Edwige's Notes on the Melfi Subdivision

Ch. Edwige's "Notes sur la subdivision de Melfi" is a report from the 1920s based largely on oral traditions. While certainly aware of earlier works on Bagirmi's history, such as Nachtigal, Edwige's list of Bagirmi kings before the 19th century is much shorter. Perhaps due to the nature of his informants in Melfi, which included Sokoro, Kenga, and Dekakire, much of Bagirmi's pre-1800s past was not retained in local traditions. Exceptions, of course, could be found. For instance, the chiefly lineage of the n'gares of the Sokoros claimed to know the names of about 13 different chiefs. Besides this family lineage which inherited a position, the heterogeneous population of Muslims and non-Muslims provides fewer instances of this type of well-established genealogy. 

Despite the obvious errors and incomplete nature of Edwige's list of Bagirmi kings, it is nonetheless a possible opportunity to explore how traditions from this area of the kingdom perceived their distant past. In some ways, it follows the general narrative with occasional omissions or what may be legendary traits added to the tradition. Take Dalou-Birni, for example. Clearly identifiable with Nachtigal's Dalobirni, who reigned in the 17th century, he is also meant to be Birni Besse, one of the founding figures of Bagirmi's royal dynasty. Edwige's informants added extra details. First, according to Edwige, Dalu was of Arab origin from the Kuraysh (though it is telling that his brothers included one named Kenga, perhaps an admission of the shared roots of the Barma and Kenga). This Middle Eastern origin story is hardly surprising. But Edwige also shared a more narratively rich background for Dalou-Birni, whose accentuated color sparked the feeling from his father that his mother had committed adultery. Perhaps this is an attempt to explain the darker skin of Dalou-Birni despite his Arab father. After his father threw the infant Dalou-Birni into a fire and he miraculously survived, his father gifted his mother 100 cows. This is an attempt to link the etymology of the toponym Bagirmi with the words "Bagara mia!" that his mother shouted after the gift. 

Later on, upon arriving in Bagirmi, Dalou-Birni attracted followers through his skills as a hunter. However, a local ruler of the Bidili (Bideri?), which included locals already in the region such as the Birkete, was forced to pay a tribute to the Bulala sultan of Fitri, Saboun (is this tradition remembering Wadai's Saboun, who invaded Bagirmi in the early 1800s?). Since the tradition also turns the Bulala rulers into tributaries of Wadai, one must suspect we are dealing with anachronisms. After all, if one uses the conventional dating for Dalou-Birni and early Bagirmi, the 16th century, there was no Wadai. Indeed, the Bulala sultans would have been based in Kanem in the early 1500s. Unless one wishes to follow Carbou's theory, which would turn the Fitri-based kingdom which imposed tribute on Bagirmi into the Kuka kingdom, what exactly was going on in the area that became the center of Bagirmi's royal dynasty remains unclear. A connection to the Bulala sultans, however, may make more sense given their reference to Bagirmi in the context of a Bulala sultan in the 1500s by Ahmad b. Furtu. 

Regardless, Dalou-Birni's success at hunting and sharing of the meat continued to attract followers. Meanwhile, he also began preparations for ending the payment of tribute to Bagirmi. Dalou-Birni prepared the revolt by secretly preparing shields and spears to use against Saboun. When 30 horsemen were sent by the Bulala to collect the tribute (in strips of cloth and clothes), Dalou-Birni and 100 of his followers attacked and killed most of them. Unsurprisingly, Saboun later sent 300 horsemen to plunder the herds of the Arabs and Fulani in Bagirmi. Once again, Dalou-Birni defeated these forces and became king upon his return to Massenya. As king, he imposed tribute in horses to strengthen the army and gather the tribute in strips of cloth. It seems unlikely that he would not have engaged in any slave raiding, but supposedly he avoided it.

Unfortunately, the list of subsequent kings by Edwige omitted so many names that it would only go back as far as c. 1660 instead of the early 1500s. This meant that for Edwige, Dalou Birni must have lived in the 1600s whilst his successors only included Allah Hadji I, Laouan, Allah Hadji II, Gaourang I Kabir, Bourkou-Manda-Kabi, Abd-el-Kader, Mohamed Abssakin, Bourkou-Manda and Gaourang II. A few of these names are instantly recognizable, although others are less so (Allah Hadji). His informants may have telescoped many kings from the period before the 19th century. One sees this through Allah Hadji I's reign, who is presumably based on Abd Allah (r. 1568-1608 by Nachtigal's reckoning). However, this Allah-Hadji I of Edwige appears to be a composite figure combining a number of different Bagirmi kings and their exploits. Thus, Allah-Hadji I was said to have begun to attack the Massa, but also attacked the Saroua, Boua, Logone, and imposed vassal status on Logone, Kousseri and Goulfei. Through a successful siege of the town of Mahamat, the Kotoko king, these aforementioned Kotoko towns became vassals of Bagirmi.

The next named king, Laouan, easily recognizable as Loen or Loel, would have reigned in c. 1741-1751. Like Loel, this Laouan was killed and replaced by his younger brother. Although not named correctly, this brother was Muhammad al-Amin, whose reign Nachtigal placed from c. 1751-1785. Here is where traditions become interesting for Hadji. This mbang was living in exile in a place called Sounar. Presumably, Sounar is what Edwige's informants thought to be the city of Sennar to the distant east. However, tradition here has turned Muhammad al-Amin's life in the Eastern Sudan into one of becoming a local dyer in a village and marrying the chief's daughter. Details also diverge on the tale of his return. Since his "brother" Laouan was so oppressive, one of his musicians sought Allah-Hadji (Muhammad al-Amin), working together with him to return to Bagirmi and seize the throne. Needless to say, this version is quite distinct from Nachtigal's retelling, although it follows the same basic sequence. Indeed, Allah-Hadji uses Moito as a base and then defeats Laouan at Sado before becoming ruler of Bagirmi.

Additional problems can be found. Unlike Nachtigal, whose informants stressed the cruelty of Muhammad al-Amin and his numerous military expeditions, Allah-Hadji II was liked by his subjects and nothing else stood out from his reign. A similar problem emerges with the reign of Gaourang-Kabir, the son of Muhammad al-Amin. Absolutely no mention is made of the Wadai invasion launched by Saboun or any of the military ventures of these rulers. 

Clearly, Edwige's recounting of Bagirmi history before the 19th century is very flawed. But the specific area he collected information in may have played a role. Despite these aforementioned issues, his article nonetheless raises new questions about how the Bagirmi mbangs were remembered in different parts of the kingdom. Nachtigal, who was able to collect information from political elites tied to the court of the mbang, could access a more controlled royal genealogy in somewhat informal settings. Edwige, on the other hand, may have heard a less official version which, in spite of its omissions, still coherently overlapped with parts of the "official" version Nachtigal heard from elite informants. 

Le Baghirmi

In what may be a doomed long-term project, we have rekindled our interest in Bagirmi history. Sadly, the history of this kingdom, particularly before the 19th century, has not attracted as much attention. Naturally, much of this is due to the paucity of written sources. Nonetheless, Bagirmi oral traditions, royal genealogies, and occasional references to the kingdom from Borno, Wadai, or other sources can be used to reconstruct something of its pre-19th century past. Indeed, one suspects an unpublished dissertation by a Chadian author may have endeavored to do justice to this challenging topic of a comprehensive history of Bagirmi. However, its inaccessibility has led us to re-read various public domain sources on Bagirmi. Included in this category is Devallée's "Le Baghirmi" in Bulletin de la Société des Recherches Congolaises. 

