Sheikhs of the Koyam and the Legacy of Kalumbardo

Family Tree of Koyam Shaykhs

The Koyam and the history of Kalumbardo is an important one in the annals of Borno history as well as that of the Central Sudan. Although the community was important enough to contribute to the origin of the Zinder state's ruling dynasty as well as to the spread of Sufi and Islamic practices across Borno and, perhaps, Wadai and Bagirmi, we unfortunately know too little of the community's history. Besides the oral traditions collected by Landeroin at the beginning of the 20th century and occasional references to Kalumbardo's widely respected shaykh in the 17th century in Maghribi sources, the history of the community remains to be told. Fortunately, what can be gleamed from the history of Sidi al-Baghdadi's movement in the Air desert plus other references to Sufism and asceticism in Kanem-Borno and Sudanic Africa, sheds some light on the history of the Kalumbardo community.

First, it's shadowy origins. While Muhammad Bello described a community called Kalumbardo that was in existence by the time of Umar b. Idris, mai of Borno in the years 1619-1639. Of course, this was not the first center of Sufism in Borno and certainly not the first mallamti or community or fief recognized by the mai's of the Sayfawa. Indeed, according to Rémi Dewière, Sufism of the Shadilya sect was practiced in Borno before the 17th century. Evidence of this was detected in his study of Ahmad b. Furtu's chronicles of mai Idris b. Ali suggests practices close to those of al-Sadili as well as earlier references to ascetics in Kanem during the 14th century. However, the history of Kalumbardo is a better documented history of a community defined, in part, by Sufist practices or influences. 

According to  to Muhammad Bello of the Sokoto Caliphate, this first Kalumbardo community was led by a Shaykh Waldeed and al-Waliyy b. al-Jarmi, a Tuareg. The two, Fulani and Tuareg, were said to have spread Sufism, and the former allegedly had studied in Agadez and Timbuktu. This suggests that the original Kalumbardo community was led by two reputable Sufis with links to Agadez and Timbuktu, prominent centers for Islamic scholarship that had been under Songhay control in the 1500s. Moreover, according to Bello's account, Umar b. Idris had al-Jarmi executed while Waldeel fled to Baghiri. This account of the mai's crackdown on the first Kalumbardo community sounds very similar to Bello's recounting of the end of Shaykh al-Baghdadi in Air. Said to have been killed by the sultan of Agadez at Aghalanga, the conflict was instigated by court-affiliated scholars who urged the sultan to target Shaykh al-Baghdadi. Thus, we may have something of a common literary trope in which a venerated Islamic holyman is martyred by a secular ruler whose court-aligned ulama see in the holyman a threat to their own status and the power of the sultan. Of course, in the case of al-Baghdadi in Air, his status as a sharif added another layer of threat. 

John Lavers, in his article "Diversions on a Journey of the Travels of Shaykh Ahmad al-Yamani," adds further detail to the history of this earlier Kalumbardo. According to him, some traditions remember the Tuareg leader of the first Kalumbardo as al-Jarmiya al-Tarqi as a teacher of Abd al-Karim b. Jame, the first sultan of Wadai. While other traditions claim Wadai's founder had studied at Bidderi in Baghirmi, this location in the Baghirmi kingdom was a settlement associated with the Torobbe Fulani and Islamic scholarship. However, does not necessarily contradict the other tradition associating Wadai's founder with th Tuareg at the first Kalumbardo. After all, the Shaykh Waldeel of Muhammad Bello was said to have escaped Borno for Baghirmi. Thus, this early Kalumbardo community, which probably arose before the reign of Umar b. Idris, enjoyed or later extended itself through its persecution, far links to Agadez, Timbuktu, Bagirmi and Wadai. And to make things even more confusing, it is possible that, according to traditions cited by Lavers, it was Ibrahim b. Idris, a brother who reigned as mai before Umar b. Idris, who had been responsible for destroying the first Kalumbardo community.

What occurred after the dissolution of the first Kalumbardo community, which appears to have lacked the ethnic Koyam affiliation or identification of the second Kalumbardo? We know that, by the 1660s, during the reign of Ali b. Umar of Borno, Kalumbardo was again associated with a venerated Shaykh whose piety, scholarship, and asceticism led to his reputation reaching Sinnar and North Africa. He was, Shaykh Abdullay al-Barnawi, or Abdullay b. And el-Djelil. According to Bobboyi, he was a scion of the Sayfawa dynasty and the first Shaykh of the re-formed Kalumbardo town or settlement, also called Belbelec. While it is said that many mothers of Sayfawa rulers were women from the Koyam, and the Koyam reputation for Islamic scholarship was still respected in the 19th century since Shehu al-Kanemi had apparently studied with them, the exact origins of the Koyam's presence in the northwestern borderlands of the Borno state remain unclear. Indeed, Lovejoy's Salt of the Desert Sun suggests Kawar origins of the Koyam, perhaps a indicating the early Sayfawa dynasty's northern alliances with nomadic populations in medieval times through marriage alliances with women from their clans. This appears to be true, if the Koyam are indeed the same as the Kay mentioned in the Diwan and their links to Kawar and the salt trade suggest their economic importance in Borno. Nonetheless, in the traditions and sources cited by Maikorema Zakari, this Abdullah founded the second Kalumbardo with 40 Koyam during the reign of Ali b. Umar (a mai famous for his piety and support for Islamic scholarship). While the Koyam, a pastoralist sub-group of the Kanuri later split into the Kel Etti and other branches, in the 17th century, under Shaykh al-Barnawi, this particular Koyam community enjoyed great repute. Indeed, the first Shaykh, said to have been born in 1614, was associated with miracles, great learning, and even attempts at social reform with Tuareg and Tubu bandits in the area. This Kalumbardo shaykh was credited with converting many non-Muslims, marrying slave girls and then giving them (with his children by them) to Tuareg and Tubu, and promoting Islamic asceticism among his followers. 

But who was this Abdallah al-Barnawi? According to the Nashr al-Mathani, ultimately relying on the account of Kalumbardo given by Ahmad al-Yamani of Arbaji, al-Barnawi enjoyed mystical powers. He was man man said to have been light in color, tall, possessing middle build and had large eyes. He took a vow of poverty and members of his community often pursued separate areas for retreat, or khalwa. They regrouped for communal prayers and chanting. Shaykh al-Barnawi also appeared to have been a fervent believer in the ability of people to change and respect for life. After all, the same North African sources, Nash al-Mathani includes a brief anecdote of al-Barnawi's anger when a disciple prayed for God to destroy the Tuareg. In addition to his embrace of prayer and medication, al-Barnawi also possessed a thorough knowledge of the Koran, grammar, theology, and other texts. He was said to have read the Alfiya of Ibn Malik on grammar and may have even studied in modern-day Sudan with Dafa 'Allah of Arbaji. If true, this may explain one of the reasons al-Yamani of Arbaji traveled to Kalumbardo in 1671, because its leader had been known in the Funj Sultanate. If so, this suggests far-reaching networks of Islamic scholarship, Sufist practices, and mutual influences between Borno and the Funj Sultanate. Perhaps the Islamization of Wadai and Darfur in the 17th century facilitated this process, as a trade and pilgrimage route that traversed Sudanic Africa was likely of growing importance in this era. In fact, Nashr al-Mathani also mentioned al-Yamani's travels to Air, where he studied under Ahmad al-Targui al-Lamtouni. Similarly, Norris's Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert also claimed al-Barnawi had studied in or near Agadez with Uwayis, just as Lavers argued that the Tuareg Ahmad as-Sadiq b. Ab. Muhammad Uways had traveled to Arbaji. These far-flung networks connected Borno's Kalumbardo with Air, the Sinnar Sultanate, and North Africa. In this light, it is perhaps of interest that the ascetic practices described by Sufis in Air, the Sinnar Sultanate, and Borno would be interesting to compare, particularly with regards to the khalwa, wird, the role of music, group meditation, fasting, the presence of spirits and beliefs about the sanctity of animal lives.

What was the fate of the second Kalumbardo community? It's shaykh, Abdullah al-Barnawi, was killed by the Tuareg in an attack that occurred in 1677 or 1678. However, before the demise of its leader, the community received support from the mai of Borno. According to Lavers, a qadi named Abu Bakr went to Ali b. Umar, claiming the Kalumfardo leader was plotting a revolt. The shaykh was called to Birni Gazargamo, impressed the mai and then received support as the mai sent artisans to erect brick buildings in his settlement. This must have been part of the town's rise as it received exemption from taxes (which was likely recognized in writing via a mahram, recognizing the community's tax-exempt status) and attracted students, farmers, hunters, traders, and others. If the traditions collected in the Tilho Mission are reliable, Belbelec developed into a town of great extent. Unfortunately, its good fortunes were not to last. Famines and Tuareg attacks culminated in one raid by the Immikitan Tuareg that resulted in the death of the shaykh. Nonetheless, the town would relocate and prosper in Gaskeru, after al-Barnawi's son, Umar, led the community to as far away as Nupe. It was during this era of dispersal after 1678 that one person from the community, remembered as Mallam in the traditions, chose to settle in the area of Zinder or Damagaram and became its first sultan.  

