The Prince of Kashna (Katsina)

Jamaica (Britannica)

One of the most interesting narratives, presented by its publisher as a "true story" of a West African Muslim prince enslaved in Jamaica, is The Prince of Kashna: A West Indian Story. While there is ambiguity about the factual basis for the story, Camille Lefebvre has suggested viewing it through the lens of a topos of West African Muslims and royalty enslaved in the Americas. In that regard, it is also interesting to note how some stories of real cases of West African Muslims literate in Arabic probably influenced the author, Jane McManus Storm Cazneau. We suspect she was influenced by stories of West African royalty enslaved in the West Indies and the US, and perhaps by fictional accounts such as Aphra Behn's famous Oroonoko: or, the Royal Slave.

However, we endeavored to determine to what extent, if any, the narrative could be based on a true story of a Muslim slave from Katsina who arrived in Jamaica in 1806. According to the early chapters of the text, Sidi Mahmadee, the titular prince, was born to Abdalah, the ruler of Katsina, and a woman taken as a captive from an unspecified northern location. Sidi Mahmadee, who lost his father and mother at a young age and left Katsina while still a youth, believed she may have been of Arab extraction. While possible, the straight-haired Mahmadee was too young when he left and may have misidentified his mother, who was possibly Fulani or from a Tuareg background. His father, the Katsina king, was later described as a descendant of the Prophet, Muhammad, and ruled a Katsina that included "pagans" as well as Muslims in his court. The only ruler of Katsina during the late 1790s and early 1800s who may correspond with this figure was Gozo, a Katsina sarki killed in c.1801 (assassinated, according to Yusuf Bala Usman). From the narrative, we learn that Sidi Mahmud was rather young when his parents were killed (in a raid on Katsina). He was taken in by an Islamic holyman and teacher, Hadji Ali, who raised the boy after his parents died. Meanwhile, the next king of Katsina, an uncle of Mahmadee named Taleb Ben Abu, reigned in Katsina but maintained his court in a separate place. If Gozo was succeeded by Bawa Dan Gima, a name which bears no resemblance to that given in this narrative, this is further evidence for the fabrication of the account. Indeed, Usman has argued that Bawa Dan Gima came from a distinct sub-lineage of the ruling house of Katsina, and was therefore unlikely to be a sibling of Gozo.

While it is possible that Mahmadee provided Arabic names or other regnal names for these figures, it seems unlikely that he was indeed from Katsina. He did correctly identify the presence of "fetishists" and Muslims in the pre-jihad Katsina court and noted the presence of Muslim scholars in the city, including the man who later adopted him, the lack of concordance with the established kings of Katsina during this period is telling. Intriguingly, however, Sidi Mahmadee's account includes a story of a white man with a red beard who visited Katsina and gave medicine to his adoptive father. This white man is said to have spoken the language of Mahmadee's mother when he came to Katsina, and was feared as a 'sorcerer' by locals. In fact, by using the white man's medicine, Mahmadee's adoptive father became suspect in the eyes of the community, prompting him to move back to his homeland somewhere to the west (we suspect he was a Fulani from a western territory). This tale of a strange white man's appearance in Katsina brings to mind the traveler Friederich Hornemann, who may have reached Katsina sometime in the early 1800s. However, since we know so little about Hornemann's time in Katsina, and it is possible the author of The Prince of Kashna had read his journal or descriptions of him, we cannot use this story to corroborate the existence of Mahmadee. 

