Iklan Aesthetics in Niger: Identity and Adornment from Servility to Self-agency

Abstract

Silver pendants, camel saddles, and leather bags are typically featured in museums and books as examples of Tuareg art. These finely crafted objects were made for upper-status families or so-called nobles by artisans belonging to a class referred to as inaden. Such an approach emphasizes the striking objects commissioned by men and women who held the highest status in Tuareg society but ignores the objects produced by and for people in the lower strata, including the descendants of enslaved people. Commonly referred to as iklan, they constitute a diverse, socially and economically marginalized group with a distinct culture that has driven markets while creating new styles of visual representation.Iklan are referred to as buzu in Hausa and bella in the Songhai language in Niger.1 Since the colonial period, ethnographers have translated the term iklan as “slave” or “captive.” Iklan (sg. akli/ekli) can best be described as a socially stratified group constructed from the descendants of outsiders who found their way into Tuareg society either because they were captured or purchased, or because they joined a Tuareg group in search of protection. As we will see, the very name iklan presents problems of translation and identity, especially in relation to the larger Tuareg society in contemporary Niger.This article provides a nuanced look at Tuareg visual culture by concentrating on how formerly enslaved communities have been forging new identities in the twenty-first century (Fig. 1). It considers how iklan have used visual culture to engage in resistance strategies. As asserted by Michel de Certeau, marginalized groups subvert “rituals, representations, and laws imposed upon them” and transform them into something quite different, deflecting the power of the dominant social order (1984: xiii). It is through this lens that we can understand and interpret iklan aesthetics as “tactics” to gain autonomy from hierarchies of power. We examine the choices contemporary iklan communities, as a historically marginalized population, are making to represent their identity, sometimes adopting elite Tuareg aesthetics, often drawing inspiration from newly available goods in the market, or adopting the aesthetics of neighboring people. These various responses to the abolition of slavery and the breaking down of endogamous social categories reveal how the formerly enslaved use visual culture to negotiate their status and resist against the hierarchies that historically marginalized them.We take a comparative approach and concentrate on two Tamasheq-speaking regions of Niger: the Tillabéri region along the Niger-Burkina Faso border and the Tahoua-Agadez region within Niger (Fig. 2). We explore the different tactics used by iklan in aesthetic expression and consider the various institutions and market forces that have contributed to the refiguring of iklan self-identity. A comparative approach allows for a detailed understanding of how postcolonial economic policies, access to markets, nongovernmental organizations, and societal change have impacted the visual culture of iklan in rural Niger, as they solidify their identities in response to established social hierarchies but also forge new ones far removed from the history of enslavement.This article draws from both independent research and collaborative work on both sides of the Niger-Burkina Faso border, where iklan communities have managed to grow and survive despite multifaceted obstacles.2 The activism of various NGOs in these two areas, as well as the tendency for low-status individuals in Tuareg culture to express their sentiments without reserve, meant that iklan actively shared their experiences with us.3 Unfortunately, deteriorating security conditions starting in January 2012 resulted in attacks and kidnappings of Nigerians, other Africans, Europeans, and Americans, making any further trips into the Agadez, Tahoua, and Tillabéri countryside impossible without a military escort. Such attacks have increased in recent years, negatively impacting some of the most socially and economically marginalized people within Niger, especially iklan.While this article concentrates on Tuareg societies in Niger, it is crucial to recognize that enslavement was a historical practice deeply embedded within the Saharan-Sahelian region of northwestern Africa.4 Slavery is by no means unique to Tuareg culture, but the race dynamics that classify elite as light skinned and equate low status with dark skin are unique to Tuareg and Arab society in the region. Racialized categories present in century-old written accounts in Arabic distinguished between sudan (“Blacks”) and bidan (“Whites”), with the former associated with slavery and servitude. French colonial officials used the word bellah as an overarching term to distinguish anyone with dark skin in Tuareg society as enslaved, reinforcing the racialization of Tuareg status