew Antoine and that the latter was both reluctant and surprised to have been chosen. This posture was apparently necessary in an effort to avoid accusations of collusion being levelled against those involved. The continued active candidacy Of the other two until election day suggests that the above "arrangement" was kept secret from them or that there was hope that help would materialize supernaturally. Among the "old settlers", however, the word was passed, instructing the men how to vote. The word Of village elders reamins a valuable resource where family heads are concerned, and these elders supported Antoine. Gossip and inuendo against the other candidates proved to be re- sources in Antoine's favor. The relating of alleged abuses of Kugri, Kiba and Alphonse were negative supports for the latter and Kugri's sons while providing a positive support to Antoine's candidacy. The intrusion Of the député on behalf Of a candidate proved to be an affront to the villagers as it had been to the Koupela Court. It proved thus a further liability to the man and positive support for the "old settlers" candidate. The long standing network of customary ties of reciprocity which existed between the "Old settlers" and the Beghre lineages were marshalled on Antoine's behalf as well. The fact of independence and those election rules which extended the right of family heads to elect village chiefs was a resource in the ARFE which was marshalled by the "old settlers". While it is not probable that the commandant was fully aware of all the activities Of the Koupela Naaba in the field, his tacit permission 219 that indigenous rules Operate in conjunction with the legal ones of the administration proved to be indriect support for Antoine. Phase Five: Resolution p£_the process: Adjustive mechanisms. The night before the election the Kamba Naaba sent a servant to announce the commandant's coming to conduct the election the next day. The man received orders to present an air of impartiality by buying his own food and by sleeping in the market place in order to avoid accepting hospitality from any candidate. The next day the candidates were called to the central meeting place in the village before the commandant. The election was public. Instead of ballots, voters were to stand behind the candidate of their choice at a given moment. At the last minute, Alphonse asked to withdraw from the race. An extremely proud man, it was almost certainly prompted by this rather than any other pressure. Old Tendaogo led the "Old settlers" by stepping up behind Antoine. The vote was 79 in favor of Antoine, 7 for Alphonse and 5 for the eldest son of Kugri. This process was resolved in part by the mechanism set up by the government. Yet it is doubtful if the matter would have been settled as peaceably had not the institutionalized modes of Mossi conflict resolution come into play. The elders of the village came to an agree- ment, then they and the Koupela Naaba found a solution between them with which all could live. The support structure which served to establish the prerogatives and limitations of the chiefship had been transformed particularly during this and the last stage. It generated new conditions for gaining the 220 chiefship but reflected profound changes in the nature of the chiefship as well. Phase Six: New resource distribution and structural alignments. Obviously the chiefship was now in possession Of the "Old settlers". Naaba Ziare could no longer exercise the control he once did in the local field although he was able to share in directing the course of events since customary rules still had validity in most Of the field. The chief enjoyed ties with the Koupela Naaba in respect to his Office. However, the children of Naaba Zéare's lineage still had rather free access to him while the chief's relation to him was of a more formal nature. Due to the rise in education, ease Of travel, increased market activity and laws promulgated by the national administration, the re- sources which the Office of chief controlled were tremendously reduced. The village chief was not recognized by law as an integral part of the chain of governmental command. They were unsalaried "auxiliaries", al- though they were given a small percentage Of the tax monies which they assisted in gathering. They did not differ greatly from the ordinary villager on the matter of recruiting assistance with cultivation. While the Naab Koobo (the chief's cultivation) continues to draw large numbers, the turnout depends primarily upon the same factors that are found any where else--sufficient food and g§§p__for the workers to consume. The right to use coercion as a means of social control which customary rules as well as the colonial government supported to some degree was virtually eliminated. Although it was commonly assumed that litigants 221 would use local resources for settling disputes, they were not so re- quired by law and coul sidestep indigenous authority with impunity. Of course resources, like the power that they make possible, did not just disappear when they were no longer available to indigenous authorities. Families and lineages disposed of goods and labor that a chief had formally pre-empted. Some Of both were sold on the market. Yet along with the evolution in the attributes and support structure of the chief, we see a similar change in the lineage. Resources over which lineage leaders could monopolize command were reduced as well. On the other hand, leaders in non-indigenous structures noted above were gain- ing increased control of resources. With the increase of "simplex" ties, we can no longer speak Of ppppp; ply_of control. The kind of relative monopoly over persons, their goods and their services which the lineage and chiefship once commanded now had passed to a large measure. The field is now more complex with individuals being less than totally committed to (and therefore controlled by) a particular institution or structural arrangement. Equally, no social structure is now able to gain a hegemony either of persons in the field or of even the total allegience of those they partically control. Thus relationships such as those within religious bodies and in the market gained partial commitment from, and control over segments Of the popu- lation in the field. In spite of the active participation of the Koupela Naaba, he was in essence an agent of the administration (albeit an agent with considerable discretionary power in this matter). The new chief, legally, is answer- able directly to the commandant. The latter provided the means for his 222 accession to the chiefship. The administration equally has power to remove him at any time. While he has a potentially powerful support from the administration, his ability to manipulate this support as an effective resource in the field is extremely limited. Relationships with the administration are based primarily on different kinds of rules than customary ones with which the chief is more familiar. Informants' remarks as well as subsequent events suggest that one must not assign too much weight to the positive role of common kinship bonds which seemed to reflect solidarity among the Belemkoabga members voting for Antoine. Rather, the vote may possibly be seen more as an Opportunity to repudiate Alphonse and his faction, than an expression of unity among the "old settlers" and others who voted for Antoine. The subsequent failure of the new chief to consolidate the village behind him attests that "independence" was (and is) expressed in many ways. Through this stage as the role of kinship was reduced, the import- ance of elders was reduced equally. Thus the role of the quarter also as a political entity and in dispute settlement, was reduced. The ipgpg, for example, in many respects determined internal policy among Moslems through the sanctions of Islamic dogma. The structural importance of the Moslem group and of Christian groups evolved further in direct com- petition with the chiefship, quarter elders and lineage elders in con- trolling resources and setting policy.10 The unsuccessful effort Of the député from Koupela to intervene in the election and the rather free hand which Naaba Zfiare was able to exercise in manipulating actors in the field reflects two important facts. First, the exercise Of influence by a national politician at this level 223 was regarded as inappropriate in such a process and in fact was resented. On the other hand, the role which Naaba Zéare played in what may have been regarded as a matter between the village and the administration was not regarded as irregular at all. Rather, this man who had stood be- ween them and the administration for 51 long was apparently seen as acting quite properly by those in the field. 22h STAGE VI Phase One: Socially shared goals. A dominant goal during this stage was to gain relative command over personnel and relative control of the public decision-making. The Office Of chief as well as that Of lineage elder customarily provided privileged access to such goals in the indigenous culture. However, we have seen in the foregoing the development of other social structures with associated leadership statuses which held increasingly large repertories of re- sources. The above goals thus came to be shared by the leaders of these structures in greater measure. Phase Two: The focal event. The installation of Antoine as the new chief of Téngé in l96h initiated this process during which we Observe the trend toward less structural homogeneity as the field evolved through time. This cultural diversity had of course already proceeded to such a measure that the election of a chief actually had far less effect on the village than the appointment Of Kugri had had when the chiefship had a much greater monOpoly over public power and other resources. Phase Three: The cpystallization and assessment p£_relationships and support. Antoine now possessed the chiefship, a symbol that reflected authority and real power in the past but one whose meaning had been vastly altered. The spirited effort of several men to achieve the Office suggests that it was yet an important goal to be sought, however. Thus, it is clear that some values associated with it were shared by most of the populace. On the other hand there are indications that the 22S defeat of the opposition as well as some misconceptions about the pre- sent chief's role played had much to do with the election and the re- sults as well. One of the chief's relatives described him immediately after the election as assuming that the villagers would surely accord him customary deference, that they would bring their gifts and Offer their labor as it was done to Mossi chiefs in the past. He was finally made aware that such resources no longer attach automatically to the Office of chief. One occupying this Office even in the past had to control resources in measure sufficient either to recompense assistance or to achieve it by coercive measures. The chief did not have the personal capital to create social dependancies. (Those in his limited circle of near kinsmen could do little to assist him in this respect either.) Even had he been able to exert force to gain compliance, coercive sanctions had been severely reduced during the colonial era and had been effectively abolished on the eve of national independence-~a further reduction Of support. When trouble cases arose, if the family or lineage instruments Of conflict resolution failed, means other than the chief were easily avail- able to disputants. Religious leaders played a role in settling disputes, or one could go directly to the district commandant's Office or to the Gendarmerie in Koupela to seek redress for wrongs. The chief was thus much less indispensable in the judicial process generally than custom suggested. It will be remembered that many (if not most) of the local Belem- koabga lineages which supported the chief in the election were linked to him and to each other by vague collateral kinship ites. (Some Of 226 which were imputed to absorbed strangers.) The solidarity suggested by the unified support then had little practical substance in most every day experiences. The contingent goal of removing a common political adversary while gaining access to the symbol of local authority had been achieved. There was little to maintain this appearance of unity in the absence Of such a crisis. Therefore the groups tended to segment again. Voting for Antoine, it has been noted, was a means of removing Alphonse from power and possibly of asserting current changing attitudes about the chiefship itself to some measure. Given the weakened position Of the chiefship and the chief's lack of a very adequate resource base, there was little tO attract new re- sources which could subsequently act as fresh support for the chief (and the chiefship). Amidst the increased cultural diversity in the field pe0p1e were inclined to recognize the chief in little more than a perfunctory fashion generally, possibly as a symbol Of village solidarity and a link with the broader Mossi culture and history. This is brought out as informants criticize chiefs, indicating how a chief "should" con- duct village affairs and the power and responsibilities he "should" have. Implicit in this is the positive value given to the chiefship yet. There seemed to be little change in the social or political ties with the Koupela Naaba. The latter had "given" Antoine the chiefship but the relationship seems to have continued to be rather formal. The chief did not generally approach the Koupela Naaba unbidden. The minister who was instrumental in his procurring the chiefship now continued to serve as a liaison between the Koupela Naaba and the chief. Educated man that he was who had easy access to