Between two fires: Turkana chiefs in the colonial ‘contact zone’

ABSTRACT

Drawing on archival material, supplemented by oral history interviews done in Turkana in 2018 and oral history work by Lamphear from the mid-1970s, this article investigates the different dilemmas and challenges faced by the chiefs in Turkana District during the colonial occupation from the 1910s to 1963. Through the lens of Pratt’s ‘contact zone,’ I show how two Turkana chiefs, Abong and Ekadille, acted as both colonial agents and legitimate local leaders simultaneously, and how they navigated the peculiar space between the colonial government and their local communities. Chiefs like Abong mastered this space, leveraging the colonial structure to advance their agendas. Negotiating local and colonial demands posed a delicate balance, often conflicting with their communities’ interests. Chiefs faced life-and-death loyalty choices when enforcing colonial measures contrary to local practices. Abong, backed by colonial support, strengthened both the administration and himself. In contrast, Ekadille dealt with a rebellious community and insufficient colonial backing. Both chiefs shaped the chieftaincy structure through actions and dialogs with European officers and their communities. This dynamic process reflected their different backgrounds, resulting in diverse outcomes. The article underscores how these chiefs adeptly operated within the colonial framework, influencing Turkana's power dynamics in distinct ways.

KEYWORDS:

• Kenya
• Turkana
• colonial administration
• chiefs
• local agency
• pastoralism

Turkana District in northern Kenya has been seen as one of the most remote and defiant regions of the colony, necessitating closure and stern military administration. Yet this article analyzing the careers of two Turkana chiefs demonstrates that even here colonial rule rested on negotiation rather than conquest and military might. From 1924 to 1945 Chief Abong became one of the most powerful men in colonial Turkana and an integral part of the colonial administration. He catered to the British administrators, furthered their agenda, and in turn saw his influence rise. Chief Ekadille was in different circumstances; his chieftaincy was marked by the necessary balancing act between the unruly communities over which he presided and the British administrators. This article focuses on the personal experiences and stories of these two men and the areas in which they held influence. The article however shows more than their individual stories, it shows the contested colonial structure and how chiefs and local communities were in constant positioning vis-á-vis the colonial government. It also highlights the role of colonial chiefs in pastoral semi-nomadic groups.

The literature generally stresses the egalitarian and stateless nature of East African pastoralists, and assumes that colonial chiefs in East African pastoral societies were of little importance and had little power; this article nuances these stands.¹ Nomadic societies might have been chiefless, but they were not leaderless, the Karimojong communities, to which the Turkana belong, had well-established economic and political networks and hierarchies before colonization.² This article straddles the negotiations between established leadership structures and new colonial ones by showing how the chiefs in Turkana were both instrumental for the colonial administration in its attempt to rule the vast and scarcely populated area, and how they held real influence in Turkana communities not only as a result of colonial backing but also because of their shrewd ability to navigate the realms of both the Turkana and the British.

In 1999 Nieuwaal and Dijk asserted that ‘The study of chieftaincy in Africa is currently facing something of a loss of paradigm.’³ In hindsight, I would argue that the study of African chieftaincy has been on a trajectory of increasing complexity and nuancing. The groundbreaking work of Hobsbawm and Ranger from 1983, on the ‘invention of tradition,’ ushered in a decade of academic research on how colonial inventions of African tradition, law and ethnicity, ‘froze’ African societies in the images of their European colonizers.⁴ In Mamdani’s seminal 1996 Citizen and Subject, African chiefs are understood to have extensive, almost absolute, powers vis-à-vis the colonial subjects, ruling their areas with the authority of a ‘clenched fist’.⁵ Here the power of the colonial structure is on full display, with Mamdani highlighting the integral role of the chief as the face of decentralized despotism; he describes the power of the chief: ‘to the peasant, the person of the chief signifies power that is total and absolute, unchecked and unrestrained.’⁶ However, these understandings of chieftaincy were evolving; from the 1990s scholars increasingly emphasized the limits of colonial invention and contested the nature of colonial hegemony.⁷ These new thoughts instead focused on African agency in negotiating, co-creating and shaping colonial structures and colonial society. This scholarly movement is ongoing, in recent years several publications have dealt with customary authority; complicating and broadening our understanding of it.⁸

This article is rooted in this increasingly nuanced understanding of the colonial encounter and customary authority. It complicates and nuances the colonial encounter and the role of Turkana chiefs. Previous scholarship on the colonial encounter in Turkana has highlighted the fierce resistance to colonial rule and largely focused on military activities and raiding.⁹ This is a seemingly natural product of the colonial archive, which is largely concerned with military and policing activities. However, with this article, I broaden our understanding of colonialism in Turkana and take seriously the colonial encounter which also occurred in Turkana despite the very thin colonial presence. To facilitate this analysis, I draw on Pratt’s concept of ‘the contact zone’ and its latest developments within colonial and cultural studies. The concept has been used widely since the early 1990s in many genres.¹⁰ The term conceptualizes and opens the analysis of encounters between radically different groups, emphasizing the interactive, fluid, and unpredictable dimensions of the colonial settings. Aspects of the colonial encounter in Turkana which has remained largely unexplored. The focus on interactivity and fluidity is extended to identity formation; where the approach emphasizes the continual production and reproduction of the identity of the involved actors. Importantly Pratt emphasizes the ‘asymmetrical relations of power’ in which these processes take place.¹¹ Certainly, the Colonial Officer and the Turkana chief did not possess the same forcible means or platform for engagement with one another. Without ignoring this obvious fact, however, Pratt’s concept enables an analysis of chieftaincy in Turkana which goes beyond a simple dichotomy of resistance and collaboration. I use the ‘contact zone’ concept to emphasize the emergence of a colonial space of negotiations, interactions, and reciprocal interchange, a space which is largely understudied and often overlooked in favor of histories focusing on military and resistance struggles in Turkana. Focusing on colonial encounters and negotiations in Turkana is a break with previous research and might seem counterintuitive; the area was, together with much of the rest of the Northern Frontier District, a colonial backwater, largely ignored and very loosely administered. There were no white settlers, no missionary activity, and no earnest attempts at developing production, farming or industry of any kind. A sharp contrast to the strict colonial government of the ‘white highlands’ and its border areas in central Kenya, which radically altered the life and livelihoods of ordinary Africans.¹² This has been reflected in the literature where the civil colonial administration in Turkana remains understudied. A key argument here is that there was a colonial space for encounters and negotiations despite Turkana’s remote character and the limited civil administration and that these circumstances produced a colonial environment unlike those of the central highlands, and to a large degree left the Turkana chiefs with more agency and room to maneuver than their Kikuyu or Kamba counterparts. Thus, this article is not only a contribution to the historiography of colonial Kenya, but also to the wider literature on colonial administration of pastoral and semi-nomadic peoples, and the agency of Africans in colonial service.

