The Bambara in Haiti

Marriage in Jacmel of Louis Rene, of the Bambara country, to Sophie, also of the Bambara nation. When free people still use the "nation" Bambara to identify themselves, it may be a more meaningful claim of self-identity or self-expression tied to the Bamana or Bambara peoples.

Unlike, say, Louisiana, where the "Bambara" presence and legacy has been a subject of study or inquiry for some time, the "Bambara" legacy in Haiti is understudied. While scholars continue to debate the meaning of the term and to what degree its use in the Americas reflected a single or singular "people" in our modern sense, "Bambara" was a "nation" in Saint-Domingue with a consistent presence throughout the 18th century. The "Bambara" were always a sizable proportion of the Senegambian/Upper Guinea captives in the colony, and have likely shaped Haitian Creole, Vodou, and other aspects of Haitian culture in ways we do not always appreciate. For instance, is the Haitian Creole baka related to the Bamana baga or are veve also partly inspired by graphic signs of Bamana? Is the concept of nyama perhaps relevant here for understanding aspects of Haitian religion?

Arrival of a slave ship bringing "Bambara"captives to Saint-Domingue.

We suspect that "Bambara" did acquire some specificity in Saint-Domingue as an ethnolinguistic term, perhaps as a hodgepodge category combining non-Muslim Mandingues, Bamana, and others who spoke Mande languages. For instance, one runaway ad describing a Soso (Susu) as a type of "Bambara" suggests that the French recognized that some of the captives from areas of Upper Guinea spoke related languages or were conversant in other tongues. That "Bambara" was an ambiguous "nation and that its use within West Africa itself was also somewhat ambiguous is clear, however. The appellation of "Bambara" for pagans in Senegambia region and today's Mali is clear, and the Bamana states of the 17th and 18th century were also heterogeneous in that people of diverse origins could be incorporated into the state. 

More examples with 2 slave ships bringing "Bambara" captives to Haiti. One carried a mixed cargo with Wolof, Poulard and Bambara.

What is clear is that the "Bambara" were distinct from Wolof and Poulards. They also shared enough commonalities within their own group to be recognizable in the colony for factors besides language. Behavior, facial scarification, and, in some cases, self-assertions of a "Bambara" identity in the colonial era or post-independence era may point to an actual idea of a "Bambara" ethnicity or "nation" in some limited form. To what extent these were victims of the slave trade of Kaarta and Segu is unclear, although one would expect some Bamana to have fallen victims to the slave trade when their armies lost to others. 

Amazingly, assertions of a Bambara national identity persisted in 19th century Haiti. The above case, of Charles, born in c.1770 but registering in 1810, is declared to be of the Bambara nation. This is possibly meaningful, since it suggests that an identity linked to Bambara-ness lingered after Haitian independence.

Its interesting to see that even after Haitian independence, some were still identified as Bambara, as the case of Charles in 1810 indicates. "Bambara" did mean or connote something beyond a "nation" entirely fabricated or shaped by the slave trade and colonial society. Indeed, the retention of a "Bambara" nation in Haitian Vodou and aspects of Mandingue and Bamana culture surviving among Haitians in Morne Rouge may be telling. A deeper study of the Bamana language may also reveal more influence from Bamana and related Mande languages in Haitian Creole. 

Intriguingly, Bambara also survived as a surname in Haiti. Like other African "nations" taken as surnames, Bambara appeared as late as the end of the 19th century in places like Bainet. There, in Bainet, a Dessources Auguste, who died in 1905, was said to be the son of a Simone Bombara (Bambara). 

The "Bambara" legacy can also be seen in the Haitian Revolution itself with leaders like Gilles Bambara, who was sadly imprisoned by the orders of Dessalines for raising questions of caste (according to Ardouin and Madiou). One wonders if the martial prowess and development of Segu and Kaarta may have been an influence on the rebel slaves of "Bambara" origin in Saint-Domingue. Certainly "Bambara" and other West African beliefs influenced the use of charms and gris-gris or amulets during the Haitian Revolution. 

A "Bambara" captive listed in a notarized document from 1719, Jacmel.

We hope to revisit this topic with a deeper level of sources on the "Banbara" nation in Vodou and possible influences from the Bamana in Haitian Creole. Even if outnumbered by other groups, the "Bambara" were a consistent presence throughout the 18th century for African "nations" in Saint-Domingue. It is very likely that, like in Louisiana, they had a strong influence on the early slave culture in the colony and probably shaped other aspects of Haiti we do not know about. That some free people of color and even Haitians in the 19th century still used the "nation" of Bambara to mean something, we suspect that the self-identification may have actually corresponded more than we realize with the Bamana in Mali. 

The Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno

Muhammad Nur Alkali's Kanem-Borno Under the Sayfawa: A study of Origin, Growth and Collapse of a Dynasty is a vastly important work in the history of one of Africa's greatest royal dynasties. Existing for probably over 1000 years, the dynasty succeeded to build a strong state in an environmentally challenged zone. Later, they survived disintegrating forces to reemerge from their new, more secure base, Borno, as the dominant power of the Central Sudan. It's rulers were renowned for undertaking the pilgrimage to Mecca, sponsoring Islamic scholarship, and for occupying a central role in trans-Saharan and Sudanic trade routes for centuries. Nur Alkali's careful history of the dynasty, which benefits from his local connections and familiarity with Kanuri language and unpublished sources by local Borno scholars, is mainly marred by poor editing. This, sadly, occasionally hinders understanding and is a shame. Nur Alkali's explanation for the Sayfawa dynasty's decline in the 18th century is also unconvincing or incomplete. The spread of Sufism within the state, for instance, is never elucidated, and the reader is still somewhat confused about the author's argument for the growing autonomy of provinces and territorial chiefs within the Empire. Nonetheless, this work, despite its age as a 1970s dissertation, is foundational for its delicate balance of written and oral sources, plus Nur Alkali's judicious analysis of these sources to create a complete narrative of the Sayfawa maiwa.

One of the best features of the book, although also depressing, is the reference to unpublished and important studies by local Borno intellectuals. For instance, Ibrahim Imam was the author of an unpublished work, Peoples of Bornu, that is cited repeatedly by Alkali. It is a pity the work was never published since its author was a Kanuri person with elite connections who interviewed people from different backgrounds/social classes about history, genealogies, etc.  While colonial-era administrators like Palmer did similar things, Palmer lacked the deeper familiarity and experience with the local languages and cultures and undoubtedly introduced his own colonialist and racist biases. Alkali also cites some other unpublished works, including ones from an elder shaykh's family library, Sheikh Abubakar El-Miskin. Obviously, we lack the ability to read such texts in Arabic, Kanuri or West African languages, but it is a shame some of these texts were never published or translated into English and French. For instance, an important Kitab by Muhammad Yanbu remains unpublished, while a study and translation of another of his texts remains inaccessible. These sources are of great importance for shedding light on local traditions of historiography and scholarship, which may be at risk of loss due to the ravages of time.

Moving on to Alkali's analysis of Kanem, or the first phase in the Sayfawa's history, our historian favors environmental/ecological understandings for the decline of Sayfawa power in the 1200s and 1300s. He also favored a divine kingship model for the pre-Islamic Sayfawa rulers, although "sacral" rather than divine kingship might be more applicable in this context. And despite the conversion to Islam, there was continuity in the "sacral" nature of kingship that was promoted further by Islamic study, pilgrimage, and devotion after Islamization of the dynasty. Nonetheless, the Sayfawa were able to unite various clans and establish a firm power base in Kanem. Through control of Kawar and trans-Saharan trade, plus ties to Egypt and the East, Kanem emerged as a major power in the Central Sudan during its Kanem phase. However, the apogee of medieval Kanem was quickly followed by decline after the reign of Dunama Dibalemi. Nur Alkali here prefers environmentalist explanations that center on the growing competition for increasingly scare resources. Imperial overexpansion under Dunama plus the decline of conditions in Kanem caused by the increasingly arid conditions led to conflict, civil strife, rebellious princes, and the near-disintegration of the empire. Nur Alkali is probably on firm ground here, as studies by subsequent researchers have pointed to dry periods and the further desiccation of the Sahel that must have contributed to the decline of living conditions in Kanem as sedentary agriculturalists and nomadic groups completed for resources. The reference to Muhammad Yanbu attributing the opening of the Mune by Dunama to the nefarious influence of Egyptians is also fascinating, although possibly a tradition from centuries later that did not accurately reflect what transpired. Nonetheless, that later generations of Borno scholars believed Egyptian intervention may have played a role in the destabilizing of Kanem suggests the Sayfawa maiwa may have been seen as a potential threat by leading powers of the Muslim East. 

Miraculously, however, the Sayfawa dynasty survived the century or so of political instability and strife after Dunama Dibalemi's reign. The houses of Idris and Dawud battling for the throne, scheming kaigamas and wars or battles with the Bulala, Sao (spelled Sau by Nur Alkali) and Judham Arabs did not lead to the complete collapse of the dynasty. Yet, realizing how unsustainable Kanem was and the ongoing conflict with the Bulala, the Sayfawa wisely made the decision to relocate to Borno as the center of the Empire. According to Nur Alkali, Borno was an excellent choice for rebuilding the Sayfawa state. Here, in a rich agricultural plain favorably situated for trade with both North Africa and across the Sudanic belt, the Sayfawa were able to reestablish their power through a period of consolidation, expansion and, in the 18th century, decline. Borno, whose "Sao" and other non-Kanuri groups were not completely subjugated until the reign of Idris b. Ali in the late 1500s, was nonetheless a favorable environment for agriculture, leather, textiles, salt trade, the slave trade, and the growth of towns and cities, like Birni Gazargamo. Borno, in short, provided a firmer foundation for the next apogee of the Sayfawa dynasty, one built on a more stable base that did not quickly collapse as the case of Kanem.