the district 227 offices, he served as a valuable go-between in respect to the admini- stration and the village as well. The administration which had initiated the election and thus made it possible for the chief to gain Office retained its rather character— istic disinterested posture. It could ignore him or enlist his aid as it chose in the execution Of its own prOgrams in the village. It could at any time in the interest of its goals remove him from Office as well. The relationship was asymmetrical in the extreme. Antoine's position was perhaps best expressed by the status designation printed on his identity card in 1966, simply that of cultivateur with no reference to his title as chief of the village. Alphonse was clearly displeased by the result of the election. Yet be retained certain advantages. He enjoys the relationship Of classifi- catory son of Naaba Zéare. A close relative Of his plus children of ministers in the Koupela court are functionaries in the district Office. The location Of Alphonse's compound in the village near the center and near the road gives him and his faction an advantage in news-gathering and in meeting visitors, some of them well-placed in the ARFE. In con- trast the chief remains near the edge of the village, and somewhat out of range of many events and much social discourse. The nature of ethnic and religious structural ties were adequately covered at the close of Stage IV. Phase Four: Marshalling support and/or reckoning with countervailing elements and tendencies. In the Stage IV it was noted how religious groups were able to extend their positions in the field. At the same time the monopoly over 228 resources by indigenous structures was being reduced. The year following the election, the trend continued. The Moslems erected a rather large mosque on the main road. A generous gift for its erection came from a prominent Moslem in Koupela. The commandant sent road equipment to level the terrain for the building. These illustrate the support this group were now drawing from the ARFE. Recognition came from Ouagadougou and Koupela when the younger ip§p_was named to lead the whole Moslem community in the village. During these few years they have begun a Koranic school where a half dozen or more boys study under the imams. They contribute labor to the group as well. The imam's family has become the largest producer of cotton in the village. The muting of indigenous social boundaries by religious bodies was illustrated at one pre-nuptial ceremony. Generally the two lineages involved sit in distinct groups facing each other for the transfer of gifts. On this particular occasion Mossi Moslems of a Belemkoabga lineage sat in the position of kinsmen behind a fellow Moslem of a Beghre lineage who was marrying. It will be recalled that a similar development in reference to burials was pointed out in the fourth stage. A constant round of Moslem rituals (gpggg) go on for events such as naming ceremonies, weddings, funerals, planting, for illnesses and for holy days. Most that were observed entail gifts of money, food and fowls which are redistributed, accounting for an important movement of goods within the field. As the Moslem community grew, ties with the general area around Ténga ramified and were reinforced particularly through the gp§g§_rituals. The most important ceremony Observed was that of the Feast of 229 Tabaski. In 1970 between hOO and 500 Moslems from the whole area gathered at Ténga for this. Prominent among the activities noted was an exhortation to conform to Islamic doctrine more closely and to direct one's almsgiving through the i§§p§_for redistribution. Such rituals rather clearly function to assert the solidarity of this community. The corollary of this is seen in a decreasing tendency to partic- ipate in activities shared with non-Moslems. Relatively few Moslem children--and none from Siganvuse--are in school. NO strict Yarse Moslem came to the chief's day Of hoeing (naaba kOObo). Moslems did not come to the feast Of Bengdo at harvest time to honor the chief. (Although a few associated with the Old.ippp_came the following day from that quarter.) Several were not seen on a day when a vaccination team and government officials came. The tendancy to cultivate and feast together as well as intermarry continues and contributes to this same trend. The generally rather soft-spoken leaders do not give an air of arrogant defiance as much as displaying an effort to avoid activities which are ritually polluting. Qggg drinking, for example, is forbidden; yet it is part of most Mossi gatherings. With the further development Of the market, those with Moslem affiliation are found in key roles. They control the local kola trade and the metal work for bodily adornment such as bracelets and hair pins, they constitute the majority of traders in foreign manufactured goods, Operate a grinding mill and dominate the meat section. (It will be re- called that even a non—Moslem butcher needs a Moslem to cut the throat of his animal in order for it to be "clean" for Moslems as well as others to eat.) 230 A second structure that has continued to expand somewhat is the Christian community. Here again certain indigenous categorical boundar- ies are muted as those of various statuses share this common social focus. The continued participation Of Christians in certain Mossi practices as sharing of food and gggp drinking. In contrast to the stricter Moslems attendance and participation in most indigenous funeral rituals has created much less social distance between them and those who follow Mossi custom completely. Less explicit demands are made upon the adherents to share their goods with the church or with others than was evidenced among Moslems. Thus the role of redistributing well is less important with Christians. In 1967 the Mission contributed grain at a reduced price during a food shortage. In 1969 a large church was built in the center of the village. The chief was sent to Abidjan to collect donations for the church building project, but most of the funds are reported to have come from Europe. The large church and central location has made Ténga a major gathering point for Christians from the surrounding area and thus a means of establishing ties with many points in the ARFE. However, generally actors in the field recognize that most of the above material goods which have entered the field have been brought in and administered by the Mission (and have not been wrested from the con- trol of others in the field). Conversations with those in the field suggest that they view these as resourced from Koupela and not necessar- ily an aspect of the local repertory of resources being manipulated to gain support. Therefore, these resources have not played an important 231 role in drawing support for the local Christian community and its leaders, it would appear. The lack of social distance between Christians and Mossi who follow indigneous custom ore completely meant that boundary phenomena separating them in important social activities were few. The result was that resour- ces as labor and goods have not tended to move among Christians pp£y_as they have tended to so move among Moslems. Marriage has remained an important aspect Of structural unity in both religious groups. In this respect both religious groups have continued to receive women from those who follow indigenous practices only but virtually no reciprocity in this respect takes place. A rather field-wide assumption is held that a woman formally takes the religion of her husband. Small wonder that informants repeat that "custom" will end in perhaps two generations. In 1967 a school was established in the village. It has been a new focus of dispute among the chief and Alphonse's faction. Neither wanted it located too close to his adversary. It was finally placed roughly halfway between them. Alphonse's ties in Koupela gave his faction the only jobs available to local residents as laborers during virtually all Of the building project. The chief had no vital part in it. The commandant allocated him only a couple Of ill-paying contracts for adobe brick for a second teacher's residence. The teachers--as others connected with the government--depended little upon those in the field for critical support. On the other hand they commanded resources in the field and could draw in others from the ARFE which can make them formidable competition. They dispensed education which is the best means of social mobility. They hold the key as to who would or wouldn't succeed locally in this enterprise. Schooling removes 232 much Of the labor of each child from the family over several months of the year. Schools and school teachers enjoy that legitimacy even among the unschooled, who generally hold broad expectations as to the ultimate rewards that will eventually be theirs when a child at last holds a well- paying position sufficient to reward a father denied his labor input now. Two cases of litigation illustrate somewhat the position Of the school teachers yi§_§_yi§_the chief. The teacher turned to the chief with one matter and went directly to the commandant with the second. We note the ability Of one among the educated, culturally dominant group to ignore or employ the services Of the chief as it seems expedient to him. The school teachers were both Mossi. Therefore they shared much cultur- ally with the villagers. This tended to mute somewhat the social distance inherent in the class difference (with its implications of material, educational and prestige differentials). Dietary and marital rules placed them with Christians generally as opposed to the Moslem and indigenous population. Individuals so powerful were of course themselves resources to be converted into support for other actors in the field when possible. In this respect the chief succeeded generally over the Alphonse faction. The church provided one means of establishing this tie when a member of Antoine's lineage was chosen as godfather to the head teacher's child. On occasion school teachers (as well as the resident agricultural agent) were important means by which actors could gain assistance in some aspect of the ARFE. Although little was explicitly mentioned publicly regarding the Beghre lineages and social mobility, one can abstract in this period 233 an interesting trend. Their inclusion in the two religious structures has already been noted. One retained his riceland granted by the ad- ministration and the same man subsequently refused to return land which a Belemkoabga lineage provided his father and the rights to which he had therefore inherited. During this period another who had become a Moslem went to live with his mother's brother in another village, a prosPerous Moslem trader. As a result this man took up trading, succeeding very well. He fared so well that he returned to assist financially two men from a Belemkoabga lineage who were in essence former patrons or masters, thus reversing customary roles. More recently this same man decided to change his family name on the tax rolls and gave Belemkoabga as his sondre. A relative of this same man has indicated his intention to change his name in the same way. A fellow Christian from a Belemkoabga lineage did not approve Of the latter at all. "If the Beghre people were no longer around", said he, "who would do the sacrificing to the ancestors for the chiefs?" In fact there are only 3 or k of them left who are neither Moslem nor Christian. The intended meaning Of the remark seemed to be that Beghre people were to "keep their place". But it is clear that as a social category they may be disappearing in Ténga. Market activities afford a particular means to forge new ties through trade. These are formed Often at the eXpense of Older, more customary relationships and structural solidarity. Two will be mentioned in order to suggest its role in the restructuring process of this period. The first concerns the Beghre man who became a kola nut trader. He owned 23h the only valid permit to sell kola nuts in the market, so all who sold in the market were, in the eyes Of the administration, his employees. Therefore, whether they were retailers, selling from his wholesale supply or strangers coming into the market with their own stock, they were obligated to pay him a fee. Ostensibly this was to spread the cost of a single permit among a large number of sellers. The alternative to paying a fee to this man would have been to buy a separate licence, not an attractive alternative. A similar monopoly was generated by the Yarse butchers. However, among their "employees" were a few Christians. A rule among these butchers provided that the Yarse (Moslems) kill one market day and the Christians kill the next. They all worked under one permit—~held by the Yarse. By 1970 the Christians were preparing to procure their own permit in order to kill when they wished. In 1970 the administration presented a revised constitution to the citizens of the country for its ratification and permitted the resumption of political campaigning by major parties in preparation of elections. Much of what was occurring was little understood by many in the field. On the other hand this development provided a means for a few to establish ties that can possibly provide meaningful support in the field. Alphonse and some of his faction became especially active, attending political rallies in the area. (None were held in Ténga.) He had strong support from two directions in the ARFE. A nearby rather important village chief with whom he was closely related was an outspoken partici- pant and backer Of one party collaborated with Alphonse. Second, many of those active again in politics in the area were erstwhile political 235 leaders from Koupela and thus more