This article is based on archival material, supplemented by oral history interviews and fieldwork done in Turkana in 2018, as well as oral history interviews done by Lamphear in the mid-1970s. As the colonial era is now fading from living memory in Turkana and no indigenous written record exists, I have had to rely extensively on colonial documents. This naturally raises a number of concerns surrounding colonial bias, representation, motivations, power relations, discourses, cultural racism, misunderstandings, inaccuracies, etc. For decades historians have read colonial records ‘against the grain’ in order to critically engage with these issues and access indigenous voices, life worlds, and societies through the colonial archive.¹³ Indeed Spear urges that the historian does not abandon colonial sources but engage critically with them, seeing the potential in alternative and critical readings.¹⁴ I have applied these methodologies; critically reading the colonial archive, piecing together fragmented glimpses into Turkana society to flesh out the lives and dilemmas of Turkana chiefs.

The administration of Turkana

The area inhabited by the Turkana was in flux from the early nineteenth century and until the 1910s when Turkana communities expanded onto lands colonized by the British. At this point the core Turkana area was borderd by the Karamoja escarpment in west, what would later be known as Lake Turkana into the east, the Loriontom ranges in the north and Suguta valley to the south; approximately 68,000 km². Additional Turkana communities were found further south, east, and on the eastern shores of Lake Turkana as well. The Turkana area is very hot and dry, it consists of low-lying plains, plateaus of volcanic rocks and mountain formations. These dry landscapes are intersected by the Turkwell and Kerio rivers which together with other smaller scattered water sources creates a stark contrast of lush ravine forests, grasslands and swamps. These oases together with the seasonal rains in November and March–June are crucial for the productivity of the landscape and the livelihood of the Turkana, who live as seminomadic pastoralists herding cows, camels, sheep, goats and donkeys in seasonal patterns.

The establishment of colonial rule in the Kenyan highlands pitted the British against the Turkana, as their continuous raids on their southern and western neighbors jeopardized the legitimacy of colonial rule. In the 1910s the British mounted several large military expeditions to break the fighting spirit of the Turkana, however, they did not succeed. Instead the destruction and poverty they brought drove young men, whose livestock had been confiscated, into a semi-permanent raiding party, the Ruru, led by charismatic war leaders and diviners such as Ebei and Loolel Kokoi, who fiercely resisted colonial rule.¹⁵ Lamphear estimates that 14 percent of the Turkana died during the British campaigns, proportionally much greater losses than those suffered by Germany during the Second World War.¹⁶ As the colonial armies pacified the Turkana warriors, the campaigns left the Turkana and their herds decimated and vulnerable. In the 1920s the Turkana continued to disregard colonial orders, especially in the north-west where bands of raiders hid from the administration and established themselves outside the law.¹⁷

In 1926 Northern Turkana was transferred from Uganda to The Colony of Kenya. However, Turkana remained divided; Southern Turkana got civil administration in 1927 while Northern Turkana continued to be under military administration. The different administrative structures had resulted in different administrative policies; where British East Africa sought to subjugate the south Turkana through violent expeditions and cattle confiscations, Uganda had followed a less confrontational course, generally avoiding conflict in the north. It was not until 1933 that Northern and Southern Turkana were merged into a single district with one administrative headquarter, however even then the district was not uniformly administered, as The King’s African Rifles maintained stations in Northern Turkana, and in effect ruled the area with force. Turkana District was the largest in the colony, yet one of the least prioritized by the British. Restrictions were put in place to limit travel into the area and government administration in Turkana was minimal. Visitors should apply for access permits and they were strongly discouraged.¹⁸ Colonial personnel in the district were very limited. There were generally between 8 and 14 Europeans in the district; 4 administrative officers, 3 military officers, and 1 medical officer. With only 4 officers the colonial administration had a very limited reach in terms of physical presence¹⁹ In practical terms the administration was conducted by officers undertaking safaris to the various parts of the district, often by camel or donkey. During a safari, the officer would hold one or more barazas, a meeting attended by the officer, the local chief or headman, and the local communities. Additionally, officers would settle local disputes and collect taxes. Major focus points for the safaris undertaken during the early period of colonial administration were to establish first contact with communities to facilitate their administration, appoint chiefs and headmen, collect tax, map areas, or negotiate peace or the cessation of ‘illegal’ activities.²⁰ The colonial administration in Turkana had very limited resources at its disposal. The economic constraints of the administration significantly affected the ability to effectively perform the duties of government.²¹ For this reason, the chiefs and headmen of Turkana were scarcely supervised and thus had a large degree of freedom to act in their localities, a situation which at times led the colonial officers to worry that they were becoming too powerful.²²

Appointing the first chiefs

The Turkana did not inherently have chiefs or a strong organized central leadership; this meant that the British administrators had to select chiefs to set up indirect rule. Generally, the chief was the highest local authority, and to his aid, a number of headmen were employed. However, the colonial sources are not consistent in using these two titles thus the same person is often referred to as a chief, only later to be referred to as being a headman. The Turkana are subdivided into moieties or ‘territorial sections’. These sections of the Turkana could have been rather arbitrarily created on minor differences in ornamentation by administrators to facilitate their administration. In the early 1950s, the British anthropologist P. H. Gulliver reported that they were not present in the conscience of the Turkana, and called them a ‘functionless form’.²³ The degree to which these sections have no internal meaning to the Turkana is still somewhat debated, perhaps they are not as functionless as Gulliver imagined, or perhaps they have come to acquire meaning since the early 1950s.²⁴ The sections varied in size and minor cultural differences between the sections occurred; however, the sections were far from stable, and intermarriage and crossover were not uncommon. In Turkana, the appointment of chiefs and headmen generally followed these sections, and each section had its own chief and several headmen. However, there were irregularities, and at times one section could have two or more chiefs.

