Mbanza Kongo as Contested Site

             Often, the staking of territory for the establishment of Empire does not begin with intentions of constant relocating, renaming and rebuilding of the capital city. However, this transpires with the capitals of a number of regional powers, including the Kongo Kingdom. Taking into account the kingdom’s destabilization through neighbouring invasions and conquests of the Jaga peoples and the Kingdom of Ndongo (currently Angola), it is no wonder that the structures of Sāo Salvador, or Mbanza Kongo as it was later to be called, dissipated and eventually collapsed after exceedingly rapid development, growth of smaller political units and internally contesting factions.

            David Birmingham, one of the more respected, critical historians of the Kongo region, discusses the shifting of the capital city in his text Trade and Conflict in Angola. According to some sources, allegedly the first king of Kongo conquered the province of Mpemba shortly after the beginning of the 15^th century, and “On his way south he stopped at Mpemba Kazi (Npembacasi)… [and] he moved his capital further south to Mbanza Kongo… Linguistic evidence seems to support this tradition and suggests that the region of Mpemba Kasi, and not that of Mpemba Kongo, is the central area of the Kikongo language.”[1] Though documents challenging this move do exist, Birmingham seems fairly certain that this move made economical, political and strategic sense for the incoming leader of the Kongo. For one, Mbanza Kongo (also referred to as Sāo Salvador during certain centuries), remained deep enough inside the kingdom that the surrounding coastal states to the east and south (Nsoyo and Mbamba) and the bordering inland states to the north and west (Mbata and Nsundi) provided important buffers from Europeans and central African states alike. Additionally, the city was well situated on a highly elevated plateau, protecting it from unwanted attacks, though accessible for inland couriers to deliver taxes from neighbouring provinces.

Geography of Kongo (Thornton, Kongo Kingdom pp. 5)

            Mbanza Kongo benefited greatly from these taxes of its prosperous neighbour states, and there emerged two distinct classes in the mid 16^th century: that of the laboring, rural peasantry largely residing in the surrounding states, and that of the noble aristocracy in the capital state of Mpemba. When King Garcia II occupied the throne in 1641, the Kongo Kingdom was at the height of span of empire as Thornton describes, “In his day, the population was somewhat over half a million people living in an area of some 130,000 square kilometers, although Kongo’s claims extended to a larger area than did its effective rule.”[2]

Extent of Kongo Kingdom 1641 (Thornton, Kongo Kingdom pp. 40)

Slaves were relied upon greatly for their labour in the Kongo Kingdom, and the management of agriculture production and trade resulting in a surplus of foodstuffs that allowed the capital Mbanza Kongo and the Atlantic city Mbanza Nsoyo to enjoy high levels of luxury.[3] However, it would in part be this coastal city’s rise to power that would challenge the dominance of the capital, “The erosion of Sāo Salvador’s [Mbanza Kongo’s] place at the center of Kongo came about, not through Sāo Salvador’s decline, but through the rise, almost accidentally, of a new town center at Mbanza Nsoyo on the Atlantic coast.”[4]

            Thornton’s text on the civil war between the kingdoms of Kongo and Ndongo (Angola) reveal the complexities of the nation-states’ claim to sovereignty between the mid 17^th and early 18^th centuries. Rapidly growing with strength, Nsoyo began to challenge the ruling state of Mbanza Kongo in Mpemba, and the other surrounding states similarly began to unite as contesting factions. In the middle of the war in 1672, King Pedro III of Kongo emerged temporarily as victorious, but chose not to remain in Mbanza Kongo because he believed it too vulnerable to the encroaching warring states, thus “Kongo lay in ruins, its capital destroyed, its ruling group dispersed, and its politics now dictated more by Nsoyo than by internal forces. Kongo’s great centralized power, which had been at its height just a quarter-century before, was no more.”[5] During this time, the Portuguese began exploring Angola as a new possible territory of Christian conversion and resource exploitation, and this greatly unnerved Kongo leaders, who wished to remain direct rulers of the routes of trade in central Africa.

