“We Are Not Compensating Rocks”: Resettlement and Traditional Religious Systems

World Development Vol. 27, No. 2, pp. 271±283, 1999 Ó 1999 Elsevier Science Ltd All rights reserved. Printed in Great Britain 0305-750X/99 $ ± see front matter

PII: S0305-750X(98)00138-7

``We Are Not Compensating Rocks'': Resettlement and Traditional Religious Systems TODD M. VANDEN BERG * Calvin College, Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA Summary. Ð In this paper I examine the relationship between involuntary resettlement and traditional religious systems. I observe that development agents often ignore and/or perceive traditional religious systems as negative impacts on resettlement. I argue that the common denial by resettlement agents to compensate for the loss of traditional religious sites not only ignores the socio-cultural signi®cance of the sites but also hinders the possibility of successful resettlement, increasing social disarticulation. I argue that traditional religious systems need to be understood as potentially positive avenues that promote successful resettlement. I use a case study of the involuntary resettlement of the Longuda of Adamawa State, Nigeria, especially as related to the cirha shrine of the village of Banjiram to highlight the discussion. Ó 1999 Elsevier Science Ltd. All rights reserved.

1. INTRODUCTION In its broadest conception, development anthropology's ``objective is to enhance bene®ts and mitigate negative consequences for the human communities involved in and a€ected by development e€orts'' (Partridge and Warren, 1984, p. 1). But, beyond this understanding, consensus disintegrates regarding the particular means by which these goals should be met. Within the realm of development social sciences is the specialized area of resettlement studies, including both involuntary and voluntary, sponsored and spontaneous resettlement (Scudder, 1991, p. 154)1. Here too there is no consensus on the speci®c components involved in planning and implementing a successful resettlement project. In this paper I argue for the need of planners and implementors of resettlement projects to be sensitive to the traditional religious systems of those undergoing resettlement. A vivid demonstration of this need is seen in the speci®c example of the involuntary resettlement of the Longuda of Adamawa State, Nigeria. This case study highlights the need for explicit acknowledgment and sensitivity toward traditional religious systems by project authorities. Such sensitivity is needed not only to allow for the possibility of the maintenance of these religious structures but 271

also because socio-cultural structures of religion may be avenues through which community cohesion is maintained and successful resettlement/development is achieved. This article is based on ®eldwork conducted in Adamawa State, Nigeria in 1995. The ®eldwork was conducted under the auspices of the Savannah Project, a research project which studied the socio-economic impact the Savannah Sugar Company has had on the Adamawa region. The project was led by Dr. Phillips Stevens, Jr. of the State University of New York at Bu€alo, and Dr. Ibrahim Bashir of the University of Jos. It is signi®cant to point out that ®eldwork was conducted fully 14 years after initial resettlement. Although not a longitudinal study, the long-term assessment of Longuda resettlement acknowledges the extended length of time needed for successful resettlement to occur (see Scudder and Colson, 1982). Fourteen years has not contributed to the re-establishment of Banjiram's cirwa shrine (cirha [cirwa sing.] are village speci®c patron spirits who are believed to not only protect but also represent a village's well-being). On the contrary, over the years the people of Banjiram have maintained a bitter *

Final revision accepted: August 17, 1998.

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attitude toward the resettlement, and continue to bemoan the fate of Banjiram's cirwa shrine. 2. RESETTLEMENT Speci®c examples of development projects that can cause relocation are the construction of dams for irrigation or hydropower creating man-made lakes on previously inhabited land. Transportation corridors for roadways, railways, airports, mines, irrigation canals, ports, towns, and large factory units may also force relocation2. Resettlement occurs annually at a high rate, a€ecting a staggering amount of people around the world. Cernea has estimated that every year between 1.2 and 2.1 million people are relocated as a result of new dam construction alone (Cernea, 1991, p. 192; see also World Bank, 1996)3. The great number of people directly involved in resettlement projects underscores the need for systematic social science study of this phenomenon. Resettlement is a severe stressor, irreconcilably altering patterns of social organization. As Cernea states, ``[T]he complexity of dislocation results not from numbers alone, but from the severity of the consequences to the people affected and to the project success'' (Cernea, 1988, p. 8). Every type of social organization that binds a society is altered, including formal and informal social networks, kinship networks, economic relations between customers and suppliers, communal groups which rely on individual participation, socio-religious bonds, and ecological and geographic familiarity. These social networks of interdependency are at the heart of the problems that arise out of involuntary resettlement. (a) Impoverishment As has been amply shown throughout resettlement literature, involuntary resettlement, in various ways, frequently and signi®cantly has an adverse a€ect on resettlees. Following Cernea's conceptual model for analyzing the socioeconomic content of displacement, such impact may be broadly characterized by a trend toward impoverishment (Cernea, 1986, 1993, 1995; World Bank, 1996). Cernea describes this process as involving a movement toward landlessness, joblessness, homelessness, marginalization, food insecurity, loss of access to common property resources, increased morbidity, and social disarticulation.

