Weeding of all crops (except millet) is regarded as a relatively light task, at least in retrospect!¹ It may be done fairly leisurely during the wet season providing there is food to sustain the worker, not to mention good health. Much depends on the region. In the forest and plains the "hungry period" is short and not very intensive except in a bad year, when the harvest has been small or a delay in the onset of the rainy season has hindered the maturing of sweet potatoes, planted about February. But on the uplands and in Nsaw particularly, where I had most opportunity for watching the women at their work and hearing their daily comments, the women labour under difficulties. The weather is inclement: cold dank mists fill the valleys in the early morning the women huddle over their fires and are reluctant to go forth. They complain frequently of being off-colour, of having headaches, and pains; and, indeed, many do succumb to influenza, pleurisy and fever. The men are not very sympathetic and accuse the women of indulging in self pity (viki sham wun feyi); but then the men need not go out into the cold and drizzle. They may while away the morning over a fire, and wax garrulous with frequent potations of palm wine! Food is short, and instead of 2 lbs. of porridge, which is a normal breakfast in times of plenty, a woman may have only 1/2 lb. and a few ounces of greens on which to do a day's work in the fields. My unwittingly tactless inquiries as to what the women had had for breakfast produced such answers as "hunger clutches me tightly" (djing koo mo feyi); or "there is only a licking of fingers at the beginning of the hungry period" (fhshweem adzë hu søø); or "my belly is heaving because I have eaten only spinach"; or "I only ate pumpkin leaves. Today is hunger." When the women return in the evening they prepare something for the children; but, if they have no dependants, they may give way to their weariness and simply lie down and sleep. It is little wonder that, when the maize is harvested, women and children (not to forget the men) gorge themselves on slabs of porridge, and top off the meal with a few roasted cobs. A woman comments with pride on the fatness and sleekness of her young daughter, and declares joyfully: "hunger goes forth from the house!"

The statements which I have quoted express more vividly than any description of mine something of the moods and the reactions of the women to particular hardships during the period of the rains from May to the end of July. My observations confirmed that their complaints had a foundation in fact: often the women (and the men) were short of food; often they went down with the coughs and colds which spread from one member of the family to another in the confined and ill-ventilated sleeping quarters of a small hut. According to my inquiries, similar conditions also prevail in the other upland areas such as Nsungli, Oku, and parts of Kom. However, it should be stressed that the very pithiness of the women's remarks may create a picture of unabated hardship, chronic disgruntlement, and little respite from labour. This would be false. The question of the amount of leisure of which the women avail themselves will be discussed in the following section. But here it should be pointed out that hunger and illness are not always inmates of the house, though a visitation is always imminent in the period of the rains. Again, complaints about the weather, health, and food do not imply that farm work is regarded as drudgery, though it becomes a burden in certain circumstances and has its monotonous and exacting phases, as indeed most tasks have.

On the whole, the women tackle their jobs with interest, zest, and pride - attitudes which are communicated at a very early age to their young daughters.

¹ In Tala and Mbwot in Nsungli, groups of women meet together from time to time, after the harvest of maize, to drink beer. Outside the house they place the yellow flower of one of the worst weeds, as a sign that the men are not to enter. The weed symbolizes the "trouble" which the women have had in cultivating the maize, and emphasizes their right to enjoy the product of their industry.

As one wiry old woman, who farmed 1.3 acres, explained to me: If I have strength, I work well. If I have eaten, I work well. I (and others like me) are happy." When the women described to me their idea of a good life, they did not visualize it in terms of a cessation of farmwork. Like the old woman I have quoted, they desired primarily good health (for themselves and their children) so that they might work well; and a husband, who would provide salt and oil, as well as extra food when household supplies ran short during the period of scarcity. For the odd woman (and I met only three in Kimbaw), who neglected her plots in the hope that a husband would buy food in the market from his regular earnings as Government employee or U.A.C. storeboy, they had contempt, not envy. They condemned her improvidence and laziness; they did not regard her as a superior being. Their attitude was not, I think, a matter of sour grapes. In the first place, they were ready to respect the Christian woman who, although enjoying a higher standard of living because of her husband's income, nevertheless worked hard at the farm and engaged regularly in petty trade. Secondly, they considered that idleness led to bad habits. As one friend pointed out to me: "If she sits down idly, has no work, then in a little while she is begging, and then stealing."

And here I would emphasize that the responsibility of women for agriculture is not regarded by them (or by men) as a sign of inferior status. On the contrary, it confers status and is bound up with feminine self respect and dignity. They take all the pride of an expert in their work; they value the encomiums of others; they are sensitive to charges of laziness and of having ill-kept plots. But it is worth pointing out that they have little praise for the field-drudge, for the woman who, in her absorption in her farming, has not the time for a little gossip, and who works on oblivious of the presence of her neighbours. I once heard two women (one, a Christian in her thirties, the other a pagan in her late fifties) discussing a somewhat unpopular member of the compound, as they watched her bend untiringly over her hoe. "She only looks at the earth; she does not gossip at all! She works, then passes on; she does not speak. Silent always! Silence is a very bad thing!"¹ Between the sexes there is a certain amount of good-humoured teasing about their respective duties, each minimizing the contribution of the other. If bickering develops a serious turn, a woman may fling the taunt at her husband: "a man's only work is to drink palm wine!" But the men, in their more sober moments, acknowledge the importance of the women's work; and the women, on their side, admit that the occupations of the men are complementary to their own, though less time-consuming. As one of my friends put it, when I found her grinding maize after seven in the evening, "A woman's work is never finished!" But here I must intervene to point out that, while a woman's tasks on the days that she goes to the farms do seem almost endless, she does not go every day to the farm.

