Talaka or talakawa means commoner in Hausa, but various sources attribute the word's origin to Kanuri or Tuareg (Berber). The term's widespread use among Berber-speaking communities as well a various Sahelian and West African cultures with links to trans-Saharan trade point to a Berber origin. The term's Berber origins can be seen in the following passage from Dictionnaire des racines berberes communes: Suivi d’un index français-berbère des termes relevés by M. A. Haddadou:
L£W luqqet « être pauvre, p. ext. être humble et doux , être humble, doux et pieux » selleqqet « rendre pauvre » taleqqe, pl. tileqqewîn « homme, femme pauvre » (To) taleqqi, pl. tleqqiwin « homme, femme pauvre » (Ghd) taleqqi « misère, pauvreté » (Wrg) taleqqi, pl. tileqqwin « pauvreté, misère » (Mzb)
Indeed, even deep into the Sahara, among the Tedas and Dazas, the word is used. Others point to its existence in Mandingue, Bambara and other West African languages. It is remarkable that a word to designate commoners and the poor is shared across so many cultures with links to the Sahara, Sahel, or trans-Saharan trade. Intriguingly, the word does not appear to be of Arabic origin. Perhaps its widespread occurrence across many languages in and around the Sahara is a testament to the increased role of trans-Saharan trade in social divisions and status? And, undoubtedly, the strong presence of Berber speakers among the Muslim traders and residents in the Sahel.
Reading some of the research guidelines for projects in the 1980s on the history of Quranic education in Borno and the biographies of the ulama of the Central Sudan since the 15th century was an interesting experience. Although the projects seem to have never took off, the short publications tied to the Centre for Trans-Saharan Studies at the University of Maiduguri contain a number of interesting ideas, bibliographies and a rough plan for how to conduct these vast research projects. Alas, with the exception of a tabaqat of Borno ulama in Bobboyi's dissertation, The 'Ulama of Borno: A study of the relations between scholars and state under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808" and the project edited by Hunwick and others on Arabic literature in the Central Sudan, we are still in the dark about these rich topics.
Marie-Laure Derat's L’énigme d’une dynastie sainte et usurpatrice dans le royaume chrétien d’Ethiopie, XIe-XIIIe siècle is an intriguing and challenging work. The lack of adequate documentation for most of the rulers of the Zagwe dynasty and the problematic reliance on oral traditions, hagiographies and historiography based on the Solomonic legend of the subsequent dynasty makes it rather difficult to establish with greater clarity what was the Zagwe dynasty. However, using the available Arabic sources (particularly Copts writing the history of the Patriarchate of Alexandria), later hagiographies, archaeological evidence, and inscriptions, land grants and kings lists, Derat proposes some new interpretations while raising more questions. Derat does this while endeavoring to understand the paradox of how the Zagwe rulers were seen as both usurpers yet holy.
For example, the assumption of an Agaw or Cushitic origin of the Zagwe dynasty is far from clear. Further, the oral traditions compiled by Conti Rossini are contradictory and difficult to make sense of. Instead of assuming a Cushitic or Agaw origin, Derat proposes a model in which the Zagwe rulers emerged from a long-lasting second wave of Christianization that occured in the late Aksumite and post-Aksumite period in eastern Tigray. Archaeological evidence indicates there an area of ongoing church construction and thriving Christian communities, perhaps leading to a reunified Ethiopian Christian kingdom that reestablished contact with the Patriarchate in Egypt. Derat even suggests that the famous rock-hewn churches at the site associated with the most illustrious Zagwe ruler, Lalibela, were not built because of Muslims prohibiting Ethiopians from making the pilgrimage there. Indeed, the Zagwe appear to have contributed to the Christianization of an already used space, building marvels that were associated with rulers like Lalibela. Their donations to churches and ecclesiastical groups similarly exemplify their efforts to reinforce their rule as patrons of the Church and monasteries.
