Das Reich Bornu

Whilst revisiting various sources on Bagirmi and Wadai, we were reminded of a German article by Ulrich Seetzen. Based on interviews with natives of Waday in 1808 who passed through Cairo, Seetzen's informants provide a glimpse of parts of Sudanic Africa not well known in Europe. One of his informants, Hassan, helped Seetzen "map" out the larger region as he conceived it. Intriguingly, this Waday native seems to place Sennar, Fez (Morocco), and various other places within a larger Borno "empire." Clearly, as late as 1808, the stature and reputation of the Sayfawa across much of the African continent was still recognized, even from tributary or vassal states which were striking against Borno.

The Tabaqat and Sudanic Africa

MacMichael's abridged translation of the Tabaqat in A History of the Arabs in the Sudan and Some Account of the People who Preceded Them and of the Tribes Inhabiting Dárfūr, Volume 2 is outdated and probably riddled with errors. That said, it is, to our knowledge, the most complete English translation of a major source on the history of the Islamic holymen of the Funj Sultanate. Written in the early 1800s by Muhammad wad Dayf Allah, it contains rich biographies loaded with anecdotes, stories, miracles, and portraits of the lives of major figures in Sudanese Islam since the 16th century. Moreover, some of the biographies illustrate the Islamic ties to Kordofan, Darfur, Borno, Wadai, Hausaland, the Maghreb, Egypt, the Arabian Peninsula, and more. Let us take a closer look at some of these ties to Sudanic Africa

First of all, it is interesting to note that one of the major founding figures associated with Sufism in Sudan was Tag El Din Bahari, a native of Baghdad (in the translation of MacMichael, his full name is given as Muhammad El Bahari Tag El Din El Baghdadi). He arrived in the Sudan after completing the pilgrimage and is frequently mentioned in the text for his students and acolytes. There is no evidence of contacts for this Sufi teacher and al-Baghdadi of Air, yet one cannot help but notice the presence of two Iraqi Sufis of major import in both the Air region and in the Funj Sultanate in the 16th century. Given the evidence of later contacts by the 1600s between the Eastern Sudan and Central Sudan, one should delve deeper into the history of Sufism and Eastern influences on its practices in Air, Hausaland, and Borno, possibly tracing signs of influence or exchange with the domain of the Funj rulers. 

Additional signs of contact with the Central Sudan can be seen in the case of Muhammad ibn Adlan el Shaf'ai El Hoshabi, said to have done missionary work in Borno and Hausaland (256). Alas, there is no precise date given to make sense of the chronology of his time in the Central Sudan. Yet we know from Krump's account of his travels in the Sudan, that caravans including Borno and Fezzan Sufis and travelers were going to the Funj Sultanate. Thus, by the early 18th century, it was at least not unheard of for Sufis to travel between the Fezzan and Borno and the Sinnar Sultanate in caravans. Indeed, one of the holymen included in the Tabaqat was allegedly from the Fezzan, Abdulla el Sherif (227). In fact, some of the holymen of Funj kingdom even studied under West Africans in eastern lands. For instance, Khogali ibn Abd el Rahman ibn Ibrahim studied in Medina under Sheikh Ahmad el Tabankatawi el Fellati (250). The latter, whose precise origins are unclear in MacMichael's translation, was probably from the Western or Central Sudan but established in Medina, where he was an influential scholar of Islamic studies. Amusingly, MacMichael translates the anecdote of Khogali ibn Abd el Rahman ibn Ibrahim stopping Bukr of Darfur from attacking Sennar by striking him with his rod (251).

Additional holymen from the Funj sultanate who traveled to western lands included Abu Surur El Fadli, who taught in Darfur and was murdered in Wadai by his concubines (229). Likewise, Abu Zayd ibn el Sheikh Abd el Kadir traveled to Darfur and Borku during the reign of Sultan Ya'akub, said to have ruled in Wadai from 1681-1701 and to have lost a war with Ahmad Bukr of Darfur (281). Last, but certainly not least, Hasan ibn Hasuna ibn El Haj Musa, who died in 1664, was a wealthy holyman who owned many slaves and livestock. He was said to have traded many horses to Tekali, Borku and Darfur (244). This last individual's trading ventures establishes the tie between commerce and religion as well as the significance of the horse trade with areas far to the west of the Nile. Undoubtedly, the expansion of Muslim-ruled states in Darfur and Wadai favored this economic, cultural, and religious exchange with both the Funj Sultanate and Borno. Alas, the absence of a Tabaqat for Borno, Kanem, Wadai and Darfur makes it harder to explore these connections and movements that entailed commerce, Sufism, and Islamic scholarship. 

Masks, the Mosque and Mali

François-Xavier Fauvelle's highly readable Les masques et la mosquee: L'empire du Mali (XIII-XIVe siecle) is based on a series of lectures given by the author, benefitting from its written form to incorporate new insights and depth. Due to the limitation of the available sources, Fauvelle endeavors to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a manner that is likely or at least to propose hypotheses that match or can correspond with what is known, often without adopting literalist interpretations of external Arabic sources or the large corpus of oral traditions. Thus, a possible area is proposed for the site of Mali's capital during the 1300s, when Mali was at its apogee. In addition, a reinterpretation of Ibn Khaldun's chronology of Mali kings in the 1200s and 1300s is offered that attempts to make sense of the two distinct "houses" of the imperial dynasty, one claiming descent from Sunjata and the other from his brother, Abu Bakr. The legendary Mansa Musa, a descendant of the house of Abu Bakr, may not be remembered by traditionists because of his lack of direct descent from Sunjata. While some of the ideas of Fauvelle are still just hypotheses, we found his analysis of Mansa Musa's pilgrimage and the story of his rise to the throne interesting. Mansa Musa as Moses and his predecessor, who allegedly perished in the Atlantic, as a Pharaoh, is a "fresh take" on the anecdote and how Mansa Musa possibly positioned himself in relation to Quranic or Islamic notions of Moses and proper leadership. The intriguing take on Malian court ritual under Mansa Sulayman is also fascinating, indicating how the rulers of the Mali Empire were mansas and sultans who interfaced between two distinct conceptions of power and legitimacy.

The Sultanate of Mali

Hadrien Collet's Le sultanat du Mali - Histoire régressive d'un empire médiéval XXIe-XIVe siècle is a challenging read. Very academic and interested in avoiding literalist readings of oral traditions or Arabic sources, the focus of this regressive history is an emphasis on the historiography of Mali. This historiography reveals discursive practices of various generations of historians who wrote about the past of Mali, from Mamluk-era scholars like al-Umari to the post-medieval historians and chroniclers of the Timbuktu tarikh tradition or colonial and post colonial academics and scholars. By highlighting the historiographical turn, Collet's study endeavors to understand the ideological, literary, and other contexts of the key texts utilized as sources to construct a narrative of the "imperial" era in the Western Sudan. Likewise, a rereading of Arabic sources and a desire to place them in their context reveals how al-Umari, Ibn Battuta, and others from the Muslim world conceived of Mali in terms of Islamic geography, science, literature, and geopolitics. By attempting to understand the larger context for our external sources on Mali, instead of relying on extracts that divorce these sources from their larger context, one can gain new insights into the origin and meaning of the relevant writings. Collet's text particularly does this with regard to al-Umari's encyclopedic chapter on Mali and the Rihla of Ibn Battta. Surprisingly, Ibn Khaldun, who provides some of the richest information on Mali in the external sources, does not receive a chapter.

The choice of beginning with the colonial-era scholarship of the likes of a Delafosse and orientalists like Cooley to the nationalist scholarship of Mamby Sidibe or the post colonial age of scholarship from the likes of D.T. Niane and Cheikh Anta Diop, makes it easier to see for the reader how the narrative of the "Mali Empire" developed and became an established historical "fact" in academic, Afrocentric and online discourse. However, a deeper analysis of the ways in which this narrative was established by scholars and academics in the 19th and 20th centuries reveals a number of problems and concerns. Since we have not examined some of the scholarship analyzed here, particularly the works of Monteil or the Malian and Guinean publications of the post colonial era, we nonetheless find a problem with the colonialist, nationalist, Afrocentric, and interpretative lens used by these scholars. The colonial-era ones, for instance, like Delafosse, did not always cite their oral sources clearly and later scholars adopted a sometimes uncritical use of oral traditions, treating the griots as "neutral" reservoirs of "raw facts" or data that can be used to supplement the meager external Arabic sources for the medieval sultanate of Mali. In reality, however, these oral traditions as preserved by griots are not frozen in time but adaptable to new conditions and meanings to retain their relevance. In other words, scholars may have rushed to historicize figures like Sundiata while also promoting the narrative of a precociously modern "constitution" for the state established by this figure. 

In short, scholars must use oral traditions as carefully as written sources, and in so doing will similarly recognize the agency and creativity of griots as historians. This type of analysis will potentially elucidate or bring us closer to answering the questions of past generations of specialists and scholars. For instance, using oral traditions and archaeological data critically to rethink the location of the capital of the Mali sultanate. Instead of looking to Niani, the discredited imperial capital promoted by colonial scholars and Niane, the capital of the sultanate may have been further north and not in the Manden heartland as we know it today. Likewise, the collection of oral traditions in different parts of Manden and trying to analyze how they reflect post-"imperial" Mali conditions after the loss of their northern territories (Djenne, Walata, Timbuktu, etc.) highlights the "living" nature or conditions of oral traditions.

