1 Introduction

Donald I. Ray, Tim Quinlan, Keshav Sharma, and Tacita A.O. Clarke, with W. Donkah, C. Owusu-Sarpong, M. Lekorwe, S. Vawda, S. Mkhize, M. Nyendu, R. Thornton, M. Molomo, P. Sithole, and K. Kgotleng

In Ghana, South Africa, and Botswana, chiefs are faced with the challenges of AIDS, gender, governance within the post-colonial state, and development. Many traditional leaders have in effect reinvented themselves and their office as promoters of development for their communities. Such a bold statement will likely provoke astonishment in some quarters, yet this is what our research found in Ghana, South Africa, and Botswana.

We use the words “chief,” “traditional leader,” “traditional ruler,” “traditional authority,” and kings or queen mothers as interchangeable (except for considerations of gender) representations of those Ghanaian, Botswana, and South African political leaders whose offices are rooted in the pre-colonial period. We recognize that different countries have different preferences as to which terms they would wish to use. We do not value one of those words over another. The definitions are discussed in each chapter and especially in Chapter 2.

British colonial officials trusted traditional leaders to some extent once the kings and courts in Ghana, South African, and Botswana had lost their independence and had been turned into “chiefs.” From the early 1900s to the early 1950s, British colonial rule in Ghana saw the chiefs as being suitable junior partners to imperialism. Rathbone (2000) has shown how nationalists, such as Kwame Nkrumah, regarded chiefs as being imperialist tools who held back independence and the nationalist agenda in Ghana. Many South African chiefs did collaborate with the neo-colonialist apartheid regime in South Africa (Mamdani 1996; Ntsebeza 2005). In Botswana the nationalist elite effectively converted chiefs, in one sense, into administrative officials of Botswana’s post-colonial state. With the dawning of independence, of what was supposed to be an age of democracy and development in the African post-colonial state, chieftaincy fell from view amongst academic researchers (except for historical purposes) and African politicians. Indeed when the Canadian Association of African Studies held its 1981 conference, “Into the 80’s,” not one panel was devoted to chieftaincy (Ray, Shinnie, and Williams 1981).

However, by the late 1980s and early 1990s, chieftaincy was beginning to emerge as a subject suitable for policy analysis (van Rouveroy 1987; Ray and van Rouveroy 1996). (The reasons for this re-emergence of chief-taincy are beyond the scope of this work. Problems in the governance of the post-colonial state and the refusal of traditional leaders to wither away may have been factors in this.)

The conferences in Ghana (Ray and van Rouveroy 1996) and Botswana (Ray, Sharma, and May-Parker 1997) marked a refocusing of the study of chieftaincy from history and anthropology to those of policy and what chiefs were doing in the post-colonial states of Ghana, South Africa, and Botswana. Based on our discussions with each other and with the International Development Research Centre (IDRC) of Canada, we applied to IDRC for a multi-year research grant that has resulted in this book, Reinventing African Chieftaincy in the Age of AIDS, Gender, Governance, and Development.

Chiefs in the post-colonial states of Ghana, Botswana, and South Africa are reinventing themselves and their offices as their communities and countries are increasingly challenged by a unique combination of AIDS, gender, governance, and development. We argue that while chiefs as indigenous community leaders have unique resources such as indigenous knowledge and community opportunities to respond to these challenges, such traditional leaders are often “missing voices” in the contemporary political and policy debates around these African issues. Our concern is to critically examine how chieftaincies in Botswana, South Africa, and Ghana are addressing these four challenges.

Many chiefs in Ghana, South Africa, and Botswana are having to redesign what they and their offices do within the post-colonial state if the chiefs hope to maintain the legitimacy of their authority in the face of health, cultural, political, and other development challenges. These challenges are the struggle against HIV/AIDS, societal debates and actions around gender, the ongoing debate on how to include indigenous African political institutions, processes, and values in the democratic governance of post-colonial sub-Saharan states, and the need to involve chiefs in development. We analyze the stresses and strains of the dynamic power dialectic between chiefs (whose offices are rooted in the pre-colonial period) and the contemporary post-colonial state. We examine a variety of ‘new’ chiefly practices such as “gate-opening,” “social marketing/public education,” and “community-capacity building.” All of these practices allow chiefs to introduce key issues such as HIV/AIDS to their communities.

Related to this, one of our important research findings is that many chiefs are able to effectively mobilize their communities because of the legitimacy associated with their traditional roles. The “differently rooted legitimacy” of traditional authorities, which exists outside of the control or creation of the post-colonial state, creates enough political resources for the chiefs to be able to negotiate on behalf of themselves and their communities with the post-colonial state, as well as foreign and domestic non-governmental organizations and foreign governments. Especially in Ghana but also in South Africa and Botswana, chiefs have played a key role in mobilizing their people to fight HIV/AIDS through “social vaccine” strategies. Chiefs have done this through first “gate-opening,” then “social marketing/public education,” and finally community-capacity building. We see this as a best practice model that goes far beyond the constricting orthodoxy of many governments and agencies that seek, at best, to restrict chiefs to being only quaint cultural artefacts.

Just because a social or political custom is regarded as “traditional,” does not mean it is unchanging. Hobsbawm and Ranger’s co-edited book, The Invention of Tradition (1983) argued that “tradition” was often invented in response to contemporary pressures. Building on this, we argue that traditional leaders are reinventing themselves and their offices in response to these challenges. For example, in all three selected countries, the stereotype of chieftaincy as being male-only is being challenged in response to changing gender practice: in fact, there is a growing “tradition” of women traditional leaders, be they queenmothers, regents, or chiefs.

Ghana, Botswana, and South Africa were selected as the focus of our comparative research on chieftaincy for several reasons. These countries have constitutionally recognized the significance of this traditional, i.e., indigenous, institution and have retained and adapted it to the modern or post-colonial system of governance. Thus all three countries have houses of chiefs or traditional leaders. All three countries are now Anglophone members of the Commonwealth and share not only English as the major state language but also being former British colonies. Through the Commonwealth Local Government Forum, all three countries communicate with each other over the roles of traditional leaders. The countries selected cover two different parts of the continent. The geopolitical comparison adds to our analytic contributions to the literature of chieftaincy.

As a careful reading of the chapters will show, there is an interweaving of two to four of the major themes in all chapters. Our book is the first to analyze chieftaincy in light of all of these four challenges. The first section of the book focuses on traditional leaders who are resisting HIV/AIDS. They are thus involved in the reinvention of chieftaincy as part of anti-AIDS development strategies.

