control by afai, is not contingent upon cultivation. There are some areas in Nsaw which have never been farmed; and others which have only been brought under the hoe within the last twenty years or, in some cases, even more recently, although they have been vested in certain lineages for five or more generations. This principle must be clearly distinguished from that which determines the individual's right to usufruct of a particular plot allocated to him or her by a lineage head. Here, quite apart from the observance of rules and the fulfilment of kinship obligations, rights are dependent on continuous cultivation, allowing of course for periods of fallow. But, as long as a person requires the plot, it is left to him or to her to determine the period of grass fallow. Should he or she leave the village and not return to cultivate the plot, and should it be required by another person of the lineage, then the fai resumes control and re-allocates it. This brings us to the subject of individual rights of usufruct and, in particular, those of the women.

At first glance the system of land tenure may seem inflexible and one likely to operate in a manner adverse to the interests of the women in that, although they do all the farming, they have no legal control over the plots of land which they require for their various crops. Certain questions automatically arise: does the system involve preferential treatment for one sex, class, or age group in the community, or does it confer rights of usufruct upon all women by virtue of their kinship, affinal, local and political ties ? Again, once farm plots have been allocated, what security of tenure do the women possess; what freedom do they enjoy in lending sections to others; and what voice have they in determining who shall take over a plot, once they have decided to abandon it permanently ? The answers to many of these questions hinge on a knowledge of the Nsaw kinship system; but an analysis of land utilization and control throws, in its turn, considerable light on the balance achieved between the power of the Føn on the one hand and the rights of lineage heads on the other; on the status of members of the lineage (including women) vis-à -vis the lineage head; on the factors making for cohesion within the lineage and on those which are productive of tension and fission. Here, we are attempting primarily to isolate the economic functions of kinship groups and their bearing on the position of women, but two points should be borne in mind: firstly, a change in the present system of land tenure by, for example, a re-allocation of arable areas among lineage heads, or by the introduction of individual ownership, would have consequences extending beyond the sphere of economics. It would, in short, entail a profound modification, dislocation, and perhaps even destruction of existing political, religious and kinship obligations. Secondly, an attempt to establish a sharp dichotomy between the rights of the women and those of the men is, in some respects, an artificial process and one contrary, in general, to Nsaw attitudes, though a statement which I shall quote in a moment might appear to give the lie to this. But, on the whole, it is consonant with Nsaw values to investigate rights to land in terms of an individual's status qua membership of particular kinship groups, and not qua sex. Let us probe more deeply into the nature of ownership of land by afai, the rights and responsibilities by which, in the last resort, it must be defined as a functioning system.

THE CONCEPT OF OWNERSHIP

I am going to quote four statements which were made to me at different times. At first sight they appear to be contradictory, but they were accurate within the contexts in which they occurred; and, moreover, they may be reconciled if the concept of ownership is analysed at all levels. They are as follows:

(a) " Men own the land; women own the crops." (Vilum keer ngvën viki keer vifa ve yi.)

(b) "A woman only owns a farm; she does not own the earth (land); a lineage head owns the land. A lineage head, he alone owns the land. a 'son' (or a 'daughter') of the compound does not own the land." Wiiy keer adzë sum tshatsha; bo wu yo keer nsaiy (ngvën) ; ngvën keer fai. Fai, win mo'øn, keer ngvën; wan o laa la yo keer ngvën).

(c) " Farms, kola trees and raffia ought not to be given away, because these are
things of the lineage." (.......bifeeee vëni dzë vifa ve kføø.)

(d) "A lineage head only has the power to give a new place (one not already allocated) to a stranger. A place, which people are cultivating, he ought riot to give to a stranger. " ( Wu keer vitavi adzë wu fo kirë ke fii'ki e wir o sën. Adzë kirë ke wiri si lime la wu yo adzë fo e wir o sën.)

