The Signare of Gorée
by Laura Rahme
1846. In the heat of West Africa, the French navy uncovers the corpses of two French soldiers. Inspector Maurice Leroux arrives at the island of Gorée. It seems death has come to this small colonial outpost off the Senegal coast, home to the prosperous mixed-blood women known as the signares.
The navy suspects that the Bambara people, emboldened by approaching emancipation, may be out for blood. While confronted by the locals’ strange magical beliefs, Maurice remains skeptical. Does malevolence play a part, or are these deaths accidental, brought upon by the brutality of nature in an island known as the white man’s grave?
But when murder strikes, it becomes clear that a killer is stalking Gorée.
Swept by a mystery unlike any he has known, Maurice meets Signare Angélique Aussenac. The proud métis, deserted by her wealthy Bordeaux lover, casts her spell upon Maurice.
But beyond the throbbing sounds of the tam-tams and the glittering signare soirées, danger lurks. Someone is watching. And the deaths go on.
Could the killer be one of the rich Bordeaux merchants? Or are they hiding among the powerful signares?
A historical mystery spanning France and Senegal, THE SIGNARE OF GORÉE explores a world of magic, murder, and passion.
Gorée’s fascinating signares
My novel, The Signare of Gorée, is a historical mystery unfolding in a social structure that no longer exists. While the island of Gorée in Senegal is a UN World Heritage listed site that continues to bear witness to centuries of slavery, the powerful female actors who lived on Gorée for four hundred years have long vanished.
The signares were mixed-blood women whose genesis came as early as 15th century Senegal and whose presence waned during the late 19th century. The signares acquired their title from the Portuguese word, senhora, meaning lady. Shortened local forms of the title signare include Nhara in Portuguese or Niar, as reprised in Wolof, the local language.
At her origin, a signare was a local woman, such as of Wolof or Lebou cultural background, whose caste was more often djam (slave, also warrior) and griot (historian-musician), but also noble, and who in the 15th and 16th century formed a union with a Portuguese man. These men were called the lançados, meaning the ‘expelled’ or the ‘rejected’ in Portuguese. Many were Jewish or new converts to Christianity who had fled the Portuguese Inquisition. Others had problems with the law at home.
In the 16th and 17th century, the Portuguese crown further encouraged Jewish merchants into settling in the Senegambia (actual Senegal and Gambia) and to establish trade counters. The lançados did not bring their European wives with them. They took local women as wives or concubines with the intention of securing trade ties with the local population, for such goods as ivory, animal skins, gold, and slaves.
It is important to underline that during these times, there was no colonisation to speak of. The locals permitted the lançados to settle in places such as Gorée, Joal, Rufisque and Ziguinchor for trade purposes. Following into the footsteps of the Portuguese, similar unions would arise with the arrival of the Dutch, the English, and the French.
From the offsprings of local women and these lançados came the notion of Luso Africans –people of mixed Portuguese and African ancestry who were bilingual and served as intermediaries between the locals and the European traders. A new culture developed such that descendants spoke Portuguese and dressed in European clothing. Their homes, as seen on Gorée, were rectangular Portuguese-style houses with whitewashed walls and verandas. Yet the title of signare was not restricted to mixed-blood women since there existed signares of entirely African background who were so called due to their adoption of the new Luso African culture.
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Well-dressed signare (right) with her servant, 1861 Illustration by Gustave Boulanger (1824-1888) Public Domain image |
The signare title then, denotes a class of its own that bestows a certain degree of prestige. It was also inherited. The children of a signare not only took their European father’s last name but belonged to the signare class. The daughter of a signare was herself a signare whether she formed a union with another European man or not. A further example of the status of this title and of its preservation, is that the signare class preferred to intermarry and rarely chose to marry directly with free Wolofs or Lebous.
During 17th and 18th century Gorée, when European presence was mostly French, the signares of the period had effectively appropriated themselves the past culture, perpetuating an old title and its significance. This was how a French speaking mixed-blood woman whether she was married to another signare descendant, or to a French merchant, retained a title that was Portuguese in origin.
Through their alliance with Europeans, signares gained special consideration. For example, they gained the property of their European partner when this one chose to leave Senegal. In later decades, the signares owned most of the property on the island of Gorée and the rental of these brought them much revenue.
To highlight themselves and their class, these women adopted a distinctive mode of dress that varied over the centuries. What endured was the headdress described as “coiffe en pain de sucre” (coiffe in a sugar bun). To create this lavish headdress the signares wound imported madras fabric above their forehead into a conical shape that towered high. Signares also draped themselves with copious layers of fabric to denote that they did not engage in manual work. They created an ostentatious outward show of appearing idle even if, behind the scenes, they helped manage their European partner’s business, led a household and its domestics, and engaged in extensive commerce with mainland Senegal. In the 19th century, it grew more fashionable for signares to adopt the Parisian fashion through imported clothing. As for their feet, they encased them in fine Moroccan leather slippers in contrast to other local women who wore sandals or were barefoot. But accounts vary and some signares went barefoot.
That the signares owned slaves, some of them in great numbers, is not disputed. Their male servants for hire included the laptots – trusted barge crews who were employed to transport trade goods across Senegal and who, upon colonization in 1854, were recruited to join the French army as tirailleurs around 1857. These laptots differed from the gourmets – free men whose labor as carpenters, masons, and dockworkers was highly sought after by locals and Europeans alike. Slaves of the signares were acquired from the interior of Senegambia. While Britain and France banned the transatlantic trade in the early 19th century, local slave ownership and purchase did endure within Senegal.
The signares also owned female servants. The latter could be set free to marry a European man and become themselves a signare. Such women were treated as familiars and were close to their mistress though often they might serve as props and were ladened with jewelry with the intention of flaunting the signare’s wealth to the public.
As agents of trade, power, and wealth, the signares of Gorée were independent and cunning. But appearances are always deceptive, and as for any woman, no impression can ever be accurate without having met and known each one of them.
This title will be available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
Laura Rahme
Laura Rahme is the author of seven historical novels.
Born in Dakar, Senegal where she spent her early childhood, she moved to Australia at the age of ten.
A graduate of two Honors degrees in Aerospace Engineering and Psychology, she has worked over two decades as an IT professional. Her greatest joy comes from travel, researching history, and penning historical mysteries.
She now lives in France with her screenwriting husband.
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