Professional Documents
Culture Documents
FOURTH EDITION
Jennie Naidoo
Principal Lecturer, Health Promotion and Public Health, University of the
West of England, Bristol, UK
Jane Wills
Professor of Health Promotion, London South Bank University, London, UK
Table of Contents
Cover image
Title page
Copyright
Preface
Acknowledgements
Part One. The theory of health promotion
Introduction
Well-being
Conclusion
Summary
Determinants of health
Conclusion
Summary
Mortality statistics
Morbidity statistics
Measuring deprivation
Psychological well-being
Quality of life
Conclusion
Summary
Public health
Advocacy
Enablement
Mediation
Conclusion
Summary
Behaviour change
Empowerment
Social change
Conclusion
Summary
Ethical principles
Conclusion
Summary
What is politics?
Political ideologies
Globalization
Health as political
Being political
Conclusion
Summary
Introduction
Participation
Equity
Collaboration
School nurses
Midwives
General practitioners
Practice nurses
Dentists
Pharmacists
Care workers
Specialists
Conclusion
Summary
Definitions
Conclusion
Summary
Defining community
Conclusion
Summary
Defining HPP
Conclusion
Summary
Introduction
Planned campaigns
Social marketing
Communication tools
Conclusion
Summary
Introduction
Effective interventions
Conclusion
Summary
Conclusion
Summary
Defining neighbourhoods
Conclusion
Summary
Conclusion
Summary
Conclusion
Summary
Introduction
Setting priorities
Conclusion
Summary
Strategic planning
Project planning
Planning models
Planning models
PRECEDE-PROCEED model
Conclusion
Summary
Defining evaluation
Why evaluate?
What to evaluate
Conclusion
Summary
Glossary
Index
Copyright
ISBN 978-0-7020-5442-6
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Preface
LEARNING OUTCOMES
Table 1.1
The medical and social model of health
Table 1.2
The sick role
Medicine as surveillance
Public health medicine has been concerned with the regulation and
control of disease. Historically this included the containment of
bodies, such as those infected with the plague, tuberculosis or
venereal disease. Mass-screening programmes have given rise to what
has been called medical surveillance. The wish to identify the
‘abnormal’ few with ‘invisible’ disease justifies monitoring the entire
target population. Another critique of the pervasive power of
medicine suggests the mapping of disease and identification of risk
have subtly handed responsibility of health to individuals. This may
invite new forms of control in the name of health, e.g. random drug
testing or linking deservingness for surgery to lifestyle factors. The
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libraries of Arabic literature, to compile local histories and poems,
and, in a measure, to become centres for the propagation of
intellectual thought.
That is the condition in which Leo Africanus found them in the
sixteenth century, when he first revealed their existence to an
incredulous and largely unlettered Western world; in which the
pioneer explorers of the nineteenth century found them; in which the
political agents of Great Britain found them ten years ago when
destiny drove her to establish her supremacy in the country. That is
the condition in which they are to-day in this difficult transition stage
when the mechanical engines of modern progress, the feverish
economic activity of the Western world, the invading rattle of another
civilization made up of widely differing ideals, modes of thought, and
aims, assailed them.
Will the irresistible might wielded by the new forces be wisely
exercised in the future? Will those who, in the ultimate resort, direct
it, abide by the experience and the advice of the small but splendid
band of men whose herculean and whole-hearted labours have
inscribed on the roll of British history an achievement, not of
conquest, but of constructive statesmanship of just and sober
guidance nowhere exceeded in our management of tropical
dependencies? Will they be brought to understand all that is
excellent and of good repute in this indigenous civilization; to realize
the necessity of preserving its structural foundations, of honouring its
organic institutions, of protecting and strengthening its spiritual
agencies? Will they have the patience to move slowly; the sympathy
to appreciate the period of strain and stress which these
revolutionary influences must bring with them; the perception to
recognize what elements of greatness and of far-reaching promise
this indigenous civilization contains? Or will they, pushed by other
counsellors, incline to go too fast both politically and economically,
impatiently brushing aside immemorial ceremonies and customs, or
permitting them to be assaulted by selfish interests on the one hand
and short-sighted zeal on the other? Will they forget, amid the
clamorous calls of “progress” and “enlightenment” that their own
proclaimed high purpose (nobly accomplished by their
representatives) of staying the ravages of internal warfare and
healing open wounds will be shamed in the result if, through their
instrumentality, the seeds of deeper, deadlier ills are sown which
would eat away this fine material, destroy the lofty courtesies, the
culture and the healthy industrial life of this land, converting its
peoples into a troubled, shiftless mass, hirelings, bereft of economic
independence and having lost all sense of national vitality? Thoughts
such as these must needs crowd upon the traveller through these
vast spaces and populous centres as he watches the iron horse
pursue its irrevocable advance towards the great Hausa cities of the
plains, as he hears the increasing calls from the newly opened tin
mines for labour, from the Lancashire cotton-spinner for cotton and
markets; as he takes cognisance of the suggestions already being
made to break the spirit of the new and admirable land-law, and of
the efforts to introduce a militant Christian propaganda; as he listens
in certain quarters to the loose talk about the “shibboleths” and
“absurdities” of indigenous forms and ceremonies, the
cumbrousness of native laws and etiquette.
