Michel Aubourg's Haïti préhistorique: mémoire sur les cultures précolombiennes, Ciboney et Taino is too outdated and far too brief to offer much for modern researchers interested in the indigenous past of the island. Nonetheless, the first part of the text is a nice overview of the history of Haitian archaeology with copious references to studies by professional and amateur archaeologists. In fact, the major value of Aubourg's brief study is the overview of these past excavations and surveys. Many of the studies cited by Aubourg, unfortunately, are dated articles from the Bureau d'Ethnologie's bulletin (often too short) or other studies offering antiquated information and theories about the indigenous peoples of the Greater Antilles. However, the references to findings by archaeologists who reported Indian findings in areas such as La Gonave, Ile a Vache, the Artibonite Valley, Fort Liberte or other areas in the North are worthy of reading and deserve subsequent visits by archaeologists. For instance, the reports of ballcourts in Haiti and the possible archaeological proof of irrigation canals in Xaragua should be expanded upon to enhance our knowledge of indigenous cultures on the island. Alas, the second half of the text is a quick summary of Ciboney and Taino periods using a chronology based on that of Rouse. Much of the information is rather outdated, particularly with evidence of earlier ceramic traditions in the Archaic period in the Antilles. Still, the many references to sources on archaeological research in Haiti are of use, particularly for those interested in understanding the history of archaeology and the indigenous past in the development of Haitian ethnology.
Hénock Trouillot's Le gouvernement du roi Henri Christophe offers a broad overview of the kingdom of Haiti under Henri Christophe. Based on archival sources, newspaper accounts written in the Republic to the South, and the descriptions of travelers and writers like Dumesle, Trouillot endeavored to reconstruct the history of Christophe's state. Recognizing that most of our writings on Christophe from the Republic were authored by ideological and political opponents of the kingdom, Trouillot attempted to offer a balanced assessment of Christophe's government. Instead of seeing him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, Christophe's state was a totalitarianism avant la lettre which sought to build a modern black nation through a strong economy and well-ordered polity. One sees this through Christophe's fortifications and national defense policy, protection of national commerce and promotion of Haitian industry and labor, and economic, educational and political policies that regulated social life while creating clear hierarchies in which the rights of the cultivateur were, at least on paper, protected.
Due to Trouillot's desire to shed a more positive light on Christophe's kingdom, one can see how every policy pursued by Christophe, even before the death of Dessalines, was connected to establishing a firm foundation for a wealthy, civilized, and well-defended state. Surrounded by slaveholding powers in a hostile world, Christophe, like Toussaint and Dessalines, believed the island's fate lied in reestablishing agriculture and industry. Christophe accomplished this with a system in which the large estates were preserved and distributed to a nobility appointed by him. Paying 1/4 of the proceeds of the estates to the state and 1/4 to the laborers, Christophe instituted a system of taxation and strict controls to ensure the recipients of land grants performed their duty of producing sugar, coffee, and other exports. Christophe's state relied on the military and police to ensure the laborers did not leave the estates without permission, too. However, the laborers were, at least in theory, the recipients had access to government redress in cases of exploitation. In addition, Christophe's state was wealthy. The successful system of production adopted in the kingdom, based on that of the earlier system used by Dessalines, Toussaint and Sonthonax, left about 30 million gourdes in the state treasury. This wealth came from sound economic policies and a system of land tenure in which the state was ever-ready to ensure consistent production and pursue international trade (most favorably with Britain).
In addition to Christophe's system of land administration, he promoted national industry and commerce. Christophe spent dearly for foreign teachers, artisans, expertise and technicians to train local Haitians. His educational policy, which appears to have still been in a limited form by the time of his death in 1820, included an ambitious program that would have, if he had the time, probably reached all corners of the state. Nonetheless, his policies did succeed in promoting the training of a cadre of Haitian artisans and technicians. Indeed, even what at first seems like a waste of funds on Christophe's fine palaces, chateaux and monuments, was actually an expenditure that mostly employed Haitian labor and artisans. This further encouraged the development of Haitian skilled labor while also ensuring that the appointed nobility would also employ or seek the services of Haitian skilled laborers on their own projects. Christophe's success in this regard, combined with the success of higher agricultural production, ensured his state was far wealthier than the southern republic. One can see how his lavish palaces and monuments were spent in ways that could support local industry and the development of a local economy.
