CHAPTER FIVE "CATTLE TO CONCRETE": FULA PASTORALISTS IN TOWN By contrast to the Futa traders, discussed in chapter four, Haja Aisaitu was born into a traditional cattle herding family. She was "born with cattle". Haja moved to town aster her marriage to a Futa trader. Over the years, the town, rather than the "bush" became home, and her visits to the warri grew less and less frequent. Today, the number of traditional herd-owners who have settled in town remains small; although increasingly, Kebu and Tellico herd-owners are beginning to build in Yogomaia and make the move from "cattle to concrete".

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i. Haja Aisaitu's move to town. Haja Aisaitu was born and raised in a cattle camp. As a young girl, she had learnt to milk, to make butter, keep a tidy house, and all the other tasks and skills required in later married life. Haja Aisaitu was not sure where exactly she was born, but it was certainly within Sierra Leone, for it was said that her patrilineal grandfather had first entered the Protectorate territory at the turn of the century. The family herds would have moved from place to place over the years, but at the time of Haja Aisaitu's marriage it appears that the family were situated "behind Balandugu", a hilly area seven or eight miles north of Kabala. Haja Aisaitu did not tell me very much about her marriage to Alimamy Jalloh. (*1) But on several occasions, she told me that she had not wanted to marry Alimamy Jalloh as she had not wished to leave the warri. Haja Aisaitu's father had died whilst she was still young, so it was through her father's brother, who had taken over the responsibility for her upbringing, that the marriage negotiations took place. Haja Aisaitu claimed that he was a chief. At the time of this marriage, Alimamy Jalloh already had two wives. The first, Haja Ami was a "Sanda" Fula from Tonkolili District, his second, Haja Fatmata, was born in Freetown. Neither of these wives had borne. However, Haja Aisaitu did not transfer to town immediately after her marriage, and I gathered that Haja Aisaitu became responsible for milking Alimamy Jalloh's cattle. I do not know whether Alimamy Jalloh yet held sufficient cattle for them to be herded separately, or whether his cattle formed part of a larger herding unit. Haja Aisaitu's move to town was a gradual process, despite the affection shown by her two senior co-wives, Haja Ami, and especially Haja Fatmata. Kabala was much smaller in those days, but for a young woman used to living in a small and isolated settlement, the town must have felt strange and rather forbidding. (*2) "At first", Haja Aisaitu told me, "I couldn't eat the food they cooked. So much pepper! I was only used to eating cow's milk." But with Alimamy Jalloh's encouragement, and in partnership with Haja Fatmata, Haja Aisaitu began to trade in rice and maize; some of which she grew herself, the rest purchased from local farmers at harvest time. Haja Aisaitu was also involved in the preparation of bottled fresh milk and churned butter which was taken, seemingly on a regular basis, to "the whitemen" at the District Office. Over time, Haja Aisaitu grew accustomed to life in town and Kabala became home. Haja Aisaitu offered a number of retrospective "reasons" for her move from the cattle camp into town. These reasons, were often recounted to me as specific instances or happenings, and usually emphasised two factors: Haja Aisaitu's own reluctance to leave the cattle camp, and Alimamy Jalloh's kindly insistence that she should do so. For example, " I became ill and had pains in my head. My man said, 'leave the warri. Let us find medicine for you.' He took me to a hospital in Makeni, and to Guinea..." (*3) Another version: "My man saw my hands and said, 'Oh Haja! Your hands are ruined (i.e. rough). You are working too hard. It isn't fitting. I will take you from the warri' ". In Kabala, Haja Aisaitu lived in Alimamy Jalloh's main house with her her co-wives. As Alimamy Jalloh prospered and his status in the community increased so did the

