The Early History of Gao and the Songhay: Trade, Power, and Islam along the Niger (AI)

What follows below is an attempt to use AI to write a short essay on a topic based on our notes. The notes in question were written based on several academic publications we read a few years ago. Sadly, the free version of ChatGPT was unable to reproduce proper citations before we used up the free access to the best version. Nonetheless, we thought it would be worthwhile to show what it is capable of doing with information we fed to it. After some time, we will ask it to revise this again using whatever additional sources it can access. A link to our notes that are the basis of this can be found here. 

The early history of the Songhay and the rise of Gao (known to medieval Arabic writers as Kawkaw) illustrate the development of one of West Africa’s earliest powerful political centers. Located along the Niger River at the point where Saharan caravan routes met fertile riverine settlements, Gao emerged as a dominant regional hub before and during the early second millennium CE. Arabic geographers, although writing from afar and often relying on merchant testimony, consistently presented Gao as a sovereign kingdom that exercised influence over multiple subject peoples. Archaeological evidence, particularly from Gao-Saney, reinforces this image by revealing craft specialization, foreign imports, and signs of urban stratification. Yet the limited availability of contemporary written sources means historians must critically combine archaeology, oral tradition, and later West African chronicles to reconstruct this period. Through this synthesis, a picture emerges of a culturally dynamic society grounded in indigenous traditions but strengthened by the adoption of Islam and long-distance trade.

Well before the rise of Gao as a trans-Saharan commercial center, the Niger Bend supported communities that relied on the river’s abundant resources. The Sorko, known as expert fishers and boatbuilders, and the Gow, skilled hunters of hippopotamus and other dangerous river animals, formed some of the earliest identifiable groups associated with Songhay. Their craft specialization facilitated trade along the river and created patterns of settlement that anchored early political formation. Matrilineal descent was a defining feature of these river societies. Authority passed not solely from father to son but through the mother’s lineage, which ensured that elite women played essential roles in validating leadership transitions. Religious life centered on spirits connected to water, the riverbed, and animal life. Kingship was sacred, and rulers derived legitimacy from their roles as intermediaries with supernatural forces. Such cultural foundations did not disappear with the arrival of Islam; instead, these Sudanic social structures shaped the ways Islam was received and practiced.

Songhay historical memory, preserved in later chronicles, places the earliest ruling seat at Kukiya, downriver from Gao. The Zuwa (or Za) dynasty, said to descend from a foreign ancestor or hero figure, represents the first political lineage acknowledged by tradition. Oral narratives speak of battles between these early kings and powerful river spirits, sometimes depicted as fish demons, symbolizing struggles over control of ritual authority and sacred space within the community. Archaeological discoveries in the Bentyia–Kukiya region, including early Muslim burials, suggest that the site was not isolated nor purely mythical. Instead, Kukiya appears to have been a substantial multiethnic settlement that was already interacting with Islamic traders by at least the 11th to 12th centuries. Over time, as trade networks intensified and Gao’s geographic advantages became more important, political power shifted northward, indicating a gradual process of state consolidation rather than abrupt replacement.

By the 8th–9th centuries CE, Gao emerged clearly in Arabic writings as a capital city and political force. The geographer al-Yaqubi noted that the king of Kawkaw ruled a number of subject peoples, including desert-dwelling Sanhaja nomads. This claim aligns with archaeological findings showing that Gao was integrated into long-distance economic systems. Gao’s prosperity stemmed strongly from trans-Saharan trade. Caravans from Tadmekka, Kawar, and the Fezzan arrived with salt — a critical commodity that held both economic and political value. In return, Songhay merchants and rulers exported copper, ivory, animal products, and enslaved captives. These exchanges linked Gao to the wider Islamic world stretching from North Africa to the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Excavations at Gao-Saney have revealed copper-working furnaces, imported pottery and glass beads, and architectural features suggesting elite compounds. Such evidence confirms that Gao was not merely a waystation but a thriving production and consumption center. The kingdom’s ability to control trade routes and levy taxes or tribute helped consolidate political authority and population growth.

