Theoretical Nursing Development and Progress Sixth Edition

Theoretical Nursing: Development and
Progress Sixth Edition

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Reviewers
Claudia Beckmann, PhD, RN, WHNP, BC, CNM

Associate Dean
Graduate and Professional Programs
Associate Professor
Rutgers University School of Nursing-Camden
Camden, New Jersey
Miriam Bender, PhD, RN, CNL

Assistant Professor
Nursing Science
University of California, Irvine
Irvine, California
Franco Carnevale, PhD, RN

Assistant Director
Ingram School of Nursing (Master’s Program Director)
McGill University
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Linda Carmen Copel, PhD, RN, CNS, BC, CNE, NCC, FAPA
Professor of Nursing
Villanova University
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Leslie L. Davis, PhD, RN, ANP-BC, FAHA

Assistant Professor
University of North Carolina Greensboro
Greensboro, North Carolina
Ellen D’Errico, PhD, RN

Associate Professor of Nursing
Loma Linda University
Loma Linda, California
Joseph DeSantis, PhD, ARNP, ACRN, FAAN

Associate Professor
University of Miami School of Nursing and Health Studies
Coral Gables, Florida
Nancy Dluhy, PhD, RN

Adjunct Faculty PhD Nursing Online
University of Massachusetts
Dartmouth, Massachusetts
Bobbe Ann Gray, PhD, RNC-OB, CNS-BC

Associate Professor
Wright State University
Dayton, Ohio
Susan Sweat Gunby, PhD, RN

Mercer University
Atlanta, Georgia
Debra R. Hanna, PhD, RN

Molloy College
Rockville Centre, New York
Brenda Hosley, PhD, RN

Clinical Associate Professor
Arizona State University
Phoenix, Arizona
Cynthia Jacelon, PhD, RN-BC, CRRN, FAAN

Rehabilitation Clinical Nurse Specialist
University of Massachusetts
Amherst, Massachusetts
Norma Kiser-Larson, PhD, CNE

Associate Professor
North Dakota State University
Fargo, North Dakota
Deborah Lindell, DNP, RN, CNE, ANEF

Associate Professor
Case Western Reserve University
Frances Payne Bolton School of Nursing
Cleveland, Ohio
Rozzano Locsin, PhD, RN, FAAN

Professor Emerita
Florida Atlantic University
Boca Raton, Florida
Star Mahara, MSN, RN

Associate Professor
Thompson Rivers University
Kamloops, British Columbia, Canada
Ruth McCaffrey, DNP, ARNP, FNP-BC, GNP-BC

Professor and Coordinator—Doctor of Nursing Practice Degree Program
Mercer University
Atlanta, Georgia
Karen H. Morin, PhD, RN, ANEF, FAAN
Professor Emerita
PhD Program Director
University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jennifer Robinson, PhD, RN, CNE, FAHA

University of Mississippi Medical Center
Jackson, Mississippi
Beth Rogers, PhD, RN, FAAN

University of New Mexico (Retired)
VCU School of Nursing
Professor and Chair of the Department of Adult Health and Nursing Systems
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Jacqueline R. Saleeby, PhD, RN

Associate Professor
Maryville University
St. Louis, Missouri
Anne Thomas, PhD, MSN, BSN

Dean, Associate Professor
University of Indianapolis School of Nursing
Indianapolis, Indiana
Joan Tilghman, PhD, RN, CRNP

Associate Dean of Masters Education in Nursing Education
Coppin State University
Baltimore, Maryland
Preface
hy produce a sixth edition of the book? And why at this particular

