Muslims in Saint Domingue

Despite some of the strong assertions by scholars of a prominent role played by enslaved Muslims in Saint Domingue, most sources do appear not support that narrative. Two scholars in particular, Diouf and Gomez, promote unsubstantiated or speculative claims of prominent leaders among the slave rebels being Muslim. A Haitian blogger, Salnave, has dedicated several articles to disproving the thesis, albeit adding some of his own speculations in certain cases. So, what do the sources actually reveal about the presence of Muslims among the enslaved in Saint Domingue? And of what import does it come to bear on the history of slavery and Haiti? And how has the narrative of Islamic influences in the Haitian Revolution contributed to or hindered our understanding of it?

First, the sources can be uncertain or vague, and it is wrong-headed to attribute a Muslim identity to an African based on the name or assigned "nation." Our nearly encyclopedic source of information about the colony, Moreau de Saint-Méry, mentioned that many of the enslaved West Africans coming from the regions of the Senegal River to Sierra Leone were Muslims, but they mix Islam with idolatry. These aforementioned "nations" of Africans consisted of the Senegalese, Wolof, Poulards, Bambaras, Quiambas, Mandingues, Bissagots, and Soso, groups whose islamization, in some cases, postdates Haitian independence. In addition to some Islamic influences among captives from that region of West Africa, he claimed there were some Muslims from other areas of West Africa who mixed some Islamic practices with their idolatry (these "nations" coming from the lands from Cap Apollonie to the Gold Coast and Galba). However, Moreau de Saint-Méry's proves himself somewhat unreliable because he claims one of the few ways to tell if some West Africans were Muslim is if they were circumcised. He appears to think circumcision in Africa is linked to Islam, so one must question his claims of Islamic practices and influences upon the enslaved population. But his assertions of a Muslim presence among some of these groups is supported by Charlevoix, whose history of Saint Domingue mentions some Senegal Muslims in the colony.

Moreover, he also reveals himself to be a questionable witness because he claims the "Congo" included some with Islamic practices. The presence of Islam in West Central Africa during the 18th century was likely minimal, far less influential there than West Africa. Unless some of the captives came from areas of what are now eastern Congo, the Central African Republic, or Chad, their exposure to Islam was probably non-existent. Furthermore, many of the aforementioned "nations" who may have been Muslim or exposed to Islam, were largely practicing "traditional" religions until the 19th and 20th centuries (the Bambara come to mind). It is certainly possible that some of the previously mentioned West African "nations" included Muslims, as well as the Hausa, Yoruba, and Nupe, and additional captives from southeastern Africa. Indeed, there is also a remote chance of Muslim captives arriving in the colony from the Swahili Coast, Madagascar or India, though very unlikely. However, without more sources, assuming a significant Muslim presence among the enslaved population of Saint Domingue is speculative.

Another source used by Diouf and Gomez, Colonel Malenfant, attests to the presence of some literate Muslims in the colony. During the Haitian Revolution, slave rebels sometimes wore amulets with Arabic writing, a practice that was also common among non-Muslim groups in West Africa. Malenfant also describes an encounter with a literate African, named Tamerlan, who claimed to have come from a kingdom where writing and the production of books was common. Gomez deduced that Tamerlan was likely from a Muslim kingdom in West Africa, and the example of writing he produced for Malenfant, a long prayer of twenty lines written in a script Malenfant could not recognize, may have been ajami. Nonetheless, based on Malenfant's account of Tamerlan's literacy (one in a script associated with "long-haired mulattoes," perhaps the Tuareg or another population in the Sahel), Tamerlan assured him it was not Arabic. But, if it was ajami writing, however, one would think Tamerlan could have explained that to Malenfant? 

But, other details of Tamerlan's life before captivity do suggest a possible Muslim background. In addition to his role as a priest, instructor to a prince and maker of books or manuscripts, or so he claimed, he revealed to Malenfant that his hometown possessed 300,000 inhabitants. This is probably a reference to the total population the surrounding area of the capital city, not the royal capital itself. Intriguingly, the former capital city of the Bornu kingdom was, according to Dixon Denham, 200,000, before its fall during the early 19th century. It is likely that the majority of the structures in the city were constructed with wood or straw, like other cities of West Africa. Is there a chance Tamerlan was from the Kingdom of Bornu? He also said that he had not seen whites in his city, but the aforementioned long-haired mulattoes, probably a reference to the Tuareg or Berbers. He probably would have met other "whites" from Arab populations connected to Bornu via trans-Saharan networks, so uncertainty lingers. When he was captured, it took more than 3 months for him to reach the coast, where whites loaded the captives onto slave ships. This suggests he was from deep in the interior of what was most likely West Africa. The city of his king was built in wood, mostly of single-story homes. If true, then Tamerlan came from a very large city ruled by a powerful king. It is possible Tamerlan exaggerated some of these details to give an image of greater grandeur to his African past, but he clearly longed to return. According to Malenfant, he was one of the "few" Africans who wised to return to the continent, which suggests he probably enjoyed a position of great status. In consideration of all of the above, it is possible Tamerlan was indeed a Muslim from West Africa, but Malenfant's account is shrouded in hazy memory and doubt to prove it. Either way, Malenfant's memory of Tamerlan was linked to accounts of Muslim slaves in Saint Domingue.