LEISURE

In most Bamenda tribes there are one or two days in the week, which are traditionally regarded as rest days in that the women do not do any heavy work at the farm unless, for various reasons, weeding has fallen into arrears or there is some task requiring urgent attention. Among many of the Tikar communities one of these days is associated with the death of a Føn: the women refrain from using a hoe, and the reigning Føn remains in seclusion. Generally, market day is a day for relaxation, visiting and foregathering in the market place. An attempt in 1947 on the part of the Fon-Nsaw to exclude the women from the market on the grounds that they were wasting maize to

¹ The Lamenso text is: "wu lei nsaiy tshatsha; la wu yo køng fee feer kinfeer ghee. Wu lim neena tøssin; la yo sungnin kisungnin. Kisësë ghansidzëm. Kisësë ke bir ki feyi!"

brew beer for sale, that they were not working hard enough, and that they were making assignations with young men, aroused deep resentment among the women themselves though they stood in too great a fear of the Føn to organize overt resistance. Their attitude was that the women were always working, that the food was theirs to dispose of as they pleased, and that many depended on petty trade to provide necessaries for the household. Fortunately, pressure was brought to bear on the Føn from other quarters, and the new rule was dropped - to the delight and relief of the women. In Nsaw, there are five markets which occur on different days; that in Kimbaw is on a kaaviy, which may be regarded as the beginning of the week. The third day is kiloovëiy, one considered appropriate for marriage ceremonies, and housebuilding; while the sixth day, ngoilum, commemorates a Føn's death.¹ Christians, of course, observe the sabbath and decide for themselves whether to take advantage of the traditional rest days. It should be noted that the rest days (vishi ve bam) are spaced so that a woman need not spend more than two consecutive days at the farm. In other tribes the period is often longer.²

Nsaw women may legitimately rest from farm work on three days in an eight-day week and, if questioned why they are at home on such days, the reason given is: "it is a rest day" or "it is market day."³ Absence from the farm on traditional working days is, on the other hand, nearly always due to some specific reason rather than a desire for leisure: sickness, preparation of food for house-building or a marriage, a protracted visit to a bride; or, more rarely, the brewing of beer or the cooking of food to sell in the market on the following day. In theory, then, a woman spends 62.5% of the days of the year on her farm; and 37.5% engaged in matters other than farm work. What is the position in fact? It was only in Kimbaw that a relatively uninterrupted period of fieldwork enabled me to keep diaries of the activities of some of the women; and, in the discussion to follow, I shall analyse, in some detail, the data which were obtained, for they have a relevance for other tribes. As I have pointed out earlier, farm work in Nsaw is, I think, heavier than in any other area, and therefore conclusions as to the percentage of days spent at the farms may be taken as representing the maximum demands made on the time of a Bamenda woman.

On pages 75-79 I have tabulated figures based on the diaries of 30 individuals (25 adult women and 5 adolescent girls), kept from the 28th September, 1947, to the 9th March, 1948 (total - 164 days), but not all are equally complete. For eleven women I have records for 160 to 164 days; for ten between 150 and 159 days; for six between 130 and 149 days; and for three between 89 and 129 days. The sample was not a random one, but was determined by the accessibility of individuals to my compound, and by the friendly relationships which I had established with most of them during

¹ The Nsaw days of the week are: kaaviy, røøvëiy, killovëiy, nsøøri, geegee, ngoilum, wailun, ntangrin.

² In most tribes, the "rest-days " are spaced so that women work for 3 or 4 consecutive days; but in Koshin they work for 6 days and rest for the next 2. In Lus (Mfumte) some of the women said to me, "we only rest when there is a death!" Actually, they were at that time (December) enjoying a slack period, and had come from the huts on the farms to spend a couple of months in the village.

