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. 

Speculating on Early Daju History with Sultans Dadjo du Sila (Tchad)

 

Although mostly focused on Sila during the French colonial period, Henri Berre's Sultans Dadjo du Sila (Tchad) is still of use for those interested in the precolonial period. Relying on documents written by court-affiliated persons with a degree of Islamic education, the genealogies and reigns summarized by Berre were supposedly updated by subsequent rulers. To a certain extent, the genealogies are part of the fabricated Arab origin claimed by the Daju sultan, perhaps as part of the standard way to connect the ruling family's lineage back to the Arabian peninsula and important people related to the Prophet. But if one focuses on the key period from c. 1486-1916, the list may be usable. Undoubtedly, it probably omits some rulers, but a few of the kings who reigned since the establishment of the state in Sila were remembered for their relations with Wadai, Darfur, or Dar Runga. For instance, an attack from Wadai during the reign of (Yusuf) Kharifein against Sila may lend some credence to the chronology used by Berre.

Where things become messier is Nachtigal's research in this area during the 19th century. Nachtigal's list appears to have been rather different from what was supplied to the French colonial officers or administrators. For example, there is no one clearly named Gitar in Berre's list. Yet someone of that name was, in one king list, the first Daju ruler in Darfur. As if things were not already confusing, another informant indicated that the earliest Daju king was named Kosber. The apparent absence of these names in the list shared by Berre may be the result of a difference in using Daju or Arabic names for the same people. Alternatively, the list shared in the 20th century colonial era may have wished to omit "pagan" ancestors. After all, Nachtigal's list given to him by a Sila prince indicated 6 of the Daju kings based at Jebel Marra were pagans. Perhaps the rulers in the 19th century were less concerned with claiming ancestry through Yemen and the uncle of Muhammad?

Fortunately, Nachtigal and Berre's lists do provide some context for the enigmatic references to the Daju in medieval Arabic sources. While Berre's list presents the rulers as being of Arab descent and migrating to the north of Darfur, sometime from 892-1212 in the reckoning of Berre, he also places them at "Djebel Morrah" from 1212-1417. This period of the Daju sultans at Jebel Marra fits the medieval Arabic references mentioning the "Taju" or "Tajuwa" in this general area from the 1100s-1400s. If Uri was a Daju royal town or settlement, perhaps that represents the time in the north of Darfur reported by Berre? Keeping in mind that the amount of time Berre assigns to the time spent in the north of Darfur is not exact, one may surmise that the early Daju kings were based at Uri and perhaps the settlement of Samna by the late 12th century. 

For reasons not entirely clear, although perhaps related to a desire to find a more secure base, away from possible interference from Kanem or the medieval Nubian states, the Daju kings moved to Jebel Marra in central Darfur. Evidence for an interest in this region from medieval Kanem is detected in the writing of Ibn Sa'id. According to him, the "Zaghawa" and "Tajuwa" were subjects of Kanem. To Ibn Sa'id, a 'town' or region called Tajuwa represented the capital of the "Zaghawa" where Islam had started to spread. Later on, however, Ibn Sa'id's work seems to acknowledge that another group of "Tajuwa" (Daju?) were pagans residing in mountainous and desert terrains. This "Tajuwa" group was said to be refractory to the sultan of Kanem. Although Ibn Sa'id's description of the region is contradictory and must be used cautiously, there seems to be some overlap with the Daju based in Jebel Marra in the 1200s. Conflating them with the Zaghawa could have been due to the Zaghawa being better known in external Arabic sources, or possibly an alliance between some Zaghawa groups and the Daju against Kanem's expansion. 

Once established in Jebel Marra, presumably by the late 1200s, the other Arabic references are enigmatic on this polity or state. To Ibn Khaldun, the Tajuwa were simply a sort of "Zaghawa." For al-Maqrizi, however, more information is reported on them. They were apparently known for working in stone, which correlates with archaeological ruins of stone constructions in Darfur. Supposedly, their land or territory began at a place called Tukama, perhaps a locality near their base in Jebel Marra. Assuming al-Maqrizi's information was contemporaneous with his times, the Daju polity had also engaged in a number of wars against a people called Wathku. One is tempted to read this as perhaps a rival polity or an area frequently raided by the Daju rulers, perhaps located in Darfur or a neighboring region. If the list provided by one Sila prince is accurate, six pagan Daju kings ruled from Jebel Marra. These kings could easily have reigned from Jebel Marra for much of the period when the Daju kings were based there by the late 1200s. According to Tunjur oral traditions in Kanem, these Daju kings subsisted on the plundering of their neighbors. Yet knowledge of it from as far away as the Mamluk Sultanate suggests it was involved in wider trade networks.

