Granada (9 page)

When he turned away from the Darro and headed up toward the hill, the inclining mountainous pass appeared ominous and insurmountable. His legs were barely able to carry him, and he felt as though he were carrying a thick tree stump not humanly possible to bear. He managed to go up a bit further, stopped, and continued his climb. His legs wobbled and he fell flat on his face. A trickle of blood flowed out of his nose and he injured his knee. But he didn't seem to notice and got up and continued his ascent until he reached the main square of the Albaicin Mosque, now the Church of San Salvador. He sat on a stone bench motionless until sunset. That night, before retiring to his bed, Abu Jaafar said to his wife: "I'm going to die naked and alone, because God has no existence." And he died.

The men washed the tall, naked body, recited the shahada prayer over it before covering it with the burial shroud. They lifted the coffin over their shoulders, recited some more prayers, then took him to his final resting place.

Abu Mansour, Saad, and Naeem went down into the tomb and with outstretched arms took hold of Abu Jaafar's body, slowly and gently. They laid him to rest and then came up and covered his grave with soil.

That afternoon Abu Jaafar's home was swarmed with the neighborhood women who came to join in the mourning ceremonies with the women of the household. They cried together and rivaled one another with stories and anecdotes of the many fine qualities of the deceased. They beseeched God for the patience to endure His decree that given by anyone else would not be so lauded. Saleema was the only one who didn't shed a tear nor utter a word to any of the mourners. The women may say that everyone's time must come, but was this Abu Jaafar's time, or was it the book burning that really killed him?

When the last of the mourners departed and night crept in slowly, when everyone in the house went to sleep, Saleema lay
awake staring into the darkness, thinking. She was just as upset as her grandfather by the burning of the books. Naeem had wept bitterly, and Saad and Hasan both looked pale and frightened, but why was it that it was her grandfather who died, suddenly, and without a warning sign, without a previous illness? She had barely reached four when her own father died, but he had been sick and in pain. She used to ask:

"Why is he moaning?"

"Because he's sick."

"When is he going to get better?"

"When God permits it."

But what God permitted was something else, and they took him to his grave.

"Where has he gone?"

"He died."

"What does 'die' mean?"

"That God chose him to be next to Him in heaven."

She pictured in her mind that God had especially chosen her father to sit right next to Him on a big throne in a heaven more beautiful than all the gardens of Ainadamar, with fountains and water trickling through the towering trees and the brilliantly colorful flowers. She wondered if she should ask God to chose her as well to go to live with Him in that beautiful place or to stay with her grandparents, her mother, and brother. Or should she pray to Him to take all of them together? Then she would think about her playmates and decided it may be best to stay where she was.

One day a little more than a year after her father died, Saleema found a small lizard in the courtyard. She went toward it and when she noticed that it didn't try to escape from her she picked it up by the tail. It was cold and dead. She brought it to her grandmother: "This lizard is dead, right?" Her grandmother shrieked in disgust and yelled at her to throw it away and go and wash her hands. But Saleema just stood there.

"When lizards die, do they go to heaven?"

Her grandmother muttered something under her breath without answering.

But the question lingered in her mind until more questions began to fill her head: what's the use of having lizards, bats, and scorpions? And why did God create these species only to have them die later on?

Months later little Saleema asked her grandfather if scorpions and lizards go to heaven just as people do. Her mother pulled her away and scolded her for bothering him with such silly questions, and told her to go outside and play with her friends. But she got no further than the outside door as she stood thinking how absurd it was for dead scorpions and snakes to go to heaven and frighten and bother people. So she ran back to her grandfather.

"Grandfather, do lizards go to heaven or hell when they die?"

"To hell."

"But what did they do to make them go to hell?"

"Because they cause harm to people, they go to hell."

She left the house and went out into the neighborhood not entirely convinced of what she had just heard. It's strange to think that scorpions go to heaven, but even stranger that they go to hell. Didn't God create them with their harmful sting? They didn't choose to be born that way, so why should God punish them for something they didn't choose?