As one would expect, much of the book is spent on the important reigns of mais like Ali Gaji, Idris b. Ali, Umar b. Idris, and Ali b. Umar as major figures in the development of Sayfawa's power. These rulers also exemplified certain trends of state-building and political philosophy that reflected Islamic influences as well as local factors deeply rooted in the dynasty. Unlike Nur Alkali, we would suggest the Sayfawa retained many aspects of their pre-Islamic roots, particularly those which enhanced the status of the mai. Yet, under the periods of expansion and consolidation in the 1500s and 1600s, Borno embraced new ideas, military tactics and weaponry (firearms, for instance), and administrative reforms to integrate non-Kanuri peoples into the state. This remarkable achievement led to a period of longer-lasting hegemony and regional preeminence for Borno, which saw its influence spread deeply across the Central Sudan and the effective reconquest of Kanem, it's ancient heartland. Rulers like Umar b. Idris appear to have strengthened or consolidated the gains of the 16th century by incorporating, as in the case of Muniyo, a Mandara prince as a loyal agent of the state. Additional provincial officials were appointed and incorporated into a complex administrative system that improved defenses while preserving a predominant role of the central state for ensuring additional military support in the provinces.That said, one is surprised by some of Nur Alkali's conclusions. For instance, he expressed skepticism about the presence of Turkish mercenary gunners in the army of Idris b. Ali during the 1570s. That struck us as an unfair conclusion, particularly as Ahmad b. Furtu would have been well-informed and certainly able to distinguish Turks, Arabs, and others. In addition, some of Idris b. Ali's campaigns in and near Borno itself were not mentioned, since the author focused on the campaigns against the Sao and Ngizim. That seems to have been a mistake, since understanding Borno's relations with the Tuareg in the 1600s and 1700s would have benefitted from an analysis of Tuareg groups raiding Borno's frontier in the 1500s. This was clearly a longstanding problem in the region, and almost certainly one in which the sultans at Agades likely had little or no control over. 

As previously mentioned, we are not sure his explanation for the decline of the Sayfawa in the 1700s is convincing or complete. The period of decline, which he states began as early as the late 17th century but really developed over the course of the 18th, was attributed to a gradual loss of Sayfawa or Central control of territorial chiefs and rulers, like the Galtima (galadima?). This process is not exactly clear, although this may reflect our limited sources on this era. It is clear that some provincial officials began to ignore the Mai in Gazargamo while other peoples, like the Bade, resumed their semi-autonomous state. Meanwhile, the conflicts with the Tuareg did not end, as Borno lost, in c.1759, the lucrative Saharan site of Bilma. In addition, a drought in the 1740s triggered more southward migration of nomadic groups like the Tubu, Koyam and Jotko, who were not easily controlled by the Sayfawa. Unfortunately, we are still in the dark about why exactly the central government began to lose control of provincial chiefs and officials. And why this process led to a decline in military effectiveness that would be necessary to reassert Sayfawa control. Was it due to an abandonment of an expansionist foreign policy? In a disappointing way, Nur Alkali's final chapters seem to echo the problematic views of Urvoy, who see in the Late Sayfawa Period a series of weak rulers more focused on Islamic piety and study than the ordeals of effective state management or policy. Of course, this portrayal could be accurate, but it seems quite incomplete and does not adequately explain why the administrative system of fiefs, territorial divisions and military defenses severely declined across the 18th century. Undoubtedly, the famine years were likely an important factor. Tuareg raids and the loss of Bilma certainly contributed, too. But something else must have been occurring during the "Late Sayfawa Period" to hasten this decline. This decline, perhaps best epitomized by Mai Ali's disastrous 1781 campaign against Mandara, revealed just how much decay or rot infested the state. References to written sources seem to affirm this idea of corruption and decay, too, if the poems of al-Tahir (died c.1776) and other intellectuals are any indication. But surely there remains much room in future scholarship to entangle what caused the decline of the Sayfawa political system in the 18th century. 