Our next, and perhaps best source on Muslims in Saint Domingue, may corroborate a Muslim origin of Tamerlan. Etienne Michel Descourtilz, while at the Rossignol-Desdunes habitation in the Artibonite, collected details and accounts of the various African "nations" he encountered in Saint Domingue. For most, there is no mention of Islam. "Nations" which may have contained Islamic practitioners were not mentioned as Muslim. For instance, the Mozambiques are classified as Catholic and "Vaudoux" adherents, suggesting that most of the captives from southeastern Africa were not Muslim. There could have been a few who were, either from Mozambique, Tanzania, or Madagascar, but without sources it remains speculation. If anything, Descourtilz's experiences with Africans in Artibonite and Saint Domingue attests to the limited presence of Muslims among the enslaved, as the vast majority are mentioned with any reference to Islam.

Yet, Descourtilz does provide the best direct evidence of practicing Muslims in Saint Domingue. His two groups are the Phylani (Fulani), the Islamized among the Poulard of West Africa, and the "Beurno." His account of the former compares them to the Jews, although he describes their god as being Allah. The Phylani lived a nomadic lifestyle in Africa, stressed filial piety, and referred to their priest as "alpha." The Phylani group's religious holidays, abstention from pork, and prayers clearly demonstrate Islamic practices. Their priest or alpha was also literate, like Tamerlan. Besides the Phylani Muslim community in the colony, who were probably a very tiny one, Descourtilz wrote about the "Beurno" and their kingdom in Africa with some detail. According to Descourtilz, some slaves from "Beurno" toiled on the Rossignold-Desdunes plantation, thereby giving him multiple chances to speak with and observe the customs of "Beurno" Africans. 

"Beurno" is undoubtedly a reference to Bornu, a long-established kingdom in West Africa with roots in ancient Kanem. Their kings had converted to Islam several centuries before, and many of its subjects appear to have converted to Islam long before the Fulani jihads of the 1800s. Evidence of the Islamic influence upon the "Bornu" Africans can be found in what Descourtilz described as their strict submission of women to men, and gender separation of married women and men. According to Descourtilz, the religion of the Bornu resembled that of the Phylani, and they shared in their abstention from pork (they only consumed meat blessed by their alpha, or priest). Literacy was also present among the Bornu, who can read, write, transmit the code of their divine law. Descourtilz even described their custom of writing on wooden planks, a custom still seen in parts of Muslim West Africa. The religious texts produced in Bornu were highly valued, and many were willing to pay dearly or sell their livestock to purchase said texts. In short, the "Beurno" described by Descourtilz were, in at least some cases, devout Muslims whose social practices were influenced by Islam. The description of the king of "Beurno" and the prevalence of the slave trade also confirms the Bornu identification, although the specific "Beurno" captives met by Descourtilz were the defeated in a battle with rivals of Bornu.

So, via Descourtilz, we have direct accounts of at least two Islamized groups in Saint Domingue. It is unclear what their total numbers were, but a group of the "Beurno" were working at the Rossignol-Desdunes plantation. For the Phylani Muslims, their numbers were likely small, too. Descourtilz does not offer much in terms of understanding the influence of these two groups on other slaves, and their small numbers and distinct religion may have encouraged them to look inward and try to preserve some of their customs and practices. If they were like African Muslims in other parts of the Caribbean, they may have been able to survive as a small community for a few generations. But, if evidence from Trinidad and elsewhere is relevant to Saint Domingue and Haiti, one would think most of the Muslims in Saint Domingue vanished after a few generations or merged into the general population, possibly converting to Catholicism or joining Vodou adherents. I have yet to come across any sources attesting to Muslim communities after independence, and claims of Muslim Mandingue in Balan are likely exaggerated. 

 To conclude, one must admit the idea of an Islamic contribution to the making of Haiti clearly resonates with some of the African Diaspora. To me, it seems to be a reflection of inaccurate histories of Islam in Africa, black nationalist romances of Islam as "our religion" and, in some cases, an outdated civilizationist and vindicationist discourse used by some Haitian intellectuals to elevate the status of some of our forebears. Clearly, Price-Mars and Jean Fouchard thought very highly of the famous kingdoms and empires of the medieval Western Sudan. Some, like Fouchard, attribute literacy and refinement to these people through their contact with Arabs and Islam. Thus, they can foment a counter-narrative that suggests our African ancestors were not all illiterate peoples removed from the most important aspects of civilization. Of course, one would hope proponents of the Islamic theory distance themselves from that paradigm, but there is still a remnant of it in the way some scholars describe the esteem enslaved Muslims received from their masters. Undoubtedly it lives on through the legacy of Edward Blyden and 20th century Black Muslim movements. Regardless, we are stuck at the impasse described in Reed's Mumbo Jumbo, with Islam, Vodun, and "Atenism" as competing forces. 