Besides the aforementioned vague descriptions of Katsina, the rest of the narrative is rather light on Mahmadee's African background. To be sure, if someone was kidnapped and sold into slavery while still an adolescent, they may not have the most profound or descriptive memories of their homeland when writing about it decades later. Nonetheless, we learn from his narrative that his adoptive father taught him to read the Koran, which appears to have been the limit of his Islamic education. When they left Katsina, which was done clandestinely since Mahmadee's uncle wanted him to stay, they appear to have traveled west. Somewhere in or around the fictitious Kong mountains, Mahmadee was kidnapped and sold into slavery. After being exchanged multiple times, he reached the coast, where he and other Hausa captives were sold to Europeans. This is another vague point in the narrative, since Mahmadee mentioned that there were many Mandingo captives on the slave ship. This would suggest that he had been sold on the coast of the Senegambian region, yet he mentioned several other Hausa captives alongside himself. Other inconsistencies abound in the text, but it is highly likely that Mahmadee's account of his voyage on the slave ship, where he was the recipient of special treatment and even helped the slave traders defeat French pirates, is a work of fiction. 

Once in Jamaica, Mahmadee, after an unfortunate experience running away (only to be captured and returned by Maroons), experienced a remarkable series of fortunate luck. His master, Mr. Davis, and his family, are presented as rather benevolent and supportive of his interest in education. The novelist, or author of the narrative, wants to present Mahmadee as a grateful slave who, deprived of his original noble status, learns to appreciate superior Western education. Nonetheless, the fact that he was a Muslim and a prince in Katsina serves as an elevating factor, one that brings him closer to Western civilization despite ongoing Orientalist and racist narratives. The fact that the character often expresses dissatisfaction with African phenotypes and wishes to be white seems to reflect a white author's biases, although it is certainly possible that an African slave in 19th century Jamaica thought similarly. His willingness to obediently serve his white masters leads to him playing a key role in preventing a slave conspiracy from erupting into outright rebellion in Westmoreland. By the novel's conclusion, Mahmadee is an educated man studying medicine, French, and European literature, successful and civilized to the point of asking to wed a mixed-race ward of a "quadroon" from Saint Domingue. There are hints that he did eventually travel back to Africa, although certainly not as a Christian missionary eager to spread civilization and end slave trading in Katsina. 

After reading the text in toto, we are convinced that it is almost certainly a work of fiction. While the author may have been inspired by tales of West African Muslims in Jamaica, such as Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, who was of partial Hausa heritage (linked to Katsina through his mother's family), it appears that Jane Cazneau wrote a fictional account that, while still racist, stressed the ability of some Africans to become assimilated to Western civilization and uplifted. Nonetheless, the elevation of the black African must be achieved through white tutelage, and slavery in early 19th century Jamaica is depicted as largely benign. None of the white slaveholders in the novel appear to abuse their slaves, and the ones most cruel to Mahmadee are enslaved overseers, Maroon slave-catchers or, in one case, a mixed-race engineer. Anyone looking for a work of fiction that honestly portrays the realities of chattel slavery in 19th century Jamaica will be disappointed. Yet, despite the occasionally racist narrative and dishonest depiction of slavery, this tale of an exotic West African Muslim does emphasize the perfectibility of the African, mediated via European tutelage. Interestingly, Mahmadee refuses to relinquish his Islamic identity, which may symbolize the author's recognition of Islam as a "legitimate" religion that elevated part of Black Africa before the inevitable European colonialism. To ascertain whether the character of Mahmadee was entirely invented, we would like to check 19th century Jamaican records, but our preliminary search has not led to an identification of any character from the narrative with a real person. 

Ali Eisami of Borno

For our long-term project on the history of Kanem-Borno, we assigned ourselves Koelle's  African Native Literature, or Proverbs, Tales, Fables, & Historical Fragments in the Kanuri or Bornu language. Written in Sierra Leone with the aid of Borno native Ali Eisami, the work consists of several fables, stories, historical narratives, and a glossary of Kanuri words. Eisami, the son of an Islamic scholar, was from a town or village near the old capital, Birni Gazargamo. He received at least a Quranic schooling, and experienced the upheaval of the fall of Gazargamo to the Fulani jihadist forces in 1808. By 1810s, he was captured by a group of Fulani, sold into slavery, and was relatively well-treated by a Yoruba master before Spaniards purchased him for the horrific trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Fortunately for him, a British ship used to suppress the slave trade intercepted the Spanish vessel and shipped the recaptives to Sierra Leone,. 

