Hausa Influences in Oyo

Whilst perusing Samuel Johnson's History of the Yorubas, one notices multiple examples of Hausa influence in the Oyo state. Even when referring to the mythical or semi-legendary rulers like Sango, examples of this Hausa or northern presence can be detected in Yoruba historical tradition. For example, one of the Yoruba legends of origin traces the people's descent from Lamurudu of Mecca. This figure was said to have been the father of Oduduwa as well as two kings of Gogobiri and Kukawa in the Hausa region (3). Kukawa may mean Borno. Even the (legendary) Sango was said to have had a Hausa slave, too (149).

Some titles used in the Oyo government were also words of Hausa origin. Take the Magaji, for instance. This title was said by Johnson to go to the heir of a great estate, usually the eldest son of that family. The alafin of Oyo's court also included an official called the Magaji Iyajin. He functioned as an official "elder brother" who defended the interests of the king (69). Well, magaji in Hausa means heir or successor, according to An English-Hausa Dictionary. Another word of Hausa origin used by Oyo's government was the seriki, derived from the Hausa word for king. According to Johnson, the seriki was an military leader who was comparable to the Balogun but more for the young warriors. A successful seriki could even succeed the Balogun (133).

Some of the specific trumpets and instruments associated with kingship also came from the Hausa or via Nupe peoples. The kakaki and ivory trumpets were only used for the king (121). Johnson also referred to a cymbol (aro) or the Bembe drum as instruments introduced by the Hausa. The use of these instruments may have been through the Nupe as an intermediary, but it demonstrates how the northern peoples exerted a significant influence on Oyo.

As noted by various scholars, such as Adamu in The Hausa Factor in West African History, Hausa captives and artisans were also a significant presence. Hausa captives were the main labor force for taking care of the cattle owned by the chiefs. In addition, Hausa and Fulani peoples were often the barbers and ropemakers in Oyo (123). Hausa traders were also a familiar presence long before the 19th century. One of them, named Alaja-eta by Johnson, had his goods seized in Oyo until Aole, the alafin, ordered them returned. The failure to return the Hausa merchant's Koran contributed to the political tensions of Aole's reign after the zenith of Abiodun (190). Later, the Hausa slaves in Oyo joined Afonja as soldiers for Ilorin, but that development is better known or documented.

Overall, the Hausa influences in Oyo seem to be of a much deeper antiquity than we initially thought. While much of it was likely indirect through Nupe and Bariba peoples, the actual Hausa presence in Oyo was clear. And it was not restricted to slaves and Hausa or Fulani-oriented crafts and trades. It even included titles and political offices that used words of Hausa origin. Some were said to marry with the elite of the Oyo kingdom. Thus, Abiodun, remembered in tradition as one of the greatest kings of the Oyo Empire, married his daughter to a Muslim who had secretly harbored a son of Gaha for several years (186)! According to Johnson, Abiodun was previously a trader in potash before ascending the throne and defeating Gaha (187). Is it possible the potash trade increased Abiodun's dealings with Muslim traders from Hausa land and the north? 

Nago (Yoruba) Legacy in Haiti

Milo Rigaud's La tradition voudoo et le voudoo haitien includes this beautiful veve for Ogou Batala.

The Yoruba legacy in Haiti survives in some rather influential ways. For instance, Haitian Rara music appears to be at least partly influenced by the Yoruba. According to J.B. Romain's Africanismes haïtiens, the word rara is likely derived from Yoruba. Although it is culturally a fusion of different elements, the use of a name derived from the Yoruba language attests to the presence of Yoruba speakers among the enslaved. In addition, the "Nago" are remembered and some of their orishas are honored in Haitian Vodou tradition. In fact, some Haitians still used the name Nago as a family name well into the 19th century. This important legacy suggests the Nago were remembered in Haitian tradition for far more than facial scarification on their cheeks or a penchant for stealing, as Malenfant described them in the 18th century. 

Milo Marcelin's Mythologie Vodou includes many examples of songs alluding to the Nago spirits. 

In Milo Marcelin's Mythologie Vodou (Rite Arada), numerous allusions to the Nago and Nago-derived lwa can be found. The Nago orishas are often subsumed in the category of Ogou (Ogun to the Yoruba), in various manifestations or forms. Thus, some, like Ogou Chango, are clearly a reference to Shango. Others, like Ogou Olicha, appears to be an allusion to a lwa whose name includes the word orisha. Considering the military leadership and skill needed for Haitian independence to materialize, one can imagine Ogou was a major lwa for many in Haiti.