In Chapter 2, Ray and Eizlini analyze two sets of Ghanaian newspaper articles to examine how active chiefs are in reinventing their roles by implementing development (including fighting HIV/AIDS) in their traditional areas. Research in Ghana augmented these searches. The articles provide a means of measuring how deeply involved chiefs are in development or at the least what the perception of the media is. Ray and Eizlini further argue that, based on the concept of divided legitimacy and shared legitimacy, chiefs not only have the potential to give legitimacy and accountability to development efforts but that significant numbers of chiefs do so.

These male and female chiefs are involved in the three levels of the fight against HIV/AIDS: gate-keeping, social marketing, and building local community competence and capacity to deal with the effects of HIV/AIDS on the people of their communities. Traditional leaders can facilitate and legitimate access to the message of anti-HIV/AIDS campaigns of outside organizations to their (chiefs’) communities. Chiefs can be passive or active gate-keepers. Traditional leaders can actively take part in social marketing (i.e., public education) campaigns, and they seem to be more believed by their subjects because of the unique legitimacy/credibility the traditional leaders have. Numbers of traditional leaders have created or are creating or are contributing to projects that deal with the effects of HIV/AIDS on people in their communities. Traditional leaders are fighting HIV/AIDS in Ghana. The involvement of traditional leaders in fighting HIV/AIDS is significant in terms of national strategy recognition, numbers, and geographic spread.

Chiefs recognize not only the intrinsic value of education but also the economic value in an educated public. Economic development illustrates the shared legitimacy within Ghana as development projects rely on the involvement of the state, chiefs, and contractors.

In the literature debates on chieftaincy, one strand of analysis seems to miss the need to more adequately problematize the reality of traditional leaders in Sub-Saharan Africa. When Ntsebeza (2005) argues that traditional authority undermines democracy and capitalist development, or Mamdani (1996) argues that a choice must be made between urban capitalist democracy (i.e., contemporary African states) and rural authoritarianism (i.e., chiefs), they miss certain key points, which in turn reveal certain of their theoretical shortcomings. They argue that the contemporary capitalist state is democratic and progressive while chiefs are seen to be undemocratic, corrupt, and against the rights of women. By engaging in such simplistic metaphysical reductionism, Ntsebeza and Mamdani see African post-colonial states and being “good” and chiefs as being “bad.”

Their analysis misses much of the reality of the last fifty years that too many of the elected and unelected political elites of the African post-colonial states have a record that includes massive violations of human rights of their “citizens,” as well as a record that includes many examples of genuine efforts at development, including democratization. So, while ultimately their analysis does not adequately problematize the contemporary African state, they also do not adequately problematize the chiefs, seeing only a static picture of their own reification: to Ntsebeza and Mamdani chiefs do not promote development because as a category they are seen as being inherently incapable of acting as grassroots political leaders for the benefit of their “subjects.” Ntsebeza and Mamdani fail to see that chiefs can be active agents of development for their subjects, as this chapter and this book argues. This is not to argue for some “golden age” of chiefs but rather that chiefs need to be analyzed in a more nuanced manner, using the conceptual tools such as divided legitimacy that, inter alia, this chapter uses.

In Chapter 3, Donkoh argues that Ghanaian chiefs have become involved in the promotion of education in their communities. She notes the changing role of chiefs and the various historical backgrounds among different groups, which undoubtedly affects the manner in which chiefs function in Ghana. Donkoh argues that partnerships between traditional leaders and development agents are not a recent phenomenon.

As the role of traditional rulers or chiefs in Ghana as heads of polities has been undergoing change resulting from the democratic advancement of the country, it has also become necessary to redefine their roles. Historically traditional rulers have been influential their area of jurisdiction. Their position had been premised on the political clout that they wielded within the community by right of birth. As a result of the imposition of British colonial rule and the subsequent activities of the modern nation state in undermining and usurping the traditional role of the chief, it has become necessary to carve out a new niche. Richard Rathbone’s excellent work, Nkrumah and the Chiefs: The Politics of Chieftaincy in Ghana, 1951– 60, highlights Nkrumah’s attempt to annihilate the chieftaincy institution in his quest to modernize local government. However, Rathbone did not address the question of how chiefs have tried to reinvent themselves by redefining their roles as partners in development. This chapter and others in our book do.

Robert Addo-Fening (1997) traced the evolution of the Akyem Abuakwa state in what is now Ghana. Addo-Fening also highlights Akyem Abuakwa rulers like Nana Sir Ofori Atta, who utilized the introduction of such external development agencies as Christianity, western education, and colonial rule to champion innovation and to improve the quality of life of their people. In this sense, Addo-Fening’s work is a forerunner to the efforts being made by traditional rulers like Otumfo Osei Tutu Ababia of Asante to mobilize resources for developmental efforts, including gate-keeping activities in the area of HIV/AIDS within his jurisdiction.

Ray and Brown, in Chapter 4, analyze the ability of traditional leaders to reinvent their roles and hence their relevance to their communities, so as to build community awareness and action in the fight against HIV/AIDS. Their focus is the building of HIV/AIDS competence, which is the idea that communities can become empowered to create and implement successful AIDS programs for prevention and support. In Ghana many traditional leaders are active participants in social marketing campaigns to prevent the spread of HIV/AIDS and to support those affected by the disease.

Ray and Brown argue that traditional leaders are and can be effective social marketers, meaning they can design, implement, and control programs calculated to influence the acceptability of social ideas. In Ghana, traditional leaders have committed themselves to being “instruments of socio-political cohesion to facilitate national development” and this commitment is extended to their efforts against HIV/AIDS. In Ghana traditional leaders act as advisers, intermediaries, and educators in HIV/AIDS education, prevention, and support work, and in fighting the stigmatization of those living and affected by the disease. Traditional leaders are key identifiers of social and cultural practices that can contribute to the spreading of the disease.

Ray and Brown argue that the community influence possessed by African chiefs is a result of historical legitimacy and credibility inherent in the pre-colonial institution of chieftaincy. Therefore traditional leaders can play significant roles in the development and implementation of HIV/AIDS policies and programs. African traditional leaders have the ability to increase the success of HIV/AIDS programs as they add legitimacy and credibility to such schemes and are critical to building a “social vaccine.”

