A Bulala Attack on Bilma

One of the interesting historical references in Maurice Abadie's Afrique centrale; la colonie du Niger is a possible Bulala raid that culminated in a massacre of people near Bilma, in Kawar. The alleged attack occurred in the 17th century, likely at a time when the Bulala sultans were already in the region of Fitri instead of Kanem. Thus, the attack probably took place when the Bulala were at a further distance from Kanem. Unfortunately, we could not locate any sources to corroborate this tradition. However, Nachtigal, in Sahara and Sudan, wrote a history of Bagirmi's kings based on informants who were descendants of the principal actors involved. One of the intriguing moments in his account of the reign of the Bagirmi king Burkomanda, whose regnal dates were probably 1635-1665, included far-ranging raids that reached Borku and Kawar. This same mbang of Bagirmi had a sister, Zara, married to the Bulala sultan. It is possible that the Bulala raid which massacred people in Bilma assembled for prayer was actually part of one of the Bagirmi king's expeditions. 

Revisiting the Tura

A problematic part of H.R. Palmer's list of Tura mahrams in the 3rd volume of Sudanese Memoirs.

One of the more interesting components of the Kanuri population are the Tura. Gustav Nachtigal, who wrote copiously about Borno and its peoples in the late 19th century, saw them as an essentially Teda group who became indistinguishable from the Kanuri peoples of Borno. In addition to Nachtigal's observations of their origin, H.R. Palmer translated a large number of mahrams from the Beni Mukhtar branch of the Beni Habibi Tura. Some of these Tura mahrams claim to refer to the ancestors of the Beni Mukhtar Tura in 12th century Kawar. While we have discussed this aspect of their past in another post, we want to take a look at the other mahrams issued to members of this group by the Sayfawa rulers of Borno. Doing so helps to unveil their deeper origins in Kawar, their possible ties to the Fazzan, their Tubu origins, and their claims to sharif descent. 

First, who are the Tura? In the fourth volume of his Travels, Barth referred to their Tubu connections and their chief, the Dirkema. In the second volume of his Sahara and Sudan, Nachtigal referred to them multiple times. The office of Jerma was the chief of the Tura. In his charge were the royal stables, personal security of the mai, and an administrative distict on the Komadugu Yoobe near Gazargamo (Nachtigal 251). Muhammad Nur Alkali, however, argued that the officer in charge of the royal stables was the Mulima. It is possible that some holders of the position in the time of Sayfawa may have been Tura, but Nachtigal made an error. As previously mentioned, Nachtigal also noted the Tubu component in the Tura. They were also associated with Dirki in Kawar, so the chief was called Dirkema. In Borno, they shared the Kanuri speech and manner of life (173). Even the Sugurti included a Tura sub-section (173). Indeed, the Tura population were also linked to the dignitary called Fergima. Nachtigal thought this title went to the person with general supervision of Dirki in Kawar (255). 

Other observers and scholars have clarified matters, at least partially. Hamidu Bobboyi, in his fine dissertation, wrote of the Tura as a group tied to Borno's long-distance trade. They were given the settlement of Lalori and a local leader, the Ghuzuma, by the Sayfawa. Indeed, Alib. Umar's daughter was said to have married Ali Kellu, a Tura, who received the title of Suganderema and the right to collect the "corn tax" in Gazargamo (Bobboyi 128). The Tura were similarly important in the horse trade (140). Essentially, Bobboyi uses the Tura mahrams to present a brief overview of their history.  Other studies do the same. For instance, Le Sourd's "Tarikh el Khawar" alludes to the Tura briefly as the "Terras" who lived in Kawar before the Kanuri. Another colonial-era author, J.R. Patterson, translated a praise song to Zerma Ibrahim, son of a princess and son of Margi, of the Tura tribe. This song, which he entitled "The Song of the Zakkama to the Zerma" in Kanuri Songs, is said to date from the reign of Ali b. Umar in the 17th century. Furthermore, it corroborates Nachtigal's association of the office of Jerma to the Tura. A marriage alliance with the Sayfawa dynasty is also explicit, although there is no sense of Ibrahim as a leader of the Tura in Borno.

In order to explore the origins of this group, one must engage with Palmer. Palmer, whose Sudanese Memoirs and Bornu Sahara and Sudan contain many primary sources, was very much a product of his time. His scholarship often relies on faulty etymological reasoning and a racialized theory of sub-Saharan African history. Nonetheless, he did collect and translate many traditions and manuscripts in Borno. Thanks to his Sudanese Memoirs and Bornu Sahara and Sudan, several Tura mahrams and a girgam are accessible. But using these sources requires very careful interpretation. Nonetheless, they provide tantalizing clues for the origin of the Beni Mukhtar Tura. Indeed, of all the documents on them included in the mahrams, the Beni Mukhtar appear in 6. They are always said to share an origin with the Beni Habibi Tura, too. In their mahrams, they are linked to the horse trade, Dirku in Kawar, sometimes the Tubu (who intermarried with them in Kawar), and sharif ancestry through Hassan. In addition, their genealogies suggest their forebears were Zeilama, or chiefs of the Fazzan, before Dirku.