Hector Hyppolite's Ogoun Chango.

Additional Ogous whose names refer to the Nago are Ogou Feraille, Batala (Obatala), Ogou Badagri, Olisha, and Ossange. Badagri, whose very name refers to the slave trade port of Badagry, is hardly a surprise as a Nago divinity. Batala is undoubtedly derived from Obatala of Yoruba tradition, while Ossange, a healer, is Osanyin. Unsurprisingly, the Nago appear to be associated with war, military prowess, and iron in Haitian tradition. Such a reputation can be seen in the role of Nago war leaders during the Haitian Revolution, such as Halaou and Gracia Lafortune. Yet Marcelin also reported that the Nago lwa Ogou Badagri was the father of the Haitian "mulatto." We are not sure if this association with "mulattoes" may be an allusion to mixed-race generals and military leaders during the Haitian Revolution. 

Thoughts on the Nago (Yoruba) in Saint Domingue

We have been revisiting the few sources on the Nago, or "Yoruba" captives in Saint Domingue. Runaway ads or notices in the colonial newspaper have severe limitations as sources, but they nonetheless provide some details about Africans of Yoruba extraction in the colony. For instance, Adidon, mentioned in the runaway ad above, appears to have a Yoruba name. Adidon could be the Yoruba term for sweatmeats and confectionery. 

Another interesting example from the corpus of runaway slave ads in Saint-Domingue is the case of the Bambara above who spoke Nago. Considering the distance between Yorubaland and the "Bambara" lands of Upper Guinea, one assumes this unnamed "Bambara" captive learned the "Nago" tongue in Saint Domingue. 

Also intriguing is the case of a Nago runaway in 1783 named Sola, also called Ambroise. Sola is likely the Yoruba name Ṣọlá. Although it has long been known that the Nago were from Yoruba-speaking backgrounds, it is still fascinating to see examples of names from that language among Africans in Saint Domingue.

We similarly found the case of a Nago runaway from 1777, Aboky, intriguing. The name Aboky could actually be related to the Hausa word, aboki, meaning friend. If so, one wonders if Aboky actually was Hausa or from the lands north of the Yoruba-speaking peoples. It also appears that most Hausa captives trafficked to Saint Domingue in the 18th century arrived via Slave Coast ports and likely passed through Oyo and other Yoruba-speaking communities before reaching the coast. Perhaps not unrelated, modern Nigerians in the south sometimes use the word aboki in a derogatory fashion when referring to northerners.

Yet another ambiguous case of a "Nago" is the Nago-Taqua, Hector. Taqua appears to have been one of the terms used for Nupe peoples in Saint-Domingue. Was Hector of mixed ethnicity, both Nupe and Yoruba? Or was he a Nupe person who had spent time in Yorubaland before being sold on the coast to Europeans?

Yet another runaway ad alluding to a Nago with what sounds like an African name is the case of Labidan. No obvious Yoruba name comes to mind with Labidan. In fact, there was a kingdom called Labidan on the Gold Coast, an area French slave traders sometimes extended to the Slave Coast.

Our final case of one of the interesting African maroons who was said to speak Nago despite hailing from another "nation" is Medor. Supposedly Ibo, he appears to have been owned by a Rossignol of the Gonaives area. Did he learn Nago in Saint Domingue?

Last, but certainly not least, visiting ANOM's digitized parish registries for Saint-Domingue reminded us of Julien Raimond. His African grandmother, who died in 1761, was of the Nago nation. It is somewhat unclear if her name was actually Marie or Catherine (or perhaps Marie Catherine?), but she married Raimond's grandfather, Francois Begasse, in 1706. To what extent, if any, she shaped the upbringing of her grandchildren is unknown, but her status and the growing wealth of her family in Bainet and Aquin may have made her one of the wealthiest African-born women in this part of Saint Domingue.

