Bengal, Saint-Domingue, France

An example of how Asian Indians moved to colonial Haiti can be found in the life of a Bengal native, René Marie Antoine Zamor, Indien, du Bengale. France's National Archives contains digitized collections of the declarations of enslaved and free people of color in France, including a number of Saint Domingue blacks or mixed-race people. But let's return to the topic at hand. Only 14, the young Indian man was brought to France in 1773. He then went to Saint-Domingue, where his "owner" was in the military. He later returned to France in 1776. One can see here how Asian Indian slaves sometimes arrived in Saint-Domingue. 

Jimmy...

Classic from Disco Dancer.

Madras Indian

One must be careful when interpreting the "nations" reported of runaway slaves in Saint-Domingue. This is also true for cases of "Negro Indians" or "Black Indians," who may have usually been people from India or South Asia. Although undoubtedly only a very tiny part of the slave population in Saint-Domingue, they occasionally appeared in the colony's press as runaway slaves. Sometimes they are assigned very specific regions of India, such as Bengale, Coromandel, Malabar, or the Mascarenes (where the French enslaved many Indians). In this case, however, we have encountered, for the first time, an Indian from Madras. This specific Indian runaway, Jean-François, was probably the subject of a runaway ad posted in May 1790. Without this additional description of him in the newspaper, we would not have figured out he was from Madras, or supposedly from Madras (a Tamil, then?).

A Correction...

A correction is in order. In an old post for this site, we wrote about the tiny population of Asian Indians in Saint Domingue. In that brief foray into the slave trade of Asian Indians and their presence in the pre-19th century Caribbean, we repeated what we have recently learned is most likely an error about one of those exceptional voyages that allegedly carried captives from India to Saint-Domingue. Well, consulting the sources that are accessible has clarified the matter. 

In brief, we relied on Richard Allen's scholarship for insights on the nature of slavery and the slave trade in the Mascarenes. His work was invaluable for beginners like us who were (and are) still struggling to make sense of the Indian Ocean World and its ties to important Atlantic World colonies like Saint Domingue. Nonetheless, it appears like Jean Mettas, whose Répertoire des expéditions négrières françaises au XVIIIe siècle is an excellent source of information on the French Slave Trade, made a mistake with regards to at least one slave ship. This was La Cibele, or Cybele, a ship which arrived in Le Cap after a long voyage from the Indian Ocean. According to one archival source cited by Mettas, La Cybele reached Saint Domingue from the "coasts of India." However, Mettas or Allen did not consult Saint Domingue's newspaper for details on the human cargo of the vessel. 

According to Affiches americaines, the 400 or so slaves were actually acquired from Mozambique, not India. This is more logical and fits with the pattern of French slaving voyages to Mozambique, Madagascar and the Mascarenes acquiring goods from India for the purchase of slaves in Africa, then bringing said African captives to the Americas. The ship was also carrying Indian merchandise, so it likely did travel to India (or purchased the goods in the Mascarenes?). But the approximately 400 African slaves brought to Le Cap were, at least according to the press, from Mozambique. 

This suggests that ships which did travel from India to Saint-Domingue and brought slaves from the subcontinent were probably more akin to the cases we found in our past exploration of the newspaper. One at least 2 occasions ships coming from India to Saint Domingue included slaves for sale (40 and 16), but it is still not entirely clear said captives were actually from India. However, it is probable that some were, as the appearance of "Negro Indians" and references to specific regions of India for some runaway slaves or slave sale advertisements suggest. "Blacks" from the Malabar Coast, Bengale, the Coromandel Coast, or "black Indians" from Mauritius (Ile de France) and Bourbon or Madras undoubtedly prove the presence of said Indians in the colony. 

Ethiopia's Armenian Envoy in the East

E.J. van Donzel's Foreign Relations of Ethiopia 1642-1700: Documents Relating to the Journeys of Khodja Murad contains translations of various primary source documents on an interesting figure in Ethiopia's diplomatic history. Said to have been an illiterate Armenian merchant from Aleppo, Khoja Murad served as an envoy for the Solomonic rulers of Ethiopia on a number of missions to Mughal India and the VOC in Batavia (Indonesia). Although, at least with regards to the VOC, trade of any significant scale between the powerful Dutch company and Ethiopia did not materialize, the documents, letters, and reports pertaining to Murad attest to the global presence of Solomonic Ethiopia in the Early Modern World. 

Indeed, despite relying, for the most part, on Ottoman-ruled Massawa for access to Red Sea and Indian Ocean trade, Fasiladas, Yohannes, and Iyasu I maintained or at least endeavored to send friendly missions to the powerful empires of Asia and the Mediterranean. Thus, the Ottomans, Persians, Mughals, and the VOC in Southeast Asia all received envoys from the Ethiopians at various moments in the 17th century. While the letters exchanged between the VOC and Ethiopia were vague and some of the Dutch sources questioned the authenticity of Murad or the likelihood of any profitable trade with the African kingdom, the letters illustrate a keen desire on the part of the Gondar kings to expand and sustain trading partnerships. In fact, despite the expulsion of the Jesuits and Roman Catholics, the rulers were not opposed to Protestant Europeans and were willing to promote trade with Muslim powers and neighbors. As revealed by the account of al-Haymi's mission from Yemen to Fasilides, the negus was hoping to promote Red Sea trade through the port of Baylul. Unfortunately, it did not succeed. This failure to develop trade on a large scale at that port meant that Massawa remained the main port of entry for Ethiopian access to Asian goods. While Zeila was later promoted to the Dutch as another possible port, the danger of Oromo groups on the way to the Ethiopian highlands and the necessity of requiring the permission of the imam of Mokha posed additional problems. Thus, the Solomonic dynasty had to rely on Massawa. Fortunately for the Ethiopians, the Ottoman pasha of Massawa was dependent on Ethiopian goodwill for food and water. In addition, Fasilides, his son, and his grandson also relied on the Ottoman officials in Massawa to help police the movement of Catholic Europeans into the kingdom. Nonetheless, the lack of direct access to the Red Sea at a viable port created complications for large-scale VOC trade in the region.

Despite this "failure" of Khoja Murad's voyages to Batavia, the sources translated in van Donzel's account allude to numerous aspects of Ethiopia's relations with the broader Red Sea and Indian Ocean worlds. With Mughal India, for instance, the sorry state of Murad's party when they finally met with Aurangzeb may have been saved by the depredations of Shivadji. Subsequent to their audience with Aurangzeb, Murad's Abyssinian mission received the equivalent of 20,000 francs of rupees from the Mughal ruler, which was later spent on Indian goods to bring back to Ethiopia at a profit. This episode reveals how Murad combined diplomacy and business while also illustrating how the Mughal ruler basically saw the gift to the Abyssinians as another way of promoting his economy. Since the Ethiopians used the funds to purchase Indian goods, it was another way for the Mughal ruler to boost his economy. As for the question of the Mughal ruler asking for Fasilides to rebuild a mosque in or near Gondar, perhaps this was just another element of the flexibility Abyssinian rulers (and their envoys) adopted in order to maintain profitable relations with Muslim powers. 

