The Question of a Jewish Presence in Medieval Mali

Songhay at the time of Sonni Ali Ber, in Adam Konare Ba, Sonni Ali Ber.

Although the tradition of a Jewish population near Tindirma (in Mali) has long been known, this past has not been confirmed through archaeology or finds like gravestones. That said, it is remarkable that the tradition has been reported in the Tarikh al-Fattash, the marginalia in Timbuktu manuscripts, and oral tradition collected in the region during the 20^th century. Since some versions of the tradition insert fantastic or unrealistic details, such as the giant stature of the ancient Beni Israel or their 7 leaders commanding thousands of cavalry forces, we previously assumed this was purely legendary. When reconsidering the evidence, however, our opinion has changed to a tempered skepticism.

            First, let us explain our initial stance rejecting the historical validity of the Jewish population in Tindirma. The 1447 letter of Antonio Malfante, a man who traveled to Tuwat and wrote of the area’s Jewish population, also mentioned their prominence in trade. But the same author wrote of the “Philistines” of the Sahara, apparently Tuareg, who did not let Jews pass through their territory. According to Malfante, “They are sworn enemies of the Jews, who do not dare pass hither.”[1] Assuming Malfante correctly understood the nature of the Jewish community’s relationship with Saharan nomads, the Jewish population in Tamentit or other northern Saharan trading centers did not usually cross the Sahara. If they did, the “Philistines” presumably harassed them.

            Of course, it is very dangerous to rely too heavily (and uncritically) on a single source. It is certainly possible some Jews crossed the Sahara from Tuwat in the 1400s. Their presence in Songhay during the reign of Askia Muhammad is likewise implied by the government’s actions to ban them and despoil traders of their goods for doing business with Jews.[2] Leo Africanus also echoed this, describing the ruler of Songhay (or the “king” of Timbuktu) as “an inveterate enemy of the Jews.”[3] It is difficult to imagine the need for anti-Jewish laws or proclamations if there were absolutely no Jewish people in the domains of Songhay. While al-Maghili’s role in this is quite probable, one must wonder to what attitudes regarding Jews existed in the Western Sudan.

            An additional type of evidence attesting to the Jewish colony of Tindirma can be found in the margins of various manuscripts from Timbuktu. According to Susana Molins Lliteras, notes dated to 1504/5 describe the ancient Jewish presence near Tindirma. These notes report that the Jews were buried with their heads facing west. Furthermore, the presence of Hebrew inscriptions was noted. This type of evidence must be carefully evaluated, but it illustrates how the idea of a Jewish presence in Tindirma was around by the early 16^th century. Indeed, despite the Hebrew writing, the notes mention a donation in the area as well as an allusion to knives and swords.[4] Perhaps this is referring to some type of military regime or system in place to defend the area’s prosperous farmers?

            Besides the marginalia in Timbuktu manuscripts, the Tarikh al-Fattash echoes the notion of a Jewish past in Tindirma. Although its composite nature and 19^th century interpolation forces one to consider that the references to the Jewish presence are based on oral traditions, it brings new details into the narrative. For instance, the report on the Tindirma region in the chronicle alludes to the use of wells by the Jews as a water source for their farms. It is also here where the legend of 7 Jewish princes arose, who allegedly each commanded a group of 12,000 horsemen. They were also said to have partitioned the 333 wells built for agricultural purposes among themselves. The names given to these princes appear to be Arabic, such as Fadl ben Mizar.

In terms of the community’s disappearance, the chronicle only mentions that a single Jew was there when a Sorko man and his wife, Marma came to the region. When the kurmina-fari Amar arrived to establish Tindirma as his capital, this lone survivor was dead. This account seems particularly legendary, but the Jewish man named his town Bako.[5] Yet, if the date of 1497 for Umar Komadiakha’s appointment as kurmina-fari is accurate, this suggests that whatever Jewish communities lived in the region had disappeared or dispersed by the late 15^th century.[6]

            As one moves into the colonial era, a reconnaissance of Tindirma was conducted by Bonnel de Mézières. This Frenchman traveled to Tindirma in the company of a respected Timbuktu scholar. He claimed to have seen evidence of the extensive wells built in the region as well as the Jewish cemetery. He also found evidence of a tumulus at Coigur.[7] Since he personally witnessed what was described as the cemetery of the Beni Israel and traveled with an informant presenting oral traditions, there does seem to have been, in the distant past, a prosperous community here perceived as non-Muslims. At least, that’s what was commonly believed by this period.

