Finding Home: Muslims Reconnect with History and Community in Southern Spain

The train journey inland from Malaga towards the Guadalhorce Valley in southern Spain is a scenic one, passing by pomegranate trees, palms, cypress, and neat rows of orange saplings, eventually giving way to shimmering olive groves. The names of stations like Aljaima, derived from the Arabic 'al-khaima' (the tent), and Alora, possibly from 'a l-lawra' (the light), hint at the region's rich Islamic past. In Alora, a town crowned by an old fortress, the railway station buzzes quietly in the midday heat. Henrietta Szovati, a British-Hungarian Muslim, arrives in her dusty pick-up truck, a 'working vehicle' accustomed to hauling goods across farmland. She and her husband, Ajmal Masroor, a therapist and imam, are transforming an old farmhouse into the House of Andalus, a project aimed at connecting people with southern Spain's Islamic heritage and the natural world. Their 14 hectares are dotted with nearly 400 olive trees, with plans to expand to a thousand-tree grove. Henrietta speaks of the lingering harshness from recent wildfires, evident in the reddish-brown earth and exposed rock, but also of the flourishing oranges, figs, avocados, and exceptional mangoes. She finds a sense of community in Spain that eluded her in Britain, where she felt like an outsider for over 20 years. Spain, she explains, feels familiar as both a Muslim and a European. Hungary's government is described as 'racist and right-wing,' while Britain's political climate often views Islam through a contentious lens. Here, in the mountains above Alora, she feels her neighbours see her first as 'Henrietta,' a member of the village community. 'Practising Islam here is just easier,' she notes. However, the rise of the far-right Vox party, campaigning against immigration and 'Islamisation,' raises questions about the security of this belonging. Despite these concerns, Henrietta focuses on building community and connections, believing that 'Circumstances change, but community, connections and faith don’t.' She emphasizes forging relationships through everyday encounters, illustrated by a conversation with her neighbour Juan Garcia's mother, Maria. Maria, a Catholic, shows curiosity about Henrietta's headscarf, leading to a discussion about faith and being a good person, devoid of awkwardness. These ordinary encounters, Henrietta says, have made Andalucia feel like home, a feeling deepened by her respect for the region's thousand-year Islamic history. Historian Tharik Hussain, author of 'Muslim Europe,' explains the allure of Al-Andalus, the medieval Muslim-ruled territory of modern-day Spain and Portugal, which holds an 'Atlantis-like aura' in the Muslim imagination. For nearly eight centuries, Muslim dynasties shaped the Iberian Peninsula, leaving behind architectural marvels and enduring legacies in irrigation, scholarship, language, and traditions. While Britons have long sought a 'place in the sun' in Andalucia, Muslims are drawn by the chance to reconnect with a history where Islam was integral to Europe and to build lives where their faith is not a defining difference. The House of Andalus, purchased by Henrietta and Ajmal in 2024 after a seven-year search, was intended as a place to put down roots. They invested heavily, seeking loans from friends and family. Inside, thick stone walls keep rooms cool, adorned with local rugs and references to Andalucia's Islamic past. Bookshelves display a mix of religious texts, histories, novels, and travelogues, including works by Dickens, Hardy, V.S. Naipaul, William Dalrymple, Mark Twain, and Omar Khayyam, alongside a Spanish dictionary and books like 'A Year in Provence' and 'The Road Less Travelled.' A treasured first edition of Washington Irving's writings on the Alhambra, sent by a former guest, also resides there. Resident chef Shama Rahman prepares meals using locally sourced ingredients, served on blue crockery found in a second-hand shop. Henrietta and Ajmal host art and couples' retreats, with plans for a Quranic garden, more fruit trees, and educational programs exploring Islamic heritage. They welcome 'hanifs' – those 'culturally curious and spiritually aligned' – reflecting the spirit of coexistence associated with al-Andalus. The idea for the House of Andalus originated from Henrietta's son's question about Islamic footprints in the landscape, prompting her to make this history more accessible. As historian Hussain notes, these traces offer European Muslims a sense of belonging within a history from which they have often been excluded, though he cautions against viewing al-Andalus as the sole narrative of Muslim Europe. The article then shifts to Alora's annual festival, Dia de las Sopas Perotas, celebrating a traditional dish. Maria Garcia, a lifelong resident, shares the recipe's history, passed down through generations, emphasizing the importance of using three-day-old sourdough bread and a specific preparation method. While Maria attributes the soup to local tradition, the town council suggests a possible connection to the region's Muslim past, a notion supported by food historian Nawal Nasrallah, who points to a 13th-century Andalusi recipe for 'jinaniyya' with similar principles. In Granada, the Mirador de San Nicolas offers a spectacular view of the Alhambra, a testament to Muslim civilization. Nearby, the Mezquita Mayor de Granada, opened in 2003, signifies the revival of Muslim community life. Munira Mendonca, a Californian convert who has lived in Spain for nearly half a century, shares her journey. She learned the traditional Andalusian art of embossed and painted leatherwork (cordoban) and became a master artisan. Arriving in Spain in the late 1970s, she was drawn to a simpler, communal life in the Alpujarras mountains, a region with a history of Morisco resistance and expulsion. Munira and others explored Islam, eventually moving to Granada to establish a community. The construction of the Great Mosque of Granada, a project spanning nearly two decades, involved fundraising, legal battles, and persistence. In the Alpujarras, the town of Orgiva attracts a diverse international community seeking a slower pace of life and affordable living. Medina Tenour Whiteman, an author, singer, and teacher born in Granada, is writing a book on the sacred ecology of Al-Andalus. Her parents, British and American converts, initially moved to Andalucia in the late 1970s but returned to Britain due to financial difficulties. Medina returned in 2005, drawn by the climate, landscape, and the sense of 'sensible' living. She notes that while landmarks like the Alhambra offer a sense of 'ancientness and rootedness,' genuine community is built on mutual care, regardless of religious background. Medina also explores how race impacts perceptions of Muslim identity in her book, 'The Invisible Muslim: Journeys Through Whiteness and Islam.' She emphasizes the importance of learning Spanish to integrate into the wider community, noting that families like her parents helped establish Muslim communities that have now become a lived reality. The article concludes with Henrietta Szovati's morning routine at the House of Andalus, performing Fajr prayer and contemplating the landscape. Despite the demanding work of planting olive trees, preparing for harvests, and managing logistical challenges like solar panel delays and water conservation, she finds humility and meaning in the experience. She hopes the House of Andalus will be a place for people to explore Europe's history, reconnect with nature, and reconsider life's meaning, encouraging a focus on the 'soul' beyond labels and achievements. Henrietta's own journey, reflected in her book 'HeartSmart,' emphasizes questioning accustomed ways of living and focusing on what truly matters, even if the full realization of her vision may extend beyond her lifetime.