Showing posts with label Senegal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Senegal. Show all posts

10/27/25

Jean-Baptiste Belley


Somehow we forgot about Jean-Baptiste Belley, perhaps one of the most famous "Senegal" Africans in colonial Haiti. Born a slave, Belley gained his freedom and was one of the prominent free blacks in Okap during the late 18th century. Belley even represented Saint Domingue in France, where the famous portrait above was completed.

10/25/25

"Senegal" Nation and the Senegambia

 

The "Senegal" nation was consistently present among African slaves in Saint Domingue. Throughout the entire colonial era, the slave trade continued to bring captives of Bambara, Mandingue, Poulard, Wolof and "Senegal" backgrounds. Sadly, it is often unclear what people(s) were considered to be part of the "Senegal" nation. Some, with Muslim-sounding names like Aoua, mentioned above, could have come from a number of Senegalese ethic groups. 

Some Senegalese had their African names like Aoua. 

Some people referenced themselves as Poulard (Fulani) but were lumped into the generic "Senegal" nation. Was Auguste, for example, of Toucouleur extraction?


The "Senegalese" named Mallac might bear his African name. We assume Mallac may be Malik. 

Sometimes, the Poulard or Peuls were named as Foulany, or Fulani. It is under this name that Descourtilz wrote about Muslim Fulani captives in Saint Domingue.


Sometims, captives purchased from the coast of Senegal were explicitly labelled as Wolof, or Yolof. This Wolof presence can be attested by words of Wolof origin in Haitian Creole. But we assume Soninke, Serer, Toucouleur, Poulard, Bambara, and Mandingues were all part of the ensemble of "nations" captured and sold to the French slave traders on the coast. 

5/25/25

The Empire of Wagadu: The State of the Question

Boubacar Séga Diallo's L’empire du Wagadu: état de la question was rather underwhelming. We were expecting a condensed version of his thesis that draws more heavily on Soninke oral traditions, linguistics, and archaeology to sketch a fuller picture of the historical state of Ghana (Wagadu) known from external Arabic sources. However, the reader mainly receives a summary on the history of Wagadu with occasional references to oral traditions, archaeological evidence from Kumbi or Mali, and some undefended assertions about topics like the antiquity of caste or the prevalence of slavery in ancient Soninke society. Perhaps, if Diallo's thesis is published, the reader can benefit from a West African scholars deep exploration of Soninke tradition in light of other types of evidence. Without that, we are sadly left with a very brief summary that also repeats the typical line of Almoravid victory over Ghana. It would also have been interesting if the author tried to speculate about the magico-religious powers of the rulers of Wagadu and how that shaped the political structure of the state.

11/7/24

Ahyssa, the Moor

One of those interesting cases which produced documentation on the specific origins of an enslaved  African in Saint Domingue is the case of Ahyssa. A "Moor" from the northern side of the Senegal River, she was kidnapped and enslaved in the Caribbean. We first read of her in passing, in a work by Haitian historian Jean Fouchard. Her case is interesting for what it says about colonial perceptions of Arabs and non-black Africans, as well as the somewhat detailed account of her background in Africa. 

According to a brief extract of the legal proceedings of case, published in a Journal des Causes celebres, Ahyssa came from the Ouled arcalapha tribe of "Moors" living about 80 lieus from the mouth of the Senegal. Her people were herders involved in the gum trade. The records of her case even provide the name of her parents, as well as general details about how the Arabs in her region recognized the authority of the Moroccan sultan. The racialized interpretation of their relations with black Africans south of the Senegal is also repeatedly emphasized, being presented as one driven by primordial animosity. We even learn the specific conditions of her enslavement, which were instigated by a black man, Aly Samba, who guided New England traders into the community of Ahyssa. Apparently, European and Western traders sometimes purchased black slaves from the communities on the other side of the river while buying gum and other goods from the Moors to the north. While initially presenting themselves as traders, the New England bandits raided and pillaged, kidnapping people and stealing. That is how Ahyssa ended up on a ship that carried her to Grenada, in the Antilles. What happened to the other Arabs kidnapped and sold into slavery in Grenada is never addressed.