There was only one chief listed in Southern Turkana in 1926 which clearly shows that the British administration was still in its infancy and had yet to establish civil contact with many of the Turkana communities.²⁵ In 1976 a Turkana recounted to Lamphear how the British, when entering an area would round up the people, sometimes raiding their livestock in the process. Then the British would make the people sign a treaty and select a chief among themselves. As people would seldom elect a chief, the officers would pick one whom they saw fit, force him to wear Western clothes immediately, and bring him gifts to secure his loyalty.²⁶

The British would often select based on physical appearance or perceived power within a community, this often led to the selection of former war leaders, who knew little of administration and had little knowledge of the hieratical structure of the colonial system. Also, people who had been in contact with Swahili traders were often selected based on their understanding of the outside world.²⁷ Chieftaincy was often forced upon individuals, who did not understand the structure, nor were they interested in serving the British. As a result, the men forced into chieftaincy did very little or nothing at all. Many of the newly appointed Turkana headmen tried to avoid contact with the British. An atmosphere of distrust existed between the chiefs and headmen, and the British administration.²⁸ Frequently British officers commented on the lack of activity and trustworthiness of the Turkana, and in return, the Turkana remained suspicious and resentful toward the new administration.²⁹ Chiefs and headmen often had to be brought to barazas by force. In 1928 the Prince of Wales visited Kenya, and on that occasion, a few chiefs from Northern Turkana were invited to Nairobi to meet with the prince. However, en route, while still in Turkana, a chief fearing for his life in the hands of the British fled the convoy and went into hiding in the hills.³⁰ Illustrating the deep mistrust that many Turkana felt toward the British. For the Turkana being transported outside of the district by the British was the same as a death sentence.

Chieftaincy was also used as a strategic political tool; I find it clear that the British tried to co-opt rebellious leaders and dissident warlords by buying their loyalty, in order to ensure the compliance of unruly sections. In 1928 the northern ‘outlaw’ Ekal was ‘persuaded’ during a meeting with the District Commissioner (DC), after which he was paid as a chief for years to come.³¹ The source says nothing of concrete promises made to Ekal, however, the gains to be had on both sides of such a bargain are large enough that ‘buying’ rebellious leaders with the privileges associated with chieftaincy would have been lucrative for both parties. Turkana leaders could easily have accepted the privileges offered by the British only to disregard the obligations that the position entailed, e.g. the responsibility for tax collection and the enforcement of colonial policy. Supervision with the chiefs was minimal and as we shall see there are several examples of chiefs who blatantly disregarded the orders and principles of the British administration.

In the last decades of colonialism, the number of chiefs in Turkana seems to have been relatively stable at around 25. Turkana District was approximately 77,000 km², which equates to roughly 3100km² per chief. Now, the chiefs were not geographically distributed, they were assigned to specific ‘territorial sections’. This structure meant that every chief was responsible for anywhere between 5000 and 25,000 people spread over a vast area. The nomadic lifestyle of the Turkana and the fluidity of the sections must have made it practically impossible for the chiefs to maintain regular lines of communication with all the awis and many herders could have gone for years without contact with ‘their’ chief or headman. The tasks of the chiefs were to keep their section from trespassing and raiding, enforce government orders such as grazing control, provide labor for public works, and most importantly; facilitate tax collection. The chiefs were given no training to prepare them for these tasks.

Chieftaincy in Turkana was a constant balancing act of retaining the trust and legitimacy of the local community while performing colonial duties to a level that appeased the administration. Simply put the chiefs and headmen were caught between two fires. Marshall S. Clough points to a similar dynamic being at play among other Kenyan chiefs in the highlands. As he accurately puts it, the complex task of the chiefs was ‘to gain the attention of the British administration; win and hold popular support; and defeat, incorporate, or neutralize regional and local political rivals.’³² Keeping this balance on the plains of Turkana demanded a lot of human skill and refined diplomacy.³³ Chiefs could not simply have forced their will upon local communities, they needed legitimacy in their local communities in order to retain their position and be effective leaders.³⁴ This dialectical process of negotiation between the colonial administration, the local chief, and the local community is at the heart of the dilemmas of this colonial contact zone. To a degree, the chiefs were brokers, who mediated between two different modes of thought, but they were not mere translators or messengers, as previously thought.³⁵ The dichotomy between the colonial and the African should not be overemphasized.³⁶ These were not separate spheres but interlocked and influenced each other reciprocally in the space that constituted the contact zone.

In the following I will use the cases of two prominent Turkana chiefs to show the complexity of navigating the colonial structures; and their peculiar place between the colonial administration and the herders.

‘Abong towers alone’

In the 1920s and 1930s, Abong of the Ngibelai section rose to be the most influential person in Turkana and a cornerstone in the colonial administration. Abong became chief after his father, Achuka, when he died in 1924. Achuka was the first Turkana to peacefully make contact with the British administration as he approached the Collector of Baringo District, Geoffrey Archer, in 1904 seeking protection from the Abyssinians. Together with his son, Achuka had been an agent for Swahili traders at the turn of the century. They acted as guides for the Swahili caravans trading in ivory, ironware, shells, small stock, and cattle. Being strategically positioned in the southern parts of the Turkana area they became the gateway into Turkana for the Swahili traders and succeeded in establishing an extensive trade network. In addition to the wealth acquired through trading, Achuka learned Kiswahili and became accustomed to dealing with strangers; these skills were essential for successful contact with the British. Archer granted Achuka and his followers grazing and protection in Baringo and in turn received taxes and loyalty. The following year Archer pushed tax collection further north into the areas that would later become Turkana District; a move largely facilitated by Achuka who became the first chief in Turkana.³⁷ In Turkana oral tradition Achuka became ‘the one who brought the British into this land.’³⁸ He was efficient as chief, collected taxes, seemed to have had real influence over his people, and he was a loyal servant of the British. Allegedly he personally accompanied the 1915 expedition which killed more than 400 Turkana and confiscated 157,000 animals in northern Turkana, many of these animals were handed over to Achuka and his followers. In 1919 the aging Achuka began handing over more responsibility to Abong; however, he remained the most influential chief in Turkana until his death. His power and influence were founded on his cooperation with the British, he supported them, made sure his section was paying taxes, and provided information and council, and in turn, they rewarded him with confiscated stock from the northern sections and fought his rivals. Achuka had no claim to divine powers, nor was he a war leader, but as these traditional authorities were pushed out of southern Turkana by the British, Achuka seized the opportunity and filled the power vacuum left by leaders such as Ebei and Loolel Kokoi.³⁹

