Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Exploring Caizcimu, or Higüey Chiefdoms

 

Eastern part of Hispaniola (including Caizcimu and Higuey) from the 1517 Morales Map.

Higüey, or Caizcimu, the eastern part of Hispaniola, represents another region which hosted a major cacicazgo in the time of Columbus. But when one examines surviving documentary evidence, the theory of a paramount chiefdom in eastern Hispaniola becomes much weaker or ambiguous. Instead, as Alice Sampson has hinted, the peoples of Caizcimu, the face of the island of Haiti or Quisqueya, may have been part of a shifting network of chiefdoms which were not necessarily dominated by a single one for long.[1] This model is perhaps more appropriate for understanding how the societies in eastern Hispaniola were organized before colonialism. Alternatively, the area may have once been under the rule of a paramount cacique. But, at some point early in their conflicts with the Spanish, this paramount chief, Cayacoa, died. Succeeded by a wife, who later converted to Christianity, the area may have reverted to a shifting network of alliances without one single cacique paramount. In order to explore these theories, what follows will be our attempt to trace the history of Higüey (or Caizcimu) over time using documentary sources.

Spanish Colonial-Era Sources

            Naturally, one must begin with the sources from the early colonial encounter, conquest, and the rest of the sixteenth century. Beginning with Columbus, early Spanish sources provide important glimpses of various aspects of indigenous societies on the island. While few answer the types of questions we have today about the origins and political organization of the indigenous peoples of the island, the standard chronicles usually imply a powerful, paramount chiefdom existed in the eastern part of the island. Some sources name it as Higüey, yet others, like Oviedo, center it on Cayacoa, also called Agueibana.[2] The discrepancy on which cacique in the east occupied a dominant position is not clear.

Furthermore, another limitation is that our most detailed sources on the eastern tip of the island are often centered on the two wars to “pacify” the region in the time of Ovando. This means that they rarely provide historical context or background of the region’s political landscape before the wars. Except for emphasizing the leadership of Cotubanamá in these military campaigns, they cannot easily be used to claim Cotubanamá was a paramount cacique of this region. In addition, the later sources associated with the encomienda system in the 1514 Repartimiento name many caciques of the east. Depending on which chronicler one prefers, Higuanamá, Higüey, or Cayacoa each appear on the list with large numbers of indigenous followers assigned to different encomenderos in Santo Domingo, Higüey, or other towns. But from this alone, one cannot easily presume which cacique was once the most powerful before 1492.

Nonetheless, the 16th century sources do provide some clues. One important chronicler, who never went to the Americas but was well-positioned to read the works and speak with travelers who did cross the Atlantic, was Peter Martyr d’Anghiera. Through him, readers discover that the districts of Caizcimu, the eastern “face” of Hispaniola, included Higüey, Guanama, Reyre, Xagua, Aramana, Arabo, Hazoa (Azua), Macorix, Caicoa, Guiagua, Baguanimabo, and the mountains of Haiti (Haitises). Springs of an exceptional character were in Iguanamá, Caiacoa and Quatiaqua. Further, Caizcimu extended from the eastern point of the island to the Ozama river.[3] This information, derived in part from Andrés de Morales, whose excellent map of the island drew from indigenous toponyms and references, establishes the boundaries of Caizcimu. Within this much larger space, Higüey was just one district or section of the island’s “face.”

Additional cronistas in the 1500s wrote about Higüey. For Oviedo, perhaps one of the more racist and Hispanocentric writers of this period, Cayacoa was the paramount cacique. Ruling from the Santo Domingo area to Hayna River, and to the Yuma, Cayacoa died soon after the Christians warred with him. Succeeded by his wife, Inés de Cayacoa who converted to Christianity, Oviedo unfortunately did not elucidate further.[4] Nevertheless, Oviedo, who came to the island several years after the “pacification” of the east, believed Cayacoa was once the most powerful cacique in the region. With Higüey, his area of influence extended to the mouth of the Yuma, this included Cotubanamá and Higüey under his authority.

On the other hand, the testimony of Las Casas, who arrived in the Indies earlier than Oviedo, contradicts Oviedo’s understanding of the east. In his Historia de las Indias, Las Casas specified that Cotubanamá’s settlement was near La Saona island (although the indigenous pueblos were often located in the montes). He also believed that Higuanamá was the king or cacique of Higüey, although he expressed uncertainty regarding his memory.[5] Moreover, Las Casas provided an overview of the 2 campaigns against Higüey, led by Juan de Esquivel. Despite the first one ending with a guatiao between Esquivel (who later led the conquest of Jamaica) and Cotubanamá, the second one ended with the demise of the latter. Interestingly, the Spanish forces were accompanied by indigenous auxiliaries from Ycayagua in the second campaign. This is yet another instance in which political divisions and conflict between competing chiefdoms in the eastern part of the island were implied. To what extent Ycayagua was opposed to Cotubanamá or Higüey in precolonial times is unsure, but they clearly believed it was in their interests to align with the Spanish against Cotubanamá.[6] Even more intriguing is the long-distance ties to indigenous peoples in Puerto Rico, since they enjoyed constant contact through canoes across the Mona Channel.[7] As the aforementioned name of Agueybaná for Cayacoa makes clear, there may have been alliances with indigenous peoples in Puerto Rico that shaped how different groups within Caizcimu related to each other.

After the cronistas, some Spanish sources in the form of letters or records generated by or affiliated with the encomienda system provide some clues. For instance, one letter by Pedro de Cordoba, perhaps written in 1516, alluded to Higüey. Its importance as a source of casabe for Santo Domingo was highlighted. This correspondence also blamed Salamanca’s dog for the attack on a cacique which triggered one of the wars with Higüey. Likewise, the letters also allude to 1500 indios allegedly killed whilst 17 caciques hung in Higüey.[8] If true, then many caciques of the eastern part of Hispaniola were eliminated or removed in the early 1500s. This makes it even more arduous to attempt any reconstruction of Caizcimu’s political landscape based on the 1514 Repartimiento of Albuquerque. It nonetheless hints at an alliance of at least 17 caciques who joined forces with Cotubanamá against the Spanish in the second war of Higüey. Meanwhile, the 1517 Hieronymite Interrogatory clearly establishes a link between caciques in Higüey and those of Puerto Rico who had revolted against the Spanish in the 1510s. There a cacique named Andrés celebrated the victory of indigenous people in Borinquen whilst plotting to spread a revolt against the Spanish in Hispaniola.[9] This suggests, once again, the relevance of Puerto Rico to Higüey’s indigenous leadership in the past. With exchange, migration, and alliances being relevant factors in the area before 1492.

Map of eastern Hispaniola from 1566, showing Aguiebana near Santo Domingo (Gallica).

As for the 1514 Repartimiento, multiple caciques with names linked to paramount status appear. Some even led hundreds of followers, often split to serve different encomenderos in Santo Domingo, Salvaleón de Higüey and other towns established by the Spanish. In Salvaleón de Higüey itself, Arranz Márquez’s tabulation of the figures points to about 922 indios assigned to encomenderos in the area. The following caciques were listed: Carolina de Agara, Juan Bravo, Catalina del Habacoa, Maria Higüey, and Isabel de Iguanamá. Apart from Catalina del Habacoa, who likely came from the western tip of the island, these others were apparently from Caizcimu (or near it?). Note the appearance of cacicas with Higüey and Iguanamá in their names. Based on the names alone, one may presume some continuity with preconquest chiefly lineages or territorial divisions. Yet the occupation of the office of cacique by two women in Higüey and Iguanamá may be a sign of the role of the Spanish wars in decimating the previous leadership.[10] Either way, these two women oversaw about 85% of the indigenous population enumerated in the repartimiento, a remarkable figure.[11] Besides these two women, other caciques whose names indicate some kind of relationship with major cantons of Caizcimu also led substantial numbers of indigenous people. Take (Gonzalo Fernandez) Cayacoa, whose 405 subjects were allotted to encomenderos in Santo Domingo. Besides Cayacoa, 241 people were affiliated with Diego Leal de Aramana. Moreover, another 284 were associated with Catabano del Higüey and 211 with Agueybaná de la Saona.

Naturally, using demographic data from 1514, many years after the “pacification” and the encomienda system had drastically impacted the indigenous population, can lead to misleading results. In addition, Santo Domingo as the colonial capital with encomenderos sometimes associated with the Spanish king, colonial officials, and the upper echelons of society, undoubtedly drew upon indigenous communities from various parts of the island. One wonders how the dislocation, indigenous flight from colonial centers, and deaths caused by the “pacification” campaigns of Ovando affected the population of Caizcimu, especially those close to Santo Domingo. Despite the problems with this demographic information, it suggests Maria Higüey (and her at least 2 nitaínos) led the largest number of indigenous people in the East, 443. After her, Cayacoa, closer to Santo Domingo, led 405. Catabano del Higüey, a cacica we highly suspect led the remnants of Cotubanamá’s area of  Higüey only led 284.[12] The admittedly problematic demographic evidence points to Maria Higüey, Isabel Iguanamá and Cayacoa as leading larger communities than Catabano. If this pattern was true in precolonial times, and each of these cacicazgos included similarly large numbers of people, one can speculate that Cayacoa, Iguanamá, Higüey, and Catabano were the dominant chiefdoms in the region, perhaps without one achieving permanent superiority.

Considering the limited evidence from documentary sources and the plethora of unanswered questions and contradictions, sources from the 1500s only provide glimpses of Higüey, or Caizcimu’s indigenous sociopolitical organization. That Higüey was perceived as one of the larger kingdoms or confederations of the island, and associated with both Cayacoa and Iguanamá, may be proof of the lack of a singular paramount cacique. Perhaps the region was briefly dominated by Cayacoa to the west, then Iguanamá or Higüey achieved temporary success as most powerful cacicazgos in Caizcimu?

Analyzing Later Histories of Higüey

Moving forward to the 1700s, scholarship on the topic has not progressed much. While archaeology would later become especially important in the 20th century, in the 1700s and 1800s, most writers usually repeated the earlier accounts by cronistas. Fortunately, ethnohistorians and archaeologists with all the advantages of new methods and perspectives in these respective fields, will raise deeper questions and challenge the narratives. This section shall briefly review writings on Higüey’s indigenous past from the 1700s and 1800s. Then, a swift reading of some of the more important studies of the island’s indigenous past will follow, focusing on modern historians writing in the late 1900s and early 2000s.

