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Solution Manual for Law and Business Administration

in Canada Canadian 13th Edition Smyth Soberman


Easson McGill 0132604795 9780132604796
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CHAPTER 6

FORMATION OF A CONTRACT: CONSIDERATION AND INTENTION


Placing the requirement of consideration in its historical setting should help to explain the
criticisms made of its sometimes rigid application in modern situations. To require
consideration in order to make an agreement legally binding is to insist that it must have
the qualities of a bargain. The emphasis on the need for a bargain has its roots in
nineteenth century England. Consideration was viewed as central to bargains and as
encouraging commerce by providing a sure legal test for binding commercial
relationships. The definition of consideration illustrates this emphasis: the price paid (or
the sacrifice made) by the promisee in return for the promise of the promisor. (Source p.
135)

EQUITABLE ESTOPPEL (Source p. 142)


The law of contracts has gradually evolved in response to changing values and economic
conditions. The doctrine of injurious reliance (or promissory or equitable estoppel) can
best be explained as a modification in some circumstances of the rule requiring
consideration. However, the courts have not been willing to abandon the requirement of
consideration entirely and it remains an essential ingredient in the law of contracts.

RELATION BETWEEEN EXISTING LEGAL DUTY AND CONSIDERATION


(Source p. 139)
A common situation where the requirement of consideration is questioned arises when
one party proposes, and the other party agrees, to a change in an existing contract. The
change imposes an added burden on the other party without the first party offering any
new consideration for it. Can such a change ever be binding, and if so, under what
circumstances? United States courts have been prepared to waive the requirement of
consideration where the change appears to be acceptable and fair to the party agreeing to
an increased obligation. English and Canadian courts have been more reluctant to
recognize post agreement changes without consideration. To find consideration, we must
examine the facts at the time of making a bargain, and not later with the benefit of
hindsight. If the parties make a bargain in good faith, one to pay a sum in settlement of a
dispute and the other to surrender a right to sue, consideration is determined in light of
the information available to the parties at that time. Subsequent information to the effect
that, the original action would not have succeeded does not have any retroactive effect in
determining whether there was consideration; this recognizes the need for certainty in
business.

INTENTION TO CREATE LEGAL RELATIONS (Source p. 148)


Many students have a difficult time wrapping their heads around this legal principle.
Students will often ignore it altogether, or assume that any agreement between friends or
family automatically creates a situation where no contract is formed. It is often good to

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create fictional situations where the principle applies. For example, a woman is the
owner of a successful business. Her mother asks her to get her brother a job. The woman
“hires” her brother to do some menial task around her business and pays him a small
stipend each week. Is there a contract of employment? Was there an intention to create
legal relations? Compare that to the similar situation where the woman of the successful
business is looking for a web designer and hires her brother as a qualified candidate;
places him on the payroll; and supplies him with office space to work.

STRATEGIES TO MANAGE THE LEGAL RISKS (Source p. 150)


This part looks at how businesses are specifically dealing with some of the legal concerns
surrounding consideration and the intention to create legally binding relationships.

ETHICAL ISSUE (Source p. 138)


PROMISES

This issue raises questions related to the values of trustworthiness, fairness, respect,
and caring.

Question 1 - This question asks students to consider what difficulties may arise when
evaluating a motive. Motives are subjective, which could be very difficult to prove.
Further, even if there is proof of the motive, who is to say whether a motive is good or
bad? Value judgments are subjective. Judges may be hesitant to make such
determinations. Another aspect to consider is how would a court determine the motive of
a corporation? Is it the motive of the shareholders? The board of directors or the
directing mind?
Question 2 - This question asks whether moral cause will generate fairer outcomes than
the standard of consideration. One could argue that it is not an appropriate standard as a
result of the difficulties that arise in determining what the motive is and whether it is
appropriate. On the other hand, it could be argued that consideration as a standard is
arbitrary since courts do not assess any assessment of the adequacy of the consideration.
It does not even attempt to determine if the deal is fair.

INTERNATIONAL ISSUE (Source p. 145)


WILL INJURIOUS RELIANCE BE ADOPTED BY THE CANADIAN COURTS?

Question 1 - This issue provides an opportunity to discuss the respective merits and
demerits of the traditional Anglo-Canadian position on consideration and injurious
reliance as opposed to the more radical American view.

Neither system allows for the enforcement of a gratuitous promise as such. The American
position does allow a promisee to sue if he has relied on the promise and has done so to
his own detriment. In one sense, the promise can be said to have been the cause of the

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loss. (There is some similarity here with the liability in tort for a negligent
misstatement.)

By contrast, Canadian courts restrict the injurious reliance principle to cases where a legal
relationship already exists between the parties. The principle of equitable estoppel can be
used only as a defence by the promisee. In Hepburn v. Jannock Limited an employee
sought to enforce a promise to provide a thirty-six month pension benefit that was not
included in the written employment agreement. The court rectified the agreement to add
the term but went on to say that it would have allowed the claim in any event
based on promissory estoppel. Although clearly obiter, it appears to fly in the face of the
“only a defence” principle.

Most students would probably agree with the outcome of the Hughes case (Case 6.4 at p.
143) but should the courts go further? Is a person entitled to rely on a gratuitous promise,
as opposed to a binding contract? Does he take a risk upon himself if he changes his
position as a result? The Canadian courts are likely reluctant to adopt the principle of
injurious reliance as it would make almost all promises binding on the promisor
regardless of intent or any consideration to the promisor.

Question 2 – Students need to analyze the comparisons between the two systems and
consider the merits of each position. Fairness is a principle of equity, but in each case
there is unfairness to either party. Should the person who relied on a gratuitous promise
suffer a loss as a result? Or should the person who makes a casual promise bear a loss,
because the other party chose to rely on it?

QUESTIONS FOR REVIEW

1. The requirement is that the promisee give something in return, not that the promisor
receive a benefit. The example at Illustration 6.1 shows that where the promisee
refrains from suing a third person provides the needed consideration for the
promisor’s undertaking to pay the debt. (Source p. 135)

2. The charity may have agreed to undertake some new activity or to incur some
expense in return for the promise of a donation. If so, it has given consideration.
(Source p. 136)

3. The consideration given for the promise must have some value, but the court does not
inquire as to the adequacy of that consideration. In the absence of fraud, the promise
to pay one penny is sufficient to make the contract valid. (Source p. 136)

4. When one party, A gives up its right to sue in exchange for a payment from the other
party, B, both are bound by the settlement. As a matter of public policy it does not
matter that A would likely have lost in court; it is important to encourage such
settlements and decrease the burden on the courts. (Source p. 137)

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5. The promisor’s reason for making the promise is irrelevant – whether it be gratitude,
affection, or a sense of moral obligation. (Source p. 138)

6. A creditor may actually find it advantageous to offer to settle a debt for a lesser sum
than is legally due, but since the debtor provides no new consideration, the creditor is
not bound by the promise to settle for less. This rule is avoided when: (1) the debtor
delivers an item of nominal value to the creditor in return for the creditor's promise;
or (2) the creditor makes its promise to accept the lesser sum under its seal; (3) the
lesser payment is made by a third party; or (4) the legislature enacts a statute stating
that the debt is extinguished once the lesser sum is paid. (Source pp. 141-142)

7. The rule in Foakes v. Beer has been modified by statute in five provinces. Under any
of those acts, if a creditor agrees to accept part performance (that is, a lesser sum of
money) in settlement of a debt, it is bound once it has accepted this part performance.
(Source p. 142)

8. “Injurious reliance” places the emphasis on the reasonableness of the promisee’s


conduct; that is, if he relied reasonably on the promise and suffered a loss as a result
the court concentrates on the unfairness of denying him a remedy. In contrast,
“equitable estoppel” appears more concerned with the conduct of the promisor—
rather than the harm it caused to the other party. (Source p. 145)

9. The Hughes case illustrates the classic situation in which equitable estoppel arises:
(1) some form of legal relationship already exists between the parties
(2) one of the parties promises (perhaps by implication only) to release the other
from some or all of the other’s legal duties to him; and
(3) the other party in reliance on that promise alters his conduct in a way that would
make it a real hardship if the promisor could renege on his promise. (Source p.
144)

10. It remains uncertain how far our Canadian courts will go. In Conwest, there was a
prior existing relationship under the option agreement. Suppose instead there had only
been a promise to extend an offer for a week; A had relied heavily on the extension
investing money in a project, but had not paid for an option. Thus far it is very
uncertain that our courts will find such a promise binding. (Source p. 144)

11. When one person requests the services of another and the other performs those
services, the law implies a promise to pay. Such a promise is implied between
strangers or even between friends, if the services are rendered in a customary business
transaction. But a promise to pay is not usually implied when the services are
performed between members of a family or close friends. (Source p. 146)

12. A seal represents a formal act, an act of “deliberation” in making a promise that
makes it binding without consideration being given in return. There must be physical
evidence on a document that represents that act of deliberation. (Source p. 147)