categories (Hall 2011b: 63–64).Within Tuareg society itself, there is a well-established hierarchy that includes elite “nobles” (imajeghen—literally “the free ones”), a second class of people known as “vassals” (imrad), and Islamic scholars (known as Kel Essouk or ineslemen), who occupy the top rungs of Tuareg society. The inaden (artisans) make elaborate leather, wooden, and metal objects for these three classes, including tools and weapons as well as jewelry used to mark status, such as silver crosses, bracelets, and anklets for women from noble families. The lower classes, in descending order, include the iderfan (manumitted slaves), ighawalen (manumitted slaves tied to particular low-status crafts), and iklan. However, these social categories must be understood as reference points and labels that demonstrate where social divisions historically existed. This essay emphasizes how individuals and communities are redefining these social boundaries in the twenty-first century.Although typically defined as “slave” or “captive,” the iklan social class historically referred to people with various relationships to noble families. Iklan often served as domestic servants within a noble household, existing in a fictive, patronizing kinship relationship with nobles. Nobles described themselves as “parents” to slaves and referred to the enslaved as their “children” (Rasmussen 1997: 16). Some iklan, however, lived in self-reliant, distinct communities geographically removed from noble families, with noble families requiring a percentage of the harvest or animals raised by iklan. If a drought and/or food shortage occurred, nobles could set up camp and claim any crops and animals raised by iklan, providing Tuareg nobles with a safety net. This demonstrates the wide control nobles had over iklan even if they were not physically present in an area (Baier and Lovejoy 1977: 408).In the late nineteenth century, French colonization of Niger resulted in a policy that outlawed slavery, although the policy was ambiguous at best (de Sardan 1984; Klein 1998; Lovejoy 2000). The scholar of law Thomas Kelley describes the colonial situation in Niger as follows: In the early twentieth century, French colonial policies outlawed “slave raiding, caravan, markets, and ultimately any sale or exchange of slaves, but looked the other way when it came to individuals and families possessing them” (2008: 1010). French officials feared the Tuareg nobles allied with them would rebel if forced to manumit their slaves (Hall 2011a: 220).It is important to recognize that across the Sahel, the decline of slavery varied quite markedly among different Tuareg groups and in different regions. Susan Rasmussen noted that by the mid-twentieth century, many slaves had been absorbed into Kel Ewey noble families after manumission, although they retained the status of jural minors to be cared for by their former enslavers, retaining a marginal and ambiguous social position. Located in the northern Agadez region of Niger in the Aïr Mountains, intermarriage between nobles and descendants of slaves sometimes occurred, indicating that Kel Ewey had become less endogamous and less concerned about class affiliation (Rasmussen 1997: 3). Intermarriage has led to variations in skin tones, complicating colonial era notions that all dark-skinned Tuareg were enslaved.Bruce Hall, however, writes about a very different situation in postindependence Mali. By the mid-twentieth century, iklan began to abandon noble families as new opportunities for wage labor arose, but, as noted by Hall, when servile people migrated to labor for wages or work in petty commerce, noble families often followed and demanded a share of their wages (2011a: 222). The history of slavery also colored postcolonial government policies in Mali. The Malian government stereotyped Tuareg and Arabs as racists and slaveholders. In an attempt to reduce the political and economic power of Tuareg elite, they attempted to liberate definitively iklan and grant them property rights (Hall 2011a: 319). Malian strategies to empower socially subordinate people and eliminate feudal class-based categories led to a perception by noble Tuareg (and Arabs) that they would have no place in the Black-ruled postcolonial nation. Both the Malian government and Tuareg rebels engaged in the racialization of identity, and this contributed to a series of Tuareg rebellions against the national government. Unfortunately, conflict continues to plague northern Mali today (Hall 2011a: 319–23, 2011b: 65–66).In Niger, the postcolonial national government did little to combat slavery after independence in 1960. At independence, the colonial apparatus was handed over to a class of Nigerien leaders, known as les évolués (“the evolved ones”), who comprised a small number of men who attended French schools and adopted the French language and culture. Some were sons of traditional chiefs but many were iklan. Tuareg elite often refused to send their children to French