Although we must revisit this work and engage in a deeper reading of the different recorded versions of Soninke oral traditions on Wagadu, Germaine Dieterlen's L'Empire de Ghana: le Wagadou et les traditions de Yéréré raises a number of intriguing questions about the extent we can reconstruct this distant past. Beginning with a translation of Diarra Sylla's rendition of this past as a gessere, Dieterlen then provides additional context and attempts a wider analysis of the ancient empire of Ghana (Wagadu). To some extent, she drew on the ethnographic present as well as cultural practices and rites among the Bambara, Dogon, and other West African peoples. This makes her interpretation of the institutions, social structure, and culture of Wagadu necessarily speculative.
In spite of some of these pitfalls in researching a period in pre-colonial West African history that is only partly covered in external Arabic sources, Dieterlen confirmed some of our own past theories. For instance, a cult of sorts to the vulture and hyena was part of the Soninke ritual calendar. According to Dieterlen, on the second moon of the Soninke's calendar, the wage (noble clans) gathered with their gessere to offer sacrifices to the hyena, an animal tied to their oath to Kaya Maga. Remember, the hyena played a role in assisting Diabe in Soninke tradition. There was also a special regard for the fox, it being a taboo for wage to kill this particular animal. Even the dog was the subject of taboos for the wage. For instance, they were not allowed to marry people who ate or sacrificed dogs, presumably due to the dog that accompanied the legendary ancestor, Dinga. One cannot help but wonder if the dogs with collars of gold and fine jewelry in the palace of the Ghana kings was in memory of this? Unsurprisingly, al-Bakri was likely ignorant of this, but informants told him of the palace dogs with richly decorated collars.
Besides these aforementioned taboos, Dieterlen offered some additional information on Kumbi and the Wagadu kingdom. Presumably based on her informant, she reported that Kumbi, the capital, had fifty-one quarters. Koumbi Saleh was allegedly the quarter for the market associated with caravan trade. The imperial quarter was supposedly called Kalaata, presumably the al-Ghaba of al-Bakri. There was even a quarter or section associated with the gessere. A glimpse of the different social classes or ranks in Wagadu can be seen in the description of four types of royal drums. Essentially, the major groups were the nobles, clan chiefs, slaves, and the people (commoners?). A distinct drum was used to call each of these types of residents in the capital city. Although it is difficult to see where the number of fifty-one quarters or neighborhoods came from, the number is probably meant to be symbolic or merely to suggest a huge concentration of people living within a larger capital district. That is very likely to have been true, as al-Bakri's description of the capital as two cities, one for Muslims and another for the king, with continuous habitations between, fits this.
In terms of the administration of the state, Dieterlen provided additional clues. The Koussa, for instance, participated in collecting gold for the king. Other Koussa were Koussa Tounkara, who assisted in organizing official ceremonies for the rulers of Wagadu. Another role attached to spiritual powers like access to ancestors through trance and the fabrication of ritual objects began with Djourou Tandjigo, an artisan in the times of Diabe. In addition, there were fade and hida, the governors or chiefs of provinces within Wagadu. Dumbe and djuwara were said to have been generals or military leaders. The Cisse clan which allegedly produced the most kings. A number of wage or noble clans were tied to specific provinces or regions, such as a figure remembered as Diamera Sokona, son of a fade named Birama, at Nakhata (interestingly, this figure was also said to have been the first to offer a woman to the Bida snake). Supposedly, control of territories included administration of land, markets, livestock, hunting grounds, and water sources, meaning these administrators had a lot of power over the areas under their remit. As for the military chiefs, Dieterlen suggested that these were the nana, a word possibly distorted in Arabic sources as Ghana.
