Jesuits in the Kingdom of Prester John

Des jésuites au royaume du prêtre Jean (Ethiopie): stratégies, rencontres et tentatives d'implantation, 1495-1633 by Hervé Pennec is another study of the Jesuits and the mission in Ethiopia. Since the scholarly literature and written sources on the topic is vast, Pennec proposes new interpretations and questions about the subject. While revisiting the sources and challenging readers to reconsider the strategies and tactics employed by both the Jesuits and ruler Susenyos, one can see that the topic of the Jesuits in Ethiopia and this transformation of Prester John of myth into the "real" Ethiopia which the Latin West engaged in the Early Modern Period still raises many questions.

The first third of the book begins with Portugal's early relations with the Christian kingdom of Ethiopia, and how Ignatius of Loyola (and others) mistakenly assumed the Abyssinian ruler was ready to submit to Christ. Relying on outdated information from Alvares, plus the issue of Bermudes and his claim to be Roman Catholic patriarch, confusion abounded. Despite being well-informed on some aspects of Ethiopia, the founder of the Jesuit order wrongly believed that Ethiopia was ready for submission to the papacy. Of course, Galadewos had no interest in doing such a thing, and the early wave of Jesuits in Ethiopia found themselves largely on the periphery. Still, despite their small numbers in the second half of the 16th century, Ethiopian religious literature engaged in a Christological written (and oral) debate with the Jesuit missionaries, particularly once Susenyos converted to Catholicism in 1622. Despite their complete lack of success in converting Ethiopian rulers, the early Jesuits did proselytize and preach to Luso-Ethiopians, maintaining Roman Catholicism among descendants of Portuguese in Abyssinia. Moreover, Goa, as the capital of Portuguese India and center of the Jesuit missions in the Orient, was also an early example of a periphery being arguably more important or essential for the survival of the Jesuit mission in Ethiopia than Rome, Portugal and Spain. Goa, much closer to the Jesuit missions and capable of receiving and sending information more quickly, shaped the decisions on personnel who were ultimately sent to Ethiopia. This was no simple matter, since Ottoman control of the Red Sea made the matter more difficult.

Pennec likewise focuses on how the Jesuits, once able to establish a foothold again in 1603, particularly with the arrival of Pero Paes. Whilst it would take several more years before an Ethiopian ruler converted to Catholicism, one can begin to see here the Jesuits establishing stone churches and residences (with Ethiopian workers and at least one Indian). By erecting churches in stone, some beautifully designed, the Jesuits were implanting themselves in the kingdom on a more permanent basis. By doing so, they were also increasingly drawn into what Pennec sees as royally-sponsored churches. Gifts of land (gult), money, supplies, and the involvement of Susenyos in the ceremony culminating the completion of churches was partly a way for Susenyos to assert his power. This meat that Susenyos, and his brother who converted to Catholicism before him, were incorporating the Jesuits into a familiar patter of royal sponsorship and assertions of power, particularly in Gojjam and around Lake Tana. While the Jesuits undoubtedly benefitted from receiving lands, supplies, funds, and elite backers, they were also part of a strategy of Ethiopian rulers to express their power, which even included enlisting the Jesuits (or the masons among them) to construct stone palaces and monumental architecture for him. This complex process was followed by the Jesuit experience in Ethiopia after the conversion of Susenyos. Part of this complex relationship was also due to Susenyos's desire for Spanish troops to be sent to Ethiopia to help him as a prerequisite for converting, while the Jesuits told him he would have to submit to the papacy before any European troops would come to his aid.

With the 1620s, Pero Paes died but Susenyos's conversion gave the Jesuits their legitimacy and renewed the mission by the arrival of more missionaries. Although a failure within ten years, as Susenyos abdicated and his son, Fasiladas, later exiled the Jesuits, one can see this experience as the zenith of the mission. More missionaries on the ground, conversions of more Ethiopians (although the numbers given by the Jesuits are problematic, it seems that Gojjam had more converts), and Susenyos sidelining his Catholic brother as a supporter of the Catholics. Nonetheless, the mission's short-lived success came to an end with Susenyos's abdication. Pennec's study is less focused on this period, highlighting how Paes and d'Almeida's histories of Ethiopia must be analyzed carefully for the ways in which the authors engaged with Ethiopian written sources, especially the royal chronicle on the reign of Susenyos. Paes especially, despite his nearly 20 years spent in Ethiopia and his familiarity with ge'ez and Amharic, must be interpreted for the ways they cite, paraphrase, and refute Ethiopian sources. For instance, the question of the metropolitan accused of fathering children, drinking, and abusing his ecclesiastical authority in Paes's redaction of the chronicle of Susenyos, and being involved in a revolt in 1617 against the king, may not necessarily be an insertion by Paes. It is possible that later versions of the chronicle after Susenyos's reign censored that segment of the chronicle, but Paes, who was of course biased against the metropolitan sent from Egypt, may have been closer to the truth.

Christianity in the Sudan

Giovanni Vantini's Christianity in the Sudan is a dated work which, by and large, is mainly about Christian Nubia. Heavily based on the corpus of "Oriental" sources (plus some European ones) Vantini published, much of the text is like reading that compilation with some narrative commentary. It was a refresher for certain points in the history of medieval Nubia that we have forgotten about, but without any deeper investigation of the source materials, rather limited. Fortunately, advances by archaeologists and studies of Old Nubian and other textual sources has shed more light on the nature of the Nubian political system, economic structure, and religion. For instance, Dotawo is now more widely accepted as being the same state as Makuria. Sadly, Alwa, in Upper Nubia, remains a mystery in Vantini's text, but that is no surprise given the year this work was published (1980). More intriguingly for those interested in the later centuries of medieval Nubia, one can find here useful Western sources on Nubia and some important references to the Vatican's attempts to replant the Christian seed in Nubia. Some of this correspondence even touches upon the Kwararafa south of Borno, confusingly believed by some Europeans in Tripoli to have been Christians. Last, but certainly not least, some European sources also alluding to the survival of Christianity in pockets of Nubia as late as the 1740s suggest fruitful areas of research for scholars interested in Christian traces in Nubian culture. Some observations noted here on possible areas of Christian Nubian influence in Kordofan and Darfur also suggest medieval Nubian kingdoms really did exert some degree of influence to the west of the Nile...Indeed, the place name in the Dilling area mentioned in the famous Tabaqat may be further evidence of this.

Modern Analogies and Medieval Nubia

Ali Osman's Economy and trade of medieval Nubia is premised on the notion of continuity across Nubian history. With this probably fair assumption, his thesis proceeds to explore possible mechanisms and systems of economics and exchange in Nubia based on analogous practices in modern Nubia. This can be justified by the, again, probably fair, conclusion that relations with their environment, technology, and rural/village systems of land proprietorship and lineages have not changed drastically until the 20th century. While Osman is undoubtedly correct to point to the necessity of using contemporary Nubian ethnographic and linguistic evidence to make sense of Christian Nubia, his analogous model does veer a little too far by attempting to compare Nubia's river trade of the early 20th century to the organization of trade 1000 years ago. Again, the environment hasn't changed that much and there undoubtedly was much continuity at the village level (at least) from the Christian period through post-Christian kingdoms. But, one suspects that the impact of religion and the gradual shift to Islam may have introduced more changes in social, economic, spiritual, and political features than we think. Despite some similarities between the state of Kokka, for instance, and medieval Nubia, the practice of Islam and changes in the "superstructure" of society may have introduced or led to other changes on the micro-level. Despite our own hesitations about some of the study's conclusions, it was fascinating to read Osman's personal, autobiographic details. Indeed, oral traditions of his own lineage identify a Christian ancestor who lived several centuries ago! And the author's comments about official versus popular trade seem reasonable. 

On the Zagwe

Marie-Laure Derat's L’énigme d’une dynastie sainte et usurpatrice dans le royaume chrétien d’Ethiopie, XIe-XIIIe siècle is an intriguing and challenging work. The lack of adequate documentation for most of the rulers of the Zagwe dynasty and the problematic reliance on oral traditions, hagiographies and historiography based on the Solomonic legend of the subsequent dynasty makes it rather difficult to establish with greater clarity what was the Zagwe dynasty. However, using the available Arabic sources (particularly Copts writing the history of the Patriarchate of Alexandria), later hagiographies, archaeological evidence, and inscriptions, land grants and kings lists, Derat proposes some new interpretations while raising more questions. Derat does this while endeavoring to understand the paradox of how the Zagwe rulers were seen as both usurpers yet holy.

