Article written in 2019, revised and expanded in 2026.

The Green March of 1975: a few key facts

Following Morocco’s independence in 1956, the Kingdom continued the process of recovering territories that had remained under Spanish administration. Tarfaya was reintegrated into Morocco in 1958, followed by Sidi Ifni in 1969. The question of Western Sahara, which was still administered by Spain, nevertheless remained unresolved within the wider process of decolonisation.

Morocco brought its claims before international institutions and asked the International Court of Justice to rule on the ties that had existed between the territory and the Kingdom before Spanish colonisation.

In its advisory opinion delivered on 16 October 1975, the Court recognised the existence of legal ties of allegiance between the Sultan of Morocco and some of the tribes of Western Sahara.

It nevertheless concluded that the evidence examined did not establish a territorial sovereignty of such a nature as to prevent the application of the principle of self-determination.

In the hours that followed, King Hassan II announced the organisation of a peaceful march towards the Sahara. Its departure was set for 6 November 1975. According to Morocco’s official chronology, 350,000 volunteers, including 35,000 women, took part in the Green March.

The appeal prompted a remarkable mobilisation. In cities, villages and rural communities, men and women registered to join the delegations formed in every province.

In Ouarzazate, as elsewhere, many felt that history had suddenly summoned them.

In Ouarzazate, the call to join the Green March

The provinces of southeast Morocco were widely represented. Participants from Ouarzazate, Errachidia, Tinghir and Zagora joined the other provincial delegations travelling south.

Mouloud Jghou, Abderrahmane Moussa and Fatoma Ghouate, all three from Ouarzazate, were among them. Decades later, each retained deeply personal memories of the days during which the Green March was being prepared.

Abderrahmane Moussa was 25 years old in 1975. He was working as a tour guide at the time. He remembers a genuine collective fever taking hold of Ouarzazate: conversations, registrations and preparations all seemed to revolve around a single idea—taking part in the March. He registered as a volunteer and joined the provincial delegation.

Mouloud Jghou was living in France at the time. The preparations were being reported in the press and on radio and television. Like many Moroccans living abroad, he initially followed the event from a distance. But the emotion stirred by the announcement of the March was so powerful that he decided to return to Morocco and register as a participant as soon as he arrived.

Fatoma Ghouate, who was born in the Kasbah of Taourirte, also answered the call. Her decision was not the result of long reflection. She remembers being carried by the momentum of the moment and by the conviction that she should take part, alongside the men, in an event that was mobilising the entire country.

Delegations from across Morocco

Participants were grouped according to their province of origin. Each delegation was identified by a letter: the Errachidia delegation carried the letter A, while Ouarzazate carried the letter B, according to the memories of the three witnesses.

This organisation gave the Green March its distinctive form. The movement did not begin in one single place. It emerged simultaneously in every region of the country.

Groups formed in cities, oases, valleys and rural communities. They then joined the main roads before gradually merging into a much larger whole. Like streams flowing down from territories far removed from one another, the delegations converged on the south until they formed a single human river.

The volunteers from Ouarzazate therefore set off in their own convoy, with their own leaders, organisation and identifying symbol

From Ouarzazate to Tarfaya: the convoys’ journey

The convoys from Ouarzazate and Errachidia travelled through Agadir, Tiznit and Guelmim before continuing towards Tarfaya. To prevent congestion, several hours separated the passage of the different groups.

The trucks stopped regularly outside towns and villages. Throughout the journey, local inhabitants gathered along the roads to greet the participants. Fatoma particularly remembers the crowds cheering the convoys and sometimes sharing part of their provisions with the marchers.

As the trucks moved forward, the landscapes changed and the distances grew longer. But the journey itself had already become part of the event. The songs, flags and gatherings encountered in every locality gave participants the feeling that they were being carried forward by a mobilisation extending far beyond their own delegation.

Tarfaya was the final major stage before the border. A vast network of camps had been established around the town to receive the volunteers arriving from every part of Morocco.

According to the witnesses, the camp allocated to the province of Ouarzazate stood beside the ocean, approximately seven kilometres from the centre of Tarfaya. The Royal Armed Forces and the civilian administration had established an organisation there to receive, supply and supervise the participants.

Life in the Tarfaya camp

The volunteers were divided into sections, each placed under the responsibility of one participant. Mouloud Jghou was put in charge of a group of 114 people from the province of Ouarzazate.

He had to keep the list of members up to date, organise the distribution of supplies and respond to the everyday needs of his section. In his memory, provisions were shared without difficulty and everyone contributed, in their own way, to the life of the group.

Abderrahmane also recalls the importance of the supplies: water, bread, vegetables, fish and dates were transported to the camps. He remembers military aircraft sometimes dropping sacks of bread over the camp.

Fatoma describes a collective life that quickly took shape beneath the tents. The women built traditional earthen ovens in which to bake bread. She would go out to gather firewood and sometimes returned with meat and dates given to her by Moroccan soldiers.

She remembers with amusement that she ate a great deal during her stay and gained a noticeable amount of weight. Behind the immense scale of the national mobilisation, her account reveals a very concrete reality: gathering wood, preparing meals, baking bread and sharing provisions.

As the days passed, the camp became a temporary city. Groups arriving from different regions brought their own songs, dances and traditions with them. Amazighs, Arabs and Sahrawis came together in shared celebrations in which every delegation revealed something of its home territory.

For the three witnesses, the Green March was therefore not only a movement towards a border. It was also the experience of an immense community, made up of people who did not know one another but were learning to live, wait and act together.

On 6 November 1975, marching towards the border

On the evening of 5 November, King Hassan II addressed the participants gathered in the south, as well as the Moroccan population as a whole:

The following day, the delegations left their camps and advanced towards Tah and the border. The participants marched without weapons, carrying Moroccan flags and copies of the Quran.

From this point onwards, the three testimonies become particularly valuable. They do not offer a detached overview of the event, but reveal what each person saw, heard or felt from within the crowd.

In Abderrahmane’s memory, Ouarzazate moves to the front

Abderrahmane brings back to life some of the moments he experienced in the camp:

Abderrahmane remembers that the Errachidia convoy was initially positioned ahead of the Ouarzazate convoy. Detonations heard in the distance reportedly caused the marchers at the front to hesitate, as they feared that the Spanish forces were firing at them.

According to his account, the Ouarzazate delegation then moved past them and took the lead, followed by the delegation from Kenitra. Its members advanced towards the barbed wire marking the border and were among the first to cross it.

This remains the memory of a participant who stood at the heart of the movement. It should be received as such: not as a military or administrative report, but as the direct memory of a man carried forward, alongside the others, by the intensity of the moment.

Tamimounte, a woman remembered by the marchers

Abderrahmane also associates this moment with the name of a woman from the Ouarzazate delegation: Fadma Mohamed Taberhout, known as Tamimounte, whom he remembers as coming from the village of Iguernane.

In his memory, the woman, then in her forties, climbed a structure near the border and replaced a Spanish flag with the Moroccan flag.

As he tells it, her action expressed the exhilaration driving the marchers and the desire of each participant to stand at the forefront. The memory of Tamimounte is one of the most singular fragments of his testimony. Her identity, her life and her role would now deserve a dedicated investigation, comparing this memory with the accounts of her family and any surviving archives.

Mouloud remembers the soldiers on the hills

Mouloud remembers walking for approximately fourteen kilometres through the border area. He recalls seeing Spanish soldiers and military vehicles on the higher ground, although no direct confrontation took place.

Mouloud estimates that he remained in the area for seven or eight days. As is often the case with accounts recorded several decades after an event, the exact duration and sequence of the different stages would need to be compared with archival records.

This chronological uncertainty does not diminish the value of his memory: that of a long wait beyond the barbed wire, in an area under the surveillance of the Spanish forces.

Fatoma remembers women marching alongside the men

Fatoma emphasises the presence of women at the forefront of the March. They advanced and crossed the border alongside the men, sharing the same conditions and uncertainties.

She particularly remembers the nights, when lights and explosions would suddenly illuminate a vast part of the sky. She describes them as fireworks launched by the Spanish soldiers. Their appearance sometimes caused fear among the participants.

One such incident is said to have caused a pregnant marcher to go into labour. According to Fatoma, the woman named her son Massir, derived from massira, the Arabic word for “march”.

Like the story of Tamimounte, this birth belongs to the parallel memory of major historical events: a memory made up of names, gestures and individual destinies that official accounts do not always preserve.

