The Sultanate of Mali

Hadrien Collet's Le sultanat du Mali - Histoire régressive d'un empire médiéval XXIe-XIVe siècle is a challenging read. Very academic and interested in avoiding literalist readings of oral traditions or Arabic sources, the focus of this regressive history is an emphasis on the historiography of Mali. This historiography reveals discursive practices of various generations of historians who wrote about the past of Mali, from Mamluk-era scholars like al-Umari to the post-medieval historians and chroniclers of the Timbuktu tarikh tradition or colonial and post colonial academics and scholars. By highlighting the historiographical turn, Collet's study endeavors to understand the ideological, literary, and other contexts of the key texts utilized as sources to construct a narrative of the "imperial" era in the Western Sudan. Likewise, a rereading of Arabic sources and a desire to place them in their context reveals how al-Umari, Ibn Battuta, and others from the Muslim world conceived of Mali in terms of Islamic geography, science, literature, and geopolitics. By attempting to understand the larger context for our external sources on Mali, instead of relying on extracts that divorce these sources from their larger context, one can gain new insights into the origin and meaning of the relevant writings. Collet's text particularly does this with regard to al-Umari's encyclopedic chapter on Mali and the Rihla of Ibn Battta. Surprisingly, Ibn Khaldun, who provides some of the richest information on Mali in the external sources, does not receive a chapter.

The choice of beginning with the colonial-era scholarship of the likes of a Delafosse and orientalists like Cooley to the nationalist scholarship of Mamby Sidibe or the post colonial age of scholarship from the likes of D.T. Niane and Cheikh Anta Diop, makes it easier to see for the reader how the narrative of the "Mali Empire" developed and became an established historical "fact" in academic, Afrocentric and online discourse. However, a deeper analysis of the ways in which this narrative was established by scholars and academics in the 19th and 20th centuries reveals a number of problems and concerns. Since we have not examined some of the scholarship analyzed here, particularly the works of Monteil or the Malian and Guinean publications of the post colonial era, we nonetheless find a problem with the colonialist, nationalist, Afrocentric, and interpretative lens used by these scholars. The colonial-era ones, for instance, like Delafosse, did not always cite their oral sources clearly and later scholars adopted a sometimes uncritical use of oral traditions, treating the griots as "neutral" reservoirs of "raw facts" or data that can be used to supplement the meager external Arabic sources for the medieval sultanate of Mali. In reality, however, these oral traditions as preserved by griots are not frozen in time but adaptable to new conditions and meanings to retain their relevance. In other words, scholars may have rushed to historicize figures like Sundiata while also promoting the narrative of a precociously modern "constitution" for the state established by this figure. 

In short, scholars must use oral traditions as carefully as written sources, and in so doing will similarly recognize the agency and creativity of griots as historians. This type of analysis will potentially elucidate or bring us closer to answering the questions of past generations of specialists and scholars. For instance, using oral traditions and archaeological data critically to rethink the location of the capital of the Mali sultanate. Instead of looking to Niani, the discredited imperial capital promoted by colonial scholars and Niane, the capital of the sultanate may have been further north and not in the Manden heartland as we know it today. Likewise, the collection of oral traditions in different parts of Manden and trying to analyze how they reflect post-"imperial" Mali conditions after the loss of their northern territories (Djenne, Walata, Timbuktu, etc.) highlights the "living" nature or conditions of oral traditions.