Ahyssa's owner in the Antilles, a Cassarouy, was partly responsible for her kidnapping in West Africa. He later brought her with him to Martinique and Le Cap, in Saint-Domingue. After becoming ill, he promised her freedom in his 1774 testament. Furthermore, we are led to believe he supposedly never treated like a slave or subjected her to cruel actions. Based on this special treatment, one suspects Cassarouy treated Ahyssa, renamed Colombe, as a concubine or lover. Nonetheless, she found out to her horror that after her master's death, she was to be sold as a slave of the estate of the deceased Cassarouy. With the aid of a curator, she fought this and claimed her freedom as a "Moor" kidnapped from her homeland. Thanks to this, we have records of her case which are replete with details of her capture and her African background. In her case, her specifically non-black origins were a central part of the reason she was not considered legally enslaveable, and therefore deserved to have her emancipation recognized. 

Perhaps this case illustrates how, by 1776, racial lines in Saint Domingue had consolidated around more overtly racist ideology that specifically targeted "blackness" as fit for enslavement. Those of Indian (Amerindian) or Arab origin, however, could resist this. In Ahyssa's case, since she was possibly seen as a "mulatto" in Saint-Domingue's racial classificatory scheme, her Moor, or Arab background, were central to buttressing her claim to freedom. This may also explain why the case stresses racial animosity and conflict between Moors, or Arabs, and black Africans of the Senegambian region. The argument in favor of her independence also went into great depth to describe how, despite the occasional resemblance of races like hers with the "mulattoes" of Saint Domingue, a glance at Ahyssa was enough to illustrate that she was not actually one. She was, regardless of how dusky or tawny her skin color may have been, an Arab and the background of hostility between her people and black Africans may have been utilized in her case to stress this by Moreau de Saint-Mery. Furthermore, the fact that the English took her captive rather than the French was another point in favor of her liberation, since the French were supposedly more interested in maintaining peaceful relations with the Moors near the Senegal River.

Interestingly, it seems like claiming freedom on the grounds of being Arab did not work so well in the case of "Nar" captives in Louisiana. Labeled by a Wolof term for them, the Arab slaves of Louisiana do not seem to have able to escape their condition based on that argument. And they were sometimes explicitly linked with other "Negroes" among the captive slaves in Louisiana, despite occasionally being referred to as red or lighter-skinned. Midlo Hall's database on slaves in Louisiana is an excellent resource to learn more about the "Nar" or "Nards" in Louisiana. 

10/11/24

"Mali" Ancestry


Another interesting thing about the Ancestry Update is seeing the 4 reference populations used for their "Mali" region. This area is based on the Bambara, Dogon, Fula and Mende, although they also state that populations with similar genetic background can be found in Burkina Faso, Cote D'Ivoire, Gambia, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Niger, Senegal (as well as Mali and Sierra Leone). Our Haitian parent, the origin of our "Mali" ancestry, has also matched with people from this region as distant cousins (1 from Mali, another from Sierra Leone of a Mandinka background). Since "Mandingues" and "Bambaras" were present in Saint-Domingue, it seems very likely that some of our ancestors came from this region of West Africa. Indeed, Ancestry assigned us 6% in the 2024 update, and the "hacked" results put it at 6.89% for "Mali." Perhaps some of our distant forebears were from Segu or Kaarta, but were captured and sold to the French slave traders on the coast of Senegal?

Ancestry's "Senegal" category also overlaps with this, which we inherited from both sides for a total of 4% (3.80% according to the "hacked" results). Alas, the specific ethnic groups used as reference for this category are not listed, although we know Poulards, "Senegalois" and Wolofs were in Saint-Domingue. We suspect the "Senegal" inherited from our Spanish Caribbean ancestry might reflect some of the ethnic groups known to be in the West Indies in the 1500s and 1600s, such as the Wolof, Berbersi, and others. Unfortunately, without knowing the ethnic breakdown of the reference populations for "Senegal" and other West African regions, like Ivory Coast and Ghana, it is difficult to say. 

