Faith,Work,Farming and Business: The Role of the Spiritual in West African Livelihoods

Introduction

Writing about ‘land grabbing’ in Sierra Leone, Ibreck (2016) observed how local people describe their land as having a spiritual value. In addition to being a material asset land is associated with community, identity and heritage: it is accorded profound and historical meanings with a strong sense of anteriority and posteriority. Trees are important too: not only do they provide food and construction materials which may have a commercial value, they are also symbols and signs that embody supernatural forces and provide the sites of shrines and rites de passages. Furthermore, the clearing of land for either periodic or permanent cultivation may become a performative act imbued with historical and supernatural significance. Rights to land, trees and forests are complex and ambiguous, especially for outsiders. Yet local voices either are not heard or misunderstood when a majority of rural people are confronted by the power of the state, international capital and vested local interests. So, if any understanding of the nature of rural livelihoods is to be achieved, then it is necessary to consider how the larger structural forces of the state and international capital are refracted and contested through local prisms of environment, history, culture and society, where religion and spirituality may be of particular significance.

The study of rural livelihoods and agrarian change rapidly developed from the 1980s onwards, together with explorations of what became known as the informal economy. An overview and assessment of rural livelihoods have been provided by Scoones (2015), who concluded that there is a need for a new political economy of livelihoods and agrarian change. Not just a case of production, but also matters of consumption and distribution; not just who does what in particular places, but also who controls access to resources and opportunities. And, what the structural, contextual and historical drivers might be that shape and constrain livelihood opportunities. The contention of this paper is that material conditions are not sufficient: spirituality and religion matter too as they are a necessary part of an understanding of how livelihoods are constructed, maintained and changed, as well as how they shape social structures that underpin power and authority. The spiritual and the spiritual imagination pervade all aspects of rural society; evident in matters of identity, the organization of settlements, interventions in the natural world through collecting and cultivating and the access and allocation of resources. Also, how people cope with the environmental and socio-economic vicissitudes of everyday life.

But does the spiritual only apply to rural societies? While urban production and consumption may constitute different technologies, goods and markets, they too are influenced by a diversity of religious values and practices. Moreover, the distinction between urban and rural livelihoods is not easily defined, as many rural African households depend either permanently or periodically on non-farm urban incomes, while many urbanites support their villages of origin where they have rights to land. Furthermore, historically many large cities have allegiant populations in the surrounding rural areas. Certainly, in both town and countryside clerics and spiritual leaders of all kinds occupy positions of authority and power that may influence livelihoods and lifestyles, while religion may be a crucial arena for playing out political conflicts.

Supernatural beliefs and practices may be peripheral for those accustomed to Western value systems and the formal disciplines of economics and science, as well an acceptance that with the advance of science and secularism they will wither away. Yet spirituality and religion in West Africa appear to be remarkably persistent and capable of continuous adaptation to changing social and economic circumstances. Moreover, the espousal of the religious and supernatural reaches beyond the rural peasant, embracing those who are considered urban and urbane such as businessmen, traders and politicians. Africa has been characterized as a continent of local religions and the occult, however historically this is rather wide of the mark. From 9th century onwards Islam spread from North Africa into the West African savannas to become associated with the establishment of a series of states together with trading networks and industries. If Islam came from the north, then Christianity came from the south and west, especially associated with the arrival of European traders, missionaries and colonial rule. The effect of the missions has been profound, especially through the spread of Western values and literacy.

The following account is an eclectic review of a variety of literary sources from different disciplines over an extended time period, as well as personal experience and past field research. ¹ Firstly, there is a review of how the spiritual espoused by local religions is an integral part of the rural livelihoods of bush collectors and cultivators and their understanding of the natural world, while also acknowledging changes over time through the advent of commercialization, new religions and external political forces. Secondly, attention is turned towards the role of both Islam and Pentecostal Christianity in influencing the livelihoods of farmers and small businessmen. Thirdly, and more speculatively, the question of the spiritual and religion in terms of modernity and development in West Africa, and to what extent religion is a driver or inhibitor of social and economic change. Finally, and conversely there is the question of the absence of livelihood opportunities within West African states, and how this engenders dissatisfaction and dissent, especially among the young that results in violence, where religion becomes an integral part of that dissent. And, this dissatisfaction arises from the power and constraints of elders, as well as patrimonialism and clientelism embodied in the state at large.

Forest dwellers: collectors and cultivators

Forests provide a rich array of plants and animals that offer a diversity of opportunities for their denizens, but trees ‘hang heavy with power’: they constitute signs and symbols of supernatural forces. Consequently, when people intervene in the natural world to facilitate production and consumption, they do so within particular spiritual environments articulated through local religions that legitimize and shape their efforts. Writing about the Asante, McCaskie (2000) explains how trees are associated with a supernatural power that is suffused throughout the natural universe; they cannot be possessed by people, who indeed need cultural technologies to access this supernatural power. Thus, Asante culture was won from nature in a battle to establish and maintain crop agriculture within an inimical forest environment. But this is a fragile achievement in the face of an anarchic supernatural fecundity where farm clearings culturally hold the forest in check: the forest may be regarded a place of ambiguity and mystery and is only temporally kept at bay. But the forest environment does not stand still; it is part of a historical process that is continuously contested and modified. McCaskie (2000) notes that contemporary policy makers and managers of West African forests might gain greater insights into their tasks if they considered the historical understandings accumulated by indigenous inhabitants.

People may ascribe a capricious agency to their environment which they interpret and negotiate and regard themselves as inseparably part of it. Barber (2000) views forests, people, animals, farmland and settlements as inhabiting a single continuous unfolding process, while in many West African belief systems human beings are ontologically implicated in the natural world. Recently, more attention has been paid to how spiritual ontologies have been ignored or marginalized in post development discourse, although it has notably advocated community participation and indigenous knowledge (Smith et al., 2017). Possibly this is because of the ambiguities that arise where peoples’ ideas about land, forest and water are not compartmentalized modules, but components in a highly complex metaphysical and philosophical interpretation of the world. Such beliefs have created landscapes of the spiritual imagination. But in all social situations there is a struggle to manage and implement relations between men and non-human agency: there is the issue of power evidenced in the control of resources and people, while importantly this power may reside in the spiritual where the role of intermediaries demands a priestly caste.