The dispersed Kalumbardo community, led by Umar, eventually returned to Borno, staying at the capital until the mai (a son of Ali b. Umar?) granted Umar's community tax exempted status at Gaskeru. At Gaskeru, the mai allegedly sent 1000 workers for the construction of a mosque and Gaskeru. And, according to the traditions collected for the Tilho Mission, Shaykh Umar reigned with justice, not oppressing the population. In this regiard, one can see shaykh Umar's power as, per Lavers, a theocratic state within Borno that attracted residents through its just ruler and, perhaps, tax-exempt status. Successive shaykhs of the Koyam at Gaskeru began to claim a more political role, appointing disciples as chiefs or imams of areas under their control. The same aforementioned traditions claim the area controlled by the Koyam shaykhs even had 1000 villages under its control. This suggests that the community at Gaskeru became akin to some of the so-called fiefdoms discussed in the works of Muhammad Nur Al-Kali and Ronald Cohen on Borno land tenure and administration. Bakr, or Beker in the French Tilho Mission rendering, a son of Shaykh Mustapha, is remembered as having more loyal supporters than Mai Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama of Borno, whose soldiers abandoned him and let him become wounded in the 1781 invasion of Mandara. Unlike the mai, the Koyam shaykh, who did not personally arm and supply his 1000 followers, was said to have been complimented by the Sayfawa sultan for his devoted followers.

The latter days of Sayfawa rule did lead to troubled times for the Koyam shaykhs, however. Abdullah, the brother of Bakr, faced the Tuareg of Kutus and the Air Tuareg. With the help of the kaigama, Ali, they were able to push the Tuareg back but their forces were massacred when they pushed into Tuareg territory. Then, under Shaykh Ahmadu, the son of Bakr, Gaskeru was attacked and destroyed by the Tuareg. Ahmadu then led the community to Birni Gazargamo, to the Sandaram quarter. Under Shaykh Ibrahim b. Abdullah, they refused to return to Gaskeru and were settled at Zigaba. Another dispersal took place after Goni Mokhar attacked Gazargamo, leading to the flight of the Koyam and Mohammad Aitami becoming the shaykh. Later, after al-Kanemi became the effective ruler of Borno, he acknowledged Muhammad Aitami's tax-free status. This shaykh eventually died in 1835, after which another split among the Koyams and then another reunion under Shaykh Yamiama at Biskour.

While the 2 centuries of so of history of the Koyam is sadly not as documented as the period under its first shaykh, the traditions and other historical references do provide a fascinating overview of a Borno Islamic community linked to Islamic asceticism. By the end of the precolonial era, only a small subset of the Koyam population preserved the ascetic practices of chanting, spiritual retreats and fasting. Nonetheless, its survival over the centuries and its link to other parts of Africa attest to its importance. Not solely as a center for Borno Sufis and as a group who helped protect Borno's northern borders from Tuareg incursions, but as a group which influenced important figures in the annals of Borno's political history, like al-Kanemi, but also contributed to the rise of Wadai and Damagaram. Lastly, the first shaykh, with links to North Africa, Air, and Funj Sultanate, was esteemed enough to be widely venerated across much of Islamic Africa. One only wishes that al-Barnawi or one of his followers had written a text, like the Qudwa, that could tell us in more detail the practices and ideas of such a prominent figure in Borno's history. For instance, was al-Barnawi's community also believed in the presence of spirits in their prayer circles or gatherings? To what extent was al-Baghdadi's movement a model or influence? And were Sufi practices and fuqara villages in the Funj Sultanate, observed by Krump, perhaps similar spaces with some degree of overlap in belief and practice with Kalumbardo and Gaskeru?

Bibliography

Bobboyi, Hamidu. 1992. The ’Ulama of Borno : A Study of the Relations between Scholars and State under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808. Dissertation.

Brenner, Louis. The Shehus of Kukawa: A History of the Al-Kanemi Dynasty of Bornu. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973.

Dewière, Rémi. Du Lac Tchad à La Mecque: Le Sultanat Du Borno Et Son Monde (XVIe - XVIIe Siècle). Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2017.

Hassan, Yūsuf Fadl, and Paul Doornbos (editors). 1979. The Central Bilād Al-Sūdān : Tradition and Adaptation : Essays on the Geography and Economic and Political History of the Sudanic Belt : Proceedings of the Third International Conference of the Institute of African and Asian Studies, University of Khartoum, Held from 8 to 13 November 1977. Khartoum: The Institute.

Lange, Dierk. Le Dīwān Des Sultans Du (Kānem-)Bornū: Chronologie Et Histoire D'un Royaume Africain (de La Fin Du Xe Siècle Jusqu'à 1808). Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1977.

Lovejoy, Paul E. Salt of the Desert Sun: A History of Salt Production and Trade in the Central Sudan. Cambridge [Cambridgeshire] ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986.

Mission Tilho. Documents Scientifiques De La Mission Tilho. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1910.

Norris, H. T. 1990. Ṣūfī Mystics of the Niger Desert : Sīdī Maḥmūd and the Hermits of Aïr. Oxford England: Clarendon Press.

Usman, Yusufu Bala, and Nur Alkali (editors). 1983. Studies in the History of Pre-Colonial Borno. Zaria: Northern Nigerian Pub. Co.

Vikør, Knut S.The Oasis of Salt: The History of Kawar, a Saharan Centre of Salt Production. Bergen, Norway: Centre for Middle Eastern and Islamic Studies, 1999.

Yusuf, Salahudeen, and Muḥammad Bello. 2013. A History of Islam, Scholarship and Revivalism in Western Sudan, Being an Annotated Translation with Introduction of Infaqul-Maisur Fi Tarikh Bilad al-Tukur of Sultan Muhammad Bello Bin Fodio  / Salahudeen Yusuf. Zaria, Nigeria: Tamaza.

Zakari, Maïkorema. Contribution à L'histoire Des Populations De Sud-Est Nigérien: Le Cas Du Mangari (XVIe-XIXe S.). Niamey: Institut de recherches en sciences humaines, 1985.

Sudanese Sufi Music

Beautiful music from Sudan.

The Sudanese Travels of Theodor Krump

Spaulding's translation of Krump's journal, or at least the sections relevant to Sudan, translated as The Sudanese Travels of Theodoro Krump, is a short but important source on the Funj Sultanate at the beginning of the 18th century. Traveling as part of a mission to Ethiopia, some of the Jesuits and Franciscans who joined a caravan from Egypt to the south became trapped in Sinnar due to illness or, like Krump, served as a physician to the sultan of Sinnar. Although less detailed than one would like on the intricacies of the sultanate and its capital city, Krump's narrative provides the reader with a sense of the kingdom's economic purpose. Indeed, despite the frequent threat of Arab bandits and rebels against the sultanate attacking caravans traveling from Egypt, Krump considered Sinnar to be a wealthy city and one of the major trading emporiums of Africa. Goods and people arrived from Egypt, across the Red Sea, India, Ethiopia, Fezzan, and Borno, and Krump's time in the capital led him to meet Greeks, Portuguese, Turks, Abyssinians, Copts, and others in the cosmopolitan capital. This is impressive, considering what Krump saw as the insecure trade routes and the, to put it lightly, challenging or disloyal behavior of some of the vassal rulers to the Funj. 

Krump's narrative also provides the reader with a sense of the political and social conditions in the Sinnar Sultanate. For instance, Christianity, though no longer practiced, could be seen with the ruins of a monastery and churches. At one site, locals informed Krump that the population practiced Christianity as recently as 100 years ago, which is perhaps inaccurate if Christianity disappeared earlier in the 1500s. In addition, the fact that much of the population wore little clothing and already elites and vassal rulers relied on slave soldiers suggests the Sinnar Sultanate was a society in which, perhaps, adherence to Islam among the general population was not strict and it was easier for rulers to trust slaves. However, Krump did witness at least two villages of fuqara, villages or towns in which a Muslim scholar or holyman received immunity from the state. This has been proven by the land grants or charters issued by the Funj, yet one wishes Krump told us more about how these functioned. Of course, as a Catholic missionary who saw Islam as a false religion, he naturally was not interested in reporting on every detail of the Islamic society he was visiting. Nonetheless, his description of a jellab killing his sister for living an immodest life and what appears to have been a Sufi practice of chanting and prayer, particularly population with members of the caravan from Borno and the Fezzan, suggests Sufist practices were already widespread. Those from Borno and the Fezzan, however, were described as using a round bow covered with a skin under strong tension, which was then used to produce various tones of loud sounds. These are accompanied with singing and jumping in what was likely a Sufi or mystical Islamic practice? A look at the Sufist practices in Borno, the Fezzan, and Sinnar might lead one to see an early instance of Sufist practices connecting the the regions, particularly as we know that in the 17th century a native of the Funj Sultanate traveled to Borno's Sufist community at Kalumbardo.

