This Arab horse is tired of running. Climb the hill through the night to the meeting place. Today I Abdurrahman represents the emirate of Granada, the only Islamic state that last existed in Andalucia. It is heartbreaking to face today who must attend the birthday of the lady of Castilla. After Cordoba and Sevilla subdued, I had no choice but to reverence the invitation of Henry IV, King Castilla who had a celebration to please his daughter Juana. Maghrib State is sealed by the Atlantic Ocean, Turkey Ottoman still busy fighting in the east, Baghdad capital of the Islamic world has been through a hundred years destroyed by the Mongols. The country of Granada lives alone here, in Southern Europe surrounded by Castilla, Aragon, and Navarre plus the Portuguese Empire. The power of an inch made me have to let myself down here. Guadalquivir welcomes the commander to celebrate the party where the light of Islam has ever shone.
“Do not go, my son, this could be a trap.” Said, my mother. But the fate of the emirate of Granada is determined today and I can’t refuse. The king of Portugal could have refused to send a messenger because he was still angry with the failure of an arranged marriage with Princess Isabella, the younger sister of King Castilla. But I can’t refuse this invitation. The fate of Granada is at the end of the horn. The emirate of Sevilla, the City of Cordova has fallen. There is no independent Muslim taifa again in Andalusia except the emirate of Granada. This is a time when self-worth is worthless.
“Welcome, Boabdil. Finally, the emir of Granada will humble himself and keep his promise to be present. “Ferdinand Prince Aragon greeted cheerfully, my arrival.
Coastal Maghrib, North Africa. 1497 AD
“History never sided with those who kept their promises.” The words of King Ferdinand of Aragon repeated all the refugees from Andalucia ringing in my ears, what is my day? The emirate of Granada was subdued. I have to leave the land I love, Andalucia. Just five years ago and the inquisition began.
Kingdom Castilla and Aragon have betrayed the Treaty of Granada. Every Muslim left in the Iberian peninsula only has three choices; go, die, or convert to Catholic. Denying the covenant of religious tolerance, which I have ever tried so hard with. As a last effort, I keep so much blood from spilled Muslims, after the war against the combined armies of Castilla, Aragon and the Portuguese was over. Five years ago, I had left Andalusia. A clause of the covenant I must implement for peace.
Because of the time, now I can see clearly my folly. Yes, my mistake is to love the Iberian peninsula. I miss every tree there, I love the flow of the river and the people who live in the shade. Cities that have a lighted street. Even London in the North is still muddy. I feel like I have it all, but I’m not! And it all weakens me, it is not proper for a desert son to have a weak heart.
I am ashamed of my foolishness, I have embarrassed the ancestors. Indeed I have put the effort of Thariq ibn Ziad to conquer the Iberian Peninsula, seven hundred years ago. And I surrender to fate, if I later, Abdurrahman is remembered as the worst Muslim fighter and leader, all the time. Adios Andalusia that I love and will never see again.
I cried so much, “Abdurrahman from Granada why are you crying like a woman? While you are not fighting like a real man?” Mother scolded me. She was annoyed, remembering how I avoided total war by surrendering one day in 1492. It had the ability to repeat itself, but a man had no power back in time.
And reality perhaps only perception.
People say the past is always in place, and only distorted memories are always carried away where the foot stepped. Time devours everything including memories but unaware, perception wraps, stores in burrows of memories, presents with nostalgic spices. Until the memorable snippet feels sweeter or bitter than it should be. When we try to taste it again, we are disappointed.
Perhaps the reality has indeed changed. Time dispels its toughness to survive. Perhaps we alone have gone far from the past. Too complex and too high. Then miss and scrap the memories from the heap of reality. Then we encounter something we can’t digest anymore.
Perhaps a mistake or more precisely our stupidity, is using perceptions of the present, for an expectation of the past? Or even reversed? Who knows?
Translate From: Selamat Tinggal Andalusia
- HOW TO TURN LEAD INTO GOLD; 3 April 2017;
- DIFFERENT NARCISSUS; 7 April 2017;
- YUKIMURA SANADA, THE LAST GENERAL; 10 April 2017;
- THE LAST WITCH; 10 April 2017;
- ALI AND MALENA, A LOVE STORY; 11 April 2017;
- TOKUGAWA IEYASU, THE ASURA; 19 April 2017;
- BHISHMA’S DEATH; 21 April 2017;
- BEHIND THE SCENES MACHIAVELLI WROTE THE PRINCE; 23 April 2017;
- SPEECH OF THE BIRDS; 25 April 2017;
- THE NOBLE VEIL, ODA NOBUNAGA; 13 May 2017;
- LETTER TO LISA; 9 June 2017;
- GATE WITHOUT GATE, THE MILITARY STRATEGY OF IEYASU TOKUGAWA; 10 JUNE 2017;
- DUSK IN MALACCA; 4 July 2017;
- THE RIVERMAN; 18 July 2017;
- AFTER THE REVOLUTION ENDED; 28 July 2017;
- FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN GOATS AND WOLVES; 29 October 2017;
- A NOTE FROM A LOSER; 10 November 2017;
- TESTAMENT FROM HANG TUAH; 25 November 2017;
- FOR ONE WEEK IN LOVE; 27 November 2017;
- INTERVIEW WITH THE DEVIL; 17 January 2018;