Mozambiques and East Africans in Colonial Haiti

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

Michel, a Macoua (Makua) 

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

A Mozambique who spoke Portuguese and Spanish

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Short History of Mozambique

Due to our interest in the often neglected contributions of Mozambique and East Africa to the making of the Haitian people, we thought it would be worthwhile to familiarize ourselves with the general history of Mozambique by Newitt. While much weaker on the precolonial era and the slave trade than colonial and postcolonial Mozambican history, the details of Portuguese trade, influence and colonial domination of Mozambique was useful for understanding some of the dynamics that led to Mozambique contributing to the Indian Ocean and trans-Atlantic slave trade networks. The rise of the prazo system and the emergence of Afro-Portuguese leaders (often of Asian origin) who, essentially, became warlords and local rulers adopting African titles and intermarrying with local elites, helps us to understand how slavery, Portuguese influence (which was often quite weak as the prazos acted independently of Portugal) and warfare created the conditions for the French slave traders to acquire African captives who later, in part, were brought against their will to Saint Domingue. We also learned a little more about the Makonde and Makua peoples, as well as the social and economic relations occurring in the regionally divided sections of Mozambique which intensified the slave trade by the 19th century. One thing we know for sure, Portuguese colonialism in Mozambique was particularly pernicious and did irreparable harm to its people. 

Madagascar and Haiti

Thomas, a Madagascar captives listed in a notarial record from Jacmel, 1739. He may have arrived in Saint-Domingue on the ship, Saint-Michel, which imported 267 slaves into the colony in 1735.

One of the more interesting facets of the horrid annals of the French Slave Trade is the movement of over 20,000 captives from Southeast Africa to Saint-Domingue in the 18th century. Although only a fraction of the total imported slave population to colonial Haiti, this late 18th century trade (since most of the captives arrived from 1773-1792, though about 534 "Madagascar" captives were imported across the 1720s and 1730s on two voyages), the trade connected Haiti and the Atlantic with France's Indian Ocean trade and colonial interests in the Mascarenes. Unsurprisingly, most of the East African and Southeast African captives purchased by the French during the 18th century were destined for the Mascarenes, which even included a sizable enslaved population of Indians imported (which explains the tiny Asian Indian population in Saint-Domingue, too). 

Maroon Ali, a Griffe of Madagascar, posted in 1785.

The trade with Saint-Domingue was quite connected with this, however, as French ships traveling to Indian purchased goods that were then used to acquire slaves on the coast of Africa and Madagascar. Some of these ships then purchased captives from different parts of the Indian Ocean coast, sometimes acquiring captives from both Mozambique and Madagascar, before continuing into the Atlantic. Other ships, according to Jean Mettas's Répertoire des expéditions négrières françaises au XVIIIe siècle, even stopped at the Cape of Good Hope (purchasing things like vine) or on the coasts of Angola to acquire slaves for sale in Saint-Domingue. The full story of the role of the Mascarenes as a base for the French slave traders active in both the Indian Ocean and Atlantic Ocean is a story worthy of attention, as it fully connects the trade in bonded labor in both oceans/worlds while also presaging the later movement of indentured Indian labor and "liberated" Africans in postemancipation years.

Runaway ad for 2 Madagascar Africans, 1785.

Let us return to Madagascar, however. The fascinating thing is that, despite their relatively early appearance in the colony the Trans-Atlantic Database at slavevoyages.org only has 534 captives from Madagascar arrived in Saint-Domingue. Charlevoix, the Jesuit historian who wrote a history of the island in the 1730s, also mentioned small numbers of "Monomotapa" and Madagascar slaves in the colony, but neither group were highly esteemed in the colony. This may indicate that some of the 534 captives imported over the course of the 1720s-1730s included people who were later called "Mozambiques" or perhaps slaves purchased in Madagascar but from the mainland. A study of the Sakalava state and its role in the supply of slaves to Europeans in the period would be potentially fruitful for understanding the origins of Madagascar captives in the Americas. Regardless, the presence of Southeast Africans was clearly very minor in the first half of the 18th century. Perusing the notarial records for different parishes of the colony may reveal more of their numbers, as our example of Thomas, an enslaved person in the Jacmel area illustrates. Some free people of color in the colony were also reputed to be descendants of Madagascar slaves, such as the Roumat of Jacmel. Perhaps Jacmel received a disproportionate share of "Madagascar" slaves in the 1720s and 1730s? If they were not highly desired, some of the indigo and sugar planters in the Jacmel quarter may have been more desperate and willing to accept them?

