Muslim women in Mombasa, 1890-1975 9780300023022

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
List of Tables and Maps (page vii)
Acknowledgments (page ix)
Swahili Glossary (page xi)
Abbreviations (page xiii)
Introduction (page 1)
1 Women, Weddings, and Swahili Culture (page 8)
2 The Development of Mombasa Society (page 22)
3 Coastal Society: Slavery and Male-Female Relations (page 43)
4 Books and Pocketbooks: The Fruits of Female Education (page 101)
5 The Marginalization of Women's Work (page 126)
6 Women's Collectivities: Lelemama (page 156)
7 Women's Collectivities: Improvement Associations (page 182)
8 Women's Collectivities: Makungwi (page 196)
9 Sex, Class, and Ethnicity (page 218)
Appendix: Terminology Employed in Female Puberty Rites (page 221)
Persons Interviewed (page 225)
Bibliography (page 227)
Index (page 249)

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Muslim Women in Mombasa

1890-1975

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Muslim Women in Mombasa 1890-1975 |

Margaret Strobel

New Haven and London Yale University Press 1979

Published with assistance from the Louis Stern Memorial Fund.

Copyright ©1979 by Yale University. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections 107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by reviewers for the public press), without written permission from the publishers. Set in Press Roman type. Printed in the United States of America by The Murray Printing Co., Inc., Westford, Massachusetts. Published in Great Britain, Europe, Africa, and Asia (except Japan) by Yale University Press, Ltd., London. Distributed in Australia and New Zealand by Book & Film Services, Artarmon, N.S.W., Australia; and in Japan by Harper & Row, Publishers, Tokyo Office. Chapters 6 and 7 are adapted from “From Lelemama to Lobbying: Women’s Associations in Mombasa, Kenya,” in Women in Africa, edited by Nancy J. Hafkin and Edna G. Bay, Stanford University Press (©1976 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University). Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Strobel, Margaret, 1946Muslim women in Mombasa, 1890-1975. Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Women, Muslim. 2. Women—Kenya—Mombasa. I. Title.

HQ1170.887 301.41°2’0967623 79-10721 ISBN 0-300-02302-2

Contents

List of Tables and Maps Vii Acknowledgments ix

Swahili Glossary xi Abbreviations Xili

Introduction 1

1 Women, Weddings, and Swahili Culture 8 2 The Development of Mombasa Society 22 3 Coastal Society: Slavery and Male-Female Relations 43 4 Books and Pocketbooks: The Fruits of Female Education 101

= The Marginalization of Women’s Work 126

6 Women’s Collectivities: Lelemama 156 7 Women’s Collectivities: Improvement Associations 182

8 Women’s Collectivities: Makungwi 196

9 Sex, Class, and Ethnicity 218

Index 249

Persons Interviewed 225 Bibliography 227 Appendix: Terminology Employed in Female Puberty Rites 221

V

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Tables

Patterns 24 1891-1919 66

1 Mombasa: Changes in Governments and Immigration

2 Trends in Property Transactions by Non-Asian Muslims, 3 Economic Participation of Non-Asian Muslim Women

by Type of Transaction and Type of Property, 1891-1919 68 4 Ranking of Most Active Groups by Ethnicity, Sex, Type

of Transaction, 1891-1919 70

5 Ranking of Ethnic Groups According to Percentage of

6 Rentals in 1899 93

the Group’s Transactions by Women, 1891-1919 71

Maps

1 The Indian Ocean 23 2 East Africa 31

3 Mombasa 38

4 Slave-Yielding Societies in East and Central Africa |

That Hold Female Initiation Rites 199

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Acknowledgments This study resulted from the convergence of my interests in African history and my participation in the women’s movement in the late 1960s and the 1970s. As I began my research I realized how little study had been devoted to African women, particularly from a historical perspective. Since then new information has appeared, including important materials by African women themselves, yet much remains to be done. First, thanks must go to the many women and men in Mombasa who offered their hospitality and shared their experiences with me:

the families whose weddings I attended, the makungwi and wari whose rites I participated in, and the women from whose conversations comes much of my understanding of Mombasa society. Among

these persons, several stand out. The household of Abusuleiman took me in from the start and introduced me to Muslim values and a

network of women. With Bi Kaje and Bi Zuwena I spent many enjoyable hours in conversation. Similarly, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy and her household explained the female subculture of Mombasa to me and introduced me to helpful contacts. To Ma Mishi, Ma Sheha, Ma Iko, and my own kungwi Mwana Isha I owe my under-

standing of the makungwi; I appreciate their willingness to open their secrets to an outsider. Finally, teatime with members of the Said Baghozy household yielded pleasurable and interesting discussions of the affairs of Mombasa. The experience of fieldwork would have been less without Fatma Hussein, with whom I shared the anxieties and joys of research. Her familiarity with coastal society helped me greatly, particularly in the

early days. Frederick Cooper’s help in the initial stages of research and his friendship throughout the past years have been an important source of support and suggestion. I appreciate the assistance of Professors A. I. Salim and Karim Janmohamed of the Department of History, University of Nairobi, and the benefits of being a research associate there. The staff of the 1X

x ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Kenya National Archives and other government archives were cooperative in providing materials.

Many people have contributed to the analysis and writing of the information collected in Kenya. In countless ways and at all stages, Gary Nash gave me encouragement and careful criticism. Edward A. Alpers and Temma Kaplan provided close readings and support for the dissertation that formed the basis of this book. In addition, helpful criticism came from Frederick Cooper, William Barclay, B. G.

Martin, Hilda Kuper, Deborah Rosenfelt, Nancy Hollander, and graduate students in my seminars at UCLA on African women and Swahili history. Statistical material from the land office in Mombasa was collected by Frederick Cooper, Karim Janmohamed, and John Zarwan. I thank them for sharing the raw data with me, and Cooper

and Zarwan especially for providing me with sheafs of computer printouts. I received material that I would not have uncovered myself from Edward Alpers, T. O. Ranger, and John Iliffe. Gill Shepherd, Farouk Topan, and Zainab Jama Issa allowed me to read and use unpublished articles. Sara Mirza, who patiently conversed with me in Swahili when I first arrived in Nairobi, later assisted in translating some of the makungwi’s phrases. Carolyn Williams checked and retyped the bibliography. Research was made possible by a Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research grant for 1972-73; the dissertation and an additional

two months’ research was completed with the aid of a Woodrow Wilson Doctoral Dissertation Fellowship in Women’s Studies, 197475; the manuscript revisions were assisted by a National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Stipend, 1977. While many persons have contributed to the book, the interpretation is, of course, my own. Where my views differ from those of my

friends in Mombasa, I hope the effort is understood to have been in good faith.

Los Angeles, 1978 Margaret Strobel

Swahili Glossary Swahili nouns usually consist of a root and prefix. Singular words are made plural by changing the prefix (plural forms are in parentheses). For the sake of simplicity I have dropped the prefixes that identify a people; for example, I use “Zaramo”’ instead of the more accurate “Wazaramo.” The following are the Swahili words most frequently used in these chapters: ada: customary fees beni: brass bands buibui: black robe worn by Muslim women fitina: discord, quarreling, intrigue, dissension heshima: respect, rank, honor, dignity huru (mahuru): manumitted slave (cf. mwungwana) jamaa: one’s family or following (loosely translated) kadhi (makadhi): Muslim judge of personal law kiuno: hip rotation that is the basic dance style during puberty rites kungwi (makungwi): woman who initiates young girls at puberty; the title of the middle rank among makungwi. lelemama: a dance style brought from Zanzibar; popular especially during the period between the world wars leso: two pieces of printed cloth, a major item of clothing, especially for more traditional women liwali: highest appointed Muslim official under the sultan’s and the colonial government madrasa: more advanced religious class for students who have completed basic Koranic school mahari: bridewealth mahuru: pl. of huru makadhi: pl. of kadhi makungwi: pl. of kungwi masuria: pl. of suria mji (miji): town, tribe, (e.g., Miji Kumi na Mbili: the Twelve Tribes) Al

xii SWAHILI GLOSSARY mwalimu (walimu): teacher

mwari, mwali (wari, wali): a young female initiate in puberty rites

mwungwana (waungwana): person of free birth, without slave descent in the patriline; well-bred person

mzalia (wazalia): a locally born, not an imported, slave; person of slave ancestry ngoma: dance, drum

Nyakanga: mythical originator of Mombasa female puberty rites; title of highest rank of the makungwi

purdah: Muslim practice of the seclusion and veiling of women somo: term derived from Arabic for a woman who instructs girls in menstrual and sexual matters suria (masuria): concubine tariqa: Muslim brotherhood tembo: palm wine ukungwi: the activity of makungwi unyago: puberty initiation dances vugo: buffalo horns; name of a wamiji ceremony

walimu: pl. of mwalimu .

wamiji (pl. of mmiji): female elders of the Twelve Tribes wari: pl. of mwari waungwana: pl. of mwungwana wazalia: pl. of mzalia

Abbreviations CMS Church Missionary Society CPA Coast Provincial Archives, Mombasa EALR East Africa Law Reports HC High Court records, Nairobi

IBEA Imperial British East Africa Company | ILO International Labour Office

Britain and Ireland }

JRAI Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great KNA Kenya National Archives, Nairobi LO A,LOB Land Office records, Mombasa MDAR Mombasa District Annual Report MMA Mombasa Municipal Archives, Mombasa ‘"MSS” “‘Mombasa Social Survey” PA Probate and Administration records, Nairobi

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Introduction Depending on his or her own perspective, the reader may be tempted

to look for the “cause” of the “oppression” of Muslim women in Mombasa. Some will deny that women suffer any disadvantages. Others will charge that Islam places women in a subordinate position. Still others will locate the roots of women’s oppression in colonialism or in the commercial interactions of which the Swahili coast was a part for centuries and which gave rise to class development, specifically slavery. This study begins with an Islam that has been practiced for centuries and with slavery firmly entrenched; it cannot address the critical question of how the relations between the sexes evolved prior to 1890. However, it does examine how class differences provided wealthy women with options unavailable to poorer ones; how the dominant values articulated in Islam restricted the behavior of upper-class women more than lower-class women;

how the sexual segregation prescribed by Islam contributed to female interaction across class lines and thus favored the formation of a female subculture through these shared experiences; and how the economic, social, and ideological facets of colonialism affected women and men differently.

The women described here have been divided by class and ethnicity as much as they have been united by sex. At the turn of the century economic position and social status were largely congruent categories, except in the case of the reputed descendants of the Prophet, who had high social status whatever their economic fortunes. However, of the remainder of the Muslim population, the freeborn people from prominent Arab or indigenous Twelve Tribes lineages were the slaveowners, landowners, and officeholders. As the decades passed, social status and economic position began to diverge. Local Muslims lost their slaves through abolition and many sold their land to Europeans and Indians, but they retained their claim to high

birth and moral authority. I will use the term “elite” to designate 1

2 INTRODUCTION those people who claimed high social status on the basis of ancestry despite financial decline in the twentieth century. Despite centuries of settlement and considerable scholarship about the east African coast, there is no agreement about how to identify the people who live there. Some writers choose the term ‘“‘Swahilispeaking” to indicate the diverse peoples “that have, historically,

come together to form a composite political, economic, and cultural unit.”’ Yet Swahili is spoken by many people in east Africa who are otherwise culturally distinct from coastal residents. This linguistic fact gives rise in practice to an elastic definition of a Swahili person. A Nairobi Christian might consider any Swahilispeaking east African Muslim to be a Swahili, while coastal residents

are likely to limit the category to coastal Muslims who share additional cultural characteristics beyond language. In Mombasa some would apply the term “Swahili” only to the city’s longest residents, the Twelve Tribes.” Not only is the current designation variable, but usage has changed with different historic periods. The term “‘Swahili”’ at times has been a euphemism for slave: to be just “‘a Swahili’? and not more precisely placed as a member of a tribe or a local community may mean that a man [or woman]

is unsure of his [or her] origins, or prefers to keep quiet about them, and that he [or she] may have no community to fall back on where he [or she] would be accepted as an equal participant in the social heritage. For members of this cosmopolitan society to belong merely to the coast could mean in a sense to belong nowhere.° 1. Ahmed Idha Salim, The Swahili-Speaking Peoples of Kenya’s Coast, 1895-

1965 (Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1973), p. 9; A. H. J. Prins, The Swahili-Speaking Peoples of Zanzibar and the East African Coast, Ethnographic Survey of Africa, pt. 12 (1961; reprint, London: International African Institute, 1967).

2. Carol M. Eastman, “Who Are the Waswahili?” Africa 41, no. 3 (July 1971), 228-36. In a more recent article Eastman argues that in defining who is Swahili, the purpose in asking the question influences the answer; “Ethnicity and the Social Scientist: Phonemes and Distinctive Features,” African Studies Review 18, no. 1 (1975), 29-38. 3. Peter Lienhardt, Introduction, in The Medicine Man, Swifa ya Nguvumnali by Hasani bin Ismail (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), p. 12.

INTRODUCTION 3 During the colonial period, to be classified as “Swahili” meant to be

a “native,” a person subject to discrimination and below “nonnatives” in status. Since independence the tables have turned. To have an African heritage is to one’s advantage today, and groups who wished to be “nonnatives” during the colonial period now emphasize their assimilation by referring to themselves as “Swahili.” The definitional problem in identifying coastal people comes from

the need to acknowledge the overarching similarity in culture among social groups that for political, economic, and social reasons have chosen to differentiate themselves in various historical periods. Some coastal people have evolved similar values, customs, behavioral norms, and language—a pattern that constitutes Swahili culture. This historical process is represented in the wedding celebrations, discussed in chapter 1, which reflect the different social forces that have shaped Mombasa over the past eighty-five years. Yet to identify the

coastal people who participated in these weddings as “Swahili people’? may be to deny their own self-identification in different periods. Rather than insisting on the unity of cultural and ethnic

categories, a more fruitful approach accepts ethnic groups as ascriptive categories that members themselves adopt and focuses on

the processes by which boundaries between ethnic groups are maintained .*

The study of wedding celebrations reveals the mechanisms by which groups in Mombasa both distinguished themselves from one another and identified with one another through the manipulation of cultural forms. The participants did not necessarily call themselves

Swahili people, but they were contributing to the evolution of Swahili culture.

Thus, I will use the term “Swahili” to characterize the cultural pattern, despite the temptation to identify the subjects ethnically as “Swahili” women. Substituting instead the label “Muslim”? women

is not without its difficulties, for Mombasa contains Indian (now Asian) Muslims whose sect of Islam and whose cultural patterns differ from the African and Afro-Arab women whose lives are 4. Fredrik Barth, “Introduction,” in Ethnic Groups and Boundaries. The Social Organization of Culture Differences, ed. Fredrik Barth (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1969), pp. 10-15.

4 INTRODUCTION described here.> But in this study, “Muslim women” will delineate a population of women who have participated in various aspects of

Swahili culture, although the word is understood to be more inclusive than my usage admits.

To write about women on the Swahili coast is to probe the history of the inarticulate and invisible. Evidence written by women themselves is scarce. Even when the subject is women, men write in newspapers. Divorce and other court cases provide some insights into male-female relations, although these records are biased toward

domestic disharmony. Reports of colonial officials either ignore women, concentrate on activities such as prostitution, or embody the typical administrator’s racist and sexist prejudices. Swahili literature

better reflects coastal people’s view of themselves, but it is often available only from European collectors and translators. Moreover, using literature as evidence runs its own risks. Stories often reflect the projections of their authors, regardless of sex or assumptions about human nature. Despite these handicaps, all these sources have been used cautiously to draw a composite picture of women’s lives.

The paucity of written documents enhances the significance of oral evidence.© However, certain methodological problems of collecting and interpreting these data must be discussed. First, although most of the events described here happened within the lifetime of the people I interviewed, detailed and accurate dates are missing. There

are also distortions stemming from my informants’ attitudes and prejudices. I immediately treated as suspect certain types of informa-

tion—X’s winning a dance competition, or the ethnic diversity of Y’s association. The prejudice in the first case is obvious. X believes

her group is the best, but by questioning both sides and neutral ' parties, this kind of distortion was easily checked. The claim to diversity is also suspect. Coastal people, particularly Arabs, often are

reluctant to admit that they dominated a social hierarchy. State5. People from the Indian subcontinent were collectively labeled “‘Indian” until Partition in 1947. Since then those residing in east Africa have been called “Asians.”

6. For further discussion see Margaret Strobel, “Doing Oral History as an patsiver,” Frontiers, A Journal of Women’s Studies 2, no. 2 (Summer 1977),

INTRODUCTION 5 ments that “anyone could participate” are found on further probing to mean that “‘any Muslim who lived around here and knew people in the associations could participate.” More detailed questioning

usually clarified the degree of ethnic diversity. Because slavery remains an emotionally charged issue, I avoided asking directly about

it until my informant herself introduced the subject, or until I had gained her confidence. Many women readily acknowledged that their ancestors were Yao or Nyasa (peoples from whom slaves were drawn). However, women of freeborn ancestry generally spoke more directly of slaves and slavery than did women of slave ancestry.

Before reaching Kenya I found little information from which to

focus and plan my research. I had intended to work in a small, relatively homogeneous coastal community. Professor A. I. Salim of the Department of History, University of Nairobi, suggested instead that I study Mombasa, since the lives of women had changed little

in the smaller towns. Through his letters of introduction I met several women in Mombasa who were active in the women’s “improvement”’ associations discussed in chapter 7. I spent the first

few months visiting homes, attending weddings, polishing my Swahili, and learning about the Muslim way of life in Mombasa. My initial attempts to collect life histories were not inspiring. But a few natural raconteurs sustained me in the early days when I was looking

for topics and questions that would open up and focus my interviews. The subject of women’s associations performed this function, identifying the women with whom to talk (the leaders and members

of associations) and providing something relatively impersonal to discuss in our early interviews but a topic that interested and excited the women. Thus, I was able to focus on aspects of their experience that the women themselves found important. Unfortunately, certain important areas of research, such as women’s economic activities, received too little attention in the field.

Because Mombasa contains a quarter of a million people, the representativeness of my female informants is a crucial point. The earlier chapters, which draw upon written sources, deal broadly with

Muslim women in Mombasa. Chapters 6 through 8 are based primarily on information from women who live in or have ties with

Old Town, the oldest section of Mombasa. The women whom

, 6 INTRODUCTION I interviewed formed a network of friends and acquaintances but one that contained women from the upper class, women of slave

ancestry, educated and uneducated women, members of rival organizations, and both leaders and ordinary members of associations. I conducted fewer and less extensive interviews with women from parallel associations in the newer parts of Mombasa in order to determine whether or not the Old Town pattern was unique. From these other interviews I am satisfied that the structure and activities of the lelemama and makungwi associations that I describe for Old Town are reproduced in other Mombasa associations. The quality of information I received has inevitably been affected by my relationship with its source. All but three or four of my major informants were interviewed many times. Having studied Swahili for

three years, I was able, after adjusting to Mombasa dialect and mastering a larger vocabulary, to conduct interviews without an interpreter. Since I later confirmed information that was drawn from early interviews in Swahili, the difference in my language ability at the beginning and end of fieldwork was not critical. The drawbacks

inherent in not using a native speaker as my interpreter were far outweighed by the advantages in establishing rapport with people. Many appreciated my interest in them and my ability to speak their language. Because some of the information, particularly about ethnic

attitudes and old rivalries, was highly sensitive, my success in establishing a degree of friendship and closeness was decisive. For example, one woman provided me with key information about the

competition between dance societies only after fifteen hours of interviews and innumerable visits to her home spread over several

months. Similarly, it was not until I joined the association and danced at many weddings that the head makungwi decided to tell me about secret puberty rites and agreed that I might write up the information. In this part of my research, an interpreter, who most likely would have been a high school student from an elite family, would have been a positive hindrance. My choice of depth interviews over survey techniques and questionnaires came both from the

nature of my material and from a personal desire to minimize the “business”’ aspect of my relationship with my informants. Finally, some clarifications. Forms of currency changed during the

INTRODUCTION 7 period covered: rupees were replaced by florins in 1919, which were in turn replaced by shillings in 1922. As for orthography, for the sake of consistency the roman script Swahili spelling is employed according to Frederick Johnson’s A Standard Swahili-English Dictionary,

even for words that occur in both Arabic and Swahili.’ People’s names are written as they appear in documents or according to the common Mombasa form, even if they derive from the Prophet and his family. This decision is based first on a desire for consistency. However, in addition, orthography suggests a peoples’ sense of their identity. Although Arabs retain some attachments to Arabia, most have become integrated into coastal society in language and custom.

This process of integration is emphasized by the use of Swahili, rather than Arabic, orthography.

7. 1939; reprint, London: Oxford University Press, 1967.

]

Women, Weddings, and Swahili Culture Reflecting broad patterns of social change, weddings reveal much about a society’s values, social structure, and ethnic consciousness. Changes in weddings over the past eighty-five years illuminate some of the major themes of Mombasa’s history that will be discussed in subsequent chapters: the interaction of slaves and freeborn people, the impact of the abolition of slavery, the influence of colonialism, and the development of a female subculture. In sexually segregated Mombasa, weddings have been primarily women’s business and thus highlight the role of women in developing a Swahili culture drawn

from the cultural repertoire of people of both slave and free ancestry. Over the past nine decades weddings have mirrored this process of integration and have acted as a vehicle for it. Weddings encapsulate social change in Mombasa and demonstrate

to what degree slaves contributed to Swahili culture. A major function of wedding celebrations has been to affirm through ritual the social structure and ethnicity of Mombasa’s diverse Muslim

community. Over time slaves adopted the styles of their social superiors because prestige was attached to that style of clothing, behavior, or dance. In addition, slaves evolved their own customs to satisfy their needs, according prestige within their own value system. Arab immigrants adopted the customs of the indigenous African upper class, the Twelve Tribes, for intermarriage facilitated their obtaining land, power, and progeny. The unique feature of this process of assimilation on the Swahili coast is that the African and Arab slaveowners absorbed the customs

and dances of slaves. Wedding celebrations give evidence for this process by which the stigma of slavery declined in the twentieth

8

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 9 century. Particular kinds of wedding dances have been in vogue at different periods over the last nine decades. The stages run roughly from the late nineteenth century to World War I, from then to the early fifties, and finally to the present. Investigation of particular dances illustrates changing social structure and ethnic consciousness. Although the broader changes of the last eighty-five years affected Mombasa’s women, weddings remained an especially important part

of their lives. Sexually segregated weddings, in which men and women attended separate gatherings, offered women a chance for gossip, discussion, and entertainment. Men fulfilled these needs in neighborhood mosques, political associations, or social clubs, in

which women did not participate. In addition to providing an opportunity for socializing, weddings offered a chance to display the

wealth of the newlywed couple’s families and that of their guests. The quality of clothing and the amount of gold jewelry worn by women at a wedding marked their wealth. To enhance their prestige,

the bride and groom’s families were expected to spend lavishly, providing feasts and dances. Wealthy people’s weddings formerly extended over four or five months, giving them time between feasts and dances to accumulate necessary funds. Now the celebrations are compressed into one week, and some dance ceremonies have been dropped.* Economic hardship largely accounts for the contraction, although in some cases people have chosen to direct their money instead into consumer goods or education. Responsibilities for the marriage ceremony were divided by sex. 1. Itis unclear precisely how exchanging and sharing customs affects relationships between people of differing social classes. Clearly, prejudice and discrimination can coexist with an appreciation of the customs of a people, as the history of Afro-American jazz indicates. The integration of the cultural forms

of different social groups is not in itself sufficient to bring about social equality, for it is easier to perform the dances of a low-status group than it is to allow a daughter to marry into that group.

2.In the late 1960s, on the less affluent island of Mafia off the Tanzania coast, the usual wedding lasted only twenty-four hours. Only a very important event occasioned a celebration of several days’ duration. Ann Patricia Caplan,

Choice and Constraint in a Swahili Community (London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1975), p. 35.

10 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE Men supervised the legal and religious aspects of marriage, while women organized the wedding festivities. A marriage was established

legally with the reading of the nikah by a kadhi at a mosque in the presence of the groom, the bride’s guardian, and male friends. Until World War I, men performed their own wedding dances separate from women, a custom that has since declined.2 Nowadays men gather to recite the Koran after the mosque ceremony and escort the groom to the bride’s house. But this is a minor ritual compared with the six or seven days of feasting and dancing that comprise the

women’s celebration. These festivities have brought women of different social classes and ethnic groups together in intimate activity, thus helping to integrate diverse peoples. Before World War I, wedding celebrations articulated the difference

between slaves and freeborn people, a primary socioeconomic division of that period. Although slavery was legal in Mombasa only

until 1907, the values and social hierarchy embedded in slavery continued well after abolition. Thus, slaves and freeborn people had different forms of wedding celebrations, and slaves participated in special roles during the weddings of the freeborn. Mombasa’s freeborn Muslims, the Twelve Tribes and the Arabs

with whom they had intermarried, shared a wedding ceremony called vugo.* A central function of vugo ceremonies was the recognition of the free ancestry of the bride by wamiji, female elders of the Twelve Tribes. Even after the bride’s and groom’s male relatives had

performed the Muslim marriage ceremony at the mosque, the wed-

ding celebration could not proceed without the approval of the female elders. After receiving their customary fee in food and clothing, the female elders sang special songs and struck the buffalo horns, or vugo, from which the ceremonies derive their name. At the beginning of a freeborn person’s wedding, the female elders beat a

drum at the bride’s house to announce to the neighbors that a 3. See Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, ‘““Notes on Customs in Mombasa,” Swahili 34, pt. 1 (1964), 18; R. Skene, “Arab and Swahili Dances and Ceremonies,” JRATI 47 (1917), 413-34. 4. See Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, ‘““Notes on Customs,” and Farouk Topan, “Yugo: A Virginity Celebration Ceremony among the Swahili of Mombasa,”

unpublished MS. I am grateful to Mr. Topan for allowing me to read his manuscript.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 11 marriage was taking place there. On successive days additional vugo ceremonies occurred. In one, the groom had to identify the hand of his bride, who sat alongside three other women behind a curtain with

only their hands revealed. On another day the female elders sang

vugo songs while the bride was washed and annointed for the wedding night. The consummation of the marriage and certification

of the bride’s virginity were attended by the female elders, as representatives of the whole community, and by a somo, a woman

connected to the bride individually as her instructor in sexual matters. After consummation, the vugo ceremonies ended with a seven-day honeymoon. Slave women were as important as the female elders to the marriage of a freeborn woman. Slaves performed services such as massag-

ing the bride with ground sandalwood to make her skin soft and light, washing the groom’s feet, stuffing pillows with kapok for the bridal bed, and serving the couple during their honeymoon. Slave women also sang special songs during the vugo ceremony. The integra-

tion of female slaves into wedding celebrations in ritual as well as work roles highlights an important feature of coastal society—that is, a kind of intimacy grew between some mistresses and their female slaves. This intimacy existed, of course, within a hierarchical framework and was generally reserved for household slaves. The intimacy between freeborn and slave women was most significantly embodied in the somo, or sexual instructor. Often a slave, this

woman explained menstruation and sex, matters that were not supposed to be discussed between mother and daughter. Of the slaves chosen to be a somo for freeborn girls, many were members of associations that performed female life-cycle rites for other female

slaves. As sexual instructors within slave society, these women were called makungwi (sing. kungwi), or sometimes somo. However, within freeborn society, particularly among Arabs, a woman in this

role was referred to as somo, and rarely as kungwi, by which terminology the freeborn separated themselves from slaves. Similarly,

freeborn families chose slave sexual instructors but did not allow freeborn girls to participate in the slave life-cycle rituals of the makungwi. Intimacy was permitted between individual slave women and young freeborn girls, but freeborn women did not participate in the associations of slave women.

12 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE Until World War I, then, freeborn women held vugo celebrations. While female elders performed rituals to acknowledge the free birth of the bride, slave women were also included in important roles that blended work with ritual. In fact the sexual instructor who was often a slave woman, a trusted family intimate, supervised one of the most essential elements of the wedding, the consummation of the marriage.° Not only did vugo celebrations reflect Mombasa’s social hierarchy at the time, they also are evidence of the integration at the top of that hierarchy of Arabs and the Twelve Tribes, who shared the ritual.® Although slave women took part in freeborn women’s weddings, the reverse was not always the case. As a mark of her assimilation, a female slave born in the household (mzalia) was given a wedding similar to that of her mistress, except that hand-clapping replaced

striking the buffalo horns.’ However, other slave women in the makungwi’s associations performed wedding dances by and for themselves as part of their female life-cycle rituals.® I do not know

the precise form of these dances, whether they drew on ancestral models or instead followed the vugo pattern, as is now the case. But clearly dance represented an important source of identity for slaves during the nineteenth century and into the twentieth. In the 1860s Charles New observed that “the Wasuaheli have their [dances], and

the Wanyassa, Wangindo, and others, theirs.” Fifty years later 5. The degree of participation by the kungwi in the consummation of the marriage seems to have marked social status differences among the freeborn.

For example, Richard Burton, describing Zanzibar in the 1850s, said that Afro-Arab (not Arab) “girls... adopt a kungwi or steadmother . .. who at the wedding sits upon the couch till decency forbids.” Zanzibar (London: Tinsley Brothers, 1872), 1:420. In his ethnographic account of Zanzibar in the early 1930s, W. H. Ingrams found that among the “lower class of Arabs,’”” women would listen outside the door for the bride’s cries and inspect the bedsheet for

proof of virginity. He identified this as an African custom that had been adopted in Arab weddings. Zanzibar, Its History and Its People (London: H. F.& G. Witherby, 1931), pp. 200-01. 6. Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, an Omani Arab, describes vugo without limiting its performance to the Twelve Tribes, ““Notes on Customs’’; see also Topan, “Vugo,’ p. 3. 7. Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano. 8. Interviews with Ma Sheba; Fatuma Bwantum; Huda binti Sheik Maamun. 9. Life, Wanderings, and Labours in Eastern Africa, 2nd ed. (c. 1873; London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1874), p. 66.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 13 dances continued to be identified ethnically, although participation

marked social status rather than ethnicity. R. Skene, the district officer, described various dances performed to the north near Malindi

in 1917, some from the Hadramawt or Oman in Arabia, some identified as “Swahili,” and many others whose origins were Nyasa, or slave. It is particularly relevant to the issue of social stratification and change that women of both slave and free ancestry performed some of the same dances. But these dances originated with freeborn women. Dances introduced by slaves were “‘practised only by slaves and people of humble origin.”!° In addition to vugo for the freeborn and the makungwi’s dances for

slave women, other dances were performed at weddings. Some, originating in Oman, were danced at the weddings of the Omani aristocrats. Other dances from the Hadramawt characterized the weddings of Hadrami Arabs. In cases of intermarriage, many different dances were performed, expressing the mixed ethnic background of

the bride and groom. |

Among the other dances performed at weddings before World War I, lelemama is particularly significant. Lelemama was the name given

to two dances with different social implications. The older of the two dances, the lelemama of the female elders, was forbidden to slaves. Like vugo, the wamiji’s lelemama reaffirmed the status differences between slave and freeborn Mombasans. However, in the

1890s another form of lelemama took Mombasa by storm and became the epitome of Swahili culture, the female equivalent of men’s brass bands, which were very popular. This second lelemana, of primary concern here, had been brought to Zanzibar by Manyema slaves from the eastern Congo and from Zanzibar to Mombasa by a slave born in the household of a Twelve Tribes family.1' Women formed associations to dance the Zanzibari lelemama, which was not restricted to those of high social status. Situated in long-settled Old Town, the Zanzibari lelemama associations united Arabs, Twelve Tribes women, and the slayes and freed slaves under their patronage.

Because of their ties with the Twelve Tribes, Mijikenda women 10. Skene, “Dances and Ceremonies,” p. 418. 11. Specifically, into a family of the Three Tribes, one of two subgroups; interview, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano.

14 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE (who were from the coastal hinterland) frequently were members. Indians and up-country Africans did not join, nor were Hadrami Arabs commonly members. Membership patterns did not reflect

rigid rules but rather followed the pattern of interactions and relationships within Old Town. Arabs and Twelve Tribes members, former slaves and servants of their families, and others who had inter-

married with the Arabs and Twelve Tribes formed associations together because of their daily face-to-face relationships. As one woman put it, “it was not a matter of tribe; to join you had to be like us,’ which meant being a long-established Muslim, not a recent arrival to Mombasa, nor a “raw” (mbichi) Mijikenda. These were

elusive but real cultural criteria: one had to feel at home in the Old Town Arab-Swahili milieu. The single Christian member of one group was accepted because she mixed with Old Town people, came to their weddings, and visited in their homes.” Consistent with the social structure and values of the time, slaves

and free women acted differently within lelemama associations. Whereas slaves danced openly before mixed company at communal festivities, freeborn women performed only in seclusion. Some free-

born women were forbidden to dance at all.’> However, both could take titles, which were drawn from both Arab and African models. The leader, given the Arabic title sheha, was surrounded by

subordinates who were called waziri, from the Arabic word for minister, and wazee, the Swahili word for elders. Similarly, in costume the early lelemama dancers combined African and Arab cultures. Half the dancers dressed in two cloths (leso), characteristic 12. Interviews with Aziza Omar Abeidi, Fatma Saidi, and Asha binti Khamis bin Mohamed Mutwafy. The Christian woman, who came from Kisauni, was probably associated with the Freretown mission and perhaps was a convert who had relatives in Old Town. 13. Skene, “Dances and Ceremonies,” p. 417; New, p. 66. See also a report of lelemama in the Comoro Islands, Docteur Fontoynont and Raomandahy, La Grande Comore, Mémoires de l’Academie Malgache, vol. 23 (Tananarive: Academie Malgache, 1937), p. 57. iam grateful to E. A. Alpers for drawing my attention to the Comorian information. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed

Muhashamy. Both slaves and freeborn women wore the same costumes, including Omani dress, but slaves were forbidden to wear shoes. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 15 of indigenous coastal women, and the other half wore the tops and trousers of Masqat, Arabia.

This intermingling of Arab and African, elite and lowly, had psychological effects that can only be conjectured. A slave, sponsored by her mistress, could experience the world of her superiors by wearing Arab dress and being called sheha. In exchange, the mistress could receive vicarious pleasure from her slave’s dancing, while she herself was in purdah.

Thus, in the period from the late nineteenth century until World War I, each of the three styles of wedding celebration differentiated between women of slave and free birth. The makungwi’s wedding dances were performed solely for and by makungwi. Vugo ceremonies included slaves in particular roles, but the purpose of vugo was to assert the free birth of the bride. Lelemama associations represented a step away from strict role differentiation, for both slave and free women could take titles. However, women of free birth refrained from dancing in public because it was an immodest activity associated with low status.

In the second period, between World War I and the early 1950s, lelemama eclipsed both vugo and the makungwi’s wedding dances in

popularity. More than forty lelemama associations flourished in Mombasa.'* In this period a wedding without lelemama brought little prestige. Moreover, while vugo and the makungwi’s dances occurred only at weddings, lelemama was not similarly limited. In addition to dancing at weddings and religious festivities, lelemama associations formed rival pairs, to compete at dancing, singing, and feasting. Thus, the increased popularity of lelemama at weddings was part of a larger enthusiasm and excitement about the dance. As Mombasa responded to the British presence, lelemama changed in structure as well as in popularity. Mombasa expanded out from 14. According to Topan (‘‘Vugo’’), lelemama associations between the World Wars performed their own vugo ceremonies, gaining popularity over the wamiji’s vugo. My information indicates that women were attracted to these associations because of lelemama, rather than the vugo of the lelemama associations. Reports regarding the profusion of lelemama associations came from interviews with Fatuma Mohamed and Nassir Mohamed Mazrui (conducted by Fatma Hussein).

16 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE Old Town, filling the rest of the island with immigrants. As a Swahili form, lelemama primarily attracted Muslims. But in the new Majengo settlements new lelemama associations sprang up, consisting of Muslims who were not closely connected with the Old Town elite. The names of the newer lelemama associations, such as Kenya Colony and Land Rover, reflect the adaptability of lelemama as an

institution and the participants’ pride in being up to date. ) Even the Old Town associations were changing. The daughters of women in the oldest lelemama associations broke down role distinctions between descendants of slaves and freeborn. Lelemama’s second generation of freeborn women began parading down Mombasa’s main streets in their association’s latest costume, expecting to advance

the name of their association by their audacity. The benefits of remaining in purdah to protect one’s reputation could not compete

with the excitement of lelemama. And, as women of the elite emerged from the seclusion of home and veil, another difference faded between them and women of the lower class. British colonialism made its mark on lelemama associations during this period. Costumes included not only the dress of Masqat and the

Twelve Tribes, but also the uniforms of the British Navy and Air

Force. Although the earlier Arabic and African titles were not discarded, new titles were added, identifying the new symbols of authority. The leader, queeni,'> was surrounded by women with European titles such as duke, lady, admiral, colonel, and doctor. For poorer women, or ex-slaves who could not have the Twelve Tribes’ female elders perform vugo at their weddings, lelemama associations

offered alternate access to prestige. Their weddings might now include not only makungwi dances that derived from celebrations of their ancestors, but also lelemama dances that represented the coast and Swahiliness. As a kungwi a woman would be esteemed by other ex-slaves but not by the elite. However, as queeni of Land Rover, the same woman could gain the attention of both elite and lower-

class women. To women on the bottom, lelemama meant access 15.The term “queeni’’ may have been used since the turn of the century. The other titles most likely gained prominence after Britain’s military presence during World War I.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 17 to prestigious positions; to women on the top, lelemama meant the easing of purdah. Lelemama only blurred status distinctions, it did not abolish them.

The association with the largest number of Omani Arabs still considered itself to be the most prestigious group and ridiculed its rivals for having members descended from slaves. But lelemama permitted women of slave ancestry to participate in the same activity in the same roles as women of free ancestry. Not only did lelemama remove

role distinctions based on ancestry, it marked the integration of slave elements into Swahili culture. In dancing the Zanzibari lele-

mama, elite women adopted it as their own and accepted the contribution of slaves to Swahili culture.

The decline of lelemama associations in the late 1940s, for reasons described in later chapters, foreshadowed a broadening of the popularity of the makungwi’s dances. About fifteen or twenty years ago some of the makungwi began to dance at the weddings of non-makungwi, out of friendship or for pay.’® Precisely how this came about remains obscure, but nowadays many Arab and Twelve Tribes families invite the makungwi to perform. Some even dance with the makungwi. Arab women who found it shameful to dance in the manner of the makungwi’s dances are now proud of their own

skill. A few Arabs and Twelve Tribes people even send their daughters to the makungwi’s puberty rites. Other women of free ancestry, at whose weddings vugo songs were sung, joined the makungwi as adults. Significantly, women who have a claim to the female elders choose instead to affiliate with the makungwi. For their part, the makungwi have modified their wedding dances by incorporating the main elements of the vugo dances done at the turn of the century. The makungwi have a dance called “placing the drum,” which is analogous to the function performed by the female elders in vugo celebrations. A slave woman’s task has been transformed into another makungwi dance in which pillows are stuffed with kapok. The final song contains a residue from slave times. The words that literally mean “I am taking ivory to the freeborn people,” 16. Interviews with Huda binti Sheik Maamun, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, and Ma Sheba.

18 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE are now translated as “I am taking pillows to the bride’s family.”*” A third dance involves hiding the bride behind a curtain, reminiscent of

the ceremony in vugo where the bride sits behind a curtain, hidden from the groom. Finally, the makungwi dance their own version of “bathing the bride” in preparation for delivering her to the groom. It is not known when the wedding dances took this form, but the

makungwi have shaped their own wedding dances in a Swahili pattern.

It is a long journey from the slave society at the turn of the century when slaves participated in freeborn weddings in subordinate roles, to today’s society where people of free ancestry join in dances that were once limited to slaves. Evidence of change is found both in

the abolition of role differences between women of slave and free

ancestry and in the willingness of elite women to participate in makungwi’s dances. But the transformation has not yet progressed to the point of acceptance of intermarriage between elite women and men of slave ancestry. As one anonymous woman explained: Nowadays people are not sold [as slaves], but something persists. They know that they cannot come to us inappropriately and say,

“I want my child to marry yours.” We attend weddings and dances together, but they know their place. We do not have to tell them. There is one thing, however; if a child of ours wants to

set up household with them, it is the child’s own business. ... One who has been manumitted has the legal right to marry into any house he wishes, but we do not do it... . Even nowadays, people are not [considered to be] of one kind [i.e., equal]. Even if we see that his thoughts are good, he will not receive a wife from us. We go to weddings together, but the matter of intermarriage creates problems. Older people still do not approve.’® The stigma of slavery has declined, but it has not disappeared.

Women’s ties within household and neighborhood groupings, of which weddings are an important example, have been crucial in the changing relationship of people of slave and free ancestry. Hence 17. In Swahili, ‘“‘Napeleka pembe kwa warungwana.” 18. See also G. M. Wilson, “‘Racial Accommodation” in ‘“‘“Mombasa Social Survey” (hereafter ““MSS”’), ed. G. M. Wilson (mimeographed, 1957), p. 610.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 19 the actions of women in a limited domestic sphere take on greater significance. Household connections probably accounted for the recruitment of freeborn and slave women into the same lelemama associations. Similarly, slave and freeborn women shared the intimate experience of learning about menstruation. While freeborn girls had slave somo, some slave women in town ‘“‘washed”’ their daughters at puberty “in the freeborn way.”??

Moreover, the household has played a key role in linguistic assimilation. In comparing linguistic change among groups of men and women who are not native Swahili speakers, one study found that women become monolingual in Swahili more rapidly than men. This phenomenon among Hadrami and Omani families is attributed to a “strong Swahili presence in the home.”’”° Swahili-speaking nursemaids and domestics were probably important to this linguistic assimilation by Arab women. The makungwi provide the clearest example of the importance of

neighborhood and household networks in changing social status. Mombasa contains several makungwi associations, one centered in Old Town, the others scattered in the newer Majengo settlements. Unlike the Majengo makungwi, the Old Town makungwi have a long

history of interaction with Old Town’s Arabs and Twelve Tribes. Decades ago some of these makungwi were concubines or wives of Old Town men. After abolition some ex-slaves and ex-mistresses and

their descendants maintained their ties.2* This continuous interaction has affected the elite women’s opinions of the makungwi. Old Town Arab and Twelve Tribes women say that the Old Town makungwi were and are “civilized,” having associated with “‘civilized”’

people over a long period of time. In contrast, they consider the Majengo makungwi to be “bush.” The Old Town makungwi themselves feel superior, asserting that they have fancier, more stylish dances than the Majengo makungwi. This might be thought to be 19. Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano. 20. Haig Der-Houssikian, “Linguistic Assimilation in an Urban Center of the Kenya Coast,” Journal of African Languages 7, no. 2 (1968), 87.

21. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, Nuri Fakirmohamed, and Mohamed Ali Mirza. One still finds former slaves living with the descendants of their ex-owners.

20 WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE mere boasting, except for the fact that the Majengo makungwi make no comparable assertions of superiority. They claim merely

that there is no difference between them and the Old Town makungwi. All this seems to indicate a status difference between the

Old Town and the Majengo makungwi, based on the Old Town makungwi’s closer ties to the Arab and Twelve Tribes elite families. This interaction not only has raised the Old Town makungwi’s status vis-a-vis other makungwi. It has also contributed to the lessening of

status difference between the Old Town makungwi and the Old Town Arabs and Twelve Tribes, for the makungwi who hire out to

elite families’ weddings are the Old Town makungwi, not the Majengo groups. Thus social and cultural integration has proceeded

farther where women of slave and free ancestry were linked through household and neighborhood ties. The flexible structure of weddings has further encouraged cultural borrowing between people. In a wedding one does not have to make

a single, coherent statement of ethnic identity. Rather, one can dance Hadrami dances to satisfy a Hadrami aunt, the next night invite a lelemama association, two nights later sponsor the makungwi,

and the final night display the bride in western makeup and dress. This varied and complex statement of a family’s ethnicity and values

both admits the discreteness of the elements and allows for the merging of those elements. I can only speculate about the difference for men and women with regard to the relationship between owners and slaves. Clearly there

are some similarities. Men’s brass bands in the twentieth century recruited freed slaves into the bands of their patrons, as in lelemama associations. But the difference in men’s and women’s experiences must have resulted in different mechanisms for accomplishing the integration of various peoples. For example, boys and men of differing social status participated together in Koranic school and mosque

activities, experiences that women did not have.?* On the other hand, men did not have the intimacy of the household, particularly the relationship of a sexual instructor to her young charge, which was reinforced at puberty, marriage, and childbirth. 22. Frederick Cooper, Plantation Slavery on the East Coast of Africa (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1977), p. 216, n. 12.

WOMEN, WEDDINGS, AND SWAHILI CULTURE 21 Swahili society’s genius for absorbing and Swahilizing people has not brought equality and homogeneity.”* Social hierarchy remains,

even while status differences between people of slave and free ancestry diminish. But the evidence from wedding celebrations indicates that the stigma of slavery is waning as people from all classes absorb the cultural heritage of slaves. It further suggests that women, because of their position in Mombasa society, have been

important agents in the integration of different elements into Swahili culture.

23. The phrase comes from James de Vere Allen, Lamu (Nairobi: Kenya Museum Society, c. 1972), p. 2.

2 The Development of Mombasa Society For centuries various towns along the Swahili coast, which stretches from southern Somalia to northern Mozambique, bridged the Indian

Ocean trading network with the African hinterland. Favored by a natural harbor, the island town of Mombasa received people from diverse areas and cultures: Hindu traders from Kutch, Arabs from Oman and the Hadramawt, Muslims from the Indian subcontinent, African slaves from central Africa, Mijikenda from the nearby hinterland, Portuguese and British traders and administrators, and, more recently, up-country African laborers. Trade brought these disparate peoples to Mombasa, some to sell, some to be sold, some to

extend credit, some to collect customs duties, some to work as porters for caravans, some to organize and profit from the caravans,

and some to unload modern ocean freighters. Like the other autonomous towns and villages that evolved along the coast, Mombasa reflects the origins of these peoples combined into a cosmopolitan and variegated culture.’

In the 750 years of its recorded history prior to colonial rule, Mombasa absorbed one wave of migrants after another, each contributing to its culture. (See map 1.) At different times, migrating

from as far north as the Somali (Banadir) coast, came African groups that eventually amalgamated to form a confederation known as the Twelve Tribes (Thenashara Taifa in Arabic, Miji Kumi na Mbili in Swahili). During the seventeenth century the Portuguese 1. The Swahili coast is noted for its rival towns. Randall L. Pouwels has suggested that these “republican”? forms of government along the coast may have resulted from the influence of Qarmatian migrants from al-Bahrain in the Persian Gulf. ““Tenth Century Settlement of the East African Coast: The Case for Qarmatian/Isma’ili Connections,” Azania 9 (1974), 65-74. 22

ARABIA Sy \ Baluchistan Masqat ¢ Kutch OMAN

08 it g

INDIA

SOMALIA //

a

oS

AS Bye

INDIAN OCEAN

KENYA , Lamu Mombasa

TANZANIA & sanibar @ comer Islands OO) MOZAMBIQUE MADAGASCAR

Map 1. The Indian Ocean

Table 1

Mombasa: Changes in Governments and Immigration Patterns

Government Immigration Patterns Pre-1593 Mwana Mkisi replaced Arrival of some Twelve by Shehe Mvita, begin- Tribes groups from north,

ning of “‘Shirazi”’ Hadrami Arab religious

dynasty c. 1300 leaders, Indian traders, few Omanis

1593-1698 Portugal (with Same Malindi until 1632, then Portuguese captain alone)

1698-1730 Yarubi dynasty from Omani Arab soldiers and

Oman administrators; earlier

groups continue to arrive

1730-1837 Mazrui governor Three Tribes and Nine appointed by Yarubi Tribes groups well established to form confederation of Twelve Tribes; earlier groups continue

1837-1895 Bu Saidi dynasty of Omani Arabs, Baluchi and Oman; capital moved Hadrami soldiers, Indian

to Zanzibar in 1840 traders, slaves from east and central Africa, European missionaries and traders (IBEA)

1895-1963 _ Britain Hadrami workers (‘‘Shi-

hiri’’), British administrators and firms, up-country Africans, Mijikenda

1963-present Kenya Up-country Africans

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 25 ruled the city, leaving Fort Jesus and various Portuguese additions to the Swahili vocabulary as their legacy.”

Mombasa, like other Swahili towns, already contained both wealthy and poor citizens by the end of the seventeenth century. But this stratification increased as a result of the economic and political changes of the next two hundred years under the political control of Arabs from Oman in southeastern Arabia.?> From 1698

the Yarubi dynasty of Oman conquered various towns of the Swahili coast, Mombasa among them. Appointed as governors in 1730, the Mazrui clan remained loyal to the Yarubi when in 1749 a rival Bu Saidi dynasty overthrew them. Thus was established an opposition between the Bu Saidi and the Mazrui that continued after the Bu Saidi leader transferred his capital to the island of Zanzibar in 1840.

During the century of Mazrui rule from 1730 to 1837, Mombasa grew while the Mazrui mediated between the now well-established

subgroups, the Three Tribes and the Nine Tribes. Much of the Mazrui’s strength lay in their ability to balance the demands of the two sections of the Twelve Tribes. Besides providing an effective governmental structure, the Mazrui establishment of Omani-Mazrui rule encouraged Omani Arabs to migrate and settle as soldiers and administrators. Hadrami Arabs came in small numbers, without the 2. Al-Idrisi, writing in the mid-twelfth century, provides the first references to Mombasa, in “The First Western Notice of East Africa,” in The East African Coast, ed. G. §. P. Freeman-Grenville (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), p. 20. For the precolonial period, see H. Neville Chittick, “The Shirazi Colonization of East Africa,” Journal of African History 6, no. 3 (1965), 275-94; Chittick, “The Coast Before the Arrival of the Portuguese,” in Zamani, A Survey of East African History, ed. B. A. Ogot (2nd ed., 1968; reprint, Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1973), pp. 98-114; F. J. Berg, “The Coast from the Portuguese Invasion to the Rise of the Zanzibar Sultanate,” in Zamani, pp. 115-34. For the political organization of Mombasa’s two subdivisions, see F. J. Berg,

“The Swahili Community of Mombasa, 1500-1900,” Journal of African

History 9, no. 1 (1968), 35-56. 3. See Fred James Berg, “Mombasa Under the Busaidi Sultanate: The City and Its Hinterland in the Nineteenth Century,” dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 1971. For political and economic developments on the coast during the first half of the nineteenth century see C. S. Nichols, The Swahili Coast, St. Anthony’s College, Oxford, Publications, no. 2 (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1971).

26 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY impact that their twentieth-century counterparts would have. Similarly, Indians, both Hindus and Muslims, arrived but were not yet

as powerful as they would be under the Bu Saidi.* The end of Mazrui control came in 1837. Only succession disputes among the Mazrui and the disaffection of some of their allies among the Twelve

Tribes on whom the ruler depended for support enabled the Bu Saidi rulers to add Mombasa to their sphere of control.

The rulers of Oman and its commercial center Masqat were involved in the Indian Ocean trading network in the eighteenth century. Under Said ibn Sultan, who reigned from 1804 to 1856, the Bu Saidi were drawn more closely to east Africa in the course of the nineteenth century for several reasons. First, local rulers such as the Mazrui in Mombasa acted as centers of resistance to Omani rule and

had to be more actively policed or, if possible, defeated. Second, having become involved in European rivalries in the whole Indian Ocean during the Napoleonic Wars, Said ibn Sultan was drawn to east Africa to protect this area of his holdings against European trading interests there. Third, the east African trade provided an

important part of Oman’s revenue and could provide more if properly exploited. In 1802 east African revenue constituted onethird of the Omani ruler’s total income. Most of this was duty on slaves and ivory, the coast’s main exports.° For these reasons, in the 4. Berg, ““Mombasa,” pp. 44-59, 77-82. For a discussion of the composition of the Twelve Tribes, see H. E. Lambert, “The Arab Community and the Twelve Tribes of Mombasa,” in “MSS”; Hyder Kindy, Life and Politics in Mombasa (Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1972), pp. 50-51; the “Three Tribes

land case,’’ Abdullah bin Sheikh bin Yunus on behalf of the Thalatha Taifa and W. N. MacMillan v. the Wakf Commissioners and the Land Officer, Civil

Appeal 12/1913, FAZER 5; the ‘‘Nine Tribes land case,’ Jodo Baptista Coutinho v. the Land Officer, Civil Appeal 24/1918, EALR 7, pt. 2, pp. 18086; file on the Nine Tribes land case, KNA Coast 1/40/698; H. E. Lambert, Chi-Jomyvu and Ki-Ngare; Sub-dialects of the Mombasa Area, Studies in Swahili

Dialect, no. 3 (Kampala: East African Swahili Committee, 1958), p. 7; A. C. Hollis, ‘“Notes on the History of Vumba, East Africa,’ JRAJ 30 (1900), 27597. For a discussion of the various Arab “‘clans” or “‘tribes,’’ see Lambert, *‘Arab Community”; R. Skene, “Notes on the Arab Clans of East Africa,” KNA Coast 1/24/223, also KNA DC/MSA 3/1. 5. Nichols, pp. 101-202; John Milner Gray, The British in Mombasa, 18241826, Kenya Historical Society, Transactions, vol. 1 (London: Macmillan, 1957).

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 27 years before 1840, Said ibn Sultan visited east Africa, establishing residence at Zanzibar and instituting a clove industry. As it became evident that east Africa’s potential riches exceeded those of Oman, he decided to move the capital to Zanzibar, though he expected to retain his Omani possessions.

Zanzibar’s rise as an entrepdt led to expansion of trade in east

Africa. Under Said ibn Sultan’s protection, Indian merchants provided credit so that larger caravans could be organized by Arabs and Afro-Arabs and led into the southern interior after the 1830s. The presence of American, British, and French consuls in Zanzibar by the 1840s brought increased trade in such exports as ivory and gum copal (a resin used for varnish) and an increased flow of such imports as American cloth, such luxury goods as pots and pans, and such materials as guns, beads, and wire, which could be exchanged inland for slaves. These men and women were brought to work on Zanzibari and coastal plantations or to become concubines, sold to Africans, or shipped to Arabia and beyond.°®

The Bu Saidi move to Zanzibar transformed Mombasa into a subport of the Zanzibar economic system. Hinterland products such as ivory, grain, and coconuts, Mombasa’s most important exports, were sent to Zanzibar for re-export to Arabia, India, Europe, or America. Moreover, caravans organized by Mombasa’s Arabs and Afro-Arabs

began expanding into the hinterland, although later than their counterparts in the south.’

Bu Saidi rule brought new and different people to Mombasa. Hadrami and Baluchi soldiers occupied the sultan of Zanzibar’s Fort

6. Nichols, chapter 12; John Milner Gray, “Zanzibar and the Coastal Belt, 1840-1884,” in History of East Africa, 1, ed. Roland Oliver and Gervase Mathew (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963), 212-51. 7. Berg, “Mombasa,” pp. 84, 236-39; Nichols, pp. 374-75; Cooper, pp. 10102; Cynthia Brantley Smith, “The Giriama Rising of 1914: Focus for Political Development in the Kenya Hinterland, 1850-1963,” dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles, 1973, pp. 75-77 (forthcoming, Cynthia Brantley, The Giriama of Kenya: Resistance and the Early Colonial Legacy); John Lamphear, “The Kamba and the Northern Mrima Coast,” in Pre-Colonial African Trade, ed. Richard Gray and David Birmingham (London: Oxford University Press, 1970), pp. 75-101.