The first statement - "men own the land; women own the crops", or in a variant form such as "women cannot inherit land; only men own the land" was made to me on a number of occasions, not only in Nsaw, but also in other parts of Bamenda. One particular instance will serve to underline the distinction which the men had in mind. In 1945 a land dispute came up for review in the Native Court and the putative plaintiff was a woman who was acting on behalf of her sick father, a fai. She won the case, but soon afterwards it was bruited round the village that the Reviewing Officer had not understood that she was only acting as her father's representative, and he had assumed that she was the de facto owner of the plot in question. Various friends of mine were disturbed lest it should serve as a precedent; and they pointed out that, if her son were astute, he might be tempted to claim the land on the score that it has been recognized in Court as his mother's. But, it was asserted emphatically, women do not own land; they only control the crops. It is true, as we shall see later, that a woman sometimes lends a friend a small section, but this is a personal arrangement between the two women and has no validity in a court. For example, if a woman called A. has a large plot she may give her friend B. permission to cultivate a section of it. If, at a later date, another woman called C. begins to encroach on B.'s plot, B. cannot take the matter to the council since she only received rights of usufruct from A., who has no legal authority. The procedure followed in such a case would be for A. to make the trespass known to her husband (or to her own father if the plot is on the land of his lineage) who would then order C. to go away. Should this fail, A.'s husband would report the matter to the fai who allocated the land in the first instance. If the case were taken to court, the fai might be plaintiff against C., or else A.'s husband would appear as plaintiff and call on the fai as his witness.

But, in the statement quoted above, the main distinction drawn is between spheres of influence. All women manage their crops; and all women, by virtue of their sex, are ineligible for the office of fai or she in which control is vested.¹ But although all men are eligible for such an office, only a few attain it. And this brings us to the second statement; " a woman only owns the farm; she does not own the land. A fai owns the land; a 'son' or 'daughter' of the compound does not own the land." Here it is necessary to define more precisely the meaning of the terms sum, ngvën, and nsaiy. Sum is a farm plot; nsaiy is the earth or soil; and ngvën is land, but more especially arable land and is used, for example, in the phrase tshu ngvën - to sacrifice for the land and ensure its fertility. The verb, keer, has a number of cognate meanings - to hold, have, own, or manage; and the connotation depends on the context. In the

¹ In the case of a lineage having no adult or adolescent males to succeed to the position of fai or she, a woman is sometimes appointed by the head of the clan or sub-clan to act as trustee, until one of the boys comes of age and can assume responsibility. For example, in a sublineage of Yuwar in Mbam, a woman has been chosen for this role by Fai-o-Yuwar, the sub-clan head resident in Kimbaw. She is a titular she, performs sacrifices, and administers the family property, including land, kolas, and raffia.

statement quoted above - wiiy keer sum (woman has the farm) - there is no implication of absolute control, but rather of management of a farm plot while it is in her hands. Neither she nor a male dependant of the lineage has, ultimately, any legal claim to its disposal. It is the fai (or she) who administers the property of the lineage; that is, he makes the original allocation of plots among members of his lineage and among his sisters' children, and also among more distant relatives, affines, friends or strangers who approach him with a request for land. Whatever temporary arrangements the beneficiaries may make about the use of their plots, the fai has, in the event of a dispute, the over-riding voice; and, moreover, he retains the privilege of reclaiming allotments. I should say the legal privilege since, as we shall see, he is under a moral obligation to exercise this only in certain circumstances.

And this brings us to a consideration of the obverse aspect of his authority - his responsibilities. Although it is left to a fai to decide whether distant kin, affines, friends or strangers should be granted plots, he should do so only when it does not prejudice the interests of his dependants, or deprive them of land which is necessary for their subsistence. Secondly, he should look to the future and safeguard his patrimony for the next generation. For example, kola trees and raffia plantations may be sold or pledged, but male dependants should be consulted; and it is done only in cases of necessity and never on a large scale.¹ Kola and raffia are " things of the lineage "; they are its capital or, as one man put it, " the source of salt and oil ", the means by which money is obtained to buy necessaries. Though a fai reaps the major profit from the sales of the produce (nuts, wine, poles), he is expected to assist his dependants in times of emergency. But land, while it is in a different category in so far as it cannot be pawned or sold, should also be husbanded and care should be taken that, when it is lent to non-lineage members, it is reclaimed after a certain lapse of time. For it is recognized that there is a tendency for land which is cultivated for many years by an affine or stranger to become permanently alienated. This danger is particularly obvious in the case of certain beneficiaries such as the wives and daughters of the Føn and of vibai, and there are usages designed to circumvent such a possibility.