For example, the assumption of an Agaw or Cushitic origin of the Zagwe dynasty is far from clear. Further, the oral traditions compiled by Conti Rossini are contradictory and difficult to make sense of. Instead of assuming a Cushitic or Agaw origin, Derat proposes a model in which the Zagwe rulers emerged from a long-lasting second wave of Christianization that occured in the late Aksumite and post-Aksumite period in eastern Tigray. Archaeological evidence indicates there an area of ongoing church construction and thriving Christian communities, perhaps leading to a reunified Ethiopian Christian kingdom that reestablished contact with the Patriarchate in Egypt. Derat even suggests that the famous rock-hewn churches at the site associated with the most illustrious Zagwe ruler, Lalibela, were not built because of Muslims prohibiting Ethiopians from making the pilgrimage there. Indeed, the Zagwe appear to have contributed to the Christianization of an already used space, building marvels that were associated with rulers like Lalibela. Their donations to churches and ecclesiastical groups similarly exemplify their efforts to reinforce their rule as patrons of the Church and monasteries. 

Unfortunately, since it is so difficult to disentangle the problematic sources written during the Solomonic era and shed light on the Zagwe dynasty from sources written during their dynasty. The genealogy of rulers is uncertain, the hagiographies were written after their fall and promote the idea of the holiness of some as saints while also accepting the Solomonic legend of the legitimate dynasty which took over in 1270. Nonetheless, it does seem like the standard narrative on the Zagwe dynasty in Ethiopian historiography is in need of substantial change. Portraying them as "Cushitic" or Agaw usurpers against "legitimate" Semitic Solomonic rulers or implying that the former practiced matrilineal succession based on the contradictory sources available indicate this problem quite well. All one can say is that the Zagwe rulers such as Lalibela and Yemrehanna Krestos achieved sainthood while modeling an idealized kingship, one which was later adopted by Zara Yaq'ob and subsequent Solomonic rulers. This paradox of usurpers and holy rulers may reflect that long process of Christianization in other regions of the kingdom which, influenced by the traditions of the Kebra Negast and apocalyptic literature from Coptic and Syriac sources, later emerged the Solomonic dynasty as heirs to Aksum. 

Nubia Under the Pharaohs

Bruce Trigger's Nubia Under the Pharaohs is a brief study of the relations between Egypt and its southern neighbor from the Early Dynastic Period to the rise of the Napatan Kushite kingdom. As one can expect, a study such as this relies heavily on archaeological surveys, excavations and inscriptions to make sense of Pharaonic Egypt's interests and subjugation of Nubia. However, Trigger's publication is rather outdated by now, and reflects older scholarship's occasionally problematic racial framework. For instance, Egyptian attitudes about the southerners during the period of the New Kingdom empire are compared to the attitudes of Europeans about black Africans during the period of European colonial rule in Africa. Sure, Egyptian inscriptions recorded during the zenith of their empire in Nubia reflected their self-serving narrative but one wonders to what extent it was any different from Egyptian attitudes about their Levantine subjects. In addition, "brown" populations in Lower Nubian are distinguished from the "negroid" populations further south in a way that racializes the population history of Nubia. This does not seem particularly helpful, especially given the wide-ranging ties between Lower Nubia and Upper Nubia since prehistoric times. Indeed, the widely-shared C-Group characteristics as well as the presence of Pan-Grave burials (in addition to Egyptian imports and Egyptian-styled graves) point to a heterogeneous population in which "race" as we see it today should not be imposed. 

Despite these aforementioned "issues" and being somewhat dated, Trigger's study does suggest some ideas about how and why "Egyptianization" in Nubia became so influential and enduring. While influences from predynastic Upper Egypt appear already in the A-Group culture of Lower Nubia, the less favorable agricultural conditions in that section of Nubia may have limited the development of states or stratified societies. Nonetheless, populations in Lower Nubia were able to enjoy imported manufactured products from Egypt in exchange for African products desired by the Egyptian royal court and luxury markets in the Near East. Acting as middlemen between the powerful Egyptian state to the north and southern territories like Yam (Iam, assuming it was indeed in the area that later became known as Kerma), Lower Nubian groups appear to have enjoyed a degree of prosperity in the Old Kingdom period. However, Middle Kingdom Egyptian expansion, which included fortifications at key sites along the Nile to protect trade routes and access to gold, removed the need for Nubian middlemen in this next phase of Egyptian relations with Nubia. Nonetheless, a powerful state centered at Kerma, Kush, was able to prosper and during the Second Intermediate Period, even trade with the Hyksos in Lower Egypt profitably. Kerma expansion to the Egyptian frontier made them a potent state whose rulers were interred in large burials featuring human sacrifice on an impressive scale. Undoubtedly, Kerma was a power with access to Egyptian and Near Eastern products as well as some of the amenities and features of pharaonic civilization (the adoption or use of hieroglyphics is inferred from an Upper Egyptian ruler intercepting a letter from the Hyksos ruler to the Kerma king). 

The New Kingdom era, however, ushered in the most extensive period of Egyptian rule. Extending to at least the 4th Cataract, the New Kingdom pharaohs sponsored more fortifications, Egyptian settlements, gold mining operations, trade expeditions with the south, and Egyptian settlements. Egyptianization took on a new dimension as local elites (which included some descendants of the Kerma rulers as well as local headmen who had probably enjoyed a degree of status and power under Kerman rule) were sometimes sent to Egypt for education and adopted Egyptian burial styles, ritual worship and other traits. To what extent the population of Nubia was reduced to serving as peasant labor for estates of temples or serving the Pharaohs for mining or military service is unclear. According to Trigger, Egyptianization here was so heavily promoted because the Egyptians had little respect for local institutions and cultures in Nubia while also eager to fill the void left by the fall of Kush with more "advanced" Egyptian administrative, economic, and religious features. We find it hard to imagine the kingdom at Kerma was so lacking in establishing an administrative framework but perhaps the Egyptians wanted to efface the old system of Kush, especially since occasional rebellions in Upper Nubia continued to arise that may have preferred the Kushite state system. Regardless of the extent to which Egyptianization was more heavily promoted in Nubia than in the Levant, after 500 years, one can see why the Napatan-Meroitic civilization that emerged after Egyptian colonial occupation may have borrowed heavily from pharaonic civilization as a framework for the administration of an state that encompassed all of Nubia.

Meroe as a Sudanic State

The Archaeology of the Meroitic State: New perspectives on its social and political organisation by David N. Edwards is an interesting, yet short read. Arguing in favor of the Meroitic state (and perhaps during its Napatan phase and even the state of Kerma) as a Sudanic one resembling medieval and early modern states like the Darfur Sultanate, Borno, and the Funj or Sinnar Sultanate, Edwards believes the Meroitic state must be reconceived. Although the impact of Egyptian civilization and influences is undeniable in Kush, the role of the environment and archaeological evidence suggests the Meroitic state was founded upon different principles than that of Egypt. 

Instead of the control of production with ample surpluses, Nubia, especially Lower Nubia before the adoption of the waterwheel or saqia by the 300s, the kingdom was likely a segmentary state with the power of the rulers based on "trade" and warfare. In this case, the Meroitic rulers controlled "trade" or exchange with the North and through a redistribution network to provincial elites, controlled other provinces (loosely). The state's military capacity was likely also significant since military force and raiding could ensure a supply of locally valuable commodities (like livestock) and, through subjugated territories, access to gold, ivory, slaves, and other valuable exports to the north. 

Much of the book tries to fit Lower Nubia into this model, based on analyses of settlement patterns and data from cemeteries or burials. While much work remains to be done, if Lower Nubia's population truly was so low during this period of Meroitic "resettlement," then the theory of Edwards that these settlements were likely oriented to continue or ensure central government control of the routes to trade with Egypt for Mediterranean or Near Eastern prestige goods (later redistributed through the royally-controlled distribution network across the state). Thus, Meroe's "fall" in the 4th century may have had more to do with the loss of control of northern trade from the royal court, eventually leading to provincial elites severing ties while Blemmyes and Nobadaes settled in Lower Nubia in larger numbers. Since we don't know enough about the Meroitic state in relation to its core area (where it presumably exerted far more direct control and was better able to tap into local production and control access to water sources), one wonders about the core of the state's productive capacity for locally produced prestige goods. Despite the limited evidence from archaeology and our inability to read Meroitic inscriptions, the idea of the Meroitic state being "Sudanic" is an interesting hypothesis.