The next section analyzes post-medieval West African historians in an intriguing manner. Building on the model of historian Paulo Fernando de Moreas Farias and Mauro Nobili, the famous tarikhs of Timbuktu are seen in a new light. In addition, 19th century Islamic scholars such as Muhammad Bello of Sokoto and the chronicles and writings of Muslim scholars from Walata and the Hamdullahi caliphate. By treating the authors of texts as historian colleagues, one can begin to see how their construction of Mali and the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa functioned to express an Islamic West African conception of the region's past. Takrur, for example, is redefined by these authors in ways that clearly deviate from the historical kingdom of Takrur or the use of the term by Mamluk scholars in the East. Mansa Musa and his wondrous pilgrimage, the sponsorship of mosques, and the honor he accorded to the ulama represent a model of leadership. Like the future Askia Muhammad's function in the chronicles, Mansa Musa therefore served as an exemplary Islamic ruler who also helped establish Takrur as a Muslim geographic space. Although our 17th century chroniclers al-Sa'adi and Ibn Muhtar appear to have largely relied on oral traditions for Mali and a few external Arabic sources, their anecdotes, stories, and traditions on the Middle Niger's past under Malian suzerainty indicate the enduring memory and legacy of the kingdom. Even when in conflict with Songhay, the Islamic sultanate Collet suggests may be conceived as "modern" or "early modern" rather than medieval, Mali and the memory of Mansa Musa suggest it retained its power and legacy as an Islamic state. 

The final chapters analyzing the major external Arabic sources (al-Umari, Ibn Battuta) and the Mamluk-era writings on the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa, present, perhaps, the denouement of the historiographical and hermeneutical turn embodied in this work. These sources, written in the time of the Mali sultanate's zenith or soon after, reflect the power and reputation attained by the West African state after Mansa Musa's pilgrimage impressed Mamluk Cairo in 1325. Collet's reading of al-Umari and Ibn Battuta exemplifies this well, as both authors receive detailed treatment in terms of their backgrounds, their writings beyond the well-known extracts on Mali, and the literary and intellectual concerns and styles of their respective genres. Seeing Ibn Battuta and Ibn Guzzay's co-produced narrative as literary does not mean the voyage to the Sudan never happened (although it is possible Ibn Battuta never went beyond Walata). Indeed, following literary conventions and seeing the topology of the genre of travel writings that situated the Sudan (Black Africa) and the Far East as distinct zones bordering the unknown lands. The notion of "marvels" used here, particularly in the chapter on Ibn Battuta, was fascinating and points to, in our opinion, the overall veracity of Ibn Battuta's account of Mali. While undoubtedly drawing on a larger corpus of literature on the "Land of the Blacks" in Arabic literature, the local customs and "exoticisms" described in the text are sometimes unique and, if not directly witnessed by Ibn Battuta himself, were based on first-hand accounts. Like al-Umari, who also occasionally drew from the larger context of Arabic literary conventions and geography on sub-Saharan Africa, Ibn Battuta's story of cannibals to the south of Mali and other "marvels" demonstrates the literary nature of the source. That insight, however, does not mean the journey to Mali never occurred. It actually offers a new perspective that can raise new questions and conclusions about the nature of Mali during the 14th century. 

Sadly, Ibn Khaldun's detailed analysis of Mali does not have a separate chapter in Collet's detailed book. It is a shame, since Ibn Khaldun's use of a "Takruri" informant from Ghana indicates the presence of an account drawing on a different regime of truth. Indeed, the Takruri faqih in Cairo may represent a late 14th century West African perspective on Mali, drawing on "fresh" traditions and possibly written sources for his reconstruction of the chronology of mansas. Uthman, this Ghana faqih interpreted via Ibn Khaldun, represents, besides Mansa Musa himself in the reports on the pilgrimage, the closest thing to a contemporary "internal" voice on the sultanate. It would have been interesting to read Collet's breakdown of Ibn Khaldun and his larger sociopolitical theory of history in this context, as well as an early local/West African history of Mali. Otherwise, al-Umari largely relied on al-Dukkali, who is said to have lived in Mali's capital for several years, or the filtered accounts of what Mansa Musa was reported to have said to Mamluk officials during his Egyptian sojourn. Even if Ibn Khaldun's account is not particularly reliable, the use of Takruri informants who were contemporaries of 14th century Mali merits further investigation. 

Ghana Kingdom

It's always a delight to find serious or semi-serious people creating online videos or posting articles about the ancient kingdom of Ghana. Of course, it would be even better if an academic like Bathily or perhaps Soninke-speaking historians were posting this type of content in French or English. If they, like Bathily, could draw on their knowledge of the Soninke language and Soninke oral traditions and ethnographies, I believe we could get a bit closer to what Ghana actually was like.

