23andMe Chromosome Segment Sharing

Since hearing about 23andMe finally bringing back the chromosome browsing feature that allows one to see one's matches with DNA Relatives on the site, we checked it out for our account (and that of our Haitian parent). For us, unfortunately, 23andMe still maxes out one's DNA matches at 5000. This means that the overwhelming majority of matches I have on that site are those sharing my "Hispanic" roots. For African matches, our Haitian parent has more luck. We were able to browse a number of them and see the shared segments with people from Nigeria, Congo (via South Africa), Sierra Leone, Ghana, Liberia, and other places. 

Interestingly, we saw that our Haitian parent shares a segment of DNA on their X chromosome that overlaps with that of a Fulani person (judging from surname) who is likely from Sierra Leone and someone else from Sierra Leone who is possibly Temne (inferring from surname). And through our Haitian parent's account, we saw that we share the Temne person as a match (even though 23andMe doesn't actually list this person in my DNA Relatives). In any case, the shared segments were always small (11.37 cM for the Temne, 11.58 cM for the Fulani). So, through our Haitian parent's side, we appear to have a female ancestor who was possibly from a Temne-like (or adjacent group) background who was trafficked to Saint Domingue. We assume the Fulani shares this Temne-like ancestry with us. But to make things more surprising, our parent did share a segment of DNA with another Fulani on the second chromosome that was assigned as "Senegambian and Guinean."

In terms of the paper trail, the colonial parish registries, runaway slave ads and notarized contracts or plantation inventories list a number of "nations" from what is now Sierra Leone and Liberia. Some examples include the Timbou, Mamou, Susu, and Mende. Cangas, Mesurades, Miserables, Bouriquis, and more from the Liberian and Ivory Coast regions were also present in the colony, according to Moreau de Saint-Mery. 

We will likely keep exploring this new shared segment viewing feature to explore our Haitian parent's matches with Liberians, Nigerians, and Ghanaians. It is just unfortunate that the Historical Matches feature doesn't allow for this. Nor can one see specific shared segments used by 23andMe to assign the African Genetic Group matches that appear in the Ancestry Composition breakdown. Adding these features would make the site more useful and important for genealogical research. 

Yarnam, Mandara and Descourtilz

 

Something we have thought about for some time now is the reference to a tyrannical and extreme Sayfawa maina in a 19th century Mandara chronicle. The kirgam, translated in French in Eldridge Mohammadou's Le Royaume du Wandala, ou Mandara, au XIXe siècle, was the subject of another post on the ill-fated 1781 Mandara campaign of Borno. But the chronicle, despite being written several years after the war and from a highly biased perspective, also tells us of a Sayfawa prince named Yarnam who robbed, raped, and killed en route to Mandara. At a place called Karangou, Yarnam was said to have stayed with a man named Ali Ayssami. The prince not only demanded money, he also raped his host's wife and daughter and executed her son. When the host sought justice from the mai of Borno, Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama, he received nothing. 

While this episode could be a literary invention to portray the Sayfawa ruler in as poorly a light as possible and make his attack on Mandara unjust, it is interesting to note Descourtilz also reported something similar about an African prince who was extremely cruel and monstruous. In the case of Descourtilz, however, it is left ambiguous as to the origin of this prince. But he included the anecdote of this prince in a chapter on Borno, based on interviews with Africans from there living in Saint Domingue (modern Haiti). In Descourtilz's version, this African prince mercilessly killed a child and then killed the daughter of a ruler in a neighboring state. Since the daughter had the same name as the animal meant for sacrifice in some sort of ritual or rite (labani, a forest beast), the despotic prince killed her and offered her as a sacrifice. Needless to say, this triggerered a larger conflict won by the father of the princess. His victory against the prince and his followers supposedly led to some of them ending up on the Rossignol-Desdunes plantation in colonial Haiti.

As previously mentioned, the story reported by Descourtilz does not specify that the young prince was from Borno. But it is inserted in a short chapter on Borno. Is it possible this young prince was the same Yarnam mentioned in the Mandara chronicle? The timing is consistent with a perhaps 1780s Sayfawa maina whose extremely abusive and violent actions led to his demise. Some of his followers may have ended up in Saint Domingue by the end of the 1780s and then were met by Descourtilz. Of course, Descourtilz never clearly identified the place of origin for the prince he was writiing about. 

Fey

Just a classic RAM song from the 1990s...brings back better memories, even though we have never been huge fans of RAM.

Foucault's Pendulum

As fans of Ishmael Reed's masterpiece novel, Mumbo Jumbo, Naoki Urasawa's Twentieth Century Boys, as well as Chris Carter's Millennium (although the second season was not exactly in the vein of what Carter would have done), we finally read Foucault's Pendulum. This is a novel we endeavored to read a few years ago on a Kindle but due to its length and subject matter, a text like this is meant to be read in physical form. Umberto Eco has created the ultimate anti-occult, anti-conspiracy theory book using a conspiracy and invented Tradition. This zany tale involves everything from Jewish mysticism, alchemy, Ism'ailism, and Candomble to the Templars, Rosicrucians, Paulicians, Nazism, Freemasonry, telluric currents and the Jesuits. It is also an excellent work for the bibliophiles and book editors, since the Plan concocted by the 3 Italian editors is really a masterful work of erudition and throws a number of references to major texts in the history of Western literature, esotericism, and even popular culture (Mickey and Minnie Mouse, for instance). 

In terms of the novel's structure, most of it is really Casaubon narrating the previous steps that led to him staying in the Musée des Arts et Métiers in Paris after hours to witness an occult gathering of various Diabolicals (believers in various strands of occultist knowledge who come to believe in the Plan concocted by Belbo, Casaubon and  Diotallevi). Occasionally, journal entries or literary pieces from the computer, Abulafia, of Belbo, provide additional narration of events that shape the novel. By the end, the three book editors, who initially approached the subject of the Plan with an inventive sense of humor, find themselves trapped in a whirlwind of curious and dangerous events. Along the way, Belbo is forced to revisit his memories of the latter days of Fascist Italy and lost opportunities while Casaubon tries to find another, deeper, meaning in the plethora of invented esoteric currents mixed together to in a deep way. 

While Umberto Eco did not seek to undermine the racial and Eurocentric biases that Ishmael Reed highlighted with Jes Grew, he managed to produce an intellectually sophisticated look at how the occult mind works and distorts to create new realities to make sense of their zeitgeist. This is why for each period, newly  invented "Tradition" is adapted to make sense of the world in the search for a higher truth. Perhaps more of the Diabolicals should have thought like Casaubon and Lia did about their own philosopher's stone...

Peep Show Laugh Track

 

If you ever wanted to know what Peep Show with a laugh track would be like, this Channel 4 Charity Comedy Gala clip is a good example. While it is always fun to see Jeremy and Mark doing mundane things together (which they do in the show, sometimes eating at restaurants like the Indian one where Jeremy requested 4 naan) or going to a pub, this clip captures our duo at their best. The clip here is quintessentially Peep Show but I think we're all glad that the show did not  use a laugh track...

Revisiting Contribution à l'étude de l'ethnobotanique précolombienne des Grandes Antilles

After reading numerous other studies on the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean, revisiting Jacques Roumain's "Contribution à l'étude de l'ethnobotanique précolombienne des Grandes Antilles" in Oeuvres Complètes  is a more meaningful experience. As the only substantial article on the indigenous peoples of Haiti (and the Greater Antilles) by Roumain, this piece from the 1940s shows Roumain attempting to bring together the historical, archaeological and linguistic sources. An added benefit is the inclusion of Haitian Creole names for various flora of the region, not just the Taino and Spanish names (often derived from the Taino or indigenous names). This is particularly interesting as one can see how Haitian Creole words for local flora are often not of Taino origin, though hardly shocking. But as one of the few articles that tries to bring Haitian perspectives into conversation with sources drawn from Spanish, English or German sources, Roumain's work shows there is a place for Haitian perspectives. Indeed, the Puerto Rican scholar, Francisco Moscoso, made a point of citing Nau for his understanding of how Taino chiefdoms worked through tribute obligations. One only wishes Roumain had lived long enough to explore other dynamics of indigenous Caribbean archaeology and socio-political questions. Perhaps Haitian ethnology could have maintained a more serious interest in the indigenous theme.

al-Maghili and The Obligations of Princes

Although it is a dated translation, Baldwin's The Obligations of Princes: An Essay on Moslem Kingship is one of the more accessible translations of al-Maghili's treatise on politics. Written for the ruler of Kano, Muhammad Rumfa (r. 1463-1499) when al-Maghili lived in Kano, Taj al- Din fi ma Yajib 'ala l- Muluk shows how the influential North African scholar conceived of an ideal Islamic state. Throughout the short treatise, al-Maghili focuses on the role of the king or sultan as a force of justice who seeks to rule in a way to support the spiritual and material well-being of their subjects. An essential refrain throughout the text is translated by Baldwin, "The veiling of the king from his subjects is the source of all mischief" (p. 7). Throughout several short chapters, the reader is reminded of this. 

