Philomé Obin

 

A very well-made video presentation from AyiboPost on my favorite Haitian painter. Obin's so-called naive style and detailed historical paintings capture not only the distinctive regional patrimony of the Nord but represent Haiti well. I am also intrigued his and the Cap-Haitien school's subject matter: historic paintings, cultural scenes of capois or northern Haitian life, and, from what I can tell, hardly any of the folkloric of vaudouesque scenes of Hector Hyppolite or other Haitian painters of Obin's generation.

Manha da Carnaval

 

A recent bossa nova obsession has increased my interest in various interpretations of various classics. Kenny Dorham's "Una Mas" is a classic, but this live performance of "Manha da Carnaval" is "cooking." The band even occasionally drops the samba rhythm for a more straightforward swing, but everything comes together brilliantly.

Romans in "Sub-Saharan Africa"

 

Although scholars still debate the nature and scale of trans-Saharan trade and contacts in antiquity, one cannot help but wonder. Surely, the Garamantes were engaged in contacts with groups both within and south of the Sahara, but what about others? Was Agisymba in the Lake Chad region? If so, what does it suggest about the possible origins of long-distance trade before Kanem in the "Central Sudan" region? Was the Meroitic state also a player here, perhaps trading goods of Mediterranean origin to lands further west?

Amerindian Presence in Saint Domingue

Grand Soleil, leader of the Natchez people. Their chief, also known as St. Cosme, was sold into slavery in Saint Domingue in the 1730s with 100s of his people. 

One topic that occasionally resurfaces is the theme of the indigenous past in Haitian history and literature. While the symbolism of the Taino or the indigenous past is worthy of research as a topic of its own merit, it is also interesting to consider French Saint Domingue's historically-documented "Indian" populations from the insular Caribbean and North and South America. These groups, rather than the Taino, were historically relevant and, arguably, significant in the early days of French settlement in Tortuga and Hispaniola. Indeed, during the time of the buccaneers and the frontier-like conditions of early Saint Domingue, indigenous peoples from the Caribbean and other lands were an important presence among the enslaved population and as trading partners of the French. By this era, the 17th century and early 18th century, there were no more indigenous Taino "Indians" on the island, unless one counts "mixed-race" descendants of Indians in corners of Spanish Santo Domingo. The village of Boya, for instance, was alleged by 18th century French and 19th century Haitian sources to have been founded as an Indian village in the 1500s, although none of its residents were "pure" Taino. Some 19th century Haitian authors such as Thomas Madiou and Emile Nau also admitted a degree of aboriginal ancestry among the Dominican population, but not for the Haitian population. Of course, that does not stop some more absurd manifestations of Taino revivalism from exaggerating Taino cultural traces in today's Haitians.

As for the indigenous populations of the island and Haiti, there seems to be very little evidence of any connection between modern Haitians and the precolonial inhabitants of the island. The "Indiens" of Saint Domingue appear to have come from Caribs, the Guianas, Louisiana, North America, and the Yucatan. To reiterate, by the time of the French presence in the 17th century, there were no more Taino groups on the island. Besides possible influence via Spanish Santo Domingo and today's Dominican Republic, one must look to the diverse "Indien" populations of the French colonial population. This makes it very unlikely that "Tainos" had any significant influence on Haitian culture, religion, and folklore, despite what one may find in Haitian literature or intellectual thought (Nau, Alexis, Beauvoir-Dominique). However, there very well could be influences from non-Taino populations in Saint Domingue, which is a topic of interest in its own right. This may explain some of the alleged "Amerindian" aspects to Haitian culture more than any far-fetched theory of cultural continuity from the pre-Columbian population of the island to modern Haitians.

Runaway ad for Joseph, a Carib. Caribs continued to appear in runaway slave ads and were imported to Saint Domingue. Even when held in low regard as captives, they continued to be exploited as chattel throughout the 18th century.

So, where does one begin with the "Indien" presence of Saint Domingue? One must go back to the origins of French colonization of the Caribbean, particularly St. Christophe and the Lesser Antilles. The French encountered "Carib" groups who were still autonomous, and occasionally a threat to Spanish and European settlements in the region. In their interactions with Caribs, the Dutch, English and enslaved Africans, the seeds of the French Antilles were planted. It was probably there, during the 17th century, that early French lexical Creoles evolved. By the second half of the 17th century, a French presence was asserting itself in Tortuga and northern Saint Domingue, propelled by expulsions from St. Christophe. According to 18th century Saint Domingue sources, many of the affranchi families claimed descent from "Indian" women and French men who left St. Christophe. Whether or not that was actually true is another question, but the French and English did interact with the Caribs in St. Christophe before slaughtering them. It is also likely the case that, due to the paucity of European women, some French married "Indian" women. Moreover, among the French and other Europeans in Tortuga were Caribs and "Indian" slaves. Indeed, in 1653, the number of "Indian" slaves was higher than those of Africans in Tortuga. "Indian" slaves from the Caribs and other groups were also acquired through raids on Spanish territories. One expedition to the Yucatan in the late 1600s brought several indigenous women to the southern part of Saint Domingue, where most ended up as wives to Frenchmen. Thus, "Indians" were, in the early period of French colonization, a significant part of the captive population while "Indian" women were probably represented among the mothers of "mixed-race" people in the colony's southern regions.

A woman departing for France listed an Indian women for sale, alongside two others of African descent, in her advertisement posted in the main Saint Domingue newspaper. The "Indienne" woman is said to have domestic skills many Indian women in the colony were employed for. She could also have been of "East Indian" origin, but Moreau de Saint-Mery mentioned the common use of "Amerindian" women for domestic labor.

"Indians" were not only captives to the French, but traders and fellow participants in French raids on Spanish colonies. The 17th century competition for Caribbean colonies among the European powers in the region led to conditions favorable for trading relations that may have created opportunities for various "Indian" groups to play Europeans against each other. For instance, 3 Indian chiefs from the Gulf of Darien, whose subjects had cooperated with French raids against Spanish colonies, were treated as guests of honor by the governor of Saint Domingue in Leogane. In 1701, a Pedre, chief of the Sambres, was also received by the interim governor in Leogane, suggesting trade relations that were still important. That "Indian" chiefs were honored guests to the political establishment of the colony in the late 17th century is a testament to trade links and raiding partnerships between French and "Indians" in the circum-Caribbean region. Indeed, Caribs and other "Indian" populations sold African or "Indian" slaves to the French, angering the monopoly company established by the French government to provide African slaves to Saint Domingue. This suggests that in those early frontier-like days of Saint Domingue, before plantation slavery was firmly entrenched and the shift to sugar and coffee plantations began, the French colony partly relied on partnerships and relations with indigenous populations in the region. Through their trading partnerships with "Indian" groups and other populations, they procured slaves, supplies, and relationships that likely profited both sides, at least initially. The "Indian" captives probably worked as domestics and, perhaps, alongside indentured French workers and African slaves on tobacco plantations in the 1600s.

Free people of "Indian" descent sometimes appeared in the newspapers. Marie-Magdelaine Nicole, for instance, is listed as a "mestive libre," and was tied to a merchant in Le Cap. While "mestives" (which was perhaps more ambiguous as a racial category than one might suspect) may not always connote "Amerindian" heritage, it often did. 

However, the transition to plantation slavery and the reliance on enslaved Africans altered the nature of "Amerindian" relations with French Saint Domingue. Tied to this process is French colonialism in Louisiana, Guyane, and Canada, as wars between the French and various native groups occasionally led to their enslavement. Or, as in the case of North America, the English colonies also sold Native Americans to the French. One particularly noticeable example occurred in the 1730s, when an estimated 500 Natchez were sold to Saint Domingue after losing a war with the French. While Indians were probably never more than a tiny minority of the enslaved population in 18th century Saint Domingue (Geggus suggests that the combined population of "Amerindian" and "East Indian" slaves in Saint Domingue was less than 1% of the total by the late 1700s), their presence shaped colonial definitions of race and inclusion. One cannot discount the possibility that they were more numerous among the free people of color, too.

