Medieval Ethiopian Diplomacy

After reading about the Jesuits in Ethiopia, it made sense to go back a little further in time to understand relations between Solomonic Ethiopia and Latin Europe in the Middle Ages. Medieval Ethiopian Kingship, Craft, and Diplomacy with Latin Europe by Verena Krebs is a good place to start since it focuses on a period from c.1402 to the 1520s, a period before the calamitous invasions of Ahmad Gran. Arguing against the grain of past scholarship which has emphasized Ethiopian interest in military alliances or "superior" European technology, Krebs focuses on the various diplomatic missions from Ethiopia as examples of Solomonic kingship and prestige. No clear interest from the Ethiopian side in a military alliance with Rome or Aragon or Portugal emerges until the 1500s, in an era of millenarian prophecies, Ottoman expansion, and Adal incursions. 

Nor were Ethiopians necessarily interested in European "technology" per se. According to Krebs, Solomonic rulers were instead primarily interested in acquiring relics, ecclesiastical items such as chalices or vestments, and master craftsmen associated with construction. While one could argue that these craftsmen represented an aspect of European "technology" through their assumed superiority as builders, masons, carpenters, or smiths, Solomonic interest in their skills was associated with the ambitious royal churches, chapels, and monasteries constructed throughout the highlands. Solomonic dynasts saw the construction of stone churches decorated with luxurious imports from abroad as a way to strengthen their authority, prestige, and continue the legacy of the Biblical Solomon, their purported ancestor. 

Krebs is quite persuasive and reanalyzes some of the same textual sources used by other historians to demonstrate how Solomonic diplomacy with the Latin "West" was based on their own terms. Instead of seeing Christian Ethiopian as a passive recipient of Western technology or diplomatic initiatives, it was, beginning with Dawit and ending with Lebna Dengel, a largely Ethiopian initiative to acquire relics, religious paraphernalia and skilled artisans to boost their power. One is tempted to see an example of possible Solomonic adoption of architectonics of Western or foreign origin as an additional source of power through ecclesiastical power, something visible in the Jesuit-era churches, yet Krebs points to several examples of local churches that followed earlier Ethiopian precedents or influences. So Solomonic relations with Rome, Venice, Aragon, or Portugal should not be seen as one of European technological superiority motivating Ethiopian diplomacy but properly contextualized in the nature of the highland state. In fact, it was usually European perceptions of Ethiopia or Prester John's might and ability to divert the Nile that interested the papacy or European courts in establishing relations. Unfortunately for them, relations were not consistently maintained and later Solomonic rulers sent fewer envoys to Europe in the later period covered in this study. 

One wonders where and how Christian Nubia fit into this period of Ethiopian and Latin European relations. Mamluk Egypt was unavoidable as an land passed through by Ethiopians and Europeans in the period, but what about Nubia? The kingdom of Dotawo was still relevant and perhaps future scholarship can shed light on an interest in the Crusades from Nubia that was absent in the Solomonic state. Some of the medieval sources demonstrate knowledge of Ethiopian geography, languages, and the regional political climate. Nubia, on the other hand, appears to have been little known or a terra incognita, in spite of European contacts with Nubian kingdoms in the Middle Ages. 

State and Society in Three Central Sudanic Kingdoms

Anders J. Bjørkelo's important comparative study of Kanem-Borno, Wadai, and Bagirmi is a worthwhile read on state development, trade, warfare, and administration of 3 of the major kingdoms of the Central Sudan. Although mostly based on 19th century sources and early colonial reports and collections, especially Barth and Nachtigal (and al-Tunisi for Wadai and a little on Bagirmi), Bjørkelo proposes some interesting insights into the nature of the state in these connected kingdoms. Like other scholars, especially O'Fahey, whose influence can be seen in Bjørkelo's analysis of the rituals of seclusion in the three aforementioned kingdoms, he traces their development as "divine kingships" with core, tributary and raiding/plundering zones that were influenced by the technological and ecological constraints of Central Sudan. Due to the diversity of the populations and the presence of agriculturalists and pastoral groups who were unified through coronation rituals, tribute, redistribution, trade, security provided by the state, and a similar level of development in agricultural and technological capacity (and, perhaps, low population densities in the case of Bagirmi if not all three states), one can develop a model of the "Central Sudanic" state in which Kanem-Borno was perhaps the most complex in its administrative apparatus. One could likely extend some of the conclusions to Darfur, the previous Tunjur state, and perhaps other states along the Sudanic belt.

