Thoughts on The Contribution of Sayfawa Ulama to the Study of Islam C. 1086-1846 A.D

 Abubakar Mustapha's "The Contribution of Sayfawa Ulama to the Study of Islam C. 1086-1846 A.D." is an important but highly flawed work. Whilst occasionally proposing novel interpretations to controversial topics or themes in the history of Kanem and Borno, Mustapha's work often fails from a historical perspective. For instance, the questionable attempts to date the Islamization of Kanem to a period before Hummay, the speculative attempt to read Shi'a influences in the Mune, or the acceptance of al-Bakri's report of a rumor of Umayyads in Kanem illustrate real weaknesses in historical analysis. Thus, Mustapha was only partly successful in terms of offering a new approach to the history of Islam and Islamic study in Kanem and Borno. 

The most egregious case is in his attempt to antedate the Islamization of Kanem to a period before late 11th century. Although we have broached the question in our own speculative writings, Mustapha let wishful thinking shape his analysis. Naturally, he is likely correct about some Muslims trading in or reaching Kanem by the 9th century, but it seems quite unlikely that all the maiwa from Bulu to Abd al-Jalil were already Muslims. One also wonders about his interpretation of Uqba b. Nafi's expedition to Kawar in the 7th century. For Mustapha, "All available evidence seems to suggest that Uqba must have converted the people as they had shown not only their willingness and desire to accept Islam but also had demonstrated their support by giving him three hundred and sixty people to reinforce his army" (p. 19. Given the fact that our early sources on Uqba b. Nafi's escapades in the Fezzan and Kawar were written down centuries later, there is nothing that definitely establishes local converts to Islam at such an early date. Certainly by the 9th century, however, there were Muslims in Kawar and likely Kanem. But Mustapha wants this early wave of Muslim traders or itinerant preachers to have somehow achieved the conversion of the masses in Kanem before Hummay or the rulers of Kanem. 

A similar problem connected to dating the Islamization of Kanem can be found in the Umayyads and al-Bakri. Admitting his speculative reasoning here, Mustapha proposes identifying Hummay or Umme with the Umayyads. To be fair, he is no more ridiculous here than H.R. Palmer was on a number of grounds. But the main source for the Umayyad refugees reaching Kanem was al-Bakri, who knew little about Kanem and reported the Umayyad tale as something he heard asserted by "some" (see Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, p. 64. Consequently, we have far too little in terms of firm evidence for dating the Islamization of Kanem to a period from Bulu onwards. And in spite of Mustapha's useful analysis of the mahram issued to Muhammad b. Mani by Hummay, which outlines multiple generations of maiwa studying the Koran with Mani, there is not enough to truly establish which mai was the first Muslim ruler. Certainly, the account of Ibn Sa'id seems suggest it was in the later half of the 11th century. But the possible Ibadi influence in early Kanem and the appearance of Muslim names like Abd al-Jalil before Hummay demonstrate some degree of Islamic influence. For Mustapha, however, Mani would not have taught non-Muslims to read the Koran due to the precepts of the Islamic faith (to what extent this was true remains unclear, particularly for this period). Yet the largest problem facing Mustapha is a problematic source which is used to claim al-Aswani reported the rulers of Kanem were Muslims. Since al-Aswani was quoted by later authors like al-Maqrizi who mixed different sources or their own prose into their work, the section describing Kanem from al-Maqrizi's work appears to be drawn from more recent sources. Yet Mustapha tried to use this to problematically affirm an early Islamization of Kanem's ruling house by the late 10th century. 

Despite these issues with Mustapha's attempt to backdate the origins of Islam in Kanem, there are useful insights to be found. For instance, he claims Katuri is the Kanuri form of AbdulKadir, while Shu is Shuaib. If true, this is intriguing for increasing the number of early maiwa with Islamic names. Through his fieldwork, he also quotes a Kanuri song referring to the "Waseti" (Berbers) of Zaila, Tripoli, Dirku, and Siggidim as friends of the mai (p. 25). The close ties to Kawar, where Islam had penetrated by the 9th century, was undoubtedly important for the gradual spread of Islam further south in Kanem. Mustapha also finds evidence of the Ibadi influence in Kanem through the Kanuri term Liman Kaumi, similar to the Ibadi way of referring to their imams as Imam al-Qawni. Perhaps even the Kanuri term for North Africans, waseri, was derived from the Wasiliyya name applied to the Ibadis. Lastly, the possible role of the Tura Tazan in the teaching of literacy or philosophy is an intriguing notion, albeit not backed by much.

