We were up bright and early next morning and as our bags were packed into two waiting four by four jeeps we breakfasted quickly on a simple breakfast of flatbreads, eggs and coffee. I sat up front with Abdulkhader our second driver and an acquaintance of Judith’s husband who like Mohammad came from Tineghir in the south-east of the country. Mary and Susan took up what became permanent position in the back seat. Following Judith who drove with our other Mary and her two daughters through the early morning traffic we made our way towards the Atlas Mountains. As we made our way through the awakening streets I began to feel that sense of wonder and excitement that always comes with setting out on a new adventure. Once away from the bustle of Marrakesh the mood changed along with the landscape and we entered another world.
Small Berber hamlets clung to the side of hillsides the ocher houses barely distinguishable from the surrounding clay. Small areas of green denoted the family vegetable patch and we caught glimpses of women on donkeys gathering fodder. Satellite dishes peeped incongruously from some of the mudbrick rooftops. The higher we climbed the more spectacular the views became with some of the mountaintops still covered in snow on that hot sunny day in early May. Women dressed in colorful clothing stood out in the distance as they bent down to gather their crops or walked along lonely mountain roadways carrying home bunch of brushwood on the backs of donkeys. These typical scenes throughout the Middle East are like glimpses into our Biblical past. As we traveled further into the mountains we saw women washing clothes in a river below, pounding the family laundry on large rocks as young boys cool down in the blue ribbons of water that flowed through the narrow strips of greenery on either side of an otherwise barren river valley. A person could be forgiven for forming the impression that Berber women do all the laboring but a closer look into the culture shows that men also play their part which includes among other things the business of buying and selling, building works, ploughing the land and irrigating the crops which are sewn and gathered by the women.
We arrived at Telouet which is situated at a height of over 8,000 feet and stopped outside the Auberge an attractive stone built establishment that serves visitors who come to see the ruins of the old Kasbah. Our preference was to have lunch outside protected from the sun by a goat-hair tent, and we were not disappointed. We relaxed in the shade from where we could see the Kasbah rising above the small village and watched children return home from school. Two local policemen arrived, sat at a table nearby and ordered lunch so we reckoned the food must be good. When it arrived we gathered around admiring the rich colors of the vegetables grown locally and tasting as good as the vegetables of my childhood that my father grew in our back-garden. The flat bread that accompanied our dishes was equally delicious and we washed our meal down with freshly squeezed orange juice. By unanimous consensus we agreed that this was the best meal we had eaten so far throughout our stay and it was also the cheapest.
After lunch we strolled past the local houses up towards the ruins of the Kasbah greeting the local children who played outdoors along our route. The Kasbah was one of many built by the infamous Glaoui family who became the most powerful tribe of the Atlas and played a prominent role in the political life of Morocco during the time of the French Mandate/Protectorate.
Gavin Maxwel who visited the area in the 1960’s in the aftermath of a heavy snowfall which killed thousands of sheep and goats whose bones were picked by circling vultures, kites and raven, described the Kasbah as a “tower of tragedy”. He explored the ruins at night by torchlight with the sound of jackals howling all around him and lost in its maze of rooms discovered manacled bones in the dungeons. The Kasbah had been abandoned in 1956 following the death of T’hami el Glaoui who as Pasha of Marrakesh conspired with the French in the overthrow of Sultan Mohammad V, a member of the Alaouite Dynasty who had occupied the Moroccan throne for over three hundred years. The notorious Moulay Ismael who ruled for fifty-five years from 1672 to 1717 was the second sultan of the dynasty. A cruel and sadistic torturer he built his new capital at Meknes with the labor of Christian captives who were buried within the walls when they died from exhaustion and starvation on the job. As a ruler he ejected the British and Spanish from their Moroccan enclaves and with an army of black slaves did much to increase the area of Morocco under the rule of central government known as the bled el makzen when much of the tribes of the bled el siba or lawless country still held no allegiance to the throne. In the chaos and anarchy that ensued in the years following the death of Moulay Ismael the country was impoverished and succeeding sultans were reduced to leading tax collecting armies against the rebellious tribes of the bled el siba.
In 1893 Moulay Hassan led a tax collecting harka, or burning to the desert oases of the south aiming to restore law and order to Tafilelt, the palm oasis from where his dynasty had sprung and to which unwanted Alaouite troublemakers had traditionally been returned. The sultan was accompanied by all his wives, wazirs and their families, as well as around ten thousand soldiers with camp followers and merchants. The tribes had to provide food for this great horde which extorted not only legal taxation but any bribes it could possibly attain. I can’t help making a comparison here to the ever growing list of charges, taxes and insurances to which we are currently being subjected by our governments with their battery of laws subjecting us to the legalized robbery that leaves similar ravages in its wake. Along with the sultan was the former British officer Sir Harry Maclean who had been seconded to the Sultan’s court as an artillery instructor and was later offered command of the Sultan’s Army. This particular expedition which started in the summer was hampered at every turn by lack of food and water, excessive heat, tribal rebellion and by the time it arrived at Tafilelt coming towards winter the army was fever stricken and transport greatly diminished.
As the Sultan made his return towards Marrakesh via the Atlas Mountains, winter snows began to fall and with it more and more of the camels, mules and horses, weakened from starvation and hundreds of men died daily. Heavy weapons were dropped by the ever weakening men but the main arsenal which included a Krupp assault cannon and its ammunition remained with the army.
Recommended Reading.
Gavin Maxwell: Lords of the Atlas.