The concept that material and cosmic worlds are inseparable where each informs the other has given rise to the term eco-cosmologies: the environment speaks to people and they speak back (Croll and Parkin, 1992). These kind of world views and modes of thinking contrast quite strongly with European dualistic ones of Humankind and Nature, and the concept of the dominion of Nature rooted in Judao-Christianity and Post-Enlightenment science. The exact sciences attempt to measure nature and produce universally accepted taxonomies, whereas farmers experience it within their particular local understandings of their environment which is part of their spiritual world. On the other hand, sophisticated Westerners enjoy Nature as part of their lifestyles and leisure time. Also, notions of what work is and what it means are different too. For many rural farming communities, the understanding of work differs considerably from those in urban salaried employment, where activity is intensively organized, timed and controlled by a social hierarchy of employers, institutions or state officials. For farmers patterns of work are seasonal with pulses of activity, while clearing and planting and the many everyday household tasks such as craft work and collecting produce are vital activities with fluid boundaries. Work is a bricolage of tasks that vary according to fluctuating circumstances and conditions, such as weather, age, sickness or market prices.

The historic core of farming in the West African forest and bush is the rotational bush fallowing system, where land is cleared by felling and firing trees and used for some two years and then rested as new farms are opened elsewhere. This represents a significant incursion into a spiritual realm where trees are removed for the wet season cultivation of upland rice, cassava and yams. On the other hand, in the dry season the collection of bush products occurs, which may provide a significant amount of household income, as well as supplementing food crops when harvests are poor. However, over the past 70 years a shift towards wetland valley rice has occurred, as well as the continued integration of cash crops, notably cocoa and coffee representing a move towards more permanent cultivation.

The opposition of the forest and places for living and working appears in many African societies. Among the Jola of Senegambia the forest is held within an ambivalent compound of fear and respect, yet the forest is ultimately a positive part of their culture (Madge, 2000). The forest may be one of malign spirits but is also a guarantor of survival and a social order. Additionally, the earth is sacred: divine energy is to be found in rocks and groves which allow access to ancestral spirits and places where rites de passage occur. Because the forest comprises ‘good trees’ and ‘evil trees’ – for example ‘evil trees’ are associated with witches, devils and spirits, the collecting of forest products is circumscribed and has a distinctly spatial and gendered character. Moreover, ‘evil areas’ can only be entered by specialists such as herbalists and hunters. Fuelwood is not usually obtained from food trees, while bush clearings for farms leave certain trees intact, especially those providing food and medicine. The taboos on ‘good’ and ‘evil trees’, as well as the demarcation of sacred groves arguably have contributed to forest preservation, while taboos on the number of animals slaughtered and proscribed seasons have regulated the activities of hunters.

As Madge (1995) has demonstrated the collection of forest products, including fruits and leaves for condiments and sauces, medicines and insecticides, as well as wood for fuel and constructional purposes are all important elements in both subsistence and exchange, while there is a symbolic and cultural value attached to forest products that is integral to Jola identity. About one third of household incomes derive from the sale of commercial collected products, which are a complement to wet season agriculture and are especially important to women. But tensions and conflicts within Jola communities may arise too. An interesting case study by Madge (1995) indicated how trees can be a medium of control and authority within family and community. A young man (20 years old) started an orchard project growing mangos, oranges and several indigenous tree species as a long-term income project. However, his mother demanded that he removed all indigenous species.

Three overlapping reasons underlaid this confrontation. First, practical reasons as some indigenous species are medicinal and might be harmful to children and animals. Secondly, it was considered bad luck for a man under 35 years to plant trees. This reason was socio-political and reflected differences (and dissatisfaction) between young and old, as power was invested in elders whose social control included their ability to control the commercial revenue from trees. But thirdly the Jola do not see themselves as ‘masters’ of the forest who can replenish it; thus, to plant wild species was to act as God. Moreover, wild trees are considered to be publicly owned. This was a complex situation, but essentially this was a young man challenging Jola beliefs concerning trees and ancestors, as well as undermining the custodial role of ancestors and property rights and their use. This issue of allocation and control over resources in patrimonial societies has become of increasing importance in many communities.

In addition to collecting produce the Jola also cultivate bush farms for staples such as maize, millet and cassava, together with groundnuts as a cash crop and importantly upland – and now increasingly swamp rice. The role of rituals in the farming practices of the Jola in Senegalese Casamance have notably been extensively analysed by Linares (1992) in her book Power, Prayer and Production, an assertion that the productive and the ideological are deeply connected. Resources essential to farming, especially rice are allocated and controlled by the elders – men and women who control spirit shrines. Traditionally the keepers of the shrines have exercised their authority through them over the allocation of land and labour, and have provided a medium through which group interests are realized and socially balanced. While there may be individuation of rice farms and plots, few farming households can summon enough domestic labour at crucial points in the cultivation cycle, so they need the assistance of work groups organized via specific shrines. Shrines are controlled by women too, who are important in rice production and they can mobilize workers especially at harvest time; additionally, they also control mystical forces associated with the present and future, as well as health, child rearing and fertility.

Linares contends that human life involves cultural symbols and ideologies through which people perceive their environment and organize themselves to act on it. And, these are as much part of the forces of production as are tools and ‘know how’. Work itself is socially meaningful, and as much a part of one’s duty to maintaining communal life as economic necessity. Shrines act as a balancing mechanism among competing groups, that conspicuously override age, gender and status in facilitating flows of labour and access to land, that protects the weak and elderly. Unlike some societies labour does not automatically flow upwards from the young towards elders, because elders depend on them and require their respect for the power and maintenance of the shrines.

But customary practices have undergone continuous change. Significant change within Jola society began with development of the groundnut trade along the lower reaches of the Gambia river and in Senegalese Casamance, together with the rise of Banjul as a trading centre. The groundnut trade started a period of increased capitalist penetration, with more trade goods, new economic opportunities that accelerated in the early 20th century, while colonial rule brought new monetary systems and new forms of taxation (Swindell and Jeng, 2006), Colonial rule in French Senegal initially enhanced the position of the Christian churches, but as the French authorities were keen to encourage the groundnut trade they were particularly well disposed to the Mandinka, who were the largest ethnic group with a long history of trade and were essentially Muslim. Islam has been important in the process of change for the Jola as it has re-combined power, labour and production through changes in religious ideology. And, as discussed later the groundnut trade in Senegal historically has been linked to the Islamic Mouride brotherhood. Yet while Islam has progressed among the Jola accompanied by what Linares (1992) has described as ‘Mandingization’ their traditional values and forms have not been entirely extinguished and are still evident. However, Linares makes the point that cultural patterns and historical transformations are a result of not just of the penetration of capitalist market forces, but, also, they result from the often-contradictory ways in which ideological processes have been used to negotiate between old practices and new economic opportunities. And, by far the most important ideological process at work among many rural people in Africa is religion, where phenomena have a sacred or supra empirical quality.

