TRANSFORMATION OF “OLD” SLAVERY INTO

TRANSFORMATION OF “OLD” SLAVERY INTO ATLANTIC SLAVERY: CAPE
VERDE ISLANDS, C. 1500–1879
By
Lumumba Hamilcar Shabaka
A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
History- Doctor of Philosophy
2013
ABSTRACT
TRANSFORMATION OF “OLD” SLAVERY INTO ATLANTIC SLAVERY: CAPE
VERDE ISLANDS, C. 1500–1879
By
Lumumba Hamilcar Shabaka
This dissertation explores how the Atlantic slave trade integrated the Cape Verde
archipelago into the cultural, economic, and political milieu of Upper Guinea Coast
between 1500 and 1879. The archipelago is about 300 miles off the coast of Senegal,
West Africa. The Portuguese colonized the “uninhabited” archipelago in 1460 and soon
began trading with the mainland for slaves and black African slaves became the majority,
resulting in the first racialized Atlantic slave society. Despite cultural changes, I argue
that cultural practices by the lower classes, both slaves and freed slaves, were
quintessentially “Guinean.” Regional fashion and dress developed between the
archipelago and mainland with adorning and social use of panu (cotton cloth). In
particular, I argue Afro-feminine aesthetics developed in the islands by freed black
women that had counterparts in the mainland, rather than mere creolization.
Moreover, the study explores the social instability in the islands that led to the
exile of liberated slaves, slaves, and the poor, the majority of whom were of African
descent as part of the Portuguese efforts to organize the Atlantic slave trade in the Upper
th
Guinea Coast. With the abolition of slavery in Cape Verde in the 19 century, Portugal
used freed slaves and the poor as foot soldiers and a labor force to consolidate
“Portuguese Guinea.” Many freed slaves resisted this mandatory service. The transition
to “legitimate trade” also sent “Cape Verdeans” merchants to the “Portuguese Guinea” to
pursue commercial activities, while maintaining commercial and family ties with the
archipelago, which reinforced cross-cultural exchange.
DEDICATION:
Pa juventudi di Kabuverdi, specialmenti kes diskonhecidu,
UNIDADI E LUTA, NHÔS ÓRA DJA TXIGA!
iv
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, nothing in my life would be possible without the sacrifices of my loving and
supportive mother. I am eternally grateful for her selflessness in providing all that she did
despite our limited resources. Es trabadju é simbulu di nha luta, mison ki nha herói
Amílcar Cabral dexa pa nôs tudu.
To my wife Marie Alexandre-Shabaka, who, without her unfailing support, I
could not have finished this dissertation. To my beautiful and energetic children, Amara
and Amilcar, I am sorry that Papa did not always play with you when you wanted, but I
hope that this modest work will make you proud someday.
Also, I want to thank my committee members, Dr. Nwando Achebe, Dr. Peter
Beattie, and Dr. Folu Ogundimu. I am very grateful to Dr. Walter Hawthorne, my
advisor, for his staunch support in this long and arduous journey. Since the day I met him
at Ohio University, he has shown interest in my work and encouraged me to apply to
Michigan State University. I thank the History Department for the graduate assistantships
that made my graduate studies possible.
I am grateful to our Africanist bibliographers, Dr. Peter Limb and Dr. Joe Lauer,
who were always responsive to my requests. I also want to thank the staff at the Michigan
State University Library for their assistance in finding materials so desperately needed.
Many thanks for the financial support of the U.S. Department of Education with
the generous fellowship of the Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad; as
well as the African Studies at Michigan State University award of Foreign Language
Areas Studies to study Mandinka; and the Center for Advanced Study of International
v
Development at Michigan State University to study Portuguese during an intensive
summer program to hone my language skills. I also thank Dr. Jorge Sousa Brito, rector of
the Piaget University of Cape Verde, for writing me the letters of affiliation.
In Cape Verde, I want to thank all my family and friends, who supported me in so
many ways it would take another volume to name them all: my uncle Caetano da Graça
Cardoso, his wife Mafalda Cardoso, my cousin, Ornela Veronica Ferreira Cardoso,
Fatinha Cardoso, Soraia Cardoso, Daniel Cardoso, Silvana Semedo, Noel Carvalhal
Fernandes, Ludimilla Cardoso, Moises Carvalhal Fernandes, Maria Dosanjos Fernandes,
Joe Cardoso, Indira Tatiana Tavares, Flavio Delgado, Dr. José Carlos Gomes dos Anjos.
Tudu mosinhus e mosinhas di Varzea, specialmenti CV Wine. Nhôs tudu obrigadon pa
nhôs morabeza!
I also want to thank the staff at the Arquivo Histório Nacional de Cabo Verde,
especially the President, Sandra Mascarenhas, and the staff--- Sandra Helena Gomes
Rosa, Carla Gomes, Madalena M. Varela, Maria da Luz, Eugenia Miranda, António
Sanches, Maria Teixeira, Maria Odete Neves, Roberto Lopes, Vital de Pina, Samira Sá
Nogueira, Felisberta Landim, Maria José Almeida, Ana Mafalda Monteiro, José Maria
Almeida. Carla Gomes was extremely helpful with some of the paleography.
At the Biblioteca Nacional de Cabo Verde, I thank Joaquim Morais, the
president, and the staff, especially Sheila Antunes. Muitu brigadu!
To my in-laws, thank you for your support, especially Maryse Alexandre, Saber
Anosier, Suline Guerrier, Antoine Guerrier, Jean Alexandre, and his wife, Sheila
Alexandre.
vi
Of my professors, colleagues, and friends, I want to thank Dr. Bala Saho, and his
wife Binta Sanyang, Dr. Jill Kelley, Dr. Mathew Pettway, Dr. Peter K. Mendy, Dr.
Richard Lobban, Dr. Carolyn Fluehr-Lobban, Dr. Jean G. Blaise, Dr. Pierre Orelus,
Salahudin Omowale Matteos, Professor Darius A. Burton, Dr. James Pritchett, Victor
Manuel Carvalho de Melo (“Toto”), and Dr. Solomon Addis Getahun for their support
and friendship. I salute Professor Ernest Wambia-dia-Wamba for being a deep source of
inspiration.
Many thanks to my entire family, especially my sisters in the states, Estela
Rodrigues, Benvinda Fernandes, Isolete Fernandes, Ester Fernandes, Raquel Rosario, and
to my cousins Ezekiel Vasconcelos, Danny Vasconcelos, Alcindo Vasconcelos. Special
gratitude is extended to Dr. Assan Sarr for reading two chapters, and providing very
critical feedback and encouragement. I also thank Dr. Mariana P. Candido for reading
and commenting on a chapter and her unsolicited show of support. Of course, all errors
are solely mine.
vii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF TABLES ……………………………………………………………………...x
LIST OF FIGURES……………………………………………………………………..xi
INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………………….……....1
Historiography……………………………………………………………………….....6
Summary of Chapters…………………………………………………………………27
CHAPTER 1
COTTON AND DRESS IN UPPER GUNIEA COAST AND CAPE VERDE,
c.1500-c.1600………………………………………….………………………………..31
Islam and Changing African Aesthetics on the Upper Guinea Coast……………...41
Early Atlantic Slave Trade in the Upper Guinea Coast…………………………….46
CHAPTER 2
PANU: SLAVE TRADE, DRESS, AND FASHION IN CAPE VERDE,
c.1600-c.1800s………………………………………………………………………….75
Panu: Economic and Social Affects in Cape Verde…………………………………81
Female Dress and Fashion in Cape Verde Islands, c. 1647–c. 1721………………..93
Male Dress and Fashion in Cape Verde Islands, c. 1647–c. 1721…………………103
Women and Dress in Cape Verde during 1800s………………………...................111
CHAPTER 3
SOCIAL UNEASE IN A SLAVE SOCIETY: FLIGHT, ‘SOCIAL
BANDITRY’, AND RELIGIOUS HETERODOXY, c.1700-c.1800…………….......126
Rise of Brankus di Terra: Fear, “Race,” and Governance………………………...127
Popular Religion in Santiago Island………………………………………………..155
Precarious Control: Famine and Selling Free People……………………………..174
CHAPTER 4
ENDING SLAVERY IN CAPE VERDE: MANUMISSION, CRIME, AND
PUNISHMENT, c. 1856-c.1876 …...…………………………………………………184
Creation of the Junta………………………………………………………………...187
Manumission and Ambivalent Freedom……………………………………………192
Crime and Punishment: Slaves, Libertos, and (Poor) Free………………………..214
CHAPTER 5
KINSHIP, ABOLITION, COMMERCE AND COLONIZATION OF
PORTUGUESE GUNIEA, c.1830-1879………………………………………………228
State of Portuguese Guinea…………………………………………………………..232
Kinship and Connections between Cape Verdeans and Luso-Africans/Africans...236
Portuguese Hunger for Land and Access to Rivers………………………………...253
viii
CONCLUSION…………………………………………………………………………281
APPENDIX……………………………………………………………………………..285
Glossary….…………………………………………………………………………….286
BIBLIOGRAPHY…..…………………………………………………………………..289
ix
LIST OF TABLES
Table 1. Slave Children Recorded in the County Administration of the
City of Praia, 1863, March 1-30, 1863………………………………………………..197
Table 2. Pedro Semedo Cardozo’s Slaves’ Background ……………………………204
Table 3. Francisco Alberto Azevedo’s Slaves………………………………………..212
x
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure 1. Cape Verde Islands and Upper Guinea Coast………………………………3
Figure 2. Clothing Styles of Wolof Kingdom, Late Seventeenth Century…………..32
Figure 3. Clothing Styles of Women of Kazegut (Bijago Island), c.1728……………32
Figure 4. Panu di terra………………………………………………………….............61
Figure 5. Inhabitants of the Cape Verde Islands …………………………………....99
Figure 6. “A Man and Woman of the Island of St. John (Brava)”………………...106
Figure 7. “A Man and Woman of the island of St. John in their Best habits”……106
Figure 8. “Habits des negres du cap verd”………………………………………….109
Figure 9. Inhabitants of Cape Verde Islands………………………………………..110
Figure 10. “Woman and Children of Porto-Grande”……………………………....116
Figure 11. “Felupe”……………………………………………………………...........122
Figure 12. Deceased body of Blim Blim, Papel Ruler of Biombo wrapped
in panus for burial, w/d………………………………………………………………162
Figure 13. Esteiradas de Bananeiras de Santiago, w/d……………………………...162
Figure 14. Eighteenth Century Dutch Engraving of the Island of Santo Antão…..178
Figure 15. Three Social Classes in Cape Verde:
Slave-Owner, Freed Slave, and Slave………………………………………………...185
Figure 16. Sá de Bandeira, Praça of Mindelo………………………………………..189
Figure 17. A Mandinka Chief, 1850………………………………………………….265
xi
INTRODUCTION
In 1580, André Donelha, an elite “Cape Verdean,” was in Casão, a trading center
on West Africa’s Gambia River. There he came across Gaspar Vaz, a tailor and buttonmaker, who was a slave, owned by his neighbor on Santiago Island. Donelha was uneasy
to find the slave dressed in “Mandinka clothing,” that is, a Muslim robe probably made
from panu. Vaz assured Donelha that he was a Christian, which he was known back in
Santiago. To prove this, he lifted his robe to show his doublet (a European style close
fitting jacket) and Virgin Rosary, which he used, everyday in prayer to the Christian God.
Vaz said he was the nephew of the Mandinka satigi (chief) of the trading town and did
not want to offend his uncle. However, he promised Donelha that once he became chief,
he would revert to his Christian identity. As a satigi, Vaz said he would send slaves to
Cape Verde to learn Christianity and he would retire in the islands. They quickly became
friends. Using his Mandinka name, Vaz became an interpreter for Donelha in the Gambia
River region. Vaz bought commodities for Donelha at lower prices than were charged to
strangers. In short, Vaz was a cultural broker, someone with deep knowledge of two
cultures and who was able to shift identities in order to operate effectively between them.
He was at once Muslim and Christian, slave and free, “Cape Verdean” and coastal
African, Kriolo (a person from a trading center and conversant in the Kriolo language of
trade) and Mandinka. These were the lingua francas between rivers of Gambia and
Cacheu during this period.
This story reveals several surprising things about Cape Verdean society during the
period. First, this story illustrates a vibrant trade in slaves and other goods between the
1
islands and mainland (known as Upper Guinea) enabled a back-and-forth movement of
goods, ideas, and peoples. Many people were just as knowledgeable as Vaz about the
coast as the islands (which, I will argue, were culturally part of a single broad region).
Second, during this period, people expressed their identities in a number of ways,
particularly through the clothes they wore. Cultural brokers like Vaz changed identities as
quickly as they changed shirts, demonstrating who they were through dress as well as
language and professions of religious affiliation. Third, this flexibility of identity led to
cross-cultural exchanges that cannot be summed up under the oft-used term
“creolization.” Vaz, a Mandinka, was a slave in Cape Verde but a freeman in his
homeland.. In fact, there were slaves who became wealthy and eventually freed
themselves in Cape Verde, returning to the coast as merchants. Therefore, African slaves
and their descendants, while appearing to become ladinos (acclimatized to European
culture), still carried their cultural practices, although modified, in Cape Verde. Donelha
knew Vaz as the slave of his neighbor, and thus it is doubtful that Vaz was proclaiming a
Christian identity to other slaves. This was the idiom of Luso-Africans, group that
Donelha belonged to, and not necessarily slaves and freed slaves.
2
Figure 1. Cape Verde Islands and Upper Guinea Coast - For interpretation of the
references to color in this and all other figures, the reader is referred to the electronic
version of this dissertation.
(Source: http://placesbook.org/cape-verde)
Cape Verde was the first slave society in which Europeans were on top of the
1
social ladder and black Africans, as slaves, were at the bottom. From Santiago Island,
the Portuguese initiated an increasingly intense scale of trade, in which slaves became the
primary commodity. Given this reality, what type of interaction did Cape Verde have
with mainland Upper Guinea during the Atlantic slave trade era? How did Africans and
their descendants react to slavery in the archipelago? What dress and fashion did slaves
and freed slaves employ? What were the religious beliefs and practices? In answering
these questions, I examine the interaction between the coastal mainland from Senegal
River to Sierra Leone regions, called by various names such as Upper Guinea Coast,
Western Africa, Rios de Guiné, Rios de Guiné de Cabo Verde, and the Cape Verde
1
Trevor P. Hall, “The Role of Cape Verde Islanders in Organizing and Operating
Maritime Trade between West Africa and Iberian Territories, 1441–1616.” PhD diss.,
John Hopkins University, 1993, 632.
3
Islands from 1500s to 1879. I end at this fate because it is when the slave trade to Cape
Verde became illegal.
The dissertation focuses on the archipelago of Cape Verde, mainly on Santiago
and Fogo, which had the largest concentration of slaves and connection with the
mainland. Where appropriate I will also use examples from other islands that show
development of cultural similarities and particularities among the islands. This is a social
history of how commerce affected the sociocultural and political development of the
islands.
First, coastal African sensibilities continued in Cape Verde, mainly with slaves
and forros but also brankus di terra (“whites of the land”) and some filhos de terra
(“children of the land” or native-born). There was an incorporation of some European
cultural forms, but that did not mean the “Europeanization” of the population. Rather
than the unilateral and linear picture that creolization would posit, Mariana Candido and
2
Roquinaldo Ferreira view creolization as a cross-cultural exchange. Although this
certainly occurred, there remained two (or more) parallel cultural universes, often with a
clear demarcation of cultural practices and beliefs. In Cape Verde, a cross-cultural
exchange occurred in which the lower classes molded social practices derived from
coastal Africans, whereas the upper class developed more of a creolized culture. New
cultural practices emerged in the mainland and the islands in response to the slave trade.
In Cape Verde, there was change as well as continuity in dress and religious beliefs and
2
Mariana Candido, An African Slaving Port and the Atlantic world: Benguela and Its
Hinterland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013); Roquinaldo Ferreira, CrossCultural Exchange in the Atlantic World: Angola and Brazil during the Era of the Slave
Trade (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012)
4
3
practices. I argue that this was due to the transformation of “African” slavery in Cape
4
Verde, which was integrative and flexible, into a more rigid Atlantic slavery.
Second, this dissertation shows how economic deterioration led to the rise of the
brankus di terra and social banditry and the need to control free slaves and the poor with
various forms of punishment, including exile. Drought and famine was a major impetus
5
for this. The Cape Verde archipelago is part of the Sahelian climate and thus, a major
drought in Western Africa wreaked severe environmental devastation on the archipelago,
and the Portuguese settlement had already disturbed the ecological balance.
Third, with the creation of the Junta for Protection of Slaves and Freed Slaves,
slaves and freed slaves continued to protest by lodging complaints and paying for
manumission. Libertos (liberated slaves) had to provide mandatory service to their former
owners, which placed them in an ambivalent status between slavery and freedom, which
they vociferously challenged by direct confrontation, violence, and refusal to obey orders.
The creation of the Junta was the result of pressure from British efforts at abolition and
colonization. Portugal’s response included the creation of institutions intended to abolish
slavery and the slave trade in Cape Verde and Portuguese Guinea, while safeguarding
Portuguese trading posts (feitorias) and their expansion into new territories. The abolition
3
Production of hides and husbandry, which occurred in the islands, also needs studies to
understand African contributions to these sectors. Africans brought to Cape Verde their
knowledge of plants, their songs, agricultural skills, kinship, craftmaking etc. All these
African contributions to the archipelago’s culture have not been thoroughly examined to
date. The lacunae are profound in terms of African contribution.
4
Suzanne Miers and Igor Kopytoff (ed.), Slavery in Africa: Historical and
Anthropological Perspectives (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1977).
5
The Sahel is the area between the Saharan and Savanna of Africa. It is semi-arid, with
low rain precipitation.
5
of slavery and slave trade also caused the exiling of libertos to Upper Guinea along with
Cape Verdean military and merchants, some of who were slave owners in Cape Verde.
6
Thus, the Atlantic slave system was expanded to Upper Guinea. Thus, slavery, slave
trade coexisted with plantation-like slavery in the pontas (small plantations or estates) in
Portuguese Guinea. Therefore, this study contributes to the scholarship on the slave trade,
culture, race and slavery, colonialism, resistance, and manumission as well as the
abolition of slavery in African history and the Atlantic world.
Studying Cape Verde, one begins to understand that the African disaspora has
deep roots. Therefore, it begs the reconceptualization of Africa, as “traditional,” that is,
static and changeless, “Old World” versus “New World.” Cape Verde became integrated
into the Upper Guinea Coast, where the dominant political reality was “pre-colonial.”
7
Cape Verde was also close to the African mainland, unlike the African diaspora to the
Americas. Portuguese feitorias abounded in Upper Guinea and there was a constant back
and forth movement between the coast and Cape Verde Islands.
Historiography
Whereas debates on creolization, cultural survivals, and recreation have focused
8
mainly on the Americas, my study examines Cape Verde (an “uninhabited” African
6
Walter Rodney, “African Slavery and Other Forms of Social Oppression on the Upper
Guinea Coast in the Context of the Atlantic Slave-Trade,” Journal of African History 7,
no. 3 (1966): 431–43; Paul Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in
Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
7
Toby Green, ed., Brokers of Change: Atlantic Commerce and Cultures in Precolonial
Western Africa (London: The British Academy; published by arrangement by Oxford
University Press, 2012), 5.
8
Later, I will discuss arguments that others visited and even settled, before Portuguese
arrival.
6
archipelago, although some would call it part of a group of Atlantic islands) and
mainland Upper Guinea Coast. These debates have not usually included the African
Atlantic, such as Cape Verde, which was a sort of prototype for Atlantic history. Cape
Verdean society was born between the “Old” and “New” Worlds. With the exception of
few studies, most of the above-mentioned schools of African cultural transmission focus
on Bight of Benin (Lower Guinea) and West Central Africa (e.g., Congo, Angola, and
Benguela). Concerning the Upper Guinea Coast, Hawthorne argues against creolization,
but he emphasizes continuity (the “Guinean” core) and creolization (change) with slaves
9
brought from Upper Guinea to Amazonia in northeast Brazil.
On the other hand, Heywood and Thornton assert that the kingdoms of Angola
and Kongo experienced a sort of creolization that was essentially Europeanization. Mário
Antonio de Oliveira argues that Luanda, Benguela, and nearby the interior was a “Creole
island” (ilha crioula) that was the result of Portuguese culture’s ability to adapt to an
10
African milieu.
Heywood argues that Angola had a Creole culture, but that it was
largely African based rather than European.
11
Newitt asserts “that many of those who left
Portugal also left behind their Portuguese Christian identity . . . and it is not surprising
9
Walter Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil: Culture, Identity, and n Atlantic slave trade,
1600–1830 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). For a compromise between
creolization and recreation, see, Kalle Kananoja, “Central African Identities and
Religiosity in Colonial Minas Gerais,” PhD diss., Åbo Akademi University, Turku,
Finland, 2012).
10
Mário Antonio de Oliveira, “Luanda: ‘Ilha’ Crioula’” (Lisbon, Portugal: Agência
Geral do Ultramar, 1968).
11
Linda Heywood, “Portuguese into African: The Eighteenth-Century Central African
Background to Atlantic Creole Cultures,” in Linda Heywood (ed.), Central Africans and
Cultural Transformations in the American Dispora (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2002), 92.
7
that deserters from Portuguese fleets in the sixteenth century should have adopted local
religions.”
12
José Lingna Nafefé argues that the ‘tangomaus’ (or ‘lançados’) ability to
negotiate their identities in Western Africa allowed for the eventual emergence of Creole
13
society in the region.
Seibert argues that Creole culture did not develop in Upper
14
Guinea or West Central Africa, but in São Tomé e Princípe and Cape Verde.
Seibert
15
claims that that cultural creolization occurs with the “ethnicization and indigenization.”
In the precolonial period, Africans did not have a reified sense of ethnicity until European
colonial domination. Amselle perceptively argues that corporate identities were not fixed,
16
but constantly negotiated and renegotiated over time.
Some Africans tended to identify
12
Malyn Newitt, A History of Portuguese Overseas Expansion, 1400–1668 (London:
Routledge, 2005), 255.
13
José Lingna Nafafé, Colonial Encounters: Issues of Culture, Hybridity and
Creolisation, Portuguese Mercantile Settlers in West Africa (Frankfurt am Main,
Germany: Peter Lang, 2007), 1–9; Nafafé, “Lançados, Culture and Identity: Prelude to
Creole Societies on the Rivers of Guinea and Cape Verde,” in Creole Societies in the
Portuguese Colonial Empire, ed. Philip J. Havik and Malyn Newitt (Bristol, UK:
University of Bristol, Department of Hispanic, Portuguese, and Latin American Studies,
2007). Walter Rodney, A History of the Upper Guinea Coast (New York: Monthly
Review Press, 1970), 200–22.
14
Gerhard Seibert, “Creolization and Creole Communities in the Portuguese Atlantic:
São Tomé, Cape Verde, the Rivers of Guinea and Central Africa in Comparison,” in
Brokers of Change: Atlantic Commerce and Culture in Precolonial Western Africa
(London: The British Academy; published by arrangement with Oxford University Press,
2012), 36–40.
15
Seibert, “Creolization and Creole Communities in the Portuguese Atlantic,” 30.
16
Jean-Loup Amselle, Logiques métisses. Anthropologie de l’identité en Afrique et
ailleurs (Paris: Payot, 1990); Mestizo Logics: Anthropology of Identity in Africa and
Elsewhere, trans. Claudia Royal (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998).
8
17
at the kinship lineage level, then village and perhaps, a pan-identity.
Kinship was one
among many identities and was not necessarily the salient marker. Although new
identities arose in Cape Verde, breaking with so-called “original” identities was common
enough in Africa history: an individual could have multiple and porous identities.
Mansoancas, for instance, were neither Balanta nor Mandinka, but something new.
Specifically, the historiography of Cape Verde focuses on Europeanization,
Africanization, and creolization, with the majority of historians emphasizing the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, while positing the earlier period in a linear trajectory.
According to Augusto Mesquitela Lima, scholars are mainly concerned with neatly
tracing what is “African” and “European” in Cape Verde.
18
Mesquitela Lima notes that
indigenous development is usually excluded from the debate.
Recently, scholars have linked multiple cultural interactions in Upper Guinea as
the basis for later creolization with the Portuguese. Wilson Trajano Filho argues that the
development of Creole society in Guinea-Bissau was the result of the encounter between
19
Portuguese and Africans.
Filho employs “creolization as a root metaphor to refer to a
process of cultural and social change involving masses of people with different bonds of
social, cultural and political belonging.”
20
Filho emphasizes that the basis of this
creolization was predicated on shared histories of the region, in terms of “ethnic” groups
17
James Sweet, Domingos Álvares, African Helaing, and the Intellectual History of the
Atlantic World (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011), 15–16.
18
José Maria Semedo and Maria R. Turano, Cabo Verde: O Ciclo Ritual das
Festividades da Tabanca (Praia, Cape Verde: Spleen Edições, 1997), preface.
19
Wilson Trajano Filho, “Polymorphic Creoledom: The “Creole” Society of GuineaBissau,” PhD diss., University of Pennslyvania, 1998, iii.
20
Filho, “Polymorphic Creoledom,” 60.
9
relatedness (joking relations), certain groups shared political culture (rotation of
successive king from different kin group) and the importance of blacksmiths, for
instance. According to Filho, long-distance traders were central to the creolizaiton
process in Upper Guinea, in which the landlord and stranger relationship symbolized,
21
because the newcomer assimilated, to some extent, yet retained his
culture. This
allowed for the continuing introduction of new ideas. Filho calls this “primary
22
creolization,” with the Mande being a major catalyst.
Building upon tbe idea of “primary creolization,” Green suggests that European
Jews were able to adapt to this “intercultural” atmosphere created by Mande traders.
23
Green argues that the Jews’ adaptability in Portugal was essential in Africa.
According
to Green, New Christians (cristão novos) played an important role in the societies of
Cape Verde and Upper Guinea Coast, particularly in the sixteenth and eighteenth
centuries, that led to “creolization,” i.e., the adaptation of African and European
elements. For the Jews, this creolization was a cultural and economic rebellion against
the Iberian hegemony of Portuguese Crown, which tried to control them and others by
imposing a Catholic cultural norm via the Inquisition. By the beginning of seventeenth
century, the European settlers of Cape Verde consisted mostly of cristão novos, and this
coincided with a decline of the slave trade in the archipelago and the emergence of an
21
22
The strangers were usually all men, whether from the Atlantic or the interior.
Filho, “Uma Experiência Singular de Crioulização”, 13–14. Brasilia, Brazil:
Universidade de Brasilia; published at www.unb.br/ics/dan/Serie343empdf.pdf.
23
In All Can Be Saved, Stuart Schwartz argues that the common people, particularly
Jews and Muslims, were crucial in creating religious tolerance in Iberia and their empire.
This argument complements Tobias Green’s theory of the doubleness of Jewry in Iberia.
Also see The Forgotten Diaspora, which argues that Jewish traders in Cotê Petite
influenced African religions to form some syncretic local religions.
10
elite Creole class. Green contends that cristãos novos had a sense of doubleness that was
central to the formation of a Creole identity. Green goes on to say that mixed cultural
groups influenced the development of the trans-Atlantic Slave trade.
24
Green emphasizes
that creolization was vital to this process, with Jews and the Mande acting as cultural
brokers on the mainland. Green defines creolization on Cape Verde as a space in which
no prior settlement existed; thus, it inevitably meant that different cultural and linguistic
elements merged to form anew culture in the new soil.
25
Although Green shows the
importance of Cristaos novos in the rise of a new elite class, it is interesting that the
Mande influence of Cape Verde seems dminished by his focus on the elite class. The
Mande, as cultural brokers, are only important to Green for fostering commerce on the
mainland.
Iva Cabral suggests that there were three types of elites—social, racial, and
economic—that governed Ribeira Grande from the fifteenth through the nineteenth
centuries.
26
In the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries, the elites were essentially
Portuguese royal elites (réinos). There was no intermediary group between slaves and the
royal elites; there were a few free blacks and poor whites who worked for the merchants
24
25
Toby Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, 10–14.
This is similar to Megan Vaughan’s definition of creolization in Mauritius. See Tobias
Green, “Masters of Difference,” 27; Megan Vaughan, Creating the Creole Island:
Slavery in Eighteenth-Century Mauritius (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005), 2–
3.
26
Iva Cabral, “Elites atlântica: Ribeira Grande do Cabo Verde (séculos XVI–XVIII),”
Serviço de Documentação e Informação Parlamentar Assembleia Nacional de Cabo
Verde, in http://cvc.instituto-camoes.pt/eaar/coloquio/comunicacoes/iva_cabral.pdf; for
information specifically about filhos de terra, see Iva Cabral, “Dos povoadores aos
“filhos da terra”: a dinâmica da sociedade caboverdiana,” Serviço de Documentação e
Informação Parlamentar Assembleia Nacional de Cabo Verde.
11
and ship-owners. The second elite, filhos da terra, consisted of native white and mestiços
(mixed race) who appears at the end of sixteenth and the beginning of seventeenth
centuries; they had no royal lineage and little economic power, but they traded with
Guinea. The previous two types of elites were urban and cosmopolitan. At the beginning
27
of seventeenth century, the filhos da terra were mulatoes
and blacks who began to
trade directly with the Americas from the Guinea Coast as well as with intermediaries
from Guinea Coast and Cape Verde. From the perspective of the Portuguese, these elites
were “illegitimate” offspring who dominated the local militia and chamber (i.e., local
administration). By the mid-seventeenth century, a third elite arose, the brankus di terra
(whites of the land), described as mestiço (mulatos and black) by Cabral. Their power
28
came from positions in the local administration and militias. Cabral and Green
claim
that this was the true Cape Verdean elite. According to Green, the rise of Krioulo (i.e.,
Kabuverdianu) as a vernacular language in the mid-seventeenth century “[was] both
symptomatic of and decisive in the development of an autonomous cultural identity in
29
Cape Verde.”
Brankus di terra switched from the slave trade to renting land for
agricultural production. Thus, according to Cabral, by the eighteenth century, Santiago
was a non-slave society because the bulk of population (mostly vadio [ex-slaves and
27
It should be noted that mulatoe has a derogatory implication due to its origin from the
word mule, suggesting an infertile offspring. Nevertheless, Portuguese also associated
negro and preto, which slave status and inferiority. Thus, “black” does not connote
positivity during the past, at least, with the official power structure.
28
Toby Green, “Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape in the Seventeenth Century,”
219.
29
Tobias Green, “The Evolution of Creole Identity in Cape Verde,” in The Creolization
Reader, Studies in mixed identities and cultures, ed., with an introduction, by Robin
Cohen and Paola Toninato (New York: Routledge, 2010), 159.
12
escaped slaves]) were free. Brankus di terra were intermediaries between the vadio and
metropolis in maintaining the colony for the Portuguese Crown. Both Green and Cabral
assert that these elites were crucial in developing the Cape Verdean identity.
Although one must acknowledge Green’s assertion that the Jews, as a culturally
mixed group, were essential for the development of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, it is
perhaps an exaggeration to emphasize their centrality in the cultural formation of Cape
Verdean society, because free mixed and blacks as a class were decisive in maintaining
the islands as a Portuguese colony. More significant, slaves and forros were essential,
especially in Santiago and Fogo, in the development of local or popular culture, and they
settled on the other islands in archipelago. Although focusing on brankus di terra is
useful for understanding the elites’ power contestation and their role on culture,
examining the slaves’ and forros’ reaction to this power structure provides a more
nuanced picture of the social and cultural development of the bulk of the population that
made up this society.
Some have tried to diminish the impact of slavery and slave trade. For instance,
on June 10, 2009 the Portuguese government cohosted with some Portuguese universities
a contest “The Seven Portuguese Wonders in the World” that omitted the history of
slavery and the slave trade on the Web sites of places nominated such as Ribeira Grande,
of Santiago Island, Cape Verde, Elmina Castle (Castle São Jorge da Mina), as well as
30
Luanda and Mozambique Island.
On the Web site it stated, “The Seven Wonders
demonstrates the Portuguese pride in their history, in their patrimony without frontiers. A
people that built twenty-seven monuments in three different continents and this people
30
Petition to the Portuguese government “The Contest: The Seven Portuguese Wonders
Ignores the History of Slavery and the Slave Trade.” June 15, 2009.
13
31
are we—the Portuguese.”
Unfortunately, Manuel Veiga, the prominent linguist and
promoter of Kabuverdianu language, then Minister of Culture of the Republic of Cape
Verde, praised the selection of Ribera Grande (now known as Cidade Velha [Old City]),
because Cape Verde was anxiously awaiting for UNESCO to decide if Cidade Velha
would be listed as a World Heritage Site.
32
Given prior colonial historiography and the
downplaying (or even denial) of slavery and slave trade in Cape Verde, Veiga’s disregard
for historical truths and accuracy, but rather elevated status for the city sounds logical,
given Cape Verde’s objective of securing this international recognition. Indeed,
Humberto Lima argues that António Carreira’s historical characterization of Cape Verde
33
as a slave society and slavery was wrong.
Cape Verde was not a slave society because
drought and the failure to create plantation-regime like those in Haiti, Brazil, and
Jamaica. Second, the physiognomies of the population of Cape Verde are also different
from those places, because miscegenation was prominent due to freed slaves (i.e.,
women) “co-mingling” with European men. Third, according to Lima, Cape Verdean
language and culture was derived mainly from Portugal. According to Lima, Carreira’s
Cabo Verde: Uma Sociedade Escravocrata mainly focuses on Santiago (and to a lesser
extent, on Fogo), which had the largest slave population. Lima claims that by the
seventeenth century, Cape Verde was no longer a slave society, given that the
overwhelming majority of the population were freed slaves. Augusto Mesquitela Lima
31
http://www.7maravilhas.sapo.pt/#/o-que-ja-fizemos/7-maravilhas-de-origemportuguesa-no-mundo/
32
http://www.asemana.publ.cv/spip.php?article42504
http://www.rtp.pt/noticias/index.php?article=219453&tm=37&layout=122&visual=61
33
Humberto Lima, “O Erro de A. Carreira,” Cultura=Kultura Cabo Verde no. 2 (1998):
33–43.
14
goes even further by casting doubt on the appropriateness of calling what existed in the
archipelago slavery.
Lima’s depiction is skewed in several ways. First, as noted above, Humberto
Lima’s definition of slavery refers only to large plantation-like regimes that did not
predominate in Cape Verde. Hence, Lima implicitly suggests the “American” slavery that
portrayed by Western media. Second, Lima exaggerates the level of biological
miscegenation during the early period. Iva Cabral and Claudio Furtado note that the
population in 1731 (30,850) was 2.5 percent white, 29 percent mixed, 51.5 percent
34
liberated slaves, and 17 percent slaves.
Although slavery dropped to only 15–20
percent of the population in Santiago and Fogo, respectively, and much less on the other
islands, it was still central in terms of the organization of society. The economy centered
on providing provisions for incoming ships and the island was used as way-station for
slave traffickers to the Upper Guinea, Lower Guinea, and Central Africa, although the
35
number of ships varied.
However, the droughts and famine caused deaths of many
slaves and escape into the interior, there was a constant replenishment. Indeed, slavery
was not completely abolished until 1878.
Second, Brankus di terra was a social category that reflected economic and
34
Iva Cabral et Cláudio Furtado, Coordenadores do Programa MOST da UNESCO no
Cabo Verde Março de 2006. “Estados-Nação e Integração Regional na Africa do Oeste:
O Caso de Cabo Verde.”
http://portal.unesco.org/shs/en/files/10780/117552077611historique_capvert_ptg.pdf/hist
orique_capvert_ptg.pdf.
35
For more on the definition of slave society versus a society with slaves, see Ira Berlin,
Many Thousands Gone: the first two centuries of slavery in North America (Cambridge,
MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1998), 15–216.
15
cultural status rather than exclusively skin color.
36
Hence, although the 2.5 percent listed
above could be misleading, nevertheless, even if they were white in the biological sense,
it was a low number. Furthermore, the white population was reduced due to diseases,
famines, and poverty, which allowed for the rise of brankus di terra that was not based
on skin color. Basically, racially mixed and blacks replaced white Iberian Portuguese in
the local government and militias and thus became “whites.”
Third, Humberto Lima ignores the morphological and syntactical structure of
Kabuverdianu, which resembles West Atlantic languages, such as Mandinka, Wolof, and
37
Temne.
During the early period, Wolof slaves arrived in Ribera Grande; some went to
Iberia and Valencia.
38
Lima’s emphasis may be on the lexicon, over 90 percent of which
is derived from Old Portuguese. Lima downplays the deep African base of Cape Verdean
culture and assumes all modern-day practices were derived from Portugal during the
slave period.
The issue is a framework that places the Iberian Portuguese in charge for the saga
of Cape Verde. Of course, historiography has changed quite a bit since independence, but
the sentiment and ideological perspective lingers on. Hence, the slaves and forros have
not received an in-depth examination, except in António Carreira’s works, particularly
Panaria Caboverdeana-Guineense: aspectos históricos e sócio-económicos (1968) and
36
Today, djan branku dja (I’m whitened) means that one has improved his or her social
status and conveys nothing of the skin color of the individual. However, the fact that
social categories was racialized shows the racism and white supremacy of the ideological
underpinning of its origins.
37
Jürgen Lang et al (eds.), Cabo Verde: Origens de sua sociedade e do seu crioulo
(Tübingen, Germany: Gunter Narr, 2006), 53–90.
38
Hall, “The Role of Cape Verde Islanders,” 228–9.
16
Cabo Verde, formação e extinção de uma sociedade escravocrata (1460–1878) (1983).
Moreover, a revisionist historical reinterpretation appeared in the História geral de Cabo
Verde (1991), edited by Luís Albuquerque and Maria Emília Madeira Santos, which deals
with slave trade and slavery within the political, economic, and social dimension. Toby
Green’s brilliant book, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, recognizes—and
gives homage to—the slaves in Cape Verde, but his focus was on Jews and African
merchants as well as the politics that fostered the trading networks that led to the rise of
the trans-Atlantic slave trade.
Amílcar Cabral, the legendary leader of the struggle for independence in GuineaBissau and Cape Verde (Partido Africano de Independência de Guiné e Cabo Verde),
insists on the “Africanity” of Cape Verde in the face of colonial propaganda about about
lusotropicalismo (i.e., multiculturalism, multiracialism, and racial democracy). This
followed by Portuguese view that Cape Verde was not “indigenous” and therefore, not
“African” due to over 500 years of Portuguese domination via slavery and colonialism.
However, Cabral argued for a different view of Cape Verde’s the cultural situation:
It is the transfer of African cultural reality to the islands. Then came
contact between this African culture with other cultures from outside,
from Portugal and elsewhere. . . . The culture of the people of Cape Verde
is quintessentially African: in beliefs it is identical—in Santiago there is
the polon which some still regard as sacred tree. The polon is not common
because of the many droughts. But those, which still exist, are sacrosanct.
There is moreover morundade sorcery. “Spirits” which walk at night,
flying creatures, which make up an interpretation of life’s reality, which
39
almost totally matches that in Africa—not, to speak of the casting spells.
This was the mass, which were descendants of black African slaves from Upper
Guinea. For the Portuguese, however, Cape Verde was the par excellence of
39
Amilcar Cabral, Unity and Struggle (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1979), 56–
57.
17
40
lustropicalismo in Africa.
This “progressive assimilation” Amílcar Cabral said had
failed, and that, “It reaches the highest degree of absurdity in the case of Portugal, with
41
Salazar’s assertion that Africa does not exist.”
In fact, some intellectuals, like Baltasar
Lopes da Silva, argues the dilution of “Africa” in Cape Verde with few vestigial
remnants.
42
Green correctly emphasizes that the colonial historiography of Cape Verde
exemplified Portuguese initiatives and presence; postindependence, however, Cape
Verdean scholars have begun to rewrite their history, despite the burning and
disappearance of vital documents from, the early period.
43
Like the debate in the African
diaspora about the survival of African cultures, this debate was dominated by Portuguese
imperialism. In the postcolonial period, there has been an attempt to show the Africanity
of Cape Verde. On the other hand, Roger Sansi-Rocca argues “Europe and Africa have
always been as Creole as the Americas, in spite of the laborious task of historical erasure
taken by nationalist narratives for centuries.”
44
Sansi-Rocca suggests that although
Africa can claim a “primordial” past, places like Brazil and Cape Verde are condemned
40
Sérgio Neto, Colónia mártir, colónia modelo: Cabo Verde no pensamento ultramarino
português (1925–1965) (Coimbra, Portugal: Imprensa Universidade de Coimbra, 2009)
41
Amilcar Cabral, “National Liberation and Culture,” Transition no. 45 (1974): 12.
42
Gabriel Fernandes, A diluição da África: uma interpretação da saga cabo-verdiana no
panorama político (pós)colonial (Florianópolis, Brazil: EDUFSC, 2002); for
contemporary debate about historical legacy of race and racism in Portuguese-speaking
world, see Francisco Bethencourt and Adrian J. Pearce, Racism and Ethnic Relations in
the Portuguese-Speaking World (London: The British Academy; published by
arrangement by Oxford University Press, 2012).
43
Green, “Masters of Difference,” 5–16.
44
Roger Sansi-Roca, “The Fetish in the Lusophone Atlantic,” in Cultures of the
Lusophone Black Atlantic, ed. Nancy Priscilla Naro, Roger Sansi-Roca, and David H.
Treece (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 3.
18
45
because of their creoleness (i.e., mixture).
Although the word “creole” is too broad,
Africanists have demonstrated that Africa did experience cultural change in agriculture,
religion, settlement patterns, and social organization (e.g., age groups), but these
transformations were more internally dictated than drive by outside forces. Creolization
has also been tied to “Europeanization,” i.e., the rest of world’s people have become
shadow to the grand Eurocentric meta-narrative, particularly when discussing the slave
trade. For East Africa, there appears to be a similar debate. Deborah Fahy Bryceson
points out that in the first half of the twentieth century, the historiography of East Africa
46
exhibited two divides: Islamic urban coast and agricultural African hinterland.
In the
postcolonial period, the revisionist slant was to show the Africanity of the coastal region
of East Africa. Bryceson argues that it is neither African nor Arab, but a fusion that
resulted in a Creole culture.
47
Others have taken a more sophisticated approach, such as Peter Mark, in their
description of identity formation. Mark defines Luso-African identity in terms of dress,
language, occupation, and architecture,
48
i.e., creolization from Upper Guinea Coast,
Cape Verde, and Brazil. Mark differentiates the social classes and “ethnic groups” in
mainland Upper Guinea; however, Mark describes Cape Verde as simply Luso-African
because of an architecture (sobradus [mansions]) reserved for the elites, but this obscures
45
46
Sansi-Roca, “Fetish in the Lusophone Atlantic,” 20.
Deborah Fahy Bryceson, “Swahili Creolization: The Case of Dar es Salaam,” in The
Creolization Reader: Studies in Mixed Identities and Cultures edited by Robin Cohen
and Paola Toninato (London: Routledge, 2009), 364–75.
47
Notwithstanding identifying Kiswahili as a Bantu language, which was not always the
case.
48
For similar argument of Mark as it relates to architecture, see Jay Edwards,
“Architectural Creolization,” in The Creolization Reader, 219–34.
19
the complex social stratification and divided belongings and loyalties. In Cape Verde, for
instance, by focusing on only elite architecture, Mark ignores funcos, circular
dwellings/slave huts, that abounded there and their connection with those on the
mainland. Marie Louise Stig Sørensen, Christopher Evans, and Konstantin Richter
maintain that labeling Cape Verdean society as Luso-African is problematic.
49
Certainly,
slaves and maroon communities did not identify as “Portuguese,” i.e., Luso-Africans.
Those that identified as “Portuguese” were elites and their “Portuguese” identity become
more emphatic once in the Upper Guinea for strategic reasons. A self-proclaimed
“Portuguese” identity for trading purposes seems to have been an integral part of the
Portuguese Empire. For instance, Stefan Halikowski Smith argues that creolization
occurred in Ayutthaya, Asia, because “dark-skinned mestiços” identified as
“Portuguese,” which was based on dress, nominal Christian identity, and, in particular,
their ability to speak “creolised dialects.”
50
Thus, “Portuguese” identity was tied to dress,
religion, and language, rather than skin color—a definition that Mark and Smith have in
common. The issue remains discerning its applicability to different social classes without
excluding other social realities.
Creolization—or, more appropriately, the conditions for cultural production and
reproduction—came about via violence, otherization, and an emphasis on differences,
despite the rhetoric of multiculturalism or coexistence, as exemplified by the Antillean
49
M. L. S. Sørensen, C. Evans, and K. Richter, “A Place of History: Archaelogy and
Heritage at Cidade Velha, Cape Verde,” Slavery in Africa: Archaelogy and Memory, ed.
P. J. Lane and K. C. MacDonald (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
50
Stefan Halikowski Smith, Creolization and Diaspora in the Portuguese Indies: The
Social World of Ayutthaya, 1640-1720. (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2011), 2.
20
defenders of créolité
51
or lustropicalismo with its variant of convivencia (coexistence).
Agreeing with Stuart Hall, Green emphasizes that creolization was intertwined with
“inequality and hierarchization.”
52
According to Green, the ascendant racist European
empires saw the process of creolization as a negative one (degeneration), but this view
shifted to a more positive one with the publication of Martin Bernal’s Black Athena: The
53
Afroasiastic Roots of Classical Civilization (1991),
which explains that ancient Greece
was a hybrid or mixed culture made up of ancient Egyptian and European elements.
Mariana Candido also emphasizes that crioulo in Portuguese has a negative connotation,
but she posits creolization as cross-cultural exchange, in which Africans were influencing
54
Portuguese as well.
Like Hall, Green, Palmié, Hawthorne,
55
Barry, and Rodney,
Candido emphasizes that Atlantic slave trade was violent, and resulted in the
militarization of Africa. In this space, there were changes among peoples with divided
51
Vaughan, Creating The Creole Island, 264–5; Stephan Palmié, “Creolization and Its
Discontents, or Is there a model in the middle?” (Paper presented at the Conference on
Creolization, University College, London; Pier M. Larson, Ocean of Letters: Language
and Creolization in an Indian Ocean Diaspora (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2009),18–19; for the oneness argument of Creole culture, see Edouard Glissant, Le
discours antillais (Paris: Éditions du Seuil); Jean Bernabé, Patrick Chamoiseau, Raphaël
Confiant, eds., Éloge de la créolité (Paris, Gallimard, 1993); Celia Britton, Edouard
Glissant and Postcolonial Theory: Strategies of Language and Resistance
(Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1999).
52
Green, “The Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape Verde,” 230; Stuart Hall,
“Créolité and the Process of Creolization,” in Cohen and Toninato (eds.), The
Creolization Reader, 26–38, 29.
53
Green, “The Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape Verde,” 230.
54
Mariana Candido, An African Slaving Port and the Atlantic World: Benguela and its
Hinterland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 11.
55
Nevertheless, Hawhorne does not believe that this necessarily led to the devastation
and depopulation or underdevelopment for Balanta, but rather their population increased;
see Walter Hawthorne, Planting Rice and Harvesting Slaves: Transformations along the
Guinea-Bissau Coast, 1400–1900 (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003).
21
loyalties and different notions of belonging. Some theories of creolization argue that the
development of Creole language shows the existence of this profound change, but these
views ignore other areas of people’s lives.
Rather than focus solely on the violent aspect of slavery (e.g., waging war, raiding
villages), this study analyzes the continuing resistance, as David Richardson illustrated
56
when still on African coast frequently happened,
but now in Cape Verde, which was
very close to the coast. Although slave resistance is a major focus of the African
diaspora, the slave uprisings, rebellion, and social banditry must be seen within the social
context of the Upper Guinea that was linked with Atlantic currents. Eric Robert Taylor
maintains that, given European slave traders’ writings and analysis from the Transatlantic
Slave Trade database, slaves in the Upper Guinea had a higher rate of rebellion on the
coast, “three to five times higher” and “more severe as well, with a much higher
57
incidence of death.”
Hawthorne underscores that the Middle Passage (or Dark
Crossing) did not render a complete “social death” because slaves recreated corporate
identity or “social recarnation” that they maintained once in Brazil.
56
58
Dunkley theorizes
David Richardson, “Shipboard Revolts, African Authority, and the African Slave
Trade,” William and Mary Quarterly 58 (2001): 69–92.
57
Eric Robert Taylor, If We Must Die: Shipboard Insurrections in the Era of the Atlantic
Slave Trade (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2006), 63; Ismail Rashid,
“‘A Devotion to the Idea of Liberty at Any Price’: Rebellion and Antislavery in the
Upper Guinea Coast in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” in Fighting the Slave
Trade: West African Strategies, ed. Silviane A. Diouf, (Athens: Ohio University Press,
2003). For similar argument about slaves’ idea about freedom, see Daive A. Dunkley,
Agency of the Enslaved: Jamaica and the Culture of Freedom in the Atlantic World
(Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013), 1.
58
Walter Hawthorne, “‘Being Now, As It Were, One Family’: Shipmate Bonding on the
Slave Vessel Emilia, in Rio de Janeiro and throughout the Atlantic World,” LusoBrazilian Review 45, no. 1 (2008): 59.
22
that “slave freedom as the knowledge and conviction of enslaved people that they were
free”
59
enabled the slave’s agency in manifesting different forms of resistance. Hence, it
is important to understand the different forms of resistance, whether overt or covert, and
how they informed cultural development, because resistance can be seen as an act of
60
culture.
Consequently, my study focuses on the different classes to deepen our
understanding of the historical processes. Social instability, heterodoxy, the rise of the
brankus di terra, marronage, and social banditry in Cape Verde were part of a broad
range of agency that contested the power structure that informed cultural formation.
For African history, studying Cape Verde Islands demonstrate Africa in
transformation—some scholars note that “change” in Africa occurred the colonial period.
Some scholars might believe, because Portugal, colonized, without “indigenous”
culture(s), it renders it a diasporic place comparable to Caribbean islands. Indeed, Michel
Cahen writes, “The Cape Verdean society is completely different from any society of the
continent: no lineage kinship, no tribes, no traditional chiefs, no clans and their food
61
taboos, no ethnicities, no age classes.”
Cahen uses these as a benchmark without
seriously interrogating these categories, particularly if any of these institutions continued
in transformed forms, because his focus is the contemporary period, by emphasizing no
prior settlement and hence, discontinuity. As Jacques Depelchin notes, African
59
60
Dunkley, Agency of the Enslaved, 1.
Employing Amilcar Cabral’s ideas that liberation is an act of culture; see Amilcar
Cabral, “National Liberation and Culture,” 12–17.
61
Michel Cahen, “Anticolonialism and Nationalism: Deconstructing Synonymy,
Investigating Historical Processes; Notes on the Heterogeneity of Former African
Colonial Portuguese Areas,” in Sure Road? Nationalism in Guinea, Angola and
Mozambique edited by Éric Morier-Genoud (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2012), 1–
30.
23
historiography has been caught between the syndrome of discovery and abolitionism,
which equates to discovering “different” or exotic realities on the continent and its
opposite version is exposing ‘repugnant’ cultural practices that merit abolishing.
62
Like
Conrad, the “real” Africa, in a distorted and Eurocentric view, is far away from the coast,
in the interior—the “heart of darkness.” Thornton underscores that Dona Beatriz Kimpa
Vita, who led the Antonian Movement in the Kongo Kingdom, is largely ignored in
popular history because it is too familiar and not exotic—in other words, it is not
“traditional” Africa.
63
Thus, it is in dress and religion that we witness the transformation
of African socieities during the Atlantic slave trade, particularly because dress expresses
identities—religious, gender (masculinity, femininity), and profession, as well as status,
power, and prestige.
Jean Allman suggests that dress shows how power is “constituted, articulated, and
contested” in which “bodily praxis as political praxis, fashion as political language.”
64
The body becomes the center stage on which this power dimension is explored via
economics, politics, gender, and generational divide. There is a lack of studies about
fashion in Africa, because the two main approaches, cultural/historical and
anthropological/ethnographic, ascribe fashion to the rise of capitalism and Western
modernity, whereas the non-Western world is attributed with dress and costume. The
latter represents more “traditional” and “precivilized” societies. However, Jean and John
62
Jacques Depelchin, Silences in African History: Between the Syndromes of Discovery
and Abolition (Dar es Salaam, Tanzania: Mkuki na Nyota, 2004), 1–21.
63
John Thorthon, The Kongolese Saint Antony: Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the
Antonian Movement, 1684–1706 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 1–2.
64
Jean Allman (ed.), Fashioning Africa Power and the Politics of Dress (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2004), 1.
24
Comaroff suggest that modernity in Southern Africa, for instance, played out a conflict of
how the Tswana bodies “were to be clothed and presented” under colonial rule.
65
Hence,
the Comaroffs problematizes the binary of fashion versus dress as it relates to modernity.
Indeed, during the Atlantic slave trade, African dress was not static but dynamic,
and modernity did not start with colonialism in African history. This dissertation
contributes to this debate by demonstrating how profoundly dynamic fashion was in
Africa, long before the rise of late nineteenth-century European colonialism. Barbara
Burman and Carole Turbin contend that dress and textiles can “reveal dimensions of
political and social transformations that cannot be discerned in observed social
66
behaviour or verbal and written articulations.”
Precisely because of this, Jean Allman
persuasively argues that dress and clothing is an alternative archive with which to
interrogate the subjectivities of the so-called subalterns. Allman further notes that dress
and clothing also challenge the gendered divide of public/political as male and
private/personal as female. Laura Fair shows that how Zanzibari women’s political praxis
67
via dress related to emancipation and citizenship.
Judith Byfield shows how the
Abeokuta Women’s Union regulated clothing to unify socioeconomic differences as part
68
of nation building and nationalism.
Moreover, the local context determined the
65
Jean and John Comaroff, Revelation and Revolution: Dialectics of Modernity on a
Southe Afrian Frontier, vol. 2 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 222.
66
Barbara Burman and Carole Turbin, “Introduction: Material strategies Engendered,”
Gender and History 4, no. 3 (2002): 375. Emphasis added.
67
Laura Fair, “Remaking Fashion in the Paris of the Indian Ocean: Dress, Performance
and Cosmopolitan Identity in Early Twentieth Century Zanzibar,” in Jean Allman (ed.),
Fashioning Africa, 13–30.
68
Judith Byfield, “Dress and Politics in Post-World War II Abeokuta (Western
Nigeria),” in Jean Allman (ed.), Fashioning Africa, 31–49.
25
meaning of clothing. For instance, “If Westernized inspired dress in 1950s colonial
Angola embodied nation, in 1970s Tanzania and Zambia, in the form of the miniskirt, it
threatened patriarchal authority in profound ways.”
69
The tradition of incorporating
European clothing into local African contexts has a long history that begins with the
Atlantic slave trade.
My dissertation fills a void because most researchers do not visit Cape Verde to
work on period prior to the twentieth century. My primary source was the National
Archive in Praia, Cape Verde. I utilized notary records, including marriage, death, and
baptismal certificates; Secretaria Geral do Governo (General Secetrary Govern), which
included reports about economics, politics, trade, religious, and social issues by the local
administration; and the Secretario General Governo, which has two divisions: livros
(books) and caixas (boxes). The latter covers Cape Verde from the seventeenth century to
1975, when Cape Verde became independent. I also consulted Boletim Offical do
Governo Provincial de Cabo Verde, which was initiated in the 1842 to provide more
detail accounts on a trisemester basis. Moreover, the Boletim de Propaganda, although it
focused on the twentieth century, allowed for some comparison with earlier periods, thus
enabling me to understand the changes and continuity better.
70
Unfortunately, the voices
of slaves and libertos are not always readily available in the historical records; rather,
others discuss them, and inevitably those discussions are filtered through others’ biases
and choices concerning what should be written. Yet, the Junta did record their complaints
69
70
Allman (ed.), Fashioning Africa, 6.
Even João Lopes Filho’s Abolição da escravatura: subsídios para o estudo is an
institutional history and does not interrogate the social lives of slaves nor their complaint
before the Junta for manumission, which is a rich source that partially demonstrates what
slaves wanted and what they were able to achieve, at least during the nineteenth century.
26
and desires, at least as it related to issues of manumission and treatment. Despite these
limitations, the slaves’ actions sometimes speak clearly about their interests and
perspectives. Nothwithstanding António Carreira’s pioneering work about slavery in
Cape Verde, those in the Lusophone world have not done any in-depth research about
slavery and the slave trade in Cape Verde despite its connection with the Upper Guinea
Coast. Cape Verdean scholars tend to focus on the post-abolition period, because there
are abundant materials in Cape Verde. Finally, with the elevation of Cidade Velha to a
World Heritage Site, there needs to be more investigations of the time of slavery, because
the details of the laboratory that gave rise to the first slave society of black Africans
slaves (rather than multiracial slavery) was a turning point for Atlantic slave trade.
In addition to the previously mentioned sources, I used published primary sources
by elite Cape Verdean, Portuguese, but Dutch, British, Brazilian, and French traders.
Summary of Chapters
Chapter 1, “Cotton and Dress in Upper Guinea Coast, 1500–1600,” provides the
historical background of fashion in the Upper Guinea by highlighting the local
adornments, non-Islamic and Islamic, from the mid-fifteenth through the seventeenth
centuries. The chapter briefly explores the cotton–slave trade (i.e., Portuguese/Cape
Verdean merchants selling raw cotton in exchange for slaves with African traders). This
was the precursor to the panu (cotton cloth)–slave trade between Cape Verde and Upper
Guinea. In Cape Verde, enslaved Africans, mostly from Upper Guinea, produced panu,
which Portuguese merchants traded for slaves in the Upper Guinea. The making of panu
27
in Cape Verde was based on a gendered division of labor derived from an African
“knowledge-system.”
Chapter 2, “Panu: Slave Trade, Dress, and Fashion in Cape Verde, c.1600–
c.1800s,” focuses on the development of cotton cloth as fashion in Cape Verde and how
gender and class influenced this process. The manner and the type of panu worn varied
by social class, because people with means, such as some manumitted slaves, particularly
black women, used silk, damask, and other types of finery. I argue that the use of panu in
Cape Verde was continuation of the Guinean “cultural core,” particularly among freed
black women. It also illustrates the economic and social affects of panu on Cape Verdean
society during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The population used panu as a
local currency, for cultural practices (e.g., funeral rites, carrying babies) and ascribing
social order and ranking, as well as a commodity for exchange with Upper Guinea.
Chapter 3, “Social Unease in a Slave Society: Flight, ‘Social Banditry,’ and
Religious Heterodoxy, 1700–1800,” examines the social life of slaves and manumitted
individuals and how elites and state and religious institutions interacted with them.
During the eighteenth century, the Cape Verde Islands were undergoing a political,
economic, and social upheaval due to the rise of a new social class and the end of slavery.
The social hierarchy of the Catholic Church had been weakened and the Church was in
disarray, due to poor finances and priests involved in slave trade and committing
“blasphemous acts.” Manumitted male slaves were demanding the right to marry
enslaved women and their freedom; others were organized in bands causing mayhem in
the form of robbery, killing, and attacking properties. Famine caused people to sell slaves
and free people to European traders. The local authorities utilized laws and the military to
28
control this volatile situation. They arrested and fined fugitive slaves and those assisting
them and selling people “illegally.” They exiled captured social bandits, usually freed
slaves, to Upper Guinea as soldiers.
Chapter 4, “Ending Slavery in Cape Verde: Manumission, Crimes, and
Punishment, 1856–1870,” explores the abolition of slavery in Cape Verde between 1856
and 1870 under the new Junta for the Protection of Liberated Slaves and Slaves. The
process emphasized compensation for the masters and the baptism of minors as the
eligibility for “freedom,” but slaves and “freed” individuals used the new mechanism to
file complaints and challenge notions of freedom and rights as part of their resistance to
harsh treatment and unfair laws. It also delves into how the Portuguese Empire, through
local colonial administration, the Catholic Church, and the Junta, tried to control and
manage slaves and manumitted individuals in Cape Verde through the use of public
works, whippings, hangings, and exile.
Chapter 5 examines the notion of kinship, abolition, commerce, and colonization
on the Upper Guinea Coast in relation to Cape Verde in first seventy years of the
nineteenth century. Notions of kinship between strangers’ (Portuguese/Cape Verdeans)
and Africans were essential in fostering trade relations that could tap into African and
global trading networks. In Upper Guinea, some Cape Verdean merchants had slaves and
others working the farms to produce items for trade with the littoral communities. These
slaves would be liberated as the Portuguese Empire was ending slavery in Cape Verde.
The burgeoning colony of “Portuguese Guinea” employed exiled convicts, slaves,
manumitted slaves, and poor individuals to wage war on old African “friends” or “allies.”
29
These military and administrative personnel experienced disease, lack of resources, and
fierce African resistance.
The Conclusion shows how Africans incorporated elements of European clothing
into their own fashions without abandoning African aesthetics. Furthermore, the
conclusion problematizes the Luso-African identity by highlighting the fact that
individuals assigned to this category came from different social strata. Thus, contact
zones in Atlantic Africa did not follow a linear progression toward “creolization” or
“Europeanization.”
30
CHAPTER 1
COTTON AND DRESS IN UPPER GUINEA COAST, 1500–1600s.
Before the rise of the Atlantic slave trade on the Upper Guinea Coast, dress in
cotton cloth tended to be the preserve of the elite class in highly stratified kingdoms,
especially those of the Wolof, Fula, and Mandinka. Moreover, in small-scale societies
with semi-centralized institutions, such as Kasanga, Beafada, and Bañun, male chiefs
adorned themselves in panu di lambú, which was similar to the Roman toga but shorter.
In more thoroughly small-scale or stateless societies, such as Bijagos, Balanta, Floup, and
Nalu, people tended to wear goatskin, grass, or a small piece of cloth across their
midsection. There was great diversity in dress in Upper Guinea, but with gradual
Islamization of the northern part of the region, especially with the aristocratic circles
already adopting cotton cloth by the mid-fifteenth century and the subsequent growth of
the trans-Atlantic slave trade, a larger community began to adopt cotton cloth as the
71
preferred means of clothing.
This change resulted in the transformation of dress and
fashion from skirts usually made of grass, to textiles, which included cotton, silk, linen,
wool, and damask.
71
Colleen Kriger, Cloth in West African History (Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press, 2006),
67–109.
31
Figure 2. Clothing Styles of Wolof Kingdom, Late Seventeenth Century
(Source: D. O. Dapper, Description de l’Afrique…Traduite du Flamand [Amsterdam,
st
1688; 1 ed., 1668], 234.)
Figure 3. Clothing Styles of Women of Kazegut (Bijagos Island), c.1728
(Source: Jean-Baptiste Labat, Nouvelle Relation de l’Afrique Occidentale
[Paris: Chez G. Cavelier, 1728], between pages 184 and 185)
The early slave trade and focus on cloth and panus were based on the preexisting
African trade network,
72
which, I argue, allowed for the development of “Guinean”
fashion and dress in Upper Guinea and Cape Verde. The Portuguese produced panu in
Cape Verde for economic advantage due to African cultural preferences to ensure
72
Linda A. Newson, “Africans and Luso-Africans in the Portuguese Slave Trade on the
Upper Guinea Coast in the Early Seventeenth Century,” Journal of African History 53,
no. 1 (2012): 24.
32
positive commercial relation In turn, the Portuguese relied on African knowledge of panu
production and slave laborers to manufacture panu for their commerce with Upper
Guinea. Hence, trade in panu from Cape Verde to Upper Guinea expanded its use of
panu on the African continent. It shaped and reproduced a regional dress within a diverse
cultural landscape of fashions and dresses. Green’s notion of creolization, in which mixed
cultural groups (specifically Luso-Africans and Mande traders), functioning as cultural
brokers, laid the basis for the rise of the Atlantic slave trade, is well conceived,
73
for
Cape Verde the African knowledge and preferences was central to panu production in the
archipelago,
74
European traders provided cotton cloth among other commodities that was
already circulating in an elaborate trading network that allow culturally mixed traders to
facilitate the rise of the trans-Atlantic slave trade.
This chapter provides a historical background of the dressing practices in Upper
Guinea by highlighting the Islamic and the non-Islamic styles. Second, it explores the
cotton-slave trade, the precursor to the panu-slave trade, which laid the basis for the
cultural exchange between Cape Verde and Upper Guinea. In this initial phase, the
Portuguese provided raw cotton from Cape Verde along with manufactured goods from
Europe. In turn, European/Cape Verdean traders received slaves, beeswax, and other
items. Eventually, the Portuguese began to focus on panu production because it provided
73
Robin Law and Kristin Mann highlight the fluid cross-cultural communities between
Bahia and the Bight of Benin formed an Atlantic community; Robin Law and Kristin
Mann, “West Africa in the Atlantic Community: The Case of the Slave Coast,” William
and Mary Quarterly 56, no. 2 (1999), 307–34.
74
Toby Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade in Western Africa, 1300-1589
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
33
greater value in their exchanges with Africans on the mainland. This chapter traces the
development of the panu-slave trade from Cape Verde to Upper Guinea.
The rise of the Atlantic slave trade centered, in part, on the elaborate panu
production by enslaved Africans and their descendants, initially on the islands of Fogo
and Santiago of Cape Verde Islands. This chapter examines panu manufacturing, which
75
was the domain of highly skilled female and male slaves.
The making of panu in Cape Verde was based on a gendered division of labor
derived from an African social practice or “knowledge-system.”
76
With African social
practice as central in the encounter with the Europeans, scholarship on the African
77
Atlantic
focuses on agricultural production, identity formation, and cultural change as
an African response to their needs, rather than mere incorporation into an ever-expanding
world system.
78
In spite of these pioneering scholarship of Africans responses to the
75
To make panu, female slaves collected cotton, spun and dyed it, then male slaves
wove cotton yarn on a horizontal loom into bands 5–6 inches wide by 5–6 feet long. T.
Bentley Duncan, Atlantic Islands: Madeira, the Azores, and the Cape Verdes in
Seventeenth-Century, Commerce and Navigation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1972), 219.
76
Judith Carney argues that a knowledge system on risiculture was transferred from
Upper Guinea to South Carolina; Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in
the Americas (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001).
77
In West and Central Africa, this was the contact zone that Africans had with
Europeans during the Atlantic slave trade.
78
Walter Hawthorne, Planting Rice and Harvesting Slaves: Transformation along the
Guinea-Bissau Coast, 1400–1900 (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003); Peter Mark,
“Portuguese” Style and Luso-African identity: precolonial Senegambia, sixteenthnineteenth centuries (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002); G. Ugo Nwokeji,
The Slave Trade and Culture in the Bight of Biafra: An African Society in the Atlantic
World (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Green, The Rise of the TransAtlantic Slave Trade; John Thornton, A Cultural History of the Atlantic World, 1250–
1820 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012); James H. Sweets, Domingos
Álvares, African Healing, and the Intellectual History of the Atlantic World (Chapel Hill:
34
Atlantic slave trade, on the African Atlantic, there has been little sustained study of the
79
material culture and aesthetics during the Atlantic slave trade.