Although Eisami had arrived in Sierra Leone in 1818 and was thus away from Borno for over 30 years by the time Koelle's book was published in 1854, Eisami's dictated stories are an invaluable source for anyone interested in oral traditions and the history of the region and what we are calling the "Late Sayfawa Period." And while the presence of other Kanuris in Sierra Leone after 1818 provided updated information on events in Borno after Eisami's capture, it is clear that the major value of his experience is the plethora of oral traditions or folktales and his perspective on the early impact of the Fulani jihadist attacks which ushered in several political, economic, and social changes across the region before he became "lost" in captivity. 

Thus, the various short stories, fables, and historical fragments of the text shed light on a Borno that was lost with the fading Sayfawa dynasty and the declining political and economic fortunes of Borno across the turbulent 19th century. In a sense, Ali Eisami is an important final witness to to Borno as a civilization prior to the rise of al-Kanemi. His short stories and fables, which often reflect misogynistic views, also surprise. Some of the proverbs explicitly recognize slaves as untrustworthy. One tale, of a Muslim scholar and his heathen friend, exemplifies the ways in which oral traditions might reflect general social attitudes about religion and social obligation, challenging Islamic holymen on their character and not their adherence to tenets of the faith. His first tale, on the friendship between a rich man and a poor man, seems to reflect the importance of patron-client relations between superiors and inferiors, which could lead to long-lasting and surprising obligations. 

Eisami's tales and historical narratives likewise shed light on family and marriage relations, diet, the relationship between Islamic scholars and elites, and crises that struck Borno on the eve of the 1808 jihadist attack. For instance, we learn of Mai Ahmad's struggles with the vassal state or town of "Deia" which illustrates what might have been the incompetence of some kaygamas in the late 1700s and early 1800s. Or, to take another case, a famine and pestilence which struck Borno before 1808 and must have surely contributed to the weakness of Ahmad to defeat the invasion. Mai Ahmad, perhaps too old himself to have led the Twelve Regiments in person, abdicated and gave the crown to his son, Dunoma. However, according to Eisami, Dunoma was only able to retake Gazargamo thanks to the prayers, ability and "charm-water" of Sheikh al-Kanemi, the Kanembu mallam who would eventually seize effective political power in Borno. Much of this was witnessed by Eisami, or at least he was close enough to have heard the details before he left Borno. Unfortunately, his sources of information on events after his capture are sometimes conflicting, and in some cases, incorrect (the final end of the Sayfawa, for instance).

We shall revisit Eisami later on in a long-term project at the blog. We hope to explore in detail the oral traditions, proverbs, and stories he shared with Koelle. A related project is a comparative approach to Eisami, Nicholas Said, and James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw as authors of slave narratives written by men from Borno. To what extent were all three authors modified or misunderstood by their interlocutors or, in the case of Said, publisher? How did they come to represent Borno and Islam? To what extent were racialization and Western racial concepts shaping their narratives? These and other questions will be addressed in our future project. 

James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw and Borno

We here at the blog finally read the brief autobiography of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw. Said to be from Borno, we thought it mandatory to examine his autobiography as another potential source on the history of Kanem-Borno. Unfortunately, upon closer examination, the fascinating character which emerges in this autobiography could not have been from Borno. Too many inconsistencies and errors suggest that James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw was probably from another part of West Africa, perhaps a region closer to the Gold Coast than his narrative suggests.

While Borno certainly did have trading links to the Gold Coast in the 18th century, which may have involved ivory, it is remarkable that Gronniosaw's autobiography creates a portrait of a Borno which couldn't have been in the 18th century. Claiming to be the grandson of the king of Borno, one would expect Gronniosaw to have been a Muslim, or at least familiar with Islam. Unless his mother married a non-Muslim, he would have definitely been raised in the faith and possibly received at least a basic Koranic education. Instead, Gronniosaw fails to mention Islam, but mentions the worship of the Moon, Sun, and stars. Further, Gronniosaw was astonished when he first saw a man (the Dutchman who purchased him on the Slave Coast) read a book. If he was indeed from Borno's capital, and of royal blood, one would expect him to have familiarity with literacy and books. 

