What can we say about the traditional Way of Life – and Modes of Thought – of Ethiopians of Medieval Times?
To answer this question one should perhaps probe into Ethiopia’s economic and social, as well as cultural history.
In trying to do so, I would emphasise that we are here considering the historic medieval Ethiopian empire – what some scholars choose to term “Abyssinia” – rather than the entire area of present-day Ethiopia.
It may be convenient to discuss the question along the lines of classical economic theory: looking at land, labour, capital – and all that stuff!
LAND
Land in traditional Ethiopia was not a marketable commodity. It consisted either of rest, or land which was inherited from father to son; or gult, an institution whereby the monarch ceded the produce of the land to an ecclesiastical institution, noble or other favoured individual. In both cases the peasant was obliged to pay various kinds of tax, often in honey or butter, as well as corvée, or labour services, to the State or its functionaries.
Agriculture, in the highlands, was based on a subsistence economy in which the peasants produced for themselves – or for the king, or gult-holders. Grain was for the most part not a marketable commodity and peasants were scarcely engaged in trade.
There was relatively little interest in intensive cultivation or the maximization of agricultural production – the more so as there was generally speaking no shortage of land. The Fetha Nagast, or Law of the Kings, composed in the 13th century, quoted the Book of Leviticus:
“When you reap the corn of your land, you shall not be too attentive in doing so. Thou shall not gather what fell down; after having gathered thy grapes, thou shalt not turn back and gather the remaining, but shall leave it to the poor and strangers”.
Not dissimilar thinking lay behind the prohibition of work on Saturdays and Sundays, as well as the deeply engrained institution of Church Festivals – when agricultural or other work was strictly forbidden. The Jesuit missionary Manoel de Almeida, writing in the 17th century, observed that during any of these frequent holidays: “to cut a sheaf of grass for a horse or mule who has nothing to eat is considered a big sin and in no case will they do it”. Two centuries later the Englishman, Nathaniel Pearce, declared that a peasant during one such festival dared not touch the corn in his field even though he saw it being devoured by locusts. The German scientist Wilhelm Rüppell estimated that work was banned for no less than 180 days per annum – or virtually half the year.
The good Rüppell went on to relate that the typical Ethiopian peasant “did not plough more land than was necessary for the needs of his family”. As a child of Western materialism, he was deeply shocked, and considered this a manifestation of the peasants innate laziness – but we would rather see it as an expression of a traditional Ethiopian values. (Why should you plough, one may ask, if you don’t have to?)
There is some evidence to suggest that Ethiopian peasants of the past faced their life with resignation. The early 16th century Portuguese prelate Francesco Alvare relates that he passed through an area of northern Ethiopia, devastated by locusts, and reports:
“I saw men, women and children, seated horror-struck among these locusts.” I asked them, “Why do you stay there dying, why do you not kill these animals and revenge yourselves for the damage, which their parents did to you…?” The peasants replied: “they did not have the heart to resist the plague which God gave them for their sins”.
LABOUR
Labour (like Land) in traditional Ethiopia, was not a marketable commodity. Work was mainly carried out – by peasants and craftsmen, on a household basis. Peasants thus worked mainly for themselves, or on a corvée basis, for their social superiors – not for the market. The position of craftsmen – blacksmiths, potters and weavers – who constituted a small section of the population – was, however, a little different: They produced largely to meet the needs of other sections of the community, but gave their products in exchange or as a tax or other obligation – rather than for money, which was traditionally unknown.
Domestic work, by contrast, was carried out largely by slaves, whose existence was sanctioned in Leviticus:
“Those whom you take from the people who dwell around you and the aliens who dwell among you, let them, men and women, be your slaves”.
And the offspring of slaves “born in your land” – let them be “for you and your children after you, as an inheritance”.
Though some slaves were purchased, the majority were either inherited by their owners, or captured in war, or on slave-raiding expeditions. Slaves – and slavery, thus had little relationship to the market.
Wage-labour was almost non-existent, as noted by Almeida and other observers.
