23andme Sub-Saharan African Ancestry

Since hearing mostly positive things about 23andme's new African Genetic Groups, we decided to finally do it. Since our African ancestry is mainly inherited through our Haitian parent, our results were, unsurprisingly, similar to theirs. However, we are about 50% sub-Saharan African and all our African Genetic Group matches are distant (our parent had a very close one with the Igbo). Nonetheless, it was interesting to see how 23andme's overall regional estimates are similar to Ancestry's. We are mainly of West African ancestry with an emphasis on Nigeria (southeastern and southwestern) and Ghana, Sierra, Leone, Liberia. Since 23andme lacks a Benin and Togo region, our results are split in a slightly different way for the Bight of Benin-derived ancestry so many Haitians have. 

Moving on to the Genetic Groups, they are broadly consistent with the matching patterns we noted for ourselves and our Haitian parent on Ancestry. They are mainly consistent with Igbo and Yoruba Nigerians, Ewe, Ga and other Ga-Dangme, Sierra Leone (mainly for our Haitian parent), and Liberia. Since, again, 23andme does not yet have reference samples for more populations in Benin and Togo (and many other regions), our Ewe, Ga-Dangme peoples and Ga people matches are probably hinting at ancestors who were trafficked to the coast from this general vicinty. 

Likewise, the Yoruba people match for our Nigerian Genetic Groups is perhaps another reference to Bight of Benin-derived ancestry from populations not well-represented in 23andme's database. The Igbo people match is also hardly surprising since we shared an Igbo match with our Haitian parent for a higher than average amount of cM on Ancestry. Unfortunately, we did not receive any genetic groups for Central Africa or Senegambia and Guinea. Hopefully future updates will add more populations.

"Congo" Maroons in Haiti

 

Since captives from West Central Africa comprised a very large proportion of Africans trafficked to French Saint Domingue, we recently read through every runaway advertisement mentioning "Congos" in the colony. Some of the ads actually reveal intriguing details about the background of so-called "Congo" Africans. For instance, Jean-Pierre, named above, knew how to read and write. Was he from a literate background in Kongo or Soyo, perhaps first learning to read and write in Portuguese? The short description of him seems to imply he was literate in French.

Sometimes, "Congo" slaves were given additional descriptors. The above case, a Congo "Monbala" named Choisi, is an example. Monbala may be a reference to the Mbala people of Congo who are to the east of modern-day Kinshasa.

The Congo-Mouyaca may have been the Yaka peoples. This suggests that slaveholders in Saint Domingue did have some kind of basic understanding of the ethnic heterogeneity of so-called "Congos" on the plantations. 

Some of the "Congos" listed appear to have retained their African names. Angoulou, above, is an example of this. Someone familiar with names and the languages of Central Africa might be able to identify their origins more precisely. 

For instance, the "Congo" named Pierrot was "dit Cimba." Cimba definitely sounds like an African name, probably from a Bantu language like KiKongo. 

One of the "Congo" runaways was said to be a "Congo Binda." We wonder if Binda is actually the Mpinda of Angola. Their language is said to be closer to Kimbundu.

Lucanda was another "Congo" maroon with what appears to be an African name. Lukanda is used as a place name in Congo (DRC) and appears to be used as a name, too.

Another type of "Congo" were the "Congo-bord-la-mer." Like Crispin, we assume they were Kongolese from the area near the Atlantic coast. 

Sometimes, runaway "Congo" were given more than one additional descriptor. In the case of Jolicoeur, he was a "Congo Sondi bord de la mer". If so, he was likely from a coastal area or Kongo and of the Sundi sub-group. 

Another "Congo" named Louis was apparently "owned" by Baudry Deslozieres, a colon whose notes based on conversations with Kikongo-speakers in Saint Domingue was published in the early 19th century. Was Louis one of the unwilling captives who provided information to Baudry Deslozieres?

As for the "Congo Mondivi" group, we are unsure of their origin. The above case,a Joseph around 30 years of age, is ambiguous. There is a place called Mavivi in eastern Congo (DRC), but this seems far too unlikely to have been a source of "Congo" captives. We wonder if the "Mondivi" were the Vili people of Loango.