The next section analyzes post-medieval West African historians in an intriguing manner. Building on the model of historian Paulo Fernando de Moreas Farias and Mauro Nobili, the famous tarikhs of Timbuktu are seen in a new light. In addition, 19th century Islamic scholars such as Muhammad Bello of Sokoto and the chronicles and writings of Muslim scholars from Walata and the Hamdullahi caliphate. By treating the authors of texts as historian colleagues, one can begin to see how their construction of Mali and the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa functioned to express an Islamic West African conception of the region's past. Takrur, for example, is redefined by these authors in ways that clearly deviate from the historical kingdom of Takrur or the use of the term by Mamluk scholars in the East. Mansa Musa and his wondrous pilgrimage, the sponsorship of mosques, and the honor he accorded to the ulama represent a model of leadership. Like the future Askia Muhammad's function in the chronicles, Mansa Musa therefore served as an exemplary Islamic ruler who also helped establish Takrur as a Muslim geographic space. Although our 17th century chroniclers al-Sa'adi and Ibn Muhtar appear to have largely relied on oral traditions for Mali and a few external Arabic sources, their anecdotes, stories, and traditions on the Middle Niger's past under Malian suzerainty indicate the enduring memory and legacy of the kingdom. Even when in conflict with Songhay, the Islamic sultanate Collet suggests may be conceived as "modern" or "early modern" rather than medieval, Mali and the memory of Mansa Musa suggest it retained its power and legacy as an Islamic state. 

The final chapters analyzing the major external Arabic sources (al-Umari, Ibn Battuta) and the Mamluk-era writings on the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa, present, perhaps, the denouement of the historiographical and hermeneutical turn embodied in this work. These sources, written in the time of the Mali sultanate's zenith or soon after, reflect the power and reputation attained by the West African state after Mansa Musa's pilgrimage impressed Mamluk Cairo in 1325. Collet's reading of al-Umari and Ibn Battuta exemplifies this well, as both authors receive detailed treatment in terms of their backgrounds, their writings beyond the well-known extracts on Mali, and the literary and intellectual concerns and styles of their respective genres. Seeing Ibn Battuta and Ibn Guzzay's co-produced narrative as literary does not mean the voyage to the Sudan never happened (although it is possible Ibn Battuta never went beyond Walata). Indeed, following literary conventions and seeing the topology of the genre of travel writings that situated the Sudan (Black Africa) and the Far East as distinct zones bordering the unknown lands. The notion of "marvels" used here, particularly in the chapter on Ibn Battuta, was fascinating and points to, in our opinion, the overall veracity of Ibn Battuta's account of Mali. While undoubtedly drawing on a larger corpus of literature on the "Land of the Blacks" in Arabic literature, the local customs and "exoticisms" described in the text are sometimes unique and, if not directly witnessed by Ibn Battuta himself, were based on first-hand accounts. Like al-Umari, who also occasionally drew from the larger context of Arabic literary conventions and geography on sub-Saharan Africa, Ibn Battuta's story of cannibals to the south of Mali and other "marvels" demonstrates the literary nature of the source. That insight, however, does not mean the journey to Mali never occurred. It actually offers a new perspective that can raise new questions and conclusions about the nature of Mali during the 14th century. 

Sadly, Ibn Khaldun's detailed analysis of Mali does not have a separate chapter in Collet's detailed book. It is a shame, since Ibn Khaldun's use of a "Takruri" informant from Ghana indicates the presence of an account drawing on a different regime of truth. Indeed, the Takruri faqih in Cairo may represent a late 14th century West African perspective on Mali, drawing on "fresh" traditions and possibly written sources for his reconstruction of the chronology of mansas. Uthman, this Ghana faqih interpreted via Ibn Khaldun, represents, besides Mansa Musa himself in the reports on the pilgrimage, the closest thing to a contemporary "internal" voice on the sultanate. It would have been interesting to read Collet's breakdown of Ibn Khaldun and his larger sociopolitical theory of history in this context, as well as an early local/West African history of Mali. Otherwise, al-Umari largely relied on al-Dukkali, who is said to have lived in Mali's capital for several years, or the filtered accounts of what Mansa Musa was reported to have said to Mamluk officials during his Egyptian sojourn. Even if Ibn Khaldun's account is not particularly reliable, the use of Takruri informants who were contemporaries of 14th century Mali merits further investigation. 

Contribution to the History of the Mali Empire

Madina Ly Tall's Contribution à l'histoire de l'Empire du Mali, (XIIIe-XVIe siècles) : limites, principales provinces, institutions politiques is by now a dated yet provocative interpretation of the Mali Empire. Pushing back against earlier authors like Delafosse who believed Mali disintegrated into irrelevance by the early decades of the 15th century, Ly Tall uses Portuguese sources and oral traditions to demonstrate the power and economic importance of Mali in 15th and 16th century gold trade, especially through its control of the Gambia for access to coastal trade. The Malian historian also utilized the usual Arabic sources (medieval external Arabic ones like that of al-Umari or Ibn Khaldun and the later chronicles like the Tarikh al-Fattash) and oral traditions recorded in earlier sources or from her own fieldwork. Thus, through an impressive use of nearly all types of sources (including the limited archaeological work in Mali and the site of Niani), the author presents a plausible Mali Empire through its provincial organization and administrative structure.

More than half of the text consists of short chapters on the various provinces of Mali that can be identified with a combination of textual and oral sources. These major provinces are then elucidated in terms of their possible importance in the Mali Empire and how they were lost to the center. Here is where the author is willing to push back against previous scholarship with regards to the eastern extent of Mali. During its apogee in the 14th century, Ly Tall believes the emperor did indeed include Tadmekka and Takedda, despite other historians disputing the problematic Arabic sources on the matter. Of course, due to the paucity of sources, it is possible that these eastern possessions were lost after a short period of time. Ly Tall also makes a problematic case for Kukia possibly remaining under Mali control well into the 15th century. This is based, in part, on the problematic references to a "Quioquia" in Portuguese sources. This, however, seems unlikely to have been the Kukiya associated with the Songhay and Gao. We find it unlikely that the Sonni or Si dynasty would have not controlled Kukiya by the 1430s if not far earlier. After all, Ly Tall herself implies that Mali lost control of much of its northern and eastern domains around the time it lost control of Timbuktu in the 1430s. Consequently, it seems unlikely to have held Kukiya, too. Of course, Ly Tall tdoes raise interesting pints due to the possible depopulation of Gao in c.1375 and its decline in the late 1300s and early 1400s but we believe it unlikely that Malian influence would have still been strong in that area. 

Outside of a few quibbles with questionable claims or debatable conclusions about Mali's imperial reach to the east and over Gao-Kukiya, the author endeavors to use oral traditions in conjunction with Ibn Khaldun, al-Umari, and Ibn Battuta to sketch the outline of imperial Mali's administration. According to her research, the empire appears to have not depended on enslaved officials, although she identifies a griot who was willing to explain the rise of one former slave official who usurped power (perhaps the Sakoura of Ibn Khaldun's account). The issue of succession, which we saw led to frequent conflicts, appears to have followed two patterns. After Sundiata, it was mainly collateral, moving from eldest brother to younger siblings. After Mansa Musa, however, the succession seems to have emphasized father-son inheritance. Perhaps this was due to the greater Islamization of the Mandingue aristocracy or the specific desires of rulers to ensure their sons would reign. Sadly, the lack of sources for later Mali history in the 15th and 16th century does not allow us to clearly identify which pattern of succession predominated. Perhaps, after losing its northern territories, the Mandingue returned to an emphasis on collateral succession, a principle deeply grounded in Mandingue polities and clan structure. In addition, the administrative structure was one that, of course, featured a prominent role for griots, repositories of tradition and history who were closely linked to the mansas. The Mali Empire's administrative structure also included a role for local dynasties in annexed or conquered territories, though sometimes replacing them with representatives of the central government. 

Overall, Ly Tall's study is a careful one that attempts to integrate all the known sources. While she appears to have lacked the ability to read Portuguese, the French and English translations provide enough data to demonstrate that Mali's influence continued in Gambia. Her argument that control of this stretch of the coast played a major role in the survival of a Mali empire until the end of the 16th century is an interesting one that could be strengthened with further data or figures on the scale of the gold trade with the Portuguese. Nonetheless, the fertility of the land along the Gambia River and the trade with Europeans on the coast likely did contribute to Mali's survival after the loss of its northern territories. That said, Malian control of some of the gold sources which provided gold to Djenne and Timbuktu must have been an important source of revenue for the mansas. Even if Songhay and, then the Pashalik in Timbuktu controlled the north, Mali remained relevant in the gold trade to the north. Indeed, as late as 1599, the mansa of Mali attempted to seize Djenne, proof that the state was still a power in the region and willing to try to retake former provinces. 