Contribution to the History of the Mali Empire

Madina Ly Tall's Contribution à l'histoire de l'Empire du Mali, (XIIIe-XVIe siècles) : limites, principales provinces, institutions politiques is by now a dated yet provocative interpretation of the Mali Empire. Pushing back against earlier authors like Delafosse who believed Mali disintegrated into irrelevance by the early decades of the 15th century, Ly Tall uses Portuguese sources and oral traditions to demonstrate the power and economic importance of Mali in 15th and 16th century gold trade, especially through its control of the Gambia for access to coastal trade. The Malian historian also utilized the usual Arabic sources (medieval external Arabic ones like that of al-Umari or Ibn Khaldun and the later chronicles like the Tarikh al-Fattash) and oral traditions recorded in earlier sources or from her own fieldwork. Thus, through an impressive use of nearly all types of sources (including the limited archaeological work in Mali and the site of Niani), the author presents a plausible Mali Empire through its provincial organization and administrative structure.

More than half of the text consists of short chapters on the various provinces of Mali that can be identified with a combination of textual and oral sources. These major provinces are then elucidated in terms of their possible importance in the Mali Empire and how they were lost to the center. Here is where the author is willing to push back against previous scholarship with regards to the eastern extent of Mali. During its apogee in the 14th century, Ly Tall believes the emperor did indeed include Tadmekka and Takedda, despite other historians disputing the problematic Arabic sources on the matter. Of course, due to the paucity of sources, it is possible that these eastern possessions were lost after a short period of time. Ly Tall also makes a problematic case for Kukia possibly remaining under Mali control well into the 15th century. This is based, in part, on the problematic references to a "Quioquia" in Portuguese sources. This, however, seems unlikely to have been the Kukiya associated with the Songhay and Gao. We find it unlikely that the Sonni or Si dynasty would have not controlled Kukiya by the 1430s if not far earlier. After all, Ly Tall herself implies that Mali lost control of much of its northern and eastern domains around the time it lost control of Timbuktu in the 1430s. Consequently, it seems unlikely to have held Kukiya, too. Of course, Ly Tall tdoes raise interesting pints due to the possible depopulation of Gao in c.1375 and its decline in the late 1300s and early 1400s but we believe it unlikely that Malian influence would have still been strong in that area. 

Outside of a few quibbles with questionable claims or debatable conclusions about Mali's imperial reach to the east and over Gao-Kukiya, the author endeavors to use oral traditions in conjunction with Ibn Khaldun, al-Umari, and Ibn Battuta to sketch the outline of imperial Mali's administration. According to her research, the empire appears to have not depended on enslaved officials, although she identifies a griot who was willing to explain the rise of one former slave official who usurped power (perhaps the Sakoura of Ibn Khaldun's account). The issue of succession, which we saw led to frequent conflicts, appears to have followed two patterns. After Sundiata, it was mainly collateral, moving from eldest brother to younger siblings. After Mansa Musa, however, the succession seems to have emphasized father-son inheritance. Perhaps this was due to the greater Islamization of the Mandingue aristocracy or the specific desires of rulers to ensure their sons would reign. Sadly, the lack of sources for later Mali history in the 15th and 16th century does not allow us to clearly identify which pattern of succession predominated. Perhaps, after losing its northern territories, the Mandingue returned to an emphasis on collateral succession, a principle deeply grounded in Mandingue polities and clan structure. In addition, the administrative structure was one that, of course, featured a prominent role for griots, repositories of tradition and history who were closely linked to the mansas. The Mali Empire's administrative structure also included a role for local dynasties in annexed or conquered territories, though sometimes replacing them with representatives of the central government. 

