Ethnography After Antiquity

In our quest to read all of the books of Anthony Kaldellis, we tackled Ethnography After Antiquity: Foreign Lands and Peoples in Byzantine Literature. A detailed analysis of how ethnography disappeared or changed after Late Antiquity and then experienced a return of sorts in the 14th and 15th centuries, Kaldellis raises a number of questions and critiques of problematic notions like the "Byzantine Commonwealth" or attempts by some scholars to accuse Byzantine authors of not facing geopolitical reality due to their classicizing language or ethnonyms. For our purposes, it helps to understand why Byzantine sources are silent about Christian Nubia and Ethiopia, since not only was there a vast distance between them but a decline of ethnographic digressions in Byzantine literate precluded more explicit ethnographic accounts. Even fellow Christians among Slavic peoples or Christians in former Roman territory in the Near East were not usually written about ethnographically after Late Antiquity, making it unlikely that we will find anything like digressions by Procopius on Nubia or Aksum in authors like Psellos or Skylitzes. Instead, what happened was changes in the nature of historical writing and references to the barbarian/non-Christian Other for imperial panegyric writings, imperial biographies, or, in the cases of military manuals, occasional references to others like the "Persians." The Other was often used by Byzantine authors to help define what Roman identity meant, which was primarily Roman rather than a religious one. This meant that Christian solidarity with Latins, Slavs who converted to Christian, or even the Bulgarians after their conversion was always outweighed by political concerns by the Byzantines. The loss of much of the empire's territory due to the Arab conquests led to another problem, since now Byzantine author truly wrote an ethnographic account of Islam until the 15th century. Coming to terms with Islam and the subsequent loss of territory raised a number of critical issues and although Byzantine intellectuals certainly knew much more about the Arabs and Muslim territories, coming to analyze it objectively remained difficult. By the last century and a half of its existence, ethnographic writings return and Byzantine authors have reconsidered the status of the Western "barbarians" due to their rising political, economic and intellectual status. This fascinating period, where some authors revive a Herodotean and even Hellenic identity, is the most fascinating one. 

Les coutoumes familiares au Kanem

 

Alifa Zezerti

Les coutumes familiales au Kanem by Robert Bouillé is a dated colonial-era study of kinship and social organization in Kanem. Sometimes repetitive, the author focuses on the Kanembu, Buduma,  Fulani, Arab, and Tubu groups in Kanem. Each are distinct but similar, especially in terms of a patriarchal family structure in which wives and daughters were treated unequally. Nonetheless, the author believed that the ethnic diversity in Kanem and inter-ethnic antagonisms made French colonial rule more stable. However, as a strong proponent of rational and stable colonial administration, customary law and practices among Kanem's population required a gradual approach for reforming its population. This meant that slavery, or descendants of slaves, were still very much a part of communities while the Haddad remained an outsider group. Sometimes blood vengeance was still carried out by Tubu or Arab populations. However, with the changes introduced by colonial rule, youths were beginning to show more independence from patriarchal authority while some married women became somewhat more autonomous. Nonetheless, the portrait of the various peoples of Kanem is probably at least partially accurate for how the peoples of the region organized their communities in the 1800s and even earlier, in some instances.

In terms of the alifa based on Mao, Les coutumes familiales au Kanem is not the most detailed. Besides recounting how the French first signed a treaty with the alifa and the pacification of the province, hints of its political and economic structure are largely subdued. The current leader at Mao, Zezerti, was said to be from the Zegbada family. They were supposedly part of the Samarous tribe of its founder's name. His family group was closely aligned with the Mustafa family of Zegbadas who had apparently intermarried with them for around 2 centuries. Zezerti's mother was supposedly from this Mustafa family. Nonetheless, when comparing the genealogical information of the alifas from Landeroin's time to Bouillé, the former listed a "jagata Moustapha" who was the father of an alifa who must have resigned in the early 1800s, Ahmadou Kalli. However, there was an earlier alifa, Moutta Kinguimi, whose "proper" name may have been Moustapha. Is it possible that Zezerti and the Mustapha family represented one lineage group which only effectively occupied the throne in the 19th century, when conflicts between Waday and Borno over control of Kanem (and the Alwad Sulayman) rapidly transformed the political landscape of Kanem? Sadly, Landeroin's Notice historique has little to say about the alifas who reigned before the 19th century. A similar question might be raised about the possible religious status and authority of the alifas before the 20th century. Since Zezerti's grandfather had performed the pilgrimage to Mecca and was renowned for his baraka, Bouillé may have retroactively sought to elucidate this alleged religious/spiritual authority of the dynasty before Zezerti's grandfather in its origin. Intriguinly, Landeroin recorded that the father of Dala Afouno, the first alifa of Kanem, was a Mallam of Magoumi descent. Perhaps descent from an illustrious Islamic scholar or religious leader was part of the dynasty's legitimacy since its inception. 

