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. 

Les Gaulois (2025)

Although of less importance in our research on the making of the Haitian people, we do find the flawed but attempted breakdown of France and western Europe intriguing in Ancestry's 2025 Fall Update. Our own "French" ancestry, estimated at 2% in the previous update, was broken apart into two separate categories: Brittany, France and Acadia (French Canada). We also saw Quebec in our updated results, but since it is attributed to our Hispanic parent's side, we find it more likely to be a result of the update's horrible results for people with roots in the Iberian Peninsula. 

In other words, our "France" results are basically the same. Acadia is basically "France" but Ancestry, to its credit, did not assign any French Canada regions to our Haitian parent. Our ""Northern Wales and North West England" also hails from our Haitian parent, probably a misreading of the minor French ancestry in Haitians. 

Intriguingly, for our Haitian parent, their British region was Southern Wales. If, however, 23andme is accurate, which certainly seems to be the case compared to Ancestry, our Haitian parent's European ancestry leans more heavily toward France and Belgium, the southern Dutch, and Rhinelanders. Since there is undoubtedly genetic overlap between peoples in France and Belgium as well as France and Germany, our guess is our Haitian side's European ancestry is probably derived from people from northern France who had some genetic overlap with these neighboring regions.

From our own "genealogical research" into Saint Domingue's free people of color in Bainet, we the French ancestry was mainly from the northern regions of France. This seems supported by 23andme assigning only small amounts of Spanish and Basque ancestry to our Haitian parent. Ancestry, on the other hand, assigns a mostly Spain ancestry for our Haitian parent's European admixture. Undoubtedly, 23andme is more reliable here, particularly for distinguishing between France and Spain. However, the "Brittany, France" region might be significant in that both of us inherited this region, perhaps pointing to northwestern France as the region from which the European ancestors of Bainet's free people of color often hailed from. We assume our Haitian parent's 0.2% Irish ancestry according to 23andme as well as their Southern Wales estimate via Ancestry is pinpointing to northwestern France, too. 

Officer Landeroin

Whilst perusing old issues of La Dépêche coloniale illustrée on Gallica, we came across an article on Tchad that included a photograph of Moïse Landeroin, the interpreter of the Tilho Mission. His role was very important for the historical section of their report, Documents scientifiques de la Mission Tilho, 1906-1909. As an interpreter, one must carefully excavate his process and how his recording of traditions reflected both colonial authority and the interests of local elites. It would be a worthy endeavor to revisit his work and methodology and compare with the research methods of British and German colonial officers and administrators in the region.

Unveiling the Colonial System

Although it took us several years, we have finally completed Baron de Vastey's The Colonial System Unveiled. Translated into English by Chris Bongie, whose useful endnotes and supplementary essays are a rich source of information on the author and his time, the short text is a disturbing read. Largely consisting of a catalogue of various colonists who tortured black slaves and free people of color in the colonial period, the colonial system here is one defined by slavery, exploitation, terror, and racialized hierarchy. Thus, the infamous Caradeux and Desdunes families, for instance, are listed among the colonist perpetrators of unspeakable violence and horror. The first part of the short work outlines the history of European colonialism in Hispaniola, beginning with the exploitation and destruction of the indigenous population. This, followed by the colonial system defined by chattel slavery, contain the annals of colonialism's destructive impact. Throughout the text, the Baron de Vastey drew from the colonial archive, writings by French colonists, and testimony from Haitians to illustrate the true nature of colonial rule. Unsurprisingly, Haitian independence was just, necessary, and Henri Christophe himself is praised for being the required father of the Haitian "family" to guide us toward liberty and the rule of law. 

Indeed, much of the work emphasizes how colonial laws and regulations were either ignored or used in discriminatory fashions. For example, laws and regulations limiting the dress of free people of color or laws requiring them to adopt African surnames are part of the panoply of oppressive, racist laws that are unquestionably unjust. Other laws, such as those enshrined in the Code Noir for protecting enslaved people from extreme abuse or torture, were routinely ignored. Baron de Vastey even cited the case of a free "mulatto" who was reenslaved unjustly on the instigation of a cruel planter who may have been his father! Everything this colonial system stood for and represented, therefore, required full repudiation and justified Haitian independence. Under the protective leadership of a strong monarch, Henri Christophe, Haiti could withstand the calumny and threat of the colonists. Indeed, Christophe is even compared to the famous cacique, Enriquillo, suggestive of Christophe's stature as a leader on the path to reconstituting the Haitian people. 

Nevertheless, one cannot help but notice some of the ambivalence of the Haitian intellectual of the 19th century. While condemning colonialism in Haiti and the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, our author wanted European colonialism in Africa. With Sierra Leone as perhaps the best example, Baron de Vastey appears to condone the "civilizing mission" of European colonialism as necessary in Africa. Yet, whilst drawing on the travels of Mungo Park and other sources, he acknowledged that sub-Saharan Africans were not as "barbaric" as our enemies made them out to be. Unfortunately, Baron de Vastey never drew from the testimony of the sizable African-born population in Haiti itself to counter racist narratives of Africa. It is a shame, since he even included "Bembara" as one of the African surnames free people of color were forced to adopt under racist colonial legislation. We suspect the ambivalence of the 19th century Haitian intellectual on Africa, plus the need for a nationalist, palingenesis of a new Haitian people, precluded Baron de Vastey from seriously interrogating European colonialism in Africa or the question of black African civilizations. 

Non-African Ancestry in Bainet

In terms of non-African ancestry, 23andme results were mostly consistent with the other major company's estimates. Instead of 11% European, our close relative is now closer to 10%. The distribution of ancestry between Northwestern Europe and Southern Europe is split, which is probably due to the problems of capturing French ancestry through genetic analysis. So, 23andme only assigned this relative 3.4% French & German and 3% Spanish & Portuguese. One suspects that this is a sign that the mostly France-derived European ancestry came from both northern and southern France. Although it is possible this person does have distant ancestry from Spain as well, we could not prove it yet. What was more surprising for us was to see trace ancestry derived from Askenazi Jews (0.2%). However, this is not too shocking when one recalls that Jews or people of Jewish origin were in Saint-Domingue and 19th century Haiti.