Collapse of Kongo Kingdom (Thornton, Kongo Kingdom pp. 105)

            While the states of the Kongo Kingdom warred with itself then, the Kingdom of Ndongo (Angola) slowly emerged as a new power in the region, and allegiances were dashed as the two nation-states quarreled over trade opportunities with the Portuguese. Though the kingdom of Kongo was not quite defeated, it would take decades for the empire to rebuild, and Thornton concludes his thoughts on the end of this era of Kongo history by noting, “The rivalry between Nsoyo and Kongo, combined with the instabilities of the lineage struggle and the losses to Portugal at Mbwila, had blown it [the capital Mbanza Kongo] apart. With its reconstruction by King Pedro IV some thirty years later, it was to be built upon entirely different principles and with an entirely different structure.”[6] While 1718 did not mark the immediate end of Mbanza Kongo then, it signaled the final end of its era of empire, one that would not return to a height of ascendancy like that of the Kongo Kingdom for many years to come.

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[1] David Birmingham. Trade and Conflict in Angola: The Mbundu and Their Neighbours Under the Influence of the Portuguese 1483-1790. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966, pp. 7.

[2] John K. Thornton. The Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transition 1641-1718. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1983, pp. xiv.

[3] Thornton, pp. 18.

[4] Thornton, pp. 54.

[5] Thornton, pp. 82.

[6] Thornton, pp. 83.

Ethnic, Lingual & Political Structures at Play

            Originally in chronicling a rough outline of the Kongo’s chronology a few weeks ago, I don’t believe I grasped the significance of beginning the framework with migratory patterns of the Bantu expansion. Relying largely upon the primary source Report of the Kingodm of Congo by Duarte Lopez (trans. by Filippo Pigafetta)[1] with secondary sources Jan Vansina’s Kingdom of the Savanna and John K. Thornton’s Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transition 1641-1718, in many ways it seems as if this eventual expansion into neighboring regions provides insight into the evolution of ethnic, linguistic and political factions in the Kongo.

            In regards to language patterns of the Kongo Kingdom, Vansina claims that “All peoples of the savanna speak Bantu languages. It is probably that will be impossible to divide the family of languages into subgroups on a genetic basis.”[2] As his work was written in ’68, it helps tremendously to return to some of the articles we read earlier this term on thoughts about linguistic developments of the Bantu expansion. In a 1995 article he wrote, Vansina notes that the concept of a single, primary Bantu expansion has more recently been discredited, with an emphasis now on comparative linguistics to establish historical trajectories and lingual migrations in central Africa. [3] Christopher Ehret explored two linguistic concepts, that of the tree model and the wave model, elaborating on the strength and weakness of each system. He explains that while the tree model deals well with the progression of language evolution, it does not helpfully examine cultural exchange in language patterns; and while the wave model clearly acknowledges cultural crossings and linguistic “borrowing,” it does not adeptly address the chronological narratives of language changes.[4] Taking these complications of migration patterns into careful consideration, it becomes easier to understand the development of Kikongo, Ovambo, Suundi, Mbundu, Luba-Kasai and other regional tongues as being linguistically distinct, though culturally intelligible under the Bantu language umbrella.

 The approximate locations of the sixteen Guthrie Bantu zones, including the addition of a zone J

            In surveying the development of various ethnic groups in the Kongo, it becomes almost humorous to rely on first hand accounts such as that of Pigafetta and Lopez, as their limited cultural familiarity considerably inhibits their ability to document cultural proceedings accurately. The two explorers do manage to identify six principal provinces, and I have juxtaposed Vansina’s more accurate, culturally sensitive 20^th century spellings:

Bamba – Mbamba

Pango – Mpangu

Sogno – Soyo

Batta – Mbata

Sundi – Nsundi

Pemba – Mpemba[5]

Though a number of various ethnic groups existed in central Africa before the emergence of the Kongo kingdom, notably the Lusa, Kasai, SongyeLoango, and Tyo (Teke) peoples, Vansina asserts—and Thornton confirms—that, “by 1482 Kongo was the undisputed leader among all the coastal states of Central Africa.”[6]