Since the question of how to rule justly was a central aim, al-Maghili's account gives a number of directives to Rumfa on how a king should rule. As previously mentioned, a king must not veil himself from his subjects as this is the source of all mischief. Indeed, "God has not invested you with power that you may lord it over your subjects and dominate them; He has put you in authority only to foster their spiritual and material well-being." In order to avoid that pitfall, a ruler must "Manifest your love of what is excellent, and of worthy people; show your hatred of corruption and corrupt people" (7). And while a prince is allowed to adorn their person and court, they must not exceed what is acceptable for men or reduce their treasury. In other words, the king can and will look "the part" through lavish clothes, courts, and jewelry. But, there must be moderation so that kings will not abuse the treasury. Muhammad Rumfa appears to have followed this through his own lifestyle.

Besides, these aforementioned injunctions, al-Maghili offers a number of reasonable guidance on administration, the conduct of war, and the duties of the prince in these spheres. A king should always have a guard at hand and also endeavor to use guile rather than outright war when feasible. Princes must be skeptical of those who come bearing presents and to forfeit strongholds they cannot hold. These suggest that an ideal ruler must know how to operate a state in which military matters require diplomacy and guile. Furthermore, overexpansion or attempting to make gains one cannot hold are foolish. In the context of competing Hausa kingdoms of the 15th century, this advice could be seen as a warning to be careful about entanglements one cannot win or turn to one's advantage. To what extent Rumfa followed this is unclear since he went to war with Katsina for 11 years without either side winning.

Lastly, it is worth mentioning that in judgement and the law the duty of the ruler is to ensure justice and support. Indeed, these two are the pillars of royal authority. Thus, upright and informed witnesses must be included for taking testimony in a case. Similary, princes cannot accept bribes or take money in cases In addition, al-Maghili writes, "It is the bounden duty of a great prince to sit everyday where the women and children may have access to them" (15). Clearly, the ruler cannot be completely separated or divorced from his subjects. The weakest and most minor among them should be able to reach the king when they have legitimate grievances or complaints about his administrators or governors. Justice likewise entails lawful collection of retinue and taxation. This must follow religious law and avoid seizing goods from the people. In fact, the ruler should be liberal and use state revunies to suppor t those in need, strengthen defenses or fortresses, and provide for the Islamic religious establishment. The poor, oprhans, descendants of the Prophet, and others must be supported, too. 

If a ruler violated these rules for proper Islamic governance and became tyranical, al-Maghili views them as illegitimate. Subjects were under no obligation to support these rulers if a rebellion breaks out. Instead, al-Maghili wrote, "Leave him and your claims on him, for God will take vengeance on a tyrant by means of a tyrant, to the ruin of them both" (18). Here one can see that, to al-Maghili, the political authority immediately lost legitimacy when it violated the core precepts of Islamic statecraft. In other words, the consent of the governed is a core part of the state contract. One can see here the seeds of Uthman dan Fodio's jihad which rocked the region in the 19th century as various Habe governments were accused of corruption, unjust practices, and violating Islamic tenets. As al-Maghili's responses to Askia Muhammad demonstrate, similar accusations were made against Sunni Ali of Songhay. In Air, too, the al-Lamtuni's questions to al-Suyuti of Egypt indicate a similar problem with widespread political corruption and a number of other practices which both viewed as unjust.

In that light, it is interesting to compare the ideal vision of a Muslim ruler described by al-Maghili (who also responded to questions from Askia Muhammad of Songhay) with what is known of Muhammad Rumfa. Based on the The Kano Chronicle, Muhammad Rumfa is remembered for having undertaken a number of innovations as well as welcoming sharifs. Given his vast number of wives and for allegedly being the first to use ostrich feather sandals and the kakaki, Rumfa appears to have elevated the royal court's style, ostentation, and power, both symbolically and politically. But in terms of the veiling of the king from his subjects, it is difficult to discern how and to what extent Rumfa may have tried to ensure access to his subjects. Perhaps the giving of state offices to eunuchs was meant to increase the power of the sarki as these officials would be bound to Rumfa? In that sense, he may have followed al-Maghili's recommendation to appoint governors who did not buy their positions with gifts and to closely scrutinize how his officials administered areas under their control. But the lenthy war with Katsina said to have taken place during his reign may be an example of failing to recognize an impossible situation that requires relinquishing strongholds and focusing on guile or other strategems for military victory. 

Le portail de Bainet

We randomly encountered a painting of Gabriel Leroy depicting the portail of Bainet in the 1950s today. Since the painter was from Jacmel, it was included in a series on Jacmel, Jacmel en photos, by Jean-Elie Gilles. Although this painting is only showing one part of our ancestral town, it is always a pleasure to see more paintings of Bainet.

Doing the Impossible with Sun Ra

Greetings, black youth of planet Earth. The latest documentary on Sun Ra, Sun Ra: Do the Impossible aired on PBS recently. It is very well done and even includes interviews with members of the Arkestra. The filmmakers also did a great job integrating video clips and recordings from Sun Ra's lifetime with the mainstream narrative. They perhaps decided to play it safe and focus on the more immediately accessible side of Sun Ra's music rather than fully immersing the listener into the frantic free-jazz of some of his work. For a presumably similar reason, the film does not fully explore the complex and questionable framework of Sun Ra's writings in his Chicago period. Even his poetry was charitably described by Ishmael Reed as notes expressing the importance of music in his life. But overall, they succeed in portraying Sun Ra as a visionary who survived the Jim Crow South. His passion for music and his belief in its potential for communicating deeper message will undoubtedly resonate with many viewers. Even the concept of alter destiny is presented persuasively and with a powerful message of self-empowerment.

As the title suggests, the film focuses on the positive sides of Sun Ra's penchant for mythocracy. While there is an ugly downside to Sun Ra's occultism and esoterica (which is partly explored by members of the Arkestra describing it as being cult-like), this documentary portrays it in the context of African Americans and their marginalization. Stripped of their own past and forced to live someone else's myths, Ra's inventive imagination sought to counter this with a new future that looked to space. While one writer who appears in the film claims Sun Ra was a pioneer or a "first," it is actually quite clear that Sun Ra based his stage persona (and real life, since the two were so entwined) on past generations of black bandleaders, the traditions of Western and African American esotericism, Afrocentrism and black autodidacticism. Indeed, his vast library even included at least one work by J.A. Rogers and when the Arkestra visited Egypt, members of the band viewed it as "their" history (the Egyptians who can be seen in the shots of the Arkestra at the Sphinx or Great Pyramid must have been completely baffled!). Sun Ra was certainly the first to encapsulate so many of these elements in a jazz band, however. And since the documentary wisely sidelined most of Sun Ra's prose writings expressing his worldview, viewers are instead treated to an engaging overview of Ra's life and career. Even for those who have read biographies of Ra, there are some interesting aspects in his life we had forgotten about. For instance, the Arkestra's Philadelphia base was purchased for a dollar from Marshall Allen's father. Or that Esquire published a poem by Sun Ra on the eve of the Moon landing. 