In. the first place, most important lineage heads (but not atanto) are given a daughter or grand-daughter of the Føn (wanto or wanwanto) as a wife. This woman cultivates a number of farm plots, but there is always one special area, perhaps 11/2 acres in extent, which is reserved specifically for her use by the fai and which is called the sum-wanto. However, when she dies her daughters (who come under the authority of the Føn) are not permitted to go on farming it, though they have rights of usufruct to the other plots of their dead mother, the wanto. Two reasons are given for this custom: in the first place, a fai is usually given another wanto as a wife, who then takes over the sum-wanto ; but, secondly, even if this does not happen for some years, there is the danger that if the daughters of the deceased woman worked the sum-wanto the land might eventually pass into the hands if the Føn.

A similar attitude underlies the custom whereby, in a m'tar lineage, the woman appointed to be Yelaa (Mother of the Compound) should never be the daughter of a kibai or the Føn, since it is feared that her senior kinsman may be able to secure a hold on m'tar property, in this case arable land. Likewise, in m'tar lineages, it is only in exceptional cases that a man whose mother is a close relative of the Føn or a kibai succeeds to the office of lineage head, since both these personages have certain rights of inheritance in the property of cognatic

¹ I was told by one man that nowadays, when a fai or a she decides to abandon a compound, he may try to sell the kola trees. Such an action provokes disapproval and is regarded as selfish (kingan), since he should leave the trees for his brothers and sons if he does not want to look after them.

descendants. In the appointment of a fai or a she, the members of the lineage, and sometimes the head of a senior branch, have the deciding voice; but the Føn, through his delegates, is able to influence the decision and, in some cases, he may exert pressure to secure the election of a man related to himself through maternal ties. When this happens, the head of the m'tar lineage concerned is said to have " scorched his head " (fhshwi kitu kfë) since the affairs of the lineage come within the orbit of the Føn's influence by virtue of the kinship tie. I heard of several cases, but for one of these there was some justification and I shall describe it here, since it throws considerable light on the lineage system and the rights of m'tar vis-à-vis the Føn.

Many years ago, a Christian was designated to be she of a m'tar sub-lineage but he refused on religious grounds, since he would not be able to perform the sacrifices for the compound. A pagan was appointed but, after a time, he ran away and left the compound without anyone in immediate authority, though the sub-clan head, who lived in a distant village, occasionally visited and collected the kola nuts from the trees belonging to the sub-lineage. The men left behind in the compound were Christians, with the exception of one youth who, through his mother, was a relative of the Føn. In 1947 he was selected to be she by the Føn's delegates. Some people said that, in view of the history of past appointments, there was no alternative short of taking a man from another lineage of the same sub-clan. And one man pointed out that the new she was at fourth generation remove from the Føn and was, therefore, more likely to come under the influence of his mother's father who was, in fact, a fai. But the head of another lineage of the clan, to which the she belonged, was more critical. He admitted that the head of the sub-clan did not bother to look after the people of the compound, and the Føn had therefore taken a ' son ' of his own and put him on the stool. But, he asserted, " it is not correct (bo ki yo dzë titi) ", and he went on to explain why. "When they take a wir duiy (to be fai or she in a m'tar lineage), he then earns things only to give them to the Føn's side (group). All his people (dependants) will then turn back, as if they were of the Føn's lineage. Those men all enter the nggiri society.¹ If they catch a leopard they cannot keep the hide and the head in their compound. They bring and give it only to the Føn. (A li wir duiy wu neena a keen vifa a fo adzë Føn mbiif. Wir adzëm lo neena binkir adzë dji kføø Føn. Wir e sho'i a wi nggiri laa adzëm. Awinni ko baa adzë la yo dzë leem djuf wina kuti kfë e awinni laa. Awinni wi sho fo adzë Føn).

