In order to expand the 1600 – Something campaign to include Africa, I am having to do some digging. First of all, of course, I need an atlas (which I can manage) and the DBR army lists. The African lists are contained in volume three of the lists, published, it would seem, in August 1997. Thus armed, I started to establish some of the players in Africa at the time, and started to encounter problems.
The first issue is that, actually, very little is known about most of Africa in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century. There are hints, and a fair bit of stuff in the journals and accounts of mostly Portuguese travellers. But the Portuguese were not Africans, and they imposed their own views, worldviews, and prejudices on what they saw.
So, we have a problem of Eurocentrism. This is not unexpected, but, as a wargamer, it is a pain. We know a bit about what was happening on the coasts of some parts of Africa, but as to what was going on internally, we have little clue. The heritage from colonial Africa does not help at all, by the way. A lot of names have been changed (or, I suppose, changed back). The old political units of Africa have been roundly destroyed, some as late as the 1880s (or even beyond). And colonialism generally had the view that Africans could not govern themselves, which is patently untrue.
A case in point might be the rather mysterious ‘Zimba’ in list 8, East African Pagan. Just as an aside, the list covers more or less the whole of East Africa, at least away from the coasts. In the notes for the list, the Zimba are described as expanding from the rolling grasslands of the interior to the coastal plain and terrorising the inhabitants by their ferocity and cannibalism. They sound promising as a wargame army, but where, in fact, did they live and, perhaps more usefully, who were they?
The description continues with a brief account of the siege of Mombasa, where the Portuguese fought, and fought off, an expedition from the Ottoman Empire. ‘Hang on, a moment,’ I can hear you cry. ‘I thought we were dealing with East Africa, what is now Kenya. What has that got to do with the Ottomans?’ A good question.
Fortunately, the good old internet (which had hardly got started in 1997, of course) came up with this paper: Global Politics in the 1580s: One Canal, Twenty Thousand Cannibals, and an Ottoman Plot to Rule the World. Cracking title, I am sure you would agree, from Giancarlo Casale, in the Journal of World History, volume 18, number 3, 2007. But you might be forgiven for wondering what on earth was going on.
Well, the paper is available for free on Academia.edu; you are quite free to read it and decide for yourself. My own takeaways from it are, firstly, that the influence of the Ottoman Empire in the Indian Ocean was a lot more extensive than I thought. Apparently, Ottoman troops fought in the Far East (in Aceh, on the northern end of Sumatra, so far as I can tell). There was also a great deal of rivalry between the Mughals and Ottomans, particularly over the route to Mecca, the protection of the Holy Cities and the distribution of alms there. The Ottomans were also engaged in a protracted war with the Persians, and extricating themselves from the war with Spain, although not with Portugal. As a note to that last comment, of course, in 1579 Phillip II of Spain took over Portugal and its Empire. The Ottomans wanted a free hand in the Indian Ocean, so did not want to promise not to attack the Portuguese.
If you are still with me, some Ottoman officials in Yemen and Egypt sort of conspired to try to divert resources to the Indian Ocean, including suggesting building a canal from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean Sea. Part of this was launching a raid on Mombasa in 1588 (an interesting date for Armadas, of course). The Portuguese responded by sending an expedition from Goa. The Ottoman force was welcomed by the Mombasans, and set up a defensive position with plenty of artillery and the galliots defending the harbour. This could be unbeatable, even given the numerical disparity.
However, the Ottoman position was undermined by the appearance of twenty thousand Zimba cannibals on the shore, which split the Ottoman forces. The Portuguese, when they arrived, overwhelmed the seaward-facing fortifications, while the Ottomans fought off the Zimba. The Ottomans surrendered to the Portuguese, and the Zimba crossed, terrifying the inhabitants and causing mass panic as the Portuguese only managed to save a few. The rest, including women and children, seem to have been butchered.
Casale interrogates the accounts of the action which we have, and dismisses quite a few aspects, including the idea that it was fanciful or made up, that the Zimba were really cannibals, and noting that the Portuguese chronicler might well have inflated the account to show that they, too, fought the infidel. But the point of interest here is to ask who, exactly, were these twenty-thousand Zimba?
Unfortunately, we cannot tell, and Casale does not probe too deeply. Were they a mercenary army brought from the Zambezi? Or a migrating band of Maravi warriors moving north, having been disrupted by the coastal Muslims? Or were they locals unhappy at the idea of an Ottoman takeover? Unfortunately, history does not tell us.
On the other hand, the decisive intervention in the whole affair was by a bunch of otherwise unknown Africans. The Zimba, whoever they were, determined the outcome of the confrontation of the two technologically advanced empires. How this came about is unknown; it could have been entirely fortuitous, or they could have been allied to the Portuguese, or influenced by them in some way. The point is that Africans were perfectly well able to act on their own behalf, under their own leaders and polities, however obscure to contemporary Europeans and historians those leaders and polities might be.



