ABSTRACT

The material culture of the Tallensi is, comparatively speaking, somewhat analytically neglected in comparison to the wealth of ethnographic material available. The present paper seeks to redress this dearth of archaeological data by focusing on the history of a particular Tallensi shrine in the Tongo Hills of northern Ghana. Shrines, especially in the West African context, appear to serve as symbolic repositories of information and shared understanding about regional social processes, and ethnohistory and archaeological excavation of shrines and associated material culture can reveal much about settlement patterns, resource utilization, and ethnicity.

Keywords: Tallensi, shrines, materiality, Tongo Hills, Ghana.

INTRODUCTION

The Tallensi of northern Ghana are well known via the seminal anthropological studies of Meyer Fortes (e.g., 1967, 1969, 1987). Fortes provides a wealth of detail on, for instance, kinship and aspects of Tallensi religion and ritual practice in relation to ancestor worship and to a lesser extent shrines. However, his functionalist approach means that Tallensi material culture is comparatively neglected, as is the historical dimension of their existence. The net result is that the Tallensi are, to a certain extent, ‘fossilized’ in time, or as cogently put by Allman and Parker (2005:38–39), “marooned on the margins of a distant hinterland in a timeless ethnographic present.” The study by Allman and Parker, just cited, attempts to redress this ahistorical portrait of the Tallensi primarily through the consideration of the history of one shrine, Tonna’ab or Yaane. In so doing, the anthropology of the Tallensi has thus been recently supplemented by historical study.

However, the limitations of the historical record in relation to the Tallensi, as indeed to that of most of the ethnic groups of northern Ghana (and, indeed, in surrounding areas) are obvious, where written history begins almost exclusively with European contacts at the end of the nineteenth to early twentieth century (see Allman and Parker 2005). The occasional reference in Arabic historical sources might exist (Insoll 2003), but not seemingly to the Tallensi, and in overall terms these historical sources are very sparse. Thus it is surprising that, until the start of an ongoing research project begun in 2004 (Insoll et al. 2004, 2005), no archaeological research had been completed in the Tongo Hills, the epicentre of Tallensi settlement, beyond an ethnoarchaeological study of Tallensi house compounds (Gabrilopoulos 1995) and an inventory of cultural heritage completed by one of the present authors (Kankpeyeng 2001).

Partly in an effort to redress this disciplinary imbalance, the archaeological research project described here was begun, with three seasons of excavations and survey completed so far (Insoll et al. 2004, 2005). The primary aims of this research are various and include:

• To reconstruct the sequence of occupation in the Tongo Hills.
• To obtain ceramics that could be compared to those recovered from excavations previously completed in Gambaga, the capital of Mamprugu and currently being prepared for publication (Kense 1992; K. Fowler pers. comm.).
• To evaluate varying perceptions of landscape as manifest by different interest groups, ages, and genders.
• To evaluate the archaeology of African traditional religions through excavation in extant shrines and via recording of other aspects of Tallensi material culture.

Answers to these research objectives are of course only partial and preliminary. But by way of brief summary, excavations in a rock shelter, Gbegbeya Veug (Hyena’s Cave) have provided stratified quartz lithic assemblages without accompanying ceramics (Insoll et al. 2005). This is seemingly indicative of occupation of the Tongo Hills during the Late Stone Age but this occupation as yet remains undated. Obviously, no connection can be or is postulated with the Tallensi for this period. This point is significant for Tallensi oral tradition describes a two-fold division of their society of seemingly comparatively recent origin, with the Talis as the autochthonous inhabitants of the area who, “sprung from the earth itself” (Fortes 1987:43). In contrast, the Namoos, the inhabitants of Tongo, a settlement just northeast of the Tongo Hills, trace their origins to Mamprugu. The latter is an area (and a chiefdom) associated with the Mamprusi ethnic group, situated about thirty kilometres southeast of the Tongo Hills, and on top of the Gambaga Escarpment (see Fig. 1) (Drucker-Brown 1975; Kankpeyeng 2001:23).

The migration of the Namoos and postulated Mamprugu connections in the traditions give rise to the second research objective outlined above. But when exactly this migration occurred is difficult to reconstruct. Archaeology can contribute little until the comparative ceramics analysis made feasible by the large assemblage of ceramics recovered during the recent excavations is complete (see below; Ashley 2006). Fortes (1987:43) records that local traditions suggest the immigration from Mamprugu occurred some fourteen to fifteen generations ago (presumably with a base line of the 1930s–1940s, the era of his primary field research), which perhaps could be construed as constituting a three-hundred-year time-span, allowing twenty years per generation, and thus providing a date of circa the mid-seventeenth century. However, this should be treated with caution.