3/7/23

Ghana and Wagadu

"A discussion of the traditions of Wagadu with some reference to ancient Ghāna, including of review of oral accounts, Arabic sources and archaeological evidence" by Abdoulaye Bathily effectively combines linguistic, textual, and oral sources. A speaker of the Soninke language who brings an internal perspective on the deeply ancient Soninke, Bathily dispels some of the worst (and racist) theories while pushing for a more balanced interpretation of the oral traditions, external Arabic sources, Timbuktu chronicles, and cultural evidence. Delafosse, Frobenius and their ilk are proven incorrect and fanciful, particularly the notion of ancient Judeo-Syriens colonizing West Africa in Antiquity before founding Ghana. Moreover, Bathily's knowledge of Soninke language and culture allows him to craft more plausible theories and interpretations of medieval Arabic sources such as al-Bakri while suggesting a more likely interpretation from the limited archaeological sources on Dhar Tichitt and Kumbi. Bathily's essay is truly exemplary and it is a shame scholarship on Wagadu has not advanced significantly since it was published. 

Bathily also applies common sense to parse the meaning of the the genealogies and oral traditions from the Soninke or the Timbuktu chroniclers who sought to link Soninke origins to the Middle East. Clearly, the Soninke were later influenced by Islamic conceptions and some "remixed" their genealogies, oral histories and legends to reflect this. If Islamization was already a process impacting the Soninke of Wagadu, or Ghana before the Almoravid movement (and Bathily is agnostic on the Almoravid conquest or its alleged role in hastening Islamization), then anyone attempting to interpret the references to the Middle East or Islam should know not to interpret it literally. Indeed, even al-Idrisi in the 12th century reported Alid ancestry for the kings of Wagadu, suggesting these should probably not be taken at face-value. In addition, Bathily's study suggests one should not interpret the legends of Wagadu's fall as necessarily meaning climate change, servile chiefs or lineages in revolt or a dramatic conflict between "traditional" religion and Islam. For instance, some of the traditions collected by Monteil suggest Sumanguru was a slave official of Wagadu who broke away. Yet other traditions do not mention that. His appendix, consisting of the Soninke original and translation of 2 oral traditions on Wagadu origin, demonstrates that any historical reconstruction of deep Wagadu history clearly require careful ethnographic and linguistic expertise. However, the current academic research may have stronger evidence today about the role climate change in influencing Ghana's decline. Nonetheless, it would not necessarily elucidate the decline of Ghana if indeed Ghana's capital city shifted. In fact, Bathily suggests that Kumbi may have only been one of the possibly many capitals of Ghana, if indeed different ruling clans or factions of the ruling clan switched political capitals. Such a theory would be consistent with post-Wagadu Soninke kingdoms and chiefdoms. It also suggests climate change might not have been so significant of a factor if indeed Ghana had a multiplicity of capitals, including some further south.

Where Bathily's essay especially shines is the analysis of the Arabic sources. Knowing that Kaya Magha as a title does not exist in Soninke, but could have been Kuya Manga (a nickname of a royal title for Wagadu), Bathily additionally explains that Ghana or Gana does not exist as a title among the Soninke. Perhaps, as suggested by Bathily, Ghana derived from the Berber word for bush, agan, since al-Bakri also identified the capital as al-ghaba. It is speculation on his part, but perhaps that Berber term was misapplied or misunderstood by al-Bakri and others to refer to the entire kingdom. Yet the identification of Wagadu as the Ghana of the medieval Arabic sources can be established from other words of Soninke origin appearing in al-Bakri. For instance, the name of a Ghana king, Tunkamenin, is actually derived from the title Tunka. Indeed, it is possible that that Tunkamenin's successor was his Tunka Lemmine, or younger relative chosen to help an elder king rule the kingdom. If indeed the kings of Wagadu were often elders or seniors of the ruling clan(s), then like later Soninke rulers, they might have chosen a younger relative to assist in administration. Perhaps this younger relative was often a nephew of the king, which confused al-Bakri into thinking the kingdom of Ghana practiced matrilineal succession. After all, according to Bathily, the Soninke were not matrilineal but practiced endogamy and stressed relations between maternal uncles and nephews. We also learn from Bathilily that a group who were probably Soninke but not identified as Ghana (the Zafun) were probably adherents of some type of snake cult or religious pratice. Even today, the Soninke possess a taboo against killing the biida snake, which suggests that the "traditional" religion of Wagadu was similar to that of the Ziafun and the Soninke today. All of this suggests the Ghana of the medieval Arabic sources was indeed a Soninke kingdom, probably Wagadu (derived from wago or wage, for the ruling clans who may have alternated in their control). Evidence from the ethnographic present, the history of later Soninke kingdoms, linguistics, and archaeology points to a Soninke identification for Ghana and it almost certainly being the Wagadu remembered in Soninke traditions.

