Trek Morocco Day 5- Tabarkhacht- Kelaà M’Gouna-8 klms

The last day and only two hours hike, but it seems a lot longer and harder, as if the dust on me is turning into clay. We pass some kasbahs and small villages. In one, I find the brick homes of the Jewish quarter, laying desolate and ruined from the time of their exodus in the 16 century. Today, the Jewish population in Morocco numbers only around 5200 people (Wikipedia, 2010).

I have learned much from this trek and encounters with the Berber tribes. I hope to learn more, especially about their relationship with and care of The Source-the water that is either life or death in these parts and increasingly elsewhere.

The heat is searing, making my own departure difficult. There is something awe-inspiring about the place or space that I am walking away from. Something soulful, harsh and sublime at the same time that permeates through me and draws me back. The space, the silence and the peace.

I have not read a better discription of this encounter than in the last two stanzas of Australian poet, A.D. Hope’s ``Australia’’. It is a fitting place to end this trek. These red parched hills and the tribes that still roam them, could well be a mirror of that Land Downunder :

`Yet there are some like me turn gladly home
From the lush jungle of modern thought, to find
The Arabian desert of the human mind,
Hoping, if still from the deserts the prophets come,

Such savage and scarlet as no green hills dare
Springs in that waste, some spirit which escapes
The learned doubt, the chatter of cultured apes
Which is called civilisation over there`
http://johnwatsonsite.com/MyClassNotes/Topics/Poetry/Australia%20AD%20Hope.html

Epilogue

We re-enter the village of my guide. The occasional villager greets me like a local, which my guide finds amusing and tells me that it is a good sign. After lunch with the whole family, he kisses me twice on each cheek, as is the custom of these people. He solemly calls me `friend’, and tells me I am welcome any time in his home. I wish him well, hoping that `La Source’ that is all life, stays with him, his family and his tribe.
`Que La Source soit avec toi’

RECOMMENDATIONS:

`Les Berbères: Memoire et identité (Gabriel Camps, Babel 2007)
`Morocco' (Lonely Planet)
`Festival of the roses' Annually early May, in the vallee des roses, covered in pink Persian roses
`Essaouira Int. World Music Festival' on the SW Atlantic coast

Day 4- Izlmatdn-Tabarkhacht-25 Klms

We head SW to Timatigait then South past Ait Said and have lunch at Ifar.

Here I learn more about `La Source’ from Berber folklore. They call it `Daain’ (pronounced `aahine’ in French). This word literally translates to `the eye’ and in their lore is the source of water on the body and a sensory organ indispensible for finding same.

The connections between ecology, culture and practices become very clear. They plant, reap, work and eat according to the seasons. They have created elegant, well-insulated dwellings from mud brick that lasts over 300 years. Even brick-making is done according to the season that provides enough water and sun to dry them. This sage simplicity loses its gravitas, as we move to higher populated cities. The conscious connections to an integrated ecology are lost.

I find the diet very agreeable and my health has improved.

We camp overlooking an oasis, which is flanked by a mud-brick stockade. A mentally handicapped man is foraging by the stream. There are no institutions here, for such people, but the most human. The guides are the first to offer him the shade and hospitality of our tent. I am touched by their compassion. Later, a nomadic shepard appears with his flock. Again the guides offer him bread. Something very Biblical about such acts, in such places.

Day 3 Ait Agouti-Izlmatdn-20 klms

We pass villages along the Qati river, our presence arousing the curiosity of the locals. Children approach in each village, asking not for money, but pens. Their capacity and eagerness to learn is evident, with all getting a basic education from the ages of 7-15, however the enrolment rates drop off dramatically at the secondary level, due to the high cost. Women are also less likely to receive higher education. The Berbers learn three languages (Berber, Arab and French) at the elementary level.

Traversing the river proves a bit of a challenge with strong currents. On each side there are lush agricultural plots with a vast range of fruits and vegetables being cultivated (almonds,figs, zucchini, tomatoes, nuts, onions, wheat, potatoes, etc.) and sold at city markets.

I learn that the traditional Berbers, in general, prefere farming and rearing of livestock to commerce. In fact they prefer working with their hands to that of machines, favoured by the Arabs. In these remote regions, it is possible to see their livestyles, in much the same way as its been throughout history. Men prepare the fields and then go onto other work, then women tend to the cultivation of crops and all are united at harvest time.

We stop by the 15 Century Kasbah (castle) at El Hot and have minted tea with its current occupant. Such invitations are customary for the Berber. Even strangers passing in the street are greeted with salutations, which can last quite a while, with invitations to have tea. The hospitality is touching and we share tea in the home of one of the villagers who knows my guide. Sitting on the famous Berber carpet and drinking tea, we are invited to eat some food.

I do notice that even in the more remote villages, satelite TV is appearing and heads normally turned to each other in conversation are now directed to it. I wonder what impact this will have on development issues, given that average viewing time around the world is currently 19 hrs a week. It is hard to imagine what the loss of that time might mean in terms of the sustainability of village life and their culture. It is one that has withstood Roman subjugation and the Arabisation of the continent.

