Chapter XIII: The University of Sankoré

The Queen of the Sudan would have been adorned with an imperfect diadem if the crowning glory of Art had been wanting.

Insuperable objections prevented her possession of monuments. Neither wood nor stone existed in her neighbourhood, not even plaster was at her disposal, and the priceless clay of Jenne is not to be found on the threshold of the desert. These facts are sufficient excuse for my not giving a long account of the architecture of the great mosques of Timbuctoo (Gingharaber and Sankoré) and the oratory of Sidi Yaia. The dimensions of these buildings greatly exceed those of the ordinary dwellings; but a mere collection of walls, more or less high, long and thick, can scarcely be called a work of art, and nothing in these temples recalls the happy decorative harmony of the old mosque of Jenne. In a distant view of the city, their three minarets, looking like abbreviated pyramids, represent their only interest.[13]

Unable, therefore, to develop the sensuous arts, Timbuctoo reserved all her strength for the intellectual, and here her dominion was supreme. The city became the religious, scientific, and literary centre of the Nigerian regions. ‘Salt comes from the north, gold from the south, and silver from the country of the white men, but the word of God and the treasures of wisdom are only to be found in Timbuctoo,’ says an old Sudanese proverb.

It would perhaps be an exaggeration to put the school of Timbuctoo on a level with those of Syria, Spain, Morocco, and, above all, Egypt; for I must admit that I have not found among her libraries any work equal in literary glory to those masterpieces of the Arabian language and intellect--the _Hariri_, the _Hamadani_, or the Bedouin _Kaisadas_. For all that, Timbuctoo was not merely the great intellectual nucleus of the Sudan, that is to say, of the negroes--she was also one of the great scientific centres of Islam itself, her university being the younger sister of those of Cairo, Cordova, Fez, and Damascus. Her collection of ancient manuscripts leaves us in no doubt upon the point, and permits us to reconstruct this side of her past in its smallest details.

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It is in Eastern Africa that the origin of the intellectual glory of Timbuctoo must be sought, and it is to the Moors that it must be attributed. We know that this fraction of the Berber peoples adopted the religion of their Arabian conquerors, and it was through the Moorish tribes who ranged along the Atlantic coast that Islamism penetrated to the country of the blacks in the ninth century. Wherever the Mussulman religion found foothold it was invariably followed by the language of the Koran and the Arabian sciences. The holy book contained, or should contain, everything needful for a disciple of Mahomet. It gave laws to man and regulated his faith, whether religious or philosophical. The Koran was a code in which everything was decreed--so much so, indeed, that to elucidate it was to teach religion, philosophy, and law. Grammar and literature were also founded on it, for they were taught on the lines of the language employed by the editor of the holy book and illustrated by examples taken from it.

Thus the Arabian language and culture spread over the frontiers of the negro countries. Oualata, ‘where the holiest and most learned men resided,’ became its bulwark; and upon the emigration of her people to Timbuctoo, the latter town became the palladium of the faith. The Moorish poets and scholars of Spain brought with them the harvests of Grenada and Cordova. The caravans from the north spread abroad the progress of Fez, Marrakesh, and Tunis; and the annual pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina proved the means of disseminating the many advantages of Cairo. Timbuctoo, more than any other town, was enabled to profit by the conquests of Arabian intellect and to collect and arrange large libraries. Market of merchandise as she was, she also became the storehouse of the Arabian language and science, spreading them afar with her textiles and salt.

The confusion of tongues prevailing in the metropolis of the Sudan necessitated a common language, and Songhois, Foulbes, Toucouleurs, Touaregs, Bambaras, Mossi, Haoussankas, Malinkas, etc., all used Arabic as the vehicle of a mutual comprehension.

An entire class of the population was devoted to the study of letters, being called fakirs or sheiks by the old manuscripts, and marabuts by the Sudanese of to-day. The first term carries the meaning of jurist, ‘those who know the law,’ and is interesting, as it proves that the scientific movement originated from the study of the judicial principles contained in the Koran. The name sheik or marabut is preferable for present use, as it signifies both priest and doctor, and therefore better expresses the dual character of the Sudanese scholar.

