Script and Scholarship Catalogue PDF
Script and Scholarship Catalogue PDF
selected manuscripts
from the exhibition
Timbuktu
2008
Timbuktu
✡
Edited by Lalou Meltzer, Lindsay Hooper and Gerald Klinghardt
‘ The rich king of Timbuktu has
many plates and sceptres of gold…
he keeps a magnificent and well furnished
court… There are numerous doctors, judges,
scholars, priests – and here are
brought manuscript books from Barbary
which are sold at greater profit than
any other merchandise’
7 Acknowledgements
10 Foreword Professor H.C. Jatti Bredekamp, CEO of Iziko Museums of Cape Town
46 The manuscripts, with notes by Shahid Mathee, Dr Shamil Jeppie, Lindsay Hooper,
Dr Gerald Klinghardt and Lalou Meltzer
ISBN 1-874817-35-9
AC KNOWLEDGMENTS
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MESSAGE
FROM T H E PRESIDENT O F SOUTH AFRICA
Thabo Mbeki
The campaign to call attention to the long-established written heritage of Timbuktu is underlined by
this exhibition of manuscripts. When we first saw the manuscripts in Timbuktu in 2001, their
complexity and beauty convinced us of the need to conserve them for posterity. While we had known
of the great tradition of learning of Timbuktu, it was a revelation to experience first-hand such a rich
and distinctive range of writing.
The governments of South Africa and Mali initiated a collaborative programme to conserve the
important collection of manuscripts held at the Ahmed Baba Institute in Timbuktu, and we in South
Africa took the lead in the visionary project to build a new library and archives building for the Ahmed
Baba Institute, in Timbuktu, to be presented to the people of Mali by the people of South Africa. It has
proven a unique partnership and a profound learning experience for all participants, particularly as this
has been adopted as NEPAD’s first cultural project. Since the initiative began some five years ago, steady
progress has been made. This exhibition, therefore, is an expression of the broader programme and
commitment to conserve the manuscript heritage of Timbuktu.
As the exhibition travels through major South African cities, visitors will be given the opportunity
to view a diversity of manuscripts from Timbuktu. Various kinds of writing materials and subjects are
included, revealing a multi-faceted history of reading and writing in Africa. The manuscripts point to
a lively and changing intellectual environment in and around Timbuktu and express an African
intellectual engagement with a larger world of ideas. An exhibition of this nature in South Africa is,
therefore, another reminder of our connection with the rest of the African continent. Only if we are
confident in our identity as Africans, can we claim a common humanity. In strikingly beautiful ways,
both simple and complex, this exhibition of manuscripts from Timbuktu reminds us of our partici-
pation in a collective human endeavour to engage creatively with the world around us.
My thanks and special appreciation goes to the President of Mali and his government for the
generous spirit of co-operation shown throughout the project.
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MESSAGE
FROM T H E PRESIDENT O F T H E REPUBLIC O F MALI
A remarkable intellectual heritage was constituted in Africa over the past millennium, as demonstrated
by the wealth of manuscripts in Arabic and in African languages written in Arabic script.
One of the regions characterised by this flourishing intellectual activity is Timbuktu, situated along
the northernmost bend of the Niger River, in Mali. Starting from the 14th century, Timbuktu became a
renowned centre of Islamic studies. Not only were books brought there, but local scholars also wrote
their own works in order to teach the sciences and literature and to satisfy the demand for scholarly
books in areas such as law, Koranic studies, the traditions of the Prophet, theology, and the Arabic
language.
The erudition of these wise elders fostered the production of an original and varied body of
important works in mathematics, esoteric arts and practices, medicine, poetry and music, as well as
astronomy, and reflections on the resolution of community and ethnic conflicts. The existence of this
heritage, which spread from the north to south, and from the east to west of the continent, clearly
refutes the prejudices and assertions that Africa is a continent of oral traditions only.
The treasure that has been accumulated over time is, however, under threat today. Each year, an
increasing number of documents deteriorate and become illegible. This common heritage of humanity
is thus in danger of being irretrievably lost if firm action is not taken to ensure its future.
Mali is grateful to South Africa for its commitment to preserving the Timbuktu manuscripts.
Through this project to conserve the manuscripts of the Ahmed Baba Institute and reconstruct its
library, South Africans and Malians are together giving meaning to the concept of African solidarity.
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FOREWORD
PROFESSOR H. C. JATTI BREDEKAMP
Iziko Museums of Cape Town is pleased to host the exhibition Timbuktu Script & Scholarship in collabo-
ration with the national Department of Arts and Culture and the Ahmed Baba Institute for Higher
Learning and Islamic Research in Timbuktu, Mali. The exhibition and accompanying catalogue create
an opportunity for South Africans to share in the vision of reclaiming the scholarship and written
legacy of Africa.
The exhibition arises from the South Africa-Mali Project launched by President Mbeki on Africa Day
in 2003. The project aims to ensure the preservation of the Timbuktu manuscripts, by providing training
in professional conservation methods and assistance in the construction of a new library to house the
collection of the Ahmed Baba Institute in Timbuktu. The manuscripts form a most significant but
relatively unknown part of the cultural heritage of Africa. The high point of the manuscript tradition in
Timbuktu was reached during the 15th and 16th centuries, though Timbuktu remained an inspirational
centre of scholarship until the early 20th century. Written in Arabic script on paper, the manuscripts
reveal African scholarship in such areas as theology, law, medicine, astronomy and commerce.
Historical research on the manuscripts has provided insight into the value placed by African people on
scholarship and learning long before the impact of European colonization. It is in the preservation of
this precious record that the National Archives of South Africa is assisting Mali.
Iziko Museums of Cape Town is honoured to make the manuscripts more widely known in South
Africa. The exhibition, Timbuktu Script & Scholarship, presents these manuscripts in an African historical
and cultural context, while at the same time celebrating their universal aesthetic value as shown in the
various styles of calligraphy, tooled leather covers and gilded illuminations that decorate certain
manuscripts.
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From left to right: Dr Yaya Coulibaly; Professor Jatti Bredekamp (CEO, Iziko Museums of Cape Town); Professor Amadou Touré (Minister
of Higher Education and Scientific Research); and Dr Graham Dominy (National Archivist).
After its run in Cape Town, the exhibition, curated by the Social History Collections Department of
Iziko, will travel to Kimberley, Durban, Bloemfontein, Pretoria and Johannesburg. Care has been taken
to balance the conservation needs of the fragile manuscripts with the special opportunity to share them
with diverse South African audiences. In bringing Timbuktu Script & Scholarship to South Africa we hope
that the ancient city of Timbuktu, and its tradition of learning, will become a contemporary inspiration
to explore the history and cultural heritage of the African continent.
In conclusion, I would like to thank the Department of Arts and Culture for their assistance in
bringing the manuscripts to South Africa and, above all, the government of Mali, and the Ministry of
Higher Education and Scientific Research in particular, for releasing their precious heritage and allowing
the manuscripts to travel to South Africa.
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INTRODUCTION:
Tr a v e l l i n g
Timbuktu books
SHAMIL JEPPIE
This catalogue accompanies an exhibition of 40 manuscripts from the Ahmed Baba Institute,
one of several important manuscript libraries in Timbuktu. The aim of the project is to convey
a sense of the written culture of the Timbuktu region. Through this modest selection of
manuscripts, we hope to give an impression of the complexity and richness of the variety of calli-
graphic styles, the composition and production of manuscripts, and the practices of reading.
The manuscripts, i.e. handwritten books, short tracts, and letters, have travelled from West Africa
to the Western Cape and to other centres in South Africa, after a long process of discussion
about where and how to exhibit them. Probably the most important aspect of the debate
between the various specialists involved was which manuscripts to display. They in fact form but
a tiny fraction of a massive corpus of manuscript books and tracts in Timbuktu and it took us a
long time to decide on a manageable number to exhibit. An essay by Mary Minicka in this
catalogue reflects on some of the conservation issues that had to be taken into consideration.
