Sun Ra's Hocus Pocus

We always enjoy hearing Sun Ra's tributes to Fletcher Henderson and all of our past heroes. "Hocus Pocus" was actually one of our early favorites from the legendary Fletcher, so hearing a "modern" take from the inimitable Sun Ra and His Arkestra is a delight.

Timbuktu's Patriciate

Elias Saad's Social History of Timbuktu: The Role of Muslim Scholars and Notables, 1400–1900 is an important study of the social tradition of the scholar-notable as a Timbuktu patriciate for about 500 years of urban history. This social tradition of scholar-notables helped define a recurring theme of autonomism in Timbuktu as scholars, through the judgeship and imamates, effectively administered the city through the long series of conquerors and states or empires that absorbed it. This rather unique position of Timbuktu and its renown as a center of Islamic learning makes it an interesting case study for understanding the Islamic city and its relationship with the Saharo-Sahelian and Sudanic contexts in which Timbuktu was intimately linked. 

Indeed, early Timbuktu, from the earliest chains of transmission still extant, was heavily indebted to southern Soninke and Malinke locations for its early Islamic scholars. Timbuktu's position as a site of prominence for Islamic scholarship in the Saharan, Sahelian and Sudanic regions was also based on the wealthiest families of different ethnic origins found the city to be a site where the pursuit of the acquisition of Islamic learning (especially jurisprudential learning) served an integrative function. This allowed Sanhaja, Arab, Soninke, Malinke, Songhai, Fulani, and others to come together in Timbuktu's early origins as a trading center. While not the only city in the Western Sudan to have an origin in a multiethnic trading center, in Timbuktu the goal of wealthy families, tailors, some craftsmen, and others to acquire literacy and gain the reputation of learned status, plus the ability of the wealthier families to produce renowned scholars, established Timbuktu as the city par excellence with scholar-notables as a patriciate. 

Saad seems to think the 'patriciate' of Timbuktu was defined by Islamic scholarship and the development of a social tradition that favored Timbuktu's autonomy throughout most of the period from c.1400-1900. While the Mali, Mossi, Magsharen Tuareg, Songhai, Ruma (Moroccan invasion force that integrated into society rather quickly), Kel Tadmekkat Tuareg, Kunta, and jihadist Hamdullahi states all claimed suzerainty over Timbuktu at various times in this 500 year period, the scholar-notables always dominated the city (at least in religio-legal spheres) and through the judgeship and the imamates of the main mosques actually administered the town. This appears to have been the case under Malian, Songhai and Ruma rule, attesting the longevity of this social tradition. One could conquer Timbuktu, but in the end the conquerors or invaders were integrated or accepted in some form or another this arrangement. One is not sure if any other city in the Western Sudan could be said to have encompassed a similar social history of a patriciate based on the scholars.

Modeste Testas

Haiti Inter has produced an interesting video on an East African woman who ended up in Saint Domingue. Her prominent descendants include President Légitime. Intriguingly, a descendant of Testas who wrote a book about her enslaved ancestor is also featured in the video. Unfortunately, they do not really get into the nitty gritty of her East African origins (was she really from Adal?) but still a well-made video exemplifying history and genealogy revealing something of our African origins.

Civil War and Transition in Kongo

After a brief attempt of reading it 12 years ago, we finally went back and finished The Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transition 1641-1718 by John K. Thornton. A short study based on his thesis, Thornton endeavors to elucidate a process of historical change in an African polity. Since the Kongo kingdom before the 2nd half of the 17th century was a centralized, town-centered polity in which Mbanza Kongo dominated a large territory, one must understand what led it to become a fragmented, decentralized state with a village-centered economy. Thornton, differing from other scholars, does not see the Portuguese in Angola as a primary or major factor at all in this development. Instead, the origin of the process was in the ability of Nsoyo to rise to prominence as a competing (and independent mbanza) which destabilized a centralized polity based on Mbanza Kongo. 

However, in order to understand exactly what transpired in Kongo from the reign of Garcia II to 1718, one must comprehend how the Kongo state operated before the civil wars of the post-Mbwila years. Thornton's thesis relies on an understanding of Kongo society, administration, economy and religion mainly drawn written sources. The changes in Kongo oral traditions already apparent in the 18th century, and those of the 20th century, reflect changes that may mislead researchers who rely too heavily on modern ethnographies or oral traditions to reconstruct the earlier past of Kongo. So, with that perspective and drawing on textual sources, Thornton develops a model of Kongo state and society. It was a society of nobility and powerful kings based in Mbanza Kongo, with the latter appointing provincial nobility to administer provinces that yielded taxes. The nobility and ruler, however, did not control production in the villages. Instead, peasant producers retained control of production and simply paid taxes to the state (and the kitomi and nkuluntu. In the mbanza, or towns, which were really overgrown villages, the aristocracy were able to control production through the use of slave labor. By concentrating large numbers of people in the mbanza and controlling production through the exploitation of slaves (who, were more akin to European serfs), the nobility were able to accumulate much larger surpluses than what the villages could provide. 