This paper primarily relates to the final research objective, i.e., the archaeological manifestation of African traditional religions with particular reference here to shrines, but it also connects with the third objective in challenging assumptions that can underpin the meaning of concepts such as ‘nature’ in archaeological interpretation (Insoll 2007a).

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SHRINES, ARCHAEOLOGY, AND THE L ANDSCAPE

Shrines dominate the landscape of the Tongo Hills. This domination operates both conceptually in the importance accorded the shrines by the Tallensi, and also practically in the restrictions imposed on their access, which impinges upon the landscape as a whole. In this context it is important to note, before proceeding further, that besides the formal research clearance obtained from the official Ghanaian state research agencies and their representatives, shrine access was also negotiated both with the relevant local communities and with the shrines and their custodians, primarily via the agency of sacrifice.

Innumerable shrines exist in the Tongo Hills, but three shrines dominate: Tonna’ab/Yaane, Bonaab, and Nyoo. Of these Nyoo is perhaps of primary interest to the archaeologist, as shall become apparent, it being a large ‘sacred grove’ functioning as an earth shrine and of further significance in being used annually as a dancing ground at some point from late February to early April during the pre-agricultural Gologo or Golib festival (Fortes 1987:34; Kankpeyeng 2001:26). It is also, seemingly, the shrine that has been most neglected by other observers, in favour of either Tonna’ab/Yaane (e.g., Allman and Parker 2005), or Bonaab (Fortes 1969). In terms of function of the other two major shrines, Tonna’ab, a rock shelter, is described as “paramount among the earth shrines” by Kankpeyeng (2001:24) but as one of the “great ancestor shrines” or “bo’a” by Allman and Parker (2005:80). Notwithstanding this major difference in opinion as to function, Tonna’ab is of importance as a shrine that abhors evil, is good at identifying witches (Allman and Parker 2005:6), and is both benevolent and curative (Kankpeyeng 2001:24), especially with regard to infertility; hence, its power is widely recognized, and thus it is a shrine that is extensively ‘franchised’ via the movement of powerful objects such as lithics associated with the shrine (Insoll 2006). Bonaab, however, is essentially another sacred grove and a shrine that is understood to have “benevolent, protective and curative” properties (Kankpeyeng 2001:24).

These shrines represent the two primary strands of Tallensi religion, as described by Fortes (1987), i.e., the earth and ancestral cults. Ancestral worship functions on various levels. Each segment of a Talis composite clan has a lineage shrine to distinguish it from other segments and to which they sacrifice individually (Fortes 1967:6). Contrasting with this, groups of maximal lineages belonging to different clans (but not necessarily united by ties of clanship) collaborate “in the cult of their collective ancestors” (Fortes 1967:6) via joint sacrifice. Materially, the ancestral cult is represented by the ancestral shrine, which can be manifest in various ways, as a household shrine, or in an external shrine such as a sacred grove or cave (Kankpeyeng 2001), but involving ritual practices that have no specialist priests (Fortes 1987:150). The latter, however, are specifically involved in the earth cult, for this is linked with specialist priests, the Tendaana, the “custodian of the earth” (Fortes 1987:43), and is materially manifest through sacred places, ten, within which are located the earth shrines, tengbana, which the priests serve.

Permission was granted for all three shrines, Nyoo, Tonna’ab, and Bonaab, to be surveyed to varying degrees. The potential for the application of archaeology in further understanding Tallensi shrines was immediately evident, for the results obtained via a survey within Nyoo were striking, as initially, both at a distance and walking within it, the Nyoo shrine seemed like a natural place – albeit a denuded sacred grove. But this was not so, for far-spreading archaeological vestiges visible on the surface clearly indicated that this was in fact an extensive enshrined archaeological site divided into a series of different zones. These included a ‘field’ of standing stones, an area of stone arrangements with an associated spread of pottery covering some three hundred metres east to west, and an active sacrificial area lacking such overt archaeological features. Furthermore, test excavations completed in 2005 confirmed that this was not a ‘natural’ sacred grove with, for example, the pottery spread seen to be formed of both complete pottery vessels and shards that had been forced into the ground to a maximum depth of thirty centimetres, and thus seemingly representative of an act of structured ‘ritual’ deposition (Insoll et al. 2005).

Hence Nyoo was made the focus of two large area excavations completed in July 2006 and undertaken in order to better understand what was represented by these spreads of archaeological material within the shrine, and to further assess whether they had any connection with contemporary Tallensi ritual practices.