Usually, writers just recycle Nachtigal's chronology or narrative whilst occasionally attempting to correlate it with the colonial-era reports or postcolonial texts on Bagirmi. Some focus on the 19th century, where more written sources and first-hand accounts can be found. Barth, Nachtigal and the colonial-era sources are often useful or detailed in their description of the kingdom and some of the political history. They also have severe limitations, too. For instance, some seem to emphasize the despotic, arbitrary, and cruel nature of many, perhaps most, Bagirmi rulers. Excessive taxation, frequent slave raiding, the buying and selling of offices, or the frequent blinding of rivals upon accession to the throne were frequently used as examples of this. Devallée and Lanier did this to a great extent. But the former was more indebted to Nachtigal in terms of his chronology and basic historical overview of the kingdom. In fact, he appears to have largely recycled Nachtigal's information with a few updates to bring it to the colonial era. 

Yet one must be at least occasionally skeptical of the largely negative portrayal of Bagirmi's precolonial rulers since events in the 19th century clearly placed a lot of pressure on the state. It's former glory was diminished after their defeat by Wadai's Sabun. The conditions of the 19th century may have led to more extreme forms of taxation abuses or unjust, arbitrary, and despotic rule. While these were undoubtedly present to varying degrees before the 1800s, the volatile last century must have placed more pressure on the mbangs. This may have led to an increase in the sale of state offices and certain honors and titles, including some regarding privileges for those who purchased the rights with regard to meetings with the king. In other words, the cash-strapped kingdom which found itself stuck between a powerful Wadai and a still influential Borno, may have become more oppressive and corrupt. 

In spite of our aforementioned issues with Devallée and Lanier, the former's "Le Baghirmi" is a good overview of the kingdom as a European understood it in the 1920s. Breaking down the demographics, political divisions into cantons, revenue system (and how it changed under colonial rule), practices of slavery, administrative structure, historical overview, and physical features of the land, Bagirmi as a unit of analysis becomes easier to contextualize within the larger Central Sudan. It's history as a kingdom once far more powerful or influential before Wadai's ascendancy in the 19th century is an intriguing case study for the Lake Chad Basin. As far as the colonial reports and publications on Bagirmi go, this is more comprehensive than Lanier's effort and, due to its reliance on Nachtigal, a bit easier to reconcile with other sources. 

Les Sultans Dadjo du Sila

Although mostly focused on Sila during the French colonial period, Henri Berre's Sultans Dadjo du Sila (Tchad) is still of use for those interested in the precolonial period. Relying on documents written by court-affiliated persons with a degree of Islamic education, the genealogies and reigns summarized by Berre were supposedly updated by subsequent rulers. To a certain extent, the genealogies are part of the fabricated Arab origin claimed by the Daju sultan, perhaps as part of the standard way to connect the ruling family's lineage back to the Arabian peninsula and important people related to the Prophet. But if one focuses on the key period from c. 1486-1916, the list may be usable. Undoubtedly, it probably omits some rulers, but a few of the kings who reigned since the establishment of the state in Sila were remembered for their relations with Wadai, Darfur, or Dar Runga. For instance, an attack from Wadai during the reign of (Yusuf) Kharifein against Sila may lend some credence to the chronology used by Berre.

Where things become messier is Nachtigal's research in this area during the 19th century. Nachtigal's list appears to have been rather different from what was supplied to the French colonial officers or administrators. For example, there is no one clearly named Gitar in Berre's list. Yet someone of that name was, in one king list, the first Daju ruler in Darfur. As if things were not already confusing, another informant indicated that the earliest Daju king was named Kosber. The apparent absence of these names in the list shared by Berre may be the result of a difference in using Daju or Arabic names for the same people. Alternatively, the list shared in the 20th century colonial era may have wished to omit "pagan" ancestors. After all, Nachtigal's list given to him by a Sila prince indicated 6 of the Daju kings based at Jebel Marra were pagans. Perhaps the rulers in the 19th century were less concerned with claiming ancestry through Yemen and the uncle of Muhammad?

Fortunately, Nachtigal and Berre's lists do provide some context for the enigmatic references to the Daju in medieval Arabic sources. While Berre's list presents the rulers as being of Arab descent and migrating to the north of Darfur, sometime from 892-1212 in the reckoning of Berre, he also places them at "Djebel Morrah" from 1212-1417. This period of the Daju sultans at Jebel Marra fits the medieval Arabic references mentioning the "Taju" or "Tajuwa" in this general area from the 1100s-1400s. If Uri was a Daju royal town or settlement, perhaps that represents the time in the north of Darfur reported by Berre? Keeping in mind that the amount of time Berre assigns to the time spent in the north of Darfur is not exact, one may surmise that the early Daju kings were based at Uri and perhaps the settlement of Samna by the late 12th century. 

For reasons not entirely clear, although perhaps related to a desire to find a more secure base, away from possible interference from Kanem or the medieval Nubian states, the Daju kings moved to Jebel Marra in central Darfur. Evidence for an interest in this region from medieval Kanem is detected in the writing of Ibn Sa'id. According to him, the "Zaghawa" and "Tajuwa" were subjects of Kanem. To Ibn Sa'id, a 'town' or region called Tajuwa represented the capital of the "Zaghawa" where Islam had started to spread. Later on, however, Ibn Sa'id's work seems to acknowledge that another group of "Tajuwa" (Daju?) were pagans residing in mountainous and desert terrains. This "Tajuwa" group was said to be refractory to the sultan of Kanem. Although Ibn Sa'id's description of the region is contradictory and must be used cautiously, there seems to be some overlap with the Daju based in Jebel Marra in the 1200s. Conflating them with the Zaghawa could have been due to the Zaghawa being better known in external Arabic sources, or possibly an alliance between some Zaghawa groups and the Daju against Kanem's expansion. 

Once established in Jebel Marra, presumably by the late 1200s, the other Arabic references are enigmatic on this polity or state. To Ibn Khaldun, the Tajuwa were simply a sort of "Zaghawa." For al-Maqrizi, however, more information is reported on them. They were apparently known for working in stone, which correlates with archaeological ruins of stone constructions in Darfur. Supposedly, their land or territory began at a place called Tukama, perhaps a locality near their base in Jebel Marra. Assuming al-Maqrizi's information was contemporaneous with his times, the Daju polity had also engaged in a number of wars against a people called Wathku. One is tempted to read this as perhaps a rival polity or an area frequently raided by the Daju rulers, perhaps located in Darfur or a neighboring region. If the list provided by one Sila prince is accurate, six pagan Daju kings ruled from Jebel Marra. These kings could easily have reigned from Jebel Marra for much of the period when the Daju kings were based there by the late 1200s. According to Tunjur oral traditions in Kanem, these Daju kings subsisted on the plundering of their neighbors. Yet knowledge of it from as far away as the Mamluk Sultanate suggests it was involved in wider trade networks.

Ultimately, the earlier history of the Daju in Darfur is not remembered in great detail in the Sila of Berre's time. Indeed, one could even question the existence of a continuous dynastic line across time and space from their period in Darfur to the sultans of Dar Sila. But some of Berre's data and regnal years could easily fit the general timeline of the Daju sultans in Darfur. Perhaps Uri became the commercial city or center whilst Jebel Marra became a political capital by the end of the 13th century. By the 16th century, however, Darfur had fallen under the suzerainty of a Tunjur, Ahmed el-Maqur. Apparently, for much of this period, the Daju kings were based in a region south of Geneina, Djebel Kadjano. This was likely the period when the "Dagio" were counted among the subjects of Uri, identified by Anania in the late 1500s. An earlier, smaller Daju presence in Sila to the west is hinted at by Berre, and claimed by Tunjur tradition in Kanem. 

In summation, the data provided by Berre is intriguing and provocative. It raises questions about a tighter chronology through the genealogies provided by the royal court in the colonial era. On the other hand, the names seem difficult to reconcile with what Nachtigal reported. Unfortunately, Nachtigal did not provide complete lists from the data he collected. But from what he reported, it would appear to enumerate different Daju dynasts than the one produced in the 20th century. Further, one Daju prince's list recognized pagan rulers from their Jebel Marra period. When juxtaposed with the medieval Arabic sources, the traditions nonetheless corroborate a possible Daju presence at Uri as well as their base in Jebel Marra. Relations with Kanem in the 13th century, particularly during and after the reign of Dunama Dibalemi, were potentially a source of friction in which the Daju rulers moved further away, building a new political center in Jebel Marra. 

