It offers an alternative to what travellers may imagine they will find when coming to Morocco — a highly folklorised and reductive image of Moroccan cultural identity — by giving them the opportunity to come closer to the authenticity of these cultural “pearls”.

Bringing these lesser-known cultural worlds to light can also give meaning to a new form of tourism: one that changes the way we look at one another, opens us to other realities of life, gives us the opportunity to reconnect with the roots that lie at the heart of our shared humanity, and encourages us to reflect on each person’s place in today’s chaotic world.

Thank you to all those — women and men from many different backgrounds — who are joining forces to work in this direction.

My thanks as well to the previous reader for a comment that opens the way to an important reflection on the need to reconcile tradition with modernity.

The flocks that once covered the pastures of the Atlas and Anti-Atlas have dwindled dramatically. For almost 35 years, I have accompanied the seasonal migration of Aït Atta nomads as they move northwards from the Anti-Atlas in spring. This transhumance has always taken place alongside that of shepherds from the upper Aït Bouguemez Valley (Aït Keum), who had pasture-sharing agreements with the Aït Atta. They too used to spend the winter in the Saghro, or on the plains of the Drâa, Dadès, Tinghir and Ouarzazate regions.

In years of severe drought, they would travel as far as the Sous plains, and sometimes even farther south along the Atlantic coast — formerly on foot, today mainly by truck — in search of areas where abundant rainfall had produced good grazing.

Thirty-five years ago, around fifty Aït Atta families would migrate every spring towards Lake Izourar and the Tamda plateaus. They were so numerous that at the bivouacs it was sometimes difficult to find enough space for everyone. In May 2023, only six families made the journey, and with much smaller herds. The number of shepherds from upper Aït Bouguemez has fallen by roughly the same proportion, as has that of shepherds from the M’Goun area who move their animals up to the high plateaus and ridges of the Atlas.

Some efforts have nevertheless been made. Members of parliament have helped unlock limited funding for nomads and shepherds; springs have been developed with water-storage facilities and troughs; access tracks have been opened to make it easier to obtain supplies on souk days and can also be used by vehicles in transit. More recently, shepherds have even begun riding Chinese motorcycles. But all of this remains far from sufficient.

The professions of shepherd and livestock breeder need to be formally recognised, supported and modernised.

One of the main reasons why this way of life is being abandoned also concerns women and children. Today, they have a right to live more decent lives than their grandmothers did — women who gave birth while continuing to tend the animals, whose children became little shepherds until adulthood, married, and then continued working for their father until he was no longer able to do so.

Modernisation and a more humane way of life require a complete rethinking of how shepherds and small family livestock breeders organise their lives.

One possible approach, in my view, would be the **pooling of labour** between several livestock owners — perhaps five or six families with small herds — supported by government services and NGOs. Herd supervision could be organised on a rota, with properly trained shepherds who would also be better equipped to care for the animals.

A comparable system exists in the Pyrenees, although there the sheepdogs are a central part of the system. Here, things would have to be organised differently. Introducing trained dogs would probably not work in the same way in Morocco — at least according to the opinion of an experienced Pyrenean shepherd and specialist with whom I discussed the matter.

The quality and value of both the meat and wool produced by these herds are far superior. Recognition through a **“Mountain–Desert” label**, guaranteeing the origin of the animal, could make a real difference. It is widely understood that it is better to eat half as much of a high-quality product whose natural and organic origin is guaranteed, particularly when it is also far better for one’s health.

How many hundreds of thousands of animals were imported from abroad for the last Eid, and at what cost? Yet Moroccans regularly show that they appreciate good-quality meat.

Yes, there is an urgent need to act, because herd numbers have fallen so sharply that the consequences are already considerable. A parallel could also be drawn with the profession of farming in oasis and mountain regions.

How many specialised agricultural training programmes are actually available to young men and women from the desert regions through to the mountain areas? These are precisely the people who could take part in a modernised form of agriculture and livestock farming in which quality enhances the status of the profession, creates genuine added value and provides decent incomes.

The territories of the Atlas, Anti-Atlas, arid regions and desert are immense.

Complementary occupations — beekeeping, food processing, meat drying, cheese-making, crafts, guiding and muleteering — could also make this way of life more attractive. And none of these professions requires five years of university education.

An entire article could be written about the profession of the muleteer, which has completely disappeared from Aït Bouguemez and from parts of both the Atlas and Anti-Atlas.

Twenty years ago, the combination of these occupations with shepherding helped improve living conditions and contributed to the development of a number of valleys, particularly Aït Bouguemez.

Prices have been driven down, and modernity alone is not responsible. The lack of recognition, the absence of support, the failure to properly value these professions, and prices that do not reflect the real worth of the work and the products have all contributed to their decline.