After crossing the barbed wire and reaching the place assigned to them, the participants reportedly gathered to pray and give thanks to God.

Three voices from the Green March preserved on video

Mouloud Jghou, Abderrahmane Moussa and Fatoma Ghouate do not describe exactly the same Green March. Each has preserved their own images of the event.

Mouloud remembers his hurried return from France, his responsibility for a section of marchers and the advance beyond the barbed wire. Abderrahmane recalls the feverish preparations in Ouarzazate, the movement of the convoys and the act attributed to Tamimounte. Fatoma remembers the inhabitants lining the roads, the ovens built in the camp, the provisions that were shared and the women marching alongside the men.

Their memories nevertheless come together in their evocation of a collective movement of exceptional scale. Behind the figure of 350,000 participants lie just as many personal experiences, many of which have only ever been passed down within families.

The video produced by Sudestmaroc.com allows us to rediscover the voices, faces and intonations of the three witnesses. It is not merely an illustration accompanying the article: it is its central archive.

These three residents of Ouarzazate took part in an event that became a major chapter in Morocco’s contemporary history. By recording their words, the purpose is not only to commemorate the Green March, but also to preserve what sweeping historical narratives sometimes allow to disappear: the tangible memories of the women and men who lived through them.

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The name of the Glaoua once echoed across the mountains and valleys of south-eastern Morocco. Although that echo has now largely faded, it remains deeply embedded in the collective memory of these territories and permanently inscribed in the history of the country.

The Glaoua are an Amazigh tribe established around Telouet, on the southern slopes of the High Atlas. Their ruling lineage, the El Mezouari El Glaoui, lived in a modest kasbah sometimes known as the “little sparrow’s nest”. According to local tradition, the small bird was associated with providence and regarded as a sign of good fortune.

Yet this modest bird’s nest would eventually be transformed into an eagle’s eyrie.

From the second half of the 19th century onwards, the El Glaoui family embarked upon a long and arduous ascent towards power and wealth. From one generation to the next, its representatives established themselves as powerful servants of the Makhzen, Morocco’s system of government in which the central authority delegated extensive powers to provincial governors known as caïds.

In the case of the El Glaoui clan, this delegation of authority would eventually reach extraordinary proportions. Over the years, its leading members became known as the Lords of the Atlas. In times of peace as in times of war, the caïds of the Glaoua, like the heads of several other great caïdal families, became powerful masters who exercised authority over vast territories and the people who inhabited them.

The caïd: between Makhzen representative and tribal chief

The term Makhzen has carried different meanings according to the period. It may refer to the Sultan’s government, but also, more broadly, to the system through which authority was exercised over a country long composed of tribes and territories fiercely attached to their autonomy.

The word Makhzen derives from the Arabic مخزن, makhzan, meaning a place of storage or a storehouse, from the verb خزن, khazana, “to store”. The English word magazine ultimately shares the same Arabic origin.

The term originally referred to the place where a village community stored its food supplies. From the 17th century onwards, it came to designate the Treasury—the place where taxes were collected—and, by extension, those responsible for administering it. Over time, the name was applied to the entire governmental apparatus serving the Sultan.

The Sultan was regarded as Amir al-Mu’minin, the Commander of the Faithful. Around him, the Makhzen was organised through a central government composed of viziers, or ministers, and numerous officials recruited from sharifian families claiming descent from the Prophet, as well as from families of scholars, merchants and warriors.

These officials were responsible for maintaining order, collecting taxes and acting as arbiters, particularly in disputes involving land and property.

In rural areas, authority was generally entrusted to a caïd appointed by the Sultan and assisted by a khalifa and several sheikhs.

The caïds received extensive powers from the central government. In practice, however, the Makhzen’s direct political, military and fiscal authority varied considerably from one region to another.

Moroccan history is often described through the opposition between the Bled el-Makhzen, the territories where the Sultan’s government exercised effective authority, and the Bled es-Siba, where tribes retained a greater degree of political and military autonomy.

This distinction should not be understood as a rigid division between an organised state and a “land of anarchy”. In many mountain and rural regions, the Sultan’s power was negotiated, intermittent or exercised through alliances, while his religious legitimacy and his role as an arbiter could still be recognised.

The expression Bled es-Siba, widely employed and simplified by French colonial historiography, therefore describes a far more complex political reality than the frequently used translation “land of anarchy” would suggest.

This situation often led the Sultans to appoint as caïd a man who already possessed recognised authority among the population concerned—generally the head of the dominant tribe.

Some caïds acquired immense power in the history of the country. Many fought against one another, while an even greater number made the accumulation of wealth their principal concern.

The Caïd the word derives from the Arabic قائد, qāʾid, meaning “commander”. In Morocco, it referred to a local governor appointed by the Sultan who could combine administrative, fiscal, judicial and military powers, while sometimes also serving as the leader of his own tribe.

Telouet, a meeting place and strategic centre of trade

A large part of the High Atlas once belonged to the regions where the Makhzen’s direct authority remained limited or depended upon alliances with local powers.

The immense Atlas mountain chain created a formidable natural barrier between Morocco’s imperial cities in the north and the pre-Saharan regions to the south—a world of mountains, valleys, rocky plateaux, oases and desert dunes. These vast territories had been inhabited for centuries by Amazigh communities.

On the southern side of the High Atlas, at an altitude of approximately 1,870 metres, lies the small village of Telouet.

Its position made it strategically important. For centuries, commercial caravans crossed the mountains through the Telouet Pass, known as Tizi n’Telouet or Tizi n’Glaoua, at an altitude of around 2,400 metres.

The route through the Telouet Pass may already have formed an important crossroads during the Phoenician and Punic periods. It was known to merchants, geographers and travellers as the Gate of Deren, or the Gate of the Atlas.

The pass provided one of the principal routes between northern Morocco and the territories of the Drâa, Tafilalet, Dadès and Todgha, continuing towards the distant Bilad al-Sudan, the historic Arabic name given to the lands south of the Sahara.

Telouet was therefore not merely an isolated mountain village. It was a place of passage, exchange and commerce, where populations and political ambitions met.

Punic: the adjective describes what relates to the ancient Carthaginians. It derives from the Latin punicus or poenicus, itself derived from Poenus, meaning “Carthaginian”, and ultimately from the Greek Phoînix, which could refer to both the Phoenicians and the Carthaginians.

Read also : Telouet: Cradle and Stronghold of the Lords of the Atlas

The first steps of an Atlas tribe

The Glaoua—Igliwa in Amazigh—are a sedentary Amazigh tribe belonging to the Tachelhit-speaking area. Their historic territory extends across both sides of the main High Atlas ridge, particularly around Telouet, the Rdat Valley and the Asif Mellah.

The populations of this part of the High Atlas have been associated, according to different historical classifications, with the great Masmouda and Sanhaja Amazigh groupings. These affiliations should nevertheless be understood within a long history shaped by alliances, migrations and tribal recompositions.

The ruling lineage of the tribe was known as El Mezouari. The name derives from the Amazigh term amezwaru, meaning “the first”, the one who goes before, or the person who leads a particular function or community.

The El Glaoui had long been regarded as a Makhzen family serving the Alaouite dynasty, at least since the reign of Sultan Moulay Ismail, who ruled Morocco from 1672 to 1727.

One of their earliest ancestors mentioned in historical accounts was a man named Abdessadek. At that time, however, the lineage possessed neither great fame nor exceptional power.

It was not until the first half of the 19th century that the family’s ascent towards power began.

The first step was taken by Hammou Amezouar El Glaoui, better known by the Arabic name Ahmed. His people appointed him amghar, or sheikh, making him the leader of the tribe around Telouet.

At the time, however, Telouet remained under the authority of the powerful caïd El Hachemi Zemrani of Demnate.

El Hachemi Zemrani belonged to a lineage associated with the Banu Maqil and originated from the douar of Zemrane, north-east of Marrakech. As a Makhzen caïd, he claimed longstanding authority over several High Atlas tribes, including the Glaoua, Ghoujdama and Fetouaka. His influence extended as far as the Dadès Valley.

The Banu Maqil were Arab tribal groups that entered the Maghreb during the medieval period. Their different branches gradually spread across southern Algeria, Mauritania, Western Sahara and Morocco.

The modest Sheikh Ahmed married the daughter of another tribal leader, Ahmed Ben El Haj Mohamed, from the neighbouring village of Taghennouste. The marriage improved his social position, but it was above all Telouet’s strategic location that enabled him to increase his influence.