NYOO 06 (A). The first of these units was assigned the code NYOO 06 (A) and measured 8m x 4m (N10º40'31.0" W000º48'39.2"). As observed in the 2005 test pit (NYOO 05 [A]), only shallow archaeological layers were encountered with a maximum depth of ca.15–20 cm before sterile deposits were reached. This noted, the matrix that was removed was densely filled with archaeological material, predominantly shards, many from complete vessels apparently broken in situ, but also containing an assemblage of 35 lithic objects comprising predominantly stone grinder–pounder–rubbers, both fragmentary, and complete, but also lumps of quartz. Five small pieces of both vitreous and tap slag, two iron points and one iron finger ring were also recovered. A definite increase in density in pottery present was also evident towards the southern end of the trench, i.e., where it incorporated the test pit, NYOO 05 (A), which had been almost wholly filled with pottery (Insoll et al. 2005) (see Fig. 2).

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Interspersed amongst the pot-filled deposits were seven stone arrangements (see Fig. 3). Originally, it was thought that these might represent cairns, but this idea was discarded on the basis that the stone arrangements were almost entirely composed of a single layer of stones. There was no significance apparent in the numbers of stones composing the arrangements, which ranged between 16 and 51. However, care had definitely been taken in the arrangements of the stones, possibly with some concern evident as to the colour-patterning of the aplite (fine-grained granite), Bongo granite, and schist present. The colours red, pink, black, and grey were noted, with white represented by smaller fragments of quartz frequently found, as well as by the banding in some of the granite. In so doing, this could potentially be a further manifestation of the oft-noted red–white–black colour symbolism evident in sub-Saharan Africa (Jacobsen-Widding 1979; Turner 1985).

Removal of the stone arrangements and excavation below one of these (SA 1) to a depth of 45 cm produced very little material in comparison to the infill between them – ‘Infill’ here being the right term to use, as it would appear that the pots were deposited after the stones had been arranged. The dates of neither the stone arrangements nor the pottery filled layer are known, pending the results of thermoluminescence dating in progress at the Oxford University Research Laboratory for Archaeology and the History of Art.

The precise function of the stone arrangements and pot infill is also unclear, though the oft-misused term ‘ritual’ (Insoll 2004) would here seem entirely justified. Working hypotheses can, however, be proposed. Firstly, the random arrangements of the shards in the infill layer and the inclusion of the smashed complete or nearly complete vessels would seem to preclude their description as potsherd pavements of the type found elsewhere in West Africa (e.g., Shaw 1978). At Ife in Nigeria, for instance, the shards forming the pavement were often set in the ground on their edge in herringbone designs (Shaw 1978), as opposed to the random patterning evident in Nyoo.

Rather, what might be represented by the ceramics (and other materials) in this feature at Nyoo are communal ritual activities, possibly even one deposition event involving a lot of people and pottery. Preliminary indications with regard to the pottery assemblage indicate little variability with a standard range of vessel types found (Ashley 2006), supporting the hypothesis that repeat deposition over a long period of time is not represented. The absence of any contextual difference also supports this idea of a single or at least a rapid deposition event. However, the gradation in density of pottery present (already remarked upon) indicates that a simplistic uniform infilling around the stone arrangements did not take place.

What the deposition of the pot and other materials might represent or be associated with is unclear. Various suggestions can be made, with perhaps the most compelling being that it might broadly function within the framework of commemorating or supplicating the ancestors or deceased, although the absence of funerary remains precludes a direct link with the dead. This interpretation would seem plausible based upon broad parallels elsewhere, less so, perhaps, with Tallensi practices today, but certainly reminiscent of, for instance, the Akan Asensie, or ‘place of pots’ (Bellis 1982) – a point qualified with the proviso that direct Akan connections are not being proposed, just generic parallels suggested. The deliberate destruction of some of the pots, with holes forced, bored, or chipped in their bases, for example, might support this association with the ancestors or deceased, an interpretation lent further weight by the results of the excavations in NYOO 06 (B) discussed below.

Furthermore, based upon observations of contemporary practices in Nyoo Biil, the shrine associated with the Golib festival, it is possible that the stone arrangements served as meeting or assembly places perhaps utilized during important rituals or festivals. Very similar stone arrangements are used in Nyoo Biil when each elder, chief, or priest has their specific known seating place on one of the stones. Such arrangements are also found outside some contemporary Tallensi compounds, as at the house of Yiran, the caretaker of Yaane. However, the previous hypothesis advanced (Insoll et al. 2005) that NYOO 05 (A) was part of a putative village site (and thus by inference so would NYOO 06 [A] have been) now seems much less probable based on the density of the stone arrangements, the absence of other domestic indicators (in comparison with the settlement site recorded during the survey and described above, for example), and the parallels with contemporary ritual sites just described.