            Later, in the postcolonial era, Mahmoud Abdou Zouber collected oral traditions published as Traditions historiques songhoy (Tindirma, Morikoyra, Arham). A number of local informants recounted the tradition of an ancient Jewish presence in the region, though sometimes contradicting each other. In some cases, it is also possible that the local traditions were influenced by the Tarikh al-Fattash or drew from similar sources. Yet one key difference is the reference to possible conflict with the Songhay under the Si dynasty. According to one informant, one “Israelite” was in the region when Umar (Amar Aboubakari) built the mosque in Tindirma. Said to have perished at a place called Founefoune 3 years after the arrival of the kurmina-fari, which has been dated to 1497, the single survivor of the community would have died in c. 1500. This informant also reported that the Jews were not defeated in battle or exterminated. Instead, he reported, “Ces Israélites n'ont pas été exterminés par la guerre ; ils sont morts tout simplement.”[8]

On the other hand, other informants hinted at a military conflict that ended the Jewish presence in the region. According to tradition, Sonni Ali had a grand court at Tindirma, suggesting the region was once important to 15^th century Songhay rulers before Askia Muhammad. Moreover, the town, Baka, between Tindirma and Lessoudji was said to have been the place where Jews established a community and subjected the local inhabitants. In the words of the informant, “Les Israélites s’y ont fixés, et ont exercé leur domination sur les autochtones.”[9] This town, Baka, sounds suspiciously close to the name of the Jewish town in the Tarikh al-Fattash. Where things differ is the tradition of the barakoy, Mansikoura, said to have battled the Jews. Indeed, an informant said “C’est le Barakoy qui a vaincu les Israélites et les a contraints à descendre jusqu'à Tindirma.”[10] Elsewhere, the area the Jews once resided in is referred to as the Barissileyla, a place near the river where Jewish tombs, human remains, and wells were found. As for the barakoy, his title appears to include the word mansa, a title used by the barakoy in the Songhay Empire.

Sketch of the Fati region by Bonnel de Mézières.

While the traditions imply that the barakoy had used military force to displace the Jewish population, it is not clear to what extent said venture may have contributed to the dissolution of the community. Tradition suggests this occurred in the 15^th century, too, likely during the reign of Sonni Ali (c. 1464-1492). After all, Sonni Ali is said to have conquered Bara, the region where Tindirma seemingly was a part of.[11] If the traditions are not entirely legendary, there is a chance that the Jewish community of the area was relocated by a barakoy at this time. Later on, by the late 15^th century, the community had died out or dispersed. But the references to the construction of wells and agricultural produce suggest that, for some time at least, the local elites from this allegedly Jewish population lived off the taxation and agricultural production of the region. To what extent they were linked to supplying provisions to Timbuktu or other towns is unclear, but one could imagine a scenario in which Jewish traders might have expanded their interests in the region by investing in agriculture. Their construction of well-built wells for sources of water may have also appealed to Sonni Ali, who once expressed an interest in canals and has been said to have sponsored the creation of wells in the Gourma region.[12] In fact, a tradition reported by Boubou Hama asserts that Jews supported Sonni Ali against the Islamic clerical class and Tuareg.[13] Consequently, it is not inconceivable that Jewish traders with links to Tuwat and a settlement near the Niger supported Sonni Ali during his conquests of Jenne, Timbuktu and other parts of the Middle Niger.

Traditions of the barakoy chasing Jews may contradict this possible alliance between Sonni Ali and the Jews. But it is possible that the Jewish presence near Tindirma, however small or large it may have been, expressed support for Sonni Ali. Their dispersal through the hydraulic program of the Songhay leader could have led to the dissolution of the community. Then, under Askia Muhammad, persecution or banning of Jews may have further weakened whatever was left of the Jewish presence in the region. Ultimately, whatever was left of the community near Tindirma ended by the late 1490s as Askia Muhammad became the ruler of Songhay. Despite that, oral tradition recorded a non-Muslim presence in the area that was very likely tied to Jewish traders who may have come from Tuwat. Since oral traditions, chronicles and, to a certain extent, archaeological traces of ancient wells survive, the notion of a Jewish community in the 15^th century Western Sudan is quite plausible. To what extent they encouraged proselytization or how they managed the area under their authority is unclear, but it was likely in decline by the late 15^th century during the reign of Sonni Ali.