Ultimately, the benefit of this revisionist scholarship, for what it's worth, is that it does shed light and add nuance to our understanding of the various peoples in Saint Domingue. It helps piece together who the forced migrants were, what their values may have been, and the kinds of societies from which they sprang. Indeed, Descourtilz's essay on the African "nations" of Saint Domingue was intimately linked to a history of Africa. Malenfant recognized the great use captives like Tamerlan could have for the European exploration of the African continent. Consequently, studying the origins of the African populations of Saint Domingue is also a study of the history of Africa. But until new evidence emerges, the tale of Islam in Saint Domingue will be one of a small minority who have contributed to the mosaic of Africa that is Haiti. The blog of Salnave has already demonstrated how limited the Islamic presence was and its role in the Haitian Revolution, but there will always be room for new interpretations and conclusions about the birth of Haiti.

Bibliography 

Charlevoix, Pierre-François-Xavier de, and Jean Baptiste Le Pers. Histoire de l'isle espagnole ou de S. Domingue: ecrite particulierement sur des memoires manuscrits du p. Jean-Baptiste le Pers, Jesuite, missionnaire à Saint Domingue, & sur les pieces originales, qui se conservent au Dépôt de la marine. Amsterdam: F. L'Honoré, 1733.

Denham, Dixon, Hugh Clapperton, and Walter Oudney. Travels and Discoveries in Northern and Central Africa: In 1822, 1823, and 1824. London: J. Murray, 1831.

Descourtilz, Michel Étienne. Voyages d'un naturaliste, et ses observations faites sur les trois regnes de la Nature, dans plusieurs ports de mer francais, en Espagne, au continent d'Amerique septentrionale, a Saint-Yago de Cuba, et a Saint Domingue, ou l'Auteur devenu le prisonnier de 40,000 Noirs revoltes, et par suite mis en liberte par une colonne de l'armee frangais, donne des details circonstancies sur l'expedition du general Leclerc, 3 vols. Paris: Dufart, 1809.

Diouf, Sylviane A. Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas. New York: New York University Press, 1998. 

Geggus, David. "The French Slave Trade: An Overview." The William and Mary Quarterly 58, no. 1 (2001): 119-38. Accessed October 3, 2020. doi:10.2307/2674421.

Gomez, Michael A. Black Crescent: The Experience and Legacy of African Muslims in the Americas. Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 

Khan, Aisha. "Islam, Vodou, and the Making of the Afro-Atlantic." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 86, no. 1/2 (2012): 29-54. Accessed October 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41850693.

Malenfant, Col. Des colonies, et particulièrement de celle de Saint-Dominique: mémoire historique et politique, ou l'on trouvera, 1o un exposé impartial des causes et un précis historique des guerres civiles qui ont rendu cette dernière colonie indépendante, 2o des considérations sur l'importance de la rattacher à la métropole et sur les moyens de le renter avec succès, d'y ramener une paix durable, d'en rétablir et accroître la prospérité.
Paris: Audibert, (C.-F. Patris), 1814.

Moreau de Saint-Méry, Méderic Louis Élie. Description topographique, physique, civile, politique et historique de la partie françoise de l'isle Saint-Domingue. 3 vols. Philadelphia:  1797.

Salnave, Rodney. "Saint Domingue's islamized were submissive". September 29, 2020 ; Updated Sept. 30, 2020. [online] URL : https://bwakayiman.blogspot.com/2020/09/Saint-Domingues-submissive-islamized.html ; Retrieved on October 1, 2020.

Church and State in Medieval Ethiopia

Due to its central importance as a key study of medieval Ethiopian history, we finally read Taddesse Tamrat's important study. While definitely reflecting some of the older biases in the scholarship on ancient Ethiopia, particularly the role of speakers of Semitic languages from South Arabia as civilizing agents, it remains a definitive study of the early centuries of the Solomonic dynasty. Indeed, Tamrat's work demonstrates how effective hagiographical literature from the region can be for reconstructing the distant past. These sources of course have their limitations and raise additional problems, but Tamrat seems judicious and capable of parsing the likely and factual information from them to form a coherent historical narrative of Church-State relations. In addition to hagiographies, Ethiopian land grants, royal chronicles, and external Arabic and European sources, Tamrat occasionally uses local traditions to shed further light on the contours of the Solomonic state's development.

