Daouada of the Fezzan

Daouada peoples of the Fazzan included in J. Despois's Géographie humaine. III in  Mémoires de la Mission scientifique du Fezzân.

One of the intriguing groups of the Fezzan region of Libya, said to be endogamous, are the Daouada. Described briefly in J. Despois's "human geography" of the region for the Mission scientifique du Fezzan project in the 1940s, they were said to live along the small lakes near the sandy dunes north of the Wadi al-Ajal. The group was also said to have worked the natron deposits. One of the specific areas said to have included Daouada residents, Brak ez Zaouiya, is in the Chati section of the Fazzan. Other settlements that included some Daouada were Tmessan, Edris, El Bouanis, Mandara, Gabr Oun,  and Trouna. Despois was careful to distinguish them from the descendants of slaves, suggesting this group was of distinct origin in the Fazzan and probably not of any "recent" slave origin. If so, one cannot help but wonder if they are the descendants of the "town" of Dawud mentioned by al-Idrisi in the 12th century. To al-Idrisi, who mistakenly wrote of Dawud as a "town" or city rather than an ethnic group spread out over a larger region, Dawud was south of Zawila. Clearly, al-Idrisi made some mistakes or misinterpreted his sources when writing about the Fezzan. Nonetheless, he contextualizes the people of Dawud with the pre-Islamic past of the region. According to him, the Dawud were the remnants of the pre-Islamic Fazzan population who did not flee when the Islamic conquests began. Is this possibly the origin of the contempt for the Daouada, their pagan ancestry? 

If the connection between the "Dawud" of al-Idrisi and the Daouada endogamous group of the colonial-era Fazzan is legitimate, then the Daouada may represent the autochthonous peoples who resisted the Islamic invasions and stayed in the land. Perhaps their ancestors were the Qazan, Fazzan, and Qaramatiyyun of early Islamic sources. Indeed, if the Daouada were actively involved in natron production and trade in medieval times, they may be the Qaramatiyyun mentioned by al-Muqaddasi who transacted with salt. Was their specialization in natron production part of the origin for the contempt in which they were held by later groups of the Fazzan? The problem with this narrative, however, is al-Idrisi's summary of the history of the region suggests Waddan was the political center rather than Garama. The earlier, 9th century description of the region by al-Ya'qubi, on the other hand, pointed to conflict between Waddan and the old Garamantian heartland. His sources indicated frequent conflict between the Mazata Berbers in Waddan against the people of the Fazzan, probably referring to the area around the Wadi al-Ajal. Perhaps this was another area in which al-Idrisi erred. 

Borno's Musketeers

 

Whilst perusing John Hunwick's Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire: Al-Sa'dī's Ta'rīkh Al-Sūdān Down to 1613 and Other Contemporary Documents we came across some intriguing allusions to Borno. In a translated source written by an unnamed Spaniard in 1591, some information pertinent to Borno reached the writer. According to his unclear sources, the ruler of Borno possessed 500 musketeers. The story about the conflict with the Turks is somewhat garbled and if relevant, might have been a reference to past disagreement over a fortress in the Fazzan. Intriguingly, the source does match other sources that speak of a Turkish presence in Borno (Anania, Ahmad b. Furtu) in the last few decades of the 16th century. 

Tarikh el Kawar

Michel Le Sourd's "Tarikh el Kawar" was published in Bulletin de l'I.F.A.N. in 1946. However, since the author was able to collect oral traditions from various parts of Kawar from people still old enough to recall precolonial days, there is some value in this rather short article. Lamenting the lack of interest by literate Kanuri and others in Kawar, Le Sourd attempts a broad overview of Kawar history based solely on oral traditions. Without even referring to the external medieval sources or references to the region from Kanem and Borno, Le Sourd's study is probably most useful for a glimpse of Kawar in the last 2 or 3 centuries. 

According to Le Sourd, the populations of Kawar in chronological order are the following: Soo (Sao), Konnas, Terras, Kanuris and Tubus. Unfortunately, none of his informants apparently gave him information on the Konnas and Terras, who were perhaps the people of Kawar when the region was described in medieval Arabic sources from the 9th century onward. As for the Sao, that appears to be a legend accompanying every Kanuri population. Indeed, some of the same traditions of the Sao familiar from Borno are repeated here, with a few minor differences. In fact, Fachi appears to have retained a stronger connection to legends of the Sao, perhaps a testament to the region's importance during the reign of Ali b. Dunama in his campaigns against Air (Le Sourd 4). However, Fachi traditions remember the sultan of Borno also killing the Sao of Fachi. Moreover, the story of the Kanuri using henna and a trick to trap the Sao is reported, even though this tradition is really more pertinent to the area of Birni Gazargamo or Borno proper (5). Alternatively, the memory of the Soo in Kawar could also be linked to the Tubu name for Seguedin, called Soo by those in the Tibetsi (15). Perhaps the name Soo for Segedin once covered a broader area of Kawar, but then mixed with Kanuri legends of the Sao? Intriguingly, the Sao are remembered in tradition for the use of the ksur or fortified sites across the area (2). Even the town name Agram supposedly means fortified village in Kanuri, although a possible Berber etymology has been proposed elsewhere (35). The Kanuri association of fortified sites with the Sao probably means that the towns or villages already had fortifications before their arrival, though the Kanuri may have expanded or maintained them. 

As for the Konnas and Terras, perhaps the latter is an allusion to the Tura? As in the Tura who also migrated to Borno and of whom some examples of early mahrams have been located. The early Tura mahrams suggest close ties between Kanem and Dirkou which began by the 1100s. Indeed, close relations between the rulers of Kanem and Dirkou (as well as other parts of Kawar) likely began before the 11th century. As for the Konnas, the appellation brings to mind a word used in Borno for pagans to the South, said to be associated with Kwararafa. Since it is highly unlikely for people from Kwararafa to have preceded the Kanuri in Kawar, if there is any connection with the Kwona or Kwoana in Borno, it may simply be a reference to a pre-Islamic population living in Kanem before its Islamization during the time of the Terras (Turas?).

With the arrival of the Kanuri, a better sense of the history of the region begins. According to his informants, Le Sourd found that nearly every site in Kawar was previously inhabited by the Kanuri when the Tubu arrived. Thus, the Kanuri were at Guezebi-Guassar first, before the Tubu (6). The Tomaghera Tubu who migrated into the area intermarried with them, becoming the Guezebidas (7). Similarly, Dirku was said to have had a Kanuri population already when the Tubu arrived (10). Furthermore, Kanuri were the first at Sara, Djado, and Djaba. When recounting the legend of Dalla Kerkaou of Sara, Le Sourd also alludes to the Tuareg of Air ruling Djado, but the chronology for this probably legendary story is ambiguous (16). Is this a reference to the period of Air control in Kawar during the 18th and 19th centuries, or referring to a more ancient conflict between the peoples of Air and Kawar? Last but not least, the Koyam were also present in villages stretching from Agram to Termit (28). Their presence in the region, if they are indeed the Kay referred to in the Diwan, is likely of far deeper antiquity and may be linked to the early salt trade between Kawar and Kanem-Borno.

Also of interest is Le Sourd's observations on differences in spoken Kanuri in Kawar. According to his observations, the Kanuri spoken in Fachi, Djado and Tedjerhe in the Fazzan are similar and distinct from other Kawar villages (23). It is also asserted that these areas were once closer to Zeila, too  (22). Although travel between the Kanuriphone populations was negatively impacted by insecurity, their similarities despite the distance between the Fezzan and Fachi illustrate the latter's economic importance. The similarities to Djado lead one to wonder if that area was once also more economically important for a short route to the Fezzan. Fachi certainly was of great economic significance for trade. Moreover, traditions suggest Fachi, or Agram, was also an important site as early as the 15th century for the Sayfawa ruler, Ali b. Dunama. Its links to the Koyam salt traders are areas worthy of further investigation. 

In summation, Le Sourd's exposition on Kawar history, based solely on oral traditions, raises a number of interesting questions. That the current peoples of the area, of Kanuri and/or Tubu origin, attribute a Sao presence predating other groups could likely be a result of widely shared Kanuri legends of the Sao. If so, then this suggests the Kanuri population may be associated with movement into Kawar during the period of Sayfawa rule in Borno. Since some of the legends current in Kawar even refer to traditions on the origins of Birni Gazargamo to the South, one wonders if the 1400s might be a plausible period of origin for some of the Kanuri in Kawar. Of course, the close relations between Kawar and Kanem before this period could also have led to Kanembu and Kanuri-speaking communities in the area long before the 15th century. But the traditions of the Kawar Kanuri of peoples called Konna and Terra preceding them may be an allusion to the pre-Islamic and medieval population of the oases. Their disappearance may have been due to a merging into the Kanuri population, as the Tura of Borno suggest.

