The Eagle
&
The
Dove
Introduction
Deep in the heart of Spain there is a valley. It is a place of legends, where songs and tales have passed through the years and were they still remain a part of the people and their culture. The valley's name is 'La Guadalquivir'. The first thing today's traveller will notice are the olive trees that blanket the landscape. Mile upon mile they stretch, separated only by dirt tracks that criss-cross between fields. Amidst this sea of trees lie small villages, huddled on the side of mountains or nestling in vales. Little rocky white eruptions dimpling the deep olive green | |
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that otherwise encompasses
the whole of the valley. These Villages have remained
unchanged over the past five hundred years, seem
to uniformly consist of whitewashed stone dwellings, accompanied by a church,
communal centre and the local co-operative. While olives may be the blood of the Guadalquivir, the co-operative is the heart that pumps it through the valley. An enduring economic lifeline to all the communities of the valley that has survived countless generations. In truth, nobody knows when olives were first cultivated in this area. Some farmers say the Moors first introduced them. It may have been the Romans. Others will tell you it was the Greeks who first brought them on their trading ships to the coast, where they then found their way inland. But olives are not the only thing to be found in this valley. There are stories and legends in plenty. For you see this valley also has another history, one that is not forgotten, but which few care to talk about. When our fore-fathers first strayed into the valley they beheld a land of plenty. There were no olive trees then. The land was rich in woodland, and from the great river that has given the valley its name, streams flowed into the soil bringing with it life. They saw this wondrous place and coveted it, but in their need to survive they changed it. Over the generations, they began to lose their bond with nature. They gradually reshaped what they came to believe was theirs, until it no longer resembled what nature had taken so long to cultivate.As the power and influence of men grew, so the land around them shrank. Trees disappeared in flames or were hacked away to feed their growing lust for land. The streams that brought life to the valley were dammed to feed small plots of earth they now called their own. Animals and other wildlife, which had lived in the valley longer than man had walked the Earth just disappeared. Some became domesticated. Many more were hunted into extinction. Some were just driven away and then like the morning stars, they simply vanished. Only high up in the encircling mountains is it much the same as ever. The mountains do not change, they are the guardians of many secrets, and secrets there are aplenty in this valley. They are the mysteries and superstitions that have grown into truisms, but like the olive trees, no one is certain of their origins. They say, "many mouths make many tales and who can ever know the truth". I have heard a story about the Guadalquivir. Now I would like you to be the judge of its truth. As a young man, I worked the olives and lived with the Gypsies who still visit this land. They told me a tale that only the mountains could have witnessed, but mountains do not speak, and the Gypsies do not normally talk to strangers, so for this story to be told, I must tell it. As I sat by the gypsy camp fires at night, drinking wine and listening to their folklore, one narrative fascinated me. In it, I felt transported to a past when the Guadalquivir was in many places the way nature had intended. But it was also a past full of change, not only in the valley, but also throughout Spain where great evil and misery walked among the people. . . . Religious persecution of Jews, Gypsies and Muslims by the fanatics of the `Inquisition' left a trail of pain and shame that soiled the name of the God these zealots worshipped. But Spain was not the only country that had descended into barbarism. Throughout Europe wars raged, famine and death were the companions of plague and havoc. Feudal lords held sway over life and land, supported by roving bands of mercenaries. Life was worth the price you could pay, and for those who could pay nothing, their life was also worth nothing. It is in this period that our story takes place. The exact date is not important. Indeed, it would be hard to locate the exact decade. The characters concerned in this drama cared little about time or politics. They only wanted to live their lives the way their ancestors had. To them, God and Mother Nature were one and the same, and each a part of the whole that is life. But unfortunately they were living an era of change, and this change could maybe destroy them. Raymond BakerŠ2006 |
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