First, the 1700s. Here one often comes to Charlevoix, the Jesuit priest whose history of Saint Domingue was quite good for its time. To Charlevoix, Higüey’s population were distinct for using arrows. Like Oviedo, he named the cacique as Cayacoa, who allegedly died soon after the arrival of the Spanish. For Charlevoix, Cotubanamá then succeeded the widow of Cayacoa, Agnez Cayacoa, after her death. The familiar narrative of the 2 wars between Higüey and the Spanish then followed, with Juan de Esquivel and Cotubanamá’s guatiao relationship.[13]

Besides Charlevoix, Luis Joseph Peguero, whose history of the Spanish conquest of Hispaniola was published in the 1760s, stands out. Peguero sometimes deviated from the chronicles of prior centuries, occasionally making mistakes in his analysis. However, like Charlevoix, Peguero also viewed Cayacoa as one of the principal “kings” of the island (Guarionex, Caonabo, Behechio, Cayacoa, and Guacanagari). For him, Cayacoa “dominava toda la tierra oriental.” This encompassed the cabo de Samana to San Rafael, and from Rio Hayna to Rio Yuma. Further deviating from the standard narrative, Peguero wrote that Cayacoa’s court “se llamo Acayagua.”[14] Although Las Casas wrote of the people of Ycayagua collaborating with the Spanish in the campaign against Higüey, there is no hint of Cayacoa’s capital at Acayagua or Ycayagua. To contribute further to the confusion on the part of Peguero, he later wrote that Cotubanamá was killed alongside Cayacoa in the second war of Higüey. Nevertheless, Peguero did emphasize the significance of the montes for the indigenous people of the area: Tenían los indios de Higüey las más poblaciones dentro de las Montañas.”[15]

Next, the 19th century witnessed the appearance of Haitian writer Émile Nau’s magisterial history of the caciques of the island. Even before Nau, Beaubrun Ardouin, in his Geographie, repeated the common claim of Cayacoa as the ruler of Higüey.[16] Nau, on the other hand, wrote extensively on the indigenous peoples and their conquest by the Spanish. Like Peguero, Nau preferred a sequence in which Cayacoa, then his widow, and finally, Cotubanamá, were the rulers of Higüey. He expanded further by speculating on “Carib” ancestry in Higüey and the allegedly colossal stature of Cotubanamá. Nau also wrote about the use of smoke signals by the Indians of Higüey during their war with the Spanish. In terms of the provinces of Higüey, he broke it down in the following list: Azoa, Maniel, Cayacoa, Bonao, Cayemi, Macao, and the capital was at the town of Higüey.[17] Nau’s focus understandably centers on Higüey’s two wars with the Spanish, but his speculations about “Carib” admixture in this part of Hispaniola may be related to the use of the bow and arrow in this region. It may be a sign of Ciguayo influence or Macorix presence.[18]  But in the main, Nau follows the standard narrative of the early chronicles with an emphasis on Cayacoa as the original “king” of Higüey.

An area of Alonso de Santa Cruz's map of Hispaniola seems to read Cotubane or Cotubano in the area of Higuey. 

In the following century, one can begin to trace the advances in the field of indigenous Caribbean archaeology, history, and linguistics. Unsurprisingly, one of the early major figures in this was Sven Loven, whose Origins of the Tainan Culture represented a major contribution. Nonetheless, he too repeated the Cayacoa narrative, in which Cayacoa and then his wife, Inés, were the rulers of Higüey.[19] Dominican historian Casimiro N. de Moya followed this, except Higuanamá succeeded Cayacoa before Cotubanamá. Moya also claimed that the people of Higüey sold captives to the Caribs and Juan de Esquivel allegedly ordered the hanging of Higuanamá.[20] Later, the Haitian academic, Michel Aubourg, in Haïti préhistorique, emphasized the bellicose nature of the Higüey Indians was due to their fighting with the Caribs. They were ruled by Cayacoa, succeeded by Cotubanamá.[21]

Subsequent authors of the last century, particularly in its second half, contributed greatly to a more nuanced reading of the various cacicazgos of Hispaniola. Anderson-Córdova’s Surviving Spanish Conquest noted the uniqueness of Higüey in the 1514 Repartimiento. Indeed, Salvaleón de Higüey was the only town that had a high average number of Indians per community (172.60 in her reading of the numbers). Although about 28% of Higüey’s remaining indigenous population was expected to provide labor for encomenderos in Santo Domingo, Anderson-Córdova was correct to note the special demographics of this part of the island.[22] Stone’s Captives of Conquest: Slavery in the Early Modern Spanish Caribbean was similarly important for stressing the enslavement of many Higüeyanos in the wars of “pacification.” She also viewed Cotubanamá as a lesser cacique of the region who, despite his lower status, was the first to rise against Ovando’s labor policies. In all, the Spanish may have brought a minimum of 4000 slaves from Higüey in those two wars, suggestive of the scale of enslavement and the dislocation experienced by communities in the early 1500s. Notarial records even indicate that dozens of Taíno slaves were in Sevilla in 1503, many likely the product of the war in Higüey.[23]

Besides these aforementioned authors, several other academics or writers have addressed the issue of Higüey’s precolonial past. Gilbert Valmé, for instance, drew from archaeological and historical literature to approach the topic. According to Valmé, Higüey, the site of El Atajdizo, of 0.47 hectares and built 1000-1300 CE, may have been at least one of the centers of the region. Caizcimu supposedly contained about 11 of what Valmé considers to be simple caciquats. Yet once again, Cayacoa (considered to have been located around Los Llanos) was presumed to have been the greatest caciquat of Caizcimu.[24] In fact, archaeological evidence does support the importance of El Atajadizo and La Aleta as ceremonial centers of the region in the past.[25] Indeed, Samuel M. Wilson has referred to El Atajadizo as a large ceremonial center, meeting the expectations of a possible center of a major cacicazgo.[26]

