Discovering the Amazon

Amazonian Indians in a drawing by Guaman Poma

After finally reading Friar Carvajal's account of the expedition down the Amazon of Francisco de Orellana in The Discovery of the Amazon: According to the Account of Friar Gaspar de Carvajal and Other Documents, one is left with nothing but confusion. The brief yet exciting report includes numerous fights, close calls, multiple bouts of hunger, and, surprisingly, few deaths. One also suspects that Carvajal may have exaggerated the numbers of indigenous combatants they defeated, suggesting almost superhuman powers, military skill, and brilliant leader from Orellana. The reality was likely more complex, and as suggested by Carvajal himself, the initial successes of Orellana may have owed more to his ability to communicate in an indigenous language and a generous exchange of gifts with "overlords" or Indian rulers. However, what is even more interesting of the account are the numerous references to streets, temples, large settlements (large enough to be cities), fortified sites, monuments, and "overlords" with control of substantial areas, some quite densely inhabited. Machiparo, for example, was said to have as many as 50,000 men for war with many settlements, including one of about 5 leagues. 

With recent archaeologists and new technology uncovering evidence of cities in the ancient Amazon, Carvajal's writings have taken on more importance. However, it is often so vague or ambiguous (and problematic) to make sense of some of his observations. For instance, many of the "advanced" cultures he described seem more like the Incas or Peruvian highland cultures than Amazonian. Indeed, one powerful lord or ruler, Aparia, reported to the Spanish expedition that a very wealthy lord named "Ica" possessed gold and great wealth further in the interior. Well, Ica almost sounds like Inca. Some of the other advanced peoples either unseen or barely observed by the expedition also allegedly possessed camels, gold, silver, woven textiles, and even stone architecture. Moreover, some of these peoples allegedly possessed fine, multicolored or painted cups, jars and porcelain as well as idols made of woven feathers (featuring pierced ears resembling that of the Incas). They were also said to worship the Sun (called Chise in one context) and give chicha to the solar deity. 

With the exception of some Indians wearing golden attire who came to bring gifts to Orellana, receiving trinkets in exchange, these wealthy, gold-rich Indians are sadly enigmatic. Somehow, however, a powerful society of women rulers, living in stone homes, were able to conquer and impose tribute on various peoples closer to the Amazon River, including feathers from birds as part of their tribute exacted from vassals. Even more strange, these Amazon women were, according to Carvajal, white, tall warriors with long, braided hair. His legendary-like description of their society surely suggests more fiction than reality. Their society seems that of the Incas except with female rulers, even down to the temples dedicated to the Sun (caranain). According to Carvajal, some of these female Amazon women were actually killed by the Spaniards in their battles with vassal "overlords" closer to the river. But, the obviously fantastical nature of the Amazonian women plus their unreliable informant (an Indian male unable to communicate well with Orellana), suggests either a misunderstanding or perhaps a myth with European imagination filling any gaps in the miscommunication. 

So, was there an Inca-like civilization in the Amazon? Conditions were undoubtedly more complex, but one wonders if some Amazonian peoples paying tribute in tropical bird feathers may have been part of a process that began far earlier with long-distance trade connected to the Andes. Some groups in the vast region were definitely once more urbanized or had larger populations, and they may have woven cloth, built more temples, and designed "hewn tree" monuments in the center of large urban plazas. And certainly people were moving across vast distances along the River or via other routes, such as Tupinamba who reached Chachapoyas in 1549.

Blacks, Race and Colonial Quito

Three mulatos of Esmeraldas (Wikipedia)

Sherwin Bryant’s Rivers of Gold, Lives of Bondage: Governing through Slavery in Colonial Quito offers an analysis of slavery in colonial Ecuador to suggest the centrality of slavery to colonial development and the emergence of race as a modality of early modern colonial governance (29). Bryant suggests that scholars sometimes lose themselves in their focus on the labor metaphor of slavery so they do not heed adequate attention to slavery’s role in colonialism, social practice and race (28). According to Bryant, “This book argues, however, that race was inscribed and conditioned through early modern practices of differentiated rule, insisting that it is possible to recuperate an early modern history of race as constituted over time through a series of colonial governing practices” (35).

