Both Pliny the Elder and Isidore of Seville wrote on speaking birds, mostly focusing on ravens but including parrots, so the phenomenon was not unknown in the old world.
Moonlight in a Jar: An Al-Andalus Timeline
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- al-andalus cordoba timeline
Both Pliny the Elder and Isidore of Seville wrote on speaking birds, mostly focusing on ravens but including parrots, so the phenomenon was not unknown in the old world.
Nobody expects the Mapuche inquisition.
Islam will definitely spread in Central America. Might be like Indonesia where we see Javan style Mosques, while in mesoamerica, we see square stone pyramids.
Weirdly enough in the Sons of The Inti timeline by King of the Uzbeks this is exactly what happens. Mapuche get converted and turn into a zealot Catholic little thug army/inquisition.
That would be Jihad....yes i knew how controversial and misinterpreted is that term
Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way. It’s a joke towards King of the Uzbek’s timeline, where the Mapuche, influenced by catholic Portuguese, turn into horse riding zealots.
Another idea, the Mosques can be built on converted Temples with the surrounding courtyard added to it too. In Bangladesh, a lot of the Mosques often have a decent sized body of water used for wudhu( washing before prayer). Many Meso American courtyards often had large pools right by it, perfect for converted Native and Andalusian Muslims.
Been away from the site for a bit and I can't even describe how awesome it is to see this timeline make it to the New World. Can't wait to see where it goes from here.
In honor of al-Mustakshif's voyage, I wrote a bit of fanfiction (I suppose) and am posting it here with the blessing of @Planet of Hats. It's supposed to be one of the Saqaliba poems inspired by TTL authors Ibn Ishaq and Ibn Hazm discussed in the Grace, Love and Horses update, particularly the work of a TTL Siqlabi marcher lord in a frontier alcazar pining away for a distant love (I left it unclear whether a man or woman, since OTL Andalusis were just as elusive.) I attempted to copy the style of Ibn Zaydun and Wallada bint al-Mustakfi, though I'm obviously much less adept than them. Chalk it up to the Siqlabi in question being a better fighter than poet
.
Untitled, by Hassan ibn Mujahid al-Tulayti
Truth of the heart, I am destroyed by a love, so great
Shipwrecked I quietly sink, may sweeter winds arise,
The word of Beloved's is as a jewel, beyond any a scholar's debate
I stay at my post and wait, far from the slightest of a lover's sighs
If unruly with fierce pride, if with a lantern’s zeal your lover's flames rise
Ah! Beloved turns the stone to light, and the writer's wax manipulates.
The cup of Khidr contains but wine, if only you realize
Then all the realms seen by the Caliph, at your feet prostrate.
My days are flooded by tears, yet still yearn for but one chance
Haunted by Beloved's shining eyes and long lashes
Give away alcazar and service, for Beloved, for but one glance.
Yet here in the distant keep, far from love, all my joys are as ashes.
Brother traveler, leave this lonely station, go back!
Retread your old steps, and towards my Beloved you'll advance.
In honor of al-Mustakshif's voyage, I wrote a bit of fanfiction (I suppose) and am posting it here with the blessing of @Planet of Hats. It's supposed to be one of the Saqaliba poems inspired by TTL authors Ibn Ishaq and Ibn Hazm discussed in the Grace, Love and Horses update, particularly the work of a TTL Siqlabi marcher lord in a frontier alcazar pining away for a distant love (I left it unclear whether a man or woman, since OTL Andalusis were just as elusive.) I attempted to copy the style of Ibn Zaydun and Wallada bint al-Mustakfi, though I'm obviously much less adept than them. Chalk it up to the Siqlabi in question being a better fighter than poet
.
Untitled, by Hassan ibn Mujahid al-Tulayti
Truth of the heart, I am destroyed by a love, so great
Shipwrecked I quietly sink, may sweeter winds arise,
The word of Beloved's is as a jewel, beyond any a scholar's debate
I stay at my post and wait, far from the slightest of a lover's sighs
If unruly with fierce pride, if with a lantern’s zeal your lover's flames rise
Ah! Beloved turns the stone to light, and the writer's wax manipulates.