 

According to Moreau de Saint-Mery, "Amerindian" slaves in the colony hailed from the "sauvages" of South America, Mississippi, the Fox and others in North America, and Caribs. While a Creole proverb would suggest Caribs were not seen as "good" slaves, a number of them appear in runaway slave ads. A few were identified as "mulatto" or mixed-race, and it is likely that Caribs were transported to Saint Domingue from other French colonies within the Caribbean, or perhaps the product of conflicts between independent Carib groups in the Lesser Antilles with the French. Indian women and children from Louisiana and North America were sometimes, per Moreau de Saint-Mery, brought by the English, and often employed as domestics. The English, it must be remembered, engaged in active slave trading of indigenous people in North America, often shipping them to colonies in the Caribbean. French Louisiana, according to Gwendolyn Midlo Hall, also engaged in a small-scale trade of Indian captives for African or black slaves, following English practices. It was probably an ongoing trade for much of the 1700s as French settlers in Louisiana expressed an interest in acquiring African slaves. The trade was common enough to the point that, as Jack Forbes cites, a Spanish ship of Santo Domingo intercepted a French vessel carrying Indians to Saint Domingue in the 1750s. Unfortunately for those interested in studying the "Indians" of Saint Domingue, quantifying the total  number of Indians in Saint Domingue from the initial French presence to the Haitian Revolution is extremely difficult. Colonial censuses stopped including them as a separate population group after 1713. Geggus's important article, "The Naming of Haiti", cites a 1681 Census that found 480 "mulattoes" and Indians, all enslaved. In 1631, the South of Saint Domingue had 128 Indians, but only 83 in 1713. The disappearing Indians probably merged into the general free people of color category.

 

Yota, a young Carib maroon, was only around 14 years old. His owner was a minister in Le Cap.

Moreau de Saint-Mery offers additional some hints, claiming there were more than 300 "Sauvages" and Indians enslaved in Saint Domingue at the beginning of the 1700s. Around 500 Natchez were sent to the colony in the 1730s, but how many actually survived the voyage is unclear. Some of their survivors lived on in the colony's chief city, today's Cap-Haitien. A study of 3 parishes by Jacques Houdaille, focusing on Jacmel, Cayes-de-Jacmel, and Fond-des Negres, found "Indiens" to have comprised 1.3% of legitimate births, 0.3% for illegitimate. Houdaille's study also claimed Indians from Yucatan and Veracruz were in the colony prior to 1700, probably a reference to Indian women from a 1685 raid. Some of the "Indiens" he located were apparently from Aruba, suggesting that there may have been a smuggling of small numbers of Indians from other parts of the region to the southern coast. For the captives from the French colony in South America, enslavement of Arouas, Palicours, Courarys was practiced, but on a small scale. Consequently, any trade of indigenous South Americans to Saint Domingue would have probably been a tiny proportion of the total Indien slave population in Guyane, which was always small. In short, a clear indication of their numbers is unavailable, but they were relatively important in the 1600s before becoming numerically negligible in the 18th century.

Indiens also appear in the parish records of Saint Domingue, such as Marie Louise, whose death was recorded in Baynet. A systematic study of each parish would likely reveal much more about the numbers and social relations of "Indiens" in Saint Domingue.

What can be said of the "Indien" presence in Saint Domingue? Occupational profiles, race relations, legacies, and other concerns remain somewhat speculative. Enslaved women may have been used primarily as domestics, and are sometimes advertised as such in newspapers. Males may have been servants, plantation workers, fishermen, cooks, or barbers. The runaway slave ads point to urban and plantation settings, suggesting they were used in both types of environments. How enslaved Indians got along with African slaves is unknown, but Contant d'Orville suggested an antipathy between Caribs and blacks in the French Caribbean. It is also clear that free people of color attempted to claim Indien descent to justify their claims to titles or political rights of whites in the second half of the 18th century. According to Hiliard d'Auberteuil, the "mixed-bloods" claimed descent from "Indians" in St. Christophe, who came to Saint Domingue in 1640. Garrigus, in Before Haiti, uncovers examples of free people of color families like the Gelée  in Les Cayes, who requested the Port-au-Prince council confirm his letters of nobility, claiming Indian descent rather than African. Clearly, by 1767, the French official position viewed Indians as "born free", unlike those of African descent. Indians, if not "stained" by African ancestry, were supposedly able to enjoy the rights of whites as assimilated peoples. And like free people of African descent, examples of "Indien" slaveholders can be found in at least one of the runaway slave ads, posted by a Roesayro, Mulatto Indian of Dondon. 

 

Like other free people of color, the "Mulatto Indian" Roesayro owned slaves. In this case, his "Senegalese" slave, Pierre, ran away.

The relationship of the "Indiens" to the free people of color population might be the best way to consider the "Indien" presence. As groups in between the enslaved majority and the white colonial population, it is not unlikely that the two often mingled, married, and combined their resources. It is possible that some may have strategically chosen Indian partners to facilitate their claims to rights increasingly taken away from those of African descent in the 1760s and 1770s. Some prominent families among the affranchis who also claimed Indien descent from St. Christophe or perhaps the early foundations of the colony were probably telling the truth in some cases. Thomas Madiou, prominent Haitian historian, also claimed an Indien ancestor in his autobiography. His mother was, according to him, the daughter of a woman of the Indien race from Le Cap. Historian Jean Fouchard found evidence of "Indian" descent among free people of color, using the example of the Dartigue family. Last, but certainly not least, relations between free people of African and "Indien" origin might explain the bizarre assertion of Amerindian ancestry Redpath assigned to President Geffrard in his Guide to Hayti. One should not be surprised if more than a few free people of color, particularly in the South of the colony, descend, in part, from Indians. It is also possible that certain names among Haitians after independence suggest "Indien" origin. The example of Benjamin Indien from Port-au-Prince in 1849 may very well reflect an "Indien" background or ancestry. 

 

After Haitian independence, one would assume formerly enslaved Indiens and free people of color of Indian origins probably stayed in the colony. Those who left may have returned from the US, France, and other lands later in the 19th century. Knowing that there was a small "Indien" population in Haiti on the eve of independence may help explain why "Indiens" were included in Haitian citizenship for various constitutions. Indeed, it could help explain why the indigenous name of the island was chosen to rename Saint Domingue. As for "Indiens" who immigrated after independence, I have yet to encounter any examples besides Benjamin Fruneau (whose mother was "East Indian). However, it is very likely that some of the African Americans who came to Haiti in the 1820s and 1860s included people of Native descent. As for "Indien" survival in Haiti after 1804, some of the more absurd theorists have even proposed sites where "Indiens" survived in isolated parts of the country. But Aristide Achille's study of the problem of Indian cultural survival in Haiti has pointed out the lack of evidence for assertions by Louis Emile Elie of Indian survival in the caves of the Grand Riviere du Nord, the "Vien-Viens" of Saltrou, habitation Lamarque in Kenscoff, and habitations Lebrun and Poulardier in Petit-Goave. It could very well be the case that some of the populations in those areas may descend, in part, from "Indien" slaves of the colonial period, but they are very unlikely to have any connection to the Taino.

 

Perhaps a testament to the loosely defined "races" in Saint Domingue, examples of runaway slaves who called themselves "Indien" appear. In this example, Francois is identified as a "Mulatto" by his owner, yet he calls himself Indian. Note that he is also described as having long, dark hair, perhaps making it easier for him to claim an "Indian" origin. It is possible that enslaved people were well aware of the legal rights of "free" Indians under French law, and may have, like free people of color, claimed it in their own interests.

Overall, the evidence for significant Taino influences and legacies in Haiti appear unfounded, or marginal at best. The story of the non-Taino Indians in Saint Domingue, however, was relevant to the history of the colony, slave trade networks, and conceptualization of race and differential status for free people of color. Although a clear understanding of their total numbers remains elusive, it is clear that Indians from other parts of the Americas were important to the colony in the 17th and 18th centuries. Their presence among the captive population and free people of color influenced the discourse of race and political rights. "Amerindian" people likely contributed to the formation of the free people of color group, whose role in the destabilizing of Saint Domingue and its racial logic cannot be forgotten.  Despite their small numbers, they may have also influenced Haitian religion, cuisine, language, and culture in ways not legible today. Considering the fact they actually interacted with the enslaved and free people of color of Saint Domingue, unlike the Tainos, any understanding of Native American influences on Haiti probably owes more to them than any alleged cultural tie to the Taino.