Unfortunately, since it is so difficult to disentangle the problematic sources written during the Solomonic era and shed light on the Zagwe dynasty from sources written during their dynasty. The genealogy of rulers is uncertain, the hagiographies were written after their fall and promote the idea of the holiness of some as saints while also accepting the Solomonic legend of the legitimate dynasty which took over in 1270. Nonetheless, it does seem like the standard narrative on the Zagwe dynasty in Ethiopian historiography is in need of substantial change. Portraying them as "Cushitic" or Agaw usurpers against "legitimate" Semitic Solomonic rulers or implying that the former practiced matrilineal succession based on the contradictory sources available indicate this problem quite well. All one can say is that the Zagwe rulers such as Lalibela and Yemrehanna Krestos achieved sainthood while modeling an idealized kingship, one which was later adopted by Zara Yaq'ob and subsequent Solomonic rulers. This paradox of usurpers and holy rulers may reflect that long process of Christianization in other regions of the kingdom which, influenced by the traditions of the Kebra Negast and apocalyptic literature from Coptic and Syriac sources, later emerged the Solomonic dynasty as heirs to Aksum.
Bruce Trigger's Nubia Under the Pharaohs is a brief study of the relations between Egypt and its southern neighbor from the Early Dynastic Period to the rise of the Napatan Kushite kingdom. As one can expect, a study such as this relies heavily on archaeological surveys, excavations and inscriptions to make sense of Pharaonic Egypt's interests and subjugation of Nubia. However, Trigger's publication is rather outdated by now, and reflects older scholarship's occasionally problematic racial framework. For instance, Egyptian attitudes about the southerners during the period of the New Kingdom empire are compared to the attitudes of Europeans about black Africans during the period of European colonial rule in Africa. Sure, Egyptian inscriptions recorded during the zenith of their empire in Nubia reflected their self-serving narrative but one wonders to what extent it was any different from Egyptian attitudes about their Levantine subjects. In addition, "brown" populations in Lower Nubian are distinguished from the "negroid" populations further south in a way that racializes the population history of Nubia. This does not seem particularly helpful, especially given the wide-ranging ties between Lower Nubia and Upper Nubia since prehistoric times. Indeed, the widely-shared C-Group characteristics as well as the presence of Pan-Grave burials (in addition to Egyptian imports and Egyptian-styled graves) point to a heterogeneous population in which "race" as we see it today should not be imposed.
Despite these aforementioned "issues" and being somewhat dated, Trigger's study does suggest some ideas about how and why "Egyptianization" in Nubia became so influential and enduring. While influences from predynastic Upper Egypt appear already in the A-Group culture of Lower Nubia, the less favorable agricultural conditions in that section of Nubia may have limited the development of states or stratified societies. Nonetheless, populations in Lower Nubia were able to enjoy imported manufactured products from Egypt in exchange for African products desired by the Egyptian royal court and luxury markets in the Near East. Acting as middlemen between the powerful Egyptian state to the north and southern territories like Yam (Iam, assuming it was indeed in the area that later became known as Kerma), Lower Nubian groups appear to have enjoyed a degree of prosperity in the Old Kingdom period. However, Middle Kingdom Egyptian expansion, which included fortifications at key sites along the Nile to protect trade routes and access to gold, removed the need for Nubian middlemen in this next phase of Egyptian relations with Nubia. Nonetheless, a powerful state centered at Kerma, Kush, was able to prosper and during the Second Intermediate Period, even trade with the Hyksos in Lower Egypt profitably. Kerma expansion to the Egyptian frontier made them a potent state whose rulers were interred in large burials featuring human sacrifice on an impressive scale. Undoubtedly, Kerma was a power with access to Egyptian and Near Eastern products as well as some of the amenities and features of pharaonic civilization (the adoption or use of hieroglyphics is inferred from an Upper Egyptian ruler intercepting a letter from the Hyksos ruler to the Kerma king).