Even though Cernea's eight characteristics of impoverishment are consciously meant to encompass not only economic but social and cultural impoverishment as well, most literature on impoverishment caused by resettlement deals with the economic repercussions of resettlement4. Even when the risk of social disarticulation has been studied, an economic focus has commonly prevailed. For example, when considering reconstructing resettlee livelihoods there has been a belief that improved economic conditions must exist as a precursor for improved socio-cultural conditions. Economics, however, is not the only cause of, solution to, or main characteristic of social disarticulation. Downing uses a broad description of social disarticulation when he states that when social disarticulation occurs [v]ital social networks and life-support mechanisms for families are weakened or dismantled. Authority systems are debilitated or collapse. Groups lose their capacity to self-manage. The society su€ers a demonstrable reduction in its capacity to cope with uncertainty. It becomes qualitatively less than its previous self. The people may physically persist but the community that was is no more (Downing, 1996, p. 34).

His description of social disarticulation is helpful in that it does not assume economic conditions as the only indicators of, causes of, or solutions to social disarticulation. In an effort to compensate for a general tendency of scholars to focus on the breakdown of economic relationships of social disarticulation, I will highlight in this paper, via a case study, the impoverishment e€ects on social relationships that are not, in the ®nal analysis, economically signi®cant, yet are, none the less, socio-culturally consequential. One clearly witnessed result of the social disarticulation that the Longuda in the village of Banjiram experienced was a breakdown in community cohesion. The failure to move the cirwa shrine at Banjiram not only signi®es an unfortunate insensitivity by the development agency to traditional Longuda religious systems, but also serves as a road block for the shrine to function as a source of socio-cultural glue, ®rming up the community in a time of socio-cultural stress. In this paper, I argue that a sensitivity to traditional religious systems is needed within resettlement schemes not only because it is the morally or culturally sensitive thing to do (see Cernea, 1997, p. 1570)Ðwhich may be in itself a sucient basis for this paperÐbut include the observation that such a

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sensitivity may indeed serve to decrease the general trend toward impoverishment, be it economic and/or socio-cultural. (b) Resettlement's impact on traditional religious systems Studies on the relationship between involuntary resettlement and traditional religious systems are scant. This is certainly not due to a lack of understanding of the signi®cance of the relationship between traditional religious systems and resettlement. For example, from one perspective Ð that of the impact of resettlement on the religious system of resettleesÐ Cernea has stated that ``[l]eaving behind lands, deities, and ancestors deeply a€ects both the individual and the community, and may lead to a partial breakdown of social cohesion'' (1988, pp. 15±16). The symbolic signi®cance on a people's cultural identity of making a break with links to the past such as ancestral graves, places of prayer, shrines, and other sacred places is generally understood to be signi®cant, and yet not much is published in this area. Where the relationship between traditional religious systems and resettlement are discussed in the literature common themes emerge. Often traditional religious systems are mentioned only as hindrances to resettlement. For example, the Tema resettlement scheme in Ghana was held up because the only access to the new site was via a lagoon, a taboo area for those participating in the resettlement (Amarteifo et al., 1966). Smock (1969), Scudder (1968), Colson (1971) and Wali (1989) all tell of how the traditional religious system hindered developmentÐa common theme being a fear of incurring the wrath of spirits or ancestors through moving. Another common theme centers around the process of culture change. The severe stress of resettlement is seen as an catalyst for accelerated change within the traditional cultural system (see, for example Silverman, 1971). Resettlement is the active agent while traditional religious systems are reactive. Most of the previously mentioned citations, however, do not consider the interaction of resettlement and traditional religious systems in any depth with the exception of Colson (1971). Colson's extended focus on the Gwembe Tonga religious system and their resettlement underscores the impact of resettlement on the religious system Ð culture change in the context of resettlement being the active agent in the process. Colson includes in her discussion of