Historical Materialism and the Kel Ahir

Kathleen O'Mara's A Political Economy of Ahir (Niger): Historical Transformations in a Pastoral Economy, 1760-1860 adopts a historical materialist approach to analyze transformations in the Ahir region's political economy once the Kel Owey federation become the dominant Tuareg group in that region. Focusing on class and a materialist interpretation allows greater clarity on how the Tuareg of this region of the Sahara shifted from a pastoral economy to a more centralized, agro-pastoral tributary economy in the 18th century. Thus, the transformations of the state and economy in the Ahir (or Air) region predate the jihad and establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate. According to O'Mara's view, the Ahir sultanate government's "glorious period" in the 1500s was not fully tributary, although the sultanate administration survived with the rise of Kel Owey hegemony and commercial expansion in order to protect the interests of the Tuareg elites, imajeren. Essentially, the seizure of the Kawar salines, especially Bilma, was an impetus for further trade and agro-pastoral expansion. This, in turn, was accompanied by the increasing centralization and development of a regional economy in Hausaland, particularly after the establishment of the Sokoto Caliphate. In other words, Borno's loss of Kawar in the 1760s favored the Ahir Tuareg, particularly the Kel Owey, who reaped huge profits from the sale of salt to Hausaland, where a burgeoning market and growing manufacturing (textiles, leather, etc.) centers in places like Kano fueled more Tuareg trade. 

Indeed, to O'Mara's view, Ahir became so connected to the larger, regional economy of the Central Sudan that trans-Saharan commerce became less important and Agadez's population moved to lands in the Sudan. The cycle fueled more economic growth as the Kel Owey, as well as other Tuareg groups, increasingly used captives and "free" dependents, often Kanuri, Hausa, or Dagera, to work farmland in Damergu. Agricultural production in the more fertile lands of the Sudan favored Tuareg commerce since the grain from these areas could be used to trade with the Kawar oases (and to ensure adequate grain supplies for the Ahir  region). This, of course, meant that the Ahir Tuareg could be less dependent on the meager agricultural resources of the Ahir region or from grain supplied by the independent Hausa states. With the growth of a Kel Owey commercial class investing in salt, agricultural production, livestock, and trade in textiles, slaves, leather products, and items acquired through trans-Saharan trade via the Fezzan or Ghat, the Ahir Tuareg system became a fully tributary one that maintained the dominance of the "nobles."  In fact, the continuance of the Ahir sultanate structure in Agades as an intermediary of Tuareg groups in Ahir, plus their own source of legitimacy via Islam, provided a balance with Kel Owey elites.

As one might expect in a highly unequal, hierarchical arrangement that was the Ahir political economy from 1760-1860, conflict within the elites (vertical) and between "nobles" and other groups (ineslemen, dependents of various types, etc.) was a constant. Dependents, both "free" and servile, could change masters easily and the Kel Ahir Tuareg had to find ways to maintain a system of exploitation of their labor. Like the free Dagera, Kanuri and Hausa groups conquered by Tuareg groups, the Tuareg "class" system allowed for significant local autonomy to settlements of slaves and others. In addition, manumission was frequent while intermarriage and absorption of captives into the lineage (as fictive children) meant enslavement was, according to Barth at least, less horrific than in other locales. One wonders, however, tow hat extent conditions here were similar with regard to slavery in the Sokoto Caliphate and Borno, where a history of slave settlements and even plantations existed. Nonetheless, O'Mara wishes to highlight how enslavement and exploitation of captives for their labor in agriculture, livestock rearing, carrying goods, or salt production was similar to the tribute extracted from "free" dependents in the Kel Ahir class system. Clerical lineages, too, tried to occasionally resist through the ideology of jihad or even becoming warriors themselves, yet they could not build a diverse enough coalition 

Through an ideology of noble dominance and control of camels, the most important animal in the pastoral economy, these nobles justified their position through the protection they could provide to dependents and clerical lineages. Their ownership of camels furthered their position as guides for caravans from North Africans, traders in their own rights, and for the use of camels to carry salt or other products. However, claims to noble status were always dynamic, and were frequently adjusted genealogically after the fact to legitimize the imajeren domination. This is connected to the purpose of the Agades Sultanate itself, instituted to resolve conflict between Tuareg groups in Ahir as well as to secure the overall interests of an elite group. Ongoing conflicts between the Kel Owey and others, naturally meant that the hegemony of any specific federation was always up for grabs, which in turn justified elite positions as "protectors" of their dependents against other Tuareg or non-Tuareg foes. 

This is all rather fascinating and engaging. However, some of what O'Mara proposes is either implausible or debatable. For instance, many of the political offices in the Ahir sultanate are of Hausa origin. Perhaps this suggests that the transformation of the Kel Ahir from a pastoral economy to a fully tributary one required the adoption of administrative features found in the Sudanic states to their south, especially Borno and the Hausa. Moreover, the increasing sedentarization of some Tuareg and the growth of agricultural ventures owned by Kel Ahir in Damergu, Zinder, or the Caliphate could be seen as similarly following patterns from Songhay, Borno, and Hausa history. Indeed, even the justifying ideology of elite rule via protection offered to dependents could be seen in the case of Borno, which failed to provide the necessary protection for its subjects in Kawar, western Borno, and northern Borno. Unlike Borno, however, the Ahir Tuareg federations structure and "looseness" and the ecological conditions of the southern Sahara could make it rather fragile. But, the exploitation of producers, a free and slave peasantry, seems to be a common for the Central Sudan, where chronic insecurity was also present despite the existence of large Hausa states or Borno (when it was a regional hegemon). 

Western Desert...

Sahara

We were once fascinated by 9th and 10th century Arabic sources referring to an oasis route that was formerly full of Rum and Copts whilst also partaking in a trade network that stretched as far as Ghana and Kawkaw in West Africa. Whilst the Arab sources say the route was in use until the 860s, and was utilized by Egyptians and Nubians to reach Libya, the Magrib or the Sudan (the land of "blacks") to the southwest. Although other trade routes did replace the one banned by the Tulunids, we are interested in the history of pre-Islamic trans-Saharan trade that linked the Western Oases of Egypt to sub-Saharan Africa. The evidence for this is slim. And what we could find in archaeological studies is simply an urbanization in the area during Roman Rule, which subsequently declined by the 4th and 5th centuries. Thus, it is possible that the growth of towns in the Oases during Roman and Byzantine rule was merely linked to a regional trade network to Egypt, Nubia, and parts of today's Libya. However, Ibn Hawqal's 9th century description of the area does suggest travelers from Egypt and Nubia used a route through these oasis region before the Arab conquest. And even after the shift in routes and the decline of the oasis town of Srbuh, the area was described in the 11th century by al-Bakri as being linked to today's Siwa oasis. The Egyptian oases were still full of people, including Copts living in their own village or in mixed contexts. 

We wonder if, perhaps, this earlier desert that was discontinued by the Tulunids may have once connected Egypt (and Nubia) with the Fazzan and, by extension, further south with Kawar, Marandet, Gao, and Ghana. If true, this could have been another avenue for Christian traders to reach the central Sahara and Sudanic regions. Of course, the picture of decline in the region centuries before the Arab conquest makes this less plausible. But we find it interesting how Kawar was described as exporting alum, like some of the oasis towns in the Western Desert. Kawarian traders were also described as traveling to the east using a route through the northeast by the 12th century. The Garamantes and their related peoples in the Fazzan would have already been linked to Augila and other oases to the east before the Islamic period, and it is likely that Kawar was known to the Garamantes (perhaps for a trade in salt, slaves, ivory, and other commodities?). Also, the survival of Christian communities in the aforementioned Egyptian oases could have been another vector for Christian influences in Sudanic Africa during the Middle Ages. For instance, perhaps Qasr Umm Isa in Kawar was named because of Coptic and/or Nubian travelers and traders who reached the area? We lack adequate knowledge of what transpired in the area of Darfur and Wadai but it seems likely that a medieval Nubian presence was felt much further west than we realize. One could imagine Christian influences via Nubia and, perhaps, the Saharan route that led to Egypt via its western desert played a role here. And, furthermore, from Ibn Hawqal, we learn that the Abdun rulers of the Oases had been in conflict with Nubia. Perhaps that conflict in the 9th century favored a Nubian route further west through Kordofan and Darfur to reach the Maghrib or Fazzan. 

Talaka

Talaka or talakawa means commoner in Hausa, but various sources attribute the word's origin to Kanuri or Tuareg (Berber). The term's widespread use among Berber-speaking communities as well a various Sahelian and West African cultures with links to trans-Saharan trade point to a Berber origin. The term's Berber origins can be seen in the following passage from Dictionnaire des racines berberes communes: Suivi d’un index français-berbère des termes relevés by M. A. Haddadou:

L£W luqqet « être pauvre, p. ext. être humble et doux , être humble, doux et pieux » selleqqet « rendre pauvre » taleqqe, pl. tileqqewîn « homme, femme pauvre » (To) taleqqi, pl. tleqqiwin « homme, femme pauvre » (Ghd) taleqqi « misère, pauvreté » (Wrg) taleqqi, pl. tileqqwin « pauvreté, misère » (Mzb)

Indeed, even deep into the Sahara, among the Tedas and Dazas, the word is used. Others point to its existence in Mandingue, Bambara and other West African languages. It is remarkable that a word to designate commoners and the poor is shared across so many cultures with links to the Sahara, Sahel, or trans-Saharan trade. Intriguingly, the word does not appear to be of Arabic origin. Perhaps its widespread occurrence across many languages in and around the Sahara is a testament to the increased role of trans-Saharan trade in social divisions and status? And, undoubtedly, the strong presence of Berber speakers among the Muslim traders and residents in the Sahel. 