Africanobyzantina

Africanobyzantina is one of those deeply flawed but potentially fruitful analyses of the pre-Islamic past of Sudanic Africa. Positing a significant influence of Byzantium and medieval Nubian civilization on Sudanic Africa in the period of the 500s-700s, Theodōros Papadopoullos essentially restates the Hamitic Hypothesis for elucidating the rise of complex states and kingdoms in the Central and Western Sudan. However, he largely ignores pre-6th century history, overlooking any Egyptian and Kushite influences that permeated "Negro-Sudanese" Africa in Antiquity. So, using the Byzantine-sponsored Christianization of Nubia in the 6th century and the medieval Nubian kingdoms adoption of at least part of the Roman/Byzantine state apparatus and civilization, Papadopoullos endeavors to use a migration of said Nubians to the west to explain the development of civilizations like Kanem, Songhay, the Hausa states, and even the origins of the Jukun, Borgu, and Nupe. 

Like other theories based on the Hamitic Hypothesis, the vector of this civilizing current is presented as likely Zaghawa (although the Tuareg and their possible part eastern origins in northeast Africa is also considered), although the author fails to clarify how nomadic or seminomadic populations in the Sahara or Darfur and Chad were able to create kingdoms that brought Byzantine and oriental (Middle Eastern) statecraft to Black Africans. Presumably, actual Nubians and perhaps Copts and Persians, traveled to West Africa in large enough numbers to transfer aspects of their more "advanced" cultures but, naturally, our oral traditions and legends cited by the author fail to demonstrate this persuasively. Instead, what Papadopoullos achieves is a confused speculative theory based on outdated translations of Arabic sources (which he sometimes fails to address the contradictions of), problematic interpretations of said sources, and a large corpus of oral traditions collected by Frobenius, Meek, H.R. Palmer, and other Western colonial administrator-scholars and ethnographers. While there is undoubtedly great value in some of these traditions and, in the case of Palmer, local manuscripts written by locals in northern Nigeria, the methodological issues, language barriers, colonial context, and disturbing racialized framework adopted by these European scholars are never addressed or interrogated by Papadopoullos.

In spite of our criticisms of the book, there is nonetheless some merit to it. For instance, linguistic evidence studied by Claude Rilly does point to medieval Nubian contacts with peoples in western Sudan and eastern Chad. Some medieval Arabic sources do indeed reference contact between Nubia and the lands to their west. The Tuareg language does indeed include words of Latin or Greek origin that suggest a Christian past. And even some of the Kisra traditions analyzed by Papadopoullos seem to refer to historical events and personages relevant to the Persian conquest of Egypt and Sassanian conflict with the Byzantine Empire. And snippets of a pre-Islamic past that may have once been influenced by Christian Nubia can be occasionally seen here or there, if the references to Nasara or Christian-sounding practices are reliable in the traditions and accounts collected by Meeks, Frobenius and Palmer. Recent scholarship has also pointed out possible links between Nubia and the Lake Chad region through analysis of beads found at a site believed to have been a royal capital of Kanem, possibly Njimi. If the bead assemblage analyzed there was closer to those found in East Africa, and highly unlike the chemical composition of beads found at medieval sites in West Africa, the authors are probably correct to suspect trade links to the east that likely traversed Darfur and Nubia. 

Similarly, the aforementioned linguistic evidence of medieval Nubian influence on languages spoken between the Nile and Lake Chad points to potential Nubian trade, settlement, or migration into some of these areas. Some potential evidence of this can be seen in archaeological sites showing medieval Nubian extension west into Kordofan. Indeed, perhaps Muhammad Bello's tale of the Tuareg migration into Air from Kanem and Borno may have a kernel of truth, too, showing evidence of a Tubu, Kanuri, Tuareg, and Hausa interaction sphere by the 7th or 8th century that may have had ties to Nubia through trade. Archaeological evidence of pre-Islamic trans-Saharan at Marandet, Kissi and other sites that may have traded through the Fazzan or further east with the Nile Valley is also possible. Indeed, the Zaghawa word for king, kire, based on one Beria dictionary, sounds like it may be related to the Meroitic qore. In short, there are number of possible areas of influence from the Nubian civilizations, both Kushite and medieval, in the lands to the west. To what extent they actually influenced the Central and Western Sudan is unknown, but contacts were probable and likely predate medieval Nubia. 

Nonetheless, a deeper study of these aforementioned traditions and sources is required, especially with scholars who are well-versed local languages and have an understanding of how Islamic-influenced histories and legends draw on Jewish and Christian traditions. Due to his reliance on these highly problematic colonial-era scholars and colonial administrators, and the author's reliance on sometimes flawed translations of Arabic materials, he ends up promoting the Hamitic Hypothesis in a slightly different manner yet still flawed and lacking merit. It is also likely that some of the traditions recorded by locals, upon the insistence of Palmer or with his sponsorship, were influenced by more erudite traditions of Islamic history that included more specific knowledge of Sassanian Persian wars with the Byzantine Empire. Indeed, in East Africa, a Swahili poet even wrote about the Heraclius. To what degree the traditions collected by individuals like these actually reflect the Mandara, Borno, Nupe, or Hausa traditions of origin must be addressed, particularly in the ways traditions mutate or incorporate new figures over time. One must also look for actual evidence of migration of Persians, Copts, or Nubians in the period from the 6th century to the 8th century, too, since the author seems to think these Byzantine and eastern influences arrived via actual migratory movements that were associated with the Zaghawa (and, possibly, Tuareg, whose ancestors may have come from the east as well as Berber North Africa).

Adar in History

Djibo Hamani's L'Adar précolonial (République du Niger): contribution à l'étude de l'histoire des états Hausa is  an interesting account of a region of the Hausa world sometimes forgotten or ignored. It's about what was really a peripheral area of the Hausa world, and one for which written sources only truly appear in the 1600s (although references to its powerful neighbors could be found a few centuries earlier). According to him, it was peopled by Azna (a Hausa population) that was once based in Air to the north, but migrated in small groups under different chiefly lineages by c. 1000 to 900 years ago, in various waves. they were probably migrating south due to pressure from Tuareg pastoralists and the declining environment of Air for agriculturalists. However, unlike the Gobir or Gobirawa Hausa, the Azna who migrated south into Adar never consolidated into a single state that ruled the area. It was then conquered by Kabi (sometimes spelled Kebbi, a Hausa state that was once part of the Songhay Empire under Askia Muhammad but then went its own way in the 1500s and became, for a time, a powerful Hausa kingdom dominating Adar and other Hausa areas. Then, after 1674, when prince Agabba of Agades defeated the ruler of Kebbi, the Agades Sultanate decided to annex Adar. Agabba, later deposed by his brother from the throne of Agades, moved south and established himself as the Sultan of Adar. Thus, Adar was unified under the Istambulawa sultanate of Air, which was, despite sometimes threatening other Hausa states or even Borno, was politically unstable (the Air sultan was seen by the Tuareg as a mediator and sometimes had little direct rule over the Kel Air Tuareg clans and tribes, which sometimes fought amongst themselves or defied directives from the Agades Sultan). So, long story short, the Adar Sultanate, a tributary of Agades, ruled a unified Adar but then later lost control of most of it in the 19th century.

The jihad of Uthman dan Fodio began in nearby Gobir, which caused changes in Adar since it too became, at least in theory, subject to the caliphs of Sokoto. The Adar ruling dynasty was initially split, like the Tuareg in Air, about supporting Uthman dan Fodio but once the sultan in Agades threw his support behind the jihad, Adar's ruling dynasty also accepted Sokoto. The caliph Muhammad Bello, son of Uthman dan Fodio, even gave the rights to the tribute of part of Adar to Tuareg allies. The 19th century then later saw the partition of Adar as the Kel Geres Tuareg took the Eastern part (they were more assimilated to the local area) while another Tuareg confederation seized the north of Adar. The Sarkin Adar, or local dynasty, was reduced to a small section of the province and lacked access to enough troops or revenue to seriously threaten or defeat the Tuareg who now dominated most of Adar. However, the 1800s saw the greater integration of Adar into the world of Hausa trade and international commerce and Islam spread more deeply. Adar's case is somewhat interesting as a peripheral Hausa region which never developed its own unified ruling dynasty until the Istambulawa of Air conquered it, but they themselves were reduced to little power in only a little more than a century. However, the 19th century witnessed more conversions to Islam, the growth of the mallam population, and, likely, an increase in the enslaved population as Adarawa and Tuareg traders traveled to Sokoto, Kano, and other markets.

Yet Adar's case makes one think that perhaps its Azna (local Hausa population of diverse origins) and their village-based level of political organization may have been what most of Hausaland was like before the development of the major states like Kano, Katsina, Gobir, etc. The close association between religious authority in the "animist" belief system and political authority in Adar may provide hints as to the origin of the earliest sarakauna in Hausaland. Furthermore, the case of Adar illustrates how loose the authority of Hausa or Central Sudanic states over other regions could be. Indeed, the Sultan of Agades, who could demand tribute from Adar, was clearly unable to assert his control over the region in any meaningful way in the 19th century to restore order. And despite Adar's importance for caravan routes to more important markets in Katsina and Kano, or even for the provision of horses to Kebbi (or Kabi) from Air, Adar remained rather peripheral in the grand scheme of Hausa states. Nonetheless, the region's larger significance in Hausa history can be found in a few episodes detailed by Djibo Hamani. For example, Jibril b. Umar, the mallam and scholar who had traveled to Egypt and Mecca and taught Uthman dan Fodio, was a native of Adar. Although his later jihadist movement differed from Jibril b. Umar on the question of Muslims who do not practice Islam lacking faith, Uthman dan Fodio clearly saw his teacher as the spiritual forerunner of his own attempts to restore and reform Islam in Hausaland. Later on, Adar also witnessed the rise of another reformer who imposed his own jihad in Adar, against the "animist" Azna and Tuareg who did not follow Islamic precepts. This figure, Muhammadu Jelani, was such a radical that he even preached social equality and racial equality in an Adar where the Tuareg nobility saw themselves as superior to the maraboutique clans as well as the Adar commoners. 