The extremely fragile condition of a great percentage of the Timbuktu manuscripts determined
very largely what we were able to exhibit. Great care and restraint had to be exercised so that in
the process of transporting and exhibiting the manuscripts, they did not deteriorate further. The
conservation question is at the heart of our concerns with Timbuktu for, if we are to understand
more fully the ‘written worlds’ of that region, we will need to have better access to the
manuscripts; and this is dependent on their care and conservation. We need to talk and write
more about the Timbuktu archives, and to show off some of the fascinating collections,
although many of these remain inaccessible to us for purposes of research or for exhibition.
The manuscript books on this exhibition have travelled very far across the length of the
continent, in order for us to take pleasure in the long-established African tradition of Islamic
scholarship and book production. Since the start of the South Africa-Mali Project on the
Timbuktu manuscripts, we have reiterated that we should place the African written record
firmly beside the oral traditions of the continent; the latter have for so long been seen as the
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major means of engaging with the past, while the former
was hardly recognized. These travelling books from
Timbuktu also remind us to look at the manuscript books
as artifacts with aesthetic value and individual histories
that need to be grounded in a more general ’history of the
book’. One need not be an expert in Islamic Africa or
book history to be fascinated by these manuscripts as
Street in Timbuktu.
expressions of both scholarship and the art of the book.
While neither of these remains intact today in West
Africa, they have not completely disappeared. There are still traces of both, often in transformed
and new configurations of learning and book production; the impact of printing and more
recently the advent of the computer having had a major impact on knowledge transmission. The
‘printing revolution’ arrived in West Africa with French colonial rule in the 19th century and,
deep in the interior where Timbuktu is located, only much later. Well into the 20th century local
books and tracts continued to be written in indigenous versions of Arabic calligraphy, which
West African scholars named after the town or locale in which they were practised. With the
importation in the colonial period of industrially-produced paper for administrative use and for
schools, this paper also became accessible for copying older manuscripts, originally written on
handmade paper. The ready availability of paper meant that texts could be reproduced by hand
at a faster rate as their production was not dependent on the vagaries of the paper trade across
the Sahara. During the colonial age of print, therefore, the manuscript found another life on
mass-produced paper made without the care and skill of the craftsman. In the various archives
of Timbuktu we find numerous texts often in beautiful and careful handwriting copied onto
ruled sheets, scraps of paper from an old school-book, the ordinary French bloc, with a content
going back decades, if not centuries earlier.
Today, one can find only one or two scholars in Timbuktu who still write out their works in
the Sudanic Arabic script, distinctive of the region, and there are about the same number of
persons who could be trusted to act as copyists. The ‘age of the manuscript’ has encountered the
‘age of mechanical reproduction’. As a result of the process of photocopying, a book can now
travel or circulate with even greater ease.
It is this question of the circulation of books in the Sahel and Mediterranean that is worth
considering. These days Timbuktu’s manuscripts travel to Bamako, the capital of Mali, for
exhibition and only on a few occasions have they left the country; this extended visit to South
Africa being one such rare case. The recent re-discovery of the literary heritage of Timbuktu has
attracted many visitors, but the various custodians of the archives have been appropriately
cautious and conservative in making their patrimony available for travel. However, the
custodians of Timbuktu’s literary heritage are keepers of what were once highly mobile objects;
the archives there being in fact huge repositories of travelling books. This easy movement had
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to be stopped, out of necessity, of course. Yet, in many ways, the manuscripts reflect a tradition
of learning in which texts travelled as much as scholars did, extensively and very regularly.
Judging by the size of the manuscripts, they were mostly easy to transport. They were circulated
between writers, were borrowed, were copied, were preserved and were moved about the town
and far beyond, while works authored elsewhere, and sometimes in very distant locations, were
brought to Timbuktu. These works on exhibition so distant from their current home have
histories of movement inscribed on them through space and time.
We do not have substantial data on each of the 40 items selected. We have sufficient,
however, to outline the most basic information: authorship in some cases, dating in other cases,
titles in most cases, and of course dimensions, such as size and number of folios. This is
information that we have come to assume is significant, but there were different attitudes to
such matters in Timbuktu. Anonymity was not a problem for many authors. Individuals as
distinctive producers of knowledge, were not valued in the way they are today. Similarly, the
date of composition of a work did not always matter. Such data is important to historians today,
but in Timbuktu they were of less consequence. There were no annual literary awards, neither
was copyright exercised. We have, therefore, limited individual history of the composition,
authorship, copying, ownership and circulation of the works. These are general considerations
to bear in mind as we look at the material.
The Tarikh al-Sudan is a famous chronicle of the Sahel, probably the most famous of all. It was
written by ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Sa’di, a scholar who moved around in the region but lived a part of
his life in Timbuktu. The history of the production and circulation of the Tarikh is not clear. But
we do know that copies were made and circulated in the region. In the 19th century the German
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traveller Heinrich Barth found a copy in Timbuktu and in the early 20th century Octave Houdas
edited one, translated it into French and published the first printed edition, while in 1998 an
English translation was prepared by John Hunwick. We have a copy of the Tarikh in this
exhibition. This kind of grand chronicling of the past was not a frequent practice in the region;
there were numerous smaller histories also called tarikh, but such large-scale chronicles were
exceptions and rightly celebrated as a feat of composition. The history narrated is interesting
and important, but equally significant is the fact that the manuscript took a considerable
number of sheets of paper – all imported from Europe – to complete it; as well as locally-made
ink, and the other basic technologies required for the production of a handwritten book. This
Tarikh is, therefore, a very significant expression of the written culture of Timbuktu and an
important reflection of the uses to which paper and book production were put in the region.
Furthermore, it is an example of the inherently collective nature of such literary production. It
can be attributed to a single author but we must take into account in turn his sources, oral and
textual; the copyists since there is more than one copy of the work; and also bring into the
discussion the paper merchants who transported the paper over long distances to the region, the
ink producers, and the leather craftsmen who made the enclosures. A book the size of the Tarikh
was an expensive object. And a perfectly reasonable question to ask is whether its production
was supported by the wealthier inhabitants of the town? We know who wrote this work but
what do we know about its reception, about its readers, and about how it was read? This is an
important issue to which we shall return.
A genre of writing that was highly valued in Timbuktu was what we now call religious prose
and poetry. The sacred scripture, al-Qur’an, and collections of the traditions of the Prophet
Muhammad and other books composed to educate believers and instill in them a profound
sense of the divine and pious conduct, are plentiful in the Timbuktu archives. The diversity of
titles may not be striking to a specialist in this field, but what is striking is the number of copies
of individual texts. Copies of works from within the Maliki school of Islamic law are particularly
numerous, such as the Risala of Ibn Abi Zayd. There are multiple copies of such works from
later periods of classical scholarship, although the Qur’an and canonical collections of hadith
(traditions or sayings attributed to the Prophet), make a less frequent appearance, according to
the available catalogues. This may seem strange but is also understandable. In the case of the
Qur’an it is possible that such a great value was placed on its calligraphic reproduction that
writing out its 6 000 or so verses was a task not to be taken on easily and cheaply, given its sacred
character. So ’The Book’ or ’The Reading’, as al-qur’an, translates, was rarely produced locally. We
have two copies in this exhibition and it is clear that they were works in which much was
invested. It is also possible that the sacred book was kept alive through its recitation, in part or
whole, from memory, for it is a book from which is read every day, and in one month of the
Islamic calendar, Ramadan, is read in its entirety; a practice that may be undertaken, individually
or collectively, at any other time of the year as well.
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A work that was highly valued was a biography of the Prophet Muhammad produced by the
12th century North African scholar, Qadi Iyad. This is not a standard prose biography based on
historical sources, but a sacred biography in a poetic metre. It was not meant for silent reading
to learn facts about the revered figure of the Prophet, but for recitation to achieve spiritual
fulfillment. We have a copy of his al-Shifa on exhibition. According to the catalogues of
manuscripts in Timbuktu, there are multiple copies of this text in the libraries there. It would
appear that after the Qur’an, this was the most widely read, or rather, recited work. But as in the
case of the Qur’an, we cannot say with certainty what mode of reading was employed for the
Shifa: was it aloud and in public, or silently and privately? It would be more appropriate to say
that they were recited texts; they were not read or studied, or copied and circulated in the way
other books were. Furthermore, they also may not have travelled around as often. The Shifa was
recited and at some point in the past it became a local convention for the whole work to be
’performed’, at least in parts of Timbuktu, during Ramadan. This entailed a reading in which the
Arabic original was recited by a scholar and a translation followed, usually in the local Songhay
dialect. The congregation would participate with salutations and other exclamations at certain
points in the reading and recitation.
