Timeline of Haitian History

Source: Debien, G. (1974). Les Esclaves aux Antilles françaises, XVIIe-XVIIIe siècles. Société d’histoire de la Guadeloupe 71-73.

Here’s my translation from Gabriel Debien on the naming practices under slavery:

The Name

Ordinarily, upon disembarking from the slave ship, a captive already had a name, sometimes even two: the one they had in Africa, which remained alive because their comrades continued to use it, and the one they received from the crew or captain during the voyage, though it’s unknown when. These were names of historical or mythological figures: Priam, Hector, Achilles, Mentor, Jupiter, Cupid, Apollo, Telemachus, Caesar, Nero, etc. Ceres, Venus, Minerva, Phyllis, Psyche. However, it sometimes happened that only the African name was used during the crossing and was well-adopted by the crew.

Slave traders, and later English colonists, had a marked preference for mythological references. French slave traders preferred names like Alerte, Jolicoeur, Léveillé, Sans-souci, Sans-espérance, La Douceur, Mirliton, Giroflée, Fanfaron, Jasmin, La Tulipe, Sans-Quartier, etc. Female captives appear to have been designated at sea by diminutives of saints’ names, even before being baptized: Marion, Nanette, Toinette, Zabeth, Zabelle. Perhaps they originated from countries where Christians lived. In 1718, in the Bissagos Islands (1), the Compagnie du Sénégal purchased Christian captives bearing Christian names (2).

On plantations, after a few days, a nickname could be added to these names or replace them. It would highlight a physical trait: Longs-Bras (Long-Arms), Coquerico, Torticolis (Wryneck), Hautes-Fesses (High-Buttocks), or their origin: Fantin, Mina, Sénégal, Cap-Vert. Or it could be a day of the week or a month: Février (February), Juillet (July), or Mardi (Tuesday), Mercredi (Wednesday), Vendredi (Friday), Samedi (Saturday), which was undoubtedly a simple transposition of an African name. These names would turn into sobriquets, often becoming the definitive, or rather, the official name on lists drawn up by colonists or managers for owners residing in France or for the administration. These nicknames were a thousand times less frequent among women than among men.

Then there was the baptismal name, which in the eyes of the enslaved was a sign of entering a world close to the Creole world. It was generally much desired. In practice, it didn’t always bring a new name. The baptismal name, sometimes used only by the colonist or manager, remained an official name and did not enter into the usage of enslaved people among themselves, as it competed with the name already established when the baptism took place. The new convert was required to know a few prayers and the first commandments. The baptismal name therefore had an artificial character for a certain time.

On the lists drawn up on plantations, the most numerous names are saints’ names. Gradually, they became stable through administrative acts and repetition. On these lists, there are also names from mythology or with a military feel. This indicates that, in the eyes of the colonists, these names were established. Were these enslaved people baptized? Many seem to have been, as these names were borne by Creoles. When and to what extent did Christian names enter the speech of the enslaved?

We have an excellent example to enlighten us: that of the names of the enslaved people at the Noël sugar refinery in Remire near Cayenne in Guiana. It is significant, but from the late 17th century (3). Alongside the saint’s name used by the manager, there is the African name used by the enslaved themselves. This time, these names were known to the manager, but was it always like this? Very few of these names, according to this list, were in common use among both whites and blacks. Therefore, the African name remained underlying the Christian name. It is to be believed that this practice must have been widespread. Africa did not die in a day in the soul and customs of the enslaved. In fact, it never died there.

Towards the end of the 18th century, names taken from the repertoire of Italian comedy or classical theater multiplied: Colombine, Pierrot, Roxane, Pauline, Polidor, Valère, Marquis, Vicomte, or from Oriental tales: Sultane, Validé, or from literary history: Cicéron, Voltaire, Bossuet, Bourdaloue. There was much disorder and great laziness in the distribution of these names. This was undoubtedly due to the absence of owners, changes in managers, and their negligence, as they did not attach great importance to identifying all enslaved people. Thus, on the same plantation, several individuals bore the same name. It was usage that ultimately distinguished them by adding a nickname to their name: Jean Arada was the comrade of Jean Bambara and Jean Cocquart, with Cocquart being the name of a former owner. Elsewhere, Léveillé, Sénégal was the companion of a Léveillé-Pied-de-Bois, etc. This was the case where their origin served to identify the enslaved.

There were never family names among the enslaved. Neither baptismal names nor sobriquets were hereditary, even among free people of color, but in the first generation among Creoles, saints’ names tended to replace all others. Officially, at least, few names recalled Africa: Coachy, Samba, Pinda, Bouangue, Apia, Tiaroé, Loucoumy, etc. But there were still some among the Creoles, new proof that these names remained alive for a long time, resisting Christian names. One should therefore not be surprised if, in the last third of the 18th century and thereafter, the heroes of colonial tales, novels, or anti-slavery plays always bore African names, or names striving to appear so. Every Maroon had an African name, because as soon as there was flight, there was an abandonment of the plantation name, which was an artificial name. Women kept African names for a shorter time than men. Here and there, a few rare Muslim names appeared: Aly, Amar, Mohamed, Soliman. Should we think that those who bore them remained Muslim? No, it seems.