Although it is unwise at this preliminary stage to advance too far in interpretation, it can again tentatively be suggested that, based on contemporary parallels, what might also be represented by the stone arrangements at Nyoo is the residue of movement, perhaps dance. Again, during the ritual activities observed at Nyoo Biil, dance around and between the stone arrangements was seen to be a key part of the Golib festival (see Fig. 4). That such activities might also have occurred in the area of stone arrangements excavated in Nyoo would not seem inconceivable considering the contemporary parallels with existing Tallensi practices.

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NYOO 06 (B). The second unit excavated was likewise placed adjacent to a test pit completed in 2005, NYOO 05 (A). This unit of 6 x 4 metres was situated within the area of Nyoo most densely clustered with standing stones so as to attempt to gain an insight into their meaning and purpose (N10º40'32.8" W000º48'39.8"). In total 12 clusters of either paired or single standing stones were recorded (see Fig. 5). Shallow surface cleaning of 1–2 centimetres depth almost immediately encountered groups of iron bracelets and points that had been placed adjacent to the standing stones. Ultimately, eight complete iron bracelets, seven iron bracelet fragments, one iron finger ring, five iron points, and two fragments of iron strip were recovered. The bracelets were almost uniformly of simple design and their presence was described as representing the interring of ‘personal gods’ associated with the dead, i.e., intimate personal possessions, possibly following the instructions of diviners to carry out such actions (R. Naatoam pers. comm.).

This would broadly concur with Fortes (1987:267) description of the notion of sii and its links with concepts of the person – personhood – and personal possessions. Specifically, “sii, therefore, in one of its aspects, is the focus, one might almost say the medium, of personal identity which is objectively represented in possessions characteristic of a person’s sex and status” (Fortes 1987:267). Such possessions as described by Fortes (1987) included the individual’s clothing, and for a woman her personal ornaments such as brass bracelets and beadwork, and for a man, his tools such as the hoe and axe, or bow and arrow. Iron bracelets would and could certainly constitute such a category of intimate personal possessions, of precise ontological status and association, even if we cannot go so far as to interpret which gender and/or age or initiation status might have been linked with these artefacts.

The function of, and meaning behind, the presence of the iron points is less immediately obvious. They could have served a variety of purposes, but based upon contemporary analogy and the context of discovery, they could also have been used for ritual purposes. This interpretation might be lent support by the ritual pots recovered beneath and adjacent to each of the standing stones (see below). An association between similar pots and iron points exists today in certain divining rituals, where the iron points are used as supports for the pots (H. Goldaan pers. comm.).

Interspersed with the iron objects were ceramic shards, and seven either fragmentary or complete granite or schist pounder–rubber–grinders and two white quartz lumps, as well as a small fragment of red ochre, and another of slag. Both the number of pounder–rubber–grinders found and the density of ceramics was less than that recorded in NYOO 06 (A), though the lithics and ceramics were otherwise of the same types. Considering the evidence from both NYOO 06 (A) and NYOO 06 (B) in totality, it would appear that distinct differences in ritual practice are indicated in the various areas of the Nyoo shrine. This is manifest both in the excavated materials recovered and in the surface features previously recorded.

This notion of differential ritual practices across Nyoo is lent further support by two pear-shaped clay objects, broken but still conjoining, which were uncovered in association with a complete pot (NYOO 06 [B] 4 – D4). The standing stone that this pot had almost certainly been associated with no longer survived, though some of its stone packing was still seemingly in place adjacent to and above the pot (see Fig. 8). These clay objects (or object, as they had been joined) had a hole in each of the two pear-shaped segments (see Fig. 9). Again, providing a precise interpretation as to what this object was used for is impossible, and opinions sought from community members varied, though generally consensus existed in that it was:

a) A ritual object.

b) Probably offered libation and/or sacrifice (hence the holes).

c) Functioned as a ‘personal god.’

That this object might have functioned within the context, perhaps, of fertility concerns or rituals would be entirely plausible, if unproven. Their actual shape, ‘pear-shaped,’ being a somewhat neutral description, is reminiscent of a pair of testicles, and, if correct, a fertility association would thus not seem unwarranted. Direct parallels have not been found, though Preston Blier (1987:48) refers to small earthern balls that are produced by the Batammaliba midwife following the birth of a child. These are made around the infant’s birth sack “as a symbol of the creative process” (Preston Blier 1987:119). No such meaning is proposed for the Nyoo object, and the latter is not even a ball shape, but it does indicate the ritual use of clay to produce generically similar ritual objects by a linguistically related group from Togo.

