You’ve all heard about the High Atlas Mountains – that’s where the most damage from the earthquake that hit Morocco early in September took place. If you followed the news in America, it looked like all of Morocco, including Marrakech, was destroyed. As you’ve seen earlier in this blog, there was damage to Marrakech – but it was very limited.

Today we (sadly) left the Amanjena for a trip to the High Atlas Mountains (1). On the agenda was lunch with a Berber family in their home. If you recall, we had a dinner in a private tent with dancers and musicians, which was enjoyable but really a stage show. The promise for this adventure was that it was authentic. But we were skeptical.

The drive was supposed to be about 90 minutes but wound up taking two hours when we were stopped by road construction to clear debris from the earthquake.

Along the way, we passed many scenes of the damage. Buildings knocked over, road damage, but most importantly tents made from tarps that are now the homes for many of the people whose houses were destroyed. For right now, the tents aren’t that bad – they have running water and sanitation, which many families didn’t have before. But winter is coming …

When we finally reached the village where we were having lunch, we were met by a guide, Mohamed (2), and his driver, Mohamed. Mohamed (the driver) had a 4×4 vehicle which we actually needed to get up the steep, narrow and rutted road leading to the top of the village where our host family lived. Along the way we had to stop and negotiate a series of maneuvers to get around a large delivery truck doing his thing on the mountain.

We finally walked the last piece up to the family home. The view from their place is beautiful – you’re looking out over a valley surrounded by mountains. The man’s name was Said, and we couldn’t really understand or remember the woman’s name. Their children and grandchildren lived in the compound with them; a three year old named Adam was running around and was very cute. A son-in-law and a daughter also came in later on, but didn’t interact with us.

After an exchange of pleasantries with Mohamed (the guide) translating, we were asked to help prepare lunch. Lunch was a pair of tajines (3), one chicken and one vegetable. Our assistance was pretty minimal – we cut a few vegetables, and dropped some chicken in the pots.

While dinner was cooking – it takes quite a while – we were each taken inside and dressed in a djellaba (4). Which seemed a bit over the top to me. Especially Sally’s, which didn’t look like any djellabas we ever saw on the street – it looked like a bridesmaid’s djellaba, and never supposed to be worn again.

Lunch was surprisingly tasty. I ate the chicken tajine and all the cooked vegetables that were in it, along with the flat breads that the woman baked herself.

All in, it was very enjoyable. The people were genuine and friendly, although they didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak Berber – which limited our conversation. Mohamed (the guide) spoke excellent English, and was a resident of the villlage. Despite having only gone to school through age 12, he was knowledgeable about the world and very well spoken. We enjoyed talking with him.

After lunch, we reversed the process: walking down a long rutted road to where Mohamed (the driver) picked us up, then down the switchbacks and past a water delivery truck to the main part of the village where Kamal was waiting with our driver in the van. Then another hour and a half to our hotel for the night, the Olinto. We were stopped again at the same road construction site, but for only about 15 minutes this time.

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(1) It’s annoying but correct to keep repeating “High Atlas”, as the Atlas Mountains is composed of many sub-ranges: High, Middle, Saharan, Anti-, and Tell Atlas Mountains. But from here on I’m going to drop the “High”.

(2) Yes, another subcontracted guide.

(3) Tajine is a traditional Moroccan dish of chicken or beef typically braised with spices, garlic, onion, olives, and preserved lemons. Pretty much every restaurant and hotel we ate in serves this dish.

(4) A djellaba a loose-fitted, hooded caftan that is worn everyday in the Maghreb region of North Africa. Graham Nash wrote of “striped djellabas we can wear at home” in Marrakesh Express.