Oualata (also known as “Walata”), located in Southeast Mauritania, is one town out of a string of 4 in total, coined by UNESCO as the Ksour (ksar - singular, ksour - plural; a Maghrebi Arabic term meaning “fortified village”) of Ouadane, Chinguetti, Tichitt and Oualata. The city of Oualata became a popular caravan city, a trading hub, between the 12th and 16th centuries CE. [1] Today it is renowned for its decorative vernacular houses.
The medieval Moroccan traveler and scholar, Ibn Battuta, wrote of his stay in Oualata in his Travels in Asia and Africa 1325-1354, saying:
“Thus we reached the town of Iwalatan [Walata] after a journey from Sijilmasa of two months to a day. Iwalatan is the northernmost province of the Negroes, and the sultan’s representative there was one Farba Husayn, ‘farba’ meaning deputy [in their Ianguage]. When we arrived there, the merchants deposited their goods in an open square, where the blacks undertook to guard them, and went to the farba. He was sitting on a carpet under an archway, with his guards before him carrying lances and bows in their hands, and the headmen of the Massufa behind him. The merchants remained standing in front of him while he spoke to them through an interpreter, although they were close to him, to show his contempt for them. It was then that I repented of having come to their country, because of their lack of manners and their contempt for the whites.
…Later on the mushrif [inspector] of Iwalatan, whose name was Mansha Ju, invited all those who had come with the caravan to partake of his hospitality. At first I refused to attend, but my companions urged me very strongly, so I went with the rest. The repast was served–some pounded millet mixed with a little honey and milk, put in a half calabash shaped like a large bowl. The guests drank and retired. I said to them, ‘Was it for this that the black invited us?’ They answered, ‘Yes; and it is in their opinion the highest form of hospitality.’ This convinced me that there was no good to be hoped for from these people, and I made up my mind to travel [back to Morocco at once] with the pilgrim caravan from Iwalatan. Afterwards, however, I thought it best to go to see the capital of their king [of the kingdom of Mali, at the city of Mali].”
He seems to have met an hateful sentiment against “white” North Africans from someone within the city. Nonetheless, he did not hate the blacks. Also by his own account (and as seen in the next excerpt), this city was inhabited by the Masufa Berbers, a tribe not known much about. The demographics of Oualata, being mostly black, could mean the Masufa are one of the few heavily black Berber tribes (the main most notably being Tuareg people), or they simply could have been the typical “white” Berbers.
University of Georgia historian Timothy Cleaveland notes in his book Becoming Walata: A History of Saharan Social Formation and Transformation (2002), on page 176, that the city was inhabited by a mix of the original Mande-speaking peoples (also inhabited by Soninke people as well), and later migrations of Zenaga-speaking Berbers, followed even further down the line by Arab or “Arabized” nomads. Although, he notes that the composition of the population didn’t change very much. [2]
The famous Israeli historian and expert of African Islamic history Nehemia Levtzion says in his book Ancient Ghana and Mali (1973) on page 147 that “Walata” had a mixed population of [”white”] Berbers and “Sudanese”; blacks. On pages 80 and 158, we read that it fell from its trading popularity to the city of Timbuktu in the second half of the 14th century. [3]
This is what Ibn Battuta had to say of his stay in the city of Oualata, its men and the quality of their women:
“My stay at Iwalatan lasted about fifty days; and I was shown honor and entertained by its inhabitants. It is an excessively hot place, and boasts a few small date-palms, in the shade of which they sow watermelons. Its water comes from underground waterbeds at that point, and there is plenty of mutton to be had. The garments of its inhabitants, most of whom belong to the Massufa tribe, are of fine Egyptian fabrics.
Their women are of surpassing beauty, and are shown more respect than the men. The state of affairs amongst these people is indeed extraordinary. Their men show no signs of jealousy whatever; no one claims descent from his father, but on the contrary from his mother’s brother. A person’s heirs are his sister’s sons, not his own sons. This is a thing which I have seen nowhere in the world except among the Indians of Malabar. But those are heathens; these people are Muslims, punctilious in observing the hours of prayer, studying books of law, and memorizing the Koran. Yet their women show no bashfulness before men and do not veil themselves, though they are assiduous in attending the prayers. Any man who wishes to marry one of them may do so, but they do not travel with their husbands, and even if one desired to do so her family would not allow her to go.
The women there have ‘friends’ and ‘companions’ amongst the men outside their own families, and the men in the same way have ‘companions’ amongst the women of other families. A man may go into his house and find his wife entertaining her ‘companion’ but he takes no objection to it. One day at Iwalatan I went into the qadi’s house, after asking his permission to enter, and found with him a young woman of remarkable beauty. When I saw her I was shocked and turned to go out, but she laughed at me, instead of being overcome by shame, and the qadi said to me ‘Why are you going out? She is my companion.’ I was amazed at their conduct, for he was a theologian and a pilgrim [to Mecca] to boot. I was told that he had asked the sultan’s permission to make the pilgrimage that year with his ‘companion’–whether this one or not I cannot say–but the sultan would not grant it.”