W time? The answers to these two questions are both simple and
complex. The simple answers are because faculty who teach theory are
continuing to use it, graduate students are both inspired and challenged by its
content, and it has become a valuable resource for clinicians and researchers.
Their unsolicited comments and evaluations provided the impetus for me to
revise, update, and expand the content of this revised volume. The rest of the
simple answer is also because based on reviews, evaluations, and demands,
my publisher requested a new revised edition. I am grateful for all these
reasons that prompted embarking on this sixth edition journey.
But there are even more compelling rationales warranting the time and
energy to produce a much updated and revised version of the fifth edition.
This could be summarized in two equally compelling rationales. The first is
my own passion and deep conviction that theories are powerful tools that
empower members of our discipline in making an even more positive impact
on the health of populations globally. The second compelling rationale is that
this is the most significant turning point in the history of our discipline,
where the stars are all aligned for what our predecessors set the stage to
achieve, which is the best access to quality health care for all, including the
most vulnerable of populations.
Let me explain more about my two-prong rationale for why I again bring
this book to you, the readers, whether students, faculty, clinicians, research,
policy makers, or all the above. My passion for theoretical nursing was
ignited from the day I started reading and learning about our first-generation
theorists: Virginia Henderson, Dorothy Johnson, Myra Levine, Florence
Nightingale, Dorothea Orem, Ida Orlando, Hildegard Peplau, Martha Rogers,
and Ernestine Wiedenbach. What added fuel to the flame of theorizing was
when I taught that first theory course, designed by Dorothy Johnson, and I
added to it an analysis of the paradigms that influenced these early pioneering
theories—Systems, Symbolic Interaction, and Adaptation, among others. The
students’ reactions were phenomenal and ranged from total excitement to
bewilderment. Excitement that nurses can theorize and that they can use these
coherent frameworks to actually name what they have done so well for so
long, but could not find the right words to describe. They also expressed
bewilderment about grappling with philosophic and theoretic ideas they felt
were reserved for others who were more “intellectually inclined” because
“nurses are hands-on” and are not theorists or philosophers. The outcomes of
that era piqued my interest even more and nurtured the theory flame. Some of
the outcomes, as you will see throughout the pages of this book, were theory-
based curricula (too soon, too much, with too little initially), theory-based
research, and the stimulation of even more theoretically sophisticated second-
generation theorists—Imogene King, Betty Neuman, Margaret Newman,
Rosemarie Parse, Josephine Paterson and Loretta Zderad, Callista Roy, and
Jean Watson. Then a very complicated dialogue ensued about theory
development and its strategies that stimulated a third generation of theorists
who focused on strategies to develop and evaluate theories. From all that, the
fourth generation of theorists who developed middle-range theories evolved
and enriched our literature with more research and practice-friendly theories.
This brings me to my second rationale for why this volume and why at this
time. As I mentioned above, the stars are aligned for making in the immediate
future an incredible impact on population health, driven by nurses’ voices
and nurtured by the discipline’s mission and values. It goes without having to
belabor it that we as nurses are far better prepared educationally and have
demonstrated our expertise. But there are other stars that are aligned: there is
global health care reform that brings the attention to access to health care, to
disparities, to community-based practices, to home care, to marginalized
populations, to patient-centered care and precision medicine, all of which are
congruent and reflect nurses’ scope of practice, goals, expertise, education,
and scholarship. There is an alignment between nursing history, mission, and
goals (including the 2015–2030 Sustainable Development Goals). There is
also heightened realization, of legislators and health care policy developers,
of the centrality of nurses in enhancing access to health care, coupled with the
global shortage of nurses as a workforce. All of the above provides a rich
platform for nursing organizations to garner the public’s support and the
financial resources for developing and implementing creative care models
that insure equitable access to quality care throughout the life cycle of
populations.
You, the reader, may wonder at this point and question the role of theory
and why that theoretical thinking may be contributing to the star alignment.
Theory brings order to the galaxy of stars. It is the orbit that defines their
movements and interactions. It provides the language, the principles, the
evidence, and the goals for policy recommendations. Several major events
support nurses’ roles in policy change: focused strategic goals developed by
the National Institute of Nursing Research in the United States; the
appointment of a commission for nursing by the United Nations to make
recommendations about the nursing workforce; the bold move made by the
Robert Wood Johnson Foundation’s President, Risa Lavizzo-Mourey, to
invest in and promote a culture of health; and a voiced movement toward
more gender, cultural, and sexual orientation equity. All of these, along with
the development of health care commissions in many countries to implement
health reforms, provide golden opportunities for nurses to make the health
care impact that they always wanted to make. There is a momentum, and
nurses equipped with theories and research can, and must, support this
momentum.
This brings me back to this sixth edition of the book before you. This book
comes to you as many assumptions about theory development have been
debunked, such as that theory development is an elitist endeavor and that it is
an academic exercise; that nurses cannot engage in developing theories; that
nursing as a discipline is practical and is not amenable to theorizing; and that
theory, research, practice, and education must exist in siloes. While these are
old assumptions, I am deeply concerned about a few of the new assumptions
that substitute for these old ones, such as we need not include theory in our
curricula, there is no room in our nursing educational systems to include
theoretical dialogues, that we should not be teaching these old theories that
are too abstract, and that advancing the discipline of nursing requires
investments only in growing research programs that produce the evidence for
practice.
The intent of this book, then, is to demystify theory, to chart the different
strategies to use in developing and advancing theory, and to provide tools and
best practices in evaluating progress in the discipline. It provides both an
open invitation to embark on a journey without the many preconceived
assumptions that may have been a barrier to pursuing knowledge
development. Demystifying theory and dispelling assumptions are essential
but not sufficient conditions for empowerment. The metaphors that describe
the current stage in theory development are epistemic diversity and
integrative process, both of which are an acknowledgment and valuation of
nursing history, heritage, and practice. Both of these metaphors reflect and
accept the central role of practice in advancing nursing knowledge and
nurses’ ways of knowing as vital in uncovering and developing knowledge.
Empowerment is also about believing in one’s own abilities and capacities to
advance knowledge and about using these capacities to become an agent for
continuous learning and creating. It is about being a critical thinker, a
theoretical thinker, an innovative advocate, and an agent for change. Our
discipline is ready to invest in and nurture fifth-generation theorists.
In this book, I provide support for our domain as we see it today. The
future progress of the discipline depends on the extent to which members of
the discipline will embrace our disciplinary identity, our theoretical progress,
and our epistemic diversity, and utilize integrative approaches to theory
development. The scholars of the future, along with fifth-generation theorists,
are those who are as comfortable with theorizing as with researching,
practicing, and teaching. They will be able to understand and speak the
languages of different disciplines, translate their findings to the different
practice fields, and engage in changing policies.
In short, the major goals of this book are to make a contribution to raising
the consciousness of the reader and to acknowledge our theoretical history
and pave the way for our future. It is to place the present in the context of our
history and to develop an awareness of the potential for theory advancement
by members of the discipline, both men and women, old and young,
clinicians and academicians, researchers and theorists, students and faculty. It
is about the pride we must have in the contributions our discipline makes to
the health and well-being of people.
I offer the ideas in this book as tentative thoughts to provide an even
platform to enforce self-agency in students, faculty, clinicians, researchers,
and theoreticians to drive the development of new coherent frameworks to
advance nursing science. By knowing equally, they may be empowered to
leverage their competency and use their expertise. A democratization of the
processes in developing theory is an empowering process to you, the reader,
to believe in your own voice, to respect and value the voices that came before
you, but to challenge and build on them.
Every time I work on a new edition, I feel renewed, inspired, and
regenerated. It has been a privilege for me to be a nurse, and it is an
incredible privilege to write this book honoring the past and envisioning the
future. I continue to be inspired by the many questions and comments I hear
from you in global meetings and through the new, more convenient digital
media. Thank you for the work you do, the thoughtful questions you raise,
and the comments you have made. I have tried to reflect all of them in this
new edition. To readers far and near, thank you for continuing to dialogue
with the ideas in this text. And keep dialoguing with me!
Afaf Ibrahim Meleis, PhD, FAAN, LL