One mbanza, the royal capital, far surpassed all others and the dream of the Kongo nobility was to find a position in the capital where access to luxury goods and control of greater surpluses was possible. With the exception of Nsoyo, no other town in Kongo rivaled the capital. The Kongo order that was perhaps at its height during the reign of Garcia II, was able to thus impose a system that brought in revenue from taxes on villages and used the royal court to appoint, remove, and circulate nobility in various provinces. The nobility wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo and Kongo kings could use this central economic role of Mbanza Kongo to reward loyal and faithful dependents. The royal household and the nobility functioned as houses, comparable to those of medieval Europe. Competition within houses for the throne or for access to the spoils of power did, inevitably, occur. But the centralizing status and nature of Kongo as the economic, social and political capital ensured that even rivals to the throne or competitors wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo instead of eking an existence in the countryside with meager surplus or despoiled peasants.

In a sense, Hilton and Thornton have similar perspectives on how the decline of Mbanza Kongo and a centralized Kongo was related to economic concerns. It was not so much the Portuguese victory in 1665 that finally caused the decline of Kongo. Instead, it was the closer, internal threat represented by Nsoyo, an autonomous province with its own economically important mbanza and access to Atlantic trade, which revealed the changes on the horizon. Soon, after 1665, various contenders, often from the Kinlanzi and Kimpanzu houses, fought for decades for control of Mbanza Kongo. The capital was sacked during these civil wars and the nobility, dispersed into the rural provinces where chances for greater amounts of surplus to expropriate wealth were minimal, became permanently based in the rural areas and relied on the Kongo peasant producers (who retained control of production). While the civil wars created conditions in which some nobles could seize captives and sell them, or loot, none of the nobles were powerful enough to permanently seize Mbanza Kongo and restore a unified kingdom. Furthermore, Nsoyo interfered throughout the civil wars of the late 17th century, promoting rival claimants to the throne but never providing enough support for them to succeed. Indeed, a reunified Kongo would actually have posed a threat to Nsoyo, which preserved much of pre-civil war Kongo administrative structure and enjoyed prosperous trade links with the Dutch, Vili and others north of the Zaire. 

In the end, Kongo survived its period of civil wars to reemerge as a fragmented state by 1718. By this date, however, the king was a far weaker figure and the provincial nobility were mostly autonomous. Christianity remained important, especially for the nobility, and indeed religion played an important role in the later years of the civil wars during the Antonian movement. According to Thornton, Dona Beatriz's movement, which was popular and helped repopulate Mbanza Kongo, also sought to have her ritually install the next Kongo king, like the kitomi. Instead of some sort of anti-colonial movement, Dona Beatriz's movement wanted to restore a united Kongo while also demonstrating the ways in which Christianity had been so adapted and incorporated into Kongo cosmology. Ultimately, the Kongo that was restored in the 18th century was to forever lose the pattern of centralized authority with kings appointing nobility to provincial posts and with a large degree of control of production in mbanza based on slave labor.

Les marrons du syllabaire

Jean Fouchard's work can be quite frustrating. Sometimes he promises more than he delivers, relies on faulty assumptions or limited sources or his loquacious writing style can become a chore to read. Thinking this case would be different, we read his Les marrons du syllabaire: quelques aspects du problème de l'instruction et de l'éducation des esclaves et affranchis de Saint-Domingue. Too short and consisting of somewhat meandering, brief chapters, the historian endeavored to portray the struggle of our ancestors to attain literacy and education in the hellish slave society known as Saint Domingue. As one probably suspects, the French colonial system was based upon the exploitation of blacks as chattel slaves. Preventing them from challenging that order meant restrictions on the ability of free and enslaved people of color, including prohibitions aimed to restrict literacy and education to whites. Nonetheless, our ancestors, against all odds, did learn how to read and, in some cases, acquire a more than rudimentary education. Since Fouchard wrote this work around the time of the 150th anniversary of Haitian independence, he seeks to celebrate this achievement of our forebears while also, perhaps falsely or inaccurately, portraying free people of color and slaves as always united against the colonial order.