Ultimately, the earlier history of the Daju in Darfur is not remembered in great detail in the Sila of Berre's time. Indeed, one could even question the existence of a continuous dynastic line across time and space from their period in Darfur to the sultans of Dar Sila. But some of Berre's data and regnal years could easily fit the general timeline of the Daju sultans in Darfur. Perhaps Uri became the commercial city or center whilst Jebel Marra became a political capital by the end of the 13th century. By the 16th century, however, Darfur had fallen under the suzerainty of a Tunjur, Ahmed el-Maqur. Apparently, for much of this period, the Daju kings were based in a region south of Geneina, Djebel Kadjano. This was likely the period when the "Dagio" were counted among the subjects of Uri, identified by Anania in the late 1500s. An earlier, smaller Daju presence in Sila to the west is hinted at by Berre, and claimed by Tunjur tradition in Kanem. 

In summation, the data provided by Berre is intriguing and provocative. It raises questions about a tighter chronology through the genealogies provided by the royal court in the colonial era. On the other hand, the names seem difficult to reconcile with what Nachtigal reported. Unfortunately, Nachtigal did not provide complete lists from the data he collected. But from what he reported, it would appear to enumerate different Daju dynasts than the one produced in the 20th century. Further, one Daju prince's list recognized pagan rulers from their Jebel Marra period. When juxtaposed with the medieval Arabic sources, the traditions nonetheless corroborate a possible Daju presence at Uri as well as their base in Jebel Marra. Relations with Kanem in the 13th century, particularly during and after the reign of Dunama Dibalemi, were potentially a source of friction in which the Daju rulers moved further away, building a new political center in Jebel Marra. 

Ugetsu Live

Although Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers recorded the definitive version, we were pleasantly surprised to listen to Emmet Cohen perform the piece with Bartley and Harris. This version of Walton's "Ugetsu" is spirited, passionate, and features some expressive playing from the horns. Cohen's piano solo is one of the more unique and exciting runs we have heard from him. Bartly was cooking on the alto saxophone. For a second, he even brought to mind a young Eric Dolphy staying within the confines of bop (yet screaming for freedom). 

Dynamics of Administrative Change in pre-colonial Borno: A Comparative Study of the Sayfawa and Kanemi Dynasties

Kyari Tijani's Dynamics of Administrative Change in pre-colonial Borno: A Comparative Study of the Sayfawa and Kanemi Dynasties is one of those essential studies of Borno history we have been waiting to read for three or four years. Inaccessible and difficult to access, it is a reprint of Tijani's thesis from the 1970s. As such, the publishers chose not to update the text, but they should have at least used an editor to correct the numerous mistakes or typos. That said, nothing is extreme enough to hinder comprehension for the reader. But doing so could have perhaps removed part of the lengthy introduction in which Tijani sought to apply Systems Theory to pre-colonial Borno. Or at the very least, trimmed some of it away. Nonetheless, Tijani's critical study was based on a combination of fieldwork across Borno and into Mandara (in today's Cameroon) as well as the use of local Arabic manuscripts such as the works of Muhammad Yanbu. Although Tijani himself did not read Arabic, he was able to procure translations for some of these rare sources that were products of local Borno writers and scholars in pre-colonial times. His weakness in French and German and the failure of his attempt to visit Mao in Kanem to interview locals were major flaws. This contributed to one of the weaknesses of his study, which often lacked adequate empirical evidence to support his analysis. Without the requisite language skills for deeper source analysis or criticism, some of the examples used by Tijani may not sufficiently substantiate his model. 

First, what was the theoretical approach taken by Tijani? Noticing the flaws in the "Great Man" model of Barth, Brenner, Denham and Nachtigal, as well as the weaknesses in Brenner's analysis of the rise of al-Kanemi as shehu of Borno (Tijani was also quite critical of the way Brenner sought to incorporate a conflict theory model of classes), Tijani wanted to understand the nature of Sayfawa longevity and the reasons for dynastic change in the turbulent 19th century. This is a reasonable research question: Why was a single dynasty able to persist for several centuries across time and space? And why was this dynasty, the longest lasting in African history, unable to meet the challenges of the late 1700s and early 1800s? Lastly, what were the conditions of the time and the administrative or political challenges that made a figure like Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi a candidate for leading Borno?

In Tijani's eye, Systems Theory is applicable or relevant for addressing this question. To quote Tijani, "By using its conceptual aparatii, such as the interrelations of interacting, interpenetrating units and the role and significance of legitimation processes and ideology, we have a conceptual model and methodological aparati that can cope with the dynamics of the whole system and would, therefore, enable us understand, describe, and explain Borno political development more adequately" (43). In other words, this theoretical model allows for complex nuances in terms of the interaction of ideology, administrative structure, and the military functions of the state in a heterogeneous, ecologically diverse landscape such as Kanem-Borno. In this case, religio-ideological factors such as the universalist faith of Islam were tied to state legitimation by the Sayfawa (and the subsequent al-Kanemi dynasty). Additionally, the importance of genealogy, clan or lineage affiliations, and the dynastic principle of governance tied to the legend of descent from Sayf b. Dhi Yazan were essential tools in the administrative structures of the Sayfawa. This was so even in the Kanem phase of the Sayfawa state, although Tijani's lack of success in engaging in fieldwork in Mao made his interpretations of the early centuries speculative. 

