Colonial historiography assumed that African societies were static, permanent, and primordial. The presence of “clans” in African societies was taken to prove to the case, for clans were seen as atavistic features that represented the legacy of a political order that preceded kingship. But in Rwanda there was a paradox associated with the concept of descent-based clans, for these supposedly kin-based units each included members of different ethnic identities, themselves also supposed to be based on descent: how could such unchanging descent groups each include members of different descent groups? (The paradox went further, for each of the ethnic categories included members of all clans.) This essay proposes a way out of this conundrum. But it goes further and addresses a methodological approach as well, illustrating how questions that arise in one society can be illuminated by data (and conceptual approaches) drawn from neighboring societies—even those presumed to be inferior and less important. Drawing on this approach, the essay suggests that that clan identities in Rwanda were themselves the prod-uct of a historical process—even deep social institutions have histories— and that the process of this historical construction becomes most apparent in an area of relatively recent incorporation to the political culture of Rwandan kingship (such as western Rwanda). In making this argument, the analysis relies on a concept of clan seen not as a biological descent group (though that was the ideology of clan membership), but as a social identity constructed as part of a broader cultural dynamic, associated with the ex-tension of royal power into this region. With clan identities seen as tools of incorporation into a new political domain, it became beneficial—even expected—that lineage groups would be included in one of the eighteen major clan groups associated with Rwandan political culture. In the process, however, individuals did not abandon earlier identities; these simply be-came subordinate identities— “subclans” or “major lineages,” in the language of outside observers. Like ethnic identity, clan identity became one of several levels of individual identity, with each level of identity drawn on in its own particular contexts. Furthermore, tracing the process of restructuring clan identities to conform to royal culture also helps date such transformations in this area to roughly the late eighteenth century, a time of royal expansion to the west. In short, as it explores the complex local effects of Rwanda’s expanding political culture, this essay raises fundamental questions on the permanence of Rwandan social institutions and suggests a methodological approach transcending Rwandan state ideologies.

If anthropologists come to look upon kinship as a parameter which can be studied in isolation, they will always be led … to think of human society as composed of equilibrium systems structured according to ideal legal rules…. The study of social adaptations to changing circumstances is made impossible…. My protest is not directed against the study of kinship … but against attempts to isolate kinship behavior as a distinct category explainable by jural rules without reference to context.

—Edmund R. Leach, Rethinking Anthropology

Only recently have precolonial African historical studies broken away from their fixation on dynastic histories and trade. In reassessing the dynastic traditions, historians of the African past have increasingly drawn on oral traditions from nonroyal sources. In particular, they have placed a great deal of emphasis on clan traditions, and the clan group has consequently served as an important building block in reconstructing the African past. But in Rwandan studies this process has often been undertaken in a rather uncritical manner; in fact, historians may have been building on a foundation that is less enduring than they realize, for their new construct is often based on the assumption of “primordial” clan units reaching far back into the past, antedating the dynastic political units of which they came to form a part. It is usually argued that these enduring clan units could absorb individuals from other clans or experience geographical expansion through migration; but the basic structure of clan identities is seen as unchanging.

This conception of the past has presented certain severe problems of explanation. On the one hand, Rwanda has been seen as a society divided into distinct, exclusive clan units. Membership in these units, it has been assumed, was determined by descent from a putative common ancestor, so that all members of a single clan were held to be ultimately related by descent, even if the exact genealogical ties had long since been forgotten. On the other hand, it was early realized that each of these clans contained members of different ethnic groups—Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa—groups that were also (theoretically) mutually exclusive and determined predominantly by descent. How, then, could members of a single clan be considered also members of different ethnic groups? How, if clans were originally subsections of a single ethnic group, could they have come to contain large proportions of members of other ethnic groups?

For a while this paradox was explained essentially by recourse to another Rwandan characteristic: the “caste” nature of the society, and the role of clientship in integrating the castes (or ethnic categories).By this reasoning it was the institution of clientship (notably ubuhake clientship) that united members of different ethnic groups. Therefore, by adopting the clan identity of a patron, clients could be adopted into a new clan while retaining their former ethnic identities. This explanation presupposed that a strong clientship system and a caste structure characterized by hierarchical ethnic identities existed before the multi-ethnic character of present clan structure emerged.