closely acquainted with Alphonse than with others in the village including the chief. The Chief, along with some older chiefs in the area, argued that they should not get into national politics; or if they did, that they should retain their solidarity as a single voting bloc. Greatly irritated at the conduct Of the chief-companion Of Alphonse and not be- ing that well-known among the political elite anyway, he stood little chance Of gaining from party politics at present. In various ways the nation entered the field and affected the structures within it. This entrance was generally through its district representatives. It was also accomplished through requiring that people Obtain certain critical documents as citizens. A birth certificate was necessary to enroll in school (although only one-third of those enrolled in 1969 had not procured theirs prior to immatriculating.) An identifi— cation card was necessary to enter urban centers or to travel out Of the country; therefore it affected those who left the local field. The above mentioned selling permits, the district market table tax, bicycle permits, and yearly head tax collections are some other ways which the administration has actively entered the field. Thus it has gained more direct command over material resources in the field. Its decisions have become more di- rectly binding on the personnel as well. Phase Five: The resolution p£_the process: (This process continues so this phase will not apply to this stage.) Phase Six: New resource distribution and structural alignments. (Although this stage has not been resolved in any marked way, the following is a brief assessment of the social structures in the field 236 as they appeared to be at the end Of this study.) Few resources attach now to the chiefship. The chief's formal ties with the Koupela Naaba and the district administration only occasionally lend much support to him. As the above indicates the district may work through the chief or ignore him. There is no recourse for the chief in the latter instance. In respect to the Koupela Naaba, a local member Of his lineage was embroiled in a marital diSpute in 1970. The matter was taken directly to Koupela and not discussed with the local chief at all. Nor did the Koupela Naaba apparently seek to refer the matter back to Téngé. " The election of the present chief was an extremely rare example of broad kinship ties uniting much of the village. It well could not occur today. Lineage ties which unite groups for most social action are extremely limited groups of agnates. As the above reveals, religious ties have brought about a major restructuring Of the village social order. Between Moslems and non-Mos- lems the cleavage has continued to deepen, especially. Sectors Of the market have in some cases provided important ties which have crosscut and muted ethnic, lineage and religious bonds Of solidarity. In a broader sense the money market continues to draw labor and agricultural products into its orbit, resources which were formerly controlled by indigenous structures and moving through channels of reciprocity and redistribution. We have seen the importance of information as a critical resource in the field. The presence of the school has not only shifted the control over children's labor from the lineage but it has drawn information and 237 ideas into the field that promises greater changes. The role Of the school is of course related to the economic and political evolution Of the entire nation. The national government through its various agencies, services, as well as prestations upon the populace has become a vital force in the field. Against the repertory of resources which its agents represent, no indigenous structure can effectively compete. The role of party politics was not significant in the field. Where it has entered, one could see, at least initially, that certain actors recognized party affiliation as a new means of support. Such represents one Of those cases where the relative difference of information across the field can make a critical difference in the mobilization process. It is too early to see what cleavages will be exacerbated by the role of national politics locally or which ones will be muted to a rather latent status because of this new means Of rstructuring social ties in the field. CHAPTER NIN CONCLUSIONS The foregoing has been presented in an effort to satisfy two funda- mental aims mentioned in the introductory chapter. First, I have sought to present those dominant persons, relationships, events, social struc- tures and processes which appeared most significant in a particular Mossi village over nearly one hundred years to 1970. While such an historical account can justifiably constitute an end in itself, that has' not been the intention in this particular study. My second and primary aim has been to view these empirical facts within a particular frame Of reference, the social phase development methodology, in a search to pro- duce more fruitful Observations. While I have sought to deal with the question of social dynamics on the village level among the Mossi, the Ob- ject has been to suggest the utility of this method in other contexts as well. The study has dealt with both structure and process, with variables which exemplify stability and continuity as well as those which reveal adaptation and evolution. Phenomena and events examined were sometimes associated with enduring stable structures, but they were just as often aspects of more unstable incipient or declining ones. Emphasis has been placed on "socially shared goals", “resources", and "supports" as a means Of following the social and cultural process. Purposely avoiding the limitations imposed by a particular type Of structural study (e.g. political, 238 239 economic, ritual); I have viewed action as directly toward the achievement Of a posited goal. We have noted how that the relative command over particular resources in a given set Of events has shifted stage by stage. The evolving support structure has been observed and followed as it has been implemented step by step. Although it has been necessary to employ structural designations, I have sought not to present the material as it is Often viewed in an indigenous/non-indigenous dichotomy. Terms such as "traditional" and "modern“ were generally avoided also, in an effort not to prejudge the data as well as to reflect more accurately the thinking of the partici- pants. The chiefship--and those most intimately associated with it-—was emphasized. This was simply due to the fact that political leaders al- most by definition have privileged access to many more strategic resources found within a given field. They can most Often transform these resources into positive supports in order to maximize their position in subsequent social situations, particularly political contests. The succession to the chiefship was by no means accomplished through one set of unambiguous rules in all conditions we have found. A constant which was found in every instance provided that any candidate should be at least a putative lineal descendant of some Koupela Naaba. Most of the local people were ostensibly descendants of an earlier chief, Belemkoabga; the imposed chiefs were of course closely tied to the present Koupela Naaba. The present chief, however, satisfied more than this minimal condition. He is a son of the local "founding fathers" and is also a lineal descendant in the family of a former chief (Piiga). He had 2&0 effective ties with the Koupela Naaba as well. They were affines. They were distant lineal kin. Antoine's family had given Naaba Zéare some female wards. These were positive supports for an aSpirant to the office. There were yet other variables, however, that operated in a most de- cisive manner. First, the relative closeness Of the lineal tie to the superior chief was the critical difference when Kugri and Kiba were placed into the chiefship by Naaba Zdare. Second, the effectiveness of a minister-intermediary working on behalf of a particular candidate seems important with Yaogo, Piiga and with the present chief. Third, conditions in another contemporary field affected one outcome when Kugri failed to gain the Koupela chiefship and had to settle for that at Ténga. The abil- ity to Offer gifts and thus to create social obligations was noted in the case Of Piiga and Of the present chief. Finally, the ability to take advantage Of conditions created by the administration as in the case of the election proved important and promises to be even more important in the future. The mobilization and manipulation of local support was of course a significant aspect Of the processes involved, yet we have been faced throughout this period with the dominating influence of Koupela in the naming of chiefs and the direction of local affairs. This was accomplished directly but more Often through its appointee, the local chief. Even in the 196A election we find the Koupela Naaba exercising a dominant influence. He was the one who in fact appointed or ratified the successful candidate before the election or the formal granting Of authority by the national administration. Somewhat the obverse of this was the institutionalized secondary position Of local lineage elders 2hl in the appointment process. They lobbied and protested occasionally and were often angered by the turn of events. The monopoly Of command over resources, and consequently greater material, cultural and social support by a superior chiefship meant the imposition of conditions conducive to the perpetuation of the dominant structure. In this case it was the Koupela court. We see that in the relation of Ténga and Koupela, whereas the chiefship may be a principal goal in the former field, it may be a pawn or resource, manipulated by actors in the latter field for specific goals there. The case of Kugri's appointment illustrates this. At various points the Koupela Naaba consulted local elders. These consultations were qualitatively different at different points in time, however. When Kugri and Kiba were appointed, the consultation seems to have been little more than a formality (although the subsequent behavior Of these chiefs toward the local lineage elders seems to indicate pppip_ desire for any local legitimacy which they could muster.) At the time Of the election in 196h, however, it seems clear that consultations with local elders constituted a more genuine effort on the part of Koupela to gain or retain influence in Ténga through a legitimacy based on common values and broad expectations shared between all leaders. Due to the general evolution of the country such as the establishment Of central national government and the erosion of chiefly prerogatives and power, the changing patterns of production and distribution and the alternation of conceptual systems, Naaba Zéare's resource base as a superior chief was drastically reduced. As a result we see him turning more to the governed for thier voluntary support. From the early twentieth century onward in addition to local bases 2A2 of support and that of the Koupela court, we see the development Of a third base, that of the colonial--and later, the national--administration. When Piiga lost this, he was replaced. This was true in spite of the fact that there was no evidence that his removal was desired by either the local people or the Koupela Naaba. SO powerful (and rewarding to those who served it) was this base of support during colonial times that local populations were considerably oppressed and scattered with impunity by such a chief as Kugri. We saw that this powerful support could be exploited to gain additional labor for such a chief. Mossi traditions suggest that in other days such a chief could not have continued in power; that people would have left or appealed their case higher. As it was the Mossi hierarchy generally was brought into the colonial service, however involuntarily. It was not until more recent trends toward nationalism, self- determination, intellectural enlightenment and increased knowledge and participation in the market economy that the above third base of positive support became an explicitly negative one in some circumstances. In the ARFE the educated African elite gained command in the national field at the expense of the colonial power. This command in many places (e.g. institutionalized use of force, courts of appeal, taxation) had long before been usurped from the most powerful Mossi chiefs or kings. The chiefs were in the unenviable position of being quite dependant upon the support of the very regime that had usurped command over the above men- tioned resources. The national leaders, as nationalistic Africans, took over the government. In so doing, all of these resources (expressed as powers) came under their command. They, on the other hand, did not 2&3 necessarily assume any Obligations to perpetuate the chiefship as the colonial government had, at least by implication, among the Mossi. On the local level, agents of the government, we Observed, Operated to settle certain disputes, to allocate land on occasion, and to exercise control over the time and thus the labor of many children who attended school. The district Office is an important fact Of life where taxes are paid, documents are procured and serious disputes settled. Thus at every level the national administration was placed in competition at various stages against the chiefs for resources which could be turned to positive support. The procurement of local legitmacy is now diffi- cult to gain or maintain. Antoine's illusions were soon dispelled when he unfortunately took this for granted. In fact the support within the village——for all the talk of inform- ants--has rarely if ever been the critical base of