The Dukes of Fernau, for now.

[Talus I of Dixie]

This chapter ended in a way which gave me the immediate feeling that it stops midway through its intended length? Like, the blog post doesn't actually concludes its own rationale.

 

[Elementary]

The first of their noteworthy dukes, Jakob Kettler, had by this point been scaling up the triangle trade for about twenty years.

Interesting, thanks. It suggests Courland will have a string of noteworthy dukes after Jakob (and the line won’t die out).

Incidentally, what is the correct pronunciation of Jakob? This line from Crispina, a couple of updates ago, made me wonder.

"Banjul. I tell your man Meller he must better say the name of his little port. Or yours, I suppose. Duke Yakobb."

The history of bringing surplus brainpower south is known: the first permanent observatories in the tropics, with their famous discoveries. The first university in Africa. Or, for the non-nerds, the oldest restaurant still operating in the Southern Hemisphere.

Cool! Will we get to see the restaurant (and its presumably yummy food)?

make your readers see this from the other point of view, as well. Maybe tell us about St Helena not from the perspective of the new arrivals from Courland, but from that of one of the twenty young women Peres sold the Courlanders to take there

This is an interesting suggestion and I’d like to read this, too.

 

[traminer]

This chapter ended in a way which gave me the immediate feeling that it stops midway through its intended length? Like, the blog post doesn't actually concludes its own rationale.

Teeheeheee. You're not quite wrong. I could chalk it up to tiredness, or that my Economic Historian is as pointless as 90% of bloggers. But instead, I've just added a deliberately unsatisfying final line to tie the post up geometrically, if not rationally.

One day, I'll try to post an Economic Historian Blog with the blogger quite drunk. Or not.

It suggests Courland will have a string of noteworthy dukes after Jakob (and the line won’t die out).

Different dukes can be noteworthy for different reasons. Jakob was exceptional, clearly. I've set up Martin to be worthy, if different. I have neither set the time for, nor named the timeline's final duke, nor figured out whether another duke comes between Martin and him. But one of those fragments I see clearly has him in it.

Cool! Will we get to see the restaurant (and its presumably yummy food)?

I was going to give it away right in this reply, but I will instead take the less cowardly route of taking your request and setting a scene in this restaurant, down the line.

Incidentally, what is the correct pronunciation of Jakob?

German - vaguely, YAH-kob, long "a", "o" somewhere between a long and short "o", depending on who is saying it.
Crispina is making light of Jakob's clumsy pronunciation of Banjul - not that I could say it better than him, but I figure there's room for him to not sound like a local. She could be over enunciating his name in playfulness, or deliberately distorting his name in gentle reproach - I'm happy to leave that up to the reader.

- - -

Let's take stock of upcoming events, whether they earn chapters in their own right, or mention in other chapters:

• Martin and Motke seek Tevel ben Elisha in Loango
• Louise Charlotte's garden tour, Fernau edition
• Louise Charlotte's garden tour, Tobago edition
• News from Courland and perhaps Europe (likely a letters chapter)
• A first slave story (the one stuck longest in my mind will not be the first one written)
• Matchmaking
• The expedition inland from the Gambia
• Notes from voyages of ships Jakob sent exploring
• Notes of the current state of the Southern Atlantic
• And per Elementary's request, the oldest restaurant in the southern hemisphere.

The timeline is a completely different place than it was. Let's go find some stories. =)

 

[not livius]

Thanks for your responses!

Pragmatic, trade-first Jakob prioritizes vital trade relationships. Wealthy, somewhat mercenary trader Crispina surely spots that in seconds. But otherwise, her nearest point of comparison would be the occasional European royal cousin privateering down the coast, focusing on other ships more than locals. Jakob is something new, from her perspective, but not all new things end up significant.

But those royal cousins don't bring their pink wives and pink children with them, do they? Jakob, and Jakob's goals, are as you say recognizably within the range of normal, but the longer term effects of this whole process may not be. Probably won't be, considering the hints you've dropped.

I hope you see I don't - but also: I will take it as a promise of future criticism if I miss the mark .=)

I think I was extra-cautious because as I wrote I could see myself saying, "This timeline is good, but if only you did what I'm about to tell you, it would be great," and frankly no one wants to say that. But, challenge accepted!

The first university in Africa.

To be pedantic, the first modern, or first european-style university in Africa -- depending on how you define universities, I think Cairo and maybe even Timbuktu would like a word with you.

One day, I'll try to post an Economic Historian Blog with the blogger quite drunk. Or not.

I feel like your economic historian is one bad twitter argument away from total meltdown, so yes, please.

The timeline is a completely different place than it was. Let's go find some stories. =)

Can't wait!

 

[traminer]

But those royal cousins don't bring their pink wives and pink children with them, do they? Jakob, and Jakob's goals, are as you say recognizably within the range of normal, but the longer term effects of this whole process may not be. Probably won't be, considering the hints you've dropped.

Completely on the mark: I was only saying that the bits Crispina would find most consequential to her own business were normal for her.
You’re absolutely right these other details outside the business dealings were curious. Pink women! There’s a mystery of life solved. Now we know where pink men come from.

To be pedantic, the first modern, or first european-style university in Africa -- depending on how you define universities, I think Cairo and maybe even Timbuktu would like a word with you.

Sankoré will indeed have a word with me. Economic Historian will stick to clickbait hyperbole. Narratively, I’m glad to have had the restaurant draw comments first. I wanted to inject something cool but less historically consequential.