The marabut is a man who, by his devotion to Islam and his application of the duties indicated by the Koran, by his profound knowledge of the holy writ, his learning and the dignity of his personal life, sets an example to all true believers. He belongs in general to a family which, so to speak, makes a profession of devotion and science; this twofold reputation descends from father to son, and is sustained by pilgrimages to the holy places and sojourns in the great Arabian universities. We possess the biographies of several hundreds of these learned men, and all are related to one another in a more or less direct line. A cerebral refinement was thus produced among a certain proportion of the negraic population which has had surprising results, as we shall see later, and which gives the categorical lie to the theorists who insist upon the inferiority of the black races.

These pious and cultured families of Timbuctoo lived within the precincts of the mosque of Sankoré, and formed a locality analogous to the Quartier Latin of Paris. They were held in great esteem by both dignitaries and people. ‘The learned Ahmed (father to Ahmed Baba the writer) was attacked by a dangerous illness. In order to render homage to the merits and piety of this holy man, the sultan went every evening to pass several hours by his bed of suffering, continuing this assiduity until the pious sheik was completely recovered.’ For a long time a portion of the taxes (the _diaka_ or tenth) was reserved for these marabuts. The Songhoi kings pensioned the most celebrated, and they received many gifts, especially in the month of Ramadan. They were intrusted with the education of children, and, to ensure them the tranquillity so necessary to the man of thought and letters, their affairs were managed and their properties cultivated by their slaves.

Each marabut followed his special vocation. Some confined themselves to the study of religion and the service of God and the mosque, others practised law, becoming magistrates or kadi, and a great number consecrated their lives to the art of teaching. It was not unusual to see two, or even all three, of these professions united in one person, and the study of books and the art of writing them were pursued by all.

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Having already described the rich metropolis and the city of pleasure, we will now, with the aid of the marabuts who consecrated themselves to God, resuscitate that Holy City of which the _Tarik_ proudly says, ‘Never has Timbuctoo been sullied by the worship of idols nor by rendering homage to any other deity than the merciful God. It is the dwelling-place of wise men, the servants of the Most High, and the perpetual habitation of saints and ascetics.’

The marabuts, under the direction of the Sheik-ul-Islam and the imans, called the faithful to prayers, held public readings of the sacred writings, and preached during the month of Ramadan, the great Mussulman fast. Some, like the recluses of the Thebaïd, withdrew from the world and fasted incessantly. They passed entire nights in prayer in the mosque, and were full of care and pity for orphans. Others--but let us rather admire the perfect picture given in the original.

‘The very learned and pious sheik, Abou Abdallah, had no property, all his goods went to succour the poor and unhappy, and he bought slaves that he might give them their liberty. His house had no door, every one entered unannounced, and men came to see him from all parts and at all hours, especially on Sundays after the two o’clock prayer. Moors and Arabs flocked to him in crowds as soon as they learned his virtues.’

We might be reading the life of some Christian saint; and numerous miracles are not lacking to complete the resemblance. The following was accomplished by a marabut who lived somewhere about the year 1330: ‘The fakir El Hadj, grandfather of the Kadi Abderrahman, was living in Bankou when the king of Mali attacked that town. The people gathered round him before going to battle, and he instructed them to eat of a certain herb. With the exception of one man, all did as they were directed. Then said El Hadj, “Go forth to battle, and the arrows of the enemy shall have no power to hurt you.” They all returned safe and victorious, with the exception of the man who would not eat, and he had died in the contest.’ A no less extraordinary incident happened to the great-great-grandfather of the celebrated writer Ahmed Baba. ‘Being in Medina (Arabia), he asked permission to visit the tomb of the Prophet. This grace being denied to him, he sat down upon the threshold and recited the litanies of God’s elect. The door immediately opened of its own accord, and the priests, amazed by this marvel, humiliated themselves before him and kissed his hands.’

The life of Sidi Yaia, the patron of Timbuctoo, is particularly full of miracles. One day, as he was holding an open-air reading of the Koran, a cloud appeared overhead and rain fell. The rain being followed by a clap of thunder, his disciples arose to seek shelter. ‘Remain in your places,’ said Sidi Yaia, ‘it will not rain upon this spot.’ And thus it happened. The following anecdote is equally remarkable: ‘His female slaves wished to cook a fish, and for a whole day they submitted it to the action of the fire without result. The women were astounded, but Sidi Yaia, overhearing their talk, said to them, “As I went to pray in the mosque this morning my foot touched something moist; it was probably your fish, for that which my body has touched fire has no power to burn!”’

Miracles being so plentiful, it will surprise no one to learn that the marabuts were on equally familiar terms with prophecies and visions. The departure from Marrakesh of the Moorish army which was to conquer the Sudan was announced on the same day to the people of Timbuctoo by the fakir Abderrahman. ‘After reciting the morning prayer,’ says the _Tarik_, ‘he invoked the name of Allah three times, and said, “This year thou shalt hear many things, the like of which thou hast never heard, and thou shalt see many things, the like of which thou hast never seen!”’

In the early part of Sidi Yaia’s life, Mahomet was wont to appear to him every night, but as he grew older these visits became less frequent, until finally the Prophet only appeared to him once a year. When asked the reason of this remissness, Sidi Yaia replied, ‘The only reason which occurs to me is, that formerly I paid no attention to trade, and now I devote a good deal of time to it.’ ‘But why do you do so?’ ‘Because I have no wish to be dependent on others,’ answered the saint.

Mohammed Neddo, who governed Timbuctoo in the name of the Touaregs shortly before its conquest by Sunni Ali, was on very intimate terms with Sidi Yaia. Towards the end of his life it was shown to Neddo in a dream that though the sun had set the moon had not risen. This portentous vision was imparted to his friend, who said, ‘Art thou afraid to learn the meaning of this dream?’ ‘I am not afraid,’ was the reply. ‘It signifies, then, that I shall die very soon, and that you will die shortly after.’ Neddo was overcome with sadness. ‘Art thou afraid?’ asked Sidi Yaia. ‘This sadness is not caused by fear of death,’ answered Neddo, ‘but by the great love I bear for my little children.’ ‘Confide them to God,’ said the prophet. Sidi Yaia died shortly after this, and Neddo soon followed him, and was buried by the side of his friend in the mosque he had built.

The marks of divine favour by which Allah distinguished his marabuts from other believers were even manifested after death. A certain sheik had given instructions that only one of his disciples should be permitted to prepare his funeral toilet. When the time came the disciple found a lighted taper by the side of the corpse. He commanded that it should be extinguished and the grave-clothes brought. When the winding-sheet was spread over the body it immediately gave forth such a marvellous light that the whole chamber was illuminated by it.

The old chronicles relate a thousand incidents as remarkable in every way as those I have just quoted. A learned doctor of Timbuctoo was justified in saying, ‘The holy men of this city were not surpassed in piety by the companions of the Prophet.’ These pious individuals were called _Oualiou_, and men of evil life, who found their last moments full of the fear of the Lord, requested that they might be buried near these saints, in order that the departed should intercede for them with the Most High. Pilgrimages were made to their houses and their gardens. Miracles were asked for, and granted, because--well, because there is no reason why they should not be granted when asked for by true believers.

North, south, east, and west of the town, upon the crests of the dunes, are built the little chapels which mark their graves and form a rampart of sanctity round the city. Wishing to visit these dunes, in memory of the charming tales which had grown out of the dust of those who slept there, my servant and I sallied forth one morning, with Winchesters duly charged in readiness for the Touaregs. Scarcely a dozen of these _edicules_ are still standing under the sickly shade cast by a few of the consumptive trees of the desert. We found an old man before one of them, a marabut of the present who had come to visit his brothers of the past. He had opened the door of one of the little chapels, and its interior showed a small clay mound covered with pieces of a coarse stuff. Sitting on the threshold, the old man quavered a few verses from the Koran.

It was the only sound we heard, and he was the only living being we met in the white furnace of the sands, the vast field of death which surrounds the city. At every step the foot knocked against some skull, tibia, or even an entire skeleton, the remains of bygone generations, and of corpses confided yesterday to the inconstant sands, and disinterred to-day by the wild beasts of the desert. The sternness and sterility of the desert, and the accumulated death encircling me, recalled the vision of the Valley of Jehoshaphat spreading before the walls of Jerusalem the Holy, whose soil, like this, produces only an efflorescence of death.