Over time, the Sayfawa adapted their administrative structure to better the standing of the central government and ensure the cultural (ideological) hegemony of the ruling house. Tijani's study traces these changes over time to understand why the Sayfawa state eventually came to an end and a new political order began with al-Kanemi. Indeed, Tijani wrote, "In this case our hypothesis is that change in such a system would be more in the sphere of administration while the political changes would be limited to restatement of pre-existing ideal goals. Change becomes necessary and tolerable when authoritative action neither matches the ideal goals stated nor meets the felt needs of the people or both." Thus, Tijani believed that the type of change that did occur with the rise of al-Kanemi was mostly in the sphere of administration as al-Kanemi restored a more centralized state. Simultaneously, he did not personally take for himself the position of mai, nor did he deviate from the Islamic ideals that were the basis of political legitimacy for the Sayfawa. 

How did Tijani prove his theory in the case of Borno? And were his conclusions on the nature of al-Kanemi's political ascent accurate or more compelling than Brenner's study of the al-Kanemi line? Before addressing that, he reviewed the source material. Some of his citations are of unpublished Arabic manuscripts from Borno. He also cited some of the materials from Nigerian archives in Kaduna and conducted fieldwork to record and engage in conversation with locals in Marte, the area of Gazargamo (Gazargumo in his spelling), Kukawa, Maiduguri, and other places. Tijani clearly saw Muhammad Yanbu's Al-Idara Fi Nizam al-Mamlaka Wa 'l-Imara as an exceptional source. A copy was procured for him by Abubakar al-Miskin, a Sayfawa descendant. Assuming Yanbu's text is an authentic work of the 18th or early 19th century, the text outlines the palace administration of Gazargamo in great detail. Unsurprisingly, Tijani also relied heavily on Palmer, the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu, and a famous poem by Shaykh al-Tahir b. Ibrahim. Besides these, occasional references to an unpublished Arabic text on the Fulani of Borno, some of al-Kanemi's writings, and a Mandara chronicle, or kirgam, written about that kingdom's war with Borno in c. 1781 abound. Undoubtedly, Tijani's greatest contribution here is his status as a local, fluent speaker of Kanuri with access to various local notables to discuss the past. By drawing upon oral traditions from across Borno, Tijani can begin to synthesize the two different types of source materials (oral sources and written texts) for Borno. Sadly, not being able to visit Kanem restricted what Tijani could accomplish there. Perhaps a lack of French reading comprehension placed another limitation on what Tijani could have done with Landeroin, Zeltner, and Lange.

In terms of applying or adapting Systems Theory to Kanem-Borno, Tijani is weakest on the Kanem centuries. He emphasized the "dynastic character" of Sayfawa administration in Kanem without being able to strongly support it. Based on the meager data from the external Arabic sources and certain speculations on the nature of lineage groups and the retention of power or control over people or territory based on lineage ties to the Sayfawa ruling group, the Sayfawa state in Kanem emphasized its dynastic character. This shaped the administration since relatives of the maiwa were apparently assigned powerful posts in the central government and provincial administration. Unsurprisingly, this later led to problems of fission as these groups descended from the Sayfawa administered distant territories or principalities within the larger Kanem empire, particularly after Dunama Dibalemi's reign. But much of this is difficult to illustrate with specific examples besides what was recounted in the Diwan. Outside observers who never went to Kanem, like al-Maqrizi, may be referenced for what became a decentralized administrative structure, yet Tijani did not deeply explore the rise of the Bulala as a competing lineage group. Nor was there any attempt to understand this in terms of social relations with medieval Kanem or the possible role of slaves and caste groups in this process. Ultimately, the Kanem phase of the Sayfawa appeared to have been little more than a prelude to the central area of Tijani's analysis: Borno. 

Once the Sayfawa had relocated permanently to Borno and experienced a consolidation under Ali Gaji (Ali b. Dunama), Tijani's analysis improves. With Ali Gaji, who Tijani unfortunately thought was the mai who went to war with the Kanta of Kebbi, one notes the development of a full dynastic structure of government including the koguna class. However, Ali Gaji replaced Sayfawa relatives with slave officials in some of the key military posts, ending the period of troubles in the 1200s, 1300s and 1400s when powerful officials related to the dynasty could trigger civil wars or coups. Using the example of Ali Gaji's campaign against Logone, dated to c. 1501/2 (although this was likely earlier, if one uses Lange's chronology), or the establishment of a permanent capital at Gazargamo, Tijani perceived Ali Gaji as establishing the conditions for a stronger state to emerge within Borno and the Central Sudan. Although the kogunawa later took on more administrative responsibility for the subsequent maiwa, Ali Gaji's council of state, enslaved officials, and building of a new capital tied to trade, Islamic education, and stability laid the foundation for the Sayfawa state's longevity in Borno. Even the sending of Yerima Musa against Logone was portrayed by Tijani as an instance in which the mai used dangerous campaigns as an opportunity to rid himself of political threats. Ali Gaji's victory against the Bulala at Lada was similarly important for showing the resurgence of the Sayfawa with a strong center. 