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the Gwembe Tonga religious system the cult of the shades, basangu rituals (the earth cult), the cult of God, possession, healing and sorcery. She points out that depending upon who has control over a particular aspect of the traditional religious system, the impetus to continue the component after the resettlement may vary from one group of people to the next. For example, young men initially after the resettlement preferred not to support the cult of the shades, since the cult was used as a mechanism whereby senior men had authority on issues of lineage over the younger (Colson, 1971, p. 214). Others let earth rituals fall away because they were perceived as hindering independent, successful planting of crops (p. 232). She highlights the complexity of the interaction between resettlement and socio-cultural systemsÐin this case the religious system. As just shown, the vast majority that has been written on involuntary resettlement and traditional religious systems has focused on the impact of resettlement on traditional religious systems or has focused on the negative impact of traditional religious systems on resettlement. This is not the whole story, however, traditional religious systems may in fact be avenues that support and reduce impoverishment and increase the potential for successful development. (c) Compensation and traditional religious systems When assessments for compensation are made in projects that involve involuntary resettlement, religious institutions that maintain churches, mosques, and temples are routinely included. Although the compensation may not adequately cover the loss, the fact that a loss of such facilities has occurred is readily acknowledged by the resettlement agency. In the case of traditional religious systems, however, there may never be an acknowledgment of loss, let alone any compensation. Thus the systems may have an even greater diculty in maintaining themselves. In some sense the historical lack of attention given to traditional religious systems is understandable. Traditional religious systems often do not have formalized meeting facilities. Instead, a signi®cant site of a traditional religious system may be something like a sacred grove, but unless, for example, the grove consists of economic trees, there will typically be no compensation forthcoming from any resettlement

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agency. Other religious sites such as sacred rocks or hills are also rarely, if ever, compensated for5. As is apparent, the nature of traditional religious systems often does not allow for easy assessment and ultimately compensation by resettlement agencies. But other factors are also involved in the lack of compensation for traditional religious sites. Often, resettlement representatives do not come into direct contact with traditional religious leaders who would act as advocates for the traditional religious system. Rather, community leaders who come in contact with the resettlement authorities are often persons who Ð although they may honor the traditional religious system Ð do not participate in the traditional religious system. Community leaders may not be strong advocates of the traditional religious system when other matters such as land allotments and compound size tend to take center stage. Another contributing factor to the neglect of the traditional religious systems of people involved in resettlement is the pervasive attitude by many development agents that perceive traditional religious systems asÐalthough, interesting cultural artifactsÐinsigni®cant components to resettlement communities. Such attitudes have historical underpinnings found embedded in resettlement projects and more generally in development projects6. What follows is a case study of the involuntary resettlement of the Longuda of Adamawa State, Nigeria. In particular, I will discuss the impact of the resettlement on the Longuda belief in the cirha Ð village speci®c patron spirits. 3. LONGUDA The Longuda live in northwestern Adamawa State which is located in northeastern Nigeria along the Nigeria and Cameroon border (see Figure 1). Their southern territory begins approximately 30 kilometers north of the con¯uence of the Gongola and Benue Rivers with the northern territory ending approximately 60 kilometers north of the southern border. The eastern border of Longudaland runs along the Gongola River with the western border generally paralleling a set of hills which bear the Longuda name. Longuda are predominantly subsistence farmers with an estimated population of approximately 30,000. Limited ethnographic data have been collected on the Longuda7.

4. SAVANNAH SUGAR COMPANY In 1981, 11 Longuda villages (Mada, Purakayo, Banjiram, Gunda, Jumbul, Kiri, Dugu, Kwadadai, Lakumna, Shelleng, Gugu) were resettled due the damming of the Gongola River (see Figure 2). The lake formed by the damming of the river was to provide an irrigation supply for the Savannah Sugar CompanyÐa large, government-initiated sugarcane plantation. The Savannah Sugar Company is located on the north bank of the Benue River, just west of the con¯uence of the Benue and Gongola Rivers with coordinates between 9 32' and 9 40' north and 11 49' and 12 00' east. The plans for building the company were initiated by the federal government of Nigeria and the Commonwealth Development Corporation in the early 1970s. Initial construction suggestions were to build a dam on the Gongola River at Kiri, an irrigation distribution system with 13,365 hectares of irrigated land, a sugar mill, a storage facility, a cubing plant, housing for employees, oces, and workshops for the factory dwellings. In the initial plans, 27,000 hectares of land were to be converted into the growing and processing of sugar cane. Initial projections suggested that 100,000 metric tons of re®ned sugar would be produced annually (Savannah Sugar Company, 1973). The goal of the project was to reduce sugar imports to Nigeria and it was estimated at the time of planning that, at full production, the Savannah Sugar Company could provide for approximately one-third of the annual consumption of sugar in Nigeria. The project would contribute to Nigerian selfsuciency in sugar purchases, employ 7,000 Nigerians, produce secondary e€ects such as improvements in local commerce, and provide training for approximately 1,105 skilled cane farmers and approximately 800 cane cutters who would be employed six months out of the year. In the early 1970s the Savannah Sugar Company began construction of the estate, factory, company town, and the irrigation system ¯owing from the Kiri Dam on the Gongola River. The Kiri Dam, the source for the irrigation system, would create a lake approximately 37 km long by 4±7 km wide, and would provide storage for 126,500 mega liters of water. The lake formed by the dam would inundate approximately 8,000 hectares of the Gongola ¯ood plain. The dam went under