Similar problems abound the later chapters of Mustapha's study. Claims of the Shi'a influence on the Mune appear to be based on little more than similar verses used in the Mune and a letter written to an early Muslim governor of Egypt in the 7th century. Naturally, one must also wonder about the alleged role of Egyptians in the opening of the Mune during Dunama Dibalemi's reign. Why exactly this led to a shift toward a more Sunni orientation is not entirely clear, yet it's tied to the Ayyubids takeover in Egypt after the Shi'ite Fatimids. For much of his framework here, Mustapha relies heavily on the Idarah and the general narrative on Borno history which appears in that Arabic text, included as an appendix in the thesis. This is used as a larger framework for contextualizing the development of Islamic education and legal studies in Kanem and Borno until 1846. We waited in vain for an explanation of who Muhammad Yanbu was or the background to the Idarah and Kitab al-Borno which clearly were central to how Mustapha divided the history of the Sayfawa. 

Despite the quibbles and issues with contradictory and problematic assertions by Mustapha, he raises a number of legitimate and intriguing questions about the history of Islam in Kanem and Borno. He also challenges attempts to use the Shurb al-Zulal as a reformist text critical of al-Barnawi's time. There is value here in terms of how Mustapha elucidates the steps in an Islamic education in Borno. This is then followed by an overview of advanced Islamic study which led to the influence of kalam in later centuries. This period, in which the questions and answers raised by local scholars in their writings became more abstract and hypothetical, is an interesting notion that needed more explicit examples to properly refute authors like Bivar, Lavers, and Hiskett. Fortunately, more recent scholars have contributed to the study of Ajami in Borno contexts with regard to the Tarjumo used for tafsir. With additional scholarship on the intellectual output of Borno scholars, researchers can hopefully expand upon Mustapha's contributions here. 

Monk's Body and Soul

Somehow we forgot about the unique Monk take of "Body and Soul." Played solely by Monk, one can appreciate his quirky and playful approach to standards. Hat and Beard was likely having a lot of fun on the keyboard as he sought to take the material into new directions. His toying around with dissonant or unexpected notes shows a lighter, more humorous approach to "Body and Soul."

Organa, Kuri Gana and Kagha: Speculating on Kanem in the Dulcert Map (1339)

  

Although this is speculative, we have long considered "Organa" in European planispheres, portolan charts, and maps to have been a reference to Kanem and Borno. Some consider "Organa" to have been Ouargla in the Sahara, but the inscriptions in maps from the 1300s and 1400s suggest Kanem and Borno. The strongest evidence of this identification is the Latin inscription from the 1339 portolan chart of Angelino Dulcert. To our knowledge, this is the earliest European source to use the toponym of Organa ("Orgena"). But what makes its identification as Kanem more likely is the Latin inscription's reference to naked black populations attacked by Organa's Saracen king. Moreover, these peoples allegedly lived by a sea. The best candidate for this area is therefore Lake Chad, where we know the rulers of Kanem occasionally engaged in wars or raids with non-Muslim societies near Lake Chad. 

Indeed, the Latin inscription for Organa reads, "Iste rex Saracenus permanet senper in armis cum Saracenis maritimis, scilicet cum una tera Nigroom qui senper vadunt nudi et sine aliquo vestimento." The French translation of De la Roncière rendered this as "Ce roi des Sarrasins demeure toujours en guerre avec les Sarrazins des bords de la mer, c'est-à-dire avec les  nègres qui vont toujours nus, sans le moindre vêtement." The "tera Nigroom" is likely a reference to a "black land" or "land of the blacks," but also close to a sea or body of water. The best candidate for this is Kanem, although it is possible a Saharan region like Ouargla was confused with Kanem further south. To strengthen the identification of Organa as Kanem, one can also note that its position east of Mali and south from Sicily onward points toward the Lake Chad area.

