The Bornocentric World

We here at the blog cannot recommend a book more passionately than Du lac Tchad à La Mecque by Rémi Dewière. Using primarily the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu, a French captive's writings on Borno who was enslaved in Tripoli in the 17th century, plus a variety of other local and external sources on on Borno, Dewière's study shows what can be accomplished with new theoretical models that reconsider our unfortunately limited primary source materials. By situating Borno in a Braudelian Sahara and trans-Sahelian context, one can gain new insights into the nature of the Borno sultanate's development as the dominant power in the "Central Sudan" and Lake Chad Basin. The text introduces us to the geography, climate, ecology, seasonal nature of trans-Saharan trade, shifts in Islamic practice and shifting legitimating ideologies of the Sefuwa dynasty to elucidate how Borno's rulers from the 1500s to early 1700s engaged with the wider world. Naturally, much of the story here focuses on Idris Alooma and successors like Ali ibn Umar in the 17th century, but the analysis encompasses earlier and later moments in the long-lived Sefuwa house. 

Most significantly for us, the analysis includes Borno's relations with lands further east, connecting "Sudanic" Africa from the Senegal River to the Red Sea. Of course, much more work remains to be done by archaeologists and historians eager to explore this topic, but this important book on Borno at its apogee includes some theories on the nature of trade and cultural exchange between Borno and lands further east, such as the Funj Sultanate and Ethiopia. While the "Sudanic" pilgrim route was probably already in practice by the later period encompassed in the study, we hoped there would be additional sources that could shed light on this intriguing dilemma. For such an approach, however, one would probably have to contextualize the history of Kanem, Bagirmi, Wadai, Darfur and the Kordan from 1500-1710. So, a future book awaits researchers eager to connect the entirety of the "Bilad al-Sudan" and center this "Sudanic" context for the history of Africa. The primary obstacle would be the paucity of surviving records to illuminate this, since the external Arabic sources usually prioritize trans-Saharan over trans-Sahelian contacts. Either way, the oral traditions referenced in the study suggest Kanem-Borno played a key role as a brigde between the Eastern and Western "Sudan," with villages in Darfur believed to have been established by people from Borno. Indeed, the Banī Dāwud of the Sefuwa dynasty may have settled there after the dynastic squabbles in the 15th century, if oral traditions can be reliable here. 

While we still wish something akin to Dewière was applied to the Sefuwa dynasty's earlier Kanem period, one must accept the limitation of the sources and hope for archaeology to shed light on early Kanem and its role in the premodern world. We here, through our own speculative reading of the external Arabic sources on Kanem and Nubia, tend to think migrations and trade between the Eastern and Western "Sudan" was already in place. Kanem may very well have already been the dominant cultural and political influence in the lands between Lake Chad and the Nile through the "Zaghawa" and the "Taju." Perhaps later polities like Uri, Wadai, and Darfur (and its previous dynasties) reflect an earlier influence from Kanem that intersected with Christian Nubia. Perhaps, for all we know, the Sefuwa rulers in Borno were continuing the political and cultural agenda of their forebears.

Funj Chronicle

Although far from ideal, we decided to read a public domain English translation of the Funj Chronicle. Based on a recension of the text from the personal library of a descendant of the Funj kings, Harold MacMichael included an English translation of most of the text in the second volume of A History of the Arabs in the Sudan and Some Account of the People who Preceded Them and of the Tribes Inhabiting Dárfūr. While perhaps generally accurate and reliable as a chronology of the Funj Sultanate, it's a text that is far more detailed and updated for the 19th century than earlier periods. For many Funj rulers in the 1500s and 1600s, we only read brief descriptions of their character or events that took place. Some of them are more detailed than others, of course. Badi II, Amara Dunqas, Badi IV, and certain political conflicts between different sheiks during the Hamaj Regency period receive more than the casual or limited summaries of other rulers of the Funj. 

So, it is interesting to compare the Funj Chronicle with other "Sudanic" kinglists and chronicle writings as an example of historical literature. While far from the Timbuktu Tarikhs in terms of the grand scope and level of detail, one can see overlapping traits with the chronicle writings of Agadez, Borno, Kano, and perhaps a combination of the kinglist and chronicle in a single work. The fuller entries in the Funj Chronicle probably draw on written sources that have not survived, particularly as Islamization of the Funj state grew in the 17th and 18th centuries, but the essential kernel of it probably arose from traditions like the kinglist shared with James Bruce during his travels through the region. Nonetheless, it is fascinating to observe the combination of textual and oral sources in the document, while also tracking the association of Islamic piety and Funj statecraft with proper governance. In that regard, it is probably not too distinct from the other chronicles produced by Muslim scholars extolling the Islamic virtues and support for scholarship of their respective sultans. Like the Timbuktu tarikhs, the author(s) of the Funj Chronicle seem to have continued their idealized vision of a ruler of the Nubian region well into the post-1821 era. 