Perhaps more recent scholarship can shed more light on the particularities of this region. Although based on both textual sources and oral traditions, Hamani's book was published in the 1970s. Today, with more advances in recent scholarship and perhaps new interpretations of the written sources, the history of Adar, and by extension, Kebbi, Air, and Gobir may challenge some of Hamani's conclusions. For instance, what exactly transpired between 1674, when Agabba of Agades defeated the ruler of Kebbi, and 1721 or so, when Agabba finally establishes himself permanently in Adar as the sultan. And perhaps the nature of Adar's role in trade between Air and Kebbi or Air and other Hausa states was more important than we realize, especially if the salines the Kel Air possessed access to before they gained control of Bilma's salt were already highly prized or valued. One also wonders about the relationship between the "pagan" cults of the Azna villages and the relationship with Islam after the Istambulawa conquest. If, for instance, the Kel Geres were already established in the eastern part of Adar and more sedentary, and even their nobles were more racially mixed than other Tuareg nobles, perhaps there was also a deeper penetration of Islam in the eastern part of Adar? 

al-Tunisi's Darfur

Muhammad al-Tunisi's account of his voyage to Darfur, translated from the Arabic into English as In Darfur, is one of the major sources for reconstructing the history of the Darfur Sultanate. Based on his experiences there and covering the late 18th century and early 19th century period of the Keira rulers, al-Tunisi describes his travels there, gender relations, the political offices, diet, domestic architecture, magic and local superstitions, local politics, and social and ethnic divisions. The multiethnic Darfur sultanate included a mix of various ethnic groups, including Zaghawa, Fur, Arab, Fulani, and others. 

Due to al-Tunisi's own background as someone coming from an educated family and claiming descent from the Prophet, he and his father found favor and support in Darfur, even receiving a fief with rights to the taxation of villages. Because of his privileged position in Darfur and shared religion with the elites of Darfur, al-Tunisi's description of Darfur (and Wadai) occasionally provides more insights into the nature of the kingdom than that of later European travelers who were outsiders. Of course, al-Tunisi was still a biased outsider in another sense, bringing an Arab, North African perspective on Fur sexual mores, gender relations, and improper practices such as the possible human sacrifice.

Despite his own biases and sexism, al-Tunisi is an important source for documenting how extensive Darfur's links to the outside world were. The Sudanic belt, from Timbuktu and Mali in the west to Sinnar and Abyssinia in the East, and from the Maghreb and Egypt to Dar Runga and Dar Fartit in the south, the world of Darfur in this era was closely tied to regional, African, and global networks. The rulers of Darfur, for instance, used a royal seal made in Egypt. The sultan used the title of khaqan like the Ottoman sultan, too. An Egyptian fellah and musketeer named Zabadi served in the Darfur army. Darfur's ruler Tayrab invaded Kordofan. 

In addition, after the French invasion of Egypt, Zawanah Kashif fled to Darfur, was well-received and then plotted to murder the sultan. Darfur was, through its trade links to Sinnar, Egypt, North Africa and the rest of Sudanic Africa, was clearly a participant in global trade. Political ramifications of the French invasion of Egypt also reached Darfur, just as epidemic diseases from the Islamic Holyland struck Wadai. While some may think of the Darfur sultanate as an insignificant, minor African kingdom, al-Tunisi's account indicates the opposite. Indeed, during this era, Darfur was particularly important on a regional level, even as succession crises fueled civil wars. 

Wangara Chronicle

Although unfortunately too brief, a 17th century chronicle on the origins of Wangara Islamic scholars in 15th century Kano is a priceless document. Translated into English by Muhammad Al-Hajj, "A Seventeenth Century Chronicle On the Origins and Missionary Activities of the Wangarawa" corroborates some of the information in the famous Kano Chronicle. Based on the quality of paper and writing style of the manuscript, Al-Hajj believes the document was probably written down in the 1700s or perhaps earlier, in 1650/51 according to the colophon. That said, it contains information on Shaikh Zagaite and Wangara traders influencing Muhammad Rumfa from a period of perhaps 150 years earlier than that of its author. Thus, the chronicle likely relies on a mix of oral traditions and some documents to trace the genealogy of descendants of Zagaite. Its earlier section on the migration of Zagaite from Wangara (near Maqzara, or what was sometimes called Takrur) through Mali, Gobir, Azben, Katsina and Kano seems to draw from oral traditions that sought to explain the presence of Wangara in various parts of West Africa. This illustrates the wider diasporic network of Wangara traders and Muslim teachers who undoubtedly played a critical role in the Islamization of Kano, Katsina and other parts of West Africa. This network must have brought Islamic influences into parts of the Hausaland just as Islamic influences from the east, via Borno, and Islamic influences from the north likely converged to a greater extent in the 14th and 15th centuries.

Besides providing a short explanation of Shaikh Zagaite's gradual migration to Kano, the chronicle also connects him to al-Maghili (Sidi Fari), a famous North African scholar who had influenced Askia Muhammad of Songhay and Muhammad Rumfa of Kano. According to this chronicle, both Zagaithe and al-Maghili were respected scholars who contributed to the spread of Islam. Indeed, a miraculous account reported here claims that Shaikh Zagaite's intercession was necessary for the Muslims to successfully cut down a sacred tree of the pagans. After Zagaite's intercession through prayer, a mosque was built on the grounds of the tree, another symbol of Islam's victory over pre-Islamic traditions in Kano. In addition, Zagaite was said to have surpassed an Egyptian visitor in terms of scholarship, suggesting that the critical study of al-Khalil in Kano began with Zagaite. According to Al-Hajj, however, the chronicler was actually incorrect so the anecdote was likely inserted or distorted to suggest a greater intellectual stature for Zagaite than an Egyptian. Regardless of this possibly distorted or fabricated anecdote, the chronicle places Zagaite on a similar level as al-Maghili in terms of influence and respect from Muhammad Rumfa. This suggests that Wangara Muslim scholars were perceived as similarly knowledgeable and reputable as North Africans in late 15th century Kano. 

Indeed, according to this chronicle, Zagaite and his sons were rewarded by Muhammad Rumfa with fiefs or lands. Zagaite actually wanted his progeny to carry on the tradition of learning and close relations with the rulers of Kano, too. Thus, the genealogical information recorded in the chronicle may have been motivated by a desire to combat discord and divisions among the descendants of Zagaite. Perhaps, over a 150 years or more, the extended family had been divided and conflict over royal patronage had become significant enough to warrant a short family history. Indeed, discord within kinship groups and disrespect for one's parents were repeatedly mentioned as sinful behavior. Thus, the primary purpose of this short text may have been to remind descendants of Zagaite of their common origin and restore some degree of harmony to a family divided by time and politics. Recalling an ancestor believed to possess baraka and to have performed miracles through the aid of God must have been a powerful way to assert this, even if readers in the 21st century obviously do not believe demons or devils sprung forth from the sacred tamarind tree or that Zagaite was able to lower the depth of the sea (Niger River?) when leaving Mali to perform the pilgrimage. Unfortunately, allusions to Borno were absent but allusions in the Diwan and Kano Chronicle indicate influences from Kanem-Borno in Kano by the late 14th century. 

Kanem's Pre-Islamic Foundations

Although the extant source materials are far from ideal, it is possible to reconstruct the pre-Islamic foundations of early Kanem. As a major Central Sudanic state that was already in existence by the 9th century, when its religion was described as worship of kings, attempting to recover the "pagan" foundations of the state can shed light on its early origins. Indeed, as a state with strong links with clan names that appear among Teda, Daza, Kanembu and Kanuri peoples, the origins of Kanem seem to be significantly correlated with the non-Islamic, ancient roots of these related peoples. The Zaghawa and Bideyat, also part of this larger world of Central Saharan and Sahelian "black" nomads and semi-nomads, provide even further evidence of early Kanem's foundations, particularly in the relevance of the king in ceremonis tied to rain and agriculture.

Unfortunately, the medieval Arabic sources are light on details of pre-Islamic Kanem. Written off as pagans by al-Bakri and described as worshippers of their monarchs by al-Muhallabi, early Kanem's "paganism" did not interest Muslim visitors. However, when reading later ethnographies of the Zaghawa and their pre-Islamic rituals, one may begin to see what exactly al-Muhallabi and others were describing. To be specific, it is unlikely that the people of Kanem actually worshipped the mai or king (kireh, or kakireh). Instead, royal authority was tied to rituals reflecting a larger cosmovision or worldview. The ancestors and spirits needed to receive offerings (or, sadaga, Chappelle 87). Kingship among the Zaghawa studied by Tubiana or Kanem as described by al-Muhallabi was a position closely linked to indigenous religious practices. In early Kanem, the mai and the royal lineage were necessary in rituals that led to rain and bountifulness. Without their position as sacral rulers who could lead the necessary rituals and offerings, the people may face droughts, poor harvests, famine, and other turmoil. It is in this way that the subjects of the early mais of Kanem venerated their king, who was believed to be the source of life, death, illness or good health (Hopkins and Levtzion 171). 