For Indigenous Americas ancestry, 23andme estimated a higher trace amount than Ancestry. Ancestry DNA assigned her a trace ancestry at 0.26% Indigenous Bolivia & Peru. 23andme, however, assigned her 0.5% (which appears at all confidence levels) without any specific region or area of Indigenous Americas. We suspect that our Haitian side does harbor trace "Amerindian" ancestry that may be a mix of South American-derived groups and/or others. While some would love to see this as proof of partial "Taino" heritage in Haitians, it is difficult to say given that our relative did not receive any score like Indigenous Dominican or any significant overlap with Dominicans or other Caribbean populations with indigenous Caribbean Ancestry.

The most surprising find of our relative's trace ancestry as a 0.1% Malayali Subgroup estimate. This also appeared in every confidence level, although we are not sure how reliable such a low estimate can be. While there were small numbers of Asian Indians trafficked to Saint Domingue by the French (something that can occasionally still be seen in Dominicans from the Southwest and Haitians in the South on some consumer DNA tests, see here), the amount is so small and difficult to find. Furthermore, South Asian DNA estimates do not appear at all in this relative's estimates from Ancestry DNA. We suspect it is one of the following scenarios: statistical noise, possible ancestry from an Asian Indian brought to Saint Domingue in the 1700s, or perhaps something inherited through a European ancestor that did harbor small amounts of South Asian ancestry. 

Gender & Class in Inca and Spanish Peru

Famous painting depicting St. Ignatius of Loyola's nephew and his wife from the Inca nobility, Beatriz Ñusta

Irene Silverblatt's Moon, Sun, and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial Peru is a provocative analysis of gender and class in Peru under two different imperial systems. The first, that of the Incas, drew from Andean traditions and kinship structures while "genderizing" class. The second, the more brutal Spanish colonial imposition, brought more destructive changes that included private land tenure and Christianity with a Judaeo-Christian patriarchal religious and social structure. Silverblatt's study, using chronicles, archival sources and the literature produced by Catholic missionaries and priests eager to extirpate idolatry in Peru, chronicles this development across time from Incan into colonial Peru. 

The early chapters establish the importance of gender parallels in kinship/ayllu structures, gender parallels in religion and increasingly, how the expansion of the Inca Empire promoted its own supremacy through kinship that was both gendered and class-based (yet used the discourse of kinship to mask exploitation). In its pre-imperial Inca phase, Andean gender parallelism was based on complementary principles, with gendered roles for men and women that included inheritance on female lines as well as a role for women as political and religious leaders. Inca imperial expansion, however, drew on the conquest hierarchies of ayllus as well as a gendered discourse that made conqueror ayllus or lineages "male" and the subjugated "female." The Incas, or Lords of Cuzco, drew on this plus their control of women as acllas to buttress their imperial ideology. 

In other words, that the Incas were able to expand their cult of the Sun and take women and girls from conquered provinces to later redistribute as wives (as a favor of the Inca) or as religious/ritual specialists in Inca imperial religion as part of their imperial ideology and class system. Through the control of the Cuzco elite of women's sexuality (by demanding virgin acllas or the privilege of the Inca to give them as wives to relatives, subordinates and vassals) and labor, class was heavily gendered. However, in spite of the gendered dimensions of Inca imperial ideology and expansion, women exhibited power in a number of ways. As mentioned previously, they could exert authority as religious leaders and political leaders at a local level. The Inca Queen, too, possessed power of her own that complemented that of the male Inca ruler. Nonetheless, the Inca imperial structure favored males as conquerors and their subjects as "conquered women" in the empire. This gendered dimensions is also clear due to the fact that Inca elites and favored subjects could possess multiple wives but the Inca Queen and female nobility were still restricted to a single husband. 

The chapters on women under colonial rule are a bit more interesting, although one wonders if relying too heavily on Guaman Poma may slightly distort the conditions in the colony. This is not to dispute the generally correct view of Guaman Poma of colonialism's negative impact on indigenous peoples in Peru, but rather to call to attention the class position of indigenous chroniclers like Guaman Poma who also profited from or exploited the conditions created by the Spanish conquest to enrich themselves. Either way, we can assume peasant women and poor Indian women were exploited in every way to a degree inconceivable in Incan or pre-Columbian times. As detailed by Silverblatt, this included forced labor, rape, taxation/tribute burdens, accusations of witchcraft, and the loss of political rights to own or bequeath land or exercise political leadership. Indigenous women of the elite, of course, were less disadvantaged by Spanish rule yet still faced drastic changes that limited their autonomy. This is expanded upon in subsequent chapters on witchcraft and Andean pre-Christian religion. Throughout the book, Silverblatt had already made reference to the role of women in religion and spirituality and how that position was undermined or came under attack from the Spanish colonial system and Church. 

The voluminous corpus of written sources on the attempt by the Jesuits to eradicate indigenous religions in the Andes, however, provides another perspective on the experience of indigenous women under colonial rule, however. One learns that women who fled to the puna to avoid the Church and/or Spaniards, for instance, played a key role in the survival of indigenous beliefs and culture since they were less "corrupted" than Indian men who were more likely to serve as curacas or be incorporated into the colonial administration as intermediaries. Women likewise resisted colonial rule and the Church through continued ritual practices that were outlawed or persecuted by the Church. Many women also continued to take their surnames from their mothers or bequeath land to female children, even if forced to act via male "tutors" the colonial regime expected. There is even a remarkable episode of women continuing Andean practices of confession that incorporated the quipu! Undoubtedly, much of the survival of indigenous religion, worldview and culture in the Andes can be attributed to the role of peasant women who upheld pre-Hispanic values and traditions against the utter destruction wrought by the Spanish conquest and colonial system.

Nos Ancetres les Gaulois?

