Speculating on L'Empire de Ghana: le Wagadou et les traditions de Yéréré

Although we must revisit this work and engage in a deeper reading of the different recorded versions of Soninke oral traditions on Wagadu, Germaine Dieterlen's L'Empire de Ghana: le Wagadou et les traditions de Yéréré raises a number of intriguing questions about the extent we can reconstruct this distant past. Beginning with a translation of Diarra Sylla's rendition of this past as a gessere, Dieterlen then provides additional context and attempts a wider analysis of the ancient empire of Ghana (Wagadu). To some extent, she drew on the ethnographic present as well as cultural practices and rites among the Bambara, Dogon, and other West African peoples. This makes her interpretation of the institutions, social structure, and culture of Wagadu necessarily speculative.

In spite of some of these pitfalls in researching a period in pre-colonial West African history that is only partly covered in external Arabic sources, Dieterlen confirmed some of our own past theories. For instance, a cult of sorts to the vulture and hyena was part of the Soninke ritual calendar. According to Dieterlen, on the second moon of the Soninke's calendar, the wage (noble clans) gathered with their gessere to offer sacrifices to the hyena, an animal tied to their oath to Kaya Maga. Remember, the hyena played a role in assisting Diabe in Soninke tradition. There was also a special regard for the fox, it being a taboo for wage to kill this particular animal. Even the dog was the subject of taboos for the wage. For instance, they were not allowed to marry people who ate or sacrificed dogs, presumably due to the dog that accompanied the legendary ancestor, Dinga. One cannot help but wonder if the dogs with collars of gold and fine jewelry in the palace of the Ghana kings was in memory of this? Unsurprisingly, al-Bakri was likely ignorant of this, but informants told him of the palace dogs with richly decorated collars.

Besides these aforementioned taboos, Dieterlen offered some additional information on Kumbi and the Wagadu kingdom. Presumably based on her informant, she reported that Kumbi, the capital, had fifty-one quarters. Koumbi Saleh was allegedly the quarter for the market associated with caravan trade. The imperial quarter was supposedly called Kalaata, presumably the al-Ghaba of al-Bakri. There was even a quarter or section associated with the gessere. A glimpse of the different social classes or ranks in Wagadu can be seen in the description of four types of royal drums. Essentially, the major groups were the nobles, clan chiefs, slaves, and the people (commoners?). A distinct drum was used to call each of these types of residents in the capital city. Although it is difficult to see where the number of fifty-one quarters or neighborhoods came from, the number is probably meant to be symbolic or merely to suggest a huge concentration of people living within a larger capital district. That is very likely to have been true, as al-Bakri's description of the capital as two cities, one for Muslims and another for the king, with continuous habitations between, fits this.

In terms of the administration of the state, Dieterlen provided additional clues. The Koussa, for instance, participated in collecting gold for the king. Other Koussa were Koussa Tounkara, who assisted in organizing official ceremonies for the rulers of Wagadu. Another role attached to spiritual powers like access to ancestors through trance and the fabrication of ritual objects began with Djourou Tandjigo, an artisan in the times of Diabe. In addition, there were fade and hida, the governors or chiefs of provinces within Wagadu. Dumbe and djuwara were said to have been generals or military leaders. The Cisse clan which allegedly produced the most kings. A number of wage or noble clans were tied to specific provinces or regions, such as a figure remembered as Diamera Sokona, son of a fade named Birama, at Nakhata (interestingly, this figure was also said to have been the first to offer a woman to the Bida snake). Supposedly, control of territories included administration of land, markets, livestock, hunting grounds, and water sources, meaning these administrators had a lot of power over the areas under their remit. As for the military chiefs, Dieterlen suggested that these were the nana, a word possibly distorted in Arabic sources as Ghana.

But what of the known history of Wagadu as a state? Or its dynastic genealogy? Here contradictions abound as different versions of oral traditions disagree on details. Dieterlen presented Wagadu as dominated by the Cisse, beginning with Diabe as the first king based at Koumbi. Inexplicably, there were thirty-three of these Cisse kings before a member of the Toure clan became the 34th king. The Toure, who were associated with the power to control water, seized the kingdom with Moudou Toure at the head. A Muslim, Moudou Toure enjoyed support from some of the local Kakolo clans and Diane and Koma clans. Elsewhere, it is claimed that Madyou Toure was the last to reign, though it is unclear what his relationship was to Moudou Toure. Prior to this, one of the 5 Cisse clans apparently dominated rulership, the Kharesi. But the switch to the Toure may have led to a change in capitals and greater Islamization as the first Muslim kings (in the late 11th century, according to Arabic sources). One may interpret this as the rise to prominence of an Islamic noble clan in Wagadu, evidence of which can be found in external Arabic sources on Wagadu in the 1100s and 1200s. Even Zafun allegedly entered the picture, where the older brother of Diabe left when Diabe succeeded Dinga. This Cisse brother married a woman of the Dyafone clan of Dyafounou, suggesting links between Zafun and Wagadu began early in Ghana's history.

However, a looming question remains. Can one reconcile Dieterlen's reconstruction of the kingdom's past with other sources? Her text includes a few other variants of the Soninke tale of Kumbi and the dispersal from Wagadu after the killing of Bida. Some of these other sources provide a different king list for Wagadu. One named the Wagadu kings as Khaya Makha Sise, Wakane Sakho, Damera Sokhna, Gumane Fade, Sero Khumma (all brothers of Diabe, the first king). Then leadership passed to the family of D'ariso, beginning a new line of kings: Kambine, Suleyman, Bannabubu, Wagadu Makha II, Gane, Musa, Biramu, and then a disastrous civil war. Needless to say, some of the people considered kings here were supposedly noble governors or warrior leaders in Sylla and Dieterlen's version of events. We also wonder about Biramu, a name which sounds close to Birama. But once the D'ariso lineage succeeded, one notes father to son inheritance (6 generations) and the appearance of Islamic names. If the civil war which followed the reign of Biramu, among his own sons no less, involved a warrior from D'ara in Tiraka, then this could have been the moment of an Islamic faction seizing the throne. Tiraka, after all, had been an important center for trade to Ghana, Tadmakka, and other groups, with a Wangara population also there attested by some external Arabic sources. This raises the legitimate question of how to interpret the dynastic and/or religious change in Wagadu's leadership in the 11th century. It is tempting to see traditions of a Toure clan Muslim becoming king with the support of some elements within the kingdom (and possible support from the Almoravids).

Ultimately, Dieterlen's book raises more questions than it can possibly answer. Yet the connections she makes to other West African cultures and the Soninke ethnographic present can give the reader new ways to think about the history of pre-Islamic Wagadu. The clear role of the "traditional" religion as the legitimizing ideology behind kingship and the worldview of the people, as well as the strong role played by lineage in creating and distributing hierarchies, rank, and identities is worth exploring.

On the Great Mosque of Djenne

 

We recently saw this short video from a 2005 BBC program on Djenne, Mali. The video shows parts of the Great Mosque of Djenne that are not often shown, such as the system of ventilation on the roof of the structure. It is truly remarkable as an example of mud architecture.

Speculating on a Medieval Jewish Population in Mali

Songhay at the time of Sonni Ali Ber, in Adam Konare Ba, Sonni Ali Ber.

Although the tradition of a Jewish population near Tindirma (in Mali) has long been known, this past has not been confirmed through archaeology or finds like gravestones. That said, it is remarkable that the tradition has been reported in the Tarikh al-Fattash, the marginalia in Timbuktu manuscripts, and oral tradition collected in the region during the 20^th century. Since some versions of the tradition insert fantastic or unrealistic details, such as the giant stature of the ancient Beni Israel or their 7 leaders commanding thousands of cavalry forces, we previously assumed this was purely legendary. When reconsidering the evidence, however, our opinion has changed to a tempered skepticism.

            First, let us explain our initial stance rejecting the historical validity of the Jewish population in Tindirma. The 1447 letter of Antonio Malfante, a man who traveled to Tuwat and wrote of the area’s Jewish population, also mentioned their prominence in trade. But the same author wrote of the “Philistines” of the Sahara, apparently Tuareg, who did not let Jews pass through their territory. According to Malfante, “They are sworn enemies of the Jews, who do not dare pass hither.”[1] Assuming Malfante correctly understood the nature of the Jewish community’s relationship with Saharan nomads, the Jewish population in Tamentit or other northern Saharan trading centers did not usually cross the Sahara. If they did, the “Philistines” presumably harassed them.