Ultimately from context NYOO 06 [B] 5, thirteen complete and one partially complete pots were recovered. Fourteen of these were left in situ, below and slightly adjacent to their standing stones, and in three other instances had been removed before this association had become clear, as described (see Fig. 5). Eleven of these vessels were capped with large potsherds forming a sort of lid, and the forms of the vessels varied, indicating that a uniform suite of material culture was not being ritually interred. Of the thirteen complete vessels left in situ, two were Short Collar Necked Jars (see Fig. 10), nine Flared Mouth Bowls, one a Spherical or Flared Mouth Bowl (the lid made precise attribution difficult), and one a Hemispherical Bowl. No trace of pits associated with the deposition of these pots was found and they were located at a depth (to the top of their lids or rims) from the ground surface of between 12 and 23.5 centimetres. The position of the pots in relation to the standing stones also varied and no meaningful cardinal orientation could be reconstructed, other than, perhaps, a certain propensity for a northern position.

The ritual nature of the deposits in this area of Nyoo was thus firmly indicated by the discovery of these pots – fact confirmed during a visit to NYOO 06 (B) by a group of Tallensi elders led by the Assemblyman, John Bawa Zuure. The ensuing discussion was useful for interpretive purposes in indicating that the specific associations between, for example, the iron bracelets, standing stones, and pots was unknown; they did not resemble contemporary practices, but the general meanings were that they were linked into negotiating destiny via the agency of ‘personal gods’ and functioned within the framework of ancestral worship, with perhaps the key point being that Nyoo should be considered as the great shrine for all the Tallensi, where worship started and spread from (J.B. Zuure pers. comm.). It could thus in effect be called a reservoir or nucleus of ritual practice and is broadly analogous to the notion of “symbolic reservoirs” as discussed by Sterner (1992:171–72; and see MacEachern 1994), but ‘symbol’ would here be translated into ‘ritual.’

Following the visit of the elders, and in accordance with local wishes, no further pots were removed, and the fourteen vessels left in situ were ultimately reburied when the site was backfilled. However, prior to backfilling in order to assess whether human burials at a greater depth were also associated with the pots and standing stones (this had been thought unlikely by the elders), a test pit was excavated. No archaeological material was recovered from below a depth of 40 centimetres (and no human remains), and only a few shards of pottery from above this, again demonstrating the shallow nature of deposits across the site.

Tonna’ab and Bonaab

Thus the archaeological importance of Nyoo was well attested to by the results of the excavations in clearly indicating complex ritual activities no longer practised within the shrine. Yet its past importance is at variance with its contemporary position in terms of, for example, external revenue generation, which is little or nothing in comparison to Tonna’ab and to a lesser extent Bonaab. As already noted, Tonna’ab is a source of considerable revenue, being known as “Nana Tongo” to southern, e.g., Akan, pilgrims (Allman and Parker 2005:154–63), for reasons described previously. However, Tonna’ab has, again in contrast to Nyoo, a much lesser archaeological fingerprint, being formed of a rock shelter with an associated range of ritual paraphernalia (see Fig. 11). Thus the complexity of the shrines is indicated in their evident differences, and in the fact that size does not necessarily correlate with greater importance. But the recurring element shared between Nyoo and Tongnaab (the situation in Bonaab is less clear for full access was not permitted to the central area of this shrine) is that both shrines involve relationships with the past, i.e., with archaeological sites and associated material culture.

This has already been described for Nyoo. At Tonna’ab such a relationship is evident in the use of the rock shelter as the shrine, part of a gallery of such shelters running along the low hill in which the shrine is situated. Within the rockshelter, the inclusion of, for example, a large thickly potted storage vessel, not of a type used today and linked with the ‘ancestors’ by general consent, again implies this relationship. This was also noted during a survey of the rock outcrop, Kudoro, southeast of Gbegbeya Veug – an outcrop surveyed for two reasons: firstly, because of its proximity to Hyena Cave with its possible early occupation evidence (see above), and, secondly, for its potential associations with the Golib Festival, Kudoro being located immediately behind the place occupied by the Santeng Tengdana for the duration of the festival. Of interest here is another shrine, Gobal (located at N10º40’14.8” W000º49’01.3”). Access to this shrine was restricted, and hence it could only be viewed from a distance, but the shrine itself was apparently formed of a rock-shelter set within a natural bowl-shaped ‘amphitheatre’ below the summit of Kudoro, the latter riddled with numerous rock shelters containing spreads of potsherds. Thus, if analogy with the latter is correct, it would seem that Gobal again represents the process of enshrining archaeological sites, in so doing indicating a complex awareness of the past and relationships therewith (Insoll 2006).

