Voyage to Wadai

Traveler al-Tunisi's Voyage au Ouadây is the sequel of sorts to his earlier narrative on his travels through the Darfur Sultanate. Even more extended and featuring additional tangents and chapters on his traversing of the Sahara, al-Tunisi's account provides detailed informaton about a pivotal era in the history of the Sudanic region (and Tripoli). Traveling to Wadai during the reign of Sabun, who opened another route for trans-Saharan trade to Benghazi, al-Tunisi personally witnessed (or heard via his father and others) the exploits of Wadai's victory against Baghirmi. In addition, al-Tunisi witnessed the last days of the Awlad Muhammad sultanate in the Fezzan, some of the career of Yusuf Qaramanli in Tripoli, and stories of the decline of Borno via jihad of Zaky (Uthman dan Fodio). Thus, al-Tunisi's travels and anecdotes captured a significant moment in the history of the Sudanic region as major figures like Sabun, Yusuf Qaramanli, al-Kanemi, and Uthman dan Fodio reshaped the economic, social, and political landscape of much of Africa. Indeed, through his experience in Egypt and witnessing the reforms of Muhammad Ali, one can even include Egypt and the Sudan as part of this era of momentous change which significantly impacted the Sudanic areas.

A native of Borno who studied at al-Azhar in Cairo.

Undoubtedly, the major importance of this work is the overview of the kingdom of Wadai. Probably founded sometime in the early 1600s, al-Tunisi reported some of the traditions of its origins. Claiming Abbasid origins and other traditions, Wadai's first ruler united the region and established a tradition in which successors could only be born to mothers from 5 privileged tribes. Moreover, the sultans of Kordofan, Darfur, and Waday purportedly shared a common origin, which could be a reflection of the previous political history before the 17th century. While, sadly, the people of Wadai and Darfur, to al-Tunisi's knowledge, did not write or keep chronicles of their history, he was able to write a brief summary of the history of Wadai's sultans before Sabun. Indeed, it was clearly one in which conflicts with the Keira sultans of Darfur were frequent. Darfur's rulers intervened in the affairs of Waday while those of Wadai attempted to do the same in the other country. In fact, before al-Tunisi's arrival in Wadai, conflicts with Dar Tamah, the mountainous region subject to Darfur that stood between the kingdoms, were supposedly fueled by the Fur sultan's interest in weakening Darfur. However, neither kingdom could truly subjugate the other. Perhaps the vast distances and relatively equal military forces (despite Waday's troops being braver) lowered the chances of success. However, after Sabun's death under mysterious circumstances (was he killed by cow thieves or did he die from illness), one of his brothers later seized the throne with the aid of Darfur, pledging to pay tribute. That brother, however, was able to relatively easily take power due to internal divisions and a recent plague that struck the kingdom. Needless to say, he was able to easily enough throw off the yoke of tribute to Darfur. 

The major area of focus for al-Tunisi, of course, was the piety and brilliance of Sabun. Intriguingly, he personally was not well-treated by Sabun. Blaming it on a Moroccan sharif who abused his position and influence in Wadai's court, al-Tunisi was not the recipient of the totality of Sabun's largesse. Instead, it was the privileged position of al-Tunisi's father, who served as an advisor to the sultan, which seems to have accounted for the high praise of our author. His father, who received land grants, gifts, and helped in some of Sabun's campaigns (including the violent one which denuded Tamah of crops), must have told his son of some of the brilliance and piety of Sabun. According to our author, Sabun vanquished injustice, centralized administration (by shortening terms of service for administrators and using others to spy on them), welcomed ulama and Islamic holymen, and engaged in just campaigns against the incestuous, violent mbang Ahmad of Bagirmi. Furthermore, Sabun revealed himself as a reformer and visionary, planning to create coinage (a plan he was persuaded not to pursue by his court), open new trade routes to the Magreb to decrease his dependence on the Fazzan, and employ firearms with slaves especially trained in their use. While some of Sabun's reforms and visions did not materialize, he was able to, despite the significant loss of lives, open a new trans-Saharan trade route, expand Wadai's influence in Bagirmi and make Wadai one of the strongest kingdoms of the Bilad al-Sudan. The story of his rise was also an admirable one, relying on cunning and careful planning to outmaneuver his brothers. Sadly, after his death, Wadai witnessed a series of ineffective or corrupt rulers who disputed the throne until a brother of Sabun returned decades later. 

One of the most interesting chapters of al-Tunisi's voyage tells the tale of the conquest of Bagirmi, a major kingdom once tributary to Borno. Unlike other sources, claiming Sabun of Wadai only invaded Bagirmi upon the request of a (weakened?) Borno, al-Tunisi places all the blame on mbang Ahmad. Ahmad was so perverse he married his half-sister, ignoring the wishes of the ulama and Islamic law. Then he went so far as to lust after his daughter! Meanwhile, his fetcha was busy raiding Wadai territory despite several peaceful letters from Sabun. To provide even further justification, ulama in Bagirmi allegedly wrote to Wadai asking for intervention from the tyranny, corruption, and perversity of the mbang. Unsurprisingly, after the raids on Wadai territory continued unabated, and the alleged corruption of Bagirmi's ruler descended into further degeneracy, Sabun launched a campaign. Sabun's troops continued their advance onto Massenya while the mbang pretended his troops could handle the invasion and there was no immediate threat. By the end of the campaign, Bagirmi's mbang was killed in battle, Massenya was sacked (the treasury of the mbang supposedly had the equivalent of more than 200,000 francs) and pillaged (including the enslavement and rape of several inhabitants) and Sabun placed another member of the royal family on the throne. Unfortunately, a son of the previous mbang and his fetcha continued to resist Wadai, fleeing to Kotoko and then plotting against the king placed on the throne by Wadai. After more campaigns, Sabun agreed to allow this prince to become the new mbang of Bagirmi, with an agreement to pay a lowered annual tribute to Wadai. The effects of this campaign were such that the price of slaves decreased and a number of Bagirmi subjects ended up in Wadai. 

Photo from Lebuef's Ouara, Ville Perdue.

For significantly increasing the size of the kingdom, welcoming Islamic scholars, and opening new trade routes, and combating corruption and tyrannical officials in his kingdom, Sabun was compared to Muhammad Ali of Egypt. While the comparison was probably just in some regards, Sabun's reign was perhaps too brief to consolidate all of his achievements for subsequent rulers. Nonetheless, al-Tunis's description of the customs and cultures of Wadai and the the rest of the Sudan (Black Africa) are occasionally fascinating and problematic. As in his book on Darfur, one can occasionally detect ethnocentric biases. Indeed, the depiction of the sexual and marital practices of Wadaians may reflect a belief in the lasciviousness of black Africans. The pagan populations to the south of the Muslim Sudanic states, naturally, are beyond the pale in terms of civilization and culture. Pagans who do not possess any law, they were also decentralized and did not unite when it would have been feasible to do so against the Muslim raiders to their north. But al-Tunisi was not so biased as to not recognize great talent in the artisanry of some weapons and tools produced by the southerners, the Fertity, Kirdaouy, and others. In addition, his account of the operation of Darfur slaving expeditions, very distinct from those of Wadai in that they were operated by private individuals with a firman from the sultan, illustrates how easily tributary pagan populations to the south could be victims of raids as well as benefit from the slaving expeditions. Some of these Darfur expeditions penetrated deep into the heart of Africa, with one 18th century group allegedly reaching a vast river with people who looked like Indians (this is not explained in the text). This deeper penetration of the African interior from the North is interesting in light of the deeper penetrating of slave trading from the Indian Ocean to the east as well as the ongoing slave trade to the Atlantic World.

Besides his general commentary on the military, administrative, religious, and marital customs of Darfur and Wadai, al-Tunisi also applied a theory of Ibn Khaldun to explain the decline of Borno under the Sayfawa. According to him, the forces of Zaky (dan Fodio) were initially so successful against the Bornoans due to the latter's customs of luxury and comfort. Becoming too comfortable and attached to their luxuries, the Bornoans were no longer able to field the type of brave resistance necessary against their opponents. Consequently, they required the aid of the al-Kanemi, mistakenly represented as the alifa of Kanem, to defeat the Fulani and liberate Birni Gazargamo. Unfortunately, al-Tunisi never personally traveled to Borno. But his father and other informants did, one source even reporting that the soldiers of Borno were such cowards that they mistook a flock of ostriches from afar for the vast army of their foes. The frightened Borno soldiers then were ready to turn around and flee. While the reality of Borno in this phase was more complex and al-Tunisi did not have enough information, it is possible his testimony reflects a shift in the Sayfawa dynasty's basis of power. Instead of pure military force, which likely retained importance, the Sayfawa mais may have relied more on their perceived spiritual and religious authority. One wishes al-Tunisi had been able to gather more information on Borno in the early 19th century instead of reporting a few anecdotes and commenting on the treatment of his father who was robbed there due to the ongoing conflict with Bagirmi. 

