I did it for the camels.....I mean the Dromadaires! - Part 2

Continued from Part I - Oct. 16-18, 2009

Although the children did not allow us to take their photo, I was still rather intrigued. After conversing with Hamza and asking many questions, we learned that even though it was Saturday the children were returning home from school. Many of the children from the rural villages travel as long as 2 hours to get to school each day and another 2 hours back home. Because they spend so much time in transit to and from the classroom, school hours are generally 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM Monday thru Saturday. While we were fortunate to be driving through these rural villages on a very warm weekend, the weather conditions do vary throughout the Atlas mountains. These villages experience extremely dry and hot temperatures but also rain and snow with low temperatures. The children make the 2 hour trek to and from school even in the most undesirable conditions. Some of the children only have flip flops but still walk to school in the cold and snowy conditions just to enhance their education for 4 short hours each day. Occasionally we would see a bicycle pass by with 3 children squeezed on to the seat and handle bars. Despite what we may view as an inconvenient method of getting to school, these children seemed oblivious and laughed jovially as they walked home.



After piling back into the van, we traveled further into the Middle Atlas mountains where we approached a large reservoir. Years ago the land flooded killing thousands of Moroccans and destroying their kasbahs. The reservoir was built as flood control so many of the natives could rebuild their ravaged homes.



Just past the reservoir, we stopped to view a gorgeous waterway running through the mid Atlas mountains. The river, which I think was called Wadi Shkel, was distinctly lined with palm trees for miles and miles.
There were 2 young boys selling jewelry and camels made of palm leaves. Michal and I met a 20 year old guy named Siad while viewing the river. Siad spoke some English and was eager to learn more about us so he asked lots of questions. One specific question directed at me that definitely made me smile was, "Are you 22 years old?" I know....I know....I don't actually look 22 but a girl can still grin at the thought.


We arrived in Merzouga, near the Algerian border, around 4:00 PM and quickly got ready for the camel ride to our campsite in the Sahara desert. We were each given a colored head scarf to be tied in the traditional way. While each female received headscarves in vivid colors such as orange, yellow, green, pink, and lime, the traditional and only color available for males is blue.


With our turbans in place (thanks to our guide Hamza), we each mounted a dromadaire and began the 1 hour 20 minute ride in to the sunset. Mohammed was the camel herder and lead us deep in to the vibrant burnt orange dunes of the Sahara. We were probably sitting about 10 feet above the ground as our spitting, burping camels slowly carried us onward. This was my first experience riding a camel so my adrenaline was pumping and my excitement level very high. It was so amazing to be trotting into the desert with only the sounds of the camels clopping in the sand. About half way in to our trek, the sun had set and we were left riding in complete darkness. Even the blackest surroundings were illuminated by the shining stars above, which made it impossible not to fixate on them as they twinkled so brightly in the peaceful night. I quickly realized that I don't spend enough time on a regular basis admiring the stars that glisten every day and light up our nights. It was truly magical!!!

We soon reached our campsite and one by one we dismounted from our camels with the help of Mohammed. First the camel is shushed and calmed by the herder. Next, the camel kneels on his front 2 legs jolting the rider forward. I had been advised to stabilize myself and maintain a firm grip on my saddle during this process so I was prepared. Then the camel squats on his back legs so that he is completely in a sitting position on the ground. I hopped off and started walking towards our campsite. In the sand, it felt as if I was walking on small, hard rounded rocks. I soon realized that these were not rocks but an over abundance of camel poop left behind from previous treks.































Our campsite was rather quaint with several Berber tents set up forming a square with an open area of sand in the middle for the low table and stools that we used for dinner. Mohammed prepared our dinner of chicken and vegetable tagine, soup, bread, fruit, and Moroccan tea, we dined by a small lamp and starlight. After dining on tasty food, conversing about random English slang with Hamza (specifically "Sugar Daddy" thanks to me), and gut laughing until our bellies hurt, Mohammed and a little Berber boy around 10 years old serenaded us with drumming. This was a very authentic experience and the music was really cool. Around 10:30 PM we headed to bed in our camel-haired tent lined with Moroccan Berber rugs and blankets. The 6 of us stayed in the same tent and slept side-by-side.