Although we are mainly interested in the African and Amerindian components in the making of Caribbean peoples, we probably should reflect on European ancestry, too. After all, it undeniably shaped the Caribbean and the making of who we are. However, in our case, the vast majority of our European ancestry is from the Iberian peninsula, Spain and Portugal. This is no surprise for the Spanish Caribbean.. 

Where things get funky and problematic, however, is France. The update assigned us 2% France. The previous estimates did not include France at all, but rather a variety of Northwestern Europe and Sardinia, mainly inherited through our Haitian parent. We suspect Sardinia, which did not appear in her ethnicity estimate at all, may be misread France, just as Scotland, Wales, and England & Northwestern Europe were probably France. The 2024 update seems to have tried to be more accurate with delineating France from other parts of western Europe, with partial success. However, given what we know of our Haitian parent's ancestry, her minor European ancestry is mainly from France. Her original estimates recognized that to a certain degree by assigning her 5% France and then a mix of Northwestern and southwestern European locales (Portugal, Scotland, Wales, England). Strangely, in her 2024 update, our mother's European ancestry was mostly reclassified as Spain, and supposedly 2% of our Spain estimate derived from her. Now, she has only 1% France and I have 2%, which is obviously unlikely since the inheritance feature indicates our France estimate comes from her. How can I have 2% France from her 1%? We suspect the 2% Spain inherited from her and the 1% Sardinia score is also probably from France. 

Needless to say, the update was clunky and inaccurate in some ways, still struggling to distinguish France from other parts of Northwestern and Mediterranean Europe. Spain, in the case of my mother, was vastly exaggerated. Nonetheless, the update at least recognized France in the new estimates for myself. Can we still repeat our bad joke? Nos ancêtres les Gaulois can still be claimed? Bad jokes aside, we are still mainly interested in the African and indigenous background to Caribbean peoples and will continue to focus on such themes. 

Pedro de Espinosa

While perusing an article by Burset Flores on the pattern of men marrying local women from established families to become wealthy in colonial Puerto Rico, we dug a little deeper into the origins of one woman involved in such a marriage. According to his research, this woman, Juana Manso de Espinosa, was a descendant (granddaughter) of Pedro de Espinosa, a regidor of San Juan and son of an early poblador of the island, Juan de Espinosa. Juan de Espinosa was apparently the recipient of an encomienda of 50 Indios (30, according to Esteban Mira Caballos) in 1511, supposedly from the territory of the cacique Azmia. Pedro de Espinosa, his son, also led one of the raids on the territory of the cacique Orocoviz in 1513, according to Moscoso's Caciques, aldeas y población taína de Boriquén (Puerto Rico), 1492-1582. By 1530, according to the "census" of de Lando (which enumerated vecinos, slaves, and "free" Indians in San Juan and San German), Pedro de Espinosa had 6 Indian slaves (non-native) and 17 naborias. While the census of 1530 was hardly an adequate tally of the total population of the island, it is clear that Pedro de Espinosa, who may have inherited the encomienda Indians of his father, had less than half of the total Indians his father supposedly received in 1511 from Ponce de Leon. 

The demographic collapse of the indigenous population was likely following similar trends already evident in Hispaniola by 1514. One also cannot avoid acknowledging the huge imbalance in gender ratios among the population on the island, with Julio Damiani Cósimi's Estratificación social, esclavos y naborías en el Puerto Rico minero del siglo XVI. La información de Francisco Manuel de Lando. Ensayo de cuantificación y transcripción paleográfica finding disproportionately male slaves in San Juan and San German for both Amerindian and Africans. Presumably, since the Spanish were used to slavery and concubinage even before the conquests in the Antilles, many of the vecinos and other white men had indigenous and African women as partners. Indeed, some vecinos were even married to indigenous women (although not to the same extent as the 1514 Albuquerque Repartimiento of Hispaniola revealed). Julio Damiani Cósimi's transcription of the "census" indicates this gender imbalance and how Puerto Rico was already a slave society by 1530. It was this disturbing basis of wealth and power that paved the way for a soldier named Francisco Delgado to marry into money and status in the second half of the 16th century.

Xaragua's End..

Section of an early map of the island of Haiti

Although they are limited, it is always interesting to read additional sources that mention the end of Anacaona and the Xaragua cacicazgo. In this case, coming across an account from a 1536 will by Diego Mendez, who was present during the massacres orchestrated by Ovando, is useful. While his brief account of this egregious episode in the annals of history did not go into the grisly details, Mendez stated that 84 caciques and Anacaona were killed by the Spaniards. Diego Mendez's testimony may be somewhat limited since he returned to Hispaniola from Jamaica while the Xaragua "campaign" had already started. Moreover, he wrote it several years after the events described therein, so perhaps his numbers are a little off or inaccurate. However, it was interesting to note that he remembered Anacaona as "sovereign mistress" of the island.

Another early mention of Xaragua can be found in a letter by Dominican friars to Fray Pedro Simon de Cordoba, written in 1516 or so. According to this letter, Xaragua was considered by the Indians of the island to be the principal chiefdom due to its great and many caciques, ample food, and beautiful women. In addition, they wrote a version of Ovando's actions which suggest some interesting parts not mentioned in other sources. For instance, they wrote that the Indians of Xaragua were indeed speaking of killing Ovando. Furthermore, when he trapped several caciques inside a caney or large bohio before having them burned to death (supposedly 60, according to the letter), Ovando supposedly wore guanin that he said was meant as a gift to Anacaona. Was this sign of gift-giving or exchange with Anacaona, an example of Spaniards participating in a system of reciprocity and exchange based on indigenous value systems? Either way, it was part of Ovando's plan, which eventually succeeded and led to a slaughter of several caciques. Those who survived or fled were enslaved, including on Guarocuya, a nephew of Anacaona who was later killed in the Bahoruco area. Perhaps Don Enrique or Enriquillo, the later indigenous rebel, was named after or related to this earlier Guarocuya? 