Sadly, the 90 minute time slot severely limits how comprehensive these documentaries can be. Despite a pretty good overview of Sun Ra's upbringing and early career in Birmingham and Chicago, the New York years are hastily covered. The film highlights how Sun Ra was not accepted by critics, but one wishes they explored how Ra was a fixture at Slug's Saloon. Nor are jazz musicians from the free jazz period interviewed, even though they could have added a much-needed musician's perspective on how Sun Ra really "fit" in the avant garde New York jazz scene. Likewise, one would have liked more attention on John Gilmore and Marshall Allen as key members of the Arkestra who kept the band's legacy alive. In fact, when we saw the Arkestra live about 7 or 8 years ago, Allen was still leading the band in a performance very faithful to the multimedia aesthetic of Sun Ra. But without shedding light on these figures who kept the band going after Sun Ra's death or their own widely regarded musical talent (Gilmore), another example of how excellent the Arkestra truly was is missed. Obviously, Sun Ra ran the show and the band supported his vision, but truly remarkable musicians who were faithful to his band were what made the Arkestra work. This is clearly expressed in the almost spiritual relationship between Sun Ra and vocalist June Tyson, whose presence in the band is regal.

Our minor nitpicking aside, this is an excellent introduction to the complex life and oeuvre of Sun Ra. The timing does not allow for extra details, even though Ra's life was full of remarkable episodes and anecdotes. For instance, Sun Ra thinking "Nuclear War" could be a pop hit and trying to get major labels interested. Or the story of the white judge who Sun Ra told would never see another black person like him. Hopefully, viewers of the documentary will go on to read Szwed's fantastic Space Is the Place. Sun Ra was a very unique person, but rightfully built his own myth to escape the myth of black inferiority and subjugation. We are almost inspired to revisit his broadsides and the reading lists for the course he taught at UC-Berkeley.

Port-au-Prince au cours des ans (1804-1888)

The volume covering Port-au-Prince from 1804-1888 in Georges Corvington's Port-au-Prince au cours des ans is very important for establishing the pattern of urban (under)development that has characterized Port-au-Prince throughout Haiti's history as an independent nation. Of course, Corvington focuses on the history of Port-au-Prince's urban confines, characteristics, economy, and cultural life means the larger story of Haitian underdevelopment and peripheral status in the world system of the 19th century are largely ignored. But any full understanding of why Port-au-Prince, despite some positive reforms in the years of Geffrard's presidency, or even part of the Salomon years, often failed to consistently maintain urban policies to rebuild or expan infrastructure, must be seen within the larger structural problems of Haitian political economy beyond the capital. By narrowing one's focus on the capital, however, the nefarious consequences of Haiti's structural woes are immediately clear, elucidating why the city in 2026 is unfortunately like its 19th century counterpart.

While the seeds were undoubtedly sown in the colonial era, this volume demonstrates how the various governments for most of Haiti's first century after the Revolution failed to manage and sustain the capital's growth. The perennial problem of instability and frequent revolutions, fires, natural disasters, or economic woes made the capital one which often lacked the infrastructure to adequate house its people. In addition, a large class of urban poor who were either unemployed or underemployed were already evident, with beggars known for congregating in public places and sleeping by the cathedral. Like today, the city's poor roads, badly managed tramway service (driven by horses in the 1870s and 1880s), and the failure of the municipal and national authorities to maintain sanitation, roads, or the distribution of water made much of the capital an unagreeable place. 

Despite these many problems, the capital was not without its charms. For instance, the Geffrard years witnessed a flourishing moment for the elite and bourgeois while Salomon's tenure saw the city expand further, beginning to look more like the capital of today spatially. Various governments did endeavor to improve infrastructure (often running out of funding before completion or relying on questionable concessionaires). The city's urban poor and laboring classes were actively involved in Carnival and the bourgeois homes formed elite salons or patronized theaters and high-end shops. Some degree of mixed neighborhoods could be seen in Bel-Air when petite-bourgoisie families established homes in the area or even parts of the Bord-de-Mer where families with means lived relatively close to impoverished quarters. Naturally, the seeds of the suburbanization and wealthy enclaves also developed in the 1800s, with Turgeau being one of the desirable neighborhoods of the time. 

But those on the other side of the tracks became a burgeoning problem for different neighborhoods, not just Bel-Air or Morne-a-Tuf. The capital's frequent fires, political turmoil, and the government's dependence on German or other foreign interests severely limited the ability of the state to adequately manage and restore the city after its numerous fires. These sadly meant that, as the population gradually grew, the state was usually not able to ensure urban infrastructure or services that would make the city livable. Naturally, this problem became extreme in the second half of the 20th century, but one can already detect traces of it in the 19th century. Even a Salomon who partly encouraged home ownership on the new outskirts of the city or the growth of charity, social aid, and Catholic churches, schools, and hospitals werenot adequate to meet the challenge. Not wholly explained by Corvington but very significant, the urban masses who supported the charismatic Salnave represent one eruption of proletarian or urban poor assertion. Although failing with the fall of Salnave and the return to power of the old bourgeois interests, the specter of the urban poor remained a threat to established interests. For that reason, one wishes Corvington explored more deeply the question of crime, labor (domestic servants, artisans, stevedores), and religion or spirituality of the urban poor and workers. For instance, how did Vodou shape the lives of the urban poor and neighborhood organization or politics? To what extent did the Church's new chapels and parishes in the growing city shape popular Catholic identity and practice? Their lives are partly represented in his numerous references to areas like Bel-Air, but a deeper sense of their class position and daily experienes may have helped readers to understand how inequality was exacerberated whilst benefitting the elite and political classes. 

In other words, we should probably read the subsequent volumes of the series. There Corvington would have had more sources to draw from to paint a more complete social picture of the Haitian capital. Nonetheless, this is a fine start for a basic overview of how Port-au-Prince did evolve in the 19th century. Corvington is careful with sources, often relying on newspapers from the period in question, foreigners' accounts, memoires, and using maps and photographs to display the changes over time. Perhaps engaging with oral traditions and family histories, especially among families frrm the lower-class or middle classes could have helped to fill in the gaps for much of the 19th century.

21st Century Romance

Long one of our favorites from The Night of the Purple Moon, Sun Ra's "21st Century Romance" is the confused highpoint of Western civilization. In all seriousness, this comforting piece is pensive and features some nice honking from the horn player (Gilmore?) whose brief solo adds a bit of edge to what is rather tame material by Sun Ra standards. It's one of the better outings from a rather accessible Sun RA LP with no long tracks. 

Thoughts on Manan and Early Kanem

Dierk Lange's reconstruction of a map of the Lake Chad basin based on Ibn Sa'id (from "La région du lac Tchad d’après la géographie d’Ibn Saʿīd. Textes et cartes").

Manan, the earliest known capital of Kanem, remains an enigma. Its exact location remains unknown. Nor is there much information on the nature of this settlement or town from external Arabic sources. Oral traditions in Kanem and Borno shed little light on the matter, too. Revisiting the various sources on Manan, however, suggests its antiquity predated the 10th century. Moreover, by using what we know of later capitals in Kanem and Borno, it may be possible to reconstruct some of the characteristics of Manan. Doing so emphasizes the importance of continuity over time in the annals of Kanem and Borno. Of course, various changes took place over several centuries, but distinct features of the Kanembu, Kanuri, and various peoples living near Lake Chad persisted. In addition, reconsidering Manan as a political capital also requires rethinking what we know of early Kanem and how the consolidation of Kanem under a single dynasty required the unification of many peoples inhabiting the region.

Manan and Early Kanem in Medieval Sources

Naturally, one must begin with the medieval Arabic sources. Most of them are available in the Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, edited by Levtzion and Hopkins. The first to unambiguously allude to Kanem was al-Ya’qubi in the 800s. According to him, there was a Zaghawa kingdom in Kanem. He wrote, “Their dwellings are huts made of reeds and they have no towns.”[1] It is possible that a settlement later known as Manan already existed in this century, but al-Ya’qubi did not consider it a city due to all its structures being reed huts. Intriguingly, he also described another Zaghawa group, al-HWDN, with a king from the Zaghawa. Then he mentioned an enemy kingdom called Malal, “who hate the king of Kanim.”[2] Malal, ruled by a king called MYWSY, could have been a smaller polity later absorbed into Kanem. The place name, Malal, does recall Manan and, according to one spelling, M.lan.