Fundamental to Bryant’s analysis is a theory linking the formulation of race as a constitution of Europe and non-Europe through systems of governance (37). The first chapter contextualizes this development through the history of Castilian expansion, an expansion based on war and making slaves out of captives. Enslavement and the encomienda were dual modes of establishing colonial authority, extracting labor, and extending Christian discipline (60). Moving on to colonial Quito, Bryant draws on examples of maroons, slave codes, and the use of slaves in the battles between royalists and Pizarrists in the 1540s and 1550s. Bryant concludes, “Laws governing slavery aided, therefore, in the extension of royal sovereignty” (69). The colonial government naturalized slavery’s association with blacks and to foreign African territorial subjection while indigeneity was associated with vassalage (72). Additional examples of his argument tie slaves to the development of markets, claiming new territories, and the gold-mining labor force of Barbacoas (90). The second chapter shifts to an analysis of of the slave trade, diverse origins of Africans, varying rates of arrival and points of entry. The mechanisms of slave trading to and within Quito helped form Castilian governance based on race relations (97).  Africans who entered the Americas were a people identified as having “black” territorial origins, dubious “national” affiliations and physical or moral qualities legitimizing their enslavement (98). This governance based on race relations marked by slave status formed the context in which Africans developed diasporic kinship practices (103). Thus, the “social death” of blacks relied on the living processes of racial governance through the marking, constitution, and governance of non-European bodies for the elaboration of imperial power (104). Blackening, branding, and baptizing became the constitutive practices of slavery (105). Blackening, in short, binds subjects to territorial origins and assemblages of power (105). Baptism served to incorporate blackened subjects as new but debased subjects of servitude. 

The third and fourth chapters shift to communities and enslaved rebels, fugitives and litigants. In the former chapter, Bryant analyzes black cofradias, the role of the Church in legalizing the status of slaves, and the racializing practices of Church baptism and marriage. To the author, African "nations" were productions of the racialized colonial gaze (167). The fourth chapter uses examples of civil cases and the strategies of slaves in political and radical ways before and after 1750. The combination of slave marronage, the use of courts for redress, and rebellion coexisted, with the threat of violent resistance shaping the legal system. Per Bryant, “The legal system thus served as a safety valve, allowing an avenue for redress so they did not have to resort to more violent, extralegal measures” (224).  The overall thrust of the text is a call for the importance of slavery in the shaping of societies like Quito, where slaves were a minority of the population. Also important are the larger role of racialization and Spanish crown authority in the development of slavery in colonial Quito and Spanish America. Beyond its function as a source of labor for the development of markets and the economy, slavery also functioned as an assertion of crown rule and power. In order to legitimize their enslavement, the foreign territorial origins of Africans and their moral and physical qualities were used by pro-slavery voices to create a subject people. Slavery in colonial Quito, therefore, was vital to the foundation of the colony, the establishment of colonial governance, and the formation of race.

Black subjectivity in Rivers of Gold is best exemplified in chapters 3 and 4, where the focus shifts to slave marriage, family structures, sacred communities, and the legal system. In those areas one comes closest to glimpses of black subjectivity, of blacks as subjects whose lives were within, but not entirely defined by social structures. While the overall argument of the book appears to be one based on the structural factors of slavery in colonial Quito as related to colonial governance, black subjectivity was part of this process. Slave marriage, family or kinship networks, and sacred communities provides some of the best examples of articulations of black subjectivity. Indeed, “Their processions, marriages, and baptisms reveal how the enslaved crafted moments to seize pleasure, repossess their bodies, fix kin, and pool resources as sacred communities.” (167). Although their African diasporic ethnicities reflected the colonial gaze, people of African descent created forms of kinship and belonging among themselves. For instance, in baptisms, enslaved people sometimes chose free blacks as godparents for their children, but not the other way around (184). This suggests the strategic choices made in determining kin that illustrate slaves choosing kin who could help their progeny. Examples of black women serving as godmothers to Indian children also complicate notions of kinship (187). Slave marriages additionally point to exogamous, or interethnic partners in Barbacoas (201). Moreover, slaves appealed to authorities to protect their conjugal rights, as in the case of Joachin and Ysabel Congo, who sought new owners (196). In the case of slave communities on Jesuit-owned plantations in the 18th century, one finds even more evidence of slave kinship and community formation. For instance, Jesuits did not disrupt families on the estates. However, after the expulsion of the order and the sale of their complex of plantations to various buyers, slaves were relocated or resold and estates were neglected. This led to a petition by Pedro Pascual Lucumin in 1778, alleging that the Concepcion estate was neglected and its enslaved laborers mistreated (212). The Jesuit-owned complex points to forms of kinship and solidarity among its workers that lasted for generations, as well as forms of collective resistance. Indeed, the 266  enslaved workers at the Quajara sugar plantation threatened to kill the new owner’s indigenous workers and flee to the mountains if he continued with plans to prohibit their movement and sell some of the estate’s labor force (230).