What do the mahrams suggest historically? Consulting the third volume of Palmer's Sudanese Memoirs is quite revealing. The earliest mahram to mention a Tura is actually attributed to the Hummay, who reigned in the late 11th century. According to this source, which focuses on Muhammad b. Mani for his role in the Islamization of Kanem, refers to a Tura Tuzan (Tuzar?) as a pillar of the kingdom (4). It is unclear who this person was, but it suggests that a "Tura" who likely hailed from Kawar received a grant of immunity from Hummay. The next mahrams which refer to the Tura, said to date from the late 1100s during the reign of Abd Allah Bakuru, allude to conflict with the Tuareg of Air. This is actually plausible, and the mahrams suggest the active intervention of the mai in Kanem to resolve conflicts. The "Tura Mahram of Dirkuma Ibrahim" explicitly connects this history to the Beni Mukhtar (6). If this genealogy is accurate, then the ancestors of the Beni Mukhtar, who were linked to the Beni Habibi (in Kawar?), must have been Kawarians referred to in external Arabic sources. Their location in Kawar, a region known for its trade in alum and its importance as Kanem's main artery to the north, led to an early Islamic presence there by the 9th century. By the late 12th century, natives of Kawar, like the poet Abu Ishaq Ibrahim al-Kanemi, born in Bilma, was said to have Banu Sulaym Arab ancestry. It would seem that the "discovery" of Quraysh ancestry might date back to these early encounters with Arabs in the Fazzan and Kawar by the mid-11th century.

Unfortunately, there is a gap in the historical record for the next Tura mahrams. After first appearing in their records and traditions in the 11th and 12th centuries, the Tura next appear in a mahram issued by the court of Idris Alooma. In this "Tura Mahram Idris Bugalmarambe," the Tura presented a horse as a gift to Idris Katagarmabe. Then, the document tells us that the Tura were excused from military service in the time of Idris Alooma (r. 1564-1596). In fact, the mahram reports that Idris Alooma abolished the requirement of the Tura to travel to Dirku and Zeila, no longer requiring them to import horses from Egypt (6). This mahram does not explicitly reference the Beni Mukhtar, but it is implied to refer to the same group. That they wanted to cease their arduous trade in horses is also significant. It is in the 16th century we find written sources that allude to the horse trade between Borno and the north. Leo Africanus, for example, wrote of the trade of slaves for horses in Borno. Anania, writing later in the 16th century, similarly noted the large-scale trade of horses from North Africa to Borno via the Fazzan. This trade in horses is not mentioned in earlier, medieval sources on Kanem despite the importance of cavalry for Sayfawa military expeditions or raids. Moreover, the previous mahrams said to date from the late 1100s do not mention horses at all. Sometime between the 12th century and the 16th, the Beni Mukhtar (or a related Tura group) must have either expanded the scale of their horse trading activities or shifted to the trade in horses. The titles of Zeilama might be a reference to this period where their influence in the Fazzan facilitated the movement of horses from North Africa. Was this during the period of Kanem's suzeraintry of the Fazzan? While the Banu Nasur ruled from Traghen, were the Zeilama Tura overseeing commerce from Zawila?

The following Tura mahram is also dated to the reign of Idris Alooma. Simply a girgam for Dirkuma Muhammad, it lists his origins among the Beni Mukhtar. It attributed the origins of Laluri as a Tura town to Idris Alooma. It affirms the other mahram exempting the Tura from military service. However, it does not include any mention of voluntary Tura trading expeditions to Dirku or the food and supplies they were to receive from the Figidoma, Yawama, and Tagama (7). Given the many military conflicts that occurred during Idris Alooma's reign, it is intriguing that he ended the requirement for the Beni Mukhtar to trade horses. Was this due to changes in the nature of the horse trade at this time, making the Beni Mukhtar less necessary? Ahmad b. Furtu's chronicle of his ruler's campaigns did include a conflict against the Tubu in Kawar, perhaps hinting at new trade relationship for horses.

The subsequent mahram, "Tura Mahram Hamsawa," elucidates the Tubu Dibiri origin of the Tura Beni Habibi Hamsawa. This mahram implies that the Tura Beni Habibi stayed in Dirku, where a Tubu named Adam married Hafsa. Their descendants became known as the Tura Beni Habibi (8). A similar girgam for the Tura Habibi Aisawa also hints at a Dirku base for the Beni Habibi. In this case, yet another Tubu, Abdullahi of the Balgada Tubu, married Aisi Kili of the Beni Habibi. He entered her clan. According to Palmer's translation, there were apparently 16 sub-groups of this clan (Beni Habibi or Habibi Aisawa?) (13). This further supports the notion of the Beni Habibi remaining in Dirku while the Beni Mukhtar splintered and migrated to Borno. If the Beni Habibi remained in Dirku, it is possible that their descendants became part of the Gezebida, the mixed Kanuri-Tubu of this part of Kawar.

Besides these mahrams referring to the Tubu ancestry of some Beni Habibi branches, the other mahrams focus on the Beni Mukhtar of Borno. One, said to date from the reign of Ali b. Umar (1688), although his reign was over before this year, confirms the status of Laluri as a Tura settlement. It does introduce a new element by referring to the "father" of the Beni Mukhtar, Hajj Muhammad ibn Dublu (8). Another mahram, from 1752, stresses the Beni Mukhtar's ties to Laluri and names the owner of the document as Dirkuma Muhammad Aisami. Further detail of the settlements associated with different leaders of the Beni Mukhtar reveal that, in addition to Laluri, Gawa Dali, and Magabura were held by members of the group (9). An additional mahram from 1752 alluded to conflict with mai Ali that was resolved when the Tura threatened to return to Dirku. Apparently, the Sayfawa sultan tried to enlist them for military service, which they rejected on the grounds of their descent. The Sayfawa conceded and, after cancelling the expedition, imposed a token tax on the Tura (10). This document implies that the Tura retained links to Kawar as late as c.1752 and their presence in Borno was important enough for the mai to concede rather than risk their relocation. If this transpired, one may surmise that their status descendants of the family of the Prophet and their possible economic activities within Borno were of great importance. Yet, by the time of Ahmad (r. 1792-1808), the Tura refused to travel north to trade for horses. They did accept the responsibility of supplying local horses to the Sayfawa (11). 

