"Mali" Ancestry

Another interesting thing about the Ancestry Update is seeing the 4 reference populations used for their "Mali" region. This area is based on the Bambara, Dogon, Fula and Mende, although they also state that populations with similar genetic background can be found in Burkina Faso, Cote D'Ivoire, Gambia, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Niger, Senegal (as well as Mali and Sierra Leone). Our Haitian parent, the origin of our "Mali" ancestry, has also matched with people from this region as distant cousins (1 from Mali, another from Sierra Leone of a Mandinka background). Since "Mandingues" and "Bambaras" were present in Saint-Domingue, it seems very likely that some of our ancestors came from this region of West Africa. Indeed, Ancestry assigned us 6% in the 2024 update, and the "hacked" results put it at 6.89% for "Mali." Perhaps some of our distant forebears were from Segu or Kaarta, but were captured and sold to the French slave traders on the coast of Senegal?

Ancestry's "Senegal" category also overlaps with this, which we inherited from both sides for a total of 4% (3.80% according to the "hacked" results). Alas, the specific ethnic groups used as reference for this category are not listed, although we know Poulards, "Senegalois" and Wolofs were in Saint-Domingue. We suspect the "Senegal" inherited from our Spanish Caribbean ancestry might reflect some of the ethnic groups known to be in the West Indies in the 1500s and 1600s, such as the Wolof, Berbersi, and others. Unfortunately, without knowing the ethnic breakdown of the reference populations for "Senegal" and other West African regions, like Ivory Coast and Ghana, it is difficult to say. 

North-Central Nigeria...

Although these popular genealogy/ancestry DNA tests should always be used cautiously, we do find Ancestry's 2024 update to be worthy of attention. They seem to be trying harder at distinguishing the various subregions of African countries. Thus, Nigeria, an enormous place occupied by a plethora of ethnic groups, finally has a number of new regions. It looks like other parts of sub-Saharan Africa may have to wait for a subsequent update to see this level of detail, but it's a step in the right direction. However, comparing our results and those of our Haitian parent to their previous results, we notice that the 2024 update seems to minimize Cameroon, Congo, and Western Bantu Peoples percentages. Since in both of our cases, our sub-Saharan African ancestry was always overwhelmingly West African, the latest update was not too different from past results. However, we wonder if the creation of new Nigeria regions may have absorbed some of the Cameroon that was previously lumped into the older category of Cameroon, Congo and Western Bantu Peoples. 

Unfortunately, in our case we did not see any African sub-regional breakdowns besides Central Nigeria and North-Central Nigeria, each one at an estimated 5%. Central Nigeria is "centered" upon the Niger-Benue Confluence region, stretching north and south to what seems to us as an unknown extent. This presumably overlaps with North-Central Nigeria, also assigned at 5%, which is centered on the area of Hausaland in northern Nigeria and southern Niger (but including the following ethnic groups: Afizere, Anaguta, Atyap, Berom, Ham and Hausa). Of course, there are other ethnic groups in Northern Nigeria, but North-Central seems to emphasize the Hausa in the north. Central Nigeria, on the other hand, remains a vague label, but based on the following groups as reference: Agatu (Idoma North), Ake, Alago (Idoma Nokwu), Arum, Bu, Eggon (Mo Egon), Gwandara, Mada, Mama, Mijili (aJijili), Ninzo, and Rindre . If the North-Central Nigeria percentage is accurate, however, perhaps we do have "Hausa" ancestry. After all, a small but noticeable number of Hausa were enslaved in Saint-Domingue. But far more Igbo were imported, and a Nupe presence was also present. Historian David Geggus found at least 227 Hausa in Saint-Domingue, plus another 60 "Gambari" based on his study of sex ratios of the enslaved population from 1721-1797. 

