Chapter XIII
Reconciliation Traditions: Meru's Golden Age

"I had come from Embu, which then included Chuka, Muthambe and Mwimbi. . . . I was told there that the local legislative bodies [the Ramare, the Kibogo, and the Ngome] had their counterparts . . . in Meru [where] the Njuri corresponded to Kibogo and Ngome. . . . [Yet] on arrival in Meru I found that the Njuri could only be mentioned in whispers and an atmosphere of secrecy."^[1]
Hugo E. Lambert
District Commissioner, Meru
1933–1935,1939–1942

The "Nativist" Administrators

The 1929 selection of J. Gerald H. Hopkins as district commissioner marked the beginning of Meru's "Golden Age," an era in which the adherents of ancestral tradition, mission Christianity, and British colonialism reached new levels of tolerance and understanding. It was a notable shift, for the ten years prior to Hopkins's appointment had been characterized by the rule of an administrative generation of self-proclaimed pragmatists, men less concerned with native traditions than in running their districts efficiently and at a profit. In contrast the fifteen years following Hopkins's appointment were shaped by the rule of a series of self-declared "nativists", men who saw themselves as administrator-anthropologists, dedicated to the understanding and even reconstruction of native ways of life.

Meru was fortunate to have drawn no fewer than three of these men in near succession. Hopkins, having crushed the fringe societies in 1927–1929, worked tirelessly from 1929 to 1933 to restore other aspects of Meru tradition. He was followed in mid-1933 by Hugo E. Lambert, an African linguist, anthropologist, and tireless researcher, who ruled Meru until 1935 and again from 1939 to 1942. Lambert was followed—after a brief return to pragmatism—by Capt. Victor M. McKeag, who ran the district from mid-1937 to 1939 and again (following Lambert's second term) from 1942 to 1945.^[2]

The three administrators were alike in several ways. All were born near the end of the 1800s and had attended English public schools. Each had had early military experience, having served with the King's African Rifles during World War I. Each then entered the colonial service, passing through a number of regional postings during the 1920s. At some point each man became fascinated with the customs, cultures, and (in Lambert's case) languages of the African peoples they ruled, a fascination that enabled all three to cast off prevailing stereotypes regarding the "savage and simplistic nature" of Kenya's tribal cultures and seek instead to understand and restore them in their full complexity.^[3]

Restoring Ntuiko: The Transfer Of Power

Hopkins had begun by restoring the traditional cleansing oath. Although the oathing ceremony had been somewhat retailored to British sensibilities, his efforts had been warmly received by the Meru. The experiment intensified his interest in Meru tradition, and he began to search out other aspects of the past that might be revived, with modifications to fit the district's current needs.

In 1929, for example, he was increasingly perplexed at the degree to which the entire Meru region had seemed to slip into lawlessness and apathy. Despite suppression of the witchcraft bands, many areas remained in an abnormal state, in which disobedience both of government and tribal authority remained widespread. Hopkins was especially alarmed about the rising passivity of many elders. Many members of the oldest age-sets, perhaps disheartened by the removal of their ritualists, now showed unprecedented apathy.^[4] Many no longer helped women work the fields, even when such work was required by tradition. Others moved between sporadic brawling and a daily alcoholic stupor.

Hopkins was equally concerned with the behavior of the former warriors. All of them seemed to have taken to drinking, in universal defiance of the tradition restricting millet beer to ruling elders. Worse, many had formed themselves into the traditional war bands and taken up new forms of raiding, seizing livestock with equal determination from both family heads and ruling elders. Departing from tradition, they inflicted constant damage on homesteads, groves, granaries, and gardens. Nor did they return the captured livestock to their own fathers, as custom required. Rather, they drove entire herds into the forests or rock-strewn hills on the district's desert fringes and devoured them all.^[5]

Hopkins reacted initially to both aspects of the problem by inquiring among the more prominent elders as to its probable cause. Perhaps to his surprise, several declared that at least part of the current unrest was due to a delay in Ntuiko, the ritualized transfer of administrative authority between those age-sets currently in power (ruling elders and their warrior sons) and those whose turn it was to rule (family heads and their sons approaching warriorhood).

Before the conquest this formal handing over of authority had taken place in two stages, one involving the two sets of elders; the second, their two sets of sons. The military transfer took the form of limited and stylized combat. It began at some moment when the younger age-set felt numerically strong enough to expel physically the remaining senior warriors from the war barracks and seize it for themselves. Expulsion was inevitable as the older warriors gradually abandoned warriorhood to seek wives and their juniors reached physical maturity. On reaching numerical superiority, the juniors would revolt against their seniors, with the older warriors' expulsion serving as a symbolic end to their time of warriorhood.

In practice these ritualized expulsions usually began among the clans of Tigania and Igembe, then moved southward, ridgetop by ridgetop, until every war barracks had changed hands, usually over a single season. Each expulsion was followed by a brief period of permitted anarchy within each ridgetop area as the former warriors were allowed to band together one last time. Once united, they raided at will, but this time among their own kin, despoiling groves and gardens and harrying flocks and herds. There was a social purpose in this lawlessness. It symbolized the fact that "no one" ruled, since the family heads had not yet taken power from the ruling elders. By "raiding" the gardens, flocks, and herds of both those age-sets, the former warriors symbolically prodded them into completing the transfer of power.

The expelled warriors' continued depredations probably did spur spokesmen from both age-sets to initiate Ntuiko's second stage. At some point spokesmen for the family heads in each community would approach the ruling elders bearing gifts. Assembled in a joint Kiama, they would agree to the transfer. Custom required each elder to provide a sheep and millet beer for a communal feast to symbolize the reconciliation of both age-sets with those of the ancestors and thus complete the formal transfer of administrative power.^[6]

Hopkins's inquiries established that the first stage of the transfer—the military expulsion of the senior warriors—had begun a year earlier

and was now virtually complete. Much of the raiding that concerned him was thus at least partially due to the tradition of interim lawlessness. But because completion of these rites had been indefinitely delayed according to the elders, the condition of permitted anarchy persisted as well.

