Showing posts with label Caribbean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caribbean. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 6, 2026

Video: Towards an Art Historicization of Pre-Columbian Caribbean Archaeology

 

We really enjoyed this lecture by Lawrence Waldron on indigenous Caribbean art. Besides Arrom and Eugenio Fernandez Mendez, the only other author whose works we've read on "Taino" art and material culture is Ostapkowicz. We don't count Osvaldo García-Goyco's work here since his speculative attempt to link Taino art and symbolism with Mesoamerica was even less successful than Fernandez Mendez's work. Anyway, Waldron's approach here was really interesting, especially for noting continuity and change from Saladoid to Taino period ceramic arts.

Sunday, April 26, 2026

Cacique Guarionex Remembered

  El cacique Guariones
 defendió con patriotismo,
 luchando con heroísmo
aunque falleció más tarde.
Borinquen vencida es
decía con aflicción
y con desesperación;
clamó nobles traidores
no caben vuestras labores
del árbol del corazón.

The final part of a décima from Puerto Rico referring to a cacique named Guarionex and his resistance to the Spanish conquest. Unfortunately, J. Alden Mason and Aurelio M. Espinosa did not name the composer in their "Porto-Rican Folk-Lore. Décimas, Christmas Carols, Nursery Rhymes, and Other Songs."

Saturday, April 11, 2026

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

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

Sunday, April 5, 2026

Banning Enslavement of Caribs (1739)

 

Whilst randomly perusing Gallica and other sites, we came across Copie d'un ordre du roi interdisant de réduire en esclavage les Indiens Caraïbes, a royal declaration banning the enslavement of Caribs or Kalinago peoples in the French Caribbean. Dated 1739, it obviously did not completely ban or outlaw the enslavement of Kalinago and other indigenous peoples. After all, "Caribs" even appear in some of the runaway slave notices in Saint Domingue from later decades. 

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

1691 Slave Conspiracy (Leogane)

 

Whilst checking Gallica for something unrelated to Saint Domingue, we came across more digitized items from the Collection Moreau de Saint-Méry. One document, entitled De l'introduction des nègres à Saint-Domingue de leurs révoltes, de leur traitement, etc., outlines the history of black people in Hispaniola from the early Spanish period to the early 1700s French colonial era. Reading through it, we were reminded of one conspiracy to revolt and kill the white planters in the Leogane region. Jean Fouchard has written briefly about this plot in his book on Haitian marronage, but it seems to not have been extensively documented despite allegedly including a plan for at least 200 slaves to rebel. Interestingly, around the same time, slaves in the Nord were also plotting a revolt...

Monday, March 30, 2026

Marie Pierre Haoussa and Louis Baronnet fils (1792)

IC=inconnu

One document we have been thinking about the last few days is a notarized contract from 1792. Establishing a société d'habitation de Marie Pierre Haoussa avec Louis Baronnet fils, the document is interesting for the surname of Marie Pierre: Haoussa. Although most documents in colonial Haiti spell "Hausa" as Aoussa, not Haoussa, we were nonetheless curious about Marie Pierre as a person of possible Hausa extraction. After all, colonial legislation did attempt to push free people to bear African names. Furthermore, people of African origin were sometimes known by a first name and their alleged "nation," too. 

In the case of Marie Pierre Haoussa, however, we could not trace her exact origins. It would appear that she was a free black woman owning land in Aquin, presumably i an area that may be today's la Colline à Mongons. When checking the parish registry, we did come across a Marie Pierre, black Creole, who married her "mulatto" master in 1781. But there is no indication of Marie Pierre's parents' origins in the parish books for Aquin. We were also wondering why she did not use her husband's surname, but he may not have been of legitimate birth either. Either way, Gabriel and this Marie Pierre had a number of children, he married her, and, from what we could gather, the Marie Pierre Haoussa named here could be the same woman.

In terms of her 1792 partnership with a man from Bainet, we were struck by the huge diversity in slaves both brought into their planned coffee farm. Marie Pierre was responsible for bringing 6 slaves, most apparently female. They consist of a mix of Arada, Mandingue, Thiamba, Ibo, Canga and one "nation" we could not decipher in the notary's handwriting (perhaps Aguiam?). Baronnet fils, on the other hand, was responsible for bringing in more slaves who were mostly male. Since the land was apparently held by Marie Pierre Haoussa, he may have been required to supply more of the forced labor. Either way, his enslaved workers were also very diverse in origins. One, whose "nation" looks like Guialuuka, is from a background we could not figure out. But others included Thiamba, Bibi (Ibibio), Biny (possibly Edo, for people from the kingdom of Benin), Congo, Creoles, Ibos, and a Mine. 