The question of cultural and political diffusion from Kanem-Borno to Bagirmi and Wadai is not analyzed here (except for one 16th century Bagirmi king), but the antiquity of Kanem and its premier place as the dominant state in the larger region for most of the last 1000 years suggests Kanem or its subsequent Borno phase was a major influence on the development of administrative titles, practices, and Islamic conversion in Bagirmi and Wadai. Kanem was also, if Bjørkelo is correct, able to dominate the region so long by preventing the emergence of strong satellite states that would have encroached upon Sayfawa control of trade routes or access to the tribute (necessary to supplement the revenues from local taxes for the lavish lifestyle of notables and the royal court) and wealth via slave raids and plunder on peripheral peoples with less political centralization. Of course, the development of Wadai in the 17th century and the definite establishment of Bagirmi in the 16th (perhaps due to the Bulala rulers in Kanem losing control of Bagirmi) eventually modified the political landscape. 

In the 19th century, Borno lost Kanem and Baghirmi (which paid a nominal tribute to Borno) to Wadai and it was already losing part of its western and northern spheres of influence due to the loss of Bilma's salt caravan to the Tuareg and the followers of Uthman dan Fodio. Nonetheless, it was in Borno that the state appeared to have relied more heavily on royal slave officials, who were more reliable than officials of the royal family or notable lineages. Thus, according to Bjørkelo, Borno enjoyed more political stability than Wadai and it was in a better place than Bagirmi, which lacked a nokena or council. One might consider Kanem-Borno the inner core of the Central Sudan while Wadai and Bagirmi were also central but further removed from the center until the 19th century. Islam and the creative interplay of local traditions of kingship ("divine") and the new faith must have added to the reputation, perception of piety and power of the Sayfawa mais who, in several cases, performed the pilgrimage to Mecca and added that layer of religious or spiritual power to the already sacral elements of kingship. In short, the mai could be the 'king of kings' and recognized as such by several other dynasties of the Sudan because of Kanem-Borno's core position in the Central Sudan and the propagation of its own style of rulership and cosmopolitan Islamic connections that introduced Mediterranean and Near Eastern goods into the region. 

Unfortunately, one wishes Bjørkelo had found more of a balance between external sources and local, indigenous ones. Ahmad b. Furtu and Palmer's translations of mahrams, plus some of the European sources based on interviews with local populations add some depth. However, this is a study that relies heavily on Barth, Nachtigal, Muhammad al-Tunisi and the colonial-era reports or observations. A more extensive use of local sources and oral history may have strengthened the author's arguments or forced a qualification of some of the tentative conclusions reached in the study. For instance, we would have attempted to more extensively cite correspondence of local rulers to North Africa or Constantinople or endeavored to cite Ali Eisami narrative and extensive glossary of Kanuri terms, many of which have a political or economic nature. Similarly, local Arabic and ajami manuscripts, perhaps less available to the author in the 1970s, could be used more easily today to understand the role of the ulama in each of the respective kingdoms. Bobboyi was able to do this quite well in the case of ulama-state relations in Borno through textual sources and oral history. Dewière used even more sources (beyond Seetzen, Lyon, Barth, Nachtigal, Denham) to find more local Borno voices or perspectives to contextualize Borno in Saharan, Sudanic, and Islamic zones. Of course, if the sources are still limited for Bagirmi and Wadai, one would have to rely on Lauture, al-Tunisi, Barth, Nachtigal, and the colonial studies. 

The Jesuits, or Envoys of a Human God

Several months ago, we were invited to participate in a reading group formed to devour several books on Ethiopian history, with an emphasis on the Jesuits. It took us quite some time to get to it, but we have been periodically reading whatever we can find on Ethiopian history, particularly the medieval and early modern eras of the Solomonic kingdom. Since there are so many studies and translated sources on the Jesuits in Ethiopia, we decided Envoys of a Human God: The Jesuit Mission to Christian Ethiopia, 1557-1632 to be a good introduction to a complex topic with such an ample documentary trail. Andreu Martínez d'Alòs-Moner's study contextualizes the Mission in the larger East of Jesuit missionary activity during the 16th and 17th centuries, an approach we appreciate due to our readings of Jesuit relations in the Americas and China. 