CHAPTER IV
THE LIFE OF THE PEOPLE—THE LONG-DISTANCE TRADER
A TRADING CARAVAN.
CHAPTER V
THE LIFE OF THE PEOPLE—THE AGRICULTURIST
And now a faint amber flush appears in the eastern sky. It is the
signal for many sounds. A hum of many human bees, the crowing of
countless roosters, the barking of lean and yellow “pye” dogs, the
braying of the donkey and the neigh of his nobler relative, the
bleating of sheep and the lowing of cattle. The scent of burning wood
assails the nostrils with redolent perfume. The white tick-birds, which
have passed the night close-packed on the fronds of the tall fan-
palms, rustle their feathers and prepare, in company with their
scraggy-necked scavenging colleagues the vultures, for the useful if
unedifying business of the day. Nigerian life begins, and what a busy
intensive life it is! From sunrise to sunset, save for a couple of hours
in the heat of the day, every one appears to have his hands full.
Soon all will be at work. The men driving the animals to pasture, or
hoeing in the fields, or busy at the forge, or dye-pit or loom; or
making ready to sally forth to the nearest market with the products of
the local industry. The women cooking the breakfast, or picking or
spinning cotton, or attending to the younger children, or pounding
corn in large and solid wooden mortars, pulping the grain with
pestles—long staves, clubbed at either end—grasped now in one
hand, now in the other, the whole body swinging with the stroke as it
descends, and, perhaps, a baby at the back, swinging with it; or
separating on flat slabs of stone the seed from the cotton lint picked
the previous day. This is a people of agriculturists, for among them
agriculture is at once life’s necessity and its most important
occupation. The sowing and reaping, and the intermediate seasons
bring with them their several tasks. The ground must be cleared and
hoed, and the sowing of the staple crops concluded before the early
rains in May, which will cover the land with a sheet of tender green
shoots of guinea-corn, maize, and millet, and, more rarely, wheat.
When these crops have ripened, the heads of the grain will be cut
off, the bulk of them either marketed or stored—spread out upon the
thatch-roofed houses to dry, sometimes piled up in a huge circle
upon a cleared, dry space—in granaries of clay or thatch, according
to the local idea; others set aside for next year’s seeds. The stalks,
ten to fifteen feet in height, will be carefully gathered and stacked for
fencing purposes. Nothing that nature provides or man produces is
wasted in this country. Nature is, in general, kind. It has blessed man
with a generally fertile and rapidly recuperative soil, provided also
that in the more barren, mountainous regions, where ordinary
processes would be insufficient, millions of earth-worms shall
annually fling their casts of virgin sub-soil upon the sun-baked
surface. And man himself, in perennial contact with Nature, has
learned to read and retain many of her secrets which his civilized
brother has forgotten. One tree grows gourds with neck and all
complete, which need but to be plucked, emptied and dried to make
first-rate water-bottles. A vigorous ground creeper yields enormous
pumpkin-shaped fruit whose contents afford a succulent potage,
while its thick shell scraped and dried furnishes plates, bowls, pots,
and dishes of every size, and put to a hundred uses: ornaments, too,
when man has grafted his art upon its surface with dyes and carved
patterns. A bush yields a substantial pod which when ready to burst
and scatter its seeds is found to contain a fibrous substance which
resembles—and may be identical with, I am not botanist enough to
tell—the loofah of commerce, and is put to the same uses. From the
seeds of the beautiful locust-bean tree (dorowa), whose gorgeous
crimson blooms form so notable a feature of the scenery in the
flowering season, soup is made, while the casing of the bean affords
a singularly enduring varnish. The fruit of the invaluable Kadenia or
shea tree is used for food, for oil, and medicinally. The bees receive
particular attention for their honey and their wax, the latter utilized in
sundry ways from ornamenting Korans down to the manufacture of
candles. As many as a dozen oblong, mud-lined, wicker hives closed
at one end, the other having a small aperture, may sometimes be
seen in a single tree. Before harvest time has dawned and with the
harvesting, the secondary crops come in for attention. Cassava and
cotton, indigo and sugar-cane, sweet potatoes and tobacco, onions
and ground-nuts, beans and pepper, yams and rice, according to the
locality and suitability of the soil. The farmers of a moist district will
concentrate on the sugar-cane—its silvery, tufted, feathery crowns
waving in the breeze are always a delight: of a dry, on ground-nuts:
those enjoying a rich loam on cotton, and so on. While the staple
