Asante and Its Neighbors

J.K. Fynn's brief Asante and Its Neighbors, 1700-1807 seeks to elucidate the rise of Asante under Osei Tutu to its position as the predominant power of the Gold Coast by the early 1800s. While mainly relying on records of the European trading posts and forts on the coast and occasional oral or ethnographic evidence, Fynn's narrative account appears to follow an accurate chronology of Asentehenes also used by scholars like Wilks. The Asante, who were little known to the Europeans in the late 17th century, were able to seize upon the opportunities of greater trade and access to firearms to pursue political and economic expansion. The "northern factor" was also relevant for the trade in gold, ivory, kola nuts, textiles, and slaves with markets in the Sudanic land and trans-Saharan networks. However, access to firearms gave an advantage to the Asante against the militaries of the Dagomba, Gonja, and others. However, Asante access to the coast was hindered by the Fanti and, at various times, by other polities of the Gold Coast. Thus, the history of 18th century Asante, according to Fynn, is, to a large part, the tale of Asante expansion to the south, subjugation of other polities as tributaries, and the eventual establishment of Asante control of the southern ports in the early decades of the 19th century. Unfortunately for them, however, the British commitment to anti-slave trade measures became a problem just as the Asante achieved more complete, unhindered access to the coast.

Part of the problem of the Asante state in the 18th century was the failure of Osei Tutu, who, despite his excellence as the founder of the state who bequeathed a number of customs and practices to foster unity, to develop a more effective administrative system for ruling conquered peoples. Opoku Ware, his successor, attempted reforms that were later blocked by provincial rulers. This, plus ongoing revolts, internal discord, and struggles with the vassals made it difficult for Asante to emerge as the hegemon of the region until closer to the end of the period under examination. Fortunately, later rulers, like Osei Kwadwo, were able to accomplish administrative reforms with a bureaucracy that improved imperial administration. The Asante rulers may have also relied heavily on access to northern markets (and captives, such as the "Duncoes" and their Akwamu allies to still receive firearms, trade goods, and find areas for political expansion. Asante's conquest of Gonja and Dagomba, for instance, must have assisted with these aims as Asante expansion to the coast was hindered by the Fanti or tributary states in rebellion. The northern factor, therefore, must have remained of great political, military and economic significance while the Atlantic trade with European was ultimately the source for the Asante's expansion through access to muskets and gunpowder. Trying to understand this dynamic role of northern trade and Atlantic trade in the fortune of West African states like Asante and Oyo seems especially relevant, even though Asante did not rely on cavalry supplied by horse imports from northern trade.

Of interest for our purposes is Fynn's comments on the "Dunko" or "Dunkoes" sold into slavery from the Gold Coast. According to sources cited by Fynn, the word "Donko" meant slave. In addition, the Dunkos often had tribal marks on their faces and were often associated with northern territories like Dagomba, Mossi, Frafraf and others. We know from the Arabic chronicles of northern Ghana and contemporary Europeans at the coast that the Asante were active in north in the 1740s and again in the 1770s and subsequent decades. Indeed, a revolt against the Asante in 1780-1781 was likely one of the Dagomba, referred to as Duncoes. The Dunkos of Saint Domingue, or colonial Haiti, were therefore a mix of people from what is now northern Ghana and surrounding areas. Some of these Dunkoes or Dokos were also maroons of Le Maniel. If some of them were natives of Dagomba, then perhaps there may even have been an Islamic presence among the Duncoes in Saint Domingue. 

Revisiting Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert

Due to a rekindled interest in the history of Sufism in Kanem and Borno, we decided to revisit H.T. Norris's Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert. Largely consisting of a translation of the Qudwa (at least part of it likely written in the late 17th century or certainly before the 1800s) with commentary and additional contextual information on Sidi Mahmud al-Baghdadi and the question of Sufism in the region of Air, the study is of great potential importance for understanding how Sufism functioned in the Sahel and Central Sudan. While Sufism in, say, Kanem-Borno, was undoubtedly of greater antiquity than the appearance of Sidi Mahmud in the Air region in the first half of the 16th century, various sources connect the Mahmudiyya with later Islamic scholars, holymen, and mystics in the Central Sudan. For instance, Shehu Uthman dan Fodio, was initiated into Sufism with a silsila that linked to Sidi Mahmud. In addition, Uthman dan Fodio lived for some time in Agadez and was undeniably exposed to those who followed in or were influenced by the "Way" of Sidi Mahmud. Furthermore, Muhammad Bello, whose writings on Air and Mahmud al-Baghdadi bear an uncanny resemblance to the Qudwa, also revered the memory of this Sufi mystic. Moreover, North African sources similarly attest to the far-ranging contacts and influences of the Mahmudiyya and Air Sufism. Shaykh Ahmad al-Yamani, a native of the modern Sudan, visited Air after spending time in Kalumbardo, a Sufi settlement in Borno. According to al-Yamani, who reported on Kalumbardo and the Mahmudiyya in Morocco, reputation of Sufis like Shaykh Ahmad al-Sadiq b. al-Shaykh Uwayis al-Lamtuni was of the highest standing. 