Besides al-Ya’qubi, the next detailed accounts of Kanem are by al-Muhallabi from the late 900s (quoted by Yaqut). This author reported that the Zaghawa had 2 towns: Manan and Tarazki, both in the first clime at latitude 21 degrees. Yet their houses were still reed huts, including the palace of the king: “Their houses are all reed huts as is also the palace of their king, whom they exalt and worship instead of Allah.”[3] This source is important as the earliest to unambiguously name a city or town of Manan in Kanem. Although the source also expresses the idea of a multiplicity of Zaghawa, it is quite clear that it is Kanem being described. Moreover, a glimpse of how the king’s authority may have been seen and what counted as wealth can be gleaned from the evidence: the king’s wealth was counted in livestock like sheep, cattle, camels and horses. The latter is especially significant due to the importance of horses in Kanem’s military power. The subjects were also said to go naked or wear skins, while the king wore silk and woolen clothes.[4] Unfortunately, there is no clear indication of where Manan was located, but the site must have had access to trade routes through the Sahara and perhaps to the east.

After al-Muhallabi, al-Idrisi wrote about Manan. To this 12^th century geographer, Manan was 12 stages from Tamalma. According to al-Idrisi, “Manan is a small town without industry of any sort and little commerce. Its people breed camels and goats.”[5] This description suggests that Manan was quite small and about 8 days travel from Anjimi (Njimi, the capital of the Islamic Sayfawa rulers). Because he utilized sources from different time periods without reconciling their inconsistencies, one must interpret al-Idrisi cautiously. For instance, he also wrote that Manan was 13 stages away from the Tajuwa “town” which may have been an example of al-Idrisi inventing a town. He also claimed that Manan was where the “governor” of the country lived, who led an army mostly consisting of naked archers. This is a fascinating piece of information, but possibly evidence that al-Idrisi uncritically repeated outdated information. The reference to naked archers also suggests the Haddad, an artisanal caste group in Kanem who were known in much later times as the only people to use the bow and arrow.[6]

Last, but certainly not least, Ibn Sa’id wrote a detailed account of Kanem that drew heavily on the lost work of Ibn Fatima. The description of Kanem is that of the period of Dunama Dibalemi (c. 1210-1248). It is also thanks to Ibn Sa’id that we know Njimi was southeast of Manan. Apparently, the earlier Kanem capital was level with the angle of the Lake (Lake Chad) at longitude 51 degrees, latitude 13 degrees. Manan was specifically said to have been the capital of the pagan ancestors of Kanem’s king (in other words, the Duguwa branch of the Sayfawa). Ibn Sa’id also specifies that to the east of Manan wandered the Zaghawa and to their north, the Akawwar (presumably Teda-Daza groups in Kawar?).[7] Basically, Manan was to the southeast of Kawar (and south of the Tibesti Mountains and Borku) while to its southeast, Njimi was closer to Bahr al-Ghazal (40 miles away from this river). When one considers the higher water levels of Lake Chad in the first millennium of our era and the fact that the Bahr al-Ghazal was consistently flooded in the period from 900-1150, agricultural settlements could have thrived in Kanem.[8] Manan, located closer to Lake Chad than Njimi, would have made sense for a capital since it was closer to the areas from which the ancestors of the Sayfawa migrated: Tibesti, Borku, Kawar. At the time, it would have been able to support farmers, herders, and enjoyed closer proximity to the trans-Saharan routes. Naturally, shifting the capital to Njimi with Islamization may have been partly motivated by a desire for better agricultural land as the population moved toward greater sedentarism.

Considering Manan and Early Kanem in Today’s Scholarship

Moving into the modern era, where did scholars believe was Manan? Borno historian Muhammad Nur Alkali postulated a possible location in the Shitati region of Kanem. Some ambiguity can be seen in his attempt to locate it along the northeastern shores of Lake Chad yet also indicating a general location in the Shitati area.[9] When this region was visited by Nachtigal in the 1870s, it was in a part of Kanem that had become largely the terrain of nomadic groups. By this era, it did not neighbor Lake Chad but included numerous valleys. In total, more than 50 valleys could be found in Shitati, which also featured a natron lake. In Nachtigal’s time, most of the people residing in Shitati were Yuroa, Orabba, and Qadawa, the latter a Kanembu group of the Dibbiri with Daza ancestry. The Dibbiri, of course, appear early on in the Diwan since the mother of the first “black” mai, Salmama, was the son of a Dibbiri woman named Hawa.[10] Besides these aforementioned groups, some Kanembu and Danoa (Haddad) farmers also resided in the area. Most importantly, Nachtigal named a place called Maten el-Milah that was no longer part of Shitati. Instead, it consisted of valleys on the path to Borku.[11] It is likely a coincidence, but Manan was sometimes rendered as Matan in written Arabic sources. In the case of this place, Nachtigal reports that it was an Arabic name (Fountain of Salt) and not an indigenous one of deeper antiquity. In other words, Shitati may have once harbored the early capital of Kanem, but there is no smoking gun to irrefutably demonstrate it. In its favor is its location northwest of Njimi and proximity to Lake Chad, which enjoyed higher water levels over 1000 years ago.

Also worthy of consideration is the theory of H.R. Palmer. Palmer, a towering figure in colonial-era scholarship on Borno, was guilty of contemporary racial theories, shoddy or questionable linguistic connections, and sometimes lacking transparency for his sources. Nonetheless, Palmer did work with local elites to gather traditions or translate various manuscripts, meaning that his work is unavoidable for any serious interest in the history of Borno. In terms of Manan and early Kanem, he even gathered traditions (which appear to contain anachronisms) of Dugu’s alleged southerly campaign.[12] As for Manan, Palmer apparently connects it to the Kulu or Kuluwan region.[13] Since Madan or Malan appears to have been the place where the early mai Fune died, this is consistent with Manan as a royal capital. Against Palmer’s theory, however, is the area of Kuluwan between Kanem and Bagirmi. This is not consistent with medieval Arabic sources placing Manan to the northwest of Njimi. It was also the area where Katur, a successor of Fune, died, according to the Diwan. Ultimately, Palmer’s attempt to link Manan or Matan with the Kuluwan region is not persuasive and contradicted by the Diwan which places Manan (or M.lan) in Kanem.[14]

Manan, Malal, and Early Kanem

Besides Palmer, John Lavers also proposed an intriguing theory for early Kanem with relevance to Manan. Based on the brief description of Kanem by 9^th century author al-Ya’qubi, Lavers has suggested that in c. 872, Kanem had “Zaghawa” rulers but also competed with neighboring “Zaghawa” polities. One of these groups was called Hawdin, and another was Malal. Since the ruler of Malal was called Mayusi or Mai Wasi, and the Zaghawa king Kakarah (according to one reconstruction), is it possible that the rulers of Malal superseded the early rulers of Kanem and became the reigning dynasts?[15] This theory is, of course, based on the assumption that the title of the ruler of Malal was mai and since that is the title used by the kings of Kanem and Borno, Malal’s rulers may have replaced another polity and became the dominant power in what became known as Kanem. Of course, the absence of sufficient evidence limits its probability though it would possibly correlate with the M.lan (or Manan) mentioned in the Diwan as the place where Funa died. Assuming, of course, that M.lan is equivalent to Manan and possibly related to Malal.

This theory is likewise interesting if one accepts Terio’s notion that the Zaghawa king of Kanem named by al-Ya’qubi was actually the title kireh, used by the Zaghawa for kings.[16] Alternatively, the rulers of Malal may have intermarried with the “Zaghawa” or so-called Duguwa in Kanem, since the Diwan presents Dugu as the father of Funa, the mai who allegedly died in M.lan. Furthermore, Zaghawa traditions remember a Zaghawa king of Kanem named Douk Bourmè, presumably the same Dugu recalled in Kanuri girgams and the Diwan.[17] Since dating these figures is a hazardous exercise, one can only tentatively assign dates. If the excessive reign lengths in the Diwan are meant to refer to generations as well as to stretch the dynasty back to Sayf b. Dhi Yazan, we cannot be sure which kings are semi-legendary or when their reigns may have taken place.