 

[traminer]

Liba's Hips - part one

The sea voyage felt brief after the longer one from the Baltic. Three ships set off southward, spreading wide to have better chances of meeting any ships headed north. Martin, notionally in command of the little expedition, chose the southwest-by-south island-hopping route for himself, stopping at or at least passing by all three Portuguese islands lined up with Fernau: Principe, São Tomé, and Annobón. The Duchess of Courland took the continental coastal route - nearly due South, and the Gotthard aimed straight at the midpoint between São Tomé and Cape Lopes. Beyond Cape Lopes, the coast and second half of their journey shifted to southeast-by-south, and any ship headed to Fernau would be much easier to spot.

By taking the island route, Martin was therefore taking the longest of the three paths to Cape Lopes, giving every excuse to Courland's Ark to sail at speed. Captain Rimat was happy to oblige, with a small exception. At Principe, Martin learned that Motke's skill for language-learning was greater than his own: he was nearly as useful a translator as Njikobiya, probably because the those in charge of the island spoke Portuguese rather than any Portuguese-Bantu creole. They paused only for water, politeness, and to exchange news. If the heir to Courland and Semigallia appearing in the Gulf of Guinea surprised anyone, they didn't linger long enough to discuss it on the outbound journey.

They paused again at São Tomé, barely staying for more than introductions and to deliver correspondence from Principe, Bissau, and even Portugal. Then they continued to Annobón, with a handful of letters from São Tomé. Here, Rimat called for slower sailing, and pulled Martin aside.

"Graf."

"Captain. Why the trimmed sails?"

"Have you ever had Rum, my lord?"

"No, Captain. Why?"

"My lord Graf, there is a line drawn between those with experience and those without. Between those who are counted among men and those who are... not. Between those about whom stories are told and those who merely tell those stories second-hand."

"And is that line drawn at the epiglottis, breached as a first mouthful of rum is swallowed?"

"No, Graf. Rum is what a man aboard a ship would drink after he crosses that line."

"I see. A rite of passage. Is this when I learn why your men call the mountains of Fernau 'Liba's hips' and 'Liba's tits' ?"

"CHRIST no. Gah. Forgive me for swearing. You're not supposed to have heard that."

"If it helps, I don't think anyone else has been as close to your crew as I have, so your secret is safe."

"Danke. No to that silliness, but yes to a rite of passage. And though I am captain of this vessel and have authority over all aboard while at sea, I am not confident your father would be happy to learn his heir had his first taste of rum on my watch. So I am at a crossroads."

"Am I to become a man so soon, Captain? If you saw some symptom that eluded my parents before our departure, you are perhaps some sea-priest rather than a sailor."

"In this, we are both to become men at the same time, Graf... Martin. I believe every man of this crew to have lived the entirety of their lives on the same side of the line of which I speak." Martin could think of no witticism to answer that, so the conversation paused. "Karl! Fetch the barrel of rum."

"Where did you get the rum from, Captain?"

"Ah, the sea forges many friendships, Graf... Martin. And today it reforges some."

"With rum?"

"Graf, you are very nearly crew on this vessel. Don't play the fool with me. Sailors are happy to enjoy a barrel of anything alcoholic, but sailing around the world from places where there is sugarcane to places where there isn't makes rum a little nearer the hearts of sailors than other possible drinks."

"Gah! I'm a fool, Captain. All this line talk - you mean we're about to cross the equator!"

"Always thought der Archengraf was a smart one."

"And your entire crew - none have ever sailed to Saint Helena?"

"Not a one. Two have made Fernau before. Those of us who've made it out of the Baltic before have mostly gone Gambia - Tobago - Flekkerøy."

"How will we know when we've crossed it?"

"Ah, Graf, you have so many learned men and natural philosophers at your disposal. I was hoping you might tell me. As a sailor, I will only know by the taste of the rum."

"Tevel. It would drive him mad to know he was crossing an invisible line without knowing precisely where it was."

"I am happy to confirm the diligent governor sent mapmakers and measurers to find the equator on several documented occasions, equinoxes and solstices. And that is why an island we shall soon hope to spot is perhaps the most useless place on the planet to have had extremely detailed maps made of it."

"And you need a ritual that can make me a man without my father knowing I drank rum?"
Rimat nodded and shrugged.
"This is Courland's Ark. I'd say baptism feels somehow appropriate."

"Whatever range of religious belief Courland welcomes, I will not allow this ship to waste good rum on baptism."

"That would surely get back to my father. If Tevel's map has a good, safe bay at which you might anchor, I propose we swim across the equator."

And so it was that Courland's Ark carefully slowed and stopped at the northernmost edge of a small bay near the northeastern corner of Ilhéu das Rolas, just over a mile south of São Tomé. Sailors and passengers alike dove into the ocean. Those less able to swim clung to empty barrels towed by those who could. The water was warmer than anyone who'd swam in the Baltic would have imagined. But strangeness can be what makes milestones memorable. That, and the taste of rum after.

On Courland's Ark, Martin had never truly been counted a child. But now, on its decks at least, he was counted a man.

- - -

At Cape Lopes, the three ships converged. They met no ships going north, and everyone was mesmerized by dolphins in the water and glimpses of huge grey beasts on the shore the rest of the way. For a while, it was easy to imagine this land and water might be a place where man didn't truly hold dominion over the beasts. After that while, there was Loango.

- - -

Again, Tevel's curation of excellent maps guided them to where they needed to be. They spotted Punta Negra and its nearer, sister point, and turned in to the coast before passing either. And before their anchors had hit the sand, white, pink, beige, brown and black people were walking down to the beach to greet them. Rowing to shore felt light and effortless.

A woman with wild, sun-bleached hair escaping her braids promptly swallowed Motke up into a huge embrace.

"Motke! Tevel will be overjoyed to see you! What's brought you all the way to Loango?"