Naturally, we will have to conduct further searches in the notarized documents and parish registry to see if we can locate more records of Marie Pierre. But, the fact that she owned land and slaves is consistent with someone who was married to a free "mulatto" landowner for some time in the region. We suspect the "Haoussa" part of her name comes from an African-born father but have to dig deeper into the archives to prove it. 

Friday, March 27, 2026

Ayiti Toma

While perusing various readings pertinent to another project, we came across references to the land of Allada as Aizönu Tome or Aida Tome. Apparently, the tome part means something like "country of" or perhaps "land of." This, of course, reminded us of the phrase Ayiti Toma in Haitian Creole. I guess it's somewhat obvious and unsurprising, but this seems to be an example of the influence of Fongbe or related languages in Benin shaping Haitian Creole. But what explains the shift in Haitian Creole pronunciation of tome to toma? Another theory, included in J.B. Romain's Africanismes haitiens quotes an implausible notion that Ayiti Toma is derived from the Toma peoples of Guinea. This seems rather unlikely since it is unclear how many Toma ended up in Saint Domingue. Moreover, one would have to ask why a name for their particular ethnic group is attached to Ayiti. A link to the Fon language makes more sense given the evidence of that language on Haitian Creole and multiple aspects of Haitian culture. 

Sunday, March 8, 2026

Cacique Enrique's 1534 Letter


Whilst perusing PARES again, we came across the 1534 letter by Cacique Enrique online. Entitled Carta del [cacique] Enrique, indio, informando sobre la agrupación en pueblos de los indios y cimarrones de la provincia de Tierra Firme por parte del gobernador Francisco de Barrionuevo. It has been translated by Lynne A. Guitar in Cultural Genesis: Relationships among Indians, Africans, and Spaniards in Rural Hispaniola. To Guitar, it was essentially a letter of capitulation by Enrique and perhaps the only known document authored by a "Taino" person. Since the letter expresses Enrique's recognition of the imperial majesty of the Spanish king and its author promises peace and calm on the island, Guitar's description of it is apt. Whether or not Cacique Enrique actually wrote this is another question. As a literate person, however, he could have dictated it and read it to ensure it expressed his perspective. As such, it is one of the few written sources by an indigenous "Taino"from their perspective. It's unfortunate that more documents have not been uncovered yet. With the education that some caciques received (both in the Caribbean and Spain), one would think more documents might exist in Sevilla or other archives...

Thursday, March 5, 2026

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. 

Tuesday, February 24, 2026

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.

Sunday, February 22, 2026

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.

Thursday, February 19, 2026

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.

Saturday, January 10, 2026

Crises et mouvements populaires en Haïti

Crises et mouvements populaires en Haïti by Michel Hector is one of those works which took us several years to read. Despite reading the chapter on Joseph Jolibois Fils several years ago, the rest of the book was something that we only finished today. Perhaps this is due to the nature of the text, mixing essays and articles written at different times by Hector. Some of the early chapters focus heavily on the contemporary crisis in Haiti from 1986-1994, yet another reason we found this one difficult to read. Hector's historical analysis of the Piquets in the Sud and the essay on Jolibois Fils are far more effective and interesting than the theoretical essays on the continuity of crises from the 19th century and first half of the 20th century with the post-Duvalier era. That said, if Hector had included additional chapters analyzing in greater detail the conjunctures of the crises of 1867-1870, 1911-1915, 1929-1930, 1946 and 1956, perhaps the book would have had greater coherence. 

Despite our issues with the structure of this work, a compilation of various articles and essays, Hector did raise a number of pertinent questions on the ephemeral nature of inter-class alliances for democratisation in Haiti. He also pointed out, using the example of Daniel Fignolé, how charismatic leaders preaching political and social change did not often support the creation of proper political parties or the types of administrative reforms that would be necessary to develop functional democratic institutions in places like Haiti. The example of Fignolé was perhaps most relevant to the crisis of the post-Duvalier years as Aristide and the Lavalas party represented an analogous situation for the 1990s. The aforementioned short-lived broader alliances or coalitions also frequently collapsed before Haiti could truly develop meaningful reforms or democratic governance. The past examples of crises in Haitian political history also showed how the dominant classes and the military were often able to end the crises through token reforms and dividing the popular movement, done so well with regard to the Piquets and Acaau in the 1840s. 