Hopkins, unwilling to permit anarchy of any sort, demanded the reason for such delay. He was told that because the millet harvests of the last two years had been lost to locusts, too little grain remained to brew beer. Without beer no feasts of reconciliation could occur because beer alone was used to bless those assuming authority. Without the proper blessings the ancestors would disapprove. Without their approval the entire process of transfer would remain incomplete.

Meru elders found the explanation wholly logical and an ample justification for indefinite delay. Eventually new millet could be harvested, and the rituals would begin again. Hopkins sharply disagreed. Negotiating for small amounts of millet from districts outside Meru, the district commissioner moved from ridgetop to ridgetop, cajoling, explaining, and commanding that it be brewed and used symbolically to complete the rituals. Gradually, the communities complied. The feasts took place, the blessings were proclaimed, and the age-set of Murungi—warriors at the moment of British conquest—assumed authority as ruling elders of Meru.^[7]

Restoring Agambe: The "Spokesmen" System

Having established the authority of a single set of elders, Hopkins was gratified to see an appreciable drop in the level of illicit cattle-raiding. He then addressed the problem of the elders' passivity, feeling it was due at least partially to their lack of the administrative authority before the conquest had been used to maintain discipline within their communities. Reflecting on this, he seized on the idea of restoring the system of communal spokesmen (the Agambe system), as part of a larger goal of returning traditional authority to Meru elders as a whole. It was only owing to the frequent changes in district commissioner, he subsequently wrote, "that the system of administering clans through their own Agambe [spokesmen] has been lost sight of and has apparently fallen into disuse for many years."^[8]

Hopkins began by dismantling the lowest level of the existing administrative structure, that of the tribal retainers (Njama), and replacing them with Agambe. Thereafter, he hoped to replace the colonial

headmen with them as well, arguing that those considered spokesmen for their peoples should logically lead them, whereas the government-appointed headmen were disinclined to use what little authority they had.

Hopkins carried out his plan between 1929 and 1932, gradually dismissing existing tribal retainers and replacing them with men considered spokesmen for their clans. To ensure adequate selection, he informally sought out respected elders in every clan, from whom he elicited the names of individuals they wished to represent them. Once identified, he appointed these as clan Agambe (spokesmen), explaining that their role would be both to aid headmen in implementing colonial decisions and to advise them of the expectations of each clan. To stir their enthusiasm, Hopkins offered each appointee a monthly wage.

Hopkins subsequently reported that he had reinstituted the "Agambe system" throughout the district. Although several individuals did choose to serve, he made three errors. One lay in his assumption that appointees were "heads of clans," a pattern prevalent in other parts of Britain's empire. In fact, they all represented a far larger communal institution, personified initially by their local Kiamas but ultimately by their regional Njuri. Thus every appointee was spokesman for a single institution. For Hopkins to recognize them as clan leaders was not enough. For them to function as he expected, he would have had to recognize the dual Kiama and Njuri system for which they "spoke" as well.

Hopkins's second error lay in the expectation that his appointees, once recognized by government, would willingly serve two masters. They had found this impossible during the early decades of British rule and found it no easier during the 1930s. Most of the elders chosen saw Hopkins's selection as an attempt to seduce them from their rightful function as spokesmen for their own Njuris. Because the Njuris were still banned, they had no organization to represent. Most refused to serve. A few accepted. Neither group proved able to serve two masters effectively.

Hopkins's final error was his decision to offer pay. It was usually refused. Puzzled, he abandoned the idea, at least briefly, for lack of sufficient funds to pay what he feared the appointees would require. Here he misread the elders' motives. To have accepted any pay at all would have transformed them into spokesmen for the government. The qualities of spokesmanship that had originally led to their selection by their comrades were derived from serving Meru. Those would have been lost had the elders accepted wages to serve England.

Nonetheless, Hopkins persevered, gradually replacing first tribal retainers and then headmen with elders prominent in their communities. Despite his errors, his policy marked a major turning point in relationships between colonial officials and leading Meru elders. From their perspective he became the first administrator since E. B. Horne to see value in the tribal past and show respect for its tradition. At the very least, Hopkins began to inspire trust.

Hopkins saw himself simply as practical. Faced with the dual problem of lawlessness among the young and apathy among the old, it seemed only logical to restore the authority of elders, thereby allowing them to discipline the youth. His contribution was creating an environment wherein traditional spokesmen could speak out without fear. Its flaw lay in his refusal to recognize the institution for which they claimed to speak; the Njuri system was banned as a witchcraft tribunal as long as Hopkins ruled.

Legalizing Njuri: The Council System

Legalizing the Njuri system throughout Meru was left to Hopkins's successor, Hugo E. Lambert, who became district commissioner in early 1933. Lambert came to Kenya just before World War I, spending his military service in pursuit of the brilliant German East African general, Hermann von Lettow.^[9]

The experience committed him completely to life in Africa, and he eagerly accepted an opportunity to join the Kenya colonial service in 1918. During the 1920s he served in several posts from the Gikuyu regions to the Swahili Coast. During this period he demonstrated an astonishing capacity to absorb African languages; he could understand all but the most esoteric conversations within a few months after his arrival in a region.

A shy man, he proved only rarely willing to speak back or enter into conversations. Nonetheless, his linguistic capacity opened up a window through which he could gaze with fascination at the complexities of African life. In consequence he became the very prototype of administrator-anthropologist, striving to understand the inner workings of each tribe to which he was assigned.

In 1929, Lambert was made district commissioner of Embu, Meru's neighbor to the south, which at that time still administered the locations of Mwimbi, Muthambi, and Cuka (formerly Chuka).^[10] During that time, he came in contact with the basic forms of the dual Kiama

and Njuri system as it operated in that region of Mount Kenya. The nature of his administrative duties, as well as his anthropological inclinations, led him to question many Embu elders about the system's structure and purposes.