Tamrat's study basically outlines the development of the Solomonic dynasty from 1270 until the period before Ahmad Gragn nearly defeated the Solomonic rulers of the Christian state. Beginning with the somewhat dated overview of Aksumite origins and Christianity in the region through the Zagwe dynasty, Tamrat proceeds to cover the next few centuries. Territorial expansion under the Solomonic rulers, particularly Amda-Seyon, favored the resurgence and growth of monastic communities, evangelization of some conquered peoples, an efflorescence of Ethiopian literature, and the Christian kingdom becoming the dominant power in the region. Already one can see Ethiopian Christianity diverging from the Coptic Church, especially over the issue of observance of the Sabbath (seen as a Jewish custom by the Patriarchs in Alexandria). 

Religious differences within the Ethiopian Christian community, conflicts with pagan and Muslim neighbors and subjects, and complications with Muslim rulers of Egypt and Alexandria all illustrate how Ethiopian Christianity was never isolated or removed from the fate of the state. Thus, under strong rulers like Zara Yaqob, the Church was unified and the force of the government assisted monastic communities, the spread of churches, and even Ethiopian communication with Christian Europe. Unfortunately, the problems of succession, the dependence on the Egyptian bishop to ordain local priests, Muslim expansion under Adal, and the failure to integrate subjugated "pagan" and Muslims paved the path to the near disintegration of the Empire in the 1500s.

In some respects, the Solomonic dynasty reminds this blog of our favorite African imperial line, the Sayfawa. Although obviously distinct as one was Muslim and the other Christian, both lasted for several centuries. Both experienced periods of decline, civil war, succession crises, conflicts with "pagan" neighbors (and, according to some sources, "Christian Kwararafa" or Christian "Gaoga" opposed the Sayfawa), and a strong association with their official religions. Indeed, studies of the ulama and Islam in Kanem-Borno illustrate a similar close association between the ruling house and their monotheistic religion. Of course, the surviving written sources from Ethiopia significantly outnumber what we have for Kanem-Borno, but one wonders to what extent a comparative perspective on the two dynasties might reveal for African precolonial political longevity, religion, intellectual development, or even statecraft. Naturally, the Horn of Africa was better known to the outside world at an earlier date than the Lake Chad Basin, but we still think there is something to be said for contextualizing the development of these long-lasting dynasties in a "Sudanic" context.

Poncet's Voyage to Ethiopia

Charles Jacques Poncet's relation of his voyage to Ethiopia in the late 17th century is a fascinating portrait of the Funj Sultanate in today's Sudan and Solomonic Ethiopia under Emperor Iyasu I. Ostensibly voyaging to Ethiopia to provide medical services to the Ethiopian ruler, Poncet was involved with a plan to reintroduce the Jesuits into Ethiopia while also promoting the idea of an Ethiopian embassy to Louis XVI. As a reputable physician in Cairo, Poncet seemed perfect for the mission, and left behind a very flattering portrait of Ethiopia for his French and European readers. While the Jesuits never did become a significant force in Gondarine Ethiopia, and the Ethiopian embassy to France failed to reach the court of Louix XIV, Poncet is one of our richest sources on Ethiopia and the Funj Sultanate. 

Ethiopians may have distrusted Jesuits and Catholics, as well as practicing forms of discrimination against local Muslims, but Ethiopia from Fasiladas to Iyasu I cannot be said to have practiced isolationist policies. In addition to attempted overtures to the Mughals in India and the Dutch East India Company in Batavia during the second half of the 17th century, Poncet portrays close relations and economic ties between the Funj Sultanate and the Solomonic rulers of Ethiopia. Indeed, a brother of reigning king of Sennar was living at the court of Iyasu I, and trade ties were close between the two regions. One almost sees Ethiopia, and the capital Gondar, as being part of the larger "Sudanic" and Nile Valley trade systems that intersected with Mediterranean and trans-Saharan networks. In addition, Ethiopia benefited from the Funj's trade across the Red Sea and Indian Ocean while also having relations with the Ottoman Pasha in Massawa. Thus, Gondarine Ethiopia appears to have been a node in Sudanic, trans-Saharan, Northeast African caravan trade, and Indian Ocean networks that stretched to India and Europe. 

Unfortunately, Poncet did not provide more details on the movement of people and goods between the Funj Sultanate and Gondarine Ethiopia. Both rulers split the duties on cotton exported to Ethiopia from Sennar at the market town of Chelga, and "Gebertis" Muslims from Ethiopia seem to have played a key role in commerce between the states. Poncet also mentioned an Ethiopian in Sennar who had converted to Islam, a Joseph, who was executed. Nevertheless, it makes one ponder the links Gondarine Ethiopia may have already had with lands further west, such as Kordofan, Darfur, and the Lake Chad Region. If caravans were active between Borno and the Funj, and Muslim pilgrims from "Takrur" were possibly already traveling the "Sudan" road, perhaps Gondarine Ethiopia also looked to western lands for additional economic and political relations. This is pure speculation on our part, but we hope to learn more about Gondarine Ethiopia's relations with the Funj and other lands to the west in order to examine this larger African context. 