This is not to ignore the specificity and distinct place of Ethiopia in the Jesuit and Western Christian imagination. After all, Ethiopia's ruler has been associated with the Prester John and even the founder of the Society of Jesus conceived of Ethiopia's "restoration" into the Roman Catholic fold as one of the special projects of the order. And, of course, the Solomonic state's already Christian population was not the same as non-Christian Japanese or Chinese or Muslims and Hindus in India. But Jesuit perceptions of Ethiopian Christianity as wayward or aberrant because of the observance of the Sabbath, the widespread practice of circumcision, belief in the uniquely divine nature of Christ, excessive fasting and the negative influence of the Coptic Church of Alexandria made Ethiopians in need of a restitution of their original Roman tutelage. Several chapters explore these theological, political, and social differences between Ethiopian Christianity and the Catholicism of the Counter-Reformation and Jesuits. Some of these aforementioned differences in practice and interpretation led to problems for the missionaries that they could never resolve, particularly over their more pronounced use of icons and certain rites in public, which were perceived by Ethiopians as profaning the sacred mysteries. 

Unlike the previous historical works we have read which have touched upon the Jesuit interlude in Ethiopian history, Envoys of a Human God challenges previous scholarship's unproven assumptions. For example, the idea that the Jesuit missionaries were attractive to Susenyos because the order supported political absolutism is completely absent from the voluminous sources left behind by the Jesuits. Instead, Susenyos probably saw in the Jesuits and the Portuguese a cosmopolitan group whose support for rationalization of the royal court would have appealed to a ruler in a politically decentralized kingdom or empire with recent upheaval for much of the 16h and early 17th centuries. Of course, the impressive architectural and technological knowledge of Europe and India also appealed to Susenyos and their foreign textiles, exotic wares, and trade connections could not have hurt. Likewise, one cannot blame Mendes or Paez for the successes and failures of the overall Mission since their personalities and perceived policy differences were not significant enough to have caused the failure of the mission. Both Paez and Mendes pursued a policy of "Latinization" of Ethiopian Christianity through a top-down strategy of winning over Susenyos and key nobles. Both believed Ethiopian Christianity needed to be aligned with Catholic dogma and practice and were largely opposed to compromise. 

This lack of compromise and a few other practices of the Jesuits, unsurprisingly, sparked unrest, conflict, debate, and, eventually, outright rebellions that led to the fall of Susenyos and the restoration of the local Church. The Jesuit reliance on royal and local elite donors contributed to the precarious nature of the Mission, too. Perceived as attacking local traditions and beliefs, they further antagonized the population as recipients of land grants and donations which worried traditionalists fearful of losing land and influence. When one thinks about it in the larger picture, it is not surprising that the Jesuits failed so quickly after several decades because, as Envoys of a Human God argues, their moment of greatest success was in a period of socio-political transition with a sympathetic ruler whose patronage was necessary to maintain and expand. Once those conditions changed and the ruler was unable to fund or publicly support the Jesuits, they were exiled, persecuted, forced underground, or killed. Outside of a legacy in architecture, painting, and, perhaps, new theological discourse within Ethiopian Orthodoxy, the Jesuit legacy disappeared with the expulsion of the last Ethio-Portuguese or their complete assimilation by the late 17th century. As for what else happened to the converts to Catholicism is not entirely clear, probably due to a paucity of sources. We know several local Catholics faced persecution and execution but it would be fascinating to find out more about crypto-Catholic communities during the reign of Fasiladas and Yohannes. We have encountered the figure of 100,000 for local converts to Catholicism in other studies, which seems small, but the eventual suppression and disappearance of this population and those of mixed-race Ethio-Portuguese descent as a recognized group might suggest something about the nature of the state and nation-building in Gondarine Ethiopia. 

Last but certainly not least, one cannot understand the Ethiopia Mission without mentioning India, particularly Goa and Diu. Without the strong Portuguese base in Goa and relationships with banyan and Muslim traders passing between Diu and the Red Sea, the Portuguese would have struggled to send missionaries to the Ethiopian highlands. Furthermore, Indian craftsmen, masons, and building techniques (Indo-Portuguese and Mughal) seem to have clearly influenced Jesuit constructions in Ethiopia, an example of what the author calls architectonics that shaped Gondarine architecture long after the suppression of Catholicism in the 1630s and beyond. Undoubtedly, the Church infrastructure organized in Goa, and Indian artisans and masons were central to the project until the decline of Portuguese India and the Mission's greater reliance on Susenyos and local, elite backers. Indian textiles, artisans, architectural styles, and the cosmopolitan world of the Indian Ocean were a necessary background for the Jesuits to pass through Red Sea ports and enter Ethiopia. Despite never establishing a foothold in Massawa or the coast of today's Eritrea, which would have facilitated the Jesuits tremendously, Portuguese India served as an essential base for communication, supplies, educated missionary personnel, and skilled workmen 