13. Offer and acceptance (Chapter 5), consideration (Chapter 6) and intention of create
legal relations (Chapter 6).

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14. The public accountants have no contract with their clients because of a lack of
consideration. They do, however, have a special relationship out of which a duty of
care arises. Breach of that voluntary duty exposes them to liability in negligence or
for breach of fiduciary duty. (Chapter 4)

15. There is a presumption that an intention to contract exists. The presumption is strong
in dealings between strangers and in commerce generally. Otherwise, it is the
reasonable bystander test that is used to determine if an intention to create legal
relations exists. (Source p. 148)

16. No. Early payment is good consideration for the discount. (Source p. 141)

CASES AND PROBLEMS


1. The main question is whether the parties intended to create a legal relationship,
rather than providing friendly advice. Since a court cannot discover what was actually
present in the minds of Burkowski and Adams, their intention must be inferred from all
the circumstances, including their relationship. Having a late-night coffee together is
rather different from Burkowski going to Adams’ office for a meeting.
The American humorist, Will Rogers, is said to have been invited by a prominent
Hollywood socialite to attend a party she was giving. Afterwards he sent her a bill for
professional services (his presence had made the party a successful occasion). She
protested that he had been invited only as a guest. He is reported to have replied that
when he was invited anywhere out of pure hospitality, his host usually invited his wife as
well.
The problem may also be used to show, if the point has not already come up, that when
there is a serious intent to create legal relations, consideration need not be agreed upon
expressly. When Burkowski asked where she might get investment advice, was she
expecting to pay for it? Very likely, she would have, if she went to a third person. Did
Adams’ suggestion for coffee together imply that, at least initially, he would offer his
advice as a friend? In any event, if Burkowski believes Adam’s fee is too high, at most
she impliedly agreed to pay Adams a reasonable price for the advice and his claim for a
fee would be on a quantum meruit basis. The test to determine whether an intention to
create legal relations exists is the reasonable bystander test. Would a reasonable
bystander have understood the meeting between the parties to have intended to create
legal relations?
2. This problem is based on Central London Property Trust, Ltd. v. High Trees
House, Ltd., [1947] K.B. 130. The case is a landmark decision because Lord Denning's
reasons recognized the concept of promissory (or equitable) estoppel. It had been widely
accepted that estoppel was a rule of evidence that would prevent a person from denying
the truth of facts he or she had asserted and which had induced another party's injurious
reliance. But it was another thing to say that estoppel could extend to a promise, as
opposed to an assertion of facts. In the High Trees case, Lord Denning stretched the
concept so that it applied to the gratuitous promise of the landlord to reduce the rent,

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relied on by the tenant who did not then abandon the premises as others had done in
wartime London. Lord Denning did not propose to change existing law, but rather to
resurrect an earlier case, Hughes v. Metropolitan Railway Co. (1877), 2 App. Cas. 439,
(as discussed in the text in Case 6.4 at p. 143). Denning provided authority for the view
that estoppel could apply to a promise of future conduct—even to an implied promise not
to insist on strict legal rights while negotiations were in progress.
In this case, Barney was willing to return to the original rent after the flood waters
receded, but in the High Trees case, the tenant resisted paying higher rent; however, the
landlord (actually a receiver who had succeeded to the landlord's rights) was held entitled
to revert to the higher rent originally agreed upon in the lease but only after he had given
the tenant notice of his intention to do so, and only in respect of further payments of rent
after such notice. This conclusion is consistent with the fact that the promise to reduce the
rent was gratuitous and not in itself binding—except to the extent that it had already been
reasonably relied on. If Ruth were to sue Barney for the payments, Barney’s defence
would be promissory estoppel where the one party leads the other party to believe that the
first party will not enforce its strict legal rights then the courts will not allow it to do so
later.
3. This case is based on Governors of Dalhousie College v. Boutilier, [1934] 3
D.L.R. 593. When a person agrees to subscribe a sum of money for the general and
undefined purposes of a charitable organization, the situation does not ordinarily suggest
that there is any consideration moving from the promisee (charity). Here however,
Autotech did make its promise for a specific project, the construction of the Millennium
Centre, but we are not told that the project is already underway, or whether the town has
signed a contract with a construction company. Further, Autotech’s pledge is conditional
upon matching pledges being received by the town. As a result it is highly unlikely that a
court would find Autotech bound to contribute the full $9,000,000. However, with
respect to the request by Autotech for the return of the money pledged, it would have no
cause of action; once a gift has been voluntarily made, it is no longer the donor’s
property, and the donor has no control over it.
4(a) This case demonstrates a situation that often arises in the day-to-day business
world and a case that many business students enjoy discussing. The facts of the case are
those of Roche v. Marston, [1951] 3 D.L.R. 433 and the judgment in that case is in the
summaries at the end of this chapter.
Students should consider whether any benefit had been conferred on Matsui in response
to his request for Robert's services. If that is so, then the law will imply a promise to pay
for the services rendered. Matsui requested the services and although no price was set,
Roche was entitled to quantum meruit.
Students sometimes contend that a case like this is frustrating because they are faced with
an irresolvable conflict of evidence. It should be pointed out that it is one of the major
functions of the judge or the jury as the trier of fact to sort out the facts when conflicts of
evidence arise. Students are therefore entitled to accept as one of the facts of this case
that the parties had not agreed that Matsui's obligation to pay a commission would be
contingent upon his decision actually to make a purchase. The facts then establish a valid
quantum meruit claim on Roberts' part.

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Students should understand that there is nothing retroactive about the quantum meruit
claim; Matsui's obligation to pay a reasonable price arises at the time he requests Roberts'
services. What happens later between the parties may provide evidence about what the
reasonable amount should be. Matsui's later "promise" to pay Roberts $50,000 and
Roberts' consent provide evidence that they had fixed the dollar value of the work, and a
court will hold the agreed value as binding on both parties.
(b) This case turns upon the fact that since Roberts and Matsui had agreed upon
$50,000 as the appropriate fee; therefore, Roberts was entitled to that amount and no
more under the contract for the services he performed. In these circumstances, Matsui's
promise to pay an additional $10,000 was a promise based on a past consideration and
therefore was merely a gratuitous promise.
5. The question here is one of waiver by a party to a contract of his strict rights
under that contract. Throughout 2009 the parties were on friendly terms and Dealer
tacitly acquiesced in Wheeler's failure to make timely payments. Did Dealer thereby
waive, or tacitly promise, not to insist upon his strict legal rights in the future? If so, can
Dealer unilaterally and without notice withdraw that implied promise?
Although Dealer's implied promise is gratuitous and unenforceable by Wheeler, there
would appear to be an element of undue hardship if Dealer were now permitted to revert
to his strict contractual rights without first giving Wheeler notice of his intention to do so.
It may be argued that Dealer had lulled Wheeler into a false sense of security by not
insisting on prompt payment.
Wheeler could argue promissory estoppel by pointing out that she relied on Dealer's tacit
waiver of his right to insist on prompt payment and that the waiver should not now be
withdrawn with serious retroactive effect. Wheeler should be permitted to withdraw only
after giving Dealer notice of his intention to do so.
In response to this argument Dealer could claim that although the 2009 payments were
late, they were not made thirty-five days late as was the January 1, 2010 payment.
Accordingly, while he may be taken to have tacitly promised not to demand the full
amount if payments were made ten or fifteen days late, he cannot be taken to have
promised to permit Wheeler to be thirty-five days late in making payments.
Another view of this dispute would be that wherever possible, contracts should, in the
interest of administrative planning and business confidence, be accorded binding force
and effect by the courts. Debtors have a recognized obligation to seek out their creditors
and are not entitled readily to draw inferences from past indulgences.
The facts in this case have been drawn from those in John Burrows Ltd. v. Subsurface
Surveys (1968), 68 D.L.R. (2d) 354 (S.C.C.), where the creditor's action eventually
succeeded. In that case, the trial court rejected the debtor's defence of equitable estoppel.
On appeal by the debtor, the court reversed the trial judgment and accepted that the
principle of equitable estoppel governed. On further appeal by the creditor to the
Supreme Court of Canada, the decision of the trial court was restored. Cogent arguments
can be made on either side. However, because of the emphasis given to equitable estoppel
in the text, most students are likely to conclude that equitable estoppel should prevail. It
is of particular interest, therefore, to consider the reasons for judgment of the Supreme

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Court of Canada (as delivered by Ritchie, J., at 360-62):