Unfortunately, Krump is less useful for the particularities of Sinnar's relations with other Sudanic kingdoms. Ethiopia, whose conquest of Fazughli was only achieved about 15 years previously, plus frequent trade and communication between Sinnar and Gondar, made it the most frequently mentioned African kingdom in communication with Sinnar. However, the allusion to people from Borno and the Fezzan in Krump's caravan suggests that connections to lands to the west were also relevant. While the particular Fezzani and Bornoan travelers met by Krump may have come to the Sudan from Egypt, other sources suggest a route from the west, one that must have traversed Waday and Darfur, was already in use. Sadly, Krump's account tells us little about those western connections, which must have been of gradually increasing importance due to the establishment of Muslim sultanates in Darfur and Waday.

Rawdat’l-Afkaar

Although its brevity diminishes its use, Dan Tafa's Rawdat’l-Afkaar is a fascinating local source on the history of Hausaland and the Central Sudan. Presumably drawing on oral traditions and other written sources, Shaykh Dan Tafa's brief account outlines the history of the "Sudan" and in particular, the Hausa states. Gobir's history in particular is quite important given that Shaykh Uthman dan Fodio lived in Gobir before the jihad that led to the establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate. What is particularly interesting for our purposes, however, are the references to Borno and earlier epochs in the history of the Hausa states of the area. 

First, Borno. According to Shaykh Dan Tafa, Borno once dominated all or most of Hausaland. And, according to him, it was Gobir which first refused to pay tribute to Borno. However, Borno was never able to, according to Dan Tafa, conquer Air or Ahir. However, he does corroborate the role of Borno in coming to the aid of Ahir against the Kanta of Kebbi in the 1500s. Indeed, a brief account of mai Ali's battles with the Kanta of Kebbi can be found in Dan Tafa's chronicle. One also finds the familiar tradition of a man appointed to rule Hausaland by the ruler of Borno in the distant past, although one wonders if the translator's choice of the term "political captive" is accurate. Using that terminology might lead one to suspect slaves were appointed to administer subject provinces due to the greater expectation of loyalty, yet the actual conditions and type of provincial rulers or leaders could have been different when speaking of early Borno expansion into Hausaland. Indeed, even the question of tribute and what it actually entailed brings to mind one Nigerian's scholar's important point about reconsidering the relations between Hausaland and Borno as one of empire or Bornoan or Kanuri imperialism. Indeed, when Dan Tafa explains how an increasingly powerful Gobir demanded tribute from other Hausa states, it is also stated that Gobir sent fine gifts of horses as well. So, the gifts or tribute given to Gobir were reciprocated and it is not clear to what extent Gobir exerted any real control of tributary states. One can assume that a similar relationship existed when the Hausa states sent tribute to Borno through Daura. In fact, Heinrich Barth's description of Katsina's relationship with Borno seems to confirm this.

Unsurprisingly, however, the bulk of the short work is most useful for the history of Gobir and Hausaland. While its chronology is not always clear or perhaps is unreliable, it does offer some tentative and clear chronologies for certain events in the history of the region. First of all, Amina of Zaria or Zakzak is said to have raided as far southwest as the Atlantic Ocean. While this is perhaps exaggeration, one wonders if, when using the dates suggested by the Kano Chronicle, one can perhaps detect Zaria raiding and trading as far south as Yorubaland in the 1400s. Where the chronology seems more than a little unreliable, or perhaps earlier Gobir rulers were forgotten, is Dan Tafa's allusion to an alliance of Agabba of Ahir, Muhammad ibn Chiroma of Gobir and the ruler of Zamfara against Kebbi. If accurate, this would suggest a date in the late 1600s or during the reign of Muhammad Agabba of Air (who also established the sultanate of Adar through his line). However, Dan Tafa's chronicle claims Muhammad ibn Chiroma was the son of the first ruler of Gobir after their expulsion from Air, an event which must have occurred centuries earlier than the late 1600s and early 1700s. Thus, Chiroma was either the first "Gobir" king or the earlier rulers before they firmly established themselves as the kings of Gobir were forgotten or not recalled by Dan Tafa's sources. 

Despite the omission of Gobir's political history before the late 17th century and early 18th, Dan Tafa's account gives the reader an idea of Gobir's political power in Hausaland and in relation to its neighbors. Indeed, they were so bold as to attack the outskirts of Borno and Bawa, who ruled in the late 1700s, refused to send or pay tribute to Borno. One also finds interesting allusions to the power of Kebbi in the 1500s, particularly when its ruler established a capital at Surami that received water brought by the Tuareg who were forced to do so. Although Kebbi's power lasted for only about a century, one benefits from learning a few more details about this powerful Hausa state. Sadly, Kwararafa is only mentioned briefly and one is left in the dark about this southern power.

Timbuktu and the Arma

Michel Abitbol's Tombouctou et les arma is an important work on the history of the Pashalik of the Arma. Most people often ignore the 2 centuries or so of political and social history of Timbuktu and the Niger Bend after the fall of Songhay. Abitbol's work shows just how important that later, post-Songhay period was in terms of the Pashalik's political, social, economic, and regional importance. Indeed, the Pashalik persisted for so long partly because Timbuktu continued to be a major center for commerce and bridge between the Maghrib and the Sudan, long after the decline of al-Mansur's dynasty and the end of the Askias of Gao. However, even the Askias survived in a fashion, since a branch of them became close allies with the Arma regime. And while the authority of the Pashalik was later limited to Timbuktu, Djenne, Gao and other areas of the Niger Bend, and often became reduced to a ceremonial power of investiture for Tuareg chiefs who could sometimes attack or pillage the area with impunity, the Pashas continued to be the recognized authority of Timbuktu and a major power until the rise of Macina. Intriguingly, Abitbol believed the Arma, who became acclimatized and, later on, developing dominant families who dominated the position of pasha, despite the usually short tenures, were not a class per se. Instead, they were a leadership elite of essentially military origin and function. However, their alliance with the sharifs, ulama, merchants, Askias, and ownership of large numbers of slaves (who sometimes worked the land they owned) and dependents or haratins suggest something on the nature of a class society. The rather large corpus of sources used by Abitbol also suggests Timbuktu's importance in trans-Saharan trade retained its significance, too, surpassing in overall value the exports of other areas of the Sudan to North Africa. Clearly, there was a basis for great wealth accumulation and, in one case, a Pasha who even endeavored to emulate the great emperors of Mali and Songhay, possibly with the intention of recreating their grandeur for the Pashalik.

Cissoko, Timbuktu, and the Songhay Empire

Sékéné Mody Cissoko's Tombouctou et l'empire Songhay is a fascinating yet problematic work. Originally published in the 1970s, and by an author who accepted the theories of Cheikh Anta Diop and believed in the need of connecting postcolonial African nation-states to their precolonial past, the Songhay Empire is presented as the apogee of Western Sudanese civilization. We are led to believe or accept a number of premises, including that the Songhay state was a modernizing one and that the pyramidal character of buildings and mosque construction in the region may be a reflection of connections with Ancient Egypt. Cissoko also asserts that the level of learning at Timbuktu was comparable to a university, despite his acknowledgement that the city lacked the madrasas characteristic of Egypt or the Maghreb and the decentralized nature of instruction which emphasized Islamic religious education or law. In addition, Timbuktu, as the intellectual and economic capital of the vast Sudanese empire, characterized the Islamic influence that was largely marginal or absent in the South and east of the Empire. Indeed, Cissoko's work reflects this dichotomous view of Songhay civilization as one torn between the "high" Islamic culture and literacy of the towns and western provinces versus the found of traditional beliefs and religions in areas like Dendi. In fact, Sonni Ali's infamous relations with the ulama of Timbuktu is presented as an example of anticlericalism while the Sonni were and are associated with magic or sorcery in the "traditional" Songhay culture. 

Despite it's flaws, perhaps Cissoko's synthesis is worthwhile as a testament to the methodology and value postcolonial African historians practiced with regard to the Western Sudan. Cissoko clearly sought to balance the usual written sources with oral traditions and ethnographic work based on his own work and that of scholars like Jean Rouch and Boubou Hama. While it was not especially successful in Cissoko's case, and perhaps he overstates the "clash" between "animist" traditional religion and Islam, Cissoko's study raises a number of relevant historical questions and contemporary dilemmas. For instance, is it true that the Songhay Empire, at its zenith under the Askias, created a modern state in which the rulership was independent and dissociated from the individual with a greater degree of political centralization? The evidence utilized by our author, mainly restricted to the Tarikhs, al-Maghili's responses to Askia Muhammad and Leo Africanus, do not suffice to adequately answer this question. Furthermore, if the masses of the population of Songhay were slaves, why was it not a slave society? Surely the lack of sufficient documentation makes the demographic analysis of Cissoko questionable, particularly in his high estimates for Timbuktu's population. 

