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MARRAKECH
I
t’s cold. The sun has dropped behind themountains
and suddenly the temperature inMorocco’s High Atlas
Mountains has plummeted. Forty-six year-old Aisha
Elyakoubi is huddling in the shelter of a small, stone
corale, drinkingmint tea.
Like anyone else at the end of a tough day’s work, she’s
reflecting on how it’s gone. “Today was difficult. It killed us!”
she laughs. “It’s such a long way; it was all uphill. The goats
and sheep didn’t want to stay in one place and eat.”
Of course, by anyone’s standards, this isn’t your average
day’s work – and not only because she has a 230-strong flock
tomanage. Aisha has just spent the past 12 hours trekking
across some of Africa’s most daunting terrain. She and her
family are part way through a journey that theymake twice
a year to ensure that their animals (generally goats, sheep
and camels) get the best land for grazing. The High Atlas
are often snowbound in winter, forcing the nation’s nomadic
tribes to come down to the lower slopes. Then, in the spring,
they head for the higher ground, fresh pastures and cooler
temperatures – as we’re doing now.
Berber nomads like Aisha have beenmaking this same
migration for some 4,000 years, but she will be the last of
her family, and possibly one of the last of her tribe, to do so.
The reason is simple: deforestation and climate change
have altered the landscape here irrevocably. Once-lush
mountains of vegetation, trees and water now produce only
scarce sustenance for the animals. And so this formerly-
bustling route now lies empty of themultitude of camel
trains that once could be found on it. As recently as 1988,
some 410 families and their livestock wouldmake the
annual six-day, 60km schlep fromAit Youl, 2½hours east of
Marrakech, to the plateau that lies before the village of Ait
Ouham. Now only 15 carry out the gruelling trek.
The lack of pasture available, compared with 30 years
ago, means there’s a daily struggle to get to the areas of
grass and water, when (and if) these can be found. This
scarcitymeans that some of the families have now had
to find other ways to feed themselves and their animals.
Which is how our 10-strong group fromAustralia, the USA
and the UK find ourselves here. We are staying with one of
six families that use tourismas a back-up to their herding
income. This is particularly pertinent after a cold winter like
the one the Elyakoubi family has just experienced. Money
can’t replace grazing, but it helps the family to continue in
this way of life just that little bit longer.
Aisha’s family has been taking tourists on themigration
inMay and September for three years. It’s an astonishing,
one-of-a-kind chance to see a vanishing way of life in some
of the world’s most majestic scenery – and don’t get me
started on the stars at night. With no light pollution but our
torches, the stars come right down to themountains.
It’s an experience open to any fit, determined person, but
while our party vary in age from 18 to 70, there’s no doubting
that it’s a trip for those who like a good walk. Indeed, on
the day that Aisha and I are chatting, we have walked for
5½hours uphill over boulders without stopping. At least,
It’s such a longway; it was all uphill. The goats and sheep didn’t want
to stay in one place and eat”
Previous
page,
the
Berber’s
migration
through
theAtlas
Mountains;
far left,
Berber
tribeswoman
Aisha;
near
left;
Aisha
and her son
Mohamad
load a sick
goat onto a
camel;
below
left,
along
the route;
right,
another
herder’s goats
near the
streamof
Tizi-n-Toudat
TRAVELLER
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