12 | Drive Slow | Mansa Musa and The Mali Empire
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Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to Black History for Real early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. In the wee hours of a chilly morning in 1324, Mansa Musa trudges through the sand dunes towards the Holy Land. He pulls his cloak tighter around his body. One wouldn't think of the desert as a place to catch a chill, but when the sun is gone, so too is any heat or warmth.

He can see his breath as he exhales through his sun-chapped lips. Their restful three-month stop in Cairo has become a distant memory, and the last thousand miles in a two-year journey are starting to feel like it will never end.

He can't stand the thought of riding camelback or horseback anymore. His servant, Farba, suggested he be carried, but something about being carried to the Holy Land feels like cheating. Musa trudges on, watching the sand disappear under each footstep.

Left, right, left, right. There's a rhythm to walking that keeps him sane. He could consult with the cartographers again and ask how much further. That makes him feel like a child. Besides, the last time he raised the question, their annoyance was palpable. So, focusing on footsteps it is.

Left, right, left, right, sure and true. The light from the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Musa pauses. Something is not right.

Musa waves his hand to halt the procession. The caravan of nearly 60,000 people slowly comes to a halt. The rumbling noise grows. A panic begins to sweep through the travelers. Is it raiders? Should they take defensive positions? They're so far away from home, of course their enemies would use this moment to strike. Of course. I hate this part of the movie. The one where everyone pauses and overthinks everything.

Don't overthink it. Wake up the soldiers, circle the horses, circle the camels, bring up the warriors. Let's get to it. Everyone turns to Mansa Musa. He strains to listen. Musa whispers, "It's drums." He lets out a wild whoop and takes off running. "It's drums!" he cries out. Left, right, left, right. His rhythm is off. His cloak begins to slip from his shoulder, but Musa doesn't care as he races to the top of the sand dune and looks below.

There, just over the hill, sits the holy city of Medina, welcoming weary travelers from all over the world with celebratory drums as they complete their holy pilgrimage.

Thank God they finally made it. I was definitely overhearing about the journey, and I'm just reading a few hundred years after the fact. Word spreads throughout the caravan, and the shift in mood is swift. Hugs and dance break out as some shout, all praise and thanks be to Allah. There are tears and laughter. After years of travel over rough terrain, disease and danger lurking at every turn, pulled it off. They made it.

Mansa Musa has completed his pilgrimage. As the sun rises over the city, Musa sinks to his knees with a mixture of joy and relief. He shuts his eyes and stretches out his hands, feeling the sun's warm embrace overtake him. But a moment later, Musa opens his eyes again. Something's wrong. Something's missing.

The imam said that if he was true to Allah and the tenets of Islam, he would feel relief from the guilt and shame. He's come all this way, spent all this money, so where is the peace he was promised? Has this all been for nothing?

Thank you.

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From Wondery, this is Black History for Real, where we chronicle the stories of movers and shakers of Black history all around the world. The stories will inspire you, educate you, and more often than not, leave you shaking your damn heads. I'm Francesca Ramsey. And I'm Conscious Lee.

This is the finale of our three-part series, "Mansa Musa and the Mali Empire." Mansa Musa was the most powerful leader of the empire and the wealthiest man to ever exist. He and his caravan had finally arrived in Mecca. He's still trying to make his peace with Allah for the accidental death of his mother. Despite the pilgrimage being one of the most notable acts in life, his story doesn't end here, nor does the danger.

But his previous turns of generosity might be the key to his salvation. This is episode three. Drive slow.

Everything Mansa Musa has planned for years has finally come to fruition and the journey is over. Well, for the most part. There are two cities. There's Mecca, which will mark the official end of the journey. But first, Musa stops at the neighboring city of Medina, where the tomb of the Prophet Muhammad is located. You remember we talked about him and the five pillars of Islam, right? Yes, yes. And Musa is shaking them all off. There's Shahada, which is the profession of faith that there's no God but Allah.