What is particularly useful for our interests, with regard to the Mahmudiyya, is their possible influence on or shared characteristics with Kalumbardo. While Norris suggests Sidi Mahmud had links to Anatolia and the Muslim East in his approach to Sufism, the Qudwa mentions, with some detail, the practices of dhikr, wird, khalwa, discipline, fasting, ritual ablutions, meditation and group prayer and states of ecstasty achieved by members via prayer. Mahmud did not reject fiqh, either, since he saw the need for both fiqh and gnostic, mystical knowledge. However, his pursuit of ma'rifa and importance of his status as a sharif may have been more unique traits of his particular moment, perhaps including the prohibition on taking the lives of animals during retreats, too. According to the Qudwa, the sultan of Agades had Sidi Mahmud executed after jealous jurists convinced him that the Sufi leader posed a threat to his throne. Only after the fact did the Agades Sultan, Ahmad b. Tilzay, discover that Mahmud truly was an ascetic Sufi and sharif. The tale of his martyrdom has not been corroborated by other sources, although writing by Ahmad Baba from the early 1600s suggests that the Mahmudiyya were heretical mytics who believed that the only "Way" was through their own, rejecting some of the main tenets of the Islamic faith.

The Koyam Sufis and ascetics, descendants of the Kalumbardo community dispersed after a Tuareg attack eradicated Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi's community, represent an interesting tradition of Islamic mysticism in the Central Sudan. According to Norris, their prayer rituals resemble those of the Mahmudiyya. Moreover, evidence from the Nashr al-Mathani points to contacts between Kalumbardo and the Air mystics. Further, some of the early followers of Sidi Mahmud were Hausa and Fulani, and Tuareg were also known at Kalumbardo. To what extent the Kalumbardo community of Abdallah al-Burnawi was directly linked to the first settlement associated with a Tuareg, al-Jarmiyu, and a Fulani, Waldede, is muddled in Muhammad Bello's account. However, the earlier Kalumbardo community was destroyed by Umar b. Idris of Borno, who had al-Jarmiyu executed while Waldede fled to Bagirmi. If the community led by Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi was following similar Sufi practices yet met favor with Ali b. Umar of Borno, then the asceticism and mysticism of the second Kalumbardo community was perhaps similar to that practiced in Air by the Mahmudiyya. 

What is truly amazing then is the vast network of Sufism and its political impact in the Central Sudan. For example, the founder of the Wadai sultanate, said to have studied in Borno and Baghirmi, may have been influenced by Kalumbardo through the Bagirmi center of Bidderi, which included Fulani with ties to the early Kalumbardo settlement suppressed by Umar b. Idris. Shehu al-Kanemi was also said to have had ties to the Koyam, the descendants of the Kalumbardo community led by Abdallah al-Burnawi. Likewise, subsequent Koyam shaykhs, descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi, were also connected with the Sayfawa dynasty and protecting the frontier of Borno. Of course, ongoing links to Air and Hausaland were also ongoing, providing a possible additional influence on the spread of Sufism in the Hausa kingdoms. While the origins of Sufism in Kanem-Borno surely predate the 16th and 17th centuries, the Mahmudiyya provide a window into how one community may have functioned for centuries in the area. Remarkably, the descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi persisted into the 20th century, proving themselves to be long-lasting and effective at forging a long-lasting relationship with the Sayfawa. 