The usages which I have described above not only illustrate the jealousy with which m'tar lineages seek to preserve their status, but they also make clear the validity of the sharp distinction drawn between the titular ownership of land by the Føn on the one hand, and the de facto control by afai on the other.

Among those who frequently request the loan of a plot from a fai are the wives of the Føn (vikinto). Refusal is difficult in view of their rank; and, moreover, if the land is not for the moment required by his dependants a fai is able to do a favour and perhaps gain a friendship which may be of use later. But sometimes an ambitious man does so at the cost of evicting a non-relative who has farmed a plot for many years and whose household may temporarily suffer some hardship until she can find another. Such an action is likely to provoke disparaging comments even among his own kin, who feel that a moral principle is at stake although their own interests may not be immediately affected. Criticism becomes more acute when a fai grants to a wife of the Føn particularly fertile plots which might well have been offered to women of his compound. One case will illustrate the issues involved.

¹ The nggiri society has its quarters (laa) near the palace, and its membership is drawn solely from among male members of the Føn's kin. The society meets for recreation, and for the performance of certain rituals and masked dances.

There is a fai of a long established m'tar lineage whom I shall refer to here as Fai-o-Bum.¹ He is a man of middle-age who has a number of wives and is notorious for the way in which he neglects his duties to his dependants, even to the extent of failing to carry out important rites at the harvest of finger millet. Like other afai, he has several plots (shu-sum) reserved for his own maize, and one of these is on especially fertile alluvial land. After a period of fallow the surrounding area was brought under cultivation early in 1946, but he did not bother to have his own plot cleared and sown with grain. Instead, he lent it to a wife of the Føn. Feeling ran high in the compound and his action was condemned even in the presence of non-relatives. One of his older wives discussed the matter angrily with her friends, pointing out that there were many children in the compound who would need good land later, and that the Føn's wife in question already had several farms. She concluded her remarks by saying that the fai was a very bad man (wir o bi feyi).

A younger brother (actually father's brother's son) of Fai-o-Bum was equally outspoken in his criticism. John, as I shall call him in this book, was a Christian with a large family. His late father had been the fai; and his late mother, the Yelaa had been entrusted with the management of the shu-sum and had worked the strip adjacent to it. John condemned the fai's action because, as he pointed out, the shu-sum is " a thing of the lineage " and " a farm of very strong magic " (wu dzë sum o kifu ke shiib ke tavin ki). At the time for planting maize, the fai should perform rites on the shu-sum in the early morning and then return to the shu-fai (his own house) where he scrapes off shavings from a piece of meenkan wood (ebony ?) on to a basket of seed, which has been kept by the Yelaa and is known as the " corn of God " (nggwasaa-nyooiy). She plants a little of this with her own hand on her own farm, and then on the shu-sum adjacent to it, distributing the rest of the medicated seed among the women of the compound who sow it and other seed on the shu-sum. Now, these rites are believed to influence the crops planted on all the land held by the lineage; for, just as the fai is the representative of the lineage, particularly in the ancestor cult, so his farm, the shu-sum, symbolizes the farms of his dependants. John, though a Christian, was not bigoted and his view was that, while his kin and Fai-o-Bum remained pagans, the fai should fulfil his ritual duties to his people. " It is good that the pagans should ask God to help them; and it is good that the Fai should ask God to help his people." But, demanded John, how could the Fai perform the necessary rites seeing that he had lent the shu-sum to a wife of the Føn? John had no fears for the success of his own crops, but he understood the sense of insecurity engendered among his pagan kin. At one stage in our discussion he remarked acidly: " the Fai does not look after the things which we eat. He washes his body and then goes to drink palmwine. He only drinks paImwine. Some afai cut thatching grass; ours does nothing at all!"²

There was another element in this situation which also aroused resentment. Not only had Fai-o-Bum lent the shu-sum but he also ran the risk of losing it. It was explained to me that after a time the Føn's wife might bring her daughter to farm there and this might prove to be the thin edge of the wedge, whereby a block would be prised off the land of the lineage to pass into the hands of the Føn. John himself had had to face such a contingency himself and he men-

¹ Some of the information which I received was given to me in confidence and, where this is so, I shall use pseudonyms for any individuals concerned.