Islam did not arrive in Gao through conquest but through commerce and diplomacy. By the 10th–11th centuries, rulers known by the title Qanda (or Kanda) had converted to Islam, according to al-Bakri. Their subjects, however, largely maintained traditional beliefs and cult practices. Gao thus existed at this time as a dual-religious polity, with two towns: one Islamic and one that upheld indigenous spirituality. This structure demonstrates a transitional phase when kings embraced Islam’s advantages for diplomacy and legitimacy while still depending on traditional bases of ritual power among their people. Notably, Islamization appears to have been elite-driven. Conversion supported alliances with North African Muslims and facilitated smooth trade relations. But kings continued to rely on matrilineal structures to ensure dynastic stability, which reflects the persistence of indigenous frameworks for rule.

A political transformation became visible in the late 11th and early 12th centuries. The names of rulers that appear in Arabic texts vanish, and new rulers known as the Zaghe/Za emerge prominently in the archaeological record. Royal tombstones found at Gao-Saney are inscribed with Arabic prayers and titles such as malik (king) and malika (queen). Some of these funerary stelae were carved from marble imported from Almeria in Islamic Spain, revealing direct commercial and cultural connections with the wider Muslim world. This new leadership reinforced Islam at the highest levels of authority while retaining Songhay’s matrilineal basis of succession. The prominent burial of queens indicates that elite women were not diminished by Islam but remained central to the legitimacy of rulers. These developments mark Gao’s first clearly documented period of Islamic monarchy, accompanied by a flourishing of intellectual and cultural engagement beyond the Sahara.

Gao’s influence extended beyond commerce. Medieval accounts record that its rulers engaged in conflicts with the Ghana Empire to the west and Kanem to the east. These wars were not merely territorial but economic, driven by competition for control of trade corridors, especially those linking goldfields, salt mines, and northern markets. Warfare and diplomacy were tools to secure and manage tribute from both riverine and desert communities. Gao’s growing military power suggests a centralized administrative apparatus capable of organizing cavalry and riverine forces. That capacity would later form the basis of Songhay’s imperial strength under Sunni Ali.

Islam in Gao did not override existing beliefs. Instead, the two systems merged into a culturally hybrid form of statecraft. Rulers valued Islamic law, Arabic literacy, and international alliances, while also maintaining sacred ceremonial roles rooted in Sudanic cosmology. Spirit possession, public ritual, and matrilineal inheritance endured. This dual legitimacy — Islamic and indigenous — made Gao’s political structure both flexible and resilient. Rather than abolishing entrenched social customs, Islam was used to reinforce monarchy and expand bureaucratic functions, especially in commerce, taxation, and diplomatic communication.

Reconstructing early Songhay history requires attention to the nature of the available sources. Arabic geographers provide some of the earliest written references to Gao, but their works contain gaps and uncertainties because they relied heavily on second-hand information. Archaeology offers concrete material evidence of urban development and Islamic influence but remains limited to sites that have been excavated, especially around Gao-Saney. Oral traditions preserve indigenous perspectives and cultural meanings but contain mythic elements and were shaped by later political contexts. The Tarikh al-Sudan and Tarikh al-Fattash, written centuries later, reflect Songhay’s imperial ideology rather than early history. Despite these limitations, the convergence of evidence strongly indicates that Gao was a powerful and Islamizing state by the 11th century, rooted in earlier indigenous cultural institutions. Continual comparison of sources allows historians to create a clearer, though still evolving, understanding of this crucial period.

By the beginning of the 12th century, Gao had emerged as a thriving urban center with solid economic, military, and religious foundations. Its rulers commanded long-distance trade networks, projected force against rival states, and served as guardians of both Islamic and indigenous authority. These achievements ensured that Gao remained influential even when incorporated into the Mali Empire in the 13th and 14th centuries. When the Sunni dynasty restored independence in the 15th century and expanded to create the Songhay Empire, they built upon centuries of state formation and a tradition of political innovation rooted in the early history of Gao. The foundations of one of West Africa’s greatest empires began not with sudden transformation, but through gradual evolution driven by commerce, culture, and hybrid spirituality.