Other documents translated from Dutch, Arabic, and, in one case, Armenian, similarly shed light on Ethiopia during the second half of the 17th century. For instance, the Gongo region's population were said to be descendants of Hindustani Rajputs. The attempted coup against Iyasu, which involved his mother, was also reported. The Funj Sultanate, ruled from Sennar, was still reported to be a vassal province of the Christian Solomonic state. Furthermore, the identity of the Armenian bishop who traveled to Ethiopia during the reign of Yohannes is reported. Probably Hovannes Tutundju, who had traveled to Istanbul, Italy and Egypt, his account of Ethiopia, despite its brevity, provides another perspective on Gondar. One also wonders if the Ethiopians had developed a coffee industry in the 18th century, would they have been able to attract greater Dutch (and English) interest in trade? And if Iyasu had succeeded in somehow establishing relations with France or another Catholic European power, in spite of the opposition of the Ethiopian clergy, would the course of 18th century Ethiopian history have been quite different?

The Indianized States of Southeast Asia

George Coedès was one of the major historians of Southeast Asia. Due to his stature in the field and importance in the study of Cambodia and Srivijaya, reading The Indianized States of Southeast Asia felt like a requirement. And despite being somewhat outdated and reflecting an older worldview and approach to historical research, Coedès wrote a very reasonable survey of Southeast Asian history based on contemporary scholarship. Of course, it was almost inevitable that the legacy of European colonialism shaped how Coedès conceived of Indianization. Although Indians did not conquer and found states in Southeast Asia, local elites adopted aspects of Indian culture or intermarried with Indians through a process unfortunately little known or understood. Nonetheless, Coedès viewed this as Indians civilizing Southeast Asians, who would have otherwise been as unknown historically as New Guinea and Australian Aboriginal populations. Hindu and Buddhist civilization, Indian-derived scripts, mandalas and the laws of Manu provided the basis for the efflorescence of various Southeast Asian states from Funan and Lin-yi to Siam and Majapahit. 

Somehow, despite his own evidence to the contrary, the author wants us to believe Southeast Asia never made any major contribution to the world and actually declined as Indianization was replaced by Islam or weakened by local cultures (the latter particularly fueled by Theravada Buddhism). This stance is definitely counter to that of more recent scholarship, which stresses local agency in the adoption of Indian culture and the role of Southeast Asians in promoting and facilitating trade in the Indian Ocean. In some respects, it reminds us of the debates on the Swahili culture of East Africa or even the kingdoms and states of Sudanic Africa and trans-Saharan trade. Colonial scholars of both Southeast Asia and Sudanic Africa sometimes approached the peoples of the two regions as empty receptacles for the "advanced" cultures and civilizations of other regions. Southeast Asia, however, was undeniably important in "Old World" exchange before most of sub-Saharan Africa. Nonetheless, we cannot help but think of the occasional parallels between both regions in their relations with the better-known civilizations to their north, the centers that allegedly "civilized" them (Islamic civilization of the Middle East and North Africa, India and China in the case of Southeast Asia). 

As a basic synthesis of about 1500 years of SE Asian history, this work is a readable summary of the known knowledge on the subject. Much of it relies on inscriptions and references from Chinese annals or later local chronicles, so it is very much a history of royal courts, elites, and Hinduism and Buddhism at the aristocratic or political elite domain. It was undoubtedly adapted to meet local needs, and was often consistent or could be consistent with local animistic traditions and beliefs in spirits residing in mountains, ancestors, and deified kings (devaraja). That said, the numerous gaps in our knowledge and the struggle to piece together a coherent narrative out of the sources then available made for sometimes speculative interpretations by Coedès. So much is unknown or guesswork based on what some inscriptions implied or how Chinese sources, which were not always reconcilable with local inscriptions or names, referred to such and such king or polity. The confused genealogies of kings, the role of matrilineal inheritance, and other factors also obscure royal genealogies and chronologies. That said, however, Southeast Asia's brilliant civilizations, such as Cambodia under the Khmer or Srivijiaya and the Sailendras at their zenith, bequeathed a glorious legacy to posterity through temples, monuments, canals, artificial lakes, and the arts, Coedès draws on the study of sculpture, literature, religious texts, and the other arts to supplement the other sources in a way that is admirable. One only wishes that the author had taken a bit more seriously the allegedly non-civilized masses or subjects and the hill peoples in the analysis for a fuller picture of how these states actually operated and integrated "Indianized" elites and commoners who may have not been influenced by Indianization until the spread of Theravada Buddism. 

India, Guadeloupe, Haiti

Although we have written about the tiny Asian Indian presence in Saint Domingue, we always wondered if people of Indian descent came to Haiti from other Caribbean populations in more recent history. Guadeloupe, in at least once case, provided one such example. Named Sinasfamir Mounien, and born in Guadeloupe to parents from India, he married a Haitian woman in Port-au-Prince in 1903. The marriage act alludes to his parents as Indians and the names certainly sound like it, too. What was he doing in Haiti in 1903? Was he able to earn Haitian citizenship as someone of "Indian" origin? Or was it acquired through his marriage to a Haitian woman? Was he searching for economic or professional opportunities denied to him in Guadeloupe but open to enterprising people of color from the French Antilles in Haiti? It would be mildly interesting to uncover what brought this young man from Guadeloupe to Haiti. And where in India did his parents hail from? We know that he stayed in Haiti for at least some time, having a daughter born in Port-au-Prince in 1906. By then, he was named Louis Emilien Mounien and resided in Port-au-Prince with a domicile in Guadeloupe (Pointe-à-Pitre).

Envoys of a Human God

Several months ago, we were invited to participate in a reading group formed to devour several books on Ethiopian history, with an emphasis on the Jesuits. It took us quite some time to get to it, but we have been periodically reading whatever we can find on Ethiopian history, particularly the medieval and early modern eras of the Solomonic kingdom. Since there are so many studies and translated sources on the Jesuits in Ethiopia, we decided Envoys of a Human God: The Jesuit Mission to Christian Ethiopia, 1557-1632 to be a good introduction to a complex topic with such an ample documentary trail. Andreu Martínez d'Alòs-Moner's study contextualizes the Mission in the larger East of Jesuit missionary activity during the 16th and 17th centuries, an approach we appreciate due to our readings of Jesuit relations in the Americas and China. 

This is not to ignore the specificity and distinct place of Ethiopia in the Jesuit and Western Christian imagination. After all, Ethiopia's ruler has been associated with the Prester John and even the founder of the Society of Jesus conceived of Ethiopia's "restoration" into the Roman Catholic fold as one of the special projects of the order. And, of course, the Solomonic state's already Christian population was not the same as non-Christian Japanese or Chinese or Muslims and Hindus in India. But Jesuit perceptions of Ethiopian Christianity as wayward or aberrant because of the observance of the Sabbath, the widespread practice of circumcision, belief in the uniquely divine nature of Christ, excessive fasting and the negative influence of the Coptic Church of Alexandria made Ethiopians in need of a restitution of their original Roman tutelage. Several chapters explore these theological, political, and social differences between Ethiopian Christianity and the Catholicism of the Counter-Reformation and Jesuits. Some of these aforementioned differences in practice and interpretation led to problems for the missionaries that they could never resolve, particularly over their more pronounced use of icons and certain rites in public, which were perceived by Ethiopians as profaning the sacred mysteries. 