² Sometimes one fai criticizes another for lack of responsibility. On one occasion a fai, who was a friend of mine, spoke with keen disapproval ofthe conduct of the head of a sub-clan: "Fai-o-X is proud (literally, feels his body is different). He does not look after the people here at all. He only likes to eat the things here. If there is no sub-lineage head here to gather the kola nuts then the people (of the compound) go and give (the nuts) to him. He then sells them and eats. (Fai-o-X yu wunë djee. Bo wu yo lei fee wir feen ghe. Wu køng a yii adzë vifa feen. A bo she yo dzë feen a koiy biy, a neena a du fo win. Wunin fii'ni neena yii)."

tioned it to me in illustration of the care which must be observed in lending a plot to a Føn's wife. He had allowed one to use a small farm for two years; but, at the end of that period, he said she must go as his own wife wished to cultivate it in the following season. His real motive was that he did not wish the woman to secure a foothold.

I have described this incident in some detail because it brings out clearly that, behind the respect and obedience which dependants (not excluding the wives) express towards the fai, there is also a strong sense of their own rights and of his corresponding obligations. It is the responsibility of a fai to perform all the sacrifices deemed necessary for the security and welfare of his group to look after their interests and not merely to further his own ambitions; to act as trustee rather than as selfish consumer; and to keep his patrimony intact as far as possible for his successor and his dependants. It should be stressed here that Fai-o-Bum is a-typical in his conduct and is considered so by a number of people in Kimbaw. As my friends phrased it, with a gift for understatement which is almost English: " his ways are different (li dzë djee djee)! " In the incident described above, some of the senior men of the compound protested to him about his action but he was adamant. It was said that in the old days his dependants might have asked the Føn to remove him from office on the score of his neglect of a wide range of duties. But now, they explained, things are different and the best they could hope for was that the next fai would be a better man. Fai-o-Bum is in his late fifties and may reasonably be expected to join the ancestors soon! In the meantime he runs the risk of incurring the anger of ancestors and bringing misfortune on himself and his children. He may also forfeit the allegiance of some of his male dependants who, when they find the conditions become increasingly intolerable, may set up compounds elsewhere. When a fai is lacking in moral sensibility, these two sanctions usually operate as restraints on his behaviour. But in the case of Fai-o-Bum they seemed ineffective and already some of his male relatives living in a neighbouring compound had taken the first steps towards a permanent break. One of the issues involved was land and I shall refer to it later in this book.

One further point should be considered, namely rights to a house-site in a compound. A man is allotted an area by the fai and when he wishes to build another dwelling he normally has no difficulty in obtaining permission to utilize vacant land nearby.¹ When he dies, his widow continues to occupy her hut, and his adolescent sons may take over their father's hut. But if he has no male issue the hut reverts to the fai, who either allocates it to another member of the compound or allows a stranger to live there. But in this last case, once the hut has fallen into decay, another may not be built without the express consent of the fai; whereas in regard to a member of the lineage this would not be required.

WOMEN'S RIGHTS TO USUFRUCT

So far we have looked at ownership in terms of the fai's rights and the circumstances in which they are exercised. We shall now consider the rights of the women and the extent to which they compare favourably with those of the 'sons' of the lineage head.

Most Nsaw girls grow up in the compound under the authority of the head of their father's lineage, marriage being patrilocal. At an early age they begin to importune their mothers for a pocket-handkerchief plot where they may cultivate a few plants of rizga, millet, sweet potatoes, or maize. Sometimes

¹ When a man builds his first hut in the compound, the landholder, who is usually the resident fai, kindles the first fire, pours a little palmwine in libation, and invokes the blessing of God and the ancestors on the new householder.