Recently, however, these assumptions have been questioned on several fronts. The work of Claudine Vidal has been important in initiating a general reassess-ment of the historical developments of the structures of clientship.¢ Subsequently, several other empirical studies in various regions of Rwanda have shown that the “caste” aspects of Rwandan society have been more flexible over time and more variable from region to region than had previously been thought. More impor-tant, the clientship structure (at least in the form it assumed under colonial rule) is now seen as a relatively recent phenomenon.s

In addition to the caste perception of Rwandan society, the rigid ethnic categories (Tutsi, Hutu, Twa), so characteristic of most portrayals of Rwandan society, have also been reconsidered. Recent studies have confirmed the flexibility of the categories remarked on in the earlier accounts; they have even questioned the duration of the hierarchical nature of the present ethnic categories in some contexts.Thus important reassessments are underway on several grounds once thought clearly defined for Rwandan society.

This text raises similar questions about the concept of clan as a historical category in the Rwandan context. It suggests that to explain the apparent contradictions in the empirical data we need to reexamine the concepts of clan status in Rwanda, and particularly to account for changes over time in these concepts. More precisely, it will argue that clan changes were not simply a result of individuals moving from one clan to another, or members of one clan dispersing over the land, but also a result of changes in the very conceptual categories from which clan identities derived.

But a word of caution is also called for. To question the concepts of client-ship, ethnicity, or clanship in historical perspective is not immediately to imply that no ethnic differences, clientship forms, or clan categories formerly existed in Rwanda at all. The reassessments noted above demonstrate the variability in form and significance of these institutions, the qualitative differences in conception and meaning. They do not address the simplistic question of presence or absence of these structures. Rather, we are interested here in the condition under which these institutions assumed certain forms, and how these relationships came to be what they are: it is context, not institutions, that is the ultimate focus of our inquiry.

Despite reconsiderations of clientship and caste as primordial to Rwandan society, the present clan structure in Rwanda has been assumed to be of great historical time depth. One reason for this assumption is the presumed lack of clan function within the present Rwandan system, or at least their lack of function as exogamous corporate groups. By this reasoning the present clans must therefore necessarily be survivals of an earlier period. The universality of clan structures throughout the area—and throughout Africa—was taken as another indication of the enormous time depth that the clans were assumed to represent. Looked at in terms of geographical spread (not internal institutional structures), clans were thought to be very old institutions; indeed, the historical problem of “clans” then became that of tracing their spread through migration, and their relations to political structures, especially to particular dynasties.

Despite this neat schema, there remained certain anomalies related to the internal structures of clan organization. One of these was that of accounting for the differences in clan systems, in particular differences between the Rwandan system and that of nearby areas. In Rwanda and Nkore, for example, clans tended to be much larger units, but at the same time much less numerous than clans in other Interlacustrine areas such as Bunyoro, Karagwe (Buhaya), and Burundi. This was generally accounted for by the migration and consequent fragmentation of earlier units into secondary units. The migration hypothesis both resolved the problem and reinforced the concept of a single origin of a given clan group.

Another problem for historians working with these assumptions in areas marked by multiethnic clans was that of determining the “origin” of a given clan within the ethnic categories and the consequent identification of each clan as (in the Rwanda case) either “Tutsi” or “Hutu.” This problem, of course, was based on the descent model of clanship, according to which clans derived from an individual of one or another ethnic group; therefore the multiethnic character of clans could be explained only by postulating mechanisms of integration and ab-sorption of members of other groups.In all these models the prevailing concept of clans is that of discrete boxes into which individuals are born and between which they can sometimes be transferred. Most works accept the possibility of personal interchange, but despite such individual mobility the boxes, the clan categories, remained unchanged.