Acknowledgments
riting and/or revising a book is an experience that is only understood

W through the author’s relationships and repertoire of interactions. It is
based on much thinking, plenty of reading, many opportunities for creativity,
a pinch of stamina, and a large dose of persistence, all wrapped together in
layers of engagement and support from others. To start with, if it were not for
my husband’s (Mahmoud) patience and lifelong support, I would not have
written the first edition of Theoretical Nursing, followed by five more
editions. He provided support at all levels, from the tangible to the emotional.
He empowered me through consistent dialogues and controversial debates, as
well as many political disagreements. While affirmations of ideas are always
helpful, debates are even more powerful, as through them I learned how to
separate or connect the personal and the political and to sharpen negotiation
through controversial and competing ideas, which this book is about. Our
sons Waleed and Sherief continue to provide incredible joy and support as
they create and define their new roles as fathers and successful professionals.
To revise a major textbook such as this one, I needed thinking time,
literature updates, expert typing, sharp editing, project coordination, art work,
and copy editing. I received a Rockefeller Foundation /Bellagio fellowship
that gave me a month of thinking and writing time. Though the goals of this
fellowship were about global women’s health in the changing urban
landscape rather than for developing the plans for this sixth edition, the scope
of thinking cannot be contained to the specific identified goals. Invariably I
found myself thinking and planning for this edition. I am grateful to The
Rockefeller Foundation for providing me with the environment to
decompress from 12½ years Deanship, for giving me the gift of an
environment where I had uninterrupted thinking and writing time, and for
helping me to jump-start this sixth edition. My Bellagio cohorts were an
incredible sounding board as well as a source of inspiration about economics,
art, music, law, civic responsibilities, and philosophic discourse.
The management of my schedule for this project and the monumental task
of reviewing and selecting the right literature to use in revising this sixth
edition were left to the executive coordinator of my office, Kim Freeman. I
am most grateful for her tireless, expert, and thoughtful efforts. It was she
who provided the organizational and coordinating structure for this extensive
project. In addition, I give her complete credit for ensuring that Chapter 21
updates reflect the most recent literature and that they match the new citations
in all of the 20 other chapters.
Maria Marconi typed both my fifth and sixth editions. She provided
continuity and a filter that eliminated redundancies and insured consistency.
Her availability, timeliness, and attention to detail are a dream for authors
who are always facing many deadlines. I truly appreciated her partnership
and passion on this project.
Wolters Kluwer also provided me with continuity. Helen Kogut and I
successfully completed the fifth edition, and similarly the sixth edition, on
schedule. Her organization and coordination ensured timely reviews,
critiques, and revisions. I give her much credit for the edited quality of the
manuscript. Her support and affirmation throughout the project are
appreciated not only by me, but equally by Kim and Maria.
Though I have never met Dan Alt, his sharp critical eyes, the seriousness
by which he handled the editorial critique, and the thoughtful questions he
posed always gave me pause and the rationale to revise.
Christina Burns also coordinated and facilitated legal and marketing
processes while expecting her first child.
Inspiration for the continuity of discourse that started in previous editions
as well as for tackling new themes in this edition came from many sources.
Over the years and across many continents, in person or through media, I had
the privilege globally to engage in short and long dialogues with colleagues
who read, reviewed, and critiqued or affirmed ideas presented in my writing.
Whether they realized it or not, they have influenced my thinking. Their
enthusiasm, creativity, and dedication to the discipline of nursing have made
a lasting impact on my decision to review, revise, and update my thinking
about the theoretical bases of our discipline.
In short, this sixth edition is a product of the thought and loyal team
mentioned above as well as the many volunteer comments I have received
over the years. Without all of the above, I would not have been able to
produce this edition. I am absolutely grateful for the contributions of all.
Afaf Ibrahim Meleis

Contents
Part One
OUR THEORETICAL JOURNEY
1 Positioning for the Journey
Beginning the Journey
Assumption, Goals, and Organizations
Organization of the Book
On a Personal Note
Reflective Questions
2 On Being and Becoming a Scholar

Scholarliness in Nursing
Nurses as Scholars
Conclusion
Acknowledgments
3 Theory: Metaphors, Symbols, and Definitions

The Destination: Theory and Theoretical Thinking
Definitions
Types of Theories
Theory Components
Uses of Theory
Part Two
OUR THEORETICAL HERITAGE
4 From Can’t to Kant: Barriers and Forces Toward Theoretical Thinking
Barriers to Theory Development
Resources to Theory Development
Conclusion
5 On the Way to Theoretical Nursing: Stages and Milestones

Stages in Nursing Progress
Milestones in Theory Development
Conclusion
Acknowledgments
Part Three
OUR DISCIPLINE AND ITS STRUCTURE
6 The Discipline of Nursing: Perspective and Domain
Nursing Perspective
Domain of Nursing Knowledge
Definition of Nursing
Conclusion
7 Sources, Resources, and Paradoxes for Theory

Spinoza on Knowledge Development
Sources for Theory Development
Classifications of Nursing Diagnosis, Nursing Interventions, Nursing Outcomes, and Decision-
Making
Resources for Theory Development
Identifying Domain Paradoxes
Conclusion
8 Our Syntax: An Epistemological Analysis