---

[1] Antonio Malfante, “Letter from Tuwat”, in The Voyages of Cadamosto and Other Documents on Western Africa in the Second Half of the Fifteenth Century.

[2] John Hunwick, Jews of a Saharan Oasis, 64

[3] John Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire: Al-Sa‘dī's Ta’rīkh al-sūdān down to 1613 and other Contemporary Documents, 281.

[4] Susana Molins Lliteras, “The Making of a Historian in Timbuktu: The Signed Marginalia Attributed to Mahmud Ka’ti in the Fondo Ka’ti Collection”, in Scribal Practice and the Global Cultures of Colophons, 1400–1800, 147-148.

[5] Octave Houdas (trans.), Tarikh el-Fettach" ou Chronique du chercheur pour servir à l'histoire des villes, des armées, et des principaux personnages du Tekrour: documents arabes relatifs à l'histoire du Soudan, 119-123.

[6] John Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire, 104, 343.

[7] Bonnel de Mézières, “Reconnaissance à Tendirma et dans la région de Fati, Bulletin de la Section de Géographie, t. XXIX, 130-131.

[8] Mahmoud Abdou Zouber, Traditions historiques songhoy (Tindirma, Morikoyra, Arham), 14-18.

[9] Ibid., 74.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire, 92.

[12] Adam Konare Ba, Sonni Ali Ber, 102.

[13] Ibid., 102-103.

Development and Regression on the Middle Niger

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

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

Timbuktu and the Arma

Michel Abitbol's Tombouctou et les arma is an important work on the history of the Pashalik of the Arma. Most people often ignore the 2 centuries or so of political and social history of Timbuktu and the Niger Bend after the fall of Songhay. Abitbol's work shows just how important that later, post-Songhay period was in terms of the Pashalik's political, social, economic, and regional importance. Indeed, the Pashalik persisted for so long partly because Timbuktu continued to be a major center for commerce and bridge between the Maghrib and the Sudan, long after the decline of al-Mansur's dynasty and the end of the Askias of Gao. However, even the Askias survived in a fashion, since a branch of them became close allies with the Arma regime. And while the authority of the Pashalik was later limited to Timbuktu, Djenne, Gao and other areas of the Niger Bend, and often became reduced to a ceremonial power of investiture for Tuareg chiefs who could sometimes attack or pillage the area with impunity, the Pashas continued to be the recognized authority of Timbuktu and a major power until the rise of Macina. Intriguingly, Abitbol believed the Arma, who became acclimatized and, later on, developing dominant families who dominated the position of pasha, despite the usually short tenures, were not a class per se. Instead, they were a leadership elite of essentially military origin and function. However, their alliance with the sharifs, ulama, merchants, Askias, and ownership of large numbers of slaves (who sometimes worked the land they owned) and dependents or haratins suggest something on the nature of a class society. The rather large corpus of sources used by Abitbol also suggests Timbuktu's importance in trans-Saharan trade retained its significance, too, surpassing in overall value the exports of other areas of the Sudan to North Africa. Clearly, there was a basis for great wealth accumulation and, in one case, a Pasha who even endeavored to emulate the great emperors of Mali and Songhay, possibly with the intention of recreating their grandeur for the Pashalik.