Rather than viewing clans primarily as descent groups, I propose to look at the larger structure of clan identities—the arrangement and size of the boxes— as products of certain perceptions of society. Clan identities then are seen not to result from the individual relationship alone (as implied by descent theory concepts of clan); clan structure itself results from the classification of groups within the larger structure of society, and therefore clan identity reflects the relationship of the individual to that larger structure. From this perspective, the clan structure within society is not seen as the sum of various local-level elements (such as lineage structures) writ large, but as the pattern formed by the conception of society itself. To account adequately for the anomalies of clan organization mentioned above, therefore, means to account for these changing historical perceptions of society. Over the long term, it is this changing pattern of perceptions that determines, as well as results from, clan identities. Clientship, caste, and clans were not randomly changing, to be sure, but neither were they static, en-during primordial features of Rwandan social structures.

The most important recent discussion of this topic is found in Marcel d’Hertefelt’s Les clans du Rwanda ancien. While providing valuable statistical data on clan membership in Rwanda, this work also summarizes material on contemporary clan concepts in Rwanda and the earlier works of others on this topic. From d’Hertefelt’s analysis it is apparent that most students of Rwandan society view clans within a conceptual model of the lineage—a corporate group with membership ascribed by descent. Because individuals are ascribed their clan identities at birth, clans are also seen as descent groups and clan concepts tend to become simply the extension of the lineage concept. The false under-standing of clan thus derives from a transposition of the conceptual framework from a focus on individual recruitment to lineages (by birth) to an understanding of the clan as a descent group.

D’Hertefelt is quick to dispose of this concept in terms of its present significance. In addition to drawing on empirical studies to make this point, he also notes that the Rwandan term used for clan (ubwoko) is applicable only to the classification of items (a herd of cattle, or a species) but never for a corporate group—a concept expressed by umuryango, the Rwandan term for “lineage” (and other types of groups with internal corporate responsibilities).The model by which clans are portrayed in most writings, then, differs from both the empirical reality and linguistic indications that the clan concept is essentially an identity, not a corporate group. It is the incompatibility of empirical realities with the conceptual framework used in most analyses that gives rise to the problems of clan analysis.

These problems are not seen as problems of conceptualization, however, because it is assumed that the descent model of clans is shared by both Rwandans and Western anthropologists. And so it is; at the level of the conception of clan structures, the lineage analogy is used by Rwandans as well as outsiders.But the normative ideal differs from the behavioral norm, and it is the former that is applied to the historical characterization of clans. Thus, while d’Hertefelt skillfully demonstrates the fallacy in viewing present clans as exogamous descent groups, he appears to accept the opinion of others that clans were formerly exogamous.He thus curiously reaffirms for an earlier period (“une époque plus ou moins lointaine”) the conception of clan that he rejects in contemporary terms; such an analysis implies that the present is merely a deviation from a past that functioned according to the very model he so effectively brings into question.

One way to avoid the tautological reasoning implicit in working through the same conceptual models we are trying to explain is to draw on data from historically related areas outside the immediate field of study and to compare these with the internal model.1s In Rwanda this is particularly important because ofthe strength of the central court paradigms and the enormous influence that central court traditions have exerted on our past understanding of Rwanda. Furthermore, historically significant geographical units may differ from those defined by present political boundaries; therefore, to limit our analytic perspectives to present-day geographic Rwanda is to limit ourselves to an artificial social unit in terms of the historical problem addressed. In other words, a historical analysis of Rwandan social categories need not be confined to a Rwandan context alone, but may best be extended to other areas with close historical ties to Rwanda.

One ofthose areas is Ijwi Island, located in Lake Kivu, to the west of Rwanda. Although the clan system of Ijwi is different from that of Rwanda today, many of the people of Ijwi have experienced close ties in the past with areas east of the lake. Of the dozen or so clans now recognized on Ijwi (the number varies according to the definition of “clan” one chooses to employ, and therefore with context), several claim an origin east of the lake; today these areas are included as part of Rwanda, but at the time these people migrated to Ijwi in the late eighteenth century the areas immediately east of the lake were not yet fully incorporated into Rwanda.