Where things become even more speculative or questionable is the ultimate origin of the Soninke. Were they from the Sahel but eventually dispersed after Wagadu's fall? Bathily is sure they did not come from the Middle Niger. Soninke place names like Biru (Walata) and the archaeological evidence based on Munson's work does seem to point to a northern origin. But is Bathily correct about the possible role of slavery's growing importance during the increase in agricultural activity manifested during the Dhar Tichitt phase? What was the relationship with early trans-Saharan trade and Libyco-Berbers? To what extent was the Wagadu polity administered through slave officials? And what was the origin of occupational castes among the Soninke and related Mande groups? Many questions remain unanswered but Bathily's article points us in some fruitful directions with a robust use of the available sources. 

7/28/22

Muslims in Saint Domingue

Despite some of the strong assertions by scholars of a prominent role played by enslaved Muslims in Saint Domingue, most sources do appear not support that narrative. Two scholars in particular, Diouf and Gomez, promote unsubstantiated or speculative claims of prominent leaders among the slave rebels being Muslim. A Haitian blogger, Salnave, has dedicated several articles to disproving the thesis, albeit adding some of his own speculations in certain cases. So, what do the sources actually reveal about the presence of Muslims among the enslaved in Saint Domingue? And of what import does it come to bear on the history of slavery and Haiti? And how has the narrative of Islamic influences in the Haitian Revolution contributed to or hindered our understanding of it?

First, the sources can be uncertain or vague, and it is wrong-headed to attribute a Muslim identity to an African based on the name or assigned "nation." Our nearly encyclopedic source of information about the colony, Moreau de Saint-Méry, mentioned that many of the enslaved West Africans coming from the regions of the Senegal River to Sierra Leone were Muslims, but they mix Islam with idolatry. These aforementioned "nations" of Africans consisted of the Senegalese, Wolof, Poulards, Bambaras, Quiambas, Mandingues, Bissagots, and Soso, groups whose islamization, in some cases, postdates Haitian independence. In addition to some Islamic influences among captives from that region of West Africa, he claimed there were some Muslims from other areas of West Africa who mixed some Islamic practices with their idolatry (these "nations" coming from the lands from Cap Apollonie to the Gold Coast and Galba). However, Moreau de Saint-Méry's proves himself somewhat unreliable because he claims one of the few ways to tell if some West Africans were Muslim is if they were circumcised. He appears to think circumcision in Africa is linked to Islam, so one must question his claims of Islamic practices and influences upon the enslaved population. But his assertions of a Muslim presence among some of these groups is supported by Charlevoix, whose history of Saint Domingue mentions some Senegal Muslims in the colony.

Moreover, he also reveals himself to be a questionable witness because he claims the "Congo" included some with Islamic practices. The presence of Islam in West Central Africa during the 18th century was likely minimal, far less influential there than West Africa. Unless some of the captives came from areas of what are now eastern Congo, the Central African Republic, or Chad, their exposure to Islam was probably non-existent. Furthermore, many of the aforementioned "nations" who may have been Muslim or exposed to Islam, were largely practicing "traditional" religions until the 19th and 20th centuries (the Bambara come to mind). It is certainly possible that some of the previously mentioned West African "nations" included Muslims, as well as the Hausa, Yoruba, and Nupe, and additional captives from southeastern Africa. Indeed, there is also a remote chance of Muslim captives arriving in the colony from the Swahili Coast, Madagascar or India, though very unlikely. However, without more sources, assuming a significant Muslim presence among the enslaved population of Saint Domingue is speculative.

Another source used by Diouf and Gomez, Colonel Malenfant, attests to the presence of some literate Muslims in the colony. During the Haitian Revolution, slave rebels sometimes wore amulets with Arabic writing, a practice that was also common among non-Muslim groups in West Africa. Malenfant also describes an encounter with a literate African, named Tamerlan, who claimed to have come from a kingdom where writing and the production of books was common. Gomez deduced that Tamerlan was likely from a Muslim kingdom in West Africa, and the example of writing he produced for Malenfant, a long prayer of twenty lines written in a script Malenfant could not recognize, may have been ajami. Nonetheless, based on Malenfant's account of Tamerlan's literacy (one in a script associated with "long-haired mulattoes," perhaps the Tuareg or another population in the Sahel), Tamerlan assured him it was not Arabic. But, if it was ajami writing, however, one would think Tamerlan could have explained that to Malenfant? 