He was able to offer shelter, protection and security to the camel caravans travelling through the mountains.

In exchange for this protection, he required merchants to pay passage dues, providing him with a regular source of income. His position was further strengthened by the exploitation of a salt mine discovered at Adouz, near Telouet.

Ahmed’s increasingly prosperous activities soon caused concern to his father-in-law, Ahmed Ben El Haj, and provided his enemies within the clan with a pretext to drive him out of Telouet.

He sought refuge among the Aït Ounila, a neighbouring tribe traditionally hostile to his own people. Amghar Ahmed died during this forced exile in 1855.

The conquering pride of the chief of Telouet

During this exile on the banks of the Ounila River, Amghar Ahmed’s son was born.

He was named Mohamed Ben Hammou and grew up with a fierce determination to avenge the humiliation inflicted upon his father and reclaim the leadership of the tribe in the family stronghold of Telouet.

Mohamed Ben Hammou was a man of small stature. He therefore received the nickname Ibibet, the name of a small bird commonly translated here as “the little sparrow”.

Despite the apparent gentleness of this nickname, the young Mohamed became a determined war leader only a few years after his father’s death.

In 1858, he led an attack against the hamlet of Taghennouste. During the battle of Tighoufar Aït Rbaâ, his grandfather, Sheikh Ahmed Ben El Haj, was killed.

The fearless young chief believed he could now begin extending his power south of the Atlas. Once again, however, his ambitions came up against the powerful caïd of Demnate.

Mohamed Ibibet’s ambition was nothing less than to unite the different components of the Glaoua tribe beneath a single banner and transform them into a major power in the High Atlas and beyond, following the example of the great caïdal families of the Mtougui and the Goundafa.

The Goundafa, known in Amazigh as the Ignifissen, formed a group of tribes established along the N’Fiss Valley in the High Atlas.

Long attached to their autonomy in the face of the Sultan’s authority, they would enter the Makhzen network during the final decades of the 19th century. Their leader, Si Ahmed, pledged allegiance to Sultan Moulay Hassan I, who appointed him caïd.

Following his death in 1885, his son Si Tayyeb Goundafi inherited the position and extended the family’s influence from the Haouz plain to the Souss.

The final steps before victory

Caught between these powerful caïds, Amghar Mohamed Ibibet nevertheless succeeded in attracting the attention of the central government, which was always eager to use tribal rivalries to preserve its own authority.

His audacity and determination in confronting his enemies made him a potential ally in the region.

Sultan Moulay Abderrahmane Ben Hicham, who ruled Morocco from 1822 to 1859, appointed him Amghar n’Ufella, or supreme sheikh, over the tribes of Aït Telouet, Aït Ounila and Aït Tammante.

The supreme sheikh had little time to enjoy a title that seemed to fulfil his most intimate ambition.

Like his father Ahmed before him, he faced the fierce hostility of the Zemrani clan of Demnate. Following the death of El Hachemi Zemrani in 1858, his brother Omar succeeded him and made every effort to damage the reputation of his rival in Telouet and bring an end to his growing power.

Omar Zemrani persuaded the Sultan that Mohamed Ibibet was plotting against the sharifian government. He received authorisation to arrest him and bring him to trial.

But the little sparrow’s good fortune—and political instinct—had not deserted him.

The Sultan died in 1859, and Mohamed Ibibet immediately travelled to Marrakech to attend the ceremony of allegiance to the new sovereign, Moulay Mohammed Ben Abderrahmane, who would rule Morocco until 1873 and later become known as Mohammed IV.

During the ceremony, Sidi Boubker Ben Ali Ennaciri, the sheikh of the highly influential Nasiriyya zaouia of Tamegroute, completed the chief of Telouet’s strategy by interceding with the new Sultan on his behalf.

The Sultan decided to pardon Amghar Mohamed El Glaoui. In 1864, he raised him to the rank of Makhzen caïd and placed the tribes of the Aït Ouaouzguite confederation under his command.

Mohamed Ibibet’s hour of glory had arrived.

He used his new position to build a kasbah beside the older stronghold in Telouet. He then embarked upon a policy of expansion towards south-eastern Morocco.

His first major objective was to take control of the Kasbah of Taourirt, in present-day Ouarzazate. Like Telouet, Taourirt occupied a strategic position from which the caravan routes of the South could be controlled.

To achieve this, Mohamed formed alliances with the leaders of several tribes around Ouarzazate. In 1877, he succeeded in taking Taourirt and drove out Sheikh Mohamed Ben Abdellah.

This important conquest gave him control over commercial activity at another major crossroads. From Taourirt, routes led towards the Drâa Valley and the great oasis of Skoura, as well as towards the Dadès and Todgha valleys.

Amghar Mohamed Ibibet then attempted to use Taourirt’s central position to fight the tribes of the South that resisted the Makhzen, including that of his longstanding rival, the powerful Amghar Mohamed Zanifi of Tazenakht.

Proud of his recent promotion to the rank of Makhzen caïd, he set himself the ambition of bringing the independent tribes of the South under the Sultan’s authority.

This undertaking anticipated, in an entirely different context and on a far greater scale, the campaign that French colonial forces would pursue several decades later under the name of “pacification”.

The sparrow’s interrupted flight

The ambition proved too great for a small sparrow that already imagined itself an eagle.

Mohamed Ben Hammou El Glaoui made the mistake of overestimating his strength. Above all, he attempted to move faster than the political realities of late 19th-century Morocco would allow, at a time when tribal pride and competing ambitions remained exceptionally powerful.

His campaigns required considerable financial resources. He believed he could impose heavy charges and new levies upon the other tribes of the Aït Ouaouzguite confederation, as well as upon the Aït Zineb and the inhabitants of Tikirt, Ikhzamen and Ouarzazate.

These demands provoked the indignation of their leaders.

They quickly joined together in a coalition known as the Allies of Tagouzoult. Local tradition associates the name Tagouzoult with the idea of courage or bravery.

Their objective was to restrain the excesses of the chief of the small mountain settlement of Telouet.

Unable to defeat the forces united against him, Mohamed Ibibet abandoned his campaign and withdrew to his stronghold.

He now considered it wiser to consolidate his commercial activities in the High Atlas.

He revived the Monday souk at Ighil n’Oubiane, which had originally been established by his father.

He also built a new caravanserai to strengthen his control over caravans arriving from the Tizi n’Telouet Pass. A second market was established on Thursdays at Zrekten, together with another caravanserai.

From his small village beneath the immense mountains, Amghar Mohamed Ben Hammou El Glaoui—Ibibet—had surrendered himself to the dream of the Atlas.

He had imagined that the name of his clan, the name of the Glaoua, might one day command the countless tribes of Morocco.

Destiny decided otherwise and compelled him to be patient.

Yet the destiny of the Glaoua was like an Amazigh carpet whose splendour emerged thread by thread.

Just as Mohamed Ben Hammou had sought to restore the pride of his own father, Sheikh Ahmed, and raise the family name still higher, his dream of power would be inherited by two sons of an entirely different stature: the elder, Madani, and the younger, Thami.

At his death, Mohamed left his eldest son, Madani El Mezouari El Glaoui, an established authority and a considerable fortune.

This inheritance would enable Madani to rise to the highest levels of the Makhzen and eventually obtain the most prestigious office available: that of Grand Vizier to the Sultan.

In the heart of his younger son, Thami El Mezouari El Glaoui, Mohamed also planted the seed of the ambition he had carried within him from the beginning.

It held the promise that one day, at last, the sparrow would become an eagle.

Read also : The lost destiny of Jews from South East Morocco

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The first inhabitants of Telouet were Berber pastoralists who lived in caves carved into the sides of the surrounding mountains. Over time, Telouet became a crossroads of peoples and cultures. Jewish communities settled here early on, becoming chiefly wholesalers of salt and skilled artisans. During the medieval period, Arabs arrived with the wave of Islamisation that spread across Morocco. They founded medersas (Qur’anic schools) and zaouias dedicated to the teaching of Islamic theology. Renowned marabouts such as Sidi Ouarghal, Sidi Ouissaâden and Sidi Daoud established themselves in the region.

As for the dark-skinned population known as the Haratine, they were originally composed of enslaved people brought from Mali, Guinea, Sudan, and other regions of sub-Saharan Africa, transported north along the trans-Saharan caravan routes as far as Telouet and other inland territories.