The "Congo-Mayombe" were one of the more frequently named Kongo sub-groups in the runaway ads. They are undoubtedly linked to the Mayombe.

A useful reminder of how ambiguous these "national" labels were is the case of Vincent. Though he was considered a "Congo" by his "owner" in Saint Domingue, he called himself Senegalese. Given the huge distance and cultural differences between people from the Senegambia and West Central Africa, one wonders if Vincent was trying to take advantage of a certain esteem for "Senegal" captives.

Again, someone with familiarity with Central African languages might have some luck determining possible ethnic origins for "Congo" captives. One of the above 3 maroons, Gazambi, appears to have an African name.

Another pattern we noticed is the frequency with which the name Pedro could be found among "Congo" Africans. We wonder if this is due to some Kongo peoples using Portuguese names in Africa or if it was simply another instance of slaveholders giving their chattel exotic or foreign names.

The "Congo-Monteque" nation most probably refers to the Teke peoples and/or the Batéké Plateau. 

Some "Congo" captives were remarkably mobile. In the above case of Jupiter, we see an example of a slave "owned" by a resident of Kingston, Jamaica yet he escaped to Saint Domingue.

Sometimes "Mayombe" was written in different ways. Thus, we can see the example of so-called "Congo Mayambe" captives in the colony.

In another case of a "Congo" bearing an African name, we can see the case of Minerve, or Pinba. Pinba sounds like the Haitian Creole word Penba, which is used for a "Sly, malicious woman."

Two additional "Congo" captives with what may be African names appear above. Kicony and Bamby are difficult to trace, although kikoni a word in the Taabwa language. 

The "franc Congo" in Saint Domingue likely came from a term used by French slave traders. According to Baudry Deslozieres, the term referred to captives purchased from the "canton of Ambriz." They were considered excellent slaves by the French.

As for the "Missi-Congo" nation, this is presumably an allusion to the Mwisi-Kongo, or MwisiKongo, another term for the Kongolese.

We suspect Mabilla, a "Congo" maroon "due bord de la mer," was from a coastal region.

Macaya is a name of Central African origin that can be found among people of "Congo" origin. It can still be found in the Congo.

As for the "Souty" nation, we assume it is perhaps a reference to the Nsundi or Sundi.

The above "Congo" named Mabiala appears to be another case of a "Congo" with an African name.

Similarly, Bajaca may be an African name for the above "Congo" maroon. 

Some "Congo" slaves spoke other Creole languages of the Caribbean. The above case of Tam illustrates this, since he understood Papiamento.

Yet another "Congo" with an African name can be seen in the case of Matta, or Magloire.

The "Mazelingua" nation could be from Zambia. In Zambia, the name Maselinga exists. 

Recognition of similarities or overlap between the "Congo" and "Mondongue" nations can be see in the case of a woman called Diane. In her own country, she was called Ougan-daga, which bears a resemblace to the surname Ogandaga in Gabon.

As for the "Mazonga-Congo" nation, Narcisse may have hailed from what is now the Pala-Masonga region of Kasai Oriental. Was he of Luba origin?

Another ambiguous "Congo" group were the Masoula. Apparently, 12 of them, labelled Congo in the colony but calling themselves Masoula, ran away. 

Another group we suspect to be of Central African origin, Massangui, were in Saint Domingue. The use of the name for a place can be found in both Congo and Cameroon.