RESETTLEMENT AND TRADITIONAL RELIGIOUS SYSTEMS

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Figure 1. Map of Guyuk local government.

construction in 1978; in 1979 factory construction was completed. These were the initial plans of the project. Government funds were slowed, however and the Savannah Sugar Company quickly fell short of estimated goals in hectares irrigated, hectares used, and sugar produced (Table 1). In 1983 the Commonwealth Development Corporation's administrative role was terminated, which lead to a complete shut-down of sugar production in the 1983±84 season. With the loss of the involvement of the Commonwealth Development Corporation, the Company has been maintained through 75% Federal and 25% State ownership. Since the 1984±85 season, production has steadily risen (Song, 1987) resulting in a annual rate of approximately 20,000 metric tons of re®ned sugar produced over the past four years.

In 1994 the Savannah Sugar Company became involved with the African Development Bank. The bank is funding a ®ve-year project of 75 million US dollars from which annual outputs will ostensibly be increased. Stipulated as a prerequisite for funding, the bank has assigned 11 specialists in the ®eld of sugar cane production to assist the Savannah Sugar Company in increasing yields. The goal of the of the African Development Bank through its funding is to increase crop yields through two main projects. First, 1,500 new hectares will be cultivated. Second, 5,000 hectares already in use will be redeveloped. This consists of regrading the ®elds to increase even irrigation. These are the speci®c goals related to funding by the African Development Bank, but in practical purposes, other areas of manufacture also need drastic improvements if

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Figure 2. Nigeria.

increased yields are to be obtained. For example, the near 50% employee absentee rate can most assuredly be considered a hindrance to increasing yields8. 5. LONGUDA RESETTLEMENT When the Kiri lake was created, eleven Longuda villages were forced to relocate. In Table 1. Savannah Sugar Company Production Statistics (Metric Tons of Re®ned Sugar), 1991±94 1991

21,500 tons

1992 1993 1994

19,500 tons 18,300 tons 20,000 tons a

a

projected tons. Source: personal communication with a representative of the African Development Bank.

1978±79 an elaborate resettlement program was designed to allow for systematic resettlement and compensation for the relocated Longuda. In 1980±81 the Kiri Dam was completed and the relocation rapidly undertaken. As with the sugar cane production estimates, the resettlement project goals and expected outcomes have also been quite di€erent from what actually has occurred. Initially, resettled villages were to be granted particular compensations such as wells, electricity, medical clinics, schools, post oces, banks, churches/mosques, and more. These however have not all been provided. 6. RESETTLEMENT AND COMPENSATION The result of the involuntary resettlement is unfortunately typical of many resettlement projects. The planning was poor, the compensations given were inadequate, and the move was poorly handled. Stories of how

RESETTLEMENT AND TRADITIONAL RELIGIOUS SYSTEMS

Longuda ¯ed their villages for safety as the water levels rose, lapping at their feet, are common. In the end, those who resettled were generally worse o€ than prior to the moveÐ impoverished. Those who were to be resettled were given the option to choose, as a unit, compensation in kind or monetary compensation. Monetary compensation was chosen, resulting in fairly predictable problems associated with such compensation. Even before the resettlement occurred claims were made that inadequate compensation was given. Other informants argued that the compensation given to people was never used for its intended purpose. One informant stated that ``The people did not utilize the compensation given to them to go and resettle properly.'' Instead some people began ``roaming from one market to another. . .making unnecessary visits, drinking, and some even marrying new wives, forgetting that this Naira has been given to them to go and settle somewhere properly.'' Savannah Sugar Company representatives claimed that some people used their compensation to build permanent residences on the land that they were expected to leave. More recently, Savannah Sugar Company representatives raised accusations that people had moved into previously vacated Savannah Sugar Company land, and were requesting compensation in order to leave. They argued that the rightful owners of the land had already been compensated and had vacated the land during the time of the resettlement. Those living on the land had only recently moved and had no right to be there9. During my ®eldwork the issue of inadequate compensation was the ®rst one raised when discussing the resettlement. Some informants were still holding out hope that additional compensation would still be coming to them. At the time of resettlement in 1981, adequate compensation was for be given for standard items such as land, compounds, and fruit trees. Other items were not deemed to merit compensation. One such item involved traditional Longuda religious sites. 7. CIRWA One component to Longuda traditional religious beliefs is the cirha. Longuda understand a cirwa (cirha, pl.) to be a patron spirit that