But for our other purposes here at the blog, we are interested in ways to contextualize the Funj Sultanate within "Sudanic" Africa and the early modern world. Here one can find examples of this in Funj relations with Darfur, Kordofan, Teqali, Ethiopia, and, beyond Africa, the Ottoman Empire, central Muslim lands, and India. For example, Sennar clearly engaged in long-distance trade with other parts of Africa, including lands to the west like Kordofan and Darfur. Khamis, a prince of Darfur, but based in the Funj state in the 1700s, assists the sultanate in defeating an Ethiopian invasion by Iyasu II. Supposedly, if the Funj sources are not exaggerating, their Muslim victory led to various foreign embassies coming to Sennar, including those of al-Hind and al-Sind. Foreigners from as far away as Morocco were said to settle in Sennar. We also learn of Sennar's attack non Teqali under Badi II because the Teqali ruler attacked and stole the goods of a friend of his passing through their territory. The conflict resulted in Badi II imposing a fixed annual tribute. In the 18th century, the Funj state expanded into the Kordofan region and relied heavily on a man who later became an important kingmaker, Sheikh Muhammad Abu el Kaylak. 

One can see how the attempts at centralization of Funj sultans, or abuses of their power, often led to Funj nobles and provincial lords joining with the Hamaj in various coups, depositions, and civil wars which ultimately weakened the state. Thus, Badi IV favoring Nubians for political appointments instead of the Funj lords challenged the established nobility. One sees in the example of the Funj how an attempt to produce puppet kings is not a long-term strategy for success if the kingmakers are themselves feuding and relying on armed slaves and other supporters to depose kings and remove competitors. Yet in this tale of political assassinations, reliance on enslaved soldiers, growing Islamization and Arabization, and wars with neighbors, the Funj Chronicle reveals certain parallels with other parts of Sudanic Africa. We refer specifically to the tensions brought about by trade and migration across the "Sudanic" belt which threatened political fragmentation and the ways in which the Sayfawa dynasty of Borno and the kings of Sennar both became powerless by the 19th century. How is it that two Islamic dynasties of "Sudanic" Africa both declined and what does it suggest about Sudanic kingship in an age of jihads, slave raiding, and the impact of Islam?

Chronicles of Agadez

We here at the blog have developed a greater interest in the Sultanate of Agadez. In order to better understand Kanem-Borno as a civilization, closer study of its neighbors and larger regional context could be particularly useful. Indeed, sometimes one finds references or historical data from chronicles, oral traditions, and other primary sources pertinent to Kanem-Borno when looking at its neighbors, rivals, and trading partners. The Sultanate of Agadez, and particularly the chronicles shared with colonial officials and scholars like Yves Urvoy, provides an interesting example and striking example, as it touches upon 2 episodes in the history of Kanem-Borno: the shift of the royal capital and 17th century wars. While it is unlikely any Tuareg had a role in Ali Ghaji establishing Birni Gazargamo as the capital of the Borno in the late 1400s, the fact that the Agadez Chronicles and other traditions suggest a link between the Sayfawa and Air Tuaregs calls for closer scrutiny of Agadez-Borno relations.

As an example of the literary genre of the "chronicle" in a "Sudanic" context, incorporating a multiplicity of manuscripts and genres, one can immediately see how the Chronicles of Agadez, despite their brevity, can be situated within the larger context of the Tarikh al-Fattash, Tarikh al-Sudan, Ahmad b. Furtu's works, the Diwan of Kanem-Borno, Kano Chronicle, and various other kinglists or chronicles. Although short, perhaps due to manuscripts being destroyed in the 19th century during political upheaval, the Agadez Chronicles include some fascinating and innovative reworkings of the Sudanic chronicle as a genre. For example, what Urvoy calls Manuscript J, survived as a memoir of Abou-Bakar, son of Attaher-Tachi, and provides the closest thing to an autobiography that we have heard of from the 17th century. Sure, one can find autobiographical snippets and elements in the longer chronicles of Timbuktu and Ahmad b. Furtu or even the Borno mahrams translated by Palmer, but there's something else going on with Manuscript J. 

