This article considers the role of embodied experience in promoting revolutionary ideology in Guinea. The Republic of Guinea has long held close ties with China, and in the 1960s and 1970s the country pursued its own Cultural Revolution. While Chinese songs and aesthetics had little direct artistic influence, the Guinean state embraced Maoist ideals of social and self-transformation and discipline. Such ideals were translated into daily life through the regulation of bodies, including practices of dance, movement and physical gesture that sought to create revolutionary subjects. I show here how embodied practices, including the circulation of dancers and official delegations, cultivated Guinea's relationship with China; and how practices of movement and dance were inwardly experienced within Guinea during its own Cultural Revolution. In so doing, I address some of the contradictions of the Revolution and of Guinea–China relations. While the regime pursued its goals through violence and brutality, former revolutionary subjects today remember the moment for both its pain and its pleasures – for the hardships the body had to endure and for the nationalist pride that many still feel today.

As one of the primary personal sites of financial investment, expression and public performance, housing has stood at the centre of contemporary studies of class in Africa. This article adds to the existing literature on housing and class by exploring residents’ desires for formal housing in post-conflict Luanda, Angola. Luanda's residents increasingly believed that access to formal housing, not necessarily always legally but rather aesthetically defined, was a primary means of affirming middle-class status. By highlighting the links between class, urban formality and the state, the article argues that formal housing became a means for both the state and Luandans to produce middle-classness. Existing beliefs about comportment and urban aesthetics, which anchored subjective understandings of class in the house, intersected with a political economy in which the state played a central role in enabling access to new residences. As such, formality has become a key means through which middle-classness is transforming urban landscapes, opening up discussions about aesthetic belonging, financial stability and the role of the state in the making of Africa's middle classes.

This article explores the austere labour regime of Safaricom – Kenya's largest telecommunications firm and financial services provider – from the perspective of the women and men who work as ‘human ATMs’ for Safaricom's breakout service, M-Pesa. Far from women and men simply acting as ATMs, I argue that the affective and social labour of these people working at sites across the country constitutes a form of maintenance work that, while essentially free in Safaricom's accounts, critically underwrites the success of M-Pesa and Safaricom. In making this argument, I draw on the insights of feminist political theorist Nancy Fraser, who has pushed Marx's key insight that behind the sphere of exchange lies the ‘hidden abode’ of production. In contrast, Fraser argues that behind the ‘hidden abode’ of production lie domains more hidden still that constitute the ‘backstory’ of contemporary forms of accumulation. I argue that the work of ‘human ATMs’ constitutes both the ‘front story’ and the ‘backstory’ of contemporary modes of accumulation unfolding in Kenya. Their labour is formally exploited while broader forms of work required to build and maintain the social and material networks on which Safaricom depends are expropriated, forming the basis of new frontiers of accumulation. This process is mirrored in Safaricom's contemporary business strategy, which is premised on enclosing people's everyday habits and social networks in their digital forms as sites of innovation and market-making.

This article examines two closely related themes: the triangle of tradition, capital and the state; and resistance to neotraditional leadership and local activism for democracy. I investigate an uprising in the Topnaar Traditional Authority in the Erongo region of Namibia by young community activists who aimed to promote democracy in their community in a context of manifold accusations of self-enrichment and corruption against the neotraditional leadership. The article demonstrates that the corporatization of tradition is a double-edged sword: neotraditional leaders expand their local power towards their subjects in the short term, but it often produces severe conflict that may result in the delegitimization of neotraditional authority in the long run. However, the Topnaar youth uprising and quest for democracy was less about challenging neotraditional authority per se and more about replacing the incumbents as well as obtaining a fair share of political power. It resulted from the perception that the neotraditional-cum-corporate ventures no longer served the cause of a common good; this, in turn, contradicted the general ideal of equality among the Topnaar. The corporatization of tradition thus generated local grievances and stimulated demands for democratic participation. Since the uprising gained at least some of its momentum from my research on neotraditional authority, I also reflect on my role.