Rome, Nubia, and Ethiopia

We found this talk by Giovanni Ruffini on Rome in the Ethiopian and Nubian Imagination to be fascinating and a worthwhile listen. Anything accessible yet serious about medieval Nubia is worthy of attention and should be disseminated to all interested parties.

Sirat al-Habasha

E.J. van Donzel's translation of A Yemenite Embassy to Ethiopia 1647-1694: Al-Haymi's Sirat Al- Habasha is an interesting account by a Yemeni traveler to the court of Fasiladas in the 1640s. Although the Yemeni envoy failed since Fasiladas was not actually interested in converting to Islam, his brief account, too vague in some parts, adds another perspective on the diplomatic policy of the Ethiopian ruler (as well as the intrigue and conflict within the royal court). The Ethiopian emperor was only interested in improving the security of the route to the Red Sea port of Baylul, believing that closer relations with Yemen and a regular exchange of envoys would attract more merchants (the Yemeni envoys traveled with soldiers, and the improvement of security along the route could have made Ethiopia less dependent upon Turkish-ruled Massawa. However, the insecurity caused by the Oromo near the route, plus its desolate, desert conditions, inhibited the development of trade via Baylul. Indeed, as explained by van Donzel, the Yemeni imam's success in defeating the Ottoman Turks was likely another reason why Fasiladas was interested in closer relations. Unfortunately, for al-Haymi and the ruler of Yemen, Fasiladas was only interested in trade, and even the hint of a possible conversion sparked opposition from members of the court in Gondar.

Despite the failure of Fasiladas to establish closer ties and increase the significance of the Baylul for Red Sea trade, al-Haymi's account suggests other areas in which the negus was successful. For instance, he was able to neutralize an abuna who was perceived as too powerful (and corrupt), imprisoning him on an island in Lake Tana. His brother, called Claudius by Lobo, was also imprisoned due to the threat of his military leadership. In fact, Fasiladas's full brother was also supposedly sympathetic to the Jesuits and Catholics. Of course, al-Haymi, who saw Fasiladas's leadership fail in instances like the arson committed against his lodgings on more than one occasion or in the way some officials ignored their orders to protect the Yemeni envoys on their return, had a more negative perspective. To him, Fasiladas was said to have been a drunk and unaware of the occurrences in the provinces due to his conniving ministers (who were also accused of corruption, bribery, and oppression). Nonetheless, the ruler was able to establish a royal capital with an impressive royal castle, supposedly built by an Indian. In addition, the royal court was splendidly attired, showing the ostentation and lavish consumption of the Ethiopian elite. Surely these demonstrate the power of the Ethiopian rulers in terms of acquiring luxury goods and the capacity of the Gondar rulers to built monumental architecture. Fasiladas was also able to eliminate possible threats to the throne and avoid plunging the kingdom into further religious conflict or divisions. Furthermore, Fasiladas was able to convert many of the Falasha to Christianity, albeit through violent means. 

In other respects, al-Haymi's account also provides some account of Ethiopia's religious diversity and cosmopolitanism. The Indian architect of the royal castle was said to have built it in an Indian style. The Ethiopian elite used luxury goods like mattresses and silks imported from distant lands, such as India and the Middle East or swords from Sinnar. The Arabic interpreter for the king was a sharif who converted to Christianity and may have come from Bukhara in Central Asia. Even al-Haymi, who lamented the lack of intellectual accomplishment among most Christians, found inquisitive minds among some Christians and Muslims in Gondar. Despite Christian hostility to any local conversion to Islam and the alleged ignorance of the monks, Solomonic Ethiopia under Fasiladas was a cosmopolitan place and well-connected to other powers of the region and beyond. 

Ethiopia and Alexandria

Stuart C. Munro-Hay's Ethiopia and Alexandria: The Metropolitan Episcopacy of Ethiopia is perhaps somewhat dated but an interesting read. Focusing on relations between the Patriarchate of Alexandria and the Aksumite (then the Zagwe and Solomonic Dynasties) kingdom from Frumentius in the 4th century to Amda Tseyon in the 14th century, Munro-Hay's study illustrates how important our sources on the Patriarchs of Alexandria are for reconstructing Ethiopian (and Nubian) history. While much of the period covered in this book are well-trod and familiar to anyone interested in Aksumite and medieval Ethiopian history, the emphasis on Alexandria's connection to Abyssinia provides a different focus for one of the remarkable relationships of Christian history. Indeed, the very relocation of the Patriarchate of Alexandria to Cairo was, in part, motivated by the easier communication with Nubia and Ethiopia. Moreover, the chronicles and other Coptic, Syriac, Arabic, Greek and Ge'ez sources highlight the international role of the patriarchs as a major force in Egyptian relations with Nubia and Ethiopia during after the Muslim conquest of Egypt. 

Unfortunately, some of the gaps in our knowledge of the later centuries of the Aksumite king and the paucity of clear data and chronologies on the transition from the Aksumite rulers to the Zagwe dynasy are not clarified by the familiar sources on the Coptic Church. Nonetheless, the sources on the patriarchs, the metropolitans they appointed for Ethiopia, and correspondence between Egyptian and Abyssinian rulers do seem to confirm the chronology of the Zagwe dynasty favored by Munro-Hay. Nonetheless,Munro-Hay had to rely on speculation for some of the possible omissions of metropolitans in Ethiopia, the melkite and Jacobite metropolitans, and the legends of Gudit, late Aksumite kings lists, and Ethiopian relations with the Nubian kingdoms. Indeed, it is the relatively unknown nature of relations between the Nubian statea of Makuria and Alwa with Abyssinia that are most interesting. 

While Solomonic rulers like Yekuno Amlak and his son corresponded with the Mamluk sultans of Egypt via a Yemeni ruler as an intermediary, the land route to Egypt, via the Nubians, was an important route. Numerous envoys, metropolitans, and traders traveled through the route, but Nubian-Ethiopian relations are sadly still a topic of conjecture. Makuria and Alwa were also in the position of having local bishops or metropolitans, with the confirmation by the patriarch in Egypt. Surely, one would think Aksumite and later Ethiopian rulers would have also attempted to force the Coptic Church to recognize local metropolitans, too. Yet despite this, the Ethiopian rulers remained dependent on Alexandria to appoint metropolitans who, in turn, ensured local bishops and clergy could be created. In fact, Nubia appeared. to have played a supportive role in helping Abyssinia regain the favor of Alexandria while both Northeast African Christian regions also saw themselves as supporters of the Christian communities of Egypt. In fact, a perhaps large number of Copts even fled to Nubia and Ethiopia to escape Muslim persecutions. This long-standing history of Christianity in the northeast corner of Africa is a story that, one day, should be told in a way that fully connects Copts, Nubians, and Ethiopians. 

Annales du Roi Yohannes I

Although the Gondarine era of the Solomonic Dynasty has long been an area of interest, we are only recently digging into more of the European translations of primary sources from that era. In this case, Guidi's French translation of the chronicle of Yohannes, who reigned from 1667 to 1682, serves as a brief introduction to royal chronicles from this era in Ethiopian history. The son of Fasiladas, a number of important events and developments occurred during the reign of Yohannes. Yohannes, for example, finally expelled the "Franks" or remnants of the Luso-Ethiopian population. Perhaps to maintain the image of the Emperor as just, pious, and peace-loving, the chronicler attributes the expulsion to agitation among the mons of Ethiopia. Thus, decades after the end of the Jesuit mission, the legacy of religious strife and conflict with Roman Catholicism lingered in Ethiopia's monastic circles. As for the remnants of the "Franks" in Ethiopia, they were marched toward Sennar, in today's Sudan, and their firearms were supposedly kept by the Ethiopians. Only those who converted to Ethiopian Christianity were allowed to stay. Franks who came to Ethiopia to promote Roman Catholicism were even executed, as happened to "Franks" who endeavored to pass as Egyptians. Yohannes also decreed residential segregation, forcing Muslims, Falasha and Turks to live in separate quarters or areas instead of cohabiting the same quarters as Christians. To what extent this was actually implemented across the kingdom is unclear. 

The son of Fasiladas also attempted to unify the Church through councils that promoted a single view on the nature of Christ and the Trinity. These theological disputes and debates led to the development of "heretics" in Lasta who opposed Yohannes. In addition, the "pagan" Agaw rebelled against the Solomonic authority while occasional rebellions, Oromo attacks, "Paysan" revolts, conspiracies from members of the royal family and monk rebels threatened royal authority. Interestingly, the chronicler of Yohannes mentions the strategic practice of deforestation to clear paths and subdue Agaw rebels. In addition, Yohannes used his authority and court-affiliated Church leaders to promote unity in religious doctrine and attempt to reunify the state. Indeed, it was quite amazing how Yohannes managed to find enough time to spend the rainy season in Gondar after so much time in most years of his reign campaigning across the empire. In fact, one of the rebels, Fares, even invited the ruler of Adal to help dethrone Yohannes. Certain iniquitous persons in Gondar even promoted discord between Yohannes and his future successor, Iyasu I. 