Telouet was once an essential passage for the great caravan routes that crossed the Atlas via the Telouet Pass, Tizi n’Telouet. It was also a strategic stopover for military expeditions, including the campaign led by Ahmed al-Mansur al-Dahabi towards Sudan in 1590.

From the 17th century onwards, the arrival of the Glaoua family marked a turning point in the history of Telouet. According to some sources, the family descended from a marabout named Mohamed Ou Saleh, originally from the region of Asfi and said to be of Umayyad lineage. Upon settling in Telouet, the Glaoua established a zaouia and distributed indulgences and blessings—baraka—inherited from their saintly ancestor. Religious influence soon fostered political ambition.

In the 18th century, Sultan Moulay Ismail granted the title of caïd to the Glaoua, entrusting them with control over the caravan route and the collection of passage dues. Later, in 1893, Sultan Moulay El Hassan (Hassan I) led a military expedition, a harka, to subdue rebellious tribes of the Bled es-Siba. On their return, the Sultan and his army were caught in heavy snow in Telouet. El Madani El Glaoui organised a grand diffa—a ceremonial reception—in their honour.

In gratitude, the Sultan granted El Madani the right to levy taxes on surrounding tribes and to collect customs from caravans. He also gifted him arms, including a German Krupp cannon, which is still displayed today in the Kasbah of Taourirt.

In 1908, El Madani El Glaoui was appointed Minister of War (Ouazir al-Harb).

The rise of the Glaoua transformed Telouet into the residence of regional caïds and a major seat of authority in the South. Construction of the Kasbah began in the 18th century in a Berber architectural style.

The expression Bled Es Siba referred in Morocco to areas where the Sultan’s authority was not recognised, particularly in the Middle Atlas, High Atlas and Rif regions, as opposed to Bled El Makhzen.

The rise of the Glaoua transformed Telouet into the residence of regional caïds and a major seat of authority in the South. Construction of the Kasbah began in the 18th century in a Berber architectural style.

Between the 19th and 20th centuries, oriental and Hispano-Moorish influences were introduced as the Kasbah was expanded. It became both a seat of governance and a noble residence, housing a court of justice, a prison, ceremonial courtyards, stables, and living quarters.

The renowned El Hadj Thami El Glaoui, one of the most powerful caïds of his era, lived here. He amassed considerable wealth through extensive land ownership and investments in the Omnium Nord-Africain and the CTM transport company. A man of refined tastes, he played golf in Marrakech and collected carpets and precious stones. He hosted distinguished guests such as Resident General Steeg, Sultan Sidi Mohammed (on 16 November 1931), Winston Churchill (1937), General Patton (1942), Jacques Majorelle, Marshal Lyautey, and many others.

Today, the Kasbah is slowly succumbing to time and neglect. Only the main residence and a few annexes remain well enough preserved to receive the gaze of visitors. Yet these surviving chambers still reveal the finesse of the artisans’ craftsmanship, the elegance of its former masters, and the way of life of a world that has disappeared.

Every corner of the Kasbah is a page of Telouet’s human history, holding within its walls the memory of those caïds whom history remembers under a single name: the Lords of the Atlas.

Photo credits : Abdellah Azizi / azifoto.com

Location

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version française

LThe Southeast region of Morocco was once a vibrant territory where many civilizations arose and then faded away. It was on the outskirts of its vast Sahara Desert that Sijilmassa, the flagship city of the Middle Ages, was born, its radiance shining throughout Africa and extending to the East.

This city enchanted the greatest travelers and inspired chroniclers who were dazzled by its fascinating charm. Sijilmassa especially aroused the covetousness of various powers that succeeded each other in ruling over Morocco, the entire Maghreb, and the South of the Iberian Peninsula. Thanks to the city of Sijilmassa, the Tafilalet region was once a crossroads connecting West Africa to the Mediterranean and Eastern worlds. Today, the remains of Sijilmassa can be found in the vicinity of the town of Rissani, in the province of Errachidia, revealing only a tiny part of its wonderful history.

Sijilmassa, between spiritual hub and land of political rivalries

The early days of Islam witnessed significant turmoil due to profound discord within its communities. In the first century following the death of the Prophet Muhammad, the powerful Umayyad and Abbasid dynasties clashed in a fierce war for monopoly over political and religious power in the Islamic world. While it is now known that two major currents, Sunni and Shia, quickly opposed each other to vie for spiritual legitimacy and truth, a third ideological branch emerged during the reign of the fourth caliph, Ali, amidst tension and sedition, with the intention of escaping the dominant Islamic orthodoxy. This branch came to be known as Kharijism and actually constituted the first of Islam’s heresies.

The followers of Kharijism quickly fled from the East to escape persecution by the Umayyad, Abbasid, and Fatimid powers. Their spiritual leaders scattered throughout the Maghreb, reaching it as early as the beginning of the 8th century, following existing trade routes.

The Amazigh tribes of the Saharan regions of the Maghreb embraced this new spiritual ideology brought and preached by Kharijite refugees from the East. The Amazighs of the Tafilalet region in turn joined the leaders of these Kharijite dissidents and converted to their religion, Kharijism, specifically to one of its prevailing sub-branches known as the Sufri Kharijism, which distinguished itself by a moderate vision of Islam compared to other, more radical segments.

Sijilmassa, the oasis city founded by the Amazigh Zenata tribe.

As the Maghreb gradually came under the dominance of the Umayyad Caliphate based in Damascus, the Tafilalet region became a refuge for these dissident Arabs who harmonized with the rebellious spirit of the Amazigh tribes fighting against the conquering central power. It was under these conditions that the city of Sijilmassa was born in the years 757-758 on the eastern fringes of the desert, on the edge of the valley of the Ziz River. The city was founded by the Amazigh tribe known as the Zenata, adherents of the Sufri Kharijite rite and under the rule of their first leader, Semgou Ibn Wassoul Al Miknassi. Originally, Semgou was a shepherd settled in Tafilalet and professed the beliefs of Sufri Kharijism.

The city of Sijilmassa was initially led by Aïssa Ben Yazid El-Aswad, which literally means “Aïssa, Son of Yazid the Black” of the Béni Midrar tribe. He too followed the Sufri Kharijite doctrine and derived his name from his Amazigh Zenata father and his mother of sub-Saharan origin. His reign lasted for 15 years until the population revolted against him, leading him forcibly to the top of a mountain where he was abandoned and perished.

Semgou Ibn Wassoul succeeded him. He is considered the true founder of the city of Sijilmassa, its charismatic spiritual guide, and its great military leader.

It is crucial not to forget that the rise of Kharijism in the Maghreb contributed to strengthening the Great Berber Revolt that took place between 739 and 743 against the Umayyad Arab governors throughout the region. This context facilitated the rise of the city of Sijilmassa and its development as the capital of a true independent state, the Kharijite Emirate, under the authority of the Midrarids, also known as Wassoulites, who constituted the first dynasty of Sijilmassa.

After the city of Qairaouane (Kairaouane), founded in Tunisia in 670, Sijilmassa, then called “the oasis city“, became the second major city to emerge in the Maghreb under the influence of the new Muslim arrivals and their interaction with the existing peoples.

Of course, Sijilmassa quickly became the object of desire for the Arab dynasties holding central power. It was the subject of rivalry among Moroccan expansionist powers, notably the Almoravids, the Almohads, and the Marinids, from around 1260 until the city’s fall in 1393. This covetousness was fueled by its wealth and strategic location at the crossroads of trans-Saharan caravan routes, especially those linking Sijilmassa to Aoudaghost (or Awdaghust) located southeast of Mauritania and then capital of another Amazigh kingdom founded in the 9th century, those linking Sijilmassa to Awlil (Awlil is a salt mine in the western region within a day’s walk of Aoudaghost), the route from Sijilmassa to Gana, and finally the route from Sijilmassa to Tekroour (or Toucouleurs) in the regions of Senegal and Guinea.

It was the armies of the Almoravid dynasty, a strict Islamic movement, who were the first to conquer Sijilmassa in 1055. They put an end to Kharijism and reintroduced the so-called Maliki Islamic orthodoxy. Sijilmassa then became their launching pad for the conquest of the North.

However, the grand history continued its mixing, and the Marinid dynasty conquered Tafilalet in 1257 to officially seize Sijilmassa in 1274. This invasion marked the beginning of the city’s decline, as it definitively lost its status as an independent city and witnessed the slow dissolution of its unified political regime. The population of Sijilmassa settled in ksours (fortified villages) scattered throughout the territory of Tafilalet, each governed by a local lord.