The cup of Khidr contains but wine, if only you realize
Then all the realms seen by the Caliph, at your feet prostrate.
My days are flooded by tears, yet still yearn for but one chance
Haunted by Beloved's shining eyes and long lashes
Give away alcazar and service, for Beloved, for but one glance.
Yet here in the distant keep, far from love, all my joys are as ashes.
Brother traveler, leave this lonely station, go back!
Retread your old steps, and towards my Beloved you'll advance.
Last edited:
Planet of Hats
Donor
You're a better poet than I, and I'm immensely flattered that someone would bother to write fanwork about something I've written.Been away from the site for a bit and I can't even describe how awesome it is to see this timeline make it to the New World. Can't wait to see where it goes from here.
In honor of al-Mustakshif's voyage, I wrote a bit of fanfiction (I suppose) and am posting it here with the blessing of @Planet of Hats. It's supposed to be one of the Saqaliba poems inspired by TTL authors Ibn Ishaq and Ibn Hazm discussed in the Grace, Love and Horses update, particuarly the work of TTL Siqlabi marcher lord in a frontier alcazar pining away for a distant love (I left it unclear whether a man or woman, since OTL Andalusis where just as elusive.) I attempted to copy the style of Ibn Zaydun and Wallada bint al-Mustakfi, though I'm obviously much less adept than them. Chalk it up to the Siqlabi in question being a better fighter than poet
Untitled, by Hassan ibn Mujahid al-Tulayti
Truth of the heart, I am destroyed by a love, so great
Shipwrecked I quietly sink, may sweeter winds arise,
The word of Beloved's is as a jewel, beyond any a scholar's debate
I stay at my post and wait, far from the slightest of a lover's sighs
If unruly with fierce pride, if with a lantern’s zeal your lover's flames rise
Ah! Beloved turns the stone to light, and the writer's wax manipulates.
The cup of Khidr contains but wine, if only you realize
Then all the realms seen by the Caliph, at your feet prostrate.
My days are flooded by tears, yet still yearn for but one chance
Haunted by Beloved's shining eyes and long lashes
Give away alcazar and service, for Beloved, for but one glance.
Yet here in the distant keep, far from love, all my joys are as ashes.
Brother traveler, leave this lonely station, go back!
Retread your old steps, and towards my Beloved you'll advance.
Been away from the site for a bit and I can't even describe how awesome it is to see this timeline make it to the New World. Can't wait to see where it goes from here.
In honor of al-Mustakshif's voyage, I wrote a bit of fanfiction (I suppose) and am posting it here with the blessing of @Planet of Hats. It's supposed to be one of the Saqaliba poems inspired by TTL authors Ibn Ishaq and Ibn Hazm discussed in the Grace, Love and Horses update, particuarly the work of TTL Siqlabi marcher lord in a frontier alcazar pining away for a distant love (I left it unclear whether a man or woman, since OTL Andalusis where just as elusive.) I attempted to copy the style of Ibn Zaydun and Wallada bint al-Mustakfi, though I'm obviously much less adept than them. Chalk it up to the Siqlabi in question being a better fighter than poet
Untitled, by Hassan ibn Mujahid al-Tulayti
Truth of the heart, I am destroyed by a love, so great
Shipwrecked I quietly sink, may sweeter winds arise,
The word of Beloved's is as a jewel, beyond any a scholar's debate
I stay at my post and wait, far from the slightest of a lover's sighs
If unruly with fierce pride, if with a lantern’s zeal your lover's flames rise
Ah! Beloved turns the stone to light, and the writer's wax manipulates.
The cup of Khidr contains but wine, if only you realize
Then all the realms seen by the Caliph, at your feet prostrate.
My days are flooded by tears, yet still yearn for but one chance
Haunted by Beloved's shining eyes and long lashes
Give away alcazar and service, for Beloved, for but one glance.
Yet here in the distant keep, far from love, all my joys are as ashes.
Brother traveler, leave this lonely station, go back!
Retread your old steps, and towards my Beloved you'll advance.
Everything from the sense of sadness and loneliness to the parts about "Khidr's cup" and "stone to light" feels so supremely Andalusian.
I think this Hassan ibn Mujahid was a better writer than you're giving him credit for.
