The Pillars of Hercules
Good morning all, I hope this finds you well. As you know I always begin with the weather, but it's almost too rubbish to mention today- winter seems to be thrashing spring in their annual card game, let's hope spring has some aces up its sleeve. This entry is a bit of history, and a bit of current affairs, which I can't really avoid when looking at this part of the journey.
In Greek mythology, The Pillars of Hercules refers to the mountain peaks in Spain and Morocco that mark the gateway between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. The pillars hold up the world apparently, as for the ancient Greeks, this gateway was the western edge of the known world. Hercules placed these pillars here to ease the burden of Atlas, one of the old gods, the Titans, who had been condemned by the new gods to hold up the sky for eternity. He gave his name to both the Atlas mountains (though his own name perhaps comes from the Berber word for mountain, adrar), and the Atlantic Ocean. We now call this point the Strait of Gibraltar, but in current geopolitical terms, this point is seen as more of barrier than a gateway, and it has shifted from an east/west division to a north/ south one; not between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, but between Europe and North Africa. Considering that the shortest distance across the strait is just nine miles, I'm not sure this makes much sense. Certainly before road and rail, when the fastest way to travel was by sea, a summer voyage from Morocco to France or even Ireland would have been far less daunting than trekking across the Pyrenees or the Sahara.
And yet here we are, this geopolitical division exists now. And with tragic consequences. Many people are desperate to cross this division, in small boats across treacherous rocky waters. Some call them migrants; personally I would rather we called them people. Many have died and many more have been rescued; I can only imagine how terrifying that would be, or how difficult or intolerable life must feel for people to risk their lives, and how strong their hope must be that life will be better on the other side. I can only imagine this because I am privileged to have a maroon passport. I am privileged through my birthplace to be able to do this trip, in a way that I am not sure that a Moroccan artist would be able to do. In contrast to the ancient Greek and Roman view of the Mediterranean sea as the centre of the world, it is now seen as a heavy border. North Africa has been 'othered' by European powers, and colonialism has created a huge imbalance; Europeans cannot be othered in the same way by Morocco, because economically, it relies on tourists. I didn't choose this privilege of course, but I must be sensitive to it. It doesn't sit well that I am crossing this boundary through choice, on a safe ferry, at the same time as others are likely to be in danger, crossing the same boundary in the opposite direction in a small boat. But part of what I want to highlight in this trip is that this division, like all the other arbitrary lines humans have drawn across our planet, has not always existed in the way we see it now. My journey is about the connections.
For much of what we call the Dark Ages and the Middle Ages, much of the Iberian peninsula was ruled by a Moroccan dynasty. The geopolitical division was much further north. The territory was called Al Andalus, and ruled as one, and then several caliphates, but Morocco itself had only recently become Muslim (and by no means all of it) through Arab invasion- it was, as it is today, multicultural, and so was Al Andalus. Although not perfect of course (I doubt, with human nature, that there has ever been a golden age anywhere), Muslims, Jews, Christians and Roma of all faiths lived in relative harmony, and this period is often known as the Convivencia: Living Together. There was an explosion in both the arts and the sciences, which went on to springboard the European Renaissance, even though today this term is more associated with Italy or France than it is with Spain. And perhaps this is partly because history is written by the victors. Eventually the Christian monarchs of North Spain, Galicia and Portugal, conquered and viciously Chritianised the whole of Iberia. I don't use the term viciously lightly; but we all know about the Spanish inquisition. It is often said that pork became such a prime part of the Spanish and Portuguese diets not only for bacon and ham reasons, but because the keeping and eating of pigs was a way of proving that someone was neither Jewish nor Muslim. Living Together was finished.
To most of us ordinary folk, it is possibly inconsequential which rulers exploit us, but I don't believe state control of personal religious beliefs is ever going to lead anywhere nice. And in this case it certainly didn't. The Spanish monarchs became high on their Conquest; wealth, power and victory being quite powerful intoxicants. Soon after, The Canary Islands were invaded, and the Guanche population decimated; something of a template for what happened in the Americas and beyond. Superior weapons technology was somehow equated with cultural and moral superiority, and this perceived superiority was used as an excuse for unspeakable cruelty and relentless exploitation. Surely prioritising weapons and exploitation of other people indicates cultural and moral inferiority if anything? An imperialist mindset, although not new and by no means exclusive to this part of the world, took root all over Western Europe, and I think the whole world is suffering from it still; some parts much more thab others. Al Andalus shows us that amazing things can happen when cultures and people can mix on a more equal footing , as do the cultural explosions in many global cities today. Its history also shows us how fragile our connections to others can be when the powers that be decide we should be divided and separated; how quickly intolerance can strike, and we are right to be worried about that now. I read a wise quote on fascism from the musician Don Letts recently 'They say the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. We haven't been vigilant.' Our media continues to sell us the myths of othering, nationalism and xenophobia. I believe that our newspapers should come with a Mental Health Warning, and our cigarettes should come with a lighter, but maybe that's just me.