Finally, the most recent mahrams of 19th century origin present a number of questions. One, dated to 1806, implausibly references Shehu al-Kanemi. Chronological inconsistencies aside, the document tells us that the Tura of Marte had given a daughter to the mai. Al-Kanemi for his part insisted that only the Tura chiefs are free of taxes. In addition, the Dirkuma is entitled as chief of the Tura, implying his higher status among the Tura leadership (11). Of course, Dirku was sometimes implied as a general name for Kawar, too. Palmer proceeded to list the genealogy of the Tura on the next page of Sudanese Memoirs, but it is unclear where this information came from. It nonetheless provides a general estimate of the Tura spending 350 years in Borno and 220 years in Dirku. In Dirku (probably a general term for Kawar), the Tura chiefs were Zulama, Dirkuma, and Amarma, implying a Fazzan position to the north. This is followed by a list of various Tura groups: Arwalinwa, Wadali, Jilbana, Zuganda, Amzura, and the Beni Ishak (12). Of this last group, they were tied to Gazbi (likely al-Qasaba of medieval Kawar). This presumably legendary account at least connects the Beni Ishak to Gazbi and the past of Kawar. Lange, in A Sudanic Chronicle, tied Gasbi and al-Qasaba to Dirku (124). 

How does one make sense of these traditions and mahrams of Tura origins? Palmer, who naturally wanted to emphasize "white" or exotic origins, tried to connect them to Arabs, the Fazzan, Traghen, and other lands. The Hausa word for whites, turawa is also brought up. Yet the Kanuri appeared to use the word wasili for "whites" from North Africa. The Tura records affirm at least partial Tubu ancestry. Their possibly deep roots in Kawar are apparently recalled among the traditions of Kanuris in that region. Their ultimate origins are thus to be found in Kawar, where multiethnic trading communities with ties to Ibadi Berber Muslims appeared by the 800s. In the medieval sources, Kawar was apparently more famous for exporting alum or salt rather and its medieval inhabitants were not particularly noticed for engaging in the trade of horses from North Africa to Kanem. By the 16th century, however, the Beni Mukhtar Tura were involved in this trade. They appear to have left the salt trade in the hands of the Koyam and focused on horses. When or how their claims to be descendants of the Hassan began is unclear, but given the early penetration of this region by Muslim traders from the North, it may have begun by the time of the 12th century. Furthermore, given the Beni Mukhtar's ties to the horse trade and external sources alluding to a large-scale trade of horses at Fazzan to Borno, one wonders if the title of Zeilama among ancestors of the Tura may be an allusion to the period of Kanem's hegemony in Fazzan (1200s-1300s). Surely, Dunama Dibalemi's campaigns would have required horses for his armies and controlling the Fazzan would have ensured security on that route. But by the end of the 16th century, the Beni Mukhtar were less interested in traveling to the north for this trade. Their status or claim to descent from Hassan likely contributed to the concessions made to them by the Sayfawa. They nonetheless also continued to raise horses in Borno.

Abu Ishaq Ibrahim al-Kanemi

Wikipedia's Map of the Almohad state.

Whilst revisiting old notes, we came across references to the poet Abu Ishaq Ibrahim al-Kanemi. Comparing how Djibo Hamani wrote about him to the short description of him in the second volume of Arabic Literature of Africa: The writings of Central Sudanic Africa. Vol. 2 raises many questions. Hamani, like the editors of the Arabic Literature of Africa, draws from an exceedingly difficult to find study by Mohammad Bencherifa. Bencherifa, the author of Ibrâhîm al-Kânimî (m. 609/1212–1213), figure illustre dans les relations culturelles entre le Maroc et Bilâd al-Sûdân uses all known works in Arabic that mention al-Kanemi. Consequently, it is the best study of al-Kanemi and used by both of our sources.

Where do the accounts differ? Djibo Hamani, whose Quatorze siecles d'histoire du Soudan Central: Le Niger du VIIè au XXè siecle refers to Bencherifa, adopts a somewhat speculative approach. Hamani, like our other source, mentions al-Kanemi's birth in Bilma, a town in Kawar. He apparently arrived in Marrakesh in 1198. As for his surnames, Hamani interprets al-Zakawani as an allusion to the Zaghawa, an appellation used by medieval Arabic sources to refer to some of the populations living in Kawar and Kanem (Hamani 57). In addition, al-Kanimi was said to have possessed a mastery of the Arabic language. He impressed the court of Almohad Marrakesh and befriended a prince, also named Abu Ishaq Ibrahim (al-Mansur). Through his elite connections, al-Kanimi was said to have married an Almohad princess named Zahra and to have moved to Seville. But by c.1212, al-Kanemi had died in Marrakesh (58). As one might expect, Hamani also wrote of al-Kanemi's writings in defense of his skin color. Alas, none of his poetry survives except for fragments of his verses praising Almohad rulers. The ultimate reason why al-Kanemi may have reached Marrakesh in the first place could have been diplomatic. Hamani seems to concur with Bencherifa that al-Kanemi may have traveled there on behalf of the rulers of Kanem, interested no doubt in securing trade routes after the fall of the Bani Khattab in the Fazzan (57). This diplomatic purpose may have also been why al-Kanemi spent a lot of time with the envoy of Saladin at the Almohad court, Ibn Hummaya. 