Many rural communities have undergone significant social and economic change: through the slave trade, colonial rule, post-colonial statehood, the introduction of new crops, new religions and ideologies. The effects of these changes have been patchy socially and spatially, often reflecting uncertainties and ambiguities about collective and individual livelihoods and identities. These issues have been explored in work by Van de Grijspaarde et al. (2013) extending across 182 villages and 2433 households among the Gola in eastern Sierra Leone. The villages selected are located along the forest edge, characterized by rice and tree-crop agriculture, the Mende language and Gola cultural and institutional backgrounds. The research comprised a quantitative survey of the current role of witchcraft, evidenced through three dependent variables: concerns, conflicts and witch finders. Contrary to what might be expected there was little correlation with the aftermath of the civil war (1991–2002) nor exogenous factors such as climate and bad harvests and poor prices. But, importantly, it emerged that the existence of witchcraft concerns, conflicts and witch finders varied across villages due to institutional factors. For example, communities were less affected by witchcraft and the presence of witch finders where there was a cohesion of traditional values, or where modernity was firmly established. On the other hand, witchcraft flourished with many witch finders in communities with unresolved social conflicts over norms of agrarian governance, new crops and where there was a clash of livelihood systems.

In the study villages there were differences in the occurrence of witchcraft between those that cultivated upland dry rice with tree crops (cocoa and coffee), and those experiencing the expansion of swamp rice in the valleys. Trees are planted by heads of households around villages within the traditional upland rice cultivation system, where land is vested in lineage elders. Here they have clear rights to land and labour and witchcraft was not an issue. Swamp rice, especially new varieties that tended to be for sale were cultivated on land held by clans traditionally used for collecting construction materials. Swamp-rice farming also attracts women, young men and strangers who ‘beg’ swampland from the relevant holders. The situation of these farmers was one of uncertainty as to the respective rights of land users, landowners and land holders and whether the investment of their labour was worthwhile. It was here that witchcraft and witch finding were more prevalent. Witches were a problem where farmers and households were ‘caught in the middle’ of social and economic change and the Gola forest research concluded that there is a need for clarity when introducing changes, such as better land titling and secure rental agreements. One conclusion of this study was that witch finders who were hired by villagers to resolve and negate the influence of evil spirits were, up to a point, effective mediators between those involved in disputes. Therefore, could the success rate of witch finders be boosted and put to other uses, for example when developmental interventions occur? Certainly, this possibility should not be ignored. In general, the Gola forest research suggested that the institutional dynamics of African development might profitably receive more attention, including the role of ‘cultural brokerage’.

The presence of witches and witchcraft is widespread across Africa affecting politics, economic development and poverty alleviation; and it is not just a rural phenomenon. The Gola forest survey in Sierra Leone suggests that the supernatural may still act as a powerful social force, while on the other hand, as discussed earlier, local religions are in retreat or adaptation in the face of Islam and Christianity. However, as the following shows West Africans have their own local and regional versions of the major monotheistic world religions, that accepts that spiritual and supernatural powers for good and evil are at play in all walks of life and in all places; a presence that requires intermediaries, especially charismatic ones. Islam in West Africa has been greatly influenced by Sufism that is speculative and embraces the occult (Trimingham, 1971), while the recent emergence of the Pentecostal church is one that wages spiritual war against a pantheon of evil spirits blocking the path to a better life and success in the here and now. What follows is an eclectic look at how Islam and Christianity in West Africa have influenced livelihoods and lifestyles, both on and off the farm.

Islamic farmers of the savannas: Northern Nigeria

While the majority of West African Muslims are Sunni there are demonstrable variations in practice and belief evidenced by the establishment of Islamic brotherhoods. The brotherhoods are defined by their tariqa – a path of belief, and for many in West Africa belonging to a brotherhood is what defines them as being Muslim. (Trimingham, 1971) The two most important ‘paths’ are the Tijanyia and the Quadiriyya: the former developed in the 18th century originating in the Senegal river basin, which has gradually spread eastwards, while the latter reaches back to the 11th century and is historically important in northern Nigeria and Niger. The Tijanyia and Quadiriyya are part of mainstream Sunni Islam, but both have adopted Sufist beliefs and practices. The practice of Sufism that emerged in the 10th century embraces theological speculation and inquiry, as well as revelation through mystical experiences, the occult, the reverence of saints and their tombs (Trimingham, 1971).

Northern Nigeria is part of the zone where the major empires of the Sudan-Sahel developed from the 9th century onward, and where major cities emerged as centres of political power that contained large retail and commercial markets, as well manufacturing industries; for example, Kano and Sokoto. Indeed, Sokoto and its caliphate grew out of the last great jihad in the early 19th century, and its importance lies as the sultan being the acknowledged leader of northern Islam that embraces primarily the Hausa and Fulani peoples. All religions and faiths, local and international demand leaders, as well as a group or class of individuals who act as intermediaries between the supernatural and the human. Within Muslim Hausa-Fulani communities the most pervasive and influential of these is the teacher and Islamic scholar known as malam.

Malams occupy an important role in Hausa Muslim communities, both rural and urban. They are consulted about life-cycle events, such as naming ceremonies, marriage and burials, while they advise on propitious moments on which to travel for those setting out on business or social meetings, and they advise on seeking work. Importantly they run Qur’anic schools where 4–5 year olds are initiated into the faith and the community. Unlike Christian pastors and priests they are not part of an accepted hierarchy or certification process, consequently they have considerable autonomy: success is measured by their charisma, the number of students they attract who wish to study to become a malam, as well as their particular depth of knowledge and understanding of the Qur’an, Hadith and Sharia. A successful malam’s students include both beginners and more advanced pupils (almajirai and gardi) that provide him with the alms they collect, as well as a free workforce for his often-substantial farms. Other occupations for malams include factory work, grain dealing and acting as land agents.

Over the centuries Islam has made a significant contribution to universal knowledge in mathematics, astronomy and geography. And, life for the faithful still is structured by the lunar calendar, religious festivals and the five daily prayer times (Lubeck, 1988). For farmers of the Savanna and Sahel in West Africa crucial times occur around the beginning of the short rainy season with the northward drift of the summer monsoon. For the Hausa-Fulani of northern western and central Nigeria who cultivate upland farms of millet and guinea corn, it is the mobilization and timing of inputs, especially labour before and during the rains that matters (Mortimore and Adams, 1999). Upland grain and cassava farming are basically a rain-fed intensive agricultural system, and it is essential that farmers are in a state of readiness, having their land prepared and labour ready for the first sowing of the basic foodstuff millet. Such preparations – or lack of them – significantly affect harvests along with the timing of successive weedings.