While the objectivity and problematic origin of the texts has been pointed out by scholars like Rossi, we find the Agadez Chronicles to be full of events that, in the main, probably did occur. For instance, the pilgrimages to Mecca by the son of an Agadez sultan in the late 1600s was mentioned by a French captive in Tripoli, who also mentioned the economic importance of Agadez's senna exports reaching France and Italy through Tripoli. Other data corroborates the general outline of the Chronicles, such as war with Borno, the conquest of Ader, and, probably the number of assassinations and dethronements of various sultans. European sources from the late 18th and 19th centuries likewise support aspects of the Agadez Chronicles. Thus, while one can see that Rossi is probably correct about the manuscripts being edited by 1907 to legitimize certain political actors in the history of the Sultanate, they also contain some great information on the nature of the Agadez state, its dependence on feuding Tuareg clans, the persistence of matrilineal descent among the Tuareg, "privileged" tribes and the relationship between nomads and the state, the business of war and long-distance trade, and, in one cases, one man's experience of life in the kingdom during the second half of the 17th century.

For us, the list of kings and how this sultan was dethroned or assassinated and that sultan survived civil war is useful to compare with the details on the deaths of various kings and political conflicts in the Diwan. Clearly, these kinglists were not just lists, but records of some of the major events that took place during a reign, probably based on oral and written sources, and suggestive of how the authors or compilers conceived of an ideal ruler. For us, the comparison to the Diwan and the history of Kanem-Borno would focus on moments where kings faced civil wars, the Bulala threat, famines, patronage of scholars, the frequency of pilgrimages, and various campaigns and civil wars between the Dawudid and Idrisid branches of the Sayfawa dynasty. One cannot help but notice the frequency of matrilineal succession among the rulers of Agadez, a phenomenon not present in the Diwan, despite the alleged importance of queen mothers and their clan affiliations. What does that suggest about the role of women, tribal or clan affiliation, and the stability of the government?

Moreover, one almost can see the early centuries of the Sayfawa dynasty as being perhaps closer to the Agadez Sultanate, an era in which the mai had to contend against Tubu and other nomadic elements which resisted centralization. Of course, we do not lend much credence to the assertions of authors like Heinrich Barth about a Berber or Tuareg origin of the Sayfawa and the royal Magumi clan. However, the Agadez state might shed light on what the early Kanem state was like as a ruling dynasty of Saharan nomadic origins combined pastoralist and sedentary agriculturalists. Lamentably, the Agadez Chronicles do not indicate the origins of the maternal ancestry of the dynasty, but power often passed from a male to his sister's son, and the "privileged" Tuareg tribes elected a king from the same family (such as Sataffane, a clan which may have come from the west). Thus, it is probably implied that all descend from the same family through their maternal ancestry from a specific clan. A similar pattern may be found with the frequency of queen mothers of the Sayfawa dynasty of Tubu, Tomaghera and "Keyi" origins, perhaps a reflection of marriage alliances between the Magumi clan and its nomadic allies. The Sayfawa mais also used the mahram to award certain nomadic allies with freedom of military obligations and taxations, a process the Agadez sultans may have approximated by not taxing affiliating Tuareg and deriving revenues from other sources.

What, if any relationship existed between the rulers of Agadez and the earlier 14th century Berber sultans of Air mentioned by al-Umari is unknown, just as possible influences from Kawkaw (Gao), Tadmakka, Gobir, and other polities in the region between Gao and Kanem-Borno probably impacted the development of Agadez to varying degrees. Nonetheless, the existence of two nearby dynasties of nomadic Saharan origins becoming an established kingdom in the Sahel, despite one being Berber, possibly followed similar trajectories. Kanem-Borno, on the other hand, seems to have developed into a more centralized and expansive state while Agadez, perhaps at its height under Mohammad-el-Mobarak and Mohammed Agabba, never completely dominated the various Tuareg clans and had to play them against each other or face dethronement and civil wars. Even after seizing control of the salt trade of Kawar from Borno in the 1700s, Agadez remained mired in civil wars and intra-Tuareg conflicts. 