I really want the post about Al-Andalus as seen by the forcibly translocated native americans. I know, all but for a fact, that someone in Al-Andalus with the ability to access these people would have wanted to hear the story during their lifetimes.
ACT VII Part II: Al-Mustakshif's Second Voyage and Ibn Mundhir's Circumnavigation
Planet of Hats
Donor
The people I was sent with are strange people. They gave me cloth and showed me how to cover myself. They gave me food that tasted cloying and rough, and then some food that tasted better, but still very strange. It gave me a tummyache.
They gave me a name. Hadil. I don't know why. I liked being Uiara.
They put us on the biggest canoe I had ever seen and went away from home for days and days. They were people like I had never seen before, speaking in words I could not understand, at least at first. Some of their words were simpler. Eventually I could understand those better. But none of them could understand me when I would try to speak to them in the nheengatu. It was frightening to not be understood. I tried to learn so I could at least talk to them.
They asked me questions about lands we saw. I had never seen any of them before. I don't think so, anyway. Everything looks so strange when you are standing on a big canoe. I tried to describe what kind of lands they were but I don't think they understood, but they called out to their gods and got on their knees and shouted anyway. I think they were happy with me. But they wouldn't let me go home.
We went far into the big water after that. I couldn't see land anymore. I wanted to throw up.
I could only cry for Tainara. My sister. She got very sick while we were in the big water, and died. Two of the others did, too. I cried for all of them and wished I could go home, to before the shrimp-fishers burned our village and took us away and gave us to the men in the big canoe.
At least the man who led me there is kind to me, but won't let me go home and keeps telling me to cover my body with the cloth. But he hasn't harmed me. When one of the others from the big canoe came and tried to place his hands on me, the kind man hit him and sent him away.
He calls himself Bulusan. I think. He has a long name.
The place they have taken me is shocking. There are more people than I have ever seen before, and the houses are bigger than any house I have ever seen. They reach the sky and are made of rock. It is like they live in mountains. Actually it was the smell that made me want to faint, and the sight of the animals. They do not just have people, but they also somehow ride the deer. I did not think anyone could ride a deer. Maybe it's because their deer have no horns, but are still strong enough to carry a man. They call them horse.
They took me before a very splendid-looking chief who they called Hacheeb, and told me to greet him as they taught me to greet them. I am getting a little better at speaking their words but it is not the same as the nheengatu. And, in truth, I was scared of the place. Their houses are like caves of many colours, and the tops are so high that I thought they could trap the sun if they would only build it in the right place. There were a lot of others there too, and I could see them watching me.
I wish they wouldn't. I feel awkward in all this cloth. It is pretty, though - Bulusan showed me an image of myself somehow, like he had captured a still pond in a shiny bowl. I did not recognize myself in the colours at first, but it was not unpretty.
They keep telling me about the Allah. I understand enough to know that that is the name of their protector spirit, and they always shout out to him whenever they see something they don't understand. They have been telling me many stories about him, but I don't understand a lot of it. They say there is another one who has many names that they call him by. Usually Muhammad.
We slept in another part of the mountain house. I couldn't recognize the birds that sang outside the hole in the wall. What they had me sleep on was very soft. I didn't like it.
Bulusan tells me that we are going back on the big canoe soon, but that he wants to tell me more about how to talk like him. He says he wants me to learn more about the Allah. At least Bulusan is kind, even if he lives in a large canoe that goes into a mountain.
I suppose I don't have much choice anyway.
But I hope he takes me home soon.
Excerpt: Steel and Sickness: Perspectives on the Crossing Era in the Sudan and the Algarves - Kunak Ichhuna, Kuntisuyu Freedom Press, AD 2017
The first journey of Al-Mustakshif in the continent he called the Farthest West was fairly simple in the eyes of his detractors: He traded smallpox-covered clothing to indigenous Tupi peoples on the "Coast of Baraa," enslaved six of them, killed another and set about slapping Arabic names on everything he could find before sailing off and leaving his diseases to ravage the continent.