But what of the known history of Wagadu as a state? Or its dynastic genealogy? Here contradictions abound as different versions of oral traditions disagree on details. Dieterlen presented Wagadu as dominated by the Cisse, beginning with Diabe as the first king based at Koumbi. Inexplicably, there were thirty-three of these Cisse kings before a member of the Toure clan became the 34th king. The Toure, who were associated with the power to control water, seized the kingdom with Moudou Toure at the head. A Muslim, Moudou Toure enjoyed support from some of the local Kakolo clans and Diane and Koma clans. Elsewhere, it is claimed that Madyou Toure was the last to reign, though it is unclear what his relationship was to Moudou Toure. Prior to this, one of the 5 Cisse clans apparently dominated rulership, the Kharesi. But the switch to the Toure may have led to a change in capitals and greater Islamization as the first Muslim kings (in the late 11th century, according to Arabic sources). One may interpret this as the rise to prominence of an Islamic noble clan in Wagadu, evidence of which can be found in external Arabic sources on Wagadu in the 1100s and 1200s. Even Zafun allegedly entered the picture, where the older brother of Diabe left when Diabe succeeded Dinga. This Cisse brother married a woman of the Dyafone clan of Dyafounou, suggesting links between Zafun and Wagadu began early in Ghana's history.
However, a looming question remains. Can one reconcile Dieterlen's reconstruction of the kingdom's past with other sources? Her text includes a few other variants of the Soninke tale of Kumbi and the dispersal from Wagadu after the killing of Bida. Some of these other sources provide a different king list for Wagadu. One named the Wagadu kings as Khaya Makha Sise, Wakane Sakho, Damera Sokhna, Gumane Fade, Sero Khumma (all brothers of Diabe, the first king). Then leadership passed to the family of D'ariso, beginning a new line of kings: Kambine, Suleyman, Bannabubu, Wagadu Makha II, Gane, Musa, Biramu, and then a disastrous civil war. Needless to say, some of the people considered kings here were supposedly noble governors or warrior leaders in Sylla and Dieterlen's version of events. We also wonder about Biramu, a name which sounds close to Birama. But once the D'ariso lineage succeeded, one notes father to son inheritance (6 generations) and the appearance of Islamic names. If the civil war which followed the reign of Biramu, among his own sons no less, involved a warrior from D'ara in Tiraka, then this could have been the moment of an Islamic faction seizing the throne. Tiraka, after all, had been an important center for trade to Ghana, Tadmakka, and other groups, with a Wangara population also there attested by some external Arabic sources. This raises the legitimate question of how to interpret the dynastic and/or religious change in Wagadu's leadership in the 11th century. It is tempting to see traditions of a Toure clan Muslim becoming king with the support of some elements within the kingdom (and possible support from the Almoravids).
Ultimately, Dieterlen's book raises more questions than it can possibly answer. Yet the connections she makes to other West African cultures and the Soninke ethnographic present can give the reader new ways to think about the history of pre-Islamic Wagadu. The clear role of the "traditional" religion as the legitimizing ideology behind kingship and the worldview of the people, as well as the strong role played by lineage in creating and distributing hierarchies, rank, and identities is worth exploring.
Boubacar Séga Diallo's L’empire du Wagadu: état de la question was rather underwhelming. We were expecting a condensed version of his thesis that draws more heavily on Soninke oral traditions, linguistics, and archaeology to sketch a fuller picture of the historical state of Ghana (Wagadu) known from external Arabic sources. However, the reader mainly receives a summary on the history of Wagadu with occasional references to oral traditions, archaeological evidence from Kumbi or Mali, and some undefended assertions about topics like the antiquity of caste or the prevalence of slavery in ancient Soninke society. Perhaps, if Diallo's thesis is published, the reader can benefit from a West African scholars deep exploration of Soninke tradition in light of other types of evidence. Without that, we are sadly left with a very brief summary that also repeats the typical line of Almoravid victory over Ghana. It would also have been interesting if the author tried to speculate about the magico-religious powers of the rulers of Wagadu and how that shaped the political structure of the state.
One of those interesting cases which produced documentation on the specific origins of an enslaved African in Saint Domingue is the case of Ahyssa. A "Moor" from the northern side of the Senegal River, she was kidnapped and enslaved in the Caribbean. We first read of her in passing, in a work by Haitian historian Jean Fouchard. Her case is interesting for what it says about colonial perceptions of Arabs and non-black Africans, as well as the somewhat detailed account of her background in Africa.
