Morocco “ A Tale of Two Kingdoms”

A Tale of Two Kingdoms Morocco Road Trip

Catia Fonseca Gilberto Bento

Itinerary

A New Kingdom is rising in old Morocco. Upon arrival, we are welcomed to the sight of the slick new terminal of the Marrakech airport, which as in so many other business and cultural ventures, utilizes Morocco’s traditional crafts and aesthetics as an essential tool and inspiration for the affirmation of the modern Morocco. We set out for a road trip which will take us up the Atlas and into the Saharan region. We will see new roads and bridges, the largest solar power station in the world and a fashion photo shoot up in the mountains. We will see the old and the new Morocco side by side, and we will find a land which remains as beautiful and fascinating as ever.

The Kasbah Tigmi N’Oufella is a tradi-

tional family compound in the village of Anguelz up in the Telouet plateau. The word kasbah means citadel, and the red mud houses are built around a patio with a high protecting wall.

The main building is the family home, an older building houses the animals, while we sleep in the most recent structure. In the Moroccan highlands, family kasbahs are dynamic entities, in which each generation builds a new home.

Older buildings change function and may eventually dissapear. However, house building is changing in this new kingdom. The traditional kasbahs require constant maintenance and the addition of a new mud coating each year to compensate for the damage provoked by the Winter rains. Many new houses are now built with concrete, which is not only less atractive and charismatic but also less comfortable and sustainable. The red mud provides better insulation from both the extreme heat and the extreme cold and is of course locally sourced. We can only hope that, in the future, this beautiful red mud kasbahs will continue to dot the landscape of the Atlas valleys.

The village of Anguelz overlooks a green oasis surrounded by the ocre of three surrouding villages and of the bare rock above. The spoken language we hear is Tasheliq and not the Morrocan Arabic of the cities. Walking through the villages we observe the motions of what is still a largely traditional

way of life. Up in the main road we find a group of women bringing their goat milk to a trader. Throughout this morning we observe how women are everywhere and complete every back-breaking task. Young men have left for jobs in the big cities of Marrakech, Ouarzazate, Casablanca, with some going further to Europe in search of opportunities. Women were left behind, in charge of raising children, caring for the elderly, tending to crops, feeding animals, trading their products: in sum maintaining an entire community. Here up in the High Atlas, in the heart of the Amazigh territory, the old kingdom is kept alive by these ladies. The old kingdom is turned into new by an empowerment brought by circumstances. We wonder if the many children we see will follow their fathers or stay with their mothers. If these villages will resist and prosper and how, or if like so many of their European counterparts fade out.

The Lord of the Atlas was the name by which Thami El Glaoui, caid of the Glaoua tribe

and pasha of Marrakech during the French Protectorate, was known in his day. We visit the Kasbah of Telouet, the palace comissioned by Thami in his family’s ancestral lands. It is a spectacular example of Moroccan traditional architecture and crafts, combining rural Atlas architecture with urban ArabAndalusian features including colorful tiles, intricate plaster works, opulent wood-carved ceilings and beautiful arab caligraphy. During the post-World War 2 era, an elderly Thami resisted the Moroccan nationalists and the young Sultan calling for full independence from France. Thami was declared a traitor just before his passing and his family was sent into exile in France. The kasbah is now in an advanced state of disrepair and abandonment. However, here in the Glaoua tribal lands, the memory of the Lord of the Atlas lives on. In our room we find old pictures depicting Thami and his courtiers, showing that in the new kingdom tribal identity, tribal history and tribal loyalty persist.

A Cinematic Kingdom is locat-

ed where the Ounila and Ouarzazate rivers meet. Ait Ben Haddou - the house of Haddou - is an enormous and spectacular kasbah. A fortified hilltop town of mud buildings which since the 8th century benefited from being at the confluence of multiple trans-Saharan trade routes. The sights of Ait Ben Haddou were made world famous as the background to a multitude of blockbuster movies and TV series: Lawrence of Arabia, Game of Thrones, Gladiator, Alexander and many more. The movie industry is so important for this region of Morocco that the largest film studios in Africa - the Atlas Studios - are situated only a couple of miles away in Ouarzazate.

Only a handful of families still live in the old kasbah itself, with most inhabitants now living in the adjoining dusty village across the Ounila river where life follows the rhythm of the daily arrival and departure of the tourist buses that replaced the old trader caravans.

The Valley of Roses, or M’gouna val-

ley in Tasheliq, gets its name from the damascene roses which have been grown here for centuries.

Each spring the roses are harvested, pressed and distilled. The extract is exported to buyers around the world to be used by the cosmetic industry in all manners of beauty products. Only a small share of the production is used for the local artisanal oils, creams and parfums which can be found in one of the many local cooperatives which dot the Moroccan countryside. We traveled here in the hope of seeing the roses in bloom but a warmer than normal Spring led to an early harvest. Our young guides’ best efforts allowed us to at least see a couple of flowers left behind in rose orchads. Later, our mild disapointment vanishes as we watch the spectacular views from the Dar Timitar, on a cliff overlooking the M’Gouna valley.

The Gorges

The Gorges of the southern slope of the

High Atlas are the result of millions of years of erosion by snow-fed rivers carving the soft sandstone. The result is a striking landscape of ocre and green; the green of the vegetation which grows abundantly along the river banks, and the ocre of the nearly bare sandstone rock.

Each gorge is different. We first drive through the Ounila, with its narrow and precipitous canyon with the villages hanging precariouly above the green strip bellow. The M’gouna is broad and expansive, as if a broad brush had been used to paint it in green. The Dades forms a canyon so narrow and deep that the green is reduced to some isolated specks of life. Historically, the gorges were lifelines for this area of Morocco, they were oases with water and green where human populations would cluster. The gorges were also the highways through which caravans crossed the Atlas and today fullfil the role of atractions bringing in tourists. We take a shortcut between the M’gouna and Dades valleys, and as we turn into the small piste multiple locals cry out “doucement”. The road was most certainly not fit for ou 2-wheel car but we somehow managed our way through it and the risk was more than worth it. The isolated highplateau between the valleys is breathtaking, a steppe-like environment populated by semi-nomadic shepherds and grazing animals.

The Girl

was shepherding an enormous flock of goats along the banks of the Dades river. We stop for lunch at one of the local hotels which is empty as most of the valley after the Easter peak season. It is a quiet and quaint view in a searing hot day and the hotel cleaners are taking a break from doing the laundry under the shade of the trees lining the river. As we drink our after lunch tea, the girl suddenly starts shepherding the flock away from the river and up the mountain. She holds nothing but a tree branch and she is wearing sandals on her feet. She is alone and while most of the goats seem to know perfectly well which direction to take, a handful of inevitable run-aways climbs in the wrong direction maybe in search of some greener shoots to chew. The girl runs and climbs up the hill, she jumps from rock to rock with a mesmerizing and frightening agility. To our eyes it looks like she is constantly on the brink of disaster. She is a member of one of the semi-nomadic families we had seen earlier in the day.

The Dades valley had no permanent settlements before the onset of tourism, and while some formerly nomadic families have settled as workers or owners of hotels, restaurants and shops in the valley, many still follow the same lifestyle and age-old routines. I can not stop myself from wondering what crosses this girls’ mind when she inevitably sees the hotels and the cars, the foreign tourists with their cameras and modern clothes. She is right there in front of our eyes and yet she could not be more distant, as if she is a mirage, a sighting from an older more ancient time.

The Source of Lalla Mimmouna is a work of

love. Driving through a desolate landscape we see a billboard indicating a roadside museum in the middle of nowhere, and we stop next to what looks like small castle. Entering the gate the searing hot temperature cools dow and we see a garden. We are welcomed by Zaid who guides us through his museum. Once this was the only source of fresh water within miles, used by local nomads and traveling traders alike, as they crossed this harsh section of the Moroccan desert. Zaid made it is life work to bring the source back to life, to clean it and to surround it with one of the finest ethnographic museums we have seen anywhere in the world. In fact it is a beautiful mixture of museum and art instalation and a tribute to the Moroccan rural world. Organized with the water source as its center piece the exhibition is composed of the many things that make the culture and history of the peoples of Morocco; the agricultural tools and wedding dresses, traditional weapons and old contracts, cooking objects and nomadic tents. These are displayed in a growing self-contained garden established according to the Islamic principles of simmetry and harmony. The visitor is taken into an intimate voyage through the everyday life of the old kingdom. While Zaid explains the old water management systems, and the symbolism of water as a provider of life, we marvel at how in this lost place the memory of Morroco is kept and nourished by the dedication and love of one man.