Using civil cases and testimonies from people of African descent also indicates examples of black subjectivity. According to Bryant, slaves used the courts in political and radical ways throughout the colonial period. They used their right to bring suit while also engaging in marronage and violent resistance. When presenting their cases to the audiencia, slaves quickly learned how to perform within what was European-derived and European-ordered spectacle to achieve their goals (232). One fascinating case from 1675 involved the free black, Adan Pardo, who defended his family honor after the alcalde ordinario of Cali forced his children to serve him (235). Thus, notions of family honor were also used by people of African descent in the colony. Or another case, from 1690, of a free black suing for the freedom of his wife, Phelipa. According to Bryant, “Pedro and his wife endeavored to showcase their honorable, law-abiding behavior while highlighting the deplorable actions and disposition of Phelipa’s master” (236). This discourse of honor in lawsuits of people of African descent predated the Bourbon era and suggests some of the ways in which people of African descent thought of themselves, their family units, and their place in a society. Undoubtedly, this discourse of honor shaped the case of Juana, who sued her master who promised to free her after purchasing her. Unfortunately for Juana, her lawsuit failed to win her freedom, but gave her an opportunity to find a new owner (251). 

Thus, black subjectivity, in Bryant’s account, is one in which black historical subjects, though constricted by slavery and racialized forms of colonial governance, asserted themselves in kinship choices, marriage patterns, and civil or criminal cases against abusive slaveholders or whites who they saw they as disrespecting their sense of honor. While still acting within the confines of the larger racialized structure of colonial governance, one finds glimpses of the interior lives, thoughts, and strategies of people of African descent in colonial Quito. They displayed agency as historical agents, but also as historical subjects with a consciousness and awareness of their own vocality.

Gender & Class in Inca and Spanish Peru

Famous painting depicting St. Ignatius of Loyola's nephew and his wife from the Inca nobility, Beatriz Ñusta

Irene Silverblatt's Moon, Sun, and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial Peru is a provocative analysis of gender and class in Peru under two different imperial systems. The first, that of the Incas, drew from Andean traditions and kinship structures while "genderizing" class. The second, the more brutal Spanish colonial imposition, brought more destructive changes that included private land tenure and Christianity with a Judaeo-Christian patriarchal religious and social structure. Silverblatt's study, using chronicles, archival sources and the literature produced by Catholic missionaries and priests eager to extirpate idolatry in Peru, chronicles this development across time from Incan into colonial Peru. 

The early chapters establish the importance of gender parallels in kinship/ayllu structures, gender parallels in religion and increasingly, how the expansion of the Inca Empire promoted its own supremacy through kinship that was both gendered and class-based (yet used the discourse of kinship to mask exploitation). In its pre-imperial Inca phase, Andean gender parallelism was based on complementary principles, with gendered roles for men and women that included inheritance on female lines as well as a role for women as political and religious leaders. Inca imperial expansion, however, drew on the conquest hierarchies of ayllus as well as a gendered discourse that made conqueror ayllus or lineages "male" and the subjugated "female." The Incas, or Lords of Cuzco, drew on this plus their control of women as acllas to buttress their imperial ideology. 

In other words, that the Incas were able to expand their cult of the Sun and take women and girls from conquered provinces to later redistribute as wives (as a favor of the Inca) or as religious/ritual specialists in Inca imperial religion as part of their imperial ideology and class system. Through the control of the Cuzco elite of women's sexuality (by demanding virgin acllas or the privilege of the Inca to give them as wives to relatives, subordinates and vassals) and labor, class was heavily gendered. However, in spite of the gendered dimensions of Inca imperial ideology and expansion, women exhibited power in a number of ways. As mentioned previously, they could exert authority as religious leaders and political leaders at a local level. The Inca Queen, too, possessed power of her own that complemented that of the male Inca ruler. Nonetheless, the Inca imperial structure favored males as conquerors and their subjects as "conquered women" in the empire. This gendered dimensions is also clear due to the fact that Inca elites and favored subjects could possess multiple wives but the Inca Queen and female nobility were still restricted to a single husband. 

The chapters on women under colonial rule are a bit more interesting, although one wonders if relying too heavily on Guaman Poma may slightly distort the conditions in the colony. This is not to dispute the generally correct view of Guaman Poma of colonialism's negative impact on indigenous peoples in Peru, but rather to call to attention the class position of indigenous chroniclers like Guaman Poma who also profited from or exploited the conditions created by the Spanish conquest to enrich themselves. Either way, we can assume peasant women and poor Indian women were exploited in every way to a degree inconceivable in Incan or pre-Columbian times. As detailed by Silverblatt, this included forced labor, rape, taxation/tribute burdens, accusations of witchcraft, and the loss of political rights to own or bequeath land or exercise political leadership. Indigenous women of the elite, of course, were less disadvantaged by Spanish rule yet still faced drastic changes that limited their autonomy. This is expanded upon in subsequent chapters on witchcraft and Andean pre-Christian religion. Throughout the book, Silverblatt had already made reference to the role of women in religion and spirituality and how that position was undermined or came under attack from the Spanish colonial system and Church. 

The voluminous corpus of written sources on the attempt by the Jesuits to eradicate indigenous religions in the Andes, however, provides another perspective on the experience of indigenous women under colonial rule, however. One learns that women who fled to the puna to avoid the Church and/or Spaniards, for instance, played a key role in the survival of indigenous beliefs and culture since they were less "corrupted" than Indian men who were more likely to serve as curacas or be incorporated into the colonial administration as intermediaries. Women likewise resisted colonial rule and the Church through continued ritual practices that were outlawed or persecuted by the Church. Many women also continued to take their surnames from their mothers or bequeath land to female children, even if forced to act via male "tutors" the colonial regime expected. There is even a remarkable episode of women continuing Andean practices of confession that incorporated the quipu! Undoubtedly, much of the survival of indigenous religion, worldview and culture in the Andes can be attributed to the role of peasant women who upheld pre-Hispanic values and traditions against the utter destruction wrought by the Spanish conquest and colonial system.

Black Indians For Sale

Again, perusing the colonial newspaper of Saint Domingue can reveal some surprises. For instance, in 1786, when the Chevalier de Valmont announced he was departing for Europe, several "Black Indians" were put up for sale. Since other cases of "Black Indians" turned out to be Asian Indians, we suspect these domestics were similarly from India.

Descourtilz and the Africans in Saint Domingue

Source

The third tome of Michel Etienne Descourtilz's Voyages d'un naturaliste: et ses observations includes a fascinating essay entitled Essai sur les mœurs et coutumes des habitants de Guinée à Saint-Domingue. One of the few detailed accounts of African "nations" in the colony based on interviews and observations, Descourtilz's brief essay provides information and impressions on about 18 African "nations" in colonial Haiti, concluding with a longer chapter on Creoles which contrasts the natural simplicity of the Africans with Creole immorality. Sadly, some of the chapters are far too brief, while other chapters cover "nations" which are obscure or very difficult to identify. He also gathered his data from Africans and Creoles interrogated or observed in the area of Saint-Marc and Artibonite Valley, aided by an unnamed domestic presumably enlisted to make the Africans more comfortable. Of course, this means the Africans he wrote about may not have present in large numbers in other parts of the colony. Nonetheless, Descourtilz provides some of the few detailed descriptions of Mozambiques, Borno ("Beurnon"), and Fulanis (Islamic nomadic ones) in the colony. To our knowledge, Descourtilz was also the only one to write about the Dunkos, a group likely hailing from what is today northern Ghana. 

In the first chapter, on the Dunkos and Aradas, Descourtilz wrote admiringly of their features. Scarification is big, but the infamous practice of poisoning among the Arada occupies a large section of the chapter. One particularly infamous case involved an elderly Arada woman said to have killed 70 infants to prevent them from growing up as slaves in the colony! Then, Descourtilz wrote about the "Arada" king subject to ritual seclusion and customs, before a brief description of Arada religion. Noting the power of their priests, they also adored a variety of beings or Gods, including the Moon, water, and serpents. It is a little unclear who exactly these "Arada" were. Presumably they were not natives of the Porto-Novo kingdom of Arada, and like the Dunkos, represented a composite group. The "Dahomet" nation, however, appear to have been subjects of the Dahomey kingdom. Descourtilz's description fo the burial of Dahomey's kings and the sacrifice of captives seems to be accurate or at least partly based on reliable accounts. 

Fida Africans, the subject of the next chapter, presumably came from Ouidah (or were sold via Ouidah). Commenting negatively on their physical features, Descourtilz has little to say about them. Following Fida are the Essa blacks. Essa, a "nation" or ethnicity we could not identify, were known for worshipping their previous kings. They also embalmed the corpses of deceased and placed the bodies on a throne. Likewise, the Urba "nation" are difficult to identify. According to Descourtilz, they possessed a god named Brataoth. Their king was surrounded by magicians whose arbitrary judgements sometimes caused the unjust punishment of soldiers. Human sacrifice was also practiced after military defeat. However, at least one king of Urba converted to Christianity after speaking with a missionary, miraculously recovering from a a malady. This would imply Urba was probably located closer to the coast. 

Other nations are mentioned for their religious and theological views. For instance, the belief in the transmigration of souls was attributed to the Aminas and Ibos. A particularly depressing case of an Amina mother on the Desdunes plantation was said to have killed herself and her 2 sons out of a belief that after death, they would return to their country of origin. Naturally, due to his own political and racial biases, Descourtilz also praised Monsieur Desdunes as a benevolent master who treated his slaves like a father treats his children. In contrast with the horrifying suicides trigged by enslavement, Descourtilz also shared the positive story of a reunion of 2 Ibo lovers owned by M. Pelerin of Cayes Saint-Louis. Unfortunately, despite reproducing a song attributed to these two, Aza and Evahim, Descourtilz changed the melody. But it is still worthy of attention for its Creole lyrics, even if one would expect Aza and Evahim to have communicated in their Igbo lover when reunited across the Atlantic. 

Although we have discussed Descourtilz's chapter on Bornoans in Saint Domingue, they are worth mention again. A number of customs, practices, religious zeal, and gender relations are subjects of importance here. For instance, Descourtilz viewed Borno Africans as a nation in which women were submitted to men. This is interesting, given the high divorce rates among the Kanuri in the 20th century (which was probably the case in the 1800s and possibly the 1700s, too). One wonders if Descourtilz mainly or only had access to male informants from Borno, which may have exaggerated the degree to which women were subjugated. Nonetheless, it was clear that Islam was very influential in social relations and the attachment to books, prayer, and social conduct. No other Islamic nation were mentioned in Descourtilz's essay besides the Fulani. What is so confusing about this account of Borno is that a long anecdote about a corrupt African prince who killed a child for recreation and went unpunished, triggered a conflict with a pagan ruler that resulted in many of his "nation" being sold into slavery. Several of them ended up in Saint-Domingue, where the Rossignol-Desdunes plantation received many. If this prince was a Sayfawa maiwa, it would be interesting if any traditions or written sources can attest to his corrupt, violent behavior. This would match the sense in some sources that Borno in the 18th century had become corrupt and the Sayfawa were less able to control vassal chiefs and rulers. Also, assuming it is true, the Sayfawa rulers testing the morality of their subjects by leaving items in public spaces and using spies to capture any thieves for sale as slaves (plus their families) is an extreme measure. 

Surprisingly, 3 Gold Coast "nations" (Acra, Crepeens, Asante) are discussed separately from the Dunkos, who one would expect to have been somewhat more similar to them. Descourtilz praises their fishing talents while accurately acknowledging that they believed in a distant, Supreme Being. Because this Supreme Being is too distant, they worship a number of "fetishes" like the snake, or heron. Their prodigious memory similarly impressed Descourtilz, who noted they could easily refer to events or circumstances from long ago with surprising exactness. Unfortunately, for some of these nations and the subsequent chapters, the "nations" are either too ambiguous to identify or, in the case of the Congos, shockingly incomplete. For example, the Diabon were said to have sacrified strangers to their gods. For the Congos, we learn little. 