In contrast, there is a growing body of literature on the African diaspora in the
Atlantic basin, the entire Atlantic World including the Americas, Europea and Africa,
that has focused on material culture, including the aesthetics of music, fashion, and dress
during the Atlantic during slavery. Indeed, Crickett Harmer argues that “cloth politics”
was vital to the rise of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, for Africans and Europeans. For
instance, cloth was main ingredient for the canvas used on slave ships, and that enslaved
Africans and their descendants used their sewing skills to purchase their freedom in the
80
Americas.
To bridge this divide between the African diaspora and their homeland, the
African Atlantic should also be scrutinized to understand cultural continuity, change, and
exchange. This will allow for an analysis of aesthetic development and/or cross-cultural
University of North Carolina Press, 2011); Rebecca Shumway, The Fante and the
Transatlantic Slave Trade (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2011);
Roquinaldo Ferreira, Cross-Cultural Exchange in the Atlantic World: Angola and Brazil
during the Era of the Slave Trade (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012);
Mariana P. Candido, An African Slaving Port and the Atlantic World: Benguela and Its
Hinterland (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013).
79
António Carreira, Panaria Cabo-Verdiano-Guineense: Aspectos históricos e sócioeconomicos (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 1968). Liza A.
Gijanto, “Change and the Era of the Atlantic Trade: Commerce and Interaction in the
Niumi Commercial Center (The Gambia),” Ph.D. diss., Syracuse University, 2010;
Akinwumi Ogundiran and Toyin Falola (eds.), Archaelogy of Atlantic Africa and the
African diaspora (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007); Pascal Bokar Thiam,
From Timbuktu to the Mississippi Delta: How West African Standards of Aesthetics have
Shaped the Music of the Delta Blues (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2011); Christopher
DeCorse, West Africa during the Atlantic Slave Trade: Archaelogical Perspectives
(London: Leicester University Press, 2001); Robert Farris Thompson, Aesthetic of the
Cool: Afro-Atlantic Art and Music (Pittsburgh, PA: Periscope Publishing, 2011).
80
Crickett Harmer, “The Effects of ‘Cloth Politics’ in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade:
Cause, Cash, Commodity and Comfort,”
http://discoverarchive.vanderbilt.edu/handle/1803/3095?show=full.
35
exchange between the Black Atlantic and the Atlantic Africa. Research on the African
diaspora regarding fashion and dress, for example, usually rely on modern ethnological
and anthropological work, rather than historical interpretation, to link the African
diaspora with the African homeland. For instance, Buckridge points out that the
supposedly “traditional” African head wrapping can be found in Jamaica.
81
John
Thornton, however, suggests that head wrapping was the result of cultural change in
Atlantic Africa during the era of the Atlantic slave trade that was transported with
82
African captives to the “New World.”
António Carreira, T. Bentley Duncan, George Brooks, and Colleen Kriger explore
the economic and cultural aspect of panu in Upper Guinea during the era of the Atlantic
slave trade. Carreira and Brooks show the importance of panu di terra (cotton cloth from
Cape Verde) in the economic and sociocultural context of Upper Guinea and Cape Verde.
Building on Carreira’s thesis, Duncan demonstrates that the economic side of panu di
terra was important in the purchasing of slaves by Portuguese/Luso-African “Cape
Verdean” merchants. Yet, neither Carreira nor Duncan links it to a rise of an AfroAtlantic feminine aesthetics, which John Thornton alludes to but does not develop.
83
This “transformation” of African aesthetics was more of incorporation of European
81
Steeve O. Buckridge, The Language of Dress: Resistance and Accommodation in
Jamaica, 1760–1890 (Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2004).
82
John Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400–1800
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 233.
83
Thornton, Africa and Africans, 230–34; see George E. Brooks, “Artists’ Depictions of
Senegalese Signares: Insights Concerning French Racist and Sexist Attitudes in the
Nineteenth Century,” Genève-Afrique, 18, no, 1 (1980): 75–90. For Angola, see Mariana
P. Candido (2012), “Aguida Gonçalves da Silva, une dona à Benguela à fin du XVIII
siècle, Brésil(s) Sciences humaines et sociales, no. 1 (May): 33–53.
36
elements and reconfiguration of African aesthetics. Individuals expressed their identities
via dress, religious affiliation, the consumption of particular food, and their profession.
For examples, Liza Gijanto makes the following observation concerning the Mande
people in the Juffure Village, on the north bank of the Gambia River, as well as nearby
settlements of San Domingo and Lamin Conco:
Despite direct access to trade materials, this community was comprised of
discriminate consumers whose choice of specific commodities was done
in a way that fit within preexisting forms of display. Therefore, material
categories highlighted in this analysis represented both the use of
European imported goods into everyday expressions of wealth as well as
the translation of this into previously established practices—specifically
practices associated with public display such as personal adornment and
84
foodways.
Residents or “Luso-Africans” from Santiago Island settled in Juffure and Albreda,
and founded San Domingo and Sika along the Gambia River as merchants trading of
cloth and cotton textiles.
85
Kriger refers to the long-standing tradition of cloth making in
West Africa, including Upper Guinea, Niger Bend to Chad basin and Nok regions, which
86
later developed Atlantic connections.
84
Gijanto, “Change and the Era of the Atlantic Trade,” abstract; for a similar argument
about food in the Gold Coast, see J. D. La Fleur, Fusion Foodways of Africa’s Gold
Coast in the Atlantic Era (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2012). Emphasis added.
85
Francis Moore, Travels into the inland parts of Africa: Containing a description of the
several nations for the space of Six Hundred Miles up the River Gambia (London: printed
by D. Henry and R. Cave, 1738), 70–72; Curtin, Economic Change in Precolonial:
Senegambia in the Era of the Slave Trade (Madion: University of Wisconsin Press,
1975), 97; Gijanto, “Change and the Era of the Atlantic Trade,” 72.
86
Colleen E. Kriger, “‘Guinea Cloth,’ Production and Consumption of Cotton Textiles in
West Africa before and during the Atlantic Slave Trade,” in The Spinning World: A
Global History of Cotton Textile 1200–1850, edited by Giorgio Riello and Prasannan
Parthasarathi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 107–11. For fashion, cloth,
dyeing and politics in Africa, see Judith A. Byfield, The Bluest Hands: A Social and
Economic History of Women Dyers in Abeokuta (Nigeria), 1890–1940 (Portsmouth, NH:
37
Before the arrival of the Portuguese, Africans prized textiles and clothing items,
such as the Wolof xereos (plain white cotton cloth) and Mandinka bantan (silk cloth).
White symbolized purity, which made it an important color on the coast and elsewhere.
The newcomers did not drastically alter the trading networks or introduce radical new
commodities; they tapped into a vibrant cultural and economic trade network. African
elites and rulers came to value panu, which was the only way “Cape
Verdean”/Portuguese merchants could to compete with English, French, and Dutch
traders.
87
In 1471, in what became the El Mina or a mina do ouro (the gold mine) in
modern Ghana, the Portuguese mariners Fernandes and Esteve located a place that had
“‘huge quantities of the purest gold and could be exchanged for cheap trade goods of
cloth and metal.’”
88
In Upper Guinea, the Portuguese derisively called these northern
Europeans “foreigners” because the former jealously defended Guiné as their own, since
the papal bull of the 1481 granted them exclusive rights to the territory east of the
meridian line and the islands of Cape Verde. These “foreigners” sought to include panu
as part of their commodities, because African rulers preferred this commodity in their
commercial transactions. “Trading material goods and trading slaves were both
international activities in the pre-industrialized era. Europe exported a wide variety of
goods to Africa during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The largest volume of trade
Heinemann, 2002); and Carolyn Keyes, Adire: Cloth, Gender and Social Change in
Southwestern Nigeria, 1841–1991 (University of Wisconsin, Madison, 1993).
87
George Brooks, Landlords and Strangers: Ecology, Society, and Trade in Western
Africa, 1000–1630 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993), 166.
88
Stephanie E. Smallwood, Saltwater Slavery: A Middle Passage from Africa to
American Diaspora (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), 11.
38
goods at the time was cloth, and ‘a whole world of textiles of dozens of types by the
seventeenth century.’”
89
Local aristocratic families, including elite women, had the finest dresses, whereas
commoners and slaves were plainly dressed, such as in Wolof, Mandinka, and Fula
communities. Due to the egalitarian nature of small-scale societies, members dressed
alike. Across the region, the ways individuals dressed was influenced by their age as well
as marital status. For example, unwedded women went bare except for loincloth or cotton
cloth, but not all coastal communities adhered to this social practice and fashion. In some
communities, such as Beafada, matrimony required that women adorn themselves with a
large panu shawl to symbolize their new social status.
In the Senegambia region, which had a longstanding relationship with Sanhanja
Muslim traders, the dress of the aristocratic class had already been Islamized by the time
Europeans reached the region. In 1455, Alvise da Cadamosto visited Zucholin, king of
the Jolof Empire. The king’s retinue was all dressed in fine garb. The aristocrats and
important people wore cotton shirt and breeches. The Wolof grew cotton in the Senegal
River region and Wolof women spun the cotton into a cloth about a “span in width.”
90
Cadamosto thought that they did not possess the knowledge “to card it for weaving.”
Instead, they sewed four or five bands (or strips) together to make larger panu. These
cotton shirts extended to the thigh; the sleeves were wide and reached the elbow. The
89
90
Harmer, “The Effects of ‘Cloth Politics’ in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,” 4.
A General Collection of Voyages and Discoveries, made by the Portuguese and
Spaniards, fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries (London: W. Richardson; J. Bew; T.
Hookham; J. and T. Egerton; and C. Stalker, 1789), 61–62. This gendered aspect of the
spinning the cotton shirt also speaks to the gendered nature of cloth making, which was
transplanted to Cape Verde; G. R. Cone (ed. and trans.), The Voyages of Cadamosto
(London: Hakluyt Society, 1937), 31–32.
39
91
Wolofs also manufactured large cotton breeches made of about forty palmi.
Cadamosto
wrote, “When they are girded round the waist, they are much crumpled and form a sack
in front.” The huge petticoat-like shirt and voluminous pants amused Cadamosto,
whereas African rulers, chiefs, and provincial leaders sauntered with an ostentatious
demeanor believing their attire was the most exquisite garb in the world. Like any elite
class, they boasted about their dress, because it revealed their superior rank in society.
In contrast to the elites, the dress of commoners in centralized societies in the
Senegambia region, such as the Jolof kingdom, utilized goatskin to cover their midsection. Married and single women wrapped a cotton cloth around their waist that
reached the middle of their legs, and wore a girdle beneath. For the commoners, both
sexes went barefoot and wore no headgear. In 1587, André Almada, a mestiço Cape
Verdean from Ribeira Grande, Santiago Island, wrote that the Wolof in Senegal made
black and white cloth with a variety of patterns by dyeing it with indigo.
92
In what is now Gambia, Cadamosto noted that, “They [Mande] do not go naked,
like the Negroes of Senegal, but cover themselves with cotton cloth; and by reason of the
93
abundance of this production, the women are equally adorned.”
At this time, the
Gambian region had a relatively abundant cotton supply, which allowed the Mande to
manufacture ample cotton cloth.
91
The measurement for palmi varied across place and period, but it is estimated that 10
palmi equaled about 2 meters. Cadamosto does not specify if it was a man or a woman
that made the cotton breeches.
92
André Alvares Almada, Brief Treatise on the Rivers of Guinea. Translated by P. E. H.
Hair (Liverpool, UK: University of Liverpool, Department of History, 1984), Ch 2, f.18–
19.
93
A Collection of Voyages, 79.
40
Islam and Changing African Aesthetics on the Upper Guinea Coast
With the gradual process of Islamization in the Senegambia region of Upper
Guinea, an Islamic material culture affected the upper social strata of Wolof, Mandinka,
and Fula societies. As such, African rulers began to don shirts and pants, but this did not
appear to be uniform among these communities. In this region, Islamized Africans and
Portuguese traders brought about change in coastal people’s dress.
94
Islam also influenced Iberian dress. For example, the Portuguese brought cloths,
particularly the Alentejo blanket from southern Portugal, but also Islamic-inspired
clothing, such as alquicés, bedéis, alzimbas, and ferragoilos,
95
from North Africa. In the
Senegambia, most European travelers noticed the Islamic dress of the African
aristocracies; thus, cloths traded by the Portuguese were already in circulation, at least to
some extent, via the trans-Saharan trade.
Moreover, Labelle Prussin persuasively argues that the Sanhanja (Berber), as
propagators of Islam, merchants, and transhumance pastoralists, who moved livestock
from one grazing ground due to seasonal change, spread “Judaic threads” into the West
African tapestry. According to Prussin, Jewish patterns influenced the Portuguese
Alentejo cloth design, which in turn, contributed to one of the patterns in panu di terra.
Before the downfall of the Moorish Empire, the cultural exchange between Muslims,
94
Carreira, “A Urzela e o pano de vestir—dois produtos de exportação,” Revistq do
Centro de Estudos de Cabo Verde, Série Ciências Humanas, Praia 1, no. 1 (1973): 24.
95
Spelt also as bedees (bedéis) is a short tunic, see Malyn Newitt (trans.), The
Portuguese in West Africa, 1415–1670: A Documentary History (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2010), 78. Alzimba was also called zuba was a Moorish silk coat or
“surcoat” or an outer garment in The Voyages of Cadamosto, 68.
41
Christians, and Jews, especially in Andalusia in Spain, was significant.
96
During the
eleventh century, Gellar avers that Islamic traders and missionaries introduced Islam to
the Fulas, under War Jabi (the Fula ruler of Takrur, northern part of Senegal), before the
Almoravid (i.e., the Moors) extended their empire into Morocco and Spain during the last
97
quarter of the eleventh century.
Nonetheless, the Islamic influence on clothing was
limited to the aristocratic class, and these patterns were woven into the variety of textile
designs. This influence was restricted to the Senegambia during the sixteenth century.
Concerning aristocratic dress of the Wolof on the Cape Verde peninsula, in 1602 Pieter
de Marees wrote that these rulers wore caps, long cotton shirts, square leather bags as
protective amulets on their arms and legs, and a “paternoster made of Seahorse
[hippopotamus] teeth” on their necks.
98
Hats were another important marker of social status. During the early sixteenth
century, Koli Tengela, king of the Denanke Kingdom or as the Portuguese called it, the
Empire of Great Fulo), wore an elaborate hat while on a military expedition against the
Jolof Empire. Unus Jata, a Mandinka griot, recalled, “Koli Tengela left Denya. He came
with a nine-cornered hat and a pair of trousers called bibirikin. The hat had nine different
colors. They made it in the shape of a mansa’s hat, but it had nine corners and was made
96
Stuart B. Schwartz, All Can Be Saved: Religious Tolerance and Salvation in the
Iberian World (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008).
97
S. Gellar, Senegal: An African Nation between Islam and the West (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1995), 2–3.
98
Pieter de Marees, Description and Historical Account of the Gold Kingdom of Guinea
(1602), translated from Dutch and edited by Albert van Dantzig and Adam Jones
(London: British Academy; published by arrangement by Oxford University Press, 1978),
11.
42
99
of cotton cloth. That was their symbol of leadership.”
Mansa means “king” in
Mandinka, which suggests that invoking the Fula king’s hat, that symbolized his
leadership with the Mandinka, who were the elite class of the Mali Empire, that was the
most powerful political entity, was to convey the Fula king’s extraordinary authority.
The wearing of hats was a widespread phenomenon in Upper Guinea among
hierarchical and small-scale societies. In Upper Guinea, Almada noted that African men
were known for snatching the hats off the heads of Europeans, and he suggested that
100
these were acts of bravery linked to being a man.
Among the Balanta, after the rite of
passage (fanado) in which a male becomes an elder, the initiate dons a red cap to display
his achievement. The color red was important because it was difficult to make in Africa.
“Any fabrics that contained a dense red dye were prized. Scarlet red was produced in
101
Europe in a brighter shade then local African dyers could achieve.”
The king of Benin
102
Empire controlled who could wear scarlet wool.
Hairstyles also could indicate one’s social standing. For instance:
In those days, all the men grew great big tufts of hair on their heads. It was
not plaited. When the Wolof woman came to Bankere and observed this
practice, she said to her husband, ‘You look like every one of your
followers. You all have this great big tuft of hair. Let me plait your hair so
that you will look different from them. When visitors come to your town
99
The Empire of Great Fulo was in the Futa Tooro region of what is now northern
Senegal. Donald R. Wright, Oral Traditions From the Gambia, Vol. I: Mandinka Griots
(Papers in International Studies Africa Series No. 37) (Athens: Ohio University Center
for International Studies Program, 1979), 31. Donald R. Wright interviewed Unus Jata in
1974 and 1975. A bibirikin was most likely a fashionable trouser reserved for kings.
100
Walter Hawthorne and Clara Carvalho, “Guinea-Bissau,” in Berg Encyclopeida of
World Dress and Fashion. Africa (Oxford: Berg, 2010), 258–3.
101
Harmer, “The Effects of ‘Cloth Politics’ in the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,” 2.
102
Kriger, Cloth in West African History, 36.
43
they will know who is the leader.’
103
Thus, hats, hairstyles, pouches, and other accessories indicated who held power. These
societies conceived of power on political and supernatural grounds that granted
legitimacy to the ruler. Moreover, dress illustrated masculinity and femininity, which was
central to performance of identities. Carreira presupposes that panu was used by elites of
hierarchical society, such as the almamy (Islamic rulers), rulers, chiefs, and baloubeiros
(healers). It is possible that this assertion is more applicable at the beginning of the panuslave trade, but with the centuries of trading with Upper Guinea, the panu di terra
became available to common people, especially in the Cacheu region. Of course, the most
expensive panus remained almost exclusively for the elites in Upper Guinea, but given
the diversity and price range of panu, it became more accessible to ordinary people.
In small-scale societies in Upper Guinea, dress was less elaborate due in part to
the ecological, political, and sociocultural structure. Cotton was scarce south of the
Gambia River, which meant it had to be imported from their neighbors to the north.
Given their numerous independent compounds (moranças or kundas), there was greater
diversity of local dresses. In the sixteenth century, along the Upper Guinea Coast,
numerous groups went nude or covered themselves with leaves or animal hides. Almada
noticed that the Bañun and Kasangas dressed alike in shirts, used “wrap-around cloths[,]
104
and some” donned “breeches.”
Sometimes, the breeches were made of goatskin or
palm-leaves. The Beafada men dressed like the Bañun and Kasangas, but they had a
greater tendency to adorn themselves with goatskin. Beafada “nobles wear an iron ring on
103
104
Wright, Oral Traditions From the Gambia, Vol. I, 35.
Almada, A Brief Treatise, Chap. 9, 78.
44
their thumb.” Beafada women wore “short cloths” that reached “midway down the leg.”
Perhaps due to customs related to the age-groupings, girls utilized small pieces of cloth to
conceal their midsections, but, after marriage, they dressed like the aforementioned adult
women.
Although the Nalus lived in close proximity to the Beafadas, they dressed and
spoke a different language. The Beafadas had assimilated some Mande culture, though
they retained their own distinct identity. The Nalus who lived inland, in Bisegue (near the
Grande River), interacted with the Beafadas, but were aloof to whites. With their pierced
noses, Nalu men concealed their midriff, but left their scrotums hanging out. The Nalu
made many “designs,” beauty marks, or “scarifications” on their legs and neck, and the
women made marks on their faces.
105
Perhaps, the beauty marks showed their totemic
clan, personal history, and other social markers that their communities understood.
106
Nalu women, whether married or single, wore only a goatskin loincloth. Almada also
reckoned that the Nalus, Bagas, Cocolins, and Sapes understood each other and dressed
alike in shirts and breeches. In Papel communities, a noble wore cotton cloth, but the
poor wore goatskin; if they could not obtain goatskin, they made their dress from cide, a
107
tree indigenous to Upper Guinea.
Thus, there were a plethora of fashions and styles of dress among small-scale
societies, and panu was becoming a central part of cultural expressions. Like the
105
106
Almada, A Brief Treatise, Chap. 13, 1.
A similar group, Manjacos, had beauty marks see, António Carreira, “Mutilações
étnicas dos Manjacos,” Boletim Cultural de Guiné Portuguesa 16, no. 61 (1961): 83–102.
107
Manuel Álavres, Ethiopia Minor and a Geographical Account of the Province of
Sierra Leone. Translated by P. E. H. Hair (Liverpool, UK: University of Liverpool,
Department of History, September 30, 1990), Chap. 8, 1.
45
centralized societies in the region, hats, hairstyles, jewelry, particularly those tied to
supernatural beliefs, played a key role in the dress and fashions of these communities.
However, African groups, like Nalu, Buramos, Floup, and Balanta had tended to have
more body marks, than Islamized Africans, particularly body designs and filed teeth.
Early Atlantic Slave Trade in the Upper Guinea Coast
In the ports on the Rivers of Guinea, stretching from Casamance to Sierra Leone,
some utilized cotton to make cloth, whereas other Africans exchanged the cotton for
slaves, ivory, cotton cloth, or iron. At this time, Portuguese subjects traded Fogo cotton
for slaves, ivory, panu, and iron
108
like some of their African counterparts. The former
returned to Ribeira Grande with slaves and cotton cloth. Along the Casamance and
Gambia Rivers and coast, Portuguese subjects bartered iron bars along the coast for
slaves, kola, cloth, and beeswax. Masatamba, king of Kasa, had good relations with the
Portuguese subjects of Cape Verde and the latter traded iron, along with commodities, for
slaves, whereas along the Gambia River, Portuguese/Cape Verdeans obtained diverse
items, including cotton, gold, and slaves.
Along the Gambia River and in Portual and Joal (in what today is Senegal), there
was a lively commercial activity by a vibrant small Portuguese/Cape Verdean community
that in 1606 Pieter Van Den Broecke, a Dutch trader on his way to Angola, was shocked
109
to discover.
The Portuguese authorities derisively called them lançado, meaning those
banished to distant land, but they were mostly New Christians that had escaped the
108
109
Torrão, “O Algodão da Ilha do Fogo,” 48.
Pieter Van Den Broecke, Journal of Voyages to Cape Verde, Guinea and Angola
(1605–1612). Translated and edited by J. D. La Fleur. (3rd Series No. 5). (London:
Hakluyt Society, 2000), 41.
46
Portuguese Inquisition. “They gather here around 100 to 150 slaves, which they ship to
[Cacheu] or [São Domingos, Buguendo], and from there embark for the West Indies,
where they gather together a great fortune from the slaves and then return, when they
have been pardoned, to Portugal to retire.”
110
In the African form of economies, these exiles tried to accumulate capital in the
111
form of slaves, and subsequently convert these to “imperial currency.”
If successful,
they sought a pardon from the Crown and a return to Portugal. Lançados were usually
unsuccessful, but rather they preferred to stay in Upper Guinea or move to Brazil, rather
than return to Portugal. In 1623, while along the Gambian River, Jobson, an English
trader, noticed that lançados self-identified as “Portingales,” who purchased slaves from
112
local ruler and sold them to Spanish ships destined to the Caribbean.
Besides Portuguese in Cacheu purchasing slaves directly from African
communities, lançados came to the market in Cachen with slaves from Gambia and
Casamance. Thus, slaves leaving the port of Cacheu did not necessarily from the Cacheu
region, but may have come from as far away as Portudal and Joal. Not all of these slaves
were bound to the West Indies—some trickled into Cape Verde. By the sixteenth century,
the majority of slaves coming to Cape Verde were predominantly from the Casamance to
the limits of Nuno River in Sierra Leone.
In the Guinala region, circa seventeenth century, the Beafada held a market event
called “Bijorei,” which was quite popular, reportedly drawing 12,000 people. In the
110
111
112
Broecke, Journal of Voyages, 41.
Broecke, Journal of Voyages, 41.
Richard Jobson, The Olden Trade, or a Discovery of the River Gambra (London:
Nicholas Okes, 1623), 35–40.
47
market, merchants sold slaves, cows, food items, and clothes.
113
Trajano Filho argues the
diverse crowd exchanged not only merchandises, but ideas as well; the market
represented a place of “archetypal agents of creolization.”
114
By the early sixteenth century, the Portuguese had established two main ports or
centers in panu-slave trade: Rio Grande de Buba (Big River of Buba) and Biguga and
Cacheu, which the Portuguese called São Domingos. In Cacheu, African merchants
provided Buramos, Bijagós, Nalus, and Mandinkas Beafada slaves in exchange for cotton
115
cloth, food, iron, horses, cows, kola, and calfs.
The Portuguese from Cape Verde
provided the cotton cloth, horses, and iron. The kola came from Sierra Leone and panu di
terra circulated from the Gambia region to Sierra Leone.
By the late sixteenth century, there was an active textile industry in the Cacheu
region. Francisco de Andrade said that cotton from Fogo and the Gambia region were
116
imported to manufacture clothes, which were sold to communities along the coast.
The dye used to make cloth came from groups such as the Bagas and Cocolins, who were
located further south. They made dye from certain trees, such as ivy, by crushing the
leaves were crushed into heaps resembling sugar and then wrapped in cabopa leaves.
117
Merchants along the Nuno River exported this dye to Cacheu, where the Portuguese
purchased high-quality indigo, which was imported to Cape Verde for the textile
113
Arquivo Histórico Colonial, Boletim do Arquivo Histórico Colonial (BAHC), Vol. 1,
1950 (Lisbon, Portugal: Articor, 1950), 90.
114
Filho, “Polymorphic Creoldum,” 64–65.
115
116
117
BAHC, vol.1, 90.
MMA, 2 series, Vol. 3, 105; Torrão, “O Algodão da Ilha do Fogo,” 48.
Almada, A Brief Treatise, Chap. 13, 3–4.
48
industry. The weavers in the Cacheu region employed the dye to make black cloth, which
was the popular—and preferred—color.
By the seventeenth century, panu di terra had surpassed all other fabrics,
including European, Indian as well as indigenous textiles in popularity. In 1612, the Papel
King of Bussis on island of Pecixe, near Bissau, purchased luxury goods from European
merchants. The Papel king, “in order to dress well he cuts up silks and other expensive
cloths, and does so more lavishly . . . quantity of silks and other textiles sent to him by his
admirers in this Guinea.”
118
Donelha marveled at the king’s collections, and indicated
that the Papel King was an ostentatious dresser.
Within this house he keeps many trunks and boxes full of different articles
of clothing, such as very elaborate smocks, doublets and breeches, [also]
sheets, coverlets and canopies made of different pieces of silk, and items
in gold and silver. These goods, apart from the ones left him by his uncle
and predecessor, he has brought and continues to buy from the Portuguese
who come there with their ships to obtain slaves.
By 1615, Avity, a French explorer, wrote that residents of Ribeira Grande manufactured
panu di terra, which was sold in Upper Guinea.
Luso-Africans from Santiago had good relations with the Papel state of Cacanda
in the Cacheu region. They lived in Vila Fria (“Cold Settlement”) and dressed
119
extravagantly in silk, damask imported from India and China.
Out of the 1,500 people
in this town, consisting of Iberian Portuguese and natives from Santiago, there were 500
soldiers. It was also probable that panu was part of the elaborate dress of the Luso-
118
119
Álvares, Ethiopia Minor, Chap. 8, 3.
Newitt, The Portuguese in West Africa, 207–8.
49
120
African elites in Vila Fria.
In the seventeenth century, in the market place in Bissau,
the Balanta traded cows, goats, and other items with Papels in exchange for “Santiago
cloth and oil.”
121
Like the Diola, the Balanta did not directly deal with “white” men,
such as lançados and Luso-Africans, some of who were brown and black but culturally
different. Africans identified those involved in the slave trade as as cannibals
122
whether
Europeans or Africans. Luso-Africans and lançados exchanged beads, Indian and
European textiles, panu, salt, wine, and grogu (brandy produced by slaves in Cape
Verde) with African merchants in exchange for captives.
During the mid-seventeenth century, European travelers described the
pervasiveness of wearing of panu among other clothing items, which reflects the
transformation of fashion due to the vibrant trade in cloth. Thornton refers to the dress of
signares (female Franco-African merchants, who were cultural brokers) as exemplifying
Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics, but this aesthetics was also linked to internal fashion.
In 1615, Father Manuel Álvares emphatically asserted that Wolof women were the most
fashionable in “Guinea,” particularly those in the Kingdom of Lambaia [Lumbaay],
123
which was the main city of the inland kingdom of Bawol.
The women of Lumbaay
produced cotton yarns. In Senegambia, dyers utilized pure indigo (indigo tinctoria),
124
which came from the interior of the savanna region.
120
121
122
123
124
Given that the phrase means “cold town,” perhaps there was a need to dress modestly.
Álvares, Ethiopia Minor, Chap. 11, 1.
Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil, 88.
Álvares, Ethiopia Minor, Chap. 1, 7–8, 12.
Pieter van den Broecke, Pieter van den Broecke’s Journal of Voyages, 40, 1n.
50
Álvares wrote that by the seventeenth century the production of cotton and
textiles had increased in the region. In 1668, Le Maire wrote that female commoners in
Senegambia wore a cotton cloth like a petticoat around their waists, but wrapped it
around their bodies when the weather was cooler “The girls and boys go quite naked to
the age of eleven or twelve. The women and men adorn their arms and legs with corral,
125
and bracelets of gold, silver, tin, and copper, according to their ability.”
At the end of the seventeenth century, Portuguese/Luso-African traders had made
significant inroads in establishing themselves. In fact, this was the beginning of “coastal
colonialism,” but African communities and rulers still controlled the coastal territories at
this time. Powerful kings like the Papel from Pecixe demanded tribute from “strangers.”
On September 26, 1670, Príncipe Regente D. Pedro noted that Portuguese paid, via the
captain-major of Cacheu, tribute to the “Black King” of “forty quintals of cotton, one
hundred sixty barrels of wine, one hundred eighty cruzados (then Portuguese currency)
and imported money valued at five hundred and seventy-nine thousand réis.”
126
The
representatives of the Portuguese Empire negotiated with European cloths, panu, and
127
grogu
to satisfy African taste.
125
Jacques-Joseph Le Maire, A new voyage to the East-Indies in the years 1690 and
1691 being a full description of the isles of Maldives, Cicos, Andamants, and the Isle of
Ascention by Monsieur Duquesne ; to which is added, a new description of the Canary
Islands, Cape Verd, Senegal, and Gambia; done into English from the Paris edition
(London: Printed for Daniel Dring, 1696), 73.
126
BAHC, Vol.1, 103.
127
Concerning alcohol and slave trade by the Luso-Brazilians, see José Curto, Enslaving
Spirits: The Portuguese-Brazilian Alcohol Trade at Luanda and Its Hinterland, c. 1550–
1830 (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2004).
51
African captives hailing from Upper Guinea arrived at the Cape Verde Islands
with their cultural heritage. The Cape Verde archipelago is situated between 283 and 448
miles off the west coast of Senegal in the Atlantic Ocean. It consists of ten islands
divided into the barlavento (windward) islands of São Vicente, São Nicolau, Santo
Antão, Boavista and Sal, and Santa Luzia, and sotavento (leeward) islands of Maio,
Santiago, Fogo, and Brava. In the 1460s and 1470s, animal husbandry and cotton
128
cultivation began in Cape Verde.
According to royal letters, there was indication of
spontaneous growth of cotton in the islands as early as 1472. A royal letter of September
129
30, 1481 authorized Pedro Lourenço to contract whomever wanted to trade the cotton.
Christopher Columbus noted the existence of cotton in Cape Verde in 1490, followed by
Duarte Pacheco and Valentime Fernandes in the early sixteenth century. By the late
fifteenth century, the local landowners had begun the cultivation of cotton in Fogo and
Santiago.
According to Torrão, in the sixteenth century, Cape Verde exported cotton to
Upper Guinea and (to a lesser extent) Europe. In addition, they used it to produce panu di
terra.
130
When it comes to the transition to the production of this, Torrão does not
provide any specific period in the establishment this textile industry in Cape Verde. There
128
Concerning cotton, see João Barreto, Historia da Guiné, 1418–1918 (Lisbon,
Portugal: Edição do Autor), 70; and Edmund Correia Lopes, Escravatura: Subsídios para
a sua Historia (Lisbon, Portugal: Agência Geral do Ultramar, 1944), 52; concerning
horses, see Hall, “The Role of Cape Verde Islanders”; and George Brooks, Landlords and
Strangers: Ecology, Society and Trade in Western Africa, 1000–1630 (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1993), 127.
129
António Carreira, “A Urzela e o pano de vestir,” 22.
130
Maria Manuel Torrão, “Subsídios para a História Geral de Cabo Verde: O Algodão
da Ilha do Fogo: Uma Matéria-Prima de Produção Afro-Europeia para uma Manufactura
Africana,” Magma 3, nos. 5/6 (1990): 48.
52
are three proposed periods for the development of cotton textile industry in Cape Verde.
First, Green assumes that by 1480 cotton textile production was in full swing on Fogo
131
and Santiago.
Second, Kriger claims that Cape Verde established its cotton textile
industry only after mid-sixteenth century.
132
Third, António Carreira suggests that by
1517 producing this lucrative item was a reality in Cape Verde.
133
Carreira refers to an
anonymous Portuguese pilot who passed Cape Verde circa 1520–40, and who referred
not only to the existence of planting cotton as well as the great diversity of designs and
colors of panu exported to Upper Guinea.
134
The pilot wrote that in Santiago, “They
plant the cotton, which produces well, and afterwards, it is collected; they manufacture
them to make diverse types of colored panus, which are all exported to the coast of
Africa in exchange for slaves.”
135
We can estimate that there was a transition to panu
making between 1480 and 1520. Carreira suggests that by 1582, there was a dramatic
increase in the slave population:
The population of Santiago and Fogo grew quickly in the first years.
Simão Barros has estimated about 8,000 souls in 1468. This apparently
131
Toby Green, “Building Slavery in the Atlantic World: Atlantic Connections and the
Changing Institution of Slavery in Cabo Verde, Fifteenth-Sixteenth Centuries,” Slavery
and Abolition 32, no. 2 (2011): 232.
132
Coleen Kriger, “Cotton Textile Production in West Africa, 1000–1450,” in The
Spinning World: A Global History of Cotton Textiles, 1200–1850, edited by Giorgio
Riello and Prasannan Parthasarathi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 116.
133
António Carreira, Panaria Cabo-Verdeano Guinneense (Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto
Caboverdeano do Livro, 1983), 2.
134
Carreira, “A Urzela e o pano de vestir” in Revista de Centro de Estuos Cabo Verde,
Série Ciências. Humanas (Praia, Cape Verde, 1973), 22.
135
Viagem de Lisboa à ilha de S. Tomé: escrita por um piloto português; tradução da
língua italiana para portuguesa por Sebastião Francisco de Mendo Trigoso, with an
introduction and notes by Augusto Reis Machado (Lisbon, Portugal: Portugália Editora,
194?). For an English translation, see Newitt, The Portuguese in West Africa, 154.
53
includes the whole population, free and slave, including slaves for export.
Even so, it seems exaggerated. Brásio, excluding the slave population,
gives 162 individuals in 1513 in Ribeira Grande—58 white male
‘inhabitants’ (not showing families), 56 natives of Portugal, 12 priests, 4
single white women, 16 black men and 16 black women. By 1549, the
“inhabitants” of the two Captaincies [Ribeira Grande in the south and
Alcatraz in the north both in island of Santiago] had reached 1,200; by
1572, it had risen to 12,000 and by 1582 to 15,700. The data for 1513 and
for 1549 make no allusion to those of mixed descent—mestiços and
pardos—who are singled out only in 1582, “600 white and Pardo men,”
with “400 free married blacks” (in the inland parishes of Santiago) and
300 “inhabitants” on Fogo. In Ribeira Grande and Praia, the “inhabitants”
136
totaled 708, and the slaves, acclimatized or newly arrived, 13,700.
In 1582, Francisco de Andrade, captain major of Santiago, provided the following
census: of the slaves on Santiago Island, there 5,700 slaves in Ribeira Grande, 1,000 in
Praia and 5,000 in the interior; and 2,000 on Fogo Island, for a total of 13,700; in the
interior of Santiago, there were 400 married manumitted slaves; 508 moradores
(residents) and vizinhos (neighbors) in Ribeira Grande; 200 in Praia; 600 in the interior of
137
Santiago; and 300 in Fogo, for a total of 1,608 moradores and vizinhos.
The
identification of moradores and vizinhos was not solely based on skin color, and could
have included individuals of African descent. Hence, with black African slaves, the
textile industry was fully operational in Fogo and Santiago islands.
The Portuguese used cotton, panu, horses, salt, hides, European and Indian
textiles, and grogu to initiate a commercial relationship with communities in this part of
Africa. According to Torrão, contrary to what happened in other parts of Africa in the
136
António Carreira, The People of the Cape Verde Islands, Exploitation and
Emigration, translated from the Portuguese and edited by Christopher Fyfe (Hamden,
CT: Archon Books, 1982), 6.
137
Francisco de Andrade, “Relação de Francisco de Andrade sobre as ilhas de Cabo
Verde,” in António Brásio, ed., Monumenta Missionaria Africana, 2nd series, (Lisbon,
Portugal: Agência geral do ultramar/Academica Portuguesa de História, 1964), Vol. 3:
97–107.
54
sixteenth century, in the Cacheu region, Africans imported raw material from Cape Verde
138
islands to sustain their textile industry.
Moradores exported Fogo cotton to the regions
of Gambia as well as Casamance. Although cotton was grown in Santiago, Fogo was the
principle source of cotton production. There were two trade routes: Lisbon–Fogo–Guiné–
Lisbon and Santiago–Fogo–Santiago–Guinea. Ribeira Grande sent slaves and corn to
Fogo via the second circuit in return for cotton. Ribeira Grande port received slaves from
Upper Guinea; slavinesin Santiago cultivated the corn sent to Fogo. Due to the paucity of
historical documentation, it is unclear which circuit was more popular. However, given
that Ribeira Grande was such a strategic outpost for the Portuguese Empire during its
maritime expansion, ships used the second circuit more frequently. According to the
accounts from Europeans explorers and merchants, ships stopped more often in Ribeira
Grande for provisions, before sailing on to the Americas, central Africa.
Nonetheless, Fogo was unable to provide all the cotton requested by the captains
of ships going to Cacheu. Given the high demand and popularity of cotton in Gambia,
Casamance, Cacheu, and Upper Guinea in general, officials of Casa da Mina urged the
cotton farms of Fogo to become financially independent to mitigate the contraband trade
by residents in Ribeira Grande. The lucrative markets for cotton in Upper Guinea caused
an increase in the price of slaves. This might be another reason for the transition to panu
as the main export to Upper Guinea—to secure greater value in the barter exchange
system.
138
Torrão, “O Algodão da Ilha do Fogo,” 49. Was this unique or were there other cases
of Africans importing raw materials from Europeans? In general, the historiography of
the Atlantic slave trade argues that Africans imported manufactured goods.
55
Broadly speaking, the cotton-slave trade between Cape Verde and Upper Guinea
was part of a larger commercial network in which slaves eventually became the main
commodity for European merchants. As such, the Iberian Portuguese in Cape Verde
made a transition from providing cotton for panu to securing slaves from Upper Guinea,
because it provided a competitive advantage, particularly given that Portuguese did not
have abundance of iron and other goods compared to other Europeans.
By the early sixteenth century, the Portuguese had introduced indigo to the
archipelago.
139
Because Almada wrote that Cacheu imported indigo from Nalus in the
Rio Grande, it might have come to the islands via Cacheu or Guinala. The knowledge of
dyeing indigo must have come from Upper Guinea, because the Portuguese used pastel to
140
dye cloth in Portugal.
Portuguese had intense interaction and contact was with Africa,
which suggests that slaves derived from Upper Guinea came with this skill of dyeing
indigo Upper Guinea. Knight suggests that in the British Atlantic planters sought West
Africans who had knowledge of growing indigo in places like Barbados, Antigua,
139
Carreira, “A urzela e o pano de vestir,” 23; António Carreira and Raymond Mauny
suggested it was the Arabs who introduced weaving and cotton to West African. In Pieter
Van Den Broecke’s Journal, La Fleur suggested that Asia is the origin for “pure indigo”
(Indigo tinctoria), cotton (Gossypium). and loom used in the West African textile
industry. In Wikipeida, “gossypium” is believed to be derived from the Arabic word
“goz,” which describes a soft substance. Daniel Pereira argued that Indigofera tinctoria
(i.e., pure indigo) was originally from India and made its way to Africa via the Arabs.
The latter call it “nil” (blue). Moreover, the word “indigo” may have been deirved from
the word “indium,” which the ancients coined this substance because of its association
with India, notes Pereira. The Portuguese and Castilian retained word “anil” from “nil”
for indigo; Daniel Pereira, Estudos da História de Cabo Verde, 2nd ed. (Praia, Cape
Verede: Alfa-Comunicações, 2005), 309.
140
Pereira, Estudos para historias de Cabo Verde, 302.
56
141
Carolinian, and French Caribbean.
Knight acknowledges that dyeing indigo
knowledge derived from the mainland to Cape Verde Islands, then to the Americas,
where it flourished in beautifying cloths.
142
Thus, the importance of African expertise
becomes apparent.
In 1587, Almada, an elite mestiço Cape Verdean, reported that from the São
Domingos River (also known as the Cacheu River), those African communities supplied
143
more slaves to Cape Verde.
From the port of Cacheu River, enslaved Africans that
landed in the port of Ribeira Grande, Santiago were “Banhuns [Bañun], Buramos
[Brame/Bran], Casangas [Kasanga], Jabundos, Falupos, Arriatas, Balantas.”
145
were also excellent weavers
144
Bañun
and linguistic evidence that Bañun slaves were influential
in Fogo, perhaps, comes through with the word, “Djagasidu derived from Bañun, means
mixed.”
146
For example, the representative dish of Fogo is Djagasida, a dish of farinha
(corn or cassava flour), beans, pork, and collard greens.
141
Frederick C. Knight, “In an Ocean of Blue: West African Indigo Workers in the
Atlantic to 1800,” in Working the Diaspora: The Impact of African Labor on the AngloAmerican World, 1650–1850 (New York: New York University Press, 2010), 87–109.
142
Knight, “In an Ocean of Blue,” 93.
143
António Brásio, Monumenta Missionaria Africana (MMA II): Africa occidental, 2nd
series, (Lisbon, Portugal: Agência Geral do Ultramar, Divisão de Publicações e
Biblioteca; Centro de Estudos Africanos da Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de
Lisboa, 1958), vol. 3, 27.
144
Brásio, MMA II, Vol. 3, 27.
145
146
Brooks, Landlords and Strangers, 89–90.
Havik, “Kriol without Creoles,” 31n, 67.
57
A significant number of slaves in Cape Verde must have been Buramos, given
that they were a prominent component of early Spanish colonies.
147
In 1606, Baltasar
Pereira said that Buramos were Papels, and other scholars have shown that Buramos are
148
part of the sociolinguist group Papel-Mancanhan-Mandjaco.
Buramos dominated the
Cacheu region and received cotton from Cape Verde and the Gambian region to make
cotton cloth. During the colonial period, panu in Guinea-Bissau was associated with
Mandjaco-Papel. As such, it was not the exclusive realm of Mandinka and Wolof
specialties. Weaving technology was a widespread knowledge in Upper Guinea, rather
than dominated by one group, just like various communities on the coast practiced
risiculture.
The production of panu involved five phases: (1) cultivation and harvest, (2)
collecting cotton, (3) carding and spinning it, (4) dying, and (5) weaving it to make
elaborate cloth strips. This entire process linked labor to social practices and beliefs that
created a social world.
149
Carreira notes that there were two places in which the process
was done: in ofinicais (workshops) and and domestic settings. In both cases, the work
was performed outdoors. In the ofinicais, slaves worked on horizontal looms in the farms
or casa-grande (mansions) of slaveholders. The horizontal looms were replica of their
147
Rachel Sarah O’Toole, “From the Rivers of Guinea to the Valleys of Peru, Becoming
a Bran Diaspora Within Spanish Slavery,” Social Text 25, No. 92 (2007): 19–36.
148
Quoted in Avelino Teixeira da Mota, ed., Jesuit Documents on the Guinea of Cape
Verde and the Cape Verde Islands, 1585–1617. Translated by P. E. H. Hair (Liverpool,
UK: University of Liverpool, Department of History, 1989), doc. 16.
149
António Correio e Silva, “A Sociedade Agrária Gentes das Águas,” in História Geral
de Cabo Verde, Vol. II, 2nd ed., arrangment by Maria Emília Madeira Santos, (Lisbon,
Portugal: Centro de Estudos de História e Cartografia Antiga Instituto de Investigação
Científica Tropical; Praia: Instituto Nacional de Investigação Cultural Cabo Verde,
2001), 315–23.
58
counterparts from Upper Guinea. Initially, the looms were likely imported directly from
this region and only latter did slaveholders purposely purchased African captives, who
were artisan makers of this machine. On the farms, cotton and indigo were produced on
site. These farms tended to be in the interior of Fogo and Santiago Islands, where fertile
land was plentiful. Some slaveholders had as many as thirty slaves just for weaving panu.
In domestic settings, there was usually one loom, but up to two in the quintal
(backyard). The looms were usually in the rural area of small proprietors or casa de
morada (residential homes). Production capacity in domestic settings was less than in
oficinais. Sometimes slaves had other agricultural labor to perform. Production also
depended on the availability of the materials, such as cotton. There was panu for local
use as well as for exchange on the Guinea coast, but slave weavers also manufactured
table napkins, towels, and bed sheets.
The gendered division of manufacturing panu in Upper Guinea continued in Cape
Verde.
150
Slaves or people of low social status dominated the weaving profession.
151
It
was the female slave that collected the indigo leaves to make the dye. In addition, female
150
Carreira, Panaria, 53; Thomas Bentley Duncan, Atlantic Islands; Madeira, the
Azores, and the Cape Verdes in seventeenth-century commerce and navigation (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1972), 219–22.
151
António Carreira, “Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa na Área
Compreendida entre o Rio Senegal e O Norte da Serra Leoa.” Separata da «Actas do
Congresso Internacional de Ethnografia», Promovido Pela Câmara Municipal de Santo
Tirso, de 10 a 18 de Julho de 1963, Vol. 4 (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de Investigações do
Ultramar, 1965), 37. Duncan, however, noted that Walter Rodney would disagree with
this assertion as well as others.
59
152
slaves also collected cotton and spun it into the threads used in the final product.
Male
slaves worked the looms and turned the cotton thread into intricate patterns.
The process was tedious and elaborate. The collection process was labor
intensive. First, female slaves collected the indigo leaves in huge baskets, and then
carefully selected the best foliages that were not too green or becoming yellow. Next,
they made the dye in a manner similar to what was done on the mainland. When they
returned home with plenty of indigo leaves, they placed leaves into the pilon (mortar and
pestle), and pounded the leaves until they were turned into a pasty substance. Perhaps this
was accompanied by singing, as was customary in Cape Verde.
153
Then, the indigo was
allowed to dry for days in the hot sun before female slaves stored them ensure their
154
preservation, given that humidity caused their dyeing quality to significantly diminish.
The process of making good indigo consisted of dumping the sun-dried indigo into a pot
of cold water until it dissolved. After burning jatropha to produce ashes, the latter was
mixed with the indigo water. The amount of water determined how strong or weak the
ink would be. The liquid was stirred for seven or eight days and left alone for two days to
air, after which it was ready for use.
There was a great diversity of geometric patterns of panus, which were largely
derived from Upper Guinea, but there were some Portuguese influences, especially from
the region of Alentejo, which had Moorish and Jewish influences. For example, there
152
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 62. However, Cadamosto noted
that Wolof men could also perform the spinning, which he noted was a woman’s task.
153
Oswaldo Osório, Cantigas de Trabalho, Tradições orais de Cabo Verde. Comissão
Nacional para as Comemorações do 5 Aniversário da Independência de Cabo Verde-SubCommissão para a Cultura.
154
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 32.
60
were Christian emblems, such as the cross, incorporated into the panu di terra. Carreira
listed twenty-nine styles of panu including agulha (needled); barafula (panu rolled);
bicho/bixo (literally “bug”); bicho de lista; bicho de retróz (twisted bug or shape); bicho
ordinário (ordinary “bug”); boca branca (“white mouth” or plain white); bumy (burnt);
fio de lã or de lã (wool yarn or thread); and gala/galam.
155
The panu di galã (or
156
galam/galan) might have been based on a Gajaaga cloth called guude gajaaga.
According to Duncan, lançados bought products like “banded cloth (galans) from
Senegal to “barter in Guiné.”
157
Was this pattern of Galan reproduced in Cape Verde
because of its popularity on the coast?
Figure 4. Panus di terra
(Source: Ethnographic Museum of Praia. Photograph by the author, May 2012.)
The social context and structure of the society determined to some extent how
panu was made in Cape Verde. There were three social categories involved: donatário,
155
António Carreira, Panaria, Cabo-Verdeano-Guineense (Praia, Cape Verde: Com o
Patrocínio das Comunidades Económicas Europeias; Instituto Cabo-Verdeano do Livro,
1983), 99–129.
156
The Gajaaga are Soninke, who were also called the “Galam” and they were famous
for their dyed cotton. Philip Curtin, Economic Change in Precolonial Africa: Senegambia
in the Era of the Slave Trade (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1975), 212.
157
Duncan, Atlantic Islands, 215.
61
morgado, and senhor. Donatários were were nobles or aristocratics who received
territories or islands from the Portuguese Crown. Morgados were large landowners, and
usually the oldest son would inherit property. Senhors were prominent men, mostly
slaveholders. According to Carreira, these groups fueled the development of panu di
terra, because of the economic benefits and hence they had some input into the geometric
designs. For instance, the slaveholders introduced Islamic patterns in the panu di terra.
Because of the great diversity in designs, the use of indigo, and panu laced with silk and
linen, there reached a point that it was considered superior to the textiles in Upper
Guinea, which was driven by mercantilist entrepreneurial spirit.
Enslaved Africans from Upper Guinea brought to Cape Verde, not only
knowledge about textile cloth production, but also aesthetics. For instance, in 1594,
Francesco Carletti, who purchased seventy-five African captives in Cape Verde,
recounted they were generally nude or scantily clad with a piece of cotton cloth, leather,
or leaves to cover their midsections. Perhaps, the captives managed to secretly
accessorize in a unique manner, but Carletti was aware that most captives did not bother
to conceal their genital area, while others:
Display a certain gallantry in their own manner and attach a ribbon or
threads made of glass to their member and tie it back between their thighs,
hiding it in such a manner that it becomes impossible to tell if they are
male or female. Others decorate it with the horn of some animal or with
seashells. Others cover it and conceal it entirely with little rings made of
bone or even woven grass, while others paint it or rather dye it red, yellow
158
or green with some mixture.
Some made an effort to get unique materials to cover their genitals, whereas
others made no effort to hide their genitals. Carletti’s descriptions highlighted the
158
Newitt, The Portuguese in West Africa, 15. Emphasis added.
62
differences in dress among the slaves, and provide clues to aesthetics of the captives.
Although they were housed separately according to their sexes in burracoons, “crowded
like animals,” and branded on their arms, chest, or back, some were resolute and
determined to adorn themselves as best they could, which is a subtle form of resistance.
In doing so, some individuals were not oblivious to their aesthetics after they became
captives.
Moreover, these descriptions of decorating and hiding their midriffs might reflect
the humanity of captives trying to maintain their sense of dignity, but how and what they
chose to decorate themselves with arguably reflected their aesthetics. It was typical for
Bijagos, Nalus, Baga, Temnes (Sapes), and other groups from the nearby areas to use
animal horns and leaves to paint their bodies. Hence, these African captives most likely
originated from south of Cacheu and Bissau regions, such as Bijagos and the Grande and
Nuno Rivers. As Almada attested, another popular port for slaves to Cape Verde was on
the Grande River, which corroborates the possibility that these captives originated from
this region.
159
Unfortunately, except for this brief description of slave dress, the lack of
documentation on the lowest classes makes only conjecture possible. Indeed, given their
servile class, most slaves were poorly dressed, which I will discuss later. In contrast,
there were free Africans in Cape Verde, and given that they represented aristocratic
families, heads of lineage, and other powerful political entities they presumably wore fine
garments. For instance, in 1488, Bumi Jeléen, a Wolof prince known as Bemoim by the
159
Almada, A Brief Treatise, chap. 11, 116, 118.
63
Portuguese, arrived in Portugal on a diplomatic mission, and was dressed like a member
of the Portuguese nobility.
160
By this time, Cape Verde had a significant slave population, but there were free
Africans (not including manumitted slaves) in Cape Verde in the late sixteenth century.
These Africans came to Cape Verde not in chains, but as African lineage heads and
aristocratic families and entrusted their children to Portuguese merchants in order them to
become “Christian,” which meant learning how to read and write in Portuguese. This
would allow them to serve as cultural brokers for fostering diplomatic and commercial
relations. José da Silva Horta asserts that Christianity allowed for a “common
‘language.’”
161
Others took refugee from the political strife that resulted in lost of
political power. For instance, “From a Guinea point of view,” Nafafé maintains, Dom
162
João Bemoji’s baptism was “for commercial and diplomatic reasons.”
Hawthorne and
Havik also argue that Kristons (i.e., Christianized Africans) did not make a fundamental
break with ancestral religions.
163
To learn French and English, Africans from Ziguinchor would travel to France
and England,
164
but to learn Portuguese, one only needed to travel the short distance to
Cape Verde. Portuguese/Cape Verdean traders from Santiago use to trade with Wolofs
160
161
MMA II: Vol. I, 529–63.
José da Silva Horta, Evidence for a Luso-African identity in “Portuguese Accounts
on ‘Guinea of Cape Verde’ (Sixteenth–Seventeenth Centuries),” History in Africa 27
(2009): 99.
162
Nafafé, Colonial Encounters, 106.
163
Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil, 225–33; Havik, “Gendering the Black Atlantic,”
317–8.
164
Almada, Brief Treatise, Part I, 21.
64
and Serers that lived in the Cape Verde Peninsula of modern Senegal, supposedly had
sold slaves due to famine on the Cape Verde islands, but the French and English replaced
the Portuguese and dominated the slave trade in Senegambia by the late sixteenth
165
century.
Because of this reality, Almada, a slave trader from Cape Verde, resented
that French and English ships stopped at Santiago on their way to the Americas.
166
Given
this power shift, there was a reorientation to trading south of the Zinguichor. Green
observes that in the mid-sixteenth century, the Portuguese moved south of the Gambia
because the patrineal Serer and Wolof societies tended to make it difficult to have settled
a diaspora mercantile class, which was essential for the expanding slave trade.
167
Once
again, African internal politics pushed the Portuguese further south, as happened as well
with the emerging British, French, and, eventually, Dutch presence.
For instance, during the mid-sixteenth century on the Upper Guinea Coast, the
Sape King established an alliance with the Luso-Africans. The former had fled from
Mane invasion in Sierra Leone. Some Sapes settled in Cacheu region in separate villages
next to Luso-Africans and Papel communities. The Papel had forged an alliance with
Luso-Africans-Sape. By establishing close proximity to Luso-African settlements, Sapes
thought that they too could have access to commodities and regain power that the
Atlantic had provided other African coastal communities.
165
166
167
Almada, Brief Treatise, Chap. 2, 21–23.
Almada, Brief Treatise, Chap. 2, 21.
Green, The Rise of Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, 206–7.
65
With the Mande invasion to the coast in 1545, once powerful lineage heads, such
168
as “Sapes” or Temne, found themselves facing annihilation.
Due to maltreatment by
the conquering Sumbas [Mande group], two Sape kings, Beca Caia and Beca Bore
(Caia’s cousin), fled along with their families and some vassals to board Portuguese
169
commercial ships that had arrived from Santiago.
The Sape kings managed to escape
with gold and ivory, which they knew were commodities that Portuguese merchants
would gladly accept, if they could not provide slaves, because these items could be traded
for slaves further north. Perhaps, from near Nuno River, the Portuguese took them to the
São Domingos River. The Sapes settled in a area ruled by a Papel king who had good
trade relations with Portuguese. As evidence of these good relations, Sapes constructed
their villages in proximity to the town of the tangomaos (Africanized Portuguese
outcasts). Donelha claimed that Brizida Beca Caia, daughter of Beca Caia, became a
Christian and went to Santiago. In 1583, due to a catastrophic famine, Brizida returned to
168
Horta, Evidence for a Luso-African identity, 113. Walter Rodney emphasized that the
Sapes was one nation or polity with various groups, such as Bulloms, Temnes, Limbas,
Bagas, Nalus, Cocolis, and Landumas, see Rodney, “A Reconsideration of the Mane
Invasions of Sierra Leone,” Journal of African History 8, no.2 (1967): 219–46; Peter
Mark suggests that Almada is not precise with the term “Sapes,” and referrs to several
groups: “In this kingdom of the Sapes are the following nations of people: Bagas,
Tagunchos [?], Sapes . . . Temenes, Limbas . . . and all these understood each other.”
Mark notes that Almada’s description of the Sape is “inconsistent” because in Chapter
13, he differentiates between Sapes and Bagas, such as “the Baga blacks extend as far as
Cape Verga where the Sapes begin” (p. 6).“Portuguese” Style and Luso-African Identity,
152–3. For evidence of Zape or Sape diaspora in New Spain (colonial Mexico), see
Nicole von Germeten, “Juan Roque’s Donation of a House to the Zape Confraternity,
Mexico City, 1623,” in Afro-Latino Voices, Narratives from the Early Modern IberoAtlantic World, 1550-1812, edited by Kathryn Joy McKnight and Leo J. Garofalo
(Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 2009), 83–103.
169
André Donelha, Descrição da Serra Leoa e dos Rios de Guiné do Cabo Verde
(1625), edited by A. Teixeira da Mota and P.E.H. Hair (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de
Investigações Científicas do Ultramar, 1977), 108–14. Donelha claims that in the ancient
language of Sape, Beca, meant king
66
São Domingos, where her father was still living. This suggests that Beca Caia maintained
contact with her daughter while she was resident in Santiago. After the famine had
170
passed, Brizida
Beca Caia returned to Santiago. Therefore, while in the São
Domingos area, André Donelha claimed to have seen Beca Caia, which meant that
Donelha sought him out for assistance as a cultural broker.
Beca Bore entrusted one of his sons to Jorge de Sequeira, a captain in Ribeira
Grande, who was trading along the São Domingos River. Jorge de Sequeira became his
godfather (padrinhu), which was represented not only the Catholic understanding of the
role but the African notion of fostership as well. According to Donelha, the boy was
known as Ventura de Sequeira, which shows that he adopted his godfather’s surname and
took on a “Christian” name to reflect his new identity. Unlike Brizida Beca Caia, his
African name remains unknown. Donelha claimed they were schoolmates and that
Ventura de Sequiera learnt to read and write in Portuguese very well. These skills would
be put to use as clerk when dealing with the Portuguese traders on the coast. Unlike other
Africans that Donelha termed “heathen” (gentio), he praised the Sapes as endowed with
awesome gifts and the skill to learn anything as though he had a special relationship with
them. Given the Luso-African-Sape alliance, Donelha perhaps felt a special connection
due to his trading relationship with that nation. Horta argues that Donelha and Almada
had a doubleness of identity: although part of the Portuguese Crown, their interests,
170
Malyn Newitt surmises that Brizida is a corrupt form of the Portuguese name
“Brigida”; see Newitt, ed. and trans., The Portuguese in West Africa, 1415–1670: A
Documentary History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 80.
67
especially commercial, diverged with the Portuguese royal court.
171
Indeed, Donelha
came from a family deeply involved in commercial activities on the mainland:
In the 1560s, Donelha’s father, who then resided in Sierra Leone,
purchased three enslaved ‘Manes’ and allowed them to be baptized and to
receive Christian names. Later in his life, the three Manes became
Donelha’s informants, providing him with information about the Mane
invasions, or movement of Manes and Sumbas into Sierra Leone. Before
1574, Donelha also traveled to Sierra Leone, embarking with Governor
Antonio Velho Tinoco’s fleet and sailing to Cape dos Mastos and São
172
Domingos/Cacheu, Grande de Guinhala, and the Sierra Leone Rivers.
In 1583, Ventura de Sequeira returned to Guinea and became king following the
death of his uncle, king Beca Caia, who had succeeded his father, Beca Core. Ventura de
Sequeira tried to impose Christianity on his subjects, and the Temne of the town rebelled
with the help of his cousin, Brizida Beca Caia (although he was a Christian herself).
Donelha lamented that the tangomaus did not assist Ventura de Sequeira, which could
have made a difference. This reveals several things. First, although the Temne kings were
nominally Christians, the commoners were not ready to use Christianity as a “common
language” for relations with the Portuguese. The Temnes were displaced migrants and
perhaps sought to maintain a distance from these “foreigners.” Or perhaps they believed
that abandoning their ancestral beliefs and rituals was sacrilegious. Second, that Brizida
would side with the other Temnes implies a power struggle. Could Ventura de Sequeira’s
name reveal that he had a transformative conversion (unlike his cousin) and thus, she
would not support him when he tried to force Christianity on their lineage? Third, the
171
José Silva Horta, A “Guiné do Cabo Verde”: Produção Textual e Representações
(1578–1684) (Lisbon, Portugal: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, Fundação para a
Ciência, Tecnologia e Ensino Superior, 2011), 81–101.
172
Edda L. Fields-Black, Deep Roots: Rice Farmers in West Africa and African
Diaspora (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2008), 96.
68
tangomaus did not want to disturb the established alliances with African lineages and
perhaps believed that Ventura de Sequeira was more of a competitor than an ally, because
he had good relations with people in Santiago, who considered the tangomaus as rivals
and as Christian backsliders. Green, however, persuasively suggests that the tangomau
(lançados) wanted to control the kola trade from Sierra Leone that was traditionally
supplied by the Sapes to the Cacheu region.
173
Because Brizida Beca Caia and Ventura de Sequeira both returned to Santiago,
they probably were not on good terms. While Donelha did not provide Brizida’s
circumstance in Santiago, he remarked that Ventura was a poor man among the whites in
Santiago. Donelha wrote that with the good luck of the death of a relative who was king
in another part of Sierra Leone, as a vassal to Mane power, Ventura de Sequeira was in
line to become ruler. Donelha emphasized that Ventura de Sequeira was his friend and
asked Donelha to “to get a ship and to join him (which I had no license to do).” If unable
to spread Christianity, Donelha claimed that Ventura de Sequeira would prefer to return
to Santiago if he could obtain a decent living. Donelha hoped that the Cape Verdeans
would settle in Sierra Leone to evangelize the people to Christianity. The fact that
Donelha wrote that he did not have a license to get a ship and join him underscores his
frustration with the metropolis. We do not know what happened to Ventura de Sequeira
in the Sierra Leone region.
According to Almada, the kings of Bolons, sub-group of the Sapes nation,
surrendered to the Portuguese rather than Sumbas, who were notoriously known for
eating their defeated enemies. The king’s wives and his people were sold as slaves but the
173
Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, 249.
69
king was sent to Misericordia in Santiago but the Portuguese did not know he was a king
and sold him into slavery in Santiago. The Bolon king was allegedly an obedient slave
that traveled to Lisbon, where “he was baptized and named Pedro.” As a result, António
Velho Tinoco, the Iberian Portuguese governor of Cape Verde,
175
fellow Bolons, but he preferred to be a slave than be free.
174
later freed him and his
Rather than doubt Almada’s
claim, we should try to contextualize what freedom might have meant during the onset of
the Atlantic slave trade and on-going established Saharan slave trade in Upper Guinea.
Freedom was relative during that period and reenslavement was a constant fear for
Africans in Upper Guinea; even kings and powerful people were enslaved. For example,
in 1730, Ayuba Suleiman Diallo, a Fula slave trader, ironically became enslaved
himself.
176
177
Despite the fluidity identity in Senegambia (as some have proposed),
racial difference was developing, though it was different from the rise of racism in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
Nevertheless, some Temne were free, whereas others were slaves in Santiago. As
stated in the introduction, the Temne language had some influence on Kabuverdianu.
174
Horta suggest that Tinoco, as an Iberian Portuguese (réinois), had different interests
than Luso-Africans in Santiago; see Horta, A “Guiné do Cabo Verde,” 166–207.
175
Almada, A Brief Treatise, Chap. 17, 33.
176
Bruce Hall, A History of Race in Muslim West Africa, 1600–1960 (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2011); Chouki El Hamel, Black Morocco: A History of
Slavery, Race, and Islam (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012); Bernard
Lewis, Race and Color in Islam (New York: Harper, 1971); Jonathon Glassman, War of
Words, War of Stones: Racial Thought and Violence in Colonial Zanzibar (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2011); John Hunwick, “Arab Views of Black Africans and
Slavery,” http://www.yale.edu/glc/events/race/Hunwick.pdf.
177
Peter Mark and José da Silva Horta, The Forgotten Diaspora: Jewish Communities in
West Africa and the Making of the Atlantic World (Cambrige: Cambridge University
Press, 2011), 53.
70
Unlike the sobradu (mansion-like dwelling) that Park Mark refers to as part of the traits
of Luso-African identities, the funcos predominated among the poor in Cape Verde prior
to the twentieth century, but Almada described them as palaver house of Sape kings.
While in Guinea, André Donelha said he had spoken with Fulas, Wolofs, and
178
Mandinkas and allegedly some were Christians who had married in Santiago.
If this
occurred, did the Church sanction it and did imply becoming “Christian” in the eyes of
the local Catholic Church? Why did they marry in Cape Verde rather than in their
homeland? Whom did these Africans marry in Santiago? Did they marry Africans
schoolmates and, if so, was it from the same ethnic group? Did they marry
Portuguese/Cape Verdean people? Were the marriages to establish diplomatic relations
between Cape Verde and African principalities? Scholars have noted that in Upper
Guinea Coast Africans from small-scale societies allowed their daughters to marry
“strangers” to create better relations.
In addition to Africans who went to study in Santiago, there were transient
African traders. According to Almada, Beafadas could speak Portuguese and some
dressed like the Portuguese, such as tungumás (free African women), who were cultural
brokers for Portuguese.
179
Grumetes (Christianized African men) and tungumás traveled
the rivers of Guiné, such as the Rio Grande and the Cacheu, and to Santiago Island with
Portuguese subjects (mostly Luso-Africans) when trading. Havik emphasizes that the
tungumás, as part of Kristons, with their status between heathens and Portuguese (Roman
Catholics), played a prominent role in the trading network from the interior of Upper
178
179
Donelha, Descrição da Serra Leoa e dos Rios de Guiné do Cabo Verde, 122.
Almada, A Brief Treatise, Chap. 11, 107.
71
180
Guinea to the Cape Verde islands.