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protects villages. Cirha are village speci®c, only protecting the village in which they reside. They are not considered evil and in need of appeasement through sacri®ces or o€erings, but rather they are believed to be good. The sacri®ces and o€erings given to the cirha are meant to be symbols of gratitude to the cirha. Every Longuda village has at least one cirwa shrine, but some villages have more than one cirha. Guyuk, for example, the largest Longuda village, has two cirha shrines, located in the wards of Kcna and Ladimin. The origin of the belief in cirha is not clear. One Longuda story explains that a large stone emerged from the ground where a Longuda man had been buried10. The man was believed to have special powers shown in that he was able to push the stone up from the ground. As a result, sacri®ces were made at the grave/stone site and thus the cirwa shrine was established. Others argue that a man while in the bush met a cirwa. This Longuda man realized its importance and took the cirwa home and made a shrine. The former story shows the development of a Longuda hero to god status, while the latter seems explains the cirwa as a good bush spirit. Generally, Longuda do not consider bush spirits to be good but rather evil or at best capricious. Cirha are not typical bush spirits in this sense and so patron spirit may be the best description of cirha. Cirha shrines are maintained by cirha priests who are selected from speci®c clans.11 Cirha priests' responsibilities are to maintain the shrine and make sacri®ces to the shrine at the appropriate times. The priest's dreams are also used as the medium through which the cirwa can communicate to the village. Although o€erings are often made during village-speci®c festivals, there is no set schedule for sacri®cing or making o€erings to the cirha. Rather, o€erings are made when village problems occur or when it is believed that the cirwa has called for the village's attention. The cirwa may give a warning that there is, for example, an epidemic coming to the village. This warning may occur in two ways. First, the priest of the cirwa shrine may have a dream which has been inspired by the cirwa. Through the dream the cirwa's warning will be explained. Second, the cirwa may also reveal its warning by coming out at night and crying throughout the village. The cries of the cirwa will then be explained by the priest of the shrine. This usually occurs the next day when the bilama (village chief priest, bilamaha pl.)

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comes to the cirwa shrine and inquires of the cirwa priest the meaning of the cries. After receiving the message from the cirwa priest, the bilama will then alert the village to the problem. The cirwa is believed to be concerned with the general well-being of a village, but it is speci®cally concerned with epidemics and warfare. Traditionally, a village would go to war only if the cirwa had given its support. If war was imminent, would-be warriors came before the shrine and had a speci®c kind of red dirt rubbed on their arms. If the red color showed up on the arm, the warrior could go into battle. But if the red did not show up on the arm, it was believed that the warrior should stay back, for if he were to go into battle he would die. In this sense, a cirwa may be considered an oracle. The forms that an o€ering or sacri®ce are made may vary from one shrine to the next. At one of the shrines in Guyuk, when an epidemic is believed to have come into the village, preparations are made in the anticipation that the cirwa and the yimla (evil bush spirit, yima pl.) that have caused the epidemic will come together and battle each other. A goat or a rooster (giramka; giramtha, pl.) is slaughtered at the shrine, and then the meat is prepared and left at the shrine. Whips are then placed next to the meat. The bilama will then make an announcement to the village that in the evening that no one should be outside, all should remain in their compounds. This is requested because it is believed that in the evening, the cirwa and the yimla will eat the meat which has been prepared at the shrine and then pick up the whips and do battle. This is a practice that is speci®c to Guyuk; worshipers at other village cirwa shrines practice their own village-speci®c rituals. The strength of the village is understood in relationship to the strength of the village cirwa. Cirha not only protect villages from warfare or epidemics, but for the Longuda they are also symbols of a village's vitality. 8. RESETTLEMENT AND THE CIRWA The involuntary resettlement of the 11 Longuda villages put a strain on village relationships to the cirha shrines. Prior to the resettlement, Banjiram was the second largest Longuda village, second only to Guyuk. Banjiram boasted the largest market in the area and had a very successful cooperative shop, police quarters, motor park, and a well-established