This article explores ‘imaginings’ around hepatitis B in Burkina Faso and their historical genealogies. Hepatitis B is a viral infection afflicting the liver, but asymptomatic carriers may fall ill decades after exposure to the virus. Drawing from ethnographic interviews, we analyse how people living with hepatitis B in Burkina Faso grapple with incertitude about the course of their infections, the possibilities for healing and their illness's influence on social relations by ‘imagining’: that is, diverging momentarily from narratives about their diagnostic and therapeutic pathways to imagine alternative pasts and future consequences of this illness. We investigate how those living with hepatitis B use these imaginings to grapple with absences – of a certain future, of knowledge and of care – the historical genealogies that give rise to these absences, and their longer-term consequences. These ephemeral imaginings emerge from an ‘entanglement’ of the virus, epidemiological incertitude about its course and absences within Burkina Faso's health system and global health policies, which are themselves the consequence of specific historical processes.

This article focuses on the impact of the policies of the ruling Zimbabwe African National Union – Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) government on Zimbabwe's black middle class. It does so by exploring three propositions emerging from the academic literature. The first is that during the early years of independence, the middle class transformed into a party-aligned bourgeoisie. The second is that, to the extent that the middle class has not left the country as a result of the economic plunge from the 1990s, it played a formative role in opposition to ZANU-PF and the political elite. The third is that, in the face of ZANU-PF's authoritarianism and economic hardship, the middle class has largely withdrawn from the political arena.

Severe ecological changes across the Sahel have created a difficult environment for agriculture and rural village economies. Rural communities, while small in scale, are creating new ways to transform their degraded environment. Their small size allows them to develop location-specific strategies to manage and improve water, soil and agriculture. This article focuses on two Sufi communities (daaras) in Senegal that integrate environmental work and spirituality. Religious organizations are influential in Senegal, as is the idea that labour is a part of both personal spirituality and shared religious teachings. As agriculture continues to be disrupted because of climate fluctuations, creating a habitable environment relies on applying region-specific agricultural science, and working through local structures. These conceptions of labour, along with the religious structures that support their work, make environmental projects spiritually significant, and also transformative for agriculture in a challenging environment.

This article argues that the politics of extraterritorial jurisdiction in the 1920s reshaped relations between ethnicity and territorial sovereignty in Ethiopia's eastern borderlands. A 1925 criminal trial involving Gadabursi Somalis began as what Britons deemed a ‘tribal matter’ to be settled through customary means, but became a struggle for Ethiopia's regent, Ras Tafari, to assert Ethiopia's territorial authority and imperial sovereignty. British claims of extraterritorial jurisdiction over Somalis amidst 1920s global geopolitical shifts disrupted existing practices of governance in Ethiopia's eastern borderlands and created a dilemma for Ethiopian authorities. In order to uphold international obligations, Ethiopian officials effectively had to revoke their sovereignty over some Somalis indigenous to Ethiopia. Yet Britons’ practical application of extraterritoriality to Somalis was predicated on assumed racial differences between Somalis and highland Ethiopians (‘Abyssinians’). Thus, Ethiopia's recognition of British extraterritorial jurisdiction would lend legitimacy to claims exempting Somalis from Ethiopian sovereignty due to differences in identity. The case reveals how assertions about race, nationality and ‘tribal’ identity articulated to subordinate Ethiopian rule to British interests and, in the longer term, to delegitimize Ethiopian governance over Somalis.

Tracing the persistence of community health workers (CHWs) as a key category in both global health policy and anthropological representation, this article asks how enduring scholarly investments in CHWs can reveal changing political stakes for both health work and ethnographic research. Amid renewed calls for a focus on health systems and universal health coverage, the article suggests that the durability of attention to CHWs is instructive. It simultaneously points to the imbrication of health with political and social relations and clinical and technological infrastructures as well as to how ethnographic investments in health systems can sometimes obscure the ambivalent politics of health. Drawing on fieldwork with CHWs, NGO staff and public health officials, and on public health literature on CHWs, it argues for greater attention to the political ambivalence of health labour. It suggests that the experiences of health workers themselves can serve as analytical examples in this regard, pointing to analyses that begin not with normative notions of health systems or the conceptual boundaries of global health ‘projects’ but with a focus on the contested relations through which health labour is realized over time. Such attention can also indicate possibilities for health beyond dreams of projects, clinics or health systems.