Along with farmers who can ‘read’ clouds and a variety vegetation phenomena, there are agricultural star calendars operated by local malams known as malaman tsibbu (Swindell and Iliya, 2012). ² The calendars (written in Arabic) note the appearance of an agricultural marker star within successive 14-day periods throughout the year. The marker stars are used to denote the beginning of the rainy season, times to sow and weed for a range of named crops. These are generalized calendars for the Sudan-Sahel environment, which can be adjusted locally for latitude, where local sightings of the marker stars accommodate the northward advance of the summer within specific environments. It is the malaman tsibbu who adjust the calendars using their astronomical and environmental knowledge to suit the various crops grown at given latitudes, as well local soil and morphological conditions.

Despite modernization and better communications these calendars have not disappeared from use, although they are less prevalent. They are not used in the expectation they will identify specific events such as the precise beginning of the rains, but rather they provide a template capable of local adjustment that alerts farmers and initiates states of readiness. And, if for example the rains are late and out of phase with a star sighting this is a means of signalling procedures such as the necessity of re-sowing early millet. Repeated lateness of rainfall events, due to perceived changes over an extended period can also be written-in, and calendars adjusted. Importantly, these calendars and the associated learning of the malaman tsibbu have a legitimacy and resonance because they are embedded in the totality that is Islam: they are consonant with the contemplation of Sun, Moon and stars plants, animals and spirits that are part of Allah’s creation, the interpretation of which lies with scholars and leaders.

The expertise of the malaman tsibbu in the construction and operation of agricultural star calendars also extends into matters of farming in general, animal rearing, domestic matters of health, sexual problems and husband–wife relationships, and the dispensing of herbal remedies. Last (1988) has drawn attention to the theory of Islamic medicine in northern Nigeria where each ecological or cultural zone has its own diseases and cures; thus, farmers need farmer medicines, while pastoralists (the Fulbe) have their own specifics. But while medicines (possibly pagan in origin) in the remoter rural regions are one thing, the towns have their own practices and specifics. In Kano these practices commonly include drinking of Qur’anic texts washed from prayer boards (rubutu), as well as amulets that contain texts (laye). Such medicines may be used for particular events such as journeys or a school examination, getting a job, succeeding in business, the professions and politics. Islamic scholarship is about service and power, and the ‘technology of power’ and the means to access power through prayers, rituals, visiting saints’ tombs and the guidance of malams. Thus, successful malams achieve their charisma through the science of fusing the ingredients of power and are the focus of what Last (1988) has termed ‘the prayer economy’.

Within Sokoto city and its the rural periphery as well as malaman tsibbu there are malaman duba. The latter are those who advise clients on how to achieve future success in their work and lifestyles, and who provide medicine that gives protection against bad luck and misfortune, as well as giving clients social and economic confidence (Swindell and Iliya, 2012). Malaman duba develop a clientele for whom they prescribe a programme of rituals that may involve astral observations linked to a range of personal criteria. In the Sokoto rural periphery the malaman duba are visited by wealthy urban clients and traders who wish to retain anonymity and frequently visit by taxis at night. The prices of consultations are high, and malaman duba have become not only prosperous but men of power and influence within their communities.

However, while interest in agricultural star calendars among farmers has diminished there has been a strong surge in consultations with malaman duba. It is now generally recognized that rural households seek employment in a variety of non-farm jobs in the informal and formal sectors, and that these have become increasingly important. Such income generating strategies have become essential in some case for survival, while for others as means of improving their farms through the accumulation of capital. (Iliya and Swindell, 1997). The recourse to consultations with malaman duba has increased, possibly as the Nigerian economy has become more erratic, when rural people are experiencing difficult times through variable producer prices and a deteriorating economic and physical climate. The urge for success is strong too: to get a more secure job and one that pays a regular daily or monthly wage, especially in the government or public sector. And, while patronage, political connection and bribery are important there is a widespread belief that consultations with malaman duba are also necessary.

Malams are a pervasive influence throughout Northern Nigeria, evident in rural and urban areas in a range of employment and livelihood situations. Their influence is apparent as Qur’anic teachers and spiritual advisers for both rich and poor trying to access better lives physically and economically. The malams thrive upon real or imagined uncertainty in people’s lives: their access to education, good harvests, success in business and trading, as well as a safe passage to and from home; the latter being not unreasonable given the number of road fatalities. In essence it is about finding propitious moments. The success of the malams rests on their charisma and learning, and their fame may spread across regional and national boundaries. Another set of charismatic teachers and leaders is to be found in the Mouride brotherhood of Senegal, who have attracted a good deal of attention because of their work ethic and political influence.

The Mourides of Senegal

Islam in Senegal is notable for its brotherhoods, of which there are four: the Tijanes, the Quadiris, the Mourides and its subgroup Baye Fall, and the Layennes, with the Tijanes having a slightly larger following than the Mourides (Gifford, 2016). In 1883 the Mouride brotherhood was founded by Ahmadu Bamba Mbacke which represented a departure from the more ascetic and elitist tariqa of the Tijanyyia, although both are influenced by Sufism. Importantly the Mourides embraced the organization of worldly as well as spiritual affairs, and Ahmadu Bamba Mbacke and his immediate followers were proclaimed saints and prophets having received the gift of grace (baraka), often through miraculous experiences (Behrman, 1970; Copans, 1980; Cruise O’Brien, 1971). The Mouride leaders the marabouts (shaikhs) thereby assumed a charismatic persona that attracted a host of followers (talibs), and the movement became centred on the new holy city at Touba where Ahmadu Bamba assumed the title of Kahlifa-General, a title that has been passed on to his descendants. Likewise, marabouts comprise a hereditary class. At its inception this activist brotherhood stressed the value of farming and commerce through the promotion of a work ethic that had a fundamental devotional value. The Mouride tariqa is organized around grassroots associations, da’iras led by marabouts who have a claim to baraka that endows them with prophecy, sainthood and learning sanctioned by the ultimate leadership of the Khalifa-General. An estimated 30% of the Senegal population are Mourides, and the brotherhood is particularly strong among the Wolof in whose region it was founded.