The Survival of the Garamantes

Image from the World History Encyclopedia

We have been perusing the Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West Africa History and the reports and studies by archaeologists and wonder if the Garamantian state, in some form, persisted well into the Islamic era. We know from John of Biclar's chronicle that the Garamantes sent an envoy to the Byzantines in 568, which is after the Vandal Wars and after Justinian, according to Procopius, had built churches and promoted Christianity at Ghadames and among the Berbers in Tropolitania. Even though there is no evidence of conversion to Christianity in the 6th century Fazzan, we know the Byzantines at least reached some of their neighbors. This seems to imply some

Then we have a period where we know little about the Fazzan until the 660s, when Uqba b. Nafi arrived and imposed tribute on the Fazzan and Kawar. Just using Arabic sources from the medieval period, one finds references to Qaramantiyyun, Qazan, and Fazzani people as "Sudan" ("blacks") who were described as non-Muslims. Reading al-Tabari on the Zanj Revolt in 9th century Iraq, one finds references to people from the Fazzan among the Zanj (black) slaves. Sahnun, in the 800s, also quoted the opinion of Malik ibn Anas on the Fazzanis, implying that they were still non-Muslim blacks in the late 700 (see the fascinating article by Brunschevig on this). Then, al-Ya'qubi referred to the Fazzan region as ruled by a powerful chief who was always at war with the Mazata Berbers in Wadan.

The Mazata were Ibadites, and probably among the slave-traders described by the same author as operating in Zawila and Kawar. My guess is that Waddan and Germa were the centers of two different polities that dominated the region, and in Waddan and Zawila, the Ibadites and their trading network were powerful enough to be the victim of a raid from the Abbasids in c.762-763. Yet, over a century later, another part of the Fazzan region is described as independent. The polity controlling the section of the Fazzan in opposition to the Mazata at Waddan were likely the Garamantes, whose wars with the Ibadi Mazata would have led to some of them becoming captives sold into slavery abroad.

I think further evidence of this Garamantian state surviving longer can be seen in the remnant populations living at Germa and Tassawa described by al-Idrisi. Al-Idrisi seems to have been confused about the political layout of the land in the pre-Islamic era, but he described the people at these two towns using an irrigation system (perhaps the foggara in a far less intensive manner). My bet is that this remnant of the Garamantes engaged in trans-Saharan salt trade, since al-Muqaddasi described the Qaramatiyyun transact with salt. Maybe the Garamantes focused on the salt trade in the southern Fazzan and perhaps Kawar while the Mazata and other Berbers engaged in the slave trade with their Ibadi partners and Kanem? 

Anyway, al-Muqqadasi was the last source I know of to refer to a population called Garamantes (or something approximate). The Garamantes, at least in some form, survived as a distinct people until the end of the 10th or early 11th century, and were likely a heterogeneous Berber population. Islamization of Garama and its surroundings appears to have been complete by this time, too, with archaeologists like Mattingly reporting findings of a central mosque in the ancient Garamante capital. 

Garamantes and Christianity

One topic we hope archaeologists could potentially answer is the possible conversion of the Garamantes to Christianity in the 6th century. We know of at least 4 or 5 6th century sources that refer to Christianity among the Garamantes or with their neighbors, although the most direct source is John of Biclar. John of Biclar, whose chronicle mentioned Garamantian envoys to the Byzantines requesting peace and to become questions, gives a date of 568 or so. However, earlier references in the 6th century hint at a Christian presence among the Garamantes or their neighbors. For instance, Cosmas Indicopleustes, the famous 6th century traveler who is an important source on Aksum during this period, alluded to the land of the Garamantes as one that included churches. 

While Cosmas Indicopleustes may have writing rhetorically to suggest how universal Christianity was, it is interesting that he wrote around 550, several years before the Garamantes sent a delegation to the Byzantine Empire (to the coast or Constantinople?). In addition to these aforementioned writers, Procopius, whose Buildings includes a section on churches and construction in Libya and North Africa during the reign of Justinian. Like the others, Procopius  was writing around the middle of the 6th century, and according to him, the Byzantine Empire promoted Christianity in Ghadames, Augila (including a church for the Mother of God), and among various Berber peoples like the Gadabitani. He rebuilt and refortified cities like Leptis Magna, where he also constructed a chapel in honor of Mary. 

One more 6th century writer of the Roman Empire also alluded, indirectly, to the Garamantes. In his epic on the campaigns of John against the Berbers, Corripus wrote that neighbors of the Garamantes (Nasamonians) were part of the Berber alliance that attacked John. The genre and type of reference used by Corripus here is probably exaggerating the number and diversity of Berber foes John Troglita fought to portray him as a more heroic figure. Nonetheless, we know from earlier incidents that the Garamantes did occasionally participate or join in raids against the Romans on the coast of Libya in earlier centuries. If the Garamantes or their neighbors were involved in the conflict with John Troglita, perhaps it helps explain why they were seeking peace with the Byzantines by 568?

Additional references to the Garamantes in relation to Vandal North Africa (epigrams of Luxorius which reference Garamantes and their dark skin) and the Mediterranean can be found. And The Archaeology of the Fazzan series found evidence of ongoing trade and exchange with the Mediterranean at Garamante sites. However, no evidence of a church has been found at the capital of the Garamantes or any other site. In fact, archaeologists found evidence for the persistence of use of pagan temples. Indeed, Islam itself does not appear to have spread in the capital of the Garamantes for a few centuries after Uqba b. Nafi attacked Garama. Brunschevig also cited evidence that suggests the Fazzanis were pagans in the late 700s. So, what happened? Was Christianization of the Garamantes real or did the distance and realities of Byzantine rule in coastal Libya make it an ineffective mission? Or was the Fazzan already fragmented with a state or chiefdom based at Waddan and, perhaps, Zawila, the real centers of the Fazzan who were more likely to have received an actual church? Was Knut Vikor's theory correct about Qasr Umm Isa in Kawar being Jado (Djado)? If so, perhaps the place name is a testament to that era of 6th century Christian expansion, though we lack any evidence that the Kawar site ever hosted Christians. Besides this speculative theory, references in the early Arabic sources to Egyptians and Rum on an oasis route that connected Egypt to areas of the western Sudan may hint at contacts with Copts and Byzantines in the desert via Fazzan and Kawar. 

On the Garamantes

Charles Daniels wrote, in 1970, a short but summative work on the Garamantes. Of course, archaeologists and historians of today have access to more data, surveys, and excavations, including work at other sites across the Sahara. Nonetheless, Daniels, limited as he was by the state of archaeological research of his time and the handful of references to the Garamantes from Roman sources or Herodotus, was able to carefully wade through the confused or biased external sources and make some sense of the data from archaeology. Clearly, the Garamantes were not tent dwelling nomads or barbarians who lived only through brigandage. And while their material culture and architecture did seem to improve with the increase in imported goods from the Mediterranean, one wonders if craftsmen from the north were always responsible for the finer monuments and buildings. The Garamantes, as a civilization with roots in the last millennium before our era, and with ties to various advanced cultures, was perhaps capable of adapting and mastering other construction techniques besides mudbrick. That said, one wonders if the Garamantes were, as indicated by Daniels, more of a confederation. Therefore, their kingdom, despite most of its population probably being sedentary and living in the Fazzan oases, may have included Saharan pastoralists who did, occasionally, engage in banditry and attacks on Roman North Africa. This might explain part of the reason the Roman sources portrayed the Garamantes as Saharan bandits, if some of the allied Berber populations did attack coastal areas. 

In addition, Daniels draws from the general ancient literature on various Berber peoples across Libya and the Sahara to speculate about specific Garamantian customs and beliefs. He is likely correct about certain things, like the use of the Berber language, the Ammon cult, the practice of divination, and "looser" gender roles and polygamy among the Garamantes being shared with other Berber cultures. However, despite his acknowledgement of the racially mixed character of the Garamantes, he did not address the sub-Saharan and perhaps Tubu influences in Garamantian civilization. Surely, if the Garamantes were sometimes lumped into the "black" category by ancient Roman sources and were lumped into the "Sudan" category by medieval Arabic sources, the Garamantes likely exhibited many cultural traits of non-Berber origin, too. 