Moving on from the similarities and differences between Agadez and Kanem-Borno, we cannot omit a deeper mention of Manuscript J, the remarkable document that, if future investigations can verify, is a memoir of Abou-Bakar ben Attaher Tachi, a politically-connected Agadez man born in 1657. The document translated by Urvoy ends chronologically in 1699, but encompasses a number of events in the author's personal life and the noteworthy happenings to the state. Coming from an educated background and probably Tuareg lineage (an assumption on the preeminence of his paternal grandmother), Abou-Bakar was born only a few years after Mohammad-el-Mobarak became sultan. Although his mother died during his infancy, he also makes a point of referencing his grandmother Tachi's death as well as the demise of his father's sister in 1673. This year also marked an invasion or campaign against the state of Kebbi. The next year, Mohammad-el-Mobarak's son, Aknafai, went on his second pilgrimage to Mecca, almost certainly via the Fezzan and Tripoli. 

According to Manuscript J, the powerful sultan then went to war with Borno in 1679, sending troops led by Mohammed ben el-hadj Ibrahim and Kel-Oui Tuaregs. This war, although the dates are slightly off, is probably the conflict mentioned by our French captive in Tripoli, who mentioned an attempt by Agadez to take the capital of Borno after internal revolts during Ali b. Umar's hajj. Defeated by Ali b. Umar, one wonders if a Borno source dated to c. 1658 by Palmer may actually be an allusion to Ali b. Umar's successes against Agadez. Perhaps the mention in the Borno source of the settlement of Borno scholars in Agadez afterwards, to spread Islam, may be a reference to a sort of tributary arrangement imposed on Agadez, even though Agadez was already an Islamic state. Further, our Frenchman in Tripoli wrote of Agadez "blacks" referring to Ali b. Umar with disdain as a "Cat King," mocking his reputed piety and saintliness. So, we are not sure what to make of the document translated by Palmer, but external sources definitely suggest an Agadez invasion of Borno and the seizure of Ali b. Umar's nephew, Medicon, who was sold into slavery in North Africa. A tense state of relations between "blacks" of Agadez and Borno in Tripoli continued after the conflict. 

One must also note the contrast between Borno and Agadez during this time with regards to pilgrimage. Ali b. Umar could afford to travel on extended trips through the Sahara and Egypt to Mecca, taking some of his children with him. Mohammad-el-Mobarak, on the other hand, never seems to have left Agadez while one of his sons and perhaps other "Tuareg princes" could take the lengthy journey to the Arabian peninsula. We wonder if this is a reflection of the entrenched political instability of the Agadez polity, as Mohammad-el-Mobarak had to engage in campaigns against not only "Zanfara" and Ader, but act as mediator between Tuareg clans like the Kel-Oui and Itissines in 1683. Thus, even in an expansionist phase under Mohammed-el-Mobarak and his son, Mohammed Agabba, it would seem that the Agadez state was always more unstable and perhaps less centralized than Borno or the earlier Songhay state which once ruled Air. 

Besides mentioning various military campaigns and political events that took place during his lifetime, Abou-Bakar's manuscript is full of rich personal details and reflects some of the social history. For instance, we know his work (perhaps a trader?) required him to travel frequently to Ader, where he sent supplies to Saleh, the brother Mohammad Agabba during a war with Gobir in 1689, the same year our author married Nana Aicha, the daughter of a haji from the Fezzan. One also finds reference to the death of a Timbuktu fiqh in Agadez, Umar-el-Tounbouktaouy, in 1687, attesting to long-established links between Timbuktu and Agadez that may indicate the city's political and religious standing in the Sahel. Through Manuscript J, one also finds additional references to epidemics, including a devastating one in 1687 in which several people perished, perhaps Mohammad-el-Mobarak himself. The fact that the sultan's death was hidden from the public is itself interesting, perhaps hinting at a struggle with the "king-making" privileged tribes and Mohammed Agabba. The Kel-Oui and Itissine wars in 1696 and the accompanying famine, which led to families selling their books to eat also suggests the degree to which feuding Tuareg clans and food insecurity imperiled the state. Indeed, the flood caused by heavy rainfall in 1699 probably didn't do any favors, causing the destruction of houses in the Imourdane quarter and destroying merchandise. 

In short, Manuscript J is fascinating for a snippet of the life of a politically important man of Agadez during a key half-century in the history of the state. The personal was indeed political, and reflected Agadez's trade, cultural, and religious ties to other parts of the region and beyond. As a work akin to a memoir, it provides some fascinating tidbits of information that appear to support the larger narrative arc of the Agadez Chronicles. One only wishes a lengthier version of the manuscript existed, which could tell us more about Abou-Bakar and the world of Agadez in the early modern era. Like the mahrams of Borno and the autobiographical elements of Ahmad b. Furtu's chronicles, they sometimes include biographical data on people outside of the ruling dynasties. But who was the audience for Abou-Bakar b. Attaher Yachi? Presumably members of the royal court and perhaps ulama with political or familial (or both) ties with the elite?