Furthermore, one could ask if it is a fair portrayal of the bourgeoisie marchande in Cissoko's analysis? Was it true that they did not invest their profits locally into things like land, new enterprises, or industries that could have revolutionized the economy? If 16th century Songhay truly enjoyed such a prolonged period of commercial success and growth, is it fair to make Cissoko's generalization given our paucity of sources? One can see how Cissoko thought addressing that question would be rather relevant to 20th century postcolonial Malian or African readers of his work. As their postcolonial states sought economic growth or development with different models, perhaps Cissoko's critique of the alleged wastefulness of the Askias and Songhay elites had more to do with the modern political and economic elites in Mali. That said, Cissoko's study does offer a (dated) comprehensive overview of the Songhay Empire that raises a number of interesting questions. We shall endeavor to explore some of those questions with Michał Tymowski.

Deciphering Meroitic

Enjoying this lecture by Claude Rilly on the Meroitic language. While we don't agree with all of his theories and conclusions, we certainly hope scholars are on track to finally understand this ancient African language.

On the Sultans of Waday

Marie-Jose Tubiana's "Un document inédit sur les sultans du Wadday" is a useful article for anyone interested in the history of Waday. Consisting of 2 similar documents attributed to a Usman ibn Fodde or Uthman ibn Fodda, the translated source is a chronological list of the sultans of Waday. In addition to collating 2 versions of this source, one of which came from the sultan of Waday, Tubiana uses other sources to corroborate and comment on the list. Like the Diwan of Kanem-Borno, it's basically a list of the sultans with a few sentences describing what the said ruler accomplished or experienced during his reign. In addition, there is some confusion in the source as it incorrectly places Sabun into an earlier chronological moment in the history of Waday. 

Despite some of the obvious problems of the source, it's chronology seems to be generally accurate. Like, perhaps, the Diwan of Kanem-Borno, there may be some mystical value to certain numbers attached to reign lengths (66, for instance, was special in this source) and the earlier kings appear to have existed in a more "mythical" context. Sadly, what actually transpired between Abd el-Karim and the Tundjur kings who ruled previously is not entirely clear. One is still unsure about Abd el-Karim's connection to Bidderi in Bagirmi, too. All one can say is that Abd el-Karim probably reigned sometime in the first half of the 17th century and he was a propagator of the Islamic faith. Subsequent rulers are also mentioned but it is mainly only beginning with Sabun in the early 19th century are the events of Waday's political history better known. The wealth of sources for the 19th century allows for more corroboration and detail on the kings of Wadai, while the events of the years prior to Sabun can only be glimpsed with occasional references to the Tunjur, Darfur or the larger Central Sudan. Indeed, even the origins of Abd el-Karim are unclear as some source ssuggest roots in the modern-day Sudan while other traditions, such as those reported by Barth and Nachtigal, suggest some kind of connection to the Islamic settlement of Bidderi and a Muslim movement against the pagan Tunjur. 

Interestingly, some later research suggests some degree of Islamic observance among the Tunjur. In fact, the Tunjur rulers were remembered by Arab names, including the final one, a Dawud, who was overthrown or replaced by Abd el-Karim. In addition, O'Fahey cited evidence of a Tunjur king from the region of Darfur and Wadai who was reported in Muslim sources. To what degree Abd el-Karim was the first Muslim ruler in what became Waday is difficult to say, but the realities of Tunjur, Kanem, and Bornoan influences in the region suggest Islam may have had some influence in Waday before the 17th century. Later Borno influences and conflict with Borno, Darfur, Bagirmi, Rabeh, the Mahdists in Sudan, and, finally, the French, continued to shape Waday's sultans while a number of contenders, dignitaries, and rival claimants for the throne frequently clashed. Furthermore, some Waday rulers clashed with their own dignitaries who resisted kings who became too powerful. This frequent instability and conflict over power helps explain why Waday could occasionally rise to a hegemonic status in the Central Sudan but very quickly, within a reign or two, suffer severe declines, population exoduses, plagues, and even do nothing while Rabeh ravaged tributary states like Dar Kuti, Dar Runga and Bagirmi.

Timbuktu's Patriciate

Elias Saad's Social History of Timbuktu: The Role of Muslim Scholars and Notables, 1400–1900 is an important study of the social tradition of the scholar-notable as a Timbuktu patriciate for about 500 years of urban history. This social tradition of scholar-notables helped define a recurring theme of autonomism in Timbuktu as scholars, through the judgeship and imamates, effectively administered the city through the long series of conquerors and states or empires that absorbed it. This rather unique position of Timbuktu and its renown as a center of Islamic learning makes it an interesting case study for understanding the Islamic city and its relationship with the Saharo-Sahelian and Sudanic contexts in which Timbuktu was intimately linked. 

Indeed, early Timbuktu, from the earliest chains of transmission still extant, was heavily indebted to southern Soninke and Malinke locations for its early Islamic scholars. Timbuktu's position as a site of prominence for Islamic scholarship in the Saharan, Sahelian and Sudanic regions was also based on the wealthiest families of different ethnic origins found the city to be a site where the pursuit of the acquisition of Islamic learning (especially jurisprudential learning) served an integrative function. This allowed Sanhaja, Arab, Soninke, Malinke, Songhai, Fulani, and others to come together in Timbuktu's early origins as a trading center. While not the only city in the Western Sudan to have an origin in a multiethnic trading center, in Timbuktu the goal of wealthy families, tailors, some craftsmen, and others to acquire literacy and gain the reputation of learned status, plus the ability of the wealthier families to produce renowned scholars, established Timbuktu as the city par excellence with scholar-notables as a patriciate. 

Saad seems to think the 'patriciate' of Timbuktu was defined by Islamic scholarship and the development of a social tradition that favored Timbuktu's autonomy throughout most of the period from c.1400-1900. While the Mali, Mossi, Magsharen Tuareg, Songhai, Ruma (Moroccan invasion force that integrated into society rather quickly), Kel Tadmekkat Tuareg, Kunta, and jihadist Hamdullahi states all claimed suzerainty over Timbuktu at various times in this 500 year period, the scholar-notables always dominated the city (at least in religio-legal spheres) and through the judgeship and the imamates of the main mosques actually administered the town. This appears to have been the case under Malian, Songhai and Ruma rule, attesting the longevity of this social tradition. One could conquer Timbuktu, but in the end the conquerors or invaders were integrated or accepted in some form or another this arrangement. One is not sure if any other city in the Western Sudan could be said to have encompassed a similar social history of a patriciate based on the scholars.

Civil War and Transition in the Kingdom of Kongo

After a brief attempt of reading it 12 years ago, we finally went back and finished The Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transition 1641-1718 by John K. Thornton. A short study based on his thesis, Thornton endeavors to elucidate a process of historical change in an African polity. Since the Kongo kingdom before the 2nd half of the 17th century was a centralized, town-centered polity in which Mbanza Kongo dominated a large territory, one must understand what led it to become a fragmented, decentralized state with a village-centered economy. Thornton, differing from other scholars, does not see the Portuguese in Angola as a primary or major factor at all in this development. Instead, the origin of the process was in the ability of Nsoyo to rise to prominence as a competing (and independent mbanza) which destabilized a centralized polity based on Mbanza Kongo. 

However, in order to understand exactly what transpired in Kongo from the reign of Garcia II to 1718, one must comprehend how the Kongo state operated before the civil wars of the post-Mbwila years. Thornton's thesis relies on an understanding of Kongo society, administration, economy and religion mainly drawn written sources. The changes in Kongo oral traditions already apparent in the 18th century, and those of the 20th century, reflect changes that may mislead researchers who rely too heavily on modern ethnographies or oral traditions to reconstruct the earlier past of Kongo. So, with that perspective and drawing on textual sources, Thornton develops a model of Kongo state and society. It was a society of nobility and powerful kings based in Mbanza Kongo, with the latter appointing provincial nobility to administer provinces that yielded taxes. The nobility and ruler, however, did not control production in the villages. Instead, peasant producers retained control of production and simply paid taxes to the state (and the kitomi and nkuluntu. In the mbanza, or towns, which were really overgrown villages, the aristocracy were able to control production through the use of slave labor. By concentrating large numbers of people in the mbanza and controlling production through the exploitation of slaves (who, were more akin to European serfs), the nobility were able to accumulate much larger surpluses than what the villages could provide. 

One mbanza, the royal capital, far surpassed all others and the dream of the Kongo nobility was to find a position in the capital where access to luxury goods and control of greater surpluses was possible. With the exception of Nsoyo, no other town in Kongo rivaled the capital. The Kongo order that was perhaps at its height during the reign of Garcia II, was able to thus impose a system that brought in revenue from taxes on villages and used the royal court to appoint, remove, and circulate nobility in various provinces. The nobility wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo and Kongo kings could use this central economic role of Mbanza Kongo to reward loyal and faithful dependents. The royal household and the nobility functioned as houses, comparable to those of medieval Europe. Competition within houses for the throne or for access to the spoils of power did, inevitably, occur. But the centralizing status and nature of Kongo as the economic, social and political capital ensured that even rivals to the throne or competitors wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo instead of eking an existence in the countryside with meager surplus or despoiled peasants.