But, other details of Tamerlan's life before captivity do suggest a possible Muslim background. In addition to his role as a priest, instructor to a prince and maker of books or manuscripts, or so he claimed, he revealed to Malenfant that his hometown possessed 300,000 inhabitants. This is probably a reference to the total population the surrounding area of the capital city, not the royal capital itself. Intriguingly, the former capital city of the Bornu kingdom was, according to Dixon Denham, 200,000, before its fall during the early 19th century. It is likely that the majority of the structures in the city were constructed with wood or straw, like other cities of West Africa. Is there a chance Tamerlan was from the Kingdom of Bornu? He also said that he had not seen whites in his city, but the aforementioned long-haired mulattoes, probably a reference to the Tuareg or Berbers. He probably would have met other "whites" from Arab populations connected to Bornu via trans-Saharan networks, so uncertainty lingers. When he was captured, it took more than 3 months for him to reach the coast, where whites loaded the captives onto slave ships. This suggests he was from deep in the interior of what was most likely West Africa. The city of his king was built in wood, mostly of single-story homes. If true, then Tamerlan came from a very large city ruled by a powerful king. It is possible Tamerlan exaggerated some of these details to give an image of greater grandeur to his African past, but he clearly longed to return. According to Malenfant, he was one of the "few" Africans who wised to return to the continent, which suggests he probably enjoyed a position of great status. In consideration of all of the above, it is possible Tamerlan was indeed a Muslim from West Africa, but Malenfant's account is shrouded in hazy memory and doubt to prove it. Either way, Malenfant's memory of Tamerlan was linked to accounts of Muslim slaves in Saint Domingue.

Our next, and perhaps best source on Muslims in Saint Domingue, may corroborate a Muslim origin of Tamerlan. Etienne Michel Descourtilz, while at the Rossignol-Desdunes habitation in the Artibonite, collected details and accounts of the various African "nations" he encountered in Saint Domingue. For most, there is no mention of Islam. "Nations" which may have contained Islamic practitioners were not mentioned as Muslim. For instance, the Mozambiques are classified as Catholic and "Vaudoux" adherents, suggesting that most of the captives from southeastern Africa were not Muslim. There could have been a few who were, either from Mozambique, Tanzania, or Madagascar, but without sources it remains speculation. If anything, Descourtilz's experiences with Africans in Artibonite and Saint Domingue attests to the limited presence of Muslims among the enslaved, as the vast majority are mentioned with any reference to Islam.

Yet, Descourtilz does provide the best direct evidence of practicing Muslims in Saint Domingue. His two groups are the Phylani (Fulani), the Islamized among the Poulard of West Africa, and the "Beurno." His account of the former compares them to the Jews, although he describes their god as being Allah. The Phylani lived a nomadic lifestyle in Africa, stressed filial piety, and referred to their priest as "alpha." The Phylani group's religious holidays, abstention from pork, and prayers clearly demonstrate Islamic practices. Their priest or alpha was also literate, like Tamerlan. Besides the Phylani Muslim community in the colony, who were probably a very tiny one, Descourtilz wrote about the "Beurno" and their kingdom in Africa with some detail. According to Descourtilz, some slaves from "Beurno" toiled on the Rossignold-Desdunes plantation, thereby giving him multiple chances to speak with and observe the customs of "Beurno" Africans. 

"Beurno" is undoubtedly a reference to Bornu, a long-established kingdom in West Africa with roots in ancient Kanem. Their kings had converted to Islam several centuries before, and many of its subjects appear to have converted to Islam long before the Fulani jihads of the 1800s. Evidence of the Islamic influence upon the "Bornu" Africans can be found in what Descourtilz described as their strict submission of women to men, and gender separation of married women and men. According to Descourtilz, the religion of the Bornu resembled that of the Phylani, and they shared in their abstention from pork (they only consumed meat blessed by their alpha, or priest). Literacy was also present among the Bornu, who can read, write, transmit the code of their divine law. Descourtilz even described their custom of writing on wooden planks, a custom still seen in parts of Muslim West Africa. The religious texts produced in Bornu were highly valued, and many were willing to pay dearly or sell their livestock to purchase said texts. In short, the "Beurno" described by Descourtilz were, in at least some cases, devout Muslims whose social practices were influenced by Islam. The description of the king of "Beurno" and the prevalence of the slave trade also confirms the Bornu identification, although the specific "Beurno" captives met by Descourtilz were the defeated in a battle with rivals of Bornu.