After Ali b. Dunama, Idris Alauma (Idris b. Ali) was seen as the next great statesman of the dynasty. According to Tijani, the increasing dichotomization between the center and periphery in Borno was not a problem until Idris Alauma's successors. Instead, during his reign, a greater degree of centralization took place with a modicum of political realism. Idris b. Ali took action against residual Sau populations, intervened in the succession and affairs of Mandara, Kanem, the Ngizim, and asserted Sayfawa rights to protect subject populations like the Fulani from Tuareg raids. By actively intervening within Borno and its frontier to defend subjects, promoting Islam among the Ngizim and others, resisting banditry and external enemies, and campaigning against the Bulala in Kanem, Idris b. Ali ensured the periphery was not cut off from Gazargamo. And due to the logistical and ecological difficulties of holding together a vast empire, Tijani saw Idris Alauma as a realist who acknowledged that some regions, like Kanem, would have to remain autonomous or semi-autonomous. His active military campaigns, suppression of insecurity, and ongoing commitment to Islamic standards of legitimacy and a dynastic right to rule as a Sayfawa promoted the administration's religious, political, and cultural hegemony. In fact, Idris Alauma's reign was the apogee of Borno for Tijani. In a segmented administrative structure ruling a heterogeneous population with ecological diversity, Idris Alauma promoted a robust central government whilst being politically realist. The state responded to the peripheries, provided protection, pacified the Sau, yet acknowledged the need to leave Mandara and Kanem as autonomous vassals.

After Idris Alauma, Tijani traced the development of greater dichotomies between center and periphery. Although the aforementioned autonomous provinces like Kanem under the Bulala sultans were understandably not integrated into the central administration of Gazargamo, subsequent maiwa accelerated the problem. As a result, multiple new frontier polities were promoted or created as vassals and buffers for Borno's frontiers, particularly the alifa in Mao (Kanem), the Galtima (galadima) of Nguru, the theocratic state of the Koyam shaykh, or Muniyo. Whilst this strategy created a defensive buffer for Borno to protect the territory from raiding activities of nomadic peoples like the Tuareg or Tubu, later Sayfawa administrations were less successful at maintaining close supervisory control of the vassal states. Over time, local chiefs or kings began to decide succession without consulting Gazargamo (which sometimes confirmed their decisions without interfering in the process). As the Sayfawa were less involved in active administration and less invested in conducting military campaigns themselves, they were also less likely to be able to offer adequate protection or support to some of these autonomous or semi-autonomous provinces. Indeed, Tijani accused these later Sayfawa rulers of changing to emphasize far more heavily the Islamic faith as their basis for legitimacy. Certainly, maiwa who engaged in long periods of ritual seclusion, Islamic studies, or lengthy travel abroad to perform the pilgrimage were less likely to be able to effectively or immediately address political concerns directly. Consequently, the administrative system relied on more intermediaries, thereby lengthening the chains in government as the distance between ruler and ruled increased. With this pattern acceleration over time, it very well could have led to poor governance or more corruption and exploitation of the ruled through chima gana or other officials.

As the 17th and 18th centuries progressed, Tijani divided Borno (and its empire) into areas of Sayfawa sovereignty and Sayfawa hegemony. In the former, the Sayfawa state, or central administration, was in direct control. In areas of hegemony, on the other hand, the influence of Borno was often expressed through the cultural and religious stature of the Sayfawa across much of the Central Sudan. This would be areas under the rule of the local dynasties in Marte, Dikwa, Muniyo, Damagaram, Kanem, Gumel, Mandara, Logone, Deya, Gulfe, Ngala, and the galadima. Due to their long history and promotion of Islam, Borno enjoyed a degree of regional hegemony without necessarily possessing administrative structures to integrate autonomous and semi-autonomous principalities. One sees this in Marte, the hometown of Tijani. There the first king, Kadiri Arsomi, was said to have been a brother of Ali Umarmi (Ali b. Umar?) and from the Sayfawa-Maghumi clan. Whilst the genealogy raises more questions, it is significant that the Martema claimed common origin with the Sayfawa dynasty as part of its own local legitimacy. In another case, Dikwa, descent from a maina of Gazargamo is claimed. In the Dikwama case, they also had to contend with non-Muslim Gamergu peoples who offered resistance to Borno. In both cases, these chiefly lineages claimed a common origin with the Sayfawa. But they became more autonomous over time in various matters. Even Logone, which sent "gifts" to Borno, saw these sandi as non-obligatory. They were intended for buying peace and cooperation. Likewise, the other principalities who sent gifts to Gazargamo expected to be reciprocated with even greater gifts. 