Similarly, in much smaller shrines, such as household shrines, lesser shrines associated with festivals, or purpose-specific shrines linked with medicinal or healing uses, recurrent potential relationships with archaeological materials were again noted. Such observations were gained from examining two shrines composed of portable lithic objects; a shrine associated with the Bo’araam harvest festival and formed of quartz spheres, which is located near the house of the caretaker of Tonna’ab, Yiran, and the other a shrine with medicinal properties incorporating various schist, possible grinding stones–pounders, at the entrance to the Bonaab sacred grove.

The question as to what degree human agency was involved in the production of the latter objects is intriguing, for at first sight these would all seem to be human-produced grinders–rubbers–pounders. However, a survey of the northeastern slopes of the Tongo Hills indicated that identical types of stones to these schist ‘grinders–rubbers–pounders’ are frequently seen scattered in fields and forming clearance boundaries at the base of the hills in such profusion that this would seem to preclude their human ‘origin’ (see Fig. 13). However, analysis of samples of these objects also recovered from the excavations in Nyoo is underway to address this issue. In contrast, the anthropogenic origin of the quartz spheres is seemingly much more certain (B. Baneong-Yakubo pers. comm.) but cannot be confirmed by microscopic analysis as ritual prohibitions do not allow their handling. Hence overall, it would again seem that the Earth and/or ancestors are ostensibly being appropriated via tangible material culture of possible archaeological provenance.

At Bonaab, the potential relationship between shrines, the past, and archaeological materials is more difficult to infer, not necessarily for its absence but because, as noted, access to the central area of the shrine was restricted in comparison to Nyoo (the easiest) and Tonna’ab. This was apparent in the prohibition, for example, on taking metal objects such as the survey equipment into this part of the shrine. Moreover, extraneous factors pertinent to archaeology complicate the issue with respect to Bonaab. Specifically, that as part of the aftermath of the British pacification of the Tongo Hills in 1911, the Bonaab shrine was destroyed using axes, fire, and dynamite (the latter unsuccessfully [Allman and Parker 2005:76–77]), the importance of this information being obviously that such destructive action would affect the archaeological record as well. Thus our understanding of Bonaab is much more incomplete, even if its botanical inventory has been surveyed (see below) and its perimeter planned.

DISCUSSION

This research into the archaeology of shrines in the Tongo Hills is potentially of a greater epistemological significance than that pertaining to its regional archaeological value alone. This perhaps grand-sounding claim is made in comparison to the archaeological study of other religions in Africa – Christianity (Finerran 1992) or Islam (Insoll 2003) – that of African traditional religions has been surprisingly neglected (De Maret 1994). Thus the archaeology of shrines, the focus of this paper, is little understood in comparison to, for instance, the development of the mosque in West Africa (Prussin 1986; Insoll 1996, 1999, 2003), or churches in Ethiopia and the Sudanese Nile Valley (Adams 1996; Phillipson 1998).

The suggested reasons for this lacuna are various and potentially include, for example, the correlation of written history with the archaeology of Islam and Christianity, their links (presumed at least) with external trade networks, and the often-greater (presumed at least) material imprint of their associated architectural traditions, etc., upon the archaeological record. To these can also be added the potential factor of an element of disinterest by many archaeologists in the material signatures and correlates of African traditional religions such as shrines, as opposed to material culture associated with world religions (Insoll 2001, 2003, 2004). Of course, some notable exceptions exist, as represented, for example, in West Africa by Nic David (e.g., David 1992) and Judith Sterner (e.g., Sterner 1992; and see David and Sterner this volume), and their students (e.g., Mather 1999, 2003; and see this volume). Similarly, relevant high-profile sites of shrines in West Africa, such as various locations in Ife (Garlake 1974; Willett 1967), have attracted archaeological attention, but in general it is reasonable to note that a state of neglect by archaeologists exists. Selected West African examples have been chosen here for it is the focus of this paper, but analogous points could equally be made for East Africa, as in the imbalance evident in archaeological research on Islam on the East African coast (e.g., Horton 1996; Horton and Middleton 2000), as opposed to the Kaya settlements and shrines of the coastal hinterlands (Mutoro 1994).