While the letter by the friars is sympathetic to the people of Xaragua, it is also somewhat condescending, alluding to them as easily deceived. What seems more likely is that there may have indeed been some sort of plot or conspiracy to free Xaragua from the Spanish threat, but it was still in its initial stages. Perhaps Anacaona was waiting for a better time or opportune moment to start it, but Ovando decided that quick, decisive and treacherous actions could neutralize the threat right away, although Oviedo wrote that it took 6 months to pacify the western part of the island, finally ending in February of 1504. It even brought in captives or slaves, like the later campaign against Higuey. Indeed, it ensured direct Spanish control over most of what is now Haiti and the establishment of the encomienda system and Spanish towns. Presumably, the captives taken in these campaigns were more easily transferred to the mining areas or Santo Domingo while others fled to Cuba.

Notes on French Culture in Haiti

Although not exactly the type of Haitian ethnological studies we usually read, we devoured J.B. Romain's Notes sur la culture française en Haiti. A short study based on a conference talk by the author in 1973, Romain outlines the areas of French cultural influence in Haiti. This, of course, is most evident in intellectual and literary culture, since Haiti, according to Romain's estimate, only had 200,000 Francophones. However, evidence of French influence is unsurprisingly ubiquitous in a former French colony whose official language includes French and a Creole with a French lexifier. Nonetheless, French influence in folk medicine, popular beliefs, song, politics, and other areas of Haitian life are evident. Haitian literary and intellectual currents undoubtedly evince this, since French literary models were an influence on Haitian arts and letters since the colonial period. How, exactly, to bring together the Francophone Haitian town and the Creole countryside of peasants, however, is not addressed here. Still, an interesting exploration of the French factor from J.B. Romain. 

Early Spanish Caribbean Society

Although we are mainly interested in the past of the indigenous populations of the Greater Antilles and their legacy, Altman's Life and Society in the Early Spanish Caribbean: The Greater Antilles, 1493–1550 is an interesting read on early Caribbean colonial society. True, due to the sources it is more detailed for the white or European population rather than the Africans and Indians who outnumbered them. But, the colonial society was not a replica of the Iberian peninsula. It was also profoundly shaped by the indigenous cultures, labor, and knowledge. Thus, in covering those pivotal first 50 years or so of Spanish conquest and colonization, Altman urges us to rethink many of our assumptions. For instance, the Spanish Caribbean did experience a decline in gold production and it obviously lost much of its population (decimation of indigenous communities plus Spanish migration to the mainland colonies of New Spain or Peru). However, sugarcane, hatos, the development of new towns, and large rural populations led to more stable colonial economies. Moreover, indigenous populations did not completely disappear. 

As suggested by other scholars, acculturation and evangelization of local Indian populations appears to have been rather weak for the first half of the 16th century. For example, areitos and other traditions and customs persisted well into the colonial era. Local Indian customs and traditions were even adopted by others, such as the botanical and pharmacological knowledge of the Taino. It is possible Taino fishing practices and knowledge were also adopted by others in the society. The influx of Indian and African slaves also left a demographic impact that shaped colonial society dynamics in profound ways. Indians from other parts of the circum-Caribbean region and Africans led to the consolidation of chattel slavery in the New World while establishing consistent foci of resistance through maroon communities and rebellions. Furthermore, much of the socioracial order established throughout Latin America was first implemented or developed in Hispaniola and the other Antillean colonies. Even though each island was different, with perhaps Jamaica not receiving as much attention as the rest, the general conclusion seems to be that the Latin American political and economic order was first developed in the Caribbean. And the Caribbean remained central to Spanish empire and expansion long after the conquest of central Mexico and Peru. 

What was most interesting to us is also the utility of this study for understanding this colonial world through the biographical segments or sections. Certain villainous or fascinating characters emerged out of the unique conditions of conquest. Through timing, luck, personal connections, participation in conquest or pacification, and service as a royal official, a number of people enriched themselves or even experienced a degree of upward mobility. Some, as in the case of Isabel de Maraver, daughter of a converso named Juan Guillén, experienced poverty, loss, and accommodation in a new, nominally Spanish society. Our interest in Juan Guillén was originally genealogical, as the research of Burset Flores suggests one of his daughters ended up in Puerto Rico as the wife of a Pedro de Espinosa. Through Eufrasia, there must be a huge number of Puerto Ricans who are descendants of Juan Guillén, not to mention descendants in the Dominican Republic from his descendants in Hispaniola. 

If Burset Flores was indeed correct in identifying the parents of Eufrasia Maraver, then she was a sister of the impoverished widow Isabel de Malaver described in the sixth chapter of Altman's book. Why did Eufrasia not do anything to assist her aged father, Juan, and other relatives living in an impoverished, mixed-race household in Hispaniola (one that included black female slaves, mestizas, and an old Indian female servant)? It seems that the family came too late to Hispaniola, missing out on the 1514 Repartimiento. However, Eufrasia married well with Pedro de Espinosa, a slaveholderw who also possessed "free" Indians. Even if he was the same man who fought with a son-in-law of Ponce de Leon, he was a regidor and person of some status in Puerto Rico. Considering the close proximity between the two colonies and the fact that many of settlers in Puerto Rico came from Hispaniola, one is a little surprised that Eufrasia and her husband appear to have done nothing to assist their less fortunate relatives. 

Everything You Need to Know About Puerto Rico

Although we are mainly interested in the history of Puerto Rico before US colonialism, Jorge Duany's Puerto Rico: What Everyone Needs to Know is a good overview of 5 centuries of historical development and cultural transformation. The two are, obviously, closely linked and the format of this introductory book is conducive to finding information quickly and easily. Duany also contextualizes it within the context of the current debt crisis of Puerto Rico and what we consider the checkered or perhaps failed legacy of the Commonwealth status. Clearly, Puerto Rico today and for much of its recent history has demonstrated that the "postcolonial colony" is a failed model for Caribbean "development." The persistence of colonial features in the current status of the island and the heavy reliance on federal transfers of funds is perhaps to be expected from the the outset of the PDP's model for cultural nationalism with limited sovereignty. In its defense, all of the Caribbean is defined by dependency and heavily shaped by migration, but Puerto Rico's case is a disturbing example of recurring colonial exploitation. Haiti tried to look to Puerto Rico's model, like several other countries, but without the benefits of US citizenship for its population or massive federal funds. In retrospect, it is somewhat shocking so many looked to Puerto Rico as an exemplary case of development when the entire project came to rely on outmigration to the continental US and what should have struck many as an unsustainable model. 