Once nomadic and semi-nomadic groups and immigrants to Borno in the Late Sayfawa Period are considered, the inability of the central government to adapt to new conditions became clear. As the Shuwa began to migrate to Borno due to pressures from Wadai and Bagirmi, their local leaders were sometimes able to become the fugu of their respective communities. These Shuwa representatives of the central government often represented their local Shuwa group much more than Gazargamo. It did not help that, per Tijani, maiwa after Idris Alauma did not sustain the goodwill of the Shuwa Arabs. Hence, the Shuwa groups who were in Borno in the 1700s were not particularly close to the government. As cattle herders eager to avoid raids and excessive taxation, they needed to court advantageous relationships with governments and local farmers. In the case of Borno, however, the mid-1700s actually witnessed a local war over Kabela. Initially held by the Fulata, the Shuwa seized it for three years, eventually losing it to the Fulata. Unfortunately, Tijani did not provide a clear indication of how the Sayfawa government responded to this conflict between two nomadic groups. Clearly, it shows tensions over resources. The Fulani Wodabe and Bororo'en groups were often under the authority of the galadima based in Nguru while others were under the authority of Deya, one of the vassal polities. They too had a strained relationship with Gazargamo that the burgeoning parasitism of the central bureaucracy could not address. Subject to expropriation or conflicts with other groups in Borno, the Shuwa, Fulani, and others sought to better their situation. Therefore, it is not surprising that these two groups came to play a large role in the events of the 19th century, albeit on opposing sides. One could add the Kanembu migrants to Borno in this category as well.

In order to further buttress his view of the bloated administration of the later Sayfawa maiwa, Tijani heavily relied on Muhammad Yanbu. Again, assuming this text is a reliable and authentic view of Sayfawa bureaucracy in the 1700s or early 1800s, it is quite revealing. For example, Tijani believed one reading of Yanbu supports the notion of the Sayfawa relinquishing more power to the wazirs. Much of the first part of Yanbu's text also shows the many types of palace servants, such as the Servants of the Apartment, or the Masters of the Sandals. Besides these, Yanbu's text listed leatherworkers, Masters of the Saddles, Masters of the Horse Armor, Masters of the Stirrups, Masters of the Cushion, and more. The central government even included a Secret Chancery that provided intelligence services and royal guards. Yet the famous chima system is suspiciously absent in Yanbu's text. If anything, Yanbu shows that, to some extent, the Sayfawa had become accustomed to a life of luxury and tranquility in their capital. They may have returned to past customs in government appointments which were so costly to their forebears. According to Yanbu, "Each of them deploys the army, which follows him, and no one is appointed to this rank other than sons or other relatives of the king" (300). This claim, which Tijani believed served as evidence of the Sayfawa appointing their close relatives as kaigama, was a step backwards. Yanbu is even cited for further Sayfawa disengagement with military matters since there was a "king's substitute" who took the place of the mai in battle. 

Of course, Yanbu's text may not be reliable on all these matters as the kaigama mentioned in Borno traditions during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama did not appear to be a Sayfawa descendant. Nor could one say Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama did not risk his life in military ventures. After all, Landeroin's report on Koyam traditions recorded him receiving an arrow wound in the battle with Mandara (not to mention the Mandara kirgam mentioning the mai fleeing for his life on horseback as Wandala soldiers pursued him). For similar reasons, readers may take issue with Tijani's views on the reign of Ali b. Umar (c. 1639-1677). To Tijani, Ali b. Umar's numerous trips to the East led to Kashim Biri's revolt and the development of overly powerful officials. This included Tuareg attacks that reached Gazargamo. But not mentioned here was the context in which a faction in Borno invited Agadez to send troops. And even as Ali b. Umar took five pilgrimages, his reign is often portrayed in the academic literature as Borno at its zenith.

Mandara's war with Borno in the 18th century is another problem for analysis. Tijani heavily relied on the biased Mandara kirgam written several years after the event. Since a copy of the chronicle was found for him by a notable in Borno, Tijani assumed that the text was taken seriously as an accurate chronicle by Borno ulama. That leap in reasoning may be valid, but without taking into account local Borno texts mentioning Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama's war with Mandara, Tijani made the mistake of relying too much on a single source. The incredibly biased kirgam written decades after the event it described must be treated with greater caution. Consulting local Arabic texts from Borno that were written during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama would have provided the necessary balance to evaluate what triggered the war. 

Finally, readers may question Tijani's stark views. Even Heinrich Barth saw in Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama a mai who was active on multiple fronts. It is too hasty to dismiss the later Sayfawa mais of the 1600s and 1700s as being dedicated to Islamic piety or scholarship and removing themselves from practical considerations of governance. Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama is an illustrative case. Not only was he active against Mandara, but he also sought to defend the frontier from Tuareg raiders and support those buffer states. Other 18th century mai may have been active on the frontier with Kano during the 1730s or with groups like the Kurata in Kanem to the east. Without providing empirical examples from the various rulers of the 1600s and 1700s, Tijani ran the risk of sounding like Yves Urvoy, Barth, and past scholars who dismissed these maiwa. 

