HISTORICAL AND CONTEMPORARY FORMS OF KURIA MUTUAL HELP

Mutual help institutions in Tanzania have been central to large-scale state reforms as well as local grass-roots initiatives, revealing a history of paradoxical transformations but also remarkable continuities. It is interesting to note that some features of customary mutual help and political authority of the Kuria acephalous clans may have indirectly served as a source of inspiration for the wide-ranging social restructuring initiatives of the socialist period. Tanzanian socialism drew upon an idealized vision of African communalism: ‘In Nyerere's theory there would be a socialist nation when the whole nation had been organized on the basis of ujamaa villages where people lived together as was the case in traditional Africa … people would share labor returns equally, would respect each other and would provide security for each other’ (Maghimbi Reference Maghimbi, Forster and Maghimbi1995: 28). Nyerere's ideas of traditional cooperation were inspired by his childhood experiences with traditional mutual help groups in his community of origin in Mara region: ‘Nyerere took the egalitarian and non-authoritarian features of his own ZanakiFootnote ³ society as a model that would motivate his fellow Tanzanians to construct a socialist and democratic society – a society built on the principles of Ujamaa’ (Stroger-Eising Reference Stroger-Eising2000: 138). The neighbourhood cooperative work party or erisaga Footnote ⁴ played an important role in mobilizing mutual help at times of planting, harvesting, house building, and other occasions of labour shortage. Other Zanaki social institutions that may have served as models for socialist nation building included age institutions, elders' councils and other political authority structures of the acephalous ethnic group (see also Stroger-Eising Reference Stroger-Eising2000; Bischofberger Reference Bischofberger1972).

The ujamaa concept envisioned establishing voluntary collective village enterprise with joint distribution of the proceeds and a village fund for savings and investments (Abrahams Reference Abrahams1985: 9). However, only a fraction of the country's population had joined collectivized cultivation by 1973, and forceful resettlement operations were launched in many areas. In the course of ‘Operation Mara’ of 1973, about 80 per cent of Kuria settlements were affected (Matango Reference Matango1976), resulting in concentrated village settlements that held a mixture of different clans and even ethnic groups. These were environments of profound instability; in many cases, women's workloads had doubled and they had lost their customary landholding rights. Novel types of women's associations emerged all around the country, fostering social alliances of women in the new villages. The structural adjustment reforms of the 1980s and growing economic instabilities further undermined employment in the formal sector in Tanzania, setting off ‘a long-term process of deagrarianization that involves occupational adjustment, income-earning reorientation, social re-identification and spatial relocation of rural dwellers away from agricultural-based modes of livelihood’ (Bryceson Reference Bryceson and Bryceson2010a: 9). Many local communities underwent a drastic growth in diverse mutual aid societies (Mbilinyi Reference Mbilinyi1999; Koda Reference Koda, Ngware, Odgaard and Shayo1996; Tripp Reference Tripp1997).Footnote ⁵

Mutual help groups had also become widespread among the Kuria of Mara region by the time of my field research. An overview of certain features of Kuria social organization and political authority is helpful to understand the evolution of Kuria mutual help arrangements. Kuria semi-pastoralists reside on the shores of Lake Victoria, on both sides of the Tanzania–Kenya border. The main unit of political organization of the ‘tribe’, the clan (ikiaro), was associated with hypothesized common descent (symbolized by a totemic animal) and constituted a focal point in military defence. The clanFootnote ⁶ consisted of a variety of concentrated hilltop settlements (irigori) (Ruel Reference Ruel1959; Cory Reference Cory1947), the inhabitants of which cooperated in various subsistence activities. Segmentary Kuria clans had no formal institutions for maintaining political order; this was mainly shaped through public discussions (Ruel Reference Ruel1959; Reference Ruel1962). Cross-cutting solidarities were created by age-related affiliations such as age grades, generation classes and circumcision sets,Footnote ⁷ which added to the variety of interactional contexts in Kuria society that were used for mutual help mobilization: ‘The age grade organization, which … cuts across kinship lines, provides a second framework for the organization of agricultural work, particularly through work teams’ (Rwezaura Reference Rwezaura1985: 18). Customarily, the age-grade system gave rise to the organization of youth work groups, which often began as early as around ten years of age. Cory describes the operation of the esaiga Footnote ⁸ as follows:

Work groups were instrumental in socializing the youth and educating them in the Kuria values of communal work.