boarding school. Today, the market is barely functional; the school, police quarters, motor park, and cooperative shop no longer exist, having never been rebuilt on the New Banjiram site. Complaints concerning a lack of compensation for compounds, lack of electricity, as well as other promises made but never kept remain common in Banjiram. New Banjiram has been laid out in a familiar grid pattern that is much di€erent than the meandering paths found in traditional villages. The community feel of traditional villages has been lost at New Banjiram. This loss is recognized and regretted by those living in New Banjiram and is tangible for visitors who are familiar with traditional Longuda villages. This is not to say, however, that the resettlement has had no positive e€ects on the village. All of the Longuda villages involved in the resettlement, including Banjiram, are now closer to the Numan-Biu roadÐa main transportation artery in the area. It is now much easier to get crops to other villages or towns. In addition, transportation is much more available from one village to the next. Taken as a whole, however, the resettlement for Banjiram has not been successful. During the resettlement of Banjiram, there were particular diculties concerning e€orts to move the cirwa shrine. Other traditional religious shrinesÐparticularly personal shrines (e.g., kwandalwa12)Ðwere quite easily moved to the New Banjiram site. These shrines are not often associated with speci®c geographic locations, but rather are moved to whatever compound the owner lives in. Individuals commonly move from one compound to another and there exists a set protocol of necessary o€erings and sacri®ces which should be made in order to move personal shrines. The case of community shrines such as the cirwa, however, is quite di€erent. Villages do not move from one location to another with the frequency that individuals move from one compound to another. As a result there was no standard set of procedures that the priest of the cirwa shrine in Banjiram could fall back on in order to proceed with moving the cirwa to New Banjiram. In the past when villages have moved to new location the cirha shrines have been maintained at the original sites. For example, the present location of Guyuk is at the base of the hills on which Guyuk had formally been located. Due to diculties in acquiring water, and due to lack of available land, the village gradually

RESETTLEMENT AND TRADITIONAL RELIGIOUS SYSTEMS

moved down from the hills to its present location at some time in the 1960s. The cirha shrines, however, were not moved down to the new location. They continue to be maintained at the village's former location. The nature of the Guyuk move did not dictate destroying the shrine's locations, so they continue to be maintained at the original sites. This situation has also occurred in several of the resettled villages. The formation of the lake forced the village to move to a new location, but not all of the old village sites were completely submerged. Purakayo's cirwa shrine, for example, was not submerged and so the shrine is maintained on the original site. The cirwa shrine at Old Banjiram, however, was inundated by water, denying any hope of servicing the cirwa at the original location. If the shrine was to be maintained, then moving the shrine was necessary. To do this on an ideological level, certain standards needed to be altered. The location is part of what makes the site religiously signi®cant, and only a certain amount of philosophical and cosmological bending of the rules will allow for such a move to occur. The elders of Banjiram and the cirwa priest concluded that the signi®cance of the shrine was not so much based on the geographic location but rather on the sacred stone of the shrine. This perspective allowed for the potential of having the shrine moved to New Banjiram. To accomplish the move of the shrine to New Banjiram sacri®ces would need to be made. These sacri®ces would need to be signi®cant, since moving a cirwa shrine to a new location was no small matter. It was decided by the cirwa priest and elders that a bull needed to be sacri®ced in order to successfully accomplish the move. It is at this point that the compensation matter became signi®cant. When the resettlement representatives came to Banjiram to make compensation assessments, they were shown the cirwa shrine. Their response, as one informant told me, was ``We are not compensating rocks.'' Cirwa shrines do not consist of any materials that are commonly compensated for by resettlement authorities. The location is sacred, and the stones are sacred, but there are no huts or other buildings associated with the shrines. William Dathini is a Hakimi (Hausa title for a district head [one of seven]) living in Banjiram and was involved in the latter stages of the resettlement. He realized that no compensation was to be given to the village for the cirwa shrine and suggested to the cirwa priest that a

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hut be built on the shrine site or that economic trees be planted on the site. Compensation could then be given to the shrine site. The priest declined and did not receive compensation for the shrine. Because compensation would not be given for the site, other e€orts were made to receive the Naira needed for the shrine be moved. At the time of the Simterike festival in which offerings were traditionally made to the cirwa shrine at Banjiram, Dathini invited local TV representatives to the site to witness the last time the festival would be held at the Old Banjiram site. Naira were collected during the festival in the hopes of using the money in order to move the cirwa shrine to the new location. Land was set aside on the new site next to the kwandi's compound in anticipation for the move. Unfortunately, the Naira collected never made it to the priest of the shrine and thus the move of the cirwa shrine from Old to New Banjiram never occurred13. There are a number of factors which contributed to the failure of the relocation of the cirwa shrine at Banjiram. The ®rst factor concerns the general lack of awareness of the signi®cance of traditional religious sites by the resettlement agents. There was no understanding on the part of the resettlement authorities that the cirwa priest of Banjiram was not asking for compensation in order to go out and purchase better ``stones'' for the shrine, but rather his request for compensation re¯ected the need to make the proper sacri®ces in order for the relocation to successfully occur. A bull was needed to be sacri®ced before the relocation could occurÐthis meant that the priest needed a signi®cant amount of Naira. If the resettlement authorities had acknowledged the need to compensate the cirwa priest for the move, no talk of hut building or of planting economic trees on the cirwa shrine site in the hopes of receiving compensation would have taken place. Nor would there have been the need to attempt to collect Naira from individuals at the Simterike festival. From a resettlement authority standpoint, problems may arise when compensation for traditional religious sites is given consideration. It is possible that unscrupulous individuals may request compensation for ®ctitious ``sacred'' sites. Yet, this potential problem for resettlement representatives should not preclude an acknowledgment of the need to compensate legitimate traditional religious sites. Traditional religious sites do merit