This was the legacy and the position Abong inherited. As the youngest of Achuka’s sons, he was brought up in the environment of the chief’s awi. Abong was ready to fill the position of his father and just two years after he assumed the position the colonial administrator writes: ‘Occasionally some individual reaches great dominance by his force of character. The only person of this type is Abong of Southern Turkana.’⁴⁰ Clearly, Abong was making himself known and lending his strong support to the colonial administration right from the start. He also seems to have had a strong influence on his people; in February 1927 Assistant DC G. Reece wrote: ‘ … the people of Chief Abong attended barazas readily and the majority of them paid hut and poll tax without giving the least trouble.’⁴¹ This is remarkable as 1926 was a very turbulent year, both for Abong and for Turkana as a whole. After the defeat of the Ruru in 1924 the Great Diviner Loolel Kokoi had been coopted by the British administration and made ‘paramount’ chief in the Kakuma area. This was a thorn in Abong’s side; like his father he could not claim divine powers such as Loolel Kokoi, and he knew that the presence of a customary authority like Loolel Kokoi in the north could potentially threaten his influence. Abong saw Loolel Kokoi as the last remaining opposition to British rule, and thus his own influence. Skillfully playing the young lieutenant Lytton-Milbanke, Abong blamed Loolel Kokoi for inciting the raiding of the Pokot and the southern Turkana. Whether or not this was a just accusation is difficult to determine, notwithstanding, Loolel Kokoi and an influential Ngamatak war leader, Akales, were arrested by the British in early 1926.⁴² Parts of Turkana oral tradition hold that Loolel Kokoi’s arrest was orchestrated by Abong, in a move to secure his position of power in Turkana and toward the British. Among others this is evident in the narrative of Kinyang of the Ngamatak section:

Kokoi was captured because of the jealousy of those first Turkana who served the British. Kokoi had always known the British would come and take the land of the Turkana because of Lokorijam’s [Great Diviner, war leader, and Loolel Kokoi’s father, died in 1903] dream long ago. Those Turkana who were friends of the British told them that they could never have peace with the Turkana until Kokoi was arrested. When the British heard this, they sent a hundred askaris [Kiswahili for ‘soldier’, often locally recruited] to capture him.⁴³

In April 1926 Loolel Kokoi and Akales were deported to Eldoret for trial, but both died almost immediately upon arrival, presumably from pneumonia. The news of the death of the Great Diviner sent shock waves through all of Turkana and caused widespread resentment toward the colonial administration and their chiefs. Many of the chiefs were blamed for advancing colonial rule or abuse of power, and they now faced the wrath of their sections. The Ngamatak section killed two of their own chiefs; Loburmoe and Ngisekona. Also, the Ngibelai, Abong’s section, rose up and killed one of their chiefs called Chaki.⁴⁴ Some of these killings were the result of blatant power abuse by the early chiefs who were in a position of great power not common in Turkana society; Chief Loburmoe for example is reported to have done ‘many bad things. He ate peoples’ animals, beat people for no reason, and slept with peoples’ wives and daughters.’⁴⁵ The British knew that some of their chiefs overstepped the authority of their office; in 1926 DC V. G. Glenday wrote:

.. the imposition of a system of Chiefs and Headmen has been the cause of much of the opprobrium which the government has received, because most of the persons appointed were rapacious individuals who collected hundreds of sheep and goats from the populace on the ground that this was a forcible levy by the Government, and never returned a single penny to the owners of the money which Government payed.⁴⁶

Evidently, some of the Turkana chiefs and headmen had not adjusted to the authority that was bestowed upon them. I would contend, however, that part of this unrest was caused, not just by individual chiefs who abused their power, but by a more widespread frustration in Turkana society with the injustices of colonial rule. As the local representative of the colonial government, the chiefs and headmen were in a dangerous position. The discontent kept building, in 1928 a headman of the Ngiepakuno, Ao, was reported to be afraid of his own section. Acting as the inter-link between the government and the population was perilous; in the late 1920s two headmen were killed by their local communities in the Ngipakuno section, a clear sign of the injustice and dissatisfaction felt in Turkana and the dangerous situations of the headmen as colonial agents.⁴⁷

In this atmosphere of widespread unrest and resentment toward the colonial government, Abong managed to keep his section in line, obeying colonial orders and paying taxes. In 1927 it appears that the only successful tax collection in the district was conducted among Abong’s people.⁴⁸ He supported the establishment of ‘Native Tribunals’ and other colonial structures, and clearly played into the imagery of the colonial administration. In 1929 the DC for Southern Turkana E. D. Emley noted:

Headman Abong has again proven himself to be a man of outstanding ability and influence. He is the only headman worthy of mention but his intelligence and desire for progress are so evident that he is able to carry the Turkana forward with but the smallest degree of assistance from his junior headmen.⁴⁹

Abong managed to establish a good rapport with the British early on and in the sparsely administered southern parts of the district, Abong almost came to function as a European District Officer, hearing cases and taking executive decisions beyond his formal jurisdiction.⁵⁰ Abong attained unprecedented power; the other chiefs would look to him for advice, guidance, and even permission when acting in their own sections.⁵¹ In 1935 the British DC noted that among all chiefs and headmen in Turkana ‘Abong towers alone.’⁵² Also in the oral tradition is Abongs prominence evident; Elimlin Isak of the Ngithonyoka section recounted about Abong’s position: ‘Abong ruled this whole country … All matters came first to his homestead … although some people still opposed the British, Abong convinced them – even forced them – to accept the British.’⁵³ Abong keenly supported the colonial administration and its structure and in the process, his own influence and wealth grew. He built the first elementary school in Turkana at Kaputir in 1935. The school was intended for some of his 30 children, but other chiefs from Turkana also sent their children to the school.⁵⁴ He also used his influence to plead for increased famine relief and medical aid to his people, during a time of hardship in 1944.⁵⁵ Again actions that played into the colonial aspirations and images of development and were a clear sign of a proactive policy toward the colonial government; he transcended and established new boundaries for chiefly practice in Turkana. Abong knew his position and the power that came with it, and he made claims on behalf of himself, his family, and his people. The degree of broad public demand for health care or education would have been minimal at best, these claims were probably more a result of the ambitions of Abong than popular demand. Abong enjoyed great influence among many Turkana, however, he also faced rivals and criticism. As Abong’s influence and power grew the British became concerned with his dominance. He is reported to have overstepped his jurisdiction, acted outside of the law, and abused his power.⁵⁶ His position also seems to have fueled rivalry and internal envy. As Abong fell ill in 1936 the young chief Samal of the Ngithonyoka tried to seize the opportunity to advance his position. Trying to undermine Abong, Samal ‘spread the seeds of dissension among the Southern sections.’ ⁵⁷ He refused to visit Abong in his awi, did not attend barazas, and ended cooperation with the other southern chiefs. The British could not tolerate infighting and rivalry among the chiefs, especially when it challenged their most important Turkana asset, Abong. Samal was publicly censured and fined.⁵⁸ In the following years, Samal seems to have learned the message, he abandoned his challenge of Abong and is not mentioned much by the colonial sources.⁵⁹ He was eventually suspended without pay in 1955 for being ‘unsatisfactory’.⁶⁰