He learned initially that the system operated in every region of Mount Kenya, including among the tribes (Tharaka, Mbeere, Kamba, etc.) on the adjacent plains. He was told that it always contained two levels—local Kiamas and a single higher council for each region—but that the names of both the lower and more select councils could differ from tribe to tribe and that each could have more than one name. Thus, the local Kiamas throughout Embu district—including those of Cuka, Muthambi, and Mwimbi, were known collectively as the Kibogo. The more select council-of-councils that emerged from each subtribe was known either as the Ngome (Embu, Cuka) or Nkome (Muthambi, Mwimbi).

Further inquiry led him to decide that both the lower and higher levels of this system functioned basically as units of social control, levying economic penalties in the form of livestock for violations of communal norms. To enforce their judgments, both institutions resorted to the communal curse, using the device of collective chanting to instill respect and fear. Under British law this chanting was defined as witchcraft, yet Lambert—increasingly able to comprehend the symbolic meanings of African traditions—began to realize the chanted curses were, in fact, intended to restore harmony rather than wreak destruction.

In 1933 he was transferred to Meru, assuming the post of district commissioner only one month before the transfer of Mwimbi, Muthambi, and Cuka into his jurisdiction. Having had experience with both levels of the elders' council in the three newly assigned subtribes, he felt those in Meru would prove no different.

He was only partially correct. On turning his attention to the elders council systems in Igoji-Imenti and Tigania-Igembe, he found that although the local Kiamas still functioned their more select council-of-councils had been mistakenly identified by earlier district officers with the witchcraft extortion societies that had only recently been suppressed. Lambert was convinced that no further progress could be made without cooperation from members of the three regional Njuris. The Njuri ya Kiama (Imenti-Igoji), however, existed only in the memories of its former members, having been unable to survive the government ban. The same could easily be said of the Ngome councils of

Cuka, Mwimbi, and Muthambi. Only the Njuri Nceke (Tigania-Igembe) still clung actively to life, but its members lived in an atmosphere of suspicion, hostility, and fear.

Following past practice, Lambert began by making extensive inquiries as to the nature of the two northern Njuri systems, intending to compare them to what he knew of the Ngome system in the south. He began by questioning his own interpreter, then one of the more successful chiefs. The chief revealed that most of the more important colonial appointees were members of one of the two regional Njuris, although he himself had refused to join. He spoke at length about the institution, confirming Lambert's earlier convictions that the Meru Njuri and the Mwimbi-Cuka Ngome were essentially similar and that each was a positive force within the tribe.

At this point Lambert was approached by a small number of African Christians, who offered to "teach him Njuri." The gesture was one of unusual courage. The speakers were young men of no personal standing in the tribe. As Meru they stood in awe of their Njuri. As Christians they were equally awed by their ministers, whom they had served since childhood and who disapproved strongly of Njuri members as heathen.^[11]

One of these men was Filipo (later the Reverend) M'Inoti, one of the earliest Methodist converts and the first to achieve complete literacy in Swahili. In 1933 he decided to speak to the Reverends A. J. Hopkins and W. H. Laughton, then in charge of the United Methodist Mission in Imenti, about the actual functions of the Njuri Meru society.^[12]

Both ministers reacted to M'Inoti's narrative with considerable interest. Hopkins then brought M'Inoti to the attention of Lambert. It was a perfect match. M'Inoti proved willing to provide detailed answers to Lambert's unending inquiries, and the district commissioner needed no further support for his decision to revoke the ban.

Among the Njuri elders, however, Lambert's initial public pronouncements were greeted with utter silence. No one came forward. No one discussed the issue. Nothing changed. Lambert's next step, therefore, was to undermine and dispel the elders' hostility and suspicion. Abandoning the device of public proclamation, he turned to intermittent mention of the Njuris—by formal name—at every public meeting he attended, publicly behaving as though the ban had never taken place.

This initial tactic was soon supplemented by repeated public appeals for assistance from the Njuri of whichever region he was visiting. The

publicized requests were then continued in private conversations, when Lambert formally visited notable and respected elders, bearing gifts in traditional fashion, then calling for the "aid of their Njuri" (rather than their aid as individuals) in implementing various reforms.^[13]

Over time Lambert's efforts bore fruit. Many hitherto hostile elders were unexpectedly impressed with his knowledge of their tradition, as well as with his seemingly miraculous ability—after a few months—to understand much of their language. Collectively, members of the Njuri Nceke initially responded to Lambert's coaxing with a decision to meet in daylight rather than at night as they had for over a decade. Noting Lambert's enthusiastic reaction when he learned of the meeting, they began to meet once more at Nciru, the group's traditional gathering point. Lambert reacted to this innovation by presenting them with a bull, to be consumed at a feast in his honor. Reassured as to his intentions, the Njuri Nceke reemerged, followed hesitantly by the Njuri ya Kiama of Imenti and Igoji, into public life. The ban was lifted and the Njuri system had survived.

Legalizing Ngome: The Njuri Of The South

In subsequent years Lambert turned his attention to restoring the system of elders' councils among the three southern peoples of Mwimbi, Muthambi, and Cuka. Within these regions the problems were more complex, as the three highest councils of Ngome (Cuka) and Nkome (Muthambi and Mwimbi) had all been totally suppressed by a combination of aggressive district officers, zealous chiefs, and the imposition of administrative methods from Gikuyu.^[14]

Lambert's first decision was to group the three newcomers into a single administrative unit, together with Igoji and Miutini, which he christened the Nithi, or Southern, Division. The remaining peoples of Imenti, Tigania, Igembe, and Tharaka were similarly joined to make up a new Meru, or Northern, Division.

Lambert began the transformation, as always, with inquiries among respected elders in each of the three subtribes. Unfortunately, in this instance he spoke first to his personal translators, all of whom were from Imenti. These individuals told Lambert—correctly—that the concept of Njuri had begun in Tigania, thereafter spreading north into Igembe, then southward through Imenti and Igoji into Mwimbi, Muthambi, and perhaps Cuka. They then added—incorrectly—that peoples south of Igoji were not "true" Meru, thus had no real knowledge of Njuri. It

seemed logical, therefore, to require them to come north, to Imenti and Tigania, where they could "buy [be taught] Njuri" at its source, then take their rightful place as younger brothers in the tribe.