In interdisciplinary terms, this stands in contrast to the interests of anthropologists where the study of shrines in African traditional religions have been given a much greater prominence (e.g., Awolalu 1979; Goody 1959; Morris 2000; Zahan 1974). This is something archaeologists, both those working in sub-Saharan Africa and elsewhere, could do well to heed. For the insights gained from understanding the processes by which shrines are created, franchised, evolve, mutate, or are neglected or reactivated, for instance, have a resonance across large parts of the archaeological record, both temporally and geographically. Similarly, as one of us has recently discussed (Insoll 2006, 2007a), the marrying of insights gained from archaeology to the fortunate position of situating interpretation within relevant living religious traditions and ritual practices as of those of the Tallensi can lead to the necessary questioning of interpretive assumptions in relation to the presumed existence of universal concepts such as ‘nature’ (Insoll 2007b) or universal notions of materiality.

For the latter, the prominence accorded rock within Tallensi notions of materiality has been recently explored, and it was seen to be a material of special power and significance (Insoll 2006). This was evident in:

1. The potential importance ascribed rock as a direct product of the Earth.
2. The pre-eminent role accorded to rock shelters such as the Tonna’ab shrine.
3. The use of rock within shrine-franchising processes seemingly as a physical link to places of power, and potentially as an initiator of this power.
4. The seeming absence of rock art as a possible means to avoid altering the rock.
5. The recurrence of rock in ritual contexts such as shrines.

This in turn was suggested as of possible analogical value (Insoll 2006:233– 36), albeit indirectly, for understanding how shrines were franchised and created in the Neolithic of the British Isles. As represented, perhaps, by the inclusion of ‘exotic’ rocks within the famous sites of Stonehenge (the Welsh sourced bluestones [Bradley 2000:95]) or by the quartz from the Dublin/Wicklow Mountains used at Knowth and Newgrange in the Republic of Ireland (Cooney 2000:136).

Further important data on the importance of rock in shrine-creation processes was also gathered during the recent excavations in Nyoo, as an adjunct to which a full survey of the standing stones previously mentioned was completed. This survey encompassed both mapping the positions of the 143 whole or fragmentary stones recorded and identifying their petrography and provenance. What this indicated was that a variety of locally available rock types were being used in the production of the standing stones. These included Bongo granite, amphibole-chlorite schist, metachert, and Leocratic granite (Baneong-Yakubo et al. 2006). Initially, it was thought that, excluding the Bongo granite, these rocks had been brought into the Nyoo shrine from significant distances. However, survey of the northeastern down slope of the Tongo Hills, already referred to, indicated that these rock types, though not seemingly immediately available on the plateau, were being sourced from the slopes of the Tongo Hills as well as, potentially, the lowlands below. This is of interest for a statement was obviously being made not only through the erection of the standing stones themselves but also through the materials they were made of, i.e., not only the Bongo granite immediately to hand. What the potential significance of this may have been, though, is not known, for such standing stones are not erected in the Tongo Hills today and thus any specific associations that might have existed with specific rock types have been lost.

Similarly, the ‘unnatural’ constitution of the botanical inventory of the supposedly ‘natural’ shrines was also of interest and again holds potentially far-reaching interpretive implications for archaeology. A recurrent pattern indicated by survey was that all the shrines considered, Bonaab, Nyoo, and Tonna’ab, to varying degrees, were far from unaltered places (Insoll 2007a). For instance at Bonaab the ethnobotanical survey indicated that this was a ‘natural’ sacred grove only insofar as the expected dominant tree species Anogeissus leiocarpus was present (Abbiw 2005). But this is also a species extensively used for fuel wood and making charcoal. Hence, although prohibitions exist on exploiting trees at Bonaab today, we do not know if such prohibitions existed in the past and thus Anogeissus might have been encouraged to grow for this purpose, and remains today as a vestige of such arboriculture (Insoll 2007a).

Likewise at Nyoo, besides the presence of the obvious archaeological remains, the ‘natural’ element of this ‘sacred grove’ was further diluted once the botanical inventory was completed. Here, in contrast to Bonaab and Tonna’ab, the dominant species were Detarium microcarpum (Tallow tree), Annona senegalensis (Wild Custard Apple), and Combretum ghasalense. Furthermore, almost without exception, the trees, shrubs, and plants present had been interfered with by human action (D. Abbiw pers. comm.) and were there because humans allowed them to be. Their presence was not due to natural ‘selection’ or activity as such, and those trees and shrubs that survived were there primarily because they also have some useful purpose (Insoll 2007a).