Last but certainly not least, more recent scholarship has produced some of the most useful works on tentatively determining the confines of Higüey. Bernardo Vega, for example, drew from various maps, the chronicles, and other sources. According to Vega, Higüey, or Higuei, was centered on the zone of the Yuma. Guaygua was located at an affluent of the Soco river. Guanama may have been an area east of La Romana. Cayacoa was in today’s Los Llanos. Aramana, by his reckoning, was to the east of Hato Mayor. Arabo was likely between La Romana and Cumayasa. Vega even proposed an etymology for the name Higuei, linking it to jaguey. This may be true since the region was full of jagueyes or springs.[27] Indeed, Peter Martyr d’Anghiera reported the presence of exceptional springs in Iguanamá, Caiacoa (Cayacoa), and Quatiaqua, perhaps support for Vega’s theory. Vega’s theory also shifts our attention to Caizcimu as a larger region encompassing Higüey and other centers, presumably based on Andrés de Morales.

Besides Vega, Jose Oliver has also investigated Higüey’s history. Whilst also reporting the general narrative of Spanish-indigenous conflicts that triggered two wars, Oliver also raises more interesting questions of the area’s precolonial antiquity. Thus, the shared material culture in cemis, stone collars, and other artifacts suggest potent ties between caciques of Puerto Rico and eastern Hispaniola, stretching back to 600 CE. Oliver contextualizes this within a larger period of 450-800 years of sustained relationships connecting Higüey to Puerto Rico.[28] Consequently, Higüey’s cultural similarities with Puerto Rico’s indigenous groups point to some inter-island or broader Caribbean exchange and relations. Moreover, one could suggest these ties may have been a factor in the appearance of common names like Agueybaná on both islands. If Cayacoa, or Agueybaná and Agueybaná in Saona were bound by kinship with what may have been the leading chiefdom in Puerto Rico, the story of Caizcimu’s competing polities or perhaps peer polities may have been related to the international dimensions of its relations.

Conclusion

Upon consideration of many of the available sources on Higüey from the 1500s to the present, its status as a paramount chiefdom remains in doubt. From sources in the 1500s, one hears of either Higuanamá or Cayacoa as the dominant cacique. While this contradiction may have been related to the different wars between the Spanish and indigenous peoples in eastern Hispaniola leading to the capture or execution of some caciques, Higüey is remarkable for the persistence of indigenous cacique names or toponyms tied to the precolonial past. Led by women, Maria Higüey and Isabel de Iguanamá, Higüey was unique for one of the only regions of the island where two women still led substantial communities comprising most of the indigenous people assigned to encomenderos in a town. Since one cannot use demographic data from 1514 to fully reconstruct what the situation was like in 1492, the data tentatively supports the existence of at least a handful of substantial chiefdoms in the “face” of Hispaniola. Later data often inherited the same confusion or contradictions in the early colonial sources, but often emphasizing Cayacoa, Cotubanamá, or Iguanamá as the paramount leaders of Higüey. This conflicting data best fits the model proposed by Alice Samson. Essentially, Higüey was not a singular or unified chiefdom but more of a network of intricately connected chiefdoms. Occasionally, one may have achieved dominance, but the available sources do not allow for a clear identification. Unlike, say, Xaragua, where sources concur with Behechio and, after him, Anacaona, as paramount chiefs, Higüey may have lacked a singular leader or matunheri chief.



[1] Alice Sampson, Renewing the House: Trajectories of social life in the yucayeque (community) of El Cabo, Higüey, Dominican Republic, AD 800 to 1504, 95.

[2] The appearance of the name Agueybaná in Cayacoa (near the site of Santo Domingo), Saona, and Puerto Rico is hardly a coincidence. Given the longstanding ties between eastern Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, and the fact that at least one cacique in Higüey claimed to be related to caciques in the neighboring island, one can assume the name was part of the system of guatiao fictive and biological kinship relations.

[3] Peter Martyr d’Anghiera, Francis Augustus MacNutt (trans.), De orbe novo, the eight Decades of Peter Martyr d'Anghera, 366-367, 379.

[4] Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés, Historia general y natural de las Indias, Primera Parte (1851), 65.

[5] In his Apologética historia sumaria, 244. Las Casas wrote of Higuanamá as an old woman who ruled Higüey in his time (presumably referring to when Las Casas participated in the second Higüey War of 1504-1505?). Cayacoa or Agueibana was to the west of Higüey, but he clearly viewed Higüey, under Higuanamá, as the paramount cacique of this region. The reference to an old woman named Higuanamá raises questions. Was she the widow of Cayacoa? And what does one make of Macao, supposedly a large pueblo of the Indians in the region (Apologetica historia sumaria, 116)? One is inclined to view large settlements or villages as more likely capitals of paramount chiefs.

[6] Bartolomé de las Casas, Historia de las Indias Vol. 3, 41-42, 46-47, 85.

[7] Ibid., 235. For a speculative theory which traces the origin of the three-pointer cemi in Puerto Rico to eastern Hispaniola, see Marcio Veloz Maggiolo, Arqueología prehistórica de Santo Domingo, 251. There the author offers a fascinating theory for cultural influences from Hispaniola to Puerto Rico, which undoubtedly made Higüey an important part of this relationship.

[8] Medina, P. M. A. “CARTAS de Pedro de Córdoba y de La Comunidad Dominica, Algunas Refrendadas Por Los Franciscanos.” Guaraguao 21, no. 54 (2017): 182-183, 206.