Cissoko, Timbuktu, and the Songhay Empire

Sékéné Mody Cissoko's Tombouctou et l'empire Songhay is a fascinating yet problematic work. Originally published in the 1970s, and by an author who accepted the theories of Cheikh Anta Diop and believed in the need of connecting postcolonial African nation-states to their precolonial past, the Songhay Empire is presented as the apogee of Western Sudanese civilization. We are led to believe or accept a number of premises, including that the Songhay state was a modernizing one and that the pyramidal character of buildings and mosque construction in the region may be a reflection of connections with Ancient Egypt. Cissoko also asserts that the level of learning at Timbuktu was comparable to a university, despite his acknowledgement that the city lacked the madrasas characteristic of Egypt or the Maghreb and the decentralized nature of instruction which emphasized Islamic religious education or law. In addition, Timbuktu, as the intellectual and economic capital of the vast Sudanese empire, characterized the Islamic influence that was largely marginal or absent in the South and east of the Empire. Indeed, Cissoko's work reflects this dichotomous view of Songhay civilization as one torn between the "high" Islamic culture and literacy of the towns and western provinces versus the found of traditional beliefs and religions in areas like Dendi. In fact, Sonni Ali's infamous relations with the ulama of Timbuktu is presented as an example of anticlericalism while the Sonni were and are associated with magic or sorcery in the "traditional" Songhay culture. 

Despite it's flaws, perhaps Cissoko's synthesis is worthwhile as a testament to the methodology and value postcolonial African historians practiced with regard to the Western Sudan. Cissoko clearly sought to balance the usual written sources with oral traditions and ethnographic work based on his own work and that of scholars like Jean Rouch and Boubou Hama. While it was not especially successful in Cissoko's case, and perhaps he overstates the "clash" between "animist" traditional religion and Islam, Cissoko's study raises a number of relevant historical questions and contemporary dilemmas. For instance, is it true that the Songhay Empire, at its zenith under the Askias, created a modern state in which the rulership was independent and dissociated from the individual with a greater degree of political centralization? The evidence utilized by our author, mainly restricted to the Tarikhs, al-Maghili's responses to Askia Muhammad and Leo Africanus, do not suffice to adequately answer this question. Furthermore, if the masses of the population of Songhay were slaves, why was it not a slave society? Surely the lack of sufficient documentation makes the demographic analysis of Cissoko questionable, particularly in his high estimates for Timbuktu's population. 

Furthermore, one could ask if it is a fair portrayal of the bourgeoisie marchande in Cissoko's analysis? Was it true that they did not invest their profits locally into things like land, new enterprises, or industries that could have revolutionized the economy? If 16th century Songhay truly enjoyed such a prolonged period of commercial success and growth, is it fair to make Cissoko's generalization given our paucity of sources? One can see how Cissoko thought addressing that question would be rather relevant to 20th century postcolonial Malian or African readers of his work. As their postcolonial states sought economic growth or development with different models, perhaps Cissoko's critique of the alleged wastefulness of the Askias and Songhay elites had more to do with the modern political and economic elites in Mali. That said, Cissoko's study does offer a (dated) comprehensive overview of the Songhay Empire that raises a number of interesting questions. We shall endeavor to explore some of those questions with Michał Tymowski.

Timbuktu's Patriciate

Elias Saad's Social History of Timbuktu: The Role of Muslim Scholars and Notables, 1400–1900 is an important study of the social tradition of the scholar-notable as a Timbuktu patriciate for about 500 years of urban history. This social tradition of scholar-notables helped define a recurring theme of autonomism in Timbuktu as scholars, through the judgeship and imamates, effectively administered the city through the long series of conquerors and states or empires that absorbed it. This rather unique position of Timbuktu and its renown as a center of Islamic learning makes it an interesting case study for understanding the Islamic city and its relationship with the Saharo-Sahelian and Sudanic contexts in which Timbuktu was intimately linked. 

Indeed, early Timbuktu, from the earliest chains of transmission still extant, was heavily indebted to southern Soninke and Malinke locations for its early Islamic scholars. Timbuktu's position as a site of prominence for Islamic scholarship in the Saharan, Sahelian and Sudanic regions was also based on the wealthiest families of different ethnic origins found the city to be a site where the pursuit of the acquisition of Islamic learning (especially jurisprudential learning) served an integrative function. This allowed Sanhaja, Arab, Soninke, Malinke, Songhai, Fulani, and others to come together in Timbuktu's early origins as a trading center. While not the only city in the Western Sudan to have an origin in a multiethnic trading center, in Timbuktu the goal of wealthy families, tailors, some craftsmen, and others to acquire literacy and gain the reputation of learned status, plus the ability of the wealthier families to produce renowned scholars, established Timbuktu as the city par excellence with scholar-notables as a patriciate. 

