I, Hassan ibn Muhammad al-Wazzan, John-Leon d'Ammedici, was circumcised by a barber and baptized by a pope. Today I claim to be "the African": but I am not from Africa, nor from Europe, nor from the lands of the Arabs. I am also known as the Granadan, the Fassi, and the Zayati, but I did not come from any country, nor from any city, nor from any tribe. I am a wayfarer, my homeland is the caravan and my life is the least predictable of journeys.
My wrists have known successively the tickles of silk and the insults of wool, the gold of princes and the shackles of slaves. My fingers have removed thousands of veils, my lips have colored the red of shame for thousands of virgins, and my eyes have witnessed the death of cities and the collapse of empires.
And you will hear in my mouth Arabic, Turkish, Castilian, Berber, Hebrew, Latin, and colloquial Italian, for all languages ​​and all prayers are in my hands, but I belong to none of them. I belong to God and to the dust, and to them I shall return one day soon.
And you will outlive me, my son, and you will carry my memory and read my books. And then you will see this scene: your father in Neapolitan dress, aboard this ship that is taking him back to the African shore, engrossed in writing like a merchant preparing his accounts at the end of a long sea voyage.
Isn't this roughly what I do: What have I gained, what have I lost, what shall I say to the Great Judge? He has lent me forty years which I have wasted in travel, living wisdom in Rome, infatuation in Cairo, sorrow in Fez, and still living my purity and innocence in Granada.