Knowing from the Received View to Postmodernism View
Truth: From Correspondence to Integrative View of Truth
Conclusion
Part Four
REVIEWING AND EVALUATING: PIONEERING THEORIES
9 Nursing Theories Through Mirrors, Microscopes, or Telescopes
Images of Nursing, 1950–1970
Theories’ Primary Focus
Images, Metaphors, and Roles
Areas of Agreement Among and Between Theorists and Schools of Thought
Conclusion
10 A Model for Evaluation of Theories: Description, Analysis, Critique, Testing, and Support
Selecting Theories for Utilization
Framework for Evaluating Theories
Conclusion
11 On Needs and Self-Care

Dorothea Orem
Conclusion
12 On Interactions
Imogene King—A Theory of Goal Attainment
Ida Orlando
Josephine Paterson and Loretta Zderad
Joyce Travelbee
Ernestine Wiedenbach
Conclusion
13 On Outcomes
Dorothy Johnson
Myra Levine
Betty Neuman
Martha Rogers
Sister Callista Roy
Conclusion
Part Five
ON DEVELOPING THEORIES OF DIFFERENT LEVELS
14 Developing Concepts
Concept Exploration
Concept Clarification
Concept Analysis
An Integrative Strategy to Concept Development
Conclusion
15 Developing Theories
Theory Development: Existing Strategies
Conclusion
16 Developing Middle-Range Theories

Definition of Middle-Range Theory
Sources for Middle-Range Theories
Tools for Developing Middle-Range Theories
Developing Middle-Range Theories: The Integrative Strategy
Developing Transition Theory: An Exemplar of Integrative Strategy
Conclusion
17 Developing Situation-Specific Theories

Introduction
Definition of Situation-Specific Theories
Philosophical Roots of Situation-Specific Theories
Properties of Situation-Specific Theories
Sources for Situation-Specific Theories
The Integrative Strategy for Developing Situation-Specific Theories
The Status of Situation-Specific Theories
Evaluating Situation-Specific Theories in the Literature
Conclusion
Part Six
OUR THEORETICAL FUTURE
18 Measuring Progress in a Discipline
A Theory of Revolution
A Theory of Evolution
A Theory of Integration
Conclusion
19 Fifth-Generation Theorists: Passion for Advancing Theory

Disciplinary Identity
Theoretical Thinking
Fifth-Generation Theorists
Threats and Opportunities in Theorizing
Conclusion
Part Seven
OUR HISTORICAL AND CURRENT LITERATURE
20 Historical Writings in Theory
SECTION I Abstracts of Writings in Metatheory, 1960–1984
SECTION II Abstracts of Writings in Nursing Theory, 1960–1984
Dorothy Johnson
Myra Levine
Dorothea Orem
Martha Rogers
Sister Callista Roy
Joyce Travelbee
21 Historical and Current Theory Bibliography

Theory and Theorizing in Nursing
Nursing Theory and Theorists
Paradigms That Have Influenced Nursing
Middle-Range Theory
Situation-Specific Theory
Websites and Media on Theory
Author Index
Subject Index
Part One
____________________
OUR THEORETICAL JOURNEY
nvite you, in this first part of the book, to embark on a journey that will
I introduce you to the rich theoretical underpinnings of our discipline.
Uncovering the role that theory plays in our daily experiences as nurses is the
first step in the theoretical journey proposed in this book. In the three
chapters in Part One, the theoretical journey, along with its symbols and
scholarly destinations, is described. In Chapter 1, you will find assumptions
on which the journey is planned, the organizational plan for the journey, and
some of the supporting material. Chapter 2 includes scholarly goals and the
different possible destinations for the journey. The context for the journey is
then set in Chapter 3, where the key definitions of theoretical symbols and
terms are provided.
As with any long journey, planning is essential, but it is equally important
to allow flexibility for personal goals to emerge from the experience, side
trips that may distract or enrich you, and serendipitous opportunities that may
attract you. It is the totality of these experiences that will lead to immersion,
understanding, and innovation.
1
_______
Positioning for the Journey
isciplines should be dynamic to respond to emerging and changing