The Ethiopian Royal Chronicles

Although Pankhurst's compilation of royal Ethiopian chronicles consists only of extracts and omits some of the emperors, it is a worthwhile read for an introduction to Ethiopian royal chronicles. Unfortunately, Pankhurst does not tell us too much about the authors and audience of these documents, but by compiling extracts from several of them (plus an inscription of Ezana), one gets a sense of historical writing from several centuries of Ethiopian history. These chronicles occasionally hint or mention interesting things, even if some undeniably altered, obscured, or bent the "truth" to flatter certain emperors or patrons. If one is looking for a great example, compare the Funj Chronicle of Sinnar with the Ethiopian royal chronicle that mention the military conflict between the two kingdoms! Nonetheless, Pankhurst's compilation is a nice primer of chronicles from an African civilization with occasionally interesting noodles of information or surprises. For instance, we here at the blog did not expect to come across so many references to imperial interests in foreign technology, innovation, and, perhaps, agricultural practices. It would be interesting to learn more about early Ethiopian interests in sugarcane, for example, or the history of naval, architectural, and military innovation in Ethiopia (and why they were not usually sustainable). 

The Era of the Princes

Mordechai Abir's history of the "Era of the Princes" in Ethiopia was not what we expected. We thought we were in for a lengthy analysis of the various puppet emperors and the effective rulers embodied in the ras who actually exercised authority in the name of the emperor while the various provincial nobles and warlords resisted the central authority. There is definitely some of that in Abir's short work, particularly the influence of the Oromo dynasty of regents who faced the challenges of the local lords, an expansive Egyptian state, a Tigre eager to use firearms to assert itself, and an autonomous Showa expanding to the south and southwest. Like his other work on Ethiopia and the Red Sea, Abir introduces the larger regional factors at play in the late 18th and 19th centuries, particularly the resurgence of Red Sea traffic, Muhammad Ali of Egypt's interests in Sudan and Ethiopia, the decline of the coastal Muslim states in the area surrounding the Ethiopian highlands, and British and French interests. 

The various states or kingdoms that developed in the south and southwest of Ethiopia, under Oromo rulers (and perhaps mixed Sidama and Oromo origins), were economically important as the source of the musk, ivory, gold, civet, and slaves exported from Ethiopia to the outside world. Control of the trade or routes in the transit of those goods, the principal Ethiopian exports, became increasingly important despite the frequent rebellions, wars, and conflicts of northern Ethiopia's contending nobles and factions. In addition, theological disputes also contributed to the rebellions, wars, and antagonisms involving the Church, the abuna appointed by Alexandria and Muslims or "pagan" Oromo perceived as threats to the Christian foundation of the empire. 

Then the rest of this short book shifts to detailing the rise of Teodros (Tewodros) and the ascent of the Showa kingdom based on its sound administration, integration of some of its Oromo subjects, tolerance for religious diversity, and protection of law and order, thereby establishing the kingdom as a major transit for trade. The Egyptian threat during the period examined, from  the 17770s to Tewodros, appears to have never been a serious threat to Ethiopia, but one can see how important the British were as a block to grander Egyptian ambitions in the Horn of Africa. A few local dynasties, particularly that of Showa, appear to have laid the foundations for modern Ethiopia through what Abir describes as an "archaic welfare state" that invested in infrastructure, provided pensions and staples to the poor, established law and order while favoring trade, and embodied religious toleration and the integration of non-Amhara. Surprisingly, neither the Tigre or Showa seem to have invested in guns manufacturing, coming to rely on limited imports. By now, there must be more detailed histories of this turbulent era in Ethiopian history. Nonetheless, this is a good start. 

The Solomonic Monarchy at Gonder, 1630-1755

We highly recommend anyone interested in "Sudanic" Africa or the history of the Sayfawa dynasty to take a look at  LaVerle Bennette Berry's dissertation on the Gondarine period in Ethiopian history. Although The Solomonic Monarchy at Gonder, 1630-1755: An Institutional Analysis of Kingship in the Christian Kingdom of Ethiopia is focused on a very specific period in the history of the Solomonic monarchs before the the Zemene Mesafint, Berry argues in favor of placing the Ethiopian kingdom in its African context and sees strong parallels with Borno's ruling dynasty. Of course, Berry's understanding of Borno political and economic history is through the lens of Cohen, particularly on Borno feudalism, but there are some interesting parallels between the two dynasties which might suggest some utility of contextualizing both as "Sudanic" states of a particular type. 

