I
To be honest, I’ve thought of pastoralists I met as working people. That’s because I saw my grandmother, Ruby (Simpson) Roe, work for years at the assembly line of Ford Motor Company in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Hands-on work is what she did. Now, most herders I met in Botswana, Kenya, and Zimbabwe didn’t dress like her, talk like her, live in a house like hers, but in these eyes of mine they were all working people.
This means the gorge rose when I read Moravia’s ghastly Which Tribe Do You Belong? Ditto ick for Naipaul, who was no better than Ruark on colonial Kenya or Monsarrat about Bechuanaland. Better instead to talk to Bessie Head face to face (I did) or read that great, great, great workers’ novel, God’s Bits of Wood, by Ousmane Sembène (translated by Francis Price).
I don’t wear this background as a badge of merit, but offer it by way of explaining why I’ve found some academic studies of pastoralists also to be alien and alienating. There, herders are portrayed as anything but working people. Why? Because, well, it’s their unique practices and incommensurable world-views that set them–and all of us–apart. Now, I get the part that their tasks are not the same as on automobile assembly lines of the 1940s to 1960s, and yes, I also get the irreducible particularity of Being. But, folks, I can’t shake away working people.
II
All this is my long way of trying to stay open to thinking differently about herder behavior and pastoralism. True, we are very good at critiquing those glossy pictures of smiling Maasai jumping into the air while holding their cellphones, but pointing out (as if it mattered just as much) that the beads being worn have long come from Europe or further afield. I think we are less adept in making lateral connections, e.g., where today young herders wait around like urban gig workers elsewhere.
Let me extend that simile to provoke your thinking further. Instead of talking about grazing practices, herd mobility, shortage of herder amenities, overall poor living conditions and their marginal social status, think of practices as performance, mobility and herding itineraries as travel, scant amenities as the role of, say, everyday music while herding, and all that poor or picturesque clothing as, well, fashion in its right. To do so means we end up describing “scenes” more than “issues”. As in, e.g., the frequently narrativized “downtown” scenes for the arts, music and lifestyle alternatives, where that “alternative” carries a quite different valence that the “marginal’s” of many pastoralism studies.
In shifting the policy and management focus from issues to scenes, we are explicitly shifting to a central focus on what have called frictional, improvisational contact zones that everyday pastoralism shares with other scenes organized around (alternative) performances, travel, music and fashion. That this analytic shift–probably still far-fetched to some!–complicates official and academic policy narratives about pastoralism is a welcome one in my view. How so?
III
If we stick with the conventional view of herders as their own unit of analysis, we’ve been trained to think of informal contact zones as the decreasing space between two blades of modernity’s scissors: One blade is everyday pastoralism commodified by really-existing markets and state interventions; the other blade is everyday pastoralism disciplined into categories from really-existing officials, consultants, and social scientists.
The contact zones I am talking about, however, are a response to the scissors cutting one way only. Whether the zones are formal or informal is not the point. Pastoralism is, to use the phrase, an “infrastructural form.” It is a scene-making device that is exceptionally adept at rendering all that unromantic, unsentimental dust and sand and dirt in photos of herds and herders alive with working relations and affordances that necessarily extend beyond market and state.
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Source. I shamelessly borrow (the errors are my mine alone) from Jennifer Park (2026), “index Magazine and the Downtown Interface: Art, Music, Fashion, and Indie Publics in 1990s New York,” Fashion Theory (accessed online at https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/1362704X.2026.2712394