The remainder of Tijani's study focuses on the effects of the Jihad, the ascent of al-Kanemi, and the return to what he saw as a more centralized administrative structure. The unresolved tensions and political climate for the Fulata led to hostilities in 1799. Bi Abdur, Ardo Lerlima and Ibrahim Zaki led Fulata communities against the galadima, Dunoma of Nguru. Tensions continued, culminating in the 1808 attack on Gazargamo led by Goni Mukhtar. Meanwhile, al-Kanemi, the son of a Kanembu and a Fezzani Arab, had settled in Ngala. Gaining renown as a scholar and due to his own Kanembu background, al-Kanemi was able to cultivate a support base from the Kanembu and Shuwa. Like him, some were migrants to Borno (although Tijani stressed that most in Borno would not have perceived al-Kanemi as a foreigner). Since respected mallams often became a source of leadership and community guidance in times of trouble, it was no surprise that al-Kanemi generated genuine legitimacy among various groups in Borno. His standing led to the defeated Sayfawa requesting his aid in driving the Fulata out of Gazargamo. Despite his success against the Fulata groups, Gazargamo was abandoned and the Sayfawa themselves were internally divided. 

In this period of clear failure on the part of the Sayfawa to respond to the military threat of the jihadists, al-Kanemi began to expand his power base. With a court moved to Ngorno, al-Kanemi received courtiers from the Sayfawa (they later followed him to Kukawa). A part of al-Kanemi's  reforms was to weaken or remove autonomous local rulers. This entailed actions against the galadima, which decreased the area under his administration. Then Marte, Mintar, Ngala and others were subjects of al-Kanemi's attention. Part of al-Kanemi's vision here was a desire to more fully integrate the southern parts of Borno into the state. These areas were exposed to threats from Bagirmi, Mandara and Wadai yet contained rich, fertile soils. Through his slave military official, Barka Gana, who was assigned the Kotoko states, Borno's central administration was actively attempting to integrate this region. The shaykh depended on enslaved military officials, his kachellawa, to make this happen. He waged similar campaigns against groups reluctant to recognize his authority, like the "Black Shuwa" in Damaturu or the Manga who revolted in the 1820s. Whilst engaged in these military campaigns to subdue autonomous or rebellious local leadership, al-Kanemi relied on a small Council of State which included prominent individuals tied to the Shuwa and Kanembu.

Undoubtedly, one must ask the following: why did al-Kanemi never remove the Sayfawa or officially usurp the throne? Tijani suggested an answer when he wrote, "The reality perhaps was that the religio-ideological power and authority of the Sayfawa, if not necessarily their political and military power, had developed to cover extensive areas in the Central Sudan" (412). In response to this longstanding ideological power, al-Kanemi, whose source of authority was also partly based in religion, may have chosen to merely act in defense of Sayfawa. Unlike them, he was able to combine military leadership with this religio-ideological authority. After rejecting the rationale for the jihad in his correspondence with Sokoto leaders and defending the Islamic legitimacy of Borno's government (though still imperfect), it is not surprising al-Kanemi was never interested in eradicating or replacing them with a new dynasty. 

Nonetheless, more skeptical or pessimistic readers may take issue with this period of transition. While Louis Brenner may have overemphasized the personal ambition and court politics as a factor, it is probable that al-Kanemi intervened in Sayfawa succession disputes to his own advantage. To what extent he played a role in the deposition of Muhammad Ngileruma should be explored. It is possible al-Kanemi merely sought to become the delegated authority of the Sayfawa in administration while the ancient dynasty retained its Islamic and historical symbolic power. In other words, al-Kanemi may have wanted to occupy a position similar to the shogunates of Japan who wielded effective power on behalf of the imperial family. Due to their political longevity and renown across much of the Central Sudan, it was better to keep them, even as figureheads, than to remove them outright. When viewed through this lens, al-Kanemi likely was driven by personal ambition. Yet it was ultimately based on restoring and defending Borno as a centralized state and in a position of prominence within the Central Sudan and Islamic worlds. Indeed, completely replacing the Sayfawa would have been tantamount to admitting the legitimacy of the jihadist critiques of Borno. 