Furthermore, when describing their congregations of worship, he only mentions worshipping under trees in the city. Supposedly their day of Sabbath was on Saturday, not the expected Friday of Muslims. How could he not have been familiar with the mosques of Birni Gazargamo or the rituals of Islamic worship? Was his Islamic background erased by the Christian writer who recorded his narrative? Or, as we think more likely, was he from another part of West Africa? That might elucidate the autobiography's allusion to palm wine consumption in Gronniosaw's homeland. It would also explain the use of bark to produce cloth. After all, in our experience with the sources on textiles in Borno, most was produced with cotton.

Despite these flaws and questions of its accuracy for the origin of Gronniosaw, one should still read it. As an autobiography, filtered through the Christian propaganda and symbolism of his interlocutor, it provides some insights into the experiences of West Africans in the "Atlantic World" in the 18th century. Gronniosaw visited Martinique, Barbados, and Havana and lived in New York, Holland, London, and other parts of Britain. He experienced the life of a privateer in the Caribbean, as well as a difficult life of poverty in Britain. Indeed, his white wife, Betty, a weaver, experienced hardship due to labor unrest in her field. Thus, one can see elements of 3 forces that defined the increasingly closer "Atlantic World" of Africa, Europe and the Americas through the lens of race, class, and colonialism in the life of Gronniosaw. 

The Autobiography of Nicholas Said and Ambivalent Modernity

Said, via Wikipedia

Nicholas Said's relatively short autobiography is one of the most interesting textual sources produced by a native of Borno. The author of this slave narrative was kidnapped by Tuaregs and sold into slavery in North Africa. From Tripoli, Said accompanied a Turkish master who ran a tobacco shop, on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Along the way, Said traveled to Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, today's Saudi Arabia, Somalia, and Muscat. One almost wishes he told us more about the Ethiopian traders he met in Khartoum, or about the African pilgrims en route to Mecca in Sudan and Ethiopia. Alas, that was not his focus, but it would have been interesting if he met others from Borno in Sudan and Ethiopia. After his master's shop is burned down (with half of Tripoli's Turkish bazaar), our protagonist is sent to Izmir, where he is sold to a politically connected Turk who then takes him to Constantinople. After brushing shoulders with the cosmopolitan elites of Constantinople, he is acquired by a Russian diplomat and aristocrat who takes him to the Russian Empire. 

Via travels with a Russian employer, he traverses Europe, experiencing all the aesthetic, technological, and cultural advances of mid-19th century West. Eventually, when in London and planning a return to Borno, a Dutch client offers him employment for an extended trip to North America and the Caribbean. Visiting US cities, the Bahamas, Haiti, and Jamaica, Said and his employer return to the US and Canada, where Said is abandoned after loaning his boss funds. Stranded in Canada, he is encouraged to go to Buffalo, New York, where there are more "colored" people. Thus began Said's experiences in the US on a permanent basis. Perhaps due to the delicate post-Civil War conditions in the US South, Said does not disclose his service in the Union Army. One is also struck by the number of elite or royal people Said claims to have met or served, including receiving a gift from the Czar Nicholas I. One almost senses in this a Kanuri cultural practice of dependents seeking wealthy or powerful men as patrons, and perhaps Said's namedropping was a reflection of that. Or perhaps it served as a counter to US racism, as a "black" man, though in a servile position, was valued and respected by cosmopolitan European elites and experienced little to no racial prejudice. One can sense some tensions, perhaps tied to his race, with European domestics in Russia, and we can be sure there was a lot more that happened to Said in Europe or Turkey than he's willing to admit. Alternatively, Said may have looked to the famous "Negro" of Peter the Great as a model for refashioning his life in the Russian Empire.