The King of Bagirmi

Although he is occasionally hard to understand due to the audio quality, a king of Bagirmi appeared in a Chadian media interview in 2020 to discuss the history of his kingdom. He answers a number of questions about the history of the kingdom, the development of Massenya, the dignitaries of the court, religious dignitaries, and other topics. As an incumbent king discussing these questions, this is as close to an "official" version of events one is likely to encounter.

Mbang Burkomanda I: Bagirmi's 17th Century Rise

Lancer of the Sultan of Begharmi.

          Investigating the history of Bagirmi before the 19^th century is an arduous task. Due to the lack of detailed sources on the history of this part of the Chad Basin before the 1800s, Bagirmi receives less attention than its more famous neighboring polities, Kanem and Borno. Moreover, the 19^th and 20^th centuries provide far richer source materials, consisting of travel reports, al-Tunisi’s account of Sabun’s invasion of Bagirmi, and a plethora of colonial-era publications and reports. This material, naturally, makes it far easier to research Bagirmi in the 1800s whilst its earlier period remains somewhat shadowy. In an attempt to explore early Bagirmi history, this brief article will analyze the reign of mbang Burkomanda I of Bagirmi, whose reign has been tentatively dated c. 1635-1665 by Gustav Nachtigal. In spite of the paucity of written sources from this time, one can triangulate various traditions from Bagirmi, Wadai and its neighbors to create a fuller narrative of Burkomanda’s reign. Moreover, Burkomanda I’s reign was part of a much larger trend of dynamic political leadership across much of the Chad Basin and the Central Sudan in the 1600s. Indeed, Burkomanda’s reign overlapped with a period of political change and unrest to the east of Lake Chad, one which Bagirmi endeavored to profit from through far-flung raids and political interventions. Symbolically and materially, this was represented by the erection of brick walls around the palace in Massenya, cementing the ascent of the mbang in the wider region.

A Commentary on the Sources

          Whilst a few important works have been written by Anglophone and Francophone scholars on Bagirmi’s royal genealogy, much remains to be done. Even so, studies of the kingdom’s cosmological symbolism, political structure or its model of predatory accumulation have been produced. Still, little has been done to advance the study of pre-1800 Bagirmi. John Lavers, in a brief essay published in Annals of Borno tentatively sketched this lengthy period of Bagirmi history (c. 1500-1800), but largely repeated Nachtigal. Besides Lavers, of course, many colonial-era writers wrote studies on Bagirmi kingship, history, the Barma language, or the specific Melfi district. But few have been able to advance beyond this due to the contradictions in the oral traditions, which all the sources ultimately rely upon. In other words, unless new textual sources come to light, historians will not progress from Nachtigal’s schematic view of Bagirmi history.[1] Indeed, some scholars, such as Viviana Pâques, have even gone as far as to challenge simple assumptions of linear historical narratives in the oral materials. In a move that recalls the ways in which Zuidema interpreted the Spanish cronistas on the history of the Incas, Pâques seems to believe that much of what is reported in the traditions reported to Nachtigal, Barth, and others is ultimately tied to a mythological and cosmological order of thinking.

            However, close examination of the various 19^th century and colonial-era reports and texts can be triangulated for a deeper understanding of Burkomanda I’s reign. For instance, the various lists of Bagirmi kings produced by Nachtigal, Escayrac de Lauture, Barth, Lanier, and Palmer can be subjected to greater scrutiny. This can unveil commonalities and patterns.[2] Using Henri Carbou’s writings on the Bulala and Wadai, as well as al-Tunisi, highlight some of Wadai’s traditions as relevant for reconstructing Bagirmi history. Abadie, Palmer, Tubiana, Barkindo, and Hagenbucher on the history of Bagirmi’s neighbors and rival polities can shed further light. For example, a number of Bagirmi-oriented sources allude to ephemeral reigns of Wadai kings usually omitted from the Wadai kings lists. By using the general dates for Wadai, the Bulala sultans in Fitri, Mandara, as well as Kanem and Borno, one can better contextualize the events associated with Burkomanda’s reign. In addition, utilizing these sources permits a likely more accurate reading of Bagirmi’s attempts to assert itself in a politically dynamic Chad Basin and Central Sudan during the 1600s.

Mbang Burkomanda I’s Rise to Power

          Although little is known of Burkomanda’s early life, he is intriguingly remembered by the name of his mother, Aisa Bele. Furthermore, he was reportedly the son of Omar, who reigned from c. 1608-1625 in Nachtigal’s chronology. Surprisingly, Burkomanda was tchiroma during the reign of his uncle, Dalai (r. 1625-1635).[3] One can surmise from this that Burkomanda’s mother may have hailed from a powerful faction or family in Bagirmi, if Burkomanda’s maternal kin helped him succeed his uncle.

          Burkomanda also benefited from the political reforms and accomplishments of Abdallah (r. 1568-1608). This powerful mbang promoted Islamic reforms in Bagirmi’s state structure and created several powerful posts held by individuals of slave origin. Indeed, Nachtigal seemingly believed that the powerful military officer, the fatsha, was held by a slave since the time of Abdallah. This may have been done to weaken the influence of brothers, uncles and other relations in Bagirmi’s royal disputes and military leadership. Abdallah was also believed by Nachtigal to have completely reversed the tributary relationship with the Bulala sultans, too. By 1608, this seminal Bagirmi ruler was allegedly responsible for imposing a small tribute on Middogo and receiving annual presents from the Bulala, Logon, and Kousseri.[4]

          In short, Bagirmi had already demonstrated signs of greater political centralization and expansion during the reign of Abdallah. Indeed, this may have triggered a campaign from Borno’s Idris b. Ali (r. 1564-1596) which led to his death.[5] Undoubtedly, Burkomanda benefitted from the reforms of his grandfather and may have sought to surpass his predecessor, Dalai, who was less successful in his military raid against the Musgo (Musgun).[6] Burkomanda later succeeded in expanding the scale of military actions, intervened in Fitri, and even struck Borno territory in Kawar.

Raiding Far and Wide for Three Years

          Believed to have begun a long series of campaigns soon after his reign began, Burkomanda led his troops far and wide. Targeting Burlum, Bayo, and Bolongo districts, Burkomanda threatened the Kenga. Crossing to Middogo and Fitri, Burkomanda went even further afield. His troops crossed Batha and the Bahr el-Ghazal to Kanem, then moved to the Karka region. Then, Bagirmi raiders struck Borku and Kawar, before passing to the south and plundering the Shuwa in the Kotoko principalities. This was followed by another attack, this time against Mandara. Fellata to the south of Mandara were also targeted before Burkomanda camped his troops in Musgo territory. Due to the wishes of his soldiers to return, Burkomanda eventually agreed.[7] Given that tradition remembers this taking place over the course of three years, one must ask why the ruler of Bagirmi was eager to launch several punitive raids and actions against Bagirmi’s neighbors. Given the volatile conditions in Kanem around this time and the formation of Wadai, perhaps in c. 1635 (to use Nachtigal’s chronology), one can best interpret Burkomanda’s actions as an attempt to profit from and exert Bagirmi’s status as a regional power.

Beginning with Kanem, a political vacuum made raids and possible expansion attractive. The Bulala sultans were defeated by the Tunjur and were no longer relevant here. Borno, whose ruler, Umar b. Idris, likely appointed Dala Afuno to oversee Kanem around this time, relied on the alifas to ensure the tribute from Kanem. However, Dala Afuno was remembered in Kanem for having to wage war on various groups to receive any tribute. Indeed, Dala Afuno had to fight the Tubu, Daganas, El-Lassalas, Shuwas and Koukas to the west of Lake Fitri to pay tribute.[8]

Besides trouble receiving tribute, conflict with the recently arrived Tunjur, migrating after Wadai’s foundation in c. 1635, soon arose. Tunjur tradition, according to Gros, remembers conflict between the Tunjur and Bulala occurring at Mao during the time of Dawud’s grandson, Smain. While the Tunjur eventually seized Mao, Tunjur tradition specifically named their leader, Ramadan, as dying in conflict with the Dala Afuno.[9] In other words, Kanem during the 1630s was politically volatile and unstable as the first alifa sent by the Sayfawa was engaged in conflict with various groups refusing to pay tribute. Sensing this insecurity and instability, Burkomanda may have viewed Kanem as relatively easy to raid. This would explain why he was able to reach beyond to Borku and Kawar.

