The African Lion

I am circumcised, I am Hassan bin Muhammad Al-Wazin, Yohanna-Leon Dummidichi, with a decorated hand and crowned by the hand of one of the popes, and today I am called "the African": but I am not from Africa nor from Europe nor from the Arab lands. I also know myself as Granada-born, Fassi, and Zayati, but I have not issued from any country or city, nor from any tribe. I am a son of the road, my homeland is the caravan, and my life is the least expected journeys. My forehead has known, in succession, the caresses of silk and the insults of wool, I have gone to princes and the shackles of slaves. My fingers have lifted thousands of veils and colored my lips with the red of shame, thousands of virgins, and my eyes have witnessed the death of cities and the destruction of empires. And you will hear in my mouth Arabic, Turkish, Castilian, Berber, Hebrew, Latin, and Italian dialects, for all languages and all prayers are in my hand, but I do not belong to any of them. I am for God and for the dust, and to them I shall return soon. And after me, my son, you will remain, and you will carry my memory, and you will read my books. And then you will see this scene: your father in the attire of the people of Naples aboard this ship that takes him back to the African coast, busy writing as if he were a merchant preparing his account list at the end of a long sea voyage. Isn’t this almost what I do: what I gained, what I lost, what I say to the Almighty Judge? He lent me forty years, which I spent in travels, so I lived wisdom in Rome, passion in Cairo, sorrow in Fez, and I still live my purity and innocence in Granada.