Amazight Country

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This weekend I finally visited a volunteer whose town I have been wanting to see for over a year now, before I even knew where I would be posted for my two years of service. I have been (relatively) busy and the opportunity hadn’t really presented itself before, but the real reason I didn’t go was that I was scared.

I had heard so much about his site, a small town up in the High Atlas, bursting with Berber (Amazight) pride and within easy walking distance of a beautiful reservoir. I was scared I would fall in love with his site and be depressed going back to my city in the dusty plains, far from mountains, water, trees and everything else I miss.

Having now seen Ouaouizaght, it’s babbling brooks tumbling through narrow valleys in the shade of ancient olive trees by equally ancient adobe homes, surrounded on three sides by imposing rust-red mountains and on the other side adorned by the bright blue reservoir spread out below, I know I was right to wait. I loved that town.

It wasn’t easy getting up to Ouaouizaght, mostly because I had no idea what the best way was. I was traveling with another volunteer, but he didn’t know either. I think I chose the worst possible route, though on the map it looked the most direct. Maps of the Atlas are deceiving at best. We took a grand taxi from Kelaa to Attaouia, where we wanted to go straight to Azilal. I was told nobody would go there and that the best we could do was Demnate. After a not-so-short wait in Demnate the taxi filled up and we were on the way to Azilal. After a short stop in Azilal and running into another volunteer over coffee, we finally climbed into the last taxi of the day and took off for Ouaouizaght.

We were visiting Rich, another Youth Development Volunteer (who also has a blog on Travelblog). He showed us around town and we even got to make guest appearances in his (2 hour) English class at a local association. Gotta give this man bonus points for motivation, he really loves his students. I got to sit in a café, which is taboo for women under normal circumstances. But I was obviously an outsider and with that status comes certain allowances to “not know” the rules. Sitting in a café and chatting with the guys was fun, but I don’t think I’m missing out on much since I’m not a smoker. Next time I’ll ask if we can sit outside because the smoke was so thick I could hardly talk through it.

Rich proposed a morning hike and since we were planning to go see the reservoir in the evening we turned our back to the water and started up hill. I was so happy to go on a hike I practically bounced my way up along the rocks, hopping across the streams and giggling through the fields and around the cacti. It had recently rained and the cacti were shiny and the dust packed down, though the air still had a summer heat-haze which make the view of the reservoir almost smoky. We strolled along the streams, climbed up rocky outcroppings, picked our way through a maze of cacti that grew in dense bunches and went in search of some locally fabled caves. They were easy to spot, high up along the valley wall, tall caves that reminded me of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. They were also relatively easy to get to, wending through the cacti, down over the cliff ledge and across a slight slope. The problem was they were guarded by a large dog that barked a vicious warning to us as soon as we were in sight. I told Rich to go first and was a bit nervous (okay, I was scared) until I saw that the mutt was tied up. Rich tried to throw it a stick to play with, but I don’t think that dog had ever been allowed to play before and he just barked louder at the stick. It was pretty obvious to us this was a sheep dog on guard which meant that there were sheep penned in the caves which meant that somebody lived there. An elderly man emerged from the cave and we yelled greetings back and forth in a mixture of Arabic and Tamazight (us) and Tamasight and French (him) as we scrambled back along the path up to the cliff top. When we were out of sight the dog stopped barking and I was once again lulled by the crisp mountain air, far reaching view across the reservoir and red mountains. I sat down to take it all in when Rich realized his glasses had fallen out of his pocket somewhere along the trek.

We eventually found the glasses and made it back home quite uneventfully. Though short and undemanding, the hike was exactly the change of scenery and pace I had been needing. I got to see trees and climb up a (very small) cliff and laugh loudly and sing to myself outside and even sit in the sun in my tank top for a little, though I had to put my long sleeve shirt back on when a sheep herder wandered a bit too near. It was the new and different that made me feel so alive and energetic.

And yet, there are some patterns to volunteer weekend rendezvous that never change. We cooked great food, better than any of us would do just for ourselves. We watched movies - Anchorman and 40 Year Old Virgin. We complained about work and dreamed about what we’ll do and eat when we get back home. We talked about applying for grad school.

Then it was over and Rich told me that the route I should have taken was through Beni Mellal. Leaving Rich’s little mountain paradise we took just one taxi to Beni Mellal and then hopped a bus that went straight to Kelaa, with the usual stops every few miles to let people on and off in what looked like the middle of nowhere to me. Travel is fun and I loved seeing Attaouia, Demnate and Azilal, but one taxi and one bus is so much easier on the body than four taxis. There’s only so much time I can spend sharing the front seat with another person or the back seat with three others. Transportation to somewhere new is always an adventure here, though even routine routes can be exciting since vehicles are unreliable and the passengers are always as interesting to me as I probably am to them.

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Photos

Demnate
We didn't stay for the Amazight (Berber) festival that was starting that day, but I did have time to read the Arabic part of the sign at my 5 year old reading pace. Your guess is as good as mine on the Berber.

On the Road from Azilal
Rich warned me to have my camera out in the taxi when we cersted the pass and saw the reservoir and his town spread out below.

Heading out of Town
The beginning of our morning hike went by homes and through olive groves where the harvest is in full swing.

Ouaouizaght
I finally got the guys to stop long enough to take a photo looking back at the town, with the reservoir beyond.

In the Afternoon Rich and his friend
took us out to the reservoir where we found a group of Belgians and Dutch fishing for 20 to 30 kilo carp. They showed me photos of ones they had caught here, probably because it was obvious I didn't believe there really were 30kilo carp.

Demnate Donkey
Not as good a photo as the on with the dog, but I couldn't help adding it on.

Bonus!
I had a small birthday party on the 14th. From right: me, Fouzia, Selma, Maryam, Najat and her mother.

Comments

[Laura]

Happy Belated Birthday
I hope you had a very happy birthday, Heathercita. Portland misses you.

[abjaou smail]

magic photo
demnate is one of the beste place in moroco,not because it's verry big like others cities.but because thers peuple live the natural life.i dont know if you were visited the places near demnate (for exemple IMI NIFRI) or note,it s verry wondrfull.sorry i know that i dont speak english very weel.