Obviously, this makes any endeavor to tie the polities mentioned by al-Ya’qubi with the tentative chronology of Lange problematic. Yet Lange has written, “Un souverain du nom de Funa semble avoir régné au milieu du VIIIe siècle, Arsu à la fin du VIIIe et Katur au milieu du IXe siècle.”[18] If one accepts this mid-700s date for Funa, who died in a place called M.lan that may be Manan, then it is difficult to reconcile with the theory that Malal in the 870s was in conflict with Kanem and ruled by their own independent king. Unless one proposes that Funa died in a war with Malal sometime in the 700s or later traditionists merely fused the two dynastic lines together after their intermarriage, it is difficult to square with Lange’s suggested chronology for these “Duguwa” kings. Nonetheless, the possible Malal kingdom or polity as a rival of Kanem under the “Zaghawa” could be a reference to a fusion of Zaghawa, Teda-Daza, and Kanembu elements that occurred over several centuries, consolidating as a single dynasty with regional supremacy in the 900s or 1000s. Malal may, if the theory has any validity, have been a smaller polity of Kanembu-affiliated people whose capital was changed into Manan.

Concluding Thoughts

Clearly, the location of Manan is a subject of debate. The early medieval sources provide only glimpses of pre-Islamic Kanem and must be used cautiously. Indeed, due to some of these authors never actually seeing Kanem themselves, their reports are not based on direct experience. Nevertheless, they provide a few clues about how early Kanem developed and a rough idea of where Manan could have been.

Subsequent scholars from the colonial and postcolonial eras offered new theories, but without any definitive evidence to pinpoint exactly where Manan was. With the recent confirmation of Njimi’s likely location at Tié, and the general idea that Manan was to the northwest of Njimi, we can more confidently assert that it was closer to Lake Chad. This makes the theory of Muhammad Nur Alkali plausible. The more speculative theory proposed by Lavers could facilitate identifying the placement of Manan, too. Of course, our interpretation of it relies on the questionable assumption that Manan, Malal, and M.lan were designating the same place in the medieval Arabic sources and the Diwan. Such a theory could elucidate why Manan has been forgotten in Kanuri tradition, too.

In spite of its obscurity, Manan’s position as the earliest known capital of Kanem makes it significant in the growing sedentarization and consolidation of a powerful kingdom to the east of Lake Chad by the 9^th and 10^th centuries. While definitive proof remains elusive, the cumulative evidence suggests that Manan was an early political center northwest of Njimi, and possibly linked to the polity of Malal that appeared in the writings of al-Ya’qubi in the 800s. With future archaeological surveys and excavations, a more confident location for Manan can be found which could meaningfully change our perception of the origins of urbanism in Kanem.

---

[1] al-Ya’qubi in Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, 21. Some possible references to the area of Kanem may predate c. 872, but the earlier Arabic authors only use the name Zaghawa. This term may have been used very broadly for many different ethnolinguistic groups living between Nubia and the central lands of Black Africa. It is possible, nonetheless, for some Zaghawa groups to have lived as far west as Kanem in the 9^th century (or earlier) and interacted with groups more closely related to the modern Teda, Daza, Bideyat and Kanembu.

[2] Ibid. John Lavers has also proposed an interesting idea about this polity, although it remains purely conjectural without additional sources.

[3] Ibid., 171. The reference to the house of the king is important, even if it was built with reed and not the monumental type of architecture Kanem and Borno developed after Islamization. The town of Tarazki is also intriguing as it bears a resemble to the later Kanem town of Daniski.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 114. Earlier, al-Muhallabi reported that livestock and horses were the wealth of Kanem’s ruler.

[6] For more information on the Haddad, see Henri Carbou, La Région du Tchad et du Ouadaï. This group has been the subject of more than a few unlikely or highly problematic theories. Lange, for instance, has proposed identifying the Haddad or Danoa with the so-called Duguwa dynasty. There is perhaps some basis in this theory due to Haddad oral traditions remembering an early ancestor called Dana and the fact that the Haddad, an Arabic name, are referred to as Duu or Dugu by the Kanembu (See Edouard Conte, Marriage Patterns, Political Change). Contrary to the theory of a Banu Duku or Duguwa origin, the Haddad are remembered in oral traditions as sharing a common descent with the Bulala or perhaps with slaves or servile populations in Kanem during the period of Bulala rule. This theory, of course, requires deeper analysis but Carbou’s traditions of origins for the Haddad seem to only go as far back in time as the Bulala period. Interestingly, Nachtigal himself focused more on the N’Galma Dukko as a group descended from an early prince of the Sayfawa dynasty, perhaps Duku or the so-called “Duguwa” branch. See Sahara and Sudan Vol. 3.

[7] Ibn Sa’id in Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History, 188-189.

[8] For information on the fluctuations in the levels of Lake Chad, see “Floods, Droughts, and Migrations: The Effects of Late Holocene Lake Level Oscillations and Climate Fluctuations on the Settlement and Political History in the Chad Basin” by Karsten Brunk and Detlef Gronenborn in Living with the Lake: Perspectives on History, Culture and Economy of Lake Chad. These authors have argued that the Bahr al-Ghazal was flooded throughout this period and the Sahel zone was semiarid and subhumid. But the Sudanic savannah lands would have been humid. Their theory that the center of early Kanem in c. 900 was the Bodele region is fascinating, but this seems too far north (and east) to help one determine Manan’s probable location.

[9] Muhammad Nur Alkali, Kanem-Borno Under the Sayfawa: A Study of the Origin, Growth and Collapse of a Dynasty, 24, 57. For yet another 20^th century scholar’s theory, see Zeltner’s Pages d’histoire du Kanem, which has suggested Manan was in the Egey region of Kanem.

[10] 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), 70.

[11] Gustav Nachtigal, Sahara and Sudan Vol. III, 65-68.

[12] See H.R. Palmer, Bornu Sahara and Sudan for several examples of similar types of stories, legends or traditions on the kings of Kanem and Borno. Included is one 1751 manuscript which traces the origin of the first Saif to Aghani, a land Palmer claims was the Zaghawa, called Aghna (Arna) by the Kanuri.

[13] H.R. Palmer, Sudanese Memoirs Vol. I, 7, 74-75.

[14] 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), 66.

[15] John Lavers, “Kanem and Borno to 1808” in  Groundwork of Nigerian History, 189.  

[16] Abdelkerim Souleyman Terio, Origine et évolution des Zaghawa: Du royaume du Kanem aux Etats modernes (VIIIe-XXIe siècle), 94.

[17] Ibid., 89.

[18] 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), 143. 

Musique Des Princes - Fête Des Tohossou (1955)

Just some enchanting music from the 1950s recorded in Dahomey. 

Hermes Trismegisto E Sua Celeste Tábua De Esmeralda

If you know, you know...

Lake Chad in the Beatus Map

Whilst perusing Jean Maley's "Histoire lac Tchad durant le dernier millénaire" online recently, we noticed that the author proposed an early map depicting Lake Chad from medieval Europe. The Beatus map follows the conventions of medieval European cartography inspired by Ptolemy, but does depict a large lake south of the Sahara (Deserta arenosa, or sandy desert?) in what would roughly be the Lake Chad region. The connection to the Nile does match the incorrect view of Islamic geographers that Lake Chad and the Nile were connected. It probably resulted from a mistaken belief that the Bahr el Ghazal and the Nile were one and the same. But is it possible this map only placed Lake Chad in its correct location through chance or error? It's clearly based on ancient maps since it still refers to the "Isle of Meroe" and does not name specific places in the Lake Chad Basin. Yet unlike Isidore of Seville, the large lake believed to be the source of the Nile is not named Nilides, nor does this match show the river turning south before rising north to Egypt. 