schools, sending instead their servants, who learned the skills that allowed them to land jobs in the colonial administration. This complicated Nigerien postcolonial responses to slavery. Elite Tuareg and others in positions of governmental power often wished to maintain the power hierarchy, as they realized that their wealth and status depended partially on slavery. The descendants of enslaved people tended to downplay their families' former servile status. Neither were motivated to recognize the problem of slavery in Niger and it continued as before (Kelley 2008: 1011).In contemporary rural Niger, we met many iklan who continue to work for noble families, herding animals for them and relying on nobles to provide for them. At the same time, these elderly men and women encourage their children to travel to Niamey or outside of Niger to look for work, not wanting them to be stuck in servile positions. We met others who chose to integrate themselves into non-Tuareg communities, no longer speaking Tamasheq, practicing sedentary agriculture, and even learning new trades, such as pottery. Despite efforts to create a new identity for themselves, their servile status remains. Anthropologist Oliver Gosselein recounted that many Zarma in rural southwestern Niger think of themselves as higher status than their iklan neighbors, no matter how much iklan have integrated themselves into the local community, stating that, “Everybody knows they are Bella, no matter what they call themselves or what language they speak” (2008: 157–58). Iklan generally remain linked to rural livelihoods, but when they do move to urban areas in Niger, like the capital of Niamey, they often take the lowest status jobs that involve high labor and low pay, performing jobs that other ethnic groups do not want to do, such as delivering water to people's homes (Kenough and Youngstedt 2019: 74). Like other economically marginalized people in Niger, including elite Tuareg impacted by droughts, political violence, and other events, iklan men and adolescent boys may travel to coastal cities in West Africa for work when basic needs cannot be met by rural or urban economies in their homeland.As this brief history demonstrates, the current situation for iklan in Niger and across the Sahel remains extraordinarily complex, and in most areas intermarriage is rare. Despite efforts to negotiate a new status for themselves, if a lack of alternative opportunities for survival exist, some iklan have maintained historic social structures, relying on former “masters” to support them. Furthermore, nobles occupying traditional roles of rulership may refuse to give up their positions of power. We met a traditional noble chief in 2009 in Bankilaré, a Tuareg village in southwestern Niger. He felt entitled to be at the top of the social hierarchy, continued to have iklan families work for him without monetary compensation, and co-ruled with an elected iklan mayor (Eriksen 2010: 68). However, such situations are increasing rare, and iklan communities are responding to and redefining historical boundaries that once relegated them to a marginal status. Iklan use visual culture to engage in creative acts of resistance to the hierarchical power structures that once controlled them.Very little visual evidence exists that can tell us about the servile classes in Niger in the early to mid-twentieth century. One exception is a photograph from the Tillabéri region by scholar Edmond Bernus from his first trip to Niger in the 1960s. Bernus photographed a lower-status woman and man working and wearing simple, unadorned dark-colored garments with minimal jewelry (Fig. 3). Bernus identified the man and woman as “captives” who were forced to collect crop seeds after the end of a harvest for a local Tuareg leader (Bernus 1999). The photograph gives us a sense of the clothing and jewelry worn by iklan. These could have been second-hand clothes of the nobles for whom they worked or inexpensive material purchased for them; since cloth was not made by Tuareg themselves, imajeghen had to travel great distances to source new clothes (Bouman 2003: 278). The unidentified woman has no headscarf and wears bracelets made of imported, plastic seed beads sewed on leather that can still be found in the market today. Iklan anklets were made of inexpensive copper alloys, also still sold in markets today, such as Niger's Ayerou market, which are most likely liquidated heirlooms sold by a woman or family facing extreme desperation (Fig. 4).The jewelry worn by the unidentified iklan woman in Figure 3 can be compared to that worn by noble women, which would have been made from silver or silver alloys—prestigious materials. For example, the two women in Figure 5 each wear dark, bluish black indigo-dyed cloth called aleshu, which would have been pounded until it shimmered. As noted by Susan Rasmussen, aleshu was favored by noble women since the mid-twentieth century, and because it was cloth acquired through trade, its expense