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Thematic Article
Revisiting African indigenous eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity: an autobiographical case of totemism among the Kipsigis
Abstract
African indigenous knowledge systems and ecologies have often been marginalised in global environmental discourses due to their ‘unscientific’ and non-empirical nature. There is, however, a growing appreciation that African cosmology and ecologies are spiritual, theistic, and ordered where one mode of existence presupposes all the others and that a balance must be maintained among the different forms of life for harmonious coexistence. One way of maintaining balance among the different forms of existence was through totemic taboos. Using the Kipsigis community of Kenya, particularly the belief and practice of totemism, this article examines through oral history and storytelling, how totems created physical and spiritual bonds between the community and environment through taboos. Acknowledging that these invaluable indigenous ecological knowledge systems have eroded due to urbanisation, modernisation, and Christianisation, this article makes an autobiographical case for how young people can revisit such knowledges to inspire an eco-spirituality that, combined with scientific and technological efforts, will enhance environmental conservation. (This article is published in the thematic collection ‘African ecologies: the value and politics of indigenous knowledges’, edited by Adriaan van Klinken, Simon Manda, Damaris Parsitau and Abel Ugba.)
Keywords
autobiographyAfrican indigenous knowledge systemseco-spiritualityeco-solidarityenvironmentKipsigistotemismIntroduction
Dominant Western discourses have historically treated African indigenous knowledge systems as primitive, simple and static (Ikeke 2018; Ritskes 2012). The indigenous forms of knowledge have been considered as mere repetition of ritualistic practices that are not scientifically linked to any theory (Nkondo 2012). African indigenous wisdom is, however, embedded in community practices, institutions, relationships, and rituals. It is generated within communities and is thus socially, historically, and contextually constructed to address the livelihood needs of the people (Kaya & Seleti 2013: 35). It is lived, experienced, and transmitted across generations through myths, proverbs, taboos, stories, and beliefs (Gitau 2000) and is therefore not formally documented according to Western standards and conceptualisations of knowledge production and scholarship. It is written in people’s hearts, memories, and lives, and its rich complexity lies in community ceremonies, rituals, and taboos (Ngara 2007).
When I joined the University of Nairobi in Kenya as a first-year student over a decade ago, accompanied by my father, I was excited but nervous as I was going to live in the city of Nairobi for the first time in my life. As we queued waiting to be allocated a room within the university hostels, my father spotted one of the female students, whom to him looked ‘mature’ and could be a good roommate to his young daughter. When we got to my room, true to my father’s wishes, we met the very student already in the room. To add to his excitement, my roommate was from my ethnic community and so the conversation with my father quickly went into my mother tongue. My father’s greetings started with, ‘ara I bo an ora?’ which translates to, ‘so to which clan do you belong?’ Surprisingly, she was (is) from our clan (kibomuek) and we share the same totem (cheptirgichet (duiker)). My father went back home happy that his children (my roommate and I) had met at the university.
This anecdote depicts how human relationships among the Kipsigis of southwestern Kenya, like most African indigenous communities, stem not only from blood relations but also totemic relationships. The clan system is not only a symbol of identity but a strong bond of blood relationship since members of the same clan claim descent from one ancestor (Toweett 1979). Life among the indigenous Kipsigis was anchored on relationships between human beings, nature, and the spiritual world. This means that misuse of the environment and its resources not only threatened human existence but also the cosmic and spiritual worlds. The indigenous Kipsigis people held sacralised views of nature and a reverential attitude of responsibility towards the ecosystem. Totems and taboos acted as ecological guardians, playing significant roles in the conservation of animal and plant species.