Customary forms of mutual help mobilization have been divided into two categories: ‘occasional’ gatherings convened to tackle a larger task, and reciprocating work groups of various types (Ruel Reference Ruel1959; Matango Reference Matango1976). Recent socio-political and environmental changes have affected the collectivities used for drawing mutual help. Due to growing population densities as well as administrative reforms, traditional Kuria hilltop settlements have been replaced with evenly spread homestead units, reducing the importance of age-grade and descent group solidarities. Chronic water scarcity is affecting the downstream areas of Mara River, undermining food security and causing conflicts over water access. Cattle raiding has been transformed from a community-oriented institution into a commercial activity with international crime connections (Fleisher Reference Fleisher2000). The cross-cutting ties of age organization still continue to affect collective action. Groups of youth formed on the basis of circumcision sets take part in cattle rustling, and age-grade affiliations play a role in increasing community policing activities. Present-day mutual help groups are mobilized with greater regularity than those of the past, and have a consistent membership, a pronounced organizational structure, and an emphasis on orderly reciprocal exchanges. Whereas the groups of the past were mostly used for farm work, contemporary Kuria mutual help groups are also engaged in non-agricultural ventures such as brick making, carpentry, local handicrafts and tailoring, street retail and market trade. Group members may operate a joint business or group farm; many have joint credit arrangements or a group fund. The groups may also ‘sell’ group work days to outsiders for monetary payment.

The three main contemporary Kuria work group types are isiri, iriika and ikomiti. Isiri tradition goes far back in history. These are work groups for uncircumcised youth, socializing the young with values of peaceful cooperation. It is also a setting to look for potential marriage partners. Mwita, a young man from Tarime highlands, explains: ‘Isiri is a place to get good wives, to see the nature of the girl – is she hard-working and respectful? Isiri members can also advise these girls to outsiders for marriage.’ He points out that it is not easy to start an isiri as it may be difficult to find an equal number of girls to join the group.

Group members work in rotation in each other's fields and recently many groups have adopted non-agricultural side activities and a rotating credit arrangement. They also organize public dance parties (litungu Footnote ⁹) for their village, playing musical instruments and performing traditional dramas. The work day starts with blowing the horn (kirondo) on a nearby hilltop or anthill in the early morning. After the morning meeting and a few hours of work, the group has liquid finger millet porridge (busara). An isiri in Tarime highlands has ten members, four women and six men, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. From Monday to Friday, 6.45 to 10.30 a.m., the group works in rotation on the members' fields. There is no payment for the work, only porridge provided by the host member. If no work is needed in his or her household, a member can ‘sell’ her turn to work for cash. The group also works for outsiders on tasks such as weeding or cutting grass for roof thatching. The group members value the cooperative aspects of their activities, claiming that ‘the meaning of isiri is to do things together, to be a strong man’.

Isiri are known for elaborate by-laws and sanctions. The most severely punished offences invariably relate to fighting, quarrelling and carrying weapons. Another category of serious offences relates to ‘taking out group secrets'. That feature may be a reference to another important customary entity – the secret clan council (inchama) – where telling outsiders about the group activities could be detrimental to the clan's well-being. Isiri have a complex organizational structure, combining elements borrowed from clan institutions as well as socialist administrative structures. The positions of the group chairman, secretary, executive leader and treasurer refer to various organizational structures of the socialist era. The messengers or announcers, who are intermediaries, reflect the functions of the traditional ‘clan speaker’ (omogambi) who mediated between the secret clan council and the wider community. The senior councillor has an advisory and ritualistic role – much like the members of the secret elders' council of Kuria clans, ‘quiet people’ (abakiri). That mixing of different structural templates leads to tensions between the consensus-oriented authority patterns borrowed from Kuria clan units and the more recent central authority-oriented elements.

Another work group, iriika, is the most widespread formation and combines flexibility with the potential for amazing complexity. Traditionally convened for seasonal agricultural activities, it now often involves various non-agricultural projects and diverse savings arrangements. A typical iriika is a relatively small group of like-minded peers of similar age and the same gender, often members of the neighbourhood age set. The focus is less on by-laws than on friendship and common values: ‘Iriika doesn't have laws. It has just people who have united to help each other.’ The groups are generally regulated by mutuality: ‘If you don't come to work for me, I won't go to work for you.’ Despite that emphasis on reciprocity when rationalizing one's group participation, a tendency towards formalization could be noted in many iriika. Many groups have adopted by-laws, have instituted hierarchical offices and operate with consistent memberships.

An all-women iriika is a relatively recent phenomenon in Kuria society – it was not customary for women from different kin groups and neighbourhoods to work together in regular reciprocating work arrangements.Footnote ¹⁰ With increasing mobility and the spreading money economy, diverse settings have emerged for women to find like-minded individuals for cooperation. The groups assist women with farm work as well as provide access to cash income, allowing them more independence, particularly in polygynous households. Working in iriika enables women to cultivate ‘men's crops' with more ease and obtain information about new varieties and cultivation techniques.