Abong clearly managed to navigate and influence the framework of the colonial structure to his own advantage, but the British also utilized him and his influence in their political agenda. Abong toured the district with the British and appeared at barazas to assert his influence beyond his immediate section.⁶¹ His influence stretched throughout southern and central Turkana and even into the northern Suk. In 1943 chiefs Ekiri and Mekede led their herds into the northern parts of the Sugutu Valley, a move which nearly started a conflict with the Pokot living in the area. In this tense situation, Abong displayed his extraordinary influence and single-handedly settled the situation diplomatically.⁶² There can be little doubt that the influential chiefs were paramount for the functioning of the district from a British standpoint. The British used influential Turkana to gain legitimacy and to create social and political stability in Turkana. Abong’s value to the British administration became evident when he fell ill in 1936. DC Ryland described the temporary loss of Abong as a severe handicap to the administration, and ultimately Abong was evacuated to Nairobi where he underwent electrical treatment procedures.⁶³ Abong received multiple recognitions and medals during his service and was often used as the spokesman for the Turkana beyond its boundaries. As a testament to his and his family’s influence and power, Abong’s brother, Lochuch, succeeded him when he died in 1945. Another son of Achuka, Loichugudi, also served as a loyal chief for more than 20 years, he died six months before Abong.⁶⁴ Abong was the first Turkana chief who inherited his position.⁶⁵ Some of the first appointments of chiefs might have been arbitrary, but from then on there seems to be a pattern of appointing chiefs and headmen from specific groups and families, and some indication that the position became quasi-hereditary. Several of the chiefs in the ‘second generation’ were brothers or sons of former chiefs.⁶⁶ Also former members of the tribal police or former headmen or ‘associate headmen’ were often elevated to chiefs. This was undoubtedly because these individuals belonged to a group of Turkana who had previously been in contact with the colonial administration. Not only were they known to the European officers, but they also knew the expectations and the privileges that came with the job, but most importantly they knew the ‘language’. They had to some degree been socialized in colonialism and the language and code of conduct that prevailed within the system. These individuals knew how to navigate in the peculiar cross-field between the colonial administration and the Turkana herders. They shaped and were shaped by the contact zone, and they knew how to function in it. This is arguably the beginning of a profound social stratification in Turkana, it is clear that the advent of foreign administration opened possibilities for wealth accumulation to some Turkana and not to others. Achuka’s family, including Abong, is a prime example of people who understood the possibilities within the colonial system, adapted, and made the most of them. In terms of balancing the relationship between the colonial rulers and the Turkana, Abong was in a favorable position. The southern Turkana had been hit hard by British expeditions early on so opposition had quickly been crushed or forced to flee north; on top of that Abong had inherited the prestige and influence of his father. Abong both strengthened the colonial administration, but was also strengthened by it; his section was less prone to counter his own and colonial orders, as they had been taught by bitter experiences of the 1910s. This gave Abong a strong position vis-à-vis the southern Turkana, judging from the colonial archives he faced minimal internal criticism, and raiding, trespassing and other illegal activities were very low among his people. This however was not the case in the northern and western parts of Turkana.

‘Watu wa kichwa kubwa - watu jeuri’

Ekadille was chief in the northwest, of a sub-section of the Ngwatella residing in the area around the mountains of Mogilla. The quote in the heading was allegedly used by Chief Nakine to describe his section of the Ngwatella in 1954.⁶⁷ The officer present condoned this description, and throughout the British administration of Turkana, the Ngwatella was the section that offered the most resistance to colonial rule. Gulliver commented on them that they were the ‘most spirited and independent-minded of all the Turkana.’⁶⁸ This independent and indomitable spirit of the Ngwatella was a constant nuisance for the administration, and it resulted in multiple clashes and heavy-handed policing in the northern areas throughout the colonial occupation. The Ngwatella were the last to be affected by colonial rule and were notorious trespassers and raiders, frequently violating colonial orders and boundaries. Their defiant attitude toward the government made it very difficult for the government to disarm the section, and throughout the period the Ngwatella kept firearms for their own protection against their violent neighbors and the colonial law. The disregard for orders from the administration and the criminal offenses committed were known by the chiefs and at times they took an active part in defying the colonial administration. Chief Korinyang was discharged in 1932 after multiple times having refused to comply with government orders and for ‘lacking in loyalty and [being] more or less indifferent to government.’⁶⁹ Chiefs and headmen took part in the illicit gun trade; in 1950 Lominto a Ngwatella headman and the son of a wealthy stock owner was suspended after being found guilty of smuggling guns into Turkana from Dassanetch country, and aiding Dassanetch ‘criminals’ in escaping police fire.⁷⁰ In 1953 Ngwatella herders opened fire on Kenya police officers inside the Ilemi-triangle. In the subsequent firefight, a Ngwatella child was wounded.⁷¹ Several times the colonial government tried to forcefully disarm the Ngwatella, and when they succeeded, they left the frontier herders vulnerable to raids from their neighbors as these were not disarmed by the Abyssinian and Sudanese governments. Especially the Dassanetch, Toposa, and Dodos inflicted severe losses on the Ngwatella and raided an uncountable number of animals. Regardless, the colonial government kept the pressure on the Ngwatella through multiple forceful operations; in 1962 The Kings’ African Rifles mounted a large offensive against the Ngwatella herders, and the colonial soldiers gave little quarter. The most brutal atrocities of the offensive were led by a rising Ugandan officer named Idi Amin.⁷² As this shows, the relationship between the Ngwatella and the colonial government was tense. Thus, the chiefs and headmen acted in a social environment marked by skepticism and often resistance toward the colonial administration, primarily expressed through actively evading government influence, such as taxation and grazing control. Ekadille was chief under these conditions and had to constantly balance the tense relationship between the British and his people.