Unlike the previous historical works we have read which have touched upon the Jesuit interlude in Ethiopian history, Envoys of a Human God challenges previous scholarship's unproven assumptions. For example, the idea that the Jesuit missionaries were attractive to Susenyos because the order supported political absolutism is completely absent from the voluminous sources left behind by the Jesuits. Instead, Susenyos probably saw in the Jesuits and the Portuguese a cosmopolitan group whose support for rationalization of the royal court would have appealed to a ruler in a politically decentralized kingdom or empire with recent upheaval for much of the 16h and early 17th centuries. Of course, the impressive architectural and technological knowledge of Europe and India also appealed to Susenyos and their foreign textiles, exotic wares, and trade connections could not have hurt. Likewise, one cannot blame Mendes or Paez for the successes and failures of the overall Mission since their personalities and perceived policy differences were not significant enough to have caused the failure of the mission. Both Paez and Mendes pursued a policy of "Latinization" of Ethiopian Christianity through a top-down strategy of winning over Susenyos and key nobles. Both believed Ethiopian Christianity needed to be aligned with Catholic dogma and practice and were largely opposed to compromise. 

This lack of compromise and a few other practices of the Jesuits, unsurprisingly, sparked unrest, conflict, debate, and, eventually, outright rebellions that led to the fall of Susenyos and the restoration of the local Church. The Jesuit reliance on royal and local elite donors contributed to the precarious nature of the Mission, too. Perceived as attacking local traditions and beliefs, they further antagonized the population as recipients of land grants and donations which worried traditionalists fearful of losing land and influence. When one thinks about it in the larger picture, it is not surprising that the Jesuits failed so quickly after several decades because, as Envoys of a Human God argues, their moment of greatest success was in a period of socio-political transition with a sympathetic ruler whose patronage was necessary to maintain and expand. Once those conditions changed and the ruler was unable to fund or publicly support the Jesuits, they were exiled, persecuted, forced underground, or killed. Outside of a legacy in architecture, painting, and, perhaps, new theological discourse within Ethiopian Orthodoxy, the Jesuit legacy disappeared with the expulsion of the last Ethio-Portuguese or their complete assimilation by the late 17th century. As for what else happened to the converts to Catholicism is not entirely clear, probably due to a paucity of sources. We know several local Catholics faced persecution and execution but it would be fascinating to find out more about crypto-Catholic communities during the reign of Fasiladas and Yohannes. We have encountered the figure of 100,000 for local converts to Catholicism in other studies, which seems small, but the eventual suppression and disappearance of this population and those of mixed-race Ethio-Portuguese descent as a recognized group might suggest something about the nature of the state and nation-building in Gondarine Ethiopia. 

Last but certainly not least, one cannot understand the Ethiopia Mission without mentioning India, particularly Goa and Diu. Without the strong Portuguese base in Goa and relationships with banyan and Muslim traders passing between Diu and the Red Sea, the Portuguese would have struggled to send missionaries to the Ethiopian highlands. Furthermore, Indian craftsmen, masons, and building techniques (Indo-Portuguese and Mughal) seem to have clearly influenced Jesuit constructions in Ethiopia, an example of what the author calls architectonics that shaped Gondarine architecture long after the suppression of Catholicism in the 1630s and beyond. Undoubtedly, the Church infrastructure organized in Goa, and Indian artisans and masons were central to the project until the decline of Portuguese India and the Mission's greater reliance on Susenyos and local, elite backers. Indian textiles, artisans, architectural styles, and the cosmopolitan world of the Indian Ocean were a necessary background for the Jesuits to pass through Red Sea ports and enter Ethiopia. Despite never establishing a foothold in Massawa or the coast of today's Eritrea, which would have facilitated the Jesuits tremendously, Portuguese India served as an essential base for communication, supplies, educated missionary personnel, and skilled workmen 

Shuka Saptati

Although it took us over a year to finally procure a copy and read Haksar's translation of the Sanskrit Shuka Saptati, it was an enjoyable experience. A frame story consisting of several interlinked short tales connected to the subject of marital infidelity, a parrot convinces a married woman to not cheat her on merchant husband traveling abroad. As you can probably guess, story collections like these were translated into Persian and probably influenced some of the story cycles of the Middle East, too. These amusing tales of cheating wives, clever individuals and the occasional animal fable are not equal in comedy or wit, but very enlightening on an interesting past in which women seem to have had more sexual liberties than today. 

Madhav & Kama: A Love Story from Ancient India

A.N.D. Haksar's translation of the short tale Madhav & Kama: A Love Story from Ancient India is an interesting read for those interested in prose (or mostly prose) writings from the Sanskrit language. While differing from the literary standards of Dandin or works like Kadambari for its simplistic plot structure and avoidance of the excessively descriptive passages, the author of the original manuscript must have been aware of the earlier romance narratives in Sanskrit literature. Madhavanala Kamakandala Katha, unfortunately, lacks the excitement or engaging stories of Dandin. Here, a brahmin and a courtesan fall in love, consummate their relationship, are separated after a king banishes Madhav, and reunited after King Vikramaditya defeats Kama Sena. With the exception of being more sensual and erotic than, say, ancient Greek romances, this tale reads like a weaker, less developed version of a romance, akin to Ephesian Tale. Because it is a story from several centuries ago, divinities and miraculous events happen, such as the resurrection of the two lovers. It also extolls the importance of caste and merit, for both are necessary for the ideal individual. Again, hardly a surprise. We will have to revisit this text after reading more Sanskrit texts.

Asian Indians in Saint Domingue: An Early Indo-Caribbean Population

While researching the presence of indigenous peoples of the Americas in Saint Domingue, in an attempt to come to some kind of historical understanding of the relationship between "Amerindian" peoples and Haiti, one comes across numerous references to Asian Indians in the sources. Although their numbers must have been even tinier than those of free and enslaved indigenous peoples in the French colony, attempting to enumerate and study their presence in Saint Domingue highlights the global dimensions of French Empire in the 18th century. Moreover, the "East Indian" slaves and free people of color also push back the origins of the Indo-Caribbean, placing them deeper into the historical panorama of the region. This post will attempt a brief look at this minority of the captive population to see what it reveals about the nature of Saint Domingue, its heterogeneous enslaved population, and the global networks in the crown jewel of 18th century French colonialism.

Some of the best evidence for East Indian captives in Saint Domingue are newspaper advertisements for goods from ships arriving from India. Like the above, le Confiant, appearing in Affiches Americaines, East Indian slaves were probably small in number and part of a mixed cargo of various textiles, teas and goods from the East. In this case, about 40 "beaux" blacks are part of the goods for sale. It is possible some of the French ships coming from India stopped in the Mascarenes, Mozambique or Madagascar to pick up slaves or resupply before crossing the Atlantic. However, the easiest explanation is that the 40 captives on the Confiant were from India, presumably purchased in or near the French comtpoirs on the Indian coast. Indians were also sold or kidnapped from territories under English East India Company rule and put on French or Dutch ships.

