Youssefs Galore

We are currently winding our way through what is known as the “craziest drive in Morocco,” through the High Atlas mountain region. We’re coming from a girls’ college in Ouarzazate, a beautiful small city nestled in the mountains. It’s where most Hollywood films set in the “Middle East” are filmed, including “Gladiator,” “Mission Impossible,” and the Bourne trilogy.

EDIT: Posted in Marrakech, INWI cut out in the High Atlas. 

This post comes much later than I intended due to a lack of internet. But it will contain documentation of the true adventures we’ve had in the past few days. 

Morocco is an incredibly diverse country. As we drove through and stopped at tiny towns dotting the rugged mountainside, we saw a different Morocco than the one we were used to in Rabat. Boxy stone and brick buildings sprouting from the mountainside, raw and sparse stretches of rock desert interrupted by lush swathes of palm groves. Women were much more conservatively dressed, covered head to toe in either black or colored niqabs. Traveling through the south is to go through Amazigh lands (the indigenous people of Morocco). We heard much more Tamazigh (Amazigh language) and its dialects than ever before. We were also told that Arab women don black while Amazigh women are in color. 

Saturday consisted mostly of driving to reach the small stopover town of Midelt on the cusp of the desert. The real fun however, began on Sunday when we began our trek to Merzouga, a village situated between the infamous golden sand dunes and the more mountainous Middle Atlas region. After lunch we switched from tour bus to land rovers. And we drove straight through the desert. Our driver was a particularly young, fabulously crazy man named Youssef. His music tastes were on point and his ability to drift smack in the middle of the desert was even more impressive. There were no roads to be found, and it had rained earlier so we continuously got stuck in the mud and waited eagerly as our drivers concocted a strategy to get us out. Youssef was fearless, speeding through shrubbery and streams of water on what is probably the bumpiest most adrenaline filled drive of my life (so far). I can confidently cross “drifting through the desert” off my life to-do list. 

One of the highlights of Merzouga was visiting a small NGO focused in sustainable development. Among a number of projects, the organization provides literacy training and works in economic empowerment for women. Although many of the women in the region cannot read or write, they are skilled in traditional craft works.The NGO helps them market their skills into small businesses, allowing them to show their crafts at expositions in larger cities and around the world. The women generate an independent income that they can then use however they see fit. This is the kind of economic empowerment that gets me really excited. 

We also road camels in Merzouga, but it was raining and quite cold. One of the camel drivers (also named Youssef) told us that this weather is very rare and we had just missed a large sandstorm, after which usually comes a lot of rain. He was right - it rained all night. The desert ride we had taken into Merzouga was unpassable the next morning so we went by road. 

Sidenote: I named my camel the Witch King of Azmar and Colleen named hers Shadowfax. 

The next leg of our journey…well…

It had rained quite a lot in the past few days and there are a number of small rivers that flow through the region. We had reached one such river, only to discover that the waterway had completely flooded the bridge and the line of people waiting to cross had formed at 4AM in hopes that the river would recede. There was no mechanism to help this process, we just had to wait. 

And we did, for three very entertaining hours. There was mountain climbing, aerial sports, a photo expedition, apple selling, the whole experience had the effect of creating a very communal feeling for me. Both with my friends, the other students on my program, the Moroccan people waiting, and the land. I befriended a lovely clump of desert brush that served as my bodyguard while I bathroomed. A rambunctious gang of local boys put on a gymnastics show, performing backflips and cartwheels barefoot on the rocks. I didn’t feel like a tourist, but like a fellow participant in the waiting game we all were playing. Each one of us was at the mercy of nature, at the whim of this coursing river regardless of who we were or where we were from. This brief togetherness was validated when we finally crossed the river (the bridge was still flooded) and the packs of people at either cheered us on and waved goodbye. 

Navigating Morocco by bus offers an interesting vantage point by which to explore everything from geography to societal constructs. Our academic director mentioned an old French colonial classification of Moroccan lands: “useful Morocco” and “useless Morocco.” The great stretches of desert and majestically crumbling mountain that we passed through are, by their standards, completely useless. Such a blatant classification attests to the purely exploitative nature of colonialism that we are all familiar with. Never mind the extraordinary natural beauty or the remarkable innovations in irrigation made by the people inhabiting this areas. And there’s no need to take into account the rich Amazigh history woven through the valleys, engraved on the mountains and flowing through the rivers. 

The High Atlas is incredible. My dream has now become to come and live in one of the crumbling villages affixed to the mountainside with a future husband. The entire drive through the highest points in the country felt like driving through a storybook.

I'm really behind on blogging - we've been in Marrakech for the past two days totally killing it so look out for that, now off to dinner and tomorrow Essaouira!