The Lāmīb̳e of Fombina : a political history of Adamawa, 1809-1901

The Lāmīb̳e of Fombina : a political history of Adamawa, 1809-1901 by Sa'ad Abubakar analyzes the rise and fall of a jihadist state founded by the Fulbe, or Fulani, in the vast region of Fombina. Unlike other emirates within the Sokoto Caliphate, Fombina lacked a prior history of political centralization. Instead, the large province was shared by a plethora of ethnic groups living in small chiefdoms. The Fulani int he area, who already had a presence by the 18th century, were also divided into smaller clan and lineage groups. While Borno and Mandara had some degree of influence in the area through trade, raiding and conquest, and the Jukun state appears to have exerted some degree of influence there previously, Fombina's non-Fulbe lived in "theocratic" chiefdoms and small-scale polities. Long-distance trade was limited and the Fulani in the pre-jihad period lived under the dictates of the non-Muslim, non-Fulani sedentary populations. That said, the Fulani themselves were only weakly Islamized prior to the 19th century, preferring to live by pulaku and customary laws and tradition rather than Islamic ones. 

Nonetheless, events in the 19th century led to a rapid transformation of this area, turning it into one of the largest yet most decentralized emirates of the Sokoto Caliphate. The jihad in Fombina, propelled by Modibbo Adama, was strengthened by incoming Fulani migrants who were fleeing Borno after al-Kanemi's victories against Gwoni Mukhtar and other jihadists. In addition, some of the Fulani clan leaders led an expansion into the southern areas to claim new pasture and lands, subjugating pagan sedentary groups. By the 1840s, with a capital established at Yola, the Adamawa emirate was a large, decentralized state with various sub-emirates that largely acted independently of Yola. According to Abubakar, this decentralized nature of Adamawa was due to the incomplete conquest of the Habe populations in the region (many rebelled and sometimes cut off loyal provinces) and the resistance of Fulani Ardo'en and sub-emirs to obey the emir in Yola. While tribute and participation in the military campaigns of the emir were expected and could be gained from loyal provinces, southern sub-emirates often ignored or rebelled against this. In addition, not all Fulani clans were included in the Adamawa leadership, and Islam itself was not widely practiced or observed by the Fulani. Thus, some ignored or disobeyed the emir at Yola. This problem only worsened as some of the sub-emirates experienced dynastic crises or internal wars over succession, a problem the ruler at Yola could not always alleviate. 

Ultimately, by the end of the century, the partition of this vast, loosely joined state was inevitable. British, French and German interests in the Benue and Chad Basin made its longevity numbered. The state, to its credit, was able to consolidate some of its gains and implement a real administrative machinery (with titles borrowed from Hausa and Kanuri, as well as other parts of the Sokoto Caliphate), and the use of slaves for food crop production and the promotion of trade (particularly ivory) did promote some degree of economic development and improvement in conditions for Fulani and allied leaders. Furthermore, the invitation extended to Muslim scholars and pilgrims attracted a larger class of pious Islamic leaders, who in turn promoted a deeper spread and adherence to Islam. Earlier in its existence, it also scored victories against Mandara and was able to protect its northern border with Borno. The state was even able to survive the Mahdist movement and the Sudanese warlord, Rabeh, ultimately falling to the European powers. 

The central theme here appears to be one in which the incomplete centralization of the Adamawa Emirate hindered its ability to establish a stable political system. Of course, This uneven centralization of the state appears to have been a result of the region's lack of such a system before the 19th century, as well as the particular nature of Fulbe society and political traditions. Thus, instead of a jihadist state that had the political traditions of Hausa states with centuries of political traditions, Modibbo Adama and his successors had to create one wholesale, borrowing from the ideals of the Sokoto Caliphate, Borno, and Hausaland. Indeed, Adama is said to have studied and lived in Borno and adopted some of its titled positions in his administration, testifying to the importance of these older political systems in Adamawa attempt at reforms. Abubakar likewise endeavors to include pagan, non-Fulbe peoples as part of this story, albeit their perspective is more dependent on oral tradition and often lost in the entangled histories of the various sub-emirates. 