Overall, Ly Tall's study is a careful one that attempts to integrate all the known sources. While she appears to have lacked the ability to read Portuguese, the French and English translations provide enough data to demonstrate that Mali's influence continued in Gambia. Her argument that control of this stretch of the coast played a major role in the survival of a Mali empire until the end of the 16th century is an interesting one that could be strengthened with further data or figures on the scale of the gold trade with the Portuguese. Nonetheless, the fertility of the land along the Gambia River and the trade with Europeans on the coast likely did contribute to Mali's survival after the loss of its northern territories. That said, Malian control of some of the gold sources which provided gold to Djenne and Timbuktu must have been an important source of revenue for the mansas. Even if Songhay and, then the Pashalik in Timbuktu controlled the north, Mali remained relevant in the gold trade to the north. Indeed, as late as 1599, the mansa of Mali attempted to seize Djenne, proof that the state was still a power in the region and willing to try to retake former provinces. 

Rome in the Nubian and Ethiopian Imagination

We found this talk by Giovanni Ruffini on Rome in the Ethiopian and Nubian Imagination to be fascinating and a worthwhile listen. Anything accessible yet serious about medieval Nubia is worthy of attention and should be disseminated to all interested parties. 

Benin and the Europeans, 1485-1897

Ryder's Benin and the Europeans, 1485-1897 has been presented as one of the better texts to read for an understanding of the Kingdom of Benin based on written sources. Sadly, despite the long history of contact and trade with Europe (Portugal, England, Netherlands, France, Capuchin missions), Benin was never a major exporter of slaves and commerce with Europe appears to have been more peripheral to the kingdom's economy. Instead, unspecified links with the interior, including distant Nupe and Hausa centers to the north, were likely far more important. To make things even more complicated, Benin lost control of the lower river to the Warri kingdom's Itsekiri, relying on Ughoton as their major port of trade. However, large European ships could not sail that far, further complicating trade. Benin, consequently, had to rely on the Itsekiri and Ijo peoples to some extent for trade with Europeans. And due to the royal monopoly on ivory and attempts by the oba to control trade tightly, conflicts with the Dutch and other Europeans were frequent. 

Nonetheless, Ryder's study analyzes the surviving corpus of European sources to narrate the history of Benin's relations with the European powers active on the West African coast. Unfortunately, he was not successful at connecting the events and features in the European sources too strongly with the narratives and traditions of Benin based on oral sources and art history. Some critics of Ryder's study suggest he was too tentative here and, like them, we feel at times that we have very little idea what was going on in Benin internally. Some of the conflicts over trade, trade stoppages, and attempts by the oba to lower prices or attain access to firearms certainly can be linked to some degree with events in Benin known from tradition. The civil wars, for instance, or the period of 17th century weak rulers, can be glimpsed or inferred from the reports, journals and letters of Europeans stationed on the coast. Still, one feels like this book must be read in conjunction with Bradbury, Egharevba, and Connah's archaeological research to make sense of what was happening.

Intriguingly, Ryder's book alludes to some possible deeper ties Benin enjoyed with the Nupe, Idah, and perhaps Hausa networks of trade and circulation of goods. During the mid-17th century, when cloth exports of Benin became a major item of trade for resale on the West African coast, Ryder suggests that much of this product had to be acquired by Benin traders from interior parts of West Africa. Some may have been supplied from as far away as Nupeland, pointing to a trade link that connected Nupe production centers with the coast and European trade. Later, in c.1787, Ryder briefly discusses Landolphe's encounter with Muslims in Benin, said to have come from Oyo. While his description of them suggests a more northerly origin in the Hausa states or the Sahel, this brief description of them points to long-distance trade between Benin and northern Nigeria (and beyond). One wonders to what extent Benin's cloth, salt, ivory, and slave trading linked to as far away as Oyo and the northern of the Niger River. Indeed, Benin's interior trade must have been of enough importance for the kingdom's interests due to their often limited exchange with Europe. Of course, the European sources scarcely tough upon this theme, and perhaps one can understand the reluctance of Ryder to infer too much from these aforementioned sources.