Curiously, over 500 channels are offered free with the purchase of a satelite dish, which I sense may be a market penetration strategy,with pricing introduced once the habit is adopted.

Day 2 Akka Laasker- Ait Aghte Agouti 30 klms

We leave early again after breakfast and it seems that the guides have well organised the food and essentials for the trip. Minted tea is the staple beverage and unsalted flat bread. In ancient times salt was a relative luxury. In fact Roman soldiers were paid in salt or money to buy salt, hence the word `salary' the etymology of which is tied to `salarius' (latin-pertaining to salt).

The first stage of the hike is four hours on flatter terrain and soaring temperatures again. An occasional snake or scorpion are the only creatures we meet and the smell of wild growing thyme invigorates.

Lunch this time is taken in a troglodyte (prehistoric cave dwellers) grotto, which eliminates the need to pitch the tent, which is quite an ordeal in the heat.These grottos continue to be used after thousands of years by nomadic Berber shepards, who move their flocks onto the higher plains during summer. This is a timeless socio-economic system, which provides meat and skins to villages. The nomad must first seek permission from the village chief, before grazing his flocks and is usually granted a month. He stores the droppings of his flock in the grottos, where villagers collect them for use as fertilisers.

We criss-cross a greatly diminished river and then scale steep hills of rock and shale. The camp site is perched over a small village along the river. In fact, it becomes evident that people of these parts build their villages where nature has best provided its graces, unlike places like Los Angeles and other modern cities.
Twilight sets over small pastures and orchids which provide a variety of vegetables and fruits. Workers collect their yields and carry it home on their heads and shoulders. It feels strange to be in such a place of life, just next to abject desolation.

Life is concentrated by and around the source of its survival, water. There are birds, butterflys and goats grazing on the red stoney hills behind us. The guides pitch the tent and seranade returning workers below, with traditional instruments.

A small boy is brought to us, suffering from an eye infection. I treat him with some medicines I have brought and am happy to see him better the next morning. The nearest hospital would be 2 or 3 days walk from here.

As the sun sets, the chant of an iman perched in his minaret resonates from somewhere far along the parched valley.

Day 1- Ait Tazarine NW- Akka Laasker 30 klms

We leave Ait Tazarine (south side of Atlas mountains, Southern Morocco) early to avoid hiking in the intense heat, with three village guides and three mules to carry our provisions. Our heading is NW direction towards Timassinine (30° 28' 48" North, 7° 43' 48" West). The terrain is totally flat, parched, red ochre rock and sand. There are few signs of vegetation. After 12 klms we start climbing to 1830 metres and look down across the valley below, barely making out our starting point on the horizen.

The ancient desolation is 360 degrees around us and is strangely inspiring. Nothing seems to `exist’ except our small band of five. I must trust that our guides not only know their way, but most importantly know where to find water. Sudden sand storms have been known to disorient even the most experienced guides. Ours are also very quiet types, although come highly recommended. Mohammed, the lead guide, is also the cook, whilst the other two tend the mules, which may be useful, if I am unable to walk. Some health issues are playing on my mind, however like always, I try to take things a step at a time.

We find an oasis that is almost like the idyllic place we are led to imagine. This one has drinkable water and we fill all our containers. This is our first encounter with what the Berbers call `La Source’ and its central feature within their culture and beliefs are subject to further discoveries.

The heat becomes intense, around 45 degrees and only a gentle breeze playing on sweat and the shade provided by my blue Berber head cloth. We are following the barely visible the tracks that nomadic Berbers have taken for millenniums.

These are the indigenous people of Nth Africa, first described by early Greek historian Herodotus (484-425 BC) as `nomads and cultivators’; by Saint Augustine, who was himself a Berber and other historians who rank them amongst the Canaanites of the Old Testament. Their unique language and alphabet is a mix of ancient Egyptian and Semite (Camps, 1995). In modern times they habit in no less than 12 countries including France, where they number 1.2 million of the country’s population (Wikipedia, 2010).

However, in such a remote region such as this, we will encounter the Berbers, living in much the same way they have done for thousands of years.

The guides prepare lunch on top of a stony hill, which offers 360 degree views from their tent, with its conical top. Lunch consists of mint tea, the yeast bread that they have always made, soup and various vegatables cooked with spices. After lunch we have a siesta. The fatigue, heat and full stomach contribute to a very peaceful repose.

After lunch, we head across more deserted plains in this valley, towards a dried river bed and follow the rare shade of pink laurel flower shrubs to the location of our first bivouac next to a little stream. Water is such a sacred thing here. I am told that if I really need to wash myself, I should use a hand basin and not bathe in the stream. The used water should then be used to feed any nearby vegetation. I wonder how long it will be until we who live in cities are obligued to do the same ? I recall that my dear father followed this same rituel in Australia for over 30 years.

I somehow feel refreshed and manage to climb a huge hill of rocks and shale to take a picture of our camp (see photo). The white tent is so small against an eternity of mountains and valleys beyond.