28 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY Jesus garrison.® The Baluchi, who were Sunni Muslims, as were the

Twelve Tribes, came from Baluchistan to the northwest of India. Perhaps their religious similarity encouraged their integration, for unlike Asian Muslims, today’s Baluchis speak Swahili, many have intermarried with Mombasa’s Arab and Twelve Tribes population, and they share other characteristics of cultural assimilation such as dress, celebrations, and dances. The Hadrami population derives from

individual migration since the thirteenth century as well as from soldiers brought to the garrison. For centuries merchants, mercenaries, and holy men have left the Hadramawt to migrate throughout the Indian Ocean and settle as far as the Philippines. Respected for their spiritual power, reputed descendants of the Prophet (mashari-

fu) traveled the coast, converting and arbitrating in small towns and building a community of Sunni Muslims of the Shafi’i sect, which now dominates the coast. In the nineteenth century most of the noted east African scholars were Shafi’i of Hadrami descent; only a few were Omani Ibadi, and they generally tolerated the Shafi’i.? Mostly males, these Hadrami and Baluchi migrants often married local Arab and Twelve Tribes women or took slaves as concubines. The Bu Saidi period brought Indians in greater numbers to Mombasa, including some new Muslim communities of sailors and 8. Berg, “Mombasa,” p. 96. For a political episode involving the garrison, see Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, ALAkida and Fort Jesus, Mombasa (2nd ed., 1950; reprint, Nairobi: East African Literature Bureau, 1970).

- 9, Berg says that Hadrami masharifu were not prominent in Mombasa (““Mombasa,”’ p. 49). Certain towns along the coast, such as Vumba in southern

Kenya, were ruled by masharifu, see Hollis, p. 284. For Lamu see Peter Lienhardt, “The Mosque College of Lamu and its Social Background,” Tanganyika Notes and Records 5 (1959), 228-42; Abdul Hamid M. el Zein, The Sacred Meadows (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1974), passim. For east Africa in general, see B. G. Martin, ‘““Notes on Some Members of the

Learned Classes of Zanzibar and East Africa in the Nineteenth Century,” African Historical Studies 4, no. 3 (1971), 529-31, 536, “Arab Migrations to East Africa in Medieval Times,” /nternational Journal of African Historical Studies 7, no. 3 (1974), 367-90, and ‘The Qadiri and Shadhili Brotherhoods in East Africa, 1880-1910,” in Muslim Brotherhoods in Nineteenth-Century Africa (London and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1976), pp. 15276. For conditions that caused these migrations, see Abdalla S. Bujra, The Politics of Stratification: A Study of Political Change in a South Arabian Town (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), p. 102, passim.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 29 merchants previously unrepresented there. And Hindu trading castes formed an important part of the Zanzibari economic nexus.!°

By the late nineteenth century differences of wealth and status were evident among the non-Asian Muslim population of Mombasa. Individual landholdings were small, compared with those in Malindi. Most Arabs and Twelve Tribes members in Kisauni, a mainland area

adjacent to Mombasa Island, owned under ten acres, but a few individuals were significantly wealthier. Their wealth came from trade and land ownership alike. In particular Twelve Tribes members

profited from the ivory trade as organizers of caravans to the interior. Overall, however, Omanis prospered more than the Twelve Tribes in the nineteenth century.! Some Omani groups held office under the Bu Saidi, which con-

tributed to their political and economic power. The positions of liwali (the top administrative office), kKadhi, and mudir (the equiva-

lents of district and subdistrict judges) were usually hereditary within a family. Similarly, Twelve Tribes families passed on the positions within the Bu Saidi governmental structure of sheik (the

representatives of each of the Twelve Tribes) and tamim (the representatives of the Nine Tribes and the Three Tribes sections).!*

Those men who did not hold such lofty office were skilled artisans, carpenters, masons, or smiths, many of whom owned slaves.

Others, too poor to be slaveowners, might work as porters, fishers,

or farmers living in the mainland settlements that fringed the island.!s

Slaves occupied the bottom of society in terms of legal status, 10. Cooper, p. 102; John Zarwan, “‘Social Evolution of the Jains in Kenya,” in Hadith 6, History and Social Change in East Africa (Nairobi: East African Literature Bureau, 1976), 134-44; John Irving Zarwan, “‘Indian Businessmen in

Kenya During the Twentieth Century: A Case Study,” dissertation, Yale University, 1977; F. J. Berg and B. J. Walter, ‘““Mosques, Population and Urban Development in Mombasa,” Hadith I (1968), 47-100; J. S. Mangat, A History of the Asians in East Africa, c. 1886 to 1945 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), pp. 15-21, passim. 11. Cooper, pp. 103-08. 12. Berg, ‘“Mombasa,” pp. 97, 99, 153-59.

13. Ibid., p. 162; New, pp. 62-63; for the early twentieth century see Mervyn Beech, “On Occupations,” in unpublished MS. Beech was a district commissioner in Lamu, Takaungu, Malindi, and Mombasa from 1910 to 1921.

30 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY although some held skilled jobs. Brought from central and east Africa, most slaves were ‘Nyasa’ from the Lake Malawi region; Manyema from eastern Zaire; Makonde, Makua, and Yao from southern Tanzania and northern Mozambique; other people from the Tanganyika hinterland such as the Zaramo; and those from the Kenya hinterland, known then pejoratively as “Nyika”’ and presently

as Mijikenda.’* The majority of slaves, both men and women, worked on plantations as agricultural laborers. Some female slaves did domestic work or child care in their owners’ homes or for hire. Men hired out as hawkers, caravan porters, sailors, or fishermen, returning perhaps half their wages to their owners. A few did skilled work—carpentry, masonry, sewing, metal work, door carving, and boat building.**

Mombasa and the rest of the northern Swahili coast were slavereceiving rather than slave-providing areas. Until the 1840s, slaves in Mombasa were valued primarily as domestic or nonagricultural labor

or as a means of displaying wealth. From the 1840s the need for agricultural labor expanded as the retreat of the hostile Galla to the 14. Cooper, p. 120; for Zanzibari slaves’ origins, see Ingrams, p. 220. Each of the nine “Nyika”’ of (since 1945) Mijikenda peoples had reciprocal ties (utani) with one of the Twelve Tribes. For further information see Berg, “Mombasa,” pp. 42-43; Mwidani bin Mwidadi, “Khabare za Kale za Jonvu”’ (History of Jomvu), trans. and ed. Lyndon Harries, Swahili, NS1, no. 2 [no. 31] (September 1960), 144-45. Mijikenda ethnography is still incomplete. For a survey see A. H. J. Prins, The Coastal Tribes of the North-Eastern Bantu, Ethnographic Survey of Africa, pt. 3 (London: International African Institute, 1952). Also Smith, “Giriama Rising’; Cynthia Brantley, ‘““Gerontocratic Government: Age Sets in Pre-Colonial Giriama,” Africa 48, no. 3 (1978), pp. 24864. Thomas T. Spear, “The Kaya Complex: A History of the Mijikenda Peoples of the Kenya Coast to 1900,” dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 1974. Of the thirty slaves in one household in Mombasa, eleven came from southern Tanzania/northern Mozambique and near Lake Malawi, eleven were “‘Nyika,”’ six were from central and northern Tanzania, and two were of unknown origin. The ‘‘Nyika’’ were said to have been pawned because of hunger and thus were differentiated from those slaves captured in wars. Margaret Strobel, “Slave and Free in Mombasa,” Kenya Historical Review 6, nos. 1-2 (1978).

15. Cooper, pp. 173-76, 182-86; Berg, “Mombasa,” pp. 172-75; New, pp. 62-64. In the household mentioned above, note 14, six of the thirty slaves did farm labor, six worked in their owner’s home, fifteen did wage labor including five cooks, and the occupation of three was unknown. Strobel, “‘Slave and Free.”

Rift Valley

KENYA (East Africa Protectorate) Nandi Luyia

Lake Nyanza Rift Valley

ASy ~. Ce,Faza Siyu

(Victoria) Luo \ Kikuyu

Sy Nairobi

\ er

~~ “a,- “ape , Kamb Pate a ‘~A ainoa CeLamu GE) SO~ ~ Gy

Maasai ~~.

«— Manyema Mount Kilimanjaro/\\ Mijikenda Malindi

N

Chagga Taita f _ ~ Mombasa yamwezi “A . sw

SA

Zigua uy Pemba

Zaramo Cana

Bagamoyo®

Dar es Salaam

TANZANIA (Tanganyika) @ Mafia Island

Nyasa BinNeind Kilwa o

Makua

Makonde

Yao Makua Map 2. East Africa Note: Names of peoples are in italics.

32 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY north opened mainland areas to farming. At this time Mombasa, and especially Malindi to the north, began importing additional slaves to work the plantations.'® Abolition of the slave trade and slavery itself came in steps, as the British put increasing pressure on their allies, the successive sultans

of Zanzibar. In exchange for British support against enemies in Oman, the sultans made concessions to British antislave trade demands. The British, seeking a cooperative ruler to enact antislavery measures, bolstered the position of the sultans against their unhappy

slaveowning and slavetrading subjects. In a series of treaties from

1822 until abolition of slavery in 1897 in Zanzibar, successive sultans gradually limited the slave trade and slavery within their territories. On the mainland slavery was abolished later, 1907 in

Kenya and 1922 in Tanganyika. Each of these measures met resistance and succeeded only partially, but by the end of the first quarter of the twentieth century they had taken effect.’” In addition to traders and administrators, other Europeans, who strongly opposed slavery, appeared in Zanzibar and along the coast. Missionaries such as Ludwig Krapf and Johannes Rebmann settled in Mijikenda country near Mombasa in the 1840s and 1850s, although they met with little success in converting Africans.'® But the strongest irritant to Mombasa’s slaveowners came with the establishment 16. Cooper, p. 100. For a brief discussion of the slave trade see Edward A. Alpers, The East African Slave Trade, Historical Association of Tanzania, Paper no. 3 (Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1967). For the slave

trade in the broad context of east African history, see R. M. A. van

Zwanenberg with Anne King, An Economic History of Kenya and Uganda 1800-1970 (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1975). For historical developments in the areas from which slaves and ivory were drawn, see Alison Smith, “The Southern Interior, 1840-84,” and D. A. Low, “The Northern Interior, 1840-84,” in History of East Africa, 1: 253-96, 297-351; Edward A. Alpers, Ivory and Slaves in East Central Africa (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975), chapter 7; James Mbotela, The Freeing of the Slaves (London: Evans Brothers, 1956). 17. See various accounts in Cooper, appendix 2; Nichols, chapter 9; Gray,

“Zanzibar and the Coastal Belt’; Richard D. Wolff, The Economics of Colonialism, Britain and Kenya, 1870-1930 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1974), chapter 2. 18. For a survey see Roland Oliver, The Missionary Factor in East Africa, 2nd ed. (1952; London: Longmans, Green, 1965); A. J. Temu, British Protestant Missions (London: Longmans, 1972).

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 33 of a Church Missionary Society (CMS) mission station for slaves who had been intercepted on ships and then freed by the British.

The Freretown mission was located on the mainland directly opposite Mombasa’s Old Town. Contrary to the orders of their superiors in government and in the church, the missionaries accepted

runaway slaves at the mission. Such action brought them into conflict with the sultan’s subjects, who at that time legally were entitled to own slaves, and who saw the mission as a threat. The diplomatic problem of fugitive slaves ended, for the most part, in 1888 with the compensation to the owners for 1,400 fugitive slaves in the Mombasa area.’? But not until the 1890s did the mission change from a center for freed and escaped slaves to an educational center for young Africans from the coast and other stations inland.

The agent who negotiated the 1888 compensation represented a new European force on the coast: the Imperial British East Africa

Company (IBEA). A mixture of business, philanthropic, and imperialist interests, the IBEA held a concession from 1888 to 1895

for the sultan’s coastal possessions in present-day Kenya in exchange } for £11,000 annual rent. The ten-mile strip, as the sultan’s coastal possessions were called, included land from the coast inland ten miles through present-day Kenya and Tanzania. The IBEA’s signifi-

cance lay less in its economic development of the coast than in its establishment of the first European administration of the coast asa

precursor to formal colonial rule. In 1895 the company transferred the coast to the Foreign Office as part of the new East Africa Protectorate, which included most of present-day Kenya as well. But the legacy of the sultan’s ten-mile strip surfaced

19. For the story of this station, see Norman R. Bennett, “The Church Missionary Society at Mombasa, 1873-1894,” Boston University Papers in African History 1 (1964), 159-95. 20. See Marie De Kiewiet Hemphill, “The British Sphere, 1884-94,” in History of East Africa 1: 391-99; Marie De Kiewiet, “History of the Imperial British East Africa Company, 1876 to 1895,” dissertation, University of London, 1955; John Galbraith, Mackinnon and East Africa, 1878-1895, Cambridge Commonwealth Series (London: Cambridge University Press, 1972).

The coast was separated from Zanzibar administratively in 1904. G. H. Mungeam, British Rule in Kenya, 1895-1912 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), pp. 9, 117.

34 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY in the movement for coastal autonomy at the end of the colonial period.

The transfer of political power from the Muslim sultan to the British government set in motion changes that eroded the Muslim elite’s control of Mombasa.” The migrations of the earlier centuries

had brought into Mombasa small numbers of strangers, most of whom became integrated into Muslim society. Though offices changed hands, the same class of men sat as judges, religious teachers,

and administrators. Their values and ideology were normatively dominant, even though not all people conformed to the norms. However, the process of colonialism transferred this control and influence from the Muslim elite to British administrators, their mission-educated appointees, and Indian merchants and entrepreneurs. The economic policies of the colonial government demanded

the development of Mombasa as a port, and this brought thousands

of up-country Africans into the town. These men and women shared neither the religion, the language, nor the culture of the older residents of Mombasa.” Although many adopted Swahili customs in

the ensuing years, their presence in large numbers significantly affected the town. Thu§ in the colonial period the Muslim elite lost

its cultural hegemony over the town as well as its economic and political power.

What attracted workers to Mombasa was its increased activity as the port serving Uganda, Kenya, and northern Tanganyika.2* The 21. For general histories of colonial Kenya other than those cited below, see Norman Leys, Kenya (London: Hogarth Press, 1924); William McGregor Ross, Kenya from Within (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1927); John Middle-

ton, “Kenya: Administration and Changes in African Life, 1912-45,” in History of East Africa ed. Vincent Harlow, E. M. Chilver, and Alison Smith (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), 2: 333-92; Mungeam; B. A. Ogot, “Kenya Under the British 1895-1963,” in Zamani, pp. 249-94. 22. Karim Janmohamed argues that even those up-country Africans who became Muslims did not lose their sense of ethnic identity associated with their place of origin. “Ethnicity in an Urban Setting: A Case Study of Mombasa,” Hadith 6, History and Social Change in East Africa (1976), 196-97. 23.See Karim Janmohamed, ‘‘African Labourers in Mombasa, c. 18951940,” Hadith 5, Economic and Social History of East Africa (1975), 154-76.

For the Uganda Railroad, see M. F. Hill, Permanent Way (Nairobi: East

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 35 railroad linking these areas with the port provided a ready means of transport both for products and for women and men seeking jobs and a different life-style. For many women the railroad opened the

option of prostitution. Pushed by the imposition of the hut tax in 1901 and attracted by the possibility of wages in Mombasa, men in increasing numbers migrated without their families to work for a period and return home with the necessary cash.”* Initially these laborers were primarily Kamba, Taita, and Kikuyu, later joined by

Luhya and Luo, from the Protectorate interior, Nyamwezi from Tanganyika, and Hadrami (derogatorily called Shihiri to distinguish them from earlier Hadrami migrants). Nearby Mijikenda appeared

when drought brought difficult times to their homes in the dry hinterland, and coastal people migrated to Mombasa as their traditional sources of making a living disappeared.”° From the turn of the century to 1970 Mombasa’s population grew

African Railways and Harbours, c. 1949), pp. 47, 191, 216; Harm J. De Blij, Mombasa: An African City (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1968), p. 46. For the influence on foreign policy of railroad interests in Great Britain,

which needed a market in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, see Wolff, pp. 25-26, passim. For a survey of Kenya’s economic history, see C. G. Wrigley, “Kenya: The Patterns of Economic Life 1902-45,” in History of East

Africa 2: 224. For imperial policy see Wolff, and E. A. Brett, Colonialism and Underdevelopment in East Africa: The Politics of Economic Change, 1919-1939 (New York: NOK, 1973). 24. Janmohamed, “African Labourers,” p. 161. Studying one area in Nyanza,

western Kenya, Margaret Jean Hay argues that migrant workers were not ““target’’ workers, and that long-term migrants prior to 1945 included whole families, not just adult men as was the case after 1945. Short-term migrants were young unmarried men. Whatever may be the case for men leaving Nyanza, those coming to Mombasa usually did not bring their families. Margaret Jean Hay, “Economic Change in Luoland: Kowe, 1890-1945,” dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 1972, p. 159, “Luo Women and Economic Change During

the Colonial Period,” in Women in Africa: Studies in Social and Economic Change, ed. Nancy J. Hafkin and Edna G. Bay (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976), pp. 98-99. 25. Janmohamed, “‘African Labourers,” pp. 161-63; Salim, Peoples, chapter 3. KNA 1/37, Seyidie Province District Quarterly Reports (January?) 1912; KNA 64/260, Seyidie Province Annual Report 1911/12, p. 6; KNA 2/130, MDAR 1912, p. 2; KNA MSA/6, Mombasa Political Record Book, vol. 2, c. 1913, p. 66. Giriama labor appeared in 1915; KNA 22/177, MDAR 1915/16.

36 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY tenfold from 25,000 to 250,000.27 These up-country Africans represented a very different force in the city. Previous immigrants from central and east Africa had been incorporated as slaves into the Muslim community of Mombasa. Not only did these new up-country immigrants for the most part resist Islam, but they also worked as wage laborers within a greatly expanded key sector of Mombasa’s economy.?’ Thus demographic growth further eroded the social and cultural hegemony of the Muslim leaders, who had already lost much of their political control and economic base with the establishment of the Protectorate and the abolition of slavery. By the 196Qs nonMuslims were in the majority in a once overwhelmingly Muslim town.2® Integration of the newcomers with the established residents did not proceed easily. In the period between the world wars outbreaks of violence punctuated relations between ethnic groups and between football clubs, which channeled political as well as athletic interests.?°

Increased immigration during the colonial period also brought changes in settlement patterns. At the turn of the century, population was concentrated in the area now known as Old Town, where

the Twelve Tribes, the Portuguese and the Omani Arabs had 26. Berg and Walter, pp. 95-98; Kenya, Ministry of Finance and Economic Planning, Statistics Division, Kenya Population Census, 1969, vol. 1 (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1970), p. 20. 27. Although non-Muslims came to outnumber Muslims in Mombasa, some

up-country migrants converted, KNA DC/MSA/3/3, p. 3, Native Affairs Report, December 1930, District Commissioner, Mombasa, to Provincial Commissioner, Coast. See also Janmohamed, “Ethnicity,” p. 196. 28. Berg and Walter, p. 68. By 1962 Christians had a majority in Mombasa District, which is larger than Mombasa Municipality. James Holway, ‘“‘The Religious Composition of the Population of Coast Province, Kenya,” Journal of Religion in Africa 3, no. 3 (1970), 229. 29. There were fights between Kikuyu and Swahili, and Luo and Swahili, KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1923, p. 2; a rumor about “blood-drinkers” started an attack on up-country communities, KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1935, p. 3; Hadrami and Luo combat was reported along with a Chagga “‘riot”’ and Baluchi “‘fracas,”’ KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1937, p. 3. For the politics of football, see Hyder Kindy, chapter 9. The British administration saw football as “‘a beneficial factor in the uplifting of the Coast native,” KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1928, p. 6. For ananalysis elsewhere, see Remi Clignet and Maureen Stark, ““Modernisation and Football in Cameroun,” Journal of Modern African Studies 12, no. 3 (1974), 409-21.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 37 successively located their communities. The rest of the island was bush. Within Old Town, ethnic and communal groups clustered in neighborhoods that expressed spatially their sense of commonality and solidarity. Omani Arabs and Indians who were wealthy lived in Kibokoni (see map 3), Baluchis in Makadara, the Nine Tribes in Mjua Kale, and the Three Tribes in Mkanyageni and Kuze.*° Many slaves moved to New Town on the edge of Old Town, away from their owner’s immediate supervision. As immigrants arrived they settled elsewhere on the island, outside Old Town. Thus Old Town remained an area of Muslim, Arab, Twelve Tribes, and Indian concentration, while the newer settlements, called Majengo, for the most

part attracted Christians, other non-Muslims, and recent coastal Muslim migrants.*" Whereas Old Town contained Mombasa’s wealthy families, in Majengo the poor predominated. Old Town’s coral stone buildings contrasted with Majengo’s shanties. Thus residence became a mark of status difference, so that even now people of Old Town are

proud of living myjini, “in the town,” in contrast to those who live in Majengo.*” This neighborhood rivalry, expressed in women’s dance

associations in Mombasa, is characteristic of other Swahili towns as well.*°

The colonial government promoted racial categorization, which exacerbated local antipathies between people of different religions and ethnic backgrounds. Representation on the Legislative Council 30. Berg, ““Mombasa,’’ p. 85; Hyder Kindy, p. 2; Lambert, Chi-Jomvu, p. 100.

Interviews with Zubeda Salim, Fatma Saidi. These neighborhood groupings existed in Lamu also, el-Zein, pp. 11-17, passim. 31. Leo Silberman, “The Social Survey of the Old Town of Mombasa,” Journal of African Administration 2 (January 1950), 16; De Blij, p. 74. 32. Regarding the difference between Old Town and Majengo, one anonymous wornan said: “There are people of Majengo who compete with one another [in dance associations] but not the way people of Old Town [watu

wa mi] do; Majengo people are another kind, bush Swahili [Waswehili mwitu |.” 33. Lienhardt, “Introduction,” pp. 18-20; A. H. J. Prins, Didemic Lamu (Groningen: Institut voor Culturele Antropologie der Rijksuniversiteit, 1971); T. O. Ranger, Dance and Society in Eastern Africa: The Beni Ngoma (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975); el-Zein, p. 174.

34. Hyder Kindy’s autobiography is one man’s view of the ethnic rivalries of the colonial period. For a summary, see Ahmed Idha Salim, “‘‘Native or

|N

MAINLAND MAINLAND

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. / INDIAN QCEAN Map 3. Mombasa

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 39 (Legco) was apportioned by community. For example, in 1920, the European settlers held eleven elective seats, Indians and Arabs each

had one nominated seat, and Africans were supposed to be represented by the official members of the Legco.*> Not only did this method of representation greatly overrepresent settler interests, it also encouraged the other three communities jealously to guard their gains. Each resented an improvement in status that accrued to another ethnic group. Moreover, for purposes of taxation and the enforcement of some laws, “‘natives’ were differentiated from “‘nonnatives,” a distinction that was particularly difficult to make on the coast. The discrimination reached even to the prisons, where “Asiatics’’ and Arabs ate rice and meat, costing the government twenty-five cents a day, while “Swahilis, Wanyika [Mijikenda] and up-country natives’ ate beans and maize for fifteen cents a day.*° Until 1910 Arabs, members of the Twelve Tribes, and others of mixed background were treated alike, all subject to the three-rupee hut tax, which had been set in

1901. But from 1910 to 1912 Arabs and those who could satisfactorily prove substantial Arab ancestry were exempted.°’ The attempt to separate people who had intermarried over decades and centuries inevitably raised hostilities. When the government introduced the nonnative poll tax of fifteen rupees in 1912, various Arabs pleaded poverty, unimpressed with the prestige accorded them as “nonnatives.”°® Omar bin Namaan Basheikh refused to pay the nonnative tax, claiming that his mother and his father’s mother were “Swahili” women, although his grandfather was Arab.*? By the Non-Native?’ The Problem of Identity and the Social Stratification of the Arab-Swahili of Kenya,” Hadith 6, History and Social Change in East Africa (1976), 65-85. 35. Salim, Peoples, p. 178. 36. KNA 8/157, Malindi District Annual Report 1912/13. 37. Salim, Peoples, p. 189. 38. KNA LMU/11, Lamu District Annual Report 1912/13, pp. 2-3.

39. He lost the court case. The judges, interestingly, did not base their decision on the fact that his paternal grandfather was Arab, even though in Muslim law patriliny determines one’s status. Rather they found that he had substantial Asiatic blood. Omar bin Namaan Basheikh v. Rex, Civil Appeal 20/1919, FALR 8, p. 59.

40 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY early 1920s Arabs were nonnatives by general definition for tax purposes, but they were natives under the Criminal Procedure Ordinance of 1914, and thus subject to corporal punishment just like “an ordinary native,’ as one administrator put it. “Swahili” were classified as natives for most ordinances.” The split between the Arabs and the Twelve Tribes opened wide in 1927. Formerly men from both communities were members of the

Coast Arab Association (CAA), which had formed in 1921 in opposition to an Arab liwali, Ali bin Salim Bu Saidi, who was charged with ignoring the interests of most coastal people as the Arab nominated member of the Legco.”’ In 1927 when the Twelve Tribes were barred from voting for the now elected Arab member of

the Legco, they withdrew from the CAA to form the Afro-Asian Association (AAA). The remaining Arabs regrouped into the Arab Association (AA), Politics penetrated religion as the Twelve Tribes established their own Friday mosque, despite the Muslim prescription that men of the whole community should worship together on Fridays.*? By 1934, persons who could prove before a magistrate

that one parent was of nonnative descent could press a claim for nonnative status, thus opening the possibility for Twelve Tribes claims. But implementation floundered, in part because of the bureaucratic difficulty of distinguishing lower-class from upper-class Twelve Tribes members. The categorization was, after all, hierarchical, and its value would be lost by the inclusion of ex-slaves or coastal

Africans who had become part of the Twelve Tribes. Until World War II bickering continued about whether Twelve Tribes persons should be allowed to claim Arab status as nonnatives. Technically, 40. Salim, Peoples, p. 188; KNA Coast 1/55/1479. Senior Coast Commissioner to Chief Native Commissioner, 1.12.21; Salim, “‘Native,”’ p. 72.

41. For more information see A. I. Salim’s biographical sketch in Kenya Historical Biographies, ed. A. I. Salim and K. King (Nairobi: University of Nairobi, 1971), pp. 112-41. Ali bin Salim is the son of Salim bin Khalfan; see below, chapter 3, note 133.

42. Salim, Peoples, pp. 188-189. Carol M. Eastman and F. J. Berg, “An Early Swahili Political Manifesto,” Afrika and Ubersee 51, no. 3 (1968), 22437. This and other events are described in Hyder Kindy, chapter 4, especially p. 32. For similar developments see Abner Cohen, Custom and Politics in Urban Africa: A Study of Hausa Migrants in Yoruba Towns (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969).

THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY 4) ‘“Swahili’’ were given Arab status in 1952, but relations between the two communities remained strained.**

During the 1920s, and in particular the 1930s, “racial politics reigned supreme.”™ Racial categorization extended into education,

where separate schools were established for Europeans, Indians, Arabs, and Africans. Quality and quantity followed the social ladder.

Similarly, wages and the quality of government-provided housing correlated with these four categories.** The increased competition for jobs and housing during the depression years may have con-

tributed to ethnic tensions, though many of the reported fights occurred after the harshest days had passed.*° By the 1930s Mombasa had become a modern city. Integrated into a world economy, the port experienced a slowdown in trade during

the depression, resulting in layoffs and reduced wages. Strikes in 1939 signified a new political consciousness among Mombasa’s

workers. Price inflation and the European military presence of World War II gave way to political unrest represented by an elevenday general strike in 1947.*7 Despite this, Mombasa was not drawn into the violent struggles of the Emergency (Mau Mau) during the 1950s. In fact, when the nationalist significance of the up-country movement became evident to coastal Muslims, the reaction of some was to declare their loyalty to the British.** Fearing domination by up-country Africans in the event of independence, various factions of coastal Muslims pushed for coastal autonomy in the ““Mwambao” movement, beginning around 1956.” Ignoring the numbers of nonMuslim residents on the coast and the extent to which the Colony 43. Salim, “Native,” p. 77, for class differences among the Hadrami, pp. 7879; Salim, Peoples, pp. 230-31. 44. Salim, Peoples, p. 200. 45. Salim, “Native,” p. 75. 46. See above, note 29; Janmohamed, “Ethnicity,” pp. 200-01. 47. Janmohamed, “Ethnicity,” pp. 202-03.

48. Liwali for the Coast, Salim bin Mohamed Muhashamy: ‘Arabs in the Coast Protectorate have always loyally cooperated with the British Government and the British Government can look safely to the Arab population for continued friendship and loyalty,’ Mombasa Times, 4.2.60. 49. See Salim, Peoples, pp. 219, 231-44. Also A. I. Salim, “The Movement for ‘Mwambao’ or Coast Autonomy in Kenya 1956-63,” in Hadith 2 (1970), 212-28.

42 THE DEVELOPMENT OF MOMBASA SOCIETY and Protectorate functioned as an economic unit, the Mwambao advocates argued that the coast deserved autonomous administration.

The British government refused their claims and granted political independence in 1963 to the Colony and Protectorate as a single unit, Kenya.

As part of an independent Kenya, politics in Mombasa have proceeded within the context of Kenya’s national political struggles. Coastal people’s concern about domination continues. Muslims dislike being a minority religion subject to a non-Muslim legal system and non-Muslim culture. And they, along with coastal Christians and traditionalists, resent the dominance of Kikuyu, Luo, and other upcountry groups in national government.

Over the years Mombasa has absorbed a succession of new peoples, customs, products, and rulers. But the changes of the last two generations have proceeded more rapidly. Demographically, Mombasa has exploded. It is now part of a worldwide economic network, expanded from the Indian Ocean system of earlier times.

Arab sailors, who for centuries visited during the weeks before the monsoon changed and carried them back home, now share the

town with sunburned German tourists who fly a charter from Cologne to Mombasa to escape the European winter for a few weeks.

Not only is change quickening, it is now penetrating more deeply the sphere of women.

50. For a survey of Kenyan politics, see Cherry Gertzel, The Politics of Independent Kenya 1963-68 (Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1970). For Mombasa, see Richard Stren, ‘“Factional Politics and Central Control in Mombasa, 1960-1969,” Canadian Journal of African Studies 4, no. 1 (1970), 33-56; Hyder Kindy, chapters 16-18. For economic change since independence, see Colin Leys, Underdevelopment in Kenya: The Political Economy of Neocolonialism, 1964-1971 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1974).

3

Coastal Society: Slavery and Male-Female Relations At the turn of the century Mombasa was a stratified society with patriarchal and class structures of authority. Central to the ideologi-

cal system that buttressed this society, the principle of hierarchy located slaves and women below freeborn men. But the dominant ideology represented the wishes of slaveowners and men as much as the reality of their control: the behavior of women and slaves often diverged from the patriarchal ideal. Moreover, colonialism altered

the class and patriarchal structures of the precolonial period and further eroded the domestic and public authority of the Muslim community’s leading men.

The relationship between slavery and sexual asymmetry, or male dominance, is complex. The categories of slave and female are not congruent, for some women were slaveowners. Still, slaves and women occupied parallel positions of subordination, legally and ideologically. A revealing proverb converges this subordination: hakuna mkika mwungwana (there is no wellbred/freeborn woman). Mwungwana is a freeborn person, one whose behavior accords with high standards of sophistication, civilization, and breeding. Through

this proverb an ideology that held being an mwungwana as the highest compliment denied the possibility of that state to women and slaves alike.’ 1.1 thank Marc Swartz for this proverb. James de Vere Allen suggests that the attachment of nonslave status to uungwana may have been a Zanzibari Arab overtone and cites a case where a former slave was called mwungwana. “Swahili Culture Reconsidered: Some Historical Implications of the Material

Culture of the Northern Kenya Coast in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” Azania 9 (1974), 132-35. 43

44 COASTAL SOCIETY _ Slavery Although slavery was abolished in 1907, its legacy continued to influence social relations. High social status depended on having a patriline of free men who had been on the coast for some time and to whom one could refer with pride. If slaves became Muslims and

partook of Swahili culture through contact with their owners, slaveowners grew darker in color as a result of taking slave women as wives and concubines. Religion and color separated the freeborn and the slave less and less, yet social distinctions remained. Lightness and straight hair were thought beautiful and were taken as evidence

of Arab ancestry.2 The stigma of slavery continued after slavery itself disappeared.

Although ancestry and wealth stratified people, social divisions were not based solely on class. People participated in groupings called jJamaa that were headed most often by a man. Slaveowners collected

followers from among poor relatives, slaves, and ex-slaves to be mobilized against rival groups headed by other slaveowners. Slaves

looked to their owners for protection and support that in their natal societies would have come from kin. Freed slaves were incor-

porated as the maskini (poor people), watu (people), or watoto (children) of their former owner.’ A letter from Mbarak bin Rashid Mazrui, a leader of anti-British resistance on the coast, illustrates how slaves were considered an integral part of his jamaa and, furthermore, suggests that women may have utilized the coming of the British to escape the control of men who exercised power over them. Mbarak 2. In Lamu, children of two freeborn parents were considered to be of higher

social status than the child of a freeborn man and a concubine. El-Zein, p. 31, passim. This differentiation, though probably present, was not as important elsewhere on the coast. Color preferences were expressed in the choice of concubines by the richest masters; Ethiopians, Circassians, and Georgians were highly prized. Cooper, p. 198. 3. Cooper, p. 247. Clientage is common in Muslim countries. For regulations regarding clientage, see R. Brunschvig, under “Abd,” Encyclopedia of Islam

(London: Luzac, 1960), p. 30. Cooper (pp. 194, 200) points to the small number of runaways among older slaves and the confidence of owners in arming their slaves as evidence of the successful incorporation of slaves into the followings of their owners.

COASTAL SOCIETY 45 bin Rashid admonished the new British administrator J. R. W. Pigott

to enforce the Islamic principle of kafaa, under which women are supposed to marry someone of their own rank or better: “If any Mazrui woman either free or slave comes to you to tell that she is going to get married to a man other than her own caste you will

please not allow this....’* In addition to jamaa, other important social units included wider communal groupings that shared a sense of common origin, opposition to outsiders, and often residence (for example the Three Tribes and the Nine Tribes). Moreover, ethnic groups, each embracing several communal groups, were differentiated by language or religion (for example, many Hadrami Arabs, or nineteenth-century Omani Arabs who remained Ibadi and spoke Arabic). The slave system was supported by an ideology of slave inferiority, which demanded slave deference. Similar to the Western conceptualization of savagery and civilization, this ideology portrayed slaves as inherently inferior, incapable of attaining a freeborn person’s level of learning and unable to achieve religious purity. Their state of nature, disorder, and impurity contrasted with the culture, order, and purity that characterized freeborn people.°> Freeborn disdain is reflected in nineteenth-century proverbs: “‘A slave’s custom is to talk; a freeborn person’s, to act.” Or, “The cat is never satisfied with rice; her quest is rats,” meaning that one cannot expect a lower-class person to find pleasure in exalted pursuits. Or, “‘A slave is a brute beast, an enemy of God and the Prophet.’ Reflecting this assumption of inferiority, slaves were expected to defer to their social superiors. The slave’s greeting, “Shikamoo”’ (I clasp your feet), was a way of humbling

oneself. Similarly, slaves were forbidden to wear shoes in the presence of their owners.’ Contemporary European observers noted that east African slavery was more paternalistic and less exploitative than slave systems in the 4. Emphasis added. KNA Coast 1/67/14, 9.11.1894, letter 6/125. See also Cooper, p. 248. 5. El-Zein, pp. 27-28, passim. 6. William E. Taylor, African Aphorisms (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1891), no. 1, p. 1, no. 351, p. 78. 7.C. Guillain, Documents sur l’Histoire, la Géographie et le Commerce de l'Afrique Orientale (Paris: Arthus Bertrand, 1856), 2, pt. 1: 84.

46 COASTAL SOCIETY New World.® Even in plantation areas such as Malindi’s grain and Zanzibar’s clove fields in the mid-nineteenth century, the incentive to maximize production was not as strong as in the southern United States or the Caribbean. Elsewhere on the coast slaves were prized as a means of displaying wealth more than as a means of production. The absence of a strong coercive force to capture and return runaways made escape to a new protector, if not to freedom, a constant possibility and hence set limits on slaveowners’ treatment of slaves. Furthermore, “‘slaves were able to play an important part in defining the perimeters of paternalism,” argues Frederick Cooper, “because slaveholders relied on their skill as well as on their brawn, because

masters had high expectations of slaves’ personal loyalty, and because slaveowners lacked the physical and political strength to control escape by force alone.”” Furthermare, slaves exercised their legal right to marry and, at least theoretically, could complain to judicial authorities about excessive mistreatment. By Islamic law slave status brought reduced responsibilities along with reduced rights. For example, a male slave was allowed only half as many wives (two), but he also suffered only half the punishment for a

comparable crime committed by a free person. An owner was obliged to convert slaves to Islam, and manumission at the owner’s death or in expiation of a particular sin, which was seen as an act of

piety, was common.’° :

Despite these meliorating features, slavery involved capture, loss of freedom, dislocation, readjustment, vulnerability, punishments, and dependence on an owner’s kindness and good will. These experiences are illustrated by the life stories of slaves or freed slaves, even those

who found a measure of autonomy and financial well-being within

the institution of slavery.’ For example, in 1921 a young 8. Cooper discusses paternalism (pp. 154-56) and evaluates slavery in Mombasa and Malindi in particular (pp. 170-82). 9. Pp. 211-12. 10. Brunschvig, p. 27; Cooper, pp. 164-65, 215-16, 242-46. There is little quantitative evidence, but land office records and deeds offer many examples of freed slaves. The absence of acculturated slaves among runaways may have been due to a high rate of manumission of slaves who had served several years. Cooper, p. 200. 11. Cooper, pp. 153-212, covers the gamut of the slave’s experience. More slave narratives should be collected, but the following provide some insights

COASTAL SOCIETY 47 Maasai woman, Zaru binti Abdalla, told her story to a colonial administrator: I was taken when a small child from my village in Kilimanjaro. I

was a Masai, I was taken to Mombasa, by whom I know not. When a small girl I became one of the household of an Indian, I was a small girl and did house hold work. I do not know if I was sold to this Indian or not, he is now dead.

Her second owner, Ali bin Salehe, eventually married her. Under Shafi’i law a man must free his own slave before marrying her. However, coming from Masqat, Ali bin Salehe was probably of the Ibadi sect, which allows a man to marry his slave without condition of freedom.!”

Ali bin Salehe, a Muscati, took me with the Indian’s consent, | was still small. He gave me a paper. When I grew up the Arab Ali bin Salehe ... took me as his wife, I was not a suria [concubine] for I had a writing from the Indian.’* At first Ali bin Salehe kept me as though I was a suria.

I then went to Muscat with Ali bin Salehe and stayed there eight years. At Muscat I was married to Ali bin Salehe. It is now

four or five years ago, my mahr [bridewealth] was [rupees?] 80/-, 40/- of which I received, 40/- of which is not [yet] paid.'*

The two traded in the interior, and Zaru binti Abdalla invested her profits in the gold and silver jewelry that coastal women characteristically wear.

into the experiences of slaves: Marcia Wright, ‘Women in Peril: A Commentary upon the Life Stories of Captives in Nineteenth-Century East-Central Africa,” African Social Research 20 (December 1975), 800-19; W. F. Baldock, “The Story of Rashid bin Hassani of the Bisa Tribe, Northern Rhodesia,” in Yen Africans, ed. Margery Perham (London: Faber and Faber, 1936), pp. 81-119; Mbotela; A. C. Madan, Kiungani, Or Story and History from Central Africa (London: Bell, 1887).

12. Reuben Levy, The Social Structure of Islam (1957; reprint, London: Cambridge University Press, 1971), p. 69.

13. The papers to which she refers might be documents of her freedom, although her failure to state clearly that she was free implies that she was still a slave.

14. See below, note 45.

48 COASTAL SOCIETY Before we went to Muscat we had been trading at Baringo [in the

Rift Valley] old Boma in Mr. Archer’s time (1909). Ali bin Salehe has been trading in ivory I in goat skins, etc. In all I made [rupees?] 400/- of my own money in this fashion. When we were in Muscat we changed our monies into “real ya Sham” and Ali bin Salehe took my 400/-, in which he gave me a writing. Recently when at Njemps [in the northern Rift Valley] Ali bin Salehe left me in the bush took all my writings, he took my silver earrings, my gold necklace, my gold bangles, my two anklets of silver. He said he would be back in a month. Ali bin Salehe is said to be at Karpeddo now.’°

Although she does not mention physical mistreatment, she had little recourse against her husband’s appropriation of the earnings, jewelry, and papers that were legally hers. Rather than sue her husband in court, she ran away, and perhaps eventually settled in Nairobi as did many women who no longer fit into their natal societies.'© Whether out of pride or as an assertion of her rights, Zaru binti Abdalla firmly insisted that she was a wife, not a concubine.

Slavery and male dominance converged in the institution of concubinage.'’ Though offering stiff penalties—death by stoning—for illegal sexual intercourse, Muslim law allowed men several avenues for licit sexual activity. In addition to four wives, a freeborn man 15.KNA Jud 1/673, Acting District Commissioner, Eldama Ravine, to Attorney General, 7.11.21.

16.KNA Jud 1/673, Assistant District Commissioner, Kabarnet, to the Acting District Commissioner, Eldama Ravine, 10.9.21. See Janet M. Bujra,

“Women ‘Entrepreneurs’ of Early Nairobi,” Canadian Journal of African Studies 9, no. 2 (1975), 213-34.

17. El-Zein (pp. 30-32, 73, 212, 312) argues that concubinage seriously threatened the principle of equality in marriage held by Lamu’s freeborn. The children of concubines and freeborn men were anomalous within the belief system and social structure. One subtle difference between the status of wives and concubines appears in a court case. Mariamu claimed to be the daughter of Liwali Abdalla bin Hamed by his concubine Zahra. The court dismissed the

claim, arguing, among other things, that sexual intercourse had not been proven between Zahra and Abdalla bin Hamed, only “‘private company.’’ Had the issue involved a wife, not a concubine, proof of private company would imply intercourse, since the purpose of marriage is procreation. HC, Khalifa bin Mohamed bin Hamed v. Sharia, Kadhi’s Court, Lamu, Civil Case 56/1911.

COASTAL SOCIETY 49 could take an unlimited number of concubines, literally masuria (women for pleasure), though there were restrictions on marrying a slave concubine. Muslim law attempted to balance a consideration of man’s sexual desires with a need for maintaining social order. Thus,

marriage to a woman of equal social status was preferred, but marriage to a slave was allowed in some situations. If a man was too poor to produce the mahari (bridewealth) for a free woman, or if he

would be unchaste as a bachelor, he could marry a Muslim slave woman owned by someone else. But he could not take a slave wife if he already had a freeborn wife, and under Shafi’i law he could not marry his own slave without first freeing her.'®

Concubinage appears to have been widespread. Evidence from folktales indicates that artisans as well as rich men owned masuria."” Some men, including those from noted Mombasa clans, married their concubines and at times offered a large bridewealth. For example, Hamis bin Said bin Sheik El-Mombasa of the Nine Tribes, gave “to Norweza, his freed slave girl, one kitanda (bed), 2 bedsteads, 9 looking glasses, plates, cups, 2 kettles, [1] pair of mtali [ankle bangles],

2 chairs, 2 lamps, a silver chain, 1 box [and the front part] of a house, where she is living.”*? Other men could afford wives in addition to concubines, as with Ahmad bin Sheik, who kept seven masuria along with his two wives.” The price of concubines, which might run to ten times the cost of a laborer, suggests that they were a means of displaying wealth in a society with few other forms of investment.”? 18. Different law schools vary in details. This description applies to Shafi’i law, under which most coastal Muslims lived. Brunschvig, p. 27; Levy, pp. 79, 105; Joseph Schacht, An Introduction to Islamic Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), p. 163. 19. Swahili, sing. suria. A carpenter in “‘Sultan Darai,” in Swahili Tales, ed.

Edward Steere (London: Bell and Daldy, 1870), pp. 11-137; and “The RatCatcher,” in Myths and Legends of the Swahili, ed. Jan Knappert (London: Heinemann Educational Books, 1970), pp. 136-37. Knappert states that most

of these stories come from Arabic manuscripts from as far back as the eighteenth century. The “more worldly” stories were collected from 1961 to 1964. 20. LO B 2, 1896/17; see also LO B 1897/136; LO B 4, 1900/52. 21. HC, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 24/1904. Burton (1:394) describing Zanzibar in the 1850s, claimed that few men had more than one Arab wife. 22. Cooper, pp. 182, 195-96.

50 COASTAL SOCIETY Concubinage brought advantages to the women as well as to their masters. They received “rights and privileges not accorded to other , female slaves.”*° They could not be sold during the lifetime of their 4 master and on his death were freed if they had given birth to a child + by him. Nonetheless, although they could not be sold, they could be married off to someone else, as in the case of Sadeh, the concubine of Mwenye Hamis bin Vali. Because they quarreled, her owner gave Sadeh in marriage to another man.” The fate of those concubines who remained in the household but retired from the master’s special interest was described by Judge R. W. Hamilton in 1907: “when they become old or the master tires of them he turns them

out of the harem and they sink into the subordinate positions of cooks, nurses, water drawers, etc.’ Families that included both wives and concubines could be tumultuous. Jealousy is evident in one nineteenth-century folktale in which the angry wife tells her husband to go live with his concubine

because she wants a divorce.”© In real life, some widows sued in court to exclude the children of concubines as legal heirs, thereby

increasing the amount of the estate for their own children.*’ A concubine might provide pleasure, but her loyalty was not as strong as a wife’s according to another folk story about a rat-catcher who 23. KNA Jud 1/201, R. W. Hamilton, High Court Judge, to R. M. Coomb, Attorney General, 5.9.07. 24. A concubine who bore a child was termed umm-al-walad (Ar.). Joseph

Schact, under “Umm-al-walad,” Encyclopedia of Islam (London: Luzac, 1934), p. 1012; Muhammed Kassim Mazrui, Historia ya Utumwa Katika Uislamu na Dini Nyengine (A history of slavery in Islam and other religions), (Nairobi: Islamic Foundation, 1970), p.6. From all available evidence these women were treated like freeborn wives (Cooper, p. 196). Regarding marriage, see Levy, p. 80. A child, born seven or eight months after Sadeh’s marriage, later in life tried unsuccessfully to claim part of Mwenye Hamis’s estate as an heir. Sadeh had not waited the prescribed period to prove that she was not pregnant before having sexual intercourse with her new husband. The judge ruled that any child born more than six months after marriage was assumed to be the offspring of the husband and therefore denied the child’s claim. HC, Fatuma binti Shabeck v. Aisha binti Vali and Nyanya binti Khamis, Town Magistrate’s Court, Civil Case 341/1902, and Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 23/1902. See also

EALR |, pp. 44-46. 25. KNA Jud 1/201, to R. M. Coomb, Attorney General, 5.9.07. 26. “Sultan Darai,” in Steere, pp. 11-137. 27. See note 24. Fatuma binti Shabeck was the widow in this case.

COASTAL SOCIETY 51 had botha wife and a suria. The wife complained constantly, but one day when the man was chased home by a lion, it was the wife who saved him by throwing a spear at the lion. The concubine ran away. In reality, as in fiction, concubines did run away, most often because they were discontented.*8 In 1907 slavery was abolished on the Kenyan coast; however, concubinage was not included as a form of slavery under this ordinance. The abolition ordinance was amended in 1909 to ensure continued

financial support of concubines and to free them under certain conditions. Moreover, the government agreed to compensate former owners for their slaves, to settle some freed slaves, and to support old and feeble freed slaves.?°

For nearly twenty years after abolition some owners refused to relinquish control of their freed slaves. Several claimed the inheritance from their former slaves as Islamic law allows. The matter of marriages of slaves freed by the 1907 ordinance became the focus of this struggle. The owners’ resistance indicates not only the difficulty

of legislating real social change but also the slow pace at which custom was transformed. As one judge remarked: “It is not a little startling that in a Mombasa Court in 1922 one can still hear such phrases as ‘she is my slave,’ ‘the owner of a slave’ spoken apparently

in all seriousness.”°' The former owners’ case rested on a master’s 28. “The Rat-Catcher,” in Knappert, Myths, pp. 136-37. For runaways see KNA Coast 1/67/14, Mohamed bin Sudi bin Mbarak El-Mazuruhi to Bwana Crauford, 14.12.1898; and Zaru binti Abdalla, p. 48. 29. Salim, pp. 110-11; Ordinance no. 6 of 1909, Special Gazette of the East Africa Protectorate 11, no. 232a (Official Gazette, 1909, p. 306a). For com_- pensation, see FALR 2, pp. 70, 113; 3, p. 84. See also Special Gazette of the East Africa Protectorate 11, no. 224a, p. 1851; KNA 64/260, Takaungu Sub-

District Annual Report 1911/12, pp. 1-2; KNA 22/177, Malindi District Annual Report 1915/16, p. 5, and Takaungu Sub-District Annual Report 1915/16; KNA 8/157, Takaungu Sub-District Annual Report 1912/13, p. 18.

30. Cooper, p. 236; for instances of owners inheriting from their former slaves, or claiming the right to do so, see Mariam binti Matano, PA 126/1912;

Rex v. Fatuma binti Mohamed and Asia binti Athman, Civil Appeal 195

and 196/1942, Law Reports of Kenya 20, pt. 2, p. 45; EALR 3, p. 16; LO B 2, 1896/42. Regarding the legal status of slaves see Brunschvig, pp. 24-40. 31. Bidoda binti Abdalla v. Rex, Criminal Appeal 1/1922, EAZR 9, pp. 1618.

52 COASTAL SOCIETY legal right to authorize the marriage of his male or female slave. On receiving permission, a male slave gave his master a gift of two rupees called kilemba (turban), a gift of respect to a superior.** After 1907 problems of legal interpretation significantly affected the lives of slaves freed by the ordinance. Several makadhi refused, lacking the consent of the former masters, to marry government-freed slaves. The makadhi of Mombasa and Lamu and the Sheikh-ul-Islam, or legal advisor on Muslim law, joined several former slaveowners in arguing that a secular leader could not force an individual slaveholder to free slaves; this privilege could only be exercised freely by a slaveholder. _ Thus, while slaves might be free in the government’s eyes under the 1907 ordinance, religious law did not recognize any change in the relationship between slave and owner. According to Suleiman bin Ali, the kadhi of Mombasa, the marriage of such a slave without the (ex-) owner’s permission “‘is an adultery, and I cannot marry them[,] to be the person to open the way of committing adultery, and if the Government has ordered this against the Mohamedan law, I cannot obey it.’’°°

The refusal of various makadhi to register the marriages of former slaves in this category prompted several court cases. One significant and complex case involved Salama, the sixteen-year-old daughter of

a slave mother and free father. Before his death her father had acknowledged Salama as his child but had no proof that he had bought her mother, thus making her legally his concubine. With this 32. Levy, p. 79; Brunschvig, p. 27; Mervyn Beech, “On Slavery,” from “On Swahili Life,” unpublished MS available in the Fort Jesus Archive in Mombasa. A female slave owner presumably could not act in this capacity. Kilemba was

also given by a bridegroom to his freeborn bride’s father (Steere, p. 493; Taylor, Aphorisms, p. 113). On Mafia Island kilemba is still given to the groom’s father (Caplan, Choice, p. 33). 33. Written c. 18.1.11. KNA Jud 1/641. Not all schools of law held identical

positions on this matter. The Ibadi authority in Zanzibar, Sheik Ali bin Mohamed el-Manthiri, argued that: (1) anon-Muslim could buy and emancipate slaves, who then held the same rights as free people; (2) someone taking money relinquished rights over a slave; (3) sales were unlikely to have been coerced, and even if they had been, the aim was honorable under Islam; (4) the kadhi could be dismissed if he disagreed with the government’s position. KNA Coast

1/5/322, letter to Ali bin Salim, 8.3.14. See also opinions relayed by Judge R. W. Hamilton to the ADC, Lamu, KNA Jud 1/402, 16.5.08.

COASTAL SOCIETY 53 proof, Salama would have been free, since the offspring of a free father and his concubine was legally free. However, the child of a free man and a slave not his own was the property of the concubine’s owner. Thus it was argued that Salama was the slave daughter of a female slave owned by the deceased Nana Mazawa binti Matari and that Salama’s legal guardian was Nana Mazawa’s son, who inherited

responsibility for Bi Nana’s slaves. The ordinance of 1907, it was argued, did not have the effect of Bi Nana voluntarily freeing her slaves, and thus the relationship between Salama and her guardianmaster was unaffected. In one of the few instances in which a slave’s view of the issue is recorded, Salama refused to ask for her alleged .

guardian’s permission to marry, declaring that she was ‘a free. woman” and such a request would “damage her hismah” (dignity).°>

Salama’s case was by no means the only instance of a kadhi’s refusal to allow freed slaves to marry without their former master’s permission. The practice continued at least until 1922, and rumors

of it persisted until 1928, twenty years after abolition. The issue apparently faded away rather than being dealt with decisively. By 1928 the chief kadhi accepted that the effect of individual voluntary

manumission and of the 1907 ordinance was the same: the slave became a free person with the associated rights.*° 34. Brunschvig, p. 26; Levy, p. 79. Moreover, Salama’s mother was the slave of Salama’s father’s freeborn wife, Nana Mazawa binti Matari. Having sexual relations with one’s wife’s slave is a breach of law for some legal schools; this may have influenced the court’s decision. 35. Salama claimed to be free not by virtue of her father’s free status but rather under the sultan’s 1890 decree that all children born after 1890 were free. The decree remained unenforced. For Salama’s case see the several letters in KNA Jud 1/402. 36. Bidoda binti Abdalla v. Rex, Criminal Appeal 7/122, EALR 9, pp. 16-18. See also the correspondence, KNA Jud 1/641, Judge Hamilton to town magis-

trate, Mombasa, 18.1.11; KNA Coast 1/2/84, Registrar of Slaves to Chief Secretary, Nairobi, 5.3.12; KNA Coast 1/5/322, District Commissioner, Mombasa, to Provincial Commissioner, Coast, 5.8.13; KNA Coast 1/5/322, Barth, 25.16.14. The acting chief secretary authorized the kadhi to assent to the marriage of ex-slaves without the permission of the former masters. KNA Coast 1/5/322, Circular 57, 3.7.14; 1928 correspondence, KNA Jud 1/859; Justice G. H. Pickering to Chief Justice Barth, 11.5.28, relating the chief kadhi’s opinions. Former owners were allowed to act as guardians in marriage

and to inherit from former slaves in the ninth degree, that is, following the

54 COASTAL SOCIETY Thus, after twenty years slaveowners ceased to argue the legal issues raised by the abolition of slavery. Ex-slaves could marry without obtaining the permission of their former owners. Compensation cases ceased to harass the government, and most of the older freed slaves died, leaving only a few to be provided for. Not unexpectedly, however, the ideology of social hierarchy and the stigma of slavery

lingered, and abolition brought no sharp break in social relations. Change did come, but its cause lay primarily in Mombasa’s economic and demographic expansion.

Male-Female Relations: The Ideology and the Reality

Sexual asymmetry characterized Mombasa in the period from 1890 to 1930 as it does today. The division of labor by sex was pervasive, laws applied differentially to -men and women, and different norms prescribed male and female behavior. As a refinement of this pattern, however, the ideology of the dominant group appears to have governed the lives of elite men and women more than those of lower-class people.*’? The rigor with which one protected the heshima (dignity and honor) of the women of the family constituted one measure of ustaarabu (civilized behavior). Moreover, the ideology called for male dominance in both the public

and private domains, but upper-class men monopolized public positions of power far more effectively than they controlled private, personal behavior. Women were excluded from public—that is, from sexually integrated, nondomestic activities—by purdah, the practice of veiling and seclusion.*® Barred from contact with men who were

not kin, upper-class women required a male mediator with the first eight categories of preferred heirs. Regarding inheritance by patrons and patronesses, see Brunschvig, p. 30. 37. This phenomenon is not restricted to Mombasa, or to Muslim societies. For preliberation China, Delia Davin describes a similar exchange of high status and relative security for dependence, seclusion, and restricted mobility, marked in particular by the practice of foot-binding. Woman-Work (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), pp. 5-6. 38. Veiling originally applied to the Prophet’s own wives and daughters and was a general practice in the Prophet’s tribe. Under Persian influence, purdah was extended and by 150 years after the Prophet’s death, seclusion was “‘fully established,” according to Levy, pp. 124-27.