In what follows, I will consider two of these clans on Ijwi, the Mbiriri and the Ishaza. Members of both these clans claim to have come from east of the lake, from areas now part of Rwanda but formerly autonomous from central court control. Their immigration to Ijwi took place before the present (Havu) dynasty arrived on the island from the south. Since then, despite continued ties across the lake and despite twenty years of Rwandan occupation of Ijwi at the end of the nineteenth century, these clans have remained largely autonomous of direct Rwandan political penetration.18

Members of the Mbiriri clan of Ijwi claim origin from an area called Bun-yambiriri in Rwanda. They arrived in very small numbers, and all claim association with Singa clan status in Rwanda today. Indeed, Bunyambiriri is today an area of predominantly Singa clan affiliation.Why then do the Mbiriri on Ijwi not call themselves “Singa”? While it is common practice for people to be identified by their place of origin—though that is often selected from several options —it is not clear why this form of social identification should be favored over clan names from the area of origin, particularly in the early stages of Ijwi history and particularly when dealing with such small groups of immigrants who most likely shared a common clan identity. Nor is there any indication that these Ijwi clannames have since been altered: from the Ijwi data it is clear that these people arrived on Ijwi as “Banyambiriri,” not as “Basinga.” What is more, despite the importance of Rwandan immigration to Ijwi, no group on Ijwi—nor anywhere else west of Lake Kivu—retains a clan identity presently found among the eighteen largest clans of Rwanda (though many can cite these names, and even identify a “sister clan”).

What emerges from these considerations is that present Rwandan clan identities were not important to these people on Ijwi two hundred years ago. It is therefore likely that the Mbiriri arrived on Ijwi before (or roughly contemporaneously with) the extension of current Rwandan clan appellations into areas such as Bunyambiriri. Consequently, current discrepancies between Ijwi and Rwanda can be explained by subsequent transformations on the mainland, changes that progressively increased the cultural differences between Ijwi and the areas east of the lake from the time of their first establishment on the island.

The areas just east of Lake Kivu are also prominent in Rwandan historical traditions. It is said that Gihanga, the first Nyiginya king of Rwanda, received the royal drums from a man named Jeni, whom the Rwandan traditions associate with Singa clan status.But on Ijwi another clan, the Ishaza (Beshaza), claims a strong identity as composed of the common putative descendants from a man named Jeni, himself of royal status. Because in Rwanda Jeni is assumed to be a Singa, and the Ishaza on Ijwi are said to descend from Jeni, the implication is that the Ishaza on Ijwi are therefore to be associated with the Singa clan in Rwanda.

Although not presently recognized as an autonomous clan within Rwanda, the Ishaza on Ijwi claim the area of Bwishaza as their homeland. Located in the Kibuye Prefecture of Rwanda, Bwishaza is an area of strong Singa presence: among Hutu the Singa constitute over 21 percent of the population in Kibuye Prefecture, by far the largest component of the population there, surpassed only by the figure of Kinyaga, just to the southwest of Kibuye.Taken together, these clan figures confirm the inference noted above that the Ishaza on Ijwi are to be identified with the Singa in Rwanda, through their common claims to association with the person of Jeni. Therefore, the Mbiriri would seem to be associated with the Ishaza on Ijwi through the Mbiriri claims to Singa affiliation and the Rwandan traditions that claim Singa status for Jeni (an ancestor of the Ishaza).

But juxtaposing data from Rwanda and from Ijwi in this fashion produces a paradox: the Ishaza on Ijwi explicitly and universally deny Singa status, and people from all clans on Ijwi distinguish sharply between Mbiriri and Ishaza.Furthermore, the Ishaza have a joking relationship with the Mbiriri that differentiates them and maintains the differences between them. Moreover, on Ijwi Jeni does not appear in the historical affiliations of the Mbiriri.

The most plausible argument to explain this series of traditions is that Jeni, the putative ancestor of the Ishaza, was a member of a localized group that only later became absorbed within the more all-inclusive Singa identity to conform to Rwandan categories of social identity. This absorption apparently occurred after the Ishaza and Mbiriri emigrations from Rwanda in the late eighteenth century, and thus corresponds with the period when Rwandan cultural norms spread through the area: it is primarily in the Rwandan traditions associated with the central court milieu that the descendants of Jeni are considered Singa.