meant that low-status woman seen in Figure 3 would not have worn it (2006: 142).The photographer of Figure 5, Thomas K. Seligman, was one of the curators of the exhibition Art of Being Tuareg: Saharan Nomads in a Modern World, which was organized by the Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for Visual Arts at Stanford University and the Fowler Museum at UCLA from 2006 to 2007. The exhibition largely featured silver jewelry similar to those worn by the women in Figure 5. Cocurator Kristyne Loughran indicated that “classical” styles of silver jewelry worn by the women in Figure 5 would have been specially commissioned by a noble family and produced by inaden (2006: 169). As noted by Loughran, “Tuareg women would not consider themselves properly dressed if they were not wearing a bracelet, rings, and other pieces of jewelry, which they believe enhance their beauty while symbolizing their age and social position” (2006: 179). Both women are clearly dressed in their finest clothing and jewelry, wearing shiny aleshu, large earrings, and layers of pectoral ornaments, including amulets (tcherot) and various styles of crosses. Their jewelry demonstrates some of the features typical of noble jewelry aesthetics, with intricately incised surface decorations on a flat piece of hammered silver, requiring time-consuming work and using expensive materials.The exhibition and its accompanying catalog provided an inventory of various functional and aesthetic objects while demonstrating the changing patron-client relationship and its impact on visual culture, concentrating on artisans (inaden) and nobles (imajeghen) (Seligman and Loughran 2006). Little has been published about the changing aesthetics of formerly enslaved populations as they entered the twenty-first century. In some areas, formerly enslaved communities wear the same dark cloth and brass anklets as the woman in Figure 6. This woman from the Damergou region in central Niger wore a necklace and hanging hair pendant made from inexpensive plastic beads that recently became available in the market. In some cases, a minimalist aesthetic might continue out of current poverty or historical habits; however, in other cases market forces contribute to the development of completely new trends. Slight adaptations to jewelry, hairstyles, or clothing may eventually turn into larger trends. Just as the inaden now have new freedom in terms of clients and do not work exclusively for nobles, iklan have new freedom in terms of choice and self-agency, as they are no longer bonded by upper-class perceptions.Our comparison of two different regions of Niger highlights two different avenues to self-agency and considers both the historical and contemporary opportunities and boundaries that iklan navigate. This approach demonstrates how communities adapt and change within their regional sociocultural context, responding to NGO interventions and the consumer world of market fashions in order to forge new sociopolitical relationships, both within and outside of Tuareg society.The small town of Tamaya is a relatively new settlement along the main road between the regional centers of Tahoua and Agadez, both with considerable Tuareg populations (Fig. 2). Edmond Bernus notes that since the 1960s, Tuareg spent the dry season in Tamaya, reflecting the fact that this area was part of an established seasonal migration pattern where nomads moved according to pastureland resources (1982: 103). In the past, people settled there for part of the year but, with the creation of a paved road completed in the 1980s, Tamaya developed into a roadside town that drew people from the countryside. A market was developed, allowing for fixed settlements and access to goods, people, and a weekly confluence of diverse people from the surrounding area.During the postcolonial period, iklan developed complex and varied relationships with nobles, and in some situations they continued to hold slave status, especially in the rural areas surrounding Tamaya. This was one of the factors that motivated the Nigerien antislavery NGO called Timidria to work in that area (Tidjani Alou 2000: 176–77). Created in 1991, Timidria pushed the Nigerien government to adopt aggressive antislavery legislation in 2002, with strong penalties for anyone convicted of holding slaves. Timidria has played a major role in drawing international attention to the issue of slavery in Niger and works with such international organizations as the London-based Anti-Slavery International and Oxfam. Its Nigerien members travel to remote areas of Niger, locating enslaved people in order to help them achieve liberation, often taking their enslavers to court.In defining slavery and servile status, Timidria states that, while a person may not be physically held by force, they may occupy a subservient and marginalized mentality. Therefore, some of their most significant work involves what they call consciousness-raising. That the group focuses on Tuareg society is