Sadly, the lack of additional sources, particularly on taxation and imports and exports, prohibits a deeper understanding of Christophean state's political economy. Nonetheless, with what has survived and made it into the Haitian National Archives, Trouillot's analysis affirms the kingdom's economic wealth. It was exactly the type of state which, despite its internal problems (the use of forced labor, the limitations on the movement of cultivateurs and the attempts to prohibit Vodou) was likely to build and consolidate a strong nation-state in a sea of hostile powers. Unlike the republic to the south, Christophe's kingdom was a centralized administration in which the state played a direct role in nearly every area. Christophe's success could be seen in that his treasury contained an estimated 30 million gourdes when he died, with most of it looted and pillaged by his disloyal subjects, leaving only an estimated 9 million for Boyer's government (according to Trouillot). His grandiose vision had even included a plan to recruit 40,000 African recaptives through negotiations with the British, presumably using these Africans to supplement his army. This was a brilliant strategy that, if there had been sufficient time, could have helped save Christophe from the rebels who pushed him to commit suicide. Lamentably, Christophe's regime perished and a reunified Haiti, under Boyer, agreed to the onerous indemnification of France.
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Some of Ramito's music is so enchanting and beautiful. This particular number, supposedly in the style of Caguas, is irresistible.
Although its brevity diminishes its use, Dan Tafa's Rawdat’l-Afkaar is a fascinating local source on the history of Hausaland and the Central Sudan. Presumably drawing on oral traditions and other written sources, Shaykh Dan Tafa's brief account outlines the history of the "Sudan" and in particular, the Hausa states. Gobir's history in particular is quite important given that Shaykh Uthman dan Fodio lived in Gobir before the jihad that led to the establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate. What is particularly interesting for our purposes, however, are the references to Borno and earlier epochs in the history of the Hausa states of the area.
First, Borno. According to Shaykh Dan Tafa, Borno once dominated all or most of Hausaland. And, according to him, it was Gobir which first refused to pay tribute to Borno. However, Borno was never able to, according to Dan Tafa, conquer Air or Ahir. However, he does corroborate the role of Borno in coming to the aid of Ahir against the Kanta of Kebbi in the 1500s. Indeed, a brief account of mai Ali's battles with the Kanta of Kebbi can be found in Dan Tafa's chronicle. One also finds the familiar tradition of a man appointed to rule Hausaland by the ruler of Borno in the distant past, although one wonders if the translator's choice of the term "political captive" is accurate. Using that terminology might lead one to suspect slaves were appointed to administer subject provinces due to the greater expectation of loyalty, yet the actual conditions and type of provincial rulers or leaders could have been different when speaking of early Borno expansion into Hausaland. Indeed, even the question of tribute and what it actually entailed brings to mind one Nigerian's scholar's important point about reconsidering the relations between Hausaland and Borno as one of empire or Bornoan or Kanuri imperialism. Indeed, when Dan Tafa explains how an increasingly powerful Gobir demanded tribute from other Hausa states, it is also stated that Gobir sent fine gifts of horses as well. So, the gifts or tribute given to Gobir were reciprocated and it is not clear to what extent Gobir exerted any real control of tributary states. One can assume that a similar relationship existed when the Hausa states sent tribute to Borno through Daura. In fact, Heinrich Barth's description of Katsina's relationship with Borno seems to confirm this.
Unsurprisingly, however, the bulk of the short work is most useful for the history of Gobir and Hausaland. While its chronology is not always clear or perhaps is unreliable, it does offer some tentative and clear chronologies for certain events in the history of the region. First of all, Amina of Zaria or Zakzak is said to have raided as far southwest as the Atlantic Ocean. While this is perhaps exaggeration, one wonders if, when using the dates suggested by the Kano Chronicle, one can perhaps detect Zaria raiding and trading as far south as Yorubaland in the 1400s. Where the chronology seems more than a little unreliable, or perhaps earlier Gobir rulers were forgotten, is Dan Tafa's allusion to an alliance of Agabba of Ahir, Muhammad ibn Chiroma of Gobir and the ruler of Zamfara against Kebbi. If accurate, this would suggest a date in the late 1600s or during the reign of Muhammad Agabba of Air (who also established the sultanate of Adar through his line). However, Dan Tafa's chronicle claims Muhammad ibn Chiroma was the son of the first ruler of Gobir after their expulsion from Air, an event which must have occurred centuries earlier than the late 1600s and early 1700s. Thus, Chiroma was either the first "Gobir" king or the earlier rulers before they firmly established themselves as the kings of Gobir were forgotten or not recalled by Dan Tafa's sources.