Saad seems to think the 'patriciate' of Timbuktu was defined by Islamic scholarship and the development of a social tradition that favored Timbuktu's autonomy throughout most of the period from c.1400-1900. While the Mali, Mossi, Magsharen Tuareg, Songhai, Ruma (Moroccan invasion force that integrated into society rather quickly), Kel Tadmekkat Tuareg, Kunta, and jihadist Hamdullahi states all claimed suzerainty over Timbuktu at various times in this 500 year period, the scholar-notables always dominated the city (at least in religio-legal spheres) and through the judgeship and the imamates of the main mosques actually administered the town. This appears to have been the case under Malian, Songhai and Ruma rule, attesting the longevity of this social tradition. One could conquer Timbuktu, but in the end the conquerors or invaders were integrated or accepted in some form or another this arrangement. One is not sure if any other city in the Western Sudan could be said to have encompassed a similar social history of a patriciate based on the scholars.

Abu Bakr al-Siddiq of Jamaica and Borno?

Although our sources for Abu Bakr al-Siddiq's maternal ancestry consist solely of his short Arabic autobiographies translated into English, it is interesting to consider his life in a "Central Sudanic" context. Incorporating Borno and Katsina into his biography and family background illustrates how connected or integrated West Africa in the precolonial era truly was. Cities in the "Western Sudan" like Jenne and Timbuktu, where Abu Bakr al-Siddiq's family originated (though claiming descent from the Prophet), were closely tied to trading and learning centers such as Kong and Bouna. The ancient cities of Timbuktu and Jenne were also integrated into "Sudanic" trading routes to the east, through Hausaland and Borno all the way to the Red Sea. Abu Bakr al-Siddiq's family history exemplifies this in a variety of ways. Therefore, one can view the family of al-Siddiq in various contexts: Atlantic World, Caribbean chattel slavery, Saharan and Sahelian Africa, and Dar al-Islam. 

First, who was Abu Bakr al-Siddiq's mother? Named Naghodi in one of his autobiographies, a Hausa term meaning "I am thankful," her Islamic name was Hafsa. She was likely a later wife of his father, Kara Musa. Indeed, al-Siddiq's autobiography lists several half-siblings, indicating that his father had numerous children with at least one other woman or wife. His mother was born in the capital of Borno, presumably some time in the second half of the 18th century. However, her Hausa personal name and links to Katsina suggest Hausa heritage. In consideration of the close economic ties between Borno and Katsina, as well as the past history of Katsina as a tributary state of Kanem-Borno, we cannot rule out a Kanuri origin or affiliation for Naghodi through her father. Indeed, both Katsina and Gazargamo were major trading stops for trans-Saharan caravans coming crossing through the Fezzan and Agadez to reach the "Sudan." Migration of traders, Islamic scholars, and other groups between Katsina and Borno must have occurred on a large scale.

As for the identity of his maternal grandfather, al-Siddiq identified him as al-Hajj Muhammad Tafsir of Borno AND Katsina. His mother was an infant during the pilgrimage of her father, and the pilgrimage to Mecca would have left Naghodi and her mother in Gazargamo for an extended period of time. This makes one think her maternal grandfather may have been a native of Gazargamo and perhaps from a large household with dependents, relatives, and economic means to support his children while abroad. Moreover, the inclusion of tafsir in his name points to a scholar with a background in Quranic exegesis. Furthermore, the fact that he went on the hajj at least once would have significantly increased his standing in Borno. Indeed, those who went on the hajj were even absolved of taxes by the Sayfawa rulers of Borno. Consequently, Muhammad Tafsir must have been of means, respected in Borno and Katsina, as well as someone who benefitted from the privileges of the hajj through tax incentives that Mai Ali maintained. Even if he was a Hausa or Fulani from Katsina, performing the hajj undoubtedly aided his business or trading concerns in Borno and beyond.

