“Diamonds in the Rough” is a brave choice of title for an academic book, given the large number of volumes that appear when this title is Googled! Nonetheless, it is an apt one, and Todd Cleveland did well to draw upon it in his analysis of diamond mining in Angola from 1917 to 1975, and the company, Diamang (Companhia de Diamantes de Angola, Diamond Company of Angola), that controlled it. This is a book that “builds on and extends the rich literature on mining experiences in central and southern Africa” (9) by presenting what is the first history of diamond mining in colonial Angola. As Cleveland demonstrates at many points, the social, political, and economic realities of Angola make it very different from other places where mining was undertaken in the region, and as such this is a rich addition to the existing literature.

The narrative of the book spirals. Each chapter traces one theme across the decades from 1917 to 1975, exploring what changed across time and what remained constant. Drawing on a wide range of sources, Cleveland notes that between these years, “approximately one million African men, women and children . . . toiled at Diamang” (3), and here he tells some of their story. Life at Diamang was mostly calm, and the central question he explores is “Why, in light of the demanding labor regime in Lunda [diamond region], did African mine workers not adopt a more militant posture?” (3). The answer Cleveland offers is that working at Diamang was one of the few ways in which colonial taxes could be paid, and that the quality of life for workers there was relatively good. He argues that Diamang was “pragmatic, paternalistic, and profit-driven,” and that in turn the local labor force became “professionalized” (4)—all processes that receive his analytic attention.

By exploring the political economy of Lunda from 1870 (chapter 2), Cleveland shows how Diamang assumed the role of a “state within a state”—relatively autonomous but building on and contributing financially to the Portuguese colonial apparatus. Diamang relied on colonial practices such as shibalo (forced labor) to provide workers for the mines in the early years, and on relationships with local officials at all levels later on. These relationships ensured that desertion rates remained reasonably low, and that workers were constantly replenished through a dual-prong recruitment process of voluntary and contracted labor (chapter 3).

Cleveland gives a rich portrayal of the processes through which individuals became subjects of capitalism. He describes the long journeys made—often on foot—to the mines, through the “garden city” of Dundo, “a space incomparable to any [recruits] had witnessed previously” (69). There workers were medically examined, weighed, and prepared for the time they would spend mining—the latter largely through dialogue with others who had already completed contracts and were then returning home. On arrival at Diamang houses were assigned, or more often constructed from mud and sticks, in a manner designed to create (relative) space and privacy. Indeed, Diamang encouraged employees to bring their wives and children, as the latter were essential in the attainment of food security, as well as important for social stability (chapters 4, 5, and 6).

Cleveland’s analysis of the labor performed at the Diamang mines does not shy away from the injury, violence, and multifaceted deprivations that mine-workers experienced. Nonetheless, the text also emphasizes the positive gains of engagement with Diamang, whose management appears to have been for the most part committed to the health and happiness of the workforce—even if simply in order to maximize profits. This allowed the company to grow and remain productive during the turbulence of the early twentieth century, remaining relatively undisturbed by the war for independence that broke out in 1961. Laborers typically returned home at the end of their contracts, usually were paid, and sometimes came back to work more (chapter 7).

With Angolan independence in 1975, Diamang’s fortunes changed, and the site of (mostly) orderly capitalist production that Cleveland describes ceased. The epilogue speaks briefly about the nationalization of Diamang and the violent contestation of resources in the region most famously documented by Rafael Marques (Diamantes de Sangue: corrupção e tortura em Angola [Tinta-da-China, 2011]). Given the events of recent memory, it is little wonder, Cleveland suggests, that many residents of the Lundas and former Diamang employees spoke with nostalgia for the “cadences of Diamang’s mine overseers and the revelry of Saturday evening encampment gatherings” (217). It is this nostalgia that shows the “diamond” in the rough of this particular extraction system.

This is an informative and helpful book that will undoubtedly interest a wide rage of scholars. I did, however, find myself thinking that a Lusophone Atlantic framing might have added to the text. South African and Zambian mines were typically pit formations, whereas Diamang operated in alluvial fields, which required different extraction processes. On the other side of the ocean—and in the same broad context of Portuguese life and law—the diamond mines of Brazil’s Minas Gerais region seem to offer far more compelling sites for potential comparison than urban apartheid Johannesburg. Indeed, it is likely that many of the slaves captured in the pre-Diamang Lundas would have found themselves laboring under much the same conditions as their distant descendants who Cleveland portrays so well. It might be fruitful to think of the two together.