[9] “Interrogatorio jeronimiano, 1517” in Emilio Rodriguez Demorizi, Los domínicos y las encomiendas de indios de la Isla Española, 346-347.

[10] Women leaders, or cacicas, were not necessarily a result of Spanish conquest and wars. However, the predominance of women cacicas, Catabano del Higüey, Higüey, Iguanamá and Aramana, may be partly a consequence of the brutal Spanish wars killing off or enslaving males.

[11] See Luiz Arranz Márquez, Repartimientos y encomiendas en la Isla Española: el repartimiento de Albuquerque de 1514, 560-564 for numbers of indigenous people associated with caciques assigned to encomenderos in Higüey and Santo Domingo.

[12] The map of Alonso de Santa Cruz in Islario general de todas las islas del mundo depicts a region called Cotubano or Cotubane across the sea from Saona. We highly suspect this part of Higüey was ruled by Cotubanamá given his proximity to Saona.

[13] Charlevoix, Histoire de l'Isle espagnole ou de S. Domingue. Tome 1 (1730), 63, 222.

[14] Luis Joseph Peguero, Historia de la Conquista, de la Isla Española de Santo Domingo trasumptada el año de 1762: traducida de la Historia general de las Indias escrita por Antonio de Herrera coronista mayor de Su Magestad, y de las Indias, y de Castilla, y de otros autores que han escrito sobre el particular, Volume 1, 79, 110.

[15] Ibid., 147, 149.

[16] Beaubrun Ardouin, Géographie de l'ile d'Haïti: précédée du précis et de la date des événemens les plus remarquables de son histoire, 3. Haitian historian Thomas Madiou had little to say on this, although he did note that Higüey and Seybe contained a population of mixed Spanish-Indian ancestry. See Histoire d’Haiti, 1492-1807, 452.

[17] Émile Nau, Histoire des caciques d'Haïti (1894), 51, 62, 235, 242, 248, 318.

[18] The use of the bow and arrow by indigenous people in Samana was noted by Columbus in the 1490s.

[19] Sven Loven, Origins of the Tainan Culture, West Indies, 504, 526.

[20] Casimiro N. de Moya, Bosquejo histórico del descubrimiento y conquista de la isla de Santo Domingo y narración de los principales sucesos ocurridos en la parte española de ella desde la sumisión de su último cacique hasta nuestros días. Epoca de la conquista y gobierno de los españoles hasta la sumisión de los últimos indios. Libro primero, 30, 114. This notion of the Higüey Indians selling captives to the Caribs is interesting but appears nowhere else (to our knowledge) in the sources.

[21] Michel Aubourg, Haïti préhistorique: mémoire sur les cultures précolombiennes, Ciboney et Taino, 48.

[22] Karen F. Anderson-Córdova, Surviving Spanish Conquest: Indian Fight, Flight, and Cultural Transformation in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, 100-101.

[23] Erin Woodruff Stone, Captives of Conquest: Slavery in the Early Modern Spanish Caribbean, 44-45.

[24] Gilbert Valmé, Atabey, Yucayequey, Caney: 6000 ans d'amenagement territorial prehispanique sur l'ile d'Ayiti / Haiti/ Republique Dominicaine, 180, 200, 214-215.

[25] Kathleen Deagan, En Bas Saline: A Taíno Town before and after Columbus, 40.

[26] Samuel M. Wilson, Hispaniola: Caribbean Chiefdoms in the Age of Columbus, 21. In terms of Higüey’s leadership, Wilson also repeats the narrative of Higuanamá as the major cacique, based on Las Casas.

[27] Bernardo Vega, Los cacicazgos de la Hispaniola, 23-24, 77.

[28] Jose Oliver, Caciques and Cemi Idols: The Web Spun by Taino Rulers Between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, 203-204.

Monday, April 13, 2026

Jinmon


While reminiscing and revisiting various episodes from the early seasons of Detective Conan, we were reminded of one of the show's best songs, "Jinmon." Featuring a heavy bass and some intense saxophone, it encapsulates a better era in the show's run. These were the days to be a fan of Detective Conan. The Black Organization was still interesting and had occasional run-ins with Conan and the FBI...the little brats were not yet entirely insufferable. 

Sunday, April 12, 2026

Thoughts on Yusuf of Katsina

Part of Landeroin's list of Katsina rulers from Documents scientifiques de la Mission Tilho

Whilst revisiting various sources on relations between Kano and Borno over the last several weeks, our interest in Katsina has been rekindled. However, the inaccessibility of many of the detailed studies of its history has largely limited our readings on its past to Landeroin, Palmer and Yusufu Bala Usman. Dankoussou's Katsina: traditions historiques des Katsinaawaa après la Jihad is also a great resource, drawing upon rich oral traditions. Sadly, his chronology is hard to reconcile with other sources and contains additional problems. This is unfortunate, since Katsina was one of the most important Hausa kingdoms in the centuries before the jihad. 

Part of the problem with even making sense of its history and its connection with Borno is the difficulty of establishing a timeline. Palmer used some Arabic manuscripts listing the kings of Katsina as well as the Kano Chronicle and other sources. Yusufu Bala Usman likewise utilized similar written lists. Others, such as Landeroin and Issaka Dankoussou draw more from oral traditions. Indeed, Dankoussou's list of Katsina kings is similar to that of Landeroin, collected at the beginning of the 1900s. Hunwick has also drawn from some manuscripts to revise our chronology of Katsina kings, but it is less useful for the 1500s. Unfortunately, no manuscripts have come to light from the Fazzan, which could shed light on Katsina's kings since more than once Awlad Muhammad sultan fled to Katsina during troubles with Tripoli. 