At first, the Mourides became influential in rural areas and the development of the Senegalese groundnut economy, where talibs were committed to prayer and hard labour for a decade in the fields of their marabout, during which time they returned to him all profits from their groundnuts. After 10 years a talib received land, but still returned a tithe to his leader. Under this system, with its’ cheap and virtually captive labour force, the marabouts have built up extensive farms, especially in the Baol and Kayor regions that became the groundnut basin. The Mourides have been interested in innovation too, for example ox ploughing, while they colonized the remoter and more arid areas of Senegal. In the 1970s estimates suggested that the Mourides produced approximately one third to one half of the groundnut crop. However, times have changed: production across Senegal has fallen with the decline in world groundnut prices, as well as problems of increased aridity and the state’s over-taxation of groundnuts. As a result of changing circumstances rural-urban migration has increased throughout Senegal, where significant numbers have come from the Mouride regions. But what is interesting is the manner in which Mouridism has adapted to a changing economic environment and has become a significant part of Senegal’s urban commercial economy.

The drift of Mourides towards non-agricultural work began in the 1930s, notably along the new Dakar–Bamako railway line, but by the 1960s Dakar had become the focus of Mouride enterprise, where the principle open-air market has been gradually taken over by Mouride traders and businessmen (Cruise O’Brien, 1988; Diop, 1983). The organization of the brotherhoods still hinges on the traditional da’ira which hold weekly meetings where religious singing takes place, and members’ fees are collected. Although the association is a moral community that rests on the memory and deeds of its founder, it also acts as something of club and self-help organization. Importantly, it enjoys a comparative advantage in the markets, on the streets and in the shanty towns because of the reciprocal trust among members and their credit worthiness.

The urban associations do not prescribe an individual’s enterprise, nor lend money, but individuals may offer credit and goods to new members. In effect the more prosperous traders become patrons of young talibs, who organize them as street sellers for their goods and services, and while they have no claim to religious authority, they have assumed a social leadership. Like their rural counterparts, street sellers are cheap labour and may spend as long as 10 years working for very little financial return. Yet, in addition to the promise of paradise through work, their patron finds lodgings, obtains necessary permits and papers, and looks after them in times of distress. Consequently, the brotherhood has had a powerful attraction for young urban migrants. Mourides are now more than traders: they own factories, transport companies, petrol stations and their success represents a substantial challenge to their established rural counterparts, especially in terms of their accumulated wealth.

The urban brotherhoods since the 1980s have also seen the emergence of a new type of Mouride; young educated disciples that include the University trained who have adopted a more militant and expansionist stance. Of particular importance is Hizbut Tariqiya centred on the University of Dakar, which also includes traders living abroad, as well as those in Touba (Beck, 2001). Membership of a da’ira now embraces a wide spectrum of age, occupation and education that gathers around a particular marabout, and as such challenges simple urban-rural dichotomies. The educated brothers are literate in French and Arabic, seek employment in the professions, large corporations and state services. These young Mourides are proselytizers and ideologues, who proclaim an African Islam that is not subservient to the Middle East: an Islam founded by a black African whose texts are sacred and not just a worker of miracles, but one who stood against colonialism and Westernization.

One response to the economic crises and rigours of Structural Adjustment (SAP) was a search for new markets overseas. This can be seen now in the presence of Mouride street peddlers in France, especially in the larger cities such as Paris where they sell African artwork and handicraft items. And, not just in Paris but also in other European countries. This new phase of Mouridism has been assisted by the modernization and spread of Mouridism through the use of cassettes, videos and online consultations with clerics. The Mourides now have assumed the status of an international diaspora, and as such caught the attention of the BBC in a radio documentary entitled ‘Senegal’s Mourides: Islam’s mystical entrepreneurs’ (Judah, 2011). Mouridism is now widespread throughout West Africa, and increasingly within northern Nigerian there are Mourides comprising business men and politicians who make their annual pilgrimage to Touba. As in Senegal, Mouridism has grown out of the Tijaniyya has become well established in northern Nigeria since the 1950s.

The political power and influence of the Mourides in Senegal has been and continues to be considerable. Their success as groundnut producers saw them increasingly favoured by the French, while after independence they became capable of delivering a bloc vote in Presidential and local elections. In return for their support the Mourides have been provided with access to numerous state resources, recognition of their religious authority, as well as allowing their illegal border trading. Thus, the holy city of Touba has become something of a state within the state: a centre of trading and informal activity where taxes and regulations are not stringently applied. However, Mouride influence politically has begun to wane. An analysis by Gifford (2016) while not denying its’ importance, points to the changing dynamics of recent years. Now all the brotherhoods in Senegal are led by religious families who are the descendants of the original founders, and they have become more vocal, highly commercialized and part of the clientelist state, while talibs are more scattered, more educated and urbane. But the Mourides are not alone in embracing a work ethic associated with the development of commerce and businesses; similar tendencies are apparent in the flourishing evangelical Christian churches in West Africa.

Pentecostalism: an enchanted Christianity and a morally-controlled materialism

In 1942 97% of Nigeria’s school population was in missionary schools, while in 1952 in Ghana the equivalent school population was 90% (Berman, 1974). The missions attempted to create African Christians in the image of Europeans, freed from superstition, local religious practices and witchcraft. In carrying out their mission there was an essential drive for Western literacy which provided a steady flow of clerks for government service, as well as commercial firms. Also, in order to make useful citizens they trained men for a variety of trades, and consequently the missions had an impact on livelihoods and lifestyles that also stimulated the political consciousness of Africans. Vaughan (2016) considered that religious affiliation was an integral part of the evolution and shaping of the post-colonial Nigerian state. However, at Independence in the 1960s the missionary grip was weakened as newly Independent governments took over education, and the general belief was that Christianity would decline accordingly.

However, Africans in a changing postcolonial and post development world have produced their own forms of Christianity, which in West Africa since the 1970s has led to a surge and expansion of fundamentalist churches, principally through the phenomenal growth of Pentecostalism. It has been argued that the Pentecostal or Born Again Christian movement has become the most significant socio-cultural force in southern Africa, and its adherents number some 126 million. It is particularly strong in West Africa, where Nigeria and Ghana have emerged as principal centres of Pentecostalism; for example it has been estimated that over a quarter of all Ghanaians belong to charismatic or Pentecostal churches (McCauley, 2013), while the Living Faith Church Worldwide, founded in Lagos in 1983 has 6000 branches in Nigeria and 700 elsewhere in Africa.

Membership of Pentecostal churches is open to all: it is inclusive, independent of one’s former life and status, indeed an essential element is the rejection of one’s former self. Thus, established values such as ethnicity, chieftaincy, lineage, authority and marriage practices are challenged and changed. Membership demands self-discipline, obedience to the church, and the miraculous working of the Holy Spirit through prayer, prophecy and anointing by pastors. It is experience beyond cognition and reason. One of the most important aspects is prayer; prolonged and often ecstatic that thwarts evil forces and allows the reclamation of ones’ true destiny, while believers support their church through continuous tithes and other contributions. Local churches spring up around charismatic leaders; some remain local, others develop into national and international centres of worship, but generally they are an urban phenomenon.