Let us try to be fair to Al-Mustakshif, vilified though he is among many in the continent they call the Algarves and others call Abya Yala.[1] At the time of Eastern discovery of the Western World, knowledge of the spread of disease through virgin populations was mostly unknown. While the Great Plague had given Andalusian medical scientists some understanding of disease, the science of healing was still in its infancy when Al-Mustakshif and his ships arrived - and indeed, his first contact was likely not enough to doom the continent, in and of itself. What exacerbated the effect of disease upon an indigenous population unadapted to its ravages was the repeated return of Andalusian explorers and their zeal to explore and trade with anyone who might give them something that might count as a profit.
While Al-Mustakshif's first sojourn here was something of an accident, his return trip was deliberate. Setting out from Isbili in 1339, the explorer came with a fleet of thirteen ships, led by his two turs, eight saqins and three tarridas - horse transports capable of carrying approximately 15 horses each. These transports supplied the mounts for a group of Sanhaja Berbers Al-Mustakshif hired in Fes, most of them defectors from the Blue Army. In fact this voyage is the first instance of the Veiled Sanhaja falling into their traditional role in the Algarves, as they had been in the Sudan some years previous: They would be used as kishafa, or scouts, brought along mainly to protect explorers and ward off potentially hostile natives.
Al-Mustakshif's ships arrived in the Farthest West in a place they broadly named the Land of Al-Mustanjid, after the elderly and decrepit Caliph. Swinging southward, they quickly located the mouth of the Baraa and set out to undertake the mission Hajib Husayn had given them: To establish a trading presence in the Farthest West. They found it at a harbour just past the mouth of the River Marayu, where they offloaded a few basic building supplies and most of the kishafa at the site of the settlement they'd call Makzan al-Husayn - the makzan being the term which would be used for more such Algarve trade depots in years and decades to come.
This voyage seems to have led to further conflict with the natives than the last. Al-Mustakshif stayed at Makzan al-Husayn for several months, where he reported that the local tribes warned him of "man eaters" that lived in the area. Some time later, a party exploring the area for timber was attacked by a group of indigenous people, and two of the explorers were killed. The kishafa rode down and killed the indigenous warriors, and new men were sent to bring the timber back to contribute to the construction of simple housing and a mosque at the depot site.
Once certain that the makzan was defensible, Al-Mustakshif and Hadil returned to the ships and sailed onwards, leaving behind four of the craft for the depot crew. His subsequent trip took him up the coast of the Land of Al-Mustakshif, where he gave names to several rivers - the Yapuk, Raed and Zawariq[2] - before reaching the mouth of the Wadi ar-Runuqu[3], which he described as nearly as mighty as the Baraa.
From there, Al-Mustakshif's voyages took him away from the land, pursuing the first few islands he'd sighted in the distance on his first voyage. His crew disembarked to trade with the natives at several of these islands, most notably Iray,[4] which Al-Mustakshif described as densely-populated with "peaceful polytheists."
Al-Mustakshif's expedition ran into trouble off the island of Luwlina:[5] His travelogue reports that a heavy storm swept through, tearing the mast from one of the saqins and sinking it while blowing the rest of the ships to the east. The reduced fleet limped to the island of Tyn[6] to patch their sails and affect repairs, but another of the saqins stranded on a sandbar and had to be scuttled. Lingering for a few weeks, Al-Mustakshif and his men made a few trades with the natives until the damage to the ships could be repaired, and from there he set sail back to the east.
The group left at the trading post of Makzan al-Husayn would begin to develop more detailed trade ties with the surrounding natives, incuding those on the island of Marayu, with whom they would trade for pottery. The traders attempted to plant Andalusian cereal crops there but found the tropical weather a challenge, but they were soon exposed to the crops cultivated by the native Tupi and Marayu peoples, including one of the most world-changing crops to come from the Algarves: qasabi.[7]
The voyage of Al-Mustakshif, however, was not the only voyage of discovery: In 1342, another ship was blown off course. This vessel, a single saqin, was captained by a Zenata Berber named Ziri ibn Abbad, on his way back from the depot at Marsa al-Mushtari[8] with a cargo of pepper. Ibn Abbad ended up somewhat southwest of Al-Mustakshif's Ard al-Wirayubah and conducted a cursory exploration along the southern coast of the new land he found, stopping only once he reached a bay called Khalij Wasu.[9] He took shelter there to restock his ship and repair his sails.
Evidently having traded some beads and nails in exchange for qasabi bread, a well-stocked Ibn Abbad, sails patched, swung south a ways and continued on down the coast. He reached a cape on the day of Ashura before swinging back to the north to try and conduct a qus al-bahr and return to the Kaledats, but he discovered one more new land on his way out: He passed an island he called Touam, named for a pair of rock formations which he felt resembled sisters.[10]
These early three voyages would mark the first tentative steps into the New World: Ibn Abbad himself would return to Sale and report his findings to his sovereign there, and word would soon come back to the Caliph, and through him, to Husayn in Isbili. However, in the eyes of the elites in Isbili and Qurtubah, these discoveries were only a sideline to the real action.
Just as Ibn Abbad was on his way out of Marsa al-Mushtari in 1342, another sailor in the Sudan - an Andalusian, Ghalib ibn Mundhir - successfully steered his saqin through a fierce front of weather around what he called the Ra's al-Awasif, and then past Ra's Mahzur into open waters.[11] Swept along the coast by powerful weather, Ibn Mundhir took shelter in a bay in the shadow of a cape, which he dubbed Ra's al-Amal.[12] Then he looked at the stars, looked at the sun and realized that the coast curved off to the east and north, and that nothing lay to his south.
Continuing up the coast a ways, Ibn Mundhir soon arrived in a settled area inhabited by Zanj who spoke a language he could partially understand. In fact he had reached the city of Sofala, the southernmost inhabited city of the trade confederation controlled by Kilwa. His voyage put him squarely on the Swahili Coast.
When Ibn Mundhir returned home in 1343, his hold full of ivory and gold, the merchant class in Isbili flew into a tizzy: Not only was the Farthest West intriguing, but more importantly, a route now existed that would give them what they had failed to find with the vain search for a back road to the Nile. The east coast of Sudan was at least vaguely known to geographers of the time to extend upwards towards Arabia. By circumnavigating Sudan, Andalusians could completely bypass Genoa, Venice and even Amalfi (timely, as the city was badly damaged by an earthquake in 1343) and sail up the Swahili Coast and past the Warsheikh Sultanate to the Red Sea itself, or even east, granting access not only to Mecca, but to trade with the semi-mythical realm of Hindustan.
[1] Guna for "Land in its full maturity."
[2] The Oyapuk, the Courantyne and the Essequibo respectively. The Yapuk is a rare instance in which Al-Mustakshif uses the letter 'p' to name something, but Andalusi Arabic does actually have a phoneme for 'p.'
[3] The mighty Orinoco!
[4] Trinidad.
[5] Grenada.
[6] Barbados.
[7] Cassava. Get ready, West Africa....
[8] Marsa al-Mushtari - the Port of Jupiter, named because it was founded on a day when Jupiter was bright in the night sky - is an Andalusi depot on the island of Mihwaria. Basically it's Sao Tome.
[9] The Bay of All Saints in Brazil. Its name here comes from the Tupi word "guasu" - "great."
[10] Fernando de Noronha.
[11] The Cape of Storms and Cape Forbidden: The Cape of Good Hope and Cape Agulhas.
[12] Cape Hope: Namely, Cape Recife.
They gave me a name. Hadil. I don't know why. I liked being Uiara.
They put us on the biggest canoe I had ever seen and went away from home for days and days. They were people like I had never seen before, speaking in words I could not understand, at least at first. Some of their words were simpler. Eventually I could understand those better. But none of them could understand me when I would try to speak to them in the nheengatu. It was frightening to not be understood. I tried to learn so I could at least talk to them.
They asked me questions about lands we saw. I had never seen any of them before. I don't think so, anyway. Everything looks so strange when you are standing on a big canoe. I tried to describe what kind of lands they were but I don't think they understood, but they called out to their gods and got on their knees and shouted anyway. I think they were happy with me. But they wouldn't let me go home.
We went far into the big water after that. I couldn't see land anymore. I wanted to throw up.
I could only cry for Tainara. My sister. She got very sick while we were in the big water, and died. Two of the others did, too. I cried for all of them and wished I could go home, to before the shrimp-fishers burned our village and took us away and gave us to the men in the big canoe.