According to a brief extract of the legal proceedings of case, published in a Journal des Causes celebres, Ahyssa came from the Ouled arcalapha tribe of "Moors" living about 80 lieus from the mouth of the Senegal. Her people were herders involved in the gum trade. The records of her case even provide the name of her parents, as well as general details about how the Arabs in her region recognized the authority of the Moroccan sultan. The racialized interpretation of their relations with black Africans south of the Senegal is also repeatedly emphasized, being presented as one driven by primordial animosity. We even learn the specific conditions of her enslavement, which were instigated by a black man, Aly Samba, who guided New England traders into the community of Ahyssa. Apparently, European and Western traders sometimes purchased black slaves from the communities on the other side of the river while buying gum and other goods from the Moors to the north. While initially presenting themselves as traders, the New England bandits raided and pillaged, kidnapping people and stealing. That is how Ahyssa ended up on a ship that carried her to Grenada, in the Antilles. What happened to the other Arabs kidnapped and sold into slavery in Grenada is never addressed.
Ahyssa's owner in the Antilles, a Cassarouy, was partly responsible for her kidnapping in West Africa. He later brought her with him to Martinique and Le Cap, in Saint-Domingue. After becoming ill, he promised her freedom in his 1774 testament. Furthermore, we are led to believe he supposedly never treated like a slave or subjected her to cruel actions. Based on this special treatment, one suspects Cassarouy treated Ahyssa, renamed Colombe, as a concubine or lover. Nonetheless, she found out to her horror that after her master's death, she was to be sold as a slave of the estate of the deceased Cassarouy. With the aid of a curator, she fought this and claimed her freedom as a "Moor" kidnapped from her homeland. Thanks to this, we have records of her case which are replete with details of her capture and her African background. In her case, her specifically non-black origins were a central part of the reason she was not considered legally enslaveable, and therefore deserved to have her emancipation recognized.
Perhaps this case illustrates how, by 1776, racial lines in Saint Domingue had consolidated around more overtly racist ideology that specifically targeted "blackness" as fit for enslavement. Those of Indian (Amerindian) or Arab origin, however, could resist this. In Ahyssa's case, since she was possibly seen as a "mulatto" in Saint-Domingue's racial classificatory scheme, her Moor, or Arab background, were central to buttressing her claim to freedom. This may also explain why the case stresses racial animosity and conflict between Moors, or Arabs, and black Africans of the Senegambian region. The argument in favor of her independence also went into great depth to describe how, despite the occasional resemblance of races like hers with the "mulattoes" of Saint Domingue, a glance at Ahyssa was enough to illustrate that she was not actually one. She was, regardless of how dusky or tawny her skin color may have been, an Arab and the background of hostility between her people and black Africans may have been utilized in her case to stress this by Moreau de Saint-Mery. Furthermore, the fact that the English took her captive rather than the French was another point in favor of her liberation, since the French were supposedly more interested in maintaining peaceful relations with the Moors near the Senegal River.
Interestingly, it seems like claiming freedom on the grounds of being Arab did not work so well in the case of "Nar" captives in Louisiana. Labeled by a Wolof term for them, the Arab slaves of Louisiana do not seem to have able to escape their condition based on that argument. And they were sometimes explicitly linked with other "Negroes" among the captive slaves in Louisiana, despite occasionally being referred to as red or lighter-skinned. Midlo Hall's database on slaves in Louisiana is an excellent resource to learn more about the "Nar" or "Nards" in Louisiana.
One of the early West African states whose rulers converted to Islam at an early date was Takrur, located in the Middle Senegal Valley. Takrur became so well-known in Egypt and the Middle East that the name of their kingdom became a common appellation for the entirety of the "Western Sudan." Yet, despite Takrur being well-known to informed persons in Egypt, Syria, and North Africa from at least the 11th century onwards, surprisingly little is known of it. Prior to al-Bakri there does not appear to be any extant Arabic records that explicitly allude to the kingdom of Takrur. Yet archaeological evidence suggests the rise of polities along the Senegal River by the 500s, with ties to long-distance trade, iron metallurgy, riverine resources, and salt. Evidence of camel remains in the Senegal River Valley also suggest possibly ancient forms of trans-Saharan contact, or at least movement of peoples and goods from the southern Sahara to the Sahel and savanna. This period, perhaps corresponding with the early Jaa Ogo dynasty of Takrur, may have consolidated through iron metallurgy and this intra-regional trade.