The city of Sijilmassa was completely ruined and vanished forever. It became deserted. Perhaps to perpetuate its golden age, paradoxically, it was renamed “El Madina El Âamra” or “the populated city.” The name of Sijilmassa disappeared from memory by the 17th century and was replaced by the designation of Tafilalet.

Read also : The Berber world

A flourishing city steeped in tolerance and cosmopolitanism

Sijilmassa is situated on the banks of the Ziz River in the Tafilalet plain. In its early days, it was a vibrant religious center and exerted a fascination on populations of different ethnicities present in the surrounding territories, regardless of their faiths. Amazighs, Jews, Arabs, sub-Saharan Africans, and exiled Andalusians were all drawn to Sijilmassa over the years by the favorable conditions of tolerance conducive to constructive coexistence. Thus, this city and its diverse community were able to transform a once desert territory into a flourishing garden. Farmers, caravan traders, merchants, and artisans pooled their expertise for the construction of a prosperous oasis trading city that thrived from its foundation until the 14th century, spanning nearly six centuries.

Sijilmassa was primarily a transit point and the main gateway to the desert for trans-Saharan trade. Caravans traversing the Sahara would pass through and stop in this bustling trading city, connecting Morocco to Bilad al-Sudan, the “land of the blacks.” Caravansary trains crossed the desert via Sijilmassa. A single merchant, accompanied by guides and guards, would lead a caravan of sixty to eighty camels loaded with various goods: gold, salt, black slaves, ivory, ambergris, gum, shields, dates, wheat, raisins, iron utensils, silver jewelry, ceremonial clothing, perfumes, and more. In addition to its role as a commercial crossroads for trans-Saharan trade, Sijilmassa also controlled the minting of currency.

The abundance of water provided by the Ziz and Ghriss rivers, the richness of its groundwater like the legendary “Timedrine” spring known for its abundance, and the construction of a sophisticated irrigation system developed agriculture in the city of Sijilmassa, surrounded by a fortified oasis. Various products were cultivated there, including succulent date species, wheat, millet, corn, cotton, pomegranates, vines, and more.

Gardens and palm trees as far as the eye can see dot the city. This agricultural prosperity made Sijilmassa an oasis of delight wonderfully described by the Arab chronicler El-Idrisi:

The population of Sijilmassa consisted of Amazighs, primarily the Zenata who founded the city, as well as the tribes known as Sanhaja and Masmouda. The Jewish population provided a significant portion of scholars, merchants, and artisans. Due to their experience, they monopolized the silver mines and gold trade. Naturally, there were also Arab populations who arrived with the Islamic conquest movements in the Maghreb. Finally, a black population originating from sub-Saharan Africa settled in the city through caravan trade, often under the status of slaves or servants. This led to the emergence of the Harratin communities, who played a significant role in the development of the entire Southeast region due to their agricultural expertise.

Iraqi merchants from Basra and Kufa also populated the city, along with many other foreigners. Sijilmassa offered a space of cosmopolitanism and tolerance, which allowed for a rich ethnic mix, proving to be the main key to its influence.

The economic prosperity of the city brought wealth to its governors and populations. Its merchants enjoyed unparalleled opulence in the Muslim world, and its inhabitants were considered the wealthiest.

Its grand market, called Ben Akla, was known for its function as a customs post, caravan terminus, central hub of trade, and, inevitably, tax collection site. This market was managed by a tribe known as Ait Kabbour. It was from this nerve center that imports came from all directions. From Bilad Al Sudan to the South came gold, slaves, ivory, ebony, salt, ostrich feathers, and llama hides. From Souss and Awlil to the West came brass, ambergris, and salt. Merchants from the Maghreb brought manufactured goods such as textiles, leather, ceramics, ironwork, glassware, and books. As for the merchants of Sijilmassa, they specialized in ceramics, leather craftsmanship, dates, wine, and coins.

Sijilmassa was one of the great populous cities of the Maghreb, surrounded by a wall with twelve gates. It took more than half a day to traverse the city, as it was about eight kilometers long and two kilometers wide.

The refined urban planning also reflected the magnificence of Sijilmassa. Enchanting gardens adorned the city. Water flowed abundantly in beautiful fountains, with large wheels drawing water from the Ziz River. It flowed through subtly constructed channels, crossing the entire city, nourishing lush gardens and orchards filled with date palms and vines surrounding the city.

Many buildings showcase the beauty of the city. Dar Al Imara, the “government house,” was erected within the city’s walls. It was an elite residence worthy of the rulers of Sijilmassa, adorned with geometric patterns painted in black on white backgrounds and sculpted in stucco with painted Quranic inscriptions on the walls. Around three hundred and fifty castles were built, with the most famous bearing names like Tenegent, Tebuhasant, and Mamun, along with magnificent mosques beautifully decorated, Moorish baths, temples, and madrasas (theological schools). Four gates in the Sijilmassa oasis indicated the direction of the trading places. These were Bab Fez, the gate to Fez, Bab Sharq, the eastern gate, Bab Sahel, the Sahel gate, and Bab Gharb, the western gate.

Sijilmassa reborn: the extraordinary discoveries of 2024-2025

For decades, Sijilmassa remained an archaeological promise more than an explored reality. That changed between 2024 and 2025, when Morocco’s National Institute of Archaeological Sciences and Heritage (INSAP) launched the most ambitious excavation campaign the site has ever known — the first to be entirely led by a Moroccan team, using drones and 3D imaging technologies applied for the first time in the country.

The results exceeded all expectations and are reshaping our understanding of Moroccan history.

Beneath nearly nine thousand square meters of excavated urban core, archaeologists uncovered the foundations of a mosque measuring over 2,600 square meters — with a capacity for approximately 2,600 worshippers. Stratigraphic analysis dated its earliest phases to the 8th century, making it the oldest mosque ever identified on Moroccan soil, predating the celebrated Al-Qarawiyyin of Fez by more than a century. Carved plaster fragments from the Midrarid period (8th–10th centuries), adorned with geometric, vegetal and epigraphic motifs, emerged as the oldest known examples of Islamic decorative art in Morocco.

But the discovery that set the archaeological world alight was something smaller and more intimate: a ceramic mould shaped like a honeycomb, its cavities still holding traces of gold. This was a mould used to cast the blanks of Sijilmassa’s legendary gold dinars — the first such find ever made in Morocco, and only the second in all of Africa, after Tadmekka in Mali. The abstract idea of Sijilmassa as a gold-minting powerhouse suddenly had a tangible, golden face.

The excavations also revealed a complete residential quarter from the Alaouite period (17th–18th centuries), offering the first material evidence of the dynasty’s organized presence within the ancient city walls — a discovery that extends Sijilmassa’s known occupation by several centuries beyond what was previously documented.

The ruins of Sijilmassa are no longer merely the echo of a vanished world. They are, once again, an open book.

The enduring and radiant pride of its own past

Thus, Sijilmassa was a vibrant, inspiring, and flourishing city. It possessed a mysterious allure that equally captivated mystics, warriors, travelers, scholars, merchants, and nomads alike. Unfortunately, the decline of this mythical city was abrupt and brought an end to the spirit of cosmopolitanism that once prevailed there. Sijilmassa is forever buried under the rubble and forgotten.

Its enigmatic history has given rise to numerous legends conceived in the popular imagination to keep alive the memory of a flourishing and radiant city in southeastern Morocco where living together was pleasant, where everyone brought their differences, experiences, and uniqueness to build a common, prosperous endeavor for the benefit of all and fully open to the outside world.

Sijilmassa is the pioneering city of a plural and fraternal world, forever vanished but which must remain a lasting and radiant pride for the Moroccan people, who are also plural, as well as for the Moroccan nation: the pride owed to such a glorious past.

Read also : Tifinagh: from stone to digital, the living alphabet of the Amazigh world

Location

Source

• Sijilmassa : The Rise and Fall of a Walled Oasis in Medieval Morocco, Dale R. Lightfoot and James A. Miller
• The Last Civilized Place : Sijilmasa and its Saharan Destiny By Ronald A. Messier and James Andrew Miller
• Sur l’architecture du Tafilalt et de Sijilmassa (Maroc Saharien), Jacques Meunié

The post Sijilmassa, the mythical city that shone the true heart of the Maghreb appeared first on Southeast-morocco.com.

