Numerous writers—ethnologists, linguists, educators, and lately literary critics and African creative writers themselves—have called attention to the problems of communication either from African to European or vice versa. The problems range from purely linguistic inequivalence in literal translations to the inequivalence between words and their referents in the cultures described, and further to the manifold difficulties of educators or writers wishing to develop successful communication between themselves and their audiences.

Cuba's revolution is one of the genuine revolutions of our century. By the scope, depth, and irreversibility of the changes wrought, it has ushered in a new era in the history of the Americas and is as epochal an event as the American declaration of independence. Two outstanding works, the first by two British academics and two Latin Americans,1 the other by a distinguished French agronomist, Africanist, and adviser to the Cuban Government,2 have done much to illuminate the past, immediate, and future problems of the first American nation to embark on the lines of socialist development. These authors have for the first time assembled and synthesised dispassionately a prodigious amount of data concerning the economic life of this controversial nation; and they have managed to avoid the passions of the cold war. The two works are harmoniously dovetailed; the first treats its subject historically and analytically since the turn of the century, the second deals with the institutional strengths and weaknesses that have emerged since the revolution, and takes the story up to the end of 1963 and the appearance of ‘socialist monoculture’.

Despite the superb hospitality of the President of Sénégal and his Government, and of the rector and staff of Dakar University, the second meeting of the International Congress of Africanists in December 1967 must be accounted a disaster on such a scale as to endanger the whole future of the organisation. Intending participants were given wholly insufficient notice to produce papers worthy of such an occasion, and those who nevertheless complied with the invitation were cruelly disappointed to find on arrival that their contributions had not been translated or duplicated for circulation in advance of the sessions at which they were to be presented. Neither a programme nor even a provisional list of participants was available in advance of the meeting. Even so, there were persons billed as chairmen of sections and leading speakers who failed to put in an appearance. As a result, most of the discussions at most of the sessions had to be improvised. True, one of the admirable team of U.N.E.S.G.O. interpreters was heard to say ‘J’ai vu pire’, but when pressed he could think of only one worse example. No doubt individual participants could point to fresh contacts which made the occasion not wholly a waste of time, but there must be few who could conscientiously ask their employers to provide the expenses of attending another meeting without the assurance that it would be of a very different character from this one.

There is a cancer in the body politic of South Africa that may not be cured in the foreseeable future but cannot be ignored. The Prime Minister, Pieter Willem Botha, is currently attempting to again support for a modified form of apartheid or multinational development. More land and resources must be assigned to Blacks, and a great deal more capital and recurrent funds must be spent if the Homelands are to be built up and made viable and attractive. Meanwhile, some concessions to Indians and Coloureds are being made to get them to acquiesce to a modified system of government and administration. They have not, however, satisfied Blacks, who want nothing less than majority rule, and the constitutional changes are strongly opposed by the right-wing faction of the ruling National Party. This short article will review prevailing attitudes and recommendations concerning current developments in South Africa, and then offer a possible solution to the seemingly insolvable dilemma.

The Institute was founded in January 1963 as a department of the Haile Selassie I University, for research in all fields relating to Ethiopia. It is at present organised in three main sections, the Amharic collection, the library, and the museum. The Amharic collection, a unique assortment of books, pamphlets, and periodicals published in this language, is under the charge of Mr Stephen Wright, a life-long specialist in Ethiopian affairs. Mr. S. Chojnacki is responsible for the Institute's valuable library of books on Ethiopia, and for an ethnological and a small but growing historical museum.

The idea of taking free drama to the masses of people who have no local theatre and in any case could not afford expensive seats is becoming an established custom for the Dramatic Society of Makerere University College. The 1966 Travelling Theatre visited many towns in Uganda and Kenya. We journeyed in a very crowded Land-Rover, another being used for the luggage. An immense framework had to be carried to hold the curtains that formed the background of our stage in all performances; on top of this had to be put suitcases, spears and shields, and big boxes for our costumes.

In the past decade Africa has experienced a dramatic decrease in the number of national democratic institutions. Parliaments have not met, parties have declined or been outlawed, and elections have not been held in many states. The situation appears to be similar at the local level. Commenting on this state of affairs, Fred G. Burke observed in 1969: ‘One wonders whether there is to be any future for democratic local government in Africa. One might also wonder whether there should be any future.’2

The Government of Uganda headed by President Yoweri Museveni, which came to power in January 1986, has made impressive progress since then in bringing about peace and national reconcilication, and in restoring the rule of law. It has turned the economy round from what might be described as ‘free fall’ to steady growth, albeit still heavily dependent on foreign aid. It has returned expropriated properties to their Asian owners, and has begun to attract foreign investment. Above all it has restored hope and given Ugandans back their pride. These are no means achievements, and place the country firmly among the few in Africa in recent years which have managed to bring about a real improvement in the overall quality of life for their citizens, albeit from a very low base. This would in itself be sufficient reason for looking more closely at what has been happening there. But, after all the disappointments of the past, it is also legitimate to ask whether these dramatic improvements are likely to be sustainable.

‘Blackness is not absence, but refusal’ said Aimé Césaire. The only trouble with refusal as a literary posture is that it is inclined to produce writing which is concerned with public gesture rather than with private and particular observation. Until recently, the great bulk of French writing by Africans could be fairly labelled as romantic, rhetorical, and directed at general rather than individual situations. That is to say, there was a preference for romantically revolutionary statements about ‘the situation of the negro’, rather than exploratory statements about the situation of the individual writer at a particular moment in space and time.

Constitutions in Africa are often considered fragile. Mali is an example of both constitutional crisis and constitutional durability. While Mali was upheld as a democratic model, the 2012 military coup might lead one to argue that Mali's recent history reflects constitutional weakness. However, the swift reinstatement of the constitution, popular commitment to its preservation, and attempts to pursue the post-coup transition in a constitutional manner all illustrate the domestic and international legitimacy of Mali's 1992 constitution. This article analyses the process of the proposed Malian constitutional referendum that, though constitutional in itself, contributed to the March 2012 overthrow of President Touré. It argues that the history of participatory constitutionalism in Mali contributed to the movement against the referendum. Constitutional reform is a necessity for an enduring constitution and this article sheds light on constitutional reform in states with weak legislatures, and illustrates the process of reform and the political divide that surrounded it in Mali. It provides a unique analysis of the crisis in Mali while at the same time making a contribution to our understanding of constitutionalism and constitutional reform in Africa.