So, via Descourtilz, we have direct accounts of at least two Islamized groups in Saint Domingue. It is unclear what their total numbers were, but a group of the "Beurno" were working at the Rossignol-Desdunes plantation. For the Phylani Muslims, their numbers were likely small, too. Descourtilz does not offer much in terms of understanding the influence of these two groups on other slaves, and their small numbers and distinct religion may have encouraged them to look inward and try to preserve some of their customs and practices. If they were like African Muslims in other parts of the Caribbean, they may have been able to survive as a small community for a few generations. But, if evidence from Trinidad and elsewhere is relevant to Saint Domingue and Haiti, one would think most of the Muslims in Saint Domingue vanished after a few generations or merged into the general population, possibly converting to Catholicism or joining Vodou adherents. I have yet to come across any sources attesting to Muslim communities after independence, and claims of Muslim Mandingue in Balan are likely exaggerated. 

 To conclude, one must admit the idea of an Islamic contribution to the making of Haiti clearly resonates with some of the African Diaspora. To me, it seems to be a reflection of inaccurate histories of Islam in Africa, black nationalist romances of Islam as "our religion" and, in some cases, an outdated civilizationist and vindicationist discourse used by some Haitian intellectuals to elevate the status of some of our forebears. Clearly, Price-Mars and Jean Fouchard thought very highly of the famous kingdoms and empires of the medieval Western Sudan. Some, like Fouchard, attribute literacy and refinement to these people through their contact with Arabs and Islam. Thus, they can foment a counter-narrative that suggests our African ancestors were not all illiterate peoples removed from the most important aspects of civilization. Of course, one would hope proponents of the Islamic theory distance themselves from that paradigm, but there is still a remnant of it in the way some scholars describe the esteem enslaved Muslims received from their masters. Undoubtedly it lives on through the legacy of Edward Blyden and 20th century Black Muslim movements. Regardless, we are stuck at the impasse described in Reed's Mumbo Jumbo, with Islam, Vodun, and "Atenism" as competing forces. 

Ultimately, the benefit of this revisionist scholarship, for what it's worth, is that it does shed light and add nuance to our understanding of the various peoples in Saint Domingue. It helps piece together who the forced migrants were, what their values may have been, and the kinds of societies from which they sprang. Indeed, Descourtilz's essay on the African "nations" of Saint Domingue was intimately linked to a history of Africa. Malenfant recognized the great use captives like Tamerlan could have for the European exploration of the African continent. Consequently, studying the origins of the African populations of Saint Domingue is also a study of the history of Africa. But until new evidence emerges, the tale of Islam in Saint Domingue will be one of a small minority who have contributed to the mosaic of Africa that is Haiti. The blog of Salnave has already demonstrated how limited the Islamic presence was and its role in the Haitian Revolution, but there will always be room for new interpretations and conclusions about the birth of Haiti.

Bibliography 

Charlevoix, Pierre-François-Xavier de, and Jean Baptiste Le Pers. Histoire de l'isle espagnole ou de S. Domingue: ecrite particulierement sur des memoires manuscrits du p. Jean-Baptiste le Pers, Jesuite, missionnaire à Saint Domingue, & sur les pieces originales, qui se conservent au Dépôt de la marine. Amsterdam: F. L'Honoré, 1733.

Denham, Dixon, Hugh Clapperton, and Walter Oudney. Travels and Discoveries in Northern and Central Africa: In 1822, 1823, and 1824. London: J. Murray, 1831.

Descourtilz, Michel Étienne. Voyages d'un naturaliste, et ses observations faites sur les trois regnes de la Nature, dans plusieurs ports de mer francais, en Espagne, au continent d'Amerique septentrionale, Saint-Yago de Cuba, et Saint Domingue, ou l'Auteur devenu le prisonnier de 40,000 Noirs revoltes, et par suite mis en liberte par une colonne de l'armee frangais, donne des details circonstancies sur l'expedition du general Leclercvols. Paris: Dufart, 1809.