evident in its name Timidria, a Tamasheq word that translates as “fraternity-solidarity” (Galy 2004: 75). As noted by Nigerien scholar Mahaman Tidjani Alou, Timidria valorizes the hard work historically done by the former enslaved and places it in contrast with the “mythical image of the noble warrior as is presented in classical ethnology” as a lazy man who lives off the blood and sweat of others (2000: 181). Timidria encourages the formerly enslaved to denounce nomadic life and settle in villages, building wells and schools and choosing their own local rulers (Tidjani Alou 2000: 182). Timidria also encourages the rejection of clothing and jewelry historically worn by iklan as markers of slave status, especially women's anklets.In an interview with the former president of Timidria, Ilguilas Weila stated that people in Niger recognize anklets worn by iklan women as negative symbols of enslavement. The organization encourages women to remove them as a symbol of liberation.5 Assibit Wanagoda, seen in Figure 6 with her mother, has been featured in the international press extensively, becoming an example of the work done by Timidria (see, for example, Rudebeck 2004). She recounted that she had been enslaved her entire life but after severe mistreatment by the noble Tuareg family who “owned” her, she ran away after hearing about an organization that could help her. She left the nomadic encampment and walked 30km to a Timidria office in the central Nigerien town of Tahoua and met Weila. Members of Timidria traveled with her into the countryside in order to confront her enslaver and, fearful of imprisonment, he released her and the rest of her family.Timidria most famously worked with international antislavery organizations to help Assibit Wanagoda press charges in a Nigerien court against her former enslaver. Although she fled in 2004, her case did not come to court until four years later. The Nigerien court awarded her $3,321.06 in restitution for her fifty years of enslavement. Her enslaver was given a one year suspended sentence and a fine of less than $165.79 (Hepburn and Simon 2013: 245). Her case took years to come to court because in the early 2000s, the government of Niger denied the existence of slavery, going so far to place Timidria's president Ilguilas Weila in prison for several months in 2005, accusing him of fraud since, according to government officials, slavery had been eliminated in Niger (Vasagar 2005).Wanagoda stated that Timidria provided her with financial assistance for the first few months but since then she felt abandoned by them. She also complained about the calluses that resulted from wearing heavy anklets, explaining that “they hurt my ankles because I was always chasing after my master's donkeys … but I did not know any better.”6 Timidria, she explained, taught her that this jewelry represented slavery and oppression and she removed them. In fact, numerous people in the Tahoua Region of Niger recounted that enslaved women were forced to wear such anklets and bracelets to stop them from running away—comparing them to shackles. However, as the collection of anklets seen in Figure 4 demonstrates, none of the anklets would have been impossible for enslaved women to remove. Hence, their current classification as shackles seems exaggerated, especially given the fact that other groups within Niger wear similar anklets without associating them with enslavement.These anklets became the primary symbol that Timidria adopted to evoke the oppression of slavery. In the French version of Galy's Slavery in Niger (2004), which was published by Timidria in 2010, the cover features two anklets as symbols of oppression (Fig. 8). In fact, the impact of Timidria's campaign was so profound in the region near Tahoua that several people who had been manumitted from enslavement or ran away from their oppressors approached Becker to recount their personal stories. In Tamaya, Timidria always played a major role in iklan stories, indicating how this organization prompted people in the region to be hyperaware and active in rejecting their former slave status, as per the NGO's narrative.While it is tempting to view the rejection of heavy anklets as an example of liberation promoted by an antislavery organization, the actual situation is much more complex. Timidria's ultimate goals can be contextualized as part of a nationalist debate concerning the ethnicities that should be identified in the nation-state, with an overarching Tuareg identity preferable to one that recognizes the hierarchies in Tuareg societies. Rather than have noble and slave classes, Timidria advocates that iklan simply redefine themselves and adopt the aesthetics of the noble class. In addition to heavy anklets, iklan women told Becker that headscarves were reserved for women higher on the social hierarchy than them. Iklan did not cover their heads, adorned their braids with cowries and pieces of money, and often went topless. Timidria encouraged iklan women to