Scattered among the Timbuktu manuscripts are texts dealing with astronomy and other
scientific subjects. These usually have impressive drawings and are composed in more than one
colour. But they are, like most science prose, often very complicated and hard to read. Based on
our present knowledge, they appear to be mostly copies of texts originally written outside of
West Africa and are often the work of famous mediaeval authors. Related to this are texts on
medicine by local and foreign authors. Astronomy and medicine were regarded as legitimate
disciplines but far more controversial, and even classified by some scholars as illegitimate, was
the practice of astrology and numerology. Yet, often astronomy and astrology were covered in
the same text. There were of course practical and religious benefits in writing about science.
Astrology had value for an individual and satisfied a curiosity about an individual’s past, present
and future; but such knowledge, it was argued, could also be put to negative uses. Some scholars
therefore prohibited its practice. Finding the correct direction to Mecca – so vital in a
community devoted to praying towards of the holy city of Mecca – could be done through
recourse to astronomical knowledge. The interesting question is not how these texts arrived in
Timbuktu in the first place, but why they were copied, read and circulated there. Finding the
correct direction for prayer was but one reason. What the presence of these texts point to, is
that members of the literate elite in Timbuktu were concerned with scientific problems
sometimes as inherently interesting and also as having practical relevance.
If we were to construct a continuum from ‘high’ to ‘low’ and locate the manuscripts on it,
then using paper and reed pen to ponder the wonders of nature, or perhaps speculate on the
future of a young woman or man, would be on the high end, and an assortment of other tracts
would come lower down. Among the latter would be the text, which is partly in the form of a
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The new Ahmed Baba library building under construction.
didactic poem, discussing the consumption of tobacco. The context is the mid-19th century
debate in the state of Masina about the permissibility of consuming tobacco. Other smaller texts
address quotidian issues and yet others are polemics between supporters of opposing political
positions.
Another genre of writing which combines serious scholarship and weighty problems but also
very often quotidian issues, is the fatwa genre; and the Timbuktu libraries have a substantial
number of these texts. Scholars wrote books and polemics, but also had to work on the worldly
matters of the day and become involved with the women and men of the region. The fatwa is a
legal response or opinion of a respected scholar learned in Islamic law. He responded to all sorts
of questions directed to him for a legal resolution. The fatwas in the Timbuktu libraries are very
largely of local or regional provenance and cover questions of family law and commercial law.
These are not items that travelled very far. Thus they give us a good sense of the issues that were
important to individuals and families and at certain controversial moments required a legal
opinion. Alternative opinions on the issue were often sought. How, in practical terms, was a
Timbuktu fatwa composed? A fatwa text consists of a statement of the problem in fairly succinct
terms; personal details are not usually supplied. After this follows a detailed discussion based on
well-known legal works and the opinion of the scholar. In writing his fatwa the scholar therefore
had to bring to the text his record of the oral transmission of the problem presented to him. He
then had to consult the various works of which he may or may not have had copies. If he did not
own one he would have to visit another scholar to borrow it or a copy, or read it at a colleague’s
home or in a mosque where he could discuss the problem with learned colleagues. The fatwa
text is therefore a rich document of local history with multiple texts interpreted and coming
together in response to a question. It is unclear whether copies were made of fatwas. Was a copy
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handed to the various parties involved in the conflict? Did other scholars circulate copies and
critique an opinion? It does appear as if fatwas were not simply accepted for there are cases in
the archives in Timbuktu of different fatwas addressing the same problem.
These are but a few notes on the types of works selected for this exhibition. The 40 texts
provide us with an opportunity to ask many questions about the history of the book in Africa.
Before the age of European colonization, there had been a long history of book production,
consumption and circulation in West Africa. These processes were only in some respects
reflections of the world of the book in, say, Cairo or Mecca, or nearby Fez; they were also local
and regional, a unique expression of the art of the book in West Africa. As mentioned, there
remains another interesting set of questions regarding the practices of reading and writing. Was
reading silent or collective? Was writing done privately at home or more publicly such as at a
mosque? When were the ideal times for reading and writing? Finally, there are questions about
the archive and library as presently constituted in Timbuktu, in relation for instance to the ways
in which libraries were organized at various points in Timbuktu’s manuscript age. The
thousands of manuscripts in Timbuktu today help us to imagine another era of scholarship with
very different styles of working with books. The manuscripts serve to bring to the fore
differences and commonalities relative to our own time, and inspire us to reflect on the world
of ideas that circulated in and around Timbuktu.
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AHMAD BABA OF TIMBUKTU (1556-1627):
Introduction to
his life and works
MAHMOUD ZOUBER
His Life
Ahmad Baba was born on the 21st of dhu al-hijja 963 / 26 October 1556 in Timbuktu into a family
of qadis (judges) and scholars. Both his father, Ahmad, and his paternal uncle, Abu Bakr, took
charge of his early education, teaching him to read and recite the Qur’an. Growing up in the
Timbuktu of the middle of the 16th century, the time of its cultural and intellectual height,
meant that Ahmad Baba did not have to travel far to pursue a higher education in the Islamic
disciplines. He studied for ten years under Muhammad Baghayogho al-Wangari, with whom he
read the classical texts of tafsir (exegesis), fiqh (law), hadith (traditions of the Prophet), nahw
(grammar), tawhid (theology) and tasawwuf (mysticism). He completed his education under the
tutelage ofother great intellectuals of the city, such as the qadi al-‘Aqib b. Muhammad Aqit and
Ahmad b. Sa’id.
At the time of the Moroccan conquest of Timbuktu in 1591, Ahmad Baba was in his thirties
and was considered the most accomplished scholar of Timbuktu. Respected for his character
and teachings, he openly opposed the Moroccan occupation and became the leader of the
intellectual opposition to the invaders. Two years after the conquest, in 1593, the Moroccan
Sultan Mulay Ahmad al-Mansur, ordered the arrest and exile to Morocco of Ahmad Baba and all
the members of his family. His rich library and his possessions were pillaged by the Sultan’s
soldiers – and a caravan of men, women and children left Timbuktu. Ahmad Baba was placed
under house arrest in Marrakech for two years, after which he was released on condition that
he remained in the town. He taught grammar, rhetoric, theology and especially maliki law at the
Jami’ al-Shurafa, the main mosque-university of Marrakech, and his teaching attracted several
distinguished Moroccan scholars. The Moroccan period (1593-1607) was in fact the most prolific
of his literary career; he wrote more than half of his known works during this time, about 29 of
a total of 56.
When Mulay Zaydan, the son of al-Mansur, became Sultan, he gave Ahmad Baba permission to
return to his country. Ahmed Baba arrived in Timbuktu on the 10th dhu al-hijja 1016 / 27 March 1607,
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after 14 years of exile. He spent the rest of his life in the city, devoting his time to teaching,
writing and to the promulgation of fatwas. He died on the 6th sha’ban 1036 / 22 April 1627, leaving
numerous distinguished disciples behind. Among these were ‘Abu al-Abbas al-Maqqari, the imam
and mufti of the Qarawiyyin mosque in Fez, who was one of his favourite disciples and who played
a central role in the propagation of Ahmad Baba’s works; ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Sa’di, Sudanese
historian and author of the famous Tarikh al-Sudan, which contains numerous references,
citations and praise of his master; and the Moroccan historian and poet Ahmad Ibn al-Qadi.