Sirat al-Habasha

E.J. van Donzel's translation of A Yemenite Embassy to Ethiopia 1647-1694: Al-Haymi's Sirat Al- Habasha is an interesting account by a Yemeni traveler to the court of Fasiladas in the 1640s. Although the Yemeni envoy failed since Fasiladas was not actually interested in converting to Islam, his brief account, too vague in some parts, adds another perspective on the diplomatic policy of the Ethiopian ruler (as well as the intrigue and conflict within the royal court). The Ethiopian emperor was only interested in improving the security of the route to the Red Sea port of Baylul, believing that closer relations with Yemen and a regular exchange of envoys would attract more merchants (the Yemeni envoys traveled with soldiers, and the improvement of security along the route could have made Ethiopia less dependent upon Turkish-ruled Massawa. However, the insecurity caused by the Oromo near the route, plus its desolate, desert conditions, inhibited the development of trade via Baylul. Indeed, as explained by van Donzel, the Yemeni imam's success in defeating the Ottoman Turks was likely another reason why Fasiladas was interested in closer relations. Unfortunately, for al-Haymi and the ruler of Yemen, Fasiladas was only interested in trade, and even the hint of a possible conversion sparked opposition from members of the court in Gondar.

Despite the failure of Fasiladas to establish closer ties and increase the significance of the Baylul for Red Sea trade, al-Haymi's account suggests other areas in which the negus was successful. For instance, he was able to neutralize an abuna who was perceived as too powerful (and corrupt), imprisoning him on an island in Lake Tana. His brother, called Claudius by Lobo, was also imprisoned due to the threat of his military leadership. In fact, Fasiladas's full brother was also supposedly sympathetic to the Jesuits and Catholics. Of course, al-Haymi, who saw Fasiladas's leadership fail in instances like the arson committed against his lodgings on more than one occasion or in the way some officials ignored their orders to protect the Yemeni envoys on their return, had a more negative perspective. To him, Fasiladas was said to have been a drunk and unaware of the occurrences in the provinces due to his conniving ministers (who were also accused of corruption, bribery, and oppression). Nonetheless, the ruler was able to establish a royal capital with an impressive royal castle, supposedly built by an Indian. In addition, the royal court was splendidly attired, showing the ostentation and lavish consumption of the Ethiopian elite. Surely these demonstrate the power of the Ethiopian rulers in terms of acquiring luxury goods and the capacity of the Gondar rulers to built monumental architecture. Fasiladas was also able to eliminate possible threats to the throne and avoid plunging the kingdom into further religious conflict or divisions. Furthermore, Fasiladas was able to convert many of the Falasha to Christianity, albeit through violent means. 

In other respects, al-Haymi's account also provides some account of Ethiopia's religious diversity and cosmopolitanism. The Indian architect of the royal castle was said to have built it in an Indian style. The Ethiopian elite used luxury goods like mattresses and silks imported from distant lands, such as India and the Middle East or swords from Sinnar. The Arabic interpreter for the king was a sharif who converted to Christianity and may have come from Bukhara in Central Asia. Even al-Haymi, who lamented the lack of intellectual accomplishment among most Christians, found inquisitive minds among some Christians and Muslims in Gondar. Despite Christian hostility to any local conversion to Islam and the alleged ignorance of the monks, Solomonic Ethiopia under Fasiladas was a cosmopolitan place and well-connected to other powers of the region and beyond. 

Ethiopia and Alexandria

Stuart C. Munro-Hay's Ethiopia and Alexandria: The Metropolitan Episcopacy of Ethiopia is perhaps somewhat dated but an interesting read. Focusing on relations between the Patriarchate of Alexandria and the Aksumite (then the Zagwe and Solomonic Dynasties) kingdom from Frumentius in the 4th century to Amda Tseyon in the 14th century, Munro-Hay's study illustrates how important our sources on the Patriarchs of Alexandria are for reconstructing Ethiopian (and Nubian) history. While much of the period covered in this book are well-trod and familiar to anyone interested in Aksumite and medieval Ethiopian history, the emphasis on Alexandria's connection to Abyssinia provides a different focus for one of the remarkable relationships of Christian history. Indeed, the very relocation of the Patriarchate of Alexandria to Cairo was, in part, motivated by the easier communication with Nubia and Ethiopia. Moreover, the chronicles and other Coptic, Syriac, Arabic, Greek and Ge'ez sources highlight the international role of the patriarchs as a major force in Egyptian relations with Nubia and Ethiopia during after the Muslim conquest of Egypt. 