Unfortunately, most of this short book does not really address or explain how slaves and free people of color learned to read. Some likely achieved it through clandestine meetings and schools that have not left behind in terms of sources. Others may have learned the rudiments of reading and writing from priests and "kind" masters. A fortunate few, especially those sent to France for education, received the best education available in those times. The most interesting group of literate blacks, however, were those who already knew how to read and write before leaving Africa. This group, the Islamized or Muslim West Africans, included those who could read and write in Arabic and use Arabic to write local languages. Of this group, Fouchard mentions the case of the familiar Tamerlan plus references to Bornoans in Saint Domingue, interviewed by Descourtilz. Not mentioned, sadly, are the Kongo natives and other Africans who sometimes could read and write in Portuguese. Nonetheless, Fouchard was able to hear direct testimony from poet Roussan Camille that his great-grandfather was literate in Arabic. Indeed, his ancestor left an Arabic engraving in Jacmel that, sadly, has not survived. Still, Camille's testimony is an interesting example of how Haitians with African Muslim ancestors were aware of this past, even though the knowledge was lost. One wonders if Camille's ancestor was a "Mandingue" or perhaps Hausa?

Despite its flaws, Fouchard's study truly does warrant a modern, thorough study of the topic. The question of African Muslims in Saint Domingue and possible legacies in 19th century Haiti has not received a proper analysis. The question of education and literacy among free people of color is also interesting. Indeed, one of our ancestor's had a godfather who was able to read and write. Were literate free people of color in 18th century Bainet and Jacmel simply the products of clandestine "schools" or networks? Were they learning to read and write (or at least sign their names) from other free people of color who taught them informally? And what was, truly, the role of education in the vision of Toussaint Louverture and the Saint Dominguan revolutionaries during the Haitian Revolution? Was Romaine la Prophetesse, who appears to have been literate, able to use this to promote his alleged connection with the Virgin Mary?

Mariategui and Haiti

Jose Carlos Mariategui: An Anthology edited by Vanden and Becker includes a short article by Mariategui on the US Occupation of Haiti. Written at a pivotal moment in 1929, when the international anti-imperialist movement paid attention to Haiti after the Marchaterre Massacre and unrest, the article suggests how one major Latin American Marxist intellectual saw Haiti. Sadly, Mariategui's critique of the venal Haitian interests which supported the violent US occupation remains relevant. Yet the salvation of Haiti will be those who aligned themselves with a new, progressive force of the US, presumably a reference to the international anti-imperialist movement that connected events in Haiti to other parts of the Americas.

Sunday Morning in Bainet

Micius's Sunday Morning, Bainet, 1959 captures the rural gentry and wealth of Bainet in the past. Although the subject of this painting is unclear, one thinks of the Pierre-Louis or another Bainet-based family of wealthy coffee traders or speculateurs who were able to accumulate some wealth and construct refined family homes. Our ancestral homeland was once far more important, economically, in Haiti.

Dahomey and Its Neighbors

Akinjogbin's Dahomey and Its Neighbors, 1708-1818 is one of the classic studies of the kingdom of Dahomey during a pivotal century in its development. Although Akinjogbin's Ebi theory of Yoruba and Aja polities appears to be untenable, or at least lacking sufficient evidence to be demonstrated fully, the rise of Dahomey as a major power in the Slave Coast region is certainly a topic worthy of analysis. Akinjogbin, who misleadingly presents early Dahomey and Agaja as opponents of the slave trade, or at least its destructive impact on Aja polities like Allada and Whydah in the 17th century, posits that Dahomey achieved an administrative revolution by replacing the Ebi theory for a more centralized, absolute monarchy in which the monarchy endeavored to control the slave trade. Indeed, Dahomey no longer resembled the Yoruba and Aja states of old and was better able to survive the 19th century than Oyo because of it.

However, in terms of economics, Dahomey became wedded to the slave trade and compromised the state's health. Factors in Europe, for instance, or the shifting interests of Oyo in terms of providing the supply of captives for export at Whydah, posed a number of problems for 18th century Dahomey kings. Oyo, under Abiodun, emphasizing Porto Novo as its primary port on the Atlantic, for example, contributed to the economic woes and depression of Dahomey. Dahomey was also not always effective at promoting Whydah as the major port on the Slave Coast. Competition from Badagry, Porto Novo and other ports, combined with the inability of Dahomey to defend Whydah from the old Whydah forces threatened the security of the port and its ability to attract Europeans. Dahomey was also, at least during the reign of Agaja's son, not effective at slave raiding. In short, Dahomey had to rely on Oyo to supply captives for export through Whydah and it had to rely on the vicissitudes of European and Atlantic World commerce and slaving. Some rulers, however, were progressive and thought of other ideas and practices, or even reviving agriculture to promote Dahomey's economy and end the long-lasting depression that began in the 1760s. By then, it was too late as the dependence on the slave trade remained the only option for Dahomey to retain access to Europe.