In Burkina Faso, political turmoil, escalating insecurity and a looming pandemic challenge the population's trust in the state. This article contributes to the debates about state–citizen relationships in fragile countries by connecting local health-seeking practices with the global trends of datafication and a strong focus on the fight against malaria in this part of Africa. Drawing on long-term research engagement in Burkina Faso, I examine the health-seeking practices of rural citizens and look into diagnostic routines and reporting in two rural dispensaries. I show how the routinization of diagnostic procedures combined with a strong national and global political focus on the fight against malaria create what I term a ‘supply–demand nexus’ in which rural citizens selectively ask for the health services that they know the system can supply. I argue that the routinized diagnostic practices that mainly focus on malaria serve as a ‘technology of invisibility’ by not capturing other important diseases among the rural population. Finally, I ask whether the limited healthcare services in the current context of political insecurity, instability and a global pandemic spur a process of further fragilization of the social contract between rural citizens and the state.

This article examines responses to the terrorist attack on the Westgate Shopping Centre in Nairobi in September 2013 in order to investigate the role played by blood donation, as an expression of national dreams, in the political imaginary of contemporary Kenya. It considers the symbolic effectiveness of calls for blood donation made by political figures in the aftermath of the attacks. Such calls drew on a tradition of donation drives begun in the early years of independence, which emphasized the modernizing imperative of the new state and the importance of unity, hard work and self-sacrifice in building the nation. However, the reaction to Westgate, including calls for blood donation, also needs to be understood with reference to the response of American and other leaders to equivalent terrorist attacks in more recent years. These elite dreams found resonance among ordinary citizens and blood donation recruiters. But they were also subjected to trenchant critiques that sought to expose the reality of the transfusion system, as well as the inequality and injustice that mark the general healthcare system and Kenyan society as a whole. These shortcomings were also highlighted by mobilization drives organized by Kenya's Somali and Asian communities both before and during the Westgate crisis. The latter are presented by their organizers as a means of overcoming historic exclusion and discrimination.

This article discusses the workings of civil society and its leaders in Niger. Tracing the country's historically sedimented socio-political order, it argues that Niger's civil society is characterized by a twofold embeddedness. Since the introduction of multiparty politics in 1990, the political game in Niger has been exemplified by co-optation, bribery and corruption. These spoils are a central focus for civil society leaders who have become experienced in the political game. Indeed, actors’ social embeddedness in networks of solidarity demands that they capture and redistribute the spoils they receive. At the same time, however, their social and political legitimacy as civil society leaders rests on their ability to avoid becoming entangled in the game, and to avoid accusations of ‘playing politics’. In other words, civil society activists are embedded in the same social and political structures as state bureaucrats and politicians. In this context, civil society activists cannot maintain the moral high ground they often claim to occupy.

Twenty years after the Mozambican war ended, a return to arms from 2013 by the opposition movement Renamo served to revitalize support for the party in the 2014 election, and put pressure on the Frelimo government to consider demands for constitutional change. Building on existing research on post-war politics and on recent economic change, this article addresses the question of how Renamo obtained civilians’ approval for renewed armed action in the south of Sofala province, the region where conflict broke out in 2013. I argue that popular legitimacy for Renamo's challenge to the state is constituted in a narrative about Renamo that is congruent both with present-day grievances against the state and with understandings of local history dating to the anticolonial struggle that challenge the nationalist history on which Frelimo hegemony rests. Renamo has adapted this narrative in such a way as to claim a historic role for itself in defending the interests of central and northern Mozambique and in struggling for an inclusive and democratic state. In this way, Renamo has gained support for its renewed armed actions, not only among those politicized by Renamo in the earlier war but more broadly among civilians in the region.

