I have lived in the Canary Islands for fourteen years now—five in Gran Canaria, nine in Fuerteventura—and somewhere along that timeline, this land began speaking to me.
Not in words, but in sensations.
In the silence of ravines, in the smell of warm dust after wind, in the hum that rises from ancient stone.

My fascination began in Gran Canaria, sitting quietly beneath the sun-bleached cliffs of Fataga, after visiting the museum and recreated village at Mundo Aborigen. Something about that place felt alive. Not in the physical sense, but in the spiritual way you only understand if you’ve stood there yourself—with the mountains wrapped around you like a cradle and the past brushing against the edges of your awareness.

What I felt was memory.
Ancient memory.
A people whose voices have been quieted but never disappeared.

Today, that feeling returned.

Scrolling through Facebook, I came across a post about the statues of Guize and Ayoze, the last aboriginal kings of Fuerteventura. They ruled the island when it was still divided: Maxorata in the north, Jandía in the south.
Men who stood between their people and the new world that arrived with Norman conquerors in the early 1400s.
Men whose decisions shaped the fate of Fuerteventura forever.

I realised the story I want to write isn’t just historical.
It’s personal.
It’s spiritual.
It’s about the islands as I’ve known them—the land, the wind, the sensations you only understand after living here for years.

So this series is my offering.
A way to honour the first islanders, their myths, their kings, their struggles… and the energy that still vibrates through every canyon and mountain ridge.

This is for anyone who feels the pull of the islands.
For the curious.
For the spiritually sensitive.
For all who believe that history is not a dead thing—it’s a presence.

Welcome to the journey.

💫 Maggie

The Afterlove Voice 💫