Black Nomads of the Sahara

Although only about a third of Jean Chapelle's ethnographic study of the Tubu peoples, Nomades noirs du Sahara: les Toubous, was particularly useful for our purposes, we highly recommend it as a synthesis of various colonial-era sources on the Teda-Daza peoples of the Sahara and Sahel regions. Despite Chapelle's personal experience on the ground in Chad, many chapters draw on earlier studies by colonial officers who collected local traditions which formed the basis for this books conclusions and historical outlook. It is undoubtedly a dated work and reflects, perhaps, some of the colonial obsession with the "mixed" racial origins of the Tubu. Nevertheless, it was a refreshing read for its acknowledgement of the Tubu origins of the Sayfawa dynasty and the role of constant migrations and shifting lifestyles (from nomads to sedentary agriculturalists) across the history of the region. We only wish more was said about clans of Tubu origins in Kanem and Borno and the ways in which Kanembu and Kanuri communities have continued or inherited Tubu practices. Nonetheless, if the ethnographic present can be used to fairly deduce how the Saharan ancestors of the rulers of Kanem lived several centuries ago, this book might give one an idea of how early Kanem could have looked with a "Zaghawa" ruling dynasty and sedentary farmers in the Kanem region paying tribute and engaging in reciprocal exchange. Like the Tubu chiefs and Derdes of more recent times, perhaps the early mais were associated with religious rituals on behalf of the clan, including rites attached to rain, harvests, and sadagas.

The Hausa Factor in West African History

As an overview of the complex origins of Hausa communities across most of West Africa, Mahdi Adamu's The Hausa Factor in West African History is worth reading. It covers the spread of Hausa traders, artisans, malams, and other assimilated non-Hausa from the 16th century until the early 20th century, though most of its sources seem to cover the 18th and 19th centuries. Adamu's study illustrates how Islam, mobility, and Hausa cultural and economic practices and institutions were able to facilitate the development of markets, local industries (like textiles and leather goods), exchange, and link much of West Africa through Hausa-identified merchants and communities. 

Based on mostly European primary sources and oral sources from informants of Hausa origin (or connections) in Nigeria, Ghana, Benin and various countries in the region, Adamu occasionally can trace the origin of some Hausa and Hausa-identified Borno, Nupe, and Wangara traders who became economically important in the Bight of Benin, Middle Belt of Nigeria, Gold Coast, Mali, and Senegal. It is certainly an impressive, centuries-long process of economic integration, mercantilism, and proof that the economy of precolonial West Africa cannot be simply described as a subsistence one. 

However, there are occasional errors and inaccuracies which mar the general narrative and we're still in the dark about the early penetration of Hausa traders in several regions discussed by the author. For example, Adamu erroneously refers to traveler Wargee as an Arab. There's even an incorrect labeling of the do Rego family as being of Yoruba origin rather than Kanike or Kanuri extraction. He also mistakenly assumes Labat actually visited Dahomey even though he was merely publishing the travel report of another Frenchman. In addition, we were alarmed by Adamu referencing the correspondence of Sir Joseph Banks casting doubt about the authenticity of some of the information provided by Lucas on West Africa. 

However, when we actually scoured said correspondence for references to West Africa, Tripoli and the Fezzan, we did not find anything so alarming that casts doubt on the information of Lucas and Ledyard on Borno or Hausaland. Moreover, we also have our own doubts about the accuracy or authenticity of some of the sources utilized by Adamu. For instance, Damberger, whose narrative was a hoax, is cited favorably for identifying "Haoussa" or "Hausa" as Yawuri, even though the vast commercial center described in some of the European sources does not necessarily need to have been a single place or entrepot. 

Despite our quibbles and problems with Adamu's text, we still recommend it for anyone interested in how the Hausa language and culture have become so widespread in Africa. For those interested in the economic history of the Central Sudan, it supplements Lovejoy's work on the salt and kolanut trade by focusing on the Hausa communities outside of Hausaland who played such a key role in the movement of these aforementioned commodities. For those of us who are interested in Borno and the Kanuri, there are occasional references to Bareberi or Beriberi Kanuri traders and malams in many of these Hausa enclaves outside the Central Sudan. Indeed, Adamu's conclusions suggest the "Kambarin Beriberi" or "Hausa" traders of Kanuri origin may have been established in Hausa trading centers in some areas long before the 19th century. 

