Histoire de l'Empire du Bornou

Yves Urvoy's Histoire de l'Empire du Bornou remains a key text on the history of Kanem-Borno. Although published during the colonial era, and deeply indebted to the Hamitic Hypothesis, and based on, from what we could ascertain, several questionable and dated translations of Arabic sources from the medieval era, Urvoy's survey provides an early overview of Kanem-Borno civilization from its origins to the colonial conquests. Unfortunately, blinded by racialist ideologies and therefore offering just-so theories of "white" nomads from the north and east interacting with "black" peasant or sedentary populations to create the "Sudanic" state in early Kanem, Urvoy's racial biases became the foundation for his explanation of its genesis. 

Thus, the Sao and local "black" populations of the era were politically fragmented, 'primitive' and the great Sudanic kingdoms and empires could only have come about through "Hamitic" or "white" nomadic groups with their racial pride and contacts with the more advanced Mediterranean or Middle Eastern worlds. Without any evidence, Urvoy can reach such conclusions based on colonial-era racial ideologies and justifications. Indeed, at times Urvoy's condescending tone is quite palpable to the reader. So, Urvoy's text is weak in its theoretical foundations, offering a "racialist" perspective on African history with little to no evidence. Like Palmer, he interprets oral traditions of eastern origins as literal history, although without the faulty linguistic and etymological gymnastics of Palmer. 

That said, Urvoy provided one of the better overviews of Kanem-Borno's history from its little known origins to the colonial era. His study benefitted from the collections of oral sources and primary source materials unknown or inaccessible to European writers like Barth and Nachtigal in the previous century. Urvoy also had some familiarity with primary sources like the Agadez Chronicle and early archaeological excavations in the region, all tools that seem to have not been available to Barth or Nachtigal. Of course, one can also take issue with the faulty chronology and dates for the Sefuwa dynasty mais created by Urvoy, which are certainly less accurate than that of Lange. 

Moreover, some of his conclusions about the weakness of different Sefuwa kings in the 17th and 18th century may not account for the shifting base of power and authority over 1000 years. For example, a strong or reputable mai may not necessarily require constant military campaigns. One is tempted to think Urvoy may have been applying stereotypes based on the history of the Roman Empire or Europe to describe some of the allegedly weak or incompetent kings. However, we here at the blog appreciated his breakdown of Kanem-Borno imperial administration and his attempt at analysis, based on our limited sources, of various eras in the millenium-long history of the Sefuwas, and the attempts by the Shehu dynasty to defend the Empire.

Borno in Brazil

Although we here at the blog have been interested in the history of Kanem-Borno and exploring the existence of links between Haiti and that ancient African civilization, it would be foolish to omit the Borno diaspora elsewhere in the Americas. In the case of Brazil, we can thank Francis Comte de Castelnau for his recording of interviews with various West Africans in mid-19th century Bahia. While many were Hausa and other West Africans, a number of his informants on the interior of  Africa were from Borno. Their names were Karo, Damoutourou, Aba-Hama, Suleman, Ali, Mammarou, and Ibrahim. A sketch of one, presumably Mammarou of Mounao (in Borno), appears in the image above, as Figure 1. While the Borno informants had arrived in Brazil at different times and in at least one case was in Brazil for over 30 years, their testimonies provides some context on Borno's turbulent 19th century. The wars with the Fulani, slave raids, tensions with Bagirmi, and their own brutal path to Bahia show the ways in which Borno was integrated into the larger world. 

In the case of Damoutourou, who had been in Brazil over 30 years, and could speak Hausa, Kanuri, "Begharmi" and "Wadei," it's possible he did not know of the fall of the Sayfawa dynasty. Karo, from Angoumati, another "Bernou" in Bahia, provides information of a fantastic sort on the so-called Niam-Niam cannibals. Mammarou, of Mounao, on the other hand, was a soldier who had traveled around Borno and its environs. Last, but certainly not least, Ibrahim of Borno claimed to have traveled to the east on the Mecca Route. He also claimed to have seen people who were cannibals in the lands south of Darfur....which probably goes to show how some Bornoans exaggerated and promoted tales of cannibals or humans with tails to gullible outsiders. Son of a Borno father and Hausa mother, Ibrahim's life is an additional example of the various ways in which the peoples of Borno were tied to their neighbors and beyond, from West Africa to the Red Sea. 