            Of course, it is very dangerous to rely too heavily (and uncritically) on a single source. It is certainly possible some Jews crossed the Sahara from Tuwat in the 1400s. Their presence in Songhay during the reign of Askia Muhammad is likewise implied by the government’s actions to ban them and despoil traders of their goods for doing business with Jews.[2] Leo Africanus also echoed this, describing the ruler of Songhay (or the “king” of Timbuktu) as “an inveterate enemy of the Jews.”[3] It is difficult to imagine the need for anti-Jewish laws or proclamations if there were absolutely no Jewish people in the domains of Songhay. While al-Maghili’s role in this is quite probable, one must wonder to what attitudes regarding Jews existed in the Western Sudan.

            An additional type of evidence attesting to the Jewish colony of Tindirma can be found in the margins of various manuscripts from Timbuktu. According to Susana Molins Lliteras, notes dated to 1504/5 describe the ancient Jewish presence near Tindirma. These notes report that the Jews were buried with their heads facing west. Furthermore, the presence of Hebrew inscriptions was noted. This type of evidence must be carefully evaluated, but it illustrates how the idea of a Jewish presence in Tindirma was around by the early 16^th century. Indeed, despite the Hebrew writing, the notes mention a donation in the area as well as an allusion to knives and swords.[4] Perhaps this is referring to some type of military regime or system in place to defend the area’s prosperous farmers?

            Besides the marginalia in Timbuktu manuscripts, the Tarikh al-Fattash echoes the notion of a Jewish past in Tindirma. Although its composite nature and 19^th century interpolation forces one to consider that the references to the Jewish presence are based on oral traditions, it brings new details into the narrative. For instance, the report on the Tindirma region in the chronicle alludes to the use of wells by the Jews as a water source for their farms. It is also here where the legend of 7 Jewish princes arose, who allegedly each commanded a group of 12,000 horsemen. They were also said to have partitioned the 333 wells built for agricultural purposes among themselves. The names given to these princes appear to be Arabic, such as Fadl ben Mizar.

In terms of the community’s disappearance, the chronicle only mentions that a single Jew was there when a Sorko man and his wife, Marma came to the region. When the kurmina-fari Amar arrived to establish Tindirma as his capital, this lone survivor was dead. This account seems particularly legendary, but the Jewish man named his town Bako.[5] Yet, if the date of 1497 for Umar Komadiakha’s appointment as kurmina-fari is accurate, this suggests that whatever Jewish communities lived in the region had disappeared or dispersed by the late 15^th century.[6]

            As one moves into the colonial era, a reconnaissance of Tindirma was conducted by Bonnel de Mézières. This Frenchman traveled to Tindirma in the company of a respected Timbuktu scholar. He claimed to have seen evidence of the extensive wells built in the region as well as the Jewish cemetery. He also found evidence of a tumulus at Coigur.[7] Since he personally witnessed what was described as the cemetery of the Beni Israel and traveled with an informant presenting oral traditions, there does seem to have been, in the distant past, a prosperous community here perceived as non-Muslims. At least, that’s what was commonly believed by this period.

            Later, in the postcolonial era, Mahmoud Abdou Zouber collected oral traditions published as Traditions historiques songhoy (Tindirma, Morikoyra, Arham). A number of local informants recounted the tradition of an ancient Jewish presence in the region, though sometimes contradicting each other. In some cases, it is also possible that the local traditions were influenced by the Tarikh al-Fattash or drew from similar sources. Yet one key difference is the reference to possible conflict with the Songhay under the Si dynasty. According to one informant, one “Israelite” was in the region when Umar (Amar Aboubakari) built the mosque in Tindirma. Said to have perished at a place called Founefoune 3 years after the arrival of the kurmina-fari, which has been dated to 1497, the single survivor of the community would have died in c. 1500. This informant also reported that the Jews were not defeated in battle or exterminated. Instead, he reported, “Ces Israélites n'ont pas été exterminés par la guerre ; ils sont morts tout simplement.”[8]

On the other hand, other informants hinted at a military conflict that ended the Jewish presence in the region. According to tradition, Sonni Ali had a grand court at Tindirma, suggesting the region was once important to 15^th century Songhay rulers before Askia Muhammad. Moreover, the town, Baka, between Tindirma and Lessoudji was said to have been the place where Jews established a community and subjected the local inhabitants. In the words of the informant, “Les Israélites s’y ont fixés, et ont exercé leur domination sur les autochtones.”[9] This town, Baka, sounds suspiciously close to the name of the Jewish town in the Tarikh al-Fattash. Where things differ is the tradition of the barakoy, Mansikoura, said to have battled the Jews. Indeed, an informant said “C’est le Barakoy qui a vaincu les Israélites et les a contraints à descendre jusqu'à Tindirma.”[10] Elsewhere, the area the Jews once resided in is referred to as the Barissileyla, a place near the river where Jewish tombs, human remains, and wells were found. As for the barakoy, his title appears to include the word mansa, a title used by the barakoy in the Songhay Empire.

Sketch of the Fati region by Bonnel de Mézières.

While the traditions imply that the barakoy had used military force to displace the Jewish population, it is not clear to what extent said venture may have contributed to the dissolution of the community. Tradition suggests this occurred in the 15^th century, too, likely during the reign of Sonni Ali (c. 1464-1492). After all, Sonni Ali is said to have conquered Bara, the region where Tindirma seemingly was a part of.[11] If the traditions are not entirely legendary, there is a chance that the Jewish community of the area was relocated by a barakoy at this time. Later on, by the late 15^th century, the community had died out or dispersed. But the references to the construction of wells and agricultural produce suggest that, for some time at least, the local elites from this allegedly Jewish population lived off the taxation and agricultural production of the region. To what extent they were linked to supplying provisions to Timbuktu or other towns is unclear, but one could imagine a scenario in which Jewish traders might have expanded their interests in the region by investing in agriculture. Their construction of well-built wells for sources of water may have also appealed to Sonni Ali, who once expressed an interest in canals and has been said to have sponsored the creation of wells in the Gourma region.[12] In fact, a tradition reported by Boubou Hama asserts that Jews supported Sonni Ali against the Islamic clerical class and Tuareg.[13] Consequently, it is not inconceivable that Jewish traders with links to Tuwat and a settlement near the Niger supported Sonni Ali during his conquests of Jenne, Timbuktu and other parts of the Middle Niger.

Traditions of the barakoy chasing Jews may contradict this possible alliance between Sonni Ali and the Jews. But it is possible that the Jewish presence near Tindirma, however small or large it may have been, expressed support for Sonni Ali. Their dispersal through the hydraulic program of the Songhay leader could have led to the dissolution of the community. Then, under Askia Muhammad, persecution or banning of Jews may have further weakened whatever was left of the Jewish presence in the region. Ultimately, whatever was left of the community near Tindirma ended by the late 1490s as Askia Muhammad became the ruler of Songhay. Despite that, oral tradition recorded a non-Muslim presence in the area that was very likely tied to Jewish traders who may have come from Tuwat. Since oral traditions, chronicles and, to a certain extent, archaeological traces of ancient wells survive, the notion of a Jewish community in the 15^th century Western Sudan is quite plausible. To what extent they encouraged proselytization or how they managed the area under their authority is unclear, but it was likely in decline by the late 15^th century during the reign of Sonni Ali.

---

[1] Antonio Malfante, “Letter from Tuwat”, in The Voyages of Cadamosto and Other Documents on Western Africa in the Second Half of the Fifteenth Century.

[2] John Hunwick, Jews of a Saharan Oasis, 64

[3] John Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire: Al-Sa‘dī's Ta’rīkh al-sūdān down to 1613 and other Contemporary Documents, 281.

[4] Susana Molins Lliteras, “The Making of a Historian in Timbuktu: The Signed Marginalia Attributed to Mahmud Ka’ti in the Fondo Ka’ti Collection”, in Scribal Practice and the Global Cultures of Colophons, 1400–1800, 147-148.