Therefore, it is unlikely that the kings of Kanem itself were actually the object of worship. The sacral nature of their position and their appearance in rituals designed to communicate with spirits perhaps led to the view of the king as semidivine or associated with mystical and spiritual authority. By virtue of their special position and the political and ceremonial demands, the king must be separate from the commoners or rest of society. This led to more developed forms of ritual seclusion of the king and veneration of the royal lineage. Indeed, in Borno sacrifices were offered to ancestors and alms given while the king was ritually secluded (Bjorkelo 33). One can even detect echoes of this among the Islamic Sayfawa dynasty for centuries after al-Yaqubi and al-Muhallabi wrote of Kanem. Indeed, the interest of the Sayfawa mais in performing the pilgrimage and Islamic scholarship likely resonated with pre-Islamic beliefs of the mai's position being rooted in sacral patterns. For this reason, the kings of Kanem were often ritually secluded, endeavored to avoid be seen eating, and made appearances as specific festivals or public celebrations. Indeed, Borno natives enslaved in Saint Domingue reported to Descourtilz that the mai of Borno never left the palace and those who dared to look directly at him were executed (Descourtilz 146). Remarkably, al-Umari in the 14th century also reported on rare public appearances of the mais of Kanem, who only appeared during 2 festivals (Hopkins and Levtzion 260). Consequently, Islam may have not represented so much of a rupture to this process as it could have been incorporated into "traditional" patterns of kingship established in ancient Kanem.

In addition to the ritual seclusion of kings in Kanem (and Borno under the Sayfawa), the specific reverence attached to ancestors and remembering clan affiliations through maternal lines may have been an additional remnant of pre-Islamic Kanem. According to Abraham Rosman's analysis of Kanuri social structure, clans were once very significant in the history of the Kanuri people. Kanuri were divided into jili with distinctive facial scars. Each jili had a common ancestor and a head appointed by the mai to collect taxes (Rosman 93). This system of clans and clan sub-groups, organized patrilineally but also emphasizing the maternal clan, may have been important to the ancestors of the Kanuri if they did not marry within the same clan If early clans among the ancestors of the Kanuri were similar to those observed among the Tubu and Zaghawa, then clan founders would have been of great importance for ancestral veneration. Specific clan taboos, areas for offerings, and even animals associated with the clan founder could have been major concerns in early Kanem (Chapelle 362). The mai, or head of the senior lineage and clan group, would have been at the zenith of clan leaders whose marriage alliances with other clans brought some degree of centralization and common investment from each one. The spread of these clans into Kanem, Borno and even other areas like the Tibetsi and Kawar, must have, even if fabricated in some cases, brought a degree of unity and shared belief in a shared origin defined by similar ceremonial offerings to ancestors. Women and the clan of the queen mothers of Kanem must have been important for this reason, or at least important enough to be recalled by the later editors of the Diwan for the early centuries of Kanem.

An instance of the significance of ancestral veneration and sacrifice can be found in Idris b. Ali's campaigns in Kanem. While campaigning against the Bulala,  Idris b. Ali stopped to pray at the tombs of previous Sayfawa rulers near Njimi. Although the prayers Idris b. Ali recited for his ancestors were Islamic in nature, ethnographic work on the Teda and Daza also include special reverence tied to the graves of ancestors. In addition, Idris b. Ali then gave alms and cattle after the Quran was recited at his ancestors' graves in Njimi. Through commemorating and making offerings to ancestors, one also asks for their intercession. The past rulers of the Sayfawa dynasty and the specific clans of their maternal ancestors points to the possible role of clan intermarriage with forging alliances among the various Teda, Daza, Zaghawa, Kanembu, and Kanuri groups who comprised the population of Kanem. Each clan would have been linked to ruling dynasty through intermarriage, rituals, taboos and ceremonies that brought them to the royal court and created bonds through offerings. Manan, the "pagan" capital of Kanem, possibly featured a stream, grotto, or spiritually significant place for offerings. It is likely that a form of divination ceremony took place at caves, the kurkuri of the Daju and Zaghawa mentioned by Palmer (in Bornu Sahara and Sudan 212). It is also possible that specific clans, such as the Tomagheras and others mentioned in the Diwan, may have had names derived from a wadi, or an animal believed to have assisted the clan founder. The clans could have identified their ancestor or founder with a mountain, tree, or even serpent (Tubiana 16). If so, there may have been specific clans associated with specific roles in rituals involving the king (Tubiana 45). 

The example of the rain ceremony among the Zaghawa, for instance, brought together members of various Zaghawa sub-groups and clans to a spiritually significant place for a ceremony that included the offering to a spirit and ritual feasting. A similar practice was also observed among the Keira sultans of Darfur and the rulers of Wadai, states which were also influenced by Kanem-Borno. Indeed, something similar was likely practiced in Borno, too. Muhammad Bello's letters with al-Kanemi accuses the Muslims of Borno of shirk, as they performed sacrifices at rivers and possibly even sacrificed a virgin in a river (Bello, 72). While these practices might reflect some of the pre-Islamic beliefs of Buduma, Marghi, Kotoko and "Sao peoples" who initially resisted the Sayfawa, they also resemble those practiced among the Teda, Daza, and Zaghawa. Thus, the alleged worship or sacrifices to idols in trees and rivers could have also been a remnant of Teda, Daza, and pre-Islamic Kanuri beliefs. Indeed, even if the improper practices written of by Muhammad Bello were exaggerated or perhaps a product of indigenous populations living near Borno who gradually adopted Islam, the continuity of ritual seclusion among the mais suggests a strong link to the pre-Islamic past. Yet it would be intriguing to study the words for God among the neighbors of the Kanuri to establish the origin of ramabe, a term which may have been the original Kanuri word for God (Koelle 275).  In light of these considerations, perhaps for reasons of ritual seclusion and sacred places more so than other factors, Idris b. Ali's mother had the brick mosque and palace at Gambaru constructed for his use. Njimi in Kanem, the capital after Manan, also used fired-brick for constructions that clearly designated the area of the mai as distinct.

Addressing the issue of the mune may further elucidate the matter at hand. The mune, often presented as a pagan relic that, once opened or destroyed by Dunama Dibalemi, led to dissolution and civil war among the Sayfawa (which certainly was common enough in 13th and 14th century Kanem as civil wars, assassinations, deposed mais, usurpers, and conflict with the Bulala and Sao indicate), presents a number of historical questions. Palmer, whose Sudanese Memoirs is an important yet problematic source on Borno, mentions the Zaghawa of Wadai referring to the Quran covered in skins as Mani. Moreover, the "pagan" Beli and Zaghawa allegedly believed mani was a ram stored in a cave. Even though one must use Palmer very carefully, the mune of Kanem was likely something derived from pre-Islamic beliefs yet redefined or adapted to fit Islam. Thus, Ahmad b. Furtu described the mune as something wrapped up and vital to the success of the Sayfawa. Indeed, our Bornoan chronicler compared it to the Ark of the Covenant. Thus, opening or destroying the mune was perceived by a 16th century Borno intellectual as un-Islamic. This is a testament to the degree to which pre-Islamic Kanem practices were capable of adaption to new religious and political paradigms. The mune, from pre-Islamic Kanem to the Muslims of the Sayfawa, was a talisman or highly charged spiritual object capable of reinterpretation through Islamic lens. According to Muhammad Yanbu, the mune was also carried into army and therefore associated with the military successes of the mais (Bobboyi 87).

Although there is inherent danger in relying too heavily on 20th century ethnographic studies of the Zaghawa and Tubu peoples, their ethnographic present likely illuminates aspects of early Kanem. After all, Islamization among the Tubu and Zaghawa is a late phenomenon, and they appear to have been closely linked to the major clans that contributed to the formation of Kanem. Thus, their practices of sadaga or offerings, veneration of ancestors, practice of clan totems and taboos, and belief in the centrality of the king in specific rituals tied to rain and agriculture are probable indicators of what early Kanem looked like. Thus, the early kings of Kanem were probably not objects of worship of their subjects. However, their position was closely linked to spiritual power or contact with ancestors and spirits that required offerings. Through ritual seclusion and the maintenance of specific ceremonies of rain-making or, in the case of Darfur, a festival in which the king physically engaged in a sowing festival, the kings of Kanem were the ritual center of the state. Marriages with other clans must have further cemented the unification around an early polity as other clans would have contributed participants in important state ceremonies. Early Kanem's conversion to Islam was not necessarily seen as disruptive to this "traditional" order as Islam and its message of a universal God could have been used to buttress the belief in the king's sacral powers. Thus, the mais could have continued to venerate ancestors, maintain some of the pre-Islamic customs, and incorporate Islamic scholarship and pilgrimage into their toolbelt of spiritual (and supernatural) power. Even after conversion and despite the resistance of some Tubu and Zaghawa to Islam, the maintenance of clan identities and traditions, remembered through oral history, written genealogies and chronicles, must have contributed to some degree of common identity and investment in the Sayfawa state from its core.