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compensation; the cirwa shrine at Banjiram was one such site. Another factor that contributed to the failure to relocate the cirwa shrine involves the cirwa priest. It seems that the priest did not take his responsibility to the shrine as seriously as he perhaps should have. I interviewed a man who claims to have been asked by the cirwa priest to move the cirwa stone himself. The man informed the priest that this was his responsibility, but the priest ignored the man. This story underscores the severe stress that involuntary resettlement has on people. The responsibilities of the priest toward his own resettlement took precedence over his responsibilities toward the shrine and the community. With no support forthcoming from the resettlement authority for compensation for the loss of the cirwa shrine, the priest did not pursue the matter, instead spending his time on personal resettlement matters. Community members did the same thing. The priest should never have needed to pursue the matter with the resettlement agency. The compensation should have been forthcoming. Since the move to New Banjiram, e€orts have been made to locate the submerged cirwa stone, but these e€orts have failed. In the early 1990s one e€ort was made to move the cirwa to New Banjiram by building a new shrine and making a sacri®ce on the shrine, but this e€ort has also failed14. Today there is no active cirwa priest and the plot of land set aside in New Banjiram for the cirwa shrine stands empty. Since resettlement, drought, illness, and other New Banjiram problems have been attributed to the loss of the cirwa shrine15. 9. SUMMARY The frustrations involved in the failure to move the cirwa shrine to New Banjiram is an example of how traditional religious systems are commonly mistreated in resettlement projects. The diculties involving the cirwa shrine at Banjiram also re¯ects the failure of the people of Old Banjiram to successfully move to the new site. By not seeing the Banjiram cirwa shrine as meriting compensation, the resettlement authority dealt a serious blow to Longuda corporate concepts of self, increasing social disarticulation. For those Longuda that live in New Banjiram, the repercussions are felt today. During the Longuda resettlement of BanjiramÐat a time when community cohesion

needs to be supportedÐthe moving of the cirwa shrine to New Banjiram could have contributed to a positive community maintenance. Unfortunately, the opportunity was lost. Instead, the failure to move the shrine has become a symbol of the negative impact of resettlement for the Longuda of New Banjiram. Many Longuda argue that resettlement problems were inevitable speci®cally because of the unsuccessful effort to move the cirwa shrine to the New Banjiram. How can a village prosper if it has no patron spirit? It needs to be pointed out that I am not supporting the notion that for social disarticulation to be reduced all aspects of a traditional religious system must be successfully maintained over time in the resettled community. On the contrary, there is evidence that those who resettle may use the resettlement as an opportunity whereby some aspects of the traditional religious system are thrown o€ either for a time (see Colson, 1971) or permanently (see Fernea and Fernea, 1991). I am arguing, however, that for resettlement projects to attempt to reduce impoverishment and enhance potential for development, conscious sensitivity to traditional religious systemsÐas understood to be components of social cohesion and identityÐmust be included in the resettlement process. Future development projects that involve involuntary resettlement need to view traditional religious systems not as hindrances to development but rather as potential avenues whereby community cohesion and ultimately successful development projects may be supported. Such sensitivity by development authorities will enhance the project as well as the integrity of the cultural system of those experiencing resettlement. Support of such a stance was taken in 1992 by OECD countries concerning projects that cause population displacement. This OECD policy states that ``[t]he cultural and psychological acceptability of a resettlement plan can be increased by. . .retaining access to cultural property (temples, pilgrimage centres, etc.) if necessary, through the relocation of that property'' (OECD, 1992, p. 13). Traditional religious sites should be understood to be included as ``cultural property'' in this policy guideline and other donor agencies should make such a policy explicitly clear in their guidelines also. If such a policy statement is made explicit and incorporated into projects, the Banjiram cirwa incident could become the exception rather than the norm.

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NOTES 1. Spontaneous resettlement refers to the movement of individuals or family units to areas that family members believe may have certain positive attributes for settlement without any support or permission from a development agency. 2. Resettlement issues are directly related to refugee issues resulting from wars, natural disasters, etc. See Hansen and Oliver-Smith (1982); Harrel-Bond (1986); Cernea (1990) for comparisons of resettlement due to development and relocation due to wars/natural disasters. 3. For considerations of resettlement due to dam construction in African countries see: Chambers (1970) (Ghana); Colson (1971) Scudder (1972) (Zambia); Fahim (1983) (Egypt); Salem-Murdock (1989) (Sudan); Visser (1970) (Nigeria). For Latin American countries see: Aspelin and Santos (1981); Bartolom'e and Barabas (1973); Goodland (1978) (Brazil); Doughty (1972) (Peru); Partridge, Brown and Nugent, 1982; Polman, 1964 (Mexico); Wali, 1989 (Panama). For Asian and Paci®c countries see: Drucker, 1983; Goldsmith and Hildyard, 1984; Pardy, 1978 (Philippines); Pardy, 1978 (Papua New Guinea); Varna, 1987 (India). 4. Cernea argues that social disarticulation is among the least addressed facets of impoverishment and the attempt at reconstruction of livelihoods of resettlees (Cernea, 1997, p. 1581). 5. The Volta dam scheme included in its resettlement budget funds that were to be used for food and drink to placate the spirits of shrines that had to be relocated (Volta River Authority, 1965, pp. 52±53). 6. At this point the discussion could be broadened to include the signi®cance of religious beliefs as perceived by scholars since the scienti®c revolution. Although project planners and implementors are necessarily in¯uenced by the historical context in which their perceptions are formed, this broader discussion on the topic of religion will not be considered here. 7. See Temple, 1965[1919]; Meek, 1931; Nissen, 1968; Kirk-Green, 1958; and more recently Vanden Berg, 1996). 8. Personal communication with a member of the consulting team. 9. A compensation committee was formed in 1993 by the Savannah Sugar Company in order to address the

compensation complaints. The committee was not formed, however, in order to correct perceived injustices done to resettlement victims. Rather, the committee was formed with the goal of freeing up land that squatters had settled on which belonged to the Savannah Sugar Company. Such squatters have prevented the Savannah Sugar Company from using portions of their land for sugar cane planting. Minutes from one 1993 committee meeting stated that ``it was therefore important that the issue of compensation is treated, once and for all, to enable the company [to] expand without any hindrance'' (Minutes of Second Meeting of Savannah Sugar Company Compensation Committee, July 15, Savannah Sugar Company, 1993). At the time of this meeting, three sites were in dispute covering areas which involved the Guyuk Local Government (Boskiri), Shelleng Local Government (Kem), and the Numan Local Government (Opalo). The issue of obtaining historical documents on the resettlement has been a considerable problem. Records that do exist are scattered over many bureaucratic levels from local to state to federal as well as over speci®c departments within each level. Moreover, the records that have been found are woefully lacking in any degree of speci®c data. Much that should have been documented at the time of the resettlement was not. Committee minutes are full of statements that re¯ect the diculty in ®nding documents; ``Could not lay hands on any document relating to compensation on the Savannah Sugar Company project in spite of going through relevant ®les'' or The ministry could not produce said documents (Minutes of Second Meeting of Savannah Sugar Company Compensation Committee, July 15, Savannah Sugar Company, 1993). The issue of obtaining the records relating to compensation has been nicely summarized by John I. Yakya. He states that The issue of compensation was bedeviled almost from the start because of inadequate records which gave rise to multiple claims, counter claims, inaccurate assessments and so on. The fact that di€erent authoritiesÐe.g., the District oces, Numan Provincial oce, Yola, Borno and Gongola State Governments and lately the Upper Benue River Basin Rural Development AuthorityÐ[who were involved in the issue] did not help matters much (Yakya, 1989). This inability to obtain pertinent ®les, coupled with the fact that many important records concerning compensations given were never kept, forced the compensation committee to conclude its e€orts by stating that ``our brief committee summary is lacking in information of any depth and...the goal of a permanent summary is impossible at this point.'' Simply put, the committee

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could not ®nd enough records regarding compensation to allow them to make any recommendations. 10. As Phillips Stevens has pointed out in a personal communication, the belief in the miraculous appearance of a stone monolith at the site of the fall of a cultural hero is common among societies in Adamawa. 11. Cirha priests are always male. The only traditional religious position that is occupied by women is the position of cauniba (cauniya, pl.). This is an untitled religious position closely associated with kwandalha (kwandalwa, pl.) Ð see note 12. 12. Kwandalwa are gods that are believed to cause illnesses. Shrines, also called kwandalwa, may be con-

structed on which sacri®ces/o€erings are made. It is believed that such e€orts appease the Kwandalwa and so the Kwandalwa take the illness away. 13. The ``lost'' Naira is a point of tension for many in New Banjiram still today. 14. This e€ort did not seem to have the support of the community. Only a few elders seemed interested in building a new shrine. 15. Some of the community problems associated with the loss of the cirwa shrine were never previously associated with the cirwa.

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