At least the man who led me there is kind to me, but won't let me go home and keeps telling me to cover my body with the cloth. But he hasn't harmed me. When one of the others from the big canoe came and tried to place his hands on me, the kind man hit him and sent him away.
He calls himself Bulusan. I think. He has a long name.
The place they have taken me is shocking. There are more people than I have ever seen before, and the houses are bigger than any house I have ever seen. They reach the sky and are made of rock. It is like they live in mountains. Actually it was the smell that made me want to faint, and the sight of the animals. They do not just have people, but they also somehow ride the deer. I did not think anyone could ride a deer. Maybe it's because their deer have no horns, but are still strong enough to carry a man. They call them horse.
They took me before a very splendid-looking chief who they called Hacheeb, and told me to greet him as they taught me to greet them. I am getting a little better at speaking their words but it is not the same as the nheengatu. And, in truth, I was scared of the place. Their houses are like caves of many colours, and the tops are so high that I thought they could trap the sun if they would only build it in the right place. There were a lot of others there too, and I could see them watching me.
I wish they wouldn't. I feel awkward in all this cloth. It is pretty, though - Bulusan showed me an image of myself somehow, like he had captured a still pond in a shiny bowl. I did not recognize myself in the colours at first, but it was not unpretty.
They keep telling me about the Allah. I understand enough to know that that is the name of their protector spirit, and they always shout out to him whenever they see something they don't understand. They have been telling me many stories about him, but I don't understand a lot of it. They say there is another one who has many names that they call him by. Usually Muhammad.
We slept in another part of the mountain house. I couldn't recognize the birds that sang outside the hole in the wall. What they had me sleep on was very soft. I didn't like it.
Bulusan tells me that we are going back on the big canoe soon, but that he wants to tell me more about how to talk like him. He says he wants me to learn more about the Allah. At least Bulusan is kind, even if he lives in a large canoe that goes into a mountain.
I suppose I don't have much choice anyway.
But I hope he takes me home soon.
~
We returned to the Farthest West wiser men, better prepared for what might await us. And yet even that awareness was but a ghostly shadow of the enormity of the world that lay before us. We would come upon a world of vast rivers and endless forests, places Hadil could not know nor speak of in detail, but everywhere we would go, we would find people who know not God. Perhaps there are mysteries and dangers to the Land of Baraa that we cannot fathom. But within mystery lies the seed that will become wisdom.
- Rihlat al-Mustakshif (The Travels of Al-Mustakshif), AD 1349
- Rihlat al-Mustakshif (The Travels of Al-Mustakshif), AD 1349
Damn the name of the ignorant murderer Al-Mustakshif, the enslaver of Hadil. He did not bring God, only the spectre of death. Forgotten past the dim light of his curiosity lie the tombs of a million nations, their names and histories lost to time.
- Moasir Albedy, indigenous rights activist, 1917
- Moasir Albedy, indigenous rights activist, 1917
~
Excerpt: Steel and Sickness: Perspectives on the Crossing Era in the Sudan and the Algarves - Kunak Ichhuna, Kuntisuyu Freedom Press, AD 2017
3. THE SECOND WAVE
Al-Mustakshif's Second Voyage and Others
Al-Mustakshif's Second Voyage and Others
The first journey of Al-Mustakshif in the continent he called the Farthest West was fairly simple in the eyes of his detractors: He traded smallpox-covered clothing to indigenous Tupi peoples on the "Coast of Baraa," enslaved six of them, killed another and set about slapping Arabic names on everything he could find before sailing off and leaving his diseases to ravage the continent.
Let us try to be fair to Al-Mustakshif, vilified though he is among many in the continent they call the Algarves and others call Abya Yala.[1] At the time of Eastern discovery of the Western World, knowledge of the spread of disease through virgin populations was mostly unknown. While the Great Plague had given Andalusian medical scientists some understanding of disease, the science of healing was still in its infancy when Al-Mustakshif and his ships arrived - and indeed, his first contact was likely not enough to doom the continent, in and of itself. What exacerbated the effect of disease upon an indigenous population unadapted to its ravages was the repeated return of Andalusian explorers and their zeal to explore and trade with anyone who might give them something that might count as a profit.