Arabic Literature of Africa: The writings of Central Sudanic Africa offers a very different interpretation of al-Kanemi. The editors present the variants of al-Kanemi's name in the sources. Rendered as Ibrahim b. Ya'qub al-Dhakwani al-Kanemi, the editors also mention his name written as Abu Ishaq Ibrahim b. Muhammad b. Faris b. Shakla b. Amr b. Abd Allah al-Sulami al-Dhakwani in al-Dhayl wa'l-takmila. Instead of mentioning the Zaghawa, they stress the Dhakwani origin in a branch of the Banu Sulaym, Arabs who migrated west from Egypt in the mid-11th century. Apparently, al-Kanemi wrote a poem about his Dhakwani ancestry, too. However, this source agrees with Hamani about the poet's birthplace in Bilma. Since his skin color was described by contemporaries as "jet-black," at least al-Kanemi's mother was black. Indeed, if his skin color was very dark, it is possible that any Arab ancestor was more than one generation ago. If one assumes al-Kanemi was probably born around 1155, then his Arab ancestor who came to Kawar might have been born a century before him. Interestingly, the ruler of Kanem when he traveled to Marrakesh is remembered in the Diwan for being very dark-skinned, too. Lange has suggested this was due to his mother, Hawa, being a Dabir, a Kanembu group. Is it possible al-Kanemi's mother came from a Kanembu population rather than a Teda-Daza one? In addition, al-Kanemi was said by one source to have been educated in Ghana before traveling to Marrakesh. Furthermore, his defensive poems about the color of his skin were addressed to both his wife, Zahra and the poet al-Jirawi. Lastly, he died in Andalusia, not Marrakesh.

A map of Kawar in The Oasis of Salt: The History of Kawar, a Saharan Centre of Salt Production by Knut S. Vikor.

Obviously, part of the divergence of opinions on this obscure Arabic poet and grammarian can be traced to the source material. Lost works, fragments of his poetry quoted by others or references by later chroniclers or writers likely led to errors about him. One thing is clear, however: al-Kanemi was a highly respected poet from Kanem. His dark-skin and verses in praise of it also suggest something about possible views in the Maghreb of this period. After all, why write verses in a defensive tone about one's color unless others were denigrating it? This early form of racism or colorism did not completely hinder his social ascension if he was accepted at the royal court as a great poet whose renown even reached the eastern Mediterranean. The accounts also agree on a Bilma and Kanem origin for al-Kanemi. By the late 12th century, Kawar was in Kanem's sphere of influence, thereby explaining the al-Kanemi nisba. What can one possibly surmise about al-Kanemi from this bundle of facts, speculations, and contradictions?

First, the Banu Sulaym origins. In Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History edited by Levtzion and Hopkins, 2 references to the Banu Sulaym can be found. According to Ibn Khaldun, they were Arabs who lived in Ifriqiya, opposite the Targa (331). But, it is likely that some branches of the Banu Sulaym lived further east, in today's Libya, during the 11th and 12th centuries. If so, and al-Kanemi's alleged Banu Sulaym origins are not fabricated, he was probably a descendant of a member of this group that migrated to Kawar from today's Libya. Since his Arab pedigree might have dated back a few generations, this would match a timeline of the late 11th century for his Arab ancestor to have migrated to Kawar. Bilma, whose first appearance in written history can be traced to the late 10th century author al-Muhallabi, was already a major town or settlement in Kawar by the time of al-Kanemi. In fact, al-Idrisi's description of the region points to its wealth through the trade in alun (salt?) and its residents who traveled far as merchants. For instance, Ankalas, the town he identified as having the most trade, had residents who traveled to the Maghreb and Egypt. Its local ruler was said to be a generous Muslim (123-124). The region would naturally have attracted both traders and nomadic groups traversing the desert. In Bilma, which Yaqut described as a town with a sultan subject to the Zaghawa ruler (Kanem), al-Kanemi was likely exposed to people of Arab, Berber, Kanem origin. Our poet, al-Kanemi, was undoubtedly a product of this multicultural, Islamic space.

Close ties to Kanem are further supported by problematic mahrams which allude to the local Kawarian elites seeking protection from the mai of Kanem. Allegedly dating to the late 12th century, probably during the reign of Abd Allah Bakuru, they illustrate Kawar's strong ties with Kanem. Likewise, the Diwan indicates Kawar roots and connections for a number of maiwa in 11th century Kanem. In truth, al-Kanemi himself allegedly told a story about a supernatural phenomenon in Kanem that indicates he had traveled there. In this story, reported by al-Umari but derived from the Takmila by Abu Abd Allah Muhammad b. Abd al-Malik al-Marrakushi, al-Kanemi reported sightings of a objects that resemble pots of moving fire at night. When traveling at night, people in Kanem saw it and it moved away as they tried to get near (260). This strange tale is difficult to interpret, but might be some type of meteorological or astronomical phenomena. It nonetheless suggests that al-Kanemi also traveled to Kanem. Thus, it is possible part of his education, which must have included robust training in Arabic language, the Quran and poetry, took place in Kanem. 

Another early center of Islamic scholarship in West Africa, Ghana (the ancient kingdom and not today's Ghana), may have been where al-Kanemi furthered his studies. Ghana certainly gained a reputation by the 12th century as a kingdom where one could find jurists, scholars, Quran readers, and people who traveled to al-Andalus or Mecca. Descriptions of Ghana from al-Bakri, al-Zuhri, Abu Hamid al-Gharnati, and al-Sharishi mention these details in their works from the 12th and 13th centuries. Therefore, it is not inconceivable for al-Kanemi to have studied in the Western Sudan. In fact, his roots in Kawar might have been a factor if salt from the oases was sold to lands west of Kanem by the 12th century. Unfortunately, no sources exist to verify Islamic and Arabic literary education in Ghana that attracted students from as far away as Kanem. It would certainly be plausible for al-Kanemi's education to have been in Kanem and Kawar, where Islam was established and the Sayfawa rulers promoted the religion. This seems more likely given the deeper roots of Islam in Kawar than in Ghana. Even in Kanem, one of the early Muslim maiwa, Bir b. Dunama, was remembered in tradition as a pious and learned man. Ahmad b. Furtu, whilst chronicling the Kanem campaigns of Idris Alooma, alludes to him as a "learned and God-fearing sultan." Thus, the Sayfawa maiwa may have even sponsored his education or been the ones responsible for sending al-Kanemi to Marrakesh in the first place.