Unfortunately, some of the gaps in our knowledge of the later centuries of the Aksumite king and the paucity of clear data and chronologies on the transition from the Aksumite rulers to the Zagwe dynasy are not clarified by the familiar sources on the Coptic Church. Nonetheless, the sources on the patriarchs, the metropolitans they appointed for Ethiopia, and correspondence between Egyptian and Abyssinian rulers do seem to confirm the chronology of the Zagwe dynasty favored by Munro-Hay. Nonetheless,Munro-Hay had to rely on speculation for some of the possible omissions of metropolitans in Ethiopia, the melkite and Jacobite metropolitans, and the legends of Gudit, late Aksumite kings lists, and Ethiopian relations with the Nubian kingdoms. Indeed, it is the relatively unknown nature of relations between the Nubian statea of Makuria and Alwa with Abyssinia that are most interesting. 

While Solomonic rulers like Yekuno Amlak and his son corresponded with the Mamluk sultans of Egypt via a Yemeni ruler as an intermediary, the land route to Egypt, via the Nubians, was an important route. Numerous envoys, metropolitans, and traders traveled through the route, but Nubian-Ethiopian relations are sadly still a topic of conjecture. Makuria and Alwa were also in the position of having local bishops or metropolitans, with the confirmation by the patriarch in Egypt. Surely, one would think Aksumite and later Ethiopian rulers would have also attempted to force the Coptic Church to recognize local metropolitans, too. Yet despite this, the Ethiopian rulers remained dependent on Alexandria to appoint metropolitans who, in turn, ensured local bishops and clergy could be created. In fact, Nubia appeared. to have played a supportive role in helping Abyssinia regain the favor of Alexandria while both Northeast African Christian regions also saw themselves as supporters of the Christian communities of Egypt. In fact, a perhaps large number of Copts even fled to Nubia and Ethiopia to escape Muslim persecutions 

Voyage to Wadai

Traveler al-Tunisi's Voyage au Ouadây is the sequel of sorts to his earlier narrative on his travels through the Darfur Sultanate. Even more extended and featuring additional tangents and chapters on his traversing of the Sahara, al-Tunisi's account provides detailed informaton about a pivotal era in the history of the Sudanic region (and Tripoli). Traveling to Wadai during the reign of Sabun, who opened another route for trans-Saharan trade to Benghazi, al-Tunisi personally witnessed (or heard via his father and others) the exploits of Wadai's victory against Baghirmi. In addition, al-Tunisi witnessed the last days of the Awlad Muhammad sultanate in the Fezzan, some of the career of Yusuf Qaramanli in Tripoli, and stories of the decline of Borno via jihad of Zaky (Uthman dan Fodio). Thus, al-Tunisi's travels and anecdotes captured a significant moment in the history of the Sudanic region as major figures like Sabun, Yusuf Qaramanli, al-Kanemi, and Uthman dan Fodio reshaped the economic, social, and political landscape of much of Africa. Indeed, through his experience in Egypt and witnessing the reforms of Muhammad Ali, one can even include Egypt and the Sudan as part of this era of momentous change which significantly impacted the Sudanic areas.

A native of Borno who studied at al-Azhar in Cairo.

Undoubtedly, the major importance of this work is the overview of the kingdom of Wadai. Probably founded sometime in the early 1600s, al-Tunisi reported some of the traditions of its origins. Claiming Abbasid origins and other traditions, Wadai's first ruler united the region and established a tradition in which successors could only be born to mothers from 5 privileged tribes. Moreover, the sultans of Kordofan, Darfur, and Waday purportedly shared a common origin, which could be a reflection of the previous political history before the 17th century. While, sadly, the people of Wadai and Darfur, to al-Tunisi's knowledge, did not write or keep chronicles of their history, he was able to write a brief summary of the history of Wadai's sultans before Sabun. Indeed, it was clearly one in which conflicts with the Keira sultans of Darfur were frequent. Darfur's rulers intervened in the affairs of Waday while those of Wadai attempted to do the same in the other country. In fact, before al-Tunisi's arrival in Wadai, conflicts with Dar Tamah, the mountainous region subject to Darfur that stood between the kingdoms, were supposedly fueled by the Fur sultan's interest in weakening Darfur. However, neither kingdom could truly subjugate the other. Perhaps the vast distances and relatively equal military forces (despite Waday's troops being braver) lowered the chances of success. However, after Sabun's death under mysterious circumstances (was he killed by cow thieves or did he die from illness), one of his brothers later seized the throne with the aid of Darfur, pledging to pay tribute. That brother, however, was able to relatively easily take power due to internal divisions and a recent plague that struck the kingdom. Needless to say, he was able to easily enough throw off the yoke of tribute to Darfur. 