In a sense, Hilton and Thornton have similar perspectives on how the decline of Mbanza Kongo and a centralized Kongo was related to economic concerns. It was not so much the Portuguese victory in 1665 that finally caused the decline of Kongo. Instead, it was the closer, internal threat represented by Nsoyo, an autonomous province with its own economically important mbanza and access to Atlantic trade, which revealed the changes on the horizon. Soon, after 1665, various contenders, often from the Kinlanzi and Kimpanzu houses, fought for decades for control of Mbanza Kongo. The capital was sacked during these civil wars and the nobility, dispersed into the rural provinces where chances for greater amounts of surplus to expropriate wealth were minimal, became permanently based in the rural areas and relied on the Kongo peasant producers (who retained control of production). While the civil wars created conditions in which some nobles could seize captives and sell them, or loot, none of the nobles were powerful enough to permanently seize Mbanza Kongo and restore a unified kingdom. Furthermore, Nsoyo interfered throughout the civil wars of the late 17th century, promoting rival claimants to the throne but never providing enough support for them to succeed. Indeed, a reunified Kongo would actually have posed a threat to Nsoyo, which preserved much of pre-civil war Kongo administrative structure and enjoyed prosperous trade links with the Dutch, Vili and others north of the Zaire. 

In the end, Kongo survived its period of civil wars to reemerge as a fragmented state by 1718. By this date, however, the king was a far weaker figure and the provincial nobility were mostly autonomous. Christianity remained important, especially for the nobility, and indeed religion played an important role in the later years of the civil wars during the Antonian movement. According to Thornton, Dona Beatriz's movement, which was popular and helped repopulate Mbanza Kongo, also sought to have her ritually install the next Kongo king, like the kitomi. Instead of some sort of anti-colonial movement, Dona Beatriz's movement wanted to restore a united Kongo while also demonstrating the ways in which Christianity had been so adapted and incorporated into Kongo cosmology. Ultimately, the Kongo that was restored in the 18th century was to forever lose the pattern of centralized authority with kings appointing nobility to provincial posts and with a large degree of control of production in mbanza based on slave labor.

Dahomey and Its Neighbors

Akinjogbin's Dahomey and Its Neighbors, 1708-1818 is one of the classic studies of the kingdom of Dahomey during a pivotal century in its development. Although Akinjogbin's Ebi theory of Yoruba and Aja polities appears to be untenable, or at least lacking sufficient evidence to be demonstrated fully, the rise of Dahomey as a major power in the Slave Coast region is certainly a topic worthy of analysis. Akinjogbin, who misleadingly presents early Dahomey and Agaja as opponents of the slave trade, or at least its destructive impact on Aja polities like Allada and Whydah in the 17th century, posits that Dahomey achieved an administrative revolution by replacing the Ebi theory for a more centralized, absolute monarchy in which the monarchy endeavored to control the slave trade. Indeed, Dahomey no longer resembled the Yoruba and Aja states of old and was better able to survive the 19th century than Oyo because of it.

However, in terms of economics, Dahomey became wedded to the slave trade and compromised the state's health. Factors in Europe, for instance, or the shifting interests of Oyo in terms of providing the supply of captives for export at Whydah, posed a number of problems for 18th century Dahomey kings. Oyo, under Abiodun, emphasizing Porto Novo as its primary port on the Atlantic, for example, contributed to the economic woes and depression of Dahomey. Dahomey was also not always effective at promoting Whydah as the major port on the Slave Coast. Competition from Badagry, Porto Novo and other ports, combined with the inability of Dahomey to defend Whydah from the old Whydah forces threatened the security of the port and its ability to attract Europeans. Dahomey was also, at least during the reign of Agaja's son, not effective at slave raiding. In short, Dahomey had to rely on Oyo to supply captives for export through Whydah and it had to rely on the vicissitudes of European and Atlantic World commerce and slaving. Some rulers, however, were progressive and thought of other ideas and practices, or even reviving agriculture to promote Dahomey's economy and end the long-lasting depression that began in the 1760s. By then, it was too late as the dependence on the slave trade remained the only option for Dahomey to retain access to Europe.

Despite the economic failings of 18th century Dahomey, Akinjogbin presents Aganja, Tegbesu, Kpengla, and Agonglo as visionary, progressive, rational and skilled leaders and administrators. Indeed, the survival of the Dahomey state during this century is impressive when one considers the weakness of the state militarily or its internal conflicts. In that sense, Oyo's overlordship may have paradoxically created the conditions for Dahomey to consolidate its administrative and economic basis after Agaja's rapid conquests of Allada and Whydah. Oyo and the Europeans on the coast could cause problems, but having Oyo provide some degree of security for its vassals and supplying slaves for export at Whydah, Dahomey's port, created favorable conditions for Dahomey to reestablish itself on a firm footing after 1740. To what extent Dahomey truly achieved a "revolution" can only be answered with deeper knowedge of Allada, Whydah, and Oyo as states.

Song for Ogun

A lovely tribute to Ogun, our orisha, from the legendary John Coltrane. Coltrane appears to have based his arrangement of the song on a version harmonized by a Brazilian composer and sung by Bidu Sayão. One can also find a Cuban group performing the song in 1957 with what appears to be different lyrics in Lucumi (Yoruba). Ogun arrives, chief of Ire. I vaguely recall once finding a recording of the same song (or a variation of it) from Dahomey (modern Benin) but was unable to locate it. Fortunately, Yoruba speakers have sought to enlighten us with the actual meaning of the song in its Cuban incarnations. 

King Solomon's Mines

Although Haggard was far from a great novelist, his King Solomon's Mines was published at the perfect time. The recent Western re-discovery of the ancient zimbabwe stone structures in southern Africa with concurrent racialized imperialist fantasies during an era of burgeoning British imperial expansion in southern Africa created a climate favorable for a popular romance eager to read stories of adventure in an unknown African interior. Adding an imperialist layer with the background of Solomon's legendary mines and legends of an ancient "white" race that erected fabulous ruins in the dark heart of Africa must have appealed to some British readers, who could see in themselves the rightful successors to the light-skinned invaders who once conquered the native population. There's even a thin layer of historical references to the Portuguese past presence in the region (the old Dom) and the return of a "white" race represented by the Anglo-Saxon. 

Haggard, however, awkwardly combines his racist fantasy with an admiration of the Zulu people, the model for the Kukuanas who ruled the area of King Solomon's Mines. Due to his own penchant for racialist theories of gallant Viking or Dane warriors and the type of masculinist culture of honor and military valor they supposedly represented, Haggard, or his narrator, Quartermain, seem to view the Zulu as a great native "race" of noble savages. However, as a savage "black" population, they are destined to fall under benevolent British rule. And if you think Haggard would actually go as far as including a consummated relationship between a black woman, Foulata (whose name might be a reference to the Fulani people of West Africa), and a white man, Good, you will be disappointed. Instead, black and white are never to cross. The races are presumably immutable and black and white too different, despite the expressed admiration of Haggard's three white protagonists for the Kukuanas. 

In his own way, Haggard seems to want the Kukuanas to be left alone, but surely the Anglo-Saxon "race" will extend their control over the noble Kukuana peoples. Quartermain, Henry and Good convince Umbopa to end some of the barbaric superstitions and violent traditions of the Kukuanas, and despite the Kukuana king's promise to resist any white encroachment, we all know what transpired in Rhodesia and the rest of the African continent. Quartermain and friends represent an earlier stage in the colonial relationship, one that sought to restrict execution without trial and eradicate the witch-hunting rituals. But like their Zulu model, the Kukuana will surely fall under direct British rule. 

Despite it's flaws in structure and prose, the novel must have been one of the influences on Pauline Hopkins. Hopkins, drawing from the Ethiopianist Christian tradition and focused on ancient Meroe, obviously held a differing view on race. In her novel, Reuel, the light-skinned African-American, returns and becomes king of an ancient, lost state modeled on Meroe and Biblical allusions. Unlike Umbopa, Haggard's noble savage, Hopkins endeavored to craft fully-fleshed out character, not just stereotypes. Moreover, the Ethiopianist and racial vindicationist tradition Hopkins drew from made Telassar an advanced civilization, not like the Kukuanas who merely inherited the chainmail and infrastructure left behind by an ancient white race. For Hopkins, Meroe and the idea of a Nubian origin of civilization was meant to inspire African Americans. So, Hopkins borrowed from the lost world type of literature Haggard excelled in to write a novel that would uplift black Americans and encourage them to see something positive in their African origin. The two authors perhaps share an uncomfortable emphasis on racial identity as a driving force to which all must ultimately embrace or suffer the consequences, although Reuel is of mixed-race ancestry. 