Another Victoire

There is another possible contender for Victoire Gory. In addition to Marie Victoire Gory, Marie Victoire Pitiot, and Victoire Susanne Monteise, there was a fille naturelle baptized in 1778 whose father was possibly an unnamed Gory. This woman was the goddaughter of Victoire Susanne Monteise, which leads one to suspect that the father of the child might have been a relative of hers. We have not identified the father yet, but I suspect this Victoire's father was from the same area of Bainet and probably related to Victoire Suzanne Monteise. Perhaps a cousin or uncle of hers? We assume the mother, a Beaubrun Dupuy with a Barreau maternal background, was close to the neighboring Gory and related to several of them (including Victoire Susanne Monteise). However, it is not entirely clear who the mother was. There was a Marie Beaubrun Dupuy baptized in 1766, but that seems a little too young for her to have given birth to a child in 1778. The best candidate is Marie Francoise Beaubrun Dupuy, her older sister, who was baptized in 1761. We are not sure why the priest recorded the name as Marie Magdelaine but a similar mistake was made with Victoire Susanne Monteise's name. 

If Anne Marie Joseph Gaury's mother was a Barreau, that also explains why the sister of Jean Baptiste Marillac was her godmother, since she was the widow of Dominique Barreau. The main problem is if if the Marie Victoire who died in Grand-Goave in 1783 was actually the same person as Marie Victoire Sanite. We would need more clues, but it is noteworthy that this Marie Victoire had a mother named Marie Magdelaine. Was it the same woman as Marie Magdelaine Beaubrun dit Dupuy? All things considered, this Marie Victoire with an unknown (but possibly Gory father) should be considered as a possible candidate for Anne Marie Joseph's mother. It would also be possible that she and Joseph Guillaume Deslande, a Gory on his mother's side, were the young parents of Anne Marie Joseph Gory. After all, Anne Marie Joseph's death certificate indicates an estimated age for her parents that was only 10 years higher than that for herself. That would suggest her parents were likely teenagers when she was born, which would suggest Marie Victoire Sanite and Joseph Guillaume Deslande were the probable culprits. 

Alexis Saugrain's Martinique and Saint Christophe Origins

Saugrain and Faste were the parents of Alexis, Charles, and their brother, Francois. ANOM's Leogane records are priceless for trying to track down some of the later Bainet and Jacmel residents.

So it turns out that Alexis Saugrain, born in c.1696, in Saint-Domingue, was actually the son of parents from Martinique and Saint-Christophe. According to the 1694 Leogane parish register, Alexis's parents were married in that year. His father, whose parents were from Caux and Rouen, was probably born in Martinique or perhaps his family moved there relatively soon after his birth. It is interesting to note that the mother of Francois Saugrain was named Marguerite Tremonie in Martinique, but Tresorier in Saint-Domingue. Her name also changed to Magdelaine in Saint-Domingue, perhaps through errors of the parish priests in Leogane and Jacmel? Francois Saugrain was illiterate and couldn't have corrected them. Perhaps Marguerite Tremonie is the most likely candidate for his mother's name.

Thanks to ANOM, we know that a sister of Francois Saugrain died in Case-Pilote in 1727, around 80 years old. If accurate, she was probably born in the late 1740s or early 1750s. Another source, Personnes et familles à la Martinique au XVIIe siècle: d'après recensements et terrier nominatifs includes a roll or census from1680, suggests Jeanne Sogrin (Saugrin) was born in 1655.

From what I could gather from Martinique rolls, censuses and other documents, one of Francois's sisters was born in or around 1655. One document from 1671 also mentions the Saugrin, indicating they were definitely established in the Case-Pilote area of Martinique by 1671. I cannot tell if Francois Saugrain's sisters were born on the island, but I suspect he was. Like the Marin who married the first Marillac in Jacmel, Francois Saugrain appears to have been another example of a Martinique Creole who relocated to Saint Domingue. And like other early French colonists in the Antilles, the Saugrain were from Normandie. We wonder if their descendants in Martinique know that they have black Haitian cousins through Alexis Saugrain and Suzanne?

In 1682, a cousin of Alexis Saugrain was baptized in Martinique.

In addition to Martinique, Alexis Saugrain could also claim origins in Saint-Christophe, the other old French colony in the Caribbean. His mother, Barbe Faste, was a native of that island who, like many others, ended up in Saint Domingue in the late 1600s. I could not find any trace of her mother, Jeanne Gourdel, unfortunately. Her father, Guillaume Faste, may have been the Guillaume Foster listed in a 1671 census shared by the good people of Généalogie et Histoire de la Caraïbe. This is just a theory, but Faste and Foster could sound similar to a Francophone person. Besides, there was no other Guillaume with a surname similar to Faste. Perhaps the Foster surname is an indication of English origin, unsurprising in Saint-Christophe. At least we have a better idea of the origins of Alexis Saugrain in terms of the longer history of French colonialism and slavery in the Antilles. It is a long, sordid history and insidious legacy which still affects Haiti, Martinique, and Saint Kitts.

An English Guillaume Fostre or Foster appears in the 1671 Census of Saint-Christophe, also available on FamilySearch. This was probably the father of Barbe Faste, although he seems to have been married to a woman named Gidienne, not Jeanne.

Drouillac Hunting

Our current theory assumes this Françoise Drouillac, who passed away in 1761 in Leogane, was the mother of Marie Françoise Paponet, who married Joseph Gory in 1771.

