Estimating the Nago Population in Saint Domingue

One very rough method of estimating the possible Yoruba imports in Saint-Domingue is to combine estimates and data from Manning, Geggus, and other sources. Manning, whose study of the slave trade in Dahomey was a major source used by us for another group, has provided us some rough estimates for the ethnic origin of Slave Coast exports in the period from 1641-1870. Using his estimates for the period 1641-1800, we calculated that about 10.35% of the total exports were of Yoruba captives. If one applies this estimate of 10.35% to David Geggus's data on Bight of Benin imports in Saint-Domingue, one reaches the figure of around 16327 "Nago" captives. Intriguingly, Geggus's own dataset of 13,334 slaves from 1721-1797 included 1580 Nago captives. That makes them about 11.85% of the slave population in that particular dataset. But applying that percentage to the total estimated slave imports would wield an unreasonably high number,  about 71,077. 

When checking the Slave Voyages site on the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, one finds different numbers. For the period from 1709-1792, the data gives us a total of 185,248 captives brought to Saint Domingue from the Bight of Benin. If one uses Manning's data for a general estimate of 10.35%, then perhaps 19173 Yoruba were brought to the colony of Saint Domingue in the 18th century. This is higher than our earlier estimate of 16327 but still plausible. It also seems likely that in the later decades of the 18th century, the Nago presence among the African-born population was proportionally greater or more conspicuous. Nonetheless, it is likely that the numbers of Nago captives brought to the colony were perhaps anywhere from 16327 to 19173. Using the latter high, one might suggest the "Nago" were nearly 3.2% of the total imported into the island on French ships. The number was likely higher since smuggled captives were not considered and the data isn't as reliable as it should be. 

Captives of Conquest

For all interested in learning about the origins of enslaved indigenous peoples in the Spanish circum-Caribbean, Woodruff Stone's Captives of Conquest: Slavery in the Early Modern Spanish Caribbean is an enlightening read. Captives of Conquest demonstrates how central Indian labor and the commodification of their very lives was to the process of Spanish colonial expansion from 1492-1550. It also highlights how the Caribbean laid the foundations for Spanish America through the role of slave raiding, slave auxiliaries, and slave trading for Spanish exploration and travel to new parts of the Americas. The often weak authority of the Spanish Crown and the evolving discourse on Indian rights, labor regimes, and "race" can be seen in the pivotal half-century or so in which hundreds of thousands of Indians were, voluntarily or involuntarily, participants in the creation of European colonialism in the western hemisphere. 

Our interest in reading this work was mainly with regard to the degree or extent foreign Indian slaves intermarried and interacted with local indigenous populations of the Caribbean and the increasingly important African population of the Greater Antilles. Citing various colonial records on the trade in Indians from Tierra Firme, Mexico, Brazil, Central America, Florida, and beyond, Woodruff Stone presents clear evidence for a vast scale of slave trading that brought more Indians to Hispaniola, Puerto Rico, Cuba, and Jamaica. Thus, despite the dwindling local indigenous population in Hispaniola or Puerto Rico, the slave trade of Indians from throughout the circum-Caribbean introduced thousands more. Their labor was essential for Spanish sugar plantations, gold mining, and domestic service, especially since African slaves were more expensive. Despite their numerical significance, high mortality rates and the lack of sufficient records (after all, many Indians were victims of illegal Spanish slave raids, including against allies of the Spanish in Venezuela), they continued to be important ever after 1542. Indeed, this proves that some of the colonial reports of Hispaniola or Puerto Rico lacking Indian populations after 1550 were partly inspired by officials eager to hide their continued enslavement of indigenous peoples. 

Drawing on pre-contact Caribbean mobility, trade, and cultural networks, Captives of Conquest establishes that the indigenes of the region had long-established connections. However, it appears that the rapid influx of thousands of foreign Indians from places as disparate as Florida and Mexico or the Yucatan and the interior of Venezuela may have further weakened Taino caciques. If local caciques, whose authority was already eroded by the repartimiento of 1514 on Hispaniola and rapid population declines and dislocations caused by the Spanish, were also losing authority because of the introduction of thousands of foreign Indians, then we are inclined to think locals had to reconceive local political and social traditions. Even if foreign Indians were slaves and locals part of an encomienda system, in practice the distinction between a free and an enslaved Indian might not have meant much. Thus, we are inclined to think foreign Indians who survived may have joined local Indian communities and helped create new identities. Evidence of this can be seen in Yucatecan and Taino marriages in colonial Cuba. According to Captives of Conquest, some of these populations also intermarried with Africans, thereby adding more cultural diversity. 

Our guess is that Puerto Rico experienced something similar as local Indians intermarried or formed new communities with those from the Lesser Antilles, the Bahamas, Yucatan, and Tierra Firme. Perhaps this may explain why the cacique of Mona, for instance, was a native of Tierra Firme living in San German during the 1590s. If non-local Indians could rise to positions of authority, and the Taino were always mobile and engaged in long-distance trade, perhaps foreign Indians were more assimilable than we can detect from the Spanish accounts. Thus, perhaps the enslaved Indians enumerated in the de Lando census of 1530, who already outnumbered "free" Indians in Puerto Rico, may have included people who adopted local Indian practices or joined their communities. Or later did so, possibly contributing to the maintenance of Indian communities and practices that were later adopted by all the free peasantry of the island.

Saugrain Habitation in Bainet, c. 1720

The Saugrain habitation in early 18th century Bainet is actually one of the indigoteries for which we have some data on its enslaved workforce. Much of our interest in the Saugrain comes from Alexis Saugrain, the son of Francois Saugrain and a woman named Barbe. Alexis, Charles, and Francois were the sons of these two and all three appear to have been born in Saint-Domingue (in Grand-Goave). Their father, who remarried a few years before his demise, expired in 1719. Their father was presumably from Normandy, as the Jacmel parish registers indicate in his marriage to a Marguerite Francq. The parents of Alexis and his brothers appear in the 1735 testament of Francois Saugrain, naming Alexis as his heir. Charles Saugrain also gave some of his property (including 3 slaves) to Alexis in that same year...

Alexis Saugrain's brother's testament from 1735 names their parents. Yes, I know...3 different generations of men named Francois Saugrain. Alexis had a brother named Francois, father called Francois, and a grandfather named Francois...

In 1720, the property of the Saugrain habitation was listed and can be found on among the Saint-Domingue Notariat from Jacmel in the 1720s. Luckily, FamilySearch's website included it among their limited Saint-Domingue Notariat records. We have produced a crude table illustrating the enslaved population by its "national" origins. The Creole predominance this early in a Bainet plantation is a little striking.

Nation		Quantity
Arada		5
Creole		20
Senegalois		1
Minne (Mine)		4
Nago		1
Mamou		3
Mondongue		1
Loango		1
Samba?		1
Adouri?		1
Jouda		1
Oueda		1

From 1703, when the Saugrain household only included 8 slaves in the census, their habitation increased to 40 enslaved laborers by 1720. Half of their human "property" consisted of Creoles, mostly children and born in the colony. Suzanne, the woman we suspect to be the same slave of the Saugrain who gave birth to a daughter who married a Gory in 1738, was the only Creole born outside of Saint-Domingue. The other notable feature of the data is the weak presence of Central Africans. The ubiquitous "Congos" are only represented by 2 Central Africans, 1 Mondongue and 1 person who probably came from or via Loango. The Senegalois presence is also limited, despite the Senegambia region probably providing a more sizable portion of Saint-Domingue's slave population than in later decades.

Thanks to ANOM, we know Francois Saugrain married a Marguerite Francq in 1717, whose father was from Jamaica. Baptisms recorded for other children of Jean Francq refer to him as a slave of Francois Saugrain...

In this sample, clearly the Slave Coast and Gold Coast were the major sources of Africans. The Minne or Mine represented 10 percent of the total. If one combines Arada, Jouda, Nago, and Oueda, then 20 percent came via the Slave Coast. Allada, once the dominant kingdom in today's Benin, claimed suzerainty over Ouidah during the period before 1720 and powerful Oyo to the north also contributed to the provision of captives through its slave trade. Of the African-born population on the plantation, 40 percent appear to have been from the Slave Coast. If the identification of the ambiguous "nations" could be confidently asserted, then the Slave Coast proportion might have been even higher. Unfortunately, we have no idea what to make of the Mamou, Samba (?) and the other unknown nation. Google searching brings up a Mamou in Guinea, which probably isn't what we are looking for. The other 2 are unknown to us and Debien has not provided any clues. It is interesting to note that none of the adult males were Creoles. Supposedly the Saugrain did own an adult Creole a few years before 1720, a native of Jamaica named Jean Francq. But he must have been freed since his children were freed by the Saugrain. 

We cannot decipher the "nation" or ethnic background of Andre.

Naturally, we cannot ascertain how representative the Saugrain habitation was for Bainet or Jacmel in the 1720s. Indigo plantations must have differed from other types, and we know the Compagnie de Saint-Domingue was still the main (legal) source of slaves. Perhaps smuggling (such as a slave from Jamaica and a slave from Curacao) provided much of the laborers? We would have to find inventories, deeds, and testaments for other parts of Bainet or Jacmel for a more representative sample of Bainet's African population in the early 1700s. Yet it is still interesting to know what one early Bainet plantation looked like and the world one of our (probable) enslaved ancestors experienced. 

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.

Muslims in Saint Domingue

Despite some of the strong assertions by scholars of a prominent role played by enslaved Muslims in Saint Domingue, most sources do appear not support that narrative. Two scholars in particular, Diouf and Gomez, promote unsubstantiated or speculative claims of prominent leaders among the slave rebels being Muslim. A Haitian blogger, Salnave, has dedicated several articles to disproving the thesis, albeit adding some of his own speculations in certain cases. So, what do the sources actually reveal about the presence of Muslims among the enslaved in Saint Domingue? And of what import does it come to bear on the history of slavery and Haiti? And how has the narrative of Islamic influences in the Haitian Revolution contributed to or hindered our understanding of it?

First, the sources can be uncertain or vague, and it is wrong-headed to attribute a Muslim identity to an African based on the name or assigned "nation." Our nearly encyclopedic source of information about the colony, Moreau de Saint-Méry, mentioned that many of the enslaved West Africans coming from the regions of the Senegal River to Sierra Leone were Muslims, but they mix Islam with idolatry. These aforementioned "nations" of Africans consisted of the Senegalese, Wolof, Poulards, Bambaras, Quiambas, Mandingues, Bissagots, and Soso, groups whose islamization, in some cases, postdates Haitian independence. In addition to some Islamic influences among captives from that region of West Africa, he claimed there were some Muslims from other areas of West Africa who mixed some Islamic practices with their idolatry (these "nations" coming from the lands from Cap Apollonie to the Gold Coast and Galba). However, Moreau de Saint-Méry's proves himself somewhat unreliable because he claims one of the few ways to tell if some West Africans were Muslim is if they were circumcised. He appears to think circumcision in Africa is linked to Islam, so one must question his claims of Islamic practices and influences upon the enslaved population. But his assertions of a Muslim presence among some of these groups is supported by Charlevoix, whose history of Saint Domingue mentions some Senegal Muslims in the colony.

Moreover, he also reveals himself to be a questionable witness because he claims the "Congo" included some with Islamic practices. The presence of Islam in West Central Africa during the 18th century was likely minimal, far less influential there than West Africa. Unless some of the captives came from areas of what are now eastern Congo, the Central African Republic, or Chad, their exposure to Islam was probably non-existent. Furthermore, many of the aforementioned "nations" who may have been Muslim or exposed to Islam, were largely practicing "traditional" religions until the 19th and 20th centuries (the Bambara come to mind). It is certainly possible that some of the previously mentioned West African "nations" included Muslims, as well as the Hausa, Yoruba, and Nupe, and additional captives from southeastern Africa. Indeed, there is also a remote chance of Muslim captives arriving in the colony from the Swahili Coast, Madagascar or India, though very unlikely. However, without more sources, assuming a significant Muslim presence among the enslaved population of Saint Domingue is speculative.

Another source used by Diouf and Gomez, Colonel Malenfant, attests to the presence of some literate Muslims in the colony. During the Haitian Revolution, slave rebels sometimes wore amulets with Arabic writing, a practice that was also common among non-Muslim groups in West Africa. Malenfant also describes an encounter with a literate African, named Tamerlan, who claimed to have come from a kingdom where writing and the production of books was common. Gomez deduced that Tamerlan was likely from a Muslim kingdom in West Africa, and the example of writing he produced for Malenfant, a long prayer of twenty lines written in a script Malenfant could not recognize, may have been ajami. Nonetheless, based on Malenfant's account of Tamerlan's literacy (one in a script associated with "long-haired mulattoes," perhaps the Tuareg or another population in the Sahel), Tamerlan assured him it was not Arabic. But, if it was ajami writing, however, one would think Tamerlan could have explained that to Malenfant? 

But, other details of Tamerlan's life before captivity do suggest a possible Muslim background. In addition to his role as a priest, instructor to a prince and maker of books or manuscripts, or so he claimed, he revealed to Malenfant that his hometown possessed 300,000 inhabitants. This is probably a reference to the total population the surrounding area of the capital city, not the royal capital itself. Intriguingly, the former capital city of the Bornu kingdom was, according to Dixon Denham, 200,000, before its fall during the early 19th century. It is likely that the majority of the structures in the city were constructed with wood or straw, like other cities of West Africa. Is there a chance Tamerlan was from the Kingdom of Bornu? He also said that he had not seen whites in his city, but the aforementioned long-haired mulattoes, probably a reference to the Tuareg or Berbers. He probably would have met other "whites" from Arab populations connected to Bornu via trans-Saharan networks, so uncertainty lingers. When he was captured, it took more than 3 months for him to reach the coast, where whites loaded the captives onto slave ships. This suggests he was from deep in the interior of what was most likely West Africa. The city of his king was built in wood, mostly of single-story homes. If true, then Tamerlan came from a very large city ruled by a powerful king. It is possible Tamerlan exaggerated some of these details to give an image of greater grandeur to his African past, but he clearly longed to return. According to Malenfant, he was one of the "few" Africans who wised to return to the continent, which suggests he probably enjoyed a position of great status. In consideration of all of the above, it is possible Tamerlan was indeed a Muslim from West Africa, but Malenfant's account is shrouded in hazy memory and doubt to prove it. Either way, Malenfant's memory of Tamerlan was linked to accounts of Muslim slaves in Saint Domingue.

Our next, and perhaps best source on Muslims in Saint Domingue, may corroborate a Muslim origin of Tamerlan. Etienne Michel Descourtilz, while at the Rossignol-Desdunes habitation in the Artibonite, collected details and accounts of the various African "nations" he encountered in Saint Domingue. For most, there is no mention of Islam. "Nations" which may have contained Islamic practitioners were not mentioned as Muslim. For instance, the Mozambiques are classified as Catholic and "Vaudoux" adherents, suggesting that most of the captives from southeastern Africa were not Muslim. There could have been a few who were, either from Mozambique, Tanzania, or Madagascar, but without sources it remains speculation. If anything, Descourtilz's experiences with Africans in Artibonite and Saint Domingue attests to the limited presence of Muslims among the enslaved, as the vast majority are mentioned with any reference to Islam.

Yet, Descourtilz does provide the best direct evidence of practicing Muslims in Saint Domingue. His two groups are the Phylani (Fulani), the Islamized among the Poulard of West Africa, and the "Beurno." His account of the former compares them to the Jews, although he describes their god as being Allah. The Phylani lived a nomadic lifestyle in Africa, stressed filial piety, and referred to their priest as "alpha." The Phylani group's religious holidays, abstention from pork, and prayers clearly demonstrate Islamic practices. Their priest or alpha was also literate, like Tamerlan. Besides the Phylani Muslim community in the colony, who were probably a very tiny one, Descourtilz wrote about the "Beurno" and their kingdom in Africa with some detail. According to Descourtilz, some slaves from "Beurno" toiled on the Rossignold-Desdunes plantation, thereby giving him multiple chances to speak with and observe the customs of "Beurno" Africans. 

"Beurno" is undoubtedly a reference to Bornu, a long-established kingdom in West Africa with roots in ancient Kanem. Their kings had converted to Islam several centuries before, and many of its subjects appear to have converted to Islam long before the Fulani jihads of the 1800s. Evidence of the Islamic influence upon the "Bornu" Africans can be found in what Descourtilz described as their strict submission of women to men, and gender separation of married women and men. According to Descourtilz, the religion of the Bornu resembled that of the Phylani, and they shared in their abstention from pork (they only consumed meat blessed by their alpha, or priest). Literacy was also present among the Bornu, who can read, write, transmit the code of their divine law. Descourtilz even described their custom of writing on wooden planks, a custom still seen in parts of Muslim West Africa. The religious texts produced in Bornu were highly valued, and many were willing to pay dearly or sell their livestock to purchase said texts. In short, the "Beurno" described by Descourtilz were, in at least some cases, devout Muslims whose social practices were influenced by Islam. The description of the king of "Beurno" and the prevalence of the slave trade also confirms the Bornu identification, although the specific "Beurno" captives met by Descourtilz were the defeated in a battle with rivals of Bornu.

So, via Descourtilz, we have direct accounts of at least two Islamized groups in Saint Domingue. It is unclear what their total numbers were, but a group of the "Beurno" were working at the Rossignol-Desdunes plantation. For the Phylani Muslims, their numbers were likely small, too. Descourtilz does not offer much in terms of understanding the influence of these two groups on other slaves, and their small numbers and distinct religion may have encouraged them to look inward and try to preserve some of their customs and practices. If they were like African Muslims in other parts of the Caribbean, they may have been able to survive as a small community for a few generations. But, if evidence from Trinidad and elsewhere is relevant to Saint Domingue and Haiti, one would think most of the Muslims in Saint Domingue vanished after a few generations or merged into the general population, possibly converting to Catholicism or joining Vodou adherents. I have yet to come across any sources attesting to Muslim communities after independence, and claims of Muslim Mandingue in Balan are likely exaggerated. 

 To conclude, one must admit the idea of an Islamic contribution to the making of Haiti clearly resonates with some of the African Diaspora. To me, it seems to be a reflection of inaccurate histories of Islam in Africa, black nationalist romances of Islam as "our religion" and, in some cases, an outdated civilizationist and vindicationist discourse used by some Haitian intellectuals to elevate the status of some of our forebears. Clearly, Price-Mars and Jean Fouchard thought very highly of the famous kingdoms and empires of the medieval Western Sudan. Some, like Fouchard, attribute literacy and refinement to these people through their contact with Arabs and Islam. Thus, they can foment a counter-narrative that suggests our African ancestors were not all illiterate peoples removed from the most important aspects of civilization. Of course, one would hope proponents of the Islamic theory distance themselves from that paradigm, but there is still a remnant of it in the way some scholars describe the esteem enslaved Muslims received from their masters. Undoubtedly it lives on through the legacy of Edward Blyden and 20th century Black Muslim movements. Regardless, we are stuck at the impasse described in Reed's Mumbo Jumbo, with Islam, Vodun, and "Atenism" as competing forces. 

Ultimately, the benefit of this revisionist scholarship, for what it's worth, is that it does shed light and add nuance to our understanding of the various peoples in Saint Domingue. It helps piece together who the forced migrants were, what their values may have been, and the kinds of societies from which they sprang. Indeed, Descourtilz's essay on the African "nations" of Saint Domingue was intimately linked to a history of Africa. Malenfant recognized the great use captives like Tamerlan could have for the European exploration of the African continent. Consequently, studying the origins of the African populations of Saint Domingue is also a study of the history of Africa. But until new evidence emerges, the tale of Islam in Saint Domingue will be one of a small minority who have contributed to the mosaic of Africa that is Haiti. The blog of Salnave has already demonstrated how limited the Islamic presence was and its role in the Haitian Revolution, but there will always be room for new interpretations and conclusions about the birth of Haiti.

Bibliography 

Charlevoix, Pierre-François-Xavier de, and Jean Baptiste Le Pers. Histoire de l'isle espagnole ou de S. Domingue: ecrite particulierement sur des memoires manuscrits du p. Jean-Baptiste le Pers, Jesuite, missionnaire à Saint Domingue, & sur les pieces originales, qui se conservent au Dépôt de la marine. Amsterdam: F. L'Honoré, 1733.

Denham, Dixon, Hugh Clapperton, and Walter Oudney. Travels and Discoveries in Northern and Central Africa: In 1822, 1823, and 1824. London: J. Murray, 1831.

Descourtilz, Michel Étienne. Voyages d'un naturaliste, et ses observations faites sur les trois regnes de la Nature, dans plusieurs ports de mer francais, en Espagne, au continent d'Amerique septentrionale, a Saint-Yago de Cuba, et a Saint Domingue, ou l'Auteur devenu le prisonnier de 40,000 Noirs revoltes, et par suite mis en liberte par une colonne de l'armee frangais, donne des details circonstancies sur l'expedition du general Leclerc, 3 vols. Paris: Dufart, 1809.

Diouf, Sylviane A. Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas. New York: New York University Press, 1998. 

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. Black Crescent: The Experience and Legacy of African Muslims in the Americas. Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 

Khan, Aisha. "Islam, Vodou, and the Making of the Afro-Atlantic." NWIG: New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 86, no. 1/2 (2012): 29-54. Accessed October 5, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41850693.

Malenfant, Col. Des colonies, et particulièrement de celle de Saint-Dominique: mémoire historique et politique, ou l'on trouvera, 1o un exposé impartial des causes et un précis historique des guerres civiles qui ont rendu cette dernière colonie indépendante, 2o des considérations sur l'importance de la rattacher à la métropole et sur les moyens de le renter avec succès, d'y ramener une paix durable, d'en rétablir et accroître la prospérité. Paris: Audibert, (C.-F. Patris), 1814.

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.

Salnave, Rodney. "Saint Domingue's islamized were submissive". September 29, 2020 ; Updated Sept. 30, 2020. [online] URL : https://bwakayiman.blogspot.com/2020/09/Saint-Domingues-submissive-islamized.html ; Retrieved on October 1, 2020.