COASTAL SOCIETY 55 outside world. However, the elite did not apply such high standards of respectability to lower-class women, who thus had more physical mobility than upper-class women. Similarly, in private or domestic

behavior both the ideology and the reality of male dominance differed substantially by class.

The ideology of male dominance in Swahili society cannot be understood outside the context of Islam. Muslim societies emphasize

different aspects of Islam, depending upon the indigenous matrix into which Islam penetrates.°? In east Africa those verses in the Koran were stressed which declare the weakness of women rather than those which proclaim their spiritual equality. Drawing on verse 4:38, Al-Amin bin Aly Mazrui wrote: God made us male and female, and in her wretchedness He filled women with weakness in body and weakness in thought. In his

bounty He filled men with goodness in strength, great intelligence, and good thoughts, and for this reason He ordained men to be the ones to oversee women in their affairs, to take care of them. As He told us in the Koran: Men shall oversee women. And

the Prophet said: Man is the caretaker of his wife, and it is he

who will be questioned about his care in the afterworld.... Women of course have no fault for what they do, for they know nothing, but all the fault is on men who indeed know good and bad, what is worth doing and what is not.” 39. For an overview of the position of women in Muslim societies, see Nadia Youssef, “Women in the Muslim World,” in Women in the World, ed. Lynne B. Iglitzin and Ruth Ross, Studies in Comparative Politics, no. 6 (Santa Barbara

and Oxford: Clio Books, 1976), pp. 203-17. Youssef points out several general characteristics: women’s “subsidiary” position in the labor force and public life; concern for a woman’s purity as an expression of family honor; and the control of women by their male relatives, who are in turn expected to be responsible for them economically. For the interaction of Islam with local society, see Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968); J. S. Trimingham, Jslam in East Africa (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964); and various essays in I. M. Lewis, ed., Jslam in Tropical Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1966). 40. “Wajibu Wetu kwa Wanawake” (Our duty toward women), Uwongozi (Guidance), 3rd printing (c. 1932; reprint, Mombasa: East African Muslim Welfare Society, 1955), no. 1 (1930), pp. 1-2. See below, note 142. Written in 1930, this essay articulates the attitudes of Mombasa’s Muslim leaders. The

56 COASTAL SOCIETY Islamic doctrine could have been summoned in support of limited women’s rights. But at the turn of the century religious leaders and respectable Muslims expected a proper woman to be religious, chaste, and obedient. Women’s subordinate status is depicted in Swahili Islamic literature

in several ways. Men are thought to be endowed with greater intelligence and judgment (@kili) and thus ought to make the decisions that women must obey. Similarly, women are considered weak, easily falling prey to tricksters. Being more subject to earthly desires, women must be protected from themselves, while men must beware these “lascivious temptresses.”’ These assumptions about the female nature have not led to the conclusion that females are ““bad”’ as such, for the literature applauds a certain category of women— “devout and patient wives.”*! Rather, the assumptions support the

idea that a woman must be protected—by legal rights, by a man mediating between her and the outside world, and by the practice of purdah.

Although women and men were treated unequally, Islamic law defined certain rights of women."? The most important concerned marriage, divorce, and property. Each woman had a guardian, her father or another male relative, whose duty it was to ensure a good match. An adult woman, unlike a young girl, could not be offered in marriage without her consent. And the guardian could only object

to the marriage of a free, adult woman on the ground that she was marrying beneath her status, thus tainting the family’s reputation. pamphlet Uwongozi is still available in bookstores. For a translation of verse

4:38, see Arthur Arberry, The Koran Interpreted (New York: Macmillan, 1955), 2:105-06. 41. Jan Knappert, “Social and Moral Concepts in Swahili Literature,” A frica 40, no. 2 (1970), 131. Fatima Mernissi argues that Islam does not see women as inferior, but rather as dangerous because of their sexuality, which constantly distracts men from their love for Allah. Beyond the Veil (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1975), pp. xvi, passim. 42. For the background to Muslim law and custom regarding women, and the reforms that the Prophet made over current practice, see Levy, pp. 91-134; Mernissi, chapter 3; W. Robertson Smith, Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia (1885; reprint, London: Adam and Charles Black, 1903), pp. 76-128.

COASTAL SOCIETY 57 If her guardian was absent or acted incorrectly, or if she was an orphan, the kadhi became her guardian.*”

Once married, women had the right to be maintained at the standard of living at which they were raised. This legal obligation of maintenance was translated into a customary one in the proverb, “A wife is clothes, a banana-tree is weeding.” The right to maintenance provided one of women’s few grounds for securing a divorce. Though

women could not dismiss their husbands without providing just cause, as could husbands, women did have remedies for escaping an unhappy marriage. A woman could be granted a faskh divorce by the kadhi on grounds of nonmaintenance, impotence, or serious disease 43. For marriage and divorce law, specifically for Shafi’i law, see Schacht, Introduction, passim; Hamed bin Saleh el-Busaidy, Ndoa na Talaka (Marriage and divorce), (Nairobi: East African Literature Bureau, 1958); Arthur Phillips and Henry F. Morris, Marriage Laws in Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), pp. 129-30; Sheikh Abdalla Saleh Farsy, Jawabu za Masuala ya Dini (Answers to questions concerning religion), (Mombasa: Sidik Mubarak, n.d.), 2; Mohamed Kassim Mazrui, Hukumu za Sharia (Judgments on religious law), (Mombasa: City Bookshop, [c. 1970]), 1, pt. 5; Al-Amin bin Aly Maztui, Ndowa na Talaka katika Sharia ya ki-Islamu (Marriage and divorce in Islamic law), (Mombasa: Coast Guardian, 1936). The Swahili booklets are all available in Mombasa bookstores. In one court case a young girl testified that she was married before puberty, giving her consent only after she was beaten

by her brother and mother. Listening to her story, the appeals court was unimpressed and ordered her to return to her husband, thus invalidating the divorce that she had been granted by a lower court. HC, Buhet bin Bilali v. Zuhra binti Buhet, Kadhi’s Court, Kismayu, Civil Case 3/1914, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Appeal 4/1914. For court cases involving the doctrine of equal status, see Fazalan Bibi v. Tehran Bibi, Mohamed Dib Kashmisi, Civil Appeal 2/1921, EALR 8, p. 200; Bi Hemedi binti Abdalla v. Riza Mohamed, Civil Appeal 29/1911, EALR 4, p. 71; HC, Mohamed bin Khamis v. Hamed bin Abdalla bin Hamed, Kadhi’s Court, Lamu, Civil Case 8/1919. See above, note 4. In a case of the kadhi acting as guardian, Amina binti Mohamed married a man three years after puberty of her own will without the consent of her brother, who was her legal guardian although he had not contributed to her maintenance. She was an orphan living with “‘her nurse.’’ The court ruled that the kadhi could give consent in lieu of her brother, who refused to agree to the marriage. HC, Athmani bin Mohamed v. (1) Ali bin Salim and (2) Kadhi Suleiman bin Ali, Liwali’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 21/1914. 44. Taylor, Aphorisms, proverb no. 270a, p. 62; S. 8. Farsi, Swahili Sayings

from Zanzibar, Book One, Proverbs (1958; 2nd ed., Nairobi: East Africa Literature Bureau, 1966), p. 27. For a father’s words to his son regarding marital responsibilities, see Taylor, Aphorisms, no. 186, p. 43.

58 COASTAL SOCIETY such as leprosy. Or, she could ransom herself in khul’u divorce by

giving up claim to the unpaid portion of her bridewealth or by offering money to her husband.* If her husband refused to accept this arrangement, she could make his life miserable until he divorced her out of desperation. As the court told one woman whose husband had just agreed to a khul’u divorce, “‘your husband .. . states that he cannot stay with you owing to your habit [of] talking too much.’”*® Property Ownership

Though granted in the Koran, the right of single and married women to inherit and hold property was easily thwarted in east Africa. To begin with, the Koran limits women’s access to property through inheritance by determining that a female’s share is one-half

that of a male’s share in any estate. Thus, all other things being equal, men would inherit and control two-thirds of society’s property and women one-third. But all things are not equal. The Koran can declare women’s rights to inherit, but it cannot guarantee enforce-

ment of these rights. “In most lands of Islam,” claims one Islamic scholar, “it is the exception rather than the rule for daughters to

inherit, in spite of Koranic prescription.’ Oral and written evidence testify to the difficulties of property ownership on the east 45.It was customary to leave a portion of the mahari unpaid; perhaps as insurance against being divorced, at which time the husband would have to pay the remaining sum, or perhaps so that a large mahari could be set for status

reasons without making it difficult to pay the money. For evidence of “forgiven” bridewealth, see LO B 7, 1906/62; HC, Musa bin Ahmed v. Yaya binti Bakari, Kadhi’s Court, Lamu, Civil Case 23/1912, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Appeal 26/1912; HC, Mariamoo binti Mahomed v. Hassan bin Ahmed Akida, Assistant District Commissioner’s Court, Lamu, Civil Case 236/1908,

High Court, Mombasa, Civil Appeal 3/1909; HC, Mshamu bin Kombo v. wasi of the estate of Aeysha binti Said, Kadhi’s Court, Siyu, Civil Case 5/1919,

High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 13/1919; HC, Awath Awan Ishaka v. Asha binti Jama, Kadhi’s Court, Kismayu, Civil Case 4/1913, High Court, Mombasa,

Appeal 15/1913; Mohamed bin Omar v. Mohamed bin Ali, Civil Appeal 14/1918, EALR 7, pt. 2, p. 165; KNA Coast 1/67/14, letter no. 73/1897 Musa bin Khamis (Mtwapa) to Bwana Crauford. 46. CPA MDS 2/1/II, kadhi, Mombasa, to Khadija binti Mohamed, 28.11.38. For additional cases of khul’u divorce, see LO B 2 1895/78; LOA 9 1901/161;

KNA Jud 1/803; Lali bin Ahmed v. Asha binti Sheikh Ahmed, Civil Appeal 8/1914, FALR 5, p. 165. 47. Levy, p. 245.

COASTAL SOCIETY 59 African coast as well, where the tendency of women not to manage

their property themselves led many to be cheated. Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano recounts how her father’s estate was administered by her father’s brother in the 1890s, because she was too young. By the time she reached majority, the uncle had “eaten it up.” Before the coming of the Europeans, she asserts, the rights of minors were ill-protected against male relatives, Muslim law notwithstanding.*® A

similar case appeared in 1896, in a letter from Binti Seleman bin Jabir to a British administrator of the newly acquired East Africa Protectorate. Binti Seleman’s uncle, who lived in Pemba, took the whole of her father’s estate, including her share of 700 Maria Theresa dollars, because she was “‘small.” Her husband and brother having

died, she wrote, “Govt. only can get it for me... because you are my father & master.’”?

As her phraseology indicates, Binti Seleman and other women perceived the British as new male protectors replacing the old. Furthermore, their attempts to manipulate the new power indicate that these women operated actively to maximize their rights within the patriarchal context. Since Muslim courts did not offer adequate protection to women, they turned to the British authorities for aid. Coming from women more than men, letters of appeal to British 48. Interview. See also HC, Msuo bin Abubokar and Mshamu binti Abubokar v. Mohamed bin Abubokar, Provinical Court, Faza, Appeal 6/1904, where two siblings sued their elder brother who administered their shares in the estate.

49.KNA Coast 1/67/14, Binti Seleman bin Jabir to Bwana Crauford, 25 Rabr 1314 [c. 1896]. Although some women were cheated out of their inheritance, a few were given special consideration, perhaps in recognition of their vulnerability. Some estates employed the Islamic institution of wakf, where inalienable property is set aside for the benefit of a particular person or charity. For example, one Ali bin Khamis bin Ali Mazrui set aside his house for his children to reside in, the females being given preference. Similarly, Hassani

bin Adina and Goshi bin Kapitao each set aside a coconut farm for their daughters. Although this property could not be alienated, the recipients were entitled to use and benefits for life. These examples come from LO A 1904/

181 and KNA MSA/6, Mombasa Political Record Book, vol. 2 [c. 1913]. Caplan (Choice, p. 44), argues that by establishing a wakf for his daughter, a man ensured that she received a larger share than that mandated by the Koran. 50. William Fitzgerald, who investigated the coast to determine its economic potential for Britain, reported three appeals for help, two of which came from women. Travels in the Coastlands of British East Africa and the Islands of Zanzibar and Pemba (London: Chapman and Hall, 1898), p. 278.

60 COASTAL SOCIETY administrators consistently expressed the theme of vulnerability. Whether as a legal minor, an orphan, an old woman, or a widow, a woman was vulnerable to the predations of neighbors, relatives, or officials. Women were themselves predators at times, such as Mwana

Amani’s daughter and Binti Sheik’s nieces in the following cases. And men were sometimes vulnerable: young boys and senile men undoubtedly were cheated as well. But religious law and custom built vulnerability into the woman’s role. By declaring men to be the

overseers of women’s affairs the Koran shifted authority and responsibility to men—husbands, fathers, or brothers. Patriarchal ideology infused the language of these letters. “I have nobody to look after me, except you my ‘Bwana’ [master],” pleaded Mwana Amani.>' Another woman, Sheik [sic] binti Abdalla, was fortunate enough to have remarried so that her new husband could represent her before the government.”

The letters to British officials document attempts to swindle vulnerable women out of their property. Sheik binti Abdalla bin Jabir had temporarily rented out her house, which she had inherited from her father, only to discover later that a neighbor claimed it as his own. In a letter she pleaded, I left my house & rented to Mbarak bin Khamis, went to Mji wa Kale, where my husband was sick until he died. After mo[u]rning I came back to my house. I was told that my house is taken... . I want my house, or else allow me to claim. My husband Gharib bin Ali will appear instead of me.>?

Another letter, from Mwana Amani binti Famao, alleges intrigue not by neighbors but by a daughter and son-in-law. The author’s sense of

vulnerability may have been dramatized to ensure a favorable hearing: 51. KNA Coast 1/67/14, to Bwana Crauford, received 20.6.1896, no. 22, Underlined in the original. 52. KNA Coast 1/67/14, to Bwana Crauford, received 4.7.1896, no. 25. See also no. 23, Said bin Kassim El-Mamiri to Bwana Crauford, received 24.6.1896:

‘“Ridwani bin Hani has taken a plot of ground [that] belongs to Binti Malimo wa Munye Faki.”’ It is striking that in this letter book all the appeals concerning land swindles are from women. 53. See above, note 52.

COASTAL SOCIETY 61 I let you know bwana Kombo bin Malimoo came to me to ask to

marry my daughter named Bibi binti Omar. I gave him my daughter in marriage. Both these made some “shauri’’ [dispute]

and mortgaged my house to the IBEA Coy. I know nothing about it. I am now an old woman and I am not able to spend money poor as I am, besides I have nobody to look after me, except you my “Bwana” [master]! If any misfortune happens to me I must come before you my bwana. Now I put this case in

your charge to punish my daughter and son-in-law. I knew nothing about all this, but few days ago when a notice was sent to me I came to know. Old as I am I shall have no place to live in if my house is taken. I have not received any money from my daughter and son-in-law of the mortgage. Mwana Amani’s daughter and son-in-law have counterparts in the nieces and nephews of one Binti Sheik bin Ahmed. This elderly woman was worth about $6,000, which made her affairs all the more

interesting to the potential heirs. Writing to the government representative in 1897, they apparently sought to have her declared mentally incapable. “We have our Aunt an old woman,” they explained, ‘“‘whose name is binti Sheik bin Ahmed El Malindi her age

is about 80 years & she is senseless now when she was alright she

would not give the property to anyone.” They offered various evidence of her insanity. First, after her daughter died, “she often tr[ied] to run away, saying the house is falling down & so on.” An upstanding citizen found her senseless and moved his daughter in to live with her, so “that our Aunt should give the property to her.” The final sentence clinches their argument: “Will anybody [in her right mind] have her relations and [yet] give the property to outside

people?” Apparently Binti Sheik was intending to do just that, eliciting the anxious answer from her potential heirs.*

If neighbors and relatives were not to be trusted, neither were Muslim officials, judging from the claims of one Mwana Hamisi binti Eusuf, who appealed to the government regarding an 1898 court case 54. See above, note 51. 55. KNA Coast 1/67/14, Mwana Iki Bi Kombo, the children of Hamed bin Sheikh, to Bwana Rogers, 1897, no. 51.

62 COASTAL SOCIETY that she had lost. She claimed ownership of the land under her house,

inherited from her mother and maternal grandmother, who had owned both the house and land for the last hundred years. Adul Ramiani bin Ali sold this land to the liwali. Mwana Hamisi complained to the liwali, hardly a disinterested party, who sent the complaint to Kadhi Suleiman bin Ali, who dismissed her case. The two officials may have been collaborating with Adul Ramiani, since men in these positions were not beyond using their office in financial dealings. On the other hand, Mwana Hamisi may have been trying for whatever she could get.*°

It is clear from these letters that women did not escape the intrigue, or fitina, so often noted by Europeans and by coastal people themselves. Neighbors and relatives alike schemed to deprive a person of property, and the vulnerable fell before the powerful. To be old, alone, and female was to be the most vulnerable of all.

Property ownership provided income for wealthier women and

did not cost them their respectability. But property had to be managed and protected, and secluded women were ill-fitted for these tasks. Although purdah was supposed to protect women, propriety

inhibited women from managing their property and thus obliged them to rely on male overseers. Emily Ruete, a Zanzibari princess, wrote in 1881 that since the female of rank was “not allowed to speak to her own officials and managers, if these be Arabs, she [was] often robbed by them.” She herself knew ‘“‘several ladies who only married to save themselves from being at the mercy of these frauds

and imposters.’°’ Finding an overseer was easy for some women.

Bijuma binti Khamis bought a farm and turned it over to her nephew to manage.** Similarly, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano’s 56. KNA Coast 1/67/14, to Bwana Crauford (c. 1898), no. 26.

57. Memoires of an Arabian Princess (2nd ed., 1886; reprint, New York: D. Appleton and Comp., 1888), p. 150. This quote does not represent the ideas of a convert to Western society. Much of her book is intended to dispel notions about the oppressed lives of Muslim women. Janet M. Bujra discusses

female dependency and property in “Production, Property, Prostitution. ‘Sexual Politics’ in Atu,”’ Cahiers d’Etudes A fricaines 65 (1977), 23, 25-27.

58. HC, Hassan bin Dunkel (Somali) v. Mwenye bin Said (the nephew), Town Magistrates’ Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 5801/1907, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 9/1902.

COASTAL SOCIETY 63 father was raised by an aunt who had him manage her farms and trade for food north of Mombasa. The aunt appears to have been a

strong and assertive woman, whose financial affairs were not hindered by her lack of direct control.°? Not everyone followed custom. Bi Salima binti Masudi Al-Hasibi, the owner of several large plantations around Malindi, traveled about on a donkey, brandishing a gun and a machete, keeping both slaves and overseers in line. But she was unusual.

The difficulties of management and retention hindered female -property ownership. Still, women owned significant portions of property, though less than the one-third share suggested in the legal

formula for inheritance. Before colonial rule men and women in Mombasa held individual title to land by Muslim customary law. Outside of the towns, land was owned both privately and collectively. In some areas groups laid collective claim to lands that would be apportioned to group members by the elders. For example, the Nine Tribes and the Three Tribes claimed land near Mombasa

on which individuals gained usufruct by clearing and cultivating sections. When the British claimed all waste land as Crown Land under the 1908 Land Titles Ordinance, they took much of this rural land, which had lain fallow after the abolition of slave labor.” As Mombasa grew and the fortunes of most local Muslims declined, urban land was increasingly owned by Indians and Europeans. A few Arabs, such as the Liwali Salim bin Khalfan Bu Saidi, bought large amounts of land at this time. However, from 1891 to 1919, nearly 40 percent of real estate purchases in Mombasa were made by Indian men. 62 59. Interview.

60. Cooper, pp. 91-92. Bi Salima financed the building of a mosque in Malindi.

61. Salim, Peoples, pp. 114-34. 62. This figure and the tables that follow are calculated from data provided by Frederick Cooper, Karim Janmohamed, and John Zarwan, who have col-

lected data from the Land Office, Mombasa, for the years 1891 to 1919. They have a 20 percent sample for all years except 1907, in which year they recorded all transactions. The A Register, LO A, includes transactions involving real property; the B register, LO B, records transactions involving movable property. I thank both Cooper and Zarwan for sharing the raw and processed data with me.

64 COASTAL SOCIETY Patterns of ownership, as distinct from property transactions, are difficult to determine. Probate and court data concerning men’s or women’s ownership of land have not been systematically collected

and analyzed. However, examples from these data indicate that women of all classes did own real estate. In the early twentieth century the moderately wealthy Mwana Kombo owned a stone

house and furniture, a nine-acre farm, and a second house in Mombasa. The Mombasa house was surrounded by the houses of three other women.®* Mariamu binti Matano, a freed slave whose estate was probated in 1912, had assets consisting only of a farm in Changamwe worth 400 rupees and land on Mombasa Island worth 100 rupees. Mariamu was more fortunate than many to own land. Another freed slave, Mwatatu binti Wakati, “Swahili,” died possessing only a house on rented land worth 75 rupees and effects worth 21 rupees. Very wealthy women often owned several pieces

of real estate, which formed the most valuable portion of their estates. For example, Fatuma binti Mbarak bin Mohamed Shikeli, from a leading Omani Arab group, left an estate totaling 10,522 rupees in 1912. The inventory reveals immovable property worth

7,520 rupees (four town plots, one farm, and one house) and jewelry worth 1,116 rupees. Another wealthy Arab woman, Mwana 63. HC, Mwana Msiu binti Bwana Kombo v. Mwante binti Mwidau and Mwana Aliya binti Ali, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 145/1921. Fatma Hussein reports that house ownership by women in the area of Kaloleni, on Mombasa Island, was common in the early days of settlement in the 1920s. See also HC, Asha binti Abdalla v. Shani binti Shariff (Hassan), Provincial Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 159/1902, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 18/1902; HC, Sadeh binti Ali bin Salim v. Mwana Iki binti Salim, Assistant Judge’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 2/1902, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, - Appeal 14/1902; HC, Abdalla bin Rithiwani v. Mwana Iki binti Salim, town magistrate, Mombasa, Civil Case 313/1902, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 25/1902; HC, Moosa bin Mbwana v. Said bin Nasor, Provincial Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 209/1902, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 19/ 1902; HC, Mema binti Kulo v. Sheh bin Mohamed, Lower Court, Siyu, Civil

Case 137/1912, High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 14/1913; HC, Sood bin Mohamed bin Sood v. Fatuma binti Juma, Resident Magistrate’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 350/1913, High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 26/1920; Talibu binti Mwijaka v. Executors of Siwa Haji, deceased, Original Civil 7/1903, EALR 1, pp. 33-38; Bibi binti Saleh v. Salim bin Khamis, Civil Appeal 4/1906, FALR 2, p. 16; KNA Jud 1/620.

COASTAL SOCIETY 65 Mkuu binti Ali bin Khamis Mandry, died in 1928 leaving assets of 48,510 shillings. This property included shares of five farms and five

houses on additional lands. She entered in her will the unusual proviso that her grandchildren’s share in the estate be divided equally between the males and females.™

Although these examples indicate the range of diversity in the class of property owners and the size of estate, they do not tell us what portion of property in Mombasa was owned by non-Asian Muslim women. Just before World War I, men in Malindi, to the north of Mombasa, ownéd séven times as many farms as did women.®

The size~and-scale of operation of Malindi grain plantations, which were larger and more intensively cultivated than farms near Mom-

basa, may have encouraged male ownership. In this community Muslim women’s share of real property fell far short of their percentage of the population. Furthermore, real estate transactions in Mombasa itself suggest indirectly that women owned a disproportionately small share of property.

Records of land office transactions from 1891 to 1919 reveal differences in economic activity between men and women and among ethnic groups.®© First, among non-Asian Muslims, men’s

share of their group’s property sales, purchases, and loans consistently was higher than non-Asian Muslim women’s portion (see table 2). Moreover, men were even more active as buyers-creditors

than as sellers-debtors. During this period 76.5 percent of sales ant} debts were contracted by men, 23.5 percent by women. But for

purchases and credits menAlthough held 82.2changes percentover of the ane | women only 17.8 percent. the total, thirty-year 64. PA 126/1912; PA 119/1912; PA 112/1912; PA 25/1928, respectively. See also Mwana Iki binti Suleman, Rijebi clan, PA 115/1912, estate 10,989 rupees, real estate at least 9,300 rupees. Ghaya binti Mohamed bin Khamis, PA 128/1912, had an estate of 1,818 rupees of which all but 60 rupees was land, houses, or fruit-bearing trees. Mengula binti Mwangala, Kilindini, PA 114/1912, had an estate of 1,900 rupees, 200 rupees of which was cash; the rest consisted of two farms and a house with land in Kibokoni, the wealthiest part of town. She is mentioned in an earlier court case for selling a house; HC, Moosa bin Mbwana v. Said bin Nasor, Provincial Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 209/1902, Chief Native Court, Mombasa, Appeal 19/1902. 65. Cooper, p. 227. 66. See note 62.

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72 COASTAL SOCIETY or by transaction. Nine Tribes women were more active as buyers and creditors than as sellers and debtors within their own group. Significantly, Omani women ranked high among ethnic groups as sellers/debtors (24.3 percent of their group’s sales or debts involved

women) yet low as buyers and creditors (7.5 percent of Omani purchases and credits involved women). The data suggest that Omani

women tended not to engage in speculation, which necessarily involved both buying and selling, whereas women in the other groups may have speculated. Cases drawn from the land office records and from court documents suggest that this pattern is true.

Most wealthy Muslim women raised money from land sales, but did not speculate in land. Ghaya binti Mohamed bin Khamis Mandri, a woman from a wealthy Omani group, received, sold, and gave away land at least eight times between 1890 and 1910, before her death in

1912. She sold land to her sister and three others, gave gifts to her daughter and to a male relative, received a gift from her father, and raised money by mortgaging a stone house. An even more startling example is Jirade binti Khamis bin Masood Mazrui, who made at least twenty-two sales (perhaps as many as eighty), totaling 1,620 rupees over a nineteen-year period, including seven sales in 1907 alone. She appears to have received a large inheritance, perhaps as an only child. Bi Jirade did not invest in land or movable property but

instead sold her inheritance plot by plot. After selling land worth 669 rupees in 1907 and 1908, she borrowed 160 rupees in 1909, mortgaging yet another plot in New Town as security.© Some relatively poor women did speculate in real estate, although

speculation was not a frequent source of income. Mama Dachi, a Manyema prostitute, is one of the few such women who bought and sold property. In 1904 she bought a house on government land in Makadara from Alamase, a slave, for 47 rupees. She sold the same 69. Bi Ghaya: LO A 1894/136, 1896/103, 1897/256, 1900/196, 1900/201, 1907/512, 1907/896; LO B 1, 1894/225. Bi Jirade: LO A 1892/56, 1903/296, 1903/381, 1903/421, 1903/126, 1903/646, 1903/711, 1905/111, 1905/206,

1905/631, 1906/11, 1906/371, 1907/409, 1907/539, 1907/589, 1907/604, 1907/671, 1907/559, 1907/965, 1908/431, 1909/846, 1910/116. Since the sample is 100 percent only for 1907 and 20 percent for the other years, the latter’s total number of sales should be approximately eighty.

COASTAL SOCIETY 73 house three years later for 62 rupees to a female ex-slave freed by the government.” The career of Mwana Hidaya, a Chagga slave, also shows that upward mobility was possible for lower-class women

through real estate. Freed in 1907, Mwana Hidaya began selling palmwine. She soon abandoned this business, either because, as is alleged, she realized that palmwine was forbidden by Islam, or because the new licensing regulations interfered with her business. She invested the money earned from palmwine in a house, which she rented out. Using this rental income she built five other houses and invested in several plots of land. Then she sold her real estate and in

1918 built a mosque, the only one in Mombasa attributed to a woman. It is significant that Mwana Hidaya, called the “pious Swahili lady” by two recent historians, could as an ex-slave accumulate enough money to build a mosque.”! The lives of Bi Ghaya, Bi Jirade, Mwana Hidaya, and Mama Dachi

suggest an important class difference between Muslim women in

Mombasa in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. | Wealthy women did not need to use their property to increase their

wealth. With sufficient income or salable property to provide fashionable clothes, jewelry, and occasional feasts, they had little reason to be involved in the business of land. Moreover, purdah secluded them from the changing political and economic scene. Little

in their class background or in the ideology of Islam encouraged them to enter the world of commercial transactions. Poor women, however, could not depend on husbands or inheritance from relatives. Moreover, female slaves were expected to work and a tradition of female economic activity existed in the agricultural societies from which slaves were taken. Purdah

Female vulnerability and the need to protect a woman’s respectability provided the rationale for purdah. Veiling and seclusion, the twin manifestations of purdah, were practiced with varying degrees 70.LO A 12, 1904/61; LO A 22, 1907/157; for more on Mama Dachi’s career, see chapter 5, p. 139.

as Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano. Berg and Walter, pp. 74-

74 COASTAL SOCIETY of strictness, depending on the historical period and the social status of the woman involved. Historical evidence indicates a trend of lower-class women adopting purdah to enhance their respectability, in imitation of their social

superiors.’ Mombasa women in the 1840s were more casual than Zanzibaris in regard to purdah, claimed one observer, because of the smaller number of Arabs in Mombasa.” Even so, upper-class women would go visiting by walking under a tentlike cover carried by slaves. This apparatus, called the ramba in Mombasa and the shiraa in Lamu,

was reported by the 1850s.” Even in Zanzibar during the 1850s where Arab women wore a black Omani veil, freeborn ‘‘Swahili’’ women of mixed African and Arab descent “mostly [went] abroad unveiled,”’ though wearing a long indigo covering called an ukaya.”°

By the 1870s slave and “lower-class” women in Zanzibar and Mombasa had taken to wearing the ukaya, which in fact had become associated with low status, while “‘ladies’’ or ““better class’”> women

wore a mask or a “black silk mantle.””° By 1910 the ramba had given way to the buibui, a large black cloth, although women in Mombasa continued to be less rigorous about veiling than the Zanzibaris.’’ The growing popularity of the buibui, which originated

in the Hadramawt, marked the growing presence of new Hadrami immigrants from the turn of the century.”*> This buibui seems to be 72. For this trend in postslavery Hausaland, Northern Nigeria, see M. G.

Smith, Introduction, in Baba of Karo by Mary F. Smith (New York: Philosophical Library, 1955), p. 22. 73. From travels during 1846-48, Guillain, 2, pt. 2, 248.

74. Interviews with Bi Kaje wa Mwenye Matano and Bi Zuwena; Alice Werner and William Hichens, eds., Utendi wa Mwana Kupona (Advice of Mwana Kupona upon the Wifely Duty), The Azanian Classics, vol. 2 (Medstead: Azania Press, 1934), verse 46. This poem was composed in the late 1850s.

75. From travels during 1857-59, Burton, 1:386, 434.

76. Steere, p. 499; under “‘ukaya,” Ludwig Krapf, A Dictionary of the Suahili Language, 2nd ed. (1882; London: Gregg Press, 1964); for mask and mantle, New, p. 59. 77. Capt. C. H. Stigand, The Land of the Zinj (London: Constable, 1913), p. 123. 78. Interview with Bi Kaje wa Mwenye Matano, who explained the origins of

the buibui and the fact that the ramba had disappeared by the time she reached puberty, about the early 1900s.

COASTAL SOCIETY 75 the gown worn to increase status described by one observer in 1920: ‘The Zanzibar woman not of the working classes, and who aspires to follow the Arab conventions, moves about closed veiled and swathed in a black cotton or silk wrapper which covers her from head to foot, and conceals all but the upper portion of her face.”” To the exclusion of other styles, the buibui is now worn by non-Asian Muslim women in purdah. Observations from the mid-nineteenth century until World War I

indicate that women from the lower class took on the clothing of women from the upper class as a means of increasing their respectability. Such borrowing had limits, however. Lower-class women borrowed styles that fit their own clothing tastes—namely, flowin

robes like the ukaya rather than the mask and trousers of Omani women. The first step in veiling for these women was to don a dark calico cloth over the two leso (printed clothes) they wore already. Similarly, the buibui that eventually replaced this ukaya was a loose robe. Physical seclusion and separation from men, which was accom-

plished outside the home by a veil, also increased as the Muslim values, or at least the style of the upper class, penetrated more deeply

into the rest of the population. From at least the mid-nineteenth century, if not earlier, respectable women went out only after sunset

in the anonymity of night. Emily Ruete wrote of the differential application of purdah and its mixed blessings:

Poor people, who have but few or no slaves at all, are obliged, on this account, to go abroad more in the daylight, and consequently enjoy more liberty. Ask a woman of this class whether she does

not mind exposing herself so freely, and she will reply: “Such laws are only made for the rich, and not for poor women!” I must say that ladies of higher rank often envy their poorer sisters on account of their advantages.*

79. Emphasis added. F. B. Pearce, Zanzibar, the Island Metropolis of Eastern Africa (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1920), p. 247. 80. Guillain. 2:248; Steere, p. 494; New, p. 67. 81. P. 149.

76 COASTAL SOCIETY By the turn of the century the custom of visiting at night had diminished, though seclusion, like the veil, became increasingly popular.®* Photographs of Zanzibar in the early 1900s show many women in the streets unveiled. But by 1919 the Mombasa district commissioner observed that “Swahilis are cultivating the purdah

system more and more [because] it gives them an air of respect-

ability.” Women and the Public Domain

Since purdah and the need for male mediators with the outside world constituted key ingredients in the Swahili ideology of sexual asymmetry and male dominance, women were absent from nearly all public positions of authority. Men of notable families monopolized political office, despite an occasional woman such as Mwana Mkisi, the first recorded ruler of Mombasa, or Mwana Khadija, who ruled

Pate from 1764 to 1773.% Women were excluded entirely from such Islamic offices as judge or leader of prayers in the mosque. Indeed, Mombasa’s mosques lacked the necessary screen to segregate

men and women, and consequently women were barred from communal prayers with men.®° This exclusion from Islamic roles and from positions of public authority had a few exceptions. Women participated in unorthodox or folk versions of Islam when excluded from the Islamic establishment. Moreover, older women wielded important authority in matters of kinship and in pre-Islamic communal ceremonies such as the Swahili New Year. 82. Pearce, p. 225.

83. KNA 16/49, vol. 3, Seyidie Province Annual Report 1918/19. See photographs in Ruete and in Paul Reichard, Deutsch-Ostafrika, Das Land und Seine Bewohner (Leipzig: Otto Spamer, 1892). 84. William Hichens, Foreword, in Al-Inkishafi: The Soul’s Awakening, by Abdallah A. Nasir, 2nd ed. (1939; Nairobi: Oxford University Press, 1972), p. 14. Mwana Kambaya, the wife of the then current Shehe Mvita, played a pivotal role in negotiations between the Kilindini, Mvita, Mazrui, and Europeans during the tense period in the 1740s when the Bu Saidi were attempting to assert their control over Mombasa’s Yarubi governors. See Lyndon Harries, ed., “Swahili Traditions of Mombasa,” Afrika und Ubersee 43, no. 2 (1959), 81-105. 85. The Baluchi Mosque, built recently, is the only Sunni mosque equipped with a separate area for women.

COASTAL SOCIETY 77 From the late nineteenth century on, alternative forms of Islam challenged the absence of women and slaves at the core of Islamic life. Both the Qadiriyya brotherhood in Tanganyika and Habib Saleh in Lamu organized people of low status. In each case the participation of women in Muslim affairs was part of the struggle, although the

primary focus of the two movements attacked class, not sex, discrimination. Particularly after World War I, the Qadiriyya brother-

hood, or tariga, spread rapidly among Africans in Tanganyika. Studying Bagamoyo in detail, August Nimtz stresses how the tariqa leader, a man of slave descent, drew people from the lower social class to the Qadiriyya and then mobilized the tariqa in the struggle for national independence. Radical in admitting Africans of slave

descent to positions of religious authority, the Qadiriyya also allowed women to become members and to participate in mosque activities, unlike the Ahmadiyya, another tarigqa present in Bagamoyo. As a result, women in the 1930s flocked to the Qadiriyya, even Arab women, whose husbands joined the Ahmadiyya rather than the African-dominated Qadiriyya.*° In Lamu, beginning in the 1880s, a faction of slaves, Hadramis, and other strangers gathered around Saleh bin Alawi Jamalil, who came

to be known as Habib Saleh, the founder of the Riyadha Mosque College. Abdul el-Zein has examined how the Riyadha faction socially, economically, and religiously challenged the upper-class

freeborn leaders and long-time residents of Lamu, who were analogous to Mombasa’s Twelve Tribes.” Whereas the freeborn group stressed the importance of maintaining purity through descent and marriages between people of equal status, the Riyadha faction argued that religious purity could be attained through the Prophet’s love, which was open to all, not just to the favored few.®® El-Zein’s complex analysis of the competing religious ideologies of Lamu’s 86. “The Role of the Muslim Sifi Order in Political Change: An Overview and Micro-Analysis from Tanzania,” dissertation, Indiana University 1973, p. 423. The Qadiriyya attracted attention in Tabora in the 1930s for admitting women to mosques. According to B. G. Martin, the Qadiriyya was not always radical. Personal communication. 87. Pp. 115-64. For a shorter account see Lienhardt, “Mosque College of Lamu.” 88. El-Zein, pp. 214-20.

78 COASTAL SOCIETY various classes suggests but does not explore the connection between

slaves and women that was particularly manifested during the Maulidi celebration of the Prophet’s birthday. The celebrations of

slaves, first performed in the Swahili Maulidi and later in the Riyadha Maulidi, stressed the power of the Prophet’s love in contrast to the principle of hierarchy and descent confirmed by the freeborn eroup’s Maulidi. Significantly, women participated as observers in the Swahili and Riyadha Maulidi, but had no role at all in the other

Maulidi.’ Women were not integrated as deeply into religious activity in Lamu as in the Qadiriyya centers in Tanganyika. Never-

theless, these examples indicate two important points. First, in periods of social change people interpreted Islam in terms of competing social and political ideologies, supporting or challenging the established hierarchy. Second, opponents of the old elite offered women greater participation in religious affairs. In Mombasa no similar groups questioned the dominant interpre-

tation of Islamic doctrine in terms of class or sex. But women compensated for their exclusion from Islamic public affairs through activity in unorthodox or non-Islamic rituals. Women predominated in spirit possession cults, which orthodox Muslim leaders disdained or condemned. And select women elders of the Twelve Tribes, the

wamiji, performed rituals important to the well-being of the community.

The spirit possession cults of folk religion, like the zar cults in other Muslim societies, provided psychological compensation against the male-oriented Islam of the coast.”” Beset by a spirit, or pepo, the 89. Ibid., pp. 109-15, 323-49. It is unclear from el-Zein’s study precisely when women began participating in these Maulidi because he analyzes historical

and contemporary phenomena without always identifying the appropriate time period. 90. Skene, “Dances and Ceremonies,” pp. 420-34. For a detailed analysis of

these songs and ceremonies in the 1960s, see Farouk M. Topan, ‘Oral Literature in a Ritual Setting: The Role of Spirit Songs in a Spirit-Mediumship

Cult of Mombasa, Kenya,”’ dissertation, University of London, 1971. For elsewhere on the coast, see Robert F. Gray, “The Shetani Cult among the Segeju of Tanzania,” in Spirit Mediumship and Society in Africa, ed. John Beattie and John Middleton (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), pp. 171-87; Grace Harris, “Possession ‘Hysteria’ in a Kenyan Tribe [Teita] ,”’ American Anthropologist 59/60 (December 1957), 1046-66; H. Koritschoner,

COASTAL SOCIETY 79 patient (usually a woman) sought a female or male ritual specialist (mganga) who could understand the spirit’s demand and exorcize it, often securing the patient as an initiate into the spirit’s cult at the same time. Membership entailed repeated possessions by a spirit who

demanded continued attention and placation. The psychological stress that prompted the spirit possession was often a sense of neglect, as the missionary Charles New cynically noted in 1872:

A woman has besought her husband in vain for a new dress. Every other art having failed, she is found by and by to have been

seized by the Pepo. The Mganga does his best to cast him out, but without success. At length it is discovered that the demon will not leave his abode until the coveted dress be laid at his feet, that is, at the feet of the woman!”’

Mombasa’s spirit cults parallel the possession cults of northeast Africa, which I. M. Lewis sees as a “feminist subculture” among deprived women: Women (whether consciously or unconsciously) evidently employ

zar possession as a means of insinuating their interests and demands in the face of male constraint. Sometimes they are clearly competing against other women (e.g., co-wives) for a fuller share of their husband’s attention and regard; in other cases where no other woman is involved they are directly striving for

more consideration and respect, and sometimes actually com-

peting with the head of the family for a larger slice of the domestic budget. These “sex-war” aspects are by no means restricted to the zar complex.” “Ngoma ya Sheitani: An East African Native Treatment for Psychical Disorder,” JRAZI 66 (1936), 209-17; Caplan, Choice, chapter 6. For spirit possession elsewhere, see I. M. Lewis, Ecstatic Religion (Harmondsworth, England, Penguin, 1971), chapter 3. 91. P. 69.

92. Ecstatic, pp. 79-80, 89. See also I. M. Lewis, “Spirit Possession and Deprivation Cults,” Man 1, no. 3 (September 1966), 307-29; and the ensuing debate in subsequent issues. For Mafia Island, Caplan (Choice, pp. 121-23) finds that spirit possession is common among women and among low-status Pokomo. She accepts Lewis’s status deprivation argument for the Pokomo

80 COASTAL SOCIETY In addition to establishing deprivation as the basis of these cults,

Lewis relates a Somali folktale that highlights the competition between women’s spirit possession cults and men’s orthodox Islam. An unhappy wife, finding some of her husband’s money lying about the house, arranges to have her possessing spirit exorcized. Upon discovering the loss of his money, the enraged husband pawns his wife’s jewelry and new sewing machine to hold an Islamic ceremony

for holy men and other leaders. For women, spirit cults provided psychological relief, occasional material benefits, and an alternative to the monopoly of Islamic roles of authority. As Lewis points out, however, “the official ideology of male supremacy is preserved.”’”° A few women did occupy positions of importance in rituals conducted for the benefit of the Twelve Tribes community asa whole.

These women were called wamiji, people of the towns (mii) or tribes.2* With men of the same title, they acted as elders for the women and men of Mombasa. By now the origins and functions of the wamiji have become obscure, although they may be analogous to the male and female elders reported in 1902 in towns along the coast of present-day Tanzania.?> In Mombasa, wamiji were chosen informally by people within a neighborhood, which in years past consisted of a kin group. Evidence suggests that wamiji originated from the Twelve Tribes, despite modern confusion about whether

(men), but not for women. Women, she argues, are not as “oppressed” as in other Islamic societies, though they do “suffer disadvantages.”’ More important, since leaders of the cults are overwhelmingly men, spirit possession does not provide women with access to leadership roles. However, what counts is relative deprivation, and this she describes for Mafia women. Moreover, leader-

ship roles are not the only benefit that Lewis sees for status-deprived people who participate in spirit possession. 93. Ecstatic, pp. 77-79, 86. 94. In Mbwana bin Mbwarafundi Elbaurie’s letter, wamiji is translated merely

as ‘“‘the old people of the town” (KNA DC/MSA/3/2, 20.1.14). This is a minimal translation. 95. Carl Velten, Desturi za Wasuaheli na Khabari za Desturi za Sheri’a za Wasuaheli (Customs of the Swahili and customs regarding law of the Swahili),

(G6ttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1903), p. 226. It is unclear, however, if women held such a position in these towns prior to the late nineteenth century, since Velten in this passage is contrasting current times with the past.

COASTAL SOCIETY 81 wamiji were drawn exclusively from them.’® Not only does their title suggest the Twelve Tribes (the Miji Kumi na Mbili), but in addition, one of their ritual functions takes place at the grave of Shehe Mvita, who began the dynasty of the first of the Twelve Tribes to arrive in Mombasa about 1300.

As described in chapter 1, the female wamiji oversaw important events involving kinship and women. At weddings and funerals of Twelve Tribes women, the female wamiji were summoned before other guests and were offered customary gifts of leso. For example,

the daughter of a deceased Twelve Tribes woman distributed twelve shillings and one gora (about thirty English yards) of leso to the female wamiji, who brought the cloths for preparing the corpse.

Then a messenger informed the rest of the community about the death. After three days, during which the family and friends read the Koran, the wamiji returned and received more gifts.”” Another. activity of public importance was the participation of the female wamiji and other women in the Swahili New Year rituals. Not an Islamic holiday as such, the Swahili New Year (Siku ya Mwaka) was a calendrical rite performed to cleanse society of the old and to

ensure its well-being in the coming year. The Swahili year, which derives from the Persian solar calendar, coexists with the Arabic

lunar calendar. The latter marks Muslim holidays, but the solar calendar is more useful for agricultural and maritime purposes. The Swahili New Year appears to be an indigenous and probably preIslamic ritual on which Muslim rituals have been grafted.?® The 96. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. Bi Shamsa contradicted herself, saying first that one had to be from the Twelve Tribes, and then that Arabs or Giriama or Digo could become wamiji by distributing ada (customary gifts) to the appropriate people. Interviews with other women associated wamiji with the Twelve Tribes: Fatuma Mohamed and Mwana Isha binti Ali. 97. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed and Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

98. For the sources of Persian influence see chapter 2, note 2. J. M. Gray, ‘“Nairuz or Siku ya Mwaka,” Tanganyika Notes and Records 38 (1955), 1-3. Gray writes about Zanzibar, where the celebrations were disappearing, p. 7.

This is also the case in Mombasa, where less than 100 people attended in 1973. Guillain, 1:107, describes Zanzibar; New, p. 65, describes Mombasa; Velten describes the Bagamoyo area, pp. 285-86. Prins suggests that the bull offerings in Lamu, Mombasa, and Pemba are linked to pre-Islamic cults (Swahili-Speaking Peoples, p. 114).

82 COASTAL SOCIETY celebrations embody elements of unusual behavior and _ status reversal that Victor Turner has identified with calendrical rites. He argues that such abnormalities situate the special period against ordinary time and reinforce rather than question the normal functioning of society.””

Following Turner’s argument, the participation of women in the Swahili New Year celebrations seems to be part of a general pattern

of unusual behavior on this holiday. Both nineteenth-century observers of the celebrations noted the presence of women. C. Guillain described “individuals of both sexes, particularly the women,” parading through the streets wearing garlands, “abandoning themselves” to noisy celebration.*© Charles New found that “before sunrise the women may be seen flocking down to the shore to bathe.”’

New also noted that “‘the day was formerly one of general license, every man did as he pleased. Old quarrels were settled. Men were

found dead on the following day and no inquiry was instituted about the matter.’”!®!

The Swahili New Year conformed to the typical pattern of social and psychological release found in our Halloween, in French festivals of “Misrule,” in the English May Day, and in Zulu rain rituals.'°? Not

only was abnormal behavior allowed; everyday duties, including work, were suspended. Other elements of the New Year’s celebrations also underline the contrast between the normal and abnormal. In Zanzibar a particular spirit guarded people against the evil spirits who made trouble as the New Year approached. Chenda-utupu

(the naked mover-about) walked around the town at night, his 99. The Ritual Process; Structure and Anti-Structure (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969), pp. 176-77. 100. Documents, 1:107.

101. P. 65. On Kibunzi, 1973, some Muslims who were normally proper became drunk and engaged in raucous, occasionally lewd, behavior. 102. Max Gluckman, Custom and Conflict in Africa (Oxford: Basil Black-

well, 1960), pp. 111-15; Natalie Davis, “The Reasons of Misrule: Youth Groups and Charivaris in Sixteenth Century France,” Past and Present 50 (February 1971), 41-75. In the examples offered by both Gluckman and Davis, role reversal and status reversal are more striking than in Mombasa. Unlike Gluckman, Davis argues that rituals of reversal did not merely reinforce status quo, but could become a mechanism for political and social satire and, eventually, change.

COASTAL SOCIETY 83 nakedness in clear contrast to the usual human behavior.’ Both children and women took more prominent roles in Swahili New Year rituals than was common in everyday life or Islamic religious affairs. The celebrations contained similar elements, although local variations occurred in different towns. Essentially the festivities lasted for two days (Kibunzi and Mwaka), the latter being the first day of the new year. On New Year’s Eve Koranic schoolboys stayed awake all

night at their teacher’s house.“ In the early morning townspeople,

especially women and schoolboys, went to the ocean to bathe, returned wearing garlands of a beach plant named mwaka, and donned new clothes. The plant was hung over the door and left there until it disintegrated.’°° At this point in the celebration in Mombasa, men and women gathered at the grave of Shehe Mvita in Old Town where the male and female wamiji danced. Everyone sang special songs, gungu, while women accompanied by striking buffalo horns against one another and rapping a copper tray with a special ring 10° In Mombasa, Lamu, and Pemba a bull was led around the town and

then slaughtered. The bones from this bull were placed in its skin 103. Charles Sacleux Dictionnaire Swahili-Francais, Travaux et Mémoires de

PInstitut d’Ethnologie, vols. 36 and 37 (Paris: Institut d’Ethnologie, 1939), under “mwaka” and “mwenda-utupu”’; Krapf, under “‘jiwe’’; Gray, “Nairuz,” p. 10. 104. Gray, ‘‘Nairuz,’’ p. 10. The age of this part of the celebration is unclear. In Zanzibar, it began recently, according to Gray who was writing in 1955. It is reported to occur in Mombasa as well (interview with Fatma Saidi). 105. Gray, ‘“‘Nairuz,” pp. 10, 12; Guillain, 1:107; New, p. 65; interviews with Fatma Saidi, Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. Sacleux identifies this plant as Ipomoea maritima, under ‘“‘mwaka.”’ New does not mention garlands; perhaps this part of the ritual was not performed in Mombasa. 106. Personal observation, 29.7.73. According to Fatma Mohamed only pure Twelve Tribes people can dance gungu, “‘watu swafi,”’ as she described them.

Fatma Saidi claims the wamiji dance gungu. However, one of the dancers in 1973 claimed she gained the right because of her age and made no claim to Twelve Tribe heritage. The other female dancer was a Twelve Tribes woman. Fatma Mohamed said that a gold ring was used to beat the copper tray. In 1973 a shilling was used, and people said it used to be a Reale (Maria Theresa Dollar). “Gungu”’ is an old word for a mode of dancing, hence Steere included two gungu songs, “The Pounding Figure,” and “The Stumbling Figure,” done by a single couple and by two couples, respectively. See Steere, pp. 474-83, and Krapf, under “gungu.’’ According to Sacleux, gungu is a dance associated in Mombasa with Shehe Mvita’s grave and in Zanzibar with wedding celebrations. Gungu is connected with Shehe Mvita’s grave by Mbwana bin Mbwarafundi Elbaurie, KNA DC/MSA/3/2, 29.1.14.

84 COASTAL SOCIETY and the entire bundle was sunk in the ocean.’®’ These rituals were intended to purify the town, to eliminate the old evil spirits, and to begin the new year cleansed and protected. Finally, the day ended with many dances.

Viewing the Swahili New Year as a calendrical rite of the sort described by Turner offers a new perspective on women’s ritual roles in Mombasa. Excluded from Islamic roles, women nonetheless participated in rituals during a period when the abnormal reigned, a period when structure, hierarchy, and differentiation lapsed, if only briefly. Their participation in the New Year’s activities underscores their lack of public roles of authority in normal situations involving men and women. These periods of reversal ‘‘underline[d] regularity” and reinforced the norm, just as the spirit possession cults provided psychological release with little serious challenge to the ideology of male dominance.!°8 Domestic Life

Women’s lives in patriarchal society cannot be understood without analyzing domestic as well as public activity. However, reconstructing the norm in private life is more difficult than identifying women’s

public roles. Each of the sources concerning domestic relations is marred. Collected folktales can embody the prejudices of the editor or popular assumptions of the people themselves as much as they present an accurate portrayal of Swahili life. Court cases by their very nature highlight dissension in marital relations. The writings of _ European observers are filtered through their own cultural lenses, which affect their perceptions of Swahili society. Nevertheless, by using insights from all these sources with caution, I find that many women were not the obedient wives that they were exhorted to be. A didactic poem, The Advice of Mwana Kupona upon the Wifely Duty, comprehensively depicts the model wife. Composed on her deathbed in the late 1850s by the wife of the sheik of Siyu near

Lamu, this poem was passed on orally and in manuscript to 107. John Milner Gray does not report this ritual for Zanzibar. For Mombasa, interview with Fatma Saidi. For Lamu see el-Zein, pp. 281-312. 108. Turner, Ritual, pp. 96, 176.

COASTAL SOCIETY 85 generations of young girls being prepared for wifehood.’” Important as the clearest statement of the east African ideal of wifely virtue, the

poem’s popularity indicates how extensively patriarchal ideology infused the lives of women of upper-class families. Mwana Kupona directed her daughter to be faithful in her religious

duties, respectful to her superiors, and attendant to the needs of her husband.'!° Primary among the duties of the new wife was obedience to her husband’s authority: She who obeys her husband, hers are honor and charm; wherever she shall go, her charm is published abroad. Live with him befittingly, do not provoke him to anger; if he rebukes you, do not answer back, try to control your tongue. Be gay with him that he be amused; do not oppose his authority. If he bring you ill God will defend you. When you look upon his face reveal your teeth in a smile; that which he tells you, hold to it, except to rebel against the Highest. Whenever you need to go out, be sure to ask leave. The instructions of your husband, with faithful care discharge them.*” The aim of marriage was harmony and happiness; the way to achieve

this was wifely obedience and concern. Serving food, massaging, pouring ablutions, and shaving and anointing her husband with sweet ointments were among the skills required of the young wife.*'* Personal hygiene and character complemented this attention to the

husband himself. Jewelry, ointments, and flowers constituted a lady’s toilet. She cultivated good manners, truthfulness, courtesy, and generosity and avoided gossip and arrogance. Mwana Kupona 109. This poem was still being recited in the 1930s. See note 74, above. 110. Verses 11-14, 15, 24-27, passim.

111. Verses 96, 28, 36, 50, 44, 57. Punctuation added. See also “Sultan Darai” in Steere, pp. 121, 123, 131, for sex roles and the husband’s authority. 112. Verses 51-56, 30-35. See also Nasir, Al-Inkishafi, verse 41; and Ruete, p. 154.