Almada noted that their kinship lineage had to
acquiesce to this, which underscores that African lineages sought kinship or fostership
with European traders. Hence, during the sixteenth to the seventeenth centuries, free
African visited Cape Verde constantly, apparently without fear of enslavement. “As trade
settlements [Portuguese and Cape Verdeans] began to develop on the coast and river
banks in the sixteenth century, their social and cultural interaction with the African
populations surrounding these small nuclei imprinted specific characteristics on each
community, marked by close relations based upon kinship, wardship, intermarriage, and
181
clientship with ‘ethnic’ societies.”
In addition, a linguistic connection emerged as
well, with a Portuguese-based Creole, called Krioulo/Kriol. Bart Jacobs argues that
Creole of Santiago spread to the Upper Guinea Coast that resulted in an Upper Guinean
182
Creole
While Jacobs’ argument is debatable; their linguistic similarities are more than
just coincidence. There was intense commercial interaction between the islands and the
coast. The slave database shows, for instance, that Cape Verde and the Upper Guinea
180
Philip J. Havik, “Gendering the Black Atlantic: Women’s Agency in Coastal Trade
Settlements in the Guinea Bissau Region,” in Women in Port: Gendering Communities,
Economies, and Social Networks in Atlantic Port Cities, 1500–1800 edited by Douglas
Catterall and Jodi Campbell (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2012), 318; Philip J. Havik,
“Walking the Tightrope: Female Agency, Religious Practice, and the Portuguese
Inquisition on the Upper Guinea Coast (Seventeenth Century),” in Bridging the Early
Modern Atlantic World: People, Products, and Practices on the Move, edited by Carolina
A. Williams (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009), 173–91.
181
Havik, “Gendering the Black Atlantic,” 317.
182
Bart Jacobs, “Upper Guinea Creole: Evidence in Favor of a Santiago Birth,” Journal
of Pidgin and Creole Languages 25, no. 2 (2010): 289–343.
72
Coast dominated the Atlantic slave trade to Cartagena between 1573 and 1592, accounted
for 35 voyages out of the 42 identifiable ones.
183
To sum up, in the early phase of trade with coastal Africans, the Portuguese
inserted themselves into existing trade networks that enabled the development of the
trans-Atlantic slave trade. The Portuguese responded to African preferences by providing
first raw cotton, then panu, in the initial phase of the Atlantic slave trade. Therefore, the
development of new fashion and dress sensibilities relied on long-established African
preferences, incorporating initially Islamic, then European clothing elements. On the
coast, Africans also responded by incorporating European clothing into their African
fashion and dress to convey African notions of power and wealth that predated the arrival
of the Europeans (Gijanto, 2010; Hawthorne and Carvalho, 2010), without necessarily
becoming Atlantic Creoles or Europeanized. Grumetes, tungumás, and lançados also
participated in cross-cultural exchange, including fashion and dress.
Cape Verde, as one of those the first black African slave-based societies of the
Atlantic slave trade, affected popularity of cotton cloth in Upper Guinea, particularly
from Casamance to Cacheu. African knowledge of panu making, transferred from Upper
Guinea to Cape Verde, allowed for this cross-cultural exchange. Hence, the dress and
fashion that developed in Cape Verde had deep roots in the fashion and dress on the
183
David Wheat, “The First Great Waves: African Provenance Zones for the
Transatlantic Slave Trade to Cartagena de Indias, 1570–1640,” Journal of African
History 52 (2011): 16. With the union of the Portuguese and Castile Crowns between
1580 and 1640, Cape Verde’s strategic role in transshipment of slaves to to Spanish
South America was significant; see Linda A. Newson and Susie Minchin, From Capture
to Sale: The Portuguese Slave Trade to Spanish South America in the Early Seventeenth
Century (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2007). See, António Carreira, “Tratos e
Resgates dos Portugueses nos Rios de Guiné e Ilhas de Cabo Verde nos começos do
século XVII,” Revista de História Económica e Social no. 2 (1978): 91–103.
73
coast. During this early phase, free Africans arrived in Cape Verde to learn Christianity,
i.e., to read and write in Portuguese and Krioulo as well to conduct business with the new
strangers. They would be chalonas (interpreters) and cultural brokers between their
lineages and the whites from the seas. Although Almada referred to Kristons’ dress as
“Portuguese,” this was the idiom of trade. After trading with Europeans, African rulers
quickly removed their European clothing and opted for local dress. Thus, rather than
creolization, this was a cross-cross cultural exchange. Tangomaus dressed in local attire,
particularly when they were in the hinterland, removed from Portuguese detection.
74
CHAPTER 2
PANU: SLAVE TRADE, DRESS, AND FASHION IN CAPE VERDE,
c. 1600–c. 1800
Panu was widely becoming popular and accessible to the population on the Cape
Verde Islands in the 1600s. European travelers began to describe the dress of black
women.
184
For men in Cape Verde, European travelers did not describe any unique
forms of dress, but noted some rather ragged European clothing as well as panu. Of
course, the manner and the type of panu worn varied by social classe, which included
slave, manumitted, free, and female slave-owners. An ecosystem prone to drought (and,
therefore, famine) affected the production of panu and its availability. People with
means, such as some manumitted slaves, particularly women, and slaveholders used silk,
damask, and other types of finery. In Cape Verde, the intense trade in panu enabled the
rise of certain fashions created by black women. What fashions did these black women
create? How did they relate to the dress in Upper Guinea? Did race, class, and/or gender
play a part in the development of fashion and dress in Cape Verde? What was the role of
184
In other parts of the Atlantic, European male travelers made similar observations; see
Douglas L. Wheeler, "Angolan Woman of Means: D. Ana Joaquina dos Santos e Silva,
Mid-Nineteenth Century Luso-African Merchant-Capitalist of Luanda," Portuguese
Studies 3, (1996): 284–97; Julio de Castro Lopo, "Uma Rica Dona de Luanda," Portucale
3 (1948): 129–38; Carlos Alberto Lopes Cardoso, “Ana Joaquina dos Santos Silva,
industrial Angolan da segunda metade do século XIX,” Boletim Cultural da Câmara
Municipal de Luanda 3 (1972): 5–14; "Free Women of Color in Central Brazil, 1779–
1832," in Beyond Bondage: Free Women of Color in the Americas, ed. David Barry
Gaspar and Darlene Clark Hine (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2004); Selma
Pantoja, “Gênero e comércio: as traficantes de escravos na região de Angola,”
Travessias. Revista de Ciências Sociais e Humanas em Língua Portuguesa nos. 4/5
(2004): 79–97; David Wheat, “Nharas and Morenas Horras: A Luso-African Model for
the Social History of the Spanish Caribbean, c. 1570–1640,” Journal of Early Modern
History 14 (2010): 137-38; Silvia Hunold Lara, “The Signs of Color: Women’s Dress and
Racial Relations in Salvador and Rio de Janeiro, ca 1750–1815,” Colonial Latin
American Review 6, no. 2 (1997): 205–24.
75
panu in the development of fashions in the archipelago? This chapter explores these
questions, using a European traveler’s account as well as collections from Secretaria
Geral do Governo (General Governor Secretary) for the colonial province of Cape Verde.
This chapter begins with an examination of the economic and social affects of
panu in Cape Verdean society during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In part,
panu served to ascribe social order and ranking as well as serving as currency. Next, the
chapter explores the rise of “Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics” in Cape Verde,
particularly in terms of dress and fashion. Next, it compares female dress with male
fashions and dress. In the Atlantic African islands, freed African women often wore an
elaborate array of layered clothing accompanied by fine jewelry that included large
dangling earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, and a intricate harido topped with a head
185
wrap.
Next, the chapter consider the creation, in 1755, of the Companhia de Grão
Pará e Maranhão (Company of Grão Pará and Maranhão; CGPM) to illustrate that panu
continued to be an important commodity for the Atlantic slave trade with Cape Verde and
the mainland to send slaves to Brazil. It also provides some statistics that demonstrate the
centrality of this commodity in the overall trade. Finally, the chapter describes the social
importance of this popular fabric in Cape Verde and Upper Guinea. Because in the
Atlantic world, whether in Atlantic Africa or African diaspora in the Atlantic basin
185
John Thornton mistakenly notes it was the island of Sal: Thornton, Africa and
Africans in the Making of the Atlantic world, 1400–1800, 2nd ed. (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1998), 232. There are three objections to his. First, Ligon
noted the island where they saw this mistress was the island that Francis Drake had
attack, which was Santiago. Second, Ligon said that Bernard Sousa de Mendes wanted to
take them to Sal, but that they did not anchor there. Third, the black lady dressed
extravagantly was not Mendes’s mistress, but rather the governor’s mistress; see Karen
Ordahl Kupperman, ed., A True and Exact History of the Island of Barbados
(Indianapolis: Hackett, Inc., 2011), 29–54.
76
Africans and their descendants used fabrics, the chapter suggests that future studies needs
to go beyond the resistance and accommodation model in the historiography of the
African diaspora in the Americas. Fashion and dress was also about showing power and
wealth, and this tradition predated the rise of the Atlantic world. The social use of fabric
was more than just a response to Portuguese colonialization, but reflected cultural
continuity as well as changes affected by ecological and climatic factors.
John Thornton alludes to the development of a “Afro-Atlantic feminine
aesthetic.”
186
Cape Verde.
For Thornton, the transformation of African aesthetics began in places like
187
Thornton assumes that the use of head wrapping was probably a
Christian influence and that before the Atlantic slave trade, African women displayed
their intricate hairstyle, which included elaborate braiding patterns, rather than cover
188
it.
Given that Islam arrived as early as 1100 C.E. in Senegambia in Upper Guinea,
head wrapping could be derived from the Islamic influence that spread throughout the
region. On the other hand, the development of head wrapping could have originated from
189
tall elaborate hairstyles that were already in practice.
Thornton adds that the braiding
hairstyle that Richard Ligon, a British traveler, described in Cape Verde was slightly
186
187
188
Thornton, Africa and Africans, 2nd ed., 230.
Thornton, Africa and Africans, 2nd ed., 232.
In the Islamized areas of the Upper Guinea, we do not know for certainty if this
assertion is applicable. Moreover, the correlation that Christian influence led to women
covering their head is not necessarily convincing, but since Africans had elaborate
hairstyles that were quite high, we need more research to understand how the covering of
the head came about, if possible.
189
Roy Sieber and Frank Herreman, eds., Hair in African Art and Culture (New York:
Museum of African Art, 2000).
77
different than the braiding patterns found in Gambia. Finally, Thornton felt that the loose
fitting blouses and various combinations of clothing also reflected creolization.
In studies of the African diaspora in the Americas, scholars have argued that
slaves, freed Africans, and their descendants (particularly women) used clothing as
resistance, accommodation, and assimilation, but there are no studies that focus on a
specific region of Africa and trace this to the Americas. As for Atlantic Africa, the few
studies that highlight women’s involvement during the era of the Atlantic slave trade
show their economic involvement in the slave trade, but there has been no attention to
their fashion and dress.
190
Chapter 1 and this chapter attempt to do both by exploring the
dress in Upper Guinea, and then tracing how it changed—or did not change—in the Cape
190
Bruce L. Mouser, “Women Slavers of Guinea-Conakry,” Women and Slavery in
Africa, ed. Claire C. Robertson and Martin A. Klein (Madison: University of Wisconsin
Press, 1983); George E. Brooks, Jr., “A Nhara of the Guinea-Bissau Region: Mãe Aurélia
Correia”; Robertson and Klein, 295–319; and “The Signares of Saint-Louis and Gorée:
Women Entrepreneurs in Eighteenth-Century Senegal,” Women in Africa. Studies in
Social and Economic Change, ed. Nancy J. Hafkin and Edna G. Bay (Stanford, CA:
Stanford Press, 1976): 19–44; E. Frances White, Sierra Leone’s Settler Women Traders:
Women on the Afro-European Frontier (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1993);
Philip J. Havik, Silences and Soundbites: The Gendered Dynamics of Trade and
Brokerage in the Pre-Colonial Guinea-Bissau Region (Münster, Germany: L Lit, 2004).
For dress and fashion in Africa see, Jean Allman, ed., Fashioning Africa: Power and the
Politics of Dress (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004); Suzanne Gott and
Kristyne Loughran, Contemporary African fashion (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 2010): Foreword by Joanne B.Eicher; Christa Clarke, Power Dressing: Men’s
Fashion and Prestige in Africa (Newark, NJ: Newark Museum Association, 2005;
Daphne H. Strutt, Fashion in South Africa, 1625–1900: An Illustrated History of Styles
and Materials for Men, Women and Children, with Notes on Footwear, Hairdressing,
Accessories and Jewellery (Cape Town, South Africa: A.A. Balkema, 1975); Relebohile
Moletsane, Claudia Mitchell, and Ann Smit, Was It Something I Wore?: Dress, Identity,
Materiality (Cape Town, South Africa: HSRC Press, 2012); Roslyn Adele Walker,
African Headwear: Beyond Fashion: August 14, 2011–January 1, 2012 (Dallas, TX:
Dallas Museum of Art, 2011); Hans Walter Silvester, Natural Fashion: Tribal
Decoration from Africa, trans. David H. Wilson (New York: Thames and Hudson, 2009);
Roy Sieber and Frank Herreman, Hair in African art and culture (New York: Museum
for African Art, 2000).
78
Verde Islands. Although the Cape Verde Islands has many similarities with the
Caribbean islands and is a “diasporic” place, its political culture remained
quintessentially Upper Guinean.
191
Wilson Trajano Filho wrote that:
Underneath the similarities with other diaspora cultures, the Creole society
that emerged in the Cape Verde Islands is essentially linked to West
African societies by two types of structural similarities. First, for a long
time it had the same structure of social reproduction as the mestiço
settlements in the fortified riverine villages of the Guinea coast. Cape
Verde sent people (soldiers, civil servants and traders), knowledge and
goods such as cloth, distilled drinks, beads and European manufactured
products to these areas and in return received dye, rice and people (slaves),
as well as values and social practices. Second, it shared with African
political cultures the structural features governing formation and
192
reproduction of social units.
Thus, he contends that the centuries of cross-cultural exchanges between the
islands and the mainland renders Cape Verde more of African frontiers model than a
Caribbean model. Kopytoff defines the African frontiers model as describing a place
where African immigrants and exiles recreate a cultural life that preserves more of their
“traditional” culture rather than a major break with the previous culture Filho qualifies
the model for Cape Verde by arguing that the substrata of Cape Verdean cultural
formation is consistent with the political culture of Senegambia, despite the Europeanized
outer layer. Thus, my study implicitly problematizes the notion of diaspora and notions of
“Africa.”
In Cape Verde, the development of Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics was not
simply creolization, i.e., the transformation of local or ethnic dress into a mixture of
European and African elements, nor was it a recreation of an ethnic dress and fashion.
191
Wilson Trajano Filho, “The Conservative Aspects of a Centripetal Diaspora: The
Case of the Cape Verdean Tabancas,” Africa 79, no. 4 (2009): 522–3.
192
Filho, “The Conservative Aspects of a Centripetal Diaspora,” 522–3.
79
The two schools of thought, creolization and Africanization, presuppose that European
and African cultures were unchanging before and during the era of the Atlantic slave
trade. For instance, Islamic influence and later Euro-Christian influence affected dress as
well as fashion in Upper Guinea, but the locals did not abandon their local dress. In the
Iberian Peninsula, Islamic and Jewish fashion influenced Iberian fashion and dress. In
Cape Verde, Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics was the adoption and modification of
fabric and panu, in particular, within the broader Guinean context of fashion and dress,
which included African notions of power and wealth, but integrated European elements,
particularly among the upper class. In Upper Guinea, elites used more panu than
commoners; its usage was becoming widespread among communities in the region. For
Cape Verde, European outsiders associated freed black women with a particular fashion
and dress, which Thornton coins as the rise of an “Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic.”
193
Class, gender, and race affected, to some extent, how different groups dressed in Cape
Verde.
194
Men of African descent who were slaves usually wore panu as shawls, while
their free counterparts wore ragged European clothing. Thus, freed male slaves tended to
assimilate Europeanized dress and fashion. As in Upper Guinea, poor children tended to
193
Cf.: the rise of Atlantic slavery and racial theories in Cape Verde, see Toby Green,
“Building Creole Identity in the African Atlantic: Boundaries of Race and Religion in
Seventeenth-Century Cabo Verde,” History in Africa 36 (2009): 103–25; Green,
“Building Slavery in the Atlantic World: Atlantic Connections and the Changing
Institution of Slavery in Cabo Verde, 15th–16th Centuries,” Slavery and Abolition 32, no.
2 (2011): 228–45.
194
Laura Fair shows how after abolition, former slaves used “Arab” clothing to show
their free and privileged status; see Laura Fair, Pastimes and Politics: Culture,
Community, and Identity in Post-Abolition Urban Zanzibar, 1890–1945 (Oxford: James
Currey, 2001).
80
be naked in Cape Verde. Nonetheless, girls occasionally wore panu
195
as wrappers or
wrap skirts around their waist.
Panu: Economic and Social Affects in Cape Verde
By the 1600s, Cape Verde islanders had established a trade in panu with ports on
the mainland, such as Cacheu, a strategic location on the coast, where they had built
trading factories (feitorias) with African rulers’ permission from and regular tribute
payments. In 1615, Avity, a French traveler, described the economic vitality of Ribeira
Grande, a thriving port with about 500 families, excluding the slave population. Like
most Portuguese cities, Ribeira Grande had a municipal council, the Misericórdia
(charity organization), the hospital, confraternities, and Portuguese was the official
196
language of administration.
In addition, the town had military fortifications
195
197
to
Pagne was French for panu; in English, “wrappers.” In African languages, there are
various names.
196
Liam Matthew Brockey, ed., Portuguese Colonial Cities in the Early Modern World
(Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2008). Another feature was military fortifications. For port
cities in Cape Verde, see António Correia e Silva, Espaço urbanos de Cabo Verde: o
tempo das cidades-porto (Lisbon, Portugal: CNCDP, 1998); Fernando de Jesus Monteiro
dos Reis Pires, Da Cidade da Ribeira Grande à Cidade Velha em Cabo Verde: Análise
Histórico-formal do espaço urbano séc. XV–XVIII (Praia, Cape Verde: Universidade de
Cabo Verde, 2007); Pires, “Ribeira Grande/Cidade Velha de Santiago de Cabo Verde—
História e Património, situação actual,” in África Arquitetura e Urbanismo de Matriz
Portuguesa ed. José Manuel Fernande (Lisbon, Portugal: Universidade Autónoma, 2011),
15–23; Pires, “Ribeira Grande de Santiago, Cidade Velha,” in Património de Origem
Portuguesa no Mundo: arquitectura e urbanismo: África, Mar Vermelho e Golfo Pérsico,
director. Arrangement by José Mattoso. Vol. José Manuel Fernandes (org.), (Lisbon,
Portugal: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, 2010), 306–12; Konstantin Alexander Richter,
“The Historical Religious Buildings of Ribeira Grande: Implementation of Christian
Models in the Early Colonies, 15th til 17th Century, on the Example of Cape Verde
Islands,” Vol. I (Ph.D. diss., Universidade da Madeira, Madeira, Portugal). Christopher
Evans, Marie-Louise Stig Sørensen, and Konstantin Richter, “An Early Christian Church
in the Tropics: Excavation of the Nª S.ª da Conceição, Cidade Velha, Cape Verde,” in
Brokers of Change, 173–92.
81
defend it from pirates. In Ribeira Grande, “[t]hey have cotton, the cloth [panu] whereof,
they sent upon the coast of Africke.”
198
Despite the decline of Ribeira Grande to the
early slave trade, it was not an economic backward. Indeed, in 1623, the Dutch
shipmaster Dierich Ruiters described the commerce in Ribeira Grande:
The trade we call “coastal” is mostly undertaken, in small ships, pinnances
and launches, by Portuguese who live on Santiago Island. First, they load
these with salt, which they conveniently obtain for nothing on the island of
Maio and Sal [in Cape Verde islands] and they sail to Serra-Lioa with the
salt and trade it for gold, ivory and kola. Then from Serra-Lioa they sail
again to Joala and Porto d’Ale [in Senegal], where they trade a portion of
the kola for cotton cloths. They also sometimes trade ivory obtained in
199
Serra-Lioa for Cape Verde cloths.
From there they sail again east to
Cacheu where they trade the rest for their kola and their remaining goods
for slaves. They acquire fifty to sixty slaves in exchange for the goods for
they have obtained by trade along the coast and each slave is worth to
200
them 150 reals, or pieces-of-eight.
Cacheu was a major trading center that connected the Biafada-Sapi, Bañun-Bak,
and Mande trade networks, which existed before the Portuguese and the Cape Verdeans
tapped this elaborate commercial web. The Biafada-Sapi network extended east to the
Geba River and south to the Corubal River. The Biafada controlled what is now the
197
Concerning forts and empire, see Eric Klingelhofer, ed., First Forts: Essays on the
Archaeology of Proto-Colonial Fortifications (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2010).
198
Avity, Pierre d’, sieur de Montmartin, The estates, empires, & principallities of the
world: Represented by ye description of countries, maners of inhabitants, riches of
prouinces, forces, gouernment, religion; and the princes that haue gouerned in euery
estate. With the begin[n]ing of all militarie and religious orders. Translated out of
French by Edw: Grimstone, sargeant at armes (London: Printed by Adam: Islip; for
Mathewe: Lownes; and Iohn: Bill, 1615), 167.
199
George Brooks believes that they are made in the Cape Verde peninsula of Senegal,
but I disagree and think it suggest the panu made in Cape Verde islands.
200
George Brooks, “Cacheu: A Papel and Luso-African Entrepôt at the Nexus of the
Biafada-Sapi and Banyun-Bak Trade Networks,” in Mansas, Escravos, Grumetes e
Gentio: Cacheu na encruzilhada de civilizações, arrangement by Carlos Lopes(Bissau,
Guinea-Bissau: Instituto Nacional e Pesquisa, 199 ), 193.
82
southern part of Guinea-Bissau; the Sapi controlled what is now Guinea-Conakry/Serra
Leone. The Bañun and Serer people dominated the Bañun-Bak network, which extended
from the Cacheu River to the Casamance River, Gambia River, Petite Côte, and Cape
Verde peninsula of modern Senegal. The Mande trade network connected these two
trading networks between the Gambia River and Futa Djallon area of present day
republic of Guinea-Conakry into the interior of Upper Guinea.
Indeed, Linda A. Newson and Susie Minchin underscored how the Crown tried to
benefit from this trading network:
The collection of taxes remained with a Crown administrator or a
contratador based in Cape Verde, so that in theory ships trading on the
Upper Guinea Coast were required to pass through Santiago in order to
pay any taxes due. Although the Crown initially backed the control
exercised by Cape Verdeans over trade on the Upper Guinea Coast, no
effective machinery existed to enforce it. As such, it was common for
ships to sail direct from Spain or Portugal to Cacheu and from there to the
201
Indies without stopping at Santiago in Cape Verde.
By 1644, Newson and Minchin highlight that the requirement for payment was
abolished due to lack of control. Not only was it difficult to control ships coming from
Portugal or Spain, filhos de terra challenged the Iberian Portuguese’s dominance of the
local administration in Santiago Island and overtly competed with them in the
commercial networks on the coast. Green describes this tension:
In 1652, a rumour spread that the Creoles were rebelling and planning to
kill all the whites, which was the cause of great panic in Ribeira Grande.
By 1664, seven years after the inquisitorial trial against Luis Rodrigues
began, there were no more than fifty-five white residents of Santiago. In
this year, Rodrigues Viegas and his brother led a band of assorted “white
and black insolent criminals,” parading through the streets of Ribeira
Grande with armed militias, utterly beyond the reach of Portuguese law.
201
Newson and Minchin, From Capture to Sale, 30.
83
Rodrigues Viegas was said to be fomenting an armed uprising,
202
pressganging people in the villages to join his force.
In 1670, to obtain revenue and regulate trade, Manuel Pacheco de Melo, governor
and captain general of Cape Verde, imposed a tax on goods imported and exported from
203
the praça of Cacheu.
Cape Verdean merchants traded panu, cotton, and wine to
Cacheu and traders in exchange for slaves, ivory, and wax. In 1670, a roll of panu from
Cape Verde was worth 300 réis. The average price of one young male slave was 900 réis.
A barrel of wine cost 1,200 réis; a bag of cotton cost 600 réis. A quintal of ivory fetched
600 réis; a quintal of wax was 450 réis. In addition to using panu to barter for slaves and
other goods in the Portuguese-controlled archipelago, soldiers and local administrators
(filhos de folhas) serving the Portuguese crown sometimes received payment in barafula,
which was three panus bounded into one. Africans also utilized panu as currency in
Upper Guinea. On July 23, 1676, for each slave leaving the port of Cacheu, the Company
of Cacheu, owned by António de Barros Bezzerra and Manuel Preto Valdez, paid three
barafula to the major-captain of the praça for military maintenance.
205
allowed that each soldier received monthly six barafula.
204
This revenue
Besides the lack of
Portuguese currency in Cape Verde and the mainland, panu was popular in the region as
202
203
Green, “The Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape Verde,” 231.
Boletim Arquivo Histórico Colonial (BAHC), Vol.1 (Lisbon, Portugal: Arquivo
Histórico Colonial, 1950), 104.
204
Secretaria Geral do Governo (SGG), Liv 0001, “Ordens das Cortes Copiadas a
Mando do Desembargador Sindicante Custódio Correa de Mattos. Inclui
Coresspondência c/autoridades Internas e Externas, Provisões, treslados, Provimentos
entre Outros. (N.º-A-42); 1674/Nov-1754; 174/200-cópia manuscritas, folhas 28–29,
Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde (AHNCV).
205
BACH, Vol.1, 1950, 113–4.
84
currency and for social ceremonies and daily uses. Thus, the Portuguese colonial
administration utilized panu as a currency in Cape Verde and along its trading posts on
the coast, which underscores that this African practiced influenced the Portuguese.
Far to the south, around the port of Benguela in present-day Angola, similar
processes were unfolding.
206
There the soldiers traded textiles and gunpowder,
207
which were used as payment, despite restrictions regarding the selling of firearms and
gunpowder to Africans, for slaves. Besides Africans purchasing Asian textiles in
Angola,
208
Dampier bought some panu di terra to trade with them in Angola.
209
It also
reached Brazil and Cartegena. This shows that aeshethics from the Upper Guinea
210
remarkably inspired the emergence of an Atlantic aesthetic.
The Atlantic slave trade
not only connected Africa with different parts of the Americas and Europe, but linked
different African regions that historically did not have direct trade networks, such as
206
Mariana Pinho Candido, Fronteras de esclavización: esclavitud, comercio e
identidad en Benguela, 1780–1850; traducción del ingles, María Capetillo Lozano, 1st
ed., (Pedregal de Santa Teresa, México, D.F.: El Colegio de México, Centro de Estudios
de Asia y África, 2011), 190–201.
207
John Laband, Bringers of War: The Portuguese in Africa during the Age of
Gunpowder and Sail from the 15th to 18th Century (Barnsley, UK: Pen and Sword Books,
2013); Peter K. Mendy, “The Tradition of Resistance in Guinea-Bissau: The PortugueseAfrican Encounter in Cacheu, Bissau and ‘suas dependênicas,’ 1588–1878,” in Mansas,
Escravos, Grumetes e Gentio, 137–69.
208
Roquinaldo Ferreira, “Dinâmica do Comércio Intra-Colonial: Geribitas, Panos
Asiáticos e Guerra na Tráfico Angolano de Escravos (Século XVIII),” in O Antigo
Regime nos Trópicos: a Dinâmica Imperial Portuguesa (séculos XVI-XVIII), ed. João
Fragoso, Maria de Fátima Silva Gouvêa, and Maria Fernanda Baptista Bicalho (Rio de
Janeiro, Brazil: Nova Fronteira, 2001), 339–78.
209
William Dampier, A Voyage to New Holland, &c. in the year, 1699. Wherein are
described, the Canary-Islands, the Isles of Mayo and St Jago. Vol. III (London: printed
for James Knapton, 1703), 32.
210
This would also include music; Pascal Bokar, From Timbuktu to the Mississippi
Delta: How West African Standards of Aesthetics have Shaped the Music of the Delta
Blues (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2011).
85
Upper Guinea Coast and Central Africa. The result was that colonial authorities became
heavily involved in the slave trade. The Portuguese Empire, due to its policy of not
211
providing steady cash salary pushed officers into the slave trade.
The Portuguese royal court attempted to have a monopoly trade with Cape Verde
and the coast to prevent competition from other European rivalries. Nevertheless, Filipa
Ribeiro da Silva, Catia Antunes, José Horta, and Peter Mark have written about the
commercial links between Portuguese and other Europeans, particularly Jews from the
Netherlands.
212
Daviken Studnicki-Gizbert, Toby Green, and Mariana Candido show
211
Concerning individuals as contraband in Iberian imperial world, see Ronaldo Vainfas,
arrangement by Georgina Silva dos Santos and Guilherme Pereira das Neves, Retratos do
Império, Trajetórias individuais no mundo português nos séculos XVIa XIX (Niterói/Rio
de Janeiro, Brazil: Editora da Universidade Federal Fluminense, 2006), 99–153.
212
Cátia Antunes and Filipa Ribeira da Silva, “Amsterdam merchants in the slave trade
and African commerce, 1580s–1670s,” Tijdschrift voor sociale en enconomische
geschiedenis 9, no. 4 (2012): 3–30; Ribeiro da Silva, “Dutch Trade with Senegambia,
Guinea, and Cape Verde, c.1590–1674,” in Brokers of Change, 125–44. Ribeiro da Silva,
Dutch and Portuguese in Western Africa: Empires, Merchants and the Atlantic System,
1580–1674 (Leiden, The Netherlands: 2011); Ribeiro da Silva, “Crossing Empires:
Portuguese, Sephardic, and Dutch Business Networks in the Atlantic Slave Trade, 1580–
1674,” The Americas 68, no. 1 (2011): 7–32; Antunes, Globalisation in the Early Modern
Period: The Economic Relationship between Amsterdam and Lisbon, 1640–1705 (New
Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2004); Tobias Green, “Further Consideration of
the Sephardim of the Petite Cote,” History in Africa 32 (2005): 165–83; Linda M. Rupert,
“Trading Globally, Speaking Locally: Curaçao’s Sephardim in the Making of a
Caribbean Creole,” Jewish Culture and History 7, no. 1–2 (2004): 109–22; Bart Jabos,
“The Dutch in Seventeenth-Century Senegambia and the Emergence of Papiamentu,” in
Brokers of Change, 193–216; Heater Dalton, “‘Into speyne to selle for slavys’: English,
Spanish, and Genoese Merchant Networks and their Involvement with the ‘Cost of
Gwynea’ Trade before 1500,” in Brokers of Change, 91–124; Mark and Horta, The
Forgotten Diaspora; David Wheat, “The Afro-Portuguese Maritime World and the
Foundations of Spanish Caribbean Society, 1570–1640” (Ph.D. diss., Vanderbilt
University, Nashville, TN, 2009); Christopher Ebert, “European Competition and
Cooperation in Pre-Modern Globalization: ‘Portuguese’ West And Central Africa, 1500–
1600,” African Economic History 36 (2008): 53–78.
86
that the Portuguese also traded extensively with Spanish, French, and English merchants,
despite innumerous prohibitions.
213
Linda A. Newson reveals that Luso-Africans, unlike their African counterparts,
214
imported wine, beads, and textiles from Europe to trade on the coast.
Moreover,
Newson explains that given the importance of clothing (panu) and cloth (barafula)
trading was not simply exchange of European commodities for slaves, “but rather both
parties participated in an active trade in local products.”
215
Finally, Africans in Upper
Guinea relied on locally produced textiles and clothing rather than those from Europe in
the early seventeenth century, which contradicts the argument that Africa was dependent
on European textile imports. Hence, in African and Luso-African settlements trade with
Iberian Portuguese shows cultural cross-cultural exchange was ongoing. Sansi-Roca
argues that in the Cacheu praça, “Europeans also wore Muslim amulets under their
rosaries. By the mid-seventeenth century, Mandingo magic was clearly in use by the
Portuguese. In 1656, in Cacheu, Ambrósio Gomes, ‘a white man,’ tied some magical
strings he got from the Mandingos around the arm of Crispina Peres, a mulatto woman
who was giving birth, to protect her.”
216
Because racial categories were not synonymous
with phenotypes, Sansi-Roca should have interrogated the category “white” that Luso213
Daviken Studnicki-Gizbert, A Nation upon the Ocean Sea: Portugal’s Atlantic
Diaspora and the Crisis of the Spanish Empire, 1492–1640 (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2007); Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade; Candido, “Benguela et
l'espace atlantique sud au dix-huitième siècle,” Cahiers des Anneux de la Mémoire 14
(2011): 223–44.
214
Linda A. Newson, “Africans and Luso-Africans in the Portuguese Slave Trade on the
Upper Guinea Coast in the Early Seventeenth Century,” Journal of African History 53
(2012): 1–24.
215
Newson, “Africans and Luso-Africans,” 23.
216
Sansi-Roca, “The Fetish in the Lusophone Atlantic,” 24.
87
Africans invoked, particularly on the mainland. On the other hand, Havik traces Gomes’s
ancestry as having “Sephardic-New Christian roots on his father’s side, and African
descent on the side of his mother, who was a famous healer. Ambrósio Gomes, the
wealthiest slave merchant in the region, had been acting commander of Cacheu and an
217
administrator of the Companhia de Cacheu.”
Nevertheless, the Portuguese sought to control the trade via charter companies,
but there were difficulties. A royal decree of February 6, 1687 prohibited Portuguese
subjects on the islands or the Upper Guinea Coast from trading panu and clothes with
other European traders; the penalty for violating this decree was death.
218
This decree,
coupled with recurring drought and famine, would have catastrophic economic
repercussions in the next century.
A letter of January 20, 1743 to the royal court, João Juazarte Santa Alviria, the
governor of Cape Verde, lamented that famine, the trade ban on panu with other
219
European merchants, and slave ships avoiding tariffs had caused “misery” in Santiago.
Alviria was so moved by the suffering that he wrote, “We weep about our poverty with
tears of blood.” As with countless other famines, population losses throughout the
colonial period in Cape Verde varied from island to island, but often it ranged between 20
220
and 40 percent: the phrase “tears of blood” captured the anguish.
Ovídio Martins, a
Cape Verdean poet, wrote, “We are the lashed from the east wind . . . the goats have
217
218
Havik, “Gendering the Black Atlantic,” 345.
SGG, Liv0002, 1676–1747, “Ordens, bandos, cartas patentes, provisões, regimentos,”
292 fls., cópias manuscritas, n.º antigo 8, folha 7v-8, AHNCV.
219
SGG, Liv 0001, f.84–86, AHNCV.
220
K. David Patterson, “Famine, and Population in the Cape Verde Islands, 1580–1900,”
International Journal of African Historical Studies 21, no. 2 (1988): 291–313.
88
taught us to eat rocks, so not to perish,”
221
lucidly encapsulating the centuries of deaths
brought about by slavery, forced migration from their homeland to labor in a resourcepoor environment under colonial domination.
In May 1753, Custódio de Correa Mattos, the Investigative Judge
(Desembargador Sindicante) of Ribeira Grande, wrote that ships coming from Portugal
routinely anchored in Fazenda Real de Ribeira Grande to load up with panu before
moving on to Upper Guinea. However, Mattos complained that the Portuguese then
purchased slaves with the panu on the coast, but did not return to Cape Verde, but their
ships sailed directly to Brazil and Maranhão.
222
Apparently, the authorities did not
demand immediate payment once ships arrived from Portugal because it depended on the
number of slaves purchased from the coast; Portuguese and other European merchants
evaded even paying the authorities in the praças on the coast. It is likely that officials
owned some of the ships or were bribed and therefore did not enforce the payment.
Although the periodic famines resulted in much human suffering, the trade ban on
panu with “foreigners” undoubtedly exacerbated the fragile economy of the archipelago.
Given the distance from the metropolis, and the presence of rapacious officials, trade in
contraband thrived in the islands, funneling away any potential accumulation of revenue.
The colony also lost tariffs when ships sailed directly to the coast and evaded Ribeira
Grande altogether. “The Portuguese navy dispatched no ships to patrol the archipelago,
221
Ovídio Martins, «Os Flagelados do Vento Leste». 100 Poemas (Rotterdam, The
Netherlands: Edições Caboverdianidade, n.d.), 11.
222
Luiz de Bivar Guerra, “A Sindicância do desembargador Custódio Correia de Matos
às Ilhas de Cabo Verde em 1753 e o regimento que deixou à Ilha de São Nicolau,” in
Stvdia-Revista semester-n.º 2-Julho 1958 (Lisbon, Portugal: Centro de Estudos Históricos
Utramarinos), 177.
89
enabling pirates of many nationalities to pillage the defenseless inhabitants, a menace that
continued until the 1820s.”
223
Moreover, passing ships that reached Guinean ports,
unless they required additional provisions or more slaves, simply sailed to the Americas
to Europe. As the slave trade declined, the customhouse suffered losses. Moreover,
moradores concentrated in contraband, focusing less on agricultural production, which
further decreased food availability on the islands.
Officials such Mattos were preoccupied with finding ways to accrue revenue for
the local administration. If slave ships stopped in Ribeira Grande before sailing to the
Americas, they left some slaves behind, which replenished the available slave labor.
Portuguese ships hailing from Portugal or other parts of the Empire did not pay the 10
percent tariff. Likewise, the law obligated that all residents of the islands pay 5 percent
on trade goods, whether they sold commodities to Portuguese nationals or “foreigners.”
Common trade goods included cotton, panu, cattle, lambs, horses, donkeys, pigs, goats,
beans, corn, tobacco, and dye.
224
Thus, if ships from Europe were not allowed to purchase one of the archipelago’s
most valuable commodities, panu, and if Ribeira Grande did not receive tariffs from
ships heading to Brazil, then the economy was in duress. Given that Cape Verde
experienced periodic pirate attacks, without tariffs and taxes from maritime trade and
agricultural products, there was not enough capital to maintain the fortifications.
223
225
George E. Brooks, “Cabo Verde: Gulag of the South Atlantic: Racism, Fishing
Prohibitions, and Famines,” History in Africa 33 (2006): 114.
224
Guerra, “A Sindicância do desembargador Custódio de Correia de Matos,” 242.
225
SGG, Liv 0001, f.85v–86, AHNCV.
90
Lack
of trade and famine resulted in mass poverty, the deterioration of the cathedral and
houses of the elites, and a general instability.
These conditions made panu less available. Given that local authorities used panu
as currency for paying bureaucrats and soldiers, it partially disrupted the social hierarchy
because the latter groups were essential for the administration of the colony.
226
The
majority of soldiers were Africans born in the archipelago who played a decisive role in
maintaining the social order, particularly given the massive number of slave flight into
the mountainous interior of Santiago. It is possible that the soldiers did not have the
barafula to trade with passing ships for basic foodstuffs and clothing, which would have
resulted in some soldiers wearing tattered shirts, pants, and hats—some went nude. In
order for the elites to maintain the social hierarchy, each member had to dress according
to their social rank; soldiers’ uniforms tended to include finery such as silk, as well as
pants, shirts, and shoes. Alviria complained that the unpaid, poorly dressed soldiers
ventured into the interior of Santiago Island where they assaulted and robbed people.
Moreover, the governor noted that the soldiers were not practicing Christian rituals, such
as attending mass, and they were behaving like heathens.
These unruly soldiers were dangerous because by the 1600s, the scattered maroon
communities in Santiago made up the majority of the population in Santiago, which
threatened political stability.
227
The local governors were usually Iberian Portuguese;
therefore, the loyalty of soldiers, composed of mostly of island-born African descent was
226
Zelinda Cohen, Os filhos da folha (Cabo Verde—sécs XV–XVIII) (Praia, Cape Verde:
Spleen Edições, 2007).
227
Iva Cabral, “Elites atlânticas: Ribeira Grande do Cabo Verde (séculos XVI–XVIII),”
6, http://cvc.instituto-camoes.pt/eaar/coloquio/comunicacoes/iva_cabral.pdf.
91
228
crucial for ensuring the social of the.
In addition, filhos de terra that managed the
local administration were in the majority mestiço (mixed) as well as blacks. In 1690,
according to Du Quesne, a French merchant on his way to “East Indies,” could not
distinguish if it were soldiers or slaves that robbed for “knives, ribbon, needle, but chiefly
for biscuits for which they readily give oranges, goiaves, bananas, and other fruits.”
229
Given their ragged and partially naked appearance, the European travelers perceived
these soldiers as “ slaves” who always carried “bows and arrows.” The impression is that
they not only procured weapons, but also food to alleviate their miserable condition.
From the elites’ perspective, dress should indicate clear social ranking, particularly
between slaves and soldiers. Having undisciplined soldiers and increasingly
indistinguishable dress among the population meant that the social order was becoming
unstable. This supports Peter Linebaugh, Marcus Rediker and Emma Christopher’s
argument that class solidarity superseded color in the Atlantic world during the slave
trade era.
230
In short, by the mid-seventeenth century, the rise in smuggling and contraband in
Ribeira Grande meant that little custom tax was paid. Moreover, desertification caused
not only famine, but also a drop in panu production. Thus, Cape Verdean/Portuguese
merchants in Cape Verde lost their competitive edge vis-à-vis their European
228
Iva Cabral, “Elites atlânticas,” 6; Maria João Soares, ““Crioulos Indómitos” e Vadios:
Identidade e Crioulização em Cabo Verde-Séculos XVII-XVIII,” 3–5, http://cvc.institutocamoes.pt/eaar/coloquio/comunicacoes/maria_joao_soares.pdf.
229
Du Quesne, A New Voyage to the East Indies, 19.
230
Emma Christopher, Slave Ship Sailors and Their Captive Cargoes, 1730–1807
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Peter Linebaugh and Marcus Rediker,
The Many-Headed Hydra: Sailors, Slaves, Commoners, and the Hidden History of the
Revolutionary Atlantic (Boston: Beacon Press, 2000).
92
counterparts in Upper Guinea. Second, the barafula used to pay filhos da folha and
soldiers was not available.
Female Dress and Fashion in Cape Verde Islands, c. 1647–c. 1721
As noted above, freed black women in Cape Verde appeared to have developed a
particular fashion and dress, an Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics. In 1647, Ligon
described this unique aesthetic of free black woman, who he erroneously called a
“mistress” of the governor, in Ribeira Grande, Santiago Island. Perhaps, she was not a
mistress given that she lived openly with him and there is no mention of the governor
having a wife.
231
Moreover, Ligon only describes her as anonymous black mistress;
perhaps, for Ligon, it was not conceivable for a black woman to be legitimate and
genuine lover or partner of a white man. Her garments indicated that the mistress was a
powerful woman of elite social status. Ligon wrote:
She wore on her head a roll of green Taffeta, striped with white and
Philliamort [grayish color], made up in the manner of Turban, and over
that a sleight veil…On her body next her linen, a Petticoat of Organge
Tawny and Sky color; not done with straight stripes, but waved; and upon
that a mantle of purple silk, ingrayled with straw color. This Mantle was
large, and tied with a knot of very broad black Ribbon, with a rich Jewel
on her right shoulder, which came under her left arm, and so hung loose
and carelessly, almost to the ground. On her Legs, she wore buskins of
wetched Silk, decked with Silver lace, and Fringe; Her shoes, of white
leather, laced with sky color; and pinked between those laces. In her ears,
232
she wore large Pendants, about her neck, and on her arms, fair Pearls.
Several social aspects are revealed in this description. First, the taffeta served as a
head wrap, which was probably made of panu laced with silk. The extra veil suggests a
231
Candido Mariana P., «Aguida Gonçalves, marchande de Benguela à la fin du XVIII
siècle». Brésil(s). Sciences humanines et sociales no 1 (mai 2012): 33–54.
232
Richard Ligon, A True and Exact History of the Island of Barbados (1657); edited,
with an introduction, by Karen Ordahl Kupperman (Reprint; Indianapolis, IN: Hackett,
2011), 54–55.
93
religious aspect, or might it have been to protect her from the dust.
233
The linen could
have been a panu or imported fabric, with its wavy design and bright colors. The purple
mantle used as a shawl appears to be another type of panu that was traditionally used to
cover the body. Arlindo Mendes argues that the wearing of cotton cloth to cover the
female body in the interior of Santiago in today’s society is a practice that derived from
234
the slavery era.
This elegantly dressed black woman who lived with the governor shows the social
and cultural dynamics of the society. As noted above, class was more important rather
than color. Perhaps, if high officials had intimate relations with local women it gave them
access to local networks of power, or legitimized their colonial positions in Cape Verde.
For the local women, it was about network building (like the nharas and signares in
Upper Guinea) and displaying their wealth, power, and freedom. Employing
nhara/signares as a theoretical framework, David Wheat states that in Spanish Caribbean
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, some women of African descent had
social upward mobility based upon relationships with Iberian men that included church235
sanctioned marriage and concubinage.
Few women in Cape Verde dressed in this
233
Cape Verde receives dust from the Harmattan, which is when winds blow from the
Sahara spreading to Western Africa between the end of November and the middle of
March.
234
Arlindo Mendes, “Significado da sulada em Santiago: um reparo etnográfico,”
Revista de Estudos Cabo-Verdianos no. 3 (2009: 79-106). Mendes argues that shawls are
important part of rural life in Santiago, because women use it for variety of purposes, in
labor, carry babies, protecting themselves from inclement weather.
235
Wheat, “Nharas and Morenas Horras,” 137–38.
94
236
elegant manner.
The choices that Africans and their descendants made, however, were
also guided by their cultural sensibilities in which adornment and dress was a form of
237
resistance, accommodation, and assimilation.
Besides, the climate of Cape Verde was
much more similar to Upper Guinea than Portugal.
In another passage, when Ligon went to fetch water in a valley in Ribeira Grande,
he described young women, about 15 years of age, who wore a dress like the “mistress,”
but not as extravagant, indicating these women were not part of the low class. Both girls
had silk striped petticoats with linen cloth that reached the middle of their legs “tied with
a Ribbon on the right shoulder, which coming under the left arm, hung down carelessly
somewhat lower than the Petticoat, so as a great of the natural beauty of their backs and
necks before, lay open to the view, their breast.”
238
These women were free blacks and
239
had a small piece of silver or tin that symbolized the “badge of their freedom.”
236
Silvia Hunold Lara, “The Signs of Color,” 205–24; Lara shows that to maintain the
hierarchy in colonial Brazil the Portuguese Empire enacted laws to restrict the dress of
slave women that would conform to their rank in society. In North America, the Slave
Act of 1735 banned slave women from dressing in a fashion considered above their rank;
see Haulman, The Politics of Fashion, 25; Olwell notes that slaves can wear, “negro
cloth, duffels, coarse kearsies, osnabrugs, blue linen, checked linen, coarse garlix or
calicoes, checked cottons or scotch plaids”; Robert Olwell, Masters, Slaves, and
Subjects: The Culture of Power in the South Carolina Low Country, 1740–1790 (Ithaca,
NY: Cornell University Press, 1998), 63; Jonathn Prude, “To Look upon the ‘Lower
Sort’: Runaway Ads and the Apperance of Unfree Laborers in America, 1750–1800,”
Journal of American History 78, No. 1 (1991): 124–59.
237
S. O. Buckridge, The Language of Dress: Resistance and Accommodation in
Jamaica, 1760–1890 (Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2004);
Shane White and Graham White, Stylin’: African-American Expressive Culture from Its
Beginnings to the Zoot Suit (Ithaca, N.Y: Cornell University Press, 1998).
238
Ligon, A True and Exact History of Barbados, 59–60.
239
Ligon does not specify how he knows this piece of silver or tin around their legs
symbolized their freedom. Ligon implies that the Portuguese gave it to them alluding to
manumission.
95
Hairstyle was an integral part of the Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics. In 1647,
Ligon distinguished between hairstyles in Cape Verde and the mainland:
Their hair not shorn as the Negroes [Africans] in the places I have named
[Morocco Guinny, Binny, Cutchow, Angola, Aethiopia, Mauritania] close
to their head; nor in quarters, and mazes, [reference to plaiting pattern
popular in Upper Guinea Coast] But in due proportion of length, so as
having their shortening by the natural curls, they appear as wires, and
artificial dressings to their own faces. On the side of their cheeks, they plat
little of it, of purpose to tie small Ribbon; or some small beads, of white
240
Amber, or blue bugle, sometimes of the rare flowers that grow there.
Thornton argues that this difference shows that creolization was occurring in
Cape Verde. There were some changes, but to reduce it to creolization is conflating
change with something totally new. Although the hairstyle was not a replica of styles that
Ligon believed existed on the mainland, such as in Gambia, the braiding of hair and
adorning it with an ornament was the preferred style, which was derived from “Guinean”
sensibilities. On the coast, it was common for both sexes to decorate their hair with
various adornments and this aesthetic continued in the archipelago. This phenomenon
was widespread in the region: in 1682, Le Maire observed that men and women in
Gambia used coral and other items in their hair.
241
Because the environment was
different in Cape Verde, Africans and their descendants relied on local sources for their
decorations, and when possible, slaves and freed individuals recreated a material culture
that spoke to their Guinean roots.
Jane Stevenson speculates whether Ligon’s description of female dress in Cape
Verde is accurate, given that Ligon was part of the English gentry (despite describing
240
241
Ligon, A True Exact History, 58–59.
The Voyages of the Sieur Le Maire to the Canary Islands, Cape Verde, Senegal, and
Gambia, Jan 1682, 72–73.
96
himself as a disgruntled outcast of British society). For Stevenson, Ligon’s description of
women wearing silk and sophisticated dress in Cape Verde was rather a reflection of his
background rather than reality. It was also an expression of an encounter with the “other,”
which tends to be more explicit when expressed through the lens of gender. For instance,
studies by Jennifer Morgan (relating to the Americas) and Pamela Scully and Clifton
Crais (South Africa) show European travelers’ encounters with the “other” were
242
racialized and gendered.
Indeed, Ligon was curious to see if this “beautiful” black
“mistress” had pearl white teeth such as Europeans fancied back in Europe. He was
disappointed when he came close to the woman. Because traveling literature trope
reflected elite European men’s background, Stevenson doubts that most women in Cape
Verde dressed as Ligon suggested because around hundred years later (ca. 1746) Antoine
François Prévost d'Exiles (better known as Abbé Prevost), a French novelist, described
women in Cape Verde dressed in plain white sarongs with white cloths over their
243
shoulders.
Notwithstanding the some valid criticism of this trope, Stevenson misses
the point of historical interpretation: Ligon described a woman of high status, whereas
Abbé Prevost described women of low status, who could even have been slaves—and it
was a century later, which I will discuss later.
242
Jennifer Morgan, “‘Some Could Suckle over Their Shoulder’: Male Travelers,
Female Bodies, and the Gendering of Racial Ideology, 1500–1770,” William and Mary
Quarterly 54, no. 1 (1997): 167–92; Pamela Scully and Clifton Crais, “Race and Erasure:
Sara Baartman and Hendrik Cesars in Cape Town and London,” Journal of British
Studies 47, no. 2 (2008): 301–23.
243
Jane Stevenson, “Richard Ligon and the Theatre of Empire,” in Shaping the Stuart
World, 1603–1714, The Atlantic Connection, ed. Allan I. Macinnes and Arthur H.
Williamson (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2006), 298.
97
Numerous other Europeans passing through Cape Verde described similar dress
and fashion. For instance, on December 9, 1672, John Fryer departed England aboard the
Unity to travel to Asia, specifically Persia and India, for trade. On his way, Fryer stopped
Santiago in early 1673 for provisions. Fryer wrote that the women had “a clout rolled up
like our water-bearer” with their backs and breasts exposed. The women also fastened
panu around their waists and it hung down to their feet. They also wore bracelets,
necklaces, earrings, and long veils that cover them from their head to their feet.
244
The
rise of this Afro-feminine aesthetic probably was connected to what Green describes as
Consolidation of female brokerage and agency in commercial transactions
in the Cape Verde islands in the seventeenth century is contemporaneous
with the documented rise of similar features in the Atlantic trading ports of
Western Africa such as Cacheu. . . . Among peoples of the region such as
the Balanta, many women took advantage of this situation to leave their
moranças and tabankas and to settle among the Luso-African traders. It
was in the seventeenth century that this phenomenon first seems to have
become especially widespread, and the contemporaneous rise of the
phenomenon on both the islands and the African coast indicates again how
tied, both commercially and culturally, were the zones of brokerage of the
245
Cape Verde islands and of the African mainland.
The Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic illustrated the social prestige of female
brokerage and agency in Cape Verde with their economic ascendancy. In June 1681,
Governor Manuel Costa Pessoa complained that, “Cape Verdean Creoles no longer paid
any attention to the demands of Portuguese authority, refusing to take their turns in the
militia and being virtually above the law, since if he sent people to arrest them they
244
John Fryer, A New Account of East-India and Persia: In Eight Letters Being Nine
Years Travels, Begun 1672, and Finished 1681. (London: Printed by R.R. for RI.
Chiswell, at the Rose and Crown in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1698), 9–10;
245
Green, “The Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape Verde,” 226.
98
246
always returned empty-handed.”
During this tumultuous period, European travelers
begin to describe a particular fashion and dress among black women. Although Ligon did
not provide the following image (Figure 5), it might offer clues to this unique
development.
Figure 5. Inhabitants of the Cape Verde Islands
247
Figure 5 shows a woman of African descent and high social standing in Ribeira
Grande. Her head is wrapped with a handkerchief and she is dressed in a long, flowing
gown covered with a mantle. She has a necklace and shoes, but the man next to her does
not wear shoes. The man wears overalls topped with a blazer and a hat. This woman is
less colorful than the one described by Ligon, but it reveals the basic features of the
gendered aesthetics.
The Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic consisted of braided hair, a head wrap, big
earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and a petticoat. Portuguese feminine attire included
246
247
Green, “The Emergence of a Mixed Society in Cape Verde,” 233.
Another digitized image of the National Archive of Cape Verde, but without
reference to original source. This image might be from a European traveler’s account, but
judging from other images and descriptions I have seen, the image is from the latter of
half of the eighteenth century. It depicts an elite woman of African similar to the signares
in Senegal. I have been unable to locate its original source. However, the caption
indicates that it is from the Cape Verde Islands.
99
248
wearing intricate hair braiding, head wrappers, and large earrings.
It is difficult to
ascertain how widespread the wearing of these elaborate dresses by free African women
and their descendants was in Cape Verde. In 1690, after arriving in Santiago, Abraham
Du Quesne, a French traveler, noticed that women only wrapped white or blue panu
around their waist, left their upper body bare, the head uncovered, and their feet unshod,
but “only sometimes wearing an ordinary handkerchief round their heads, and for the
249
most part gold rings, or three wooden pins in their ears.”
In a church in Praia, he saw a
“negress women half-naked.” Du Quesne also mentioned they walked with a “great air”
250
or ostentatious flair, usually smoking with a tobacco pipe.
European travelers also
noticed the culture of tobacco smoking by women on the Upper Guinea Coast. Duquesne,
however, lamented that the archipelago had experienced four years of drought before his
arrival; presumably, the drought affected the availability of panu. When Du Quesne
mistook the lieutenant for the governor, the locals replied that the latter resided in
Santiago, i.e., Ribeira Grande, the colonial headquarters. There were 300 houses and
most of the residents were Portuguese, “who dress after their own,” while the rest were
black, who were “naked.” The evidence indicates that Portuguese women in Ribeira
Grande did not dress in the manner of Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics.
248
“An Account of the Manners, Customs, Dress, and Diversions of the the Portuguese”.
Universal Magazine of Knowledge and Pleasure, June 1747–Dec. 1803; 102, British
Periodicals, 88.
249
Abraham Du Quesne, A New Voyage to the East-Indies in the years 1690 and 1691
being a full description of the isles of Maldives, Cicos, Andamants, and the Isle of
Ascention…; to which is added, a new description of the Canary Islands, Cape Verd,
Senegal, and Gambia done into English from the Paris edition. 1696, Copy from the
British Library, 19–20.
250
Du Quesne, A New Voyage to the East-Indies, 19.
100
Around 1721, George Roberts, a British sailor, noted similar dress and fashion
throughout the archipelago. Pirates captured Roberts, and though they eventually released
him and his ship, they did so without provisions, but he managed to reach Santo
Antão.
251
Roberts sailed further south, and was shipwrecked near Furna, a port city in
Brava, from whence he traveled through various islands over the course of the next two
years. Because of his long stay, Roberts was able to provide a detailed overview of
female dress in the islands, which I quote at length:
The women, when dressed, have cotton cloths; and, according as they are
industrious or nice in spinning, some finer, some coarser, some with one,
some two or three of those cloths wrapped about them like petticoats, and
tied with a girdle above the hips, or sometimes without a girdle, the corner
of the cloth only tucked in; their shirts are made like a man’s shirt, but cut
off so short, that it don’t reach low enough to tie under their girdle; the
wrist-bands, collar, and neck, of the highest sort, especially the younger,
are wrought in figures, with silk of divers colors, with the needle; but the
poorer, particularly the older sort, content themselves with blue cotton
thread to work their bosoms, collars, etc. with; over their shirts they wear a
waist-coat, with sleeves to button at the arms, not above four inches deep
in the back part, but long enough before, to tie with strings under their
breasts; and over all, a cotton cloth, in manner of a mantle; which the
married women generally have of a blue color, and the darker the blue,
the richer its reckoned; but the maidens and gay young wives, or widows,
wear blue and white cloths, some figured, as they call it, others spotted:
some are so nice as to have white cotton; but rather, if they can get them,
linen Handkerchiefs wrought along the edges, and sometimes the corners
only, with silk, mostly red, green, and blue, the first being the color most
admired among them, as well as by all the inhabitants of those islands in
general, the latter being the only color they can dye, which they vary to
252
several degrees, by making it darker or lighter.
251
The Four Years Voyages of Capt. George Roberts Being A Series of Uncommon
Events, which befell him In a Voyage to the Islands of the Canaries, Cape de Verde, and
Barbadoes, from whence he was bound to the Coast of Guiney. (London: Printed for A.
Bettlesworth, at the Red Lyon, in Pater-Noster-Row, and J. Osborn, at the Ship, at St.
Saviour’s Dock-Head, near Horsely-Down. 1726), information part of the title page after
the map of Cape Verde Islands.
252
The Four Years Voyages of Capt. George Roberts, 395. Emphasis added.
101
The above descriptions of dress illustrate several things. First, cotton cloth for
women was a basic component of dress, which was combined with a short shirt, over
which they worse a “waistcoat,” and, finally, what Roberts described as a mantle, most
likely a barafula (larger cotton cloth). Second, marital status affected women’s dress. For
the barafula, married women wore dark blue (the darker the better, perhaps). However,
unmarried and young women wore barafulas that were blue and white, with linen
handkerchiefs with edges laced with red, green, or blue. As on the coast, red was the
preferred color. Age also affected how women dressed. Poorer women, particularly the
elderly, utilized blue cotton panu without any silk on the collar or arm to cover their
bosom.
Hence, women of African descent’s choice to adorn themselves with specific
253
items must be seen as part of a “visual world” that escaped European travelers.
Silvia
Lara notes that artist representation of female slaves and free black women did not
always imply imperial biases, but in the images were “invisible” objects that were signs
of cultural affirmation (i.e., the “visual world”); slave owners, European travelers, and
the metropolis were often clueless regarding its significance. This visual world consisted
of panus, tobacco pipes, and gris-gris (protective amulets) that linked the African
diaspora with their homeland. Philip Morgan refers to this difference as “anti-language”
that signifies “anti-establishment.”
254
The difference in aesthetics speaks to cultural
heritage or memory. The exquisitely clad black woman was a partner of the governor of
253
Silvia Hunold Lara, “Mulheres Escravas, Identidades Africanas” in Grupo de
Trabalho 3, http://www.desafio.ufba.br/gt3-006.html#1.
254
Philip Morgan, Slave Counterpoint: Black Culture in the Eighteenth-Century
Chesapeake and Lowcountry (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998),
605.
102
Cape Verde; thus, her elaborate dress could indicate a range of possibilities—a powerful
woman, Guinean aesthetics, and the benefits of sexual relation with a powerful colonial
255
authority.
Male Dress and Fashion in Cape Verde Islands, c. 1647–c. 1721
The only detailed description of male dress we have is Ligon’s description of
soldiers in Ribeira Grande, Santiago, in 1647:
Coverings their heads, were not unlike Helmets; of blue and white striped
silk, some tawny, and yellow, others of other sorts of Colors; but all of one
fashion of the King’s guard: loose sleeves, which came to their elbows;
but large and gathered so as to fit loose from their arms; with large skirts,
reaching down to the middle of their thighs; but these of a different color
from their suits, their breeches indifferently large, coming down below the
knee; and the upper part, so wrought with Whalebones within, as to keep
them hollow, from touching their backs; to avoid heat . . . upon their legs,
buskins of the color of their suits, yet some made a difference: their shoes
colored for the most part; some white, but very few black. Their weapons,
256
as Swords, Pistols, Muskets, Pikes, and Partisans, kept very bright.
The passage reveals that military men dressed in elegant uniform with silk as a
sign of prestige. Moreover, their shirts had “loose sleeves” and pants “indifferently
large,” which resembled the baggy, loose fitting of Islamic attire of Upper Guinea.
Moreover, the breeches were fastened with whalebones, which were abundant in the
region, kept the pants loose, creating a cooling affect. Nonetheless, these men were not
representative of male dress in the archipelago.
In 1672, Fyer reported that in Santiago, men, unlike women, obtained European
clothing from passing ships. European travelers provided images that depicted black men
255
Walter Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil, 175; Isabel P. B. Fêo Rodrigues, “Islands
of Sexuality: Theories and Histories of Creolization in Cape Verde,” International
Journal of African Historical Studies 36, no.1 (Special Issue: Colonial Encounters
between Africa and Portugal) (2003): 83–103.
256
Ligon, A True and Exact History, 57.
103
wearing short panu or loincloth that were part of the servile class. At port cities,
manumitted slaves and free poor class eked out an existence at the port cities of the
islands and adopted European clothing. For instance, in 1683, the governor of Sal Island
had given the captain of European boat three or four thin goats in exchange of a coat, “for
257
he had nothing but a few rags on his back, and an old hat.”
The population of Sal was
small; there may have been only a few hundred permanent residents along with transients
from São Nicolau and Santo Antão. Hence, the governor of Sal did not have much
recourse given an unstable population; he relied on European passing ships, which were
infrequent, to provide him with various commodities. In contrast, the three or four men
that accompanied the governor of São Nicolau Island on European ships “were all
indifferently well cloathed and accoutred with swords and pistols; but the rest that
accompanied him to the sea-side which were about 20 or 30 men, were but in a ragged
garb.”
258
In 1699, William Dampier, a British captain, reported that of the 230 inhabitants
of Maio some had clothing, whereas others went about naked. Islands like Maio did not
produce cotton cloth, but depended on passing ships for trade. Residents of Maio
provided salt to English, French, and other European nationals for food plus ragged
clothing. Praia had “bullocks, hogs, goats, fowls, eggs, plantains, and cocoa-nuts, which
257
William Dampier, Dampier’s Voyages; consisting of a New Voyage round the world,
a Supplment to the Voyage round the world, Vol. 1 (London: E. Grant Richards, 1906),
101.
258
Dampier, Dampier’s Voyages, Vol. 1, 103.
104
they” that they traded “for shirts, drawers, handkerchiefs, hats, waistcoats, breeches, or . .
259
. cloth, especially linen” because it was suitable to the weather.
Unlike Sal and Maia, Brava Island was isolated, and the dwellers depended more
on local production of panu, if any. In 1723, Roberts said that the inhabitants of Brava
260
were all blacks, who were less than 200 in number.
The majority of the inhabitants
were poor black refugees, who may have been slaves and manumitted individuals who
escaped famine in Fogo by boarding a passing Portuguese ship in the late seventeenth
261
century.
It was probably around 1680 when Fogo’s volcano erupted, which also
resulted in the island’s name, which means, “fire” in Portuguese. Sixty years prior to the
arrival of the refugees of the famine, only two black families were “lived wholly in
heathenism.” The new arrivals taught these families weaving. Roberts published two
pictures of the inhabitants (Figures 7 and 8): one picture shows a man and a woman
dressed in only loin-cloths with the man holding a long spear and the woman with a
bracelet on each wrist; in the other picture, which Roberts referred to as their “best
habits,” they are wearing long cotton cloths.
259
Dampier, Dampier’s Voyages, vol. 1, 104. This importing of European clothing
continues, particularly used ones at affordable prices; Today, Santiago women are major
transnational enterpreneurs, see Marzia Grassi, Rabidantes: comércio espontâneo
transatlântico em Cabo Verde (Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto de Ciências Sociais e Spleen
Edições, 2003). For Africa in general, see A. Brooks and D. Simons, “Untangling the
Relationship between Used Clothing Imports and the Decline of African Clothing
Industries,” Development and Change 43 (6) (2012): 1265–1290.
260
Roberts, The Four Years Voyages, 422.
261
To this day, Fogo and Brava have a special relationship, and Bravan poets, especially
Eugenio Tavares, refer to Fogo as their lover.
105
Figure 6. “A Man and Woman of the Island of St. John (Brava)”
(Source: The four years voyages of Capt. George Roberts, between pages 422 and 423.)
Figure 7. “A Man and Woman of the island of St. John in their best habits”
(Source: The four years voyages of Capt. George Roberts, between pages 422 and 423.)
An online database with digitized images entitled “The Atlantic Slave Trade and
Slave Life in the Americas: A Visual Record,” operated by the University of Virginia
noted that Figures 6 and 7 were included in Daniel Defoe’s The Four Years Voyages of
Capt. George Roberts. According to the database, the images were “presumably
produced by the publisher to accompany this fictional account by Defoe. Perhaps they
106
were derived from another, unidentified, source.”
262
The unidentified source is from the
true account of George Roberts. Indeed, these images corroborate other travelers’
accounts. Roberts wrote that the inhabitants learned to make panu from new settlers, i.e.,
the freed slaves from Fogo. This description of freed blacks astute in the art of weaving
supports the fact that Fogo was known for having excellent weavers. It also corroborates
the view that the 1680 volcanic eruption in Fogo forced residents to flee to nearby
Brava,
263
which is only twelve miles away. Toby Green quotes George Robert’s travel
writings concerning the days when Santiago was a major center of the Atlantic slave
264
trade to the Caribbean.
Maria João Soares and Maria Manuel Torrão also refer to this
demonstrates for the Mande presence in Cape Verde.
265
Indeed, Roberts referred to the
Mandinka influence by citing local inhabitants of Fogo and Santiago, in particular,
having similar physiognomy with the mainland Mandinkas and that the creole they spoke
was significantly laced with Mandinka words
266
Mandinka cloth was the batan (white
cotton textile), which was also part of the textile industry in Cape Verde. Roberts was
262
http://hitchcock.itc.virginia.edu/Slavery/details.php?categorynum=2&theRecord=150
&recordCount=20. Daniel Defoe, The four years voyages of Capt. George
Roberts…Written by himself (London, 1726), between pp, 422 and 423. (Copy in the
John Carter Brown Library at Brown University). For a discussion of how Defoe
arranged his account, see Manuel Schonhorn, “Defoe’s Four Years Voyages of Capt.