But the particular Katsina sarki we are interested in, Yusuf, was given a relatively lengthy reign by Dankoussou and Landeroin. Landeroin reported that Youssoufou reigned 14 years, while Dankoussou also dated his reign 1599-1613. Both concur that Yusuf succeeded Ibrahim Maje and preceded Abdul Kadir (or Abdoul Kerim, in Landeroin's list). Where they disagree most glaringly is in the very long reign Dankoussou assigned to Ibrahim Maje (1531-1599). Landeroin only reported a reign of 18 years. 

When one looks upon Palmer and Yusufu Bala Usman's work, a different picture emerges. Palmer's "History of Katsina" does not even include Yusuf among the list of kings, despite collating different kinglists. Instead, his list jumps from "Maje Ibrahim" (dated 1494-1520) to Abdul Karim and Ashafa. Intriguingly, his list concurs with Landeroin on the exceedingly short reign of Ashafa (8 days to 1 week). Later, Usman's study of Katsina history did include Yusuf, relying on an oral informant for what was supposedly a brief reign. If Usman's dating is correct, Yusuf reigned c. 1562 or 1563 before his deposition or abdication. One cannot help but wonder if Usman's informant was actually mistaking Yusuf for Ashafa. Moreover, Usman also changes the order of succession, having Yusuf succeed Abd al-Karim. 

Ultimately, one may why any of this matters? Well, according to Dankoussou, Borno attacked Katsina during the reign of Yusuf. If this tradition has any merit, one would like to have a better chronology for Yusuf and to determine if it was part of any larger campaigns launched from Borno into Hausaland. One would also be interested in knowing what role, if any, Borno played in the abdication or deposition of Yusuf (assuming that is not a mistaken tradition confusing him with Ashafa). In addition, we also find problematic the dates used by Usman for Muhammad Wari (c. 1575-1587). According to Dankoussou, Kwararafa attacked Katsina during the reign of Muhammad Wari, and his dates (1625-1637) "fit" more evenly with that period of Kwararafa aggression against northern states (mentioned in the Kano Chronicle for the reign of Muhammad Zaki, c. 1582-1618). Until we have a better chronology of Katsina's history that can be corroborated by different texts or oral traditions, much of its history before the jihad will remain elusive.

Saturday, April 11, 2026

Dieux en diaspora, Les Loa Haïtiens et les Vaudou du Royaume d'Allada (Bénin)

Guérin Montilus's Dieux en diaspora. Les Loa Haïtiens et les Vaudou du Royaume d'Allada (Bénin) is a short but richly detailed study comparing the Rada Rite in Haitian Vodou with Vodun in Allada. Based on fieldwork in both Haiti and Allada, Montilus is able to trace the origin of various lwa in Haiti and offer a model for why the mythology around many deviated so greatly from source materials in Allada. However, an African sedimentation of the mythology around many lwa persists, as do some of the concepts and larger framework in which these entities operate. But the destructive impact of the slave trade and enslavement in Saint Domingue, as well as contact with Christianity and various other African peoples undoubtedly led to many transformations and shifts in the conception of the Rada Rite. Montilus hints at this when examining the Simbi spirits, for instance, or theorizing how Congo or Petro rites incorporate more Central African ideas of magic. Montilus's main weakness is perhaps not examining the ways in which Vodun in Benin is a living tradition, hence another cause for its differences from Haitian practice. After all, if Haitians were able to develop a radically new mythology in some cases involving Erzilie, Ogou, Agwe, or other lwa, why wouldn't people in Benin have also adapted the spirits to meet their changing world? One can imagine Dahomey's conquest of Allada in 1724, their conquest of Ouidah, the French colonial conquest, and Christianity also had some impact here (perhaps even before colonialism through contacts with the Portuguese?). The diversity of legends and stories about Legba, Chango, and other vodun in Benin is perhaps a remnant of this great diversity in practice and mythology in today's Benin that has deep historical roots. Anyway, we hope to now read a recently published history of Vodou (again, focusing on the connections to the Slave Coast) that investigates more deeply the political factors shaping religion and spirituality in this part of West Africa. 

Friday, April 10, 2026

Muhammad Kisoki and Borno

            The altercation between Borno and Kano during the reign of the latter’s Muhammad Kisoki is an intriguing example of conflict between the two states. Although there are some chronological ambiguities that require attention, Yusufu Bala Usman has connected Kisoki’s raid on Nguru with the Kano campaign of Borno during the time of Idris Alooma. According to Ahmad b. Furtu, a highly biased but contemporary source, Kano had “betrayed” Borno through fortifying towns or sites on their border with Borno and launching attacks. In response, Borno raised an army which destroyed the fortifications or walls and then failed to take Kano itself.[1] Importantly, the opposing side’s perspective can be glimpsed through the Kano Chronicle. Thus, one does not have to rely solely or mainly on Ahmad b. Furtu’s panegyrical text for his patron, unlike the case of most of the other peoples Borno went to war against during the lengthy reign of Idris Alooma. Therefore, this brief article shall examine Borno-Kano relations during the reign of Muhammad Kisoki, focusing on the raids launched from Kano against Borno and the response. This post argues that Muhammad Kisoki’s eastern raids likely correspond to the campaigns described by Ahmad b. Furtu and were autonomous Kano initiatives rather than part of a Kebbi-led regional conflict.