86 COASTAL SOCIETY was too discreet even to allude to unchastity, except in cautioning the young woman to be modest. Finally, a competent wife must manage the household well. “Do not associate with slaves except during household affairs,” “look well to the household expenses and income,” and “be not a sloven,” was the advice for running a home smoothly.'?? However, Mwana Kupona’s portrait of the ideal home, filled with harmony, grace, and charm, contrasts sharply with the picture of family life that emerges from other sources. Swahili folk stories and Islamic literature stress the unfaithfulness and unchastity of women.'!* Swahili legends vividly portray the punishment that such women would suffer according to the Prophet’s descriptions:

The [woman] who is eating her own flesh refused intercourse with her husband when he felt the need. The one who is digging into her own flesh deceived her husband, so that the children she

gave birth to were not his. The one who is deaf and blind took her husband’s money and gave it to her paramour. The one who is cutting her own flesh showed it to other men, for she had no sense of shame... . The ones hanging by their feet used to go out at night without telling their husbands where they went... .'*

Folk stories are replete with men who love their wives and are betrayed. In one, a husband offers to give up half his remaining thirty years of life if Moses will return to him his dead wife. Moses

does so, but she runs off with a ‘well-dressed’? man. Women frequently invite in passing hunters or take lovers, especially if the men can offer them bangles. Gifts rather than the prospect of sexual pleasure win their favors.’!® 113. Verses 13, 14, 20, 35, 37-41, 46, 60, 62, 64. 114. Knappert, “Social,” p. 130. This generalization does not apply to the collection of Steere, perhaps because for him decorum forbade the repetition of such tales. His collection in other matters is an excellent source of insights

into Swahili family life and society. Adultery in Arabia at the time of the Prophet was not considered a moral fault on the part of the woman. Rather, her husband and kinsmen were responsible for her behavior. Levy, pp. 94-95. 115. Knappert, Myths, pp. 77-78. 116. Ibid., pp. 45-48, pp. 136-42. E. C. Baker, trans., ““Mwarabu na Binti Wake,” in Mwarabu na Binti Wake na Hadithi Nyingine (The Arab and his

COASTAL SOCIETY 87 This picture of adulterous, insatiable women is confirmed by European observations. Guillain, visiting Mombasa in the 1840s, reported the comment of a Mombasa man regarding the “secret life’? of women in Mombasa: “‘All the women of Mombasa whose

husbands do business at Jomvu, Rabai, and elsewhere go out at 11:00 PM ‘chercher fortune.’”''’ Richard Burton found a similarly casual attitude about fidelity during his travels in the 1850s: Chastity is unknown in this land of hot temperaments—the man

places paradise in the pleasures of the sixth sense, and the woman yields herself to the first advances. Upon the coast, when

an adulterer is openly detected, he is fined according to the injured husband’s rank; mostly, however, such peccadillos are little noticed.'!®

Visiting Zanzibar in 1905, Robert Lyne observed more tension between husbands and wives over the issue of adultery: ““Swahilis

do not shut up their wives, but they never trust them, and are always ready to listen to and investigate charges of infidelity against

them.’!!° A few years later, a coastal administrator differentiated between premarital unchastity and adultery. “Swahili” girls “very seldom” had sexual intercourse before marriage, he claimed, though “their conduct after marriage (to speak of the population as a whole) is not particularly moral.’!”° wife and other stories), (Nairobi: Oxford University Press, 1966). Baker collected these stories during World War I along the Tanganyika coast.

117. My translation. 2:248. See also 2:118~22, in which Guillain relates a long story of a man who sends his slave to make contact with a woman to whom the master is attracted, only to discover that the slave has substituted himself for the master. This is one of the few examples in the literature of a woman in a romantic or sexual relationship with a man of lower status. The incident obviously intrigued Guillain.

118. Zanzibar, 1:419. For the interrelation between Burton’s own life and his interest in sexual customs, see Fawn M. Brodie’s biography, The Devil Drives (1967; reprint, Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1971). 119. Zanzibar in Contemporary Times (London: Hurst and Blackett, 1905), p. 235.

120. KNA Coast 1/53/1380, District Commissioner, Malindi, to Acting Provincial Commissioner, Coast, 24.6.20; see also Beech, “On Sex,” a chapter in “On Swahili Life.”

88 COASTAL SOCIETY These literary impressions are not easily verified. From the scattered statistics available for the years 1911-24, the number of court cases involving adultery seems extremely small. Of the nearly six hundred criminal and civil cases in one year, the twenty-five suits

by women to receive their bridewealth and the seventeen suits for divorce greatly outnumbered the single criminal case of “abducting the wife of another person.” However, the absence of court cases is not necessarily indicative of fidelity and chastity. Adultery could have been accepted without objection, as Burton suggests. Or an adulterous wife could have been divorced immediately, without recourse to courts and without explanation for future historians. The coast’s high divorce rate, one divorce for every two marriages, supports the latter explanation.’”? Whatever was expected of married women, the premarital chastity

of young girls was closely watched.'?? On her wedding night the 121. KNA LMU/11, Tanaland Province Annual Report [TPAR] 1912/13.

The person was fined 25 rupees and sentenced to one month rigorous imprisonment at hard labor. One “assault to outrage the modesty of a woman” brought six months rigorous imprisonment. “‘Disposing of a minor for purposes of prostitution” was severely punished by five years rigorous imprisonment. See the following KNA files: LMU/8, Lamu District Annual

Report [LDAR] 1910/11; LMU/11, Tanaland Province Annual Report [TPAR] 1911/12, TPAR 1912/13; LMU/12, TPAR 1915/16; LMU/13, TPAR 1916/17; LMU/1, LDAR 1921, LDAR 1922; KNA 64/260, Malindi District Annual Report [DAR] 1911/12; KNA 22/177, Malindi DAR 1915/ 16.

122.1 have compiled statistics from sixteen communities for the years 1915-16, 1921, 1932-34, 1935-37 (for Mombasa and Lamu only), 1938-39, and 1948-52. Registration of the marriages and divorces of non-Asian Muslims was required by the Mohammedan Marriage and Divorce Ordinance of 1906. Barring an explanation for divorces being reported with greater frequency than marriages, the evidence of marital discord is rather compelling. Most of these statistics are from the Provincial or District Annual Reports for each year, or from KNA Coast 2/31. 123. It is unclear if chastity was required of all girls, or only of those of high social status. E. Quass, describing Zanzibar in the 1860s, claimed that after puberty, slave girls were allowed to take lovers. “Die Szuri’s, die Kuli’s, und die Sclaven in Zanzibar,” Zeitschrift fiir Allgemeine Erkunde, NS 9 (1860), 460. I am grateful to Frederick Cooper for sharing this information with me. On the other hand, W. H. Ingrams reports that looking for traces of virginity is an African custom found in Arab weddings and that showing the bloody cloth is the custom of a “lower class of Arabs.” Zanzibar, pp. 200-01.

COASTAL SOCIETY , 89 bride had to satisfy the older women of the two families by producing a blood-stained bedsheet to be displayed for wedding guests and neighbors as proof of the bride’s virginity. The presence of ruses substantiates the occasional breach of the rule of chastity. The bride

and groom, if jointly responsible for her loss of virginity, might conspire to use pigeon’s blood as a substitute, but the older women were thought to have perspicacious powers for detecting substitutes. Alternatively, the bride’s mother or a close female adult might hide a small balloon of blood inside the bride’s vagina, which when broken

by intercourse would simulate a broken hymen.’%* Again, the groom’s female relatives might discover the deception when they inspected the bride. All in all, strong sanctions, enforced by the older women themselves, militated against young girls having sexual intercourse before marriage—the threat of immediate divorce, the

public display of evidence of virginity, and public shame if they lacked such evidence.

Young men escaped such trials, despite the demands of Muslim ideology for male chastity. Even young men from elite families who attended the Arab Boys’ School in the early 1920s strayed. Accord-

ing to the director of education, after the “age of 12... they usually fall into the clutches of Arab women and Venereal Disease is prevalent among the older pupils of the school.’?”°

Next to infidelity and unchastity, disobedience and disrespect stand out as the major sins of women. The frequent appearance in court of husbands suing for restitution of conjugal rights indicates one pattern of wifely rebellion.'*° Running away provided another escape for women. One man returned from a trip only to discover 124. Burton 1:428; Topan, “Vugo.” B. G. Martin was told about such ruses by an Arab woman in Mombasa. Personal communication.

125. KNA Coast 1/30/409, Director of Education to Colonial Secretary,

1% From the court statistics mentioned above in note 121, civil cases in Tanaland Province in 1911/12 included three restitutions of conjugal rights;

1912/13 included four such cases compared to 25 suits for bridewealth; 1915/16 included 23 cases of restitution of conjugal rights, 66 cases of suits for maintenance or bridewealth. HC, Musa bin Ahmed v. Yaya binti Bakari, Kadhi’s Court, Lamu, Civil Case 23/1912, High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 26/1912. Yaya left home because “‘she found difficulty there.”

90 COASTAL SOCIETY that his wife had left and married someone else in defiance of her own guardian and the man under whose authority she temporarily had been placed.’?’ In the case of Fatuma binti Ahmed, a husband’s absence provided a good opportunity for mischief, defined in coastal

terms. Her husband went to Arabia for three years, instructing his attorney to pay his wife her monthly maintenance. After eighteen months, “‘she misbehaved herself ...she used to peep outside and speak to people” so the attorney cut off her funds.’ Contrary to the idealized picture, a strong-minded wife might use to her own advantage Mwana Kupona’s advice of keeping the household running smoothly. One story from 1870 describes the marital

life of a carpenter and his second wife. The wife brought to the

marriage a daughter by a former husband. Favoring her own daughter over the carpenter’s daughter, she systematically starved the latter. The carpenter’s attempts to intercede and eat supper with his daughter were frustrated by his wife. ““The usual thing in a house is to ask the wife,’’ she declared.

It is she who [stays] in the house, and it is she who knows every-

thing that is cooked and not cooked, and who has had enough and who is hungry. ... This is how people live with their wives

in great houses, and...this is what people marry wives for, because they want when they come home to find everything ready.?? 127. KNA Coast 1/67/14, Letter no. 19/1897, Mbwara Sheikh bin Kayim el Banjuni to Bwana Mkubwa.

128.HC, Fatuma binti Ahmed v. Saleh bin Suleiman, Kadhi’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 9/1915, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Appeal 20/1915. See also HC, Ambari bin Almasi v. Hidaya binti Amani, Kadhi’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 31/1914. Hidaya refused to follow her husband, saying he beat her. The court ordered him to stop beating and her to follow. HC, Lali bin Ahmed

v. Asha binti Sheikh Ahmed, Town Magistrate’s Court, Nairobi, Civil Case 182/1913, High Court, Nairobi, Civil Appeal 8/1914. In this case the judge ruled that nothing would be accomplished by ordering Asha to return to her husband. “‘She would refuse to go, in which case all I could do, [sic] would be to order [her] to go to prison for a short term.” In several other cases, women refused to travel long distances with their husbands, though this was within

their right and not disobedience in the strict sense. See HC, Yabu binti Ahamed v. Ali bin Juma, Lower Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 220/1911, High Court, Mombasa, Civil Appeal 17/1912; KNA Jud 1/803;KNA Coast 1/7/65, Mudir, Changamwe, to District Commissioner, Mombasa, 13.2.13. 129. “Sultan Darai,” in Steere, pp. 27-29.

COASTAL SOCIETY 91 In real life as well as in fiction, “much depend[ed] upon the individual disposition of husband and wife,” as Emily Ruete observed, “chow far the latter may venture in using her authority.”!™

Structural features of coastal life, among them residence, further weakened the reality of male dominance. According to Charles New, owning her own house gave the slave wife a good deal of leverage. In

a style that seeks to shock his Victorian audience, New describes ,

marriage between slaves in which \ the woman provides house and furniture. In her house she is |

queen. Should her husband dare to offend her, she at once j reminds him that she is mistress; that the house and furniture are hers; and thatif he is not satisfied with the treatment he receives, he can leave and make room for someone else. The insulted and indignant man seizes his stick, or his sword, and flees from the termagant to seek a home elsewhere.

This residence pattern existed among freeborn people as well.’*! Perhaps to differentiate the more Arab-influenced Zanzibari society from the coast, Steere reported in 1870 that on the “Swahili coast ... the bride’s father or family should find her a house and that the husband should go to live with her, not she with him.’’!*? Besides providing her with a degree of security, this arrangement relieved the young wife from living in her husband’s home under the constant eye of her mother-in-law. Those too poor to own a house rented their accommodations from one of Mombasa’s wealthy landowners. Women frequently rented in

their own names, though whether they lived alone, with another woman or a husband, or in an informal union is unclear. One extant

130. P. 155. See also Burton, 1:394.

131. New, p. 67; interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano. The ex-

husband of a deceased wealthy woman claimed a share in her éstate, including “‘the house in which we used to reside together.”” HC, Mshamu bin Kombo v. wasi of estate of Aeysha binti Said, Kadhi’s Court, Siyu, Civil Case 5/1919, High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 13/1919. 132. P. 490. Caplan (Choice, p. 48), describing Mafia Island in the 1960s,

identifies men choosing to live in either their maternal or paternal kin’s wards. Such a pattern of residence indicates women’s influence as mothers, though not as wives.

92 COASTAL SOCIETY list of rentals for 1899 in New Town, an area adjacent to Old Town, reveals a large number of women renters.'*? (See table 6.) / among slavesmore and freed slaves. freeborn women were the / Considerably women thanHowever, men were renters, particularly ' east likely to be renting. The relatively small number of male slaves and ex-slaves may be attributed to the kind of work common among these men. Plantation labor on mainland farms, porterage, and sailing all took men of this category away from the island.

Because the upper-class norm for marriage rigidly dictated sex roles and wifely obedience, the instability of marriage actually contributed to women’s autonomy.'™ We have scant evidence of this instability before 1910. By World War I, however, British administrators were noticing the casual marital arrangements of many people. Divorce statistics from that decade into the 195Qs indicate at least half as many divorces as marriages each year in nearly all Muslim communities in Kenya.'*> Despite the unwillingness of many husbands to support their wives, these women seem to have managed, much to the surprise of C. C. Dundas, who reported after his inspection of the kadhi’s court in 1915, that the majority of cases [were maintenance claims]. Most of these were of women against men both being residents of Mombasa and the

claims extended over periods of a year or 18 months; it is difficult to understand how a woman can live in the same town as her husband and forego maintenance for 18 months. Proof of marriage never seems to be adduced and my own belief is that no difference is made between temporary alliances and real marriages,}°° 133. Rental from Liwali Salim bin Khalfan, in two lists, LO A. 134. See chapter 5, note 77, regarding Hausa women. 135. See note 122. 136. KNA Coast 1/25/273, Report 31.3.15; emphasis in original. A demographic study of Mombasa cousin marriage conducted by R. E. S. Tanner in

the early 1960s indicates very high marital stability. Out of a sample of approximately 1300, only 7 percent of the marriages ended in divorce. However, Tanner acknowledges that his sample was prejudiced in favor of elite families, who, I have argued, tend to follow more strictly religious demands for kindness, obedience, forebearance and the like. Presently, Muslim leaders

COASTAL SOCIETY 93 Table 6 Rentals in 1899

Females Males slaves 163 _— slaves 69 freed slaves 139 freed slaves 53

393 276

freeborn, waungwana 91 freeborn, waungwana 154 Total 669 Note: Twelve additional entries could not be identified by sex or status.

One might conclude that the women found a way to support themselves and their children, independent of their delinquent husbands, thus explaining their coexistence in the same town without early recourse to court action. The wife might be without maintenance, but she was outside her husband’s authority as well.!*”

Although this analysis separates ideology and reality, the public and the private, all clearly are related. Women’s absence from public roles inhibited them from fully exercising their personal rights. Since no females judged cases, legal decisions affecting women were in the hands of male makadhi. Although these men often granted women

their legal rights and were not necessarily ogres, they came from the stratum of society that was most likely to believe in female weakness, inability to make decisions, and lack of virtue. Women suffered from their exclusion from public affairs in a second way. Without experience in mixed society they were at a disadvantage in

in Mombasa criticize men for “playing with divorce,” which suggests that among elite families divorce was avoided. R. E. S. Tanner, “Cousin Marriage in the Afro-Arab Community of Mombasa, Kenya,” Africa 34, no. 2 (April 1964), 127-38.

137.R. E. S. Tanner and D. F. Roberts report that village women near Pangani, in northeastern Tanganyika, had little incentive to remarry after their

first divorce since men did not treat their wives with much respect. As a result, many remained single, either staying in the village or migrating to the

city. “A Demographic Study in an Area of Low Fertility in North-east Tanganyika,” Population Studies 13 (1959-1960), 75-78.

94 COASTAL SOCIETY controlling their own property and economic affairs. Instead they looked to a husband, brother, or father. The letters of appeal to the Protectorate administrators indicate that not all these intermediaries were trustworthy. Finally, barred from Muslim offices and public functions, women were unable to challenge directly the ideology of male dominance. Instead, some women thwarted it by ignoring the demand of fidelity and chastity or by spurning wifely obedience. Not all women rebelled. Women from upper-class and very religious families probably adhered most closely to Mwana Kupona’s standards, for they had a greater stake in maintaining their respectability.

To contradict the norms was to act like an mshenzi (the term identifying nonbelievers and other uncivilized beings). Except for a few women such as Bi Salima binti Masudi Al-Hasibi or Emily Ruete, the daughter of Said ibn Sultan who eloped to Germany, upper-class women depended on the goodwill of their relatives and the respect

of their peers. Moreover, women such as Mwana Kupona, who clearly shared the ideology that men should control and women obey, in part benefited from the patriarchal structures. As the wife of an important man, she profited from the hierarchical organization of society. For her to challenge the ideal of wifely obedience would undermine the ideal of slave deference and of hierarchy itself. The Twenties: Patriarchy in Decline

The old patriarchal pattern crumbled in the face of increasing British control. The British attack on the slave trade and slavery preceded actual colonial rule. But the Muslim leaders’ loss of political autonomy in 1895 signaled the decline of their control even over the internal affairs of the Muslim community of Mombasa. The

abolition of slavery affected the social hierarchy as well as the economic position of the slaveowning class. They responded by trying to transform the old slave system into a patron-client system, but only with limited success. The colonial government, now controlling the courts, insisted that freed slaves had the right to marry without their patron’s permission. With legal distinctions abolished, the ex-owners had to rely on class

and ethnic distinctions. But even in this area they were less able than before to monopolize high social status and to dictate the

COASTAL SOCIETY 95 dominant values. With British rule came alternative European models of behavior that attracted young people from families of all classes. Finally, the slaveowning class lost control of economic policy. The

coast henceforth would be run not according to their needs but to meet the requirements of Britain and Kenya’s white settlers, which

meant the development of Mombasa as a port, attracting large numbers of up-country immigrants. These men and women had little respect for the Muslim leaders themselves or for their values.

By the 1920s economic expansion and the immigration of upcountry workers to Mombasa brought social dislocations. The colonial government and the Muslim leaders saw some of these problems emerging from an imitation of European life and explained

the phenomenon as a moral breakdown. Having lost political and economic power over the previous twenty-five years, the leading men now began to experience diminishing control over their own families. A sense of powerlessness pervaded their response.

Of primary concern to these staunch Muslims and moralistic administrators were drunkenness and the “night clubs” that sprang up in Mombasa. As the resident commissioner in Mombasa reported in 1923: Drunkness [sic] in both sexes has increased to an appalling extent

in the last few years and of late a phase of “Club life” is threatening the existence of many a respectable Mohamedan family.

Imitation of the European has developed these clubs from healthy institutions into night clubs at which dances are held attended by women. Houses are rented in the “Shambas”’ outside

the town, guests, able to do so, provide their own whiskey, and ex-mission girls, Seychelle, Swahili and other prostitutes attend. The final nature of the entertainment needs no description.’*®

Situated on the outskirts of town, the night clubs were outside the jurisdiction of the town ordinances.'*? Muslim fathers communicated 138. KNA Coast 1/56/1548, Resident Commissioner to Colonial Secretary, Nairobi, 17.9.23. 139. KNA Coast 1/56/1548, Acting Senior Commissioner to District Commissioners, 6.10.23.

96 COASTAL SOCIETY their displeasure with these developments, which were attracting their own children as well as lower-class people. The district commissioner, Ainsworth Dickson, who maintained close ties with these leading families, reported their reactions mixed with his own chauvinism:

To the elder generation of Arab [the “gospel of liberty of the subject” that the British bring to the people] appears a veto on all parental discipline, by the younger it is accepted as a welcome sanction for unbridled license. Rightly or wrongly the Arab parent considers the State has taken control of his children from

him—he argues that little or no attempt has been made by the State to guide the younger generation by education and that when punishment is inflicted by a Court, the habit of crime has already become deeply ingrained.’”

Unable to reinstill a respect for authority and for traditional ways, the fathers and the government looked to each other for solutions. The Muslim elders urged a government proclamation, passed in 1926, which emphasized the government’s “recognition of parental control among the Mohammedan people of the Protectorate as described by

the Koran.” At the same time, the government felt that “‘the real campaign to eradicate the evil attendant on drunkenness must come

from [the communities] themselves, before Government [can] formulate means of constructive help.” Insisting that the political associations, the Afro-Asian Association and the Arab Association, should “attempt to tackle the social problem, which they alone as fathers and elders of the delinquents can tackle successfully,” the government felt it could do its share by encouraging football. The Annual Report for 1928 related a continuing concern over drunkenness, but “noted that the interest in football ... continues and is a beneficial factor in the uplifting of the Coast native.”

Although pessimistic about the moral effect of football, one 140. KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1925, p. 6 141. KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1925, p. 6; KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1926, p. 7; KNA

MSA/1, MDAR 1927; KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1929, p. 8, emphasis added; KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1928.

COASTAL SOCIETY 97 religious leader, Sheik Al-Amin bin Aly Mazrui, agreed that the responsibility lay with the Muslim community itself.'*? His essays concerning the decline and necessary regeneration of Muslims form the body of Al-/slah [Reform], a small newspaper that was written

and distributed in the early 1930s. Sheik Al-Amin’s plea for obedience and community cohesiveness poignantly marks the passing

of such a community. In one of his more nostalgic pieces, he exhorted people to manifest their “love of the community” by adhering to their roles: students should study, community leaders

should lead, the rich should donate their money to develop the community, and everyone should follow the word of Allah. Community improvement need not threaten Muslim values, which would be reinforced by community pressure. Disobedience to Allah’s way was to be countered by social ostracism. A person straying from the proper path should be approached, confronted with his or her misdeeds, and offered the chance to reform. If the person were uncompliant, people should turn down invitations to his or her celebrations

and refuse respect.'*? Sheik Al-Amin was appealing to a fastchanging community to respect the authority of leaders who no longer had power. Between 1900 and 1930 Mombasa’s expanding population included more and more people over whom the Muslim leaders had no influence, even people Muslim in name. Patriarchy and Class Society

Despite the ideal articulated in Islamic doctrine that all Muslims 142. See the quotation from Al-Isiah in Salim, Peoples, p. 164. For biograph-

ical information see Salim, Peoples, pp. 159-61, 168. Al-Islah was the outgrowth of an even smaller journalistic effort called Al-Saheefah (The newspaper). Al-Jslah was published from 29.2.30 until shortly after Sheik AlAmin became Mombasa’s kadhi in December 1932. Unfortunately the only complete set of Al-Islah has not been returned to Sheik Abusuleiman Mazrui, who loaned it to a coastal scholar. However, several of the essays were collected and reprinted from the twelve-month run of weekly editions under the title Uwongozi (Guidance), which can be purchased in Mombasa book-

stores. |

143. “Mapenzi ya Watan” (Love of the community), Uwongozi, no. 19

(1930), p. 33; ““Ndia ya Kuzuilia Maasiya” (The way to prevent disobedience), Uwongozi, no. 20 (1930), p. 36.

98 COASTAL SOCIETY are equal, Mombasa society was hierarchical both before and after

the abolition of slavery. The most fundamental inequalities lay between slaveowners and slaves and between men and women.

Coastal society by no means stood alone in manifesting male dominance.“ But not all forms of male dominance are the same.

Thus instead of using the term “patriarchy” to describe every variety of male domination, it is more precise and useful to employ this term to identify a particular form of sexual asymmetry in which a man’s power derives from and is expressed through his position as the head of a family or kin group.’*° In this position he exercises power over both women and younger men. The changes that Sheik

Al-Amin viewed with apprehension and regret in the 1920s and 1930s marked a shift away from patriarchy to a different form of 144. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo postulates ‘‘a universal asymmetry in cultural evaluations of the sexes,” in “Woman, Culture, and Society: A Theoretical Overview,” in Woman, Culture, and Society, ed. Michelle Zimbalist Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1974), p. 17. Rosaldo’s statement is by no means undisputed. Some Marxists, following Frederick Engels in Origin of the Family, Private Property,

and the State, argue that prior to the development of private property and class society, women were the social equals or superiors of men. See Isabel Larguia and John Dumoulin, ‘“‘Aspects of the Condition of Women’s Labor,” NACLA’s Latin America and Empire Report 9, no. 6 (September 1975), 2-13; Eleanor Leacock, “Women’s Status in Egalitarian Society: Implications for

Social Evolution,” Current Anthropology 19, no. 2 (June 1978), 247-75. Others acknowledge the basic outline of Engels, but identify sex role differences

in hunting and gathering societies that relate to child care. See Kathleen Gough, “‘The Origin of the Family,” Journal of Marriage and the Family 33 (November 1971), 760-71; Leith Mullings, “Women and Economic Change in Africa,” in Women in Africa, pp. 239-64. Still other writers seek to use the

insights of Marx and Engels on class, and of radical feminists on sex, to arrive at a synthesis. See Zillah Eisenstein, ““Developing a Theory of Capitalist Patriarchy and Socialist Feminism,” in Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for

Socialist Feminism, ed. Zillah Eisenstein (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1978), pp. 5-40. There is less disagreement about the ways in which capitalist development, colonialism, and imperialism negatively affect women’s lives than there is agreement on the question of sexual asymmetry,

or inequality, in societies with less stratification and a simple level of technology prior to colonialism. For a survey of recent literature in this debate, see Louise Lamphere, “Anthropology,” Signs 2, no. 3 (Spring 1977), 612-27. 145. Gayle Rubin, “The Traffic in Women,” in Toward an Anthropology of Women, ed. Rayna Reiter (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1975), pp. 167-68.

COASTAL SOCIETY 99 sexual asymmetry in which the power of a father or the head of a kin group was diminished. The continuing economic and legal inequalities between men and women indicate that it was not sexual asymmetry but rather patriarchy as a particular form of male control that was in decline.

To argue that Mombasa society at the turn of the century embodied a patriarchal expression of sexual asymmetry, articulated in an ideology of male dominance, is not to attribute all power to men. Womef?rfiad influence and autononjty and escaped the confines

of male authority in several areas. Although upper-class men monopolized public positions in Islamic and governmental spheres,

women held important ritual roles, particularly those which concerned kinship and communal pre-Islamic festivals. Moreover, women participated actively in spirit possession cults, which existed outside the control of orthodox Islamic leaders.

Class divisions in coastal society cut across the sexual boundary, but also were manifested in patriarchy. The mobilization of slaves, ex-Slaves, and followers around a powerful man, a patriarch who could provide protection, inhibited the development of strong class solidarity among both slaveowners and slaves. Frederick Cooper argues that “‘neither the owners nor the owned came to form a class capable of thinking of itself as a collectivity and acting accordingly.”!*°

Still, for several reasons, I cannot ignore the concept of class and properly account for twentieth-century developments in Mombasa. First, slaveowners commanded the labor of slaves, most of whom

were field hands by the late nineteenth century. No amount of discussion about the divisions among slaveowners and the dependence

of slaves on them can obviate the central economic distinction between those who own human labor and those who perform it. Moreover, despite the strength of the social forces that inhibited the coalescing of classes, articulations of class consciousness did occur. Admittedly, slaves and slaveowners on the east African coast did not exhibit the degree of class solidarity that characterized labor-

ing people in Europe or the United States at this time. But the 146. Cooper, p. 263

100 COASTAL SOCIETY - slaveowners’ manipulation of Islamic ideology and Swahili cultural norms clearly identified the distinctions between slave and free, thus making the creation and perpetuation of slave subculture all the more possible. Sometimes poorer people, including slaves and ex-slaves, mobilized in opposition to the leading persons in their communities to the extent of creating competing ideological forms. The presence

of a slave subculture, however weak in terms of its publicly expressed political power, marked their class consciousness.!*7 In the forty years from 1890 to 1930 Mombasa’s Muslims wrestled

with the tension between reality and ideological prescriptions of behavior. In the following forty-five years no change of the magnitude of abolition occurred among economic and social classes. But the undermining of the patriarchal form of family life increased as secular education and employment for women further threatened this fundamental institution of Muslim life.

147. See chapter 8.

4 Books and Pocketbooks: The Fruits of Female Education Do we see nothing European to imitate except the bad? ... We are like flies, we do not alight except on ulcerous sores, or like the scavenger beetle, that is repulsed by a

good odor, pleased by stench, and surrounded by impurity.’

Of all the aspects of cultural penetration faced by Muslims during the colonial period, secular education for girls generated the most ambivalent feelings. The Prophet himself had exhorted men and women to go as far as China for education, and yet parents feared

sending their girls to schools run by the government. More cosmo- | politan Muslims, those familiar with Middle Eastern attempts to reconcile Islam with Western institutions, thought it possible to circumvent the government by establishing Muslim schools that included religious studies. Thus, by a defensive strategy, female secular education began on the coast in the 1930s.

The conservatives lost the battle to preserve the Muslim community as they knew it. They intended that girls be educated only in religious and domestic subjects, but their daughters became secretaries. With schools came hula hoops and new ideas about sexual equality that challenged the prevailing views of marriage, women’s nature, and women’s behavior. The attempt to imitate what

was good in European life opened a Pandora’s box. : Before the advent of secular education for girls, most young girls received some religious instruction from a trusted male relative or family friend, or from an educated woman.” In such training a girl 1. Al-Amin bin Aly Mazrui, ““Namna Gani Twawaigiza Wazungu?” (How do we imitate the Europeans?), in Uwongozi, no. 4 (1931), p. 7. 2. Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano; Werner and Hichens, p. 24. Zainab binti Ahmad Matano taught religion and the Koran to girls; Mombasa Times, 11.6.57. 101

102 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS learned the proper way to pray, perform various other religious duties, and recite the Koran. Particularly in Lamu, women in upper-

class families had a reputation for their knowledge of religious matters and classical Swahili poetry.2 Women from poorer and less religious families received more rudimentary training. However, the issue of secular education for girls was a different matter, emerging only after the firm establishment of boys’ secular education.

Concerned that children of former slaveowners needed a new source of livelihood after abolition, both the coastal community leaders and government administrators pressed for the formation of the Arab Boys’ School to train future clerks, minor officials, and teachers for the colonial administration.* The government’s intention to produce literate clerks for its staff was never fully reconciled with the community’s expressed need for instruction in Arabic and religion, a battle that continued for decades.° In the years immediately following the founding of the Arab Boys’

School there were rumblings but little action about girls’ secular education. Testimony before the Education Committee of the East Africa Protectorate in 1919 demonstrates that neither Europeans nor

Muslims supported secular education for girls. James Orr, the 3. Werner and Hichens, p. 23; Alice Werner, ed., The Story of Migqdad and Mayasa (Medstead: Azania Press, 1932), p. 9; Stigand, p. 114. 4. Salim, pp. 148-52; KNA Coast 1/3/290. Expenses were paid from money remaining in the slave compensation fund.

5.In the words of the district commissioner, Malindi, in 1913, a school should be started “so as to qualify ... the young Arabs and Swahilis of the better class . . . for posts in the native political and administrative services, besides being taught athletics, riding, and outdoor games, and thus weaned from those habits of indolence and vice which are so rapidly corrupting the race.” KNA Coast 1/8/197, to Provincial Commissioner, Coast, 22.4.13. Salim, Peoples, pp. 161-62, 199. Al-Amin bin Aly Mazrui, ““Lugha ya Ki-Arabu na Wa-Islamu” (The Arabic language and Muslims), in Uwongozi, no. 12 (1931), pp. 21-23; Education Commission of the East Africa Protectorate, Evidence of the Education Commission of the East Africa Protectorate, 1919 (hereafter Evidence), pp. 39-40, located in the University of Nairobi library; KNA Coast 1/3/290, A. D. Pipe to Provincial Commissioner, Mombasa, 10.10.12; KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1938, p. 15; Fact-Finding Mission to Study Muslim Education

in East Africa, Report (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1958), passim. This report, authorized by the East African High Commission, virtually ignored the issue of girls’ education, despite its importance to the community’s debate at the time.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 103 director of education for British East Africa, and C. W. Hobley, the provincial commissioner, did not even consider the possibility of educating Muslim girls. Nor was support forthcoming from the Liwali Ali bin Salim, who accepted European ways, or other Arab men who favored boys’ secular education. Even the two Muslim men who tentatively advocated secular education for girls stressed the need for

limiting their training. Haidar bin Mohamed Mandhry, a twentyseven year-old Arab trader from Mombasa, explained that “if proper

girls[’] schools with women teachers existed I would send my daughters, but girls must not be taught to the same level with boys. They should not be taught high class Arabic. [Only] primary and domestic education [are suitable] for girls.” Hamed bin Mohamed Imam Timamy, an interpreter in the High Court, agreed.® Even this half-hearted call for girls’ education beyond that of Koranic school was not met for seventeen years.

The reluctance of Muslim parents to send their daughters to a school that would teach them more than religious duties stemmed from their ambivalence about the social changes occurring in Mombasa. In the 1920s, when devout Muslims saw familial order crumbling, drunkenness and disobedience rampant, and aliens invad-

ing a city once dominated by Muslims, they feared that secular education would further the disintegration of the family and the community. In the minds of the opposition, education was tied to invidious Western influences. Reacting to a boarding school for girls established in Zanzibar in 1927, one person wrote in a letter to the editor in Sheik Al-Amin’s newspaper that

There is no place for such a school in Mombasa, for our women

bring shame upon us through the adoption of the “modes of civilization.” They cut their hair [short] they wear [European] dresses and ride cars as much as 30 miles just like European women do, and their husbands do not stop them—such is the extent of the grip of “civilization” upon them.’ 6. Evidence, pp. 39-51, 59, 65. 7. Letter to editor, Al-Islah, 2.9.32, quoted in Salim, Peoples, p. 163. Asha binti Khamis bin Mohamed Mutwafy reports that her father, who supported boys’ education, thought that school would make girls disobedient; interview.

104 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS Just as going away to boarding school would encourage girls to travel about in motor cars, learning to write would only tempt them to evil deeds, according to the conservatives. Seeing no benefits in literacy, they assumed that girls would use their new skills to write love notes to boys.®

The supporters of secular education for girls shared most of their opponents’ goals, but merely favored a different method of restoring proper religion to the community and family. In a 1931 essay Sheik Al-Amin put forth his ideas about ‘‘our duty toward women.” He chastized Muslim men for neglecting their responsibilities in leading women—the less able, less bright, and weaker sex—along the proper path in life:

We have let them wear European clothes without saying a word.

They thought it was a good thing, and proceeded to cut their hair in a European style, and when they saw that they were not criticized, they dressed the children in European caps. And now

others are going to the mission to study English, and we are silent. ...If we continue like this ...it will not be surprising if those who are going to the mission enter a church! Then we will come to know the results of neglecting our affairs, and then we will regret it, for “remorse is the grandchild” [i.e., the inevitable result].?

Sheik Al-Amin decried his fellow Muslims’ imitating only the useless activities of Europeans. “We imitate football, golf, staying up

and playing the kinanda [a stringed instrument], ‘dance,’ or work like studying art. We have left to the Wachaga, Wataita, Wakikuyu, and Wakamba to learn work like radio, electricity, lighting.’ Regarding women in particular,

we want to imitate Europeans, to civilize our women to be like their women... . [But] the education that European women have

to keep house and to clean, to raise children of good health, 8. Salim, Peoples, p. 163; interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano.

9. ““Wajibu wetu kwa Wanawake,” Uwongozi, no. 1 (1931), pp. 1-2. The

proverb majuto ni mfukuu (remorse is the grandchild), is translated by Taylor, Aphorisms, no. 232a, p. 53.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS : 105 manners, and character, and the skill they have in handwork and cooking, all these we do not see as things to civilize our women.’°

Sheik Al-Amin argued that Muslims could evade bad European influences by sending their girls to a Muslim school, which would include religious training, Arabic, and instruction in accordance with

Muslim values.'! His own niece had been sent to the Church Missionary Society (CMS) School for one year, much to the chagrin of her relatives, who pressured her father to remove her.'* He could see

around him other parents hiring mission women to tutor their daughters. In some cases, after marrying, women whose fathers had not allowed them to go to mission school hired a European woman from CMS to tutor them.'? By denying Muslim women a Muslim education, Sheik Al-Amin argued we will be aiding our girls to join the mission school, where most students come to read. And those poor people do not know that they have put their children in HELL, for missions do not open schools except to trap Muslims into becoming Christians. To send a child to [mission] school is the worst sort of crime.'* Having thus chastized the community for forsaking its daughters to the Christians and for imitating only the dregs of Western culture, he outlined the arguments in favor of educating girls:

The Prophet himself says that women and men both should be educated. In fact educating one woman is worth educating ten men, because she passes on her good character to her children. 10. “Namna Gani Twawaigiza Wazungu?’’ Uwongozi, p. 7. Sheik al-Amin learned from other Muslim reformers; see Albert Hourani, Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age, 1789-1939 (London: Oxford University Press, 1962). In Morocco, female education and women’s liberation in general was supported by nationalists as a strategy to defeat the French. Mernissi, pp. 91-92. In Mombasa the innovation was more defensive than offensive. 11. Al-Islah, 19.9.32, quoted in Salim, Peoples, p. 164. 12. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. This incident happened in 1928. 13. Interviews: Asha binti Khamis bin Mohamed Mutwafy; Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy mentioned Bibi Mary from the CMS and Miss Lloyd. 14. “‘Taalim ya Vijana Wanawake” (Education of young girls), Uwongozi, no. 3 (1931), p. 4.

106 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS An uneducated woman will not encourage her child to go to school. But even a woman who knows only the Koran is better than a totally uneducated woman. Also, a man should take pleasure in his wife’s betterment. The Prophet says that better than worldly comfort is a good wife. If she is a fool, she will not know how to make a happy house for him, or know the rights of her husband.**

Educating girls, he argued, would strengthen, not weaken, the home.

Trained in the European mode of homemaking and child care, a Muslim wife and mother would acquire necessary skills; taught in a

Muslim school she would cultivate good character as well. The debate did not yet include the possibility of training girls for jobs— that would not become an issue until the 1950s. Statistics confirm the small incidence of female education. According to the 1931 census, the vast majority of Arab children were not receiving instruction, though boys outnumbered girls in school.’®

Arab school education peaked at age seven or eight for girls, probably because at this age parents began to consider the demands

of purdah. Arab girls’ education at English school ended at age twelve, and private instruction ended at eleven, suggesting that more liberal parents who sent their daughters to English schools postponed purdah until puberty.

A nearby example of female secular education was established in Zanzibar in 1927 by the government in cooperation with local Muslims. The Zanzibar school began with only sixteen girls, but 15. Ibid., p. 3. 16. The 1931 census covered “non-natives’’ only, thus excluding Muslims such as the Twelve Tribes who could not qualify as Arabs. These figures for Arabs represent the Muslim elite and the recent Hadrami migrants to Mombasa. Twelve percent of 3,325 boys were in school (9 percent) or receiving private instruction (3 percent); 5 percent of 2,375 girls were in school (3 percent) or

receiving private instruction (2 percent). Kenya Colony and Protectorate, Report of the Non-Native Census, 6 March 1931 (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1932), table 32, p. 130. By 1932, of the non-Arab schools available, the CMS in Mombasa had “many Mohammedans,” and Miss Lloyd trained seven girls in “domestic work, welfare work, and teaching.” Arab girls were not included

among these seven. KNA Coast 2/529; Inspector of Schools, 1932 Annual Report, Coast. By 1935, the CMS Mombasa had sixty girls, who appear from the context of the evidence to be Muslim. KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1935, p. 30.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 107 expanded to eighty within six months. The curriculum focused primarily on such domestic skills as needlework, cooking, child care, and hygiene, although the three Rs and geography were included. Cooking was taught in an Arab-style kitchen. Mothers attending a demonstration of baby care performed by the students were suitably impressed. A crucial ingredient to parental support was the progress made by the girls in religious training and Arabic, subjects in which they outperformed the boys. Well aware of Muslim apprehensions, the school administrators allowed no “‘westernizing”

except in the area of hygiene. Strict purdah was maintained in the school building, an old Arab house well suited for privacy. Fathers were barred from visiting the school except on a special day set aside when the girls did not attend. Finally, a European mistress familiar with Muslim ways was found.!”

The Zanzibar school strongly influenced the history of education in Mombasa. By 1932 women students from the-school had married and moved to the city. Their example enhanced the case for female secular education. Government officials raised the issue in speeches marking the end of the 1932 school year at the Mombasa Arab Boys’ School.®

Decisive action came not from the government but from Sheik Mohamed Abdallah Ghazali.!? Ghazali, a truck driver descended on his mother’s and father’s sides from influential families, had studied

under Sheik Al-Amin and devoted his spare time to religious discussion and debate. Widely read in Egyptian liberal writers, he argued that elementary education was too important to be restricted to a few. In 1933 he started a boys’ madrasa, which taught history, mathematics, and other subjects in addition to Arabic and religion to 17. Zanzibar Education Department, “The Arab Girls’ School of Zanzibar,” Oversea Education 1, no. 4 (July 1930), 125-30. 18. KNA Coast 2/529, Inspector of Schools, 1932 Annual Report. In 1928, the acting director of education recommended taking “‘the training of girls into consideration equally with that of boys,” but it is not clear if he had the coast in mind. CPA ED 3/1, memo regarding Round Table Conference on Education policy in Kenya to Colonial Secretary, 18.4.28, p. 12. 19. Unless otherwise documented, the information about Ghazali’s activities comes from interviews with his wife, Zainab binti Adam Musa, and a close friend and disciple, Saqqaf Alawy. See Salim, Peoples, pp. 153, 162.

108 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS children who had completed Koranic school. Ghazali’s madrasa met with remarkable success, so much so that after one year it moved to

a new building donated by Sir Ali bin Salim. Called the Ghazali Private Muslim School, it received an additional 50,000 shillings from the Wakf Commission and books from Egyptian supporters. Ghazali’s popularity extended to conservative Hadrami families, who previously had refused to send even their sons to school.

In 1935 or 1936, Ghazali decided to open his school to girls. He trained his wife, Zainab binti Adam Musa, and her half-sister, Bahia Ali, as teachers; he himself taught the girls Arabic and religion. The first students were daughters of Ghazali’s neighbors, including a Baluchi, a Three Tribes girl, an Indian, a Mazrui, the daughters of the Arab member of the Legislative Council, and Ghazali and Bi Zainab’s own daughter. Shortly thereafter other leading families began sending their daughters. Perhaps encouraged by Ghazali’s success, the government began providing a few classes for girls at the Arab Boys’ School.”

In 1938 the government absorbed the Ghazali Private Muslim School. The committee of Muslim community leaders whom Ghazali

had invited to oversee the private school was composed largely of men in the government. Following their advice, Ghazali agreed to the government takeover, on the understanding that Arabic and religious instruction would remain in the curriculum. He and Bi Zainab were to be employed by the government. The boys from the Ghazali Mus-

lim School entered the Government Arab Boys’ School and a new Government Arab Girls’ School opened with one hundred students.”!

The girls’ curriculum included domestic science in addition to ‘Arabic, Swahili, and ordinary School subjects,” under the supervision of a European mistress, who was aided by Bi Zainab and a third Arab woman. Sheik Ghazali continued to give Arabic and religious lessons each Saturday morning.2” Eventually girls trained in the school helped teach there. Throughout the 1940s, the school 20. The Parents’ Committee of the Arab Boys’ School advised admitting girls in 1936, KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1935, p. 29. See also KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1936, and Mombasa Times, 13.11.36; 25.1.36. 21. KNA ADM 35/1/8/4 vol. TI, Coast Province Annual Report 1938, p. 25. 22. KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1938.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 109 continued to attract students. Attendance nearly doubled between 1945 and 1952, necessitating a new building in the latter year.”°

The 1950s marked the take-off point for female education in Mombasa. Ghazali’s effort had borne fruit and as young girls who entered school emerged with their reputations intact, more people in the community assented to the principle. Community leaders such as Liwali Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy sent their daughters, and others followed suit. Within a few years relatives and neighbors who had earlier criticized attendance were sending their own daughters.”

Colonial officials, local citizens, and visiting Muslims waged a propaganda campaign advocating women’s education.”°

As the standard of education rose for Arab boys, more of them came to want wives with at least minimal education. Thus, fear that

men would begin to marry outside the community was a great incentive to educating girls.2° Whereas the old argument had been that educating girls contributed to the disruption of the family, now the reverse formulation prevailed. By educating boys but not girls, stated one man in a letter to the editor of the Mombasa Times, “‘we are creating a disunity between the male child and the female mem-

bers of his household—a barrier to family life.”*’ Indeed, this imbalance explained the “late night [gatherings] of many young men,” according to one conscientious reformer.”® With an enlarged building in 1952, the new principal, Sylvia Gray,

set about recruiting students. Colonial administrators and parents

credit much of the success of the Arab Girls’ School to Gray’s efforts. Because of her previous experience in Middle Eastern schools, 23. In 1945, there were 114, KNA MSA/3, MDAR 1945; in 1949, there were

172, CPA’ ED 1/45, Acting Senior Education Officer, Coast Province, to Director of Education, Nairobi, 28.9.49; in 1952, 220, Zainab Jama Issa, “Arab Girls’ Primary Education in Mombasa, Kenya,” an essay for the Institute of Education, University of Newcastle upon Tyne, c. 1963, p. 9. [am grateful to the author for allowing me to use her essay. 24. Interviews with Khadija Bunu and Swafiya Muhashamy. 25. Mombasa Times, 22.9.54; 20.10.54; 4.7.57; 5.9.57.

26. Letter to the editor from “The Same Arab Girl,” Mombasa Times, 6.8.57; interviews with Zainab Jama Issa and Hafsa Mohamed Baghozy. 27. Abdalla Said Zubedi, 21.9.57.

28. Faraj Omar Dumila, Honorable Secretary of the Falah Library and Dramatic Society, Mombasa Times, 1.1.59.

110 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS she realized the need to convince parents that the school was respectable.” Gray visited homes to explain the school and encourage attendance. The parent-teacher alliance continued once

the student was enrolled. If a girl was seen misbehaving on the streets, Gray would report the child directly to her parents.*° Regard for Muslim values was a key element in the school’s success. The importance of maintaining Muslim customs was dramatically illustrated when 120 students withdrew because the school opened without a purdah wall.*’ This inauspicious beginning did not affect

future development, however. Inclusion of religious and Koranic studies encouraged parental support. Parents regularly voted their confidence in Gray and “‘the particular care she took not to offend any customs and traditions.’°* Gray introduced important modifications in the curriculum, which were not necessarily consistent with Muslim aspirations for women. She instituted Girl Guides, swimming, camping trips, hikes, and field trips as part of the school activities.°> The process of obtaining parental permission for these

expeditions involved careful explanation and justification. For example, Sheik Maamun, the kadhi of Mombasa and a conservative supporter of the earlier Ghazali school, once interrogated Gray about a field trip to the port to see the dhows. He asked why the trip was necessary and what precautions would be taken to protect the girls’ heshima in the presence of the boatmen.™

Some of Gray’s innovations, intended to stimulate the girls’ 29. CPA ED 1/45, Provincial Commissioner, Coast, to Provincial Education

Officer, Coast, 26.11.56; CPA ED 1/45, 27.10.59. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed. 30. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 31. Zainab Jama Issa, p. 9.

32. Mombasa Times, 13.11.58. Arab Parents’ Association commendation, Mombasa Times, 26.6.58; Faraj Dumila, Mombasa Times, 22.1.59; Zainab Jama Issa, p. 15; interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano.

33. “Not so long ago” physical training was not practicable; now it is held

because purdah has lost its force. Lambert, “Arab Community,” p. 81. Recognizing parental fear, these activities were carried on within the context of purdah. Thus, Gray asked that the Government House grounds be used for Girl Guides since the girls were in purdah and required a private place for their meetings. CPA ADM 10/58, Secretary of the Girl Guides to Private Secretary, Government House, Nairobi, 7.5.52. 34. Interview with Sulafa Mazrui.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 111 physical development, outraged parents. Controversy broke out over

the introduction of hula hoops. Radio programs carried on a fivemonth campaign to remove the gadgets.** Sheik Abusuleiman, the president of the Arab Schools Parents’ Association, “‘spoke with feeling on the matter,” stating that hula hoops had been banned in Iran, Egypt, and one Mombasa school.*° However, some people argued that hula hoops were the modern version of a fine Arabic custom, one which should be regulated but not banned. One man wrote to the Mombasa Times that the opponents should understand that this game is a new form of the well known game

‘Kiuno”’ which is revered by many Arabs for its matrimonial virtue. ...I fully agree that hula hoops should not be played by

Arab girls in the open air and before the opposite sex, but | object that Arab girls should be altogether deprived of this thrilling and fascinating game. Go on girls! ”°®

Under Gray’s urging, Arab girls began to sit for the Kenya Asian Preliminary Examination, which entitled them to enter secondary school. In 1954 five out of twelve girls passed and began attending Coast Girls’ School or Star of the Sea School.*? Parents supported

this move to introduce girls into secondary school, hitherto the domain of Asian girls, though there was some dismay that afternoon classes were introduced to prepare girls for the KAPE. These afternoon classes cut into religious madrasa, which had become increasingly | important as the government cut down the religious content of the Arab Girls’ School curriculum.”

Another change in policy sought to increase the benefits of the Arab Girls’ School by lowering the maximum age of entry. Earlier, 35. Mombasa Times, 1.5.59. 36. Mombasa Times, 23.4.59. 37. The hip rotation found, for example, in puberty rites dances. 38. Tilmidh Fikri Abadha, Mombasa Times, 14.5.59. 39. A. V. Hatfield, Education Officer, Mombasa Times, 22.2.55. Thirty-four

out of eighty Arab boys passed, the first time for them, too; CPA ED 1/17, Survey of Arab Education 1954. Zainab Jama Issa (p. 15) says that in 1952, twelve girls sat for the KAPE, one passed; in 1963, eighty-six girls sat for the Kenyan Preliminary Examination. 40. CPA ED 1/45, Letter of 120 parents to Director of Education, Nairobi, 27.10.59; interview with Sheik Abusuleiman.

112 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS girls received a firm background in religion before entering the school. Although this assuaged some parental anxieties by purport-

edly immunizing the girls against possible Western influence, it meant that students were close to puberty on their arrival.*! To avoid this, Gray allowed only girls under age nine to begin school, so

each could receive at least three or four years of schooling before being withdrawn at puberty.*?

Despite its success, the school included only a small minority of Mombasa’s Muslim girls. The student population mushroomed from 220 in 1952, to 572 in 1957, to 880 in 1962, a fourfold increase in ten years. Nonetheless, nearly 70 percent of teenage Arab girls during

those years received no secular education, and only 20 percent attended school for five years or more.** Statistics that itemize the attendance of Muslim girls in Mombasa are not available for later

years. However, by 1969 for the whole Coast Province, where Mombasa would be among those having the highest percentage of 41. Such immunization and strict upbringing were recommended by Faraj Dumila, Honorable Secretary of the Falah Committee, Mombasa Times, 1.1.59.

42. In 1954, 80 percent of the 350 students at the Arab Girls’ School were in the first three grades. CPA ED 1/17, Survey of Arab Education 1954; interview with Zainab Jama Issa; Lambert, “Arab Community,” p. 76. 43. For student attendance figures see Zainab Jama Issa, p. 9; Mombasa Times, 20.9.57. The 1962 census included an analysis of education of Arab

} women born between 1943 and 1947. Once again, analysis is hindered by the racial categories that plague the colonial period. The Arabs in the school population are not necessarily Arabs of the 1962 census, but the data nonetheless

show patterns: 67 percent had no schooling, by which apparently is meant secular education; 13 percent had up to five years of schooling; 20 percent had

five or more years of schooling. Kenya, Ministry of Economic Policy and Development, Statistical Division, Kenya Population Census 1962, vol. 4, Non-

African Population (Nairobi: Government Printer, March 1966), table 17, p. 66. Another study, which covered all of Kenya, found that ‘“‘Arab girls reaching secondary school were few” in 1961. Even African girls from the coast were underrepresented in Form 4 (Grade 12), comprising 6.5 percent of

the total African population, but only 1.1 percent of the Form 4 students. African boys, on the other hand, were overrepresented in Form 4, being 6.2 percent of the total population, but 9.6 percent of the Form 4 students. C. Arnold Anderson, Mary Jean Bowman, and Jerry B. Olson, with aid from Kusum Misra, Students, Teachers, and Opportunity Perceptions in Kenya, 1961-1968 (Chicago: University of Chicago Comparative Education Center, 1969), 1:8, 10.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 113 girls enrolled, only 35 percent or primary students were girls. For upper grades the proportion declined: 27 percent of Form 1 (ninth

grade) and 24 percent of Form 4 (twelfth grade) students were female.”

Although most girls continued to drop out after a few years of schooling, a few stayed on. They were given special teacher-training

at the Arab Girls’ School beginning in 1956. Anticipating the perpetuation of the racially categorized education of the colonial period, the government and the Muslim elite demanded female Arab

teachers for Arab students. Fatima and Mariam Mahmoud, Raya Mohamed Rashid, and Zainab Jama Issa, the first Mombasa-trained

Arab women teachers, were offered jobs at the school despite an “embargo on recruitment.’*° These four had received different preparations before arriving at the Arab Girls’ School. Zainab Jama Issa had attended the Zanzibar school, then the Arab Girls’ School and Star of the Sea Secondary School; the Mahmoud sisters obtained home tutoring in Lamu and then came to Mombasa when plans for

them to go to Zanzibar fell through.*® Completing an intensive training course in 1957, the four took teaching jobs.*” The increasing

popularity of girls’ education and the opening of girls’ schools in coastal towns after 1951 led some women into the work force as teachers.

44. International Labour Office (hereafter ILO), Employment, Incomes and Equality (Geneva: International Labour Office, 1972), pp. 296-97. 45. CPA ST/ED 14151 documents nos. 2 and 4; Mombasa Times, 20.9.57. The government sociologist, G. M. Wilson, wrote in 1957, it is “‘obvious that schools based on communal and religious requirements must be retained for a good number of years to come’’; ‘Racial Accommodation,” in ““MSS,”’ p. 607.

46. Interviews with Zainab Jama Issa, Fatma Mahmoud, and Mariam

Mahmoud.

47. Theirs was not the only route. Swafiya Muhashamy, the first Arab woman graduate of the Coast Teacher Training College, attended Star of the Sea School, a madrasa in Malindi, and then a Goan school, to the shock of her relatives. In March 1957, she entered CTTC and remained, despite marriage and pregnancy. In 1959, she began teaching at the Aga Khan Girls School, Mombasa; interview.

114 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS The Fruits of Female Education

Whereas the rationale for girls’ education in the 1930s had been better preparation for motherhood and wifehood, by the mid-1950s education for employment had become an additional goal. Some of the new professions did not challenge purdah. Indeed they grew out of it, for secluded women needed female doctors, midwives, and teachers.” The first signs of change came in denial. Speaking in May 1956, the president of the Arab Girls’ School Parents’ Association reaf-

firmed that the progress of the community would depend on mothers and asserted that the goal of women’s education should not necessarily be employment.” In the next year, the Parents’ Association recommended that education be “biased toward the teaching of religious matters and domestic subjects since for a long time, taking

into account their tradition, they will not be expected, in large numbers, to take up any other form of employment.”° But this position was later clarified: the association “would not interfere in any way’ with young women who chose to work in an office or elsewhere.>?

Even though domestic subjects predominated at the Arab Girls’ School, the possibility of employment enticed many parents to send their daughters to school.** Because of the shortage of trained women, those who completed Standard (Grade) Six or Seven were trained as teachers and hired. “Those people who had education were given jobs and responsibilities, and the others saw what these people [received],” explained a 1956 graduate.°° 48. See Ester Boserup, Woman’s Role in Economic Development (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1970), pp. 125-30. 49. Mombasa Times, 30.5.56; see also 26.6.58 and 21.9.57. 50. Mombasa Times, 20.6.57. 51. Mombasa Times, 1.8.57. 52. This point was stressed by Lambert, in “Arab Community,” p. 78, and by various Arab Girls’ School graduates. Ellen Gesmer makes a similar argument in her study of female education in Lamu. See Ellen Frances Gesmer, “The Wealthy and the Pious: Ideology, Social Structure and Secular Education

in Lamu, Kenya,” BA dissertation, Radcliffe College, 1972; and Lyndon Harries, “The Arabs and Swahili Culture,” Africa 34 (1964), 224-30. 53. Interview with Fatma Mahmoud; also Alya Namaan, graduate of 1953.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 115 By the mid-1950s women could hold several skilled occupations without compromising their respectability—dressmaking, nursing, midwifery, and schoolteaching..“ Community acceptance of the latter work for women was the culmination of years of persuasion. Dressmaking, on the other hand, required little change in values— handwork was traditionally a woman’s occupation and could be done in the privacy of one’s home.*

Muslim women responded slowly to European training in health occupations, despite the expressed need for women medical staff that purdah inspired. The popularity of the Lady Grigg Maternity Home, which opened in 1927, indicates that Muslim women were eager for European-style medical care.5© Moreover, complete purdah demanded female doctors. In 1930 the Afro-Asian Association of the Twelve Tribes requested a woman doctor to inspect female corpses.>’

Furthermore, the control of venereal disease suffered because of both a lack of female doctors and the local interpretation of purdah. In 1947 the kadhi and chief kadhi decided that “according to Sheria a woman cannot be subjected to the inspection of her private parts

on suspicion of V.D. or infectious disease.” She could only be “treated for a known disease.” Since gonorrhea can only be diagnosed by a vaginal swab, this application of purdah presented authorities with a dilemma. The makadhi further argued that women should be treated by female doctors, although if necessary a male doctor could be employed in the presence of special witnesses.°® Again in 1953, the issue of female doctors emerged when a new maternity clinic opened on the mainland. According to a government

report, “the local Muslims objected to the examination of their

54. Mombasa Times, 4.7.57. 55. Interview with Alya Namaan. 56. KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1927, p. 3; KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1930, p. 10.