As part of our quest to trace the origins of the forebears of Anne Marie Joseph Gory in our tentative family tree, we decided to attempt to tackle the issue of the Drouillac. According to our theory, Anne Marie Joseph's father was the grandson of a Paponet who married Joseph Gory. Her mother, a Drouillac of Leogane, appears to have died in 1761 and was presumably born in the early 1720s or late 1710s. Paponet had a son from a previous relationship who married Agathe Gory. The product of that union, a Joseph baptized in 1776, seems like the best candidate for Anne Marie Joseph's father. Even if we are wrong, at least we are further establishing the familial network of the Bainet Gory in 18th century Saint-Domingue.

The 1771 marriage entry for Joseph Gory and Paponet appears to indicate that Françoise Drouillac was deceased, which supports the idea she was the Drouillac who died in 1761. 

So, who were the Drouillac? Another round of searching Leogane entries of baptisms, marriages and deaths via ANOM's site helped to partly address the question. We found a few individuals who were likely siblings of Françoise, including a Pierre, Ignace, and François. Although I am not sure all had the same mother, they appear to share a Gilles Drouillac as their father. Assuming they were all born in the 1710s and 1720s, we assume Gilles Drouillac was probably born in the late 17th century and was a "mulatto" scion of a Drouillac and a black woman we could not locate. 

Ignace Douillac, who died in 1744, was the son of a Gilles and a woman named Marie Therese. We assume Ignace was a sibling of our Françoise.

What helped make things easier is the number of children Pierre and François had. The baptismal entry for the daughter of the latter, Rose Victoire, actually named Gilles Dujacq (Gilles Drouillac) as the godfather. Interestingly, François was named as a free black, perhaps because he was a dark-skinned grif son of a "mulatto" and a "black" woman? Elsewhere we have noticed the shifting color or racial terms used to describe the population of Saint-Domingue, so we assume the parish priests just recorded what they thought as more accurate "racial" category for nonwhites (or, in some cases, chose to omit any mention of their racial origin). 

We also have established by 1752, Gilles Drouillac resided in Grand-Goave. Assuming Marie Therese was the mother of all (or most) of his children, including Françoise Drouillac, we can probably infer that she was a "griffe" born sometime in the early 1720s or late 1710s. She actually appeared as the godmother to the child of Pierre  in 1743. So we know at least a few things about her origins and her parentage. The Drouillac were still around in the late colonial era in Grand-Goave, too. A Marcel Drouillac, son of a later Gilles Drouillac married in 1794. We assume his father was the Gilles baptized in 1756, a son of Pierre Drouillac. 

A daughter of Pierre Douillac (Drouillac) and Marie Rose was baptized in 1743. Her godmother was Françoise and the child actually bore the same name as Françoise's daughter.

The harder, more time-consuming task that remains is to search for Gilles and Marie Therese early on in Leogane. Who knows, perhaps that could contain a reference to an African-born person or lead to a revelation about other possible Drouillac-Gory connections. We just wish Drouillac had a consistent spelling so we don't have to search for Douillac, Douliac, Dujac, Dujacq, and Drouillac. Alas, we still have to identify the Paponet father of Marie Françoise and the father of her son. That would require a trip to Grand Anse and a more thorough search of the voluminous Leogane parish register.

Korea Under Japanese Rule

Randomly encountering this video from the 1930s on Korea under Japanese rule brought back memories of Primitive Selves: Koreana in the Japanese Colonial Gaze, 1910–1945 by Atkins. We highly recommend it for a look at the way colonialism and culture interacted in the context of Japanese occupation of Korea. It brings to mind a similar book on Haiti and the US during the US Occupation of Haiti from 1915-1934 by Renda. Of course, the US policymakers, marines, and anthropologists did not see themselves as sharing a "racial" origin with Haitians, but a shared discourse of primitivism shaped both colonial ventures. We suspect Haiti also played a role in sparking the racial interests of white America and the West in "black" peoples during the interwar years, like the Japanese interest in Korean culture, shamanism, and superstition.

Tentative Timeline for the Colonial French Caribbean

A preliminary work started for another project but something we hope to continue, like our "Tentative Timeline for Kanem-Borno" on this site. We plan to add additional events and dates for Saint-Domingue (Haiti), Guadeloupe, Martinique, and other French colonial possessions in the Antilles but we have been too distracted by our Kanem-Borno and African historical "research" lately.

-1500s-1540s: French often plundered Spanish treasure fleets (according to Gad Heuman)

-1523: Jean Fleury, French corsair, sacked Spanish fleet carrying part of Aztec treasure

-1530-1570: French pirates were main scourge of Spanish possessions

-1559: Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis (Spain and France)

-1620s: Early French occupation of western Hispaniola in 1620s

-1620s-1667: frontier era in French Antilles, tobacco was first cash crop and remained important in Saint Domingue until 1690s, boucaniers and piracy in Tortuga, western Hispaniola

-1624-1625: English and French share Saint-Christophe (Saint Kitts), the French settlement led by Pierre Belain d’Esnambuc in 1625

-1626: Cardinal Richelieu invested in plans to colonize Saint Christophe (St. Kitts)

-1635: French colonization of Martinique, Guadeloupe (but French colonization proceeded at slow pace due to significant Carib population) and some of the smaller islands of the eastern Caribbean; also the year the Compagnie des Isles de l’Amerique was founded to consolidate French interests in Caribbean

-1640: Before 1640, French colonies relied on engages (indentured laborers who usually worked 3 year contracts), then increasingly depended on slave labor

-1642 Regulation of Compagnie des Indies declared all Indians of French islands equals of whites

-c. 1650: matelotage partnerships of newly freed servants common in Saint Domingue by mid-1600s, engaging in hunting cattle, processing hides, curing meat, and trade at Tortuga

-1650-1660: French Caribbean around 19% black in 1650, but grew to 36% by 1660; important role of Dutch and Jewish settlers from Brazil in sparking commercial sugarcane production in French Caribbean in 1650s (and Barbados, English colony)

-1654-1659/1660: French wars with the Caribs in the Lesser Antilles, lasting five years

1658: Caribs slaughtered French colonists at Marie Galante

-1660: Settlement reached between French and Caribs, restricting Caribs to St. Vincent and Dominica