Ray and Brown bring together the conceptual tools of political science and community health in their analysis of the involvement of Ghanaian traditional leaders in public campaigns to fight HIV/AIDS. Using political science concepts such as “shared legitimacy” (Ray in Ray, Sharma, and May-Parker 1997) and community health concepts such as “social marketing” (Kotler and Zaltman 1971) and “AIDS competence” (Lamboray and Skevingon 2001), Ray and Brown contribute to the emerging public policy analysis of HIV/AIDS that goes beyond the epidemiology of AIDS (Kalipeni, Craddock, Oppong, and Ghosh 2004). While we wait for the creation of medical vaccines to prevent HIV/AIDS, we must use the “social vaccine” to prevent HIV/AIDS (Amoa 2003) and to manage it: chiefs are amongst those who have the potential grassroots credibility to take part in such strategies and potentially facilitate their implementation.

In Chapter 5 Donkoh analyses the tradition of festivals in Ghana and the means by which traditional rulers are using these celebrations to reinvent their roles in order to further development projects and goals. Many festivals are being revived to act as agencies for asserting identities as well as a means of addressing local concerns. Community organizations and companies are able to provide materials, funds, and donations to festivals. The festivals, which have pre-colonial religious roots, have become occasions of planning development projects as government officials were invited and attended to encourage a dialogue between local communities and the central government.

Traditional rulers bring together otherwise unrelated groups in the chief’s area of jurisdiction for collective action, especially in the delivery of social services. Also, other sectors of civil society are using festivals as a means of providing leisure opportunities and promoting their causes. Donkoh’s observations and commentary on festivals in Ghana illustrate how traditional leaders are reinventing their offices so as to be innovative in their quest to provide agency to developmental projects and to educate their people on modern problems.

In Chapter 6 Brown examines in depth how queenmothers, particularly those of the Manya Krobo Queenmothers Association (MKQMA) in the Eastern Region are actively reinventing their roles by assisting in the building of AIDS competence in their communities. AIDS competence is understood as the idea that communities can become empowered to create and implement successful AIDS programs for prevention and support. The MKQMA have recognized the social consequences of the disease, which includes the loss of income for those affected and have thus created income-generating schemes for women in their communities, which include production of jewellery, cloth, soap, crops, and training as seamstresses. The queenmothers conduct social marketing campaigns aimed at educating the public. They have identified harmful social and customary practices and moved to deal with these. They have provided support for those living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. In building competency, the queenmothers have become actively engaged in soliciting resources from external agencies and programs.

The second part of the book focuses on how the themes of gender, development, and traditional authority interact as female traditional leaders reinvent themselves and their offices.

In Chapter 7, Schoon analyzes her experiences as a Canadian woman in becoming an honorary Manya Krobo queenmother in Ghana. Schoon’s chapter contributes to the literature on chieftaincy by addressing how outsiders such as herself become “honorary chiefs” and what they do. Given the rapidly growing numbers of honorary or “development” chiefs being created in Ghana, Schoon’s chapter yields insights into these understudied phenomena of chieftaincy reinventing itself.

In Chapter 8 Owusu-Sarpong’s semiotic and gender analysis of the Akan institution of queenmothers in Ghana uses two tales of Akan folklore as well as an examination of academics and constitutional measures in order to argue that the institution has evolved and to explain how social constructs, particularly in the colonial and post-colonial eras, conditioned, redefined and downgraded the significance of the institution which nevertheless has survived. Many continue to argue that the queenmother was an important political and judicial figure whose counsel was sought as she was regarded as “the trusted moral authority of her communityand the democratic guarantor of the male ruler’s demeanour.” Hence queen-mothers have the legitimacy to advocate for more equitable gender relations, including those relating to develoThe political institution of the “queenmother” has been much debated by researchers, colonial and post-colonial state leaders, and traditional authorities. This chapter reflects debates about politics and gender. From R.S. Rattray’s famous reference, in his Ashanti (1923), to the political role played in pre-colonial Asante by the “senior female in the ruling clan, i.e. the Ohema or so-called Queen Mother,” and K.A. Busia’s 1951 reminiscence of a possible pre-Asante situation, where “it was women who were chiefs,” British Indirect Rule resulted, in Asante, as it did elsewhere in Africa, in the reinvention of “customary laws,” which, among other things, denied women rights and positions that had once been theirs in pre-colonial times.

J. Allman and V. Tashjian (2000) demonstrate that male elders and colonial administrators sometimes connived against those Akan ahemmaa who resisted the illegitimate nomination of their “male counterparts” in the new system. They destooled the most “relentless” critics amongst queen-mothers and attempted to eliminate the “dangerous force of opposition” that their institution represented altogether. All to no avail: the queen-mothers’ resilience was never broken and, today, while “queenmothers” are still struggling to enter the Houses of Chiefs, they have regained official recognition and are working through their own associations or with the support of international organizations on communal and health matters.

J. Allmann and V. Tashjian noted that the socio-economic changes brought about by the new order in Asante ended in a generalized “gender chaos.” The divorce rate became excessively high, as Asante wives began to challenge “conjugal labour.” Awo Afua, a woman, married for thirty years with nine children, who was interviewed in 1940, boldly declared: “Serving a man is wasted labour. A woman must feel secure, but if she depends on an Asante man, she will live to regret it.... She is wiser in her trying to acquire her own property and to safeguard her future when she is still young. If she feels one man cannot help her, why should she not try another?” Indeed, the “wickedness” of women, so decried by men of those days, has not ended. In this incredible new “modern world” mentioned by Awo Afua, the number of asigyafo (women living on their own) was on the increase, despite the fact that Asante chiefs locked them up, calling them tutufo (“prostitutes”), to coerce them into accepting marriage. Hence, as Owusu-Sarpong notes, the politics of gender, development and male and female traditional leaders are interlinked in the “divorce” oral tale.

I. Wilks (1993) devoted a whole chapter to Akyaawa Yikwan (“she who blazed a trail”) – an oheneba (King’s daughter) who headed a diplomatic mission to the coast, in order to negotiate a peace treaty, in 1831, and who, in 1824, had strongly criticized Asantehene Osei Yaw Okoto’s hasty retreat, after the battle of Asamankow. Writing “from personal observation,” I. Wilks notes: “Her status as oheneba would scarcely have justified such presumptuous conduct, though it is pertinent to note ... that postmenopausal women in Asante tend often to assume overtly aggressive and provocative attitudes towards males, as if in compensation for their earlier years of enforced domesticity.” E. Akyeampong (1996) shed a new light on Asantehemmaa (Asante queenmother) Adoma Akosua’s attempt to overthrow Asantehene (Asante king) Osei Bonsu, who was at war in Gyaman, with the help of the king’s wives.