Despite the omission of Gobir's political history before the late 17th century and early 18th, Dan Tafa's account gives the reader an idea of Gobir's political power in Hausaland and in relation to its neighbors. Indeed, they were so bold as to attack the outskirts of Borno and Bawa, who ruled in the late 1700s, refused to send or pay tribute to Borno. One also finds interesting allusions to the power of Kebbi in the 1500s, particularly when its ruler established a capital at Surami that received water brought by the Tuareg who were forced to do so. Although Kebbi's power lasted for only about a century, one benefits from learning a few more details about this powerful Hausa state. Sadly, Kwararafa is only mentioned briefly and one is left in the dark about this southern power.
Lewis Hanke's The First Social Experiments in America is a problematic yet fascinating account of the attempts to "reform" an Amerindian population to live liked "civilized" 16th century Spanish peasants. Since it is a dated work originally written in the 1930s, the author draws interesting analogies between these early attempts at "civilizing" a colonized people with 20th century attempts in Africa and elsewhere. In addition, the author seems to also have accepted theories of racial difference in intelligence or mental development. Consequently, he assumes the experiencia and attempted reforms in which Taino Indians were an experiment to see if Indians were capable of living "politically" like people with reason, were perhaps doomed to failure. However, in the most detailed example of the author, the experiencia in the 1530s near Bayamo, Cuba, the social experiment largely failed due to the corrupt administrator, Guerrero, who abused, exploited, and neglected the Indians placed under his supervision and failed to live up to his end of the arrangement. So, can one truly say from that experience that the Indians of the Greater Antilles lacked the ability to live as people with reason?
Sure, perhaps the ultimate aim of these social experiments, which was to turn the Indians into peasants of Castile, was likely impossible in the colonial conditions of its era, but some of the colonists interviewed by the Jeronymites in the 1510s were able to acknowledge that the indigenous people of Hispaniola were capable of agriculture, living in communities, and having political order before the Spanish conquest. Where Hanke's book is more useful is in its references and the occasional commentary. While later historians such as Guitar and Anderson-Cordova have used similarly sources on the Taino response to Spanish conquest and the encomienda system in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, Hanke uses these sources from a slightly different perspective. Since he was not interested in the social experiments from the perspective of the Indians themselves, his lens was quite different. But intriguingly, even he found evidence of resistance among the indigenes of the Spanish Caribbean. For instance, Miguel de Pasamonte's opposition to freedom of Indians due to the danger of them being friends with the black population illustrates the severity of Spanish fears of Indian and African alliances at the time of the Jeronymite Interrogatory.
Similarly, the experiment of Ovando, which began in 1508 when he granted repartimientos to 2 educated caciques, Alonso de Caceres and Pedro Colon, only to see that these Western-educated Taino caciques failed to uplift or turn their charges into civilized Indians. Instead of viewing them as failures, perhaps these literate and educated caciques understood and knew how their authority was based or rooted in pre-conquest norms and kinship, thus they could not or would not force their assigned Indians to live like Spaniards. Even the cacique Don Francisco of Bonao and the "doctor" of Santiago acted similarly, which may illustrate again how some Taino elites sought to use their Spanish knowledge and education to protect their communities. One wonders similarly about the 3 villages of free Indians in the "experiment" of Rodrigo de Figueroa in Hispaniola. Of course, like the later experiencia in Cuba, Figueroa was accused of corruption and the villagers were almost certainly exploited and abused by the Spanish administrators assigned to watch over them. Perhaps even the Francisco de Figueroa who received 16 Indians as experimental gold miners, to see if Indians were capable of mining for gold without being coerced to do so by the Spanish, could be an example of Indian resistance since they only produced a paltry amount of gold and chose to organize their time and labor in a manner closer to preconquest patterns.
