NYU Black Renaissance Noire Summer/Fall 2010 | Page 9

l
The Rock of Gibraltar.

When exactly did the laud give birth to the Spanish guitar?
How dear and old is that Arabic lament, which echoes in the
Caribbean Bolero, the song of sadness, the Portuguese Fado,
the Blues — all relatives, cousins in our chain of connections.
The bus continued south, towards Algeciras. Entering the
town, the sea opened up like a blue mirror stretched towards
the horizon, reminding me of the Caribbean Sea, though not
quite as turquoise.
Posted on corners with black hats that look like casseroles,
the Spanish police was looking out for illegal entrees. From
Algeciras ferries also leave for Ceuta and Millilla, two Spanish
cities within the territory of Morocco. In this port city, Arabic
speaking Moroccans live side by side with Spaniards and most
people in each group know the other’s language. Perhaps the
Andalusian cities of Granada and Cordoba felt like this in the
Middle Ages. Churches down the street from mosques, the
two languages criss-crossing each other, cuisine from as far
away as Damascus integrating with local sauces. The Spanish
language breastfed from Arabic during the Islamic period.
Social and cultural traits mixed up until nobody could tell or
separate what belongs to whom. It was around 1520, a generation
after 1492, when Grenada, the last Muslim stronghold in
Andalusia, fell back into Christian hands. Guess who was in
the audience at the ceremony when the Caliph turned over
the deeds of the city to Catholic King Ferdinand and Queen
Isabel? Christopher Columbus. He had been after the King
and Queen for assistance — ships, men, provisions — so he
could go on with his quest into the almost known unknown.
Christianity, as the Spanish practiced it, was in?uenced by
the way North Africans practiced Islam. ‘If God wills it’, a
phrase so alive in the Caribbean, links directly to inshallah, if
Allah wills it, si Dios quire. A myriad details of worship fused
during the period of close proximity between Christendom
and Islam.

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The ever-evolving cultural exchange is evident in the music of
groups like Radio Tarifa, a Spain-based musical band that
deliciously blends traditional North African styles with
Caribbean rhythms and Flamenco.

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From the bus window I beheld Algeciras, dancing into the
water, wet from fog that slowly lifted. We passed the old
district of San Isidro where houses uphold a long-gone epoch
and look like rows of white teeth. I got o? the bus and
made my way towards the docks. At the terminal for the ferries,
I ran into tourists, their eyes full of adventurous gleam.
They kept looking at their wrist watches because the ferry was
late. The kind man from the Hotel Europa had warned
me not to expect the ships to leave on time. They leave when
they leave and that is whenever they are full or ready to go.
A thin-lipped Spanish woman who turned out to be a
representative of the ferry company greeted the tourists with
a serious announce