By examining this episode more closely, however, one sees yet again the influence of Maidaki Hauwa (and her brother, Guli) in a confrontation with Borno. Maidaki Hauwa had previously been involved with suppressing a revolt by the Dagachi in Kano, someone descended from the Sayfawa line and very influential. After preventing his rebellion, her son, Abdullahi, returned from a campaign and then faced an invasion from Borno. Undoubtedly linked to the Dagachi’s actions, Kano’s king, accompanied by mallams, had to submit to the mai. Then, once the mai returned to Borno, Abdullahi tricked or deceived the Dagachi and gave his office to a slave.[2] Although taking place several years before the Borno-Kano conflict during Idris Alooma’s reign (1564-1596, according to Lange’s chronology), it is very likely that Kisoki’s influential grandmother and her brother, whose influence at court was extremely powerful, shaped Kano state policy with regard to the frontier with Borno. By taking another look at this critical juncture, one can see just how realpolitik shaped relations between a regional power like Borno and the smaller Hausa states which, depending on one’s view, paid tribute or sent regular “gifts” to the mai.

But can we confidently date Muhammad Kisoki’s attacks on Borno with the reign of Idris Alooma? The two only overlapped, using Lange’s chronology and the dates in the Kano Chronicle, c. 1564-1565. Dierk Lange has suggested that the conflict with Kano occurred early in Idris b. Ali’s reign, perhaps in c. 1564, but other sources suggest the mai went on a pilgrimage to Mecca at this time.[3] Since our dates for Kisoki and Idris Alooma are approximations and other king lists of Kano give Kisoki’s predecessor a slightly longer list, one could possibly make the case for a longer period of overlapping reigns.[4] The other problem with Kisoki’s Borno conflict occurring during the reign of Idris Alooma is the praise song mentioning his grandmother, Hauwa. She could have been alive in the 1560s as a very aged woman, but some may prefer to date this period of conflict to an earlier decade in Kisoki’s lengthy reign.

The other issue with establishing a clearer chronology is the, quite frankly, mess made by previous generations of scholars interested in this part of the world. For instance, M.G. Smith, without a single source to back his speculative reasoning, suggested that Kisoki’s raiding of Borno territory may have been done in conjunction with the Kanta of Kebbi. Without any firm evidence and relying upon later sources and traditions of the power and stature of the Kanta in this part of West Africa, Smith has argued that Kisoki may have been the Kanta’s representative in central Hausaland. Consequently, Kisoki’s raid may be associated with Kebbi’s larger conflict with Borno. Building this possible theory on flimsy foundations, Smith then tentatively dates Kisoki’s attack on Nguru to 1544.[5]

Although Smith is merely suggesting possible regional scenarios to contextualize the wars and raiding between the major states in the Central Sudan, this is hardly supported by the source materials. While Muhammad Bello in the 1800s wrote of Kebbi conquering other Hausa states like Kano in the 1500s, it is very difficult to detect any of this in the Kano Chronicle or the Bornoan records. The Chronicle actually portrays Kisoki as the ruler of all of Hausaland. Indeed, according to this same source, “He waged war on Birnin Unguru because of Agaidam.”[6] This last word brings to mind Geidam in modern Nigeria, to the east of Nguru. This area may have been a source of contention as Borno was facing an extended famine during Abd Allah b. Dunama’s reign (c. 1557-1564).[7] This could have been influenced by the wars between Borno and Kebbi, as well as the distractions Borno faced from the Bulala to the east in Kanem and local revolts by the Sao in Borno and other groups. Seeing an advantageous position to strike, Kisoki (or perhaps his grandmother’s brother, who was extremely influential in the royal court) may have envisioned Kano extending further east. Certainly, booty in horses and textiles were desirable since Kisoki ordered no captives taken from Nguru.

Furthermore, utilizing all the various sources on the Kanta of Kebbi and his negative relations with Borno suggests a large-scale confrontation in which Borno attempted to besiege Surame took place in c. 1561. Traditions referring to this do not reference Kano at all. In fact, it was on Katsina territory the Bornoan forces engaged in combat with the Kanta.[8] This is highly suggestive of Kano’s actions against Borno likely being autonomous responses of the state to Borno and perceived weaknesses on its western borderlands with Kano.

For these aforementioned reasons, one is inclined to agree with Yusufu Bala Usman. Usman, in a largely insightful article on the history of relations between Borno and the Hausa states, correctly identified Kisoki’s raids with the ones described by Ahmad b. Furtu. Moreover, as Furtu writes, these raids were a “betrayal” by the people of Kano. As for the Kano Chronicle, Kano attacked Nguru because “it is the will of God.”[9] Usman’s reasoning here is not entirely clear, but the raids from Kano and the reference to the building of walls or fortifications around various towns in the Kano kingdom  are consistent with the actions of Kisoki. After all, by improving defenses on his eastern frontier, forces from Kano could more safely engage in raids or attacks on western Borno or its vassal provinces, then retreat to secure sites if pursued or followed. Over time, this could have led to a gradual increase in Kano’s influence and possible territorial gains to the east. One suspects the “will of God” as a justification of war was designed to show Kisoki as waging just war against various subject peoples of Borno who were not necessarily Muslims.