support. First, it was the Koupela court; then the colonial government (often but not always through the Koupela Naaba) and finally the district Office of the national government under the commandant who have been the agents whose decisions were Of paramount importance locally. Thus pppip_support was through time the most important. Some very basic variables impinged upon the local chiefship. Change in these affected it profoundly. The degree Of command over labor was one. Customarily chiefs enjoyed some rights over the labor of villagers. Labor at some prior time as well as tribute and gifts assured an ample supply of beer and/or food so the transaction entailed some reciprocity. The colonial government took some of this labor but provided the means Of marshalling more by added coercive sanctions of which a chief could take 2hh advantage. Increased migration to the lower coast as well as demands for paid labor nearby reduced this resource further. Lineage leaders which furnished intermediate or indirect support to the chief's rights to the labor of their kinsmen were able to exercise less control over the latter. Thus, they were less effective as instruments for turning this labor to a chief. The political crises of Téngé did little to help this situation between lineages and chiefs. Of interest in this regard, however, is the fact that a large turn- out Of almost 150 people came to the "chief's cultivation" (naab koobo) in 1970. It is true that many were kinsmen from other towns; it was also known that he had successfully arranged for a sufficient supply of d§§m_ somehow. Yet it would appear that the concept of the pggp_(chiefship) itself is still sufficiently culturally meaningful that such a yearly event can still pull in considerable labor. Thus, though this resource supporting the chiefship has been reduced drastically, it survives to some measure.2 This was less true when the chief sought laborers in a less institutionalized way, for assistance with his cotton cultivation or with brick making for a house. Here the response proved almost nil except for very near kinsmen. Within the local field we have noted that the variable of command over labor was in part related to the development of non-indigenous structures. Some labor was sold to the administrative projects as the construction of the local causeway. Some was turned to the construction of the school and residences of the teachers. However, a most significant Shift Of labor in the form Of communal hoeing has turned into a positive Stuxport of religious structures, Moslem and Christian. This is especially 215 true of Moslems. One eats and drinks when he cultivates and their Official abstinence from alcohol creates a degree of social pressure which separates them from customary Mossi and Christians in such activity. This is given additional support by affinal ties which tend to follow religious lines. Hoeing for an affine is Of course an acceptable Mossi value anyway. Besides the critical influence of command over labor, another vari- able associated with the chiefship was dispute settlement. Institutional- ized rights to adjudicate and enforce such decisions were important positive supports. Local disputes have been customarily settled 1) before kinsmen 2) before a quarter elder (which was probably an elder kinsman) and 3) before the village chief and his councillors, the elders of the village. The latter was especially important in matters pertaining to inter-lineage and inter-ethnic disputes. We note that the response to alleged unfair treatment at the hands of Kugri was either submission or escape to another district or possibly to another colonial territory. No alternate recourse was available. For cases involving disputes with persons outside the village, intermediaries, much time and appropriate gifts were necessary from plaintifs. This was further complicated as people were able to move about increasingly; dis- putes became more and more difficult to settle through indigenous means. As we move through time the superior coercive sanctions, and instruments and personnel execut them, came to reside in the hands Of the government--colonial and national. Although such courts were far from ideal their powers and perspective reached beyond local ones. Cases involving strangers such as Yarse and particularly Fulbe were taken to courts by these people. Disputes over women, too intractable for indig- enous courts with their limited powers, went to the district. Yet, locally 26 within the field there develOped other alternatives to institutionalized indigenous litigation. Courts are ultimately formal expressions Of cultural values. With the appearance Of alternate cultural values in the form Of Islam and Christian norms and rules Of conduct, there appeared new structural modes and foci of dispute settlement. The priest or catechist and the ip§p_give the "authoritative" Opinion in many trouble cases involving their adepts. These Often involve the kinds Of cases formerly heard by indigenous forums and courts. The school teachers settle disputes within the school. The agricul- tural agent brings disputants together in cases where animals have destroyed crops. Failing a settlement, he submits a report to the district court (and not to the local chief) for formal litigation. In one case involving a woman member of the Alphonse faction, it was noted that they took their case directly to the Koupela Naaba. They ignored the chief completely in the matter. When and if persons act in this manner the chief cannot impose sanction on them. It will be recalled that he has no formal statutory power either as an administrator or judge. With the erosion Of other indigenous supports as well, the present-day chief's role as adjudicant Of disputes is extremely limited. The chiefship has been customarily closely associated with certain ideological and ritual factors. The very term pg§p_implies not just formal, secular political authority but also mystical power, imparted when one receives the pggp_pipp, Just as the lineage organization is directly related to ancestral worship or veneration, the pggp is associ- ated with ancestral chiefs who have not lost their privileged status and who can thus affect the well-being of the village. Hence, Kugri had 2h7 sacrifices made to the founder of the village, and I heard local people imploring the ancestral spirit of this former imposed chief for assist- ance as well. The naam tibo, passed from one generation to the next, connecting the dead and the living rulers is allegedly a potent factor in legitimating ones claim to authority. The yearly ritual at the grave of the founder Of the village expresses the unity of the village. In the spring also Old Tendaogo offered sacrifices on behalf of the chief and the village not only to ancestral spirits but to the local earth shrines. The formal investiture of the chief as well as a few Of these calendrical rituals exemplify this relationship between the chiefship and ritual. It was noted that even though Naaba Zfiare neglected his indigenous investiture almost 30 years, he finally submitted to it. This suggests what has occurred: a liberalizing of rules, yet a certain consistency. It was noted that the imposed chiefs were not given the local p§§g_ pipp, Therefore, it was not as indispensable as the ideal asserts it to be, assuming other sufficient supports for an incumbent. Naaba Zdare's procrastination suggests the same. In contrast, the present chief re— ceived the naam tibo as the indigenous mode Of validating his right to the chiefship. (It must be noted, however, that this support did relatively little to compensate for the lack of more critical supports within the field and particularly in the ARFE enjoyed by earlier chiefs.) With the coming of Christianity and Islam certain contradictions were encountered in ideology and ritual practice.. The Moslems seem generally to be less compromising in this respect and as a result there are relatively few Moslem chiefs among the Mossi. Turning to the 2A8 immediate situation, we encountered the phenomenon of a Christian chief within the village. Since Catholicism is the local eXpression Of Christianity, prayer to the dead is acknowledged without question. A local catechist indicated further that one cannot divide the dead between Christian and non—Christian. "Only God can do this", he asserted. There- fore, intercession with the dead is still a correct and necessary aspect Of life, for the Christian chief (and for others Of that persuasion).3 The problem is the manner and place Of communicating with them. Christ- ians are not to offer sacrifices to ancestral spirits so they—-the chief included-~give the animal or fowl to an elder who continues to observe the customary rituals. They are not to offer at graves, so Offerings are made elsewhere. During the secondary funeral (actually the primary one culturally, following the interment) held by several families with Christian and Moslem members, there are active participation Of these latter in most activities. Thus, while there have been some formal changes, beliefs and ritual remain much intact even when a chief is formally a Christian. The secularization of life has generally resulted in somewhat less concern with mystical beliefs. Other more intellectually satisfying solutions have been found and may be responsible for a kind of public reaction to the sacred aspects of the chiefship. Less dependence upon the chief seems to carry with it less concern for the negative mystical sanctions which such a one could once have invoked. The relative aloof- ness of strict Moslems attests to this. Finally we may note the relation of the chiefship to what one may term "modern" institutions: the school, the l96h election, and party 2kg politics. Each Of these became an aspect of the local field and each has had some effect or stands to have some influence on the chiefship. It was noted that the building of a school served as a focus of competition between the Antoine and Alphonse faction, first over the location Of the school, then over the procurement Of wage labor in the building program. A school has become in recent decades a prestige item for a village. But it is seen also generally as a means whereby a vill- age child may procure education which will provide employment, which in turn will ultimately assure material assistance to his kinsmen. Given the prevailing norms, a chief does not exercise any direct command over either the teacher or the pupils. The teacher, rather, is a resource to be marshalled by the chief (and others) insofar as possible. {e has important ties in the ARFE and is fluent in the national language and thus has considerable utilitarian value to the chief and to the village. He controls the recruitment (though not entirely, since committee works with him on enrollment day) and the later retention or rejection of pupils. In Ténga the personal animosity between Alphonse and the head teacher plus their divergent political orientations proved to be positive supports in respect to the chief's efforts to gain the general support of the main teacher. The school is yet too recent a factor in the village to measure the direct effect of its students on such indigenous institu- tions as the chiefship. The effect of national political parties has been minimal in Téngé. Few politicians have visited the village. Few visitors from Ténga attend- ed nearby political rallies. The rather "anti-chief" stance Of political leaders has been Offset somewhat by the effort Of some to solicit the 250 active support Of local chiefs. The chief Of Ténga along with some elders regard free elctions with an anxious eye; the whole "independence" syndrome smacks too much Of disrespect for customary authority. Little is clearly understood about national issues or the processes involved. Yet local people, and the chief in particular understand that power exists in various places in the ARFE. For them civilian government and party politics are not clearly differentiated. Both command vast re- sources, it is felt locally. Thus leaders of each are to be feared and yet sought after for the sake of the power they are thought to wield. Only Alphonse and a few of his group seem to have the audacity or the necessary acquaintances to entertain hope of marshalling such resources in some future field situation, however. Turning to the local election in l96h, it would appear at first sight that the "modern" elective process would be regarded favorably at least by the present victors and thus possibly legitimate further such actions Of the national government. However, we have seen that the actual choice of candidate was made by indigenous means, involving indigenous leaders operating by indigenous rules prior to the formal election in the presence Of the commandant. Thus, every effort was made to bring it within the scope and dominance of Mossi institutions. Yet we may note some implications from outside the field. The election was a creation Of the administration, so the winner Of the contest clearly stands in Obligation to it (in addition to his political debt to the Koupela Naaba). The provision for completely free elections meant, theoretically, that any person--even a non-Mossi-—could be elected. Presently this is most unlikely due to the internal bonds of solidarity 251 between all Mossi there. However, it points to the future development of factional politics (now expressed in kinship affiliation generally) which need not be related to chiefly families and lineages at all. It implied what had been proven before, that where government could accord support, it could just as quickly withdraw it and remove a chief. Finally, where- as the process was generally regarded as the proper concern Of lineage