A History of West Central Africa to 1850

John K. Thornton's A History of West Central Africa to 1850 is a difficult but occasionally intriguing read. As an update of sorts to Vansina's dated Kingdoms of the Savanna, a work we have mostly read several years ago, much of Thornton's regional history was novel or at least a good refresher. Nonetheless, the same problems persist: absence of written sources, problematic traditions collected in the colonial era in a highly politicized context, and a focus on elites or noble lineages. The absence of written sources for much of Central Africa in the precolonial era and the lack of adequate archaeological research across the region means that much of our knowledge of various polities is stuck in a speculative stage. Hints and glimpses begin with the Portuguese arrival in West Central Africa in the 15th century, but detailed accounts only emerge much later. Even for Kongo, a kingdom whose local elites embraced to at least some extent Portuguese literacy, the surviving sources are usually from and by Europeans. But due to the Portuguese contact and trade with Kongo, Ndongo and Matamba, further inland polities became gradually known. This vast interior, including the area of the Lunda empire which became a major power by the 18th century, included a very important belt of textile production, widely traded and used as currencies in Angola. Much of the problematic oral traditions are contradictory, however, especially when one can compare documented traditions recorded at different moments in the past with later traditions. For instance, this becomes clear with the expansion of Lunda, as others, including some of Imbangala origin, began to claim connections with Lunda in their founding traditions. Lastly, the oral traditions are, unsurprisingly, mostly centered on royal genealogies and barely shed light on free peasants or slaves, groups who must have comprised the majority of the population. This is useful for historians, particularly when kings remembered in tradition can be identified in Portuguese or European sources, and can help establish a chronology. Thornton's study of the region often does this to aid in constructing a timeline for various polities in the region from c.1500 to 1850.

Despite our aforementioned problems with the study of the region, Thornton's study raises a number of questions on the nature of slavery, the slave trade, and cultural exchange within West Central Africa. The slave trade, which essentially financed Portuguese Angola's existence, was often fed by captives raided and captured by the Portuguese, Luso-Africans, and African soba allies. Yet demographics suggested by censuses suggest the colony may have been similar to other polities in the region: men were sold abroad, but women retained. The large-scale forced relocation of people to concentrate wealth by elites was another commonality that allowed kings (and Luso-Africans and Portuguese Angola) to expand their power and revenue bases. The gender imbalance in the population and the central role played by slaves as sources of production (in plantations and estates) and export commodities demonstrates how the slave trade in West Central Africa both adapted and changed the region's various polities. The other ongoing issue in many polities, of centralization versus federation-styled governments played out along this dynamic, as control of people and dependents, including slaves and forcibly relocated farmers, could lead to some rulers succeeding in centralizing their administrations. In other kingdoms, however, political fragmentation followed centralization, as the cases of Kongo, Soyo and even Loango illustrate. This could have tragic consequences when many of the victims of the various civil wars in fragmented states were shipped to the Americas. Indeed, the so-called Jaga and Imbangala bands who ravaged parts of the region appear to have perfectly exploited the sociopolitical conditions of West Central Africa as militarized societies practicing infanticide, ritual cannibalism, and widespread depredations. While some, like Kasanje, eventually formed a permanent state, the militarized bands capable of spreading terror, seizing captives, and selling them to the Portuguese, with whom they occasionally formed alliances with against other African societies, suggest insecurity was rampant. When one also considers the prevalence of burdensome taxation collected by officials in centralized states, the lot of the commoners in much of the area must have been perilous. Even in areas where descendants of relocated populations had at least some guarantee of not being sold abroad, illegal enslavement and sale of people occurred in Portuguese Angola, too.

The most interesting aspect of the book is the question of trade and influences between the Atlantic and Indian Ocean coasts. Lunda, whose rise is based partly on trans-African contacts between the coast due to Portuguese interests in both Mozambique and Angola, occupies a major role in this theme. Trade in textiles, copper, European and Indian commodities and slaves must have factors of consideration for Lunda and other African polities in the center of Central Africa. The inability of Portuguese attempts to reach Ethiopia via Kongo in the past due to a misunderstanding by the Portuguese on the extent of Central Africa did not deter their interests in trade with Lunda from both coasts. How exactly, and to what extent, polities like Lunda, its Kazembe, and other polities in the region interacted with the Indian Ocean coast is another question which deserves further exploration. In fact, particularly for the East African connections of West Central Africa before the rise of Lunda. 