reject anklets and other forms of dress from the past and encouraged them to rename themselves. lmou Immi, a local member of Timidria, told Becker that the descendants of enslaved people in Tamaya refuse to be called iklan, associating the name with enslavement and a history of marginalization. Rather they call themselves Kel Tamasheq (meaning “people of the Tamasheq language”), rejecting hierarchical classifications. Used by intellectuals, Kel Tamasheq is an identity term that encourages a movement towards an egalitarian and inclusive Tuareg society. Using a term that unifies a group based on language ignores the blatant hierarchical differences that continue to exist within contemporary Tuareg societies, which are based on racialized constructions and unequal access to power and resources. However, the goal is a rejection of the stereotypical image of the light-skinned, noble Tuareg on a camel and inclusive of the darker-skinned, marginalized segments of Tuareg society.Timidria's goal is liberation, but it also introduces itself as a powerful player in framing the discourse on slavery in Niger. Timidria identifies cases of contemporary slavery in Niger, represents and advises former slaves, confronts the Nigerien justice system, and engages with international antislavery organizations. While the NGO is Tuareg-founded, some people question the motivation that drives the group's members, which could include altruistic sympathy, coercive retribution towards nobles, or even taking advantage of a loaded subject to raise money from the international community. Furthermore, Timidria has had limited success in the Nigerien courts, largely due to the influence of noble Tuareg on judges, who often want to retain traditional social hierarchies. At the same time, iklan are also concerned about retaliation; many are not aware of their legal rights, and if they are manumitted, they lack alternative livelihoods and do not trust law enforcement or Timidria to make their situations better.While nongovernmental and governmental structural parameters for understanding and defining slavery continue to develop, Timidria's insistence that women reject previous styles of dress can be seen as patronizing. The impact of Timidira on iklan visual culture in the Tahoua-Agadez region cannot be denied, especially when Tamaya is compared to the northern Tillabéri region of Niger where new iklan aesthetic styles take full advantage of market items (Fig. 2). In the Tillabéri region, iklan women wear anklets and elaborate braided hairstyles, deflecting the power of historically dominant social orders to control them while shaping their own identities.The majority of the formerly enslaved who settled in the Tillabéri region broke ties with noble families in the mid-twentieth century. In one example described by historian Martin Klein, iklan in Menaka, a region of Mali located 100km north of the Niger border, rebelled against their enslavers in 1946, many leaving fields unharvested and fleeing overnight. This revolt was decisive in ending the control of nobles over the enslaved class, who moved into the northern Tillabéri region (Klein 1998: 234; Hall 2011b: 73–74). This heavily forested area was sparsely populated. By using their skills in surviving with scarcity, families herded and cleared land for agricultural fields, establishing communities without any tense competition for natural resources.Another advantage of the area was its proximity to the Niger River and seasonal tributaries. Within the countryside surrounding the riverside market town of Ayerou, near the Niger-Mali border, established riverside communities and scattered hamlets and camps in the surrounding countryside included Songhai, Fulani, Korgo (Hausa fisherman), and river-based Kurtey, who interacted with iklan families. Some iklan saw opportunities in specific artisanal skills and found new market conditions for producing, trading and selling goods, an experience that they were unable to exploit when the profits of their labor were directed toward noble Tuareg families.In the Oudalan area of Burkina Faso, just west of the northern Tillabéri region, the demographics are very similar with a band of majority iklan communities in Burkina Faso, with a greater density of nobles across the border in Mali. Safia, an elderly iklan woman, recounted her experience from servile status to freedom to the anthropologist Annemarie Bouman, underscoring the realities of enslavement:According to Bouman, the contemporary status of iklan should be separated from the historical period of servility when iklan existed in the lowest social stratum of Kel Tamasheq society. Repression, servitude, and dark skin, Bouman argues, should not be the major force that identifies iklan in contemporary Tuareg society.When visiting the small village of Ayngam, near the market village Taratako, the new lifestyles forged by people in a postslavery society became evident to us. Ayngam is a combined community of lower status craf