First, one must begin with the origins of East Indian slaves. There is evidence that the Portuguese were already selling slaves from Goa and other regions of the subcontinent as early as the 16th century. Europeans were also bringing African or Asian slaves to serve in cities like Portuguese Goa, while also purchasing local Indians who were either sold by their families during times of famine or crisis or kidnapped by greedy local merchants. Relatively early on, Asian captives found their way to Europe and, likely, the Americas. Indeed, according to the work of Forbes, Asian Indian captives were present in Seville, Lisbon and other parts of the Iberian peninsula, alongside West African, North African, indigenous peoples from the Americas and Canary Islanders. The Dutch were also engaged in the slave trade in the East Indies, importing a large number of slaves from the coasts of India to the Cape Colony.

Runaway slave ad for a Creole Indian barber named Aly. It's very possible that Aly was not of East Indian origin, but his occupation and name may be more likely references to Asian Indians. Some Asian Indian slaves were Muslims, like the Lascars. If Aly was his chosen name then he may have been a Lascar. The fact that he is identified as being born in the colony demonstrates Asian Indian captives lived long enough to reproduce.

  

By the time the French were engaging in Indian slave trading in the 18th century, captives were purchased or kidnapped (probably both) from Bengal, Coromandel, Malabar, and sold to ships at the various French comptoirs on the coast. A few of their captives came from other parts of the subcontinent, like Goa. According to various sources, 18th century Bengal suffered from slave trading, but Malabar and Coromandel were also active ports. Bengal was particularly associated with the sale of children, often exported on Dutch and French ships. Megan Vaughan's work on Mauritius tells us Indian slaves were Lascars, Topas, Malabar, Bengali, Talinga, but there were likely other groups represented. While the French East Indian Company was primarily interested in purchasing Indian textiles and other goods, which were also sold in Africa (for more slaves) and in France and its colonies, Indian peoples were up for sale. The total numbers of Indian slaves carried on French ships was surely quite small, as the captives must have usually been part of a mixed cargo consisting of various commodities. For a reliable estimate on the estimated number of Indian captives brought by the French to their colonies in the Mascarenes, between 1670-1810, historian Richard B. Allen suggests 21,000. Not counted in that estimate is the number of free Indian artisans and sailors who went to Mauritius voluntarily, as Indian artisans were prized a a cheaper source of labor in the than European "skilled labor." By the time of the Haitian Revolution, the French slave trade in India was interrupted by war with Britain that ended large-scale slave trading from that region. Therefore, it is likely that most Indians in Saint Domingue had arrived by the early 1790s.

Runaway slave ad for Charlot, a "natif des grandes Indes." Charlot's origins in India and status as a carpenter further suggest a connection of Asian Indian captives with trades or "skilled occupations" in Saint Domingue and other French colonies.

Of course, 21,000 is a tiny number compared to the much larger quantities of captives from Africa (Mozambique, East Africa, Madagascar, and, to a lesser extent, West Africa) in the Mascarenes. Yet a significant minority of the total slave population in Mauritius and Reunion were Indians. Considering the vast distances separating Saint Domingue and India, and the intra-imperial networks connecting the Mascarenes and French slave trading networks in nearby Mozambique, the total number of East Indian captives who made it to the French Caribbean was probably a small fraction of the estimated total of 21,000. This is backed up by various advertisements in Saint Domingue newspapers of the arrival of ships from India and runaway slave advertisements for Indian maroons from Mauritius and Reunion. Most of the Indians who came on ships directly from India were part of mixed a mixed cargo with small numbers of slaves, ranging in number from as low as 16 to 40. The only possible exception to this is the case of La Cibele, identified by Richard B. Allen as a slave ship that arrived in Saint Domingue in 1778. Reaching Saint Domingue from the coasts of India, with 258 men, 49 women, 57 boys and 22 girls for sale, it must have been a particularly long and hellish voyage.  One cannot help but wonder if this ship actually picked up slaves from India then stopped to resupply in the Mascarenes before acquiring more from Mozambique or East Africa. Either way, it seems to the only example of a French slave that may have carried hundreds of Indians to Saint Domingue in a single voyage.

Sometimes, runaway slave ads specifically mention places in India that make it clear said maroon was from the East Indies, like Zamor.

 

Other sources from within Saint Domingue also suggest the East Indian presence was quite small. According to Moreau de Saint-Méry's encyclopedic tome on the colony, the "Oriental Indians" were fewer than the "Western" Indians. He also used a Creole-sounding word to designate them, zingre. Their racial mixtures with Africans in the colony, "qui sont aussi infiniment rares dans la colonie," suggests not only a small population but one that, perhaps, rarely intermarried with the African majority of the enslaved population.  In addition, David Geggus's exhaustive research on plantation inventories in Saint Domingue also point to a very small "Indien" presence, less than 1% of the total captive population. In his definition of Indian were included "Amerindians" and East Indians, and Saint-Méry has already indicated that the former outnumbered the latter. Another scholar, McClellan, estimated about 500 Indians were in Saint Domingue by the late 18th century, although this could have been mostly "Amerindian" people. Unfortunately, it does not take into account the numbers of "Indians" in Saint Domingue at various moments in the late 1600s and early 1700s, which, if one counts descendants who were "reclassified" as free people of color, makes 500 probably an underestimate. 

 

Michel, a "Mulatto Indian" from what is now Mauritius, is a perfect example of the ways in which slaves from French Indian ocean colonies were sometimes transported to the Caribbean.

 

Thus, in consideration of the above sources, this blog will suggest the total number of East Indians in Saint Domingue was likely in the hundreds, perhaps no more than 500 or 600, across the 18th century. With the exception of La Cibele in 1778, when several hundred arrived, most were likely arriving in the colony as parts of the mixed cargo of ships from India. Some may have been sold or transferred from the Mascarenes on other vessels. This small-scale trade, perhaps most consistent in the period of 1770-1793, leads one to think the total numbers of East Indians must have been low. Of course, some may have arrived on ships that also acquired slaves at Mozambique or the Swahili Coast. To what extent were Asian captives from the Mascarenes part of that traffic is unknown, but likely minimal compared to the thousands of "Mozambiques" who appear in Saint Domingue during the later decades of the 18th century. Nonetheless, all the above suggests Indians were a minuscule part of the total slave population, vastly outnumbered by hundreds of thousands of West, Central, and, increasingly, East Africans.

Etienne is identified as a black Indian creole of what is now Reunion. Clearly, at least a few East Indian slaves from the Mascarenes were sold in Saint-Domingue or brought there by the French. Some, like Etienne, were singled out for speaking French.