Right. And then there's Zakat or alms for the poor. Like when Musha commissioned all those mosques on his journey or when he made it rain in Cairo. The mental image of gold just raining down and like hitting people in the eye, getting black eyes like, ow. It doesn't sound like a fun time. Nah, nah. That sound like assault. Yes, exactly. See, I was thinking more like gold dust. You know what I'm saying? Like...

through the air. You feel me? Like, so, you know, Musa was making it glitter. Oh, I, listen, I love glitter, so I will allow it. So Shahada,

Zakat, and finishing the journey means Mansa Musa has completed his Hajj, or pilgrimage. Which brings us to the fourth pillar of Islam, Salat, or prayers. Mansa Musa's journey truly began with a grieving heart that longed for peace. After his mother's death, Musa's desire to be a devout man of Islam grew immensely. His imam recommended making du'as at Muhammad's tomb, and that is how we ended up in Medina in 1324.

There are already hundreds of people gathered at the site of Muhammad's tomb when Mansa Musa arrives. He begins to wade through the crowd where one of the local clerics stands in front of him. Musa shuffles to the right. The cleric moves with him. Musa shuffles back towards the left and again, the cleric moves and stands in front of him, blocking his way.

Surely the others who had traveled so far heard the stories of the powerful ruler. Maybe they'd heard of his exploits on the battlefield or of his immense wealth. A lie travels the world faster than the truth, so perhaps they were expecting someone taller, wilder, or simply younger. Whatever the rumors, whether Mansa Musa measured up to him or not, what stands before them is a tired, frustrated man.

After such a long journey spanning countries and years, only to be denied access to Muhammad's tomb is enough to make anyone want to snap. But this Musa is different than the young, brash version of himself, who was quick to anger. Musa shows the cleric his hands and meets his gaze, silently pleading for admittance. The imam points to Musa's head. Musa reaches up and touches his crown. Is this the problem? My crown?

He asks as he removes it from his head. The cleric nods and steps aside. Musa gingerly hands down his crown off to one of his men and continues forward to join the men in time for prayers. The imams gesture for the groups to gather, and the focus shifts away from the mysterious ruler from the west. As the call for prayer begins, Mansa Musa and his brotherhood bow deeply and immerse themselves.

For a moment, he's almost giddy with relief. It's been here all along. The culmination of planning and sacrifice has led to this, the peace one can only find in a lot.

Can we just take some time to talk about how the imam's insistence that Musa remove his crown signifies that no one, I mean, no one is special. Thus, everyone is special in the house of God. Kind of like, you know, Kanye says in No Church in the Wild, what's a king to a god? I hear any of Kanye saying that. I mean, a broken, what do they say? A broken clock is right twice a day. You know?

Or how my grandma would say, even the sun shine on dog ass every once in a while.

I mean, that is also true. I don't really understand the reference, but yes, correct. You just go along with it, like, all right, pop out, whatever you say. Yeah, sure. You know, there's also what I relate to it is that relief that you feel when you've been working towards something, especially because there are just moments that it's natural to think, I don't know if this is going to happen. Am I foolish to be trying to do this? And so I can really relate to just the...

physical weight off of your shoulders, which I think kind of relates to taking off that crown. It's like lay down the burden that you were bringing with you to this moment. So now the moment is here. So after prayers in Medina, we're moving on to Mecca? Yes. And it wasn't a brief stop either. Musa and his people spent weeks in the Holy City.

He could afford it. I mean, I don't know how much gold those camels are still carrying, but if the budget was next to a billy, I'd imagine there's still a little gas left in the tank. And as much as the trip was about fellowship and growing closer to Allah, it was also a diplomatic mission. Musa wanted to spread the influence of the Mali Empire as the nation he wanted to trade with. And what's the best way to spread awareness of Mali's economic might?

Yeah, what Future said about the mud commas, he was doing things to the commas. But let's just say, blowing a bag. Blowing a bag. Exactly. That is correct.

Mansa Musa bought up properties all over Mecca for citizens of Mali to stay in when they made their pilgrimages in the future. He purchased books and other educational items for the mosques at home. He even tried to convince poets, artists, and scholars in Mecca to come with him back to Mali. This is probably how he started picking up a few enemies without noticing. Mansa Musa had turned over a new peaceful leaf.

He accomplished everything that he planned for this religious and diplomatic trip and generously given to others along the way. But the one thing you cannot plan for is human nature.

Mansa Musa and his crew approach the great mosque of Mecca. He stares at it in wonder. Rather than resort to his old dominating ways, the peace of Allah has allowed him to appreciate territories outside of Mali. As Musa meditates on the glory of the mosque, his wife, Inari Conti, and her 500 ladies are waiting to enter their side of the mosque for midday prayers. What's a man to do but go have a harmless flirt with his wife?