Overall, al-Tunisi's two-part travelogue is a fascinating account of much of the Sudanic belt of Africa in the early 19th century. His numerous tangents are occasionally delightful treats to information about various topics. For instance, the pretensions of Tubu Rechad "sultans" who take advantage of their desert setting to repeatedly demand gifts from travelers. Or, for instance, finally returning to Tunis only to have his father steal his money while taking a bath! Then the ordeal with his uncle when he endeavored to collect the goods and inheritance of his father, who passed away during his final trip to Waday. Our traveler experienced a number of setbacks and wonders, including people stealing his water while crossing the Sahara and being saved by a devout, faithful slave. He even experienced the perils of internal discord and war in the Regency of Tripoli when the Awlad Sulayman rebelled against Yusuf Qaramanli. The poor traveler even had to bear the risk of traveling with goods of Yusuf Qaramanli overland. One only wishes al-Tunisi and Perron had collaborated on an account of his experiences after his travels to Black Africa, such as the wars over Greek independence and events in Egypt after his final return to Cairo. 

Mandingues of Haiti

Gerson Alexis's Lecture en Anthropologie Haitienne, a book we randomly encountered at a library today, includes the ethnologue's Notes on the Haitian Mandingues, in French and a slightly different English translation. Supposedly part of an unpublished manuscript, all we have, sadly, are the notes. While Alexis acknowledged the tentative nature of some of his conclusions of his study of the Mandingue cult in Morne Rouge, in Plaine du Nord, some of his conceptualizing of the community he observed struck as bizarre. Indeed, when one reads of this syncretic religious community, perhaps about 1000 people in Balan and a few nearby areas, one reaches the conclusion that this cult perhaps represents what Haitian Vodou was actually like in the 19th century. Indeed, after reading Duverneau Trouillot's ethnographic observations, from the late 19th century, one can see that "Vodou" in those days often revolved around African "nations" with particular rites, taboos, and customs. But over time, some of these distinctions were lost as the Africans and their Creole descendants became Haitian. The intriguing thing about the Mandingues of Morne Rouge, however, is that their distinctive practices and claim to a Mandingue ancestry persisted so late into the 20th century. 

To explain what we mean, consider Alexis's observation of congo, yanvalou and djuba rhythms in the Mandingue ceremonies. He seems to conclude that the Mandingue, perhaps due to their ancient Islamic influences and medieval empires, were culturally "advanced" and influenced the other "nations" of Africans in Saint Domingue/Haiti. Due to their allegedly advanced state, these Mandingues influenced other Africans in Saint Domingue. In fact, Alexis goes so far as to suggest words like mambo and houngan actually come from the Mandingue! However, yanvalou actually comes from Benin and the other rhythms noted by Alexis likely derive from other regions of West and Central Africa. Vodou terms such as houngan and many other aspects of the religion clearly owe more to other parts of West Africa, too. It is far more likely that the Mandingue cult observed by Alexis in 1967 had already been heavily influenced by the same forces that shaped the development of Haitian culture and Vodou. This would explain why Alexis observed rhythms from other traditions in the Mandingue ceremonies or "ordonnances." Indeed, this has to be the case since the "Mandingues" observed by Alexis are scarcely different from the other peasants in the area. In addition, while most of their members were descendants of past members claiming Mandingue lineage, new members could join the community through initiation. This process, in addition to the shared general culture of the region, might explain the appearance of rhythms from other traditions. 

But let us revisit the distinct features of the Mandingues. According to Alexis, the members of the community possessed a strong group consciousness, reinforced through ritual communion and a pact with degue, a type of rice flour with cane syrup. The members of the community claim African authenticity and distinguish themselves from the Canari dances and Vodou. They even claim to be members of the Society of King Mahomet! Unfortunately, the way Mahomet's name is transcribed by Alexis is somewhat ambiguous (MA-RO-MET) but it is probably the Prophet Muhammad of Islamic tradition. Besides referring to Muhammad, the Mandingue believe in a Supreme Being, sometimes associated with the Sun. Their cult is oriented to the adoration of this Creator being and their ancestors. In their prayers, they address Allah, Moussa (Missa?), and Mahomet. Moreover, their rituals take place at two times: dawn or early morning and in the evening. These meetings take place after a member dies, to commemorate the dead. These ceremonies, per Alexis, are called fran-gan-dan-man. 

A Mandingue Muslim wrote the above in 1773 in Leogane.

The leader of the Mandingue community is called mori. According to Alexis's Liberian informant, mori means "patriarch" among in Bambara and Malinke. However, mori is used by the Bambara to refer to Islamic diviners, something closer to the function of the mori among the Haitian Mandingue. By the time Alexis wrote his study, the Mandingue had only 1 mori, Barthelemy Exhalus, son of Exhalus Medard, the previous mori. It is probable that the position of mori was passed down from father to son, though Alexis does not provide evidence to prove it. This would fit, however, Vodou of the past in which the position of houngan was often passed down within the family. As for the Haitian mori, his main function is to communicate with the great Spirit through dreams and serve as a depository of the cult secrets. He understands the messages of the dead, who possess members of the community during ceremonies. Through prayer, song, dance, and sacrifices, to this Great Spirit and ancestors, members can be possessed. Perhaps as a remnant of their Islamic past, offerings excluded pigs (according to the English version). These spirits of ancestors, or zanges (anges) were never called lwa. Much like Haitian Vodou as we commonly know it, the mori used Catholic prayers in ceremonies. Their music, including a dance called Ronde du Mort, featured rhythms familiar to Alexis through other parts of Haitian culture. Unlike other Haitians, the Mandingue mori sang an incantation to Allah. Relying heavily on Balenghien, Alexis interpted one song as a deformation of the Islamic Shahada: Bi si mian y mi alahum- a ki baou Assa dan ila-a ilala. Elsewhere, the mori said Missa, Man-n Ma De, which is interpreted as Missa (Moses, or Musa) and Mamadu (Muhammad). 

To his credit, Alexis consulted specialists of Malian and West African languages and cultures. He relied heavily on a priest, Balenghien, who directed a center for the study of African languages at Taldye, Mali for confirmation of his theories. For instance, the burial practices of the Mandingue of Haiti included placing the corpse in a L-shaped hole, covering the body to prevent contact with the ground. According to Alexis's informant in Mali, the Bambara have similar customs. For identifying the Shahada in the incantations of Barthelemy Exhalus, he also relied on this Mali-based informant. In what may even be a possible reference to past Mandingue kings, Alexis saw a reference to a great Mandingo who introduced Islam when members of the Mandingue society claimed descent from the family of "Popotte Moussa." We, on the other hand, are inclined to think this "Popotte Moussa" may have been a prominent local "Mandingue" in the 19th century. 

Overall, the evidence suggests the persistence and survival of a strong Mandingue identity well into the 20th century in this part of Haiti. That they were influenced by Islam can be seen in the title mori, allusions to Muhammad, and that their religious ceremonies only commemorate the Creator (Allah?) and the souls of ancestors. Since they participated in the everyday rural culture of Morne Rouge, their religious ceremonies unsurprisingly acquired many traits of other contributions to Haitian culture. But Alexis's great contribution is in identifying the survival of one religious community in Haiti that preserved such a distinct, Islamic-influenced tradition. One must assume a sufficient number of Mandingue and West African Muslim captives were in the area so that the community did not die. Unlike, say, the Fulani and Borno Muslims described by Descourtilz, these Mandingue persisted well into the 1900s. Their willingness to accept new members through initiation and the custom of shared veneration of ancestors must have attracted Haitians from other traditions.

Yohannes and Gondar

Although the Gondarine era of the Solomonic Dynasty has long been an area of interest, we are only recently digging into more of the European translations of primary sources from that era. In this case, Guidi's French translation of the chronicle of Yohannes, who reigned from 1667 to 1682, serves as a brief introduction to royal chronicles from this era in Ethiopian history. The son of Fasiladas, a number of important events and developments occurred during the reign of Yohannes. Yohannes, for example, finally expelled the "Franks" or remnants of the Luso-Ethiopian population. Perhaps to maintain the image of the Emperor as just, pious, and peace-loving, the chronicler attributes the expulsion to agitation among the mons of Ethiopia. Thus, decades after the end of the Jesuit mission, the legacy of religious strife and conflict with Roman Catholicism lingered in Ethiopia's monastic circles. As for the remnants of the "Franks" in Ethiopia, they were marched toward Sennar, in today's Sudan, and their firearms were supposedly kept by the Ethiopians. Only those who converted to Ethiopian Christianity were allowed to stay. Franks who came to Ethiopia to promote Roman Catholicism were even executed, as happened to "Franks" who endeavored to pass as Egyptians. Yohannes also decreed residential segregation, forcing Muslims, Falasha and Turks to live in separate quarters or areas instead of cohabiting the same quarters as Christians. To what extent this was actually implemented across the kingdom is unclear. 