Lambert, impressed by the argument, presented it to the chiefs of Mwimbi and Muthambi, essentially as it had been suggested to him. He was totally unprepared for the wave of outrage that erupted from every corner of the crowd. The formal reply was delivered a day later by a Mwimbi chief, Mburunga Ng'entu. Outraged, Ng'entu led a delegation of equally indignant Mwimbi elders, striding at the head of what became an angry pilgrimage, to protest the relegation of southern Meru peoples to junior status in the tribe:

What kind of people would we be if Njuri had not always been among us. While it is true that the name of Njuri has changed among us, it is neither different nor below [inferior to] that of Tigania. . . . Nor will we let them declare it is so, we [Mwimbi] who have come from Mbwaa [i.e., have been Meru since its tribal beginnings].^[15]

With that, the delegation departed. Nor was their anger quick to heal. For a time neither the Mwimbi, Muthambi, nor Cuka would discuss the topic of Njuri.

By the beginning of Lambert's second term, the southern peoples' indignation had ebbed away. By 1939, however, the system of elders' councils in all three locations was near extinction. The Nkome gatherings within both Mwimbi and Muthambi had long since abandoned their traditional prerogatives, having evolved into little more than social circles where elders met to curse the present and talk about the past. The situation was worse in Cuka, where the council of Ngome existed only in the memories of former members, having been systematically suppressed by the vigor of British district officers sent out from Embu. Thereafter, Cuka had been ruled by a system adapted from the Gikuyu, in which appointed chiefs and tribal retainers had become too powerful to withstand. Faced with such conditions, elders forming the indigenous institutions had retreated into apathy, abandoning even the activities that had sustained the Njuri Nceke.

Formal restoration of the Nkome system began in 1940. To Lambert's surprise the first announcement of his intention evoked such enthusiasm that the district commissioner had to dampen his own fires. His first appeal for the former members of the Nkome to step forward and be greeted was answered by what Lambert subsequently described as "the entire male population of both regions."^[16] Eventually more patient inquiry yielded general agreement as to the appropriate spokes-

men for each district, and the Nkome councils of both Mwimbi and Muthambi began to function.

The Cuka reaction, however, was quite different. There, Lambert's initial appeal to restore the council of Ngome was greeted with universal indifference. Nor did his subsequent inquiries among Cuka elders elicit enthusiasm for the institution's return. Initially perplexed, Lambert resorted to ritual. Selecting two of the most respected senior chiefs, as well as several widely known elders, Lambert transported them with elaborate ceremony to a specially convened meeting of the Njuri ya Kiama in Imenti. There the delegates were courteously invited to "buy Njuri," making token payments of livestock for their initiation.

Having learned the institution's "secrets" (traditions), the delegation returned to Cuka. There, as "fathers" of the new form of elders' council, they began to "sell" (teach) its secrets to other elders, who responded with gifts of livestock in return. The system expanded intermittently, requiring occasional prodding from district officers. Nonetheless, by 1940 it did begin to have an increasingly public role in district administration.^[17] In so doing, however, it incurred the hostility of African members of the colonial service, the so-called little whites.

Njuri Versus The "Little Whites"

Meru colonialism did not lack African defenders. By the late 1930s and early 1940s an entire age-set had grown up within the colonial service, many of its members having carved satisfying careers in the service of England. Lambert, although always attuned to the beliefs of traditional elders, was less sensitive to the feelings of Meru in colonial service. In consequence, completing his investigations of the Njuri in 1935, he began to consider ways to reintegrate the institution into colonial government.

His concern was enthusiastically reflected by his successor, Capt. Victor M. McKeag. McKeag's background was military, including several years' service in the King's African Rifles. He had neither Lambert's linguistic talent nor his anthropological inclination. He did, however, take a lively interest in the peoples he was asked to rule and spent much time studying their traditional institutions. McKeag thus found himself thoroughly caught up in the spirit of Lambert's earlier research and eager to carry out the latter's goals.

During his first months in office, however, he found that members of the Meru colonial service from Igembe to Cuka objected to the integra-

tion of the Njuri in the strongest possible terms. Chiefs, headmen, clerks, translators, and tribunal members who had served colonialism for years, occasionally decades—had become estranged from certain aspects of their tribal past. Many had spent the previous ten years working actively to suppress the Njuri system. Now they protested heatedly against integrating its operations with their own.

McKeag was therefore initially faced with what he subsequently described as a dual government.^[18] During his early tours of the district he found that Lambert's administrative legacy included two sets of regional institutions, indigenous and colonial, operating continuously while scrupulously ignoring the other's existence.

Perhaps the best example of this dualism appeared in the judicial sphere, where an unspoken but identifiable competition had begun to appear between each of the regional Njuris and the colonial Local Native Councils for Imenti, Tigania, and Igembe. At one level each competed for litigants. Those who wished to seek legal judgments now weighed the comparative merit of local tradition versus English law. Simultaneously, each institution began to serve as a court of alternate appeal, as elders dissatisfied with judgments rendered by either the colonial or traditional body could try their luck once more with its competitor. In essence that meant each conflict required two decisions, a situation McKeag found both redundant and pointless.

The district commissioner moved to integrate the two systems at several points. He had least success in coordinating the work of chiefs and headmen with Njuri spokesmen. In contrast to Hopkins, McKeag began at the top, asking the appropriate higher councils to appoint as many spokesmen as were required to work with each colonial chief. He intended both sides to consult with one another while implementing colonial commands, but they refused to share authority. Chiefs insisted the spokesmen carry out their orders; spokesmen argued they were not tribal retainers. With few exceptions, McKeag's integration of the administrative structure failed to take root.