elders and chiefs, the present structuring nature of the village suggests that in the future economic or religious leaders may just as easily pro- vide the clandestine groundwork for a successful election as they mar- shall essentially the same resources under the same formal administrative rules. We see that in each Of the three instances where these "modern” institutions entered the field, they were given particular local meanings and manipulated in terms Of these meanings and values and the goals which dominant actors were seeking i2 pp; figld, That is, they were not always regarded necessarily as national leaders-~and surely many Westerners-—re- gard them. Further, we see that newer institutions are fitted into indigenous cultural and social molds insofar as the two can accommodate themselves without too much violence done to either. On the other hand we note the further implications which the goal-seekers probably may not always perceive. The ultimate influence of education, genuinely free elections, and national party politics which may use or abuse the institution Of the chiefship suggests a more profound assault on the chiefship than any "holding action" or accommodation to it can probably withstand. The mortality rate Of indigenous chiefdoms has been high in Africa generally. There is little to suggest a different situation in 252 the future. While the village chief does yet indeed function on a level where there is no administrative counterpart, we have noted other non- administrative, but also non-indigenous structures operating in dispute settlement here. In reference to the chiefship in the field, we have noted the "broker" role of the minister and the dynamics of the relationships which exist between this person and the village. It was a soldier- follower of the Samande Naaba who was given the chiefship first. It was later the Kamba Naaba who was able to procure the chiefship for Piiga. The limit Of such power is suggested by the relative silence Of this minister (never condemned by villagers) through the years when the relat- ives of the Koupela Naaba held the chiefship. When the opportunity came, however, the son of the former Kamba Naaba helped to work out an arrange- ment that was acceptable to both Koupela and Téngd. It is interesting to note that the same "broker" qualities show themselves in a slightly different field as this same minister acts in essentially the same capacity between the administration and the people of Ténga. This man exemplifies what is suggested regarding ministers of the past in Chapter Three: they were less chiefs or governors of provinces in the very static sense than opportunistic, though faithful servants of a paramount chief, caring for the affairs of both superior and inferior chiefs-—and for themselves! The "broker" role of similar persons Operating between indigenous and national structures should be the subject of further research, employing broader fields. As we follow the social process we find the development of religious communities which gradually gained control over an enlarging repertory Of 253 resources in the field and therefore achieved increasing support. These gains are realized at the expense of indigenous institutions of the chief- ship and lineage organization. Islam was represented first by Yarse with apparently no pretentions at orthodoxy, to say nothing of proselyting. Culturally they differed little from the Mossi and possibly had little alternative in earlier times when Mossi resistence to Islam was more militant (Skinner 1958:1102). The coming of the first ip§p_was an im- portant event as was the return to Ténga Of the second. Yet we note other circumstances which lent much to the development Of this structure. Migration and the need for a cultural idiom and a social identity beyond the village became increasingly important. Behind this was the increasing geographical mobility and the need and desire for wage labor and increased market activity. Thus most Mossi in Ténga who became Moslems, did so while away from home. This seems to be at variance with Skinner (1958:1108) somewhat who found that seasonal migration did not provide many new Moslem converts. Increasingly Moslem leadership was able to ignore indigenous norms and the authority of local chiefs as the support of the former was augmented. As was indicated in Chapter Eight, this did not find expression as arrogant rebellion. Rather, as the community developed, it became more orthodox. "Good" Moslems are not to drink alcoholic beverage; the social importance of Mossi d§§p_has already been shown. The Mossi must acknow- ledge their ancestors by sacrifice, libations and prayer. Moslems are forbidden to do this and have their own ritual prayers for rites of passage, critical calendrical periods (e.g. planting and harvesting) and for particular human crises. Though Moslems and customary Mossi are polygynous, the proscription from inheriting a father's wife is socially 25h disruptive in terms Of the Mossi care for the aged. Pork and dog meat are forbidden by Moslems. Even "clean" meat is not to be eaten if killed by a non-Moslem. They tend to react unfavorably to formal edu- cation; the stricter Ones do not send their children to school. Burials Of the faithful are to be executed by fellow-Moslems only. The customary Mossi kp£g_is replaced by a series Of Moslem ritual prayers following the interment. These boundary phenomena, therefore, when adhered to by the more faithful, have tended to produce an increasing cleavage between them and the rest of the village. This rigid stand is much diluted by accommodation to lossi norms among many Mossi Moslems and some Yarse. A little d§§p_is drunk by some and it if often prepared by one's wife for non-Moslem guest cultivators. Non-Moslem elders sacrifice, pray to ancestors and consult diviners for many of their Moslem kinsmen. Non- ioslems assist with burials. Such behavior attenuates the degree of cleavage demanded by the more orthodox members, generally Yarse. The Christian community has developed through the same time period and in response to some of the same conditions. As indicated earlier, however, the boundary phenomena do not appear to create the social dis- tance that we find between Moslems and customary Mossi. Christians may drink d§§p_(and are in fact among the principal brewers). There are few dietary restrictions which differentiate them from other Mossi. Although they are not to sacrifice and pray to ancestors, they participate in burial rituals and generally eat sacrificed meat. Like Moslems, they may place an animal or fowl in the hand Of a non-Christian elder to sacrifice for them. Polygyny is forbidden, although information indicates that some extra- marital sexual arrangements are rather assumed as necessary to a man's 255 well-being, particularly while one's wife is pregnant or is nursing a child. The tendency of members of both religions to marry within their reSpective groups acts further to integrate them and to increase cleavages betwen groups. Both seek wives from customary Mossi. This works to re— duce further the numbers of the latter although it does act to create bonds Of obligation between them. Given the cultural importance of cat— ing and drinking, the orthodox Moslems tend to be separated from the rest of the population more than the Christians. It is evident that the cleav- age -making phenomena has been introduced and emphasized gradually in correspondence with other factors: the increased structural support and the erosion of support from the indigenous structures. In reference to these religious structures two points may be added. First, the initial commitment to non-indigenous religious ties generally constituted a "simplex" relationship which altered one's commitment very little to indigenous institutions. These latter of course are well integrated into his personality and remain important in social intercourse. Allegience to indigenous structures, norms, meanings, therefore, were altered little in most areas of life at first. One primary reason seems to be that relatively little Of a contradictory nature was initially taught or learned or at least practiced by members of the religious group. The second point is that relatively £2! boundary phenomena separated kinsmen and neighbors in most social activities. Only as non-indigenous structures gained in personnel and other resources did the relationships become more diffuse or "multiplex” and the social cleavages become more pronounced. (This hardly applies at all however to some who remain on the 256 periphery of the group.) We see therefore the quality Of diffuseness increasingly tending to characterize the relationships Of groups such as strict Moslems who worshipped, married and Often worked and ate together. This was by no means, however, quite the same kind of homogeneity encoun- tered formerly in regard to indigenous structures. The very presence of a hetero—cultural milieu and the essential requirement to take part in market economics, in national government (and in party politics to some degree through elections) in schools and in agricultural programs——all reflect what seems to be an irreversible evolutionary trend in spite Of this aspect Of similarity. The place Of the ex-slaves, the Beghre lineages, hold an interesting place in the social process. Slaves were part of the original entourage Of the founder. Others came with Yaogo when he assumed command in the last century. All were formally freed as the colonial power was extended. Slaves are essentially kinless people so it was probably to the advantage of these local ex-slaves to remain among friends when they were freed. These latter, however, were erstwhile masters. Certain attitudes and expectations relative to a slave's status and function have remained to varying measure. We found, however, that new rules and conditions intro- duced into the field proved critical as resources for certain Beghre individuals. The coming of Islam and Christianity provided a means Of being received in a social structure on more equal terms. This in turn provided means Of marrying co~re1igionists. One Beghre we noted became a successful trader (through his Moslem mother's brother). It was he who finally decided to change his sondre to that of the local chiefly lineage, thus abandonning this symbolic designation Of servitude. 257 Christians in the Beghre lineages became aware Of their rights under law. One defied a Belemkoabga lineage elder who unsuccessfully tried to take back some land lent to his father. (One does not generally seek to remove an equal under such circumstances without some serious provocation.) Another took advantage of the new rice land plowed and allocated by the administration. The new rules and the social ties based primarily on non—indigenous principles have provided a liberating influence for these people over time. Turning now to the method Of Observation espoused here, we note a number Of positive features. While "structure“ assumes some degree of contemporaneity, the diachronic dimension has proven quite fruitful in illuminating the fuller meaning of an event, a status, a structure, or a normative rule. A synchronic statement on structure at time A can, and probably will, be challenged to some degree in time B. We have seen a status or structure becomequalitatively something else; or at least it is not gpipg_the same thing in relation to its context. Thus, over time the boundary phenomena and cultural content Of the chiefship, of the village, of a quarter, of a lineage, of a Moslem or a Christian community changed even though labels remained the same. By the same token the meaning Of "chief", "a quarter", "an elder", "a Moslem" changed. We have seen that privileged information about new dimensions and meanings enter- ing the field are critical in a given social process and in its outcome for particular individuals and groups. The characteristics which set Off a Moslem or a Christian group, "educated persons" or the chiefship forty years ago would not serve adequately to set them apart today. The stage by stage, phase by phase Open-ended analysis brings these features out as most structural studies do not. 258 The diachronic approach points up the relative importance of social linkages at different times and in a different context. In the past Alphonse's close relationship with Naaba Zdare would have been of great importance (as indeed his father's was) while his ties to villagers would have been less important. In 196%, the year of the election, quite the Opposite was true and he lost to Antoine as the tables were turned. This view Of the relative value Of resources which can be utilized as positive supports through time was also illustrated by Naaba Zdare's rapport with the colonial administration which provided him the means to gain con- siderable renown and personal gain until the 1950's. These same factors became negative supports in the pre- and post-independence period. The above discussion regarding the time dimension is not intended to suggest that "all is process". It is intended, however, to suggest our need to understand more clearly what we are saying when we speak of social structure. Otherwise we tend to rify abstractions or extend them in an unwarranted manner and assign qualities which are not, nor may have never been, associated with a particular structure in the manner given. Errors of this sort have been avoided, it would seem, by the employment of this method of analysis. It requires that one constantly relate the re- source mobilization process with both goals and structural facts. "Supports" relate controlled resources with social structure also. Thus there is that constant interplay between the empirical and the abstract through