Jacmel in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade

Checking the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database at slavevoyages.org only reveals a total of 2528 captives disembarked at Jacmel over the course of the colonial period (and over half from Central Africa). Of course, there were undoubtedly some undocumented voyages. Consulting  But it is interesting to note that Jacmel was not a major port of call for slave ships coming to Saint-Domingue from Africa. One wonders or assumes that most captives carried on French Slave ships must have arrived in Jacmel from Les Cayes or, perhaps, the ports of Leogane, Petit-Goave and Port-au-Prince via an overland route. Checking Mettas's Répertoire des expéditions négrières françaises au XVIIIe siècle reveals a few more slave ships that traveled to Jacmel. For instance, in 1786, Le Jason stopped at Jacmel and Leogane, coming from Angola with perhaps 450 slaves, which we could not confirm in the Saint Domingue press. In the same year, Les Bons Amis stopped at the port of Les Cayes and Jacmel with a human cargo of 287 from the Gold Coast (which presumably meant the broader French definition). Another ship, Les Deux Cousins, arrived in Jacmel with 190 people from Angola or Louangue, in 1788. 

More research is necessary, but it seems like the Jacmel Quarter's slave population may have had demographics that present a mix of both Les Cayes (the Sud) and the West (Leogane, Port-au-Prince). This could be seen in the relatively high proportion of Ibos among Jacmel's slave population (a characteristic shared with the Sud). On the other hand, the more frequent slave ships bringing captives to Leogane, Petit Goave and Port-au-Prince likely supplied a large share of the African bonded labor that arrived in Jacmel. Smuggling and inter-colonial trade with the Dutch and English also supplied captives, though it is difficult to quantify. According to the Intra-American Slave Trade Database, a number of vessels brought captives to Jacmel from Kingston, Jamaica (a total of 331 captives disembarked). Of course, the trade was going on earlier, if the appearance of slaves from Curacao and the English West Indies is any reliable indication. Thus, to an unknown extent, the Jacmel area was also supplied by captives from English, Dutch and possibly Spanish colonies. But the Intra-American Slave Trade Database mainly shows ships bringing captives from Jamaica or the British colonies to the ports of Saint-Domingue's South.

Anyway, checking the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database's data visualization feature for the total number of captives disembarked at Les Cayes reveals a disproportionate Bight of Biafra share, which likely corresponds with the elevated Ibo presence in the South of Haiti (Sud). Yet the Bight of Biafra share for captives imported at Cul-de-Sac, Leogane, Port-au-Prince and Petit Goave was tiny, only 1158. But compared to Les Cayes, the ports of the West imported far greater numbers of captives from the Senegambia (13,414 versus 3686 for Les Cayes). One wonders if the consistent numbers of "Bambara" in parts of the Jacmel quarter in the second half of the 18th century is likely due to "Bambara" captives brought from Leogane and Port-au-Prince, since very few Senegambians were imported at Les Cayes after 1750. Thus, we suspect Jacmel, Bainet, and Cayes-Jacmel's African population to represent a mix of the characteristics of both the "West" and the "South" in the colony, possibly resembling the "West" but having a greater share of Bight of Biafra captives. 

Jacques the Mamou?

One of the unknown "nations" of enslaved Africans we've encountered in the Jacmel Quartier of Saint-Domingue is the Mamou. Assuming we are reading it correctly, Mamou may actually be a reference to the region of what became Futa Jallon in modern Guinea. In fact, the 3 slaves of the "Mamou" nation we encountered were living in Bainet as the chattel of the Saugrain family, indigo planters in the early 1700s. We wonder if the use of the name "Mamou" in 1720 may be a reference Jallonke peoples living in the area before the establishment of the Futa Jallon state in the 1720s? Historian Stewart King, for instance, found an example of a village-level specificity with the stated African "nations" of some Africans in colonial Haiti. Perhaps Mamou in this case later became the "Timbo" nation after the establishment of the Islamic state of Futa Jallon?

Jazz & Gnawa Bambara

An interesting fusion of jazz with Gnawa music, and named in honor of the Bambara!