A Sudanic Chronicle

Lange's A Sudanic Chronicle: The Borno Expeditions of Idrīs Alauma (1564–1576) is an indispensable work. A scholarly, modern translation of one of the chronicles of imam Ahmad b. Furtu, it is one of the earliest extant West African chronicles, written in 1576. It is also one of the most detailed primary sources from Borno on the Sayfawa dynasty and the reign of Idris b. Ali. Indeed, when paired with the 1578 chronicle on the Kanem campaigns of Idris b. Ali against the Bulala on the opposite shore of Lake Chad, Ahmad b. Furtu is probably our most important written source on Kanem-Borno from the precolonial era. Unfortunately, the chronicler only covers the first twelve years of his ruler's reign, but he provides an intimate look at some of the social, political, demographic, military, diplomatic, religious and economic dynamics in 16th century Borno. Moreover, Lange's scholarly translation is more accurate and usable than the 19th century Redhouse translations or the Palmer ones with their egregious errors. For that reason alone, plus the detailed footnotes by an academic who specializes in the region, Lange's translation is required reading. 

What stands out more clearly in this translation than that of Redhouse is the literary allusions, Quranic references, and the role of military tactics. For instance, the expertise in which Idris, the brother of Vizier Kursu organizes the musketeers, shieldsmen, and cavalry to effectively defeat Ngizim towns was far more explicit here. The greater precision and contextual knowledge of the translator vividly brings to life some of the combat, military strategies, and long-term goals of Idris Alooma to wear down, defeat, displace, destroy, and starve rebels, external enemies, and nomadic foes (like the Tuareg of Air). Snippets of the population movements and displacements, such as the construction of ribats to end "pagan" incursions, are additional evidence of large-scale movements across Borno which reveal the long-term strategy of the Sayfawa to consolidate their power. Furthermore, Ahmad b. Furtu's individuality and background as the chief imam of Birni Gazargamo are more readily discernible here, perhaps due to useful footnotes of Lange.

Unfortunately, Lange never followed this with a similar scholarly translation of the second chronicle of Ahmad b. Furtu. It's a shame since the two chronicles, both panegyric in tone and clearly meant to flatter the sultan, nonetheless constitute hugely significant sources on events in Kanem and Borno during the late 16th century. The Kanem campaigns described by Ahmad b. Furtu are essential for highlighting the larger regional ambitions, influence, and extent of Sayfawa power across the Central Sudan. It also would have been interesting to read a similar gazetteer of towns and settlements in Kanem as well as Lange's commentary to shed light on the Quranic, literary, or linguistic peculiarities of the text. 

The Kanem Campaigns of Idris Alooma

The other chronicle by Ahmad Ibn Furtu covers the Kanem campaigns launched by Sultan Idris Alooma against the Bulala leaders of the region. The conflict was, according to this chronicle that covers 7 expeditions launched against Kanem, sparked by the Bulala refusal to cede 3 districts to Borno and a disrespectful letter sent from them to Idris Alooma. What proceeds from here is a hard to follow account in Redhouse's dated translation of various expeditions launched by Idris against the Bulala, who usually choose to flee and avoid pitched battles. So, Idris and his forces subdue the Tubu, ensure the loyalty of other Tubu and Arabs, raid and pillage, and forcibly relocate various peoples of Kanem into Borno. Finally, a claimant to the throne of Kanem who is aligned with Idris manages to secure the throne with the aid of Idris, who only keeps a few provines of Kanem for Borno while returning most of the area to the new ruler, Muhammad. 

Through occasional asides, Ahmad Ibn Furtu alludes to the genealogy of the Borno rulers and their ancient history in Kanem, as well as the various conflicts both internal and with the Bulala that precipitated their shift to Borno. Intriguingly, Ahmad Ibn Furtu seems to draw from both oral traditions for the early history of Borno (as well as a chronicle one a recent forebear of Idris) as well as written sources, hinting at the possibility of a number of lost chronicles of the Saifawa dynasty. Perhaps the Girgam really was just an abbreviated form of a much longer chornicle(s) that covers their lineage from their alleged Himyarite origins to the 19th century. Indeed, when covering the early history of the Saifawa kings from their ancient Kanem period, there is clearly something akin to legend and lost grandeur in Ahmad Ibn Furtu's claim that Kanem once extended as far east as Dongola and the Nile. Of course, his patron, Idris, has surpassed his ancestors as a military genius guided by devout Islamic principles, according to Ibn Furtu.