The other Africans interviewed by de Castelnau were not from Borno, but provide a number of details about it. Aboubakar of Bagirmi, for example, saw his homeland as a tributary of Borno. Born in Massenya, the capital, he knew of the eastern routes through Waday, Darfur, and "Zambulma." As one of the central lands on east-west "Sudanic" route that went from the Atlantic coast to the Red Sea, people from Baghirmi were well-situated to know of and encounter various African peoples, especially people from Borno who passed through en route to Sudan, Egypt, and Mecca. Oddly, Aboubakar did not recognize words like Kordofan, Abyssinia, or Nubia, perhaps reflecting unfamiliarity with terms not used in Baghirmi for eastern lands.

So, Brazil is definitely on the list of places with connections to Borno. While we have a lot of work to do before one can attempt an analysis of the experiences of "Borno" Africans in Bahia or other parts of the Latin American nation, they were clearly not alone among Muslims living in the region. Perhaps more were in Bahia and the Northeast than any in Rio de Janeiro, and they presumably participated in the cultural and religious community of African Muslims. We suspect that they may have joined hands with Hausa and Muslim Yoruba in the 1835 uprising, and perhaps in acts of marronage. If events in Saint Domingue were analogous, there may have been group activities tied to marronage and slave resistance that united the "Borno" Africans with their Hausa, Fulani, and Bagirmi "foes" and friends in Brazil.

The Ulama and the State in Borno

In our quest here at the blog to read all the relevant Nigerian scholarship on Borno, we finally read Bobboyi's dissertation, The 'Ulama of Borno: A study of the relations between scholars and state under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808. Due to their local proximity, access to oral and written sources, and a deeper familiarity with Kanuri history and culture, we have been trying to find more of the often inaccessible studies on Kanem-Borno by African scholars. Sadly, these excellent secondary sources are not easy to find. Lamentably, some of the precious primary sources at Nigerian archives or museums are not cited enough by outsiders, so we have to rely on Kanuri and other Nigerian scholars who have read the documents and have access to excellent sources on oral history to add context and fill in the gaps in our knowledge. 

For instance, Bobboyi's dissertation, and other studies by Nigerian scholars, cite late Sayfawa-era primary sources excluded in other studies, particularly two texts by Maina Muhammad Yanbu. These sources, although late in the history of the dynasty, should be more widely known, cited, and translated to add to the list of known internal textual sources on Kanem. But besides the use of important oral and written sources, Bobboyi's study establishes a clearer idea of who and what the ulama of Kanem-Borno were during the Borno period of the dynasty, with hints of continuity from their earlier Kanem phase. We get an inkling of the reputable scholars and their disciplines, the educational curriculum, how they were fully integrated into the state apparatus of Kanem-Borno as an Islamic administration, the role of the mahrams in shaping ulama-state relations, and Borno Sufism. This last chapter was probably the weakest, but given the limitations of the sources, a step forward in contextualizing the earlier history of Sufism in Kanem-Borno. Once we have read more of the Nigerian scholarship, we shall return to these topics in light of other perspectives on the administration of Kanem-Borno and Islamic influences. 

Tamerlan and Borno?

Bivar and Shinnie's Plan of Borno's Capital

Let us examine the case of a literate African named Tamerlan in Saint Domingue (Haiti) for evidence of another link between Haiti and Kanem-Borno. We have attempted an analysis of Tamerlan in a previous post. For those who don't remember, Tamerlan is mentioned in a book by Colonel Malenfant. In one anecdote, after mentioning Arabic amulets in Saint Domingue, he describes meeting Tamerlan, in 1791, a man who could read and write in his own language, as well as that of a type of "mulattoes" with long hair. Tamerlan wrote a prayer and the name of his language on a piece of paper for Malenfant, who later lost it.

At first he thought Tamerlan wrote something in Arabic, but he said no. So, there's some mystery about Tamerlan's writing. If we look at other clues in his story, however, it seems likely he wrote in ajami for his own language, possibly Kanembu or Kanuri. The writing of the long-haired mulattoes may have been the Tuareg Tifinagh, something he could have picked up from being an educated man of Borno who interacted with Tuaregs. Perhaps a mere coincidence, but Niebuhr's description of Borno uses the Kanuri word for Tuareg, and describes them as long-haired, suggesting Kanuri descriptions of Tuareg in the 18th century also linked them to long-hair. Additional clues suggest Tamerlan was from the interior of western Africa (it took more than 3 months for him to reach the coast after being taken captive). He also described himself as the teacher of a prince and as someone who produced books or texts. This would suggest a respected scholar or royal tutor, which would have been a common practice in Borno, as various mais aligned themselves with scholars and supported students. In West Africa, such a person would almost certainly be of a Muslim background and probably from a region with a long tradition of scholarship. Borno would fit the bill quite well.