[5] Octave Houdas (trans.), Tarikh el-Fettach" ou Chronique du chercheur pour servir à l'histoire des villes, des armées, et des principaux personnages du Tekrour: documents arabes relatifs à l'histoire du Soudan, 119-123.

[6] John Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire, 104, 343.

[7] Bonnel de Mézières, “Reconnaissance à Tendirma et dans la région de Fati, Bulletin de la Section de Géographie, t. XXIX, 130-131.

[8] Mahmoud Abdou Zouber, Traditions historiques songhoy (Tindirma, Morikoyra, Arham), 14-18.

[9] Ibid., 74.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Hunwick, Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire, 92.

[12] Adam Konare Ba, Sonni Ali Ber, 102.

[13] Ibid., 102-103. 

Early Gao or Kawkaw (AI-Written)

What follows below is an attempt to use AI to write a short essay on a topic based on our notes. The notes in question were written based on several academic publications we read a few years ago. Sadly, the free version of ChatGPT was unable to reproduce proper citations before we used up the free access to the best version. Nonetheless, we thought it would be worthwhile to show what it is capable of doing with information we fed to it. After some time, we will ask it to revise this again using whatever additional sources it can access. A link to our notes that are the basis of this can be found here. Naturally, take everything below with a grain of salt as it is entirely written by AI...

The early history of the Songhay and the rise of Gao (known to medieval Arabic writers as Kawkaw) illustrate the development of one of West Africa’s earliest powerful political centers. Located along the Niger River at the point where Saharan caravan routes met fertile riverine settlements, Gao emerged as a dominant regional hub before and during the early second millennium CE. Arabic geographers, although writing from afar and often relying on merchant testimony, consistently presented Gao as a sovereign kingdom that exercised influence over multiple subject peoples. Archaeological evidence, particularly from Gao-Saney, reinforces this image by revealing craft specialization, foreign imports, and signs of urban stratification. Yet the limited availability of contemporary written sources means historians must critically combine archaeology, oral tradition, and later West African chronicles to reconstruct this period. Through this synthesis, a picture emerges of a culturally dynamic society grounded in indigenous traditions but strengthened by the adoption of Islam and long-distance trade.

Well before the rise of Gao as a trans-Saharan commercial center, the Niger Bend supported communities that relied on the river’s abundant resources. The Sorko, known as expert fishers and boatbuilders, and the Gow, skilled hunters of hippopotamus and other dangerous river animals, formed some of the earliest identifiable groups associated with Songhay. Their craft specialization facilitated trade along the river and created patterns of settlement that anchored early political formation. Matrilineal descent was a defining feature of these river societies. Authority passed not solely from father to son but through the mother’s lineage, which ensured that elite women played essential roles in validating leadership transitions. Religious life centered on spirits connected to water, the riverbed, and animal life. Kingship was sacred, and rulers derived legitimacy from their roles as intermediaries with supernatural forces. Such cultural foundations did not disappear with the arrival of Islam; instead, these Sudanic social structures shaped the ways Islam was received and practiced.

Songhay historical memory, preserved in later chronicles, places the earliest ruling seat at Kukiya, downriver from Gao. The Zuwa (or Za) dynasty, said to descend from a foreign ancestor or hero figure, represents the first political lineage acknowledged by tradition. Oral narratives speak of battles between these early kings and powerful river spirits, sometimes depicted as fish demons, symbolizing struggles over control of ritual authority and sacred space within the community. Archaeological discoveries in the Bentyia–Kukiya region, including early Muslim burials, suggest that the site was not isolated nor purely mythical. Instead, Kukiya appears to have been a substantial multiethnic settlement that was already interacting with Islamic traders by at least the 11th to 12th centuries. Over time, as trade networks intensified and Gao’s geographic advantages became more important, political power shifted northward, indicating a gradual process of state consolidation rather than abrupt replacement.

By the 8th–9th centuries CE, Gao emerged clearly in Arabic writings as a capital city and political force. The geographer al-Yaqubi noted that the king of Kawkaw ruled a number of subject peoples, including desert-dwelling Sanhaja nomads. This claim aligns with archaeological findings showing that Gao was integrated into long-distance economic systems. Gao’s prosperity stemmed strongly from trans-Saharan trade. Caravans from Tadmekka, Kawar, and the Fezzan arrived with salt — a critical commodity that held both economic and political value. In return, Songhay merchants and rulers exported copper, ivory, animal products, and enslaved captives. These exchanges linked Gao to the wider Islamic world stretching from North Africa to the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Excavations at Gao-Saney have revealed copper-working furnaces, imported pottery and glass beads, and architectural features suggesting elite compounds. Such evidence confirms that Gao was not merely a waystation but a thriving production and consumption center. The kingdom’s ability to control trade routes and levy taxes or tribute helped consolidate political authority and population growth.

Islam did not arrive in Gao through conquest but through commerce and diplomacy. By the 10th–11th centuries, rulers known by the title Qanda (or Kanda) had converted to Islam, according to al-Bakri. Their subjects, however, largely maintained traditional beliefs and cult practices. Gao thus existed at this time as a dual-religious polity, with two towns: one Islamic and one that upheld indigenous spirituality. This structure demonstrates a transitional phase when kings embraced Islam’s advantages for diplomacy and legitimacy while still depending on traditional bases of ritual power among their people. Notably, Islamization appears to have been elite-driven. Conversion supported alliances with North African Muslims and facilitated smooth trade relations. But kings continued to rely on matrilineal structures to ensure dynastic stability, which reflects the persistence of indigenous frameworks for rule.

A political transformation became visible in the late 11th and early 12th centuries. The names of rulers that appear in Arabic texts vanish, and new rulers known as the Zaghe/Za emerge prominently in the archaeological record. Royal tombstones found at Gao-Saney are inscribed with Arabic prayers and titles such as malik (king) and malika (queen). Some of these funerary stelae were carved from marble imported from Almeria in Islamic Spain, revealing direct commercial and cultural connections with the wider Muslim world. This new leadership reinforced Islam at the highest levels of authority while retaining Songhay’s matrilineal basis of succession. The prominent burial of queens indicates that elite women were not diminished by Islam but remained central to the legitimacy of rulers. These developments mark Gao’s first clearly documented period of Islamic monarchy, accompanied by a flourishing of intellectual and cultural engagement beyond the Sahara.

Gao’s influence extended beyond commerce. Medieval accounts record that its rulers engaged in conflicts with the Ghana Empire to the west and Kanem to the east. These wars were not merely territorial but economic, driven by competition for control of trade corridors, especially those linking goldfields, salt mines, and northern markets. Warfare and diplomacy were tools to secure and manage tribute from both riverine and desert communities. Gao’s growing military power suggests a centralized administrative apparatus capable of organizing cavalry and riverine forces. That capacity would later form the basis of Songhay’s imperial strength under Sunni Ali.

Islam in Gao did not override existing beliefs. Instead, the two systems merged into a culturally hybrid form of statecraft. Rulers valued Islamic law, Arabic literacy, and international alliances, while also maintaining sacred ceremonial roles rooted in Sudanic cosmology. Spirit possession, public ritual, and matrilineal inheritance endured. This dual legitimacy — Islamic and indigenous — made Gao’s political structure both flexible and resilient. Rather than abolishing entrenched social customs, Islam was used to reinforce monarchy and expand bureaucratic functions, especially in commerce, taxation, and diplomatic communication.

Reconstructing early Songhay history requires attention to the nature of the available sources. Arabic geographers provide some of the earliest written references to Gao, but their works contain gaps and uncertainties because they relied heavily on second-hand information. Archaeology offers concrete material evidence of urban development and Islamic influence but remains limited to sites that have been excavated, especially around Gao-Saney. Oral traditions preserve indigenous perspectives and cultural meanings but contain mythic elements and were shaped by later political contexts. The Tarikh al-Sudan and Tarikh al-Fattash, written centuries later, reflect Songhay’s imperial ideology rather than early history. Despite these limitations, the convergence of evidence strongly indicates that Gao was a powerful and Islamizing state by the 11th century, rooted in earlier indigenous cultural institutions. Continual comparison of sources allows historians to create a clearer, though still evolving, understanding of this crucial period.