Overall, much of the life of Abu Ishaq Ibrahim al-Kanemi remains a mystery. Was he really educated in Ghana? Was his first voyage to Marrakesh a diplomatic mission on behalf of the king of Kanem? If so, are there any extant Almohad accounts of Kanem's diplomacy with Marrakesh, as with the Hafsids in Tunis? Moreover, was he of Banu Sulaym descent and when did they establish a presence in Kawar? If his education in Arabic grammar and poetry took place in Kanem, was he close to the Sayfawa dynasty? If so, was his mission to Marrakech ordered by Salma b. Hawa? What was his life like as a dark-skinned black man in the Almohad court? Many of these questions are unanswerable with the currently available evidence. Nonetheless, it is probable he was educated at least partly in the kingdom of Kanem. If he was serving in a diplomatic capacity at the Almohad court, he would need to be an educated figure to best represent the kingdom with Muslim powers to the north. Apparently, he was so impressive a poet and grammarian that it was worthwhile for him to stay. To conclude, here are some of his verses composed in praise of the Almohad ruler, Yaqub al-Mansur, recorded by Ibn Khallikan (translated by Levtzion and Hopkins in the Corpus, p.163):

He removed his veil but my eyes, out of awe, saw him 

through a veil.

His favor drew me near, but being near, out of awe, I 

found myself distant.

Tarikh el Kawar

Michel Le Sourd's "Tarikh el Kawar" was published in Bulletin de l'I.F.A.N. in 1946. However, since the author was able to collect oral traditions from various parts of Kawar from people still old enough to recall precolonial days, there is some value in this rather short article. Lamenting the lack of interest by literate Kanuri and others in Kawar, Le Sourd attempts a broad overview of Kawar history based solely on oral traditions. Without even referring to the external medieval sources or references to the region from Kanem and Borno, Le Sourd's study is probably most useful for a glimpse of Kawar in the last 2 or 3 centuries. 

According to Le Sourd, the populations of Kawar in chronological order are the following: Soo (Sao), Konnas, Terras, Kanuris and Tubus. Unfortunately, none of his informants apparently gave him information on the Konnas and Terras, who were perhaps the people of Kawar when the region was described in medieval Arabic sources from the 9th century onward. As for the Sao, that appears to be a legend accompanying every Kanuri population. Indeed, some of the same traditions of the Sao familiar from Borno are repeated here, with a few minor differences. In fact, Fachi appears to have retained a stronger connection to legends of the Sao, perhaps a testament to the region's importance during the reign of Ali b. Dunama in his campaigns against Air (Le Sourd 4). However, Fachi traditions remember the sultan of Borno also killing the Sao of Fachi. Moreover, the story of the Kanuri using henna and a trick to trap the Sao is reported, even though this tradition is really more pertinent to the area of Birni Gazargamo or Borno proper (5). Alternatively, the memory of the Soo in Kawar could also be linked to the Tubu name for Seguedin, called Soo by those in the Tibetsi (15). Perhaps the name Soo for Segedin once covered a broader area of Kawar, but then mixed with Kanuri legends of the Sao?

Intriguingly, the Sao are remembered in tradition for the use of the ksur or fortified sites across the area (2). Even the town name Agram supposedly means fortified village in Kanuri, although a possible Berber etymology has been proposed elsewhere (35). The Kanuri association of fortified sites with the Sao probably means that the towns or villages already had fortifications before their arrival, though the Kanuri may have expanded or maintained them. 

As for the Konnas and Terras, perhaps the latter is an allusion to the Tura? As in the Tura who also migrated to Borno and of whom some examples of early mahrams have been located. The early Tura mahrams suggest close ties between Kanem and Dirkou which began by the 1100s. Indeed, close relations between the rulers of Kanem and Dirkou (as well as other parts of Kawar) likely began before the 11th century. As for the Konnas, the appellation brings to mind a word used in Borno for pagans to the South, said to be associated with Kwararafa. Since it is highly unlikely for people from Kwararafa to have preceded the Kanuri in Kawar, if there is any connection with the Kwona or Kwoana in Borno, it may simply be a reference to a pre-Islamic population living in Kanem before its Islamization during the time of the Terras (Turas?).

With the arrival of the Kanuri, a better sense of the history of the region begins. According to his informants, Le Sourd found that nearly every site in Kawar was previously inhabited by the Kanuri when the Tubu arrived. Thus, the Kanuri were at Guezebi-Guassar first, before the Tubu (6). The Tomaghera Tubu who migrated into the area intermarried with them, becoming the Guezebidas (7). Similarly, Dirku was said to have had a Kanuri population already when the Tubu arrived (10). Furthermore, Kanuri were the first at Sara, Djado, and Djaba. When recounting the legend of Dalla Kerkaou of Sara, Le Sourd also alludes to the Tuareg of Air ruling Djado, but the chronology for this probably legendary story is ambiguous (16). Is this a reference to the period of Air control in Kawar during the 18th and 19th centuries, or referring to a more ancient conflict between the peoples of Air and Kawar? Last but not least, the Koyam were also present in villages stretching from Agram to Termit (28). Their presence in the region, if they are indeed the Kay referred to in the Diwan, is likely of far deeper antiquity and may be linked to the early salt trade between Kawar and Kanem-Borno.