57. CPA ADM 33/2, thirtieth meeting of the Health Committee, 7.10.30, minute 182, no. 2. 58. Emphasis added. The witnesses could be: (1) her husband, (2) any male who was not a possible marriage partner, and finally, (3) a female “not sus-

pected of immoral conduct.” CPA PH 3/3, no. 71, 14.1.47. See also “‘the seclusion of women . .. effectively stops the control of venereal disease which is ruining the race,” KNA LMU/2, Lamu District Annual Report 1931, p. 4.

116 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS womenfolk by a male doctor, and for this and other reasons the clinic has developed into a general dispensary.”°? The interest of Mombasa’s citizens in having a woman doctor was

not matched by enthusiasm in sending their daughters for medical training. In 1940 the Lady Grigg Welfare League enrolled three girls in a nurses’ training course, but none was from Mombasa. By 1948 the number of students had reached ten, four of whom left without finishing the three-year course.®° Plagued by the location in the midst of the brothels of Mwembe Tayari, the league built a new maternity home around 1954. Perhaps the reputation and location of the old clinic, some of whose students were discharged for “insubordination, immorality, and pregnancy,” kept “respectable” families from sending their daughters. At any rate, even the support and encouragement of the Arab leader Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy persuaded only a few Arab girls to join. By 1953, however, two Lamu girls had finished the Lady Grigg course and were practicing in Lamu, while another Arab Girls’ School graduate was enrolled in the training course.°? In Mombasa as in the rest of Kenya, women other than Asians or Europeans entered the secretarial work force in the 1960s, well after

teaching and health occupations had become acceptable.® Purdah made secretarial work less desirable than nursing or teaching since almost all offices put men and women in close contact with one another. Many viewed the office as an invitation to immorality. One letter to the editor from ‘‘An Arab Boy” described a scene in which “it is well-nigh impossible for a female who works amongst males to 59. KNA MSA/4, MDAR 1953, p. 31.

60. The girls were from Kilifi, Malindi, and Teita; CPA PH 4/1, Mombasa Branch Minutes, 16.4.40, no. 47; CPA PH 4/1, Medical Officer of Health to Municipal Board, Mombasa, 11.3.48, no. 52. 61. Ibid. 62. KNA LMU/4, Lamu District Annual Report 1953, p. 8.

63. For all Kenya by 1964, one-fifth of teachers were African women. Sharon Stichter, “Women and the Labor Force in Kenya,” Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), p. 61. The observation by an Ithnashari Asian man in 1954 that “only a casual glance into the town’s big companies and firms shows one young Muslim girl busily engaged in office work all day,”’ seems to reflect an Asian pattern that preceded the entry of other Muslim women; Mombasa Times, 13.4.54.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 117 avoid occasional glances and possible approaches from the male colleague at the next desk; and if he happens to be handsome, pity

the poor spouse.’ Such sexual tension was not merely male fantasy. The first Arab woman to work in a particular shipping firm reports feeling painfully conspicuous and conscious of the need to maintain her heshima. At first she was followed home from work and taunted; slowly she and her male colleagues grew used to the situation. However, another woman has not been allowed to follow a secretarial course because an office situation encourages the mixing of the sexes, which her father

feels is forbidden by Islam. Despite conflicting opinion, however, secretarial schools currently attract many Muslim girls who wish to take advantage of the expanding commercial sector in Mombasa.

Secretarial work differs from teaching and midwifery in another key respect, which accounts for some of the opposition to women in the office. Female secretaries compete with male secretaries, whereas

women teachers and midwives merely take jobs that men cannot satisfactorily fill. In Kenya, as in most African colonies, clerical work offers relatively high status and good wages compared with manual labor or domestic work, which represent the principal employment for men. Seventy years earlier, women in the United States were recruited into clerical work and the new, sex-neutral machine, the typewriter, became a perfectly feminine item. But in Kenya by the 1950s typewriters were “manned” by men who did not wish to relinquish their positions.©

Opening secretarial work to females was only one of the many controversies over women during the 1950s. A series of debates in 64. Mombasa Times, 20.7.57. 65. The typewriter and female employees were accepted at the same time in America, beginning in the 1880s when rapid expansion of businesses created a need. At first, clerical work had tones of immorality; then as women came to

dominate the field, they were seen as perfectly suited for such jobs. See Margery Davies, “Woman’s Place is at the Typewriter: The Feminization of the Clerical Labor Force,” Radical America 8, no. 4 (August 1974), 1-28. 66. Boserup (pp. 130-35) indicates that “in developing countries, we never find women in the majority in clerical occupations.” Offering and explaining

some exceptions, she predicts that it will take “some time for the clerical profession in Africa to become ‘feminized’ to any large extent.”

118 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS the Mombasa Times preserves the feeling of the 1950s, as did Sheik Al-Amin’s paper in the 1930s. The opinions expressed in articles, in letters to the editor, and in reports of speeches give a more rounded view of popular opinion than did Sheik Al-Amin’s AL-Isiah,

which primarily represented his own perspective. However, the Mombasa Times was also biased, expressing the opinions of literate people, overwhelmingly men. The progressive elite used the radio and the Times’s “Arab Weekly Page” for their propaganda. Both Sheik Al-Amin’s essays and the exchanges in the Mombasa Times reflect Muslims grappling with the cultural imperialism that attended colonial rule. After twenty years, the battle for women’s education had few vocal opponents, even if the number of girls who

went to school remained small. But the question of threats to the home, obedience, women’s role, and the overabsorption of Western ways still lingered on in a 1950s incarnation.

The new issue was at once abstract and concrete. It came as a debate over sexual equality and involved women’s autonomy and

freedom. The Mombasa Times reported the words of Sheik Abusuleiman Mazrui, at the time a radio star and active supporter of girls’ education. “Sex equality the West’s “deadliest misfortune,’” ran the headline. The article continued, “‘Signs of its development are apparent within this community, and something must be done to nip

that development in the bud....([In] many instances the solidarity of the home [is] being disrupted by the carefree attitude of its female

part. Divorces ensue almost invariably.’ The law, stated Sheik Abusuleiman Mazrui, arranged for men to support their wives, not the other way around: Admittedly, by putting these obligations on the husband the law recognizes the natural state of affairs whereby the man’s proper function is to work and provide for his wife and family. But what is a wife? A fellow-participant in the money market, or the lady who personally looks after your house, ensures your happiness and comfort, and brings up your children? .. . It is all very well to be influenced by cultures other than our own, but when these

tend to go against the Rule of Nature, then we must put the brakes on. To try and straighten Adam’s Rib is to run the risk of ,

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 119 breaking it—and hurting yourself in so doing. ...It was created curved, so that it might embrace in that curvature the happiness of the home, where it truly belongs.®’

The speech clearly hit a tender spot, for it sparked a vigorous two-

month exchange of letters to the editor, nearly all from Arab and Asian Muslim men. The Young Arab Union organized a debate on the subject of sex equality, during which Sheik Abusuleiman Mazrui went farther out on a limb, asserting a correlation in the incidence of divorce “‘proportionate to the degree of independence enjoyed by women.” Working in the kadhi’s office, he was familiar with local

statistics, he claimed, and they demonstrated a low divorce rate compared with the American divorce rate of one in six and the Swedish rate of one in thirty-six.°° He was badly mistaken, because for the sixty years of registration of Muslim marriages and divorces the proportion hovered at about one in two in each community in Kenya, and two in three for Mombasa.®’ One reader, an ‘“‘Arab Muslim,” scored him for this discrepancy: “‘Mr. Suleiman ought to know that there are more divorce cases in the Muslim population in this town than for any other resident community. There is a good deal more domestic unhappiness which never comes to light in some

of the Arab-Muslim homes.” And the writer also asserted, “my brand of Islam, not his, acknowledges division of labour and sphere ‘of influence but confers equality to men and women alike.”” As this letter indicates, even the advocates of sex equality believed that sex differences were essential.”? For Sheik Abusuleiman the

difference had biological origins: childbirth and child rearing 67. Mombasa Times, 5.7.54. Hanna Papanek argues that men from groups most exposed to social change see women as “the repositories of ‘traditional’ values ...in order to reduce the stresses men face.” “Development Planning for Women,” Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 15. Mernissi discusses a similar anxiety in Morocco about the effect of sex equality on the Muslim family and society. Pp. villi, x-xii, passim. 68. Mombasa Times, 19.5.54.

69. See chapter 3, note 122. 70. Mombasa Times, 14.5.54. 71. See also an Asian, Mombasa Times, 23.4.53; and an Arab, Mombasa Times, 29.4.54.

;

120 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS demanded that women remain secluded with the home as the focus of their lives. As he put it, “Since the boot of motherhood, with all its responsibilities, ison the [woman’s] foot it should remain indoors, away from the dust of the outside world.”’* Not everyone agreed

that biological differences require women ‘to avoid the outside world. One Arab man offered the opinion that “in addition to the home, which claims the first attention of the female sex, the proper sphere for the exercise of her energy and effort are .. . the economic, social, educational, commercial and politic[al fields].”” The debate involved not only sociology and biology, but religion as well. Several opponents pointed to the Koranic injunction that

women must obey their husbands.” Did this not mean that sex equality was impossible? In the same vein they bandied about the example of women’s emancipation in Turkey. There women were

seen praying in the mosques and they walked unveiled in the streets.’> Opponents of sex equality saw this behavior as evidence that ‘Turkey is separate from the Muslim religion.” The issues reemerged in a radio debate on the proposition that “the cinema is harmful to women.” The Mombasa Times reported

that the question carried in the negative and thus offered “yet | further proof that the Arab’s attitude toward women is undergoing a change.””” Needless to say, “the Arab” was the Arab male, for no

women participated in the debate. The cinema’s opponent emphasized that the notion of romance put forth in movies undermined the “sacred institution of marriage”

and that women were “particularly susceptible” to these notions. ; This contention was challenged by the cinema’s supporter, who 72. Mombasa Times, 19.5.54. 73. Mombasa Times, 29.4.54. 74. Mombasa Times, 11.5.54, 19.5.54; the Prophet had increased women’s tights but had not given them equality in the Western sense, 27.5.54. 75. “An Asian,” Mombasa Times, 5.5.54.

76. “An Asian,” Mombasa Times, 11.5.54. See also Mohamed Suleiman — Mazrui (Abusuleiman), 19.5.54. Anxiety about women turning away from

religion: 9.7.57, 20.7.57, 27.4.54. .

77. 25.8.54. Abusuleiman Mazrui judged the arguments of the sides and was forced to declare in favor of the motion’s opponents, despite his own . feelings about sex equality.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS ; 121 felt that new institutions must evolve and\that the social changes

affected both men and women: |

For better or for worse, the cinema has found a place in our social life. It has revolutionised, at least in us men, our concep-

| tion of love. I submit that to live with this new type of husband, a new type of wife is required... . Either the cinema is a good thing or it is bad. But it cannot be good to me and bad to Fatma. Yes. Clark Gable might “impress” her. But since no one objects

argument! |

if Ava Gardner impresses me, I fail to see the potency of the

The rebuttal explored how women were affected by these role models. Movies could not be beneficial to women who were unable to understand English or Hindustani, argued the cinema’s opponent, though he did not explain how they could at the same time be harmful. Not so, came the reply, for “a way of life can be depicted without a single word being uttered.”

All in all, the debate centered around the role of cinema in “modernizing” marriage relationships. Not only in the models it provided, but also as an attraction outside the home, the cinema was seen by one opponent as undermining a Muslim marriage. “I have two wives,” said one man, “and it is certainly no pleasure to _ me to go home after work and find, as often I do, a note on the table saying “Have gone to ladies show. Your lunch is in the meat safe’—cold, of course!”

_ The positions advanced were sincere, if paternalistic, attempts ‘to determine what was best for women and society. Although one

“debater challenged the double standard, under the principle of providing “modern” wives for “modern” husbands, neither the debators nor the writers of letters to the editor asked how women might perceive these questions, nor did any of them report women’s responses. Arab and African women, because of shyness, illiteracy, ~ or disinterest, rarely participated in the newspaper debates. Occasionally a woman broke the silence to focus attention on the

areas where paternalism had failed. For example, despite the frequent appearance in court of deserted and destitute -women, there

was little public recognition of the problem. Since the Koran

122 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS assigned the responsibility of caring for a woman to her father, husband, or brother, the issue was assumed to be settled. Not so, claimed a young Arab woman, who advocated employment for women:

Why should Arab girls learn only housework and religion? It is due to our parents’ ideas that for a long time we have not been expected to take up any other form of employment... . Ido not think there are any rules in our religion that stop us working. ... So, please, parents, try to let us take higher studies, and let us work like other people and do not try to give us only lessons in domestic science, because the time has changed and we cannot depend on cooking for a living. Some of us have no brothers. Our parents expect to die before us, so you think there will always be a husband to support us?

What do you suggest we do when we haven’t one? ...I would rather risk the temptation of an office than ...sin because of hunger.” Such reasoning did not convince the young woman’s opponents, who charged that divorce would result when both husband and wife worked.” Furthermore, “an Arab Boy” claimed society must guard against the “career woman,” because

first and foremost she will care less about her children and, instead of their being an economic asset, they will become an economic burden. She tends to dislike housework and will turn the children over to an ayah as sofo]n as she can. She will never give much of herself to her husband. Thus she will grow up in a culture that puts a higher value on getting and spending than on conceiving and bearing.

For decades in coastal society children had been raised by mayaya

(nannies), neighbors, or relatives, rather than by their mothers, without obvious ill effects. His failure to consider such an obvious point about his own society suggests that his real concern was not 78. Mombasa Times, 9.7.57, 6.8.57. 79. “An Arab Boy,” Mombasa Times, 20.7.57.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 123 the “abandoned” child, but rather the abandoned sex role. The “Arab Boy” capped his criticism of career women by quoting a European psychiatrist to the effect that overly aggressive women tend to choose easily dominated husbands. Such a situation, he concluded, is intolerable because it contradicts the Koran on wifely

obedience. While family life and its attendant issues consumed most of the debate, the buibui represented purdah and the female role in very concrete terms. No one argued in public that women ought to go out

only after sundown and then inside a tent as in the old days, but wearing a buibui remained an important outward sign of purdah in the 1950s. Looking for religious sanction, some people argued that the custom of veiling entered Islam with the Persians, 125 years after the Prophet’s death, and therefore was not obligatory.®! But most people leaned toward the sentiment of the “Arab Boy,” who forecast that “when the “bui-bui’ is dropped, Mombasa will be an arena of sex gladiators for certain.’”®?

In the past twenty years the custom of veiling has declined, and

Mombasa has not become an arena of sex gladiators. The vast majority of Muslim women still wear their buibui, though most do not cover their faces and chests. Mombasa is in the vanguard in this respect; elsewhere on the coast, for example in Lamu, women in the streets show only their eyes, while they hold the buibui across their noses.°° In Mombasa secretaries remove their buibui in the office. Young schoolgirls, whose counterparts ten years ago would have worn buibui, now wait until they have completed school or are well through it. To postpone wearing a buibui is one matter; for a forty-year-old 80. Mombasa Times, 6.8.57.

81. Mombasa Times, 20.5.54; the “Arab Girl” agreed, Mombasa Times, 8). Mombasa Times, 29.7.57, and the speech of Mohamed Suleiman Mazrui (Abusuleiman), 19.5.54. 83. Purdah prevented Lamu women from participating in a beauty contest. The District Community Development Officer expressed “disappointment at apathy towards the nation-wide exercise”; Daily Nation, 29.10.73. This event would align conservative Muslims with American women’s liberation supporters, an unstable alliance, to say the least.

124 BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS woman to remove one that she has worn since before puberty is another. Some of the early graduates of the Arab Girls’ School who work in Nairobi shed the buibui there but wear it when they return

to the coast. Their first experiences in public without a buibui brought acute anxiety, as one woman described:

[In 1955] I was still wearing purdah but I wasn’t covering myself. That was the first thing I did: I didn’t cover. To begin with I couldn’t walk. I thought every man’s eye wasonme.... In 1959 when I used to go out by car I never used to wear it at

all....[I would] go in the car, get out and go into the film, things like that. And then in 1963 I [took it off] completely. For about two or three years [at first] when | was not covering myself ...my sisters and my cousin also [were not]. After a few

years nearly everybody was not covering....And now these days there are so many not even wearing buibui. [For those who

never wore one, it is not much to go without], but those who used to wear and took it off were very few. If I go to Lamu [or Mombasa] these days, I still wear it because people know me, respect me, and they will despise me [if they see me without a buibui].” This woman’s former classmates generally do not care whether or not

their daughters wear a buibui. But they themselves would feel odd without one.® Total purdah is on the decline in Mombasa. The change is fed by the example of non-Muslims in Mombasa and by Western movies as much as by schooling and jobs. Women of all classes are experiencing the change.®* Still, there remains an incentive for retaining purdah, 84. Interview with Fatma Mahmoud. 85. Interviews with Alya Namaan, and Zainab Jama Issa. One parent of each of these women had not cared if they wore a buibui, which represents a very liberal attitude for the period before 1960. In both cases, however, community

pressure forced them to wear buibui. Not all graduates are liberal on these matters. Hafsa Mohamed Baghozy intends to raise her daughters as she was raised ; interview.

86. Contrast class differences in Cora Vreede-De Stuers, Parda: A Study of Muslim Women’s Life in Northern India (New York: Humanities Press, 1968), chapters 4-6.

BOOKS AND POCKETBOOKS 125 one which Muslim moralists did not intend in decreeing purdah to protect the modesty of women. While it can cover a woman, protecting her from spying eyes seeking to insult her, it can also prevent people from recognizing her. And thus many clandestine affairs are disguised by the gown intended to ensure heshima.

Forty years ago Sheik Al-Amin posed the question, “How do we imitate the Europeans?” and offered female education as an example of positive imitation. Nowadays people no longer withhold their daughters from school because they fear the pollution of heathen ideas, though many parents still see little advantage to be gained by paying school fees to educate a girl.®’ By the 1950s the question of Western influence still focused on women, in the context of family life and sex roles. Despite their efforts and although the colonial power is gone, the Muslim community continues to face the problem

of adjusting traditional values to contemporary circumstances. Evidence of the strain can be heard in a speech at the celebration of the Prophet’s birthday, which criticized the number of single men and women and exhorted young people to marry.2®> Women them-

selves are speaking out, though still in muted voices. Secretaries discuss the troubles of their friends who marry and divorce within | six months. The difficulty, they feel, is the husband’s expectation, buttressed by religious ideology, of total obedience and domesticity.

How the matter will be resolved is impossible to say. But as a minority religious group within postcolonial Kenya, Muslims now have even less control and influence than the previous generation over the forces that change their society.

87. In a study of families in and around Dar es Salaam, Majorie Mbilinyi found that urban opposition to girls’ education focused on high school fees, rural opposition on the need for the girls’ help at home. The Education of Girls in Tanzania (Dar es Salaam: Institute of Education, University College, 1969), pp. 43 and passim. 88.The nonmarried state only encourages people to become wandering women and playboys (called wahuni in Swahili), said the speaker at the April 3, 1973, public Maulidi. Sheik Muhammed Kassim Mazrui, the former chief kadhi, expressed similar sentiments at his religion class for women.

5 The Marginalization of Women’s Work While Sheik Al-Amin and other leading men lamented the pernicious influence of colonial penetration on social control and values, Mombasa’s female population felt the effects of colonial economic policies and processes. Essential elements of these policies included the

transition from slave to wage labor, the promotion of white settler farms up-country at the expense of African agriculture, and the development of Mombasa as a primary port for Kenya, Uganda, and northern Tanganyika. For women in particular, colonial policies eroded the patriarchal authority of Mombasa’s leading men. Yet colonialism fostered, indeed benefited, from a continued sexual asymmetry. In Kenya as a whole this is most clearly seen in the maintenance of women as subsistence farmers in the face of male labor migration. Women’s subsistence farming subsidized the low wages of male workers in towns and on European farms. Moreover, the rural areas supplied, without cost to the colonial administration, key social services such as the reproduction and socialization of new laborers and care for old, disabled, or sick workers.’ In Mombasa, women’s work became increasingly marginalized during the twentieth century. Unlike many men, most women were not

drawn into the growing sector of the city’s economy. New jobs as teachers, nurses, or secretaries became available, but these were beyond the reach of most women, as was wage labor in general. 1. For Mombasa in general, see Karim Janmohamed, “A History of Mombasa, c. 1895-1939: Some Aspects of Economic and Social Life in an East African Port Town During Colonial Rule,” dissertation, Northwestern University, 1978. Achola QO. Pala discusses the need to analyze ‘“‘the differential impact of ... socioeconomic conditions on men and women,” not just assume that men benefited from wage labor. “‘Definitions of Women and Development: An African Perspective,” Signs 3,no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 11. 126

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 127 Women in traditional occupations faced government regulation or

competition from those trained in European methods. Together with traditional skills, handicraft production that was not replaced by European imports represented a smaller and smaller portion of Mombasa’s total output of goods and services. Jobs created by the town’s expansion as a port went to men. Excluded from the formal sector of the economy, lower-class women turned to the jobs created by this influx of single men to earn money as prostitutes, informal wives, small-scale traders, or palmwine sellers. Such work in the informal sector was seldom lucrative (neither was most men’s work), but it did supplement the family income or provide a measure of economic autonomy for women.? Household Work

Most women in Mombasa have always done household labor, but this domestic work changed in two major ways between the late nineteenth century and World War I. In these years wage earners replaced slaves, and men of low status joined women as domestic servants. How households experienced these changes depended on their economic class. Families that could afford to own slaves and

later to employ servants made the adjustment without difficulty. In these families the supervisory work of the mistress remained essentially the same. However, in other families, declining fortunes after the abolition of slavery prevented the hiring of servants to replace slaves. Women in these households took on heavier work loads and therefore enlisted the aid of daughters, nieces, and other female relatives.

The effect of abolition on the work of women in lower economic categories is more difficult to determine. Abolition did not abruptly end a period of slave labor and begin a period of wage labor. Some domestic workers were wage laborers even before 1907. Female slaves were hired out to other families, often Indians, who were forbidden to own slaves, for perhaps four rupees a month of which the slave’s owner received half. Slaves who lived apart from their 2. For a discussion of the informal sector, see LO, Employment, Incomes and Equality, pp. 5-6, passim; for a critique of the ILO report and analysis of the intensely exploitative nature of the informal sector, see Leys, Underdevelopment in Kenya, pp. 258-71, especially p. 267.

128 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK Owners as wage earners before abolition theoretically doubled their income after emancipation without otherwise significantly altering their situation.* Not only did the pre-1907 period include wage as well as slave domestic workers, but also patterns deriving from slavery continued. Female slaves who had a personal affection for individual families continued to visit and help with housework. Some were kept on as head housekeepers. Such former slaves received presents and sometimes wages, but gifts given by the former owner were not wages as such. The labor and the gift reaffirmed a relationship previously defined by slavery. After abolition some women hired out as domestics. For four rupees per month, a woman would work all

day, take her meals at her employer’s house and return to her own home at night, a routine very similar to that of hired slaves before 1907.4

In the early twentieth century, men on the coast, even men of low status, were seldom employed as domestics. Yet by World War I

men were being recruited as domestic workers for Europeans. Wealthy non-Europeans soon began to recruit them also, according to various women.° The emergence of the “houseboy” at this time is even more remarkable in the light of other labor demands. While some men were becoming domestic servants, others, drawn

3. Cooper, p. 174; Strobel, “Slave and Free,” passim. Beech (“On Slavery,” a chapter in “On Swahili Life’) describes this procedure for men, but not specifically for female slaves. See also Baldock, p. 99. An attempt to recover back wages for a female slave who was hired out to an Indian at four rupees per month is found in LO B 3 1898/104. Frederick Cooper reports that wages in Zanzibar were cut after abolition; personal communication. 4. Interviews with Mwana Halima, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, Mohamed Ali Mirza, Bi Momo. Beech, “‘On Slavery,” in ‘‘On Swahili Life.”

5. Interviews with Bi Momo, Mwana Halima, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla. KNA MSA/6, Mombasa Political Record Book. vol. 2, c. 1913, pp. 66-67. A male

cook employed by a European is mentioned in a letter from the Mudir, Changamwe, to the district commissioner, Mombasa, KNA Coast 1/17/65, 13.2.13. KNA 16/103, Seyidie Province Annual Report 1917/18, p. 3. In 1922, the district commissioner remarked about the ‘“‘tendency of Europeans to go to the cheapest market and employ up-country natives as house boys... ,” KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1922, p. 2.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 129 from the same class, were being recruited as port workers or as porters for the Carrier Corps.° But the movement of men into domestic service was not primar-

ily a matter of European hiring preferences. Men needed money more than women, claimed several women, presumably because hut taxes, which had to be paid in cash, were charged to the male head of household. One of these women took a job as a domestic servant for a European family only after her husband died; she then needed money to support herself and her children. Second, women hastened

the entry of males into household labor by opting out of it themselves. Thus, after abolition some female ex-slaves chose not to continue domestic service because they got “big heads,” as one freeborn

woman said. In some cases they refused to do the heavier work of drawing water. Others fled domestic service because they preferred to work at home, husking, pounding, and grinding grain for sale. Still others went into business selling cooked foods, grinding and selling henna used to decorate the hands and feet for celebrations, combining and selling spices popular in coastal cooking, or doing similar tasks.’ These small-scale enterprises could be run from the home, involved little capital, competed minimally with child care and other domestic duties, and may have been more lucrative than domestic service. Women’s motivation for leaving domestic service may also have been influenced by the upper class’s disdainful view that working under supervision conveyed low status.® Or, the autonomy of determining one’s own workplace and living one’s own life-style, away from the eyes of a disapproving mistress of the household, may have been attractive enough to draw women away from paid domestic labor.’ 6.KNA 22/177, MDAR 1915/16, p. 3; KNA MSA/6, Mombasa Political Record Book, vol. 2, p. 165; KNA 16/103, MDAR 1917/18, p. 3; KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1921, p. 2. 7. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, Mwana Halima,

and Fatma Mohamed. See also Secretary of State v. Khalfan bin Hamed per Ali bin Nasar, Civil Appeal 2/1909, EFALR 3, pp. 16-20. 8. Reported for Lamu by el-Zein, p. 66. 9.In Latin America, domestic service is a strategy adopted by young women

migrating to the cities in order to escape rural poverty. See Elizabeth Jelin, “Migration and Labor Force Participation of Latin American Women: The Domestic Servants in the Cities,’ Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 129-41.

130 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK Despite widespread displacement by men, domestic service, particularly child care, remained a key source of wage labor for women in Mombasa. It is difficult to document this statistically because the data are incomplete and probably underreport those employed by Arab and Indian as distinct from European families. Furthermore, the only available figures report the aggregate number of female

workers for the entire Coast Province, not only Mombasa. Still, itis

, striking that domestic service accounted for over one-third of the 303 Coast Province “native” women who were reported to be employed in 1947, Furthermore, even though most domestics were men, child care was left to women. A yaya (nanny) received relatively good wages, averaging thirty-four shillings per month for the entire colony in 1934, which surpassed the wages of cooks, laundry workers, office “boys,” kitchen and garden workers, and general

house servants. The importance of child care as women’s main source of wage labor is reflected in the labor movement. Mayaya were the only women to take part in early labor organizing. In 1953 the Domestic and Hotel Workers’ Union in Mombasa had a section of nannies, although apparently only a few women participated.’°

The disappearance of slaves from household work and the appearance of men as domestic servants in the early twentieth century required adjustments in values and behavior, since domestic workers

in a household had social as well as economic relationships with their employers. Mwana Kupona’s admonition not to be overly familiar with slaves suggests that household slaves and mistresses felt some intimacy toward one another, developed over a lifetime together.’! If some freed slaves continued to participate in family celebrations and joined their mistresses’ dance associations, it is less likely that such ties would form between employer and employee.

Wage iabor also involved subordination, but it had less of the fiction of family, or the “kinship idiom,” as Marcia Wright calls it.!? If the transformation of slaves into ‘free’? wage earners disturbed 10. Stichter, pp. 56-59, table 4. For all of Kenya there were 976 female domestic servants, compared with 21,917 males. 11. Werner and Hichens, verse 20. 12. “Women in Peril,” pp. 805, 819.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 131 household relationships, the appearance of men in the kitchen must have jostled them even more. Men had to redesign their self-image to include housework.'* Whatever sorority had manifested itself in the kitchen before, certain topics of conversation and gossip now had to be avoided by the womenfolk. Furthermore, the mixing of

men and women may have brought tension, even though purdah was intended primarily to segregate women and men of equally high Status.

Skills and Handicrafts

Women augmented household work with other activities that varied according to social status. In the late nineteenth century, women’s extradomestic economic activities included agricultural work (primarily as slaves), skilled occupations, and handicraft pro-

duction.’* Except for agricultural labor, which declined after abolition, these activities have continued until the present. Without

demeaning their importance in providing some autonomy and subsistence for women, they must be recognized, within the context of Mombasa’s maritime expansion, as increasingly marginal opera-

tions, Rather than being drawn into the expanding commercial sector, most women continued to do domestic work or participate in the informal sector, providing age-old goods and services that represented a decreasing share of Mombasa’s economy as a whole.

Formerly the most important sector of the coastal economy, agriculture declined after abolition. Before 1907 most agricultural work was performed by female and male slaves; upper-class women, like their men, avoided manual labor if possible. Mervyn Beech, a seasoned coastal administrator, reported that slave women and men not only worked in their owners’ fields but also hired out as laborers to other plantation owners. There was no clear sexual division of labor. In the grain plantations outside Malindi slave women worked 13.The skills of cooking may have been learned on safari. Porters were given cooking utensils, apparently not as pay, but for their own use. See Rex v. Kufa Kulala et al., Criminal Revision 7/1904, EALR 1, p. 68. 14. New, pp. 63-64. Steere describes some slave women’s chores as pounding and sifting grain, p. 499.

132 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK alongside men in the fields. However, in Zanzibar women tended to separate and dry cloves while men picked them.**

After abolition several patterns emerge. Many male and female ex-slaves remained on the land, taking advantage of the few plots on crown lands offered by the colonial government.'® Others, both men and women, became squatters. By the outbreak of World War I, however, most agricultural wage laborers on European plantations

at the coast were men rather than women, up-country migrants rather than coastal people.'7 European cotton and sisal plantations

recruited Kikuyu and Kamba men from the interior, apparently because coastal men and women were unwilling to perform such labor. Neither European nor non-European plantation owners could

attract coastal workers because they were unable or unwilling to pay adequate wages and because potential workers could support themselves in most years by working their own plots.’® Up-country families, however, experienced a variety of pressures that induced

males to enter the migrant wage labor population. Post-abolition Mombasa represented a unique case on the coast. Here the decline of the importance of agricultural labor paralleled the rise of commerce and the physical expansion of the city into previously cultivated lands.

The reaction of freeborn female plantation owners to abolition varied. Around Malindi some freeborn women began cultivating their own plots. This was not true of Mombasa, nor of Pate Island

near Lamu. People in Pate found it inappropriate for freeborn women to work their fields. Consequently, land accumulated in the hands of men, by purchase or inheritance, while women invested their wealth in homes.’? 15. Beech, “On Slavery” in “On Swahili Life’; Cooper, pp. 157, 171; J. Bujra, “Production,” p. 22. 16. KNA Coast 1/6/496, Recorder of Titles, Mombasa, to provincial com-

missioner, Coast, 28.12.12. Two of the fourteen certificates of ownership

listed in this letter went to women. 17. See chapter 5, p. 136, note 31. 18, Janmohamed, “African Labourers,” pp. 161-63.

19. For Mombasa and Malindi, personal communication from Frederick Cooper; for Pate, Bujra, “Bajuni,” p. 28. Women now cultivate on Mafia Island, Caplan, Choice, p.9.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 133 Aside from agricultural labor, slaves and freeborn wo.nen in Mombasa drew upon other skills to earn money. A woman’s mahari and the money she earned was hers alone, and this right apparently

was respected for the most part. Thus, women only occasionally took their husbands to court for stealing their possessions.”° Among the best known, some would say notorious, women who earned a living through their skills were those of slave origin who performed and taught dances (ngoma), receiving fees for their services. One famous Manyema slave, Mwana Mgoi, who is said to have

come from Zanzibar to Mombasa in the early 1890s, gained a reputation for the puberty initiation dances held at her house and for other Manyema dances, including spirit possession. Another Manyema woman, Mwana Mtembwe, who arrived about the time of World War I, settled in the newer Majengo area to conduct ngoma.

Her power and success is commemorated, some say, by a baobab tree that sprang up at her doorstep the day she died. Her reputation clung to the district, which is now known as the Majengo of Mwana Mtembwe. Although they were neither the first nor the only makungwi, Mwana Mgoi and Mwana Mtembwe are thought by many to have begun female puberty rites.”* Passing on their knowledge of herbs and practices for generations,

midwives (wakunga) constituted an important occupational category.2* The inclusion of midwives with carpenters, masons, fishers,

and other male artisans in the ceremony acknowledging a new mmiji of the Twelve Tribes indicates that midwifery was not con-

ducted only within a family, but was considered an occupation. As compensation, a midwife received a fee for delivery and a fee for

the kikokoa tama, the cloth for collecting the placenta.** Further

tribute to the importance of these women is found in the proverbial caution against offending those who were indispensable: 20. Levy, p. 97; Steere, p. 493. 21. Interviews with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, Ma Iko, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, and Rehema Bashir.

22.Interviews with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano; Hyder Kindy, p. 2; Guillain, pt. 2, 2:247; Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, “Notes on Customs,” p. 27. 23.Interviews with Zubeda Salim, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, and Fatuma binti Ali bin Said Mandhry. *

134 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK “Don’t abuse the midwives while the child-bearing continues.” “ During the colonial period women with traditional skills faced competition from other Muslim women who had received European

instruction. Although only a few midwives were trained in European medicine, the government passed an ordinance in 1949 that required the licensing of midwives, with fines of up to fifty pounds for practicing without a certificate.*> It is unclear what criteria were used in issuing a license or how many traditionally trained midwives were prosecuted. Even religious teachers lost their early unrivaled position. Only the makungwi were spared this competition,

but even they encountered legislation in the 1930s that limited their activities.

Handicrafts provided other income opportunities for women. Mombasa gained a reputation in the latter part of the nineteenth century for plaited mats, used both for decoration and prayer. According to Bishop Steere in 1870, the “finest [were] made at Mombas [sic] .. . one of the chief employments of the lower classes of women.” Even upper-class women were plaiting by the 1890s.” Other handicrafts included embroidery of the white caps that men wore as a mark of being a Muslim and a Swahili. Men constructed the caps; women did the needlework. In Lamu, where plantation owners acutely felt the labor shortage after abolition, a district commissioner reported in 1911 that many freeborn men were “‘supported by the needlework of their women folk who embroider caps and also make matting bags.” Manufacturing matting bags for the

shipment of cloves seems to have been a special craft of Lamu,

24.This proverb parallels another: “Don’t abuse palmwine tappers while drunkenness persists.’ Farsi, p. 30. 25. Kenya Colony and Protectorate, Ordinances Enacted During the Year 1949, (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1949), NS 28, pp. 69-75. The “Nurses and Midwives Registration Ordinance 1949” would fine those who qualified

for registration but were not registered and who practiced nursing or midwifery for gain. An amendment in 1950 removed the italicized phrase. 26. Steere, p. 493; interviews with Bi Momo, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano; New, p. 63, these mats sold for three or four Maria Theresa dollars in Mombasa in the 1870s.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 135 just as the women and men of Pate were noted for weaving brightly colored embroidered cloths.?’ This home production has continued to the present day for several reasons. Some of the products, for example, mats or Swahili

caps, had no competition from European imports. Furthermore, they were distributed to an internal market and thus were not directly affected by the fluctuations of the international economy. Finally, because of Kenya’s low level of industrialization, which is also true for Mombasa, until recently women did not have the alternative of factory work to draw them away from home industry. Still, although handicrafts persist, they constitute an increasingly small portion of the items in a household, most of which are now manufactured locally or abroad. Retail Trade

In addition to handicraft production, some women engaged in small-scale retail trade, selling food products from their gardens or kitchens and adding new commodities as times changed—firewood, charcoal, kerosene, cooking oil, herbs, and leso, worn as clothing. Today’s women occasionally subcontract from Asian cloth merchants. In Mombasa these transactions were conducted in homes rather than in the marketplace, although Hadrami women at times worked in their husbands’ stores.7®> Because Muslim women, even

those in seclusion, trade in west Africa, the reason for Mombasa women’s exclusion from the marketplace does not originate in pur-

dah.2? A more basic economic fact accounts for their absence: most of Mombasa’s retail trade has been controlled by Asian or Hadrami shopkeepers and hawkers. 27. KNA LMU/8, Lamu District Annual Report 1910/11, p. 3; young schoolchildren also made matting bags. See also Mombasa Times, 3.1.35. For Pate,

see Hichens, ed., p. 77, note. These cloths were sold at least until 1850 in Lamu. Mat-making and other women’s work is described by Velten, pp. 168-76.

28.Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, personal communication from Fatma Hussein. A single exception in this pattern on the Swahili coast is a reference from Richard Burton (1:436) in Zanzibar in the 1850s. 29.In present-day Katsina, northern Nigeria, Muslim women control the retail grain trade from their houses. Polly Hill, “Hidden Trade in Hausaland,” Man 4, no. 3 (September 1969), 392-409. See also Cohen, chapter 2.

136 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK One particular form of retail trade, the selling of palmwine (tem-

bo), prompted official response before 1920. The production of tembo was in the hands of coconut farm owners, who hired male Mijikenda or ex-slave tappers. The freshly tapped palmwine was transported to Mombasa and then sold by women and men who ignored the Muslim prohibition against intoxicating drink. The names in one 1913 license application suggest the lower-class back-

eround of the women. Mixed with Muslim names of Fatuma, Ali, and Sood was at least one name of a Muslim descendant of a Christian, most likely an ex-slave from the Freretown mission, and other names drawn more from African than Arab society .*° The government’s concern about selling tembo was primarily the effect of drunkenness on labor and only secondarily the respectability of the business for women. The government bemoaned the lack of enthusiasm with which many local people viewed work for Europeans. The arrival of up-country Kikuyu, Kamba, and Nyamwezi and of Hadrami Arabs satisfied most labor needs, but tembo

interfered with the workers’ productivity. The manager of the Nyali Sisal Estates adjacent to the island complained imperiously that he had “a good class of boy worker here now, but this Tembudrinking will ruin them. If they cannot get all they want, though they usually do, at Freretown, then they go across to Mombasa on a Sunday. Between 40 and 50 boys returned last Sunday evening quite drunk.” *! The provincial commissioner’s solution was to reduce the number of licenses from seventy-four granted in the first quarter of 1912, to ten or twelve. He also raised the license fee to 75 rupees, expecting to force the price of tembo up far enough to make it prohibitive for laborers. The District Annual Report the following year proclaimed the success of this strategy, declaring that “the number of Native Liquor Licenses issued in the past was

30. KNA Coast 1/5/353, Dhani Ram, Kilindini, to the Municipal Commissioner, Mombasa, 13.1.13. The names were Bibi Kaiza Bintali, Bibi Fatuma Sood, Bibi Matuma (Fatuma?) Binti Asmani, Bibi Badresi Binti Mjuma, Saleti Binti Fransis, Franezi Bint Adam Balozi, Mariamom.

31. KNA Coast 1/5/353, Hobley to Superintendent of Police, Mombasa, 19.11.12; manager’s letter, 18.12.12.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 137 excessive, and has been greatly reduced this year. Diminution in drunkenness more than compensates for the loss of revenue.” *? This declaration of instant success seems more self-serving than accurate, in the face of repeated cries of the problem of drunkenness in Mombasa in the years following this “solution.”

Limiting the number of licenses had the effect of excluding women from the legal sale of tembo, and this secondary gain pleased

a government with prejudices against women in this occupation. One application filed in 1914 by two women from a poor section of Mombasa was turned down by the provincial commissioner, C. W. Hobley, who declared himself “generally averse to the granting of native liquor licenses to females.” The women quickly adjusted and the same day substituted the “name of their husbands... who [would] of course be responsible for the conduct of the busi-

ness.”’ This ruse worked for one of the applicants, who received one of the two new licenses given in 1915, bringing the total to twelve for that year.°* The extent to which other women utilized this strategem to obtain licenses is untraceable.™

Excluding women from legally selling tembo did not prevent them from selling it illegally. The reappearance in the 1920s of drinking and social clubs that included women may be evidence that licensing had little effect on women’s livelihood. Today women still brew and sell alcoholic beverages. However, the issue of licensing tembo sellers illustrates the effect of colonial adminis-

32. KNA Coast 1/5/353, Hobley to District Commissioner, Mombasa, 18.12.12. KNA 8/157, Takaungu Sub-District Annual Report 1912/13, p. 15. KNA 2/130, Mombasa District Quarterly Report, March 1912, p. 3. KNA 8/157, MDAR 1912/13, p. 6.

33. KNA Coast 1/5/353, A. Morrison, District Commissioner, to C. W. Hobley, Provincial Commissioner, Mombasa, 10.12.14; Hobley to Morrison, 17.12.14; Morrison to Hobley, 17.12.14; Morrison to Hobley, 4.5.15. There were twenty applicants for the two openings in 1915. Ten of the twelve licenses from 1914 were renewed. 34. See KNA MSA/6, Mombasa Political Record Book, vol. 2, p. 54; KNA

DC/MSA/8/2, p. 54; MMA 54/5 (date approximate), for lists of licenseholders: twelve men in 1913, and 250 men in 1946.

138 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK trators’ attitudes about proper activities for women.*> Hobley first articulated his view of women and tembo in 1914. By 1920 a Native Liquor Ordinance forbade women to make or sell tembo.*° Prostitution The influx of working men at the port provided another economic Opening that was often tied to brewing or selling alcoholic drinks. Between making a living as a professional prostitute and augmenting by occasional sexual activity the support payments due one as a wife lay several degrees of reliance on an exchange of sex and domestic labor for money or gifts.°”? Often women earned money by feeding

or informally providing connubial services for the immigrants.” Providing meals for a man might lapse into providing sexual satisfac35. Hobley’s articulation of the role of European women in colonizing Kenya places him squarely in the paternalist mold. He felt Kenya was not the

place for a squeamish woman, but if she were patient and supportive, she might see her husband succeed at farming. These women (unnamed) who wrote tales about their adventures in Kenya were “suspect.’’ Kenya from Char-

tered Company to Crown Colony (London: H. F. and G. Witherby, 1929), pp. 20-21. Such a view of the proper role for European women seems to have extended to the exclusion of tembo selling from the proper sphere for Muslim women. For similar analyses of the effects of the values of European adminis-

trators on women in other societies see, Judith Van Allen, ““Aba Riots’ or Igbo ‘Women’s War’? Ideology, Stratification, and the Invisibility of Women,” in Women in Africa, pp. 80-83; Boserup, chapter 3; Malira Kubuya-Naumulemba, ‘‘Les Associations Feminines de Lubumbashi, 1920-1950” (Grade de Licencie Histoire, Université Nationale du Zaire, Lubumbashi, Faculté des Lettres, 1971-1972), pp. 68-87, passim. 36. KNA Coast 1/36/543, p. 64. Tembo selling by Africans was outlawed in Nairobi in 1921, Bujra, “Entrepreneurs,” p. 222. By 1934 the Mombasa Municipal Council established a Municipal Native Beer-Shop which dealt directly with “‘reliable wholesalers,” causing “the retailers [to go] out of business,” KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1934, pp. 9-10.

37.See Kenneth Little, African Women in Towns (London: Cambridge University Press, 1973), chapters 6-9. In one custody case in Mombasa an exhusband charged that his ex-wife was unfit to have their child because she had been seen entering the houses of a Singhalese and a Parsee for purposes of

prostitution. The court agreed with the husband but assigned custody to a female relative of cither the husband or wife, according to Muslim law. HC, Asha binti Mohamed v. Hemed bin Mohamed bin Sef, Kadhi’s Court, Mombasa, Civil Case 4/1913, High Court, Mombasa, Appeal 8/1913. 38. KNA DC/MSA/3/3, p. 12, mentions eating-houses and tea shops for laborers in 1927. The proprietors are not specified as women. Fatma Hussein reports these activities for Kaloleni, a neighborhood in Mombasa.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 139 tion and vice versa. That women lived in a series of informal relationships is confirmed by comments relating to a 1935 court decision, which held that only a husband could be legally responsible for the tax due on a hut owned by his wife. The district commissioner wrote that Mombasa’s

population is mainly Mohamedan with an appreciable number of unmarried women owning huts in their own rights and living in a perpetual state of concubinage, but seldom with the same man for any length of time. As a concubine is included in the defini-

tion of the term wife it is difficult to prosecute in respect of these huts when the male population is chiefly floating.°?

Prostitutes played a key role in the system of migrant labor where families often did not accompany a man to the city. As providers of

sexual pleasure, meals, and other domestic services, they helped reproduce the labor force by performing the support work necessary

to keep waged laborers alive and working. As participants in the informal sectors of the economy, their roles often differed from that of wife only in the exchange of pay for services.*° Such exchange could take place in the privacy of one’s home or be initiated

in public by streetwalkers, but the latter attracted the attention of government officials and community leaders.**

In the early years of the century, prostitutes bought houses in wealthy neighborhoods. The proximity of these women offended the leading families who were their neighbors. In 1907 a number of these “good family people,” as they identified themselves, sought to oust Mama Dachi and her friends who had set up shop in Kibokoni. 39. KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1935. Two years previously the High Court ruled that by the wording of the Native Hut and Poll Tax, sec. 3, a female native did not have to pay tax on a hut owned by herself; a male had to pay for each of his wives’ huts. Rex. v. Mwana Ngomeni, Criminal Revision 40/1933, Law

Reports of Kenya 15, p. 132. In the 1935 incident described by the district commissioner, the mudir of Changamwe had ruled the woman responsible for payment; the High Court reversed the decision. 40. See Lourdes Arizpe, “Women in the Informal Labor Sector: The Case of Mexico City,” Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 36. 41. Luise White, who is completing a Ph.D. dissertation on prostitution in

colonial Nairobi, traced the changing conditions that foster one type or another of prostitution; lecture, October 26, 1977.

140 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK “Wanyema [Manyema] and other women”’ prostitutes nearby were troubling them, the people claimed: “‘Whenever [a] Home or South Steamer arrive[s] in our harbour some European and other passengers who go about in search of such women frequently try to enter our houses, struggle with our families, abuse them and sometimes

even strike them in our absence.” The complainants listed seven women by name and requested that the government remove them to Miembeni, a poorer section of town. The list included Mama Dachi, Fatuma Mkikuyu, and five others, some of whose names suggest a Slave background. Research by an official turned up two other prostitutes in the neighborhood.* Living singly, or in twos and threes,

the women’s households reveal their social network. Of the five houses listed, one had formerly been rented by Tatu, who then moved in with Fatuma Mkikuyu in a house owned by Fatuma’s mother. The other three houses apparently were owned by the women themselves. Had the houses been owned by “‘respectable”’ people, the petitioners no doubt would have pressured the owners in person. Unable to act in this way, the citizens’ committee turned to the government, which quickly obliged by warning the women to leave and then evicting them.” The government’s action, though prompt, did not solve the problem. In 1910 the assistant district commissioner distastefully noted the arrival of more women, “‘apparently a fresh import and different from the ones who infested Kibokoni some 3 years back.” And in

1912 the “good family people” wrote another letter requesting removal of prostitutes from Kibokoni: We are now in trouble every day on account of their actions, and

making noise & abusing each other, . .. their actions day by day increasing, & about two days back some Europeans entered on our houses suspecting [them] as prostituties [sic] quarters & surrounding houses belonging to them. . . . We are afraid that 42. KNA Coast 1/3/219, 25.12.07. “M” is a prefix indicating a person, therefore “Mkikuyu” is a Kikuyu person; the five women were Tatu, Fatuma Miundi, Zikaliko, Mauwa, Fatuma Tongo; the other two were Mariam binti Masudi and Cheusi Mnadi.

43. KNA Coast 1/3/219, Provincial Commissioner to Majid bin Ali, 31.12. 07; 7.1.08, note attached to the letter.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 141 the numbers of the prostituties [sic] may be increased day by day.

On this occasion a new provincial commissioner claimed that the government could not evict the women; but under Township Rules of 1904 they could be prosecuted and fined 40 rupees or imprisoned for up to four weeks. He promised to warn the registered township guides that they would be “struck off the register” for showing men

to the brothels. Apparently fines did little to impede business. In 1918 the Coast provincial commissioner complained about prostitutes in the “native quarters” behind the European houses in Old Town. “They are so affluent,” he wrote, “that they pay their fines with alacrity, and after a little the nuisance recommences.”””™*

Between the wars specific attention was drawn to the problem of traffic in women from poorer areas on the coast. Despite legislation prohibiting such traffic, women from Lamu and Faza were brought to Mombasa and set up as prostitutes. Because these areas had stagnated economically after the abolition of slavery, they were prime sources of coastal girls, whose parents sold them for four shillings and a pair of leso, according to one man.*° In 1929 the administra-

tion sought unsuccessfully to limit such traffic by requiring all women traveling from Lamu to Mombasa to hold passes certifying that they were married. Even the officials acknowledged that the pass system worked poorly; by choice or by coercion women married, entered Mombasa legally, and then obtained divorces.** In 1939

44. KNA Coast 1/3/219, ADC memo, 11.8.10; memo, 27.6.12; Assistant Provincial Commissioner to Kibokoni through Majid bin Ali, 3.7.12. KNA

Coast 1/52/1274, Provincial Commissioner, Coast, to Attorney General, 20.11.18.

45.KNA Jud 1/1235. Interview with Mohamed Suleiman Mazrui (Abusuleiman). See also Bujra, “Production,” p. 20. 46. Date approximate. CPA 2/758, District Commissioner, Lamu, to Provincial Commissioner, Coast, 30.12.31. Despite the failure of the pass system, the African Muslim Association requested that it be reinstated twenty years later. Letter to the kadhi, Lamu, 12.49. Provincial Commissioner to District Commissioner, Lamu, CAP L+O 32, 5.1.50. KNA Coast 1/56/1548, Acting District Commissioner, Lamu, to Senior Coast Commissioner, 20.10.23.

142 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK the traffic continued unabated, though women may have been leaving the poor areas of their own accord.*” The legalism of the colonial government’s attempts to regulate prostitution by limiting migration contrasts with the paternalism of some of Mombasa’s leading men.** In one incident between the wars

Sheik Al-Amin suggested a way to get rid of or at least to make respectable the prostitutes who were again besetting the Kibokoni citizens. He proposed to a gathering at the local mosque that the men of the community marry the prostitutes, with their consent. If some women refused they must then move. Sheik Al-Amin’s solution was humane and meritorious by Islamic custom, if unusual by European standards.*?

The ethnic composition of prostitutes in Mombasa changed after World War II. At the turn of the century, many were Manyema, presumably ex-slaves. Other women, with tribal or Muslim names, were ex-Slaves or coastal women. Some Nandi women, from regions west of Nairobi, took advantage of the railroad to reach Mombasa.>° How47.KNA Coast 2/269, 29.12.39; KNA LMU/3, Lamu District Annual Report 1939. 48. Mombasa officials were at a loss in dealing with prostitutes. Suggestions

were made in 1951 to screen brothels, to include landlords as party to the offence of prostitution, or to apply the Voluntarily Unemployed Persons Ordinance making them liable to repatriation. The latter idea, interestingly enough, was “‘fruitless as it [was] held that ‘employment’ in so far as women

were concerned [could] not be defined.’ These suggestions are found in a memo in CPA L+O 32, 19.10.51. For the Voluntarily Unemployed Ordinance, Ordinance 39 of 1949, see Colony of Kenya, Ordinances 1949, NS 28. The district commissioner argued that the problem of prostitution would be solved not by applying ordinances regulating people’s stay in Mombasa, but rather by providing housing and social security for the African population of Mombasa so that they might develop roots there. CPA L+O 32, to Provincial Com-

missioner, Coast, 31.12.51. In fact, the officials took a benign approach, establishing VD clinics, discouraging open street solicitation, but minimizing arrests. G. M. Wilson, “‘A Study of Prostitution in Mombasa,” in “MSS,” pp. 578-80; Mombasa Times, 19.9.57; personal communication from Fatma Hussein, 1973. 49. Interview with Mohamed Suleiman Mazrui (Abusuleiman). The Koran encourages men to marry “left-over” women of the community, according to Knappert, “Social,” p. 134. 50. Stigand, p. 277. Alice E. Gold is completing an “Economic History of the Nandi 1840-1914,” dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles, which will discuss prostitution.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 143 ever, after World War II up-country prostitutes outnumbered coastal women. By 1957 nearly 60 percent of Mombasa’s prostitutes came

from elsewhere than the coast, and only 16 percent were Arab, Bajuni from the islands near Lamu, or “Swahili.’’>' During the brief

period when women and children were evacuated from Mombasa Island in 1942, Ganda prostitutes moved in. “There was a large exodus of Lamu women at the time of the general evacuation,” wrote the Coast provincial commissioner, “‘and owing to the difficulties experienced by them in returning to Mombasa, their places have

been filled by Buganda [sic] prostitutes, to whom the news was speedily sent.’ Several Lamu houses were taken over by these Ganda

women. In the early 1950s Ziba women from the Buhaya area of of northwestern Tanganyika came to dominate Mombasa prostitution. In 1950 the district commissioner estimated that 1,500 Ziba women resided in Mombasa, three-quarters of them supporting themselves by prostitution, with some working at child care. Only 200 to 250 were thought to be married.™ As the ethnic composition of prostitutes changed in the 1940s the areas associated with prostitution shifted from Old Town to the new Majengo settlements. Here, rather than in Old Town, lived the recent migrants to Mombasa. Shanties and more substantial coral and plaster Swahili-type houses dotted these parts of town. In 1950 Mwembe Tayari, one of the more concentrated areas of prostitution in Majengo, 51. Seventy-four percent African (15.6 percent Coastal [not including Somali] , 10.2 percent up-country Kenyan, 35.6 percent Ugandan, 12.6 percent

Tanganyikan); 26 percent non-African (2.0 percent half-castes, 3.0 percent Seychelles, 3.0 percent Somali, 1.5 percent Asian, .5 percent European, 16.0 percent Arab and Bajuni). Luo women were conspicuously absent. Wilson, ‘Study of Prostitution,” pp. 569,579. Some Luo women were reported in the Mombasa Times, 19.9.57. By 1950, Lamu women were “only a very small part’? of Mombasa prostitution, CPA Lt+O 32, Provincial Commissioner to District Commissioner, Lamu, 5.1.50. Groups represented were Kikuyu, Kamba, Gishu, Chagga, Ganda, and women from Nyanza Province. CPA L+O 32, District Commissioner report, 19.10.51. 52.CAP L+O 32, Provincial Commissioner, Coast, to Chief Native Commissioner, Nairobi, 20.7 .42. 53.CPA Lt+tO 32, 19.10.51. Haya women are well known throughout east

Africa as prostitutes, J. A. K. Leslie, A Survey of Dar es Salaam (London: Oxford University Press, 1963), p. 232. See also Birgit Storgaard, “Women in Ujamaa Villages,” Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), pp. 145-47.