The marabuts, who devoted themselves to the study of law, administered justice according to the precepts of the Koran and the decisions contained in the most important works of the Arabian jurists. They also made inventories of property, determining its succession, and generally filling the position of lawyer.

The scholars of Timbuctoo yielded in nothing to the saints and their miracles. During their sojourns in the foreign universities of Fez, Tunis, and Cairo, ‘they astounded the most learned men of Islam by their erudition.’ That these negroes were on a level with the Arabian savants is proved by the fact that they were installed as professors in Morocco and Egypt. In contrast to this we find that the Arabs were not always equal to the requirements of Sankoré. ‘A celebrated jurist of Hedjaz (Arabia), arriving in Timbuctoo with the intention of teaching, found the town full of Sudanese scholars. Observing them to be his superiors in knowledge, he withdrew to Fez, where he succeeded in obtaining employment.’

The profession of teaching was absolutely free, its only qualification consisting of a sufficiently large audience. If one may believe their biographies, these masters were of rare merit, full of kindliness and goodwill towards their pupils, and keenly alive to the responsibilities of their position. They would refuse the exalted and lucrative post of iman in order to continue their profession. One of them ‘multiplied obstacles to avoid being made Grand Kadi.’

The following is a description of the daily occupations of Mohammed ben Abou Bakr, one of the most respected scholars of his day: ‘He gave lectures on different subjects from early morning until ten o’clock. After returning home for prayer he went to the kadi to settle the affairs of his clients and act as mediator between disputants. He recited the mid-day prayer in public, and taught in his own house until three o’clock; he then said the prayer of _asr_, and went out to teach in a different place until dusk, and after sunset he gave a final lecture in the mosque.’

Here is the portrait of a professor of whom it was written, ‘The Sudan did not possess another as learned and pious.’ He was endowed with every imaginable gift, and was, in fact, none other than Sidi Yaia himself, the patron of Timbuctoo; and we shall see him under the triple aspect of saint, kadi, and scholar:--

‘He was gifted with a calm intelligence which was only equalled by his infallible memory. His science was universal, his whole personality commanded respect and obedience, and many men owned no other rule of conduct than the precepts which fell from his lips. People came in crowds to ask his blessing, bringing with them gifts of considerable value. He received all these visitors with great modesty, and invariably gave their presents away to others. On being elected kadi he abolished many of the abuses and corrupt practices of the tribunal, and was a model of equity in the eyes of all true believers. The pressing duties of magistracy in no way abated his ardour for teaching, and by his eloquence he charmed all who listened to him. What clearness of explanation! How sure and easy a guide was his method! Such an intellect was surely created to revolutionise!’ Sidi Yaia, in fact, resuscitated the sciences in the negro countries, and instructed many young men who afterwards distinguished themselves in letters. His life was as long as it was useful; he lived to the age of eighty-seven (1373-1462), and was employed in teaching during fifty of those years.

It would be superfluous to insist that these learned men must have possessed marvellous libraries, for their catalogues are mentioned by the Sudanese authors. Religious, judicial, and grammatical works occupy the first place. They consist of collections of traditions concerning the Prophet, such as the _Sahih of Bokhari_, the _Djana of Essoyouti_, the _Sahih of Moslem_, and the _Sogra_, in which the author says that, having been transported to Paradise, he saw Abraham engaged in teaching little children and setting them copies to write. The _Alfyga_ is a grammatical treatise, and the _Chemail of Termedi_ contains a description of the qualities of the Prophet, his private life and policy. Finally, works on law are represented by the doctrines of the sect of Iman Malek, including the numerous commentaries to which they gave birth, the abridgment of Sidi Khalil, the _Risala_ of Abou-Zaid of Kairwan, etc.