 

Bibliography

Adélaïde-Merlande, J. (1995). Madiou, historien d’Haïti. Bulletin de la Sociétéd'Histoire de la Guadeloupe, (106), 12–22. https://doi.org/10.7202/1043280ar

Aristide, Achille, « le Problème de l'Indien et de ses survivances en Haïti », dans Bulletin du Bureau d'ethnologie, série 11, n° 13, Port-au-Prince, Imprimerie de l'Etat, 1956, p. 32-40. 

d'Orville, Contant. Histoire des différens peuples du monde, contenant les cérémonies religieuses et civiles, l'origine des religions, leurs sectes & superstitions, & les moeurs & usages de chacque nation ... par m. Contant Dorville. Paris: Herissant fils], 1770.

Forbes, Jack D. Africans and Native Americans: The Language of Race and the Evolution of Red-Black Peoples. 2nd ed. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993.

Fouchard, Jean. The Haitian Maroons: Liberty or Death. New York, N.Y.: E.W. Blyden Press, 1981. 

 

Gallay, Alan. The Indian Slave Trade: The Rise of the English Empire in the American South, 1670-1717. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002.

 

Garrigus, John D. Before Haiti: Race and Citizenship in French Saint-Domingue. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

 

Geggus, David. "The Naming Of Haiti." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 71, no. 1/2 (1997): 43-68. Accessed November 4, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41849817

Hall, Gwendolyn Midlo. Africans in Colonial Louisiana: The Development of Afro-Creole Culture in the Eighteenth Century. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992. 

Hilliard d'Auberteuil, Michel-René. Considérations Sur L'état Présent De La Colonie Française De Saint-Domingue: Ouvrage Politique Et Législatif, Présenté Au Ministre De La Marine. Paris: Grangé, 1976.

Houdaille, Jacques. "Quelques données sur la population de Saint-Domingue au XVIIIe Siècle." Population (French Edition) 28, no. 4/5 (1973): 859-72. Accessed November 11, 2020. doi:10.2307/1531260.

 

____. "Trois Paroisses De Saint-Domingue Au XVIIIe Siècle. Étude Démographique." Population (French Edition) 18, no. 1 (1963): 93-110. Accessed November 19, 2020. doi:10.2307/1527351.

 

Hrodej, Philippe. L'esclave et les plantations : de l'établissement de la servitude à son abolition : hommage à Pierre Pluchon. Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2008.

Marchand-Thébault. "L'esclavage en Guyane française sous l'ancien régime". Outre Revue française d'histoire d'outre-mer 47, no. 166 (1960): 5–75.

McClellan, James E. (James Edward). Colonialism and Science: Saint Domingue in the Old Regime. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. 

 

Moreau de Saint-Méry, Méderic Louis Élie. Description topographique, physique, civile, politique et historique de la partie françoise de l'isle Saint-Domingue. 3 vols. Philadelphia:  1797.

 

Nau, Emile. Histoire Des Caciques D'Haïti. 2. éd. publiée avec l'autorisation des héritiers de l'auteur par Ducis Viard. Paris: G. Guérin, 1894.

Peytraud, Lucien Pierre. L'esclavage Aux Antilles Françaises Avant 1789: D'après Des Documents Inédits Des Archives Coloniales. Paris: Hachette, 1897.

Redpath, James. A Guide to Hayti. Boston: Haytian bureau of emigration, 1861.

ROGERS, Dominique. "Raciser la Société: Un Projet administratif pour une société domingoise complexe (1760-1791)." Journal De La Société Des Américanistes 95, no. 2 (2009): 235-60. Accessed November 1, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24606684.

 

Roux, Benoît. "Les Indiens caraïbes, acteurs et objets de traite aux Antilles françaises (XVIIe-XVIIIe siècle)." Cahiers d'Histoire de l'Amérique Coloniale, L'Harmattan, 2012, pp.187-188. ⟨halshs-01015141⟩

 

Rushforth, Brett.  Bonds of Alliance: Indigenous and Atlantic Slaveries in New France. Chapel Hill : Williamsburg, Va.: University of North Carolina Press, 2012.

Hó Bá Lá Lá

 

Two minutes of pure bliss from a classic of bossa nova.

Funj Sultanate

Short video with mostly irrelevant pictures on the Funj Sultanate. As this state took over the former lands of Alwa and Nubian kingdoms, it has captured my attention. It also appears to have attracted pilgrims en route to Mecca from West Africa, as well as caravans traversing "Sudanic" Africa east and west.

Mutapa (Monomotapa)

I believe it was Charlevoix who mentioned the presence of "Monomotapa" Africans in Saint Domingue. He seemed to think it was best that they were no longer brought to Saint Domingue after the early period of the slave trade to the colony. Either way, they, and numerous other peoples of southeastern Africa, contributed to the making of the Haitian people. This brief video does a nice job introducing the "Monomotapa" state and its social and economic structure.

Christianity in Nubia

Although most of my recent interest in Africa is connected to its relevance to the making of the Haitian people, I have become obsessed with Nubia. Always overlooked, forgotten, dismissed or incorrectly seen as peripheral to Ancient Egypt (except for the "infamous" Black Pharaohs of the 25th dynasty), the Nubian region deserves serious attention. A decentering of Egypt from the discussion of ancient Nile peoples and cultures is well overdue, and should lead to a reconsideration of the significance of Nubia. Personally, I am most interested in the Meroitic period and the era of the Christian kingdoms of Nobadia, Makuria and Alodia. The story of Christianity in Africa is fascinating, and we always forget that Christianity was once a major religion in Sudan.

Fig Leaf Rag

Nothing beats the elegant, stately ragtime of Scott Joplin. He manages to be a savant without the lifeless quality in some of his fellow Classic Ragtime composers (James Scott and Joseph Lamb).

Kanem and the East?

 I have become obsessed with the question of east-west trade and cultural contacts in Sudanic Africa. After all, why wouldn't there have been contact of some sort between Nubia and the lands further west, especially in the Darfur, Kordofan, and Chad regions? From what I can tell, the most fervent proponent of theories connecting ancient Nubian civilizations with lands to the west was Arkell, who relied on inconclusive evidence and problematic assumptions. Sure, there may have been pottery at Chad sites that kind of resembles Meroitic pottery, but until archaeologists uncover more evidence (like obviously Meroitic or Christian Nubian items), the theory of east-west contacts and diffusion remains uncertain. Certainly, the eventual deciphering of the Meroitic language might reveal something about the nature of the Middle Nile's contacts with peoples to the west, just as additional excavations in Darfur and the Kordofan could reveal new connections.

How about after the fall of Meroe, particularly during the period of Christian kingdoms in Nubia? While Nubian and local Kanem-Borno sources seem to indicate no connections, a perusal of Vantini's collection of  Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia do suggest possible trade and conflicts between Christian Nubia and the lands to their west. Unfortunately, most of the Arabic sources on Kanem, and all the lands between Lake Chad and the Nile are confused, ambiguous, or contradictory. It does not help that Kanem's origins, apparently first ruled by "Zaghawa" peoples, are not very detailed in the various 8th-11th century sources. Early Arabic sources mentioning the "Zaghawa" and Kanem associate the two, although Kanem was already identified as multiethnic and consisting of agriculturalists and pastoralists. Early sources point to the lack of towns until the 900s, when Manan and perhaps Tarazaki are mentioned as "Kanem" or "Zaghawa" towns. It is described as a vast kingdom, in between Gao to the west and the lands of the Nuba (Nubians) to the east. By the 1100s, the "Zaghawa" are separated from Kanem by al-Idrisi, who suggests the Zaghawa now ruled a kingdom between Kanem and Nubia. In al-Idrisi's confusing account, the Zaghawa and another population (Tajuwa) are described as bordering Nubia, and al-Idrisi mentions a Nubian attack on a town of the Tajuwa people. His brief account also suggests the "Zaghawa" vassal state of Kanem produced handicrafts and included several well-populated villages. Other sources preceding al-Idrisi claimed the Zaghawa were fighting the Nubians (al-Masudi). 