In a quite hilarious situation, Battuta is surprised by this beautiful woman and attempts to flee like a nervous boy. And he does end up leaving the city of Oualata, in frustration, for Mali to see the king, and notes that it takes 24 days to reach if the caravan pushes on rapidly. [4]
Citation 4 is the text provided by Fordham University’s IHSP.
The renowned 15th-16th century Moroccan Berber-Andalusi writer, Leo Africanus, notes in his Descrittione dell’Africathat:
“The fourth part of Africa which is called the land of Negros, beginneth eastward at the kingdome of Gaoga, from whence it extendeth west as far as Gualata.” (pg 124)
“I* my selfe saw fifteene kingdoms of the Negros: howbeit there are many more, which although I saw not with mine owne eies, yet are they by the Negros sufficiently knowen and frequented. Their names there fore (beginning from the west, and so proceeding Eastward and Southward) are these following: Gualata, Ghinea, Melli, Tombuto, Gago, Guber, Agadez, Cano, Cafena, Zegzeg, Zanfara, Guangara, Borno, Gaogo, Nube.” (pg 128) [5]
The last two citations are unrelated pieces written to explain what exactly this “Gaoga” kingdom was, seeing that it isn’t written of otherwise, for anyone interested.
The beautiful ancient city of Oualata, Mauritania remains a notable tourist attraction today. An hour-long documentary was made about the muralist women of Oualata who decorate these houses, titled “En attandant les hommes”, in 2007 by director Katy Ndiaye.
Seewww.walata.org if you plan to visit. Below are some extra pictures of the city (one of them shows muralists at work). Enjoy.
5. Leo Africanus, The History and Description of Africa and of the Notable Things Therein Contained: Volume 1, pgs 124 and 128, published by B. Franklin, 1896
The Art of Africa is a casualty of colonial exploitation, surviving principally in the museums of other countries. ~ Nadine Gordimer
“My objective in this work is to document an extraordinary art form - vernacular art and architecture in West Africa - that is not transportable and therefore not seen in museums around the world. It is an attempt to capture the unseen Africa, a glimpse into the homes and into the spirit of very proud and dignified peoples. In much the same way as I photographed the art of Ndebele women, I have drawn on my personal affinity for the art itself, for methods, design and form, rather than the socio-anthropological or political realities of a people or continent in dilemma. These images portray a unique tradition of Africa, a celebration of an indigenous rural culture in which the women are the artists and the home her canvas.”
I made a similar blog post to this a while back, about the vernacular architecture of Oualata/Walata, Mauritania (in fact, the second and last photos are of Oualata).
You can read it here (not sure why, but when I format the link to my post in that text, it keeps redirecting to some old blog for whatever reason):
The Sahara is no more an arbitrary boundary than the Atlantic.
Seriously! And maybe I’m not thinking exactly what you’re thinking (edit: they were speaking a bit in the opposite way but not completely objecting to what I’m saying, being that I do mention the Sahara is in fact a boundary in many ways, just not monumentally), but… Too many people, and even scholars, seem to think so when it comes to interactions between so-called “Sub-Saharan” Africans – blacks, Negroes, Sudanese, etc. – and North Africans, and especially the sight of black people above the Sahel (wow!) or even the surprise from black intellectuals of “non-black” people, e.g. Berbers who many simply classify as Mediterranean – in the case of Sub-Saharan Africa, mostly Tuaregs, living below the Sahara. A lot of people like to classify them as Arabs also, this is not true.
Really, I’ve seen in contemporary times and learned historically of plenty black people [who were not foreigners, slaves, or of slave-descendant populations] from places like Morocco or even Tunisia, and on the contrary plenty “non-black” people from Mali or Niger where you wouldn’t expect to see anything but Negroes. Whether this be from Greek, Arab, or Maghrebi sources. This I’m saying all in regards to trade, war, slavery, general interaction, and actual habitation; really the regional history in all areas. Some points are barriers by default, but the entirety truly isn’t some monumental boundary between two worlds or two peoples; surely not a skin color boundary for either side, at least not literally everywhere across the Sahara.
That’s something I really plan to discuss when I can in the future: Tuaregs, “Moors” (pre-Islam; think Greek), Islamic Africa, Libyoaethiopes or even with Ancient Egypt’s demographics and all that good stuff. I think I did mention this just a little bit on my blog about Oualata (Walata), Mauritania as well with some writings from Ibn Battuta.
With that in mind, this notion that the Sahara is a “boundary” is typically associated with the ignorant belittling of African history, especially in West Africa. From the moment you learn of Islam in Africa for instance, it should become quite apparent that West Africa or the Swahili Coast (the Sahelian kingdoms – Mali, Ghana, Songhai – Wolof or Hausa states, Kilwa Kisiwani, Warsangali Sultanate, etc.) has a fruitful, interactive history in itself and with other parts of the world that is without argument worthy of praise.
Overall, people should really just study the entire Sahara-Sahel region more intensively. As you can also probably tell I’m most biased in favor of Islamic West Africa and the Maghreb as prime examples. And as someone who most specifically deals with ethnohistory, I’d say exploring the demographics and how race/skin color affected the regional history is a good idea as well. Maybe scholars like UMich Islamic history professor Dr. Rudolph Bilal Ware, or Chicago anthropologist Dr. Dana Reynolds-Marniche (to be quite honest, she is a bit Afrocentric in some areas so keep an open mind and open eyes). Maybe a good book, although it deals more-so with slavery, would be Black Morocco.
@internetnawab, Africans have had boats to traverse bodies of water for thousands of years. Africans have had legs, navigation skills, and the ability to survive in desert climates for millions of years.
Bodies of water are not barriers by default. The indigenous populations of the Pacific islands (which inhabit a stretch of ocean that dwarfs the Atlantic) are clear evidence of this. There are scholars who demonstrate that Africans had similar inclinations to explore the Atlantic rather than be bound by it.
Similarly, deserts are not barriers by default. There are populations that inhabit deserts globally–including the Sahara–and they have done so for thousands of years.
Positing the Sahara–or the Atlantic–as a barrier to Africans without qualification is dangerous. And I don’t often see people saying that of other extreme geographic phenomena that had the potential to influence migration patterns but were ultimately overcome. Why don’t we talk about “sub-Himalayan Asia” or “trans-Pacific Asia” or “sub-Chihuahuan America” or “super-Gobian Asia” or “sub-Caucasian Europe” or “sub-Alpine Europe?” I could go on.
We don’t talk about those regions in those ways because the implications of the term “sub-Saharan Africa” are overly racist in ways that are not applicable to anywhere else in the world.
I’ve addressed this kind of response before, but basically if you have no idea what I’m saying, maybe an ideologically-driven response where you refer to an imaginary history that includes assumptions of “default” states for humanity isn’t a great idea.
Might I say, from talking to @jugurthasrevenge personally about this matter, you honestly do have very little of an idea. She gets what I am saying, and what you are saying, it simply isn’t exactly what’s being said. I slightly misinterpeted the post myself. I won’t disclose private messages, but what I will let you know for sure is that she did in fact agree with me once we cleared things up (even giving the specific example of Hausa and Berber turbans being the same). The misunderstanding and debate is a simple matter of context. Although, her thing is that the Sahara [and Sahel if you want to be extra technical] is a barrier for Sub-Saharan “black” populations to the extent of their knowledge of navigation and their traveling caliber, so to say. And like I said before, the same goes for non-black North Africans; they most definitely aren’t limited to areas above the Sahel. And no black intellectual should be surprised to see a medium-toned person with wavy hair living in, say, Mali or Niger (the diverse Tuareg demographics for instance). And being mad that a certain North African population or some other foreign population was more fit to travel below the Sahara than those Sub-Saharan groups were fit to travel above the Sahara will do you no good. That’s just history. And with that being said, it isn’t fair to belittle someone else’s abilities simply because so & so isn’t on the same level. To say the least, it went either way, just in proper context.
At the same time, things like the Afrocentrist crap about a global Moorish empire or that the Moors built Europe, similarly trying to deny the obvious existance of non-black Africans overall or referring to them as Arabs, that African-Americans are descendants of ancient Egyptians (whether “black” or not–my thing is simply the context), claiming the Greeks and Romans were black simply because you saw a Roman sculpture of a Negro, pre-Colombian contact between Africans and indigenous Americans, or even the horse shit I am in the midst of destroying: the claim that Native Americans were black and the “white man” destroyed the “true history” so the “Injuns” could help take our land from us, etc… All that stuff is ridiculous. Not ridiculous as a possibility (besides the visually obvious things), rather as a serious claim, or even worse, an assertion; this simply because these theories are riddled with pseudo-history, and lack objective evidence. All of this crazy talk coming out of the Black Consciousness community is why this subject can be touchy, if the right scholars respond. Even for ancient Egypt, as I remember now that I mentioned, it’s all about the context with her thoughts on this subject. We agreed that obviously the Nile is a different story. Navigating a shared river valley is much less a hassle compared to navigating the Sahara or the Atlantic.
And honestly, enough with the fallacious mumbo jumbo about “Why is there no sub-[blank] Europe/Asia/etc.?” That’s like telling me the sky is blue, and my response is some speculative bullshit about “Well what if the color blue is actually purple?” Simply asking why something isn’t the way it is (in this case your asking why we don’t use similar terminology for other continents as we do with Africa) is not an argument for why you think otherwise.
Yes, deserts and waterways aren’t defaulted barriers with color lines and signs on either side saying “no [insert color here] allowed.” However, being able to row a boat across the Mediterranean, or to arrive in northeastern Libya by camelback, doesn’t mean such an ability and its outcome was or is an objective reality (specifically not for an Afrocentric revisionist context). I’m a simple man; all I ask for is a lack of bias, not using speculation as an argument, objective evidence, and clear citations.
is “chai” a TYPE of tea??! bc in Hindi/Urdu, the word chai just means tea
its like spicy cinnamon tea instead of bland gross black tea
I think the chai that me and all other Muslims that I know drink is just black tea
i mean i always thought chai was just another word for tea?? in russian chai is tea
why don’t white people just say tea
do they mean it’s that spicy cinnamon tea
why don’t they just call it “spicy cinnamon tea”
the spicy cinnamon one is actually masala chai specifically so like
there’s literally no reason to just say chai or chai
They don’t know better. To them “chai tea” IS that specific kind of like, creamy cinnamony tea. They think “chai” is an adjective describing “tea”.
What English sometimes does when it encounters words in other languages that it already has a word for is to use that word to refer to a specific type of that thing. It’s like distinguishing between what English speakers consider the prototype of the word in English from what we consider non-prototypical.
(Sidenote: prototype theory means that people think of the most prototypical instances of a thing before they think of weirder types. For example: list four kinds of birds to yourself right now. You probably started with local songbirds, which for me is robins, blue birds, cardinals, starlings. If I had you list three more, you might say pigeons or eagles or falcons. It would probably take you a while to get to penguins and emus and ducks, even though those are all birds too. A duck or a penguin, however, is not a prototypical bird.)
“Chai” means tea in Hindi-Urdu, but “chai tea” in English means “tea prepared like masala chai” because it’s useful to have a word to distinguish “the kind of tea we make here” from “the kind of tea they make somewhere else”.
“Naan” may mean bread, but “naan bread” means specifically “bread prepared like this” because it’s useful to have a word to distinguish between “bread made how we make it” and “bread how other people make it”.
We also sometimes say “liege lord” when talking about feudal homage, even though “liege” is just “lord” in French, or “flower blossom” to describe the part of the flower that opens, even though when “flower” was borrowed from French it meant the same thing as blossom.
We also do this with place names: “brea” means tar in Spanish, but when we came across a place where Spanish-speakers were like “there’s tar here”, we took that and said “Okay, here’s the La Brea tar pits”.
Or “Sahara”. Sahara already meant “giant desert,” but we call it the Sahara desert to distinguish it from other giant deserts, like the Gobi desert (Gobi also means desert btw).
Languages tend to use a lot of repetition to make sure that things are clear. English says “John walks”, and the -s on walks means “one person is doing this” even though we know “John” is one person. Spanish puts tense markers on every instance of a verb in a sentence, even when it’s abundantly clear that they all have the same tense (”ayer [yo] caminé por el parque y jugué tenis” even though “ayer” means yesterday and “yo” means I and the -é means “I in the past”). English apparently also likes to use semantic repetition, so that people know that “chai” is a type of tea and “naan” is a type of bread and “Sahara” is a desert. (I could also totally see someone labeling something, for instance, pan dulce sweetbread, even though “pan dulce” means “sweet bread”.)
Also, specifically with the chai/tea thing, many languages either use the Malay root and end up with a word that sounds like “tea” (like té in Spanish), or they use the Mandarin root and end up with a word that sounds like “chai” (like cha in Portuguese).
So, can we all stop making fun of this now?
Okay and I’m totally going to jump in here about tea because it’s cool. Ever wonder why some languages call tea “chai” or “cha” and others call it “tea” or “the”?
It literally all depends on which parts of China (or, more specifically, what Chinese) those cultures got their tea from, and who in turn they sold their tea to.
The Portuguese imported tea from the Southern provinces through Macau, so they called tea “cha” because in Cantonese it’s “cha”. The Dutch got tea from Fujian, where Min Chinese was more heavily spoken so it’s “thee” coming from “te”. And because the Dutch sold tea to so much of Europe, that proliferated the “te” pronunciation to France (”the”), English (”tea”) etc, even though the vast majority of Chinese people speak dialects that pronounce it “cha” (by which I mean Mandarin and Cantonese which accounts for a lot of the people who speak Chinese even though they aren’t the only dialects).
And “chai”/”chay” comes from the Persian pronunciation who got it from the Northern Chinese who then brought it all over Central Asia and became chai.
