a group of such midget farmers takes over ground no longer considered worth farming by their mothers; and there, in company, they experiment, learn and compete with one another. More often, however, a woman marks out a small plot on her own farm for her daughter. By the time a girl is 14 or 15 years old she assists her mother regularly on the main farms, and has two or three for which she is directly responsible and which she regards as her own. They increase in size or number, and it often happens that she is put in charge of outlying farms if her mother is old or sickly. Two individuals may together cultivate about 1.9 acres, or more if there are young children to be fed in the household. A married woman with no children, or only one or two, works a total of some 1.3 acres.

When a girl marries, at the age of seventeen or later, she is under no compulsion to surrender her plots and, if she is living in the same village, she generally continues to work them, to assist her mother, and to receive help in return. Even when her husband belongs to another village where there is plenty of land, she is reluctant to abandon her own plots which she had farmed for several years and for which she has a certain sentimental attachment. But particularly important is the companionship of her mother, sisters, and friends who offer a refuge and a respite from the strangeness of her husband's village. If she lives only some three or four miles away, she may return several times a week to tend her old farms, sometimes remaining the night with her mother. What I wish to emphasize here is that her sex in nowise places her at a disadvantage vis-à vis male members of the lineage. As long as she cultivates her plot she is under no obligation to cede it to a kinsman. Let me quote one instance among many. Yirbongka is a woman past child-bearing who enjoys good health and has five surviving children, some of whom live in Kimbaw. Her marriage was, from the Nsaw point of view, illegal in that it took place without the permission of her fai. After a number of years she returned to her father's compound, which was close by. During her marriage, however, she had continued to farm some of the plots allocated to her in her adolescence, one of them being a large strip of fertile alluvial land near the compound. In her possession of this she enjoys an advantage over some of her brother's wives. Yet, there is no question of her surrendering it, nor did I ever hear the others express jealousy. She is dignified, good-tempered, kindly, and respected and liked by the rest of the compound, including the fai, who often makes her the recipient of his confidences. When she dies, or perhaps before that, she may give some of her plots to her son's wife, some to her daughters; and perhaps others again to other members of the compound. Those not allocated by her personally would return to the common pool until re-allotted by the fai himself.

If, however, a married woman lives far away from her parental compound and is not prepared to make the journey, her plots will either be taken over by her mother or sisters - or, if they are not required by them, they revert to grassland and are at the disposal of the fai. Should she at a later date become a widow or divorce her husband and desire to return to her parental home, she resumes cultivation of her old plots if they have not been re-allocated and providing the fai agrees; or she may be granted others in their stead.

As a general rule, a married woman finds it convenient to have her farms on the land of her husband's lineage. When a man marries, his fai demarcates an area for him, and, in addition, his own mother may make one or two of her own plots available for the bride. As the size of the family increases, a woman requires a larger area and, if it is available in her husband's village, she prefers to work it rather than to make a long journey to her mother's village. Care of her children and heavier responsibilities lead her to conserve her time and energy as much as possible. Granted a choice of plots, the decision rests with

her. As one woman explained to me: "I have given up my farm at Nkar (some 10 miles away). My husband was unwilling because the ground was good; but I had delivered three children and was tired".

Besides rights of usufruct in land of the father's lineage, a man and a woman enjoy almost similar rights in regard to plots on land of their mother's lineage. That this is a matter of the privileges of kinship and not a favour secured through friendship is brought out by the fact that no gift of maize is demanded at harvest. My first interpreter, Benedict Tata, told me that his wife was working a large plot at Tabessob, which had previously belonged to his mother and was part of the land of her lineage. When I asked if he had first to obtain his mother's brother's permission, he said " No! If it is my mother's farm (sum), I do not have to beg permission from any man at all. I am cultivating it, (afeen dzë sum yewor la m yo dzaa løng fee wir ghe. Meen aa limlimin)". But, while I encountered other examples of this, they were for obvious reasons few in number. Usually a woman obtains sufficient land for her needs from the fai of her husband or her father; and it is only when she has a large family and also is living near her mother's father that she is likely to capitalize, as it were, her ties with him.