Unfortunately, this tradition of eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity among the Kipsigis has been eroded because of the changes that came with modernity and with today’s globalised economy, where nature has been commodified (monetarised). Human greed for wealth and power has led to depletion of natural resources and encroachment into riparian lands, including water resources like the Mau Forest (known as the Kipsigis water tower). There is a need to revisit and retrieve virtue ethics, grounded in indigenous knowledge systems, to respond to ecological concerns. While global strategies and initiatives like carbon trading and investments in sustainable energy technologies are being adopted to address the current ecological crises and reduce the emissions of greenhouse gases (GHGs), these mitigating measures and approaches emphasise scientific and technological perspectives shaped by contemporary mechanistic and economy-oriented worldviews that tend to externalise nature (Bergmann 2009: 98). Cultural, spiritual, and sacred dimensions of life enshrined in African indigenous worldviews have not been considered holistically and formally in the ongoing global ecological initiatives. The contemporary environmental crisis is anthropogenic in nature and thus cannot be simply ‘fixed’ by technical and economical systemic solutions alone (Bergmann 2009: 99). Diversified approaches that incorporate indigenous ecological knowledges and spiritualities should be included.
My contention in this article is that indigenous traditions of eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity, like the Kipsigis’ belief and practice of totemism, should be revisited to evoke transformational and sustainable human–nature relationships, notwithstanding the impact of formal education, urbanisation, Christianisation, and globalisation on such indigenous knowledges. Such arguments have been made by many scholars, especially in the discourse about indigenous ecological knowledges and their significance for environmental protection in contemporary Africa (Ayaa & Waswa 2016; Diawuo & Issifu 2015). However, the question that is largely overlooked is how this can be achieved. How can young people in Kenya today, who grew up in urban environments and in Christian contexts, revisit indigenous knowledges to inspire an eco-spirituality that, combined with scientific and technological efforts, will enhance environmental conservation? This article offers an autobiographical response to this question, as I will draw on my own life experiences and my journey of rediscovering and appreciating the ecological knowledges from the tradition and community I am rooted in, and of integrating these knowledges in my life.
Autobiography is a qualitative methodological approach in the humanities and social sciences that draws on personal and communal histories and lived experiences as a resource of knowledge and insight. African cultural heritage and indigenous knowledge are characterised by narratives and oral traditions that are transmitted from one generation to another. African feminist scholars have argued that women played, and still play, important roles in the process of transmitting religio-cultural and ecological knowledge in traditional societies, and that therefore oral and narrative methods are vital to reconstruct such knowledge. As Nadar (2012: 274) puts it with reference to African feminist scholars in religion and theology, their work ‘bears testimony to this respect for story as a legitimate method and source of theology’. This includes the use of autobiographical methods, where scholars draw on their own embodied life experiences as a source of knowledge and meaning. For instance, the Ghanaian feminist theologian Oduyoye (2001), the founder of the Circle of Concerned African Women Theologians, championed this methodology by sharing her personal story as an African Christian woman of her time, who though educated and Christianised, had to overcome repressive cultural beliefs surrounding childlessness. Storytelling has been adopted as an important tool to narrate women’s experiences in historical and cultural contexts to advocate for reconstructive theologies built from the storied lives of African women (Ayanga 2016). It is an empowering tool that does not end at narration but encourages reflection and analysis of the stories ‘to create new narratives as well as develop new interpretative lenses’ (Ayanga 2016: 3). As a method, it includes autobiographical stories that reflect ‘experiences of struggle, vulnerability and liberation in the context of the family, culture and society, the church and the academy’ (Van Klinken 2018: 217–18). Building on this established methodological approach, in this article I narrate oral family history and personal reflections on Kipsigis culture, particularly totemism, to retell how as a young, Christianised, educated, and urbanised Kipsigis woman, I re-examine indigenous ecological wisdom in view of inspiring the youth to revisit the indigenous ecological knowledges for environmental conservation.
This article will unfold as follows. First is a conceptual rooting of African ecologies, particularly eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity. Totemism among the Kipsigis is then discussed and its implications for environmental conservation drawn with reference to how the young generations can revisit and integrate such indigenous knowledges with modern scientific and technological innovations to conserve the environment. The article ends with a conclusion.