³ Audelia of Mbonyaar compound had been delayed in her weeding and preparation of yam plots by the illness of her child. When I expressed surprise that she was going to the farm on market day (kaaviy), she replied: "I have the sorrow of pulling out weeds, pulling out weeds, up (the slope), down (the slope). The time is passing quickly. I must go and cut the seed-yams at Dzøø-Dzøng. (M keer meendzen me sho kipwi, sho kipwi, fee ta, fee røng. Ghanse si shaa feyi. M ku du keeti run-ree fee Dzøødzøng.)" A moment later, she was standing by when I asked another woman what her plans were for the day. Audelia interposed with the remark: "She has no illness to hinder her work as I have. She may stay here. (Bo wu yo keer yassi wo djivir lim rë mo mo. Wu waa røsi feen.)"

my first tour. However in selecting a hut in which to live for the last six months, I chose one in Mbonyaar compound because it, and some of the compounds in the vicinity, provided me with a fair cross-section of the Nsaw community. The lineage head of Mbonyaar was of m'tar status and had four pagan wives. There were fourteen other adults, two of whom were also pagans, and a number of children. The Christian households included individuals of all ages and, among these, were an unmarried mother, two widows and two divorcees. The men followed diverse occupations, - tailoring, bricklaying, general trade, and manual labour for the government. Adjacent to Mbonyaar was Ka, a sub-lineage of the same clan, where I kept the diaries of two large Christian families, one male household-head being a tailor, and the other a blacksmith. Ten minutes' walk up the valley lay the compound of Menggu, an offshoot of Djem, where Tanye, a pagan trader, lived with his wife and small child. Half a mile beyond this was the outlying compound of Djem, which was entirely pagan except for one large Christian family. I recorded there the activities of the Fai, four of his pagan wives, two pagan monogamous households, a pagan widow living alone and, finally, the members of the Christian family. A sketch plan of the four compounds is given in Appendix D.

Usually I visited the compounds in the early morning and again in the late evening, but occasionally I missed individuals because either they were away in another part of the village, or had not returned from their farms. Whenever possible I pursued inquiries the following day, but sometimes owing to an oversight on my part the information was not obtained. Incompleteness of records occurred mainly in the first few weeks, and more especially in those for some of the adolescent girls, whom I had not at first realized were accompanying their mothers regularly to the farm.¹ Where I have details for only two or three days in a week, I have omitted them from my calculations.

I have given three lots of figures in Tables V, VI, and VII: (i) for the period between the 28th September and the 24th December 1947; (ii) for the 25th December 1947 to the 9th March 1948; and (i and ii) for the full period. In the case of four individuals (Nos. 1, 23, 26 and 27), my information for the first period was so patchy that I have not included it, though it has been taken into account for the whole period. My reason for making the subdivision is inherent in the nature of seasonal activities throughout the year. As I have already pointed out, there is a relatively slack period after the maize harvest, in the sense that the weeding of finger millet and the preparation of small beds for cowpeas, greens, and beans can be carried on at a fairly leisurely pace, without much interruption for other tasks. On the 25th December the Føn had it announced in the market that the harvest of finger millet might begin, and thenceforward the burden of farmwork became much heavier. There is another point of some importance: the percentage of days spent by the average woman at her farm during the six months concerned may be considered as fairly typical of the whole year. In my first tour I spent from April to the end of October 1945 in Kimbaw and, although I kept no diaries, my information indicated that agriculture, at that time, had also its phases of intensive activity and relatively light work.

In my diaries I recorded for each individual the name of the farm visited, the kind of work done, and whether assistance was given or received; but the analysis of such material must wait for another report. The occasions when

¹ There was one woman who was at first reticent and even bad-tempered in response to my inquiries, and for a time I omitted to visit her. But, after awhile, she began to resent my seeming lack of interest in her activities, and begged me to come and see her daily, as I did the other women in the compound.

a woman spent only a half day at the farm were relatively few in number and, in this report, have been treated as full days. Sometimes a fall of rain interrupted the work, or perhaps, on a traditional "rest day", a few hours would be spent gathering greens, or digging out tubers for the evening meal.¹ Days spent in the compound, or in visiting friends and kin, have been treated as periods of leisure; while in estimating the amount of time lost for illness I have included not only that of the individual concerned but that devoted to the care of a sick child, another relative or a friend, and to mourning. My records contain several cases of protracted incapacity,² but, even when these are excluded, the percentage of days spent at the farm during the whole period still falls below that devoted in theory to farm work. The percentage of days lost for personal illness has been placed in brackets.

The results tabulated on pp. 75, 76, 77, 78, and 79 are to a great extent self-explanatory, and my comments merely underline them. There is a significant difference between the amount of time allotted to farmwork in the first and second periods: namely, 48.6%, as compared with 56.9%; or, if cases with over 10% lost for illness are excluded, then 58.8%, as compared with 63,8% (vide, Tables VI and VII). In the first period there was only one woman who worked more than 62.5% of the days at the farm; whereas in the second there were twelve, despite the fact that some were incapacitated by illness and took less than 25% of the remaining days for leisure. Again, in the first period it was rare for women to go to the farm for more than two or three consecutive days; while in the second, it was common for them to spend from five to seven, especially when preparing beds for yams and completing the re-weeding of plots for maize. These facts all support my contention that the women work harder during the peak of the dry season than during the rest of the year.

¹ From the 21st October to the 9th March, there were showers on only six days.

² The individuals concerned were No. 22, who had a bad abscess on her shoulder and who had to go to Bamenda Station Hospital; No. 24, who injured her foot; No. 10 who rested for nearly a month after confinement; No. 14 who went to the mission maternity clinic long before her child was due; Nos. 16 and 25 who suffered from acute bronchial attacks; No. 20 who had a sore eye, and so on.