Contribution to the History of Songhay

Jean Rouch's Contribution à l'histoire des Songhay is rather outdated yet still useful for insights on Songhay history and culture. A reputable ethnographer who studied Songhay religion and magic extensively, Rouch's understanding of their history unsurprisingly emphasizes Islam as an alien element that laid the foundations for the collapse of the Askia. Despite this problematic frame for Songhay history, Rouch's work is one of the best earlier attempts to make sense of Songhay history from its shadowy early origins at Kukiya to the late colonial period. 

Unfortunately, Rouch repeated some of the mistakes of Delafosse and early colonial scholars. For instance, the Za dynasty were said to have been Christianized Lemta Berbers who left Tripolitania around 670. In addition, the early state of Ghana (Wagadu) is attributed to Judaeo-Syrian colonists. These mistakes inhibit a deeper understanding of early Songhay, one which clearly indicates an important role for the Sorko, Gow, and farming populations living near and along the Niger as the foundation of the first Songhay polity. This later inhibits Rouch's analysis of the Za, Si, and Askia dynasties since Islam, promoted by Askia Muhammad, is blamed for the fall of Songhay. Sonni Ali, on the other hand, was the champion of a "black" state that brought Songhay to its zenith, something commemorated in Songhay oral traditions, religion, and Rouch's problematic view of Islam's relations with Songhay religion. 

Of course, later scholars have benefitted from new approaches to the Timbuktu chronicles, epigraphic evidence from Bentia & Gao, as well as archaeological excavations at Gao and other sites in Mali to throw into question a number of theories held as gospel in Rouch's day. The picture that emerges now is one far more dynamic and one that calls into question some of the older generation's stereotypes of Kukiya as the fount of "black" Songhay paganism and even the historicity of Ali Kulun. Nonetheless, Rouch's insights are occasionally insightful here, particularly his proposed translations for Za dynasty rulers recorded in the Timbuktu chronicles. His familiarity with Songhay oral tradition and religion also adds a new dimension to the ways in which Sonni Ali and other rulers are remembered for building their empires through military conquests aided by magic or occult knowledge. 

Development and Regression on the Middle Niger

Le développement et la régression chez les peuples de la boucle du Niger à l'époque précolonial by Michael Tymowski is an ambitious work. An attempt to make sense of around 1000 years of economic progress and regression along a key part of the Western Sudan (centered on the Middle Niger), Tymowski relies heavily on the Timbuktu chronicles, external Arabic sources, and oral traditions. He persuasively makes the case for economic development with the growth of urban centers, limited private land tenure, and accelerated long-distance trade, which later declined in the 1600s and 1700s. This shows that the history of "development" in sub-Saharan African areas has always been dynamic, and not simply one of timeless "backwardness" or irrelevance. 

However, Tymowski's study is quite outdated and relies on French translations of sources in Arabic. It also relies heavily on Jean Rouch and other somewhat outdated scholarship on Songhay ethnography and oral traditions, even repeating the unproven claim that the Dia/Za dynasty of early Songhay rulers were actually Lemta Berbers. In addition, he heavily relied on the problematic Tarikh al-Fattash chronicle for assertions about servile/caste populations. This dependence on French translations of Arabic sources and outmoded scholarship on Songhay ethnography and oral traditions suggest possible limitations of Tymowski's study. While one must acknowledge that the aforementioned Timbuktu chronicles are probably reliable for the 1400s and 1500s (at least more so than for earlier centuries), Tymowski's attempt to derive meaningful conclusions or theories about the economic development of the Mali Empire and Songhay Empire may be misleading or problematic. Nonetheless, there are a number of intriguing ideas about the relationship between the towns (Gao, Djenne, Timbuktu) and the countryside, as well as the role of the state in promoting land tenure arrangements along the lines of property property or through state domains (those of the askias) that controlled and promoted the redistribution of goods. 

Medieval Arabic Epigraphy from Mali and Songhay History

Arabic Medieval Inscriptions from the Republic of Mali: Epigraphy, Chronicles and Songhay-Tuareg History by P.F. de Moraes Farias has long been on our reading list. One of the essential studies that endeavors to incorporate medieval epigraphic sources into our understanding of the history of the Songhay and the eastern arc of the Niger, this important work, despite its (necessarily) occasional speculative nature, raises a number of questions about the received wisdom on the history of Mali. First, by exploring the problematic way in which Heinrich Barth, Delafosse, and others have problematically assumed the 17th century Timbuktu chronicles can be treated as a reservoir of basic facts and data without any deeper ideological or textual analysis, this study illustrates how and why the funerary and non-funerary epigraphic evidence has been ignored, sidelined, or treated as peripheral. 