In terms of Kanem before the fall of the Sayfawa, there are a number of possible hints to the influence of Kanuri groups who came to Kanem after the fall of the Bulala. For instance, the alifas appear to have set up a court with officials often using titles of Borno origin (some undoubtedly began when the Sayfawa ruled in Kanem). Their court also used a system of "fiefs" for some dignitaries and officials and relied on tribute of various types. During the period of Bornoan suzerainty, Kanem also had an institution called the Bit el mal, a sort of public fund that produced food for the poor, gifts to mallams, aided foreigners, and paid masons for building or maintaining mosques. Furthermore, a type of mutual aid practiced by farmers in Kanem, the debdou custom, allowed for Kanembus experiencing misfortune to receive presents of animals, clothes, grain, or money to help. The custom also featured dancing and drums. Whether or not this practice of mutual aid predated the period of the alifas in Mao is unclear, but Bouillé emphasized a Borno origin. 

It would be worthwhile to compare the description of Kanembu social and kinship patterns with those of Borno during the same time (or earlier). It may help establish certain patterns or trends which could have begun in Kanem during the medieval period and were maintained by the Kanuri in Borno. Similarly, it may help elucidate patterns of social change in Kanem under the Bulala and alifa rulers. Naturally, Kanem's landscape differed quite significantly from that of Borno and the region's growing aridity led to some parts being occupied mostly by nomadic groups. Nonetheless, a close examination of family structure, marital patterns, customary law, and land tenure systems could provide possible clues for earlier centuries in the annals of Kanem and Borno. For similar reasons, determining the origin of the Haddad and the interactions between Kanembu and Buduma populations may also shed light on how some aspects of the history of both regions diverged. 

The People of Esperanza

Esperanza: An Ethnographic Study of a Peasant Community in Puerto Rico, Carlos Buitrago Ortiz's ethnographic study of the rural population of Esperanza, Puerto Rico is a detailed study of kinship and its ramifications across various facets of social life. Based on fieldwork conducted in the region during the 1960s, during a phase of great change due to emigration, the work captures a rural Puerto Rico that was already losing its "traditional" character. Nonetheless, the barrio of Esperanza's population was still predominantly poor and relied on Arecibo, San Juan or the United States for a variety of services, access to work, or representatives of church and state. Most of the residents also claimed to embody or still adhere to traditional values of Esperanza before large-scale emigration's impact. In addition, most of its population continued to value kinship and affinal ties, compadrazco relations, and defined itself based on communal values in opposition to those of the state. 

For our purposes, this ethnography does not reveal much about the indigenous inheritance of the rural population. Perhaps this is due to the specific barrio in question having substantial or conspicuous ancestry traceable to the Canary Islands. Indeed, Buitrago Ortiz himself stresses the Hispanic and Mediterranean features of rural Puerto Ricans. Like those other communities, the people of Esperanza lived in a culture in which males completely controlled the public sphere, women were to remain in the domestic sphere, and to become an adult male signified marriage with children. In other words, to become a full adult male member of the community, one must marry, (eventually) live on one's own in a separate household, and have children. Strict gender roles were commonly observed and adhered to across classes. For those unable to reach this ideal, a common-law union or consensual union was accepted as long as both parties stuck to the expected gender roles. However, the preference was on a marriage through the church. Furthermore, the male was always expected to be the provider and care for his wife and dependents, laboring on his own land or for wages to provide a house, food, and supplies for the family. 

Undoubtedly, the very Hispanic and Mediterranean aspects of Puerto Rican culture represented a sharp contrast with those of pre-Hispanic populations on the island. Nonetheless, some elements of continuity may be observable in religion, spirituality, and popular belief. It is possible that the importance of bilateral kinship ties among the people of Esperanza can also be a remnant of indigenous and African heritage. In addition, the practice of inheritance in which all children inherit equally could potentially have non-Hispanic origins or influences. Compadrazo ties created between adult males of usually equal status may be an additional example of African and indigenous legacies as well as the obvious Catholic and Hispanic heritage. 