Unfortunately, we found this chronicle to be less informative and more tedious of a read than Ibn Furtu's coverage of the Borno wars. Too many encounters with the Bulala here end with the flight of the Bulala king to the deserts, and it is not entirely clear what happened in certain passages. Some of this must be due to the translation and the bewildering number of towns and place names which are not explained by the translator. Nonetheless, there is a wealth of information on military organization, tactics, and Borno's possibly "quasi-feudal" relationship with its tributary subjects and allied nomadic groups (Tubu and Arabs, for instance). A number of titled dignitaries also appear, suggesting something of the political and military administrative apparatus of Borno in the late 16th century. Allusions to merchants and the purchase of horses point to relations with North Africa and the wider world, which presumably received some of the captives from the various expeditions to Kanem. On slavery, supposedly one of the other reasons Borno was superior to the Bulala of Kanem was due to their respecting Islamic laws prohibiting the enslavement of Muslims. The Bulala, on the other hand, kept Muslim and non-Muslim captives as slaves, violating Islamic law. Perhaps Borno's Saifawa dynasty remembered events from the late 14th century when even members of the royal family became slaves sold to Egypt or Syria. Or, again, it was just another example of Ibn Furtu exaggerating the Islamic credentials of Borno and its dynasty against the pagan or insufficiently Muslim polities surrounding them. 

But once we have perused the more recent translation of Lange and reviewed more of the literature on Ibn Furtu, we shall return to his work and the nature of historical writing in "Sudanic" Africa. It has always struck us as rather odd that so many are familiar with the Timbuktu Chronicles and the importance of those primary sources for the study of Songhay or even the earlier Ghana and Mali "empires" yet few seem to acknowledge or reference Ibn Furtu's 2 chronicles which predate the Timbuktu tarikhs. Why is that? Perhaps the more limited nature of Ibn Furtu's writing, which focus on military campaigns? Or simply Timbuktu being better known as an exotic and mysterious location than Borno?

The Borno Campaigns of Idris Alooma

Perhaps out of boredom, we here at the blog have recently finished reading the first of two chronicles by the chief imam of Borno, Ahmad Ibn Furtu, translated by Redhouse in the 1860s. Covering various campaigns during the first 12 years of the reign of Sultan Idris Alooma in the second half of the 16th century, it is the earliest surviving historical writing in West Africa. As to be expected of a work by a learned Muslim, Ahmad Ibn Furtu endeavored to portray Idris as a model sovereign and Muslim, whose piety, completion of the Hajj, and willingness to listen to the advice of the learned made him an even better ruler than his grandfather. Unfortunately, the chronicle on the grandfather of Idris has not survived for posterity, but one can assume it was one of the primary models for Ahmad Ibn Furtu's historical writing, and thereby probably written in a panegyric tone that praised the military prowess, justness and religious devotion of Borno's ruler, stressing the Islamic models of the Prophet. Unfortunately for modern readers, much of the details of Idris's various campaigns against the "Sao" and Tuareg, the Ghizm and other peoples were lost, as the author seems to have mostly relied on oral accounts and perhaps only witnessed a few of the expeditions personally.

Thus, the reader only finds outlines of various expeditions with occasional anecdotes on the piety and Islamic virtue of Borno's ruler. For instance, Ahmad Ibn Furtu will insert examples of the Islamic devotion of Idris in the middle of or right after describing a campaign, such as the building of mosques in clay (instead of reeds) as one of the innovations of his ruler. Or, alternatively, Idris's intervention in public morality by prohibiting fornication and urging his subjects to submit to judgments of holy law instead of their chieftains. Fortunately, something of the military tactics and battle formation can be gleamed through Ahmad Ibn Furtu's history, however. We know the Borno ruler used brutal tactics against his enemies, destroying their crops and their trees or groves to reduce places of refuge for them. He also established stations or outposts which were fortified and used as bases to continually attack the crops and fortified settlements of his opponents. If Ahmad Ibn Furtu is to be trusted, Idris was one of the first Borno rulers to use more camels for carrying military provisions during campaigns in arid areas. In addition, Sultan Idris apparently was the first to think of enlarging the ships used by Borno's forces on Lake Chad and the rivers in their domain, developing larger ships to carry more people and supplies instead of the older ones constructed from hollowed out trees.