D needs of societies and to the new demands imposed by population
movements, health care reforms, and transformation of global order.
However dynamic disciplines are, each has a core set of values, assumptions,
a perspective, a domain that includes its major concepts, and a mission, all of
which maintain its stability and effectiveness. This core is what provides
continuity and drives progress in disciplines.
Quality care pertaining to health and illness for all people continues to be
nursing’s top priority. In the 21st century, attending and realizing this goal is
even more urgent than it has been in the past because of increasing
population diversity and better awareness of inequities in meeting the needs
of the different groups in societies, the majorities and the many minorities,
the conflicting priorities in health care systems, and the emergent costs and
reimbursement issues that patients, insurance companies, the health care
industry, and health care professionals are confronting. Theory and
theoretical thinking may have been promoted in the past as answers to the
undefined roles of nursing or the diffused nature of the profession of nursing.
However, in this era in which unequal access to health care continues to
persist, where disparities in provision of health care services are becoming
more recognized, where there are emerging challenges in treating chronic
illnesses and infections, where there is a proliferation of health care
professionals and nonprofessionals, and where there are many global
dialogues about health care reforms, the role of theory and the utilization of a
coherent framework in providing care have become even more urgent and
more compelling.
By examining history we shape the present and future dialogues related to
our world. When we visit Independence Hall, where statesmen wrote the U.S.
Constitution, when we listen to Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream”
speech, or when we are in the presence of the pyramids built by Egypt’s
pharaohs, we are provided with interpretive reminders about how historical
individuals and events continue to shape discourse, legislation, equity, life
and afterlife, and other aspects of our society. In the same way, to fully
appreciate the role of nursing theory in shaping the future of equitable and
accessible quality health care, we must review and analyze our theoretical
past and its influence on the present and future of health care.
By uncovering and understanding a discipline’s theoretical journey,
members of the discipline learn to build on it. By unfolding the processes
used in developing our theoretical past, we gain insights that improve our
understanding of our current progress, and we are empowered to achieve our
disciplinary goals. When we take a critical and reflective stance on the
current theoretical discourse, or lack thereof, as the case may be, we see
shadows of past issues and accomplishments, as well as visions of the future
of our discipline and profession. Therefore, reconstructing our theoretical
heritage is a process that involves interpreting our present reality and shaping
our future. The intent of the historical-to-future journey proposed in this book
is to demonstrate the progress of nursing through analyses of the
philosophical assumptions, theoretical processes, and patterns that have
influenced the development of the discipline. We will perform these analyses
in ways that value our experiences as nurses, in ways that support and
enhance our progress, and in ways that allow us to proactively develop
abstractions, exemplars, conceptualizations, and theories that reflect and
guide our nursing assessments and actions. Synthesizing insights from and
about the past, considering the current reality of the health care systems,
analyzing the societal context, and considering the potential future visions of
quality care can enhance creativity in the discipline of nursing, which could
further its development and progress.
Despite many crises along the path toward providing quality care, the
development of the discipline of nursing has progressed by leaps and bounds
during the last 50 years. The first two decades of the 21st century brought
with them many challenges, some new and some merely shadows of the past.
Few would dispute the notion that theory in general has been responsible for
this development; yet, some continue to question the specific role of theory in
the development of the discipline and its effects on the discipline’s scientific
bases and clinical practice. The thesis of this book is that the evolution of the
discipline of nursing and its scholarliness is greatly intertwined with its focus
on theory. The movement in our discipline to incorporate vigorous
philosophical and theoretical discourses is a credit to those who theorized
about nursing practice: thinkers who dared to conceptualize in a practice
discipline and educators who pioneered theory development, all of whom
were instrumental in defining and advancing the discipline of nursing. These
thinkers framed the discussions and the discourse about the mission and the
boundaries of the discipline of nursing. The discussions in this book go
beyond this thesis to delineate the core of the domain of knowing as well as
the permeable boundaries of nursing knowledge, the sources used to advance
that knowledge, the different approaches to knowing, the theories that guided
the development of nursing’s scientific base, and the criteria of truth that the
discipline may or may not use. Although the dialogues in this book intend to
provide the reader with a sense of history, the process itself helps to unfold a
futuristic course that may inspire the readers to develop their own agendas for
advancing nursing knowledge. The readers of this text are the active agents
who will shape the future of the discipline.
Theory is not a luxury in the discipline of nursing. Using theory as a way
to develop conceptual frameworks to be used to guide curriculum
development is part of our past. Theory has become an integral part of the
nursing lexicon in education, administration, and practice. Members of the
nursing discipline should understand its role in the development of nursing
and in the delivery of quality evidence-based nursing care. Theory is vital for
guiding coherent and influential programs of research. Theory drives policies
that are congruent with the assumptions, values, and evidence of a discipline.
Theory guides the impact that members of the discipline plan to make.
BEGINNING THE JOURNEY

Like all journeys, the journey proposed for you, the reader, could be short or
long, detached or involved, superficial or profound, simple or complex,
preplanned or spontaneous, or structured or discovered. Like all journeys, this
one has maps, destinations, lamp posts, detours, setbacks, surprises,
disappointments, and insights. Like all journeys, you will get out of it what
you put into it. It has been my experience in sharing this journey with many
fellow travelers through teaching, research, and practice, that the insights
gained and progress achieved coincide with the extent to which there is
complete openness and flexibility in the discoveries experienced and
developed during the journey, to the extent to which there is true engagement
in all aspects of the journey, and to the extent that there are opportunities to
integrate this journey with personal and professional experiences.
Journeys are meaningful when they become personal. Therefore, you are
invited to embark on a long personal journey that spans the theoretical past,
present, and future of our discipline. And, you are also encouraged to reflect
on your own theoretical journey and to compare and contrast your experience
and responses with that of other members of the discipline, as well as with
the journey of the discipline itself. All journeys will take on different
meanings—the insights from one journey will enhance the insights from
another. For your journey, take some time to question your values about
theory, your own assumptions about theoretical thinking, your biases against
theory, your goals for reviewing theoretical writings, and your goals for the
discipline of nursing. For the discipline’s journey, ask questions about the
discipline’s focus and ultimate goals, who establishes and drives these goals,
which discipline’s perspective is shaping these goals, in what ways these
goals may be congruent with overall health care goals and issues, and
whether these goals are the same for all health care professionals. Questions
that include “if then,” and “so what,” could help in promoting critical
thinking about the discipline and its role in the overall health care of
populations.
ASSUMPTION, GOALS, AND ORGANIZATIONS