The Glorious Victories of Amda Seyon, King of Ethiopia

Although obviously from a different time and era than the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu, Huntingford's translation of the royal chronicle of Amda Seyon's 1332 campaigns brought us back to Borno and the campaigns of Idris Alooma. Of course, the chroniclers of their respective kings relied on their own religious traditions and unique political and dynastic claims to legitimacy, but both created relatively detailed and panegyrical chronicles of specific military campaigns during the lengthy reigns of pivotal rulers in the Solomonic and Sayfawa dynasties. 

For instance, both Ahmad b. Furtu and the anonymous chronicler of Amda Seyon undeniably sought to justify the military campaigns of their patrons on religious grounds, with their respective kings reestablishing or restoring the true faith while engaging in large-scale military campaigns that transformed the larger region with population displacement and realignments through imperial expansion. Similarly, both chroniclers compare their patrons to their alleged illustrious forebears, Sayf and the House of Solomon with the expected references to the holy texts of their respective faiths. The major difference here, of course, would be the primary antagonism between Islam and Christianity in the case of Ethiopia while Christianity was a non-factor in Borno's campaigns during the the reign of Idris Alooma.

Despite these probably superficial parallels, we are fascinated by the idea of a comparative study of the Sayfawa and Solomonic dynasties as examples of long-lasting African political systems. Both drew on "world religions" of Christianity and Islam but of course owed much of their origins to an ancient, deeper past in their regions of the Lake Chad Basin and the Ethiopian highlands. Both also provide interesting examples of the vicissitudes of these dynasties during the 19th century and European imperialism as they transformed, declined, or, in the case of the Solomonic rulers, maintained their independence.

Takrur and the Coast?

One of the early West African states whose rulers converted to Islam at an early date was Takrur, located in the Middle Senegal Valley. Takrur became so well-known in Egypt and the Middle East that the name of their kingdom became a common appellation for the entirety of the "Western Sudan." Yet, despite Takrur being well-known to informed persons in Egypt, Syria, and North Africa from at least the 11th century onwards, surprisingly little is known of it. Prior to al-Bakri there does not appear to be any extant Arabic records that explicitly allude to the kingdom of Takrur. Yet archaeological evidence suggests the rise of polities along the Senegal River by the 500s, with ties to long-distance trade, iron metallurgy, riverine resources, and salt. Evidence of camel remains in the Senegal River Valley also suggest possibly ancient forms of trans-Saharan contact, or at least movement of peoples and goods from the southern Sahara to the Sahel and savanna. This period, perhaps corresponding with the early Jaa Ogo dynasty of Takrur, may have consolidated through iron metallurgy and this intra-regional trade. 

Part of the problem for Takrur may be Ghana overshadowing it, despite Takrur's conversion to Islam before Ghana. Ghana was mentioned first in external Arabic sources, and although Takrur was never subdued by Ghana, the latter kingdom may have been the more powerful with better connections to the sources of gold used in trans-Saharan contact. One also suspects that Takrur, located on the western end of the Sudanic region, may have suffered from its more peripheral location with regards to the movement of goods from West Africa to the Maghrib and Egypt. Takrur, and other parts of the Senegal River Valley, would also later fall under the domination of Mali, and may have been important for access to sea salt as an additional source besides Saharan mines. Unfortunately, the number of primary sources which could shed light on the nature of Takrur and its trading partners is restricted to the external Arabic sources which point to ties with the "Lamlam" (victims of Takrur slave raids), Awdaghust, Awlil, and traders from the east and north (Arabs and Berbers were also active in towns under Takrur, including the eponymous capital and Silla. 

However, surprisingly, little attention has been paid to Takrur's access to sea salt and coastal trade with North Africa. Due to the paucity of sources, one cannot ascertain to what extent this actually occurred, but Takrur was intimately linked to Awlil and, presumably, the island of Ayuna, a source of sea salt, ambergris, and turtle meat located somewhere on the mouth of the Senegal River or Mauritanian coast. Since Takrur was known for the export of gold and slaves, one would think some of these exports would have traveled west along the Senegal River to Awlil, where ships from the Maghrib were said to have visited. Indeed, Arabic sources allude to Awlil as the last point ships from the Maghrib traveled to, implying it was a well-known anchorage and presumably engaging in trade with the local Banu Gudala Berbers. For example, the Kital al-Istibsar of the 12th century makes this clear:

There is a salt mine also in the land of the Gudala at a place called Walili on the coast of the Ocean and from there it is carried by caravan to the neighboring countries. Near Walili in the sea is an island called Ayuna. At high tide it may be reached only by boats, but at low tie it may be reached on foot. Much ambergris is found there. The people there mainly live on the flesh of turtles, which are very abundant in that place and are so extremely large that a man may get into the shell (mahar) taken from a turtle's back and go fishing in the seas, as in a boat (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 142).