We would also add the Keira sultans of Darfur, the Istambulawa of Agadez, the Askiyas of Songhai, the Funj, probably Wadai, and maybe Bagirmi to our list as examples of other "Sudanic" states which, despite their religious differences (Islamic, Christian, or "pagan"), hint at deeper commonalities, influences, and particular "African" responses to universalistic religions, long-distance trade linked to the Mediterranean and Eurasia, warrior states, and centralizing authority. Naturally, one can find vast differences among the various polities and kingdoms that developed across the region, but some of their commonalities and perhaps similar relationships to the outside world can be illustrative of dynamic African polities. Nonetheless, the Sayfawa and Solomonic dynasties, both lasting several centuries, offer a better possible comparative approach despite the much richer corpus of sources for Ethiopia. 

In addition to their longevity, they were regional powers, used vertical rather than horizontal links, supported a universalist faith, claimed illustrious ancestry through their respective religions as a political "fact," were built on, at least somewhat, on war and raids, and relied on a system of "fiefs" with delegated authority for administering the provinces and countryside. To a certain extent, one can see periods of Bornoan decline when the mai was less active, something akin to the problem of Ethiopian emperors who did not campaign and thereby lost one of the major sources of their authority: providing booty, captives, and honor to soldiers who served them. But the parallels between the two dynasties and their respective declines may be due to divergent causes by the 18th century. 

Certainly the rise of al-Kanemi in the 19th century was due to external pressure on Borno from the west while the reduction of the Ethiopian emperor to figurehead by the time of Iyasu II was, according to Berry, a product of several decades of internecine strife among the nobility, clerics, and factional strife that saw the rise of the ras and assassinations or depositions. Unfortunately, we don't have enough sources on the Sayfawa dynasty to track all the coups, assassinations, and depositions to the same degree, yet Borno's eventual reliance on enslaved officials may have been a mitigating factor. Nor does one find evidence for the type of internecine theological disputes and factions in Borno that characterized Gondarine Ethiopia, unless one wants to try to argue that Sufism under Umar b. Idris represented a threat of sorts or later conflicts between the royal administration and non-aligned ulama was comparable. Thus, one should not overstress the commonalities or deny the obvious differences in environment, ethnicity, religion, and the vast corpus of chronicles that have survived in Ethiopia versus the smaller corpus from Borno. 

Katsina's Transformations

Although we were hoping for a fuller history of the important Hausa kingdom of Katsina, Yusufu Bala Usman's The Transformation of Katsina, 1400-1883: the Emergence and Overthrow of the Sarauta System and the Establishment of the Emirate is a worthwhile start. Perhaps due to Katsina lacking any surviving chronicle comparable to that of Kano, this study, based on the author's dissertation, is mostly an analysis of Katsina in the 18th and 19th centuries. The book begins with some of the local traditions and early history of Katsina, but most chapters actually seek to explain the establishment of the sarauta system and its replacement by the emirate of Katsina after the jihad. So, if one is searching for a detailed history of political institutions and economic, social, and demographic changes in the late 1700s and the emirate government within the Sokoto Caliphate, this book is for you. 

There is still much to be gained for the general reader with an interest in pre-jihad Katsina. Yusufu Bala Usman's critical stance with regards to the intellectually lazy interpretations of some historians was a fresh reminder for us to stop assuming categories, titles, or ethnic groups were static. Take political titles and offices, for example. The function of a title often varied or could be nominal and not necessarily carried out by the titleholder. Ethnicity was also never static, so one must be careful with terms like Habe, Fulani, Hausa, or attempts to identify the emirate of Katsina as "Fulani" without qualification. Indeed, throughout the 5 centuries of history covered by the text, numerous immigrant waves and communities existed in Katsina, often of Azbin, Mali, Borno, Fulani, or other origins. Thus, assuming static ethnic identities or lacking nuance is part of what Usman sees as a retrograde view of African history. 