His Works
Ahmad Baba was a prolific writer, and of his 56 known works 32 are still in existence today. They
cover a wide range of topics, from treatises on grammar, theology and fiqh, to fatwas, as well as
summaries of and commentaries on classical Islamic texts. He authored a number of original
compositions that demonstrate the brilliance of his thought and place him among the
important intellectuals of his day. What follows is a brief introduction to four such works that
underline central themes in Ahmad Baba’s writing:
In 1613, Ahmad Baba’s fame had spread so widely that he had the honour of being consulted by
the scholars of Touat in Algeria about the juridical condition of the enslaved people from the
Bilad al-Sudan – the region south of the Sahara stretching from the west coast of Africa to the
Red Sea. The people of Touat, alarmed by the continuous traffic of slaves passing through their
oasis, wrote to Ahmad Baba to ask his advice. He answered their questions, point by point in his
usual methodical way, motivating his opinions by arguments of fact and law, and comple-
menting them with citations from the Qur’an, hadith, from famous historians such as Ibn
Khaldun and from other well-known scholars.
The first question posed to Ahmad Baba was about the juridical condition of the individuals
captured in certain regions of the Bilad al-Sudan, like Bornu, where Islam had become the
dominant religion: ‘Can one, under the letter of the law, consider oneself as the legitimate owner
of these individuals?’ (fol. 2a) Ahmad Baba responded that, although the slave markets in the
Bilad al-Sudan were supplied through raids by the blacks themselves, this defied the protective
laws of the jihad, and therefore such commerce was illegal from all points of view.
One should observe here that the scholars from Touat themselves seemed to have forgotten
that religious law forbade them to buy such captives, whether they were Muslim or not: the
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Muslims, because they were free and nothing could deprive them of their freedom; the non-
Muslims, because they had been captured in an irregular war, not undertaken for the greater
glory of Islam, and because their enslavement had not been preceded by due legal process.
In further discussion with the Touat scholars, Ahmad Baba first excluded Muslims from the
category of slaves, and then excluded those protected by Islam.
Ahmad Baba, a black man himself, and consequently interested in pleading the case of his
fellow Africans, judged this to be a good occasion to fight against a prejudice that had terrible
consequences for them. On the basis of a tradition considered authentic, the blacks belonged to
a ‘cursed’ race, destined to servitude in the expiation of an ‘original sin’ that conversion to Islam
was barely able to erase. One recalls that, according to the Bible, the prophet Nuh (Noah) had
cursed his son Ham, and that the descendants of this disrespectful son were destined to be the
slaves of the descendants of Sam (Shem) and of Yafith (Japheth) until the end of time.3 This
legend, which the Qur’an does not mention, despite its numerous borrowings from the Bible,
had a curious interpretation by Arab authors. Ibn Ishaq (d. 741), the author of the famous Sira,
seems to have been the first one to write on the subject.
Ahmad Baba tried to prove the apocryphal character of this tradition. In this respect, he
thought it necessary to cite a long passage of the Muqqadima, in which Ibn Khaldun recalls the
curse of Ham, but Ahmed Baba adds that this is not related to the darkness of the skin of his
descendants. He writes, ‘There is absolutely no difference between the different human races,
whether they come from Ham or another. It is possible that Noah’s curse, if it has fallen upon a
certain number of Ham’s descendants, has not fallen upon all’. (fol. 5a) Here, Ahmad Baba clearly
pleads attenuating circumstances, in case the scholars from Touat refused to admit the
apocryphal character of the tradition regarding the children of Ham. He writes: ‘Supposing that
the latter is the father of the people of the Bilad al-Sudan, God is too merciful to make millions
atone for the fault of one man’. (fol. 5b)
Finally, regarding the necessity of treating slaves well, Ahmad Baba recalls the tradition that
‘Your slaves are your brothers’, adding as follows: ‘God orders that slaves must be treated with
humanity, whether they are black or not; one must pity their sad luck, and spare them bad
treatment, since just the fact of becoming the owner of another person bruises the heart,
because servitude is inseparable from the idea of violence and domination, especially when it
relates to a slave taken far away from his country’. (fol. 6a) Ahmad Baba continues, ‘Are we not
all descendants of Adam? … It is because of this that the Prophet has said: ”God the Most High
has made you the master of the slave; if he had wanted, he would have made him master over
you.” The Prophet reminds the master that God has graced him with being admitted among the
Muslims, while he has left the slave and his ancestors in the darkness of infidelity, to the point
of allowing him to be taken as captive’. (fol. 6a)
25
One cannot but be struck by how closely questions and answers interrelate in this work. One
asks oneself if there had not been a continuous exchange of correspondence between the
scholars from Touat and Ahmad Baba. If so, the Mi’raj al-su’ud would be a summary of a letters
exchanged between both parties, and then rewritten for a wider public. This is a simple
hypothesis, but it seems otherwise difficult to explain this interrelatedness, unless one supposes
that Ahmad Baba was both the author of the questions and the answers. This possibility,
however, is refuted by the preamble. Be that as it may, the conclusion which one can draw from
this work is that even if Ahmad Baba does not condemn slavery in a categorical manner (which
would have been surprising coming from a man who wrote at the beginning of the 17th century),
one finds in most of his arguments a certain disapproval of an institution which diminishes
human dignity and reduces human beings to the category of things.
This is Ahmad Baba’s most famous work, and we cannot dream of analysing in detail this huge
composition. However, since it contains invaluable documents on the cultural history of the Bilad
al-Sudan and because of the light it sheds on the state of the Arab literature in the Maghreb and in
Spain, we think it important to summarize its structure and give a more exact idea of its contents.
The Kifaya is a complement to the Dibaj al-mudhahhab (a biographical dictionary of the scholars
of the Maliki school) by Burhan al-din Ibn Farhun, a sage from Medina, who died in 805 / 1397.
It is organized in alphabetical order, like the Dibaj and the Wafayat al-a’yan of Ibn Khallikan.
26
The Kifaya contains 662 biographies including that of Ahmad Baba himself. It constitutes one of
the main sources of the bio-bibliography of the Maghreb until the end of the 16th century. It also
follows the intellectual trends of the Bilad al-Sudan during the 15th and 16th centuries. In fact,
this work describes the schools and ‘universities’ in the area frequented by a large number of
students and its teachers from the Bilad al-Sudan, explaining in Arabic the books adopted for
teaching in the big universities of the Maghreb and the Orient; its considerable libraries and
works of scholars from the area; its princes and their generosity towards the men of science; and
its caravans of pilgrims that passed every year through Timbuktu on the way to Mecca.
Furthermore, the Kifaya is a vast and curious compilation of authors who concerned
themselves particularly with the Maghreb and Muslim Spain. In this respect, it has the same
value as the great works of biographical literature of the time – as much for the utility of the
subject as for original interpretations the essence of which it contains. It has sometimes been
criticised for the lack of detail in the portrayal of characters by those not very familiar with
Muslim authors of the 16th century; however, one cannot but acknowledge the great exactitude
of the bio-bibliographical details.
At the end of the Kifaya, Ahmad Baba lists the important references for this work, citing a
total of 40 titles of which the majority have been lost or are not published. He relates that he
interviewed orally many of his contemporaries, from the Bilad al-Sudan and the Maghreb, such
as his father and his friend and disciple Muhammad b. Ya’qub al-Marrakushi. (fol. 244a) This is
the substance of the Kifaya al-muhtaj. It is, clearly, a gallery of the more eminent scholars of the
Maliki school who lived in the Maghreb and in Spain up to the time of the author. It is also an
almost unique testimony to the knowledge of the cultural history of the Bilad al-Sudan during
the 15th and 16th centuries.
The Jalb al-ni’ma is one of the earliest dated works of Ahmad Baba, at least of those that we have
and been able to identify. It contains an analytical table which completes the preamble, four
chapters and a conclusion.
At the beginning, Ahmad Baba describes the goal of his work: ‘It is, to alert myself and to
warn my compatriots and peers against frequenting the company of ”oppressive rulers” that I
have composed this work.’ Thus, the central theme of the book is the question of the
relationship between power and knowledge.
In the first three chapters, Ahmad Baba, though with no connecting thread, reveals the
opinions of the Muslim scholars who, according to him, are not in agreement on this matter. In
the fourth chapter the author gives his own opinion, which is of interest, but there is no
synthetic view, the questions arranged randomly without explaining the chosen order. The
27
particular interest of this chapter, however, is found in the lessons Ahmad Baba draws from
these relationships, that for him cannot but end in the ’profound schism and irremediable
separation’ between power and knowledge. The proof is found in the almost permanent dangers
experienced by those scholars who play the role of simple courtiers and not of upholders of the
religious law. Without doubt, the author is referring to the example of certain scholars, whose
ambition was to guide and inspire the politics of the state, and who ended up identifying their
interests with those of the princes and kings.
In fact, Ahmad Baba recounts numerous tales and anecdotes in relation to renowned figures
tested in their relationships with princes. On the other hand, he recounts stories and anecdotes
where the scholars, solicited by princes, refused to give in to their demands. One could wonder
why Ahmad Baba had to go back so far in history to find examples of scholars who were the
object of brutal repression by those they had agreed to serve, or who despite the pressing
demands of princes refused all ties with them. This could have been a sort of ‘tactical dissimu-
lation’ and a way to avoid the anger of the kings and princes of his time, who did not like scholars
questioning the limits of their power.
In this chapter, the hostility of Ahmad Baba towards the princes and his unlimited contempt
for scholars who court them becomes apparent. But how could it be otherwise? Ahmad Baba,
whose forefathers were persecuted by Sonni ‘Ali, and who himself was subject to wholesale
persecution by the Moroccan occupation authorities could not but condemn the cruelties and
abuse of tyrants.
Ahmad Baba’s conclusion summarizes his thoughts in a very frank manner: ‘There is, in what
we have said, enough proof to convince the scholars and all those who hope for the salvation of
their souls and wish to escape peril, to stay away from oppressive rulers’. (fol. 30b) This is, clearly,
the opinion of a man who, having been the object of the atrocities of oppressors, was extremely
wary of them, and who dreaded power, which according to him, corrupts and easily leads to hell.
Nevertheless, Ahmad Baba could make the distinction between good and bad rulers. His ‘anti-
tyrannical’ remarks contain beneath the surface an appeal to meditate on the phrase that his
suffering uncle, ‘Umar b. Mahmud (qadi of Timbuktu, deported at the same time as him),
addressed to the Moroccan Sultan al-Mansur: ‘You are the oppressor and I the oppressed, soon
the oppressor will meet the oppressed in the presence of God, the equitable Judge.’
The work is organized as follows: a preamble, three chapters and a conclusion (khatima). Chapter I
is entitled ‘The Virtues and Merits of the ‘Ulama’ and contains numerous Qur’anic verses and
hadiths proving these merits. Chapter II traces the primacy of ‘religious science’ (‘ilm) over
‘spiritual practice’ (‘ibada); a great number of hadiths and athars are cited to support this thesis.
28
Chapter III is a comparison between the scholars (ulama) and the gnostics or ‘saints’. Here, in
addition to certain hadiths and athars already cited, are found lengthy developments of the views
of the great Muslim scholars. Finally in the conclusion, the personal position of the author with
regard to all the points made is elaborated.
Before approaching these points in detail, it is important to underline that the ‘ilm in
question here is above all the sacred science, the science related in one way or the other to the
study of the Qur’an, of the Sunna, of the religious law (fiqh); in other words, relating to that
which must be believed and which must be done to assure one’s salvation.
In the first two chapters of the Tufhat al-fudala’, which are devoted to the merits of the
religious sciences and their preeminence over spiritual practices, Ahmad Baba does not refrain
from recounting with real satisfaction numerous Qur’anic texts and hadith, where in the eyes of
the faithful, the ‘ilm (religious sciences) and the ‘alim (scholar) are exalted in concise formulas:
‘Say: those who know and those who do not are they of the same rank?’ (Qur’an, 39:9). ‘Ask
those who know if you do not’ (Qur’an, 15:43). ‘It is thus that the most knowledgeable among
the servants of God fear Him’ (Qur’an, 35:28). ‘Find knowledge even if it be in China.’ 7 ‘The
seeking of knowledge is an obligation on all Muslims.’ 8 ‘The scholars are the inheritors of the
prophets.’9 ‘The ink of the scholar is more valuable than the blood of the martyr’, etc.
In the third chapter where Ahmad Baba compares the scholars (ulama) with the ‘saints-sages’ (al-
awliya’ al-‘arifun bi-llah), he emphasizes that there exists a great difference of opinion regarding this
29
topic among scholars. (fol. 45a) He shows how each group tries to make their argument, ‘For some,
the scholars are superior to the saints-sages, while for others, it is the latter who are superior.’
(fol. 55a) Then he sets out at length the arguments developed by the supporters of each side.
On the one side is the thesis supporting the superiority of the saints-sages, defended by a
group of mystical scholars headed by Abu Hamid al-Ghazali. On the other is the opposing thesis
in support of the superiority of the scholars, represented by the four founding fathers of the
judicial schools, namely Malik, Abu Hanifa, al-Shafi’i and Ahmad b. Hanbal.
Based on a notion derived from al-Ghazali, the defenders of the first thesis make a distinction
between two sorts of sciences, the ‘exterior sciences’ (al-‘ulum al-zahira) and the ‘interior
sciences’ (al-‘ulum al-batina). They note that the majority of the exterior sciences separate one
from God’s path and impede those who occupy themselves with such study, preventing them
from taking an interest in the interior sciences, which embellish the soul with virtues and
extirpate all its vices and defects from it. (fol. 56a) According to this belief, it is thus
inconceivable to put the gnostics (who are the true holders of the interior sciences) on the same
level as the scholars (who are deprived of them), and hence the reason to sustain the supremacy
of the former.
According to the defenders of the second thesis, the pre-eminence of the scholars is proven
from two points of view. Firstly from the point of view of tradition for, as we have seen above,
there are abundant traditions praising the religious sciences and the advantages given to those
who study them, and secondly from the ‘discursive or speculative’ point of view. In this latter
regard, they offer three arguments. The first of these is that the study of the religious sciences is
both a ‘personal obligation’ and ‘an obligation on the community’, while only devoting oneself
30
to spiritual practice is optional. Secondly, the utility of knowledge is not limited to
the person who has it but extends to the community, while ‘sanctity’ is limited to
the person of the saint; the primacy of the religious science can thus be
sustained, since a benefit which extends to another is certainly better than
that which only profits an individual. Lastly, nobody can doubt the urgent
necessity of having scholars who teach the religious sciences and interpret
the Law for the community, while it matters little to people whether there are
people who devote themselves exclusively to spiritual practices or not.
Finally, in the Conclusion where he reveals his personal position, Ahmad Baba
shows a great flexibility of spirit. In fact, while noting his sympathy for the thesis of
the supremacy of the scholars, he indicates that the arguments advanced by those opposed to it
are not without interest. He underlines, in this regard, that ‘those who possess the sciences or
knowledge and do not act according to their teachings are only half-obedient, while those who
possess it and act in consequence have double the merit.’ He concludes: ‘We tend towards the
idea of the pre-eminence of the scholars, as proven by numerous hadith and athars as well as
numerous traditions going back to the “virtuous ancients”. But the scholars meant here are those
who prove their piety and devotion and live in conformity with the teachings of the Qur’an and
the Sunna, and not those who seek to derive from their science the immediate interests or a
personal glory.’
Ahmad Baba is an example of a great African intellectual. He acquired his knowledge in
Africa, while his fame spread beyond the continent to the rest of the Muslim world. The sophis-
tication of his thought and the prolific nature of his writings contribute to an appreciation of
the intense intellectual activity that took place in Africa well before the arrival of the European
colonizers.
Notes
1 This is based on the book by Mahmoud A. Zouber, Ahmad Baba de Tombouctou (1556-1627), His Life and
his Works (Paris: G.P. Maisonneuve et Larose, 1977). Dr Zouber was the first director of the Ahmed Baba
Institute. Translated and adapted from the original French by Susana Molins Lliteras. (Ahmed is often
rendered Ahmad in English)
2 References from manuscript no. 1724, in the General Library, Rabat.
3 Book of Genesis, IX: 20-27.
4 References from manuscript no. 453, in the Royal Library, Rabat. The manuscript contains 244 pages
of medium format, with 21 lines per folio on each side.
5 References from manuscript no. K 383, in the General Library, Rabat. This copy is not dated and is
composed of 32 folios of medium format.
6 References from manuscript no. 5534 (fol. 42b-66b), in the Royal Library, Rabat. The manuscript is
undated, and is 225x170mm in dimension, with 23 or 24 lines per folio on each side.
7 This hadith was told by Nasa’i, Tahara, 112; Ahmad, IV, 240, V, 328.
8 See Ibn Maja and Bukhari.
9 Reported by Bukhari, Abu Dawud, Ibn Maja, Darimi and Ahmad b. Hanbal.
31
32
CONSERVATION IN THE EXTREME :
Preserving the
manuscripts of Timbuktu
MARY MINICKA
Since 2003 I have worked in Timbuktu as part of a team of South African book and document
conservators, tasked with assisting in the preservation of manuscripts housed in the Ahmed
Baba Institute, or IHERI-AB, in Timbuktu. Describing what it is like to work in Timbuktu defies
a quick or easy answer. Generally, Timbuktu is a tough place to work in, for it is a place of
extremes – extremes that in time become a kind of normality – and contradictions and
exceptions abound there, often where one least expects to find them.
The climate is the first thing you will notice about Timbuktu, and the last thing you will
remember. The overwhelming heat is what everybody who goes there will tell you about. The
heat in Timbuktu seems to be another kind of heat. You imagine that it is somehow unique to
Timbuktu’s location on the edge of the Sahara Desert, while knowing that this heat is nothing
special for people who live there. Timbuktu’s heat slams down on you the moment you step out of
the plane, and for the rest of your stay its tangible presence will constantly grind away at you. In spite
of the heat, you are unlikely to see any sweat; the climate being so dry, evaporation is instant.
Timbuktu’s legendary heat does not mean that one does not experience cold. Winter days
start out at a bone-marrow-ripping morning chill that rises to a respectable average of an upper 20
to lower 30 degrees Centigrade by mid-afternoon, quickly reverting to a tooth-enamel-cracking
evening chill. I missed my first experience of rain in Timbuktu, assuming that my team-
members and colleagues were pulling my leg when they shouted to me to come and see the rain.
Another of the extremes associated with Timbuktu, almost to the point of cliché, is the geo-
graphic remoteness of Timbuktu. Even in Mali, Timbuktu is considered today to be a remote place.
The four separate flights required (if all goes according plan) to get from Cape Town to Timbuktu
make for interesting travel, as our team often has to transport heavy rolls of book-binding cloth,
33
board, glues, repair tissues and pastes – not to mention working tools – and enough clothing,
essential ‘padkos’ from home, and other requirements to last us for the length of our stay.
Yet, the remoteness and difficulty in reaching Timbuktu is belied by the vast numbers of
historical manuscripts still present in and around Timbuktu (and in the wider West African
region). Despite Timbuktu’s apparent remoteness, it was for centuries a place where many
scholars lived and visited, accompanied by their personal manuscript collections, and a centre
where manuscripts were traded and eagerly exchanged by collectors. It is these manuscripts that
are the reason my colleagues, Alexio Motsi of the National Archives in Pretoria (and Timbuktu
Manuscripts Conservation Team Leader), Oswald Cupido of the National Library of South
Africa (Cape Town), and I regularly travel to Timbuktu.
34
manuscripts were part of, or
were in themselves, a very
tangible economic activity
from which people derived a
living (and in some cases
considerable social status),
one that linked papermakers,
stationers, scribes, scholars,
bookbinders, tanners, gilders
Boubar Sadeck, Timbuktu calligrapher, writing with a reed pen. and farmers in a wide socio-
economic network. This
means that the whole manuscript can be placed under scrutiny: leather, paper, textile,
decoration – each aspect has the potential to contribute a fuller understanding of the context.
Or, invariably, raises yet more questions.
This is, in part, why the manuscripts of Timbuktu are so important. While their content will
keep academics busy for decades to come, the manuscripts as objects of material culture can
also help us to understand the broader social, aesthetic and economic nature of the manuscript
culture of Africa, and specifically of Timbuktu and its environs.
As I hold a Timbuktu manuscript in my hands, I have a powerful sense of the manuscript as
an individually-created and unique item; and as I work with a manuscript, an awareness of the
presence of the manuscript’s creator/s and successive generations of readers is likewise very
strong. Each manuscript I have encountered is a unique entity, shaped not only by its individual
history of use or abuse, but also by how it was assembled: covers showing multiple repairs and
patching; the edges of the paper lining the inside of a manuscript cover cut in decorative
patterns at the edges; leather covers with two symmetrical holes that reveal evidence of the teats
of the once live female kid-goat; partial handprints and fingerprints of hasty scribes recorded in
the ink of the text; texts written on European hand-made paper with watermarks that can be
seen when held up to a light source; a succession of neat holes on pages indicating that a
manuscript now composed of loose pages were once sewn together; the impressions on the
paper made by a mastara, or rule guide, that guided the copyist in writing straight and regularly
spaced lines of text; marginal notes in different hands and inks of successive generations of
reader-scholars… and much more.
One of the great pleasures gained in working with the manuscripts of Timbuktu is an
encounter with a long-established manuscript-making tradition. We are only beginning to
scratch the surface in our understanding of the manuscripts from a compositional, structural
and material point of view. There is so much to learn and to understand about these manuscripts
– and to flesh out the history of manuscript production in West Africa. It is both a tremen-
dously exciting challenge and terrifying in its scope at the same time.
35
Alexio Motsi from the National Archives of South Africa training staff in Mali in conservation practice.
Whatever professional and personal satisfaction I may experience in engaging directly with
manuscripts in Timbuktu, there is a very practical reason for getting to know the manuscripts.
As book and document heritage conservators, we need to understand the objects under our
care. We must know how they came to be made, what they were made of and how they were
used, in order to understand why they came to be damaged and how to repair them, in such a
way that impacts as little as possible on the manuscript as a historical artifact, while helping to
prolong the life of the manuscript.
The information required goes beyond a basic understanding of the bare components of any
given manuscript in Timbuktu: leather, paper and textile. We need to understand how the leather
was made; where the paper came from; why certain materials were preferred to others and also
learn about the aesthetic choices made in the decoration of the manuscript covers and pages.
Much of this information taps into indigenous knowledge systems of the region. One of the
earliest tasks that we set ourselves was to understand the leather-making tradition in Timbuktu,
which we have now begun to document. Our initial motivation was that we needed to know if
we could use the locally tanned leather for conservation repair work. Being able to use locally
produced leather was not only practical in that it hopefully would be simpler and easier to
acquire leather; but in this way the work of the Timbuktu Manuscripts Project could also
meaningfully support the local economy and artisans. Other investigations may range much
further, for example, much of the paper used for the manuscripts originated from Europe.
There are several lifetimes’ worth of study, investigation and discovery that lie in wait, and the
challenge is again both exciting and daunting.
36
An important part of the Conservation Team’s project was to research the manuscripts of
Timbuktu in the context of the wider region of West Africa. This acquaintanceship has been an
ongoing journey, also with its particular challenges. The amount of literature available on the
manuscripts of the region is miniscule when compared to that of other manuscript-making
traditions, such as mediaeval Europe which, ironically, created but a fraction of the volume of
manuscripts produced by Islamic cultures.
Such information will enable us to make informed and responsible conservation treatment
and repair decisions. Contextual understanding of the objects under our care is required from
all conservators. These broad ethical principles guide us in formulating an approach to working
with unique and often irreplaceable heritage objects. This need to learn has been even more
acute in our work in Timbuktu, where we are confronted with a manuscript–making tradition
unfamiliar to us, having trained mainly in the conservation of European and American book-
binding traditions.
Ethical principles that guide conservators’ approach to their work demand that conservators
consider any given book, manuscript or document as a whole, including its context and history.
In Timbuktu the manuscripts are not only heritage items, reflecting the region’s particular
history and cultural trajectory, but they are also integrally part of its religious history.
Amongst heritage conservators worldwide, there is a lively debate about the implications of
working with religious artifacts, no matter what their form, shape or original sacred function is
or may have been. There are many aspects to this debate, most of which centre around an
understanding that most objects of a religious nature now housed in museums, libraries and
archives were not originally envisaged to be divorced from their ritual or religious element, as
objects of historical curiosity or beauty. To an extent heritage institutions and heritage conser-
vators are embarking on something of an experiment in attempting to find some sort of balance
between the respect accorded to all objects of religious value or origin and the custodial and
managerial demands of safeguarding objects of cultural heritage.
Religious beliefs (or the lack of them) are a very intimate and personal part of each human
being, exerting a very powerful influence. There are some conservators who question the
desirability of even considering the sacred aspect of historical or cultural objects. For some
conservators getting caught up in the minutiae around the requirements for the maintenance
of a particular religious system’s notion of sacredness constitutes little more than an interesting
distraction that has the potential to derail a conservator’s ability to repair and treat the objects.
This aspect of a heritage conservator’s work will probably never be satisfactorily resolved to
create universally applicable guidelines and, like much else in a conservator’s working life, will
have to be tackled on an individual case-by-case basis.
37
The challenges in preserving Timbuktu’s manuscripts
There are many factors that contribute towards the loss of cultural heritage, most of which work
together in an interrelated manner over a long period of time to damage or obliterate an object.
Through the news media we have become conditioned to equate the loss of cultural heritage
with a single cataclysmic event. However, the reality is actually far more mundane. For the most
part, it is an incremental process of damage acquired and aggravated over a period of time
through a combination of poor environmental and storage conditions, as well as rough and
inconsiderate treatment by humans that eventually reduces a book or manuscript to little more
than a neat pile of dust.
In Timbuktu, we can reliably say that probably the biggest challenge to the continued
survival of the manuscripts is posed by the harsh climate of the region. The high temperatures
and lack of sufficient humidity conspire to prematurely age the materials of which the
manuscripts in Timbuktu are composed. The fact that many manuscripts have survived is a
testament to the quality of many of the materials, as well as to luck and happenstance.
One of the most common results of the effect of the hot and arid climate on the continued
survival of Timbuktu’s manuscripts is that of ‘chipping’. Chipping is the term conservators use to
describe a condition where the edges of a page gradually flake away until there is nothing left
of the page, and eventually of the manuscript itself. Chipping is a symptom of the desiccation of
Mary Minicka, conservator from the Western Cape Archives, examining manuscript pages for watermarks.
38
the paper and its consequent embrittlement. I work with paper of a similar age in the Western
Cape Archives, and the difference is startling: paper in Timbuktu is often so very light and so
very brittle, not because it is particularly thin or poorly made, but because there is so little
moisture left in the paper.
The hot and arid conditions also at times affect the manuscripts’ leather covers to the extent
that the covers begin to fail as protective enclosures for the paper and cause actual harm to the
paper they are supposed to protect. This factor has forced us to separate a number of
manuscripts from their original covers, something not done under ordinary circumstances. Our
Malian colleagues at the IHERI-AB have worked closely with us to devise a conservation
replacement cover for these particular manuscripts. This conservation replacement cover takes
the aesthetic and basic construction associated with Islamic manuscript covers and the
distinctive leather working tradition of Timbuktu and merges them with the protection
afforded by portfolio folders made to protect the manuscript’s contents. The original cover is
kept and housed together with the new conservation replacement cover and its contents in a
protective box; another of our ethical principles being that we do not discard anything.
After the heat, sand and dust are the most pervasive companions of, and challenges for,
Timbuktu’s manuscripts. It is everywhere: people live in and around it – it is even in your food.
Dust poses an enormous danger to the manuscripts: it scuffs and wears the surface of paper,
leather and inks; it causes stains on the paper surface when combined with water; surface dirt
on paper also consists of fungal spores that result in mould outbreaks, should climatic
conditions be favorable.
But, there are always contradictions in Timbuktu. One of the most noticeable is that just
about every manuscript we have either observed or worked with has some sort of evidence of
damage incurred from exposure to water: puckering and cockling of leather and paper,
tidemarks, water stains, even stains caused by mould. Despite the fact that the manuscripts are
in a desert environment, many (if not most) were sufficiently exposed to water somehow, to
leave evidence of their encounter.
Insects are frequently-mentioned enemies of books and manuscripts. Many feed directly on
the cellulose content of paper, while others merely work their way through manuscripts and
books on their way to somewhere else. In Timbuktu, termites wreak unbelievable havoc on the
manuscripts, sculpting miniature landscapes inside the pile of a manuscript’s pages, leaving little
more than piles of dusty insect frass. Termites seem almost to operate by a kind of stealth. Many
manuscripts betray outward evidence of the extent of the damage. Looking at a closed
manuscript you think everything is fine, until you open it to find the manuscript has almost
disappeared, eaten out from the middle.
It seems that just about every condition harmful to the continued survival of manuscripts is
present in Timbuktu. I must admit that I spent the first few days of my first trip to Timbuktu in
2003 wanting to run screaming back to Cape Town as the enormity and challenge of the work
slowly became apparent.
39
Making conservation boxes for manuscripts.
The words conservation, restoration and preservation are used (sometimes interchangeably) to
describe the work of heritage conservators.
Restoration is one of the older terms used for conservation and most people are familiar with
it because the news media insist on using it when they talk about the work of conservators.
Restoration is an attempt to return an object to its original state, trying to recreate what the
object might have looked like, however many years or centuries ago it was made. Herein, lies the
problem with restoration. Our ideas today of what an historical object should look like could
be wrong – and have been. Historical accounts of how manuscripts and books were created are
scanty, while the history of the book is a field of interest that has only been around a relatively
short while. The other major problem is that restoration lies close to the process of fabrication
and forgery; some conservators are so highly skilled that it is easy for the unscrupulous to pass
a restored object off as an un-restored object, worth many times more than a restored object.
Restoration as a concept and practice in the field of heritage preservation is now largely rejected
in favor of conservation.
Conservation and preservation are a little trickier to separate, and definitions largely depend
on the author’s point of view. Conservation is often described as any and all attempts to halt and
prevent further damage or deterioration of any given object. For many conservators who
actually work with repairing and treating the object (’bench work’), like myself, this usually
means the actual physical treatment and repair of a damaged object. It may be useful to think of
40
conservation as the necessary maintenance of a collection, similar to that required to keep a
building functional and habitable. Any given collection of heritage objects (even a modern
library) has a value that can be quantified: the collection cost money to acquire, administer and
manage; and, like any resource, it requires ongoing maintenance in order to retain (or grow) that
value. Bench conservators have a range of treatment and repair techniques at their disposal,
ranging from cleaning of the paper’s surface of all dirt and grime with a variety of erasers and
soft brushes (dry-cleaning), to the immersion of the paper in various chemical baths in order to
wash out or neutralize harmful chemical compounds which will, if unchecked, ultimately cause
the paper to disintegrate (aqueous treatments). Another important part of our work is the
physical repair of torn paper and the lining of weakened paper, with a variety of specialist
European and Japanese repair papers.
The difference between conservation and restoration is that conservation seeks only to
repair what is physically present on the conservator’s work bench. Conservation does not ever
seek to interpret, replace or manufacture the missing parts of an object. Once again, we revert
to the ethical principles that guide conservators in their work, viz. respecting the integrity of the
object (even if there is little left to repair), and repairing only what is damaged (the principle of
minimal intervention).
Conservators are to be found in every discipline, specializing in the conservation of a particular
type of heritage object: books, paper, artworks on paper, photographic materials, textiles, furniture,
wooden objects, upholstery, sculpture, oil paintings, stone, architecture, archaeology, historical
costumes, beadwork, basketry, modern plastics, ceramics, video and new media such as digital
records and images, and so on. Some conservators will specialize very narrowly while others, for
example those working with paper and books, may work across a broader spectrum.
Preservation encompasses conservation, but often includes more than the physical repair of
heritage objects. It looks at the broader management of the conservation process. One of its
earlier names was that of conservation management, which I think sums up the concept better
than the more currently fashionable term, preservation. The individualized conservation
treatment repair of a single object is a costly and time-consuming process requiring specialized
skills, materials and equipment. It makes sense for a heritage institution, therefore, to manage
the way in which the object is stored, used and exhibited so as to ensure that the minimum
amount of damage is incurred, preventing large costs associated with the conservation repair
and treatment of a book or document further down the line, as well as ensuring the life of an
object for as long as possible.