To conclude his study, Nur Alkali briefly elucidates the rise of conflicts with the Fulani in western and southern Borno as well as the rise of al-Kanemi (though quite briefly). We are in complete agreement with Nur Alkali on the primarily political nature of the conflict with the Fulani, rather than religious factors being important for understanding Borno's conflicts with Sokoto. We also find it unlikely that Muhammad Bello's account is very reliable, although he should still be seriously considered in light of local Borno sources referring to corruption and internal problems in Borno during the 18th century. But one was hoping for a history of the Sayfawa that chronicled their later years of decline, as al-Kanemi increasingly sidelined them and became the effective head of government. What was the Sayfawa court like in those days, as it was reduced to figurehead status and dependence on al-Kanemi for its very survival of the Fulani attacks? One suspects that those depressing twilight years from c.1808-1846 involved factors that might have been unsavory to elites of Borno in the 20th century. Yet understanding those crucial decades might elucidate our struggle to make sense of the pre-Shehu years of Borno and why, according to Barth and others, records of the Sayfawa dynasty may have been destroyed or obfuscated. That complex, ambivalent legacy seems very relevant for an understanding of the historiography of Borno and how one dynasty supplanted and later erased the one whose very existence had been central in the history of Kanem and Borno. Although it does appear that many notables from the Sayfawa period were incorporated into the al-Kanemi dynasty's system, which inherited and maintained many aspects of the previous system, there likely were a series of conflicts over power and legacy which shaped how the history of the Sayfawa is remembered in the 20th and 21st centuries. 

In summation, Nur Alkali's study is a major one that highlights a number of local sources, traditions, and perspectives on one of the world's great royal dynasties. While the explanatory power of the later chapters on Borno's decline leave something to be desired, this is an excellent overview of the complex history of a major dynasty. The familiar problems of sources is a huge barrier for the early period in the dynasty's history, before Islamization in the late 11th century. Nonetheless, Nur Alkali adroitly draws from oral traditions and written sources to develop a plausible model for the Sayfawa dynasty's rise and fall in Kanem. While we take issue with the portrayal of the pre-Hume Mais as divine kings, his analysis of Kanem's decline after its zenith under Dunama Dibalemi is persuasive. Today, with the benefits of more archaeological excavations and new interpretations of the old sources, one can undeniably improve upon this. But, one should pursue the theory proposed by Muhammad Yanbu on Egyptian interference influencing Dunama Dibalemi's behavior with regard to the Mune. Likewise, scholars today must reexamine the 18th century in Borno, trying to find and publish any texts from that era and studying family papers, manuscripts, and texts that have survived. Lastly, a serious analysis of the role of slavery and the slave trade in the history of Kanem-Borno is a must. Nur Alkali largely ignores slavery, though sources suggest captives were the most valued commodity of the Sayfawa state in trans-Saharan commerce. Local agriculture, textiles, leather products, and salt were probably of greater importance for sources of revenue and in terms of the state's trade with other Sudanic peoples (Hausaland, Kwararafa, Kanem, Bagirmi, etc.), but slave labor contributed to this to some degree. While probably on a smaller scale than the prevalent system of slavery in the 19th century Sokoto Caliphate, any attempt at developing a deeper understanding of the social and economic history of Kanem-Borno must treat the issue of slavery more deeply. 

Jewry of Medieval Cairo

The Jewish community was very integrated culturally, politically and economically into the larger society of Egypt. The Jewish residents of the cosmopolitan city fared better under Islamic rule than anywhere in Christian Europe. Indeed, their integration into Egyptian society indicates the degree of heterogeneity and diversity in Egyptian society. The simple fact that Jews enjoyed rights and privileges in addition to tolerance in Muslim Egypt, as demonstrated by the Geniza papers, also counters the myth of Muslim intolerance and oppression of dhimmis, or non-Muslims. In fact, Jews generally lived under much worse conditions in Christian Europe during the medieval period since there were few legal protections, combined with a theologically driven anti-Semitism that led to ghettoization, collective violence as retribution, and general hostility. Jews in Islamic lands, such as Egypt, however, enjoyed special protections under Islamic law that allowed freedom to worship, maintain their own community institutions, greater economic opportunities, and no ghettoization. Nevertheless, Jews were still a minority group in a Muslim-dominated social hierarchy, and were never completely free from repression or discriminatory practices, a product of the Pact of ‘Umar.

 Culturally, Jewish Egyptians were far more integrated into Egyptian society than their counterparts in Europe. Jewish and Muslim dietary laws, for instance, converged in multiple instances, especially regarding consumption of pork. Jewish halakha and sharia law also have parallels, offering evidence of additional similar cultural and religious practices that eased socializing between Muslims and Jews.[1] In addition, interreligious marriage between Muslim men and Jewish women faced no opposition.[2] No evidence of Sunnii Muslims believing in contamination from contact or socializing with Jews appears, either, which has further support by the mixed character of residential areas. In fact, Jews and Muslims could own property together, and the Jewish community of Cairo was not separated from the rest of the city, but spread across in different clusters. [3] The Geniza also show that the Jewish population lived in neighborhoods where at least half of the houses had Gentile neighbors.[4] Thus, Jews and Muslims lived side by side, could intermarry, owned property and businesses in partnerships, practiced similar dietary laws, and interacted with each other socially in the marketplace, in administrative positions, and in hospitals.