For our purposes, however, the main benefit of reading this history of Katsina can be found in the description of Kasar Katsina political administration and structure in sarauta system of pre-jihad years. Hausa "traditional" religion and belief in iskoki, for instance, were explicitly linked to the origins of kingdom. According to Usman, the early kings of Katsina were connected to Inna or the Mother Earth spirit. Korau, the first king, is alleged to have killed Durbawa leader Sanau in the 1400s, while trade was increasing in the region and a new political order was necessary for the diverse residents. This tie to Inna and the iskoki explain the "pagan" influences on the rituals of accession for the sarki or kings of Katsina. But by the end of the 1400s, the ruler of Katsina, Ibrahim, was in correspondence with Egyptian scholar al-Suyuti and the rulers had adopted Islam. Over the course of the 1500s and 1600s, Islamic influences spread throughout the capital and various towns of the state. Unlike Borno, the ulama were not incorporated into this political system and maintained a certain distance from the palace. Thus, it is no surprise that Uthman dan Fodio's movement received some local support from those critical of the Katsina ruling dynasty. The complex juggling of Islam and the local religion which provided legitimacy to the dynasty is interesting and brings to mind our recent reading on the Keira sultans of Darfur and other Sudanic states. 

Darfur Sultanate

Although Darfur is not Kanem-Borno, it is a part of a broader array of societies and polities that developed in the Sudanic Belt. Moreover, the Keira sultans of Darfur seem to owe something to the ancient civilization of Kanem-Borno. Indeed, if O'Fahey's excellent The Darfur Sultanate: A History, is any reliable indicator, Darfur seems to have been an easternmost extension of the "Central Sudan" region. The ancient use of Maghrebi-styled Arabic script in some of the early extant documents plus the presence of Kanuri words (goni, mayram) and people (oral traditions of a branch of the Sayfawa dynasty in the region, plus Borno faqihs and traders active in Darfur) do suggest some degree of influence from Borno. 

While O'Fahey seems to reject the theory of a Sayfawa colony in Darfur in the 1400s or 1500s as an unproven theory of Arkell, Darfur appears to have been, like Bagirmi and Wadai, at least partly influenced by Kanem-Borno and likely received some of its earliest Islamic influences from the west. Early medieval references to what is likely today's Darfur, particularly the Tajuwiyyin (probably the Daju, who may have established the first known kingdom or polity) and the subsequent Tunjur state, Uri, and the Darfur Sultanate as it existed under the Keira from the 17th century to 1916 definitely enjoyed cultural and economic ties to Kanem-Borno. Later, particularly after the conquest of Kordofan (making the kingdom as large as Nigeria for decades), Darfur's relations with the Nilotic Sudan and Egypt were unsurprisingly strengthened, and placing Darfur as a bridge of sorts between the Eastern and Central Sudan. In fact, one of the sultans, Muhammad al-Husayn, was of Ethiopian origin through his mother and merchants from Egypt and the Nilotic Sudan appear to have played a major role in the development of Kobbei as a city and economic link between the Nile Valley and Darfur. Fulani Islamic scholars, Borno faqihs, Bagirmi slaves and mercenaries, and even a Mauritian Shinqiti could become influential in the court or towns and settlements like Manawashi. 

As for the history of the Keira and their kingdom, O'Fahey mainly draws on al-Tunisi, Nachtigal, a number of charters and court records, letters, oral traditions, and external European and Middle Eastern documents that shed light on the history of the region or its relations with the outside world. Some pleasant surprises include Arabic local sources from the Tunjur state that preceded the sultanate, which was already partly Islamic, as well as a rich body of land charters that O'Fahey exploits to reconstruct land tenure (mostly usufructuary and entirely dependent on the will of the sultan), rural social structure, and the role of centralizing mechanisms in state administration. The richest source, besides oral traditions, appear to be the writings of al-Tunisi and Nachtigal for their detailed portraits of the sultanate in the 19th century. By this time, the sultanate was no longer making new conquests, but did appear to have gradually pushed south through slave raiding (although always requiring passage through lands controlled by Baqqara nomads) and incorporated a plethora of ethnic groups: Fur, Masalit, Meidob, Birged, Zaghawa, Fartit, and others. 

According to O'Fahey, Islam became one of the tools of the centralizing process as the Darfur sultanate transformed from warbands of the 17th century to one in need of more effective centralization in the 18th century after new conquests essentially ceased. The recipients of land grants and new administrative posts, often including Islamic holymen from the east or west, brought skilled and loyal bureaucrats, generals, and merchants into serving the state apparatus while simultaneously weakening the traditional titleholders. Naturally, this process was uneven and pre-Islamic religious and political influences continued to shape the kingdom. Islam did gradually become more influential on the Keira royal court, and several kings sponsored the construction of mosques, established land grants to religious scholars (like the mahrams and mallamtis of Borno), and engaged in the larger Muslim world to establish Darfur as a legitimate member of the Dar al-Islam. 