"The quickest telling: Courland was invaded, Duke Jakob and Martin, here, brought all who preferred being in Courland's colonies to being under Sweden's boot, here."

"Martin? This... My lord! Welcome to Loango! You have the look of a man now."

"I assure you that's a quite recent thing, aided by our ship's Captain. Captain Raphael Rimat, may I introduce to you Liba, once of Polangen, wife of Tevel ben Elisha?"

Martin turned to fully face Captain Rimat, the better to enjoy a flicker of private eye contact. In that moment, the hand he'd extended to introduce Liba moved subtly up and down. None saw anything intentional in the gesture save Rimat, at whose blushing face Martin smirked.

"Frau Liba. I have heard stories of your hospitality in Fernau from other captains. It will be a pleasure to welcome you and your husband aboard our ship to bring you home."

Liba's hospitality on this occasion brought all those not left to mind the ships on a walk to the nearby gorge, to visit the small trio of places of worship they'd helped the locals to build there. They enjoyed a good evening meal around a fire, trading stories and news.

Amidst this community of mostly Jews, in colours from white to black, Martin reflected on Njikobiya's admonition, weeks earlier, that skin is not home. Njikobiya seemed very nearly at home here. So did Motke, speaking with a striking woman whose face inherited dark skin from two grandmothers and green eyes from two grandfathers.

For Martin, Courland's Ark was sometimes home. Books were home. Learning was home. Being where there were books and learning and swims across the known location of the equator and people bringing so much legacy together... those were what gave him a sense of home.
He slept that night in the same modest home that hosted Tevel ben Elisha and his wife, but his dreams were of the feeling of watching the summer sun setting into the Baltic.

 

[traminer]

Liba's Hips - part two

"My Duchess, may I present the Lower Duchess Garden of Fernau."

"Thank you, Governor." Louise Charlotte had, of course, familiarized herself with the garden while waiting a fortnight for Tevel's return. In fact, she was waiting for him there. Accordingly, they both laughed. "It is so good to see you again. There is so little to make this place familiar to us, but your face does."

"And yours, my lady. A face says more than any letter might. I take if you've already had a thorough introduction to this place?"

"This garden and its experiments please me. Another duchess or princess might want more flowers and sculpted trees. But I see crops. I see ways to feed people. I see crops. I see ways to fund Courland's restoration. I see notes and measurements taken, I see successes and failures proven and moved on from. It is fitting you placed the garden adjacent the library and school. All together, this is a place of learning."

"And learning with purpose, just as you would have it. We bring people from the mainland to teach us their languages , their plants, medicine and farming. We teach them our languages, our ways of doing similar things. This is the heart of Courland's effort to catch up to Portugal's head start building relationships with the peoples of the continental coast."

"Which brings me to Loango. You found your Jewish community, though not where you sought them. Are you gardening there, too?"

"Figuratively, yes. Loango is the little sister to Kongo, and this Gulf of the Jews collected emigrants from São Tomé, and even crypto-Jews from further afield. They have lost much of their European inheritance - by this I refer to knowledge and trades, not their appearance. Yes, each new generation born here is less pale than the one before. But what they do and what they know is also less distinctive over time."

"And then, they are found by Tevel ben Elisha."

"Oh, you give me too much personal credit. But to indulge you, I'l tell it that way. Heroic Tevel ben Elisha - do get a nice strong-looking actor to play the part in a play - arrives with boatloads of Jewish and European heritage, offering these sad and fading communities a lifeline. If Europeans could not connect as well to the peoples of the continent, they certainly were able to connect to these Jews of varying descent, who suddenly became vital to trade, diplomacy, education, and... I don't know. All thanks to the fortunate arrival of a new infusion of European-ness and Jewish-ness brought by heroic... strong... handsome... Tevel."

"Please stop." The Duchess laughed in her garden. "You clearly excel at everything except sounding self-congratulatory. Now, without the lovely hyperbole of what you've just said, exactly how many people have you effectively recruited to the first ranks of our allies?"

"The Jews of the coast probably number between three and eight thousand."

"That number seems smaller than I was expecting."

"Ah. These Jews do not live as separately as you might expect from others in coastal Loango. They are integrated within a broader local community and economy. With these neighbours, it might be twelve thousand, or forty thousand. It really depends on how far their influence extends. But the simplest fact is, their influence extends rather further with us here, and them as our obvious, natural intermediaries."

"How many are on Fernau?"

"Seventy. Vaguely, half of them learn from us, half of them teach us. Jakob worries about Fernau being able to maintain the surpluses of food with which we feed the fleet. Loango alone will be able to meet half our needs within months. Transplanting food crops and farmers from Loango could help Fernau produce its own surplus within less than a year. Especially if you don't mind relying on eating what they eat here."

"I'm sure we'll be pickier eaters than your friends in Loango. But not for long. And for Jakob and I personally, we shall soon face a diet of sugarcane and corn and pigs and fruit."

"You say that as though that's a particularly distinctive diet, but we have all those things here. Corn fares well here, but better higher up the mountain. The Portuguese brought it from the Americas long ago. Our notes and measurement, as you say, told us to move it higher. That would be nearer the Upper Duchess Garden, towards Rohia."

"I did not know I had another garden here."

"It has fruits and flowers. You wouldn't love it as much as this one, my lady."

The Duchess snorted back a laugh at that. "It's the Tobago garden I'll see next, Tevel. Surely some news from Courland will await us by the time we get there. And unless that news precludes it, we will sail for Europe and diplomacy after that. I honestly can't remember whether we're heading to Gambia before, between, or after the other stops. Then we'll return here, and you can show me the apparently pretty garden up the mountain."