Al Andalus lives on in the autonomous community of Andalucia; most of the southern part of Spain. The cuisine and the architecture clearly show the legacy of Al Andalus, and its poetic tradition too, perhaps yet more in the south of Portugal. Flamenco music is native to Andalucia, and also reflects what happens when musicians of different traditions come together; at its best, I find flamenco electrifying. This thread of my journey is just two places; after crossing the border from Portugal, I will be going to:
Friday 26th October: Huelva: Lanatel
Saturday 27th October: Cadiz: Merceria Mentretengo
It's impossible to travel along the coast here, national park and marshes, so the Friday will be a long travelling day, changing buses in Seville. Both Cadiz and Huelva are very very old cities; Huelva appears to have been founded 5,000 years ago, and Cadiz is widely regarded as the oldest continually inhabited city in Europe, for over 3,000 years. I have been there once before, and I must admit I found it beautiful, but a bit creepy. I guess 3,000 years makes for a lot of ghosts. The two cities have been inhabited by people of many different faiths and different origins, and reflect that the Pillars of Hercules, the strait of Gibraltar, whatever we call it is much more of a gateway than a dividing line. So on Sunday 28th, I will take the ferry from Tarifa to Tangier, following along the Atlantic coast, praying that all who cross these waters, including myself, are safe. And that goes for you too. Love and light to you all, Billy xxx
In Greek mythology, The Pillars of Hercules refers to the mountain peaks in Spain and Morocco that mark the gateway between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. The pillars hold up the world apparently, as for the ancient Greeks, this gateway was the western edge of the known world. Hercules placed these pillars here to ease the burden of Atlas, one of the old gods, the Titans, who had been condemned by the new gods to hold up the sky for eternity. He gave his name to both the Atlas mountains (though his own name perhaps comes from the Berber word for mountain, adrar), and the Atlantic Ocean. We now call this point the Strait of Gibraltar, but in current geopolitical terms, this point is seen as more of barrier than a gateway, and it has shifted from an east/west division to a north/ south one; not between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, but between Europe and North Africa. Considering that the shortest distance across the strait is just nine miles, I'm not sure this makes much sense. Certainly before road and rail, when the fastest way to travel was by sea, a summer voyage from Morocco to France or even Ireland would have been far less daunting than trekking across the Pyrenees or the Sahara.
And yet here we are, this geopolitical division exists now. And with tragic consequences. Many people are desperate to cross this division, in small boats across treacherous rocky waters. Some call them migrants; personally I would rather we called them people. Many have died and many more have been rescued; I can only imagine how terrifying that would be, or how difficult or intolerable life must feel for people to risk their lives, and how strong their hope must be that life will be better on the other side. I can only imagine this because I am privileged to have a maroon passport. I am privileged through my birthplace to be able to do this trip, in a way that I am not sure that a Moroccan artist would be able to do. In contrast to the ancient Greek and Roman view of the Mediterranean sea as the centre of the world, it is now seen as a heavy border. North Africa has been 'othered' by European powers, and colonialism has created a huge imbalance; Europeans cannot be othered in the same way by Morocco, because economically, it relies on tourists. I didn't choose this privilege of course, but I must be sensitive to it. It doesn't sit well that I am crossing this boundary through choice, on a safe ferry, at the same time as others are likely to be in danger, crossing the same boundary in the opposite direction in a small boat. But part of what I want to highlight in this trip is that this division, like all the other arbitrary lines humans have drawn across our planet, has not always existed in the way we see it now. My journey is about the connections.
For much of what we call the Dark Ages and the Middle Ages, much of the Iberian peninsula was ruled by a Moroccan dynasty. The geopolitical division was much further north. The territory was called Al Andalus, and ruled as one, and then several caliphates, but Morocco itself had only recently become Muslim (and by no means all of it) through Arab invasion- it was, as it is today, multicultural, and so was Al Andalus. Although not perfect of course (I doubt, with human nature, that there has ever been a golden age anywhere), Muslims, Jews, Christians and Roma of all faiths lived in relative harmony, and this period is often known as the Convivencia: Living Together. There was an explosion in both the arts and the sciences, which went on to springboard the European Renaissance, even though today this term is more associated with Italy or France than it is with Spain. And perhaps this is partly because history is written by the victors. Eventually the Christian monarchs of North Spain, Galicia and Portugal, conquered and viciously Chritianised the whole of Iberia. I don't use the term viciously lightly; but we all know about the Spanish inquisition. It is often said that pork became such a prime part of the Spanish and Portuguese diets not only for bacon and ham reasons, but because the keeping and eating of pigs was a way of proving that someone was neither Jewish nor Muslim. Living Together was finished.
