Granada (5 page)

When his grandmother called him for supper he didn't respond, and when she didn't call him again, he retreated to his bed where he lay wide awake thinking about his mother's odd behavior, and his grandfather's as well. While his mother was sobbing and spanking him and he was yelling at the top of his lungs, Abu Jaafar was inside the house, but he didn't budge at all, as though he hadn't heard a sound. What was going on with his family today? he wondered.

Hasan never found the answer to his question, neither that night nor the many that followed. Even when he turned seven years old and his grandfather took him to a faqeeh for his schooling, the memory of that night remained a mystery to him. He learned that it had been a sad day indeed for all Granadans and that the Castilians took women, children, and men as well from the neighboring villages and sold them as slaves. But he still couldn't understand why his mother had spanked him so harshly, nor could he understand how one man could sell another man, or a child or a woman. Nor did he see anything especially frightening about the Castilian soldiers. They were just like any other men with nothing to distinguish them from the Arabs except for their fairer complexions and their spectacular uniforms, with their waistline jackets, form-fitting trousers, and feathered caps. They looked especially grand when they mounted their horses and trotted in parades with colorful banners, while some men beat drums and others blew bugles, and the streets were as festive as a holiday. So, what was all the sadness that surrounded their entrance into the city?

4

H
ad the people of Granada been bestowed with the gift of predicting the future, would the few years that followed the loss of their country appear as the ultimate extent of degradation and defeat? They lived the misery of each day, made no easier by what was decreed in the new Treaty of Capitulation, which was supposed to guarantee their right to worship and trade, and to live their lives as they saw fit. Nor was this misery at all alleviated by the fact that their new governor, Count Tendilla, ruled with a velvet glove and that the archbishop of Granada, De Talavera, exerted considerable effort, in spite of his advanced years, to make contact with them, even going so far as to learn Arabic and instruct his missionaries to follow suit. But occupation was nonetheless occupation, and the Granadans were burdened with even more worries that hovered over them like the huge silver cross that hung above the towers of Alhambra.

The secret matter of the treaty concluded by Abu Abdallah Muhammad and the king and queen of Castile and Aragon was soon exposed, and the news spread like wildfire far and wide. The young prince turned over the keys of Alhambra and was compensated thirty thousand Castilian pounds, along with the right to maintain in perpetuity ownership of his personal castles and farmlands, as well as all other family possessions. "The scoundrel got eternal rights to his own property and ran," people said.

They lived the misery of each day with the bitter discovery that they had been sold like chattel. They witnessed the flight of entire
families among the nobility and elite, who, in a state of utter chaos and panic, sold everything they owned, and undoubtedly everything was bought. Houses, estates, orchards, precious manuscripts, and swords, heirlooms of their grandfathers and great grandfathers. "Buy, Abu Jaafar, the price is right and buying is profitable." But Abu Jaafar was as stubborn as a mule, and he didn't want to buy nor sell. He was furious at the sight of the departing ships that he viewed as nothing more than floating coffins.

The Granadans watched as their princes converted to Christianity. Saad and Nasr, the sons of Sultan Abu Hasan, now called themselves Duke Fernando de Granada and Duke Juan de Granada. Saad went even one step further by joining the Castilian army as an ordinary conscript. "Rest in peace in your grave, Abu Hasan," thought Abu Jaafar. "Sleep content, and may the breezes of Paradise blow over you. Your offspring have been leased in a rare business. They've certainly risen to the occasion!" The vizier, Yusuf Ibn Kumasha, who negotiated in the name of the nation and who prepared both the secret and public texts of the treaty, crowned his achievements by converting to Christianity and entering a monastery.

Abu Jaafar, now in his seventies, was becoming more taciturn as he shielded from those closest to him the inner turmoil he was suffering. He barely slept, and when he did it was never more than an hour or two. He would sit up and at the first crack of dawn leave the house and pace around the quarter until its doors were opened. At the moment when they did, he would leave.