-1664: Formation of Compagnie des Indes Occidentales, supported by Colbert

-1665-1675: Bertrand d’Ogeron governor of Tortue (Tortuga) for most of this period, promoting settlement and development of Saint Domingue

-1666: Alexandre Olivier Exquemelin joined French Compagnie des Indes Occidentales, sailing to Tortuga

-1667-1720: Colonial Conflicts and Economic Transition in French Antilles

-1669-1670: French Company of the West Indies opens slave trade with Allada and the “Slave Coast”; Mateo Lopes, ambassador of Allada king received at the court of Louis XIV

-1670-1700: enslaved Africans in Martinique grew in numbers from 7,000 in 1670 to 15,000 while the entire French Antilles had around 30,000 slaves by 1700

-1670s: French missionaries and fur traders at Fort St. Louis (Peoria, Illinois) and later other spots on Illinois River, Mississippi River, Missouri River

-1670-1672: troubles of period in Saint Domingue due to French attempts to halt contact between Dutch traders and French colonists in the Caribbean

-1670: Foundation of Cap Francais (modern Cap-Haitien)

-1671: French Lesser Antilles has population of just under 30,000

-1672-1678: French and Dutch wars in Indies

-1680: Troubles in Cap Francais following collapse of French market for colonial tobacco and enforcement of Senegal Company’s slave trade monopoly

-1680s-1690s: French privateering important for bringing slaves to Caribbean colonies

-1685: first sugarcane plantation in French Saint Domingue; also, Louis XIV revoked Edict of Nantes, leading to some migration of Huguenots to Caribbean and North American mainland

-First sovereign council of Saint Domingue established at Petit Goave by the marquis de Seignelay

1690: French raid Spanish colony of Santo Domingo

1690s: slaves carried to French colonies by privateers in late 1600s pivotal for rise of sugar production in Saint Domingue

1691: Spanish attack Cap-Francais

-1694: St. Domingue raid on Jamaica brings 1600-2000 slaves to Saint Domingue

-1695: Anglo-Spanish attack on Saint Domingue; French evacuate Sainte-Croix largely due to governor of St. Domingue, Du Casse; most of the 460 whites, 712 slaves, 52 free colored ended up in northern Saint Domingue

-1697: Treaty of Ryswick, ceding western Hispaniola to France (officially recognized by Spain)

-1698: planters and slaves from St. Croix displaced en masse to French Saint Domingue; Compagnie de Saint-Domingue (financial/military arm of French government) formed to promote sugar; foundation of Saint-Domingue Company, founded by DuCasse and financiers Bernard, Crozat, Mayon, Thome (to promote settlement of southern Saint Domingue)

-1701-1713: War of Spanish Succession

-1703: 1,369 people, including 409 whites and 908 slaves, lived in South of Saint Domingue

-1704: Andre Deslandes, former director of French East India and Asiento Companies, arrived to be first ordonnateur and established  a Superior Council at Cap-Francais the next year

-1706-1730: large number of Indian slaves , especially Panis or Pawnee in Missouri Valley

-1710: Recall of Governor Choiseul-Beaupre from Saint Domingue

1713: By this year, Saint Domingue’s population surpassed Martinique

1713-1735: French conflict with Fox Indians, Fox attack French allies in Illinois Country and French do not finally defeat the Fox until 1735

1715-1744: Years of Peace for French Antilles

1715: French Saint Domingue had a population of 7,000 white colonists, 30,000 slaves

1715-1717: Spanish pirates captured or pillaged 20 French ships along coast of Saint Domingue

1717-1723: temporarily successful rebellions of planters in Martinique and Saint Domingue against royal authority/colonial authority (the French king appointed colonial governors and officials; intendants were in charge of civil/judicial affairs

1720-1790: Plantations, slavery, Revolutions (French, Haitian, Guadeloupe)

1720: Revocation of Saint Domingue Company’s privileges

1720s: increase in coffee plantations after 1720

1726: French near Natchez villages tied to tobacco-growing concessions, 2 large grants for tobacco made in 1726

1729: 28 Nov 1729 Natchez warriors killed 237 French, captured nearly 300 slaves and 50 white women and children

1730-1731: Natchez defeated, some 500 sold into slavery (an unknown number sold in Saint Domingue, where their chief Grand-Soleil also went)

1756-1763: British successfully attack Guadeloupe and Martinique, bringing in more slaves

1758: Mackandal conspiracy in Saint Domingue

1788: Lejeune case of Saint Domingue slaves who unsuccessfully sued their master for his torture and murder 

1791: August 1791 beginning of slave uprising in the north of Saint Domingue 

Sources 

Gibson, Carrie. Empire's Crossroads: A History of the Caribbean From Columbus to the Present Day. London: Macmillan, 2014.

Heuman, Gad J. The Caribbean: A Brief History. Second edition. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014.

Palmié, Stephan, and Francisco A. (Francisco Antonio) Scarano (editors). The Caribbean: A History of the Region and Its Peoples. Chicago ; London: The University of Chicago Press, 2011.

Pritchard, James S. In Search of Empire: The French in the Americas, 1670-1730. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004.

Borno's Borders

Although Hiribarren's A History of Borno: Trans-Saharan African Empire to Failing Nigerian State was not what we expected, it was an engaging analysis of how the territoriality and spatiality of 19th century Borno was adopted, recycled, adapted, and maintained by Rabih and the subsequent European colonial powers who "scrambled" for the Lake Chad Region (Britain, Germany, and France). The colonial and postcolonial borders of Borno, despite deviating from the actual borders of the 19th century state, were nonetheless the basis for how the British, Germans, and French carved up the region and, in the case of British Borno, implemented indirect rule through the institutions of the al-Kanemi Shehu government that they restored. Intriguingly, Hiribarren proposes some theories for why Borno played an important role in Nigeria's borders and internal states, possibly due to the Kanuri being an ethnic minority and having a recognized ancient history that could both be factors supporting the Nigerian state. 