Iriika are similarly popular among young men, particularly with the dwindling numbers of cattle for bridewealth and field cultivation. The five men who are members of an iriika in Tarime highlands are between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-one. The group was started in 1997 when some friends and neighbours from two adjacent villages came together: ‘Nowadays there is a lack of cows and oxen, how can we get the work done? We need to start an iriika.’Footnote ¹¹ They began with ten members and five permanent members have remained; five others join in during the rainy season. The group has refused three people who were seen as quarrelsome: ‘A good member is the one who likes development.’ In the rainy season, the men rotate in each other's fields from Monday to Friday, cultivating finger millet, sweet potatoes, cassava, bananas and coffee. They have a small communal farm of banana trees. The weekly banana harvest is taken to the market on bicycles, with the income divided between the members. The group has a group fund, a treasurer and written by-laws. Fines include the following: coming late – 50 Tanzania shillings (Tsh); quarrelling or fighting – Tsh3,000 or expulsion from the group; not turning up at work – Tsh1,000. Money from the fines is distributed between the group members.

The numbers of iriika and other mutual help groups have increased in their community: ‘It is profitable to do work together. In the old times, there were fewer groups. People have increased in numbers; make more iriika. They know how to do it from their ancestors. Those who work alone – they have bad habits and are not well accepted in the community.’ According to the group members, the benefits of working in a group are twofold – the members help each other, but they also get money when they ‘share work’. The element of money profits is thereby carefully framed in the socially acceptable themes of ‘helping each other’ and ‘sharing work’. Once a member has become wealthier through group work, he or she may choose to leave the group and take up an individual business: ‘Some people do iriika, produce more crops, buy a cow and some oxen. Then they leave. Sometimes they get more money, buy a business in town. Then they can use their income to hire an iriika or organize ikiginga [festive work party].’ The group activities may therefore constitute an ‘intermediary’ step towards individual accumulation. The popularity of iriika coincides with a decline in festive neighbourhood work parties that customarily had been mobilized in labour-intensive periods and included kinsfolk, neighbours and friends. Since the beginning of the 1990s, work parties such as ikiginga have almost disappeared. According to local reports, iriika and isiri groups have taken their place: people either participate in them or ‘hire’ them to work in their fields. Villagers point out that reciprocity in festive work parties is not granted and providing food and drinks is increasingly expensive.Footnote ¹² The decline of festive work parties may also reflect how the local support networks have changed from extended household mobilized arrangements to smaller and peer-centred ones.

Comparable developments can also be observed in customary networks of ceremonial support and other similar periodic contribution chains. With the spreading money economy, a novel type of savings and credit arrangement – ikomiti – appeared in Kuria communities in the 1980s and 1990s. The primary function of ikomiti is as a rotating contribution chain, although the group may also engage in agricultural activities.Footnote ¹³Ikomiti may be as large as eighty people and have written by-laws and a strict monitoring of contributions and defaults. Because of their formalized features and greater regularity, ikomiti differ from their ‘predecessors’ that were based on loose networks of mutual support and were mobilized irregularly for emergencies or celebrations. One of these was bunge (translated also as ‘parliament’ in Kiswahili). Gradually, bunge parties became increasingly expensive as they were accompanied by lavish feasts. Chacha Marwa, a local ward secretary, explained:

Bunge parties still have some relevance, especially for causes that require large sums of money, but their role has changed. Bunge have historically functioned as links uniting people of different kin units and neighbourhoods into wider networks of mutual help. Nowadays, bunge may unite several contribution groups such as ikomiti that attend bunge parties and contribute to a common cause.

Kuria mutual help groups had become effective economic mediators with the emerging money economy because of their reliance on cultural patterns of reciprocity and mutuality. The centrality of contemporary work groups in combining local patterns of labour management with those of financial management has also been observed in other African societies.Footnote ¹⁵ The functioning of the rotating savings association may thus be based on money, but its operational principle is often rooted in customary labour reciprocities and other mutual security arrangements.

Kuria contribution groups provide women with new kinds of access to money and savings that enable them to develop individual business activities and gain more freedom from exploitative extended family demands. But the groups do not always result in the empowerment of the marginal. In some cases, the group can lead to uneven wealth accumulation for its leader – that is particularly the case with groups whose sole focus is on ‘newer’ economic activities such as a joint drinks business, a retail store, or vegetable or poultry farming. Men's access to work and cash contribution groups means, in some cases, more spending on bridewealth cattle and obtaining new wives, further complicating the resource balance in polygynous families. For men, belonging to mutual help groups is often seen as a means to extend their political influence whereas women are more frequently motivated by economic needs.