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size of his household. He obtained further properties throughout the town, in which his younger wives and numerous other relatives resided. I previously mentioned that Alimamy Jalloh, no doubt aware of the difficulties that faced childless women, encouraged his wives to look to their future security. His wives adopted his advice and although Haja Aisaitu continued to live in the main house along with her two senior co-wives until Alimamy Jalloh's death, she invested in property within Yogomaia. By early 1984, when I arrived in Kabala, the finishing touches were being made to the grandest of the four houses Haja Aisaitu, by that time, owned. All four houses were situated in Yogomaia. Three of the houses were adjacent to each other. Of these, one was Haja Aisaitu's residence, the second and oldest of the houses was rented to the Peace Corps, with the third and most recent house rented to the Koinadugu Integrated Agricultural Development Project. The fourth house was leased to the District Office. Although the houses had been built over a number of years, they were of similar design, and all, save the Peace Corps Rest House, were constructed of concrete, rather than mud block. I cannot be certain of the financial sources which provided for the construction of the earlier houses, but I learnt that the final house had been built using money obtained from the rent of the other properties and from cattle sold specifically for this purpose. Around the time of my arrival in Kabala, Haja Aisaitu sold two cows to pay for the corrugated iron roofing on the new house, which had cost around Le.2000 and Le.240 for labour. However, following the death of Alimamy Jalloh, Haja Aisaitu had been forced to rely more and more on the sale of her cattle to support herself and her family. In contrast, the construction of the earlier houses had not necessitated the sale of so many cattle, she utilised profits from her extensive trading activities. Haja told me that when she had been in the warri she had owned a farm that produced up to forty bags of swamp rice per season. (The labour was contracted to local Yalunka farmers and young Fula herdsmen, who were paid on a daily basis). Haja Aisaitu also produced ten bags of cassava (bantara F.) from an upland site. On moving to town she concentrated on trading in rice, buying at harvest time and selling at the beginning of the next rainy season for a profit, maybe up to "four-times" (i.e. four hundred per cent). Haja Aisaitu told me that both she and Haja Fatmata would buy up to one hundred bags of rice each season. They sold both husk rice (kanda Kr. maraumo F.) and clean rice (paboyl res, Kr. nendi maro F.). An important market they exploited consisted of development and government workers, brought in from outside the area, and thus dependent upon purchased foodstuff. By 1984, neither of these women continued to trade on any scale although Smiti, one of the younger former co-wives, still had a reputation as a rice-trader. Haja Aisaitu frequently emphasised that she did not have to eat her own rice: rather, she ate the food that was provided by Alimamy Jalloh. The contributions in rice and other food produce that Haja Aisaitu made to the household were evidently "paid" for with (the periodic gift of?) a cow. "My man didn't think it was right to "eat" a wife's property", she explained. Under such a generous regime, Haja Aisaitu was free to use the profits from her trade to purchase further cattle, small stock (which she had formerly kept in town)(*4) and houses. It seems likely that if Haja Aisaitu had borne a child to Alimamy Jalloh, there would have resulted a far closer relationship between her husband and her own family. Similarly, the development of a stable domestic sub-grouping, in which Haja Aisaitu

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figured as mother to Alimamy Jalloh's children, would possibly have encouraged the further movement of her own family into town. (*5) However, this did not take place, and although Haja Aisaitu had no difficulty in surrounding herself with young dependants, her quasi-independent position remained precarious. (See above) Despite owning a number of properties within Yogomaia, none of these houses were, as far as I am aware, ever rented to her Kebu kinsmen, who showed little interest in moving to town. (But see below for more recent developments.) As it was, when I came to know Haja Aisaitu in 1984 her relationships with her own male kinsmen were strained. Perhaps, when Alimamy Jalloh was alive things were different, since Haja Aisaitu would have found herself in a more influential interstitial position between the Fula headman and her kin. But on this point I can only speculate. On the other hand, it is certain that Haja Aisaitu was in part responsible for the pressure that she faced from her male kinsmen. For after Alimamy Jalloh's death, she was heavily dependent on the sale of her cattle to maintain her Yogomaia household. However, by the time I knew Haja Aisaitu, she no longer visited her cattle camp.