Questions from al-Lamtuni to al-Suyuti

Reading John Hunwick's "Notes on a late fifteenth-century document concerning 'al-Takrur'"in African Perspectives is essential for early Air history and local Islamic reformism. Although some scholars disagree with locating al-Lamtuni's home in Air or Takedda, Hunwick presents a convincing case for a Air origin. The nature of al-Lamtuni's questions posed to the Egyptian scholar, al-Suyuti, allude to a region whose population included a mixture of Tuareg, Hausa and likely Fulbe elements. The Tuareg practice of matrilineal inheritance, female spirit possession (and the Hausa bori cult), an elaborate royal court culture reminiscent of Agadez and Hausa states, and the belief in "idols," employment of praise singers and dancers, and prostration before the ruler sound like Agadez (or, alternatively, another state in the Central Sudan and even parts of the Western Sudan). According to al-Lamtuni, women and men did not conduct themselves appropriately and local residents also frequently raided each other and plundered. This sounds like the Tuareg of Air, although other Saharan Berber populations could be intended. However, in light of all the evidence and the likelihood that al-Suyuti wrote his response to al-Lamtuni at the same time as his epistles to the rulers of Agadez and Katsina, Hunwick is probably correct to assume al-Lamtuni was describing the society of late 15th century Air. 

As Hunwick states, the Islam of the masses was likely weak and retained several local customs, superstitions, and practices. The belief in sorcery, ill-omened days or birds, possession of women by jinn, and passion for charms or talismans do suggest either the Air region or, perhaps, the area of the Niger Bend. However, what is even more interesting about the short exchange between two intellectuals is what it suggests about the nature of the state in the Central Sudan. Although the sultans of Agadez were initially chosen as arbiters of the Tuareg clans in the region, their courts and their attempts to consolidate authority and control taxation resemble those of Sudanic states. Indeed, according to al-Lamtuni, the rulers of his land divided land into smaller units, perhaps "fiefs," whose appointees collected taxes on behalf of the ruler. These local officials, sometimes chiefs or elders or others, proceeded to overtax those lands and exploit the population. Some even chose to allow "pagans" to inhabit their lands, engaged in commerce with them, or associated with them rather than Muslims. This is perhaps a reference to the lightly-Islamized or non-Islamic rural Hausa and Fulbe in the region as well as very lax Tuareg. Hunwick even sees an early reference to the pivotal salt trade from Bilma to Air and Hausaland in al-Lamtuni's questions. If so, the trade in salt between Bilma and Kawar to Hausaland via Air must have been a major source of revenue and exchange for the rulers of Agadez. Borno, at the time still the dominant power in Kawar, must have also especially interested in secure trade routes and influence in Air or its surroundings. 

Despite its limitations, al-Lamtuni's questions are a testament to the early Agadez state's attempts to establish a system of taxation and administration that derived revenue from taxes in kind. Moreover, the state established a system of market dues on horses, camels, goats, cows, slaves, firewood, clothes, as well as entry and exist at the city gates. While Hunwick believed the rulers of this region could have also been a reference to the Agadez, Takedda and a third local ruler, we find it more likely for it to represent a single burgeoning royal court at Agadez. It established a system of taxation and land tenure that, despite the limitations of its authority over the Tuareg, was able to lay the foundations for a state that persisted into the 19th century. As a royal court with Hausa and Central Sudanic foundations, one can glimpse the attempts at statecraft of a Central Sudanic type seen in Kanem-Borno or among the Hausa states. The process in this case, however, never quite succeeded to attain the degree of centralization of the prominent Hausa states or Borno. Perhaps due to the lack of a sufficient agricultural base and internecine conflicts among the Tuareg clans of Air, Agadez could not centralize to the same degree as Borno. Nonetheless, the Islamic reformism of its scholars undoubtedly influenced Uthman dan Fodio and the jihad that transformed the Central Sudan in the 19th century. 

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?

What is Sufism?

Enjoy this detailed overview on Sufism from one of the best Youtube channels covering religion. As someone interested in the spread of Sufism in the Central Sudan, particularly Borno, it is necessary to understand the larger history and context of it. This is a good start.

The Slave Coast

Robin Law's The Slave Coast of West Africa 1550–1750: The Impact of the Atlantic Slave Trade on an African Society offers a fascinating analysis of the Slave Coast during the era of a growing slave trade with Europe. Differing from scholars like Polanyi or Akinjogbin, Law focuses on the impact of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade as a stimulus to commercialization of the economy. The growth of European trade in the region appears to have fueled monetization and market forces through currencies (cowries), imported goods that reached local markets (not just elites or kings for redistribution), sources of iron and thread for smiths and weavers, foodstuffs trade (to provision slave ships), exports of textiles and akori beads for the Gold Coast, and the rise of mercenaries and soldiers for hire. While features of this commercial economy likely existed in the pre-Atlantic trade era, particularly the trade in salt from the coast or trade in textiles, beads, provisions, ivory, and slaves, the trade with Europeans fueled this process. 

In a sense, one could argue that the Atlantic trade did not hinder economic development of the Slave Coast. However, the unknown demographic impact and the necessity of violence to procure captives undoubtedly led to instability and conflict over access to European trade. This process, according to Law, favored the eventual emergence of a hinterland kingdom, Dahomey, as the dominant power due to its military ethos and ability to procure captives for the coastal ports. Dahomey, like Allada and Whydah, learned to combine a mixed position as middleman and supplier of captives yet ultimately failed to create a new kind of state or "revolution" in Slave Coast precolonial polities. Dahomey, despite some decline in the number of captives exported after the conquest of Whydah and Allada, eventually stabilized its exports and was certainly heavily influenced by the European trade. 

Indeed, besides being more autocratic and, eventually, integrating conquered peoples, Dahomey appears to have become rather similar to Allada and Whydah, the two earlier dominant states in the region. Allada, whose decline was already visible by the late 17th century, was once the paramount power in the region (despite also once being under the overlordship of Benin and Oyo). Like the future Dahomey, at least the Dahomey of Tegbesu, Allada and Whydah were ruled by kings who practiced some degree of ritual seclusion, patronized specific cults that were public festivals, engaged in trade with Europe, and competed with each other and subordinate coastal ports and regions for a share in the market of slaves. Women, unlike men, were favored for local slavery while occasional trade wars between Allada and Whydah destabilized both. The western Slave Coast was also impacted by Gold Coast refugees, mercenaries, and bandits who became an additional source of instability and conflict over control of the Slave Coast's lucrative trade. In fact, Dahomey inherited this as post-conquest Whydah rulers fled west for refuge and a branch of the Allada ruling family emerged in Porto Novo. The eastern portion of the Slave Coast increased in importance for the trade with Europe via towns like Badagry while Dahomey's rulers struggled to consolidate their hold over Allada and Whydah. Over time, the Dahomey kingdom seems to have created a provincial administration and endeavored to combine royal control and private share in the slave trade with a supplier and middleman role. 

Ultimately, despite acting as a stimulus to commercialization and economic exchange, the the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade's legacy in the Slave Coast appears to have created disastrous demographic impacts and a reliance on violence in one form or another to continue. Dahomey's catastrophic depopulation of Whydah, for instance, plus the raiding of various inland communities, must have, at best, neutralized the economic stimulation from trade with Europe. Nonetheless, history of Allada, Whydah and Dahomey during these pivotal centuries illustrates how the trans-Atlantic economic networks were deeply linked to interior African polities, such as Oyo. Through these links to Oyo and the Malais or Muslim traders active on the Slave Coast by the early 1700s, one can connect trans-Saharan, trans-Atlantic, and intra-West African trade networks that illustrate global connectivity. Through the trade of captives native to the Slave Coast, one can also detect their legacy in the Americas through religion, culture, and even, for a time, Allada textiles exported to Barbados. 

Wangara Chronicle

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

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

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

Saharan Jews and al-Maghili

John Hunwick's short study of al-Maghili and the Jews of Tamantit is a fascinating read. Although our interest in al-Maghili is mainly in his time and influence in Hausaland and Songhay, learning about other aspects of his Islamic scholarship and biases sheds furhter light on the full social and intellectual context of his era. Unfortunately for the Jews of Tamantit and those in Songhay, al-Maghili was able to rouse anger and resentment against them for having a synagogue, dressing like Muslims, and enjoying close ties to rulers. According to al-Maghili and other Islamic scholars, such behavior was a violation of the pact that protected dhimmis. Thus, the Jews of the Saharan oasis lost their synagogue and much of its population fled. Furthermore, through al-Maghili's influence on Askia Muhammad of Songhay, Jews were banished or prevented entry to Timbuktu. Although Jewish traders and residents appear to have been allowed back in Timbuktu by the late 18th century, such a move by Askia Muhammad indicates the degree to which he was influenced by al-Maghili's views. 

Moreover, it must have played a role in redirecting or perhaps even harming parts of the trans-Saharan trade routes that connected the Western Sudan and the Maghrib. Indeed, if Jews in North Africa and Saharan towns like Touat and Sijilmassa were important for financing and conducting trade across the desert, banning them from Timbuktu and attacking them in North Africa must have weakened. Hunwick, however, sees the tightening of restrictions and, basically, pogroms, against Jews in parts of North Africa as a result of growing economic pressure during an era of burgeoning European penetration of Africa. Jews, an increasing population due to expulsions from Spain may have become the scapegoats as Islamic scholars like al-Maghili sought to target them through religious policy. Such a theory is plausible, although one wonders if Jewish traders simply shifted their Sudan trade networks further east and west, perhaps to the benefit of regions like Fazzan, Borno, and parts of Hausaland. Despite al-Maghili's influence in late 15th century Kano, one does not hear of anti-Jewish harassment or policies. Indeed, even with hints of anti-Jewish prejudice in one of the Borno documents collected by H.R. Palmer, there never appears to have been an attempt by Borno rulers to target Jewish traders or prohibit their entry. 

Sonni Ali Ber in Myth and History

Adam Konare Ba's interesting study, Sonni Ali Ber, is perhaps somewhat outdated. Due to the extensive study of the epigraphic evidence and, increasingly, archaeological excavations at Gao and critical study of the Tarikh al-Fattash, Sonni Ali Ber may be guilty of perhaps overemphasizing the dichotomy of "traditional" Songhay "animism" versus Islam. That said, this remains an important work for its juxtaposition of the Songhay religious/mythical perspective on Sonni Ali with that of the portrait revealed of the man in the Timbuktu Chronicles, al-Maghili, and historical scholarship. By delving into the mythical and religious interpretations of Si Ali by those claiming descent from the great king, one can see aspects of the cultural, religious, and political values of "traditional" Songhay society that are obscured or ignored by some of the Islamic sources. Indeed, immersing the reader into the worldview and magical practices of the Sonianke shows just how strong pre-Islamic traditions and beliefs were in the foundation of the Songhay state. 

Sonni Ali, or Si Ali, became a larger than life figure through building an empire based on both his belief in Islam (not a strict or rigorous belief, however) and the political precepts of Songhay spirituality. Indeed, in the latter worldview, the king was the first priest whose position entailed intermediary roles between his subjects and the divinities and spirits. As such, Sonni Ali could not accept the supremacy of the Timbuktu ulama in matters of religion. Like all builders of strong states, he sought to subjugate the clergy (or religion) to the authority of the king. It also happened to be the political order most legitimate and favored by the Songhay masses, too, since Ali was raised in this "animistic" religion. However, like all progressives, Ali sought new ideas and practices in Islam and other cultures. His syncretistic Islam, for instance, did not reject Islamic occultist science or all Islamic scholars. Thus, Sonni Ali was able to fulfill the expected roles of a political leader according to Songhay beliefs and practices while not rejecting new ideas or concepts. 

The portrayal of him in Muslim sources often reflected either the biases of Askia Muhammad (al-Maghili) or the descendants of people who suffered from Si Ali's quarrels with Timbuktu scholars (the author of the Tarikh al-Sudan). Keeping that in mind, and drawing on references from ethnographic work among modern Songhay who claim descent from the Si dynasty, one reaches a more nuanced view of Sonni Ali. Instead of being a Kharijite or pagan, the reality was more complex in terms of the ruler's personal beliefs and practices. Furthermore, his conflict with the Timbuktu ulama and the Fulani was similarly complex. Instead of reducing the king to a cruel tyrant and even a racist, he was actually laying the foundations for the Songhay Empire that would become even grander under the subsequent Askia dynasty. Some of the Fulani, Timbuktu scholars, Mossi, and Tuareg who were obstacles to his vision of a state that dominated the Middle Niger and protected trans-Saharan trade required strong state actions to protect his subjects, reward followers and ensure a harmonious equilibrium between the people and the spirits (in accordance with Songhay religious precepts). By several measures, his state-building process was a success in that it allowed Songhay to dominate the region in the years of imperial Mali's decline.

Whether or not Si Ali really is the same personage as Zaberi, a holey spirit in Songhay religion, maybe up for debate. Similarly, we are still left in the dark about whether or not the Si or Sonni were actually descendants of the earlier Songhay dynasty. Much of this earlier history is shrouded in myth. And as explained by the author, Songhay myth often incorporated deified persons into familiar mythic personages instead of creating new divinities. The deeper antiquity of Songhay religious practices and the prominence of the Sorko in the early annals does suggest great antiquity for some of their practices. Similarities and parallels with the Hausa, Bariba, and even Yoruba through Shango (Dongo) suggest that "traditional" Songhay religion and magic is part of a plethora or related West African religious systems with deep roots. This pre-Islamic foundation of Songhay culture is still very much alive, and elements of its history can shed light on the history of the Songhay if used carefully. If one avoids the romanticizing perspective of Boubou Hama and others who sought to elevate Sonni Ali into a nationalist or even a pan-Africanist hero, one can see how the oral traditions and mystique associated with Sonni Ali in ethnographic studies can inform or complement our interpretations of the written sources.