Despite the economic failings of 18th century Dahomey, Akinjogbin presents Aganja, Tegbesu, Kpengla, Agonglo and Adandoza as visionary, progressive, rational and skilled leaders and administrators. Indeed, the survival of the Dahomey state during this century is impressive when one considers the weakness of the state militarily or its internal conflicts. In that sense, Oyo's overlordship may have paradoxically created the conditions for Dahomey to consolidate its administrative and economic basis after Agaja's rapid conquests of Allada and Whydah. Oyo and the Europeans on the coast could cause problems, but having Oyo provide some degree of security for its vassals and supplying slaves for export at Whydah, Dahomey's port, created favorable conditions for Dahomey to reestablish itself on a firm footing after 1740. To what extent Dahomey truly achieved a "revolution" can only be answered with deeper knowedge of Allada, Whydah, and Oyo as states.

A World That Columbus Discovered

Un mundo que descubrió Colón: las rutas del comercio prehispánico de los metales by Adam Szaszdi Nagy is a fascinating work endeavoring to understand precolonial trade in metals (and shells, slaves, salt, emeralds, and semiprecious stones) across the Americas. Beginning in the Antilles, where Columbus was first informed of places with gold, guanin and precious metals, Nagy takes the Indian guides and informants seriously for testimony on long-distance trade. Guanin, for instance, the gold-copper alloy so highly treasured by the Taino for pectorals and adornment, was indeed acquired through long-distance trade with South America. Guayana, or Guayana, was likely one of the areas from which guanin (also known as caracoli to the Caribs) spread to the Antilles, perhaps through an exchange of slaves. In addition to guanin and other worked metals, the Antilles was also part of an exchange network that connected all the Americas. 

Shells, jadeite, emeralds, salt, slaves, copper, silver, turquoise and textiles connected North and South America via maritime routes through the Caribbean and across the Pacific. Indeed, Nagy draws on evidence of widespread similar uses of guanin for pectorals and nose pieces in the Antilles, Colombia and Central America to posit a long-lasting network of trade. In addition, the ultimate sources of the techniques for advanced metallurgy appear to have first arisen in Peru and Ecuador, from which they spread to Colombia (the Quimbaya, Muisca, Sinu, and Tairona cultures). Then, via trade routes that traveled along South American rivers and overland, guanin or tumbaga reached the Antilles, Mesoamerica, and beyond (as Florida seems to have received some items of South American origin via the Antilles). 

While Nagy seems to uncritically accept some Spanish sources as valid on the cannibalism of the Caribs or those of the Colombian Cauca valley, he interprets them carefully elsewhere to establish the skill and longevity of contact and trade in the Americas. For instance, the Taino of the Greater Antilles told Colombus, Chanca and others of their trade contacts with the mainland (Zuania, or Guania?). Elsewhere, indigenous informants in 16th century Mexico reported the visit of long-distance traders via the sea to the Pacific Coast of Mexico, which is probably evidence of trade contacts with coastal Ecuador. Was there indeed a movement of specialists in metallurgy from Ecuador to Mexico due to Inca expansion in the 15th century is difficult to say with the sources used, but certainly possible. Likewise, Raleigh and others on Guayana indicate how the long-lasting trade in guanin continued as late as the end of the 16th century in South America. Furthermore, was el Turco, the man encountered in the Southwest by Coronada, really a native of Ecuador? Nagy's evidence is insufficient, but certainly suggestive of ancient contacts via trade between Ecuador and Mexico as natives of Ecuador's coast traveled in balsas with sails. 

One wishes more could have been uncovered on direct Taino trade with Colombia and Venezuela without the Carib or Lesser Antilles intermediaries. Nagy argues that Cuba lacked close trade links with the Yucatan and Central America due to the lack of sufficient trade goods that would have attracted merchants from the mainland. But Jamaica, where a cacique's regalia impressed Columbus and resembled that of Indian populations in parts of Panama and Columbia, would presumably have lacked goods to exchange with the mainland, too. Unless, perhaps, captives or carved, wooden objects of Taino artisans attracted a market in the mainland? And what if, contrary to Nagy, the Taino were cultivating cotton in sufficient quantities to export it to the mainland, and trading directly with the coast of Colombia as well as Venezuela?

Nereyda

Enjoying bachata guitar this weekend with a classic from Raulin Rodriguez.