            Vansina, Thornton and Lopez and Pigafetta all seem to concur that the keystone of the whole political structure was the king. More specifically, Vansina asserts that similarly to many central African kingdoms, “The basic unit of the political structure was the village, and the core of every village seems to have been a localized matrileneage.”[7] Above the village, districts were ruled by officials either appointed by the king or local governors, all of whom could be removed at will by the king himself. A small aristocracy was formed with the title mani, and the state proved secure in said system of hierarchy as freemen and the aristocracy themselves would support the regime in hopes of ascending in political status.[8] The government procured money from its states through taxation and labor service, and a military structure was officially set in place in 1575, as positions were previously held by foreign soldiers or slaves from surrounding states.[9] As Vansina points out, such a system meant that a great degree of centralization was in place as

the king could remove inefficient officials at any point in time. But this also allowed for two great weaknesses of the state:” the strength of the state depended on the personality of the king, and the absence of clear rules for succession to the throne led to the constant formation of opposing factions.”[10] Ultimately, Vansina would claim that in addition to the Jaga invasion and devastation of the capital San Salvador in 1568 as well as the civil wars of the 17^th century, such weaknesses aided greatly in the failing of the Kongo kingdom.

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[1] Duarte Lopez, as told by Filippo Pigafetta. A Report of the Kingdom of Congo and of the Surrounding Countries: Drawn out of the Writings and Discourses of the Portuguese Duarte Lopez by Filippo Pigafetta, in Rome, 1591. Translated from the Italian and edited, with explanatory notes, by Margarite Hutchinson. Frank Cass & Co. LTD: London, first published in 1881, new edition 1970, pp. 43.

[2] Jan Vansina. Kingdoms of the Savanna. Madison, Milwaukee, and London: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1968, pp. 33.

[3] Jan Vansina. “New Linguistic Evidence and 'the Bantu Expansion',” in The Journal of African History, Vol. 36, No. 2 (1995), pp. 173-195.

[4] Christopher Ehret. “Bantu Expansions: Re-Envisioning a Central Problem of Early African History,” in The International Journal of African Historical Studies, Vol. 34, No. 1 (2001), pp. 5-41.

[5] Lopez and Pigafetta, pp. 43 and Vansina, Kingdoms of the Savanna pp. 41.

[6] Vansina, Kingdom of the Savanna, pp. 37.

[7] Ibid, pp. 41.

[8] Ibid, pp. 36.

[9] Ibid, pp. 38.

[10] Ibid, pp. 38.

Myth & Materiality in Kongo Historiography

“The traditional cannon of historical scholarship is clear and universally accepted in the profession: every relevant source must be taken into account, but no source is to be accepted uncritically.”[1]

-Philip D. Curtin

            To be an effective Caribbeanist, I have been told that what I really need is to be an Africanist. Searching for historical texts on the Kingdom of the Kongo has been extremely helpful in determining precisely what types of narratives I am interested in exploring for research on origins of Black Atlantic cultural systems. In particular, I realize how interests in material culture seem to guide my research initiatives, though in investigating 17^th, 18^th and 19^th century histories, there appear to be fewer textual works that deal explicitly with “fetish objects” rather than the people who fashioned and used them.

            Adam Jones’ “Thoughts on the Use of Early European Records” contends that in studying pre-twentieth century texts,  “99% of the available documentation has nothing whatever to do with material culture: it concentrates rather on political and economic information, on descriptions of flora and fauna, on general remarks about the character and physical features of Africans, or on religious beliefs.”[2] While his statistic seems quite bold (has anyone in fact had a chance to explore the sources this extensively?), it poses significant concerns about the search for studies that may provide insight on material histories in oral communities. Jones goes on to state that of the few Africans whose written legacies have survived through colonial periods, few if any wrote on material culture themselves, and that even these works do not prove particularly helpful in their brevity of detail. [3] Certainly in works on the ancient Kongo, it has been exceptionally challenging to find texts written by Kongo peoples themselves, as Christian missionizing forces did not emphasize literacy nearly as much as Islamic invaders did in more northern parts of the continent. With this in mind, it becomes clear that oral African sources may prove more reliable in studying material works.

