A History of Sub-Saharan Africa (review)

Africanists have long discussed the legitimacy of dividing Africa into halves—Africa north of the Sahara and south of the Sahara—for convenience in publishing and teaching. Critics of division have asked, “Do you know of a college course entitled ‘Europe south of the Alps?’ Why should Africa be divided up when its cultural and commercial connections across the Sahara are similar to Europe’s Alpine interaction?” When Eurocentrists claimed Egypt for their non-African agendas, for example, some critics argued that it could no more be separated from Africa than New England could be from the U.S. By choosing or agreeing to the title of this book, A History of Sub-Saharan Africa, the late Robert Collins and James Burns have wittingly or unwittingly entered the fray.

Many readers will wish that the authors had engaged this historiography more fully in their introduction. Collins and Burns “affirm that [sub-Saharan Africa] has a history peculiar to itself” and has its own “internal integrity” (3). Yet readers seeking a cartographic description of sub-Saharan Africa’s “internal integrity” may wonder why there is no map of “Sub-Saharan Africa,” and why the first chapter is dedicated not to sub-Saharan Africa, but to the whole continent. The second chapter is also not on sub-Saharan Africa; instead it is devoted to a discussion of Egypt’s African character, including a helpful insert referring to Cheikh Anta Diop and Martin Bernal. Later discussions of Aksum, Ghana, Mali, and Songhai consider their North African linkages. In contrast to the book’s title, the authors adopt the continental term “Africa” throughout their book: although the title divides, therefore, the content often unites.

The book consists of twenty-six engaging chapters in four sections: “Foundations,” “Africa in World History,” “Imperial Africa,” and “Independent Africa.” Derived in part from class lectures, the book effectively introduces students to many major issues and primary sources which should interest undergraduates. Especially useful are the sections on colonialism and resistance, although Toyin Falola’s edited volume, Dark Webs: Perspectives on Colonialism in Africa (Carolina Academic Press, 2005), should have been included in the bibliography. The chapters on South Africa and the Cold War are particularly comprehensive and well written.

Several minor annoyances include uneven chapter bibliographies; one chapter has no entries at all. The inclusion of Mary Lefkowitz’s (1996) critical work on Martin Bernal’s Black Athena (Rutgers University Press, 1987) is not accompanied by a citation of Bernal’s response, Black Athena Writes Back (Duke University Press, 2001). Philip Curtin’s classic work, The Atlantic Slave Trade (University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), is not cited in the bibliography on that topic. There is no mention of either the eight volumes of The Cambridge History of Africa (Cambridge University Press, 1975–85) or the eight volumes of the UNESCO General History of Africa (University of California Press, 1981–93). The omission of the latter work is especially unfortunate, as it was created with much fanfare primarily for teachers and students in Africa. The well-known observation that in terms of human origins “We are all Africans” is not discussed. Neither are the debates about reparations for the Atlantic and Indian Ocean slave trades, colonialism, and imperialism.

To be sure, the authors cannot cover every topic in a survey text. In addition, like Collins’s approach throughout his long and prolific career—whether in his scholarly works, his general surveys, or his documentary collections—this volume enthusiastically attempts to plant seeds of interest in students to be nourished over time. College courses with the same title will benefit from this book, especially since it does situate the region in the continent in such important, unifying ways. Africanists reluctant to separate North Africa from sub-Saharan Africa will enjoy the book’s fluid prose and recognize its subtle unity.