Now that it is established that the East Indian presence was very minimal, and probably more concentrated in Saint Domingue than other French colonies in the Antilles (perhaps the greatest concentration of East Indians in the Caribbean during the 18th century?), which the runaway slave ads seem to suggest, what can one say of their presence in the colony? Since written sources alluding to them are rare, one can look to conditions of Indian enslavement in the Masacarenes for possible hints. In the Mascarene colonies, Indians were often stereotyped as more obedient and intelligent than their Malagasy and African counterparts. And it is true that Indian slaves were often employed in trades that slaves from Madagascar and Mozambique were less likely to perform. However, the stereotypes of slaves, as provided by French planters and colonial authorities, were not always based in reality. One must also account for the differences in "national" or ethnic stereotypes that various plantation societies developed about the same groups of people. Those caveats aside, it is likely that French stereotypes in Saint Domingue of "blacks" and "Indians" from the subcontinent were similar to those of their planter counterparts in the Mascarenes, or at least influenced by them. Further, if the association of Indian captives with domestic labor, added to the fact that many were children or young adults, was true for Saint Domingue as well, then Indians in Saint Domingue probably served similar functions as domestic slaves in the towns and plantation homes. Moreover, Indian captives may have also worked as sailors and in urban trades in Le Cap and other towns of Saint Domingue. Perhaps many worked as barbers, servants, cooks, fishermen, bakers, blacksmiths and assistants, if runaway slave ads are reliable indications. A few were listed as speaking French or had traveled to France, suggesting that some would have been valued as fluent speakers of the dominant language and perhaps well traveled across the French Atlantic and Indian Ocean worlds.

 

Francois, identified as an Indian from the Coromandel coast, was clearly from the subcontinent.

 

 

Unfortunately, it is difficult to say what, if any, were the relations between these and African or Creole slaves of the colony. If free, they were, in theory, entitled to the rights of whites, like those of "Amerindian" descent. Free Indians may have been quite similar to free people of African descent, but evidence from Mauritius suggests at least a partial separation of the free people of color population in Port-Louis (Camp des Malabars was an "Indian" quarter, though Indians also lived in the free black African quarter and vice versa). But scholars also point out the porous nature of borders between Indian, Malagasy and Africans in Mauritius. While some of the Indians retained their sense of identity and continued to wear clothes affiliated with their regional origins, many probably shaped or joined the burgeoning "Creole" culture of the enslaved and free "black" population of the island. For Saint Domingue, where the Indian population was far smaller, there is no evidence of a "Camp des Malabars" and they might have merged into the general slave and free people of color categories rather quickly. Those who were free may have become slaveholders themselves, if "Indien" owners identified in runaway ads were indeed Asian.

 

Jean-Louis, of the "Malabar nation" in India, is associated with a ship captain coming from Mozambique. This illustrates how French slaving in the Indian Ocean sometimes brought captives from different parts of Africa, Madagascar, and India to Saint Domingue.

Besides the evidence of a limited residential separation of the racial "castes" in Mauritius's Port-Louis, there is evidence in France itself of Indian slaves suing for their freedom on the basis of non-African origin. There may have been, by the late 18th century, a sense among some Indians and Europeans that enslavement was only to be associated with those bearing the "indelible stain" of African ancestry.  This was the case with "Amerindian" peoples, who were supposed to be given the rights of whites and be exempt from racial prejudice. Therefore, Indians, despite their dark skin, were not to be associated with Africans and should be emancipated or enjoy the rights of whites. This development is tied to the growth of racial ideology \ might have appealed to Indians living in the Mascarenes and Saint Domingue as grounds for their freedom and claims to the rights and privileges of the white population. Increasingly discriminatory laws against free people of color in Saint Domingue may have also pressured those of "Indien" origin to distinguish themselves from African-descended people. It certainly led to some free people of color in Saint Domingue claiming Indian descent in response to discriminatory laws. Of course, the remaining question is to what extent were Indians, of the occidental and oriental types, actually receiving the rights and privileges of whites? Those who were "unmixed" with Africans may have had an easier time attaining the aforementioned privileges, but free people of color who claimed "Indien" origin (in this case, almost always "Amerindian") were refused patents recognizing that heritage. What were things actually like for people of East Indian origin remains to be seen. If the example of Mauritius gives any indication, some may have been able to become landowners like other free people of color. 

Some of the runaway slaves who found their way to Saint Domingue embodied all the vast influences, cultures, and imperial rivalries of the Indian Ocean. This example, of a black cook and baker, a "Creole of Goa," is mentioned as someone who not only speaks French, Portuguese, and English, but nearly all the languages of Africa's eastern littoral. This means this "Creole of Goa" may have been of African origin, and probably spoke Swahili. A perfect example of the complex inter-imperial slave trade networks that connected India and Africa via Portuguese and French trade in the Indian Ocean.

So, what became of Asian Indians in Saint Domingue during and after the Haitian Revolution? Runaway slave ads before and during the early 1790s attest to their presence. One would think most merged into the general population, and were given the same rights as other citizens. In fact, the case of Benjamin Fruneau, according to Madiou, who came to Haiti after independence, indicates Haiti's willingness to grant citizenship rights to people of Indian descent included Asians. But during the course of the Haitian revolution, some East Indian captives from Saint Domingue were brought to the US by their fleeing French owners. Runaway slave advertisements from Virginia in the 1790s reference an East Indian who may have been trying to return to Saint Domingue. The case of Crispin, who was in brought to Philadelphia in 1791, answers some of our questions. Crispin, on the run in Virginia, was allegedly waiting for passage to Saint Domingue, where, in 1794, slavery was abolished. That he wished to return to the island indicates his wish to live as an emancipated person, and put his hopes in a free Saint Domingue.

Twenty Dollars Reward. Run away from his Master in the City of Philadelphia, on Saturday the 15th of November last, a kind of Mulatto East-India Boy named CRISPIN, about 16 years old, 5 feet 4 inches high, slender built; he has been in the city for about 3 years speaks French and broken English; has straight black hair, which he sometimes ties; well made and walks upright; had on when he went away an almost new black hat, new short Jacket, and a pair of French fashioned trousers with feet to them, made of grey coating with plated buttons, white shirt, French neck handkerchief, and an almost new pair of shoes tied with ribbon, and wears sometime a National Cockade. There is reason to believe he has been brought into the state by a Frenchman, and is at present somewhere in or about Williamsburg or Norfolk waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. Whoever will secure the said boy in jail of this state so that his Master may get him again, shall have the above reward of twenty Dollars paid by the Printer of this Paper, with reasonable charges.--Norfolk, Dec. 9, 1794.

In some rare cases, East Indian captives owned by the French were brought to the US. In Norfolk, Virginia, a Frenchman posted an ad for his runaway "East India mulatto" boy, Crispin, who is identified as waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. 

 

 

 As for other East Indians from Saint Domingue, the case of African American John Pierre Burr's mother demonstrates the East Indian/Saint Domingue presence in Philadelphia's free black population. Burr's sister would later join the Haitian emigration movement in the 1820s, perhaps remembering their mother's Saint Domingue roots. Jack Forbes also mentioned, in passing, a family of East Indian and white origin from Saint Domingue living in South Carolina in 1817. Thus, 'mixed-race' Saint Domingue and Haitian families of Indian origin were found among the Saint Domingue diaspora in the US, and may have returned to Haiti during the 1820s and other periods. Similar families almost surely existed in post-1804 Haiti, but tracking them after the colonial period is difficult. Considering their small numbers and younger profile, one would assume they rather quickly merged into the general population. Those who were free before the Haitian Revolution may have married into similar families, and perhaps would have been met by Benjamin Fruneau in France and Haiti. While Madiou's account of Fruneau's origins suggest he heard about Haiti while living in Europe, it is possible he was already familiar with Saint Domingue as an important French colony where Asian Indians were present. This is pure speculation, but possible, given the circulation of people and goods between the two corners of the French colonial world. 