So, what does Nicholas Said's biography tell us about Borno and the experience of Borno's peoples in the modern world? First, Said himself represents Borno as a political project encompassing a variety of ethnic groups, including the Kanuri, Shuwa, Kanembu, and, in the case of Said, "Mandra" (Mandara) and Molgoy. Molgoy were a people whose ruling chief accepted a tributary relationship with Borno under Mai Barnoma. Said's mother, Dalla, was the daughter of a Mandra chief. Yet despite these non-Kanuri origins, Said seems to identify wholeheartedly with Borno and refers to the Borno or Kanuri language as his vernacular. Perhaps this a reflection of his father's military service under Shehu al-Kanemi, which meant Said grew up in Kukawa, the capital, and socialized with a son of Shehu Omar. Either way, this is an interesting example of how multiethnic the empire of Borno was, and to what extent people from "pagan" tributary or vassal states in the region could ascend the ranks of the military and social status. 

After all, Mohammad Ali ben Said was the son of Barca Gana, a famous general who defended Borno against the Fulani, Bagirmi, Wadai, and other enemies or raiders. Indeed, it was presumably through his father's prominence and connections with al-Kanemi and his successor that Said was sent for schooling to Malam Katory, a reputed scholar described as being well-versed in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. Presumably having such a respectable teacher in Arabic was expected for people of elite origins in Borno. Moreover, it was open to people who were not of Kanuri, Kanembu, or Shuwa origins, though Said clearly thought the Kanuri were the ruling class or caste and not above oppressing Shuwa, Kanembu, or other groups.

After establishing how internally diverse and dynamic Borno society was in the 19th century, it's important to consider Said as a native of Borno in the volatile 19th century world, experiencing steamships, railroads, European architecture and science. There is a long-running, underlying current of racial uplift in Said's autobiography, perhaps acquired from his experience in the US with African-Americans and whites. In his own manner, he attacks the argument of African inferiority, while implicitly casting Africans as primitive and the "race" as one in need of elevation through education and uplift. This is the basis for sensing some ambivalence in Said's experience of 'modernity' and tradition, one in which he can praise aspects of Borno and the Ottoman Turks while cursing African Islam as retrograde. Indeed, in Said's retelling of Borno's past and the history of African achievements in technology and handicrafts, he seems to think the palace ruins at Gambaru and Ngazargamu were the achievements of pre-Islamic Borno. Consequently, one can sense an ambivalence in Said's autobiography in terms of religion and race in a changing world. Thus, he can praise the example of the Haitian Revolution as an achievement for our race while wishing Haiti remained colony.

Experiencing the trans-Saharan slave trade first-hand, and 2 distinct but connected routes that carried him from Tripoli to Mecca and back), it is fascinating to see how someone who was reared Muslim and received an Islamic education for at least 2 years struggled with Islam. After baptism in Riga, at the pressure of his Russian aristocratic employer, Said appears to have gradually adopted more severe and dismissive attitudes to Islam. The religion of his homeland, indeed, is blamed for bringing destruction, fanaticism, and slave raiding. Since his audience for the autobiography consisted of Christian Americans in the 19h century, perhaps one can see Said embellishing or exaggerating his religious sentiments or identity. Yet he could have been sincere in those beliefs, and struggled to make sense of the "contest" between Christianity and Islam, the former better for Africa (and the "race"). In this light, it is interesting to compare Said with Edward Blyden. Unlike Blyden, who was not a product of an Islamic West African society, Said presented himself as a Christian who rejects Islam's influence in the continent. Blyden, on the other hand, saw Islam as preparing Africa for eventual Christianization, and in the meantime, promoting education and moderation for moral uplift. Like Said, Blyden did not truck with "fetishism" but both claimed to be for the race. Both also saw in the "mulatto" an implacable obstacle to countries like Haiti. How is it that two men with extensive traveling and education, both in favor of improving the "race," develop ambivalent attitudes toward Africa in the modern world while stressing the benefits of opposing religions? And what does this suggest for the role of Borno in the larger theme of Islam and modern Africa?