Yet, like the sultans of Agadez, the Darfur sultans faced severe limits to how much authority they could effectively yield. The low population density of Darfur probably placed limits on how much taxation and exploitation fief holders could get away with on the peasantry. Nomadic populations to the north and south controlled the access points of Darfur's major trans-Saharan trade commodities (slaves, ivory, gum arabic). In order to reach the slave raiding areas to the south and southwest, the kingdom's bands had to pass through lands controlled by nomads only loosely under the control of the sultans. Then, trans-Saharan caravans going to Egypt from Kobbei had to pass through desert or Sahelian landscapes under the control of the Zaghawa or other nomadic populations. It seems, perhaps like the Sayfawa dynasty, the Keira sultans engaged in some marital alliances with subject populations to facilitate trade and political incorporation of non-Fur peoples, but the demographic and ecological barriers imposed limits on how much authority the Keira could yield. If one adds the factor of conflicts over succession to the throne and the failure to adapt in time to new military technology, it is no surprise that the Keira were defeated by al-Zubayr so easily. Needless to say, Rabih, who served under al-Zubayr, would later go on to conquer Borno with the military tactics and armaments al-Zubayr used so effectively against the cavalry of Darfur.

Perhaps for our purposes, the best way to think about Darfur is in terms of its "Sudanic" dimensions as a crossroads of the Sudanic belt. In many respects, it brings to mind Borno and the Funj with regards to the land grants, mounted warrior elite soldiers, reliance on the slave trade (though O'Fahey thinks most slaves taken in raids by the Darfur state were used locally), tension between Islam and pre-Islamic practice, and centralizing administrative tendencies restricted by various factors. Unlike the sultans in Agadez, the Keira sultans were not elected by nomads determined to prevent the sultan from becoming too powerful, but obstacles to their centralization could be found in other ways. Like the Sayfawa dynasty in Borno, the Keira had to find a way to balance the sometimes conflictual subsistence economies of their subject populations while also supporting markets, long-distance trade, security, and, to the extent possible, cementing their relations with the larger (Islamic) world, even France. Darfur appears to have done this through supporting African pilgrims en route to the Holy Land, as well as engaging in diplomatic relations with the Ottomans, Egypt, and other states. One sultan, Muhammad Tayrab, even went so far as to order an expensive Arabic dictionary produced by an Indian scholar. Other sultans received honorific titles from Constantinople. These Sudanic states resemble, to a certain extent, "feudal" societies of Europe and Asia with a "Sudanic" state structure of private and communal land tenure, partly literate bureaucracies, monarchs with elective councils, and a constant struggle for harmonizing countervailing forces. 

Oasis of Salt

Knut S. Vikør's The Oasis of Salt: The History of Kawar, a Saharan Centre of Salt Production is required reading for anyone interested in the history of Kawar and Kanem-Borno. While suffering from a number of typos, this book actually surpasses the incomplete history of Kawar written by Marguerite Le Coeur. Unlike her work, Vikør reaches more level-headed conclusions and theories while also challenging Lovejoy on the economic and political dimensions of Kawar and the salt trade (slavery was marginal to salt production). Of course, as its focus is on Kawar, Kanem and Borno only appear in references to the Kanuri population of the region or in periods when direct authority of Kanem-Borno in the region was attested by various sources. Thus, Kawar is the center of this history, showing how a periperhal central Saharan oasis (and nearby Fachi and Jado) could be significant in the Sudanic salt trade as well as trans-Saharan contact. Kawar as a center-periphery is a key theme here, shifting in its reception of varying cultural influences based on the power dynamics of the Central Sudan and Sahara.

Vikør begins the study with an overview of Kawar, the geography, the relevant populations and the method of salt production. This precedes the second half of the book's chronological analysis, but is very helpful for contextualizing Kawar, Fachi and Jado. Then, the rest of the history analyzes Kawar from the time of Herodotus and the ancient Garamantes to the French colonial conquest. Le Coeur's earlier published history covers the same era, but does not rely on questionable assumptions (Le Coeur believed the Tomagra and Kaye were "Berbers"). In fact, Oasis of Salt is a very careful reading of Kawar's history based on our limited sources. Thus, moving from Herodotus and references to the Garamantes in the south from the Roman era, Vikør endeavors to cautiously interpret the various medieval Arabic sources from the 9th century to the late 14th. Moreover, for those able to read Arabic, an appendix includes the original texts with Vikør's translations. Needless to say, his interpretation of some of these Arabic sources is nuanced enough to give a more accurate impression of Kawar from the 7th century onwards. 