Estimating the Nago Presence in Saint-Domingue

One very rough method of estimating the possible Yoruba imports in Saint-Domingue is to combine estimates and data from Manning, Geggus, and other sources. Manning, whose study of the slave trade in Dahomey was a major source used by us for another group, has provided us some rough estimates for the ethnic origin of Slave Coast exports in the period from 1641-1870. Using his estimates for the period 1641-1800, we calculated that about 10.35% of the total exports were of Yoruba captives. If one applies this estimate of 10.35% to David Geggus's data on Bight of Benin imports in Saint-Domingue, one reaches the figure of around 16327 "Nago" captives. Intriguingly, Geggus's own dataset of 13,334 slaves from 1721-1797 included 1580 Nago captives. That makes them about 11.85% of the slave population in that particular dataset. But applying that percentage to the total estimated slave imports would wield an unreasonably high number,  about 71,077. 

When checking the Slave Voyages site on the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, one finds different numbers. For the period from 1709-1792, the data gives us a total of 185,248 captives brought to Saint Domingue from the Bight of Benin. If one uses Manning's data for a general estimate of 10.35%, then perhaps 19173 Yoruba were brought to the colony of Saint Domingue in the 18th century. This is higher than our earlier estimate of 16327 but still plausible. It also seems likely that in the later decades of the 18th century, the Nago presence among the African-born population was proportionally greater or more conspicuous. Nonetheless, it is likely that the numbers of Nago captives brought to the colony were perhaps anywhere from 16327 to 19173. Using the latter high, one might suggest the "Nago" were nearly 3.2% of the total imported into the island on French ships. The number was likely higher since smuggled captives were not considered and the data isn't as reliable as it should be. 

Sakara Music

Sakara music recorded in Benin in the 1950s. The singing is quite engaging while the insistent rhythm of the drums and the droning stringed-instrument or violin make this quite the alluring song. According to Wikipedia, this genre of music among the Yoruba has Islamic influences, and the goje instrument used in it has some resemblance to similar instruments among West African cultures of the Sahel.

Nupe in Saint Domingue

 

The Nupe, known in Saint Domingue as Tapa or Taqua, the former derived from a Yoruba appellation for them, also had a presence there before the 1770s. The above example, from the corpus of runaway notices on this excellent site, indicates that by 1766, an enslaved Nupe (or Atapa) man, Jupiter, had run away. This early appearance of the Nupe coincides with the appearance of a Gambery (Gambary) maroon the same year. While we need to find evidence of Nupe and Hausa in Saint Domingue from earlier plantation records and sales, this does suggest that people from areas north of Oyo were being sold along the Slave Coast. In small numbers, yes, and still referred to by the label known via Yoruba-speakers, but illustrative of how the slave trading network of Oyo intersected with both the Atlantic and the northern regions. Oyo, in exchange for horses, slaves and other goods, was an intermediary the Nupe and Hausa to the north would have engaged with for access to European goods from the coast (although European products were also crossing the Sahara via the trans-Saharan trade routes). 

What is particularly interesting about the Nupe in Saint-Domingue is the mention of "Nago-Taqua" captives in 1773 and 1778 in the runaway slave ads posted in Affiches américaines. Bringing to mind the pattern in 19th century Cuba where Lucumi-Jausa, Lucumi-Tapa and other combinations appear in the archive, this almost certainly reflects the centuries-long interactions between Nupe and Yoruba groups. It could also reflect, perhaps, a Nupe person who had been enslaved in Oyo for some length of time before being sold on the coast. It makes one wonder if some of the people categorized as being of the "Nago" nation in Saint Domingue may have been of Nupe, Bariba or Hausa origins.

Dahomey and Its Neighbors

Akinjogbin's Dahomey and Its Neighbors, 1708-1818 is one of the classic studies of the kingdom of Dahomey during a pivotal century in its development. Although Akinjogbin's Ebi theory of Yoruba and Aja polities appears to be untenable, or at least lacking sufficient evidence to be demonstrated fully, the rise of Dahomey as a major power in the Slave Coast region is certainly a topic worthy of analysis. Akinjogbin, who misleadingly presents early Dahomey and Agaja as opponents of the slave trade, or at least its destructive impact on Aja polities like Allada and Whydah in the 17th century, posits that Dahomey achieved an administrative revolution by replacing the Ebi theory for a more centralized, absolute monarchy in which the monarchy endeavored to control the slave trade. Indeed, Dahomey no longer resembled the Yoruba and Aja states of old and was better able to survive the 19th century than Oyo because of it.