Civil War and Transition in Kongo

After a brief attempt of reading it 12 years ago, we finally went back and finished The Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transition 1641-1718 by John K. Thornton. A short study based on his thesis, Thornton endeavors to elucidate a process of historical change in an African polity. Since the Kongo kingdom before the 2nd half of the 17th century was a centralized, town-centered polity in which Mbanza Kongo dominated a large territory, one must understand what led it to become a fragmented, decentralized state with a village-centered economy. Thornton, differing from other scholars, does not see the Portuguese in Angola as a primary or major factor at all in this development. Instead, the origin of the process was in the ability of Nsoyo to rise to prominence as a competing (and independent mbanza) which destabilized a centralized polity based on Mbanza Kongo. 

However, in order to understand exactly what transpired in Kongo from the reign of Garcia II to 1718, one must comprehend how the Kongo state operated before the civil wars of the post-Mbwila years. Thornton's thesis relies on an understanding of Kongo society, administration, economy and religion mainly drawn written sources. The changes in Kongo oral traditions already apparent in the 18th century, and those of the 20th century, reflect changes that may mislead researchers who rely too heavily on modern ethnographies or oral traditions to reconstruct the earlier past of Kongo. So, with that perspective and drawing on textual sources, Thornton develops a model of Kongo state and society. It was a society of nobility and powerful kings based in Mbanza Kongo, with the latter appointing provincial nobility to administer provinces that yielded taxes. The nobility and ruler, however, did not control production in the villages. Instead, peasant producers retained control of production and simply paid taxes to the state (and the kitomi and nkuluntu. In the mbanza, or towns, which were really overgrown villages, the aristocracy were able to control production through the use of slave labor. By concentrating large numbers of people in the mbanza and controlling production through the exploitation of slaves (who, were more akin to European serfs), the nobility were able to accumulate much larger surpluses than what the villages could provide. 

One mbanza, the royal capital, far surpassed all others and the dream of the Kongo nobility was to find a position in the capital where access to luxury goods and control of greater surpluses was possible. With the exception of Nsoyo, no other town in Kongo rivaled the capital. The Kongo order that was perhaps at its height during the reign of Garcia II, was able to thus impose a system that brought in revenue from taxes on villages and used the royal court to appoint, remove, and circulate nobility in various provinces. The nobility wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo and Kongo kings could use this central economic role of Mbanza Kongo to reward loyal and faithful dependents. The royal household and the nobility functioned as houses, comparable to those of medieval Europe. Competition within houses for the throne or for access to the spoils of power did, inevitably, occur. But the centralizing status and nature of Kongo as the economic, social and political capital ensured that even rivals to the throne or competitors wanted to be in Mbanza Kongo instead of eking an existence in the countryside with meager surplus or despoiled peasants.

In a sense, Hilton and Thornton have similar perspectives on how the decline of Mbanza Kongo and a centralized Kongo was related to economic concerns. It was not so much the Portuguese victory in 1665 that finally caused the decline of Kongo. Instead, it was the closer, internal threat represented by Nsoyo, an autonomous province with its own economically important mbanza and access to Atlantic trade, which revealed the changes on the horizon. Soon, after 1665, various contenders, often from the Kinlanzi and Kimpanzu houses, fought for decades for control of Mbanza Kongo. The capital was sacked during these civil wars and the nobility, dispersed into the rural provinces where chances for greater amounts of surplus to expropriate wealth were minimal, became permanently based in the rural areas and relied on the Kongo peasant producers (who retained control of production). While the civil wars created conditions in which some nobles could seize captives and sell them, or loot, none of the nobles were powerful enough to permanently seize Mbanza Kongo and restore a unified kingdom. Furthermore, Nsoyo interfered throughout the civil wars of the late 17th century, promoting rival claimants to the throne but never providing enough support for them to succeed. Indeed, a reunified Kongo would actually have posed a threat to Nsoyo, which preserved much of pre-civil war Kongo administrative structure and enjoyed prosperous trade links with the Dutch, Vili and others north of the Zaire. 