By the beginning of the 12th century, Gao had emerged as a thriving urban center with solid economic, military, and religious foundations. Its rulers commanded long-distance trade networks, projected force against rival states, and served as guardians of both Islamic and indigenous authority. These achievements ensured that Gao remained influential even when incorporated into the Mali Empire in the 13th and 14th centuries. When the Sunni dynasty restored independence in the 15th century and expanded to create the Songhay Empire, they built upon centuries of state formation and a tradition of political innovation rooted in the early history of Gao. The foundations of one of West Africa’s greatest empires began not with sudden transformation, but through gradual evolution driven by commerce, culture, and hybrid spirituality.

L’empire du Wagadu: état de la question

Boubacar Séga Diallo's L’empire du Wagadu: état de la question was rather underwhelming. We were expecting a condensed version of his thesis that draws more heavily on Soninke oral traditions, linguistics, and archaeology to sketch a fuller picture of the historical state of Ghana (Wagadu) known from external Arabic sources. However, the reader mainly receives a summary on the history of Wagadu with occasional references to oral traditions, archaeological evidence from Kumbi or Mali, and some undefended assertions about topics like the antiquity of caste or the prevalence of slavery in ancient Soninke society. Perhaps, if Diallo's thesis is published, the reader can benefit from a West African scholars deep exploration of Soninke tradition in light of other types of evidence. Without that, we are sadly left with a very brief summary that also repeats the typical line of Almoravid victory over Ghana. It would also have been interesting if the author tried to speculate about the magico-religious powers of the rulers of Wagadu and how that shaped the political structure of the state.

Rouch's Contribution to the History of Songhay

Jean Rouch's Contribution à l'histoire des Songhay is rather outdated yet still useful for insights on Songhay history and culture. A reputable ethnographer who studied Songhay religion and magic extensively, Rouch's understanding of their history unsurprisingly emphasizes Islam as an alien element that laid the foundations for the collapse of the Askia. Despite this problematic frame for Songhay history, Rouch's work is one of the best earlier attempts to make sense of Songhay history from its shadowy early origins at Kukiya to the late colonial period. 

Unfortunately, Rouch repeated some of the mistakes of Delafosse and early colonial scholars. For instance, the Za dynasty were said to have been Christianized Lemta Berbers who left Tripolitania around 670. In addition, the early state of Ghana (Wagadu) is attributed to Judaeo-Syrian colonists. These mistakes inhibit a deeper understanding of early Songhay, one which clearly indicates an important role for the Sorko, Gow, and farming populations living near and along the Niger as the foundation of the first Songhay polity. This later inhibits Rouch's analysis of the Za, Si, and Askia dynasties since Islam, promoted by Askia Muhammad, is blamed for the fall of Songhay. Sonni Ali, on the other hand, was the champion of a "black" state that brought Songhay to its zenith, something commemorated in Songhay oral traditions, religion, and Rouch's problematic view of Islam's relations with Songhay religion. 

Of course, later scholars have benefitted from new approaches to the Timbuktu chronicles, epigraphic evidence from Bentia & Gao, as well as archaeological excavations at Gao and other sites in Mali to throw into question a number of theories held as gospel in Rouch's day. The picture that emerges now is one far more dynamic and one that calls into question some of the older generation's stereotypes of Kukiya as the fount of "black" Songhay paganism and even the historicity of Ali Kulun. Nonetheless, Rouch's insights are occasionally insightful here, particularly his proposed translations for Za dynasty rulers recorded in the Timbuktu chronicles. His familiarity with Songhay oral tradition and religion also adds a new dimension to the ways in which Sonni Ali and other rulers are remembered for building their empires through military conquests aided by magic or occult knowledge. 

1000 Years of Economic Growth and Regression on the Middle Niger

Le développement et la régression chez les peuples de la boucle du Niger à l'époque précolonial by Michael Tymowski is an ambitious work. An attempt to make sense of around 1000 years of economic progress and regression along a key part of the Western Sudan (centered on the Middle Niger), Tymowski relies heavily on the Timbuktu chronicles, external Arabic sources, and oral traditions. He persuasively makes the case for economic development with the growth of urban centers, limited private land tenure, and accelerated long-distance trade, which later declined in the 1600s and 1700s. This shows that the history of "development" in sub-Saharan African areas has always been dynamic, and not simply one of timeless "backwardness" or irrelevance. 

However, Tymowski's study is quite outdated and relies on French translations of sources in Arabic. It also relies heavily on Jean Rouch and other somewhat outdated scholarship on Songhay ethnography and oral traditions, even repeating the unproven claim that the Dia/Za dynasty of early Songhay rulers were actually Lemta Berbers. In addition, he heavily relied on the problematic Tarikh al-Fattash chronicle for assertions about servile/caste populations. This dependence on French translations of Arabic sources and outmoded scholarship on Songhay ethnography and oral traditions suggest possible limitations of Tymowski's study. While one must acknowledge that the aforementioned Timbuktu chronicles are probably reliable for the 1400s and 1500s (at least more so than for earlier centuries), Tymowski's attempt to derive meaningful conclusions or theories about the economic development of the Mali Empire and Songhay Empire may be misleading or problematic. Nonetheless, there are a number of intriguing ideas about the relationship between the towns (Gao, Djenne, Timbuktu) and the countryside, as well as the role of the state in promoting land tenure arrangements along the lines of property property or through state domains (those of the askias) that controlled and promoted the redistribution of goods.

The Northern Factor in Ashanti History

Ivor Wilks wrote an intriguing monograph several decades ago, The Northern Factor in Ashanti History. Due to our similar interest in the "northern factor" in Yoruba history (and, to a lesser extent, Dahomey and Borgu history), we found it imperative to actually read it. Wilks presents what may be a sometimes exaggerated role of Islam in 18th century and early 19th century Asante, but it does seem quite likely that trade routes to the North through Begho and later centers was of paramount importance. Like the Oyo Yoruba state, the Asante state appears to have tapped into both Atlantic and broader Sudanic/trans-Saharan trade routes. 

Unlike Oyo, the Ashanti did not require large amounts of imported horses for cavalry units. Nonetheless, the gold and kola nuts of Ghana were highly valuable commodities that brought traders from both the Western and Central Sudan into the region. Through control of or taxation of trade routes used by these northern traders, the Asante state could derive great revenues as well as import cloth and other goods not available from the trade with Europeans on the coast. Aspects of this history is revealed by written sources from Gonja and the north. European accounts plus other sources similarly shed light on the importance of these northern ties that linked this part of Ghana with the Middle Niger, the Sahara, and Hausaland. 

West African Muslims from far afield, in addition to Muslims from areas to the north conquered by Asante, were also a valued community for their literacy, the esteem in which their religion was held, and their economic importance. Whether or not Dupuis's "sketch" of Asante history as revealed to him by manuscripts and conversations with notable Muslims in Kumasi is very reliable for how the Asante themselves saw their history, it is nonetheless important to recall that the Asante rulers sponsored a history, or chronicle,  written by Muslims. The attempt by Wilks to reproduce the accounts given to Dupuis reveals just how problematic this source material can be, though it does reveal how one could and should endeavor to utilize Arabic and European sources (plus oral traditions) to make sense of the history of the Asante. 

Arabic Medieval Inscriptions and Songhay History

Arabic Medieval Inscriptions from the Republic of Mali: Epigraphy, Chronicles and Songhay-Tuareg History by P.F. de Moraes Farias has long been on our reading list. One of the essential studies that endeavors to incorporate medieval epigraphic sources into our understanding of the history of the Songhay and the eastern arc of the Niger, this important work, despite its (necessarily) occasional speculative nature, raises a number of questions about the received wisdom on the history of Mali. First, by exploring the problematic way in which Heinrich Barth, Delafosse, and others have problematically assumed the 17th century Timbuktu chronicles can be treated as a reservoir of basic facts and data without any deeper ideological or textual analysis, this study illustrates how and why the funerary and non-funerary epigraphic evidence has been ignored, sidelined, or treated as peripheral. 