The mixing of diverse resources and normative elements in the work groups suggests that contemporary forms of mutual help in Africa are more complex than was assumed until only recently. Earlier assumptions about the developmental trajectory of mutual help had taken inspiration from modernization theory, presenting informal credit associations as transitional forms leading towards a more commercialized economy: as a ‘middle rung in development’ between the formal and informal sectors that is ultimately ‘self-liquidating, being replaced … by banks, cooperatives, and economically more rational types of credit institutions' (Geertz Reference Geertz1962: 263). Rapid Western-style commercialization was also assumed to affect other resources pooled through mutual help networks, replacing ‘older’ reciprocal forms of farm labour with wage labour (Erasmus Reference Erasmus1956; Uchendu Reference Uchendu1970). Recent evidence indicates, however, that contemporary work groups are proliferating more widely than ever, combining contractual as well as multi-stranded elements and diverse resources that include money and labour (Ardener Reference Ardener, Ardener and Burman1995; Geschiere Reference Geschiere1995; Worby Reference Worby1995; Englund Reference Englund1999; McAllister Reference McAllister1999). In a number of African communities, cooperative labour has emerged with recent cash crop cultivation or intensified migration.Footnote ¹⁶ The multipurpose character of the groups is central to their viability: mutual help associations facilitate political alliances, provide psychological support, and offer access to new information and collaboration partners. It is therefore important to situate the groups within the transformations of culturally relevant patterns of relationality.

PASSAGEWAYS OF COOPERATION: THE MORALITIES AND MATERIALITIES OF KURIA MUTUALITY

The Kuria mutual help groups presented hybrid organizational forms where fragmented elements of formalization intermingled with traditional and kin-based templates and idioms. That was reflected in the naming of the novel formations and activities. The term ikomiti, for example, derives from Swahili kamati (itself a derivative of the English word ‘committee’), used to denote a socialist administrative body – village committee (Kamati ya kijiji). The predominantly female members may have drawn upon this term to legitimize their growing autonomy and draw parallels with men's traditional secret council – inchama.Footnote ¹⁷ The act of naming extended legitimacy to new resources and transactions by utilizing patterns from existing institutional repertoires; the groups facilitated novel opportunities for advancement through the old idiom of ‘working together’. Although group activities were rapidly diversifying, they were still defined in terms of ‘sharing’ rather than contracts, payments, debts or loans. Labour and money contributions that group members received were called msaada wa iriika (the help of iriika). The word malipo (payment) was used for remuneration from outsiders but was never employed for labour contributions between the group members. Paid group work for outsiders was called kibarua – a Kiswahili word for casual wage labour. In all other settings, the abstract category of ‘work’ was rarely used by group members. Many work groups described their activities with the word obwumi, meaning ‘unity’ or ‘togetherness’ in Kikuria. Others referred to their joint labour using the term for the group –such as iriika. The vocabularies therefore reflected little conceptual separation between the group as a unit and the act of working together.Footnote ¹⁸ Both the terms iriika (as originally referring to age solidarities) and obwumi (indicating unity or oneness) drew a focus on the egalitarian, peer-oriented aspects of the collective activities.

The concepts used to designate group activities added legitimacy in mediating novel resources, value conversions and categories of participants. Guyer (Reference Guyer2004) has suggested that the act of naming conversionary transactions that facilitate connections between different value registers helps to institutionalize these modes of exchange and enables their routinization in local economies. These processes of ‘conceptual stabilization’ were also relevant in legitimizing the novel features of Kuria mutual help groups. The groups could be seen as innovative devices for transforming ‘ephemeral income into more enduring assets’ (Guyer Reference Guyer2004: 98) as they enabled their members to turn reciprocal work contributions and occasional cash income into more durable sources of wealth through institutionalized group property and loan arrangements.

An interesting feature of the groups was the prevalence of written group documents and by-laws, although most of the groups were not registered formally. Guyer (Reference Guyer2004: 155) has suggested that written documents are important expressions of the fixity of transactional terms, seeking to establish undisputed equivalences between incongruous value scales and modes of measurement. In non-Western contexts, however, where the relational orientation of a transaction is important, the existence of written documents does not necessarily contribute to a systemic dynamic (Guyer Reference Guyer2004). This could also be observed in the Kuria groups – written documents and by-laws carried strong symbolic significance and served to legitimize the groups within the local political hierarchy, but offered little formal recourse for disputes. They remained contested and interpreted contextually. Peer pressure and negotiation were resorted to when group rules were breached, despite the existence of long lists of fines and sanctions. Although many elements of the groups referred to different state and non-state bureaucratic forms, their formalization remained fragmented and partial.