However, the funerary sources, as early sources covering dates from the early 11th century until the end of the 15th, are actual textual sources from the period before the rise of Sonni Ali and Askia Muhammad I. They shed (some) light on earlier rulers at Gao and Saney with more than just the kingslists that appear in the 17th century chronicles. Moreover, by ignoring the innovative nature of the tarikh genre in the 17th century Western Sudan, and the specific political and socioeconomic conditions which shaped its development after the fall of the Songhay imperial state and the establishment of the Arma, modern scholars have underappreciated the creativity of the chroniclers and their own motives. Furthermore, the chroniclers themselves lamented the lack of sufficient or detailed records from the early history of the Western Sudan, so epitaphs and other inscriptions from the 11th-15th century become exceptionally important sources to supplement our meager knowledge of that era.

That said, the inscriptions obviously cannot tell us everything. They do, however, provide a vista onto how the deceased and those who erected stelae or inscribed tombstones for the dead conceived of time, the calendar, their connection to the larger world of Islam, and hints of kingship, ethnicity, language, or cultural change. Part of this can be seen in Bentyia, where inscriptions record Songhay, Berber, and what appear to be Mande names. The intense interplay between Songhay and Tuareg cultures also challenges us to rethink casual or simplistic assumptions about "race" and culture, too. For instance, the askia title, which appeared in inscriptions centuries before the rise of Askia Muhammad at the end of the 15th century, may have a connection to a word of Berber derivation referring to a male slave (though this is a complex question that requires deeper familiarity with Songhay linguistics and oral tradition). It's quite clear, too, from reading de Moraes Farias, that the Ali Kulun character of Tuareg oral literature was likely the source for how the Timbuktu chroniclers sought to make sense of the period of Mali imperial domination of Gao and the eastern Niger. This suggests that some of the narratives about that period reported in the chronicles are unhistorical and the chronology of Malian rule and the different dynasties that ruled Gao will remain up for debate. 

Whether or not the epigraphic evidence can be used to postulate how kingship might have operated at Gao before the period of Mali's domination is uncertain, but de Moraes Farias's theory of rotating succession in the 11th-13th centuries is an intriguing one., After all, based on the funerary inscriptions from the early 1100s and 1200s at Gao and Saney (another site near Gao), he speculates that there may have been two lines or royal clans who alternated kingship. The first one was definitely Muslim by the second half of the 1000s, and the second one, the so-called Zuwa 'dynasty' may have either been officeholders who shared power with the earlier 'dynasty'. 

Besides raising questions about the Timbuktu chronicles and how medieval inscriptions in Arabic force us to rethink or reconceptualize space, belief, and culture in the medieval Sahel, one is also left with tantalizing references to what may have been early Sufist influence in the Sahel at Junhan. One is also left wondering why it funerary inscriptions were in vogue at Gao, Saney, Bentyia, and Essuk (Tadmakka) but no evidence for the practice has been found yet in Kanem. One would expect that similar connections with Tripoli, Qayrawan and other parts of the Maghrib (as well as similar Saharan and Sahelian Berber populations) did not lead to the development of funerary inscriptions at sites like Njimi (or perhaps at Manan, the earlier capital of Kanem which remains unknown). If the early prominence of Ibadis in Kanem's trans-Saharan trade is a factor, something similar was also an inhibiting factor at Gao.

Balancing Written and Oral History of the Songhay

Hassimi O. Maiga's Balancing Written History with Oral Tradition: The Legacy of the Songhoy People is one of those studies by a member of the Songhay people with so much promise. As a scholarly work authored by someone with local insights, one expects a lot from the author and his ambitious title. Indeed, one occasionally finds references to this book among online Afrocentrists who promote it.  Unfortunately, Maiga's study fails to deliver on many levels. We have learned the hard way to always be wary with the online Afrocentrists. Check their sources and one can easily discover severe limitations of their paradigm. 