This same source mentions the island of Ayuna as "the farthest point reached by ships and the last anchorage in the Maghrib." And while it points to the salt from "Walili" being traded overland, earlier sources, mainly al-Idrisi, point to the use of river boats to transport salt: 

The Island of Awlil is in the sea near the coast. The famous salt deposit is there. No other salt deposit is known in the land of the Sudan. The salt is carried from there to all the towns of the Sudan. Boats come to this island, and the salt is loaded on them. The boats then go to the mouth of the Nil, which is one day's run from the island. They then proceed up the Nile to Sila, Takrur, Barisa, Ghana, and the other towns of Wanqara and Kugha as well as to all the towns of the Sudan" (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 106-107).

While secondary sources seem to disagree on when or if Takrur ever directly seized control of Awlil, al-Idrisi places the town of Awlil in the lands of the Maqzara of the Sudan. Ibn Sa'id also quoted al-Idrisi's statement, indicating the use of ships to carry salt from Awlil up the Senegal River. Of course, al-Idrisi's conception of every West Africa town lying along the "Nile" was incorrect, but he was probably correct in the use of ships from Awlil to carry salt directly to the "Land of the Blacks," which would have required it to pass through lands controlled by the kingdom of Takrur, which dominated Sila, Barisa, and, by the 13th century, Qalanbu (possibly the ancient kingdom of Galam), a well-known river port. One would assume the ancient town of Sanghana, consisting of two towns on both banks of the Senegal River, and said by al-Bakri to be closest to the Banu Gudala territory, fell under the rule of Takrur. 

One would think the rulers of Takrur would have endeavored to benefit from a coastal trade route to their west as well as the more well-known overland routes to Awdaghust and beyond. Al-Bakri and others mention Awlil as a source of salt for Awdaghust's trade with the lands to the south, and probably the source of Awdaghust's ambergris trade. Why not also trade gold, slaves, ivory, cotton, and other commodities along the Senegal River, dominated by Takrur, to the west to Awlil, where ships from the Mediterranean could transfer goods to the Maghrib and beyond? This would have allowed Takrur access to goods from the north without relying solely on Awdaghust or Ghana and its trading network to the east. Moreover, it may have increased the reputation of the kingdom as a source for gold from Bambuk and other lands without the costly trans-Saharan journey. 

Unfortunately, none of the Arabic sources are sufficiently clear to establish a regular coastal trade at Awlil that linked Takrur to the Mediterranean. Indeed, some of the sources suggest a possible pre-Islamic trade that connected Takrur to the mysterious Qamnuriya "Sudan" to the north, using ancient overland trade routes. Besides, other accounts of shipwrecks of mariners from the Mediterranean along the western coast of Africa seem to indicate that it was not very common for mariners to travel beyond southern Morocco. If, indeed, they regularly visited Awlil by the Senegal River, one would assume more sources could attest to this. Perhaps archaeological excavations in the region will shed light on this, as well as more research into the Banu Gudala. For instance, one of the tales of lost sailors mentions Banu Gudala, who did not seem too shocked by the presence of sailors on their coast. Moreover, a mention of "Tochoron" in a 14th century Iberian book on the known kingdoms of the world mentions travel to the West African coast from North Africa, to reach the "River of Gold" (the Senegal and Niger rivers, which were believed to be connected to the Nile). While the text describes a fictional journey around the known world, its author was clearly well-informed, and perhaps was not entirely fabricating details about West Africa, the Senegal River and trading ships. "Tochoron" or 'Takrur does appear in the text, but the narrative describes an overland route to get there across the Sahara. Nevertheless, Takrur should still have been a leading power along the Senegal River Valley, and probably closely linked to any trading activities at the mouth of the Senegal River or nearby coastal regions, which might explain why "Tochoror" appeared on European maps as early as 1339.

The Funj Sultanate and Nubia

Although originally published in the 1970s, O'Fahey and Spaulding's study of Darfur and the Funj Sultanate contains some interesting arguments about the nature of the state and Islam in the Sudan from the 16th century through 19th centuries. Part One, covering the Funj state, relies on much richer textual sources while the study of Darfur under the Keira dynasty in the second section relies, necessarily, on oral traditions. It is in the first part of the book where one finds some rather intriguing suggestions and ideas about changes in the "Sudanic state" wrought by further Islamization and commerce. 

Some of the changes noted by the authors for the Funj state, which took over lands once ruled by Christian Makuria and Alodia along the Nile (and parts of the Kordofan to the west), are particularly intriguing because they seem to follow similar patterns observed in other parts of the "Sudanic" belt of Africa, especially Borno. Here, I mean specifically, the role of Islam and Sufi brotherhoods, the weakening of central authority, and the creation of autonomous areas under the rule of spiritual leaders which further eroded centralized authority. The perception of the king as corrupt or powerless, I believe, and receiving criticism of Muslim holy men, was also occurring in other parts of the Sudanic region, especially by the the time of the jihadist movements in parts of the "Western Sudan" in the 18th century.