            In Curtin’s work “Oral Traditions and African History,” he distinguishes between varied forms of orality, notably with three classifications. He differentiates between formal traditions, informal traditions and personal recollections, noting particular differences in approach to interviewing that include more guiding questions or casual discussion-like forums depending on the relationship between interviewer and participants and intended aims of the study. As Curtin further explains, “Fieldwork with oral data, however, required another kind of method. Here the historian changes from his old role as an archive-user: he becomes instead an archive-creator. His notes and tape recordings… often [become] primary sources that exist in that copy alone.”[4] While such emphasis on the responsibility of the researcher to provide translations and detailed classification systems for collected studies, this text proves more helpful in conceptualizing contemporary methods than indicative of how history has been recorded in the past. In fact, the very problem with so many historical transcripts is that translations have been poorly completed if at all, and so many cultural misunderstandings take place—as is the case with Duarte Lopez and Filippo Pigafetta’s Report of the Kingdom of Congo—that it seems it would be almost as pleasant to rely on silent material objects rather than avid and insensitive European explorers.

            In a refreshing exploration of creation myths from Dogon and Yoruba communities, Suzanne Blier considers the role of these oral traditions as historical narrative and political mappings of the region. After hearing an origin myth from the Yoruba about in which Obatala takes a prominent role, she offers that such narratives can provide assistance in chronicling historical markers in empire. In fact, this myth of origin can be historicized by noting the period in which Obatala became a central figure in the pantheon of Ifa, and Blier points out how “[myths] reflect in various ways the means through which knowledge itself is shaped. In some contexts, myths of origin may be viewed as history; in others, such narratives lie more in the realm of science.”[5] As my research delves further into the religious historical trajectory and material past of the Kongo Kingdom, perhaps this such structure of study, combining orality and materiality, will provide an effective method to explore oral histories, myth and material legacies of this central African kingdom.

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[1] Philip D. Curtin. “Oral Traditions and African History,” in Journal of the Folklore Institute, Vol. 6, No. 2/3 [Special Issue: African Oral Data Conference], 1969, pp. 138.

[2] Adam Jones. “Drink Deep, Or Taste Not: Thoughts on the Use of Early European Records in the Study of African Material Culture,” in History in Africa, Vol. 21 (1994), pp. 350.

[3] Jones, pp. 350.

[4] Curtin, pp. 140.

[5] Blier, pp. 45.

Kongo Kingdom Chronological Outlining

3000 BCE- hunters and gatherers become sedentary, turn to agriculture changes lifestyle, orientation of kinship families and concepts of territory

2000 BCE- Western Bantu expansion results in splitting of language groups in Central Africa

1560 BCE- advance beyond Cameroon

1120 BCE- using what Jan Vansina calls glottochronological estimates, relating to the diverging of languages over time, research has been done to chronicle the history of the Kongo region linguistically, beginning with the split of Aka-Mbati language group, northern Zaire and southwestern languages

950 BCE-170 CE split between southern languages, including Kongo and the Gabon-Congo community; Buan-Soan split circa 580 CE; Buan split circa 440 BCE; split with Biran circa 170 CE

330 CE- Western Bantu expansion “ends” when Maniema group splits in development

Early Kongo expansions -- circa 350 BCE -400 CE

400-600 CE – iron smelting dates back possibly as early as 5^th century for Gabon. Emergence of iron significantly changes realms of agriculture and combat

circa 600 CE – banana cultivation expands, highly successful crop in rainforest regions

1000 CE- largest distribution of farmers across the Kongo region. Economy of trade begins to take form with goods such as ivory, hides, slaves and sea shells. Vansina notes this period as a proto-period of development in the Kongo

1350-1375- The earliest origins of Kongo begin with Nimi a Nzima, ruler of Mpemba Kasi, who made a number of conquests along the south shore of the Congo River

1400- Lukeni lua Nimi, known to some as the founder of Kongo, conquers the kingdom of the Mwene Kabunga

1437- birth of King Nzinga a Nkuwu (later would become João I)

1483- Portuguese sailor Diogo Cao first visits the Kongo, though no written records remain of this first contact with the Portuguese

1490- King Nzinga Nkuwu welcomes Portuguese trade and fosters a relationship with the Europeans. He becomes João I after his conversion to Christianity, though later, it is purported that he reverted to Indigenous beliefs shortly before his death. Portugal sent carpenters, farmers, traders and other specialists to Kongo which greatly impressed Kongo royalty.

1506- João I rules until his death. His son Afonso Mvemba a Nzinga takes power and establishes Christianity as the state religion, granting the Roman Catholic Church a secure seat in the future political spectrum

1512- Mbamba became involved in a defensive war with Munza, a lord of the southern border, in which the royal army intervened, and campaigned there until 1517.