As for the raids on Borku and Kawar, one sees another aspect of Bagirmi’s long-term regional aspirations. Due to its geographic position, the kingdom lacked direct access to towns in the southern Sahara used for profitable trans-Saharan trade. Bagirmi needed access to these to become less dependent on Borno for North African, European, and other goods. Thus, it is likely Burkomanda envisioned long-term acquisitions to the far north.[10] Lavers was correct to note this possible motive for Burkomanda’s actions, perhaps aiming to maintain Kanem’s openness for commerce or to assert Bagirmi control over routes to the north.[11] The ultimate failure of this strategy may be explained by the distance involved and the eventual restoration of Sayfawa authority in Kanem through the consolidation of the alifas. Nonetheless, memories of this Bagirmi raid in Bilma were vivid enough when Maurice Abadie reported it. In Kawar tradition, however, the Bagirmi attack which resulted in a massacre of the town’s population was the result of a Bulala attack.[12] This may have been a result of Burkomanda’s close relationship with the Bulala sultans in Fitri, particularly as his sister, Zara, was married to the Bulala ruler.

Afterwards, Burkomanda’s forces moved south and west. Attacks against the Shuwa certainly included many cattle and horses among the booty. The assault directed against Mandara, which may have been ruled by Abale at the time, was probably inspired by Mandara expansion into the Musgo (Musgun) territories. Burkomanda’s goal was undoubtedly intended to minimize the expansion of rival polities into Bagirmi’s own raiding zones and tributary regions. Mandara, at the time not yet Islamic, was possibly also attacked by Borno during the reign of Ali b. Umar (c. 1639-1677). This suggests that Mandara’s rulers were expansionist at this time or threatening its peer polities. In fact, according to Barkindo, Bagirmi’s attack “appears to have had the purpose of checking Wandala expansion into what was assumed by Bagirmi, to be her own area of influence.”[13]

Lastly, Burkomanda’s whirlwind campaigns included the Fitri region for an important reason. Heading toward that direction was important for the alliance between the Bulala sultans and Bagirmi at this time. Sealed through the marriage of Burkomanda’s sister to the Bulala sultan, this seemingly developed after the Bulala already established the dynasty in the Fitri region, after defeating the Kuka. Bulala oral traditions attribute this to a half-Tubu Bulala prince, Djil Esa Tubo, or Djili Esa Toubo. According to traditions not cited by Carbou, this Djil Esa Tubo actually lived in Bagirmi with his mother for some time. If so, it is no wonder that Djil Esa Toubou was likely the Bulala ruler who married Burkomanda’s sister. He was already raised there and probably connected to Bagirmi elites.[14] Carbou, presumably drawing on oral traditions as well as the earlier work of Nachtigal, provides strong evidence for a Bulala-Bagirmi alliance around the time of Burkomanda, confirmed through the marriage of Burkomanda’s sister to Djil Esa Tubo. This, in turn, explains why Burkomanda may have included the Fitri area in his lengthy military excursions during his reign.

By contextualizing this seemingly random series of attacks within the wider political changes affecting Kanem as well as the foundation of Wadai to the east, one can perceive how Bagirmi’s actions were likely done in response to a politically volatile moment. Burkomanda sought to strengthen his position within the Central Sudan through raids, political expansion, and achieving long-term economic goals through access to Kawar and Borku. Attacking Mandara due to the latter’s expansion into Musgun lands was designed to ensure Bagirmi’s own sphere of influence there and source of captives. Bagirmi interests in Fitri were tied to their relationship with the Bulala and, perhaps, a desire to keep an eye on developments further east in Wadai.

The Later Years of Burkomanda I

Unfortunately, the remainder of Burkomanda I’s reign becomes much harder to contextualize. Besides campaigns against the Sarua and Ndamm about 3 years later, little else is known, except for a war with Wadai. Nonetheless, one can detect Burkomanda’s continued interests in expansion and promoting his own position across the region with brick walls for the palace. A later war with Waday suggests Bagirmi was, at this time, still a stronger power.

 Nachtigal, one of the better sources, wrote of subsequent campaigns led by the mbarma and fatsha. Directed against the Sarua and Ndamm, they were not especially successful.[15] Burkomanda’s later execution of his fatsha and mbarma due to a small offense is not explained by Nachtigal but may be connected to this. Perhaps their failure to achieve success like Burkomanda’s earlier campaigns aroused his anger. Or the two were involved in a plot. Given the vast military authority these figures held, it is difficult to imagine Burkomanda ordering their execution on a simple offense. Lack of success in military ventures or a political conflict may have been part of it.

Developments in architecture or the material expression of royal authority also occurred at this time. Burkomanda appears to have been the first to construct a brick wall for the palace in Massenya. According to Nachtigal, at least.[16] The use of brick for royal or elite structures has a longer history in Kanem and Borno, areas which influenced the development of the Bagirmi state. To see them used here in Burkomanda’s reign must be interpreted as an expression of the state’s political ascent in the Central Sudan. After all, besides Bagirmi, the use of fired-brick had been practiced by the Bulala and Sayfawa, rival dynasties which had once dominated Burkomanda’s polity. By employing them in his own palace, Burkomanda demonstrated Bagirmi’s ascending status as a Sudanic power.[17]

Finally, Bagirmi’s war with Waday during Burkomanda’s reign raises more tantalizing questions. Sparked by Waday’s attacks on the Bulala state in Fitri, which led to the capture of Burkomanda’s sister, they clearly indicate the importance of the Fitri area for Wadai and Bagirmi. Nachtigal wrote that Burkomanda freed his sister after a battle at Rabbana on the west bank of the Fitri.[18] Carbou, on the other hand, saw a possible Kuka role in fostering a Waday attack in Fitri, perhaps to force the Bulala sultans out of the region.[19]

With Lanier, likely drawing from Escayrac de Lauture, one learns more about Wadai’s leader during this war. Apparently, Wadai’s troops were led by a king named Mohamed ez Zaouni, who supposedly attacked twice. In the second attack, at Middogo, Wadai forces captured Burkomanda’s sister. But Burkumanda was able to “refouler les Ouadaiens.”[20] In Escayrac de Lauture’s version of events, Burkomanda’s victory against Wadai took place at a place called Sadao. His version emphasized that after the capture of Wadai’s Mohammed-Zaouni, “qui avait occupé le trône pendant six mois,” Wadai replaced him with a king named Issa. But, tellingly, any war with Bagirmi was finished by an unspecified epidemic.[21] In other words, Bagirmi not only captured the Wadai king, but the conflict continued until an outbreak of disease or pestilence forced an end.[22]

Unfortunately, none of the Wadai king lists mention this Mohammed-Zaouni or Issa, but Lauture’s list of Wadai rulers places them after Abd el-Kerim and a king named Edris (Idris).[23] As it appears quite likely that the standard lists of Wadai kings tend to omit names of rulers who only lasted briefly on the throne, Mohammed-Zaouni and Issa may have been very brief rulers sometime in the 1650s or 1660s. Indeed, Lauture’s list places Issa right before Saleh-Dered, clearly omitting many Wadai kings of the 1700s. Another writer, Carbou, likewise noted at least one king often not included in the Wadai kingslist: El Djezam, who succeeded Kharif.[24] If, as Lauture indicates, Mohamed-Zaouni and Edris ruled for less than a year while Issa reigned for under 2 years, it is possible they briefly occupied the throne after c. 1655, when Abd el-Kerim likely died (according to Nachtigal’s chronology).[25]

Undoubtedly, much of Burkomanda’s relatively long reign of 30 years has not survived in traditions. Nevertheless, the later annals of his reign included the use of brick walls, the victory against Wadai, and Burkomanda’s actions regarding the Surua and Ndamm. Of course, the executions of his fatsha and mbarma raise a number of tantalizing questions, too. The victory against Wadai raises important manners related to the known chronology and list of kings of this state in the 17^th century. Despite the unexplained factors in the rest of his reign, the use of brick attests to a regional aspiration to status and power in the Central Sudan. Likewise, the ruler’s continued interest in Bagirmi’s expansion and influence in neighboring peoples demonstrates an ongoing interest in “predatory accumulation.”