He walked down to the bank of the Darro and strolled along the river, enjoying the Sabika and the fortresses and castles of Alhambra. He delighted in the many species of trees that sprouted up along the river, from the cypresses, palms, and pines at the foot of the hills across the river, to the fig, olive, pomegranate, walnut, and chestnut trees that graced the road that lead to Albaicin. He passed by and inspected each tree closely and then gazed at the river. When he came to the Grand Mosque, the river appeared in full view and picture-perfect. Then, looking over to the open square, he didn't fail to notice the relentless hustle and bustle of buying and selling
and the familiar voices that called out their wares. He continued his walk and headed east until he reached the Jewish Quarter and the Najd Gate, then retraced his steps back to the marketplace, passing by the Alley of the Druggists, on to the Potters, the Glass Makers, and then to the covered market where he walked through every single passageway, running his fingers through the cottons, wools, and silks, both raw and embroidered, while the merchants were busy measuring and weighing, buying and selling, on the cuff or haggling. When he left the covered market and cut across Zacatin Street, he found himself once again at the Grand Mosque. He went in, performed his ritual ablutions, completed the four prostrations required of the midday prayer, and two extra ones in observance of the Prophets custom, before returning to his shop in the Paper Makers' Quarter.

On another day he would either follow exactly the same route, or he would begin by paying a visit to his son and his parents at the Sahl Ibn Malik Cemetery. He would recite the opening chapter of the Quran, and then cross one end of the quarter to the other to visit the Potters' Cemetery and speak with a friend of his who was buried there. Abu Jaafar always kept a vigilant eye on Granada's buildings, its schools, mosques, hospices, shrines, and public gardens, as though he had been commissioned to draw detailed sketches of them. He would leave the house and come back without talking to a soul, and when it was absolutely necessary to do so, he said only what had to be said.

There wasn't much work in the shop since business became scarce with people emigrating, and those who remained couldn't afford the luxury of even thinking about binding expensive manuscripts. His wife blamed his silence on their financial difficulties and tried to help solve their problems, but every time she raised the subject, he cut her off.

"Sell the house at Ainadamar."

"It belongs to Hasan. I bequeathed it to his father, and now it's his to inherit."

"What about the manuscripts?"

"Those must remain for Hasan and Saleema. It's all I have left to give them."

"You could let Saad and Naeem go."

"They don't deserve that. Besides, shall I throw them out into the streets?"

"There's really no need to send the children to school."

"Saleema loves to learn, and Hasan has to!" Abu Jaafar acted as though the situation was under control and that nothing at all had changed.

"How will we manage, Abu Jaafar?"

"I've got little left of this life, so let me do as I please."

The anxieties that gnawed away at the hearts of the adults and sent many of them to an early grave had little effect on the young men who sprouted to maturity with hearts palpitating in the presence of young girls with kohl-lined eyes and safely concealed firm young breasts that toyed with their steaming imaginations.

Saad and Naeem laughed whenever they reminisced about the time they first met, when Saad would say that Naeem was arrogant for someone who had the size and color of a mouse, while Naeem complained that Abu Jaafar inflicted on him an insufferable, ill-tempered coworker. They were no longer merely colleagues who spent their young lives sharing a room in the same shop where they worked, but intimate friends who knew each other s life story as if it were their own. They were never apart, and the inhabitants of the Paper Makers' Quarter referred to them as "two fannies in one pair of drawers."
¹
They were always seen together in their comings and goings, dressed in the same clothes that they shared, although Saad's clothes always seemed a bit too baggy for Naeem and Naeem's a tad tight for Saad. Saad was a year older than Naeem. He had an olive
complexion and a smooth face with a sullen and stern look. He grew a mustache that camouflaged his big nose and thick lips. His big black eyes that used to arouse attention only a few years ago now appeared less conspicuous as his eyebrows grew thicker. But that was the most distinguished feature of his face, the depth of his black eyes and a sullen, gaunt look that eclipsed his other features. He was of medium height and build with broad shoulders. Naeem was much thinner than his friend although they were practically the same height. He had a complexion that bordered on the yellowish, with finer features and silky, chestnut hair. There was a faint shadow of blond fuzz above his upper lip that he longed to see fully grown, but that hadn't yet. His soft features and his honey-colored eyes that sparkled with a gleam of intelligence added sweetness and elegance to his face.

1. This is the literal translation of an Arabic expression that is the functional equivalent of two peas in a pod."

Naeem still looked like a young boy although he was now fourteen. And besides, he was one who fell in love easily, head over heels, living in a world of perpetual passion. He would see a girl whose beauty captivated him and his heart would beat a mile a minute. His face would beam, and like a madman he would inquire about her name, family, and where she lived. His feet would drag him each day to her neighborhood in the hopes of getting a glimpse of her. He would repeat her name and write it on a small amulet he kept around his neck for two, three, or four weeks, until another object of his affection would take her place in his heart and in his amulet.

Saad laughed and made fun of Naeem, which angered him, and they would end up quarreling practically all day long. But at night, when they closed the door of the shop, Naeem longed to stop his bickering and confront Saad:"You hurt my feelings!"