When her husband's land is poor or inadequate and she lives far from her own kin, she may " beg " plots from some fai in the village or from her women friends. This is more likely to occur in Kimbaw than in other villages because of a large population and increasing pressure on local land reserves; and, finally, the tendency for a number of men to take up residence there rather than in their father's village. This is particularly true in the case of ex-servants of the Føn and sons of the Føn . Sometimes it is left to the woman herself to approach a fai with a supplicatory gift of food and " beg " that he demarcate a plot for her; sometimes her husband may take a calabash of palm wine and make the request. If the fai has vacant land either he or his delegate marks the boundaries, and the woman is then free to plant her crops providing she observes the rules for a traditional rest-day, when the hoe must not be wielded. At harvest she presents the fai with a basket of grain (never tubers); but if the yield has been poor, he is content with a few cobs and may even waive these. The gift is a formal acknowledgement that right to usufruct is dependent on the good-will of the landholder. Often the husband supplements it by small offerings of salt, tobacco, and wine in order to keep the relationship " sweet ", and perhaps obtain a little more land when the first plot reverts to fallow. When a person has cultivated a plot for many years, more especially in the case of an affine, no demand for the pepper-corn rent may be made, but it is understood that the original conditions of transfer still remain in force.

Sometimes a village head (tantee) has an exceptionally large tract of land, of which outlying portions have never been cultivated and he will permit another fai, who is a close friend in a neighbouring village, to take over a large block for allocation among his own dependants. The original holder does not surrender his claims to it, but, where it is unlikely he will require it for his own kin, such land tends to be regarded as belonging to the beneficiary fai. For example, there is one block on the boundaries between Kimbaw and Kingomen which was granted to Fai-o-Djung in Kimbaw by a fai in Kingomen some 20 years ago. The dependants of Fai-o-Djung still cultivate it and, while admitting it is a loan, feel secure in their tenure and do not envisage the possibility of eviction. One man has obtained permission to plant raffia there; and the women decide among themselves who shall farm. For instance, an inherited wife of Fai-o-Djung, an old woman, has decided that her son's wife is to take over her plot; a widowed sister of Fai-o-Djung has " given " hers to a friend in the adjoining compound, which belongs to a sub-lineage of the same clan as that of Fai-o-Djung.

SECURITY OF TENURE

Both a man and a woman have, then, a number of alternative means for obtaining land. Moreover, as is apparent from earlier remarks, an individual expects to retain the usufruct of plots received from the heads of the lineages of both parents. Normally a woman, once she has been granted plots, continues to farm them for the rest of her life, often transmitting them to her sons or daughters. It is left to her to decide the period of grass fallow, which may be from 3 to 6 years, and may extend to 10 or more without invalidating her position as temporary occupier. She regards the plots as her own, jealously safeguards her boundaries, is quick to report any encroachment; and, finally, she rests secure in the knowledge that, without due cause, she will not be dispossessed during her lifetime. When these facts are taken into account, the two statements -" women own the farms " and " women do not own the land " - are not contradictory but refer to different types of ownership or, rather, different sets of rights. Even when a new fai succeeds to the position of compound head he is morally bound to leave his dependants in possession of plots allocated to them by his predecessor. This principle is usually observed, for " a fai only has the power to give a new place (one not already allotted) to a stranger, a place which people are working he ought not to give a stranger." The circumstances in which a person might be called upon to forfeit his claims will be discussed later. But it should be pointed out that a fai should only evict a dependant who has committed a serious breach of duty. Action for any other reason is likely to be regarded as arbitrary and would provoke the just question: " Where have I erred ? I have not spoilt anything. Why are you angry? (M si djai ka? Be m yo bivirne kifa. Aa ki bani fegha?)". Nevertheless if a fai persists in reclaiming a plot against the wishes of his dependants there is nothing to be done about it, as the following incident will illustrate. Unfortunately, Fai-o-Bum again figures as the villain of the piece, or as one who frequently acts in a way contrary to Nsaw values.¹

One day I arrived at John's compound to find him perturbed and rather angry about a plot which was a short distance from his house and which had lain fallow for five years. He told me that his wife, Mary, and also two inherited wives of Fai-o-Bum, had been given these by the late fai long ago. John had intended clearing it but had just discovered another man (to whom he at first referred as a " stranger ") had forestalled him. John said he was going to ask the man who had given him permission and report the matter to Fai-o-Bum. It was then that he made the statement which I have quoted several times previously, to the effect that a fai has no power to re-allocate a plot which a person is farming. He also admitted that the stranger was in reality a ' brother' who had gone to live in Ketiwum. He was particularly incensed because he had rendered him many services such as looking after his kola trees and mangoes.