The major area of focus for al-Tunisi, of course, was the piety and brilliance of Sabun. Intriguingly, he personally was not well-treated by Sabun. Blaming it on a Moroccan sharif who abused his position and influence in Wadai's court, al-Tunisi was not the recipient of the totality of Sabun's largesse. Instead, it was the privileged position of al-Tunisi's father, who served as an advisor to the sultan, which seems to have accounted for the high praise of our author. His father, who received land grants, gifts, and helped in some of Sabun's campaigns (including the violent one which denuded Tamah of crops), must have told his son of some of the brilliance and piety of Sabun. According to our author, Sabun vanquished injustice, centralized administration (by shortening terms of service for administrators and using others to spy on them), welcomed ulama and Islamic holymen, and engaged in just campaigns against the incestuous, violent mbang Ahmad of Bagirmi. Furthermore, Sabun revealed himself as a reformer and visionary, planning to create coinage (a plan he was persuaded not to pursue by his court), open new trade routes to the Magreb to decrease his dependence on the Fazzan, and employ firearms with slaves especially trained in their use. While some of Sabun's reforms and visions did not materialize, he was able to, despite the significant loss of lives, open a new trans-Saharan trade route, expand Wadai's influence in Bagirmi and make Wadai one of the strongest kingdoms of the Bilad al-Sudan. The story of his rise was also an admirable one, relying on cunning and careful planning to outmaneuver his brothers. Sadly, after his death, Wadai witnessed a series of ineffective or corrupt rulers who disputed the throne until a brother of Sabun returned decades later. 

One of the most interesting chapters of al-Tunisi's voyage tells the tale of the conquest of Bagirmi, a major kingdom once tributary to Borno. Unlike other sources, claiming Sabun of Wadai only invaded Bagirmi upon the request of a (weakened?) Borno, al-Tunisi places all the blame on mbang Ahmad. Ahmad was so perverse he married his half-sister, ignoring the wishes of the ulama and Islamic law. Then he went so far as to lust after his daughter! Meanwhile, his fetcha was busy raiding Wadai territory despite several peaceful letters from Sabun. To provide even further justification, ulama in Bagirmi allegedly wrote to Wadai asking for intervention from the tyranny, corruption, and perversity of the mbang. Unsurprisingly, after the raids on Wadai territory continued unabated, and the alleged corruption of Bagirmi's ruler descended into further degeneracy, Sabun launched a campaign. Sabun's troops continued their advance onto Massenya while the mbang pretended his troops could handle the invasion and there was no immediate threat. By the end of the campaign, Bagirmi's mbang was killed in battle, Massenya was sacked (the treasury of the mbang supposedly had the equivalent of more than 200,000 francs) and pillaged (including the enslavement and rape of several inhabitants) and Sabun placed another member of the royal family on the throne. Unfortunately, a son of the previous mbang and his fetcha continued to resist Wadai, fleeing to Kotoko and then plotting against the king placed on the throne by Wadai. After more campaigns, Sabun agreed to allow this prince to become the new mbang of Bagirmi, with an agreement to pay a lowered annual tribute to Wadai. The effects of this campaign were such that the price of slaves decreased and a number of Bagirmi subjects ended up in Wadai. 

Photo from Lebuef's Ouara, Ville Perdue.

For significantly increasing the size of the kingdom, welcoming Islamic scholars, and opening new trade routes, and combating corruption and tyrannical officials in his kingdom, Sabun was compared to Muhammad Ali of Egypt. While the comparison was probably just in some regards, Sabun's reign was perhaps too brief to consolidate all of his achievements for subsequent rulers. Nonetheless, al-Tunis's description of the customs and cultures of Wadai and the the rest of the Sudan (Black Africa) are occasionally fascinating and problematic. As in his book on Darfur, one can occasionally detect ethnocentric biases. Indeed, the depiction of the sexual and marital practices of Wadaians may reflect a belief in the lasciviousness of black Africans. The pagan populations to the south of the Muslim Sudanic states, naturally, are beyond the pale in terms of civilization and culture. Pagans who do not possess any law, they were also decentralized and did not unite when it would have been feasible to do so against the Muslim raiders to their north. But al-Tunisi was not so biased as to not recognize great talent in the artisanry of some weapons and tools produced by the southerners, the Fertity, Kirdaouy, and others. In addition, his account of the operation of Darfur slaving expeditions, very distinct from those of Wadai in that they were operated by private individuals with a firman from the sultan, illustrates how easily tributary pagan populations to the south could be victims of raids as well as benefit from the slaving expeditions. Some of these Darfur expeditions penetrated deep into the heart of Africa, with one 18th century group allegedly reaching a vast river with people who looked like Indians (this is not explained in the text). This deeper penetration of the African interior from the North is interesting in light of the deeper penetrating of slave trading from the Indian Ocean to the east as well as the ongoing slave trade to the Atlantic World.