The son of Fasiladas also attempted to unify the Church through councils that promoted a single view on the nature of Christ and the Trinity. These theological disputes and debates led to the development of "heretics" in Lasta who opposed Yohannes. In addition, the "pagan" Agaw rebelled against the Solomonic authority while occasional rebellions, Oromo attacks, "Paysan" revolts, conspiracies from members of the royal family and monk rebels threatened royal authority. Interestingly, the chronicler of Yohannes mentions the strategic practice of deforestation to clear paths and subdue Agaw rebels. In addition, Yohannes used his authority and court-affiliated Church leaders to promote unity in religious doctrine and attempt to reunify the state. Indeed, it was quite amazing how Yohannes managed to find enough time to spend the rainy season in Gondar after so much time in most years of his reign campaigning across the empire. In fact, one of the rebels, Fares, even invited the ruler of Adal to help dethrone Yohannes. Certain iniquitous persons in Gondar even promoted discord between Yohannes and his future successor, Iyasu I. 

Since the chronicle is written from an official standpoint, and must, to a certain extent, only record what the emperor or his successor would have allowed to be written, one must look at other types of sources to assist with the reconstruction of Solomonic Ethiopia under Yohannes. For example, looking to Egyptian, Funj, Ottoman, Portuguese, and other sources certainly elucidates aspects of this era hidden or peripheral to the interests of royal chronicles. Since the chronicles also very much depict the ruler as a legitimate heir to Solomon and ruling in accordance with Christian principles, Yohannes emerges as a just, generous, wise, capable, God-fearing man with few or no faults. One must wonder if he really was not the driving force behind the incarceration of his siblings when he acceded to the throne. Likewise, one must wonder about the conflicts between him and his son, or for that matter, between him and some of the peoples against whom he campaigned throughout his time on the throne. Nonetheless, his ability to maintain some degree of stability after the foundations established by Fasiladas is a testament to his capability to reign effectively. Unfortunately for him, it seems that Ethiopian Christianity, perhaps due to the recent controversies and conflict with the Jesuits, was set on course for more internal conflicts which contributed to the weakening of royal authority. As long as the Gondar-period rulers were competent, some degree of balance could be maintained between the various warring segments of the Church, state, and provinces. When that was lost, all centrifugal tendencies were intensified. 

Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270

Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 by Sergew Hable Selassie has long been one of those studies of Ethiopian history on our reading list. Since we consider ourselves rather ignorant of Ethiopian history of the pre-Aksumite and Aksumite era, we considered this monograph by an Ethiopian scholar to be an important work to at least acquaint ourselves with some of the basic facts, controversies, and developments in Ethiopia before the Solomonic dynasty. To a certain extent, this book, though outdated by 2023, succeeds in those respects. An early chapter provides a detailed review of the historiography on Ethiopia's past, with useful commentary on the strengths and weaknesses of both Ethiopian and foreign historians. Much of our knowledge of Ethiopia's ancient past, at least when this book was published in the 1970s, was limited by the state of archaeological excavations. Nonetheless, the rather voluminous corpus of written sources, inscriptions, chronicles, hagiographies, travel narratives, and oral traditions has made it possible to construct a narrative of Ethiopia's past from ancient Egyptian trade with Punt to 1270.

Although Selassie stresses Aksumite civilization as an indigenous development and sees continuity through the history of Ethiopia, a number of issues arise in his use of the sources. First, his use of chronicles and hagiographies with several anachronisms, likely written centuries after the events they describe, suggest greater caution is necessary when attempting to make sense of their accuracy for events in the remote past. For instance, the author accepts the theory that Takla Haymanot and Iyasus Mo'a were both pivotal to the "Solomonic Restoration" in spite of the fact that the actual production of the literature on these two holy figures was written in contexts and dates that are filled with contradictions. In addition, the author accepts what more contemporary authors would describe as "political fictions" of Aksumite suzerainty of South Arabia, Nubia and other regions. While much of this may be due to the limited sources available for certain eras in Aksumite history, such as the later centuries of the Aksumite state and the paucity of internal textual sources for the Zagwe dynasty, this sometimes dangerous reliance on certain types of Ethiopian sources is occasionally problematic. It does not clarify, for instance, what transpired after Caleb's reign in Aksum. It also may not reflect accurately the real chronology of Aksumite kings or Zagwe rulers. In addition, the problematic legends about Gudit, some of which present her as a Jew, are clearly problematic, too, although the existence of a powerful queen who threatened Aksum is reported in the external Arabic sources. Too much uncertainty in the sources, anachronisms that refer to places such as Sennar centuries before their foundation, and the clearly legendary nature of some anecdotes or claims suggest a need for more cautious interpretation of these sources. 

To his credit, Selassie understands the limitations of some of the sources and reaches conclusions that are tentative. To the extent possible, he uses Coptic, Arabic, Greek, and other sources to corroborate some developments, especially the Aksumite influence in South Arabia under Caleb or the arrival of the Nine Saints in Ethiopia. Chronicles of the Alexandria patriarchs, Egyptian sources, Byzantine writers like Procopius, Persian histories and inscriptions from pre-Islamic South Arabia certainly do corroborate much of this information. Indeed, they support the author's contention that Abyssinia was not isolated and was actually a major player in the economic, religious and political affairs in the Red Sea region, Mediterranean, Middle East and northeast Africa. However, one wishes the author had not conflated all references to "Ethiopia" in the ancient sources as actual references to today's Ethiopia. Some of the references used by the author are obviously allusions to Nubia or Kush, such as the tale of the Ethiopian Eunuch or Taharqa of the Bible. Other bizarre occasions of the use of medieval Arabic sources include interpreting one Arabic source as referring, at least in part, to modern Ethiopia due to the geographer's use of "Abyssinia" (Habashat) to refer generally to "Black Africa" as known in the 9th century. Last, but certainly not least, the unnecessary full quotation of the forged letter from Prester John in the 12th century is excessive and serves no purpose. While "India" and "Ethiopia" were often conflated in the ancient and medieval eras, and stories of the Christian kingdom in the Ethiopian highlands would have reached parts of the Latin West during the 1100s, the letter from the Prester John situates the kingdom in the East. Sure, Ethiopia was later associated with the land of Prester John, but the letter cited extensively by Selassie reveals nothing about Ethiopia under the Zagwe kings.

Despite its limitations and the somewhat problematic use of the sources, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 does fill in several gaps in the historical reconstruction of the Ethiopian past. The Aksumite civilization was undoubtedly a major civilization with an impact stretching across the Red Sea. In truth, Aksum was of major importance when it dominated the southern Red Sea, as it could play a dominant role in the trade of goods from India to the Mediterranean. Later Aksumite and Zagwe relations with Nubia and Egypt also suggest the importance of relations between Nubia and Ethiopia by this time. The overland trade and pilgrimage routes, the migration of Copts  to Ethiopia, the close relationship with the See of Alexandria, and Nubian-Ethiopian relations and contacts must have been of major importance for Ethiopia. Unfortunately, we only find glimpses of it in the sources. That a Nubian king helped convince the Patriarch to appoint a new metropolitan for Ethiopia and both regions experienced moments of peace and conflict with the Beja and the Muslim powers neighboring them are significant for inter-religious conflict, dialogue, trade, and the spread of new ideas. To what extent the civilizations influenced each other and their relations with other parts of Africa is question future scholars may one day elucidate. One would hope that the history of the later Aksumite state and the Zagwe dynasty could someday contribute to the study of medieval Nubia and vice versa. 

Royal Chronicles of Zara Yaqob and Baeda Maryam

After reading Derat's Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme, we were curious to read two of the major sources of her study. Indeed, the royal chronicles on the reigns of Zara Yaqob and his son, Baeda Maryam, are constant references for Derat. Derat uses them to help establish a timeline for the relationship between the Solomonic rulers and monastic networks in Amhara and Shoa. Unfortunately for us, since we cannot read Ge'ez, we must rely on Perruchon's dated 1893 French translation.  Perruchon did include a helpful introductory essay that helps contextualize the manuscript and ths second half of the 15th century in Ethiopian history. However, one cannot help but wonder why modern scholars have not revisited these royal chronicles and provided updated translation based on current research findings, new insights into translation and the study of Ge'ez and Amharic, or to translate the chronicles into new languages. 

Zara Yaqob's coronation

That said, these chronicles are, despite some repetition, profoundly useful documents for reconstructing, to a certain extent, what was actually happening in Ethiopia. For instance, Zara Yaqob, whose chronicler appears to have written during the reign of Lebna Dengel, appears to have been a man of a profoundly religious bent and perhaps more authoritarian than was the average. It is fascinating to read of this one man's attempt to centralize the royal administration of the empire entirely into his own hands, relying even on his daughters to fill administrative posts and avoid dealing with the traditional administrative elites. In addition, imposing the observance of the Saturday Sabbath, the cult of Mary, and building churches across the state certainly suggest Zara Yaqob was endeavoring to centralize the state and build a more unified society. Indeed, how else could one explain his willingness to stand up to the Stephanites, punish his own children for alleged paganism, and his own authorship of religious or spiritual texts?