But the real "meat and potatoes" of Hector's work here is in regard to the 19th century peasant uprisings represented by Goman and the Piquets of the 1840s. Drawing on Moise, Madiou, French and British consular reports, the Haitian press, and subsequent Haitian historians like Manigat and Magloire, Hector proposes a model for understanding the Piquet movement as the first great popular uprising for a more egalitarian and democratic Haiti. However, this movement did not emerge out of nothing. Instead, the uprising led by Goman in the Sud from 1807-1820 represented a revival of the traditions of marronage against the Haitian Republic. After its neutralization, urban subaltern discontent and political conspiracies to overthrow Boyer in 1827 and 1838 reveal another dimension of popular organizing. Although the 1838 assassination attempt on Inginac failed and no peasant uprising materialized in Leogane, the humble class origins of the leaders of this plot (many were artisans and some were farmers or cultivateurs) and the promise of a future uprising to avenge them by one of the executed leaders, illustrate how the lower-classes were eager to end Boyer's unpopular, colorist regime. The inclusion of peasant rebels in the countryside near Port-au-Prince demonstrates another dimension of this, as urban and rural subalterns both expressed their disapproval of Boyer as the cost of living soared in that disastrous economic period (1830s and 1840s). But the South, where plantations were least developed in colonial Saint-Domingue and where those emancipated in the 1790s faced severe forms of exclusion in southern towns and attempts to minimize peasant freeholder agriculture, unsurprisingly witnessed the strongest manifestations of peasant rebellion. 

By the time of the Piquets and Acaau, however, peasant resistance was more organized and expressed clear political and social goals. Not just demanding a reduction in the prices for imported goods used by the popular classes and an increase in the value of exports, Acaau's movement wanted real democratic reforms, access to education for the lower classes, and acknowledged the class nature of the hegemonic group (both the "mulattoes" and noir elites). This, according to Hector, showed differences from Goman's movement through its expressed interest in public education and full inclusion within the state. To what extent that was true is perhaps debateable, but it is interesting to note Hector found an example of at least one former adherent of Goman's uprising who fully supported Acaau and the Piquets in the 1840s: César Novelet. Naturally, one must also consider the larger context of the elite liberal movement against Boyer in 1843 as well as the salomoniste opposition to the government which proceeded that of Boyer. The extended crisis of 1843-1848 included the secession of what became the Dominican Republic, fears of northern secession, and rivalries for power between the old boyerist oligarchy and proponents of Rivière-Hérard. But Hector is likely correct to emphasize the role of peasant agency in launching the movement and ensuring its autonomy from other political currents for a time.

Sadly, the Piquets suffered from the divide and conquer tactics of the Haitian political elite. Political promotions to some Piquet leaders and the isolating of Acaau from these men paved the way for them to eventually desert him and the cause they initially fought for. Moreover, the evidence suggesting Acaau limited expropriations of land and goods in the occupied territories and towns may have weakened his popular support over time. Gradually, more of the Piquet leadership was coopted, neutralized, executed or defeated, paving the way for Guerrier, Pierrot, Riché and Soulouque to defeat the popular movement. In its 3 waves, Acaau was even, for a time at least, imprisoned and removed from the Sud. Upon his return, to Nippes, he was still seen as intractable and too independent, causing the central government to eradicate him for good. But Acaau's charisma and popularity were still strong, leading to peasant unrest in the South until it was finally crushed by 1848. Lamentably, some of the leaders of the repression of the Piquets were former Piquet chefs like  Dugué Zamor. Ultimately, the movement was crushed and the rise of Soulouque to the position of emperor represented an end to the crisis, with his regime's consolidation and inclusion of a number of former Piquets. 