A Tentative Study of the Reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun (1729-1744)

         Mai Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun, who likely reigned in 1729-1744, was one of the last successful Sayfawa monarchs of the 18^th century. During the Late Sayfawa Period, the dynasty that ruled Borno gradually withered with the loss of Bilma. Even more, Wadai’s expansion into eastern Kanem, the autonomy of the Bedde, and Bagirmi’s attacks against the Kotoko states and southern Borno during the reign of mbang Muhammad al-Amin also occurred in this late 18^th century decline. Naturally, tensions between Borno and Mandara continued as well, with disastrous consequences for Borno during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama. Nonetheless, until the fall of Gazargamo in 1808, the Sayfawa remained powerful and likely possessed a spiritual stature or authority unequalled in the Central Sudan. Yet before that decline of the second half of the 18^th century, some of the last maiwa endeavored to reassert Borno’s political and economic dominance. Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun represents such a ruler, and although his reign is poorly documented, glimpses of his attempts to restore Borno’s hegemony can be found. After a brief overview of the extant sources, this article shall review Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun’s policy with regard to Hausaland, the question of relations with Mandara and Bagirmi, and an overview of domestic affairs within Borno. Undoubtedly, Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun represents one of the last assertive Sayfawa rulers, whose reign complicates narratives of 18th-century Bornoan decline and political disengagement.

Discussing the Sources

            In terms of source material, the lack of a surviving chronicle severely limits one’s efforts to reevaluate the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun. Nonetheless, an assortment of oral sources and written sources provide enough clues for a tentative overview. First, the Diwan. Essentially a list of the various rulers of the Sayfawa maiwa with brief details on their reign, the Diwan aids in establishing an approximate timeline for the Sayfawa rulers.[1] In addition, the Kano Chronicle briefly alludes to an attack on the Kano kingdom by Borno during the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun. Besides identifying the Sarkin Bornu as Ali, the chronicle’s erroneous description of the campaign is contradicted by Bornoan oral sources which establish that it was not Ali who attacked Kano in the 1730s.[2]

A third written source, a rihla copied in the mid-19^th century, presents a number of problems. The manuscript was found in the library of Shaikh Abu Bakr al-Miskin, and supposedly written by his grandfather, Muhammad b. Ali b. Dunama b. Ali b. Umar b. Idris.[3] It is supposedly a description of the hajj of Ali b. Umar. But the year given for this undertaking, 1727-8, and the description of the reign of about 15 years that followed, are more applicable for Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun. Is it possible that this source is about the hajj of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun but changed to be about Ali b. Umar due to the latter’s renown?[4]

Besides the aforementioned written sources, a number of oral sources exist. One of the most important, a Kanuri praise song translated by J.R. Patterson in Kanuri Songs, is particularly conspicuous. Given the genre and its conventions, one cannot expect a song that is necessarily historically accurate. Yet it speaks to a type of court praise singing and ethos that very much emphasized military valor and power. In addition, studies of the history of the Central Sudan based on oral sources supplement the meager textual ones. For instance, H.R. Palmer’s Sudanese Memoirs contains a short chapter on Muhammad Hajimi and the Masbarma that alludes to the Kano campaign.[5] Likewise, a girgam translated in Palmer’s Bornu Sahara and Sudan refers to Muhammad as the “lord of Lergam the Black Prince with the white mouth-veil.”[6] This supports the identification of the builder of the elite brick building at Lergam with Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun, a tradition cited by Seidensticker.[7]

Unsurprisingly, a number of 19^th century, colonial-era reports and works by 20^th century scholars drawing on oral sources for the history of Hausaland, Bagirmi and Kanem refer to relations with Borno in the first half of the 18^th century. Furthermore, M.G. Smith, Hogben and Kirk-Greene provide useful clues on Kano and Hausaland during this period while Lavers, Nachtigal, and H. Lanier’s syntheses of Bagirmi history assist in reconstructing Bagirmi’s relationship with Borno. Great caution must be used with such material, particularly as later scholars sometimes regurgitated information from colonial-era scholars who hardly cited their sources. For instance, Lavers has uncritically repeated H.R. Palmer for the theory of a Mandara campaign of Ali b. Umar during the 1650s. When one checks Palmer, however, there is no sourcing to determine where he found this information![8]

Overall, the sources for the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun are hardly adequate, but sufficient for a tentative overview. Doing so allows one insights into the nature of Sayfawa statecraft and relations in a dynamic 18^th century world. The Sayfawa maiwa were hardly the indolent sovereigns only engaged in Islamic study or ritual seclusion in this time.

Borno, Kano, and Hausaland, c. 1729-1744

            Perhaps the best documented action of the mai was his attack on Kano, which may have taken place in 1734 (it coincided with a solar eclipse). Kano had previously been the subject of a campaign during the reign of Idris b. Ali in the 16^th century. At the time, Kano’s actions of fortifying settlements near Borno’s frontier were seen as a threat. For perhaps equivalent reasons, Borno’s Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun also attacked the powerful Hausa kingdom. In this campaign, probably in the 1730s, the Kano Chronicle reports that “May Ali” came to make war on Kano during the reign of Sarkin Kano Kumbari (1731-1743). The Bornoan forces allegedly camped at Faggi for 3 nights without fighting due to the intervention of Shehu Tahiru and Shehu Bunduu.[9] Apparently, one of the mallams, Shehu Attahiru, who persuaded the mai to leave was an ancestor of the emir of Kano.[10] Unfortunately, this chronicle does not elucidate why the conflict arose in the first place, but it emphasizes the role of highly respected Islamic leaders in bringing peace.

Despite the chronicle suggesting a rather brief Bornoan siege, other sources suggest a far longer campaign. For example, tradition reported in Palmer’s Sudanese Memoirs suggests that the mai was in the Kano state for 7 months.[11] Indeed, the mai attacked but did not prevail “until the appointed time came.” If the campaign lasted at least 7 months and the mai eventually prevailed, then Borno may have been able to successfully restore its position of dominance over Kano, albeit likely only with some form of tribute or vassal status for Kano’s sarki. In terms of why the conflict arose in the first place, Lavers has proposed that Kano was attacked to prevent it from importing guns and upsetting the regional balance of power.[12] While plausible, there is no evidence for this in our surviving sources. Other scholars emphasize internal dynamics within Kano. Thus, the Gaya, whose influence in Kano affairs was great during the reign of Sarkin Kano Sharifa and Kumbari, played a role. Moreover, new towns and walls around several in the eastern domain of Kano, such as Takai, Tsokuwa, and Rano implied the closing of the frontier with ribats. The newer towns constructed in this era often followed a uniform plan, suggestive of state or official planning. They were often built in the open plain while others, at major crossroads for trade, became administrative centers for taxation and cheap labor for Sharifa and Kumbari.[13] Thus, it is possible that Borno’s intervention in Kano was due to the latter’s operations along its eastern frontier and the creation of fortified settlements. This theory is more persuasive than that of the firearms in Kano, although the two are not mutually exclusive. Consequently, Borno’s response was likely motivated by increased attempts at centralization by Kano’s rulers as well as ensuring Kano’s access to firearms did not upset the regional balance of power.

But what was accomplished by Borno’s intervention in Kano in c. 1734? According to some sources, the conflict with Kano likely reverberated across Hausaland with Bornoan intervention beyond. Although the Kano Chronicle does not report the outcome, other sources highly affirm the notion of Borno’s ruler reestablishing Kano as a vassal state (even if only symbolic).[14] The Gazetteer of Kano Province reports that the mai  had issued an ultimatum to Kano: he would burn the city unless tribute was paid.[15] Others suggest that Borno overran other parts of Hausaland at this time, too. Although corroborating evidence is lacking, Hogben and Kirk-Greene wrote of the many Kanuri links in Zaria. For instance, the office of Limamin Kona was reserved to a family of Borno origin. Other Bornoan emissaries or officials in Zaria could potentially be linked to this episode, such as the Madalla.[16] Another source, the Abuja Chronicle, dates the Beriberi (Kanuri) of Borno attacking Hausaland to 1734, with Zaria paying tribute to Borno.[17] Other evidence for this is lacking, but it is certainly possible that Borno’s actions in Kano in c. 1734 also impacted Zaria and other Hausa states, particularly in the reassertion of a claim by Borno to regional hegemony. To what extent Borno may have also used Gobir to influence events in Hausaland is unclear, but Gobir during the reign of Babari (c. 1741-69?) attacked Bornoan territory at Shirra.[18] Ultimately, a resurgence of Bornoan claims to regional supremacy and tribute may have been won from Kano and Zaria during the c. 1734 campaign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun.