There are very few sources on Chief Ekadille, nevertheless his tenure as chief represents an interesting case of how the contact zone in Turkana was navigated and how the balancing of different expectations and personal influence were crucial for the chiefs and headmen. His is a story of compromise and negotiation, not the prominence of Abong. Ekadille is reported to have been a warrior with a fearsome reputation in his youth, and this past was likely his source of legitimacy as government chief.⁷³ He was possibly co-opted by the British in an effort to create stability, as was the case with Ekal. The earliest mention of Ekadille in the colonial sources is in 1936. By then he must have been chief for some time and was already involved in a feud with Toposa herders who had wandered into Turkana from Sudan. The Toposa had set up a scheme to discredit Ekadille by giving him sheep in exchange for access to grazing in his area, only to later report him for theft.⁷⁴ Generally, Ekadille’s main task, besides tax collection, was to check Toposa and Ngwatella trespassing and raiding. Despite the defiance and independence of the Ngwatella, Ekadille seems to have managed this task well in the late 1930s and 1940s. Actively and loyally fulfilling his duties, Ekadille called in reinforcements from the tribal retainers in December of 1937 as Toposa herders refused to move out of northern Turkana. However, Toposa trespassing and raiding continued, frustrating his local community. Internally he fared better and largely managed to check the trespassing and raiding of his people. Following a Toposa raid in 1939, the colonial administration praised him for preventing counter-raiding, revenge, and ‘the massacre of odd Topotha who were in Turkana.’⁷⁵ Keeping the Ngwatella from launching counter-raids in this situation was a prominent feat, considering the deep roots of raiding in Turkana culture and history, also in the 1930s.⁷⁶ This is a testament to Ekadille’s influence in his community, influence which only seems to have grown in the 1940. His efforts did not go unnoticed; throughout the 1940s the administration praised Ekadille’s work in the troublesome section.⁷⁷

In 1940 the District Officer went to Mogilla on safari, but only with a heavy military escort.⁷⁸ The British had very limited authority in the Mogilla area, so the loyalty and influence of Ekadille were paramount for keeping up the illusion that this area was under colonial rule. As a sign of gratitude, Ekadille was awarded a Certificate of Honor in 1942 for controlling his section and also for having a good rapport with Toposa officials across the border.⁷⁹ In 1944 Ekadille’s ability to restrain his section was again on display, DC McKay writes: ‘Once again it is Chief Ekadille who we have to thank for preventing the Mogilla Ngwatella from going and taking their revenge after the Topotha raid in July.’⁸⁰ This raid killed the male owner of an awi, three of his wives, and 4 of his children, and wounded two other children. Imaginably tensions ran high, and after the rearmament of the Ngwatella during the Second World War keeping the Ngwatella in line is clear evidence of Ekadille’s strong position. However, Ekadille’s personal abilities might not have been solely responsible; the colonial government let him have 12 armed guards at his awi. This was against colonial policy and rules, and the only example of official armed guards being personally connected to a Turkana chief which appears in the sources.⁸¹ Although it is difficult to imagine they were the only enforcers of their kind. Having had 12 men armed with carbines at his disposal must have enhanced the authority of Ekadille substantially, not just because of the potential threat they posed to dissidents but also, and perhaps more importantly, because of the protection that such a force could provide against raids. Still, Ekadille faced resistance; besides the neighboring ethnic groups, Ekadille had to contend with other Ngwatella chiefs in the area. At a baraza in July 1936 attempts were made to resolve the ill feelings between Lochampa and Ekadille. The two Ngwatella chiefs were feuding over the close relations of their respective constituents.⁸² It is important to note that there were no fixed boundaries between chieftaincies, nor any registers of the affiliation of the herders. This pitted neighboring chiefs against each other as they competed for influence over people or access to natural resources.⁸³

Ekadille had to give some concessions to his section in order to retain some legitimacy as chief. In the colonial administration, this did not go unnoticed, in 1943 the district office noted: ‘Both men [Ekadille and Eragai, a headman under Ekadille] have allowed the natural obstructiveness of their section to colour their own attitude and behaviour to Government.’⁸⁴ It is not clear what events specifically prompted this rebuke. However, whether it was spurred by defiance or negligence on Ekalille’s part it can be seen as a result of a negotiation between retaining influence among the herders and keeping the administration satisfied. Toward the end of the 1940s, there seems to be a shift in Ekadille’s actions. His sections of Ngwatella are increasingly trespassing and Ekadille either cannot control them or does not wish to. Something could indicate the latter, as Ekadille had not previously refrained from calling for aid in times when his powers were not sufficient to stop the trespassing. Toward the end of the 1940s Ekadille did not alert the government when his section was trespassing. Ekadille was defying the government and exerting a form of passive resistance, perhaps because he knew that he would lose his position in the community if he did not. In 1950 the DC noted that Ekadille ought to be fired for his inability to prevent raiding.⁸⁵ Clearly, Ekadille had fallen from the good graces of the administration. A year later he was discharged in ‘ill repute’ as the Tribal Police was deployed to stop Ngwatella trespassing.⁸⁶ This change in Ekadille’s behavior and attitude toward government does not seem to have stemmed from him being any less influential in this section. Instead, Ekadille valued the loyalty toward his people higher than that of the colonial government in a time of crisis. Perhaps his continued influence in his section was a direct result of ignoring certain colonial orders. From the middle of the 1940s, the reputation of the administration suffered a blow in northern Turkana. During the Second World War, the northern Turkana irregulars were armed to fight the Italians but later disarmed and left with no means of defending themselves against the Dassanetch, Nyangatom, and Toposa which the Italians in turn had armed in the fight against the British.⁸⁷ To make matters worse the British failed to push back these neighboring groups and deliver on the promise of protecting the northern Turkana despite having forces in the area. Instead, the colonial army withdrew in July of 1942 leaving the northern Turkana extremely vulnerable. This might have spurred Ekadille to change his attitude toward the British, or at least increased the resentment toward the government in his section thus forcing him to change his stands. Additionally, Toposa raiding and violence toward the Ngwatella increased from 1948; in 1951 a large baraza was held at Lodwar to settle the matter and calm the criticism and frustration in the Ngwatella community. However, the Ngwatella did not seem to have been confident in or satisfied with the British guarantees for their safety; in late 1952 Ngwatella warriors took matters into their own hands and launched ‘three spectacular raids’ against the Toposa and Dodos.⁸⁸ The colonial officers were convinced that Ekadille was behind the raids: ‘There is little doubt that the young men were spurred on by a disgruntled ex-chief [Ekadille] and that the elders of the tribe knew full well that preparations were in hand and continued for several months.’⁸⁹ After the raids, the colonial government kept track of Ekadille’s movements and ordered him to move away from his area near Mogilla.⁹⁰ After that, he disappears from the colonial records.