The evolvement of Kuria mutual help associations should be viewed within a wider context of historical practices of constructing political order as well as cultural conceptualizations of relationality. In the non-centralized Kuria polity, public order was constructed through informal discussions and public opinion (Ruel Reference Ruel1959). Political authority resided in the clan speaker (omogambi), the dream prophet (omorooti) and the secret council (inchama). These authority figures were dependent on a wider acceptance of their messages, and their prestige depended on their interaction with others. The segmented organization of Kuria clans and the prevalence of cross-cutting affiliations of age grades, generation classes and circumcision sets fostered communication between people from different localities and age groups. The cosmology of Kuria relational growth focuses on a constant mediated interchange with the outside that is necessary for extending one's influence in society. The central theme of a passageway that mediates the flows between an individual or social group and the wild but abundant outside was reflected in many areas of Kuria rituals and social symbolics (see also Ruel Reference Ruel1997). This passageway – omooyo (translated as ‘throat’ or ‘windpipe’) – functioned as a metaphor for a mediated interaction with the wider social environment in the course of making the Kuria person. The role of mediation was central in the operation of this transactional pathway, originally performed by ritual elders. This article argues that institutional arrangements such as Kuria mutual help groups obtained the ability to channel outside flows by drawing upon culturally accepted principles of relationality. The historically diverse modes of ‘extending’ the Kuria person and creating ties between people from different areas and age groups included cattle transactions as well as mutual help mobilization.

Kuria mutual help institutions have been affected by recent changes in central transactional areas. These include changes in productive relations and resource flows within Kuria marriage and households. Cattle have been central in mediating social bonds and debt relations, and the bridewealth institution (ikihingo) has ensured the continuity of the Kuria homestead. Declining stock numbers have become endemic, partly as a result of the rise of regional cattle markets and commercialized cattle raiding after the influx of firearms from the 1978 Tanzania–Uganda War (Heald Reference Heald2005; Fleisher Reference Fleisher2000).Footnote ¹⁹ Declining cattle numbers were frequently presented as a reason for forming a work group: ‘If you work with iriika, you are the same as the one with an ox plough.’ An informant from a village near the Kenyan border remarked, referring to the rampant cattle raiding: ‘Our village has a lot of work groups as we are close to Kenya and our oxen are frequently stolen – we have to form groups to help each other with farm work.’Footnote ²⁰ Participation in work groups is often rationalized by the need to obtain cattle for bridewealth or other social purposes.

Changes in cattle availability and land use patterns have affected other culturally important forms of savings and cooperation. The growing commercialization of cattle transactions and the rise of individualized cattle wealth have provided women with novel opportunities to cope with increasingly exploitative extended family demands (see also Rodima-Taylor Reference Rodima-Taylor2012). This has motivated women to join mutual help groups such as iriika to gain a private income. The Kuria woman-to-woman marriage (omokamoona) is also on the rise – another arrangement relying on the crucial role of cattle in mediating Kuria kinship bonds (see also Bernhardsdotter Reference Bernhardsdotter2001). Contemporary omokamoona could be seen as another mutual security arrangement that has been redefined by changes in socially relevant modes of saving (including in cattle and in grain).

Cooperative work had been historically important in the self-extension of the Kuria individual. Because of their symbolic ability as mediators, mutual help groups became central in regulating the impacts of money and facilitating diverse conversions (see also Rodima Reference Rodima2007). Many different resources and work tasks were channelled through Kuria mutual aid groups. Cash contributions to the rotating loan fund were not just economic investments – through them, broader expectations of returns were created for various forms of assistance in emergencies and on ceremonial occasions. This extension of debt applied to the group as a whole, which became a ‘debt partner’ to its members. That personification invested it with the power to authorize investments and activities that would have been socially less acceptable in different contexts – including diverse conversions between money and work. Work groups were also able to legitimize transfers of their members from one socio-economic category to another through the idiom of ‘cooperation’, providing women and youth with novel means to refashion their economic standing and social identities. Most of the local businesswomen had belonged to some sort of mutual aid group when they started out, and many continued their group activities in some form (see also Rodima-Taylor Reference Rodima-Taylor2013).

COOPERATION IN COMMUNITY PEACEKEEPING: KURIA MODES OF VIGILANTISM

Alongside economic mutual help institutions, new forms of informal political authority have also emerged in local communities. The most important of these is a regular gathering of local clan representatives – litongo (iritongo). These clan meetings deal with the adjudication of disputes and the policing of local communities, and are particularly active in the areas of cattle theft and stock disputes. In their ideal form, litongo were clan-based, although in practice they seemed to incorporate increasingly diverse memberships and social units. As a local informant put it, ‘Litongo can be different sizes. Litongo of the village, litongo of the division, litongo of all Kuria.’ Most typically, a litongo included people from five to seven villages, most of them respected elders of a particular clan, but it could also be a meeting of clan representatives of just one village. The term was used quite loosely to indicate various different types of assemblies or meetings. The litongo councils oversaw armed guards (walinzi wa jadi or ‘traditional guards’, often just called jadi)Footnote ²¹ who executed their orders and patrolled the area at night to ward off cattle rustlers, periodically uniting with other similar units for larger operations in the neighbourhood.