Last, but certainly not least, the extensive documentation on Benin does point to the troubling issue of assumptions of immutable traditions. On a number of instances, Ryder cites sources which point to different traditions, greetings, and changing customs like human sacrifice. Allegedly not reported in the early Portuguese sources, human sacrifice rituals grew and decreased depending on circumstances. Due to the lower power of some obas in terms of political centralization and military authority, Ryder believes they endeavored to increase their status through the belief in their supernatural powers. Perhaps this was why some obas organized rituals featuring more sacrifices than others? Regardless, the documentation is enough to point out how tradition can change rather quickly, making it more problematic to assume too much continuity for any society based on traditional beliefs and practices. 

Racial Tropes in the Moroccan Conquest of Songhay

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Although mainly based on one source produced as part of a royal proclamation after the defeat of the Songhay, Mauro Nobili and Saïd Bousbina demonstrate the reduction of Songhay into the trope of the enslaveable black. This attitude, by the way, reminds us of al-Fishtali's similarly condescending references to the envoy of Borno who was received in Morocco during the the reign of Idris b. Ali. Race, and the blackness of the Songhay trumped their Islamic and ethnic identities. 

Nubia and Ethiopia

Enjoy a nice overview on medieval Nubia and Ethiopia by Adam Simmons. Very interesting lecture. 

Survival of the Garamantes?

Image from the World History Encyclopedia

We have been perusing the Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West Africa History and the reports and studies by archaeologists and wonder if the Garamantian state, in some form, persisted well into the Islamic era. We know from John of Biclar's chronicle that the Garamantes sent an envoy to the Byzantines in 568, which is after the Vandal Wars and after Justinian, according to Procopius, had built churches and promoted Christianity at Ghadames and among the Berbers in Tropolitania. Even though there is no evidence of conversion to Christianity in the 6th century Fazzan, we know the Byzantines at least reached some of their neighbors. This seems to imply some

Then we have a period where we know little about the Fazzan until the 660s, when Uqba b. Nafi arrived and imposed tribute on the Fazzan and Kawar. Just using Arabic sources from the medieval period, one finds references to Qaramantiyyun, Qazan, and Fazzani people as "Sudan" ("blacks") who were described as non-Muslims. Reading al-Tabari on the Zanj Revolt in 9th century Iraq, one finds references to people from the Fazzan among the Zanj (black) slaves. Sahnun, in the 800s, also quoted the opinion of Malik ibn Anas on the Fazzanis, implying that they were still non-Muslim blacks in the late 700 (see the fascinating article by Brunschevig on this). Then, al-Ya'qubi referred to the Fazzan region as ruled by a powerful chief who was always at war with the Mazata Berbers in Wadan.

The Mazata were Ibadites, and probably among the slave-traders described by the same author as operating in Zawila and Kawar. My guess is that Waddan and Germa were the centers of two different polities that dominated the region, and in Waddan and Zawila, the Ibadites and their trading network were powerful enough to be the victim of a raid from the Abbasids in c.762-763. Yet, over a century later, another part of the Fazzan region is described as independent. The polity controlling the section of the Fazzan in opposition to the Mazata at Waddan were likely the Garamantes, whose wars with the Ibadi Mazata would have led to some of them becoming captives sold into slavery abroad.

I think further evidence of this Garamantian state surviving longer can be seen in the remnant populations living at Germa and Tassawa described by al-Idrisi. Al-Idrisi seems to have been confused about the political layout of the land in the pre-Islamic era, but he described the people at these two towns using an irrigation system (perhaps the foggara in a far less intensive manner). My bet is that this remnant of the Garamantes engaged in trans-Saharan salt trade, since al-Muqaddasi described the Qaramatiyyun transact with salt. Maybe the Garamantes focused on the salt trade in the southern Fazzan and perhaps Kawar while the Mazata and other Berbers engaged in the slave trade with their Ibadi partners and Kanem? 

Anyway, al-Muqqadasi was the last source I know of to refer to a population called Garamantes (or something approximate). The Garamantes, at least in some form, survived as a distinct people until the end of the 10th or early 11th century, and were likely a heterogeneous Berber population. Islamization of Garama and its surroundings appears to have been complete by this time, too, with archaeologists like Mattingly reporting findings of a central mosque in the ancient Garamante capital. 