Poetry and works of imagination are not lacking, nor compositions of a kind peculiar to Arabian literature; such as the _Hariri_ and _Hamadani_. I found a copy of the _Choice of Marvels_, composed at Mossul by the learned Abu Abdallah ben Abderrahim of Grenada in the year 1160. The historical and geographical works of Morocco, Tunis, and Egypt were well known in Timbuctoo (Ibn Batouta being often quoted), and the pure sciences were represented by books on astronomy and medicine. In short, the libraries of Timbuctoo may be said to have included almost the whole of Arabian literature.

Amongst other trades, the city made a speciality of manuscripts. ‘Books sell very well there,’ said Léon the African, ‘and a greater profit is to be made out of them than out of any other merchandise.’ The learned doctors were, to use an expression which may appear strange when applied to negroes, bibliophiles. In the best sense of the word, be it understood; they had no mania for collecting uncut books and bindings, but were true lovers of books. We see them ‘searching with a real passion for volumes they did not possess,’ and making copies when they were too poor to buy what they wanted. They would in this manner collect from seven hundred to two thousand volumes; and in marked contrast to the miserly book-lovers of our day, these bibliophiles experienced a real joy in sharing their most precious manuscripts with others. ‘Abou Bakr loved the friends of science, and paid them every sort of attention. He would lend them his most cherished books and never ask for them back again, however rare they might be. He lavished his entire library in this manner (may Allah reward him!); the student who came to his door to borrow was never denied, and this is the more remarkable, as he was passionately devoted to books, and would only obtain his reward in heaven.’

The libraries of Timbuctoo were sadly reduced by the pillage of the Foulbes and Toucouleurs. At the present time the marabuts and kadis are best provided, but every wealthy inhabitant prides himself upon the possession of a few books. He does not often read them, it is true, but he likes to show them, which, to him, is almost as good.

In spite of this I found it very difficult to procure any books in the early part of my stay. They were afraid I should practise the nefarious customs of the Toucouleurs and Foulbes. After I had gained some credit among them, a few solitary pages were lent to me, and when they saw that I treated them tenderly and faithfully returned them, they decided to trust me with whole volumes. I never succeeded in inducing any of them to sell me a book, however much I offered for it, and had to content myself with copying all that seemed interesting to me. One man told me the history of a unique volume which he had parted with to a merchant from the south, and had regretted ever since. He had received forty gros of gold for it, which, at the rate of ten francs a gros, represents a respectable sum for a book, even in France.

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From the masters we will turn to the pupils. These flocked to the city from all sides, from the desert, Morocco, and all parts of the Sudan. Jenne and the secondary intellectual circles, such as Tindirma, Dia, Sa, Korienza, etc., served as preparatory schools for Timbuctoo. The sons of the Songhoi kings quitted the palaces of Gao, and the children of the Touaregs deserted their great tents to receive an education at the University of Sankoré. The _Tarik_ mentions this interesting fact: ‘One of the Askia, Mohammed Bankouri, collected an army with which to dispute the supreme power with a king proclaimed at Gao. Pausing at Timbuctoo, and having conversed with the Grand Kadi, he requested him to write a letter to his rival, saying that he, Bankouri, renounced the throne that he might follow the life of a student in this city of books.’ Side by side with princes and sons of chieftains came poor wretches, eager for knowledge, who were supported by the dignitaries of the town, and by those merchants who liked to play the _rôle_ of Mæcenas.

The student or _Taliba_ arrives armed with the groundwork of instruction; some small marabut of his native country having taught him to read and write. It is a picture one constantly sees in the Sudan. In the shade before the schoolmaster’s house, a collection of children are gathered together in the coolest corner. Arranged in circles and sitting on their heels, they repeat verses of the Koran in chorus, following the inflections, marking the pauses, and imitating the tone indicated to them. They learn to form the Arabic characters by copying a page of the holy book on the wooden tablets which take the place of the too costly paper. From time to time the tablet is washed and set in the sun to dry, after which it is again ready for use.

Reading and writing being accomplished, the master delivers a grammatical and exegetical explanation of the text. He either takes the words one by one, or grouped in sentences, and discourses on the rules of syntax, explains the meaning of the passage, and adds some religious or historical reflections. When the entire Koran has been gone through, the parents, who have offered weekly presents of cowries or in kind, make a final and more extensive present to the professor, and invite him to a little _fête_ given to their friends and acquaintances.

