The earthwork at En Bas Saline is 350 metres across and deliberate

A ridge of earth curves around the settlement at En Bas Saline in a rough C, roughly 350 metres on one axis and 270 on the other, wrapping halfway around an open plaza. Ridges like this were long read as rubbish, the slow build up of a village throwing its waste outward. The pits on the inner face settle the question here. Soil was dug from them and carried to the ridge, which means the shape was intended and the labour was organised. Electromagnetic survey later showed that more of the village lay under the surface than could be seen on it. Village plans of this kind repeat across Hispaniola, so what happened at En Bas Saline was standard practice rather than local eccentricity. Someone decided where the plaza would sit, how far the ring would run, and who would move the dirt. That is planning, and it was going on here three centuries before Columbus.

Gomes Eannes de Azurara wrote a chronicle of the Portuguese voyages down the West African coast. In it he reports that in 1441 sailors, one of them probably Antam Goncalves, carried the first Africans and a quantity of gold dust back to Portugal. Getting there had meant working past Cape Bojador, whose reefs and shoals had turned earlier ships back. Tiffany Lethabo King uses that date to slow down a habit of scholarship. Studies of colonialism reach almost automatically for 1492 and the Caribbean as the moment conquest begins. Sylvia Wynter and Hortense Spillers both put the beginning earlier and elsewhere, on the shore of Guinea, where the category of Blackness was being made before there was an American colony to apply it in. Haiti sits at the far end of a line that starts on a stretch of Senegalese coast fifty years before Columbus sailed.

Portuguese speakers built their sorcery vocabulary out of a Latin root meaning manufactured or artificial. A feitico was a made thing, a charm or a spell, and feiticaria was the practice of making them. The earliest surviving records of both words are legal, in anti sorcery legislation of 1385 and 1403. The root carries two ideas at once. One is doubt over whether the thing is real or only constructed to deceive. The other is seduction, the swaying of another person against their will. In the late middle ages Portuguese speakers made protective charms from broken mirrors and pieces of hangman's rope. Three centuries afterwards, in Bahia, the same word was applied to objects and illnesses that Africans described in entirely different terms, and the Lisbon Inquisition tried people for feiticaria on the strength of it. Colonial officials used feitico and veneno almost interchangeably, which is how an illness became a poisoning.

Italian and Iberian merchants carried sugarcane out to the Atlantic islands during the fifteenth century, planting it on Madeira and in the Canaries. Sugar was not a new business for them. They had been growing and refining it around the Mediterranean for generations, using bound labour on estates in places like Cyprus and Sicily. What the islands changed was the setting. Here was land nobody in Europe held a prior claim on, a climate that suited the cane, and a workforce that could be shipped in from elsewhere. That is the plantation as it would later stand in the Caribbean, complete except for scale. I keep this on a Haitian timeline because of how often Saint-Domingue gets described as something new, an invention of the eighteenth century and a French one. It was a model that had been running for three hundred years by then. What the French did was move it west and make it enormous.