ABOUT THE WORK - Clare Norburn

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Into the Melting Pot is set in July 1492, in the home of a Jewess, Blanca. Time is running out in the face of Ferdinand and Isabella’s edict that Jews must convert to Catholicism or leave.   

 

But in a sense this is the story of any man and woman in anytime.  The tools and language of persecution don’t change much down the centuries. And even in the small amount of time since writing this show in autumn 2017, Into the Melting Pot has gained a new resonance in the face of the rise of Anti-Semitism and the stories of individuals from the Windrush generation. Things haven’t moved on that much since 1492 it seems…  

 

In the early 13th century, what we now know as modern Spain was a patchwork of five independent states (Castile, Leon, Aragon, Navarre and Granada). While each region and individual cities had different ethnic and religious allegiances, for much of the period different religious and ethnic communities lived side by side.  Jews and Muslims had roots in the peninsula going back to the 7th century.  

 

Blanca’s story echoes down the centuries, with obvious resonances in Nazi Germany – but also earlier - the Pogroms of 1391, when thousands of Jews were killed across Iberia. Yet for centuries, Jews, Muslims and Christians largely lived side by side on the Iberian Peninsula. Many had a fierce loyalty to their homeland, identifying with the rich cultural melting-pot just as strongly as their own faith. For example, many Jewish women took traditional local names (Juana, Leonor, Isabella) rather than traditional Biblical ones.       

 

The music in tonight’s show largely centres around two traditions: Alfonso’s Cantigas de Santa Maria and the Sephardic Jewish tradition which are songs of love and longing. In between are Adalusian/Arabic traditional songs, the earliest song cycle by 13th century troubadour, Martin Codax from Galicia (the NW corner of Iberia) and Christian pilgrim songs from the Llibre Vermell (associated with the monastery of Montserrat).   

 

Sephardic songs are an oral tradition. Many of the songs date back to the period after the expulsion of the Spanish Jewish diaspora as they settled in East Europe and North Africa. Written in Ladino, a Spanish dialect, these songs connect them with the country that they still saw as their homeland.   

 

Alfonso el Sabio (the wise)

When I started structuring the programme, I had an idealised view of King Alfonso X of Castile and Leon (born, 1222, reigned: 1252-1284). I knew about him first and foremost because of his musical legacy: the collection of 427 Cantigas de Santa Maria – songs in praise of the Virgin Mary.   

 

My programme notes of the past refer to him as “a relatively liberal King, whose court included a mixture of Muslim, Jewish and Christian musicians.”  The music of the Cantigas is indeed infused by this melting-pot of cultures and musical languages. The fact that Jewish and Muslim musicians were welcome at court was indeed in stark contrast to the rest of Europe who were largely taken up with The Crusades against the Muslims, while Jews were expelled from many European countries, including France, Germany and England.  

 

But Alfonso’s “liberalism” was, in part, a political expediency. He inherited a patchwork land of ethnic and political tensions. But also his tolerance only went so far, insisting that Jews have distinguishing marks on their heads. “You’re different – so wear your difference loudly.” We are within touching distance of Nazi Germany. And what about us here in the UK today.  Like Blanca, we try to convince ourselves: “It can’t happen – won’t happen here – not here.”  Can we really be that sure?