African ecologies: eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity
African eco-spirituality is a form of African consciousness that explores the connection between African spirituality and the earth or ecology (Kanu 2021). It is a growing alternative approach to the ecological crisis that is being championed by African scholars and global organisations like the United Nations (2018: 5), which have appreciated that the environment is understood among indigenous people as both natural and spiritual. It is a form of spirituality anchored on Africans’ sacred view of ecology, which stems from their indigenous ecological knowledge, described by Berkes (2018: 8) as ‘a cumulative body of knowledge, practice and belief, evolving by adaptive processes and handed down through generations by cultural transmission, about the relationship of living beings (including humans) with one another and with their environment’.
Most African indigenous communities, such as the Kipsigis, believe that nature is inhabited by spirits who represent the creator. Misuse of the environment, therefore, affect human, natural, and spiritual worlds. Accordingly, calamities such as floods, drought, famine, diseases, and epidemics are believed to be God’s punishment for humans’ evil deeds towards nature (Mbiti 1969). Human beings are to live harmoniously with nature and spiritual beings including God since life is an integrated web. Eco-spiritual values and practices that promote conservation of the environment are not thus due to law enforcement but emanate from spiritual and social responsibility that human beings must fulfil to avoid punishment from spiritual beings (Gumo et al. 2012: 527).
Within this framework, human beings are understood not as apart from nor above nature, but as part of an intricate, reciprocal relationship that is vital for all existence and should thus be maintained. One way of maintaining the interconnectedness with nature was through totems who were protected and revered. The earth and nature are honoured and respected as life-givers, as equal partners in a reciprocal relationship. My grandmother would remind us of the Kipsigis proverb that says, ‘makiyume sasur ngomoen kepet (you don’t shelter in a tree then once the rain stops you cut it)’, imploring us to consider posterity in our human relationships. In ecological contexts, the proverb implies that humans need nature, and nature requires humans for survival: hence the inevitability for harmonious coexistence.
Against this background, African eco-solidarity is an African value that is concerned not only with the natural environment but also with the social environment where human beings live (Ikeke 2022: 43). The social and natural environment dovetail into each other since the dimensions of life are interconnected and thus what affects the socio-political dimension impacts physical life. The environmental crisis should, therefore, be understood as a social and political crisis asking human beings to stand in solidarity with the earth to restore its beauty and tranquillity. Deforestation, pollution, and poaching for selfish gain are against the African value of eco-solidarity (Ikeke 2022: 46).
The inviolability and interconnectedness of life drawn from the African worldview are common to African eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity, and they are reflected in cultural values of love, care, and reverence for nature. Unfortunately, the colonisation of African indigenous knowledge systems that were considered barbaric, fetishistic, and static continues to alienate African communities from their sacred connection to nature. Eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity of most African communities have been replaced by mechanistic, Eurocentric, and capitalist views that consider nature as something to be subdued and exploited for human gain with less consideration for future generations (Ritskes 2012). Western models, like carbon credits in Africa, commodify nature. Many young people in Africa, and specifically in Kenya, have abandoned traditional taboos, customs, and rituals in favour of Christianity. Formal education teaches them Western science, which is considered modern and universal. In the spirit of ‘civilisation’, the spirituality and sacrality of nature among the Africans have been lost. Values of love, care, and reverence for nature have been replaced by individualistic and hedonistic approaches that seek gratification of human needs and greed (Ogar 2019: 119–20). African indigenous ecological spirituality and sacrality should be revisited and revived to enthuse a broader perception of life that looks again at the past, re-examines the present, and re-establishes resilience for future generations. In this article, totemism among the Kipsigis is espoused as among the invaluable indigenous cultural beliefs and practices that should be revisited to inspire an eco-spirituality that, combined with scientific and technological efforts, will enhance environmental conservation.