Our wake up call came early and we were up and moving at 5:45 AM before sunrise. I climbed half way up a soaring sand dune to reflect on the experience and watch the sunrise. The sand of the Sahara is the softest most delicate sand that I've ever touched. Of course I had an empty bottle with me to collect a bit of sand to save as memory of the adventure. By 7:00 AM, we were once again trotting across the Sahara on our way back to reality and the van that would shelter us for the next 10 hours. The morning trek during sunrise was the most striking part of the desert ride. We were immersed in a sea of sand for miles and miles as the sun slowly crept upward to ignite a rich vibrant path for our journey back. It was striking to look slightly to the right and see the shadows of 6 camel riders ambling along in the sand.



Back to normal land, we quickly ate breakfast, changed clothes, and were on our way back to Rabat. After driving 6 hours, we stopped in a part of the Middle Atlas mountains to feed the Barbary Apes that run wild through the forests. It was amazing that they would come up and grab the food out of my hand. Let me clarify that food was actually oranges. We tried feeding them bread but they wanted no part of this because they had all eaten. Oranges are considered dessert and dessert is all they wanted. The weekend was unforgettable and an experience that will stay with me forever. The people that surrounded me helped make this an extraordinary adventure. This was my 1st travel weekend in Morocco and I could not have imagined a better way to jumpstart this incredible journey!

I did it for the camels.....I mean the Dromadaires! - Part 1

I did it for the camels.....I mean the Dromadaires! - Part 1
Oct. 16-18, 2009


It's funny how certain people are drawn to each other and how friendships blossom. On Day 1 it was clear that our 1st weekend trip would be the camel trek and camping adventure in the Sahara and that the gang would consist of me, Allison, Jen, Dev, Michal, and Lynne. At 2:30 PM on Oct. 16, we all loaded up in a van to begin our 10 hour ride to Merzouga. Our guide was a charming guy named Hamza...probably in his early 30s. He was from a small rural village near the Sahara. Hamza traveled 11 hours by bus just to greet us at the CCS home-base only to then ride with us in the van back to the Sahara. Our driver and the owner of the van was Siad (pronounced Sayeed) from Sale, which is a town near Rabat. Hamza attended a university in Morocco and studied International Law and Computer Science. In Morocco, studying at a public university is free so many natives pursue additional education after high school. With the unemployment rate at an extreme high, many of the natives cannot find work and are forced to pursue "odd jobs" for income. Hamza is no exception. The village where he lives doesn't really have jobs that would enable him to utilize his education in International Law and Computer Science. Therefore, he provides weekend tours and camel treks a few times per month during the warm season. Hamza speaks English well but of course has trouble at times. He kept a tattered notebook by his side at all times during the trip to reference certain English terms, to draw and spell out pictures and words, and to notate any new words or phrases that we taught him. It was really cool to learn from him and also teach him new things at the same time.

We more than prepared for this trip by making several trips to the Acima and Marjane to buy lots of snacks and water for the road. Siad had a wide selection of CDs with a mix of international music. The first 4 songs played went from "Let It Be" to "Holiday" to "Sexual Healing" to "We Are The World." I was suddenly overwhelmed with an amazing feeling of gratitude and happiness. I couldn't believe that I was finally following the volunteer dream that I had always wanted to pursue and impacting the lives of so many children. When "We Are The World" came on, I absolutely lost it! With tears flowing, I thought about the words to the song and had such a feeling of pride....proud that I have been blessed with so many wonderful people in my life that believed in me and knew that I would come to Morocco and serve as a shining light to the children in need. Also, very proud to have 5 other incredible people surrounding me in that van that made sacrifices to come to Morocco and volunteer to help make this world a better place. That was an unforgettable moment and one to be embraced.



After a 3 1/2 hour drive, we stopped in a town called Azrou to stay the night at a place called Auberge Du Dernier Lion De L'Atlas....very much like a Bed & Breakfast. The inn is actually the temporary training site and home-base for the Peace Corps group from Morocco. There was a room dedicated to training and many of the Peace Corps volunteers were staying in the inn that weekend. The inn had traditional Moroccan decor with beautifully tiled walls in a variety of colors. The salon was decorated with Berber rugs, ornate mirrors, and low seating. A perfect gathering place for friends and strangers to converse. We were served a traditional Moroccan meal around 8:00 PM and everyone soon faded into their rooms for an early bedtime. We all gathered for breakfast around 7:00 AM and then headed out to the van to continue our drive to the Sahara. Just before leaving, a rather humorous man came trotting by on a donkey. Michal grabbed her camera to snap a photo and the man became a bit disgruntled. Once she offered him a Dirham, he was all hers and even posed for the photo. Taking pictures of Moroccans is not usually accepted unless you request permission. In many cases, you are expected to pay something to the person once the photo has been taken. Generally 1 or 2 Dirham....around .15 to .30 cents in US currency. Many of the Moroccans feel that tourists will exploit them and abuse their culture through media and photography. Others just want the opportunity to gain a Dirham or two.