1517 These territories were humbled by Kongo armies in the sixteenth century and forced to pay tribute, as Matamba, for example, but were not fully integrated into the Kongo Kingdom.

1542- death of King Afonso

1568- Álvaro I came to the throne during another contest over the throne. His reign marked the beginning of the House of Kwili

1574- Portuguese establish the city of Luanda in Angola

1588- Duarte Lopes, a Portuguese New Christian who served as Kongo's ambassador to Rome, wrote the first explicitly historical description of Kongo.

1591- Lopes' account was revised and augmented by an Italian humanist, Filippo Pigafetta, after he interviewed Lopes in Rome

1600s- churches become well established throughout the Kongo, many citizens interested in converting to adopt “Dom” as part of their titles to indicate social position

1620s Kimpanzu, Kinlaza, and Kinkanga a Mvika form 3 realms of the Kongo Kingdom

1622-1624 Jesuit priest Mateus Cardoso makes extensive historical notes about the early kingdom in letters and historical accounts. Cardoso placed the origin of Kongo "some three hundred and fifty years ago," or 1270, which seems too early by half a century for even the most extreme assumptions of reign length and birth dates.

1641- Dutch invasion of Angola

1664- Capuchin missionary Giovanni Cavazzi da Montecuccolo wrote a detailed account of early Kongo history from his visit to the Kongo, though the text was not actually published until 1687

1665- Kongo dissolves in civil war after the battle of Ulanga (Mbwila)

1670- defeat of a combined Kongo-Portuguese army in the fall of 1670, an event henceforward celebrated by a holiday

To Time Empires & Graph Water Routes

Last week I found myself grapping with the delineation of actual and imagined geographic boundaries of ethnic groups because of contestations of citizens and (neo-)colonial forces. This week’s readings seemed to echo similar difficulties in determining the chronology of an empire and expansion of language groups. Following conversations about the role of written versus oral histories, McIntosh & McIntosh’s article explores the dissonance between various accounts of origins of the Mali empire. While European and Arabian accounts tend to pin the time frame no earlier than the 14^th century, local oral history and new archaeological evidences suggests flourishing of the Jenne-Jeno empire as early as the 8^th century. McIntosh & McIntosh propose a few possible explanations as to the disparity in range of historical origins, citing, “It is difficult to know how much of the vague reportage of sub-Saharan Western Sudan by Arab authors stems from genuine ignorance or confusion… and how much is a function of selective reporting.”[1] This question of selective chronicling of history brings to light the possibility of muted history as deliberate strategem. Certainly, for the purpose of European or Arabian historians aiming to establish their own empires as the oldest models of civilization, such tactics seem quite prudent. McIntosh & McIntosh go on to note that some historians would even believe that citizens of the local region create an imagined historical trajectory to construct the illusion of duration in a contested imperial legacy, “Triaud prefers to see Jenne as an artifact of Islam… He dismissed the oral traditions as pure fabrication on the part of the inhabitants of Jenne”[2] Once again, we are aware of the disadvantage of oral societies in Western myths of (others’) origins, and must turn to a reliance on the materiality of history in the form of archaeological remains in order to establish a more cohesive narrative thread. Perhaps it is time, as McIntosh & McIntosh and other suggest, that historians rely on more complex cognitive mappings of history, incorporating oral legacies as guides in the search for material evidence of empires.

            In reference to my region of interest in the ancient Kongo empire, it becomes fundamental to consider the role of water systems in the development of economy and exploration by outsiders. One of the explorers I am beginning to research is Edward Glave, who worked closely under the guidance of Henry M. Stanley in the late 19^th century, and traveled from the Congo river basin bordering the Atlantic Ocean into the interior of the continent beneath Rwanda and Burundi. 