But in 1339, other sources do speak to the kingdom of Kanem engaging in wars or raids against "black" people who lived near a large body of water. According to Dierk Lange's chronology based on the Diwan of Kanem-Borno, there was a king named Kuri Gana (Kuri the Younger) who reigned in c. 1339. This king was said to have died in war with the "Sao" at Ghaliwa, possibly Ngala. This king's name in Kanuri was produced in Nachtigal's list in Sahara and Sudan of Sayfawa maiwa as Kure ghana Ben Abd Allah, dated to 1350. Since Lange's chronology "works best" for the Sayfawa, a date of c. 1339 seems more likely. This date also happens to be around the same time that Dulcert's portolan chart listed a place called Organa. Consequently, one wonders if the name of Kanem's mai, Kuri Gana, was perhaps deformed into "Organa" across the Mediterranean. Then, Kuri Gana's name became the established name for the toponym representing the Kanem/Borno areas. This would require the name of Kanem's mai to have reached Dulcert quite quickly, however. Even if he rose to the throne a year or two before 1339, his name would have had to have reached Dulcert rapidly in order to appear in a corrupted form on a map in 1339.

Exactly how the initial letter was dropped is unclear, but the idea of a Saracen king fighting "naked" dark-skinned people by a sea might match Kuri Gana and the Sayfawa. After all, the Diwan attributed the death of Kuri Gana and 3 other maiwa to wars with the "Sao" in this period. Moreover, if one follows Palmer in Bornu Sahara and Sudan, Kuri Gana (named Kore al-Saghir here) died at N'geliwa, in the area of Marte. This area in the 1300s would have been closer to the shores of Lake Chad and perhaps explain why reports of a "Saracen" king fighting "black" people without clothes by a sea reached Dulcert. Since it is unlikely that areas near the Mediterranean coast would have been defined as a "black land" (perhaps based on the Arabic term for the land of the blacks), Kanem and the Lake Chad region are the best fit for "Organa" in 1339. 

The next step to confirm this pet theory would be to examine subsequent mentions of Organa in the 1300s and 1400s European cartographic corpus. Understanding how the name Kuri Gana would have been pronounced in 14th century Kanembu or the routes through which it was deformed in Arabic and Latin are additional necessary steps. Resolving the later conflation of Organa and Ouargla (or another Saharan region) is also necessary.  More importantly, if the toponym Organa really was derived from the name of a Kanem king who reigned at the end of the 1330s, it would partially confirm the maiwa of this era engaging in wars with the "Sao" on the other side of Lake Chad, in Borno. Our theory might also have more merit than the often playful and inventive linguistic wordplay and reconstruction of Palmer.

That said, the Kagha (origin of the term kaigama) seems like a reasonable contender, too. The word Kagha seems to have been established in medieval Arabic sources by the end of the 1200s for designating part of Borno (Jaja, Kaka, Kagha). But how that transmogrified into Organa is unclear. The Kuri Gana or Kore Gana etymology we proposed may explain the appearance of the "gana" part of "Organa" but also requires dropping the initial k and a vowel. It also is unlikely that a Kanem king with such a short reign possibly right before the time Dulcert's map was finished could be the source of the toponym Organa (Orgena). The Kagha theory is more likely.

St. Thomas with Emmet Cohen

We are loving these older performances of Emmet Cohen and other musicians. Their version of the Sonny Rollins classic is quite faithful yet modern. The drummer plays just like Max Roach did several decades ago, but with an exuberance and youthful spirit. Cohen is also great on piano, alluding to other songs in his solo. He sounds like he's having a blast. 

Kanuri Women of Borno (Nigeria): Perspectives from the Little Kingdom of Musune

Editha Platte's Kanuri Women of Borno (Nigeria): Perspectives from the Little Kingdom of Musune is a fascinating but often flawed work on a topic still neglected by those interested in the history of the Kanuri. Unfortunately, this work, which appears to contain parts of her dissertation and subsequent research, was not translated well from the German. It is usually not enough to hinder understanding, but when combined with the repetition of pages in later sections, it is enough to make the last third of the text an arduous enterprise. The second half, focusing on the life cycles experienced by Kanuri women from birth to marriage, child-rearing, and divorce or widowhood, sorely lacked a conclusion to connect it with the earlier part of the book on titles held by Kanuri women. 