The End of the Road is in Tissardmine, a village of 15 families, former nomads forced to settle by constant droughts and imaginary lines in the sand. After Tissardmine it’s only desert. We arrive during a scorching hot afternoon to Cafe Tissardmine, an artists’ retreat built in the traditional manner and with local materials. The place looks empty when a tall man appears: “Hi, we wave a booking”- I say.

“No, you don’t. Karen didn’t mention anything.”...cue awkward silence followed by a broad smile...”but don’t worry we have rooms, do you want a tea?” And that was how we met Yousef.

Aman Iman - Water is life, is one of the most quintessential truths of life in the North African

desert. In Tissardmine, it is obvious why. The village surrounds a tiny oasis of date palms, and a single well provides water for people, animals and crops. No running water is available. Beyond the village lays the never ending undulating desert. In the late afternoon the roar of a diesel engine marks the moment when that engine was finally repaired and the locals were finally capable of bringing fresh water home.

A Great Nothingness surrounds us. I walk out of the village limits and climb a nearby hill.

When I arrive at the top there is only more undulating rocky hills intespersed by flowing sand dunes. It is oppresively hot which together with the nothingness can be overwhelming. However, I quickly find it liberating: the absence of constant stimulation, the silence and the grandeur of the horizon, no phone calls to answer, no social media feeds, no e-mails to check, no news to shake your head about, no deadlines looming. That is why Karen, the creator of Cafe Tissardmine chose this place for an artists retreat.

No distractions, no gadgets, no solicitations, no urgent matters, only a serene and timeless landscape.

The golden sand dunes of the Erg Chebbi are like an endless ocean. We’re puzzled to see

two young girls, shepherding goats in the sand. However, when they walk to us with their toy camels made of rags in hand, we realize that we are the pasture. After some grazing, the young shepherds and their overwhelmingly cute goat companions walk away. As the sun sets we meet Yousef in a contemplative mood, looking into the horizon. While driving us back through the desert, Yousef cranks up his music. I immediately recognize the sound of Tinariwen, the Mali desert blues band, I take a look at Yousef and at the desert twilight and let the undulating sound of Tinariwen mix with the undulating landscape.

The Garden of Eden

is located in the valley of the Draa. The Draa, fed each Spring by the melting snows of the Atlas, is the largest river in Southern Morocco. Arriving at the valley is as surreal experience, an overflow of green, cool air and water in the otherwise barren landscape of the Anti-Atlas region. The existance of water in relative abundance means agriculture in the river banks, which means that people live in a number of villages and large towns alongside the Draa. The Draa is a beautiful area populated by ksars and kasbahs hanging from hilltops. More than anything the Draa is a refuge, a paradise of life in the heart of the desert, the first and last place of rest for the desert-crossing caravans.

We take the long drive back across the High Atlas. The road between Ouarzazate and

Denmat is narrow, windy and in terrible shape but it also crosses the heartland of the Amazigh. Village upon village hangs from the cliffs overlooking narrow valleys. It is harvest season and everywhere we find farmers, in fact entire villages harvesting the wheat which is their sustenance for the next year. We stop our car and to hear women singing down in the valley while they labor. With the majestic backdrop of the Atlas, the sound and color of the old kingdom could not be more inspiring.

The Red City of Marrakech is our final destination. Marrakech has long been a fabled city that

ignites the imagination of travelers from all over the world - its name synonimous with exoticism. Today, millions of tourists flock here every year and for the uniniated Marrakech can be dizzying, chaotic and slightly overwhelming. Our journey through the mountains and deserts of Southern Morocco helps us understand the red city a little bit better. Marrakech was, and still is a point of convergence. The great Amazigh metropolis, the market town that received traders from the Atlas and caravans from the Sahara, and where news from the outside world first arrived before spreading back to the Atlas villages.

The exotic and mysterious Marrakech is quickly becoming the most modern city in Morocco, the face of the country to the outside world and where most Moroccans can most easily find the fast approaching modernity. However, today is the first day of the Ramadan, and the usual frenzy is brought to a remarkable calm interspersed only by preachers voices reciting verses of the Koran in the radio. Marrakech is the door through which fortunate travellers can first take a look at both the New and the Old Kingdom, it is where they meet, intertwine, and become the same Morocco.

catiafons@gmail.com gilberto.bento@gmail.com