The New Kingdom era, however, ushered in the most extensive period of Egyptian rule. Extending to at least the 4th Cataract, the New Kingdom pharaohs sponsored more fortifications, Egyptian settlements, gold mining operations, trade expeditions with the south, and Egyptian settlements. Egyptianization took on a new dimension as local elites (which included some descendants of the Kerma rulers as well as local headmen who had probably enjoyed a degree of status and power under Kerman rule) were sometimes sent to Egypt for education and adopted Egyptian burial styles, ritual worship and other traits. To what extent the population of Nubia was reduced to serving as peasant labor for estates of temples or serving the Pharaohs for mining or military service is unclear. According to Trigger, Egyptianization here was so heavily promoted because the Egyptians had little respect for local institutions and cultures in Nubia while also eager to fill the void left by the fall of Kush with more "advanced" Egyptian administrative, economic, and religious features. We find it hard to imagine the kingdom at Kerma was so lacking in establishing an administrative framework but perhaps the Egyptians wanted to efface the old system of Kush, especially since occasional rebellions in Upper Nubia continued to arise that may have preferred the Kushite state system. Regardless of the extent to which Egyptianization was more heavily promoted in Nubia than in the Levant, after 500 years, one can see why the Napatan-Meroitic civilization that emerged after Egyptian colonial occupation may have borrowed heavily from pharaonic civilization as a framework for the administration of an state that encompassed all of Nubia.
François-Xavier Fauvelle's highly readable Les masques et la mosquee: L'empire du Mali (XIII-XIVe siecle) is based on a series of lectures given by the author, benefitting from its written form to incorporate new insights and depth. Due to the limitation of the available sources, Fauvelle endeavors to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a manner that is likely or at least to propose hypotheses that match or can correspond with what is known, often without adopting literalist interpretations of external Arabic sources or the large corpus of oral traditions. Thus, a possible area is proposed for the site of Mali's capital during the 1300s, when Mali was at its apogee. In addition, a reinterpretation of Ibn Khaldun's chronology of Mali kings in the 1200s and 1300s is offered that attempts to make sense of the two distinct "houses" of the imperial dynasty, one claiming descent from Sunjata and the other from his brother, Abu Bakr. The legendary Mansa Musa, a descendant of the house of Abu Bakr, may not be remembered by traditionists because of his lack of direct descent from Sunjata. While some of the ideas of Fauvelle are still just hypotheses, we found his analysis of Mansa Musa's pilgrimage and the story of his rise to the throne interesting. Mansa Musa as Moses and his predecessor, who allegedly perished in the Atlantic, as a Pharaoh, is a "fresh take" on the anecdote and how Mansa Musa possibly positioned himself in relation to Quranic or Islamic notions of Moses and proper leadership. The intriguing take on Malian court ritual under Mansa Sulayman is also fascinating, indicating how the rulers of the Mali Empire were mansas and sultans who interfaced between two distinct conceptions of power and legitimacy.
The Archaeology of the Meroitic State: New perspectives on its social and political organisation by David N. Edwards is an interesting, yet short read. Arguing in favor of the Meroitic state (and perhaps during its Napatan phase and even the state of Kerma) as a Sudanic one resembling medieval and early modern states like the Darfur Sultanate, Borno, and the Funj or Sinnar Sultanate, Edwards believes the Meroitic state must be reconceived. Although the impact of Egyptian civilization and influences is undeniable in Kush, the role of the environment and archaeological evidence suggests the Meroitic state was founded upon different principles than that of Egypt.
Instead of the control of production with ample surpluses, Nubia, especially Lower Nubia before the adoption of the waterwheel or saqia by the 300s, the kingdom was likely a segmentary state with the power of the rulers based on "trade" and warfare. In this case, the Meroitic rulers controlled "trade" or exchange with the North and through a redistribution network to provincial elites, controlled other provinces (loosely). The state's military capacity was likely also significant since military force and raiding could ensure a supply of locally valuable commodities (like livestock) and, through subjugated territories, access to gold, ivory, slaves, and other valuable exports to the north.