- - -

"Martin, my son, we will be separated for a longer time and a greater distance than we ever have been before. You will have to mind your siblings, and you will have to take decisions. You've been eager for responsibility since you knew what responsibility was. For the next few months at least, you have responsibility for Fernau. You will have Tevel to guide you, and everyone here to help you."

Martin's farewells were separate from those of his siblings. His siblings had cried. Martin's face very nearly looked as though he had just heard the most ordinary and obvious statement ever. His mother, his father, Tevel and Captain Rimat - who would only be sailing Courland's Ark as far as the Swedish trading posts on the Guinea coast - had drawn him aside for a more private goodbye.

"Vati, it feels improper to demote Tevel just to test me."

"I wouldn't dream of demoting such a resourceful governor, Martin."

"Then you will need to promote me to keep the role of governor no less than it is now."

"Ah. My son reminds me of formality so far from where those formalities originated. Very well - I knowCaptain Rimat here already calls you Graf. Tevel, would your pride be adequately preserved to serve as governor under a count?"

"Jakob, he's already the most humble man in your service."

"My lady, my lord. It is a matter of pragmatism, not pride. The heir of the Prince of Pilten and Duke of Courland and Semigallia should have a title. Martin will be dealing with Fons and Mansas and Kings. Make it easier for him to impress them."

"There, my dear, the burden of humility upon dear Tevel is not made unreasonably heavier. My son, I name you Count of Fernau in front of your mother and these witnesses. I would return with a suitable ring for you from Europe, but between yourself and Tevel, I'm sure you'll have one made here before then."

The sentence was barely complete when Captain Rimat's knee hit the ground. He didn't need to wait for a ring. He gathered Martin's hand with his own and kissed it, then spoke only a single word, smiling:

"Graf."

- - -

The fleet accompanying the Duke and Duchess was a war fleet, for pragmatic and optimistic reasons. First, if Courland had been bullied by land by Sweden in the Baltic, it would bully Sweden by sea on the Guinea coast. The irony of being able to clobber Sweden here as a consequence of having been effortlessly invaded by Sweden at home was lost on no one. Revenge was sweet and easy: Sweden's nascent forts were destroyed or taken over. Second, if luck were to have it that combat would be worthwhile upon a return to Europe, Jakob meant to be capable of it, whether in self-defence or in an attempt to resupply Libau, directly or indirectly via Prussia or another friend.

Other than baby Ferdinand, Louise Elisabeth was the only one of their children returning to Europe. Though it pained him to attend to such a task so early, Jakob knew one part of diplomacy that might prove vital for the Duchy was firming up alliances by promising his children in marriage to friendly, useful houses. His true focus on this front was finding a match for Martin, Count of Fernau. In Martin's absence, his eldest daughter would serve as a visual reminder of his eldest son's adolescence.

- - -

Among his first acts as Count, Martin picked up his mother's agricultural dialogue with Tevel, and commissioned a higher-altitude farm on Fernau. It would try to maximize the island's corn output, where the slopes of Fernau's three mountains met. Then he and Liba's husband set about mobilizing men to prove or optimize the fertility between 'Liba's hips'.

 

[traminer]

I'm threadmarking this post, but not numbering it. This is a bit more like my "next day thoughts" posts, but this time we're focusing on the lay of the land.

Here's a Dutch map from shortly before this timeline began (which is rather longer ago now then when this timeline came to Africa):

So, what do we have here? Let's start top-left and go clockwise.
Many of the most celebrated geographers of the age assumed one or more of the rivers in westernmost Africa was actually a great river extending across the desert all the way to the Nile. Jakob's just sent some men to find the truth of that, Denmark killed some adventurers earlier in this timeline doing the same. Those rivers (Senegal, Gambia, Casamance etc) are definitely not one big delta as shown here. Across the top, you get the mythical lake from which all these east-west rivers spring; top-right, the rivers connect to the Nile in geographers' dreams.

Down the right side, Benin is noted (it's a known kingdom, it's sometimes coloured differently from "Guinea" to its west, which is a region label and not a kingdom one). The islands bottom-right are all too large. Fernau is cut off, but the label "Fernando Poo" is there, then Principe and São Tomé. Annobón is absent, but would be next down the diagonal line. Where the number 5 is on the map frame, if the map continued right to the edge of the image instead, that edge nearest the 5 would be pretty much where you'd find the Loango coast just north of today's Pointe-Noire, Congo (Brazzaville).

And then, bottom right, you get Saint Thomas island. Very impressive and detailed cartography for an island that DOES NOT EXIST. (I mentioned it, back when. Don't look for it, it doesn't really matter.)

Slave trade central for most Europeans (excepting the Portuguese, who used the Angola coast just as much) is centred between those capes in the middle. Less so Palmas in the west, more between 3 Puntas and Corso. The little icons for towns or forts hint at how many neighbours with varyingly negative or neutral or positive relations are known to be there. Good fences make good neighbours. Bad neighbours become slaves.

The equator is either a smidgen too far north, or else São Tomé is a little too far south. Martin's swim was just south of it, off Ilheu das Rolas, not pictured.

 

[traminer]

Where Our Spirits Return to

We march down 200 men from Dunkwa. The Dunkwahene sent us under Komi, his nephew. We know he tests Komi. Komi is one of his better nephews. We are sent with three purposes. Komi is first to watch that no one who is not a friend to the Dunkwahene comes to our side of the Offin or Pra rivers. We are to strike fear in the hearts of men who do. There has already been too much trouble with the people to our north. Komi is second to impress the new white boat people at the place they call Carolusborg. Komi has practiced words to say in their language. We do not know how these words came to Dunkwa. Komi is third to give respect and tribute to the Denkyirahene at Jukwaa.