A Short History of Mozambique

Due to our interest in the often neglected contributions of Mozambique and East Africa to the making of the Haitian people, we thought it would be worthwhile to familiarize ourselves with the general history of Mozambique by Newitt. While much weaker on the precolonial era and the slave trade than colonial and postcolonial Mozambican history, the details of Portuguese trade, influence and colonial domination of Mozambique was useful for understanding some of the dynamics that led to Mozambique contributing to the Indian Ocean and trans-Atlantic slave trade networks. The rise of the prazo system and the emergence of Afro-Portuguese leaders (often of Asian origin) who, essentially, became warlords and local rulers adopting African titles and intermarrying with local elites, helps us to understand how slavery, Portuguese influence (which was often quite weak as the prazos acted independently of Portugal) and warfare created the conditions for the French slave traders to acquire African captives who later, in part, were brought against their will to Saint Domingue. We also learned a little more about the Makonde and Makua peoples, as well as the social and economic relations occurring in the regionally divided sections of Mozambique which intensified the slave trade by the 19th century. One thing we know for sure, Portuguese colonialism in Mozambique was particularly pernicious and did irreparable harm to its people. 

Bambara in Saint Domingue Runaway Ads

Samba, runaway "Bambara" in 1767. Samba as first name may be more indicative of a Fula or perhaps other Senegalese origin. Actual "Bambara" origins may be more likely when paired with a description of runaway slaves bearing evidence of facial scarification.

Part of the problem with gathering precise information on "Bambara" captives in Saint-Domingue is that the French themselves didn't seem to know much about them. They appear to have learned that there was indeed a "Bambara" language but runaway ads like the one above express confusion. We suspect "Mandingue" was meant instead of Bambara, particularly since Mandingues and Bambaras spoke related tongues.

Yet another example of the ambiguity of "Bambara" and other nations in Saint-Domingue. If the Tacoua were Nupe, then it seems unlikely for a Nupe person to speak "Bambara." If "Bambara" here is interpreted broadly as a Mande-related language, then it is possible for a Nupe woman to have also spoken or learned a language related to "Bambara." But it raises questions about the accuracy of labels like "Tacoua" and "Bambara" in the colony.

Another example of the ambiguity or perhaps broad meaning of "Bambara" can be seen in the case of a runaway named Fevrier. His nation, Saufo, probably Soso (Susu), a group present in the colony in larger numbers than we think, is described as a "type of Bambara." This suggests any group of peoples speaking languages similar to Bamana and probably non-Muslim could become a "Bambara."

Another ad for a runaway includes someone who spoke both Bambara and Thiamba. If Thiamba referred to the broader cluster of Gur peoples, then it is possible this man spoke Mandingue or Bambara. 

Even free blacks in Saint-Domingue called themselves Bambara. The case of Jacques dit Bambara is an interesting one, since he owned slaves and property near Mirebalais. 

Other "Bambara" runaways appear with Islamic names. Moussa, or Musa, could have been from another of different ethnic groups. We have encountered Bambara runaways with names like Boucary (Bakari) and Mamadoux.

Another ambiguous case involved a Bambara runaway who supposedly spoke Nago (Yoruba). If accurate, this is rather remarkable unless the "Bambara" maybe learned Nago in Saint-Domingue? The runaway ads also include one for a Bambara who spoke Mine, which is a bit more plausible.

Madagascar and Haiti

Thomas, a Madagascar captives listed in a notarial record from Jacmel, 1739. He may have arrived in Saint-Domingue on the ship, Saint-Michel, which imported 267 slaves into the colony in 1735.

One of the more interesting facets of the horrid annals of the French Slave Trade is the movement of over 20,000 captives from Southeast Africa to Saint-Domingue in the 18th century. Although only a fraction of the total imported slave population to colonial Haiti, this late 18th century trade (since most of the captives arrived from 1773-1792, though about 534 "Madagascar" captives were imported across the 1720s and 1730s on two voyages), the trade connected Haiti and the Atlantic with France's Indian Ocean trade and colonial interests in the Mascarenes. Unsurprisingly, most of the East African and Southeast African captives purchased by the French during the 18th century were destined for the Mascarenes, which even included a sizable enslaved population of Indians imported (which explains the tiny Asian Indian population in Saint-Domingue, too). 

Maroon Ali, a Griffe of Madagascar, posted in 1785.