George Roberts and Ashton’s Memorial,” Texas in Literature and Language 17, no. 1
(1975): 93–102.
263
Orlando Ribeiro, A Ilha do Fogo e as suas erupções, 2nd ed. (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta
de Investigações do Ultramar, Memórias Séries Geográfica I, 1960), 200.
264
Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, 1.
265
266
Soares and Torrão, “The Mande Through and In the Cape Verde Islands,” 145.
George Roberts, The four years voyages of Capt. George Roberts: being a series of
uncommon events which befell him…/written by himself (London: Printed for A.
Bettesworth, 1726), 151, 163.
107
probably aware of the Mandinka kingdom, Kaabu, which was a powerful political force
in Upper Guinea.
As discussed earlier, in 1746, Abbè Prevost published an image captioned “Habits
des negres du cap verd,” (habits of the blacks of Cape Verde) showing locals in white
sarongs that Stevenson referred to in order to show that Ligon’s description of
267
sophisticated dress in Cape Verde was more of the latter’s imagination.
The image is
not from Cape Verde Islands, but from the Cape Verde peninsula, which in French is
referred to as Cap Verd, whereas the archipelago is referred to as Iles de Cap Verd.
According to many scholars, Cape Verde Islands derived its name from the Cape Verde
Peninsula. Moreover, Abbè Prevost reproduced the original image in a modified form
from A New General Collections of Voyages and Travels (1745).
268
When the images
provided by George Roberts are compared with Abbè Prevost’s image the similarities of
their dress becomes apparent. In both images, the individuals had wrapped cloth around
their bodies to keep warm, which corroborates my argument of cultural continuity,
267
Stevenson is not the only scholar; Linda M. Heywood and John K. Thornton, Central
Africans, Atlantic Creoles, and the Foundation of the Americas, 1585–1660 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2007), 17, 33, 38, 40, 41, 277, 305, 308, 313. On page 308,
the locals that Broecke referred to as offering virgins were from the Cape Verde
Penninsula of Senegal and not Cape Verde Islands, for example. See J. D. La Fleur (ed.
and trans.), Pieter van den Broecke’s Journal of Voyages to Cape Verde, Guinea and
Angola 1605-12 (London: Hakluyt Society, 2000). Their reference to John Hawkins’s
kidnapping refers to Cape Verde Islands. Toby Green also argues that Cape Verde has
been ignored or misrepresented in the Anglophone world; see Green, “Masters of
Difference,” 2–3.
268
A new general collection of voyages and travels; consisting of the most esteemed
relations, which have been hitherto published in any language; comprehending
everything remarkable in its kind, in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America Volume 2
(London: Printed for T. Astley, 1745–47), between pages 656 and 657. See online image
at Gale Cengage Learning Eighteenth Century Collections Online; hard copy is available
at Michigan State University, Special Collections.
108
particularly with low class groups, unlike manumitted males slaves or poor laborers
working at port cities, who had access to tattered European clothing.
Figure 8. “Habits des negres du cap verd”
269
(Source: Histories générale des voyages, vol. 2, between pages 467 and 468)
In contrast, Figure 9 reveals at least two social classes. The black man wearing a
necklace and a loin cloth with a plain panu wrapped around him appears to be lower class
whereas the man with the hat tied with a ribbon or garland is wearing short trousers and
an open shirt with a small band of panu tied around his waist—he might be a sailor. The
other men in the image appear dressed in work attire because they have spears and
loincloths to conceal their bodies while they are harpooning for fishes.
269
The Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde (Historic Nacional Archive of Cape
Verde) also provided this image in a digitized form, but without any reference to the
original document. I looked at the original in Abbè Prevost, Histoire generale des
voyages, ou nouvelle collection de toutes les relations de voyages (Paris: Chez Didot,
1747), between pp.467-468; see online image at Gale Cengage Learning Eighteenth
Century Collections Online as well as hard copy from Michigan State University, Special
Collections.
109
Figure 9. Inhabitants of Cape Verde Islands
270
The above image shows that an “Afro-Atlantic masculine aesthetics” or that dress
expressed black men’s masculinity and status, but European men travelers were not
intrigued with them. As numerous feminist scholars have shown, the encounter with the
271
“other” expresses is usually unambiguously conveyed in a gendered perspective.
Freed black men with some degree of high status tended to wear European clothing, but
they included panu as well as a hat as accessories. Hats were popular in both Portugal
and the Upper Guinea Coast, and they showed masculinity and prestige on the coast and
the islands. Black men of low status wore breeches or loincloths, used panu as shawls,
and sometimes wore necklaces. Their dress reflected the non-Islamized small-scale
societies of Upper Guinea.
270
This image is from an unidentified source possessed by the National Archive in
digitalized form. However the depictions of turtles hints that this image is probably Sal
and Maio, where Europeans purchased turtles before heading to the Caribbean..
However, some scholars have argued that European depictions did not always correspond
to the reality on the ground, see Silvia Hunold Lara, “Customs and Costumes: Carlos
Julião and the Image of Black Slaves in Late Eighteenth-Century Brazil,” Slavery and
Abolition 23, no. 2 (2002): 123–46; Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing
and Transculturation (New York: Routledge, 1992).
271
Joan W. Scott, “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis,” American
Historical Review 91, no. 5 (1986): 1053–75.
110
Women and Dress in Cape Verde during 1800s
The Portuguese Empire attempted to influence the types of clothing worn,
especially on important occasions. When the Portuguese king, Dom Jozé, died on June 9,
1777, there was a royal decree for the islands regarding the proper mourning of the king
272
and the dress required for each social class.
Andrade de Valle de Sorª Mª
273
,a
representative of the king, wrote to the authorities in Ribeira Grande that the mourning
should extend for one year, but within that time span, the first six months should be more
274
formal and the rest “alleviated.”
The decree specified the dress of each class. Military
officers should wear black ties, pants, and socks, with crape design on the left shoulder of
the uniform the side that soldiers carry their swords. Local officials and well-dressed men
should wear a black crape on their hats. Poor men should don black bonnets. Women of
high status should wear a black dress, black vest, and a black cape, while adult females of
low status should be dressed in panu and a black handkerchief. Moreover, the poorest of
the poor women should wear black panus and were permitted to wear white scarves on
their head, but they should be shrouded in black. The royal decree ordered the captainmajor and the local judges to punish violators with three months of prison with a fine of
275
twelve réis.
Poor people could hardly follow the decree, but it does illustrate the
fantasy of the authorities in Lisbon. Although their colonies were far-flung, this decree
272
SGG, Livro 0013, “Bandos e editais Publicados na Ilha de Santiago.
1769/Dezembro–1778/Setembro; fl 37v, AHNCV.
273
The abbreivations could be short version of Soroya Maria, but I am not certain.
274
275
SGG, Livro 0013, f.37v.
SGG, Livro 0013, f.37v.
111
shows Lisbon’s preoccupation with imperial social order and hierarchy encompassed
fashion and dress throughout their empire.
From the Lisbon’s perspective, the use of basic panu as a wrap or shawl was for
the poorest of the poor. In 1818, Manuel Roiz Lucas de Senna wrote that the “use of
panu” was not only commonplace among slaves, but among also the poor population in
276
Santiago.
Senna justified this as an old practice derived from “pagan” roots, i.e.,
Guinean. Despite the outsider’s association of panu with low class and backwardness, in
the islands people continued to value the different types of cotton cloth. Depending on
the type of cloth, prices ranged from expensive to inexpensive. Poor quality panu sold for
277
2,000 réis, whereas the most expensive were 18,000 réis.
During celebrations, an
278
outfit could cost 90–100,000 réis, which included gold earrings and necklaces.
Using
panu was symbol of prestige during the seventeenth century, whereas in the nineteenth
century, it was associated with servile classes, slaves and the poor, who were usually dark
skinned or “black.” Mixed-race or female mulatoes dressed more in European style.
In early nineteenth century, black women’s dress continued to consist of the
cotton cloth as a wrap, a sarong on the shoulders, and headgear. Senna, a Brazilian
administrator temporarily based in Praia, describes it:
The manner to dress the pano is wrap it once around the waist reaching the
ankles . . . is it bounded and secured with the bottom part pulling against
the top part; if not careful can trip on the cloth; this first pano is used to
show off the wealth and a fine shirt is used with it. Another pano covers
276
Manuel Roiz Lucas de Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde 1818.
Annotation and comments by António Carreira (Edition Funded by the President of the
Republic of Cape Verde, 1987), 65.
277
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 65.
278
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 65–66.
112
the body under the shoulder to the arm. The pano is not wore on the head
rather a kerchief resembling a crown-like image; this type of adornment is
common, because these same ladies wore the attire inside their houses as
279
well and only when they leave the they dress like “people.”
However, what is novel is the insinuation that “elite” women dressed more like
European when they left their house, and that “African” dress was confined to the house.
For example, when going to Catholic mass, even a wealthy woman used a very expensive
panu as rug to kneel and pray
280
so as not to roughen her body. Perhaps, there were few
or no pews of the floor in the colonial church. One of her slaves laid the panu on the floor
as a carpet. The other slaves covered her body with another panu. Senna does not show
her dressing in an Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic. The cotton cloth was simply used as
an accessory.
European and Brazilian travelers’ accounts identified women who dressed in the
Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic as black. Slave women did not dress in this manner,
because their social status was the lowest in society. Senna suggests that it was more
281
desirable by the elites for female slaves to conceal part of their bodies.
The essential
area to conceal was from the waist down. The wind pulled the poor quality panu loose
and revealed the skin. A female slave’s attire could also reflect the reputation of his or
her owner. Therefore, according to Senna, domestic female slaves when undertaking an
errand, sending a message, or venturing outside the house dressed in the female
282
slaveholder’s finest panu as symbol of the owner’s wealth.
279
280
281
282
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 66.
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 96.
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 61.
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 61.
113
Although slaves and the
poor majority utilized basic panus, slaves of poor owners usually went naked, barefooted,
or wore rags.
However, the age of the slaves also determined what they wore. Child slaves wore
rags until 7 or so; after that they were given hand-me-down “suits” from the slaveholder’s
house. This practice might have reflected customs from the Upper Guinea Coast in which
children did not wear clothing until they reached a certain age. In other words, slavery
practices in Cape Verde had aspects that harkened back to Guinea in the Atlantic form of
slavery.
283
In this new society, dress continued to reflect the social hierarchy, or an
individual’s place within it. However, Afro-Atlantic women, either freed or born free in
Cape Verde, followed a unique fashion to assert their social mobility in a slave-based
society, in which racialized slavery was the norm, but with flexibility, because even a few
blacks owned slaves. Afro-Atlantic women tended not to imitate European fashion, but
created a fashion expressing their Guinean roots.
The Atlantic slave trade on the Upper Guinea Coast resulted in a regional dress
among the Afro-Atlantic women involved (directly or indirectly) in the slave trade. In
Upper Guinea, including Cape Verde, Afro-Atlantic women were cultural brokers
facilitating trade between locals and “strangers.” During the nineteenth century, in Cape
Verde, European travelers were explicitly identifying Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetics
as exclusively representative of the female black body. In 1818, on their voyage to the
Zaire River, when they stopped in Praia, Christen Smith and James Hingston Tuckey
283
António Correio e Silva argues that rest on the seventh day of the week in the
Atlantic slave system was taken from slave system in mainland Africa and was
transmitted to the Americas via Atlantic islands, such as Cape Verdea and São Tomé.
114
noted that a “half-cast” female equated her fashion of “shift and petticoat” as “à la
negresse.”
284
In 1856, Valdez noted that in Tarrafal, Santiago, and “nhanhas, or white and
285
mulatto ladies, were dressed in European style, although not quite à la mode de Paris.”
That same year, in Fogo, Valdez noted that, “The inhabitants manufacture galans, pannos
d’obra, and counterpanes of various qualities and prices, according to the mandingas
system.”
286
Although this description is from the nineteenth century, it might speak to an
earlier Mande influence. Does this mean that panus were designed “according to the
mandingas system?” Valdez was biased because he thought that the Mandinkas were
more civilized than the gentios (heathens, pagans)—i.e., Africans who practiced
ancestral/ethnic religion—because of their dress, entrepreneurship, “industriousness,” and
“cleverness,” and because they allegedly spoke Arabic. Hence, by the turn of the
nineteenth century there was a clear distinction that blacks wore panu because they were
poor) and derived this practice from their “pagan” roots.
284
James Hingston Tuckey, Narrative of an Expedition to Explore the River Zaire,
usually called the Congo, in South Africa, in 1816, under the direction of Captain J.K.
Tuckey; [to which is add the journal of Professor Smith] (London: Cass, 1967), 14.
285
Valdez, Six Years of a Traveller’s Life in Western Africa, vol. 1, 117–118
286
Valdez, Six Years Travelers, vol. 1, 148.
115
Figure 10. “Woman and Children of Porto-Grande”
(Source: Élisée Reclus, Africa and Its Inhabitants, Vol. II [London: H. Virtue and
Company, 1899, frontispiece])
Although Figure 10 was published in 1899, it appears tp be consistent with
Senna’s description from the early 1800s and earlier. João Lopes Filho refers to the
287
picture in his book as the “primordial” dress in the islands,
which alludes to
“African,” i.e., the “traditional” or pristine African past that the islands are no longer part
of. The caption, “Women and Children of Porto-Grande,” refers to the famous port of
Mindelo City, São Vicente. In contemporary Cape Verdean society, however, most
people of Mindelo, particularly the elites, project more a Europeanized lifestyle, whereas
Santiago was the most “African” of the archipelago. Nonetheless, today’s conception as
well as an ideological bent may distort our understanding of the past. At any rate, the
illustration demonstrates that panu was still popular in the late nineteenth century.
Age played an important role in how an individual would adorn a panu. An adult
woman wrapped her head in addition to a panu di bambú strapped around her body to
secure the baby. In addition, she wore a fine shirt with another type of panu wrapped
287
Filho, O Corpo e o Pão.
116
around her waist as a petticoat. In Figure 10, there is a young woman with her head
wrapped and a panu around her waist with oval patterns, but her upper body is bare. The
third person standing was presumably a young girl, but she has no head wrap, only a
plain panu fastened around her waist.
Despite the importance of panu in the economic and social realms in Cape Verde,
there is little evidence for quantitative analysis before the creation of Company of Grão
Pará and Maranhão (CGPM) in 1755. As a result, we cannot assume that CGPM
increased panu production. It is interesting, however, that we get a glimpse into the
importance of panu, with its precarious dependence on ecological factors, in Cape Verde
in 1721, before CGPM’s meticulous documentation, when George Roberts wrote:
But the last drought, all their cotton shrubs, in a manner, were dry’d up, so
that that cotton, which was before the chief product of their island, is now
a good commodity to carry there: and this scarcity of cotton here, and at
St. Jago, and the European Portuguese understanding that the French
ships, which traded there formerly, used to buy those cloths, as did
likewise the French and English at St. Jago, they procur’d an order, with a
penalty on any one on these islands, who sold cloth to any but subjects of
Portugal; which order is strictly observ’d by the officers of the customs at
St. Jago, tho’ not much minded here, by reason there are no duties paid at
288
this island [Fogo], and consequently no customhouse, or office.
Perhaps, CGPM caused a surge in panu production in Cape Verde for exportation
to the Upper Guinea Coast for slaves destined for Brazil. CGPM devastated the local
economy, which caused vociferous protests from local bureaucrats, because the company
had a monopoly on trading with the archipelago and Portuguese Guinea. Unlike the local
bureaucracy, which kept lousy and dubious records (unsurprising given the number of
officials involved in smuggling), CGPM maintained organized accounts of its
commercial transactions.
288
Roberts, The Four Years Voyages, 418–9.
117
CGPM’s statistics provide a window into panu production. From 1757 to 1782,
133,265 panus reached Upper Guinea. Out of that, 66,948 panus reached Cacheu from
Cape Verde.
289
According to these sources, 64,681 known origin of panus, the majority
was from Fogo. It accounted for 43,696 panus, whereas Santiago registered 19,272 and
Brava 1,713.
290
Even before the establishment of the company, Roberts noted the
importance of Fogo in cotton and cloth production:
Planted cotton in abundance; and this was the greatest mart [sic, market]
for cotton cloths of any of the Cape de Verde Islands, and here the
Portuguese European ships used to trade for cargoes of barafools for
Guinea. The free Blacks, for the most part, are tenants to the whites, who
have taken up most of the land, especially near the sea; some whites
having thirty or forty slaves, and some of the free black have slaves, which
they purchase for cotton cloths, which pass there in room of money, a
cloth being valu’d, and passing current among them for 1000 reas [sic
291
réis]
Between 1758 and 1782, the annual average number of panus exported to Upper
Guinea, mostly Cacheu and Bissau, was 5,255.
292
Cacheu received 65,455 panus; Bissau
received 65,916. The cost for panu from Fogo was higher than the rest, because the
authorities levied higher tariffs on panus from that island. From Fogo, for each panu
ordinários the local administration levied a tariff of 45 réis, whereas the other islands
289
António Carreira, As Companhias Pombalinas: de Grão-Pará e Maranhão e
Pernambuco e Paraíba. Lisbon, Portugal: Editorial Presença, 1982. However, in the 1969
edition, As Companhias Pombalinas de Navegação e Tráfico de Escravos Entre a Costa
Africana e o Nordeste Brasileiro. Centro de Estudos da Guiné Portuguesa, he cites
64,948 panos departing from Cape Verde to Cacheu. In 1973, he noted that 64,948 panos
reached Cacheu, whereas 68,149 reached Bisau and 169 for Sierra Leone.
290
Carreira, As Companhias de Grão Pará, (1969), 238; (1982), 213.
291
292
George Roberts, The Four Years Voyages, 418–9.
Carreira, A Companhia Geral do Grão-Pará e Maranhão:Volume II: Documentos (O
Comércio Intercontinental Portugal-África-Brasil Na Segunda Metade do Século XVIII)
(São Paulo, Brazil: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1988), 171.
118
paid only 30 réis for the same kind of cotton cloth; in Fogo, the tariff for panus agulha
(needled cotton cloth) and de vestir (to wear) was 67.5 réis, but the other islands paid 45
réis; in Fogo, the tariff on panus di bicho (animal shapes), retrós and finos (fine ones),
293
was 90 réis, whereas the remaining islands paid 60 réis for the same type of panus.
During the eighteenth century, panu exported to Upper Guinea was a valuable
commodity for the CGPM.
294
Whereas 2,157,370 kilograms of orchil was valued at
477,000 réis, 133,265 panus earned 630,758 réis for the treasury in Ribeira Grande. From
1797 to 1803, the number of panus exported varied. For instance, in 1799, Bissau
received 19,736; Cacheu recorded 3,343, and 150 reached Lisbon.
295
In 1798, Basto, the
governor of Cape Verde, noted that panu was valuable for procuring slaves in the praças
of Cacheu and Bissau by CGPM.
297
panus were sold there.
296
That same year, Basto estimated that around 2,000
In the early nineteenth century, Feijó estimated between 4,000
298
and 5,000 panus were exported annually.
Carreira argues that Praia’s export statistics
were closer to Feijó’s estimate, i.e., around 3,872 between 1797 and 1803. In contrast,
CGPM’s records indicate that 5,255 panus were actually exported annually to Bissau and
Cacheu. Between 1797 and 1803, there were eight preferred designs: agulha, ordinário,
bicho (all types), fio de lã (wool), restrós, quadrado (squared), listra de fora (all types),
293
294
295
Carreira, A Companhia Geral do Grão-Pará e Maranhão, 171.
Carreira, As Companhias de Grão Pará, (1969), 236.
António Carreira, “A urzela e o pano de vestir—dois productos de exportação,” in
Revista do Centro de Estudos de Cabo Verde 1, no. 1, (1973): 26.
296
Carreira, “A Urzela e o pano de vestir,” 25.
297
298
Carreira, “A urzela e o pano de vestir,” 26.
João da Silva Feijó, Ensaio económico sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde-1797, in
Memórias da Academia das Ciências de Lisboa, Tomo V, 1815.
119
and galã (all types of banded cotton cloth). The most sold was agulha (needled type; 44
percent), ordinário (ordinary patterns; 15.3 percent), and bicho (animal-like designs; 11.9
percent). The panus de ronco was a luxury panu, which sold fewer because it was very
299
expensive; retros cost 3,000 to 5,000 réis.
These percentages show that the most
expensive panus de ronco were sold in limited numbers, to usually elites, and that
agulhas were more common. Thus, in Upper Guinea, commoners could afford to
purchase panus from Cape Verde.
Although we have statistics that refer to Fogo and Santiago as major producers of
panu, São Antão was another island that manufactured the commodity. Some documents
confirm that CGPM obtained panus there as well. During the mid-nineteenth century, in
São Antão locals made pannos d’Agulha and sold them to Guinea.
300
According to
Francisco Travassos Valdez, in 1856, however, São Nicolau had the third best artisans
(after Santiago and Boa Vista).
301
Hence, cotton cloth production in Fogo appeared to
decline in the mid-nineteenth century. There are no statistics to show the quantity of
exports São Nicolau.
In the 1600s, Fogo was the main producer of panu, followed by Santiago and
Brava. This continued in the 1700s (as the records of CGPM corroborate), but by the
early 1800s, Fogo’s production was on the decline. Perhaps São Antão had replaced
Fogo, but further studies need to explore this. By the 1800s, the use of this cotton fabric
had spread throughout the archipelago. Even in the relatively late settlement of Mindelo,
299
300
301
Carreira, “A Urzela e o pano de vestir,” 26–27.
Valdez, Six Years of Travelers, vol. 1, 50.
Valdez, Six Years of Travelers, vol. 1, 63.
120
São Vicente, in the late 1700s, panu was popular, particularly with women of color. The
diffusion of panu had a social significance in Cape Verde, which further linked it to the
social practices in Upper Guinea. Although Fogo was the center of cotton as well as
textile production, we do not know how the people dressed there and if the decrease in
the manufacturing of the cotton cloth affected dress and fashion there.
The social use of panu went beyond fashion. Women used panu to carry babies;
unlike the few Europeans in the islands, African descent individuals, the majority of the
population, used it as a currency; people utilized it as a shawl for mourning, and to wrap
the deceased.
302
Carreira notes there were over 100 types of panu, each of which served
particular purposes. The one for mourning was called panu di luto (mourning cloth): one
303
side is black and other is light blue.
Dyeing one panu with indigo did this and after it
dried, a white strip of cloth was stitched with it.
Furthermore, there are numerous expressions using the word “panu” that reveal
the profound sociocultural influence of this textile in Upper Guinea and Cape Verde.
304
Between Guinean and Cape Verdean Creoles, marra panus means, “to get married.”
Marra panu (literally “tie the cloth”) conveys the union of two things. “In western Africa
Cabo Verdean panos set the standard for ceremonial occasions, bridewealth exchanges,
305
and funeral shrouds—status markers for the dead and the living.”
302
303
304
Among the Wolof in
May 2011 in Arribada, Santiago.
Senna, Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde, 33.
Boletim da Sociedade de Geographia de Lisboa (Lisbon, Portugal: Imprensa
Nacional, 1885), Series 4, Nº 3, 153.
305
Brooks, Landlords and Strangers, 166. David Ames, “The Use of a Transitional
Cloth-Money Token among the Wolof,” American Anthropologist 57 (1955): 1016–24.;
Carreira, Panaria, 1968; Curtin, Economic Change in Precolonial Africa, 1975.
121
306
Senegal and Gambia, cloth has been important in the rituals of the life cycle.
For
example, cotton cloth is traditionally wrapped around the body in Islamic funerals, and it
is used for swaddling an infant in the naming ceremony.
In Upper Guinea, there were three types of panu: panu di bisti (dress panu), panu
di bambú
307
(cloth wrap for baby), and panu di lambú (shoulder cloth), which was used
308
for men as a shawl or toga.
Figure 11. “Felupe”
(Source: Élisée Reclus, Africa and Its Inhabitants, Vol. II, [London: H. Virtue and
Company, 1899, between pages 180 and 181].)
Figure 11 shows Felupe wearing panus in the Guinea-Bissau region circa 1899.
The Felupe man in the middle was the chief because he wore a tall European hat, which
was a symbol of the Atlantic, demonstrating his extensive power. The Felupe leader has a
306
David Gamble, The Wolof of Senegambia (London: International African Institute),
62–69.
307
Bambú is a Krioulo word that means, “to carry,” and is derived from Mandink.
308
António Carreira, “A Urzela e o pando de vestir,” 21.
122
spear and dagger, and a shield hanging over this shoulder. The imposing figure was
wearing a white and black striped panu di lambú. On the right side of this image another
Felupe, armed with a musket, wore a smaller version of the panu di lambú and an earring.
On the left side of the picture is another male warrior/soldier, who is armed with a
musket and wears a necklace and bracelets.
According to João Lopes Filho, by the mid-nineteenth century, Cape Verdean
male “work cloth” was Europeanized, but female clothing tended to show more diversity,
was less Europeanized, particularly among the poor.
309
In Cape Verde, panus was in
ceremonies such as funerals, marriages, and for social visits, whereas on the mainland,
women utilized it in “marriage, baptism, festive or solemn ceremonies, mass, procession,
cordial visits, and receptions.”
310
In Cape Verde, freed African women and their descendants exhibited an AfroAtlantic feminine aesthetic that showed an African form of wealth and power that
illustrated their freed status and social standing. This, in turn, dovetailed with the social
hierarchy of the archipelago. In Upper Guinea and Cape Verde, the lower classes,
especially slaves, utilized plain panus. In Cape Verde, black women who exhibited an
Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic were called donas or nha. Their counterparts on the
mainland were called nharas and signares, respectively, for the Luso-Africans and
Franco-African women. The Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic began in Africa, and may
have been a template that developed in various local forms in Spanish Caribbean,
Cartagena, Brazil, and other parts of the Americas, where a large population of Africans
309
310
Filho, O Corpo e o Pão, 30–33.
Carreira, “A urzela e o pano de vestir,” 22.
123
and their descendants lived. During the era of the Atlantic slave trade, panu reached
places such as Brazil, Cartagena, and Angola. Did David Wheat’s morena horra possess
an Afro-Atlantic feminine aesthetic? It appears that the signares of Saint Louis and Gorée
Island of French Senegal had commercial and kinship connections in the French
Caribbean. Did the signares, as resourceful entrepreneurial African women, spread this
dress across the ocean? Future research should focus on the dress of Africans in the
Atlantic basin: coastal Africa and African diaspora developed and any cross-cultural
exchange in that realm. This is important in the historiography of the Atlantic slave trade
because it reveals linkages in aesthetics. Recent studies on the impact of the Atlantic
slave trade in Atlantic Africa have focused on African cultural responses.
311
In the Black
Atlantic, studies have shown the importance of dress and fashion as resistance,
accommodation, and assimilation, but we still lack detailed studies that link an African
diaspora with a specific region. Rather, scholars tend to invoke “Africanism” as a sort of
a monolithic African culture or mixing of African traditions without considering a
particular region. However, studies on rice knowledge transfer and religious practices and
312
beliefs in the Africa diaspora show direct links with specific Africa regions.
311
Hawthorne, Planting Rice and Harvesting Slaves, 2003; Silviane A. Diouf (ed.),
Fighting the Slave Trade: West African Strategies (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press,
2003); G. Ugo Nwokeji, The Slave Trade and Culture in the Bight of Biafra: An African
Society in the Atlantic World (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Rebecca
Shumway, The Fante and the Transatlantic Slave Trade (Rochester, NY: University of
Rochester Press, 2011); Green, The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade; Ferreira,
Cross-Cultural Exchange in the Atlantic World.
312
Judith Carney, Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in the Americas
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001); James Sweet, Recreating Africa:
Culture, Kinship, and Religion in the African-Portuguese World, 1441–1770 (Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003); Edda L. Fields-Black, Deep Roots: Rice
Farmers in West Africa and the African Diaspora (Bloomington: Indiana University
124
Press, 2008); Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil: Culture, Identity, and an Atlantic Slave
Trade, 1600–1830 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010).
125
CHAPTER 3
SOCIAL UNEASE IN A SLAVE SOCIETY:
FLIGHT, “SOCIAL BANDITRY,” AND RELIGIOUS HETERODOXY,
c.1700–c. 1800
With the rise of branku di terra in the mid-seventeenth century, as shown in
chapter 2, the social terrain would dramatically change by the 1700s. This period saw the
intensification of mercantile capitalism, which resulted in a surge in scale of the Atlantic
slave trade, which in turn transformed the nature of slavery in Cape Verde from a more
flexible type, an “African” form, into the more rigid Atlantic type. During the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries, Ismail Rashid also argues that the increase in slave uprising and
fugitive slave communities on the Upper Guinea Coast was “part of [a] continuous thread
of antislavery in the continent” demonstrating Africans did not accept servitude prior to
European abolitionism.
313
The transformation of slave trade and slavery precipitated
overt resistance, rather than subtle cultural resistance, such as in fashion and dress,
though that continued as well.
During the 1700s, Cape Verde was undergoing a political and social upheaval due
to the rise of a new social class, the brankus di terra (whites of the land), and challenges
to the slave system. Manumitted slaves were demanding to be allowed to marry enslaved
women; freed and fugitive slaves were organized in bands causing mayhem, in the form
of robbery, killing, and attacking properties. There were maroon communities,
particularly in the interior of Santiago Island. The social hierarchy of the Catholic Church
had been weakened and was in disarray due to poor finances, priests involved in slave
trade as well as committing sexual and “blasphemous acts.” Famine also put pressure on
313
Ismail Rashid, “‘A Devotion to the Idea of Liberty at Any Price,’” 132.
126
people to sell free and slaves to mostly British merchants, whereas others were forced
into slavery. Given this atmosphere, the predominance of the brankus di terra in
positions of the local administration created hysteria from Portuguese colonial officials.
Rise of Brankus di Terra: Fear, “Race,” and Governance
Long before the discourse of eugenics and scientific racism in the late nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries,
314
during the eighteenth century, some Portuguese officials
in Cape Verde linked the rise of a group of people of African descent, mostly mulattoes
315
and blacks, in positions of power to the social instability of the colony.
During the
1960s, C. R. Boxer refuted Salazarist propaganda that argued racial harmony by
suggesting that race relations was more complex in the Portuguese Empire, because it
consisted of violence via conquest to facilitate “a maritime and commercial empire,
316
called thalassocracy. Nonetheless, he noted that there were fewer conflicts with Africans
in Upper Guinea. Boxer argued
Uninhibited sexual intercourse between Black and White did result in the
creation of a thoroughly Portuguese Mulatto population, on the Cape
Verde Islands and on those of São Tomé and Principe in the Gulf of
Guinea. Whereas on the mainland it was more a matter of the Portuguese
traders and adventures becoming Africanized than of the Negroes
becoming Europeanized, the racial fusion in the islands resulted in the
317
dominance of European cultural traits.
314
María Elena Martínez, Genealogical Fictions: Limpieza De Sangre, Religion, and
Gender in Colonial Mexico (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2008). Richard
Graham, ed., The Idea of Race in Latin America, 1870–1940 (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 1990).
315
James Sweet, “The Iberian Roots of American Racist Thought,” William and Mary
Quarterly 54, no. 1 (1997): 143–66.
316
C. R. Boxer, Race Relations in the Portuguese Colonial Empire, 1415–1825 (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1963), 2.
317
Boxer, Race Relations in the Portuguese Colonial Empire, 13.
127
While Boxer acknowledged that manumission was prevalent in the Portuguese
Empire, he argued that racial mixing did not mean absence of “racial prejudice” by
Portuguese men. Deirdre notes that consistent with the Iberian model of slavery system,
in Cape Verde there was a propensity for manumission, acceptance of racial mixing,
resulting in a significant mestiço population; moreover, there was a nominal common
religion of Catholicism and slave and masters were in close proximity because lack of a
large complex plantation regimes in Cape Verde. Despite all these features in Cape
Verde, Deirdre persuasively contends that this did not promote a utopian and mild form
318
of slavery.
Given the smaller and dispersed slave populations and close proximity to
their owners, Meintel suggests a cross-cultural exchange in the slave–master relationship
in Cape Verde, and she argues that slave resistance and rebellion was less probable given
319
the geography.
She maintains there were occasional escapes to the interior given
pirate raids and that whites’ fear were due to their small numbers in comparison to nonwhites. Rather I argue that that the fear was due to slave resistance and rebellions, which
have not been written about too much given the lack of documentation and focus on the
elite class.
On April 16, 1731, José da Costa Ribeiro, the general auditor of Cape Verde
(Ouvidor Geral das ilhas de Cabo Verde), wrote that the five inhabited islands, Santo
Antão, São Nicolau, Boa Vista, Maio and Brava, lacked judicial administration so that
neither the governor nor the magistrate of the island of Santiago had control of these five
318
Deirdre Meintel, Race, Culture, and Portuguese Colonialism in Cabo Verde
(Syracuse, NY: Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University,
1984), 74–87.
319
Meintel, Race, Culture, and Portuguese Colonialism in Cabo Verde, 86.
128
islands
320
Santo Antão had more than 300 houses (fogos) in Ribeira Grande, not to be
confused with town of the same name on Santiago Island. In São Nicolau, the town of
Ribeira Brava had 200 houses with an additional 60 houses on the outskirts of the town.
The royal authorities decided that there should be ordinary judges (juízes ordinarios),
aldermen, and officers for the local administration. The general auditor of Cape Verde,
Ribeiro, believed that Santo Antão and São Nicolau had a sufficient stable population to
establish twelve officials per island to serve for a period of three years. There were few
“white men from the [Portuguese] kingdom,” but there were plenty of brankus di terra
“that were “actually mulatos and many blacks.”
321
Riberio was worried that the small
population of Iberian Portuguese men that were about forty to fifty in total population in
322
those five islands had died given their old age—usually they were ages 50 and above.
Ribeiro wrote that he saw aldermen that could not read in Santiago, which he
noted was also the case in Portugal. Ribeiro recommended the exclusion of brankus di
terra in local elections. Brankus di terra were already serving in the local administration
of Praia as well as Ribeira Grande of Santiago, particularly in the judicial and agricultural
ministerial positions, and blacks were guards at customs, attorney’s assistants
(procuradores do auditorio), warders, porters, ensign captains, lieutenants, and warrant
320
SGG, Liv 0001, “Ordens das Cortes Copiadas a Mando do Desembargador
Sindicante Custódio Correa de Mattos. Inclui Correspondência c/autoridades Internas e
Externas, Provisões, treslados, Provimentos entre Outros.” (N.º-A-42); 1674/Nov-1754;
174/200-cópia manuscritas, f.101–103.
321
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101. In the Sahel Region of Upper Guinea, besides the Portuguese
introduction of “race,” Tuareg/Arabs had their own history of racial discourse; see Bruce
Hall, A History of Race in Muslim West Africa, 1600–1960.
322
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101v.
129
323
officers.
Moreover, the soldiers were black, usually without shoes or shirts, but when
guarding their captains, they wore shirts and shoes. Given the small population of whites
and the rise of the brankus di terra, blacks replaced the whites in the management of the
farms in Santiago. Ribeiro wanted to prevent from occurring in the five islands, which
had happened in Santiago, Maio, and Fogo, for instance.
Although there were plenty of people to cultivate the land, Ribeiro lamented that
manumitted blacks, who were “numerous,” lived in the rural and mountainous areas and
did not desire to work throughout the archipelago.
324
The authorities believed that these
freed blacks lived like “heathens,” and that most stole and few worked, i.e., few worked
for landowners. The owners of the farmlands, or former slaveholders, did not have slaves
to labor for them and they had become poor. A freed black received ten tostoens (copper
metal coins) equivalent to 800 reis
325
for attending to grazing livestock, chopping sugar
cane, and cropping. According to royal correspondence, they refused to work or provide
services to landowners, and allegedly preferred to walk nude and rob, especially when it
was suggested they should work.
cows
323
324
325
327
326
In addition to robbery, killings and the selling of
were mentioned, but that there were no arrests because blacks did not arrest
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101.
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101v.
In colonial Brazil, circa 1695–1833, tostão, singular of tostões, was 80 réis; see
Claudio Amato, Irlei S. Neves, and Arnaldo Russo, Livro das moedas do Brasil: 1643 a
2004. 11th ed. (São Paulo, Brazil: Stampato, 2004). I would assume that the value was
about the same in colonial Cape Verde.
326
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101v.
327
The theft of cows plagues the islands to this day. In Upper Guinea, decentralized
societies, such as Balanta, stole cows as part of rites of rituals to offset individuals
accruing too much wealth in those egalitarian societies.
130
blacks. Allegedly, there were more than 300 criminals roaming Santiago. Ribeiro may
have been white, and born and raised in Portugal, given his high position and his ideas on
race. His racial analysis was akin to the fracist metropolitan perspective, because he
denied that brankus di terras were whites and his report is fixated on skin color as the
cause of the deterioration of the islands and the soldiers’ behavior.
In reality, the soldiers were ill equipped, living in squalid and wretched conditions,
and were not motivated to arrest people, regardless of the skin color. In the Atlantic
world and Africa, manumitted slaves did not want to work for the former masters, but
wanted to reintegrate with their kin and create their own social space. Ribeiro
acknowledged that these black “criminals” attended mass, but the only “remedy for these
evils” was to send “anew white men to populate the islands.”
328
Thus, criminals were not
restricted to people that robbed, killed, or practiced blasphemous rituals, but those that
rejected work from slaveholders. According to Ribeiro, the only way to stem the rise of
vadios (vagabonds) and gentilidade (heathenism) in Santo Antão and São Nicolau was to
elect Iberian Portuguese (or whites, as he referred to them) as ordinary judges and in
positions in the chambers in both islands. He cited Fogo as an example because there
there was no military regiment. Ribeiro suggested that the appointed clerk should
collaborate with the judiciary as well as the inspector that valuates the currency
(almotaçaria) as was the practice in Portugal. Ribeiro also suggested that the selection of
warders as well as judges for orphans should be done by those “most capable” of
assisting the people. The clerk and the manager (feitor) in each island should be elected
by the government or by the officials of the chamber; and that the clerks and overseers of
328
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101v.
131
the islands should provide assessment of the agricultural conditions to the local
329
administration in Santiago.
For Ribeiro, the local authorities must know the about the
economic realities of Santo Antão and São Nicolau. Each ombudsman of the islands was
to collect income annually and submit an allowance to the exchequer in Ribeira Grande,
Santiago. For Santo Antão and São Nicolau, Ribeiro recommended having a regular
clergyman to attend to more than 1,000 inhabitants, which he felt needed spiritual
guidance. The two priests’ expenses would be covered by the tithes. “Each island of
Boavista, Maio and Brava should annually elect a judge and for the presidential judge
330
chosen among important men of each islands approved by the auditor.”
All candidates
should be white men from Portugal to prevent further deterioration of the islands, and this
was intended to thwart the rise of brankus di terras as well as establishing effective
control in islands and protect them from the British presence, which Portugal considered
interference in their political space. Perhaps this was a lesson learnt from their loses to
the Dutch in the seventeenth century, which occurred in Elmina of the Gold Coast region
and their temporary lost of Pernambuco in Brazil and Luanda in Angola. Another
response was the creation of the Company of Grão Pará and Maranhão (CGPM) in 1755
to provide Portuguese settlers in the Amazonian captaincies of Grão Pará and Maranhão
due to active resistance of indigenous population there as well as reestablishing
Portugal’s presence in Upper Guinea during the ascendancy of French and British
331
commercial activities.
329
330
331
SGG, Liv 0001, f.101v.
SGG, Liv 0001, f.102.
Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil, 61.
132
The rise of blacks, mulattoes, or people suspected of Jewish or Muslim descent
was a concern for the authorities.
332
In Cape Verde, it was not just Jewish and black
identities that were racialized, but from the evidence above also Muslim identities, and
Green underscores that “otherization” in Cape Verde remained couched in religious
purity and not skin color like in the Caribbean. The fear of Muslim identities in Cape
Verde has not been explored and must be linked to Iberians’ experience of being
colonized by the Moors, or, perhaps more important, their interaction with Muslim
Africans in Senegambia. Although the rhetoric of racial identities was linked to religion,
the main concern was about blacks and mulattoes assuming position of power. On August
14, 1761, a royal letter recommended that the governor of Cape Verde “consider José de
Evora de Macedo as captain for the white regiment rather than Colonel Antonio de
Barros Bezerra who guarded the city of Ribeira Grande.”
333
In 1764, Francisco Pereira]
da Fonseca, an official in Ribeira Grande, referred to the still prevalent suspicion of
officials having descended from “New Christian, Muslim or mulatto.”
334
“Whiteness” was preserved among the elites, particularly brancos de réinos
(whites of the kingdom) when it came to marriage. Filhos de terra, whites born in Cape
Verde, preferred that their daughters marry white men, especially those from Portugal.
332
For the development of race and religion link in Cape Verde, see Toby Green,
“Building Creole Identity in the African Atlantic: Boundaries of Race and Religion in
17th Century Cabo Verde,” History in Africa 36 (2009): 103–25; Green, The Rise of the
Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Cf this works by Green with, Chouki El Hamel, Black
Morocco: A History of Slavery, Race, and Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2013).
333
Secretaria Geral do Governo (SGG), Livro 0007, “Registo de Ordens, Alvarás,
Patentes e Provisões; 1754/Dezembro/19-Março, 27, 1772. 174 fls; cópias manuscritas.”
334
SGG, Liv 0004, f.234–235v.
133
335
There was a “superwhite” power structure,
particularly given the few whites, but with
the rise of brankus di terra that began to change. The governors were always from
Portugal and the first line of the military (primeira linha) was Iberian Portuguese.
Although favoring manumission of mulattoes as early as the sixteenth century, in 1767,
Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Paço declared that the Law of September 19, 1761 should
favor emancipation of mulatto slaves in the Americas, Africa, and Asia arriving in
Portugal.
336
In 1721, manumitted slaves in Brava told George Roberts that they were
fortunate to be free and in Cape Verde because on the mainland blacks were being taken
337
away as slaves by whites every year.
While governor in 1834, Martinho, who was
Iberian Portuguese, noted that people in Santiago firmly believed that “O Pico d’Antonia,
[peak of Mountain of Anthony], who has delivered us from there and get rid of the white
devil.”
338
The heat from out of the top of the mountain would cause fever, usually killing
the Portuguese, which was part of a sociopsychological struggle.
It was from this perspective that an anonymous person, who claimed to be “loyal to
the Portuguese Crown,” wrote in 1784 that tradition in Santiago claimed that Wolof were
the original inhabitants before the Portuguese arrived, but these black families were
335
336
Brooks, Cabo Verde and Western Africa, 32.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho & Outros
Textos, Daniel A. Pereira, apresentação, notas e comentários, (Praia, Cape Verde:
Instituto Camões-Centro Cultural Português, 2008), 115.
337
The Four Years Voyages of Capt. George Roberts, 181.
338
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 47. Pico
d’Antonio in Santiago is revered today.
134
339
Christianized.
The tradition highlighted that within the Jolof Empire, on the mainland
of the Upper Guinea, there was a power struggle for the succession of king in which a
defeated faction fled on a canoe to retreat to a safer location within the empire, but
instead landed in Santiago, island of Cape Verde, due to the turbulent wind currents.
340
According to Jorge Querido, this oral history originates with André Donelha.
In 1625,
Donelha described a dispute concerning the royal succession among the Wolof king and
vassals in which the king ordered the killing of his rival, the “Jonais” generation,
including men, women, and children, but some were able to escape and embarked on a
canoe with family, slaves, and ivory, and ended up in the Cape Verde Islands either
before 1460 or around the discovery of Cape Verde by the Portuguese.
341
Avelino
Texeira da Mota argues that Donelha compressed the sequence of events and implicitly
342
dismisses the idea that the Jonais took refuge in Cape Verde around this time.
In 1797,
João da Silva Feijó, a Brazilian naturalist, gave a similar version but this time it was the
343
Floups that had attacked the Wolofs.
In 1810, António Pusich mentioned that Wolof
internecine fighting caused Wolof refugees to settle in Santiago before Portuguese
339
Anonymous writer, Notícia Corográfica e Cronológica do Bispado de Cabo Verde,
ed. António Carreira (Lisbon, Portugal: Instituto Caboverdeano de Livro, 1985), 20.
340
Jorge Querido, Um Demorado Olhar sobre Cabo Verde: O País, sua Génese, seu
Percurso suas Certezas e Ambiguidades (Lisbon, Portugal: Chiado Editora, 2011), 41.
341
Audré Donellia, An Account of Sierra Leone and the Rivers of Guinea of Cape Verde
(1625), ed. Avelino Teixeira da Mota with notes and English translation by P. E. H. Hair
(Centro de Estudos de Cartografia Antiga, No 19) (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de
Investigações do Ultramar, 1977), 137.
342
An Account of Sierra Leone, f.220, 285.
343
João da Silva Feijó, Ensaios e Memórias Económicas sobre as Ilhas de Cabo Verde
(Século XVII), Apresentação Notas e Comentários de António Carreira. (Praia, Cape
Verde: Instituto Caboverdeano do Livro, 1986), 1–2.
135
arrival.
344
In 1841, José C. C. Chelmicki reiterated this story,
345
but it was Lopes de
Lima in 1844 that dismissed Donelha’s claim and ever since the majority of scholars have
maintained the Portuguese (or at least Europeans) discovered Cape Verde.
346
Nonetheless, in a geographical dictionary about the Portuguese Empire published in
1850, Joze Maria de Souza Monteiro, Honorary General Secretary of the Province of
Cape Verde, agreed that João da Noli discovered Santiago in 1460, and though Monteiro
dismissed the claim that the Wolofs settled on Santiago Island before the Portuguese
arrived, he felt compelled to include this preposterous idea because it was “generally
believed by the people of Santiago.”
347
Green argues these two historiographical views
existed because during the colonial period the discourse centered on Portuguese
“discovery” and initiative, and post-independence the possibility was raised of a prePortuguese settlement (or at least knowledge of the islands).
348
Yet the aforementioned
344
António Carreira, “Conflitos sociais em Cabo Verde no século XVII,” Revista de
História Económica Social nº 15 (1985): 63–88.
345
Chelmicki and Varnhagen, Corografia cabo-verdiana (1841), 4.
346
See Toby Green for a discussion of the historiography of Cape Verde as influenced
by Salazar’s propaganda, “Masters of Difference. Creolization and the Jewish Presence in
Cabo Verde, 1497-1672,” Ph.D diss., University of Birmingham, Birmingham, England,
2006), 5–16.
347
Joze Maria de Souza Monteiro, Diccionario Geographico das Provincias e
Possessões Portuguezas no Ultramar (Lisbon, Portugal: Typographia Lisbonense, 1850),
482. Wolof influence on Santiago Creole is evident, but usually it is attributed to slaves
brought from the mainland by the Portuguese. There are villages in the interior of
Santiago with place names of “Jalalo.” Could this be a corruption of “Jolof,” “Jeloff,”
and other spellings? There are place names with distinctive African toponyms, such as
Jabundo, Casança (Kasanga), Jarakunda, and Cocoli. For a discussion of place names as
historical evidence, see Stephan Bühnen, “Place Names as an Historical Source: An
Introduction with Examples from Southern Senegambia and Germany,” History in Africa
19 (1992): 45–101.
348
Green, Masters of Difference, 5.
136
authors noted that locals on Santiago believe this, despite the imperial discourse to erase
this memory away during the colonial period. Rather, it is in post-independence, that the
locals on Santiago did not possess this memory. Hence, Green believes it to be a
postcolonial (re)construction approach, which ignores the fact that this ideological battle
went on during the colonial period as well.
In the post-independent era, however, Jorge Querido remembers us that the Arabs
349
knew about Cape Verde before the Portuguese stumbled upon it.
Richard Lobban also
underscores the possibility that visitors prior to the European arrival include Hanno the
Phoenician in the fifth century B.C.E., Lebou fishermen from Senegal, Malian
sailors under Mansa Ulli, and medieval Arab mariners coming down the coast and seeing
350
smoke rising from Fogo.
A recent archeological excavation in Salamansa, São
Vicente, revealed that the island had a stable settlement during the seventeenth century,
though at first João Luís Cardoso and António Manuel Monge Soares believed that this
349
Querido, Um Demorado Olhar, 44. Querido mentions that the twelfth-century Arab
geographer Edrissi, noted that Arabs expelled by the Reconquista in 1154 in Lisbon led
and arrived in the Canaries and had knowledge of other lands in the “interior of the
ocean.” Querido also cites in the 14th century, an Egyptian Omari, wrote that in 1354 that
the king of Mali Empire, Mansa Musa I, informed, an Egyptian, Ib Amir Hadjid, that the
people of Senegal had “commercial contact” with some distant islands away from the
mainland.
350
Richard A. Lobban, Jr, “Were the Portuguese the First To Visit Cape Verde (1),”
Cimboa 5, no. 6 (1998): 10. Lobban suggests that archaeology may help to give some
hard evidence, but unfortunately archaeological excavation have focused on Portuguese
activities. Recently, however, research was done in Salamansa, São Vicente, to address
this issue. Moreover, Daniel Pereira noted how some Cape Verdean fishermen in simple
canoes were lost at sea for 45 days and then reappeared off the coast of Brazil, which
suggests that Africans on the coast with canoes were capable of traveling to the islands as
well as other visitors, see Subsídios para a História de Cabo Verde e Guiné, 2nd ed., vol.
I, 21n, 484. Pereira also notes that he remembers as a youngster when local fishermen
disappeared on several ocassions, but it was learned that they had reached the coasts of
Senegal, Gambia, or Guinea-Bissau. He also notes why the reverse is possible.
137
settlement was African in origin because carbon-14 dating estimated it was circa 1450–
1500; upon further excavation, the archaeologists suggested that was Portuguese in origin
351
but with African pottery made in the settlement to suggest African presence as well.
In
addition to Ribeira Grande, Santiago, archeological excavations need to be done in other
places. In the historiography of Cape Verde, this is a controversial issue: mainstream
Cape Verdean scholars side with the idea of a European discovery, but prominent
scholars, such as António Carreira and António Correio e Silva, do not rule out the
possibility of a small African settlement in the interior of Santiago prior to the Portuguese
arrival. João Lopes Filho remarked on the impossibility of such settlement and stated that
352
this oral tradition served another purpose, such as mythology.
353
disparate forms.
The debate continues in
Historians cannot dismiss this as hearsay or even mythology, but
rather as part of the political contestation of the period. Therefore, this oral tradition was
part of an ideological battle that included other forms, such as flight, the demand for
354
rights, and other coping strategies under slavery and colonialism.
351
João Luís Cardoso and António Manuel Monge Soares, “A estação arqueológica de
Salamansa (ilha de São Vicente, República de Cabo Verde,” Revista Portuguesa de
Arqueologia 13 (2010): 168.
352
Personal communication at the National Archive in Praia, Cape Verde circa
September 2011.
353
The Antoni da Noli Academic Society claims that the society’s namesake is the
discoverer of Cape Verde; see http://adenoli.com/. Professor Marcello Ferrada de Noli is
the founder of the society and honorary president. As his surname implies, Ferrada de
Noli is a descendant of Antóni da Noli.
354
Bruce Mouser, “Rebellion, Marronage and Jihad: Strategies of Resistance to Slavery
on the Sierra Leone Coast, c.1783–1796,” Journal of African History 48 (2007): 27–44;
Jean Allman, Susan Geiger, and Nakanyike Musisi, eds. Women in African Colonial
Histories (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002); John Hope Franklin, Runaway
Slaves: Rebels on the Plantation (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000); Hilary
138
Slaves were not only taking flight, but also using the legal system to obtain
manumission and asserting the rights that accompanied their “freedom.” On February 7,
1701, Portuguese authorities responded to a report written by Antonio Dias do Amaral,
clerk of Chamber of Ribeira Grande, Santiago Island, about demands made by pretos
355
forros (freed black males).
The pretos forros wished to marry and those already
married to female slaves petitioned to be liberated from captivity. The pretos forros
sought godparents, friends, or parents to file petitions on their behalf. Perhaps they did
not have the money or were not literate. These people were part of a kinship in which
they were relatives or friends of either the female slaves or the pretos forros. The
slaveholders deemed the request to sell their female slaves a “repugnant” idea, which
caused them to demand an exorbitant price. The Portuguese Crown argued to the auditor
of Cape Verde that the slaveholders’ attitude was “a disservice to Our God” and that the
356
king “favored freedom and equally matrimony.”
Portugal coaxed the slaveholders to
set a fair price, one in which the value was not solely based on the slave price in Cape
Verde, but also on the slave’s “quality of service.” The monarchy, as father of the
357
Empire, preferred his (male) dependents to be married,
which was incompatible with
slavery. In addition to these justifications for permitting the manumitted slaves legal
McDonald Beckles, Natural Rebels: A History of Enslaved Black Women in Barbados
(New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1989).
355
Secretaria Geral do Governo (SGG), Liv 0004, Alvarás, Ordens, Decretos e
Provisões da Corte: Contem abecedários no fim. Ago/1699-05/Mar/1776; 343/387 fls;
cópias manuscritas, f.97v-98. Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde.
356
SGG, Liv0004, 97v–98.
357
Kirsten Schultz, Tropical Versailles: Empire, Monarchy, and the Portuguese Royal
Court in Rio de Janeiro, 1808–1821 (New York: Routledge, 2001).
139
matrimony, there was fear that these slaves might create problems. Certainly, they could
join the different bands and even go into the interior to join maroon communities.
Manumission, however, seemed the best mechanism to appease slaves
individually to prevent flight, which created independent communities, at times, and
simply engendered unrest within the urban spaces. Thus, as late as 1750, Dom Joseph,
king of Portugal, wrote that a case of a female slave of Bahia, Brazil, that was granted
freedom should be “applied to all other similar cases in Porto, Bahia, Rio de Janeiro and
other parts”
358
of the Portuguese Empire, which the authorities in Ribeira Grande duly
noted should be compiled with. It was the responsibility of Dr. Manoel Gomes de
Carvalho, the King’s Counsel, to disseminate the information of this decree to all the
Portuguese possessions.
During the eighteenth century in Cape Verde, slaves obtained manumission via
payment and inheritance. It is possible that slave sailors tried to use the decree of 1761.
On June 4, 1776, João do Sylva Vasconcellos, secretary of the governor, maintained that
complying with the royal decree of September 19, 1761, meant that slave sailors coming
from the Americas to Portugal were not exempted from performing their maritime
obligations.
359
Otherwise, slaves that landed in the ports of Portugal must be freed in
conformity with the charter. João do Sylva Vasconcellos emphasize that the decree of
1761 did not mean that slave sailors employed on commercial ships or any other
activities as residents of the Americas were not under the provision of the said charter.
358
359
360
SGG, Liv0004, ff.219–222.
SGG, Lv0013, ff.34.
SGG, Lv0013, ff.34–34v.
140
360
Sylva Vasconcellos also emphasized that the authorities in the ports of Ribeira Grande
and Praia must conduct a thorough examination of the ship’s list of names—slaves, their
owners, and free people—in the same manner as was done for non-Portuguese ships.
361
Hence, the slave sailors were to perform their duties and return from whence they came
from. The authorities of Ribeira Grande and Praia were ordered to be on notice and
enforce this decree. On May 20, 1776, the commander of the praça of Bissau was warned
about slave sailors working for the Portuguese Empire should not be freed upon reaching
the port of Bissau.
362
Cristina Nogueira da Silva and Keila Grinberg argue that the
decrees of 1761 and 1773 was to rid Portugal from the social stigma of a black presence
rather than advocating abolitionism, but these were unintended consequences of slaves
filing for freedom suits.
363
This combined with the internal dynamics of the society to
favor manumission in Cape Verde.
On May 2, 1778, in Ribeira Grande, Santiago, the authorities noted that Sebastião
de Barros, a black man and a carpenter, was the slave of Donna Maria de Barros.
364
Colonel João Freire Andrade, the nephew of Dona Barros, claimed that her aunt wrote a
legal contract on March 10, 1779 that Sebastião, her slave, should be freed, but it
365
stipulated that he must live in “her company.”
Dona Barros refuted this assertion
about a previous contract that she donated her slave to her nephew Andrade. Dona Barros
361
362
363
SGG, Lv0013, ff.34v–35.
SGG, Lv 0012, ff.135.
Cristina Nogueira Da Silva and Keila Grinberg, “Soil Free from Slaves: Slave Law in
Late Eighteenth- and Early Nineteenth-Century Portugal,” Slavery and Abolition 32, no.
3 (2011): 431–46.
364
SGG, Lv0011, ff.23.
365
SGG, Lv 0011, f.23.
141
maintained that a subsequent contract (of April 20, 1775) removed any conditions about
his liberty and that Sebastião should serve on the “re-edification of the Cathedral.”
366
Sebastião used the six days of pay to feed his wife and four young children. Apparently,
367
Colonel Andrade was “malignant and persecuted him and he fled.”
Colonel Andrade,
as a powerful person, managed to get an order for Sebastião’s arrest. Moreover, Sebastião
quarreled about only receiving three vintéis per day to support his family. It was ordered
that Sebastião be paid to support his family and that he had liberty and, as such, could
368
work as a free person.
Others did not pursue legal recourses to address their social
status as slaves, but took flight, sometimes temporarily and sometimes permanently.
A major attraction could have been maroon communities like Julangue,
370
located in the interior of Santiago during the early 1700s.
369
These rebel slaves were
causing problems for landowners and menacing people on the roads. In 1709, Governor
Gonçalos Lemos Mascarenhas sent a military force led by Captain Francisco Araújo
Veiga, Major Sergeant Belchior Monteiro, Ordinary Judge António de Souza, and
Captain of Infantry Francisco Soares with more than 400 militiamen. In 1710, Xavier
Lopes Vitella, general auditor (ouvidor-geral), noted that Julangue had some 600 slaves,
which meant the expeditionary force was not successful. As late as 1719, the military
366
367
368
369
SGG, Liv0011, f.23v.
SGG, Liv0011, f.23v.
SGG, Liv 0011, f.23v–24.
“Julangue” is a Mande ethnonym. They may have been recent arrivals from Upper
Guinea.
370
António Correia e Silva, “Da Contestação social à transgressão cultural: forros e
fujões na sociedade escravocrata cabo-verdiana com referência aos modelos atlânticos,”
Anais 3, no. 1 (Abril 2001): 7–18.
142
expeditionary force was still fighting the rebel maroon community. Although the local
militiamen captured Domingos Lopes, one of Julangue leaders, the group continued for
several years after their violent confrontation with the local military force. The name of
the maroon corresponded to the locality they occupied in central region of Santiago (i.e.,
Santa Catarina). Correia e Silva believes that they existed for at least fifteen years.
Although maroon-like communities existed in the interior of Santiago, there were
also temporary flights by slaves that warranted the attention of the authorities. As Flávio
Gomes has argued, there exist few studies devoted to petite marronage or temporary
371
flight
and this applies to Cape Verde, particularly Santiago, Fogo, and São Antão.
Rather than a move away from the permanent flight, it is important to understand the
interrelationship between the two, which corresponds to an urban and rural division, as
372
studies of African cities show that this was/is a relationship between the two areas.
In the case of Cape Verde, the maroon communities in the interior of Santiago
allowed for social banditry to flourish in Ribeira Grande, Praia, and other urban spaces
because slaves and forros used this unstable atmosphere to create niche for themselves,
instead of disappearing into the mountainous interior of Santiago. Moreover, the constant
pirate attacks, passing ships, diseases, droughts, and famines made Cape Verde a highly
volatile colony despite the royal administration and military. By the 1700s, the islands
were in a precarious situation, which the Portuguese authorities in Lisbon felt were due to
the rise of brankus di terra. According to Flávio Gomes, “there are official reports of
371
Flávio Gomes, “Africans and Petit Marronage in Rio de Janeiro, ca. 1800–1840,”
Luso-Brazilian Review 47, no. 2 (2010): 77.
372
Catherine Coquery-Vidrovitch, The History of African Cities South of the Sahara:
From the Origins to Colonization. Translated by Mark Baker (Princeton, NJ: Markus
Wiener, 2005).
143
small, mobile bands of fugitives called ajuntamentos, especially in the urban centers of
373
Rio de Janeiro, Lima, Salvador, Havana and Recife.”
In Cape Verde, particularly
Santiago, the situation appears to be similar, if not worse given that the island is only
382.6 square miles, and that there was no significant white population and the forro
population in some islands was greater than the entire white, mestiço, and enslaved
population combined. For instance, in Santiago in 1731, there were a total of 17,709
inhabitants: 390 brankus (whites; 2.2%), 2,519 mestiços (14.22 %), 11,919 forros
(67.3%), and 2,881 slaves (16.28%).
374
In order to manage this volatile situation,
Portugal banned nonmilitary officials from traveling with weapons, fined people who
assisted fugitive slaves, punished both with imprisonment, fined those that assisted in
their escape, and used the Church to assist in capturing fugitive slaves.
On August 12, 1725, the bishop of Cape Verde wrote to the Portuguese
authorities in Lisbon, and the latter contacted Sebastião Bravo Botelho, general auditor of
Cape Verde, on October 17, 1725, to inform him that there would be an appointment of a
priest for each parish of Santiago Island.
375
People who assisted fugitive slaves would
pay a fine of 12,000 réis for each slave or they should return the slave to ecclesiastical
judges so that the runaway slaves could be “publicly whipped in the streets as ordered by
373
374
Gomes, “Africans and Petit Marronage in Rio de Janeiro, ca. 1800–1840,” 75.
Artur Teodoro de Matos, “Santo Antão De Cabo Verde (1724–1732): da ocupação
inglesa à criação do regime municipal. Mutações políticas, recursos económicos e
estruturas sociais,” in A dimensão atlântica da África Reunião Internacional de História
de África. Rio de Janeiro 30 October to 1 November 1996 (São Paulo: CEA/USP,
SDG/Marinha, CAPES, 1997),192
375
SGG, Liv 0001, f.97–97v.
144
the judges.”
376
Moreover, the bishop was concerned with priests that “offended the royal
jurisdiction but also the local hierarchy, particularly as it regards to obeying the royal
decree, which the royal authorities considered as party of the ‘natural and civil rights.’”
A major reason for a slave’s recourse to petite marronage was physical abuse. In
Praia, on February 28, 1771, João Francisco Porto, secretary of the local government,
contended that in Santiago there was “pernicious abuse” of whipping slaves, and that the
working conditions of slaves violated the law.
377
The report said the treatment of the
slaves was “abominable,” and that this caused flight and recommended that “civil society
should return the slaves and excuse or advice” the slaveholders about their maltreatment
of the slaves and shame them. There was no detailed description of the harsh treatment in
the report. Senna Barcelos, however, wrote that in “1718, Teixeira Sarmento accused
Dona Isabel de Barros of chaining her slaves for a long period of time and whipping them
daily. A pregnant slave of Dona Barros was tortured with fire and ember placed on her
378
belly and roasted her until she died.”
The report of February 28, 1771 asserted that
379
the public good “should prevail” rather than providing hideouts for slaves.
Porto, the
general secretary, ordered that all dwellers in Santiago must return fugitive slaves hidden
in their houses and notify the respective slaveholders. The penalty for disobeying this
decree was imprisonment and a fee determined by the slave-owners. The local authorities
376
377
378
SGG, Liv 0001, f.97–97v.
SGG, Liv 0013, f.15–16.
Christiano José de Senna Barcellos, Subsídios para a História de Cabo Verde e
Guiné, 2nd ed., vol. I, parts I and II (Praia, Cape Verde: Instiuto da Biblioteca Nacional e
do Livro, 2003), 414. In f.220, Daniel Pereira note that Barcellos does fully describe the
violence of this attack by not citing correctly the original paragraph, which notes that the
intestines of the pregnant slave were roasted while she was alive (507).
379
SGG, Liv0013, f.15.
145
fined the accomplice 20,000 réis, half of which went to the local government and the rest
to the person who “denounced” the accomplice. Finally, the latter would be exiled to a
deserted island of the archipelago (most likely Santa Luzia or São Vicente). The local
authorities also promised the militia and the junta reward of 12,000 réis for capture of
fugitive slaves.
380
The local administration ordered that the local churches announce
thrice during mass as well as post on the scotia (the deep concave of the church’s
381
column) the notice to apprehend fugitive slaves.
Despite this draconian decree, on
August 7, 1777, the local government in Ribeira Grande deplored that dwellers in
Santiago continued to harbor fugitive slaves, which they argued went against “common
good.”
382
As such, the local administration increased the fine to 20,000 réis to be paid
soley to the government for first time offenders.
The local administration also focused their attention on vadios (vagabonds and
runaway slaves). On September 12, 1774, Governor Salanha Lobo put the military
apparatus on high alert to immediately arrest any “idle vadios” in Santiago that did not
383
work on a farm or were squatting without paying rent.
In addition, Salanha Lobo
ordered military personnel to arrest “pesky” thieves and assailants that were rampant
during this tumultuous period.
It appears that social bandits that robbed and assailed landowners were rampant,
particularly among the forros. On January 9, 1775, Salanha Lobo ordered the colonels,
led by Colonel José Maria Cardozo, to arrest thieves as well as assailants that had formed
380
381
382
383
SGG, Liv0013, f.16.
SGG, Liv0013, f.16.
SGG, Liv0013, f.38v.
SGG, Liv0012, f.91.
146
bands in the interior of Santiago, particularly a group led by Mathias Pereira in the parish
of São Miguel.
384
Salanha Lobo said that Mathias Pereira was a threat to public order
because he murdered, performed serious robberies, and made grave insults. These social
bandits should be arrested and incarcerated, but Lobo enjoined the military not to cause
any deaths. Perhaps this was to prevent them from being glorified as heroes or martyrs by
fellow forros. The colonels were apparently successful in arresting Mathias Pereira and
Lourenço Roiz [Rodrigues], his accomplice, as a report by an ordinary judge of Ribeira
Grande included their arrest for that year in 1775.
385
Besides groups of armed freed slaves and members of the poor causing social
instability, there were individual acts by slaves. In 1775, the authorities noted that many
people committed arson in Santiago.
386
Jzabel, a female slave owned by Colonel Manoel
de Semedo of Ribeira da Barca, set fire to his house, but they imprisoned her and she
died in prison. A slave owned by Colonel Montanha also committed arson; Victoria
Lopes burnt a tailor’s house and she was jailed in Praia; Phellippe Vão, from São
Martinho, on the outskirts of Praia, had his house burnt by an unknown perpetrator. What
emerges is that the arsonists were either female and/or slaves.
Hence, slaves and freed people utilized strategies of flight, manumission, robbery,
and violence (e.g., assault, murder, and arson) to protest and to improve their lot in life.
Violence in the form of armed groups was something that the local administration tried to
control, because those that controlled the instruments of destruction ultimately were the
384
385
386
SGG, Liv0012, f.95.
SGG, Liv0012, f.100v.
SGG, Lv0014, f.141.
147
most powerful and kept the colony together, but intermediaries (e.g., filhos de folhas
[bureaucrats], clerks, judges, Church hierarchy) were important.
To prevent slaves from escaping, Portugal tried to monopolize the weapons
circulating in the islands by passing a law to prevent slaves or the general population
possessing firearms. The authorities also referred to a law of August 13, 1719, that
stipulated that any person accompanied by two slaves on Santiago Island should be
387
unarmed, whether in the city of Ribeira Grande, the town of Praia, or other areas.
On
August 30, 1719, the royal authorities in Lisbon responded to a letter written on April 30,
1719 from the local administration of Ribeira Grande regarding groups of slaves parading
or accompanying their masters with weapons and “committing serious acts with
them.”
388
The slaveholders were in bitter dispute, and the forros tended to take
advantage of the situation. The recommendation was to have thirty to forty garrisoned
soldiers patrolling the street during the day and night. In addition, the decree outlawed
more than two slaves armed to accompany their owners in public. The authorities decried
the public parading of armed black men, which often included people of high status of the
islands participating with their own slaves. Residents were promenading armed with
blunderbusses, swords, assegais, and long knives.
389
In Ribeira Grande, Major Captain
João Nunes Castanho allowed “his blacks” (i.e., slaves)—or rather ordered them—to
387
388
389
SGG, Lv0013, f.33.
SGG, Liv0002, f.136–7.
SGG, Liv0002, f.136. For a discussion of weapons coming into the region, see Mark
and Horta, The Forgotten Diaspora, 103–34; and Hawthorne, Planting Rice and
Harvesting Slaves, 96–98.
148
roam from house to house, farm to farm, etc.
390
It does seems that the social disorder,
pervasiveness of weaponry, and violence during the eighteenth century was not
exaggerated.
Three years later, João Nunes Castanho was still a bothersome figure for the
authorities at Ribeira Grande. On April 9, 1722, João Felles da Silva and Antonio
Rodrigues da Costa, officials in Ribeira Grande, wrote to the royal authorities in Lisbon
391
regarding João Nunes Castanho.
They informed Portugal of the arrest of Castanho and
his confinement at Fortaleza de São Verissímo (Fortress of Real Saint), one of the
392
smaller fortifications in Ribeira Grande.
He had been arrested because he was publicly
parading with his armed slaves, causing a disturbance and commotion as well as breaking
the law. Castanho, however, escaped from prison, and fled to the island of Maio. This
suggests that Castanho had support from elements of the local militia. The Lisbon
authorities demanded that Castanho be taken alive and sent to Portugal to face justice.
On April 6, 1776, the local administration in Ribeira Grande emphasized the
existence of the prohibition of November 5, 1770, regarding the importation of weapons
and explosives, because there was the continued circulation of “offensive weapons,” such
390
391
392
SGG, Liv0002, f.136.
SGG, Liv0002, f.154v.
The main fortification was Forte Real de São Felipe in Ribeira Grande, with seven
smaller fortifications. According to Charles Akibodé, in terms of churches and
fortifications, during the fifteenth and sixteenth century, Ribeira Grande had the most
military and religious institutions per square mile during the early modern, which is after
the late Middle Ages. As noted by Manuel Riebeiro, António Carreira, Daniel Pereira,
and, more recently, Toby Green, Cape Verde was a major geostrategic trading post for
the Portuguese Empire, which had colonies in the Americas, Africa, and Asia. Cape
Verde was an important node connecting these disparate colonies and trading networks.
149
393
as knives, assegais, and manducos.
In the late sixteenth century, Almada noted that
Africans in Upper Guinea used weapons such as short swords, knives, spears, shields,
and clubs called manducos.
394
There were armed bands that assaulted, robbed, killed,
and stole from houses, farms, and in the streets. The authorities worried about armed
bands with knives, assegais, and manducos that threaten “public tranquility.” The
recommendation was for utter vigilance with severe punishments for those found with
these weapons. The local authorities in Ribeira Grande notified the Junta of Justice,
Agriculture, and War to immediately arrest those apprehended with these dangerous
weapons.
To counteract this potential threat, on April 6, 1776, the governor asked the major
sergeant of Ribeira Grande to compile a list of available men from Ribeira Grande and
São João for military service and to submit it to the secretary of governor no later than
May 1776 to assist Major Captain Miguel Barboza in his efforts to control the
situation.
395
The instruction stated that any person above 10 years, but not “decrepit,”
should be counted, which included officials, soldiers (whether retired or discharged), and
all freed slaves that were cattle herders. The colonial administration was desperate for
393
SGG, Lv0013, f.32v. Manduco is defined as a medicinal tree from “Guiné” in the
Portuguese Online dictionary, http://www.priberam.pt/dlpo/default.aspx?pal=manducos.
One can surmise that African-style military fighting was used, given African weapons.
Studies of the Atlantic world have shown that African military tactics were common in
Brazil, Haiti, Cartagena, Cuba etc.; see Hebe Mattos, “‘Black Troops’ and Hierarchies of
Color in the Portuguese Atlantic World: The Case of Henrique Dias and His Black
Regiment,” Luso-Brazilian Review 45, no. 1 (2008): 6–29; John Thornton, “African
dimension of the Stono Rebellion,” American Historical Review 96 (1991): 1101–13;
Thornton, “‘I Am the Subject of the King of Congo’: African Political Ideology and the
Haitian Revolutio,” Journal of World History 4 (1993): 181–214.
394
Almada, Brief Treatise, 78.
395
SGG, Liv0012, f.129.
150
soldiers given the highly violent atmosphere. About sixty years later, Joaquim Pereira
Martinho, governor and military commander of Cape Verde in 1830s, believed that the
soldiers were “depraved, drunks, debauchees and thieves and only were good for robbing
residents as well as indulging in batuques (drumming and dances) with black
396
prostitutes.”
On May 31, 1777, the local authorities in Cape Verde emphasized that residents
were noncompliant with the previous laws that banned the possessing weapons because it
397
risked public safety.
It also reemphasized that people traveling with more than two
slaves should not have these arsenals. Perhaps the fear was that armed bandits would free
the slaves, which would result in acquiring more firepower. Whatever the motives were,
when the authorities arrested these people, some were sent to Upper Guinea.
Portugal began sending exiled convicts (degredados) to Upper Guinea during the
establishment of the colony of Cape Verde. It appears, however, that during the 1700s the
authorities sent more convicts or prisoners to the praças of Upper Guinea to expel
unwanted elements to serve as foot soldiers in a dangerous and precarious environment.
Armed bandits, thieves, and other supposedly dangerous elements were ideal candidates
for Upper Guinea.
In 1778, CGPM ended its slave trade, which resulted in Portugal creating a single
administrative province of Cape Verde and Portuguese Guinea. That placed the governor
of Cape Verde in charge of Portuguese Guinea and the captain majors had to answer to
him. The movements of people, which included the forced migration of slaves, convicts,
396
397
Memória sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Marinho, 93.
SGG, Lv0013, f.37.
151
and goods between the Cape Verde archipelago and Portuguese Guinea, deepened the
political and cultural connection between the two places. The colonial administration in
Cape Verde kept in constant contact with their counterparts in Portuguese Guinea. On
May 10, 1774, Saldanha Lobo wrote to Governor Sebastião da Cunho Souto Mayor of
398
Bissau that Cape Verde would send degradados to serve in his praça.
The praças of
Geba had “rebellious” peoples, with numerous Africans who traded with the English and
the French.
399
Mayor was advised to control the settlement of Geba, because it was far
from Cacheu, but closer to Bissau. Cacheu did not have enough people to send to assist
the Geba settlement. Nevertheless, Geba’s proximity to the town of Farim was causing
problems for the CGPM, particularly by enabling the constant flights of slaves.
400
Lobo
promised that in the next report he would provide the names of the degradados that
Captain António Florenço would send to Portuguese Guinea.
In January 1770, twelve people were exiled to Bissau: Francisco Pereira, age 50,
tailor, sentenced tp ten years; Pedro Rodrigues, age 23, carpenter, sentenced to ten years;
Thomaz Garcia, age 33, tailor, sentenced to ten years; Luís da Silva, age 38, sawyer,
condemned for ten years; José Roiz de Araújo, age 35, locksmith, sentenced for five
years; António Roiz, age 22, brazier, condemned for ten years; José António, age 34,
mason, five years; António Martins, age 30, quarryman, perpetuity in Bissau; José
398
399
400
SGG, Liv0012, f.82.
SGG, Liv0012, f.112.
SGG, Liv0012, f.114–114v.
152
Soares, age 28, mason, life-sentence; Francisco da Costa, age 43, shoemaker, sentenced
to ten years; João Roiz Mofedo, age 43, shoemaker, perpetual exile.
401
On February 29, 1775, the local authorities wrote to Major Sergeant António de
Araujo Castro, ordinary judge of Praia requesting that he submit a report about the
402
prisoners, especially thieves and the worst criminals to be exiled to Guinea.
On May
15, 1775, the secretary of the governor requested that all ordinary judges in Praia
403
promptly submit reports on people in Praia’s jail.
The secretary again emphasized that
the prisoners were “pesky thieves, vagabonds, except criminals who killed, caused arson,
leaders of bands, and people who sell free people as though they were slaves and receive
products for the sale.”
404
The authorities were not always consistent concerning their
criteria in selecting prisoners to be sent to the mainland, but political expediency was the
norm rather than the decrees.
Therefore, convicted exiles also consisted of those who had been charged with
killing people. On July 28, 1775, the royal authorities highlighted the arrest of some
405
people in Cape Verde.
Magdalena Sanches, native of Santiago, with more than two
collaborators, was charged with murdering six people by tricking them, and the
authorities arrested and imprisoned her and her accomplices. Mathias Pereira, a native of
Santiago, led an armed group that attacked residents; his sidekick was his brother,
401
António Carreira, “Os Portuguêses nos Rios de Guiné (1500–1900)” (Lisbon,
Portugal: Author’s edition, 1984), 147; original AHMF-CGPM-XV/R/19.
402
SGG, Liv0012, f.103–103v.
403
404
405
SGG, Liv0012, f.115v.
SGG, Liv0012, f.115v–6.
SGG, Liv0015, f.139–40.
153
Mathias Pereira; Domingos Pereira was their cousin who also was part of the group. The
local militia arrested João Domingo, a native of São Nicolau, because he murdered a
Frenchman, who had been shipwrecked on the island of Santa Luzia, an uninhabited
island, while Domingos was robbing the Frenchman’s commodities. It does not mention
whether or not they were sent to Upper Guinea, but given the fact that prisoners were
often recruited as degredados, perhaps some of them were eventually sent to Portuguese
Guinea.
In July 1775, the commander of Cacheu pleaded with the authorities in Cape
Verde not to send more people because there were not “sufficient guards and food was
lacking.”
406
The commander complained that authorities from Cape Verde sent useless
people who were criminals, who disperse due to not having sufficient provisions in a land
of abundance; he cited Manoel José de Matos who can “prove and testify that people
407
desire to desert.”
In Cape Verde, the local authorities stressed that those on the
mainland must retain the praças of Farim while at war, and the governor of Cape Verde
408
stated that he was confident they would prevail despite the difficulties.
He insisted
that the praças as well as other settlements remain intact, notwithstanding the stiff
competition from well-supplied British and French traders. The praças of Bissau
continued to face fierce African resistance from groups such as Papel and
409
Antieleres/Anteleres in 1795.
406
407
408
409
SGG, Liv0012, f.127.
SGG, Liv0012, f.127.
SGG, Liv0012, f.128.
SGG, Liv0018, f.79–79v.
154
In addition to European rivalry and African resistance, the administration faced
internal problems. For instance, on November 6, 1774, the former administrators,
including the major captain of the Cacheu praças, were involved in a dispute aboard the
ship Chalupa, which had brought the cargo of Bergantim Frances, a merchant. The
administrators and António da Costa Alvarenga, a prominent trader, confiscated the items
and divided them among themselves.
410
Because some of the merchandise belonged to
the royal authorities, they ordered an investigation into this to prevent contrabands,
unruliness, “delinquency,” lawlessness among the Portuguese in Upper Guinea, because
they thought it threatened commercial activities of the Portuguese kingdom.
Thus, the administration in Cape Verde faced challenges of slaves taking flight,
armed groups, drought, famine, contraband trade, and social instability in the praças of
Guiné. There were religious struggles and resistance. The local Catholic Church had
priests that behaved in non-conformity or blasphemously according to Catholic standards,
nor did common folks embrace the orthodox teachings of the Church.
411
Popular Religion in Santiago Island
On July 20, 1701, the Chamber of Ribeira Grande wrote to Lisbon complaining
about the doctrinal requirements and “instructions” of the Catholic faith that the bishop of
410
411
SGG, Liv0012, f.128.
For a discussion about popular religion in African islands, see Arlindo Manuel
Caldeira, “Medo e religião popular na ilha de Ano Bom. Uma aproximação (séculos
XVI–XIX),” paper presented at the Congresso Internacional,”Espaço Atlântico de Antigo
Regime: poderes e sociedaes” (Lisbon, Portugal, November 2–5, 2005);Alain Romaine,
Religion populaire et pastorale créole à I’île Maurice (Paris: Karthala, 2003). Moreover,
there are historiographies of popular religions in Iberian Peninsula and its colonies in the
Americas, such as Laura de Mello e Souza, The Devil and the Land of the Holy Cross:
Witchcraft, Slavery, and Popular Religion in Colonial Brazil, trans. Diane Grosklaus
Whitty (Austin,TX: University of Texas Press, 2003)
155
Cape Verde demanded slaves exhibit to their owners in order to be baptized.
412
The
caveat was that if slaves were not “sufficiently” knowledgeable within six months then
they were prohibited baptism and would not granted freedom. The edicts encouraged
slaveholders to teach their slaves Christian doctrine, but slaves who were unable to learn
or who refused to become Christians should be tolerated as the last recourse. The onus
was on priests to find ways “to conserve their souls.”
413
At the early stages of slavery in
Cape Verde starting in 1460, Green argues that it represented more of the Old World
form of slavery, which was quite flexible, but in the early sixteenth century it became
414
more of an Atlantic type of chattle slavery.
He refers to a case about a slave who was
allowed to accept or reject Christianity. In the above case, the break with the Old World
was never complete in Cape Verde, because this option remained, even during the
415
eighteenth century.
Nevertheless, to implement the proselytizing of Africans, freed or
enslaved, was was not easy of the lack clergymen in the archipelago.
In May 1753, in São Nicolau, for instance, many priests died and replacing them
was slow due to Ribeira Grande receiving the news late.
412
413
414
416
Clergymen faced physical
SGG, Lv0004, f.107v.
SGG, Lv0004, f.108v.
Toby Green, “Building Slavery in the Atlantic World,” 234. Also, the New World
also influenced the Old World, i.e., African domestic forms of slavery was impacted by
the Atlantic form. Actually, Green argues that Walter Rodney was correct in the case of
the Upper Guinea when he argued that the Atlantic slave trade influenced the labor
regimes and dependency systems that region.
415
The “Old” World was never really old but dynamic, always changing—not from
mere imposition, but on its own terms, and Cape Verde became integrated into this part
of the “Old” worlds
416
Luiz de Bivar Guerra, A Sindicância do desembargador Custódio Correia de Matos
às Ilhas de Cabo Verde em 1753 e o regimento que deixou à Ilha de São Nicolau (Lisbon,
156
and financial hardships. In Lisbon, on July 23, 1676, the royal court wrote to Governor
João Cardozo Pissarro of Cape Verde, urging the regular payment of the local Catholic
hierarchy to ensure they could perform their service to God to spread Christianity in the
417
islands as well as the mainland.
Between 1697 and 1701, Bishop Dom Frei Vitoriano
Portuense proposed that slaves be instructed in Christianity and baptized by using African
418
interpreters, just as was being done in Angola.
419
the kings of Bissau.
420
were not successful.
Dom Portuense supposedly converted
The record shows that efforts to baptize these exportable slaves
According to António Carreira and António Correio e Silva,
ladinos (assimilated slaves), who still spoke African languages and Krioulo, instructed
boçales slaves, who were not acquainted with European culture and language.
421
In Cape
Verde and the mainland, these interpreters were known as chalonas. Slaves that were not
Portugal: Stvdia-Revista semester-n.º 2-Julho 1958, Portugal, Centro de Estudos
Históricos Ultramarinos), f.175–180.
417
SGG, Liv 0001, “Ordens das Cortes Copiadas a Mando do Desembargado Sindicante
Custódio Correa de Mattos. Inclui Correspondência c/autoridades Internas e Externas,
Provisões, treslados, Provimentos entre Outros. (N.º-A-42); 1674/Nov-1754; 174/200cópia manuscritas, f.29.
418
SGG, Liv 0001, f.38-38v.
419
As Viagens do bispo D. Frei Vitoriano Portuense à Guiné e a cristianização dos reis
de Bissau, compilado por Avelino Teixeira da Mota. (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de
Investigações Científicas do Ultramar, 1974).
420
SGG, Liv 0002, 1676-1747, “Ordens, bandos, cartas patentes, provisões,
regimentos,” f.5v, f.19, f.22, f.24v, f.27.
421
António Carreira, Cabo Verde, formação e extinção de uma sociedade escravocrata
(1460-1878) (Praia, Cape Verde: Com o patrocínio da Comissão da Comunidade
Económica Europeia para O Instituto Caboverdeano do Livro, 1983), 279–80. António
Correio e Silva, “A sociedade Agrária, Gentes das Àguas: Senhores, Escravos e Forros,”
in História Geral de Cabo Verde, 2nd ed., vol. II, Coordenação de Maria Emília Madeira
Santos, (Lisbon, Portugal: Centro de Estudos de História e Cartografia Antiga, Instituto
de Investigaçào Científica Tropical; Praia: Direcção Geral do Património Cultural de
Cabo Verde, 1991), 310.
157
re-exported to the Americas, Carreira argues had more time for indoctrination and
baptism in the islands. These scholars emphasize that ladinos acculturated the boçales
slaves suggesting a unilateral exchange rather than mutual influence. Because ladinos and
boçales both spoke African languages, there was a reenforcement of cultural and
linguistic ties rather than a Christianization of the boçales. Because these slaves stayed in
Ribeira Grande for six months to a year, ladinos might not have been as effective with
them. Moreover, ladinos were in constant contact with African slaves on the mainland,
which supports the idea of a constant cultural exchange with slaves in Cape Verde and
those being reexported to the Americas. The boçales must have had some influence in the
development of popular religion in Cape Verde, but due to the paucity and fragmentary
nature of the sources, we can only surmise. The snippets allow for some understanding, if
not a general overview. Early in the seventeenth century, Jesuit priests in Cape Verde
rebuked the blacks (and those whites) that consulted a jabacouse (traditional healer).
422
In 1605, Guerreio, one of the Jesuits priests wrote:
One superstition in particular, emanating from the mainland of Guinea,
had [grown] out many roots here [Cape Verde], not only among the black
people, of which there are a very large number, but also among many
whites. This superstitious practice involved the presence here of many
feiticeiros (magicians/witches) and diviners, known here as jabacouces.
Their teaching persuaded the people that when anyone fell sick and was
dying, other feiticeiros, whom they could name, though they did not, were
consuming the person’s body, and extracting his soul and placing it where
they wished; but if they were well paid they would put the soul back
again. When individuals fell sick these were the doctors who offered
cures, by giving them remedies taught by the devil. At times the devil
spoke to them openly, in a voice which bystanders could hear, and he put
422
“The Mission to the Cape Verde Islands and the Mainland of Guinea” (Book 4, Ch.
8), in Jesuit Documents on the Guinea of Cape Verde and the Cape Verde Islands, 1585–
1617: in English translation. Documents assembled by the late Avelino de Teixeira da
Mota and translated by P. E. H. Hair ([Liverpool?]: Issued by the Dept. of History,
University of Liverpool, [1989]), 2.
158
into their heads many other notions of brutish confusion and
423
imbecility.
African-based practices continued into the next century. For instance, on October
15, 1723, a royal letter responded to complaints about processions of the festivals of São
Thiago and São João, and groups of liberated blacks and slaves who would usually
march until they reached the Horta de Larangeira (Orange Orchard).
424
The group
resembled a military formation of governors, lieutenant general, colonels, first sergeants,
first-captains, infantry captains, and other officers. These “officials” marched with
soldiers in all the festivals. The governor allowed a procession in which slaves and freed
people could be armed. Whites also participated in these events by joining them as
spectators. The crown feared potential disturbances and informed the local authorities to
prohibit these types of processions. Barcellos wrote that the “governor of armed blacks,
with his authority, ordered his subordinate in formation.”
425
Slaves were so devoted to
this socioreligious ritual that abandoned service to their slaveholders on that special
occasion and faced the condemnation of their owner. According to Barcellos, these
groups were “barbaric” because the leader of the group ordered his subordinates to
murder residents, which posed a threat to the colony. This might have been more of a fear
than a reality on the part of the elites. The leader of the group called “governor” could
threaten the stability on the days of Saint festivals, particularly those of Saint James (São
Thiago) and Santa Cruz. Barcellos suggested that the procession resembled a paramilitary
423
424
Jesuit Documents on the Guinea of Cape Verde and the Cape Verde Islands, 2.
Christiano Senna Barcellos, Subsidios para a história de Cabo Verde e Guiné, 2nd
ed., vol. I, 426.
425
Barcellos, Subsidios para a história de Cabo Verde e Guiné, 426.
159
force because they paraded on horses and on foot, wearing masks, speaking the Creole
dialect of blacks from Guiné, and shouting incomprehensible phrases. This reference to
their speaking a Creole from Guiné was either to underscore that they were recent arrivals
or that they continued to practice what the authorities considered fetish. The wearing of
masks speaks to similar mask ceremonies practiced by groups, such as Diola, Balanta and
Mandinka, on Upper Guinea, regarding rites of passage, the birth of newborn, marriage,
etc. The descriptions of these processions, during official Saint Festivals, illustrates that
the local authorities were ambivalent about slaves’ participation, because it was
potentially a site of rebellion.
João José Reis shows the ambivalence of the authorities in Brazil toward batuque
426
(African drumming and dance).
Some authorities believed that they should allow
slaves to practice this as a safety vale, but other officials feared that mingling slaves,
freed people, and spectators could create a site in which they could plot rebellion. In
Cape Verde, the local governor might have allowed this cultural manifestation, but
distant Portugal received reports that it was causing too much commotion.
In Cape Verde, officials were ambivalent about other cultural manifestations. On
July 26, 1762, João Vieira de Andrade, the general auditor, wrote to King Dom José
about certain “repugnant” socioreligious manifestations that had already been prohibited:
O da Esteira, O do Reynado, O de foro ou mel.
427
O da Esteira (the mattress), also
known as choru (mourning), was a ritual of mourning the dead, which a mattress was laid
426
João José Reis, “Batuque: African Drumming and Dance,” in Diasporic Africa: A
Reader, ed. Michael Gomez, (New York: New York University Press, 2006), 46.
427
Original AHU, Cabo Verde, Papéis Avulsos, Cx.27, Doc.53. Daniel Pereira, “Alguns
usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago (1762–1772),” in Estudos da História de Cabo Verde
(Praia, Cape Verde: Alfa-Comunições, 2005), 340–3.
160
out for people to sit and receive visitors in the house of the deceased family member.
428
In Santiago, various social groups practiced this ritual, including clergy, officials, and
commoners.
429
The ceremony began the day the person perished. Participants would wail
and speak to the dead, give messages, and write letters to dead relatives to accompany the
430
recently deceased.
In Cape Verde, locals thought that the dead person became part of
the living-dead as part of the spirit or invisible world. In addition, they held a feast in
which they drank and engaged in sexual intercourse between men and women who were
not partners or married to each other.
431
In the late seventeenth century, Almada wrote
that the Beafadas of Rio Grande held funerals accompanied by a large crowd with
432
drumming and soldiers dancing in which they asked the dead who killed them.
In
1696, Dom Frei Vitoriano Portuense, the bishop of Cape Verde, wrote that the Papel
433
wrapped their dead in lots of panu for burial.
The practice of covering the dead with
panu for burial is still done on the island of Santiago. Although this religious belief and
practice had a Guinean core, others were types of cultural convergence of commonalities
found in African and European practices.
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
434
SGG, Liv0013, f.18.
SGG, Liv0013, f.18v.
SGG, Lv0013, f.18.
Pereira, “Alguns usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago,” 337.
Almada, Brief Treatise, 105.
As Viagens do bispo D. Frei Vitoriano Portuense, 108–9.
Matt Schaffer, “Bound to Africa: The Mandinka Legacy in the New World,” History
in Africa 32 (2005): 321–69.
161
Figure 12. Deceased body of Blim Blim, Papel Ruler of Biombo wrapped in panus
for burial, w/d
(Source: As Viagens do Bispo D. Frei Vitoriano Portuguense À Guiné e A Cristianização,
between pages 108 and 109)
435
Figure 13. Esteiradas de Bananeiras de Santiago, w/d
In 1764, Dr João Gomes Ferreira, Cavalry in the Christ Order, judge and general
auditor, noted similar complaints lodged by the former general auditor, João Vieira de
435
Ficheiros de Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde, Praia.
162
Andrade.
436
Ferreira wrote that with the death of his neighbor, Dona Antonia, her family
sent her body on the frigate, Penha de França, in which they wailed for eight days. The
governor of Cape Verde sent his bodyguard along with his son, Ciprião Alvarez, to stop
the wailing. The military contingent guarded the deceased’s house by encircling it. They
accompanied the grieving family to the grave, whereupon water was doused on the
437
deceased as part of the farewell ritual.
This family was one of the elites, but what they
were practicing was deeply rooted in practices from Upper Guinea. It appears that even
the governor tolerated this ritual by providing a military escort and protection for the
family.
As early 1607, there is evidence of choru practice when Father Manuel noted that
the burial of Father Pero Neto on August 13 was a big event. Father Neto was “buried on
438
the bier belonging to the Misericordia.”
The distinguished personalities of Santiago
Island carried him; behind them, the clergy of the chapel accompanied them, followed by
all the fraternities bearing their crosses. This prestigious bunch of elites, religious and
secular, appeared to perform elements of choru, which came from Guinea. Manuel de
Almeida said that the “the weeping of the people when his burial was completed . . . not
only resounded throughout the city but lasted until the night. The loudly-expressed
exclamations of grief were so many.” Thus, it was not only on the mainland that groups
such as tangaumos that were Africanized. This was not creolization as Westernization
that Thornton, Heywood, and Berlin described, but a cross-cultural exchange in which
436
437
438
Pereira, “Alguns usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago,” 340–3.
Pereira, “Alguns usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago,” 343.
Jesuits Documents, ch. 26, 5.
163
the masses retained their Guinean sensibilities and even influenced those in power.
Roquinaldo Ferreira and Mariana Candido describe similar practices in Benguela and
Luanda, respectively, as creolization, but not as Westernization, rather as cross-cultural
exchanges in which Africans and Europeans borrowed cultural elements from one
another in constantly unfolding processes.
439
O de foro ou mel was another socioreligious ritual that shows a cross-cultural
exchange. It was when the Church remembered the dead on Thursday of Ash Wednesday
each year. After going to church, participants returned home to a carnival-like
atmosphere. The male participant gave his wife or partner honey, called foro or mel, and
the female recipients were obligated to have sex, or else a divorce or repudiation would
be forthcoming. It was full of sexual orgy, practiced by all social groups, including
married, single, liberated, slave, sick, or elderly. The transformation of the original
Catholic practice was that mel was a symbolic offering to women, but became dessert
and, rather than the traditional Catholic practice of fasting, participants celebrated by
having an extravagant feast. O foro or mel appears to be a convergence of African and
Catholic practices.
439
Ferreira, Cross-Cultural Exchange, 5–6, 246–8; Candido, An African Slaving Port
and the Atlantic World, 11–12. I prefer to move away from the term “creolization,”
because it has so many definitions, and, in Portuguese, it has a negative connotation.
Some Cape Verdeans argue that people were called crioulos, because they were servants
(criados) of slave-owners, who were usually Europeans. However, today, most Cape
Verdeans refer to themselves, culture, and language as krioulo, which some of them
suggest is a mixture of European and African, or simply call themselves mulatoes. For
debates about Cape Verdean identity, see José Carlos Gomes dos Anjos, Intellectuais,
Literatura e Poder em Cabo Verde: Lutas de Definição da Identidade Nacional (Porto
Alegre, [Brazil]: UFRGS/IFCH; Praia, Cape Verde]: INIPC, 2002); Gabriel Fernandes,
Em busca da nação: notas para uma reinterpretação do Cabo Verde (Florianópolis,
Brazil: Editora da UFSC; Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto da Biblioteca Nacional e do Livro,
2006).
164
Other religious manifestations that were examples of cross-cultural exchange
were brotherhoods that Ferreira described as “the Kings of the Brotherhoods of Piety of
440
Rosary, Deliverance, and Saint Sebastian in which they are given court titles.”
Ferreira contended that from the holy week of Maundy Thursday until Sunday of Easter
participants begged for charity with small images in their hands. They held vigils, ate,
drank, and slept at churches (as well as outside of them) to perform mass and show
devotion to their saints. They raised charity to manumit slaves, which mean that
participants had kinfolks in bondage.
On September 16, 1772, the local administration wrote another letter about
441
outlawed cultural practices, which again included Choru, Zambunos, and Reynado.
Reynado appears to be a sort of cultural convergence. It was a festival of kings and
queens on Sundays and saint’s days.
442
Some African slaves coming to Cape Verde had
traditions of kingship, such as the Bañuns, Brame, Wolof, Mandinka, and Beafadas,
which meant that they instilled this idea into there religious-cultural practices. Without
receiving mass, the participants departed from the church/chapela in a parade with
playing music with drums and accordions the entire day; at night they congregated at
their houses to eat and drink, which infuriated the authorities. The music of these
440
441
Pereira, “Alguns usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago,” 340–3.
SGG, Lv0013, “Bandos e editais Publicados na Ilha de Santiago. 1769/Dezembro–
1778/Setembro;” f.17–18.
442
Some argue that “Tabanka” might have originated from reynado; see Daniel Pereira,
“Alguns usos e costumes da ilha de Santiago (1762–1772)” in Estudos da História de
Cabo Verde (Praia, Cape Verde: Alfa-Comunições, 2005), 338; Wilson Trajano Filho,
“Por Uma Etnografia da Resistência: o caso das tabancas de Cabo Verde”; José Maria
Semedo and Maria R. Turano, Cabo Verde: O Ciclo Ritual das Festividades da Tabanca
(Praia, Cape Verde: Spleen Edições, 1997), 60.
165
processions was probably perceived as “demonic” by the local authorities in Cape Verde,
which caused them to report them to this to Lisbon. For example, suggestive of this
reality in the Portuguese Empire, Rogério Budasz argues that in Brazil, white Portuguese
and Brazilians perceived the music in African religions and the music of black Catholics
443
as indistinguishable.
The Catholic hierarchy believed that they should tame music of
black Catholics to rid it of its “demonic” dimension. At the end of the year, the Reynado
concluded with a mass as well as coronation of blacks by the pastor. Afterwards, the
participants returned to their homes to make an altar for prayer, then engaged in
“excessive” eating and drinking that continued throughout the night. Women congregated
at a house and men visited with rum and copulated with preferred woman. In Santiago,
the authorities feared social disorder with the celebrations of the zambunos, another
festive ritual, which I will discuss later, and Reynado, which participants performed
publicly or inside houses at night.
444
Sweet notes that during the eighteenth century in Portugal a slave believed that
blue and white bead was “truly Cape Verdean Mandingas” to convey the object’s potency
445
and efficacy.
Sansi-Roca also noted that, “In 1700, a Capeverdean slave, Francisco,
443
Rogério Budasz, “Black Guitar-Players and Early African-Iberian Music in Portugal
and Brazil,” Early Music 35, no. 1 (2007): 13.
444
SGG, Lv0013, f.17.
445
Sweet, “Slaves, Convicts, and Exiles: African Travellers in the Portuguese Atlantic
World, 1720-1750,” in Bridging the Early Modern Atlantic World: People, Products, and
Practices on the Move, edited by Carolina A. Williams (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009),
196; originally from Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo, Inqusição de Lisboa,
Coimbra, Processo, No.1630; concerning African religious influence in Portugal, see
Daniela Buono Calainho, “Jambacousses e Gangazambes: feiticeiros Negros em
Portugal,” Afro-Ásia nos. 25–26 (2001): 141–76; Calainho, Metrópole das mandingas:
religiosidade negra e inquisição no Antigo Regime (Lisbon: Garamond, 2000); A. C. de
166
was selling a variety of bolsas (pouches) in Lisbon that protected its owners from fights,
helped to win games and to seduce.”
446
Sansi-Roca claims that the Mandingas bolsas in
the Portuguese Empire came to symbolize “making feitiçaria” (witchcraft that
transcended a particular group). Sweet wrote,
By the early 1700s, the bolsa de mandinga was the most widely used
talisman in the Portuguese-African diaspora and could be found in such
far-flung places as Bahia, Madeira, Luanda, Mazagão, and Goa; most
bolsas consisted of a piece of leather or cloth filled with various
substances—herbs, roots, sticks, rocks, hairs, feathers, animal skins,
447
powders, and relics from the Catholic Church.
In Upper Guinea, the bolsa de mandinga also contained Arabic writing, which coastal
Africans believed to have magical powers.
The zambunos was performed in praças das armas (squares of arms). The
practitioners and spectators would exclaim “Holy Mary from sunset until dawn.”
448
The
punishment for performing this was four months in prison for the first offense; the
punishment for a second offense depended on “the circumstances.”
449
Zambunos appears
to be a type of ritual performed with music and perhaps accompanied with dance or spirit
possession, but we cannot know for sure, because the report lacks details.
Flávio Gomes emphasizes that “the movement of groups of fugitives and petit
marronage in Rio de Janeiro, including suburban parishes . . . also indicate connections
between the spheres of work and slave leisure culture in the urban and semi-urban areas
C. M. Saunders, A Social History of Black Slaves and Freedmen in Portugal, 1441–1555
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982); T. F. Earle and K. J. P. Lowe, eds.,
Black Africans in Renaissance Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).
446
Sansi-Roca, “The Fetish in the Lusophone Atlantic,” 24.
447
448
449
Sweet, “Slaves, Convicts, and Exiles,” 193.
SGG, Lv 0013, f.17v.
SGG, Lv 0013, f.17v-18.
167
of the city with the highest concentration of Africans in the Americas at the dawn of the
450
nineteenth century.”
Perhaps, in addition to being a socioreligious ritual, zambunos
was also a form of leisure to escape the harsh realities of daily life.
Some scholars might argue that these cultural manifestations were a creolization,
a merging of cultures. Perhaps there was a parallel world in which people would cross
boundaries when useful. There was simultaneous borrowing and incorporation of
different cultural practices, but also continuing regional cultural practices from slaves and
their descendants from the Upper Guinea. The sociocultural transformation was not
creolization but the creation of broad Upper Guinea cultural elements within the new
cultural milieu. Hence, Catholicism was never practiced with the orthodox beliefs and
rituals that the Catholic Church advocated. The local Catholic hierarchy was not unified,
despite Portugal’s desire to spread Christianity throughout Cape Verde and the Upper
Guinea coast.
The local hierarchy of the Catholic Church experienced internal disputes and
contestation with secular imperial rule. The Catholic Church excommunicated some
priests. Catholicism in the archipelago itself was, at best, practiced by the few elites,
whereas the rest practiced a popular religion of Guinean-derived practices that at times
were intertwined with Catholic practices. Some might describe this as syncretism or
creolization, but it was rather two parallel universes, sometimes coexisting in harmony
and other times with tension. Internal control and the rivalry with secular imperial
institutions remained a primary concern for the local Catholic Church and local
administration.
450
Flávio Gomes, “Africans and Petit Marronage in Rio de Janeiro, ca. 1800–1840,”
Luso-Brazilian Review 47, no. 2 (2010): 75.
168
On December 6, 1724, Sebastião Bravo Botelho, the general auditor of Cape
Verde, wrote to João Felles das Sylva and Dr. Joseph Gomes de Azevedo, members of
Overseas Council, complaining that the general curate (vigario geral) of the island of
451
Cape Verde had “usurped [the] jurisdiction” of the Overseas Council.
The general
curate convicted Antonio Cabral, who was under the command of Lieutenant General
João de Barros de Souza Bezerra; if the prison term was not obeyed then the
excommunication of soldiers would ensue and that they were obligated to assist the
ecclesiastic officials to apprehend someone.
452
Sylva and Azevedo accused the general
curate of interfering in nonreligious matters because he was confronting a ship captain in
the port of Ribeira Grande. The Council noted that the bishop of Cape Verde would
“recommend” that general curate should be removed from not only Cape Verde, but also
the Portuguese Kingdom if he was found guilty of “usurping” the power of the
Council.
453
The local hierarchy of the Catholic Church was not unified and some
officials of the local church meddled on matters relating to commercial activities.
Perhaps, the general curate was one of those local Church officials that had some
commercial interests, which would most likely have been in the slave trade.
On May 25, 1725, Dom Frey José de Santos Maria, the bishop of Cape Verde,
wrote to Costa and Dr. Azevedo who relayed the bishops’ concern to Sebastião Bravo
about the problems of the most “grave crimes by criminals” within the Church
451
452
453
SGG, Lv0001, f.98–98v.
SGG, Lv0001, f.98.
SGG, Liv0001, f.98–98v.
169
454
hierarchy.
The crimes pertained to killing people and things related to agriculture,
which usually revolved around issues of slaves and farmland. Because they were
prominent within the Church hierarchy; they were not prosecuted, but this portrayed a
depraved Church for Santos Maria. The bishop emphasized that the curate houses were
not for “rogues” and to expel all clergymen involved in criminal activities The Overseas
Council threatened that if the bishop’s request was not implemented, they would enjoin
455
the “arrest of all the criminals in the curate’s house.”
Issues of criminality as well as other social vices manifested as neglect of
religious duties and practices, which the royal court in Lisbon depicted as spiritual
decadence. On January 11, 1744, in Lisbon, Thome Joaquim da Costa Corte Real, a
member of the Overseas Council, noted that the governor’s “little reform, laxity of life of
the people of the islands, principally residents of the island of San Thiago and the
dissolution of respect for secular and divine ecclesiastical laws, scandals and numerous
offenses committed, especially pernicious sins done by high officials, which brings
456
shame and horror, which only facilitated bad examples of Catholic principles.”
Lisbon
ordered the local Church hierarchy to “introduce in the churches spiritual practices at
competent hours and some devotional exercises and penitence led by prudent, spiritual
clergymen.”
457
Costa Corte Real appealed to the governor to provide assistance to the
reverend bishop and Church to mitigate these “abuses and scandals.”
454
455
456
457
SGG, Liv0001, f.98.
SGG, Lv0011, f.98.
SGG, Liv0001, f.88v.
SGG, Liv0001, f.89.
170
Some of these “abuses and scandals” were not only Catholic priests’ participation
in the slave trade, but political intrigues as well as sexual relationships. In Lisbon, on
February 28, 1794, Antonio Gaspar, a member of the Overseas Council, responded to the
petition of Dona Violante Freire de Andrade, the widow of Colonel Manoel Gonçalves de
Carvalho from Santiago Island. The petition was against Father Bonifacio de Santa Rosa
Sabugal, a native from Portugal, accusing him of committing acts contrary to the “good
of religion and the state” in her house.
Carvalho had raised Maria Sabado,
458
459
In Ribeira Grande, Dona Andrade and Colonel
who “was a crioula born in the island into
slavery,” and provided Maria with “political and religious instructions.”
460
This suggests
that Maria was being groomed to fulfill an important position in the household. Dona
Andrade emphasized that Colonel Carvalho had raised Maria as his child, probably to
emphasize that Father Sabugal’s “despicable” act was tantamount to violating their
daughter, rather than a mere slave. Dona Andrade said that accommodations were usually
458
459
SGG, Lv0011, f.150.
According to António Carreira, Sabado (Saturday) signifies that she was most likely
born on that day and that whomever gave her that surname was retaining an Africanderived manner of naming. In the nineteenth century, “Maria Sabado” was a common
name among female slaves and liberated female individuals.
460
SGG, Lv0011, f.150. Although other slaves are referred to as either slaves or blacks
(negros), this particular slave was referred to as crioula, which meant that she was a
domestic slave or servant for the family, rather than one of the black slaves who were
born in Cape Verde; Toby Green argues that crioulo, meaning those born abroad,
originated in the Americas; see The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, 273–6. Green
argues that slaves displaced by the violence of the slave trade came to identify themselves
as Creole; Concerning the different types of violence in Africa, see Sabelo J. NdlvouGatsheni, ‘Logic of Violence in Africa’, Ferguson Centre for African and Asian Studies
Working Paper No. 2, (Open University, February 2011),
www.open.ac.uk/Arts/ferguson-centre/working-papers.
171
provided to priests,
461
which allowed Father Sabugal to have contact with the crioula.
Father Sabugal not only deflowered Maria Sabado, but also continued to secretly enter
the house at night and sleep with Maria, and he impregnated her. Although Maria was 36
years old, Dona Andrade complained that they were living in concubinage, because
Maria was a slave, and therefore a dependent of the household. Maria Sabado was
sneaking to various farmhouses and finally resorting to Colonel João Freire de Andrade’s
(Father Sabugal’s brother) farmhouse, which was “more than six leagues” from the
city
462
of Ribeira Grande. Dona Andrade emphasized this distance because it was not
near enough for her to apprehend her slave. In addition to his rendezvous with her slave,
Father Sabugal stole items from Dona Andrade’s house.
Dona Andrade believed that if she sent Maria Sabado to Maranhão, she would
“terminate the concubinage” (i.e., the relationship).
463
Perhaps because Maria Sabado
was her slave, Dona Andrade thought that she could sell the crioula to ships sailing to
Brazil. With the assistance of Major Sergeant João de Spinola da Veiga e Almada, Dona
464
Andrade sent Maria to Maranhão to “lessen her passion.”
Their conduct was so
“reprehensible” that the governor of Cape Verde wanted to arrest them because Father
Sabugal and Maria had stolen things and killed Domingos Vidal of the convent. Dona
Andrade, however, also realized being almost 70 years old, that Maria Sabado should
return from Maranhão to “succeed” her. Dona Andrade described Father Sabugal as “a
461
462
463
464
SGG, Lv0011, f.151.
SGG, Lv0011, f.151.
SGG, Lv0011, f.151.
SGG, Lv0011, f.151v.
172
465
revolting man, troublemaker of peace, and friends of vices and causing disorder.”
Dona Andrade requested that the authorities punish Father Sabugal, send him to Portugal,
and prohibit him from returning to the islands. Another important case of intimate
relationships between a slave and a priest concerns that of João Pereira Barreto. “In 1772
João Pereira Barreto was born on the island of Santiago out of a relationship between a
466
‘mulatto priest’, and ‘a female slave.’”
During the 1770s and 1780s, João Pereira
Barreto was a clerk in praça of Cacheu. João Pereira Barreto sired the (in)famous
governor of Portuguese Guinea, Honório Pereira Barreto. This was not new, because as
early as 1662, there was a trial of Luís Rodrigues, a Catholic priest of Cape Verdean
origin in Guinea, was accused of engaging in promiscuous activities with Kriston and
467
gentio women.
The accused had already been denounced and condemned for similar
practices on the Island of Santiago and exiled to Farim. His mother was Cape Verdean
and his father was related to the Portuguese nobility. Crispina Peres, a tungumá or free
woman and her family were mentioned in the trial of the “Cape Verdean” priest.
468
This
priest also joined social gatherings that included African rituals ceremonies practiced by
African communities on the coast.
465
466
SGG, Lv0011, f.151v.
Philip J. Havik, Silences and Soundbytes: The Gendered Dynamics of Trade and
Brokerage in the Pre-Colonial Guinea Bissau Region (Munster, Germany: Lit Verlag,
2004), f.396, 207; Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, Guiné, Cx. 21, 17-7-1816 (Lisbon,
Portugal); see Barreto, Memoria Sobre O Estado Actual de Senegambia Portugueza,
1938: 179.
467
Philip Havik, “Walking the Tightrope,” in Bridging the Early Modern Atlantic
World, 181; IANTT, Inquisição de Lisboa, Processo 8626, Luis Rodrigues (1662).
468
Havik, “Walking Tightrope,” 182.
173
Thus, the local Catholic hierarchy was under tremendous duress and did not have
worry about ensuring orthodox practices and beliefs, which perturbed the bishops and the
royal court in Lisbon. The local Catholic hierarchy had limited focus on maintaining
internal control and offering services to the elites, who had a nonchalant attitude towards
religious affairs. In addition, the tension between secular and religious institutions
preoccupied their attention. Portugal’s major challenge was social management and
control of the colony, given the assertiveness of brankus di terra, manumitted slaves
demanding their rights, and constant slave flight. To add to this arduous task, drought and
famine pressured people to sell themselves and unscrupulous profit-seekers engaged in
forcibly selling free people and slaves to competing European rivalries, particularly the
English.
Precarious Control: Famine and Selling Free People
Brooks explains that major droughts and famines in Upper Guinea between 1620
and 1860, coupled with the increased demand for slaves resulted in families selling their
469
relatives, but it is difficult to quantitatively estimate.
In Cape Verde, this was also the
case, along with reports of kidnappings by English slave traffickers. While the current
vogue in the historiography of the Atlantic slave trade argues for African agency,
scholars like Walter Rodney, Boubacar Barry, Walter Hawthorne, and Toby Green
persuasively illustrate that the increase cycle of violence in the Upper Guinea, ignited by
this trade, severely limited African options. Mariana Candido makes a similar argument
for Benguela and Central Africa as a whole. Candido refutes the view that focuses
469
George Brooks, Eurafricans in Western Africa: Commerce, Social Status, Gender,
and Religious Observance from the Sixteenth to the Eighteenth Century (Athens: Ohio
University Press, 2003), 102–3.
174
exclusively on African agency in the enslavement process, and instead shows that the
Portuguese colonization of Benguela was a foothold on the continent rather than just the
coast, and was used as a pretext for waging war in the interior in order to kidnap
Africans.
470
Patrick Manning contends that war and raiding destroyed food crops,
exacerbating the effects of the droughts and famines in West Central Africa.471 Hence, by
contextualizing the droughts and famine in Cape Verde, we can assume that the overuse
of land, particularly for cotton growing, had disastrous consequences. Challenging
António Carreira and others that there was a demise of plantation slavery model in Cape
Verde during the eighteenth century or before, Rudolphe Paul Widmer cogently argues
with detail examples that this only occurred in the mid nineteenth century with the
472
official push toward abolition.
Slaveholders might lose slaves due to drought and
famine, but they would replenish their supply. Although other studies have emphasized
the importance of immigration to the mainland during the fifteenth century and the
abandonment of slaves, the record shows that there were constant efforts to procure more
slaves. I argue that the area of enslavement extended from the mainland to the islands.
In 1702, the royal court informed Dom Antonio Salgado Ambrasio in Cape Verde
that Portuguese ships heading to the port of Cacheu could pay in the form of “wheat,
barley, rye, corn, vegetables, biscuit, sugar cane, cheese, and butter,”
473
which suggests
that the crises started around this period. In 1719, a major famine occurred throughout the
470
471
Candido, An African Slaving Port and the Atlantic World, 145–8.
Patrick Manning, Slavery and African Life: Occidental, Oriental, and African Slave
Trades (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 56–7.
472
Rudolphe Paul Widmer, “Structures coloniales et crises agricoles,” 1.
473
SGG, Lv0001, f.24v–25.
175
archipelago, eventually resulting in famine related-deaths: an astonishingly high 44
474
percent of the population died in 1773.
In 1774 to 1775, the total population decreased
from 50,639 to 28,368, with Santiago the most severely affected, dropping from 24,358
475
to 11,580.
476
In Cape Verde, the affects of the droughts and famine
are well known
and as a result migration has been a central theme, but no studies have focused on forced
477
migration or the selling of people because of famine during the era of the slave trade.
The reexportation of slaves passing through Cape Verde from the mainland must be
distinguished from free people or slaves in Cape Verde kidnapped by voracious locally
based merchants as well as Europeans. Some families sold their children into slavery,
others volunteered themselves, and some even resorted to cannibalism to survive. Passing
ships took advantage of the situation to capture more slaves, rather than venture onto the
mainland for slaves, which could take months as well as the risk of the disease-prone
474
Mark Langworthy and Timothy J. Finan, Waiting for rain: agriculture and ecological
imbalance in Cape Verde (Boulder, CO: Lynne Reinner, 1997), 61; E. F. Moran, “The
Evolution of Cape Verde’s Agriculture,” African Economic History 11: 71.
475
Rudolphe Paul Widmer, “Structures coloniales et crises agricoles,” 11.
476
From “The Future of the Discipline” in the December 2012 issue of Perspectives on
History, “Human Agency in the Anthropocene” Dipesh Chakrabarty employs the concept
anthropocene coined by Eugene F. Stoermer and popularized by Paul Krutzen that the
recent climate change caused by humans will impact thousand of years to come and that
this new phenomenon shows that humans are geophysical force, which has been ignored
in the history of humans, as a single entity rather than the different polities, which is still
important. In African history, human beings causing environmental ruined, which led to
centuries of change is not new. With the Portuguese arrival in Cape Verde, they
destroyed the ecological balance of the ecosystem, which resulted in the desertification of
the islands. In addition, desiccation of the green pasture into North Africa resulting in the
Sahara desert has received scholarly anlaysis in African history as well as the drought and
famine related to rain level with relation to the human dimension to this climatic change.
477
The focus has tended to be on forced migration as contratadores to São Tome.
176
rainy season. Other inhabitants of Cape Verde may have been tricked into being sold (i.e.,
478
kidnapped).
In Africa, European travelers noted the selling or pawning of children due to the
479
famine.
On November 23, 1743, the counselors of the Overseas Council reported that
Francisco de Lima e Mello, major-captain of Santo Antão, and Themothea Sanches,
ecclesiastical bailiff (meirinho do eccleziastico), traded orchil plants and slaves to
English merchants with Conel, an Irish slave trader, who had lived in Santo Antão for
480
some years.
The Overseas Council argued that the slave trade was done with
“infidels,” i.e., non-Catholics. The Portuguese deemed other Europeans “strangers” in
Upper Guinea, because the Portuguese believed it was their domain. The selling of
orchils was done by contract, in which Europeans would ask for a certain amount and it
would be produced.
481
Lima e Mello hired “degraded Catholics to a deserted island,
which was lacking in spiritual guidance and food to collect the orchil, a type of dye, in
which they faced constant risk of death.”
482
The deserted island was probably Santa
Luzia, which is still uninhabited today. The forced laborers picked and collected orchils
478
During the nineteenth century, slaves and fugitive slaves went on board US whaling
ships. Complaint of Gevernor General of Cape Verde to U.S. Consul, July 24, 1835; See,
Letter of F. Gardner to John C. Calhoun, March 20, l845; Letter of William Peixoto to
U.S. Department of State, October 20, 1848; W. H. Morse to Daniel Webster, January 29,
1852, National Archives, Consular Records in Santiago. Information accessed from,
http://www1.umassd.edu/specialprograms/caboverde/whale.html.
479
Paul E Lovejoy and Toyin Falola, Pawnship, slavery, and colonialism in Africa
(Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2003).
480
SGG, Lv0011, “Decretos, Alvará, provisões, cartas patentes e cartas régias.
1769/março/17-1798/ outubro/12. 235 fls; cópias manuscritas;” f.87v.
481
SGG, Lv0011, f.87v.
482
SGG, Lv0011, f.87v.
177
in inaccessible areas to furnish the required quota for Lima e Mello’s administrators who
then traded the collected plants. In previous years, the “harshness of exile” had caused
numerous deaths due to famine, resulting in actual parents “eating their children” and
manumitted slaves from Santo Antão selling their children to Lima e Mello to “mitigate”
483
the situation.
484
Figure 14. Eighteenth Century Dutch Engraving of the Island of Santo Antão
The captain-major sold and exchanged orchil plants with the Portuguese and other
European slavers. The Portuguese authorities urged the necessity of collecting taxes on
this commerce and that the donatario (owners of large land of Santo Antão) ought to pay
485
taxes to the customhouse in Santiago on all commodities exported or imported.
On
November 16, 1743, the Portuguese Crown recommended that the auditor of agriculture
in Ribeira Grande Brava, the main town of São Nicolau, be informed about the situation
so they could send a manager to collect taxes from the guilty parties in Santo Antão. The
manager would also investigate the trading of slaves to foreigners. The Portuguese
483
484
485
SGG, Lv0011, f.87v.
Figure 30 in Cardoso and Soares, “A estação de Salamansa,” 210.
SGG, Lv0011, f.87v.
178
authorities were not concerned with the selling of people, but with the legality of this
contraband and with collecting unpaid trade taxes. A mercantile monopoly was the main
objective of their efforts, and they were concerned with the British Empire meddling in
the internal affairs of a Portuguese colony. English ships constantly visited Boa Vista and
Santo Antão, perhaps, in fact, more often than Portuguese ships.
The local administration took measures to counteract the effects of the famine by
calculating the population so they could distribute adequate quantities of food. On July
28, 1774, Saldanha Lobo wrote a letter to advise the curates of the parishes of Santiago to
486
determine the population of the island.
The next month, Saldanha Lobo urged that
“all the inhabitants” must be counted, including those in semi-urban areas, suburbs,
houses, “huts” (funcos), and households, and including cattle herders, boçal slaves, and
minors. Because the food crisis continued unabated, in December 1774, Saldanha Lobo
requested that all the curates of Santiago Islands announce during mass and to post on the
doors of the churches information about food assistance for those deprived of
487
sustenance.
Saladnha Lobo instructed his secretary to send a report with information
about poor farm owners and slaveholders that owned twelve or fewer slaves would
receive food aid. The list should also include “widowers, secluded women (mulheres
recolhidos), and all the poor.”
488
The local authorities instructed the parishes to
distribute provisions, then the next month to distribute more rations. The needy were
486
487
488
SGG, Lv0012, f.87–88.
SGG, Lv0012, f.93v–95.
SGG, Lv0012, f.94v.
179
given documents as evidence that they lacked money to purchase victuals. Despite this
effort, the selling of free people continued in the archipelago.
In July 1775, in Ribeira Grande, the local authorities charged Manoel Andre
Ramalho and João Remualda, both native of São Nicolau, of selling free people to the
English as though they were slaves.
489
José Roballo de Gamboa, a major sergeant
stationed in Brava, noted that they were arrested in January 1775. On August 7, 1775,
Major Sergeant Gamboa also wrote that a father sold his daughter to an English trader,
and others sold manumitted slaves to the British as well.
490
The authorities also pleaded
an investigate into the departure of local people of Cape Verde with Europeans under
dubious or ambiguous circumstances, which they suspected was kidnapping.
To counteract the selling of individuals, the local administration began to focus on
islands away from the headquarters in Santiago. For instance, in August 1775, José
Cardozo, a warrant officer (ajudante) of Brava and Fogo, mentioned that a ship
(chalupa), the Nossa Senhora da Nasaret, under Captain Fernando Dias, arrived with
1,400 alqueires of corn for Fogo and Brava.
corn for Brava the previous year.
492
491
Dias also arrived with 1,500 alqueires of
In October 1775, a major captain of Fogo wrote to
Ribeira Grande that the locusts had destroyed the seeds in Fogo, resulting in the
population requiring food assistance, which came from Lisbon, but what was sent was
489
SGG, A1(R) A1, Liv0014, “Promocões, cartas patentes (confirmação e petições.
1774/janeiro/26-1778; 99-268; copias manuscritas, f.39.
490
SGG, Lv0015, f.9v.
491
492
SGG, Lv0015, f.7.
SGG, Lv0015, f.9.
180
insufficient for Fogo, Brava, Maio, and Boa Vista.
the famine,
494
493
São Nicolau was also affected by
but the authorities did not respond quickly, which accounted not only for
the selling of free people but acts of cannibalism as well. In November 1775, Fogo
authorities arrested Domingos Antunes, native of Brava, because he sold free people to
an English ship in Fogo.
495
The local authorities also hinted that some people “deserted”
the island of Fogo by sailing with European ships, and those residents were selling free
people.
496
David Barry Gaspar examines the legality of twenty-seven slaves brought to
Antigua in 1724 who claimed they were free people from Cape Verde.
497
The British
slave trader, “Roure explained that he had foolishly entered into some shady dealings
with Father Deogue [Diogo], a priest in the Cape Verde Islands, who agreed to sell him
several blacks, who were clearly saleable as slaves, at a very reasonable price.”
498
On
January 5, 1776, the authorities in Lisbon admonished the major captain of Fogo to stop
493
494
495
496
SGG, Lv0015, f.27v.
SGG, Lv0015, f.29v.
SGG, Lv0015, f.28–28v, f.30.
SGG, Lv0015, f.28v; during the nineteenth century, many Cape Verdeans from Brava
would offer their service to passing American whaling ships. Today, the majority of Cape
Verdean Americans are primarily from Brava and Fogo because of this history.
497
David Barry Gaspar, “‘Subjects to the King of Portugal’: Captivity and Repatriation
in the Atlantic Slave Trade (Antigua 1724),” in The Creation of the British Atlantic
World, 93–114; Similar cases in other parts of the Atlantic see, Roquinaldo Ferreira,
Cross-Cultural Exchange in the Atlantic World, 88; Lyman Johnson, “A Lack of
Legitimate Obedience and Respect: Slaves and Masters in the Courts of Late Colonial
Buenos Aires,” HAHR 87, no. 4 (2007): 631–58; David Wheat, “A Spanish Caribbean
Captivity Narrative: African Sailors and Puritan Slavers, 1635,” in Afro-Latino Voices,
ed. Kathryn McKnight and Leo Garofalo, 195–214.
498
Gaspar, “‘Subjects to the King of Portugal,’” 100.
181
whoever was selling free people, as slaves to other European nations, because the
provisions sent were ample for the population.
499
If true, this suggests that some greedy
individuals to were taking advantage of the situation. On January 5, 1776, Fogo received
6 barris (equivalent of 954 liters) of flour; 1208 algueires of beans (l algueire was onesixtieth of moio); 60 quintaes (or 4 arrobas, equivalent to 60 kilograms) of biscuit, and
120 algueires of corn.
500
Brava Island received 6 barris of fine biscuit, 3 barreias of
flour made in Cape Verde, 20 quintais of biscuits, and 120 alqueires of corn.
501
Violence and flexibility sustained the development of the Atlantic slave trade in
general and colonial Cape Verde in particular. With maroon communities in the interior
of Santiago, the Portuguese Crown offered manumission to mitigate this threat. The rise
of the brankus di terra caused tremendous tension as well as internecine fighting, it
culminated in a delicate balance of power. The social stratification of power prevented
the large fugitive slave communities from having total control of the colony. Moreover, it
does not appear that these maroon communities were interested in obtaining political
power in the archipelago, but sporadically attacked urban centers to eke out a living.
The specter of enslavement was constant in Cape Verde, given its geostrategic
location as well as its chronic drought, famine, and colonial neglect. There are no
statistics to ascertain the percentage of those enslaved via kidnapping or due to famine,
but the accounts discussed in this chapter attest to this phenomenon, which the colonial
government protested as enslavement. For others, there were instances where
499
500
501
SGG, Lv0015, f.36.
SGG, Lv0015, f.33.
SGG, Lv0015, f.33.
182
enslavement appeared to be welcomed rather than perish from hunger. Although some
might have learned to eat rocks or dried food, such as couscous, as reserves for a future
crisis, as famine and drought were called, some also decided to be “eaten” by the Atlantic
slave trade.
183
CHAPTER 4
ENDING SLAVERY IN CAPE VERDE:
MANUMISSION, CRIME, AND PUNISHMENT, 1856–1876
Although manumission in Cape Verde started as early as the late fifth century, the
Junta Protectora dos Escravos e Libertos (Committee for the Protection of Slaves and
Freed Peoples) was a legal apparatus to end slavery in Cape Verde was not established
until 1856. It was a legalistic, gradual process in which local abolitionists seemed almost
502
absent, and the process focused on the remuneration of slaveholders.
Apparently, the
Junta was presided over by powerful men, perhaps mostly brankus (whites) and mestiço
503
(mixed), who possessed slaves, rendering them far from impartial.
502
On September 4,
For the perspective of Portuguese Empire about abolition see, João Pedro Marques,
Sá da Bandeira e of im da escravidão: Vitória da moral, desforra do interesse. (Imprensa
de Ciências Sociais Series. (Lisbon, Portugal: Instituto Ciencias Sociais, 2008); Marques,
The Sounds of Silence, Nineteenth-century Portugal and the Abolition of the slave, trans.
Richard Wall (New York: Berghahn Books, 2006); Seymour Drescher and Pieter C.
Emmer, Who Abolished Slavery? Slave Revolts and Abolitionism. A Debate with João
Pedro Marques (New York: Berghahn Books, 2010); João Filho Lopes, Abolição da
escravatura: subsídios para o estudo (Praia, Cape Verde: Spleen, 2006). For material
specifically relating to Cape Verde, see, Bernardo de Sá Nogueira de Figueiredo, who
spearheaded the gradual abolition of slavery in the Portuguese Empire has places named
after him: a street in Lisbon, a town square of Mindelo has his bust of him, and Angola
has a region named after him.
503
This is not to imply that only whites and mestiços were slavesowners; in early 1600s,
the Jesuit priest Father Barreira noted that “negros” owned slaves in Cape Verde. See,
Antonio Carreira, Notas Sobre O Tráfico Português de Escravos (Lisbon, Portugal:
Universidade Nova de Lisboa, 1983, 2º ed.), 95-96. Carreira argues that people of all
color, white, brown, and black, as well as rich or not-so-well-off owned slave. Even freed
slaves would try to obtain slaves, if possible, because it symbolized high status in Cape
Verde and other cases in Atlantic world (e.g., Brazil). Carreira believes that slavery was
the order of the day, and those that wanted slaves did not consider color a barometer of
difference or identity. However, who became slaves was racialized.
184
504
1857, the Praia City County Administration listed the population of the town of Praia
as the follows: 221 Europeans; 1,302 “indigenous”; and 472 slaves out of 1,995
inhabitants.
505
Figure 15. Three Social Classes in Cape Verde: Slave-Owner, Freed Slave, and
Slave
(Source from the National Archive of Cape Verde.)
Figure 15 shows that the three classes corresponded to three different clothing
styles. The slaveholder, usually of European descent, is dressed in European clothing.
Freed black women and female slave wear some type of panu clothing. Europeans tended
to assume the highest echelons of power in Cape Verde and some were slaveholders.
Thus, the Junta’s descriptions of the stories and complaints must be read with skepticism
without dismissing all the stories, such as the sketches of the plight of slaves, otherwise
504
This would only correspond to the Plateau, which is the main business district area of
Praia today.
505
Boletim Official do Governo Geral a Provincia de Cabo Verde (BOGGCV), Numero
18, 1857, 91.
185
these marginalized people would remain nameless and voiceless in the annals of Cape
506
Verdean history.
The baptismal records, book of slave registry, and the Boletim
Official Governor Geral de Provincia de Cabo Verde (Official Bulletin of the Province
of Cape Verde), and the Junta’s deliberations allows some micro-history and
biographical outlines that help us understand macro-structural developments, which is
new to the study of slavery in Cape Verde.
In this chapter, the focus is on the creation of the Junta and the social
consequences for slaves, freed people, and slaveholders. First, an introduction of the
establishment of the Junta is provided. Second, the chapter explores the issues of the
manumission of minors promulgated by a new law, which required baptismal and
507
godparents to purchase their godchildren’s freedom.
Third, the social effects of the
Junta is interrogated, particularly the issues of manumission, inheritance, and complaints.
Fourth, the chapter examines the issues of crime, punishment, and exile as they related to
slaves, freed people (liberto), and freeborn people. Within the abolition strategy of the
Portuguese Empire, Cape Verde’s strategy for ending slavery was similar to the gradual
and legalistic abolition of slavery in Angola, São Tomé, and other Portuguese possession,
particularly with the omnipresent specter of the British Empire exerting pressure on the
Portuguese Empire to end the slave trade. Moreover, the exiling of “criminals” to Upper
Guinea followed patterns to that of other Portuguese possessions, such as Brazil, São
Tomé, and Angola, as well as Portugal itself.
506
Cláudio Alves Furtado, “Raça, Classe e Etnia Nos Estudos e Em Cabo Verde: As
Marcas do Silêncio,” Afro-Ásia 45 (2012): 143–71.
507
For baptismal and manumission under Portuguese colonial rule, see, José C. Curto,
““As If From A Free Womb”: Baptismal Manumissions in the Conceição Parish, Luanda,
1778–1807,” Portuguese Studies Review 10, no. 1 (2002): 26–57.
186
Creation of the Junta
On March 1, 1856, António Maria Barreiros Arrobas, general governor of Cape
Verde, noted that the Ministry of Trade of Marine and Overseas enacted the Decree of
December 14, 1854, which was to promote the freeing and protection of slaves and freed
508
persons in overseas provinces.
In order to verify the manumission of slaves, the
Decree stipulated that slaveholders must register a title for their slaves.
509
This would
create the only substantial slave census for Cape Verde.
On November 12, 1856, in Praia, Barreiros Arrobas, governor general of Cape
Verde, demanded that “all the authorities” of his government cooperate with the
“solicitations” made by the interim president of the Junta to comply with the Decree.510
As the architect of the Decree, Bernardo de Sá Nogueira de Figueiredo (but commonly
referred to as Sá de Bandeira), in December 1856, reaffirmed that the Junta was created
with special coffers, to apply manumission for infants age 5 (or younger)
along with baptism and payment of 5,000 réis to the slave owner in
compliance with Article 30 of the Decree; help slaves; promote freedom
of slaves; calculate each semester a disposable amount for next the
semester to apply for manumission; they should make semiannual reports
in compliance with Article 44 by providing detailed accounts of cases of
511
manumission.
The state imposed a tax of 200 réis on each freed slave, regardless of age or sex, although
individuals age 50 and older were exempted.
508
509
510
511
512
512
BOGGCV, Numero 185, 1856, 793–4.
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 815.
BOGGCV, Numero 200, Anno 1856, Sexta Feira 14 de Novembro, 919.
BOGGCV, numero 11, 1857, 50–51.
BOGGCV, numero 52, 1869, 302.
187
Another focus of the law was to control the movement of slaves and end internal
slavery in the archipelago. There were a series of decrees December 10, 1836, July 25,
1842, February 21, 1851, and finally, March 17, 1852), which basically stated that
families that owned slaves could travel intra-island, but only with two slaves per family,
and only with the consent of the slave owner.
513
Entering and departing the different
islands, the slaveholder’s family had to provide title of the slaves. In March 1857,
Arrobas notified the local authorities that the ordinance of the Ministry of Marine and
Overseas, no. 44 (March 10, 1857), “prohibited the entry of slaves to the island of São
Vicente,” whether from other islands from Cape Verde or the pontas [estates] of
Portuguese Guinea.”
514
Although slavery and the entry of slaves were prohibited there,
manumission records reveal that slaves were liberated in São Vicente, which meant that
some slaves did enter the island. São Vicente was the last of the inhabited islands to be
settled, beginning in the late 1700s. The justification for barring slavery and entry of
slaves was that São Vicente had been selected to become the new capital and form a new
economy based on supplying coal (and functioning as a telegram center) to passing
European ships, particularly the British. Indeed, Sá de Bandeira renamed the town from
Leopoldina to Mindelo. In the praça of Mindelo, there is a bust in his honor.
513
514
BOGGCV, numero.177, 1855, 746.
BOGGCV, numero.177, 1855, 746.
188
Figure 16. Sá de Bandeira, Praça of Mindelo
(Source: http://www.panoramio.com/photo/8299984)
Enacting these laws, however, would prove difficult, especially in the initial
phase, because making the Junta functional was a gradual process, and the appointments
and nominations of officials became bureaucratic problems. On September 14, 1858 and
July 3, 1860, Pedro Marciano de Freitas Abreu, acting deputy crown attorney and
agriculture, was nominated to be secretary of the Junta.
515
On December 19, 1861,
Carlos Augusto Franco, general governor of Cape Verde, said that Abreu’s first position
was “incompatible” with the other two nominations. In the meantime, Abreu’s
516
replacement was Carlos Augusto.
Even after appointing a presiding officer for the Junta, on December 3, 1863,
Governor Franco proclaimed that the establishment of the Junta was not functional,
515
516
BOGGCV, numero 50, 1861, 229.
He should not be confused with the governor of Cape Verde, Carlos Augusto Franco.
189
517
despite the Decree of 1856.
Franco said that this was a great “public failure” and that
the local administration did not fulfill the mandate of the Royal Decree. Franco said that
the Junta should be operational within two months. In part, the difficulty in implementing
the Decree was due to reluctant officers and noncompliant subjects.
On February 25, 1859, for instance, the administration of the island of Maio noted
that freed slaves resisted providing the mandatory seven years of service. “The
Administration of Municipality of Maio noted that the Ministry of Marine and Overseas
stipulated that freed slaves under Article 29 and the only paragraph of the decree of
December 14, 1854 that slaves who obtained their freedom by the general law charter
must serve mandatory seven years of service in conformity with regulation of October 25,
1853.”
518
There was a clarification of the law and Decree, which stated, “Besides slaves
belonging to the state, and in the provinces, slaves under the custody of the local
chambers/municipalities and charity organization (Misericordias), upon obtaining
freedom, they must also serve the state or corporation.”
519
The corporations were private
entities not controlled by the state, such as properties of slave owners, which included
slaves. Perhaps, these seven years of service or apprenticeship for freed slaves to their
former owners created a dependency and paternalistic relation between the two sides. In
Post-emancipation period, some slaves adopted their master’s surname and remained
517
518
BOGGCV, numero 1, 1864, 1.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, avulso. Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos
Escravos e Libertos, Fevereiro-Dezembro 1857, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias
manuscritos; Praia, Instituto de Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde (AHNCV).
519
BOGGCV, Numero 199, 1856, 910.
190
very close to the family, maybe, due to survival strategies. For instance, Américo C.
Araújo, a native of Fogo recalls:
At the home of my paternal grandfather’s cousins, there was (I am
ashamed to say) a slave who took as his legal name the name of one of my
grandfather’s cousin, Alberto Barbosa Vicente, adding Junior to that
name. His real African name, however, was Colán, and that was what he
was known by in everyday living. Colán lived to be well over one hundred
years old, so that I remember him from when I was a little boy. He must
have been in his nineties, but was very vigorous and still worked as a
butcher in the town’s slaughterhouse. Colán remained close to the family
of his former master, passing on his love for them through generations,
including mine. He always watched over us, and we felt secure when we
knew he was around. He passed on to his own children his love for us. To
this day, they always seek us out whenever we go to Cape Verde, or send
520
us their regards through others.
In Cape Verde, slaves had been manumitted since the 1480s,
521
but there was no
legal framework that adequately addressed the treatment of slaves, freed and the eventual
abolition of slavery. During the nineteenth century, the laws became clearer on slave
522
treatment.
The Decree of 16 January 1837 stipulated that subdelegates of ordinary
judges did not have jurisdiction to rule on matters pertaining to slaves fleeing their master
to abstain from performing their obligations, but issues related to farming was the
520
Américo C. Araújo, Little Known, The European Side of Cape Verde Islands: A
Contribution to the Knowledge of a People (New Bedford, MA: DAC, 2000), 175; also
see 177–8.
521
António Carreira, Cabo Verde: formação e extinção de uma sociedade escravocrata
(1460-1878) (Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto Caboverdeano do Livro, 1983); António
Brásio, História e missiologia: inéditos e esparsos (Luanda, Angola: Instituto de
Investigação Científica de Angola, 1973); Green, “Building Slavery in the Atlantic
World”, 227–45.
522
The British efforts at abolition might have had some influence on this new legal
precision that delineated the process of slaves seeking legal recourse and the
programmatic implementation of abolishing slavery in the Portuguese Empire.
191
523
responsibility of the court judge.
However, with the creation of the Junta, these issues
would eventually be resolved though with slow-pace and favored the slave-owners.
Manumission and Ambivalent Freedom
The Law of July 24 and 25, 1855 declared that children of slave women born in
524
Portuguese overseas possessions were free.
The Ministry of Marine and Oversea
notified the Junta to comply with the law of June 30, 1856, which concerned the
manumission of slaves and children of slave women, by September 1857.
525
Sá de
Bandeira emphasized that it was via baptism and payment that the children of slaves
would be manumitted. The Decree of December 14, 1854, Article 6, title 2 stated that
slaves that “belonged” to churches were also free.
Although Church records show that children of slave mothers were being baptized
before this law was enacted, the incentive was now linked to the mother’s womb, i.e.,
slave child must be age 5 or younger, were eligible for manumission via baptism but with
compensation due to the slave owner. Hence, baptism alone did not mean a slave child
would be released from bondage or repatriated to his or her kin group. The law of
manumission was based on remunerating the slaveholder. The local Church and the State
continued to collaborate, just like when both sanctioned slavery, and now they were
working together to abolish slavery. At the beginning of colonization of the Cape Verde
with Catholicism as the official state religion, baptism meant becoming part of a new
community with a new identity (i.e., African slaves were christened with a Christian
523
524
525
BOGGCV, numero.204, 1856, 945.
BOGGCV, numero 203, 1856, 939.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, avulso.
192
526
name).
Now, it was being used as moral rhetoric to end their enslavement and create a
new bourgeois colonial order.
The important people in the baptismal records were the godparents, who usually
provided payment for the manumission. The notion of kinship as relates to godparents in
these baptismal acts is not straightforward, but the godparents’ significance becomes
apparent as some names reappear in baptismal manumission cases. Although there is a
clear Catholic dimension, godparents were not seen exclusively from Catholic
perspective, but rather in terms of fostership and kinship groups that were common in
Upper Guinea. In the secular realm, godparents served as part of a social network, and
cemented social bonding and mutual aid. Thus, the following stories of slave children’s
baptism represent the new initiative of abolition of slavery in Cape Verde with
godparents playing a decisive role.
The Church was an important institution in ending slavery in Cape Verde and
propagating the ideal identity of the masses. In January 1853, in the Nossa Senhora da
Graça (Our Lady of Grace) Church in Praia, M.
528
Xavier, had a baby boy named Joaquim.
527
Carmo, a female slave of Gregorio
On April 3, 1853, Joaquim was baptized and
his godparents, Francisco João Pereira and Antonia Gonçalvez Pereira, paid 10,000 réis
for his “freedom [liberdade] and manumission [alforio].” The sum was twice the amount
526
António Correia e Silva, “A sociedade Agrária, Gentes das Àguas: Senhores,
Escravos e Forros,” in História Geral de Cabo Verde, 2nd ed., vol. II. Coordenação, Luís
de Albuqerque and Maria Emília Madeira Santos (Lisbon, Portugal: Cenro de Estudos de
História e Cartografia Antiga, Instituto de Investigação Científica Tropical; Praia:
Direcção Geral do Património Cultural de Cabo Verde, 1991), 313.
527
This is most likely Maria.
528
Cx. Nº.1, Peça N.º2, Conservatória dos Registos Centrais, 3.
193
for the prescribed manumission of children; however, this was before the creation of the
Junta. Perhaps liberdade was to remove the mandatory apprenticeship and alforio
included mandatory service.
Some cases demonstrate baptism of slave child linked to manumission without
providing any details about compensation, but clearly identified the godparents as an
indication of compensation. In the Lady of Our Grace Church in Praia, on April 16, 1856,
Olimpia, slave of Gilberto da Silva, baptized her daughter Bernandina, who was born in
1855.
529
With the agreement of the slave owner, the godparents, Bernando Jozé da Silva
and Theresa Cacilda Medina “freed” Bernandina, but it does not state the amount paid.
For instance, on February 14, 1856, Domingas de Affonseca, slave of Marcelino Antonio
do Affonceca, gave birth to a boy named Valentin.
530
In February 1856, his godparents,
Valentin Tavares Correia and Maria Jozé Ferreira, baptized him, enabling his
manumission. Perhaps the mother named her son after the godfather. In a similar case in
March 1856, Jusana, slave of Antoni Francisco Costa, gave birth to Luisa.
531
In June
1856, his godparents, João Cabral Franco and Guiomas Leopodina Abreu, baptized
Luisa, resulting in his manumission. However, the Junta also made payment: the law
stipulated that if the godparents could not remunerate the slaveholders, the Junta would.
Although some slave owners did grant freedom without payment, baptismal records
indicate that compensation was the most common path towards “freedom.”
529
530
531
Cx. Nº.1, Peça N.º2, Conservatória dos Registos Centrais, 37.
Cx. Nº.1, Peça N.º2, Conservatória dos Registos Centrais, 35.
Cx. Nº.1, Peça N.º2, Conservatória dos Registos Centrais, 37.
194
Other cases were implicit about payment by either godparents or the Junta by
noting that slave children were manumitted in “accordance to the law.” i.e., baptism and
remuneration. On January 19, 1857, in the same church in Praia, Isabel, slave of
Henrique José d’ Oliveira, baptized her daughter Mariana.
532
The baptismal record stated
that the child was freed in accordance with the law, which meant that her godparents,
Antonio Diogo and Maria das Dores Nascimento d’Oliveira, both natives of Portugal,
paid the required amount.
533
Also in 1857, Lourenço Antonio de Lima and Henriqueta
Pereira da Fonseca freed their goddaughter, Elena, a daughter of Arcangela who was a
slave of Valentim Tavares Corrêa, in the same manner via baptism.
534
Another example
is from May 15, 1857: Maria Fonseca, who was a slave, gave birth to Amelia and with
baptism on July 26, 1857, her baby was “freed in accordance with the law” by her
godparents Jozé Joaquim and Rita Gomes.
535
Other cases illustrate that godparents paid for manumission because local
authorities received a receipt for the transaction. For instance, in January 1859,
Domingas, a slave of Luis Antonio Fortes, gave birth to Paulo, whom she baptized in
May 1859 at the church in Praia.
536
That the “receipt” of payment presented to Luis
Antonio Fortes by Luis Mendes Lopes in accordance with the law testified to Paulo’s
532
533
534
535
536
Cx. N.1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.46.
Cx. N.1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.46.
Cx. N. 1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.48.
Cx. N. 1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.55.
Cx. N. 1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.76.
195
537
manumission.
His godparents, Pilinio Mendes and Maria Mendes Lopes, who were
both from Praia, paid 5,000 réis, the amount stipulated by law. In addition, in July 1861,
Maria de Conceição, a slave of Pedro Luiz Cordeiro, had a baby girl named Henriqueta,
and her godparents, Antonio João Menezes and Maria Purgueira de Jezus, paid Cordeiro
5,000 réis with baptism to manumit her in January 1862.
538
In September 1862, Maria Felicidade, a slave of Major Crato, gave birth to
Carolina, who was baptized. Crato received 5,000 réis, and Carolina was freed in October
1862.
539
Major Jozé Xavier Crato was a prominent member of the military and a
slaveholder, which I will discuss below (and in the next chapter). In May 1869, Major
Crato freed some of his other slaves, but the document does not indicate who
remuneration, if any, for Francisco, Francisco dos Santos, Marçallo, Policarpo, Luiz
Antonio, Joaquim Pedro, Theodoro, Caetano, Felicidade, Antonia, Joanna, Violante,
Lucio, and Eugenia.
540
Other acts of manumission did indicate any godparents, compensation, or
reference to “the law,” which suggests that slave owners granted manumission on their
own volition, but this was the most unlikely path towards ‘freedom.’ In May 1858,
541
Banlha/Ganlla, a slave of Manoel Saches Freire, gave birth to a boy, Christened José.
537
538
539
540
541
Cx. N. 1, Peça N. 2, Livro de 1855, f.76.
Cx. Nº. 1, Peça N.º 2, Livro de 1855, f.130.
Cx. Nº. 1, Peça N.º 2, Livro de 1855, f.145.
BOGGCV, Numero 38, 1869, 226.
Cx. Nº. 1, Peça N.º2, Livro de 1855, f.66.
196
542
In June 1858, José was “freed in the act of baptism with the consent of his owner.”
Likewise, in May 1862, Maria da Graça, slave of Luis João Pinto, gave birth to Eugenia.
By receiving a baptism in August 1862, her slave owner manumitted Eugenia.
543
Neither
case acknowledged any godparents or reference to “the law.” Unless the Junta
recompensed the slaveholders, the latter gratuitously freed their slaves.
Table 1. Slave Children Recorded in the County Administration of the City of Praia
of Santiago, March 1–30, 1863
Number
Of Slave
Holders
70
Number
of
Register
ed Freed
Persons
126
Male
Female
Amount of
Emolument
for each
slave
Observations
65
61
500 réis
Amount
Retained by
the Junta:
31,500 réis
(Source: Boletim Official do Governo Geral da Provincia de Cabo-Verde, N. º 14, 1863,
76.)
“Freedom” was an ambivalent notion, because manumission did not mean the
end of service to the owner or the state. In the Atlantic world, it was usually an
apprenticeship of seven years, which was to inculcate the bourgeois notion of work and
citizenry, because freed slaves tended to work for self-sustenance. The meaning of
citizenship and freedom was still tied to religion, race, class, and social origin. In January
1863, the Junta stated that it should use the money in its coffers to free slaves, because
slaves were petitioning for assistance on a daily basis, but the Junta also was cognizant of
542
543
Cx. Nº. 1, Peça N.º2, Livro de 1855, f.66.
Cx. Nº. 1, Peça N.º2, Livro de 1855, f.145.
197
544
its budgetary limitation in order to have money for other expenses.
Privately owned
slaves could purchase their freedom, but state-owned slave were automatically
manumitted. Freed slaves carried a carta de liberdade (freedom letter) to prove their new
status. Conflict and tension ensued due to price dispute for manumission and when
libertos, freed slaves, had to perform the mandatory seven years of service. Slaves also
filed petitions about harsh treatment and refused to do work, and slaves attempted to
benefit from the new legislations by interpreting the new laws to their advantage. Finally,
the government also emancipated some slaves when the Junta and individual efforts were
not enough, particularly regarding special cases.
In March 1859, the Junta demonstrated the difficulty in complying with the
Ordinance of the Ministry of Marine and Oversea (Ministerio da Marinha e Ultramar).
The case involved ten freed slaves that were to serve as sailors (marinheiroz d’ Armada)
under the commander of the Sado War Brig (Commandante do Brigue de Guerra
545
Sado).
In accordance with Article 29 of the Decree of December 14, 1854, the local
administrator of the island of Maio (Concelho de Maio) stipulated that the freed slaves
546
should follow this order. In Maio, Manoel Loff, a liberto,
pulled out a knife and
demanded his freedom rather than becoming a sailor. The local authorities of Maio
deemed Manoel Loff’s reaction as menace to the social harmony of the island and
544
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos
e Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Janeiro-Outubro 1865, 3 peças; originais e cópias
manuscritos.
545
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, avulso; about African slave sailors, see, Mariana P. Candido,
“Different Slave Journeys: Enslaved African Seamen on Board of Portuguese Ships,
c.1760–1820s,” Slavery and Abolition 31, no. 3(2010): 395–409.
546
Those freed had to provide seven years of service.
198
submitted a petition to the Junta. Libertos contested this type of freedom, which was an
apprenticeship. The local authorities of Maio sent Manoel to Praia, the capital, on the
schooner Abelha for deliberation by the Junta, claiming that his act disturbed “public
tranquility.”
In May 1858, the reverend bishop of Cape Verde presided over a complaint by
Pedro Semedo Cardozo that his liberto, Antonio, “refused to work.”
547
The Junta stated
that libertos might be reluctant to work, but that the law obligated them for continued
service. Once manumitted, libertos were sometimes sent to another island to complete
their service. For instance, in 1868, the Junta mentioned that some freed slaves were sent
548
to Sal, which included Cecilio, a liberto of Pedro Semedo Cardozo.
The colonial government implemented “public works” by conscripting members
of the lower classes. In July 1864, on Maio Island, the colonial state used slaves for
549
“public works” because their owners could not sustain them during the “crisis,”
i.e.,
the chronic drought and famine in the archipelago. However, 156 slaves were “excluded”
from this work, because former slaves “complained” that their slave owners abandoned
them anticipating the rainy season (as aguas).
550
The Junta emphasized the potential for
547
SGG, C. N.º576, P-05, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos, Junho-Dezembro 1858, 5 peças (avulso); originais e cópias manuscritos;
AHNCV.
548
SGG, Cx.576, P-12, avulso.
549
550
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-08.
In Kabuverdianu, as aguas not only means “rains” but the time of planting and
connotes hope and inspiration, because with rain there is opportunity and the possibility
for reaping the harvest and, therefore, an abundance of food. The chronic drought, which
has historically led to famines, created a certain type of fatalistic and perhaps nihilistic
attitude. Perhaps, as aguas is its counterpart.
199
“robbery” by and of depraved slaves. Given the owner’s negligence for food provisions
during famine, slaves rebelled by using violence to survive.
The Junta’s greatest complaints concerned disputes over the price of
manumission, because slaves were anxious to take advantage of the law to quickly secure
their freedom. Lucas Augusto, a slave of Libania Amarante Augusto, exemplifies the
struggle for adequate compensation. In December 1864, the Junta considered Lucas
Augusto’s petition regarding the price of his manumission. Libania requested 20,000 réis
551
for freeing Lucas, who apparently found this too expensive.
The Junta resolved the
quarrel, but as a liberto he still had to agree to the seven years of mandatory service to his
former owner. From Praia, the Junta sent Lucas Augusto to Sal.
552
Perhaps the Junta
paid for the remaining amount, and Lucas worked in Sal collecting salt, which was one of
the main exports of that island. There were several prominent slaveholders that had a
significant number of slaves and there were disputes over price, and I will provide details
about these cases.
In São Nicolau Tolentino Parish, part of Praia County in Santiago, Dona Maria de
Santa Frederico was a prominent woman and slaveholder. In the Lusophone Atlantic
world, people used the title dona to indicate respect for women of high status. Dona
Frederico had at least twenty-one slaves. In a baptismal record of São Nicolau Tolentino,
551
552
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09.
SGG, Cx.576, P-12, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da provinica de Cabo verde, Janeiro-Dezembro 1868, 8 peças, f.6; originais e
cópias manuscritos. AHN, Praia.
200
it notes that she was “the fourth in filiations of all the parish.”
553
Perhaps Dona Frederico
was a Church enthusiast, but she was also very concerned with the material goods of life.
In December 1868, the Junta had a hearing concerning a petition made by Paulo,
a slave of Dona Maria de Santa Frederico, in a dispute regarding the price for
554
manumission.
Eduardo José Rodrigues Fernandes, secretary of the Junta, who owned
at least two slaves,
555
had written to the judge of São Nicolau Tolentino Parish (Maria de
Santa Frederico’s residency at Agoa de Gato fell under that jurisdiction) to uphold or
dismiss the amount of 40,000 réis, which the Junta deemed fair.
556
In 1868, in São
Nicolau Tolentino Parish, Joaquim Pereira de Carvalho was the justice of the peace (juiz
de paz) and José Antonio Frederico and Francisco de Barros Souza were the
substitutes.
557
The judge that Fernandes wrote to was probably Carvalho. At any rate,
Paulo had paid 30,060 réis for his freedom, but the slave curator explained that his owner
558
demanded 80,000 réis.
In December 1868, the Junta said that the price was
“excessive”; the local judge of São Nicolau Tolentino and Junta finally agreed to a
559
“maximum” price of 40,000.
Dona Maria de Santa Frederico consented to the new
price, prompting the Junta to demand that Paulo give the remaining balance of 9,940 réis.
At the end of the deliberations, the Junta recommended that the governor uphold the
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
Caixa n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia,156.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.9.
BOGGCV, Numero 38, 1869, 226.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.11.
BOGGCV, Numero 48, 1868, 202.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.9
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, avulso.
201
decision rather than “nullify” it, and they extolled the slave owners because Dona
560
Federico acquiesced to the ruling.
Dona Frederico’s female slaves, Marcella,
Frere,
563
561
Carlota Frederico,
562
and Cecilia
had children. Despite the fact that the children had been baptized, there are no
indications that Dona Frederico emancipated them. In October 1854, Marcella gave birth
to twins, Luis and Maria.
564
In January 1855, Marcella baptized her twins. Their
godfather was Luis João de Carvalho, a resident of Penda, and the twins had two
godmothers, Maria Claudio Semedo, a resident of Tamosisra, and Luduvina Lopes, a
resident of Pinha. The document does not explain the reason behind the selection of two
godmothers but only one godfather. The baptism of the twins in 1855 occurred before the
Law of the Womb of 1856.
Even with the enactment of the Law of the Womb, the children of Dona
Frederico’s female slaves remained in slavery. In May 1864, her slave, Carlota Frederico,
had a baby girl, Maria. In May 1864, Carlota baptized her daughter with the assistance of
her godfather, Ijedoro Rodrigues, and her godmother, Maria Rosa Gomes; both were
from São Nicolau Tolentino and native to the island of Santiago. Again, there was no
manumission. In February 1868, Cecilia Frere gave birth to a boy, Nicolau. In April
1868, Cecilia Frere baptized Nicolau; again, the child remained in bondage. However, in
560
561
562
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.10.
Caixa n.23, peça 1, Registo Civil da Praia, 98.
Caixa n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de S.
Nicolau Tolentino, 08 de Setembro de 1858 a 20 de Março de 1870, 90.
563
Caixa n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, 156.
564
Caixa n.23, peça 1, Registo Civil da Praia, 98.
202
May 1869, Dona Frederico liberated the following slaves: Felicianno, Adrianno,
Agostinho, Guilherme, Serafim, Cezar, Augusto, Anastacia, Jezuina, Julia, Maria
Guilhermina, Luiza, Joanna Ribeiro, José, Virginia, Catharina, Gloria, and Marcella.
565
It is most likely that Marcella was the mother of Luis and Maria.
Pedro Semedo Cardozo was slave-owner and a resident of Colegio in São Nicolau
566
Tolentino Parish.
There was a João Jose Semedo Cardozo, resident of Colegio, who
was most likely his relative.
567
The slave census of 1856 indicated that Pedro Semedo
Cardozo owned twenty-seven slaves. With the addition of Felizberta, he owned twenty568
eight,
565
566
which was quite high for the Cape Verdean context.
BOGGCV, Numero 38, 1869, 227. The document is silent about restitution.
Caixa N.º 23, peça 02, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de
S. Nicolau Tolentino, 08 de Setembro de 1858 a 20 de Março de 1870, 200 Folhas.
Originais Manuscritos, folha 178 verso.
567
Caixa N.º 23, peça 02, Registo Civil da Praia, f.117.
568
Hence, twelve of the slaves were from Guiné.
203
Table 2. Pedro Semedo Cardozo’s Slaves’ Background
Name
Mathias
Born
Guiné
Age
40
Dionizio
Pedro
Francisco
Noberto
Candido
Cezilo
Jozé
Thomas
Ambrozio
Claudino
Nicolau
Felipa
Violante
Jezufina
Luiza
Camila
Theodora
Maria da
Conceição
Constança
Gregoria
Thereza
Joaquina
Francisca Nº 1
Francisca Nº 2
Marcelina
Roza
Guiné
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
Guiné
São Tiago
Guiné
Guiné
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
Guiné
São Tiago
São Tiago
Guiné
40
41
21
46
24
20
74
3
2
Five months
47
31
21
24
18
15
47
São Tiago
São Tiago
São Tiago
Guiné
Guiné
Guiné
Guiné
Guiné
26
28
22
34
34
32
10
36
Skin Color
569
preto
fula
fula
fula
fula
fula
fula
fula
Occupation
farmer
farmer
farmer
carpenter
farmer
pastoralist
farmer
preto
preto
mulata
preta
preta
preta
preta
preta
fula
preta
preta
preta
preta
preta
preta
preta
The census indicated that Roza paid 30,000 réis for her manumission on July 4,
1867.
570
However, the road to manumission for Roza was a decade-long legal battle. In
1857, when Metheuz Severino de Avellar was curator of slaves and libertos, he noted that
569
In general, there was a three-color code system in the slave census: preta (black),
mulata (light-skin), and fula (brown). The Portuguese believed that some ethnic Fula
were not “jet black,” whereas slaves, whether born in Cape Verde or from Upper Guinea,
were sometimes described as cor fula (fula color).
570
SGG\F2.2\Lv0863, folha 11 frente (f)-f.14v.
204
Roza, a slave owned by Pedro Semedo Cardozo, went to Avellar’s house and gave him
20,000 réis in the presence of Thomas da Costa Ribeiro and Evaristo António Ramos de
Figueiredo
571
572
to buy her freedom.
Avellar wrote to Cardozo inquiring about the price
that Cardozo required for Roza’s freedom.
About ten years later, in July 1867, the Junta was considering the circumstances
of this case, because the amount given to the former curator of slaves was a matter of
contention. Avellar testified that he delivered 20,000 réis to Cardozo; Roza stated that
she had given 90,000 réis to Avellar. Evaristo António Ramos de Figueiredo allegedly
received “a certain amount” from Roza. Cardozo claimed to have kept 20,000 réis for
manumission. Roza paid more to Evaristo, who transferred the money to her slave owner,
but Cardozo said that 5,006 réis remained for Roza’s emancipation. It is difficult to
discern the truth, but after ten years, Roza was insisted on her position, despite facing
very powerful men. If she was fabricating the story, she was quite courageous.
Pedro Semedo Cardozo’s female slaves had children. The mothers baptized their
children, yet Cardozo did not manumit them, which implies that he demanded
indemnification. For example, Cardozo’s female slave Francisca Semedo had a baby boy,
Anibal.
571
572
573
574
In October 1858, Anibal’s godparents, Thomas da Costa Ribeiro
and
These two men must have been of high social standing in Praia.
SGG, Cx.576, P-011, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Incl. regulamento da Junta Dezembro 1866–
Setembro 1867, 7 peças; originais e cópias manuscritos.
573
Caixa, n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de S.
Nicolau Tolentino, 08 de Setembro de 1858 a 20 de Março de 1870, f1. Originais
Manuscritos.
574
This must be the same Thomas da Costa Ribeiro who was present when Roza, a slave
of Pedro Semedo Cardozo, paid Avellar for her freedom.
205
Henriqueta Leopoldin de Mendonça, both from Colegio and natives of Santiago, baptized
her at the São Nicolau Tolentino Church, yet without obtaining freedom.
In a baptismal record, Maria Joaquina was listed as a native of Guiné and a
“servant of Pedro Cardoso.”
575
In January 1868, Maria gave birth to a baby boy,
576
Sebastino, described as being born a slave.
In June 1868, in the São Nicolau Tolentino
Church, Father Pedro Rodrigues Tavares baptized Sebastino. “The godparents were José
Bernardo Rodrigues, a farmer, resident of Fegueira Branca and Roza Maria Tavares,” a
577
slave of Father Tavares, a resident of Colegio, both natives of Guinea.
Maria Joaquina gave birth to a baby girl.
578
In July 1870,
Joaquina, however, was listed as resident of
São Felippe and liberto of Pedro Semedo Cardozo. With her “freedom,” she no longer
lived in Colegio with her master. Presumably she still worked from him, but preferred to
live in a different place. In July 1870, in Our Lady of Grace Church in Praia, Father
Simeão Gomes Correa, baptized and christened the baby girl as Maria. The godfather was
João Tavares and the godmother was Joanna Maria; both were single and farmers.
Finally, in December 1868, Felizberta, a female slave of Semedo Cardozo, had a
579
baby boy.
In February 1869, the boy was christened Januario. His godparents were
Lucio Lopes and Archangela Lopes, both single and residents of Colegio. Once again,
575
576
577
Caixa, n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, 161v.
Caixa, n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, 161v.
Caixa, n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, 161v. The mother and the godparents of
Sebastino were from Guiné. Perhaps this was similar to what Walter Hawthorne argues,
i.e., that Upper Guinean slaves in Maranhão married slaves from their region rather than
marrying strictly from their own ethnic groups; see, Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil,
179–81.
578
Caixa, n.1, peça 2, Livro No.3, Registo Civil da Praia, 77.
579
Caixa, n.23, peça 2, Registo Civil da Praia, 178v.
206
Cardozo did not grant manumission. As one can see, for most slaveholders compensation
was essential for manumission.
Slaves also tried to manipulate the new laws in their interest. For instance, the
Junta wrote that,
The slaves are indolent by nature, and the laws are incomprehensible to
them; they understand that they have legal protection, and they assume
they should not work for their owners and that slave owner cannot obligate
them to work, because they will not obey the owners, which results in
disobedience. The owners punishes them, but slaves argued that the laws
580
prohibit them being physically punished.
The Junta emphasized that slaves should be protected in conformity with the new law,
but they should also be punished when they commit a crime. According to the Junta, “in
Angola, S. Thome and other Portuguese possessions, where there is still slavery, they are
corporally punished, in accordance to the crime they committed.”
581
The Junta
articulated religious and moral parameters to restrict any severe physical punishment in
according with with Decree of December 16, 1854.
Besides issues of money, the Junta received complaints from slaves and other
entities. In Praia, on April 9, 1859, Thereza, a slave owned by Maria da Conceição, filed
a complaint with the governor general counsel (Conselheiro Governador Geral) that
Maria “maltreated” her by inflicting injuries. Subsequently, the case was sent to the
Junta. Maria claimed that Thereza “slowly” inflicted injuries to her hands and feet with
580
581
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09.
207
the sole purpose of not doing work.
582
Maria da Conçeião allegedly claimed that her
neighbor Maria Ignocencia witnessed this and notified another neighbor, José Sanches.
Apparently, a person named Barbara also “testified” that Thereza “was not touched and
not even threaten[ed].” Maria Ignocencia confirmed Maria da Conçeião’s statement.
When the Junta interrogated Thereza, she confessed to the falseness of her complaint.
The Junta said that this black woman “was so perverse” that she stole 600,000
réis from her owner’s money hidden in a tin can on top of a table a few days later.
583
She
fled to the backyard of the house with the tin can, cracked it open, and stole and hid the
money. Apparently, Maria da Conçeião confronted her, but Thereza did not confess. Her
owner found most of the money buried but Thereza adamantly denied any guilt. The rest
of the money was found with a third person. The Junta recommended an adequate
punishment. The punishment might have been corporeal or some jail time, which was
common for individuals convicted of crimes.
The Junta also heard cases about the legality of the enslavement of some slaves.
On May 3, 1862, in Praia, the Junta began deliberating the legal status of Domingos, a
slave of Agostinho José Rodriguez, resident of Santiago.
584
They made their decision on
May 8, 1862. The Junta noted that the secretary of the general governor had not
registered Domingos. Domingos was a native of Bissau, but was not counted by customs
582
SGG, C. N.º576, P-06, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da provincia de Cabo Verde, Março-Junho 1859, 6 peças (avulso); originais e
cópias manuscritos; AHNCV.
583
SGG, C. N.º576, P-06.
584
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-04, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos
e Libertos, Fevereiro–Dezembro 1857, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias manuscritos
AHNCV.
208
585
when he entered Cape Verde with Lieutenant Colonel Aloves da [Piola Deziasasky].
586
Domingos came from Bissau in 1845 on the Portuguese war grig, Vouga.
The Junta
argued that it did not have the documents to determine his freedom. If the documentation
of his registration existed, it was “inadvertently” given to the curator of slaves. In other
words, the bureaucracy could not locate his documents, which made determining his
status difficult. Eventually, the Junta noted that a certain certificate demonstrated that
587
José was “imported by contraband.”
The Decree of 1836 banned the importation and
exportation of slaves in Portuguese possessions. Because of this, the Junta decided that
Domingos technically arrived as a free person. Moreover, Agostinho José Rodriguez did
not have the right to register Domingos with the Slave Registry.
588
On May 23, 1862,
Junta said that Agostinho should properly register Domingos and “obtain clarification in
the documents.”
589
Even slaveholders petitioned the Junta for assistance. On January 14, 1862,
Antonio da Costa Ferreira Borges petitioned the Junta to have José, a liberated slave who
585
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-07, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos
e Libertos, Janeiro–Dezembro 1862, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias manuscritos
AHNCV.
586
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, 07.
587
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, 07; António Carreira, “O Tráfico clandestine de escravos na Guiné
e em Cabo Verde no século XIX,” in Raízes, n.º 5/6, 1978, Ano 2, Praia: Imprensa
Nacional. Perhaps José was a victim of this clandestine slave trade, which was mainly
from Nunes River of the Upper Guinea that was sent to Cuba and Brazil. Caetano José
Nosoliny was a prominent slave trader with family connections in Santiago.
588
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, 07.
589
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, 07.
209
590
was a native of Bissau, to be sent to his homeland.
Jose was hospitalized, but Borges
complained that this was a financial burden for him. Hence, Borges argued that his
former slave was “deranged” and he pleaded with the Junta to assist José’s return to his
homeland where he could best convalesce. Borges might have been more concerned
about what this freed slave was costing him than José’s heath. The document does not
provide José’s ethnic group or his exact homeland in the Guinea-Bissau region.
Moreover, the document is silent about his age or if he had another name. José had been
in Cape Verde for about seventeen years.
The Junta also paid for the manumission of adults. Gregorio was a native of
591
Santiago, age 26, black, and owned by João Cabral Franco.
On April 26, 1863, in the
praça across the street from Our Lady of Grace Church in Praia, Franco auctioned
Gregorio to Francisco Cardozo de Mello. With Mello’s death, his son, Francisco,
inherited Gregorio. On December 3, 1867, Gregorio paid 50,000 réis, with the Junta
providing 15,000 réis, for his manumission. In another case, the Junta manumitted Luiz,
who was the slave of Jozé Monteiro d’ Almeida, a resident of São Thiago Corado Parish
on July 14, 1866.
592
Luiz was a mason, a native of Guiné, and age 26 with “facial
markings.”
Although issue of inheritance, such as the case of Gregorio, could be
straightforward, other cases were complicated and people sought assistance from the
Junta. On August 30, 1869, the Junta considered an application by Dionizia Sanches
590
591
592
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, 04.
SGG\F2.2\Livro (Lv) 0863, 27 v.
SGG\F2.2\Lv0863, 29v.
210
Lopes and Maria dos Reis da Fonseca that demanded “manifesto” (pronouncement)
concerning three freed slaves, Athanasio, Antonio, and Lucas, who were owned by
593
Antonio Lopes da Costa.
The three slaves submitted documents requesting their
freedom. The Junta noted that due to the “instructions of May 28, 1868 [they] denied the
solicited registration because there was a lack of endorsement of past manifestos by the
594
requesters.”
This referred to Article 6 of Decree of October 28, 1857, which stipulated
that a new “possessor” must register the slave as evidence before manumission. Because
Antonio Lopes da Costa died after the proclamation of the Decree of February 25, 1868,
the documents were deemed “insufficient.”
595
The Junta noted that Antonio Lopes da
Costa had died “more than four years ago,” which meant Dionizia and Maria’s petition
for these slaves was legally difficult to succeed. The resolution was that “legitimate heirs
to the couple’s assets” prevailed rather than the unlawfully submitted manifesto.
On October 2, 1865, the Junta said that a plethora of slaves lodged grievances
596
daily about lack of sustenance as well as maltreatment.
The Junta emphasized that
when both sides of the stories (from slaveholders and slaves) were heard that the majority
of the complaints were false. The Junta adjudication was quite prejudicial because those
deliberating were well established and some were slaveholders.
In addition to manumissions being issued by the Junta, the governor-general also
provided freedom letters for slaves. In 1856, Francisco Alberto Azevedo, a resident of
593
594
595
596
SGG, Cx. N.º576, P-07, f4.
SGG, Cx. N.º576, P-07, f4v.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-07, f.4v.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09, Correspondênicia Recebida do Junta Protectora dos
Escravos e Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Janeiro–Outubro 1865, 3 peças;
originais e cópias manuscritos.
211
Praia, had six slaves. Four of them were from Guiné and the other two, Viriginia and
Julia, were born on São Tiago Island. Both under age 5, which suggests that their parents
were one of his Guinean female slaves, Constança and/or Jozepha.
Table 3. Francisco Alberto Azevedo’s Slaves
Name
Jozé de
Azevedo
Pedro
Constança
Jozepha
Virginia
Julia
597
Born
Guiné
Age
20
Color
fula
Guiné
Guiné
Guiné
São Tiago
São Tiago
20
30
30
4
1
preto
fula
preto
preto
preto
598
The governor-general issued a freedom letter for Pedro.
In May 1863, the local
authorities altered this information in the slave census of 1856, which means that Pedro
was freed between 1856 and 1863. In January 1857, Francisco Alberto Azevedo freed his
female slave, Constança, but the local authorities only added this information in the slave
census in May 1867.
599
This was when the push to end slavery in Cape Verde was well
underway and keeping updated records became crucial.
Others, nevertheless, were only freed when their owners perished, such as in
November 1859, wben the death of Maria da Penha Franco, a resident of Praia, freed
600
Rufino in her will.
The latter was a male, from Guiné, age 35, and described as black.
Also, bizarrely in November 1859, Maria da Penha Franco Jaz, who was a slaveholder,
597
598
599
600
SGG\F2.2\Lv 0863, f.4f–4v.
SGG\F2.2\Lv 0863, f.2v.
SGG\F2.2\Lv 0863, f.2–2v.
SGG\F2.2\Lv 0863, folha 8 frente-f.8 v.
212
passed away.
601
(This is not to be confused with Maria da Penha Franco who passed
away on the same date.) In her will, Jaz emancipated Forentina, a woman, age 45, from
Guine, and also labeled black. Dona Anna de Mendonça, a resident of Colegio, divided
602
some of her slaves among her relatives in her will.
According to the slave census of
1856, Dona Mendonça had eleven slaves: Paulo Semedo, Manoel, Maria, Jozepha, Maria
da Boa Esperança, Izabel, Aniceta, Felisberta, Ignes, Bernardina, and Sabina.
603
Ignes
was 20 years of age, born on São Tiago Island and described as fula. In May 1855, Ignes
had a baby named Bernardina, who was baptized in June 1855.
604
The godparents were
Paulo Nunes and Maria Luanta, both residents of São Nicolau Colegio. Neither the
baptismal record nor the slave census mentions her being manumitted. When Dona
Mendonça died, in February 1866, her daughter, Dona M. ª [Maria] Semedo Ferreira,
inherited Izabel, who was from Guiné, age 50, and Ignes, a native of São Thiago, age 20,
and described as fula. In February 1866, Pedro Semedo Cardozo inherited Felizberta, a
605
female slave from Guiné, age 21, and black.
Therefore, manumission camegradually:
despite founding of the Junta in 1856, slavery was not completely abolished until 1876.
Although obtaining freedom could be a legal nightmare, libertos, former owners,
and the state had different notions of “freedom.” Thus, “freedom” created tensions and
601
602
SGG\F2.2\Lv 0863, folha 9 frente-f.9 v.
1856/03-1856/05, SGG\F2.2\Lv0863, Registo de escravos do Concelho da Vila da
Praia (n.º2), Santiago, folha (f) 2. Originais manuscritos, n.º antigo 327.
603
SGG\F2.2\Lv0863, folha 2 frente and 2 verso.
604
Caixa n.23, peça 1, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de S.
Nicolau Tolentino, 25 de Abril de 1849 a 28 de Janeiro de 1857, 105v. originais
manuscritos.
605
SGG\F2.2\Lv0863, 2v.
213
conflicts. The state and the elites used free labor for their personal interests, and legal
institutions, such as the Junta, usually provided control mechanisms. The colonial state
inculcated that an exemplary “free” people were good citizens who perform work for the
polity and those who freed them, whether state, private owners, or charity organizations.
The Catholic Church was instrumental in developing the “free” citizenry by serving as
the institution via which manumission was conducted via baptism, but along with the
state, it upheld the compensation to the slave-owners. It was, perhaps, a Portuguese
Catholic bourgeois notion of citizenry, which is different from the Weberian notion of a
Protestant work ethic. In the history of the Portuguese Empire, the discourse about the
criminal exiles (degredados) was usually laced with religious overtones of impurities that
required spiritual purification. James Sweet believes, that “The logic of banishment
mirrored that of purgatory: Once cleansed of one’s sins after a period of strict penance, a
606
convict could reenter society and live an upright godly life.”
Thus, slaves as heathens
(gentios) once freed (liberto), needed tutelage to become true citizens, i.e., civilized,
which the mandatory service for freed persons entailed to accomplish.
Crime and Punishment: Slaves, Libertos, and (Poor) Free
The Junta meted out punishment not only to libertos who were “lazy” but also to
those who committed “crimes.” There is a direct link between slaves and prisoners,
because the curator of slaves was also the curator of poor prisoners (curador de escravo e
presos pobres). Other institutions, such as the judicial system, also controlled “deviant”
behavior through public executions, fines, exile, and imprisonment. The main culprits—
and receivers of punishment—were slaves, libertos, and poor freeborn, who represented
606
James Sweet, Domingos, Álvares, African Healing, and the Intellectual History of the
Atlantic World (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press), 186.
214
the bulk of the population. Rebellious people and those deemed criminals in Cape Verde
were a reservoir of foot soldiers.
607
On June 5, 1855, the Junta of Justice deliberated the
cases of accused people that included free, slaves, and libertos.
608
The members of the
Junta of Justice were from the elites of the society: the president (who was the general
governor counsel [Conselheiro Governador Geral]); Dr. judge of rights of Leeward
County (Juiz de Direito da Comarca de Sotavento); a judge (Juiz), and referendary
(Relator) of the criminal cases from Windward Chamber (Comarca de Barlavento); Dr.
José Maria Pinto da Costa, deputy attorney of the Windward Region (Delegado do
Procurador Regio de Barlavento); judge and teferendary of the processes from the
Leeward Region; additional judges were Lieutenant-Colonel Francisco de Paulo Brito,
609
Lieutenant-Coronel Henrique José d’Oliveira,
Major Antonio Ferreira Quaresma,
Second Lieutenant Antonio Teive de Vasconcellos (as secretary). Captain Izidoro José de
Sousa Carvalho replaced Second Lieutenant Vasconcellos as secretary due to an
“impediment.” From June 1860 through April 1861, Dr. José Maria da Costa presided
over the cases from the Leeward Islands County (Comarca de Sotavento).
Exile in the Portuguese Empire was used extensively and later colonial powers,
such as the British and the French, used it in Africa and other regions. Just like in Brazil
607
Peter Beattie, The Tribute of Blood: Army, Honor, Race, and Nation in Brazil, 1864–
1945 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001; Beattie, “‘Born Under the Cruel Rigor
of Captivity, the Supplicant Left It Unexpectedly by Committing A Crime’: Categorizing
and Punishing Slave Convicts in Brazil, 1830–1897,” The Americas 66, no. 1 (2009): 11–
55.
608
Boletim Official do Governo Geral de Cabo-Verde (BOGGCV), 1856, Numero 187,
819.
609
In 1868, Henrique José de Oliveira was the equivalent of the mayor (president de
camara municipal) of Praia. In 1868, Egidio Antonio de Souza, treasurer of the Junta,
had died and the Junta nominated Henrique José de Oliveira as treasurer.
215
and Portugal, degredados were sent to Africa; Cape Verde sent them to mainly
Portuguese Guinea. In Brazil, there were loose vagrancy laws that restricted movements
610
and gathering of people to acquire people to serve in Angola.
The number of convicts
sent to West Africa shows that the colonial government desperately needed foot soldiers
in the praças, especially those who were resistant to malaria, i.e., Africans. In Cape
Verde, sending exiles to the mainland started with the colonization of the archipelago
during the late fifteenth century. Exile was an important factor for commercial activities
(i.e., slave trade and “legitimate” trade) and to wage a war of terror to that eventually
would consolidate Portuguese Guinea. In October 1861, in Praia, Carlos Augusto Franco,
governor of Cape Verde, emphasized the need to establish with “urgency” a regular
means of communication between the fledgling Portuguese Guinea and Cape Verde. (The
611
Bissau war schooner would provide communications.
) Finally, the governor suggested
that regular communication would be good not only for the two colonies, but for
commerce, which had declined in recent times.
In Cape Verde, criminals were sent to Portuguese Guinea, which continued the
centuries old cross-cultural exchanges of ideas, items, and people between the coast and
the islands.
612
For instance, on March 1, 1853, Custodio Correâ “enlisted” and served
610
Roquinaldo Ferreira, Cross-Cultural Exchange in the Atlantic World: Angola and
Brazil during the Era of the Slave Trade (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012)
192–3.
611
BOGGCV, N.42, 1861, 181.
612
In fact, it continued during the colonization of Guinea-Bissau with soldiers from
Cape Verde participating in the war of conquest and seventy-five percent of the chefe de
post (intermediary colonial bureaucrats were Cape Verdeans); see Peter Mendy, “Amilcar
Cabral and the Liberation of Guinea-Bissau: Context, Challenges, Lessons for Effective
African leadership,” African Identities 4, no. 1 (2006): 10.
216
until March 1, 1860. Claudio Sanches, Gaspar Antonio José, and Manoel Roballo served
613
seven years.
The colonial secretary general document does not allow us to determine
if they were exiles, but many soldiers were. In Portuguese Guinea, some slaveholders
from Cape Verde commanded the fighting forces of degredados that consisted of free
poor individuals, slaves, and libertos.
In 1861, for instance, Major José Xavier Crato, a major slaveholder and graduated
major of battalion of artillery of Cape Verde (Mayor Graduado do Batalhão d’Artilheria
614
de Cabo Verde) was nominated to be auditor for the War Councils.
In February 1863,
Major Crato, acting as interim governor of Portuguese Guinea, ratified an old treaty of
1843 with the Felupe of Matta de Putama, which I will discuss in detail in chapter 5.
615
From at least 1862 to 1865, Major Jozé Xavier Crato led numerous military
expeditions and signed treaties with African rulers. During this period, the Portuguese
were at war with several African groups for which they desperately required foot soldiers.
For instance, in the military fort (presidio) of Geba, they were in conflict with the nearby
Beafadas of Badora.
616
Major Crato was selected to head a delegation to Geba. From the
Portuguese perspective, this antagonism by Beafadas attacking the fort stifled trade,
particularly because Cape Verdean/Portuguese merchants on the estates (pontas) had
613
Although records described these soldiers as having enlisted, they could have been
exiled convicts, particularly given the fact that they each served exactly seven years. As
noted above, liberated slaves had mandatory service of seven years.
614
BOGGCV, N.º 46, 1861, 215.
615
SGG, Cx. Nº 347, Peça 3; 1/41, “Tratados e contratos do Governo da Guiné
Portuguesa, 1828–1879.” 1.5cm; originais e cópias manuscritos.
616
BOGGCV, N.º5, 1862, 27, Continuado do numero antecedente.
217
established themselves in the slave trade and were making the transition to “legitimate
trade.”
The crimes for which exile could be imposed varied from minor to serious
offenses, such as stealing, assault, political dissent, murder, and rape. A prominent case
handled by the Junta concerned libertos from São Nicolau Island. In December 1857,
João Antonio Leite, an administrator for the Saint Nicholas County (Concelho de São
Nicolau), lodged a petition about libertos who had “abandoned” their masters and were
617
“robbing in the streets” and “turned vagabonds.”
Leite requested that the Junta to deal
with this “scandal” to bring “calm to the inhabitants of that island.” In December 1857,
Reverend Robert Fernandes Pinto, president of the Junta, wrote that it was beyond his
authority to determine the “necessary punishment” for the libertos. Therefore, Pinto
submitted the case to the governor general counsel (Conselheiro de Governador Geral) in
618
December 1857.
In January 1858, Arroba, the governor of Cape Verde, wrote to the
Portuguese government seeking “authorization” for the Junta to send the libertos to a
619
“military colony” in the Rio Grande.
The document is silent about the authorization,
but given that there were cases from the Junta of Justice about exiled convicts sent to
West Africa, and that a major slaveholder, Major Crato, led a military expeditionary force
from Cape Verde to Portuguese Guinea, it is highly unlikely that this request was denied.
At any rate, there are several cases of degredados sent to Upper Guinea or, as the
record indicate, West Africa. Both serious and minor offenses received sentences of
617
618
619
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.22–23.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.22–f.22v.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, f.22.
218
exile, which suggests that the criteria were flexible. For instance, in June 1855, the Junta
of Justice found Tertuliano Pereira, a freeborn man and native of Brava Island, guilty of
620
theft and exiled him to Guinea for fifteen years, including one year of imprisonment.
In August 1859, the Junta of Justice charged João Furtado, a slave, with “injuring, which
caused a death,” and in July 1860, sentenced him to “fifteen years to West Africa, with
621
work.”
In March 1858, the Junta of Justice indicted Victorino Cabral for causing an
injury that resulted in death of someone.
622
In November 1860, they condemned
Victorino to five years exile to West Africa with imprisonment. There is a glaring
discrepancy between Victorino Cabral and João Furtado’s sentences for similar crimes.
Furtado’s status as a slave might have affected his sentence or the person he killed was of
relatively high class.
Frustrated homicide was the only other crime that a convicted individual received
a longer period of exile. In January 1861, the Junta of Justice convicted Candido Timas
for “frustrated homicide,” with perpetual exile to West Africa.
623
Others convicted of
involuntary homicide were not permanently exiled to West Africa; evidently “frustrated
homicide” and “involuntary homicide” were judged differently. “Frustated homicide” is
when a person wrongs a second party, and the second party, due to frustration, kills a
third party. “Involuntary homicide” is killing someone unintentionally. In the above
620
Boletim Official Governo Geral de Provincia de Cabo Verde (BOGGCV), 1855,
Numero 187, 819. Housed in the Biblioteca Nacional e Livros de Cabo Verde, Praia.
621
BOGGCV, 1860, Numero 19, 83.
622
623
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
From a legal perspective, it is a death that was unintended and not premeditated.
219
cases, the people that they killed were not mentioned in the proceedings; their
backgrounds are unknown.
The Junta of Justice also sentenced people to exile for stealing, burglary, rape,
and political dissent. Those convicted of burglary or stealing were often, exiled. In
January 1861, for instance, the Junta of Justice convicted Diogo de Sequeira for stealing
and gave him three years of exile to West Africa.
624
Exile was also a potential punishment for crimes of assault. Maria Gordiana was
625
indicted twice, in August 1859 and November 1859, for wounding someone.
In July
1860, the Junta of Justice found Gordiana guilty, sentencing her to three years exile in
West Africa. Women were rarely exiled, but exile could be a consequence of commiting
a severe crime. In December 1859, the Junta charged Ezequiel de Pina with injuring an
individual; in November 1860, the court judge handed down a sentence of eight years
service in West Africa.
626
In December 1860, Paulo Tavares was convicted of inflicting
wounds on an unidentified individual and received five-year sentence to West Africa.
Banishment was not just to territories, but on the sea as well. For instance, in
January 1857, Francisco d’Araujo e Castro was charged with homicide.
627
While his
case was pending, Francisco was charged with another homicide in November 1858. In
December 1860, the Junta of Justice combined the charges, and sentenced him to ten
624
625
626
627
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 20, 1861, 87.
220
years of exile to East Africa, including five years of imprisonment.
628
In July 1860, José
Senteio was convicted of killing an individual due to inflicted injuries; in December
1860, Senteio was sentenced to five years of exile as a soldier to East Africa, which
included two years of prison.
629
In addition, on August 12, 1860, Roque Monteiro was
charged with robbery; on November 15, 1860, he was found guilty and sentenced to five
630
years in East Africa, including time in prison.
Perhaps Portuguese activities in East
Africa required degredados.
Another form of exile was at sea. In September 1860, Izidoro de Oliveira, Manoel
da Graça, and Antonio Mendes were charged with burglary.
631
In March 1861, Izidoro
de Oliveira and Manoel da Graça received sentences of “eight years of public works in
the Overseas.” Antonio, however, was sentenced to eight years to East Africa, with three
years of jail time.
632
Izidoro and Manoel may have served as sailors, while Antonio was
banished to East Africa, which was uncommon, but he was not alone.
One case shows a politically motivated conviction. In March 1860, the court
633
judged charged Miguel Gomes, a Migeulinho (political dissident) with “injury.”
In
November 1860, he was sentenced to West Africa for three years. Miguelinhos were
supporters of the 1817 Pernambuco Revolution that desired Pernambuco, a captaincy in
northeastern colonial Brazil, to independent from Portugal. With the independence of
628
629
630
631
632
633
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 20, 1861, 87.
BOGGCV, N.º 20, 1861, 87.
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
221
Brazil in 1822, in Praia, the capital of colonial Cape Verde, there was some agitation to
separate from Portugal and become a territory of the independent Brazil.
634
Furthermore,
Roquinaldo Ferreira shows that the Brazilian quest for independence had a direct impact
635
on the Portuguese province of Angola.
The African-Portuguese world had deep
connections due to the existing trade (primary slave) network, primarily slave trade.
Notions of honor that related to female sexuality, perhaps, prevailed in the AfroLuso Atlantic world. There is one case in someone was exiled for rape, which shows that
the authorities were preoccupied with the notion of honor. In December 1860, the Junta
of Justice convicted Manoel Varella of rape and sentenced him three years of service in
636
West Africa unless he married the violated woman.
The filing of the suit could imply
that notions of honor existed, particularly because the Junta of Justice deliberated and
gave a harsh sentence. Interestingly, though, it also suggests that the honor of women
could be restored via marriage. Hence, the crime was not violating a woman, but perhaps
having sexual relations without Church sanction, i.e., marriage.
At any rate, in the Portuguese Empire, degredados were common. Labelling
degredados, that included slaves, libertos, and New Christians, as Luso-Africans, as
creolized individuals, is historically inaccurate. By categorizing all residents from Cape
Verde in Upper Guinea as Luso-Africans, George Brooks, Peter Mark, and José Horta
ignore erases the class dimension of the social stratification that existed within the
634
Daniel A. Pereira, Das relações históricas Cabo Verde-Brasil (Brasília, Brazil:
Fundação Alexandre de Gusmão, 2011), 53–54.
635
Ferreira, Cross-cultural exchange in the Atlantic World, 127–29.
636
Unfortunately, I did not find any documents that shows what he actually chose to do,
i.e., exile or marriage.
222
Portuguese praças of Upper Guinea that included, slaves, libertos, New Christians and
merchants.
637
Although the concept of “race” was malleable in Upper Guinea for
degredados, class was still a factor. In contrast, labeling Cape Verde a “Luso-African”
society would be even more problematic then categorizing degredados sent to Upper
Guinea as such, because of race, class, and gender factors. In other words, this label
homogenizes the social strata within Cape Verdean society with elites as representative of
the entire society.
In Cape Verde, part of the elite’s efforts, which identified as Luso-Africans,
meted out the death penalty to instill fear among the masses to maintain order and
control. In June 1855, the Junta of Justice found José Luiz, a slave and native of Boa638
Vista, guilty of aggravated homicide.
José Luiz received the death penalty and he was
to be executed in Boa-Vista. In July 1855, Julio da Nora, a slave native of Sal, was
convicted of aggravated homicide and was sentenced to death. He was to be executed in
Sal. Presumably, this was to make an example of him to his fellow slaves on the island—
terror utilized to establish and maintain social order and hierarchy. Not all slaves,
however, were found guilty.
637
George E. Brooks, Eurafricans in western Africa: commerce, social status, gender,
and religious observance from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century (Athens: Ohio
University Press 2003); Peter Mark, “Portuguese” Style and Luso-African Identity:
Precolonial Senegambia, Sixteenth–Nineteenth Centuries (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 2002.); José da Silva Horta, “Evidence for a Luso-African Identity in
‘Portuguese’ Accounts on ‘Guinea of Cape Verde’ (Sixteenth–Seventeenth Centuries),”
History in Africa 27 (2000): 99–130.
638
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 819.
223
In October 1861, the Junta of Justice charged Lazaro Vaz and Florencio de Brito
of assassinating José Antonio Braga, native of Portugal.
639
Lazaro Vaz (or Lazaro
Mendes Vaz) was described as a resident of Ribeirão-Chiqueiro single, a farmer, and
native of Santiago. Florencio de Brito, a slave, was listed as single and a native of Fogo
Island, but when he was arrested he resided on the Military Hospital Street in Praia. Vaz
was condemned to death in the form of a public execution at the pillory in the main
square in Praia. Brito was condemned to a lifetime of public works at sea. In other words,
he was a slave sailor.
Even high status people did not always escape the law. Before becoming
president of the Junta of Protector of Slaves and Freed People, Eduardo José Rodrigues
Fernandes was the clerk (escrivão) for the Leeward County (Comarca de Sotavento). In
June 1855, the Justice of Junta delivered their verdict regarding a crime by Eduardo José
Fernandes and João Sanches, both listed as free and natives of São Tiago.
640
They
charged Eduardo with illegally obtaining a horse from João Sanches and committing a
crime with it.
641
The Junta of Justice sentenced Eduardo to three years in prison and
fined him 5,000 réis, but fined João only 1,200 réis without imprisonment.
Slaves were also fined as well as receiving prison terms and labor service. In
March 1854, Henrique Lopes, who was freeborn, and Valeiro, a slave, were charged with
642
“voluntary homicide.”
In November 1860, they were given sentences of a lifetime
public work. Surprisingly, they were not exiled to West Africa. In February 1860,
639
640
641
642
BOGGCV, N.º 44, 1861, 198.
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 820.
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 820
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
224
Bertoldo, a slave, was charged with “resistance,”
643
and he was sentenced to “one year of
prison with work and [a] 100 [réis] fine for three months.” In July 1860, the Junta of
Justice indicted Gregorio Nozolini Franco,
644
645
a slave, with “wounding” someone,
and he was sentenced to serve “two months prison with work.” In August 1860, José
646
Manjaco,
a slave, was charged with “injury.”
647
Manjaco, his last name, is an
ethnonym of Africans who historically resided in the northeast of modern-day GuineaBissau. In November 1860, José Manjaco was sentenced to one month of prison with
work. In January 1860, José de Brito, a slave, was charged with “flight and burglary.”
648
In January 1861, José Brito was sentenced to “eight months of prison, with labor.”
Finally, in February 1861, João Lopes, a liberto, was charged with arson, and was
sentenced to “perform public works for a lifetime.”
649
The Junta of Justice, however, did dismiss cases against freeborn people and
slaves, but the latter appear to receive more stringent punishments. In June 1855, for
instance, the “process” against Cazimiro de Pina, a slave and native of Santiago, who was
643
644
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
Perhaps, a family related to Nozolini owned him, who was a powerful Cape Verdean
and Luso-African family based on the Upper Guinea Coast and Cape Verde. Perhaps, a
Nozolini lady married into the family then-governor of Cape Verde, Carlos Augusto
Franco.
645
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
646
The consequence of racial slavery and colonialism is that today it is commonplace in
Cape Verdean society for mainland black Africans to be (derisively) referred to as
Manjacos.
647
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
648
649
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
225
accused of homicide, was “judged null.”
650
However, in June 1855, Maria Clara da
Neves and Antonia Serafim dos Santos, free women from São Nicolau, along with
Victora and Felippe, slaves and natives of São Nicolau, were all accused of breaking and
entry and assaulting the home-dweller. Neves and Santos were acquitted due to lack of
proof, while Victora and Felippe were “condemned to three months of prison with
651
work.”
Nevertheless, it is risky to generalize that slaves and libertos received tougher
sentences. In June 1855, Alexandre, a slave and native of Santiago, and Domingos José
Tavares Sanches, a freeborn man and also a native of Santiago, were acquitted of
robbery.
652
That same month the Junta of Justice “nullified” the allegation of “tentative
stealing” against Felix José dos Santos, who was freeborn, and Domingos, liberto, who
were both from Santiago.
Even when female slaves were accused of crimes, the verdicts were not uniform.
On April 18, 1860, a group of four slave women, Caetana, Maria de Santa, Floripa, and
Eduarda, were charged with the crime of “inflicting wounds” (ferimentos). In October
1860, Caetana and Maria de Santa were convicted of eight days in prison with work, but
653
Floripa and Eduarda were “absolved due to lack of evidence.”
In July 1860, Elias, a
654
slave, was indicted of robbery, but she was absolved due to lack of proof.
650
651
652
653
654
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 820.
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 820.
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856, 820.
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
BOGGCV, N.º 19, 1860, 83.
226
In May
1860, João de Barros, a slave, was charged with stealing, but was exonerated in January
655
1861 due to insufficient evidence.
In summary, the Junta of Protection of Slaves and Libertos ushered in the end of
slavery in Cape Verde, even though it was gradual, legalistic, and elitist driven. The
Catholic Church and the state collaborated to end slavery in Cape Verde, but with
financial recompense for the slaveholders. Furthermore, libertos had to serve seven years
of service to the state or private entities, probably to instill notions of wageworker, rather
than free peasant. A popular form of punishment was “public works,” which the state
used to implement major projects or control the libertos, slaves, and the poor majority.
Exile, as punishment, was important to recruit desperately needed foot soldiers to wage
war of terror to conquer independent African polities to effectively establish Portuguese
Guinea. Some studies of the colonization of Portuguese Guinea tend to depict the soldiers
from Cape Verde as collaborators, without showing the nuances. Inevitably, there were
deep cross-cultural exchange between Cape Verde and Upper Guinea, specifically the
Guinea-Bissau region, which continued after the end of the slave trade.
Besides mere passive agents in history, slaves and libertos used the new law and
institution to gain greater freedom and more rights for themselves or just to improve their
lot in life. Godparents were vital in manumitting their godchildren, which underlined the
sense of kinship and social bond between them. Moreover, slaves, libertos, and the poor
were intricately connected in terms of the “justice” meted out against them.
655
BOGGCV, N.º 21, 1861, 91.
227
CHAPTER 5
KINSHIP, ABOLITION, COMMERCE AND COLONIZATION OF PORTUGUESE
GUINEA, c. 1830–1879
Notions of kinship between Cape Verdeans and Luso-Africans in Portuguese
Guinea enabled an interaction between the mainland African and Atlantic trade networks.
They continued to foster the rise of legitimate trade with Cape Verdeans relocating to the
coast to engage in commercial activities, particularly with the production of peanuts.
These Cape Verdean male traders had partnerships and relationships with coastal women,
which resulted in children. The local African women, as partners, were cultural brokers
that facilitated the Cape Verdeans gaining access to lineage leaders and rulers to have
access to land and trading privileges. The children of the unions further cemented this
relationship and legitimacy by having direct links with the coast and the Cape Verde
Islands. In Portuguese Guinea, some of these elite Cape Verdean merchants and officials
were slave smugglers and had slaves in their praças and pontos throughout what became
Portuguese Guinea that performed various jobs, growing peanuts, serving as guides in
navigating the myriad rivers, and fighting in the colonial expeditionary force. These
military units also included from the province of Cape Verde degredados. Usually, these
were slaves, libertos, and the poor as free labor and soldiers to wage war on African old
“allies.” Besides the aforementioned, in Portuguese Guinea, Kristons, (also known as
“Christianized” Africans) and grumetes (cabin boys) lived in the Portuguese praças
serving as porters, sailors, and interpreters. During the expansion and consolidation of
Portuguese Guinea (1828–1870s), interpreters facilitated the signing of treaties between
Africans and Portuguese were usually grumetes. Some degredados and grumetes,
228
however, deserted the praças, which shows that their role were more than just
collaborators. Moreover, the slaves in Portuguese Guinea were emancipated, but had to
serve mandatory service to their owner. Those beyond the control of Portuguese Guinea,
in the pontas (small plantations), these slaves, who were much more than thoses within
the colonial territory, were not liberated, but worked on agricultural production, food
crops, and peanuts.
In the historiography of the colonization of Portuguese Guinea, there are two
approaches: one emphasizing the intermediary roles, and the other emphasizing African
resistance. René Pélissier approaches the colonization of Portuguese Guinea from the
classic paradigm: resistance and collaboration by Africans, with an emphasis on primary
resistance.
656
Peter Mendy explores resistance in all its forms from primary (early),
657
secondary (later), including religious rebellion.
In contrast, Joshua Forrest, Philip
Havik, Peter Mark, and George Brooks tend to show the intermediary roles. Joshua
Forrest argues that a strong rural civil society and interethnic alliance rendered the
colonial state weak in Guinea-Bissau.
658
Walter Hawthorne suggests more
differentiation among Luso-Africans, Cape Verdeans, and Portuguese colonial agents
(usually governors) regarding their attitudes as well as policies.
656
659
Philip Havik argues
René Pélissier, História da Guiné, Portugueses e Africanos na Senegâmbia (1841–
1936), Vol. I, (Lisbon, Portugal: Editorial Estampa, 1989), 24.
657
Peter Mendy, Colonialismo Português em África: A Tradição de Resistênica na
Guiné-Bissau (1879–1959) (Bissau, Guinea-Bissau: Instituto Nacional de Estudos e
Pesquisa, 1991), 38–67.
658
Joshua B. Forrest, Lineages of State Fragility: Rural Civil Society in Guinea-Bissau
(Athens: Ohio University, 2003).
659
Walter Hawthorne, “History and Identity in Senegambia and on the Upper Guinea
Coast,” Review of Eurafricans in Western Africa: Commerce, Social Status, Gender, and
229
that the stranger–landlord model might be appropriate at the beginning of contact but
does not capture the gendered dynamics of the Afro-Atlantic dimension.
660
The binary depiction of colonizer and colonized has long been discredited;
scholars have shown that there were also colonized colonizers (i.e., go-betweens or
intermediaries. Grumetes blur the lines in the colonization process, because they
participated yet sometimes abandoned colonial efforts. Grumetes corresponded to what
Benjamin N. Lawrance, Emily Lynn Osborn, and Richard L. Roberts depict as
intermediaries, interpreters, and clerks who functioned as cultural brokers between
661
colonized and colonizer.