Since the chronicle is written from an official standpoint, and must, to a certain extent, only record what the emperor or his successor would have allowed to be written, one must look at other types of sources to assist with the reconstruction of Solomonic Ethiopia under Yohannes. For example, looking to Egyptian, Funj, Ottoman, Portuguese, and other sources certainly elucidates aspects of this era hidden or peripheral to the interests of royal chronicles. Since the chronicles also very much depict the ruler as a legitimate heir to Solomon and ruling in accordance with Christian principles, Yohannes emerges as a just, generous, wise, capable, God-fearing man with few or no faults. One must wonder if he really was not the driving force behind the incarceration of his siblings when he acceded to the throne. Likewise, one must wonder about the conflicts between him and his son, or for that matter, between him and some of the peoples against whom he campaigned throughout his time on the throne. Nonetheless, his ability to maintain some degree of stability after the foundations established by Fasiladas is a testament to his capability to reign effectively. Unfortunately for him, it seems that Ethiopian Christianity, perhaps due to the recent controversies and conflict with the Jesuits, was set on course for more internal conflicts which contributed to the weakening of royal authority. As long as the Gondar-period rulers were competent, some degree of balance could be maintained between the various warring segments of the Church, state, and provinces. When that was lost, all centrifugal tendencies were intensified. 

Ancient Ethiopia

Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 by Sergew Hable Selassie has long been one of those studies of Ethiopian history on our reading list. Since we consider ourselves rather ignorant of Ethiopian history of the pre-Aksumite and Aksumite era, we considered this monograph by an Ethiopian scholar to be an important work to at least acquaint ourselves with some of the basic facts, controversies, and developments in Ethiopia before the Solomonic dynasty. To a certain extent, this book, though outdated by 2023, succeeds in those respects. An early chapter provides a detailed review of the historiography on Ethiopia's past, with useful commentary on the strengths and weaknesses of both Ethiopian and foreign historians. Much of our knowledge of Ethiopia's ancient past, at least when this book was published in the 1970s, was limited by the state of archaeological excavations. Nonetheless, the rather voluminous corpus of written sources, inscriptions, chronicles, hagiographies, travel narratives, and oral traditions has made it possible to construct a narrative of Ethiopia's past from ancient Egyptian trade with Punt to 1270.

Although Selassie stresses Aksumite civilization as an indigenous development and sees continuity through the history of Ethiopia, a number of issues arise in his use of the sources. First, his use of chronicles and hagiographies with several anachronisms, likely written centuries after the events they describe, suggest greater caution is necessary when attempting to make sense of their accuracy for events in the remote past. For instance, the author accepts the theory that Takla Haymanot and Iyasus Mo'a were both pivotal to the "Solomonic Restoration" in spite of the fact that the actual production of the literature on these two holy figures was written in contexts and dates that are filled with contradictions. In addition, the author accepts what more contemporary authors would describe as "political fictions" of Aksumite suzerainty of South Arabia, Nubia and other regions. While much of this may be due to the limited sources available for certain eras in Aksumite history, such as the later centuries of the Aksumite state and the paucity of internal textual sources for the Zagwe dynasty, this sometimes dangerous reliance on certain types of Ethiopian sources is occasionally problematic. It does not clarify, for instance, what transpired after Caleb's reign in Aksum. It also may not reflect accurately the real chronology of Aksumite kings or Zagwe rulers. In addition, the problematic legends about Gudit, some of which present her as a Jew, are clearly problematic, too, although the existence of a powerful queen who threatened Aksum is reported in the external Arabic sources. Too much uncertainty in the sources, anachronisms that refer to places such as Sennar centuries before their foundation, and the clearly legendary nature of some anecdotes or claims suggest a need for more cautious interpretation of these sources. 

To his credit, Selassie understands the limitations of some of the sources and reaches conclusions that are tentative. To the extent possible, he uses Coptic, Arabic, Greek, and other sources to corroborate some developments, especially the Aksumite influence in South Arabia under Caleb or the arrival of the Nine Saints in Ethiopia. Chronicles of the Alexandria patriarchs, Egyptian sources, Byzantine writers like Procopius, Persian histories and inscriptions from pre-Islamic South Arabia certainly do corroborate much of this information. Indeed, they support the author's contention that Abyssinia was not isolated and was actually a major player in the economic, religious and political affairs in the Red Sea region, Mediterranean, Middle East and northeast Africa. However, one wishes the author had not conflated all references to "Ethiopia" in the ancient sources as actual references to today's Ethiopia. Some of the references used by the author are obviously allusions to Nubia or Kush, such as the tale of the Ethiopian Eunuch or Taharqa of the Bible. Other bizarre occasions of the use of medieval Arabic sources include interpreting one Arabic source as referring, at least in part, to modern Ethiopia due to the geographer's use of "Abyssinia" (Habashat) to refer generally to "Black Africa" as known in the 9th century. Last, but certainly not least, the unnecessary full quotation of the forged letter from Prester John in the 12th century is excessive and serves no purpose. While "India" and "Ethiopia" were often conflated in the ancient and medieval eras, and stories of the Christian kingdom in the Ethiopian highlands would have reached parts of the Latin West during the 1100s, the letter from the Prester John situates the kingdom in the East. Sure, Ethiopia was later associated with the land of Prester John, but the letter cited extensively by Selassie reveals nothing about Ethiopia under the Zagwe kings.

Despite its limitations and the somewhat problematic use of the sources, Ancient and Medieval Ethiopian History to 1270 does fill in several gaps in the historical reconstruction of the Ethiopian past. The Aksumite civilization was undoubtedly a major civilization with an impact stretching across the Red Sea. In truth, Aksum was of major importance when it dominated the southern Red Sea, as it could play a dominant role in the trade of goods from India to the Mediterranean. Later Aksumite and Zagwe relations with Nubia and Egypt also suggest the importance of relations between Nubia and Ethiopia by this time. The overland trade and pilgrimage routes, the migration of Copts  to Ethiopia, the close relationship with the See of Alexandria, and Nubian-Ethiopian relations and contacts must have been of major importance for Ethiopia. Unfortunately, we only find glimpses of it in the sources. That a Nubian king helped convince the Patriarch to appoint a new metropolitan for Ethiopia and both regions experienced moments of peace and conflict with the Beja and the Muslim powers neighboring them are significant for inter-religious conflict, dialogue, trade, and the spread of new ideas. To what extent the civilizations influenced each other and their relations with other parts of Africa is question future scholars may one day elucidate. One would hope that the history of the later Aksumite state and the Zagwe dynasty could someday contribute to the study of medieval Nubia and vice versa. 

Chronicles of Zara Yaqob and Baeda Maryam

After reading Derat's Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme, we were curious to read two of the major sources of her study. Indeed, the royal chronicles on the reigns of Zara Yaqob and his son, Baeda Maryam, are constant references for Derat. Derat uses them to help establish a timeline for the relationship between the Solomonic rulers and monastic networks in Amhara and Shoa. Unfortunately for us, since we cannot read Ge'ez, we must rely on Perruchon's dated 1893 French translation.  Perruchon did include a helpful introductory essay that helps contextualize the manuscript and ths second half of the 15th century in Ethiopian history. However, one cannot help but wonder why modern scholars have not revisited these royal chronicles and provided updated translation based on current research findings, new insights into translation and the study of Ge'ez and Amharic, or to translate the chronicles into new languages. 

Zara Yaqob's coronation

That said, these chronicles are, despite some repetition, profoundly useful documents for reconstructing, to a certain extent, what was actually happening in Ethiopia. For instance, Zara Yaqob, whose chronicler appears to have written during the reign of Lebna Dengel, appears to have been a man of a profoundly religious bent and perhaps more authoritarian than was the average. It is fascinating to read of this one man's attempt to centralize the royal administration of the empire entirely into his own hands, relying even on his daughters to fill administrative posts and avoid dealing with the traditional administrative elites. In addition, imposing the observance of the Saturday Sabbath, the cult of Mary, and building churches across the state certainly suggest Zara Yaqob was endeavoring to centralize the state and build a more unified society. Indeed, how else could one explain his willingness to stand up to the Stephanites, punish his own children for alleged paganism, and his own authorship of religious or spiritual texts? Perhaps Zara Yaqob was an equivalent of sorts to our Ali Ghaji of Borno.