He also describes the royal town as being a vast city, estimating it to have as many inhabitants as Port-au-Prince, the Cul-de-Sac plain, Arcahaie, and Leogane. Malenfant takes this to mean the city of Tamerlan had around 300,000 people, but a more reasonable estimate would be far less, as those areas of Saint Domingue probably didn't have a total population of 300,000 people in 1791. The towns would have been usually small, with a very large enslaved population in the Cul-de-Sac plain near Port-au-Prince (tens of thousands). But something on the scale of 100,000-200,000 would be more realistic, which could easily have been the case if Gazargamu had around 10,000 houses in the late 18th century. Either way, Tamerlan describes himself coming from the African interior, being literate in 2 writing systems (one possibly Tifinagh), and coming from a vast capital city ruled by a powerful king who would pay a fortune to have him back. We know in other incidences that Borno's rulers paid ransoms for the return of relatives or valuable persons, exemplified by Ali ibn. Umar and his nephew or as Nicholas Said reveals in his autobiography.

I don't know about you, but we could see Tamerlan being from Borno. While people from Borno were not very common in Saint Domingue, "Bernon" or "Beurnon" Africans were in Saint Domingue. Indeed, Descourtilz wrote about Borno based on discussions with "Beurnon" people in the colony, who told him how highly valued religious texts were in their homeland. In addition, Hausa captives were also there, so perhaps Tamerlan could have been from Katsina or Kano, or a tributary state of Borno. Yet the vast metropolis of his king sounds like Borno's capital. Of course, Malenfant remembers Tamerlan describing a well aligned city built of wood, where most of the houses were a single story. Gazargamu would have included brick and clay structures, but very likely a lot of wooden structures or "huts" as part of household compounds or the housing of the less fortunate. Perhaps Tamerlan was exaggerating how well-aligned the streets of the city were, as North African sources suggest Gazargamu had an irregular layout without proper "streets." Indeed, with the exception of the dendal and the street leading to the principal mosque, we find it hard to believe the city of Gazargamu was well aligned. 

With these caveats, we still think there's a good chance Tamerlan was indeed a native of Borno. Perhaps someone with a thorough education, who could understand Tuareg Tifinagh, and was respected and supported by the ruler of his state. While he could have been from other parts of West Africa, the fact that he claimed to be from a vast city in the African interior and comes from a society where scholarship, ajami writing, and books were highly valued, suggests a Borno origin. The enormous city he described may have been the Gazargamu said to have had 200,000 inhabitants. If so, Tamerlan's story of his origin can be additional evidence for the substantial urban civilization of Borno under the Sefuwa dynasty. In order to confirm this story, we would need to find a source that mentions a royal prince of Borno being killed in the attack that led to Tamerlan's enslavement, perhaps the very same cruel prince mentioned by Descourtilz? Alternatively, Tamerlan could have hailed from East Africa, perhaps Ethiopia or Sudan, but we consider that less likely due to the much higher numbers of West and Central Africans in Saint Domingue. 

The Pillow Book

We here at the blog have finally completed our reading of McKinney's translation of The Pillow Book. Since much of the book is not written in any specific chronological order, and consists of various lists and anecdotes, we read it slowly, trying to immerse ourselves in the court culture of Heian-era Japan over the course of several days. While it occasionally became something of a chore to read certain passages or anecdotes, one is utterly charmed by the wit, character flaws, and timeless qualities of life as portrayed by Sei Shonagon. The gossip, fawning praise of Her Majesty Teishi, and dismissive attitudes toward commoners can be a bit much, but the timeless quality of life and relationships, with the typical troubles of romance, raising children, proper social relations, moments of joy with friends and loved ones, etc. all speak to modern audiences. If a woman who lived over 1000 years ago can speak to readers from around the world today, then she's produced a timeless work that will continue to entertain, provoke, resonate, infuriate, and break hearts, even when so much of the genius behind her poetry and barbed tongue is lost in translation.