One was also expecting a conclusion to connect it to the possible question of looking at the Kanuri mai mbauji for possible insights into how the Sayfawa court was organized and run. After all, if these smaller chiefdoms or princedom courts, which were ruled by local dynasties who once occupied a vassal status as tributaries to Birni Gazargamo, could possibly shed light on that topic, it would have been of interest to see that argument made explicitly or with strong examples. Some of this likely can be found in a few of the older studies or inaccessible German resources or a more thorough reading on our part of the works of Cohen on the question of women and queen mothers. 

Nonetheless, Platte apparently did not wish to engage in a more detailed historical study using the various written sources from the precolonial era which do contain allusions to women titleholders and royal women. Indeed, thanks to Platte, we began to take another look at some of the mahrams in Palmer's Bornu Sahara and Sudan and references to elite women in Muhammad Yanbu's work. Some of the connections were, in fact, quite obvious and we are embarrassed to admit we did not do this earlier. For instance, the sokotoma Aisha  bt. Ali, who was mentioned in one of the mahrams, was likely the eldest daughter of the mai. Platte also makes fascinating references to the donning of male garb in some of the installation rituals for female titleholders among the Pabir, Bolwa, and other groups. One cannot help but wonder if some of these rites, forms of seclusion, and use of male dress were also part of Sayfawa court practice for the maira or moworam. 

Also of use is Platte's reference to some of the then-recent theories about the "Sao" and Kotoko. If Musune was once a "Sao" center that transitioned into a Kotoko polity whose ruling class later claimed Maumi origin (Maami-Ariwa, though commoners were of the Ngaala clan), then Musune's history can be contextualized within the broader context of ethnic and political changes in Borno from the 1200s to the 1500s. This model of Platte assumed the "Sao" were building centers or towns at places like Musune by the 1200s (by c. 1300 for Musune). Possible proof can be found in the giant "Sao" pots in this region, dated from the 1200s-1400s. Then, a Kotoko identity gradually emerged as the Massa expanded northward. This led to the absorption or displacement of the "Sao" already in the area. Subsequent changes began when the expansionist Sayfawa state in the 1500s began to incorporate the former "Sao" and Kotoko polities. Somehow, although it is not clear from the evidence utilized by Platte, Musune transitioned from a possible Sao-Tatala affiliation to Kotoko by the 1500s. Presumably, the new ruling dynasty was installed by the Sayfawa (or they began to claim common origin with the regional hegemon). 

To what extent this aforementioned (and tentative) historical overview is accurate for Musune or the Kotoko is up for debate. One also wonders why Platte was perhaps more persuaded by the idea of the Sayfawa in Borno borrowing some of its titles or court practices from local "Sao" groups. For instance, the central role played by elite women as titleholders in the Sayfawa court in Kanem can be partially glimpsed from the Diwan for the 1100s. And why the Sayfawa would have needed to borrow so heavily from groups who, according to Platte, did not develop more elaborate political formations until the 1200s or 1300s, is not addressed. But as an introduction to one of the Kanuri princedoms of Borno and the life cycle of the Kanuri women, there is an ample amount of fascinating information. 

The Larabaramma and Sokotoma

Whilst reading Editha Platte's work on Musune and women titleholders in Borno, we have been forced to revisit some of the other sources which mention women in the Sayfawa court. One person mentioned in passing from a mahram dated by Palmer in Bornu Sahara and Sudan to 1704 was Gûsa Larabaramma. Identified as the daughter of Dunama b. Ali (who reigned from c. 1696-1715, in Lange's chronology), she served as the bab for the Fulani recipients of the renewed grant (p. 37). 

Well, the Larabaramma part of this princess's name might be connected with one of the gates of Birni Gazargamo. According to Kyari Tijani's Dynamics of administrative change in pre-colonial Borno: A Comparative Study of the Sayfawa and Kanemi Dynasties, a gate of the Sayfawa capital was named Larabaram. The meaning of the name could have been related to a Wednesday market held in that part of the capital city, although this is speculation on Tijani's part (p. 185). 

One also wonders if the title of larabaramma was one usually assigned to royal daughters of the mai in the days of Birni Gazargamo. If so, this is yet another government function of royal women in precolonial Borno. To what extent she was involved in managing that part of the capital (or the gate?) is not clear, but Tijani's theory linking that gate to a market may mean it involved revenues from market taxes or adjudicating conflicts in the area. Her function as a "gate" for the Fulani associated with the mahram document may reflect her position as someone who could connect visitors who came through that gate with the royal court. As an elite woman, she likely had oversight of lower-level officials or enslaved people to carry out these tasks.