His efforts in the judicial sphere, however, were more successful. Here McKeag began to integrate Njuri spokesmen into the Local Native Tribunals. As vacancies occurred within each region, he filled them with "elected" members of the appropriate Njuri. Each "election" was preceded by conversations with Njuri elders until consensus was reached on their selection. Thereafter, McKeag proclaimed an election, requesting the regions' elders to assemble. Gravely he solicited "nominations" for each vacancy. With equal gravity one member of the

regional Njuri would propose the preselected nominee. A unanimous vote followed, and both Meru and British electoral customs were thus satisfied.^[19]

McKeag and Lambert were also able to restore the traditional Njuri oaths. Lambert was particularly concerned by the suppression during the previous decade of every form of oathing. His objection was ecological, based on the rapidly expanding numbers of livestock throughout every section of the Meru reserve. Before the conquest, he argued, every major moment of decision within the lives of every male Meru was marked by the sacrifice of a sheep, goat, or cow. At one level the slaughter and subsequent communal consumption of the animals were meant to symbolize contact with the ancestors, who were believed to share in the feast. Their attendance alerted them to the decisions faced by their living descendants, providing opportunity to approve or interfere with the accompanying oaths.

Both the oath and livestock sacrifice were thus central to each meeting of an elders' council. The death of an animal was the point of contact between elders and ancestors, as the slaughtered beast's spirit passed between the living and the dead. In spiritual terms, the system provided the living with a sense of steady contact with their ancestors. Ecologically, it resulted in a periodic reduction in the numbers of livestock, thereby maintaining an appropriate balance between grazers and grazing.

By abolishing every form of traditional oath, the Europeans had inadvertently cut off a major means of contact with the supernatural. More important, Lambert argued, they had simultaneously cut off the continual slaughter of livestock that had maintained a normal ecological balance. Thereafter, herds had increased at unprecedented rates until existing grazing areas were near exhaustion.^[20]

Lambert's initial steps to restore the traditional forms of oathing, and accompanying animal sacrifice, were similar to those used in legalizing the Njuri itself. He followed a period of early inquiry into the social purposes of each type of oath with continual public discussion of those oaths most appropriate, both at regional mass meetings (baraza ) and with selected groups of ruling elders. In so doing, Lambert symbolically proclaimed government acceptance of both the oaths themselves and the accompanying livestock sacrifices as essential elements of Njuri justice. That in turn signified an end to three decades in which district officers had regarded each cow, sheep, and goat brought to Njuri elders as living evidence of bribery, thus illegal under British law. Instead,

those assembled to resolve conflicts were once again allowed their communal feasting, as symbolic evidence that harmony had been restored.

McKeag and Lambert finally tried to "give Njuri teeth" by restoring the council's power to enforce its collective decisions.^[21] This proved more difficult than previous reforms, for the traditional power of enforcement conflicted sharply with British law. Before the conquest potential violators of Njuri proclamations had been deterred from noncompliance by fear of the council's collective curse. Alternatively, Njuri elders could call upon the weapons of their warrior sons to enforce their will.

Neither curses nor warriors were available to Njuri elders in the 1930s. To replace them, and thereby integrate indigenous authority into the British administration, each of the regional Njuris were "permitted" to seek enforcement of their decisions through appeal to the Local Native Tribunal of their respective regions. Each tribunal could call on the services of tribal police. If requested, it could send them out to enforce Njuri decisions as well as its own. Before doing this, however, the tribunal was required to retry the Njuri proceeding from its own perspective and essentially to find the violator guilty once again.

The decision to enforce such rulings lay solely with the tribunal, since only the colonial body could command tribal police. The method of enforcement, however, followed Meru rather than European tradition. Enforcers worked in pairs, one representing each of two adjacent age-sets. Direct proclamations to the violators were made only in the name of the appropriate Njuri. Most important, fines were levied in livestock rather than money, with a specific percentage of the animals passed on to Njuri elders to provide the basis for their subsequent feasts of reconciliation with the violators themselves.^[22] From the British perspective it was a successful example of how indigenous and colonial institutions could be blended both to protect the present and preserve the past. Most Meru elders grudgingly agreed. There were younger men, however, who did not.

Njuri Versus The "Mission Element"

By 1939 senior African members of both the colonial administration and the three regional Njuris had reached a truce. Elders from both sides, however, had grown increasingly concerned about their inability to deal effectively with the Meru young. Young men who before the conquest would have submitted eagerly to the discipline of warrior-

hood, now drifted aimlessly, drinking and brawling, alienated from colonial and tribal authority alike.

Within the Nithi Division this alienation manifested itself in a rising contempt for communal responsibilities, reflected in increasingly flagrant disregard of laws intended to protect the land, trees, and grazing areas belonging in common to all members of the tribe.

To regain control, one of Meru's senior chiefs, M'Ngaine of Imenti, proposed to integrate the younger generation more completely into tribal life by initiating every member of the "warrior" age-set directly into a regional Njuri. He argued that tribal integrity depended on the acceptance of communal obligations, specifically those imposed on youth through membership in their age-set, clan, local Kiama, and, ultimately, Njuri. Of these, only the Njuri had regained even a portion of its integrative power and thus, the authority to draw young men back under the authority of their ruling elders. To ensure that this occurred in fact, M'Ngaine proposed establishing an "initiation school," able to instruct the young on adherence to tradition and prepare them to assume their responsibilities as Njuri members.^[23]

The administration, controlled at this time by McKeag, enthusiastically agreed. Thereafter, a number of "initiation huts" were established at the time of harvest, first in Imenti and then elsewhere. In most areas the innovation was well received. Whereas tradition had restricted Njuri entry to a select few, it was now opened to every male adult who wished to join. Hundreds responded, expanding the ranks of all regional Njuris beyond counting. On one hand it could be argued that this dilution of the council system's selectivity diminished its authority and prestige. On the other almost every member of a youthful Meru age-set passed once more under the authority of schools run solely by their elders to learn traditions of the tribe.^[24]

One segment of Meru youth, however, categorically refused to join either the initiation schools or the Njuri itself. Meru's so-called mission element, whether Presbyterian, Methodist, or Catholic, had by this time reached early middle age. More than two decades of teaching by their respective mission fathers had eroded their respect for every aspect of the Meru past. Nor did they wish to violate the wishes of the mission heads themselves. In consequence not a single one stepped forth to join.