Although my local informants often referred to the litongo organization as essential to Kuria identity and social order, it was a relatively recent formation in its current form. According to local reports, as well as some ethnographic evidence, litongo with their armed vigilante units did not emerge as important actors in community peacekeeping until the late 1980s. Heald (Reference Heald2005: 272) has associated their rise with the violent cattle raiding and clan warfare of the 1980s and the subsequent successful use of this ‘Kuria assembly’ for the punishment of cattle thieves and for confiscating firearms. The litongo gained further momentum after the 1995 mandate from the regional administration for local communities to codify their laws and punish wrong-doers (Heald Reference Heald2005). At the time of my fieldwork, litongo, with their armed jadi units, had become ubiquitous in Kurialand and were widely used for dealing with instances of theft and violence, but also for mediating between quarrelsome neighbours and collecting fines.Footnote ²² One of the main functions of jadi was to reinforce cattle theft penalties. Litongo and jadi are backed by a powerful and traditional Kuria institution of social control – the secret clan council or inchama. In the past, these had been silent moral guardians of Kuria clans, performing secret rituals and prophesizing future events to ensure communal welfare. Rarely in direct contact with the people, they communicated mainly through clan spokesmen and tribal leaders. Nowadays, the role of inchama in mediating local disputes has become more pronounced. Many of them hold weekly meetings and are involved more intimately in daily matters and community politics. As reports an inchama member: ‘We are also used for “counselling”. Once a week, on Wednesdays, people come with problems and we have to mediate and make people unite. The main problems are cattle rustling, fighting, and refusal to return borrowed things.’ Unlike the formal village authorities, the inchama does not require witnesses – it has other, more effective means of solving disputes. The most important of these is the ritual of Kihore (egehore means ‘skull’ in Kikuria) – a ritual poison trial to proclaim one's innocence. Mwita EliasFootnote ²³ of Tarime highlands described it as follows:

If the individual has committed the crime he or she is denying, it is expected that a collective curse of the ancestors will fall upon him or her. The Kuria institution of formal cursing and poison ordeal can be seen as an embodiment of the central cultural principle of ‘ritual opening’ in which people expose themselves to a risky and unpredictable environment while seeking public approval within changing frameworks of morality and responsibility. In the curiously persistent ritual of Kihore oath swearing, people submit themselves to the ultimate version of the dangerous and unpredictable forces of the outside, the powerful ancestral curse, in order to influence public opinion and clear their name – taking the ultimate challenge for the ultimate reward, as it were. As Pratten (Reference Pratten2008a: 80) has suggested, the persistence of formal oaths and ordeals may signify the relevance of cultural conceptualizations of spiritual protection as well as local spatial and corporeal symbolism in contemporary vigilante practices. Attention to such local constructions of violence and justice may be particularly salient in the current era of deregulation of security and ‘privatization of lawful violence’ (Pratten Reference Pratten, Pratten and Sen2008b: 175). Contemporary vigilantism is affected by broader logics of globalization, but is also shaped by national histories and cultural understandings of sociality and power (Sen and Pratten Reference Sen, Pratten, Pratten and Sen2008). The Kuria institutions of informal authority reveal themselves as important sites of a cultural conceptualization of justice and disorder within their changing engagement with the state.

Litongo routinely cooperate with other local authorities – both informal and formal. In my experience, the collaboration was most frequent with lower administrative levels of the local government, including sub-village and village staff. Communication occurred less frequently with higher levels, for example ward, division or district officials (Rodima Reference Rodima2007). One could also notice a contentious relationship between litongo and the state judiciary. I observed numerous court cases and records at Tarime District Court and the regional Mwanza High Court that revealed a strong pattern of the decisions that were delivered and administered by litongo and jadi being overturned once the matter reached the state court (Rodima Reference Rodima2007: 304–14). Despite the efficacy of these informal institutions in curbing local theft and crime, state court officials were eager to point out that, according to Tanzanian law, traditional institutions were empowered to deal only with minor offences and could not deprive anybody of property.

The complex and contentious relationship with the state is essential to the operation of Kuria informal authority. As Abrahams (Reference Abrahams and Harris1996: 42) has indicated, vigilante movements in Africa should not be seen in isolation from the state: ‘Rather than reject the state, vigilantism commonly thrives on the idea that the state's legitimacy at any point in time depends on its ability to provide citizens with the levels of law and order they demand.’ By defining the state's legitimacy through its contribution to a commonly imagined ideal state of affairs, vigilantes reaffirm its importance. As Herzfeld (Reference Herzfeld1997) shows with the example of animal theft among Cretan mountain shepherds, vigilante practices may simultaneously defy the state and justify its incursions, employing the same cultural icons utilized by the state to legitimize its interventions. This cultural model of ‘an ideal past’ is a uniting bond between the state and the vigilantes, offering the latter evidence of ‘the condition of moral corruption that makes engagement with the state an acceptable, pragmatic accommodation’ (Herzfeld Reference Herzfeld1997: 109) – and justifying their partial acceptance of and cooperation with the formal authority.