Mandara, Bagirmi and the East

In addition to the Kano campaign, which appears to have been a success, Borno’s relations with Bagirmi during this time appear favorable for the former. Bagirmi was forced to submit to the authority of Borno during the reign of mbang Lahoual (or Alahouine). In the words of H. Lanier, “En 1741, attaqué par le sultan de Bornou, il fut vaincu et dut se soumettre à la souveraineté de ce pays.” [19] Although Bagirmi was able to throw off the yoke of Borno during the reign of Hadji (dated c. 1741-1784 by Lanier) and end Borno’s claims to sovereignty of the kingdom, Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun was apparently successful in Bagirmi. Likewise, the rihla mentions Bagirmi as one area where the Sayfawa mai traveled on the pilgrimage. If the problematic source is incorrectly attributing the hajj along the Sudan Road to Ali b. Umar but actually describing a pilgrimage of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun, then Bagirmi was allegedly one of the areas where the Sayfawa ruler settled 5000 captives in 1727/8.[20] This act of establishing settlements in Bagirmi could be partly motivated by a desire to facilitate travel for pilgrims using the Sudan Road in the 18^th century. Furthermore, it also served to emphasize the power of the Sayfawa ruler whose act of establishing towns or villages in other kingdoms was an assertion of Borno’s influence and power in the Central Sudan.

Naturally, the highly problematic account of the 1727/8 pilgrimage must be interpreted very carefully. But it is consistent with the actions of the Sayfawa in the first half of the 18^th century who may have successfully imposed tributary relations on Bagirmi. In fact, it may also have been during the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun that the “Kurata” or Tunjur Arabs in Kanem sent their leader to Borno for confirmation of his position. This may explain why the praise song to this mai names the Kurata among the captives of the mai.[21] The actions of the Sayfawa mai in Bagirmi are perhaps to be expected with similar developments in Kanem which may have included greater control of the Tunjur in Kanem who usually resisted the alifa at Mao.[22] In short, Borno may have succeeded in establishing firmer control of Kanem (which was to become a major battleground in the 19^th century) as well as imposed tribute on Bagirmi whilst protecting its influence over various polities south of Lake Chad.

Besides Bagirmi and the eastern shores of Lake Chad, Mandara was also another arena of conflict for Borno. The previously mentioned Rihla even claims “Ali b. Umar” (although the dates used in the document align with Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun) died in Krowrowa, which appears to be Kerawa, once a capital of Mandara. This problematic source asserts, “He raided Krowrowa and died there in Krowrowa where his grave is visited.”[23] This is contradicted by the Diwan, which indicates that Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun died in Gazargamo.[24] In spite of these contradictions and inaccuracies, the text does seem to be accurate in referring to conflict with Mandara during the first half of the 18^th century, before Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama’s disastrous campaign in the 1780s. According to Barkindo, the Islamization of Mandara in the early 1700s was supported by Borno. In fact, Dunama b. Ali (c. 1696-1715) was said to have sent Islamic scholars to Mandara. Tradition in Mora of Mandara’s conversion to Islam during the reign of Bukar Aji (who reigned c. 1715-1737) even suggests he grew up in Borno and was sent to Mandara after Borno had the previous ruler killed. Interestingly, Bukar Aji is also said to have taken the title of mai and remodelled his court on that of Borno. Tradition also asserts that Bukar Aji and his successor sent regular gifts of tribute to Borno. Even Hamdun b. Dunama reciprocated, sending a personal Quran to Bukar Aji.[25]

Yet despite Borno’s role in the ascent of Mandara’s first Muslim king, occasional conflict occurred. To Lavers, serious trouble with Mandara occurred during the reigns of al-Hajj Hamdun b. Dunama and Muhammad b. Hamdun, who both fought Mandara.[26] It would seem that Mandara’s allegiance to Borno depended on the proximity of Borno’s army. So even the spiritual authority or stature of the Sayfawa and the renown some maiwa achieved as pious figures was not sufficient to ensure the loyalty of Mandara. In this case, Mandara’s now Muslim kings were likely eager to benefit from expansion and raiding, when possible, the vulnerable tributary polities of Borno. Though it does not seem likely that Hamdun b. Dunama or Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun died in a war with Mandara, the existence of conflict between the two states points to a problem which only grew during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama. But for now, Borno was able to meet the challenge, at least based on available evidence. Moreover, the period of Aji Bukar and Madi Makiya’s reigns, c. 1715-1751, also coincided with the immigration of Bornoan settlers in Mandara. Their presence also necessitated the assertion of Sayfawa rule or authority that may have caused conflict with Mandara’s kings who saw these settlers as their subjects.[27] But, Mandara’s kings accepted Borno’s right to tax many towns in the northern part of its domains until c. 1751 and Borno continued to raid parts of Mandara despite receiving gifts and tribute from Aji Bukar and Madi Makiyya, the latter possibly the son of a Kanuri woman.[28] This level of Bornoan influence in the affairs of Mandara may have also been motivated by the interests of the Bornoan elite to expand and protect their influence in the south while the north was challenged by population movements due to prolonged drought and climate change.

Internal Dynamics in Borno

In terms of internal affairs and domestic concerns, the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun was challenged by ecological shifts, migration, and famine. Indeed, a famine that persisted for 2 years occurred during his reign.[29] The last several years of his reign coincided with a drought that lasted from 1738-1753. Due to this period of long-lasting drought, various groups such as the Jetko, Tubu, Tuareg, Koyam, and Fulani migrated to more fertile lands, thereby increasing the chances for conflict over scarce resources in difficult times.[30] Despite these challenges, Borno was still in control of Bilma. The Bedde, however, were beginning to act autonomously in the 18^th century and disrupt caravan routes.

In the face of these challenges, the Bornoan state was still able to continue past Sayfawa practices such as the sponsoring of elite brick structures. At the site of Lergam, for instance, Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun is remembered for sponsoring the construction of a brick building for what was likely a palace enclosure. According to Wilhelm Seidensticker, “The name of the founder of the palace was given as Mohammed Ajimi, who can be considered identical with Muhammad b. al-Haji Hamdun (ca. 1731-1747).”[31] Located 31 kilometers west of Geidam and on the northern banks of the Komadugu Yobe, today the site lacks any visible evidence of bricks except for a few from what was presumably the wall of the palace enclosure. Magnavita also described the site of Lergam, reporting that Lergam was also known as Kirishadam, referring to the largest refuse mound. Although the area was only an estimated 250 by 250 meters, Lergam appears to have been built by the mai as a temporary residence.[32] Like Gambaru built in the 16^th century, Lergam indicates that a Sayfawa ruler was still able to support elite architecture using brick well into the 1700s.

 Likewise, Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun also supported the creation of new towns or settlements, including Kurnawa or Dalaturi. Kurnawa, according to J.R. Patterson’s Borsari District Assessment Report, was founded by a Mandara slave named Haji Amadu. This Mandara captive of the Borno mai, Momadu Haji, was given his freedom upon his return from Mecca. Subsequently, he left Birni Gazargamo and founded Kurnawa with his followers. His descendants later ruled the town.[33] This act demonstrates the role of the Sayfawa and their captives or dependents in the administration and the creation of new settlements. The praise song to this mai also emphasizes his power to redistribute and relocate people:

You son of Aji, can collect or disperse people at your will

And turn again, and make a town (with those you have dispersed)

You are the scourge of Jillam, Dalla Darge and Dakkinam Dalla Damaram

Some towns are founded during the cold season of the year

But some of yours have been founded as the result of your victories, Aji Gana the Intriguer[34]

 

Many of these places are difficult to identify, but the implication is rather clear: the mai possessed great authority through the control of people, including the relocation of dependents or subjects to create new towns. Additionally, he was able to found towns through his military victories. Since the conventions of the praise song may lead to exaggeration, one must use this type of material very cautiously. Even though the general image of the authority of the maiwa in this period is supported by conflict with Mandara (possibly related to Bornoan settlers in parts of Mandara), the possible settlement of slaves in parts of Bagirmi and Wadai, and the creation of Kurnawa as a prosperous town.