If true, this indicates that the western extent of the Nubian states may have reached the Darfur area and the Kordofan. There may have been an interest on the part of Nubian states to pursue western trade routes that might have connected them to Kanem and, perhaps, the Maghreb. The Arabic sources on Kanem from the 8th-13th century point to stronger trade ties with lands to their north (through the Kawar and Fezzan, with Ibadite Berbers) than their east, though they are also somewhat vague about the rise of trade networks, towns, and possible regional trade. Furthermore, it is possible Arabic sources would not mention Nubian trade with the Zaghawa and Kanem if their trade routes were rarely traversed by North Africans or Arabs. Yet cryptic references to "black" Christians in the lands between Kanem and Nubia also suggest possible ties to Nubia, although the "Bakarmi" Christians may have been descendants of a group converted to Christianity around the same time as the Garamantes in the 6th century. Furthermore, the Bakarmi are described as being Muslim if residing by Kanem, pagan if neighboring the Zaghawa, and Christian when bordering Nubia, suggesting that they were a population under various influences from their western and eastern neighbors.

The best early source on the full extent of Kanem can be found in the 13th century account of Ibn Said al-Andalusi. He relies on the work of a Ibn Fatima who visited Kanem during the reign of Dunama, an expansionist king seen as promoting Islam and expanding the power of Kanem. If Ibn Said's account is accurate, Kanem possessed several towns around Lake Chad, dominated the Kawar oasis (the Diwan of Kanem mentions previous Kanem kings sending slave colonies to the region in the 1000s, perhaps to exploit salt mining?), and the king even possessed gardens near the capital, Njimi, with sugarcane plantations. He is described as ruling over various Saharan and Sahelian regions, including Berber subjects who were slaves of the king. Of course, by the 13th century, the kings of Kanem had been Muslim for generations, even predating the Sefuwa dynasty which replaced the "Duguwa" ("Zaghawa") rulers of early Kanem. Arabic accounts suggest a great degree of continuity in kingship, particularly in the "divine" powers or attributes of the mais of Kanem. Such "divine" features of Kanem kingship carried on well into the Bornu successor state/empire, too. If one were a diffusionist, one could try to attribute this to the influence of Meroe and ancient Nubia in the Chad region. Of course, there is no evidence for that, and the earliest date one could claim for Kanem's foundation would probably be the 7th century, centuries after the fall of Meroe. It is unlikely that "Zaghawa" and Teda or Tubu nomads in the Libyan Sahara or Chad region were connected to Meroe, but Ibn Said does claim the kings of Kanem migrated from the Nile. One must read that with caution, however, as medieval Islamic geographers connected the Nile to the Niger in West Africa, believing it ran from the Senegal and Niger rivers through Kanem before reaching Nubia and Egypt.

Based on the 13th century description of Kanem, it is clear the empire had already achieved some degree of a strong regional economy with control of Saharan salt deposits, southern Saharan trade routes, and a strong agricultural base in the lands to the south. They also had "pagan" enemies on the southern shores of Lake Chad and other lands to raid for spoils and captives to trade to their northern (and eastern?) partners. They were clearly trading with North Africa and Egypt, so why not Nubia? Trade routes through the east, particularly if the "Zaghawa" were still subjects, would have provided access to goods from Egypt, the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean. The east could have also provided horses, luxury goods, glassware, textiles, precious stones, and cowries, the last being used as currency in Kanem by the 1300s. If the east-west trade routes could be secured in the lands between Kanem and Nubia, and prices were lower than paying for the added costs of distribution across the Sahara, why not pursue that? I suppose the importance Kanem attached to northern expansion into the Sahara during the 1200s suggests that was a likely focus of their monarchs, but an eastern trade route would have been a wise pursuit to have alternative access to Egyptian, Indian, Middle Eastern, and Asian commodities.

So, what would Nubia have received in return from trade with Kanem and lands to their west and southwest? It seems historians still have much work to do to uncover the nature of trade in medieval Nubia, making it difficult to come to any clear idea. However, Arabic sources point to large towns and trading centers connecting Nubia with Ethiopia, Egypt, the Beja (between Nubia and the Red Sea ports of Aydhab and Suakin) and lands to their west. There may have been a trade route connecting Alwa to trans-Saharan trade with the Maghreb, too. Enigmatic references to monasteries, Nubian settlements west of the Nile, and subject peoples (highlanders) in lands further west suggest the Christian states of Makuria and Alwa may have bordered the "Zaghawa" at various moments. Conflicts probably arose, but it is possible the Zaghawa may have seen an opportunity to engage in trade, perhaps exchanging captives, ivory, or even goods from the Maghreb for Nubian textiles, ceramics, foodstuffs, or Asian products. 

Kanem and its affiliated tributary regions could have provided some of the slaves that the Nubian states were allegedly dependent on for trade with Egypt and the Red Sea. Muslims may have played a role as intermediaries, especially so if they had their own quarter at Soba, the capital of Alwa. Nubia may have also exported some of its architectural traditions further west, perhaps diffusing the fired-brick technology to royal towns of Kanem before the rise of the successor Borno state. Kanem would have also had contacts with Nubia through Egypt, and it is uncertain if religious differences would have made Nubia an unattractive trading partner. If anything, trade between the two spheres of influence would have connected trade routes across Sudanic Africa, and perhaps promote Kanem's central position's advantage as a source of goods acquired from the trans-Saharan trade and Asian or Middle Eastern products entering the continent from East Africa or the Red Sea. Nubia, if trade relations with the Arabs, Egyptians, Beja, and Ethiopians were harmonious (sometimes Nubians raided Beja settlements, so relations were not invariably positive), would have been a great position to connect via the Nile and overland routes, to their western neighbors. Kanem would benefit by having two trade routes leading to Asian, European, and North African commodities and manufactured products. The other question is, who arranged and managed this trade? The kings of Kanem and Nubia? Muslim merchants? Evidence from Borno by the 1500s would suggest trade routes and caravans connected it to Darfur, Sennar, and the Red Sea, but by then most of the traders would have been Muslims.

Without additional archaeological work, this remains speculative. But it might explain a facet of relations across Sudanic Africa that possibly predates or coexisted with trans-Saharan trade relations. It also begs the question of intra-Sudanic relations, cultural exchange, architectural influences, The paucity of written sources from Kanem or Borno on their relationship with the lands to their east complicates the matter. Arabic sources on early Kanem do not reveal much and only hint at conflict or contact with Christian Nubia. They also give the impression that Kanem was less wealthy and important than Gao, Ghana, and Mali. However, if there was an east-west trade route that largely excluded North Africans, they might not have been aware of its magnitude and possible impact on the 'Central Sudan.' This might have contributed to the exponential growth of Kanem in the 13th and 14th centuries, as access to Eastern goods via Nubia could have provided Kanem with trading parters to their west and south, as well as another source of horses for their important cavalry. Perhaps in the near future historians and archaeologists will uncover more evidence of these aforementioned forms of intra-African trade. It might explain pre-Islamic Mediterranean or Egyptian goods found in West Africa, as well as the use of cowrie shells from the Indian Ocean as currency in Kanem and its western neighbors. 

Asian Indians in Saint Domingue: An Early Indo-Caribbean Population

While researching the presence of indigenous peoples of the Americas in Saint Domingue, in an attempt to come to some kind of historical understanding of the relationship between "Amerindian" peoples and Haiti, one comes across numerous references to Asian Indians in the sources. Although their numbers must have been even tinier than those of free and enslaved indigenous peoples in the French colony, attempting to enumerate and study their presence in Saint Domingue highlights the global dimensions of French Empire in the 18th century. Moreover, the "East Indian" slaves and free people of color also push back the origins of the Indo-Caribbean, placing them deeper into the historical panorama of the region. This post will attempt a brief look at this minority of the captive population to see what it reveals about the nature of Saint Domingue, its heterogeneous enslaved population, and the global networks in the crown jewel of 18th century French colonialism.