The case of Ekadille illustrates how the Turkana chiefs who were not socialized in the contact zone and who had no inherited influence, had to constantly balance legitimacy and influence in their section with the demands of the colonial administration, and how this balancing act was made difficult by the defiance and independence of the north-western Ngwatella. Ekadille navigated the contact zone successfully for over a decade, and was decorated for his loyalty to the government, but fundamentally never fully accepted colonial government. The colonial administration did provide Ekadille with armed guards, but ultimately this was not a sufficient force to repress the sentiments of the communities, he could not count on the colonial government to back him the way Abong could, and the political landscape of the northwest did not permit colonial administration to the same degree as in the south. Why Ekadille turned his back on the British is difficult to ascertain; perhaps he was discouraged by the lack of security which the administration could provide or perhaps he followed the prevailing sentiment in his section in an attempt to retain his prominent position in the community. If the British allegations against him in 1953 were true, and he did orchestrate the 1952 raids, he must have maintained significant influence and authority in his community after the colonial administration had stripped him of his position and formal powers. Again this suggests that even among the unruly Ngwatella the chiefs have real influence, backed by the administration or not.

Conclusion

This article has showed the complex relationship between the colonial administration and the chiefs and headmen of Turkana. I have focused on how the chiefs navigated the colonial contact zone; the dilemmas and challenges they faced, and how they over time appropriated the structure of chieftaincy and learned the language of the colonial system.

The act of negotiating the local and administrative demands and expectations was a delicate balancing act for the chiefs. When deciding whether or not to impose taxes in drought years or enforce grazing control in direct opposition to local knowledge and practice, chiefs and headsmen were often caught between two fires and had to gauge their current position vis-á-vis their communities and the colonial administration. The chiefs weighed their options regularly and often felt the need to appease their sections, either to preserve their position or because they as members of the same cultural community nursed the same grievances. Not only personal but also structural circumstances dictated the field of action for the chiefs. The two cases presented here highlight the uneven spread of colonial power and hegemony in Turkana; the southern communities vividly recalled the brutality of the punitive expeditions of the 1910s. This, combined with influential leaders such as Abong made the South more susceptible to colonial government. This was not the case in the northwestern part of the district, where colonial influence was much more limited and where armed opposition to the colonial government continued throughout the period of occupation.

These findings paint a much more nuanced picture of Turkana chieftaincy, than Mamdani’s notion of the ‘clenched fist’ or Rangers’ ideas of colonial invention. These cases show that colonial chiefs were far from all powerful; instead their local power relied on multiple factors besides their connection to the British, and these power dynamics were fluid and constantly renegotiated. In addition, chieftaincy in Turkana was far from a pure colonial invention; despite the ‘chiefless’ character of their societies, the Turkana had leaders of various sorts, many of whom became government chiefs and utilized their divine, military or economic power in their new role. Given the limited power of the civil administration, Turkana chiefs were to a large extent able to form chieftaincy to their own agendas and circumstances, thus it would be more appropriate to think of chieftaincy as co-invented or co-created in the colonial contact zone. This degree of freedom for the chiefs in Turkana was a result of the inhibited and minimal colonial administration, and contrasts with experiences among the Kamba, Kikuyu and elsewhere in Kenya where colonial politics, propaganda, and settler affairs played a much larger role for the chiefs. The cases however also show that the colonial occupation in Turkana was much more complex than the resistance narratives which dominate the literature. Despite its marginal place in the British empire and the overwhelming administrative focus on security, the colonial encounter in Turkana was a negotiated one. Even on the vast and sparsely populated plains of Turkana a colonial contact zone was being contested and negotiated, albeit under radically different political, economic and social circumstances than in central Kenya.

Both Ekadille and Abong negotiated the politics of the power relations in Turkana, however in different ways. Both imbued the colonial structure of chieftaincy with meaning, concrete actions, words, and silences. They co-created the structure of chieftaincy and negotiated the field of possible actions within it. This was done in a dynamic dialectic process between the local communities, the colonial administration, and the chiefs’ own ambitions. They both negotiated and navigated this contact zone to the best of their ability, with different backgrounds and significantly different outcomes.

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank the Carlsberg Foundation, Linacre College, Oxford, the African Studies Centre at the University of Oxford, Augustinus Fonden, and Oticon Fonden for funding and support. I am also indebted to Niels Brimnes and Casper Andersen at Aarhus University.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 Schneider, Livestock and Equality, chap. 9; Lewis, Social Anthropology, chap. 10; Lewis, A Pastoral Democracy., pt. 3.

2 Mirzeler, “Karamoja Historical Perspective.”

3 Nieuwall and Dijk, African Chieftaincy, 1.

4 Hobsbawm and Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, chap. 3.

5 Mamdani, Citizen and Subject, 23, 54.

6 Mamdani, 54.

7 Spear, “Neo-Traditionalism”; Bayart, “Africa in the World”; Shadle, “Changing Traditions”; Leonardi, Dealing with Government; Nieuwall and Dijk, African Chieftaincy; Herbst, States and Power.

8 Verweijen and Van Bockhaven, “Revisiting Colonial Legacies”; Eggers, “Authority That Is Customary”; Van Bockhaven, “Anioto and Nebeli”; Komujuni and Büscher, “In Search of Chiefly Authority”; Hoffmann, Vlassenroot et al., “Courses Au Pouvoir”; Becker, “Locating the ‘Customary’.”

9 Lamphear, The Scattering Time; Leslie and Little, Turkana Herders of the Dry Savanna, chap. 2; Collins, “The Turkana Patrol of 1918 Reconsidered"; Lokuruka and Lokuruka A, “Ramifications of the 1918 Turkana Patrol”; Mburu, “Firearms and Political Power”; Shanguhyia, “Insecure Borderlands.”

10 Pratt, Imperial Eyes; Schnepel, “Contact Zone: Ethnohistorical Notes”; Wodianka and Behrens, Chaos in the Contact Zone.; Giffard, “Transculturalism and Translation.” Other scholars have questioned the utility of the concept when analyzing colonial frontiers and encounters, and contended that the term ‘contact’ is not suited for encounters where one party is forcibly subdued or outright annihilated, see Julie Evans, “Beyond the frontier,” in Russell, Colonial Frontiers.