144 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK had twenty-eight brothels within 100 yards of the Lady Grigg Mid-

wife Training Center, much to the dismay of its administrators. Along with the shift from Old Town to Majengo and because of the rising value of Mombasa real estate, prostitutes became renters rather than houseowners. Unlike Mama Dachi and her friends in Old Town, who owned their houses, 94 percent of Mombasa’s prostitutes rented rooms in 1957.55 In contrast, in Nairobi one-third or more of the houses in the older African areas of town were owned by women, most of whom for many years had been prostitutes and in the 1920s had invested their savings in urban property.*° The people who rented to prostitutes were a sexually and ethnically heterogeneous collection and did not charge abnormally high rents. Of the twenty-eight Mwembe Tayari houses mentioned above, seven were owned by four women with Arab or Swahili names, ten were

owned by men with Arab or Swahili names, ten belonged to four Asian men, and one was owned by an Asian woman.*’ Without iden-

tifying houseowners by sex, the Mombasa Social Survey of 1957 indicated that for Mombasa as a whole, over one-fifth were ‘“‘Swahili,”

one-third were Asian, and over two-fifths were Arab. Some house-

owners profited enormously. One Arab woman who owned ten houses in Sheik Jundani District received a monthly rent of 3,600 shillings per house, compared with the usual rent of 600 shillings per month. She ran a particularly seamy house, with three beds in each room of her four-room houses.*8 In general, however, room rents for prostitutes were not unusually high.°?

These changes in ethnic composition and house ownership are related to a third issue, the extent to which prostitutes maintained connections with their original homes. Women who migrated to Nairobi in the second and third decades of this century cut their ties 54.CPA PH 4/1, Medical Officer of Health to Mombasa Municipal Board, 10.5 .50, no. 53. 55. Wilson, “Study of Prostitution,” p. 574. 56. Bujra, “Entrepreneurs,” pp. 216, 232-33. 57. See note 54. 58. Wilson, “Study of Prostitution,” p. 574; CPA L+O 32, Memo, 19.10.51.

59. Wilson, “Study of Prostitution,’ p. 578. In Dar es Salaam prostitutes’ rents were slightly above normal, because it is assumed that they could afford the higher rent. Leslie, p. 234.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 145 with their natal societies. It is unclear whether the women were thrown out of their rural homes or came to Nairobi because they found more autonomy in urban life. Once accomplished, the choice to live in the city had other ramifications. The women became Muslims, creating a burial association and a new social network of jamaa. Their commitment to Nairobi is evidenced in their investment in the oldest African neighborhoods there: by 1932 women owned 42 percent of the houses in Pangani, by 1943 they had 41 percent of the houses in Punwani, and by the early 1970s women comprised 60 percent of Punwani’s landlords.

Like their Nairobi counterparts, the early Mombasa prostitutes were similarly cut off from home. The Manyema women, whose presence bothered the people of Kibokoni, had been separated from home and family by the slave trade. Perhaps the Manyema dances and spirit possession cults organized by Mwana Mgoi and Mwana Mtembwe formed the nucleus of associations for Manyema men and women, including prostitutes. Mama Dachi and her friends owned the houses in which they lived and worked, as did Nairobi’s early prostitutes,

Although women who left for the city in the early part of the century were rejected by those who remained behind, today prostitution has lost some of its social stigma for many people. Prostitutes in Dar es Salaam often return home with sufficient dowry to make respectable marriages.°' The same is true of women from Tundwa village on Pate Island where in 1965, 168 women, two-thirds of

whom were prostitutes, had migrated, compared with 350 adult females resident in the village. Prostitutes, unlike male migrants, invested their earnings in their natal village. They could send their illegitimate children home and could retire there themselves, though the most successful ones remained in Mombasa. In addition to buying houses, these women provided lavish weddings and circumcision ceremonies in Tundwa. Moreover, prostitutes were more likely than other women to contract marriages with men of higher social stand60. Bujra, “Entrepreneurs,” pp. 216, 232-33. 61. For examples of stigma and the lack of it, see Little, African Women, pp. 83-84, passim; Leslie, p. 236.

146 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK ing.©? For these women prostitution provided social and economic advancement within their home community. Similarly, because of their wealth, Ziba prostitutes were welcomed into Mombasa’s Waziba [Haya] Union. The 1,500 Ziba women represented a potent force in the Union formed by men and women in

1943. By 1950 a serious rift appeared—so serious that members came to blows. According to the municipal African affairs officer, the women, many of whom were “‘very rich, [paid] their subscriptions regularly. The men [did] not pay their subscriptions regularly but at the same time like[d] to have the main say in the spending of the money.”® This conflict between economically autonomous and powerful women and the men of the same ethnic group marked a

change for Mombasa prostitutes, who previously had not joined

associations.” ,

Not all societies viewed them tolerantly.°> Official Ganda opinion was distinctly negative about Ganda women who moved to Mombasa

during World War II. A representative of the chief minister of Buganda requested that authorities outside Buganda repatriate unemployed or unmarried women. “Because they think that they have freedom,” he wrote,‘‘they use this freedom in a way which ren-

62. Bujra, “Bajuni,” pp. 50-60, 128; Bujra, ‘“‘production,” p. 17. 63.CPA L+O 32, 19.10.51. 64. At least they did not join associations that were reported in government documents. For such organizations elsewhere, see Kenneth Little, West African Urbanization: A Study of Voluntary Associations in Social Change (London: Cambridge University Press, 1965), pp. 128-33. Dar is another exception (Leslie, p. 234). However, between World War I and World War II in Lubumbashi, Zaire, several associations of single women engaged in beer brewing and prostitution, providing one another with companionship and mutual aid under exotic names such as Diamant, La Beauté, and Sami (from des amies). Similarly, during the 1950s in Abidjan, prostitutes of different ethnic backgrounds

joined in associations that fixed prices and collectively negotiated with the government. See, respectively, Kubuya-Naumulemba, pp. 57-64; Jean Rouch and E. Bernus, “‘Notes sur les Prostituées Toutou de Treichville et d’Adjamé,”’ Etudes Eburnéennes 6 (1957), 237-40. 65. Prior to World War II, many associations throughout Kenya had the aim of returning women in towns to their tribal homes to prevent prostitution. John Middleton, “Kenya: Administration and Changes,” p. 385. KNA MSA/ 14, MDAR 1957, p. 5.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 147 ders the reputation of Buganda bad.”© Similarly, the absence of Luo

prostitutes is attributed to their quick repatriation by other Luo present in a town. In general, however, prostitutes today are less often forced to sink their roots into towns such as Mombasa because of negative opinion within their home societies. Wage Labor

Except for domestic service and child care, wage labor for women in Mombasa scarcely existed before World War II. The mid-1930s experiment of employing 350 women to sort coffee beans grown up-

country did not set a precedent for further factory work for the town’s female population.®’ In the entire colony, the shift after World War II away from a system of migrant labor on European farms and in urban centers was accompanied by an increase in the number of women in wage labor. However, the initial rise from 8 percent of the paid labor force in 1948 to 12 percent in 1954 soon slowed. By 1970 women still constituted only 14 percent of the paid workers who were recorded in labor statistics.®°

Coastal women, unlike those in most of Kenya, tended to perform nonagricultural labor. In 1947 at least 80 percent (8,866 women) of employed African women outside the coast worked in agriculture. In Coast Province, however, only 45 percent were found in agriculture, and they numbered a mere 137 women.” As indicated in chap-

ter 4, teaching, nursing, and secretarial work attracted Muslim women, particularly from the 1960s on.” 66.CA L+O 32, S. S. Wamala, Katikiro, to the Honourable Resident, Buganda, 4.7.42. 67. Stichter, p. 56; KNA MDAR 1933, p. 12; MDAR 1934, p. 20. The Old East Africa Trading Company “‘found men useless on sorting the coffee beans and would not be willing to discharge the [female] labourers,” MDAR 1938,

P 68. Stichter, p. 57; ILO, Employment, Incomes and Equality, table 47, p.

m9. Stichter, table 4, p. 59. 70. Norma Chinchilla discusses the presence of women clerical workers in Guatemala, pointing to the reasons for their being drawn to work and the competition they face from male high school graduates. “Industrialization, Monopoly Capitalism, and Women’s Work in Guatemala,” Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 53.

148 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK Mombasa’s female wage laborers share the plight of other Kenyan

women in the paid work force. Nationally, female employment is concentrated in certain fields—secretarial work, tea-picking, sales work in small shops and bars, and textile manufacturing.” Moreover,

following a worldwide pattern, women’s wages consistently have been lower than men’s. In the 1950s wages in industry and domestic

service were less for women than for men, and in agriculture a woman earned half a man’s wage.” In 1972 women’s wages constituted two-thirds to three-quarters of men’s.” By 1974 the minimum wage for women was 90 percent of that for men. However, women are not given a housing allowance even if they are the head of household. Hence, if housing allowances are added to the minimum wage, women received only 78 percent of men’s wages and benefits.* Not only are Kenyan women disadvantaged when employed, they are more likely than men to be without work. In 1972 urban estimates identified 10 percent unemployment among male

heads of household and 10 to 15 percent among other males, in comparison with 10 to 17 percent unemployment among female heads of household and 23 to 27 percent among other females. As the report states, “the worst of all possible circumstances from the

point of view of seeking work is to be young, uneducated and

female.”

In assessing the impact of colonial rule on women’s economic activities, it is best to distinguish direct colonial policy from economic expansion resulting from the colonial presence. The women whose livelihood was linked indirectly to Mombasa’s growth were primarily prostitutes and those who provided domestic services for laborers. Direct policy specifically affected economic activity in four ways. The abolition of slavery had important long-term effects, offering slave women more choice of employment. Abolition pro71. Kenya, Ministry of Labour, Annual Report 1974 (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1976), p. 2. 72. Stichter, p. 60. 73.1LO, Employment, Incomes and Equality, p. 547. 74. Kenya, Ministry of Economic Planning and Development, Statistical

Division, Statistical Abstracts 1975 (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1975), table 240a, p. 266. 75. ILO, Employment, Incomes and Equality, p.59.

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 149 vided the basis for changes in economic activities and social relations,

even if the changes in work patterns were not always abrupt. The exclusion of women from selling tembo forced women either to stop, to rely upon a male front for a license, or to continue illegally one of their more lucrative activities. The British policy of discouraging the introduction of industry gave women few alternatives to domestic

service, handicrafts, and prostitution in the informal sector as a source of income. Ironically, the area where one would expect the most direct policy interference, prostitution, saw much debate but little action. The government accepted the presence of prostitutes in port towns like Mombasa and sought to regulate venereal disease rather than to arrest prostitutes.” Women’s economic options were affected not only by colonialism but also by the ideological connection between dependence, high social status, and heshima (dignity and honor) on one hand, and poverty and autonomy on the other. A wealthy woman’s inheritance

could have brought her independence and autonomy, but social pressure kept her within the very restricted role of wife. Because of purdah these women could not deal face to face with men of equivalent social standing, and thus they needed a husband as an agent to the outside world. Women at the opposite end of the socioeconomic scale were less restricted by purdah. The farther women were from the upper tier of society, the more distant was the voice of Mwana Kupona and the

Koran prescribing wifely obedience and seclusion. The relative weakness of Muslim ideology upon poor women was reinforced by their need to provide for themselves in the absence of a dependable source of support. With a variety of ways of making a living, however meager, these women might have been less tied to marriage, either to the institution or to a particular husband.”” Though subject 76. Personal communication, Fatma Hussein, 1973. A Mombasa Times article, 19.9.57, reported arrests, apparently for soliciting, but described a system of VD treatment for prostitutes. 77.In Hausa society, people accord high status to married women, but admire the economic success and independence of the physically mobile prosti-

tues. M. G. Smith, “The Hausa System of Social Status,” Africa 29, no. 3 (1959), 246.

150 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK to the uncertainties of poverty, these women were less dependent on husbands or casual lovers for maintenance and were more selfreliant economically.”

In a sense, the women in the most difficult position were the “poor but respectable” ones. One such woman was raised by slaveowning female relatives and was carefully secluded after age seven to protect her heshima. When her third husband died, she had no means of support. Her uncle had “eaten up” her inheritance. She turned to plaiting and selling mats to support herself while she lived with a female neighbor. Of free birth and respectable, she was limited in her choice of occupation and had no farms or houses to rent or sell. In

effect, she had neither the autonomy of the poor woman nor the security of the wealthy. Beyond Patriarchy

The transformation of women’s work in Mombasa over the past eighty-five years finds parallels in other colonized areas of Africa. Colonial economic policies undercut patriarchal forms of sexual asymmetry, but did not eliminate asymmetry itself. In fact, the new economy often exacerbated the differences between the roles of women and men, recruiting some men into the newer, expanding sector while leaving the vast majority of women in the traditional sector.” Noting women’s ‘“‘loss of status under European rule,”

various studies conclude that the processes of social and economic change associated with colonialism and neocolonialism have few positive, and often strongly negative, effects on women.®° 78. Ann Stoler indicates how poor Javanese women with outside earnings may have “‘an important position within the household economy” without having sufficient economic power to operate successfully outside that economic unit. ‘‘Class Structure and Female Autonomy in Rural Java,” Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 84. 79. Stoler explains a contrary case for Java, where the colonial use of family labor on plantations did not lead to such sexual dichotomization, ibid., p. 77. 80. For the general argument, see Boserup, chapter 3; June Nash, “Certain

Aspects of the Integration of Women in the Development Process: A Point of |

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 151 Women traders provide a clear example. In Ghana, improvements such as motorized transport have turned women into local sedentary traders, eroding their previous position as far-ranging mobile traders,

and thereby decreasing their profits. The introduction of cold storage at inland towns by the State Fishing Corporation has made obsolete the networks of female traders and their ancient practice of smoking fish for transport. Imported goods have replaced female home industries such as soap manufacture. Thus, industrialization and technological advance, which might have removed drudgery from women’s work, have instead decreased their productivity, and women’s former tasks have been replaced by neither more profitable nor less tiring work. Moreover, when husbands and wives cooperated as fishers and fishsellers, women were aware of and often controlled the family’s assets. Now, the wife of a civil servant cannot expect to

know her husband’s full salary. Nor is the payment of traditionally sanctioned support any longer assured. All in all, women’s economic activities are now more marginal than at the turn of the century, and women are poorer. Another study of west Africa and Haiti notes that

while the economic growth induced by westernization has doubtless increased opportunities for (at least some) female traders, it may also and simultaneously limit the range of their activities, as economic changes outside the internal market system continue to multiply. [Evidence of this is] the preponderView,” conference paper E/CONF.66/BP/5, 9 June 1975, prepared for the World Conference of the International Women’s Year (New York: United Nations, 1975); Judith Van Allen, ‘“‘African Women, ‘Modernization, and National Liberation,’ in Women in the World, ed. Lynne B. Iglitzin and Ruth Ross, Studies in Comparative Politics, no. 6 (Santa Barbara and Oxford: Clio Books, 1976), pp. 25-54. 81.Claire Robertson, ‘““Ga Women and Socioeconomic Change in Accra, Ghana,” in Women in Africa, pp. 111-33, ““Ga Women and Change in Marketing Conditions in the Accra Area,” Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), pp. 157-71, and “Change in the Organization of the Fish Trade in TwentiethCentury Accra,” African Urban Notes 2, no. 2 (Spring 1976), 43-58.

152 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK ance of men in the export business and their growing importance as full-time traders and innovators.®”

As agriculturalists, women played an essential role in the colonial economy but remained for the most part in the subsistence sector. In Kenya, women’s farm production subsidized the artificially low wages of male migrant laborers on European farms and in towns. In part this explains why females were not drawn into wage labor in greater numbers until after World War II when migrant labor began to decline. Nonetheless, despite women’s active role in agriculture, cash crops such as cotton and coffee were grown by men; maize, a food crop, was grown for cash by women.® The association of innovative cash cropping with men has been attributed to European bias in introducing new crops and agricultural techniques to men rather than to women.™ However, in contemporary Kenya government

agricultural services are still directed toward men more than women.®

Parallel to trends in agriculture, wage labor has been pursued by men earlier and more extensively than by women. Surveying the scattered data on Africa, a United Nations agency concludes that “percentages of women in the industrial labor forces increase almost exclusively when the total economy, or some sectors of it, is growing rapidly, or when jobs are implicitly or explicitly identified by employers, policy-makers, and planners as women’s fields.’’®

82. Sidney Mintz, “Men, Women, and Trade,’ Comparative Studies in Society and History 13, no. 3 (July 1971), 265. 83. Stichter, p. 49. 84. Boserup, chapter 3. 85. Kathleen A. Staudt, ““Women Farmers and Inequities in Agricultural

Services, ” Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), pp. 81-94; Stichter, p. 51; ILO, p. 153. Audrey Wipper documents colonial government assistance to female agriculturalists through Maendeleo ya Wanawake, a national women’s organization that was connected to the Department of Community Develop-

ment. However, she notes that much of this impetus came about due to the prodding of white settler women. ““The Maendeleo ya Wanawake Movement in

the Colonial Period: The Canadian Connection, Mau Mau, Embroidery and Agriculture,’ Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), pp. 207. 86. Human Resources Development Division, African Training and Research

Center for Women, United Nations Economic Commission for Africa,

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 153 Not only do women tend to remain outside the wage labor market, but as wives of wage laborers their lives are more precarious than

before. A study of the workers of a tobacco factory in northern Nigeria and their wives finds that men’s economic options have widened by their being able both to work for wages and to use the

capital derived from wages to enter the indigenous trade sector. Women, lacking access to capital, are undercut in trade at the same time that manufactured goods replace their traditional craft production. Furthermore, the changes in family structure that accompany urban wage labor remove former support systems for women that were based on extended family ties and friendship networks. The

frequency of divorce exacerbates the insecurity associated with dependence on a husband’s income for support and maintenance.®’ Even more privileged women, who do not encounter basic survival

difficulties, experience the problem of the “‘double day.” In an economy that does not provide such social services as child care, working women must hire domestic servants at a wage below their own, obtain kin support for child care, or have a cooperative husband. A study of female lawyers in Ghana indicates that the first two options are narrowing and the third is not assured.®°

In rural areas too, the double day is one of several difficulties experienced by women. In an early ujamaa (communal) village in Tanzania, male settlers and planners were unwilling to acknowledge housework and child care as equal in value and importance to the agricultural work of men. As a result men and women were expected to work an eight-hour day in the fields, after which women had the additional tasks of cooking, cleaning house, caring for children, fetching water, and gathering firewood. Moreover, women who moved to the ujamaa village lost their rights to land and political “Women and National Development in African Countries: Some Profound Contradictions,” African Studies Review 18, no. 3 (December 1975), 47.

87. Dorothy Remy, “Underdevelopment and the Experience of Women: A Nigerian Case Study,” in Toward an Anthropology of Women, ed. Rayna Reiter (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1975), pp. 358-71. 88. Christine Oppong, Christine Okali, and Beverly Houghton, “Woman Power: Retrograde Steps in Ghana,” African Studies Review 18, no. 3 (December 1975), 80.

154 THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK power in their natal areas without receiving comparable rights in the new village.®?

In summary, a broad pattern emerges of the overall detrimental effects of colonial and postcolonial economic change in countries whose economies have failed to break with neocolonial dependence or to address directly the inequities faced by women.” Much of this pattern of marginalization is visible in Mombasa as well. In some aspects, for example, the presence of domestic slave labor and the relatively small role of women as traders, the situation of women in Mombasa was unlike that of other African women. Generally speaking, however, women’s economic roles became increasingly marginal Or were undermined as wage labor came to dominate Mombasa’s

economy. Only housework, or the task of reproducing and maintaining the labor force, remained as a key economic contribution. Scholars are only beginning to develop a theory to explain satisfactorily this pattern of continued female subordination. Although European sexism permeated colonial policy, it cannot alone bear the explanatory burden for the differential incorporation of men and women into the formal sector of the economy. Nor does the ahistorical observation of the universal asymmetry between men and

women, which gives rise to important studies of the symbolic or cultural undervaluation of women, tell us enough about the develop-

ment of this asymmetry or its relationship to different modes of production. To accomplish this task some case studies of Latin American societies analyze the particular way in which women’s labor force participation is affected by a country’s process of depen-

89. James L. Brain, ‘‘Less Than Second-Class: Women in Rural Settlement Schemes in Tanzania,” in Women in Africa, pp. 271-79; for additional material on ujamaa villages see Storgaard. For the problem of household work in Chinese communes, see Norma Diamond, “‘Collectivization, Kinship, and the

Stat oe s omen in Rural China,’ in Toward an Anthropology of Women, "90. For evidence of a contrary development in Guinea-Bissau, see Stephanie

Urdang, “Fighting Two Colonialisms: The Women’s Struggle in GuineaBissau,” African Studies Review 18, no. 3 (December 1975), 29-34, and Fighting Two Colonialisms: Women in Guinea-Bissau (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1979).

THE MARGINALIZATION OF WOMEN’S WORK 155 dent capitalist development.”’ Theoretical works discuss not only labor force participation but also the role of the family and women’s domestic labor as a part of capitalist development.” The pattern will

be fully understood only through the refinement of theory and through further studies of the colonial economic system that take account of preexisting economic and cultural relations between men and women in a given society.”°

91.See Chinchilla; Glaura Vasques de Miranda, “‘Women’s Labor Force Participation in a Developing Society: The Case of Brazil,’ Signs 3, no. 1 (Autumn 1977), 261-74; Margaret Towner, “Monopoly Capitalism and Women’s Work During the Porfiriato,” Latin American Perspectives 4, nos. 1 and 2 (Winter and Spring 1977), 90-105; Marianne Schmink, “Dependent Development and the Division of Labor by Sex: Venezuela,” ibid., pp. 15379; Nancy Caro Hollander, ‘““Women Workers and the Class Struggle: The Case

of Argentina,” ibid., pp. 180-93. 92.See Heleieth I. B. Saffioti, ““Women, Mode of Production, and Social Formations,” Latin American Perspectives 4, nos. 1 and 2 (Winter and Spring 1977), 27-37, and Women in Class Society (New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 1978); Eisenstein, Capitalist Patriarchy. 93. Theoretical contributions that in large degree focus on African societies include Maxine Molyneux, “‘Androcentrism in Marxist Anthropology,” C7itique of Anthropology 3, nos. 9 and 10 (1977), 55-81; Felicity Edholm, Olivia Harris, and Kate Young, “‘Conceptualizing Women,” ibid., 101-30.

6 Women’s Collectivities: Lelemama The existence of a female subculture in Mombasa is not surprising, given the social segregation of the sexes prescribed by Islam and the

marked sexual division of labor. Out of their shared experiences during the colonial period, women transformed old associations and established new ones. The activities of these groups, which engaged a wide cross-section of Mombasa’s female population, make clear the perceptions, needs, and behavior of people who are otherwise hidden from history. Moreover, the changing focus of these associations illuminates important aspects of the colonial experience. Lelemama associations reveal the transformation of a communal dance festivity into an expression of social upheaval. The improvement associations that grew out of lelemama mark the emergence of organizations that more closely replicate European models. While relating to the needs of the Muslim community, the improvement associations drew disproportionately from elites with more extensive secular education. Finally, makungwi’s associations reflect developments within Mombasa’s female slave subculture after the abolition of slavery. Although each of these organizations united women across class and ethnic lines, the strength of class and ethnic divisions militated against the development of a feminist consciousness among Mombasa’s women. The Earliest Lelemama Associations: 1890s to 1930

Lelemama was brought from Zanzibar to Mombasa at least eighty years ago. Women in their mid-eighties recall watching it as children and claim that their mother’s generation danced it.’ Although the 1. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, Fatma Saidi, Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. Ma Sheha wa Sulimani, who 156

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 157 associations changed during the colonial period, certain features characterized lelemama throughout these years. Married women danced lelemama at weddings or other special occasions. At times cattle or goats were slaughtered at a member’s farm for a picnic that culminated in a lelemama dance. Dancers from one association lined up in two groups on two benches with members of each group wearing similar attire. The women danced sedately while singing songs

that revealed the misdeeds of people in the community, publicly shamed individuals, or challenged rival lelemama associations by ridiculing their dancing abilities. Associations usually formed com-

peting pairs, following a pattern common to east African coastal societies.? Success was measured not only in dancing ability and originality of songs, but also according to the size of the audience and the lavishness of picnics and officers’ installations.

Although lelemama was and still is danced only by women, its history is intertwined with that of male beni (brass band) associations.

was about eighty, claimed that her mother’s generation danced lelemama, as does Zubeda Salim, a woman of the same age. Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano said that the lelemama of Zanzibar was preceded by a Mombasa style lelemama. Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy and Fatma Saidi, who were then in their fifties, said that before the Zanzibar lelemama arrived, women danced msondo. But they all agreed that Kingi and Kilungu were the first lelemama associations. Written sources reveal little about the origins of lelemama. Sacleux identifies lelemama as a dance initiated by blowing through a buffalo horn and singing the word “lelemama.” W. H. Ingrams’ description of the dance in Zanzibar affords no additional clues. The dance is said to consist of “‘swaying movements—no motion. Played at weddings for amusement only” (p. 403). Lelemama is among dances described in the Comoro Islands. Docteur Fontoynont and Raomandahy, 23:57. The Tanganyika government newspaper Kiongozi mentioned lelemama in its October 1911 and October 1912 issues, linking the dance to Matumbi, Ndengereko, Manyema, and Swahili women. I am grateful to E. A. Alpers and John Iliffe for these two references. A copy of a lelemama recording made in 1958 by Muhammed S. Farsy is available in the Indiana University Archives of Traditional Music, Folklore Institute, accession number 59-016 F. 2.See Ranger, Dance, passim., for examples of this in men’s bands. Skene describes a faction dance, or a chama (association) dance, in “Dances and Ceremonies,” p. 415. See also Velten, pp. 122-43; Lyndon Harries, “Swahili Dance Associations,” unpublished MS, 1968; Lienhardt, Introduction, p. 17.

158 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA According to the bandmasters of Kingi, Kilungu, and Scotchi bands, beni began in Mombasa in 1899.° Before long, lelemama associa-

tions, which appear to predate beni, joined forces with the men’s bands. Cooperation did not violate the bounds of purdah, as is clear from Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano’s account of a joint lelemamabeni outing around 1910: The women of Kingi and Kilungu competed by dancing at a farm outside of town. The men competed at guaride [a kind of beni].

But the men did not enter the women’s area. They had their side, and the women had theirs. We went to Saregoi [on Mombasa Island]. The town had not yet extended out that far, and

there were only two or three houses. There, beneath some mango trees, people set the drums, danced, cooked food, ate, and spent the day. When it was time to leave in the evening, the women walked in front, the drums in between, and the men in the rear. We did so because for us it is very shameful to be seen by all the men.*

On other occasions the women dropped out of the processions, particularly when the bands marched through town to show off their finery. One British administrator recalled this scene in Mombasa the Same year:

I saw a detachment of the Scotchi, about 50 strong, all dressed in well-fitting uniforms with kilt, and carrying wooden dummy rifles, march down the Main Street of the native quarter with a bugle band at their head. Hundreds of townspeople turned out to watch the fun and the performance became a regular weekly diversion, with such variations as the reception of the Governor, or Sultan, represented by an immaculately uniformed person who on occasion arrived at the ngoma parade in a carriage and pair, with suite and outriders on bicycles.° 3. MMA 5/22, Khamis bin Mustafa, King Band; Sheik Nasor bin Mohamed, Kilungu; and Ali Bin Mzee, Scotch; to Chairman, Municipal Board, 5.11.32. 4, Interview. 5. National Archives of Tanzania, sec. 075-186, P.O., Tanga, to Secretary, Administration, 10 September 1919, describing an event nine years earlier. I owe this reference to T. O. Ranger.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 159 Another account of a procession fourteen years later noted the absence of women.® Apparently, as beni became transformed after World War I from a communal festivity into a multiethnic display, Muslim women retired from the beni limelight.’ Despite the cooperation between men and women in beni and lelemama, the activities were separate. Beni associations had a more ethnically varied membership than did lelemama.® Under certain circumstances, though not in Mombasa, beni also attained a political significance not found in lelemama.? Lelemama and beni associations were not all equally prestigious. In

Mombasa, the Old Town (Mjini) associations ranked above those from the newer and poorer Majengo settlements, and within Old Town Kingi overshadowed Kilungu and Scotchi. Various criteria determined prestige. An association had to be able to afford costumes and feasts. Funds usually came from rich patrons, whose status as individuals contributed to the association’s status. A large membership, whether rich or poor, signified popularity and enhanced status. The ethnic composition of an association affected its status according to theranking of ethnic and communal groups in Mombasa. 6.Hermann Norden, White and Black in East Africa (London: H. F. and G. Witherby, 1924), pp. 47-48. 7. Mombasa beni had almost no up-country members until after World War I. Ranger, Dance, p. 32. In Tanga at the time of World War I, coastal women

did not participate in beni except to sing from the sidelines. Up-country women did join in, which suggests that purdah accounted for the former’s exclusion. National Archives of Tanzania, sec. 075-186, Report of the Political Officer, Tanga, to Secretariat, Administration, Dar es Salaam, 10.9.19. I thank T. O. Ranger for this reference. In Pangani, a village near Tanga, in the 1950s,

many of the female members of beni societies were widowed or divorced women. Ranger, Dance, p. 98. Perhaps these women participated disproportionately because purdah applied less strongly to them. Up-country societies included both men and women, which allegedly resulted in “loose moral practices.’ See an anonymously written article, “The Beni Society of Tangan-

yika Territory,’ Primitive Man 11, nos. 3 and 4 (July and October 1938), 74, 75, 80, 81. 8. Norden, p. 48, observing a procession in 1924, describes a heterogeneous membership, including “‘representatives of the various tribes—the Swahili, the Kikuyu, the Kamba, the Nandi, the Lamu from the coast, the Nilotic Kavirondo and the Bantu Kavirondo, . . . the Baganda from Uganda, the Giriama, and even a few Turkana from the north.” 9. KNA Coast 54/1437, Senior Coast Commissioner to Acting Chief Native Commissioner, 5.7.21; Ranger, Dance, passim.

160 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA However, as is clear from chapter 1, recruitment into these associations was not restricted to freeborn people. Rather, in the early Old Town associations, slaves, freed slaves, and their mistresses who were all jamaa participated in the same lelemama association. Although a large number of upper-class members added to an association’s prestige, having many slave members did not necessarily detract from its glory. Nor were freeborn members ashamed to mix with slaves in lelemama, although the slaves admitted to Old Town lelemama associations most likely were part of the social network of upper-class families.‘ The familiarity and sharing of activity was based upon

clear understanding of status difference, upon paternalism rather than egalitarianism. And some activities differentiated between women of slave and free ancestry. Each of the beni and lelemama associations of Old Town drew its

membership primarily from a particular neighborhood, which usually represented a particular ethnic or communal group. In the case of Kingi, the most prestigious lelemama-beni association, the homogeneity is striking. The leaders of Kingi came from a single Shikely Arab (Omani) lineage; members tended to come from the Nine Tribes of Mjua Kale neighborhood. Fatma binti Salimu bin Rashid Shikely began the Kingi lelemama section. Her relative by marriage, Bakari Mohamed bin Juma Mutwafy (Nine Tribes) was the

first bandmaster. His half brother, Khamis Mustafa (a Baluchi), originally field marshall, took over as bandmaster before Bakari’s death and remained the leader until his own death in the mid-1960s,

by which time the Kingi band had faded away."’ By reputation Kingi was the most exclusive and wealthy of the Mombasa beni and

lelemama associations, including more wealthy members of freeborn families and their slave followers than any other dance association.

In contrast, Kilungu contained more diverse peoples and was begun by less prestigious leaders. The founder of Kilungu lelemama was Sheha Ma Mishi, an mzalia or huru, a slave follower of the Three

10. Interview with Fatma Saidi. | 11. Interviews with Fatma Saidi and Zubeda Salim.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 161 Tribes from Kuze neighborhood in Old Town.'* When a Hadrami Arab, Sheik Nasor bin Mohamed, left Kingi to form Kilungu Band, | the people of Kuze neighborhood followed him, including Badala, seafaring Indians long resident in Mombasa.’* One freeborn woman, Mwana wa Mwinyi of the Three Tribes, is credited with encouraging many freeborn Kuze residents to join Kilungu.’* Neither Sheik Nasor nor Sheha Ma Mishi spent sufficient money during their installations to receive as high a rank as the leaders of Kingi, which further suggests the lower status and wealth of Kilungu.’* The

difference between Kingi and Kilungu is also reflected in their names. “Kilungu’’ is the name of a warrior of the Kamba, an upcountry people who traded in Mombasa.'® Given their perceptions of status, Omani Arabs would have been unlikely to take pride in and associate themselves with an African figure. Instead, they chose , the name Kingi, or King Band.

The third important band, known as Scotchi because of its Scottish regiment outfits, was founded by the Basheikh family of Hadrami Arabs, though the members came from various groups.’ Like Kilungu, Scotchi’s Queen Zabibu was an “Mswahili” presumably of slave ancestry, and King Rastamu was a Hadrami Arab. The Scotchi

core lived in Baghani, the Basheikh Arab neighborhood of Old Town, but Scotchi appears to have had a broader membership than

either Kingi or Kilungu. Indeed, by 1932 a Tanzanian African became the leader of Scotchi.’® Over the years many beni regiments, entitled Darweshi, Scouti, and Simba (Lion), affiliated with Scotchi, as well as lelemama associations named Seifu, Land

12. Interview with Fatma Saidi. 13. Interviews with Zubeda Salim, Bi Zuwena.

14. Interview with Fatma Saidi. Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, who is Three , Tribes, also joined Kilungu; interview. 15. Interview with Fatma Saidi.

16.Ma Sheha wa Sulimani says Kilungu derives from Kamba machezo (games). Robert Cummings, who has studied the Kamba, identified Kilungu as a Kamba warrior. 17. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy and Fatma Saidi. 18. See note 3; interview with Fatma Saidi.

162 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA Rova (Land Rover), Kenya Koloni (Kenya Colony), and Darsudi.’® | The newer, poorer, and less prestigious Majengo areas of Mombasa

provided members for Scotchi affiliates. One of these, Seifu, was begun before World WarI by a Nyasa woman, Ma Sheha wa Sulimani.

When the members of the association harassed her, she withdrew and established Land Rova. Her slave ancestry was no impediment to her leadership in lelemama. The money needed to develop an association came from her husband’s salary as a municipal worker.” Ma Sheha led both the male and female section of Seifu; Land Rova contained a beni section started by Said Majid.*' Land Rova’s spe-

cial rival was Kenya Koloni, which was founded after 1920 by a Duruma woman attached to the Changamwe of the Three Tribes.*” Although both Majengo and Old Town associations had non-Omani

leaders, the Majengo associations lacked the support of wealthy Arab and Twelve Tribes patrons and hence suffered in prestige. Thus, the divisions between beni-lelemama associations in Mom-

basa reflected the social cleavages of the community. Old Town groups such as Kingi, Kilungu, and Scotchi distinguished themselves from groups originating in the newer Majengo parts of town. The label Old Town or Majengo referred primarily to the core and leadership of the dance association. Hence, people perceived Scotchi as the Baghani association, despite its affiliates from Majengo. With-

in Old Town, Kingi, Kilungu, and Scotchi further represented ethnic and status divisions.

Competing dance associations in other coastal societies also reflected social cleavages and status differences. On the Swahili coast near Kilwa in southern Tanzania “‘communities constantly divide into the same halves, or moieties, following the division between village quarters or, basically, the distinction between longer established and less established families.”**? Similarly, two beni associa-

19, Interviews with Fatma Saidi and Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. 20. Interview with Ma Sheha wa Sulimani.

° 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid. The Duruma, one of the Mijikenda peoples, have traditional ties with the Changamwe. 23. Lienhardt, Introduction, p. 19.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 163 tions competed in Dar es Salaam. Marini Band symbolized sea power, hence aliens who were usually wealthier. Their rival, Arinoti Band, represented the infantry, the land forces, and in fact included porters and other poorer people. In Lamu, a regiment within Lamu Kingi was disdainfully called Kambaa, a piece of rotten rope. Kambaa, composed primarily of lower-class people, sailors and Bajuni residents, took up the pejorative name in defiance against the Lamu elite.2* However, even though beni and lelemama expressed social cleavages, they also united people of differing social status in a common activity. These opposing functions of integration and differentiation led lelemama in conflicting directions. Lelemama associations have had additional functions, including

entertainment, mutual aid, and the provision of prestigious roles for individual women. Both in the past and presently, lelemama associations had two sets of titles, which could be held simultaneously and for life. One type, reflecting Arab social concepts and practices, were usheha, from the term “sheik.” At the top was the sheha, followed by her waziri (ministers). Other ranks included wazee (elders), each performing special tasks. The mzee wa jiko (elder of the kitchen) supervised cooking, the mzee wa ngoma drummed, and another mzee invited guests to the gathering. To reach the rank of mzee one had to give a feast (Kupima mchele, to measure rice) for important members of other lelemama associations as well as for townspeople such as carpenters, fishermen, mid-

wives, masons, and ironworkers. The highest status went to the mtenzi, the woman who provided a cow to be slaughtered at a feast.*° The models for these ranked offices were drawn from precolonial life; they incorporated Arabic and Swahili words and functions in contrast to the second set of titles. Having acquired one of these Swahili titles, one could also hold a title associated with jibli, a word derived from Queen Victoria’s

24. Ranger, Dance, pp. 55, 79-82.

25. Ibinaal Watan had fifty wazee but only four watenzi. The sheha did not need to slaughter a cow, and thus she could be below the mtenzi. Interview with Fatma Saidi.

164 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA Jubilee.2° Jibli offices clearly reflected British colonial influence. The queen was surrounded by her court of maduki (dukes) and maledi (ladies). Ibinaal Watan included a kanala (colonel) in charge of land forces and an admirali (admiral) in charge of sea forces. In

practical terms their ranks allowed them to order other women around. A daktari (doctor) dressed in white pretended to give people shots. In other associations the daktari supervised food arrangements; a kashia (cashier) collected dues; a kijumbe invited guests; and a kamanda (commander) directed the dancers.?’ The details of these titles were closely watched. For example, it is reported that Kilungu’s founder was a sheha, not a queen, and that another woman provided a feast sufficient only for her to wear a half-crown, not a full crown.”® One had to spend lavishly to receive

either type of title. Between the wars one very wealthy woman from one group reputedly spent 10,000 shillings for this heshima.” On receiving a title, a woman would expect the drumming to stop

when she entered the dance area, a chair to be brought, and her orders to be followed by subordinates. These titles raise the question of the relationship of lelemama to

colonialism. Unlike beni, lelemama did not satirize the colonial powers.” Instead, its barbs were aimed at the local community. Clearly, however, lelemama titles offered their bearers an association with power, first the power of Arab rulers and later the British colonizers. Because most powerful people were men, the majority of the titles represented male offices—admirals, dukes, colonels, commanders, wazee, and doctors, for there were no female doctors 26. Fatma Saidi associated jibli with the coronation of a queen; interview. Queen Victoria’s Jubilee in 1897 is almost certainly the origin of the term, since the coast was sufficiently under British administration by that year to have celebrated. Moreover, two men, the sultan of Zanzibar and the father of the acting liwali, had actually attended Victoria’s Jubilee. They no doubt spread the word on their return to east Africa. KNA LMU/12, Tanaland Province Annual Report 1915/16, Provincial Commissioner to Chief Secretary, Nairobi, 5.7.16. 27. Interviews with Ma Sheha wa Sulimani, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, Zubeda Salim, Fatma Dabi (conducted by Fatma Hussein). 28. Interview with Fatma Saidi. 29. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 30. Ranger, Dance, p. 54, passim.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 165 in Mombasa at this time. Lelemama associations linked women to

the symbols of public power. This argument is strengthened by reference to the different developments in beni and lelemama. T. O. Ranger has argued that beni and colonialism are related, since the

beginning and end of beni coincides with the colonial period.” Around the time that Kenyan men replaced European men in government, beni died. Lelemama’s continuation suggests that women’s need to experience in play the public power they lack in reality did not end with political independence. Sexual asymmetry persists, despite the end of colonial rule. The desire for status, prestige, and power were not the only reasons for joining a lelemama association. Members themselves cite entertainment and mutual aid as reasons for participating. Wed-

dings and festive occasions demanded lelemama: Kibunzi and Mwaka at the Swahili New Year; Mfungo, the feast before fasting the month of Ramadhan; Idd al Fitr at the end of Ramadhan; and

Idd al Haj at the end of the month for pilgrimage to Mecca. Besides these communal celebrations, a lelemama could be organized whenever the members gathered enough money for a feast, either for each other or as a competitive challenge to their rivals. These

dances helped to break up the daily routine and accent important days. The dances must have been exciting occasions for poor women, who worked long hours each day, and for those in purdah

who traditionally left their houses only to visit friends and to attend weddings, funerals, and these gatherings.

Women also stress the importance of helping each other through

the associations. For example, at a wedding or funeral, both of which were enormously expensive affairs of several days’ duration,

women contributed money and helped prepare food. Reciprocity

31. Ibid., p. 9. Ranger correctly rejects the notion that beni was an “‘adjustment to absolute power,” indicating that beni was “more autonomous, more joyous, than Bettelheim’s style of explanation would allow” (pp. 9, 15). Still, an association with power operated in lelemama and beni. One woman explained that Kilungu beni changed its name to Sadla (Settler) at some point, “because the white settlers were rich and powerful people’; interview with Mwana Halima.

166 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA was demanded. By custom, if a woman was given ten shillings for

her daughter’s wedding, she must return twenty shillings at the donor’s next celebration. This doubling rule also applied to ngoma

competitions.*? In this way a woman could build up credit for those times when she needed money.

Finally, all-night lelemama festivities served one function that may in part explain the criticism that the dance later encountered from leading men of the community. These occasions provided a ruse for a wife, on the excuse of attending a wedding with her female friends, to meet her lover or engage in prostitution. Or, through lelemama events a woman could be recruited into lesbian networks without her husband’s knowledge or consent.**

This reconstruction pictures lelemama in the first thirty years of the twentieth century. The next generation of lelemama associations

retained these characteristics. Association membership continued to mark ethnic categories; women spent their own and their husbands’ money to obtain titles to enhance their self-esteem and public respect; and the younger associations also provided entertainment

and mutual aid for members. However, maturing at a different point in time than their mothers, the women of the second lelemama generation were not perfect replicas of the first. The Daughters: Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada, c. 1930 to 1950

In the early 1930s the daughters of Kingi, Kilungu, and Scotchi created their own competing pair, Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada.™

According to an Ibinaal Watan member, Kingi and Kilungu fell apart because most of the people flocked to the children’s groups. The newer associations, filled with the young married women of the community, had more life and energy.*> Kingi and Kilungu loo4 ,p. see7.Velten, p. 125; KNA KWL XXVIII, Digo District Annual Report 33. Concerning lesbianism among Mombasa women, Gill Shepherd has written “Lesbians in Mombasa. ‘A Healthy Response to Female Socialization’?”’ unpublished MS, 1977. 34. Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano. 35. Interview with Fatma Saidi. Both she and Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano explained the new associations in generational terms.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 167 continued, but their glory faded. The founding of Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada reflects the dissension that plagued lelemama associations, Fatma Mwaita, a Mazrui freed slave and the daughter of the

sheha of Kilungu, left Kilungu to join the rival Kingi and then decided to begin her own lelemama association. In taking the name Ibinaal Watan, Arabic for “daughters of the city,” she imitated a men’s regiment within Kingi called Ibn Watan, or “‘sons of the city.”°° Shortly thereafter she quarreled with members of Ibinaal Watan because she felt slighted at a wedding where each important person except her received a separate tray from which to eat.°” Thus rebuffed, Fatma Mwaita left Ibinaal Watan and started a rival group, Banu Saada.*® Fatuma binti Hassan, niece of the bandmaster of Kingi, then assumed the role of queen of [binaal Watan.

Membership patterns in these two associations, as in Kingi and Kilungu, reflected the Old Town social structure and social networks. Daughters of Kilungu largely entered Banu Saada, while

daughters of Kingi joined Ibinaal Watan.°? Members of Ibinaal Wa- | tan tended to come from the area of Old Town called Mjua Kale, traditionally a Nine Tribes neighborhood, and Banu Saada from Kuze and Mkanyageni, traditionally Three Tribes areas.*° Ibinaal Watan had a greater proportion of Omani Arabs, and Banu Saada relatively more “Africans,” “black people,’ or manegro. One woman first joined Banu Saada because it was predominant in Mkanyageni where she was born and thus most familiar. She then switched to Ibinaal Watan because the woman who raised her was a member.”

36. The city meant Mombasa, not the Twelve Tribes (Miji Kumi na Mbili); interviews with Fatma Saidi. 37. Interview with Zubeda Salim.

38. Banu Saada is also the name of the tribe of the Prophet’s wet nurse Halima. Knappert, Myths, p. 71. 39. Interview with Fatma Saidi. 40. Interviews. Mwana Isha binti Ali identifies these associations with these specific districts. Zubeda Salim states the ethnic affiliation explicitly. Fatuma Mohamed admits the connections between associations and neighborhoods, but denies ethnic affiliations. Fatma Saidi, the best informant regarding lelemama, says that [binaal Watan was mostly Nine Tribes. Banu Saada was not so exclusive, but many members came from Kuze, a Three Tribes area. 41. Interview with Mwana Isha binti Ali.

168 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA Such defections were not unusual. Another woman, having joined because of a familial association with Ibinaal Watan, changed to Banu Saada to maintain heshima when Ibinaal Watan members sang songs to shame a member of her household, a nanny who cared for the children.*? In some cases sisters or cousins were members of rival

groups, which in times of intense competition provided crosscutting loyalties, although it increased family tensions.**

Ngoma and the Community: The 1930s

While the women enjoyed themselves at lelemama, some of the leading men became alarmed at what they perceived to be the ill

effects of ngoma. The 1930s attack on ngoma was part of the general concern of men such as Sheik Al-Amin over the apparent degeneration of the community.

As early as 1926 citizens submitted petitions to the government complaining of “‘Night-Noises, Ngomas, Prostitutes, Gambling and Defaulting [i.c., runaway] Wives,” a bevy of evils in the burgeoning municipality.“ In 1931 the Mombasa Times added its voice in a patronizing and somewhat confused editorial where beni was linked to spirit possession and the two jointly denounced as noise.** An executive police order in 1932 banned sticks and liquor from performances, since violence was known to erupt at beni activities. Bands were prohibited from stopping on motor roads, playing after 9 P.M.., or performing outside the ‘‘Native Locations.’’*°

Finally, in response to charges that ngoma ‘“‘debauch[ed] men, women and children” and led to “extravagance and excesses,” the 42. Interview with Asha binti Khamis bin Mohamed Mutwafy.

43.Gluckman discusses cross-cutting loyalties in Custom and Conflict in Africa, pp. 17, 25. At times, communal loyalties took precedence over lelemama affiliation. During the 1927 rift between the Arabs and Twelve Tribes, lelemama was suspended. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

44.KNA MSA/1, MDAR 1926. Unfortunately, these complaints are not

detailed. 45.Mombasa Times, 7.1.31.

46.MMA 5/22, Executive Order, Superintendent of Police, Mombasa, 31.5.32. As early as 1911, fights were breaking out over ‘‘trivial’? matters during beni performances. KNA 1/37, Mombasa District Quarterly Report, December 1911, p. 2.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 169 Municipal Council passed regulatory legislation.*” According to these 1934 by-laws, the Mombasa district commissioner reported, certain

“immoral ngomas’” were prohibited entirely and “other native dances” were allowed only if permission was obtained in advance.*®

Although the council members did not specify their objections to each category of ngoma, they can be inferred. Three types of dances were completely prohibited in the 1934 by-laws: spirit exorcism ceremonies, puberty initiation dances, and the various communal celebrations for the New Year, for weddings, for Ramadhan, and the

like. The spirit dances often resulted in tremendous outlays of money for the person being cured, hence disapproval was probably based on extravagance as well as tinges of religious impropriety. The second category, puberty rites, might have been considered “immoral’’ by these men. The rites were a week-long mystery to nonparticipants. Most Arabs and members of the Twelve Tribes objected to them, saying that young girls were beaten and fed poison during the ngoma. Finally the reformers criticized communal festivities, particularly circumcision and wedding celebrations, on grounds of expense. “In the past these customs were acceptable,” wrote Sheik Al-Amin during the Depression, “because people had the means and the servants to do the work. Now, because of the burden and the shortage of help, it is imperative to stop these customs.””*?

The inclusion of lelemama, an apparently innocent dance, in the list of restricted ngoma suggests that lelemama was losing its harmless character. Indeed, one woman thought that the Municipal Coun-

cil prohibited Kibunzi and Mwaka, the New Year celebrations, because as the night progressed Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada vituperatively abused one another in song.*° Perhaps the association of ngoma with lesbianism and prostitution, both sexually threatening 47.MMA 5/22, D. S. Fraser, Town Clerk, referring to an earlier communica-

tion from the Muslim Reformation League, of which Sheik Al-Amin was a member; memo, 8.4.33. Sub-committee report written by Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, later liwali. MMA 5/22, 17.2.32. 48. KNA MSA/2, MDAR 1934; MMA 5/22.

ve “Ada Zetu Maarusini” (Our wedding customs), Uwongozi, no. 13 (1930), , 50. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

170 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA to men, constituted a real though unarticulated objection. Public controversy peaked when the bold daughters of Kingi and Kilungu challenged the values of their elders by mounting the lelemama bench to dance beside women of lower social status. This may have convinced members of the Municipal Council that lelemama was an immoral dance. Dancing, especially dancing without buibui in front of male spectators, as the daughters began to do in their competi-

tions, contravened Muslim values. Horrified, several older men threatened to go to the mosque and pray that their daughters and granddaughters would drop dead if they continued to dance so shamelessly.°’ But slowly standards changed. Whereas earlier an association achieved high status by having many freeborn supporters in the audience, now the group whose freeborn members had enough spirit to defy convention acquired prestige. An anecdote related by Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, an Ibinaal Watan rebel, elucidates both the nature of the opposition to elite women appearing in public and the possibility of young women flaunting conservative public opinion. The incident, which occurred before the women of free ancestry began dancing in public, involves Mohamed Salim Muhashamy and Nuru Shatry, the storyteller’s

parents. |

Once my father held a celebration for my mother. He went to great expense so that she would receive heshima. He paid a certain amount of money so that Banu Saada*? would present her with a wreath. Sadla [Kilungu] and Kingi bands were invited. My mother did not wear a buibui, rather, she wore a veil and sat on a stage. Men and women sat in the audience, divided by a curtain. My father gave the Queen of Banu Saada, Fatma Mwaita,

a gold ornament, and she in turn presented the wreath. Ibinaal Watan was very jealous. Three of my mother’s uncles, enraged, sent my father a letter. ““She is your wife, not your child,” they wrote. “Why do you take our child and treat her like a female 51. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

52. Bi Shamsa had relatives in both Banu Saada and Ibinaal Watan. When she was old enough to join a lelemama association her mother had already left Banu Saada, so she chose the other. Interview.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 171 house slave, placing her in front of people in this manner? If you cannot treat her properly, you should return her to us.” Bi Shamsa’s father had traveled and received education in Egypt. In addition to encouraging his wife to break with tradition, he sent his

daughter to the Church Missionary Society School in 1928 and taught her to ride a bicycle and shoot a gun.™ The example and influence of such liberal parents no doubt influenced some young women to rebel against tradition.

Another source of courage to defy convention, according to Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, was the rivalry and competition be-

tween Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada. ‘We just shut our eyes and danced and did not think about the people watching, we wanted so strongly to win the competition.’’*> Here is a case of a young woman

relying on one tradition, that of competing ngoma associations, to break down another, purdah. Peter Lienhardt, describing Swahili society in southern Tanzania, has suggested that competing associations “have a function in the gradual process of change, for if one or the other rival side embraces an innovation which proves to be attractive, the other has to copy it.”°° This accurately describes how competition promoted the loosening of purdah once the women of free ancestry had begun dancing, but it does not explain why the women chose to innovate by having elite women dance and march in processions. If they had been convinced that seclusion was a neces-

sary condition of heshima, they would not have volunteered to dance. Furthermore, if they had felt satisfied with a very constrained life, they would not have expanded their range of activities. In fact, they were rebelling. Their rebellion was not isloated from broader social change. Hostility from the religious elite and the example of liberal parents were

two elements of the 1930s environment. A third was the debate, stimulated by the progressive educational views of Sheik Al-Amin, 53. Interview.

54. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. See also chapter 4, Pe Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 56. Introduction, p. 20.

172 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMANA Ghazali, and others, over the position of women in Mombasa Muslim society. In advocating girls’ education Sheik Al-Amin was hardly a

revolutionary, but his newspaper views fueled the community’s reconsideration of the proper activities of women. Ironically, Sheik

Al-Amin was one of the community leaders who criticized Nuru Shatry’s display and the mission education of the young Shamsa. It was in this period of questioning that the young women challenged the established value of purdah. Observing up-country Africans and Europeans in increasing numbers in Mombasa, they saw alternative values and life-styles in practice. Since ngoma associations were the major public activity in which women engaged, they expressed their rebellion against their restricted lives through lelemama. Stepping onto the bench marked a change in consciousness on the

part of women of free ancestry. And new possibilities opened to them. If heshima could be maintained while dancing, why should women confine themselves to dancing for other women at weddings? Weekend picnics could now become community extravaganzas. Processions, formerly limited to male bands and a few women supporters from the lower class, eclipsed dancing, as this account indicates:

We went to Changamwe on the mainland on a Saturday. We ate one cow that day, danced lelemama, and spent the night there. The next day we slaughtered a second cow, and at 3 P.M. we donned our new costumes, uniforms like the British Navy. Each

week we had different clothes and more food. We came to Changamwe in our lorries and stepped out into the street. I tell you, in all Mombasa there was not a single person who would stay on the Island. They all came to watch the dance. Those who had cars came in cars, those who had bicycles came in bicycles, those with only legs walked. We did not wear our buibui, just our outfits. We stepped out into the street with our trumpets, our songs, and our firecrackers and marched-—left, right, left, right. We marched up to the bridge and into the city. Cars followed us, and people—more than for President Kenyatta even! >’

Lelemama rivlary also prompted involved creative joking. Banu 57. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 173 Saada once arranged for transportation from Mombasa Island to the

ngoma site at a mainland farm by offering all the taxi drivers in Mombasa a free meal there. The same day, when Ibinaal Watan tried to find rides, no taxis were available.** Outfits were of utmost importance. For each ngoma a completely new costume was designed from a magazine picture and sewn in secret. If one association learned in

advance what their opponent’s uniform of the day was to be, they might dress a dog or a cat in that outfit and let it loose at the ngoma to shame the rival dancers.® At various times Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada marched in costumes imitating the British Air Force, Army, and Navy, complete with hats, uniform, bell bottoms, carved wooden guns, and firecrackers to imitate hand grenades. On one occasion, with the aid of a railways employee, Ibinaal Watan members deposited their costumes in a trunk at the train station. The next day they organized a parade through town to go pick up their finery, claiming it had just arrived from Nairobi.©

While part of Mombasa bewailed the ill effects of ngoma on the citizenry, other people enjoyed the dances. Many cried extravagance and excess, but some husbands cheered as their wives marched down the street. These picnics and processions were fun, much more fun than sitting and watching someone else dance.