The Autobiography of Nicholas Said and Ambivalent Modernity

Said, via Wikipedia

Nicholas Said's relatively short autobiography is one of the most interesting textual sources produced by a native of Borno. The author of this slave narrative was kidnapped by Tuaregs and sold into slavery in North Africa. From Tripoli, Said accompanied a Turkish master who ran a tobacco shop, on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Along the way, Said traveled to Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, today's Saudi Arabia, Somalia, and Muscat. One almost wishes he told us more about the Ethiopian traders he met in Khartoum, or about the African pilgrims en route to Mecca in Sudan and Ethiopia. Alas, that was not his focus, but it would have been interesting if he met others from Borno in Sudan and Ethiopia. After his master's shop is burned down (with half of Tripoli's Turkish bazaar), our protagonist is sent to Izmir, where he is sold to a politically connected Turk who then takes him to Constantinople. After brushing shoulders with the cosmopolitan elites of Constantinople, he is acquired by a Russian diplomat and aristocrat who takes him to the Russian Empire. 

Via travels with a Russian employer, he traverses Europe, experiencing all the aesthetic, technological, and cultural advances of mid-19th century West. Eventually, when in London and planning a return to Borno, a Dutch client offers him employment for an extended trip to North America and the Caribbean. Visiting US cities, the Bahamas, Haiti, and Jamaica, Said and his employer return to the US and Canada, where Said is abandoned after loaning his boss funds. Stranded in Canada, he is encouraged to go to Buffalo, New York, where there are more "colored" people. Thus began Said's experiences in the US on a permanent basis. Perhaps due to the delicate post-Civil War conditions in the US South, Said does not disclose his service in the Union Army. One is also struck by the number of elite or royal people Said claims to have met or served, including receiving a gift from the Czar Nicholas I. One almost senses in this a Kanuri cultural practice of dependents seeking wealthy or powerful men as patrons, and perhaps Said's namedropping was a reflection of that. Or perhaps it served as a counter to US racism, as a "black" man, though in a servile position, was valued and respected by cosmopolitan European elites and experienced little to no racial prejudice. One can sense some tensions, perhaps tied to his race, with European domestics in Russia, and we can be sure there was a lot more that happened to Said in Europe or Turkey than he's willing to admit. Alternatively, Said may have looked to the famous "Negro" of Peter the Great as a model for refashioning his life in the Russian Empire.

So, what does Nicholas Said's biography tell us about Borno and the experience of Borno's peoples in the modern world? First, Said himself represents Borno as a political project encompassing a variety of ethnic groups, including the Kanuri, Shuwa, Kanembu, and, in the case of Said, "Mandra" (Mandara) and Molgoy. Molgoy were a people whose ruling chief accepted a tributary relationship with Borno under Mai Barnoma. Said's mother, Dalla, was the daughter of a Mandra chief. Yet despite these non-Kanuri origins, Said seems to identify wholeheartedly with Borno and refers to the Borno or Kanuri language as his vernacular. Perhaps this a reflection of his father's military service under Shehu al-Kanemi, which meant Said grew up in Kukawa, the capital, and socialized with a son of Shehu Omar. Either way, this is an interesting example of how multiethnic the empire of Borno was, and to what extent people from "pagan" tributary or vassal states in the region could ascend the ranks of the military and social status. 

After all, Mohammad Ali ben Said was the son of Barca Gana, a famous general who defended Borno against the Fulani, Bagirmi, Wadai, and other enemies or raiders. Indeed, it was presumably through his father's prominence and connections with al-Kanemi and his successor that Said was sent for schooling to Malam Katory, a reputed scholar described as being well-versed in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. Presumably having such a respectable teacher in Arabic was expected for people of elite origins in Borno. Moreover, it was open to people who were not of Kanuri, Kanembu, or Shuwa origins, though Said clearly thought the Kanuri were the ruling class or caste and not above oppressing Shuwa, Kanembu, or other groups.

After establishing how internally diverse and dynamic Borno society was in the 19th century, it's important to consider Said as a native of Borno in the volatile 19th century world, experiencing steamships, railroads, European architecture and science. There is a long-running, underlying current of racial uplift in Said's autobiography, perhaps acquired from his experience in the US with African-Americans and whites. In his own manner, he attacks the argument of African inferiority, while implicitly casting Africans as primitive and the "race" as one in need of elevation through education and uplift. This is the basis for sensing some ambivalence in Said's experience of 'modernity' and tradition, one in which he can praise aspects of Borno and the Ottoman Turks while cursing African Islam as retrograde. Indeed, in Said's retelling of Borno's past and the history of African achievements in technology and handicrafts, he seems to think the palace ruins at Gambaru and Ngazargamu were the achievements of pre-Islamic Borno. Consequently, one can sense an ambivalence in Said's autobiography in terms of religion and race in a changing world. Thus, he can praise the example of the Haitian Revolution as an achievement for our race while wishing Haiti remained colony.