Agreeing with Usman also allows one to gain some insight into how both sides viewed their actions. One already knows the Borno perspective, even if Ahmad b. Furtu was not an eyewitness to the Kano campaign. He nonetheless wrote an explanation for the campaign based on Kano and its fortified towns like Kirza, Kalmasan, Majiya, Ukluya, Dulu, Awazaki, Ajiyajiya, Sa’iyya, Galaki and Kay. To Furtu, they not only fortified many settlements, but “resorted to abominable cunning and vile deeds.”[10] The conflict ended with the “many” expeditions launched against Kano, including Majagani. These expeditions led to the destruction of fortifications while the residents fled. Unfortunately, most of these expeditions are not described in detail and after the destruction of Majiya’s fortifications, the Bornoan forces were allegedly able to dismantle the walls and fortresses placed around other towns with little or no resistance. It is very unlikely that the ruler of Kano would have sat idly by, even if the musketry of Borno proved very effective against Majiya’s defenders. Overall, Furtu’s account seems to suggest Kano began this process of fortifying towns and launching raids before the reign of Idris Alooma, especially since the labor and resources necessary to build walls around several towns or cities could hardly have been accomplished in a short amount of time.

The Kano Chronicle, likely written in the late 1800s, lacks this level of detail but understandably highlights the moment of Kisoki’s victory as Borno failed to take Kano city. As previously mentioned, Muhammad Kisoki ordered the raiding of Nguru, a town which was the capital of the powerful galadimas of Borno by the 1600s. Murray Last has read the account of this as symbolic warfare, playing with the idea of the Kanuri word for the Hausa, afuno, and arse-clothes or nudity. After all, Kisoki did not take captives but focused on horses and clothes.[11] However, this symbolic meaning may not be relevant if Kisoki was endeavoring to present himself as a legitimate Muslim ruler not willing to take Muslim captives. Indeed, even Ahmad b. Furtu portrayed his patron similarly. Next, the Chronicle explains how the ruler of Borno then sought to attack Birnin Kano the following year, but failed to take the town. This led to an extended praise song which even included Maidaki Hauwa as the “old lady with swaggering gait, old lady of royal blood, guarded by men-at-arms.”[12] By praising Kisoki as the “physic of Bornu and the Chiratawa,” one can also surmise that Kano’s war with Borno involved Shira. Despite this victory of sorts, or at least the failure of the attempted assault on Kano, Kisoki invited prominent shaykhs from Borno anyway.[13] One may surmise here that Borno was still perceived as a source of reputable Islamic scholars and religious figures, Kano’s rulers were entrenching their own state legitimacy through war and Islam.

Ultimately, both sides could claim some degree of victory. Kano was able to withstand a military attack on its capital from its powerful neighbor. Borno, on the other hand, secured its western frontier by destroying fortifications and weakening Kano’s ability to launch deeper raids into Borno. Doing so inevitably aided the economy through the increased security for traders and travelers. It likewise made it easier for Borno to focus on internal rebellious groups and the Bulala to the east for a number of Kanem expeditions. Kano, meanwhile, was able to protect its capital and, unlike Abdullahi, Kisoki did not have humble himself before the mai. This expresses a growth in the political stature of the sarki who could meet the Sayfawa as a peer. Lastly, an attempt at revisiting the various sources on this encounter does support Kisoki’s raiding activities to the east as likely to be the same as those mentioned by Ahmad b. Furtu. Furtu’s account is too brief and not backed by eyewitness testimony. But based on the scale of operations and the necessary shovels, hoes, and implements to destroy town walls at various sites and then to attack Kano’s capital, the Kano expeditions must have been large and time-consuming.



[1] See Dierk Lange, A Sudanic chronicle: the Borno Expeditions of Idrīs Alauma (1564–1576 according to the account of Ahmad b. Furtū. Arabic text, English translation, commentary and geographical gazetteer for a detailed translation of Ahmad b. Furtu’s text.

[2] For an attempt at making sense of the Dagachi and his descendants in Kano and their impact on Kano-Borno relations, see Behique Dunama, “The Dagachi of Kano: Elite Exiles, Political Centralization, and Kano-Borno Relations,” https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2026/03/the-dagachi-of-kano-elite-exiles.html.

[3] See Dierk Lange, A Sudanic Chronicle, 69.

[4] See Paul E. Lovejoy and John Hunwick, “Not Yet the Kano Chronicle,” Sudanic Africa 4 (1993) for different regnal years for Kano’s rulers. One manuscript assigns Abdullahi, Kisoki’s father, a reign of 12 years instead of the 10 in the Kano Chronicle.

[5] M.G. Smith, Government in Kano, 1350-1950, 140-141.

[6] H.R. Palmer, “The Kano Chronicle,” The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 38 (1908), 79.

[7] See Dierk Lange, Le dīwān des sultans du (Kānem- )Bornū: chronologie et histoire d'un royaume africain (de la fin du Xe siècle jusqu'à 1808), 80.

[8] For a discussion of the various sources on Kebbi and Borno in the 1500s, see Behique Dunama, “The Kanta of Kebbi and Borno.” https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-kanta-of-kebbi-and-borno.html.

[9] Yusuf Bala Usman, “A Reconsideration of the History of Relations Between Borno and Hausaland Before 1804” in Yusufu Bala Usman & Muhammad Nur Alkali (editors), Studies in the History of Pre-Colonial Borno, 183-184.

[10] Dierk Lange, A Sudanic Chronicle, 66-67.

[11] Murray Last, “From Sultanate to Caliphate: Kano, 1450–1800 A.D.”  in Bawuro M. Barkindo (ed.), Studies in Kano History, 72.

[12] H.R. Palmer, “The Kano Chronicle,” 79.

[13] This may have predated the Kano campaign of Borno.