 

An advertisement for more goods for sale brought by La Parfait-Union. Included among its merchandise were 16 "beaux" Negroes, one of whom was a cook. This is another example of the fact that French ships coming from India included slaves in the cargo, albeit at much lower numbers than those coming directly from Africa. 

Since there are limitations to the sources used here, and a reliance on argument by analogy with regards to the Mascarenes, this post barely scratches the surface of a topic germane to the history of Indo-Caribbean peoples. While focusing on the territory with no known association with Indian immigration in the 19th and 20th centuries, baring a few exemptions (Dadlani from Jamaica, Fruneau from Mauritius/France), this post attempted to uncover and, in a limited way, analyze the presence of Indian slaves in the most important plantation colony of the 18th century.  While East Indians were in the Americas in the 16th century, and appear in various colonies and territories of the Caribbean-region during the colonial period, this blog post attempted to highlight those of Saint Domingue, postulating a perhaps greater number of them in this particular colony. The presence of East Indian slaves in the Caribbean may also yield insights into the nature of indentured Indian worker programs in the 19th and 20th centuries, demonstrating the long association of Indian people with coercive labor in parts of the Indian Ocean World and the Caribbean. Their presence also points to the interlocking nature of French colonialism and trade in the 18th century. For instance, French ships carried Indian textiles (and captives) for consumers in France and Africa (for additional slaves), and Indian textiles were key to clothing enslaved subjects in the Caribbean. The presence of actual Indian slaves in Saint Domingue adds another dimension to this, with intercontinental trade, migration, and coercive labor systems joining together European encroachment and hegemony in the two Indies.

Bibliography

Allen, Richard Blair. European Slave Trading in the Indian Ocean, 1500-1850. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press, 2014. 

 

----"Suppressing a Nefarious Traffic: Britain and the Abolition of Slave Trading in India and the Western Indian Ocean, 1770-1830." The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, 66, no. 4 (2009): 873-94. Accessed November 1, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40467545.

 

Carter, Marina. 'Slavery and Unfree Labour in the Indian Ocean,' History Compass, 4:5 (2006): 800–813.

 

Filliot, Jean-Michel. La Traite Des Esclaves Vers Les Mascareignes Au XVIIIe Siècle. Paris: ORSTOM, 1974.

Garrigus, John D. Before Haiti: Race and Citizenship in French Saint-Domingue. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

 

Geggus, David. "The Naming Of Haiti." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 71, no. 1/2 (1997): 43-68. Accessed November 4, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41849817.

 

Hooper, Jane & David Eltis."The Indian Ocean in Transatlantic Slavery." Slavery & Abolition, 34 no. 3 (2013): 353-375.

Major, Andrea. Slavery, Abolitionism and Empire in India, 1772-1843. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2012.

McClellan, James E. (James Edward). Colonialism and Science: Saint Domingue in the Old Regime. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. 

Moreau de Saint-Méry, Méderic Louis Élie. Description topographique, physique, civile, politique et historique de la partie françoise de l'isle Saint-Domingue. 3 vols. Philadelphia:  1797.

Shell, Robert Carl-Heinz. Children of Bondage: A Social History of the Slave Society At the Cape of Good Hope, 1652-1838. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1994.

Vaughan, Megan. Creating the Creole Island: Slavery in Eighteenth-century Mauritius. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. 

 

---. "Slavery and Colonial Identity in Eighteenth-Century Mauritius." Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 8 (1998): 189-214. Accessed November 4, 2020. doi:10.2307/3679294.

Tales of the Ten Princes

Reading so much prose fiction from the ancient Greek world and the Roman Empire has pushed me to the east, to enjoy fiction from India and other parts of Asia. While it is not a novel, Dandin's Tales of the Ten Princes uses the frame story of Rajahavana reuniting with his fellow allies as they plan to defeat the king who unseated Rajahamsa, his father. As each prince (descendants of other kings or royal ministers to Rajavahana's father) reunites with Rajavahana, they regale him (and the reader) with their various exploits, ruses, adventures, battles, and supernatural encounters across the Indian subcontinent. 

Not surprisingly, like the various inset tales in Apuleius's The Golden Ass other works of fiction from the Greco-Roman world, many of Dandin's tales here revolve around magic, banditry, trickery, love at first sight, forest tribes, court intrigue, courtesans, proper conduct (or lackthereof), and merchants (there are allusions to Chinese silk, and even Greek sailors and merchants) with access to great wealth and exotic goods. Moreover, Kama, the Indian Eros or Cupid, is constantly invoked and present in the text, much as in the Greek romances. Indeed, various references to Hindu sacred texts, Jains, Buddhists, ascetics, and the pantheon of gods makes it clear that a proper understanding of this text requires a deep immersion into Indian history, epics, and religion. Similarly, one requires such a background to understand many of the allusions in the Greek romances, but the Western reader will already possess some of the requisite background knowledge.

Since most of the princes engage in various forms of immoral conduct or trickery, including sleeping with a married woman in one case, to gain their kingdom, the narrative seems to gain much of its humor and traction from the contradiction between proper ethics and the reality of lived experience. These characters are far less noble than the lovers of Greek romances, but one cannot help but admire and enjoy their misdeeds and adventures. Unfortunately, some of the tales repeat the same types of ruses and the convoluted stories within stories within another story structure can lead to confusion. Perhaps fewer princes and more attention on Rajavahana would have created a more compelling central thread, as in the case of Lucius in The Golden Ass. Nontheless, it is an engaging work that takes the reader on a journey across the various social classes, castes, kingdoms, and beliefs of India in the 7th century, and perhaps an Eastern variant of the picaresque tales of Western fiction. 

Dark Princess

W.E.B. Du Bois's Dark Princess is not a great novel. It suffers from awkward, sometimes clunky prose and some rather unbelievable characters in this ideologically fascinating tale. As an example of 1920s Harlem Renaissance literature, however, it shares some of the same interests in black internationalism and protest while oscillating between the masses and the elites as the path forward for human redemption. Telling the tale of a frustrated black medical student, Matthew Towns, and an Indian princess eager to see a free India (and a free world for all the "colored" races), the novel shifts in setting between Berlin, New York, Chicago, and Virginia to weave the story of the love and romance of a black descendant of slaves and an "Eastern" monarch, descendant of the 'Black Buddha'  in a dynasty in Bwodpur, India. In accompaniment to the budding romance between Matthew and Kautilya, Matthew works as a Pullman Porter, politician in the corrupt Chicago machine political system, and as a digger or manual laborer for a subway tunnel. Meanwhile, Kautilya struggles as a laborer in the US and experiences first-hand American racism and class exploitation (although experiences with British racism predated the US variant).