Such a contentious but symbiotic relationship with state structures is characteristic of both economic and political self-help of the Kuria. Kuria vigilantes justify their actions through their association with the ‘traditional and clan-based’ councils such as litongo and inchama, presenting themselves as guardians of ‘clan self-reliance’. Through their rhetoric of traditional cooperation and self-reliance – so pervasively ingrained in the Tanzanian collective memory of the socialist era – they evoke longing for a Kuria mythical past where clan institutions and rituals safeguarded people's prosperity. The operation of the present-day ‘clan councils’, however, is deeply rooted in the political realities of the increasingly heterogeneous, multi-ethnic villages. The secret council inchama has become less of a mystical guardian of the ritual than a practical institution of dispute adjudication, active in community politics. The group meets more frequently than in the past and has regular contacts with local people. Much of the veil of secrecy is gone, although the most important rituals are still performed in private. The clan assembly litongo has become more neighbourhood based, providing flexible means of local negotiation and peacekeeping. Its novel formalized unit of armed guards is regularly drawn upon by the bodies of local state administration as well. Litongo in their present form combine the legitimacy that derives from their claimed association with ‘traditional’ Kuria clans with an ability to successfully deal with threats to the social order in increasingly complex local environments. Whereas the nature of customary Kuria moral community could be exemplified in the secret clan council inchama, as Ruel (Reference Ruel1959) has claimed, I find that the moral community of the present day finds its embodiment in the institution of litongo – an informal neighbourhood meeting of flexible size and plural affiliation.

CONCLUSION: EMERGING ASSOCIATIONAL SPACES IN POST-SOCIALIST TANZANIA

The metaphors of familial sharing and working together have provided a common cultural idiom for diverse state and non-state actors in postcolonial Tanzania. Borrowed from the allegedly ‘customary’ modes of African mutual help, these concepts were employed by the socialist administration to consolidate a struggling post-colony of 120 different ethnic groups through forceful resettlement and communal production initiatives. The same metaphors also inspired popular resistance in the form of burgeoning self-help initiatives in the new villages. The neoliberal reforms of the 1980s provided further impetus for the rise of novel peer work groups and informal militia in Kuria communities. Helping to negotiate new norms of mutuality in uncertain times, these novel associations continued to be defined by the old idioms of familyhood and cooperation. It could be argued that the concepts of mutuality as used by socialist state ideologies as well as by various local initiatives served to evoke ‘structural nostalgia’ – ‘a collective representation of an Edenic order … in which the balanced perfection of social relations has not yet suffered the decay that affects everything human’ (Herzfeld Reference Herzfeld1997: 109). The familial metaphors of communal activities seem to imply an imagined ideal of reciprocity. The use of such culturally iconic idioms may have contributed to the ability of the work groups to serve the interests of widely different purposes and categories of individuals. While empowering poor women and youth, the groups could also facilitate individual accumulation and solidify the positions of wealthy businessmen and elders. Mutual help groups have contributed to the integration of the spheres of money and labour and have expanded money use among wider social categories – impacts seemingly at odds with the proclaimed ideals of equality and sharing. Through the socialist rhetoric of the authoritarian state and its forceful villagization policies, these concepts became reified and their connections to actual social practices obscured. But it may have been that static quality, ‘the very rigidity’ of the outward form, that encouraged strategic subversions by social actors, providing them with an effective ‘mask with which to conceal a variety of messages’ (Herzfeld Reference Herzfeld1997: 21) as they furthered their own agendas. At the same time, it also functioned as a powerful integrative mechanism between the local people and the state, facilitating their interaction as well as mutual defiance through the shared repertoire of cultural intimacy.Footnote ²⁵

What do the novel associational spaces imply for evolving moralities and public spaces in Tanzania? What kind of wider systemic dynamic do these innovative collective arrangements facilitate, and what are the regulatory capacities of this rising informality? Kuria mutual help groups display a somewhat contradictory but creative intermingling of diverse organizational templates and concepts. The resulting normative and organizational plurality makes it easier for the groups to engage new types of resources and categories of participants; nevertheless, the developing elements of formalization remain dispersed and partial. The proliferation of various formal organizational features and the increasing importance of written by-laws and sanctions in the groups also indicate a growing judicialization of mutuality in Kuria communities. Comaroff and Comaroff (Reference Comaroff and Comaroff2006) have associated the weakening of the central bureaucratic authority in the African post-colony with a growing focus on law and legality in order to manage the growing heterodoxy of the modern nation state. The increase in acts of ‘lawfare’ by the state – ‘the resort to legal instruments, to the violence inherent in the law, to commit acts of political coercion’ (Comaroff and Comaroff Reference Comaroff and Comaroff2006: 30) – can lead to a parallel dialectic of law and disorder in local communities. With an increasing emphasis on formal registration, financial inclusion and other aspects of formalization of the informal sector, Tanzanian voluntary associations fight to be recognized by diverse local and central authorities. That observed fetishism of disembedded legalities in the Kuria groups may reflect the tendency of such associations to turn more and more to various strategies of ‘informal formalization’ to gain legitimacy and authority.