Some of the best evidence for East Indian captives in Saint Domingue are newspaper advertisements for goods from ships arriving from India. Like the above, le Confiant, appearing in Affiches Americaines, East Indian slaves were probably small in number and part of a mixed cargo of various textiles, teas and goods from the East. In this case, about 40 "beaux" blacks are part of the goods for sale. It is possible some of the French ships coming from India stopped in the Mascarenes, Mozambique or Madagascar to pick up slaves or resupply before crossing the Atlantic. However, the easiest explanation is that the 40 captives on the Confiant were from India, presumably purchased in or near the French comtpoirs on the Indian coast. Indians were also sold or kidnapped from territories under English East India Company rule and put on French or Dutch ships.

First, one must begin with the origins of East Indian slaves. There is evidence that the Portuguese were already selling slaves from Goa and other regions of the subcontinent as early as the 16th century. Europeans were also bringing African or Asian slaves to serve in cities like Portuguese Goa, while also purchasing local Indians who were either sold by their families during times of famine or crisis or kidnapped by greedy local merchants. Relatively early on, Asian captives found their way to Europe and, likely, the Americas. Indeed, according to the work of Forbes, Asian Indian captives were present in Seville, Lisbon and other parts of the Iberian peninsula, alongside West African, North African, indigenous peoples from the Americas and Canary Islanders. The Dutch were also engaged in the slave trade in the East Indies, importing a large number of slaves from the coasts of India to the Cape Colony.

Runaway slave ad for a Creole Indian barber named Aly. It's very possible that Aly was not of East Indian origin, but his occupation and name may be more likely references to Asian Indians. Some Asian Indian slaves were Muslims, like the Lascars. If Aly was his chosen name then he may have been a Lascar. The fact that he is identified as being born in the colony demonstrates Asian Indian captives lived long enough to reproduce.

  

By the time the French were engaging in Indian slave trading in the 18th century, captives were purchased or kidnapped (probably both) from Bengal, Coromandel, Malabar, and sold to ships at the various French comptoirs on the coast. A few of their captives came from other parts of the subcontinent, like Goa. According to various sources, 18th century Bengal suffered from slave trading, but Malabar and Coromandel were also active ports. Bengal was particularly associated with the sale of children, often exported on Dutch and French ships. Megan Vaughan's work on Mauritius tells us Indian slaves were Lascars, Topas, Malabar, Bengali, Talinga, but there were likely other groups represented. While the French East Indian Company was primarily interested in purchasing Indian textiles and other goods, which were also sold in Africa (for more slaves) and in France and its colonies, Indian peoples were up for sale. The total numbers of Indian slaves carried on French ships was surely quite small, as the captives must have usually been part of a mixed cargo consisting of various commodities. For a reliable estimate on the estimated number of Indian captives brought by the French to their colonies in the Mascarenes, between 1670-1810, historian Richard B. Allen suggests 21,000. Not counted in that estimate is the number of free Indian artisans and sailors who went to Mauritius voluntarily, as Indian artisans were prized a a cheaper source of labor in the than European "skilled labor." By the time of the Haitian Revolution, the French slave trade in India was interrupted by war with Britain that ended large-scale slave trading from that region. Therefore, it is likely that most Indians in Saint Domingue had arrived by the early 1790s.

Runaway slave ad for Charlot, a "natif des grandes Indes." Charlot's origins in India and status as a carpenter further suggest a connection of Asian Indian captives with trades or "skilled occupations" in Saint Domingue and other French colonies.

Of course, 21,000 is a tiny number compared to the much larger quantities of captives from Africa (Mozambique, East Africa, Madagascar, and, to a lesser extent, West Africa) in the Mascarenes. Yet a significant minority of the total slave population in Mauritius and Reunion were Indians. Considering the vast distances separating Saint Domingue and India, and the intra-imperial networks connecting the Mascarenes and French slave trading networks in nearby Mozambique, the total number of East Indian captives who made it to the French Caribbean was probably a small fraction of the estimated total of 21,000. This is backed up by various advertisements in Saint Domingue newspapers of the arrival of ships from India and runaway slave advertisements for Indian maroons from Mauritius and Reunion. Most of the Indians who came on ships directly from India were part of mixed a mixed cargo with small numbers of slaves, ranging in number from as low as 16 to 40. The only possible exception to this is the case of La Cibele, identified by Richard B. Allen as a slave ship that arrived in Saint Domingue in 1778. Reaching Saint Domingue from the coasts of India, with 258 men, 49 women, 57 boys and 22 girls for sale, it must have been a particularly long and hellish voyage.  One cannot help but wonder if this ship actually picked up slaves from India then stopped to resupply in the Mascarenes before acquiring more from Mozambique or East Africa. Either way, it seems to the only example of a French slave that may have carried hundreds of Indians to Saint Domingue in a single voyage.

Sometimes, runaway slave ads specifically mention places in India that make it clear said maroon was from the East Indies, like Zamor.

 

Other sources from within Saint Domingue also suggest the East Indian presence was quite small. According to Moreau de Saint-Méry's encyclopedic tome on the colony, the "Oriental Indians" were fewer than the "Western" Indians. He also used a Creole-sounding word to designate them, zingre. Their racial mixtures with Africans in the colony, "qui sont aussi infiniment rares dans la colonie," suggests not only a small population but one that, perhaps, rarely intermarried with the African majority of the enslaved population.  In addition, David Geggus's exhaustive research on plantation inventories in Saint Domingue also point to a very small "Indien" presence, less than 1% of the total captive population. In his definition of Indian were included "Amerindians" and East Indians, and Saint-Méry has already indicated that the former outnumbered the latter. Another scholar, McClellan, estimated about 500 Indians were in Saint Domingue by the late 18th century, although this could have been mostly "Amerindian" people. Unfortunately, it does not take into account the numbers of "Indians" in Saint Domingue at various moments in the late 1600s and early 1700s, which, if one counts descendants who were "reclassified" as free people of color, makes 500 probably an underestimate. 

 

Michel, a "Mulatto Indian" from what is now Mauritius, is a perfect example of the ways in which slaves from French Indian ocean colonies were sometimes transported to the Caribbean.

 

Thus, in consideration of the above sources, this blog will suggest the total number of East Indians in Saint Domingue was likely in the hundreds, perhaps no more than 500 or 600, across the 18th century. With the exception of La Cibele in 1778, when several hundred arrived, most were likely arriving in the colony as parts of the mixed cargo of ships from India. Some may have been sold or transferred from the Mascarenes on other vessels. This small-scale trade, perhaps most consistent in the period of 1770-1793, leads one to think the total numbers of East Indians must have been low. Of course, some may have arrived on ships that also acquired slaves at Mozambique or the Swahili Coast. To what extent were Asian captives from the Mascarenes part of that traffic is unknown, but likely minimal compared to the thousands of "Mozambiques" who appear in Saint Domingue during the later decades of the 18th century. Nonetheless, all the above suggests Indians were a minuscule part of the total slave population, vastly outnumbered by hundreds of thousands of West, Central, and, increasingly, East Africans.

Etienne is identified as a black Indian creole of what is now Reunion. Clearly, at least a few East Indian slaves from the Mascarenes were sold in Saint-Domingue or brought there by the French. Some, like Etienne, were singled out for speaking French.