Revisiting Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert

Due to a rekindled interest in the history of Sufism in Kanem and Borno, we decided to revisit H.T. Norris's Sufi Mystics of the Niger Desert. Largely consisting of a translation of the Qudwa (at least part of it likely written in the late 17th century or certainly before the 1800s) with commentary and additional contextual information on Sidi Mahmud al-Baghdadi and the question of Sufism in the region of Air, the study is of great potential importance for understanding how Sufism functioned in the Sahel and Central Sudan. While Sufism in, say, Kanem-Borno, was undoubtedly of greater antiquity than the appearance of Sidi Mahmud in the Air region in the first half of the 16th century, various sources connect the Mahmudiyya with later Islamic scholars, holymen, and mystics in the Central Sudan. For instance, Shehu Uthman dan Fodio, was initiated into Sufism with a silsila that linked to Sidi Mahmud. In addition, Uthman dan Fodio lived for some time in Agadez and was undeniably exposed to those who followed in or were influenced by the "Way" of Sidi Mahmud. Furthermore, Muhammad Bello, whose writings on Air and Mahmud al-Baghdadi bear an uncanny resemblance to the Qudwa, also revered the memory of this Sufi mystic. Moreover, North African sources similarly attest to the far-ranging contacts and influences of the Mahmudiyya and Air Sufism. Shaykh Ahmad al-Yamani, a native of the modern Sudan, visited Air after spending time in Kalumbardo, a Sufi settlement in Borno. According to al-Yamani, who reported on Kalumbardo and the Mahmudiyya in Morocco, reputation of Sufis like Shaykh Ahmad al-Sadiq b. al-Shaykh Uwayis al-Lamtuni was of the highest standing. 

What is particularly useful for our interests, with regard to the Mahmudiyya, is their possible influence on or shared characteristics with Kalumbardo. While Norris suggests Sidi Mahmud had links to Anatolia and the Muslim East in his approach to Sufism, the Qudwa mentions, with some detail, the practices of dhikr, wird, khalwa, discipline, fasting, ritual ablutions, meditation and group prayer and states of ecstasty achieved by members via prayer. Mahmud did not reject fiqh, either, since he saw the need for both fiqh and gnostic, mystical knowledge. However, his pursuit of ma'rifa and importance of his status as a sharif may have been more unique traits of his particular moment, perhaps including the prohibition on taking the lives of animals during retreats, too. According to the Qudwa, the sultan of Agades had Sidi Mahmud executed after jealous jurists convinced him that the Sufi leader posed a threat to his throne. Only after the fact did the Agades Sultan, Ahmad b. Tilzay, discover that Mahmud truly was an ascetic Sufi and sharif. The tale of his martyrdom has not been corroborated by other sources, although writing by Ahmad Baba from the early 1600s suggests that the Mahmudiyya were heretical mytics who believed that the only "Way" was through their own, rejecting some of the main tenets of the Islamic faith.

The Koyam Sufis and ascetics, descendants of the Kalumbardo community dispersed after a Tuareg attack eradicated Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi's community, represent an interesting tradition of Islamic mysticism in the Central Sudan. According to Norris, their prayer rituals resemble those of the Mahmudiyya. Moreover, evidence from the Nashr al-Mathani points to contacts between Kalumbardo and the Air mystics. Further, some of the early followers of Sidi Mahmud were Hausa and Fulani, and Tuareg were also known at Kalumbardo. To what extent the Kalumbardo community of Abdallah al-Burnawi was directly linked to the first settlement associated with a Tuareg, al-Jarmiyu, and a Fulani, Waldede, is muddled in Muhammad Bello's account. However, the earlier Kalumbardo community was destroyed by Umar b. Idris of Borno, who had al-Jarmiyu executed while Waldede fled to Bagirmi. If the community led by Shaykh Abdallah al-Burnawi was following similar Sufi practices yet met favor with Ali b. Umar of Borno, then the asceticism and mysticism of the second Kalumbardo community was perhaps similar to that practiced in Air by the Mahmudiyya. 

What is truly amazing then is the vast network of Sufism and its political impact in the Central Sudan. For example, the founder of the Wadai sultanate, said to have studied in Borno and Baghirmi, may have been influenced by Kalumbardo through the Bagirmi center of Bidderi, which included Fulani with ties to the early Kalumbardo settlement suppressed by Umar b. Idris. Shehu al-Kanemi was also said to have had ties to the Koyam, the descendants of the Kalumbardo community led by Abdallah al-Burnawi. Likewise, subsequent Koyam shaykhs, descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi, were also connected with the Sayfawa dynasty and protecting the frontier of Borno. Of course, ongoing links to Air and Hausaland were also ongoing, providing a possible additional influence on the spread of Sufism in the Hausa kingdoms. While the origins of Sufism in Kanem-Borno surely predate the 16th and 17th centuries, the Mahmudiyya provide a window into how one community may have functioned for centuries in the area. Remarkably, the descendants of Abdallah al-Burnawi persisted into the 20th century, proving themselves to be long-lasting and effective at forging a long-lasting relationship with the Sayfawa. 

Saharan Jews and al-Maghili

John Hunwick's short study of al-Maghili and the Jews of Tamantit is a fascinating read. Although our interest in al-Maghili is mainly in his time and influence in Hausaland and Songhay, learning about other aspects of his Islamic scholarship and biases sheds furhter light on the full social and intellectual context of his era. Unfortunately for the Jews of Tamantit and those in Songhay, al-Maghili was able to rouse anger and resentment against them for having a synagogue, dressing like Muslims, and enjoying close ties to rulers. According to al-Maghili and other Islamic scholars, such behavior was a violation of the pact that protected dhimmis. Thus, the Jews of the Saharan oasis lost their synagogue and much of its population fled. Furthermore, through al-Maghili's influence on Askia Muhammad of Songhay, Jews were banished or prevented entry to Timbuktu. Although Jewish traders and residents appear to have been allowed back in Timbuktu by the late 18th century, such a move by Askia Muhammad indicates the degree to which he was influenced by al-Maghili's views. 

Moreover, it must have played a role in redirecting or perhaps even harming parts of the trans-Saharan trade routes that connected the Western Sudan and the Maghrib. Indeed, if Jews in North Africa and Saharan towns like Touat and Sijilmassa were important for financing and conducting trade across the desert, banning them from Timbuktu and attacking them in North Africa must have weakened. Hunwick, however, sees the tightening of restrictions and, basically, pogroms, against Jews in parts of North Africa as a result of growing economic pressure during an era of burgeoning European penetration of Africa. Jews, an increasing population due to expulsions from Spain may have become the scapegoats as Islamic scholars like al-Maghili sought to target them through religious policy. Such a theory is plausible, although one wonders if Jewish traders simply shifted their Sudan trade networks further east and west, perhaps to the benefit of regions like Fazzan, Borno, and parts of Hausaland. Despite al-Maghili's influence in late 15th century Kano, one does not hear of anti-Jewish harassment or policies. Indeed, even with hints of anti-Jewish prejudice in one of the Borno documents collected by H.R. Palmer, there never appears to have been an attempt by Borno rulers to target Jewish traders or prohibit their entry. 

The Zaghawa and Early Kanem

Terio Abdelkerim's Origine et évolution des Zaghawa: Du royaume du Kanem aux Etats modernes (VIIIe-XXIe siècle) is a worthy effort to unveil the deeper history of the Zaghawa peoples and the kingdom of Kanem. Although we have reached rather different conclusions on the early history of Kanem and the relationship between the so-called Duguwa dynasty and the Sayfawa, Abdelkerim uses oral traditions and a familiarity with the history of Zaghawa or Beri clans across Chad and Sudan to illustrate the clear "Zaghawa" origin of the ruling clan of Kanem. However, as indicated by the Diwan and Kanuri, Kanembu, and Tubu traditions and clan names, the modern Zaghawa (Koubara, Wegui, Touba Koube as the three main groups with smaller clans and divisions) have ancient ties to the Teda, Daza, Kanembu and Kanuri groups. 

Indeed, if the Diwan is reliable on the mothers of various early mais, the ruling Zaghawa of Kanem intermarried with Tubu and Kanembu clans. Furthermore, as the Teda, Daza, and Zaghawa were mobile pastoralists, they also migrated back and forth through the Tibetsi, Ennedi, Borku, Kawar, Kanem, Borno, and other regions. The Zaghawa today, located on the frontier between Chad and Sudan, possibly migrated there in larger numbers after the so-called replacement of the Duguwa (Banu Duku) dynasty by the Sayfawa in the late 11th century. Or, alternatively, given the wide expanse of territory between Lake Chad and the Nile occupied by related Nilo-Saharan pastoralists, the "Zaghawa" of the medieval Arabic sources was actually a reference to the entire ensemble of black pastoralists in the central Sahara. This would probably explain why the "Zaghawa" were already known to Arabic sources as early as the beginning of the 8th century, since black Saharan populations west of Nubia and south of the Fazzan may have already formed the early state of Kanem to the south.

In addition, linguistics possibly supports a "Zaghawa" or Beri affinity for the early rulers of Kanem. According to al-Yaqubi, writing in 872, the kingdom of Kanem was "Zaghawa" and called Kakira. The Zaghawa language, however, retains the word kireh for emperor or kings, as indicated by Abdelkerim. We are thus inclined to view al-Yaqubi's brief account of 9th century Kanem as evidence of a Zaghawa ruling clan that must have been related to various Teda, Daza and proto-Kanembu groups through marriage. Indeed, genetics likely supports this scenario as population admixture studies of Chadian groups indicates mixing between a group of Eastern African origin with one of West-Central African origin around 1000 years ago. Of course, the Tubu of Chad also have significant Eurasian ancestry that reflects deeper histories of Eurasian backflow into this part of Africa. Nevertheless, this must have been the fusion of the Zaghawa, Teda, and Daza with sedentary populations already in Kanem and the Chad Basin. Their fusion would ultimately lead to the Kanembu and Kanuri populations. Perhaps the use of the term Beriberi by the Hausa to refer to the Kanuri is actually an allusion to the Zaghawa, or Beri, peoples?