Works Consulted

Barth, Heinrich. Travels and Discoveries in North and Central Africa: Being a Journal of an Expedition Undertaken Under the Auspices of H.B.M.'s Government in the Years 1849-1855. New York: D. Appleton, 1857.

Bjørkelo AJ. State and Society in Three Central Sudanic Kingdoms Kanem-Bornu Bagirmi and Wadai. Bergen: Universitetet i Bergen; 1976.

Bobboyi, Hamidu. The'Ulama of Borno: A study of the relations between scholars and state under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808. Northwestern University, 1992.

Chapelle, Jean. Nomades noirs du Sahara. Paris: Plon, 1958.

Cohen, Ronald. The Kanuri of Bornu. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967.

Descourtilz, M. E. (Michel Etienne) 1809. Voyages d’un naturaliste. Paris: Dufart, père.

Dewière, Rémi. Du Lac Tchad À La Mecque: Le Sultanat Du Borno Et Son Monde (XVIe - XVIIe Siècle). Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2017.

Galaty, John G., and Pierre Bonte. Herders, Warriors, and Traders: Pastoralism in Africa. Boulder: Westview Press, 1991.

Hopkins, J. F. P., and Nehemia Levtzion. Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History. 1st Markus Weiner Publishers ed. Princeton [N.J.]: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2000.

Ibn Furṭū, Aḥmad, and Dierk Lange. A Sudanic Chronicle: The Borno Expeditions of Idrīs Alauma (1564-1576) According to the Account of Aḥmad B. Furṭū : Arabic Text, English Translation, Commentary and Geographical Gazetteer. Stuttgart: F. Steiner, 1987.

Koelle, S. W. (Sigismund Wilhelm). African Native Literature, or Proverbs, Tales, Fables, & Historical Fragments in the Kanuri or Bornu Language. To Which Are Added a Translation of the Above and a Kanuri-English Vocabulary. London: Church Missionary House, 1854.

Lange, Dierk. Le Dīwān Des Sultans Du (Kānem-)Bornū: Chronologie Et Histoire D'un Royaume Africain (de La Fin Du Xe Siècle Jusqu'à 1808). Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, 1977.

Magnavita, Carlos, Zakinet Dangbet and Tchago Bouimon, « The Lake Chad region as a crossroads: an archaeological and oral historical research project on early Kanem-Borno and its intra-African connections », Afrique : Archéologie & Arts, 15 | 2019, 97-110.

Palmer, H. R. (Herbert Richmond). The Bornu Sahara and Sudan. Nigeria. J. Murray, 1936.

------. Sudanese Memoirs: Being Mainly Translations of a Number of Arabic Manuscripts Relating to the Central and Western Sudan. 1st ed., new impression. London: Cass, 1967.

Redhouse, J. W. “Translation from the Original Arabic of a History or Journal of the Events Which Occurred during Seven Expeditions in the Land of Kānim, against the Tribes of Bulala, &c., by the Sultan of Burnu, Idris the Pilgrim, Son of ’Ali; Preceded by Some Details of the Sultan’s Ancestors.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 19 (1862): 43–123. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25228715.

Rosman, Abraham. Social Structure and Acculturation Among the Kanuri of Northern Nigeria  / by Abraham Rosman. Yale University, 1966.

Tério, Abdelkérim Souleyman, Origine Et Evolution Des Zaghawa: Du Royaume Du Kanem Aux Etats Modernes (VIIIe-XXIe Siècle). N'Djaména, Tchad :Éditions SAO, 2014.

Trimingham, J. Spencer. A History of Islam in West Africa. London: Published for the University of Glasgow by the Oxford U.P

Tubiana, Marie José. Survivances Préislamiques En Pays Zaghawa. Paris: Institut d'ethnologie, 1964.

Unesco. International Scientific Committee for the Drafting of a General History of Africa. General History of Africa. London : Berkeley: Heinemann Educational Books; University of California Press, 1981.

Yusuf, Salahudeen., and Muḥammad Bello. A History of Islam, Scholarship and Revivalism in Western Sudan, Being an Annotated Translation with Introduction of Infaqul-Maisur Fi Tarikh Bilad Al-Tukur of Sultan Muhammad Bello Bin Fodio  Zaria: Tamaza, 2013.

Nubia, Ethiopia, and Latin Europe

Nubia, Ethiopia, and the Crusading World, 1095-1402 by Adam Simmons is one of the more interesting new books on medieval Nubia. Focusing on Latin Christian engagement and knowledge of medieval Nubia (Ethiopia of Antiquity) during the Crusades, Simmons argues rather persuasively that it was first Dotawo (Nubia) instead of Ethiopia that occupied Latin Europe's interest. Indeed, it is probable that medieval Nubia was the first African Prester John and Nubian interactions with Latin Europe, imagined or real, appear to have been the basis of Muslim Egypt's fears of a Christian military alliance. 

Moreover, Simmons draws on a vast corpus of texts, including those of Latin Europe, the Islamic world, and Eastern Christianity, to support his contention of growing Latin European knowledge and interest in Nubia. It was only later, after the Solomonic dynasty appropriated the name Ethiopia and news of Amda Seyon's exploits reached Europe, that the Abyssinian Solomonic state began to attract significant European interest. In fact, according to Simmons, Solomonic Ethiopia even appropriated the Candaces of ancient Nubia into the story of their Biblical origins. Apocalyptic traditions from Eastern Christianity predicting the meeting of a Nubian (Ethiopian) king and a Roman king also fueled interest in Nubia that was later transferred to Solomonic Ethiopia. 

The main problem with the text is the paucity of Nubian and Ethiopian sources to tell their side of the story. Without a comparable rich corpus of texts in Old Nubian (or, perhaps, Syriac, Coptic and Greek) and Ge'ez, this study remains quite speculative on how Nubians, and later Solomonic Ethiopia, shaped the discourse on Christian Africa in Europe or the course of the Crusades. Suggestive encounters like Nubian pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela or interactions between the Europeans and Nubians in the Holy Land hint at possible deeper connections, but we are lacking so much information from the African side. Moreover, if we accept the quite plausible analysis of the author on a Nubian diplomatic mission to the papal court in the early 1300s, perhaps in the context of conflict for the throne of Dotawo among pro-Mamluk and anti-Mamluk contenders, we still have the interesting question of how Nubian envoys reached the Latin West. Were people in Medieval Nubia also traveling to the Mediterranean via ancient Saharan routes to the Northwest? Could Nubians have, via their interactions with western Sudanic states and the Maghreb, have endeavored to establish links to the Latin West? 

Furthermore, what was the response of powerful states like Kanem to these developments? Kanem in the late 1200s and for much of the 1300s faced a number of internal problems and succession crises, but could Kanem's alleged expansion to the far east, as far as the Nile, have occurred during the turbulent era of Mamluk-Dotawo relations in the late 1200s and early 1300s? Or was Ahmad b. Furtu exaggerating the past might and influence of the Sayfawa dynasty when he claimed their power was felt as far away as Nubia? One must recall al-Idrisi's mention of Nubian and Kanem spheres of influence in at least part of the vast region between the two kingdoms. Were there any tensions between them that may have also shaped the growing Latin European knowledge of Nubia and interest in alliances? 

Was there any impact of the Eastern Christian apocalyptic prophecies and Islamic hadiths on Ethiopia's threat to Islam that would have shaped the Sayfawa dynasty's presentation of itself as a defender of Islam? Were people from Kanem who had traveled to Egypt or Hafsid Tunis cognizant of burgeoning Frankish interest in Nubia and Abyssinia? The improvement of European cartography in the 1300s and 1400s suggests that European cartographers had informants from Kanem or who had at least traveled there. One must also remember the lodge for pilgrims and students in Cairo, funded by the kings of Kanem and established in the 1200s. Perhaps Kanem travelers and students were able to learn of Nubian-Latin Christian relations and Egyptian fears of the a Nubian-Franksh alliance. Despite our inability to answer any of these questions, Kanem's relations with Nubia is a fascinating one that would possibly connect events in the Chad basin with Dotawo for a more Sudanic-centered perspective on Nubian history. It could also lead to new questions about the Kanem-Tunis connections during the Crusading era and possible interactions with Latin Europe that overlapped with Nubian-Latin Christian relations.

West African Food in the Middle Ages

Lewicki's West African Food in the Middle Ages is one of those useful reference books for anyone interested in finding out more about the alimentary factors in the history of Sudanic West Africa before the changes wrought by the introduction of American crops after 1492. It covers the period from the 900s until the early 1500s, mainly drawing from medieval external Arabic sources and later post-Leo Africanus sources from Europe or West African chronicles. For anyone interested in the Western Sudan from Takrur and the Senegambia to Mali and Songhay, there will be some useful information. Even Hausaland, Saharan and Sahelian Tuareg, Mauritania, Kanem, and Borno are included. The societies south of the savanna are usually omitted, though references to kola and Yoruba cuisine will occasionally appear in the text.