The Kingdom of Kongo

Anne Hilton's The Kingdom of Kongo offers a broad overview of the Kingdom of Kongo's rise and fall based on local adoption and adaptation of Christianity, Atlantic trade, and slavery in West Central Africa. Relying on, for the most part, written sources and some 20th century ethnographies, Hilton suggests the origins of Kongo lay in a redistributive economic system in which goods produced by distinct ecological zones of the Kongo state were exchanged. The mani kongo, or king, emerged sometime by the early 15th century as the dominant figure in this system, controlling the redistribution of local cloth, salt, nzimbu shells, and copper from beyond the borders of Kongo. The early state, however, was built on 3 distinct religious dimensions and different kinship structures, including matrilineal kanda and what later emerged as patrilineal groups based on descent from the daughters of Afonso I. 

However, the early Kongo state was relatively decentralized and the kings were eager to find new sources of legitimation. The mbumba, nkadi pmemba, and kitome dimensions were all important, but the Catholic cult and its association with the mani Kongo and aristocratic Mwissikongo aristocrats provided a religious or spiritual source of legitimacy that connected the kings with the cult of the ancestors and the sky spirits. While it is perhaps debateable to what extent this cosmovision really influenced the way Afonso I adopted Catholicism, Kongo was accepted as a Christian state by Europeans and adopted literacy, some Portuguese names, and even tried to buy or purchase European-styled ships. The kings of Kongo and the Mwissikongo supported the new religion, used literacy to enhance administration, accepted new crops from the Americas, and took advantage of the copper, slave, and nzimbu trades to expand Kongo's power in West Central Africa. Indeed, Kongo's cloth production was central to the currency and trade of the Portuguese colony of Luanda and Portuguese slave trading in the interior. 

Unfortunately for Kongo, however, Catholicism and the centralization achieved by Afonso, Diogo I and Kongo kings until the early decades of the 17th century was challenged by new developments. Sonyo, a province of Kongo, became increasingly independent and weakened Mbanza Kongo's economic importance through new trade routes with the Vili and others. Instead of the old Makoko-Mbanza and Luanda trade routes for slaves, ports like Mpinda and alternative slave routes developed that bypassed Kongo or did not rely on Kongo's cloth. In addition, Portuguese expansion of the Luanda colony and the seizure of the nzimbu-producing Kongo territory, as well as attacks on vassal states or chiefdoms of Kongo, further weakened Kongo. The Kongo kings were also not successful with establishing complete control of the Catholic Church, an institution which was central to the further legitimation of the rulers. The Portuguese refused, despite Afonso I's son serving as a bishop, allowing for an independent see of Mbanza Kongo and the clergy, prefects, and priests in Kongo were often dictated by or led by men based in Luanda. Even the Capuchins, who came to Kongo and were initially seized upon by Garcia II to strengthen his rule, eventually became more aligned with Luanda while criticizing the state of Christianity in the Kongolese provinces. Even the Dutch occupation of Luanda was a failure in the sense that Kongo did not eradicate the Portuguese presence and, in fact, was blamed for anti-Portuguese massacres. The enmity between Kongo and Luanda governors, who could also block envoys and letters from Kongo to the Pope or to Spain and Portugal, eventually led to the fateful battle of Mbwila.

The later centuries of Kongo cover its existence as a splintered or fragmented state, with autonomous provinces like Sonyo and warlods and competing lineage groups competing for the throne. Kongo Catholicism survived, even leading to a site of pilgrimage devoted to the Virgin Mary and the close relationship between Mwissikongo and the Christian cult. Kongo indigenous religion likewise continued, even experiencing a revival during the reign of Garcia II and that of his son due to Capuchin aggression Nonetheless, the Kongo of the 18th and 19th centuries was very different from the state system consolidated by Afonso I and his successors. While the Portuguese and the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade did not destroy Kongo, one can undoubtedly see how Atlantic trade was a double-edged sword that paved the way for Kongo centralization and decentralization. The main reason why Kongo, however, was not able to maintain its dominant position was related to its increasingly peripheral role in the main trade routes used for the slave trade and the decline of the mani Kongo's role in redistributing regional or international goods to his clients. The failure to establish a church under royal control further undermined the Kongo kings since one of the major ideological sources of their legitimacy was controlled by external actors not always acting in the interests of Kongo or its state. 

Lovejoy on Asante

Here is a short video on Asante by Paul Lovejoy, a historian who has studied the trade in kola nuts that connected Ghana with the Central Sudan. 

Ethiopia, Mughal India and the VOC

E.J. van Donzel's Foreign Relations of Ethiopia 1642-1700: Documents Relating to the Journeys of Khodja Murad contains translations of various primary source documents on an interesting figure in Ethiopia's diplomatic history. Said to have been an illiterate Armenian merchant from Aleppo, Khoja Murad served as an envoy for the Solomonic rulers of Ethiopia on a number of missions to Mughal India and the VOC in Batavia (Indonesia). Although, at least with regards to the VOC, trade of any significant scale between the powerful Dutch company and Ethiopia did not materialize, the documents, letters, and reports pertaining to Murad attest to the global presence of Solomonic Ethiopia in the Early Modern World. 

Indeed, despite relying, for the most part, on Ottoman-ruled Massawa for access to Red Sea and Indian Ocean trade, Fasiladas, Yohannes, and Iyasu I maintained or at least endeavored to send friendly missions to the powerful empires of Asia and the Mediterranean. Thus, the Ottomans, Persians, Mughals, and the VOC in Southeast Asia all received envoys from the Ethiopians at various moments in the 17th century. While the letters exchanged between the VOC and Ethiopia were vague and some of the Dutch sources questioned the authenticity of Murad or the likelihood of any profitable trade with the African kingdom, the letters illustrate a keen desire on the part of the Gondar kings to expand and sustain trading partnerships. In fact, despite the expulsion of the Jesuits and Roman Catholics, the rulers were not opposed to Protestant Europeans and were willing to promote trade with Muslim powers and neighbors. As revealed by the account of al-Haymi's mission from Yemen to Fasilides, the negus was hoping to promote Red Sea trade through the port of Baylul. Unfortunately, it did not succeed. This failure to develop trade on a large scale at that port meant that Massawa remained the main port of entry for Ethiopian access to Asian goods. While Zeila was later promoted to the Dutch as another possible port, the danger of Oromo groups on the way to the Ethiopian highlands and the necessity of requiring the permission of the imam of Mokha posed additional problems. Thus, the Solomonic dynasty had to rely on Massawa. Fortunately for the Ethiopians, the Ottoman pasha of Massawa was dependent on Ethiopian goodwill for food and water. In addition, Fasilides, his son, and his grandson also relied on the Ottoman officials in Massawa to help police the movement of Catholic Europeans into the kingdom. Nonetheless, the lack of direct access to the Red Sea at a viable port created complications for large-scale VOC trade in the region.

Despite this "failure" of Khoja Murad's voyages to Batavia, the sources translated in van Donzel's account allude to numerous aspects of Ethiopia's relations with the broader Red Sea and Indian Ocean worlds. With Mughal India, for instance, the sorry state of Murad's party when they finally met with Aurangzeb may have been saved by the depredations of Shivadji. Subsequent to their audience with Aurangzeb, Murad's Abyssinian mission received the equivalent of 20,000 francs of rupees from the Mughal ruler, which was later spent on Indian goods to bring back to Ethiopia at a profit. This episode reveals how Murad combined diplomacy and business while also illustrating how the Mughal ruler basically saw the gift to the Abyssinians as another way of promoting his economy. Since the Ethiopians used the funds to purchase Indian goods, it was another way for the Mughal ruler to boost his economy. As for the question of the Mughal ruler asking for Fasilides to rebuild a mosque in or near Gondar, perhaps this was just another element of the flexibility Abyssinian rulers (and their envoys) adopted in order to maintain profitable relations with Muslim powers. 

Other documents translated from Dutch, Arabic, and, in one case, Armenian, similarly shed light on Ethiopia during the second half of the 17th century. For instance, the Gongo region's population were said to be descendants of Hindustani Rajputs. The attempted coup against Iyasu, which involved his mother, was also reported. The Funj Sultanate, ruled from Sennar, was still reported to be a vassal province of the Christian Solomonic state. Furthermore, the identity of the Armenian bishop who traveled to Ethiopia during the reign of Yohannes is reported. Probably Hovannes Tutundju, who had traveled to Istanbul, Italy and Egypt, his account of Ethiopia, despite its brevity, provides another perspective on Gondar. One also wonders if the Ethiopians had developed a coffee industry in the 18th century, would they have been able to attract greater Dutch (and English) interest in trade? And if Iyasu had succeeded in somehow establishing relations with France or another Catholic European power, in spite of the opposition of the Ethiopian clergy, would the course of 18th century Ethiopian history have been quite different?