Much of the book tries to fit Lower Nubia into this model, based on analyses of settlement patterns and data from cemeteries or burials. While much work remains to be done, if Lower Nubia's population truly was so low during this period of Meroitic "resettlement," then the theory of Edwards that these settlements were likely oriented to continue or ensure central government control of the routes to trade with Egypt for Mediterranean or Near Eastern prestige goods (later redistributed through the royally-controlled distribution network across the state). Thus, Meroe's "fall" in the 4th century may have had more to do with the loss of control of northern trade from the royal court, eventually leading to provincial elites severing ties while Blemmyes and Nobadaes settled in Lower Nubia in larger numbers. Since we don't know enough about the Meroitic state in relation to its core area (where it presumably exerted far more direct control and was better able to tap into local production and control access to water sources), one wonders about the core of the state's productive capacity for locally produced prestige goods. Despite the limited evidence from archaeology and our inability to read Meroitic inscriptions, the idea of the Meroitic state being "Sudanic" is an interesting hypothesis.
Hadrien Collet's Le sultanat du Mali - Histoire régressive d'un empire médiéval XXIe-XIVe siècle is a challenging read. Very academic and interested in avoiding literalist readings of oral traditions or Arabic sources, the focus of this regressive history is an emphasis on the historiography of Mali. This historiography reveals discursive practices of various generations of historians who wrote about the past of Mali, from Mamluk-era scholars like al-Umari to the post-medieval historians and chroniclers of the Timbuktu tarikh tradition or colonial and post colonial academics and scholars. By highlighting the historiographical turn, Collet's study endeavors to understand the ideological, literary, and other contexts of the key texts utilized as sources to construct a narrative of the "imperial" era in the Western Sudan. Likewise, a rereading of Arabic sources and a desire to place them in their context reveals how al-Umari, Ibn Battuta, and others from the Muslim world conceived of Mali in terms of Islamic geography, science, literature, and geopolitics. By attempting to understand the larger context for our external sources on Mali, instead of relying on extracts that divorce these sources from their larger context, one can gain new insights into the origin and meaning of the relevant writings. Collet's text particularly does this with regard to al-Umari's encyclopedic chapter on Mali and the Rihla of Ibn Battta. Surprisingly, Ibn Khaldun, who provides some of the richest information on Mali in the external sources, does not receive a chapter.
The choice of beginning with the colonial-era scholarship of the likes of a Delafosse and orientalists like Cooley to the nationalist scholarship of Mamby Sidibe or the post colonial age of scholarship from the likes of D.T. Niane and Cheikh Anta Diop, makes it easier to see for the reader how the narrative of the "Mali Empire" developed and became an established historical "fact" in academic, Afrocentric and online discourse. However, a deeper analysis of the ways in which this narrative was established by scholars and academics in the 19th and 20th centuries reveals a number of problems and concerns. Since we have not examined some of the scholarship analyzed here, particularly the works of Monteil or the Malian and Guinean publications of the post colonial era, we nonetheless find a problem with the colonialist, nationalist, Afrocentric, and interpretative lens used by these scholars. The colonial-era ones, for instance, like Delafosse, did not always cite their oral sources clearly and later scholars adopted a sometimes uncritical use of oral traditions, treating the griots as "neutral" reservoirs of "raw facts" or data that can be used to supplement the meager external Arabic sources for the medieval sultanate of Mali. In reality, however, these oral traditions as preserved by griots are not frozen in time but adaptable to new conditions and meanings to retain their relevance. In other words, scholars may have rushed to historicize figures like Sundiata while also promoting the narrative of a precociously modern "constitution" for the state established by this figure.
In short, scholars must use oral traditions as carefully as written sources, and in so doing will similarly recognize the agency and creativity of griots as historians. This type of analysis will potentially elucidate or bring us closer to answering the questions of past generations of specialists and scholars. For instance, using oral traditions and archaeological data critically to rethink the location of the capital of the Mali sultanate. Instead of looking to Niani, the discredited imperial capital promoted by colonial scholars and Niane, the capital of the sultanate may have been further north and not in the Manden heartland as we know it today. Likewise, the collection of oral traditions in different parts of Manden and trying to analyze how they reflect post-"imperial" Mali conditions after the loss of their northern territories (Djenne, Walata, Timbuktu, etc.) highlights the "living" nature or conditions of oral traditions.