This book is designed to provide tools and strategies to unfold the thought
processes inherent in nursing, analyze the origins of nursing concepts, and
contribute to the ongoing dialogue about the role of theoretical thinking in the
development of the discipline of nursing. Its intent is to provide the reader
with the knowledge base necessary to fully engage in and understand the
current situation in health care, and to begin to formulate ideas about how to
shape a future for nursing that is more theoretically coherent and effective.
This book is about theory, theorizing, and theoretical thinking. Critical
thinking is essential for theoretical thinking. Clinicians, theoreticians, and
researchers use different forms of theoretical activities in their work. When
theory is discussed, the discussion should include how nurses have been
theorizing and using theory in the different components of the discipline of
nursing, perhaps without attaching the label of “theory” to these activities. It
is also about how we can continue to advance the discipline of nursing
through knowledge development, enhance professional nursing through the
processes that nurses use in conceptualizing their actions, and facilitate better
care for clients through theory-based policies and theory-driven practices.
This book does not provide recipes for achieving these goals; instead, it
provides ideas, questions, processes, and some strategies to enable you to
pursue your own goals, develop your own action plans, and share your own
insights and wisdom with your colleagues.
The ideas contained in this book are articulated to compete vehemently
with any work that denigrates the theoretical history of nursing—past,
present, or future. At the same time, the ideas complement and are intended
to collaborate with all other writings of colleagues on theory and metatheory.
When I provide critique, I attempt to voice it from a nursing perspective,
place the critique within a historical context, and analyze the contributions,
allowing for the contextual forces and constraints.
This book is not intended to promote a certain epistemological perspective,
a certain theory, or a certain set of ontological propositions over any others.
Instead, this book explores, discusses, analyzes, critiques, compares, and
contrasts different epistemologies, theories of truth, and nursing theories. It
delineates components of theory and criteria for theory critique. It describes
different strategies used in the development of nursing theories and the
consequences of each strategy. This book is intended to be used by those who
want to understand significant aspects of the discipline of nursing that may
have been dichotomized with practice and shadowed by an emphasis on
education of nurses. The ideas presented in this book attempt to promote
understanding, not to dissect the discipline of nursing into separate
compartments, but rather to emphasize nursing as a discipline that is based on
the integration of philosophical dialogues, theoretical frameworks, practice
knowledge, and research findings. Although the focus is on nursing theories,
the relationships and interdependence among research, art, philosophy, and
practice are highlighted and explicated. The ultimate goals of the different
chapters are to stimulate critical thinking, inspire robust dialogue, and
challenge the status quo.
The development of the ideas for this book is based on several
assumptions:
• Understanding theory and its role is enhanced by exploring the origin of
ideas and the processes by which ideas develop into theories.
• Pluralism in nursing theories is desirable and inevitable; therefore, an
exploration of existing theories is essential for improving the utility of
theory and for continuing the development and progress of the
discipline.
• A critical assessment of the history of theoretical thought will pave the
way for the development of theories that further describe and prescribe
nursing practice. This understanding will help delineate issues that could
be resolved in the future.
• No evidence can exist without a coherent theoretical framework that
drives the questions and answers for practice.
ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK

To improve the potential of achieving the goals of understanding the role of
theory in the development and progress of the discipline, and of
understanding the role of members of the discipline in developing and
constructing theory, this book is organized into parts and chapters according
to potential illuminations throughout the journey. It is divided into six major
parts.
Part One describes terms of the theoretical journey, assumptions to guide
the journey, the lamp posts that define key elements of the journey, and the
destinations of the journey, as well as scholarship and what it means within
the context of the 21st century.
The second chapter in Part One focuses on the agents and producers of
knowledge—the scholars in the discipline. Different frameworks for
scholarship are analyzed, and scholarship is defined within the context of the
practice properties of the discipline. Scholarship includes giving careful
attention to the development of nursing theories and to ways in which nursing
theories are viewed and analyzed. Chapter 3 provides definitions of major
components of the journey and the journey outcomes.
Part Two presents a historical analysis of the discipline’s progress toward
its present theoretical perspective. Chapter 4 provides a discussion of the
forces and barriers that may have influenced theory development, and
therefore indirectly affected the scholarly evolution of the discipline of
nursing. Chapter 5 presents the evolution of the discipline of nursing and the
various stages that have been marked by significant turning points or
milestones. It provides trends and patterns of progress intended to stimulate
dialogue and reflection among the readers.
In Part Three, I provide an epistemological discussion of our discipline as
it is perceived and articulated by theorists and thought leaders in our
discipline. The dialogue and analysis provided reflect the thinking about our
discipline at the end of the second decade of the 21st century. This part
contains three chapters focused on defining the discipline of nursing, the
sources of its theoretical bases, and the major philosophical paradigms that
has influenced its knowledge base. More specifically, in Chapter 6, the
structure of the discipline of nursing is analyzed and discussed. The reader
will find definitions of the domain of nursing that provides the impetus for
programs of research, and the perspective of clinical practice that provides us
with assumptions and values. It is proposed that both the domain and the
perspective differentiate the discipline of nursing from other disciplines. The
discussion provides an analysis of the permeable boundaries of the discipline.
Readers are encouraged to reflect on whether those boundaries are
expandable or retractable in light of the many changes that are happening in
patterns of population’s health as well as in the delivery of health care.
Chapter 7 provides an analysis of the sources and resources used to develop
theory, and it dispels the myth that only research can be a source of theory.
Chapter 8 provides a proposed approach to analyzing the structural
components of the discipline and the different ways by which we claim
knowledge. The different paradigms that influenced theoretical development
of the discipline are explored. In addition, I provide a discussion of several
theories that guide how truth and evidence are considered.
Part Four focuses on the analyses of those theory pioneers who provided
the tipping point for initiating a robust theoretical and philosophical dialogue.
In Chapter 9, I provide an overall perspective on the theories by putting them
through magnifiers, telescopes, and microscopes. The result is an integrative
synthesis providing support for emerging categories. In Chapter 10, I provide
a discussion of the different analysis and critique models for evaluating the
quality and effectiveness of theories. The model provided differentiates
between strategies and processes for describing, analyzing, critiquing, and
testing theories. The remainder of Part Four is devoted to the use of the
model for theory description, analysis, critique, and testing for analyzing the
selected nursing theories. The selections, based on the theories’ central
questions, are matched with domain concepts. Therefore, the five chapters in
Part Four are organized around an integrative analysis of the theories,
focusing the analysis on three categories of theories: needs and self-care,
interactions, and outcomes theories.
Part Five is devoted to the future, without losing track of our past or the
context of our discipline. Frameworks and strategies for developing concepts
and theories are provided as processes and guideposts for a future of
influencing health care policies. This part focuses on processes of developing
theories, beginning in Chapter 14 with strategies for developing concepts,
followed by identifying sources for developing theories in Chapter 15.
Subsequently, Chapters 16 and 17 provide more specific strategies for
developing middle-range and situation-specific theories.
Part Six continues with a focus on the future. The question that I propose
to answer in Chapter 18 is “How do we measure progress in our discipline?”
Three theories of progress are discussed and analyzed for their utility in a
human science discipline that is dynamic and that continues to respond to
societal changes. Chapter 19 provides the challenges we must consider and
the paradoxes we must face to continue in our theoretical journey, to insure
that nursing science is growing and nursing practice models are making a
difference.
Part Seven contains two chapters. Chapter 20 presents an abstracted
analysis of selected central writings on metatheory and nursing theory. It is
not intended as a comprehensive compilation of abstracts of everything that
has been written about metatheory and theory; rather, it is intended as a
beginning—but central—collection that you are encouraged to use as a model
for your own collection of analytical abstracts. The analyses are intended to
provide a starting point for discussion and debate.
The last chapter of the book, Chapter 21, contains an extensive
bibliography on metatheory, on paradigms that have been used in nursing,
and on nursing theory. Sections 1 through 12 of this chapter contain the
metatheory literature and are organized around common themes in nursing
and theory, such as philosophy and methods, theory development in nursing,
forces and constraints in theory development, theory and science, theory and
research, theory and practice, theory and education, and theory analysis and
critique. Sections 13 through 37 contain writings about nursing theories by
theorists or others who have used the theories for research practice,
education, or administration. You can find all the writings related to a theory
—to the best of my knowledge—by looking under the theorist’s last name in
this section. In addition, there are two new sections on middle-range and
situation-specific theories, with many references reflecting both.
Asterisked citations in this chapter indicate citations that have been
abstracted and analyzed in the previous chapter under metatheory or theory.
Sections 38 through 48 contain writings on several central paradigms that
have influenced the discipline of nursing, including psychoanalytical theory,
symbolic interaction, developmental systems, adaptation, and role theories.
Sections 49 through 53 provide a descriptive list of audiotapes and videotapes
that have been created to explain the theorists’ ideas.
This book is designed to be used sequentially or nonsequentially. This free
use of each chapter and each part necessitates a slight repetition of ideas. The
repetitions emphasize and expand on significant themes and present the same
or similar ideas with a different analytical posture. This book ideally should
be used in five teaching/learning units: the first focusing on Part One and Part
Two, the second on Part Three, the third on Part Four, and the fourth on Part
Five which is devoted to strategies for developing theories. The fifth unit of
study should be devoted to dialogue about the future, and Part Six provides
the bases for such dialogue and reflections. Part Seven provides the necessary
supportive material for each of the parts and should be introduced at the
outset of utilizing the book.
ON A PERSONAL NOTE
Writing and reading books are both existential experiences and ongoing,
evolving processes. Neither the reader nor the writer is the same person after
reading or writing a book, nor are their ideas and viewpoints the same. A
book is never complete because ideas are never complete. Yet, at some point,
a project needs to be abandoned so that others can explore its ideas to modify,
extend, affirm, refine, or refute their own—all of which, if shared with the
author, will allow her to do the same. Sometime ago, I decided to abandon
the notion that this book is an individual endeavor. It is our book, a dynamic
project; it belongs to the readers as much as it belongs to me, and as much as
it reflects my thinking, engagement of the readers’ ideas and their constant
discourse is the ultimate goal. These assumptions continued to guide the
current edition.
I urge you to consider this book complete as well as incomplete, a
temporarily abandoned project that represents my own thinking and analysis
at a particular juncture. It incorporates my past, present, and future,
intermingled with the past, present, and future of nursing, of nurse theorists,
and of the historical and most recent literature. It is from all of this that my
present interpretation of theoretical nursing has evolved, but this continuous,
dynamic, and evolving process is presented here with temporal boundaries.
Therefore, if I misinterpreted any theorists’ or metatheorists’ admonitions, it
was unintentional, and my critique should be viewed as an honest
epistemological interpretation bounded by cognitive, historical, and
sociocultural meanings of the time.
I firmly believe that without the theorists and metatheorists and their
writings, this book would not have been written, and it would not have been
necessary. Interpretations and selections of theorists and metatheorists and
their ideas were not guided by a desire for omission, but rather by limitations
imposed by time and space. The conceptualizations of all theorists and all the
analyses of the metatheorists, whether included in this text or not, provide the
tapestry that depicts the future of theoretical nursing.
Finally, I have tried to avoid language that suggests stereotypical views of
the nurse, patient, and physician, but at times comprehension, clarity, and
simplicity have taken precedence. Because the majority of nurses are women,
I have used “she” to encompass both “she” and “he.”
REFLECTIVE QUESTIONS
The following are some questions to guide a reflective approach to your
journey:
1. Comment on this statement that is often heard: “I have practiced (or
taught) nursing for many years without the need to use theory, so
why do I need theory in a practice discipline?”
2. How did you come to define theory, nursing, human beings, and
health? What values and assumptions do these definitions hold, and
what courses of action are dictated by those values?
3. What theories guided you in your assessment of your patients, in
your research projects, and in your teaching methods? Why did you
select these theories? How congruent are the ontological beliefs of
these theories with your own and with those of the discipline of
nursing?
4. What criteria do you use in selecting or rejecting theories developed
in other disciplines to guide your actions? Compare and contrast
these criteria with those used in selecting or rejecting nursing
theories.
5. How do you measure progress in theoretical and scientific nursing?
Are these measures illuminated by an understanding of the daily
experiences of nurses caring for people? Are they guided by a
nursing perspective? Define that perspective. (Then respond to this
question again after reading Chapter 18.)
6. In what ways does your conception of the nursing perspective match
or not with your practice environment? With a curricular framework?
With a research framework?
2
_______
On Being and Becoming a Scholar
heory and theoretical thinking are intrinsically intertwined with