Despite our issues with Tijani's work, it remains a significant work. Attempting to use a grand theory with enough nuance to elucidate the longevity of the Sayfawa, Tijani faced a number of problems. First, the lack of field research in Kanem weakened his analysis. Although there probably would have been insurmountable obstacles to researching medieval Kanem in the 1970s based on oral tradition, the lack of that perspective leaves the early chapter without the same level of evidentiary basis. The later chapters, on the Borno phase, are much richer. Closer in time to the present and with the benefit of oral traditions as well as more written sources, Tijani can trace the waxing and waning of the Sayfawa from the 1400s to 1808. The main problem is the falling back on generalizations or certain assumptions about the structure without close scrutiny of the maiwa of the 1600s and 1700s. The lack of nuance on certain reigns, like that of Ali b. Umar or Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama, hinders the author's point about the Sayfawa emphasizing their religious or Islamic claims to legitimacy and hegemony. Lastly, the reliance on what were translations of Arabic manuscripts and French sources created another problem for the author's use of this material. Without being able to read Arabic, he faced limitations in terms of close textual analysis, source criticism, and the question of authenticity. Unable to use French placed additional obstacles for accessing more source materials on Kanem, Kawar, the Manga, Bagirmi, Wadai, and Agadez. Fortunately, Tijani's local connections, Kanuri fluency, and travels across Borno did allow for some balance of written and oral sources. This did allow for more of the required nuance in elucidating the areas of Sayfawa sovereignty versus Sayfawa hegemony and the Mai Mbauji. 

Revisiting the Karabiwa Mallams

 

The Shettima Bello manuscript in John Lavers, "Biography, the ulama and an example of protest in eighteenth century Borno,' in Northwestern University Program of African Studies (1984) Papers of the Conference on Islam in Africa: the Changing Role of the ’Ulama : March 28-31, 1984, Evanston, IL.

It is a tragedy that the essays and papers of John Lavers were not compiled and published posthumously. Some of his work touched upon areas of Borno history that are difficult to research outside the often inaccessible local Borno and Nigerian academic literature (especially unpublished theses by local and Nigerian historians). One such topic is the story of a Sufi community that developed in Borno during the 18th century. Called the Karabiwa Mallams by Lavers, who acknowledged that the name was an exonym derived from the distinct animal skin clothing or garments worn by members of the sect, they are a case in point. Lavers wrote extensively about the group in two papers for different conferences in the 1980s. The first, "Biography, the ulama and an example of protest in eighteenth century Borno' was in 1984. A subsequent essay on Sufi communities in the 17th and 18th centuries was "Two Sufi Communities in Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century Borno" for the Workshop on Sufism in Africa in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries at SOAS in 1987. Outside these two conference papers, we have not encountered any academic literature specifically on this Sufi community or sect.

The Karabiwa Mallams were observed by colonial-era officials as a small sect or group who limited their communication with the outside world. Eager for more knowledge on this group, H.R. Palmer requested a report on them that was partly translated by Butcher, another colonial official. In addition to a manuscript from Shettima Bello, who saw the Karabiwa Mallams as an unorthodox group, the son of the shaykh of the group also supplied information and a girgam. Unfortunately, Butcher did not provide a complete translation of the girgam, omitting what he thought were extracts from the Quran. Lavers suggested this could have been relevant information recorded in Arabic for prayers or the belief system of the Sufi group. Nonetheless, this local informant, named Mallam Sharif, claimed to have been the great-great-grandson of the Arab founder of the sect and offered information that contradicted Shettima Bello. Yet Lavers raised the question of the girgam for the sect actually being a silsila, particularly as it shares names with the silsila documented by Rinn, including the name Abd al-Qadir al-Jailani. Thus, the girgam may point to broader ties with North African Sufi traditions and the Qadiriyya. 

So, what can we say about the Karabiwa Mallams? According to these aforementioned sources, they were originally from the town or village of Bagara but followed a man Shettima Bello accused them of turning into a prophet. The sect arose during the days of Gazargamo in the reign of Ali b. al-Hajji, likely Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama (r. 1747-1792). If Mallam Sharif, the informant to Butcher, was the great-great-grandson of the founder, and born in the late 1800s or beginning of the 20th century, then one can see the group's origins likely beginning in the 1700s. Where things become complicated is the identity of the founder and his affiliations with the broader Sufi currents in Borno and the Central Sudan. According to Shettima Bello, the initial founder of the sect was a Kanuri named Mallam Wasirima, "who claimed to be a Prophet." But Lavers has pointed out that the name Wasirima may be linked to the Kanuri term for North Africans, wasiri. If so, then the founder, identified as Ahmad al-Mabruk by Mallam Sharif and in one document cited in Brenner's field notes, was likely of North African and of Arab origin. Indeed, Mallam Sharif reported that his ancestor was a "pure Arab" with white skin and a Qurayshite origin. He allegedly came to Borno from Kanem with followers. If Mallam Sharif was dependable, then the Karabiwa Mallams were an ascetic Sufi group founded by an Arab of North African origin who came to Borno from Kanem in the 1700s, perhaps as part of the broader currents of Kanembu and Shuwa Arab migration to Borno in the same century.