Although Fernando Ortiz's La musica y los areitos de los indios de Cuba is rather outdated, it still offers some very interesting insights on the areito and Cuba's indigenous musical influences. Written after his also dated essay on hurricane as a god to the Taino or indigenes of the Antilles, Ortiz sets out to establish the character of the areito, its social, religious and economic functions, and the weakness or general absence of indigenous influences in Cuba's music today. A large part of this is demolishing the wrong-headed notion of a surviving areito by Anacaona, which is nothing but a song or chant of Kikongo origin and which was sung in colonial-era Haiti. Interestingly, Ortiz sees the maraca as a possible example of indigenous influence on Cuban music but otherwise, Cuba's music is largely of European and African origin. The areito itself is demonstrated in its various facets, including drawing upon accounts of it we are not familiar with (such as one describing Indians in Trinidad, Cuba, singing and dancing during a hurricane). Ortiz, drawing from the Spanish chroniclers and ethnographic analogies with other indigenous people, sees the areito as something which was associated with war, divination, genealogies, history, and cemis. And, perhaps, like Moscoso once wrote, as "forced" redistribution that helped prevent the accumulation of too much wealth for the elites.
That songs were taught to the sons of caciques suggests the rise of rank and status as important parts of the areito, particularly for those who hosted them due to the exorbitant costs involved (in providing food and drink). The areito's religious associations, particularly with the prominence of behiques and the association with decisions that affected the collective were particularly important. What we found interesting however, was the notion of some areitos as rites of passage, an idea substantiated by indigenous cultures in other parts of the Americas. Sadly, we lack any real notion of what the music really sounded like, but since it was mainly based on voice and rhythm, Ortiz rejects notions that see fine melodies in Cuban music as a legacy of the indigenous past. For him, Cuba's musical and dance heritage is of European and African origins. One wonders what he would make of the theory of the ceremonia del cordon being partly influenced by the areito? After all, indigenous Cubans did survive for a long time in Cuba, perhaps retaining aspects of the areito dance long after the dissolution of Taino communities.
Michel Abitbol's Tombouctou et les arma is an important work on the history of the Pashalik of the Arma. Most people often ignore the 2 centuries or so of political and social history of Timbuktu and the Niger Bend after the fall of Songhay. Abitbol's work shows just how important that later, post-Songhay period was in terms of the Pashalik's political, social, economic, and regional importance. Indeed, the Pashalik persisted for so long partly because Timbuktu continued to be a major center for commerce and bridge between the Maghrib and the Sudan, long after the decline of al-Mansur's dynasty and the end of the Askias of Gao. However, even the Askias survived in a fashion, since a branch of them became close allies with the Arma regime. And while the authority of the Pashalik was later limited to Timbuktu, Djenne, Gao and other areas of the Niger Bend, and often became reduced to a ceremonial power of investiture for Tuareg chiefs who could sometimes attack or pillage the area with impunity, the Pashas continued to be the recognized authority of Timbuktu and a major power until the rise of Macina. Intriguingly, Abitbol believed the Arma, who became acclimatized and, later on, developing dominant families who dominated the position of pasha, despite the usually short tenures, were not a class per se. Instead, they were a leadership elite of essentially military origin and function. However, their alliance with the sharifs, ulama, merchants, Askias, and ownership of large numbers of slaves (who sometimes worked the land they owned) and dependents or haratins suggest something on the nature of a class society. The rather large corpus of sources used by Abitbol also suggests Timbuktu's importance in trans-Saharan trade retained its significance, too, surpassing in overall value the exports of other areas of the Sudan to North Africa. Clearly, there was a basis for great wealth accumulation and, in one case, a Pasha who even endeavored to emulate the great emperors of Mali and Songhay, possibly with the intention of recreating their grandeur for the Pashalik.
Although her account is so brief and problematic, L'Ayiti des indiens: textes d'historiens by Odette Roy Fombrun includes a short account of a Vodou service to Anacaona as a lwa. Visiting an area in the mornes, the habitation Badè, which she did not specify the location of, Roy Fombrun saw someone possessed by Anacaona. In addition, the lakou featured a "maison" of Anacaona and honored her every year in early December. Unsurprisingly, when Anacaona possessed or mounted someone, they adopted the attitude of a queen. She received offerings of perfume and flowers, too. The other detail Roy Fombrun reported is that Anacaona was represented by a painting placed against a ship symbolizing Agwe. Apparently the painting of Anacaona was supported by an image of Erzulie Freda, which might explain why the offerings to Anacaona were the same as those of the other lwa. Perhaps this lakou's commemoration of Anacaona, like in the 21 Divisions in the DR, associated her with water (hence the Agwe connection) and with the beauty and sensuality of Erzulie Freda? At the tiny "maison" of Anacaona at this lakou, offerings of clothes were made to the cacica. Furthermore, as if to prove that this area of Haiti was populated by descendants of Indians, Roy Fombrun remarked that the inhabitants of the area en route to the lakou had Indian features.