T advancing scholarship in any discipline. Established disciplines provide
an intellectual environment that nurtures and promotes scholarly inquiry, and
theory and theoretical propositions drive that inquiry. Theory development
encompasses these goals and outcomes of inquiry in the discipline that claims
scholarship.
The goal for scholarly work is to make a difference in the lives of the
people we are entrusted to care for. These may be individuals, families,
communities, populations, or whole societies. Scholarship is about making
that difference, either directly or indirectly, through developing evidence and
advancing knowledge.
There are several questions to consider when we think of the role of
scholarship in nursing. Some of these are:
• Is nursing a scholarly discipline?
• Do nurse scholars have the same attributes as other scholars?
• If there are differences, what might these differences be?
• Have there been changes in how the scholarly community views
scholarly work?
• In what ways did these changes shape scholarliness for the 21st century?
• Are there historical lessons that may shed better light on contemporary
views of scholarship?
These are a few questions to keep in mind as you, the readers, are critically
dialoguing with the ideas in this chapter.
SCHOLARLINESS IN NURSING
A scholarly discipline has a focus that is evident and significant as well as a
sustainable core of values and principles that guide its members’ goals and
actions. Scholarship in a discipline refers to the degree to which its mission is
defined and based on rigorous and credible research and on well-developed,
supported, and significant theories. Scholarship is evident in disciplines in
which knowledge and its progress are easily articulated, and in which
research and philosophical inquiries explore, examine, and answer significant
domain questions. Scholarliness in a discipline is defined by the extent to
which phenomena are articulated, and by the presence of a dynamic discourse
and debate about the scope and the boundaries of the discipline’s theoretical
assumptions and frameworks. Theory is an essential component of scholarly
disciplines; it provides members of the discipline with the means to articulate
their focuses. Theories in nursing and about nursing helped in defining the
focus of nursing. They gave nurses the concepts and the language to describe
its activities and roles.
Nursing theories to describe, explain, and predict the quality and outcomes
of nursing practice and nursing interventions were developed during the
decades of the 1960s to the 1980s to answer broad questions that were central
to the field of nursing. Although these questions at the time may have been
driven by an interest in curricula, they nevertheless addressed practice
indirectly. These questions concerned what knowledge is essential for
students, how to organize curricula, and what to include and what not to
include in a nursing curriculum. Answers were developed in the form of
theories that addressed the relationships among the nursing client,
environment, transitions, nursing process, nursing therapeutics, strategies for
nursing care, and health care goals and outcomes. The theories attempted to
describe the phenomenon of nursing and chart a theoretical course for nursing
actions. Thus, the beginnings of a scholarly discipline were created.
Rogers, in the late 1960s and early 1970s, used electromagnetic concepts
to explain human reactions to health and illness and to give philosophical
guidelines to nurses’ interventions. She talked about holism before holism
became part of our health care language (Rogers, 1970). Orem (1971) spoke
of self-care before the initiation of the self-care movement. Travelbee (1966)
pioneered the role of a nurse as the explorer of perceived meanings of
suffering, and she discussed the significance of spirituality in nursing care.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI
Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)
The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.
NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA
I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.
MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]
MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY
With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
“We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
BRAZIER
Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT
SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB
CUTTING THE EDGE

FINISHING THE BOTTOM
LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING
FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE
TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL
NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK
DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG
REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

BEATING THE BARK
WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT
MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN

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Theoretical Nursing: Development and

Progress Sixth Edition

Claudia Beckmann, PhD, RN, WHNP, BC, CNM

Miriam Bender, PhD, RN, CNL

Franco Carnevale, PhD, RN

Leslie L. Davis, PhD, RN, ANP-BC, FAHA

Ellen D’Errico, PhD, RN

Joseph DeSantis, PhD, ARNP, ACRN, FAAN

Nancy Dluhy, PhD, RN

Bobbe Ann Gray, PhD, RNC-OB, CNS-BC

Susan Sweat Gunby, PhD, RN

Debra R. Hanna, PhD, RN

Brenda Hosley, PhD, RN

Cynthia Jacelon, PhD, RN-BC, CRRN, FAAN

Norma Kiser-Larson, PhD, CNE

Deborah Lindell, DNP, RN, CNE, ANEF

Rozzano Locsin, PhD, RN, FAAN

Star Mahara, MSN, RN

Ruth McCaffrey, DNP, ARNP, FNP-BC, GNP-BC

Jennifer Robinson, PhD, RN, CNE, FAHA

Beth Rogers, PhD, RN, FAAN

Jacqueline R. Saleeby, PhD, RN

Anne Thomas, PhD, MSN, BSN

Joan Tilghman, PhD, RN, CRNP

hy produce a sixth edition of the book? And why at this particular

Afaf Ibrahim Meleis, PhD, FAAN, LL

riting and/or revising a book is an experience that is only understood

Afaf Ibrahim Meleis

2 On Being and Becoming a Scholar

3 Theory: Metaphors, Symbols, and Definitions

5 On the Way to Theoretical Nursing: Stages and Milestones

7 Sources, Resources, and Paradoxes for Theory

8 Our Syntax: An Epistemological Analysis

11 On Needs and Self-Care

16 Developing Middle-Range Theories

17 Developing Situation-Specific Theories

19 Fifth-Generation Theorists: Passion for Advancing Theory

21 Historical and Current Theory Bibliography

OUR THEORETICAL JOURNEY

Positioning for the Journey

isciplines should be dynamic to respond to emerging and changing

BEGINNING THE JOURNEY

ASSUMPTION, GOALS, AND ORGANIZATIONS

ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK

On Being and Becoming a Scholar

heory and theoretical thinking are intrinsically intertwined with

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI