Fig Leaf Rag

Nothing beats the elegant, stately ragtime of Scott Joplin. He manages to be a savant without the lifeless quality in some of his fellow Classic Ragtime composers (James Scott and Joseph Lamb).

Kanem and the East?

 I have become obsessed with the question of east-west trade and cultural contacts in Sudanic Africa. After all, why wouldn't there have been contact of some sort between Nubia and the lands further west, especially in the Darfur, Kordofan, and Chad regions? From what I can tell, the most fervent proponent of theories connecting ancient Nubian civilizations with lands to the west was Arkell, who relied on inconclusive evidence and problematic assumptions. Sure, there may have been pottery at Chad sites that kind of resembles Meroitic pottery, but until archaeologists uncover more evidence (like obviously Meroitic or Christian Nubian items), the theory of east-west contacts and diffusion remains uncertain. Certainly, the eventual deciphering of the Meroitic language might reveal something about the nature of the Middle Nile's contacts with peoples to the west, just as additional excavations in Darfur and the Kordofan could reveal new connections.

How about after the fall of Meroe, particularly during the period of Christian kingdoms in Nubia? While Nubian and local Kanem-Borno sources seem to indicate no connections, a perusal of Vantini's collection of  Oriental Sources Concerning Nubia do suggest possible trade and conflicts between Christian Nubia and the lands to their west. Unfortunately, most of the Arabic sources on Kanem, and all the lands between Lake Chad and the Nile are confused, ambiguous, or contradictory. It does not help that Kanem's origins, apparently first ruled by "Zaghawa" peoples, are not very detailed in the various 8th-11th century sources. Early Arabic sources mentioning the "Zaghawa" and Kanem associate the two, although Kanem was already identified as multiethnic and consisting of agriculturalists and pastoralists. Early sources point to the lack of towns until the 900s, when Manan and perhaps Tarazaki are mentioned as "Kanem" or "Zaghawa" towns. It is described as a vast kingdom, in between Gao to the west and the lands of the Nuba (Nubians) to the east. By the 1100s, the "Zaghawa" are separated from Kanem by al-Idrisi, who suggests the Zaghawa now ruled a kingdom between Kanem and Nubia. In al-Idrisi's confusing account, the Zaghawa and another population (Tajuwa) are described as bordering Nubia, and al-Idrisi mentions a Nubian attack on a town of the Tajuwa people. His brief account also suggests the "Zaghawa" vassal state of Kanem produced handicrafts and included several well-populated villages. Other sources preceding al-Idrisi claimed the Zaghawa were fighting the Nubians (al-Masudi). 

If true, this indicates that the western extent of the Nubian states may have reached the Darfur area and the Kordofan. There may have been an interest on the part of Nubian states to pursue western trade routes that might have connected them to Kanem and, perhaps, the Maghreb. The Arabic sources on Kanem from the 8th-13th century point to stronger trade ties with lands to their north (through the Kawar and Fezzan, with Ibadite Berbers) than their east, though they are also somewhat vague about the rise of trade networks, towns, and possible regional trade. Furthermore, it is possible Arabic sources would not mention Nubian trade with the Zaghawa and Kanem if their trade routes were rarely traversed by North Africans or Arabs. Yet cryptic references to "black" Christians in the lands between Kanem and Nubia also suggest possible ties to Nubia, although the "Bakarmi" Christians may have been descendants of a group converted to Christianity around the same time as the Garamantes in the 6th century. Furthermore, the Bakarmi are described as being Muslim if residing by Kanem, pagan if neighboring the Zaghawa, and Christian when bordering Nubia, suggesting that they were a population under various influences from their western and eastern neighbors.

The best early source on the full extent of Kanem can be found in the 13th century account of Ibn Said al-Andalusi. He relies on the work of a Ibn Fatima who visited Kanem during the reign of Dunama, an expansionist king seen as promoting Islam and expanding the power of Kanem. If Ibn Said's account is accurate, Kanem possessed several towns around Lake Chad, dominated the Kawar oasis (the Diwan of Kanem mentions previous Kanem kings sending slave colonies to the region in the 1000s, perhaps to exploit salt mining?), and the king even possessed gardens near the capital, Njimi, with sugarcane plantations. He is described as ruling over various Saharan and Sahelian regions, including Berber subjects who were slaves of the king. Of course, by the 13th century, the kings of Kanem had been Muslim for generations, even predating the Sefuwa dynasty which replaced the "Duguwa" ("Zaghawa") rulers of early Kanem. Arabic accounts suggest a great degree of continuity in kingship, particularly in the "divine" powers or attributes of the mais of Kanem. Such "divine" features of Kanem kingship carried on well into the Bornu successor state/empire, too. If one were a diffusionist, one could try to attribute this to the influence of Meroe and ancient Nubia in the Chad region. Of course, there is no evidence for that, and the earliest date one could claim for Kanem's foundation would probably be the 7th century, centuries after the fall of Meroe. It is unlikely that "Zaghawa" and Teda or Tubu nomads in the Libyan Sahara or Chad region were connected to Meroe, but Ibn Said does claim the kings of Kanem migrated from the Nile. One must read that with caution, however, as medieval Islamic geographers connected the Nile to the Niger in West Africa, believing it ran from the Senegal and Niger rivers through Kanem before reaching Nubia and Egypt.

Based on the 13th century description of Kanem, it is clear the empire had already achieved some degree of a strong regional economy with control of Saharan salt deposits, southern Saharan trade routes, and a strong agricultural base in the lands to the south. They also had "pagan" enemies on the southern shores of Lake Chad and other lands to raid for spoils and captives to trade to their northern (and eastern?) partners. They were clearly trading with North Africa and Egypt, so why not Nubia? Trade routes through the east, particularly if the "Zaghawa" were still subjects, would have provided access to goods from Egypt, the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean. The east could have also provided horses, luxury goods, glassware, textiles, precious stones, and cowries, the last being used as currency in Kanem by the 1300s. If the east-west trade routes could be secured in the lands between Kanem and Nubia, and prices were lower than paying for the added costs of distribution across the Sahara, why not pursue that? I suppose the importance Kanem attached to northern expansion into the Sahara during the 1200s suggests that was a likely focus of their monarchs, but an eastern trade route would have been a wise pursuit to have alternative access to Egyptian, Indian, Middle Eastern, and Asian commodities.

So, what would Nubia have received in return from trade with Kanem and lands to their west and southwest? It seems historians still have much work to do to uncover the nature of trade in medieval Nubia, making it difficult to come to any clear idea. However, Arabic sources point to large towns and trading centers connecting Nubia with Ethiopia, Egypt, the Beja (between Nubia and the Red Sea ports of Aydhab and Suakin) and lands to their west. There may have been a trade route connecting Alwa to trans-Saharan trade with the Maghreb, too. Enigmatic references to monasteries, Nubian settlements west of the Nile, and subject peoples (highlanders) in lands further west suggest the Christian states of Makuria and Alwa may have bordered the "Zaghawa" at various moments. Conflicts probably arose, but it is possible the Zaghawa may have seen an opportunity to engage in trade, perhaps exchanging captives, ivory, or even goods from the Maghreb for Nubian textiles, ceramics, foodstuffs, or Asian products. 

Kanem and its affiliated tributary regions could have provided some of the slaves that the Nubian states were allegedly dependent on for trade with Egypt and the Red Sea. Muslims may have played a role as intermediaries, especially so if they had their own quarter at Soba, the capital of Alwa. Nubia may have also exported some of its architectural traditions further west, perhaps diffusing the fired-brick technology to royal towns of Kanem before the rise of the successor Borno state. Kanem would have also had contacts with Nubia through Egypt, and it is uncertain if religious differences would have made Nubia an unattractive trading partner. If anything, trade between the two spheres of influence would have connected trade routes across Sudanic Africa, and perhaps promote Kanem's central position's advantage as a source of goods acquired from the trans-Saharan trade and Asian or Middle Eastern products entering the continent from East Africa or the Red Sea. Nubia, if trade relations with the Arabs, Egyptians, Beja, and Ethiopians were harmonious (sometimes Nubians raided Beja settlements, so relations were not invariably positive), would have been a great position to connect via the Nile and overland routes, to their western neighbors. Kanem would benefit by having two trade routes leading to Asian, European, and North African commodities and manufactured products. The other question is, who arranged and managed this trade? The kings of Kanem and Nubia? Muslim merchants? Evidence from Borno by the 1500s would suggest trade routes and caravans connected it to Darfur, Sennar, and the Red Sea, but by then most of the traders would have been Muslims.

Without additional archaeological work, this remains speculative. But it might explain a facet of relations across Sudanic Africa that possibly predates or coexisted with trans-Saharan trade relations. It also begs the question of intra-Sudanic relations, cultural exchange, architectural influences, The paucity of written sources from Kanem or Borno on their relationship with the lands to their east complicates the matter. Arabic sources on early Kanem do not reveal much and only hint at conflict or contact with Christian Nubia. They also give the impression that Kanem was less wealthy and important than Gao, Ghana, and Mali. However, if there was an east-west trade route that largely excluded North Africans, they might not have been aware of its magnitude and possible impact on the 'Central Sudan.' This might have contributed to the exponential growth of Kanem in the 13th and 14th centuries, as access to Eastern goods via Nubia could have provided Kanem with trading parters to their west and south, as well as another source of horses for their important cavalry. Perhaps in the near future historians and archaeologists will uncover more evidence of these aforementioned forms of intra-African trade. It might explain pre-Islamic Mediterranean or Egyptian goods found in West Africa, as well as the use of cowrie shells from the Indian Ocean as currency in Kanem and its western neighbors. 

Asian Indians in Saint Domingue: An Early Indo-Caribbean Population

While researching the presence of indigenous peoples of the Americas in Saint Domingue, in an attempt to come to some kind of historical understanding of the relationship between "Amerindian" peoples and Haiti, one comes across numerous references to Asian Indians in the sources. Although their numbers must have been even tinier than those of free and enslaved indigenous peoples in the French colony, attempting to enumerate and study their presence in Saint Domingue highlights the global dimensions of French Empire in the 18th century. Moreover, the "East Indian" slaves and free people of color also push back the origins of the Indo-Caribbean, placing them deeper into the historical panorama of the region. This post will attempt a brief look at this minority of the captive population to see what it reveals about the nature of Saint Domingue, its heterogeneous enslaved population, and the global networks in the crown jewel of 18th century French colonialism.

Some of the best evidence for East Indian captives in Saint Domingue are newspaper advertisements for goods from ships arriving from India. Like the above, le Confiant, appearing in Affiches Americaines, East Indian slaves were probably small in number and part of a mixed cargo of various textiles, teas and goods from the East. In this case, about 40 "beaux" blacks are part of the goods for sale. It is possible some of the French ships coming from India stopped in the Mascarenes, Mozambique or Madagascar to pick up slaves or resupply before crossing the Atlantic. However, the easiest explanation is that the 40 captives on the Confiant were from India, presumably purchased in or near the French comtpoirs on the Indian coast. Indians were also sold or kidnapped from territories under English East India Company rule and put on French or Dutch ships.

First, one must begin with the origins of East Indian slaves. There is evidence that the Portuguese were already selling slaves from Goa and other regions of the subcontinent as early as the 16th century. Europeans were also bringing African or Asian slaves to serve in cities like Portuguese Goa, while also purchasing local Indians who were either sold by their families during times of famine or crisis or kidnapped by greedy local merchants. Relatively early on, Asian captives found their way to Europe and, likely, the Americas. Indeed, according to the work of Forbes, Asian Indian captives were present in Seville, Lisbon and other parts of the Iberian peninsula, alongside West African, North African, indigenous peoples from the Americas and Canary Islanders. The Dutch were also engaged in the slave trade in the East Indies, importing a large number of slaves from the coasts of India to the Cape Colony.

Runaway slave ad for a Creole Indian barber named Aly. It's very possible that Aly was not of East Indian origin, but his occupation and name may be more likely references to Asian Indians. Some Asian Indian slaves were Muslims, like the Lascars. If Aly was his chosen name then he may have been a Lascar. The fact that he is identified as being born in the colony demonstrates Asian Indian captives lived long enough to reproduce.

  

By the time the French were engaging in Indian slave trading in the 18th century, captives were purchased or kidnapped (probably both) from Bengal, Coromandel, Malabar, and sold to ships at the various French comptoirs on the coast. A few of their captives came from other parts of the subcontinent, like Goa. According to various sources, 18th century Bengal suffered from slave trading, but Malabar and Coromandel were also active ports. Bengal was particularly associated with the sale of children, often exported on Dutch and French ships. Megan Vaughan's work on Mauritius tells us Indian slaves were Lascars, Topas, Malabar, Bengali, Talinga, but there were likely other groups represented. While the French East Indian Company was primarily interested in purchasing Indian textiles and other goods, which were also sold in Africa (for more slaves) and in France and its colonies, Indian peoples were up for sale. The total numbers of Indian slaves carried on French ships was surely quite small, as the captives must have usually been part of a mixed cargo consisting of various commodities. For a reliable estimate on the estimated number of Indian captives brought by the French to their colonies in the Mascarenes, between 1670-1810, historian Richard B. Allen suggests 21,000. Not counted in that estimate is the number of free Indian artisans and sailors who went to Mauritius voluntarily, as Indian artisans were prized a a cheaper source of labor in the than European "skilled labor." By the time of the Haitian Revolution, the French slave trade in India was interrupted by war with Britain that ended large-scale slave trading from that region. Therefore, it is likely that most Indians in Saint Domingue had arrived by the early 1790s.

Runaway slave ad for Charlot, a "natif des grandes Indes." Charlot's origins in India and status as a carpenter further suggest a connection of Asian Indian captives with trades or "skilled occupations" in Saint Domingue and other French colonies.

Of course, 21,000 is a tiny number compared to the much larger quantities of captives from Africa (Mozambique, East Africa, Madagascar, and, to a lesser extent, West Africa) in the Mascarenes. Yet a significant minority of the total slave population in Mauritius and Reunion were Indians. Considering the vast distances separating Saint Domingue and India, and the intra-imperial networks connecting the Mascarenes and French slave trading networks in nearby Mozambique, the total number of East Indian captives who made it to the French Caribbean was probably a small fraction of the estimated total of 21,000. This is backed up by various advertisements in Saint Domingue newspapers of the arrival of ships from India and runaway slave advertisements for Indian maroons from Mauritius and Reunion. Most of the Indians who came on ships directly from India were part of mixed a mixed cargo with small numbers of slaves, ranging in number from as low as 16 to 40. The only possible exception to this is the case of La Cibele, identified by Richard B. Allen as a slave ship that arrived in Saint Domingue in 1778. Reaching Saint Domingue from the coasts of India, with 258 men, 49 women, 57 boys and 22 girls for sale, it must have been a particularly long and hellish voyage.  One cannot help but wonder if this ship actually picked up slaves from India then stopped to resupply in the Mascarenes before acquiring more from Mozambique or East Africa. Either way, it seems to the only example of a French slave that may have carried hundreds of Indians to Saint Domingue in a single voyage.

Sometimes, runaway slave ads specifically mention places in India that make it clear said maroon was from the East Indies, like Zamor.

 

Other sources from within Saint Domingue also suggest the East Indian presence was quite small. According to Moreau de Saint-Méry's encyclopedic tome on the colony, the "Oriental Indians" were fewer than the "Western" Indians. He also used a Creole-sounding word to designate them, zingre. Their racial mixtures with Africans in the colony, "qui sont aussi infiniment rares dans la colonie," suggests not only a small population but one that, perhaps, rarely intermarried with the African majority of the enslaved population.  In addition, David Geggus's exhaustive research on plantation inventories in Saint Domingue also point to a very small "Indien" presence, less than 1% of the total captive population. In his definition of Indian were included "Amerindians" and East Indians, and Saint-Méry has already indicated that the former outnumbered the latter. Another scholar, McClellan, estimated about 500 Indians were in Saint Domingue by the late 18th century, although this could have been mostly "Amerindian" people. Unfortunately, it does not take into account the numbers of "Indians" in Saint Domingue at various moments in the late 1600s and early 1700s, which, if one counts descendants who were "reclassified" as free people of color, makes 500 probably an underestimate. 

 

Michel, a "Mulatto Indian" from what is now Mauritius, is a perfect example of the ways in which slaves from French Indian ocean colonies were sometimes transported to the Caribbean.

 

Thus, in consideration of the above sources, this blog will suggest the total number of East Indians in Saint Domingue was likely in the hundreds, perhaps no more than 500 or 600, across the 18th century. With the exception of La Cibele in 1778, when several hundred arrived, most were likely arriving in the colony as parts of the mixed cargo of ships from India. Some may have been sold or transferred from the Mascarenes on other vessels. This small-scale trade, perhaps most consistent in the period of 1770-1793, leads one to think the total numbers of East Indians must have been low. Of course, some may have arrived on ships that also acquired slaves at Mozambique or the Swahili Coast. To what extent were Asian captives from the Mascarenes part of that traffic is unknown, but likely minimal compared to the thousands of "Mozambiques" who appear in Saint Domingue during the later decades of the 18th century. Nonetheless, all the above suggests Indians were a minuscule part of the total slave population, vastly outnumbered by hundreds of thousands of West, Central, and, increasingly, East Africans.

Etienne is identified as a black Indian creole of what is now Reunion. Clearly, at least a few East Indian slaves from the Mascarenes were sold in Saint-Domingue or brought there by the French. Some, like Etienne, were singled out for speaking French.

Now that it is established that the East Indian presence was very minimal, and probably more concentrated in Saint Domingue than other French colonies in the Antilles (perhaps the greatest concentration of East Indians in the Caribbean during the 18th century?), which the runaway slave ads seem to suggest, what can one say of their presence in the colony? Since written sources alluding to them are rare, one can look to conditions of Indian enslavement in the Masacarenes for possible hints. In the Mascarene colonies, Indians were often stereotyped as more obedient and intelligent than their Malagasy and African counterparts. And it is true that Indian slaves were often employed in trades that slaves from Madagascar and Mozambique were less likely to perform. However, the stereotypes of slaves, as provided by French planters and colonial authorities, were not always based in reality. One must also account for the differences in "national" or ethnic stereotypes that various plantation societies developed about the same groups of people. Those caveats aside, it is likely that French stereotypes in Saint Domingue of "blacks" and "Indians" from the subcontinent were similar to those of their planter counterparts in the Mascarenes, or at least influenced by them. Further, if the association of Indian captives with domestic labor, added to the fact that many were children or young adults, was true for Saint Domingue as well, then Indians in Saint Domingue probably served similar functions as domestic slaves in the towns and plantation homes. Moreover, Indian captives may have also worked as sailors and in urban trades in Le Cap and other towns of Saint Domingue. Perhaps many worked as barbers, servants, cooks, fishermen, bakers, blacksmiths and assistants, if runaway slave ads are reliable indications. A few were listed as speaking French or had traveled to France, suggesting that some would have been valued as fluent speakers of the dominant language and perhaps well traveled across the French Atlantic and Indian Ocean worlds.

 

Francois, identified as an Indian from the Coromandel coast, was clearly from the subcontinent.

 

 

Unfortunately, it is difficult to say what, if any, were the relations between these and African or Creole slaves of the colony. If free, they were, in theory, entitled to the rights of whites, like those of "Amerindian" descent. Free Indians may have been quite similar to free people of African descent, but evidence from Mauritius suggests at least a partial separation of the free people of color population in Port-Louis (Camp des Malabars was an "Indian" quarter, though Indians also lived in the free black African quarter and vice versa). But scholars also point out the porous nature of borders between Indian, Malagasy and Africans in Mauritius. While some of the Indians retained their sense of identity and continued to wear clothes affiliated with their regional origins, many probably shaped or joined the burgeoning "Creole" culture of the enslaved and free "black" population of the island. For Saint Domingue, where the Indian population was far smaller, there is no evidence of a "Camp des Malabars" and they might have merged into the general slave and free people of color categories rather quickly. Those who were free may have become slaveholders themselves, if "Indien" owners identified in runaway ads were indeed Asian.

 

Jean-Louis, of the "Malabar nation" in India, is associated with a ship captain coming from Mozambique. This illustrates how French slaving in the Indian Ocean sometimes brought captives from different parts of Africa, Madagascar, and India to Saint Domingue.

Besides the evidence of a limited residential separation of the racial "castes" in Mauritius's Port-Louis, there is evidence in France itself of Indian slaves suing for their freedom on the basis of non-African origin. There may have been, by the late 18th century, a sense among some Indians and Europeans that enslavement was only to be associated with those bearing the "indelible stain" of African ancestry.  This was the case with "Amerindian" peoples, who were supposed to be given the rights of whites and be exempt from racial prejudice. Therefore, Indians, despite their dark skin, were not to be associated with Africans and should be emancipated or enjoy the rights of whites. This development is tied to the growth of racial ideology \ might have appealed to Indians living in the Mascarenes and Saint Domingue as grounds for their freedom and claims to the rights and privileges of the white population. Increasingly discriminatory laws against free people of color in Saint Domingue may have also pressured those of "Indien" origin to distinguish themselves from African-descended people. It certainly led to some free people of color in Saint Domingue claiming Indian descent in response to discriminatory laws. Of course, the remaining question is to what extent were Indians, of the occidental and oriental types, actually receiving the rights and privileges of whites? Those who were "unmixed" with Africans may have had an easier time attaining the aforementioned privileges, but free people of color who claimed "Indien" origin (in this case, almost always "Amerindian") were refused patents recognizing that heritage. What were things actually like for people of East Indian origin remains to be seen. If the example of Mauritius gives any indication, some may have been able to become landowners like other free people of color. 

Some of the runaway slaves who found their way to Saint Domingue embodied all the vast influences, cultures, and imperial rivalries of the Indian Ocean. This example, of a black cook and baker, a "Creole of Goa," is mentioned as someone who not only speaks French, Portuguese, and English, but nearly all the languages of Africa's eastern littoral. This means this "Creole of Goa" may have been of African origin, and probably spoke Swahili. A perfect example of the complex inter-imperial slave trade networks that connected India and Africa via Portuguese and French trade in the Indian Ocean.

So, what became of Asian Indians in Saint Domingue during and after the Haitian Revolution? Runaway slave ads before and during the early 1790s attest to their presence. One would think most merged into the general population, and were given the same rights as other citizens. In fact, the case of Benjamin Fruneau, according to Madiou, who came to Haiti after independence, indicates Haiti's willingness to grant citizenship rights to people of Indian descent included Asians. But during the course of the Haitian revolution, some East Indian captives from Saint Domingue were brought to the US by their fleeing French owners. Runaway slave advertisements from Virginia in the 1790s reference an East Indian who may have been trying to return to Saint Domingue. The case of Crispin, who was in brought to Philadelphia in 1791, answers some of our questions. Crispin, on the run in Virginia, was allegedly waiting for passage to Saint Domingue, where, in 1794, slavery was abolished. That he wished to return to the island indicates his wish to live as an emancipated person, and put his hopes in a free Saint Domingue.

Twenty Dollars Reward. Run away from his Master in the City of Philadelphia, on Saturday the 15th of November last, a kind of Mulatto East-India Boy named CRISPIN, about 16 years old, 5 feet 4 inches high, slender built; he has been in the city for about 3 years speaks French and broken English; has straight black hair, which he sometimes ties; well made and walks upright; had on when he went away an almost new black hat, new short Jacket, and a pair of French fashioned trousers with feet to them, made of grey coating with plated buttons, white shirt, French neck handkerchief, and an almost new pair of shoes tied with ribbon, and wears sometime a National Cockade. There is reason to believe he has been brought into the state by a Frenchman, and is at present somewhere in or about Williamsburg or Norfolk waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. Whoever will secure the said boy in jail of this state so that his Master may get him again, shall have the above reward of twenty Dollars paid by the Printer of this Paper, with reasonable charges.--Norfolk, Dec. 9, 1794.

In some rare cases, East Indian captives owned by the French were brought to the US. In Norfolk, Virginia, a Frenchman posted an ad for his runaway "East India mulatto" boy, Crispin, who is identified as waiting for a passage to St. Domingo. 

 

 

 As for other East Indians from Saint Domingue, the case of African American John Pierre Burr's mother demonstrates the East Indian/Saint Domingue presence in Philadelphia's free black population. Burr's sister would later join the Haitian emigration movement in the 1820s, perhaps remembering their mother's Saint Domingue roots. Jack Forbes also mentioned, in passing, a family of East Indian and white origin from Saint Domingue living in South Carolina in 1817. Thus, 'mixed-race' Saint Domingue and Haitian families of Indian origin were found among the Saint Domingue diaspora in the US, and may have returned to Haiti during the 1820s and other periods. Similar families almost surely existed in post-1804 Haiti, but tracking them after the colonial period is difficult. Considering their small numbers and younger profile, one would assume they rather quickly merged into the general population. Those who were free before the Haitian Revolution may have married into similar families, and perhaps would have been met by Benjamin Fruneau in France and Haiti. While Madiou's account of Fruneau's origins suggest he heard about Haiti while living in Europe, it is possible he was already familiar with Saint Domingue as an important French colony where Asian Indians were present. This is pure speculation, but possible, given the circulation of people and goods between the two corners of the French colonial world. 

 

An advertisement for more goods for sale brought by La Parfait-Union. Included among its merchandise were 16 "beaux" Negroes, one of whom was a cook. This is another example of the fact that French ships coming from India included slaves in the cargo, albeit at much lower numbers than those coming directly from Africa. 

Since there are limitations to the sources used here, and a reliance on argument by analogy with regards to the Mascarenes, this post barely scratches the surface of a topic germane to the history of Indo-Caribbean peoples. While focusing on the territory with no known association with Indian immigration in the 19th and 20th centuries, baring a few exemptions (Dadlani from Jamaica, Fruneau from Mauritius/France), this post attempted to uncover and, in a limited way, analyze the presence of Indian slaves in the most important plantation colony of the 18th century.  While East Indians were in the Americas in the 16th century, and appear in various colonies and territories of the Caribbean-region during the colonial period, this blog post attempted to highlight those of Saint Domingue, postulating a perhaps greater number of them in this particular colony. The presence of East Indian slaves in the Caribbean may also yield insights into the nature of indentured Indian worker programs in the 19th and 20th centuries, demonstrating the long association of Indian people with coercive labor in parts of the Indian Ocean World and the Caribbean. Their presence also points to the interlocking nature of French colonialism and trade in the 18th century. For instance, French ships carried Indian textiles (and captives) for consumers in France and Africa (for additional slaves), and Indian textiles were key to clothing enslaved subjects in the Caribbean. The presence of actual Indian slaves in Saint Domingue adds another dimension to this, with intercontinental trade, migration, and coercive labor systems joining together European encroachment and hegemony in the two Indies.

Bibliography

Allen, Richard Blair. European Slave Trading in the Indian Ocean, 1500-1850. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press, 2014. 

 

----"Suppressing a Nefarious Traffic: Britain and the Abolition of Slave Trading in India and the Western Indian Ocean, 1770-1830." The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, 66, no. 4 (2009): 873-94. Accessed November 1, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40467545.

 

Carter, Marina. 'Slavery and Unfree Labour in the Indian Ocean,' History Compass, 4:5 (2006): 800–813.

 

Filliot, Jean-Michel. La Traite Des Esclaves Vers Les Mascareignes Au XVIIIe Siècle. Paris: ORSTOM, 1974.

Garrigus, John D. Before Haiti: Race and Citizenship in French Saint-Domingue. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

 

Geggus, David. "The Naming Of Haiti." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 71, no. 1/2 (1997): 43-68. Accessed November 4, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41849817.

 

Hooper, Jane & David Eltis."The Indian Ocean in Transatlantic Slavery." Slavery & Abolition, 34 no. 3 (2013): 353-375.

Major, Andrea. Slavery, Abolitionism and Empire in India, 1772-1843. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2012.

McClellan, James E. (James Edward). Colonialism and Science: Saint Domingue in the Old Regime. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992. 

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.

Shell, Robert Carl-Heinz. Children of Bondage: A Social History of the Slave Society At the Cape of Good Hope, 1652-1838. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1994.

Vaughan, Megan. Creating the Creole Island: Slavery in Eighteenth-century Mauritius. Durham: Duke University Press, 2005. 

 

---. "Slavery and Colonial Identity in Eighteenth-Century Mauritius." Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 8 (1998): 189-214. Accessed November 4, 2020. doi:10.2307/3679294.

Medieval Nubia

I am developing a greater interest in medieval Nubia these days. It's a fascinating region where, for nearly 1000 years, Christian kingdoms thrived along the Sudanese Nile Valley. They left behind beautiful works of art, ceramics, churches, old cities, written records, and were one of the few civilizations in Africa where Christianity thrived after the Muslim conquests of North Africa. Indeed, Nubia seems a sibling of sorts to Coptic Egypt and Christian Ethiopia. Unfortunately, we know too little about Christian Nubia, despite the plethora of legal documents, land scales, religious literature, and external accounts of Nubia. Indeed, after going through several translations of Arabic and other sources on Nubia from the 6th century to the 16th, one is left with even more questions. For instance, what was the relationship of the Christian Nubian states to their neighbors further west, south, and east? What was the nature of town life like along the Nile, particularly in the cities Arab sources depicted as being large or attracting people from all over the "land of the Blacks" (Africa)? So many answers to these questions will have to be answered by archaeologists who, God willing, may be able to continue to excavate sites associated with Alwa.

Empire du Ghana Speculations

 

Sometimes Youtube can be useful. Like in this case, where this young lady's basic overview of the ancient kingdom (empire) of Ghana indicates someone who actually did their research. I have spent much of the last 48 hours going over secondary sources on this kingdom, the Soninke people, and English or French translations of Arabic sources on the history of the region. Even with advances in West African archaeology in Mali, Mauritania and nearby regions, I am amazed by how little we still know about Ghana (or, Wagadu), at least for eras prior to the rise of Islam. Can one really trace the origins of the state to agropastoralist stone masonry villages in Dhar Tichitt and related Mauritanian sites? There does seem to be evidence that some Mande groups once lived further north before the progress of the desert. Further, the evidence of Ghana itself, although more archaeological work remains to be done in the Awkar and nearby regions, do suggest a plausible origin sometime from the 4th to 6th centuries. Either way, by the time of the 8th century, Ghana was probably already the main source of gold for Sijilmasa, and the institutions associated with such a trade would not have appeared overnight.

But when going through the Arabic sources, one does arrive at some interesting theories of Ghana's origins. When used carefully with oral sources, they provide a picture of sorts of Soninke origins. The Timbuktu chronicles like Tarikh al-Fattash and its other Timbuktu counterpart suggest Ghana's existence predated Islam by at least a few centuries, and they attribute the origins of the kayamaga dynasty to "white" origin. This may reflect the fact that a 12th century king of Ghana, according to al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the family of the Prophet Muhammad. Or, it could indicate some degree of ancient intermarriage between Berbers and proto-Soninke peoples in the ancient past. Intriguingly, in the 11th century, al-Bakri mentioned at least two groups of "whites" living under the suzerainty of Ghana who were described as following their religion ("idolatry"). In one case, the "El Honeihim" whites were sent to the "land of the blacks" sometime after the Arab conquests in the Maghreb, but its possible the other group, identified as El Faman, may have been established in the region before. In addition to "whites" described as residing in the "Sudan," the Soninke kingdom of Ghana appears to have dominated the predominantly Berber and Arab trading entrepot of Awdaghust for some time in the 10th and 11th centuries, revealing the interest of Ghana in controlling the Saharan and Sahelian networks in trade to Sijilmasa and other parts of the Maghreb. If al-Bakri is to be trusted, the Berber and Arab residents of Awdaghust did not get along, so the representative of Ghana may have served as an intermediary between Berber, Arab and "Sudanese" residents in that bustling commercial town.

Clearly, there were "whites" (presumably Berbers) who were assimilated into local West African cultures, albeit one is described as endogamous in their marriage customs.  This shows that any "whites" who were involved with the origins of Ghana were likely people who adopted aspects of local culture rather than initiating centralized kingdoms of states. They may have been descendants of the cultural syncretism that some archaeologists argue appeared in Mauritania after 500 BC, when the Libyco-Berber presence is attested in the Dhar Tichitt, Walata, and associated areas. The old-fashioned Hamitic Hypothesis has been disproved countless times, but there likely was some degree of cultural exchange and influences between sedentary agriculturalists and pastoralists in Mauritania and Mali before Ghana's emergence.

Moreover, al-Bakri's account of Ghana's monarch and religion does not indicate any sort of "white" origin. Certainly, there is even far less evidence for Delafosse's "Jewish" theory of the origins of Ghana. If Jews from Cyrenaica had settled in the Awkar or other heartlands of the Ghana empire ca. 150-200 AD, establishing the kingdom by the year 300, one would imagine they would have left behind evidence in terms of synagogues, inscriptions, religion, or ritual objects in the Sahel or southern Sahara. Jewish populations were definitely present in the region several centuries later, after the increase in the scale of trans-Saharan trade. Another fanciful theory might attempt to link the origins of Ghana to Egypt or Nubia, but one would think evidence of such contacts should appear in the archaeological record. However, al-Bakri's description of royal funerary customs and the discovery of elite burials in the forms of tumuli in Mali and Senegal do suggest kings were buried with their possessions and some of their human servants, a custom that appeared on the Nile Valley thousands of years previously. This in itself proves nothing, however, and one finds no indication of Egyptian or Nubian deities in the territories associated with Ghana. 

Last, but certainly not least, one has the problematic origin theories of Frobenius, who saw a connection to the lost civilization of Atlantis in ancient "Black Africa." Through stories like "Gassire's Lute" and Frobenius's influential writings, he appears to have invented the idea of an epic cycle of stories of the Soninke, and wishes to connect them to his wider theories. While the Legend of Wagadu does indeed exist among Soninke populations dispersed across a large swathe of West Africa, and some of the oral traditions clearly reflect Islamization in their desire to trace the origin of Dinga to the Middle East, there is no evidence for an epic tradition akin to Frobenius's description. Undoubtedly, there is no evidence for ancient Atlantis or much of any contact between the Soninke and the Mediterranean world before the 8th century. 

As for the Arab ancestry of the 12th century Muslim king of Ghana identified by al-Idrissi, that is clearly a significant change from the "pagan" kings described in the 1000s. According to al-Bakri, kings like Basi and Tunkamenin were friendly with Muslims and included them in the royal administration. But besides the mention of one of Basi's son possibly being a Muslim, there is no evidence of significant penetration of Islam among the royalty of Ghana in the 11th century. Silla, a town identified by al-Bakri as resisting Ghana and having a Muslim king, may point to another example of a Soninke ruler converting to Islam. A century later, however, the kings of Ghana were affiliated with Islam and, per al-Idrissi, claimed descent from the Prophet's family. However, claims of sharifian descent are not unheard of among converted peoples. It only reveals the extent to which the king of Ghana and his Muslim contemporaries saw him as part of Islam.

However, the interplay of oral and written traditions of the Soninke and local chronicles do support some of the Arabic sources from al-Bakri onwards. For instance, one of the named kings of the 11th century, Tunkamenin, suggests a Soninke origin for the ruling dynasty. The title tunka among the Soninke signifies royalty, perhaps indicating al-Bakri combined the Soninke title with the name of the king. Soninke oral traditions also speak of a serpent associated with the fortune of the kingdom. Al-Bakri describes such a custom among an affiliated group in the Ghana kingdom (perhaps a Soninke sub-group). Furthermore, many of the towns along the Senegal, Faleme, and Niger rivers identified in the medieval Arabic sources appear in Soninke oral traditions of their dispersal from Wagadu. The patronymic clan names, serpent Bida, and other oral sources attest to the veracity of some of the North African, Iberian, and Middle Eastern geographies and reports. 

Moreover, the Timbuktu chronicles suggest the fall of the kayamaga (one of the titles of the rulers of Ghana after conflict with a group affiliated with a lower caste, servile origin, or ignoble roots. This may indicate the fall of the kayamaga after conflict with one of the "slaves of the state" lineages or caste groups. Perhaps the fall of the so-called Cisse dynasty represents the end of a non-Muslim line of kings, assuming the oral traditions are reliable on this point. But the line of kayamaga identified in the Tarikh al-Fattash suggest an end of their dynasty around the 7th or 8th century, identifying their last prince as Kanissa'ai. If true, were the kayamaga identified in the chronicle an early dynasty that was replaced by the Cisse? If the kayamaga line ended by the 7th or 8th century, they were certainly non-Muslim and perhaps the usurpers may have been of a servile lineage or caste group who decimated the old aristocracy.  

Although very limited and relying on oral sources to describe events centuries before their 17th century context, the Timbuktu chronicles do give us the capital of Ghana (Kumbi) and point to some type of conflict that may have reflected the impact of new ideas or intensified social relations (slavery, Islam, Mande caste systems, an expansion of Soninke trading diasporas?). Tamari's essay on the origins of the Mande caste system argues that it emerged among the Malinke peoples prior to the Soninke, appearing among the former by the 13th century. I would argue that it's probably older, and if the example of Ghana was a model of sorts to successor empires, there probably was some form of occupational castes among the Soninke during the period of Ghana. The caste system and Soninke social structure of the ethnographic present might demonstrate that Ghana's social structure consisted of free-born nobles, warriors, chiefs, traders, farmers, caste groups, and slaves. Perhaps the predecessor to the marabouts in pre-Islamic times were the priests of the "traditional" religion, associated with the "idols," ancestor veneration, secret societies, divination and rites. If the kayamaga line ended in the first century of Islam,  there may have already been dynastic change before the appearance of Ghana on the world scene, caused in part by servile populations such as the Kusa (slaves of the state) or conflict over control of the expanding trans-Saharan trade.

What this tells us about Ghana before the 8th or 9th century, I am not sure. Yet, the pre-Islamic foundations of the state appear quite clear, even predating evidence for trans-Saharan trade. It is only in the 12th century when evidence for Muslim kings among the royal dynasty appear, although some of the royalty and chiefs may have converted in the 11th century. Of course, the cousin of Tunkamenin identified as a ruler of Alouken, said to be a Muslim, had to hide his religion from his subjects. If true, this suggests that the Soninke rulers had to, at least publicly, support the "traditional" religion. But in order to control the distribution of gold from the south, impose a system of taxation, and demand tribute from subject towns or polities under its hegemony, there must have been political, economic, and social organization of some magnitude. By the 11th century, literate Muslims were involved in the administration, but one can surmise there already was something akin to Mande occupational castes for ironworkers, leatherworkers, and other occupations on the village level. Presumably, masons, weavers, craftsmen and other groups existed in the towns to produce the stone buildings in the royal city, but they might not have been organized into caste groups, if Djenne and Timbuktu exemplify a regional trend.

There probably were slaves of the king who may have served as local administrators or agricultural workers, while the majority of the population would have been "free" farmers or cultivators. Soninke traders must have also been on the move in southeastern Mauritania, the lands along the Senegal River, and the Inland Niger Delta relatively early on to ensure the distribution of gold from alluvial deposits in the south. Since Ghana did not directly control gold production, it is difficult to say who the people panning for gold were. Seasonal workers? As for the military of Ghana, al-Bakri's mention of 200,000 soldiers is impossible to verify. It also conflicts with his statement the land of Ghana was poorly peopled, unless the bulk of the soldiers came from lands further south among tributary towns. However, it does indicate the likely power and military might of the state, even if it was probably not a standing army. Either way, this military apparatus would have depended on an adequate supply of food, horses, arrows, spears, and other weapons, suggesting some degree of centralization to ensure distribution and security along trade routes.

Since the royal town, perhaps Kumbi, was affiliated with the "traditional" religion of "idolatry," ancestor veneration, sacrificial offerings, massive groves, and the massive mound burials of the royalty, religion must have played a role in legitimating the king's authority. According to ak-Bakri, the ruling king before Tunkamenin was blind, but had to hide it from his subjects. This could reflect a belief in the king's body as sacred or infallible. The Islamic influence prior to the 12th century must have been mostly concentrated in the towns and cities, but it is possible that Islamic-derived divination practices may have already exerted some influence on local practices among the Soninke. Some of the trading diasporas of the Soninke (Wangara?) may have been early converts to Islam, too. Whether or not the religion had any appeal to commoners or rural areas is unknown, but may have coexisted rather peacefully with local religions. If the conversion of some of the ruling elite to Islam weakened the dynasty's authority, it may have paved the way for factional conflict by the time of the Almoravid dynasty, and eventual fall ca. 1203 to the Sosso. It certainly would have required an adaptation or modification of earlier notions of royal authority, but the later Mali kings of the 13th century and 14th century appear to have combined local sources of royal authority with their Muslim religion. Indeed, if the Arabic sources can be trusted, an early Muslim king of Mali went so far as to destroy the idols of his "pagan" subjects, but retained his royal position.

So, what do we really know about early Ghana? It is likely that there was some connection to the Tichitt Tradition in prehistoric Mauritania, but Iron Age sites further south in Mali could prove to be the real origin of the state. There is no evidence whatsoever for a "Hamitic Hypothesis." Nor can one attribute the rise of Ghana to the stimulus of the trans-Saharan trade, although it definitely shaped later developments. The chronology of the ruling dynasty (or dynasties) is also uncertain, but the Soninke are unquestionably tied to it. What "Soninke" meant over 1000 years ago is of course not the same as our modern conception of it, naturally. Identities and languages were presumably fluid, and general similarities in conceptions of the world or social organization among Mande peoples probably indicate a degree of cultural similarity between differing ethnic groups. Ghana's significance as an empire comprised of different states and peoples is a testament to the cultural mosaic of the Sahel, and developments in Ghana also paved the way for transformations that altered the rest of West Africa.

Sources

Bakrī, Abū ʻUbayd ʻAbd Allāh ibn ʻAbd al-ʻAzīz, and William MacGuckin Slane. Description De L'Afrique Septentrionale. 2. éd. Alger: A. Jourdan, 1911. 

Burkhalter, Sheryl L. "Listening for Silences in Almoravid History: Another Reading of "The Conquest That Never Was"." History in Africa 19 (1992): 103-31. Accessed November 5, 2020. doi:10.2307/3171996.

 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.

Conrad, David C. "Oral Sources on Links between Great States: Sumanguru, Servile Lineage, the Jariso, and Kaniaga." History in Africa 11 (1984): 35-55. Accessed November 4, 2020. doi:10.2307/3171626.

 Conrad, David, and Humphrey Fisher. "The Conquest That Never Was: Ghana and the Almoravids, 1076. I. The External Arabic Sources." History in Africa 9 (1982): 21-59. Accessed November 5, 2020. doi:10.2307/3171598.

Diop, Majhemout. Histoire Des Classes Sociales Dans L'Afrique De L'ouest. Paris: L'Harmattan, 1985.

Fage, J. D. "ANCIENT GHANA: A REVIEW OF THE EVIDENCE." Transactions of the Historical Society of Ghana 3, no. 2 (1957): 3-24. Accessed November 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41405704.

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

 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.

Kassibo, Bréhima. "La Géomancie Ouest-africaine. Formes Endogènes Et Emprunts Extérieurs (West African Geomancy: Endogenous and Borrowed Forms)." Cahiers D'Études Africaines 32, no. 128 (1992): 541-96. Accessed November 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4392411.

Levtzion, Nehemia, and American Council of Learned Societies. Ancient Ghana and Mali. New York, N.Y.: Africana Pub. Company, 1980. 

Magnavita, Soja. "Initial Encounters: Seeking traces of ancient trade connections between West Africa and the wider world", Afriques, 04 | 2013, mis en ligne le 25 mai 2013, consulté le 05 novembre 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/afriques/1145; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/afriques.1145

McIntosh, Susan Keech. "Reconceptualizing Early Ghana." Canadian Journal of African Studies / Revue Canadienne Des Études Africaines 42, no. 2/3 (2008): 347-73. Accessed November 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40380172.

Munson, Patrick J. "Archaeology and the Prehistoric Origins of the Ghana Empire." The Journal of African History 21, no. 4 (1980): 457-66. Accessed November 2, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/182004.

Pollet, Eric, and Grace Winter. La Société Soninké (Dyahunu, Mali). Bruxelles: Éditions de l'Institut de sociologie, Université libre de Bruxelles, 1971. 

 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. 

Tamari, Tal. "The Development of Caste Systems in West Africa." The Journal of African History 32, no. 2 (1991): 221-50. Accessed November 3, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/182616.

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.

Labuchin on Alexis

 

 

Interested in this segment of Rassoul Labuchin's memories of Jacques-Stephen Alexis. In this extrait, he discusses the Taino and the Amerindian past of the island. Although I personally believe Alexis exaggerated their cultural legacy in today's Haitians, it is interesting nonetheless. Particularly interesting in relation to the character of Gonaibo in Alexis's famous novel.

The Vortex Family

Desiring to read some Haitian fiction before plunging into science fiction and other topics, I came across the English translation of Jean Metellus's The Vortex Family. Translated by Michael Richardson, the text comes off as very poetic and oblique, with the occasional UK slang or expressions. The text's lack of exposition and shifting, poetic nature in its several short chapters or snippets can be occasionally beautiful and lyrical, despite its depressing themes of exile and political corruption in Haiti. Loosely based on the tumultuous falls of Estime, Magloire and Fignole, the novel focuses on the various descendants of Solon Vortex who, due to their response or involvement with politics, are forced into exile. The Vortex, descendants of Africans and Indians, are of the 'middling' sector in Haitian society that came to power in the post-1946 years, encompassing doctors, military professionals, university lecturers, teachers, chemists, and Catholic clergy.

The novel felt particularly strong when covering the fall of Estime (and Edgard Vortex), detailing the various social classes in conflict that made it seem almost inevitable that a coup would occur. The same process recurs with the fictionalized versions of Magloire and Fignole, demonstrating how Haiti's political chaos of the immediate pre-Duvalier years paved the way for the full terrors of Duvalierism. Some of the literary symbolism of the novel is also quite convincing, particularly the cockfight in Saltrou between a Dominican and a Haitian with a conclusion showing just how powerless the victor becomes. Olga, the matriarch of the Vortex family, is also worth mention. As the last descendant of an "Indian" family tracing its origins back to the Arawaks, Olga is the only character in modern Haitian fiction that I can think of who is "Amerindian." Whether or not the author actually believed there were Haitian descendants of the indigenous population who also inherited aspects of their culture is beyond my knowledge, but it is an interesting example of the Native heritage of Haiti as a living tradition, albeit still en route to extinction despite Olga's seven children. The indigenous past of the island seems to be invoked to tie together the African antecedence of Solon and the Arawak heritage of his wife to proffer the Vortex clan as the rightful heirs of Haitian autonomy. 

Despite its interesting, fictionalized interpretation of Haiti before the even more horrendous days of Duvalier, the novel's lack of exposition can, at times, make for a thinly-plotted novel. Out of nowhere, characters are suddenly targeted by the military as dissidents without any real explanation or plot development. Some passages are actually a little confusing when this occurs. But the novel makes up for its thinness with passages of rare beauty and longing for a better Haiti. Despite its shortcomings, it helps us understand the social and economic conditions that led to the Duvalier dictatorship through the lives of people who, willingly or unwillingly, found themselves engulfed in the political conflicts, coups, and civil unrest of an era of great promise.