The 1940s: Cooperation and Competition

In the 1940s contradictory tendencies emerged in lelemama associations. A leso boycott revealed that lelemama might be a potent institution through which women could collectively control their own affairs. In response to wartime inflation that tripled food prices and raised the cost of leso, Nuru Shatry mobilized lelemama associations to boycott Asian shops that sold leso.*’ 58. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 59. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. James Brain describes an

incident of this sort that occurred in Arusha, Tanzania, in the mid-1950s. Personal communication, 1974. 60. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

61. For the wartime economy, see Hyder Kindy, p. 109; KNA MSA/3, MDAR 1942, p. 1. Nuru Shatry was not familiar with similar European and Indian consumer associations of this period; interview, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

174 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA Although all prices were high, leso were the only boycotted item. Though not a necessity in the same sense as food, leso were nonetheless important. To appear in last month’s design at a wedding was to

invite disparaging remarks, a fashion-consciousness reported as early as 1913 by a passing European. Leso were also an important element of women’s ceremonies. At puberty rites and lelemama title-

conferring feasts, leso constituted part of the customary gift. At weddings the bride received and redistributed several dozen leso. And part of the fee for a spirit exorcism was paid in leso.®* Hence, leso were significant both in ritual exchanges and as status markers. The boycott represented a remarkable effort in its conception and execution. From a son-in-law who worked in customs, Nuru Shatry discovered that the wholesale price of leso was five shillings; Indian merchants were selling them for twelve shillings.“ Sometime in 1942 she called together women from all over Mombasa, using new tech-

niques appropriate to an innovative idea, as well as old mechanisms.°° She spread the word by microphone, by having people from her family travel about Mombasa announcing the meeting, and by lelemama associations, which mobilized their memberships to participate. The role of the lelemama associations was essential, for no other organization drew Muslim women from all classes. Participation of the associations also highlights their cultural homogeneity, for the boycotted item was part of coastal culture and the women who joined in the protest were only the “Swahili,” not up-country, women.© In response, some women gathered at Bi Nuru’s house,

where she explained the purpose and plan of the boycott. Those 62. Stigand, p. 112. 63. See Topan, “Oral Literature.”

64. The basic story of the boycott comes from Nuru Shatry’s daughter, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, unless otherwise acknowledged; interviews. Although prices for the period of the boycott are not available to corroborate these figures, the CPA reveals some useful information. Leso cost nine and one-half shillings (about $1.30) for one pair in September of 1947. CPA MIL 37/III, no. 16. Dresses costing four to six shillings in 1939 sold for twenty to thirty shillings by 1948, a five or sixfold increase in nine years. CPA, MIL 37/11, District Commissioner, Majengo, report, no. 94A, 11.11.48. 65. Zuwena places the boycott just after people returned from the mainland, where they went during a brief evacuation in 1942; interview. 66. Interview with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano and Bi Zuwena.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 175 present agreed under oath to refrain from buying from Indian merchants and ended the meeting with a prayer that Allah bless their endeavor.

Despite the response to the meeting, Bi Nuru clearly did not expect united action by Mombasa’s factious women. To ensure that no one broke the oath and to prohibit others from buying, she stationed women with big sticks along the market to threaten men and women who came to buy leso from the merchants:

Near the Indians’ stores sat Swahili women with their sticks, some on this side, some on that, watching. When a Swahili woman entered the market to buy leso, they all gathered around

her and beat her. Even a man was not allowed to buy; if we knew he was from here, he did not have permission to be seen at the market.°’

Such tactics by respectable Muslim women represented a striking shift away from the traditional demands of purdah and foreshadowed future violence within lelemama associations.

Whether because the idea seemed sensible or because the customers were intimidated, the boycott was successful enough that one merchant approached Nuru Shatry and offered to sell wholesale

to her. Thus, she began selling at a price that undercut the market price. Having a source of leso may have encouraged more women to participate in the boycott. The boycott continued for a full year, but it failed to reduce prices or to develop an alternative marketing system for leso.®® Some factors, such as the international economic situation and inflation, were beyond the women’s control. A wartime shortage in leso is reported to have caused panic buying, further hindering Bi Nuru’s efforts.°?

But despite the promising beginnings, the women’s solidarity, so important to the success of the boycott, never jelled. Bi Nuru’s

own kinfolk are said to have broken the oath.” Other women refused to buy her leso, calling them rags, ignoring the fact that all 67. Interview with Bi Zuwena. 68. Interviews with Bi Zuwena and Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 69. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 70. Ibid.

176 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA leso ultimately came from the same source. “These silly people,” explained Bi Nuru’s daughter, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, “they feel that to buy from someone of their own tribe has less status than to buy from Asians or Europeans. And to wear expensive things brings higher status than to wear cheap things.” ’’ Whether

the crucial deterrent to solidarity was the fear of shortages, or a “colonial” determination of worth, or personal antagonisms is unclear. In addition to these difficulties, Bi Nuru was hindered by the lack of a tradition for collective action. It was no mean task to reorient women from conspicuous consumption to consumer boycott. This episode underlines several key developments among Muslim women. A few women from liberal families broke with the traditional female Muslim role. Bi Nuru could read Swahili, write her name, and speak a little English, thanks to her husband’s efforts. Ten years after brazenly appearing in public veiled but without a

buibui, she was organizing a boycott. Such political action was unprecendented among Mombasa’s Muslim women. And, when the momentous changes of the 1950s occurred, her daughter Shamsa was in the forefront. An innovative woman required a flexible institution for initiating changes. Lelemama associations provided the necessary organizational base, having already shown themselves to be adaptive and open to new ideas.

The boycott had not, however, overcome the internal conflicts that divided women in one lelemama association from those in another. Lelemama members did not transcend the fitina, or dissension, that characterizes coastal society. The rivalry between associations

did not always take the benign form of practical jokes. Animosity often resulted from “‘principled stands” taken by members over insults or matters of status. In one instance a women invited both Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada to a memorial service following her father’s death. Although the woman was a member of both associations, Banu Saada refused to attend if Ibinaal Watan was also invited.” 71. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

72. Interview with Fatma Saidi. This probably occurred between World

Wars I and II.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 177 In another case, a member of Banu Saada was invited to the wedding celebration of a relative whose family had Ibinaal Watan connections. After attending, she was confronted by Banu Saada, who said she must give a large tea party in penance for associating with Ibinaal Watan.” Perhaps Banu Saada’s insistence on total loyalty was its way of compensating for Ibinaal Watan’s elitism.

Ibinaal Watan took pride in its elite membership. One woman reports that Ibinaal Watan recruited her by appeals such as, ‘‘Join us,

we are of free ancestry.” When Young Vila football club was in the process of affiliating with Banu Saada, members of Ibinaal Watan and the daughter of the queen of Kingi argued that the club should affiliate instead with Ibinaal Watan, because both were composed of Arabs.” Ibinaal Watan’s elitism provided some of the artillery in a particularly violent episode of rivalry following World War II.” As one woman put it, “The Europeans had their war and we had ours!””’ The intensity of the lelemama war is explained partially by ethnic and class divisions, which were exacerbated by wartime inflation.

Ibinaal Watan activated these tensions by jeering at Banu Saada members in the street and calling them majakazi (female slaves). Hostility continues between some people to this day, and after twenty-five years each side still claims victory.”* The following 73. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 74. Interview with Mwana Furaha binti Khalfani. 75. Interview with Nassir Mohamed Mazrui (conducted by Fatma Hussein). 76. Interviews. Alya Namaan, thinks that the war occurred after World War II, because she remembers the lelemama war but not the world war. She was

born in 1936. Fatma Saidi claims that the lelemama war occurred between World War If and Mau Mau. Mwana Halima and Fatma Mohamed agree. Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, who is generally reliable on dates, claims that the lelemama war occurred between 1942 and 1944; I have chosen the former interpretation because more people support it and because Alya Namaan’s personal experience seems to be a valid reason for excluding the 1942-1944

period.

77. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

78. Asha binti Khamis bin Mohamed, who belonged to Banu Saada at the time of the competition, reported that the judge called it a draw. This is most likely, given the bitterness surrounding the competition. By committing himself to one side or the other, a judge was bound to lose popularity with the defeated contestants. Interview.

178 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA account, given by an Ibinaal Watan participant, evokes the spirit of

the contest.”” One day while Asha and Khadija, from Banu Saada and Ibinaal

Watan respectively, were talking, they hit upon the idea of having a competition. Each spoke to her club, which agreed to have a cattle competition, such as those held by ngoma associations in Tanganyika. Ibinaal Watan began by giving Banu Saada five cattle, which were to be eaten at a lelemama ngoma. Through an informant in the butchery we discovered that Banu Saada had not slaughtered all five cattle, but had returned some to the market to sell, in order to finance their gift to us. We called a special ngoma to shame them, dancing out in the open to attract passersby, and singing, ““The cattle were sold at the market, so Bwana

James says.” Banu Saada was very bitter, and after that when rival women passed one another in the street they would fight with sticks. Then Banu Saada gave Ibinaal Watan ten cattle—by the rule of ngoma one must return double the original gift.°° We celebrated

each weekend, feasting, dancing, and parading, until we had eaten all ten cattle.

We were preparing to offer Banu Saada twenty cattle. Then word leaked that they were not ready to accept twenty because they could not afford to give forty in return. Without admitting defeat, they wanted five from those which they had given us.*" So, we teased them in the streets, singing, ““They are crying for their cattle.” Feelings ran so sour that each weekend we would have ngoma to sing abuses to each other. If someone from Banu Saada had a wedding or funeral, an Ibinaal Watan member would not go, even if it was for her own relatives. 79. Anonymous informant. What follows is paraphrased and edited except where quotation marks indicate a direct translation. Names have been changed.

80. See p. 166 for the doubling rule. See also Lienhardt, Introduction, p. 18, for the necessity of proving that the cattle have actually been eaten.

81.Ibinaal Watan gave Banu Saada five cattle; Banu Saada returned ten. Banu Saada wanted to end the competition in a draw, receiving five cattle from Ibinaal Watan so that each association’s expenditure would have been five cattle at the end of the competition.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 179 We decided to have one last ngoma to settle the competition. Chief Ali bin Namaan was asked to select a committee of judges. Each side performed and the judges chose us. We had a bigger

audience and more spirit. That was the second time we beat them, but Banu Saada refused to accept the judgment. Then the war escalated. One day, coming home from a wedding in Kibokoni, my friend and I met Asha and a friend of hers from Banu Saada. “Stop!” they said. “Aha,” I thought to myself,

“now we have work to do!” “Why do you abuse my mother when you see her in the street?” “I abuse your mother, so what?”’ said my friend. The two started tussling, and soon the

other woman and I joined in. You know, we were in Kuze, enemy territory, but we fought until those two from Banu Saada ran into a nearby house. Then many Ibinaal Watan women came running to support us and threw firewood and stones, breaking windows in the house. The police finally arrived and broke it up; we were allowed to go home. From that day on Banu Saada was forbidden to pass on our streets, and we on theirs. If we went visiting we stuck to main roads and avoided the narrow paths between houses. Then one day during Ramadhan, Banu Saada taunted us by coming right

down the main street in our district, dancing as if they were escorting a bridegroom to the bride’s house, but actually they were singing abuses at us. I was sitting outside with a friend, only

two of us, but we prepared for war. If they successfully passed down that street, we could never live it down. ““Let’s go and get them,” I said. I took my stick and hid behind a building. My friend wrapped her leso tight around herself and held her rungu. They came down the street at us with panga, axes, rungu, everything.®? Some assistance arrived, and we successfully defended the street, although we had to take some casualties to the hospital to be stitched. What was the meaning of such competition? Lienhardt argues that competition is an integrating force. In a small village ‘any fragmen82. A rungu isa stick with a knob on the end; a panga is a large machete.

180 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA tary group within the village is drawn to the support of one side or

the other, and hence the opposition of the two halves produces solidarity within each of them in the place of a much greater number

of oppositions between smaller groups.’ However, in a town as large as Mombasa, women had a wider range of alternatives and did not need to join one of the two competing associations. Disgruntled members of subgroups could always form new dance associations

and frequently did. From the narration above, the Ibinaal WatanBanu Saada competition appears to have solidified neighborhood groupings that defined vague boundaries for recruitment into rival associations. But the benefits of such solidarity seem small compared to the drawbacks that the animosity produced during the war. Lelemama served as an important outlet for women’s frustrations,

particularly in this war, but also in other competitions. The only

other vent for hostility and frustration was gossip, which was socially acceptable and widely practiced though forbidden by religion. Men could channel ethnic antagonisms into political associa-

tions. Women, excluded from these organizations, shouted and fought one another in the street instead. Men also expressed their communal identity, solidarity, and antagonism in mosque attendance. Women could not express religious community or hostility in this way. It is instructive that in Bagamoyo, Tanganyika, where women were allowed to participate in Qadiriyya activities, tariga membership among women increased dramatically after the government banned women’s ngoma associations in 1936.™ In effect, lele-

mama associations in Mombasa constituted the most important arena of public activity for women at this time. Because their structure sanctioned the expression of antagonism and hostility, women used the familiar mechanism of lelemama to express anger arising from ethnic rivalries, personal vendettas, marital disputes, or patri-

archal restrictions on their behavior. Given the limited means of expressing frustration, it is not surprising that, in the words of the Lamu district commissioner “‘not a little friction occurred between 83. Introduction, p. 20. 84. Nimtz, pp. 304, 307, 423. Nimtz discusses women’s ngoma groups in terms of ethnic antagonisms.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: LELEMAMA 181 members of rival ngomas, more particularly the female element.”® After the street warfare in the late 1940s, the municipal government is said to have banned lelemama for a period, since whenever women got together to dance, they could not suppress the desire to abuse the opposition.®° At first, even with ngoma banned, the antagonism persisted: “‘ngoma could be stopped, but lips could not.”8” Slowly, however, hostility subsided. With fewer opportunities to reopen old wounds publicly, relationships in Old Town healed to the point of civility. But Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada never recovered their former vitality. Without the element of competition, lelemama

lost much of its appeal. Lelemama continues today and in Kaloleni, a Majengo settlement, two new associations have formed named Coast and Fujo (Swahili for chaos). The associations reflect the postcolonial political climate but maintain essentially the same functions as earlier associations. Coast, which is linked to Coast Football Club, claims a membership

of wananchi, a term representing the common citizens of Kenya. Coast calls its rival wageni (foreigners) because of the largely Arab membership of Fujo. Fujo and Coast are further reminiscent of Kingi, Kilungu, Ibinaal Watan, and Banu Saada in their titles and costumes, including British Navy uniforms.®°

Clearly, lelemama associations continue because the individual and societal needs that lelemama satisfied in the past still exist. Lelemama networks are utilized to mobilize women for today’s political struggles as they were in the 1942 boycott. However, lelemama’s cultural and social hegemony in the lives of Mombasa’s women has been broken by other associational forms. 85. KNA LMU/2, Lamu District Annual Report 1933, p. 21. 86, Bagamoyo’s district commissioner also banned all public ngoma, fearing “a bad riot in Bagamoyo and probably loss of life,” following a dispute among

the women that related to broader social cleavages. Nimtz, p. 304, citing National Archives of Tanzania, 61/55/I, District Commissioner to Provincial Commissioner, August 28, 1936. 87. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 88. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed, Alya Namaan, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

89. This information comes from Fatma Hussein, who conducted research on Kaloleni. I appreciate the use of her data and her helpful suggestions.

Women’s Collectivities:

Improvement Associations In the late 1950s Muslim women in Mombasa organized two improvement associations, the Arab Women’s Institute (later called the Muslim Women’s Institute) and the Arab Women’s Cultural Association

(later, the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association). The term “‘improvement” reflects the women’s perceptions of themselves as back-

ward, particularly in comparison with Asian women.' Muslim women were poorly trained for participation in sexually and ethnically mixed groups. They took little direct part in community politics. “Improvement” meant acquiring the skills to function in a modern,

socially complex Mombasa. Furthermore, the new improvement associations had two characteristics that were lacking in lelemama, “moral seriousness and social awareness.’’” 1. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. See also her comments pp. 184, 187. I have not included in this discusson the national women’s organization, Maendeleo ya Wanawake (Women’s Progress), which originated through colonial government initiative. Although some Muslim women are

members of the Mombasa chapter of Maendeleo, the organization did not grow out of the Muslim community as did the Institute and the Cultural Association. For Maendeleo, see various articles by Audrey Wipper: ‘‘Equal Rights for Women in Kenya?” Journal of Modern African Studies 9, no. 3 (1971), 429-42; “The Politics of Sex,” African Studies Review 14, no. 3 (December 1971), 463-82; ‘““‘The Maendeleo ya Wanawake Organization: The

Cooptation of Leadership,” African Studies Review 18, no. 3 (December 1975), 99-120; ‘“‘The Maendeleo ya Wanawake Movement in the Colonial Period: The Canadian Connection, Mau Mau, Embroidery and Agriculture,” Rural Africana, no. 29 (Winter 1975-76), pp. 195-214. 2. The words are John Iliffe’s, from Tanganyika Under German Rule, 19051912 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 166. Iliffe says that

political leaders during the “Age of Improvement” accepted the colonial framework but tried to change it, focused on local issues, and saw no conflict between individual gain and community improvement. 182

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 183

There are many continuities between the two kinds of organizations. The improvement associations recruited leaders from lelemama groups’; membership patterns reflected the factional splits between Ibinaal Watan and Banu Saada; there persisted a lingering, if fading,

legacy of competition and bickering; and the new improvement associations were concerned with prestige. However, the founders of

the improvement associations found lelemama inadequate for the changing times. Many years after leaving lelemama, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy articulated her dissatisfaction with the ngoma associations:

These associations were good only for fun. Sometimes they would be called upon to entertain if a dignitary came. But they had no strength. Because they were not registered, they could not help collect money [for a cause]. They could not represent women if the Queen Mother, for example, came. They did not help with social welfare matters.‘ Not all women shared her opinions. The improvement associations attracted fewer women than did lelemama, perhaps because of their more serious goals. The fact that the names of the associations exist only in English suggests an appeal to more Western-oriented women. Just as the adoption of European military titles and dress by lelemama associations reflected the colonial milieu in which they functioned, so the newer organizations were clearly products of a colonial era. Since being classified ““Arab’’ was a step above being “‘African,” these groups of women chose to identify their constituency as Arab.

‘‘Arab”’ was not so much an ethnic marker as a status claim, as is

shown in the definition given by a representative of the Arab Women’s Institute in 1960; “Arab” meant “wanawake wa Kimiji [women of Old Town] ... and these include Arabs, Swahilis, and 3.Saada Mohamed Gharib and Kibibi Mohamed Gharib, Omani supporters of Banu Saada, helped begin the Arab Women’s Cultural Association; interview with Fatuma Mohamed. Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy was active in Ibinaal Watan and was a founding member of the Arab Women’s Institute; interview. Fatuma Mohamed, a member of Banu Saada, was one of the original members of the Arab Women’s Cultural Association; interview. Mombasa Times, 7.8.58. 4. Interview.

184 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

Baluchis.”* Thus, while the new organizations were identified as Arab, they, like lelemama, drew members from several ethnic groups. Competition for prestige within the colonial framework led to the

formation of the Arab Women’s Institute and the Arab Women’s Cultural Association. Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, a founder of the Arab Women’s Institute, recalls Arab women’s sense of inferiority to Asian women, who had formed an Indian Women’s Association many years earlier. She relates, the liwali’s wife,

Bi Uba, and I saw the Indian Women’s Association stall at the Mombasa Show, where they were displaying handicraft items. The Vice-President of the Association asked us, “Why don’t you people have a stall like this. You are really lagging behind. You are idiots[wapumbavu] , you can’t do anything, you have no display of your handiwork here. You just sit around your houses.” I was so bitter that from that day I vowed to organize a women’s association.®

After an abortive attempt in 1955 to form an Arab Women’s Association, the visit of Princess Margaret in the following year pro-

vided the necessary impetus for organization.’ Various women agreed with the suggestion of an Arab member of the Legislative Council that there should be one organization of women to receive dignitaries on behalf of Mombasa’s Arab women. Speaking four years later a representative of the Arab Women’s Institute explained

the hostility aroused when it was left to the wife of the liwali to select guests at official receptions: “When word came from the Government that a list should be prepared in connection with the visit of an important person some names were left out and some people felt that they were socially as important as the next person and dissatisfaction arose.”® While this may seem petty, it reflects competition for prestige between individuals and ethnic groups. To prepare for Princess Margaret’s visit, a group was formed to recruit 5. Fureya Barakat Lemky, quoted in the Mombasa Times, 21.4.60. 6. Interview.

7.Mombasa Times, 9.2.55, see chapter 7, p. 193; interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 8. Lemky, quoted in Mombasa Times, 21.4.60.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 185

among specific ethinic groups by neighborhood. Before more permanent structures could be built, Bi Uba, liwali’s wife, died.? The rivalry between ethnic groups and individuals surfaced when

Bi Uba’s death removed the semblance of unity that had preceded Princess Margaret’s visit. Before various segments of the temporary

sroup could gather again, forty women from the Mjua Kale and Kibokoni nieghborhoods of Mombasa met in December 1957 and formed the Arab Women’s Institute, a “cultural and social organization.”’!° The officers and committee members represented the Omani

elite of Mombasa."' Despite its claim that membership was not restricted to Arabs, a reputation for exclusiveness plagued the organi-

zation from the start. A year and a half after its inception, the representative of the Arab Women’s Institute proclaimed: “We bear

grudge against no one and are willing to work hand in hand with all... . We have been accused at times of discrimination. I deny this vehemently, as the books of our membership will show.”!”

Angry at being preempted and excluded by these forty, other women started the Arab Women’s Cultural Association in August 1958.!° Although these women now openly admit that relations of the two organizations were antagonistic at the start, they were scrupulous in denying such ill feeling at the time. In explaining the purpose of the Arab Women’s Cultural Association to the Mombasa

Times, the vice-president stated that they wanted “to bring the 9. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 10. Mombasa Times, 19.12.57. This newspaper reported that the organizing

meeting took place the previous Thursday. Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy places the date at 26.957. 11. Officials listed in the Mombasa Times, 19.12.57, have been identified by Fatuma binti Ali Jeneby. President: Itidal Said Seif (wife of Said bin Seif Bu Saidi, the nephew of the former liwali Sir Ali bin Salim). Secretary: Fureya

Barakat Lemky (daughter of Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, the liwali for the Coast). Assistant Treasurer: Mrs. Ashu Sultan bin Brek (daughter of Sir Ali bin Salim). Honourable Secretary: Mrs. Fathiya Abdalla Soud (granddaughter of Sir Ali bin Salim). Committee members included Mrs. Fatuma Maamun bin Suleman Mazrui (wife of the kadhi). Miss Shariffa Abdalla Salim (daughter of Shariff Abdalla Salim, Arab member of the Legislative Council), others from elite Omani families: Muhashamy, Mazrui, Timami, Jeneby, Mandhry. 12. Lemky, quoted in Mombasa Times, 21.4.60. 13.Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed and Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

186 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

women of the community together... . [T] here [is] no suggestion of rivalry with another women’s organization formed at the beginning of the year.’’!* Ms. Gray, principal of the Arab Girls’ School, actively helped organize the new association. Because their meetings

were held at Makupa rather than in Old Town, the Arab Women’s Cultural Association attracted women from the newer Majengo areas of Mombasa, including many Hadrami Arabs.’® Although it lacked the sprinkling of wives and daughters of liwalis and kadhis found in the Arab Women’s Institute, the Arab Women’s

Cultural Association membership included various elite Twelve Tribes and Arab families. However, the officers and committee, consisting of Hadrami, Baluchi, Punjabi, Omani Arabs, and Twelve Tribes women, reflected greater ethnic diversity than found among the founders of the Arab Women’s Institute.!® Members tended to join according to criteria of residence, friendship, and former associations. Thus, Arab Women’s Institute mem-

bers came mostly from Mjua Kale and Kibokoni districts within Old Town, and [binaal Watan participants tended to join the Arab Women’s Institute rather than the Arab Women’s Cultural Association. Similarly, many Arab Women’s Cultural Association members

from Old Town lived in Kuze and Mkanyageni, the areas of Banu Saada strength, and those who had been in lelemama associations earlier included many Banu Saada members.'”? To be sure, whole lelemama associations did not transform themselves into the new organizations. But relationships and hostilities that had solidified

during the heyday of lelemama influenced the choice of organization. Some women with no interest in lelemama were strong supporters of the new organizations, and some active in lelemama

did not move into either the Arab Women’s Institute or the Arab Women’s Cultural Association.

Compared with lelemama associations, a larger proportion of members of the newer associations seem to come from elite fam14. Fatuma Mohamed, quoted in the Mombasa Times, 7.8.58. 15. Interview with Alya Namaan. 16. List in Mombasa Times, 7.8.58, identified by Fatuma Mohamed. 17. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashainy and Fatuma Mohamed. Alya Namaan dissents, saying that former Ibinaal Watan members are on the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association nursery school committee.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 187

ilies."® Given their goals, this elitism is not surprising. As relatives of the liwali and other Muslim reformers, elite women could be personally persuaded to take up the causes of girls’ education and social welfare. Contact with Egypt or Europe instilled a commitment to women’s education and social reform in some families.’?

Poor women not only had less exposure to the reforming consciousness, they were not “socially important’’ enough to participate

in the squabbles that marked the founding of these organizations of ““Arab” women.””

During its initial years, the Arab Women’s Institute continued to

be concerned with winning prestige. For example, in 1957 they invited Seyyid Khalifa, the sultan of Zanzibar, to visit Mombasa. The importance of the occasion to the women is seen in the following recollection: This was the first really beneficial thing we did, and all women now knew that we had become equals. We invited those very Asian women who had called us fools. We had tea and a reception for Khalifa in a rented building, and we invited everyone. We informed him about the Arab Women’s Association. .. .7!

Now those Asians could see just how we had “improved.” ... We were the first [women] even to know what a hotel was like. Our organization brought our women into the Oceanic Hotel [to receive Seyyid Khalifa]. .. . Now we were real women. Today we women of buibui have begun to enter hotels, even market places in the morning [during the busiest time]. But the organi-

zation brought us to the hotel. There were Europeans and 18. Evidence of this is impressionistic rather than statistical. I did not compare membership lists, since membership is flexible, particularly for the Cultural Association. However, in questioning my informants I found that many lower-class women who had been active in lelemama and makungwi associations had not entered improvement associations. On the other hand, women from elite families, even those who had not joined lelemama, were active in either the Institute or the Cultural Association. 19. See Chapter 6, p. 171. Also, Alya Namaan was raised by her grand-

father, who had traveled in Europe. Her mother had attended school in Zanzibar for a few years. The family ignored public pressure, and Alya was sent to school at age six, in 1942. 20. See note 8 and corresponding quotation. 21. She means the Arab Women’s Institute.

188 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

Indians there. We rented the place and entertained our guests with lectures and speeches in English and Swahili. We saw that now we were equal.?”

The recollection acknowledges these women’s sense of competition with Asian women’s standards of achievement. Their criterion for judging improvement and equality was acquisition of social skills; for women raised in purdah, mixing at a social gathering with men and women from various ethinic communities was an important first step. These women have taken more steps in the past few years to equip

themselves with skills needed in a broader society. Renamed the Muslim Women’s Institute and the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association, the organizations emphasize the openness of their membership

within the Muslim community, a position that they feel is more appropriate in postcolonial Kenya. The Muslim Women’s Institute conducts a varied program directed at the needs of women themselves and society in general. At different times it has offered classes in adult literacy, religion, child care,

and sewing. Beyond this commitment to raising the educational level of Muslim women, the organization has supported community projects such as relief funds for Zanzibari refugees and victims of a fire in Lamu, aid to mosques and religious classes for children, fundraising for the Coast Institute of Technology, and scholarships for

students pursuing university studies abroad.” In autumn 1976 ground was broken to build a hall to provide space for adult education classes, a small library, and fund-raising functions. Through debate and by personal example, members have tried to

change community attitudes on important issues. The Muslim Women’s Institute has objected to the custom of lavish funerals and weddings during which neighbors and relatives are fed for several days. Islam, they say, prescribes for funerals a period of quiet prayer and visits by friends. The Institute has also stated that rich and poor alike should make only moderate expenditures for weddings.” This campaign has met with limited success; indeed, various Muslim re22. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. She used the English word “‘improve”’ in the midst of her Swahili. 23. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 24. Minutes of the Muslim Women’s Institute, 31.10.68, in the possession of Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 189

formers have been advocating these changes since the mid-1930s.”°

The Institute has debated other issues, such as the custom of displaying publicly the bridal bedsheet as evidence of the bride’s virginity. Younger members object to exposing what they consider to be a private matter; older members affirm the public confirmation of a community-held value.”°

Following a different program, the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association has concentrated on building and running a private nur-

sery school, now called Mbaraki Nursery School. At first, adult courses were offered in child care, hygiene, literacy, religion, sewing,

and embroidery.”’ In 1960 these classes were dropped to put all energies into raising the 215,000 shillings ($30,000) needed to build

the school. After more than ten years of soliciting gifts and fund raising, the women opened the new building with a ceremony in 1971 at which President Kenyatta officiated. Mzee Kenyatta himself contributed 45,000 shillings to the school, remarking how surprised

tively .7° ,

he was that women in buibui had mobilized themselves so effecThough giving credit to the organizations for their efforts to educate and assist both Muslim women and the community as a whole, I must point out some limitations of their approach. Both the Muslim Women’s Institute and the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association have failed to act on some issues that, to the outside observer, are of utmost importance to Muslim women. For several years the Kenya National Assembly has been considering bills which will revise marriage, divorce, and succession laws.?? The Muslim Women’s Institute did not lobby for passage but merely replied to a request from the government for their reaction to the bills. °° Following the Koran, the Muslim Women’s Institute objected

to the succession bill’s provision that daughters and sons inherit 25.See Al-Amin bin Ali Mazrui, ‘“‘Ada Zetu Maarusini’’ (Our wedding customs), Uwongozi, no. 13 (1930), p. 23. Also see p. 191. 26. Interview with Sulafa Mazrui. 27. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed; Mombasa Times, 7.8.58. 28. Interviews with Alya Namaan and Fatuma Mohamed.

29.See Report of the Commission on the Law of Marriage and Divorce (Nairobi: Government Printer, 1968). The proposed law has not been acted upon. 530. Interviews with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

190 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

equal portions.*’ This objection, based as it is in religious orthodoxy, is understandable.

Less clear is the organization’s disinterest in supporting the marriage and divorce bill, which would provide women and men the same grounds for divorce: irreparable breakdown of the marriage. Under Shafi’i law, which prevails on the coast, men need give no particular reason for divorcing their wives.*? However, women’s grounds are limited to three causes: inability of the husband to consummate

the marriage; the repudiation of the wife, at puberty, of a marriage contracted for her while she was a child; and in some cases, nonsupport. Having proved one of these, a woman may be granted a divorce

by the kadhi.** There are no orthodox religious objections to the marriage and divorce bill that are based on Koranic injunction. Indeed, male religious leaders support the new bill that expands women’s grounds for divorce, but the women’s organizations have not rallied to the cause.” Nor have the women’s organizations mounted a campaign to expunge the most obvious examples of male dominance and orientation from religious life, even though these issues have been discussed 31. The succession bill has been passed and provides that in the absence of a will stating otherwise, a Muslim’s sons and daughters will inherit equal shares.

Kenya Gazette Supplement (Nairobi: Government Printer, 17 November 1972), Act 14 of 1972, The Law of Succession Act 1972. By Muslim law each man’s share is twice as large as each woman’s share. This provision, unlike provisions for divorce, is stated explicitly in the K oran and is thus considered to be unalterable, revealed word. Muslim leaders objected to the new succession

bill because it forces a Muslim dying intestate to break the direct word of Allah. Interview with Mohamed Kassim Mazrui, former chief kadhi. 32. Chapter 2, p. 28; chapter 3, p. 57.

33.The Koran does not stipulate grounds for divorce: thus these are alterable. Various legal schools, following the interpretation of different legal scholars, have different grounds for which a woman may be granted a divorce

by the kadhi. See Arthur Phillips and Henry F. Morris, Marriage Law in Africa (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), p. 130. In most Muslim countries, liberalization of divorce law has been achieved by adopting legal precedents from the Maliki school of law, which provides the largest number of grounds for women to receive divorces. See N. J. Coulson, A History of Islamic Law, Islamic Surveys, 2 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1964), part 3. 34.Muslim leaders favor the new divorce law; interview with Mohamed Kassim Mazrui.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 191

for years by male reformers. As many as two decades ago, the Mom-

basa Times reported that the chief of Mombasa, Sheik Ali bin Namaan, interrupted his own speech criticizing the “extravagance of Arab weddings” to plead for special accommodations in mosques for women. The absence of a separate room or screen to shield women from the eyes of men “amounts, in all, to the exclusion of women

from the House of Worship .. . and has by no means any place in Islam. .. . Yes, deprive them of the lavish weddings, but we have no right to deprive them of the solace of the House of God.” He concluded with the paternalistic assurance that “after the initial hesitancy and natural indecision . . . they will flock to the mosques, responding to the newly-won right as a small plant, withered by the heat, lifts its leaves to the first drop of rain.”°> The sheik’s plea has gone unheeded. At the 1973 opening of a new mosque in Mombasa, some women grumbled at being excluded after they had contributed money for its construction. However, while the mosque was being

planned no women’s organizations demanded that a separate women’s section be included.*®

The underlying philosophy of the two Muslim women’s organizations and their reluctance to engage in politics explains the women’s conservatism. At various times leaders have expressed the need to organize in order to improve the situation of women. But the fact remains that both groups have developed as self-help and communityoriented associations, more than feminist pressure groups.*’ Not

surprisingly, their most political activities have occurred when a feminist issue is intertwined with ethnic rivalry. For example, individually and through the Arab Women’s Institute,

women organized a political campaign over the issue of Arab women’s suffrage. In 1959, one hundred Arab women successfully petitioned the colonial government in Kenya to protest discriminatory legislation that denied them the vote but gave it to women of 35. Mombasa Times, 6.10.54.

36. Reported to me by Dorothea Driever, who attended the opening of the Majengo Mosque on 24.2.73.

37. For examples of their concern for women, see pp. 184, 186, and 188. For the nonfeminist orientation of African women’s groups, see Pala, p. 10.

192 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

other ethnic communities.*® Next the women began a registration campaign that lasted a full year and involved house to house visits by Arab women to explain to their neighbors what voting was and why Arab women should vote just like Asian, African, and European women. Active in the registration campaign, the Arab Women’s Institute deposited a 10,000-shilling guarantee against illegalities to be allowed to take the registration cards around to women rather than bring women to the district commissioner’s office to register.°° This women’s suffrage episode deceptively suggests a feminist orientation to the Arab Women’s Institute. In fact, coming in the midst of

the campaign for coast autonomy, the motivation for the suffrage campaign was primarily ethnic rather than feminist. Arabs needed all the votes they could get. Moreover, the suffrage issue served another purpose for the young men who supported the women’s cause. While throwing their support behind the “struggle for liberty and equality from men’s imperialism,’” the young men of the Afro-Arab Youth

League could challenge the older male leadership who opposed women’s suffrage and with whom the young men had other disagreements.’ Despite the language and facade of feminism, the successive activities of the Afro-Arab Youth League and the women’s

improvement associations did not confront other areas of “men’s imperialism.”’ Rather, women’s rights was one weapon to be used in

the generational contest for political leadership and the colonial game of ethnic competition. A second example illustrates the willingness of Muslim women to engage in protest when concern for women’s rights was augmented

by ethnicity in a political issue. In August 1970 the Institute and the Cultural Association joined the Mombasa Women’s Association

(an Asian group), the YWCA, and Maendeleo ya Wanawake (a 38.Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. Salim, p. 229. 39. Interview with Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy.

40, Abdalla S. Zubeidi, Letter to the editor, Mombasa Times, 23.4.59. It is not clear if this is an official statement of the organization, or the opinion of the writer. 41. According to Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, Liwali Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, S. A. Shatry, and Mahfoud Mackawi all opposed Arab women’s suffrage; interview. For the generational antagonisms, see Salim, Peoples, pp. 221, 229-30.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 193

national women’s group) to condemn the forced marriage of young Asian women in Zanzibar to African members of the Revolutionary

Council there. The spokesperson for the groups criticized forced marriage as “‘reduc[ing] women to the level of animals. . . . It is not

a matter of race. It is a matter of human rights and dignity. We women will never consent to be turned into slaves and animals.’”*?

However shocked the women were by the idea of forced marriage, _ the distress of the Asian and non-Asian Muslim women presumably was enhanced by the losses experienced by their relatives and friends in the Zanzibar revolution, in which Africans rose up against Arabs and Asians. Their support of women’s rights was sincere, but the ethnic overtones of this event no doubt gave force to their concern. Yet Mombasa had at least one Muslim feminist. A woman speaking at an early abortive attempt to form a women’s organization in 1955 articulated clearly that women should organize for themselves: A women’s association should be formed and be entrusted with the task of devising ways and means to raise funds among ourselves so that we, too, could have what we need, in the way of maternities, nursing homes and a nursery school for our daughters —even if it takes us a generation to achieve our aims.”

The three hundred women listening heard the speaker emphasize the need for women’s independence. The money was to come from “among ourselves’ and the benefits were to go to women and their daughters alone. The organization never took hold, perhaps because of its ideology.

This statement stands in sharp contrast to the stated goals of the Arab Women’s Institute. As reported in the Mombasa Times, the main speaker at the first gathering “explained that the purpose of the meeting was to form a ladies club in Mombasa... . [S] uch an Organization would bring some benefit not only to the women but also to their families and community. ‘As mothers, we have a reponsibility to our children, families and the community as a whole. Upon 42. East African Standard, 10.10.70. For Zanzibar see Michael F. Lofchie,

1968) Background to Revolution (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 43. Mrs. Mohamed Ali Moses, quoted in Mombasa Times, 9.2.55.

194 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS

us will depend progress.’”“* Community service, not only women’s needs, justified “‘a ladies club.” The Institute’s program reflects this assumption in its aid to refugees, scholarships, and women’s classes. Separate instruction is given to women in religion, literacy, and first aid because rules of modesty forbid the mixing of men and women. But scholarships are allocated to both young men and women, evi-

dence that the organization does not perceive any special need to support the latter. Their emphasis on women stems from purdah rather than feminist ideology. Similarly, the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association began with

literacy, health, and handicraft classes for women. After a short time, a delegation of women approached the president of the association and suggested that a nursery school for their children was of greater use and importance to them than adult education.** Given limitations of finance and energy, the leaders have decided to suspend all other activities until the school is running efficiently. The Muslim Women’s Cultural Association has concentrated its interest on the welfare of the children of the community rather than on that of women.

Thus, neither the Institute nor the Cultural Association has become a women’s pressure group. While this is primarily because of the women’s nonfeminist perspective, it also stems from their postindependence reluctance to engage in politics. Many women in the two associations, because of their Arab identification, supported the

Coast People’s party during the fight for coast autonomy just prior to independence.*© With the failure of this movement to affiliate the Muslim coast with Zanzibar under the sultan, these Arabs have felt discredited and powerless under the new African government. When starting their nursery school in 1960, the Cultural Association decided that engaging in partisan politics could only jeopardize their cause.*” Generally disenchanted with politics, the women are unwill-

ing to work through their associations in the long-term mobilizing 44. Mrs. Ashu Sultan bin Brek, quoted in Mombasa Times, 19.12.57. 45. Interview with Fatuma Mohamed. 46. See chapter 2, p. 41; Salim, Peoples, pp. 233-43. 47. Interviews with Fatuma Mohamed.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVIFIES: IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS 195

campaigns that would be necessary for supporting the marriage and divorce bill.*8

Like the lelemama associations, the improvement associations have met certain personal and community needs—whether for entertainment, prestige, mutual aid, or self-improvement. The contribution of

enforced sexual segregation through purdah to the formation of a women’s subculture, seen in wedding celebrations, lelemama associations, and these improvement associations, has been great. But it is

testimony to the power of ethnic identification that the Institute’s and the Cultural Association’s most fervent response to particular issues have resulted when a perceived threat to the members’ ethnic or communal group galvanized female solidarity.

48. While the organizations do not take political stands, the leaders as individuals occasionally support candidates for office. Furthermore, in 1973 the women of Old Town sponsored a party to honor a municipal councillor who they felt had represented their interests well. Present were women from lelemama, makungwi, and improvement associations, although the party was not called by a specific organization.

8

Women’s Collectivities: Makungwi Associations of makungwi, in contrast to lelemama or improvement groups, represent the intersection of sex and class categories in Mom-

basa. At the turn of the century the makungwi’s female puberty rites, called unyago, were at the center of a slave subculture. Unyago and makungwi are not indigenous to Mombasa.’ Rather, slaves from

central Bantu-speaking matrilineal societies continued the rites of

their foremothers when brought to a new urban, Muslim, and patrilineal milieu. Their class position was more determinant than ethnicity, for the makungwi formed multiethnic associations and diversified the content of the puberty rites by adding dances drawn from many cultures. The new social and cultural context of Mombasa affected the makungwi’s activities in other ways as well. Over the past decades the makungwi have come to focus more on gaining prestige for themselves and less on changing immature girls into adult women through ritual. Thus, the transformation of makungwi associations in Mombasa is an important example of the develop-

ment in response to a new environment of a subculture whose origins lay in slavery.

Slave Origins of Female Initiation Rites in Mombasa

The female puberty rites practiced in Mombasa have their origins in the rites of those matrilineal peoples of central Africa who were raided for slaves, particularly the Yao, Makua, “Nyasa,” and Ma1.In the past, freeborn Mombasans may have performed their own unyago at puberty. However, if they ever existed, such rituals no longer occur. 196

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 197 konde.” Linguistic evidence suggests this link. The terminolcgy em-

ployed in rites of central African societies is similar to the words found in Mombasa rites. For example, mwali, or a variation of the word (namwali, move), most commonly describes the young novice who is called mwari in Swahili, while versions of the term ““kungwi’”’ (nkong'u, namkungui, mhunga, kungwe) are found in many of these societies (see appendix). Where “mwali’’ or “kungwi’’ do not designate the personnel or the rites, another term, from the root kanga is

often employed. “Kanga” means guinea fowl, a common fertility symbol among these peoples. And indeed in Mombasa Nyakanga was , the mythical founder of the rites. (Vya- is a prefix for mother.) Taken alone the similarities of these terms with Swahili words employed in Mombasa would merely be evidence of a generalized east and central Bantu pattern of puberty rites, rather than an indication of Mombasa people borrowing from central African matrilineal people.* However, other evidence suggests that the Mombasa rites are not indigenous to freeborn coastal people. The ancestors of Mombasa’s freeborn population migrated from the north, not from the south where similarities in terminology and 2. The distribution of these rites throughout central Africa is surveyed in Audrey Richards, Chisungu, A Girls’ Initiation Ceremony among the Bemba of

Northern Rhodesia (London: Faber and Faber, 1956). Judith Brown finds more elaborate female puberty rites in matrilineal societies, particularly where

the woman continues to live near her matrikin. ‘‘A Cross Cultural Study of Female Initiation Rites,” American Anthropologist 65 (1963), 841.

3.T. O. Ranger has noted the wide distribution of the word “mwari” associated with female initiation rites or a high God. From this distribution he suggests an ancient proto-Bantu initiation complex. ““The Meaning of Mwari” Rhodesian History 5 (1974), 5-17. Even if such a complex existed in the past, the present Mombasa rites appear to derive from slave culture for three reasons. First, although freeborn Arab and Twelve Tribes families in the past used the word ‘“mwari’’ to describe a young virgin girl, there is no evidence that they performed a group ritual like the makungwi’s. Second, the scorn of freeborn

people toward the makungwi’s ritual further confirms the slave origins of - unyago. Third, a detailed description of the customs of Mombasa’s freeborn population regarding marriage, childbirth, and boys’ circumcision makes no mention of female puberty rituals. See Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, ““Notes on Customs,” pp. 17-35.

198 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI rituals are found (see map 4).* The Mijikenda, who migrated from

the same area as did the ancestors of the Twelve Tribes, are reported to have no female puberty rites.” Duruma and Giriama women participate in unyago in Mombasa, but the Duruma and Giriama who lived in the country have no such dances.® Similarly, although Digo and Taita women are included among Mombasa’s

makungwi, Mombasa rites do not include genital cutting, which is practiced among the Digo and Taita.’? The Kamba and Kikuyu, whose migrations several centuries past were linked to those of the northeastern Bantu speakers, do perform female initiation ceremonies. However, these rites include genital mutilation, and the terminology differs widely from Swahili words.®

Furthermore, specific articles and symbols link Mombasa rites to those of central Bantu-speaking matrilineal peoples. Drawings of

animal figures made with red, white, and black granules of flour 4.See Sacleux. None of the following words associated with female puberty rites have northern Swahili derivation: ‘“‘Nyakanga”’ is borrowed from

Yao; “mkinda,” a kind of unyago, is borrowed from Zigua, Bonde, and Ngwana (in Zaire); and “mkunga,” in Ngwana, is the head of a secret society of women, the term also refers to midwife. ‘“Kungwi’’ is found in all dialects and “unyago” in all except Gunia (the language spoken in islands north of Lamu). 5. Prins, Coastal Tribes, pp. 40-42.

6. Interviews with an anonymous Duruma and Asha binti Idi, a Giriama. Ludwig Krapf, who lived among the Mijkenda, identified kiniago as a rite in which “the Suahili cut the branch of a tree... .”’ Logically, if the Mijikenda performed unyago, Krapf would have included them as actors. 7. In discussing Digo initiation (Coastal Tribes, pp. 76-77), Prins does not mention female circumcision. However, it still continues according to Vicki

Schoen, who was doing fieldwork among the Digo in 1972-1973. For the Taita, see Marja-Liisa Swantz, Religious and Magical Rites of Bantu Women in Tanzania (Dar es Salaam: n.p., 1966), p. 116. 8. The Kikuyu call an uninitiated, uncircumcised girl kirigi; after the cere-

mony and operation she is kaitiru. John Middleton and Greet Kershaw, The Kikuyu and Kamba of Kenya, Ethnographic Survey of Africa, 5, rev. ed. (1953; London: International African Institute, 1965), p. 33. According to Jocelyn Murray, who has studied the spread of initiation rites throughout east and central Africa, the Kikuyu use —rua for “‘to circumcise.” The Kamba have the root —aika for “‘to circumcise,” while the word for an initiated girl is mwitu, related to the term in Middleton and Kershaw. Personal communication.

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Map 4. Slave-Yielding Societies in East and Central Africa That Hold Female Initiation Rites Note: Names of peoples are in italics.

200 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI are found particularly among Yao and Maravi peoples, two groups from whom many slaves were drawn.” In addition, Zaramo, Ndembu, and Bemba rites use white beads, as do Mombasa rituals.'° The makungwi themselves assert that several dances in Mombasa were learned from Tanzanian sources. Finally, the tribal origins of well-remembered makungwi indicate that the rites were brought by slaves from areas south of Mombasa. From Old Town and Kisauni, Nemsi (a Makua), Nyanya wa Kinyasa

(a Zigua), and Mishi wa Mtwana (an Ngindo, mtwana means male slave) all led groups of makungwi.'! Older makungwi from Majengo include many Zaramo women, as well as Manyema.‘* Furthermore, 9. See Hans Cory, African Figurines; Their Ceremonial Use in Puberty Rites in Tanganyika (London: Faber and Faber, 1956); G. M. Sanderson, “/nyago, The Picture Models of the Yao Initiation Ceremonies,’ Nysasland Journal 8, no. 2 (July 1955), 36-57; David Clement Scott, A Cyclopaedic Dictionary of the Mang’anja Language Spoken in British Central Africa (1892; reprint, London: Gregg International Press, 1968), under Zinyau; Martin Drourega, “Initiation of a Girl in the Acenga Tribe Katondwe Mission, Luengwa District, Northern Rhodesia,’ Anthropos 22 (1927), 621. For color symbolism, see

Richards, pp. 59, 80; M. Swantz, Religious and Magical, p. 132; Lyndon Harries, ““Makua Song Riddles from the Initiation Rites,” African Studies 1, no. 1 (March 1942), 34; Victor Turner, The Drums of Affliction: A Study of Religious Processes among the Ndembu of Zambia (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), pp. 17, 18, 56, 87, 199; Marja-Liisa Swantz, Ritual and Symbol in Transitional Zaramo Society, Studies Missionalis Upsaliensa 16 (Uppsala: C. W. K. Gleerup-Lund, 1970), 242, 245, 254; M. Ndaka, ““Makonde Religious Institutions and Rituals as Possible Advent Instruments of the Salvific Grace

of God,” dissertation, Faculty of Theology of the Urban University, Rome, 1971, pp. 35-36. I thank T. O. Ranger for allowing me to use his notes from this dissertation. 10. Richards, p. 72; Turner, Drums, p. 214;M. Swantz, Ritual and Symbol, pp. 266-67; see also T. O. Beidelmen, “‘Pig (Guluwe): An Essay on Ngulu Sexual Symbolism and Ceremony,” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 20 (1964), 376; Ndaka, p. 33. 11. Interviews with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. Mwana Isha binti Ali also stated that unyago was brought by Nyasa and Ngindo to Mombasa.

12. Interviews with Fatuma Bwantum. The Majengo groups include a broader variety of tribal backgrounds, including Ganda, Taita, Kamba, Gunia, Giriama, Manyema, Duruma. I assume, though I have no direct evidence, that many of these women joined makungwi associations after migrating to Mombasa, rather than bringing unyago with them.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 201 many of the Old Town makungwi were called makoroboi, converts

to Christianity from the Freretown Mission that was a refuge for escaped and ransomed slaves." Their collective performance is a distinguishing characteristic of these slave puberty rites in Mombasa. According to Arab and Twelve Tribes practice over at least the past eighty-five years, an individual woman (called somo, or rarely, kungwi) instructed a young girl in

sexual matters.'* In contrast, several slave women jointly participated in the unyago of one or more young female slaves. Unfortunately, this crucial aspect of puberty rites has only occasionally been noted. Visiting Lamu in 1913 Captain C. H. Stigand mentioned an

“Unyago school for the initiation of young girls on reaching puberty,” a custom he identified as non-Arab.’ Another example of collective performance of unyago is a Zanzibari dance titled Kunguwia that dates at least from the early twentieth century. The missionary and lexicographer Charles Sacleux described the dance as part of the celebration of a young girl leaving her kungwi. In performing kunguwia, women followed in a procession, dancing and carrying parasols for the girl’s coming-out ceremony.’© The most extensive historical description of female puberty rituals along the

the coast comes from Carl Velton’s observations near Bagamoyo

13. Interviews with Rehema Bashir and Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy. 14. Interviews with Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, and Fatuma Mohamed. Ingrams, p. 197.

15.P. 155. However, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, one of Mombasa’s leading makungwi, claims that there are no makungwi in Lamu; interview. Krapf’s and Sacleux’s dictionaries shed no light on the ethnicity, social status, or group activities of makungwi; see under “kungwi’ and “‘mwari’’ for Sacleux, under “kungui” and “‘muari” for Krapf. Richard Burton (1:420) mentions kungwi, but only in her role as individual instructor in menstrual and sexual matters. Prins mentions the presence of makungwi, particularly on the Tanzania coast, but provides no analysis; Swahili-Speaking Peoples, p. 108. Ann P. Caplan describes individual rites for girls, collective rites for boys in ‘“‘Boy’s

Circumcision and Girls’ Puberty Rites Among the Swahili on Mafia Island, Tanzania,” Africa 46, no. 1 (1976), 21-33. Unyago are disdained by those villagers who claim high status. 16. Under “‘kunguwia.”’

202 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI in 1893 to 1896.17 However, the area he describes shares these and other characteristics with neighboring matrilineal peoples such as the Zaramo. Since these female puberty rites are indigenous and not imported by slaves, they do not represent slave subculture as do the Mombasa rites. Both the slave origins of makungwi and the freeborn disgust for unyago is clear from the testimony of Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, a Three Tribes women.

The dance of the people without wamiji [i.e., those not freeborn] was the makungwi’s. The makungwi are the Nyasa... and nowadays other people practice it. Here in the past there were no makungwi [in today’s sense of the word]. The kungwi of the old days was an adult woman who “washed” a young girl when she reached puberty. A child who was known to be freeborn did not go to the makungwi; only the slaves were given

to makungwi. The Nyasa, Ngindo, Yao did it among themselves. Even some slaves here in town did not send their daughters to the makungwi, except the people of Changamwe, those Nyasa [i.e., the Changamwe’s slaves], they acted in this way. Here in town only a few slaves [went to the makungwi]. Many

did not like it, they were “‘washed”’ in the freeborn manner. Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano had nothing good to say about the makungwi’s unyago. Who would choose to send their daughter to be beaten, to roll around on the floor, to be harassed, and to run about

naked?'® Her statement also indicates how some of those slaves who lived in closer contact with freeborn people adopted the latter’s customs. Contemporary Female Life Cycle Rites in Mombasa

The relationship between a kungwi and her mwari is lifelong, expressed in ceremonies at two particular times—puberty and marriage.

17. Pp. 81-87. 18. Interview.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 203 The kungwi is responsible for her mwari’s behavior, particularly as a wife. Any complaints are reported to the kungwi for action. The re-

lationship can begin at any point, during childhood, at puberty, or today at marriage or even after a woman is married and has her own children. Often a kungwi will ask years before puberty to take as her mwari a niece or a neighbor’s child. An ngoma is held, during which the

kungwi washes the child and ties a string around her hips. The mother gives a pair of leso to the kungwi; other women close to the family contribute food to the celebration.'? An mwari should not have the same name as the kungwi’s mother, which perhaps reflects the tendency in this society to avoid associating sex and menstruation

with the mother-daughter relationship.” Even if a kungwi has chosen her mwari early, activities proceed as usual at the time of the girl’s first period.

At the first sign of menstruation (Kuvunga ungo)* the child is taken to her kungwi’s house where she is shown how to wash herself,

wear menstrual cloths, and wash these cloths without attracting attention to her condition. In addition to instruction in hygiene, she is taught unyago dances, if her kungwi wants her to appear clever later at the group ngoma. The mwari remains with her kungwi until

the period has finished, then returns home. For her next two or three menstrual periods she stays with her kungwi until she is found to understand and act appropriately.?* Customary fees (eda) for the service vary according to the status of the kungwi. One kungwi of relatively low status reports the fees to be sixty shillings ($8.50) and

three pairs of leso at the time of private instruction and the same again at the group ngoma. During instruction the parents also give

plates, bowls, two glasses, two cups for coffee, and a mat as

19. Interview with Mwana Isha binti Ali. 20. Ibid.

21.‘‘To break the joint,” from James L. Brain, “Symbolic Rebirth: The Mwali Rite among the Luguru of Eastern Tanzania,” Africa 48, no. 2 (1978), Ob. Interview with Mwana Isha binti Ali.

204 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES : MAKUNGWI equipment used by the kungwi to instruct and feed the mwari.” When a number of wari have been privately instructed and their

parents have collected sufficient money, a date is chosen for the sroup initiation ngoma. Ramadhan is avoided, either because of religious scruples or the difficulty of hard work during a period of fasting. Until the 1930s, unyago was held in Old Town houses with the windows boarded up tight so that no one could peer in and see

the secrets being enacted. The beating of the drums all night no doubt intrigued the neighbors. The Mombasa Municipal Board’s 1934 by-laws forbade “‘native dances,” including unyago, within the

municipality.2* Whether in response to legal prohibitions or to increasingly crowded conditions within Mombasa Island, unyago dances moved to the peri-urban areas of the mainland, where small farms are mixed with houses. One particular performance of the initiation rite is described here

briefly.25 The structure of the seven-day ngoma held outside of Mombasa was characteristic of the stages of other rites of passage.”° First the initiates were washed, to separate them from normal time

and normal life. After this rite of separation, the wari entered a period of liminality or marginality in which they experienced hardships and acted with extreme deference. During the six-day period of

liminality the wari performed dances described in detail below. Many dances were tests of skill; others related to domestic chores such as sweeping or preparing food; still others referred to planting. Finally the initiates were reintegrated into normal life, now as adult women. One fundamental purpose of the rites is to help young girls 23. Interview with anonymous Majengo informant. Mwana Isha binti Ali, of similar rank as the anonymous informant, listed the fee as 200 shillings (combining instruction and ngoma fees), a mat, four pairs of leso, a bedsheet, plates and bowls, and three cups; interview. 24.MMA 5/22. 25. For a detailed analysis, see Margaret Ann Strobel, ‘““Muslim Women in Mombasa, Kenya, 1890-1973,” dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles, 1975, appendix B.

