The Gun in Central Africa. Giacomo Macola

       Acknowledgments

      Considering the increasingly marginal status of precolonial African historiography in the United Kingdom and elsewhere, the curiosity sparked by this book came as a pleasant surprise. I am indebted to the following Africanists for taking the trouble to comment on sections of the manuscript: David Birmingham, Paul la Hausse de Lalouvière, John Iliffe, Dirk Jaeger, Bill Nasson, Andrew Roberts, Ken Vickery, and, especially, Jean-Luc Vellut. Not only did I learn a great deal from Jean-Luc’s own work on the subject of firearms in central Africa, but he was also generous enough to put me in touch with Paul Dubrunfaut, the supremely knowledgeable keeper of firearms at the Musée Royal de l’Armée, Brussels. Needless to say, none of these scholars ought to be held responsible for any errors and/or misconceptions that remain in the book despite their much appreciated cooperation.

      Other colleagues contributed in less direct but still invaluable ways. Bill Storey kindly participated in a conference I co-organized in Canterbury in May 2011. Although our approaches to the history of firearms in Africa are far from identical, I readily admit to having been initially much influenced by his Guns, Race and Power in Colonial South Africa. Achim von Oppen, the author of an important and original study of the upper Zambezi and Kasai region, Terms of Trade and Terms of Trust, graciously allowed me to use one of his splendid photographs for the cover of this book. Ray Abrahams, Jeff Hoover, Martin Walsh, Judith Weik, and Samba Yonga helped me with their linguistic expertise. Hugh Macmillan, John McCracken, and Kings Phiri pointed me in the direction of fundamental sources in Scotland, where I also benefited from the hospitality of, and discussions with, Tom Molony. In Lubumbashi, Donatien Dibwe dia Mwembu and Léon Verbeek showed a keen interest in my project and, alongside Pierre Kalenga and Liévain Mwangal, went out of their way to facilitate it. Doing research in my adoptive country, Zambia, is a rather easier proposition than in the Congo. Not its least attractive feature is the extensive support network on which I am able to rely. Marja Hinfelaar, Bizeck J. Phiri, and Mauro Sanna have always been the most dependable of friends. Institutionally, both the National Archives of Zambia and the Livingstone Museum have invariably done their best to accommodate all of my research requirements. In Livingstone, special thanks must go to the then keeper of history, Friday Mufuzi, who, alongside Flexon Mizinga, the secretary of the Zambian National Museums Board, granted me permission to view and photograph some of the firearms held at the Livingstone Museum.

      Few of my close personal friends are to be found within the (occasionally suffocating) walls of the academy. But, precisely because they are few, my academic comrades are all the more precious to me. My greatest debt goes to Harri Englund, upon whose friendship and unselfish readiness to offer advice I have always been able to count. Despite his busy schedule, Harri has always found time to comment on the various chunks of the manuscript that I mercilessly inflicted on him. I have, moreover, very fond memories of our short stint of joint fieldwork in Zambia’s Eastern Province (my rabid envy of his proficiency in Chichewa notwithstanding). In Canterbury, Pratik Chakrabarti, Nandini Bhattacharya, Leonie James, Ambrogio Caiani, and Jackie Waller have been rocks of support, spoiling me with their hospitality and generally keeping me on the straight and narrow. Walima Kalusa and Joanna Lewis are both excellent historians and great mates; my knowledge of the central African past has been much enriched by our frequent, rambunctious conversations. Despite having to deal with personal tragedy, Jan-Bart Gewald has remained an exceptionally big-hearted friend over the last ten years or so. Jan-Bart and his late wife, Gertie, also played a critical role in drafting the research proposal that secured the funds without which this book could never have been written. Long may you run, settler boy! Exception made for his interest in ornithology (which, I am convinced, rather cramped our style in southern Congo), Robert Ross was a great traveling companion, whose curiosity and imaginativeness always kept me on my intellectual toes. Robert, too, gave the manuscript a careful reading and made a number of vital suggestions about how best to structure it. Ian Phimister and I have at least one thing in common: the feeling that forbearance might well be an overrated virtue. If this is not the basis of a solid friendship, then I don’t know what is. Ian was also kind enough repeatedly to host me in his Bloemfontein lair, where parts of this book were first presented to wonderfully attentive audiences, and, later, prepared for publication. Other research seminars and conferences where I discussed my initial findings took place