Chronicles from Gonja

Chronicles from Gonja collects and translates several Arabic manuscripts of a historical nature from kingdom of Gonja. Founded sometime in the mid-16th century by a warrior from the Mali Empire, Gonja was later made a tributary of the Asante Empire. However, the longstanding ties of trade in gold, kola nuts, textiles, and other goods had connected northern Ghana with the Western Sudan region since the Middle Ages. Even before the foundation of Gonja as a conquest state, Wangara merchants had already been active in the region. After its establishment, the warrior "estate" then established a close alliance with the Wangara and Islamic scholars. Later, Asante expansion northward in the 18th century began to encroach upon Gonja, eventually reducing it to a vassal state. Nonetheless, Gonja's literate Muslims were active in Kumase, writing charms, serving as advisors, and recording chronicles, letters, and prayers. 

The texts translated by Levtzion and commented upon by Ivor Wilks and Bruce Haight mainly date from the 18th and 19th centuries. The more substantial ones, such as the Tarikh Ghinja and the Kitab Ghanja, essentially present the history of Gonja's rulers from its origins in the 16th century to the second half of the 18th century. One even adopts the typical form of annals of the style of Islamic historiography. Nonetheless, many of the texts translated here reflect low standards of literacy or fluency in the Arabic tongue. Perhaps the scarcity of paper or the lower state of scholars who produced copies of older manuscripts is to blame here. Despite these aforementioned problems, and issues of copyists incorrectly replacing Bighu with Segu or confusing the names of Gonja sultans, the texts do provide a wealth of information on the region of northern Ghana and surrounding areas. 

The Wangara and/or Malinke elements were a bridge who linked the Akan peoples to the south with the Western Sudan, trans-Saharan trade, and, undoubtedly, with the Hausa trade in kola nuts. Indeed, sources such as the Wangara Chronicle indicate how influential Muslim Malinke traders were in Hausaland, just as their presence in Gonja was inextricably linked to Gonja's ruling estate, the Ngbanya. So, in a sense, the Wangara were a bridge connecting areas like Gonja and Dagomba with the Western and Central Sudan. Indeed, a rare reference to a man of Borno in Kafaba in the Tarikh Ghunja, if reliable, indicates a Borno presence in this region early in Gonja's existence. In addition, an allusion to the death of a Gonja pilgrim in a village of Katsina, while returning from Mecca, testifies to another dimension of Gonja's ties to the Central Sudan. Instead of, say, taking a pilgrimage route that went to the Middle Niger Valley and then crossed the Sahara, this pilgrim, at least on his return trip, traveled through Hausaland. Thus, in our eyes, the northern region of Ghana offer an intriguing case of a region with close ties to both the Western and Central Sudan, contributing to the formation of trading diasporas linked by gold, kola nuts, and Islam. 

The Goddess Isis

Although it has been a few years since we have read Apuleius, we found Religion for Breakfast's videon on the spread of the cult of Isis in the Roman Empire to be fascinating. And though not mentioned here, the cult of Isis was also important in Kush. To what extent was the cult of Isis and the glimpses of it available in Apuleius's novel representative for Isis worship in Kush or Meroe?

Asante and Its Neighbors

J.K. Fynn's brief Asante and Its Neighbors, 1700-1807 seeks to elucidate the rise of Asante under Osei Tutu to its position as the predominant power of the Gold Coast by the early 1800s. While mainly relying on records of the European trading posts and forts on the coast and occasional oral or ethnographic evidence, Fynn's narrative account appears to follow an accurate chronology of Asentehenes also used by scholars like Wilks. The Asante, who were little known to the Europeans in the late 17th century, were able to seize upon the opportunities of greater trade and access to firearms to pursue political and economic expansion. The "northern factor" was also relevant for the trade in gold, ivory, kola nuts, textiles, and slaves with markets in the Sudanic land and trans-Saharan networks. However, access to firearms gave an advantage to the Asante against the militaries of the Dagomba, Gonja, and others. However, Asante access to the coast was hindered by the Fanti and, at various times, by other polities of the Gold Coast. Thus, the history of 18th century Asante, according to Fynn, is, to a large part, the tale of Asante expansion to the south, subjugation of other polities as tributaries, and the eventual establishment of Asante control of the southern ports in the early decades of the 19th century. Unfortunately for them, however, the British commitment to anti-slave trade measures became a problem just as the Asante achieved more complete, unhindered access to the coast.

Part of the problem of the Asante state in the 18th century was the failure of Osei Tutu, who, despite his excellence as the founder of the state who bequeathed a number of customs and practices to foster unity, to develop a more effective administrative system for ruling conquered peoples. Opoku Ware, his successor, attempted reforms that were later blocked by provincial rulers. This, plus ongoing revolts, internal discord, and struggles with the vassals made it difficult for Asante to emerge as the hegemon of the region until closer to the end of the period under examination. Fortunately, later rulers, like Osei Kwadwo, were able to accomplish administrative reforms with a bureaucracy that improved imperial administration. The Asante rulers may have also relied heavily on access to northern markets (and captives, such as the "Duncoes" and their Akwamu allies to still receive firearms, trade goods, and find areas for political expansion. Asante's conquest of Gonja and Dagomba, for instance, must have assisted with these aims as Asante expansion to the coast was hindered by the Fanti or tributary states in rebellion. The northern factor, therefore, must have remained of great political, military and economic significance while the Atlantic trade with European was ultimately the source for the Asante's expansion through access to muskets and gunpowder. Trying to understand this dynamic role of northern trade and Atlantic trade in the fortune of West African states like Asante and Oyo seems especially relevant, even though Asante did not rely on cavalry supplied by horse imports from northern trade.

Of interest for our purposes is Fynn's comments on the "Dunko" or "Dunkoes" sold into slavery from the Gold Coast. According to sources cited by Fynn, the word "Donko" meant slave. In addition, the Dunkos often had tribal marks on their faces and were often associated with northern territories like Dagomba, Mossi, Frafraf and others. We know from the Arabic chronicles of northern Ghana and contemporary Europeans at the coast that the Asante were active in north in the 1740s and again in the 1770s and subsequent decades. Indeed, a revolt against the Asante in 1780-1781 was likely one of the Dagomba, referred to as Duncoes. The Dunkos of Saint Domingue, or colonial Haiti, were therefore a mix of people from what is now northern Ghana and surrounding areas. Some of these Dunkoes or Dokos were also maroons of Le Maniel. If some of them were natives of Dagomba, then perhaps there may even have been an Islamic presence among the Duncoes in Saint Domingue. 

Revisiting Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert

Due to a rekindled interest in the history of Sufism in Kanem and Borno, we decided to revisit H.T. Norris's Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert. Largely consisting of a translation of the Qudwa (at least part of it likely written in the late 17th century or certainly before the 1800s) with commentary and additional contextual information on Sidi Mahmud al-Baghdadi and the question of Sufism in the region of Air, the study is of great potential importance for understanding how Sufism functioned in the Sahel and Central Sudan. While Sufism in, say, Kanem-Borno, was undoubtedly of greater antiquity than the appearance of Sidi Mahmud in the Air region in the first half of the 16th century, various sources connect the Mahmudiyya with later Islamic scholars, holymen, and mystics in the Central Sudan. For instance, Shehu Uthman dan Fodio, was initiated into Sufism with a silsila that linked to Sidi Mahmud. In addition, Uthman dan Fodio lived for some time in Agadez and was undeniably exposed to those who followed in or were influenced by the "Way" of Sidi Mahmud. Furthermore, Muhammad Bello, whose writings on Air and Mahmud al-Baghdadi bear an uncanny resemblance to the Qudwa, also revered the memory of this Sufi mystic. Moreover, North African sources similarly attest to the far-ranging contacts and influences of the Mahmudiyya and Air Sufism. Shaykh Ahmad al-Yamani, a native of the modern Sudan, visited Air after spending time in Kalumbardo, a Sufi settlement in Borno. According to al-Yamani, who reported on Kalumbardo and the Mahmudiyya in Morocco, reputation of Sufis like Shaykh Ahmad al-Sadiq b. al-Shaykh Uwayis al-Lamtuni was of the highest standing. 

What is particularly useful for our interests, with regard to the Mahmudiyya, is their possible influence on or shared characteristics with Kalumbardo. While Norris suggests Sidi Mahmud had links to Anatolia and the Muslim East in his approach to Sufism, the Qudwa mentions, with some detail, the practices of dhikr, wird, khalwa, discipline, fasting, ritual ablutions, meditation and group prayer and states of ecstasty achieved by members via prayer. Mahmud did not reject fiqh, either, since he saw the need for both fiqh and gnostic, mystical knowledge. However, his pursuit of ma'rifa and importance of his status as a sharif may have been more unique traits of his particular moment, perhaps including the prohibition on taking the lives of animals during retreats, too. According to the Qudwa, the sultan of Agades had Sidi Mahmud executed after jealous jurists convinced him that the Sufi leader posed a threat to his throne. Only after the fact did the Agades Sultan, Ahmad b. Tilzay, discover that Mahmud truly was an ascetic Sufi and sharif. The tale of his martyrdom has not been corroborated by other sources, although writing by Ahmad Baba from the early 1600s suggests that the Mahmudiyya were heretical mytics who believed that the only "Way" was through their own, rejecting some of the main tenets of the Islamic faith.