His son, Baeda Maryam, was also an important ruler despite only reigning for 10 years. Baeda Maryam is interesting for reversing some of his own father's policies. Unlike his father, who appears to have been more interested in concentrating all power and authority into the monarchy, he actually restored the previous administrative system of the provinces. This presumably won him followers and supporters who were alienated or removed from office by Zara Yaqob. Furthermore, Baeda Maryam continued building churches, strengthened relations with Dabra Libanos, and campaigned against "pagans" and Adal. Thus, he seems to have continued or tried to continue some of his father's policies while reverting to the pre-Zara Yaqob order of earlier Solomonic dynasty. In that regard, it is interesting that Almeida's brief account of Zara Yaqob refers to Ethiopian traditions of the day recalling him as a tyrant. Zara Yaqob's "tyrannical" rule was defended based on his religious zeal and passion for justice, yet later Solomonic rulers appear to have followed in Baeda Maryam's footsteps. 

Revisiting the Funj Chronicle

Revisiting the Funj Chronicle as translated by P.M. Holt and incorporating later materials and recensions, one sees the main benefit of Holt's work as being of greater utility for post-Funj Sultanate history. Most of the detail in the actual chronicle an be found in the late 18th and 19th centuries, but Holt incorporated materials that extend into the Turco-Egyptian period. For our purposes, mainly interested in the history of the Funj Sultanate and earlier Nubian history, this is not the most helpful. However, after re-reading most of the text, one finds that it does correct some of the errors of MacMichael's translation while offering detailed footnotes and introductory material to contextualize the references. The later sections of the Chronicle are still a mess and hard to follow (too many conflicts within the Hamaj Regency or between the Hamaj Regents and the old Funj royal family, not to mention other wars, conspiracies and shaykhs) but this is definitely the best English translation.

It is interesting to think that the Funj Sultanate was essentially experiencing what would later happen to Borno by the 1760s. The loss of effective political authority of the Funj kings to the Hamaj Regents, from the family of Shaykh Muhammad Abu Likaylik, occurred by 1760-61. Borno experienced something similar in the 1800s with the rise of the al-Kanemi dynasty. An period of coexistence in Borno persisted until the 1840s, just as the Hamaj Regents kept the old royal dynasty around until the final collapse of the state in the 1820s Egyptian invasion. Although Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi's rise to effective power was explicitly related to his charisma, military leadership and status as a respected mallam, the Hamaj Regents did not seize power in the context of foreign invasions and threats that Borno endured from the "Fulani jihad." Nevertheless, according to our Funj Chronicle, the Funj rulers were abusive, corrupt, exploitative, and immoral. Similar accusations against the Sayfawa from pro-jihad writings may have been reappropriated by al-Kanemi's followers to justify their seizure of direct power. Interestingly, however, the Hamaj Regents never went as far as destroying the figurehead traditional kings yet Borno did so under al-Kanemi's son.

In addition to the Funj Sultanate experiencing the rise of delegated authority through the Hamaj Regency, the Egyptian invasion finds a parallel of sorts with Rabih's 1893 conquest of Borno. The rise of Rabih was, in part, an aftershock of Turco-Egyptian invasion of Sudan and the spread of new military technology and tactics in Sudanic Africa. These very same developments eventually led to the loss of independence of Borno near the end of the 19th century. Thus, events that ushered in the final dissolution of the Funj state also played a role in the fall of Borno. And people in Borno certainly were aware of the late Funj state, as figures like Heinrich Barth and other Europeans commented on the presence of Sinnar natives in the region. Surely they must have been aware of the political conflict with Sinnar and the danger of Turco-Egyptian invasion. Indeed, they had to worry about it from the direction of Tripoli. 

Last but certainly not least, the Funj Chronicle partly assists with the reconstruction of the Sinnar Sultanate's Sudanic context. Numerous references to Kordofan and occasional allusions to Taqali, Darfur, and Ethiopia establish that Sinnar was actively engaged in trade, diplomacy and military conflict with its neighbors. The 1744 battle with Iyasu II of Ethiopia, for instance, was won with the aid of Khamis of Darfur. Darfur shaykhs are claimed to have supported Badi Abu Shulukh against the Funj. While some of the prominent Islamic scholars and saints in the Funj state came from the Middle East, sources like the Tabaqat hint at the presence of Islamic scholars from the Sinnar state venturing to Wadai and Darfur. This Sudanic and African context for the Sultanate is most interesting, even though the necessary sources to reconstruct it are limited in the Funj Chronicle. 

The Domain of the Solomonic Kings

Zara Yacob

Derat's  Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme is a fascinating study of Solomonic Ethiopia. Derat makes an interesting case for the centrality of Amhara and Sawa as "domains" of the Solomonic rulers in the period 1270-1527. If her interpretation of the royal chronicles, hagiographical literature, monastic chronicles, and other sources (especially Arab Faqih, Francisco Alvares, and other exogenous writings) is correct, then the tradition of Takla Haymanot playing a key role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty under Yekuno Amlak is an invented one that did not reflect what actually happened in 1270. Instead, she proposes that Dabra Asbo/Libanos (the monastery started by Takla Haymanot in the region of Sawa) invented the tradition of their founder having a central role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty to increase their prestige. Instead, Dabra Hayq, a monastery started in the 1200s by Iyasus Mo'a, appears to have been more central in the early rise of Yekuno Amlak against the Zagwe dynasty. 

She also suggests that these monastic networks were vital for the expansion and extension of the Solomonic dynasty in the two provinces of Amhara and Sawa, mountainous provinces that are defensible and, in the case of the latter, agriculturally rich. So, the Solomonic rulers, especially Zara Ya'eqob and his successors in the 1400s, began to establish and build more monasteries and churches in the provinces (and nearby ones that were recently conquered from Muslims or pagans) and in the process, force prestigious (and formerly autonomous monasteries, like Dabra Asbo) to supply clerics and monks to the religious foundations. In order to grease the wheels, kings like Zara Ya'eqob gave more land as gult or rest to these monasteries, appointed abbots (or tried to do so), used royal monasteries and churches as centers for councils that affected religious policy, and even used others as tombs for kings and pilgrimage centers. She argues that Amhara, and especially Sawa (and later Gojjam) became solidly part of the Solomonic kingdom through these religious networks in which the kings increasingly dominated religious policy and sought to use the "monastic holy man" as a pillar of the kingdom. Unfortunately, Derat's book is somewhat repetitive and her evidence relies on deductions that hope to make sense of fragmentary or contradictory hagiographies and traditions.

But she makes a persuasive case that the image of the monastic holy man changed. Monasteries like Dabra Asbo/Libanos, which once prized the martyr and depicted the Solomonic rulers as corrupt or heretics for having multiple wives, abusing their power, or seeking to change Church doctrine, later shifted to a new image of holiness in which the monastic leadership collaborated with the king to protect Christian society. As one can imagine, this process was part of the strengthening of Solomonic power in Amhara, Sawa and other provinces as the monastic and church network ultimately built or expanded bases of power for the Solomonic rulers. Even in this era of ambulant courts, Solomonic rulers made frequent visits to the religious foundations they sponsored, and those containing tombs for past rulers became centers of pilgrimage and commemoration of the Solomonic rulers. I guess it would have helped to see how this process differed in northern Ethiopia, like in Tigre, where the origins of Ethiopian monasticism could be found. Perhaps a hint can be seen in the way that Yekuno Amlak erected a church in Lasta, the center of the Zagwe dynasty, possibly inserting himself into the tradition of religious pilgrimage and sacred geography espoused by the Zagwe dynasty. Nevertheless, the most interesting figure to emerge out of this history is Zara Ya'eqob, the fascinating emperor who heavily promoted the cult of Mary, reduced the independence of Dabra Asbo, imposed the observation of the Saturday Sabbath, and convened councils on Church doctrine which were destined to support his own views. The guy also wrote a number of homilies and religious treaties and even had two of his wives killed for plotting against him.

I would still like to learn more about the actual process of Christianization of Sawa and other provinces, which is hinted at here or there. We also have some enigmatic references to the Falasha and other non-Christians but it would have been important to see how the Solomonic dynasty asserted itself and its legitimacy in other parts of the empire. Derat suggests some continuity from the Aksumite and Zagwe dynasties in terms of building churches as royal tombs but perhaps opening up to consider Christian rulership in Nubia and the Byzantine Empire would have been fruitful. After all, Ethiopians were still making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, had contacts with the Coptic Church of Egypt (whose Patriarch also had Nubia in its jurisdiction) and may have sought to establish an Ethiopian "caesaropapism" that may have had parallels in medieval Nubia. Comparisons with Sudanic Africa, as suggested by Donald Crummey, may have been of use, too. After all, one can see some parallels with Islamic kingdoms in the Sudanic belt, despite the obvious differences between Islam and Christianity. The parallels, for instance, with the Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno may offer clues to the allegedly sacred royalty theme. Or, for instance, the support for religious foundations and Islamic holymen found in the Borno mahrams could potentially offer a similar case in which the Sayfawa dynasts used their patronage of Islamic holymen to buttress their authority in disparate regions of their empire. 

