The Arada and the Bight of Benin...

The runaway Hippolyte appears to have been of Fon or Savalou extraction. As the region of "Savarou" was conquered by the Fon of Dahomey, perhaps Hippolyte's family came to the region during or after said conquest. 

Here we have a maroon of the Fond, or Fond, nation. His name, Ouata, is presumably a personal name used in Dahomey at this time (18th century). 

Another Fon, named Chofy, could be an instance of another Fon personal name from Dahomey.

A Barbare, or Bariba, named Huffo (Husso) could be an example of a Bariba personal name.

An Arada runaway named Boffou, or Bossou, a name that survives in Benin and in Haitian tradition. 

The case of the maroon Cesar, a Fon, is intriguing for its references to "Arada marks" on his face. If so, this is another example of how ambiguous or problematic the French colonial/slavery archive can be for determining origins. What does it mean for a Fon to have "Arada" marks?

Marguerite's case is mainly interesting for the reference to the Arada marks. She also was said to have spoken many languages, including French.

Another Arada Marguerite was said to have been raised in France.

The Arada, Agua, may have an African name.

Some "Arada" captives also spoke Portuguese. The unnamed maroon in the case above, spoke a little Portuguese. 

One "Arada" named Marie-Anne, was known as Guiaclain among the blacks. Was this her African name in Benin or Togo?

One runaway "Arada" was even named Dahomet, or Dahomey. Was he actually from the kingdom of Dahomey?

Sometimes the "Arada" could be mistaken for another "nation." Like the Taquoua, a group we believed to have been the Nupe. 

We also wonder about Couchy, an "Arada" fugitive. Couchy could be from the Ga language, where a king named Ayi Kushi is remembered.

The above case of Dahomet is interesting since he appears to have been of the Soso, or Susu, nation. If accurate, then the name Dahomet might have been applied to African captives in Saint Domingue who had no connection to Dahomey or the Bight of Benin. 

A Dahomet, or Dahomey, runaway was named Dossou. Dossou, a name remembered in Haitian tradition, is used for a child born after twins. 

Another runaway of the Dahomey nation was named Marionne. 

More on the Nago (Yoruba) and Haiti

Milo Rigaud's La tradition voudoo et le voudoo haitien includes this beautiful veve for Ogou Batala.

The Yoruba legacy in Haiti survives in some rather influential ways. For instance, Haitian Rara music appears to be at least partly influenced by the Yoruba. According to J.B. Romain's Africanismes haïtiens, the word rara is likely derived from Yoruba. Although it is culturally a fusion of different elements, the use of a name derived from the Yoruba language attests to the presence of Yoruba speakers among the enslaved. In addition, the "Nago" are remembered and some of their orishas are honored in Haitian Vodou tradition. In fact, some Haitians still used the name Nago as a family name well into the 19th century. This important legacy suggests the Nago were remembered in Haitian tradition for far more than facial scarification on their cheeks or a penchant for stealing, as Malenfant described them in the 18th century. 

Milo Marcelin's Mythologie Vodou includes many examples of songs alluding to the Nago spirits. 

In Milo Marcelin's Mythologie Vodou (Rite Arada), numerous allusions to the Nago and Nago-derived lwa can be found. The Nago orishas are often subsumed in the category of Ogou (Ogun to the Yoruba), in various manifestations or forms. Thus, some, like Ogou Chango, are clearly a reference to Shango. Others, like Ogou Olicha, appears to be an allusion to a lwa whose name includes the word orisha. Considering the military leadership and skill needed for Haitian independence to materialize, one can imagine Ogou was a major lwa for many in Haiti.

Hector Hyppolite's Ogoun Chango.

Additional Ogous whose names refer to the Nago are Ogou Feraille, Batala (Obatala), Ogou Badagri, Olisha, and Ossange. Badagri, whose very name refers to the slave trade port of Badagry, is hardly a surprise as a Nago divinity. Batala is undoubtedly derived from Obatala of Yoruba tradition, while Ossange, a healer, is Osanyin. Unsurprisingly, the Nago appear to be associated with war, military prowess, and iron in Haitian tradition. Such a reputation can be seen in the role of Nago war leaders during the Haitian Revolution, such as Halaou and Gracia Lafortune. Yet Marcelin also reported that the Nago lwa Ogou Badagri was the father of the Haitian "mulatto." We are not sure if this association with "mulattoes" may be an allusion to mixed-race generals and military leaders during the Haitian Revolution. 