Inari, as it turns out, has ulterior motives. She comes over and is like, "Well, hello, my king."

And I know Musa was all gassed up too. He went from being stressed out day in, day out, to suddenly being all wrapped in peace. I know his skin was clear and his nostrils was wide open. That's the old folks say where I'm from. Got your nose wide open now. That's probably why he didn't appreciate it when Inari asked when they're going home. What?

Why would we go home? Are you not enjoying your stay in Mecca? Is there something that needs to be done to make you more comfortable? Inari waves off his question because she wants to go home for a different reason. You see, when a reigning mansa travels, someone must be left at home, ruling in his place.

Like how Musa was originally left in charge when his uncle was lost at sea, allegedly. Yes, allegedly. That's the official story on how Musa came to power. So when Musa and Inari went off on pilgrimage, their son Magan was left at home as the Musa in charge. And remember, it took almost two years to get to Mecca. So they were in for a few long years trip back home.

and Inari long to go home for her children. It's understandable. But before Musa and Inari can have that argument, come to some sort of agreement, they're caught off guard and surrounded. Man, what? Not in the mosque. Not in the mosque. One thing I know, man, is that sometimes people be on that foolishness on sight, it don't matter like where they at. You know what I'm saying? You rain, sleet, snow, place a work ship or on the street.

Yeah, it's going down right there in the mosque. And that's bad enough. But also take into consideration that all the pilgrims go through a ritual before entering the holy city of Mecca that includes bathing and swapping out your clothes. If you're a man, your new outfit consists of two white towels. If you're a woman, you wear long robes that cover everything but your face. Everyone wears the same thing to signify that they are all equal before God— kings, queens, servants, and slaves.

And since you have to swap out your clothes, it makes it kinda hard to sneak weapons into the mosque. Yup.

Not that anybody would want to sneak weapons into a mosque, right? Right! Who would want to do that? Anyway, a group of Turkic pilgrims couldn't wait to draw swords on Musa right then and there. They were probably tired of fighting over resources. Remember Musa and his crew were in that city about 60,000 strong? That's the whole population of some cities. So, yeah, everywhere you turn, you are about to run into a malleon. People were sick of it.

It's messed up that this man couldn't just make his prayers and be a regular guy for once. But looking at it from the outside, I'd be willing to bet good money that these guys didn't know Mansa back in the days when he was about that sword action. They probably just thought he was some random rich guy they could rob.

I mean, that's the beauty of changing into those clothes, right? They're like, take the crown off so no one will know you got money. And now, in some ways, it might be saving him, huh?

I keep imagining Musa surrounded by these guys who think they've got the jump on him. And in his head, he's doing like the Beyonce irreplaceable chorus. You must not know by me. You must not know by me. Crazy how historical a Beyonce reference gets. You know what I'm saying? Like, hey, one thing about the Beehive, there is always time and place to make a great Beyonce reference.

There's always a Beyonce song. There is always a Beyonce song for everything. Okay. Anyway, the end to a perfect pilgrimage is nearly spoiled with an all-out brawl in the middle of the holiest mosque in the holiest of cities. All diplomatic gains from the trip are in danger of being lost. Thankfully, your comical mental image of Musa is off the mark. Like, off the mark, off the mark.

The years of diplomatic training and weeks of peaceful fellowship to grow closer to Allah has paid off. Moussa successfully talks the men down and negotiates his exit. Moussa agrees that instead of traveling in one large group, they'll split up as they make their way back to Cairo. That way, Moussa can stick around a little bit longer to ease the chokehold his countrymen had of the city. But that's when tragedy strikes.

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Have you ever been on a good trip, like a really good trip?

And as something goes left right at the end. Anytime it's happened, I've hated it because I feel like, man, it was going so good into this. It like ruins the whole, like so much good stuff could happen in that one moment colors the entire experience. Like when it trips over, you packing up your bags in silence and you just looking like nobody better not say nothing and you better be ready to board this damn plane. Yeah, that's exactly the part of the journey where Musa and his men are at. They're on their way back home to Niani, but

But first, they have this layover in Cairo. The huge travel caravan of 60,000 has been split up, so the vibes are kind of off, but everyone's trying to make it work. Morale is low in the thin-out caravan. Queen Inari prepares for an audience with her husband Mansa Musa, hoping to lift his spirits. She waits patiently for the servant's signal, and finally, the moment arrives.