The apparent contradictions in these data then raise the questions of why, despite these apparent indications of common origins, the Mbiriri and Ishaza on Ijwi claim different status from each other and why neither calls itself Singa. This discrepancy between the Ijwi data, which are clear and consistent, and the Rwandan claims can be explained by looking at the assertions of Rwandan associations as separate elements within an evolving process of clan identity formation. While the Mbiriri on Ijwi identify specifically as Singa in Rwanda, the Ishaza deny they are Singa; but they, in turn, admit to being descendants of Jeni, a figure apparently since absorbed into the Singa clan category in Rwandan conceptions. From a historical perspective, therefore, the present differences between the Mbiriri and Ishaza traditions on Ijwi attest to localized identities of an ear-lier period in the area directly east of Lake Kivu—what is today western Rwanda. Consequently, in figure 8.1 the vertical ties represent the primary linkages in historical terms, while the tie between Jeni and the Singa in Rwanda (a tie-in paralleling but contradicting the Ishaza-Mbiriri interrelation on Ijwi) can be seen as a later phenomenon. Thus the separate identities of these two clans on Ijwi apparently preserve the earlier differentiation of the two groups east of the lake, while the Rwandan situation represents their more recent amalgamation as Singa.

In this case, the effect of the joking relationship between the Mbiriri and Ishaza on Ijwi has been to resist any accommodation of the two groups on Ijwi such as that which occurred in Rwanda and by which Jeni’s group has been associated with the Singa. By identifying the Mbiriri as different from the Ishaza, this relationship between the two clans on Ijwi serves to maintain social distinctions that may well have existed east of the lake in the late nineteenth century and before. It is also significant that in Rwanda the link noted between Jeni and Singa derives from a source external to the clans in question: it appears only in the Nyiginya traditions of the royal court. It is therefore not internal data, deriving from the participants directly involved, but a statement of royal perceptions.

We are dependent exclusively on the Nyiginya court interpretations for these social classifications and these interpretations most likely refer to a time only after court influence had penetrated the area and after the diffusion of the central court classifications into western Rwanda.

Though no evidence on this point is presently available from Bwishaza itself, data from neighboring Kinyaga provide some confirmation that the diffusion of the Singa identity within this area is a more recent phenomenon—that the area was earlier characterized by smaller localized group identities. Located in the extreme southwest of present Rwanda, Kinyaga is an area where Rwandan central court political norms and perceptions penetrated only relatively recently; before the mid- or late nineteenth century, Rwandan penetration affected only a tiny proportion of the population, mostly immigrants who had come from outside Kinyaga during the previous two generations. Perhaps as a consequence of this recent political penetration and the social transformations that went with it, the pattern of social identities in Kinyaga today differs from that in other areas of Rwanda. Whereas in central Rwanda there are essentially two levels of classificatory identities (ubwoko and umuryango, or “clan” and “lineage”), for certain groups in Kinyaga there are three such levels. It is interesting that both Mbiriri and Ishaza identities are represented as intermediary identities in Kinyaga and both are considered to be sub-groups of the Singa clan. This too reflects the con-junction of these two identities within a larger Singa classificatory identity re-marked on above.

Taken alone, the Kinyaga data simply show an association of these two groups with Singa identity. It remains possible that the Ishaza and Mbiriri identities are subcategories formed by the segmentation of an earlier clan identity into sub-groups, rather than formerly autonomous identities now combined within a Singa “supra-clan” concept. But it seems more likely that such intermediate identities in Kinyaga resulted from the diffusion of the larger Singa classificatory identity and the subsequent incorporation of localized identities within this larger category. For in most other areas, especially those long a part of the Rwandan culture zone, clans have not segmented into subgroups in this fashion, and on Ijwi a common Singa identity is emphatically denied—rather than sublimated—even though there is no stigma attached to such identity. Therefore, rather than breaking down clan groups, centralized state penetration in the Rwandan case appears to have encouraged, maintained, and perhaps extended broader identities. Such a process would help explain the presence of both Tutsi and Hutu within a single clan (although other factors probably also played a part in this phenomenon).Likewise, it would explain the separate identities on Ijwi of two clans joined in the Rwandan context, since what appears as an anomaly in the Rwandan data may well relate to a period prior to the Singa expansion (or consolidation) into the far reaches of the west. Indeed, there may still be areas in the west of Rwanda (such as the lacustrine peninsulas) where Rwandan norms have not fully penetrated and where people still identify as Ishaza or as members of other small clans.