Part of the problem for Takrur may be Ghana overshadowing it, despite Takrur's conversion to Islam before Ghana. Ghana was mentioned first in external Arabic sources, and although Takrur was never subdued by Ghana, the latter kingdom may have been the more powerful with better connections to the sources of gold used in trans-Saharan contact. One also suspects that Takrur, located on the western end of the Sudanic region, may have suffered from its more peripheral location with regards to the movement of goods from West Africa to the Maghrib and Egypt. Takrur, and other parts of the Senegal River Valley, would also later fall under the domination of Mali, and may have been important for access to sea salt as an additional source besides Saharan mines. Unfortunately, the number of primary sources which could shed light on the nature of Takrur and its trading partners is restricted to the external Arabic sources which point to ties with the "Lamlam" (victims of Takrur slave raids), Awdaghust, Awlil, and traders from the east and north (Arabs and Berbers were also active in towns under Takrur, including the eponymous capital and Silla.
However, surprisingly, little attention has been paid to Takrur's access to sea salt and coastal trade with North Africa. Due to the paucity of sources, one cannot ascertain to what extent this actually occurred, but Takrur was intimately linked to Awlil and, presumably, the island of Ayuna, a source of sea salt, ambergris, and turtle meat located somewhere on the mouth of the Senegal River or Mauritanian coast. Since Takrur was known for the export of gold and slaves, one would think some of these exports would have traveled west along the Senegal River to Awlil, where ships from the Maghrib were said to have visited. Indeed, Arabic sources allude to Awlil as the last point ships from the Maghrib traveled to, implying it was a well-known anchorage and presumably engaging in trade with the local Banu Gudala Berbers. For example, the Kital al-Istibsar of the 12th century makes this clear:
There is a salt mine also in the land of the Gudala at a place called Walili on the coast of the Ocean and from there it is carried by caravan to the neighboring countries. Near Walili in the sea is an island called Ayuna. At high tide it may be reached only by boats, but at low tie it may be reached on foot. Much ambergris is found there. The people there mainly live on the flesh of turtles, which are very abundant in that place and are so extremely large that a man may get into the shell (mahar) taken from a turtle's back and go fishing in the seas, as in a boat (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 142).
This same source mentions the island of Ayuna as "the farthest point reached by ships and the last anchorage in the Maghrib." And while it points to the salt from "Walili" being traded overland, earlier sources, mainly al-Idrisi, point to the use of river boats to transport salt:
The Island of Awlil is in the sea near the coast. The famous salt deposit is there. No other salt deposit is known in the land of the Sudan. The salt is carried from there to all the towns of the Sudan. Boats come to this island, and the salt is loaded on them. The boats then go to the mouth of the Nil, which is one day's run from the island. They then proceed up the Nile to Sila, Takrur, Barisa, Ghana, and the other towns of Wanqara and Kugha as well as to all the towns of the Sudan" (Corpus of Early Arabic Sources, p. 106-107).
While secondary sources seem to disagree on when or if Takrur ever directly seized control of Awlil, al-Idrisi places the town of Awlil in the lands of the Maqzara of the Sudan. Ibn Sa'id also quoted al-Idrisi's statement, indicating the use of ships to carry salt from Awlil up the Senegal River. Of course, al-Idrisi's conception of every West Africa town lying along the "Nile" was incorrect, but he was probably correct in the use of ships from Awlil to carry salt directly to the "Land of the Blacks," which would have required it to pass through lands controlled by the kingdom of Takrur, which dominated Sila, Barisa, and, by the 13th century, Qalanbu (possibly the ancient kingdom of Galam), a well-known river port. One would assume the ancient town of Sanghana, consisting of two towns on both banks of the Senegal River, and said by al-Bakri to be closest to the Banu Gudala territory, fell under the rule of Takrur.