Diouf, Sylviane A. Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas. New York: New York University Press, 1998. 

Geggus, David. "The French Slave Trade: An Overview." The William and Mary Quarterly 58, no. 1 (2001): 119-38. Accessed October 3, 2020. doi:10.2307/2674421.

Gomez, Michael A. Black Crescent: The Experience and Legacy of African Muslims in the Americas. Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 

Khan, Aisha. "Islam, Vodou, and the Making of the Afro-Atlantic." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 86, no. 1/2 (2012): 29-54. Accessed October 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41850693.

Malenfant, Col. Des colonies, et particulièrement de celle de Saint-Dominique: mémoire historique et politique, ou l'on trouvera, 1o un exposé impartial des causes et un précis historique des guerres civiles qui ont rendu cette dernière colonie indépendante, 2o des considérations sur l'importance de la rattacher à la métropole et sur les moyens de le renter avec succès, d'y ramener une paix durable, d'en rétablir et accroître la prospérité.
Paris: Audibert, (C.-F. Patris), 1814.

Moreau de Saint-Méry, Méderic Louis Élie. Description topographique, physique, civile, politique et historique de la partie françoise de l'isle Saint-Domingue. 3 vols. Philadelphia:  1797.

Salnave, Rodney. "Saint Domingue's islamized were submissive". September 29, 2020 ; Updated Sept. 30, 2020. [online] URL : https://bwakayiman.blogspot.com/2020/09/Saint-Domingues-submissive-islamized.html ; Retrieved on October 1, 2020.

7/3/22

Takrur and the Coast?

One of the early West African states whose rulers converted to Islam at an early date was Takrur, located in the Middle Senegal Valley. Takrur became so well-known in Egypt and the Middle East that the name of their kingdom became a common appellation for the entirety of the "Western Sudan." Yet, despite Takrur being well-known to informed persons in Egypt, Syria, and North Africa from at least the 11th century onwards, surprisingly little is known of it. Prior to al-Bakri there does not appear to be any extant Arabic records that explicitly allude to the kingdom of Takrur. Yet archaeological evidence suggests the rise of polities along the Senegal River by the 500s, with ties to long-distance trade, iron metallurgy, riverine resources, and salt. Evidence of camel remains in the Senegal River Valley also suggest possibly ancient forms of trans-Saharan contact, or at least movement of peoples and goods from the southern Sahara to the Sahel and savanna. This period, perhaps corresponding with the early Jaa Ogo dynasty of Takrur, may have consolidated through iron metallurgy and this intra-regional trade. 

Part of the problem for Takrur may be Ghana overshadowing it, despite Takrur's conversion to Islam before Ghana. Ghana was mentioned first in external Arabic sources, and although Takrur was never subdued by Ghana, the latter kingdom may have been the more powerful with better connections to the sources of gold used in trans-Saharan contact. One also suspects that Takrur, located on the western end of the Sudanic region, may have suffered from its more peripheral location with regards to the movement of goods from West Africa to the Maghrib and Egypt. Takrur, and other parts of the Senegal River Valley, would also later fall under the domination of Mali, and may have been important for access to sea salt as an additional source besides Saharan mines. Unfortunately, the number of primary sources which could shed light on the nature of Takrur and its trading partners is restricted to the external Arabic sources which point to ties with the "Lamlam" (victims of Takrur slave raids), Awdaghust, Awlil, and traders from the east and north (Arabs and Berbers were also active in towns under Takrur, including the eponymous capital and Silla. 

However, surprisingly, little attention has been paid to Takrur's access to sea salt and coastal trade with North Africa. Due to the paucity of sources, one cannot ascertain to what extent this actually occurred, but Takrur was intimately linked to Awlil and, presumably, the island of Ayuna, a source of sea salt, ambergris, and turtle meat located somewhere on the mouth of the Senegal River or Mauritanian coast. Since Takrur was known for the export of gold and slaves, one would think some of these exports would have traveled west along the Senegal River to Awlil, where ships from the Maghrib were said to have visited. Indeed, Arabic sources allude to Awlil as the last point ships from the Maghrib traveled to, implying it was a well-known anchorage and presumably engaging in trade with the local Banu Gudala Berbers. For example, the Kital al-Istibsar of the 12th century makes this clear:

There is a salt mine also in the land of the Gudala at a place called Walili on the coast of the Ocean and from there it is carried by caravan to the neighboring countries. Near Walili in the sea is an island called Ayuna. At high tide it may be reached only by boats, but at low tie it may be reached on foot. Much ambergris is found there. The people there mainly live on the flesh of turtles, which are very abundant in that place and are so extremely large that a man may get into the shell (mahar) taken from a turtle's back and go fishing in the seas, as in a boat (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 142).