The distribution of clan identities in Rwanda lends some support to this view. If Rwandan state norms helped consolidate clan identities, it would be expected that a higher proportion of members of the eighteen principal Rwandan classificatory units would be found in those areas of longest and most intensive assimilation to Rwandan cultural norms. According to d’Hertefelt’s figures, this is precisely the case.Despite the difficulties of defining and identifying appropriate clan units,d’Hertefelt’s data classify the population by prefecture in terms of these eighteen principal units, with a residual category to include minute representations of various other identities claimed.Since the total number of individuals associated with “other” clans in the sample surpasses forty-three hundred, and since the number of any given segment includes less than one hundred individuals (otherwise we assume it would have been included in the tabulation under its own separate clan heading), we can estimate that there are well over fifty such groups (since some will probably be very small indeed). By the same reasoning, we can estimate that there are at least ten such different groups for Kibuye Prefecture alone.

The distribution of individuals excluded from the eighteen named clans on d’Hertefelt’s list conforms exactly to the hypothesis discussed above: in the areas of most recent and least intensive Rwandan central court penetration, these very small clans claim a much higher proportion of the population than is true for the areas of the country with the greatest assimilation to court norms. In percentage terms, clan membership in this category (outside the principal eighteen named clans) for the four western and northwesternmost prefectures averages more than thirteen times as much as for the four central and east-central pre-fectures where Rwandan cultural norms were most in evidence. Consequently, there is clearly a process at work by which the population in such areas of strong central court influence is progressively consolidated into these eighteen basic social categories. Rather than resulting from the fragmentation of large clan units, therefore, these smaller units seem to be precursors to such formations. At the very least, it can be concluded that the presence of Rwandan state forms inhibited the fragmentation process that occurred in areas outside strong state influence. Nor do the largest clans concentrate in those areas of greatest representation of smaller groups (“others”), a correlation that might confirm the fragmentation hypothesis. Three of the oldest clans of Rwanda (to judge from their ritual status as “owners of the soil”) are included among the four largest clans. But only one is concentrated in the west and north (the areas of greatest number of small units); another is concentrated in the more assimilated areas, and the third is more evenly spread throughout the country.

The argument advanced here, therefore, suggests that in relatively recent times the Singa clan category has absorbed certain groups that were previously autonomous. This process of amalgamating localized identities within the wider “supra-clan” identities, those associated with the Rwandan political context, may have been relatively common in the area.

One such instance from Rwanda is the elusive identity of the Renge, a group that is mentioned in the Rwandan traditions as a former dynastic group associated with the Singa clan, or as simply an early population of Rwanda. This is sometimes seen as a contradiction: that the Renge identity signifies either a sub-group of a larger unit or a general name for an earlier population. Either one or the other—but not both—must be true, according to this logic.

But in historical perspective, both identities may have existed at different times. It is quite possible that“Renge” was a general term applied to formerly autonomous populations that were later incorporated within a system of state (in this case Rwandan central court) identities. This is exactly the way in which the term (in a slightly different form—“Binyalenge,” not “Barenge”) is used on Ijwi; moreover, in areas both northeast and southwest of Lake Kivu the Renge are seen as an autonomous clan, sometimes as the clan associated with royal status.This suggests that the Renge identity in western Rwanda has become submerged within the Singa supra-clan identity with earlier Renge autonomy represented only by their claim to former royal status.