Furthermore, Jews adopted cultural and social practices of the broader Muslim society, such as the Arabic language and script, and the position of the qadi within Islamic society became a model for judges in the Jewish community.[5] Due to the influence of Islam, Jewish judges were increasingly expected to perform similar roles of administering and managing funds connected with social services to the community, such as taking care of orphans, widows, the poor and sick, foreigners and captives.[6] In addition, despite occasional attempts to enforce a distinctive dress code for Jews and other non-Muslims, it was rarely enforced and Jews and Muslims were indistinguishable by their attire during the Fatimid and early Ayyubid dynasties.[7] Unfortunately, there were periods where the imposition of dress restrictions on dhimmis, meant to perpetuate a distinction between Muslims and non-Muslims, was enforced, such as during the reign of the mad Fatimid caliph, al-Hakim, considered insane and cruel by all Muslim historians. This particular Fatimid caliph, ruling from 996–1021, required Christians and Jews to wear distinctive belts and badges.[8] This one extreme case of persecution against Jews and Christians also included requiring Jews to wear an image of the golden calf worshipped by the Israelites in Exodus and Christians an image of the cross in public baths.[9] Still, most Muslims considered these persecutions aberrations, and in the aftermath of these persecutions, dhimmis forced into conversion were allowed to convert to their previous faiths.[10]

Despite being quite integrated into overall Egyptian society, Jews were often pressured into expressing their religious faith behind closed doors. Funeral processions, for example were often difficult since public displays of the Jewish faith contradicted a regulation in the Pact of ‘Umar, which aimed to limit displays of faiths besides Islam.[11] They also had to be sure that new synagogues would not surpass surrounding mosques in height lest they arouse the fanaticism of some of the Muslims, another burden on their freedom of religious and cultural expression because the synagogue was the center of the Jewish community.[12] The Jewish community also did not practice the seclusion of women, so that aspect of cultural identity among Cairo’s Jewry was absent within their own community, although they were also patriarchal and male-dominated. Still, like Muslim women, Jewish women had to worship in a separate compartment in the house of worship.[13]  

            On the political level, Cairo’s Jewish community was relatively integrated into the state apparatus. Like other non-Muslim communities, the Muslim rulers allowed a certain amount of autonomy, often working through religious leaders within the Jewish communities to collect taxes and administer the law. This practice was instituted in Egypt through the position of the Gaon, or head of the yeshiva, which had judicial and administrative authority over the Jewish community.[14] The Muslim state also reserved the right to confirm his office, ruling through the Gaon and the Nagid, a Hebrew title for the ‘head of the Jews.’[15] The Nagid was expected to address complaints by Jews about government oppression, expected to act against rapacious officials either by intervention through the central government or by talking things over with local authorities on the occasion of a visit, essentially representing the power of the Muslim state through the religious institutions of Jewish life, the synagogue and yeshiva.[16] The elders and notables of the Jewish community also participated in the political system by issuing and receiving letters on behalf of the state, promulgating statutes, and signed contracts, sometimes alone or in conjunction with the muqaddam, an appointed executive.[17] The muqaddam also played an essential role in the political system, appointed with the consent of the community by the Jewish central leaders and accredited by local representatives of the government.[18] The aforementioned judges, whose role in the Jewish community by the middle of the 12^th century began to resemble that of the Muslim qadi, also participated in this system as intermediaries between the Muslim state and Jewish subjects.[19]

            The Jewish community of Cairo was also given positions in the state beyond that of representing their religious group. For example, the sofer, or Jewish scribes and copyists, served the Fatimids as court scribes.[20] Jewish physicians also served in the Fatimid court, such as Moses b. Elazar, who became an influential person in the court of caliph al-Mu’izz in the 10^th century.[21] Other physicians with political power include Samuel b. Hananya, who became a leader in the Jewish community in the middle 12^th century.[22]  Indeed, the Shiite Fatimids were well-known for condoning dhimmi participation in state service, partly due to the simple fact that the dynasty was Shiite in a sea of Sunni Islam and therefore eager to find loyal administrators.[23] With that consideration, the rise of Jewish merchant Ibn Killis, an Muslim convert, in the financial administration of the Fatimids in the late 10^th century, or the Tustari family, no longer surprises.[24] The Jewish vizier, Abu S’ad, who reached the pinnacle of his power during the regency of the mother of caliph al-Mustansir, provides another example of Muslims serving in the highest positions within the Fatimid caliphate.[25] The presence of Jews at the highest positions in the Muslim world indubitably illustrates the degree of integration Jews reached under Islam.