Conclusions on Bagirmi in the Pivotal 17^th Century

Despite the limited written sources for this period in Bagirmi history, deep investigations into the earlier centuries of Bagirmi’s political history are feasible. Endeavors to make sense of the contradictions must keep in mind the importance of looking to traditions from neighboring societies and rival polities, too. Whilst some contradictions and gaps will remain unresolved, one can approach a holistic view of pivotal Bagirmi mbang reigns prior to the 19^th century.

This tentative analysis of Burkomanda I’s reign was an attempt to do so. By contextualizing what is reported about Bagirmi’s neighbors and rival states in the middle decades of the 17^th century, one can make sense of (or at least approach a reasonable interpretation) how Bagirmi, for some time during the dynamic 17^th century, asserted itself as a major state in the Central Sudan. This was accomplished or attempted through military raids and wars, the adoption of brick buildings, interventions in Fitri and Kanem, and Bagirmi success against Wadai. Future scholarship on this period of Bagirmi history must examine more closely the question of religion, particularly in the aftermath of Umar b. Idris of Borno’s termination of the first Kalumbardo. Subsequent research must thoroughly revisit the list of kings for Waday, the Bulala in Fitri, the alifas of Kanem and the Tunjur to better understand how the Bulala sultans losing Kanem led to Bagirmi’s attempt to fill a political void.

---

[1] Of course, Nachtigal’s retelling of Bagirmi history was based on what may have been relatively informal conditions in the 1870s. His claim to have spoken with multiple descendants of elite lineages in Bagirmi who could recount specific details of various campaigns their forebears participated in throughout Bagirmi history is undoubtedly useful. However, like Sarmiento de Gamboa, whose interviews with various panaqa Inca descent groups was methodogically sound, descendants of different branches of the royal family and elite groups can disagree on many relevant historical questions. One wonders if, despite Nachtigal’s travels to Bagirmi predating European colonialism, his elite informants told him contradictory narratives about their past or the larger history of the Bagirmi royal dynasty. If so, Nachtigal’s retelling of it is far too “neat” and free of contradictions.

[2] See Alain Vivien, “Essai de concordance de cinq tables généalogiques du Baguirmi (Tchad)” in Journal de la Société des Africanistes, 1967, tome 37, fascicule 1. pp. 25-40.

[3] See Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan Vol. 3, 405. In other kings lists of Bagirmi, Burkomanda I is not listed, or he is conflated with Burkomanda Tad Lele, who reigned in the 1700s. See H. Lanier, “L’ancien royaume du Bagirmi” in Bulletin du Comité de l'Afrique française 35, 1925 for an example of Burkomanda possibly listed as Osman, succeeding Omar (Oumar) and reigning 1612-1631. Escayrac de Lauture also evinced signs of confusion in his list of Bagirmi kings. For instance, his list of Bagirmi kings places Bourkoumanda, or Osman, after Abdala (Abdallah), and only assigns him a reign of 9 years. Yet his informant, presumably the Shaykh Ibrahim he met in Cairo who was believed to be a relative of the Bagirmi royal line, reported to him that Burkomanda defeated Wadai and captured their king. See Escayrac de Lauture, Mémoire sur le Soudan, géographie naturelle et politique, histoire et ethnographie, moeurs et institutions de l'Empire des Fellatas, du Bornou, du Baguermi, du Waday, du Dar-Four, rédigé, d'après des renseignements entièrement nouveaux et accompagné d'une esquisse du Soudan oriental, 74-75.

[4] Ibid., 328, 403-404. For a different perspective on Bagirmi-Bulala relations, see Henri Carbou, La région du Tchad et du Ouadai, Premier Tome, 298. In Carbou’s mind, it was the Kuka who once imposed tribute on the Fulani in what became Bagirmi during the 1400s. However, given the likely Fitri origins of the Bulala sultans ruling Kanem, they too may have exercised a loose suzerainty or influence on the Kuka state in the 1400s and early 1500s.

[5] John Lavers, “An Introduction to the History of Bagirmi,” Annals of Borno 1, 31.

[6] Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan Vol. 3, 404.

[7] Ibid., 405.

[8] See Landeroin, “Notice historique,” in Documents scientifiques de la Mision Tilho, 380.

[9] See Behique Dunama, “Siècles Obscurs: The Alifas of Kanem and the Tunjur in the 17th and 18th Centuries,”  https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/11/siecles-obscurs-alifas-of-kanem-and.html. Tunjur traditions in Kanem suggest conflict with the Dala Afuno and Ramadan occurred in c. 1735, which is likely a century too late. A c. 1635 date is more plausible given the genealogy of the Kanem alifas based in Mao.

[10] See Heinrich Barth, Travels and Discoveries (1890), 86.

[11] John Lavers, “An Introduction to the History of Bagirmi,” 34.

[12] Maurice Abadie, Afrique centrale: la colonie du Niger, 133. This could also be possible evidence of Bagirmi’s forces incorporating additional soldiers from their Bulala allies.

[13] See Bawuro M. Barkindo, The Mandara Sultanate to 1902: History of the Evolution, Development and Collapse of a Central Sudanese Kingdom, 107, 111-112.

[14] Henri Carbou, La région du Tchad et du Ouadai, Tome Premier, 307-308, 311. While Hagenbucher’s “Notes sur les Bilala” is essential reading, he dates Djil Esa Tubo to c. 1536 based on a problematic Bulala royal genealogy. Hagenbucher’s dates are too problematic and difficult to reconcile with the wider regional history of Fitri, Kanem, and Bagirmi during the 1530s. Instead, Djil Esa Tubo was more likely to arrive in the Fitri area during the 1630s, which matches the general c. 1630 dating for the arrival of the Tunjur in Kanem. After their defeat at the hands of the incoming Tunjur, the Bulala may have spent some time in Massoa, to the east of the Bahr el-Ghazal, before moving to Fitri. Whether or not the Bulala were asked to intervene there against the Kuka is unclear, but it could very well have involved Bagirmi military assistance. As for the question of Bagirmi interests in Kanem possibly being related to their ties to the Bulala sultans, the question remains ambiguous. Bagirmi sources certainly suggest the Bulala were reduced to vassals or tributaries, so it would seem Bagirmi’s actions in Kanem and Kawar were not motivated by a desire to restore the Bulala sultanate in Kanem. For a reference to Bagirmi’s overt conquest of the Bulala, see H. Lanier, “L’ancien royaume du Baguirmi,” 460. According to Lanier, who confused Burkomanda I with Burkomanda Tad Lele, “Il fit la guerre au sultans des Boulalas, conquit son pays, le soumit et donna à son nouveau vassal une de ses soeurs en mariage.” Either way, Burkomanda exerted some degree of influence over the Bulala in Fitri.

[15] Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan Vol. 3, 405.

[16] Ibid., 406. For a speculative attempt at contextualizing the usage of bricks in Massenya, see Behique Dunama, “Speculating on Massenya and Bricks in Bagirmi,” https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/12/speculating-on-massenya-and-bricks-in.html.