Another title from the same mahram was held by a sister of Dunama b. Ali. Named Ayesha, she was the sokotoma to whom passed the recipients of the mahram. Presumably, this meant their grant, which allegedly began as early as the reign of Ali b. Dunama in the late 1400s, included lands overseen or near chima held by Ayesha bt. Ali b. Umar? Despite the wacky and questionable theories of Palmer on the derivation of this title, a clue to its actual meaning in the Sayfawa court came from a footnote in Editha Platte's Kanuri Women of Borno (Nigeria): Perspectives From the Little Kingdom of Musune. On page 110, she mentioned in passing that in Bagirmi, the eldest of the king's daughter bore the special title of tschukkotoma. Well, upon reviewing Annie M.D. Lebeuf's article, "Le royaume du Baguirmi" from Princes et serviteurs du royaume: cinq études de monarchies africaines, this same title appears as cikotma (p. 174). Given the strong influences on Bagirmi from Borno, we highly suspect that sokotoma in this context merely meant the eldest daughter of the king. Thus, Ayesha (Aisha) was the eldest daughter of Ali b. Umar. Given that senior position among the daughters of the mai, she likely held much influence and was therefore a natural choice for oversight of the grantees of the mahram. 

Since we are still in the process of reading Platte's book, we hope to encounter additional surprises or learn more about elite women in the Sayfawa court. It is possible that smaller maiships in places like Musune have conserved practices which were more common in Gazargamo than the subsequent al-Kanemi dynasty. Perhaps there are more insights to be gained from Musune or other polities in the wider region that could shed light on the various responsibilities and powers of women under the Sayfawa. Certainly the possible involvement of a royal daughter in administering the area of one of Gazargamo's gates is important. But also their role in managing relations with respected mallams as the case of Aisha illustrates is an example of (elite) women participating in the state's actions as an Islamic power, upholding the benefits to descendants of reputable Islamic figures like the Gabidâma.

The Forgotten Occupation

 

As soon as we found Alain Martin's documentary, The Forgotten Occupation, was on Tubi for streaming, we had to watch it. Unfortunately, it was a disappointing experience. By sticking to the framework of the documentary on the brutal US military occupation of Haiti as a "letter" to his late grandfather, a right-winger with pro-US views, the documentary was unable to provide a coherent overview of the US Occupation. Naturally, no documentary of about 90 minutes in length could cover everything. But the constant juggling by the narrator back and forth between the period in question, something about his grandfather, or shots of Haiti today (with commentary on the abyssmal, horrific state of the country), consumed a lot of screentime.

That said, there is much to enjoy in the film, even if one does not find Martin's grandfather to be a very compelling or interesting figure (perhaps explaining why someone who seemed to prefer authoritarian governments left Haiti in 1967 would have humanized him?). The documentary covers most of the major players, such as Smedley Butler, Russell, Dartiguenave, Charlemagne Peralte, and more. But one is also left scratching their head by the significant omissions. No Jean Price-Mars, for instance, and no mention of Jacques Roumain, Georges Sylvain or the Union Patriotique? Nothing said about Borno and Vincent and the shenanigans that preceded the final conclusion of the Occupation and its aftermath? We were hoping for a more nuanced and comprehensive documentary that could cover some of these well-known figures involved in this. Instead,  due to time constraints, much of it is alluded to very briefly or obliquely. This does a disservice to the types of insights and research that could have covered the Marchaterre Massacre, the activism and journalism of Jolibois fils, or the contradictions and ramifications of indigénisme in Haiti. With recent research on figures like Jolibois fils or the experiences of Haitian migrant workers in Cuba and the DR during this period, a lot was not included in the film. 

Despite these aforementioned problems, we did enjoy the documentary. There are some especially striking photographs, videos, and audio segments, including key US figures during the Occupation. Peralte and the cacos were covered as well as some of the abuses of the US Occupation. And to some extent, the documentary did succeed in establishing how this period from 1915-1934 did set Haiti on a path for more centralized, authoritarian regimes that followed. One just wishes there was a documentary focusing just on the Occupation itself, with some analysis of what followed near the end to convince a popular audience why it is relevant today. By muddling the narrative and running out of time, a lot of essential developments during the Occupation were lost.