To most of us ordinary folk, it is possibly inconsequential which rulers exploit us, but I don't believe state control of personal religious beliefs is ever going to lead anywhere nice. And in this case it certainly didn't. The Spanish monarchs became high on their Conquest; wealth, power and victory being quite powerful intoxicants. Soon after, The Canary Islands were invaded, and the Guanche population decimated; something of a template for what happened in the Americas and beyond. Superior weapons technology was somehow equated with cultural and moral superiority, and this perceived superiority was used as an excuse for unspeakable cruelty and relentless exploitation. Surely prioritising weapons and exploitation of other people indicates cultural and moral inferiority if anything? An imperialist mindset, although not new and by no means exclusive to this part of the world, took root all over Western Europe, and I think the whole world is suffering from it still; some parts much more thab others. Al Andalus shows us that amazing things can happen when cultures and people can mix on a more equal footing , as do the cultural explosions in many global cities today. Its history also shows us how fragile our connections to others can be when the powers that be decide we should be divided and separated; how quickly intolerance can strike, and we are right to be worried about that now. I read a wise quote on fascism from the musician Don Letts recently 'They say the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. We haven't been vigilant.' Our media continues to sell us the myths of othering, nationalism and xenophobia. I believe that our newspapers should come with a Mental Health Warning, and our cigarettes should come with a lighter, but maybe that's just me.
Al Andalus lives on in the autonomous community of Andalucia; most of the southern part of Spain. The cuisine and the architecture clearly show the legacy of Al Andalus, and its poetic tradition too, perhaps yet more in the south of Portugal. Flamenco music is native to Andalucia, and also reflects what happens when musicians of different traditions come together; at its best, I find flamenco electrifying. This thread of my journey is just two places; after crossing the border from Portugal, I will be going to:
Friday 26th October: Huelva: Lanatel
Saturday 27th October: Cadiz: Merceria Mentretengo
It's impossible to travel along the coast here, national park and marshes, so the Friday will be a long travelling day, changing buses in Seville. Both Cadiz and Huelva are very very old cities; Huelva appears to have been founded 5,000 years ago, and Cadiz is widely regarded as the oldest continually inhabited city in Europe, for over 3,000 years. I have been there once before, and I must admit I found it beautiful, but a bit creepy. I guess 3,000 years makes for a lot of ghosts. The two cities have been inhabited by people of many different faiths and different origins, and reflect that the Pillars of Hercules, the strait of Gibraltar, whatever we call it is much more of a gateway than a dividing line. So on Sunday 28th, I will take the ferry from Tarifa to Tangier, following along the Atlantic coast, praying that all who cross these waters, including myself, are safe. And that goes for you too. Love and light to you all, Billy xxx
PS. Got my letter in Portuguese sorted, thanks Felipe! I also made one change- was warned not to bother with Albufeira, and to go to Tarifa instead, so on Wednesday 24th I'll be in Olhao, and Thursday 25th in Tavira, at Casa Piluxa. And the lovely shop in Cercal does have a name, Loja Margarida.
Olá!
Eu espero que você
esteja bem, e desculpe pelos meus erros em Português.
Eu escrevo porque eu desjoo visitar sua loja durante um 'peregrinação de fio'
que farei pela costa atlântica, de Galway na Irlanda até Agadir em Maroccos. Eu
quero mostrar os ligaçoes culturais históricos que existem pela costa, onde
foram trocados bens, habilidades e amores por muitos séculos, apesar das divisões políticas que nos foram impostas.
A cada
manhã, comprarei um novelo de linha, e a cada tarde, eu vou fazer crochê no
ônibus ou barco até a próxima parada utilizando linha comprada na dia. Farei um
cachecol cada dia, e tambem um pedaço de um cobertor grande. O cobertor vai ligar todos os lugares e
pessoas que eu visito, e contar a história do Fio Atlántico; escriverei em um
diário, e tirarei duas fotos; uma vista do oceano, e a outra da loja onde
comprei linha. Será uma jornada singela, eu vou acampar e usar transportes
públicos o máximo possível, fazendo o possível para comprar artigos locais, em
termos de linhas, comidas e bebidas. Planejo visitá-lo na XXXXXX. Poderia me
confirmar se estará aberto neste data e se me permiteria fotografar sua loja?
Se sim, escreverei sobre sua loja e as coisas que vende nela em meu diário.
Você
pode ler mais sobre meu projeto no meu blog: atlanticthread.blogspot.co.uk
E você
pode ver meu trabalho no instagram: billyblacklondon
Atenciosamente,
Billy
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