Palaces and churches, just like peasants’ houses, were built almost entirely on a non-monetary basis:
“If a church is to be built”, wrote Nathaniel Pearce, in Tegray, “every Christian is ready to carry stones, clay, etc. gratis.”
And a century later the British traveller Henry Savage Landor, writing of Shawa, opined:
“If [Menilek] wishes to put up another building, in the Palace for instance, or a church somewhere, he rides out upon his mule, and picks up a stone or piece of wood… The thousands of soldiers who always follow him… imitate his example, so that by evening plenty of building material is at hand”.
TRADE
Trade, in traditional Ethiopia, was, remarkably enough, also to a large extent free from market forces. The Fetha Nagast insisted that buying and selling should take place at a “just”, or fair, price:
“… if you sell at a high price [it declared], you shall be despised before God”.
The legal code likewise declared that usury, or the taking of interest, was “forbidden by Divine Law”.
Markets, and the activities of travelling merchants, were both rigidly controlled. The principal merchants involved in medieval foreign trade were directly responsible to the country’s ruler, or rulers. Markets were likewise controlled by local chiefs – or in some places by the Church.
Money scarcely existed; such trade as existed was based largely on barter, for example the exchange of so much grain for a chicken. Use was also made of so-called “primitive money”, for example the salt, or amole chaw. This however varied considerably in value from place to place, and from season to season. Units of capacity, used for measuring grain, also varied: they were large in time of plenty and small in time of famine.
Another long-established Ethiopian institution which ran contrary to market principles was that of officially sanctioned hospitality. Travellers, be they officers of state or private individuals, were entitled to free hospitality – without any expectation of payment – there being in fact no restaurants in the land. An amusing consequence of this was recalled by Hiob Ludolf, the 17th century founder of Ethiopian studies in Europe. He recall that a group of Ethiopian clergy, who had just arrived in Rome, went a-walking in the city, when they were invited by a Cook into his restaurant: Having dined, we are told, they “consulted together for Phrase and Language to return their thanks” – whereupon the Cook, “not having heard a word of any Money, without any respect for the smoothness of their Language, Gentlemen, said he, who pays?”
The Cook’s alien – and market-oriented, which ran directly counter to Ethiopian tradition, may be further illustrated by Gabre Sellase’s great chronicle of Emperor Menilek II. Describing Etege Taytu’s newly established hotel, the 20th century chronicler finds it necessary to note, as an innovation, that at this hotel customers had – believe it or not – to pay for what one ate!
Alms-giving was likewise an important feature of traditional Ethiopian society. Emperor Zar’a Ya’eqob, in the 15th century, declared that anyone giving charity – even a drop of water – would be rewarded in both Heaven and on Earth. The Fetha Nagast likewise ordered that Christians,”whether rich or poor, must give what they can afford” to those in need – and provide help to the needy, “be they Christians or infidels, good or bad”.
Hospitality, through begging, could be found at virtually any church, where the needy would flock in time of difficulty. The early 16th century Alvares claims to have seen no fewer than 3,000 beggars at the holy city of Aksum.
Aksum and several other places gave everyone, whether Christian or Muslim, the right of asylum; anyone accused of a crime could find safety under Church protection.
Traditional Ethiopia, we may conclude, was deeply imbued with what might now be considered Unworldly Values. Ethiopians, who considered the present world infinitely less important than the next, believed firmly in the Supernatural, and were resigned to the Will of God; they had unswerving faith in miracles; spirit possession, and holy water; they displayed unquestioning belief in the value of prayer – and made extensive use of amulets; Ethiopians sought the intercession of the Saints; valued asceticism and the mortification of the flesh; made innumerable vows; undertook the strictest of fasts, and undertook exhausting pilgrimages.
Such, we may argue, was the economic and social way of life in which the country’s literary and artistic creativity flourished.
[This article is based on a paper which Professor Pankhurst delivered to a Workshop on “Materialities of Medieval Ethiopia” held at the School of Oriental and African Studies on 25 August]
(Originally published in Capital newspaper)
Richard Pankhurst 
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