The approach suggested here also relates to the discussion on the ethnic origin of the Renge. The most complete text available on the subject notes that the Renge were neither Tutsi nor Hutu. Such an apparent contradiction can be explained if it is assumed that the Renge were at one time autonomous from the Singa (and from all clan identities associated with the Rwandan royal court paradigms). Thus they were outside the Hutu-Tutsi dichotomy associated with these clan identities; the fact that they were not Singa (or some other Rwandan clan identity) meant in itself that they were neither Tutsi nor Hutu, but simply Renge.

The perspective suggested above helps explain one other apparent paradox. Alexis Kagame asserts that all Rwandan clans are Tutsi in origin, a claim discussed at length by d’Hertefelt.Within the conceptual framework proposed here, however, Kagame’s claim assumes a new significance. Some Rwandan clan identities have expanded with the extension of Rwandan culture norms associated with the royal court. If this is true of all the -ooko identity classifications, then they can be said to form a conceptual framework associated with Tutsi (read “dynastic”) paradigms in Rwanda. Therefore, the present clan structures can be said to emanate from this Tutsi context, even though such a Tutsi origin would obviously not apply to the individual members within the clans, as d’Hertefelt has demonstrated. It is in this sense (that of“individual” origins) that d’Hertefelt interprets Kagame’s statement. But in quite another sense, by focusing on perceptions and identities associated with the royal court (Kagame’s “clan purement politique”), the statement can be seen to carry considerable weight, at least for western Rwanda.

This perspective would also lend some support to the authors who seek to explain the multiclass character of Rwandan clans by recourse to the extension of Tutsi (or at least hierarchical) norms, in this case associated with various types of land and cattle clientship.If the present clan structures are a result of the extension of central court influence (and power), indeed, if the extension (or reinforcement) of ethnic identities has occurred in part from the extension of central court power, then the multiethnic character of clans is also a product of this new context. There remains, however, a significant difference: the hypothesis proposed here does not depend on ubuhake client ties, nor directly on client ties between Tutsi and Hutu—a constant preoccupation of the earlier writers.Instead, it is seen as linking a political context identified with Rwanda’s central court to people formerly outside the system. Rather than concentrating on individual mechanisms (which link a Hutu client to a Tutsi patron, or which link children from a Hutu-Tutsi union to the clan of one parent and the ethnic group of the other), we need to explore the structural changes and changes in conceptualizations at the levels of social classifications.

This difference in the personal element is crucial to the perspective proposed here. From the point of view of the individual involved, there is little difference between this perspective and the mechanisms so clearly delimited by d’Hertefelt, for it was, after all, individuals who adopted new identities. But looked at from the point of view of clan structures, the two perspectives have significant differences. Former identities became submerged—but not abandoned—in the new Rwandan identity paradigms explored above. These classifications became predominant not by the movement and spread of individuals but by alterations in the essential conception of clan structures. It was not always necessary that such transformations result from contact with individual clan members; they could result instead from contact with a new political or social context. It is this larger context—with its various levels of historical change—that needs to be explored in our efforts to gain that fuller understanding of social change implicit in the concept of “histoire globale.”

In short, a different set of social identities existed in the western areas of what is now Rwanda before the extension of royal power into these regions. Therefore, the current eighteen “official” clans are not primordial to Rwandan society (at least not as they exist today). Instead, their current composition and diffusion result from the expanding reach of the Nyiginya court: Rwandan identity meant belonging to one of these “official” clans. The current clan configuration in this area, in short, has a history. Furthermore, because it is tied to royal expansion, the present set of clan structures can be dated to the mid- or late eighteenth century. And that, in turn, can be used to date the movement of certain groups into neighboring areas, outside the reach of Rwandan court power—areas where clan identities do not replicate Rwandan appellations.

Post Views: 7
https://uk.amateka.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Bushi.pnghttps://uk.amateka.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Bushi-150x150.pngBarataSocial & cultureColonial historiography assumed that African societies were static, permanent, and primordial. The presence of “clans” in African societies was taken to prove to the case, for clans were seen as atavistic features that represented the legacy of a political order that preceded kingship. But in Rwanda there was a...AMATEKA