What emerges from reading the text is a rather confusing attempt at face-value interpretation of Songhay or Songhoy traditions. There is no nuanced, sophisticated interpreting of oral traditions here. Moreover, Maiga relies heavily on dated sources such as Felix Dubois and J. Beraud-Villers. At times, Maiga appears to actually believe the Songhoy derive from Yemen (Dia brothers, who were somehow also Lemta Berbers?), Egypt and Nubia. Without any evidence, Maiga also asserts a deep antiquity of Katoutka and Koukya, which apparently existed at the same time as the pharoahs of Egypt. We know Gomez's African Dominion cites research demonstrating human habitation of the area of Gao since 2000 BCE, but we do not have sufficient evidence of early urbanism around that time. As more proof of the text's flaws, there's even a bizarre passage claiming potatoes were cultivated in the kingdom of Ghana! 

Furthermore, Maiga is the only writer we have encountered who claimed the Songhoy invented a writing system or script. He linked the "Kumbaw" ideogram writing system to the Kumbaw and/or Sonanche of Gao, allegedly the traditional specialists of writing. However, our previous attempts at verifying or corroborating Maiga's claim failed. There very well could have been some kind or ritualistic or ideograph system used by Songhoy specialists, but Maiga's haphazard presentation and flawed attempt at balancing written and oral sources does not inspire confidence or hope. One would also think better scholars would have discovered this Kumbaw writing system by now. Even if they were Western ethnographers and historians more interested in the political history of the Songhay kingdoms or Islamic influences, wouldn't a Jean Rouch or Hunwick have written about a Songhay ritual writing? 

One is better off consulting Hunwick, Rouch, Boubou Hama or Paulo de Moraes Farias for a much deeper analysis based on synthesizing written sources and oral history. To his credit, the author's presentation of the various dynasties from the Koungorogossi, supposedly the first, to the Dia is interesting. Does he present any evidence that the first Songhoy dynasty existed 3 centuries before the Dia brothers arrived in c.670? No, unfortunately. But the family manuscript Maiga mentions in this context sounds interesting and should be copied and analyzed by others interested in Songhay history. There are bits and pieces of his study which warrant further inquiry. A better scholar might be able to propose a more historically accurate reading of some of the traditions and family manuscripts utilized by Maiga. 

Tarikh al-Fattash

Although so many questions remain pertaining to the authorship and interpolations in the Tarikh al-Fattash, one can see why it has become a priceless resource for understanding the history of the Songhay and the Niger Bend region. Attributed to Mahmud Kati and his grandson, with additional notes and references to a lost chronicle and family records, the text contains clear forgeries from the 19th century, predicting a future caliph of Masina. Nobili and other scholars have made a persuasive argument that what we know call the Tarikh al-Fattash was in fact an original 17th century chronicle by Ibn al-Mukhtar, and the 19th century forgery which drew upon the older text to promote a certain Ahmad of Masina. Apparently, other copies of the Tarikh al-Fattash have been located in the surviving libraries or collections of West African Arabic manuscripts, so future scholars may one day establish a clearer picture on the making of this particular chronicle. Unlike the other surviving Timbuktu chronicle, with a more clearly established author, part of the appeal and challenge of the Tarikh al-Fattash is endeavoring to make sense of its authorship and how it reflects a tradition of chronicles or "historical" writing in West Africa for centuries.

Unfortunately, however, we had to rely on the 1913 French translation of the text by Houdas and Delafosse. Despite its errors and dated footnotes to elucidate ambiguous passages or unclear translations, one felt it to be a more useful (and accessible) translation than the English version. Until a scholarly, annotated English translation of the chronicle is published, we shall have to rely on Houdas and Delafosse's translation. And, lest one be mistaken, the 1913 French translation is mostly serviceable. The incongruous mixing of authors makes for sometimes confusing reading, but the Tarikh al-Fattash provides a number of different oral traditions, slightly modified kingslists for the Zuwa and Sunni dynasties, and new data and references for everyone interested in the rise, decline and fall of the Songhay Askia dynasty. 