Unfortunately, Abdelkerim believes the Zaghawa language is a Berber one and its population of Berber origins because of Ibn Khaldun and other medieval writers. Since some of them have classified the "Zaghawa" as Berbers or mentioned their use of the litham, many scholars have uncritically repeated this. However, the alleged Berber influence was probably restricted and more likely than not simply a case of Berbers in the Sahara and Sahel who were assimilated into Tubu and Zaghawa populations. After all, even al-Idrisi cited a similar case of this in the Sahara during the 12th century. The Nilo-Saharan language family of the Zaghawa and all the available evidence from the Diwan and Kanuri oral traditions supports an early ruling dynasty of Teda, Daza, and Zaghawa origin. Even the name Dugu or Duku, remembered as Douk Bourme in Zaghawa oral tradition, is a further testament to Zaghawa origins. Even if the name as remembered by the Zaghawa meant courageous young man with light skin, this does not require a Berber origin. "Red" and "black" clans among the Tubu, for instance, could be what the Diwan was referring to when they identified the first "black" mai as only appearing in the late 12th century. 

In consideration of the available evidence, one can justifiably question whether or not there really was a dynastic change from the Duguwa to the Sayfawa in the 11th century. Abdelkerim agrees with scholars such as Lange who see dynastic change because of the language of one copy of the Diwan or a few other sources. However, since the Diwan, Ahmad b. Furtu, and Kanuri oral traditions and Magumi sub-clan divisions support overall continuity from the Duguwa to the Sayfawa, one can plausibly reject the theory. Even if it is true that the Sayfawa embrace of Islam was resisted by some of the Zaghawa ruling elite in Kanem, who had to be replaced by Humme, one is still left in the dark about why the Magumi royal clan of the Sayfawa retained divisions claiming descent from pagan Duguwa mais? Moreover, why was the last Duguwa mai remembered as Abd Abd al-Galil, a very Arabic name? We are inclined to believe that some of the 11th century mais of Kanem may have already embraced Islam, perhaps the Ibadi sect which was active in the nearby Fazzan? 

After all, centuries of trade and contact with Ibadi traders and even Berber merchants in Kawar would have facilitated the spread of Islam by the 1000s. Perhaps the Sayfawa were really just a more devout, Sunni Muslim branch of the ruling elite who saw greater benefit through the full embrace of Sunni Islam. Whether or not this actually precipitated a mass exodus or dispersal of Zaghawa to the east is unknown, as Kanem may have exerted influence on "Zaghawa" and "Daju" in the Chadian-Sudan borderlands. As for Islam's impact on the ruling dynasty and possible anti-Muslim resistance, perhaps it is important to note the late and slight Islamization of various Tubu and other populations in Kanem and Borno. If the masses were, for the most part, left alone, and some pre-Islamic rituals like coronation rites or certain beliefs in the king's power to influence fertility of the land persisted, then the conversion to Islam could have been accomplished in a manner that did not necessarily trigger too much resistance. Perhaps something comparable to various coronation rituals and harvest festivals later observed for the Keira sultans of Darfur was practiced by the early Muslim mais of Kanem.

If the rulers of Kanem had already, by this time, been accustomed to wearing fine textiles imported from trans-Saharan trade and interacting with Muslims for centuries, it is possible that a Muslim faction was already present in the court at Manan. Like Ghana in the Western Sudan, perhaps there were local and foreign Muslims already incorporated into the administration by this time. If our admittedly speculative theory is correct, then Kanem before the reign of the first Sayfawa mai may have had Islamic rulers or at least prominent Muslim administrators, traders, and teachers. Perhaps, although our only evidence is al-Bakri, a branch of the Ummayads may have fled to Kanem. Like the later recorded history of the Sayfawa, maybe members of the royal family already converted and began their study of Islam through the help of pious teachers like Muhammad b. Mani. Muslim traders established in Kawar and the Fazzan would have been an additional vector for Islamic propagation that might have appealed to the rulers of Kanem. Embracing the religion officially would have increased the stature of the kingdom to many of its Muslim trading partners and perhaps offered way for a new branch of the ruling family to build alliances with powerful allies. 

In conclusion, the Duguwa and Sayfawa were really one single dynasty. The Zaghawa or Beri origins can be deduced from the external Arabic sources. The "Zaghawa" in the Arabic sources likely included various related populations like the Teda and Daza. Over time, the Zaghawa kingdom of Kanem, which may have arose as early as the 500s in Lange's view, became known through trans-Saharan trade. A growing Muslim presence in Kawar and Kanem itself would have created conditions propitious for an eventual royal conversion. Since many of the Tubu and Zaghawa groups were nomadic or semi-nomadic and likely not forced to convert, Kanem's Islamization did not necessarily create a Zaghawa exodus to the east. The evidence for dynastic continuity throughout the history of Kanem-Borno may be further deduced from Magumi clan divisions claiming descent from various pre-Sayfawa kings. The incorporation of various sedentary populations already established in Kanem when the Saharan forebears of the Duguwa/Sayfawa entered the region were gradually incorporated into the state to the point where even non-Kanembu groups claimed descent from pre-Islamic kings like Bulu. Amazingly, references to the Zaghawa role in the origins of Kanem may be recalled in the Hausa appellation of Beriberi for the Kanuri. 

Awlad Muhammad Dynasty and Borno

Habiba Wada's El-Hesnawi's thesis, Fazzan Under the Rule of the Awlad Muhammad: A Study in Political, Economic and Intellectual History is a must for anyone interested in the history of the Fazzan region of Libya. Although focused on the Awlad Muhammad dynasty which dominated the important area of the Central Sahara from c.1500 to 1813, the El-Hesnawi draws on the earlier history of the Fazzan and its importance in trans-Saharan trade. Indeed, the Fazzan is distinct for being one of the earliest regions important in trans-Saharan trade since Antiquity. And the Awlad Muhammad dynasty itself is a testament to the Fazzan's central role as a crossroads of Egypt, the Maghrib and the Sudan. For any deeper understanding of Kanem-Borno in its Saharan and Sudanic context, one must include the Fazzan in the analysis. Based on oral traditions and some of the surviving documents from the Fazzan, Tripoli, Ottoman, and European archives, a glimpse at the Awlad Muhammad becomes feasible.

Most of the thesis focuses on the Awlad Muhammad dynasty's Fazzani context. It's origins began with Muhammad al-Fasi, a sharif who chose to settle in the Fazzan after returning from Mecca. Said to have come from the Maghrib or western Sahara, El-Hesnawi's thesis emphasizes the importance of the Fazzan as a region of settlement and stop on the pilgrimage route for those coming from the West. Murabitun and those of sharif origin were especially welcome for their piety and Islamic scholarship. Muhammad al-Fasi appears to have used that to build a power-base and eventually establish a ruling dynasty that persisted until the 19th century. In some respects, the rise of the Awlad Muhammad mirrors that of the "Istambulawa" of Air in the 1400s. Like the early sultans of Agades, Muhammad al-Fasi was a mediator between conflicting groups in the Fazzan. 

Through their ability to arbitrate and neutralize opposition (or most of it, save the Khurman), the Awlad Muhamamd established a relatively stable dynasty that united most of the Fazzan. According to El-Hesnawi, patronage of the murabitun and those of sharifian origin helped tremendously with buttressing the new order. In addition, certain Arab and regional chiefs were given tax-free status and incorporated into the regime. Like the Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno, land grants and tax-free exemptions were awarded to several murabitun who then served in the administration. The Awlad Muhammad later relied heavily on slave officials, heavy taxation on the commoners, duties on trade, and the region's geography to thrive economically. Indeed, El-Hesnawi cites evidence of past wealth in what are today ruined villages or destitute areas of the Fazzan. Agriculture, however, once thrived in the oases and the Fazzan even exported some crops to other regions like Tripoli. 

In short, the Awlad Muhammad built a stable regime on the foundations of trade, support for the pilgrimage, taxation (often onerous, but perhaps mainly due to unscrupulous officials), and heavy patronage for Islamic scholars. The administration inherited terms of Kanuri origin, but El-Hesnawi suggests the meaning of the terms in practice often differed. In fact, the author suggests the period of direct Kanem rule of the Fazzan was rather brief. Due to political instability among the Sayfawa and then the wars with the Bulala, it is likely that the Banu Nasir dynasty appointed by Kanem became independent very quickly. This dynasty, which perhaps was the origin of the Kanuri titles used by subsequent Fazzani rulers, was proceeded by the Khurmans and a period of political chaos or conflict. 