Besides his general commentary on the military, administrative, religious, and marital customs of Darfur and Wadai, al-Tunisi also applied a theory of Ibn Khaldun to explain the decline of Borno under the Sayfawa. According to him, the forces of Zaky (dan Fodio) were initially so successful against the Bornoans due to the latter's customs of luxury and comfort. Becoming too comfortable and attached to their luxuries, the Bornoans were no longer able to field the type of brave resistance necessary against their opponents. Consequently, they required the aid of the al-Kanemi, mistakenly represented as the alifa of Kanem, to defeat the Fulani and liberate Birni Gazargamo. Unfortunately, al-Tunisi never personally traveled to Borno. But his father and other informants did, one source even reporting that the soldiers of Borno were such cowards that they mistook a flock of ostriches from afar for the vast army of their foes. The frightened Borno soldiers then were ready to turn around and flee. While the reality of Borno in this phase was more complex and al-Tunisi did not have enough information, it is possible his testimony reflects a shift in the Sayfawa dynasty's basis of power. Instead of pure military force, which likely retained importance, the Sayfawa mais may have relied more on their perceived spiritual and religious authority. One wishes al-Tunisi had been able to gather more information on Borno in the early 19th century instead of reporting a few anecdotes and commenting on the treatment of his father who was robbed there due to the ongoing conflict with Bagirmi. 

Overall, al-Tunisi's two-part travelogue is a fascinating account of much of the Sudanic belt of Africa in the early 19th century. His numerous tangents are occasionally delightful treats to information about various topics. For instance, the pretensions of Tubu Rechad "sultans" who take advantage of their desert setting to repeatedly demand gifts from travelers. Or, for instance, finally returning to Tunis only to have his father steal his money while taking a bath! Then the ordeal with his uncle when he endeavored to collect the goods and inheritance of his father, who passed away during his final trip to Waday. Our traveler experienced a number of setbacks and wonders, including people stealing his water while crossing the Sahara and being saved by a devout, faithful slave. He even experienced the perils of internal discord and war in the Regency of Tripoli when the Awlad Sulayman rebelled against Yusuf Qaramanli. The poor traveler even had to bear the risk of traveling with goods of Yusuf Qaramanli overland. One only wishes al-Tunisi and Perron had collaborated on an account of his experiences after his travels to Black Africa, such as the wars over Greek independence and events in Egypt after his final return to Cairo. 

Mandingues of Haiti

Gerson Alexis's Lecture en Anthropologie Haitienne, a book we randomly encountered at a library today, includes the ethnologue's Notes on the Haitian Mandingues, in French and a slightly different English translation. Supposedly part of an unpublished manuscript, all we have, sadly, are the notes. While Alexis acknowledged the tentative nature of some of his conclusions of his study of the Mandingue cult in Morne Rouge, in Plaine du Nord, some of his conceptualizing of the community he observed struck as bizarre. Indeed, when one reads of this syncretic religious community, perhaps about 1000 people in Balan and a few nearby areas, one reaches the conclusion that this cult perhaps represents what Haitian Vodou was actually like in the 19th century. Indeed, after reading Duverneau Trouillot's ethnographic observations, from the late 19th century, one can see that "Vodou" in those days often revolved around African "nations" with particular rites, taboos, and customs. But over time, some of these distinctions were lost as the Africans and their Creole descendants became Haitian. The intriguing thing about the Mandingues of Morne Rouge, however, is that their distinctive practices and claim to a Mandingue ancestry persisted so late into the 20th century. 