(*6) When I pressed her on the reasons behind this apparent unwillingness to visit her cattle, Haja Aisaitu would usually try to avoid the issue. She would either tell me of her plans to visit during the next dry season, or when the camp was moved, or some other future date. When pressed, she would draw attention to her "ill health", and say that she would go when she felt better. Haja Aisaitu never admitted that she no longer had an interest in going to the warri, and on other occasions, when I was being less provocative in my questions, she would eulogise about life in the cattle camps. But clearly, Haja Aisaitu's attitudes had changed. The image of the shy young bride, understanding little or no Krio, and understanding the affairs of cattle rather better than the affairs of men, remained in her memory to be relived and reinvented from time to time, but Haja Aisaitu was no longer that young bride. (Perhaps her reluctance to return to the warri was, in part, a way of maintaining, unblemished, her idealised visions of her past.) ii. From cattle to concrete: other pastoralists in town. During the 1960's the Fula District Headman, the late Alimamy Jalloh, cognisant of the changing political and economic situation, encouraged members of the Fula pastoral sub-groups to move into town. He married Haja Aisaitu, who came from a family of wealthy Kebu pastoralists, and latter took a Tellico bride. From what I could gather, Alimamy Jalloh argued that the political aspirations of the Fula could be better advanced from the town rather than the bush, although he was, no doubt, also well aware of the value of making visible his own political supporters. He also argued that house-building was a good investment. I do not suppose that he used the phrase "as safe as houses", but that seems to be the message he put across. (*7) However, as I have already observed, few of Haja Aisaitu's close consanguinal kin chose to follow her to Kabala, and her Kebu kinfolk, by and large, remained with their herds, scattered throughout the surrounding district. True, over the years, Haja Aisaitu was joined in town by a small number of her female relatives: former dependants she had "minded", and had, subsequently, married locally. But for the most part, even these former dependants had moved away from Kabala. I have already suggested that Haja Aisaitu's childlessness is one possible factor in

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explaining her isolation from her near kin but, as a general point, it also appears that the Fula pastoralists were reluctant to follow Alimamy Jalloh's advice. One day Haja Aisaitu, whilst talking in a general way about problems associated with house building, commented how the situation was changing. Her family, she observed, were moving "from cattle to concrete". She explained that more and more herders were selling cattle in order to build houses in town. Clearly, attitudes had changed over recent years, and I was surprised to discover a cluster of seven, or so, Kebu houses, more or less complete but as yet unoccupied, in New site; which, as the name suggests, is an area of current urban development. I suspect that there were a number of other houses in Kabala being constructed by "traditional" herd-owners that escaped my attention. In general, Haja Aisaitu thought that it was "a good thing" to build in Kabala, and fondly remembered her husband's views on the matter. But she was also highly critical of herd owners who appeared too willing to sell off their cattle to achieve this. As I have already noted, Haja always appeared reluctant to sell any of her cattle, although she had done so to finance the construction of her most recent property, and continued to do so, periodically, to cover her regular household expenses. Building houses in Kabala is an expensive business. Living in town is also comparatively expensive. Yet, I discovered, for increasing numbers of Pulaar Burruwe, (*8) both young and old, women and men, town is seen as the place to be. Even some herd owners, reluctant to move into town themselves, may be pressurised by other family members into building a town house. One such man explained to me that once his house was completed, he would install his senior wife and one of his sons in the town, but he would remain living in his camp. Other less private souls, look forward to retiring from the business of herding cattle, to enter the busy social world of "hearing cases", going to meetings and rituals etc., that dominates so much of the "big-man's time in Kabala. Some herd-owners build their houses, piecemeal, over many years by selling a few cattle at a time to cover expenses as they occur. Other herd-owners, despite potential opposition from their sons, may sell off a substantial section of the herd to build a house, perhaps at the same time they finance their