Overall, the indigenous elements are probably best expressed in religion and spirituality. For instance, the practice of vigils organized in honor of saints after a vow to the saint for aiding one included sacred and secular phases. The vigils included secular moments with men drinking alcohol, women and children enjoying soft drinks, and the serving of coffee, cheese and crackers. Vigils lasted all night and included prayer with rosaries. The close connection with a saint for their intercession on the behalf of someone who suffered from illness, debt or an accident has obvious Catholic overtones. But one may also detect indigenous and African influences through the possible substitution of cemis with saints, the Virgin, or even Jesus Christ. The vigils could become a tradition, organized annually several years after the initial promesa or vow to the saint. In addition, wakes for vigils for the dead similarly combine sacred and secular phases. According to Buitrago Ortiz, vigils included music of the type typical of rural Puerto Rico, meaning indigenous influences were likely found. The fusion of sacred and secular in an affair open to the community brings to mind Taino areitos, with their collective or communal focus.

Besides the custom of vigils, the countryside population also engaged the services of spiritualist mediums and made promesas to the saints. Saints were represented by santos de palo, or wooden figures, and often passed down for generations. These wooden figures of the saints were associated with saints who received the promises or vows of those seeking their intercession. The curative powers of these saints made them important for healing practices. Curanderos, such as Menelao, combined the chanting of prayers while manipulating or massing limbs to cure his patients. This brings to mind the curing practices of behiques of the indigenous period, who probably also used chanting and moving of the arms and legs (in addition to stones and other practices) to cure patients. Last but certainly not least, an element of indigenous beliefs likely persisted as the rural population believed in ghosts, wandering souls, and apparitions. Certain areas at night were avoided due to the fear of ghosts, just as the indigenes of Hispaniola were afraid of walking around at night due to the opias.

While Buitrago Ortiz's ethnography is more revealing of Hispanic and Mediterranean features in the culture of Puerto Rico, one can still detect indigenous (and African) characteristics. Although not the focus of the study, and perhaps the area in question was more influenced by Canary Islanders, indigenous features in rural Puerto Rican spirituality, devotion of the saints, and the healing traditions of curanderos. Future research on this theme could possibly uncover far more indigenous "retentions" if healers like Menelao were the focus of study. Moreover, bringing the question of race into social relations could have possibly led to some interesting insights on social stratification and lineage.

The Kanuri of Bornu

Cohen's ethnographic study of the Kanuri people was based on research from the 1950s and 1960s in a village called Magumeri. Focusing on the household unit as the basic building block of Kanuri society, the basis for economic, familial, political, and productive activity, Cohen's The Kanuri of Bornu suggests a certain degree of continuity in Kanuri social structure that may stretch backwards in time for several centuries. Certainly back to the time of the Sefuwa dynasty's relocation to Borno from their Kanem, some of the features of 20th century Kanuri society may have already been in place. Of course, one must be careful using the ethnographic present to inform our understanding of precolonial eras. But, the period of British colonial rule seems to have continued many aspects of local government already in place by the Shehus, who in turn retained multiple aspects of Borno's political administration already established by the Sefuwa mais. Thus, one can reasonably assert that the household with its patriarchal, virilocal structure and emphasis on discipline-respect (for relationships between superiors and subordinates/clients) has probably been a dominant trend in Kanuri culture for at least a few centuries. 

Of course, the long process in which the ancestors of the Kanuri migrated to Borno from Kanem, interacting and intermarrying with other populations and becoming more influenced by Islam since the Islamization of the Sefuwas and their Magumi clan in the late 11th century, makes it difficult to know with certainty how many of the foundational elements of Kanuri society were present in the early days of the Kanem kingdom. Perhaps the early ancestors of the Kanuri during their days in Kanem were more nomadic or semi-nomadic, with less focus on agriculture and probably, as Cohen asserts, very decentralized politically. Nonetheless, the description of the household as observed by Cohen, with its focus on "discipline-respect" and the attraction of clients to wealthy men (or wealth in dependents and redistribution) probably go back several centuries. The organization of craft production on a guild model likely also exceeds far back in time, as does the widespread cottage industry level of production during dry seasons. Perhaps even under the reign of the mais peasants were able to assert some degree of agency through migration and complaints to officials, the representatives of the fief-holders who stayed in the capital of Gazargamu.

Thus, for those curious about how Kanem-Borno may have functioned in pre-19th century eras, Cohen's study offers some fascinating theories and details. Much of how trade operated in the distant past or perhaps the so-called feudal aspects of land tenure and administration in rural areas was likely different. Yet Cohen's ethnography suggests a great degree of continuity still present in the 1960s, albeit penetrated by "modernization" at varying levels. One also gets a glimpse of how the peasantry and artisans may have interacted with the upper classes through social relations filtered through the lens of the household. One weakness of Cohen's study, however, is the omission of urbanization as a historical factor in Kanem-Borno's long history. How did urban centers operate in the precolonial era? To what extent was or is there continuity? What about pre-moden wage laborers and the importance of slavery and the slave trade? Or Borno's complex history of empire and relations with neighbors? What we need next is a detailed history of Borno that integrates anthropological research with what the historical sources tell us...