Although Pentecostalism sees itself as a world movement, its central force and success in West Africa lies in its engagement with traditional African forms of spirituality and the supernatural (Gifford, 2015). It resonates with that world view of the inseparability of the natural and supernatural, where spirits, demons, witches and spiritual powers inhabit all walks of life. It acknowledges the presence of negative powers responsible for misery, illness, poverty, hunger, misfortune and a lack of success. And, the Pentecostal church offers its members a solution: the Christian Victory over the powers of darkness that block the road to happiness, health, material success and prosperity in the here and now, not just a promise of a life to come. The Christian Victory is the heritage of true believers, led by pastors or self-styled bishops who have had visions and achieved divine appointment and material success, a process boosted and advertised by radio and television (Tazanu, 2018). Gifford (2015) has called Pentecostalism ‘an enchanted Christianity’ driven by an enchanted religious imagination. And, here there are parallels with the charismatic role of marabouts in Mouridisme, and Last’s (1988) interpretation of charismatic Islam as a ‘technology to access power’.

The pursuit of material success is evident; congregations are motivated to succeed and to ‘get on in life’. The Pentecostal Church encourages entrepreneurship, opportunities to improve literacy and business skills, as well as life skills such as abstinence and hard work. A study by Van Dijk (2012) of Ghanaian churches comprising upwardly mobile middle-class members, suggested that training in business methods, including time management, planning and budgeting, provided a form of ‘salvation through the market’. Freeman (2012) has argued that Pentecostal churches are more effective agents of change than many NGOs because they emphasize community and work through established structures of power and authority. The relative success of Pentecostal churches lies in their localized internal funding that is beyond the control of the state and external agencies. Also, the Church emphasizes individual subjective endeavour that is transforming, while decision making lies within congregations where generally participation levels are higher than in most NGOs.

Pentecostal congregations are especially important in the migratory process when young men leave rural areas and head for the towns and cities. Young men looking for work or hoping to start small businesses are attracted by the charisma of Pentecostal churches and the hope of a new life. In these ways they have a good deal in common with the Mouride spiritual networks that also are essential to survival and success. Clearly Pentecostalism attracts and creates achievers, and the titles most churches adopt suggests that they are ‘winners’. Certainly, the leaders of the larger congregations have become extremely wealthy and influential. It is the pastors, or self-styled bishops that bring material resources, services and opportunities to which only the faithful have access, although members also may help each other as well as new devotees. Leaders of the larger churches are multi-dollar millionaires who move around in private jets, which in the eyes of their congregations is a vindication of the belief that the truly holy are so blessed in this life.

Writing about Pentecostalism in Nigeria, Marshall (2009) has pointed out that there are many different Pentecostalisms, which have changed over time, which by their very nature (often local and idiosyncratic) make generalizations difficult. In the 1970s the church was primarily about holiness and revival, but the 1980s and 1990s saw the emergence of the ‘doctrine of the talents’. The pursuit of God’s work becomes part of an integral relationship between religious life and employment. Ideally the church promotes frugality and responsibility; what Marshall (2009) has called ‘morally controlled materialism’. This new development and the associated accumulation of wealth of members and their pastors has attracted more educated achievers, and an engagement with politics and other public spheres, which has meant possible access to funds outside the church. Many churches have become more ‘middle class’, while clearly churches are an important part of the process of male urban migration.

It has been argued that Pentecostalism has flourished because of the changing economic fortunes of many African states from the 1980s onwards, as well as questions about the legitimacy of the state and its crumbling institutions. A reflection of this has been a dramatic rise in the informal economy. The IMF estimated that between 2010 and 2014 the informal economy comprising unregistered household enterprises was responsible for 38% of GDP in sub-Saharan Africa, while noting there were substantial variations, with Nigeria at the higher level of 65% (business a.m., 2017). An interesting study by Kate Meagher (2009) of informal sector small business in southern Nigeria in the early 2000s specifically examined the influence of religion shaping livelihoods at regional and local levels. It also suggested that the dynamics of Pentecostal revivalism may have a Weberian tendency.

Meagher (2009) focused part of her survey on garment and shoe businesses that employed between five and 10 workers in the Igbo city of Aba renowned for its evangelical churches. Within a cluster of garment businesses some 50% had Pentecostal allegiances that encouraged skills, education and frugality, as well as assimilating skilled workers from other Igbo communities, while prohibiting membership of traditional Igbo town associations. It appeared that group solidarity among garment workers had deflected the worst effects of SAP, as well as driving accumulation and investment within the garment cluster. However, shoe businesses in Aba were somewhat different. Initially they were a poor man’s business, characterized by low levels of investment, education and skills set within the mainstream churches, observing traditional family structures. But in the 1990s through a wave of conversions the evangelicals became a major force, as they overtook the original founders by attracting more skilled and educated workers. These new entrants had been forced to seek opportunities in this sector by deteriorating economic circumstances elsewhere, as they sought advantageous social and economic networks and general assistance in hard times. Some 37% of shoe businesses were associated with Pentecostal churches, whose members were also interested in cultivating relations with better placed wealthier groups and state politicians; something perversely reminiscent of patronage and clientelism, as well as being less ascetic.

Religion, sustainable change and development

There is a diversity of opinion about how and why Pentecostal churches have emerged, their impact and their role as agents of social and economic change. Meagher (2009) has suggested its support for small businesses and low paid administrative workers might possibly become a modernizing anti-patrimonial ethos, that might represent a distinctly Weberian modernizing tendency. Yet, as Meagher admits there are signs that the middle classes have sought to capture these new religious movements for their own purposes as entrepreneurial religious leaders, while political elites have instrumentalized them for their own political and economic advantage. Consequently, a popular economic and political transformation maybe in danger of being thwarted. A rather different view of the emergence of Pentecostalism and its socio economic impact is advanced by McCauley (2013) based on work in Ghana centred on the town of Kumasi and five satellite villages. For McCauley, Pentecostalism is neither a function of Weberian ethics, nor of occult spiritualities. Rather it flourished in a gap left by the state after a breakdown in the 1970s, together with SAP in the 1980s and its inability to provide services and resources which occasioned a need for new social networks. Furthermore, Government bureaucratic interventions over land distribution and registration have undercut the old kin-based patrimonial systems. Added to this the increase in urbanization and migration have weakened traditional ‘Big Man’ patron–client relations.