Hajj. Some younger herdsmen, with the advantage of a developing market for beef, by careful trading with their own and other people's cattle, have been able to amass sufficient capital to begin house-building at quite a young age, thirty years or so. To own a house in Kabala at such an age is an impressive achievement, but to own a town house at any age is prestigious. Further discussion of many of these points occur below. As I have just pointed out, of the twelve or so houses owned by "traditional" herd-owners, few are presently occupied, and there are but a small number of pastoralists permanently resident in Kabala. Owing to the heavy expenses involved, the decision to build a town house is an important one. But there are other possibilities: active participation in the affairs of the Fula community in Kabala is not dependent on house ownership. For instance, every Friday, large numbers of Fula from the surrounding district enter Kabala, to pray, and to visit family and friends. During Rammadan, and over other religious celebrations, visitors may seek to stay for a few days. And, of course, there is always the possibility or renting, on a permanent basis, a room or two in town. All these "strategies" were adopted by Alhaji Momadu Bah and Cherno

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Wurie, two of Haja Aisaitu's near kinsmen. (For the actual genealogical relationships, please see above.) Alhaji Momadu lived in a warri near Fadugu, a small town approximately twenty-five miles south of Kabala. Chernor Wurie lived in a warri near Dogoloya, ten miles north of Kabala. Both these men were frequent visitors to Haja Aisaitu, they would often come on Friday and possibly stay over-night or even longer. During Rammadan for instance, Alhaji Momadu spent most of his time at Haja Aisaitu's house. The wives and children were less frequent visitors to Haja Aisaitu, although during the Fast Month and other religious celebrations, they too would come and greet. (*9) Haja Aisaitu did not charge rent. And, as I noted above, none of her four houses were rented to kinsmen. However, both Alhaji Momadu and Cherno Wurie rented rooms in town. Alhaji Momadu rented a single room in Fadugu, which he used on a periodic basis: for example, for staying overnight after a visit to Fadugu market. As far as I am aware, this room was not permanently occupied by other members of this family. By contrast, Cherno Wurie rented a single room in Kabala, in which he had installed his youngest wife. I do not know how often Cherno Wurie visited this woman, for it is possible that he frequented town, without calling into see Haja Aisaitu. However, Cherno Wurie contined to stay over-night at Haja Aisaitu's, on a regular basis, possibly for the greater domestic comforts that she was willing, albeit reluctantly at times, to provide. Neither Cherno Wurie nor Alhaji Momadu had a great deal of business to conduct in Kabala. Both men were "traditional" herders, and neither engaged in cattle trading. By and large, their affairs in Kabala concerned the various long-running disputes that involved Haja Aisaitu's property. However, both men had plans to settle in Kabala. Cherno Wurie's house in New Site, which he had been building over a number of years was nearing completion. And, whilst Alhaji Momadu had not yet begun to build on the nearby plot of land he owned, the death of Haja Aisaitu, his full sister, made it likely that he would now transfer to her Yogomaia house.(*10) Post-marital residence is normally virilocal, and marriage between a young herder and a Kabala-born woman will not necessarily effect or hasten a move to town. However, the practice of widow-inheritance, may make it possible for an older man to transfer from the cattle camp to town. One example was brought to my attention by Haja Aisaitu. An elderly Kebu herd-owner, had "inherited" one of Haja Aisaitu's former co-wives. Although he was not, in fact, a relation, the man moved into the woman's house, seemingly on a permanent basis. Haja Aisaitu was most critical of this turn of events. Not only did she view this as another example of the ways in which men could manipulate the practice of widow-inheritance, to gain access to resources, (see above) Haja Aisaitu was also critical of the fact that the man had turned his back on his own wives back at the cattle camp. As far as I could make out, the man was not in the best of health, and seemed to spend much of his day asleep in a hammock on the verandah of his wife's house. Haja Aisaitu was not sympathetic, being convinced that he merely wanted to act the part of a "big man" in town.

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