However, in terms of economics, Dahomey became wedded to the slave trade and compromised the state's health. Factors in Europe, for instance, or the shifting interests of Oyo in terms of providing the supply of captives for export at Whydah, posed a number of problems for 18th century Dahomey kings. Oyo, under Abiodun, emphasizing Porto Novo as its primary port on the Atlantic, for example, contributed to the economic woes and depression of Dahomey. Dahomey was also not always effective at promoting Whydah as the major port on the Slave Coast. Competition from Badagry, Porto Novo and other ports, combined with the inability of Dahomey to defend Whydah from the old Whydah forces threatened the security of the port and its ability to attract Europeans. Dahomey was also, at least during the reign of Agaja's son, not effective at slave raiding. In short, Dahomey had to rely on Oyo to supply captives for export through Whydah and it had to rely on the vicissitudes of European and Atlantic World commerce and slaving. Some rulers, however, were progressive and thought of other ideas and practices, or even reviving agriculture to promote Dahomey's economy and end the long-lasting depression that began in the 1760s. By then, it was too late as the dependence on the slave trade remained the only option for Dahomey to retain access to Europe.

Despite the economic failings of 18th century Dahomey, Akinjogbin presents Aganja, Tegbesu, Kpengla, and Agonglo as visionary, progressive, rational and skilled leaders and administrators. Indeed, the survival of the Dahomey state during this century is impressive when one considers the weakness of the state militarily or its internal conflicts. In that sense, Oyo's overlordship may have paradoxically created the conditions for Dahomey to consolidate its administrative and economic basis after Agaja's rapid conquests of Allada and Whydah. Oyo and the Europeans on the coast could cause problems, but having Oyo provide some degree of security for its vassals and supplying slaves for export at Whydah, Dahomey's port, created favorable conditions for Dahomey to reestablish itself on a firm footing after 1740. To what extent Dahomey truly achieved a "revolution" can only be answered with deeper knowedge of Allada, Whydah, and Oyo as states.

Song for Ogun

A lovely tribute to Ogun, our orisha, from the legendary John Coltrane. Coltrane appears to have based his arrangement of the song on a version harmonized by a Brazilian composer and sung by Bidu Sayão. One can also find a Cuban group performing the song in 1957 with what appears to be different lyrics in Lucumi (Yoruba). Ogun arrives, chief of Ire. I vaguely recall once finding a recording of the same song (or a variation of it) from Dahomey (modern Benin) but was unable to locate it. Fortunately, Yoruba speakers have sought to enlighten us with the actual meaning of the song in its Cuban incarnations. 

Robin Law's Oyo Empire

Robin Law's The Ọyọ Empire, c.1600-c.1836: a West African imperialism in the era of the Atlantic slave trade was one of those important studies of a major West African polity that we found difficult to read a year ago. We believed it was relying too heavily on fragmentary traditions and hearsay that entered into the contemporary European sources to be sufficiently accurate. However, since it was published in the 1970s and of course relied heavily on local oral traditions in addition to classic studies by Yoruba authors like Johnson, we decided to revisit Law's book. As he himself admitted, his study relied on limited sources and some of its conclusions will hopefully be advanced or rebutted by subsequent scholarship. Nonetheless, as one would expect from a meticulous like Law who has written extensively on the Slave Coast, his study of the Oyo Empire during the same era endeavors to contextualize Oyo's expansion in the era of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. 

Oyo, as major supplier of captives to the ports of the Slave Coast, was, however, a hinterland kingdom based on a cavalry force. This cavalry, supplied from the north, meant Oyo was deeply connected to Nupe, Bariba, and even Hausaland and Borno for horses, equipment, and goods acquired through trans-Saharan trade. Thus, Oyo provides an interesting example of an Atlantic trading state (which for a time commanded tribute from Porto Novo, Badagry, Allada and Dahomey) which also had close ties to the savanna states to the north. Indeed, the mention of "Yoruba" slaves by Timbuktu scholar Ahmad Baba and the trade in horses and slaves between Kano and the Nupe must have brought the Oyo Yoruba into contact with Muslim Sudanic West African traders by the 16th century. After a period of Bariba and Nupe rule, a resurgent Oyo was able, by the 1600s, able to expand and use its own cavalry to assert itself effectively in savanna territories around Oyo (and the southwest). Even some hilly areas or regions with politically fragmented Yoruba fell under Oyo rule, through a combination of Oyo colonists and military force. Gradually, Oyo was able to profit from both the Atlantic trade via the coast as well as the northern trade routes that linked it to the Sudanic regions. 