When I next met John and asked him about the dispute he said ruefully that he had given way, since his ' brother ' was the elder and he did not wish to quarrel.² Moreover, the two inherited wives of the Fai had apparently made no strong objection to surrendering their plots, which were adjacent. Without their support his position was weak, but he still considered that his rights had been infringed and he cherished a grievance.

¹ Fai-o-Burn was in some respects a likable person, rather astute, and always courteous to me. I regret that I must so often cite actions (or sometimes lack of action) which place him in an unfavourable light; but, as every anthropologist knows, a breach of custom is often one of the means by which a deeper insight into values and attitudes is obtained. Fai-o-Bum, by his lapses from Nsaw standards of conduct, often provided this!

² It is significant that John, in his first outburst of anger, deliberately referred to his father's brother's son as a "stranger"; that is, he temporarily repudiated the relationship. Later in a calmer mood, he emphasized the kinship tie as a reason for ceding his claim.

It remains to discuss the circumstances in which a fai has legal and some moral rights of justification for withdrawing rights of usufruct from a beneficiary who is a kinsman. Not far from Bum there was a small compound which had been founded by a father's brother of Fai-o-Bum. The compound head had only the status of ngaalaa (as he was still a dependant of Bum), but on account of his age and the fact that he had one married son, Maximilian, and another, Dwemfe, he was sometimes addressed as she as a matter of courtesy. (fee gee'eer geesin). About a year before my arrival he contracted a serious illness, but although Fai-o-Bum passed the compound almost daily on his way to drink wine at one of his clubs, he rarely called in to enquire after his 'son', to sit with him, and to hear his dying wishes. However, once the ngaalaa was dead, the Fai made a prompt appearance in the compound and seized the livestock, clothes and money to which he was legally entitled; but he discovered that Dwemfe had hidden his father's dane-gun because he was angry about the neglect shown by the Fai previously. The Fai persisted in his attempts to secure possession of the gun, but was reluctant to take the matter to court because of the publicity which would be thrown on his own unfatherly conduct towards the dying man. But in 1949 he ordered Dwemfe to relinquish two farm plots which were large and at a convenient distance from his compound.

The reactions of the other dependants of Fai-o-Bum are of particular interest here. John and some of the wives of the Fai admitted that Dwemfe had legitimate cause for grievance in the callousness and lack of care which the Fai had displayed when the ngaalaa was dying. But, while they recognized the hardship which the Fai's decision entailed for Dwemfe's wife, they did not question the Fai's right to reclaim the land; and, in fact, the regarded his action as inevitable once it was clear that the breach would not be healed. In the dry season of 1947, Dwemfe's wife had only a little over 0.33 acre for cultivation and, by the end of the year, Dwemfe was buying grain for the household. Fortunately, his income was somewhat above the average and, moreover he had taken steps to improve his position for the coming year. Through his mother he was a distant relative of the Føn and in formal conversation he repudiated his ties with the m'tar lineage of his father and stressed that he was a wir-duiy. He was on very friendly terms with a relative of his mother who lived in a compound not far away; he attended the weekly djanggi there, and cultivated the friendship of its fai who, in February 1948, lent him a fairly large plot of land.