As the product of a Muslim intellectual (possibly a real Mahmud Kati, or Ibn al-Mokhtar), it invariably promotes a certain narrative of Songhay political power, religious practice, and Islamic civilizational models the Askiya state, under Askia Muhammad I, epitomized. While also reporting new oral traditions of the early history of West Africa and the Songhay, what the Tarikh al-Fattash emphasizes in servile lineages, slavery (the 24 tribes owned by the kings of Mali, who were then seized by the Songhay and provided tribute), and caste actually reveals something of the larger world beyond the Niger Bend in which Songhay was inextricably linked. For instance, the origins of one caste lineage is somehow imagined to have begun with a former slave owned by Christians in the Atlantic, possibly an allusion to the trans-Atlantic slave trade. One finds intriguing claims of an ancient Jewish population in the area of Tendirma before its formal establishment by the Askiyas. This may have served the purpose of acknowledging the Jewish presence in West Africa or calling attention to the deeper antiquity of this part of West Africa. A similar tactic was possibly used in the Tarikh al-Sudan when al-Sa'di suggested ancient Kukiya was a source of sorcerers for the Pharaohs of Egypt. Undoubtedly, oral traditions and legends permeated both of the Timbuktu chronicles in question, such as the origins of the Zuwa dynasty of kings or the chronology used to describe the early history of Ghana (Wagadu) or even the rise of the Sunni dynasty in the character of Ali Kulun. A great episode, of course not factual, can be found in the tale of Mansa Musa's hajj, when his farba produces an artificial river in the middle of the desert for the mansa's wife.

For our purposes, if the Tarikh al-Fattash is reliable, then it is priceless for shedding more light on social structure and practices of power among the Askiya rulers. It may reflect a greater dependence on slaves in the post-Songhay imperial period, but it reveals how the Askiya was expected to be generous, redistribute wealth, and, in at least some cases, employ enslaved labor for agriculture. Thus, an Askiya is said to have given the original Mahmud Kati several gifts for his sons to marry, including land with slave laborers to make it productive. Another story of Askia Dawud's generosity mentions him freeing the entire family of an old enslaved woman, even though the woman had only asked that the Askia ensure her children and grandchildren not be separated when sold to new owners. This seems to reflect the fact that slave trading in Songhay lands did indeed separate families. But even better for this old woman and her family, Askia Dawud freed her entire family and had an official document signed in front of witnesses to attest to her family's freedom. Freeing slaves was a virtuous act, but making gifts out of them for various Islamic scholars, nobles, and subordinates was supposedly another aspect of Askia Dawud's virtue. It is in this context we learn that the population of Gao consisted of 7,626 houses, not counting straw huts, to display how no one living in the city had not benefited from the largesse of the Askia dynasty.

As for royal plantations (producing rice, it would seem), caste, artisans, and the poor, the Tarikh al-Fattash also reveals more than the Tarikh al-Sudan. The poor in Timbuktu and Gao supposedly received food directly from the Askia Dawud. In the first city, Dawud allegedly founded a plantation worked by 30 slaves to feed the poor. He also sent 4000 sunnu of grain to the qadi of Timbuktu to distribute for them. Intriguingly, to be a royal slave also conferred a degree of power, and could, in some cases (Missakoulah, the supervisor said to be from Baguirmi who oversaw a royal plantation and repeatedly gave away grain from it to the less fortunate) get away with independent actions and behavior (especially if their behavior in virtuous acts improved the status of their master). It is also in the Tarikh al-Fattash that references to the tailors of Timbuktu and artisans can be found. 

For instance, the Moroccan invading army included Arab shoemakers and artisans who sold their services after the pacification of the region. Supposedly, prior that, Timbuktu already had 26 establishments for tailors, the so-called tindi, which were run by a master who had, on average, around 50 apprentices. Some of the tailors were also scholars, such as a certain Boussa mentioned in the the chronicle. There must have been some kind of guild-like association for certain trades in towns like Timbuktu and Gao. Other artisan groups were treated as a caste, and expected to provide a tribute to the Askias (the blacksmiths, for example). Unfortunately, these chronicles, focused as they are on the Askias and scholars, do not tell us more about artisans, laborers, and farmers, and less about the use of enslaved labor in the salt mines or estates owned by non-Askiya. In the near future, a new translation of the Tarikh al-Fattash and critical study of it and other manuscripts may shed light on these questions, and the basis of Songhay royal power to the peasantry.