In the final chapters, on Vodou and Creoles, one sees the most detailed accounts of black culture in the colony. Relying in part on the testimony of an educated black woman named Finette, Descourtilz expresses familiarity with the Arada origin of the word, Vodou, as well as the Dom Pedre (Petro). Despite spilling much ink on the superstitions of the blacks and their beliefs in sorcery or the power of their idols, he draws from examples of cases of people falling ill after disputes with Vodou priests. Indeed, according to his source, Finette, Tousaint Louverture himself consulted a Vodou priest specializing in divination. According to this oracle, Tousaint was warned that his first chief, Dessalines, was to later betray him to the French. Vodou ritual leaders are even accused of abusing their power to receive extra food during a famine in the Artibonite region in 1803, using religion as a pretext to demand additional offerings that they consumed themselves or later sold. But it is in the ultimate chapter where one suspects Descourtilz's political and racial biases most mislead him. Creoles, according to him, suffered from feelings of enmity toward whites, were lazy, immoral, and cruel. Indeed, a particularly egregious case of a man who rejected his own mother led to Descourtilz writing to Toussaint Louverture to have the arrogant man punished for abandoning her. Even black mid-wives and medical practitioners were dismissed as ignorant and dangerous. In addition, Creoles did not raise their children properly, spoiling them in their youth so they were ill-prepared for their future life in the colony. If it isn't clear already, Descourtilz's own sentiments about the Haitian Revolution shaped his writings about the Creoles. 

Cemí and Religion

Photo of a three-pointer cemi from Hispaniola in the Dominican National Archives. 

It looks like Jose Oliver was probably correct about the etymology of the word cemí. Rendered as chemíjn, chemijn in Breton's dictionary as the equivalent of God, the Kalinago word is undoubtedly related to the Taino cemí. Intriguingly, the word for sweet in Arawak is seme. Sweetness is translated as semehi while to cure is semechihi. A shaman is called semeti, a name whose use has been attested since the mid-16th century in Rodrigo de Navarrete's account of the Aruacas. As noted by scholars like Oliver and Goeje, a possible link to the word for sweet is very plausible in this case. 

However, we had not found a similar word for "sweet" in Kalinago or Taino to match the seme of Arawak or Lokono. Looking to Garifuna provided a possible clue. In that language, the word for tasty or delicious is semeti. Sweet is actually bimeti, which can be found in Breton's 17th century dictionary. However, the concept of sweetness definitely overlaps with that of tasty or delicious. Thus, it is possible that the word for "God" or spirits associated with positive attributes may derive from a word linked to tasty or delicious. We cannot say for sure what the Taino word for sweet or tasty was, but it was likely similar.

Looking to Taino words or concepts related to spirits and gods in the context of other South American languages is also worthwhile. For instance, goeiz as the equivalent of soul of a living person, does not have a close cognate in the other Arawakan languages or neighboring languages we consulted dictionaries for. However, Rodrido de Navarrete's account uses the word Gaguche, for souls. Ga may have signified great, and guche, soul. Perhaps a sense of this can be seen in yawahu, an Arawak word for Spirit in Bennett's dictionary? Intriguingly, Taino's word for the spirits of the dead, or hupia, has a close match in Kalinago or Island Carib's oupoyem or opoyem. In Wayuu, Spirit is aa'in while a phantom of spirit could also be called ayolojo or ayaluju. A demon or devil is yolujaa, which might be related to hupia. Garifuna uses afurugu for Spirit and mafia for devil, or fiend. Soul is uwani and ghost is ufioun. 

Palikur, on the other hand, uses uhokri and giwohkiga for God. A demon is wavitye which isn't particularly close to hupia. Surprisingly, one of the Palikur terms for God may be etymologically related to one of the Taino terms for God, Guamiquina (Great Lord, or God). This is quite different from the Hubuiri for the Great Lord in the Sky recorded by Navarrete in the 1500s for the Arawak. Indeed, we also wonder if the Palikur uhokri is also related to a part in Yucahu's full name, Yúcahu Bagua Maórocoti. Is the Maórocoti perhaps similar to uhokri, with the ma negating the rest? In Arawak, one term for God is wa-malhita-koanathi. This refers to God in the sense of our collective Father or begetter, while in Palikur, nahawkrivwi, refers to our grandparents. Perhaps the last part of Yucahu's full name really does refer to him as lacking a creator, since Yocahu was the first principle or Creator.

Foullani

While we are not usually listeners of Gnawa music, "Foullani" is quite enchanting. Very repetitive lyrics also trance-inducing with the deep sounds of the stringed instrument (guimbri?). A shorter but still hypnotic rendition can be heard here.