However, the funerary sources, as early sources covering dates from the early 11th century until the end of the 15th, are actual textual sources from the period before the rise of Sonni Ali and Askia Muhammad I. They shed (some) light on earlier rulers at Gao and Saney with more than just the kingslists that appear in the 17th century chronicles. Moreover, by ignoring the innovative nature of the tarikh genre in the 17th century Western Sudan, and the specific political and socioeconomic conditions which shaped its development after the fall of the Songhay imperial state and the establishment of the Arma, modern scholars have underappreciated the creativity of the chroniclers and their own motives. Furthermore, the chroniclers themselves lamented the lack of sufficient or detailed records from the early history of the Western Sudan, so epitaphs and other inscriptions from the 11th-15th century become exceptionally important sources to supplement our meager knowledge of that era.

That said, the inscriptions obviously cannot tell us everything. They do, however, provide a vista onto how the deceased and those who erected stelae or inscribed tombstones for the dead conceived of time, the calendar, their connection to the larger world of Islam, and hints of kingship, ethnicity, language, or cultural change. Part of this can be seen in Bentyia, where inscriptions record Songhay, Berber, and what appear to be Mande names. The intense interplay between Songhay and Tuareg cultures also challenges us to rethink casual or simplistic assumptions about "race" and culture, too. For instance, the askia title, which appeared in inscriptions centuries before the rise of Askia Muhammad at the end of the 15th century, may have a connection to a word of Berber derivation referring to a male slave (though this is a complex question that requires deeper familiarity with Songhay linguistics and oral tradition). It's quite clear, too, from reading de Moraes Farias, that the Ali Kulun character of Tuareg oral literature was likely the source for how the Timbuktu chroniclers sought to make sense of the period of Mali imperial domination of Gao and the eastern Niger. This suggests that some of the narratives about that period reported in the chronicles are unhistorical and the chronology of Malian rule and the different dynasties that ruled Gao will remain up for debate. 

Whether or not the epigraphic evidence can be used to postulate how kingship might have operated at Gao before the period of Mali's domination is uncertain, but de Moraes Farias's theory of rotating succession in the 11th-13th centuries is an intriguing one., After all, based on the funerary inscriptions from the early 1100s and 1200s at Gao and Saney (another site near Gao), he speculates that there may have been two lines or royal clans who alternated kingship. The first one was definitely Muslim by the second half of the 1000s, and the second one, the so-called Zuwa 'dynasty' may have either been officeholders who shared power with the earlier 'dynasty'. 

Besides raising questions about the Timbuktu chronicles and how medieval inscriptions in Arabic force us to rethink or reconceptualize space, belief, and culture in the medieval Sahel, one is also left with tantalizing references to what may have been early Sufist influence in the Sahel at Junhan. One is also left wondering why it funerary inscriptions were in vogue at Gao, Saney, Bentyia, and Essuk (Tadmakka) but no evidence for the practice has been found yet in Kanem. One would expect that similar connections with Tripoli, Qayrawan and other parts of the Maghrib (as well as similar Saharan and Sahelian Berber populations) did not lead to the development of funerary inscriptions at sites like Njimi (or perhaps at Manan, the earlier capital of Kanem which remains unknown). If the early prominence of Ibadis in Kanem's trans-Saharan trade is a factor, something similar was also an inhibiting factor at Gao.

"Bambara" Timeline

Adanson's augmented/revised map includes the "Bambara Empire" of which he knew little except for its role in providing slaves.

-1063: Tunka Manin of Ghana (Wagadu) ascended to the throne

-c.1137: al-Zuhri writes of Ghana attacking "Barabara" people for slaves, as well as Tadmakka raids against the "Barbara" pagans. The description of al-Zuhri is quite ambiguous, but the "Barbara" appear to have been pagan peoples related to the peoples of Ghana and to have practiced facial scarification and believed in their own nobility.

-1464-65: Sonni Ali of Songhay defeats Mossi ruler, Komdao, pursuing him to limits of "Bambara' land (Tarikh al-Fattash)

-c.1506: Earliest written attestation of "Bambara" in the Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis, a work referencing Banbarranaa, Beetu and Bahaa as towns whose inhabitants travel to Toom to buy gold for slaves. Mandingua merchants buy gold in the fairs there. 

-c.1558: Askia Dawud of Songhay, in addressing the ruler of Jenne, alludes to Bambara incursions.

-after 1591: Pagan "Bambara" referenced as attacking Jenne after the fall of Songhay (Tarikh al-Sudan). 

-c.1593-1608-1615: Ahmad Baba of Timbuktu, in his response to the questions of al-Isi on who was permissible to enslave, mentions the Bambara and Bobo as pagans beyond Jenne. A Bambara presence in Kala is also mentioned. The Bambara may also have been referenced as the pagan population living closest to the lands of Islam.

-1597-98: Pagan Bambara referenced in the Tarikh al-Sudan as allies of Hammad Amina, ruler of Masina

-1599: Mansa Mahmud IV of Mali fails to take Jenne

-1644: Revolt of Bambara of Segu area (Abitbol), possibly the revolt against the Sanakoi and Farkakoi 

-c.1650: Traditions indicate Bamana presence in Segu by 1650

-1674: Arma expedition against Bambara in Bara

-Late 1600s: Kaladian Koulibaly active as leader.

-c.1712-1755: Reign of Biton Koulibaly at Segu

-c.1715: Ruler of Cheibi fled to Douko, Bambara town, to escape an attack from the Pasha of Timbuktu

-1716: "Bambara" soldiers in Timbuktu

-1716-1719: Military expeditions against Bara Bambara from Arma of Timbuktu

-by 1719: "Bambara" slaves in Jacmel Quartier of Saint-Domingue (if not present earlier)

-1728: Labat describes people of Bambara as slaves of their king

-1731: Conflict between Haoussa and Gourma and Bambara pagans; Samba Rebellion in Louisiana, led by a "Bambara" slave 

-1733: Askia el-Hadj aids son of Maro to defeat Silti-Ouerendagh, pagan Bambara

-1739: Calm for all Bambara from Dirma to Bara and Bara to the west; reports of Fa Maghan the Wangara attacking Jenne and Bambara tradition of Fa Maghan attacking Segu and his defeat (Chronicles of Gonja)

-1740s: Long drought that severely impacted the Sahel region of West Africa

-c.1742: Pasha Said attacks 11 Bambara towns or settlements near the town of Askia El-Hadj

-1747: Ighor, a "Bambari," attacked caravan of Alid Oualata, taking prisoners.

-1753-1754: Segu blocked town of Sansa, Masina, and killed its chief, Folokoro

-1754-55: Segu attempts to take Jenne

-1755: Death of Biton Kulibali

-1756-57: Murder of Doukoure, son of Biton Kulibali, by slaves of Biton; Segu ruler who attempted to impose Islam deposed (faama Ali)

-1757: Adanson's Histoire naturelle du Sénégal: coquillages refers to the "Bambara Empire" that provided captives sold at Galam and the Gambia. 

-1758-59: Death of Kedebo Kanimou, ruler of Segu, after Tames. Succeeded by Kafa Dyogui, 3rd slave to govern Segu after death of Biton Kulibali.

-1766: Ngolo Dyara seizes power in Segu (reigns 16-18 years)

-1775-76: One of slave leaders of Biton Kulibali pillaged town of Hammat

-1788: Jacques Jacquet, dit Bambara, free black near Mirebalais (Saint-Domingue) appears as owner of runaway slave

-1790: Death of Ngolo Dyara, Reign of Da Manzon begins

-before 1791: a "Bambara camp" or neighborhood of Port-Louis in Mauritius established

-1796: Segu attacks Kaarta; Mungo Park visits Segu

-c.1806: Death of Gilles Bambara, a leader in the Haitian Revolution imprisoned by Dessalines for bring up "caste" (the color question). 

-1812: Muhammad Bello of Sokoto writes of the Bambara land as one rich in gold and inhabited by pagans

Sources

Abitbol, Michel. Tombouctou Et Les Arma: De La Conquête Marocaine Du Soudan Nigérien En 1591 à L'hégémonie De L'empire Peulh Du Macina En 1833. Paris: G.-P. Maisonneuve et Larose, 1979.

Amselle, Jean-Loup, and Elikia M'Bokolo. Au Cœur De L'ethnie: Ethnies, Tribalisme Et État En Afrique. Paris: Découverte, 1985.