One would think the rulers of Takrur would have endeavored to benefit from a coastal trade route to their west as well as the more well-known overland routes to Awdaghust and beyond. Al-Bakri and others mention Awlil as a source of salt for Awdaghust's trade with the lands to the south, and probably the source of Awdaghust's ambergris trade. Why not also trade gold, slaves, ivory, cotton, and other commodities along the Senegal River, dominated by Takrur, to the west to Awlil, where ships from the Mediterranean could transfer goods to the Maghrib and beyond? This would have allowed Takrur access to goods from the north without relying solely on Awdaghust or Ghana and its trading network to the east. Moreover, it may have increased the reputation of the kingdom as a source for gold from Bambuk and other lands without the costly trans-Saharan journey.
Unfortunately, none of the Arabic sources are sufficiently clear to establish a regular coastal trade at Awlil that linked Takrur to the Mediterranean. Indeed, some of the sources suggest a possible pre-Islamic trade that connected Takrur to the mysterious Qamnuriya "Sudan" to the north, using ancient overland trade routes. Besides, other accounts of shipwrecks of mariners from the Mediterranean along the western coast of Africa seem to indicate that it was not very common for mariners to travel beyond southern Morocco. If, indeed, they regularly visited Awlil by the Senegal River, one would assume more sources could attest to this. Perhaps archaeological excavations in the region will shed light on this, as well as more research into the Banu Gudala. For instance, one of the tales of lost sailors mentions Banu Gudala, who did not seem too shocked by the presence of sailors on their coast. Moreover, a mention of "Tochoron" in a 14th century Iberian book on the known kingdoms of the world mentions travel to the West African coast from North Africa, to reach the "River of Gold" (the Senegal and Niger rivers, which were believed to be connected to the Nile). While the text describes a fictional journey around the known world, its author was clearly well-informed, and perhaps was not entirely fabricating details about West Africa, the Senegal River and trading ships. "Tochoron" or 'Takrur does appear in the text, but the narrative describes an overland route to get there across the Sahara. Nevertheless, Takrur should still have been a leading power along the Senegal River Valley, and probably closely linked to any trading activities at the mouth of the Senegal River or nearby coastal regions, which might explain why "Tochoror" appeared on European maps as early as 1339.
Sometimes Youtube can be useful. Like in this case, where this young lady's basic overview of the ancient kingdom (empire) of Ghana indicates someone who actually did their research. I have spent much of the last 48 hours going over secondary sources on this kingdom, the Soninke people, and English or French translations of Arabic sources on the history of the region. Even with advances in West African archaeology in Mali, Mauritania and nearby regions, I am amazed by how little we still know about Ghana (or, Wagadu), at least for eras prior to the rise of Islam. Can one really trace the origins of the state to agropastoralist stone masonry villages in Dhar Tichitt and related Mauritanian sites? There does seem to be evidence that some Mande groups once lived further north before the progress of the desert. Further, the evidence of Ghana itself, although more archaeological work remains to be done in the Awkar and nearby regions, do suggest a plausible origin sometime from the 4th to 6th centuries. Either way, by the time of the 8th century, Ghana was probably already the main source of gold for Sijilmasa, and the institutions associated with such a trade would not have appeared overnight.
But when going through the Arabic sources, one does arrive at some interesting theories of Ghana's origins. When used carefully with oral sources, they provide a picture of sorts of Soninke origins. The Timbuktu chronicles like Tarikh al-Fattash and its other Timbuktu counterpart suggest Ghana's existence predated Islam by at least a few centuries, and they attribute the origins of the kayamaga dynasty to "white" origin. This may reflect the fact that a 12th century king of Ghana, according to al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the family of the Prophet Muhammad. Or, it could indicate some degree of ancient intermarriage between Berbers and proto-Soninke peoples in the ancient past. Intriguingly, in the 11th century, al-Bakri mentioned at least two groups of "whites" living under the suzerainty of Ghana who were described as following their religion ("idolatry"). In one case, the "El Honeihim" whites were sent to the "land of the blacks" sometime after the Arab conquests in the Maghreb, but its possible the other group, identified as El Faman, may have been established in the region before. In addition to "whites" described as residing in the "Sudan," the Soninke kingdom of Ghana appears to have dominated the predominantly Berber and Arab trading entrepot of Awdaghust for some time in the 10th and 11th centuries, revealing the interest of Ghana in controlling the Saharan and Sahelian networks in trade to Sijilmasa and other parts of the Maghreb. If al-Bakri is to be trusted, the Berber and Arab residents of Awdaghust did not get along, so the representative of Ghana may have served as an intermediary between Berber, Arab and "Sudanese" residents in that bustling commercial town.