Their refusal irked McKeag and subsequently Lambert, who reassumed administration of the district at the end of 1939. Both men wished to continue what they regarded as the continued modernization of the Njuri system. To ensure continuation of this process, they had

hoped to dilute the ranks of all regional councils with as many progressive, mission-taught Christians as could be induced to join.^[25]

The missionaries did not agree. The Italian Catholic fathers, at least partially handicapped by their ignorance of English, proved unable to appreciate the subtleties of the issue and withdrew from all deliberations. The United Methodist Mission, under Hopkins, deliberated at length on the question, but ultimately refused to allow its members to join.

The founder of the Church of Scotland Mission, however, was more outspoken. Dr. Clive Irvine made no secret of his utter detestation of the Njuri, as well as his pronounced unwillingness to allow a single Christian convert to join its ranks: "Njuri is a secret society. It is essentially pagan. It has traditions of cruelty, murder, intrigue. . . . No European knows what Njuri stands for or what it does. No secret society reveals it activities. . . . It is abhorrent to the British nature and the exact opposite of the open methods of Christianity."^[26]

Irvine based his opposition on three points. The "pagan" nature of the Njuri, he believed, would obviously weaken Christian convictions by placing converts in situations in conflict with their religious doctrine. Its "tradition of secrecy" threatened the British administration itself, because its members would be required through their very membership to divide their loyalties. Irvine's strongest objection, however, was religious, based on differences in African and British ritual. Njuri rites of initiation, he pointed out, required the slaughter of a goat. Thereafter, new initiates were brought into physical contact with its blood. As Christians, members of his mission were permitted contact only with the "blood of Christ," and then only during periods of official church ritual. No African Christian could, therefore, be allowed to swear an oath that directly violated his religious teachings.

McKeag decided to focus his response upon Irvine's third objection, consulting initially with members of the Imenti and Tigania Njuris, then with the heads of both the Methodist and Presbyterian missions. In August 1938 he proposed a two-point compromise. He first suggested that membership in any European mission be considered the equivalent of joining a local Kiama. Thus Methodist Christians from Imenti would be excused from the preliminary obligation of "buying [membership in] Kiama Kia Nkomango." Presbyterian converts from Mwimbi would no longer need to join the corresponding Kiama system of Njuguma.

McKeag's second suggestion was to modify the Njuri oath so that mission converts could be allowed to join. To achieve this, he asked both sides to accept a dual initiation rite: traditional Njuri candidates

would be oathed on a goat, whereas their Christian counterparts would swear their oaths upon a Bible. Both sides could then agree to preserve the "secrets" of the Njuri in a manner acceptable to each.

Both Irvine and Hopkins agreed to McKeag's plan, each deciding to entrust a small number of their most faithful converts to Njuri membership as an experiment. In September 1938, McKeag responded by proclaiming a regional mass meeting, initially within Imenti, but intended for Njuri members throughout Meru. More than one thousand men are said to have appeared, a far cry from the days when membership was restricted only to the selected few.

McKeag presented both aspects of his proposal. Debate is said to have continued for two full days. Thereafter, spokesmen for the "Njuri of one thousand" appeared before the commissioner to inform him that in the future Christians would be accepted into their ranks on McKeag's terms.

The United Methodist Mission put forth five candidates, among them Filipo M'Inoti and Hezikiah M'Mukiri.^[27] The Church of Scotland chose two, Assistant Superintendent Erasto, from Mwimbi, and Evangelist Junius, from Muthambi. The Catholics, as before, refused to allow any form of participation.

Unfortunately, the first stage of the traditional Njuri ceremony required all candidates to remove their clothes and shoes, stepping forward "as children" to begin the rituals that would end with their acceptance into the fellowship as full adults. Initially every one of the Christian candidates refused. The impasse was resolved only after several hours' deliberation, by an Njuri decision to fine each Christian two shillings for the right to remain fully clothed during the rituals. The Christians, after impassioned deliberation of their own, submitted to this condition. They did so, however, with such obvious anger and bitterness that any feelings of unity that might have emerged from the rituals were entirely lost.^[28]

From Half Njuri To Full Accord

A year went by without further development on either side. Each regional Njuri continued to meet without further efforts to induct Christians or even call upon those already inducted to attend gatherings. Similarly, neither Hopkins nor Irvine urged their inductees to attend.

By early 1940, Lambert—newly reappointed as Meru district commissioner—was appalled by the lack of progress. On inquiry he decided that a misunderstanding had arisen on both sides. In fact the Njuri

elders of Imenti, offended by Christian behavior during the original initiation, appear to have reinterpreted their original agreement with McKeag. They now informed Lambert they had never been willing to admit Christians into full membership, because the converts were unwilling to undergo the traditional rites—a reference to the incident of clothing and two shillings. Rather, those already accepted were allowed to attend occasional deliberations as spokesmen for topics in which they had particular interest.

Even this limited attendance, the elders declared, would be allowed only if Christian members proved willing to swear, on the Bible, secrecy regarding Njuri decisions. In exchange Christians so bound would agree never to demand further changes in the initiation process or to refuse in the future to take part. Finally, no Christian who accepted these conditions could claim to be a full Njuri member. Rather, they should consider themselves nuthu Njuri (half Njuri) or Njuri ya Mabuku (Njuri of the book).