It seems clear to me that this type of equitable defence cannot be invoked unless
there is some evidence that one of the parties entered into a course of negotiation
which had the effect of leading the other to suppose that the strict rights under the
contract would not be enforced, and I think that this implies that there must be
evidence from which it can be inferred that the first party intended that the legal
relations created by the contract would be altered as a result of the negotiations.
It is not enough to show that one party has taken advantage of indulgences granted
to him by the other for if this were so in relation to commercial transactions, such
as promissory notes, it would mean that holders of such notes would be required to
insist on the very letter being enforced in all cases for fear that any indulgences
granted and acted upon could be translated into a waiver of their rights to enforce
the contract according to its terms...
It does not appear that the evidence warrants the inference that the appellant entered
into any negotiations with the respondents which had the effect of leading them to
suppose that the appellant had agreed to disregard or hold in suspense or abeyance that
part of the contract. It is possible, of course, that one may come to the same conclusion
as the Supreme Court of Canada (that the creditor's action should succeed) but for the
reason that the creditor's past indulgences (accepting interest payments just a few more
than ten days overdue) could create no inference of an implied promise to accept
payments as much as thirty-five days overdue.
Insofar as the defence of equitable estoppel is concerned, one should note that the
debtor, Wheeler, wisely paid the arrears of interest immediately upon receipt of the
creditor's (Dealer's) letter of February 5. Any further delay in payment of interest
would not be protected by equitable estoppel. The "acceleration clause", making the
entire principal sum come due upon default in interest payments, would become
binding upon the debtor as soon as the creditor made clear his intention to revert to his
original legal rights.
An instructor may wish to point out a parallel with the High Trees decision (see Case 2,
above) where notice at once restored the promisor's original legal rights as they pertained
to the future.
6. Susan would likely have a difficult time in bringing a lawsuit in this case. The
case of Carlill v. Carbolic Smoke Ball Co., [1892] 2 Q.B. 484 would suggest that an
advertisement can create a legitimate offer; however, this case more closely resembles
that of Leonard v. PepsiCo, Inc., 88 F. Supp. 2d 116 (States District Court for the
Southern District of New York), aff’d 210 F.3d 88 (2d Cir. 2000). In that case the court
held that the advertisement to cash in seven million “Pepsi points” for a harrier jet could
not be construed as an offer. It further stated that the seriousness of the intention of the
advertisement was subject to the objective standard of the reasonable person. In that case,
a reasonable person would have known that PepsiCo did not intend to give away a
twenty-three million dollar airplane for the equivalent of $700,000 in points.
In Susan’s case, Waymart would argue that there was no serious intent to sell a hot tub, a
product that they do not carry, and that this would be obvious to a reasonable person.

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Susan may have other causes of action under misrepresentation (Chapter 8) and consumer
protection (Chapter 30).
To protect itself from legal risk, Waymart should have included a disclaimer in the
advertisement explaining that the items displayed were not redeemable with points;
PepsiCo added the phrase “just kidding” to its advertisement regarding the harrier jet to
avoid further lawsuits.

CASE SUMMARIES
Source p. 136, n. 2
Governors of Dalhousie College v. Boutilier, [1934] 3 D.L.R. 593 (Supreme Court of
Canada)
Boutilier signed a form pledging $5000 towards the Dalhousie College Campaign Fund
(1920), a fund to increase the general resources of the institution. Subsequently, he met
with financial setbacks that kept him from honouring the pledge. In response to a letter of
inquiry from the President of the University, Boutilier wrote in April of 1926 that he
intended to keep his pledge when he was able. Boutilier died in 1928 without honouring
the pledge and the University sued his estate. The court held that the purpose of the fund
(the general improvement of the institution) did not constitute consideration in the form
of a promise by the University and that no contract had been created. The court also held
that promissory estoppel would not lie against the estate because the University was
unable to show any injurious reliance on Boutilier's pledge.
Source p. 136, n. 3
Brantford General Hospital Foundation v. Marquis Estate (2003), 67 O.R. (3d) 432
(Ontario Superior Court of Justice)
See Case 6.1 at p. 136 in the text. Mrs. Marquis pledged a donation to the plaintiff for $1
million over a five year period. She made the first payment of $200,000, but then died.
Her estate refused to honour the pledge. The plaintiff brought suit to collect the
outstanding $800,000 although they had already received a bequest of $800,000 under the
deceased’s will. The plaintiff argued that they had relied on the promise to their
detriment; that is, they had commenced construction on a critical care unit. Further, they
had provided consideration for the pledge in that they had suggested naming the unit after
the deceased. The court held that there was no contract. They had received funds under
the will and could have used that money toward the unit. Further, the promise to name
the unit was not consideration as that was the plaintiff’s suggestion and it had not yet
been approved.
Source p. 137, n. 5
Haigh v. Brooks (1839), 113 E.R. 119 (England – King’s Bench)
Brooks promised in writing to guarantee payment of £10,000 loan by the plaintiff to a
third party. The facts are rather complicated, but later Brooks bargained for the return of
his guarantee by giving a new guarantee for the payment of certain bills of exchange for

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£9,600 drawn on the third party debtor. The plaintiff agreed and returned the original
guarantee. The third party debtor then defaulted and Brooks refused to honour his new
guarantee. The plaintiff sued Brooks, who claimed that:
i. the first guarantee was invalid because the written memorandum did not satisfy the
Statute of Frauds (see Requirement of Writing in Chapter 9);
ii. accordingly, he had not been legally indebted to the plaintiff; and
iii. therefore, the plaintiff had given no new consideration for the second promise to pay,
but had merely returned a worthless piece of paper.
However, the court held that the plaintiff, by abandoning what he honestly believed to be
a legally enforceable guarantee, had given valid consideration for Brooks' second
promise.
Famous Foods Ltd. v. Liddle, [1941] 3 D.L.R. 525 (British Columbia Court of
Appeal)
Liddle purchased flour from a scoundrel, Oldaker, and gave Oldaker a bill of exchange in
payment. Famous Foods then in turn sold flour to Oldaker, taking in payment from him
the bill of exchange signed by Liddle. None of the parties noticed that changes made to
the bill when it was signed over to Famous Foods made it unenforceable against Liddle.
Oldaker, the "middle man", absconded without delivering all the flour to Liddle and
Liddle protested at having to pay the balance due on the bill to Famous Foods. When
Famous Foods threatened to sue, Liddle gave Famous Foods a new note in return for
deferring the suit. The court held that Famous Foods' forbearance to sue on the original
bill, in the honest belief that it had a good cause of action, constituted good consideration
for the new note.
Fairgrief v. Ellis, [1935] 2 D.L.R. 806 (British Columbia Supreme Court)
The elderly defendant, who was separated from his wife, made an oral agreement with
the plaintiffs that if they would act as his housekeepers and take charge of his home
during his lifetime, the home would be theirs upon his death. Subsequently, his wife
decided to return home and the defendant agreed with the plaintiffs that if they would
surrender their rights under the oral agreement and leave his home, he would pay them
$1,000. They left the house and when ultimately the defendant refused to pay, they sued
him for the $1,000. The court held that even though the first contract was unenforceable
under the Statute of Frauds, the second contract could be enforced because when the
plaintiffs gave up their rights under the first contract, they believed that those rights were
legally enforceable. Therefore there was valid consideration for the defendant's promise
to pay the $1,000.
Source p. 138, n. 6
Eastwood v. Kenyon 1 (1840), 113 E.R. 482 (England – Queen’s Bench)
See Case 6.2 at p. 138 in the text. The plaintiff had been guardian to the defendant’s wife
when she was a child. He had borrowed money to pay for her education and to support
the estate to which she was sole heir. Both she and then later her husband made a
promise to repay the monies the plaintiff had expended on her behalf. The plaintiff sued
the husband on his promise. The court held there was no legal obligation to make good

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on the promise as there was no present consideration on the part of the defendant; past
consideration is no consideration.
Source p. 139, n. 7
Stilk v. Myrick (1809), 70 E.R. 1168 (England – High Court)
This was an action brought by a sailor against the captain of a ship. During the course of
the voyage, many of the seamen deserted ship. The captain promised those who remained
an increase in wages if they would continue the voyage. The captain refused to pay the
increase in wages. The court held that the plaintiff was already under a legal duty to
perform the contract. There was no further consideration for the increase in wages.
Source p. 139, n. 8
Turner v. Owen (1862), 6 E.R. 79 (England – High Court)
Another seafarer case – this time the ship was damaged and the captain made promises
for more money to the sailors to agree to continue the voyage. Because the ship was no
longer considered seaworthy and this is an implied term of the original contract, the
agreement to continue the voyage did amount to consideration for the increase in wages.
Source p. 139, n. 9
Gilbert Steel Ltd. v. University Construction Ltd. (1976), 67 D.L.R. (3d) 606 (Ontario
Court of Appeal)
The plaintiff supplies steel bars to the defendant construction company. Due to increases
in the price of steel, the plaintiff and defendant renegotiated the price for the steel bars,
part way through the construction project. Both parties agree to an increased price orally,
but not in writing. The trial judge found that the defendant did agree to the higher price.
The question then became one of whether or not there was consideration for the increase
in price. The trial judge held that the oral agreement was an agreement to vary the
contract; not to replace the contract with a new one. Therefore, the variation had no new
consideration for the promise of the increase in price and the plaintiff could not succeed.
The Court of Appeal upheld this decision.
Source p. 140, n. 11
Williams v. Roffey Brothers & Nicholls (Contractors) Ltd., [1990] 1 All E.R. 512
(England – Court of Appeal)
This case was a classic situation of a building contractor who could not finish a
construction project on time for the agreed price. The two parties made an oral agreement
to increase the payments above the original contract price, and the contractor completed
the project. The defendant refused to pay the increase in price, and the contractor sued for
the additional sum, claiming that the second agreement was unenforceable for want of
consideration. The English Court of Appeal found that in the circumstances of this case,
the promise to pay a higher price was enforceable because it was in the interests of the
defendant and there was no economic duress. It stated that performance by A of his pre-
existing contractual obligation to B may be good consideration for a promise by B to pay
A an additional sum for the performance of those contractual obligations.
Glidewell L.J. summarized view of the present state of English law in the following