Experiencing the trans-Saharan slave trade first-hand, and 2 distinct but connected routes that carried him from Tripoli to Mecca and back), it is fascinating to see how someone who was reared Muslim and received an Islamic education for at least 2 years struggled with Islam. After baptism in Riga, at the pressure of his Russian aristocratic employer, Said appears to have gradually adopted more severe and dismissive attitudes to Islam. The religion of his homeland, indeed, is blamed for bringing destruction, fanaticism, and slave raiding. Since his audience for the autobiography consisted of Christian Americans in the 19h century, perhaps one can see Said embellishing or exaggerating his religious sentiments or identity. Yet he could have been sincere in those beliefs, and struggled to make sense of the "contest" between Christianity and Islam, the former better for Africa (and the "race"). In this light, it is interesting to compare Said with Edward Blyden. Unlike Blyden, who was not a product of an Islamic West African society, Said presented himself as a Christian who rejects Islam's influence in the continent. Blyden, on the other hand, saw Islam as preparing Africa for eventual Christianization, and in the meantime, promoting education and moderation for moral uplift. Like Said, Blyden did not truck with "fetishism" but both claimed to be for the race. Both also saw in the "mulatto" an implacable obstacle to countries like Haiti. How is it that two men with extensive traveling and education, both in favor of improving the "race," develop ambivalent attitudes toward Africa in the modern world while stressing the benefits of opposing religions? And what does this suggest for the role of Borno in the larger theme of Islam and modern Africa?

A Bornocentric World

We here at the blog cannot recommend a book more passionately than Du lac Tchad à La Mecque by Rémi Dewière. Using primarily the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu, a French captive's writings on Borno who was enslaved in Tripoli in the 17th century, plus a variety of other local and external sources on on Borno, Dewière's study shows what can be accomplished with new theoretical models that reconsider our unfortunately limited primary source materials. By situating Borno in a Braudelian Sahara and trans-Sahelian context, one can gain new insights into the nature of the Borno sultanate's development as the dominant power in the "Central Sudan" and Lake Chad Basin. The text introduces us to the geography, climate, ecology, seasonal nature of trans-Saharan trade, shifts in Islamic practice and shifting legitimating ideologies of the Sefuwa dynasty to elucidate how Borno's rulers from the 1500s to early 1700s engaged with the wider world. Naturally, much of the story here focuses on Idris Alooma and successors like Ali ibn Umar in the 17th century, but the analysis encompasses earlier and later moments in the long-lived Sefuwa house. 

Most significantly for us, the analysis includes Borno's relations with lands further east, connecting "Sudanic" Africa from the Senegal River to the Red Sea. Of course, much more work remains to be done by archaeologists and historians eager to explore this topic, but this important book on Borno at its apogee includes some theories on the nature of trade and cultural exchange between Borno and lands further east, such as the Funj Sultanate and Ethiopia. While the "Sudanic" pilgrim route was probably already in practice by the later period encompassed in the study, we hoped there would be additional sources that could shed light on this intriguing dilemma. For such an approach, however, one would probably have to contextualize the history of Kanem, Bagirmi, Wadai, Darfur and the Kordan from 1500-1710. So, a future book awaits researchers eager to connect the entirety of the "Bilad al-Sudan" and center this "Sudanic" context for the history of Africa. The primary obstacle would be the paucity of surviving records to illuminate this, since the external Arabic sources usually prioritize trans-Saharan over trans-Sahelian contacts. Either way, the oral traditions referenced in the study suggest Kanem-Borno played a key role as a brigde between the Eastern and Western "Sudan," with villages in Darfur believed to have been established by people from Borno. Indeed, the Banī Dāwud of the Sefuwa dynasty may have settled there after the dynastic squabbles in the 15th century, if oral traditions can be reliable here. 

While we still wish something akin to Dewière was applied to the Sefuwa dynasty's earlier Kanem period, one must accept the limitation of the sources and hope for archaeology to shed light on early Kanem and its role in the premodern world. We here, through our own speculative reading of the external Arabic sources on Kanem and Nubia, tend to think migrations and trade between the Eastern and Western "Sudan" was already in place. Kanem may very well have already been the dominant cultural and political influence in the lands between Lake Chad and the Nile through the "Zaghawa" and the "Taju." Perhaps later polities like Uri, Wadai, and Darfur (and its previous dynasties) reflect an earlier influence from Kanem that intersected with Christian Nubia. Perhaps, for all we know, the Sefuwa rulers in Borno were continuing the political and cultural agenda of their forebears.