So, how exactly did al-Siddiq's father, Kara Musa, meet Naghodi? According to al-Siddiq, his father traveled to Katsina and Borno frequently, likely as a trader. A man from a reputable lineage in Timbuktu and the Middle Niger was likely an attractive prospect for al-Hajj Muhammad Tafsir's daughter. Both men were probably traders, and the marriage of Naghodi to Kara Musa would have helped cement trading ties between them. One can surmise that Kara Musa was older than Naghodi and may have already possessed trade connections to Kong and sources of gold and kola nuts through his connections to Dyula trading and scholarly networks. Perhaps a marriage helped ensure honest dealings or trading partnership between Naghodi's father and Kara Musa? Evidence in favor of this can be found in al-Siddiq's allusion to his father sending gold, Egyptian silks, horses, mules, and other goods to his father-in-law. 

This may have been initially part of a dowry, but his father's past of "always" traveling to Katsina and Borno hints at trade in goods, such as gold, motivating his travels from Jenne to Kong, Ghonah, and, eventually Katsina and Gazargamo. Evidence for traders from the Fezzan, Hausaland, and Borno knowing of Kong, Bouna, Dagomba, and the "Gold Coast" can be found in other sources, but the Dyula networks of Kara Musa would have been an excellent network for Hausa and Kanuri traders from the east to tap into for opening up relations with that part of West Africa. Perhaps Kara Musa's network and access to gold (and the possibility of kola nuts) intersected with Muhammad Tafsir's connections to Borno's salt and natron exports to Hausa cities?

Our other references to Hausaland or the 'Central Sudan" in the context of Abu Siddiq are more problematic or impressionistic. John Davidson's Notes Taken During Travels in Africa reports confirmation for al-Siddiq's illustrious pedigree in Morocco and the Sahara. Other informants even claim al-Siddiq was related to the rulers of Timbuktu, Kong, and "Houssa," which must be Katsina or a generalized Hausaland. While one can surmise from the earlier autobiographical fragments that al-Siddiq came from a respectable family with roots in the ulama of Timbuktu and Jenne, the grandiose relations attributed to him may not reflect the realities of post-jihadist West Africa. For example, Borno's capital was destroyed and abandoned by the time al-Siddiq returned to West Africa via Morocco. Katsina was also in a period of decline. The Sokoto Caliphate changed the political map of the "Central Sudan" and al-Siddiq would have been in the dark for about 30 years during these momentous decades. Nevertheless, one can see that several years after his bondage in Jamaica, al-Siddiq could still believably call upon powerful and politically connected relatives in Timbuktu, Kong, and Hausaland. This illustrates just how overlapping the worlds of Islam, "Sudanic" Africa, and the Atlantic were.

Bibliography

Abú Bekr eṣ ṣiddíḳ. “Routes in North Africa, by Abú Bekr Eṣ Ṣiddíḳ.” The Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London 6 (1836): 100–113. https://doi.org/10.2307/1797559.

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.

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

Curtin, Philip D. Africa Remembered; Narratives by West Africans from the Era of the Slave Trade. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1967.

Davidson, John. Notes Taken During Travels in Africa. London: J.L. Cox and Sons, 1839.

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

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

Lovejoy, Paul E. “The Kambarin Beriberi: The Formation of a Specialized Group of Hausa Kola Traders in the Nineteenth Century.” The Journal of African History 14, no. 4 (1973): 633–51. http://www.jstor.org/stable/180905.

Lucas, Paul, Lédyard, John, Lallemant, Antoine J. (trans.), Voyages de MM. Lédyard et Lucas en Afrique, entrepris et publiés par ordre de la Société anglaise d’Afrique ; avec le plan de fondation de cette Société, et une carte du nord de l’Afrique, par le major Rennel : suivis d’extraits de Voyages faits à la rivière de Gambie, par ordre de la Compagnie anglaise d’Afrique, et d’un mémoire écrit sous le règne de Charles II, concernant la grande quantité d’or qu’on trouve près de cette rivière ; avec une carte de ce fleuve et de ses environs, tracée sur les lieux. Paris: Xhrouet, 1804.

Wilks, Ivor. The Northern Factor in Ashanti History. [Legon]: Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana, 1961.

The Tuareg and Islam in the Sahel

Due to this blog's current obsession with Kanem-Borno, we have been reading studies of other parts of the Sahel and "Sudanic" Africa. Looking at Kanem-Borno in its larger regional context can shed light on our area of interest, and lead to other sources and ideas. Nonetheless, we were disappointed by Norris's The Tuaregs. While it definitely could have used better editing, the main problem is the paucity of sources for earlier eras, such as Tadamakkat, and the author's reliance on significantly later oral traditions or excerpts from Tuareg intellectuals and writers of the 19th and 20th centuries. 