As we embarked on the manuscripts project, we understood that the environment was clearly
going to be the single most significant threat to the continued survival of the manuscripts in
Timbuktu. To an extent, this is nothing unique as climate or environment is usually the single
41
most important factor affecting the
well-being of any cultural object or
artifact anywhere in the world. What is
unique in Timbuktu, however, is how
extreme the climate is. We therefore
had to evaluate carefully the appropri-
ateness of each conservation technique
for conditions in Timbuktu.
Manuscripts from earlier conser-
vation endeavours at the IHERI-AB
sadly reveal the dangers of an uncritical
implementation of otherwise sound
conservation strategies and practices.
CONSERVATORS AT WORK: The technician here is busy brushing the
surface sand, dust and grit from a manuscript’s pages. He is using a While there is an enormous need for
soft bristled artists brush. This is called surface or dry cleaning, and
forms an important aspect of the conservation of the manuscripts in conservation work to be done to safe-
Timbuktu.
guard the manuscripts of Timbuktu,
attempts at playing conservator by foreign unqualified ‘cultural-aiders’ who have clearly not
spent time getting to understand the challenges in Timbuktu, nor undergone the necessary
training in conservation themselves, have done little beyond creating practical lessons in what
not to do.
One of the most startling encounters with inappropriate conservation techniques was the
use of white cotton gloves by technicians that we observed on our first visit. The wearing of
white cotton gloves while handling art or cultural objects has become something of a stereo-
typical practice. In spite of this, there are serious reservations amongst conservators working
with books and paper on the desirability of wearing white gloves: they rob your hands of the
ability to feel and handle fragile articles in a delicate manner; they are very hot to work with for
any length of time; they also get dirty, and, if not washed regularly, will simply spread dirt
further. Although there are significant exceptions, book and document conservators as a rule
prefer to work with bare, clean hands. In Timbuktu the added disadvantage of using white gloves
42
is that the woven texture of the gloves picks up particles of fine sand, becoming in effect a kind
of sandpaper with the potential to scuff and abrade the delicate surface of the paper and inks.
Discouraging the use of white gloves in favor of working with bare, clean hands was the first
change that we implemented.
To return to the extremes of the climate of Timbuktu, we felt that it would be important to
separate the manuscripts from contact with the largely hostile environment by placing them in
protective boxes or portfolios. The use of protective enclosures would both isolate the
manuscripts from contact with the hostile environment, while affording the manuscript
protection from physical damage by absorbing any future knocks and bangs. Importantly the
protective box would also serve as a barrier to dust, insects and moisture. For this reason we
chose the sturdiest type of box construction made from the highest quality archival materials;
this ‘clam-shell’ construction completely encloses a manuscript once shut. Each protective box
will ultimately form the final layer of a succession of protective layers that will separate the
manuscripts from the harsh Timbuktu climate, starting with the outer fabric of the building
housing the IHERI-AB collection.
These protective boxes are made by hand, to accommodate the measurements and
dimensions of the individual manuscript. I find it very gratifying to see how these boxes have
very quickly begun to fulfill their intended purpose by ensuring that the very fine dust that does
manage to penetrate the present IHERI-AB building gets no further than the exterior of the
protective boxes that now form the majority of the shelved items. The regular and uniform
shapes of the boxes, as well as their easily cleaned covering, ensure that the cleaning of the
shelves and boxes will be a far easier task in the future.
As indicated, a major impact of the environment on the manuscripts in Timbuktu is that they
have acquired a fine layer of sand and grit on the surface of the paper pages and leather covers.
One of the most basic and frequently used conservation techniques is that of dry-cleaning
which entails the careful removal of this surface dirt with a variety of soft erasers and artist
QUILTED SUPPORT CUSHION COVER FOR A MANUSCRIPT COVER: This cover is damaged and the decorative studs meant that the
cover could not perform its protective function. Thus a conservation replacement cover was made for the pages, and the original
cover protected with a quilted support and cover. The two elements of the manuscript are stored together in a protective box.
43
brushes. It is painstaking work requiring constant attention, partic-
ularly when working with fragile materials. Dry-cleaning forms one
of the core conservation treatment activities in Timbuktu. Getting
rid of the surface dirt is the first treatment that any manuscript will
undergo; it may also be the only one, if no further conservation
treatment is required. It is only once a manuscript has been dry-
cleaned that it will go on to being boxed or for further repair.
There is much paper that is fragile and damaged, requiring either
repair or a supportive lining with specialist gossamer-thin Japanese
repair tissue papers. Performing such repairs presents a considerable
challenge in Timbuktu. Because the paper is so dry, the slightest
moisture from the paste used to ‘adhere’ the repair tissue to the damaged paper tends to provoke
a strong reaction from the paper and ink. With our Malian colleagues we have had to work at
devising a suitable modification of the standard repair techniques that mitigate, as far as
possible, the potential for an unfavorable reaction by the paper and ink.
Thus, as much as Timbuktu has posed often frightening challenges to us in working as
conservators in Timbuktu, I believe the project has succeeded in making better conservators of
us all.
Conclusion
The project in Timbuktu presents us with a valuable opportunity to promote and expand the
currently small profession of heritage conservation in Africa. The Timbuktu Manuscripts
Project is working with five Malians who have been trained in South Africa in book and
document conservation techniques. The training they have received has been supported by our
annual field-work trips to Timbuktu to work with our Malian colleagues in understanding not
only the conservation requirements of the manuscripts at the IHERI-AB, but also the challenges
of conservation work in Timbuktu. We have found this continued interaction to have been one
of the most valuable aspects in keeping the Project responsive to the challenges of conserving
the manuscripts of Timbuktu.
This conservation continues to expand as our Malian colleagues are training not only other
Malians in conservation techniques at other institutions in Timbuktu, but are now travelling
throughout the major centres of Mali presenting workshops in conservation.
Working with our Malian colleagues, Mohammed Lamine Traouré, Isawu Hamada Ag
Moosa, Garba Traouré, Foussyeni Kouyate and Souleymane Samake, has been a very special
aspect of the Timbuktu Manuscripts Project. Fingers crossed that the Timbuktu Manuscripts
Project is only the start of wonderful things for the accelerated growth of the conservation of
Africa’s written heritage, and for the development of the profession across the continent.
44
The
Manuscripts
MANUSCRIPT 1
The original letter was written during the second half of the
19th century, but this copy was made in 1920. It is written in
Sudani script in black ink, with emphases in red.
46
47
MANUSCRIPT 86
48
49
MANUSCRIPT 165
50
51
52
54
56
MANUSCRIPT 290
58
59
MANUSCRIPT 681
60
61
62
63
MANUSCRIPT 776
64
65
MANUSCRIPT 786
66
67
MANUSCRIPT 940
68
69
MANUSCRIPT 1085
70
71
MANUSCRIPT 1224
72
73
MANUSCRIPT 1515
74
75
MANUSCRIPT 1759
78
79
MANUSCRIPT 1998
80
81
MANUSCRIPT 1999
82
83
MANUSCRIPT 2145
84
MANUSCRIPT 2163
86
87
MANUSCRIPT 2309
88
89
MANUSCRIPT 2399
90
91
MANUSCRIPT 2458
92
93
MANUSCRIPT 3666
94
95
MANUSCRIPT 3808
96
MANUSCRIPT 3856
98
99
MANUSCRIPT 3874
100
101
MANUSCRIPT 4011
102
MANUSCRIPT 4056
It is written in Suqi script, but the date and writer are unknown.
104
MANUSCRIPT 4058
106
107
MANUSCRIPT 4142
108
MANUSCRIPT 4527
110
111
MANUSCRIPT 4849
112
113
MANUSCRIPT 5235
114
115
MANUSCRIPT 5292
116
MANUSCRIPT 5520
118
MANUSCRIPT 5537
120
MANUSCRIPT 5800
122
MANUSCRIPT 6230
124
MANUSCRIPT 8855
126
127
MANUSCRIPT 8898
128
129
MANUSCRIPT 13954
130
MANUSCRIPT 16077
132
133
MANUSCRIPT 20529
134
135