Totems among the Kipsigis
The Kipsigis community of Kenya belongs to the Nilotic ethnic group. It is the largest subgroup of the Kalenjin community. Available data indicates that there are over 1 million Kipsigis people representing almost half of the Kalenjin population (KNBS 2019). They occupy extensively the highlands in southwestern Kenya, mainly Kericho and Bomet Counties, though some of them are in Nakuru and Narok Counties. The Abagusii, Luo and Maasai communities are their neighbours to the west and south. The Kipsigis people speak the Kipsigis language, a dialect of Kalenjin. They practise mixed farming with tea as their main cash crop.
There are more than two-hundred exogamous patrilineal clans among the Kipsigis which serve as their descent groups. Whereas Toweett (1979: 57), one of the earliest Kipsigis educators and writers, noted that intermarriages took place between the Kipsigis and the Ogiek resulting into ortinwek (clans) like Kipcheromek, Kipsamaek, and Akyek, my grandmother indicated that Asis (God) must have found it good to allocate each clan a totem to take care of so that humans and nature could coexist. Ronoh et al. (2016: 12), corroborate my grandmother’s view, noting that through mystical revelation, each clan was allocated an animal to protect as a totem which clan members continue to respect and adore. Clans are not localised but are dispersed all over the Kipsigis lands. Clan members, among the Kipsigis, claim descent from a common paternal ancestor. A clan is known as oret (plural ortinwek), which literally means path or road. When a clan became too large, the elders would subdivide it into sub-clans to restrict the clan’s collective responsibilities. Many clans are thus recognised as being divided into a few korik (houses). My late grandfather taught us that our clan (kibomuek) has over fourteen korik such as Kapchesielek, Kapkogorek, Kapkungurwa, and Kapsokwoek, among others. My paternal family belongs to the Kapkogorek house. Some of these sub-units later became clans and share the same totem. When a woman is married, she automatically belongs to the husband’s clan (Toweett 1979: 20). My mother, though born into Kapwaibei clan, belongs to Kibomuek clan through marriage.
The term tiondo (animal) is used among the Kipsigis to refer to one’s totem regardless of whether it is an animal, plant, or celestial body. Tiondo (excluding domesticated animals) may be an insect like a bee, or a bird like an ostrich, or an animals like a lion or a gazelle, or a celestial body such as the sun. Most clans, however, have animal totems as their emblems. Totems give a sense of belonging and are symbols of identity for the clan and clan members. I have learnt through my parents and grandparents of my paternal and maternal relatives and their clan names and totems, and I visit some of them when I am upcountry for holidays or social functions. My grandmothers would tease us out about our extended clan relations to encourage us to embrace our culture and teach our children even in urban dwellings. I spent my early childhood years with my maternal grandmother who would teach us about our culture through stories, songs, and proverbs. With formal schooling, however, we would visit her only during school holidays for a limited time because we had lots of school assignments to complete over the holiday. Years later, however, I have learnt to appreciate the positive values of my culture, tapping the in-depth wisdom of my grandparents and relating it to religious and scientific aspects of modern life.
Totemic animals, objects, or plants are not to be destroyed. It was not only a taboo but also a violation of cultural and spiritual life to hurt, eat, mishandle, or kill a totemic animal. In the past, a person who killed a totem would be punished through banishment, fine, or hard labour. Young children were taught and encouraged to treat, water, and care for an injured animal. My late grandfather warned us not to eat any game meat because we may unknowingly eat our totem and cause harm to ourselves such as losing our teeth. Such punitive measures and taboos were imposed upon community members because totems represent life and the sacred continuity of the spiritual, cosmic, and physical worlds. They are understood as being part of a larger spiritual system and were thus respected and not killed unless in self-defence or to provide immediate sustenance or sacrifice. Celestial totemic objects such as the sun (Asista) for the Kipasisek clan were equally viewed as sacred and as powerful spiritual objects. Our neighbours upcountry who were from this clan were highly respected and loved as they were believed to represent Asis (God) and were well-willed. We would be encouraged to make friends with their children as Asis exudes his radiance to the earth through them.