As for the Fazzan's relations with Borno and the Sayfawa, El-Hesnawi's thesis argues against some of our assumptions. For instance, due to the constant conflicts between the pashas of Tripoli and the Awlad Muhammad, it is possible that the dynasty was not politically aligned with the Sayfawa. The interest of the Sayfawa dynasts in direct ties with Tripoli support this contention. In fact, when an Awlad Muhammad ruler did indeed flee to Borno due to an invasion from Tripoli, he was executed. Ibn Ghalbun and other sources claim Umar b. Idris did this because the Fazzani sultan had blinded his nephews, but Borno's close ties with the rulers of Tripoli would have also been a factor. Indeed, this helps explain why so many Awlad Muhammad rulers fled to Katsina or Agades in the 1500s and 1600s rather than Borno. The Sayfawa, eager to maintain close ties with Tripoli as the northern terminus of trans-Saharan trade (and the origin of European and Mediterranean goods), might have been more often than not on the side of the pashas in Fazzan-Tripoli conflicts. 

Moreover, the Awlad Muhammad rulers, being so close to Kawar, might have preferred Katsina and Agades as sources of refuge and political support due to fears of a Sayfawa expansion. For instance, other scholars suggest part of the reason Idris b. Ali (Idris Alooma) sent an envoy to the Ottoman capital was due to their own territorial interests in the Fazzan. El-Hesnawi, on the other hand, said the mission was partly motivated by the Ottoman official briefly in charge of the Fazzan invading as far as Kawar or Lake Chad. In our opinion, the Awlad Muhammad probably were eager to maintain some distance from Gazargamo to preserve their own autonomy. However, the necessities of trade and the short route between Tripoli and Lake Chad through the Fazzan meant trade, contact, and migration were probably constant. The Awlad Muhammad, as El-Hesnawi indicates, were additionally friendly to all pilgrims passing through their domain. The numerous Sayfawa mais who performed the hajj often passed through the Fazzan, which would have created close ties already strongly based on trade, Islam, and cultural exchanges.

Last but certainly not least, El-Hesnawi cites one tradition suggesting a large-scale movement of people from Kanem into the Fazzan during the 1200s.  This could be true, as the Diwan indicates that mai Arku established colonies of slaves in Kawar during the 11th century. It is not inconceivable that the Sayfawa rulers in the 1200s were not pursuing similar colonization policies. Indeed, this might explain part of the strong Kanuri and Sudanic influence in the Fazzan noted in European sources. After all, the Awlad Muhammad princes and rulers were sometimes noted to be brown and "black" and Kanuri and Hausa were widely spoken in Murzuq and other parts of the area. This cannot be solely due to the large-scale slave trade that persisted for several centuries. The importance of "black" qadis, settlers, traders, pilgrims, and princes passing through or living in the Fazzan must have contributed to the "Sudanic" character noted by European or Ottoman travelers. After all, even the capital of Murzuq used Kanuri words to designate parts of the city and the people sang songs in the "Sudanic" style rather than that of the Maghrib. The Fazzan of the Awlad Muhammad was, like that of previous Fazzan polities, profoundly shaped by the Central Sudan and a testament to the Sahara as a bridge rather than barrier. If only we could trace this earlier in the period of the Garamantes and uncover more sources on Fazzan's links with Lake Chad.

Libyan History

John Wright's revised and updated A History of Libya is a worthy and problematic introduction to Libyan history. Any attempt to encompass over 2000 years of history in a short book is doomed, so it mostly covers the 20th century and the Gadafi (Gaddafi) regime. Wright, though revising and updating this general history to include the fall of Gaddafi during the Arab Spring, retained a number of perhaps outdated or incorrect assertions. For example, Wright must have written the initial form of this book in an era when proponents of large-scale trans-Saharan trade in Antiquity were more influential. Wright also misidentifies Dunama of the Sayfawa dynasty as a Borno king even though Kanem was still the core province. Sometimes Wright's characterization of Libya's dependence on oil seems a little unfair, particularly for repeatedly referring to its oil wealth as unearned even though Libya was just exploiting a valuable resource. Of course, historians or scholars today in 2022 would also have more sources to piece together the tumultuous final days of Gaddafi and the continual unrest in Libya today. Perhaps with the benefit of hindsight, we know the consequences of NATO intervention in the Libyan civil war eventually contributed to the multifaceted crises in that country and the plight of migrants in the Mediterranean. 

Despite our quibbles with Wright's general history, it perfectly demonstrates a number of interesting points pertinent to our interests in Kanem-Borno and trans-Saharan contacts between Tripoli and the Chad Basin. Wright begins with the prehistoric Sahara, Phoenician settlements, Greeks in Cyrenaica, the Garamantes, and the expanding Roman Empire. While this is not directly relevant to Kanem-Borno, the early appearance of the Garamantes and Tripolitania's position between the Sahara and the Mediterranean illustrates the significance of Libya: a bridge between the Mediterranean and the vast African interior. Obviously the scale and value of trans-Saharan trade and contacts between the Mediterranean coast of Libya and sub-Saharan Africa increased after the Arab conquests. And Tripolitania under Roman rule appears to have been far more self-sufficient agriculturally, exporting to Rome a surplus. So, Tripoli after the Arab conquest, especially after the Banu Hilal migrations, became less successful in terms of its agrarian economy and increasingly reliant on its corsair activity in the Mediterranean as well as trans-Saharan slave trading. Even if this activity was parasitic, as suggested by Wright, it supports an assertion by Dewiere that Tripoli relied more on the trans-Saharan trade than Borno. Consequently, the trans-Saharan factor in Libyan history is a huge one that developed over time since the Garamantes of the Fezzan, a merging of Mediterranean and African networks that benefitted Libya.

However, most of Wright's book is actually on 20th century Libya. The decades-long Italian conquest, not truly accomplished until Fascist Italy completed the process in the 1930s, represents an interesting convergence of fascism and colonialism. Drawing on the past of the Roman Empire in Tripolitania, Mussolini's Italy actually invested far more in Libya than they took out it. Their vision of the "Fourth Shore" as a settler colony for peasant farmers of Italy was disrupted by World War II. Libya in the postwar years became a Sanussi kingdom which, through oil, became less dependent on aid or leasing military bases to Britain and the US. With the arrival of Gaddafi, an extremely long dictatorship would usher in various failed political, social and economic reforms with the use of oil revenue. Sanctions, tensions with the West, and failed pan-Arabism eventually led Gaddafi to a rapprochement with the Western powers before his ignominious fall. Throughout its rocky years as an independent state, Libya remained a nation in spite of the strong regional cleavages and other differences within its population. The Fezzan, Cyrenaica, and Tripolitania might as well have been separate nations. 

Intriguingly, Gaddafi's attempts to turn himself into a pan-Africanist hero and expand Libyan influence in sub-Saharan Africa represented a modern version of Libya's historic role as the crossroads of Africa and Europe. While undoubtedly opportunistic and a failure in the despot's war with Chad, it is remarkable that Gaddafi's African "turn" developed in a context where Libya was far less connected to sub-Saharan Africa than it once was. Over the course of the several millennia of known Libyan history, the link to Saharan and sub-Saharan Africa has always been a factor whose magnitude has varied across time. One region of modern Libya, the Fezzan, may been seen as "Sudanic" during some phases in its history. In that regard, the history of this North African nation is indicative of how closely entwined the worlds of Africa and Europe have been since the Roman Empire, even if its legacy has not always been for the best, as the tragedy of Libya today indicates.

The Oasis of Salt

Knut S. Vikør's The Oasis of Salt: The History of Kawar, a Saharan Centre of Salt Production is required reading for anyone interested in the history of Kawar and Kanem-Borno. While suffering from a number of typos, this book actually surpasses the incomplete history of Kawar written by Marguerite Le Coeur. Unlike her work, Vikør reaches more level-headed conclusions and theories while also challenging Lovejoy on the economic and political dimensions of Kawar and the salt trade (slavery was marginal to salt production). Of course, as its focus is on Kawar, Kanem and Borno only appear in references to the Kanuri population of the region or in periods when direct authority of Kanem-Borno in the region was attested by various sources. Thus, Kawar is the center of this history, showing how a periperhal central Saharan oasis (and nearby Fachi and Jado) could be significant in the Sudanic salt trade as well as trans-Saharan contact. Kawar as a center-periphery is a key theme here, shifting in its reception of varying cultural influences based on the power dynamics of the Central Sudan and Sahara.

Vikør begins the study with an overview of Kawar, the geography, the relevant populations and the method of salt production. This precedes the second half of the book's chronological analysis, but is very helpful for contextualizing Kawar, Fachi and Jado. Then, the rest of the history analyzes Kawar from the time of Herodotus and the ancient Garamantes to the French colonial conquest. Le Coeur's earlier published history covers the same era, but does not rely on questionable assumptions (Le Coeur believed the Tomagra and Kaye were "Berbers"). In fact, Oasis of Salt is a very careful reading of Kawar's history based on our limited sources. Thus, moving from Herodotus and references to the Garamantes in the south from the Roman era, Vikør endeavors to cautiously interpret the various medieval Arabic sources from the 9th century to the late 14th. Moreover, for those able to read Arabic, an appendix includes the original texts with Vikør's translations. Needless to say, his interpretation of some of these Arabic sources is nuanced enough to give a more accurate impression of Kawar from the 7th century onwards. 