In the end, Kongo survived its period of civil wars to reemerge as a fragmented state by 1718. By this date, however, the king was a far weaker figure and the provincial nobility were mostly autonomous. Christianity remained important, especially for the nobility, and indeed religion played an important role in the later years of the civil wars during the Antonian movement. According to Thornton, Dona Beatriz's movement, which was popular and helped repopulate Mbanza Kongo, also sought to have her ritually install the next Kongo king, like the kitomi. Instead of some sort of anti-colonial movement, Dona Beatriz's movement wanted to restore a united Kongo while also demonstrating the ways in which Christianity had been so adapted and incorporated into Kongo cosmology. Ultimately, the Kongo that was restored in the 18th century was to forever lose the pattern of centralized authority with kings appointing nobility to provincial posts and with a large degree of control of production in mbanza based on slave labor.

The Kingdom of Kongo

Anne Hilton's The Kingdom of Kongo offers a broad overview of the Kingdom of Kongo's rise and fall based on local adoption and adaptation of Christianity, Atlantic trade, and slavery in West Central Africa. Relying on, for the most part, written sources and some 20th century ethnographies, Hilton suggests the origins of Kongo lay in a redistributive economic system in which goods produced by distinct ecological zones of the Kongo state were exchanged. The mani kongo, or king, emerged sometime by the early 15th century as the dominant figure in this system, controlling the redistribution of local cloth, salt, nzimbu shells, and copper from beyond the borders of Kongo. The early state, however, was built on 3 distinct religious dimensions and different kinship structures, including matrilineal kanda and what later emerged as patrilineal groups based on descent from the daughters of Afonso I. 

However, the early Kongo state was relatively decentralized and the kings were eager to find new sources of legitimation. The mbumba, nkadi pmemba, and kitome dimensions were all important, but the Catholic cult and its association with the mani Kongo and aristocratic Mwissikongo aristocrats provided a religious or spiritual source of legitimacy that connected the kings with the cult of the ancestors and the sky spirits. While it is perhaps debateable to what extent this cosmovision really influenced the way Afonso I adopted Catholicism, Kongo was accepted as a Christian state by Europeans and adopted literacy, some Portuguese names, and even tried to buy or purchase European-styled ships. The kings of Kongo and the Mwissikongo supported the new religion, used literacy to enhance administration, accepted new crops from the Americas, and took advantage of the copper, slave, and nzimbu trades to expand Kongo's power in West Central Africa. Indeed, Kongo's cloth production was central to the currency and trade of the Portuguese colony of Luanda and Portuguese slave trading in the interior. 

Unfortunately for Kongo, however, Catholicism and the centralization achieved by Afonso, Diogo I and Kongo kings until the early decades of the 17th century was challenged by new developments. Sonyo, a province of Kongo, became increasingly independent and weakened Mbanza Kongo's economic importance through new trade routes with the Vili and others. Instead of the old Makoko-Mbanza and Luanda trade routes for slaves, ports like Mpinda and alternative slave routes developed that bypassed Kongo or did not rely on Kongo's cloth. In addition, Portuguese expansion of the Luanda colony and the seizure of the nzimbu-producing Kongo territory, as well as attacks on vassal states or chiefdoms of Kongo, further weakened Kongo. The Kongo kings were also not successful with establishing complete control of the Catholic Church, an institution which was central to the further legitimation of the rulers. The Portuguese refused, despite Afonso I's son serving as a bishop, allowing for an independent see of Mbanza Kongo and the clergy, prefects, and priests in Kongo were often dictated by or led by men based in Luanda. Even the Capuchins, who came to Kongo and were initially seized upon by Garcia II to strengthen his rule, eventually became more aligned with Luanda while criticizing the state of Christianity in the Kongolese provinces. Even the Dutch occupation of Luanda was a failure in the sense that Kongo did not eradicate the Portuguese presence and, in fact, was blamed for anti-Portuguese massacres. The enmity between Kongo and Luanda governors, who could also block envoys and letters from Kongo to the Pope or to Spain and Portugal, eventually led to the fateful battle of Mbwila.