[17] Religion may have provided an additional avenue for Bagirmi to assert its position within the Sudan. Umar b. Idris (c. 1619-1639) of Borno’s destruction of the first Kalumbardo forced Shaykh Waldede to flee for his life, returning to Bagirmi where the town of Bidderi had a long history of ties to Islamic scholarship (and the rulers of Bagirmi). See Behique Dunama, “Umar b. Idris (r.1619-1639) and the First Kalumbardo,” https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/09/umar-b-idris-r1619-1639-and-first.html. Though Nachtigal and other sources do not mention this in the context of Burkomanda’s reign, it would be interesting to explore how Umar b. Idris’s assault against the first Kalumbardo may have had political repercussions in Bagirmi. After all, if Waldede came from Bagirmi and had long-established ties to Bagirmi, including one associated with designing the palace, would Bagirmi’s rulers continue to look positively upon the Sayfawa? In terms of their own state’s Islamic legitimacy, they may have began to harbor more animosity against Borno’s ruler. Even more intriguing in this context is Wadai tradition linking the founder of the state, Abd el-Kerim, with Kalumbardo’s other leader as well as Bidderi in Bagirmi.

[18] Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan, Vol 3., 405.

[19] Henri Carbou, La région du Tchad et du Ouadai, Tome Premier, 312.

[20] Henri Lanier, “L’ancien royaume du Baguirmi,” 460.

[21] Comte Escayrac de Lauture, Mémoire sur le Soudan, 74-75.

[22] The only reference to anything close to a plague early in Wadai history is a cattle pestilence and drought during the reign of Ya’qub Arus (1681-1707, in Nachtigal’s chronology). See Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan, Vol. 4, 208.

[23] Comte Escayrac de Lauture, Mémoire sur le Soudan, 77.

[24] Henri Carbou, La région du Tchad et du Ouadai, Tome Premier, 111.

[25] Comte Escayrac de Lauture, Mémoire sur le Soudan, 77.

Thoughts on Les principautés Kotoko: essai sur le caractère sacré de l'autorité

 Les principautés Kotoko: essai sur le caractère sacré de l'autorité by Annie M.D. Lebeuf is rather difficult to "use" for those interested in the relations of the Kotoko states and Kanem-Borno. Despite Lebeuf's (and that of Griaule and her husband) work on both ethnographica and archaeological studies of the Lake Chad Basin, oral traditions are sadly vague on any kind of chronological precision. Consequently, Lebeuf engages in a deep discussion of myths heard in various Kotoko states, seeking to identify the symbolic meanings of these mythic origin tales. Doing so allows some insights into the nature of Kotoko cosmology and socio-political organization in the various principalities or states, like Logone-Birni or Makari. 

Unfortunately, this approach means that one is entering a terrain in which more exact notions of the historical development of the Kotoko states are elusive. The "Sao" period remembered as preceding the states as we know them is recalled through myth. Likewise, the long lists of names of Sao and post-Sao rulers of different Kotoko towns are just that, a list of names. Most, at least as understood by Lebeuf, have little or nothing specifically remembered about them beyond their names. As a result, Kotoko royal genealogies and oral traditions sadly cannot fill in much of the gap in the history of relations between the states of the Sayfawa (Kanem, and then Borno) and the so-called "Sao" or Kotoko principalities. 

Nonetheless, one can glean some useful nuggets of information from Kotoko traditions. The royal families of Makari and Afade, for instance, were said to be of Kanuri Muslim extraction. Indeed, the first Muslim ruler of Afade, Assana or Meskeri Tchigo, was said to be the brother of Ousseini of Makari. To what extent they actually were of Kanuri origin is unclear, but Lebeuf's ethnographic observations often found foreign maternal ancestry among the Kotoko princes of recent times. More intriguing is the claim to Bulala origin of the first Muslim king of Goulfeil. Even if not entirely accurate, it attests to an instance of Bulala interest and possible expansion into this region south of Lake Chad, presumably during the 1300s-1500s.  Likewise, the Babalia ties of Gawi and through them to Yao in the Lake Fitri region is another interesting tradition, although difficult to place chronologically.  One can certainly detect the use of Kanuri titles and influences in some of the Kotoko states, perhaps beginning or expanding after the rise of Muslim dynasties. For instance, the possible Kanuri influence in Makari and Afade was certainly established by the 1500s, although Borno traditions point to contacts by the 1300s (see H.R. Palmer's work for the relevant traditions). This influence even affected Kotoko myth to some extent, with the bull, turtle, and primordial waters story appearing here. But Kotoko traditions remain very ambiguous when it comes to the specific details of relations with their northern neighbors from Kanem and Borno. 

In other respects, there are broadly shared regional commonalities among the Kotoko states, Bagirmi, Wadai, Kanem and Borno. For example, the central role of the nguva, or dendal, is shared between the Kotoko towns and cities of Borno. The centrality of the palace is also important, although in this region the Kotoko masons did not apply brick. Instead, their palace complexes and monumental gudu or guti were made of earth. Nonetheless, the emphasis on monumental architecture that, to Lebeuf at least, symbolized the meeting of the sky and the earth, could match the role of monumental mosques used in Wadai, Borno, and Bagirmi. To what extent moieties and quarter systems seen in Kotoko towns correspond with similar notions in Kanem, Borno, Wadai and Bagirmi is a topic we shall have to explore in the future.

What of the Kotoko states themselves? To Lebeuf, analysis of myths of origin and their symbolism provide the key. The foundation myths often refer to hunters and fishmen, the fusion of distinct populations in one region, and the sacrifice of children by representatives of the two populations. Animal symbolism is also key here, with the varan and serpents or other animals often appearing in tales. The "Sao" are accorded an important place here in these origin stories, often associated with the founders of towns like Makari. Over time, larger towns existed as agglomerations of communities walled their settlements after unifying. The Kotoko princes, to use Lebeuf's vocabulary, were sometimes seen as descendants of outsiders who forged alliances with the local people. This is perhaps why the gumsu was often chosen from among the descendants of the first families of a town or city, to maintain this pact between the dynastic line and the original settlers. Interestingly, however, succession in the Kotoko states usually passed to sons of slave women. Complex age grades were used as well as the moieties or quarter system to organize the people of the towns themselves. 

Over time, some began to increase their power over their neighbors, but the Kotoko states were never unified into a single polity. Instead, 3 broader sub-regions appear, with Makari as the dominant state in Mandague, Mser led by Kousseri, and Lagouane under Logone-Birni domination. This was not always the case, since Houlouf was remembered as once being a powerful state. A close study of references to the Kotoko states in Bagirmi, Bulala, Borno and Mandara traditions and chronicles will undoubtedly shed more light on this.

Overall, Lebeuf's work remains important for attempting to center Kotoko myths, symbolism and ethnographic fieldwork. Undoubtedly, archaeology will remain central for understanding the deep history of this region and the so-called "Sao" often associated with the early period of the Kotoko states. Nonetheless, a thorough examination, comparison and analysis of references to the Kotoko states in the historical traditions of its neighbors can shed more light. Sadly, Lebeuf scarcely attempted this. Except for some more recent history still partly recalled in Kotoko traditions on the expansionist activities of Logone-Birni by the 1760s, little else is remembered in detail.

The Question of Manan and Early Kanem

Dierk Lange's reconstruction of a map of the Lake Chad basin based on Ibn Sa'id (from "La région du lac Tchad d’après la géographie d’Ibn Saʿīd. Textes et cartes").

Manan, the earliest known capital of Kanem, remains an enigma. Its exact location remains unknown. Nor is there much information on the nature of this settlement or town from external Arabic sources. Oral traditions in Kanem and Borno shed little light on the matter, too. Revisiting the various sources on Manan, however, suggests its antiquity predated the 10th century. Moreover, by using what we know of later capitals in Kanem and Borno, it may be possible to reconstruct some of the characteristics of Manan. Doing so emphasizes the importance of continuity over time in the annals of Kanem and Borno. Of course, various changes took place over several centuries, but distinct features of the Kanembu, Kanuri, and various peoples living near Lake Chad persisted. In addition, reconsidering Manan as a political capital also requires rethinking what we know of early Kanem and how the consolidation of Kanem under a single dynasty required the unification of many peoples inhabiting the region.

