When the kingdom fell, the believers did not. They went up into these
mountains and held on to the shahadah in whatever way they could.
We stop first at the Puente de Tablate, one of the old routes into the
Alpujarra. Standing here it becomes obvious why this landscape mattered: a
narrow crossing, a deep ravine, and behind it valley after valley where a
community could disappear from the reach of a state. This is the door through
which the last Muslims of Spain passed.
We continue to Lanjarón, a town with deep Muslim roots that remained Muslim
until the fall of the Kingdom of Granada and later became an important centre
during the Morisco uprisings, and visit the remains of its castle. The terms
of the surrender of Granada had promised the believers their religion. Those
terms were broken within a decade. Masajid were closed, Arabic was outlawed,
and mass forced conversion followed. Those compelled to accept baptism became
known as the Moriscos, and for over a century they went on praying, fasting,
naming their children and washing their dead as Muslims behind closed doors,
at the risk of their lives. When they finally rose in revolt between 1568 and
1571 it was crushed, and by 1614 they had been expelled from Spain
altogether. Remember them in your du'a today. They held the deen with almost
nothing to hold it with.
We climb deeper into the mountains to Pampaneira, one of the most beautiful
villages of the High Alpujarra, and wander its steep lanes, flat-roofed white
houses and distinctive tinaos — the covered passageways between
buildings whose origins are closely tied to the Muslim and Morisco
communities of the region. The layout of these villages, the terraced fields
and the irrigation channels running through them are all inherited. This is
Andalusi engineering, still working, centuries after the people who designed
it were driven out.
We stop for lunch at Baraka, an alcohol-free restaurant and meeting place
established in 2003 and now part of the diverse community of Órgiva. We meet
the Spanish Muslim owners and hear their own story: how they came to Islam,
what drew them to the Alpujarra, and what it takes to build a halal-oriented
business in these mountains. The symmetry of the day is not an accident. In
the morning we stand where Muslims were forced to hide their faith. In the
afternoon we sit and eat with Muslims openly practising it in the same
valleys.