Saleema went back to thinking about her grandfather, about the blazing fire and the piles of smoldering books at Bibarambla Square. She dozed off but soon awoke in a state of fright. She felt a blaze of fire rush through her body, and as she opened her eyes she realized that her whole body was shivering and her teeth were chattering. They covered her with lots of blankets, and in her feverish trance she felt as though she were about to join her grandfather.

The day Saleema recovered from her fever, Umm Hasan wept in sorrow because she was convinced that the illness had impaired her daughter's reasoning and made her lose her mind when she suddenly leaped out of bed, washed her face, put on her clothes, and announced to her mother that she was going to Ainadamar.

"Yes, I am going to Ainadamar, and if you want to come with me, that's fine. If not, I'll go by myself."

They all tried to talk her out of going, but when they didn't succeed, they went along with her, thinking that if they made her happy then perhaps she would regain her peace of mind and powers to reason. They rented a cart and went to their country house. No sooner had they reached the front door than Saleema jumped off the cart and went immediately down to the vault. She wiped away the dust as best she could and began to rearrange the books. Then she took out the paper, pens, and bottle of ink she brought with her and made a list of all the books and manuscripts, writing down first the name of the author and then the title. She moved to the next line with the second book and wrote until she reached the bottom of the page. She filled ten pages with each page containing seven titles except for the last, which had only six. When she was finished, she sat Hasan down in front of her and dictated the whole list to him.

"What's this for?"

"I want two copies of this list."

6

In the main square in the center of town, where both the old and new casbahs intersect with the roads that lead to Albaicin, a young girl carrying a basket was walking along the street. She had left home to do an errand or perhaps visit an aunt. On her way, either to or from home, God only knows, she walked along minding her own business while the veil on her head failed to conceal her long braids, and her loose fitting gown revealed her slender figure.

She noticed two Castilian men approaching. She lowered her eyes and continued to walk in an attempt to pass them or let them pass her. She glanced up quickly and noticed that they were watching her. She pretended not to notice and quickened her pace. When she looked up again it became clear to her that they were following her. She gasped for air and froze in bewilderment. After several moments she decided to run in the opposite direction. They ran after her until they caught up with her.

"What do you want?"

"What's your name?"

She was unable to run away this time. One of them put his arm around her while the other took hold of her braid and twirled it like rope around his fist. She cried out for help, and the two started to hit her. She yelled with all her might until four young men, hearing her screams, rushed toward her. Though the Castilians saw them they continued to slap and kick the girl so violently that she fell to the ground unconscious.

"That's Velasco de Barrionuevo, the police commissioner."

"And who's the other one?"

"That's Salicio, the cardinal's servant."

The fact that the four youths knew the Castilians made them all the more furious, and soon a brawl erupted, with fists, heads, and feet pounding each other. While two of the youths remained to punish the Castilian assailants, the other two carried the girl to the nearest house, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. Back on the street, one of the youths shouted that the bastard Salicio was getting away. His friend ran after him and they both quickly disappeared. The one who had stayed took such a punch from Barrionuevo that he slipped and lost his balance, allowing the Castilian to escape. He ran after him and just at the moment when he was about to grab hold of him at the entrance of the quarter, someone appeared at a window and threw a rock, hitting Barrionuevo on the head and killing him instantly.

Within hours the news spread like wildfire throughout Albaicin, and with it the pent-up feelings of anger were unleashed. "What shall we do?" "Lock the gates of the quarter." The men spread out in every direction and locked the gates with their massive iron bolts. Behind the gates and walls they set up barricades of wood, iron, and even their own bodies. They blocked off all the gates except the one from which a group of young men left to go to the cardinal's palace near Alhambra. From the Bunoud Gate a throng of people gushed out toward the old casbah and crossed the Darro in a state of extreme agitation. The profound sadness that had weighed heavily on their shoulders, heads, and hearts now carried them. They mounted their dejected spirits like a stallion, with their backs straightened, and their heads held high. Their eyes glimmered and their feet compelled its spurs as this dejection turned stallion broke away, unbridled, and exploded like a canon.

