In 2019, adventurer Alice Morrison set out to follow the course of the Drâa on foot, with a caravan of camels, from Skoura all the way to the Atlantic. A journey of 1,364 kilometres and 78 days, through oases, the Sahara and ancient memories, in an intimate confrontation with water, nature and time.

There are unusual dreams which, even today, still manage to make their way into reality, and they always involve the same alchemy between the firmness of an intention and the lightness of a faith. Here in Morocco, in 2019, it took the meeting of two personalities carrying within them this same equation for a beautiful adventure to be lived in the rough field of reality. On one side, Jean Pierre Datcharry, for whom the possibility of crossing Morocco on foot and with camels must still exist today, as the great camel caravans once did, linking the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean to the distant lands of Africa beyond the Sahara Desert. On the other, Alice Morrison, for whom the need indeed to cross Morocco on foot, accompanied by camels, is an experience filled with a fundamental, vital meaning, one that had to be lived.

It was therefore in January 2019 that the first stage of this crossing of Morocco began, a journey that would include two others in the months to come. Alice had placed water at the heart of the first design of her dream: to follow the water along the course of the Drâa, from the Atlas ranges, past the oases and fortified villages of the valley that bears the same name, the Drâa Valley, through the endless expanses of sand of the Sahara Desert and as far as Foum Drâa, near the town of Tan-Tan, where the waters of the river mingle with the salt waters of the ocean. A route of almost 1,364 km which Alice would experience stage after stage and which would require 78 days of walking at the pace of the camels, with the kind and efficient support of the team from the Désert et Montagne Maroc agency: Brahim the team leader, Brahim the guide and cook, and Addi the assistant camel handler, together with five camels. An incredible adventure into the depths of Morocco, that Morocco where Nature demands of the human being who crosses it respect, humility and admiration.

The Skoura palm grove

The caravan sets out from the Skoura palm grove, a vast expanse of palm trees 50 km from Ouarzazate, renowned for its many earthen kasbahs. For Alice, it is an opportunity to discover the traditional irrigation system specific to the oases, a Khtagha, a genuine underground aqueduct dug from the slopes of the Atlas Mountains several kilometres away. This ancestral network, also known in Arabic as Foggara, or Qanât in Persian, channels underground the water needed to irrigate the oasis and is monitored through wells dug at regular intervals. These openings form small mounds of earth on the ground, in the centre of which lies the well that makes it possible to check the proper flow of the precious liquid without which crops could not grow in the gardens of this luxuriant palm grove.

Lake Ouarzazate

The first stop is on the shores of Lake Ouarzazate, which gathers the waters of several rivers, including the Dadès and Imini oueds; both have their sources in the high snow-covered peaks of the Atlas ranges, such as those of Tizi-N’Tichka, east of Djebel Toubkal, or the M’Goun, at altitudes of between 3,000 and 4,000 metres. From this magnificent lake, which offers visitors a panorama of tranquillity, the Drâa regains all its strength and sets off again down the valley to perform its work of irrigation for the many villages that border it, flowing as far as the dunes of the Sahara before becoming more discreet throughout its journey, almost invisible beneath the sandy ground, until its future encounter with the vast waters of the ocean.

The second oasis crossed by the caravan is Tamnougalte, where a large fortified village, a ksar, probably built in the 18th century, extends across the landscape. At its heart, the village contains an imposing kasbah once inhabited by the caïds responsible for governing the surrounding territories, a region formerly known as Mezguita and which then functioned as a genuine Berber-speaking emirate.

Then, near the village of Tinzouline, in Zagora Province, comes the opportunity to admire traces of Morocco’s prehistoric past: the rock engravings discovered at the Foum Chenna site, depicting both domestic and wild animals, horsemen armed with shields and spears, scenes of combat and scenes of hunting.

Alice’s caravan then arrives at the village of Tamgroute, 15 km from Zagora and renowned since the 18th century for its pottery workshops, among the oldest in Morocco. The craftsmen, who pass their know-how from generation to generation, make a typically rural pottery here whose distinctive feature is its green glaze. Tamgroute brings together several ksour, fortified villages, the best known of which is the Zaouïa Naciria, home to an old library containing works from Arab-Muslim culture, including scientific books, works on mathematics, astronomy and pharmacopoeia, among them a book by Pythagoras translated into Arabic 500 years ago, as well as literary works and many religious books.

Read: Tamegroute: green pottery and the Naciria Library

Crossing the desert

At last the desert appears, with its first dunes, where the plains begin to be covered with sand. At the edge of the douar known as Ouled Driss, meaning “the son of Driss”, a small fortified village dating from the 17th century at the gates of M’Hamid El Ghizlane, the expedition plunges into the Sahara. A new rhythm takes hold. The day seems paced, along the thread of each stage, by simple gestures that have become essential in these places: waking at sunrise, the camp being folded onto the backs of the indispensable camels, walking beside them until the next halt before the end of the day, unloading the burden from the camels’ backs to let them rest, the camp unfolding once again and, finally, the moment for tea, the moment for the bodies to rest and for the souls to find peace.