Clearly, there were "whites" (presumably Berbers) who were assimilated into local West African cultures, albeit one is described as endogamous in their marriage customs. This shows that any "whites" who were involved with the origins of Ghana were likely people who adopted aspects of local culture rather than initiating centralized kingdoms of states. They may have been descendants of the cultural syncretism that some archaeologists argue appeared in Mauritania after 500 BC, when the Libyco-Berber presence is attested in the Dhar Tichitt, Walata, and associated areas. The old-fashioned Hamitic Hypothesis has been disproved countless times, but there likely was some degree of cultural exchange and influences between sedentary agriculturalists and pastoralists in Mauritania and Mali before Ghana's emergence.
Moreover, al-Bakri's account of Ghana's monarch and religion does not indicate any sort of "white" origin. Certainly, there is even far less evidence for Delafosse's "Jewish" theory of the origins of Ghana. If Jews from Cyrenaica had settled in the Awkar or other heartlands of the Ghana empire ca. 150-200 AD, establishing the kingdom by the year 300, one would imagine they would have left behind evidence in terms of synagogues, inscriptions, religion, or ritual objects in the Sahel or southern Sahara. Jewish populations were definitely present in the region several centuries later, after the increase in the scale of trans-Saharan trade. Another fanciful theory might attempt to link the origins of Ghana to Egypt or Nubia, but one would think evidence of such contacts should appear in the archaeological record. However, al-Bakri's description of royal funerary customs and the discovery of elite burials in the forms of tumuli in Mali and Senegal do suggest kings were buried with their possessions and some of their human servants, a custom that appeared on the Nile Valley thousands of years previously. This in itself proves nothing, however, and one finds no indication of Egyptian or Nubian deities in the territories associated with Ghana.
Last, but certainly not least, one has the problematic origin theories of Frobenius, who saw a connection to the lost civilization of Atlantis in ancient "Black Africa." Through stories like "Gassire's Lute" and Frobenius's influential writings, he appears to have invented the idea of an epic cycle of stories of the Soninke, and wishes to connect them to his wider theories. While the Legend of Wagadu does indeed exist among Soninke populations dispersed across a large swathe of West Africa, and some of the oral traditions clearly reflect Islamization in their desire to trace the origin of Dinga to the Middle East, there is no evidence for an epic tradition akin to Frobenius's description. Undoubtedly, there is no evidence for ancient Atlantis or much of any contact between the Soninke and the Mediterranean world before the 8th century.
As for the Arab ancestry of the 12th century Muslim king of Ghana identified by al-Idrissi, that is clearly a significant change from the "pagan" kings described in the 1000s. According to al-Bakri, kings like Basi and Tunkamenin were friendly with Muslims and included them in the royal administration. But besides the mention of one of Basi's son possibly being a Muslim, there is no evidence of significant penetration of Islam among the royalty of Ghana in the 11th century. Silla, a town identified by al-Bakri as resisting Ghana and having a Muslim king, may point to another example of a Soninke ruler converting to Islam. A century later, however, the kings of Ghana were affiliated with Islam and, per al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the Prophet's family. However, claims of sharifian descent are not unheard of among converted peoples. It only reveals the extent to which the king of Ghana and his Muslim contemporaries saw him as part of Islam.