Unfortunately, Jews and other dhimmis were excluded from state service in the 9^th century by the decree of Abbasid caliph al-Mutawakkil, but the decree was only sporadically enforced during Abbasid rule.[26] The simple fact that Jews and Christians were found in all urban centers of the Islamic world made them inevitably tied to the political system in some way, even if only a few Jews rose to top administrative positions. Still, the Pact of ‘Umar, the aforementioned bilateral contract between Muslims and dhimmis in which dhimmis agree to discriminatory regulations, such as the jizya, or poll tax, in exchange for tolerance and protection, obviously did not exclude Jews from participating in political circles.[27] The legal system also treated Jewish subjects with far more juridical objectivity, not imposing collective punishment on Jews for alleged crimes of individuals, unlike the Latin West where pogroms and collective punishment were common.[28] However, the jizya tax was a heavy burden on non-Muslim populations, especially since if they did not receive a receipt, they could be charged again.[29]

            On the economic front, Jews were also well integrated into Egyptian society. As mentioned previously, Jews and Muslims owned property together and were business partners, something impossible in the contemporary West.[30] Jews were also present in the economy at several different levels and types of employment, not solely moneylenders. Jews were broadly distributed across all sectors of economy, with some owning land and raising crops in arable Egypt while others were also involved in dyeing, metalware, cheese, sugar manufacture, and various other sectors of the economy.[31] Jews were present at ports, served as police and engaged in tax-farming.[32] The control of mints was also Jewish-dominated in most Muslim states.[33] Thus, Jews were wholly integrated in broad array of economic activities in the Islamic world, and often traveled abroad to engage in international trade with Muslim partners in addition to engaging in intra-Jewish trade and economic exchanges across the Dar al-Islam.

  Uniquely, Jewish moneylending was largely within the Jewish community in the Islamic world, unlike Jewish moneylenders loaning to strapped rChristians in medieval Europe.[34] The Christian theological claim against usury and the pursuit of material wealth contradicted Islam’s pro-trade stance, which encouraged the pursuit of material wealth, trade, and business, thereby sparing Jews of ridicule and violence for engaging in usury or business.[35] Medieval Islam did not portray the Jew or Christian as collaborating with Satan to undermine society, which Jews were perceived to do in Christian Europe for practicing usury.[36] As a result, shared judgment of Muslim and Jewish legal experts regarding the necessity for flexible response to the law of the merchants developed alongside congruence in economic practice generally.[37] Nevertheless, Jewish merchants often signed contracts before Muslim and Jewish authorities concurrently.[38] In addition to engaging in business transactions on an international level, Jewish merchants of Cairo were active in all the bazaars, marketplaces, and squares, not exclusively the Lane of Jews, which only housed a fraction of Cairo’s Jewish residents.[39]

The degree of Jewish assimilation into Muslim Egypt during the medieval period contradicts standard depictions of Islam and Arabs as intolerant. Participating in every economic sector, working as viziers, administrators, and community representatives for the Jewish minority and the Muslim state, or adopting elements of Islamic culture demonstrate the high degree of cultural miscegenation in the pluralistic societies of the Islamic world. This degree of cultural heterogeneity hardly surprises when on takes into account Egypt’s large Coptic population in the medieval period, as well as the general cosmopolitan character of Cairo and the Nile Delta throughout history, since it is the meeting ground for Asia, Africa, and Europe. The high degree of Jewish assimilation and tolerance in Fatimid Egypt, for example, stands true for the Coptic communities and other Christian sects in the region. Naturally, this relative tolerance and acceptance of dhimmis in the Muslim world was far from a Golden Age of interfaith solidarity, since they were required to pay taxes and did at times face persecution or special impositions regarding dress and displays of religion. The centuries proceeding Fatimid and early Ayyubid rule in Egypt also show that the inclusion of non-Muslims in positions of authority and other special privileges could be revoked by intolerant rulers. Regardless of what dynasty ruled in Cairo, however, the Jewish population enjoyed far more protection and inclusion within broader society than their counterparts in Christian Europe enjoyed until the arrival of industrial nation-states.

---

[1] Cohen 27

[2] Ibid 64.

[3] Ibid 126

[4] Gotein 290.

[5] Ibid 216

[6] Ibid.

[7] Cohen 64.

[8] Ibid 165.

[9] Ibid 74.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid 60.

[12] Gotein 144.

[13] Ibid 215.

[14] Ibid 5.

[15] Ibid 23.

[16] Ibid 37.

[17] Ibid 60.

[18] Ibid 68.

[19] Ibid 216.

[20] Ibid 229.

[21] Ibid 243.

[22] Ibid 244.

[23] Cohen 67.

[24] Ibid 92.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid 66.

[27] Ibid 54.

[28] Ibid 74.

[29] Ibid 67.

[30] Ibid 126.

[31] Ibid 99.

[32] Gotein 362, 379.

[33] Cohen 375.

[34] Ibid 98.

[35] Ibid 89.

[36] Ibid 173.

[37] Ibid 94.

[38] Gotein 400.

[39] Ibid 291.