Oddly, Borno never seems to have adopted the use of the cannon, which presumably would have made their siege warfare tactics more effective against some of their "pagan" foes. Ahmad Ibn Furtu also mentioned the famous musketry of Borno's military, trained by Turkish advisors. Indeed, one of the few casualties in a Borno campaign on Denkir was a Turk, Ali Ghar, attesting to the presence of Turks in the military. On the ground, they appear to have played a significant role in the military formation of Borno, shooting from the rear while men bearing shields protected them from the front against arrows and darts. The cavalry appear to have remained in the rear unless the enemy directly engaged them, or they were used to cover the enemy forces from behind, preventing them from fleeing back to their strongholds. Despite their use of firearms, they seem to have relied heavily on archers and horsemen bearing armor. Moreover, much of the military spoils was meant for redistribution to chiefs and subordinates of the Sultan, and one can assume many of the children and women captives were destined for the trans-Saharan slave trade. Even Muslims appear to have been taken as captives, such being the case in the campaign against the Tuareg Berbers, who were loyal to Air ("Ehir" in Redhouse's dated translation) until subdued by Idris. To cap it all, according to Ahmad Ibn Furtu, Borno's military often exterminated the adult male population of their enemies and resettled some of the survivors in various parts of the empire, uprooting them from their homes and putting them to use in other areas. 

But as one of our few surviving written sources from the early modern era in Borno, the document is also a treasure for its descriptions of Borno's relations with its "pagan" neighbors, ethnographic descriptions, and the extent to which Borno was integrated into the wider world. For example, Ahmad Ibn Furtu alluded to Sultan Idris's pilgrimage to Mecca multiple times in the text, even including references to the pilgrimages of Idris's forebears. This, besides establishing the Islamic devotion of Borno's rulers, also points to the extent to which these elites viewed Borno as a part of the Muslim world, and its ruler as a Protector of Muslims. One would think the pilgrimages to Mecca also helped establish Borno as a Muslim power to the Ottoman Empire and other Islamic states, possibly faciliating the introduction of Turks and other foreign mercenaries. In fact, a mysterious man, perhaps named Francisco, randomly appeared in the history, perhaps another example of foreign mercenaries or advisors who made it to Borno in the second half of the 1500s. 

Borno's relations with Sahelian and West African rivals was also an interesting dynamic. Much of the reasoning for some of the various expeditions was meant to ensure security on the roads of Borno, to protect merchants. Moreover, Borno's ruler was able to shift the loyalty of various Air-aligned Tuareg to his camp, ensuring some degree of influence in the Sahel and Sahara against a rival power. Even with "polytheist" neighbors, Idris was able to overlook religious differences and act on their behalf while increasing his own prestige and influence. This can be best be seen in the case of a "Mendera" prince overthrown by his uncle, who is later restored to the throne by Idris. Borno was effective at intervening in the affairs of neighboring states, including non-Muslims, and expanding its sphere of influence when not directly administering others. Unfortunately, our chronicler was, perhaps not surprisingly, not interested in the religious practices of the Sao "polytheists," but the mention of groves of the Sao Ghafata leads one to think those woods may have possessed a religious or sacred meaning. This could add another dimension to Borno's insistent deforestation of their lands, something the Muslim historian would have applauded as a champion of Islam.

One supposes the larger question of this all is to what extent is Ahmad Ibn Furtu's chronicle a historically reliable work and what does it suggest about the nature of history, religion, and political power in 16th century Borno? As the author admitted himself, the lack of details on some of the expeditions and the fact that much, if not most, of Idris's reign is omitted, we have inherited only a limited portrait of the Idris. However, the author was clearly cognizant of precedents for his work in earlier historical works, and saw his ruler in the light of both Islamic ideals and the history of the Sayfawa dynasty. As panegyric, this work places Idris at the pinnacle of great mais in the dynasty, and probably took a few liberties to express that opinion by attributing innovations or conquests that may have not been due to Idris. It causes one to wonder if other mais or prominent people in Borno similarly commissioned likewise works on their deeds, ancestry, and accomplishments, and the extent to which writing of local history was practiced at earlier dates in the history of the Sayfawa dynasty. Regardless of the hard to believe instances in the work, clearly political power in Borno was tied to realpolitik concerns and a balancing act of supporting Islam (through pious acts, charitable works, construction of mosques, reinforcing Islamic law, respecting Muslim intellectuals) while dominating or reducing to tributary status non-Muslim neighbors. Prominent persons attracted subordinates and dependents, and were in turn called upon to support the mai in various campaigns while the majority of the population presumably toiled as farmers, shepherds, servants, and artisans in villages and towns. One can assume that the construction of the Kanuri as an ethnic group developed over the centuries of Sayfawa control in Borno. Lamentably for those interested in this history, these developments were marginal to the author of the chronicle, who sought to praise and justify the reign of the mai.