Aksum and Nubia

George Hatke's Aksum and Nubia: Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient Northeast Africa is a short but rather persuasive study of Aksum's relations with Kush (Nubia) during the early centuries of our era. Based primarily on Aksumite sources such as inscriptions, relevant archaeological material, and occasionally Greco-Roman, Coptic, Syriac, and other Near Eastern textual sources, Hatke argues persuasively that Aksum and Kush, despite their proximity, did not interact in significant ways. Instead of being seen as commercial rivals or states which exerted significant influences on each other, the two appear to have only engaged in small-scale trade. Aksum was mainly oriented to the Red Sea and Indian Ocean for its commercial contacts with the broader world. Kush, or the Meroitic state, on the other hand, focused on the Nile and contacts with Egypt for its long-distance trade. Since the two northeast African polities possessed different commercial axes and thus did not have any reason to be commercial rivals, Aksum and Meroe engaged in small-scale trade without much interaction beyond this. Instead of any major cultural or economic influences on each other, Aksum's interests in the modern-day Sudan were more focused on the Beja/Blemmyes of the Eastern Desert. 

Indeed, records of Aksumite intervention or spheres of influence among the Beja to the borders of Roman Egypt in the 3rd century testify to the importance of security in the Eastern Desert area and Aksumite interests in the Red Sea coasts of Africa and Arabia. Aksum appears to have also been more invested in South Arabia, the Ethiopian Highlands, and parts of the Ethiopian-Sudan borderlands for economic and political expansion, with Nubia only being invaded during the reign of Ousanas and Ezana in the 4th century. In fact, according to Hatke, relying on the inscriptions of Ezanas and linguistic clues about Ge'ez, Greek, and South Arabian languages, has dated Ezana's famous Nubia campaign to March 360. His father appears to have also attacked Nubia, leaving evidence at Meroe itself. The son, however, was only in Nubia to launch a punitive campaign against the Noba, who had caused trouble on Aksum's frontier with groups such as the Barya. Meroe itself is not even mentioned in the inscriptions of Ezana's campaign, although some Kushite towns and people were undoubtedly captured or killed in the Aksumite raid. This political situation in Nubia possibly reflects the political fragmentation of Kush by 360, with Nubian-speaking Noba and Kushites perhaps acting independently of whatever authority remained at Meroe. Instead of Ezana wielding the final blow to Kush as an independent state, whatever authority was still claimed by the Kushite rulers may have been limited by the political fragmentation of Nubia. Further evidence from the toponyms in the inscriptions that Ezana's campaign did not affect Meroe but likely targeted towns to its north also suggest the ancient capital's demise should not be attributed to Aksum. 

Despite Aksumite claims to Kush as one of its vassal territories, the available evidence suggests this was often political fiction. Indeed, according to Hatke, it is very likely that Ezana's campaign in Nubia led to no long-last political suzerainty of the Noba. Furthermore, Aksumite sources from the 6th century king, Kaleb, also claimed Kush as part of Aksum's dominion, even though the Kushite state had ended by the late 4th century. Indeed, even in earlier moments in the 4th century, when Aksumite raids and campaigns reached Nubia, it is possible that the "tribute" sent by Kush to Aksum was actually more along the lines of gift diplomacy. Even the 6th contacts between Aksum and Nubia, suggested by Longinus meeting Aksumites in Alodia and the proposal by Emperor Justin to provide Nubian and Blemmye mercenaries for Aksum's use in Himyar, do not suggest large-scale trade, cultural influence or contacts. Nubia and Ethiopia, despite their proximity and some common interest in their frontier, and both impacted by the Eastern Desert nomads and the Beja, appear to have diverged from the period of Aksum's rise to the end of the kingdom. While the question of Nubian-Ethiopian contacts in the Middle Ages offers more avenues for contact, archaeologists have a lot of work to do in the borderlands.

The influence of Islam on a Sudanese Religion

Joseph Greenberg's short The Influence of Islam on a Sudanese Religion is an interesting account of the "pagan" religion of Hausa in the Kano area. Although dated and perhaps incorrect about the particulars of early Hausa history and Islamic conversion (influences from Kanem-Borno appear to be important, not just Islamic influences from Mali or the Fulani), Greenberg traces the relationship between Islamic/Mohammedan religion and the local, "pagan" bori and iskoki worship of the Maguzawa Hausa. Through centuries of living alongside Muslims or being in interaction with Muslims (initially said to be West African Muslims influenced by Maghrebi Islamic practices), the children of bori have absorbed elements of Islam and even created a new spirit based on their knowledge of the faith. Nonetheless, two religious traditions are distinct and reflect the ways in which West African religions have coexisted and adapted elements from Islam into their own local settings. 

In this regard, Hausa "traditional" religion brings to mind traditions like Haitian Vodou, where interaction with a monotheistic religion has led to some acculturative results while not diminishing the importance of the spirits. Even Hausa Muslims, like non-Vodouisant Haitians, often believe in the power of the spirits. As devotees of their respective Abrahamic faiths, however, they see "serving the spirits" as unlawful or wrong. But continued belief in the efficacy of these spirits for healing and other purposes must play a role in the survival of Vodou and Maguzawa religion. Furthermore, like Haitians, the Maguzawa believe Allah is a distant, remote Creator and focus on sacrifices to spirits for help. Like the Catholic saints sometimes identified with spirits, the Hausa associate jinn, including those of Islamic origins, with the iskoki and have adopted a dichotomy of "black" and "white" spirits based on the urban vs. rural, Muslim vs. pagan factors in their history. Last but certainly not least, the domestic, rural practices of the cult are rooted in patrilineal sibs among the Hausa in which the male head of the extended family is often in charge of the rites. Spirit possession rituals, tied with specific drum rhythms and instruments, are also important in the bori possession cult (linked to healing), like that of Haitian Vodou. 

Even more intriguing is to see the similarities of Hausa traditional religion with other parts of West Africa. The belief in a serpent-rainbow deity, Gajimari, for instance, and the known historical and cultural contact between the Hausa and other peoples like the Yoruba, may hint at ancient influences. The past importance of the Kutumbawa Kano kings in pre-Islamic rituals, including sacrifices that allegedly included humans, also brings to mind some other West African kingdoms. Even the Hausa word used for a "pagan" medicine man who consults the spirits to cure patients, sounds a little like the bocor or bokono of the Yoruba and Benin areas. While some of the iskoki included in Greenberg's table may differ from Hausa descriptions of the spirits outside of the Kano region, it seems likely that the Hausa iskoki spirits are generally similar and indicate a belief in spirits as the cause and cure for various ailments. Moreover, the Hausa seem to believe the iskoki reside in a city to the east, Jangare, with a political administration similar to the Hausa kingdoms. Hausa "paganism" is undoubtedly related to those of other West African peoples and, perhaps, one of the contributing traditions to Haitian Vodou. 

Song of Bagauda

After finally reading M. Hiskett's translation and study of The Song of Bagauda, one cannot help but feel disappointed. We thought it was a major Hausa source derived from oral traditions that was more useful for reconstructing the history of Kano. Instead, much of it is actually about Islamic orthodoxy and resisting "pagan" or non-Islamic practices. The main part of the text of interest to us, a list of kings of Kano which differs in significant ways (especially with regard to uncertain chronology and other variations) from that of the Kano Chronicle, is unfortunately too brief to be of use. Some descriptors of various kings of Kano may be of use, as is the claim that Umaru was the first Muslim king of Kano. As suggested by Hiskett, it does appear that the Song was updated after the death of each ruler and it is less interested than the Kano Chronicle in the "pagan" pre-Bagauda past of the city. That much of the song is concerned with proper Islamic belief and practice and calls for Muslims to avoid sorcery, divination, bori cult practices, and for the proper treatment of the dead and orphans suggests the authorship of the song reflects the concerns of Hausa Muslims. Indeed, one of the sources for Hiskett's version of the text is from a woman who learned the song from a malam. 

Sword of Truth: The Life and Times of the Shehu Usuman dan Fodio

Mervyn Hiskett's Sword of Truth is a short biography of Uthman dan Fodio, the reformer and leader whose movement revolutionized Hausaland and much of today's northern Nigeria in the 19th century. Although the full history of the Sokoto Caliphate is not the main topic of Hiskett's monograph, a biography of its foundational figure is important for establishing the theological, intellectual, cultural, and political contexts of its origins. Beginning with an overview of Uthman dan Fodio's origins in a scholarly Fulani Muslim community and the larger world it was a part of, the reader is taken on a journey into the late 18th century landscape of Hausaland. Although one wonders if more recent scholarship has added more nuance to the question of "mixed Islam" and the relationship of Islamic scholars with the Habe ruling courts of the Hausa states, Hiskett's biography suggests a number of causes for the outbreak of the jihad. For instance, tensions between Fulani nomads and Hausa chiefs, the global currents of Islamic intellectual thought (though, according to Hiskett, the Shehu was not a fundamentalist or a devotee of Shaik Jibril b.Umar's iconoclasm), Hausa political corruption and abuse, arbitrary enslavement, and the Shehu's belief in his own divinely sanctioned position as a renewer of the faith. Indeed, to prepare the way for the Mahdi, the Shehu felt compelled to lead what eventually became a militant movement against the rulers of Gobir and other states for their adherence to "paganism" (or tolerance of it) and restrictions on orthodox Islam. 