Mozambiques and East Africans in Colonial Haiti

Trying to find details on the "Mozambiques" and East Africans in colonial Haiti is, rather difficult. They were largely imported into the colony during the last 2 decades of colonial rule, often being imported at Le Cap, Saint-Marc, and Port-au-Prince. While Jesuit historian Charlevoix mentioned an early presence of Monomotapa and Madagascar slaves in the colony, they were not considered desirable slaves by the French. However, the development of the Mascarenes and the insatiable need for labor in Saint-Domingue made East Africa and Mozambique a supplier of over 20,000 captives to the colony from 1773 until the 1790s. As the above maroon case indicates, some of these "Mozambiques" had even been enslaved in the Mascarenes for a while, learning French (and presumably, Mauritian Creole?) before being brought to Saint-Domingue. 

Michel, a Macoua (Makua) 

Trying to determine the "nations" of the Mozambiques in Saint-Domingue is difficult. The only two "nations" we have seen explicitly mentioned in the colony are Makua (Macoua, Maquoua) or Maconde (of Tanzania and parts of Mozambique). Despite the appellation, many of the "Mozambiques" came from diverse areas in Southeastern Africa. The Makua may have been a larger proportion of the total, but if the composition of the "Mozambiques" in the Mascarenes is a reliable indication, Saint-Domingue may have included Mondjavoas, Senas, Moussenas, Yambanes, Mouquindos, Maravis, and Niamoeses in addition to Makua and Maconde. This ethnic heterogeneity seems to have been completely lost in the eyes of Saint-Domingue's slaveholders, who should have known the "Mozambiques" were quite different from other Africans yet not a singular group in themselves.

A Mozambique who spoke Portuguese and Spanish

It also appears that some of the "Mozambiques" had spent substantial time in the Portuguese colony or among Lusophones. For instance, the above case of a runaway demonstrates how some "Mozambiques" could speak Portuguese and Spanish. This may explain why some of the "Mozambiques" encountered by Descourtilz were also devout Catholics (in his eyes). They, like some of the "Congo" in Saint-Domingue, were influenced by Roman Catholicism and may have added to the already Christian (or partly Christianized) segment of the enslaved population. Unfortunately, it is difficult to say to what extent these Catholic "Mozambiques" formed a significant part of the "Mozambique" population in Saint-Domingue, but they were conspicuous enough to be noticed by Descourtilz.

4 runaway Makuas. Perhaps the large concentration of "Mozambiques" in some areas favored marronage as they found people from the same or similar ethnolinguistic backgrounds to escape with.

A runaway slave of the Maconde "nation" appears here.

As for East Africans, purchased from Kilwa, Mombasa, Monfiat and Zanzibar, Saint-Domingue received a little over 2000. Vidargent, of the Malingue nation, may be an example of this East African (Tanzanian) presence. The French slave trader, Morice, used the word Malingue to refer to captives purchased from Kilwa. The name may be a corruption of Maningo or Machinga, peoples from the hinterland of Kilwa or the Tanzanian interior. Malingue could also refer to a completely different African "nation" in West or Central Africa, but we thought it interesting that Morice used the same word in the 1770s and an African of that "nation" appeared in the colony around the same time. This presence of captives purchased via the Swahili Coast was on a much smaller scale and, alas, the "nations" of these groups in the colony of Saint-Domingue are not clearly specified or listed in the archive. We know from Moreau de Saint-Mery that captives purchased from Montfiat, Kilwa, and variosu spots on the eastern coast of Africa could be found, including from some closer to the Cape of Good Hope (Natal Africans?). 

Sadly, our only somewhat detailed account of "Mozambiques" in colonial Haiti remains the work of Descourtilz. For example, he conversed with a Mirault who owned many Mozambiques, including one who allegedly consumed human blood. Again, it is via Descourtilz that we learn that some of the Mozambiques were Catholics through Portuguese influence. Even more useful is Descourtilz's brief and problematic description of the "Vaudoux" of the Mozambiques. According to him, their "Vaudoux" practice consisted of imploring their "serpent" or "vaudoux" for the favor of their masters, the acquisition of money, to find love or for other wishes. He even described a Mozambique "Vaudou" reunion which allegedly occurred at the Pelerin habitation in Saint-Louis. According to him, the Mozambiques met in a secret spot and as part of their ritual, a child was beaten or severely injured. Since Descourtilz did not witness some of the things he described, he must be used cautiously here. Nonetheless, we may be reading a very biased, incomplete account of diviners and spiritual practices of southeastern African peoples. 

After Haitian independence, the presence of "Mozambiques" was noted for some time. For example, a colonel named Louis Mosambique was killed by Petion in Saltrou for what may have been an attempted conspiracy or revolt in 1816. In terms of cultural legacy, it's possible their presence in Haiti was comparable to that of Brazil. They came in large numbers, but far smaller than other groups and therefore their cultural impact may be minimal. Instead, they were more likely to become part of the established culture among the enslaved. Nonetheless, it is both fascinating and horrifying to see the links between the Indian Ocean and Atlantic Ocean for the slave trade to the Mascarenes and the Caribbean. 