Instead of providing captives to the north in exchange for horses, like in its earlier period of growth, Oyo was able to trade cowries and European goods for horses from northern suppliers. Indeed, by the late 18th century, with access to the coast through ports like Porto Novo, Oyo was likely a major supplier of Hausa and northern slaves to the Atlantic trade. Oyo's own textile industry and far-ranging traders also continued to prosper, seeming to avoid any negative internal impact of the slave trade (such as insecurity) until its later years of decline. Indeed, Oyo may have benefitted from a more monetized economy stimulated by trade, cowries, textiles, foodstuffs produced for traders (and captives) and redistributed imported European goods or silks, natron and leather goods from the north. Oyo, like Dahomey and Asante, appears to have been able to combine imperial expansion and Atlantic slave trade to become wealthier states. Unfortunately for Oyo, however, political centralization did not reach the level of Benin, Dahomey or Asante. The alafins of Oyo were never able to completely subdue the powerful Oyo Mesi and the Basorun, who controlled the capital's army. Instead, the alafins of Oyo had to rely on palace slaves and officials they appointed to oversee provinces, collect tribute, and command the provincial army to expand the state and increase their own power. 

However, after Basorun Gaha seized power in the middle of the 18th century, Abiodun was only able to restore the alafin to effective authority through an alliance with the head of the provincial army. This, however, led to further problems with the coup d'etat against Awole in c.1796, when the head of the provincial army decided to rebel against Awole. This, followed by Afonja inciting a Muslim rebellion and further conflict between provincial leaders against an Alafin who could accumulate too much power, paved the way for Oyo's eventual collapse. Oyo, according to Law, was thus unable to attain a comparable degree of centralization to that of Benin, Dahomey and Asante. Whether or not it was really due to the reliance on cavalry for the military (the costs of maintenance for imported horses being too costly for kings alone to finance), Law appears to be correct in noting the lack of adequate centralization to ensure imperial stability. Consequently, after reaching perhaps its imperial and slave trading peak in the 1780s, Oyo declined afterwards as Afonja and the repercussions of Uthman dan Fodio's jihad destroyed Oyo. 

What we find interesting about Oyo is in its role as an imperial middleman between the Sudanic states and the Atlantic. Horses from the north, captives and luxuries acquired through the trans-Saharan trade were sold in Oyo just as European products and cowries circulated north. Oyo, through its reliance on cavalry, may have lacked the degree of centralization of Borno (despite a similar "fief" system of allocating tribute rights) since it had to incur the costs of importing horses and maintenance. Oyo, nonetheless, appears to have faced limitations on its expansion as the forested southern Yorubaland territories were able to resist cavalry. Northern expansion was thwarted by the Nupe and Bariba states who possessed easier access to horses, even if Oyo did succeed in imposing tribute on southern Nupe and Bariba states. Even Oyo expansion to the southwest, for access to the coast through Dahomey and Porto Novo, was likewise limited by the rainy season that made it difficult to permanently retain control over the area. In conclusion, Oyo may have been more restricted than some of its northern, cavalry-based trading partners due to the geographic and climate factors in Lower Guinea. Perhaps these checks imposed on Oyo expansion contributed to the weakening of centralization? If, perhaps, an interior kingdom with access to horses had been able to permanently conquer and administer Dahomey and Porto Novo, unhindered access to Atlantic trade and ongoing northern economic exchange may have stimulated a more centralized Oyo with effective use of firearms?

Oyo Empire

Despite some video quality troubles and a few errors, this short lecture by Paul Lovejoy is well worth the listen. Oyo was a northern Yoruba state with a cavalry and links to the Nupe, Bariba and Hausaland. Ali Eisami was also enslaved in Oyo so the state was connected to Borno via trade and the slave trade. I just wish we had more sources on the history of this fascinating Yoruba empire. Robin Law's monograph endeavored to make do with the fragmentary oral traditions, limited external sources and later Yoruba histories of the post-imperial Oyo years. What he accomplished was quite impressive for reconstructing the political, economic, social, and administrative features of Oyo, but it all seems so speculative.