To explain what we mean, consider Alexis's observation of congo, yanvalou and djuba rhythms in the Mandingue ceremonies. He seems to conclude that the Mandingue, perhaps due to their ancient Islamic influences and medieval empires, were culturally "advanced" and influenced the other "nations" of Africans in Saint Domingue/Haiti. Due to their allegedly advanced state, these Mandingues influenced other Africans in Saint Domingue. In fact, Alexis goes so far as to suggest words like mambo and houngan actually come from the Mandingue! However, yanvalou actually comes from Benin and the other rhythms noted by Alexis likely derive from other regions of West and Central Africa. Vodou terms such as houngan and many other aspects of the religion clearly owe more to other parts of West Africa, too. It is far more likely that the Mandingue cult observed by Alexis in 1967 had already been heavily influenced by the same forces that shaped the development of Haitian culture and Vodou. This would explain why Alexis observed rhythms from other traditions in the Mandingue ceremonies or "ordonnances." Indeed, this has to be the case since the "Mandingues" observed by Alexis are scarcely different from the other peasants in the area. In addition, while most of their members were descendants of past members claiming Mandingue lineage, new members could join the community through initiation. This process, in addition to the shared general culture of the region, might explain the appearance of rhythms from other traditions. 

But let us revisit the distinct features of the Mandingues. According to Alexis, the members of the community possessed a strong group consciousness, reinforced through ritual communion and a pact with degue, a type of rice flour with cane syrup. The members of the community claim African authenticity and distinguish themselves from the Canari dances and Vodou. They even claim to be members of the Society of King Mahomet! Unfortunately, the way Mahomet's name is transcribed by Alexis is somewhat ambiguous (MA-RO-MET) but it is probably the Prophet Muhammad of Islamic tradition. Besides referring to Muhammad, the Mandingue believe in a Supreme Being, sometimes associated with the Sun. Their cult is oriented to the adoration of this Creator being and their ancestors. In their prayers, they address Allah, Moussa (Missa?), and Mahomet. Moreover, their rituals take place at two times: dawn or early morning and in the evening. These meetings take place after a member dies, to commemorate the dead. These ceremonies, per Alexis, are called fran-gan-dan-man. 

A Mandingue Muslim wrote the above in 1773 in Leogane.

The leader of the Mandingue community is called mori. According to Alexis's Liberian informant, mori means "patriarch" among in Bambara and Malinke. However, mori is used by the Bambara to refer to Islamic diviners, something closer to the function of the mori among the Haitian Mandingue. By the time Alexis wrote his study, the Mandingue had only 1 mori, Barthelemy Exhalus, son of Exhalus Medard, the previous mori. It is probable that the position of mori was passed down from father to son, though Alexis does not provide evidence to prove it. This would fit, however, Vodou of the past in which the position of houngan was often passed down within the family. As for the Haitian mori, his main function is to communicate with the great Spirit through dreams and serve as a depository of the cult secrets. He understands the messages of the dead, who possess members of the community during ceremonies. Through prayer, song, dance, and sacrifices, to this Great Spirit and ancestors, members can be possessed. Perhaps as a remnant of their Islamic past, offerings excluded pigs (according to the English version). These spirits of ancestors, or zanges (anges) were never called lwa. Much like Haitian Vodou as we commonly know it, the mori used Catholic prayers in ceremonies. Their music, including a dance called Ronde du Mort, featured rhythms familiar to Alexis through other parts of Haitian culture. Unlike other Haitians, the Mandingue mori sang an incantation to Allah. Relying heavily on Balenghien, Alexis interpted one song as a deformation of the Islamic Shahada: Bi si mian y mi alahum- a ki baou Assa dan ila-a ilala. Elsewhere, the mori said Missa, Man-n Ma De, which is interpreted as Missa (Moses, or Musa) and Mamadu (Muhammad). 

To his credit, Alexis consulted specialists of Malian and West African languages and cultures. He relied heavily on a priest, Balenghien, who directed a center for the study of African languages at Taldye, Mali for confirmation of his theories. For instance, the burial practices of the Mandingue of Haiti included placing the corpse in a L-shaped hole, covering the body to prevent contact with the ground. According to Alexis's informant in Mali, the Bambara have similar customs. For identifying the Shahada in the incantations of Barthelemy Exhalus, he also relied on this Mali-based informant. In what may even be a possible reference to past Mandingue kings, Alexis saw a reference to a great Mandingo who introduced Islam when members of the Mandingue society claimed descent from the family of "Popotte Moussa." We, on the other hand, are inclined to think this "Popotte Moussa" may have been a prominent local "Mandingue" in the 19th century. 