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propositions:
(1) If A contracts with B to do work for, or to supply goods or services to, B in return for
payment by B; and
(2) Before A has completely performed his obligations B has reason to doubt that A will,
or will be able to, complete his side of the bargain; and
(3) B promises A an additional sum in return for A's promise to perform his contractual
obligations on time; and
(4) As a result of giving his promise B obtains a practical benefit, or obviates a
disbenefit; and
(5) B's promise is not given as a result of economic duress or fraud on the part of A; then
(6) The benefit to B is can be consideration for B's promise, so that the promise will be
legally binding (at 521-2).
Glidewell, L.J. did not go so far as to overrule Stilk v. Myrick; rather it was his view that
"the propositions above ...refine and limit the application of… [the principle in Stilk v.
Myrick], but they leave the principle unscathed, eg., [sic] where B secures no benefit by
his promise." This decision goes considerably further than do Canadian decisions; it can
be argued that Glidewell transforms injurious reliance into consideration. (See Halyk's
commentary cited in the footnote.)
Source p. 140, n. 12
Shadwell v. Shadwell (1860), 142 E.R. 62 (England – Chancery)
The plaintiff and Ellen Nicholl agreed to marry each other. The defendant (the plaintiff's
uncle), knowing of the planned wedding, promised in writing to pay the plaintiff a yearly
income for a certain period if the plaintiff would marry Ellen. The wedding took place
but the defendant died before having made all the payments. The plaintiff sued his uncle's
estate for the balance. The court held that the plaintiff's promising the defendant he would
marry Ellen was good consideration for the defendant's promise to pay, even though the
plaintiff had already promised Ellen that he would marry her.
Source p. 140, n. 13
Scotson v. Pegg (1861), 158 E.R. 121 (Exchequer Court)
A coal merchant sold coal to the defendant buyer and then paid the plaintiff, a carrier, to
deliver it. In discussions about arrangements for delivery, the defendant said that if the
coal was delivered at a particular location at a specified time, he would unload it at a rate
that could allow the plaintiff to complete the job quickly. The plaintiffs delivered the coal
but the defendant waited five days before unloading it. The defendant claimed that there
had been no consideration for the promise to unload since the plaintiffs were already
bound to the third party (the seller) to deliver the coal. The court disagreed: it held that
the plaintiffs' promise to the defendant to do something they were already bound to a
third party to do was valid consideration for the defendant's promise because if the
plaintiff had defaulted, then both the seller and the defendant buyer could have sued him.
Pao On v. Lau Yiu Long, [1979] 3 W.L.R. 435 (Privy Council)
The plaintiffs, owners of shares in a private company, contracted to sell their shares to a
public company in return for a new issue of shares in the public company. The

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defendants, who were majority shareholders in the public company, were worried that a
quick sale of the new issue might push down the market price of the public company's
shares. They persuaded the plaintiffs to agree not to sell sixty percent of their newly
acquired shares for over a year.
Subsequently, at the plaintiffs' request, the defendants agreed orally to indemnify the
plaintiffs for any losses they might suffer from retaining the shares. Later the parties had
a disagreement and the plaintiffs refused to complete the share exchange contract with
the public company unless the defendants promised in writing to indemnify them for any
losses. The defendants so agreed, the main transaction was completed and the plaintiff
retained the shares as originally promised.
The shares lost value while the plaintiffs retained them, but the defendants refused to
indemnify the plaintiffs for the loss, claiming that their promise to do so was gratuitous
and not binding. The court held that the plaintiffs' promise to retain the shares, although
made before the defendants' agreed to give a guarantee, was valid consideration if:
(a) done at the defendants' request;
(b) the parties understood that the act of retaining the shares was expected to be "paid
for" (that is, was not a "gift"); and
(c) the guarantee, had it been bargained for in advance, would have been a binding
arrangement.
The court found that the promise to retain the shares met these requirements and thus was
sufficient to bind the defendants to their guarantee.
Source p. 140, n. 14
Glasbrook Brothers v. Glamorgan County Council [1925] A.C. 270 (England - House
of Lords)
During a coal miners’ strike, hostilities broke out between the strikers and the “safety
men” set to guard the mines from damage. The owners of the mines, offered to pay the
local police if they would protect the mines. After, peace had been restored, the owners
refused to pay the fees. The Court held that there was no consideration for the protection
of the mines as it was an existing legal duty on the part of the police.
Source p. 141, n. 15
Foakes v. Beer (1884), 9 App. Cas. 605 (England - House of Lords)
See Case 6.3 at p. 141 in the text. The plaintiff was a creditor of the defendant. The
defendant was in a position where he was unable to repay the debt. The creditor agreed
to accept the principal and waive the interest owing. After the defendant paid the
principal, the creditor sued for the interest. The court held that there was no new
consideration for the reduction in debt and the defendant was liable to the creditor for the
interest.
Source p. 142, n. 16
Hirachand Punamchand v. Temple, [1911] 2 K.B. 330 (England – Court of Appeal)
The plaintiffs lent money to the defendant in return for a promissory note. When the
defendant defaulted on payment, the plaintiffs wrote to his father who offered an amount

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less than that of the debt in full settlement and enclosed payment. The plaintiffs retained
the proceeds and afterwards brought an action against the defendant for the balance of the
debt. The court held that the creditors must be taken to have accepted the money from the
third party, who was under no duty to pay the amount received by them, on the terms
upon which the amount was offered. The payment amounted to a full settlement, so that
the plaintiffs could not maintain an action against the defendant.
Source p. 142, n. 17
Rommerill v. Gardener (1962), 35 D.L.R. (2d) 717 (British Columbia Court of
Appeal)
The defendant agreed to pay and the plaintiff agreed to accept a lesser sum in satisfaction
of a debt. The defendant agreed to pay the amount by Easter but failed to do so. In
October, the plaintiff wrote demanding payment of the full debt. The defendant sent a
cheque for the lesser sum to which the parties had earlier agreed: the plaintiff retained but
did not cash the cheque, and commenced an action for the full debt. Two days before the
trial, the defendant paid the plaintiff the lesser sum which the plaintiff then accepted on
account but continued the suit for the balance of the debt. The court looked at the statute
which states that when a creditor accepts or agrees to part performance in full satisfaction
of a debt, the debt is extinguished when this lesser sum is paid. The court held that such
an agreement is binding under the statute, although it is unsupported by consideration,
once it is performed. The plaintiff was therefore not entitled to be paid the balance of the
debt.
Source p. 143, n. 18
Hughes v. Metropolitan Railway Co. (1877), 2 App. Cas. 439 (England – House of
Lords)
See Case 6.4 at p. 143 in the text. The plaintiff brought action against the defendant for
breach of a contract term that required the defendant to effect repairs to a property it
leased from the plaintiff. The defendant had commenced repairs, but then ceased when it
began negotiations with the plaintiff to buy back the lease. After several months, the
negotiations fell through. The plaintiff then commenced the action as the six month
deadline to complete the repairs had passed. The plaintiff sought to recover the property
under the terms of the contract. The Court held that the parties negotiated in good faith
and that the plaintiff impliedly undertook not to enforce the contract during that time.
The plaintiff was estopped from claiming breach of contract under the circumstances; the
defendant had six months in which to make the repairs from the time the negotiations
broke down.
Source p. 144, n. 19
Central London Property Trust, Ltd. v. High Trees House, Ltd., [1947] K.B. 130
(England – High Court)
The defendant leased a block of flats from the plaintiff. During WWII the occupancy
rates were drastically reduced and so the two parties agreed that the defendant would only
have to pay half of the rent; no stipulation was made for how long this agreement would
continue. By 1945 the occupancy of the flats was back to full capacity. The plaintiff
sued for the full amount of the rents from 1945 forward and the Court agreed; however,

