Scholars interested in the study of West Africa’s pre-nineteenth-century past are confronted with the scarcity of surviving evidence, particularly with regard to written sources. Within this context, Portuguese-language sources assume a central role, as from the fifteenth century onwards, they provide insight into European interactions across various regions of the African continent. The continuous presence in these territories, the role of political centralization in colonial administration, and even the appropriation of literacy by certain African elites facilitated the collection, accumulation and preservation of these records, both in Europe and in Africa.

Mariana Candido’s latest book, Wealth, Land, and Property in Angola, makes exemplary use of this documental wealth. Drawing on an extensive array of primary sources and bibliography, Candido employs both imagination and meticulous research to shed new light on the processes of resistance and acculturation among the peoples of West Central Africa. One of the book’s major contributions lies in its analysis of the way in which the dissemination of writing and legal culture played a role in the commodification of land by African actors. Over time, this process gradually overshadowed traditional mechanisms of wealth accumulation based on lineage networks – the so-called wealth in people – which had previously been dominant. In this evolving landscape, new opportunities emerged for women, who, by leveraging colonial legal frameworks, were able to gain economic advantages that would have been restricted under African customary courts.

The agency of African women in Angola’s colonial spaces, particularly in urban areas, is not a novel subject, as can be seen in the works of José Curto and Vanessa Oliveira.Footnote ¹ However, Candido’s study is distinguished by its systematic approach, firmly grounded in notarial, judicial and ecclesiastical sources. This enables her to present a vivid portrayal of women’s actions and their strategic engagement with colonial legislation. Nevertheless, exploring two additional dimensions could possibly further enhance our understanding of these women’s experiences. The first concerns the background of the women who contested rights in colonial courts, many of whom did not necessarily belong to the elite. It would be valuable to gain further insight into the factors that drove them away from their communities of origin. How did they accumulate wealth? In what ways – and for what reasons – did they disengage from their patriarchal structures? The case of Catarina da Costa, who in 1814 appealed for justice to the governor of Benguela, appears to be particularly illustrative. Catarina came from the Bailundu highlands, yet she was ‘fully integrated into colonial society and used the colonial system to win small victories’. Similarly, in 1826, Caraxina, a woman with an Umbundu name, turned to the authorities to reclaim three dependants who had been illegally seized by three African black men (p. 116). The emergence of such compelling cases invites further inquiry into the broader context in which women severed ties with their communities. Beyond internal disputes and conflicts, could it be that some African women (and, indeed, men) moved fluidly between different social and political arenas – acting as ‘brokers’ between colonial authorities, sobas and pumbeiros – and, in doing so, sought to capitalize on the opportunities granted by the colonial setting?

A second aspect relates to the challenges of quantifying the number of African women who attained significant economic status. Throughout Candido’s analysis, the impression emerges that women from various backgrounds frequently resorted to legal mechanisms to assert their rights under colonial legislation. At times, the abundance of cited cases prompts the author to caution that her findings represent only a fraction of the whole. Without disputing this, one might ask whether it is possible to push further towards quantification – or at least to estimate orders of magnitude – regarding the number of economically influential African women residing in urban centres, such as Luanda and Benguela, at any given time. To what extent might the wealth of colonial censuses from the late eighteenth century onwards, alongside parish records and fiscal documentation, contribute to such quantification efforts?

Wealth, Land, and Property in Angola explores, on multiple levels, the complex ways in which central and local authorities gradually imposed a new colonial order centred on law, literacy and new forms of agricultural and labour exploitation. In ‘The population under control: property, law, and its limits’ (Chapter 3, pp. 102–11), Candido discusses the colonial census as an instrument of power, specifically examining the 1866 census of Benguela. She highlights the authorities’ interest in recording the ‘rulers who lived under Portuguese nominal control … dembos avassalados, sobas independent from the dembos avassalados, and the sobas under the jurisdiction of vassal dembos’ (p. 107). This discussion recalls the systematic registration of local rulers subordinated to the authorities of each presídio (military district) in the colonial censuses compiled regularly from 1797 onwards. More significant than the raw figures themselves are the observations made by the presídios’ captains regarding the actions of local potentates. These accounts offer a more spontaneous perspective on the evolving nature of these interactions. Building on studies by Daniel Domingues and José Curto and Raymond Gervais,Footnote ² I am particularly interested in how Candido assesses such sources as tools for interpreting the development of Portuguese colonialism in West Central Africa.