Now that it is established that the East Indian presence was very minimal, and probably more concentrated in Saint Domingue than other French colonies in the Antilles (perhaps the greatest concentration of East Indians in the Caribbean during the 18th century?), which the runaway slave ads seem to suggest, what can one say of their presence in the colony? Since written sources alluding to them are rare, one can look to conditions of Indian enslavement in the Masacarenes for possible hints. In the Mascarene colonies, Indians were often stereotyped as more obedient and intelligent than their Malagasy and African counterparts. And it is true that Indian slaves were often employed in trades that slaves from Madagascar and Mozambique were less likely to perform. However, the stereotypes of slaves, as provided by French planters and colonial authorities, were not always based in reality. One must also account for the differences in "national" or ethnic stereotypes that various plantation societies developed about the same groups of people. Those caveats aside, it is likely that French stereotypes in Saint Domingue of "blacks" and "Indians" from the subcontinent were similar to those of their planter counterparts in the Mascarenes, or at least influenced by them. Further, if the association of Indian captives with domestic labor, added to the fact that many were children or young adults, was true for Saint Domingue as well, then Indians in Saint Domingue probably served similar functions as domestic slaves in the towns and plantation homes. Moreover, Indian captives may have also worked as sailors and in urban trades in Le Cap and other towns of Saint Domingue. Perhaps many worked as barbers, servants, cooks, fishermen, bakers, blacksmiths and assistants, if runaway slave ads are reliable indications. A few were listed as speaking French or had traveled to France, suggesting that some would have been valued as fluent speakers of the dominant language and perhaps well traveled across the French Atlantic and Indian Ocean worlds.

 

Francois, identified as an Indian from the Coromandel coast, was clearly from the subcontinent.

 

 

Unfortunately, it is difficult to say what, if any, were the relations between these and African or Creole slaves of the colony. If free, they were, in theory, entitled to the rights of whites, like those of "Amerindian" descent. Free Indians may have been quite similar to free people of African descent, but evidence from Mauritius suggests at least a partial separation of the free people of color population in Port-Louis (Camp des Malabars was an "Indian" quarter, though Indians also lived in the free black African quarter and vice versa). But scholars also point out the porous nature of borders between Indian, Malagasy and Africans in Mauritius. While some of the Indians retained their sense of identity and continued to wear clothes affiliated with their regional origins, many probably shaped or joined the burgeoning "Creole" culture of the enslaved and free "black" population of the island. For Saint Domingue, where the Indian population was far smaller, there is no evidence of a "Camp des Malabars" and they might have merged into the general slave and free people of color categories rather quickly. Those who were free may have become slaveholders themselves, if "Indien" owners identified in runaway ads were indeed Asian.

 

Jean-Louis, of the "Malabar nation" in India, is associated with a ship captain coming from Mozambique. This illustrates how French slaving in the Indian Ocean sometimes brought captives from different parts of Africa, Madagascar, and India to Saint Domingue.

Besides the evidence of a limited residential separation of the racial "castes" in Mauritius's Port-Louis, there is evidence in France itself of Indian slaves suing for their freedom on the basis of non-African origin. There may have been, by the late 18th century, a sense among some Indians and Europeans that enslavement was only to be associated with those bearing the "indelible stain" of African ancestry.  This was the case with "Amerindian" peoples, who were supposed to be given the rights of whites and be exempt from racial prejudice. Therefore, Indians, despite their dark skin, were not to be associated with Africans and should be emancipated or enjoy the rights of whites. This development is tied to the growth of racial ideology \ might have appealed to Indians living in the Mascarenes and Saint Domingue as grounds for their freedom and claims to the rights and privileges of the white population. Increasingly discriminatory laws against free people of color in Saint Domingue may have also pressured those of "Indien" origin to distinguish themselves from African-descended people. It certainly led to some free people of color in Saint Domingue claiming Indian descent in response to discriminatory laws. Of course, the remaining question is to what extent were Indians, of the occidental and oriental types, actually receiving the rights and privileges of whites? Those who were "unmixed" with Africans may have had an easier time attaining the aforementioned privileges, but free people of color who claimed "Indien" origin (in this case, almost always "Amerindian") were refused patents recognizing that heritage. What were things actually like for people of East Indian origin remains to be seen. If the example of Mauritius gives any indication, some may have been able to become landowners like other free people of color. 

Some of the runaway slaves who found their way to Saint Domingue embodied all the vast influences, cultures, and imperial rivalries of the Indian Ocean. This example, of a black cook and baker, a "Creole of Goa," is mentioned as someone who not only speaks French, Portuguese, and English, but nearly all the languages of Africa's eastern littoral. This means this "Creole of Goa" may have been of African origin, and probably spoke Swahili. A perfect example of the complex inter-imperial slave trade networks that connected India and Africa via Portuguese and French trade in the Indian Ocean.

So, what became of Asian Indians in Saint Domingue during and after the Haitian Revolution? Runaway slave ads before and during the early 1790s attest to their presence. One would think most merged into the general population, and were given the same rights as other citizens. In fact, the case of Benjamin Fruneau, according to Madiou, who came to Haiti after independence, indicates Haiti's willingness to grant citizenship rights to people of Indian descent included Asians. But during the course of the Haitian revolution, some East Indian captives from Saint Domingue were brought to the US by their fleeing French owners. Runaway slave advertisements from Virginia in the 1790s reference an East Indian who may have been trying to return to Saint Domingue. The case of Crispin, who was in brought to Philadelphia in 1791, answers some of our questions. Crispin, on the run in Virginia, was allegedly waiting for passage to Saint Domingue, where, in 1794, slavery was abolished. That he wished to return to the island indicates his wish to live as an emancipated person, and put his hopes in a free Saint Domingue.

Twenty Dollars Reward. Run away from his Master in the City of Philadelphia, on Saturday the 15th of November last, a kind of Mulatto East-India Boy named CRISPIN, about 16 years old, 5 feet 4 inches high, slender built; he has been in the city for about 3 years speaks French and broken English; has straight black hair, which he sometimes ties; well made and walks upright; had on when he went away an almost new black hat, new short Jacket, and a pair of French fashioned trousers with feet to them, made of grey coating with plated buttons, white shirt, French neck handkerchief, and an almost new pair of shoes tied with ribbon, and wears sometime a National Cockade. There is reason to believe he has been brought into the state by a Frenchman, and is at present somewhere in or about Williamsburg or Norfolk waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. Whoever will secure the said boy in jail of this state so that his Master may get him again, shall have the above reward of twenty Dollars paid by the Printer of this Paper, with reasonable charges.--Norfolk, Dec. 9, 1794.

In some rare cases, East Indian captives owned by the French were brought to the US. In Norfolk, Virginia, a Frenchman posted an ad for his runaway "East India mulatto" boy, Crispin, who is identified as waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. 

 

 

 As for other East Indians from Saint Domingue, the case of African American John Pierre Burr's mother demonstrates the East Indian/Saint Domingue presence in Philadelphia's free black population. Burr's sister would later join the Haitian emigration movement in the 1820s, perhaps remembering their mother's Saint Domingue roots. Jack Forbes also mentioned, in passing, a family of East Indian and white origin from Saint Domingue living in South Carolina in 1817. Thus, 'mixed-race' Saint Domingue and Haitian families of Indian origin were found among the Saint Domingue diaspora in the US, and may have returned to Haiti during the 1820s and other periods. Similar families almost surely existed in post-1804 Haiti, but tracking them after the colonial period is difficult. Considering their small numbers and younger profile, one would assume they rather quickly merged into the general population. Those who were free before the Haitian Revolution may have married into similar families, and perhaps would have been met by Benjamin Fruneau in France and Haiti. While Madiou's account of Fruneau's origins suggest he heard about Haiti while living in Europe, it is possible he was already familiar with Saint Domingue as an important French colony where Asian Indians were present. This is pure speculation, but possible, given the circulation of people and goods between the two corners of the French colonial world. 

 

An advertisement for more goods for sale brought by La Parfait-Union. Included among its merchandise were 16 "beaux" Negroes, one of whom was a cook. This is another example of the fact that French ships coming from India included slaves in the cargo, albeit at much lower numbers than those coming directly from Africa. 