Legend or historical fact? The once-hidden presence of a Christian princess within the walls of the Aït Ben Haddou ksar is supported by tangible evidence that cannot be ignored. Southeast-morocco.com conducted its own investigation to determine whether the most visited site in southeastern Morocco—an iconic showcase of traditional Amazigh earthen architecture—may, in fact, have roots that reach far deeper into history than commonly believed.

In 1883 the French explorer Charles de Foucauld is travelling all over Morocco to explore uncharted territories beyond the massive Atlas Mountains, in the very part of the country rebelling against the authority of successive sultans and thus called the bled es sība, which means the land of anarchy. On October 18, he writes down in his travel journal his joy of finally discovering a grove of palm trees on the edge of the village of Tikirt, where he is about to stop and rest after a long tiring walk.

Charles de Foucauld has just crossed the Telouet pass, one of the rare points through this veritable mineral partition, that cuts Morocco in two.

In order to venture into this insecure area, where solely the law of the Amazigh tribes prevails, he has donned the clothing of a Jewish traveller, and his guide, Rabbi Mordecai Aby Serour d’Akka, accompanies him, bringing with him his long experience of exploration which, in particular, allows him to enter the Berber villages unheeded, thanks to their Jewish communities. Indeed, at the end of the 19th century, it seemed to Charles de Foucauld more judicious to travel under the guise of a people who, although both accepted and discredited, had been present in these lands since ancient times. This way he was unlikely to attract attention, rather than in the style of a European, who would necessarily be perceived as a Christian; that is, as a possible enemy.

He takes advantage of this stay in Tikirt, where he resides for a week, to get a closer look at the ruins of an ancient citadel, in a place called Tasgedlt located a few kilometres away, and around which, in his own words, “a thousand-year-old legend is woven”. The account he writes in his notebook makes it easy to imagine how the story could have been related to him, in such a way as to arouse the curiosity of any witness:

Having walked the few kilometres up to the village of Tasgedlt, he observes, from afar, the remains of what can be assumed to be a fortress, distinguishable through its towers, and that stretches all along the sides of a hill. The place is scattered with other ruins of further buildings.

He takes the time to sketch the whole, as well as the most prominent part in the shape of a wide front door. Even today, what remains of the building, and the imposing width of the surrounding walls, suggests the importance of the place and gives credence to the idea that this place must have indeed once been the residence of someone of great nobility.

In search of the lost princesses

Charles de Foucauld admits, however, to having little faith in the reality of this beautiful legend. He explains that the account given to him by the villagers of Tikirt establishes that the arrival of Muslim armies from the 7th century onwards brought about the downfall of this Christian monarchy and caused the precipitous departure of the princesses. He also opines that the ruins must have been the remains of old kasbahs built by any one of the sultans. Each of these three places where, according to the legend, the sisters are said to have settled, bear similarities to each other.

However, his conclusion contradicts his own observation that these large territories have always been beyond the control of any sultan. Above all, it clashes with the amplitude of this legend which has carried the tale of these princesses for centuries, and which is based on other factual observations that the explorer strangely did not make in his time.

It is in fact within the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, located a few kilometres from the Tasgedlt’ ruins, that, in the maze of narrow streets, there is a disturbing element that reinforces the glow of this legend. An oral tradition in this village indeed reports that a very old well, located between the two surrounding walls that once protected the village and its granary, bears the name of Anou n’Tarmouyte; in other words the Christian’s well.

Better yet, when divulging a little more about this strange name, the elders of the ksar community enjoy telling their own version of the story. According to them, King Ouâd would have indeed existed in very distant times, but he had had four daughters, not three. This fourth, named Aïssatou, had taken over power upon the death of her father and is said to have settled precisely in that place known today as the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou.

So, they say, it was she who had the well dug, and indeed, when the Muslim troops arrived, she would have been forced to flee to escape the warrior attacks and would have left the village through its north gate in order to head towards Telouet, in the hope of reaching the other side of the Atlas Mountains.

Today, a ruined tower overhangs this old well. But in the past, this tower was part of the northern gate of the ksar through which Princess Aïssatou ran away, and this ruin is nowadays known as L’Borj n’Tarmouyte, which means the Christian’s tower.

Morocco, a place of an intermingling of confessions and traditions

Located on the banks of the Ounila river, the fortified village, igherm in the Amazigh language, Aït Ben Haddou, has been world famous ever since its UNESCO classification as a world heritage site in 1987. Its singular silhouette stands as the symbol of Amazigh architecture in Morocco, and ultimately of Morocco as a whole. The village of Aït Ben Haddou was once a staging point for the large camel caravans of the trans-Saharan trade, but, nevertheless, Charles de Foucauld and his guide passed by without stopping. The explorer thus missed out on the story of Aïssatou, the fourth Christian princess.

The legend and its narrative which still linger in the memories of the elders remind us that in Morocco, before the 7th century and the arrival of the first troops of General Oqba Ibn Nafi al-Fihri from the Arabian Peninsula, the Amazigh population, the native population of these territories, had, over a period of nearly a thousand years, already welcomed many communities from the East bearing Phoenician, Jewish, Roman or Christian culture.

And what about these intermingling populations that have blended all these faiths and traditions? How far could this learned mixture have extended? On what fertile or even arid lands was it able to flourish as a community, principality or kingdom?

The homelessness of the oppressed as the primary vehicle for spreading the faith

The last words uttered by Jesus of Nazareth, as reported in the Gospel according to St. Mark, might suggest that the expansion of Christianity is, above all, based on ideological voluntarism:

Reality, as so often, is more complex. After his death, the disciples and faithful followers of Jesus, commonly called the Galileans, constitute just one more group among an undoubtedly dominant but later fragmented Judaism, which found itself in a crisis as to its meaning. However, during the initial process of Christianization, their migration very quickly began following their expulsion from Jerusalem in the 35s A.D after the lynching of one of these Jews’ first charismatic figures. This was, the so-called Stephen, who has since been regarded as the first of the Christian martyrs.

These first exiles will quickly settle in nearby regions, such as Antioch or Cyprus, Phoenicia or Damascus, to constitute the first centres of what would slowly become a new religion.

In the year 70 AD, the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Roman armies under Nero’s leadership sets in motion a long-lasting dynamic scattering of the Jewish people, mixing all faiths.

The emergence of African Christianity

These exiled populations arriving in the territories of North West Africa is self-evident, particularly because of the attraction of Carthage, today’s Tunisia, a city under Roman occupation since its destruction in 146 BC., and where a large Jewish community had already been living. As history tells us, twelve Christians, as the martyrs of Scilli, were executed in Carthage during the year 180 by order of the proconsul of Africa. Barely fifty years later, a Christian community will be consolidated to the point where, in the 240s AD, the bishop of Carthage, their leader, could establish a council bringing together nearly a hundred other bishops from the surrounding Christian communities.

Bishop : The word comes from the Greek Eπίσκοπος / episkopos which literally means “supervisor”, that is to say moderator, responsible for a community. Source: Wikipedia

Carthage will thus become a focal point of Christianity in Africa from which emerge important personalities, all of them Berbers converted to the new Christian faith, such as Tertullian, Cyprian or Augustine of Hippo, who will go down in history as Saint Augustine.

At the end of the 2nd century, the writer and philosopher Tertullian testifies in one of his books that the expansion of Christians was energetic. He addresses the Roman authorities as follows:

Christianity is thus known for having first established itself in the already Romanized cities of the former Berber kingdom of Mauretania, better known as the Moorish Kingdom, under various sovereigns such as Bocchus, Juba II or Ptolemy. This was the case in Tangier (Tingis) or in Volubilis, in Asilah (Zilis), Ceuta (Septem), Larache (Lixus), Tétouan (Tamuden-sis) or Salé (Salensis).

But it was still under the threat of violence that the dispersal of the new believers increased and caused some of them to leave risk areas such as large cities in order to take refuge further inland, to be exact beyond the High Atlas Mountains. The fierce persecution of African Christians at the beginning of the 4th century, under the authority of the Roman emperor Diocletian, must thus have caused innumerable exoduses.

The Amazigh kingdoms as a place of refuge for Christianity

It will take until the conversion of the Roman Emperor Constantine in the year 313 that a lull could allow the new religion to expand more tranquilly over the following decades. But this last period of persecution by the power of Rome also resulted in the emergence of a divergent ideological current within fledgling Christendom, which reached a significant following among the poorest and least educated communities, principally in vast rural areas.