Totems were viewed as vehicles to the spiritual world, having both visible and invisible powers. Among the Kipsigis, Kimagetiet (hyena), a totem for the Motoborik, Kapkichwenek, and Kamaeek clans, is believed to be a communication medium who brings messages from the spiritual world (Orchardson 1961: 158). The behaviour of the totem was thus closely monitored when it visited a homestead. The elders were the only ones who would interpret the messages because they were familiar with the spiritual world. It was believed that when a hyena visited a fresh grave, it had something to do with the spirit because it was expected that the spirit of a dead person would stay at the place of his dead for some days before transiting to the spiritual world. Accordingly (Orchardson 1961: 158), ‘if a child born just after the death of his father or uncle, say, receives that spirit, he will have such a name as Kimoru Kamngetuny, meaning “he did not sleep at Kamngetuny,” that is, the spirit did not stay long there, but was reincarnated at once’. Such rituals connected the living with the spiritual world through totemic animals. I followed up with my grandmother to find out whether this was in practice today and she noted that, whereas such names were unique and valued, they are rarely used today. Most Kipsigis people have embraced Christianity and thus name their children using biblical or English names as the example above is considered demonic and outmoded.
Destroying the habitats of totems was believed to cause harm to the culprits. For instance, lighting a fire in a forest or near trees inhabited by bees would anger them. The bees would harm the culprits and it would take the intervention of an elder from Kipkendek clan, whose totem is a bee, to calm the situation. Such stories have been retold through oral and written literature to warn people against destroying natural habitats. In contemporary society however, people destroy these habitats including forests without fear of such invasions due to improved technologies to address such eventualities. In indigenous societies, some people would appease an injured totem by pouring libations and uttering words seeking forgiveness from it. When one came across his/her animal totem, it was tradition to spit and ask for blessings from the totem because totems were believed to bring blessings from the spiritual world. I would hear my grandmother call out her maternal clan’s name and totemic animal whenever she was distressed to implore spiritual intervention as Christians would call on God’s name.
The spiritual connection between clan members and totemic animal inspired each clan to preserve their heritage by recognising the role of totems in their lives and teaching other generations. The belief in totems as sacred animals played a critical role in environmental conservation, particularly of wildlife. Even when hunting was practised among the Kipsigis, no clan member would be allowed to hunt its totemic animal. Disasters would befall the perpetrators of totemic crimes like being choked by meat hunted from one’s totemic animal, insanity, or death. An individual’s violation of totemic taboos was considered a serious curse to the clan lineage. It would be equated to killing a kinsman and cleansing rituals had to be conducted. I remember one time when one of my paternal uncles died through a road accident. He was knocked down by a speeding car whose driver was drunk. The driver and his clansmen had to seek exoneration from my father’s clan by paying fine in form of cattle since the curse of killing would affect the driver’s entire clan. With formal education, urbanisation, and modernity, the Kipsigis cultural heritage is being lost. Science and technology are emphasised more than history and culture. It is possible, however, to be a modern, Christianised, and educated Kipsigis while at the same time recognising the Kipsigis mystical and reverential relationship with totems as an invaluable source of knowledge that can be revisited for environmental conservation.
Implications for environmental conservation
The totem of a particular clan, among the Kipsigis, was not treated as if it was isolated from its environment. The interdependence of life forms implied that different animal and plant species should be treated with love, care, and reciprocity, knowing very well that human well-being was dependent on the environment. Consequently, taboos dictated how environmental resources were used. For instance, one would not take the main root of a plant for medicinal purposes. One was expected to keenly take the secondary roots, being careful that the tree does not dry up for future use. The duty of care that is inherent in the bonds of mutual life-giving included human care for the whole environment, thus enabling not only totemic species but the entire ecosystem to thrive. It is such a duty of care and a broader perception of totemism that should be revisited for environmental conservation in contemporary society.