His son, Baeda Maryam, was also an important ruler despite only reigning for 10 years. Baeda Maryam is interesting for reversing some of his own father's policies. Unlike his father, who appears to have been more interested in concentrating all power and authority into the monarchy, he actually restored the previous administrative system of the provinces. This presumably won him followers and supporters who were alienated or removed from office by Zara Yaqob. Furthermore, Baeda Maryam continued building churches, strengthened relations with Dabra Libanos, and campaigned against "pagans" and Adal. Thus, he seems to have continued or tried to continue some of his father's policies while reverting to the pre-Zara Yaqob order of earlier Solomonic dynasty. In that regard, it is interesting that Almeida's brief account of Zara Yaqob refers to Ethiopian traditions of the day recalling him as a tyrant. Zara Yaqob's "tyrannical" rule was defended based on his religious zeal and passion for justice, yet later Solomonic rulers appear to have followed in Baeda Maryam's footsteps. 

The Domain of the Solomonic Kings

Derat's  Le domaine des rois éthiopiens (1270-1527): Espace, pouvoir et monachisme is a fascinating study of Solomonic Ethiopia. Derat makes an interesting case for the centrality of Amhara and Sawa as "domains" of the Solomonic rulers in the period 1270-1527. If her interpretation of the royal chronicles, hagiographical literature, monastic chronicles, and other sources (especially Arab Faqih, Francisco Alvares, and other exogenous writings) is correct, then the tradition of Takla Haymanot playing a key role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty under Yekuno Amlak is an invented one that did not reflect what actually happened in 1270. Instead, she proposes that Dabra Asbo/Libanos (the monastery started by Takla Haymanot in the region of Sawa) invented the tradition of their founder having a central role in the rise of the Solomonic dynasty to increase their prestige. Instead, Dabra Hayq, a monastery started in the 1200s by Iyasus Mo'a, appears to have been more central in the early rise of Yekuno Amlak against the Zagwe dynasty. 

She also suggests that these monastic networks were vital for the expansion and extension of the Solomonic dynasty in the two provinces of Amhara and Sawa, mountainous provinces that are defensible and, in the case of the latter, agriculturally rich. So, the Solomonic rulers, especially Zara Ya'eqob and his successors in the 1400s, began to establish and build more monasteries and churches in the provinces (and nearby ones that were recently conquered from Muslims or pagans) and in the process, force prestigious (and formerly autonomous monasteries, like Dabra Asbo) to supply clerics and monks to the religious foundations. In order to grease the wheels, kings like Zara Ya'eqob gave more land as gult or rest to these monasteries, appointed abbots (or tried to do so), used royal monasteries and churches as centers for councils that affected religious policy, and even used others as tombs for kings and pilgrimage centers. She argues that Amhara, and especially Sawa (and later Gojjam) became solidly part of the Solomonic kingdom through these religious networks in which the kings increasingly dominated religious policy and sought to use the "monastic holy man" as a pillar of the kingdom. Unfortunately, Derat's book is somewhat repetitive and her evidence relies on deductions that hope to make sense of fragmentary or contradictory hagiographies and traditions.

But she makes a persuasive case that the image of the monastic holy man changed. Monasteries like Dabra Asbo/Libanos, which once prized the martyr and depicted the Solomonic rulers as corrupt or heretics for having multiple wives, abusing their power, or seeking to change Church doctrine, later shifted to a new image of holiness in which the monastic leadership collaborated with the king to protect Christian society. As one can imagine, this process was part of the strengthening of Solomonic power in Amhara, Sawa and other provinces as the monastic and church network ultimately built or expanded bases of power for the Solomonic rulers. Even in this era of ambulant courts, Solomonic rulers made frequent visits to the religious foundations they sponsored, and those containing tombs for past rulers became centers of pilgrimage and commemoration of the Solomonic rulers. I guess it would have helped to see how this process differed in northern Ethiopia, like in Tigre, where the origins of Ethiopian monasticism could be found. Perhaps a hint can be seen in the way that Yekuno Amlak erected a church in Lasta, the center of the Zagwe dynasty, possibly inserting himself into the tradition of religious pilgrimage and sacred geography espoused by the Zagwe dynasty. Nevertheless, the most interesting figure to emerge out of this history is Zara Ya'eqob, the fascinating emperor who heavily promoted the cult of Mary, reduced the independence of Dabra Asbo, imposed the observation of the Saturday Sabbath, and convened councils on Church doctrine which were destined to support his own views. The guy also wrote a number of homilies and religious treaties and even had two of his wives killed for plotting against him.

I would still like to learn more about the actual process of Christianization of Sawa and other provinces, which is hinted at here or there. We also have some enigmatic references to the Falasha and other non-Christians but it would have been important to see how the Solomonic dynasty asserted itself and its legitimacy in other parts of the empire. Derat suggests some continuity from the Aksumite and Zagwe dynasties in terms of building churches as royal tombs but perhaps opening up to consider Christian rulership in Nubia and the Byzantine Empire would have been fruitful. After all, Ethiopians were still making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, had contacts with the Coptic Church of Egypt (whose Patriarch also had Nubia in its jurisdiction) and may have sought to establish an Ethiopian "caesaropapism" that may have had parallels in medieval Nubia. Comparisons with Sudanic Africa, as suggested by Donald Crummey, may have been of use, too. After all, one can see some parallels with Islamic kingdoms in the Sudanic belt, despite the obvious differences between Islam and Christianity. The parallels, for instance, with the Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno may offer clues to the allegedly sacred royalty theme. Or, for instance, the support for religious foundations and Islamic holymen found in the Borno mahrams could potentially offer a similar case in which the Sayfawa dynasts used their patronage of Islamic holymen to buttress their authority in disparate regions of their empire. 

Aksum and Nubia

George Hatke's Aksum and Nubia: Warfare, Commerce, and Political Fictions in Ancient Northeast Africa is a short but rather persuasive study of Aksum's relations with Kush (Nubia) during the early centuries of our era. Based primarily on Aksumite sources such as inscriptions, relevant archaeological material, and occasionally Greco-Roman, Coptic, Syriac, and other Near Eastern textual sources, Hatke argues persuasively that Aksum and Kush, despite their proximity, did not interact in significant ways. Instead of being seen as commercial rivals or states which exerted significant influences on each other, the two appear to have only engaged in small-scale trade. Aksum was mainly oriented to the Red Sea and Indian Ocean for its commercial contacts with the broader world. Kush, or the Meroitic state, on the other hand, focused on the Nile and contacts with Egypt for its long-distance trade. Since the two northeast African polities possessed different commercial axes and thus did not have any reason to be commercial rivals, Aksum and Meroe engaged in small-scale trade without much interaction beyond this. Instead of any major cultural or economic influences on each other, Aksum's interests in the modern-day Sudan were more focused on the Beja/Blemmyes of the Eastern Desert. 

Indeed, records of Aksumite intervention or spheres of influence among the Beja to the borders of Roman Egypt in the 3rd century testify to the importance of security in the Eastern Desert area and Aksumite interests in the Red Sea coasts of Africa and Arabia. Aksum appears to have also been more invested in South Arabia, the Ethiopian Highlands, and parts of the Ethiopian-Sudan borderlands for economic and political expansion, with Nubia only being invaded during the reign of Ousanas and Ezana in the 4th century. In fact, according to Hatke, relying on the inscriptions of Ezanas and linguistic clues about Ge'ez, Greek, and South Arabian languages, has dated Ezana's famous Nubia campaign to March 360. His father appears to have also attacked Nubia, leaving evidence at Meroe itself. The son, however, was only in Nubia to launch a punitive campaign against the Noba, who had caused trouble on Aksum's frontier with groups such as the Barya. Meroe itself is not even mentioned in the inscriptions of Ezana's campaign, although some Kushite towns and people were undoubtedly captured or killed in the Aksumite raid. This political situation in Nubia possibly reflects the political fragmentation of Kush by 360, with Nubian-speaking Noba and Kushites perhaps acting independently of whatever authority remained at Meroe. Instead of Ezana wielding the final blow to Kush as an independent state, whatever authority was still claimed by the Kushite rulers may have been limited by the political fragmentation of Nubia. Further evidence from the toponyms in the inscriptions that Ezana's campaign did not affect Meroe but likely targeted towns to its north also suggest the ancient capital's demise should not be attributed to Aksum. 