Norris has done a favor for the rest of us by translating excerpts from several of these lesser known works by local authors, but the overall narrative on Islam among the Tuareg of the Sahel is disjointed and perhaps weakened by so much speculation. To his credit, he translated some of the same material from Agadez used by Yves Urvoy, so Anglophone readers do not have to rely solely on Urvoy's French translation of the Agadez Chronicles. One also gains deeper insights on the relationship between Tuareg Ineslemen and their counterparts among other groups, such as the Arabic-speaking Moors, the Kunta, and, perhaps, Hausa and Fulani Muslim reformers like Muhammad Bello. 

Unfortunately, one cannot help but think a book of this nature could benefit from a rewrite that incorporates data from archaeological excavations at sites like Tadamakkat and the epigraphic sources studied by Moraes de Farias. Some of these more recently uncovered or analyzed types of data could shed light on the nature of Tuareg and Sahelian Berber Muslim communities in the late first millennium, as well as their relationship with kingdoms and cities to the south (Gao, for instance). The younger scholarship seems to adopt a more critical stance with regard to chronicles like those of Agadez, too. 

Ahmad Baba of Timbuktu

We truly wish Mahmoud A. Zouber's Ahmad Baba de Tombouctou (1556-1627), sa vie et son oeuvre was available in English translation. Zouber's work appears to be the best general overview of one of the best-known West African Islamic scholars of the precolonial era, based on his own works, the references from his disciples and contemporaries and the established modern scholarship. Although one wishes there was a deeper analysis of more than 8 of what Zouber considers Baba's most important, representative works, he undoubtedly succeeds in portraying the life of a Timbuktu scholar whose family were a key part of the Timbuktu intellectual scene. 

And yes, to a certain extent, the hyperbole surrounding the scholastic achievements and reputation of Timbuktu compared to the rest of the Muslim World finds some justification in the respected position of Baba during his Moroccan exile. That he was able to teach prominent Moroccan scholars and be taken as an equal attests to, at least in his case, the exemplary level of Islamic instruction achieved by some at Timbuktu and probably Jenne and other cities in the Western Sudan. Certainly, Ahmad Baba's principal teachers in Timbuktu, such as Muhammad Baghayogho, would have likely been perceived as excellent scholars if they had lived in Morocco. In light of this, Zouber suggests Timbuktu's comparable standing to other centers of Islamic learning like North Africa and Egypt but carefully avoids any firm conclusion on the question. After all, it was during his period in Morocco that Baba was most prolific, perhaps attesting to the greater availability of books in Marrakech and, though we cannot prove it, a more stimulating environment for intellectual production than the declining Songhay Empire?

In addition, Zouber's study dispels some of the myths and assumptions about Baba. For instance, the assumption that he was "black" or identified as such (despite one of his students in Morocco asserting he was not "black"), although Zouber pushes a strong patriotic or "national" identity based in the region of the Western Sudan on the part of Baba against the Moroccan invasion. Moreover, though only focusing specifically on 8 of the 56 works attributed to Baba, Zouber establishes the main areas of study he specialized in: grammar, fiqh, biography, morality, theology, history, and fatwas. Clearly, the Islamic sciences occupied most of his attention and to truly understand him or the intellectual scene in Timbuktu under Songhay rule requires some comprehension of Islamic learning and the connections with Egypt, the Maghreb, and earlier Islamic literature. 

But to know that several of Baba's works survived and his education in Timbuktu might shed light on comparable methods of education and curriculum for those of us interested in Hausaland and Borno during the same period. Perhaps, to a certain extent, Ahmad Baba's "Sudanese" upbringing and education can tell us something about Muslim writers from the same era in other parts of West, possibly revealing some of their shared concerns (like questions from Touat and North Africans about emerging discourses of "racialized" West Africans and the widespread illegal enslavement of Muslim West Africans). Perhaps, though Baba was critical of Idris Alooma, one can see possible influences of Timbuktu in the Birni Gazargamo of Ahmad b. Furtu in Borno and vice versa through the confluence of Songhay and Borno influence in Hausaland and Air.