time. What is true of structure in the above sense is true of the concept "function". After one has ascertained the relevant structures and statuses and accurately assessed their qualities and relationship to each other through time, then one can speak of "function" more accurately and --‘ m“ ‘ ‘-¢-—-'—~m 259 intelligently. In a sense a statement about "support" is a functional statement itself, though Of extremely limited dimensions. The tendency here to avoid functional statements where possible was to avoid falsely assuming knowledge Of the qualities of a structure or "system" before our empirical examination of the field. As we Observe the competition over the office of chief through several decades we note the concomitant evolution in the Office itself. The structuralist position has been to view the replacement of the incumbent and the transformation of the structure as very distinct pro- cesses of different orders (Gluckman 1963: 9, l2; Fortes and Evans- Pritchard 19b0:l3). Yet, here we have seen both the removal and replace- ment of chiefs §§_g§ll_§§_a constant erosion Of powers and support which inheres in the Office in single processes. To. suggest that we are talking today about the same chiefship that Yaogo or even Kugri held would be to ignore a wealth of evidence to the contrary. As I suggest in Chapter Two, ppg_structure-versus-the-incumbent (content) kind of dichotomy may obscure the fact that structure is in fact a multi-levelled abstraction. The social phase development method has provided us the means to see this more clearly. As the historical anecdotal content has been reviewed, we have also been able to abstract the evolution of social structure as well. This latter has been noted at broad as limited foci of organization. The concept "socially shared goals" provided a common focus for action in the analysis of the field. "Structures" we must not forget are abstractions, and abstractions do not act. They do not even direct action until they are perceived and become thereby aspects Of purposive goal seeking. Thus the chiefship "caused" nothing; the candidates and incum- bents to the office through purposive action did. It was such goal seeking 260 that led us further in the analysis of each stage and into the discovery Of the qualities of structures. While the concept "goal" possesses sub- jective qualities, its utility in this method and in the particular study is not diminished because Of this since it is used merely to provide direction for action and focus for analysis in the field. As I have pointed out in Chapter Two, the employment of "goal" is related to the fundamental aim associated with "competence theory" used to describe adequate grammar which can generate structurally acceptable sentences in a particular language. In contrast a "performance theory" would ostensibly seek to explain internal psychological states involved in the production of grammatical and semantically acceptable utterances. "Goals" hopefully direct us to "competent" explanation Of structural configurations in the field. To suggest that such posited goals pretend to be some kind Of pgrformance theory involved with complex psychological states in the above sense is to misrepresent my intent in utilizing this concept. The goal of controlling public decision-making was shared by various leaders in the field. This Observation led us to the subsequent steps in the social phase development. Ultimately it directed our attention to shifting support structures and to the evolution Of diverse and complex social structures which were found in the field in Téngé. Goals changed through time somewhat (although I dealt with very similar ones in this study). The actual persons sharing them were not the same through time, as the presence Of several different types of leaders moving into the field attested. We have seen that by using the concepts "field" and "socially shared goal‘z that we were able to deal simultaneously with diverse statuses and 261 structures: chiefs, the chiefship, the district and national admini- stration, the school and its teachers, religious leaders and market alliances. A "goal" was regarded here as a rather ultimate social end sought after not only by chiefs but by leaders of other social structures as well. All sought to control the goods, actions and commitment of persons to some degree and to gain control over the decision-making process in respect to some segment or all of the public in the field. The principal imam was able not only to make binding decisions relative to Moslems, but he was g; fagtg_head of his quarter, according to several informants. (Though formally this is not to be the case at all.) In some respects it seemed to be equally so with regard to the more elderly imgm in his quarter. Thus we encounter possibly "original" as well as "derived" goals as the social process evolved. The use of the concept "field" obviated any necessity to clearly define village boundaries. The open—ended time factor discussed above and this loosely delineated area of social activity has permitted us after examination 9£_several processes to make valid statements about various structures which were found to exist. It permitted our dealing with political data without imposing some European definition of a "politi- cal system" upon them, particularly in a_priori fashion. The field, though incidentally geographically delineated to some degree was really a field in which dynamic relationships were focused on a goal, and into which resources were drawn and where they were manipulated. The concept "resource" was sufficiently broad in scope and application to afford its utilization in dealing with diverse events, structures and statuses in the field. We have been able to observe resources marshalled 262 as positive supports which in turn contributed to structural change. An example of one such resource was labor. Earlier chiefs and lineage elders enjoyed privileged rights to it. These rights were an aspect of a broader network of ties linking persons to the chief and to lineage elders. Then the colonial administration usurped these rights to some degree. As geographic mobility became possible and even necessary, this resource was first taken by the government in the form of corvée. Later 1:”. 4 mil". -1 it was sold on the market in the lower coast by individuals who migrated yearly. With the introduction and develOpment of religious congregations this resource came under the command of religious leaders locally to some degree. At last it was expended to large degree on the fields of fellow- Moslems and fellow-Christians. An "implemented resource" in all the above cases became a positive support in the ongoing structural development. Conversely,the loss of control over a resource meant a loss of potential support. This meant in turn what may be termed the “erosion" of the dimensions and social significance of a given structure. This is precisely what we saw in respect to the chiefship. The mere existence of potential resources does not transform them into supports automatically we found. The perception and intelligent appreciation of certain goals and the conditions necessary to achieve them plus the factor of purposive behavior becomes critical also. Not all Moslem traders achieved such an advantage in the market as the kola nut seller. Alphonse had important ties with the Koupela Naaba and with several politicians in the ARFE, yet we see no support from any of them in his effort to get the chiefship. be ac .sIv 263 The ARFE provided the necessary means to conceptualize the rather vague and unstructured environment around the field. The most significant institution in the ARFE throughout the complete time period appeared to be the Koupela court. The district representative of the national government, the Catholic Mission and the large wholesale market at Pwi- tenga were examples of additional structures in the ARFE. Ouagadougou was the locus for some aspects of the ARFE. The national government, however, operated through local representative as school teachers and the agricultural agent. These latter as well as visiting officials (for vaccination, meat inSpection, taxation and the like) gained either positive or negative support for their government agency and for the government generally, depending upon their performance. This incidentally, illustrates the difference between direct and indirect support. The pe0p1e accorded direct support to these representative but in so doing they gave indirect support to the government which they represented. The actors who achieved dominance in the field were generally those who were able to affect the most advantageous ties in the ARFE and to manipulate them effectively locally. This was true of both political and religious leaders. It was to some measure true in the case of the kola nut merchant. This was due to structural ties which such key actors had in the ARFE. Kugri was a close relative of the Koupela Naaba; the kola nut merchant was a fellow-Moslem to his supplier; local Christians were related formally to those missionaries who assisted them materially and with administrative matters. As patterns of dominance change in the ARFE (as a result of realloca- tion of resources and the support structure in other fields of course), 26h they tend to change in the local field also. Yet the latter changes may not be at the same rate or of a comparable range of magnitude. The ties between the colonial administration and the Koupela Naaba did not change appreciably during the crisis surrounding Naaba Piiga. On the other hand the removal of forced labor—-a vastly important event in the ARFE-—did not bring immediate broad changes in the relationship of Kugri and the people of Ténga. In concluding this section I offer five broad general conclusions derived from the study. First, societies do not "break down" in any absolute sense, but are ever becoming restructured. (Of course this includes the demise of particular elements which are selected out and their replacement with those of greater adaptive advantage in a given ecological context.) This restructuring process is directly related to the evolution of the command over resources from one person to another, from one social structure to another and thus the shift in support struc- tures. A hegemony by a certain person or by som institutionalized group will produce a more centralized kind of command or government. Conversely, where no single person or group or institution gains such a monopoly, a segmented, multi-centric situation will exist. This is essentially what exists within Ténga in respect to local decision making, in spite of the office of the chiefship. Second, meanings for society and substructures evolve as structures evolve; both are functions of existent facts and of the information re- sources which actors in the field come to perceive and to appropriate, generally at different rates across the field. Third, new roles (for persons and for social structures) may 26S contribute additional social support and provide additional means to gain command over field resources. In terms of social process new roles may themselves become resources. These contribute to further structural de— velopment in one direction or another. Where conflicts arise among roles due to inherent contradictions, we found that the simplification of boundary phenomena and selective compliance permit actors to retain a maximum of social ties and thus maximum support. Fourth, in the structuring process diffuse ties tend to be broken up and give way to more simplex ones. New social structures enger or develop in the field and draw partial commitment (economic or ideological) from participants. The obverse of this is at least a partial withdrawal of commitment to customary structures in which many relationships exist. Yet we find that as the process continues, a tendency develops in the other direction; simplex ties tend to develop into multiplex relations—-a rather new kind of diffuse relationship--between individuals, but around a new focus. This in turn enhances the structural integrity of the latter. Fifth, in the study we see the inadequacy of assuming a uni- functional role for a given structure in a social field. Labels imposed by the researcher such as "religious", "political" or "economic" (all of which are conspicuously absent in More) may easily midirect one's ob- servations and conclusions. Thus we see religious groups in this study taking over the "political" functions of legislating rules and enforcing them for sectors of the public. These groups to a varying measure act as a means of organizing production and exchange on occasion as well. The concept field and the method employed here have been particularly useful. in revealing this last conclusion. 