One week in the Atlas, one week of isolation in the mountains, far from the furious Marrakech. Between the high shoulders of the djebel Andghomer, we went through the "oued Tessaout" and the villages of Timlouline, Imchkioun et Tizloutine. It is so nice to encounter the people living there, and to be curious of each other, people who give you some of the apricots they are picking from the trees. Wild landscapes of red and blue mountains, of distant deserts and aridity. The glistening stones, like peaceful jewels. The fossils embedded in the stone, the heart-shaped moss. There was this mountain, round and almost perfect, with a tree and a tent at the top, where a holy man lives and where I wish I had been (although I should learn Berber first)... I can also remember the poor girls and women loaded with wheat, while the men were resting under the trees. Women and girls laughing and hiding from the cameras.
Man, I even saved a little girl! We were resting near a river after a long and difficult walk. The camp was settled and the group was relaxing. I sat near the river and just daydreamed. Some were sunbathing, others sleeping. Then suddenly, people from the nearby village started to run and shout, pointing at the river. The days before we had encountered extremely fierce rains at some point or the other of the day (I remember building the tent in an apocalyptic rain, mud everywhere... that was only funny afterwards...) and I figured it had something to do with a flood. Indeed, suddenly, the water rose, carrying buckets, branches and stuff people had forgotten on the banks of the river, somewhere upstream. I called the couple that was sunbathing on the other side of the river, but it was too late for them. The path where we had crossed the river was almost under water. That’s when I heard the girl scream. She had fallen from the wooden footbridge and, gripping it, was almost submerged. I stayed there, dumb, and seeing no one running, I just ran. I almost fell myself by was able to take the girl out. She then jumped on the opposite shore and started to cry. She was scared alright, but also sad because she had lost a shoe and her buckets. I also wondered if it was right for me, a stranger and a male, to touch her. I dunno. Nobody said anything about it, except another guy from the group made fun of me (saying I never really talked but saved little girls). That was an experience, though.
Like sitting on a hill, above the camp, waiting for the stars.
Hearing the shepherd boys coming down from the mountains, singing, with their goats. The silence, the peace.
There weren’t any planes in the sky, except the satellites, a few shooting stars, and the infinity.
Going back to civilization was not so easy, as usual. I guess I always will need some time away, on my own, in the heart of nature, with a few people around. People with a different perception of reality, different spirituality.
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