Also of interest is Le Sourd's observations on differences in spoken Kanuri in Kawar. According to his observations, the Kanuri spoken in Fachi, Djado and Tedjerhe in the Fazzan are similar and distinct from other Kawar villages (23). It is also asserted that these areas were once closer to Zeila, too  (22). Although travel between the Kanuriphone populations was negatively impacted by insecurity, their similarities despite the distance between the Fezzan and Fachi illustrate the latter's economic importance. The similarities to Djado lead one to wonder if that area was once also more economically important for a short route to the Fezzan. Fachi certainly was of great economic significance for trade. Moreover, traditions suggest Fachi, or Agram, was also an important site as early as the 15th century for the Sayfawa ruler, Ali b. Dunama. Its links to the Koyam salt traders are areas worthy of further investigation. 

In summation, Le Sourd's exposition on Kawar history, based solely on oral traditions, raises a number of interesting questions. That the current peoples of the area, of Kanuri and/or Tubu origin, attribute a Sao presence predating other groups could likely be a result of widely shared Kanuri legends of the Sao. If so, then this suggests the Kanuri population may be associated with movement into Kawar during the period of Sayfawa rule in Borno. Since some of the legends current in Kawar even refer to traditions on the origins of Birni Gazargamo to the South, one wonders if the 1400s might be a plausible period of origin for some of the Kanuri in Kawar. Of course, the close relations between Kawar and Kanem before this period could also have led to Kanembu and Kanuri-speaking communities in the area long before the 15th century. But the traditions of the Kawar Kanuri of peoples called Konna and Terra preceding them may be an allusion to the pre-Islamic and medieval population of the oases. Their disappearance may have been due to a merging into the Kanuri population, as the Tura of Borno suggest. 

Oasis of Salt

Knut S. Vikør's The Oasis of Salt: The History of Kawar, a Saharan Centre of Salt Production is required reading for anyone interested in the history of Kawar and Kanem-Borno. While suffering from a number of typos, this book actually surpasses the incomplete history of Kawar written by Marguerite Le Coeur. Unlike her work, Vikør reaches more level-headed conclusions and theories while also challenging Lovejoy on the economic and political dimensions of Kawar and the salt trade (slavery was marginal to salt production). Of course, as its focus is on Kawar, Kanem and Borno only appear in references to the Kanuri population of the region or in periods when direct authority of Kanem-Borno in the region was attested by various sources. Thus, Kawar is the center of this history, showing how a periperhal central Saharan oasis (and nearby Fachi and Jado) could be significant in the Sudanic salt trade as well as trans-Saharan contact. Kawar as a center-periphery is a key theme here, shifting in its reception of varying cultural influences based on the power dynamics of the Central Sudan and Sahara.

Vikør begins the study with an overview of Kawar, the geography, the relevant populations and the method of salt production. This precedes the second half of the book's chronological analysis, but is very helpful for contextualizing Kawar, Fachi and Jado. Then, the rest of the history analyzes Kawar from the time of Herodotus and the ancient Garamantes to the French colonial conquest. Le Coeur's earlier published history covers the same era, but does not rely on questionable assumptions (Le Coeur believed the Tomagra and Kaye were "Berbers"). In fact, Oasis of Salt is a very careful reading of Kawar's history based on our limited sources. Thus, moving from Herodotus and references to the Garamantes in the south from the Roman era, Vikør endeavors to cautiously interpret the various medieval Arabic sources from the 9th century to the late 14th. Moreover, for those able to read Arabic, an appendix includes the original texts with Vikør's translations. Needless to say, his interpretation of some of these Arabic sources is nuanced enough to give a more accurate impression of Kawar from the 7th century onwards. 

While we may never the full historicity of Uqba b. Nafi's "conquest" of Kawar or what exactly the famous alun of Kawar actually was, it becomes clear that Kawar was probably known or at least heard of by the Garamantes and probably an entrepot for trans-Saharan trade by the 9th century. The references to Kanem and Zaghawa or Zaghawi captives certainly suggests the Ibadi trade network had penetrated Kawar and likely introduced Islam into the region. This early Ibadi influence and links to the Fezzan are the reasons Vikør sees early Kawar as falling more into a Maghrebi or North African sphere of influence (exemplified in the ancient Arabic place names and the gassars, which seem to owe more to Kanuri or Sudanic influences but use an Arabic term), later shifting to predominantly "Sudanic" with the assertion of Kanem's control or interests by the 12th century. With the rise of Kanem (even under mai Arku, hints of Kanem's influence in Kawar and ties to the Tomagra and Dirku suggest early links), Sudanic civilization exerted its influence to a greater extent in Kawar and even the Fezzan. Then, despite the decline of Kanem by the late 1300s, the Bornoan state under the Sayfawas reasserted their claims to Kawar. To what extent Arku, Dunama, Ali Gaji, Idris Alooma, or other mais of Kanem-Borno were ever able to exert strong authority over Kawar is unclear, but surviving Borno mahrams and the Diwan suggest familial, tax exemptions, marital, and military strategies.

However, unlike Lovejoy, Vikør does not seem to see Borno's interest in Kawar as being connected to the trade in salt in the Sudan. Instead, Borno was more interested in securing Kawar for trans-Saharan trade to Tripoli, via the Fezzan. Of course, it is hard to imagine Borno not trying to take advantage of Kawar's salt production, as the Koyam were said to have been involved in it and perhaps the Bornoan state added Kawar's salt exports to local natron production in Manga and near Lake Chad to supplement their trade with Hausaland and beyond. In other words, even if trans-Saharan trade and the Kawar salt caravans usually operated independently, it is difficult to imagine Borno not actively promoting Kawar's salt trade. This does not exclude the possibility of Tuareg caravans carrying salt from Kawar to Hausaland, which the Kano Chronicle may suggest was occurring by the mid-15th century. Indeed, the ensuing conflict between the Tuareg of Ayar and Borno in the late 17th century and 18th century, even if it was often small-scale raids in Kawar, does suggest Borno's interest in Kawar were important for security of trans-Saharan trade but perhaps the profitable salt trade, too. Indeed, Tuareg incursions on the borders of northern Borno plus Tuareg settlements of enslaved farmers in Damergu must have been seen as as combined threat to Kawar and Borno's direct borders. The Koyam must have been threatened too, by the rising importance of Tuareg, specifically Kel Owey salt caravans to Fachi and Kawar. 