Unfortunately, since the book is basically a list of the various types of food and some of the dishes prepared in West Africa's Sahel and savanna lands, there is not too much in the way of analysis. Moreover, since many of our sources are external Arabic geographies or accounts, there is a lot of room for error, doubt, and uncertainty. For instance, Lewicki theorizes from al-Umari's account of Mali that criminals or convicts may have been sacrificed in an annual yam ritual akin to that of the Asante and other groups south of the empire of Mali. He could very well be correct, but there are too many uncertainties and unknown factors in the interpretation of the Arabic sources or the chronology of certain customs or culinary habits. Some dishes and drinks, such as mead, the use of millet for beer and porridges, sorghum, and milk or butter, appear across the region and are probably of very deep antiquity in West Africa. Imported spices and things such as wheat, onions, lemons, peaches, and sugarcane attest to changes in consumption patterns tied to trade, migration, and cultural shifts. One can look at, for instance, al-Bakri's description of Awdaghust, with its North Africans (coming from societies where wheat was an important crop) and its black women slave cooks well-known for their confections as an example of the probable culinary culture that characterized other Sahelian trading towns or centers. 

Despite the structural problems of this book basically consisting of a series of lists and some of the necessarily speculative theories or conclusions, it really does provide greater clarity as to the basic diet of various West African peoples. The ancestors of the Imraguen of Mauritania, who feasted on sea turtles, or the Bambara consumption of dogs is explained adequately. Widespread eating of carrion is also elucidated, bringing more context to Ibn Battuta's negative perception of dietary habits in Mali. Moreover, the early introduction of Mediterranean and Asian crops or domesticates in West Africa raises all sorts of interesting questions. Lewicki was writing at a time when Arkell's theory of Christian Nubian influence in lands west of the Nile was great, but looking at Kanem, one finds early references to sugarcane and Mediterranean crops. Some of these were not common in Borno during the 19th century but one cannot avoid the obvious conclusion that Kanem-Borno was part of a complex pattern of agricultural and cultural change across West Africa. 

The Horse in West African History

Robin Law's The Horse in West African History is one of the indispensable studies anyone with an interest in Borno history must read. Although encompassing the entirety of West Africa, Borno frequently appears as one of the centers of the West African equestrian tradition. Not only was the imported, superior horse pivotal in the military expansion of Kanem and later Borno, but Borno became a center of horse breeding that likely was pivotal for the expansion of the Islamic-influenced technology to other regions, like Hausaland. The horse, as Law convincingly demonstrates, permitted a significant enlargement of the scale of political organization. The mounted warriors of states like Kanem-Borno were able to cover more ground quickly, pursue fleeing captives or defeated opponents, and, to at least a limited extent, build the power and prestige of rulers who provided horses or expensive equipment (quilted cloth armor, imported chainmail, saddles, stirrups). While horses must have been known in Kanem before the reign of Dunama Dibalemi in the 1200s, it was the introduction of stirrups and new technology that made the cavalry units of states like Mali and Kanem-Borno so powerful. Law's study elucidates this process with some provocative conclusions on the relationship of technology, tradition, and the state.

Although horses have been in West Africa for several centuries and a pre-Islamic tradition of horsemanship developed in areas of the northern savanna and the Jos Plateau, the widespread adoption of horses for military purposes in even the forested regions of West Africa illustrate the significance of the animal and new technology in the political economy of various states. States created by or at least associated with mounted warriors appeared among the Mossi and other parts of West Africa. Oyo, the subject of Law's dissertation, represents another example. In this case, a large Yorubaland state emerged whose expansion owed much to cavalry forces used with great success. Horses were so important and prestigious in West Africa that they became symbols of status for rituals, ceremonies, and even, as among the Igbo, objects of sacrifice. Due to their expense, especially in the forest regions where a reduced life expectancy meant replacements were always required, the horse became rightly associated with wealth, status, and power. The costs associated with feeding and maintenance could also be astronomical, again conveying the association of horses with political power and wealth. 

In our beloved Borno, where the horse was bred by groups like the Shuwa, the horse was less expensive but a superior one with the finest equipment was still largely the preserve of the wealthy (and their free clients or slaves). After all, if Leo Africanus's confused account of Borno is reliable, fine horses acquired via the trans-Saharan trade were intimately linked to the slave trade, which in turn was linked to the state and its military apparatus in the procurement of captives for export. In fact, Law speculates that access to Dongola breed horses via Arabs migrating into the Lake Chad region may have been an additional factor in the Bulala driving the Sayfawa dynasty out of Kanem in the 1380s. So, clearly horses have played a huge role in the rise and fall of the Sayawa. In order to acquire the best quality of horses and equipment like chainmail, a brutal cycle of horse-slave trading developed. The horse becomes a key component of the political economy of war or the "ownership of the means of destruction" in which kings and powerful nobles armed warriors with the necessary mounts to produce the captives who then brought in more horses or luxury imports that could be redistributed to dependents or re-exported. This may have explanatory value for the "Sudanic" state in other parts of the Central Sudan and the savanna lands, even if it is not a perfect example of Aristotle's oligarchy nor a "feudal" system per se. One finds parallels for sure with Bagirmi, Wadai, and Darfur. 

What is most interesting about this is the pioneer role of Kanem-Borno in the rise and fall of the horse's military importance. Kanem was likely one of the first of the early kingdoms to adopt stirrups and acquire access to North African or Dongola horses. And while Dunama Dibalemi's expansion of Kanem is also mentioned in the context of the vast number of horses he held, earlier rulers of Kanem may have possibly initiated the process of increasingly vital cavalry units for military purposes or lightning-quick raids on decentralized or political fragmented societies. Since Kanem was associated with the trans-Saharan slave trade as early as the 9th century, one would think horses were in use for at least slave raids if not in other military ventures. Unfortunately, until archaeological evidence or new textual sources emerge, our theory of Kanem as a pioneer is impossible to prove. Nonetheless, Kanem was certainly one of the early West African states identified by Law to adopt the mounted warrior as a central component of its army, which occurred by the 13th century. States in the Kanem-Borno sphere of influence in turn adopted or adapted cavalry in ways that reflect Kanuri influence, at least in the case of Bagirmi and perhaps Hausaland.

Borno under the Sayfawa were also pioneers in the early use of firearms. Everyone knows of Idris Alooma's use of muskets and even Turkish specialists brought in to assist with their implementation. Unfortunately, subsequent mais of Borno appear to have lost interest or the resources to maintain an important musketry corps in the army, although the occasional gift of muskets from Tripoli arrived during the reign of Idris Alooma's grandson. Soon, according to Law, the western part of West Africa and the coastal zones were the first to successfully make a permanent transition to firearms in the 1700s and 1800s. But Borno preceded these zones as early as the late 1500s, only to continue its reliance on horse warriors even into the second half of the 1800s. Why did Borno not maintain an active or at least notable musketry corps? The guns were still cheaper than fully equipped horses, and could have been utilized with enslaved soldiers to further centralize political power. Perhaps, as O'Fahey suggested in the case of Darfur, the greater mobility of cavalry was the primary factor. It is interesting, however, to note that the debate on political centralization and its relationship with a dominant cavalry or musketry is more complicated, but Borno, for a moment, was, during at least part of its "Golden Age" able to draw on both. The effective combination of the two could have cemented political centralization under the Sayfawa, although a corps of enslaved musketeers may have been too much of a threat to the dominant position of the cavalry and regional elites who supplied horses. 

1000 Years of Splendor

Although Philip Koslow's Kanem-Borno: 1,000 Years of Splendor is part of a series of books directed to young readers, we found it useful during our initial "serious" interest in the history of Kanem-Borno. As part of a series for children and with a title that uses the word splendor, one can already guess that the book general narrative will be one of uncovering a "glorious" African past that is unexpected or surprising to the average Westerner. That is undoubtedly what the book delivers, but we were pleasantly surprised to see the level of research Koslow invested in this work. Drawing on Lange, the UNESCO General History of Africa series, Palmer, Nachtigal, Barth, and the publications of Lebeuf and others on the Sao, Koslow does not dumb down the subject matter.

Unfortunately, the text problematically repeats some of the unfounded or weaker claims of Lange. For instance, the assertion on page 21 that the Sefuwa dynasty was of Berber stock but "de-Berberised" through intermarriage with local leading lineages is not clear from the available sources. Kanuri and other scholars also offer a different interpretation of the mune incident during the reign of Dunama. Furthermore, at least one of the images is paired with an incorrect caption. An engraving from the 1820s depicting a raid on Mandara is described as a village in Borno on page 33. Likewise on page 34, a caption for a photograph of the minaret of the mosque in Agadez falsely claims the use of clay for building began in the 16th century in Borno. That is almost certainly false as the use of fired brick and probably clay predates the 1500s. One could also point out the error in the caption for the image on page 48, incorrectly describing it as a depiction of a sheikh instead of a mai who, by the 1820s, was living on, in part, a subsidy from Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi. 