However, the interplay of oral and written traditions of the Soninke and local chronicles do support some of the Arabic sources from al-Bakri onwards. For instance, one of the named kings of the 11th century, Tunkamenin, suggests a Soninke origin for the ruling dynasty. The title tunka among the Soninke signifies royalty, perhaps indicating al-Bakri combined the Soninke title with the name of the king. Soninke oral traditions also speak of a serpent associated with the fortune of the kingdom. Al-Bakri describes such a custom among an affiliated group in the Ghana kingdom (perhaps a Soninke sub-group). Furthermore, many of the towns along the Senegal, Faleme, and Niger rivers identified in the medieval Arabic sources appear in Soninke oral traditions of their dispersal from Wagadu. The patronymic clan names, serpent Bida, and other oral sources attest to the veracity of some of the North African, Iberian, and Middle Eastern geographies and reports.
Moreover, the Timbuktu chronicles suggest the fall of the kayamaga (one of the titles of the rulers of Ghana after conflict with a group affiliated with a lower caste, servile origin, or ignoble roots. This may indicate the fall of the kayamaga after conflict with one of the "slaves of the state" lineages or caste groups. Perhaps the fall of the so-called Cisse dynasty represents the end of a
non-Muslim line of kings, assuming the oral traditions are reliable on
this point. But the line of kayamaga identified in the Tarikh al-Fattash suggest
an end of their dynasty around the 7th or 8th century, identifying their last prince as Kanissa'ai. If true, were the kayamaga identified in the
chronicle an early dynasty that was replaced by the Cisse? If the kayamaga line ended by the 7th or 8th century, they
were certainly non-Muslim and perhaps the usurpers may have been of a
servile lineage or caste group who decimated the old aristocracy.
Although very limited and relying on oral sources to describe events centuries before their 17th century context, the Timbuktu chronicles do give us the capital of Ghana (Kumbi) and point to some type of conflict that may have reflected the impact of new ideas or intensified social relations (slavery, Islam, Mande caste systems, an expansion of Soninke trading diasporas?). Tamari's essay on the origins of the Mande caste system argues that it emerged among the Malinke peoples prior to the Soninke, appearing among the former by the 13th century. I would argue that it's probably older, and if the example of Ghana was a model of sorts to successor empires, there probably was some form of occupational castes among the Soninke during the period of Ghana. The caste system and Soninke social structure of the ethnographic present might demonstrate that Ghana's social structure consisted of free-born nobles, warriors, chiefs, traders, farmers, caste groups, and slaves. Perhaps the predecessor to the marabouts in pre-Islamic times were the priests of the "traditional" religion, associated with the "idols," ancestor veneration, secret societies, divination and rites. If the kayamaga line ended in the first century of Islam, there may have already been dynastic change before the appearance of Ghana on the world scene, caused in part by servile populations such as the Kusa (slaves of the state) or conflict over control of the expanding trans-Saharan trade.
What this tells us about Ghana before the 8th or 9th century, I am not sure. Yet, the pre-Islamic foundations of the state appear quite clear, even predating evidence for trans-Saharan trade. It is only in the 12th century when evidence for Muslim kings among the royal dynasty appear, although some of the royalty and chiefs may have converted in the 11th century. Of course, the cousin of Tunkamenin identified as a ruler of Alouken, said to be a Muslim, had to hide his religion from his subjects. If true, this suggests that the Soninke rulers had to, at least publicly, support the "traditional" religion. But in order to control the distribution of gold from the south, impose a system of taxation, and demand tribute from subject towns or polities under its hegemony, there must have been political, economic, and social organization of some magnitude. By the 11th century, literate Muslims were involved in the administration, but one can surmise there already was something akin to Mande occupational castes for ironworkers, leatherworkers, and other occupations on the village level. Presumably, masons, weavers, craftsmen and other groups existed in the towns to produce the stone buildings in the royal city, but they might not have been organized into caste groups, if Djenne and Timbuktu exemplify a regional trend.