The Koyam Sufis and ascetics, descendants of the Kalumbardo community dispersed after a Tuareg attack eradicated Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi's community, represent an interesting tradition of Islamic mysticism in the Central Sudan. According to Norris, their prayer rituals resemble those of the Mahmudiyya. Moreover, evidence from the Nashr al-Mathani points to contacts between Kalumbardo and the Air mystics. Further, some of the early followers of Sidi Mahmud were Hausa and Fulani, and Tuareg were also known at Kalumbardo. To what extent the Kalumbardo community of Abdallah al-Burnawi was directly linked to the first settlement associated with a Tuareg, al-Jarmiyu, and a Fulani, Waldede, is muddled in Muhammad Bello's account. However, the earlier Kalumbardo community was destroyed by Umar b. Idris of Borno, who had al-Jarmiyu executed while Waldede fled to Bagirmi. If the community led by Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi was following similar Sufi practices yet met favor with Ali b. Umar of Borno, then the asceticism and mysticism of the second Kalumbardo community was perhaps similar to that practiced in Air by the Mahmudiyya. 

What is truly amazing then is the vast network of Sufism and its political impact in the Central Sudan. For example, the founder of the Wadai sultanate, said to have studied in Borno and Baghirmi, may have been influenced by Kalumbardo through the Bagirmi center of Bidderi, which included Fulani with ties to the early Kalumbardo settlement suppressed by Umar b. Idris. Shehu al-Kanemi was also said to have had ties to the Koyam, the descendants of the Kalumbardo community led by Abdallah al-Burnawi. Likewise, subsequent Koyam shaykhs, descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi, were also connected with the Sayfawa dynasty and protecting the frontier of Borno. Of course, ongoing links to Air and Hausaland were also ongoing, providing a possible additional influence on the spread of Sufism in the Hausa kingdoms. While the origins of Sufism in Kanem-Borno surely predate the 16th and 17th centuries, the Mahmudiyya provide a window into how one community may have functioned for centuries in the area. Remarkably, the descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi persisted into the 20th century, proving themselves to be long-lasting and effective at forging a long-lasting relationship with the Sayfawa. 

Sirat al-Habasha

E.J. van Donzel's translation of A Yemenite Embassy to Ethiopia 1647-1694: Al-Haymi's Sirat Al- Habasha is an interesting account by a Yemeni traveler to the court of Fasiladas in the 1640s. Although the Yemeni envoy failed since Fasiladas was not actually interested in converting to Islam, his brief account, too vague in some parts, adds another perspective on the diplomatic policy of the Ethiopian ruler (as well as the intrigue and conflict within the royal court). The Ethiopian emperor was only interested in improving the security of the route to the Red Sea port of Baylul, believing that closer relations with Yemen and a regular exchange of envoys would attract more merchants (the Yemeni envoys traveled with soldiers, and the improvement of security along the route could have made Ethiopia less dependent upon Turkish-ruled Massawa. However, the insecurity caused by the Oromo near the route, plus its desolate, desert conditions, inhibited the development of trade via Baylul. Indeed, as explained by van Donzel, the Yemeni imam's success in defeating the Ottoman Turks was likely another reason why Fasiladas was interested in closer relations. Unfortunately, for al-Haymi and the ruler of Yemen, Fasiladas was only interested in trade, and even the hint of a possible conversion sparked opposition from members of the court in Gondar.

Despite the failure of Fasiladas to establish closer ties and increase the significance of the Baylul for Red Sea trade, al-Haymi's account suggests other areas in which the negus was successful. For instance, he was able to neutralize an abuna who was perceived as too powerful (and corrupt), imprisoning him on an island in Lake Tana. His brother, called Claudius by Lobo, was also imprisoned due to the threat of his military leadership. In fact, Fasiladas's full brother was also supposedly sympathetic to the Jesuits and Catholics. Of course, al-Haymi, who saw Fasiladas's leadership fail in instances like the arson committed against his lodgings on more than one occasion or in the way some officials ignored their orders to protect the Yemeni envoys on their return, had a more negative perspective. To him, Fasiladas was said to have been a drunk and unaware of the occurrences in the provinces due to his conniving ministers (who were also accused of corruption, bribery, and oppression). Nonetheless, the ruler was able to establish a royal capital with an impressive royal castle, supposedly built by an Indian. In addition, the royal court was splendidly attired, showing the ostentation and lavish consumption of the Ethiopian elite. Surely these demonstrate the power of the Ethiopian rulers in terms of acquiring luxury goods and the capacity of the Gondar rulers to built monumental architecture. Fasiladas was also able to eliminate possible threats to the throne and avoid plunging the kingdom into further religious conflict or divisions. Furthermore, Fasiladas was able to convert many of the Falasha to Christianity, albeit through violent means. 

In other respects, al-Haymi's account also provides some account of Ethiopia's religious diversity and cosmopolitanism. The Indian architect of the royal castle was said to have built it in an Indian style. The Ethiopian elite used luxury goods like mattresses and silks imported from distant lands, such as India and the Middle East or swords from Sinnar. The Arabic interpreter for the king was a sharif who converted to Christianity and may have come from Bukhara in Central Asia. Even al-Haymi, who lamented the lack of intellectual accomplishment among most Christians, found inquisitive minds among some Christians and Muslims in Gondar. Despite Christian hostility to any local conversion to Islam and the alleged ignorance of the monks, Solomonic Ethiopia under Fasiladas was a cosmopolitan place and well-connected to other powers of the region and beyond. 

Ethiopia and Alexandria

Stuart C. Munro-Hay's Ethiopia and Alexandria: The Metropolitan Episcopacy of Ethiopia is perhaps somewhat dated but an interesting read. Focusing on relations between the Patriarchate of Alexandria and the Aksumite (then the Zagwe and Solomonic Dynasties) kingdom from Frumentius in the 4th century to Amda Tseyon in the 14th century, Munro-Hay's study illustrates how important our sources on the Patriarchs of Alexandria are for reconstructing Ethiopian (and Nubian) history. While much of the period covered in this book are well-trod and familiar to anyone interested in Aksumite and medieval Ethiopian history, the emphasis on Alexandria's connection to Abyssinia provides a different focus for one of the remarkable relationships of Christian history. Indeed, the very relocation of the Patriarchate of Alexandria to Cairo was, in part, motivated by the easier communication with Nubia and Ethiopia. Moreover, the chronicles and other Coptic, Syriac, Arabic, Greek and Ge'ez sources highlight the international role of the patriarchs as a major force in Egyptian relations with Nubia and Ethiopia during after the Muslim conquest of Egypt. 

Unfortunately, some of the gaps in our knowledge of the later centuries of the Aksumite king and the paucity of clear data and chronologies on the transition from the Aksumite rulers to the Zagwe dynasy are not clarified by the familiar sources on the Coptic Church. Nonetheless, the sources on the patriarchs, the metropolitans they appointed for Ethiopia, and correspondence between Egyptian and Abyssinian rulers do seem to confirm the chronology of the Zagwe dynasty favored by Munro-Hay. Nonetheless,Munro-Hay had to rely on speculation for some of the possible omissions of metropolitans in Ethiopia, the melkite and Jacobite metropolitans, and the legends of Gudit, late Aksumite kings lists, and Ethiopian relations with the Nubian kingdoms. Indeed, it is the relatively unknown nature of relations between the Nubian statea of Makuria and Alwa with Abyssinia that are most interesting. 

While Solomonic rulers like Yekuno Amlak and his son corresponded with the Mamluk sultans of Egypt via a Yemeni ruler as an intermediary, the land route to Egypt, via the Nubians, was an important route. Numerous envoys, metropolitans, and traders traveled through the route, but Nubian-Ethiopian relations are sadly still a topic of conjecture. Makuria and Alwa were also in the position of having local bishops or metropolitans, with the confirmation by the patriarch in Egypt. Surely, one would think Aksumite and later Ethiopian rulers would have also attempted to force the Coptic Church to recognize local metropolitans, too. Yet despite this, the Ethiopian rulers remained dependent on Alexandria to appoint metropolitans who, in turn, ensured local bishops and clergy could be created. In fact, Nubia appeared. to have played a supportive role in helping Abyssinia regain the favor of Alexandria while both Northeast African Christian regions also saw themselves as supporters of the Christian communities of Egypt. In fact, a perhaps large number of Copts even fled to Nubia and Ethiopia to escape Muslim persecutions