Through oral history, I have learnt that the practice of totemism was extensive. My mother told me that it is a taboo for a wife, when she hails from a different clan, to hurt or kill the totem of her husband or mother-in-law because totems were viewed as part of the kindred and thus shared blood with the ancestors. Killing them was thus tantamount to hurting the community’s ancestors and would result in the death of one’s children, insanity, diseases, or disabilities. A case of mysterious deaths of children of a family friend was attributed to such mischievous acts and had to be retributed through rituals to preserve life. In this sense, it can be argued that the belief and practice of totemism contribute to preservation of humanity as it helps in the conservation of other life forms bequeathed to humankind. Such extensive conceptualisation of life ‘can help to restore the “sacred” into ecology, to inject some life force into the machine-like scientific conceptualisations of ecosystems that was once fashionable’ (Berkes 2018: 12).
How can such invaluable knowledges be revisited or revived? One way is to incorporate these knowledges in the curricula used in schools and universities. Course units like ‘African traditional religion’, taught at the University of Nairobi’s department of philosophy and religious studies, should incorporate the African indigenous forms of knowledge. The Competency-Based Curriculum (CBC), unveiled in Kenya in 2017, includes cultural and environmental aspects from pre-primary to secondary level. Education stakeholders, including parents, should embrace and utilise the system to teach cultural values and life skills to younger generations. The ‘Afrocentric’ curriculum adopted by the Children in Freedom School, Nakuru, Kenya where children are taught their culture and mother tongue languages, can be used for benchmarking (https://cifschools.com/). This gap was quite clear to me. For instance, through my postgraduate studies and research, I have appreciated African indigenous wisdom and philosophy. I have participated and learnt through seminars, workshops, research, and conferences about the significance of African socio-cultural and religious heritage for everyday existence. Young people can acquire a wealth of experiential wisdom through oral or written literature. There is a plethora of rich socio-religious and cultural wisdom untapped from grandparents and elders who are willing to share, and which can be integrated with formal learning (Kaya & Seleti 2013: 33). Though neo-colonialism and Western science consider such wisdom as static, barbaric, and inert, it is adaptable and flexible and has been acquired over a long period through observing, experiencing, and experimenting (Berkes et al. 2000). It takes individual and collective responsibility to revisit and re-establish these knowledges.
The socialisation and internalisation of virtue ethics, among the younger generations, in response to environmental concerns should be revisited. Instilling values into the younger generation about respect and care for the environment from which they may not see direct benefits now may prove a challenge. However, the desires and aspirations for a better future could thrill them. The significance of oral stories, proverbs, songs, and dances learnt from grandparents, elders, and community members should not be underestimated. Stories, like those on the clan system, need to be retold in ‘attractive’ versions as the marketing of movies, films, or music is done. I have participated in such initiatives to teach younger generations about cultural heritage by the Church through programmes such as Rites of Passage Experiences (ROPES), pioneered by urban churches in Nairobi, which ‘Christianises’ the circumcision rite of young boys and girls, addressing the spiritual, physical, social, emotional, and intellectual dimensions of manhood and womanhood. Environmental issues are being introduced into such curricula to teach the young, and the urbanised generation cultural values of love, respect, and care for humans and nature. The students participate in nature walks, environmental cleaning, and tree planting, among other activities. Young people can also attend social events in their villages to acquaint themselves with their culture. I have built and maintained contacts with my extended family through social functions like weddings, burials, and Christmas gatherings. During the burial of my late grandfather, for instance, I learnt that my father has close clan members from the neighbouring County of Bomet whom I had never met. My family web of relationships has since widened.
The mass media can also be used to impart indigenous knowledge among the younger generations. Local media stations, like the Kass FM radio, popularise programmes, such as bitet ab Kalenjin (Kalenjin’s indigenous worldview), aimed at teaching the Kalenjin communities their culture and history. The forum brings together cultural, political, religious, and academic leaders to discuss matters affecting the Kalenjin communities, like the devastating effects of climate change through drought and famine, floods, food shortages, and climate-induced conflicts like cattle rustling. Through these initiatives, riparian lands have been reclaimed to conserve water reservoirs. The younger generations should participate in these discussions and utilise their agency to address ecological concerns collectively.