The young man is now prepared for the reading of works of greater importance of another kind. I say ‘reading’ designedly, for Arabian instructions consist less of lessons _ex professo_ than of the explanation of books.

Thus prepared, the _Taliba_ sets out for Timbuctoo, and there he usually studies under several masters, each of whom makes a speciality of elucidating some particular work. He goes from one to another, according to their merits or the dictates of his own fancy. The lessons are given under the arcades of the mosque of Sankoré, or in the court or gardens of the teacher’s house.

The branches of instruction were many and various. The theologians commented upon and analysed the great sacred books, and taught rhetoric, logic, eloquence, and diction in order to prepare the student to spread abroad the words of God and maintain controversies. The jurist expounded the law according to the Malekite dogmas, and the stylists taught the art of writing ‘in ornamental terms.’ Others professed grammar, prosody, philology, astronomy, and ethnography; and others again were ‘very versed in the traditions, biographies, annals, and histories of mankind.’ Mathematics do not appear to have formed a special course; and as for medicine, the grossest empiricism was mingled with the hygienic principles of the therapeutic Arab. A certain sheik is shown curing a toothache ‘with a little earth from his garden,’ and, worse than that, ‘a great personage having been attacked by leprosy, doctors came from all parts of Africa to prescribe for him. One of them said, “He can only be cured by eating the heart of a young man.” The emir instantly ordered one to be killed, but it did no good, and the great personage died of his disease.’

These studies were exceedingly long. ‘We were three years over the explanation of the Teshil of the Iman Malek before we acquired a thorough mastery of the subtleties of the Arabian language,’ says a writer of Timbuctoo. Physical education, on the other hand, was grossly neglected. Even in the time of Sunni Ali the children were forbidden to play or practise bodily exercises. When the learned men, pursued by the tyrant, were obliged to quit Timbuctoo, ‘they did not know how to mount a camel, and fell miserably to the ground.’

The students, having completed their education, receive a diploma or licence to teach. They are now marabuts in their turn, and all the liberal careers of the Sudan are open to them. They can enter the mosques and become imans or preachers in some small town, or they can aspire to the position of kadi, or assistant-kadi, in their own country. Some adopt the careers of their masters and found fresh families of sheiks.

Rich merchants often take one of these young men into their household, where he plays a part analogous to that formerly occupied by the chaplain in European families. He occupies himself with the education of the children, reads aloud to the head of the family, and writes his letters. He also gives his opinion on matters of hygiene and morality, superintends the merchant’s charities, and tells him amusing stories. Other _Talibas_ gain a livelihood by giving lessons in the Arabian language and writing to the negro strangers passing through Timbuctoo. A great number fill the office of public scribe, and undertake the correspondence of different merchants; they also copy books, for which they are paid from fifteen to one hundred francs, according to the importance of the work.

Thieves and hypocrites may also be counted among their numbers. These exploit the credulous and cultivate superstition among the people, reducing Islamism to the level of the fetich-worship and the practice of magic, brought from Egypt by the ancestors of the Songhois. They will prepare noxious potions for a consideration, and hold somnambulistic consultations. They foretell the failure or success of a journey or enterprise, manufacture talismans, and profess to cast spells. The traffic of talismans or _gris-gris_ is particularly lucrative, their principal clients being Touaregs and negroes. These _gris-gris_ consist of prayers or invocations, written on a morsel of stuff and sewn up in a leathern bag. They are suspended from the walls of houses to keep away demons and djinns, and to serve as a protection against enemies. Certain rigmaroles read on a Monday or a Friday will protect travellers on their journeys. I have even discovered a ‘recipe for driving away locusts.’ Here it is: ‘Any one desiring this, should write upon four sheets of paper the prayer I have composed, and place one in each corner of his field. He must then take a yellow and a red locust and pronounce the first verse of my prayer seven times, after which he must say, “O Locust, if thou and thy companions do not quit this field, thou shalt be charged with the abominable sin of him who hath relations with mother and daughter.”’

A learned man of great celebrity, El Moucheïli, wrote a book on these charlatans, entitled, ‘Advice to honest people against allowing themselves to be duped by pretended marabuts.’