Tarikh al-Sudan

Due to our recent readings of Redhouse's dated English translations of two chronicles by the imam Ahmad Ibn Furtu or Borno, we at the blog have decided to tackle Hunwick's translation of the chronicle Tarikh al-Sudan by Abd al-Rahman al-Sa'di. Unfortunately, Hunwick did not translate the entirety of the chronicle written by our Timbuktu author, skipping 2 chapters on Moroccan politics and later chapters on events after 1613, with the pasha administration and post-Songhay Middle Niger politics. That era, after 1613, when effective Songhay resistance was largely over and fewer large-scale empires operated in the "Western Sudan",  was for obvious reasons quite distinct from the "imperial" era of Songhay, Mali, or Ghana. 

As the general narrative of the Songhay Empire or the Western Sudan owes so much to al-Sadi and the Tarikh al-Fattash, reading this chronicle was basically an exercise in seeing how so many historians and documentarians have borrowed this or that idea, characterization, or plot point in their depiction of Songhay rulers like Askia Muhammad or Sunni Ali. We have read select chapters of the two surviving Timbuktu chronicles in the past, for our earlier projects on Ghana and pre-imperial Songhay history, so the early chapters were nothing new. As recent scholarship has shown, an overreliance on the Timbuktu tarikhs is problematic, as the authors had various political, ideological, and religious motives at play, and were relying on oral traditions for much of the earlier history of their region. For instance, today's scholars have called into question the idea of Ali Kulun and the Sunni dynasty of Songhay rulers, pointing to the alarming parallels with Tuareg oral traditions and folklore. Mande, Berber, Songhay, and Islamic influences intersect and shaped how Timbuktu chroniclers like al-Sadi perceived the Middle Niger and the "land of the Blacks" in surprising ways, and not always in what modern secular readers considered to be historically accurate style or methodology. 

Thus, one must use these sources very carefully while also coming to see something of the interplay or oral and written traditions in West African literature. One can read these chronicles and see commonality with the oral epics of Sunjata, or the oral epics of the Bamana people of Segu. For al-Sadi and his audience, chronicling the great past of his region while endeavoring to avoid offending the Pasha administration relied on portraying the later Songhay Askia dynasts as corrupt and decadent, yet celebrating the security, Islamic scholarship, and cosmopolitan ties of Timbuktu and Jenne in the Songhay Golden Age (scholars who traveled to Mecca, Egypt, North Africa or corresponded with illustrious figures from Cairo). Moreover, while the author was of "Berber" descent, he also mentions a Fulani ancestor, and probably possessed other West African non-Berber forebears. Clearly, he was a man of Timbuktu and identified with the region and its peoples, and Islamic devotion filtered the lens through which he viewed West Africa. In that respect, he resembled Ahmad Ibn Furtu, the chief imam of the mosque in Borno's capital during the reign of Idris Alooma. Like Ibn Furtu, his historical chronicle sought to stress the proper and just Islamic devotion of his class and preferred rulers. For al-Sadi, this seems to have been Askia Muhammad I and Askia Dawud, and one of course must question the portrayal of these rulers in the chronicles. 

It is also clear that the text pointed to the corruption and in-fighting among various siblings and cousins of the Askia royal family over the course of the 16th century as a cause for the empire's decline and relatively quick fall to the invading forces of Morocco. How the Songhay went from being able to raid Moroccan territory in the Dar'a Valley under Askia Dawud to being quickly routed by a relatively small Moroccan force armed with muskets in 1591 is difficult to conceive. Unless the Songhay state was already weakened by problems with succession that weakened its ability to maintain central authority and military capacity, muskets should not have been enough to topple Songhay. Unfortunately, al-Sadi has little to say about the slaves, artisans, and laborers, and little to say about the influence of women among the Songhay. The so-called subaltern groups were probably not seen by al-Sadi as significant historical actors, but glimpses of their role in the economy, political conflict, and marriage alliances of the Songhay rulers clearly emerge. Artisans, such as tailors and shoemakers, hardly appear in chronicle, despite the several workshops in Timbuktu run by tailors who were sometimes scholars themselves. We learn they had a quarter in Gao, created by Askia Dawud, which may also be a veiled reference to artisans as a casted group.