Lost in the desert, the tomb of the marabout Sidi Naji is a place of pilgrimage for nomads. Legend tells that this holy man possessed as much devotion as the desert has grains of sand. His tomb has the particularity of being very large, which over time has given rise to mythical stories about the existence of a distant age when giants inhabited these lands.

A new joy that at last finds expression

The erg of Chigaga then opens before Alice’s eyes, like a sea of sand scattered with waves of dunes. For her begins the encounter with the kingdom of the most profound simplicity. Where there is nothing other than the sky, a burning blue, and the sand, the colour of vivid gold. Where everything is clear, in a fullness of light. Where everything can be seen because here, thanks to this great emptiness, the eye has all the space it needs to see nothing but the details, the rare plant emerging from the sand, the insect seemingly lost but nevertheless living its life, the singular shape of the crest of a dune. A new joy finds expression, the joy of at last being able to concentrate on the infinitesimal details of the living world.

The desert suddenly gives way to a sea of black stones polished over millennia, from which volcanic spurs rise here and there, offering the walker a magnificent panorama of the surrounding desert. This is Jbel Bani, and this too is Jbel L’Mdor. Wild donkeys can still be encountered in these places, sometimes gazelles, a rare form of life resisting the harshness of nature.

Passing through the village of Tissint becomes an act of homage, for the great explorer Charles de Foucault stayed there for a time in 1884 during his pioneering crossing of Morocco. This young French officer, aged 24, had in fact left France a year earlier on behalf of the Société de Géographie, with the intention of discovering southern Morocco, still very poorly known at the time. He began his journey in June 1883 accompanied by a rabbi. Throughout the journey, he recorded observations and sketches in a tiny notebook. Alice is following in the footsteps of this first great explorer, who ended his life as a hermit in a mountain of the Algerian Sahara.

The caravan often crosses landscapes where one senses that water, once present, no longer comes. One senses that human beings will gradually withdraw even further from these places, which will then inevitably be covered with sand. Here it becomes clear that the climate is changing, and even if we do not really know why, we feel how radical the upheaval of life will be.

“The difference between a place where there is water and another where water is absent is probably the difference between heaven and hell.”

Alice Morrison

Once the expedition reaches the region of the oued Chibka, the world of the desert finally meets that of the sea, the majestic waves of sand preparing to vanish into its bluish reflections. But here on the expedition’s route, in Tan-Tan Province, and just before its end, the still desert landscapes contain one of the finest traces of the pre-Islamic period: a site clearly used for ceremonial purposes, bringing together several dozen tumuli or tombs and monuments made of stones laid out on the ground in the shape of antennae or wings. No one knows the exact meaning of these configurations, which can only really be seen from the sky, but their sacred dimension leaves no room for doubt. More than 7,000 years ago here, a civilisation now vanished and wholly unknown stood alive and addressed the sky.

Along the way, the caravan, like every other caravan before it, stops for a short while beside a water reservoir filled by the rains, which are more frequent here during the year as the ocean shore draws closer. Known as Tanutfi because of their small size, these reservoirs allow the team to refill their containers and water bottles. The camels drink in turn, and the walk resumes its slow and steady rhythm.

A dream that needed to be lived

At last the expedition reaches the fine sandy beaches at the foot of the cliffs. It is the encounter with the Atlantic and its infinite horizon. Fishing boats stand ready to replace the caravans. Alice and her companions have reached the end of their long adventure. Accompanied by their camels, they continue walking through dunes of sand, sometimes still just as imposing and soaring into the distance, but already the scents are no longer the same, the iodine gradually fills the air, breathed in with a welcome delight after those weeks of aridity, all those days spent walking across dried-out ground. For Alice, this first stage will remain engraved within her for ever, because everything she has lived has been lived through every fibre of her body and her being, in an alliance imposed by this confrontation with Nature and its inescapable power.

Of course, it is as an echo of the madness of the present times that this dream took on its full meaning in this fierce and yet so candid choice finally to take the time to watch life flow within its first and, without doubt, final setting: Nature still. To take the time to admire Morocco in its most authentic beauty and richness. To take the time to observe one’s own life, to look at one’s existence from the distance that allows understanding, reconciliation with oneself.

Alice Morrison acknowledges it: she wanted to live an experience with the intention of changing herself, that is to say, to allow the superfluous and everything that no longer had any reason to be to die away within her, and to allow what was calling for growth to grow within her. A dream that needed to be lived.