Inca Religion and Customs

Inca Religion and Customs continues Bernabe Cobo's work on the Inca Empire. Instead of history, however, the author emphasizes religion, customs, rites, superstitions, and everyday life among Peruvian Indians. Those who have read El Inca Garcilaso and other sources on life in the Inca Empire will be familiar with much of the information reported here. However, since Cobo relied heavily on a lost work by Polo de Ondegardo, plus his own observations and travels across Peru, one occasionally finds gems of information or additional references to further research. For instance, some idea of the role of constellations in Inca cosmology and understanding of the origins of humans and animals is apparent here. In addition, a detailed list of several guacas and the types of service or tribute and sacrifice they received helps one comprehend the tight relationship between the guacas and the Inca state. One can even find a functionalist and rational explanation for the practices of sorcery, divination and magic among the elderly in Inca society since, according to Cobo, elderly men had no other source of living except selling or exchanging their spiritual or magical services. Furthermore, Cobo mentions juntas or convitas among the farmers of the empire, the monopolization of the services of specialized artisans by the Inca and caciques, and the accomplishments of the pre-colonial Peruvians in architecture, weaving, agriculture, infrastructure, and metallurgy.

Bainet and Edger Jean-Baptiste

I have no idea how to interpret this painting by Edger Jean-Baptiste, entitled General Lugosongue Franchissant 10,000 Carreaux de Terre Par Permission Une Botte 200 Lieue. However, I recognize our church, St. Pierre, in the background. Who is this General Lugosongue Franchissant? Fortunately, the amazing Haitian Art Society is a great resource to see more example Haitian painting.

The Kingdom of Kongo

Anne Hilton's The Kingdom of Kongo offers a broad overview of the Kingdom of Kongo's rise and fall based on local adoption and adaptation of Christianity, Atlantic trade, and slavery in West Central Africa. Relying on, for the most part, written sources and some 20th century ethnographies, Hilton suggests the origins of Kongo lay in a redistributive economic system in which goods produced by distinct ecological zones of the Kongo state were exchanged. The mani kongo, or king, emerged sometime by the early 15th century as the dominant figure in this system, controlling the redistribution of local cloth, salt, nzimbu shells, and copper from beyond the borders of Kongo. The early state, however, was built on 3 distinct religious dimensions and different kinship structures, including matrilineal kanda and what later emerged as patrilineal groups based on descent from the daughters of Afonso I. 

However, the early Kongo state was relatively decentralized and the kings were eager to find new sources of legitimation. The mbumba, nkadi pmemba, and kitome dimensions were all important, but the Catholic cult and its association with the mani Kongo and aristocratic Mwissikongo aristocrats provided a religious or spiritual source of legitimacy that connected the kings with the cult of the ancestors and the sky spirits. While it is perhaps debateable to what extent this cosmovision really influenced the way Afonso I adopted Catholicism, Kongo was accepted as a Christian state by Europeans and adopted literacy, some Portuguese names, and even tried to buy or purchase European-styled ships. The kings of Kongo and the Mwissikongo supported the new religion, used literacy to enhance administration, accepted new crops from the Americas, and took advantage of the copper, slave, and nzimbu trades to expand Kongo's power in West Central Africa. Indeed, Kongo's cloth production was central to the currency and trade of the Portuguese colony of Luanda and Portuguese slave trading in the interior. 

Unfortunately for Kongo, however, Catholicism and the centralization achieved by Afonso, Diogo I and Kongo kings until the early decades of the 17th century was challenged by new developments. Sonyo, a province of Kongo, became increasingly independent and weakened Mbanza Kongo's economic importance through new trade routes with the Vili and others. Instead of the old Makoko-Mbanza and Luanda trade routes for slaves, ports like Mpinda and alternative slave routes developed that bypassed Kongo or did not rely on Kongo's cloth. In addition, Portuguese expansion of the Luanda colony and the seizure of the nzimbu-producing Kongo territory, as well as attacks on vassal states or chiefdoms of Kongo, further weakened Kongo. The Kongo kings were also not successful with establishing complete control of the Catholic Church, an institution which was central to the further legitimation of the rulers. The Portuguese refused, despite Afonso I's son serving as a bishop, allowing for an independent see of Mbanza Kongo and the clergy, prefects, and priests in Kongo were often dictated by or led by men based in Luanda. Even the Capuchins, who came to Kongo and were initially seized upon by Garcia II to strengthen his rule, eventually became more aligned with Luanda while criticizing the state of Christianity in the Kongolese provinces. Even the Dutch occupation of Luanda was a failure in the sense that Kongo did not eradicate the Portuguese presence and, in fact, was blamed for anti-Portuguese massacres. The enmity between Kongo and Luanda governors, who could also block envoys and letters from Kongo to the Pope or to Spain and Portugal, eventually led to the fateful battle of Mbwila.