"Sorry, I was only kidding."

What started out as mutual teasing and ended up in playful banter always got them laughing, as they repeated their verbal jabs like some exotic but familiar ritual that provoked an eruption of restrained speech that gushed forth in strong, loud spurts.

It fell to Saleema to convince her grandfather to let her and her brother go. Abu Jaafar insisted that it was a parade like any other, and that he didn't see any special reason why they should go.

"I beg you, Grandfather, please let us go."

"I don't see why I should," he responded.

But Saleema wouldn't give up and persisted throughout the following day, this time with the help of her grandmother who took the position that she saw no reason at all not to let them go if it meant so much to them and made them so excited. She pulled Abu Jaafar aside and whispered in his ear: "Abu Jaafar, they're just children. They shouldn't be mourning, and they're impatient. Let them go, at least for my sake."

Whenever Saleema got an idea in her head, she would become so obsessed with it that no one individual nor the whole family in unison could sway her from it. If she wanted something, she held her ground and persisted in asking, never flinching or backing down one bit, nor would she let anyone rest in peace until she got what she wanted. Her mother would say of her, "Saleema has the qualities of a gnat, constantly droning, and useless in the house!" Umm Jaafar would laugh and say that Saleema was like the queen of Sheba, who wanted to give orders and be obeyed and not take orders from anyone else. She even nicknamed her "Sheba."Yet despite all the joking, Umm Jaafar was concerned that her granddaughter didn't even know how to fry an egg, and unlike other girls of her age from the neighborhood, she didn't help her mother at all with the housework. Rather, it was her brother, two years her junior and more active and experienced than she, who was sent to the town's public ovens, carried the trays offish and flat loaves of bread, who waited and paid the oven attendants and returned with the cooked food.

Abu Jaafar on the other hand wasn't concerned about any of this in the least. He was all too aware of the fact that the girl's laziness was completely compensated for by something else. Her mind was as sharp as a razor, and she never stopped poking around, observing, studying, and asking questions. She was only nine but had already learned by heart a third of the Quran and could recite it ef
fortlessly and write in a clear and elegant hand. Her teacher marveled at how quickly she understood and readily grasped the complexities of Arabic grammar. As he watched her, it would touch his heart deeply to see how much his granddaughter, who had inherited his own blue eyes, had her father's bright, attentive look, his intelligence and vivaciousness.

These days Saleema was totally absorbed by what was constantly being said about the discovery of a new world.

"Why is it new?" she asked.

"Because it was recently discovered. Before now, we didn't know that it existed."

"But that doesn't make it new, Grandfather. When I first heard the expression I thought that God created it only recently, and I imagined its trees were little trees and that all the creatures in it were tiny newborns." She laughed at her own words, and then said, "How stupid of me!"

In the end Abu Jaafar gave in and allowed Saleema and Hasan to go to the parade but only on condition that Saad and Naeem accompany them. He warned Hasan, "Watch out for your sister. There may be Castilian boys who don't respect girls from good families. Be careful, and make sure you hold her hand. Don't take your eyes off of her for one second."

Two days later, the four of them set out to the town where the parade was to take place.

Although there was a cold breeze, the sky was clear, and the rays of the sun beamed on the river and warmed up the air, making it a pleasant spring morning. They chatted and chuckled with laughter, excited by the journey on which they were embarking and the wonderful parade that they couldn't wait to see. As they approached the parade site, the crowd grew dense and the roads swarmed with people. Even the balconies, window ledges, and rooftops that looked onto both sides of the streets were overflowing with spectators. Everyone seemed highly animated, talking, laughing, calling out to one another, or buying something for the children from the vendors who sold fresh almonds, dried figs, or honey-soaked cakes.
Then, suddenly, the crowd calmed down and the voices lowered, as necks began to stretch and eyes peered up ahead toward the top of the road. They could make out the rolling of the drums and the blowing of the bugles as the rifles and the bells rang out. These sounds magnified as they got closer, while the crowds drew to a near silence. People opened their eyes as wide as they could in the hopes of seeing as much as possible. The flag bearers appeared waving colorful flags, followed by the members of the band dressed in Castilian uniforms with their form-fitting trousers that came to the waist, their embroidered jackets, and caps. A man yelled out in Spanish, "Here he is! Look!" He was pointing to a horseman mounted on a magnificent white stallion trotting gracefully and rhythmically as though taken by its own beauty.