While Al-Mustakshif's first sojourn here was something of an accident, his return trip was deliberate. Setting out from Isbili in 1339, the explorer came with a fleet of thirteen ships, led by his two turs, eight saqins and three tarridas - horse transports capable of carrying approximately 15 horses each. These transports supplied the mounts for a group of Sanhaja Berbers Al-Mustakshif hired in Fes, most of them defectors from the Blue Army. In fact this voyage is the first instance of the Veiled Sanhaja falling into their traditional role in the Algarves, as they had been in the Sudan some years previous: They would be used as kishafa, or scouts, brought along mainly to protect explorers and ward off potentially hostile natives.
Al-Mustakshif's ships arrived in the Farthest West in a place they broadly named the Land of Al-Mustanjid, after the elderly and decrepit Caliph. Swinging southward, they quickly located the mouth of the Baraa and set out to undertake the mission Hajib Husayn had given them: To establish a trading presence in the Farthest West. They found it at a harbour just past the mouth of the River Marayu, where they offloaded a few basic building supplies and most of the kishafa at the site of the settlement they'd call Makzan al-Husayn - the makzan being the term which would be used for more such Algarve trade depots in years and decades to come.
This voyage seems to have led to further conflict with the natives than the last. Al-Mustakshif stayed at Makzan al-Husayn for several months, where he reported that the local tribes warned him of "man eaters" that lived in the area. Some time later, a party exploring the area for timber was attacked by a group of indigenous people, and two of the explorers were killed. The kishafa rode down and killed the indigenous warriors, and new men were sent to bring the timber back to contribute to the construction of simple housing and a mosque at the depot site.
Once certain that the makzan was defensible, Al-Mustakshif and Hadil returned to the ships and sailed onwards, leaving behind four of the craft for the depot crew. His subsequent trip took him up the coast of the Land of Al-Mustakshif, where he gave names to several rivers - the Yapuk, Raed and Zawariq[2] - before reaching the mouth of the Wadi ar-Runuqu[3], which he described as nearly as mighty as the Baraa.
From there, Al-Mustakshif's voyages took him away from the land, pursuing the first few islands he'd sighted in the distance on his first voyage. His crew disembarked to trade with the natives at several of these islands, most notably Iray,[4] which Al-Mustakshif described as densely-populated with "peaceful polytheists."
Al-Mustakshif's expedition ran into trouble off the island of Luwlina:[5] His travelogue reports that a heavy storm swept through, tearing the mast from one of the saqins and sinking it while blowing the rest of the ships to the east. The reduced fleet limped to the island of Tyn[6] to patch their sails and affect repairs, but another of the saqins stranded on a sandbar and had to be scuttled. Lingering for a few weeks, Al-Mustakshif and his men made a few trades with the natives until the damage to the ships could be repaired, and from there he set sail back to the east.
The group left at the trading post of Makzan al-Husayn would begin to develop more detailed trade ties with the surrounding natives, incuding those on the island of Marayu, with whom they would trade for pottery. The traders attempted to plant Andalusian cereal crops there but found the tropical weather a challenge, but they were soon exposed to the crops cultivated by the native Tupi and Marayu peoples, including one of the most world-changing crops to come from the Algarves: qasabi.[7]
The voyage of Al-Mustakshif, however, was not the only voyage of discovery: In 1342, another ship was blown off course. This vessel, a single saqin, was captained by a Zenata Berber named Ziri ibn Abbad, on his way back from the depot at Marsa al-Mushtari[8] with a cargo of pepper. Ibn Abbad ended up somewhat southwest of Al-Mustakshif's Ard al-Wirayubah and conducted a cursory exploration along the southern coast of the new land he found, stopping only once he reached a bay called Khalij Wasu.[9] He took shelter there to restock his ship and repair his sails.