Estimating the "Nago" Captives Brought to Saint Domingue

One very rough method of estimating the possible Yoruba imports in Saint-Domingue is to combine estimates and data from Manning, Geggus, and other sources. Manning, whose study of the slave trade in Dahomey was a major source used by us for another group, has provided us some rough estimates for the ethnic origin of Slave Coast exports in the period from 1641-1870. Using his estimates for the period 1641-1800, we calculated that about 10.35% of the total exports were of Yoruba captives. If one applies this estimate of 10.35% to David Geggus's data on Bight of Benin imports in Saint-Domingue, one reaches the figure of around 16327 "Nago" captives. Intriguingly, Geggus's own dataset of 13,334 slaves from 1721-1797 included 1580 Nago captives. That makes them about 11.85% of the slave population in that particular dataset. But applying that percentage to the total estimated slave imports would wield an unreasonably high number,  about 71,077. 

When checking the Slave Voyages site on the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, one finds different numbers. For the period from 1709-1792, the data gives us a total of 185,248 captives brought to Saint Domingue from the Bight of Benin. If one uses Manning's data for a general estimate of 10.35%, then perhaps 19173 Yoruba were brought to the colony of Saint Domingue in the 18th century. This is higher than our earlier estimate of 16327 but still plausible. It also seems likely that in the later decades of the 18th century, the Nago presence among the African-born population was proportionally greater or more conspicuous. Nonetheless, it is likely that the numbers of Nago captives brought to the colony were perhaps anywhere from 16327 to 19173. Using the latter high, one might suggest the "Nago" were nearly 3.2% of the total imported into the island on French ships. The number was likely higher since smuggled captives were not considered and the data isn't as reliable as it should be. 

Estimating the Nupe, Hausa, Bariba in Saint Domingue

Another activity we have engaged in is an attempt at tracking runaway slaves and maroons identified in the colonial newspaper, Affiches américaines, already collected in the excellent Le marronage dans le monde atlantique project. We focused on the Nupe, Hausa and Bariba populations as groups who, living to the north of the Oyo state, were probably the bulk of the captives from the "Central Sudan" who were sold into slavery in Saint-Domingue. Unfortunately, we could not include the Fulani or Poulard in our calculations, since it is impossible to determine how many of the Fulani in Saint-Domingue reached the Caribbean from the Bight of Benin. However, it is likely that at least some of the Fulani or "Poulards" in Saint Domingue arrived from the north of Oyo, too. 

In addition, we also included the "Malais" or "Malez" and "Bernon" captives who appear in the runaway notices. The latter group, hailing from Borno, to the northeast of Oyo, were "infinitely rare" in the colony of Saint Domingue. Nonetheless, a few did reach the hell of colonial Haiti, likely via the Bight of Benin. The former group, however, present more difficulties. According to early 18th century sources such as the journal of the Chevalier des Marchais, "Malais" traders had already been traveling to Ouidah by 1704. His sometimes vague understanding of their origins suggests they were Muslim traders from a distant land northeast of Allada, possibly Hausaland or Borno. Since they allegedly followed certain Islamic dietary restrictions, used the Arabic language, wore robes of blue or white, and favored long beards, we are guessing the "Malais" traders hailed from Hausaland or a nearby region. The captives they sold on the Slave Coast, however, were probably from neighboring groups and other nearby regions, which means the "Malais" captives in Saint Domingue were likely some northern group. Alternatively, the "Malais" could also have been Muslim Yoruba, but that seems less likely for the 18th century. 

Overall, we found about 134 unambiguous cases of slaves from areas north of Oyo who engaged in marronage in Saint-Domingue during the years 1766-1790. While the total population of Bariba, Hausa, Nupe, Borno, and "Malais" captives imported in the colony is unknown, we believe Geggus's data on slave ethnicities in the period 1727-1797 may be illustrative of general patterns. In his survey, which is not meant to be a complete total for the various nations, he calculated 532 Nupe, Bariba and Hausa in Saint-Domingue. This number, 532, is out of a total sample of 13,334 slaves, suggesting Nupe, Hausa and Bariba represented nearly 4% of the enslaved population. Naturally, we need further data, particularly in light of evidence for the early appearance of Bariba and Nupe captives in Saint Domingue in the 1710s and 1730s, and, perhaps, Hausa before the 1760s. But, if we use 4% as a very rough estimate for the number of captives from the lands north of Oyo, perhaps 4% of total slave population on the eve of the Haitian Revolution were from the "Central Sudan" and nearby regions north of Oyo. This would give astronomically high figures, but suggest around 20,000 captives were possibly from that aforementioned region, over half Hausa. 