Since there are limitations to the sources used here, and a reliance on argument by analogy with regards to the Mascarenes, this post barely scratches the surface of a topic germane to the history of Indo-Caribbean peoples. While focusing on the territory with no known association with Indian immigration in the 19th and 20th centuries, baring a few exemptions (Dadlani from Jamaica, Fruneau from Mauritius/France), this post attempted to uncover and, in a limited way, analyze the presence of Indian slaves in the most important plantation colony of the 18th century.  While East Indians were in the Americas in the 16th century, and appear in various colonies and territories of the Caribbean-region during the colonial period, this blog post attempted to highlight those of Saint Domingue, postulating a perhaps greater number of them in this particular colony. The presence of East Indian slaves in the Caribbean may also yield insights into the nature of indentured Indian worker programs in the 19th and 20th centuries, demonstrating the long association of Indian people with coercive labor in parts of the Indian Ocean World and the Caribbean. Their presence also points to the interlocking nature of French colonialism and trade in the 18th century. For instance, French ships carried Indian textiles (and captives) for consumers in France and Africa (for additional slaves), and Indian textiles were key to clothing enslaved subjects in the Caribbean. The presence of actual Indian slaves in Saint Domingue adds another dimension to this, with intercontinental trade, migration, and coercive labor systems joining together European encroachment and hegemony in the two Indies.

Bibliography

Allen, Richard Blair. European Slave Trading in the Indian Ocean, 1500-1850. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press, 2014. 

 

----"Suppressing a Nefarious Traffic: Britain and the Abolition of Slave Trading in India and the Western Indian Ocean, 1770-1830." The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, 66, no. 4 (2009): 873-94. Accessed November 1, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40467545.

 

Carter, Marina. 'Slavery and Unfree Labour in the Indian Ocean,' History Compass, 4:5 (2006): 800–813.

 

Filliot, Jean-Michel. La Traite Des Esclaves Vers Les Mascareignes Au XVIIIe Siècle. Paris: ORSTOM, 1974.

Garrigus, John D. Before Haiti: Race and Citizenship in French Saint-Domingue. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

 

Geggus, David. "The Naming Of Haiti." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 71, no. 1/2 (1997): 43-68. Accessed November 4, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41849817.

 

Hooper, Jane & David Eltis."The Indian Ocean in Transatlantic Slavery." Slavery & Abolition, 34 no. 3 (2013): 353-375.

Major, Andrea. Slavery, Abolitionism and Empire in India, 1772-1843. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2012.

McClellan, James E. (James Edward). Colonialism and Science: Saint Domingue in the Old Regime. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. 

Moreau de Saint-Méry, Méderic Louis Élie. Description topographique, physique, civile, politique et historique de la partie françoise de l'isle Saint-Domingue. 3 vols. Philadelphia:  1797.

Shell, Robert Carl-Heinz. Children of Bondage: A Social History of the Slave Society At the Cape of Good Hope, 1652-1838. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1994.

Vaughan, Megan. Creating the Creole Island: Slavery in Eighteenth-century Mauritius. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. 

 

---. "Slavery and Colonial Identity in Eighteenth-Century Mauritius." Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 8 (1998): 189-214. Accessed November 4, 2020. doi:10.2307/3679294.

Medieval Nubia

I am developing a greater interest in medieval Nubia these days. It's a fascinating region where, for nearly 1000 years, Christian kingdoms thrived along the Sudanese Nile Valley. They left behind beautiful works of art, ceramics, churches, old cities, written records, and were one of the few civilizations in Africa where Christianity thrived after the Muslim conquests of North Africa. Indeed, Nubia seems a sibling of sorts to Coptic Egypt and Christian Ethiopia. Unfortunately, we know too little about Christian Nubia, despite the plethora of legal documents, land scales, religious literature, and external accounts of Nubia. Indeed, after going through several translations of Arabic and other sources on Nubia from the 6th century to the 16th, one is left with even more questions. For instance, what was the relationship of the Christian Nubian states to their neighbors further west, south, and east? What was the nature of town life like along the Nile, particularly in the cities Arab sources depicted as being large or attracting people from all over the "land of the Blacks" (Africa)? So many answers to these questions will have to be answered by archaeologists who, God willing, may be able to continue to excavate sites associated with Alwa.

Empire du Ghana Speculations

 

Sometimes Youtube can be useful. Like in this case, where this young lady's basic overview of the ancient kingdom (empire) of Ghana indicates someone who actually did their research. I have spent much of the last 48 hours going over secondary sources on this kingdom, the Soninke people, and English or French translations of Arabic sources on the history of the region. Even with advances in West African archaeology in Mali, Mauritania and nearby regions, I am amazed by how little we still know about Ghana (or, Wagadu), at least for eras prior to the rise of Islam. Can one really trace the origins of the state to agropastoralist stone masonry villages in Dhar Tichitt and related Mauritanian sites? There does seem to be evidence that some Mande groups once lived further north before the progress of the desert. Further, the evidence of Ghana itself, although more archaeological work remains to be done in the Awkar and nearby regions, do suggest a plausible origin sometime from the 4th to 6th centuries. Either way, by the time of the 8th century, Ghana was probably already the main source of gold for Sijilmasa, and the institutions associated with such a trade would not have appeared overnight.

But when going through the Arabic sources, one does arrive at some interesting theories of Ghana's origins. When used carefully with oral sources, they provide a picture of sorts of Soninke origins. The Timbuktu chronicles like Tarikh al-Fattash and its other Timbuktu counterpart suggest Ghana's existence predated Islam by at least a few centuries, and they attribute the origins of the kayamaga dynasty to "white" origin. This may reflect the fact that a 12th century king of Ghana, according to al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the family of the Prophet Muhammad. Or, it could indicate some degree of ancient intermarriage between Berbers and proto-Soninke peoples in the ancient past. Intriguingly, in the 11th century, al-Bakri mentioned at least two groups of "whites" living under the suzerainty of Ghana who were described as following their religion ("idolatry"). In one case, the "El Honeihim" whites were sent to the "land of the blacks" sometime after the Arab conquests in the Maghreb, but its possible the other group, identified as El Faman, may have been established in the region before. In addition to "whites" described as residing in the "Sudan," the Soninke kingdom of Ghana appears to have dominated the predominantly Berber and Arab trading entrepot of Awdaghust for some time in the 10th and 11th centuries, revealing the interest of Ghana in controlling the Saharan and Sahelian networks in trade to Sijilmasa and other parts of the Maghreb. If al-Bakri is to be trusted, the Berber and Arab residents of Awdaghust did not get along, so the representative of Ghana may have served as an intermediary between Berber, Arab and "Sudanese" residents in that bustling commercial town.

Clearly, there were "whites" (presumably Berbers) who were assimilated into local West African cultures, albeit one is described as endogamous in their marriage customs.  This shows that any "whites" who were involved with the origins of Ghana were likely people who adopted aspects of local culture rather than initiating centralized kingdoms of states. They may have been descendants of the cultural syncretism that some archaeologists argue appeared in Mauritania after 500 BC, when the Libyco-Berber presence is attested in the Dhar Tichitt, Walata, and associated areas. The old-fashioned Hamitic Hypothesis has been disproved countless times, but there likely was some degree of cultural exchange and influences between sedentary agriculturalists and pastoralists in Mauritania and Mali before Ghana's emergence.

Moreover, al-Bakri's account of Ghana's monarch and religion does not indicate any sort of "white" origin. Certainly, there is even far less evidence for Delafosse's "Jewish" theory of the origins of Ghana. If Jews from Cyrenaica had settled in the Awkar or other heartlands of the Ghana empire ca. 150-200 AD, establishing the kingdom by the year 300, one would imagine they would have left behind evidence in terms of synagogues, inscriptions, religion, or ritual objects in the Sahel or southern Sahara. Jewish populations were definitely present in the region several centuries later, after the increase in the scale of trans-Saharan trade. Another fanciful theory might attempt to link the origins of Ghana to Egypt or Nubia, but one would think evidence of such contacts should appear in the archaeological record. However, al-Bakri's description of royal funerary customs and the discovery of elite burials in the forms of tumuli in Mali and Senegal do suggest kings were buried with their possessions and some of their human servants, a custom that appeared on the Nile Valley thousands of years previously. This in itself proves nothing, however, and one finds no indication of Egyptian or Nubian deities in the territories associated with Ghana. 