My queen, your husband's attendants say he is ready to receive you. Is there anything else I can prepare? Inari breathes a sigh of relief from her chair as her glam squad of servants puts the finishing touches on her appearance. She grins. It's nearly over. I spent years separated from my son and it's finally almost over. Life on the road has been so difficult, hasn't it?

Her servants know better than to answer or offer an opinion. Instead, they choose to continue fixing the queen's hair and robes as she carries on unabated. Musa promised a swift return, and Magun will be happy to return his father's throne once we arrive. He's not much younger than Musa was when he was crowned, but they're so different. Still, I'm sure the time he spent learning how to rule will come in handy when it's finally his turn.

Inari trails off as she looks quizzically at her servants. Was that? Nah, no, it couldn't be. Inari stands and prepares to exit the tent. Inari looks between her servants, who are all now studying the ground, afraid to make eye contact with her.

Panic starts to set in as Inari takes off for the entrance of her team. Inari barely makes it to the entrance before soldiers enter. My queen, we are under attack. You must stay here with us where it is safe. Normally, such things wouldn't worry Inari. After all, she is queen of one of the most powerful armies in the world. But Musa's negotiation for a peaceful exit from Mecca fractured the group and scattered them across the desert. Inari peppers the soldiers with questions.

Was it the Turkic pilgrims? Did they break the peace that was brokered? Or is it bandits and marauders who don't know who we are? The soldiers don't have an answer for their theme, only orders to protect her.

The moments grow into hours. The hours feel like days. Inari and her ladies crouch together as the sounds of war surround their team. The thoughts drift to her husband, who travels so far in search of peace, only to be attacked ever since. The encampment is besieged and unable to move until... After hours of huddling beneath the soldiers, the all-clear is sounded. It's over, and their attackers have been successfully driven off.

The luxury travel accommodations Queen Inari had become accustomed to were suddenly a distant memory.

Her husband's promise of swift travel is now less about reuniting with their son and more about survival. They need to make it to Cairo if they want to live long enough to think about making it home to Molly.

Nothing to humble you more in life than having your provisions and your luxury taken away and making you realize you believe and you can get knocked off like everybody else can, regardless of your status. Anari is used to traveling first, Camel. Now she in Coach Camel. What? Yeah.

Now she's patting and turning. It sounds like she ain't got nobody to carry her, not no camelback to ride on. She is patting and turning. No extra padding on that camel hump. You know, she is riding in a caravan without all of the perks that usually kept her safe and well taken care of. So I know she is stressed. Oh, my mama. Thank you.

They can't catch a break. First, it's the 50 cups in the mosque, then straight up kicked out while they're down. Their troubles didn't end there either. One of the craziest flexes of Mansa Musa's pilgrimage is his system of runners on horseback. Their only job was to go out to the cities he controlled or where he had some pull, get fresh fruit and vegetables, and bring them back to the caravan.

Moose was out there with that 14th century Instacart system. And they were using real carts. The real Instacart.

Now, say what you will about his reign during his early years, but it's clear Mansa Musa had vision. But when he agreed to travel in smaller groups, that proved to be a mistake, and it cost him his Instacart. The caravans no longer had the numbers to fend off bandits, and the constant raids took their toll. Starvation and injuries from the battles led to disease. Oh, I see where you're going with this. The final pillar of Islam.

Yes, fasting comes with prayers as you reach out to Allah for strength to sustain you. And man, Mansa Musa was on the ropes. His caravan lost people daily during this period, including a treasured servant.

They told me you were refusing the tea from the Hitler's.

Farba attempts to stand but fails. He sinks back onto his mat. Mansa, you shouldn't have come. Mansa chuckles at Farba's attempt to order him away. A sign of true illness. Farba coughs and tries again. There's not much tea left. I thought that we should save it. For those we still can save.

Farber's words have a sobering effect. Musa nods. Still, I thought I might sit with you for a while. Farber nods as Delirium takes him. He shuffles off his mortal coil under a watchful eye of the great Mansa Musa.

Oh, no, I'm worried. I'm worried about Farba. I feel like we've gotten so close to him in just three episodes. Definitely. It would make me feel like when the fiddler died on, you know what I'm saying, Roots. You know what I'm saying? I feel like, man, I was rocking with you. It wasn't looking good, but still, the remaining few managed to make it back to Cairo. Phew! Finally, some good news. Yeah, but when they arrive, they're in rough shape. What's worse, they've run out of money.

I feel like saying the richest guy to ever exist in history of the world was out of money. Feel misleading, like very misleading. Like I've been broke before and Musa ain't never been broke. So the idea that he broke and he got it gone is like,

Mansa still has an insane net worth, right? That is fair. So I retract my original statement. Let me switch it up. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you. All right. Mansa Musa, the richest guy to ever exist in the history of the world, finds himself suddenly cash poor in a foreign country. He still has reserves of gold and spoils beyond imagination in his kingdom, but that's nearly 1,700 miles away back at home. How's that? I

I mean, I mean, I take your point. But still, he's in a city where just a few months ago, he was making it work.

Sorry, making it glitter. His credit should be good. He should have some type of rapport with them folks. He was just making it glitter on y'all. It was, for sure. But we have to remember what Musa did to the economy by making it glitter, okay? And that hyperinflation really came back to bite him in the hind parts. Mansa Musa is forced to go into debt to local merchants to save himself and his people.

Massimoosa is a sight for sore eyes as he enters the market tent. The merchants all wave him in their direction. They're ready for more of that glitter. They fail to recognize the king's state as deteriorating. His robes are threadbare and his thinness is not by choice. He waves them back, keeps walking towards the merchant at the end of the market. He's his friend, Apu.

When Musa was last in Cairo, he showed favor to Hapu. He showered him with gifts and made large, life-changing purchases in his store. Surely, Hapu would help Musa on his journey back home to Mali. Hapu recognizes his old client at once and leaps to greet him. As-salamu alaykum. He waves other prospective clientele away as he prepares to focus on his old friend. Wa-alaykum-salam, Hapu. I've returned from my Hajj and I'm ready to return home.

Might I sit with you for a moment? Hapu emphatically agrees and joins Musa to hear tales from his journey. By the end, Hapu understands the meaning of the visit. This is not an old acquaintance dropping by for a friendly chat. This is a favor being asked. A big one. Hapu smiles. Mansa Musa, it would be my honor to assist you on your journey home.

I know you've shown kindness to me before, so in turn, I will only charge you the current interest rate and nothing more. Apu lets the declaration hang in the air. It's not an invitation for haggling. Mansa Musa can afford it. So why should Apu assume all the risk and none of the rewards?

This one right here got some unpackaging to do. It makes me feel like even back then, when it's time for you to get your favor back, you know what I'm saying, it come with stipulations. That's what I'm thinking, like, damn. Don't blame him. If I loan you something, I want a record of what happened so I can get my money back. And I think that Hapu is a good businessman. He's just trying to, you know, be safe. Better safe than sorry.

And in Musa's hour of need, people are really trying to get him to turn back into the old Mansa Musa. Before Musa can say anything, let alone agree to the absurd terms, Hapu's face goes slack and he leaps out of his chair. Musa turns to see the source of the commotion. He recognizes the man in the doorway. It's the great Sultan Al-Nasir Muhammad ibn Qala'ul. Musa rises to his feet and this time, both men bow to each other at the same time.

The last time Musa was in town, the Sultan nearly drew swords over making sure Musa bowed to him first. And now here he is, Musa's salvation in his time of need, offering to help the situation. Without hesitation, the Sultan Anasir Muhammad generously paid for Musa's return to Mali. As two men of immense wealth, a price tag doesn't hold much value to them, but respect and honor are priceless.

As he and Manson Musa bid each other a fond farewell, they make promises of allegiance, but realistically, they know they'll never see each other again. The distance is too great and the terrain too harsh. A pilgrimage is something that few attempt more than once in their lifetimes, even men as wealthy as they are. That's what's really real. Take time to acknowledge that growth, man. That guy wanted Musa to bow to him first so badly that he threatened to go to war over it.

I guess those diplomacy lessons for Musa actually paid off, though. And then some. Mansa Musa, the former man of war, learned firsthand how ruling with diplomacy and following the teachings of Allah literally saved his life on a few occasions now.