Congo River

The Congo River formed the main route of their journey in the late 1890s, thereby connecting outside explorers as well as ethnic groups spanning across Congo, Angola and the Democratic Republic of Congo. In beginning to map Glave’s sojourn, it seems peculiar why he would branch off from this course and follow a (potentially less developed) land route, but perhaps this dimension of the journey is when the narrative of exploration becomes complicated and more compelling.

http://maps.google.com/?mid=1285604329

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[1] Roderick J. McIntosh and Susan Keech McIntosh. “The Inland Niger Delta Before the Empire of Mali: Evidence from Jenne-Jeno,” in The Journal of African History, Vol. 22, No. 1 (1981), pp. 2

[2] McIntosh & McIntosh, pp. 10

Imagined Geographies, Metaphysical Materials

            How does define one the geographical boundaries of a region once delineated by its native residents, later redetermined by imperial forces and, most recently, by contemporary ethnic groups and neo-colonial states? One theme that seems to be emerging in researching the historic Kongo region of Africa is how nebulous the term seems to be in outlining actual nation-states and ethnic communities. Most clearly, the nations that speak Kongo or Kikonogo today are the Democratic Republic of Congo, and parts of Congo and Angola (http://www.everyculture.com/wc/Brazil-to-Congo-Republic-of/Bakongo.html). However, as there remain dispersed peoples who speak various creoles or dialects of the Kongo language, it is possible that bordering nations may also be home to descendants of the former kingdom. To speak generally of the Kongo region’s topography then, it appears to be primarily tropical rainforest and deciduous forest. This would result in essentially hot, humid seasons all year round.

Roughly delineated by nation, the more central parts

of this map including Democratic Republic of

Kongo, Angola and Congo are the regions that

historically made up the Kongo Kingdom.

In considering the geo-political implications of such a climate, what comes to mind is the difficulty in logistics of trade between communities living in dense forest regions. While there would be an abundance of wood for constructing buildings, ritual and functional works, the humidity would have aided in the decomposition much more rapidly than in a savanna, brush or desert region. This leads one to consider other materials employed in the crafting of artifacts, perhaps metallurgy or basketry for instance.

            Metallurgy as a medium can span a range of works in architecture, warfare artillery, domestic retainers, jewelry and ritual articles, as Eugenia W. Herbert explains in great detail in her piece on the importance of copper in ancient West Africa. Particularly in noting the ritual elements in manufacture, Herbert explains that young Zaghawa women were given headdresses of copper for their nuptial affairs, explaining that “aside from its ornamental and status value, copper was also considered to have amuletic or magical properties, in the first case encouraging fertility, in the second warding off danger” (183). She continues by pointing out that while certain metals such as copper may not have proven the most desirable in weaponry for its excessive malleable nature, they were fashioned nonetheless as “weapons made entirely of brass or copper, such as cutlasses, execution swords and axes, appear to have a uniquely ritual function, and belong in the category of kingly regalia and ensigns of power” (185). This discussion of functional materials also possessing inherent metaphysical energies presents a fascinating insight into the complexity of materials chosen in ritual artifacts, something I would like to explore further in researching historic sacred arts of the Kongo.

Research Modalities: Reconsidering Oral and Material Legacies

            As Peter Robertshaw establishes, historians have largely depended upon written history to chronicle an African past—an element that remains challenging in that many repositories of knowledge are transmitted orally in Africa. The hierarchizing of methods in recording history has resulted in a debasing of other narrative structures, as Robertshaw notes, “The first generation of African historians tended to assume that oral traditions were relatively uncomplicated accounts of what had happened in the past…” (273). He goes on to stress the importance of alternate methods of chronicling history, and in reading Schmidt and Walz’s work, we begin to explore how the past is just as much assembled as it is experienced. That is to say, historians determine what is included in a community’s historical narrative, raising the question of responsibility for the representation of any given demographic. If African scholars began to narrate historical trajectories then, would they rely any more upon local oral histories than European and Islamic historians? Or would the tension in balancing the role of material and oral histories persist in the methodology?

            Another element to consider in the importance of historical materiality is what classifies exactly as “material”? Much of the African artwork made of wood, shells, cloth will not have survived decades, much less centuries of weather conditions, which does not leave behind a great deal of resources to study. Does this imply that oral histories serve as the only method of recording a history for African art? Or is it possible to consider newer, more contemporary artworks and trace the legacy of the pieces through conversations with local historians? If we are consider how to re-represent African history, is it enough to challenge methodological training in the discipline of history? Will new modalities of research reconceptualize African histories altogether?