Overall, the evidence suggests the persistence and survival of a strong Mandingue identity well into the 20th century in this part of Haiti. That they were influenced by Islam can be seen in the title mori, allusions to Muhammad, and that their religious ceremonies only commemorate the Creator (Allah?) and the souls of ancestors. Since they participated in the everyday rural culture of Morne Rouge, their religious ceremonies unsurprisingly acquired many traits of other contributions to Haitian culture. But Alexis's great contribution is in identifying the survival of one religious community in Haiti that preserved such a distinct, Islamic-influenced tradition. One must assume a sufficient number of Mandingue and West African Muslim captives were in the area so that the community did not die. Unlike, say, the Fulani and Borno Muslims described by Descourtilz, these Mandingue persisted well into the 1900s. Their willingness to accept new members through initiation and the custom of shared veneration of ancestors must have attracted Haitians from other traditions.

Yohannes and Gondar

Although the Gondarine era of the Solomonic Dynasty has long been an area of interest, we are only recently digging into more of the European translations of primary sources from that era. In this case, Guidi's French translation of the chronicle of Yohannes, who reigned from 1667 to 1682, serves as a brief introduction to royal chronicles from this era in Ethiopian history. The son of Fasiladas, a number of important events and developments occurred during the reign of Yohannes. Yohannes, for example, finally expelled the "Franks" or remnants of the Luso-Ethiopian population. Perhaps to maintain the image of the Emperor as just, pious, and peace-loving, the chronicler attributes the expulsion to agitation among the mons of Ethiopia. Thus, decades after the end of the Jesuit mission, the legacy of religious strife and conflict with Roman Catholicism lingered in Ethiopia's monastic circles. As for the remnants of the "Franks" in Ethiopia, they were marched toward Sennar, in today's Sudan, and their firearms were supposedly kept by the Ethiopians. Only those who converted to Ethiopian Christianity were allowed to stay. Franks who came to Ethiopia to promote Roman Catholicism were even executed, as happened to "Franks" who endeavored to pass as Egyptians. Yohannes also decreed residential segregation, forcing Muslims, Falasha and Turks to live in separate quarters or areas instead of cohabiting the same quarters as Christians. To what extent this was actually implemented across the kingdom is unclear. 

The son of Fasiladas also attempted to unify the Church through councils that promoted a single view on the nature of Christ and the Trinity. These theological disputes and debates led to the development of "heretics" in Lasta who opposed Yohannes. In addition, the "pagan" Agaw rebelled against the Solomonic authority while occasional rebellions, Oromo attacks, "Paysan" revolts, conspiracies from members of the royal family and monk rebels threatened royal authority. Interestingly, the chronicler of Yohannes mentions the strategic practice of deforestation to clear paths and subdue Agaw rebels. In addition, Yohannes used his authority and court-affiliated Church leaders to promote unity in religious doctrine and attempt to reunify the state. Indeed, it was quite amazing how Yohannes managed to find enough time to spend the rainy season in Gondar after so much time in most years of his reign campaigning across the empire. In fact, one of the rebels, Fares, even invited the ruler of Adal to help dethrone Yohannes. Certain iniquitous persons in Gondar even promoted discord between Yohannes and his future successor, Iyasu I. 

Since the chronicle is written from an official standpoint, and must, to a certain extent, only record what the emperor or his successor would have allowed to be written, one must look at other types of sources to assist with the reconstruction of Solomonic Ethiopia under Yohannes. For example, looking to Egyptian, Funj, Ottoman, Portuguese, and other sources certainly elucidates aspects of this era hidden or peripheral to the interests of royal chronicles. Since the chronicles also very much depict the ruler as a legitimate heir to Solomon and ruling in accordance with Christian principles, Yohannes emerges as a just, generous, wise, capable, God-fearing man with few or no faults. One must wonder if he really was not the driving force behind the incarceration of his siblings when he acceded to the throne. Likewise, one must wonder about the conflicts between him and his son, or for that matter, between him and some of the peoples against whom he campaigned throughout his time on the throne. Nonetheless, his ability to maintain some degree of stability after the foundations established by Fasiladas is a testament to his capability to reign effectively. Unfortunately for him, it seems that Ethiopian Christianity, perhaps due to the recent controversies and conflict with the Jesuits, was set on course for more internal conflicts which contributed to the weakening of royal authority. As long as the Gondar-period rulers were competent, some degree of balance could be maintained between the various warring segments of the Church, state, and provinces. When that was lost, all centrifugal tendencies were intensified.