Both mission heads seem initially to have accepted this reinterpretation without comment. Lambert, however, was not content to let the issue rest. Neither he nor McKeag had intended Christian participants to play restricted roles but had hoped that they could actively reintegrate themselves into the mainstream of tribal life. Deprived of Njuri membership, both men felt Christians would remain upon the Meru fringes. Worse, they might form tiny subtribes of their own, with British missionaries taking on the role of chiefs. Such a development, they felt, would both hasten the disintegration of Meru society and deprive it of the progressive leavening it needed to evolve. Once integrated into the system, however, Christians could become a catalyzing force, guiding the anglicization and Christianization of the indigenous institution and through it the communal life of the entire tribe.^[29]

It was thus necessary for Lambert to begin a second series of negotiations, moving between the two Protestant ministers and members of both regional Njuris. As expected, the most explicit objections came from African converts at the Church of Scotland's "Kirk Session," a meeting of that mission's elders under the guidance of Irvine. As later summarized in mission correspondence, the elders noted that the Njuri was "pagan, . . . [with] its ceremonies based on pagan symbols, its halls littered with elements of spirit worship," and "secret, . . . [since] its secrecy is its strength. Leave its secrecy intact and there is the . . . danger of a subversive movement, unknown to government, with chiefs, headmen, government employees, and all but a few Christians sworn to se-

crecy." The assembled elders emphasized "the utter incompatibility of the animist following his ancient worship and customs and the African Christian," and finally proposed "that the system followed in the more advanced Kikuyu country should be adopted, [to include] Local [Native] Councils representing all services [missions] active in the country. The district officer would be chairman. This would be open, safe, acceptable to Christian and progressive opinion as well as to the less privileged."^[30]

In the face of this intense opposition, Lambert was initially baffled over how to proceed. In late March 1940 he began discussions with Hopkins, whose Methodist converts, he believed, would prove most receptive to a new agreement. He also met with Irvine, seeking areas where both the Njuris and the Presbyterians could compromise.

On reflection he asked Hopkins's permission to send Filipo M'Inoti to speak personally with the Church of Scotland elders, meeting in Kirk Session, to explore their points of disagreement. M'Inoti was perfect for the task. By 1940 he had been ordained as the first Meru minister in Imenti, thereby clearly demonstrating his mastery of Christian teachings. Beyond that he had become deeply versed in Njuri tradition, so that he proved able to suggest compromises satisfactory to both sides.

M'Inoti met with the Church of Scotland elders at a Kirk Session that lasted most of a day. Sharing common language, heritage, and religion, they were able to explore the issues more fully than had proved possible when with the whites and thus agree on several compromises. At the same time, Lambert reached essentially similar agreements with Hopkins and the Methodist mission elders. Irvine, faced with such unanimity, gave way with unexpected grace, consenting to limited participation of his elders in what became known simply as "The Agreement." The first part of the agreement excused any Christian candidate wishing to enter a regional Njuri from prior membership in his local Kiama, in the same manner initially suggested by McKeag. The second required the initiation of Christians to take place in the traditional ("pagan") manner, with due allowance for their desire to remain clothed. The third dictated that whenever Christians entered an Njuri initiation hut that "pagan symbols would be covered or otherwise rendered invisible." The fourth required, as before, that every Christian oath be sworn on the Bible.^[31]

The fifth requirement, however, contained the core of the entire agreement. It dealt with the transmission of Njuri teachings ("secrets") to new initiates. In essence the Njuri agreed that nothing could be

taught until first approved by M'Inoti, who as both a Christian minister and Njuri "elder" reserved the right to reword the teachings to render them consistent with Christian principles.^[32]

It is doubtful if any agreement would have been reached without the continuous mediation of the Reverend Filipo M'Inoti. Among the earliest of Meru's Christian converts, and the one who had climbed highest in their ranks, he held the respect of black and white, Methodist and Presbyterian, missionary and administrator alike. Rarely do agreements emerge through the conciliatory efforts of one man, yet it was M'Inoti's assurances that provided sufficient confidence to bind all sides. Soon after, Irvine sent the first of his Kirk Session elders, Jotham M'Murianki, to an Njuri for initiation. To ensure a smooth transition, the rites were led by M'Inoti himself. M'Murianki then became the recognized initiation leader for all future candidates from the Church of Scotland Mission. For Protestants the problem was resolved.

District attention then turned to the Roman Catholic Mission. By 1940 the Consolata fathers had far outstripped their Protestant competitors, having established no less than seven major mission stations and twenty-two bush schools and dispensaries in every part of the district where their presence was allowed. The Catholics operated, however, in semi-isolation, intensified by their inability to speak either English or Swahili. Their policy was to withdraw both mission fathers and their converts from contact with traditional and colonial authorities.

At Lambert's insistence, Father Guadagnini, the educational secretary for the Consolata, consented to meet with Njuri elders to explore the issue. The discussions, however, were interrupted by the outbreak of World War II and thus the beginning of hostilities between England and Italy. Within days every Italian in Meru had been imprisoned, leaving the entire Catholic mission chain bereft of European direction. The gap was partially filled by Catholic priests from allied nations, who assumed control of peoples of whose culture they knew nothing.

The results shook the confidence of Catholic elders throughout the district, briefly destroying the trust that Lambert had striven to build. The Cuka Catholic mission was taken over by two priests from Holland. Within weeks after their arrival they proclaimed a "total ban on the African religion of Njuri." All Catholics were prohibited entry into this "religion," and those who joined faced excommunication. Catholic teachers were authorized to drive out any Njuri members who appeared, while chiefs and elders were forbidden to force converts to join.

The proclamation was issued in a circular letter addressed to teachers within every Catholic school in Meru. By coincidence a copy reached Lambert as well. Enraged, the district commissioner left immediately for Cuka, to "teach this self-appointed Pope the error of his ways."^[33] He arrived too late. Having issued their proclamation, the Dutch priests had moved on, completely unaware of the damage such an edict could have caused the still fragile alliance between traditional and colonial rule.

Njuri Versus Gikuyu: The Meru Golden Age

For a while the alliance deepened and thrived. Lambert quickly countermanded the Dutch priests' proclamation, visiting each Catholic mission in the district to explain it had been written by mistake. He then began negotiations with Catholic missions in Imenti—now directed by an Irish priest—for admission of their converts to the Njuri. The priest posed no objection, and a small number of Catholic converts entered the Njuri in January 1941.