Caron, Peter. 1997. “‘Of a Nation Which the Others Do Not Understand’: Bambara Slaves and African Ethnicity in Colonial Louisiana, 1718–60.” Slavery & Abolition 18 (1): 98–121. doi:10.1080/01440399708575205.

Clozel, F.-J. (François-Joseph), and Maurice Delafosse. Haut--Sénégal--Niger (Soudan Franc̜ais): Séries D'etudes Pub. Sous La Direction De M. Le Gouverneur Clozel .. Paris: E. Larose, 1912.

Courlander, Harold, and Ousmane Sako. The Heart of the Ngoni: Heroes of the African Kingdom of Segu. 1st pbk. ed. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1994.

Geggus, David. "The French Slave Trade: An Overview." The William and Mary Quarterly 58, no. 1 (2001): 119-38. Accessed October 3, 2020. doi:10.2307/2674421.

Gomez, Michael A. African Dominion: A New History of Empire in Early and Medieval West Africa. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018.

Green, Toby. A Fistful of Shells: West Africa from the Rise of the Slave Trade to the Age of Revolution. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019.

Hall, Gwendolyn Midlo. Africans in Colonial Louisiana: The Development of Afro-Creole Culture in the Eighteenth Century. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992.

Hopkins, J. F. P., and Nehemia Levtzion. Corpus of Early Arabic Sources for West African History. 1st Markus Weiner Publishers ed. Princeton [N.J.]: Markus Wiener Publishers, 2000.

Houdas, Octave Victor. 1901. Tedzkiret En-Nisian Fi Akhbar Molouk Es-Soudan. Paris: E. Loroux.

Levtzion, Nehemia. Ancient Ghana and Mali. New York, N.Y.: Africana Pub. Company, 1980.

Maghīlī, Muḥammad ibn ʻAbd al-Karīm, and John O. Hunwick. Sharīʻa in Songhay: The Replies of Al-Maghīlī to the Questions of Askia Al-Ḥājj Muḥammad. London ; New York: Published for the British Academy by Oxford University Press, 1985.

Marty, Paul (trans.). 1927. Les Chroniques de Oualata et de Nema (Soudan Francais). Paris: Paul Geuthner.

Monteil, Charles. Les Bambara Du Ségou Et Du Kaarta: (Étude Historique, Ethnographique Et Littéraire D'une Peuplade Du Soudan Française). Paris: É. Larose, 1923.

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

Richard, François G., and Kevin C. MacDonald (editors). Ethnic Ambiguity and the African Past: Materiality, History, and the Shaping of Cultural Identities. Walnut Creek, California: Left Coast Press, Inc., 2015.

Roberts, Richard L. Warriors, Merchants, and Slaves: The State and the Economy in the Middle Niger Valley, 1700-1914. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1987.

Saʻdī, ʻAbd al-Raḥmān ibn ʻAbd Allāh, and John O. Hunwick. Timbuktu and the Songhay Empire: Al-Saʻdi's Taʼrikh Al-Sudan Down to 1613 and Other Contemporary Documents. Leiden ; Boston: Brill, 1999. 

Timbuktī, Maḥmūd Kutī ibn Mutawakkil Kutī, Christopher Wise, and Hala Abu Taleb. Taʼrīkh Al Fattāsh =: The Timbuktu Chronicles, 1493-1599: English Translation of the Original Works in Arabic By Al Hajj Mahmud Kati. Trenton, N.J.: Africa World Press, 2011.

Mali and the "Western Sudan"

Another interesting thing about the Ancestry Update is seeing the 4 reference populations used for their "Mali" region. This area is based on the Bambara, Dogon, Fula and Mende, although they also state that populations with similar genetic background can be found in Burkina Faso, Cote D'Ivoire, Gambia, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Niger, Senegal (as well as Mali and Sierra Leone). Our Haitian parent, the origin of our "Mali" ancestry, has also matched with people from this region as distant cousins (1 from Mali, another from Sierra Leone of a Mandinka background). Since "Mandingues" and "Bambaras" were present in Saint-Domingue, it seems very likely that some of our ancestors came from this region of West Africa. Indeed, Ancestry assigned us 6% in the 2024 update, and the "hacked" results put it at 6.89% for "Mali." Perhaps some of our distant forebears were from Segu or Kaarta, but were captured and sold to the French slave traders on the coast of Senegal?

Ancestry's "Senegal" category also overlaps with this, which we inherited from both sides for a total of 4% (3.80% according to the "hacked" results). Alas, the specific ethnic groups used as reference for this category are not listed, although we know Poulards, "Senegalois" and Wolofs were in Saint-Domingue. We suspect the "Senegal" inherited from our Spanish Caribbean ancestry might reflect some of the ethnic groups known to be in the West Indies in the 1500s and 1600s, such as the Wolof, Berbersi, and others. Unfortunately, without knowing the ethnic breakdown of the reference populations for "Senegal" and other West African regions, like Ivory Coast and Ghana, it is difficult to say.

Mali, Masks and Mosques

François-Xavier Fauvelle's highly readable Les masques et la mosquee: L'empire du Mali (XIII-XIVe siecle) is based on a series of lectures given by the author, benefitting from its written form to incorporate new insights and depth. Due to the limitation of the available sources, Fauvelle endeavors to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a manner that is likely or at least to propose hypotheses that match or can correspond with what is known, often without adopting literalist interpretations of external Arabic sources or the large corpus of oral traditions. Thus, a possible area is proposed for the site of Mali's capital during the 1300s, when Mali was at its apogee. In addition, a reinterpretation of Ibn Khaldun's chronology of Mali kings in the 1200s and 1300s is offered that attempts to make sense of the two distinct "houses" of the imperial dynasty, one claiming descent from Sunjata and the other from his brother, Abu Bakr. The legendary Mansa Musa, a descendant of the house of Abu Bakr, may not be remembered by traditionists because of his lack of direct descent from Sunjata. While some of the ideas of Fauvelle are still just hypotheses, we found his analysis of Mansa Musa's pilgrimage and the story of his rise to the throne interesting. Mansa Musa as Moses and his predecessor, who allegedly perished in the Atlantic, as a Pharaoh, is a "fresh take" on the anecdote and how Mansa Musa possibly positioned himself in relation to Quranic or Islamic notions of Moses and proper leadership. The intriguing take on Malian court ritual under Mansa Sulayman is also fascinating, indicating how the rulers of the Mali Empire were mansas and sultans who interfaced between two distinct conceptions of power and legitimacy.

Studium Historiae on Ghana

It's always a delight to find serious or semi-serious people creating online videos or posting articles about the ancient kingdom of Ghana. Of course, it would be even better if an academic like Bathily or perhaps Soninke-speaking historians were posting this type of content in French or English. If they, like Bathily, could draw on their knowledge of the Soninke language and Soninke oral traditions and ethnographies, I believe we could get a bit closer to what Ghana actually was like.

The Sultanate of Mali

Hadrien Collet's Le sultanat du Mali - Histoire régressive d'un empire médiéval XXIe-XIVe siècle is a challenging read. Very academic and interested in avoiding literalist readings of oral traditions or Arabic sources, the focus of this regressive history is an emphasis on the historiography of Mali. This historiography reveals discursive practices of various generations of historians who wrote about the past of Mali, from Mamluk-era scholars like al-Umari to the post-medieval historians and chroniclers of the Timbuktu tarikh tradition or colonial and post colonial academics and scholars. By highlighting the historiographical turn, Collet's study endeavors to understand the ideological, literary, and other contexts of the key texts utilized as sources to construct a narrative of the "imperial" era in the Western Sudan. Likewise, a rereading of Arabic sources and a desire to place them in their context reveals how al-Umari, Ibn Battuta, and others from the Muslim world conceived of Mali in terms of Islamic geography, science, literature, and geopolitics. By attempting to understand the larger context for our external sources on Mali, instead of relying on extracts that divorce these sources from their larger context, one can gain new insights into the origin and meaning of the relevant writings. Collet's text particularly does this with regard to al-Umari's encyclopedic chapter on Mali and the Rihla of Ibn Battta. Surprisingly, Ibn Khaldun, who provides some of the richest information on Mali in the external sources, does not receive a chapter.