Crédit Photographie : Abdellah Azizi
www.azifoto.com

An expedition organised by Désert et Montagne Maroc

The route

In Morocco’s mountains and valleys, the shepherd is far more than a figure of rural life. He carries with him ancient knowledge, pastoral traditions and a relationship with the land shaped over generations. Yet as the profession steadily disappears, a little-recognised part of Morocco’s living cultural heritage risks disappearing with it.

Morocco’s cultural heritage is extraordinarily rich, and its splendour is undoubtedly one of the reasons why millions of visitors come to the country each year.

Its crafts — from carpet weaving and pottery to woodwork — its architectural heritage shaped by centuries of history, and the diversity of its regions, each with its own traditions, celebrations, culinary practices, community arts, dances, clothing and jewellery: together, they form a vibrant and welcoming image of Morocco. It is the Morocco most readily encountered by visitors, and one that underpins the strength of a rapidly expanding tourism economy.

Yet this appealing image, however effective it may be in attracting visitors, also has its limitations. It can simplify the country’s cultural identity, reducing it to folklore that can be easily displayed and quickly understood. In doing so, it risks obscuring other dimensions of Moroccan culture whose nature and expression do not lend themselves so readily to the demands of the tourist marketplace.

Behind the great emblems of Morocco’s cultural heritage lie other, lesser-known treasures. Behind the simplified image of heritage staged for visitors from around the world lies an extraordinary diversity that is too often overlooked. And there is a whole population — particularly among younger Moroccans — that remains only partially aware of the breadth and richness of its own cultural heritage.

The shepherd is quietly disappearing from Morocco’s cultural landscape

The shepherd is one of these overlooked cultural treasures.

Walking alone with flocks of sheep or goats through the valleys and mountain ranges of Morocco, the shepherd carries with him a distant chapter of the country’s shared past, from an age when human communities were nomadic and moved across lands and continents.

He is also a living expression of Morocco’s distinctive geography, a country largely shaped by the majestic Atlas Mountains, where shepherds have long been natural inhabitants of the landscape.

Shepherding is part of the ancestry of countless Moroccans whose families came from rural and mountain communities, and who may well find a shepherd somewhere among their forebears.

The shepherd fully belongs to the realm of intangible cultural heritage as defined by UNESCO. Shepherds possess specific knowledge and skills; they have a relationship with the world around them, with nature and with animals. Their way of life expresses respect for nature, and their knowledge of it is passed down within the community. We stand to lose a great deal if we do nothing to restore recognition and value to this profession.

Fatima Zahra Salih
Director of the Master’s programme in Cultural Heritage at the University of Beni Mellal

Today, the shepherd should be recognised, valued and protected within Moroccan society, just as the carpet weaver or the dancer dressed in ceremonial finery has become a recognised figure of the country’s cultural heritage.

Instead, fewer and fewer people are choosing this way of life. Grazing routes available to transhumant herds are shrinking, access to water becomes more difficult with each passing year, shepherds have no recognised social status, and there is little public support for the profession — still less for encouraging younger generations to continue it.

Gradually and almost unnoticed, the shepherd is fading from Morocco’s cultural landscape.

A collective determination to act

Some people in Morocco, however, have become aware of this disappearance and have begun asking how the process might be reversed. Morocco is far from alone: here, as in so many other countries, modernity and the passage of time are gradually eroding entire parts of the cultural fabric of human communities.

Those working to prevent this loss are still few in number, but their commitment is genuine and their approach pioneering.

Among them is the Moroccan NGO We Speak Citizen, already strongly involved in promoting some of the most vulnerable elements of Morocco’s cultural heritage. After opening a House of Oral Heritage in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou near Ouarzazate, and after working to promote the traditions surrounding the argan tree in communities in the hinterland of Agadir, turning its attention to the world of shepherds was a natural next step.

Further reading: The House of Oral Heritage in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou: a first in Morocco

Then there is Anne Alaime, a Belgian woman who has lived in Morocco for almost ten years, in a place where the shepherd remains a central figure: the Aït Bouguemez Valley, surrounded by the high mountains of the Central High Atlas and lying at the foot of the M’Goun massif, which rises to 4,071 metres.

Anne developed a deep attachment to the valley, and from there came an equally natural commitment to preserving its local sheep breed, the Tighaline, particularly well adapted to these mountain environments.

The first step was to establish and develop a carefully selected flock in order to strengthen the qualities inherent in the breed, with expertise provided by the Hassan II Agronomic and Veterinary Institute.

Anne then turned her attention to the distinctive quality of the wool produced by Tighaline sheep. Drawing on the skills of the women of the valley, the aim was to revive the weaving of rugs as they had once been made, using a wool whose quality bears little comparison with that of industrially produced fibres.

Along the way, she discovered the harsh realities of a shepherd’s life and began to understand why so many shepherds discourage their own children from following in their footsteps.