This current, called Donatism, was opposed to the new alliance that was being established between Christianity and the Roman Empire. Its followers and thinkers sought to define a vision of faith more anchored in what they call the Holy Spirit, that is, the flow of the spirit of God among humans. This current will end up being considered as heretical and will be strongly opposed. But by then, it will have diffused a vision of the Christian religion strongly linked to the worship of the saints and the martyrs. This is not to forget the ease with which the Amazigh tribes welcomed Sufism a few centuries later and, in rural Morocco, allowed the establishment of a popular tradition dedicated to the glory of the saints illustrated by the emergence and the increase of the zaouias.

Zaouïa : is a Muslim religious building which constitutes the center around which a Sufi brotherhood is structured. By extension, it often refers to the brotherhood itself. Source: Wikipedia

The scenario of chaos resumed with the invasion of the Vandals from Europe in 430. This period of great violence lasted almost a century and saw the emergence of another version of Christianity, called Arianism, which once again brought about a new cycle of persecution, confiscation of property, destruction of places of worship and forced conversion. Again and again, the consequence of this was a new exodus for Christians loyal to their original faith. Once again this exodus was into the interior territories of the country, where various Berber kingdoms and principalities had emerged fiercely resistant to all successive invaders.

All these excluded and persecuted peoples had to find benevolent havens of peace in these Amazigh territories. The heads of these kingdoms, often Christian, carried Roman titles for a long time, as did the sovereign Masuna within the Kingdom of the Moors and the Romans, and who was designated as the Rex gentium Maurorum and Romanorum.

At the end of the 5th century, the kingdom of Altava took over from the Kingdom of the Moors and Romans and brought to life a Christian Berber culture in the territories of the former province of Mauretania Caesarean. Today this corresponds central and western Algeria and part of north-eastern Morocco.

The melodiousness of their existence resonates until today

The establishment and influence of Christianity in North Africa is therefore a reality throughout the first centuries of the first millennium. It is more than likely that its spread was beyond urban sites towards interior territories where the powers of the moment didn’t wield any authority. The confessional confrontation with the paganism widespread among the indigenous Amazigh populations must certainly have created friction, but important theological or religious bridges must also have facilitated conversions to Christianity.

We also know that the arrival of Islam to the shores of the Atlantic coast in the 7th century did not result in the immediate disappearance of the presence of Christianity. The complete erasure will take place five centuries later under the authority of the Almohad dynasties, at the same time as the disappearance of other currents, such as Shiism and Kharijism, throughout the Maghreb.

Despite the absence of historical sources that can attest to this today, it is therefore more than likely that the territories of south-eastern Morocco were able to welcome a Christian kingdom.

The existence of Doula, Zelfa, Stouka and Aïssatou, the four princesses’ daughters of the King of Ouâd, is therefore just as probable, as is their reign over the lands today united and named the rural Moroccan commune of Aït Zineb.

The persistence of their memory today among the inhabitants of the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, just as at the time of the explorer Charles de Foucault, reinforces the possibility of this reality and mainly because the melody of their first names still resonates in the name of the places that once hosted them.

Where Doula Bent Ouâd had settled, in the fortress of Tasgedlt visited by Charles de Foucauld, the douar today bears the name of Tadoula, the prefix “Ta” indicating the feminine form of a name in the Amazigh language. Today, the douar where Stouka Bent Ouâd is supposed to have been living is named Taskoukt.

And the Ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, which once was the home of Princess Aïssatou, has for centuries been named after its official founders, the Aït Aïssa family.

A final clue sheds light on the legend in a most masterly fashion, so as to validate it forever: Aïssa is the Arabic translation of the name of Jesus.

Version française : Il était une fois au Sud Est du Maroc, quatre princesses chrétiennes …

The post Once upon a time in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, four Christian princesses … appeared first on Southeast-morocco.com.

At the time of its inception, the Marinid dynasty governed Morocco, then recognized by the enchanting epithet Maghreb Al-Aqsa, the Distant West. This Zenata Berber-origin dynasty earned renown for adorning Morocco with medersas, these Quranic schools. It was under their reign that what historians term the cycle of zaouïas began in Morocco. Through the proliferation of these religious institutions across all territories of Morocco, it signaled the decline of the political authority’s monopoly over religious authority, and conversely, the ascent of zaouïas to a legitimate political function.

The Marinid Sultanate was a Berber Muslim empire from the mid-13th to the 15th century which controlled present-day Morocco and, intermittently, other parts of North Africa (Algeria and Tunisia) and of the southern Iberian Peninsula (Spain) around Gibraltar.

The zaouia of Tamegroute, like many others in Morocco, cannot be solely confined to its religious and mystical character, as it played a significant role in the Drâa Valley and subsequently inspired the establishment of numerous other zaouias bearing the same name throughout Morocco. The spiritual dimension of its identity thus early on complemented itself with a temporal dimension characterized by power, influence, and authority—attributes that are distinctly terrestrial, clearly materialistic, and fundamentally human.

In 1883, the French explorer Charles de Foucauld became the first to venture into the depths of Morocco, documenting in his work “Reconnaissance au Maroc” his impressions upon encountering the zaouia:

The Naciria Zaouia, now a national cultural heritage, is the result of a tumultuous human adventure whose narrative, woven with conflicts of interest, ambitions, and passionate pursuits of the protagonists, as well as the capricious play of circumstances, resembles the classic and almost romantic framework found in all epic tales that fill the history books of our humanity.

The birth of a zaouia on the caravan route

It was in 1575 that a man named Abou Hafs Omar Ben Ahmed El Ansari settled in Tamegroute to establish the zaouia later known as Zaouïa Naciria.

His journey to reach there was only a kilometer, as he hailed from a neighboring ksar where his ancestor, Sheikh Ibrahim Ben Mohamed Ben Ahmed El Ansari, had already established a zaouia called Zaouïa Sidi En-Nass two hundred years earlier, which translates to the zaouia of the Lord of the people, paying homage to the Prophet. Another French explorer who reached Tamegroute in 1904, the Marquis de Segonzac, described this sheikh in his mission report titled “In the Heart of the Atlas” as a hermit whose sole intention was to live unknown.

No one knows why Abou Hafs Omar decided to establish his own zaouia instead of continuing his religious journey in the footsteps of his ancestors. Marcel Robin in 1918 offers the following explanation in his exploration report:

It is worth noting that the zaouia Sidi En-Nass was indeed nestled in a ksar hidden amidst the palm trees, an environment that best suited its mystical intention, whereas Tamegroute was already at that time a thriving village situated on the caravan route from sub-Saharan Africa to the major cities in the North. The ambition of a new zaouia could not have found a better setting to take flight than in such a place of convergence for people and wealth.

It’s crucial to bear in mind that this period is truly the golden age of zaouias. The Drâa Valley was teeming with local brotherhoods, each organizing itself with its own zaouia: the Zaouia of Tagmadarte, that of Tanmslat, the Zaouia Essalhya of Tagounite, or that of Tamnougalte.

The initiative of Abou Hafs Omar Ben Ahmed El Ansari proves successful: the zaouia takes shape in Tamegroute and gains the expected respect. Upon his death, his pious daughter, Lalla Mimouna, assumes the responsibility of managing affairs within the nascent zaouia, overseeing the collection of revenues and organizing social activities that, at that time, involved accommodating and providing sustenance to students, known as Tolbas, as well as guests of the zaouia such as pilgrims, passing travelers, traders, and all the destitute or sick individuals who found refuge and security within the sacred walls of the zaouia.

Beside Lalla Mimouna, a man named Sidi Abdallah Ben Houceine El Qebab, also known as Erraqi due to his family origins on the banks of the Euphrates in present-day Iraq, is appointed as the spiritual master of the zaouia of Tamegroute. He himself hails from the zaouia of Sidi Ennas, but his journey in Sufi initiation, along with the teachings received directly from Sheikh Al Ghazi of Sijilmassa, has bestowed upon him a distinctive aura of sanctity. Marcel Robin’s account narrates that

Ahmed Ben Ibrahim El Ansari, faithful to the teachings of his master, lived a life of piety and detachment from the material pleasures of life. In doing so, he reinforced the spiritual influence of the humble zaouia of Tamegroute, one among many, but whose fame and power would suddenly reach a definitive milestone through the intervention of his next master, coming from elsewhere.

M’hammad Ben Nacer, the key figure in the destiny of the zaouia.