Then Komi and we his men march home with answers and gifts and stories. And the Dunkwahene will know how to guide us, again and for all time. This is the land we claim. This is the land we work. This is the land our spirits return to. This is where our wise men hear the spirits best.

We find hunters west of the Pra as we walk south, who talk like men from far. They are not Fante, they are not Denkyira or people who pay tribute to Denkyira. We set upon them with bows and spears. Komi has a musket, and fires one shot to be scary. We kill three men, capture twelve, send ten back across the Pra to carry our warnings. I am struck in the leg in the fighting. My knee can not draw more than half its normal strength. I walk slowly alone or put my arm around my cousin Ebo's shoulders when the pain is worse. I need only rest to heal. But we do not have enough rest time.

We continue, nearer the Pra. We see some lone hunters at times and do not trouble them. The dry season is ending soon, the river will give enough for all to hunt. On the morning of the third day we cross the Pra at a small village. They have a small market. We give very small measures of gold for fresh goat and bushmeat. We give salt too. They are grateful and say they will think well of Dunkwa.

They lie, or else they have loyalties that exceed their gratitude. When we wake the next morning, a small group of men yells and throws rocks at us from a distance. These should be tributaries of the Denkyirahene too, but that does not make us friendly. We have the numbers. We give chase, all but me and Ebo and ten others guarding our captives. Two more try to scout a little around us.

We stay quiet. I think of Ameyo back home, with her warm gaze and strong, smooth back. I could think of Ameyo's back in any place and feel the spirits encouraging me. This woman's strength will bring us a strong child and a good child.

I am roused from dreaming by sounds of many men. I did not know I had fallen asleep. There may be fever.

Those who were our captives are gone. Our200 men are now 150 captives of these sly warriors. I am still too tired. I heard them speak and make out most of the words. They must be Fante. I am tied to Ebo - an irony - and our march continues. We go the same way we were going anyway. I feel I wake walking, and fall asleep walking. Awake, I apologize to Ebo for the burden. He tells me who is dead and who has been taken elsewhere. Komi is neither. He is first in our line, tied to someone hurt worse than me.

There is apparently no hurry. We camp with an hour's walk of this Carolusborg place, where there is more shade and easier access to fresh water. I sleep.

In the morning, the fever is gone. My knee still can draw less than half its strength. I am still tired. I eat the food I am given. Ebo tells me he thinks I am back, too late. I only nod.

Our captors walk us to Carolusborg. The fort looks new, with walls of strong tree trunks. But not strong enough: a section has been blown down by a powerful force. Our captors seem confused and unsure of what to do.

We hear the story that the white boat men are just like us: they have different tribes. A first white boat tribe used to trade here. A second tribe took their place and made this fort. A third tribe came - was this yesterday? - and knocked down the fort wall. The second tribe is now dead or war captives, like us. We hear the second tribe is the one we had come to meet.

Our captors meant to sell us to the people of the gold cross flag. Now the people of the black spider crab bought us instead - all but Komi, who will be taken to Jukwaa as a gift or example to the Denkyirahene. We are loaded onto a big boat - all together. We wonder how we will all fit. It becomes clear we will fit very tightly.

We are chained in pairs to the wall of the boat, all in a room below where the white people work. White men come down the stairs to feed us sometimes. Some of us have heard white people language before. We are surprised to hear a white person say words in Fante. He sounds like his mouth is too small to sound right. He seems to expect our surprise. He says he speaks Fante badly. He says badly is good enough, because he will never, ever answer anything we ask him. He says we will eat here, sleep here, shit here for weeks. Sometimes some of us will go up to dance and see the sun.

Most of us think it is a bad joke. When the first of us has to shit, we know it is not. This is the smell we will all live with for weeks. This and every shit that comes after it.

To dance for the white people is good and horrible. It is good because the smell is less bad. It is good because we can move. They say it is healthy. When Ebo and I are called to dance, my knee is better, but not better enough. I fall often. Ebo tries to explain. Ebo is stabbed for that.

The boat and what it does with wind does not make sense. The wind is not blowing straight away from home, but the boat goes away still. I only know the wind when it is our turn to dance above. The rest of the time, it is my turn to hold Ebo up as he did me on the march. He is feverish.

Soon the mix of a stab wound and room full of shit and sweat is too much. Fever worsens. Ebo can no longer dance. He is thrown over the side of the boat. I bite back a scream. I return below to tell others that Ebo’s body was intact - his spirit will return to the lands by the Offin river. His voice will find our people again.

Many others follow Ebo. The people of the black spider crab learn, though. A body must be intact for the spirit to return home. When Kwamena and Yao's brother die, their limbs are cut off and thrown into the sea separately.

My knee can not draw all its strength yet. This is not a place to gain strength. But I have more than before. When I am next called, I dance believing I dance with Yao's brother's spirit, and Kwamena's. We dance a farewell to Ebo on his homeward journey. We dance rage. We dance the smell of shit and sweat and blood but try to dance the smell of freshly cooked millet and of sunlight on Ameyo's beautiful back and the baby she will give me.

But mostly rage. When I show the black spider crab people my knee is stronger by lunging at one of them, it is rage. When I scream victoriously at the blood I draw, it is rage.

When they bind me to the wood above and pull my arms and legs off with me still awake, it is still rage.

When my screaming stops, it is no longer rage. My body is not intact. My spirit will not return home. I will haunt this hopeless water instead.

My last living thoughts as the last blood leaves me are still of Ameyo's back.

Then in death, rage, again.

 

[Quanten]

That was a good chapter
Like most things at that time. Wealth is greased with blood.

 

[Elementary]

Jesus, that was dark.

And depressing.

And effective.

 

[traminer]

For once, what are normally "next-day thoughts" will be "later the same day thoughts." In this case, because I want tomorrow's thoughts to have left this episode behind.