What is known of the group after establishing itself in Borno during the 1700s? Per Lavers, the group first settled in Bagara, in the territory of the Mobber along the Komadugu. They later moved to Karabiri in the Gazir (capital) district of Borno, probably with state permission from the Sayfawa. According to tradition, it was only in Karabiri where the group began to wear distinct dress, after a great famine in late Birni times. Here the reference to a great famine may be an allusion to a period of prolonged famine and drought in Borno from c. 1738-1753. The Diwan also referred to a great famine during the reign of Dunama Gana (c. 1744-1747) during this period. Alternatively, another famine may have been the one in question, one described by Ali Eisami and occurring in c. 1792. But if the group only came to Borno during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama, which began in c. 1747, the famine in question may have been the one in c. 1792, near the end of the reign of this particular mai. Also, as indicated by Lavers, the group likely received state permission or support for building its settlement at Karabiri near Gazargamo. This means the group's orthodoxy had been accepted after an earlier attack against it from the mai. Perhaps like the attack on the first Kalumbardo by Umar b. Idris in the 17th century, Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama was worried about the ascetic group's growth and influence on the surrounding population, so he launched an attack which scattered them before they regrouped. 

What was the fate of the group, after its initial persecution by Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama and later acceptance or state recognition? The group left after the jihad which assaulted Birni Gazargamo in c. 1808, regrouping at Yale Garuwa in Konduga. Then, in c. 1816, the group was perceived as a political threat by al-Kanemi. Consequently, they moved to Gobo in the Sokoto Caliphate, residing there for about ten years. They then returned to Borno in 1826, settling at Yaleri Kurnawa until 1840. They subsequently moved to a new settlement named after their shaykh, Shehu Tari. From there, the group spread to Mandara, settling in Madaway. Some later returned to Karabiwa and other past villages, too. Their shaykh, however, remained at Madawaya and expected his followers to visit him at least once per year there. 

One recurring pattern in the history of the Karabiwa Mallams is the perception of the group as a political threat to established authority. In Sayfawa times, the group's asceticism, popular following, and possible accusations of unorthodox practices made them a target for state violence. Indeed, Shettima Bello described the group as becoming known and large, so Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama raided their community. This suggests that the group's leader, or shaykh, was charismatic, attracted followers and chose not to integrate within the state apparatus as a court-aligned member of the ulama, all issues of concern to the Sayfawa ruler. After all, the Sayfawa maiwa considered themselves as proponents of Islam, religious orthodoxy and supporters of Islamic scholarship and piety as part of their political legitimacy. That Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama actually attacked the community, thereby leading to their dispersion, proves that he perceived them as a political threat to the established order. 

But, to what extent was the group or sect unorthodox and distinct from the rest of Bornoan society? Lavers pointed out that the group's desire to cut itself from the mainstream of society was part of a challenge to the status quo of the era, what we like to refer to as the Late Sayfawa Period. In this period, when the systems in place were under pressure and a drought, famine, population displacements, and the eventual jihad of Uthman dan Fodio changed the political landscape of the Central Sudan, the Sayfawa struggled to successfully meet the challenges of their changing times. In terms of their actual practices and beliefs, the Karabiwa Mallams do not appear quite so distinctive or unique. The group did accept outsiders who agreed to undergo ceremonial purification and promised not to divulge the secrets of the group. On the other hand, they were largely endogamous and restricted their communication with outsiders. The group also practiced an extreme form of khalwa in which members prayed in tunnels or holes dug in the ground for 40 days, subsisting on flour and water. Their supposedly singular way of dressing, with cotton for the upper garment and animal skins for the lower garments, was also reminiscent of the way al-Barnawi's followers dressed at the second Kalumbardo in the 17th century. Presumably, the group's penchant for secrecy and decision to broadly isolate themselves from the rest of society made them seem more extreme. By not allowing members to marry outsiders, for instance, they were clearly attempting to build a separate community. Moreover, members were prohibited from consumption of meat prepared in the standard Islamic way, suggestive of yet another distinctive practice through different dietary practices or interpretations of Islamic law.

Of course, the acceptance of the group through likely state permission to settle at Karabiri in Sayfawa times, the group's presence in the Sokoto Caliphate for about a decade, and their eventual return to Borno suggest they were in alignment with the central tenets of Islam. Thus, their unique practices of khalwa, secrecy, endogamy, and choice to limit communication with the rest of society were ultimately seen as acceptable by the rulers of Borno. And in some respects, their apparently unique practices were actually similar to that of other ascetic Sufi groups in Borno. For instance, the second Kalumbardo settlement of al-Barnawi practiced a severe form of khalwa. Comparisons with the followers of Sidi Mahmud al-Baghdadi in Aïr may also be illustrative of broader patterns of Sufi networks within the Central Sudan. That the group was initially targeted by state violence speaks to the broader political climate of Borno during the lengthy reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama and the turbulent 18th century. Integrating this episode within that broader context of political, ideological, and social change or conflict generates many questions about the era of decline in the Sayfawa dynasty and Sufism in Borno.

The King of Bagirmi

 

Although he is occasionally hard to understand due to the audio quality, a king of Bagirmi appeared in a Chadian media interview in 2020 to discuss the history of his kingdom. He answers a number of questions about the history of the kingdom, the development of Massenya, the dignitaries of the court, religious dignitaries, and other topics. As an incumbent king discussing these questions, this is as close to an "official" version of events one is likely to encounter.