Yorùbá Identity and Power Politics (review)

Still, he often refers to modernity, nation and the Church as if the meaning, and largely positive valuation, of these terms were self-evident, to the Englishlanguage reader as well as the Gogo narrators and their intended audiences. But not every inhabitant of Ugogo would hear Kongola’s accounts in the same way as members of his own circle. For most people the promises of the new nation have not materialized; the region continues to suffer from a dire lack of opportunity. In the commercial capital Dar es Salaam, Gogo people are said to be numerous among beggars, itinerant coffee sellers and abattoir workers: marginal, desperate ways of life. Kongola himself details numerous setbacks in his pursuit of economic security in retirement. Against this background, Kongola’s narratives appear to this reader more assertive, political and partisan than Maddox explicates. How would a member of a marginal clan – how would a less favoured member of Kongola’s own clan – hear his accounts? How would a Muslim neighbour? And by means of what nuances, what turns of phrase may Kongola’s narrative implicitly address them? Even if unanswerable, these questions would be worth stating. Social stratification, privilege, regional inequality and religious diversity in Tanzania are issues too salient and important not to be part of Kongola’s universe. Kongola’s mention of Islam as an agent of change equal to Christianity is among a few points that suggest his awareness of them, despite Maddox’s focus on the Church and his inner circle. Maddox weaves into his analysis the dilemma of an oral historian who struggles to explain to people in Ugogo why he keeps coming back to a place many of them would rather leave. Without being fulsome, he makes clear that his reasons are not narrowly professional, but human; that he has gained from his work in Ugogo in more ways than he can explain to his hosts. This unaffected, tangible appreciation for his subject is a particular strength of the book.