Social media is a key strategy to appeal to the younger generation. Facebook pages, like the Kipsigis Renaissance and Kalenjinss Online, among others, discuss Kalenjin culture, history, and contemporary issues. I have learnt more about the Kipsigis clan system through the discussions and posts in these pages. Similarly, Kipsigis academics who are interested with Kipsigis cultural heritage have created WhatsApp groups from which I benefitted while conducting this research. The social and cultural wisdom of the community is discussed in this platform through oral narratives, written literature, and published academic works from colleagues. I got access to thick data which supplemented primary data from my parents and grandparents. Our discussions in these fora reveal that the values of Kipsigis indigenous knowledge have not been fully utilised and should be revisited and revitalised, particularly among the younger generations.
These proposed initiatives call for recontextualisation of African indigenous ecological knowledges to address different environmental issues in contemporary society. An example is the ‘Conservation Education Curriculum’ developed through a public–private partnership between the Ministries of Environment, Education, Science and Technology and Rhino Ark in Kenya (The Standard Media, Kenya). The curriculum, adopted in 2018, was tailor-made for schools bordering major water towers in Kenya, such as the Aberdare, Mt Kenya, and Mau Forests. The programme integrates water, soil, and wildlife conservation, pollution, tourism, and environment with the Competency Based Curriculum (CBC) in Kenya. It situates the different environmental issues across the major water towers. Learners in schools bordering Mt Kenya and Aberdare, for instance, are taught about tourism and endangered wildlife species and how to help preserve them, whereas those from schools bordering Mau Forest have a different contextualised syllabus. Learners in schools to the east of the Mau Forest Complex (Eburu) learn about harmful human practices like charcoal burning, logging, and hunting and how they can stop or reduce them while those to the southwest of the forest are taught about wildlife inhabiting that area, the challenges they endure, and possible ways of addressing conservation concerns. The programme has not only raised awareness among the learners and the neighbouring communities about the diverse plant and animal species who live in the forest, but also helped in restoration of the forests, as learners from over 170 schools participating in the conservation plan have raised tree nurseries, planted trees in sections of the Mau forest, and sold other trees to corporate and state agencies interested in rehabilitation of the forests.1 Through demonstrations, and oral and practical lessons, learners have also embraced water harvesting and energy saving techniques which are useful to the schools and neighbouring communities. The resourcefulness of such projects ought to be innovatively crafted and creatively utilised to tackle contextual environmental matters in other parts of Kenya.
While acknowledging that the Kipsigis indigenous ecological knowledges are not perfect and free from limitations, and neither are other knowledge systems, this article calls for a re-examination of African indigenous ecologies to draw valuable insights and positive values while being open to the benefits of modern scientific and technological innovations for environmental conservation. Furthermore, given that there is no clear distinction between the sacred and profane in the African worldview (Magesa 2013), it calls for a rediscovery of African indigenous and spiritual ecological beliefs that helped in the preservation of nature. Destroying nature, in African worldview, is tantamount to destroying life (which is sacred), as humans depend on nature. Values of love, respect, care, and gratitude to nature are universal values which do not necessarily require one to hold belief in a specific god or gods and as Maathai (2010: 3) noted, ‘we cannot place a monetary value on them: in effect, they are priceless. They define our humanity.’ These values can be lived out by humans irrespective of their religious or cultural orientations to uphold the beauty and bounty of the earth. Pluralistic and holistic approaches to environmental concerns that decolonise the attitudes, practices, and assumptions that argue for replacement of indigenous ways with ‘modern’ techniques should be promoted.