In terms of its pairing of black internationalism with Global South anti-imperialism, the novel fittingly combines an interest in socialist critiques of capitalism with anti-racist fervor and collaboration as the path to a renewed world. African Americans, too, through Matthew, are proof of the pivotal role Black American can play in restructuring world politics to undermine European and American imperialism. Like, say, the Haitian Ray in Claude McKay's Home to Harlem, Kautilya and the various Indian, Arab, Japanese, Chinese, and Egyptian characters who appear in Dark Princess represent the oppressed "colored" races in struggle against European/Euro-American hegemony. For Du Bois, however, the spiritual and political union of non-whites is best encapsulated in the union of Matthew and Kautilya, who, despite coming from different worlds, offer the promise in almost messianic tones of a utopian post-colonial world, symbolized by the birth of Madhu. With Kautilya's praise of Soviet Russia and the anti-imperial, anti-racist coalition of Pan-Asia and Pan-Africa, Du Bois is offering a socialist vision for an ideal future (and before he was an avowed Communist!) that combines his seemingly contradictory elitism and democratic inclinations.

One of the interesting aspects of the novel is the pairing of Eastern, Western, and even African American religion and spirituality. Matthew's rendition of the Negro spiritual, for instance, is awe-inspiring for the Asian, Arab, Indian, and Egyptian attendees of his Berlin meeting with Kautilya (now, the "vulgar blues" in Harlem cabarets, on the other hand, did not appeal to Du Bois). Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic allusions abound, even suggesting Krishna, Radha, and Kali as representing respectively Matthew, Kautilya, and Matthew's mother. Furthermore, while visiting Matthew's mother, Kautilya experiences some of the African-derived religious influences through references to Shango and "voodoo." Since Du Bois thought so highly of the Negro spiritual and African American spirituality, perhaps African American religion and spiritual expression is tied to the black gift thesis. Perhaps, part of the African American and black contribution to the liberation of Africa and Asia will lie in this moral element, to paraphrase Blyden. However, Du Bois's vision is all-encompassing, including ancient Asian civilizations as well as modern European technology and arts to arrive at their ideal democratic aristocracy. But this is an ecumenical vision with room for Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and, perhaps, African "traditional" religion.

As a romance involving African Americans and Indians, this Dark Princess is also intriguing as an example of black-Indian relations and literary engagements. South Asians were living in Harlem and marrying black or Puerto Rican women since the 1920s, so Du Bois was perhaps familiar with or knew of Bengali and other South Asians living or working in Harlem. Although most of these South Asians were likely males, Du Bois, may have been inspired by or influenced by actual relationships between South Asians and African Americans in Harlem. The use of India in his romantic imagination, as well as his fanciful construct of a 'Black India' with ancient civilizations and philosophy likely resonated with his own Afrocentric vision of Africa's great past, suggesting a reunion of 'Black India' and Africa as the two wings of a singular bird. For example, Firmin and other black intellectuals before Du Bois also claimed the Buddha as black and imaginatively construed Indian civilizations as part of a wider black history. One also wonders about potential resonances with later literary works involving Black America and India. Ishmael Reed's satire, Conjugating Hindi, similarly offers an alliance between Indians and Black Americans. The film, Mississippi Masala, is even more similar as it involves an Indian woman falling in love with an African American male in the US South. Like the Indian woman in the film, Kautilya faced resistance from her Bwodpur advisers and bodyguards for pursuing Matthew and the American Negro question. 

All in all, Dark Princess is a fascinating and worthwhile read not for its literary value or style. As mentioned previously, it can be awkward and at times read more like a political essay. However, the variety of ideas, themes, and emotions explored across its pages provokes the reader into reconsidering Du Bois as a writer, intellectual, strategist, and man. As an example of interwar literature reflecting "Eastern" characters and ideas, it refreshingly avoids the concept of a utopian India against a decadent West. Du Bois was too sophisticated for that kind of thinking. "Black" Orientalism could not be the same as that of Du Bois's white contemporaries. But in its messianic overtones, the novel is also profoundly spiritual. Maybe, inf one may be so bold, the novel almost predicts a Madhu-like Martin Luther King who will combine the best of the American Negro and that of the "East" (Gandhi, India, nonviolent resistance). 

Les Indiens de Guadeloupe

A short video on Indian migration to Guadeloupe. 

Conjugating Hindi

Ishmael Reed's Conjugating Hindi is a hilarious work of satire clearly modeled on his past novels, particularly Japanese by Spring. A story inspired by Indian-American right-wingers like Dinesh D'Souza and the current political climate under Trump, it involves hysterical xenophobia and racism directed against India and its Diaspora after a politically assertive prime minister, Si, is blamed for a destroyed plane. The self-hating and racist Indian conservative commentator, Shashi, is forced to depend on Peter Bowman, or Boa, during this time until the situation cools down.

Along the way, Ishmael Reed inserts himself into the novel (unafraid to mock himself or the wounds of aging on his body), consistently criticizes gentrification in Oakland and rails against the Far Reich presidency (clearly an allusion to Trump), intersectionality, white feminism, and the racist practices of non-white immigrants who leap to join America's oldest pastime: putting down blacks. Reading this novel as someone who has never visited Oakland, it is apparent how devoted Reed is to the city and preserving its past and unique culture. 

While a thrilling and very concise work of satirical fiction, I was a little disappointed by this recent Red novel. First of all, it reads too much like Ishmael Reed's articles in Counterpunch or his social media accounts. While I usually enjoy those, I was expecting something more subtle instead of many lines that almost read exactly like his nonfiction. Expecting more distance between the author and the work, one nevertheless cannot help but enjoy the way Reed inserts himself into the story as well as a character from Japanese by Spring. 

However, the constant references or parodies of Hamilton and other lines inspired by Reed's earlier essays took away from developing the Si storyline. It never really goes anywhere, despite Si threatening a no fly zone over London and international tensions between the US and India. Moreover, Boa's mother is introduced into the story, but disappears, although I would like to think she may have played a role in the killing of Si. Instead of an off the rails wackiness, we get a wacky narrative featuring Maman Brigitte, racial stereotypes, and a growing awareness on the part of Shashi and Boa to their understandings of India, the US, and solidarity between oppressed peoples.

Of course, Conjugating Hindi is still worth reading. It provides a hilarious satirical perspective on the frightening political climate our of time. Reed's numerous rants, expressed through Boa, deliciously skewer white liberal sensibilities, deconstruct gentrification, critique the out of control costs of living in the Bay Area, and unpack the troubled racial, gender, and cultural dilemmas at play in India, the desi communities of the US and African-Americans. Considering the rise of Trump, resurgent alt-right voices, and the demographic shifts in the US, almost everything in this novel is disturbingly possible and relevant. Plus, it brings a smile to this reader's face to see Reed bring back in a clever yet outrageous manner the neo-Hoodoo/Vodun aesthetic. His illustrations accompanying the novel are also entertaining, provocative, and enhance the trickster aesthetic of the work. 