David Robinson argues for accommodation theory, which
emphasizes that Africans and the French in the colonies of Senegal and Mauritania
“bargained” rather than the binary model of resistance that shows some Africans as
662
resisters and others as collaborators.
In pursuing their interest, they bargained for their
interests than surrendering or fighting.
Religious Observance from the Sixteenth to the Eighteen Century by George E. Brooks;
Lineages of State Fragility: Rural Civil Society in Guinea-Bissau by Joshua B. Forrest;
“Portuguese” Style and Luso-African Identity: Precolonial Senegambia, Sixteenth–
Nineteenth Centuries by Peter Mark, Africa 74, no. 3 (2004): 462.
660
Philip Havik, Silences and Soundbytes: The Gendered Dynamics of Trade and
Brokerage in the Pre-Colonial Guinea Bissau Region (Munster, Germany: Lit Verlag,
2004), 22. Leopoldina Ferreira (1871–1959) or affectionately known as “Nha Bijago,”
was another nhara with Cape Verdean connections; see, António Júlio Estácio, “Nha
Bijagó”-Respeitada Personalidade da Sociedade Guineense (1871–1959),
http://triplov.com/guinea_bissau/antonio_julio_estacio/nha_bijago/nha_bijago.pdf,
obtained Saturday, April 26, 2013.
661
Benjamin N. Lawrance, Emily Lynn Osborn, and Richard L. Roberts, eds,
Intermediaries, Interpreters, and Clerks: African Employees in the Making of Colonial
Africa (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006), 4.
662
David Robinson, Paths of Accommodation: Muslim Societies and French Colonial
Authorities in Senegal and Mauritania (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2000).
230
In a similar vein, Eve M. Troutt Powell demonstrates that colonized Egyptians, as
part of an Anglo-Egyptian consortium, were part of the colonization of Sudan, in which
racial difference and the enslavement of the Sudanese constituted ingredients of Egyptian
identity and nationalism. Cape Verdean elites, the slave traders and military commanders,
were those colonized colonizers who invoked racial, religious, and cultural difference
with Africans, derisively called gentios.
None of these paradigms captures the complexity of the Cape Verdean roles,
because as colonized colonizers, there was great diversity within that group. In fact, the
term “Luso-African” is nebulous because it includes Cape Verdeans of different classes,
religious convictions, occupations, and racial backgrounds with Luso-Africans born and
raised on the mainland. The degredados from Cape Verde were usually libertos and part
of their mandatory service after manumission was to serve the colonial state or their
former owners. Libertos did not receive full citizenship, and were in an ambiguous
category between freedom and slavery. As Cláudio Alves Furtado, a Cape Verdean
scholar, underscores, Cape Verdean scholars have tended to articulate a singular national
identity and culture, dismissing social differentiations, such as class, race, and
663
ethnicity.
This chapter attempts to depict the nuances of the colonized colonizer, a
motley group of historical actors with divergent interests, yet living under an imperial
power structure that dictated the limits of their agency. Although African resistance was
unequivocal, grumetes and degradados exploited this reality to serve their interest.
This chapter examines notion of kinship, the abolition of the slave trade,
commerce, and the colonization of Portuguese Guinea in relation to Cape Verde between
663
Cláudio Alves Furtado, “Raça, Classe e Etnia nos estudos sobre e em Cabo Verde: as
marcas do silêncio,” Afro-Ásia 45 (2012): 143–4.
231
the 1820s and the 1870s. First, it lays out an overview of Portuguese Guinea. Second, it
explores the kinship ties between Cape Verdeans and Luso-Africans on the mainland,
which intensified during the onset of Portuguese territorial expansion. Third, it focuses on
the abolition of slave trade and manumission in Portuguese Guinea, which was caused
partially by the British presence in the area. Fourth, the Portuguese reacted to this
pressure by signing treaties with African rulers and communities to secure their
influence. It shows that interpreters, particularly the grumetes, were important in
facilitating the treaties. These treaties entailed commercial benefits for the Portuguese as
well as the usurpation of African sovereignty and territories. This turned into an open war
of terror against independent African communities, euphemistically called “pacification
campaigns.”
State of Portuguese Guinea
During the early 1820s, Martinho suggested that Portuguese Guinea was in a
deplorable state because Portugal neglected to establish sound administration and relied
on a few scoundrels who provided some benefits to workers of the Portuguese Overseas
664
Secretary.
Martinho wrote that with only 8 million réis for Cacheu and Bissau he was
able to amass 200 well-armed soldiers, “well disciplined, uniformed and fed.” Whereas,
by the 1830s, there was only about forty to sixty soldiers, who were “miserable, shoeless
blacks” that meandered in the “bush begging for their sustenance.” The smugglers had a
stronghold and conducted contraband slave trade in ports near the praça of Bissau and
Cacheu. The smugglers were “independent” and Portugal was too weak to punish them.
According to Martinho, the Portuguese personnel sent to Portuguese Guinea were
664
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 106.
232
“mechanical scallywags, idlers, drunkards, gamblers, intriguing, demoralized,” and
therefore, it was better to recruit foreigners from Malta, Cadiz, and Marseille.
665
Gambia
under British rule and Senegal/Gorée under French control, Martinho believed, were
better governed. The British and French had a well-trained African army, a functioning
666
customhouse, and scrupulous European personnel, and profited from their trade.
According to Martinho, the Iberian Portuguese population in Portuguese Guinea did not
exceed more than six, who he despised because they colluded with the blacks.
667
As stated in chapter 4, during the mid-nineteenth century, in Cape Verde, the local
government urged regular communication between the islands and the coast, which
Franco, then governor of Cape Verde, acknowledged was beneficial for commerce.
668
In
addition, Franco emphasized that the disorganization of Portuguese Guinea must be
669
resolved immediately.
In part, this was also due to the lack of “frequent
communication” between praças of Cacheu and Bissau.
670
Evidently, some
governmental officials participated in trade and other activities rather than administration.
In 1861, for instance, Francisco Alves Barbosa, head clerk of the Bissau customhouse,
665
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 107–8.
Martinho was speaking from experience since he served in Angola, Mozambique and
Goa.
666
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 104–5.
667
668
669
670
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 105.
BOGGCV, 1861, No. 42, 181.
BOGGCV, 1861, No. 42, 181.
Peças Officiaes Cuja Publicação Se Achva em Atraso, Continuando do numero
antecedent: BOGGCV, Numero 11, 1862, 89.
233
671
requested for a three-month leave of absence to resolve a business venture in Praia.
In
Bissau, the court condemned João Antonio Lopes da Costa, the clerk of county
administration and the municipal commission, of “abuse of authority.”
672
The colonial
government in Cape Verde emphasized the lack of implementation of public instruction
by the different counties of Portuguese Guinea.
673
Consequently, these types of
behaviors promoted inefficiency and poor “moral education.” Moreover, the governor of
Cape Verde recommended establishiung a public force for the security of the Bissau
674
praça.
Furthermore, a leaky roof of the gunpowder storage required repair, the cost of
which was estimated at 24,800 réis. Other maintenance in military installations required
work that would cost 158,580 réis.
676
based in Portuguese Guinea.
675
Finally, there were few provisions for soldiers
In Cacheu and Bissau, the military force was relatively
superior to other garrisons, such as Geba and Ziguinchor. In order to increase revenue, in
1862, Franco urged the implementation of the 1858 legislation land tax as well as tariffs
on healthy slaves in Portuguese Guinea.
677
The traders in Bissau, however, opposed this
678
tariff in 1863.
671
672
673
674
BOGGCV, 1861, No. 45, 199.
Continuado do numero antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, 28.
Continuado do numero antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, 38.
Peças Officiaes Cuja Publicação Se Achava en Atraso Continuando do Numero
Antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 8, 1862, 55.
675
BOGGCV, Numero 9, 1862, 59.
676
677
678
BOGGCV, Numero 10, 1862, 73.
BOGGCV, Numero 13, 1863, 69; BOGGCV, Numero 35, 1863, 167.
BOGGCV, Numero 14, 1863, 73.
234
Another major concern was the health services for Portuguese Guinea and Cape
Verde. In July 1862, the Ministry of Overseas Trade underlined the gravity of the public
679
health problems on the islands Sal, Santo Antão, Fogo, Cacheu and other locations.
Because these places lacked health professionals, when a cholera epidemic broke our in
1856, for example, it devastated Cape Verde and killed the only surgeon in São
Vicente.
680
681
A greater proportion of the population who died from cholera was slaves.
Moreover, the government recalled the 1845 epidemics of cholera morbus, yellow fever,
scurvy, and pernicious [anemia], during which thousands of people in Cape Verde and
682
Portuguese Guinea died.
According to Portuguese authorities, in Igboland, in 1859,
around 1,000 people died supposedly without recourse to medical help. Therefore, the
authorities stressed that Cape Verde should have a solid health infrastructure. In March
1862, António Maria Maurity resigned his interim governorship position due to health
683
reasons.
In the Cacheu praça, people did not have access to Western biomedicine,
684
which meant the death of many people.
In contrast, Bissau had a pharmacy, but
transporting medicines to other Portuguese settlements was difficult. Carlos Frederico
679
680
681
BOGGCV, Numero 7, 1862, 40.
BOGGCV, Numero 7, 1862, 40.
BOGGCV, Numero 191, 1856, Sexta Feira 6 de Junho, 850; Henrique Lubrano de
Santa-Rita Viera, O História de Medicina em Cabo Verde (Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto
Caboverdiano do Livro e do Disco, 1987), 291.
682
BOGGCV, Numero 7, 1862, 40.
683
684
Continuado do numero antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, 36.
BOGGCV, Numero 13, 1863, 69.
235
685
Hopffer underscored that a clinic in Cacheu would cost 20,000 réis a month.
Given
the reality, Portuguese subjects presumably relied on African medicine.
The fledging colony also experienced problems regarding primary education
686
Bissau. They did not possess a building, an instructor, or pedagogic materials.
João
Marques de Barros, a wealthy merchant and nephew of Caetano Nozolini, offered his
house for a year; João da Cruz e Silva, a vicar, volunteered to be the instructor for a
primary school.
687
Due to the lack of educational facilities on the coast, for studies that
were more advanced and qualifying examination, the children of the elites from
Portuguese Guinea went to Province of Cape Verde.
688
For example, Heitor da Silva
Barreto, who was 14, went to Cape Verde to continue his primary educaiton, and
689
Lourenço Justiniao Padrel, age 12, went to study French.
In addition to these internal challenges, African communities also hampered the
expansion and consolidation of Portuguese Guinea.
Kinship and Connections between Cape Verdeans and Luso-Africans/Africans
Reminiscent of Luso-tropicalist trope of racial democracy, António Carreira
suggests that a Cape Verdean epitomizes the “fusion of Portuguese blood in the tropics,”
and is emblematic of “the history of Portuguese expansion in West Africa is,
685
686
687
688
689
BOGGCV, Numero 13, 1863, 69.
Continuado do numero antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, 37.
Continuado do numero antecedente, BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, 37.
BOGGCV, Numero 10, 1863, 58.
BOGGCV, Numero 10, 1863, 58.
236
690
simultaneously, the history of penetration of Cape Verdean in the African continent.”
Black and mestiços Cape Verdeans
691
were essential in the Portuguese commercial
penetration on the coast because Europeans were few and more susceptible to local
692
diseases.
During the era of the Atlantic slave trade, some Cape Verdeans would play
significant roles as colonizers of Portuguese Guinea, particularly as soldiers and
merchants.
The Nozolini were a powerful and influential family in Fogo, Cape Verde, and
Portuguese Guinea. Nozolini was a lieutenant colonel in the praça of Bissau and a major
slave smuggler, which I will discuss below in this section. In 1846, Caetano José
Nozolini
693
sent winnowed rice—separated grain from the husk--- weighing 625 arrobas
690
António Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa na Á Compreendida
entre o Rio Senegal e O Norte da Serra Leoa (Subsídios para o seu estudo). Separata da
«Actas do Congresso International de Ethnografia», Promovido Pela Câmara Municipal
de Santo Tirso, de 10 a 18 de Julho de 1963. Volume Quarto (Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de
Investigações do Ultramar, 1965), 2.
691
Historically, it is more appropriate to describe them as Portuguese subjects, since
they were under Portuguese control, but I opt cautiously for the category, “Cape
Verdean” to convey the cultural formations that proceeded independence.
692
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 2.
693
There are variations of the spelling of
“Nozolini”/”Nosolini”/”Nosoline”/”Nazolini”/”Nozoliny.” In Ceméterio de Preto [Black
Cemetary] in São Filipe, Fogo, there is a Caetano José Nozoliny, who was born on April
16, 1854 and died April 22, 1928. Was this a relative of Caetano José Nozolini? Given
that he was interned in the Black Cemetary, was Nozoliny the slave Nozolini? They were
not the same person: Caetano José Nozolini was in Portuguese Guinea well before José
Caetano Nozoliny was born. In the Black Cemetary, there is an Ana Luzia Nozoliny who
was born March 25, 1854 and died October 12, 1943. Given that the Nozoliny and not
Nozolini/Nozoline are buried in Black Cemetery and not one Nozolini/Nozoline was
found lends credence to Philip Havik’s assertion that in Guinea-Bissau Nozoliny are
reputed to be the descendants of slaves; see Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 554n, 287.
However, António Carreira spelled the name of the notorious Caetano José Nozoliny,
rather than Nozolini. Thus, it is difficult to confirm Havik’s comments. Nevertheless, in
the baptismal records of the daughters of Caetano José Nozolini, his surname and that of
237
694
to alleviate the suffering in Fogo (“his country”
) that was occurring because of
colonial indifference and racism. His father, a sailor from Italy, married an “heiress” from
695
Fogo.
According to Joaquim Pereira Martinho, then governor of Cape Verde,
Nozolini married Aurélia Correia, a member of an aristocratic family from Orango Island
in the Bijago archipelago.
696
In 1843, while in Praia, their daughter, Dona Eugenia
Aurelia Nozolini, born in Bissau, married António Joaquim Ferreira of Lisbon.
697
Upon
her marriage, she received a rice and groundnut ponta Casaria (or Casadia) at Ametite in
Portuguese Guinea.
698
In the 1850s, a governor of Cape Verde who visited the ponta
699
noted their hospitality.
In 1856, another daughter of Nozolini, Dona Getrudes Aurelio
Correio Nozolini, native of Bissau but living in Praia, married José Fernandes da Silva
Leão of Setubae, Portugal.
700
Hence, in Cape Verde, Luso-African women from Guinea
appear to have associated with Iberian Portuguese men in Cape Verde, who were quite
influential there. In the baptism records, both women were referred to with the honorific
title of dona, which indicated their powerful status in colonial Cape Verdean society.
his wife are spelled with a “y,” but the letters “y” and “i” were interchangeable in
Portuguese paleography.
694
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 5, 1/3, “Correspondência da Guiné-Bissau, JaneiroOutubro 1846; 3 peças; originais manuscritos.” Folhas avulsas.
695
Turano, ‘Il verde mare delle tenebre,’ 67.
696
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho & Outros
Textos, Daniel A. Pereira, apresentação, notas e comentários (Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto
Camões-Centro Cultural Português, 2008), 103.
697
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 44, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Casamentos,
Freguesia de Nossa Senhora da Graça, 6 de Abril de 1807 a 22 de Maio de 1864, f.209.
Originais manuscritos. Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde, Praia.
698
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 513n, 273; original (AHU, CV, P.21, 4-9-1856).
699
700
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 513n, 273; original (AHU, CV, P.21, 4-9-1856).
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 44, Registo Civil da Praia, f.254.
238
On the other hand, Luso-African women from Guinea also married Cape
Verdean-born men. For instance, in April 1871, Guilhermina Maria de Carvalho and
Gregorio Pereira Furtado de Mendonça married in Praia.
701
Guilhermina was a native of
Nossa Senhora da Luz (Our Lady of Light) parish of Ziguinchor; Gregorio was native of
702
São Nicolau Tolentino (Saint Nicolas Tolentino) parish of Santiago Island.
Guilhermina’s parents were Caetano Alberto de Carvalho of Guinea and Anna Balbina de
Carvalho of Santiago Island, which means that Guilhermina had Guinean and Cape
Verdean ancestry.
703
Most likely, these grooms were brankus di terra. As Philip Havik
noted, the gender dimension of the Afro-Atlantic trade favored African and Luso-African
women because their societies were receptive to women as traders. Given that
Guilhermina was in Cape Verde and married to a Cape Verdean-born man probably
enabled her to climb the social ladder and take advantage of her Guinean roots. However,
Luso-African men from Portuguese Guinea were absent in marriage certificates in Cape
Verde. Cape Verdean men, like Caetano José Nozolini, may have sent their daughters for
schooling and to look after their businesses back in Cape Verde.
On the mainland, given that African sovereignty was preeminent, preto and
mestiço Cape Verdeans as well as Portuguese men overwhelmingly married—or had
intimate relation with—local Luso-African and African women, which provided access to
networks, among other things. The record is silent on Portuguese and/or Cape Verdean
701
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 45, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Casamentos,
Freguesia de Nossa Senhora da Graça, 20 de Junho de 1864 a 20 de Dezembro 1881;
f.22; originais manuscritos incompletos.
702
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 45, Registo Civil da Praia, f.22.
703
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 45, Registo Civil da Praia, f.22.
239
women marrying Luso-African or African men in Portuguese Guinea. We can infer that
elite Cape Verdean mestiços and pretos and Portuguese women did not travel in large
numbers to Upper Guinea; and if they did, they were already in relationships.
704
Maybe
their purity (“whiteness”) and respectability were under patriarchal supervision to prevent
contamination in the tropics or uncivilized lands.
In Cape Verde, it was not only elite men, whether Cape Verdean or Portuguese,
wedding elite Luso-African women from Guinea, but also people of low status did
likewise. In 1816, for instance, Luís Gomes, a slave, and Antonia de Barros, free person,
705
both from Guinea, married in Praia.
Perhaps they married because both were from
Guinea. However, there must have been a motive for the slave owner of Luís to allow the
wedding, such as a reward for loyalty and diligence. In 1817, Matheus Cardozo, a native
of Guiné, and Sepriana Cardozo, a native of Santiago Island, married in Praia.
706
The
groom was from Guinea, which problematizes the Havik’s gender analysis. Was Matheus
a Luso-African, and if so was he marrying an elite or low-status woman? Sepriana must
have been an elite woman, because she was not listed as a slave or liberto, whereas
Matheus seems to have been Luso-African, because he was born in Guinea, but went to
Cape Verde and married a free woman in Praia, the capital. Another interesting marriage
707
in Praia was between João da Silva and Catharina Correa, both from Guinea, in 1871.
João was baptized in Guinea, whereas Catharina was baptized in Cacheu. The marriage
704
The poor classes of Cape Verde who did immigrate as either forced laborers or
escaping famine were not readily identifiable by elites recording events in Portuguese
Guinea.
705
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 44, Registo Civil da Praia, f.177.
706
707
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 44, Registo Civil da Praia, f.177.
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 45, Registo Civil da Praia, f.23.
240
certificate described their parents as gentios, i.e., Africans who had not been assimilated
into Portuguese culture and Christianity. Although we do not know their ethnicity, they
were probably Kristons (Christianized Africans), who married due to religious and a
broad regional Upper Guinea cultural affiliation. Gerhard Seibert argues that the Kristons
from Guinea Bissau region never were completely “ethnicized” to a new ethnic identity,
708
because they were aware of their Beafada ancestry.
Kristons and grumetes were
socially mobile in the Portuguese Empire. All these marriages show the cementing of
kinship between the mainland and the islands, which would be a decisive for establishing
commercial network, despite the islanders’ meager resources.
With the transition from slave trade to “legitimate” trade, there was deepening of
cultural exchange between Cape Verde and the mainland, particularly with the rise of
peanut production. Cape Verdeans settled in Santa Maria, in Gambia; Ziguinchor, Selho,
and Coldá, in Casamansa River; Bolor, Ossor, São Domingos, Cacheu, and Farim, in
Cacheu River (Farim); Bissau, Sambelchior, Jabadá, Geba, and Bafatá, in the Geba River
region; Buba, Bafatá of Buba, and Bolola, in the region of the River Grande (also known
as the Buba, Guinala, or Bolola River); and in settlements near the rivers of Nuno and
709
Pongo in former French Guinea.
According to António Carreira, between 1830 and
1885, Cape Verdeans or their descendants in Portuguese Guinea owned the majority of
708
Gerhard Seibert, “Creolization and Creole Communities in the Portuguese Atlantic:
São Tomé, Cape Verde, the Rivers of Guinea and Central Africa in Comparison,” in
Brokers of Change, Atlantic Commerce and Cultures in Precolonial Western Africa, ed.
Toby Green (London: British Academy, 2012; published by arranged by Oxford
University Press), 50.
709
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 2.
241
710
the eighty pontas or feitorias (trading posts) in Rio Grande de Buba.
The Portuguese,
French, and English also owned some feitorias as well. The names of the pontas
(feitorias) were based on the owners’ origins, such as
São Filipe, Santo Antão, Santiago, Santa Luzia, Brava, Fogo and Boa
Vista, all names of towns and islands of the archipelago; Santa Maria, São
João, São Jorge, São Miguel, Nossa Senhora da Ajuda, São Francisco,
were names of places in some of the islands and saint devoted to by Cape
Verdeans; Ponta Benjamin had names or surnames of Cape Verdean
711
family well known;
Ponta Oeste, in the island of Bolama, was the
property of a notable family, part of them Cape Verdean family of Osório
da Silva Leão; Gã Major, belong to Aurélia Correia, who was married to
712
Caetano José Nosolini.
Carreia argues that the Portuguese and Cape Verdeans were catalysts for the
spread of Portuguese and Luso-derived surnames in Portuguese Guinea, especially in
Cacheu, Geba, Bolama, and Bissau, which included “Barreto, Barreto da Costa, Barreto
de Carvalho, Gomes Barbosa, Carvalho or Carvalho de Alvarenga, Monteiro Barbosa,
Barbosa, Correia, Gomes, Soares, Gomes de Araújo, Santy, Fernandes, Barbosá, Corêa,
713
Suarez, Fernande, Gomis, Prera, Santo.”
Although Luso-Africans and Cape Verdeans
had deep kinship ties, Carlos Lopes argues these groups had common as well as divergent
710
711
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 2–3.
António Carreira was born in Fogo in the early 1900s, but left around age 8 and
moved to Portuguese Guinea and grew up in the interior. His father was Portuguese and
his mother was from Fogo. Carreira was fluent in Fula and Mandinka and understood
Mandjaco. Thus, some of his writings about this were based on personal experiences.
712
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 3.
713
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 4–5. Leopold Sedar Senghor
claims that his surname is from the Portuguese word for “mister” (Senhor); see, Pélisser
História da Guiné, preface, 19; Moreover, the Manjaco surname “Mendy” is believed by
some to be from the Portuguese “Mendes” and “Wade,” common surnames in Senegal,
could be derived from the British surname Wade.
242
714
interests.
For instance, Luso-Africans dominated the feitorias in Cacheu, Zinguinchor,
and the mouth of the Gambia River, whereas Cape Verdeans controlled the feitorias in
Bissau and Rio Grande.
One of the most infamous Luso-Africans of Cape Verdean and Guinean
ascendancy was Honório Pereira Barreto. In April 1813, Dona Rosa de Carvalho
Alvarenga, a native of Ziguinchor, gave birth to Honório Pereira Barreto in Cacheu.
715
His father was João Pereira Barreto of Santiago Island. Given his privileged LusoAfrican status, as a young teenager, Barreto initially matriculated at the University of
Coimbra, one of the oldest universities in Portugal. In 1829, Barreto returned to his native
land to manage the family enterprise after his father’s death. His rise to power in
Portuguese Guinea was remarkable. Barreto began an ombudsman of Cacheu; in 1850, he
became governor of Portuguese Guinea. Given that his mother’s background was from
Ziguinchor, it is not surprising that Barreto was “known as the defender of Casamance,
716
which was lost due the metropolitan’s indifference.”
By the time of his death from
malaria cachexia in Bissau in April 1859, Barreto’s positions included lieutenant colonel
of the province of Cape Verde, Commander of the Order of Christ, Knight of the Orders
of Christ and the Tower and Sword.
714
Carlos Lopes, “Construção de Identidades nos Rios de Guiné do Cabo Verde,”
Africana Studia, N.º 6, 2003, Edição da Faculdade de Letras da Universidade do Porto),
59. Lopes refers to “Luso-African” as “Afro-Portuguese,” which is an older term.
715
Maria Cristina Neto, Os Negros em Portugal-sécs.xva-xix (Commissão para as
Comemorações dos Descobrimentos Portugueses, 1999), 228.
716
Neto, Os Negros em Portugal, 228.
243
From Portuguese Guinea, elite Cape Verdeans, some Luso-Africans, and a few
Europeans would send food aid to the islands of their birth.
717
In 1860, a subscription
that raised donations to buy rice in Bissau for Brava. Subscribers included J. M. Barros, J.
M. de Macedo [João Monteiro de Macedo], French anonymous, F. Jackson, J. J. VeraCruz, G.C. Pinto, F. J. Benicio [Francisco José Benicio], P. G. Barboza, L. C. Teixeira,
C. Martins, M. A. Medina, D. M. de Moraes, J. F. S. Leão, C. G. Barbosa Junior, L. J.
Barbosa, L. A. Augusto, J. J. Oliveira, O. J. Araujo, A. L. Lima, C. Medina, and F.
Macedo.
718
With the exception for the Frenchman, the subscribers were from Brava or
had kinship connections. Havik suggests that public subscriptions were held because
individuals did not own ships to send fresh crops to the islands.
719
Their names reflect
the prominent surnames that Africans in Portuguese Guinea would end up adopting.
These elite Cape Verdeans and Luso-Africans became quite involved in slave
smuggling, under the creeping British surveillance. As stated in chapter 4, the British
abolition of the Atlantic slave trade in 1807 had a crippling effect not only in the
Americas, but also in Africa, such as Upper Guinea. The British, supposedly in
consultation with the faring (king), of Binagar and Beafadas, agreed to the abolition the
slave trade and slavery in Binagar and Beafadas.
720
There were six specific stipulations.
717
To this day, remittances from the Cape Verdean diaspora continue to be a major
source of assistance for Cape Verdeans.
718
Boletim Official,de Governo Geral de Provincia de Cabo Verde (BOGGCV),
Numero 7 (1861): 27; Biblioteca Nacional e Livros de Cabo Verde, Praia, Santiago, Cabo
Verde.
719
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 295.
720
SGG, Livro 0700, “Títulos e papeis legais que provem a posse legal das possessões
portuguesas adquiridas na Costa da Guiné e no Arquipélago dos Bijagós. 1830/maio/071839/junho/05. 22/97 flas; cópias manuscritas, f.8v.
244
First, the British prohibited agricultural activities by anyone, native of Ghinala or
otherwise, in occupied territories of Ghinala. Second, the social classes would remain as
it were, but slaves (for exports) or domestics (slaves) would be “conducted outside the
frontier of Ghinala.”
721
Third, it prohibited Africans in Bolama, Ghinala, and all the
adjacent islands under British control from engaging in the slave trade. Fourth, British
vassals that wished to establish trading posts must pay value for the property. Fifth, the
sovereignty of Bolama, Ghinala, and adjacent islands would be ceded to Great Britain “to
establish settlement, forts, cultivation and other establishment for private or public use of
Serra Leone.”
722
Sixth, King Niobona Mattehora ceded his territories to the British in
August 1792 (ratification of the treaty was in June 1827). The British also directly dealt
with the Portuguese on the coast, resulting in series of treaties culminating in the LusoBritish Commission, based on Boavista, which was intended to prevent Portuguese
subjects from engaging in the slave trade, particularly in Sierra Leone region, that began
in the 1830s. At the same time, the Portuguese became more defensive with British
encroachments, ostensibly to end the slave trade and slavery in Upper Guinea—but
possible a pretext to occupy “historic” Portuguese possessions. Even so, Cape Verdean,
Luso-African, and Portuguese merchants evaded efforts to end the slave trade.
In 1863, Major Crato, interim governor of Portuguese Guinea, was skeptical of
723
the abolition of the trade on the coast.
As discussed in chapter 4, Major Crato was a
prominent slaveholder from Santiago. Crato was believed that officials in Portuguese
721
722
723
SGG, Livro 0700, f.8v.
SGG, Livro 0700, f.8v.
SGG, Cx. n.º 347, peça 7.
245
Guinea were more interested in the slave trade or commerce than ensuring the
functioning of the fledging colony. Some of these officials, such as Nozolini, were
prominent merchants, and dealt in contraband slaves. The transition from slave trade to
legitimate trade actually facilitated slavery within Africa. Portuguese Guinea fined two
724
captains, American and Portuguese, for smuggling various commodities.
Although
the British pressured the Portuguese to cease the illicit trade, it persisted with Portuguese,
American, Cape Verdean, and Brazilians as well as in indigenous coastal communities.
In 1858, a decree required that the slave owners register their slaves, including the
sex and residency.
725
In Portuguese Guinea, especially Cacheu, Bissau, Farim, and Rio
Grande de Bolola, the administration recorded lists of manumitted slaves, without
providing those still enslaved. The praça of Bissau in 1869 had thirty-three liberated
slaves.
726
727
Bolola;
That year, there were only ten manumitted slaves in the Rio Grande de
the garrison of Geba, plantations of São Belchior, and Chime manumitted
only six slaves.
728
In 1869, the praça of Cacheu had 112 liberated slaves, which was the
729
most of any area.
This illustrate that Cacheu was a major commercial region for the
Portuguese because slave labor was significant there to help operate the trading posts
there. George Brooks argues that “the founding and rapid growth of Cacheu at the close
724
SGG, Cx. n.º 347, peça n.º 5, 1/3, “Correspondência da Guiné-Bissau, JaneiroOutubro 1846; 3 peças; originais manuscritos, folhas avulsas.
725
BOGGCV, 1863, numero 35, 167.
726
727
728
729
BOGGCV, 1872, No.35, 193.
BOGGCV, 1872, No.39, 215.
BOGGCV, 1872, No.39, 216.
Boletim Official do Governo Geral da Provincia de Cabo-Verde (BOGGCV), no. 37
(1872): 204.
246
of the sixteenth century derived from the Cacheu River being a meeting place of the four
most important commercial networks in western Africa: Beafada-Sapi, Banyun-Bak,
Mande, and Cabo Verdean-lançado.”
730
In 1869, the overwhelming majority of libertos of the praça of Cacheu had only
first names; European or “Christian” names accounted for 105. Those with African
names were Ajaque, Sam-frança, and two individuals with the name Cumbá, and the rest
were Jabú, Maladó, and Taço. Others had African-derived surnames, such as Maria
Sabbado, which was common in Cape Verde as well. Renowned merchants usually were
usually both sold and employed slaves. For example, José Dias de Moura had at least
seventeen slaves; Eugenia Guilhermina Miranda Lopes had at least eleven slaves;
Francisco José Benicio had at least fourteen slaves; José da Silva Santos Costa had at
least eight slaves; Dona Luiza Dias de Moura had at least eight slaves. Paulo Monteiro
d’Affonseca had at least seven slaves. In praça of Cacheu, slaves fled to Africans
villages, such as Cacanda, which was dominated by the Papel community, but they were
731
captured and resold.
João Monteiro de Macedo (March 12, 1852–February 21, 1925) was a prominent
merchant from Fogo based in Portuguese Guinea. In Fogo, Macedo’s tomb is at the
White Cemetery (Cemetário de Brancos) in São Filipe, the main city of Fogo, Cape
730
George E. Brooks, “Cacheu: A Papal and Luso-African Entrepôt at the Bexus of the
Biafada-Sapi and Banyun-Bak Trade Networks,” in Mansas, Escravos, Grumetes e
Gentio: Cacheu na encruzilhada de civilizações (Bissau, Guinea-Bissau: Instituto
Nacional de Estudos e Pesquisa, coordenação Carlos Lopes, 1993), 175.
731
SGG, Cx. n.347, folhas avulsas.
247
Verde.
732
The White Cemetery was for white people, originally Iberian Portuguese,
which symbolized their wealth as well as their efforts to maintain their purity through this
spatial separation, even in the afterlife. Even among the whites, Macedo’s was the “cream
of the crop” with his huge mausoleum. Macedo’s wife was Ana Botelho de Macedo
(January 2, 1854–August 8, 1927). They had four children: Maria, Luiza, Antonio, and
Abilio. In island of Fogo, there was a Feliberto Monteiro de Macedo, described as native
733
from Guinea and listed as a godfather to a slave.
Perhaps, Feliberto Monteiro de
Macedo was a relative of João Monteiro de Macedo. In 1870, in Rio Grande de Bolola,
Macedo manumitted two slaves, Uecadó and Fula.
734
In addition, in 1870, in the praça
of Bissau, João Marques de Barros manumitted Izabel Sabbado, Adelaide, Canhanguete,
and Agostinho Intimbi, but in 1872, Macedo purchased their service from Barros, since
735
as libertos they had to complete the seven years mandatory service.
A less well-known merchant from Fogo was Cezar Gomes Barboza, who was
736
marrived to Anna Teixeira Barboza.
Bissau.
737
In 1870, Cezar manumitted Tai in the praça of
On July 9, 1871, Anna gave birth to João Gomes Barboza, who was born on
board the Brigue Ligeiro on July 9, 1871, but died that year. His parents buried him in the
White Cemetery of Fogo. Almost certainly, Cezar Gomes Barboza and Anna, his wife,
732
733
I visited the cemetery in June 2012.
Caixa n.º2, peça n.º 9 Registo Civil do Fogo, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de
Nossa Senhora da Conceição, 05 de Maio de 1852 a 06 de Abril de 1862, f.77v. originais
manuscritos, Arquivo Histórico Nacional de Cabo Verde, Praia.
734
BOGGCV, 1872, no.39, 215.
735
736
737
BOGGCV, 1872, Nº 35, 193.
I visited the White Cemetery in Fogo in June 2012.
BOGGCV, 1872, No.35, 193.
248
were either visiting or permanently returning home from Portuguese Guinea. Officials in
Portuguese Guinea sometimes requested leaves of absence for commercial or health
reasons.
Another merchant from Fogo in Portuguese Guinea was Caetano Carlos de
Medina, who was married to Isabel Teixeira.
738
Their son, Adriano Carlos Medina, was
buried in the White Cemetery. Adriano was born March 28, 1887. His place of birth was
not listed—this was done only for those born outside of the island, which suggests that
his parents came back home from Portuguese Guinea. Adriano’s wife was Amalia, who
was the daughter of Maria Marcelina Nozolini and António José Barbosa. Fogo oral
tradition emphasizes that these families actually had cousins marry cousins to preserve
their wealth and whiteness.
Caetano José Nosolini was a resident of Bissau and Joaquim António de Matos
was a resident in Ponta Oeste (Bolama island). Both were coronels of the second line,
which was reserved for those born in Cape Verde, (whereas the first line was only for
Iberian Portuguese). Joaquim António de Matos had a son, Joaquim António Pusich de
739
Matos, who resided in island of Galinhas.
Martinho claimed that the Portuguese had
claim to the islands of Galinhas and Bolama, but the English confiscated Galinhas
because of Caetano Jozé Nozolini, “one of the most rascal of smuggler from Portugal in
740
her colonies,” for possessing slaves for domestic use and export.
738
739
The British seized
BOGGCV, no. 35 (1872): 193.
Carreira, “O Tráfico clandestine de escravos na Guiné e em Cabo Verde,” 17;
Brooks, Eurafricans in Western Africa (2003); Havik, Silences and Soundbytes (2004);
Hawthorne, Planting Rice and Harvesting Slaves (2003).
740
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 102.
249
the island of Bolama, claiming it in an act of abolitionism, which Martinho
contemptuously denied: he felt it was a pretext to diminish Portuguese Guinea. Martinho
argued that Caetano José Nozolini’s association with a “black woman from the Bijagos
enabled his fortune.”
741
Nozolini supposedly wooed her away from another Portuguese
742
and they had a “mulatto” girl.
African women enabled strangers like Nozolini to tap
an elaborate African network, while Nozolini provided the Atlantic connection from the
Americas and Portugal. Nozolini had “powerful protection from Manoel António Martins
743
and [Pinto] the Secretary of Overseas.”
Backed by powerful white men, Nozolini
violated the Decree of December 10, 1836, which regulated slavery with Portuguese
colonies and prohibited the slave trade outside of Portuguese territory. Martinho argued
that he was the main supplier (along with a man named Fontes) of a “society of
smugglers of slaves to São Thiago de Cuba.”
744
Turano emphasized that Nozolini “sent
ships both in Cuba and in Brazil by buying goods from the British on the Gambia River
and paying with checks from reputable company in London (e.g., Baring Brothers) and
subsequently exchanged these goods for slaves in its territories.”
745
Nozolini ignored the
orders from Martinho and with Fontes and Pinto provided slaves to Don Jozé Benso of
741
742
743
744
745
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
Turano, ‘Il verde mare delle tenebre,’ 67.
250
746
São de Cuba.
Honório Pereira Barreto, a powerful slave trader based in Casamance,
assisted Nozolini in smuggling before replacing him as governor of Bissau in 1850.
747
In March 1844, the [Mandinka] king of Corubal acknowledged that Mamoto
Sanha, his predecessor, had “ceded” land to Lieutenant Colonel Caetano José Nozolini
748
“to build a house and cultivate the land.”
In fact, Nozolini bought the land from
Mamoto Sanha to establish a settlement, fortifications, and trading factory.
749
It included
parts of the Rio de Corubal and Chime River, with two isles north to the mouth of Geba
River. In appreciation, Nozolini gave Sanha 400 patacas,
750
a currency that circulated in
the Portuguese Empire. Nozolini gave Sanha’s successor a gift of dress “equivalent to the
value of four slaves.” Two African dignitaries signed their names in Arabic scripts to the
treaty, which shows that they were Islamized.
Nozolini owned a Frenchman, named Noumaige, but rather than repay him, he
tried to assassinate the Frenchman, triggering disastrous retaliation against the Portuguese
by the French from the colony of Senegal, which compelled Martinho to make
751
restitution.
Another the elusive smuggler was Chaves of Lisbon, who was based in
Cacheu. In 1872, the praça of Cacheu, “heirs of António dos Santos Chaves” had only
one liberto.
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
752
Unless both smugglers were stopped, Martinho lamented, Portuguese
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
Turano, ‘Il verde mare delle tenebre,’ 68.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peças 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103.
BOGGCV, no. 37 (1872): 204.
251
Guinea would be ungovernable.
753
Before his appointment, Martinho argued that 16,000
réis was spent on Portuguese Guinea, but troops only had an “old map,” which they
“fooled the governor general with,” and that the troops collaborated with Junta of
754
Agriculture in stealing.
Although he reduced the expenditure to 8,000 réis, Martiho
believed that it was judiciously spent.
In addition to Fogo’s connection with the slave trade from Portuguese Guinea,
there were other islands. The Luso-British Mixed Commission identified Santiago
residents who were involved in illicit slave trade to Cuba and Brazil. They included
Francisco Cardoso de Melo, his brother Thimóteo Cardoso de Melo, Luis Pereira de
Melo, João José Cláudio de Lima, José Caetano Henriques dos Reis, Manuel de Brito
Lima, António Dionízio Furtado, João Batista Ferreira dos Santos, João António Ribeiro,
755
and Fernando de Sá Brandão.
Joye Bowman notes that:
In some parts of Portuguese Guinea, especially on Bolama Island and in
the neighboring region of Forria, merchant elites reorganized themselves
and their supporters to meet simultaneously the new demands for
“legitimate commerce” and also those of the trade in human beings.
Between 1840 and 1885 many of these merchants doubled as owners of
plantations or feitorias, which employed both contract and slave labor to
produce peanuts, coffee, sugar cane, tobacco and cotton. By the 1860s,
756
peanuts had become the most important of these exported cash crops.
753
754
755
756
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 103–4.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 104.
Carreira, “O Tráfico clandestine de escravos na Guiné e em Cabo Verde, 17.
Joye Bowman, Ominous Transition: Commerce and colonial expansion in the
Senegambia and Guinea, 1857–1919 (Aldershot, UK: Avebury, 1997), 3.
252
Portuguese Hunger for Land and Access to Rivers
With the encroachment of French and British agents into Portuguese Guinea,
Portugal tried to renew the treaties that Barreto and others had succeeded in securing with
African rulers during the 1820s until his death in 1859, because the French and British
were attempting to establish treaties with these communities. According to Martinho,
governor of Cape Verde from 1835 to 1836, Portuguese Guinea consisted only of pontos
militares (military stations) in the region of the Rio Geba, Casamance, and São
757
Domingos, which included Bissau, Fá, Geba, Farim, Ziguinchor, and Cacheu.
Marinho thought that the combined land area of these pontos was about a third of the area
of Paço (3.49 square kilometers). Portugal did not control the rivers of Casamance and
São Domingos and paid adacha (tribute) to the king of Matta for ships anchoring in
758
Cacheu.
The Portuguese presence equated to coastal colonialism, but it was not the
classical territorial colonialism that went into the hinterland. During the early 1800s,
Portugal was interested in buying land rather than fighting an outright war with Africans.
In 1828, the Portuguese bought land from King Damião, who controlled the island of
Canhabaca, Bolama and King Fabião of Beafada who ruled in the in Rio Grande region
to build new installations, in the “rear of praça of Bissau to secure Portuguese dominion
and fruition of Bolama.”
757
758
759
The Portuguese tried to secure Bolama and initially
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho,101.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 101. Daniel
Pereira notes that that “adacha” was probably a corruption of the Portuguese word “taxa”
(tribute, tax etc.); see Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 22–38.
759
SGG, Livro 0700, “Títulos e papeis legais que provem a posse legal das possessões
portuguesas adquiridas na Costa da Guiné e no Arquipélago do Bijagós. 1830/maio/07–
1839/junho/05. 22/97fs.; cópias manuscritas; f.1v
253
attempted to base their colonial capitol there, in part due to the location and Britain’s
efforts in suppressing the slave trade. In order to cope with this and the transition to
legitimate trade, the Portuguese decided on a strategy that involved linking specific
points between Portuguese Guinea and Cape Verde.
In terms of geostrategic positions, Marinho wrote that the island of São Vicente
was par excellence as it relates to maritime as well as commercial activities because it
was the “center for the archipelago of Cape Verde and the coast of Africa from Senegal
760
to the Nuno River.”
Marinho also thought that the second most important geostrategic
location of the region was Ilheo do Rey, which was an island in Guinea-Bissau. These
two trading posts would be linked in two circuits: coming from Europe landing in São
Vicente, then arriving in Ilheo do Rey and departing from Ilheo do Rey on the African
761
coast, refueling in São Vicente before going to Europe or the Americas.
The creation
of Porto Grande in Mindelo, São Vicente, would link Europe with that part of Africa and
vice versa. Portuguese believed that São Vicente had good climate and one of the best
bays in the world. They counted on having French, British, and American ships stationing
there rather than risk the “unhealthy” and “dangerous” environments on mainland
762
Africa.
To implement this strategy, Barreto signed an accord with Ondató [Oudotô],
principal king of Bissau Island in 1838, in which the Portuguese “purchased” Isleo de
760
761
762
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 89.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 89.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 86–88.
254
763
Rey, adjacent to praça of Bissau and part of the Geba River.
Barreto wrote that the
equivalent value was eight slaves because “that was the only way Africans
understood.”
764
In terms of the momentary value of the time, it was about 4,000 réis
765
along with additional enticements for Ondató and his province chiefs.
From the
Portuguese perspective, this was a strategic location because the island of Bissau was
“situated at the mouth of the Geba River and the praça of Bissau” at the heart of a
766
booming trade network.
Among the Europeans, Portugal proclaimed that
“Portuguese” dominated the trade in this region. From an Atlantic perspective, this might
be true, but from an African viewpoint, the Kaabu kingdom in the interior was the
dominant power in the region. When the French began to encroach from Goreé, Martinho
led an expeditionary force to assert the Portuguese sovereignty of Bissau.
767
The British
occupied the Iheo de Rey on the condition that they conserve the sacred trees of the isle,
768
where the Papel held “religious ceremonies in every twelve years.”
had negotiated this earlier with the Papel.
The Portuguese
769
There were problems with construction of houses and fortification in the praça of
Bissau.
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
770
In a Portuguese settlement in Bissau, for example, the houses were so close to
SGG, Livro0700, f.10–f.10v; SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Livro 0700, f.10v–11.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 102.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 102.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Livro 0700, f.10v.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
255
the ditch that land was almost nonexistent. Portuguese Guinea had insufficient control
over the settlement, allowing Portuguese subjects to collaborate with different groups
based on their own interests. Martinho lamented that the settlement “feared and
respected” their African neighbors, particularly the Papel, rather than the Portuguese
771
authority.
According to Martinho, “Africans only respect force and as a result
Portuguese subjects and commerce in Bissau are always subject to caprice of the African
rulers.” Because of this, Martinho contended, “African subjects as well as Portuguese
subjects do not deserve protection and all of them are indolent and thieves.”
772
Martinho’s view was tainted by his view as an Iberian Portuguese who was a recent
arrival to the coast. Nonetheless, Iheo do Rey had natural defenses because it was
“isolated” and only required two gunboats to defend; in contrast, Bissau was expensive to
defend.
773
Martinho argued that it was a “salubrious” climate, unlike Bissau, which was
surrounded by rice paddies,
774
which attracted mosquitoes. Before relocating there,
Martinho recommended the construction of a fortification and a warehouse as essential
for the storage of merchandise. The Portuguese also advocated that the isle be their new
headquarters, which required that the Portuguese and the Africans have amicable
relations.
775
Restoration of the Portuguese position was wrought with difficulties given
their unsuccessful attempts at the collection of tariffs from Europeans and Africans.
Martinho noticed that the island of Galinhas was an ideal place for a settlement because it
771
772
773
774
775
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 102.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 107.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
256
was flat, abundant in trees, had natural defenses, and had high-quality clay for the
production of potteries and construction in Ilheo de Rey.
776
Moreover, it was ideal for
growing cotton, sugarcane, coffee, and manioc (rather than relying on only rice, which
777
produced so many mosquitoes).
The Portuguese sought to establish alliances, treaties, and amicable relations with
various independent communities in order to have unhindered access from the Geba to
the Casamance Rivers. The Portuguese had to deal with resilient small-scale and
centralized coastal communities. Although some African communities demanded more in
the treaties, particularly from smaller and weaker groups, but other groups asked for
limited concessions.
In 1835, Barreto had signed a treaty with Jagulo, king of Bolor, through which the
Portuguese acquired fortified territories in Bolor
778
in the northwestern part of present-
day Guinea-Bissau. There were ten articles to this treaty. First, Jagulo ceded to Portugal
the fortified territory to the limits of the Bolor River “for ever, without restriction.”
Second, non-Portuguese ships must pay fees to the customhouse of Portuguese Guinea.
Third, although Portuguese subjects could conduct trade on their farms in Bolor territory,
other Europeans were restricted to trade on board their ships. Fourth, Portuguese ships
were not required to pay for anchorage, but other European ships were obligated to give
“to the king of Bolor a bar of iron, a bottle of gunpowder and two bottles of aguardente.”
Fifth, Portuguese Guinea must annually render to the king of Bolor four barrels of iron,
776
777
778
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 107.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 107.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; 1/41, “Tratados e contratos do Governo da Guiné
Portuguesa, 1828–1879,” 1.5cm; originais e cópias manuscritos. Folhas avulsas.
257
eight bottles of aguardente, four bottles of gunpowder. Given the increased cycle of
violence and the commercial opportunities of the Atlantic slave trade, Africans employed
iron for manufacturing weaponry and agricultural tools to boost food production in order
to feed exportable slaves; and the old imported European guns were useless without
gunpowder. The chiefs, kings, and lineage heads drank the alcohol as well as using it for
religious ceremonies. Sixth, the Portuguese must defend the Bolor territory from internal
and external enemies. Seventh, Portuguese should punish any individual who attempted
to assault or harm the king or people of Bolor as well as any Floup, an ethnic group in the
area that harms subjects of the Portuguese fortified area. The Floup did not initially
participate in the slave trade, but were hostile and shunned Europeans.
779
Eighth, the
king of Bolor must relinquish any fugitive from Portuguese Guinea (hence people such as
degregados, slaves, libertos, and grumetes were fleeing from Portuguese Guinea). Ninth,
Portuguese subjects of the fortified territory in Bolor must be accompanied by African
citizens of Bolor to visit other areas. During the era of the Atlantic slave trade, in smallscale societies, Africans traveling outside their villages and towns usually went in groups
and were armed,
780
and Portuguese subjects were no exception to this rule, because most
were mestiços and pretos, meaning that they were not “white” and could be enslaved.
Tenth, “When a director of the bulwark territory of Bolor was nominated by Cape Verde,
779
This hostility continued into the nineteenth century. See, Linares, “Deferring to Trade
in Slaves: The Jola of Casamance, Senegal in Historical Perspective,” History in Africa
14 (1987): 113–39; Baum, Shrines of the Slave Trade.
780
Marrtin Klein, “State of the Field: Slavery” from Organization of American
Historian, http://156.56.25.5/meetings/2004/klein.html. See Hawthorne, Planting Rice
and Harvesting Slaves; Andrew Hubbell, "Patronage and Predation: A Social History of
Colonial Chieftaincies in a Chiefless Region--Sourougdougou ( Burkina Faso ), 1850–
1946,” Ph.D. diss., Stanford University, Stanford, CA, 1996.
258
they were obligated to give the king of Bolor a uniform consisting of red frock coat,
yellow buttons, ordinary hat, a panu, a long shirt, a handkerchief, but if the director was
781
nominated by Cacheu then, they do not have to provide a uniform.”
Perhaps the ruler
of Bolor believed that Cape Verde had access to foreign trade goods and reflected
African thinking that the archipelago also produced quality fabrics. As mentioned in
chapters 1 and 2, the color red was prized because it was difficult to make in Africa; the
European hat was a symbol of the Atlantic. Along with the other items, all were for
African rulers.
Further north was the Casamance region, where the Portuguese had a weaker
presence and the French were steadily asserting themselves. In August 1836, Honório
Pereira Barreto, a counselor in Cacheu, and Francisco Carvalho de Alvarenga, the
delegate of counselor and lieutenant commander of the Portuguese garrison in
Ziguinchor, signed a treaty with Hiabune, a king in Casamance, along with other lesser
782
kings there.
African kings granted territories in the area of Casamance River to
Portugal allowing them to build a new military post. A priest presided over the ceremony
and sang litanies for the occasion and afterwards, Barreto boldly shouted out three times
who dare opposed the Portuguese possessing this land to finalize the process.
Nonetheless, other African communities were not pleased about the Portuguese
presence. In 1845, Zigoches, thought to be Bañuns by Carreira,
781
782
783
783
who lived on the left
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; Folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3, Folhas avulsas.
Carreira, “O fundamento dos etnónimos na Guiné Portuguesa,” in Garcia de Orta,
vol.10 (n.º 2) (Lisbon, Portugal: 1962), 317, 322. Carreira suggests that Ziguinchor
derives its name from this group.
259
bank of the Casamance River, attacked a Portuguese canoe and took the crew
784
prisoner.
De Carvalho Alvarenga requested support from Crato, governor of Cacheu.
785
Crato in turn requested military assistance from Dom José Miguel de Noronha,
who
was brigadier governor of Cape Verde. Zigoches killed a crewman because they said the
786
Portuguese murdered one of theirs and that this is the custom of their land.
Crato
demanded that the Zigoche who performed the retaliatory killing and escaped to Farim to
come before the Portuguese authorit. However, once the suspected aggressor arrived, the
Zigoches declared war against the Portuguese during the rainy season, which was not the
custom given that it made fighting difficult with traveling and malaria was rampant.
Crato believed that the war against the Zigoches could not be sustained because the
Portuguese were already at war with another group and few residents remained in the
presidio of Ziguinchor. With many dead, the war waned, but the Zigoches attacked again
a canoe used by Honório Pereira Barretto who was traveling to the port of Gemberem.
The Zigoches held the crews for ransom and sold the confiscated commodities. Crato led
an expedition to recapture the crew. In the end, the Zigoches disappeared from
Portuguese surveillance.
Given that the Portuguese did not have a stronghold in Casamance and faced
independent African communities on the march towards Ziguinchor, they tried to
establish alliances in some strategic areas. In 1870, the Portuguese signed a treaty with
784
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½, “Correspondênica recebida do governo da praça de
cacheu; agosto-dezembro 1845; 2 peça; cópias manuscritos.” Folhas avulsas.
785
http://arqhist.exercito.pt/germil/details?id=94149.
786
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½; folhas avulsas.
260
787
the Baiotes of Nhambalam.
since 1843.
788
The Portuguese had not had relations with the Baiotes
The Portuguese were eager to reestablish friendly relations because the
area of the Baiotes had plenty of trees for timber. Moreover, it was easier to navigate
through Baiote land to Ziguinchor River to assist and supply Portuguese garrison in
Ziguinchor that were facing stiff French competition.
In 1835, Martinho wrote that he “took” the Geba River because “all the gold,
ivory, and gum that is exported to Casamance River come from Geba.” He would have
“absorbed all the riches of Casamance River and as such, accumulate all the commercial
operations.”
789
The Geba River was at the crossroads of the Bañun-Bak, Mande, and
Luso-African trading networks. Nonetheless, Martinho’s claim that he annexed the Geba
River was nothing but imperial hubris. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
Havik argues,
The silence surrounding Geba is due to the fact that the site was situated
on the interface between two geo-political areas, where states or ‘empires’
met. In fact, the lack of attention paid to the town also owes a great deal to
the existence of two imperial traditions, one African and associated with
Soninké and Mandé expansion to the coast, and the other Euro-Atlantic
and Afro-Portuguese, that penetrated the continent via its many rivers and
790
creeks, thus relegating Geba to an academic no-man’s land.
787
788
789
790
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho, 102.
Philip J. Havik, “The Port of Geba: At the Crossroads of Afro-Atlantic Trade and
Culture,” Mande Studies 9 (2007): 21.
261
In Mandinka oral tradition, Kelefa Saane, a celebrated heroic prince of Kaabu, who as a
791
young man molested princely women, was sold into slavery in Geba.
This tradition
hints that Geba could have been an important slave port during the era of the Atlantic
slave trade. Between 1840 and 1888, Carreira note that a surge in slave trade ensued
792
because of the war by the Fula against the Mandinka and the Beafadas.
During the
nineteenth century, the empires of the Portuguese and the Madinka, one coming from the
seas and the other from the interior, would overtly interact, engendering cooperation as
well as conflict.
The Portuguese increasingly interacted with the provinces of the Kaabu kingdom,
which was experiencing internal dissent against the mansa, ruler of the empire, based in
headquarter of Kansala. In June 1836, Major Captain João Nunes de Britto, a merchant
and commander in the district of Geba, was part of the Portuguese delegation.
793
The
Portuguese delegates met all the chiefs of the tabanka of Bricama at the mouth of the
Geba River. According to Britto, the chiefs of the Bricama announced the end of salt
transport on the river. There was plenty of salt on the north bank of the Geba River,
where a plethora of hostile kingdoms existed.
794
Before his coronation, King Faranba
alerted his neighbors and distant Mandinka polities of the deteriorating social scenery
negatively affecting commerce. However, he did not appeal to the ruler of Bricama,
because King Faranba had animosity toward Bricama that came from their reluctance to
791
Gordon Innes (ed. and tr.), Kelefa Saane: his career recounted by two Mandinka
bards (London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 1978).
792
Carreira, “O Tráfico clandestine de escravos na Guiné e em Cabo Verde no século
XIX” in Raízes, n.º 5/6, 1978, Ano 2 (Praia, Cape Verde: Imprensa Nacional), 32.
793
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; Folhas avulsas.
794
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; Folhas avulsas.
262
aid the king. In earlier days, Faranba said there was peace with all the inhabitants,
because the Soninkes (non-Islamic Mandinkas) worked within their profession, and
mouros (Juula; itinerant Mande Muslim traders) safely traveled. The Fula were treated
well, all had their “agency,” and in his land, there was tranquility, lack of robbery, and
hospitality to the white Christians, his neighbors, who ply the river in their canoes full of
money.
795
Due to the amicable relationship, the Portuguese could produce as much salt
as they needed, and they were allowed to sail as far as the ports of Bafata and Gansumá.
According to Britto, Faranba appealed for an alliance with the Portuguese, but Brito
believed that Faranba was being duplicitous. Although he desired peace, Britto believed
that the Portuguese should not have a partnership with Kaabu because of Faranba’s
inconsistency. Britto argued that the people of Geba might not bother “whites that were
masters of the seas, while Africans were masters of the land.” After Faranba’s coronation,
the delegates’ of the king of Bricama came with gifts of brandy to request an alliance
with the people of Kaabu against the Futa-Fulas, who desired war.
By the 1840s, the Mandinka states or vassals of Kaabu became less cooperative
and more belligerent. In December 1845, the Mandinkas of Canico, which borders
Casamance, attacked and burnt the settlements of the Portuguese in Lavapés, near the
Portuguese garrison in Farim, and captured more than twenty Portuguese subjects.
796
Crato responded to the plea of the Portuguese commander based in Farim and arrived
with eighteen people. The Mandinkas freed some people when Crato arrived. There was a
gathering with the people of Sancalanco, Dugutato, and the ruler of Fejangoto town,
795
796
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; Folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½; folhas avulsas.
263
which was “contiguous with the garrison.”
797
The ruler of Fejangoto had an “offensive
and defensive alliance” with the Portuguese in Farim, but the ruler of Fejangoto and other
Mandinkas pleaded with the Portuguese not to wage war. The latter said that the
Mandinkas of Canico should release all the captives and surrender the stolen merchandise
taken in Lavapés and never “insult” the Portuguese again, unless they wanted war. The
Portuguese were vulnerable and they tried to reinforce a strong wall by fastening pano to
the stalks, but there were few provisions and the dwellers were despondent.
In December 1845, the king of Fejangoto came along with others, including some
from Canico, and negotiated the return all the prisoners and some commodities.
798
On
January 2, 1846, the Portuguese received the remaining items. The king of Fejangoto did
not want the mouros of Canico to speak without the presence of Mandinkas, the “masters
of the land.” The mouros, as Muslims, might have had an antagonistic relationship with
Portuguese, who they viewed as competitors. The Portuguese demanded the perpetrators
turned over to them or else the affair was not resolved for them. So, on January 8, 1846,
King of Fejangoto and the Mandinkas of Sancalanco asked Crato to return to Cacheu
because the Mandinkas of Canico refused to return. They feared being arrested by him,
799
because there “did not exist casus belli” and that his presence was “impeding” trade.
The Mandinkas prohibited the Christians from returning to Lavapés, which suggests that
797
798
799
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½; folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½; folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½; folhas avulsas.
264
the mouros were influential. Figure 17 shows a Mandinka chief from the Guinea-Bissau
region in Islamic robe “accompanied by his sword bearer.”
800
Figure 17. A Mandinka Chief, 1850
(Source: Brantz Mayer, Captain Canot; or, Twenty years an African slaver…[New York,
1854], facing title page.)
In addition to the growing tension with some of the Mandinkas on the other side
of the bank of the Geba River, the Balantas were a formidable group that the Portuguese
(and the Mandinkas) had to confront. The people of Faramcunda had to rescue the
captives and stolen goods, because the Balanta usually sold the confiscated cows. They
also abducted whites because they cut down trees in the forests and other places. Balantas
redeemed the captives after receiving the monetary equivalent of one slave as well as
sixteen bottles of brandy and twenty-four panus. The Geba River was not safe because
800
http://hitchcock.itc.virginia.edu/Slavery/details.php?categorynum=2&categoryName=
PreColonial%20Africa:%20Society,%20Polity,%20Culture&theRecord=96&recordCoun
t=261.
265
enemies, such as Balanta, Zigoches, and Papels, would attack and confiscate goods, and
King Faranba regretted the deterioration of social relations and this was a huge
impediment to Portuguese commercial activities.
In the region of the Geba River, the Balanta were the major producer of salt,
which they traded with the Mandinka. Brito emphasized that making salt was more
appropriate on north bank rather than the south bank of the Geba River (the Portuguese
did not have access to the north bank because African groups blocked them). Because the
Portuguese wanted to profit from the salt production in Geba River, they strategized ways
to benefit the salt production by the Balanta. The Portuguese reasoned that it was futile to
attempt tax Balanta salt production because they did not have the manpower to enforce
801
it.
The Balanta communities were well-organized, armed, and fierce, and even the
Kaabu Empire was unable to conquer these small-scale societies. The Ministry of Navy
and Overseas reasoned that they should tax the product in transit from production site to
the marketplace. The Ministry continued by noting that “friendly relations” will
deteriorate due to the necessity of commerce and insisted that a systematic taxation of
goods that operate within Portuguese Guinea is necessary, even if the Portuguese did not
802
participate.
In order for treaties with an array of African communities that often spoke
different languages to be signed, an interpreter was essential. Interpreters were also
cultural brokers, because they facilitated dialogue by conveying messages in culturally
801
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 1. “Documentos Relativos a ilha de Bissau:
correspondênica Recebida do Ministério de Marinha e Ultramar [s.d.] 2 peças; original e
cópia manuscritos. Folhas avulsas.
802
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º1, folhas avulsas.
266
sensitive ways. Christianized African men (grumetes or Kriston) were facilitated
communication between Africans and Portuguese/Luso-Africans/Cape Verdeans. The
existence of these interpreters dispels the notion that African rulers signed treaties
without understanding the content, although cultural differences may have persisted in
803
terms of what “land concessions” meant.
These interpreters spoke various languages,
including Kabuverdianu/Guineense, Mandinka, Bijagó, Fula, Papel, and Beafada. In both
804
Cape Verde and Upper Guinea, interpreters were called cholona/cholonar/tcholonar.
In the 1660s, Francisco de Lemos Coelho referred to children, usually boys, which
Bijagós would give to the Portuguese to raise and teach Christianity so they could serve
as chalona.
805
During the slave trade, Europeans utilized chalonas to trade on the
mainland, whereas in Cape Verde, slaves that spoke Portuguese-based Creole and
African languages served as chalonas for boçal slaves.
In June 1856, André Gomes facilitated an agreement between Barreto and
Mamuto Jassi, the Beafada ruler of Cubuia, who accompanied by his confidant, Tio Gaje
806
Jabi.
André Gomes was the grumete judge of grumetes living inside the fort’s wall
803
Toby Green, Philip Havik, José Lingna Naféfe, and Peter Mendy emphasize that the
Portuguese breached these contracts, causing African retaliation.
804
Carreira, Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa, 43; Carreira believes
chalona derives from Balanta or Bijagó, signifying an interpreter and translator. During
the 1960s, Carreira also noted that the among Balanta and Christians in Guinea-Bissau
the word was widely used.
805
Francisco de Lemos Coelho, Duas descrições seiscentistas da Guiné; manuscritos
inéditos publicados com introdução e anotações históricas pelo académico de número
Damião Peres. (Lisbon, Portugal, 1953), 43.
806
SGG, Cx. N.º 347, peça n.º 3, folhas avulsas.
267
(intra-muros) of Bissau. In all likelihood, Gomes knew Beafada as well as Guineense
807
in order to translate for both parties. Given that the Beafada ruler of Cubuia had a
Mandinka name, Mamuto Jassi, it is possible another African language utilized was
Mandinka. Today, Kristons (or grumetes) in Guinea-Bissau speak Beafada, Fula, and
Guineense.
The parties held the discussion at the ponta Boa Esperança (Good Hope) at the
feitoria of Nhara Eugenia Nozolini Ferreira (which also shows that she had some
influence because the meeting was on her ponta). Nhara Ferreira was also the daughter of
the notorious José Caetano Nozolini and Nhara Aurélia Correia, which is emblematic of
her deep Cape Verdean and Guinean roots, respectively. Perhaps both parties deemed her
a respectable and neutral third party, at whose ponta they could meet without fear of
attack. Given Havik’s description of nharas as mothers, traders, queens, and partners, it
possible that both sides perceived Nhara Ferreira as a mother or matriarch, and thus
trustworthy.
In June 1856, Mamude Sambu translated for Barreto and Semsa Mané, the
808
Beafada ruler of Caúr, along with his subordinates of Ualito Sambu and Anga Jassi.
If
Mamude Sambu was a grumete, he did not adopt a Christian name and he might have
been related to Chief Ualito Sambu, who grumetes invoked to legitimize their
intermediary roles. The encounter was on Francisco de Paulo Ferreira’s feitoria, located
in Sabadá in Rio de Bolola. Ferreira signed this treaty, which delineated the protection of
Portuguese subjects and their land. Like other treaties, it emphasized continuing
807
808
I use Guineense to identify Guinean Creole, rather than the conventional use of Kriol.
SGG, Cx. N.º 347, peça n.º 3, folhas avulsas.
268
friendship, protection for Portuguese subjects and their land, and Portuguese control over
fiscal matters in the area. In short, Portuguese colonialism was trying to spread peacefully
through treaties.
In addition to the Rio Grande region, Casamance, and the region of the Geba
River, the Portuguese deemed the archipelago of Bijagó an important commercial center.
In 1861, Bonifacio Rodrigues served as interpreter for the Bijagó delegations and
Portuguese representatives, who were led by Pedro Augusto Macedo de Azevedo, interim
secretary of government. Macedo de Azevedo had been commissioned by lieutenant
colonel of general staff army, António Candido Zagalo, who was also governor of Guinea
Portuguese.
809
Present was André Gomes, the judge of grumetes living inside fort’s wall
of Bissau; Francisco Fernandes, judge of grumetes residing outside the fort’s wall (extramuros) of Bissau; Gregorio Rodrigues, judge of grumetes of Bandim; and Ainquemé
Lopes, grumete judge (juíz do povo) of Orango. Havik emphasizes that appointed
grumete judges invoked kinship ties with African dignitaries in their palaver to establish
their legitimacy.
810
“For example, Ainguené Lopes, the juiz do povo of Orango, was a
cousin of the oloño Oranto.”
811
From these three pontas and Oranto, an island of the
archipelago of Bijagós, some grumetes accompanied the delegation. They even “acted as
secret police chiefs.”
812
Hence, grumetes were vital to the daily functioning of
Portuguese Guinea.
809
810
811
SGG, Cx. N.º 347, peça n.º 3, folhas avulsas.
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 136.
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 136, 280n; original, AHU, CV, P.25, 30-1-1856;
P.33, 31-3-1862.
812
Havik, Silences and Soundbytes, 137.