While we may never the full historicity of Uqba b. Nafi's "conquest" of Kawar or what exactly the famous alun of Kawar actually was, it becomes clear that Kawar was probably known or at least heard of by the Garamantes and probably an entrepot for trans-Saharan trade by the 9th century. The references to Kanem and Zaghawa or Zaghawi captives certainly suggests the Ibadi trade network had penetrated Kawar and likely introduced Islam into the region. This early Ibadi influence and links to the Fezzan are the reasons Vikør sees early Kawar as falling more into a Maghrebi or North African sphere of influence (exemplified in the ancient Arabic place names and the gassars, which seem to owe more to Kanuri or Sudanic influences but use an Arabic term), later shifting to predominantly "Sudanic" with the assertion of Kanem's control or interests by the 12th century. With the rise of Kanem (even under mai Arku, hints of Kanem's influence in Kawar and ties to the Tomagra and Dirku suggest early links), Sudanic civilization exerted its influence to a greater extent in Kawar and even the Fezzan. Then, despite the decline of Kanem by the late 1300s, the Bornoan state under the Sayfawas reasserted their claims to Kawar. To what extent Arku, Dunama, Ali Gaji, Idris Alooma, or other mais of Kanem-Borno were ever able to exert strong authority over Kawar is unclear, but surviving Borno mahrams and the Diwan suggest familial, tax exemptions, marital, and military strategies.

However, unlike Lovejoy, Vikør does not seem to see Borno's interest in Kawar as being connected to the trade in salt in the Sudan. Instead, Borno was more interested in securing Kawar for trans-Saharan trade to Tripoli, via the Fezzan. Of course, it is hard to imagine Borno not trying to take advantage of Kawar's salt production, as the Koyam were said to have been involved in it and perhaps the Bornoan state added Kawar's salt exports to local natron production in Manga and near Lake Chad to supplement their trade with Hausaland and beyond. In other words, even if trans-Saharan trade and the Kawar salt caravans usually operated independently, it is difficult to imagine Borno not actively promoting Kawar's salt trade. This does not exclude the possibility of Tuareg caravans carrying salt from Kawar to Hausaland, which the Kano Chronicle may suggest was occurring by the mid-15th century. Indeed, the ensuing conflict between the Tuareg of Ayar and Borno in the late 17th century and 18th century, even if it was often small-scale raids in Kawar, does suggest Borno's interest in Kawar were important for security of trans-Saharan trade but perhaps the profitable salt trade, too. Indeed, Tuareg incursions on the borders of northern Borno plus Tuareg settlements of enslaved farmers in Damergu must have been seen as as combined threat to Kawar and Borno's direct borders. The Koyam must have been threatened too, by the rising importance of Tuareg, specifically Kel Owey salt caravans to Fachi and Kawar. 

Overall, this is mandatory reading for anyone interested in Kawar, Kanem-Borno, or the Central Sudan. While there are some arguments of the author we disagree with or find implausible or lacking adequate backing, Oasis of Salt is so far the best read on Kawar's history. Lovejoy's work is on the larger Central Sudan and should be read in conjunction, and Le Coeur's work, based on field experience and exposure to the Teda of Kawar and Tibetsi, should likewise be added to one's list. Taken together, the three provide a great overview and list of sources on Kawar's historic importance and role as a bridge between Kanem-Borno and the Mediterranean. We disagree with the author about the Kanuri of Kawar being the remnants of an original proto-Kanuri population that once lived further north, but he's likely right about the population always being, mostly, Sudanic. We would like a bit more details on the clan systems of the Teda and Kanuri before accepting his theory, though it does seem that early Kawar's population was closely related to the Kanembu and Kanuri. In addition, he's almost certainly correct about the Zaghawa/Banu Duku to Sayfawa "dynastic" change, too. It is far more likely that the Sayfawa dynasty and "Zaghawa" represented two local lineages rather than Hume being a Berber outsider. But based on our limited sources, Vikør does not agree with Lange that there definitely was a shift in dynasties from pre-Islamic Kanem to the Sayfawa. In light of his generally careful scholarship and useful references and translations, this is an enlightening history of a Saharan region whose entire existence is predicated on trade. 

The Rise and Fall of the Istambulawa

Djibo Hamani's exhaustive Au carrefour du Soudan et de la Berbérie: le sultanat touareg de l'Ayar is a careful analysis of the "Istambulawa" dynasty of kings in Agadez for about 5 centuries, from c.1405 to 1905. Hamani's history of the sultanate begins with a geographical overview, some theories on Berber migrations to the Sahel and Sudanic region and some of the early polities and trading centers in and near Ayar, such as early ties to Tadamakka, Tigidda and its copper, the Azna and Gobirawa in the region, Marandet and the "white Berber" sultans of the area mentioned by al-Umari in the 14th century. Hamani's use of external medieval Arabic sources, local traditions, al-Suyuti and al-Maghili, the Timbuktu Chronicles, Palmer's translations or collection of sources and the famous manuscripts of the Chroniques of Agadez (mostly the same material translated by Urvoy and utilized by H.T. Norris) with some possible dates for them allow for some suggestive and probable theories on the early spread of the Tuareg into and near Ayar from the west and the north. The early ties to the Berber trading center and kingdom of Tadmakka to the west, suggested by the sources like Ibn Hawqal, point to the importance of trade and links to ancient Gao (Kawkaw) as well as Maranda and Marawa. 

Then the rest of the book shifts to the specifics of the "Istambulawa" dynasty's obscure origins (needless to say, they are not descendants of a Turkish prince of Constantinople, but more likely can trace their origins to an imam or religious figure from the west who was appointed or chosen by the major Tuareg confederations in Ayar) and the centuries-long struggle of the sultans to assert their authority beyond the control of the Tuareg elector tribes or their attempts to prevent a strong, centralized state from emerging. Intriguingly, some of the traditions collected by Hamani attribute part of the desire for a sultan or arbiter of the clans was due to Borno raids, something a little hard to imagine considering the difficulties the Sayfawa faced in Kanem and Borno during the late 1300s and early 1400s. But if these traditions can be relied on in a general sense, external factors like Borno and Songhay could have put pressure on Tuareg for some degree of political centralization, especially due to preexisting trade that an be traced back to the ancient Ghana to Egypt trade that traversed the region since the 9th century.

Undoubtedly, the desire for a regional sultan to arbitrate inter-tribal Tuareg conflicts and help unite the clans against external foes was complemented by the growing economic importance of Hausaland in trans-Saharan and West African trade. As Hamani emphatically insists throughout the text, Agadez's rise was linked to its geographical role as the northern "port" of Hausaland with North Africa and the Mediterranean. Hausa exports of textiles, grains, slaves, and other goods helped supply the Tuareg of Ayar (and later Adar) while also making Agadez an important trading center and the basis of the wealth for the Istambulawa dynasty who derived some of their revenue from the trans-Saharan trade. Indeed, the Hausa contributions to the formation and longevity of the Istambulawa dynasty can also be found in the terms used for the royal administration, the spoken language in Agadez, and the Azna and Gobirawa indigenous populations in and near Ayar. Indeed, influences from the Songhay and Borno can also be found in the region, but the economic significance of Ayar was directly linked to the Hausa states. Islam also played a role, as Islamic rulers of Ayar, Katsina, Kano, Borno, and Songhay in the late 1400s could use religion as a bridge between trading communities and, despite the weak Islamization of some of the Tuareg in the massif, introduce some changes or new sources of political legitimacy. 

According to Hamani, the early sultans of Agadez were likely weak and faced constant threats of deposition and coups. Over the course of the late 1400s, the dynasty established their capital in Agadez and, by the 1600s, succeeded in practicing patrilineal succession to the throne and greater political stability. Indeed, by the reigns of Muhammad al-Mubarek and his son, Muhammad Agabba, the sultans of Ayar conquered Adar, threatened Borno, attacked Zanfara, and appear to have had, for the most part, exerted their authority over warring Tuareg clans of Ayar. Unfortunately, just as the state had entered an expansionist phase and seemed to be moving in the direction of greater centralization, Muhammad Agabba was dethroned in 1720 and fled to Adar. The Adar sultans continued to recognize the authority of the main Istambulawa king to the north, but the rulers of Ayar lost more power and influence over the Tuareg factions during the 18th and 19th centuries. 

Kings were deposed or endeavored to pit clans against each other but often deposed or overthrown. The declining state of affairs manifested in the decline of Agadez as a center for trade and the movement of several members of the dynasty to Hausaland. This sorry state of affairs continued in the 19th century as effective authority, to the extent it existed, was in the hands of Tuareg chiefs or charismatic warriors who then faced the threat of Awlad Sulayman raids, Tubu bandits, the shifting political alignments of the post-jihad Central Sudan, and, finally, French colonial conquest. According to Hamani, the authority of the sultanate was severely weakened by Tuareg clans prohibiting it their own military force. Moreover, since their authority was not established based on conquest, the Kel Ayar never fully submitted to the institution and the geographic and climactic conditions in the massif likely contributed to the great local autonomy of the various groups. Perhaps, if the sultanate had been able to develop Adar as a source of revenue (based on its peasant cultivator population) and raise troops, the sultanate under Muhammad Agabba and his children could have maintained a centralized population and resisted the elector tribes who reasserted their control of succession. Alas, such a development was blocked by the Kel Ayar and the Istambulawa often became irrelevant players in Ayar and the Central Sudan.