The trade with Saint-Domingue was quite connected with this, however, as French ships traveling to Indian purchased goods that were then used to acquire slaves on the coast of Africa and Madagascar. Some of these ships then purchased captives from different parts of the Indian Ocean coast, sometimes acquiring captives from both Mozambique and Madagascar, before continuing into the Atlantic. Other ships, according to Jean Mettas's Répertoire des expéditions négrières françaises au XVIIIe siècle, even stopped at the Cape of Good Hope (purchasing things like vine) or on the coasts of Angola to acquire slaves for sale in Saint-Domingue. The full story of the role of the Mascarenes as a base for the French slave traders active in both the Indian Ocean and Atlantic Ocean is a story worthy of attention, as it fully connects the trade in bonded labor in both oceans/worlds while also presaging the later movement of indentured Indian labor and "liberated" Africans in postemancipation years.

Runaway ad for 2 Madagascar Africans, 1785.

Let us return to Madagascar, however. The fascinating thing is that, despite their relatively early appearance in the colony the Trans-Atlantic Database at slavevoyages.org only has 534 captives from Madagascar arrived in Saint-Domingue. Charlevoix, the Jesuit historian who wrote a history of the island in the 1730s, also mentioned small numbers of "Monomotapa" and Madagascar slaves in the colony, but neither group were highly esteemed in the colony. This may indicate that some of the 534 captives imported over the course of the 1720s-1730s included people who were later called "Mozambiques" or perhaps slaves purchased in Madagascar but from the mainland. A study of the Sakalava state and its role in the supply of slaves to Europeans in the period would be potentially fruitful for understanding the origins of Madagascar captives in the Americas. Regardless, the presence of Southeast Africans was clearly very minor in the first half of the 18th century. Perusing the notarial records for different parishes of the colony may reveal more of their numbers, as our example of Thomas, an enslaved person in the Jacmel area illustrates. Some free people of color in the colony were also reputed to be descendants of Madagascar slaves, such as the Roumat of Jacmel. Perhaps Jacmel received a disproportionate share of "Madagascar" slaves in the 1720s and 1730s? If they were not highly desired, some of the indigo and sugar planters in the Jacmel quarter may have been more desperate and willing to accept them?

Runaway ad for Zephir, a Malgache with an Indian accent, 1788.

However, with the rapid expansion of the slave trade with Southeast Africa in the last 2 decades of the 18th century, the Madagascar captives reappear. And this is in spite of the overwhelming majority of captives from this region being acquired from Mozambique. According to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade database, 15,280 "Mozambiques" were disembarked in Saint-Domingue with another  2644 purchased from the area of Kilwa. Clearly, for the Malagasy to reappear in Saint-Domingue during the final 2 decades of colonial rule, some must have been acquired from the Mascarenes, unspecified ports, or ships that purchased captives at multiple areas in Southeast Africa. Consulting the work of Mettas provides a few examples of slavers that did exactly this, purchasing some captives in Madasgascar and the Mascarenes but bringing cargos mainly consisting of "Mozambiques" to Saint-Domingue. One particular example, La Victoire, picked up around 80 captives at Bombetoc before continuing its voyage toward the Atlantic in 1785. We suspect this may have occurred more often than recognized or detectable from surviving sources, particularly given the large Madagascar component of the enslaved population in the Mascarenes during this era. Perhaps a decent chunk of the 1,449 slaves from unspecificied Southeast African ports were Malagasy.

A 1773 runaway ad for a Malgaffe, or Malgasse, slaves. 1773 is also the year of the earliest known direct slave imports from Mozambique to Saint-Domingue. A baker in Leogane also posted for sale a Madagascar domestic, Bourbon, in 1775.

As the above runaway ad illustrates, the reappearance of Madagascar slaves in Saint-Domingue coincided with the year of the first documented slave ship bringing captives from Mozambique to the colony. Since the return of Malagasy captives to Saint-Domingue happened at the same time as the larger scale trade in Malagasy captives to the Mascarenes, ethnic groups appearing there likely indicate the same origins of Madagascar slaves in Haiti. Madagascar natives enslaved in the Mascarenes were drawn from the following groups and areas: Antateimo, Betsileo, Hova, Sakalava, according to Baron d'Unienville. Allen, citing a 1817 slaves register on Mauritius, lists the following groups found there: Ambanivolo, Amboalambo (Merina), Andrantsay, Antaisaka, Antalaotra, Antanosy, Antatsimo, Betanimena, Maninga (sic), Marvace (sic) and Sakalava. Although these are the known ethnic groups for 19th century Malagasy slaves in the Mascarenes, one is probably on safe ground to suspect that it was similar in its ethnic distribution in the late 18th century. Interestingly, we do not see the Bara people listed, a group who, per the speculative reasoning of Jean Fouchard, may have provided the name or at least influenced Haiti's national dance. 