The people of Albaicin stayed awake that night in the security of God's divine light that illuminated their path with a full moon ablaze in the sky. In the houses the women lit the stoves and ovens. They turned the hand mills and kneaded the dough, sprinkling it with drops of water and pinches of salt. They rubbed, rolled, spread
it out, and baked it. They layered the bread into baskets that the children hoisted on the heads and marched in step behind the delicious aromas toward the men standing guard behind the barricades.

The blacksmiths also passed the night working away. They fanned the bellows, hammered, welded, and forged, repairing what time had eroded, resolved to repair it all on that particular night. They brought out their grandfathers' swords, daggers, and knives, and wiping off the dust, they cleaned and polished all that was still usable. They sent the rest to the ironsmiths to repair a broken handle or a warped blade. The entire quarter of Albaicin stayed awake as though it were the night before the first day of Ramadan when all the streets come alive with children running and shouting and the grown-ups animated in conversation, busily working as the candles and lanterns shimmer in the houses and the eyes of the people glisten as the day gives way to the night. That particular night, just before daybreak, the town crier came out and announced that the Albaicin Mosque was open to all those who wished to perform the dawn prayers, and that whosoever wished to participate in leading the community in running its affairs would be wise to make his way there to pray.

They didn't wait for the call to prayers. Everybody appeared, religious scholars, teachers, merchants, craftsmen, old-time soldiers, and hairless young boys. They congregated at the square adjacent to the mosque. They talked amongst themselves, some standing or strolling about, others sitting on the ground. Then the muezzin's voice rang out with a strong resonance, and the multitude entered the mosque. After they formed lines, the imam stood in front and they began their prayers. The imam wasn't one of the usual prayer leaders of the mosque, not one of those senior jurists who packed their bags and fled the city only a few days after the treaty was signed. This time the imam was an elderly carpenter known to only a handful of the congregation. Upon completion of the prayers, he addressed the crowd.

"I was asked to lead the prayers here at Albaicin Mosque after God restored it to us."

Choking with tears, he cleared his throat and continued: "This is a great honor for me, one I wish I truly deserved. O, people of Granada and Albaicin, this is our city, for better or worse. We must resolve today to work together and put our affairs in order, with sound planning and judicious counsel. For failing to do so will lead us to drink from the cup of bitterness and live a life of agony until the day we die. So, what shall it be?"

Several moments of silence passed before the people stood up and formed a tight-knit circle so that each one could see everyone else as well as the imam. They huddled in conversation from the time the dawn prayers finished until the noon prayers began. Back home Umm Hasan was pacing frantically like a caged animal, while Umm Jaafar tried to calm her with no success.

"He went out to perform the dawn prayers and he's late. He usually comes right back, and if he's late its not more than an hour or two. Where could he have gone?"

All sorts of images ran through her head. She supposed that one thing happened and then suddenly thought of something else as being more likely. She wondered if he ran off to join the young men behind the barricades. If this was in fact what happened, then how could she bring him back? Should she go and look for him at the Fahs al-Lawz Gate to the north, or the Qashtar Gate toward the south? She wondered whether to go east to the Wadi al-Ulia Gate or to the Elvira Gate in the west. Had her son lost his head and left from the Bunoud Gate with the others and gone to form a blockade around the cardinal's residence? She sobbed uncontrollably and repeated over and over again that her heart was telling her something bad had happened to him, and that a mother's heart never lies. Neither Umm Jaafar nor Saleema could say anything reassuring to stop her from crying.

When Hasan finally came home, his rosy cheeks, beaming smile, and animated motions mirrored the joy he felt. His mother leaped up and greeted him as though he had just returned from a long journey. He was totally oblivious to her teary face and the emotional excitement of her greeting. In a loud, resonating voice,
he announced, "Today, at the Albaicin Mosque, a government independent of Castile was formed, and we elected forty men to take charge of our affairs and of all of Albaicin."