This same source mentions the island of Ayuna as "the farthest point reached by ships and the last anchorage in the Maghrib." And while it points to the salt from "Walili" being traded overland, earlier sources, mainly al-Idrisi, point to the use of river boats to transport salt: 

The Island of Awlil is in the sea near the coast. The famous salt deposit is there. No other salt deposit is known in the land of the Sudan. The salt is carried from there to all the towns of the Sudan. Boats come to this island, and the salt is loaded on them. The boats then go to the mouth of the Nil, which is one day's run from the island. They then proceed up the Nile to Sila, Takrur, Barisa, Ghana, and the other towns of Wanqara and Kugha as well as to all the towns of the Sudan" (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 106-107).

While secondary sources seem to disagree on when or if Takrur ever directly seized control of Awlil, al-Idrisi places the town of Awlil in the lands of the Maqzara of the Sudan. Ibn Sa'id also quoted al-Idrisi's statement, indicating the use of ships to carry salt from Awlil up the Senegal River. Of course, al-Idrisi's conception of every West Africa town lying along the "Nile" was incorrect, but he was probably correct in the use of ships from Awlil to carry salt directly to the "Land of the Blacks," which would have required it to pass through lands controlled by the kingdom of Takrur, which dominated Sila, Barisa, and, by the 13th century, Qalanbu (possibly the ancient kingdom of Galam), a well-known river port. One would assume the ancient town of Sanghana, consisting of two towns on both banks of the Senegal River, and said by al-Bakri to be closest to the Banu Gudala territory, fell under the rule of Takrur. 

One would think the rulers of Takrur would have endeavored to benefit from a coastal trade route to their west as well as the more well-known overland routes to Awdaghust and beyond. Al-Bakri and others mention Awlil as a source of salt for Awdaghust's trade with the lands to the south, and probably the source of Awdaghust's ambergris trade. Why not also trade gold, slaves, ivory, cotton, and other commodities along the Senegal River, dominated by Takrur, to the west to Awlil, where ships from the Mediterranean could transfer goods to the Maghrib and beyond? This would have allowed Takrur access to goods from the north without relying solely on Awdaghust or Ghana and its trading network to the east. Moreover, it may have increased the reputation of the kingdom as a source for gold from Bambuk and other lands without the costly trans-Saharan journey. 

Unfortunately, none of the Arabic sources are sufficiently clear to establish a regular coastal trade at Awlil that linked Takrur to the Mediterranean. Indeed, some of the sources suggest a possible pre-Islamic trade that connected Takrur to the mysterious Qamnuriya "Sudan" to the north, using ancient overland trade routes. Besides, other accounts of shipwrecks of mariners from the Mediterranean along the western coast of Africa seem to indicate that it was not very common for mariners to travel beyond southern Morocco. If, indeed, they regularly visited Awlil by the Senegal River, one would assume more sources could attest to this. Perhaps archaeological excavations in the region will shed light on this, as well as more research into the Banu Gudala. For instance, one of the tales of lost sailors mentions Banu Gudala, who did not seem too shocked by the presence of sailors on their coast. Moreover, a mention of "Tochoron" in a 14th century Iberian book on the known kingdoms of the world mentions travel to the West African coast from North Africa, to reach the "River of Gold" (the Senegal and Niger rivers, which were believed to be connected to the Nile). While the text describes a fictional journey around the known world, its author was clearly well-informed, and perhaps was not entirely fabricating details about West Africa, the Senegal River and trading ships. "Tochoron" or 'Takrur does appear in the text, but the narrative describes an overland route to get there across the Sahara. Nevertheless, Takrur should still have been a leading power along the Senegal River Valley, and probably closely linked to any trading activities at the mouth of the Senegal River or nearby coastal regions, which might explain why "Tochoror" appeared on European maps as early as 1339.