Within Kumasi and its satellite villages McCauley (2013) noted that it was the upwardly mobile, together with needy migrants at the juncture of rural–urban migration that were attracted to the church. And, it was students too, cut off from their homes and patron–client networks that were drawn to Pentecostalism. Churches also provided lodgings, education for member’s children, cocoa farms on church land, and outreach medical facilities. Thus, the church is providing support and facilities beyond the formal provision of the state, although there was also a considerable flow of resources and money from members towards their pastors. McCauley while not entirely dismissing the important break with the past made by adherents, together with the existence of Weberian tendencies of new business ventures, nonetheless felt that the ‘Big-Man’ structure was still the ‘best fit’. In effect ‘Big Men’ have now been translated to the domain of Christian discipleship, and may be seen as a complement to traditional patron–client relations that remain for the many who are not Pentecostal church members.

The analysis of Pentecostalism by Gifford (2015) also emphasizes the supreme importance of the power of prayer, biblical truth and tithing in the search for success in business, which is at some remove from acknowledging the power of market forces. Ultimately the origins of wealth for Pentecostals lie not in a capitalist dynamic, but in a biblical one. While hard work is prescriptive, in the final analysis the essential ingredients of a good job or career is via prayer, anointing, tithing and faith. The church is also insulated from the environment in general, as well as the workings of market economics in particular. Droughts, floods, slumps in world commodity markets and fiscal policies and currency shifts are not responsible for success or the lack of it in one’s business; the answer lies in divine intervention or retribution, and of not walking the way of the righteous.

On the other hand, Freeman (2012) has suggested it is not just a case of the church drawing people into the world of business, rather it re-legitimizes their being there. It is not just about jobs either but setting up businesses that encourage risk taking and the accumulation of personal wealth compared with patrimonial systems endorsed by local religions. And, while the churches practices may not conform strictly to the accepted Weberian Protestant work ethic, perhaps they have developed their own peculiar African Pentecostal version of it. But to what extent this philosophy of work and success might extend across the whole spectrum of small businesses encouraged by the various churches is difficult to ascertain. Nonetheless, in common with Mouride enterprises, which also might claim an African ‘work ethic’ businesses do generally contribute to GDP and create employment, as well as upward and downward linkages that may involve or articulate with other businesses and more established forms of capitalist production and exchange.

Weber did not maintain that Protestantism created capitalism, but it may have been an unintentional consequence. Some re-assessment of Weber’s Protestant work ethic and how it matches with the historic record of social and economic change in Europe has been made by Becker and Woessmann (2009). They looked at 19th century Prussia where two thirds of the population were Protestant and one third Catholic. The differences in attainment between the two showed that longer education among Protestants led to careers in manufacturing and services with higher incomes, whereas Catholics performed less well. Their conclusions, while admitting there were other factors too, was that literacy and education associated with religion were the crucial factors in the transformation of society. The promotion of literacy is important for Pentecostals and for some years now education generally has been considered as a means to further economic change and development premised on the experience of 19th century Europe. But conditions are different in Africa: capitalism is largely dependent on external forces and still dominated by the service sector, while education often prepares people for opportunities that are not available, leading to frustration and dissent. Thus, context is everything and, as Levy (2014) opined, vast sweeps of history have brought advanced industrial nations from where they were in the 19th century to where they are now. Describing the current levels of development of advanced countries and reverse engineering them for low-income countries smacks of a combination of naiveté and amnesia.

A major problem throughout West Africa is that of violence and disenchantment among an unemployed mass of young people, who have no sustainable livelihoods and little or no education. Paden (2012) has characterized this as a generational and identity issue in which those born after 1976 represent the fourth generation after Independence frustrated by a lack of jobs and opportunities. Discontent has been directed towards the power of elders, corrupt politicians as well as failing states. In Sierra Leone during the civil war of 1991–2002 Richards (2005) argued that young men preferred to ‘fight rather than farm’ because they were disenchanted with the power of village elders over marriage, land and labour. Yet incongruously, part of the post-war settlement was that it should be done through chiefs. And, while increasingly the young are questioning a traditional patron–client society, it is these discontented young men who have been appropriated by elders and politicians for their own purposes. The issue of patrimonialism and clientelism is pervasive and somewhat confused. At a local level the rift between elders and the young is apparently often reinforced by local religions as well as Islam, while Christian Pentecostalism attempts actively to undermine it. At a national level wealthy and political elites are resented by old and young across a spectrum of beliefs and educational attainment. Yet, some development thinkers have suggested that patron–client relations within ruling regimes might be targeted to advantage where pockets of opportunity and efficiency occur in businesses and organizations beyond state structures. A neo-patrimonialism ‘working with the grain’ rather than against it, that has had some success in Ghana’s cocoa industry (Whitfield and Burr, 2012).

Currently, the militarization of patronage networks occurs across West Africa where religion and the occult are powerful factors in the organization and perpetration of violence, as well as a means of articulating dissent. In the turbulent oil-rich Niger delta Pratten (2007) has explored how the past plays out the post-colonial present through a culturally informed response to matters of resource ownership, land rights, jobs and the challenges of everyday life. Masquerades and warrior cults have become the idioms of protest and action. The agaba youth group which Pratten studied were masqueraders, drummers and dancers whose performance was focused on a shrine. Within northern Nigeria the presence and violent activities of Boko Haram have received international coverage, while nationally there has also been angry speculation about how young men are recruited and become involved. Much of the attention has been on schools. The provision and delivery of state primary school education is poor in the north, while it is alleged that students of the widespread local Qur’anic schools provide the pool of foot soldiers for Boko Haram (Comolli, 2015).

However, all major Nigerian towns include an array of susceptible young men; street hustlers and petty traders who may be either seasonal migrants, or permanent residents. A broader perspective is that this problem is about a broken and failed socio-economic youth subsystem, a failing state and disenchantment among the young and lower orders in general (Comolli, 2015). In the 1980s Lubeck (1988) studied urban factory workers and petty traders and business men in Kano, which seemed to indicate the emergence of a working class with a sense of identity who were able to express its dissatisfaction through trade unions. However, this seems to have stalled, and as Lubeck admitted the power of Islamic nationalism and a provision of identity for the disadvantaged is very strong.