Manan and Early Kanem in Medieval Sources

Naturally, one must begin with the medieval Arabic sources. Most of them are available in the Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, edited by Levtzion and Hopkins. The first to unambiguously allude to Kanem was al-Ya’qubi in the 800s. According to him, there was a Zaghawa kingdom in Kanem. He wrote, “Their dwellings are huts made of reeds and they have no towns.”[1] It is possible that a settlement later known as Manan already existed in this century, but al-Ya’qubi did not consider it a city due to all its structures being reed huts. Intriguingly, he also described another Zaghawa group, al-HWDN, with a king from the Zaghawa. Then he mentioned an enemy kingdom called Malal, “who hate the king of Kanim.”[2] Malal, ruled by a king called MYWSY, could have been a smaller polity later absorbed into Kanem. The place name, Malal, does recall Manan and, according to one spelling, M.lan.

Besides al-Ya’qubi, the next detailed accounts of Kanem are by al-Muhallabi from the late 900s (quoted by Yaqut). This author reported that the Zaghawa had 2 towns: Manan and Tarazki, both in the first clime at latitude 21 degrees. Yet their houses were still reed huts, including the palace of the king: “Their houses are all reed huts as is also the palace of their king, whom they exalt and worship instead of Allah.”[3] This source is important as the earliest to unambiguously name a city or town of Manan in Kanem. Although the source also expresses the idea of a multiplicity of Zaghawa, it is quite clear that it is Kanem being described. Moreover, a glimpse of how the king’s authority may have been seen and what counted as wealth can be gleaned from the evidence: the king’s wealth was counted in livestock like sheep, cattle, camels and horses. The latter is especially significant due to the importance of horses in Kanem’s military power. The subjects were also said to go naked or wear skins, while the king wore silk and woolen clothes.[4] Unfortunately, there is no clear indication of where Manan was located, but the site must have had access to trade routes through the Sahara and perhaps to the east.

After al-Muhallabi, al-Idrisi wrote about Manan. To this 12^th century geographer, Manan was 12 stages from Tamalma. According to al-Idrisi, “Manan is a small town without industry of any sort and little commerce. Its people breed camels and goats.”[5] This description suggests that Manan was quite small and about 8 days travel from Anjimi (Njimi, the capital of the Islamic Sayfawa rulers). Because he utilized sources from different time periods without reconciling their inconsistencies, one must interpret al-Idrisi cautiously. For instance, he also wrote that Manan was 13 stages away from the Tajuwa “town” which may have been an example of al-Idrisi inventing a town. He also claimed that Manan was where the “governor” of the country lived, who led an army mostly consisting of naked archers. This is a fascinating piece of information, but possibly evidence that al-Idrisi uncritically repeated outdated information. The reference to naked archers also suggests the Haddad, an artisanal caste group in Kanem who were known in much later times as the only people to use the bow and arrow.[6]

Last, but certainly not least, Ibn Sa’id wrote a detailed account of Kanem that drew heavily on the lost work of Ibn Fatima. The description of Kanem is that of the period of Dunama Dibalemi (c. 1210-1248). It is also thanks to Ibn Sa’id that we know Njimi was southeast of Manan. Apparently, the earlier Kanem capital was level with the angle of the Lake (Lake Chad) at longitude 51 degrees, latitude 13 degrees. Manan was specifically said to have been the capital of the pagan ancestors of Kanem’s king (in other words, the Duguwa branch of the Sayfawa). Ibn Sa’id also specifies that to the east of Manan wandered the Zaghawa and to their north, the Akawwar (presumably Teda-Daza groups in Kawar?).[7] Basically, Manan was to the southeast of Kawar (and south of the Tibesti Mountains and Borku) while to its southeast, Njimi was closer to Bahr al-Ghazal (40 miles away from this river). When one considers the higher water levels of Lake Chad in the first millennium of our era and the fact that the Bahr al-Ghazal was consistently flooded in the period from 900-1150, agricultural settlements could have thrived in Kanem.[8] Manan, located closer to Lake Chad than Njimi, would have made sense for a capital since it was closer to the areas from which the ancestors of the Sayfawa migrated: Tibesti, Borku, Kawar. At the time, it would have been able to support farmers, herders, and enjoyed closer proximity to the trans-Saharan routes. Naturally, shifting the capital to Njimi with Islamization may have been partly motivated by a desire for better agricultural land as the population moved toward greater sedentarism.

Considering Manan and Early Kanem in Today’s Scholarship

Moving into the modern era, where did scholars believe was Manan? Borno historian Muhammad Nur Alkali postulated a possible location in the Shitati region of Kanem. Some ambiguity can be seen in his attempt to locate it along the northeastern shores of Lake Chad yet also indicating a general location in the Shitati area.[9] When this region was visited by Nachtigal in the 1870s, it was in a part of Kanem that had become largely the terrain of nomadic groups. By this era, it did not neighbor Lake Chad but included numerous valleys. In total, more than 50 valleys could be found in Shitati, which also featured a natron lake. In Nachtigal’s time, most of the people residing in Shitati were Yuroa, Orabba, and Qadawa, the latter a Kanembu group of the Dibbiri with Daza ancestry. The Dibbiri, of course, appear early on in the Diwan since the mother of the first “black” mai, Salmama, was the son of a Dibbiri woman named Hawa.[10] Besides these aforementioned groups, some Kanembu and Danoa (Haddad) farmers also resided in the area. Most importantly, Nachtigal named a place called Maten el-Milah that was no longer part of Shitati. Instead, it consisted of valleys on the path to Borku.[11] It is likely a coincidence, but Manan was sometimes rendered as Matan in written Arabic sources. In the case of this place, Nachtigal reports that it was an Arabic name (Fountain of Salt) and not an indigenous one of deeper antiquity. In other words, Shitati may have once harbored the early capital of Kanem, but there is no smoking gun to irrefutably demonstrate it. In its favor is its location northwest of Njimi and proximity to Lake Chad, which enjoyed higher water levels over 1000 years ago.

Also worthy of consideration is the theory of H.R. Palmer. Palmer, a towering figure in colonial-era scholarship on Borno, was guilty of contemporary racial theories, shoddy or questionable linguistic connections, and sometimes lacking transparency for his sources. Nonetheless, Palmer did work with local elites to gather traditions or translate various manuscripts, meaning that his work is unavoidable for any serious interest in the history of Borno. In terms of Manan and early Kanem, he even gathered traditions (which appear to contain anachronisms) of Dugu’s alleged southerly campaign.[12] As for Manan, Palmer apparently connects it to the Kulu or Kuluwan region.[13] Since Madan or Malan appears to have been the place where the early mai Fune died, this is consistent with Manan as a royal capital. Against Palmer’s theory, however, is the area of Kuluwan between Kanem and Bagirmi. This is not consistent with medieval Arabic sources placing Manan to the northwest of Njimi. It was also the area where Katur, a successor of Fune, died, according to the Diwan. Ultimately, Palmer’s attempt to link Manan or Matan with the Kuluwan region is not persuasive and contradicted by the Diwan which places Manan (or M.lan) in Kanem.[14]

Manan, Malal, and Early Kanem

Besides Palmer, John Lavers also proposed an intriguing theory for early Kanem with relevance to Manan. Based on the brief description of Kanem by 9^th century author al-Ya’qubi, Lavers has suggested that in c. 872, Kanem had “Zaghawa” rulers but also competed with neighboring “Zaghawa” polities. One of these groups was called Hawdin, and another was Malal. Since the ruler of Malal was called Mayusi or Mai Wasi, and the Zaghawa king Kakarah (according to one reconstruction), is it possible that the rulers of Malal superseded the early rulers of Kanem and became the reigning dynasts?[15] This theory is, of course, based on the assumption that the title of the ruler of Malal was mai and since that is the title used by the kings of Kanem and Borno, Malal’s rulers may have replaced another polity and became the dominant power in what became known as Kanem. Of course, the absence of sufficient evidence limits its probability though it would possibly correlate with the M.lan (or Manan) mentioned in the Diwan as the place where Funa died. Assuming, of course, that M.lan is equivalent to Manan and possibly related to Malal.