I thank Quanten and Elementary for their reactions above - after something so hard to write, reactions are even more valuable.

It was hard for two reasons. Yes, it was dark. I've been reading articles and listening to slavery-related podcasts on and off for months, focusing more intensely this week on the harder-to-find stories of the capture of people in Africa who become slaves across the Atlantic. This could have been rather darker still. As I got in the head of this narrator, though, I didn't find he wanted to share every detail of any part of the story. Let's assume he left out as much of his ship experience as he left out of his telling about his Fante-speaking captors. This story bargained with me about how much rawness its telling wanted. Our nameless narrator could have told more of his mental breakdown and despair. But his storytelling was not like that. I will have such a telling of another story, later on. The human in me already hates it. The writer in me relishes telling it.

It was also hard for research. So much is written about slavery, fiction and non-fiction, at destination. The very start of a slave journey is the hardest to find information about, that going from being a free person in some context in or near your homeland, to being a captive. From there to being sold, to being shipped, to living out you life as a plantation owner's owned labourer, for life... every next step seems to have more stories told.
On top of that, though I've been collecting details of African kingdoms and peoples for months, every detail that I chose to put into this story raised questions that demanded two or five more details be found.

I got a couple details wrong in my earlier European storytelling. Not ones core to my narrative, but any one wrong detail can be the one that throws one reader off the story forever, so not being core to the narrative is absolutely no saving grace. Now I'll be getting entirely new details slightly wrong, and with slightly lower odds of having readers call me on them. I'll repeat the earlier plea: please do tell me I'm wrong about any detail that you find jarring.

The character names are all weekday names of the Twi/Fante tradition (Kofi Annan was named "Kofi" because that's a Friday name, and he was born on a Friday). The belief that a body must be intact for the spirit to return home was one I heard on a podcast episode on slavery, as was the depressing creativity of the ship crew to dismember the dead to better keep slaves alive who thought to "escape" home via suicide.

I apologize to my nameless narrator for putting him through this. In his story, Courlanders were nearly faceless boogeymen. When we return to Courland's story, this narrator's impact will sadly be one teardrop in the ocean. These viewpoints will absolutely not reconcile any time soon.

 

[not livius]

I appreciate that you wrote this -- it was tragic and horrible as it should be.

I apologize to my nameless narrator for putting him through this. In his story, Courlanders were nearly faceless boogeymen. When we return to Courland's story, this narrator's impact will sadly be one teardrop in the ocean. These viewpoints will absolutely not reconcile any time soon.

I particularly liked this element of the chapter. It's easy for us to see the Courlanders as special and different, because within their own context they are. But outside of that context they are just as bad as everyone else involved in the slave trade, and it is good to be reminded of that. Particularly in the more horrific details, like mutilating the dead to discourage suicide.

 

[Talus I of Dixie]

I had a rough end for the week (here where i live there were storm flood warnings for Friday and Saturday), so i'm just having the time to reply now, but beforehand i want to say that this chapter caught me off-guard! Not only for the actual happenings, but also because i've been recently (= last two months) studying Ghanaian history, specifically the Ashanti Empire (not yet existant as of TTL) and its relations with the (mentioned in the chapter!) Fante in the coast, when i read Dunkwa i got al "wait, that Dunkwa?", and then the -hene suffix afterwards gave it all.

As someone which major part of the history study curriculum is slavery and slave-trafficking (because well, nation with most transatlantic slaves, anyone?), it's fairly common for the thought of "Woah, this is horrible!" to come around when studying said system, but i think that the horrible-ness of the systemic view ("Slaves were transported that way, abused in this other way, Many died like X, etc.") is kinda cruel in its own way, because it de-humanizes the entire process, we see what happens and address it as horrible, but in an unempathic way.

The narrator of this chapter is not exactly of the kind to drag wallowing in his own misery — I like that, sometimes "oh my god how horrible this is" gets too on-the-nose and unnatural, after all, human tendency is to avoid suffering — and i think this makes a strength into an introductionary chapter to the enslaved-POV of the slave trade, it's kinda crazy (but, for me at least, expected) how matter-of-fact the dealing is to him until the ship policy of no-humanitarian-sense-allowed presents itself. And by the end you pretty much feels that you'd feel like him, in his position, that's good writing.

Also, an (i guess unintended?) available interpretation of this is how de-humanizing the slave trade is on both ends: The narrator is completely oblivious (and doesn't care) to how horrible it is the experience of being transatlantically slave-traded until he experiences it himself, and eventually just decides to commit suicide-by-defiance. At the same time, the same is true for the courlanders, which we are used to see in a positive light (after all, they're most of our PoVs) but in an enslaved's view, they're basically faceless monsters from the moment they say the "bad joke" — It's also an exercise at perspective, slavery seems (because it is) an unextraordinary thing, considering the non-chalant reaction of the narrator to having his party being captured, until the actual "hey our prized trade stock, i know you're alive and all, but act like ship cargo, please! We don't care, and we'll punish you if you do." starts.

tl;dr: I see multiple ways to understand how the Transatlantic Slave Trade particularly sucked, considering even Slave Trade — and Slavery's own — standards.

And now, one obligatory very very specific nitpick:

We march down 200 men from Dunkwa. The Dunkwahene sent us under Komi, his nephew. We know he tests Komi. Komi is one of his better nephews. We are sent with three purposes. Komi is first to watch that no one who is not a friend to the Dunkwahene comes to our side of the Offin or Pra rivers. We are to strike fear in the hearts of men who do. There has already been too much trouble with the Kumaseman north of us. Komi is second to impress the new white boat people at the place they call Carolusborg. Komi has practiced words to say in their language. We do not know how these words came to Dunkwa. Komi is third to give respect and tribute to the Denkyirahene at Jukwaa.