However, the most interesting chapter is actually the fifth, which contextualizes the production of knowledge in colonial Borno through the essays and publications of British officials  and their local informants/collaborators. Due to the paucity of sources on the indigenous co-producers of knowledge, the chapter is speculative yet undoubtedly illustrates how colonial rule in Borno was aided and abetted by historical and anthropological knowledge on the Kanuri people and the sense in which Borno, as an ancient state in the region, could be appropriated by the British who saw themselves as the next great empire in the region. Our dear friend Palmer emerges here, and he clearly benefited professionally or politically from his outdated research on Borno's past through promotions up the ranks of colonial administration. 

What would be interesting for a fuller picture of colonial/colonialist historians of Borno and their reliance on local informants is a look at French scholars in Chad or Niger who also collected oral sources and data on Kanem-Borno's long history. We're thinking of Yves Urvoy for the most part, but a look at how Kanuri, Kanembu and other groups in today's Chad and Niger were also shaping Urvoy or other French scholarship on Kanem-Borno would be interesting for ways in which they too created a feedback loop or were in turn used for political legitimizing. From reading Yves Urvoy, one gets the impression that the French colonial-era scholars were also influenced by the legacy of ancient Rome, medieval Europe, and the ubiquitous Hamitic Hypothesis.

Borno in the Rabih Years

Although our primary area of interest in Kanem-Borno lies in the Sayfawa dynasty, one cannot ignore the tumultuous late 19th century in Borno history. The Sudanese military leader Rabih was able to conquer a weakened Borno under Shehu Hashimi and pave the way for European colonial conquest of the region, thereby depriving Borno of a possible third dynasty and dividing the region into spheres of British, French, and German imperialism. Kyari Mohammad's Borno in the Rabih years, 1893-1901: The Rise and Crash of a Predatory State remains an important study of the conquest and short-lived state established by Rabih. 

The reign of Shehu Umar and his successors proved to be an unstable era in Borno. The al-Kanemi dynasty proved itself unable to adapt or bridge the gap between the aristocracy and the rest of the population. Divisions within the ruling class, excessive tax burdens on the peasantry, and unpopular leaders who were easily defeated by Rabih's disciplined, modern forces reveal how weak Borno was by the end of the 1800s. This decline and economic downtown was inherited by Rabih's brutal conquest, with its negative demographic impact, scorched earth tactics, and repressive measures. Rabih's "military dictatorship" further weakened the economy, agriculture, trans-Saharan and regional trade, and almost appears to have been doomed to fail. That the Shehus were unable to mount a real resistance and were only restored by European colonial support exhibits how weak and ineffective the al-Kanemi dynasty had become. And the fact that Rabih failed to establish a state but recycled the old fief system and had failed in nearly all his major diplomatic and economic initiatives illustrates the decline of Borno as a major power in the region. 

One is almost tempted to think back to the Sayfawa dynasty in the beginning of the century, who had to rely on al-Kanemi to drive the Fulani jihadists out. Yet the decline of the Sayfawa in the early 19th century does not appear to have been as severe as that of the Shehus of Kukawa. Nonetheless, it would be interesting to further explore the dynastic changes in 19th century Borno to trace the possible antecedence of the political turmoil, social dislocation and political decline that caused the kingdom to lose its position as the preeminent power of the Central Sudan. For instance, to what extent was the "peasant revolt" of the Manga in the 1820s similar to the failed movement of Mallam Abu Gantur's resistance to Rabih in the 1890s? Or peasant resistance to the excessive taxation of Shehu Bukar in 1883? Was the "contract" between rulers and ruled already so weak from the early 19th century conflicts or Sayfawa decline in the 18th century?

The Devastation of the Indies: A Brief Account

Due to our ongoing interest in the history of the indigenous population of the Spanish Caribbean, and their legacy today, we have been endeavoring to read more of the 16th century Spanish source material. While de las Casas may have been poorly translated by Briffault in this text, we think the "gist" of de las Casas can still be useful here for understanding how the Spanish conquest of the mainland fed captives into Hispaniola, Cuba, and Puerto Rico for decades. Sure, de las Casas is unreliable on numbers and the often confusing translation misrepresents or complicates some of his accounts, but there are numerous references to the slave trade of indigenous populations across the region. Indeed, according to our author, several Indian slaves could be traded for a horse, pigs, or other items and then be used as laborers for gold mines, agriculture, or domestics in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. 

Due to the text's emphasis on Spanish cruelty and the depopulation of the regions conquered by them, de las Casas refers to only 200 "Indian" survivors in Puerto Rico and Jamaica. Since his numbers are often imprecise or unreliable (claiming, for instance, that millions of Indians were sold in the slave trade by the time he was writing in the 1540s), and he repeats some of the same figures, we believe that it is likely that the "surviving" indigenous populations of Hispaniola and Cuba may have been much higher than 200. Particularly when one considers the large numbers of "Indians" brought to Hispaniola and Puerto Rico from the coast of Venezuela, Yucatan, Bahamas, and Florida, there must have been a large number of "Indians" who, at least for some time, maintained and "Indian" population in the Greater Antilles. Since genetic data suggests Puerto Ricans descend, in part, from pre-colonial Caribbean populations, and circum-Caribbean "Indian" populations were brought to the islands as captives, we think the genetic diversity of the Hispanic Caribbean's "Amerindian" component probably also reflects populations from northern South America, the Yucatan, Florida, and the Gulf of Paria. 

In short, de las Casas remains a powerful source on the demographic collapse of "Indies" caused by Spanish expansion and conquest. As for "Indian" survival in the Caribbean, he is weak on details, but testifies to the large-scale slave trade of indigenous populations across the hemisphere. While he turns "Indians" into reasonable beings with few flaws, constant victims of Spanish avariciousness and violence, he also describes how the separation of families, forced relocations, arduous labor regimes, and negative impact on food production must have contributed to the demographic collapse of the hemispheres. While those interested in indigenous survival in the Spanish Caribbean must take this into account, clearly not all "Indians" disappeared by the second half of the 16th century.