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held. This is fetched from the bush by the men, who, singing a
certain song, carry it in procession into the arena, where the director
of the mysteries stands, in the attitude of a sacrificing priest. He now
kills a fowl, the blood of which is caught in a bowl, while some
charcoal is pounded to powder in a second vessel, and some red clay
crushed in a third—the branch is then encircled with a triple band of
the three substances—red, black, and red. Meanwhile some men
have been digging a hole, in which is laid a charm made out of pieces
of bark tied together. The hole is then filled up and the earth heaped
over it in a mound on which the forked branch, called lupanda, is
planted. A second mound is then made, which, as well as the first,
was still clearly recognizable in the ring of huts at Akundonde’s. This
second mound is the seat for the unyago boy who is considered of
highest rank, the others being grouped around him, on stumps,
which, if the director of the proceedings has the slightest sense of
beauty, are arranged in two regular, concentric circles similar to
those which I saw in the bush near Chingulungulu. “The cromlech of
the tropics!” was the idea which occurred to me at the time, and even
now I cannot resist the impression that this arrangement of tree-
stumps resembles our prehistoric stone circles, not only in form but
perhaps also in the object for which it is designed. If our Neolithic
megaliths were, really used by assemblies for ritual purposes, there
seems no reason why these venerable stones should not have served
as seats for our ancestors. The negro, too, would no doubt dispense
with wooden seats, if stone ones had been obtainable in his country.
If I were at all given to imaginative speculations, I could easily
prove that the Makonde are fire-worshippers. As soon as the men
have built the likumbi, i.e., a hut of the kind we saw at Mangupa, all
scatter to look for medicine in the bush. In the evening of the same
day, they give the roots they have collected to an old woman who
pounds them in a mortar. The resulting paste is dabbed in spots on
the arms of some five or six men by the high priest or doctor. When
this is done all sit inactive till midnight, when the munchira (doctor)
begins to beat his drum. As the deep sound of this instrument
thunders out through the dark tropical night, all the people, adults
and children, stream out of the huts, and dancing and gun-firing are
kept up till the following afternoon, when they distribute presents to
each other and to the boys’ instructor. Thereupon the munchira
delivers an address. The six men above referred to are, he says,
sacred; if they should take it into their heads to steal, or commit
violent assaults, or interfere with their neighbours’ wives, no one
must do anything to them, their persons are inviolable. The six, for
their part, are now informed by him that it is their duty to beat the
drum at midnight for the next three months.
When the three months are ended, the village is all stir and bustle.
Men go into the bush to collect dead wood, and in the evening carry
it in perfect silence to the open space near the likumbi hut. The
women, meanwhile, have been preparing enormous quantities of
beer, which also finds its way to the likumbi. In this hut stands a
small round covered basket (chihero), containing medicines, into
which (and on the medicines) every one of the wood-gatherers spits
out a little of the specially prepared beer. Beside the chihero stands
the old woman who pounded the medicines in the mortar, who then
puts the basket on her head, seizes in one hand the end of a whole
piece of calico, specially bought for the ceremony, and leaves the hut
with a slow and solemn step, dragging the cloth behind her. The first
of the wood-gatherers quickly takes hold of it, so as not to let it touch
the ground; as it unrolls from the bale a second takes it, then a third,
and a fourth, till at last it passes along a little above the ground, like a
train borne by pages. The munchira walks in front next to the
woman, and they circumambulate the likumbi, after which the
munchira takes the end of the calico and wraps it round the chihero.
This he then holds to his right ear; after a short pause, he places it on
his shoulder, again keeping it there for a few moments; then it is
lowered to the hip, the knee, and finally to the outside of the ankle.
At the close of the ceremony the venerable man takes both cloth and
chihero as his well-earned fee.
Again it is night—the outline of the great wood-pile is just
recognizable in the faint light. About an hour after midnight, a tall,
gaunt figure rises from the circle of prostrate figures wrapped in
their sleeping-mats. Silently it glides up to the pile, a little flame
flashes up, to disappear again; but soon there is a fresh crackling; the
flame, in the draught produced by the rhythmic pulsations of a fan,
grows and strengthens. Now we recognize the figure—it is that of the
munchira. In a few minutes the whole large pile is a sheet of flame,
its flickering, quivering lights dancing on the shining faces of the
men standing round in a circle. The fire having now burnt up
brightly, the munchira walks quickly round it, and, his face turned to
the pile, utters the following words:—“Let the wounds of the boys
heal soon and painlessly, and let the chief who is keeping the likumbi
this year find the boys do him credit in after life.” At the same time
he ties a white rag to a pole, and fans the fire with powerful strokes.
The men remain standing round it, watching it as it dies down, till
broad daylight.
Fire, as the central point in a ceremony which cuts so deeply into
social life as do the celebrations of puberty among these tribes, is so
far as I know quite an isolated phenomenon among the peoples of
Africa. Have we here a case of genuine fire-worship, or are the walk
round the fire and the address to it only the last unconscious
survivals of a cult prevalent in ancient times? I do not know, and, to
speak frankly, cannot even say where the answer to this question
may be looked for. We must not a priori assume it to be impossible
that the Makonde should once have been fire-worshippers; we know
far too little as yet of their social evolution. The abundant results of
my inquiries up to this point are the best proof that unexpected
discoveries are yet in store for us.

MASKED DANCE AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

In the male sex the transition from childhood to the status of fully-
qualified maturity is a single, definite process, though extending over
a long period. The memory of rejoicings and sufferings experienced
in common is preserved henceforth among the men by means of a
free, voluntary association known as the “age-class.” All those who
have passed through the unyago in the same year stand by each
other till death severs the connection. This connection, however,
must be thought of in terms of African conditions; there is no society
or club, or the like, and the sole obligation incurred by the old friends
is that every one of them is bound to offer hospitality to any of the
others who may come to his village. Secret societies no longer
consciously influence the character of the age-classes here in the
East, though the reverse is the case in West Africa where the two
things go hand in hand, acting and reacting on each other as cause
and effect, and both finding their common outward expression in
great festivals with masked dances and other mysterious accessories
calculated to terrify the women and the uninitiated men. Here on the
Makonde plateau, the three phenomena—the age-classes, the
festivals and the masked dances—are at the present day not very
closely connected together; yet everything leads to the conclusion
that the masked dance now in use among the Makonde was
originally the outcome of a long-forgotten system of secret societies,
similar to the quite analogous institutions of Kamerun, Upper
Guinea, and Loango. There is many a knotty problem yet to be solved
in this department of African ethnography.
The girls’ unyago is a graduated series of courses of instruction. I
have purposely emphasized the word instruction, as there is nothing
here in the nature of a surgical operation, with a single exception in
the case of the Makua. In all the tribes each girl is given for the whole
period of the unyago into the charge of a special teacher, who
remains her friend through life. Under the guidance of these older
women, the novices in the first place go through a curriculum very
much resembling that of the boys. The children are unreservedly
enlightened as to all sexual relations, and have to learn everything
connected with married life. They are also taught all the rules which
govern intercourse between members of the same tribe, and above all
of the same family.
There is an opening and a closing ceremony for this first course of
the girls’ initiation. I was able personally to observe the revels which
take place on such occasions, at all three of the places where I had
the opportunity of making the chiputu (or echiputu) illustrious by my
presence. The phenomenal thirst shown is quite explained by the
amount of dancing gone through.

