Michael Coy
THERE are two reasons why Spaniards keep April 17 in mind.
The first is a strange business deal between a ‘power couple’ and an Italian adventurer.
Think of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.
Fernando and Isabel were, in the late 15th century, the newly-weds to watch.
Their marriage united the two realms of Aragon and Castile, making Spain a country for the first time.
They had a focus – expelling the Arabs from Spain – which was feasible, because as the century came to an end, the moros were restricted to a single corner of Andalucia.
The royal couple were not old (Isabel was 40 and Fernando was 50) when they were approached by a lobbyist.
Christopher Columbus had tried to ‘sell’ his idea at every royal court in Europe. (In Spain, you have to call him ‘Cristóbal Colón’, or no-one will understand who you’re talking about).
His plan was to sail west to get to Japan, to buy spices. He knew that the world was round, but his calculation was badly off.
No-one was aware that the continent of The Americas existed, so Columbus assumed that the distance to Japan was much shorter than it really is.
By 1492, Ferdinand and Isabella (as we call them in English) had driven the Arabs in Spain back to one final stronghold – the city of Granada.
They had gathered their resources for an all-out attack on this last Muslim enclave. Plans were laid.
They had built a base camp in the flat prairie to the west of the city: as was the custom, they gave their camp a religious name – Santa Fe, or ‘Holy Faith’.
Columbus had hawked his project around the royal courts of the then-known world, and no-one was buying.
When the Catholic Monarchs (Fernando and Isabella) rejected him, he was finished. He left.
It’s not clear why, but Queen Isabella sent a messenger after Columbus, telling him to come back.
Against all odds, she had decided to finance his madcap scheme.
The so-called ‘Capitulations of Santa Fe’ was a deal, signed on April 17, 1492, which paid for three ships to take Columbus to Japan, to collect spices.
As we now know, he didn’t make it to Japan. Instead, he discovered America, and claimed it for his sponsor, Spain.
The second reason is another legendary figure – Rosario Sánchez Mora who died in Madrid at the age of 88 on April 17, 2008.
She had been born in 1919, in a village to the south-east of the capital. When Rosa was 18 years old, she drifted into Madrid, looking for work.
In those days, a single teenage girl had few options: she could choose to be a domestic servant, or work for very low wages as a seamstress. She opted for the latter.
When the civil war broke out in July 1936, Rosa became an anti-Franco fighter, specialising in explosives.
The war was only two months old when she suffered a severe mutilation. She lost her right hand in an explosion.
Undeterred, Rosa continued as one of Madrid’s ammunition experts. She became known as the “Dynamite Girl” – La Dinamitera.
She never wavered in her opposition to Franco.
Driven out of Madrid, she went to Valencia and finally, as the Republican part of Spain shrank to almost nothing, she settled in Alicante.
But, as we all know, Franco won. Rosa’s father was shot dead by a firing squad, and Rosa herself was condemned to death.
This was commuted to 30 years in prison. In fact, she was released in March 1942, after serving only three years.
Rosa had married hastily during the civil war, and when she got out of jail, she set out to trace her husband.
To her bitter disappointment, he had formed a new relationship, and now had two children by his new wife.
Rosa, as an enemy of Franco, couldn’t get a regular job. She supported herself for decades by running a tobacco kiosk in central Madrid.
Finally, well into her eighties, La Dinamitera was recognised as a war victim, and qualified for a pension.
Though she died in obscurity, the Dynamite Girl left her mark on Spain: she was, during the war and for decades after, a literal living legend.
READ MORE:
