Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270

Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 by Sergew Hable Selassie has long been one of those studies of Ethiopian history on our reading list. Since we consider ourselves rather ignorant of Ethiopian history of the pre-Aksumite and Aksumite era, we considered this monograph by an Ethiopian scholar to be an important work to at least acquaint ourselves with some of the basic facts, controversies, and developments in Ethiopia before the Solomonic dynasty. To a certain extent, this book, though outdated by 2023, succeeds in those respects. An early chapter provides a detailed review of the historiography on Ethiopia's past, with useful commentary on the strengths and weaknesses of both Ethiopian and foreign historians. Much of our knowledge of Ethiopia's ancient past, at least when this book was published in the 1970s, was limited by the state of archaeological excavations. Nonetheless, the rather voluminous corpus of written sources, inscriptions, chronicles, hagiographies, travel narratives, and oral traditions has made it possible to construct a narrative of Ethiopia's past from ancient Egyptian trade with Punt to 1270.

Although Selassie stresses Aksumite civilization as an indigenous development and sees continuity through the history of Ethiopia, a number of issues arise in his use of the sources. First, his use of chronicles and hagiographies with several anachronisms, likely written centuries after the events they describe, suggest greater caution is necessary when attempting to make sense of their accuracy for events in the remote past. For instance, the author accepts the theory that Takla Haymanot and Iyasus Mo'a were both pivotal to the "Solomonic Restoration" in spite of the fact that the actual production of the literature on these two holy figures was written in contexts and dates that are filled with contradictions. In addition, the author accepts what more contemporary authors would describe as "political fictions" of Aksumite suzerainty of South Arabia, Nubia and other regions. While much of this may be due to the limited sources available for certain eras in Aksumite history, such as the later centuries of the Aksumite state and the paucity of internal textual sources for the Zagwe dynasty, this sometimes dangerous reliance on certain types of Ethiopian sources is occasionally problematic. It does not clarify, for instance, what transpired after Caleb's reign in Aksum. It also may not reflect accurately the real chronology of Aksumite kings or Zagwe rulers. In addition, the problematic legends about Gudit, some of which present her as a Jew, are clearly problematic, too, although the existence of a powerful queen who threatened Aksum is reported in the external Arabic sources. Too much uncertainty in the sources, anachronisms that refer to places such as Sennar centuries before their foundation, and the clearly legendary nature of some anecdotes or claims suggest a need for more cautious interpretation of these sources. 

To his credit, Selassie understands the limitations of some of the sources and reaches conclusions that are tentative. To the extent possible, he uses Coptic, Arabic, Greek, and other sources to corroborate some developments, especially the Aksumite influence in South Arabia under Caleb or the arrival of the Nine Saints in Ethiopia. Chronicles of the Alexandria patriarchs, Egyptian sources, Byzantine writers like Procopius, Persian histories and inscriptions from pre-Islamic South Arabia certainly do corroborate much of this information. Indeed, they support the author's contention that Abyssinia was not isolated and was actually a major player in the economic, religious and political affairs in the Red Sea region, Mediterranean, Middle East and northeast Africa. However, one wishes the author had not conflated all references to "Ethiopia" in the ancient sources as actual references to today's Ethiopia. Some of the references used by the author are obviously allusions to Nubia or Kush, such as the tale of the Ethiopian Eunuch or Taharqa of the Bible. Other bizarre occasions of the use of medieval Arabic sources include interpreting one Arabic source as referring, at least in part, to modern Ethiopia due to the geographer's use of "Abyssinia" (Habashat) to refer generally to "Black Africa" as known in the 9th century. Last, but certainly not least, the unnecessary full quotation of the forged letter from Prester John in the 12th century is excessive and serves no purpose. While "India" and "Ethiopia" were often conflated in the ancient and medieval eras, and stories of the Christian kingdom in the Ethiopian highlands would have reached parts of the Latin West during the 1100s, the letter from the Prester John situates the kingdom in the East. Sure, Ethiopia was later associated with the land of Prester John, but the letter cited extensively by Selassie reveals nothing about Ethiopia under the Zagwe kings.

Despite its limitations and the somewhat problematic use of the sources, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 does fill in several gaps in the historical reconstruction of the Ethiopian past. The Aksumite civilization was undoubtedly a major civilization with an impact stretching across the Red Sea. In truth, Aksum was of major importance when it dominated the southern Red Sea, as it could play a dominant role in the trade of goods from India to the Mediterranean. Later Aksumite and Zagwe relations with Nubia and Egypt also suggest the importance of relations between Nubia and Ethiopia by this time. The overland trade and pilgrimage routes, the migration of Copts  to Ethiopia, the close relationship with the See of Alexandria, and Nubian-Ethiopian relations and contacts must have been of major importance for Ethiopia. Unfortunately, we only find glimpses of it in the sources. That a Nubian king helped convince the Patriarch to appoint a new metropolitan for Ethiopia and both regions experienced moments of peace and conflict with the Beja and the Muslim powers neighboring them are significant for inter-religious conflict, dialogue, trade, and the spread of new ideas. To what extent the civilizations influenced each other and their relations with other parts of Africa is question future scholars may one day elucidate. One would hope that the history of the later Aksumite state and the Zagwe dynasty could someday contribute to the study of medieval Nubia and vice versa. 

Royal Chronicles of Zara Yaqob and Baeda Maryam

After reading Derat's Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme, we were curious to read two of the major sources of her study. Indeed, the royal chronicles on the reigns of Zara Yaqob and his son, Baeda Maryam, are constant references for Derat. Derat uses them to help establish a timeline for the relationship between the Solomonic rulers and monastic networks in Amhara and Shoa. Unfortunately for us, since we cannot read Ge'ez, we must rely on Perruchon's dated 1893 French translation.  Perruchon did include a helpful introductory essay that helps contextualize the manuscript and ths second half of the 15th century in Ethiopian history. However, one cannot help but wonder why modern scholars have not revisited these royal chronicles and provided updated translation based on current research findings, new insights into translation and the study of Ge'ez and Amharic, or to translate the chronicles into new languages. 

Zara Yaqob's coronation

That said, these chronicles are, despite some repetition, profoundly useful documents for reconstructing, to a certain extent, what was actually happening in Ethiopia. For instance, Zara Yaqob, whose chronicler appears to have written during the reign of Lebna Dengel, appears to have been a man of a profoundly religious bent and perhaps more authoritarian than was the average. It is fascinating to read of this one man's attempt to centralize the royal administration of the empire entirely into his own hands, relying even on his daughters to fill administrative posts and avoid dealing with the traditional administrative elites. In addition, imposing the observance of the Saturday Sabbath, the cult of Mary, and building churches across the state certainly suggest Zara Yaqob was endeavoring to centralize the state and build a more unified society. Indeed, how else could one explain his willingness to stand up to the Stephanites, punish his own children for alleged paganism, and his own authorship of religious or spiritual texts?

His son, Baeda Maryam, was also an important ruler despite only reigning for 10 years. Baeda Maryam is interesting for reversing some of his own father's policies. Unlike his father, who appears to have been more interested in concentrating all power and authority into the monarchy, he actually restored the previous administrative system of the provinces. This presumably won him followers and supporters who were alienated or removed from office by Zara Yaqob. Furthermore, Baeda Maryam continued building churches, strengthened relations with Dabra Libanos, and campaigned against "pagans" and Adal. Thus, he seems to have continued or tried to continue some of his father's policies while reverting to the pre-Zara Yaqob order of earlier Solomonic dynasty. In that regard, it is interesting that Almeida's brief account of Zara Yaqob refers to Ethiopian traditions of the day recalling him as a tyrant. Zara Yaqob's "tyrannical" rule was defended based on his religious zeal and passion for justice, yet later Solomonic rulers appear to have followed in Baeda Maryam's footsteps. 

Revisiting the Funj Chronicle

Revisiting the Funj Chronicle as translated by P.M. Holt and incorporating later materials and recensions, one sees the main benefit of Holt's work as being of greater utility for post-Funj Sultanate history. Most of the detail in the actual chronicle an be found in the late 18th and 19th centuries, but Holt incorporated materials that extend into the Turco-Egyptian period. For our purposes, mainly interested in the history of the Funj Sultanate and earlier Nubian history, this is not the most helpful. However, after re-reading most of the text, one finds that it does correct some of the errors of MacMichael's translation while offering detailed footnotes and introductory material to contextualize the references. The later sections of the Chronicle are still a mess and hard to follow (too many conflicts within the Hamaj Regency or between the Hamaj Regents and the old Funj royal family, not to mention other wars, conspiracies and shaykhs) but this is definitely the best English translation.

It is interesting to think that the Funj Sultanate was essentially experiencing what would later happen to Borno by the 1760s. The loss of effective political authority of the Funj kings to the Hamaj Regents, from the family of Shaykh Muhammad Abu Likaylik, occurred by 1760-61. Borno experienced something similar in the 1800s with the rise of the al-Kanemi dynasty. An period of coexistence in Borno persisted until the 1840s, just as the Hamaj Regents kept the old royal dynasty around until the final collapse of the state in the 1820s Egyptian invasion. Although Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi's rise to effective power was explicitly related to his charisma, military leadership and status as a respected mallam, the Hamaj Regents did not seize power in the context of foreign invasions and threats that Borno endured from the "Fulani jihad." Nevertheless, according to our Funj Chronicle, the Funj rulers were abusive, corrupt, exploitative, and immoral. Similar accusations against the Sayfawa from pro-jihad writings may have been reappropriated by al-Kanemi's followers to justify their seizure of direct power. Interestingly, however, the Hamaj Regents never went as far as destroying the figurehead traditional kings yet Borno did so under al-Kanemi's son.

In addition to the Funj Sultanate experiencing the rise of delegated authority through the Hamaj Regency, the Egyptian invasion finds a parallel of sorts with Rabih's 1893 conquest of Borno. The rise of Rabih was, in part, an aftershock of Turco-Egyptian invasion of Sudan and the spread of new military technology and tactics in Sudanic Africa. These very same developments eventually led to the loss of independence of Borno near the end of the 19th century. Thus, events that ushered in the final dissolution of the Funj state also played a role in the fall of Borno. And people in Borno certainly were aware of the late Funj state, as figures like Heinrich Barth and other Europeans commented on the presence of Sinnar natives in the region. Surely they must have been aware of the political conflict with Sinnar and the danger of Turco-Egyptian invasion. Indeed, they had to worry about it from the direction of Tripoli. 

Last but certainly not least, the Funj Chronicle partly assists with the reconstruction of the Sinnar Sultanate's Sudanic context. Numerous references to Kordofan and occasional allusions to Taqali, Darfur, and Ethiopia establish that Sinnar was actively engaged in trade, diplomacy and military conflict with its neighbors. The 1744 battle with Iyasu II of Ethiopia, for instance, was won with the aid of Khamis of Darfur. Darfur shaykhs are claimed to have supported Badi Abu Shulukh against the Funj. While some of the prominent Islamic scholars and saints in the Funj state came from the Middle East, sources like the Tabaqat hint at the presence of Islamic scholars from the Sinnar state venturing to Wadai and Darfur. This Sudanic and African context for the Sultanate is most interesting, even though the necessary sources to reconstruct it are limited in the Funj Chronicle. 

The Domain of the Solomonic Kings

Zara Yacob

Derat's  Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme is a fascinating study of Solomonic Ethiopia. Derat makes an interesting case for the centrality of Amhara and Sawa as "domains" of the Solomonic rulers in the period 1270-1527. If her interpretation of the royal chronicles, hagiographical literature, monastic chronicles, and other sources (especially Arab Faqih, Francisco Alvares, and other exogenous writings) is correct, then the tradition of Takla Haymanot playing a key role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty under Yekuno Amlak is an invented one that did not reflect what actually happened in 1270. Instead, she proposes that Dabra Asbo/Libanos (the monastery started by Takla Haymanot in the region of Sawa) invented the tradition of their founder having a central role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty to increase their prestige. Instead, Dabra Hayq, a monastery started in the 1200s by Iyasus Mo'a, appears to have been more central in the early rise of Yekuno Amlak against the Zagwe dynasty. 

She also suggests that these monastic networks were vital for the expansion and extension of the Solomonic dynasty in the two provinces of Amhara and Sawa, mountainous provinces that are defensible and, in the case of the latter, agriculturally rich. So, the Solomonic rulers, especially Zara Ya'eqob and his successors in the 1400s, began to establish and build more monasteries and churches in the provinces (and nearby ones that were recently conquered from Muslims or pagans) and in the process, force prestigious (and formerly autonomous monasteries, like Dabra Asbo) to supply clerics and monks to the religious foundations. In order to grease the wheels, kings like Zara Ya'eqob gave more land as gult or rest to these monasteries, appointed abbots (or tried to do so), used royal monasteries and churches as centers for councils that affected religious policy, and even used others as tombs for kings and pilgrimage centers. She argues that Amhara, and especially Sawa (and later Gojjam) became solidly part of the Solomonic kingdom through these religious networks in which the kings increasingly dominated religious policy and sought to use the "monastic holy man" as a pillar of the kingdom. Unfortunately, Derat's book is somewhat repetitive and her evidence relies on deductions that hope to make sense of fragmentary or contradictory hagiographies and traditions.

But she makes a persuasive case that the image of the monastic holy man changed. Monasteries like Dabra Asbo/Libanos, which once prized the martyr and depicted the Solomonic rulers as corrupt or heretics for having multiple wives, abusing their power, or seeking to change Church doctrine, later shifted to a new image of holiness in which the monastic leadership collaborated with the king to protect Christian society. As one can imagine, this process was part of the strengthening of Solomonic power in Amhara, Sawa and other provinces as the monastic and church network ultimately built or expanded bases of power for the Solomonic rulers. Even in this era of ambulant courts, Solomonic rulers made frequent visits to the religious foundations they sponsored, and those containing tombs for past rulers became centers of pilgrimage and commemoration of the Solomonic rulers. I guess it would have helped to see how this process differed in northern Ethiopia, like in Tigre, where the origins of Ethiopian monasticism could be found. Perhaps a hint can be seen in the way that Yekuno Amlak erected a church in Lasta, the center of the Zagwe dynasty, possibly inserting himself into the tradition of religious pilgrimage and sacred geography espoused by the Zagwe dynasty. Nevertheless, the most interesting figure to emerge out of this history is Zara Ya'eqob, the fascinating emperor who heavily promoted the cult of Mary, reduced the independence of Dabra Asbo, imposed the observation of the Saturday Sabbath, and convened councils on Church doctrine which were destined to support his own views. The guy also wrote a number of homilies and religious treaties and even had two of his wives killed for plotting against him.

I would still like to learn more about the actual process of Christianization of Sawa and other provinces, which is hinted at here or there. We also have some enigmatic references to the Falasha and other non-Christians but it would have been important to see how the Solomonic dynasty asserted itself and its legitimacy in other parts of the empire. Derat suggests some continuity from the Aksumite and Zagwe dynasties in terms of building churches as royal tombs but perhaps opening up to consider Christian rulership in Nubia and the Byzantine Empire would have been fruitful. After all, Ethiopians were still making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, had contacts with the Coptic Church of Egypt (whose Patriarch also had Nubia in its jurisdiction) and may have sought to establish an Ethiopian "caesaropapism" that may have had parallels in medieval Nubia. Comparisons with Sudanic Africa, as suggested by Donald Crummey, may have been of use, too. After all, one can see some parallels with Islamic kingdoms in the Sudanic belt, despite the obvious differences between Islam and Christianity. The parallels, for instance, with the Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno may offer clues to the allegedly sacred royalty theme. Or, for instance, the support for religious foundations and Islamic holymen found in the Borno mahrams could potentially offer a similar case in which the Sayfawa dynasts used their patronage of Islamic holymen to buttress their authority in disparate regions of their empire. 

Aksum and Nubia

George Hatke's Aksum and Nubia: Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient Northeast Africa is a short but rather persuasive study of Aksum's relations with Kush (Nubia) during the early centuries of our era. Based primarily on Aksumite sources such as inscriptions, relevant archaeological material, and occasionally Greco-Roman, Coptic, Syriac, and other Near Eastern textual sources, Hatke argues persuasively that Aksum and Kush, despite their proximity, did not interact in significant ways. Instead of being seen as commercial rivals or states which exerted significant influences on each other, the two appear to have only engaged in small-scale trade. Aksum was mainly oriented to the Red Sea and Indian Ocean for its commercial contacts with the broader world. Kush, or the Meroitic state, on the other hand, focused on the Nile and contacts with Egypt for its long-distance trade. Since the two northeast African polities possessed different commercial axes and thus did not have any reason to be commercial rivals, Aksum and Meroe engaged in small-scale trade without much interaction beyond this. Instead of any major cultural or economic influences on each other, Aksum's interests in the modern-day Sudan were more focused on the Beja/Blemmyes of the Eastern Desert. 

Indeed, records of Aksumite intervention or spheres of influence among the Beja to the borders of Roman Egypt in the 3rd century testify to the importance of security in the Eastern Desert area and Aksumite interests in the Red Sea coasts of Africa and Arabia. Aksum appears to have also been more invested in South Arabia, the Ethiopian Highlands, and parts of the Ethiopian-Sudan borderlands for economic and political expansion, with Nubia only being invaded during the reign of Ousanas and Ezana in the 4th century. In fact, according to Hatke, relying on the inscriptions of Ezanas and linguistic clues about Ge'ez, Greek, and South Arabian languages, has dated Ezana's famous Nubia campaign to March 360. His father appears to have also attacked Nubia, leaving evidence at Meroe itself. The son, however, was only in Nubia to launch a punitive campaign against the Noba, who had caused trouble on Aksum's frontier with groups such as the Barya. Meroe itself is not even mentioned in the inscriptions of Ezana's campaign, although some Kushite towns and people were undoubtedly captured or killed in the Aksumite raid. This political situation in Nubia possibly reflects the political fragmentation of Kush by 360, with Nubian-speaking Noba and Kushites perhaps acting independently of whatever authority remained at Meroe. Instead of Ezana wielding the final blow to Kush as an independent state, whatever authority was still claimed by the Kushite rulers may have been limited by the political fragmentation of Nubia. Further evidence from the toponyms in the inscriptions that Ezana's campaign did not affect Meroe but likely targeted towns to its north also suggest the ancient capital's demise should not be attributed to Aksum. 

Despite Aksumite claims to Kush as one of its vassal territories, the available evidence suggests this was often political fiction. Indeed, according to Hatke, it is very likely that Ezana's campaign in Nubia led to no long-last political suzerainty of the Noba. Furthermore, Aksumite sources from the 6th century king, Kaleb, also claimed Kush as part of Aksum's dominion, even though the Kushite state had ended by the late 4th century. Indeed, even in earlier moments in the 4th century, when Aksumite raids and campaigns reached Nubia, it is possible that the "tribute" sent by Kush to Aksum was actually more along the lines of gift diplomacy. Even the 6th contacts between Aksum and Nubia, suggested by Longinus meeting Aksumites in Alodia and the proposal by Emperor Justin to provide Nubian and Blemmye mercenaries for Aksum's use in Himyar, do not suggest large-scale trade, cultural influence or contacts. Nubia and Ethiopia, despite their proximity and some common interest in their frontier, and both impacted by the Eastern Desert nomads and the Beja, appear to have diverged from the period of Aksum's rise to the end of the kingdom. While the question of Nubian-Ethiopian contacts in the Middle Ages offers more avenues for contact, archaeologists have a lot of work to do in the borderlands.

The influence of Islam on a Sudanese Religion

Joseph Greenberg's short The Influence of Islam on a Sudanese Religion is an interesting account of the "pagan" religion of Hausa in the Kano area. Although dated and perhaps incorrect about the particulars of early Hausa history and Islamic conversion (influences from Kanem-Borno appear to be important, not just Islamic influences from Mali or the Fulani), Greenberg traces the relationship between Islamic/Mohammedan religion and the local, "pagan" bori and iskoki worship of the Maguzawa Hausa. Through centuries of living alongside Muslims or being in interaction with Muslims (initially said to be West African Muslims influenced by Maghrebi Islamic practices), the children of bori have absorbed elements of Islam and even created a new spirit based on their knowledge of the faith. Nonetheless, two religious traditions are distinct and reflect the ways in which West African religions have coexisted and adapted elements from Islam into their own local settings. 

In this regard, Hausa "traditional" religion brings to mind traditions like Haitian Vodou, where interaction with a monotheistic religion has led to some acculturative results while not diminishing the importance of the spirits. Even Hausa Muslims, like non-Vodouisant Haitians, often believe in the power of the spirits. As devotees of their respective Abrahamic faiths, however, they see "serving the spirits" as unlawful or wrong. But continued belief in the efficacy of these spirits for healing and other purposes must play a role in the survival of Vodou and Maguzawa religion. Furthermore, like Haitians, the Maguzawa believe Allah is a distant, remote Creator and focus on sacrifices to spirits for help. Like the Catholic saints sometimes identified with spirits, the Hausa associate jinn, including those of Islamic origins, with the iskoki and have adopted a dichotomy of "black" and "white" spirits based on the urban vs. rural, Muslim vs. pagan factors in their history. Last but certainly not least, the domestic, rural practices of the cult are rooted in patrilineal sibs among the Hausa in which the male head of the extended family is often in charge of the rites. Spirit possession rituals, tied with specific drum rhythms and instruments, are also important in the bori possession cult (linked to healing), like that of Haitian Vodou. 

Even more intriguing is to see the similarities of Hausa traditional religion with other parts of West Africa. The belief in a serpent-rainbow deity, Gajimari, for instance, and the known historical and cultural contact between the Hausa and other peoples like the Yoruba, may hint at ancient influences. The past importance of the Kutumbawa Kano kings in pre-Islamic rituals, including sacrifices that allegedly included humans, also brings to mind some other West African kingdoms. Even the Hausa word used for a "pagan" medicine man who consults the spirits to cure patients, sounds a little like the bocor or bokono of the Yoruba and Benin areas. While some of the iskoki included in Greenberg's table may differ from Hausa descriptions of the spirits outside of the Kano region, it seems likely that the Hausa iskoki spirits are generally similar and indicate a belief in spirits as the cause and cure for various ailments. Moreover, the Hausa seem to believe the iskoki reside in a city to the east, Jangare, with a political administration similar to the Hausa kingdoms. Hausa "paganism" is undoubtedly related to those of other West African peoples and, perhaps, one of the contributing traditions to Haitian Vodou. 

Song of Bagauda

After finally reading M. Hiskett's translation and study of The Song of Bagauda, one cannot help but feel disappointed. We thought it was a major Hausa source derived from oral traditions that was more useful for reconstructing the history of Kano. Instead, much of it is actually about Islamic orthodoxy and resisting "pagan" or non-Islamic practices. The main part of the text of interest to us, a list of kings of Kano which differs in significant ways (especially with regard to uncertain chronology and other variations) from that of the Kano Chronicle, is unfortunately too brief to be of use. Some descriptors of various kings of Kano may be of use, as is the claim that Umaru was the first Muslim king of Kano. As suggested by Hiskett, it does appear that the Song was updated after the death of each ruler and it is less interested than the Kano Chronicle in the "pagan" pre-Bagauda past of the city. That much of the song is concerned with proper Islamic belief and practice and calls for Muslims to avoid sorcery, divination, bori cult practices, and for the proper treatment of the dead and orphans suggests the authorship of the song reflects the concerns of Hausa Muslims. Indeed, one of the sources for Hiskett's version of the text is from a woman who learned the song from a malam.