WOMAN OF THE MAKONDE TRIBE

After the mysteries, both boys and girls in due course become
marriageable, but I have not succeeded in ascertaining, even
approximately, the age at which this is the case. Individuals are
always out of measure astonished when asked their age, and their
relatives are profoundly indifferent on the subject. In general,
marriage takes place very early, as is proved by the very young
mothers who may be seen in any large assemblage of people, and
who are mostly no further developed than German girls at their
confirmation. Matola tells me that the form of marriage known as
masange was formerly very prevalent, in which young children of
from five to seven were united, huts being built for them to live in.
This custom is said still to be practised occasionally.[58] The same
informant states that it is very common for one woman, who has just
had a child to say to a neighbour expecting a like event, “I have a son
—if you have a daughter, let him marry her”; and this, in due course,
is done.
The African native is a peasant, not only in his avocation, but in
the way in which he sets about his courting. In no other department
is his mental kinship with our own rustics so startlingly shown. To
express it briefly: the native youth in love is too shy to venture a bold
stroke for his happiness in person; he requires a go-between quite in
the style of our own rural candidates for matrimony. This office is
usually undertaken by his own father, who, under some pretext or
other, calls on the parents of the bride-elect, and in the course of
conversation touches on his son’s projects. If the other side are
willing to entertain the proposition, the negotiations are soon
brought to a satisfactory conclusion—that is to say, if the maid, too,
is willing. Girls are not in reality so passive in the matter as we are
apt to assume, but most certainly expect to have their wishes
consulted; and many a carefully-planned match has come to nothing
merely because the girl loved another man. In this respect there is
not the slightest difference between white and black. Of course, not
every native girl is a heroine of constancy and steadfastness; here
and there one lets herself be persuaded to accept, instead of the
young man she loves in secret, an elderly wooer who is indifferent to
her, but in that case she runs the risk of incurring—as happens
elsewhere—the ridicule of her companions. The old bridegroom,
moreover, may be pretty certain that he will not enjoy a monopoly of
his young wife’s society.
Marriage is a matter of business, thinks the African, quite
consistently with his general character, and the contract is only
looked upon as concluded when the two fathers have come to an
agreement as to the amount of the present to be paid by the
bridegroom. The people here in the south are poor—they have
neither large herds of horned cattle, nor abundance of sheep and
goats; the whole purchase—were it correct, which it is not, to call the
transaction by that name—is effected by handing over a moderate
quantity of calico.
Much more interesting from an ethnographic point of view than
the Yao wooing just sketched, are the customs of the Makua and
Makonde. In their case, too, negotiations are opened by the fathers;
but this is, in reality, only a skirmish of outposts,—the main action is
afterwards fought by the mothers, each supported by her eldest
brother, or perhaps by all her brothers. The fact that the
matriarchate is still flourishing here explains the part they take in
the matter.
Nils Knudsen, by the way, can tell a pretty story—of which he is
himself the hero—illustrating the constancy of native girls. During
the years of his lonely life at Luisenfelde, he so completely adapted
himself to native ways as to take a wife from among the Wayao. Even
now, after the lapse of years, he never grew tired of praising the
virtues of this chipini wearer;—she was pretty, and domestic, and a
first-rate cook—she could make excellent ugali, and had all the other
good qualities which go to make up a good housewife in the bush.
One day he went off to the Rovuma on a hunting expedition; he was
only absent a few days, but on his return she had disappeared. On
the table lay a knotted piece of bark-string. He counted the knots and
found that there were seventy; the meaning of the token, according
to the explanation given by the wise men of the tribe being this:
—“My kinsfolk have taken me away; they do not like me to live with
the white man, and want me to marry a black man who lives far away
on the other side of the Rovuma. But even if I should live as many
years as there are knots on this string, I will not take him, but remain
faithful to you, the white man.” This was Knudsen’s story, and he
added, with emotion not untouched by the pride of a man who feels
himself to be greatly sought after, the further statement that the girl
was in fact keeping her vow. She was living far away, in the heart of
the Portuguese territory, and near the man for whom she was
destined, but even the strongest pressure brought to bear by her
family could not make her give way. After all, there is such a thing as
faithfulness in love.
The native wedding is a very tame affair—one might almost say
that there is no such thing. Betrothal and marriage, if we may say so,
coincide in point of time. When once the wooer has obtained the
approval of the rightful authorities, there is no further hindrance to
the union of the couple than the delay necessary for erecting a new
hut for them. When this is done and they have taken up their abode
in it, the young husband begins to work for his mother-in-law, in the
manner aforesaid, which appears so strange to our European ideas,
though we cannot deny that there is room for improvement in our
manners in this respect.
Now, however, we have to consider the question of who may marry
whom, or, in other words, the table of forbidden degrees. This
question has its importance even in Europe—how much more among
people so much nearer the primitive conditions of society. If it is for
the wise men of an Australian tribe one of the highest problems of
social science to determine with absolute correctness which girl
among the surrounding families the young man A may marry, and
who is eligible for the young man B, so neither are the matrimonially
disposed in the Rovuma valley free to indulge their inclination in any
direction they may choose.
It is late in the afternoon. In the baraza at Newala fifteen natives of
respectable age are squatting, as they have done for some weeks past,
on the big mat. From time to time one of these seniors rises, and
leaves the building to stretch his cramped legs, but always returns
after a short time. The place is hot, a fetid vapour hangs over the
assembly, so that the European in khaki, writing so assiduously at his
folding table, presses his hands again and again to his aching
forehead. The company are obviously tired, but they have to-day
been occupied with a very exhausting subject. Hour after hour, I—for
I am the man with the headache—have been trying, in the first place,
to make clear to Nils Knudsen the principles of human marriage
customs, of the various tribal divisions, of totemism, of father-right
and mother-right—in short, a whole series of points in sociology, but
with no very satisfactory result, as is clearly shown by every question
I put. Now the task before me is to elicit from the fifteen wise elders,
with his help and that of the usually acute Sefu, everything they know
on these subjects. All my small failures have made me quite savage,
besides wearying me to the point of exhaustion; and it costs me an
appreciable effort to fling a question into the midst of the learned
assembly.
“Well, old Dambwala, lazy one, you have a son, have you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you, Nantiaka, you have a daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Now, Dambwala, can your son marry Nantiaka’s
daughter?”
“No.”
“And why not?” I must have been very tired, indeed, for even the
surprise audible in this decided negative raised no particular
expectations in my mind. I only began to listen more attentively
when, among the reasons for the negative then alleged, my ear
caught the word litawa. “Nini litawa? What is a litawa?” I ask, now
quite fresh and lively. Well, it appears, a litawa is a litawa. Then
comes a long shauri, in which the wits of the natives, who, like us
have been half asleep, awaken to full activity, and all three languages
—Makonde, Yao, and Makua—are heard at once with a clatter of
tongues like that conventionally attributed to a woman’s tea-party.
At last the definition is found. Translated into technical language
litawa means the matriarchal exogamic kin, including all descended
from one common ancestress. A man’s inheritance does not descend
to his son, but to the son of his sister, and a young Makonde takes his
wife, not from his own litawa, but in one of the numerous matawa
outside his own. The Makua have exactly the same arrangement, but
the word they use instead of litawa is nihimu.
The evening of this day—the twenty-first of September—was
cheered by the feeling that it had been among the most successful of
my whole journey. In order to celebrate it in a worthy fashion,
Knudsen and I, instead of the one bottle of beer which we had been
in the habit of sharing between us, shared two.
The reader, especially after my declaration in Chapter II, will
wonder how we suddenly became possessed of this beverage. It is
true that, in the heat of the plains the mere thought of it was
intolerable, but, up here, close to the clouds, especially when the east
wind blows cold of an evening, a glass of German beer is very
welcome. A few weeks ago I had occasion to send a dozen cases of
specimens down to Lindi. The twelve carriers left early one morning,
and were expected back in a fortnight. On all previous occasions of
this sort, their absence had left me cold; this time, to be honest, we
two white men counted the days of that fortnight, and, when, on a
Sunday morning, the unmistakable sound of Wanyamwezi porters
approaching their journey’s end was heard far out in the bush, we
hurried to meet the great case containing many long-forgotten
comforts—not only the heavy German stout from the Dar es Salam
brewery, but above all, the milk we had so greatly missed, and which
in our present state of emaciation was an absolute necessity.
On that memorable afternoon, however, the close of which I have
thus been anticipating, I had no leisure to think of such material
delights as these.
“So your son, friend Dambwala, cannot marry Nantiaka’s
daughter, because both belong to the same litawa—what is the name
of your litawa?”
“Waniuchi.”
“And where do you live?”
“In and around Niuchi.”
“And you, Kumidachi,” I went on, turning to another old man, in a
new embroidered fez, which marked him as a headman, “to what
litawa do you belong?”
“Nanyanga,” was the prompt reply. Instantly the name is written
down, and my eye rests questioningly on the next wise man. He, one
of the quickest, already knows what is wanted, and does not wait to
be asked, but calls out, “Wamhwidia.”
But I cannot go on in this way—I must find out, not only the names
but their meanings. I have already discovered, in my study of
personal names, how fond the natives are of discussing etymologies,
and here, too, only a slight hint is needed to get the meaning of the
clan-name as well as the name itself. I had translated Waniuchi as
“the people of Niuchi;” but this interpretation did not satisfy these
black philologists,—niuchi was “a bee,” they said, and the Waniuchi
were people who sought honey in hollow trees. The Nanyanga were
flute players in time of war, nanyanga being the name of the
Makonde flute. The Wamhidia, they said, had their name derived
from the verb muhidia, “to strike down,” from their warlike
ancestors, who were continually fighting, and had beaten down
everything before them.
That afternoon, the old men, in spite of their weariness, had to
keep on much longer than usual: I had tasted blood and pumped
them, till, about sunset, their poor brains, unaccustomed to such
continued exertion, could do no more. They, however, received an
extra tip, in return for their self-sacrificing help in this difficult
subject. Even Moritz, the finance-minister, had to-day quite lost his
usual hang-dog expression, and grinned all over his brown face when
he came, after we had struck work, to hand my assistants their bright
new silver pieces. Since then I have devoted all my efforts to the
study of the clan system, and do not know what most excites my
astonishment, the social differentiation of the tribes, their
subdivision into innumerable matawa and dihimu (plural of
nihimu), or the fact that, as I am forced to assume, none of my
predecessors in this field of study has had his attention called to this
arrangement. However, when I come to think it over, I have no
reason to be surprised, for in the first place, I had been travelling
about the country for months without suspecting the existence of the
clan system, and in the second, it was a mere accident that, in the
discussion just described, the answer happened to take just the form
it did. Men are to a certain extent at the mercy of the unforeseen—
the scientific traveller most of all.
Needless to say, immediately after this momentous discovery, I
came back to the problem of the Yaos. After my Makua and Makonde
men had for some time been dictating name after name with the
most interesting explanations into my note-book, Nils Knudsen
suddenly said, “The Yaos have something of that sort, too.” Ten
minutes later, swift messengers were already on the way to fetch up
from the plain any men of that tribe who had the slightest
pretensions to intelligence. They all came up—Zuza, and Daudi, and
Masanyara and the rest. Even now the examination was no easy task,
either for me or for the subjects, but after honestly doing my best, I
got enough out of them to be able to say, “Nils Knudsen is right, the
Yaos, too, have something of the sort.” Not only so, but in their case I
ascertained without much difficulty that there is a second division
into large groups, quite independent of the system of matriarchal,
exogamous clans.
Of the great groups of the Yao tribe, which is now spread over an
extraordinarily large region of East Africa, since it extends from Lake
Chilwa in the south almost to the gates of Lindi in the north, the
following are known to us,—the Amakale, near the sources of the
Rovuma, the Achinamataka or Wamwembe at Mataka’s, between the
Rovuma and the Lujende; the Amasaninga, originally at the south
end of Lake Nyasa; the Achinamakanjira, or Amachinga, on the
Upper Lujende; the Mangoche in the neighbourhood of Blantyre. The
indication of the residences of these great groups, as here given, has
now merely a historic value. Through the gradual migrations already
alluded to, the old limits of the groups are now quite effaced, and can
no longer be definitely laid down on the map. The clans, too (here
called ngosyo, plural of lukosyo), cannot possibly have any definite
position assigned them on the map; and this is also true of the other
tribes. Some clans, indeed, may have a recognizable centre of
distribution, but in general, the same confusion prevails here as in
the case of the larger divisions.
It was not merely curiosity which made me so persistent in
inquiring into the meaning of clan names, but the desire to ascertain
whether they convey any indications of totemism. It may not be
superfluous to say that the word totem comes from North America,
and was originally applied to the drawings of animals appended by
the Iroquois chiefs to their treaties with the white man by way of
signature, the animal represented being that from which the clan of
the signatory traced its descent. Totemism was first studied among
these North American Indians, but was afterwards discovered to
exist in Australia, apparently, also, in Melanesia, and in a very
marked form among the older populations of India, as well as in
various other parts of the world. In most cases, the clans trace their
descent from some animal, which is reckoned sacred and
invulnerable and must not be hunted or eaten. In some isolated
instances it is even considered the height of good fortune for a man
to be eaten by his totem animal. Small and harmless creatures, as
well as plants, are also chosen as totems—otherwise it would scarcely
be possible to find enough; as, for example, in Southern India, where
the totems are innumerable. I cannot here give the whole long series
of clan names collected by me for all three tribes, but must refer the
reader for this part of my results to the official publication. But it was
interesting to find that though totemism no longer consciously exists
among the natives, many a small trait witnesses to its former
prevalence. To point out these traits in detail will be the task of later
inquirers, I will here give only a few specimens of the clan names.
PHONOGRAPHIC RENDERING OF A NATIVE SONG

