The Muslims finding belonging in southern Spain | Longform
Alora, Spain — The train departs from Malaga station, making its way inland toward the Guadalhorce Valley. Outside the window, pomegranate trees line the tracks, and olive groves shimmer in the breeze. The landscape features whitewashed villages clinging to rocky hillsides, framed by a vast blue sky dotted with small clouds.
An announcement breaks through the rhythmic sound of the train: “The next station is Aljaima.” The station’s name is derived from the Arabic term al-khaima, meaning “the tent,” hinting at the region’s historical linguistic influences.
As the train continues, riders approach Alora, a town characterized by its rocky hill topped with an ancient fortress. Some etymologists believe the name Alora may trace back to the Arabic al-lawra, translating roughly to “the light.”
In the midday heat, the railway station is quiet. A black pick-up truck pulls into the parking area, and Henrietta Szovati, a British-Hungarian Muslim, emerges after driving from the mountains to gather supplies. Dressed in a loose blue shirt and cream trousers, Szovati greets with an embrace. Silver earrings sway near her face, and a sea-blue scarf wraps her hair, resembling a turban, while red-framed spectacles rest on her nose.
She mentions the condition of her truck, dust coating the dashboard and dried grass caught inside. “It is a working vehicle,” she remarks, noting its primary role of transporting goods across farmland.
For the past two years, Szovati and her husband, Ajmal Masroor, a therapist and imam, have been renovating an old farmhouse and its surrounding land into an initiative called the House of Andalus. The project aims to reconnect visitors with southern Spain’s Islamic heritage and the natural landscape.
The couple’s property spans 14 hectares, dotted with nearly 400 olive trees. Szovati expresses her ambition to cultivate a thousand-tree olive grove, showing enthusiasm as she gazes from the truck’s open window.
As they drive deeper into the mountains, Szovati reflects on the summer wildfires that ravaged the area, leaving evidence of their impact on the landscape. The reddish-brown earth transitions to patches of parched scrub and exposed rock, with silvery-grey slate rising sharply along the slopes.
“That’s slate,” she notes, pointing out the geological feature, which takes its name from the nearby town.
The region thrives with agricultural products, such as oranges, figs, avocados, and mangoes. Szovati proudly claims that the local mangoes surpass those from South Asia.
Continuing along the winding road, Szovati indicates a neighboring property. “That’s my neighbor, Juan Garcia.” She frequently acquires lemons, avocados, and honey from him, while he helps her with the olives. She contrasts this sense of community with her experiences in Britain, where she has lived since 2001 and married Masroor the following year.
“I feel like an outsider there. I’m still not ‘one of us’ after more than 20 years,” she shares.
Living as a Muslim in Spain, she finds a certain familiarity that she does not experience elsewhere. Szovati describes Hungary as a place not to return, citing its political climate as “racist and right-wing.” Meanwhile, in Britain, her faith often becomes tied to political discourse surrounding Islam.
In contrast, she feels that residents of Alora recognize her first as Henrietta, rather than through the lens of her religion. “Practicing Islam here is just easier,” she adds.
However, Spain is not exempt from the political currents affecting Europe. The far-right Vox party has centered its agenda around opposition to immigration and the so-called “Islamisation” of Spain, which raises concerns about her sense of belonging.
With a sigh, Szovati admits the challenges of being Muslim in today’s world but emphasizes her focus on building community rather than being preoccupied with external political developments. “Circumstances change, but community, connections, and faith don’t,” she states.
This commitment includes fostering relationships with neighbors of diverse beliefs. Szovati believes that community emerges from daily interactions rather than political rhetoric.
During a visit to Garcia’s home, his 79-year-old mother, Maria, inquires about Szovati’s headscarf. The two women stand together in Maria’s living room, adorned with a portrait of Jesus. Szovati explains that her hijab is a reflection of her faith, a way to connect with God.
A conversation ensues about the Virgin Mary, who similarly covered her hair, leading to Maria’s assertion that being a good person is what truly matters. The discussion flows freely, devoid of any tension or defensiveness regarding their differing beliefs.
These simple interactions create a sense of home for Szovati in Andalusia. However, her connection to the region is also rooted in a rich history that spans over a millennium.
Historian and travel writer Tharik Hussain, author of Muslim Europe, highlights the profound significance of Al-Andalus, the medieval Muslim territory that encompassed parts of modern-day Spain and Portugal. Its heart lay in southern cities like Cordoba, Seville, and Granada, where remnants of a vibrant Islamic heritage continue to influence European civilization.
The loss of Al-Andalus has crafted a longing within the Muslim imagination, echoed in literature from historical figures like al-Maqqari to contemporary poets like Allama Iqbal.
For nearly eight centuries, Muslim dynasties contributed to the Iberian Peninsula’s culture, architecture, and agricultural techniques, leaving an indelible mark on the region even after the fall of Granada in 1492.
Increasingly, Muslims are drawn to Andalusia not just for its climate but to reconnect with this historical narrative, seeking a space where their faith feels integrated rather than segregated.
Yet the transition into modern Andalusia is complex, marked by economic struggles, social divisions, and a nuanced relationship with its past. The question remains: How will the aspirations of a modern Al-Andalus intersect with the realities of daily life in contemporary Spain?