The choice of beginning with the colonial-era scholarship of the likes of a Delafosse and orientalists like Cooley to the nationalist scholarship of Mamby Sidibe or the post colonial age of scholarship from the likes of D.T. Niane and Cheikh Anta Diop, makes it easier to see for the reader how the narrative of the "Mali Empire" developed and became an established historical "fact" in academic, Afrocentric and online discourse. However, a deeper analysis of the ways in which this narrative was established by scholars and academics in the 19th and 20th centuries reveals a number of problems and concerns. Since we have not examined some of the scholarship analyzed here, particularly the works of Monteil or the Malian and Guinean publications of the post colonial era, we nonetheless find a problem with the colonialist, nationalist, Afrocentric, and interpretative lens used by these scholars. The colonial-era ones, for instance, like Delafosse, did not always cite their oral sources clearly and later scholars adopted a sometimes uncritical use of oral traditions, treating the griots as "neutral" reservoirs of "raw facts" or data that can be used to supplement the meager external Arabic sources for the medieval sultanate of Mali. In reality, however, these oral traditions as preserved by griots are not frozen in time but adaptable to new conditions and meanings to retain their relevance. In other words, scholars may have rushed to historicize figures like Sundiata while also promoting the narrative of a precociously modern "constitution" for the state established by this figure. 

In short, scholars must use oral traditions as carefully as written sources, and in so doing will similarly recognize the agency and creativity of griots as historians. This type of analysis will potentially elucidate or bring us closer to answering the questions of past generations of specialists and scholars. For instance, using oral traditions and archaeological data critically to rethink the location of the capital of the Mali sultanate. Instead of looking to Niani, the discredited imperial capital promoted by colonial scholars and Niane, the capital of the sultanate may have been further north and not in the Manden heartland as we know it today. Likewise, the collection of oral traditions in different parts of Manden and trying to analyze how they reflect post-"imperial" Mali conditions after the loss of their northern territories (Djenne, Walata, Timbuktu, etc.) highlights the "living" nature or conditions of oral traditions.

The next section analyzes post-medieval West African historians in an intriguing manner. Building on the model of historian Paulo Fernando de Moreas Farias and Mauro Nobili, the famous tarikhs of Timbuktu are seen in a new light. In addition, 19th century Islamic scholars such as Muhammad Bello of Sokoto and the chronicles and writings of Muslim scholars from Walata and the Hamdullahi caliphate. By treating the authors of texts as historian colleagues, one can begin to see how their construction of Mali and the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa functioned to express an Islamic West African conception of the region's past. Takrur, for example, is redefined by these authors in ways that clearly deviate from the historical kingdom of Takrur or the use of the term by Mamluk scholars in the East. Mansa Musa and his wondrous pilgrimage, the sponsorship of mosques, and the honor he accorded to the ulama represent a model of leadership. Like the future Askia Muhammad's function in the chronicles, Mansa Musa therefore served as an exemplary Islamic ruler who also helped establish Takrur as a Muslim geographic space. Although our 17th century chroniclers al-Sa'adi and Ibn Muhtar appear to have largely relied on oral traditions for Mali and a few external Arabic sources, their anecdotes, stories, and traditions on the Middle Niger's past under Malian suzerainty indicate the enduring memory and legacy of the kingdom. Even when in conflict with Songhay, the Islamic sultanate Collet suggests may be conceived as "modern" or "early modern" rather than medieval, Mali and the memory of Mansa Musa suggest it retained its power and legacy as an Islamic state. 

The final chapters analyzing the major external Arabic sources (al-Umari, Ibn Battuta) and the Mamluk-era writings on the pilgrimage of Mansa Musa, present, perhaps, the denouement of the historiographical and hermeneutical turn embodied in this work. These sources, written in the time of the Mali sultanate's zenith or soon after, reflect the power and reputation attained by the West African state after Mansa Musa's pilgrimage impressed Mamluk Cairo in 1325. Collet's reading of al-Umari and Ibn Battuta exemplifies this well, as both authors receive detailed treatment in terms of their backgrounds, their writings beyond the well-known extracts on Mali, and the literary and intellectual concerns and styles of their respective genres. Seeing Ibn Battuta and Ibn Guzzay's co-produced narrative as literary does not mean the voyage to the Sudan never happened (although it is possible Ibn Battuta never went beyond Walata). Indeed, following literary conventions and seeing the topology of the genre of travel writings that situated the Sudan (Black Africa) and the Far East as distinct zones bordering the unknown lands. The notion of "marvels" used here, particularly in the chapter on Ibn Battuta, was fascinating and points to, in our opinion, the overall veracity of Ibn Battuta's account of Mali. While undoubtedly drawing on a larger corpus of literature on the "Land of the Blacks" in Arabic literature, the local customs and "exoticisms" described in the text are sometimes unique and, if not directly witnessed by Ibn Battuta himself, were based on first-hand accounts. Like al-Umari, who also occasionally drew from the larger context of Arabic literary conventions and geography on sub-Saharan Africa, Ibn Battuta's story of cannibals to the south of Mali and other "marvels" demonstrates the literary nature of the source. That insight, however, does not mean the journey to Mali never occurred. It actually offers a new perspective that can raise new questions and conclusions about the nature of Mali during the 14th century. 

Sadly, Ibn Khaldun's detailed analysis of Mali does not have a separate chapter in Collet's detailed book. It is a shame, since Ibn Khaldun's use of a "Takruri" informant from Ghana indicates the presence of an account drawing on a different regime of truth. Indeed, the Takruri faqih in Cairo may represent a late 14th century West African perspective on Mali, drawing on "fresh" traditions and possibly written sources for his reconstruction of the chronology of mansas. Uthman, this Ghana faqih interpreted via Ibn Khaldun, represents, besides Mansa Musa himself in the reports on the pilgrimage, the closest thing to a contemporary "internal" voice on the sultanate. It would have been interesting to read Collet's breakdown of Ibn Khaldun and his larger sociopolitical theory of history in this context, as well as an early local/West African history of Mali. Otherwise, al-Umari largely relied on al-Dukkali, who is said to have lived in Mali's capital for several years, or the filtered accounts of what Mansa Musa was reported to have said to Mamluk officials during his Egyptian sojourn. Even if Ibn Khaldun's account is not particularly reliable, the use of Takruri informants who were contemporaries of 14th century Mali merits further investigation. 

Contribution to the History of the Mali Empire

Madina Ly Tall's Contribution à l'histoire de l'Empire du Mali, (XIIIe-XVIe siècles): limites, principales provinces, institutions politiques is by now a dated yet provocative interpretation of the Mali Empire. Pushing back against earlier authors like Delafosse who believed Mali disintegrated into irrelevance by the early decades of the 15th century, Ly Tall uses Portuguese sources and oral traditions to demonstrate the power and economic importance of Mali in 15th and 16th century gold trade, especially through its control of the Gambia for access to coastal trade. The Malian historian also utilized the usual Arabic sources (medieval external Arabic ones like that of al-Umari or Ibn Khaldun and the later chronicles like the Tarikh al-Fattash) and oral traditions recorded in earlier sources or from her own fieldwork. Thus, through an impressive use of nearly all types of sources (including the limited archaeological work in Mali and the site of Niani), the author presents a plausible Mali Empire through its provincial organization and administrative structure.

More than half of the text consists of short chapters on the various provinces of Mali that can be identified with a combination of textual and oral sources. These major provinces are then elucidated in terms of their possible importance in the Mali Empire and how they were lost to the center. Here is where the author is willing to push back against previous scholarship with regards to the eastern extent of Mali. During its apogee in the 14th century, Ly Tall believes the emperor did indeed include Tadmekka and Takedda, despite other historians disputing the problematic Arabic sources on the matter. Of course, due to the paucity of sources, it is possible that these eastern possessions were lost after a short period of time. Ly Tall also makes a problematic case for Kukia possibly remaining under Mali control well into the 15th century. This is based, in part, on the problematic references to a "Quioquia" in Portuguese sources. This, however, seems unlikely to have been the Kukiya associated with the Songhay and Gao. We find it unlikely that the Sonni or Si dynasty would have not controlled Kukiya by the 1430s if not far earlier. After all, Ly Tall herself implies that Mali lost control of much of its northern and eastern domains around the time it lost control of Timbuktu in the 1430s. Consequently, it seems unlikely to have held Kukiya, too. Of course, Ly Tall tdoes raise interesting pints due to the possible depopulation of Gao in c.1375 and its decline in the late 1300s and early 1400s but we believe it unlikely that Malian influence would have still been strong in that area. 