I'm assuming Kumaseman here is referring to what IOTL became the Ashanti, from Kumasi? Because if so, in that case, there are a few problems with the terminology: It's very likely that Kumasi/Kumase isn't politically relevant yet (it's rise is tied to its position as the meeting place of the early Ashanti confederacy), and thus "Kumaseman" would instead be "Oyokoman" (the land ruled by the Oyokohene, Oyoko being the same clan that later would found the Ashanti Empire), but beyond that, the context is hard to get behind here: You see, in Akan, "man" means roughly "nation/country/tribe", that's why the Ashanti Empire was called Asanteman (lit. "Ashanti Nation") natively, maybe that's over-awareness bias, but i don't think the phrase "There has already been too much trouble with the Kumaseman north of us" is talking geographically at all (well, at least literarily it would be kinda jarring for it to be, since the narrator's thought process are entirely explained through a person-people view throughout the chapter), and in these circumstances, even correcting it to Oyokoman would sound kinda wrong, and it'd be rather something like "Oyokonom" (the plural of Oyoko, in the same way you could call the subjects of the Robinson royal family as "the Robinsons") or "Oyokonnipa" (lit. "Oyoko-people"). Looking back at this thought-process, this might be one of the pettiest nitpicks ever, but i'm justifying it with the fact that you've specifically requested it!

 

[traminer]

I appreciate that you wrote this -- it was tragic and horrible as it should be.

Thank you very much.

The next two bits I’ll take out of order on purpose:

Particularly in the more horrific details, like mutilating the dead to discourage suicide.

The podcast from which I heard that point addressed it very well. It’s evil, it’s abhorrent. But on a guilty, horrible level, one has to so very grudgingly respect the brutal creativity. I may have taken events that happened decades or a century later to place them in this episode, but they felt they could fit in any decade, so I did not worry much on it.

It's easy for us to see the Courlanders as special and different, because within their own context they are.

They have to be special and different, to survive enough to be worth telling a story about. But like any boogeyman, there are perspectives from which they are interchangeable with any other boogeyman.

The plot point from Courland's perspective is that the Fernau fleet has turned the lemons of too many idle ships in one place into the lemonade of wiping clean Sweden's presence on the Guinea coast. Which generates its own lemons: surely Courland doesn't want to tie up its fleet defending and supplying the trading posts it has taken from Sweden? We shall see. OTL, Denmark would take some of these forts over in a few years. TTL... we shall see.

by the end you pretty much feels that you'd feel like him, in his position, that's good writing.

I am glad to read those words. For myself (and my girlfriend, to whom I read this chapter out loud), I felt I lost my grasp on the narrator's tone somewhat. To some extent, we might charitably credit that to an exhausted man moving from factual event-based telling to aimless, thoughts-elsewhere emotional rambling. Had I kept his sentences shorter even toward the end, I'd have felt a touch better, purely as a writer.

Because if so, in that case, there are a few problems with the terminology: It's very likely that Kumasi/Kumase isn't politically relevant yet

Love the nitpick - and I'm not yet sure what the right edit is, so I'll have to question you back a bit, @Talus I of Dixie - my general grasp is that Kumasi, though young, was already growing here, and was subordinate to the Denkyira at this point. Wikipedia gave me a list of rulers of Ashanti and its precursors, of which the first people with the title Kumasehene were contemporary here - Ashantehene/Asantehene is one or two generations away. I entirely made up Dunkwa having a Dunwkahene at this point (fun fact, there is a Dunkwahene even today), assuming it was correct to have -henes for a few smaller areas tributary to Denkyira here (and later OTL, Ashanti).

I used Kumaseman with much less confidence than Kumasehene. Should Nana Oti Akenten have been titled Oyokohene at this point instead? It feels to me like this is pretty much exactly the decade in which Kumasi and therefore Kumasihene would be picking up steam as titles. I expect you're deeper in this knowledge than I am - what would you recommend?

Should this:

"There has already been too much trouble with the Kumaseman north of us"

become "There has already been too much trouble toward Kumasi." instead, to keep things geographic?

And while I await that feedback, the current, always-rotating to-do list. This is a rare case where I can draw a line between things that need addressing sooner and things that must wait.

Sooner:

• Tobago, for three reasons (that's mostly a note to myself - sorry!)
• What happens with the Swedish forts?

After:

• The great river expedition
• The Kettler European diplomacy tour, complete with updates on all that's happened in Europe since we left there.
  • and maybe some matchmaking
• Martin plots his course

 

[Tirion]

Casual cruelty and karma seems to be omnipresent here. Sometimes it's crossing over to ranked competitive cruelty.
What happened to the captured Swedish in those forts?

 

[traminer]

Casual cruelty and karma seems to be omnipresent here. Sometimes it's crossing over to ranked competitive cruelty.
What happened to the captured Swedish in those forts?

I had fleetingly thought to shackle them up in the hull of a Swedish-built slave ship and have a Courland crew sail them home to ransom them, writing you all another episode from inside the hull of a ship and revealing at the end that the shackled people are Swedish (or more likely from across Protestant Europe and working for the Swedish) and the port they were arriving at was Flekkerøy. It felt like bad fantasy with a seed of honesty, and I have a little work to do before answering in the story. My best guess is that most if not all non-Swedes would take up service with other Europeans at their forts (even Sweden’s point man, Hendrik Carloff, was a disgruntled former VOC man). I do think the Swedes would be shipped home - Courland does have extra shipping capacity just now anyway. But I have to validate that a bit.