Evidently having traded some beads and nails in exchange for qasabi bread, a well-stocked Ibn Abbad, sails patched, swung south a ways and continued on down the coast. He reached a cape on the day of Ashura before swinging back to the north to try and conduct a qus al-bahr and return to the Kaledats, but he discovered one more new land on his way out: He passed an island he called Touam, named for a pair of rock formations which he felt resembled sisters.[10]
These early three voyages would mark the first tentative steps into the New World: Ibn Abbad himself would return to Sale and report his findings to his sovereign there, and word would soon come back to the Caliph, and through him, to Husayn in Isbili. However, in the eyes of the elites in Isbili and Qurtubah, these discoveries were only a sideline to the real action.
Just as Ibn Abbad was on his way out of Marsa al-Mushtari in 1342, another sailor in the Sudan - an Andalusian, Ghalib ibn Mundhir - successfully steered his saqin through a fierce front of weather around what he called the Ra's al-Awasif, and then past Ra's Mahzur into open waters.[11] Swept along the coast by powerful weather, Ibn Mundhir took shelter in a bay in the shadow of a cape, which he dubbed Ra's al-Amal.[12] Then he looked at the stars, looked at the sun and realized that the coast curved off to the east and north, and that nothing lay to his south.
Continuing up the coast a ways, Ibn Mundhir soon arrived in a settled area inhabited by Zanj who spoke a language he could partially understand. In fact he had reached the city of Sofala, the southernmost inhabited city of the trade confederation controlled by Kilwa. His voyage put him squarely on the Swahili Coast.
When Ibn Mundhir returned home in 1343, his hold full of ivory and gold, the merchant class in Isbili flew into a tizzy: Not only was the Farthest West intriguing, but more importantly, a route now existed that would give them what they had failed to find with the vain search for a back road to the Nile. The east coast of Sudan was at least vaguely known to geographers of the time to extend upwards towards Arabia. By circumnavigating Sudan, Andalusians could completely bypass Genoa, Venice and even Amalfi (timely, as the city was badly damaged by an earthquake in 1343) and sail up the Swahili Coast and past the Warsheikh Sultanate to the Red Sea itself, or even east, granting access not only to Mecca, but to trade with the semi-mythical realm of Hindustan.
[1] Guna for "Land in its full maturity."
[2] The Oyapuk, the Courantyne and the Essequibo respectively. The Yapuk is a rare instance in which Al-Mustakshif uses the letter 'p' to name something, but Andalusi Arabic does actually have a phoneme for 'p.'
[3] The mighty Orinoco!
[4] Trinidad.
[5] Grenada.
[6] Barbados.
[7] Cassava. Get ready, West Africa....
[8] Marsa al-Mushtari - the Port of Jupiter, named because it was founded on a day when Jupiter was bright in the night sky - is an Andalusi depot on the island of Mihwaria. Basically it's Sao Tome.
[9] The Bay of All Saints in Brazil. Its name here comes from the Tupi word "guasu" - "great."
[10] Fernando de Noronha.
[11] The Cape of Storms and Cape Forbidden: The Cape of Good Hope and Cape Agulhas.
[12] Cape Hope: Namely, Cape Recife.
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Nice chapter as usual. But damn, those sailors actually did it. In South Africa, I don’t think the Proto Zulus havent really begun their development, so I could see interactions between the Khoisan and the Andalusians for a while. On the hindsight, the earlier access to new technology and ideas could actually cause the South Africans to structuralize much earlier than OTL, leading to whole new chain of events happening.
It is kind of depressing hearing about how the clothes that they put on the Tupi actually had smallpox on it. Although this transfer of smallpox doesn’t seem deliberate like it was mostly when it came to interaction between colonists and Natives.
It is kind of depressing hearing about how the clothes that they put on the Tupi actually had smallpox on it. Although this transfer of smallpox doesn’t seem deliberate like it was mostly when it came to interaction between colonists and Natives.
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Planet of Hats
Donor
Nah, Al-Mustakshif is not deliberately giving the Tupi smallpox blankets, though his detractors tend to paint him as doing so, and there may be other instances in history where smallpox passes to indigenous people through the sale of clothing. But smallpox did enter the region through the first and second voyages of the Discoverer. Sadly, there's no averting the brutality of virgin-field epidemics without ASBs.
All fantastic, as my friend @LunazimHawk said above, but I'm particuarly excited to see the transfer of tech to peoples in Southern Africa and...cassava! Oh man, that's gonna spark population booms and enhance state formation across West Africa.