While we may never the full historicity of Uqba b. Nafi's "conquest" of Kawar or what exactly the famous alun of Kawar actually was, it becomes clear that Kawar was probably known or at least heard of by the Garamantes and probably an entrepot for trans-Saharan trade by the 9th century. The references to Kanem and Zaghawa or Zaghawi captives certainly suggests the Ibadi trade network had penetrated Kawar and likely introduced Islam into the region. This early Ibadi influence and links to the Fezzan are the reasons Vikør sees early Kawar as falling more into a Maghrebi or North African sphere of influence (exemplified in the ancient Arabic place names and the gassars, which seem to owe more to Kanuri or Sudanic influences but use an Arabic term), later shifting to predominantly "Sudanic" with the assertion of Kanem's control or interests by the 12th century. With the rise of Kanem (even under mai Arku, hints of Kanem's influence in Kawar and ties to the Tomagra and Dirku suggest early links), Sudanic civilization exerted its influence to a greater extent in Kawar and even the Fezzan. Then, despite the decline of Kanem by the late 1300s, the Bornoan state under the Sayfawas reasserted their claims to Kawar. To what extent Arku, Dunama, Ali Gaji, Idris Alooma, or other mais of Kanem-Borno were ever able to exert strong authority over Kawar is unclear, but surviving Borno mahrams and the Diwan suggest familial, tax exemptions, marital, and military strategies.

However, unlike Lovejoy, Vikør does not seem to see Borno's interest in Kawar as being connected to the trade in salt in the Sudan. Instead, Borno was more interested in securing Kawar for trans-Saharan trade to Tripoli, via the Fezzan. Of course, it is hard to imagine Borno not trying to take advantage of Kawar's salt production, as the Koyam were said to have been involved in it and perhaps the Bornoan state added Kawar's salt exports to local natron production in Manga and near Lake Chad to supplement their trade with Hausaland and beyond. In other words, even if trans-Saharan trade and the Kawar salt caravans usually operated independently, it is difficult to imagine Borno not actively promoting Kawar's salt trade. This does not exclude the possibility of Tuareg caravans carrying salt from Kawar to Hausaland, which the Kano Chronicle may suggest was occurring by the mid-15th century. Indeed, the ensuing conflict between the Tuareg of Ayar and Borno in the late 17th century and 18th century, even if it was often small-scale raids in Kawar, does suggest Borno's interest in Kawar were important for security of trans-Saharan trade but perhaps the profitable salt trade, too. Indeed, Tuareg incursions on the borders of northern Borno plus Tuareg settlements of enslaved farmers in Damergu must have been seen as as combined threat to Kawar and Borno's direct borders. The Koyam must have been threatened too, by the rising importance of Tuareg, specifically Kel Owey salt caravans to Fachi and Kawar. 

Overall, this is mandatory reading for anyone interested in Kawar, Kanem-Borno, or the Central Sudan. While there are some arguments of the author we disagree with or find implausible or lacking adequate backing, Oasis of Salt is so far the best read on Kawar's history. Lovejoy's work is on the larger Central Sudan and should be read in conjunction, and Le Coeur's work, based on field experience and exposure to the Teda of Kawar and Tibetsi, should likewise be added to one's list. Taken together, the three provide a great overview and list of sources on Kawar's historic importance and role as a bridge between Kanem-Borno and the Mediterranean. We disagree with the author about the Kanuri of Kawar being the remnants of an original proto-Kanuri population that once lived further north, but he's likely right about the population always being, mostly, Sudanic. We would like a bit more details on the clan systems of the Teda and Kanuri before accepting his theory, though it does seem that early Kawar's population was closely related to the Kanembu and Kanuri. In addition, he's almost certainly correct about the Zaghawa/Banu Duku to Sayfawa "dynastic" change, too. It is far more likely that the Sayfawa dynasty and "Zaghawa" represented two local lineages rather than Hume being a Berber outsider. But based on our limited sources, Vikør does not agree with Lange that there definitely was a shift in dynasties from pre-Islamic Kanem to the Sayfawa. In light of his generally careful scholarship and useful references and translations, this is an enlightening history of a Saharan region whose entire existence is predicated on trade.