Last, but certainly not least, one has the problematic origin theories of Frobenius, who saw a connection to the lost civilization of Atlantis in ancient "Black Africa." Through stories like "Gassire's Lute" and Frobenius's influential writings, he appears to have invented the idea of an epic cycle of stories of the Soninke, and wishes to connect them to his wider theories. While the Legend of Wagadu does indeed exist among Soninke populations dispersed across a large swathe of West Africa, and some of the oral traditions clearly reflect Islamization in their desire to trace the origin of Dinga to the Middle East, there is no evidence for an epic tradition akin to Frobenius's description. Undoubtedly, there is no evidence for ancient Atlantis or much of any contact between the Soninke and the Mediterranean world before the 8th century. 

As for the Arab ancestry of the 12th century Muslim king of Ghana identified by al-Idrissi, that is clearly a significant change from the "pagan" kings described in the 1000s. According to al-Bakri, kings like Basi and Tunkamenin were friendly with Muslims and included them in the royal administration. But besides the mention of one of Basi's son possibly being a Muslim, there is no evidence of significant penetration of Islam among the royalty of Ghana in the 11th century. Silla, a town identified by al-Bakri as resisting Ghana and having a Muslim king, may point to another example of a Soninke ruler converting to Islam. A century later, however, the kings of Ghana were affiliated with Islam and, per al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the Prophet's family. However, claims of sharifian descent are not unheard of among converted peoples. It only reveals the extent to which the king of Ghana and his Muslim contemporaries saw him as part of Islam.

However, the interplay of oral and written traditions of the Soninke and local chronicles do support some of the Arabic sources from al-Bakri onwards. For instance, one of the named kings of the 11th century, Tunkamenin, suggests a Soninke origin for the ruling dynasty. The title tunka among the Soninke signifies royalty, perhaps indicating al-Bakri combined the Soninke title with the name of the king. Soninke oral traditions also speak of a serpent associated with the fortune of the kingdom. Al-Bakri describes such a custom among an affiliated group in the Ghana kingdom (perhaps a Soninke sub-group). Furthermore, many of the towns along the Senegal, Faleme, and Niger rivers identified in the medieval Arabic sources appear in Soninke oral traditions of their dispersal from Wagadu. The patronymic clan names, serpent Bida, and other oral sources attest to the veracity of some of the North African, Iberian, and Middle Eastern geographies and reports. 

Moreover, the Timbuktu chronicles suggest the fall of the kayamaga (one of the titles of the rulers of Ghana after conflict with a group affiliated with a lower caste, servile origin, or ignoble roots. This may indicate the fall of the kayamaga after conflict with one of the "slaves of the state" lineages or caste groups. Perhaps the fall of the so-called Cisse dynasty represents the end of a non-Muslim line of kings, assuming the oral traditions are reliable on this point. But the line of kayamaga identified in the Tarikh al-Fattash suggest an end of their dynasty around the 7th or 8th century, identifying their last prince as Kanissa'ai. If true, were the kayamaga identified in the chronicle an early dynasty that was replaced by the Cisse? If the kayamaga line ended by the 7th or 8th century, they were certainly non-Muslim and perhaps the usurpers may have been of a servile lineage or caste group who decimated the old aristocracy.  

Although very limited and relying on oral sources to describe events centuries before their 17th century context, the Timbuktu chronicles do give us the capital of Ghana (Kumbi) and point to some type of conflict that may have reflected the impact of new ideas or intensified social relations (slavery, Islam, Mande caste systems, an expansion of Soninke trading diasporas?). Tamari's essay on the origins of the Mande caste system argues that it emerged among the Malinke peoples prior to the Soninke, appearing among the former by the 13th century. I would argue that it's probably older, and if the example of Ghana was a model of sorts to successor empires, there probably was some form of occupational castes among the Soninke during the period of Ghana. The caste system and Soninke social structure of the ethnographic present might demonstrate that Ghana's social structure consisted of free-born nobles, warriors, chiefs, traders, farmers, caste groups, and slaves. Perhaps the predecessor to the marabouts in pre-Islamic times were the priests of the "traditional" religion, associated with the "idols," ancestor veneration, secret societies, divination and rites. If the kayamaga line ended in the first century of Islam,  there may have already been dynastic change before the appearance of Ghana on the world scene, caused in part by servile populations such as the Kusa (slaves of the state) or conflict over control of the expanding trans-Saharan trade.

What this tells us about Ghana before the 8th or 9th century, I am not sure. Yet, the pre-Islamic foundations of the state appear quite clear, even predating evidence for trans-Saharan trade. It is only in the 12th century when evidence for Muslim kings among the royal dynasty appear, although some of the royalty and chiefs may have converted in the 11th century. Of course, the cousin of Tunkamenin identified as a ruler of Alouken, said to be a Muslim, had to hide his religion from his subjects. If true, this suggests that the Soninke rulers had to, at least publicly, support the "traditional" religion. But in order to control the distribution of gold from the south, impose a system of taxation, and demand tribute from subject towns or polities under its hegemony, there must have been political, economic, and social organization of some magnitude. By the 11th century, literate Muslims were involved in the administration, but one can surmise there already was something akin to Mande occupational castes for ironworkers, leatherworkers, and other occupations on the village level. Presumably, masons, weavers, craftsmen and other groups existed in the towns to produce the stone buildings in the royal city, but they might not have been organized into caste groups, if Djenne and Timbuktu exemplify a regional trend.

There probably were slaves of the king who may have served as local administrators or agricultural workers, while the majority of the population would have been "free" farmers or cultivators. Soninke traders must have also been on the move in southeastern Mauritania, the lands along the Senegal River, and the Inland Niger Delta relatively early on to ensure the distribution of gold from alluvial deposits in the south. Since Ghana did not directly control gold production, it is difficult to say who the people panning for gold were. Seasonal workers? As for the military of Ghana, al-Bakri's mention of 200,000 soldiers is impossible to verify. It also conflicts with his statement the land of Ghana was poorly peopled, unless the bulk of the soldiers came from lands further south among tributary towns. However, it does indicate the likely power and military might of the state, even if it was probably not a standing army. Either way, this military apparatus would have depended on an adequate supply of food, horses, arrows, spears, and other weapons, suggesting some degree of centralization to ensure distribution and security along trade routes.

Since the royal town, perhaps Kumbi, was affiliated with the "traditional" religion of "idolatry," ancestor veneration, sacrificial offerings, massive groves, and the massive mound burials of the royalty, religion must have played a role in legitimating the king's authority. According to ak-Bakri, the ruling king before Tunkamenin was blind, but had to hide it from his subjects. This could reflect a belief in the king's body as sacred or infallible. The Islamic influence prior to the 12th century must have been mostly concentrated in the towns and cities, but it is possible that Islamic-derived divination practices may have already exerted some influence on local practices among the Soninke. Some of the trading diasporas of the Soninke (Wangara?) may have been early converts to Islam, too. Whether or not the religion had any appeal to commoners or rural areas is unknown, but may have coexisted rather peacefully with local religions. If the conversion of some of the ruling elite to Islam weakened the dynasty's authority, it may have paved the way for factional conflict by the time of the Almoravid dynasty, and eventual fall ca. 1203 to the Sosso. It certainly would have required an adaptation or modification of earlier notions of royal authority, but the later Mali kings of the 13th century and 14th century appear to have combined local sources of royal authority with their Muslim religion. Indeed, if the Arabic sources can be trusted, an early Muslim king of Mali went so far as to destroy the idols of his "pagan" subjects, but retained his royal position.

So, what do we really know about early Ghana? It is likely that there was some connection to the Tichitt Tradition in prehistoric Mauritania, but Iron Age sites further south in Mali could prove to be the real origin of the state. There is no evidence whatsoever for a "Hamitic Hypothesis." Nor can one attribute the rise of Ghana to the stimulus of the trans-Saharan trade, although it definitely shaped later developments. The chronology of the ruling dynasty (or dynasties) is also uncertain, but the Soninke are unquestionably tied to it. What "Soninke" meant over 1000 years ago is of course not the same as our modern conception of it, naturally. Identities and languages were presumably fluid, and general similarities in conceptions of the world or social organization among Mande peoples probably indicate a degree of cultural similarity between differing ethnic groups. Ghana's significance as an empire comprised of different states and peoples is a testament to the cultural mosaic of the Sahel, and developments in Ghana also paved the way for transformations that altered the rest of West Africa.

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