Similar tendencies of plural formalization and partial institutionalization have also been observed in other informal economies in Africa (see Hull and James Reference Hull and James2012). Comparative evidence shows that, by drawing on local innovation and creativity, mutual help groups may provide a welcoming venue for adaptive learning and experimentation. Gudeman (Reference Gudeman2001: 114) has suggested that communal contexts are important particularly for innovations that occur in conditions of persistent instability. Building on diverse elements of unpredictability, specialized groups in these contexts can be seen as a ‘production community’ for joint learning and experimenting (Gudeman Reference Gudeman2001). The varied and experimental nature of the new informal activities can contribute to redefining wider public moralities and occupational identities. Considering the fluidity of the African informal sector, Bryceson (Reference Bryceson and Bryceson2010b: 266) suggests that attention should be paid to the ‘transformative moral negotiations taking place in everyday life’. As new work codes and social alliances arise through negotiation and collective experimentation, the emerging moralities are defined contextually: ‘During occupational experimentation, moral influences on behavior will necessarily become more plural, open-ended and negotiable’ (Bryceson Reference Bryceson and Bryceson2010b: 277). Contemporary African mutual help associations that have obtained their specific form in the context of neoliberal deregulation reforms may therefore be seen as part of the ‘visible, if ambiguous, sites where new normative systems, new common languages, and the constitution of new regimes of governance are being negotiated’ (Pratten Reference Pratten, Pratten and Sen2008b: 192).

To understand the broader social impacts of African voluntary associations, it is therefore important to concentrate on the patterns of trust and cooperation that emerge through the activities of these informal collectivities. The activities of Kuria work groups that concentrated on specific occupational areas and facilitated communication between peers exhibited some potential to facilitate trust among the group members. Participation in various cooperative groups was particularly pronounced in the areas of higher in-migration and seasonal mobility, such as the Serengeti lowlands, as well as in ethnically diverse locations that comprised different clans and ethnic groups. Dijkstra (Reference Dijkstra and Bryceson2010: 62) observed similar tendencies in the ‘low-trust’ communities of neighbouring Kenya, where local horticultural traders formed informal savings associations at local marketplaces that frequently transcended ‘gender, ethnic and age divisions’. The trust created through joint activities, however, was based primarily on personal interaction and face-to-face ties (Dijkstra Reference Dijkstra and Bryceson2010: 62). Concentrating on the potential instability of such ties, Bähre (Reference Bähre2007: 172) has described how the activities of financial self-help groups among the Xhosa migrants of Cape Town resulted in ‘ambivalent social configurations’ and ‘reluctant solidarity’ in the turbulent environments of crime and social unrest. Instead of facilitating broader social cohesion, the groups effected ‘small bonds of ambivalence’ among the residents of the townships (Bähre Reference Bähre2007: 173). Particularly in the contexts of social and economic instabilities, informal associations have an ambiguous potential to facilitate cooperation as well as conflict. As can be seen, the hypothetical values of social cohesion and collectivism had not given rise to Kuria mutual help groups, nor were they a product of their operation. While creating new contexts for collaboration and social support, the multiplication of diverse memberships and functions also had the potential to lead to conflicting obligations and competition over scarce resources. The Kuria concept of extending a person was a thoroughly relational one, its processual dimensions highlighted by the indexical conceptualization of personal and social growth in Kuria ritual. The Kuria work and savings groups therefore presented an interesting paradox of a growing organizational formalization of the groups within a setting of multiple ties of entrustment and obligation, intersecting affiliations and memberships, and the pronounced importance of relationality in regulating a complex web of debts.

Kuria mutual help groups enabled their participants to advance their socio-economic standing and extend themselves as individuals in culturally accepted ways. The goal of work group participation was not a pursuit of material wealth through exploiting the labour of one's peers, but rather an ongoing and relational process of extending one's self through ties of interdependence. As the main focus of the Kuria ritual lay in bringing about an orderly change in the directionality of life-sustaining flows, Kuria work and savings groups could be seen as quasi-ritual settings, defined by their ability to effect socially relevant value conversions. That accorded them the power to engage new types of resources and carve novel niches and gendered spaces. By providing invaluable contexts for relational self-realization along the lines of the ancestral Kuria principle of ‘extending a person’, the groups emerged as innovative passageways to facilitate the flows between the domestic realm and the bountiful outside.