Despite Aksumite claims to Kush as one of its vassal territories, the available evidence suggests this was often political fiction. Indeed, according to Hatke, it is very likely that Ezana's campaign in Nubia led to no long-last political suzerainty of the Noba. Furthermore, Aksumite sources from the 6th century king, Kaleb, also claimed Kush as part of Aksum's dominion, even though the Kushite state had ended by the late 4th century. Indeed, even in earlier moments in the 4th century, when Aksumite raids and campaigns reached Nubia, it is possible that the "tribute" sent by Kush to Aksum was actually more along the lines of gift diplomacy. Even the 6th contacts between Aksum and Nubia, suggested by Longinus meeting Aksumites in Alodia and the proposal by Emperor Justin to provide Nubian and Blemmye mercenaries for Aksum's use in Himyar, do not suggest large-scale trade, cultural influence or contacts. Nubia and Ethiopia, despite their proximity and some common interest in their frontier, and both impacted by the Eastern Desert nomads and the Beja, appear to have diverged from the period of Aksum's rise to the end of the kingdom. While the question of Nubian-Ethiopian contacts in the Middle Ages offers more avenues for contact, archaeologists have a lot of work to do in the borderlands.

Nubia, Ethiopia and the Latin West

Nubia, Ethiopia, and the Crusading World, 1095-1402 by Adam Simmons is one of the more interesting new books on medieval Nubia. Focusing on Latin Christian engagement and knowledge of medieval Nubia (Ethiopia of Antiquity) during the Crusades, Simmons argues rather persuasively that it was first Dotawo (Nubia) instead of Ethiopia that occupied Latin Europe's interest. Indeed, it is probable that medieval Nubia was the first African Prester John and Nubian interactions with Latin Europe, imagined or real, appear to have been the basis of Muslim Egypt's fears of a Christian military alliance. 

The king of Organa in between Mali and Nubia in this Catalan World Map.

Moreover, Simmons draws on a vast corpus of texts, including those of Latin Europe, the Islamic world, and Eastern Christianity, to support his contention of growing Latin European knowledge and interest in Nubia. It was only later, after the Solomonic dynasty appropriated the name Ethiopia and news of Amda Seyon's exploits reached Europe, that the Abyssinian Solomonic state began to attract significant European interest. In fact, according to Simmons, Solomonic Ethiopia even appropriated the Candaces of ancient Nubia into the story of their Biblical origins. Apocalyptic traditions from Eastern Christianity predicting the meeting of a Nubian (Ethiopian) king and a Roman king also fueled interest in Nubia that was later transferred to Solomonic Ethiopia. 

The main problem with the text is the paucity of Nubian and Ethiopian sources to tell their side of the story. Without a comparable rich corpus of texts in Old Nubian (or, perhaps, Syriac, Coptic and Greek) and Ge'ez, this study remains quite speculative on how Nubians, and later Solomonic Ethiopia, shaped the discourse on Christian Africa in Europe or the course of the Crusades. Suggestive encounters like Nubian pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela or interactions between the Europeans and Nubians in the Holy Land hint at possible deeper connections, but we are lacking so much information from the African side. Moreover, if we accept the quite plausible analysis of the author on a Nubian diplomatic mission to the papal court in the early 1300s, perhaps in the context of conflict for the throne of Dotawo among pro-Mamluk and anti-Mamluk contenders, we still have the interesting question of how Nubian envoys reached the Latin West. Were people in Medieval Nubia also traveling to the Mediterranean via ancient Saharan routes to the Northwest? Could Nubians have, via their interactions with western Sudanic states and the Maghreb, have endeavored to establish links to the Latin West? 

Organa and Nubia in the Dulcert Map

Furthermore, what was the response of powerful states like Kanem to these developments? Kanem in the late 1200s and for much of the 1300s faced a number of internal problems and succession crises, but could Kanem's alleged expansion to the far east, as far as the Nile, have occurred during the turbulent era of Mamluk-Dotawo relations in the late 1200s and early 1300s? Or was Ahmad b. Furtu exaggerating the past might and influence of the Sayfawa dynasty when he claimed their power was felt as far away as Nubia? One must recall al-Idrisi's mention of Nubian and Kanem spheres of influence in at least part of the vast region between the two kingdoms. Were there any tensions between them that may have also shaped the growing Latin European knowledge of Nubia and interest in alliances? 

Fra Mauro's 15th century world map included parts of Kanem and neighboring societies.

Was there any impact of the Eastern Christian apocalyptic prophecies and Islamic hadiths on Ethiopia's threat to Islam that would have shaped the Sayfawa dynasty's presentation of itself as a defender of Islam? Were people from Kanem who had traveled to Egypt or Hafsid Tunis cognizant of burgeoning Frankish interest in Nubia and Abyssinia? The improvement of European cartography in the 1300s and 1400s suggests that European cartographers had informants from Kanem or who had at least traveled there. The possible appearance of Kanem, or "Zaghawa" as Azagouc in a medieval romance might indicate this growing awareness of Kanem to Europeans. One must also remember the lodge for pilgrims and students in Cairo, funded by the kings of Kanem and established in the 1200s. Perhaps Kanem travelers and students were able to learn of Nubian-Latin Christian relations and Egyptian fears of the a Nubian-Franksh alliance. Despite our inability to answer any of these questions, Kanem's relations with Nubia is a fascinating one that would possibly connect events in the Chad basin with Dotawo for a more Sudanic-centered perspective on Nubian history. It could also lead to new questions about the Kanem-Tunis connections during the Crusading era and possible interactions with Latin Europe that overlapped with Nubian-Latin Christian relations.

Gult in Solomonic Ethiopia

Donald Crummey's Land and Society in the Christian Kingdom of Ethiopia: From the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century has been on our reading list for quite some time. Crummey was one of those scholars interested in the larger "Sudanic" context for Christian Ethiopia, one that is often forgotten or neglected due to the religion and perceived isolation of the Ethiopian highland kingdom from other parts of Africa. For our purposes, Crummey's examination of gult is directly linked to the "fiefs" of Kanuri or Borno "feudalism" that appears in the works of Cohen, Palmer, Brenner, and other specialists. Additional parallels can be found with the Darfur Sultanate of the Keira dynasty and the land charters of the Funj. Where the Ethiopian case differs is in the much larger corpus of surviving written material and the role of the Church. 

Moreover, the case of Borno differs in that the mahrams collected and translated by Palmer do not appear to be represent the type of "fief" allocated to courtiers and the nobility from the central administration. In Borno's case, the recipients of "fiefs" received rights in tribute to the land in question, and were expected to reside in the capital while appointing representatives to maintain order and collect the tribute. A part of the collected tribute was also given to the Sayfawa administration (or that of the al-Kanemi dynasty which followed). The surviving mahrams of Borno, however, do not appear to represent cases like these but separate forms of land charters in which the recipient received tax-free land or territories. These were, presumably, usually distinct from the "fiefs" allocated by the mai to dependents and allies in the provinces.

Nonetheless, the Ethiopian institution of gult clearly resembled that of Kanem-Borno with regards to land grants in the rights of tribute from free peasant landholders. In Borno, the peasantry appeared to enjoy usufruct land rights and a certain mobility was in practice so they could migrate to other areas or fiefs if unhappy or overtaxed by the chima kura or his representatives. In Solomonic Ethiopia, free peasants benefited from rest to inherit land through an ambilineal descent system (at least among the Amhara). Both had to pay tribute, usually in kind, to an overlord (or the church in Ethiopia). While the antiquity of gult probably goes back to the Aksumite era of expansion and military colonies, some Borno mahrams purportedly date from the early centuries of Sayfawa conversion to Islam. Due to the obvious differences between Islam and Christianity, Borno mahrams granted to illustrious or pious mallams and settlements like Kalumbardo might represent the equivalent to Ethiopia's many monastic institutions which spread further across the region under the Solomonic dynasty. 

Additional parallels might be found in the role of elite marriages and class formation of a ruling class that enjoyed its higher status through the exploitation of tribute. Members of the Magumi ruling clan, for instance, sometimes received tax-free land grants and rights of exploitation, according to Muhammad Nur al-Kali. They also formed a distinct group that married among themselves and apparently resisted the alifa of Kanem due to his attempts to tax them. They were probably also distinguished by their sponsorship of Islamic scholars and holymen, such as the noble who paid Ali Eisami's father for his services. Unfortunately, their lives are not as well-documented as their Ethiopian counterparts, particularly during the Gondarine era. Crummey's study includes numerous details of the inheritance, sale, and gifting of gult lands and uses the surviving manuscripts, land charters, and edicts to illustrate how the Ethiopian ruling class did dominate a class-based society. Their lives of luxury and leisurely activity like chess, literacy, hunting elephants, consumption of mead, and the use of silks and expensive imported cloth certainly distinguished them from the average Ethiopian peasant or slaves. Their elite marriages connected them to the Solomonic dynasty and powerful provincial elites while patronage of the church demonstrated the close relations between church and state that was a cornerstone of Solomonic power for most of its 7 centuries of existence. 