While the biography of Uthman dan Fodio is revealing of intellectual and religious thought in the Central Sudan during his era, Hiskett's sources are mainly from the Shehu or his family and supporters. This inherent bias does place limitations on his general narrative of the Shehu's career. The perspective of the Gobirawa dynasty, for instance, has to be gleamed from the pro-jihad sources Hiskett relies on. With the exception of the correspondence with al-Kanemi of Borno, one finds little, at least in terms of Central Sudan's Muslim intellectuals, of the regional scholars opposed to the jihad. Perhaps recent scholarship, with access to more Arabic (or Hausa) manuscripts from the pre-jihad era, can shed fuller light on the array of opinion and intellectual climate within the region and the relationship of the scholars to issues of reform, ulama-state relations, and, eventually, Uthman dan Fodio. 

Nonetheless, there is much insight in Hiskett's biography and use of local Hausa sources (in Arabic and Hausa), particularly as they shed light on the transformation of the Sokoto Caliphate and the ideal state based on Sharia the Shehu and his followers sought to establish. For instance, Hiskett argues that the Shehu accepted ijma and was a devout Sufi, therefore disqualifying him from classification as a fundamentalist or Wahhabi-influenced. The gradual readoption or return to Hausa political titles in the Sokoto Caliphate, for example, or accusations of corruption and greed against political officials in it also harkened back to pre-jihad political problems of the Hausa states. While the Shehu sought to, through his brother Abdullah b. Muhammad and son, Muhammad Bello, to lay the foundations for a state closer to their Islamic ideal, the Sokoto Caliphate fell short of its initial goals. However, it further entrenched the importance and spread of Islam in the area through uniting most of the Hausa areas into a state based, in theory, on Islamic law and the prominent role of scholars. Through the encouragement of local writing in Hausa and Fulfulde on Islamic themes, the Shehu and his followers undoubtedly played a pivotal role in strengthening northern Nigeria's Islamic identity and orientation. 

al-Tunisi's Darfur

Muhammad al-Tunisi's account of his voyage to Darfur, translated from the Arabic into English as In Darfur, is one of the major sources for reconstructing the history of the Darfur Sultanate. Based on his experiences there and covering the late 18th century and early 19th century period of the Keira rulers, al-Tunisi describes his travels there, gender relations, the political offices, diet, domestic architecture, magic and local superstitions, local politics, and social and ethnic divisions. The multiethnic Darfur sultanate included a mix of various ethnic groups, including Zaghawa, Fur, Arab, Fulani, and others. 

Due to al-Tunisi's own background as someone coming from an educated family and claiming descent from the Prophet, he and his father found favor and support in Darfur, even receiving a fief with rights to the taxation of villages. Because of his privileged position in Darfur and shared religion with the elites of Darfur, al-Tunisi's description of Darfur (and Wadai) occasionally provides more insights into the nature of the kingdom than that of later European travelers who were outsiders. Of course, al-Tunisi was still a biased outsider in another sense, bringing an Arab, North African perspective on Fur sexual mores, gender relations, and improper practices such as the possible human sacrifice.

Despite his own biases and sexism, al-Tunisi is an important source for documenting how extensive Darfur's links to the outside world were. The Sudanic belt, from Timbuktu and Mali in the west to Sinnar and Abyssinia in the East, and from the Maghreb and Egypt to Dar Runga and Dar Fartit in the south, the world of Darfur in this era was closely tied to regional, African, and global networks. The rulers of Darfur, for instance, used a royal seal made in Egypt. The sultan used the title of khaqan like the Ottoman sultan, too. An Egyptian fellah and musketeer named Zabadi served in the Darfur army. Darfur's ruler Tayrab invaded Kordofan. 

In addition, after the French invasion of Egypt, Zawanah Kashif fled to Darfur, was well-received and then plotted to murder the sultan. Darfur was, through its trade links to Sinnar, Egypt, North Africa and the rest of Sudanic Africa, was clearly a participant in global trade. Political ramifications of the French invasion of Egypt also reached Darfur, just as epidemic diseases from the Islamic Holyland struck Wadai. While some may think of the Darfur sultanate as an insignificant, minor African kingdom, al-Tunisi's account indicates the opposite. Indeed, during this era, Darfur was particularly important on a regional level, even as succession crises fueled civil wars. 

Ancient Nubia

P.L. Shinnie's Ancient Nubia manages the nearly impossible task of covering thousands of years of Nubian history from prehistoric times until the fall of the Christian kingdoms. Obviously, to cover so much time in a short volume requires omissions. Nonetheless, Shinnie's readable account is a nice summary of what was known at the time about the general history of Nubia. And while he occasionally expressed a strange, perhaps outdated perspective on "race" and the A-Group and C-Group peoples as "non-negro" or not black, Shinnie's survey stresses continuity as a major factor in Nubia's cultural history. Thus, the A-Group, C-Group, Kerma/Kush, Napatan, and Meroitic phases in the region's history present several areas of continuity. The "Egyptianized" elites of the period of New Kingdom rule and the Napatan-Meroitic phase are perhaps an expected result of centuries of Egyptian domination. However, even they inherited much from Kush and applied Egyptian models to local conditions and needs. That said, the Meroitic phase, perhaps the one in which rule urbanism, the arts, and trade were at their zenith, could have received a longer chapter. After all, if Meroe represented the zenith of the Napata-Meroe rulers, why not dedicate more space to theories of its development, ideology, and relations with the neighboring areas of Africa and the ancient world? And speaking of Meroe, why so little to say about Alwa, despite that region of Nubia likely benefitting from rain-fed cultivation as well as pastoralism and river-based agriculture? Certainly Alwa may have presented a medieval example comparable to Meroe's greatness.

Feudalism in Borno

While perusing Ronald Cohen's "The Dynamics of Feudalism in Bornu" we felt compelled to record some of our thoughts. Cohen, building on his ethnographic work among the Kanuri, endeavors to apply the feudal framework to the political system of Borno. Since the "fief" was allocated from the Sayfawa mai (or Kanembu Shehus) to nobles with the right to tax said land, but the central authority never lost the ability to revoke such allotments, Cohen sees Borno as diverging from feudalism as developed in medieval Europe. Moreover, Cohen sees in the Borno case another major difference due to the inconsistency of primogentire for royal succession. Unlike Europe, where primogeniture became the rule, several rulers of Kanem-Borno were succeeded by non-filial relatives. The large size of the Magumi royal clan and the growth of various lineage segments throughout the course of its long history created conditions in which there were always a number of potential contenders for the throne.

Adding into the mix of this often volatile political equation is the role of a major council that invested new kings. Cohen did not delve deeper into this, but a council who confirmed the new king plus competing lineages for the royal throne created conditions in which Borno's political system was often unstable, particularly after famines, unsuccessful wars, or other moments of crisis. In order to combat this instability in royal succession, Borno rulers began to increasingly rely on slave officials and outsiders of the Sayfawa lineages in order to ensure loyalty. In order to maintain the loyalty of subordinates, the rulers of Borno ensured they possessed the means to revoke fiefs given to them and maintained their subordinate position. Furthermore, the ubiquitous role of the patron-client relations and relative absence of currency led to a general social pattern in which subordinates provided labor, fealty and services to a superior in exchange for protection, occupation, economic advancement, political office, and security. Overall, the "unique" Borno feudal state was centralized in some ways but appears to have been inherently unstable in the long-run, yet Cohen may have missed aspects of stability and centralizing tendencies apparent in apparently "weak" rulers of the Sayfawa dynasty. 

A Short History of Benin

Jacob Egharevba's A Short History of Benin is one of those classic texts on a well-known West African historical state. Egharevba's short account is mainly based on oral sources. Due to his family background and access to the royal court and keepers of the historical tradition, Egharevba's short history manages to cover over 700 years of history in 100 pages (fourth edition). While some may take issue with his attempt to read Oranmiyan as a historical king of Benin or perhaps even the historicity of the Ogiso kings who preceded the descendants of Oranmiyan, Egharevba's account supplies a number of important details on Benin from the 15th century until 1897. In fact, a number of details, anecdotes, and episodes of political conflict during the reigns of various obas points to the ongoing struggle between the obas and the Uzama, Iyase, and other sources of authority. 

Indeed, at different moments, Benin supposedly tried a republican form of government. Unpopular, greedy obas were also sometimes overthrown or challenged by its subjects. This long-running dynamic between royal authority and the kingmakers and chiefs could sometimes be won in the favor of the obas. However, even some of the most notable obas, like Ewuare, allegedly caused great misfortune during his mourning of the death of his two sons. Princes sometimes fought for the throne, showing another of instability in the political system (in spite of an oba enacting primogeniture as the rule of succession). Furthermore, the longer reigns of some obas also created problems if they were succeeded by old sons. These heirs to the throne may have been less effective at resisting the council of kingmakers and other chiefs. Perhaps the situation was analogous to the period of older alafins in Oyo appointed by the Oyo Mesi, an issue mentioned by Robin Law's analysis of that Yoruba kingdom.