The later centuries of Kongo cover its existence as a splintered or fragmented state, with autonomous provinces like Sonyo and warlods and competing lineage groups competing for the throne. Kongo Catholicism survived, even leading to a site of pilgrimage devoted to the Virgin Mary and the close relationship between Mwissikongo and the Christian cult. Kongo indigenous religion likewise continued, even experiencing a revival during the reign of Garcia II and that of his son due to Capuchin aggression Nonetheless, the Kongo of the 18th and 19th centuries was very different from the state system consolidated by Afonso I and his successors. While the Portuguese and the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade did not destroy Kongo, one can undoubtedly see how Atlantic trade was a double-edged sword that paved the way for Kongo centralization and decentralization. The main reason why Kongo, however, was not able to maintain its dominant position was related to its increasingly peripheral role in the main trade routes used for the slave trade and the decline of the mani Kongo's role in redistributing regional or international goods to his clients. The failure to establish a church under royal control further undermined the Kongo kings since one of the major ideological sources of their legitimacy was controlled by external actors not always acting in the interests of Kongo or its state. 

Ethiopia's Armenian Envoy in the East

E.J. van Donzel's Foreign Relations of Ethiopia 1642-1700: Documents Relating to the Journeys of Khodja Murad contains translations of various primary source documents on an interesting figure in Ethiopia's diplomatic history. Said to have been an illiterate Armenian merchant from Aleppo, Khoja Murad served as an envoy for the Solomonic rulers of Ethiopia on a number of missions to Mughal India and the VOC in Batavia (Indonesia). Although, at least with regards to the VOC, trade of any significant scale between the powerful Dutch company and Ethiopia did not materialize, the documents, letters, and reports pertaining to Murad attest to the global presence of Solomonic Ethiopia in the Early Modern World. 

Indeed, despite relying, for the most part, on Ottoman-ruled Massawa for access to Red Sea and Indian Ocean trade, Fasiladas, Yohannes, and Iyasu I maintained or at least endeavored to send friendly missions to the powerful empires of Asia and the Mediterranean. Thus, the Ottomans, Persians, Mughals, and the VOC in Southeast Asia all received envoys from the Ethiopians at various moments in the 17th century. While the letters exchanged between the VOC and Ethiopia were vague and some of the Dutch sources questioned the authenticity of Murad or the likelihood of any profitable trade with the African kingdom, the letters illustrate a keen desire on the part of the Gondar kings to expand and sustain trading partnerships. In fact, despite the expulsion of the Jesuits and Roman Catholics, the rulers were not opposed to Protestant Europeans and were willing to promote trade with Muslim powers and neighbors. As revealed by the account of al-Haymi's mission from Yemen to Fasilides, the negus was hoping to promote Red Sea trade through the port of Baylul. Unfortunately, it did not succeed. This failure to develop trade on a large scale at that port meant that Massawa remained the main port of entry for Ethiopian access to Asian goods. While Zeila was later promoted to the Dutch as another possible port, the danger of Oromo groups on the way to the Ethiopian highlands and the necessity of requiring the permission of the imam of Mokha posed additional problems. Thus, the Solomonic dynasty had to rely on Massawa. Fortunately for the Ethiopians, the Ottoman pasha of Massawa was dependent on Ethiopian goodwill for food and water. In addition, Fasilides, his son, and his grandson also relied on the Ottoman officials in Massawa to help police the movement of Catholic Europeans into the kingdom. Nonetheless, the lack of direct access to the Red Sea at a viable port created complications for large-scale VOC trade in the region.

Despite this "failure" of Khoja Murad's voyages to Batavia, the sources translated in van Donzel's account allude to numerous aspects of Ethiopia's relations with the broader Red Sea and Indian Ocean worlds. With Mughal India, for instance, the sorry state of Murad's party when they finally met with Aurangzeb may have been saved by the depredations of Shivadji. Subsequent to their audience with Aurangzeb, Murad's Abyssinian mission received the equivalent of 20,000 francs of rupees from the Mughal ruler, which was later spent on Indian goods to bring back to Ethiopia at a profit. This episode reveals how Murad combined diplomacy and business while also illustrating how the Mughal ruler basically saw the gift to the Abyssinians as another way of promoting his economy. Since the Ethiopians used the funds to purchase Indian goods, it was another way for the Mughal ruler to boost his economy. As for the question of the Mughal ruler asking for Fasilides to rebuild a mosque in or near Gondar, perhaps this was just another element of the flexibility Abyssinian rulers (and their envoys) adopted in order to maintain profitable relations with Muslim powers. 