Lamentably, we still know far too little about the peasantry exploited by gult. With some suggestive evidence that one Solomonic monarch, Za Dengal, actually tried to align himself with the free peasantry against the regional nobility, thereby threatening gult foundations of the empire, Crummey points to class conflict as a major factor in 16th and 17th century Ethiopia. Susenyos's conversion to Catholicism and religious conflict certainly contributed to this turmoil and instability until the early Gondarine period. Later moments of rural banditry, peasant revolts under Haile Selassie, or the formal end of gult under the Derg administration clearly attest to social conflict in the countryside. Modern Ethiopia's conquest of new territories in the late 19th century and land legislation favoring Amharic-speaking settlers over local inhabitants suggest an ethnic dimension that does not manifest itself in the earlier Gondar era. There is also too little information in the extant corpus on gult and the military in Solomonic history. What differences, if any, existed between military holders of gult and the ecclesiastical organizations who possessed gult lands? Did something akin to the influential mallams of Borno who appealed to the peasantry or the charismatic holymen of the Funj sultanate influence peasant resistance or negotiation of gult conditions? How did gender dynamics shape land ownership or rights in other parts of "Sudanic" Africa? Crummey definitely demonstrates how women could assert gult rights and, in some cases, effect policy on a "national" scale under Mentewab. 

Nubian Renaissance of the Funj

Although Spaulding's coauthored Kingdoms of Sudan includes much of the analysis found in his earlier dissertation, we felt a need to read the original for more context. Ostensibly a history of the Funj Sultanate's northern Abdallab state or region from 1600-1821, in practice the dissertation is organized in two parts: political history of the Abdallab state or provincial kingdom of the Funj Sultanate and an analysis of Islam and commerce as forces undermining the Sultanate. Spaulding uses oral traditions, the Funj Chronicle, the Tabaqat and various external sources in his endeavor to reconstruct the outline of the Abdallab as well as the Funj. Funj origins and their Sultanate as a "Sudanic" state sharing many commonalities with a string of kingdoms stretching from Senegambia to Sinnar (Sennar) is a persistent theme. The Funj state as a non-tribal, non-Arab, polyethnic Nubian state with continuity from the medieval Christian kingdoms is likewise a consistent theme.

The idea of the Funj as a southern Nubian people pushed from their homeland along the White Nile by the Shilluk seems plausible enough. Linguistic evidence and Shilluk traditions do suggest it is plausible. That the Funj state retained the horned crown of medieval Nubian kingship as well as the practices of matrilineal succession and seizing vassal princes as hostages is also suggestive of continuity with Christian Nubia. The ecology and mixture of subsistence economies were additional factors of continuity from medieval to Funj Nubia. The region's mix of sedentary farmers, camel and cattle pastoralists, hill peoples probably maintained or inherited much of the same lifestyle of their medieval forebears. Indeed, according to Spaulding, the early Funj kingdom from c.1504 was barely or only superficially Islamic. In fact, the commercial factors favoring Islamic conversion were probably paramount for Amara Dunqas choosing Islam. The Beja traders and their network linked to the Red Sea plus Islamic influences from northern Nubia and Egypt made Islam attractive for serving long-distance trade. 

Nonetheless, the Funj were carriers of a more "traditional" or "African" political system based on administered commerce under royal rule. As "divine" kings associated with life, death, and sustenance through a number or rituals, accession rites, and pre-Islamic belief, the sultan was legitimate to the peasantry by looking after their interests and, ideally, defending them from merchants who abused the sheil system of advancing grains or other goods to peasants before harvest time to trap them in debt. Intriguingly, Spaulding proposes that popular Sudanese religion was neither exceptionally Christian (medieval era) nor one of orthodox Islam. Popular belief under the Funj revolved around baraka (more as a life-force), saints (fuqaha believed to possess baraka) and veneration of these saints for the transference of baraka. Noticing parallels with a number of "traditional" African religious systems from Rwanda to Haiti, Spaulding suggests this worldview was gradually undermined by Funj rulers adopting orthodox Islam to appease Muslim merchants. 

This appeasement of merchants and embrace of orthodoxy, in turn, led to a decline in the legitimacy of the kingship and nobility to the peasantry, who saw traditional rites removed from kingship. Kings also sided with the orthodox Islamic merchants, even when the latter exploited their indebted peasants or stockpiled grain during times of famine. The decline of Sinnar and Abdallab rule, especially pronounced after 1762 and the subsequent wars of the Hamaj Regency against other parties, further eroded the government through increasing control of caravans by merchants. While the state declined and fragmented with provincial rulers battling for control or domination of routes and resources, the peasantry aligned with charismatic fuqaha whose virtues and Islamic piety were respected by all. These Islamic holy men defended the exploited peasantry and challenged kings. In response, rulers bestowed land grants upon them and gifts for receiving their prayers and virtues rather than spells or threats.

On the question of the Islamic holy men and the peasantry, Spaulding's analysis is perhaps most interesting. The obvious parallel for us is Borno and mallam-peasant relations. We know, like their counterparts in the Sinnar Sultanate, Borno's Islamic holy men received land grants with tax-free rights. Some of them also criticized the government and spoke on behalf of the peasantry and downtrodden. Moreover, they too included "insider" ulama and clerics who worked with or on behalf of the Sayfawa dynasty. What we would like to know more about is the local Bornoan merchant class during the same era, from c.1500-1820. Were they also ensnaring the peasantry in debt while pressuring the local government to practice more orthodox Islam? Since so many of the Sayfawa mais had performed the hajj and were a Muslim dynasty since the 11th century, the role of Borno or Kanuri merchants in promoting (or not) Islam must have been different than conditions in Sinnar. So, was the basis of the mallam-peasant alliance in Borno due to fief-holders overtaxing cultivators? It would be fascinating to discover more on Kanuri popular religion, especially how it transformed over time to become, in part, a challenge to established authority. Sadly, the only semi-detailed account we know from before the demise of the Sayfawa dynasty occurred in the 1820s among the Manga, but explicitly against Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi. Nevertheless, the "feki" associated with that rebellion bore many of the same characteristics as "outsider" fuqaha of the Funj Sultanate.

To conclude, Spauding's work is an indispensable source on the Funj. Beginning with the fragmentation of medieval Nubia and Funj origins until the Turco-Egyptian invasion, this dissertation attempts a promising synthesis of political and social history. It is possible later scholarship has challenged his characterization of medieval Nubian states as "Sudanic." Perhaps he was wrong in his characterization of pre-Christian, pre-Islamic Nubian religion. However, he was correct about continuity as a major element in understanding the flow of Nubia's history. And the Islamization and Arabization of the region was far more complex than what modern Sudanese traditions or external Arabic sources suggest. The Funj emerge as builders of the last great Nubian state, one that promoted the forces that ultimate transformed the Nilotic Sudan whilst simultaneously bearing the flame of an ancient civilization. One cannot help but wonder how things would have developed without the Egyptian invasion in 1821. 

Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia

After reading a short book on Alwa and revisiting Welsby and Ruffini, we decided to take another look at Vantini's Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia. We read Vantini back in 2020 during a past obsession with the question of Kanem relations to the Eastern Sudan. While one cannot deny the great use of having a compilation of various "Oriental" sources on Nubia from Late Antiquity to the early 16th century as a reference work, far too many of the extracts are incredibly repetitive. Some selections nearly repeat verbatim earlier chronicles or geographical texts, often adding little or no new information. These repetitions can be useful in terms of illustrating the sources for later writers, but makes for rather uninteresting reading. However, it was occasionally interesting to see how mistakes of copyists or authors introduced more confusion, such as transferring to the Nubians a description of the "Zaghawa" of Kanem. Or confusion mixing the Nubians with the Habasha or Beja when detailing relations between the Patriarchs in Alexandria and the southern Christian populations of the Sudan and Ethiopia. Some of these mistakes raise questions about the reliability of the included texts for parts of the "Sudan" and contain clearly legendary materials or outdated ideas derived from Ptolemy on the course of the Nile and the interior of Africa. 