The next section analyzes post-medieval West African historians in an intriguing manner. Building on the model of historian Paulo Fernando de Moreas Farias and Mauro Nobili, the famous tarikhs of Timbuktu are seen in a new light. In addition, 19th century Islamic scholars such as Muhammad Bello of Sokoto and the chronicles and writings of Muslim scholars from Walata and the Hamdullahi caliphate. By treating the authors of texts as historian colleagues, one can begin to see how their construction of Mali and the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa functioned to express an Islamic West African conception of the region's past. Takrur, for example, is redefined by these authors in ways that clearly deviate from the historical kingdom of Takrur or the use of the term by Mamluk scholars in the East. Mansa Musa and his wondrous pilgrimage, the sponsorship of mosques, and the honor he accorded to the ulama represent a model of leadership. Like the future Askia Muhammad's function in the chronicles, Mansa Musa therefore served as an exemplary Islamic ruler who also helped establish Takrur as a Muslim geographic space. Although our 17th century chroniclers al-Sa'adi and Ibn Muhtar appear to have largely relied on oral traditions for Mali and a few external Arabic sources, their anecdotes, stories, and traditions on the Middle Niger's past under Malian suzerainty indicate the enduring memory and legacy of the kingdom. Even when in conflict with Songhay, the Islamic sultanate Collet suggests may be conceived as "modern" or "early modern" rather than medieval, Mali and the memory of Mansa Musa suggest it retained its power and legacy as an Islamic state.
The final chapters analyzing the major external Arabic sources (al-Umari, Ibn Battuta) and the Mamluk-era writings on the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa, present, perhaps, the denouement of the historiographical and hermeneutical turn embodied in this work. These sources, written in the time of the Mali sultanate's zenith or soon after, reflect the power and reputation attained by the West African state after Mansa Musa's pilgrimage impressed Mamluk Cairo in 1325. Collet's reading of al-Umari and Ibn Battuta exemplifies this well, as both authors receive detailed treatment in terms of their backgrounds, their writings beyond the well-known extracts on Mali, and the literary and intellectual concerns and styles of their respective genres. Seeing Ibn Battuta and Ibn Guzzay's co-produced narrative as literary does not mean the voyage to the Sudan never happened (although it is possible Ibn Battuta never went beyond Walata). Indeed, following literary conventions and seeing the topology of the genre of travel writings that situated the Sudan (Black Africa) and the Far East as distinct zones bordering the unknown lands. The notion of "marvels" used here, particularly in the chapter on Ibn Battuta, was fascinating and points to, in our opinion, the overall veracity of Ibn Battuta's account of Mali. While undoubtedly drawing on a larger corpus of literature on the "Land of the Blacks" in Arabic literature, the local customs and "exoticisms" described in the text are sometimes unique and, if not directly witnessed by Ibn Battuta himself, were based on first-hand accounts. Like al-Umari, who also occasionally drew from the larger context of Arabic literary conventions and geography on sub-Saharan Africa, Ibn Battuta's story of cannibals to the south of Mali and other "marvels" demonstrates the literary nature of the source. That insight, however, does not mean the journey to Mali never occurred. It actually offers a new perspective that can raise new questions and conclusions about the nature of Mali during the 14th century.
Sadly, Ibn Khaldun's detailed analysis of Mali does not have a separate chapter in Collet's detailed book. It is a shame, since Ibn Khaldun's use of a "Takruri" informant from Ghana indicates the presence of an account drawing on a different regime of truth. Indeed, the Takruri faqih in Cairo may represent a late 14th century West African perspective on Mali, drawing on "fresh" traditions and possibly written sources for his reconstruction of the chronology of mansas. Uthman, this Ghana faqih interpreted via Ibn Khaldun, represents, besides Mansa Musa himself in the reports on the pilgrimage, the closest thing to a contemporary "internal" voice on the sultanate. It would have been interesting to read Collet's breakdown of Ibn Khaldun and his larger sociopolitical theory of history in this context, as well as an early local/West African history of Mali. Otherwise, al-Umari largely relied on al-Dukkali, who is said to have lived in Mali's capital for several years, or the filtered accounts of what Mansa Musa was reported to have said to Mamluk officials during his Egyptian sojourn. Even if Ibn Khaldun's account is not particularly reliable, the use of Takruri informants who were contemporaries of 14th century Mali merits further investigation.