Other documents translated from Dutch, Arabic, and, in one case, Armenian, similarly shed light on Ethiopia during the second half of the 17th century. For instance, the Gongo region's population were said to be descendants of Hindustani Rajputs. The attempted coup against Iyasu, which involved his mother, was also reported. The Funj Sultanate, ruled from Sennar, was still reported to be a vassal province of the Christian Solomonic state. Furthermore, the identity of the Armenian bishop who traveled to Ethiopia during the reign of Yohannes is reported. Probably Hovannes Tutundju, who had traveled to Istanbul, Italy and Egypt, his account of Ethiopia, despite its brevity, provides another perspective on Gondar. One also wonders if the Ethiopians had developed a coffee industry in the 18th century, would they have been able to attract greater Dutch (and English) interest in trade? And if Iyasu had succeeded in somehow establishing relations with France or another Catholic European power, in spite of the opposition of the Ethiopian clergy, would the course of 18th century Ethiopian history have been quite different?

Congo

A lovely Brazilian jazz composition in honor of Congo (Nos ancêtres les Congolais). 

Lords of the Tiger Spirit

Neil Whitehead's Lords of the Tiger Spirit: A History of the Caribs in Colonial Venezuela and Guyana, 1498-1820 presents analysis of Carib resistance and eventual conquest in Guayana, a region that is today's Venezuela and Guyana. Due to the region's incomplete conquest by the Spanish in the 16th century and the competing spheres of influence of European powers, the indigenes of the Orinoco region, particularly those who came to be identified as Caribs, retained their autonomy until the second half of the 18th century. Whitehead's study seeks to elucidate why Carib autonomy persisted for so long in this region and why, despite the small indigenous population by the 19th century, their relations with the Spanish, Dutch, English and French were so pivotal for the eventual emergence of the states of Venezuela and Guyana. 

Whitehead primarily relies on archival sources, missionary reports, Dutch West India Company records, the Archivo General de las Indias and ethnographic studies of indigenous groups in Venezuela and Guyana to establish an identity for the Caribs. Since there was an inherent ambiguity in the moniker Carib, as used and developed by the Spanish for Indian groups hostile to them, one must look to linguistics, modern ethnographies, and indigenous kinship patterns and political economies to understand how some Indian populations in Guayana became Carib (or were absorbed into that category). Since Spanish slave raiding and conflict with "Caribs" began in the 16th century, Caribs along the Orinoco and other rivers were quick to establish an alliance with the Dutch. By trading dyes, slaves, provisions and supplies to the Dutch, the Caribs were able to receive firearms, metal hatchets, axes, rum, and European manufactured goods. These European goods, in turn, gave the Caribs a prominent economic role in the region since they were able to supply European products to other indigenous populations. The Dutch colonial presence in Essequibo, Berbice and Demerara, especially before the growth of the sugarcane industry (which relied on African slave labor) was especially important for the Carib resistance to the Spanish in the Orinoco.

Unfortunately for the Caribs, the 18th century led to the eventual dislocation, significant population decline, and reduction of Caribs (and other Indians) by the Spanish. The 18th century witnessed the expansion of missions led by orders like the Franciscans, Capuchins, and Jesuits into the interior of Guayana. These missions, with their entradas, militia support, and relocation of Indian populations into a regimented, missionary-controlled existence disrupted Carib political, social and economic independence. Caribs who continued to resist or those who fled further into the interior or to their Dutch allies found them to be less supportive of military conflict with the Spanish. Indeed, the Dutch colonies, with their reliance on slavery and sugar plantations, were eager to receive mules, horses, and other goods from the Spanish territory. Furthermore, in spite of the Dutch reliance on their Carib allies for "bush police" to hunt runaway slaves, the Dutch correctly perceived the greater investment of Spanish resources and forces to subdue and pacify Indian populations was a markedly different development in Spanish colonial policy. However, the Spanish, despite the success with the missions in reducing and controlling indigenous groups, was not able to completely subdue the Caribs or threaten the Dutch in Essequibo, Demerara or Berbice.

What makes the Carib case so interesting is that their more diffuse political system appears to have been what saved them from the rapid Spanish conquest of areas like Peru and Mexico. Instead of a vast, centrally administered state in which the Spanish were able to remove and replace, Guayana represented several small polities or village-level communities. While a prominent war-chief, cacique, or shaman could potentially bring together several villages, the lack of a single political center to neutralize or eradicate led to the Spanish inability to conquer Guayana for centuries. The diffused nature of indigenous polities and dispersed settlements probably also hindered the spread of epidemic diseases of Old World origin, too. Indeed, the reduction of Indians by the missions probably played an essential role in disrupting Indian subsistence pattern and increasing contact with Europeans, eventually leading to substantial population decline by the end of the 18th century. Of course, this lack of a centralized administration was also used against the Caribs (and indigenous Guayana in toto) as the Dutch and Spanish picked allies to pit one against the other. The destructive impact of the slave trade must have also contributed to the instability of the region as Caribs, perhaps acquiring an understanding of the exchange value of captives, likely raided more communities for captives or engaged in conflicts with groups like the Manoa to preserve their privileged access to European goods. 