In later years both Lambert and McKeag took great satisfaction in the completion of their alliance. Symbolically, the entry of Meru's powerful Catholics into the "pagan" institution of Njuri marked the culmination of a dream shared by "nativist" administrators across Kenya: a colonial golden age in which indigenous and British institutions would join hands, working together to implement decisions made to benefit the entire tribe.

To a degree and for more than a decade the dream did flicker into life, as a revived and newly confident system of regional Njuris joined British administrators to protect the tribe against potential enemies. Perhaps the most striking example of the councils' vigor during this period can be found in their struggle against the threat posed to Meru by its traditional enemy, the Gikuyu.

The Gikuyu inhabit nearly seventy percent of Mount Kenya, neighboring Meru to both its west and south. Their system of land tenure, initially communal, had moved closer to that of England as individual ownership became increasingly widespread. In Meru, Gikuyu land-holders were known as "tree eaters" because of their propensity to clear land of all tree cover prior to cultivation. In contrast the Meru held all trees in common, except those planted by individuals, and cutting down a tree required communal permission from an appropriate local Kiama.

British officers and Meru elders thus shared a common concern when, during the late 1930s, small bands of Gikuyu moved into the border region between the star-grass (populated) and "black" (montaine) forest zones and began to farm. Beginning in Cuka these settlements multiplied steadily, fed by a continuous trickle of new immigrants, and gradually expanded north into Muthambi and Mwimbi.

Many of the new arrivals were adopted, in traditional fashion, into existing Meru clans, accepting the use of land from local Kiama elders in exchange for gifts of livestock. Others, however, refused any type of cultural integration, creating a series of minisettlements, organized agriculturally and socially wholly along Gikuyu lines. The resulting destruction of the trees threatened to extend along the entire forest rim. Before the conquest the Meru would have responded to this devastation with warriors. During the 1930s they accepted payments of livestock and shillings from a people who seemed to have both in abundance.

In 1941 one of the more aggressive of these settlements appeared along the lower boundaries of the Ngaia forest in Igembe. Its appearance shocked district administrators and Njuri elders alike, for it was the first time Gikuyu had dared to penetrate the Meru north. Igembe elders initially approached the settlers with offers of adoption into their respective clans, a decision that would have placed them both within tradition and under control. They were contemptuously spurned.

The elder's anxiety deepened when members of the Ngaia settlement began to cultivate the very land that the Njuri Nceke had set aside as a protected zone. In Meru strips of land immediately beneath the lower forest rim had traditionally been protected, by Njuri proclamation, from cultivation, wood cutting, grazing, or any other activity that might harm trees. The result was the creation of an unmarked but universally respected buffer zone between human activities and the forest.

It was this zone, no doubt still highly fertile, that the Gikuyu chose to farm. In January 1940 a delegation of Njuri elders ordered them to leave. The Gikuyu refused. The Njuri Nceke then appealed to the district commissioner. In February 1940, Lambert personally visited the settlement, heard claims from both sides, then ordered the Gikuyu to depart within twenty days.

Initially they agreed. During the subsequent weeks, however, they worked day and night to plant every inch of the buffer zone with millet. In so doing, they followed both Gikuyu and Meru tradition, establishing the right to remain ("by their seed") on the disputed land until the harvest.

Had the incident occurred during the 1800s the Njuri Nceke would have sent warriors to expel the intruders at the moment they appeared. Had they come in the 1920s it would have done nothing, stripped of its powers and officially banned. Its decision in the fall of 1940 illustrates the degree to which the institution had recovered both its traditional authority and self-respect.

In October 1940 Njuri elders appeared in scores along the entire length of the Gikuyu fields. Singing, dancing, and waving tufts of grass as the traditional sign that they came in peace, the elders reaped the entire crop. Furious, the Gikuyu appealed en masse to the district commissioner. Completely aware of the symbolism behind the Njuri actions, Lambert dismissed their suit and expelled them from the district.^[34] This became a symbolic act in itself, setting a precedent of which every elder soon became aware: if the Njuri reaped what aliens had sown, the government would support them.

For Lambert the incident must have proved a quiet triumph, a moment marking the culmination of his work, McKeag's, and perhaps Hopkins's before him: the restoration of the dignity of indigenous authority so that it could once more take up its work, then stand side by side with England to administer the tribe. The fragile alliance, colonial and Meru, had come to life. Ruling elders from the missions, regional Njuris, and district headquarters were in accord. To Lambert, it must indeed have seemed the dawn of a golden age.

If so, the new era would be brief. The sense of compromise that now joined the senior age-sets did not include the young. Even as Lambert sought to draw mission converts into the tribal mainstream, others were leaving the missions, thereby drawing beyond his reach. In the years to come, young men from Mwimbi and Muthambi, deeply influenced by the spirit of revolt among the Gikuyu, would form "independent" churches at the Meru social fringes. Their goal was less to worship than to use the pulpit as a zone of safety from which to preach against both England and the African past. Still later, they would form "independent" schools, devoid of mission teachings, where children could be taught to strive for freedom.

In time the independent churchmen, teachers, and pupils alike would find themselves increasingly involved in political actions as the oaths and promises of Gikuyu politicians drummed ever more loudly across the land. Some would respond by forming patriotic groups, such as the "Meru Helping Country Association" of 1950, which swore loyalty to England while hoping to escape it.^[35] Finally, the peoples of Mount

Kenya would revolt, and the men of Meru—driven apart by what would become a Gikuyu civil war—would fight on both sides, their tribal unity destroyed.

All this, however, lay in the future. In 1940, with much of the world approaching war, the leading men of Meru—pagan and Christian, English and African, Njuri elder and colonial chief—all marched as one. For the next ten years the Njuri system would dominate much of Meru's political arena, together with an African colonial service with which it would increasingly share a loyalty to England. Most mainstream Meru would remain content. Only on the fringes, as had been the case throughout Meru history, would the new ways emerge. This time, however, the new generation of fringemen would win Meru its freedom.