Although the conditions of the 1843-1848 crisis were rather distinct, one can see clearly how class, color, questions of land, and political reforms to seriously include the majority in the system were obfuscated, divided, and neutralized by the elite. The inter-class alliance evaporated rather quickly despite some liberal reformers once hosting popular gatherings on their estates with farmers. The insidious color question also shaped matters as some accepted the replacement of Boyer and Rivière-Hérard by black presidents. The divide and conquer tactics of the elite paid off very successfully, too. With the loss of his supporters and other leaders, Acaau was forced to flee for his life and later committed suicide to evade capture. While it ultimately failed, the conditions in which it emerged and the threat it posed to the Haitian authoritarian habitus presented a specter that haunted future generations of elites. One only wishes Hector had explored the religious dimension to understand the appeal of Frère Joseph in articulating the appeal of the  movement. Indeed, Hector reported that serviteurs left offerings at the site where Acaau was believed to have died, as if he became a lwa. Furthermore, exploring how the peasant and urban masses shaped the crisis of the Salnave years may have presented another opportunity to consider the urban-rural divide as a factor in the failure of the popular movements in these moments of national crisis. To be fair, a hint of that is detected in the chapter on Jolibois Fils, particularly with regard to his greater interest in supporting labor in Haiti after 1930. But considering the urban-rural dichotomy in the 19th century crises is worthy of scrutiny, too. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

Qui sont les vrais ancêtres des Haïtiens ?


We found Haiti Inter's video, "Qui sont les vrais ancêtres des Haïtiens?" to be an intriguing video exploring the African ancestry of the Haitian people. Nothing new, but still interesting. 

Saturday, January 3, 2026

European Ancestry (23andMe)


Although our interests in genealogy and DNA testing are primarily centered on African ancestry, we did find it interesting how our 23andMe results indicate a smaller French ancestry than Ancestry. Given our roots in the Spanish Caribbean, we expected most of our European ancestry to be from the Iberian Peninsula. Yet French was only 0.3% here despite our Ancestry results showing 2%. We're also assuming the Swedish and Swiss, Southwestern German and Western Austrian estimates are catching some of the Germanic or western European ancestry similar to that foud in France? The other surprise, although not really shocking for the Iberian Peninsula, was seeing our Y Chromosome Haplogroup: J-L26. 

Wednesday, December 31, 2025

Jeannis

Whilst perusing old records and files, we came across the birth record for a relative (related by marriage) from Jacmel. Born in 1920, he was the son of Letrois Jeannis, a man who appears to have been a descendant of Mérisier Jeannis (1833-1908). 

Friday, December 19, 2025

Fugitive Slaves from Turks and Caicos (Haiti)


One of the cool things in the Digital Collections of the New York Public Library is seeing evidence of the Haitian government's defense of its free soil policies in the 19th century. In this case, the president of Haiti stood by the state policy of immediately emancipating slaves from Turks & Caicos. Migration of Turks & Caicos to northern Haiti continued after emancipation in the British colonies, too. 

Thursday, December 18, 2025

Ceramic Age Caribbean Matches


As we should have done at the beginning, we finally went back and re-read the reference study (Fernandes et al.) used by 23andMe for their indigenous Caribbean references. As expected, our Matches are to Ceramic Age samples from sites in Hispaniola (mostly eastern), Puerto Rico, and Bahamas. Our historical matches fell into the following major groups based on the above study's analysis of the genomes of ancient Antillean peoples:

Haiti Ceramic: 2 matches

Bahamas Ceramic: 2 Matches

SECoast DR Ceramic: 11 Matches

Eastern Greater Antilles Ceramic: 11 matches

The overwhelming number of matches (although mostly small) are with what the study terms Southeast Coast DR groups and Eastern Greater Antilles (which includes samples from Puerto Rico and the eastern Dominican Republic). This matching pattern is to be expected given the Ceramic Age population largely replacing Archaic lineages and the pattern of close relatives from different sites on Hispaniola or genetic matches between individuals from other islands. To what extent this pattern was also due to relatively small population sizes in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico is another mystery. We have always tended to prefer somewhat higher population numbers for Puerto Rico and Hispaniola in pre-Columbian times based on Moscoso's analysis of Puerto Rico. 

We also found it cool that some of our larger matches were to the two Individuals in the Haiti Ceramic clade. These two individuals were related and harbored significant Archaic ancestry from groups on the island before the Saladoid or Arawakan expansion to the Greater Antilles (unless we are already outdated in our terminology here). We matched the two ancient Haitians from Diale for approximately the same amount of total shared cM on 2 segments. It would be interesting if part of that shared ancestry was from the earlier, Archaic population.

Monday, December 15, 2025

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.