            Finally, the domestic religious policies and political choices made by Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun were also significant. He was the first mai to invite Shaykh Tahir b. Ibrahim to Gazargamo. This shaykh later played a prominent role in Borno during the reign of Ali b. al-Hajj Dunama (r. 1747-1792). His father, Hamdun, was also remembered as a scholar in Borno tradition who had studied at al-Azhar in Cairo.[35] Hamdun was also said to have written 12 copies of the Quran and placed himself in ritual seclusion.[36] His son, whose pilgrimage to Mecca is still up for debate, may have been similarly pious but was also more likely to have engaged in military campaigns. Yet he also included respected Muslim leaders such as a Masbarma in his retinue during the c. 1734 campaign against Kano. He also listened to Kano mallams to end that conflict, again suggestive of how essential Islam was to state ideology and administrative practices of the Sayfawa court. He likely benefitted from the caliphal status of the Sayfawa whose pious sanctity was acknowledged widely, while also simultaneously endeavoring to recover or restore Borno’s economic and political hegemony.

Conclusion

Despite the paucity of written sources that directly speak to the reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun, enough material exists to reconsider this reign. Whilst the Late Sayfawa Period unquestionably included decline, it is very misleading or inaccurate to portray the last century of effective Sayfawa rule as merely one of indolent or secluded maiwa who passively responded to the changing political, economic, intellectual and ecological landscapes. Through the Kano campaign in the 1730s, interventions in Mandara and Bagirmi, the possible support for the Sudan Road for pilgrims, Borno remained a significant contender in the region. Similarly, the sponsoring of new towns and brick architecture as an expression of elite authority reveal the strength of Borno’s ruling dynasty. In other words, all was not immediately lost for the Sayfawa maiwa until the second half of the 18^th century. Undeniably, the prolonged drought and population movements from 1738-1753 and the burgeoning power of the Kel Ewey in Kawar, as well as favorable shifts in power relations that benefitted Mandara, Bagirmi, and Wadai eventually did weaken Borno’s claims to regional hegemony. Yet assertive and dynamic leaders did exist in the 18^th century. The reign of Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun, poorly documented as it is, illustrates this dynamic leadership of the Late Sayfawa Period.

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[1] Dierk Lange, whose masterful study of this source remains unsurpassed, has illustrated how it can be corroborated by a number of external and internal sources on the history of Kanem and Borno. Whether or not the form that survives is an abbreviated version of a much longer chronicle is unknown, but it at least helps in constructing a mostly accurate timeline for the political history of the Sayfawa maiwa.

[2] The Kano Chronicle is hardly free of anachronisms, inaccuracies, omissions, or additional textual problems. There is a great danger in relying too heavily on it to reconstruct the history of Kano and Hausaland, but it can also be corroborated by various external sources that are suggestive of an at least generally accurate chronology.

[3] See Behique Dunama, “A Sayfawa Hajj in c. 1728” for an early attempt at reconciling this source with the mainstream of historical sources on the Sayfawa, https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/09/a-sayfawa-hajj-in-c1728.html.

[4] This source requires much deeper textual analysis and a new translation. It may also refer to an attack on Kerawa, a capital of Mandara, that could have taken place during the reign of Ali b. Umar, Dunama b. Ali, or al-Hajj Hamdun b. Dunama. It problematically refers to the Sudan in a seemingly modern way, too.

[5] It is not always clear from where and by whom H.R. Palmer derived his information. Nonetheless, the tradition strongly supports the identification of the Sayfawa mai who attacked Kano in the 1730s or so with Muhammad b. al-Hajj Hamdun.

[6] H.R. Palmer, Bornu Sahara and Sudan, 253.

[7] Wilhelm Seidensticker, “Borno and the East: Notes and Hypotheses on the Technology of Burnt Bricks” in Nilo-Saharan. Proceedings of the First Nilo-Saharan Linguistics Colloquium, Leiden September 8–10, 242.

[8] This specific example refers to a problematic passage in H.R. Palmer’s Bornu Sahara and Sudan. In describing Ali b. Umar’s campaign against the Tuareg of Air, Palmer adds narrative elaboration in which a Kel Etti woman sought Ali b. Umar’s aid at the same time he was in the midst of a Mandara campaign. See Bornu Sahara and Sudan, 247.

[9] H.R. Palmer, “Kano Chronicle,” 90.

[10] W.F. Gowers, Gazetteer of Kano Province, 10. Without elucidating his evidence, Louis Brenner has argued that Shehu Tahir was Muhammad b. al-Tahir b. Ibrahim al-Fallati, a known Fulbe scholar in Borno. See “Three Fulbe Scholars in Borno,” 107.

[11] H.R. Palmer, Sudanese Memoirs II, 111.

[12] John Lavers, “Kanem and Borno to 1808” in Groundwork of Nigerian History, 203.

[13] Murray Last, “From Sultanate to Caliphate: Kano c. 1450-1800” in Studies in the History of Kano, 83-84.

[14] See M.G. Smith, Government in Kano, 1350-1950.

[15] W.F. Gowers, Gazetteer of Kano Province, 9.

[16] Kirk-Greene & Hogben, The Emirates of Northern Nigeria: The Emirates of Northern Nigeria: A Preliminary Survey of Their Historical Traditions, 219.

[17] Alhaji Hassan and Shuaibu Na’ibi, Abuja Chronicle, 14.

[18] Shaykh Dan Tafa, Rawdat’l-Afkaar.

[19] H. Lanier, “L’ancien royaume du Baguirmi,” Bulletin du Comité de l'Afrique française No. 10 (1925), 460-461.

[20] Omer El-Nagar, West Africa and the Muslim Pilgrimage, 397.

[21] “The Kurata Arabs in the Kanem towns are your slaves.” H.R. Palmer, Bornu Sahara and Sudan, 254.

[22] For an admittedly speculative look at this period, see Behique Dunama, “Siècles Obscurs: The Alifas of Kanem and the Tunjur in the 17th and 18th Centuries” https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2025/11/siecles-obscurs-alifas-of-kanem-and.html.

[23] Omer El-Nagar, West Africa and the Muslim Pilgrimage: An historical study with special reference to the nineteenth century, 399.

[24] Dierk Lange, Le Diwan des sultans du Kanem-Bornu : chronologie et histoire d'un royaume africain (de la fin du Xe siècle jusqu'à 1808), 82.

[25] Bawuro Barkindo, The Sultanate of Mandara to 1902: History of the Evolution, Development and Collapse of a Central Sudanese Kingdom, 132-134, 145.

[26] John Lavers, “Kanem and Borno to 1808,” 203.

[27] Bawuro Barkindo, The Sultanate of Mandara to 1902, 145.

[28] On the possible Kanuri parentage of Madi Makiya, see H.R. Palmer, Sudanese Memoirs II, 98.

[29] Dierk Lange, Le Diwan, 82.

[30] For an overview of this period and the impact of the prolonged drought, see Muhammad Nur Alkali, Kanem-Borno Under the Sayfawa: A study of Origin, Growth and Collapse of a Dynasty.

[31] Wilhelm Seidensticker, “Borno and the East: Notes and Hypotheses on the Technology of Burnt Bricks,” 242.

[32] Carlos Magnavita, “Short report of a visit to the archaeological sites of Lergam and Garu Kime, Geidam L.G.A., Yobe State of Nigeria,” Borno Museum Society Newsletter 76.

[33] J.R. Patterson, “Assessment Report on Borsari District, Bornu Emirate, Bornu Province” (1918).

[34] H.R. Palmer, Bornu Sahara and Sudan, 254.

[35] Hamidu Bobboyi, The 'Ulama of Borno: A Study of the Relations between Scholars and State under the Sayfawa, 1470-1808, 22, 29.

[36] Muhammad Nur Alkali, Kanem-Borno Under the Sayfawa: A study of Origin, Growth and Collapse of a Dynasty, 299.