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At long last, Mansa Musa and the remaining members of his caravan arrive back home in the army. There's much to celebrate aside from the king and queen's safe return. After years on the throne as his father's placeholder, Magun I is relieved of his duties. He rushes to greet his mother and to officially return the throne to his father.

Magun gives his father a report on the kingdom's changes while he was in charge. Musa beams with pride. "The return trip was hard, much harder than we anticipated. But I am happy to know that my empire was in good hands while I was away. And if I was unable to return, you would have thrived." The young prince takes the high praise in stride. "Thank you, father. I have much to learn and I'm happy you arrived safely to teach the lessons in person."

In time, I would like to take my own pilgrimage to Mecca. Mansa Musa brightens at the mention of Mecca. The journey is long, but it was worth it. There's no place like it. I'll make sure you prepare better than I was. I'm not certain the kingdom reserves can hold another 100 camels with gold anytime soon, though. The two laugh as they continue their walk.

Mansa Musa was very generous during his two-year journey to the Holy Land, but when he returned home, it was back to business. He moved to shore up his trade routes by developing key cities like Timbuktu and Gao. He did this by establishing trade ambassadors between different regions, as well as initiating a process to exchange ambassadors between nations like Egypt and Morocco.

His reign was largely considered the height of the Mali Empire, but as the sun rises, it must also set. In 1337, Musa was in his 40s or 50s, craving another pilgrimage. Maybe the peace he experienced during his time in Mecca blurred the memories of the perilous journey home. Or maybe he thought his son was now ready to take over when he was no longer needed. Either way, the pilgrimage was one he didn't expect to return from.

Mansa Musa and his son, Magan, stop to inspect one of the nearly finished mosques Musa has commissioned in Ga'al. Musa stresses the responsibilities of a leader to himself, his people, and to Allah. Magan, now a man himself, has grown tired of being on the business end of constant hypotheticals from his father about how he would lead their empire, and he's beginning to suspect why. Father, are you in poor health?

Musa is so surprised by the question that he nearly stumbles into an unfinished section of the mosque. Magun catches his father and studies him. I didn't mean to startle you, father, but you seem very preoccupied with my capabilities and I was wondering if I should be preparing for bad news. Musa begins to laugh. No, son, no. I won't be leaving you yet. At least not in that way. I'm preparing for you to rule, though. That is true.

I've been thinking about my time as master and what I have left to accomplish and what challenges I have still waiting for me. I've come to realize that there might not be many left, which is why I'm thinking of taking another pilgrimage.

McGunn feels bubbles of excitement. He was very young during his father's first hajj, and he had to stay behind to preserve the line of succession. This time would be different. One of his younger brothers could sit on the throne, and he could travel to the holy city himself. But Musa must let his son down gently. I don't think you should travel with me, son. Your place is here, and mine is in Mecca.

You are a very capable man and you will be a very fine mansa. I think it is time for me to step aside. That peace that I've been striving for much of my life, I found it there in Mecca and I would like to spend my remaining days with that peace. Mugun sits with the revelation quietly. He tries to come up with an argument to convince his father to stay. Ultimately, he realizes there is no argument.

He asks, "What will you do all day in Mecca for the rest of your life? Will you truly make duas all day and all night?" "I won't be alone. I've written to a friend that plans to join me in Mecca. We'll live out our days in peace." Mugun stares at his father, mouth open. Musa answers the question he knows his son is considering. "Yes, of course I have friends." The two men laugh and stroll through the arches of the mosque, being careful to not disturb the builders.

Mansa Musa reigned over Mali for 25 years all in. Tales of his exploit traveled the world over but none so frequently repeated as the stories that come from his pilgrimage to Mecca. No one had ever seen so much gold or experienced such generosity. And Musa certainly goes into the hall of fame when it comes to passion and devotion towards religion.

Mansa Musa's impact cannot be understated. The stories of him and his empire were so prolific that European mapmakers would go out of their way to reference Mali as a marker and name-check Musa any time they could. One of his early depictions is in the Catalan Atlas. That was the go-to map for medieval times. In the middle is a drawing of Mansa Musa sitting on a throne, holding a scepter and a ball made of gold.