26. The three-part character of rites of passage was first recognized by Arnold van Gennep in The Rites of Passage, trans. Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffe (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). Victor Turner (Drums of Affliction) and others have since elaborated the original model.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 205 to become women, as one of the songs articulates: ““My somo, where should I pass? The road to womanhood is filled with stones.”’?” However, the rites also represent slave subculture changing in response to a new environment.

Following a day of preparation (Wednesday), the makungwi gathered on the second day to draw a series of figures on the floor, using red, white, and black granules. This technique, found also in Yao initiation rites, may have been brought to Mombasa by Yao slaves. The figures included Nyakanga (the mythical founder of unyago), Ngariba (her husband), mwari, and various other objects and animals to which lessons are attached. For example, a lizard

reminds the initiate that she is not to overhear and gossip about other people’s conversations as does a lizard hanging on a wall; the secrets of unyago are to remain secrets. The spider is a lesson in good motherhood, for spiders take excellent care of their children. The

moon reminds the mwari of her monthly menstruation; a pond signifies the water needed to cleanse herself during those times. Other figures such as Knives, roosters, and drums represent the tools of the makungwi’s trade. The red, white, and black colors employed in these drawings are common throughout Bantu-speaking Africa in various rituals. In this case the colors represented menstrual blood, mucus, and pubic hairs. On the following day, none of the makungwi appeared, although a dance had been scheduled for that day.

The next dance, which occurred on the fourth day, involved various exercises with strands of white beads. White beads are part of female puberty rites in Zaramo, Makonde, Bemba, and Ndembu societies, where they represent children or the perpetuation of the matrilineage. No such meaning was attributed to the beads in Mombasa rites. Instead, it was explained that Nyakanga liked to decorate herself with beads. The makungwi and wari performed a dance called ngondo on the following day. The word “‘ngondo”’ is derived from the Yao word for war, yet another explicit link between the Mombasa rites and those 27. ‘“Somo yangu nipitepi ee; njia ya ukenge, njia ya ukenge ina mawe.”’

206 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI of the central African peoples.”* In this dance the wari lifted coconuts

with their teeth from a boiling cauldron of water. The hardship of the exercise fits the title, suggested one of the leading makungwi. As a final part of this dance, each mwari pledged to remain a virgin until marriage, a virtue that her kungwi was responsible to guard.

On the sixth day the mbura tree dance was performed. The makungwi whitened a branch of an mbura tree, using flour or chalk, and festooned the branch with white beads. Each mwari intertwined a pair of the strands of beads and pulled them off the tree, using only her mouth. An identical dance is reported in Bemba female puberty

rituals.2? However, the immediate source of this dance was the island of Pemba, not Bembaland.

Kupima pembe, the chain dance, was the final daytime dance of the week-long ngoma. This dance, which strongly suggests the link between Mombasa rites and slave-yielding societies, was acquired from makungwi along the Tanzanian coast. “Kupima pembe” means to measure ivory, the commodity slaves carried on their backs to the coast. In this ngoma each mwari danced holding a lightweight, sevenfoot chain. After dancing awhile, the mwari shouted to the remaining wari “I am measuring out ivory; ivory is not free.” °° The next mwari then shouted a bid of several thousand shillings and took the chain. On the evening of the seventh day the makungwi and wari stayed up all night long singing and dancing. At dawn the wari were taken outside into the bush in the final dance and coming-out celebration. Changes in Mombasa Makungwi Activities

The rites presently performed in Mombasa are the cumulative result of decades of change. Each nyakanga, as the leader of a group of makungwi, could add and delete dances from the repertoire. The

method by which Ma Sheha wa Sulimani’s kungwi acquired the chain dance and Ma Sheha herself acquired the mbura tree dance is 28. Sacleux, under “ngondo”; G. M. Sanderson, A Dictionary of the Yao Language (Zomba, Nyasaland [Malawi]: Government Printer, c. 1954), under “ngondo.” 29. Richards, p. 72. 30. “‘Napima pembe;” “Pembe si bure!’’

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 207 typical. If a nyakanga liked a particular dance she could, after paying an appropriate fee, incorporate that dance into her own ngoma. And she could sell the ‘‘copyright’”’ to another group, as the Old Town

makungwi sold the mbura tree and chain dances to the Majengo makungwi.*! This procedure indicates the presence of a communica-

tions network between groups of makungwi through which styles and ideas could pass.°? Furthermore, a proprietary attitude is expressed, not as a recent phenomenon, but extending back at least a generation before the recent nyakanga’s term. The secrets (mizungu)

of the rites were not so secret that they could not be shared, but they had to be compensated for. Whether in the dislocations of the slave trade or in the recombining of people in urban, patrilineal Mombasa, the primary purpose

and meaning of the rituals has shifted away from puberty and maturation to the acquisition of prestige for adult women. This is evident from conversations and observations of the puberty rites as well as an analysis of the changing function of the makungwi’s associ-

ations. First, enthusiasm is declining for unyago, as opposed to the wedding dances described in chapter 1. As indicated earlier, none of the makungwi appeared for Friday’s ngoma. They had grumbled on Thursday, saying that bus fare was expensive and everyone was busy.

Ma Sheha was Sulimani and Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, two leaders of

the group, suspected that the others had all agreed to stay away while they were waiting for the bus back to Mombasa Island. The

two leaders attributed the poor attendance at the other unyago dances to mourning. Many deaths had occurred recently, and close family members do not attend celebrations for three months after a death. However, in another tone Ma Mishi said that dances were

longer in the past and people used to turn out in much greater numbers.*?

Moreover, the makungwi appear not to perceive the symbolism of 31. Interview with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla.

32. T. O. Ranger discusses the presence of communication networks for the spread of ideas and styles in ‘““The Movement of Ideas, 1850-1939,” in A History of Tanzania, ed. 1. N. Kimambo and A. J. Temu (Nairobi: East Africa Publishing House, 1969), pp. 161-88, and in Dance. 33. Interview.

208 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI their rites in very full and rich terms. During the ritual of the second day, only one of the makungwi (excluding the leaders) could explain

the designs drawn on the floor. Even Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, the second in command, had no elaborate or clear explanation of the symbolism of the various dances or designs. Why did they dance with beads? Because ““Nyakanga likes beads.’’ What was the significance of the coconut dance, ngondo? “It’s war, isn’t it?”” Ma Mishi

replied. When asked about the meaning and significance of the dances, Ma Mishi insisted that to be a kungwi one needed secrets.

Her daughter stressed that the wari had to pay to be taught each

dance.

The significance of the dances seems to be that each secret gained,

each dance performed, represented increased prestige and status differentiation. The meaning lies not primarily in what is danced or what is known but rather in the acquisition of the right to dance or to know, in having secrets that others do not share. As one of their

songs indicates, the makungwi are proud of possessing a much sought after body of knowledge: “‘We cry for unyago, we are stingy

with it.”

This trend in the perception, meaning, and purpose of ritual corresponds to that observed elsewhere. Max Gluckman suggests that

tribal societies have more “ritualization” than more stratified societies because they have a greater need to differentiate social roles.*° Moreover, he finds rites of passage ‘‘‘incompatible’ with the

structure of modern urban life... . This kind of ceremony does not seem to evolve in an urban situation. . . . [When initiations exist they] mark changes of status, but they do not involve any ideas that the performing of prescribed actions by appropriately related persons will mystically affect the well-being of the initiands.’’>”

A difference in the expressed purpose of Mombasa and Bemba puberty rites confirms Gluckman’s observation. Audrey Richards 34. Interview with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla and Mwana Halima. 35. “Unyago twaulilia; unyago twauna choyo.”’ 36. “Les Rites de Passage,” in Essays on the Ritual of Social Relations, ed.

Max Gluckman (Manchester, England: Manchester University Press, 1962), pp. 24-25. 37. Ibid., p. 37.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 209 reports that “‘the women in charge of [the Bemba] ceremony were convinced that they were causing supernatural changes to take place in the girls under their care. . . .’°® Bemba women claimed that the rites were intended to “make [the girl] a woman as we are.””°? In contrast, the Mombasa makungwi express little mystical ar magical intent. Rather, the rites are expected to instill good manners in the adolescent through fear;a girl must fear her kungwi.*° The makungwi

emphasize their reputation for fierceness. As one of their songs warns, “Do not judge them by their smiling, the makungwi are not good people.”*! Although a kungwi helps her mwari at childbirth and presumably on other occasions, the benevolent aspects of the relationship are generally understated. When asked whether a kungwi

would come to the assistance of her mwari if the latter was beaten by her husband, Ma Iko, one of the leaders, replied that she would beat the mwari herself if the house had not been properly cleaned. She then reluctantly admitted that she would support the mwari if her husband was unfair. Thus, the Mombasa makungwi emphasize teaching good behavior through fear, rather than magically transforming an immature girl into a mature woman. Furthermore, Marja-Liisa Swantz views the narrowing meaning of color symbolism as a sign of social change. She suggests that when social and moral values are disturbed, the colors’ symbolic meanings

no longer adhere to ritual actions. The rituals continue, but the symbols come to represent biological processes rather than moral or social principles.*? In Mombasa this is now the case. White, red, and

black stand for mucus, blood, and pubic hair, in contrast to the multivalent or multifocal symbols found, for example, in Ndembu society.7 By Swantz’s argument, this should be the case, resulting from the vastly changing environments of generations of makungwi. To begin with, in an agricultural village the emphasis on fertility in 38. P. 125. 39. P. 120. 40. Interview with Ma Iko.

41. Recorded 2.3.73; “Musiwaone kucheka, makungwi si watu wema.”’ Brain sees a social control function in the Luguru female initiation rite, ‘Symbolic Rebirth,” pp. 176, 185-86. 42. Ritual and Symbol, p. 255. 43. Turner, Drums, pp. 17-19, passim.

210 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI puberty rites pertains to crops as well as human beings, for livelihood depends on the fertility of the soil. In an urban environment this facet of the rites is greatly diminished, although seven grains remain a part of one Mombasa ritual. Moreover, the matrilineal societies’ rites discussed earlier stress not only the physical and behavioral aspects of becoming a woman, but also the principles of matriliny. For example, during Makonde

chiputu rituals the young girls are shown clan relationships and hierarchies by using a particular plant.” Ndembu female puberty rituals involving the mudyi tree are said to unify the women and to indicate the dominance of matriliny in the face of virilocal residence patterns.*® Transferred by slaves from their matrilineal societies to Mombasa, the puberty rites were performed in a patrilineal context, which eliminated an entire network of meanings and associations based on matriliny.

The shift from a tribal-village to a multiethnic, urban one has

greatly affected the rites. Clearly, that portion of the rites which dealt with tribal history or custom withered away when the rites were performed by women from many different groups who had been uprooted by the slave trade and deposited in Mombasa.

In collecting a heterogenous repertoire, the makungwi seem to have retained little if any of the original meaning of the dances. Furtherfore, in an urban environment, the makungwi formed associations. Such an organizational form for puberty rites makes little sense in a village. There, upon maturing, every woman has legitimate access to the rites. The adult women form a group. But in Mombasa slave women apparently felt the need to establish groups and boundaries. It became important not only to conduct

rites at puberty, but also to form social networks and to create sources of prestige. Furthermore, in forming associations, the makungwi have adopted the coastal pattern of competition between rivals. The Old Town makungwi consider several Majengo groups to be special rivals. At one time they cooperated (when Old Town sold the two dances to Majengo), but they have become antagonists in 44. Ndaka, pp. 34-35. 45. Turner, Drums, p. 264.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 211 the last few years. Makungwi groups, like lelemama associations, compete to build the greatest reputation from their dances, which they now perform for nonmembers. Dress and stylishness are important criteria. Ma Mishi wa Abdalla claims that the Majengo groups perform kishenzi (in an uncivilized manner) because they dance at weddings wearing only two leso, not a European-style dress covered by leso.*° The Old Town makungwi also express pride

in the red sashes that are a part of their costume for one of the wedding dances. Indeed, my joining the Old Town makungwi increased their prestige, because Majengo could not boast a ‘“European” dancing at their weddings.

Although the ritual aspects of the puberty rites appear to be declining, the makungwi’s associations are thriving in Mombasa. People comment that more than ever women are joining makungwi groups. Their prosperity indicates how successfully the makungwi have adapted to their urban environment by offering a means of achieving prestige and high status.*” In this respect, it is significant that the makungwi’s ascendancy in wedding dances corresponded with the decline after World War II of lelemama associations, which

filled similar needs. |

The Structure of the Makungwi Associations

Makungwi groups provide some women of low social status with the opportunity to acquire prestige. Increasingly, prestige is accorded not only by other makungwi but by outsiders as well. This aspect of makungwi associations, the provision of prestigious roles and hierarchical statuses for women, has been noted in other studies of rites of passage but not thoroughly analyzed. For example, without elaborating on the structure of the group of women

46. Interview.

47. Richards described several cases where puberty rites have continued because of “secondary motives.” For example among the Mende of Sierra Leone, despite people’s “sophistication” and contact with the missions, the rites continue. The chiefs receive a large income from girls’ rites, and ‘‘this is acknowledged to be one of the reasons why [they] have not only not died out, but [have] even increased in influence” (p. 134).

212 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI specialists, Richards remarks that “‘more rites express the hierarchy of rank than any other form of symbolic behavior in the chisungu [girls’ rites] .’*® Though this association of women is important in a society where “the pivotal relationships . . . are those based on the woman and not on the man,’*? women’s access to roles of power and prestige can be even more significant in a male-dominated and formerly slave-based society such as Mombasa.

Makungwi within a group are arranged in a hierarchy of named ranks—mwari, mkurungwa, kungwi, and nyakanga. Movement from

one rank to another, which depends on one’s financial resources, is marked by a particular ceremony. In addition to these four ranks there are smaller activities and ceremonies that a woman may perform which raise her prestige without transferring her to the next highest rank. In the initiation and wedding dances these ranks and levels are noted by the assignment of different tasks to people of different rank.

The lowest rank is that of mwari, the initiate. When a woman acquires her own mwari she enters the rank of mkurungwa.° Just as becoming an mwari is marked by payment of a fee to one’s kungwi, so entering the position of mkurungwa entails a payment. The fee from one’s first mwari is given in total to one’s own kungwi to “ransom” or “‘redeem” oneself (kujikomboa).*!

After mkurungwa, a woman enters the rank of kungwi. The double use of this term is confusing—“‘kungwi” as a synonym for “somo,” and “‘kungwi” asa specific rank, but “kungwi” is not often used as a title of rank. A woman cannot earn the rank of kungwi until her own kungwi has died.**_ The payment is called kulia (to 48.P.131. 49.P. 134. 50. From the same root as kungwi. 51. Interviews with Mwana Isha binti Ali, anonymous. 52. Interview with Fatuma Bwantum. Opinions vary regarding the number

of ranks. An anonymous Majengo informant indicates mwari, kungwi, and nyakanga; interview. The late Ma Sheha wa Sulimani, at that time the head of the Old Town makungwi, referred to mwari, mkurungwa, and nyakanga; interview. However, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla distinguishes kungwi as a rank between mkurungwa and nyakanga, and describes a specific ceremony for entering the rank; interview. For this reason I have chosen her interpretation.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 213 cry out, to mourn) and consists of a feast and twenty-four pairs of leso, which are shared among those of kungwi rank 4n her group and other cooperating groups in Mombasa. A separate ceremony, kushambulia pamba,™ is held in honor of the death of one’s kungwi, whenever funds are available. This ceremony is much less expensive and does not raise one’s rank. The fee of twenty-four shillings and two pairs of leso is given to the leader, who divides it among the members. The highest rank is that of nyakanga. At the time of this research there were three nyakanga in the Old Town group: Ma Sheha wa Sulimani, in her eighties (now deceased); Ma Mishi wa Abadalla, in her fifties; and Ma Tufaa, also in her eighties. The lines of authority did not completely follow the ranks, however. Ma Sheha and Ma Mishi were first and second in command, but Ma Iko was third. Although not a nyakanga, she has much power in the group, more than Ma

Tufaa, because of her energy and forceful character. The fee to become nyakanga in the ceremony kutandika utango (to spread out

the collection) is quite large.“ One must hold a feast and give twelve shillings, perfume (marashi), and one pair of leso to each nyakanga in Mombasa. They in return give thirty shillings, called uji (porridge), acknowledging one’s new rank.*>

Continuity is important within the groups, and there are principles

of succession, although these are not necessarily followed in all cases. The first mwari of the nyakanga succeeds upon the nyakanga’s death, or perhaps takes over important duties before.*° The history

of the Old Town group is instructive at this point. The earliest remembered nyakanga of the Old Town groups was the somo of Bahati. Bahati took over the group and was followed by Nemsi, a Makua woman born in the Christian settlement at Kisauni on the

Mombasa mainland. Nemsi reportedly bore thirty-one children; 53. Kushambulia means to attack, or to throw oneself; Kupamba means to prepare a corpse for burial by filling the orifices with cotton, by the Muslim custom; pamba is cotton. The phrase is an ambiguous reference to the death of one’s kungwi. 54. Uchango, a collection, becomes utango in Mombasa’s dialect. 55. Interview with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla. 56. Ibid.

214 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI the birth of the first, out of wedlock, caused her to be driven from the church. Nemsi’s first mwari had died by the time of Nemsi’s death. For this reason Momo wa Mohamadi, the most senior mwari,

took over.°? Momo’s first mwari, Mariamu Athmani should have succeeded as leader, but because she was quite young, Ma Mishi and Ma Iko became the leaders. Ma Mishi and Ma Iko are not the wari of

Momo, but they are the daughters of Nemsi, so continuity was achieved by blood if not by strict rules of succession.*® At about this time Ma Sheha wa Sulimani’s group deserted her under unclear circumstances, and she was invited to take over as senior nyakanga of

the Old Town group, putting Ma Mishi and Ma Iko then as second and third in command.*? Ma Sheha was not related by blood to Nemsi; however, her kungwi Nyanya wa Kinyasa cooperated with Nemsi’s group earlier. When Ma Sheha and Ma Mishi both have died, Mariamu Athmani (Momo’s first mwari) is scheduled to take over as chief nyakanga, along with Ma Iko.™ One’s legitimacy as head of a group is established when other nya-

kanga in Mombasa receive their fee. Stories abound about women such as Nyanya Majawangu, a well-known kungwi around Old Town,

who began initiating wari, but who was not accepted as a proper kungwi by the others because she never was installed by them.® Similarly, Mwana Mtembwe and Mwana Mgoi, the two famous Manyema women, also set themselves up without paying local makunegwi the installation fee.°* Installation as leader of a group is distinct from the ceremony advancing one to the rank of nyakanga. For installation, a fee of nine shillings and one pair of leso is given to the nyakanga of each cooperating group. Certain groups in Mombasa continue informally, presumably with lower prestige in makungwi circles because the head does not have enough money to be installed by other nyakanga.® 57. Interviews with Ma Mishi wa Abadalla, Fatuma Bwantum. 58. Interview with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla. 59. Interview with Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. 60. Interview with Ma Mishi wa Abdalla. 61. Ibid. 62. Ibid. 63. Ibid.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 215 In addition to the named ranks of mwari, mkurungwa, kungwi, and nyakanga, there are many other minor differentiations. For example, after paying prescribed fees a girl or woman is allowed to wear more prestigious clothing. The first stage (mnandi), in which the mwari wears only a diaperlike cloth, is followed by kileso, in which the mwari wears a triangular shaped cloth over her breasts. Finally, one is allowed to wear two leso.™

Makungwi are taught the mizungu, or secrets of the trade, on special trips to areas where necessary trees or medicines are found.

Each trip and the knowledge imparted there has its own fee, although having made the trip confers no outward sign of higher status within the group. None of these trips was made while I was

conducting fieldwork, which may be another indication of the decline in the secret, initiation-rite aspects of ukungwi. The last category of differentiation involves payment for certain privileges. To beat the drums used at unyago and wedding dances,

women pay twelve shillings and one pair of leso to the nyakanga, who distributes them in rotation to those who have already paid that fee.© To be allowed to smoke in front of one’s kungwi costs twelve shillings and after being initiated one cannot speak to one’s kungwi before giving her four shillings.” These data reveal that women are given many opportunities to distinguish themselves from other women, sometimes receiving a new rank, sometimes just a boost in prestige. Also, because each differen-

tiation carries a fee, women must be able to pay a considerable amount of money to acquire great prestige. Supporters and oppo64. Cf. M. Swantz, Ritual and Symbol, p. 128, about mnandi. During Zaramo seclusion the mwalihas two guardians, a kungwi and an mnandi. Whether

the similarity in words has any significance I cannot say. The information about kileso came from an anonymous interview. The fee for kileso is twelve shillings, two cloths, and a pair of leso. In the kileso ceremony that I observed, the mwari sat on an mkurungwa’s lap while other women opened and waved a leso over the two, singing “vaa Kileso’’ (‘wear the small leso’’). When it had been fastened, the mwari climbed onto a high stool and danced kiuno while pennies were placed in her mouth. The two-leso stage was described in interviews with Mwana Isha binti Ali, anonymous. The fee for two leso is twenty

shillings and one pair of leso.

65. See Strobel, ““Muslim Women,’ appendix B. 66. Interview with Ma Sheha wa Sulimani. 67. Interviews with Mwana Isha binti Ali and Rehema Bashir.

216 WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI nents of makungwi remark about the monetary aspects of the makungwi’s activities. “It is like business (biashara),” they say. Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, who expressed her disdain for unyago, sees the financial aspects of ukungwi as a further sign of its shamefulness: “Nowadays people buy makungwi, who want a pot full of money. If a person’s daughter gets married, the makungwi want more money. ... Those women nowadays are hungry [greedy], they are not [well-bred] people.”® To move through the various ranks, one must pay large sums of money. The total cost of the mizungu trips alone comes to approximately 700 shillings, or $100; to perform kushambulia pamba when one’s kungwi dies is about $15; the kulia ceremony to reach kungwi rank would cost $100; and that of kutandika utango to become nyakanga would be at least $100, even allowing for the money that one is given in return. Although the people at the top have spent a lot of money to get there, at each stage upward they receive a larger share of whatever fee the group collects. Within a group of makungwi, money circulates, but seems to concentrate in the hands of those

already on top. For those few women, the dances can become a significant source of income.

When prestige became more important than ritual in unyago or whether money is a greater concern now than in the past cannot be identified precisely. But the emphasis of makungwi associations today focuses on wedding performances rather than unyago. Moreover, much of the increase in membership comes from women both of slave and free ancestry who join as adults for the fun and prestige of dancing at weddings.” The interest of women of free ancestry in makungwi associations marks a significant change in the collective social status of the makungwi and in the class basis of the associations. Once a slave subculture, the makungwi groups have become one component of the various activities of many different Muslim women. In this transformation, much of the original significance of 68. Interview.

69. Interview with Fatma Saidi, who claimed that women today are not ashamed to enter the associations because they do not have to go through the seven-day initiation.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVITIES: MAKUNGWI 217 the female puberty rites has faded. Thus the associations whose initial function was to provide female slaves with a network of women to replace female kin in the performance of essential lifecycle rituals now offer entertainment and prestige to the descendants of slaves and freeborn people alike.

9 Sex, Class, and Ethnicity The period from 1890 to 1975 covers the introduction, the experience, and the legacy of colonialism in Mombasa. As Kenya’s coast came under direct rule by the British in 1895, the town expanded from a Slave-based satellite in Zanzibar’s commercial network to the

major port in east Africa. The shift offered wage labor to large numbers of males, but denied most women their former roles in production and excluded them from direct participation in the new wage labor. Not only were port workers exclusively male, by World War I men took over what had been the female domain of domestic service.

Related to the direct economic effects of colonialism was its ideological impact. The British, in abolishing slavery, undercut the economic base of the non-Asian upper class. In establishing British rule, they destroyed local sovereignty. It is not surprising, then, that the male elders of Mombasa society gradually lost control of their dependents—children, wives, and clients. This loss of control was expressed through struggles between male leaders and the British administration over the intrusion of Western values and concepts such as female education or romantic love. British administrators and Christian missionaries had little respect for what they viewed as a backward Muslim community’s attitudes toward women. Muslim elders introduced limited female education in the 1930s to prevent the colonial administration from forcing it on the community in a less acceptable form. Twenty years later the struggle continued as the male leaders debated whether or not Muslim women should be

allowed to attend the (Western) cinema. Today, caught between economic need and religious principle, Muslim families must decide

whether to allow their daughters to work as secretaries in offices 218

SEX, CLASS, AND ETHNICITY 219

decay. ,

where they will mix with men. Throughout the past decades, the behavior and position of women has been one manifestation, in the eyes of the Muslim community, of cultural imperialism and spiritual

The ideological effects of the introduction of secular education,

mass media such as film, and limited wage labor for women have, to a certain extent, been progressive. By broadening women’s experiences, such changes have undermined the aspects of Muslim culture

that confined women and fostered their dependence on men. Yet, this progress has been circumscribed by the social relations and values rooted in colonialism and neocolonialism. One important result of secular education for women has been the graduation of a cohort of educated women who have become involved in the Muslim Women’s Institute and the Muslim Women’s Cultural Association, whose interests moved beyond entertainment to community issues. However, these organizations have not generated a significant critique of their own society’s attitudes toward sexual inequality or class

stratification. Second, the films that triggered debates in the 1950s offered a different message from Mwana Kupona’s call for female obedience and deference. But the models provided by Ava Gardner and Clark Gable and their successors advance a new form of subordination in exchange for glamor. Similarly, offering some alternative to dependence on men, secretarial jobs have drawn Muslim

women out of the home into the public sphere avoided by their mothers. However, once there they find sexual inequality in the job market, wage discrimination, and other facets of what Zillah Eisenstein has termed “capitalist patriarchy.” Advances have been made, but with limits. Despite the strength of the cultural attack on Muslim values, the

norm for the social segregation of the sexes retained much of its vitality and fostered a female subculture that manifested the class and ethnic complexities of Mombasa society. Of the various components of this subculture, lelemama associations joined members of slave and freeborn ancestry most extensively. Originally performed by slaves brought to Mombasa, puberty rituals represent a residue of a slave female subculture, having been transformed after decades

of performance in urban Muslim society to a means for gaining

220 SEX, CLASS, AND ETHNICITY prestige among lower-class women. Viewed historically, women’s wedding dances reflect a gradual social acceptance of people of slave

ancestry into freeborn society decades after abolition and attest to the important role of women in the evolution of a Swahili culture diverse in terms of ethnicity and class. Still, class differences have persisted within the female subculture. In the 1950s women predominantly from the upper class combined

British models and Islamic aims to form institutes and associations that would equip them with skills they perceived to be essential for living in a transformed Mombasa. They felt a need to mix with men and women from other ethnic groups, to educate themselves and their children in religion and English literacy alike, and to represent their interests in a limited way in the political jostling that preceded Kenya’s independence. Class, ethnicity ,and sex all influenced a woman’s position, options,

behavior, and consciousness. The complex interaction of these factors over time prevented women from identifying exclusively with any particular division and organizing accordingly.

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Persons Interviewed All interviews were conducted in Mombasa (and Nairobi, as noted), October 1972 to August 1973, July and August 1975. Alphabetized by first name or term of address as used in the notes.

Aisha Shallo Khadija Bunu

Alwiya Mohamed Khuleta Said Muhashamy Alya Namaan—formerly Mus- MHafswa Baghozy

lim’s Cultural Association Huda binti Sheik Maamun Anonymous—a Majengo kungwi Ma Iko—Old Town kungwi

Asha binti Idi Ma Mishi wa Abdalla—Old Town Asha binti Khamis bin Moham- kungwi, Banu Saada | med Mutwafy—Ibinaal Watan, Ma Mma—Old Town kungwi,

Banu Saada Banu Saada

Aziza Omar Abeidi Ma Sheba—Old Town kungwi, Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano— Banu Saada

Kilungu Ma Sheha wa Sulimani—Old

Bi Momo Town kungwi, Seifu, Land

Bi Mskiti—Old Town kungwi Rova

Bi Zuwena Mariam Mahmoud-—interviewed Fatma Mahmoud—interviewed in in Nairobi

Nairobi Mohamed Ali Mirza

Fatma Mohamed (Somoibwana) Mohamed Kassim Mazrui—form-

Fatma Saidi—Ibinaal Watan er chief kadhi of Kenya Fatuma binti Ali Jeneby—Mus- Mohamed Suleiman Mazrui(Abu-

lim Women’s Institute suleiman)—assistant to kadhi

Fatuma binti Ali Said Man- Mwana Furaha binti Khalfani— dhry—Muslim Women’s Insti- Banu Saada

tute Mwana Halima Fatuma Bwantum—Majengo Mwana Isha binti Ali—Old Town

kungwi kungwi (interviewed Mombasa

Fatuma Mohamed—Banu Saada, and Nairobi) Muslim Women’s Cultural As- Nuri Fakirmohamed |

sociation Ramla binti Sheik Maamun 225

226 PERSONS INTERVIEWED Rehema Bashir Swafiya Muhashamy — Muslim

Rukiya Jalalkhan Women’s Institute

Saggaf Alawy-—disciple of Mo- Zainab binti Adam Musa—teach-

hamed Abdallah Ghazali er at Ghazali Muslim School, Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy— wife of Mohamed Abdallah

Ibinaal Watan, Muslim Wo- Ghazali

men’s Institute Zainab Jama Issa—formerly Mus-

Sharifa Abdalla lim Women’s Institute

Sulafa Mazrui—Muslim Women’s Zubeida Salim—Ibinaal Watan Institute Note: Fatma Hussein provided me with information from her interviews with Fatma Dabi and Nassir Mohamed Mazrui.

Bibliography I have not found an entirely satisfactory way of alphabetizing Muslim names. In the following bibliography, most Muslim authors of books in English are listed under their last name, which is how the reader is most likely to find them in a card catalog. Some Muslim authors in English whose last name is not so clearly a surname in the English manner and those who write in Swahili are alphabetized by their first names. Archives GOVERNMENT

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BLANK PAGE

Index

Abolition, 44, 53-54, 218; effectsof, Arabs, 22, 39, 40, 108, 143; social

1, 127-28, 131-32, 148-49; dates position of, 1, 8, 39-40; and lifeof, 32; need for secular education cycle rituals, 17, 19, 169, 210. See

following, 102 also Hadrami Arabs; Omani Arabs

Abusuleiman, 111, 118-20 Arab School Parents’ Association,

Adultery, 125 111 Advice of Mwana Kupona upon the Arab Women’s Association, 184

Wifely Duty, 84 Arab Women’s Cultural Association,

Africans, 14, 32, 36, 39,41, 167,172. 182-88 passim. See also Muslim See also Nine Tribes: Three Tribes: Women’s Cultural Association Twelves Tribes; and other ethnic Arab Women’s Institute, 182-92 pas-

groups sim. See also Muslim Women’s

Afro-Arab Youth League, 192 Institute

Afro-Asian Association, 40, 96, 115 Arinoti Band, 163 Agriculture, 30-32;and women,131- Asians, 4n5, 182, 184, 192-93. See

32,152 also Indians

Ahmad bin Sheik, 49 Assimilation, 12, 19, 202, 220 Ahmadiyya, 77

Alamase, 72 Bagamoyo, 77~78, 180, 201-02

Al-Amin bin Aly Mazrui, 98, 103, Bahati, 213 118, 168; on male-female relations, Bahia Ali, 108

55, 104; essays on community Bajuni, 143 values, 97; on European influence, Bakari Mohamed bin Juma Mutwafy,

105, 125, 126; on education, 105- 160 06; and prostitution, 142; criticizes Baluchis, 27-28, 108; residence in lavish celebrations, 169; criticizes Old Town, 37; economic activity

challenges to purdah, 171-72 of, 69; in associations, 160, 186

Ali bin Namaan, 179, 191 Banadir coast, 22

Ali bin Salehe, 47 Bands, 20, 157-60 Ali bin Salim Bu Saidi, 40, 103 Banu Saada, 166-79 passim Al-Islah, 97,119 Beech, Mervyn, 131

Arab Association, 40, 96 Bemba, 200, 205, 206, 208-09 Arab Boys’ School, 102, 108 Beni, 157-60 Arab Girls’ School, Mombasa, 109- Bijuma binti Khamis, 62

13, 116, 124 Bi Kaje binti Mwenye Matano, 59,

Arab Girls’ School, Zanzibar, 106- 62-63, 158, 202, 216

07,113 Binti Seleman bin Jabir, 59

Arabic language, 45,102,103,107-08 Binti Sheik bin Ahmed El Malindi, 61 | 249

250 INDEX Bi Salima binti Masudi Al-Hasibi, 63, and female economic activity, 148-

94 50; and patriarchy, 150. See also

Bi Uba, 184-85 Cultural imperialism; European Bridewealth, 47, 49, 88, 133 values

Britain, 32. See also Colonialism; Communal celebrations, 76, 78, 80-

European values 84, 165, 169

Buibui, 74-75, 123-25, 170 Communal groupings, 45

Burton, Richard, 87-88 Competition, 37, 166, 171-73, 179Bu Saidi, 25-33 passim 80, 210; with Asian women, 182, 184, 187-88

Capitalism, 150-55 Concubinage, 19, 27, 49-53 passim

Carrier Corps, 129 Cooper, Frederick, 46, 99

Christianity, 14, 201, 213, 218; Cultural imperialism, 118-23, 219 arrival of missionaries, 32; Church Culture, 3, 202, 218; elite’s loss of Missionary Society, 33; Christians’ hegemony, 34, 36; slave subculture,

residence, 37; on coast, 42; mis- 100, 196, 205, 216; female subsions and female education, 104- culture, 156, 196, 219. See also

05 Assimilation; Swahili culture

Church Missionary Society (CMS), Currency, 7 33,136,171, 201

Cinema, 120-21 Dance, 12-13. See also Lelemama; Class differences, 99-100, 219-20; Unyago among women, 1, 85-86, 94,126, Dares Salaam, 145, 163 149-50, 219-20; in life-cycle rit- Darsudi, 162 uals, 10, 11; and women’s associa- Darweshi, 161

tions, 14, 16, 156, 170, 196; and Dickson, Ainsworth, 96 ,

male dominance, 55; and purdah, Digo, 198 74-76; and instability of marriage, Divorce, 88, 141; women’s and men’s

92-93; in education, 102. See also grounds for, 57-58, 189-90; linked

Elite to sexual equality, 118-25 passim

Cloves, 27 130 Coast, 22 Domestic relations, 19, 50, 55, 84Clerical work, 116-17, 126, 218-19 Domestic and Hotel Workers’ Union,

Coast (lelemama association), 181 93 passim, 100. See also Prostitu-

Coast Arab Association, 40 tion

Coast People’s Party, 194 Domestic service, 19, 30, 47, 128Colonialism, 218-19; differential 29,218 effect on women and men, 1;racial Double day, 153-54 categories, 3, 37-41; and women’s Dressmaking, 115 associations, 16, 164-65, 173,184; Dundas, C.C., 92

established in Kenya, 22, 33-42; Duruma,198 erodes male elites’ control, 34, 94;

and women’s appeals, 59-62; East Africa Protectorate, 33, 59 British economic policy, 63, 126; Economy, 126, 131

INDEX 251 Education, 41,111, 188-89, 194 Freretown, 33, 136, 201. See also

Education, religious, 101-02 Christianity Education, secular, 101, 110, 156, Fujo,181 218; attitudes toward female, 102- Funerals, 81

06, 109, 114; example of Arab Girls’ School in Zanzibar, 103-06; Galla, 30

extent of, 106, 112-13 Ganda, 143

Education Committee of the East Ghana, 151

Africa Protectorate, 102 Ghaya binti Mohamed bin Khamis

Egypt, 171, 187 Mandri, 72-73

Eisenstein, Zillah, 219 Ghazali. See Mohamed Abdallah

Elite, 1-2, 34, 36,177, 218 Ghazali

Emergency (Mau Mau), 41 Ghazali Private Muslim School, 108 Employment, female, 30, 113, 114- Giriama, 198

15, 122, 126-50 Girl Guides, 110

Ethnicity: and women’s associations, Gluckman, Max, 208

1, 156, 159, 183, 186, 195, 196, Gray, Sylvia, 109-12, 186 219; and weddings, 8, 10, 20; con- Guardian, 56-57 flict, 36, 41; and colonial racial Guillain, C., 82, 87-88 categories, 37-41; ethnic groups defined, 45; and economic activity, Habib Saleh (Saleh bin Alawi Jamalil),

69-72; intertwined with women’s 77

rights, 191~93 Hadramawt, 13, 22, 28, 74 European values, 103-05, 112, 172, Hadrami Arabs: and associations, 14,

187, 211; and improvement associ- 161, 186; and ethnicity, 19, 45; ations, 156, 183-84, 220. See also migration to Mombasa, 25-28, 35;

Cultural imperialism economic activity of, 69, 135

Haidar bin Mohamed Mandhry, 103

Fatma Binti Salimu bin Rashid Haiti, 151

Shikely, 160 Hamed bin Mohamed Imam Timamy,

Fatma Mahmoud, 113 103

Fatma Mwaita, 167, 170 Hamilton, R. W., 50 Fatuma binti Ahmed, 90 Hamis bin Said bin Sheik El-Mom-

Fatuma binti Hassan, 167 basa, 49

Fatuma binti Mbarak bin Mohamed Handicrafts, 127, 131, 134-35, 194

Shikeli, 64 Haya, 143, 146 Faza, 141 social status, 54, 149-50

Fatuma Mkikuyu, 140 Heshima, 53, 110, 117, 172; and Feminism, 79, 156, 191-94 passim Hindus, 22, 26, 29

Fitina, 62. See also Competition Hinterland, 22, 30

Followers, 44 Hobley, C. W., 103, 137 Fort Jesus, 25, 27-28 Household, 18-20 ences; Elite; Social status 54

Freeborn, 132. See also Class differ- Household work, 86, 127-31, 153-

252 INDEX Hula hoops, 111 Kenya, 33, 34, 42, 147-48 Kenya Colony (lelemama association),

Ibadi, 28, 45, 47 16, 162

Ibinaal Watan, 166-79 passim Kenya National Assembly, 189 Ideology: and social stratification, Kenyatta, President, 189 43, 45, 77-78; patriarchal, 85; of | Khamis Mustafa, 160 Arab Women’s Institute and Arab Kikuyu, 35, 42, 132, 136, 198 Women’s Cultural Association, 193- Kilungu, 158-67 passim

94;impact of European, 218 Kingi, 158-67 passim Imperial British East Africa Company Kisauni, 29

(IBEA), 33, 61 Koran, 81, 96; on male dominance

Improvement associations, 156, 182- and responsibility, 55, 60, 121-

88 passim, 191~93, 219 22; on property ownership and

Indian Ocean, 22, 26, 28,42 inheritance, 58, 189-90; on wifely Indians, 37, 39, 108; economic obedience, 120, 123, 149

activity of, 1, 63, 69; in beni and \Koranic school, 20. See also Educalelemama, 14, 161; migration of, tion, religious 26, 27, 28; and domestic servants, Krapf, Ludwig, 32

47,127 Kungwi. See Makungwi

Indian Women’s Association, 184 Kutch, 22 Inheritance, 58, 189-90

Integration, 12, 36, 44, 160.Seeaiso Labor: in Mombasa, 35, 36, 41; and

Assimilation palmwine, 136; migrant labor sysTslah-Al, 97,119 and, 139, 147-48, 152-53; shift to Intermarriage, 8, 18, 28, 39 tem and prostitution, 139; women Islam: and women, 1, 45, 55, 56-58, wage, 130,218 76, 190-91; groupings within, 28, Lady Grigg Maternity Home, 115 45, 47, 77; no longer dominant in Lady Grigg Midwife Training Center,

Mombasa, 36; Friday mosque, 40; 144 Muslims as political minority in Lady Grigg Welfare League, 116

Kenya, 42; legal rights of slaves, Lamu: and purdah, 74, 123-24; 46; folk traditions, 76, 78-80; Islamic movements in, 77-78; Swaattempts to reconcile with Western hili New Year celebrations.in, 83; institutions, 101; values represented religious education of women, 102; in improvement associations, 220 handicrafts, 134; and prostitution,

Ivory , 26-27 141, 143; beni in, 163; women and ngoma, 180-81

Jamaa, 44 Land Rover, 16, 162

Jibli, 163-64 Land Title Ordinance of 1908, 63

Jirade binti Khamis bin Masood Latin America, 154-55

Mazrui, 72-73 Legislative Council, 37-39, 40, 108, 184

Kamba, 35, 132, 161, 198 Lelemama: defined, 13; popularity

Kambaa, 163 of, 15; and social status, 17;

INDEX . 253 origins, 156-58; and colonialism, 203-04, 209. See also Unyago 164-65, 173; criticism and regula- Makungwi associations, 6, 156; in

tion of, 168-70 Old Town, 19; origins of, 196; Lelemama associations, 6; and neigh- relations between, 207; structure

borhoods, 13, 16, 160-62; mem- of, 211-17; ranks within, 212-13; bership in, 13-14, 19, 160--62, succession of leadership, 213-14; 167-68; and social status, 14, 159, financial aspects, 214; entertain162-63, 170, 219; structure of, 14- ment, 217 15, 163-64; extent of, 15; activities Malawi, Lake, 30

of, 157; competition within, 157, Male dominance, 212; and slavery, 176-80; and ethnicity, 159; func- 43, 48; and class differences, 54, tions of, 163, 165-66, 172, 180; 55; and domestic relations, 55; and and lesbianism, 166; and doubling Islam, 55; patriarchal ideology, 59rule, 166, 178; generational aspects, 60; and public domain, 76; and 166-67; and purdah, 170-71; war class society, 97-100; European between, 177-80: decline of, 181, sexism as cause for, 154; associa-

211; contrasts and continuities tions’ disinterest in criticizing aswith improvement associations, pects of, 190; Afro-Arab Youth

182-83 League criticizes, 192; capitalist

Lesbianism, 166, 169 patriarchy, 219. See also Sexual Leso, 75; use of, 14, 174, 203, 213, asymmetry; Patriarchy 214, 215; boycott, 173-76, 181 Malindi: plantations at, 32, 46, 65,

Lewis, I. M., 79-80 131-32

Lienhardt, Peter, 171, 179-80 Mama Dachi, 72-73, 139-40, 144~45

Life-cycle rituals, 133, 169, 174, Ma Mishi wa Abdalla, 207-14 passim

201-02, 204; freeborn, 10, 19; Manyema, 72, 133, 140, 200, 214; - glave, 11, 12, 19, 219. See also source of lelemama, 13; source of

Unyago slaves, 30; prostitutes, 140, 142 Luhya, 35 Maravi, 200 Luo, 35, 42 Margaret, Princess, 184-85

Lyne, Robert, 87 Marginalization, 126, 131, 154 Mariam Mahmoud, 113

Maamun bin Suleiman Mazrui, 110 Mariamu Athmani, 214 Maendeleo ya Wanawake, 182n1,192 Mariamu binti Matano, 64

Ma Iko, 210, 213, 214 Marini Band, 163 Maintenance, 57 Marriage: makungwi to freeborn men, Majengo, 37. See also Neighborhoods 19; principle of kafa’a, 45; runaway

Makonde, 30, 196-97, 205, 210 wife, 48; among slaves, 51-54, 91;

Makua, 30, 196, 213 adultery, 52; instability of, 92-93, Makungwi, 133, 134, 196-217; 149; undermined or modernized defined, 11; associations among ‘by cinema, 120-21; national bill, slaves, 12; weddings pre-World War 189-90; forced, 192-93

I, 15; increasing popularity of, 17; Ma Sheha wa Sulimani, 162, 206,

and social status, 19~20; role of, 207, 213,214

254 INDEX Masgqat, 15, 16, 26 Muslim Women’s Institute, 188-89,

Matrilineality, 196, 197, 202, 210 194, 195, 219. See also Arab

Ma Tufaa, 213 Women’s Institute Maulidi, 78 Mwambao, 41-42, 194

Mazrui, 25-26, 108. See also individ- Mwana Amani binti Famao, 60-61

ual names Mwana Hamisi binti Eusuf, 61-62

Mbarak bin Ali Hinawiy, 109, 116 Mwana Hidaya, 73 Mbarak bin Rashid Mazrui, 44-45 Mwana, Khadija, 76

Mbaraki Nursery School, 189 Mwana, Kombo, 64 Men, 9, 10; relationships between Mwana, Kupona, 84-86, 90, 94, 130, slave and free, 20; occupations, 29, 149,219 30, 102,117, 128-29;responsibility Mwana, Mgoi, 133, 145, 214 toward women, 59-60; 104, 149; Mwana Mkisi, 76 economic activity of, 65-73; wami- Mwana Mkuu binti Ali bin Khamis

ji, 80. See also Male dominance; Mandhry, 64-65 Patriarchy; Sexual asymmetry Mwana Mtembwe and ngoma, 133, Menstruation, 19, 203-204. See also 145, 214

Unyago Mwana wa Mwinyi, 161

Midwifery, 115, 133-34 Mwatatu binti Wakati, 64 Migration, 95. See also Labor;Mom- Mwenye Hamis bin Vali, 50 basa

Mijikenda, 198; and lelemama, 13; Nairobi, 144-45 migration to Mombasa, 22, 35; Nana Mazawa binti Matari, 53

slave source, 30; missionaries Nandi, 142 among, 32; classified as natives, 39 Nannies, 122, 130, 143. See also

Mishi wa Mtwana, 200 Domestic service; Household work Mohamed Abdallah Ghazali, 107-08, Nasor bin Mohamed, 161

172 Natives and nonnatives, 3, 39-40

Mohamed Salim Muhashamy, 170 Ndembu, 205, 209, 210 Mohamed Suleiman Mazrui, 111, Neighborhoods: women’s ties within,

118-20 18-20; described, 37; and wamiji,

Mombasa, 134; size, 5, 35-36; eco- 80; and prostitution, 139-40, 143nomic and political development, 44; and lelemama_ recruitment, 22-35; religious composition of, 160-62; and recruitment into im36; neighborhoods, 37. See also provement associations, 186; and

Neighborhoods; Slavery makungwi associations, 210-11 Mombasa Social Survey, 144 Nemsi, 200, 213, 214 Momo wa Mohamadi, 214 New, Charles, 12, 79, 82, 91

Mosques, 40, 76, 191 New Town, 92-93. See also Neigh-

Mozambique, 22, 30 borhoods

Muslim women: defined, 3-4 , Ngariba, 205

Muslim Women’s Cultural Associa- Ngindo, 12, 200, 202 tion, 189, 194, 195, 219. See also Nigeria, 153 Arab Women’s Cultural Association Nimtz, August, 77

IN DEX 255 Nine Tribes, 25, 49, 63; as communal migrant labor system, 139; inforgrouping, 37, 45; economic activity mal relationships, 139; and home of, 72; membership in beni and lele- ownership or rental, 139-40, 143-

mama associations, 160, 167-68 44; and local elites, 140-41, 142;

Norweza, 49 ethnic composition of, 142-43, Nursing, 115-16, 126 146, 147; relationship of women to Nuru Shatry, 170, 172, 173-76 natal societies, 144-47; association

Nyakanga, 197, 205 with lelemama, 169 Nyamwezi, 35 Public domain, 54, 76-84, 94

Nyanya Majawangu, 214 Purdah, 73-76, 165, 175; contributes Nyanya wa Kinyasa, 200, 214 to female subculture, 1; in wedNyasa, 5,12, 13, 30, 196, 202 dings, 9-10; and lelemama, 15,

“Nyika,” 30 16-17, 158, 170-71; defined, 54; and property management, 62; and

Old Town, 5, 33. See also Neighbor- class differences, 74-76; and educa-

hoods tion, 106, 107, 110; and female

Oman, 13, 22, 25, 32 occupations, 114-17; origin of veil-

Omani Arabs: and ethnicity, 17, 19, ing, 123; relaxation of, 123-25; 36-37, 45: economic activity of, and retail trade, 135; and need for 29, 72; and associations. 167, 186. male mediator, 149; challenge to, See also Arabs; Elite; Ethnicity 172; and improvement associations,

Omar bin Namaan Basheikh, 39 188, 194, 195 Orr, James, 102

Palmwine, 73, 127, 136-38 .

Qadiriyya, 77, 180

Pate, 67, 76, 132, 135, 145 Racial categories, 37-41 Paternalism: intimacy between’ Railroad, 35 female slaves and owners, 11,121- Ranger, T. O., 165

22,128,130, 160 Rastamu, King, 161

Patriarchy, 98, 126, 150-55. See also Raya Mohamed Rashid, 113

Male dominance; Sexual asym- Rebellion, 171-72

metry Rebmann, Johannes, 32

Patrilineality, 44, 210 Residence, 36-37, 91-93. See also

Pemba, 83, 206 Neighborhoods

Philippines, 28 Richards, Audrey, 208-09, 212

Pigott, J. R. W., 45 Rivalry, 172-73. See also Competi-

Portuguese, 22, 25, 36 tion

Prestige, 16-17, 211-12, 215-17.See | Riyadha Mosque, 77-78

also Social status Ruete, Emily, 62, 75, 91, 94

Property ownership: and the Koran, 58; women’s need for male media- Sacleux, Charles, 201

tor, 59-62; and management, 62- Sadeh, 50

63; extent of for women, 63-73 Said ibn Sultan (r. 1804-1856), Prostitution, 35, 127, 138-47; and 26~27

256 INDEX Said Majid, 162 69; misfortunes of, 36; legal rights,

Salama, 52-53 46; as status markers, 46, 49; Saleh bin Alawi Jamalil (Habib Saleh), marriage of, 51-54; and Riyadha

77-78 Mosque, Lamu, 77~78; in Mwana

Salim, A. I., 5 Kupona’s poem, 86; marriage, 91;

Salim bin Khalfan Bu Saidi, 63 class of 99-100; subculture, 100; Scotchi, 158, 159, 161, 162, 166 and domestic service, 127-28; as-

Scouti, 161 similate freeborn customs, 202.

Seifu, 161-62 See also Abolition; Slavery; Unyago; Sex differences, 119-21 and names of various peoples Sexual asymmetry, 54, 76, 165.See Slave trade, 27, 30 also Male dominance; Patriarchy Social dislocations, 95~96 Sexuality, 11, 48-49, 52, 86-89.See Social status, 19-20, 21; relationship also Adultery ;Chastity ; Lesbianism; to economic position, 1-2; marked Unyago; Venereal disease; Virginity by dance, 13; and lelemama, 17,

Shafi’i, 49, 190 159, 162-63, 177; and freeborn Shamsa Mohamed Muhashamy, 170- descent, 43, 44; elite attempts to

71,176, 183, 184 Maintain control, 94-95;and female Sheha Ma Mishi, 160 autonomy, 149-50; and improveShehe Mvita, 81, 83 ment associations, 183, 186-87 ;and Sheik binti Abdalla bin Jabir, 60 makungwi associations, 216-17

Shihiri, 35 Social stratification, 25, 40, 43, 208

Simba, 161 Social structure, 8, 29

Skene, R., 13 Somo, 11, 19, 201. See also MakungSlaveowners, 8, 43, 99-100 wi Slavery: and roots of women’s op- Spirit possession and women, 78-80,

pression, 1; legacy or stigma of, 8, 84, 169,174 10, 18, 44; reflected in makungwi’s Steere, Bishop, 91, 134 wedding dances, 17-18; manumis- Stigand, Captain, C. H., 201 sion, 18, 46; paternalism, 19, 45- Succession: national bill, 189-90 56; in Mombasa, 29-32; division of Suleiman bin Ali, 52, 62 labor by sex, 30, 131-32; abolition, Swahili: use of term, 2-4 32; plantations, 32, 46; runaways, Swahili culture, 3, 17, 21, 220 33; concubinage, 47, 48-51; resis- Swahili dances, 12 tance to abolition, 51-54:and wage Swahili literature, 50-51, 56, 86, 90

labor, 126, 127; reflected in Swahili New Year, 76, 81-84 unyago, 206. See also Abolition; Swantz, Marja-Liisa, 209-10 Social status Slaves, 177; ‘Swahili’? as euphemism _ Taita, 35, 198

for, 2;and weddings, 8,11,12;and Tanganyika, 32, 34, 35, 77-78. dance, 13; brought to Mombasa, See also Tanzania 22; as export item, 26; legal status Tanzania: slave source, 30; abolition

of, 29-30; sources of, 30; occupa- of slavery, 32; extent of ten-mile tions and economic activity of, 30, strip, 33; elders in coastal towns,

INDEX 257 80, ujamaa villages, 153-54; social Up-country Africans, 14, 22, 36, 41,

divisions in coastal villages, 162- 172 63; competing associations in, 171;

life-cycle rituals in, 200, 266. See Velton, Carl, 201

also Tanganyika Venereal disease, 89, 115, 149

Tatu, 140 Virginity, 11, 88-89, 189, 206 Teaching, 113, 116, 126 Vugo, 10-11, 15, 17-18 Ten-mile strip, 33

Three Tribes: Mazrui mediate, 25; Wage labor. See Labor residence in Old Town,37;ascom- Wamiji, 10, 13, 78, 80-84, 133, 202 munal grouping, 45; land case, 63; Waziba (Haya) Union, 146 economic activity of, 69; in beni Weddings: and Swahili culture, 3; and

and lelemama, 160-61, 167-68. social change, 8-9; functions of, 9;

See also Twelve Tribes stages of, 9; slave, 12; and makungTrade: in development of Mombasa, wi, 15, 17-18, 20, 211; role of 22; importance to Omani empire, wamiji in, 81; changes proposed by 26; and women, 48, 127, 135-58 Muslim Women’s Institute, 188-89 Trade unions: Domestic and Hotel White settlers, 39, 95

Workers’ Union, 130 Women: and Islam, 1, 56-58, 76-80, Turner, Victor, 82, 84 84, 85; sexuality, 11; occupations, Twelve Tribes, 77, 133; ethnicity and 30, 113, 114-15, 126-50 passim;

social position of, 1, 8, 39, 40; survival strategies, 44-45, 59, 90, and makungwi, 17, 19, 169; politi- 94, 99; vulnerability, 54, 56-57, cal organization of, 22, 25-26, 29; §9-62, 73, 94; economic activity as Sunni Muslims, 28; organize of, 65-73; and house ownership, ivory caravans, 29; residence in Old 67, 132; obedience, 85, 89, 120; Town, 36; role of women in com- autonomy, 92-93, 127, 131, 146-

munal rituals of, 80-81; and 47; and employment, 116, 122; improvement associations, 186; subsidize colonial economy, 126; life-cycle rituals of, 198, 201. See and power, 212 also Nine Tribes; Three Tribes Women’s rights, 101, 118-20, 19192

Ujamaa villages, 153 Uganda, 34 Wright, Marcia, 130

Unyago: defined, 196; terminology Yao, 5, 30, 196, 200, 202, 205 used in, 197; drawings and color Yarubi, 25 symbolism in, 198, 205, 209-10; Young Arab Union, 119 regulation of, 204; case study of, 204-06; additions to ritual reper- Zabibu, Queen, 161 toire, 206-07; changing meaning Zainab binti Adam Musa, 108 of, 207-08, 209-10; formation of Zainab Jama Issa, 113 associations to perform, 210; as Zanzibar, 25,82, 133, 194; lelemama,

female slave subculture, 219. See 13, 156; slavery, 32, 46, 132;

also Makungwi women, 74, 75, 76, 87, 193, 201;

258 INDEX Zanzibar (continued) Zaru binti Abdalla, 47-48 secular education for girls, 103-07 Zein, Abdul el-, 77-78

Zaramo, 30, 200, 202, 205 Ziba, 143, 146