Overall, the combination of the missions, renewed Spanish efforts at expansion, the decline of Dutch trade with the Caribs, and the demographic collapses caused by exposure to Old World disease led to the defeat of the Caribs. Nonetheless, their centuries-long resistance to Spanish occupation and their key role as antagonists, traders, and raiders helped shape Venezuela and Guyana. Intriguingly, their close relations with the Kalinago ("Island Caribs") in the 16th and 17th centuries also connected them to Antillean affairs. Just as in the Lesser Antilles, Caribs in Venezuela and Guyana were able to use inter-European rivalries to buttress their own position and play an important role in trading, slaving, and anti-Spanish endeavors. One wishes that more could be said about the pre-1498 history of contacts with the Antilles, particularly long-distance trade networks that connected the Guianas with the llanos, Amazonia and Andes. 

Chronicles from Gonja

Chronicles from Gonja collects and translates several Arabic manuscripts of a historical nature from kingdom of Gonja. Founded sometime in the mid-16th century by a warrior from the Mali Empire, Gonja was later made a tributary of the Asante Empire. However, the longstanding ties of trade in gold, kola nuts, textiles, and other goods had connected northern Ghana with the Western Sudan region since the Middle Ages. Even before the foundation of Gonja as a conquest state, Wangara merchants had already been active in the region. After its establishment, the warrior "estate" then established a close alliance with the Wangara and Islamic scholars. Later, Asante expansion northward in the 18th century began to encroach upon Gonja, eventually reducing it to a vassal state. Nonetheless, Gonja's literate Muslims were active in Kumase, writing charms, serving as advisors, and recording chronicles, letters, and prayers. 

The texts translated by Levtzion and commented upon by Ivor Wilks and Bruce Haight mainly date from the 18th and 19th centuries. The more substantial ones, such as the Tarikh Ghinja and the Kitab Ghanja, essentially present the history of Gonja's rulers from its origins in the 16th century to the second half of the 18th century. One even adopts the typical form of annals of the style of Islamic historiography. Nonetheless, many of the texts translated here reflect low standards of literacy or fluency in the Arabic tongue. Perhaps the scarcity of paper or the lower state of scholars who produced copies of older manuscripts is to blame here. Despite these aforementioned problems, and issues of copyists incorrectly replacing Bighu with Segu or confusing the names of Gonja sultans, the texts do provide a wealth of information on the region of northern Ghana and surrounding areas. 

The Wangara and/or Malinke elements were a bridge who linked the Akan peoples to the south with the Western Sudan, trans-Saharan trade, and, undoubtedly, with the Hausa trade in kola nuts. Indeed, sources such as the Wangara Chronicle indicate how influential Muslim Malinke traders were in Hausaland, just as their presence in Gonja was inextricably linked to Gonja's ruling estate, the Ngbanya. So, in a sense, the Wangara were a bridge connecting areas like Gonja and Dagomba with the Western and Central Sudan. Indeed, a rare reference to a man of Borno in Kafaba in the Tarikh Ghunja, if reliable, indicates a Borno presence in this region early in Gonja's existence. In addition, an allusion to the death of a Gonja pilgrim in a village of Katsina, while returning from Mecca, testifies to another dimension of Gonja's ties to the Central Sudan. Instead of, say, taking a pilgrimage route that went to the Middle Niger Valley and then crossed the Sahara, this pilgrim, at least on his return trip, traveled through Hausaland. Thus, in our eyes, the northern region of Ghana offer an intriguing case of a region with close ties to both the Western and Central Sudan, contributing to the formation of trading diasporas linked by gold, kola nuts, and Islam. 

Cuban Espiritismo

 

Who would have thought that there are videos of a Cuban Espiritismo ritual said to have Taino or indigenous influences online? This cordon ritual in which participants form a circle and chant, sing, etc. supposedly has strong indigenous influences in eastern Cuba. These indigenous traces are not immediately apparent yet it seems like that an indigenous and an African fusion of sorts occurred here. 

Isis

Although it has been a few years since we have read Apuleius, we found Religion for Breakfast's video on the spread of the cult of Isis in the Roman Empire to be fascinating. And though not mentioned here, the cult of Isis was also important in Kush. To what extent was the cult of Isis and the glimpses of it available in Apuleius's novel representative for Isis worship in Kush or Meroe?