While there is much to learn in his lengthy history of Ayar and the Sultanate, Hamani's interpretations and arguments do raise some questions. For instance, his view on the Bilma salt caravan and conflicts with Borno in Kawar seem to view it as just a minor affair with local Tubu. One is also not sure of the antiquity of the Bilma salt caravan or the Kel Away's role in it. Indeed, we thought Lovejoy's interpretation of the conflicts between Borno and Ayar over the salt trade in the mid-1700s was perhaps closer to reality. Moreover, it became rather difficult to keep track of the various alliances and shifting conflicts of the Kel Ayar. Perhaps the last 2 sections of the book could have been shortened or a timeline for the various confederations could have been of use to aid the reader. As for the "racial" question of the Tuareg and the "Sudanese" or Hausa populations of Ayar and Adar, Hamani criticizes Heinrich Barth for his racial if not racist reading of the history of Ayar, but Hamani also finds evidence of this in some of the sources, like the Y Tarichi and some of the animosity directed against the Kel Away (more sedentary and perhaps "mixed" than other Kel Ayar) from other Tuareg. Perhaps more recent research has delved deeper into the question of "race" in the sultanate and the ways in which Tuareg society and that of Agadez diverged. 

Le Coeur and Kawar

Marguerite Le Coeur's unfortunate death deprived the world of a second volume on Kawar. The second volume would have continued the history of this important central Saharan region into the colonial period and 20th century. Fortunately, the first volume, a short history of the area leading up to French colonialism makes a fine attempt at tracing the historical development of the Kawar oasis beginning with the Garamantes and Antiquity. The main problem, a similar one we noticed with Maikorema Zakari's book, is the paucity or severe limitations of the sources. Le Coeur and her husband had extensive experience in ethnographic research among the Tubu of Kawar, but for this volume on the precolonial era, Le Coeur had to draw from mainly external Arabic sources, references to Kawar in Kanem-Borno sources, and European geographers and travelers for more recent periods. 

Surprisingly, Le Coeur did not cite some sources that could have aided in the attempted reconstruction of 19th century Kawar's ethnic dimensions (Tubu and Kanuri populations), such as Nicholas Said's autobiography. But based on Lucas, Lyon, Hornemann, Barth, Rohlfs, Nachtigal, Monteil, and a few other European writers, Le Coeur's attempts to fill in some of the gaps of the medieval sources offers some interesting ideas about social, religious, economic, and ethnic relations for the people of Kawar. Fortunately, al-Idrisi, Ibn Said, al-Yaqubi, the chronicles of Ahmad b Furtu, and the Diwan of Kanem-Borno offers some clues about the close relations between Kawar and Kanem, and perhaps the importance of clans of Tubu or Teda origin who, at various moments in the past of the Sayfawa dynasty, intermarried with the kings, probably promoting trans-Saharan trade through Kawar (which linked Lake Chad to the Fezzan and Tripoli). 

By contextualizing Kawar in the larger trans-Saharan trade networks and political or economic shifts in the Central Sudan, one can see Kawar's declining importance in the period of Bornoan decline (late 1700s and for much of the 19th century). However, Bilma's salt caravan remained significant and was directly connected to Aïr and Hausaland. So even as direct trans-Saharan trade between Tripoli and Borno declined, Bilma and other parts of Kawar remained of some importance for the salt and slave trade, despite suffering from Tuareg or Awlad Sulayman attacks or raids. But commerce was essential for Kawar, to supplement the meager diet of its inhabitants and for the local notables or traders (who had been engaging in long-distance trade since the medieval era if not earlier) and the "kings" of Kawar: Tubu rulers of the Tomagra or Tomaghera origin who charged a tax on caravans. 

Since our medieval Arabic sources don't provide enough detailed information, Le Coeur's endeavor to use the few clues from their work and the scholarship on the Tubu and Kanem-Borno provides some inconclusive or interesting speculation. The rise and fall of particular Kawar towns or villages remains unknown due to the possible name changes since the medieval era and even the questionable 'conquest' of Uqba b. Nafi in the 7th century. Who were the original inhabitants of the oasis is also unknown, but it seems likely that Kawar was always multiethnic and included, as noted by al-Yaqubi, Berbers who participated in the slave trade between Kanem and Zawila. The "Zaghawa" or Teda-Daza appear to have been in the region since the 9th century if not before, probaby migrating into and out of Kawar via the Tibetsi, Borku, Kanem, and Borno. 

Then, later migrations and settlers from Borno and the incorporation of slaves probably encouraged the Kanurization of parts of the Kawar, at least in the southern end. Perhaps the "Kanuri" presence was always in Kawar when Kanem-Borno effectively occupied or 'ruled' the oasis. Local architectural traditions might hint at this, as Kawar towns with clear street layouts and homes that were not huts appear to owe more to the Kanuri. As for why Le Coeur assumes the Tomagheras and Kayes were "Berbers" is unclear, but Kawar must have been influenced by Berber and other Ibadi Muslim traders in the 9th and 10th centuries, and perhaps the origins of the Tura and Kawarian traders described by al-Idrisi may have some link to these early Muslim traders. Indeed, we were surprised Le Coeur did not attempt to use the Borno mahrams more often, as they would perhaps hint at the importance of Tura traders of Kawar origins in supplying Borno with horses and perhaps the close links that connected the Sayfawa dynasty with Kawar.

Overall, Le Coeur's study is a good introduction and overview to a complex region of the Sahara with an ancient history that likely connects the Garamantes, Tubu and Lake Chad. We still have to read Knut S. Vikør's much longer, detailed history of Kawar's salt production but Les oasis du Kawar is a great place to start. Also included are some interesting photographs by the author of various ruins and sites, such as Bilma and Seguidine and some useful quotations and references from Monteil, Nachtigal, and other 19th century European accounts. 

A History of North Africa

Charles-Andre Julien's History of North Africa: From the Arab Conquest to 1830 is one of those good introductory overviews for the history of the Maghrib. Unfortunately leaving out Libya, which is our primary area of interest for North Africa, Julien covers the rest of the region from the Arab conquests to the 19th century. Beginning with the Byzantine period and the lengthy Arab conquests and spread of Islam, the book then shifts to the major Islamic dynasties and states which dominated parts of North Africa, like the Aghlabids, Imams of Tahert, Fatimids, Hafsids, Alawi dynasty, Almohads, Almoravids, and Regencies of Algiers and Tunis. 

We can't lie, sometimes one gets lost in the various names and dynasties over 1000 years. But Julien mostly retains the reader's interest and occasionally delves into other topics, like the spread of Islam, Sufism, the Barbary corsairs, the political economy of Tunis and Algiers, and how the Sharifian dynasties held Morocco together. Since the text was originally published several decades ago, we're sure that archaeologists and historians have shed more light on the Arab conquest and perhaps today's scholars would avoid phrases like "Berber inertia" to characterize what Julien describes as societies trapped in a civilization that hadn't changed much since the 7th or 8th centuries. 

Moreover, it would be interesting to read a history of North Africa that attempts to integrate a Saharan and Mediterranean perspective on the region. Julien, of course, mentioned the Moroccan invasion of Songhay and Hafsid relations with Kanem, but he seems to have bought into the idea that the Islamic civilization of the Sahel was an implanted Maghribi one while also minimizing the importance of the trans-Saharan trade. We have a lot more books to complete on North Africa before we can explore this, but we know Braudel will be on our reading list to help us understand the Mediterranean and, perhaps, how the Saharan "sea" was connected to it.

Black Nomads of the Sahara

Although only about a third of Jean Chapelle's ethnographic study of the Tubu peoples, Nomades noirs du Sahara: les Toubous, was particularly useful for our purposes, we highly recommend it as a synthesis of various colonial-era sources on the Teda-Daza peoples of the Sahara and Sahel regions. Despite Chapelle's personal experience on the ground in Chad, many chapters draw on earlier studies by colonial officers who collected local traditions which formed the basis for this books conclusions and historical outlook. It is undoubtedly a dated work and reflects, perhaps, some of the colonial obsession with the "mixed" racial origins of the Tubu. Nevertheless, it was a refreshing read for its acknowledgement of the Tubu origins of the Sayfawa dynasty and the role of constant migrations and shifting lifestyles (from nomads to sedentary agriculturalists) across the history of the region. We only wish more was said about clans of Tubu origins in Kanem and Borno and the ways in which Kanembu and Kanuri communities have continued or inherited Tubu practices. Nonetheless, if the ethnographic present can be used to fairly deduce how the Saharan ancestors of the rulers of Kanem lived several centuries ago, this book might give one an idea of how early Kanem could have looked with a "Zaghawa" ruling dynasty and sedentary farmers in the Kanem region paying tribute and engaging in reciprocal exchange. Like the Tubu chiefs and Derdes of more recent times, perhaps the early mais were associated with religious rituals on behalf of the clan, including rites attached to rain, harvests, and sadagas.