The Razor's Edge

One can see immediately the appeal of Maugham's The Razor's Edge. There is much humor through the "arch-snob" Elliot, who I like to see as a Frasier or Niles kind of character. We have a rich spiritual and philosophical discourse through Larry's search for meaning, social mores of the US and French characters, and Maugham's self-insertion into the text for much appreciated commentary and order. Like Greene's The End of the Affair, Maugham's presence within the text makes it more relatable and seemingly "real" to the reader. One cannot help but feel that one is on this journey of Maugham, who also traveled to India and modeled some of the characters and experiences on his own time there. Indeed, Naipaul alludes to this in great later novel, Half a Life, which inspired me to read Maugham. And in contrast to what I was led to believe about this novel's impact on the Beats and the generation of the 1960s, which it certainly hints at, Maugham avoids the romanticized or extremely problematic exoticized Western exploitation of "India" as the fount of spiritual redemption or force.

In fact, Maugham's character, the narrator, is never quite sure if Larry did indeed achieve union with the Absolute (Illumination), and the "mystical Orient" did not answer all of his questions. Does the novel reinforce cultural stereotypes? Yes, but not to the absurd degree future writers accomplished. Since India itself does not become an important part of the novel until much later in the text, I read it as a particularly clever and witty critique of Western society in the interwar years, especially the American obsession with growth and their belief in an infallible future of greatness. The obsession with success, status, and, excess, in the US, London, France, and Germany appears to drive the novel, yet one cannot help but feel that the author's conclusion is a call for a form of tolerance or coexistence of individualized expressions of a "successful life," perhaps a match to the ambiguity surrounding Larry's alleged union with the Absolute.

Kureishi's Last Word

"Literature was a killing field; no decent person ever picked up a pen." 

Hanif Kureishi's postmodern novel, ostensibly based on Patrick French's biography of V.S. Naipaul, is a worthwhile read for all devotees of Naipaul. However, those expecting Mamoon and his biographer, Harry, to overwhelmingly resemble their "real-life" inspiration, will be a little disappointed. What is fascinating about Kureishi's novel is how he suspends judgment, focusing on the thin line between fact and fiction, not to mention fact and reality (yes, that's a thing, not just a reference to a time I mispoke at a dinner). As a work full of humor and numerous references to allegedly factual occurrences in Naipaul's life, especially regarding his infamous relationship with women in his life and his troubling position as a brown colonial often perceived as adopting racist positions, Kureishi's prose is surprisingly dull and almost uninspired, but the novel's successful for revealing how, like that famous Naipaul quotation indicates, fiction never lies. Perhaps a film adaptation should be attempted for Kureishi's novel, which strikes me as an excellent idea given that Kureishi's fiction writing always struck me as better fit for film, much like The Buddha of Suburbia movie. 

The Last Word

Hanif Kureishi discusses his novel, The Last Word. Although I'm only about halfway through, I find some of prose and dialogue uninspired and dull, but fascinating for fictionalizing Patrick French's biography of V.S. Naipaul. As someone who appreciates Kureishi's screenplays more than his novels, it's refreshing to see him tackle postmodern biography. All fans of Naipaul should read this book. 

Letters Between a Father and Son

V.S. Naipaul's Letters Between A Father and Son is the most humanising and intimate portrait of Naipaul one could possibly read. Theroux's book and French's biography reveal much of the monstruous and ugly side of Naipaul's character and life, such as racism, sexism, and the way he treated his first wife. A necessary balance requires reading the correspondence between a young Naipaul at Oxford and his father. Older sister Kamla, studying in India, is also a strong presence as father, son, and daughter encourage each other, try to stay afloat financially, and make a way in the world. One sees how strong Naipaul's father's influence was on his fiction, especially in inculcating literary awareness and ambition. Perhaps the greatest tribute a son could ever make for his father is the magnificent A House for Mr. Biswas. Unfortunately, after three years of trying to make sense of burgeoning adulthood and adapting to England, Naipaul loses his father and the reader has, by that time, entered into the daily tribulations of the family. 

The striking thing about young Naipaul, at least the Naipaul he chose to express to his father and sister, is how astonishingly from a very young age, he was already exhibiting signs of arrogance, misogyny, disdain for America, ambition, and loathing of Trinidad. He writes about the need to best the English at their own language, casually uses the 'N-word' when hearing about a relation's dalliance with a dougla, and even feels comfortable asserting his superiority to Jane Austen while still an undergraduate! His arrogance allows him to even tell Selvon what a novelist does while writing to his father that Selvon and Mittelholzer were horrible writers! Already, even before leaving Oxford, young Vidia was trying to avoid the fate for those who allow themselves to become nothing, even urging his father, mother, and sisters to avoid too much reliance on some of their Capildeo kin. As a writer who has seamlessly weaved so much of his personal life into his fiction, from Mr. Biswas to Half a Life, the letters contained here are invaluable for revealing the thin line between fact and fiction. 

Magic Seeds

"In spite of all the killings, the movement was becoming more and more a matter of these abstract words."

Naipaul's sequel to Half a Life, Magic Seeds, his most recent work of fiction, is underwhelming compared to the interesting plot and earlier life of the protagonist, Willie Chandran. In this sequel, Willie decides to follow his sister's advice and joins the guerrillas in the Indian countryside, drifting for several more years until being imprisoned as a political prisoner, his early 1950s "postcolonial literature" saving his hide as Roger, still in London, is able to get Willie released. Back in London, Willie continues to drift. This is essentially the entirety of the story, with the "meat" set in India amongst a dangerous group of "revolutionaries" who are not aligned with the Kandapalli's group, which his sister Sarojini, had meant for Willie to join. 

The only character from the prequel who actually succeeds in meeting his goals is Marcus, the West African who finally achieves success by having a white grandchild, while Roger is on the path to perdition and Willie reaches a typical Naipaulian conclusion: "It is wrong to have an ideal view of the world." Similar themes abound: the disconnect between the Indian guerrillas and the peasants they exploit in the name of revolution, the unreality of human connection, intimate or otherwise, decay in the postcolonial areas, decline in London (council estate houses, the alleged dependency they breed, according to Roger), a general state of unraveling, of unreality.

Since Naipaul has previously explored guerrillas in a novel with the same name, based on the Black Power movement in the West Indies, this novel, which focuses on a more explicitly Marxist-Leninist group of revolutionaries, brings to mind some critiques of Sendero Luminoso. The revolutionaries Willie joins in the Indian countryside cling to the fiction of fighting for the peasants, for a revolution inspired by Marx, Lenin, and Mao, but the reality of the peasants and their different aspirations contradict them at every turn. 

In the end, the guerrillas become another exploitative force, taking advantage of the countryside's populace without meeting any success. How can one ever launch a successful revolution when one's forces are killing and exploiting the very group one claims to fight for? It is this contradiction, the elusive goal or "unreality" of revolution which plagues the Indian movement Willie joins. In typical Naipaul fashion, Africa is, though acknowledged as a site of colonialism, is portrayed as better off than India because the Africans "know who they are" while India remembers its ancient past yet lost meaning. Both are "wounded civilizations" nonetheless.