Benin was also fascinating for its relations with Europe. Although Ryder should probably be read for a full account of that, Egharevba's account suggests local Christianity persisted in some form until the late 17th century. Indeed, he claims one oba and a number of princes were actually literate in Portuguese. Other obas took an interest in European technology, like telescopes. The full story of Benin's relations with the West are interesting, but it would have been interesting if Egharevba had been able to find more information about the local use of Portuguese for literacy and the manner in which the Ohensa administered the local Catholic churches. Additionally, though it would have been difficult when first published, it would have enriched the study if analysis of the famous Benin bronzes was attempted. According to Egharevba, the art of brass casting entered Benin from Ife and the pieces were part of the local method of recording history. A careful analysis of those artistic masterpieces, European textual sources, and Benin oral traditions, including those outside the royal court, would have led to a richer history of one of the major kingdoms of precolonial Nigeria. 

Questions from al-Lamtuni to al-Suyuti

Reading John Hunwick's "Notes on a late fifteenth-century document concerning 'al-Takrur'"in African Perspectives is essential for early Air history and local Islamic reformism. Although some scholars disagree with locating al-Lamtuni's home in Air or Takedda, Hunwick presents a convincing case for a Air origin. The nature of al-Lamtuni's questions posed to the Egyptian scholar, al-Suyuti, allude to a region whose population included a mixture of Tuareg, Hausa and likely Fulbe elements. The Tuareg practice of matrilineal inheritance, female spirit possession (and the Hausa bori cult), an elaborate royal court culture reminiscent of Agadez and Hausa states, and the belief in "idols," employment of praise singers and dancers, and prostration before the ruler sound like Agadez (or, alternatively, another state in the Central Sudan and even parts of the Western Sudan). According to al-Lamtuni, women and men did not conduct themselves appropriately and local residents also frequently raided each other and plundered. This sounds like the Tuareg of Air, although other Saharan Berber populations could be intended. However, in light of all the evidence and the likelihood that al-Suyuti wrote his response to al-Lamtuni at the same time as his epistles to the rulers of Agadez and Katsina, Hunwick is probably correct to assume al-Lamtuni was describing the society of late 15th century Air. 

As Hunwick states, the Islam of the masses was likely weak and retained several local customs, superstitions, and practices. The belief in sorcery, ill-omened days or birds, possession of women by jinn, and passion for charms or talismans do suggest either the Air region or, perhaps, the area of the Niger Bend. However, what is even more interesting about the short exchange between two intellectuals is what it suggests about the nature of the state in the Central Sudan. Although the sultans of Agadez were initially chosen as arbiters of the Tuareg clans in the region, their courts and their attempts to consolidate authority and control taxation resemble those of Sudanic states. Indeed, according to al-Lamtuni, the rulers of his land divided land into smaller units, perhaps "fiefs," whose appointees collected taxes on behalf of the ruler. These local officials, sometimes chiefs or elders or others, proceeded to overtax those lands and exploit the population. Some even chose to allow "pagans" to inhabit their lands, engaged in commerce with them, or associated with them rather than Muslims. This is perhaps a reference to the lightly-Islamized or non-Islamic rural Hausa and Fulbe in the region as well as very lax Tuareg. Hunwick even sees an early reference to the pivotal salt trade from Bilma to Air and Hausaland in al-Lamtuni's questions. If so, the trade in salt between Bilma and Kawar to Hausaland via Air must have been a major source of revenue and exchange for the rulers of Agadez. Borno, at the time still the dominant power in Kawar, must have also especially interested in secure trade routes and influence in Air or its surroundings. 

Despite its limitations, al-Lamtuni's questions are a testament to the early Agadez state's attempts to establish a system of taxation and administration that derived revenue from taxes in kind. Moreover, the state established a system of market dues on horses, camels, goats, cows, slaves, firewood, clothes, as well as entry and exist at the city gates. While Hunwick believed the rulers of this region could have also been a reference to the Agadez, Takedda and a third local ruler, we find it more likely for it to represent a single burgeoning royal court at Agadez. It established a system of taxation and land tenure that, despite the limitations of its authority over the Tuareg, was able to lay the foundations for a state that persisted into the 19th century. As a royal court with Hausa and Central Sudanic foundations, one can glimpse the attempts at statecraft of a Central Sudanic type seen in Kanem-Borno or among the Hausa states. The process in this case, however, never quite succeeded to attain the degree of centralization of the prominent Hausa states or Borno. Perhaps due to the lack of a sufficient agricultural base and internecine conflicts among the Tuareg clans of Air, Agadez could not centralize to the same degree as Borno. Nonetheless, the Islamic reformism of its scholars undoubtedly influenced Uthman dan Fodio and the jihad that transformed the Central Sudan in the 19th century. 

Robin Law's Oyo Empire

Robin Law's The Ọyọ Empire, c.1600-c.1836: a West African imperialism in the era of the Atlantic slave trade was one of those important studies of a major West African polity that we found difficult to read a year ago. We believed it was relying too heavily on fragmentary traditions and hearsay that entered into the contemporary European sources to be sufficiently accurate. However, since it was published in the 1970s and of course relied heavily on local oral traditions in addition to classic studies by Yoruba authors like Johnson, we decided to revisit Law's book. As he himself admitted, his study relied on limited sources and some of its conclusions will hopefully be advanced or rebutted by subsequent scholarship. Nonetheless, as one would expect from a meticulous like Law who has written extensively on the Slave Coast, his study of the Oyo Empire during the same era endeavors to contextualize Oyo's expansion in the era of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. 

Oyo, as major supplier of captives to the ports of the Slave Coast, was, however, a hinterland kingdom based on a cavalry force. This cavalry, supplied from the north, meant Oyo was deeply connected to Nupe, Bariba, and even Hausaland and Borno for horses, equipment, and goods acquired through trans-Saharan trade. Thus, Oyo provides an interesting example of an Atlantic trading state (which for a time commanded tribute from Porto Novo, Badagry, Allada and Dahomey) which also had close ties to the savanna states to the north. Indeed, the mention of "Yoruba" slaves by Timbuktu scholar Ahmad Baba and the trade in horses and slaves between Kano and the Nupe must have brought the Oyo Yoruba into contact with Muslim Sudanic West African traders by the 16th century. After a period of Bariba and Nupe rule, a resurgent Oyo was able, by the 1600s, able to expand and use its own cavalry to assert itself effectively in savanna territories around Oyo (and the southwest). Even some hilly areas or regions with politically fragmented Yoruba fell under Oyo rule, through a combination of Oyo colonists and military force. Gradually, Oyo was able to profit from both the Atlantic trade via the coast as well as the northern trade routes that linked it to the Sudanic regions. 

Instead of providing captives to the north in exchange for horses, like in its earlier period of growth, Oyo was able to trade cowries and European goods for horses from northern suppliers. Indeed, by the late 18th century, with access to the coast through ports like Porto Novo, Oyo was likely a major supplier of Hausa and northern slaves to the Atlantic trade. Oyo's own textile industry and far-ranging traders also continued to prosper, seeming to avoid any negative internal impact of the slave trade (such as insecurity) until its later years of decline. Indeed, Oyo may have benefitted from a more monetized economy stimulated by trade, cowries, textiles, foodstuffs produced for traders (and captives) and redistributed imported European goods or silks, natron and leather goods from the north. Oyo, like Dahomey and Asante, appears to have been able to combine imperial expansion and Atlantic slave trade to become wealthier states. Unfortunately for Oyo, however, political centralization did not reach the level of Benin, Dahomey or Asante. The alafins of Oyo were never able to completely subdue the powerful Oyo Mesi and the Basorun, who controlled the capital's army. Instead, the alafins of Oyo had to rely on palace slaves and officials they appointed to oversee provinces, collect tribute, and command the provincial army to expand the state and increase their own power. 

However, after Basorun Gaha seized power in the middle of the 18th century, Abiodun was only able to restore the alafin to effective authority through an alliance with the head of the provincial army. This, however, led to further problems with the coup d'etat against Awole in c.1796, when the head of the provincial army decided to rebel against Awole. This, followed by Afonja inciting a Muslim rebellion and further conflict between provincial leaders against an Alafin who could accumulate too much power, paved the way for Oyo's eventual collapse. Oyo, according to Law, was thus unable to attain a comparable degree of centralization to that of Benin, Dahomey and Asante. Whether or not it was really due to the reliance on cavalry for the military (the costs of maintenance for imported horses being too costly for kings alone to finance), Law appears to be correct in noting the lack of adequate centralization to ensure imperial stability. Consequently, after reaching perhaps its imperial and slave trading peak in the 1780s, Oyo declined afterwards as Afonja and the repercussions of Uthman dan Fodio's jihad destroyed Oyo. 