At Tonna’ab, natural vegetation does exist, but it is primarily there because of prohibitions on the exploitation of the trees in the vicinity of the shrine. This means that its surroundings are protected and the vegetation present can be classified as Edaphic Climax and is not human-altered (Abbiw 2005). It did not suffer the same fate as Bonaab, surviving in its ‘natural’ form as it was unknown to the British (see Allman and Parker 2005:80). Thus the dominant tree surrounding the shrine is Bombax buonopozense (Red-flowered Silk Cotton tree), along with Diospyros mespiliformis (West African Ebony) and Trychoscypha arborea (Abbiw 2005) – in its preservation it becomes almost what could be described as ‘monumental’ in an area otherwise heavily exploited (Insoll 2007a).

Here the wider archaeological resonance lies in the obvious questions raised as to the ‘natural’ status of shrines such as sacred groves elsewhere. This, for instance, is relevant in interpretation in relation to Iron Age Europe, where, although archaeological testimony for sacred groves might be absent, their use is attested in various Classical sources, and therefore we have to recognize their existence and consider such issues. Cunliffe (1997:198), for example, notes that designated sacred locations were known as nemeton (from the Gallo-Brittonic term meaning “sacred clearing in a wood or grove”). Sacred forests, groves, caves, and wells, are often classified as ‘natural’ and hence deliberately juxtaposed with built places. Instead, it could be posited, based upon the Tallensi case study, that our divisions between human and ‘natural’ may perhaps often be too simple (Insoll 2007a), certainly with regard to shrines and sacred places, and we might thus need to revisit our concepts and assumptions in this respect (and see Insoll 2007b for others).

A further area of interest in which some more general observations based upon the Tongo Hills shrines can be offered surrounds ethnicity. Lentz (2000:156) has indicated how ethnicity can alter over time in northern Ghana, literally how ethnic identities are “varied, ambiguous and changeable,” and there are hints that this might be so in the Tongo Hills as well. As has been described, John Bawa Zuure made the key point that Nyoo should be considered as the great shrine for all the Tallensi, where worship started and spread from, and in the context of the Golib festival it certainly functions as the meeting place of all the Talis. The material indicators of ritual in Nyoo might also offer an insight into the construction of ethnicity as well.

Relevant here are the results of a test excavation completed by one of the authors, Kankpeyeng, at the site of Kusanaab, which according to local tradition (and as is indicated by the name) was linked with the Kusasi ethnic group (see Mather this volume), neighbours of the Tallensi. This thus represents a Kusasi area of settlement in the Tongo Hills, i.e., in what is Tallensi land today, and although now abandoned, shrines located in caves on the hill close to the Kusanaab site are still the focus of periodic rituals completed by Kusasi. Also of interest is the fact that the test excavations were completed at a standing stone similar to those recorded at Nyoo but which also differed from the latter in that a cluster of large potsherds, more reminiscent of the infill at NYOO 06 A was recorded placed around the standing stone (see Fig. 14), rather than the single ritual pots and iron bracelets associated with the standing stones, as has been described, in NYOO 06 (B). Hence, both similarities and differences are evident in ritual practices between Kusanaab and Nyoo, but with a greater emphasis on similarity. Does this also hold implications for tracing the development of ethnicities, of ‘proto’ Tallensi and ‘proto’ Kusasi via shrines and the material culture of ritual practices in the future?

CONCLUSIONS

The discussion has deliberately been left open, for this paper is far from being a final statement about the archaeology of shrines among the Tallensi but rather should be considered a preliminary outline. As research proceeds and further data are collected, it is hoped that both the more specific research questions and the broader issues surrounding concept and interpretation will become better understood. What is clear, however, is that the archaeology of shrines potentially offers an insight into many aspects of past lives not directly connected with ritual practice, for shrines seem to serve as a repository of information on social processes of much wider import, be it in relation to land use and resource utilization, materiality, or ethnicity.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Timothy Insoll would like to thank the British Academy for funding the fieldwork, the Ghana Museums and Monuments Board for granting permission for the research to take place, and his co-directors, Dr. Benjamin Kankpeyeng, and Dr. Rachel MacLean for their insights and assistance. He would also like to thank Dr. Bruce Baneong-Yakubo, Dr. Ceri Ashley, Gertrude Abba, Alex Burnard, Simone Davies, Rachel Goodall, Samuel Kizitou, Malik Mahmoud, Richard Plangue Rhule, Abbas Iddrisu, Francis Yin, Eric Yin, Hanson Goldaan, Roger Naatoam for assistance in the field, along with that of all the other local guides, workmen, and informants. Thanks are also extended to the staff of the Upper East Regional Museum, especially Ms Prisca Yenzie, for their co-operation, and to the people of Tongo-Tenzug for their hospitality and patience in allowing the research to proceed.

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