11 Pratt, Imperial Eyes, 6–7.

12 Berman and Lonsdale, Unhappy Valley, Bk.1; Berman and Lonsdale, Unhappy Valley, Bk.2; Anderson, Eroding the Commons.

13 Kayes, “Reading against the Grain”; Guha, Dominance without Hegemony, pt. 3; Axel, “Historical Anthropology and Its Vicissitudes,” 12–17., nuanced by: Stoler, Along the Archival Grain.

14 Spear, “New Appraoches to Documentary Sources” in Falola and Jennings, Sources and Methods in African History.

15 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, chaps 3–7.

16 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 3.

17 Leslie and Little, Turkana Herders of the Dry Savanna, 34.

18 “Kelly, W. F. P., Kenya Memoir.” Bodleian Library, MSS Afr. s. 2229, 85.

19 “Annual Report 1938, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 2.

20 Davies, E. R. “Safari Report 1930.” Bodleian Library, MSS Afr., no. s. 513; “Annual Report 1932, South Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47; “Annual Report 1931, South Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47.

21 “Annual Report 1928, North Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 46; “AR 1932, South Turkana,” Appendix IV.

22 “Annual Report 1942, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 5.

23 Gulliver, A Preliminary Survey, 61.

24 For an entry into this see: Leslie and Little, Turkana Herders of the Dry Savanna, 81–83.

25 “Annual Report 1926, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 46, 2.

26 Interview T-36, Lobwin, 29.06.1976 in Lodwar, in Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 85.

27 Lamphear, 84–85.

28 Gulliver, A Preliminary Survey, 159; “AR 1926, Turkana District,” 4.

29 “AR 1926, Turkana District,” ““Additional notes,” 5.

30 “AR 1928, North Turkana,” 10.

31 Ibid., 11–13.

32 Clough, Fighting Two Sides, 187.

33 Unlike Tignor I have found no evidence that Turkana chiefs relied on a militia-like force of quasi-military tribal retainers. I suspect that chiefs among the militarized Ngwatella section might have had to rely on such measures. Tribal retainers were at disposal centrally, stationed in Lodwar, and not connected to chiefs or headmen personally. Tignor, “Colonial Chiefs in Chiefless Societies,” 349.

34 Spear, “Neo-Traditionalism,” 12.

35 Schneider, Livestock and Equality in East Africa, 238–39; Lewis, Social Anthropology in Perspective, chap. 3; Lewis, A Pastoral Democracy, pt. 3.

36 Willis in, Parker and Reid, The Oxford Handbook of Modern African History, 216–17.

37 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 50, 77–81.

38 Interview T-53, Ekwar, 18.07.1976 in Nakurio, in Lamphear, 80.

39 W. P. F. Kelly, “Turkana District Notes, 1951,” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr. 516 reel 15, 4–7; Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 98, 138, 205, 235.

40 “AR 1926, Turkana District,” 2.

41 “Notes for District Annual Report 1926.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 46.

42 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 230–38.

43 Interview T-24, Kinyang, 11.06.1976 in Lorugumu, in Lamphear, 238.

44 Lamphear, 240–41.

45 Interview T-43, Eligoi, 10.07.1976 in Kaputir, in Lamphear, 240.

46 Cited in, Gulliver, A Preliminary Survey, 159.

47 “AR 1928, North Turkana,” 11–13.

48 “Annual Report 1927, Southern Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47. 3–4.

49 “Annual Report 1929, South Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47. 11–12.

50 “AR 1938, Turkana District,” 21.

51 “Annual Report 1931, Turkana Province.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 22; “Intelligence Report April 1940, Turkana Extra-Provincial District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 519, reel 11, 2.

52 “Annual Report 1935, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515. reel 46, 24.

53 Interview T-44, Elimlin Isak, 11 July 1976, in Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 245–46.

54 “AR 1935, Turkana District,” 30–31.

55 “Annual Report 1944, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47.

56 “AR 1938, Turkana District,” 21; Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 248.

57 “Annual Report 1936, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 28.

58 “AR 1936, Turkana District,” 29.

59 “Annual Report 1937, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 23.

60 “Handing and Taking Over Report, July 1955, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 517, reel 13, 3.

61 “Annual Report 1940, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 6.

62 “Annual Report 1943, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 17.

63 “AR 1936, Turkana District,” 30–31.

64 “Annual Report 1945, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 10–11.

65 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 205.

66 “Annual Report 1933, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 46, 21–22.

67 “Handing Over Notes 1957, Lokitaung Sub-District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 517, reel 13, pt. 2, section 4. Kiswahili meaning ‘people with very big heads – violent people’. ‘People with very big heads’ is a Swahili expression for stubborn people.

68 Gulliver, A Preliminary Survey, 60.

69 “Annual Report 1932, Northern Turkana.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 46, 15.

70 “Annual Report 1950, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 14.

71 “Annual Report 1953, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 9.

72 Lamphear, The Scattering Time, 253.

73 “Annual Report 1939, Turkana Extra-Provincial District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 48, 21.

74 “AR 1936, Turkana District,” 15.

75 “AR 1939, Turkana Extra-Provincial District,” 21: Also: “Annual Report 1939, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 20.

76 McCabe, Cattle Bring Us to Our Enemies, chaps 2 and 3.

77 “AR 1940, Turkana District,” 6; “Annual Report 1948, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 16.

78 “AR 1940, Turkana District,” 5.

79 “AR 1942, Turkana District,” 19.

80 “AR 1944, Turkana District,” 15.

81 “Handing Over Notes June 1948, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 517, reel 13, sec. d.

82 “Annual Report 1936, Lokitaung District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 48, sec. 12.

83 “Holford-Walker, A. F., Handing over Reports, Safari Notes.” Bodleian Library, MSS Afr. s. 831, 9; “AR 1948, Turkana District,” 8.

84 “Annual Report 1942, Lokitaung Sub-District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 48 sec. B (2).

85 “AR 1950, Turkana District,” 12–13.

86 “Annual Report 1951, Turkana District.” Bodleian Library, MICR Afr., no. 515, reel 47, 1–5.

87 “AR 1942, Turkana District,” 11–12.

88 “AR 1953, Turkana District,” 4.

89 Ibid.

90 Ibid, 9.