Damagaram

Due to the founder of Damagaram's ruling dynasty's links to the 17th century Islamic settlement of Kalumbardo, the history of this state is yet another interesting product of that famous community of mystics. It is also worthy of study since it went from being a peripheral vassal state of Borno to becoming one of the major powers and trading centers of the Central Sudan in the 19th century. Salifou's history, Le Damagaram ou Sultanat de Zinder au XIXe siècle, endeavors to provide a complete history of this vital century. Relying on colonial-era documents like the Tilho Mission, translated Arabic chronicles or local texts, and oral sources from informants in the region today, he largely succeeds in providing a synthetic overview of the area's rise and fall with attention paid to economic, social, political, military, and cultural factors.

According to Salifou, Damagaram's Maalaam, or Malam, the founder of the ruling dynasty, did not establish a kingdom as such in the late 17th century. Instead, after fleeing the destruction of Kalumbardo (and supposedly said to be the son of a Sayfawa princess in one source), he established himself in the region of Damagaram. He and his sons for the next several generations, ruled villages but not as a united kingdom. That development appears to have only occurred by the 19th century, when Damagaram began to become a major player. The apogee was achieved under Tanimun, who continued the kingdom's expansion, improved the administrative and military capacity of the state (using slave officials and manufacturing and importing firearms and cannons) and increasingly acted autonomously of Borno. Indeed, this reversal of relations between the tributary state of Damagaram and Borno under Shehu Umar is clear due to Damagaram's central role as a trans-Saharan trade center through which Borno received northern imports. Damagaram, however, continued to pay a costly tribute to the Shehus of Borno, but were able to act autonomously and absorb their neighbors.

Overall, Salifou's short history of 19th century Damagaram provides an overview of this complex region during an era of great change in the Central Sudan (the impact of the jihad of Uthman dan Fodio, the decline of Borno, and European colonialism). Damagaram's rapid rise at this late date is undoubtedly due to this dynamic. It soon became a regional player whose military power was so feared that even Borno cancelled a campaign against it. Damagaram was also able to stabilize relations with the Tuareg, establish sharia law, produce firearms and cannons (albeit less effective than the imports), and profit from dynamic commercial links with slaves, salt, natron, textiles, and ostrich feathers as major commodities. To Salifou's credit, he acknowledged the central role of slavery and the slave trade in all of this, although the negative impact of this trade on leading to a state of constant war and aggression (plus the negative impact of Arab or North African financiers and traders who wanted slaves for northern markets) is perhaps not fully elucidated. Furthermore, given the limited sources for Damagaram, especially for developments before the 19th century, it might be beneficial to consider writing a general history of Kutus, Damergu, Damagaram, Minaw and nearby areas from the 17th to 19th centuries. Perhaps this greater regional context would provide readers a greater sense of Borno's long-term interests in this area and how, once Borno's decline began, smaller polities like Damagaram could rise to local and regional significance.

Talaka and Talakawa

Talaka or talakawa means commoner in Hausa, but various sources attribute the word's origin to Kanuri or Tuareg (Berber). The term's widespread use among Berber-speaking communities as well a various Sahelian and West African cultures with links to trans-Saharan trade point to a Berber origin. The term's Berber origins can be seen in the following passage from Dictionnaire des racines berberes communes: Suivi d’un index français-berbère des termes relevés by M. A. Haddadou:

L£W luqqet « être pauvre, p. ext. être humble et doux , être humble, doux et pieux » selleqqet « rendre pauvre » taleqqe, pl. tileqqewîn « homme, femme pauvre » (To) taleqqi, pl. tleqqiwin « homme, femme pauvre » (Ghd) taleqqi « misère, pauvreté » (Wrg) taleqqi, pl. tileqqwin « pauvreté, misère » (Mzb)

Indeed, even deep into the Sahara, among the Tedas and Dazas, the word is used. Others point to its existence in Mandingue, Bambara and other West African languages. It is remarkable that a word to designate commoners and the poor is shared across so many cultures with links to the Sahara, Sahel, or trans-Saharan trade. Intriguingly, the word does not appear to be of Arabic origin. Perhaps its widespread occurrence across many languages in and around the Sahara is a testament to the increased role of trans-Saharan trade in social divisions and status? And, undoubtedly, the strong presence of Berber speakers among the Muslim traders and residents in the Sahel. 