Matola and his cousin, our common friend, Daudi, belong to the
lukosyo of the Achemtinga, but at the same time to the group of the
Amachinga.[59] The prefix Che, as already stated, is an honorific title
for both men and women:—Chemtinga, according to Daudi, was once
a great chief in the region of the upper Lujende. The Masimbo lived
in Zuza’s district. These take their name from the pitfalls (lisimbo,
plural masimbo) in which their forefathers used to catch game. The
Amiraji, who lived near Mwiti, derive their name from the character
of the country where they formerly lived, which abounded in bamboo
(mlasi).[60] Another Yao clan are the Achingala, who take their name
from the ngala, a kind of mussel, found in the Rovuma and its
tributaries, the shells of which are still used as spoons; the reason for
the name is said to be that their ancestors chiefly lived on this
mollusc.
In the same category as these last we may place the Makua clan of
the Wamhole, whose forefathers fed on the wild manioc (mhole), a
root still eaten in time of famine. The Makonde clan of the
Wambunga derive their name from the tradition that their ancestors
ate the nambunga, or fruit of the bamboo. The Wantanda formerly
had the custom of cutting the flesh of the game they killed into long
strips (nantanda). The Wamunga[61] are rice-planters, the ancestors
of the Alamande lived on a small locust of that name, and the
Wutende are people famous throughout the country on account of a
quality for which we are little disposed to give the natives credit—
they are always working (kutenda).
Even in the cool climate of Europe it is not altogether easy for the
mind to grasp the marriage laws of these clans. Here in tropical
Africa, with its perpetual alternations of heat and cold, I find it
almost impossible to follow the expositions of old Mponda, my
principal lecturer on Civil Law. Moreover, it is very much of a shock
to our customary ways of thinking, to hear, for example, the
following:—After the Makonde boy has been circumcised he does not
return to his parents’ house, but remains in that of his maternal
uncle. There he has nothing further to do but grow up and wait till
his girl cousins are grown up likewise. If the uncle has no daughters,
the nephew first waits till one is born, and, after this event has taken
place, he has again to wait. It must be understood that the young
man is not supposed to get his board for nothing all this time; he is
expected to work pretty hard, like Jacob serving seven years for
Rachel. When at last the goal is reached and the cousin is
marriageable, the suitor, meanwhile arrived at years of discretion,
goes away somewhere where he can earn a rupee’s worth of calico,
hands this to his uncle, and takes home his wife. He is not, however,
free to live where he likes, but remains at his uncle’s village, and
works for him like a bondsman, as before. If, in due course, he has a
son, this son, according to Mponda, must again marry a cousin—the
daughter of his father’s sister. In the old man’s own concise words:
“If I have a sister and she has a daughter, and I have a son, my son
can marry that girl. But if I have a brother and he has a daughter, my
son cannot marry his daughter, because she is numbuwe—his sister.”
We took our leave of the young girl at the moment when, after
passing through the months of the chiputu with their formalities and
festivities, she has taken her place among the initiated. According to
some of my informants the child’s marriage takes place very soon
after this epoch—certainly before the period which we in Europe
consider as the beginning of maturity, viz., the first menstruation.
I have no means of checking these statements, so cannot say
whether this is so or not; in any case we are just now more interested
in the treatment of girls on the occasion alluded to—the more so that
this treatment is analogous to that practised in a whole series of
other regions. As on the Lower Guinea coast, (in Loango,[62] on the
Gabun, and on the Ogowe) and in various parts of Melanesia, the girl
is lodged in a separate hut, where she remains entirely alone; her
friends come and dance, uttering the shrill cry of the ntungululu
outside the hut, but otherwise keep at a distance. Her mother, her
instructress during the unyago, and the other wise women, however,
impart to her the rules of conduct and hygiene:—she must keep at a
distance from every one; she must be particular as to cleanliness,
must wash herself and bathe, but above all, must have intercourse
with no one. This is repeated over and over again, while at the same
time eating, singing and dancing go on incessantly.
At the first pregnancy of a young wife, also, various ceremonies
take place. At bottom, however, these are only a pleasant setting for a
number of rules and prohibitions inculcated on this occasion by the
older women. In the fifth month the young woman has her head
shaved, and a month later the women make a feast for themselves,
and roast some maize for her. Some more maize is then soaked in
water and pounded and the resulting paste smeared on her head.
Then the husband goes to the bush, accompanied by a near relation
of his wife’s, the woman wearing nothing but a small waist-cloth. The
man cuts down a suitable tree and prepares a piece of bark-cloth in
the way already described, while the girl sings in time to the strokes
of his mallet “Nalishanira wozewa neakutende.” The fabric when
finished is ornamented with beads, and the instructress hangs it
round her protegée’s neck as a charm. This is called mare ndembo,
and the same name is henceforth applied to the expectant mother.
Next morning all the people are again assembled for the dance—the
inevitable ntungululu inseparable from all joyful feelings or festive
occasions, mingling, of course, with the singing and hand-clapping.
All, however, do not take part in these rejoicings; the wise women
and the instructress stand apart from the crowd, in a group round
the young wife. “You must not sit on other people’s mats,” says one
toothless old woman, “it would injure both you and the child—you
would be prematurely confined.”
“You must not talk to your friends, men or women,” says another
woman, whose utterance is impeded by an enormous pelele, “that,
too, would be bad for the child.”
“You must not go out much after this,” says a third. “If possible let
no one see you but your husband, or the baby might resemble
someone else. But if you do go out, you must get out of people’s way,
for even the smell of them might hurt the child.”
There is, after all, something in these rules and warnings. We in
Europe are quite familiar with the idea that a pregnant woman must
not see anything unpleasant or terrifying, and ought not, if she can
possibly help it, to let herself be impressed by any other face than
that of her husband. The other prescriptions belong to the region of
sympathetic magic, or action by analogy—the mere possibility of
coming within the atmosphere of people who have recently had
sexual intercourse with one another may endanger the coming life.
But this is not all,—the most important points are yet to come.
“You must not eat eggs, or your child will have no hair.”
“You must not eat the flesh of monkeys, or the child will have no
more sense than a monkey.”
“You must not eat what is left over in the cooking-pot from the day
before, or the baby will be ill.”
“If you go to the garden or the well, and anyone salutes you, you
must not thank him or answer him in any way, for then the birth of
the child will be long delayed.”
The conclusion of the whole lecture which, in contrast to the
system pursued in our Universities, is simultaneously delivered by
many teachers to one unhappy student, is the very urgent and
serious warning to have nothing to do with any other man than her
husband, or she will infallibly die. On the other hand, if her husband
were to forget himself and go after another woman, she would have a
miscarriage, resulting in her death. She must, therefore, be very good
to him and cook his porridge as he likes it.
This is the last word. With the peculiar gait of the native woman,
which has an inimitable twist in it, not to be described in words, the
dispensers of wise counsel hasten, as fast as their dignity will allow,
across the open space and join the rest of the throng, “Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-
lu,”—the shrill vibrations again agitate the air, the drums, beaten by
the men’s strong hands, strike up afresh, a mighty cloud of dust rises
and veils the whole scene, everything is in motion and full of genuine
African mirth, all unconscious of life’s daily miseries. One alone sits
by in silence, the young woman herself who, according to the
instructions just received, is entirely interdicted from taking any part
in the festivity. Her brown eyes—which would deserve to be called
beautiful were their effect not marred by the white being
interspersed with yellowish-brown specks—are fixed musingly on
one point. Is she thinking of the dark hour she will have to encounter
in a few months’ time? The Scripture, “In sorrow shalt thou bring
forth children,” is true for the black race also. But, personally, I do
not think that the young thing is looking so far ahead; it is not in any
case natural for youth to do so, and African youth, in particular, sees
no occasion to be anxious about the future. The race is truly happy,
in the enviable facility with which it lives for to-day, leaving to-
morrow’s cares entire and untouched for to-morrow.
Note.—The system of kinship among the Yaos and neighbouring tribes has not
been so entirely overlooked by inquirers as Dr. Weule supposes. The subject has
been investigated by Archdeacon Johnson, the late Bishop Maples, and the Rev. H.
B. Barnes among others, though, unfortunately, many of their notes are buried in
little-known periodicals. Some valuable information is also to be found in Mr. R.
Sutherland Rattray’s Some Folk-lore, Songs and Stories in Chinyanja. We think
Dr. Weule is mistaken in distinguishing the “larger groups” of the Yao tribe from
the ngosyo: they are probably identical with the latter in origin: e.g., the Machinga
would be the descendants of a single (female) ancestor, who in the course of
generations became numerous and powerful, and perhaps increased their
consequence by incorporating weaker clans who placed themselves under their
protection and adopted their name. But there is a second system of descent, which
may be what Dr. Weule is referring to. This is called by the Anyanja chilawa, and
descends through the father; marriage within it is prohibited. “A man may not
marry any woman who is of his kamu (Yao, lukosyo) or of his chilawa. Thus the
daughters of his mother’s sisters are excluded because they are of the same kamu,
and daughters of his father’s brothers are excluded because they are of the same
chilawa; but the daughters of his mother’s brothers or of his father’s sisters are
eligible, because they are neither of the same kamu nor of the same chilawa” (Rev.
H. B. Barnes). This tallies with the information given to Dr. Weule about the
Makonde marriage laws (p. 314). Mr. Barnes doubts whether the clan names
explained to Dr. Weule are really connected with totems, and thinks the customs
they refer to are “perhaps more likely to be traceable to individual peculiarities of
some ancestor than to any religious totemistic restriction,” and that the chilawa
names, whose significance appears to be lost, are the real totem names. But the
subject is too wide to be discussed in a note. [Tr.]
CHAPTER XV
LAST DAYS AT NEWALA