However, I am particularly interested in how the Funj state may have followed earlier Nubian political and social practices. While Spalding states the Funj were a southern Nubian people, I am still unsure what the scholarly consensus is about who the Funj actually were. It's possible their first king, Amara Dunqas in the early 16th century, was a Christian before the Funj kings converted to Islam. If true, then perhaps the Funj truly were a Nubian group or subject population of Christian Nubia. The description of the matrilineal descent system and rituals of kingship also bear an uncanny resemblance to earlier, perhaps deeply ancient, Nubian traditions of kingship. Even the double-horned cap worn by Funj kings and provincial rulers seem to resemble "Christian" Nubian two-horned caps. 

And if the Funj gradually came to power in most of Nubia after the political fragmentation of the region into a plethora of captaincies ruled by minor princes with associated "castles" and churches, one wonders if the breakdown of Meroitic authority was also a similar process (of course, minus the influence of Islam and Arab or Mamluk invasions) to that of the fall of Christian Nubia. One could see an analogy of sorts to the conflicts of the Nobadia and Blemmyes (Beja?) in Lower Nubia during Late Antiquity and the gradual dissolution of centralized authority over the vast Middle Nile. Similarly, perhaps, conflicts over trade routes to the east (Red Sea) and south also played a role, with "Beja" rulers asserting themselves in the Nile Valley. But Meroitic civilization lived on to a certain degree among the Nuba/Noba and Blemmyes along the Nile, who appear to have retained a knowledge of Meroitic literacy and royal symbolism.

Moving on, the Funj state may, despite already being somewhat decentralized by recognizing the autonomy of the northern area of its kingdom after the rebellion of Ajib of Qarri, have represented the last of the ancient structure of Nubian or Nubian-like kingship. It is interesting to see how peripheral Islamization was to the early Funj state, too, only becoming more significant by the 1600s and 1700s. According to Spalding, Islam led to the changes in the nature of kingship and provided an ideology for a rising class of indigenous Sudanese merchants, which further eroded the king's authority. Foreign and local merchants began to undermine the king's control of commerce and led to social conflict between peasants and merchants (the latter engaged in grain hoarding and extortion). As the king's authority dwindled and local rulers acted autonomously, the rising "bourgeoisie" turned to orthodox Islam and commerce. 

While Spaulding's theory of the decline of state-controlled commerce and rising social conflict with an indigenous merchant class in formation by the 18th century is provocative and interesting, it is not entirely clear how or why local merchants were drawn to Islam. If Islam became a "Protestant work ethic" of sorts to local traders who would resist the peasantry's lifestyle and the excesses of the nobility, why did such a dynamic not seem to weaken other states in the Sudanic belt? If the "Sudanic" state was partly based on royal control of long-distance trade, which certainly seems to be true in more than a few cases, why were other states able to persist while only securing trade routes and stability? What was the nature of trade and merchant classes prior to the Funj state? Were traders active in medieval Nubia mostly Muslim and/or state-sponsored? What about during Meroitic times or, even earlier, in the kingdom of Kush or Kerma? Was there ever any sort of "Christian" work ethic and proto-capitalist sentiment among Nubian traders and middleman during the pre-Funj "medieval" period? I have much to learn about Nubia. 

Bornu Sahara and Sudan

Palmer's Bornu Sahara and Sudan was fun at first but quickly turned into a depressing chore. Unlike Sudanese Memoirs, which mostly consists of primary sources, this volume pounds on the reader on the head with the various unsubstantiated theories of Palmer on the origins of Kanem-Borno and African civilizations. As one would suspect, everything is connected to ancient Middle Eastern, Berber, Nubian, and Abyssinian migration or influences. Palmer, per usual, relies on questionable linguistic theories to connect these various influences which eventually led to the formation of Kanem and neighboring kingdoms in the precolonial era. 

After reading half the book, we decided to skim the remainder for interesting sources, information or changes in Palmer's translations of some local materials. For example, some of the mahrams appear to be translated differently in this work than Sudanese Memoirs, and one gets the impression that some of the Kanuri songs and girgams quoted in Bornu Sahara and Sudan were not included in the previous work. However, for Palmer's version of the Diwan and some of the speculative theories on particular mais in the Sayfawa dynasty, one should still consult this work. 

Just keep in mind that it's not always clear where Palmer derived his information and some of the translations could be shoddy and misleading, especially when tied to his penchant for random linguistic connections. For instance, his theory connecting the name "Organa" for Kanem in medieval European maps is almost certainly incorrect, just as most of his work reflects the Hamitic Hypothesis and its hyperdiffusionist perspective.