Another possible approach, though still highly flawed, is to use rough estimates for total population of a "nation" by using the general rate of marronage. If, as Eddins indicates, 12,857 individual slave runaways appeared in the colonial newspaper, one could divide that by a rough estimate for the total slave population in 1789 or 1790. Alternatively, one could take that rough rate of marronage and apply it to the total period of colonial rule, dividing it by the estimated 800,000 captives brought to Saint-Domingue. Of course, one would have to take into consideration slave mortality rates and total imports for the period from 1766-1790, which we lack sufficient sources and data to do. Some slaves may have also appeared more frequently as maroons based on their occupation and other factors, too, which can skew results. Consequently, the estimates are likely too high or too low in some cases. Nonetheless, it is probably a more accurate estimate than our attempt to use the numbers from Geggus's survey covering the years 1727-1797. Using the marronage escape rate, calculated by dividing 12,857 by a rough estimate of a total of 500,000 slaves in 1790/91, then about 2.57% of all slaves could be runaways. If, say, the Hausa runaways, which we enumerated to be 83 (possibly 84) individuals from 1766-1790, is our base, then we can estimate a total Hausa population based on the rough estimate that 2.57% of Hausas imported were maroons. Of course, it could have been higher or lower depending on specific conditions that shape the chances of marronage, but if we assume that 83 Hausas were 2.57% of the total Hausa population imported into the colony, based on the rough figure of 500,000 slaves in 1790, then about 3230 Hausas were imported into the colony. If one uses the figure of 800,000 as a rough estimate for total slave imports in Saint Domingue, and assume the Hausa proportion of the maroons (12,857) was comparable or adequate for the entire colonial era, then we would use the maroon rate of 1.607% (calculated by dividing 12857 by 800,000). The Hausa proportion would then increase to 5165, of which it is very likely high mortality rates significantly reduced. Applying this to our total sample of "Central Sudan" captives, 134, would bring us to an estimate ranging from 5211 to 8338. Again, high mortality rates would have reduced the number of survivors. 

Overall, assuming these captives arrived on French slave ships, they would represent about 3.4% to 5.4% of African captives purchased from the Bight of Benin in Saint-Domingue (based on Geggus's figures in "The French Slave Trade: An Overview." Those figures are actually plausible. Moreover, these lower figures seem more likely based on the data. If, we were to assume 4% of the captives of Saint Domingue were Nupe, Hausa, and Bariba, based on Geggus's survey of slave nations and gender ratios from 1727-1797, then their totals could have ranged from perhaps as many as 19,949 to 31,918. That would significantly boost their proportion in the "Bight of Benin" captives in Saint-Domingue, from about 13% to nearly 21%, a figure that seems far too high.

Of course, high mortality rates and the lack of adequate early data makes all of this very speculative. Our method requires one to assume the proportion of, say, Hausa slaves, in the maroon population was proportional to the total slave population's share of Hausa. Yet slaveholders held certain stereotypes about which "nations" were best for specific occupations, and additional factors such as location, type of plantation and urban versus rural must have shaped actual rates of marronage (at least, those reported in the press). So, the aforementioned estimates are only useful as very broad ranges that might provide a general idea. But it is interesting to note, nonetheless, that the "Hausa" significantly outnumbered other groups in Geggus's survey data from the areas north of Oyo. The Taqua or Tapa (Nupe) came second at 161, while there were only 84 Bariba. The Hausa appear more frequently as runaways, too, representing nearly 62% of the reported maroons from this region. It is possible that their higher rate of marronage was both due to a more distorted sex ratio as well as their higher numbers. If this is the case, then the Hausa may not have significantly outnumbered the Nupe and Bariba as our data seems to suggest. 

Nupe in Saint Domingue

The Nupe, known in Saint Domingue as Tapa or Taqua, the former derived from a Yoruba appellation for them, also had a presence there before the 1770s. The above example, from the corpus of runaway notices on this excellent site, indicates that by 1766, an enslaved Nupe (or Atapa) man, Jupiter, had run away. This early appearance of the Nupe coincides with the appearance of a Gambery (Gambary) maroon the same year. While we need to find evidence of Nupe and Hausa in Saint Domingue from earlier plantation records and sales, this does suggest that people from areas north of Oyo were being sold along the Slave Coast. In small numbers, yes, and still referred to by the label known via Yoruba-speakers, but illustrative of how the slave trading network of Oyo intersected with both the Atlantic and the northern regions. Oyo, in exchange for horses, slaves and other goods, was an intermediary the Nupe and Hausa to the north would have engaged with for access to European goods from the coast (although European products were also crossing the Sahara via the trans-Saharan trade routes). 

What is particularly interesting about the Nupe in Saint-Domingue is the mention of "Nago-Taqua" captives in 1773 and 1778 in the runaway slave ads posted in Affiches américaines. Bringing to mind the pattern in 19th century Cuba where Lucumi-Jausa, Lucumi-Tapa and other combinations appear in the archive, this almost certainly reflects the centuries-long interactions between Nupe and Yoruba groups. It could also reflect, perhaps, a Nupe person who had been enslaved in Oyo for some length of time before being sold on the coast. It makes one wonder if some of the people categorized as being of the "Nago" nation in Saint Domingue may have been of Nupe, Bariba or Hausa origins.