Newala, October 10, 1906.


“Morgen muss ich fort von hier
Und muss Abschied nehmen....”

The words of the German students’ song rise to my lips, now that I
am thinking of bringing our stay here to a close—though, as a rule, I
am anything but musical, and Knudsen, for his part, can never get
beyond the first line of Gamle Norge. The mention of music suggests
my experiences with the phonograph. When laying in my stock of
blank cylinders at Berlin, it was a happy inspiration of mine to take
half-a-dozen records as well, in the hope that they might serve to
charm the savage breast of the African. I have no sort of
responsibility for the choice of these pieces, as I left it entirely to the
girl who served me at the shop where I bought them. What
determined her selection I cannot tell, but it is a fact that the greater
number of the six records, though not all, are immensely popular. An
American march—quite rightly—produces no impression whatever,
and a selection of songs fails to attract my public: it seems to suggest
nothing at all to them. The next item on the programme, the
arrangement of which I always leave to Knudsen, so that he may
learn to work the instrument,—is “Die beiden kleinen Finken” (“The
Two Little Finches”). Here and there an eye lights up with
intelligence when the twittering of the birds begins, and many sets of
white teeth are seen flashing behind the parapet which shuts off our
baraza from the outer passage. Then comes the well-known
xylophone solo, “Der Specht” (“The Woodpecker”). As the deep bass
voice announcing the title of the piece issues from the funnel, the
whole audience leans over the wall in feverish excitement, one might
almost say with ears erect. A few of the experienced elders, who have
been on the coast and therefore have the right to appear blasés,
laugh ostentatiously to show that they understand. But this laughter
dies away when the pure tones of my instrument, unmixed with any
adventitious sound, begin to reproduce in the most striking way the
unmistakable notes of the xylophone. One can see that these people
have an ear and enjoy the harmony of sounds perhaps as much as we
do. Besides, the sounds are not in this case unfamiliar—for the
mgoromondo, the straw xylophone already described, has exactly the
same timbre. By the time the final tapping duet begins, everything
about them is shining—their eyes, their teeth, their whole faces—in
fact they shine all over, for they keep crowding together more and
more closely, and it is by no means cool. “Die Schmiede im Walde”
(“The Forge in the Forest”) scarcely heightens their pleasure; it is
true that the enjoyment is great and general, but the blacksmith is a
familiar figure of everyday life, and the rhythm of his hammer as well
known to them as it is to us. Now, however, comes our aria di
bravura. It has been my experience that when a white man, after
long residence among savages, declines more or less from the level of
civilized society, music is the first thing to stimulate the endeavour
towards recovery. Nils Knudsen can listen to the Fledermaus
seventeen times running without getting enough of it. He winds up
the apparatus over and over again and remarks that this is real music
—the right sort. The natives, too, are delighted with the merry,
audacious tunes, and if the mood of the moment is such that I feel
moved to execute a few waltz or polka steps and float, like a fairy
weighing some thirteen stone, round the table on which the
phonograph is placed, their delight becomes indescribable rapture.
This is the right moment for turning the tables and calling on the
audience to become performers in their turn. The Newala natives are
very reluctant to oblige in this respect; the men can only be induced
to come up to the phonograph when under the influence of the
ecstasy just alluded to, but the women are off like the wind whenever
I want them.
The men, too, here at Newala, would not come near me for a time.
I had become so absorbed in the linguistic studies which had been
occupying me more and more during the last few weeks, that my
growing isolation did not at first strike me. Only when Knudsen and I
found that we scarcely ever saw any one besides my three teachers,
the akida Sefu, the Yao Akuchigombo (which is, being interpreted,
Mr. Toothbrush), and the Makua Namalowe (Mr. Echo), it became
clear to me that some circumstance unknown to me must be the
cause of this boycotting. Neither Sefu nor the other two could or
would explain matters. Mr. Echo had only been resident a short time
at Newala, having recently come to be trained as a teacher under his
older colleague at the Universities’ Mission, so that his ignorance was
not surprising; but it annoyed me greatly that the other two would
give no answer to all my inquiries beyond “Si jui” (“I don’t know”).
However, I was forced to admit that even these two did not really
belong to the place, Sefu being a coast man, and in his capacity of
akida, probably more feared than loved, while Akuchigombo was
educated at Zanzibar, and through his position as teacher of the
Mission School, separated by a great gulf from the illiterate mass of
the population. This school, with a rusty tube of an artesian well and
a small church-bell, hung according to the custom of this country in
the first convenient tree, are the only relics of the once flourishing
station of New Newala.
Only within the last few days has Knudsen been able to get out of
an old friend from the plains the reason why we have been left so
severely alone. The explanation, strange as it may seem to a
European, is genuinely African: it is nothing more nor less than the
suspicion—indeed the certainty—that I am a dangerous sorcerer.
Somehow the belief had gained ground that in photographing people
I deprived them of whatever clothes they were wearing. “Have you
not seen,” some individual whose name is as yet unknown to me, is
reported as saying to his countrymen, “how the white man gets
under his great black cloth? It is then that he bewitches you. You are
standing there with all your clothes on, but he goes and stands for
hours in his tent overnight, working his charms, and next day, when
he gets out his glasses, there you are on them quite naked. And if you
are foolish enough to go and stand in front of the other machine, he
will take away your voices, too. He is a great wizard, and his
medicines are stronger than even our chisango (divination oracle).
We made war against the Wadachi (the Germans), but what fools we
were to do so, for this white man is one of them!”
The comic aspect of the situation struck me far more forcibly than
the annoying one, and we both laughed heartily. I had not before

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