We stopped in the Middle Atlas Mountains to visit a nomad tent. There we met a little girl named Ghizlan....probably around 7 years old. I found myself searching for the parents of this beautiful little girl....they were no where to be found. The little girl still welcomed us with a look of uncertainty and as voyeuristic tourists we barged on to her land. Her home was a woven tent called a khaima, which is a tent made of woven goat-hair or camel-hair used by the nomads of the Sahara and semi-nomadic people of the Atlas. I was rather amazed at this abode....approximately 600 square feet in size and fully stocked with food, blankets, pots, bottles and more. Animals ran freely around the tent....cats, dogs, turkeys, and 4 tiny baby goats.


With Hamza by my side to interpret, I asked Ghizlan if I could have my picture taken with her. She mumbled, "no problem" in Arabic. Several of us offered to compensate her for allowing us to invade her home but Hamza insisted that he would take care of the monetary gift on our behalf. We waved goodbye to Ghizlan and thanked her.





We soon approached a small village town where we stopped for water and a WC break. Connected to the gas station was a decent looking restaurant. I noticed some smoke coming from an open kitchen attached to the front of the restaurant and immediately engulfed a very fragrant scent. Of course I was curious and peaked my head inside to find a man cooking lamb and chicken tagines. A tagine is a type of dish found in North African cuisines of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia, which is named after the special pot in which it is cooked. The traditional tagine pot is formed entirely of heavy clay which consists of 2 parts: a base unit which is flat and circular with low sides, and a cone or dome-shaped cover that rests inside the base during cooking. Tagines in Moroccan cuisine are slow-cooked stews braised at low temps, resulting in tender meat with aromatic vegetables and sauce. The man saw me and motioned for me to come in to the kitchen but I said, "La Shukran," (No Thanks) and darted away. As I was walking off, I heard the man yell, "Hshuma!" In English this means shame on you. Moroccans love to share their food and tea so it's considered rude to turn down an invite. After hearing him say that, I decided to go back and the man was very generous. He lifted the top of each tagine so I could see what was cooking while mumbling something in Arabic that I couldn't understand. I'm sure he was describing each dish and the ingredients. I asked the man if I could take a photo and offered him 1 Dirham. He smiled kindly and said, "Free for you." So in his best stance, he posed for the photo. I thanked the man, shook his hand and he leaned in to kiss me on each cheek (standard in Moroccan culture). As I walked away, he patted me on the behind. I couldn't help but laugh and simply walked away shaking my head and climbed back in the van.





As we journeyed deeper in to the mountains, it became very obvious that we were far from urban living. There were lots of donkeys and mules pulling carts and carrying people thru the dusty roads. It was amusing to come to a stop sign because you would not only see cars stopped but sometimes the donkeys and their drivers would be stopped beside or behind the cars. A funny sight and one that you don't see every day. We passed people scattered along the side of the road with big jugs sitting on top of a pile of rocks. None of us were really sure what was in these jugs and Hamza informed us that it was honey. A pile of rocks stacked very close to the road meant that someone had already claimed the space for their honey business. Even the most rural communities can't escape competitive business.


Soon we reached the High Atlas mountains....soaring approximately 10,000+ feet high. Further along we came to a piece of the mountains covered with blankets of green bushes. Surprisingly we learned that these were tiny little rosemary bushes. Of course the culinary side of me became overly thrilled at the thought of miles and miles of free rosemary for all to grab. We parked to take some photos of the rosemary and Hamza took off down the slippery slope of dirt and gravel to gather rosemary for all of us.....the smell was so fresh!


After loading back in to the van and driving a bit further, we stopped to view a kasbah. A kasbah is a fortified house with a single crenellated tower, or sometimes 4 crenellated towers with one at each corner of the walls. Hamza lead us in and as soon as we flung open the door to the deserted kasbah, we saw a donkey standing there. The 1st level of a kasbah is generally used for the animals with the 2nd level used for the family. This was an abandoned kasbah but was being used to store a single donkey. Outside the kasbah near the country road, a group of children came walking by. Probably in the age range of 8-13 and both boys and girls. They stopped and just stood there to stare at us. We said hello and asked Hamza if we could take their picture. He spoke in Arabic to the children to ask them if we could take their photo and they all said no and walked away. Just another example of the privacy within the Moroccan culture and in this case practiced at a very young age.

To Be Continued......