Research Guidelines

Reading some of the research guidelines for projects in the 1980s on the history of Quranic education in Borno and the biographies of the ulama of the Central Sudan since the 15th century was an interesting experience. Although the projects seem to have never took off, the short publications tied to the Centre for Trans-Saharan Studies at the University of Maiduguri contain a number of interesting ideas, bibliographies and a rough plan for how to conduct these vast research projects. Alas, with the exception of a tabaqat of Borno ulama in Bobboyi's dissertation, The 'Ulama of Borno: A study of the relations between scholars and state under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808" and the project edited by Hunwick and others on Arabic literature in the Central Sudan, we are still in the dark about these rich topics. 

On the Zagwe Dynasty

Marie-Laure Derat's L’énigme d’une dynastie sainte et usurpatrice dans le royaume chrétien d’Ethiopie, XIe-XIIIe siècle is an intriguing and challenging work. The lack of adequate documentation for most of the rulers of the Zagwe dynasty and the problematic reliance on oral traditions, hagiographies and historiography based on the Solomonic legend of the subsequent dynasty makes it rather difficult to establish with greater clarity what was the Zagwe dynasty. However, using the available Arabic sources (particularly Copts writing the history of the Patriarchate of Alexandria), later hagiographies, archaeological evidence, and inscriptions, land grants and kings lists, Derat proposes some new interpretations while raising more questions. Derat does this while endeavoring to understand the paradox of how the Zagwe rulers were seen as both usurpers yet holy.

For example, the assumption of an Agaw or Cushitic origin of the Zagwe dynasty is far from clear. Further, the oral traditions compiled by Conti Rossini are contradictory and difficult to make sense of. Instead of assuming a Cushitic or Agaw origin, Derat proposes a model in which the Zagwe rulers emerged from a long-lasting second wave of Christianization that occured in the late Aksumite and post-Aksumite period in eastern Tigray. Archaeological evidence indicates there an area of ongoing church construction and thriving Christian communities, perhaps leading to a reunified Ethiopian Christian kingdom that reestablished contact with the Patriarchate in Egypt. Derat even suggests that the famous rock-hewn churches at the site associated with the most illustrious Zagwe ruler, Lalibela, were not built because of Muslims prohibiting Ethiopians from making the pilgrimage there. Indeed, the Zagwe appear to have contributed to the Christianization of an already used space, building marvels that were associated with rulers like Lalibela. Their donations to churches and ecclesiastical groups similarly exemplify their efforts to reinforce their rule as patrons of the Church and monasteries. 

Unfortunately, since it is so difficult to disentangle the problematic sources written during the Solomonic era and shed light on the Zagwe dynasty from sources written during their dynasty. The genealogy of rulers is uncertain, the hagiographies were written after their fall and promote the idea of the holiness of some as saints while also accepting the Solomonic legend of the legitimate dynasty which took over in 1270. Nonetheless, it does seem like the standard narrative on the Zagwe dynasty in Ethiopian historiography is in need of substantial change. Portraying them as "Cushitic" or Agaw usurpers against "legitimate" Semitic Solomonic rulers or implying that the former practiced matrilineal succession based on the contradictory sources available indicate this problem quite well. All one can say is that the Zagwe rulers such as Lalibela and Yemrehanna Krestos achieved sainthood while modeling an idealized kingship, one which was later adopted by Zara Yaq'ob and subsequent Solomonic rulers. This paradox of usurpers and holy rulers may reflect that long process of Christianization in other regions of the kingdom which, influenced by the traditions of the Kebra Negast and apocalyptic literature from Coptic and Syriac sources, later emerged the Solomonic dynasty as heirs to Aksum.