Amidst the series of publications in honour of Yaa Asantewaa, the queenmother of Ejisu, who led the 1900 final Asante “War of Resistance,” Kwame Arhin (2000), who is well known for his narrow views of queenmothers, took up the opportunity to set matters straight about “the extent to which [Yaa Asantewaa] departed from the normal political and military roles of Asante women” and conceded that, indeed, she had “exceeded” them and could serve “as proof that, for the Asante, gender was [once] irrelevant to leadership.”

Chapter 8, on “The Predicament of the Akan Queenmother (ohemmaa),” was inspired by this lively ongoing debate. Clearly, as the survey of various sources makes apparent in the chapter, the topic of “female rule” in Asante has been a “touchy” one in the academic and political worlds – “difficult to deal with” for some, particularly mind-boggling and challenging for others. In order to decipher the sub-text of this historical dilemma, the author takes the topic up from yet another angle of research – that of Orature as an indicator of political consciousness. Eno Sikyena’s 1988 tale, “How divorce came into the world,” soon proves to be of the nature of a “poetry of profound political significance.” The open-ended and skilled manner in which this female storyteller narrates episodes of the life of Domaa Akua, the queenmother, transforms her tale-text into an informed statement, at one moment in time and in history, on ever-changing matters of communal relevance. Although a tale figure, out of time and of space, Akua Domaa is the embodiment of the institution of “female leadership” among the Akan, which has, over the centuries, been under constant threat; her tribulations metaphorically do remind the listener/reader of the “sandy and slippery path” gender relations were taking in colonial Asante. Yet, Anansesem (tales) are generally not considered a genre of political or historical relevance, unlike other oral verbal performances during ritual celebrations – such as the ntam at royal funerals; this assumption, though, is equally proven wrong by the performer of the chosen tale. Orature, still widely practised at the “grass root” level, remains the most “humane” form of education, since it is an “art form” that originates from “the heart of the People” and is passed on “from mouth to mouth.” Through Orature, the dead come alive; the past is revived; the present is placed in a socio-historical perspective – it is either frowned upon or praised, in relation to changing “norms”; and the future is foretold. Owusu-Sarpong asks: Is that not, precisely, what Social History is trying to achieve?

Lekorwe, in Chapter 9, examines gender and traditional leadership in Botswana, illustrating the necessity of involving traditional leaders in gender issues. Although the political structures put in place at the time of independence conferred equality to all citizens, Botswana women have not been able to enjoy these rights to the fullest due to some of the prevailing customs and practices of the country. The women are also subjected to violence, which is not only physical but also emotional and economic in nature. Women have been marginalized in society and also excluded from traditional leadership roles. As the world conferences on women have operated as strong pressure groups, women of Botswana also began to organize and put pressure on government to review all legislation that seemed to hinder women’s full participation in the political domain. Though the government of Botswana has welcomed such developments, the biggest challenge to gender equality is the deeply rooted culture that is founded on a patriarchal system that subordinates women to men. For the plight of women to change for the better, the culture upon which some of the laws are embedded has to change. One positive change in Botswana is the installation of a woman paramount chief, Kgosi Mosadi Seboko of the Bamalete tribe in 2001.

The role of gender in traditional leadership has been discussed by many scholars (Molokomme et al. 1998; Gedney 1991; Kalabamu 2004; Ntshabele 2006). This chapter makes a contribution to the existing literature on gender and traditional leadership in Botswana. It points out the extent to which gender equality can be realizable and has indeed contribute to socio-political and cultural development in this country by highlighting the growing appreciative role of women in traditional leadership positions. It however recognizes the challenges that still remain to be addressed.

The third section of the book focuses primarily on the ways in which traditional leaders have sought to reinvent their roles in the governance of post-colonial state.

In Chapter 10, Vawda argues that after the fall of the apartheid regime in South Africa, the struggle to implement political democracy has meant two contrasting views of the role of traditional authority in local government and development. Vawda examines this discursive struggle over local governance between the post-colonial state under the ANC, and traditional authorities in KwaZulu-Natal province in the rural areas formerly under the traditional leaders but which are now being incorporated into the rapidly expanding greater Durban metropolitan area, now known as eThekwini Municipality. He notes that there are two differently rooted legitimacies at play. He shows that this politics of local governance is far more nuanced and complicated than the post-colonial state’s portrayal of chiefs as “tradition-bound” reactionaries who wish to hold back democracy while oppressing the poor. For example, by examining the rural poor in the areas on Durban’s periphery, Vawda finds that the traditional leaders through their legitimacy and control of land actually can defend the economic and hence political interests of the rural poor against the attacks on them by the municipalities’ service development, framed as they are by the World Bank’s pro-capitalist philosophy that only those who can pay for services can access them (this ironically echoes the urban services politics of the apartheid regime). In this case these rural poor depend in new ways on traditional leaders to defend their customary access to land for subsistence farming against the swallowing up of this land by urban development.

The chapter attempts to answer the question raised by Mamdani (1996) as to whether the division between a politically modern urban and potentially democratic system of governance and a rural-based authoritarian, politically conservative traditional form of government can be overcome. The dualistic terms of the debate set up by Mamdani is shown to be an inaccurate characterization. Neither is it solely about the way tradition compromises democracy or modernity, as Ntsebeza (2005) argues, but rather the terms of debate centre around the more complex reality of contestation and negotiation of “tradition” within the confines of a democratic state between different and competing political parties, interests, and development agendas. This contestation and negotiation over tradition is also not simply about the resurgence of custom and tradition (Oomen 2005) or about the “harnessing,” as Amoteng (2007) suggests, of traditional leadership for democracy. “Harnessing” would suggest that the institution of traditional leadership be attached in a positive way to democracy or incorporated into some form of modern system of government. This would be to miss the point that traditional forms of governance are already implicated in modernity as reconstituted institutional forms through which governance take place.

Mkhize, in Chapter 11, analyzes the uneasy relationship between traditional leaders (amakhosi) and the post-apartheid, post-colonial South African state. He interviewed amakhosi on the periphery of the Durban/eThekwini Municipality whose land, which they had governed, was being or had been incorporated into the new megacity. The initial interviews with the amakhosi were conducted before the 2000 local government elections, which implemented the new boundaries set by the post-colonial government. A second round of interviews was conducted after these elections. Mkhize examines the questions of demarcation of boundaries, consultation with amakhosi by the state over demarcation, the new distribution of powers between the traditional authorities and local government councillors, the role of traditional leaders in development and the future of traditional leaders in the new South Africa (specifically the Durban/eThekwini Municipality), the chiefs’ perception of government’s attitudes towards themselves, and how the demarcation process has affected the land problem in their peri-urban areas. Mkhize argues that, contrary to some expectations, the amakhosi have on the whole recognized the new realities of local government and are often trying to “constructively engage” with it and to promote development in order to reinvent themselves as governors in the new South Africa.

Mkhize’s chapter contributes to the new body of literature such as Lambert (1995) and Mamdani (1996), on the challenges of aligning traditional leadership with democratically elected governance structures, which emerged during the first decade of the twentieth century. Mkhize articulates the complexities of transforming traditional structures in a context of a South African province, which saw sharp political polarization and violence during the 1980s and 1990s. The new state had, and still has, an arduous task of absorbing traditional leadership into the new constitutional democracy without being seen to be secretly plotting the demise of the institution of chiefship. Chieftaincy claims to be part of Africa’s heritage but it is also one in which the origins of some of the chief-taincies which emerged during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century were colonial inventions. Contrary to the wishes of Mamdani, the role of traditional leadership in the new South Africa has become more pronounced recently as various political parties have sought to attract their support. More and more attention is being given to rural areas and that has been demonstrated by the new government’s decision to establish the Ministries of Rural Development as well as Co-operative Governance and Traditional Affairs. The rural areas are the terrain of traditional leaders: it will be interesting to see how the new department penetrates traditional leadership structures and secures cooperation.

In Chapter 12, Nyendu examines the degree of participation of traditional leaders in Ghana’s South Tongu District Assembly. The 1992 Constitution would seem to expect active roles for them within the framework of the current decentralization policy for local government. He argues that not only were traditional leaders not consulted in the appointment of the government appointees to the District Assembly but, on the whole, the number of traditional leaders who have participated in the South Tongu District Assembly since the inception of the current decentralization policy in 1981 is woefully inadequate. Where some traditional leaders were nominated by the district chief executives for appointment by the government, they were not the most qualified in terms of their academic/professional qualifications, which would have enabled them to bring their experiences to affect the work of the district assembly. Prominent traditional leaders in the South Tongu District are rarely made part of the government appointees because the government fears that chiefs could turn against the government at any time, especially when they refuse to be used to rubber-stamp government positions. Thus the post-colonial state in Ghana holds an ambiguous regard for chiefs. Controlling local government is more important for the post-colonial state than certain aspects of democratic governance.

Several volumes have been written on democratic decentralization (i.e., democratic local government) in Africa and elsewhere in the Global South and the need for the participation of traditional authorities, otherwise known as chiefs in this process. Ayee (1994), for instance, has traced the history of the involvement of chiefs in local government in Ghana. Ayee points out that, since the advent of colonial rule, chiefs in Ghana have functioned as convenient tools used by governments in local government. Ayee (2003) calls for the institutional representation of traditional authorities in Ghana’s democratic decentralization program. Azar (2002), on the other hand, argues that the conservative nature of the institution of traditional authority makes its participation in any form of governance in modern times untenable.

Nyendu disagrees with Azar’s position but also makes a stronger case for the institutional representation of traditional authorities in democratic decentralization than Ayee (2003) has made. This is because traditional authorities in the Global South represent the interests of their people, thereby wielding influence in the rural areas, which enables them to exercise control over land and other forms of local resources, which are vital for facilitating local development. In light of this, Nyendu argues that governments at the national level must of necessity involve traditional authorities in the planning and implementation of local development projects, and since democratic decentralization is now being seen as the vehicle for local development, the institution of traditional authority must of necessity be central to local government. Nyendu argues that the participation of traditional authorities in democratic decentralization should not be at the behest of governments at the national level and that the latter must have no choice in the matter and must be compelled to do so through enforceable legal and constitutional frameworks. Nyendu’s chapter contributes the argument for enforceable legal instruments that will compel national governments in the global south to institutionalize the participation of traditional authorities in democratic decentralization policies that seek to facilitate local development planning and implementation processes.

Lekorwe, in Chapter 13, argues that, in Botswana, the traditional governance institution of the Kgotla (a type of town hall meeting) is still an important democratic institution, particularly as a two-way channel of communication between the government and the people. Traditional leaders through the Kgotla can also reduce the intensity of political conflict as the institution is regarded as non-political. It is easier for the government to use Kgotla meetings to localize any ethnic feelings. Potential conflicts can be dealt with through the institution of the Kgotla, where people express their views without fear. In order for the Kgotla to be an effective institution of planning development, participation of people in the formulation of plans should be real and not ceremonial.

Globalization and modernization have presented a number of challenges to the developing world. Among these are the challenges to the existence of traditional institutions. Traditional institutions in many jurisdictions have had to be transformed to ensure they do not outlive their usefulness. This chapter discusses the role of Kgotla and traditional leadership in Botswana. It is a significant addition to the literature as it shows that in Botswana the integration of traditional leaders continues to play a crucial role in democratic building and mobilization of rural development (Dusing 2003; van Binsbergen 1995).

Indeed the conclusions derived in this chapter are supported by the recently released Afrobarometer research results (Afrobarometer 2009) that about 88 per cent of Batswana agree that the Kgotla is a part of Botswana’s culture and helps to strengthen its democracy and therefore should be retained as a forum for public consultation.

In Chapter 14, Thornton conducted a survey of 1,200 residents in the Emjindini Royal Swazi Chiefdom of South Africa to understand people’s attitudes towards chieftaincy in the post-apartheid period. Thornton argues that chieftaincy is far from dead in South Africa, which has a history of multiple loyalties and identities.

The arguments and data discussed in this chapter are partly in response to Mahmood Mamdani’s book, Citizen and Subject (1996). Mamdani draws a rigid distinction between what he calls “citizenship” in the state and the “subject” of the king, or, in this case, of the African chief. Thornton’s research on chiefship and citizenship in the first decade of the twenty-first century argues that such distinctions are untenable. Mamdani’s argument is hardly new. Captain Frederick Lugard (1921) advanced this argument in The Dual Mandate over seventy years ago. Lugard argues that there are – and should be – two types of political membership. This is because the “natives” demanded it (one side of the “dual mandate”) and also because power could be delegated to indigenous political structures under a colonial administration that retained ultimate power. Such strategies did not originate in African colonial practice – the Roman colonial empire used similar strategies, for instance – as Mamdani claims, but were used in colonial Africa as a means of recognizing African political autonomy within the administration of complex collections of chief-doms and kingdoms of the sort that Lugard managed in Nigeria and later Uganda. This chapter examines a South African chiefdom, Emjindini, lying just over the border with Swaziland, Africa’s last absolute monarchy. It describes a period in South African history when chiefship had recently been liberated from the shackles of the apartheid government and when new forms of local government had just been introduced. At this time, the chiefship and the new local municipal governments had begun to compete intensely for legitimacy. This chapter shows that the distinctions advanced by Mamdani and Lugard – “citizen and subject,” or “dual mandates” – are quite useless in attempting to understand the political moment where chiefdom meets democratic local government. It does not offer grand theory. It describes, through analysis of a questionnaire administered to 335 people, ambiguity and confusion in ordinary people’s minds as competing and essentially novel forms of local government compete for their attention. This competition results in layered and complex forms of local government in which authority is diffused over multiple centres. This also means, however, that responsibility is diffused and confused, resulting in deep ambiguities of power rather than simple dichotoMolomo argues in Chapter 15 that as much as the people of Botswana are being socialized into the Westminster parliamentary system, their perceptions are still rooted in the traditional institutions. Despite the fact that the authority of dikgosi (traditional leaders) has been significantly eroded by constitutional changes, their influence over people is still an important political reality and does not show any signs of receding. The question of membership in the House of Chiefs became the medium by which minority ethnic groups attempted to become fuller participants in Botswana’s democracy.

Botswana’s political stability must be unpacked to explain the basis of its stable democratic rule. Although at times characterized as a “fragile bloom” (NDI 1990, 8) of “an authoritarian liberal state” (Good 1996), Botswana is generally regarded as a model of a working democracy in Africa. This chapter seeks to analyze the extent to which traditional institutions, especially bogosi (chieftaincy), have contributed to the democracy debate. It shows how bogosi as a traditional system of governance has contributed to state democratic rule in the post-colonial state in Botswana.

Second, it seeks to understand whether bogosi undermines democratic rule or is a partner in its development? The basic thesis of this chapter is that bogosi serves an important link between government and the people in the democratization process in Botswana. Government relies on the Kgotla (the traditional village assembly) as a forum for consultation, communication, and dissemination of information, which is presided over by dikgosi. Outside the Kgotla, government does not have any reliable forum for a two-way communication with the people. Political rallies that take place at “freedom squares” are partisan and are characterized by volatility and often abusive language. As a result, the Kgotla stands out as an important forum for democratic discourse in Botswana.

Third, it addresses the important dialectic that exists between bogosi and ethnicity in Botswana. Perhaps the relation between bogosi and ethnicity constitutes a new site for democracy debates. As propounded by Muller (2008, 19), it shows how “ethnic nationalism has played a more profound and lasting role in modern history than is commonly understood” and, whether we like it or not, “ethnonationalism will continue to shape the world” in the new millennium. In the quest to expand the frontiers of democracy, ethnicity is used to question the notion of democratic citizenship. Citizenship within the liberal democratic setting guarantees people the enjoyment of individual and civil rights as well as equality before the law, irrespective of class, race, or ethnicity.

Fourth, the chapter concludes by addressing the process of democratic consolidation in Botswana. The problematic is to try to establish whether bogosi and ethnicity play important parts in democratic consolidation, or whether they are anathema to democratic rule. Since elections have been embraced as one of the fundamental pillars of the liberal democratic process and are said to be essential conditions for regime change, the questions are: 1) how can bogosi be said to be assisting democratic consolidation and yet remain a hereditary institution? 2) how can ethnicity consolidate democracy when the ethnic question presupposes that ethnic groups are not equal in the country?

Political and theoretical discourses that try to understand the relationship between bogosi and ethnicity, on the one hand, and democratic consolidation, on the other, are limited because they depart from the basic premise that bogosi and ethnicity are institutions from the authoritarian past, hence anathema to democracy. As stated by Proctor (1968, 59), one of the major problems faced by the architects of the new states of Africa was to carve out a “satisfactory position for tribal authorities in a more integrated and democratic political system.” As Sklar (1999, 9) succinctly pointed out, the nation-states in Africa appear to be polarized by a “dual identity”; that is, identity, at one level, accorded to the “ethnic group,” and, at the other level, to the “nation-state” manifesting a “common citizenship.” Furthermore, given the arbitrary manner in which colonial bound-ries were drawn, which eroded a sense of “national identity,” the effect was that the nation-states that emerged had low levels of cohesion, making political competition a zero-sum game.

Following from cultural and modernization theories, Mamdani (1996) concludes that bogosi is a hindrance to the development of democracy. He asserts that bogosi leads to “decentralized despotism” as well as the “bifurcation” of society into “citizens and subjects.” While his formulation clearly captures important trends during the colonial period and has validity in some African social formation, this position does not enjoy universal validity.

The contribution of this chapter to scholarship negates the argument that bogosi is anathema to democratization as a simplistic and perhaps Eurocentric way of looking at social reality. Democracy must be seen as a socially constructed and contested process that is mediated by prevailing cultural institutions. In Botswana, as clearly articulated by Nyamnjoh (2003, 111), bogosi is a “dynamic institution, constantly reinventing itself to accommodate and be accommodated by new exigencies” of democratization. The interface between bogosi and democracy constitutes an “unending project, an aspiration that is subject to renegotiation with changing circumstances and growing claims by individuals and communities for recognition and representation” (ibid.).

In Chapter 16 Sharma argues that the establishment of the House of Chiefs in Botswana was a mark of recognition for traditional leaders. It was an effort to integrate the traditional leadership into the modern democratic structures of the country. Although the role of this House has been discussed in the general context of the role of traditional structures (Linchwe 1994; Morton and Ramsey 1987; Sharma 1997), this chapter on Kgotla (the new name for the House of Chiefs) examines in depth the nature of its role and effectiveness.

At the start of our research, there was some belief that, because of attitudes towards gender and traditional leaders, women would never become chiefs in Botswana. Yet one of the significant developments in the history of the House of Chiefs has been the introduction of female chiefs, beginning with the election of Kgosi Rebecca Banica from Chobe in 1999 and the inclusion of Kgosi Mosadi Sebeko as ex officio member after becoming paramount chief of Balete in 2000. Clearly tradition is being reinvented.

In Chapter 17 Ankra writes from the perspective of being a member of the Asante king’s royal family (hence his title “Barima”) and of having been the top civil servant in charge of the administration of Ghana’s National House of Chiefs (NHC). Having made his entire career in the post-colonial state’s civil service branch in charge of administering the regional and national house of chiefs, he is in a unique position to observe the chief-state dynamic in Ghana and to reflect on how the attempts of the state and chiefs to reinvent chieftaincy in Ghana played out in how the National House of Chiefs operates. In terms of the sparse literature on how houses of chiefs operate in Africa, this chapter thus makes a special contribution and falls within the participant action research framework (PAR).

Sharma argues in Chapter 18 that one of the most significant government roles of the traditional leaders in Botswana is in the administration of customary courts. Recognizing the role played by traditional leadership structures, Botswana has integrated them into its contemporary machinery of public administration. Traditional leaders are particularly significant in the administration of justice as Botswana’s customary courts co-exist with the modern judiciary and handle almost 80 per cent of the cases. The people in rural areas find customary court justice to be comprehensible, inexpensive, speedy, and not too technical. These courts have been recognized by law, derive their authority from tradition as well as from statutes, and administer customary as well as statutory law. Although scholarly work on Botswana’s customary laws (Schapera 1984; Tlou 1997) and research output on aspects of administration of traditional leaders based on customary law and practice (Sharma 1997; Ray, Sharma and May-Parker 1997; Ray and Reddy 2003) have contributed to our understanding of the role of traditional leaders in this respect, this chapter, based on empirical research, adds to that understanding as it covers the nature of authority and jurisdiction of these courts, their relationship with modern courts, and their machinery for administration, review, and appeals of cases. This chapter gives particular attention to the discussion of strengths, limitations, challenges, and relevance of these courts in contemporary public administration.

Pearl Sithole in Chapter 19 examines the potential for traditional leaders to act as local governors in post-apartheid South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province. Using the case study of Zulu traditional leaders whose land was being incorporated (or might soon be) by the post-colonial state’s local government structures, in the Durban area, as part of the imposed demarcation of new local government boundaries, Sithole argues that traditional leaders continue to be relevant to their “subjects” in contrast to the apparent wish of some elements of the central government that the traditional leaders would disappear and be replaced by the post-colonial state’s local government apparatus.

She argues that both the differently rooted legitimacies of traditional leaders and the post-colonial/post-apartheid state continue to be relevant, often in different ways, to South Africans. Traditional leaders in the case study serve the needs of the rural (and peri-urban) poor by providing access to land, while the post-colonial state operates in the interest of capitalism’s “urban development” strategies, which may, ironically, worsen the situation of the rural poor: “the commercialization of most things, and especially land, creates a situation in which traditional leadership as an institution is seen as the personification of a challenge against capitalist despotism.”

Traditional leadership has been problematized in South Africa for several reasons. Firstly it is argued that it enforces patriarchy – especially through systems of position and property inheritance, which prioritizes men, a system endorsed by a patrilineal system of tracking identity (see Bentley 2005). Secondly it is seen as not amenable to democracy – especially where democracy is viewed mainly in terms of representative democracy and when the focus is more on access to power than on ways of solving social problems (Mamdani 1996). Thirdly, it is tainted with assisting apartheid – the extremist of this view see traditional leadership as a creation of colonialism and an institution that promotes institutional tribalism/ethnicity upon which apartheid and racism were based (Ntsebeza 2006). Lastly, it is seen as promoting a land tenure system that does not give full rights of ownership to people – some critics have criticized communality of land as a confusing system that is protected by traditional leadership; but recently they are beginning to hint that perhaps communality of land is feasible without what they see as a less-democratic form of governance (i.e., traditional leadership) controlling it. (Cousins and Claassens 2004; Cousins 2007).

While these issues are being attended to, it has become clear to both critics and more tolerant analysts that “traditional leadership” is resilient (De Jongh 2006; Oomen 2005). It has critics within government, civil society, and academics and even within communities, but it persists with some level of support from its communities. Some analysts have sought to explain this persistence (Ray and Reddy 2003; Sithole 2008). They argue firstly that traditional leadership has been one form of governance that has remained close to people in rural areas through many phases of governance in South Africa. While the vicissitudes of colonial politics and economic subjugation of indigenous Africans have impacted and abused both traditional leadership and communities, most communities have been able to separate attempts to corrupt the incumbents of the institution and relevance of the institution itself in their survival strategies. Secondly, there is a need to differentiate the social ills of patrilineality and patriarchy from the specific manifestation of these within traditional leadership so that patriarchy is dealt with. There is a need to establish a position on whether one starts by dealing with social ideology (which still promotes patriarchy in property inheritance even in rural settings) or by eliminating specific institutions as a whole, such as traditional leadership. Thirdly, there is a need to deal with the question of what is “traditional” about traditional leadership and the degree to which traditional leadership has changed, or has influenced change, and how it deals with current social and development issues. Lastly, there is a need to examine the extent to which traditional leadership could be an option amongst many that facilitate different types of lifestyle – different tenure systems for different socio-economic groups, different cultural practices for a range of people, and different forms of identity and heritage.

In terms of policy on traditional leadership, there are different views. One school of thought dominated by civil society (with some in government being a bit tactical in adopting the same view) prescribes a subtle elimination of the institution of traditional leadership. The traditional leaders themselves have been “reading this approach between the lines” in the government’s “diplomacy” on the question of traditional leadership – linking this to the brief Chapter 12 of the Constitution, which suggested that national and provincial governments “may” do something about traditional leadership. However, government later demonstrated a more positive approach that seeks to integrate traditional leadership within the South African system of government (see Sithole and Mbele 2008). This is demonstrated in the latest policies and legislation that has been promulgated – the White Paper on Traditional Leadership and Governance (2003), the Traditional Leadership Governance Framework Act (TLGFA 2003), the Communal Land Rights Act (2004), as well as the provincial acts taking cue from the TLGFA.

In Chapter 20 Kgotleng argues that succession disputes are not essentially about declaring the rightful chief but in reality reflect issues of governance in the political environment surrounding the chieftaincy in post-colonial, post-apartheid South Africa.

Kotleng explores how succession disputes in local level politics are embedded in the broader national political environment that shapes everyday practices and meanings surrounding chieftaincy in post-apartheid South Africa. This follows on John and Jean Comaroff’s views (2004) about how local-level politics has become propitious for experimentation and resolving challenges experienced by people at the margins of the state. The chapter postulates that a succession dispute among the Batlhaping boo Phuduhucwana in rural North West province of South Africa was critical for creating an avenue for the Phuduhucwanas to define the proper status, role, and powers of their chieftaincy within the new local government discourses while also serving as a vector for setting out the kind of chieftaincy best suited for articulating aspirations and experimentations for dealing with political experiences. While situating such disputes within the rubric of local government, the chapter demonstrates that succession disputes are amenable to providing a horizon for articulating the aspirations of people in remote and poorer parts of South Africa.

The final section of the book examines the reinvention of chieftaincy as it interacts with the environment and development.

Keating, in Chapter 21, argues that traditional leaders can be key leaders in persuading their communities to protect the environment. The Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary is the guide for community conservation initiatives in Ghana. The sanctuary was established in 1999 as a means of conserving the unprotected hippos in the Northern, Upper West, and Brong-Ahafo regions along the Black Volta River. The sanctuary was initiated by the chiefs and people of the Wechiau Traditional Area of the Upper West Region, with assistance from the Nature Conservation Research Centre (NCRC) and the Ghana Tourist Board. The sanctuary is the first community-owned and managed large mammal sanctuary in the country and all twenty-two villages in the vicinity of the sanctuary are involved in the initiative.

Traditional leaders were key to this community-based environmental development project, which worked locally and also mobilized international funding from Canada’s internationally renowned Calgary Zoo. Keating also discusses the creation and role of “development chiefs” from the Calgary Zoo who were an integral part of this relationship and in the process of reinventing chieftaincy.

Dorm-Adzobu, Ampadu-Agyei, and P.G. Veit (1991) have shown the linkage between traditional religious beliefs, traditional authority, and environmental conservation. Daneel (1996) established that such traditional religious beliefs and authority, i.e., chieftaincy, have been used in Zimbabwe by traditional religious and political authorities to mobilize their believers and subjects for successful extensive re-forestation campaigns. Furthermore, much of the literature that examines the actions of traditional political and religious leaders and natural resource management focuses on land management, as do the above sources, but comparatively little focuses on traditional authorities and animal management, Hinz (1999) being one of the relatively few to comment on this.

Keating’s chapter examines a key case study of how community-managed animal conservation schemes were made possible only through the active involvement of local chiefs in the Wechiau Hippo Sanctuary. Keating analyzes how these chiefs, acting in conjunction with other political forces such as the Calgary Zoo, were able to take part in the mobilization of their subjects as well as the mobilization of resources in Canada for this Ghanaian environmental development project.

In Chapter 22 Molomo explores the changing relationships between chiefs and land. In traditional Tswana land tenure, all land was controlled by the Kgosi (chief), who held it in trust for the people. Tribesmen were allocated land in villages for their primary settlement, in the area outlying the villages for arable fields, and further on grazing lands for their cattle. Control of land and water resources was a source of wealth and power; hence dikgosi (chiefs) enjoyed patronage and loyalty from their people. Traditionally, wealth was measured by the extent of land ownership and the size of their herd. Cattle were used as draught power, so ownership of a large herd of cattle meant one could plough large fields and could also loan some cattle to the less-privileged members of society, thereby exercising control over them.

The contest for political power between dikgosi (chiefs) and the post-colonial state was first defined during the writing of the independence constitution wherein dikgosi were relieved of the executive powers and reduced to mere figureheads in land administration and allocation, within the structure of local authorities. The last straw on the camel’s back came with the passing of the Tribal Land Act of 1968, which relieved dikgosi of the important and historic function of land allocation, which was transferred to the newly established land boards.

The administration of land in Botswana through the land boards is often regarded as a model that needs to be emulated in the Southern African region. The retention, nominally of dikgosi’s control of the tribal areas and the Tribal Territories Act places certain ethnic groups under the territorial domain of other groups that are accorded a paramount status in the hierarchy of bogosi (chieftainship). It also imposes the dominant Tswana cultural constraints on other people who have been transformed into minorities. This allows Tswana customary concepts and land rights to be overlaid in land in an integrated process of national development.

The overlaying of chieftaincy over tribally defined boundaries under the jurisdiction of Tribal Land Boards has become a major source of contestation by ethnic minorities. Increasingly, ethnic minorities are challenging dominant paradigms of nation-building, which seek to diffuse the values of the dominant Tswana culture infused with values of capital accumulation. They argue that Botswana, in spite of the assertion that it is a homogeneous entity, in reality has divergent cultural traits that must be recognized in nation-building. Several ethnic groups, especially ethnic minorities, have formed ethnic associations that call for the recognition of their rights, particularly language and land rights.

The disjuncture that underlies the land question in Botswana has its origins in the pre-colonial period and was further institutionalized by the post-colonial state. In common practice, every Motswana has a right to be allocated land, especially for residential, arable, and grazing purposes. Although at face value land allocation seems equitable, in reality it is skewed and disadvantages certain ethnic groups in Botswana. In Botswana, through the land boards, there has been a seemingly equitable distribution of land. Land is intimately tied to the tribal areas, and ethnic minorities, especially the Basarwa, are often disadvantaged in the allocation and access to land.

The contribution that this chapter makes to the body of knowledge is to rewrite Botswana’s history and to recognize the historical injustices that have occurred in land tenure practices. This chapter agrees in particular with the works of Wilmsen (1989), who articulates the political economy of the Kalahari and attempts by Basarwa to assert their land rights. It also agrees with the works of Werber (1982; 2002) that Botswana’s land tenure system does not recognize traditional land rights of ethnic minorities. Moreover, the chapter concludes that, in the whole process, dikgosi are marginalized from playing any meaningful role in land allocation.

In Chapter 23, the major conclusions of our IDRC-funded research are discussed with regard to the reinvention of chieftaincy in Ghana, Botswana, and South Africa.

MANYE NARTEKIE, DEPUTY PARAMOUNT QUEENMOTHER, WITH DR. DON RAY. (PHOTO: DR. DON I. RAY.)

PROFESSOR TIM QUINLAN, SOUTH AFRICA.

PROFESSOR KESHAV C. SHARMA, PROFESSOR MPHO MOLOMO, AND DR. MOGOPODI H. LEKORWE, BOTSWANA. (PHOTO: PROFESSOR K.C. SHARMA.)