The sale of a Madagascar slave sailor who could speak very good French, in 1786.

To what extent these Malagasy peoples contributed to the formation of Haitian culture is unclear. Their numbers were far smaller than those of "Mozambique" origin, and the "Mozambiques" do not appear to have bequeathed too much to Haitian culture. However, genetic studies of the Haitian population undoubtedly reflects Southeast African ancestry, as a survey of Haitian African matches by the Tracing African Roots project indicates. Nonetheless, an African person of Madagascar origin was the subject of a Haitian newspaper article in 1839. Named Lundi, this Madagascar native was a slave and master sucrier on the Santo habitation in the Croix-des-Bouquet area. Apparently, he saved the estate 3 times during the tumultuous years of the Haitian Revolution and post-1804 conflicts. The article, published in L'Union, praises Lundi while also lamenting the demise of Haiti's sugar production. Due to the class biases of the author and the interests of some of the journal's contributors in reviving large-scale plantation agriculture, one should probably interpret the story of Lundi very carefully. However, it is one of the few accounts mentioning people of Malagasy origin in 19th century Haiti. 

The Hausa in Affiches Americaines

Although it mainly provides limited information, consulting Saint Domingue's newspaper, Affiches américaines, available at the Digital Library of the Caribbean, is a wondrous resource. One can see advertisements for the sale of imported slaves, runaway slave notices, and, occasionally, individuals selling slaves. Sometimes the level of detail on the captive African population can be very meaningful or relevant for gaining more insight on their origins, experiences, and exploitation. Perusing it for references to the Hausa in Saint Domingue was actually quite illustrative of certain trends and theories about the Central Sudan's involvement in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade before the 19th century.

For example, one can find references to Hausa runaways that may bear African names. This above example, Boupa (Bouba?) is ambiguous, but could point to possible backgrounds for captives from northern areas who reached the Slave Coast. 

Some of the advertisements for newly arrived ships carrying captives are similarly worthwhile. The example from above, from 1787, reveals that the cargo included Hausa as well as Arada captives. Intriguingly, Hausa captives had been imported since at least the 1760s, but it seems like the diverse "nations" from the Bight of Benin only began to be distinguished more regularly by the last 20-30 years of colonial rule. One wonders if the French slave traders, who probably had little ability to demand only specific "nations" when waiting to fill their cargos for the Atlantic voyage, were responding to growing demand and stereotypes of Saint Domingue slaveholders.

Occasionally, the "Nago" and other nations besides Aradas and Hausas appeared as part of the cargo for arriving slave ships, like the example from 1786 demonstrates. One suspects that the Hausa captives were perhaps mainly taken from ports like Porto Novo, Badagry, and Onis. Indeed, historians such as Adamu pointed out Lagos, Porto-Novo, Badagry and Whydah as the most important ports for exports of slaves from deep in the interior.

In addition, perusing the newspaper reveals some of the exceedingly rare female Hausa in the colony. Since it seems likely that female slaves exported from the Central Sudan were favored for trans-Saharan trade rather than the Atlantic one, the Hausa in the colony experienced one of the highest gender imbalances of the enslaved population. Yet some, like a woman, Suzanne, estimated to be around 50 years old, were brought to Saint-Domingue and ran away in 1790. It's possible her advanced age made her less valuable in the northern trade. Yet in the very same year, a young Hausa woman was a runaway, estimated at 24 years of age.

One can even find sales for individual Hausa in the colony. For instance, a young Hausa with experience at a coffee plantation, was posted for sale by a colon in Grands-Bois in 1790. This young Hausa's background on a coffee estate seems to have been a common experience, as Hausa, largely imported in the North, St. Marc, and the West would have largely labored on sugar and coffee plantations.

And for Haiti, the links to the Central Sudan did not end with independence. Besides being visited by Nicholas Said of Borno later in the 19th century, some of the Africans liberated from slave ships and brought to Haiti included Hausa. La Gazette Royale of Henri Christophe's state, for instance, alluded to some of the Hausa brought to Haiti from a Portuguese ship. Indeed, the publication even alludes to a troop of Hausa or Nupe who performed a dance in 1811. One Hausa child from the intercepted ship performed an impressive dance by himself.