3 September, 2014
Back in the real world,
leaving the film stars behind, there were mud bricks to be made.
That’s work enough in itself but every three years a mud-brick
dwelling has to be re-rendered, otherwise the elements will reduce it
to rubble.
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| Mud bricks waiting to be used |
I often thought of the
prayer that’s said when ashes are placed on your forehead on Ash
Wednesday: Remember that though art dust and unto dust thou shalt
return. It’s sad but not surprising that wherever they can
afford it, people are abandonning their mud-brick homes and moving to
brick and concrete ones.
We started up the Valley of
the Roses and the Dades Gorge. In this long stretch of oasis, roses
are harvested in May for their oil. It must be quite a sight before
harvest, sadly only a few rogue blooms in view for me.
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| Valley of the Roses .... and a few kasbahs |
Not without reason, this
route is also known as the Road of a Thousand Kasbahs. I didn’t
count but it seems a fair enough estimate!
At the start of our drive up
this gorge we first called into another kasbah – a real one, unlike
where I was staying at Ouarzazate that was too luxurious for words.
We had a drink and ordered lunch to be had on our return. To reach
this kasbah we drove over what Hami referred to as piste. I’d only
ever heard the word in reference to snow skiing. Here, it was the
gravel terrain with no road, sometimes, but not always, wheel tracks
criss-crossing the ground.
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| Love it! Gorgeous + tough! - old car at the kasbah |
Whenever I asked Hami how he
knew where to go, he’d tap his head and say “GPS”! He didn’t
look at a map for the whole trip. I doubt he even had one. Once, in
Asilah, he checked with another driver which was the right turn-off
for the coast road. That was it!
During this drive we saw a
tiny women’s cooperative, this time for weaving – just the one
loom, for clothing fabric rather than carpet. Out of the photo, to
the left, was an old Singer treadle sewing machine. A working machine
for these women, a hall table for me at home.
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| Fabric weavers |
Sadly, we had no common
language. The woman in front was very shy while the woman at the rear
seemed much more an extrovert and had a brilliant, almost laughing,
smile … but you will have to imagine its warmth. While they agreed
to having their photo taken, they didn’t want their beautiful faces
seen.
At an old kasbah we ran into
location scouts. No wonder films cost so much to make. Surely two or
three people could have done the work of the ten we bumped into?!
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| Oven corner of an old kasbah kitchen |
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| In the kasbah courtyard. Will we see this well in a film one day? |
We so take taps for granted.
As a tourist I experienced (mostly) western plumbing. But Moroccans
still rely on wells too.
On and on we went, up the
gorge: up meaning along and up meaning ‘up’. Because when we
stopped and looked back ……. it was stunning. The Moroccans have
certainly achieved some amazing feats of engineering in building
roads in the mountains.
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| At the top of Dades Gorge |
It was back to the
(functioning, as opposed to ‘heritage’) kasbah for late lunch.
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| Late lunch at the kasbah |
I’d asked for small. What
was served was small by Moroccan standards only, it was still three
courses! Hami showed me how to eat Moroccan style. No knives and
forks. Always, mountains of bread are put on the table, a flattish
round loaf, a bit lighter in texture and ever so slightly more raised
than the Turkish bread we have at home. The bread is torn off in
small portions, split, then food is taken from the tagine with the
bread and eaten almost bite-sized sandwich style.
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| A room for entertaining |
On a later occasion, eating
alone so I couldn’t be seen!, I gave it a try. It works very well.
But ….. to eat the amount of meat and vegetables that would be
served as a meal at home, you have to eat an awful lot of bread. I
gave up and went back to cutlery!
