Slaves, Spices and Ivory in Zanzibar. Abdul Sheriff

Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Slaves, Spices and Ivory in Zanzibar - Abdul Sheriff страница 14

Slaves, Spices and Ivory in Zanzibar - Abdul Sheriff Eastern African Studies

Скачать книгу

our acceding to your proposal.’ When Owen declared the protectorate anyway, the Bombay governor argued strenuously that the Sultan of Oman:

      has always been our faithful and cordial ally and not only has he cooperated with us in all our attempts to put down piracy in the Persian Gulf, but has on more than one occasion refrained from enterprises that promised to be profitable to him, because we represented to him that his engaging in them would be inconsistent with our policy.44

      Faced with the outstretched hands of two suitors clamouring for protection under their hegemony, the British accepted that of their old and faithful protégés, the Busaidi, who were not only already subservient to British power, but were also still capable of subjugating Mombasa to their own, and ultimately, therefore, to British overlordship.

      British protection over Mombasa was therefore withdrawn in 1826, but anxious not to provide an opening for the French the British government recommended a policy of conciliation with the Mazrui to the Omanis. Deprived of British support, the Mazrui were now forced to compromise. They were prepared to acknowledge formal Omani suzerainty and resume payment of tribute, but they demanded a confirmation of their hereditary claims to the governorship and refused to surrender Fort Jesus. Although the Sultan was unable to take Fort Jesus by force of arms, and unable to keep it when he took it by treachery, the economic blockade that he imposed on Mombasa began to create severe strains in the network of alliances which had formed the basis of Mombasa’s independence. Its collapse facilitated the final coup de grace in 1837. The leading Mazrui were either deported or fled to establish their own petty states along the Kenya coast. However, the merchant class of Mombasa, consisting of the other Arabs, the Swahili and their Mijikenda allies, were incorporated within the emerging Omani commercial empire.45

      The common experience of Portuguese oppression had brought together the Swahili and Omani merchant classes in a partnership to overthrow Portuguese rule north of Cape Delgado. But that partnership was unequal. Though they pretended to walk on high stilts of political independence, the Swahili merchant classes were politically too fragmented and economically too dependent on international trade to stand on their own feet. The Omanis, on the other hand, had started from the interior which provided a more secure economic and political base for their independence. However, with the rise of the merchant class to political dominance the centre of economic and political gravity shifted to the coast, and the economy and the state became increasingly dependent on international trade. This shift, moreover, coincided with the rise of capitalism in Europe and the inauguration of an epoch of world domination by capital. The merchant class flourished with the expansion of international trade that the rise of capitalism entailed. But the Omani state that they ruled was simultaneously subordinated, being converted into a compradorial state that acted as an economic and political agent of the foremost capitalist state of the era, Britain.

      Through the agency of Omani expansionism the East African coast thus began to be integrated, if indirectly, into the international capitalist-dominated system. However, other economic forces, emanating also from the development of capitalism, began to impinge directly on the East African coast from the last quarter of the eighteenth century, more effectively integrating it into the system, economically and ultimately politically.

       Notes

      1. The word ‘Swahili’ is derived from the Arabic word which means the coast. It is used to refer to Kiswahili, a Bantu language with a considerable number of Arabic, Persian and Indian loanwords, betraying its maritime and mercantile history. It is also used to refer to Waswahili, coastal people who speak the language and are generally Muslim, and to the coastal Muslim culture generally. See Nicholls, p. 19; Prins (1965), pp. 24–7, 38–49; Whiteley (1969), p. vii; Krumm, p. 2.

      2. Kirk, pp. 263–7; McMaster, pp. 13–24; Datoo (1974), pp. 23–33.

      3. Sheriff (1975a), pp. 12–13.

      4. ibid., p. 11; Martin and Ryan, p. 73. Martin and Ryan have gathered evidence to show a continuation of the slave trade between the tenth and the eighteenth centuries. While this is indisputable, there is little evidence to show that the scale of the trade was comparable to the two major periods of the slave trade, the seventh to ninth centuries, and the eighteenth to nineteenth centuries. Austen’s attempt to quantify the slave trade is based on inadequate data, and has little virtue other than its provision of a total figure for the East African slave trade of dubious authenticity with which to compare the West African slave trade. See Chapter 2, below, for a fuller discussion of Austen’s figures.

      5. Strandes, pp. 89–94; Sheriff (1975a), pp. 17–18.

      6. Freeman-Grenville (ed.) (1962a), p. 19.

      7. ibid., p. 2.

      8. Mathew, p. 96; Chau Ju Kua, p. 130; Wheatley, p. 97; Strandes, p. 90; Garlake, p. 89.

      9. Freeman-Grenville (ed.) (1962a), pp. 133–4.

      10. Garlake, p. 2; Sheriff (1975a), pp. 15, 19; Strandes, pp. 88–91.

      11. Panikkar, p. 13; Strandes, pp. 56–8.

      12. Datoo and Sheriff, p. 102; Strandes, pp. 97–8.

      13. Strandes, pp. 71–3, 119–26, 39, 45, 106–10.

      14. ibid., pp. 114–30; Boxer and Azevedo, p. 28.

      15. Strandes, pp. 312, 319.

      16. ibid., pp. 228–30; Boxer and Azevedo, pp. 47–8.

      17. Strandes, pp. 232, 237–8, 240; Boxer and Azevedo, pp. 50–1, 57–69.

      18. Miles, pp. 221, 250; Strandes, p. 291; Alpers (1966), p. 156.

      19. Wilkinson (1972), pp. 69, 75–6; Salil, pp. 46, 51, 53, 78, 84; Niebuhr, Vol. 2, p. 113; Halliday, p. 267.

      20. Salil, pp. 65, 69, 89, 92, 100; Bathurst (1967), pp. 137, 205–6.

      21. Salil, p. 93; Bathurst (1967), pp. 205–6.

      22. Salil, pp. 51, 57, 84, 90, 100, 176, 200, 216–18.

      23. Bathurst (1972), pp. 103–6.

      24. Salil, pp. 152, 202, 342; Wilkinson (1972), pp. 77–8; Kelly (1972), p. 109; Bathurst (1972), pp. 101–2; Phillips (1967), p. 66. Said b. Sultan, however, continued to be referred to, incorrectly, as the Imam in British sources well into the nineteenth century. Nicholls, pp. 22, 101. Frederick Cooper seems to reject this whole analysis of social transformation, but presents little evidence to refute it or an alternative interpretation for the overthrow of the Ya’rubi dynasty (unless it is merely one of a series of ‘communal feuds’), and for the secularisation of the ruler’s title. See Cooper (1977), pp. 30–3.

      25. Strandes, pp. 239–40.

      26. Miles, p. 237; Strandes, p. 266; Bathurst (1967), p. 137.

      27. Mukherjee, pp. 110–12, 118; Coupland (1938), pp. 84–6.

      28. Coupland (1938), pp. 95–8; Phillips (1967), pp. 70, 72; Nicholls, p. 105.

      29. Nicholls, p. 98; Maurizi, p. 30; IOR, P/174/16, nos 60–71; P/174/8, nos 58–72; P/419/41, nos 49, 52, 54.

      30. Gavin (1965), p. 19; Nicholls, pp. 97–9.

      31.

Скачать книгу