We still have not seen how Courlanders and Semigallians are being treated at home, and so the fleet would probably be as kind as they’d hope their cousins to be treated by Sweden in Courland.

While the terms “war captive” and “slave” seem to have so much equivalency within Africa at this time, I don’t think the same is true in Europe. As I soak up more reading, I’ll become readier to have bolder outcomes.

 

[Talus I of Dixie]

Love the nitpick - and I'm not yet sure what the right edit is, so I'll have to question you back a bit, @Talus I of Dixie - my general grasp is that Kumasi, though young, was already growing here, and was subordinate to the Denkyira at this point. Wikipedia gave me a list of rulers of Ashanti and its precursors, of which the first people with the title Kumasehene were contemporary here - Ashantehene/Asantehene is one or two generations away. I entirely made up Dunkwa having a Dunwkahene at this point (fun fact, there is a Dunkwahene even today), assuming it was correct to have -henes for a few smaller areas tributary to Denkyira here (and later OTL, Ashanti).

So, that's the thing, pre-Ashanti Ashanti (lol) history is complicated due to expected sourcing issues, because we know that before Asante there was a short interval where the state was Kumase, and before Kumase it was Kwaaman. The problem is, when Kumasi was founded and became politically relevant is totally up to debate – We know that by the late 17th Century (aka Osei Tutu I) it was relevant and the centre of Kumaseman, but tradition conflicts on whether it was established by Tutu itself, Oti Akenten or Obiri Yeboa (if you don't know, the "Nana" in every name is a title, it's basically "Lord"), by what i've read, it's most likely that traditional mentions of Kumasi regarding Akenten's reign are actually referring to Kwaaman (well, it's basically the same place), and Tutu's tradition of founding Kumasi seems to recall earlier ones, so the most likely conclusion is that Kumasi as the political centre rose with Yeboa, and it fits with his recorded political activities. And yes, it is correct for subsidiary areas to have -henes (not only a few smaller ones! Denkyira most likely rules over a separate omanhene for each town and sometimes a town has paramount status within a tribe and rules all of it – due to that kingdoms like Akyem are around by Ashanti's time).

I used Kumaseman with much less confidence than Kumasehene. Should Nana Oti Akenten have been titled Oyokohene at this point instead? It feels to me like this is pretty much exactly the decade in which Kumasi and therefore Kumasihene would be picking up steam as titles. I expect you're deeper in this knowledge than I am - what would you recommend?

I might have missed the call a bit on Oyokohene — The title does exist, and referred to the senior non-Asantehene ruler of the Oyoko clan, and was the second most important lineage in Asante. But re-checking things, it doesn't seem to have been used as reference to the pre-Asante paramount rulers, even though they were, technically, the holders of the Oyokohene (King of the Oyoko tribe) title in spirit, since they were leaders and members of the tribe, although the title might be used by foreigners anyway due to amalgamation. The  express correct title would be Kwaamanhene (referring to Kwaaman, which is basically Kumasi Prologue Version), although Oyokohene would not be improper (as of, if you say it people will know what you're talking about, almost like if you say "King of the Franks" to refer to the King of France in more recent centuries you might get some eyebrows, but people will be understanding what you say). Kumasehene (and that would be the proper way to write, Kumase is Kumasi in Twi) will (well technically it can be butterflied but it's literally a "you can but why should you?") pick up as title in the next decades as Kumasi replaces Kwaaman.

become "There has already been too much trouble toward Kumasi." instead, to keep things geographic?

I think it would be proper, although Kwaaman in place of Kumasi, you might just go all the way back and say "too much trouble towards Oyokoman" since now the text structure is supporting a geographic reference. What you think fits best, honestly.

 

[traminer]

I think it would be proper, although Kwaaman in place of Kumasi, you might just go all the way back and say "too much trouble towards Oyokoman" since now the text structure is supporting a geographic reference. What you think fits best, honestly.

In the end, I kept it simplest. The name-dropping isn't important to this (already peripheral) story. So the edit is:

There has already been too much trouble with the people to our north.

I thought to say "the upstarts to our North"... but again, peripheral. The language geek in me is acutely distracted by the fact I can't fairly call Jakob Kurhene, as he is a Baltic German and not a Kur, people-wise. Kurlandhene has its own compelling awkwardness. Maybe I'll save that for a bit of future diplomacy.

One thing I rather like that I stumbled upon: in the last decade or two, one person who had been a hoped-for successor to the title of Dunkwahene removed himself from the running by opting to pursue a career in politics. So a modern -hene is a purely apolitical role - he is to care for his people, especially as an advocate.

 

[Talus I of Dixie]

The language geek in me is acutely distracted by the fact I can't fairly call Jakob Kurhene, as he is a Baltic German and not a Kur

But one must ask if the Fante, or in fact any Akan speakers interacting with Courland, know the difference between a Baltic German from Courland and a native Courlander, specially considering that the main demographic of interaction are mariners. Usually the -hene is suffixed to cities or tribal groupings, so Kurhene would imply an interpretation of the Duke as the "King of the Kur tribe", while something more awkward like Kurlandhene would be uncharacteristic. I'm amused by the flag association:  Crayfish-people-hene!

One thing I rather like that I stumbled upon: in the last decade or two, one person who had been a hoped-for successor to the title of Dunkwahene removed himself from the running by opting to pursue a career in politics. So a modern -hene is a purely apolitical role - he is to care for his people, especially as an advocate.

Modern kingships (and chiefdoms, the difference between the two are very blurry) in Ghana are interesting, but i wouldn't say apolitical. It's more that in some traditions your position as the leader of a community is seen as not-agreeable with political office in a system outside the community (i.e, country politics), and this is certainly political in its own way. It also gives an insight into the (at least perceived) nature of the omanhene position.