Revisiting the Diwan

We have finally read Augustin Holl's important study of the Diwan of Kanem-Borno. Based on the French translation by Lange, Holl offers a very different type of analysis of the document. Instead of interpreting the Diwan as an abbreviated chronicle constituting a political archive that one can gleam for historical data and a clear chronology, Holl prefers to view it as an oral epic of sorts. As a work originally in Arabic but probably based on Kanuri oral literature, values, and performance, it should probably be read in light of other kingslists and oral traditions. Moreover, we here at this blog can agree wholeheartedly with Holl when he points out the the often specious reasoning or problematic assumptions made by several scholars of Kanem-Borno. Their mistakes and misinterpretations have spawned a discourse which further obscures the history of a fascinating African civilization. As Holl writes, "The Diwan deserves better than this selective use, geared to support what each scholar thinks to be the genuine pathway to statehood."

Beginning with an English translation of Lange's French rendering of the Diwan, one supposes the major value of Holl's book can be found in this initial section. For those unable to read French or the original Arabic texts, The Diwan Revisited is indispensable. The rest of the text explores the Diwan from the perspective of oral epic. Thus, Holl breaks down the analysis into rhythm, repetition, sequences and patterns of patronyms, toponyms, kinship or affinity, sense of time, and performance. Later chapters endeavor to use insights from paleoclimatology, symbolism of numbers, external Arabic sources from the medieval era, anthropology, linguistics, and archaeology to make sense of the Diwan. There are definite traces of oral history in the Diwan, even assuming it was initially written or commenced at the end of the 16th century. Moreover, as a work of oral literature or borrowing heavily from it, Holl is probably correct to see the text as work reorganized and updated according to social, ideological, and political circumstances. Indeed, the very circumstances in which Heinrich Barth was provided with two copies of it, and the violent end to the man who had the two copies produced, suggest how important kingslists and genealogies were for political legitimacy. Other kingslists, including a lost one Heinrich Barth recorded a few names from, illustrates how genealogies and Kanuri oral epics were diverse and could differ in significant ways when it came to the history of Kanem-Borno.

One can also appreciate the detailed sequential chronology of the Sayfawa dynasty in Holl's analysis. A Golden Age, Classic Period, First Intermediate Period, and New Kingdom Era actually makes some sense in terms of how the Diwan depicts the history of the Sayfawa. Other scholars have also suggested the Sayfawa state in Borno was more centralized than what had been the arrangement in Kanem, so Holl's analysis is closely following some of the previous narratives. While we are not entirely convinced of 9 descent groups (Banu Duku, Banu Hummay, Banu Salmama, Banu Kaday, Banu Idris, Banu Dawud, and sub-groups of Idrisawa, Umarawa, and Dunamawa), there clearly were cases of rival lineages in the ruling dynasty which led to competing factions and civil wars that nearly destroyed the kingdom with the eventual rise of the Bulala. Perhaps it would be simple-minded to think a single family really could have ruled in Kanem-Borno for around 1000 years, but the ancient roots of the Sayfawa seem to be clear, as indicated by Lange's analysis. Further, other lines of evidence not considered in Holl do suggest some deeper antiquity of the Sayfawa dynasty in pre-Islamic Kanem, which we explored in our post on Lange. 

Unfortunately, The Diwan Revisited suffers from excessive typos and spelling errors that occasionally obfuscate sentences or passages. The study doesn't engage with all the external medieval Arabic sources or some of the other kingslists and chronicles from the Central Sudan region. For instance, what insights might Hausa and Tuareg traditions, genealogies, and chronicles have revealed for Kanem-Borno? Recent scholarship on the Agadez Chronicles and other traditions might have strengthened Holl's theory of the Diwan as fundamentally an oral epic, or at least one heavily modified before shown to Barth. Of course, the existence of at least two works attributed to Muhammad Yanbu in the Late Sayfawa Period suggest that local scholars were writing down historical works. Perhaps Shitima Makaremma was not lying to Heinrich Barth at all, and there is good reason to view the Diwan as the primary chronicle or kingslist associated with the Sayfawa themselves?