This article reflects on how scholars have engaged with the past and with notions of authority in the African Great Lakes. A dominant ‘presentist’ perspective on the region mobilizes historical knowledge in an uncritical fashion, reducing authority to a set of historical clichés and building on a familiar focus on crises and the state. Bridging history and political science, we propose two concepts to analyse histories of political authority to unsettle presentist biases: trajectories and transactions. To illustrate the contribution these alternative lenses make, we present two historical vignettes. First, we revisit the 1973 coup in Rwanda as an ambiguous trajectory of authority-making and unmaking. Then, we consider languages of praise and petitioning in Burundi in the 1960s, to show how authority is lived, manifested and challenged through local transactional relations.

As a precondition of belonging, professionalism is often a taken-for-granted feature of being middle-class. Yet ethnographic attention to experiences of work reveals that professional identity can be fragile. Drawing on ethnographic research among nurses in KwaZulu-Natal, this article traces the feelings of precarity about work and the ambivalence that pervades ideas of professionalism. This ambiguity arises partly out of a peculiarly South African story in which histories of professionalism are entwined with the repressive apartheid project of separate development. Many of the professionals working as teachers, nurses, lawyers and administrators today were trained in the former ‘homelands’. Practices of professionalism are entangled with those of clientelism inherited from this earlier period of homeland politics. These local histories combine with wider processes of neoliberalism, as conditions of austerity produce structural shifts towards casualization. The article traces these dynamics in the stories of two nurses and considers what may be at stake politically as middle-class trajectories are threatened. Moving away from a view of the middle classes as either democratic or anti-democratic, feelings of ambivalence about work make questions of political allegiance an ambiguous and fraught matter.

This article uses the accelerated saturation initiative (ASI) Soka Uncobe, which took place in the kingdom of eSwatini in 2011 and 2012, to comment on HIV humanitarian health interventions in Africa. Soka Uncobe, the first ASI on voluntary medical male circumcision, aimed to circumcise 80 per cent of all HIV-negative men aged fifteen to forty-nine years over a twelve-month period. Using written and verbal accounts, I draw attention to the dreams and hopes behind the design of the initiative. I also highlight the dynamics of the implementation of Soka Uncobe, and, in doing so, I chart the path to its ultimate failure by showing the reluctance of the implementation partners (based mainly in the global North) to take seriously what have now become well-known critiques of why humanitarian interventions fail. Ultimately, I suggest that, despite having the potential to produce some critical results, Soka Uncobe was no different from previous transnational humanitarian health interventions. Thus, an exposé of why it failed is pivotal to this article about the dreams that underpinned the first ever ASI related to medical male circumcision.

Èṣù of the Yorùbá tradition, the custodian of the primordial àṣẹ, embodies the principle of perspicacity and pragmatism that is crucial for the exercise of responsibility by sentient and thinking beings. As such, Èṣù demands the ultimate in consciousness as a basis for just living and for a just measure of reward or sanction. Èṣù calls for painstaking commitment to rigorously distilled information and keen consciousness as preconditions for action of any sort, especially for the exercise of judgement, a compelling gesture of the human will. Scholarly and/or zealous traditions have, however, persistently alienated Èṣù from his native Yorùbá cosmology. This article argues for a need for rehabilitation.

A generation of South Africa's new black middle class shuttles between the suburbs and the townships. This has become the focus of some South African humorous essayists, among them Ndumiso Ngcobo and Fred Khumalo, on whose works this article is based. The article argues that studying the new black middle class should extend to these literary sources and approaches. The humorous essays by these two authors consistently reference metaphors of mobility and the vexed intersection of black middle-classness, consumption, racialized residential zoning and compromised status. Through the mode of humour, the essays evince the psychological burdens borne by those with township roots but who live in the suburbs, as they negotiate status inconsistency in a post-apartheid search for human dignity. Constant visits to the township and the retreat to the suburbs constitute negotiations of spatial, financial and psychic concerns imbricated in the legacies of apartheid's racialized politics of distinction.