Bambara Timeline (Pre-1800s)

Adanson's augmented/revised map includes the "Bambara Empire" of which he knew little except for its role in providing slaves.

-1063: Tunka Manin of Ghana (Wagadu) ascended to the throne

-c.1137: al-Zuhri writes of Ghana attacking "Barabara" people for slaves, as well as Tadmakka raids against the "Barbara" pagans. The description of al-Zuhri is quite ambiguous, but the "Barbara" appear to have been pagan peoples related to the peoples of Ghana and to have practiced facial scarification and believed in their own nobility.

-1464-65: Sonni Ali of Songhay defeats Mossi ruler, Komdao, pursuing him to limits of "Bambara' land (Tarikh al-Fattash)

-c.1506: Earliest written attestation of "Bambara" in the Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis, a work referencing Banbarranaa, Beetu and Bahaa as towns whose inhabitants travel to Toom to buy gold for slaves. Mandingua merchants buy gold in the fairs there. 

-c.1558: Askia Dawud of Songhay, in addressing the ruler of Jenne, alludes to Bambara incursions.

-after 1591: Pagan "Bambara" referenced as attacking Jenne after the fall of Songhay (Tarikh al-Sudan). 

-c.1593-1608-1615: Ahmad Baba of Timbuktu, in his response to the questions of al-Isi on who was permissible to enslave, mentions the Bambara and Bobo as pagans beyond Jenne. A Bambara presence in Kala is also mentioned. The Bambara may also have been referenced as the pagan population living closest to the lands of Islam.

-1597-98: Pagan Bambara referenced in the Tarikh al-Sudan as allies of Hammad Amina, ruler of Masina

-1599: Mansa Mahmud IV of Mali fails to take Jenne

-1644: Revolt of Bambara of Segu area (Abitbol), possibly the revolt against the Sanakoi and Farkakoi 

-c.1650: Traditions indicate Bamana presence in Segu by 1650

-1674: Arma expedition against Bambara in Bara

-Late 1600s: Kaladian Koulibaly active as leader.

-c.1712-1755: Reign of Biton Koulibaly at Segu

-c.1715: Ruler of Cheibi fled to Douko, Bambara town, to escape an attack from the Pasha of Timbuktu

-1716: "Bambara" soldiers in Timbuktu

-1716-1719: Military expeditions against Bara Bambara from Arma of Timbuktu

-by 1719: "Bambara" slaves in Jacmel Quartier of Saint-Domingue (if not present earlier)

-1728: Labat describes people of Bambara as slaves of their king

-1731: Conflict between Haoussa and Gourma and Bambara pagans; Samba Rebellion in Louisiana, led by a "Bambara" slave 

-1733: Askia el-Hadj aids son of Maro to defeat Silti-Ouerendagh, pagan Bambara

-1739: Calm for all Bambara from Dirma to Bara and Bara to the west; reports of Fa Maghan the Wangara attacking Jenne and Bambara tradition of Fa Maghan attacking Segu and his defeat (Chronicles of Gonja)

-1740s: Long drought that severely impacted the Sahel region of West Africa

-c.1742: Pasha Said attacks 11 Bambara towns or settlements near the town of Askia El-Hadj

-1747: Ighor, a "Bambari," attacked caravan of Alid Oualata, taking prisoners.

-1753-1754: Segu blocked town of Sansa, Masina, and killed its chief, Folokoro

-1754-55: Segu attempts to take Jenne

-1755: Death of Biton Kulibali

-1756-57: Murder of Doukoure, son of Biton Kulibali, by slaves of Biton; Segu ruler who attempted to impose Islam deposed (faama Ali)

-1757: Adanson's Histoire naturelle du Sénégal: coquillages refers to the "Bambara Empire" that provided captives sold at Galam and the Gambia. 

-1758-59: Death of Kedebo Kanimou, ruler of Segu, after Tames. Succeeded by Kafa Dyogui, 3rd slave to govern Segu after death of Biton Kulibali.

-1766: Ngolo Dyara seizes power in Segu (reigns 16-18 years)

-1775-76: One of slave leaders of Biton Kulibali pillaged town of Hammat

-1788: Jacques Jacquet, dit Bambara, free black near Mirebalais (Saint-Domingue) appears as owner of runaway slave

-1790: Death of Ngolo Dyara, Reign of Da Manzon begins

-before 1791: a "Bambara camp" or neighborhood of Port-Louis in Mauritius established

-1796: Segu attacks Kaarta; Mungo Park visits Segu

-c.1806: Death of Gilles Bambara, a leader in the Haitian Revolution imprisoned by Dessalines for bring up "caste" (the color question). 

-1812: Muhammad Bello of Sokoto writes of the Bambara land as one rich in gold and inhabited by pagans

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