crops represent the imperious necessity of life—food, the profits from
the secondary crops are expended in the purchase of clothing, salt
and tools, the payment of taxes, the entertainment of friends and
chance acquaintances (a generous hospitality characterizes this
patriarchal society), and the purchase of luxuries, kolas, tobacco,
ornaments for wives and children. It is a revelation to see the cotton-
fields, the plants in raised rows three feet apart, the land having in
many cases been precedently enriched by a catch-crop of beans,
whose withering stems (where not removed for fodder, or hoed in as
manure) are observable between the healthy shrubs, often four or
five feet in height, thickly covered with yellow flowers or snowy bolls
of white, bursting from the split pod. The fields themselves are
protected from incursions of sheep and goats by tall neat fencing of
guinea-corn stalks, or reeds, kept in place by native rope of
uncommon strength. Many cassava fields, the root of this plant
furnishing an invaluable diet, being indeed, one of the staples of the
more southerly regions, are similarly fenced. Equally astonishing are
the irrigated farms which you meet with on the banks of the water-
courses. The plots are marked out with the mathematical precision of
squares on a chess-board, divided by ridges with frequent gaps
permitting of a free influx of water from the central channel, at the
opening of which, fixed in a raised platform, a long pole with a
calabash tied on the end of it, is lowered into the water and its
contents afterwards poured into the trench. Conditions differ of
course according to locality, and the technique and industry
displayed by the farmers of one district vary a good deal from the
next. In the northern part of Zaria and in Kano the science of
agriculture has attained remarkable development. There is little we
can teach the Kano farmer. There is much we can learn from him.
Rotation of crops and green manuring are thoroughly understood,
and I have frequently noticed in the neighbourhood of some village
small heaps of ashes and dry animal manure deposited at intervals
along the crest of cultivated ridges which the rains will presently
wash into the waiting earth. In fact, every scrap of fertilizing
substance is husbanded by this expert and industrious agricultural
people. Instead of wasting money with the deluded notion of
“teaching modern methods” to the Northern Nigerian farmer, we
should be better employed in endeavouring to find an answer to the
puzzling question of how it is that land which for centuries has been
yielding enormous crops of grain, which in the spring is one carpet of
green, and in November one huge cornfield “white unto harvest,” can
continue doing so. What is wanted is an expert agriculturist who will
start out not to teach but to learn; who will study for a period of say
five years the highly complicated and scientific methods of native
agriculture, and base possible improvements and suggestions,
maybe, for labour-saving appliances, upon real knowledge.
Kano is, of course, the most fertile province of the Protectorate,
but this general description of agricultural Nigeria does not only
apply to Kano Province. I saw nothing finer in the way of deep
cultivation (for yams and guinea-corn chiefly) than among the Bauchi
pagans. The pagan Gwarri of the Niger Province have for ages past
grown abundant crops in terraces up their mountainsides whither
they sought refuge from Hausa and Fulani raids. The soil around
Sokoto, where the advancing Sahara trenches upon the fertile belt,
may look arid and incapable of sustaining annual crops, yet every
year it blossoms like a rose. But the result means and needs
inherited lore and sustained and strenuous labour. From the early
rains until harvest time a prolific weed-growth has continuously to be
fought. Insect pests, though not conspicuously numerous in most
years, nevertheless exist, amongst them the locusts, which
sometimes cover the heavens with their flight; the caterpillar, which
eats the corn in its early youth; the blight (daraba), which attacks the
ripening ear. In some districts not so favoured, the soil being of
compact clay with a thin coating of humus, intensive cultivation has
proved exhausting, and it is a study to note how every ounce of
humus is tended with religious care. Very hard work at the right time
is the secret of success for the Nigerian agriculturist. It is little short
of marvellous that with all he has to do he somehow manages to
build our railways and our roads. Indeed, if that phenomenon has in
many respects its satisfactory, it has also its sombre, social side.
One can but hope that the former may outweigh the latter as the
country gradually settles down after the severe demands placed
upon it these last few years.
A GWARRI GIRL.
A HAUSA TRADING WOMAN.