Latest / Timbuktu: Africa's Forgotten Center of Knowledge — Fexingo History / Ibn Battuta's Journey to Timbuktu
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Timbuktu as a center of scholarship, but we haven't really stepped back to see it through the eyes of one of the medieval world's greatest travelers: Ibn Battuta. Luna: Oh, the Moroccan who went everywhere, right? Lucas: Exactly. He left Tangier in 1325 and over three decades covered some 75,000 miles—from West Africa to China. But his visit to Timbuktu in 1352 is especially valuable because it's one of the few firsthand accounts we have of the Mali Empire before the city became a scholarly powerhouse. Lucas: By the time Battuta arrived, Timbuktu was already a thriving trading hub, but it wasn't yet the university city it would become under the Songhai. He gives us a snapshot of life in the Sahel under Mansa Suleyman, the brother of Mansa Musa. Luna: Wait—so Mansa Suleyman was ruling then? What was he like? Lucas: Ibn Battuta actually met him. He describes the sultan as a generous but somewhat remote figure. He sat on a raised dais under an umbrella of silk, with a golden scepter in hand. And Battuta noted that the women in the court had a surprising degree of freedom—they weren't veiled and they would approach the sultan directly to speak. Lucas: But Battuta also had some critical observations. He was shocked that the people would prostrate themselves before the sultan, covering their heads with dust. He thought it was excessive. And he was horrified by the custom of a woman praising her husband in public by throwing herself on the ground. Luna: So he was a bit culture-shocked. What about the city itself? What did Timbuktu look like then? Lucas: He doesn't actually describe the buildings in much detail, which is frustrating. He says the houses were made of clay and thatched roofs, but he focuses more on the people and the court. What he does give us is a vivid account of his journey to get there—which is just as revealing. Luna: How did he even get to Timbuktu? That's a long desert crossing. Lucas: He started from Sijilmasa, in present-day Morocco, and joined a caravan heading south. After 25 days they reached the salt mines of Taghaza—which we've mentioned before. Battuta described them as a hellish place: the houses were made of slabs of salt, the water was brackish, and the workers were almost enslaved by the conditions. But the salt was worth its weight in gold. Lucas: From Taghaza, they pushed on through the desert for another ten days, and then they hit a region he called 'the land of the Masufa'—that's the Tuareg. And then they arrived at Walata, which was the first town in the Mali Empire. Walata was a significant trading center, but Battuta was disappointed. He called it 'a miserable place, hot and dusty.' He actually wanted to turn back. Luna: But he didn't. So what changed his mind? Lucas: A local judge convinced him to continue, and he took a ship on the Niger River—which he initially thought was the Nile, by the way. That's a common confusion among medieval geographers. He sailed downstream to Timbuktu, then on to Gao, and then he spent a couple of months in the capital, which at that time was not Timbuktu but a city called Niani, further south. But he never actually got to Niani—he stopped at a place he calls 'Malli' which might have been a provincial capital. Lucas: Now, one of the most fascinating parts of his account is about food. He describes a dish made from millet called 'thurayd'—like a porridge—and another called 'bazin', a kind of dough ball. He was served a lot of dried fish and a sauce made from baobab leaves. He was not a fan. Luna: I can imagine. He was used to the rich cuisines of Cairo and Delhi. Lucas: Exactly. But his most famous complaint is about the hospitality. He writes, 'The people of this country are generous to strangers, but they are also very suspicious.' That tension runs through his whole time there. Lucas: It's interesting because these firsthand accounts are so precious. We don't have many like it from that period. And it's a reminder that history isn't just about grand events—it's about the everyday details, like what people ate, how they dressed, what they thought of each other. Luna: Yeah, and it's amazing that we still have these texts. It makes you think about how fragile history is. Lucas: Absolutely. And you know, we've talked about the efforts to preserve the Timbuktu manuscripts. It's a similar kind of dedication. Here at Fexingo History, we deliberately don't run ads—we want to keep our focus on these stories without interruption. If you appreciate that approach and want to support it, you can do so at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Every little bit helps us keep digging into the archives. Luna: And it's a way to ensure these voices aren't lost. Anyway, back to Battuta—what did he think of the people in the end? Lucas: Overall, he respected them. He praised their justice—he said there was no injustice in the land, that the people were safe from robbers. But he also noted that the sultan's power was not absolute; he had to consult with a council of elders. Lucas: One of the most striking episodes involves a dispute between Battuta and a local qadi, or judge. The qadi accused Battuta of wearing improper clothing—apparently his trousers were too short. Battuta was furious. He writes, 'I replied that my dress was that of a respectable Muslim, but he insisted.' It shows how even a famous traveler could run afoul of local customs. Luna: So he was kind of a fish out of water. But his account is essential for understanding the Mali Empire. Lucas: Exactly. He left West Africa after about eight months, heading back through the desert to Morocco. His Rihla, or travelogue, became a bestseller in the Islamic world. And it remains one of our most vivid windows into the pre-colonial Sahel. Lucas: Now, one detail I love: he mentions that Timbuktu had a large market where women conducted much of the trade. That's consistent with what we know from other sources—women in the Mali Empire had economic independence. And he says that both men and women wore large earrings and nose rings. Luna: That's a fascinating cultural detail. Did he mention anything about literacy or scholarship? Lucas: Not directly in Timbuktu, but he notes that in Walata, the qadi was a respected scholar. And he describes a ceremony where the sultan asked scholars to recite verses from the Quran. So there was an awareness of learning, but it wasn't yet the bookish city we think of later. Lucas: He also tells a story about a slave girl who recited poetry to him. That suggests that education wasn't limited to the elite. Luna: It's amazing how much he packed into a short visit. Do historians trust everything he wrote? Lucas: That's a good question. Some parts are debated. For example, he says that Mansa Suleyman gave him 3,000 mithqals of gold—that's about 13 kilograms. That seems like an enormous amount, and some scholars think he exaggerated for effect. Also, his chronology is sometimes fuzzy. But the overall picture is considered reliable. Lucas: And his account is corroborated by other sources, like the Egyptian historian al-Umari, who wrote about the Mali Empire around the same time. So we can cross-reference. Luna: So in a way, Battuta is like our only foreign correspondent for that era. Lucas: Exactly. Without him, we'd know a lot less about the daily life of the Sahel in the mid-14th century. He's our window into a world that was about to change dramatically with the rise of the Songhai Empire and later the Moroccan invasion. But in 1352, Timbuktu was still a relatively small but prosperous trading town, and Battuta was just passing through. Lucas: He left us with a line that sums up his experience: 'I stayed among these people for about a year, and I saw nothing improper in their conduct. They are Muslims, but they have some customs that are strange to us.' That's the essence of travel, isn't it? Luna: It's a reminder that history is full of perspectives we don't often hear. I'm glad we spent this episode with him. Lucas: Me too. And next time, we'll look at the aftermath—how Timbuktu transformed in the following centuries. For now, let's leave Ibn Battuta at the doorstep of his home in Tangier, still dusty from the road.