266 Although this method has proven to be a fruitful research device, there are some legitimate questions raised regarding its utility and the usefulness of certain of the concepts which have been employed. While one gains some valuable insights as noted above, he is in- evitably dismayed by the wealth of admissible data, for any_datum may be significant. Yet the field worker simply cannot record everything. He is thus driven to write up certain events and to omit others. Reasons for neglecting economic variables are complex, yet gn§_reason was this factor or rather arbitrary choice. The criteria for choice is to some measure subjective and possibly ethnocentric. The objectivity that one is seeking eludes him to a measure due to his limitations before the mass of data. Such a wealth of material directs one's thought back to the perenniel problem of the ideal of a "holistic" approach in anthro— pology generally. We have aimed at dealing with all kinds of variables in some systematic fashion. But "all" is simply too much. While a method or theoretical system of thought may-—and often does--circumscribe data for the sake of "neat" but less than adequate resolutions, the utterly open-endedness of this method suggests remedy in the other direction. The designation, "socially-shared goal", is to some degree misleading. No one probably kggw§_what goal is uppermost in the mind of another. What I have done really is to abstract what seem to be primary goals shared by a few dominant dividuals and have thereafter posited what could be termed the primary field focus. It seems nonethe less to be superior to the centnal ego used in network analysis (Barnes 1968: 107-130) or of a structural analysis based on §_priori assumptions which lack empirical validation. In this study the focal event and conversation among the 267 actors in the field generally gave a rather good idea of what were the primary goals and therefore the main focus of the field action . Earlier in this section we confront the charge of assuming a knowledge of psy- chological states of actors which this method does not assume. The concept "resolution" became somewhat suspect as a useful tool. Many social processes, particularly those dealing with eXplicit' political contests produce striking turning points. Yet in many social situations, who can accurately state what indicates that a process is "terminated" in any definite and wide-ranging sense? To be sure, aspects of a process are being terminated all the time. But many aspects pro- ceed right ahead as if no change or culmination or other events had occurred. A political crisis may affect production and distribution and religious structures but little. Conversely, the withdrawal of forced labor--so significant territorially--did not profoundly change the political and economic ties immediately at least, between Kugri and the pe0p1e greatly. The question of "resolution" points up the open-ended quality--and problem-—with this method. When any and all variables are Objects of scrutiny, where does one "cast the net" in order to speak rather definitively about something? This question requires a better answer than this study provides. In order to have shown better the utility of the concept field, it might have been wiser to have chosen fields of different dimensions. One could have presented either more abstract or more specific goals depending upon the field. A more thorough study of the market would have constituted a smaller field within the larger field dealt with in this presentation. 268 We have found that a wealthy repertory of resources of a given struc- ture in principle has much to offer and will thus attract persons and other resources in a manner analogous to the superior gravitational pull of heavenly bodies which possess a greater mass. Yet in human society we note that a mere promise by a person who enjoys credibility may be more attractive to some actors in the field than vast material resources held by the competition. The calculating entrepreneur dealing with economic or political variables is often able to gain ultimate command over important resources by marshalling those whose future worth had not been so apparent to others in the field. This study does not give insights into this kind of situation unfortunately. Finally although the concept "resource" has proved fruitful, it may be that it is not sufficiently specific. Some resources surely were more significant than others. Yet no one class (e.g. economic, idealog- ical, sociological) can be proved empirically to be the key. The problem is much more complex. **§§**********§* There are a number of questions which follow from this research. One is the evident need to produce and test hypotheses regarding the characteristics of the ARFE as it relates to the field, particularly looking at the kind of structures which proved most critical to the evolution in the field. A second question that can be pursued further is the nature of the persistence of indigenous structural boundaries. It seems that certain matters are of greater import to the people themselves than they may 269 be to a researcher who is impressed by the relevance and weight of certain economic and political variables and who may be unable to appreciate the emic significance of certain other variables, say, particular symbolic representations. Or is the persistence due to a shift in meaning and social function in the adaptive process? Another engaging question concerns the two Moslem communities which were diverse in practice and in relations to the chiefs. From these we note that some cleavages, though quite pronounced, lead to rather harmonious symbiotic relationships with relative absence of overt conflict. Others create rather perenniel battlelines. This probably relates to the nature of boundary phenomena and the variable degrees of overlap in function and therefore competition for similar goals. This aspect of the study could stand further scrutiny. I have assumed (and history would seem to bear this out) that command over resources is ipso facto public power. And public power is generally used to further the particular goals of the group. Yet Moslems and Christians generally displayed little explicit desire to extend their power beyond their own adepts. The question may be asked if there are those structures which are uniquely "political" whose primary business and aims concerns public power versus other structures whose cultural values inhibit somehow the broader exercise of power which the command over resources suggests they in fact may have. Or is this "inhibition" merely the result of cross-cutting social ties which prevent a single-minded assumption of power or a broader scale? The absorption of strangers in indigenous society apparently satisfied important social and psychological needs. A further 270 examination of present-day Mossi society may produce interesting insights on "absorption" in more complex situations. While this study has been concerned with the diachronic or histor- ical view, it purports to be much more than that. One could of course easily abstract a simplified social history of the village of Ténga from this study. However, I would suggest that the converse be attempted; that this method be applied to historical accounts elsewhere in an 3....— effort to uncover processual regularities as one matches the shift in resources with the evolution of structural foci in a given social niche. A field of such limited dimensions as that presented herein is useful as an initial exploratory exercise in the search for the structuring process on a broader scale. It provided not only a fruit- ful means of examining empirically local-level structures but produced evidence of the nature and possible significance of structures in the ARFE as they affect the grass roots of society. From this one can move into larger, more complex fields and attack theoretical problems of a more abstract nature. Fig. 3 Women carrying grain from fields to temporary graneries in preparation for flailing and winnowing. 271 Fig. h Fig. 5 Winnowing grain. Flailing grain is a communal activity. mm AIME WSEQTJ’.‘ meILEHLNESYDAStA,E ‘Zf'..':."v:45.k:.:\'L13;-'«i L Fig. 6 New possibilities for better crops are advertised at a district fair. Fig. 8 Cotton thread from Upper Volta industrial looms. Fig. 9 Loading out local cotton for the world market. 27h Fig. 10 Pouring a libation to the local naam tibo. Fig. 11 Offering the yearly sacrifice to the founder of the village. Fig 12 A temporary house for the spirits of the deceased. Food is placed within for the spirits during the kure. Fig. 13 A sacrifice is offered at the door of the deceased at his kure. 276 Fig. 1h Fig. 15 Prayers at the close of the annual Moslem month of fasting. The redistribution of alms after a Moslem prayer (doaga). 277 Fig. 16 Court griots who chant the geneologies and exploits of Koupela chiefs. Fig. 17 Drumming to give the cadence to communal work. 278 .-'. 1‘ _ . ‘ o ' ,. ..“‘.:';‘l " "\ r . ‘- r. krmt‘ - . ,. ‘ .‘_".".“..'§_J~ ...Lf’.-. .‘ as“..- Fig. 18 Widow's head being shaved at the kure of her deceased husband before going to a younger kinsman. Fig. 19 Change is sometimes painful and Fraught with uncertainty. FOOTNOTES INTRODUCTION 1 However, among the best works on Mossi society and culture, present and past, may be those being written by a number of young scholars under the auspices of the Centre National dg_Recherches Scientifique of France and the Centre Voltaique dg_Recherches Scientifiques in Upper Volta. Some of those are on institutional life on the village level. Unfortunately, however, these are generally in unpublished manuscript form only. CHAPTER TWO 1 Actors of course depend on such, which may be termed a cognitive map to guide and to interpret behavior. The analyst seeks to restruct the actors' model as nearly as possible, though his model is at best what Chomsky (l965:hff) has termed a "competence" theory, not performance model or theory. The latter would of course accurately reflect the actual psychic processes of the actor. 2 This resource would be generally recognized as such by the actors, and particularly by the one(s) positively affected by it. This, however, need not be the case always. Some resources (and hence support) may be indirect and not fully appreciated at a given time by the actors in the field. Thus a political move to increase government assistance to agriculture might bring migrants into an area who would cast votes for the governmental representative who voted for the increase. CHAPTER THREE 1 Words like "boundary" or "border" can be misleading in this context since we are speaking of peOples whose territories are not always discrete from each other and those cultures are in many basic respects very similar. Georgraphical borders are vague as are the social boundaries often. 2 Naaba can be and is indeed translated chief very often. However, its meaning is much broader, conveying the more general idea of "One with authority to command", possibly a rather "natural" right to command 280 281 accorded by some divine or mystical process. Even the ministers of the naaba, some of which at least were classified as "slaves", are also called naaba, although an appropriate qualifier to designate their specific function or status is added. Note also the usage of the term completely outside the political sphere: tum naaba, a work boss (in the modern industrial context). Kabore interestingly translate the term naaba to mean"l'homme riche". (1966) This seems to suggest that in the Mossi eyes command over persons assumes command over material resources as well. This would appear to be in harmony with Mossi thought both in respect to lineage authority as well as explicit political authority outside of lineage as both types of authority involve rights over material resources. 3 There are exceptions, however. Kabore calls attention to a long-overdue point of clarification of conceptions in his comment on province and chef d§_province. "La notion de province est tres vague en pays Mossi... La province n'est pas une unité territoriale... L'unité provinciale est simplement fondée sur les rapports existants entre les chefs de canton et le ministre responsable". (Kabore 1966:30-31) h Nakomse is one of several such words which seem to be descriptive of a dynamic situation but which researchers have "frozen" into a structural category to a degree that essential qualities of the words are lost or obscured. This failure (of which I will probably also be guilty to some degree!) undoubtedly is related to our legitimate need and desire to generalize and categorize our experience into meaningful units. Ethno- graphers are unfortunately as human as the rest on this point. Hammond apparently failed to appreciate certain features in More and made a des- criptive compound word, bppyalenga (which refers to the lineage organi- zation at a relatively broad and inclusive level) into such a fixed category. For him it meant a "totemic patrisib, the largest unity in the lineage system" (Hammond 1966:109). He would be hard put to draw its boundaries. Pageard, on the other hand, has shown great perception and caution in respect to this problem as exemplified in his explanation of Mossi concepts as buudu and sondre (1969zh7, h9ff). 5 The names and the real nature of these indigenous peoples are subject to much debate. Pageard finds "Nioniose" (or Ninisi) in the south while the Dogon (kibsi) were in the north (1939:37). He notes another ethnic group the blacksmiths (saaba) were somehow intermixed as well. Izard feels that the term Y6ny605e is a general term for a number of indigenous people which the invaders found, and that they should not be regarded as designations for a single ethnic group. The reduplication feature he feels is an indicator of great time depth. (Reduplication is employed in More-~and in other African languages as well-oto give added emphasis.) In the north the origins of pre-conquest peoples seem to be better known: the Fulse (Kurumba) and the Dogon (Kibsi) to cite two examples (Izard l970:l9). My informants dis- agreed among themselves. Some claim that the Yényoose (as it is currently being written) were and are a distinct ethnic group; others told of people who took medicine (tiim) to become such a person. (They allegedly can 282 transform themselves into the wind and claim other supernatural powers.) In contrast to Pageard, I found evidence that both the Kiblisi (almost surely Kibsi) and Yanyoose both in the southwest around Koupela. In addition, informants spoke of Nabadamba (or Nabednamba), Séaba, and the present téngsoabandamba (Gigma) who apparently conquered all the others prior to the coming of the descendants of Wedraogo and Wubri. Since the Gigma people claim that they came from Tougouri, as I suggest elsewhere, one may wonder just how "indigenous" they are. 6 The term ku—rita has other meanings also. A child engendered by a man but who is born after the death of the latter may be termed a kgfrita. In some circumstances it seems that a descendent of a ku-rita is positionally the same zigygyxi§_as the descendants to the throne as the original kgfrita and a chief. Thus, they are not supposed to encounter each other either. This fact brought about the alleged death of a Boulsa Naaba who was innocent of a charge brought against him by the Mogho Naaba. The charge ¢ required that he appear before the latter. Although he was subsequently found innocent, his appearance before the Mogho Naaba broke the kpyrita chief avoidance rule. Therefore he was condemned to die for the latter fault. (Izard 1970:236; Skinner 196hz92) m1— i..._ 7 Another tradition states that the young man was actually the son of Wubri, but who was born after the death of his genitor. This gave him the title of fipfrita, according to this myth. His mother was given to Namende and she bore the child subsequently at Boulsa. 