Conclusions
This article has re-examined how human connection with nature through totems, in the indigenous Kipsigis community, was not only physical but also spiritual. It was a spirit-based relationship founded on love, care, respect, and reciprocity. Protective and life-affirming rituals were conducted whenever nature was maltreated through killing or hurting of totems. Taboos acted as ecological guardians and humans upheld a sacred view of nature. The duty of care, love, and reciprocity enjoins humans to take care of the whole environment. The apparent strengths and values of African indigenous eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity should, therefore, be revisited and utilised, not to romanticise these systems, but as an invitation to re-examine how the positive values in these forms of spiritualities can be utilised in relation to other knowledge systems for environmental conservation. From an autobiographical case, this possibility has been highlighted in this article. It is possible for younger generations in Africa to acquire digital literacy and scientific skills alongside African cultural heritage to address Africa’s socio-economic and ecological concerns. African parents, educators, and religious leaders can inspire an evolved, digital, and Christian yet African generation. The environmental crisis in Africa calls for collective wisdom and action, including invaluable indigenous knowledge systems. Sacred ecology can help Africans to reconnect the past to the present and re-establish resilience for the future.
Acknowledgements
The thumbnail accompanying this article is reproduced under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license. Photograph: Patrick Shepherd/CIFOR.
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More information about the programme can accessed at https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/counties/article/2001437185/environment-now-part-of-syllabus-in-170-mau-forest-complex-schools or https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/campaigns/giantsclub/kenya/kenyan-schools-adopt-environmental-education-b2027543.html.
Cite
DOI: 10.5871/jba/012.a30
Published on: 3 September 2024
Volume: 12
Issue: Issue 3
Article view count: 108
Article download count: 18
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© The author(s) 2024. This is an open access article licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 4.0 International LicenseCite this article
Cheronoh, F. (2024), ‘Revisiting African indigenous eco-spirituality and eco-solidarity: an autobiographical case of totemism among the Kipsigis’, Journal of the British Academy, 12(3): a30 https://doi.org/10.5871/jba/012.a30Crossref
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October 2022
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May 2023
Published
July 2023
African ecologies: the value and politics of indigenous knowledges—introduction Adriaan van Klinken, Simon Manda, Damaris Parsitau, Abel Ugba
This article offers an introduction to the special section about the theme of ‘African ecologies and indigenous knowledges’. It explores the interest of scholars, policy makers and activists in indigenous knowledges as a resource for addressing global challenges, particularly the challenges in relation to the environment and climate change in contemporary Africa. Reviewing current literature and discourse on the subject, this Introduction foregrounds the considerable political, epistemological and methodological significance of indigenous knowledges, especially in the light of ongoing debates about decolonisation, and it highlights their relevance for understanding African ecologies. It further introduces the three articles included in this special section, embedding them in broader fields of scholarship. (This article is published in the thematic collection ‘African ecologies: the value and politics of indigenous knowledges’, edited by Adriaan van Klinken, Simon Manda, Damaris Parsitau and Abel Ugba.)
4 September 2024
Relational landscapes: environmental discourse and identity of the Sengwer community in Kenya King’asia Mamati
This article explores the intersection between landscape, worldview, African spiritualities and human-environment relations among the Sengwer ethnic community in Kenya. Documenting a range of indigenous knowledge expressions, the article examines narratives of landscape within the broader spectrum of environmental discourses and identity claims. It shows that among the Sengwer, cosmology and lifeworld are deeply intertwined, which recognises a multiplicity of sentient beings, only some of which are perceptible. The central figure bridging the seen and unseen worlds is the thunder deity Iilat, who shapes the moral code for the community. The Sengwer landscape not only provides them with food, medicine, water, honey, and shelter but also embodies their identity, history, memory, cultural and religious significance. Overall, the Sengwer identity is conceptualised as based on a relational knowledge that is a socially constructed process centring around the spiritual attachment to the landscape. This article therefore argues that the consideration of indigenous religious and spiritual knowledge sheds critical theoretical and practical light on African ecologies and human-environment relations. (This article is published in the thematic collection ‘African ecologies: the value and politics of indigenous knowledges’ edited by Adriaan van Klinken, Simon Manda, Damaris Parsitau and Abel Ugba .)
4 September 2024
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