There probably were slaves of the king who may have served as local administrators or agricultural workers, while the majority of the population would have been "free" farmers or cultivators. Soninke traders must have also been on the move in southeastern Mauritania, the lands along the Senegal River, and the Inland Niger Delta relatively early on to ensure the distribution of gold from alluvial deposits in the south. Since Ghana did not directly control gold production, it is difficult to say who the people panning for gold were. Seasonal workers? As for the military of Ghana, al-Bakri's mention of 200,000 soldiers is impossible to verify. It also conflicts with his statement the land of Ghana was poorly peopled, unless the bulk of the soldiers came from lands further south among tributary towns. However, it does indicate the likely power and military might of the state, even if it was probably not a standing army. Either way, this military apparatus would have depended on an adequate supply of food, horses, arrows, spears, and other weapons, suggesting some degree of centralization to ensure distribution and security along trade routes.
Since the royal town, perhaps Kumbi, was affiliated with the "traditional" religion of "idolatry," ancestor veneration, sacrificial offerings, massive groves, and the massive mound burials of the royalty, religion must have played a role in legitimating the king's authority. According to ak-Bakri, the ruling king before Tunkamenin was blind, but had to hide it from his subjects. This could reflect a belief in the king's body as sacred or infallible. The Islamic influence prior to the 12th century must have been mostly concentrated in the towns and cities, but it is possible that Islamic-derived divination practices may have already exerted some influence on local practices among the Soninke. Some of the trading diasporas of the Soninke (Wangara?) may have been early converts to Islam, too. Whether or not the religion had any appeal to commoners or rural areas is unknown, but may have coexisted rather peacefully with local religions. If the conversion of some of the ruling elite to Islam weakened the dynasty's authority, it may have paved the way for factional conflict by the time of the Almoravid dynasty, and eventual fall ca. 1203 to the Sosso. It certainly would have required an adaptation or modification of earlier notions of royal authority, but the later Mali kings of the 13th century and 14th century appear to have combined local sources of royal authority with their Muslim religion. Indeed, if the Arabic sources can be trusted, an early Muslim king of Mali went so far as to destroy the idols of his "pagan" subjects, but retained his royal position.
So, what do we really know about early Ghana? It is likely that there was some connection to the Tichitt Tradition in prehistoric Mauritania, but Iron Age sites further south in Mali could prove to be the real origin of the state. There is no evidence whatsoever for a "Hamitic Hypothesis." Nor can one attribute the rise of Ghana to the stimulus of the trans-Saharan trade, although it definitely shaped later developments. The chronology of the ruling dynasty (or dynasties) is also uncertain, but the Soninke are unquestionably tied to it. What "Soninke" meant over 1000 years ago is of course not the same as our modern conception of it, naturally. Identities and languages were presumably fluid, and general similarities in conceptions of the world or social organization among Mande peoples probably indicate a degree of cultural similarity between differing ethnic groups. Ghana's significance as an empire comprised of different states and peoples is a testament to the cultural mosaic of the Sahel, and developments in Ghana also paved the way for transformations that altered the rest of West Africa.
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A friend recently told me about this charming video interview with the man who runs the only music store in Mauritania. Although I am still very much a novice to Sahelian music, I am quite fond of mbalax and some Malian music (I went through a Salif Keita and Tinariwen phase in high school, as well as with some 'desert blues' from the likes of Ali Farka Toure). I mean, who wouldn't love mbalax, such as this lovely gem, from Etoile de Dakar. In countries such as Senegal and Mauritania, one sees a convergence of Cuban, Afro-Caribbean, local rhythms, Islamic influences, blues, and pop that proves itself alluring countless times. I hope to write more about Mauritanian and Senegalese music soon.
I've always been fascinated by Mauritania and the Sahel region of Africa more broadly. My interest in the Almoravids and Sahel-Saharan relations began with my studies of Wagadu/Ancient Ghana, particularly in how foreign academics have tried to label conflicts as rooted in 'racial' differences instead of interrogating local concepts of ethnic difference, religion, and land. One of these days I'll write an overly long post on relationships between Saharan societies (such as Sanhaja Berber groups or Massufa, for instance) and those of ethnic groups in the Sahel and savannas of West Africa (Soninke, Mande, Fula, and many others). This lecture is a little too focused on Islam and religion for my taste, but certainly worth a listen.