In spite of the cultural, religious and perhaps racial bias of several of the sources, they are of paramount importance for understanding the societies of medieval Nubia. Although modern scholars are correct to stress the significance of relying on internal sources to reconstruct the history of the region, we have relied so heavily on external Arabic sources for West Africa during this same time. If historians have, over time, been able to match the external Arabic texts on West Africa with local archaeological, textual and oral sources, then one should be able to do the same for Nubia. After all, Nubia was even closer to the central Islamic lands and known to the ancient world for several millennia. If used judiciously, these sources tell us something, albeit not enough, of the kingdoms of Makuria and Alwa over a period of 1000 years. Sadly, Alwa was, despite its reputation as the wealthier kingdom, not as well known. But these sources have been used by scholars such as Zarroug for proposing some theories on the kingdom's likely role in east-west trade routes. 

Moreover, when interpreted together, the external Arabic sources point to connections between the different regions of the Sudanic belt of the African continent. We are unsure if some of the copyists or authors made a mistake here, but one source in Vantini actually refers to the ruler of Dahlak levying a duty on the ships of al-Kanam. Our first response is to think Kanem was connected to the Red Sea through ships commissioned by their rulers. There are also references by al-Idrisi to conflict between the Nubians and the Daju between Kanem and Nubia. Other sources mention war between the "Zaghawa" and Nubians. Additional sources point to the pilgrimage route that went from Upper Egypt through the Eastern Desert to Aydhab. Beja and Nubians may have interacted with travelers and traders from the Western and Central Sudan through those arenas, not to mention in Egypt itself. In addition, conflict between the Oasis Dwellers west of the Nile and the Nubians are casually referenced, leading us to wonder about Nubian interests in trade to the northwest and west. Despite their limitations, these sources possess a number of suggestive implications for cultural and economic connections across the "Sudan."Hopefully archaeologists in Chad and Sudan will uncover evidence. 

Alwa and Sudanic Africa

Although we have long considered Alwa to be the more interesting of post-Meroe states in Nubia, the limited archaeological excavations and fewer references in the external Arabic primary sources makes it more of an elusive entity. Mohi el-Din Abdalla Zarroug attempts to redress this with an admittedly speculative but provocative analysis of the kingdom of Alwa. Based on the ethnographic present (after assuming probable cultural continuity in the Nubian heartland for the last several centuries), archaeological surveys, and textual sources from Antiquity, Islamic lands, and later reports or narratives, The Kingdom of Alwa proposes an interesting interpretation of Alwa as the more powerful, wealthiest state of medieval Nubia. Instead of being a peripheral Nubian state, or, as Adams wrongly assumed, a "primitive" state based on the slave trade, Alwa may have been a major state whose influence radiated far to the east and west, perhaps vying with Kanem over influence in Darfur and what later became Wadai. 

Contrary to assumptions or expectations of Makuria being the dominant Nubian kingdom, often based on the far more extensive archaeological research in northern Nubia, Alwa appears to have been able to support higher population densities while benefitting from surplus crops (through riverine and rain-based agriculture), gold exports, hides, and long-distance trade. The interdependency of the pastoralist and agriculturalist populations of Alwa became the basis for a regional economy and local exchange. Gold, iron, ivory, leather, and salt also contributed to this economy, which must have connected Alwa to the Mediterranean, Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Sudanic, and trans-Saharan trade routes. The extent to which Alwa inherited aspects of Meroitic economic or administrative structures is unknown, but Zarroug sees evidence of "Meroitized" Noba in the region during the Late Meroitic Period, according to burial types and the Axumite inscription of Ezana. Geographical factors likely favored continuity, too, suggesting Alwa succeeded Meroe as the center of Nubia. This is also the impression one gains from the external Arabic sources like al-Aswani. 

Zarroug speculates that Alwa relied more on east-west trade routes that linked the kingdom to trans-Saharan routes as well as to the Red Sea. Ruins of structures in Kordofan and Darfur suggest Alwa (and probably Makuria, too) had a presence in western Sudan, likely connecting it to trade routes that led to the Fezzan and North Africa. Although the evidence is still lacking or perhaps waiting on confirmation from finds in Kanem, Darfur, and Soba, Zarroug's theory is quite plausible. We have long wondered to what extent Kanem may have played an early essential role in trade and cultural contacts across the Sudanic belt of the African continent. Hints of it can be seen in the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu or al-Idrisi, Ibn Said and oral traditions of Darfur suggestive of Kanem's influence further east. Perhaps Kanem and Alwa (and likely Makuria) exerted influence over the Daju and what later became Wadai as peripheral territories. Over time, secure trade routes developed which could link Alwa to the Fezzan and possibly establish a firmer "Sudan Road." The presence of Muslim traders in Alwa and Makuria may have facilitated this process, so that Christian Nubia did not represent an impenetrable barrier for Muslims of the Central Sudan.  

Monastic Holy Men of Early Solomonic Ethiopia

In our current quest to read as much as possible on Ethiopian history, with an emphasis on the Solomonic dynasty, we found Kaplan's The Monastic Holy Man and the Christianization of Early Solomonic Ethiopia to be a very readable overview and analysis. Drawing mostly from the hagiographical literature, Kaplan endeavors to elucidate the rise, function and socio-political context of the holy man. As in the case of Peter Brown's study of the Christian holy man, Kaplan finds some commonalities. However, the distinct origins of Christianity in Ethiopia in the Aksumite period, particularly its top-down origins, and the limitations faced by its Church, led to some important differences. This is perhaps most evident in the Ethiopian Church's dependence on Alexandria, and the lack of interest in evangelization shown by the Egyptian bishops and most of the Solomonic dynasts (except for Zara Yaeqob). 

Although monasticism and saints in the Ethiopian tradition predate the Solomonic "restoration" of 1270, Kaplan argues that the reigning dynasty created conditions favorable for monasticism. Local or provincial nobles who would have remained in political office gradually shifted to a religious vocation as heads of monastic communities in order to retain their power or authority in the face of an expanding Solomonic state, especially during the consolidation of the state under Amda Seyon. While Solomonic rulers supported monastic communities through gult lands and gifts, Kaplan's study suggests the monastic holy men, who were mostly from noble families, would have been partly pushed to monastic life in order to preserve their noble prerogatives as abbots. These abbots, who came from noble families and then received gult in some cases, often ran their gult in a similar manner as the provincial nobility or chiefs. While some holy men were not abbots, the vast majority in the hagiographical literature were heads of monastic communities. 

Some "houses" periodically entered into conflict with the Solomonic dynasty over doctrinal issues or the royal government's attempts to control the Church. Yet the noble origins of the monastic holy man and his frequent involvement with the state's military (through prayer and predictions) led to constant relations. Indeed, the holy man came to be a mediator between the government and the masses, just as he served a similar function as the intermediary of the Christian believers and God. The holy man likewise served as healer, tamer of wild beasts, exorcist, and missionary, spreading the Gospel to pagan or Muslim subject peoples. Unsurprisingly, the monastic holy man often became an important figure based on the variety of his services, connections to powerful people, leadership, and spiritual or religious power. Our hagiographical literature reflects this, and since they were initially written to glorify a saint, often contain numerous miracles or stories meant to enhance the stature of the holy man as an almost angelic being. 

Unfortunately, as missionaries, they usually failed to deeply plant the seed of Christian belief. Their ability to gain adherents to the faith was often through showing the superiority of Christianity in magic rituals or, in some cases, through political advantages Christianity presented to pagan secular leaders eager to limit or remove the religious leadership they shared their authority with. This might help explain why the Muslim invasions of the 16th century were often able to quickly convert parts of Ethiopia, since their Christianization never supplanted their previous traditional religious worldview. Nor were converts necessarily deeply imbued with Christian doctrine or belief. Of course, the lack of support for evangelization from the Solomonic state and Alexandria placed severe limitations on what the monastic centers could accomplish. Without an adequately trained clergy in sufficient numbers, Christianization of the empire was necessarily limited.

In spite of its brevity, and the problematic nature of the sources (though often validated by other traditions, chronicles, or sources), anyone interested in monasticism in Ethiopia or Christianity should read this. It helps us gain a better understanding of exactly who the monks and clerical leadership were in Ethiopia. Moreover, it helps to create a clearer picture of what happened on the ground as Christianity expanded beyond the traditional core of the Aksumite and Zagwe kingdoms. We think a possible comparison could be made with the ulama and the state in Borno or the mallam and the holy man. Perhaps there are similarities between the two beyond the superficial, and in spite of the differences between Christianity and Islam.