Life in the High Atlas

As soon as we got there late at night, Berber hospitality kicked into action as we were served mint tea and dates dipped in milk. Men, women and children from the village were waiting for us. I sat on colourful carpets with my friend, which is where we eventually slept.

I saw the village in daylight for the first time on the next morning. It was an amazing view! As soon as I opened the large wooden door, I was breathless.

The small village seemed like another world, something out of another century. There were 16 houses built into the mountain itself at a height of 1,780 metres.

Walking through the village felt like stepping into the past. Some women were carrying water from the river, others were cooking in traditional outdoor ovens and all around children were playing in the dirt with no toys to speak of.

They live in a beautiful place, but a hard one to live in, nonetheless.

There is no hot or drinking water, no electricity, and no schools.

Children who want to study have to walk for five hours to get to Tilmi, the next village.

It takes almost four hours for villagers bring water on the backs of their mules. They keep it outside in a container alongside their food; there are no fridges.

A villager died of exposure two weeks before we arrived after he got lost on his way home.

According to the United Nations, extreme weather fluctuations and erosion that causes flooding and landslides have led to a drop in agricultural productivity in the area.

We might tend to focus on the villagers’ lack of basic amenities but, at least for me, when you live with them you can feel their happiness even if they live under difficult conditions.

In their speech, you will find no complexity, no clutter.

Sometimes I wonder; who is better off, really?