8 Unpublished manuscript by Monsieur Emile Damiba. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. CHAPTER FOUR l Izard writes, "...budu désigne une reunion de plusiers étres ou choses ayant un caractere commun...avec les sens particuliers de 'espéces', 'nation', 'famille'". (1970:l96) 2 The term saambiiga (pl. saambisse) may be extended to non-kinsmen in an honorific sense, giving deference to an older person which one is address- ing. Thus M saamba could be translated as "My elder one". Thus a karen- saamb is a teacher, or an elder who teaches one to read. (Karem is gener- ally translated as "read" or "to become a member of group"--Moslem or Christian--whose members read). 283 3 Sak kasma will be discussed further in the next chapter. h Skinner feels that in the case of "nobles" this may not be the case due to the competition for the naam and the necessity of legitimating one's rights to succession on the basis of membership in a "noble" lineage. 5 One local man recounted that it was only after he had fallen in love with his present wife and planned to marry her that they found that they had the same sondre. In the modern context this generally means the name of her father. Although they are Christians and sometimes claim not to be interested in such things, they found that the girl had "alighted upon" (sigi) an ancestor bearing a different sondre. They were relieved to be spared the embarrassment of writing down the same sondre (which now functions as the family name generally). 6 Though such men are young and single, I have heard a married man in a client-type relationship referred to as a dakore. Unfortunately, I was not able to establish the meaning of the last morpheme of the word, though I believe it means something like "man—cultivator". 7 The term biiga, in fact has a semantic domain that reaches beyond the cultural aspect of kinship. The fruit of a tree is its biiga. The offspring of an animal is its biiga. A laborer is the biiga of his boss. Interestingly, an automobile trailer is a mobili-biiga. Viewed in this larger sense, one sees the term more nearly representing a perception which we might conceptualize as "diminutive form of --", "subordiante form of--", or "person with a dependency relation in respect to the speaker or other referent". CHAPTER SIX 1 Population figures are extremely difficult to come by. Transfers of names of wives to the husband's tax roll may not occur at marriage. The flight of a wife or the pick-up of another (pgydikda) produces constant shifts in the population. The movement of children among kinsmen not only within the village but between villages is another factor to consider. Finally, these people, like people everywhere, do not like to pay taxes so persons are occasionally not reported. Most births take place in the village so no record of them is made until the family finds it necessary for other specific reasons. Certain beliefs relative to drawing attention to a baby (and thereby losing it) prevent recording some births at all. CHAPTER SEVEN 1 J. P. Lahuec, Personal communication 28h 2 One may possibly refer to the Koupela Naaba as "paramount". This seems justified in light of the other literature in Africa generally. Politi- cally, he has been relatively independent politically, although as the above indicated, he was lineally and ritually subordinate to Boulsa and to Ouagadougou. Casting about for an appropriate term fro the Koupela Naaba, Mangin used the designation, chef dg_ rovince (supposedly a province Boulsa, though he did not state this clearly). The problem of description lies in the fact that the Mossi seem to have seen their system of politi- cal ties less as fixed structural levels than foci of relative power which may wax or wane. Since within recent times at least the Koupela Naaba Fa more nearly approximates a dima (naaba answering to none) than a kombere (an explicitly subordinate naaba), I justify the use of the term "para- mount". 3 1 These sacred emblems are associated with the naam at all levels from a V village chief to the Mogho Naaba. h Though the term "chef de_province" may refer also to a level of command among the nanamse related to the Mogho Naaba in more distant areas that are relative independent. Thus Mangin refers to the Koupela Naaba as a "chef g2 province", but not at all in the sense that Skinner uses the term. 5 The fact that such men did not belong to the ruling lineage and were possibly of talga or even slave status did not mean that they were without political power. Skinner tells of hearing of an incident when a "district chief" in the 1920's called down such a minister-naaba of the Mogho Naaba for expressing displeasure at the performance of the former. He suggests that such would be regarded as effrontery against the mobility. (Skinner 196h¢70) While this may be so, my personal observation convinces me that this is not always the case. When ministers of the Koupela Naaba visited Ténga, they were invariably treated with considerable deference. More than once, I noted that the local naaba (a distant lineage member of the Koupela rulers) gave the Kamba Naaba a chair and then proceeded to sit on the ground at a lower level, conforming to Mossi ideas of superior— ity and inferiority in any given social situation. CHAPTER EIGHT 1 It should be pointed out, however, that the very existence of the phrase pidge naam ("to remove the chiefship!‘ Pidge is the verb associated with the“removal of garments".) suggests that it is conceivable and may indeed have occurred sometimes in spite of the formal proscription against it. This suggests that there may have existed a "rule to break rules" in some such cases even prior to the coming of the Europeans. 285 2 It is not entirely clear why this young man did not request the chiefship. He was never mentioned by the informants. The probable reason was that he did not want to be pitted against his father's brother without a better base of support than he could muster. With few relatives in the village and Zéare in favor of Kiba, any serious attempt to gain the chiefship would have been doomed. 3 While this may be correct, there is good reason to believe that no remark of this kind was actually made. Mossi generally would not make such a statement since it would be tantamount to a wish that another die. This is essentially a curse. It is possible that this is an assumption which people made after the fact and later read it into the events at that time. h The use of faction here does not wholly coincide with characteristics which have been used to describe this phenomenon (e.g. Nicholas 1966:53). An important basis of organization was founded upon lineage ties. However, in both the Alphonse and Antoine camps there were diverse sets of rules which operated to mobilize support. 5 One can only surmise the reason for this. They were not the custodians of local graves and shrines and thus not as bound to local ritual obligations as were the "old settlers". They had limited access to the chiefship and to European-based structures, of which the Church was seen as one. The demands on an initiate to Islam then, particularly as a migrant, were minimal in terms of change from indigenous beliefs and practices. On the other hand formal association with Moslems, many of whom had businesses in the lower coast, was highly advantageous economically. 6 The fights were not only a reflection of the attitudes of the people to- ward Alphonse, but more importantly, a reflection of their changing atti— tude toward the chiefship, here perhaps better stated with their term naam. The naam, it will be recalled is a symbol of both political and mystical power to hold dominance over others. Thus, not only was Alphonse losing legitimacy but with the revolution of ideology the chiefship itself could no longer elicit the kind of awe and respect it once did in Mossi culture. 7 One additional aspect to this incident is found with those who for whatever reasons do not cultivate their plots any more but claim ownership of them (at least to this researcher). One can only conjecture as to what future litigation problems will arise regarding the question of ultimate rights to these fields. 8 Ecoles Rurales were schools established to give some elementary education in French plus practical training in the manual arts, especially in modern 286 agricultural methods. They were intended for young men who had been de- prived of regular education. The administration, however, placed the responsibility for the construction of school buildings and residences of teachers on the local inhabitants. Generally, this meant that all work had to be voluntarily donated by interested individuals. This implied either or both of two variables: an enlightened majority in reference to the assumed values associated with the program and a leadership (in most cases the chief) that enjoyed considerable legitimacy in the local field and thus one who could effectively mobilize assistance. 9 None of these charges were either established or refuted. What is more important for our purposes here is to note the kinds of charges used which obviously had validity in the social field. The charge in respect to women seemed to be a rather standard explanation as a reason for de- feat which indicates, not that these individuals were better or worse than others, but that those who hold offices must be discreet in matters relating to the other sex. 10 The increased role of market activity and the entrance of party politics were of some significance undoubtedly. The research design was glaringly weak in its failure to deal more adequately with the former. The sup- pression of political party activities from 1966 to 1970 made it difficult to ascertain the real effect of newer political ideologies in the village prior to that time. CHAPTER NINE l I received a rather common response in the village when I would ask the nature of many such ties. I was invariably told that father's father of each man in question were sons of a common father. This latter was never named. The inconsistencies among informants has led me to assume that in many such cases the relationship is putative, though of course it may not be in every case that I so considered it. 2 Alphonse's cultivation is contrast drew about fifty people. This is a sizeable number, indicating his position of importance. The difference between this number and that which the chief drew I attribute to the chiefship concept in Mossi culture and to the institutionalized naab koobo--something which somehow cannot be ignored by the people. 3 I attended one sacrifical offering for a Moslem man whose child was ill, so I would assume at least part of the Moslems assume the efficacy of prayer to deceased ancestors. h Of course the "freeing process" may have been so gradual a matter that 287 they could not have been sure when they could leave with impunity. There is apparently a rather universal tendency for dg_facto freedom to lag behind dg_jure emancipation. GLOSSARY Ba (Baramba): father Babiiga (Babiise): father's child Baga (Bagba): diviner Beghre: designation of ex-slave lineages Belemkoabga: lineage designation for most of the "old settlers" in the village Buud Kasma: lineage head, elder Buudu: lineage, sort, kind Cercle: district Commandant Cercle: District Commandant Daam: fermented millet drink Déemba: affine Dima: paramount chief Dogem miki: Mossi custom Dogo (doto): house, room Kasengo: eldership Kasma: elder Kombere (Kombemba): chief between parmount and village chiefs Kuri: funeral ritual Laafi: well being More: language of the Mossi Naaba (Nanamse): chief, king, minister, person having authority 288 289 Naam: the chiefship, authority Naam tibo: sacred symbol of the chiefship Habiiga (Habiise): children of chief Hakomse (Wakombga): descendants of chief Saambiise (Saambiiga): collateral relative Saka (Sagse): quarter Sak' kasma: elder of a quarter Sambiidu: collaterality Soese: to praise, to honor Soéya (Soaaba): soul or spirit eaters, "witch" Sondre: (generally) a lineage designation Sonsoaaga: communal volunteer labor Soolem: chiefdom, any political territory Talga (talse): commoners Ténga: land, village Téngbiisi: indigenous people Téng kasma: eldest man in eldest lineage Téngsoaba (téngsoabandamba): earth priests Tiim: medicine, remedy, amulet Yaba (Yabramba): grandparent Yiire (Yiya): homestead Zaka (Zagse): compound, yard Zabyure (Zabyuya): fighting name 'l . . . .1.-\ d “up BIBLIOGRAPHY 290 BIBLIOGRAPHY Bailey, F G. 1957 Caste and the economic frontier. 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