Fun with Languages

Although linguistics is an area of study we hardly understand, perusing the works of Claude Rilly on Meroitic and Nubian Languages, as well as the chapter by Murray Last in Becoming Hausa that includes the notion of a Coptic influence on Hausa suggestive of an early Copt presence or traders in that region, sparked our own amateurish attempts to find links between distant African languages. Using English or French bilingual dictionaries for Hausa, Coptic, Old Nubian, Kanuri, and the Zaghawa languages, we pretended we could discover possible links that connect the Middle Nile with the Central Sudanic regions of Hausaland and Kanem-Borno. Of course, since we don't really know what we're doing, most of this is difficult to say and rather difficult to prove without a much deeper understanding of Egyptian, Kanuri, Hausa, Meroitic and Zaghawa languages. 

First, the fascinating notion of Rilly that the Meroitic qore title for the king, being adopted by several other societies in Sudan. Well, this very title, sometimes presented as qere in other studies of the Meroitic language, bears a close resemblance to the archaic Zaghawa or Beri word for king, kire (or kireh) While we need further research on the Zaghawa and related Saharan languages of the the Nilo-Saharan family, the Zaghawa associated with the early state of Kanem called their kings KAKRH in the unvocalized Arabic rendering of al-Ya'qu'bi in the late 9th century. While several centuries separate early Kanem from the Napatan-Meroitic civilization, perhaps the Zaghawa, who were mobile and probably interacted in some fashion or another with the Nubian civilizations, borrowed the term from the Meroitic language because of the prestige and influence of Meroe on other Sudanic peoples. In addition, the etymology of the Meroitic word for king, according to Rilly's research, is traced to what he considers the Meroitic term for head. Well, the Zaghawa kire has no link to their word for head, although kire can be used for an older sibling. Ultimately, in our opinion, a possible Meroitic origin for the titles of early Kanem kings is suggestive, perhaps linking, in some fashion, the Meroitic civilization with the rise of other kingdoms in western Sudan and Chad. If early Kanem and its Zaghawa rulers adopted the Meroitic title, what else was possibly influenced by ancient Nubia in Kanem-Borno?

Besides the possible Meroitic origin of the early titles of Kanem rulers, Hausa and Coptic is another interesting relationship. While we failed to find, in our amateurish attempt, significant connections between Coptic and Hausa, it is a little easier to understand how Hausa (and Chadic) are classified as Afro-Asiatic languages. For instance, the Hausa word for palace, fada, is similar to the Egyptian pharaoh. We believe this connection is due to both words being rooted in the following two words: "big house."  The Hausa term for sin, zunubi, almost looks like the Coptic term for sin, too (ⲛⲟⲃⲉ). Indeed, the Hausa term for king, or sarki, which almost resembles the Egyptian špsj and srḫ or serekh. Other speculative and or possible links between Hausa and Egyptian or Coptic can be seen in their respective words for moon, weave, some numbers, and, perhaps, the Hausa and Egyptian words for towns (birni and dmj. It is likely that most of these similarities stretch back deeper in time to the Afroasiatic roots of Hausa and Ancient Egyptian, instead of influences from the Coptic on Hausa in medieval times. Who knows, perhaps the famous bori cult of the Hausa has a common origin with the term ba in Egyptian.  

It is also likely that the Kanuri influences on Hausa, which could be the origin of the term birni, included other words of Nilo-Saharan languages as well as Berber via the Sahara. Intriguingly, the Kanuri equivalent to write, borrowed by Hausa, may be of Berber origin instead of Egyptian or Nubian, yet not from the Tuareg Berbers. What this means is unclear, but we think it very likely that the Zaghawa were possibly influenced by or interacted with speakers of the ancient Meroitic language. Murray's theory of a Coptic influence on Hausa or a traceable Coptic linguistic presence in Hausaland seems unlikely, though. Indeed, most of the similarities were probably due to both languages sharing a common root as Afroasiatic tongues. Nonetheless, we are fascinated by a possible Meroitic linguistic influence in western Sudan and Chad, although far more work needs to be done on the various languages spoken in the region.