Year after year, the work becomes harder. Almost everything conspires to make the profession increasingly difficult to sustain. Everything seems to be contributing to its gradual disappearance from the Moroccan landscape.

The meeting between Anne and Loubna Mouna, head of the NGO We Speak Citizen, helped transform this concern into a collective determination to act against the disappearance of shepherding, one of the oldest living strands of Morocco’s cultural heritage.

Creating a home for a profession at risk of disappearing

Meeting this challenge first required bringing people together to discover and understand the realities of shepherding and the problems it now faces.

From 3 to 8 May 2023, the first Shepherds’ Days were therefore held at Anne’s project site, in her sheepfold in the village of Imelghas, Azilal Province, at the heart of the Aït Bouguemez Valley.

The gathering brought together people from Morocco’s major cities with an interest in protecting the country’s heritage, academics working on pastoralism and rural life, and, of course, shepherds from the valley itself, alongside others from neighbouring areas including Lake Izourar, the Cathedral Valley and the Ouzighimt Valley.

By all accounts, these days helped lay out a path towards concrete action: restoring the support and resources required if shepherding is to have a sustainable future.

These days confirmed our objective of creating a dedicated space for shepherds and pastoralism. The Shepherd’s House must become a focal point for this ancient profession, which is unfortunately in danger of disappearing.

Loubna Mouna
Director of the NGO We Speak Citizen

The Shepherd’s House is intended to become a multidisciplinary centre devoted to pastoral life.

Its first purpose will be to present the many dimensions of shepherding and offer future visitors a broad understanding of the profession, past and present: its human dimension, its working practices and its traditional knowledge, from transhumance routes to an understanding of plants and the stars.

The centre will also serve as a place for research into the future of shepherding and for supporting the profession as it adapts to change. It will address practical issues faced by shepherds today, including the choice of breeds, improvements in farming practices, the effects of expanding urbanisation and access to water.

A documentary collection will bring together publications and other material relating to pastoralism, while accommodation facilities are also planned to host researchers in residence.

Another important part of the project will be to increase the value of both the meat and wool produced by the Tighaline breed native to the valley, thereby strengthening the economic viability of shepherding in the high mountains.

Rugs woven from this wool are fundamentally different from the mass-produced carpets made with industrial wool that are found in bazaars throughout Morocco.

Likewise, meat from these high-mountain sheep should be capable of reaching consumers throughout the country, particularly in the major cities, at a price that reflects both its distinctive quality — resulting from mountain rearing and transhumance — and the additional production costs inherent in this particular form of livestock farming.

The project team is already considering the creation of an official certification, along the lines of a “mountain-raised” label, which could accompany the meat all the way to the point of sale.

Ultimately, however, perhaps the most important purpose of the Shepherd’s House will be to work directly with shepherds themselves and help sustain their profession, particularly the specific form of shepherding practised in the high mountains.

The difficulties they face are very practical and require equally practical responses. How can supplementary feed be provided for high-mountain flocks during winter? How can water points be created in remote and rugged areas? How can shepherds be given an officially recognised social status that would provide access to insurance and a pension?

Addressing these questions could one day make it possible for young people to choose shepherding again, as has happened in other mountain regions of Europe.

The Shepherd’s House will therefore have an important dual role: advising and supporting shepherds on the ground while also advocating on their behalf with public authorities.

The Shepherd’s House project goes to the heart of the matter

The Shepherd’s House cooperative has now been created. The first flock of Tighaline sheep is already established in Anne’s sheepfold.

The next stages, led by We Speak Citizen, will involve drawing up concrete plans for the future Shepherd’s House and then bringing together the partners needed to develop each component of the project.

Step by step, Loubna, Anne, Fatima Zahra and Younes are making their way along this steep path, determined to give one of Morocco’s living cultural treasures the recognition it deserves.

They know that this first stage has laid solid foundations for what comes next.

The reaction of those who attended the first Shepherds’ Days was itself revealing. Most were Moroccans who had travelled from the country’s large cities. They left smiling, almost exhilarated, as though their encounter with the world of the shepherds had changed something in the way they saw their own country.

This project goes to the heart of something fundamental. Among Moroccans, it has reawakened a buried awareness of their roots and therefore of their long history. In doing so, it has shed new light on the deep connection between their own existence and the land to which they belong.

Anne Alaime

At the end of the days devoted to them, the shepherds themselves were smiling too.

As they returned to the mountainsides and their flocks, perhaps they carried with them a sense of satisfaction — even relief — at having finally been recognised, for the duration of that encounter, as part of the cultural necklace worn by those who had come to meet them: one pearl among the many colours of Moroccan identity.

And with it, perhaps, the quiet but stubborn hope that one day the shepherd will once again be one of the pearls Morocco wears around its neck.

Further reading: The House of Oral Heritage in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou: a first in Morocco