269
Present for the Bijagó delegations were Orantó of Orango, King of Orango; King
of Ambircu sent Endacunú Lopes, grande (chief) of Orango; Ambrosio Uramiaque
Lopes; Nhequitigu, nephew of king of Orango; Uquebe, brother of King Oranto; Entadi,
king of Uno; Oranto of Sogá, King of Sogá; and King of Uracaná sent a “Jacintho.” Some
of the Bijagó dignitaries had Portuguese surnames, in particular Lopes, which suggests
spread of Portuguese influence. Despite adopting Portuguese surnames, these Bijagós
evidently did not speak Portuguese and Upper Guinea Creole or perhaps, they demanded
interpreters as part of protocol in negotiating to convey their powerful status.
All the interpreters signed with an “x,” demonstrating that literacy was not
essential for trade. However, some Futa-Fulas signed using Arabic scripts, but they were
not interpreters.
813
Although the Portuguese had some people that were multilingual and
thus could facilitate trade with many African communities, they had trouble in almost all
other realms, such as administration, army personnel, or disease control.
In 1853, the authorities in Cape Verde sent military reinforcements to the praça of
Bissau on board the Progresso de Bissau.
814
In October 1855, Honório Pereira Barreto
815
signed a treaty with the Papel representatives of Biang.
The Papel king of Biang was
not present because, according to Papel custom and belief, the king would perish if he left
his territory. (This custom might have been established to prevent others from assuming
813
It would be interesting to found out if these treaties were written in Arabic via the
interpreters who facilitated their understanding of the contracts. See, George E. Brooks
and Bruce L. Mouser, “An 1804 Slaving Contract Signed in Arabic Script from the Upper
Guinea Coast,” History in Africa 14 (1987): 341–7.
814
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 6, 1/7, “Correspondência recebida de Bissau marcooutubro 1853; 7 peças; originais manuscritos.” Folhas avulsas.
815
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3. Folhas avulsas.
270
the kingship in a vacuum.) Despite his absence, the treaty gave a major concession: the
use of the right bank of the mouth and beyond of the Bassarel River. The stipulation
prohibited foreign ships (including the Manjacos, their neighbors) from disembarking,
but only allowed them to pass through on canoes. The Portuguese were politically in
charge of the territory, but they were not allowed to confiscate Papel rice, farmlands, or
palm oil; the Papel would continue to farm and do, as they liked on their land and river.
Another condition was that if the Papel king died, the Portuguese will provide a calicolined coffin with two fine panus for his burial, fifty drags of powder, and “twelve
816
gallons/twenty four bottles of brandy.”
interpreter.
817
Leão Gomes, a judge of grumetes, served as
Because Bassarel was a strategic estuary, in 1863, Crato renewed the
treaty of 1843 originally signed with King Gamgobó of Matta of Putama, who ceded
818
land, including the mouth of the estuary of Bassarel.
The peace did not last.
In 1861, war broke out between the praça of Cacheu and Churo, Pucau, and
Cacanda.
819
The Portuguese claimed that Papel of Cacanda declared war on the praça.
The document does not provide the reason for the war, but it would appear that it was
related to the Portuguese incursion into African affairs. In 1862, there was a
governmental a meeting to review the proposal sent by the general governor of Cape
820
Verde regarding the war with the Papel of Cacanda.
816
Those present were Crato, interim
Papel associated fine panu with the Portuguese and Cape Verde. SGG, Cx. n. 347,
peças n. 3. Folhas avulsas.
817
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
818
819
820
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
271
governor; Pedro Augusto, interim secretary; Manoel Joaquim Pedro, military
expeditionary commission; the governor of Cacheu; a custom officer; and the bishop of
Portuguese Guinea. To enter the praça, the Portuguese stipulated that Africans from
Churo, Cacanda, Pucau, and Matta must leave their weapons outside the praça.
821
A
major concern for the Portuguese was that the Papel of Churo, Cacanda, Pucau, and
Matta not trade fugitive slaves from the praça of Cacheu.
822
Among the participants in this meeting were notable traders, such as Francisco
José Benicio, José da Silva Santos Costa, Carlos Honório Barreto, and Raphael Mendes.
Mendes argued that the proposal to remove the locals of Cacanda from their land would
be vehemently resisted by the group.
823
Mendes emphasized that the inhabitants of
Cacheu knew him and that he understood the customs of the coastal people. Crato said
that he knew that customs of the Africans well because he had lived in Cacheu for fifteen
824
years and that the Africans would reject these terms.
The recently appointed governor
of Cacheu, Manoel Joaquim Pedro, an Iberian Portuguese, acknowledged that he had
little understanding of coastal practices, but the group “unanimously” disapproved of the
proposal by the governor of Cape Verde.
825
The input of the traders was vital to the
colonial authority’s approach. This illustrates the classic interaction between colonialism
and commerce, which underpinned the establishment of Portuguese Guinea.
821
822
823
824
825
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n. 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
272
On the night of January 17, 1866, a Papel from Churo killed an individual in the
praça of Cacheu. Present to mediate this conflict, for the Portuguese contingent, were
João Carlos Cordeiro, interim governor of Cacheu, and merchants José Dias de Moura,
Manuel da Luz Ferreira, Francisco José Benicio, Veuceslau da Silva Ferreira, Joaquim
Antonio Timas, and Anna Charsis Freire Monteiro. Present for the Papel were Cachola,
Notem, Bolanhe, and Lariero, all chiefs of Churo and Noviche along with Felippe, rulers
of Plunde. The ruler of Churo had died and they had not elected his successor, and the
ruler of Plunde was too weak and feeble to negotiate.
826
The interpreter was Adrião
Corrêa, a grumete from the praça of Cacheu.
In African custom, the rulers of Churo kneeled and implored the Portuguese for
peace and friendship. They acknowledged the violation of the agreement and emphasized
that culprit was “banished from his country, village” and that his abode had been burnt to
the ground and they “voted for ostracism.”
827
Article 3 of the treaty stipulated that
Papels from Churo accused of insulting or physically harming individuals from the praça
of Cacheu and its dependencies must be submitted to the Portuguese authorities “without
any delay.” Article 4 dealt stated that any Papel of Churo who inflicted “stealing, robbery
and homicide and any other infraction” by a Papel of Churo on Portuguese subjects must
face Portuguese law. If the Papels of Churo did not comply, a clause allowed
apprehension or ransoming of the alleged criminal or any individual from Churo. The last
article noted that the governor of Cacheu would also punish any individual(s) under
826
827
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
273
Portuguese jurisdiction that violated these laws. Hence, the enforcement of these articles
would empower the Portuguese authorities and supersede African sovereignty.
Historically, the Beafada groups dominated the Rio Grande region, despite the
Fula settlement in the area during the fifteenth century and encroaching Kaabu Empire.
Indeed, the Beafada assimilated some Mandinka and Fula cultures, but remained a
distinct group. During the 1840s, Portuguese relations with the Beafada were not all
hostile. In 1844, Mamudo Sanho, the Beafada king of Badora, “ceded” the territories of
Fá and Ganjarra to the Portuguese to allow fortifications to protect the pontos
828
(plantations).
According to the Portuguese, Mamudo Sanho relinquished all areas
under his control in the Geba River region to them. In return, the Portuguese would offer
a monthly tribute of twelve bottles of aguardente. The main beneficiary was Caetano
Nozolini, who established trading factories there. With Portuguese encroachment in
Beafada territories, the Beafadas became more defensive. Although Barreto signed a
treaty with Selemany Jaby, Beafada ruler of Bolola, in 1856, some Beafada entities
resisted the Portuguese.
In 1861, the Portuguese captured a mouro in Begine in a war against the Beafadas
829
of Badora.
In October 1863, the Muslim chief (Mór Grande) died of cardiac
hypertrophy in the military hospital in Bissau. The Portuguese deemed that the “hostility”
830
of Beafadas of Badora was harmful to their commercial interest in the Geba River.
The Portuguese putatively regretted this situation and myopically reminisced that they
828
829
830
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça n.º 3; Folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 7, fohas avulsas.
Continuado do numero antecedente, 25: BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862.
274
had “always” lived in tranquility with the people of Upper Guinea. The Portuguesem
demonstrating their imperial arrogance, considered the Beafadas of Badora in “rebellion.”
Crato, as president, would head the commission to Geba along with prominent traders,
including Gregorio Corrêa Pinto, José Joaquim d’Oliveria, and José Pedro da Silva.
831
The objective of the commission was to “guarantee the commercial interest of Portuguese
subjects,” such as the unimpeded navigation in the Geba River and Portuguese rights to
small plantations in Fá, Ganjarra, and all other areas.
832
By 1861, the colonial government in Cape Verde confirmed the nomination of
José Lourenço d’Araujo as the chief-resident of the colony in Rio Grande.
833
The
Portuguese effort at territorial expansion caused irrevocable damage, because the
Beafadas saw this as interference on their land. In 1863, Crato urged that all the available
834
degredados be sent to the “colony of Rio Grande.”
As discussed in chapter 4, the
government of Cape Verde had made a formal request to Portugal to authorize sending
rebellious libertos from the island of Sal to perform public works in Rio Grande colony.
The degredados chopped down the trees to make wooden beams and sailed on a big boat
835
owned by José Lourenço d’Araujo.
Araujo asked Felippe Eugenio Vieira, who lived
in the colony, about the quantity of woods transported by the group. In 1863, Manoel
Bernardes, a degredado, was suspected of burning down the house of José Lourenço
831
832
833
Continuado do numero antecedente, 25: BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862.
Continuado do numero antecedente, 25: BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862.
BOGGCV, Numero 9, 1861, 33; Biblioteca Nacional e Livros de Cabo Verde, Praia,
Santiago, Cabo Verde.
834
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 7, folhas avulsas.
835
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 7, folhas avulsas.
275
836
d’Araújo.
The degregados were handling the wooden beams to bring it closer to
mouth of the river. In order to do this, dried grass or plants were laid on the path, which
caught fire. Wood was an important material for construction, and the Portuguese kept
surveillance of timber production levels to prevent misappropriation. They were in a
hurry to build strong fortifications because the French colony of Senegal was sending
Franco-Africans to secure a foothold in the area.
In 1868, the French colonial administration sent Adolfo Demay, a FrancoAfrican, along with David James Laerrance and Francis Lacrecence requesting a meeting
with Gage Nanchim, ruler of Bolola.
837
Nanchim refused to receive them, but Demay
returned with the intention of negotiating a contract “for the navigation and domination
of the Rio Grande for the Senegalese government.”
838
Given this persistency, Nanchim
notified the Portuguese leading to a new treaty. Nachim asserted that he took his
authority from Jaby, his predecessor, and would uphold the old treaty. João Monteiro de
Macedo, a merchant from Fogo, was one of the signatories.
839
Moreover, with the disintegration of the Kaabu Empire circa 1856, the Almamy
of Futa-Djallon had become the sole African hegemony in the interior, fighting the
independent Beafadas in the Rio Grande region. In 1870, Portuguese Guinea, led by
Manoel dos Santos Oliveira, first lieutenant of Cape Verde based, made an alliance with
Soury Sedy, Futa Fula chief, ruler of Laiché, chief commander of arms for the Almamy
836
837
838
839
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 7, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
276
840
to “protect” the Beafada of Buba.
Prominent Portuguese traders were present,
including José Lourenço d’Araujo, José Joaquim Pires da Coasta, Jaime Marques de
Barros, Manoel da Silva Fracceo, and Ambrozio Carvalho de Alvarenga, to protect
Portuguese commercial interests. In the treaty, one of the five clauses that Sedy insisted
on enabled the “progress and protection of Portuguese commerce.”
841
Another clause
stipulated that Fulas and mouros that become residents of Buba must provide tribute to
the ruler of Buba. It also stated that Fulas could travel in Buba territory with their
commodities. Besides trade issues, the treaty emphasized the protection of the Beafada
nation. Portuguese Guinea was attempting to contain the expansionist Fula Empire by
using vulnerable political entities as buffer zones. At this point, Portugal tried to
accommodate the jihadist Fula rather than face direct confrontation. In addition to the
Futa-Fulas, the Portuguese were facing challenges from the French and British, who were
trying to buy land and make alliances with African rulers in the region.
In January 1870, in Cacheu, a fight broke out between the resident grumetes and
842
soldiers.
Captain Alvaro Telles Caldeira, governor of Portuguese Guinea, arrived to
quell the confusion, but the grumetes killed the governor and injured some of the soldiers.
In order to “pacify” the district and punish the grumetes of Cacheu, in February 1871,
Cape Verde sent military reinforcements consisting of two gunboats, the Zarco and the
843
Tejo.
840
841
842
843
The gunboats were also used to attack the Papels of Cacanda, next to the praça
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx. n. 347, peça 3, folhas avulsas.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 6, 28.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 6, 28.
277
of Cacheu.
844
The grumetes took refuge in the Papel settlement of Cacanda, which was
only two kilometers from the praça of Cacheu, in an almost impenetrable forest.
845
In
Cacheu, the Portuguese lamented that Africans that had “insulted” them sought refuge
846
there.
Papels of Cacanda constantly launched attacks against the praça of Cacheu.
Before this excursion, only once did Portuguese forces penetrate the bush, and they were
ambushed with gunfire. The Papels of Cacanda were described as “brave people,
seasoned, dexterous, starting very young handling weaponry and gymnastic
exercises.”
847
Maybe, this culture of war was engendered or facilitated by the centuries
of violence brought by the slave trade.
In 1871, all the praças and fortified locations of Portuguese Guinea contributed
military assistance, and about 200 foot soldiers went to Cacanda. The colonial governor
of Cape Verde exclaimed that the “superior command of Portuguese officials and
848
sailors.”
With reconnaissance done by Marques and Saint-Maurice, who knew their
way to Cacanda, and a map that had been developed for the first time, Portuguese forces
went deep into the village of Cacanda.
849
Although the Portuguese force claimed they
were “victorious and punished the Papels of Cacanda,” they ironically highlighted their
retreat because the Papels brutally retaliated, which contradicts Portuguese proclaimed
victory. In short, the Portuguese forces continued to encounter fierce resistance and suffer
844
845
846
847
848
849
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 68.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 74.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 68.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 74.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 68.
BOGGCV, 1871, numero 13, 74.
278
major military defeats. Peter K. Mendy notes that the 1878 “massacre” of more than fifty
Portuguese soldiers in Bolor occurred “on the eve of the notorious European scramble for
colonies in Africa, and dealt a heavy blow to Portuguese national pride and dreams of an
African empire.” João Barreto tells us that, as a result, the Lisbon authorities found
themselves compelled to “pay more attention to matters of Guinea.” This came to entail
the separation of the few fortified settlements, know as praças and presídios, from Cape
850
Verde, on March 18, 1879.
In conclusion, this chapter has explored the issues of kinship, abolition,
commerce, and colonization in Portuguese Guinea. With the rise of peanut production
and the transition to legitimate trade, residents of Cape Verde, particularly Fogo and
Santiago, settled and traded in contraband in Portuguese Guinea. Perhaps the assertion of
whiteness by Luso-Africans during the nineteenth century, in reaction to British and
French attacks on their “Portuguese” identity, should be seen in relation to many
merchants from Fogo who were identified as brankus di terra on their island, and who
had tremendous social capital. Their “whiteness” justified their involvement in competing
with French, British, and even Iberian Portuguese in commerce, including the slave trade.
Moreover, British abolitionism had a huge impact on Portuguese claims to
Portuguese Guinea, because Portuguese subjects were deeply involved in the slave trade.
The British used this as pretext to confiscate territories that Portugal hadproclaimed as
their own. Portugal also competed with French colonial expansionism. The fiercest
resistance, nevertheless, came from African communities. They had to deal with the Fula
850
Peter K. Mendy, “The Tradition of Resistance in Guinea-Bissau: The PortugueseAfrican Encounter in Cacheu, Bissau and ‘suas dependênicas,’ 1588–1878,” in Mansas,
Escravos, Grumetes e Gentio, 137.
279
expansion, Kaabu, and small-scale societies along the Casamance to Grande River
regions. In Portuguese Guinea, subjects such as libertos from Guiné, degredados (mostly
libertos from Cape Verde), and grumetes constantly deserted and fled to African
communities. In addition, Portuguese Guinea was internally disorganized because
officials were heavily involved in commerce, particularly slave trafficking. Diseases
affected the duration of stay by high officials. The health infrastructure lacked adequate
resources to deal with debilitating illnesses. In addition, they could not even provide
primary education; therefore, prominent students traveled to Cape Verde to complete
certain courses. However, with interpreters and reinforced armies, Portuguese Guinea
continued to negotiate and fight with the Africans. By 1879, the colony of Portuguese
Guinea was administratively separated from the province of Cape Verde to focus on
ensuring the viability of the fledging colony. By 1876, Portugal finally succeeding in
abolishing slavery in its territories, which were also a watershed mark for Portuguese
colonial expansion in Africa, which began on the coast, and then extending into the
interior, with continued African opposition.
280
CONCLUSION
This dissertation explored the how the Atlantic slave trade between Cape Verde
and the Upper Guinea Coast fostered a cross-cultural exchange in which Cape Verde was
an integral part. It shows that economic and cultural interpretations are neither
exclusionary nor antagonistic, but complementary for understanding the interplay
between the two realms in the development of cultural and political practices. The study
proposed five historiographical areas of contribution.
First, fashion and dress began to change with the arrival of Islam in Upper Guinea
and the Atlantic slave trade. Although Islam brought certain types of dress, it did not
displace preexisting fashions in Upper Guinea worn by islamicized elites. As Mandinka
in the Senegambia testified, the fashion of wearing protective amulets did not disappear
but was combined with the Muslim robe. As for the Atlantic influence, in Upper Guinea,
particularly in coastal communities, chiefs and leaders incorporated European clothing
without abandoning African clothing. Although there were diverse styles of clothing,
there were some commonalities, such as the importance of cotton textile, hats, and
hairstyles. Textiles, including panu, became popular in the region. In part, the Atlantic
slave trade stimulated the spread of this fashion to a large segment of the population.
Second, with the rise of the Atlantic slave trade, the fashion and dress of Upper
Guinea spread to Cape Verde. As Carreira underscored, African slaves with African
knowledge produced panu, which triggered the rise of the Afro-Atlantic feminine
aesthetic. It was not creolization, but cross-cultural exchange—the incorporation of
European elements with Guinean cores, such as jewelry, elaborately designed panus, and
multilayered clothes. Moreover, head wrapping was not necessarily a Christian influence,
281
but could have been Islamic or the convergence of Islam and preexisting African
coiffures.
Third, the development of Cape Verdean society, particularly those with large
numbers of slaves, such as Santiago Island, Fogo, and São Antão, required both violence
and flexibility. In addition, desertification caused the weakening of the slave system in
Cape Verde. The specter of enslavement, however, was constant in Cape Verde given its
geostrategic location as well as chronic droughts and famines and colonial neglect.
Rapacious merchant islanders sought to enslave others to make a quick profit. British
merchants also stopped for human cargoes before making the long trip to the Caribbean.
Bureaucratic documentation, including the colossal Trans-Atlantic Slave Database, does
not account for kidnapping. Toby Green has shown that the number of people during the
early period of the trans-Atlantic slave trade has been underestimated. Rather than
emphasizing the economic impact, the sociocultural dimension was also affected,
particularly strategies to cope with kidnapping. During this period, convicted criminals
were sent to Guiné, which continued the cross-cultural exchange.
There needs to be more studies on race and racial difference during the Atlantic
slave trade and trans-Saharan slave trade, particularly in light of the recent scholarship by
Bruce Hall and Chouki El Hamel. Hall notes that Arabs and Tuareg have invoked racial
difference in Muslim West Africa. Hamel shows that slavery was racialized in Morocco,
despite the Islamic message about the emancipation of humanity. Both studies show that
in Saharan and Sahel regions of Africa, black meant slavery. The Portuguese injected
racial ideas and racialized slavery in Cape Verde, which also spread to their settlements
on the coast. . Some scholars have argued that there is a link between Arab and European
282
forms of racial difference, given the Moor’s long domination of the Iberian peninsula.
Thus, James Sweet argues that the Muslim influence in the Iberian peninsula influenced
their thinking about race. Bernard Lewis shows that in the Islamic world a differentiation
among slaves’ skin color became apparent by the ninth century. James Webb argues that
the term bidan (white), which was used in southern Mauritania by the
851
Mauers/Bebers/Tuaregs, was more of a cultural construct than based upon skin color.
Horta and Mark note in passing the similarities between bidan and “white” Portuguese as
it related to the Saharan and Atlantic trades, respectively.
852
For Cape Verde, branku di
terra would also correspond to a cultural and economic class and/or social status. Given
these similarities, comparative studies of the introduction of “race” by the Portuguese and
Arabs in the Sahel zone would better our understanding of the historical development of
“race” in the region.
Fourth, in studies of the colonization of Portuguese Guinea, there has been a
homogenization of Cape Verdeans, particularly before the abolition of slavery in Cape
Verde in 1876. Libertos from Cape Verde and Portuguese Guinea and “liberated”
Africans in Sierra Leone
853
were in a similar position between “freedom” and slavery.
Benjamin Lawrence shows that the legacies of slavery and the slave trade in colonial
851
James Webb, Desert Frontier: Ecological Change along the Western Sahel (1600–
1850) (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1995).
852
Horta and Mark, Forgotten Diaspora, 9n, 54–55.
853
Philip R. Misevich, “On the Frontier of ‘Freedom:’ Abolition and the Transformation
of Atlantic Commerce in Southern Sierra Leone, 1790s to 1860s,” Ph.D. diss., Emory
University, Atlanta, GA, 2009).
283
Africa affected labor recruitment.
854
The abolition of the slave trade and the transition to
legitimate trade actually caused a temporary increase or “domestification” of Atlantic
slave systems in Africa, which future studies should explore.
Finally, slavery preceded colonialism in Africa. However, Roquinaldo Ferreira,
Mariana Candido, and Hilary Jones illustrate that Angola, Benguela, and Saint Louis,
respectively, have shown that this view belies the different historical processes occurring
in Atlantic Africa. In addition to these three colonies, Cape Verde must be included in the
historiography of the Anglophone world (see the recent work of Toby Green). After all,
the Dutch settled in southern Africa and unleashed a cycle of violence that was similar to
the Atlantic slave system, but that is usually excluded from studies of Atlantic slavery.
Therefore, settler colonialism must been seen as tied to the Atlantic slave trade and the
European imperialism that predated the Berlin Conference. Where colonial imposition
was possible, Atlantic slavery and colonialism were occurred. Saint Louis under the
French
855
and Cape Verde under Portugal were launching pads for the territorial
colonialism that was preceded by coastal colonialism, which, in turn, created Portuguese
Guinea, Senegal, and, eventually French West Africa.
854
Benjamin N. Lawrance and Richard Roberts, Trafficking in Slavery’s Wake: Law and
the Experience of Women and Children in Africa (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2012),
2.
855
Hilary Jones, “Citizens and Subjects: Métis Society, Identity and the Struggle Over
Colonial Politics in Saint Louis, Senegal, 1870–1920,” Ph.D. diss., Michigan State
University, East Lansing, MI, 2003, Abstract section; Ibrahima Seck, “The French
Discovery of Senegal: Premises for a Policy of Selective Assimilation,” Brokers of
Change, 149–70.
284
APPENDIX
285
Glossary
The language is listed in parenthesis for the words in this glossary. Kabuverdianu, the
language of the Cape Verdean people, commonly called Krioulo, i.e., Cape Verdean
Creole, developed during the era of the Atlantic slave trade. Kabuverdianu is mutually
intelligible with Guineense or Guinean Creole.
Boçales (Portuguese). An unacculturated slave.
Brancos de reínos (Portuguese). Whites of the Portuguese kingdom. Also called réinos.
Branku di terra (Kabuverdianu). “Whites of the land.” Refers to a cultural and economic
group that replaced European and their descendants in local positions in Cape Verde and
coastal Upper Guinea.
Capitão mor (Portuguese). Captain major.
Chalonas (Kabuverdianu/Guineese). Interpreters.
Convivencia (Portuguese/Kabuverdianu). “coexistence.”
Cristãos Novos (Portuguese). “New Christians.” Iberian Jews that were forced to convert
to Christianity.
Degredados (Portuguese). “Exiled.”
Dona (Portuguese/Kabuverdianu). A title used to express respect to important women.
Feitorias (Portuguese). Small plantations or farms.
Filhos de folhas (Portuguese). “Children of the pages.” In Cape Verde, bureaucrats that
worked for the local administration.
Filhos de terra (Portuguese). “Children of the land” were whites born in Cape Verde or
Upper Guinea Coast.
Fula (Kabuverdianu). Brownish complexion—not to be confused with the ethnic group.
Funcos (Kabuverdianu). Circular houses used by the poor in Cape Verde.
Gentios (Portuguese). “Heathens” or “pagans” to describe Africans not Christians or
Muslims.
Grogu (Kabuverdianu). Distilled brandy produced by slaves in Cape Verde.
286
Grumetes (Portuguese/Kabuverdianu/Guineense). “Cabin boy.” Africans who worked for
Europeans.
Guiné (Portuguese/Kabuverdianu/Guineense). The Portuguese eventually used it to refer
to Upper Guinea Coast, although the use was beyond this region. Also referred to as Rios
de Guiné or Rios de Guiné de Cabo Verde.
Jabacouce (Kabuverdianu/Guineense). Healer.
Ladinos (Portuguese). Slaves acclimatized to Iberian culture.
Libertos (Portuguese/Kabuverdianu). Manumitted slaves that had to provide mandatory
service.
Lançados (Portuguese). From lançar, to throw or launch. Portuguese/Cape Verdean who
“threw” themselves onto the coast.
Lusotropicalismo (Portuguese). Portuguese colonial concept that proposed racial
democracy in the tropics by Portuguese comingling with non-whites.
Manduco (Kabuverdianu/Guineense). Club used by Africans to fight in Cape Verde and
Upper Guinea Coast.
Mansa (Mandinka). King.
Mestiços (Portuguese). “Mixed race.”
Misericordia (Portuguese). A charity institution that helps poor and sickpeople.
Nharas/ña/nha (Guineense/Kabuverdianu). A respected women.
Panu/panu di terra (Kabuverdianu). Cotton cloth made in Cape Verde.
Polon/Pilon (Kabuverdianu). Mortar.
Pontas (Portuguese). Small plantations or estates.
Pretos forros (Portuguese). Freed black male.
Praças (Portuguese). Town squares in Portuguese coastal towns.
Réis (Portuguese). Imperial Portuguese currency.
Signares (Wolof). Respected female merchants of mixed descent.
Sobradus (Kabuverdianu). Mansions in Cape Verde, especially in Fogo.
287
Tangomaus (Portuguese/Guineense). Origin is not clear, a Portuguese or Cape Verdean
who completely into local coastal culture.
Tungumás (Guineense). Free African women who were cultural brokers for the
Europeans.
Vadío (Portuguese). Fugitive slaves or freed slaves not willing to work for former
slaveowner.
288
BIBLIOGRAPHY
289
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Primary Sources
I. Instituto do Arquivo Histórico Nacional (Praia, Cape Verde)
1. Secretaria Geral do Governo (SGG), Caixas (Cx):1800-1878.
(SGG), Caixa (Cx) n.º 347, peça n.º 6, 1/7, “Correspondência recebida de Bissau marcooutubro 1853; 7 peças; originais manuscritos.
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 4 ½, “Correspondênica recebida do governo da praça de
cacheu; agosto-dezembro 1845; 2 peça; cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 1. “Documentos Relativos a ilha de Bissau: correspondênica
Recebida do Ministério de Marinha e Ultramar [s.d.] 2 peças; original e cópia
manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. n.347, peça n.º 3; 1/41, “Tratados e contratos do Governo da Guiné
Portuguesa, 1828-1879.” 1.5cm; originais e cópias manuscritos.
SGG, C. N.º576, P-05, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos, Junho-Dezembro 1858, 5 peças (avulso); originais e cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-07, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos, Janeiro-Dezembro 1862, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias manuscritos
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-04, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos, Fevereiro-Dezembro 1857, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias manuscritos
SGG, Cx. n.º 347, peça n.º 5, 1/3, “Correspondência da Guiné-Bissau, Janeiro-Outubro
1846; 3 peças; originais manuscritos, folhas avulsas.
SGG, Cx N.º 2, peça n.º 9 Registo Civil do Fogo, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de
Nossa Senhora da Conceição, 05 de Maio de 1852 a 06 de Abril de 1862. originais
manuscritos—uncatalogued.
SGG, Cx Nº.23, peça 1, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia de S.
Nicolau Tolentino, 25 de Abril de 1849 a 28 de Janeiro de 1857, 105v. originais
manuscritos.
SGG, Caixa N.º 23, peça 02, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Baptismos, Freguesia
de S. Nicolau Tolentino, 08 de Setembro de 1858 a 20 de Março de 1870, 200 Folhas.
Originais Manuscritos.
290
SGG, Caixa. Nº.1, Peça N.º2, Conservatória dos Registos Centrais, Assentos de
Baptismos da Freguesia de Nossa Senhora da Graça, 09 Janeiro 1853–31 Março 1874,
Livro de 1855, f42; originais-incompleto.
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 45, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Casamentos, Freguesia
de Nossa Senhora da Graça, 20 de Junho de 1864 a 20 de Dezembro 1881; originais
manuscritos incompletos.
SGG, Caixa n.7, peça n. 44, Registo Civil da Praia, Assentos de Casamentos, Freguesia
de Nossa Senhora da Graça, 6 de Abril de 1807 a 22 de Maio de 1864, f.209. Originais
manuscritos.
SGG, Cx n.º 347, peça n.º 5, 1/3, Correspondência da Guiné-Bissau, Janeiro-Outubro
1846; 3 peças; originais manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. Nº 347, Peça 3; 1/41, “Tratados e contratos do Governo da Guiné Portuguesa,
1828-1879.” 1.5cm; originais e cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09, Correspondênicia Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Janeiro–Outubro 1865, 3 peças; originais e cópias
manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. N.º576, P-06, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da provincia de Cabo Verde, Março-Junho 1859, 6 peças (avulso); originais e
cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx.576, P-011, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Incl. regulamento da Junta Dezembro 1866–
Setembro 1867, 7 peças; originais e cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx.576, P-12, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da provinica de Cabo verde, Janeiro–Dezembro 1868, 8 peças, f.6; originais e
cópias manuscritos.
SGG, Cx. N.º 576, P-09, Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos Escravos e
Libertos da Provincia de Cabo Verde, Janeiro–Outubro 1865, 3 peças; originais e cópias
manuscritos.
SGG Cx. N.º 576, P-04, avulso. Correspondência Recebida do Junta Protectora dos
Escravos e Libertos, Fevereiro-Dezembro 1857, 7 peças (avulso): originais e cópias
manuscritos.
2. Secretaria Geral do Governo (SGG), Livros (Lv): 1650–1830s.
SGG, Lv 0001, “Ordens das Cortes Copiadas a Mando do Desembargado Sindicante
Custódio Correa de Mattos. Inclui Correspondência c/autoridades Internas e Externas,
291
Provisões, treslados, Provimentos entre Outros. (N.º-A-42); 1674/Nov–1754; 174/200cópia manuscritas.
SGG Liv 0003, Cartas patentes, Provisões e Traslados de Cartas e Alvariás, Abril 1693–
1706/Março; 20-247 fls. Orig. man.
SGG, Lv 0004, Alvarás, Ordens, Decretos e Provisões da Corte: Contem abecedários no
fim. Ago/1699-05/Mar/1776; 343/387 fls; cópias manuscritas.
SGG, Lv 0007, Registo de Ordens, Alvarás, Patentes e Provisões; 1754/Dezembro/19–
Março, 27, 1772. 174 fls; cópias manuscritas.”
SGG, Lv0011, Decretos, Alvará, provisões, cartas patentes e cartas régias.
1769/março/17-1798/ outubro/12. 235 fls; cópias manuscritas.
SGG, Lv 0013, “Bandos e editais Publicados na Ilha de Santiago. 1769/Dezembro–
1778/Setembro.
SGG, Lv 0014, Promocões, cartas patentes (confirmação e petições. 1774/janeiro/26–
1778; 99-268; copias manuscritas.
SGG Lv 15, Cartas, Portarias e ordens expedidas governo geral as autoridades das ilhas
da província; 1775/julho/17–1779/Maio/24; 86/144 fls; copias manuscritas.
SGG, Lv 0016, Registo de provimentos, patentes e bandos; out/1778–1802/Dez. 184 fls;
cópias manuscritas.
SGG, Lv0018, Cartas patentes, provimentos, alvarás, mercês régias, mercês do Governo
Geral da Província e bandos. 1789/Feb/17–1815/Março/27; 246/324 fls., cópias
manuscritas, n.º antigo 53.
SGG, Lv 0700, Títulos e papeis legais que provem a posse legal das possessões
portuguesas adquiridas na Costa da Guiné e no Arquipélago do Bijagós. 1830/maio/07–
1839/junho/05. 22/97fs.; cópias manuscritas.
SGG, Lv 0862, Registo de escravos do Concelho da Vila da Praia (n.º1), Santiago.
Originais manuscritos, n.º antigo 326.
SGG, Lv 0863, Registo de escravos do Concelho da Vila da Praia (n.º2), Santiago.
Originais manuscritos, n.º antigo 327.
3. Boletim Oficial da Província de Cabo Verde, (BOGGCV)1842–1871:
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1856.
BOGGCV, Numero 18, 1857,
BOGGCV, 1862, Numero 8 . Peças Officiaes Cuja Publicação Se Achava en Atraso
Continuando do Numero Antecedente.
292
BOGGCV, Numero 5, 1862, Continuado do numero antecedente.
II. Biblioteca Nacional e Livros de Cabo Verde (Praia, Cape Verde)
Boletim Official,de Governo Geral de Provincia de Cabo Verde (BOGGCV),
BOGGCV, Numero 187, 1855,
BOGGCV, Numero 9, 1861.
BOGGCV, Numero 7, 1861.
BOGGCV, Numero 37, 1872.
Published Primary Sources
A General Collection of Voyages and Discoveries, made by the Portuguese and
Spaniards, Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries. London: W. Richardson; J. Bew; T.
Hookham; J. and T. Egerton; and C. Stalker, 1789.
Almada, André Alvares. Brief Treatise on the Rivers of Guinea. Edited by Avelino
Teixeira da Mota with notes and English translation by P. E. H. Hair. [Liverpool, UK]:
Department of History, University of Liverpool, 1984.
Álavres, Manuel Ethiopia. Minor and a Geographical Account of the Province of Sierra
Leone. Translated by P. E. H. Hair. Liverpool, UK: University of Liverpool, Department
of History, September 30, 1990.
Avity, Pierre d’. Sieur de Montmartin, The estates, empires, & principallities of the
world: Represented by ye description of countries, maners of inhabitants, riches of
prouinces, forces, gouernment, religion; and the princes that haue gouerned in euery
estate. With the begin[n]ing of all militarie and religious orders. Translated out of
French by Edw: Grimstone, sargeant at armes. London: Printed by Adam: Islip; for
Mathewe: Lownes; and Iohn: Bill, 1615.
Anonymous. Notícia Corográfica e Cronológica do Bispado de Cabo Verde, edited by
António Carreira. Lisbon, Portugal: Instituto Caboverdeano de Livro, 1985, 20.
Teixeira da Mota, Avelino. (Ed.). As Viagens do bispo D. Frei Vitoriano Portuense à
Guiné e a cristianização dos reis de Bissau. Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de Investigações
Científicas do Ultramar, 1974.
293
Barcellos, Christiano José de Senna. Subsídios para a História de Cabo Verde e Guiné,
Vol. I, Parts I and II, 2ª ed.. Praia, Cape Verde: Instiuto da Biblioteca Nacional e do
Livro, 2003.
Boletim Arquivo Histórico Colonial, Vol. 1. Lisbon, Portugal: Arquivo Histórico
Colonial, 1950.
Boletim da Sociedade de Geographia de Lisboa, Series 4, Nº 3 Lisbon, Portugal:
Imprensa Nacional, 1885.
Brásio, António. Monumenta Missionaria Africana: Africa occidental, 2 series, Vol. 3.
Lisbon, Portugal: Agência Geral do Ultramar, Divisão de Publicações e Biblioteca;
Centro de Estudos Africanos da Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de Lisboa, 1958.
Broecke, Pieter Van Den. Journal of Voyages to Cape Verde, Guinea and Angola (1605–
1612). Translated and edited by J. D. La Fleur. 3rd Series N.º 5. London: Hakluyt Society,
2000.
Carreira, António. A Companhia Geral do Grão-Pará e Maranhão. Vol. II, Documentos
(O Comércio Intercontinental Portugal-África-Brasil Na Segunda Metade do Século
XVIII). São Paulo, Brazil: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1988.
———. Documentos para História das Ilhas de Cabo Verde e «Rios de Guiné» (Séculos
XVII e XVIII). Lisbon, Portugal, [s.n.], 1983.
_____________. “Os Portuguêses nos Rios de Guiné” (1500–1900). Lisbon, Portugal,
1984.
Coelho, Francisco de Lemos. Duas descrições seiscentistas da Guiné; manuscritos
inéditos publicados com introdução e anotações históricas pelo académico de número
Damião Peres. Lisbon, Portugal, 1953.
Crone, G. R. (Ed. and Trans.). The Voyages of Cadamosto. London: Hakluyt Society,
1937.
Dampier, William. A voyage to New Holland, &c. in the year, 1699. Wherein are
described, the Canary-Islands, the Isles of Mayo and St Jago, Vol. III. London: Printed
for James Knapton, 1703.
Donelha, André. An Account of Sierra Leone and the Rivers of Guinea of Cape Verde
(1625). Edited by Avelino Teixeira da Mota with notes and English translation by P. E.
H. Hair. (Centro de Estudos de Cartografia Antiga, No. 19.) Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de
Investigações do Ultramar, 1977, 137.
Du Quesne, Abraham. A New Voyage to the East-Indies in the years 1690 and 1691
being a full description of the isles of Maldives, Cicos, Andamants, and the Isle of
294
Ascention…; to which is added, a new description of the Canary Islands, Cape Verd,
Senegal, and Gambia done into English (from the Paris edition. 1696, Copy from the
British Library).
Feijó, João da Silva. Ensaios e Memórias Económicas sobre as Ilhas de Cabo Verde
(Século XVII). Lisbon, Portugal, 1986.
Fryer, John. A New Account of East-India and Persia: In Eight Letters Being Nine Years
Travels, Begun 1672, and Finished 1681. London: Printed by R. R. for R. I. Chiswell, at
the Rose and Crown in St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1698.
Guerra, Luiz de Bivar. A Sindicância do desembargador Custódio Correia de Matos às
Ilhas de Cabo Verde em 1753 e o regimento que deixou à Ilha de São Nicolau. Lisbon,
Portugal: Stvdia-Revista semester-n.º 2 (Julho), Centro de Estudos Históricos
Ultramarinos, 1958.
Hair, P. E., and Avelino Teixeira da Mota. (eds). Jesuit Documents on the Guinea of
Cape Verde and the Cape Verde Islands, 1585–1617. Liverpool, UK: University of
Liverpool, Department of History, 1989.
Hamdun, Said, and Noel King (Eds.). Ibn Battuta in Black Africa. Princeton, NJ: Markus
Wiener, 2005.
Le Maire, Jacques-Joseph. A new voyage to the East-Indies in the years 1690 and 1691
being a full description of the isles of Maldives, Cicos, Andamants, and the Isle of
Ascention by Monsieur Duquesne; to which is added, a new description of the Canary
Islands, Cape Verd, Senegal, and Gambia; done into English from the Paris edition.
London: Printed for Daniel Dring, 1696.
Ligon, Richard. A True and Exact History of the Island of Barbados (1657), edited, with
an introduction, by Karen Ordahl Kupperman. Reprint; Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 2011.
Marees, Pieter de. Description and Historical Account of the Gold Kingdom of Guinea
(1602), translated from Dutch and edited by Albert van Dantzig and Adam Jones.
London: British Academy; published by arrangement with Oxford University Press,
1978.
Monteiro, Joze Maria de Souza. Diccionario Geographico das Provincias e Possessões
Portuguezas no Ultramar. Lisbon, Portugal: Typographia Lisbonense, 1850.
Newitt, Malyn. (Ed. and Trans.). The Portuguese in West Africa, 1415–1670: A
Documentary History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
Pereira, Daniel A. Apresentação, notas e comentários. Memórias Sobre Cabo Verde do
Governador Joaquim Pereira Martinho & Outros Textos. Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto
Camões-Centro Cultural Português, 2008.
295
Prevost, Abbè. Histoire generale des voyages, ou nouvelle collection de toutes les
relations de voyages. Paris: Chez Didot, 1747.
Roberts, George. The four years voyages of Capt. George Roberts: being a series of
uncommon events which befell him . . . written by himself. London: Printed for A.
Bettesworth, 1726.
Senna, Manuel Roiz Lucas de. Dissertação sobre as ilhas de Cabo Verde 1818.
Annotation and comments by António Carreira. Edition funded by the President of the
Republic of Cape Verde, 1987.
Tuckey, James Hingston. Narrative of an Expedition to Explore the River Zaire, usually
called the Congo, in South Africa, in 1816, under the direction of Captain J. K. Tuckey;
[to which is add the journal of Professor Smith]. London: Cass, 1967.
Wright, Donald R. Oral Traditions From the Gambia, Vol. I, Mandinka Griots (Papers in
International Studies Africa Series No. 37). Athens: Ohio University Center for
International Studies Program, 1979.
Secondary Sources
Antunes, Catia. Globalisation in the Early Modern period: the economic relationship
between Amsterdam and Lisbon, 1640–1705. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction
Publishers, 2004.
Araújo, Américo C. Little Known, the European Side of Cape Verde Islands: A
Contribution to the Knowledge of a People. New Bedford, MA: DAC.
Beattie, Peter. “‘Born Under the Cruel Rigor of Captivity, the Supplicant Left It
Unexpectedly by Committing A Crime’: Categorizing and Punishing Slave Convicts in
Brazil, 1830–1897,” The Americas 66, no. 1 (2009): 11–55.
———. “‘ReCapricorning’ the Atlantic.” Luso-Brazilian Review 45 no. 1 (2008): 1–5.
———. The Tribute of Blood: Army, Honor, Race, and Nation in Brazil, 1864–1945.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001.
Boxer, C. R. Race Relations in the Portuguese Colonial Empire, 1415–1825. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1963.
Bowman, Joye. Ominous Transition: Commerce and Colonial Expansion in the
Senegambia and Guinea, 1857–1919. Aldershot, UK: Avebury, 1997.
296
Brásio, António. História e missiologia: inéditos e esparsos. Luanda: Instituto de
Investigação Científica de Angola, 1973.
Brockey, Liam Matthew (ed.). Portuguese Colonial Cities in the Early Modern World.
Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2008.
Brooks, George E. “Artists’ Depictions of Senegalese Signares: Insights Concerning
French Racist and Sexist Attitudes in the Nineteenth Century.” Genève-Afrique 18, no. 1
(1980): 75–90.
———. “Cabo Verde: Gulag of the South Atlantic; Racism, Fishing Prohibitions, and
Famines.”History in Africa 33 (2006): 101–35.
———. Eurafricans in Western Africa: Commerce, Social Status, Gender, and Religious
Observance from the Sixteenth to the Eighteenth Century. Oxford: James Currey, 2003.
———. Landlords and Strangers: Ecology, Society, and Trade in Western Africa, 1000–
1630. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993.
Buckridge, S. O. The Language of Dress: Resistance and Accommodation in Jamaica,
1760–1890. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2004.
Byfield, Judith A. The Bluest Hands: A Social and Economic History of Women Dyers in
Abeokuta (Nigeria), 1890–1940. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2002.
Cabral, Amilcar. Unity and Struggle. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1979.
Cabral, Iva. “Elites atlânticas: Ribeira Grande do Cabo Verde (séculos XVI–XVIII),” 6,
http://cvc.instituto-camoes.pt/eaar/coloquio/comunicacoes/iva_cabral.pdf.
Candido, Mariana. An African Slaving Port and the Atlantic world: Benguela and Its
Hinterland. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.
———. “Aguida Gonçalves da Silva, une dona à Benguela à fin du XVIII siècle.”
Brésil(s). Sciences humaines et sociales 1 (mai 2012): 33–53.
———. “Benguela et l'espace atlantique sud au dix-huitième siècle.” Cahiers des Anneux
de la Mémoire 14 (2011): 223–44.
———. “Different Slave Journeys: Enslaved African Seamen on Board of Portuguese
Ships, c.1760–1820s,” Slavery and Abolition 31, no. 3 (2010): 395–409.
———. Fronteras de esclavización: esclavitud, comercio e identidad en Benguela,
1780–1850; traducción del ingles, María Capetillo Lozano—1a.ed.—México,
D.F.: Pedregal de Santa Teresa, El Colegio de México, Centro de Estudios de
Asia y África, 2011.
297
———. “O Limite Ténue Entre Liberdade e Escravidão em Benguela durante a Era do
Comércio Transatlântico,” in Afro-Ásia 47 (2013), 239–68.
Cardoso, João Luís and António Manuel Monge Soares, “A estação arqueológica de
Salamansa (ilha de São Vicente, República de Cabo Verde,” Revista Portuguesa
de Arqueologia 13, 2010: 167–214.
Carney, Judith. Black Rice: The African Origins of Rice Cultivation in the Americas.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001.
Carreira, António. “Aspectos da Influência da Cultura Portuguesa na Área Compreendida
entre o Rio Senegal e O Norte da Serra Leoa.” Separata da «Actas do Congresso
Internacional de Ethnografia», Promovido Pela Câmara Municipal de Santo Tirso, de 10
a 18 de Julho de 1963. Volume Quarto. Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de Investigações do
Ultramar, 1965.
———. As Companhias Pombalinas: de Grão-Pará e Maranhão e Pernambuco e
Paraíba. Lisbon, Portugal: Editorial Presença, 1982
———. “A Urzela e o pano de vestir—dois produtos de exportação,” Rev. Centro Estud.
Cabo Verde 1 (1) (1973), 24.
———. “O fundamento dos etnónimos na Guiné Portuguesa.” Garcia de Orta, 10 (2)
(1962):305-323.
———. Cabo Verde: formação e extinção de uma sociedade escravocrata (1460–1878).
Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto Caboverdeano do Livro, 1983.
———. “Conflitos sociais em Cabo Verde no século XVII,” Revista de História
Económica Social 15 (July.December 1985): 63–88.
———. “O Tráfico clandestine de escravos na Guiné e em Cabo Verde no século XIX,”
Raízes 2, no. 5/6 (1978):3-34.
———. Panaria Cabo-Verdeano Guinneense. Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto
Caboverdeano do Livro, 1983.
———. The People of the Cape Verde Islands, Exploitation and Emigration. Translated
from the Portuguese and edited by Christopher Fyfe. Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1982.
———. “Tratos e Resgates dos Portugueses nos Rios de Guiné e Ilhas de Cabo Verde
nos começos do século XVII,” Revista de História Económica e Social 2 (July–
December 1987): 91–103.
298
Cohen, Zelinda. Os filhos da folha (Cabo Verde—sécs XV–XVIII). Praia, Cape Verde:
Spleen Edições, 2007.
Correia e Silva, António. Espaço urbanos de Cabo Verde: o tempo das cidades-porto.
Lisbon, Portugal: CNCDP, 1998.
———. “Da Contestação social à transgressão cultural: forros e fujões na sociedade
escravocrata cabo-verdiana com referência aos modelos atlânticos.” Anais 3, no. 1 (April
2001): 7–18.
Curtin, Philip (Ed.). Africa Remembered; Narratives by West Africans from the Era of the
Slave Trade. 2nd ed. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1968.
———. Economic Change in Precolonial Africa: Senegambia in the Era of the Slave
Trade. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1975.
Curto, José. Enslaving Spirits: The Portuguese-Brazilian Alcohol Trade at Luanda and
Its Hinterland, c. 1550–1830. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2004.
Depelchin, Jacques. Silences in African History: Between the Syndromes of Discovery
and Abolition. Dar es Salaam, Tanzania: Mkuki na Nyota, 2004.
Diouf, Silviane A. (Ed.). Fighting the Slave Trade: West African Strategies, Athens: Ohio
University Press, 2003.
Duncan, T. Bentley. Atlantic Islands: Madeira, the Azores, and the Cape Verdes in
Seventeenth-Century, Commerce and Navigation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1972.
Dunkley, Daive A. Agency of the Enslaved: Jamaica and the Culture of Freedom in the
Atlantic World. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013.
El Hamel, Chouki. Black Morocco: A History of Slavery, Race, and Islam. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2013.
Fair, Laura. Pastimes and Politics: Culture, Community, and Identity in Post-Abolition
Urban Zanzibar, 1890-1945. Oxford: James Currey, 2001.
Fernandes, Gabriel. A diluição da África: uma interpretação da saga cabo-verdiana no
panorama político (pós)colonial. Florianópolis, Brazil: EDUFSC, 2002.
Ferreira, Roquinaldo. Cross-Cultural Exchange in the Atlantic World: Angola and Brazil
during the Era of the Slave Trade. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
———. “Dinâmica do Comércio Intra-Colonial: Geribitas, Panos Asiáticos e Guerra na
Tráfico Angolano de Escravos (Século XVIII),” in O Antigo Regime nos Trópicos: a
299
Dinâmica Imperial Portuguesa (séculos XVI-XVIII), edited by João Fragoso, Maria de
Fátima Silva Gouvêa, Maria Fernanda Baptista Bicalho. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: Nova
Fronteira, 2001, 339–78.
Fields-Black, Edda L. Deep Roots: Rice Farmers in West Africa and African Diaspora.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2008.
Filho, Wilson Trajano. “The Conservative Aspects of a Centripetal Diaspora: The Case of
the Cape Verdean Tabancas.” Africa 79, no. 4 (2009): 520-542.
Forrest, Joshua B. Lineages of State Fragility: Rural Civil Society in Guinea-Bissau.
Athens: Ohio University Press, 2003.
Furtado, Cláudio Alves Furtado. “Raça, Classe e Etnia nos estudos sobre e em Cabo
Verde: as marcas do silêncio.” Afro-Ásia 45 (2012): 143–4.
Gaspar, David Barry. “‘Subjects to the King of Portugal’: Captivity and Repatriation in
the Atlantic Slave Trade (Antigua 1724),” in The Creation of the British Atlantic World,
edited by Elizabeth Mancke and Carole Shammas. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 2005, 93–114.
Green, Toby (Ed.). Brokers of Change: Atlantic Commerce and Cultures in Precolonial
Western Africa. Published for the British Academy by Oxford University Press, 2012.
Green, Toby. “Buiding Creole Identity in the African Atlantic: Boundaries of Race and
Religion in 17th Century Cabo Verde,” History in Africa 36 (2009): 103–25.
———. “Building Slavery in the Atlantic World: Atlantic Connections and the Changing
Institution of Slavery in Cabo Verde, 15th–16th Centuries,” Slavery and Abolition 32, no.
2 (2011): 228–45.
———. “The Evolution of Creole Identity in Cape Verde,” in The Creolization Reader,
Studies in Mixed Identities and Cultures, edited, with an introduction, by Robin Cohen
and Paola Toninato. New York: Routledge, 2010: 157–66.
———. The Rise of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade in Western Africa, 1300–1589.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
Hall, Bruce. A History of Race in Muslim West Africa, 1600–1960. New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2011.
Havik, Philip J. “Gendering the Black Atlantic: Women’s Agency in Coastal Trade
Settlements in the Guinea Bissau Region,” in Women in Port: Gendering Communities,
Economies, and Social Networks in Atlantic Port Cities, 1500–1800 edited by Douglass
Catterall and Jodi Campbell. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2012, 315–56.
300
———. Silences and Soundbytes: The Gendered Dynamics of Trade and Brokerage in
the Pre-Colonial Guinea Bissau Region. Münster, Germany: Lit Verlag, 2004).
———. “Walking the Tightrope: Female Agency, Religious Practice, and the Portuguese
Inquisition on the Upper Guinea Coast (Seventeenth Century),” in Bridging the Early
Modern Atlantic World: People, Products, and Practices on the Move, edited by Carolina
A. Williams. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009, 173–91.
———. “The Port of Geba: At the Crossroads of Afro-Atlantic Trade and Culture.”
Mande Studies 9 (2007): 21.
Havik, Philip J., and Malyn Newitt (eds.). Creole Societies in the Portuguese Colonial
Empire. Bristol, UK: University of Bristol, Department of Hispanic, Portuguese and
Latin American Studies, 2007.
Hawthorne, Walter. “‘Being Now, As It Were, One Family’: Shipmate Bonding on the
Slave Vessel Emilia, in Rio de Janeiro and throughout the Atlantic World.” LusoBrazilian Review 45, no. 1 (2008): 53-77.
———. From Africa to Brazil: Culture, Identity, and an Atlantic Slave Trade, 1600–
1830. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
———. “Gorge: An African Seaman and His Flights from ‘Freedom’ back to ‘Slavery’
in the Early Nineteenth Century.” Slavery and Abolition 31, no. 3 (2010): 411–28.
———. Planting Rice and Harvesting Slaves: Transformation along the Guinea-Bissau
Coast, 1400–1900. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 2003.
Hawthorne, Walter, and Clara Carvalho. “Guinea-Bissau,” Part 6: West Africa, in Berg
Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, Vol. 1: Africa. Oxford and New York: Berg,
2010, 258-63.
Horta, José da Silva. A “Guiné do Cabo Verde”: Produção Textual e Representações
(1578–1684). Lisbon, Portugal: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, Fundação para a
Ciência, Tecnologia e Ensino Superior, 2011.
———.“Evidence for a Luso-African Identity in ‘Portuguese’ Accounts on ‘Guinea of
Cape Verde’ (Sixteenth-Seventeenth Centuries).” History in Africa Vol. 27 (2000), 99130.
Jacobs, Bart. “Upper Guinea Creole, Evidence in Favor of a Santiago Birth.” Journal of
Pidgin and Creole Languages 25, no. 2 (2010): 289–343.
Klingelhofer, Eric. (Ed.). First Forts: Essays on the Archaeology of Proto-Colonial
Fortifications. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2010.
301
Knight, Frederick C. Working the Diaspora: The Impact of African Labor on the AngloAmerican World, 1650–1850. New York: New York University Press, 2010.
Kriger, Colleen. Cloth in West African History. Lanham, MD: AltaMira Press, 2006.
———. “‘Guinea Cloth’: Production and Consumption of Cotton Textiles in West Africa
before and during the Atlantic Slave Trade,” in The Spinning World, A Global History of
Cotton Textile 1200–1850, edited by Giorgio Riello and Prasannan Parthasarathi. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2009: 105–26.
Laband, John. Bringers of War: The Portuguese in Africa during the Age of Gunpowder
and Sail from the 15th to 18th Century. Barnsley, England: Pen and Sword Books, 2013.
La Fleur, J. D. Fusion Foodways of Africa’s Gold Coast in the Atlantic Era. Leiden, The
Netherlands: Brill, 2012.
Lang, Jürgen, John Holm, Jean-Louis Rougé and Maria João Soares (Eds.). Cabo Verde:
origens de sua sociedade e do seu crioulo Tübingen, Germany: Gunter Narr, 2006.
Langworthy, Mark and Timothy J. Finan, Waiting for Rain: Agriculture and Ecological
Imbalance in Cape Verde. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1997.
Lara, Silvia Hunold. “The Signs of Color: Women’s Dress and Racial Relations in
Salvador and Rio de Janeiro, ca. 1750–1815.” Colonial Latin American Review 6, no. 2
(1997): 205–24.
Lawrance, Benjamin N., Emily Lynn Osborn, and Richard L. Roberts (Eds.).
Intermediaries, Interpreters, and Clerks: African Employees in the Making of Colonial
Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006.
Lima, Humberto. “O Erro de A. Carreira.” Cultura = Kultura Cabo Verde n.2 (1998):
33–43.
Lobban, Richard A., Jr. “Were the Portuguese the First to Visit Cape Verde? (1).”
Cimboa 5, no. 6 (1998): 118–28.
Lopes, Carlos. “Construção de Identidades nos Rios de Guiné do Cabo Verde.” Africana
Studia no. 6 (2003): 45–64.
Lopez, Carlos, (Ed.). Mansas, Escravos, Grumetes e Gentio: Cacheu na encruzilhada de
civilizações. Bissau, Guinea-Bissau: Instituto Nacional de Estudos e Pesquisa, 1993.
Lovejoy, Paul. Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in Africa. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2012.
302
Lovejoy, Paul and Toyin Falola. Pawnship, Slavery, and Colonialism in Africa, Trenton,
NJ: Africa World Press, 2003.
Mark, Peter. “Portuguese” Style and Luso-African Identity: Precolonial Senegambia,
Sixteenth-Nineteenth Centuries.Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002.
Mark, Peter, and José da Silva Horta The Forgotten Diaspora: Jewish Communities in
West Africa and the Making of the Atlantic World, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2011.
Matos, Artur Teodoro. “Santo Antão De Cabo Verde (1724–1732): da ocupação inglesa à
criação do regime municipal. Mutações políticas, recursos económicos e estruturas
sociais.” In A dimensão atlântica da África Reunião Internacional de História de África.
Rio de Janeiro 30 de Outubro a 1 de Novembro de 1996 (São Paulo: CEA/USP,
SGD/Marinha, CAPES, 1997), 187-202.
Meintel, Deirdre. Race, Culture, and Portuguese Colonialism in Cabo Verde. Syracuse,
NY: Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs, Syracuse University, 1984.
Mendes, Arlindo. “Significado da sulada em Santiago: um reparo etnográfico.” Revista
de Estudos Cabo-Verdianos no. 3 (December 2009): 79–106.
Mendy, Peter. Colonialismo Português em África: A Tradição de Resistênica na GuinéBissau (1879–1959). Bissau, Guinea-Bissau: Instituto Nacional de Estudos e Pesquisa,
1991.
Morgan, Philip. Slave Counterpoint: Black Culture in the Eighteenth-Century
Chesapeake & Lowcountry. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998.
Mouser, Bruce. “Rebellion, Marronage and Jihad: Strategies of Resistance to Slavery on
the Sierra Leone Coast, c.1783–1796.” Journal of African History 48 (2007): 27–44.
Nafafé, José Lingna. Colonial Encounters: Issues of Culture, Hybridity and Creolisation,
Portuguese Mercantile Settlers in West Africa. Frankfurt-am-Main, Germany: Peter
Lang, 2007.
Neto, Sérgio. Colónia mártir, colónia modelo: Cabo Verde no pensamento ultramarino
português (1925–1965). Coimbra, Portugal: Imprensa Universidade de Coimbra, 2009.
Newson, Linda A. “Africans and Luso-Africans in the Portuguese Slave Trade on the
Upper Guinea Coast in the Early Seventeenth Century.” Journal of African History 53,
no. 1 (March 2012): 1–24.
Newson, Linda A., and Susie Minchin. From Capture to Sale: The Portuguese Slave
Trade to Spanish South America in the Early Seventeenth Century. Leiden, The
Netherlands: Brill, 2007.
303
Nwokeji, G. Ugo. The Slave Trade and Culture in the Bight of Biafra: An African Society
in the Atlantic World. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
Osório, Oswaldo. Cantigas de Trabalho, Tradições orais de Cabo Verde. Comissão
Nacional para as Comemorações do 5 Aniversário da Independência de Cabo Verde-SubCommissão para a Cultura, 1980.
Pantoja, Selma “Gênero e comércio: as traficantes de escravos na região de Angola.”
Travessias. Revista de Ciências Sociais e Humanas em Língua Portuguesa no. 4/5
(2004): 79–97.
Patterson, K. David. “Famine, and Population in the Cape Verde Islands, 1580–1900.”
International Journal of African Historical Studies 21, no. 2 (1988): 291–313.
Pélissier, René. História da Guiné, Portugueses e Africanos na Senegâmbia (1841–
1936), Vol. I. Lisbon, Portugal: Editorial Estampa, 1989.
Pereira, Ana Mafalda Gomes Furtado Subsídios para História da Educação em Cabo
Verde: Organização e Funcionamento do Sector dos Primóridos à República
Portuguesa. Praia, Cape Verde: Instituto do Arquivo Histório Naciona, 2010.
Pereira, Daniel. Estudos da História de Cabo Verde. 2nd Ed. Praia, Cape Verde: AlfaComunicações, 2005.
———. Das relações históricas Cabo Verde-Brasil. Brasília, Brazil: Fundação
Alexandre de Gusmão, 2011.
Pratt, Mary Louise. Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. New York:
Routledge, 1992.
Querido, Jorge. Um Demorado Olhar sobre Cabo Verde: O País, sua Génese, seu
Percurso suas Certezas e Ambiguidades. Lisbon: Chiado Editora, 2011.
Reis Pires, Fernando de Jesus Monteiro dos. Da Cidade da Ribeira Grande à Cidade
Velha em Cabo Verde: Análise Histórico-formal do espaço urbano séc. XV–XVIII. Praia,
Cape Verde: Universidade de Cabo Verde, 2007.
Ribeiro da Silva, Filipa. Dutch and Portuguese in Western Africa: Empires, Merchants
and the Atlantic System, 1580–1674. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2011.
Ribeiro, Orlando. A Ilha do Fogo e as suas erupções. 2nd ed. Memórias Séries Geográfica
I. Lisbon, Portugal: Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 1960.
Richardson, David. ‘Shipboard Revolts, African Authority, and the African Slave Trade.”
William and Mary Quarterly 58 (2001): 69–92.
304
Robertson, Claire C., and Martin A. Klein (Eds.). Women and Slavery in Africa
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983.
Rodney, Walter. “African Slavery and Other Forms of Social Oppression on the Upper
Guinea Coast in the Context of the Atlantic Slave-Trade.” Journal of African History 7,
no. 3 (1966): 431–43.
———. A History of the Upper Guinea Coast. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1970.
———. “A Reconsideration of the Mane Invasions of Sierra Leone.” Journal of African
History 8, no. 2 (1967): 219–46.
Rodrigues, Isabel P.B. Fêo. “Islands of Sexuality: Theories and Histories of Creolization
in Cape Verde.” Special Issue: Colonial Encounters between Africa and Portugal.
International Journal of African Historical Studies 36, no. 1 (2003): 83–103.
Sansi-Roca, Roger. “The Fetish in the Lusophone Atlantic,” in Cultures of the Lusophone
Black Atlantic, edited by Nancy Priscilla Naro, Roger Sansi-Roca, and David H. Treece.
New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007: 19–39.
Santos, Maria Emília Madeira. (Ed.). História Geral de Cabo Verde. 2nd ed. Vol. II.
Lisbon, Portugal: Centro de Estudos de História e Cartografia Antiga Instituto de
Investigação Científica Tropical; Praia. Cape Verde: Instituto Nacional de Investigação
Cultural Cabo Verde, 2001.
Schwartz, Stuart B. All Can Be Saved: Religious Tolerance and Salvation in the Iberian
World. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008.
Semedo, José Maria, & Maria R. Turano. Cabo Verde: O Ciclo Ritual das Festividades
da Tabanca. Praia, Cape Verde: Spleen Edições, 1997.
Smith, Stefan Halikowski. Creolization and Diaspora in the Portuguese Indies: The
Social World of Ayutthaya, 1640–1720. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2011.
Sørensen, M. L. S., C. Evans, and K. Richter. “A Place of History: Archaeology and
Heritage at Cidade Velha, Cape Verde,” in Slavery in Africa: Archaelogy and Memory,
edited in P. J. Lane and K. C. MacDonald. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011: 421–
42.
Shumway, Rebecca. The Fante and the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Rochester, NY:
University of Rochester Press, 2011.
Stevenson, Jane. “Richard Ligon and the Theatre of Empire,” in Shaping the Stuart
World 1603–1714: The Atlantic Connection, edited by Allan I. Macinnes and Arthur H.
Williamson. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2006: 285–301.
305
Studnicki-Gizbert, Daviken. A Nation upon the Ocean Sea: Portugal’s Atlantic Diaspora
and the Crisis of the Spanish Empire, 1492–1640. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2007.
Sweets, James H. Domingos Álvares, African Healing, and the Intellectual History of the
Atlantic World. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011.
Taylor, Eric Robert. If We Must Die: Shipboard Insurrections in the Era of the Atlantic
Slave Trade. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2006.
Torrão, Maria Manuel. “Subsídios para a História Geral de Cabo Verde: O Algodão da
Ilha do Fogo: Uma Matéria-Prima de Produção Afro-Europeia para uma Manufactura
Africana.” Magma 3, no. 5/6 (Maio 1990): 47–50.
Torrão, Maria Manuel, and Maria João Soares. “The Mande Through and In the Cape
Verde Islands.” Mande Studies 9 (2007): 135–47.
Turano, Maria R., and José Maria Semedo. Cabo Verde: O Ciclo Ritual das Festividades
da Tabanca. Praia, Cape Verde: Spleen Edições, 1997.
———.‘Il verde mare delle tenebre’, Capo Verde: la Commissione mista luso-britannica
a Boa Vista e la soppressione della tratta negriera atlantica (1807–1851). Lecce, Italy:
Argo, 2001.
Thorthon, John. Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400-1800.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
———. The Kongolese Saint Antony: Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the Antonian
Movement, 1684–1706. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
Thorthon, John, and Linda M. Heywood. Central Africans, Atlantic Creoles, and the
Foundation of the Americas, 1585–1660. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007.
Viera, Henrique Lubrano de Santa-Rita. O História de Medicina em Cabo Verde. Praia,
Cape Verde: Instituto Caboverdiano do Livro e do Disco, 1987.
Webb, James. Desert Frontier: Ecological Change along the Western Sahel (1600–
1850). Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1995.
Wheeler, Douglas L. "Angolan Woman of Means: D. Ana Joaquina dos Santos e Silva,
Mid-Nineteenth Century Luso-African Merchant-Capitalist of Luanda." Portuguese
Studies 3 (1996): 284–97.
306
Unpublished Secondary Sources
Filho, Wilson Trajano, “Polymorphic Creoledom: The “Creole” Society of GuineaBissau.” Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, 1998.
Gijanto, Liza A. “Change and the Era of the Atlantic Trade: Commerce and Interaction in
the Niumi Commercial Center (The Gambia).” Ph.D. diss., Syracuse University,
Syracuse, NY, 2010.
Hall, Trevor P. “The Role of Cape Verde Islanders in Organizing and Operating
Maritime Trade between West Africa and Iberian Territories, 1441–1616.” Ph.D. diss.,
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, MD, 1993.
Misevich, Philip R. “On the Frontier of ‘Freedom’: Abolition and the Transformation of
Atlantic Commerce in Southern Sierra Leone, 1790s to 1860s.” Ph.D. diss., Emory
University, Atlanta, GA, 2009.
Richter, Konstantin Alexander Richter. “The Historical Religious Buildings of Ribeira
Grande: Implementation of Christian Models in the Early Colonies, 15th till 17th Century,
on the example of Cape Verde Islands,” Vol. I. Ph.D. diss., Universidade da Madeira,
Madeira, Portugal, 2008.
307