The later centuries of Kongo cover its existence as a splintered or fragmented state, with autonomous provinces like Sonyo and warlods and competing lineage groups competing for the throne. Kongo Catholicism survived, even leading to a site of pilgrimage devoted to the Virgin Mary and the close relationship between Mwissikongo and the Christian cult. Kongo indigenous religion likewise continued, even experiencing a revival during the reign of Garcia II and that of his son due to Capuchin aggression Nonetheless, the Kongo of the 18th and 19th centuries was very different from the state system consolidated by Afonso I and his successors. While the Portuguese and the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade did not destroy Kongo, one can undoubtedly see how Atlantic trade was a double-edged sword that paved the way for Kongo centralization and decentralization. The main reason why Kongo, however, was not able to maintain its dominant position was related to its increasingly peripheral role in the main trade routes used for the slave trade and the decline of the mani Kongo's role in redistributing regional or international goods to his clients. The failure to establish a church under royal control further undermined the Kongo kings since one of the major ideological sources of their legitimacy was controlled by external actors not always acting in the interests of Kongo or its state. 

Merengue Sounds from West Central Africa

Lovely Congolese 'rumba' band plays a merengue. It's uncanny how similar these Congolese merengue songs were to the guitar-based merengue from the Dominican Republic, and the widespread appeal of Caribbean and Latin music in Central Africa (in addition to influences from Europe, such as Tino Rossi). I highly recommend Dr. Nico's music, African Jazz, and an Angolan band, África Ritmos, for Angolan takes on merengue. If I remember correctly, some members of Les Bantous de la Capitale ended up in the French Antilles, further complicating the waves of musical exchange that connected the Caribbean and Africa during this time. Here's one more merengue from Les Bantous, here!

Angolan Merengue

 

Who knew merengue was once popular in Angola? Because of its 'psychedelic' sounds and it is guitar-driven, Angolan merengue sounds somewhat like Congolese music or some Haitian compas of the 1970s, with very strong local rhythms (semba) invigorating the drums and ...some obvious influences of Congolese 'rumba'. Nothing short of marvelous to hear the mélange of African, Caribbean, and Latin influences in one song.



Cesaria Evora's "Angola"

The Cape Verdean barefoot diva, Cesaria Evora, sings a song by a presumably Angolan composer. As a Cape Verdean, there is likely some kinship with Angola as fellow former Portuguese colonies in Africa, and the Cape Verdean Creole language is itself a mixture of African languages and Portuguese, perhaps another contribution to feelings of kinship between the two Lusophone nations. Interestingly, the Portuguese influence in "Angola," the name for the country deriving from ngola, a title for the rulers of one Bantu-speaking group in modern-day Angola, is self-evident from the "Moorish" or North African influence in the piano vamp and guitar lines. Cape Verde and Angola, as former Portuguese colonies, likely incorporated aspects of Portuguese and Iberian music generally through centuries of colonialism and cultural contact in Africa that is predated by centuries of contact between North African Arabs, Berbers and others with local Iberian populations in Europe. Thus, the cultural heritage of "Angola" and that of Cape Verde extends back to Moorish-ruled Iberia, the development of Iberian musical forms such as the flamenco and North African/Middle-Eastern-tinged and centuries of West and Central African polyrhythms, vocal styles, and instruments fusing with Iberian instruments and styles. Like the music of Latin America, Cape Verdean morna and other genres reflects this cultural mestizaje and the shared influences would almost make one think "Angola" is from Brazil or the Caribbean. Nevertheless, the stellar combination of African and European influences led to a beautiful child of new, intriguing music with infectious rhythms and Iberian guitar and melodies, African polyrhythms and inflections through the Creole language. Here and this is a live version. Check Angelique Kidjo's interesting live interpretation here for a lively rendition. "Angola, Angola!"

Ess vida sabe qu'nhôs ta vivê
Parodia dia e note manché
Sem maca ma cu sabura
Angola angola
Oi qu'povo sabe
Ami nhos ca ta matá-me
'M bem cu hora pa'me ba nha caminho
Ess convivência dess nhôs vivência
Paciência dum consequência
Resistência dum estravagância