Runaway ad for Zephir, a Malgache with an Indian accent, 1788.

However, with the rapid expansion of the slave trade with Southeast Africa in the last 2 decades of the 18th century, the Madagascar captives reappear. And this is in spite of the overwhelming majority of captives from this region being acquired from Mozambique. According to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade database, 15,280 "Mozambiques" were disembarked in Saint-Domingue with another  2644 purchased from the area of Kilwa. Clearly, for the Malagasy to reappear in Saint-Domingue during the final 2 decades of colonial rule, some must have been acquired from the Mascarenes, unspecified ports, or ships that purchased captives at multiple areas in Southeast Africa. Consulting the work of Mettas provides a few examples of slavers that did exactly this, purchasing some captives in Madasgascar and the Mascarenes but bringing cargos mainly consisting of "Mozambiques" to Saint-Domingue. One particular example, La Victoire, picked up around 80 captives at Bombetoc before continuing its voyage toward the Atlantic in 1785. We suspect this may have occurred more often than recognized or detectable from surviving sources, particularly given the large Madagascar component of the enslaved population in the Mascarenes during this era. Perhaps a decent chunk of the 1,449 slaves from unspecificied Southeast African ports were Malagasy.

A 1773 runaway ad for a Malgaffe, or Malgasse, slaves. 1773 is also the year of the earliest known direct slave imports from Mozambique to Saint-Domingue. A baker in Leogane also posted for sale a Madagascar domestic, Bourbon, in 1775.

As the above runaway ad illustrates, the reappearance of Madagascar slaves in Saint-Domingue coincided with the year of the first documented slave ship bringing captives from Mozambique to the colony. Since the return of Malagasy captives to Saint-Domingue happened at the same time as the larger scale trade in Malagasy captives to the Mascarenes, ethnic groups appearing there likely indicate the same origins of Madagascar slaves in Haiti. Madagascar natives enslaved in the Mascarenes were drawn from the following groups and areas: Antateimo, Betsileo, Hova, Sakalava, according to Baron d'Unienville. Allen, citing a 1817 slaves register on Mauritius, lists the following groups found there: Ambanivolo, Amboalambo (Merina), Andrantsay, Antaisaka, Antalaotra, Antanosy, Antatsimo, Betanimena, Maninga (sic), Marvace (sic) and Sakalava. Although these are the known ethnic groups for 19th century Malagasy slaves in the Mascarenes, one is probably on safe ground to suspect that it was similar in its ethnic distribution in the late 18th century. Interestingly, we do not see the Bara people listed, a group who, per the speculative reasoning of Jean Fouchard, may have provided the name or at least influenced Haiti's national dance. 

The sale of a Madagascar slave sailor who could speak very good French, in 1786.

To what extent these Malagasy peoples contributed to the formation of Haitian culture is unclear. Their numbers were far smaller than those of "Mozambique" origin, and the "Mozambiques" do not appear to have bequeathed too much to Haitian culture. However, genetic studies of the Haitian population undoubtedly reflects Southeast African ancestry, as a survey of Haitian African matches by the Tracing African Roots project indicates. Nonetheless, an African person of Madagascar origin was the subject of a Haitian newspaper article in 1839. Named Lundi, this Madagascar native was a slave and master sucrier on the Santo habitation in the Croix-des-Bouquet area. Apparently, he saved the estate 3 times during the tumultuous years of the Haitian Revolution and post-1804 conflicts. The article, published in L'Union, praises Lundi while also lamenting the demise of Haiti's sugar production. Due to the class biases of the author and the interests of some of the journal's contributors in reviving large-scale plantation agriculture, one should probably interpret the story of Lundi very carefully. However, it is one of the few accounts mentioning people of Malagasy origin in 19th century Haiti.