What we find interesting about Oyo is in its role as an imperial middleman between the Sudanic states and the Atlantic. Horses from the north, captives and luxuries acquired through the trans-Saharan trade were sold in Oyo just as European products and cowries circulated north. Oyo, through its reliance on cavalry, may have lacked the degree of centralization of Borno (despite a similar "fief" system of allocating tribute rights) since it had to incur the costs of importing horses and maintenance. Oyo, nonetheless, appears to have faced limitations on its expansion as the forested southern Yorubaland territories were able to resist cavalry. Northern expansion was thwarted by the Nupe and Bariba states who possessed easier access to horses, even if Oyo did succeed in imposing tribute on southern Nupe and Bariba states. Even Oyo expansion to the southwest, for access to the coast through Dahomey and Porto Novo, was likewise limited by the rainy season that made it difficult to permanently retain control over the area. In conclusion, Oyo may have been more restricted than some of its northern, cavalry-based trading partners due to the geographic and climate factors in Lower Guinea. Perhaps these checks imposed on Oyo expansion contributed to the weakening of centralization? If, perhaps, an interior kingdom with access to horses had been able to permanently conquer and administer Dahomey and Porto Novo, unhindered access to Atlantic trade and ongoing northern economic exchange may have stimulated a more centralized Oyo with effective use of firearms?

What is Sufism?

Enjoy this detailed overview on Sufism from one of the best Youtube channels covering religion. As someone interested in the spread of Sufism in the Central Sudan, particularly Borno, it is necessary to understand the larger history and context of it. This is a good start.

The Slave Coast

Robin Law's The Slave Coast of West Africa 1550–1750: The Impact of the Atlantic Slave Trade on an African Society offers a fascinating analysis of the Slave Coast during the era of a growing slave trade with Europe. Differing from scholars like Polanyi or Akinjogbin, Law focuses on the impact of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade as a stimulus to commercialization of the economy. The growth of European trade in the region appears to have fueled monetization and market forces through currencies (cowries), imported goods that reached local markets (not just elites or kings for redistribution), sources of iron and thread for smiths and weavers, foodstuffs trade (to provision slave ships), exports of textiles and akori beads for the Gold Coast, and the rise of mercenaries and soldiers for hire. While features of this commercial economy likely existed in the pre-Atlantic trade era, particularly the trade in salt from the coast or trade in textiles, beads, provisions, ivory, and slaves, the trade with Europeans fueled this process. 

In a sense, one could argue that the Atlantic trade did not hinder economic development of the Slave Coast. However, the unknown demographic impact and the necessity of violence to procure captives undoubtedly led to instability and conflict over access to European trade. This process, according to Law, favored the eventual emergence of a hinterland kingdom, Dahomey, as the dominant power due to its military ethos and ability to procure captives for the coastal ports. Dahomey, like Allada and Whydah, learned to combine a mixed position as middleman and supplier of captives yet ultimately failed to create a new kind of state or "revolution" in Slave Coast precolonial polities. Dahomey, despite some decline in the number of captives exported after the conquest of Whydah and Allada, eventually stabilized its exports and was certainly heavily influenced by the European trade. 

Indeed, besides being more autocratic and, eventually, integrating conquered peoples, Dahomey appears to have become rather similar to Allada and Whydah, the two earlier dominant states in the region. Allada, whose decline was already visible by the late 17th century, was once the paramount power in the region (despite also once being under the overlordship of Benin and Oyo). Like the future Dahomey, at least the Dahomey of Tegbesu, Allada and Whydah were ruled by kings who practiced some degree of ritual seclusion, patronized specific cults that were public festivals, engaged in trade with Europe, and competed with each other and subordinate coastal ports and regions for a share in the market of slaves. Women, unlike men, were favored for local slavery while occasional trade wars between Allada and Whydah destabilized both. The western Slave Coast was also impacted by Gold Coast refugees, mercenaries, and bandits who became an additional source of instability and conflict over control of the Slave Coast's lucrative trade. In fact, Dahomey inherited this as post-conquest Whydah rulers fled west for refuge and a branch of the Allada ruling family emerged in Porto Novo. The eastern portion of the Slave Coast increased in importance for the trade with Europe via towns like Badagry while Dahomey's rulers struggled to consolidate their hold over Allada and Whydah. Over time, the Dahomey kingdom seems to have created a provincial administration and endeavored to combine royal control and private share in the slave trade with a supplier and middleman role. 

Ultimately, despite acting as a stimulus to commercialization and economic exchange, the the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade's legacy in the Slave Coast appears to have created disastrous demographic impacts and a reliance on violence in one form or another to continue. Dahomey's catastrophic depopulation of Whydah, for instance, plus the raiding of various inland communities, must have, at best, neutralized the economic stimulation from trade with Europe. Nonetheless, history of Allada, Whydah and Dahomey during these pivotal centuries illustrates how the trans-Atlantic economic networks were deeply linked to interior African polities, such as Oyo. Through these links to Oyo and the Malais or Muslim traders active on the Slave Coast by the early 1700s, one can connect trans-Saharan, trans-Atlantic, and intra-West African trade networks that illustrate global connectivity. Through the trade of captives native to the Slave Coast, one can also detect their legacy in the Americas through religion, culture, and even, for a time, Allada textiles exported to Barbados. 

Wangara Chronicle

Although unfortunately too brief, a 17th century chronicle on the origins of Wangara Islamic scholars in 15th century Kano is a priceless document. Translated into English by Muhammad Al-Hajj, "A Seventeenth Century Chronicle On the Origins and Missionary Activities of the Wangarawa" corroborates some of the information in the famous Kano Chronicle. Based on the quality of paper and writing style of the manuscript, Al-Hajj believes the document was probably written down in the 1700s or perhaps earlier, in 1650/51 according to the colophon. That said, it contains information on Shaikh Zagaite and Wangara traders influencing Muhammad Rumfa from a period of perhaps 150 years earlier than that of its author. Thus, the chronicle likely relies on a mix of oral traditions and some documents to trace the genealogy of descendants of Zagaite. Its earlier section on the migration of Zagaite from Wangara (near Maqzara, or what was sometimes called Takrur) through Mali, Gobir, Azben, Katsina and Kano seems to draw from oral traditions that sought to explain the presence of Wangara in various parts of West Africa. This illustrates the wider diasporic network of Wangara traders and Muslim teachers who undoubtedly played a critical role in the Islamization of Kano, Katsina and other parts of West Africa. This network must have brought Islamic influences into parts of the Hausaland just as Islamic influences from the east, via Borno, and Islamic influences from the north likely converged to a greater extent in the 14th and 15th centuries.

Besides providing a short explanation of Shaikh Zagaite's gradual migration to Kano, the chronicle also connects him to al-Maghili (Sidi Fari), a famous North African scholar who had influenced Askia Muhammad of Songhay and Muhammad Rumfa of Kano. According to this chronicle, both Zagaithe and al-Maghili were respected scholars who contributed to the spread of Islam. Indeed, a miraculous account reported here claims that Shaikh Zagaite's intercession was necessary for the Muslims to successfully cut down a sacred tree of the pagans. After Zagaite's intercession through prayer, a mosque was built on the grounds of the tree, another symbol of Islam's victory over pre-Islamic traditions in Kano. In addition, Zagaite was said to have surpassed an Egyptian visitor in terms of scholarship, suggesting that the critical study of al-Khalil in Kano began with Zagaite. According to Al-Hajj, however, the chronicler was actually incorrect so the anecdote was likely inserted or distorted to suggest a greater intellectual stature for Zagaite than an Egyptian. Regardless of this possibly distorted or fabricated anecdote, the chronicle places Zagaite on a similar level as al-Maghili in terms of influence and respect from Muhammad Rumfa. This suggests that Wangara Muslim scholars were perceived as similarly knowledgeable and reputable as North Africans in late 15th century Kano. 

Indeed, according to this chronicle, Zagaite and his sons were rewarded by Muhammad Rumfa with fiefs or lands. Zagaite actually wanted his progeny to carry on the tradition of learning and close relations with the rulers of Kano, too. Thus, the genealogical information recorded in the chronicle may have been motivated by a desire to combat discord and divisions among the descendants of Zagaite. Perhaps, over a 150 years or more, the extended family had been divided and conflict over royal patronage had become significant enough to warrant a short family history. Indeed, discord within kinship groups and disrespect for one's parents were repeatedly mentioned as sinful behavior. Thus, the primary purpose of this short text may have been to remind descendants of Zagaite of their common origin and restore some degree of harmony to a family divided by time and politics. Recalling an ancestor believed to possess baraka and to have performed miracles through the aid of God must have been a powerful way to assert this, even if readers in the 21st century obviously do not believe demons or devils sprung forth from the sacred tamarind tree or that Zagaite was able to lower the depth of the sea (Niger River?) when leaving Mali to perform the pilgrimage. Unfortunately, allusions to Borno were absent but allusions in the Diwan and Kano Chronicle indicate influences from Kanem-Borno in Kano by the late 14th century.