Outside of a few quibbles with questionable claims or debatable conclusions about Mali's imperial reach to the east and over Gao-Kukiya, the author endeavors to use oral traditions in conjunction with Ibn Khaldun, al-Umari, and Ibn Battuta to sketch the outline of imperial Mali's administration. According to her research, the empire appears to have not depended on enslaved officials, although she identifies a griot who was willing to explain the rise of one former slave official who usurped power (perhaps the Sakoura of Ibn Khaldun's account). The issue of succession, which we saw led to frequent conflicts, appears to have followed two patterns. After Sundiata, it was mainly collateral, moving from eldest brother to younger siblings. After Mansa Musa, however, the succession seems to have emphasized father-son inheritance. Perhaps this was due to the greater Islamization of the Mandingue aristocracy or the specific desires of rulers to ensure their sons would reign. Sadly, the lack of sources for later Mali history in the 15th and 16th century does not allow us to clearly identify which pattern of succession predominated. Perhaps, after losing its northern territories, the Mandingue returned to an emphasis on collateral succession, a principle deeply grounded in Mandingue polities and clan structure. In addition, the administrative structure was one that, of course, featured a prominent role for griots, repositories of tradition and history who were closely linked to the mansas. The Mali Empire's administrative structure also included a role for local dynasties in annexed or conquered territories, though sometimes replacing them with representatives of the central government. 

Overall, Ly Tall's study is a careful one that attempts to integrate all the known sources. While she appears to have lacked the ability to read Portuguese, the French and English translations provide enough data to demonstrate that Mali's influence continued in Gambia. Her argument that control of this stretch of the coast played a major role in the survival of a Mali empire until the end of the 16th century is an interesting one that could be strengthened with further data or figures on the scale of the gold trade with the Portuguese. Nonetheless, the fertility of the land along the Gambia River and the trade with Europeans on the coast likely did contribute to Mali's survival after the loss of its northern territories. That said, Malian control of some of the gold sources which provided gold to Djenne and Timbuktu must have been an important source of revenue for the mansas. Even if Songhay and, then the Pashalik in Timbuktu controlled the north, Mali remained relevant in the gold trade to the north. Indeed, as late as 1599, the mansa of Mali attempted to seize Djenne, proof that the state was still a power in the region and willing to try to retake former provinces. 

Africanobyzantina

Africanobyzantina is one of those deeply flawed but potentially fruitful analyses of the pre-Islamic past of Sudanic Africa. Positing a significant influence of Byzantium and medieval Nubian civilization on Sudanic Africa in the period of the 500s-700s, Theodōros Papadopoullos essentially restates the Hamitic Hypothesis for elucidating the rise of complex states and kingdoms in the Central and Western Sudan. However, he largely ignores pre-6th century history, overlooking any Egyptian and Kushite influences that permeated "Negro-Sudanese" Africa in Antiquity. So, using the Byzantine-sponsored Christianization of Nubia in the 6th century and the medieval Nubian kingdoms adoption of at least part of the Roman/Byzantine state apparatus and civilization, Papadopoullos endeavors to use a migration of said Nubians to the west to explain the development of civilizations like Kanem, Songhay, the Hausa states, and even the origins of the Jukun, Borgu, and Nupe. 

Like other theories based on the Hamitic Hypothesis, the vector of this civilizing current is presented as likely Zaghawa (although the Tuareg and their possible part eastern origins in northeast Africa is also considered), although the author fails to clarify how nomadic or seminomadic populations in the Sahara or Darfur and Chad were able to create kingdoms that brought Byzantine and oriental (Middle Eastern) statecraft to Black Africans. Presumably, actual Nubians and perhaps Copts and Persians, traveled to West Africa in large enough numbers to transfer aspects of their more "advanced" cultures but, naturally, our oral traditions and legends cited by the author fail to demonstrate this persuasively. Instead, what Papadopoullos achieves is a confused speculative theory based on outdated translations of Arabic sources (which he sometimes fails to address the contradictions of), problematic interpretations of said sources, and a large corpus of oral traditions collected by Frobenius, Meek, H.R. Palmer, and other Western colonial administrator-scholars and ethnographers. While there is undoubtedly great value in some of these traditions and, in the case of Palmer, local manuscripts written by locals in northern Nigeria, the methodological issues, language barriers, colonial context, and disturbing racialized framework adopted by these European scholars are never addressed or interrogated by Papadopoullos.

In spite of our criticisms of the book, there is nonetheless some merit to it. For instance, linguistic evidence studied by Claude Rilly does point to medieval Nubian contacts with peoples in western Sudan and eastern Chad. Some medieval Arabic sources do indeed reference contact between Nubia and the lands to their west. The Tuareg language does indeed include words of Latin or Greek origin that suggest a Christian past. And even some of the Kisra traditions analyzed by Papadopoullos seem to refer to historical events and personages relevant to the Persian conquest of Egypt and Sassanian conflict with the Byzantine Empire. And snippets of a pre-Islamic past that may have once been influenced by Christian Nubia can be occasionally seen here or there, if the references to Nasara or Christian-sounding practices are reliable in the traditions and accounts collected by Meeks, Frobenius and Palmer. Recent scholarship has also pointed out possible links between Nubia and the Lake Chad region through analysis of beads found at a site believed to have been a royal capital of Kanem, possibly Njimi. If the bead assemblage analyzed there was closer to those found in East Africa, and highly unlike the chemical composition of beads found at medieval sites in West Africa, the authors are probably correct to suspect trade links to the east that likely traversed Darfur and Nubia. 

Similarly, the aforementioned linguistic evidence of medieval Nubian influence on languages spoken between the Nile and Lake Chad points to potential Nubian trade, settlement, or migration into some of these areas. Some potential evidence of this can be seen in archaeological sites showing medieval Nubian extension west into Kordofan. Indeed, perhaps Muhammad Bello's tale of the Tuareg migration into Air from Kanem and Borno may have a kernel of truth, too, showing evidence of a Tubu, Kanuri, Tuareg, and Hausa interaction sphere by the 7th or 8th century that may have had ties to Nubia through trade. Archaeological evidence of pre-Islamic trans-Saharan at Marandet, Kissi and other sites that may have traded through the Fazzan or further east with the Nile Valley is also possible. Indeed, the Zaghawa word for king, kire, based on one Beria dictionary, sounds like it may be related to the Meroitic qore. In short, there are number of possible areas of influence from the Nubian civilizations, both Kushite and medieval, in the lands to the west. To what extent they actually influenced the Central and Western Sudan is unknown, but contacts were probable and likely predate medieval Nubia. 

Nonetheless, a deeper study of these aforementioned traditions and sources is required, especially with scholars who are well-versed local languages and have an understanding of how Islamic-influenced histories and legends draw on Jewish and Christian traditions. Due to his reliance on these highly problematic colonial-era scholars and colonial administrators, and the author's reliance on sometimes flawed translations of Arabic materials, he ends up promoting the Hamitic Hypothesis in a slightly different manner yet still flawed and lacking merit. It is also likely that some of the traditions recorded by locals, upon the insistence of Palmer or with his sponsorship, were influenced by more erudite traditions of Islamic history that included more specific knowledge of Sassanian Persian wars with the Byzantine Empire. Indeed, in East Africa, a Swahili poet even wrote about the Heraclius. To what degree the traditions collected by individuals like these actually reflect the Mandara, Borno, Nupe, or Hausa traditions of origin must be addressed, particularly in the ways traditions mutate or incorporate new figures over time. One must also look for actual evidence of migration of Persians, Copts, or Nubians in the period from the 6th century to the 8th century, too, since the author seems to think these Byzantine and eastern influences arrived via actual migratory movements that were associated with the Zaghawa (and, possibly, Tuareg, whose ancestors may have come from the east as well as Berber North Africa). Finally, scholars must also look to local and intra-regional factors and developments to avoid hyperdiffusionist thinking. Perhaps a deeper look at non-Islamic societies in West or Central Africa may have helped the author avoid assuming complex state administrative features or court rituals are only a product of contact with the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern worlds.