What particularly stands out to us is the final comment of the author. She claims Gerard Fombrun owned a cigar store Indian that had been found in a houmfort. This indicates that, like some Espiritismo groups and in 21 Divisions Vodu, some Vodou temples in Haiti were using Native American statues imported from the US and incorporating them into ceremonies for Indian spirits. Like their Dominican counterparts, the particular temple visited by Roy Fombrun apparently honored Anacaona but in a way that suggests she was given some of the attributes of Erzulie Freda. The association with Agwe may be a nod to the similar association of Indian spirits with water in Dominican Vodou. However, this is the only account we have encountered suggesting such a thing. Usually water spirits like the Simbi have African antecedents or origins. However, in this case, it is possible that Anacaona was incorporated as a lwa based on Erzulie Freda and there may have been an influence from 21 Divisions. The fact that Gerard Fombrun apparently possessed a cigar store Indian that was once in a houmfort tells us that the incorporation of Indian spirits into Haitian Vodou may have been a little more widespread than one thinks, too. Geo Riply's work on Dominican Vodou suggests a Dominican influence here. Indeed, the Indian Division is associated with Saint Nicholas, whose feast day happens to be the same day Anacaona is commemorated at the site visited by Roy Fombrun. Moreover, Martha Ellen Davis's work indicates a preponderance of Indian spirits in the Dominican Southwest, probably the region close to the area visited by Roy Fombrun.
Sadly, without knowing more about the specific details of the area visited by Roy Fombrun, all we can say is that Anacaona was, or perhaps still is, honored in Haitian Vodou to some unknown extent. It appears to be in a way very similar to that in the Dominican Republic, which makes it likely that the area visited by Roy Fombrun was probably near or not too far from the Dominican Southwest. The offering made to Anacaona in a "grotte" does bring to mind Taino customs, although this worship of Anacaona undoubtedly blends African influences with whatever vestiges of Taino spirituality survive. And while there remains more work to be done on this, perhaps Haitian Vodou traditions also associated Indian spirits with the water. We have the evidence of Deita Guignard's La Légende des Loa: Vodou Haïtien that Maitre Clermaille was supposedly an Indian of the island, a Taino. However, earlier traditions recorded by Simpson contradict that, suggesting General Clermeil or Clermaille was believed by northern peasants to have been a cruel Frenchman. Others write that he was the father, not the husband, of his daughter, also associated with the sea and people with light skin.
While pursuing our latest obsession, the cacicazgo of Xaragua, we came upon a short essay by Hermann Corvington at the Digital Library of the Caribbean. While definitely dated and basically relying on familiar sources (Nau, the Spanish sources), it does seem to reflect how Haitian intellectuals of that particular moment viewed Anacaona and her brother as leaders. Indeed, the short work was apparently written after Corvington saw a play about Anacaona that was published in the 1940s. Corvington, however, tries to, admittedly without much source material, to understand why the strongest cacicazgo on the island essentially submitted to Spanish rule without putting up a fight. He believed Behechio was perhaps, due to age, guilty of a miscalculation. This is especially so since Corvington adopts the stance that Behechio was ready to fight the Spanish when he crossed paths with the Adelantado by the Neyba River. Anacaona, presented as more astute and consistent in her opposition to the Spanish, apparently went along with her brother's will despite the Spanish killing her husband, Caonabo. According to Corvington, Anacaona had probably convinced Behechio to assist or at least stand by while Caonabo killed the Spaniards at Navidad. Then, after the defeat of Caonabo and Guarionex, perhaps Behechio was wary of direct conflict with the Spaniards. At first, paying tribute to them and keeping them out of Xaragua seemed to work, at least temporarily. However, Roldan's predations and the change in policy by Ovando who decided to crush the cacicazgo spelled their doom. Whether or not Anacaona really was scheming or ploting something against the Spaniards before Ovando's massacre is not clear, though Corvington believes any scheme she had involved the Spaniards who loved her daughter. It is clear that Corvington was influenced by Emile Marcelin's historical fiction and other traditions here.