But a few quibbles aside on inaccurate or misleading captions and repetition of unproven assertions by a major figure in "Bornuology" or Kanem-Borno Studies, this is a good overview of a complex African civilization. There is a summary of the chronicles of Idris Alooma (Idris b. Ali), basic review of some key political points revealed from the Diwan and a short chapter on Borno's turbulent period in the 19th century (shock of the jihad, then Rabeh and European colonialism). There are some interesting photographs of Sao artifacts and an attempt to integrate this mysterious people(s) with the history of Kanem-Borno. In such a brief book, there is only so much that could be done to link the Sao and Kanem-Borno, and there remains so much to learn about the various other populations living near Lake Chad. This book at least highlights some of the neighboring societies and cultures which were either conquered or absorbed by Kanem and Borno through Sao arts and archaeology. If only the author added a little more detail on the period between Idris Alooma and the rise of al-Kanemi then this would be one of the better introductory texts. Certainly better than the one Nigerian publication for children we have encountered before that was a brief biography of al-Kanemi. 

Balancing Written and Oral History of the Songhay

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

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

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

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

Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia

After reading a short book on Alwa and revisiting Welsby and Ruffini, we decided to take another look at Vantini's Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia. We read Vantini back in 2020 during a past obsession with the question of Kanem relations to the Eastern Sudan. While one cannot deny the great use of having a compilation of various "Oriental" sources on Nubia from Late Antiquity to the early 16th century as a reference work, far too many of the extracts are incredibly repetitive. Some selections nearly repeat verbatim earlier chronicles or geographical texts, often adding little or no new information. These repetitions can be useful in terms of illustrating the sources for later writers, but makes for rather uninteresting reading. However, it was occasionally interesting to see how mistakes of copyists or authors introduced more confusion, such as transferring to the Nubians a description of the "Zaghawa" of Kanem. Or confusion mixing the Nubians with the Habasha or Beja when detailing relations between the Patriarchs in Alexandria and the southern Christian populations of the Sudan and Ethiopia. Some of these mistakes raise questions about the reliability of the included texts for parts of the "Sudan" and contain clearly legendary materials or outdated ideas derived from Ptolemy on the course of the Nile and the interior of Africa. 

In spite of the cultural, religious and perhaps racial bias of several of the sources, they are of paramount importance for understanding the societies of medieval Nubia. Although modern scholars are correct to stress the significance of relying on internal sources to reconstruct the history of the region, we have relied so heavily on external Arabic sources for West Africa during this same time. If historians have, over time, been able to match the external Arabic texts on West Africa with local archaeological, textual and oral sources, then one should be able to do the same for Nubia. After all, Nubia was even closer to the central Islamic lands and known to the ancient world for several millennia. If used judiciously, these sources tell us something, albeit not enough, of the kingdoms of Makuria and Alwa over a period of 1000 years. Sadly, Alwa was, despite its reputation as the wealthier kingdom, not as well known. But these sources have been used by scholars such as Zarroug for proposing some theories on the kingdom's likely role in east-west trade routes. 

Moreover, when interpreted together, the external Arabic sources point to connections between the different regions of the Sudanic belt of the African continent. We are unsure if some of the copyists or authors made a mistake here, but one source in Vantini actually refers to the ruler of Dahlak levying a duty on the ships of al-Kanam. Our first response is to think Kanem was connected to the Red Sea through ships commissioned by their rulers. There are also references by al-Idrisi to conflict between the Nubians and the Daju between Kanem and Nubia. Other sources mention war between the "Zaghawa" and Nubians. Additional sources point to the pilgrimage route that went from Upper Egypt through the Eastern Desert to Aydhab. Beja and Nubians may have interacted with travelers and traders from the Western and Central Sudan through those arenas, not to mention in Egypt itself. In addition, conflict between the Oasis Dwellers west of the Nile and the Nubians are casually referenced, leading us to wonder about Nubian interests in trade to the northwest and west. Despite their limitations, these sources possess a number of suggestive implications for cultural and economic connections across the "Sudan."Hopefully archaeologists in Chad and Sudan will uncover evidence. 

The Sun Kings and the Central Sudan

Reyna's Wars without End: The Political Economy of a Precolonial African State is one of the few serious studies on the kingdom of Bagirmi accessible online. While mostly based on the 19th century and applying structural Marxist theoretical models to understanding the the Bagirmi state, Reyna proposes some interesting and plausible ideas on this kingdom as an example of predatory accumulation. In some respects, the analysis of Bagirmi's institutions and the role of war can be seen in Kanem-Borno, Wadai and Darfur. All these states seem to be influenced by similar ecological and demographic profiles with some common or shared influences from Kanem's formation sometime in the late first millennium of our era. In other words, the importance of labor in agrarian societies with low productivity shaped by a challenging environment (unpredictable rainfall levels in Bagirmi, for example, or the desiccation of Kanem after 1200), and a household state structure meant that these kingdoms or empires required a system of tribute, taxation and booty through raids to support an elite class of office holders and royal court. 

Family life presents one obvious case of parallels and similarities between Bagirmi and Borno. The domestic mode of production in Bagirmi bears a resemblance to that of Borno in that agriculture was carried out by patrilineal or patrifocal extended kin who, in theory, followed the directives of a male head of the unit. Juniors in this extended family unit were expected to show deference to their superiors until they married and became "successful" by having many children and starting their own unit. This brings to mind Cohen's conclusions on Kanuri family structure and the emphasis on respect or discipline-respect between patrons and clients. A successful Kanuri male would have had many wives, children, and dependents. Having dependents was a source of wealth since they produced the labor that could support his farm or other endeavors. A Kanuri, at least during the time of Cohen's fieldwork, might attach himself as a client to a wealthy or important Kanuri who could one day look out for his interests and assist him. Like the Barma officials of the royal court, government officials in Borno seem to have developed similar patron-client ties with their staff or court staff. Kanuri domestic life seems to have been similar, too, with the domestic mode of production of the village being mirrored by that of the state. 

For the officials of Bagirmi and Borno, more similarities can be found. In order to militarily arm and reward their followers or clients (perhaps clients is more accurate in the Kanuri case than that of the Barma), booty, especially slaves, were necessary to purchase imported horses, weapons, chainmail, or luxuries via trans-Saharan trade. This produced a cycle of contradictions in which the state relied on taxation of surplus crops cultivated by free farmers (with some slave villages in each of the aforementioned kingdoms) at low productivity. The constant raids and levying of tribute in order to supplement this for the ruling group (the mbangs of Bagirmi, mais of Kanem-Borno, kolaks of Wadai) in turn created difficulties for states or acephalous societies in the tributary or predatory zones by harming their domestic mode of production that was often similarly of low productivity. 

Moreover, some of the societies in tributary or predatory zones of the main kingdoms developed into military powers of their own, creating additional tributary or predatory zones that could challenge the "imperial" states and extend the system of predatory accumulation deeper into areas inhabited by "pagans" or kirdi. Reyna does not speculate on this, but one wonders if the origins of Bagirmi and Wadai can be traced to an earlier past as victims of raids from Kanem-Borno before becoming tributary states who gradually asserted themselves into regional powers of the Chad Basin. The Central Sudanic state seems to have preferred to have tributary and predatory zones separating itself from other centralized kingdoms, but the systemic instability of predatory accumulation would have eventually led to the the emergence of other cores that threatened, say, Kanem and later on, Borno. 

The central role played by Kanem-Borno as a major model for Bagirmi and other states in the Chad Basin suggests Bagirmi's history is also one of the contradictory diffusion of a Kanuri model or civilization across much of the Chad Basin (and beyond). According to Reyna, 24 percent of the titles in Bagirmi's court were of Kanuri origin. Similar Kanuri influences can be found as far away as Darfur, Fezzan, and Hausaland. The Sayfawa state appears to have exerted its influence across a vast range of the Central Sudan in a manner that created tributary states which gradually incorporated or adapted aspects of Sayfawa administration. In turn, their states continued or developed a similar state that relied on war and predatory accumulation which, after several centuries, eroded Sayfawa dominance of the Chad Basin. However, because the Kanem state was the origin of the model, even states which had long evaded Sayfawa suzerainty may have found it advantageous to associate with the past regional hegemon whose rulers enjoyed the most ancient association with Islam. This might account for local perception of Borno as the dominant power in the Central Sudan even after its decline in the 18th century. Even tiny Mandara could defeat Borno in 1781, yet others described it as the greatest or most powerful kingdom in the Sudan.

However, knowing that part of Borno's economy was built on the trade in salt, textiles, and its privileged position in trans-Saharan trade links to the Fezzan and Tripoli, one cannot help but wonder if the Sayfawa state did deviate from the predatory accumulation model seen in Bagirmi. According to Dewiere, for instance, Borno did not necessarily procure most of its slave exports from raids carried out by Bornoans. Instead, Borno became a depot for the slave exports of Bagirmi in the 18th century (and probably far earlier). Borno's functioning as a depot and its once dominant position in the movement of salt and textiles must have favored market growth and a prosperous merchant class. While they appear to have not invested in production, we would not be surprised if slave villages were more prominent in Borno than in Bagirmi. Furthermore, Borno faced Hausaland to the west, and was therefore tapped into a vast commercial network that moved kola nuts, salt, leather products, horses, and textiles and even gold. Before the Sokoto Caliphate's rise, Borno appears to have been the economic center of this vast network which must have encouraged some investments in production, market growth, and capital accumulation. Indeed, we know from Heinrich Barth that Kanuri or Bornoan migrants played a pivotal role in Bagirmi's 19th century textile industry. Perhaps Borno was able to deviate from predatory accumulation just before the shocks of the jihad of the early 19th century forever reoriented the Central Sudan.