Overall, this is mandatory reading for anyone interested in Kawar, Kanem-Borno, or the Central Sudan. While there are some arguments of the author we disagree with or find implausible or lacking adequate backing, Oasis of Salt is so far the best read on Kawar's history. Lovejoy's work is on the larger Central Sudan and should be read in conjunction, and Le Coeur's work, based on field experience and exposure to the Teda of Kawar and Tibetsi, should likewise be added to one's list. Taken together, the three provide a great overview and list of sources on Kawar's historic importance and role as a bridge between Kanem-Borno and the Mediterranean. We disagree with the author about the Kanuri of Kawar being the remnants of an original proto-Kanuri population that once lived further north, but he's likely right about the population always being, mostly, Sudanic. We would like a bit more details on the clan systems of the Teda and Kanuri before accepting his theory, though it does seem that early Kawar's population was closely related to the Kanembu and Kanuri. In addition, he's almost certainly correct about the Zaghawa/Banu Duku to Sayfawa "dynastic" change, too. It is far more likely that the Sayfawa dynasty and "Zaghawa" represented two local lineages rather than Hume being a Berber outsider. But based on our limited sources, Vikør does not agree with Lange that there definitely was a shift in dynasties from pre-Islamic Kanem to the Sayfawa. In light of his generally careful scholarship and useful references and translations, this is an enlightening history of a Saharan region whose entire existence is predicated on trade. 

Les oasis du Kawar: une route, un pays

Marguerite Le Coeur's unfortunate death deprived the world of a second volume on Kawar. The second volume would have continued the history of this important central Saharan region into the colonial period and 20th century. Fortunately, the first volume, a short history of the area leading up to French colonialism makes a fine attempt at tracing the historical development of the Kawar oasis beginning with the Garamantes and Antiquity. The main problem, a similar one we noticed with Maikorema Zakari's book, is the paucity or severe limitations of the sources. Le Coeur and her husband had extensive experience in ethnographic research among the Tubu of Kawar, but for this volume on the precolonial era, Le Coeur had to draw from mainly external Arabic sources, references to Kawar in Kanem-Borno sources, and European geographers and travelers for more recent periods. 

Surprisingly, Le Coeur did not cite some sources that could have aided in the attempted reconstruction of 19th century Kawar's ethnic dimensions (Tubu and Kanuri populations), such as Nicholas Said's autobiography. But based on Lucas, Lyon, Hornemann, Barth, Rohlfs, Nachtigal, Monteil, and a few other European writers, Le Coeur's attempts to fill in some of the gaps of the medieval sources offers some interesting ideas about social, religious, economic, and ethnic relations for the people of Kawar. Fortunately, al-Idrisi, Ibn Said, al-Yaqubi, the chronicles of Ahmad b Furtu, and the Diwan of Kanem-Borno offers some clues about the close relations between Kawar and Kanem, and perhaps the importance of clans of Tubu or Teda origin who, at various moments in the past of the Sayfawa dynasty, intermarried with the kings, probably promoting trans-Saharan trade through Kawar (which linked Lake Chad to the Fezzan and Tripoli). 

By contextualizing Kawar in the larger trans-Saharan trade networks and political or economic shifts in the Central Sudan, one can see Kawar's declining importance in the period of Bornoan decline (late 1700s and for much of the 19th century). However, Bilma's salt caravan remained significant and was directly connected to Aïr and Hausaland. So even as direct trans-Saharan trade between Tripoli and Borno declined, Bilma and other parts of Kawar remained of some importance for the salt and slave trade, despite suffering from Tuareg or Awlad Sulayman attacks or raids. But commerce was essential for Kawar, to supplement the meager diet of its inhabitants and for the local notables or traders (who had been engaging in long-distance trade since the medieval era if not earlier) and the "kings" of Kawar: Tubu rulers of the Tomagra or Tomaghera origin who charged a tax on caravans. 

Since our medieval Arabic sources don't provide enough detailed information, Le Coeur's endeavor to use the few clues from their work and the scholarship on the Tubu and Kanem-Borno provides some inconclusive or interesting speculation. The rise and fall of particular Kawar towns or villages remains unknown due to the possible name changes since the medieval era and even the questionable 'conquest' of Uqba b. Nafi in the 7th century. Who were the original inhabitants of the oasis is also unknown, but it seems likely that Kawar was always multiethnic and included, as noted by al-Yaqubi, Berbers who participated in the slave trade between Kanem and Zawila. The "Zaghawa" or Teda-Daza appear to have been in the region since the 9th century if not before, probaby migrating into and out of Kawar via the Tibetsi, Borku, Kanem, and Borno. 

Then, later migrations and settlers from Borno and the incorporation of slaves probably encouraged the Kanurization of parts of the Kawar, at least in the southern end. Perhaps the "Kanuri" presence was always in Kawar when Kanem-Borno effectively occupied or 'ruled' the oasis. Local architectural traditions might hint at this, as Kawar towns with clear street layouts and homes that were not huts appear to owe more to the Kanuri. As for why Le Coeur assumes the Tomagheras and Kayes were "Berbers" is unclear, but Kawar must have been influenced by Berber and other Ibadi Muslim traders in the 9th and 10th centuries, and perhaps the origins of the Tura and Kawarian traders described by al-Idrisi may have some link to these early Muslim traders. Indeed, we were surprised Le Coeur did not attempt to use the Borno mahrams more often, as they would perhaps hint at the importance of Tura traders of Kawar origins in supplying Borno with horses and perhaps the close links that connected the Sayfawa dynasty with Kawar.