Duverneau Trouillot's Ethnography

Duverneau Trouillot's 1885 Esquisse ethnographique: Le vaudoun; Aperçu historique et évolutions provides one of the first and most detailed accounts of Haitian Vodou. As such, and despite the lack of clarity on the source of information used by Trouillot, his ethnographic account was a pioneering effort and one of the most detailed 19th century ethnographies. For instance, Trouillot provides one very detailed account of some of the major lwa, tracing their origins back to the Whydah, the "Ardres" kingdom of the "Arada" and the snake cult. The legendary snake of the widespread snake cult of Dahomey, "Ardres" and Whydah is Wedo in Haiti, but spelled by Trouillot as Houedo. Mention of Legba, Badagri, Loco, Agwe, and other well-known spirits appear in Trouillot's account. He also provides one of the earliest mentions of the "Cimbi" or Simbi spirit (although a short story by Alibée Féry used a Simbi spirit), not to mention the evolution of the term houngan, the importance of taboos, and the use of Catholic images. 

Of course, as a Haitian intellectual likely imbued with Positivism and the superiority of Western civilization, Trouillot saw Vodou as a religion in a state of decline. Vodou, according to him, existed more for entertainment and speculation, not as a serious practice. Alcohol and the cupidity of the papa-lois and mama-lois were the most powerful stimulants to the Vodou dance, in his day. Indeed, he even claims the religion no longer has dogma or rites! It is hard to take such a perspective seriously when Vodou exists to this day in Haiti and its diaspora, but Trouillot shares with Janvier a belief in presenting Haiti as evolving toward civilization, which entailed the decline of Vodou belief or practices. Thus, Trouillot can declare, "Ni les cérémonies actuellement en usage, ni l'olympe contemporain, ne rapellent le cult du passé, le vaudoun s'est francisé et tend à disparaître sous les pas redoublés de la civilisation chrétienne" (278). For Trouillot, Vodou would eventually wither away with the spread of education and civilization. 

But what is most enlightening in Trouillot's brief essay is the analysis of the priesthood of Vodou. According to Trouillot, houngans and caprelatas were ambulant, selling pwen, wanga, "science" and works. It was actually the papa or papa-loi, master of a particular society, who constituted the priesthood of the faith (although a papa could also serve as houngan). Yet, today, houngan is generally used for Vodou priests whereas papa-loi seems to have disappeared. One wonders if this process was tied to the changes in the structure of Vodou priesthood noted in Richman's Migration and Vodou, where social dislocations, proletarianization, and the rise of priests buying and selling their services gradually replaced some of the older societies led by papa-loi and family-based Vodou rituals. One cannot generalize too broadly from Trouillot's essay since it is not clear who his informants were, but one suspects it was people living in or near Port-au-Prince, possibly in the Cul-de-Sac plain. Informants from these areas may have already began a transition away from the older family-based lwa and towards the more commercial services and ceremonies which 20th century ethnographic accounts reported.

Of course, additional research is required to ascertain the accuracy of Trouillot's description of the Vodou priesthood. But it might have also shaped his negative description of Vodou if houngans and caprelatas were beginning to replace papa-lois or mama-lois, and the commercial aspect of the religion seemed more obvious. Perhaps the death of the bossales and people who were directly familiar with African rites by the late 1800s also struck the author as another cause for decline. Although he mentions special food offerings associated with Congos, Nagos, and Ibos, suggesting the persistence of Afrian "nations" by his era, Trouillot may have inferred a gradual decline as old rites and traditions adapted themselves to younger generations of Haitians. Unsurprisingly, he may have seen this as sign of a religion in decline, a faith losing its dogma and becoming the territory of charlatans who prey on the uneducated and ignorant. Moreover, the author's belief in inevitable progress also necessitated the eventual disappearance of such a religion. One wonders if, like Firmin and Comte, Trouillot saw in African "religion" an eventual leap to the positivist stage, which may have contributed to the depiction of Vodou as a religion in decline. 

Further Reading

Clorméus, Lewis Ampidu. Le Vodou Haïtien: Entre mythes et constructions Savantes. Paris: Riveneuve éditions, 2015.