Yeah, peep gang. Musa also influenced the architecture of West Africa. You can see it in his mosques that are still standing today with clay bricks and flat roofs, you feel me? They were designed by the architect Al-Sahali, one of the intellectuals that he brought back from Mecca.

Any discussion about Musa's legacy is incomplete without referencing how crucial he was to the spread of Islam throughout the continent of Africa. To this day, many countries have a deep history with Islam due to Musa's devout beliefs and efforts to spread the religion. He didn't just build mosques, but also schools, libraries, universities, and other learning centers. After a 25-year reign, Musa has found the peace he was seeking his whole life.

He no longer needs the crown. He just wants to sit in the peace that Allah has brought him. That's quite the pivot, but everyone's happily ever after looks different. Despite all of Mansa Musa's planning, he never made it to the second pivot. He died before he could put it into motion. And his plans for secession?

Raised in exile while your dad was the emperor. It definitely sounds like there was some beef.

I was starting to wonder what happened to Musa's wife, Nari Conti. But considering there are no records of how her son died or her grandson's life in exile, it probably doesn't bode well for her.

Well, they were avenged when Suleiman's son attempted to secede his dad. Musa's grandson jotted through him a little homecoming party and started a civil war. Made short work for them too. In just nine months, he consolidated power and was sitting on the throne. Just like Musa.

Unfortunately, that's where the similarities end. Mansa Jada was a cruel ruler, and most importantly, he brought the decline of the Mali Empire. The castle Musa once lived in has fallen under his rule, and the kingdom was sacked by outsiders and colonizers. But while the legendary riches were either stolen or squandered, many of the mosques Mansa Musa commissioned still stand to this day, including his last in Gaon.

the one he named after his late mother, Kanku Musa Mosque. Okay, so what do you think about Musa? What stood out to you most about his life? That he was a man trying to figure it out. Like, that's the thing that jumps out to me the most. Yeah, I mean, I will say I was skeptical with his, like, return to religion after he maybe killed his mom, right?

It did seem like he tried to, like, live a more enlightened life and give back and, you know, employ some of that conflict resolution that he had gotten after being, like, a really bad dude in the past. So I don't know. I...

I don't want to get about cookies. I mean, he's not here, so he's not going to hear it anyway. But like he tried. And I think that's pretty good. Yeah, he tried. I say the philosopher in me would be critical of this story is really it ain't told through the eyes of somebody that was conquered by Mansa Musa. Fair. It ain't told through the eyes of somebody being policed or strung on through the eyes of Mansa Musa. So for me, you know, I would be interested to do more research and get more.

accounts or experiences that he had that's not from people that was like you know attuned with him you know I'm saying yeah totally fair if you or someone you know were rained on by Mansa Musa and you suffered injuries you may be entitled to compensation please slide in our DMS and let us know

Meslo-thi-mi-oma. Musa-thi-mi-oma. If you or your ancestors were impacted by Musa-thi-mi-oma, hit this 1-800 number. You might be compensated today. Everyone in my family has this lump right on their forehead from the time that a gold coin hit my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmama. That's that mansa not. Mansa not go away.

This is the final episode in our three-part series, Mansa Musa and the Mali Empire. We use multiple sources when researching our stories, including the International Journal of African Historical Studies, the Smithsonian Magazine, and Mansa Musa's journey to Mecca and its impact on Western Sudan. A note, our scenes contain reenactments and dramatized details for narrative cohesiveness.

Black History for Real is hosted by me, Conscious Lee. And me, Francesca Ramsey. Black History for Real is a production of Wondery and DCP Entertainment. This episode was written by Lauren Williams. Sound design by Greg Schweitzer. The theme song is by Terrace Martin. For DCP Entertainment, the associate producers are Quentin Hill, Brittany Temple, and Chris Colbert. The senior producer is Ryan Woodhull.

Executive Producers for DCP Entertainment are Adele Coleman and DJ Treacy Treese. For Wondery, Lindsay Gomez is the Development Producer. The Production Coordinator is Desi Blaylock. Sophia Martins is our Managing Producer. Our Producer is Matt Gant. Our Senior Story Editor is Phyllis Fletcher. The Executive Producers for Wondery are Marshall Louie, Erin O'Flaherty, and Candice Manriquez-Red. Wondery.

If you like Black History for Real, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.