But in general, how might Islam be positioned in the context of a shift towards development and modernity? A particular concern of Muslims is why Islamic societies and their achievements had declined by the 19th century, whereas Western Christian-Protestant societies developed economically and politically. Notable analyses of Islam and capitalist development by Turner (1974, 2010) considered Weber’s major work on the Protestant work ethic together with his unfinished work on Islam. Based on historical evidence the most convincing thesis is what is known as ‘sultanism’. A decline that was a result not so much of legal systems and religious mysticism, but of patrimonial structures and the problems of military finance that underpinned the power of leaders, together with contingent matters such as taxation. In the 19th century, Islamic states (and others too) became economically dependent on colonialism, as well as coping with the fact that non-Islamic powers were so successful. The outcome was that Islam in the 20th century returned to more orthodox ascetic ways, with a consequent attack on Sufism, which in West Africa has gathered pace in recent years.

In West Africa as colonial rule progressed Muslim leaders and rulers were incorporated into the colonial administrative apparatus, especially where indirect rule was obtained, such as in Nigeria. As Last (1988) has observed, after Independence the Muslim hierarchy in northern Nigeria continued to increase its involvement in politics, commerce and industry. Accordingly, he notes how the upper echelons of Northern society have sought the services of successful Sufist scholars for appropriate specifics and medicines, that will assure and maintain political and business success in a volatile world. Similarly, as discussed earlier, in Senegal the Sufist Mourides had an early accommodation with the French colonial state based on mutual economic and political interests, especially in the development of the groundnut trade as well as a variety of commercial interests. After Independence new leaders, despite any reservations about mystical religiosity, have relied on political support from the Mourides, who continue to have an important impact on agriculture, commerce and industry. So, is Mouridism an exceptional transforming force? Notably there are several reservations. For example, the organization of labour comprises a closed and restrictive market where the talibs provide a cheap labour force in the expectation of future material gain, as well as an assured entry into paradise. The Mourides enjoy state protection, while tithing is also a basic part of its funding. Also, the Mouride concept of a work ethic and manual labour may be a product of colonial rule and a reaction against local political establishments. Both Mouridism and Pentecostalism have had, and continue to have a considerable impact on livelihoods, yet their beliefs and practices are not fully consonant with open capitalist relations of production and free markets. Thus, while they have created significant pockets of socio-economic change, they may not be sufficient engines of universal change.

Finally, are local religions inimical to agrarian change and progress among myriad farmers whose livelihoods are often shaped by their ontological spiritualities? Historically and empirically it is difficult to support any such contention. There is a long history of rural people adopting new commercial crops, such as cocoa, coffee, groundnuts and palm oil, and integrating them with their farming systems and beliefs, while there is a long history of markets and commercial exchange. Farmers have proved their openness to new seeds (rice and groundnut varieties), new cultivation practices (small scale irrigation) when they are operable in terms of household labour organization, risk and the right commercial circumstances. Farmers understanding of local environments and innovatory skills, as well as their coping strategies in adverse circumstances are well attested, which is part of their understanding of the natural world that is inclusive and dependent on a sense of the supernatural, as well as often being environmentally and socially beneficial. As Linares (1992) opined cultural patterns and historical transformations are a result not just of the penetration of capitalist market forces, but also they result from the often contradictory ways in which ideological processes have been used to negotiate between old and new economic opportunities. And, by far the most important ideological process at work among rural people in Africa is religion, where phenomena may have a sacred or supra-empirical quality.

What is a problem for rural communities is uncertainty: about weather, producer prices, risks of adopting new crops either temporally or permanently, and the social repercussions for relations of power and authority. West African farmers are not inhibited per se towards change because of their religiosity, which in many ways contributes to their survival, but because they lack economic and political environments that assist them and are conducive to change. Lubeck (1988) writing about Islam, urban labour and capitalism in Kano, in the late 1980s, concluded that there was a need for a productive discipline in Nigerian civil society, and that without a disciplined coalition around the state and a policy of creating the necessary conditions for indigenous and foreign-based accumulation, capitalist development in Nigeria would flounder with increasing stagnation and possible anarchy. Paden (2012) suggested that political systems have to reach a consensus on matters of community and authority, an ability to effect change and legitimacy, and an acceptance of a decision-making leadership. The absence of these conditions and a society and economy in flux are reflected in the observations of Van de Grijpaarde et al. (2013) on witchcraft in Sierra Leone, where rural people are ‘caught in the middle’ of a shift in farming practices and associated systems of power and authority, where matters of land titling and rental agreements were neither consistent nor enforceable. Throughout West Africa there are partial transformations of society, economy and polity; a hybridization or an articulation of the pre-capitalist and capitalist that have distinctly spatial characteristics too. Resolving these complex and often ambiguous issues together with the emergence of an enabling environment for sustained socio-economic change may take a substantial amount of time, and not susceptible to ‘quick fix’ interventions.

Conclusion

The political economy of rural livelihoods and small informal businesses is important inasmuch it raises issues of consumption, distribution, the control of resources and opportunities, and where power lies, together with the contextual drivers of change. But a full understanding of the shaping of livelihoods in West Africa requires an examination not just of the material aspects of life, but also the spiritual, and it is incumbent on those seeking to make social and economic interventions to note this. Local religions inform how farmers understand Nature and their environment, as well as influencing the access and allocation of resources, and who has power over them. Also, ideologies and beliefs may be used to mediate between old practices and new economic opportunities. In the case of the Mourides and Pentecostal churches they allow adherents to access and develop business opportunities, while the former embraces a need for literacy as well. Both are important in the urban job-seeking migratory process for young men and are important agents of socio-economic change. But the advantages offered are restricted to their adherents and may not be sufficient to create a major shift in livelihood outcomes for the majority of the population. Nonetheless, they do interact with society and economy beyond their immediate remit.

In West Africa spirituality expressed in its many forms has had, and continues to have, an undeniable influence in people’s livelihoods: it is pervasive and persistent. Local religions over the past few decades may have declined in the face of education and modern market forces, although they remain stronger in remoter rural areas. But importantly to some extent they have been incorporated within formal religions such as Islam and Christianity. Both have expanded their reach and indeed their success is part of their espousal of the supernatural and the occult. Alternatively, discontent with poor or non-existent livelihood opportunities together with State incompetence and corruption has been articulated through religion, sometimes violently. People may invoke their spiritual beliefs particularly in two contexts, which are not mutually exclusive. Firstly, many West African countries are socially, economically and politically hybrid entities in a state of flux and change. In the face of uncertainty, be it environmental or broadly social, or in times of conflict, both rural farmers as well as small businessmen may seek assurance and protection through faith. Secondly, the roles of intermediaries are deemed essential for producing good crops, finding jobs and of being successful where the supernatural is a means of accessing power. In both good times and bad, people seek the ‘power of the gods’.