In another incident, which concerned the same compound, Fai-o-Bum appeared in a better light. Dwemfe's brother, Maximilian, was a Christian who was a somewhat cantankerous and idle fellow, although he had a wife and three children to support. At different times he had been entrusted with the care of stands of raffia by their owners and had profited from the perquisites which went with the task, namely some of the wine and also the poles, which are cut away when the palm is tapped. In each case he skimped his duties and lost the job. Eventually, his own Fai, Bum, put him in charge of one stand of raffia, but again Maximilian performed the task in a negligent fashion and at last said he wanted to give it up. Fai-o-Bum was very angry and threatened to deprive Maximilian's wife of her farm plots, - a course of action in which he had the support of some of the men of the compound. The Fai was reported to have said: " If you give up one thing, you give up all " (a mati ki mø'øn, a mati vidzëm); and my informant went on to explain that a man cannot accept one thing (such as farm land) from his ' Father' (the Fai) and, at the same time, refuse others (in this case, the care of a small clump of raffia and the perquisites which went with it). A man should be grateful for anything the Fai may give him. In the end, the Fai relented over the land out of

pity for Maximilian's wife Rebecca. " She weeps before the Fai: 'Where is her ground? She has two children. Where is her work ?' Then the Fai says: 'Go and work!' (But) he is estranged from Maximilian. Maximilian's conduct is not good. The Fai will tap the raffia. Maximilian is always having quarrels." (Rebecca wu tøng fai: 'win nsaiy yelia? Wu ker wøng a baa. Lim dzë fee?' Neen fai sungnin: 'duri a lim!' Wu meeng Maximilian. Li o Maximilian bo wu yo bøng. Fai wu wi reen ruu rë. Maximilian sa nsa ghansidzom).

It remains to consider the rights of a woman to lend a plot or a section of a plot to others for a short period. This type of arrangement, as pointed out earlier, is to be distinguished from the right of a fai, since it is a matter of mutual convenience and is not legally binding on either party. Nor does the new farmer hand over a basket of grain at harvest. The practice indicates, however, the confidence which the men repose in the judgment of the women, and their recognition that the women, as farmers, should in most cases be left to decide the use to which the land is put. Even when a woman has received plots from her husband, she does not necessarily consult him first and he generally supports her in the event of a dispute. For instance, Mary, the wife of John, gave a woman friend in a neighbouring compound permission to cultivate a small area. In the following year she withdrew the right, not because of any quarrel, but because she deemed it expedient to resume control. The woman's husband begged John to reverse Mary's decision, but John's reply was "Mary has refused. The matter is closed. (Mary wu binsine. Ki maini)."

The motives which influence a woman to make a plot available to another may be those of friendship, a desire to help one in need, or to make a return for past services. Sometimes it happens that, in an area which has lain fallow for several years, all the women begin cultivation in the same season except for one individual. Yet her patch with its tall grasses will then become a sanctuary for pests and small animals which will ravage the crops on the surrounding farms; and, out of consideration for the farmers, she may allow one to take over the plot for the year.

There are two other practices which throw light on the woman's rights. In the first place rizga is often planted on the high hill-tops where other crops do not thrive. The plots are extremely small (two or three hundred square yards or even less) and the fai does not bother to demarcate the boundaries. Instead, on an appointed day, the women of the compound, under the leadership of the senior wife of the fai, ascend the hill. Each pegs out a claim sufficient for her needs and, if there is any bickering, the senior wife steps in to quell it. Sometimes finger millet is planted the following year, but after that the land usually reverts to grass fallow for 8 or 10 years.

In regard to the farm plots allocated by her husband or her father, we have already seen that she often chooses who is to cultivate them once she has decided to surrender them permanently. She would, in such a case, designate certain kin only: a son or daughter, a husband's brother's son or daughter if the land belongs to her husband's lineage, or a son, daughter, brother or sister if the land belongs to her own father's lineage. Again and again I encountered instances of this, and the pattern of tenure which emerges is that a certain number of farm plots tend to remain in the hands of a segment of the lineage - a man, his sons, and daughters, and his sons' sons. Of course, if a woman leaves her husband she forfeits any rights to plots received from him and also the standing crops, providing the marriage has been contracted legally,that is, with the consent of her own fai. On the other hand, if she has lived with her husband without the consent of her own fai and has only the status of a wiiy-o-tsheemin, she may harvest her crops, but runs the risk of a stormy encounter