Overall, Le Coeur's study is a good introduction and overview to a complex region of the Sahara with an ancient history that likely connects the Garamantes, Tubu and Lake Chad. We still have to read Knut S. Vikør's much longer, detailed history of Kawar's salt production but Les oasis du Kawar is a great place to start. Also included are some interesting photographs by the author of various ruins and sites, such as Bilma and Seguidine and some useful quotations and references from Monteil, Nachtigal, and other 19th century European accounts. 

Borno and Salt in the Central Sudan

Paul Lovejoy's Salt of the Desert Sun: A History of Salt Production and Trade in the Central Sudan is required reading for anyone interested in the production and trade of one of the major commodities used in the "Central Sudan" region of West Africa. Although mostly based on 19th century and colonial-era sources on salt production, markets, social relations, and political economy, Lovejoy's important study elucidates the importance of salts in the regional economy. If one can stomach the somewhat duller early chapters, the second half of the book contains rich details and references for specifics on social relations, labor, proprietorship, political factors, and changes in the development of salt production. While technologically quite "primitive" and limited by climactic variables and transportation, the role of salt in the region's economy was significant. It even contributed to Hausa and Central Sudan trade with the Volta Basin, especially for kola nuts. Indeed, the full scale of it can only be glimpsed because of our limited sources which largely date from the 19th and 20th centuries.

So, how did the Central Sudan's salt trade impact the development of Borno and Borno's hegemony in the region? For much of the precolonial era, particularly before the c.1759, Borno was the closest to creating a quasi-monopoly of salts in the region. Due to Borno's control of the Kawar desert salines as well as Sahelian and Lake Chad sources (salt and natron), it became the dominant player in the salt trade for centuries, probably as early as the 16th century. Salt was used for livestock, medicinal purposes, culinary tastes and industrial uses (tanning), so it was directly linked to agriculture, textiles, leatherwork, and long-distance trade. By controlling most of the sources of salts in the region before the Tuareg affiliated with Agadez seized control of the trade of Bilma by 1759, Borno was in a tremendous position to dominate the larger economy of the area. Borno's salt works in Mangari, or Gourbei, for instance, were relatively close to the capital city and its populous district. This district, according to Lovejoy, was also an agricultural center with a local textile industry. Lake Chad also served as a center for livestock-raising, which profited Borno's economy as it still dominated Kanem on the eastern shores of Lake Chad. 

Although the control of Kawar was central to Borno's interests in trans-Saharan trade, Lovejoy's text convincingly illustrates how the desert salines of Bilma and Fachi contributed to the bustling trade in salt across the Central Sudan. Additional sources of salt in the Sahelian region of Borno also contributed to the strong regional economy, which surely contributed to Borno's preeminence as the predominant power in the region. As Barkindo argued in the UNESCO series, Borno in the 1500s-1700s possessed a strong regional economy and salt surely played a role. Despite the limited sources, Lovejoy speculates that control of salines in the semi-arid Sahel zone of Borno was likely distributed through fiefs, whose holders were mostly based in Birni Gazargamo. Fief-holders and others who jostled for lucrative grants of fiefs may have relied on slave labor in Gourbei and other regions, suggesting that slaves procured via raids and trade with Bagirmi could have found local uses in Borno's local industries. Consequently, one can see how trans-Saharan and regional trade supported each other through various linkages. 

Unfortunately, this strong regional economy began to decay by the 18th century. The main victor of this process was the Sokoto Caliphate and the Hausa traders (though many were actually of Kanuri and Tuareg origins). The Tuareg of Agadez were able to seize control of the distribution of salt from Bilma and Fachi while continuing to supply salt from Teguidda to Hausaland. Increasingly, after 1759, the trade routes reoriented through the Tuareg networks in the desert to Hausa cities like Kano. Hausa traders, who were active in the kola trade, textile manufacturing and exports, and, through Kanuri-descended "Beriberi" traders, had access to salts from Borno and Foli in Kanem, were able to become the dominant market for salts while supplanting Borno's role. As convincingly laid out by Lovejoy, Borno gradually became an economic satellite of the Sokoto Caliphate, despite still occupying some importance from its Sahelian and Lake Chad salines. One would think the rise of Hausa traders moving kola nuts into the Central Sudan, plus the increase in textile production in areas such as Kano further eroded what remained of Borno's textiles and trade network. 

Thus, the Tuareg, by defeating the Koyam and nomadic allies of the Sayfawa rulers in the 18th century, replaced the Kanuri in the movement of desert salts to the savanna lands further south. Hausa traders and networks gradually replaced Borno merchants while incorporating some into their networks. Borno gradually became dependent on the Sokoto Caliphate after losing western territories, the Kawar, and, eventually, Kanem. Despite only being one of the major commodities exchanged in the Central Sudan, the loss of dominance of the salt trade was undeniably linked to Borno's gradual decline in the 18th and 19th centuries. Exactly how and why Borno's nomadic allies were defeated by the Tuareg and the Sayfawa rulers did not make more consistently forceful attempts to reassert their authority in Kawar is not clear. Regardless, their lack of forceful action in the late 18th century probably contributed to the weakness of the Sayfawa rulers in the face of Fulani jihadist attacks in the early 19th century. The Great Drought of 1738-1753, the defeat of Borno by Mandara in 1781, and possibly another drought in the 1790s or early 1800s must have also played a role in the long decline of the Sayfawa rulers.