This theory is likewise interesting if one accepts Terio’s notion that the Zaghawa king of Kanem named by al-Ya’qubi was actually the title kireh, used by the Zaghawa for kings.[16] Alternatively, the rulers of Malal may have intermarried with the “Zaghawa” or so-called Duguwa in Kanem, since the Diwan presents Dugu as the father of Funa, the mai who allegedly died in M.lan. Furthermore, Zaghawa traditions remember a Zaghawa king of Kanem named Douk Bourmè, presumably the same Dugu recalled in Kanuri girgams and the Diwan.[17] Since dating these figures is a hazardous exercise, one can only tentatively assign dates. If the excessive reign lengths in the Diwan are meant to refer to generations as well as to stretch the dynasty back to Sayf b. Dhi Yazan, we cannot be sure which kings are semi-legendary or when their reigns may have taken place.

Obviously, this makes any endeavor to tie the polities mentioned by al-Ya’qubi with the tentative chronology of Lange problematic. Yet Lange has written, “Un souverain du nom de Funa semble avoir régné au milieu du VIIIe siècle, Arsu à la fin du VIIIe et Katur au milieu du IXe siècle.”[18] If one accepts this mid-700s date for Funa, who died in a place called M.lan that may be Manan, then it is difficult to reconcile with the theory that Malal in the 870s was in conflict with Kanem and ruled by their own independent king. Unless one proposes that Funa died in a war with Malal sometime in the 700s or later traditionists merely fused the two dynastic lines together after their intermarriage, it is difficult to square with Lange’s suggested chronology for these “Duguwa” kings. Nonetheless, the possible Malal kingdom or polity as a rival of Kanem under the “Zaghawa” could be a reference to a fusion of Zaghawa, Teda-Daza, and Kanembu elements that occurred over several centuries, consolidating as a single dynasty with regional supremacy in the 900s or 1000s. Malal may, if the theory has any validity, have been a smaller polity of Kanembu-affiliated people whose capital was changed into Manan.

Concluding Thoughts

Clearly, the location of Manan is a subject of debate. The early medieval sources provide only glimpses of pre-Islamic Kanem and must be used cautiously. Indeed, due to some of these authors never actually seeing Kanem themselves, their reports are not based on direct experience. Nevertheless, they provide a few clues about how early Kanem developed and a rough idea of where Manan could have been.

Subsequent scholars from the colonial and postcolonial eras offered new theories, but without any definitive evidence to pinpoint exactly where Manan was. With the recent confirmation of Njimi’s likely location at Tié, and the general idea that Manan was to the northwest of Njimi, we can more confidently assert that it was closer to Lake Chad. This makes the theory of Muhammad Nur Alkali plausible. The more speculative theory proposed by Lavers could facilitate identifying the placement of Manan, too. Of course, our interpretation of it relies on the questionable assumption that Manan, Malal, and M.lan were designating the same place in the medieval Arabic sources and the Diwan. Such a theory could elucidate why Manan has been forgotten in Kanuri tradition, too.

In spite of its obscurity, Manan’s position as the earliest known capital of Kanem makes it significant in the growing sedentarization and consolidation of a powerful kingdom to the east of Lake Chad by the 9^th and 10^th centuries. While definitive proof remains elusive, the cumulative evidence suggests that Manan was an early political center northwest of Njimi, and possibly linked to the polity of Malal that appeared in the writings of al-Ya’qubi in the 800s. With future archaeological surveys and excavations, a more confident location for Manan can be found which could meaningfully change our perception of the origins of urbanism in Kanem.

---

[1] al-Ya’qubi in Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, 21. Some possible references to the area of Kanem may predate c. 872, but the earlier Arabic authors only use the name Zaghawa. This term may have been used very broadly for many different ethnolinguistic groups living between Nubia and the central lands of Black Africa. It is possible, nonetheless, for some Zaghawa groups to have lived as far west as Kanem in the 9^th century (or earlier) and interacted with groups more closely related to the modern Teda, Daza, Bideyat and Kanembu.

[2] Ibid. John Lavers has also proposed an interesting idea about this polity, although it remains purely conjectural without additional sources.

[3] Ibid., 171. The reference to the house of the king is important, even if it was built with reed and not the monumental type of architecture Kanem and Borno developed after Islamization. The town of Tarazki is also intriguing as it bears a resemble to the later Kanem town of Daniski.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 114. Earlier, al-Muhallabi reported that livestock and horses were the wealth of Kanem’s ruler.

[6] For more information on the Haddad, see Henri Carbou, La Région du Tchad et du Ouadaï. This group has been the subject of more than a few unlikely or highly problematic theories. Lange, for instance, has proposed identifying the Haddad or Danoa with the so-called Duguwa dynasty. There is perhaps some basis in this theory due to Haddad oral traditions remembering an early ancestor called Dana and the fact that the Haddad, an Arabic name, are referred to as Duu or Dugu by the Kanembu (See Edouard Conte, Marriage Patterns, Political Change). Contrary to the theory of a Banu Duku or Duguwa origin, the Haddad are remembered in oral traditions as sharing a common descent with the Bulala or perhaps with slaves or servile populations in Kanem during the period of Bulala rule. This theory, of course, requires deeper analysis but Carbou’s traditions of origins for the Haddad seem to only go as far back in time as the Bulala period. Interestingly, Nachtigal himself focused more on the N’Galma Dukko as a group descended from an early prince of the Sayfawa dynasty, perhaps Duku or the so-called “Duguwa” branch. See Sahara and Sudan Vol. 3.

[7] Ibn Sa’id in Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, 188-189.

[8] For information on the fluctuations in the levels of Lake Chad, see “Floods, Droughts, and Migrations: The Effects of Late Holocene Lake Level Oscillations and Climate Fluctuations on the Settlement and Political History in the Chad Basin” by Karsten Brunk and Detlef Gronenborn in Living with the Lake: Perspectives on History, Culture and Economy of Lake Chad. These authors have argued that the Bahr al-Ghazal was flooded throughout this period and the Sahel zone was semiarid and subhumid. But the Sudanic savannah lands would have been humid. Their theory that the center of early Kanem in c. 900 was the Bodele region is fascinating, but this seems too far north (and east) to help one determine Manan’s probable location.

[9] Muhammad Nur Alkali, Kanem-Borno Under the Sayfawa: A Study of the Origin, Growth and Collapse of a Dynasty, 24, 57. For yet another 20^th century scholar’s theory, see Zeltner’s Pages d’histoire du Kanem, which has suggested Manan was in the Egey region of Kanem.

[10] Dierk Lange, Le dīwān des sultans du (Kānem-)Bornū: Chronologie et histoire d'un royaume africain (de la fin du Xe siècle jusqu'à 1808), 70.

[11] Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan Vol. III, 65-68.

[12] See H.R. Palmer, Bornu Sahara and Sudan for several examples of similar types of stories, legends or traditions on the kings of Kanem and Borno. Included is one 1751 manuscript which traces the origin of the first Saif to Aghani, a land Palmer claims was the Zaghawa, called Aghna (Arna) by the Kanuri.

[13] H.R. Palmer, Sudanese Memoirs Vol. I, 7, 74-75.

[14] Dierk Lange, Le dīwān des sultans du (Kānem-)Bornū: Chronologie et histoire d'un royaume africain (de la fin du Xe siècle jusqu'à 1808), 66.

[15] John Lavers, “Kanem and Borno to 1808” in  Groundwork of Nigerian History, 189.  

[16] Abdelkerim Souleyman Terio, Origine et évolution des Zaghawa: Du royaume du Kanem aux Etats modernes (VIIIe-XXIe siècle), 94.

[17] Ibid., 89.

[18] Dierk Lange, Le dīwān des sultans du (Kānem-)Bornū: Chronologie et histoire d'un royaume africain (de la fin du Xe siècle jusqu'à 1808), 143.