It was thirty years earlier, in 1603, that M’hammad Ben Nacer was born in the Casbah of Aghlane, in the palm grove of Ternata near Zagora, itself located in the Drâa Valley. His father, Mohamed, also led another modest zaouia and was a revered man due to his claim of Sharifian descent, meaning his genealogical lineage with the Prophet through a chain of ancestry connecting him to Jaafar Ibn Abī Tālib, the brother of Ali, the fourth caliph, and son of Abou Talib, the paternal uncle of the Prophet. The family legend recounts that the name Nacer was bestowed by Jaafar himself.

The young M’hammad receives from his father the initial principles of religious education, and he continues his learning at the mosque of the ksar of Tissergate. At the end of this training period, he attains the title of faqih, signifying that he is regarded as a jurist, well-versed in the rules of Sharia.

M’hammad then takes his first position as a Quranic school teacher in Eldjorfa in the Dadès Valley. He later returns to his native village to teach at his father’s zaouia and is appointed as the imam, meaning the speaker of the holy book, and a teacher in the main mosque. At the age of 26, he has already established a reputation as a meticulous scholar throughout the Drâa Valley. He has significantly expanded his theological knowledge and understanding of Muslim jurisprudence.

However, the journey of this young imam is just beginning. M’hammad indeed feels a fervent desire to assert himself, and his first choice, in the logical continuation of his path, is to deepen his practice of Sufism. As tradition dictates, he embarks on a quest for a master who can teach him and enable him to become part of a maraboutic lineage. He decides to join the zaouia of Tamegroute, just a little downstream from his village along the Oued Drâa. He knew that in these places were the figures holding the most powerful spiritual auras of the moment: the sheikh of the emerging zaouia from Mesopotamia, Sidi Abdallah Ben Houceine El Qebab, and his disciple, Sidi Ahmed Ben Ibrahim El Ansari, the son of Lalla Mimouna.

Thus, in 1631, a young imam and aspiring Sufi left his small zaouia in Aghlane to settle in Tamegroute. Ten years later, despite his reputation, the sheikh of Tamegroute was assassinated during a pilgrimage return to Sijilmassa.

At this decisive moment in its history, the zaouia of Tamegroute had to choose a worthy successor for this title. It happened that only M’hammad Ben Nacer, then thirty-eight years old, had the profile of a charismatic leader. He had quickly become the favorite disciple of the master of the zaouia who, according to tradition, designated him as his successor at the head of the brotherhood by entrusting him with the responsibility of taking care of his children and his wife, Hafsa Al Ansari, meaning to take her as a spouse, after his death.

The grafting of surnames was about to take place, and the zaouia of Tamegroute would erase the name Al Ansari to become the Zaouïa Naciria.

This episode is narrated to us by a 17th-century Moroccan historian, Mohamed El Saghir El Ifrini, who bases his account on the statements of Hosein Ibn Nàcer, the Sheikh of the Zaouia of Aghlane and brother of M’hammad Ben Nacer. The reality is undoubtedly more complex, and the assumption of the official leadership of the zaouia proved to be more challenging than anticipated, only becoming effective five years after the death of Sheikh Ahmed Ben Ibrahim El Ansari.

Despite the last wishes of the deceased sheikh, M’hammad Ben Nacer indeed faced opposition from some members of the zaouia who were reluctant to see a foreigner become the master in their house. Jacques Berque recounts in his work Al-Yousi that a violent offensive by the El Ansari clan was launched against the zaouia, which was in the process of coming under the authority of the Ben Nacer. Faced with this hostility, M’hammad made the decision to return to his original zaouia in the village of Aghlane, taking the widow Hafsa with him.

The official history, narrated through the words of the brother, justifies this withdrawal by citing the statements of Sheikh Ahmed Ben Ibrahim El Ansari himself, attempting thereby to erase the affront of such unflattering oppositions to his prestige:

M’hammad Ben Nacer returned to Tamegroute with his head held high, adorned with the marks of his ordeal and dreams. Later, he married the widow Hafsa, thus uniting their names for eternity. However, it took another dream, dreamt by Hafsa, for her to set aside her own reservations and finally accept this marriage.

This profound transformation of the zaouia’s identity, thanks to M’hammad Ben Nacer’s rise to power, followed the usual script of all these human dramas that sometimes serve as the crucible for great individual destinies. Here in Tamegroute, all the ingredients were brought together: the right place where the ambition of an exceptional character settles, a marriage that allows inscription into a respected lineage, adversity in attaining power and a retreat before a victorious return, premonitory dreams, a miraculous healing, and a charismatic personality capable of combining piety and knowledge in one individual.

The zaouia of Tamegroute will now be known as Zaouïa Naciria, the headquarters of the Naciryyne brotherhood. And this title has been passed down to all its descendants until today.

This foundational pattern would later be complemented by strategic alliances with Berber tribes that controlled various parts of the Southeastern territories, a region not yet subjected to the central authority of the Sultan. The future Sheikh M’hammad Ben Nacer, along with his successors, would establish both distant and respectful relations with the Sultans, allowing them over the centuries to serve as intermediaries between central power and the tribes. It would happen that harkas, chérifian military expeditions in the South of Morocco, were accompanied by a naqib naciri, one of the sheikhs of the numerous Naciria zaouias, serving as a political advisor to the expedition leader for negotiating with the tribes.

Sheikh M’hammad Ben Nacer transformed his zaouia into a radiant center of Sufi culture. In the 17th century, one of his successors, Ahmed Naciri, established a library within the Zaouïa Naciria. Consequently, the Zaouïa Naciria became a beacon of light not only in Morocco but also in Africa, attracting scholars, religious scholars, and students in search of knowledge who were drawn to the precious works gathered there. The hamlet of Tamegroute became a crossroads for commercial caravans, and the zaouia developed its connections and influences in the region.

Sidi M’hammad Ben Nacer successfully underwent the transformation, leaving a lasting legacy of his name and his zaouia. Upon his death in 1674, he was laid to rest near the entrance of the Zaouïa Naciria, in a mausoleum now known as the Garden of the Sheikhs, paying homage to the line of wise Sufi leaders who, through generations, wove the history of Morocco.

Sources :
– La zaouïa de Tamegroute – Marcel Dodin – Archives berbères – 1918
– Au coeur de l’Atlas – Marquis de Ségonzac – 1904
– Sainteté, pouvoir et société : Tamgrout aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles – Abdallah Hammoudi – 1980

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Their presence, long perceived as something self-evident, gradually faded away, leaving behind abandoned synagogues, deserted mellahs and scattered stories suspended between memory and oblivion.

The reasons for their departure were many. Political changes, economic upheavals and new aspirations led to a mass exile towards Israel, Europe and North America. Yet despite the distance, this diaspora has kept an unbreakable bond with its native land, where the echoes of its passage can still be heard.

To rediscover this history is to lift the veil on a little-known facet of Moroccan heritage, and to understand how this legacy continues to shape the identity of the south-east of the country.

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Three centuries later, the founding of Carthage, in present-day Tunisia, intensified these migratory movements. The Greek myths surrounding the giant Atlas, together with the irresistible attraction of the ocean, would forever magnetise both sides of Africa.

Then came the Romans, the Byzantines, the Ottomans, the Arabs. Over the centuries, the lands of north-western Africa became a crossroads of passions and ambitions, an eldorado for every kind of project, a crucible of constant cultural mixing and the workshop of the slow, laborious construction of a country: Morocco.

Very early on, scattered within these human tides, Jewish communities settled here and there, following their wanderings with no other aim than to find a place where they could stop and build a life, often after fleeing another land.

They then took part in the life of their host territories, joining their hands, hearts and intelligence to the labour of the other communities already present, and of those that would join them later. Together, generation after generation, they helped weave the plural identity of what would become Morocco.

The making of a mosaic people

The first waves of Jewish immigration are believed to have arrived aboard Phoenician ships, on the coasts near the mouth of the Oued Noun, in the region of Guelmim in southern Morocco. From there, different groups gradually moved inland, especially towards the valleys of the Drâa, the Tafilalet and the Dadès, and towards the High Atlas.

One legend tells that King Solomon sent Jewish explorers to the Drâa region in the 10th century BC in search of gold. It is also said that some groups may have reached the area directly by crossing the continent at the time of the first destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem in 586 BC, following the mass deportation of the surviving Hebrews to Babylon.

Historically, the only concrete proof of the ancient Jewish presence in Morocco dates back to the 2nd century BC. It consists of funerary objects found in the ruins of the Roman site of Volubilis, bearing inscriptions in Hebrew and Greek.

Until the arrival of Arab tribes from the 7th century onwards, more than a thousand years passed during which Jewish, Berber and sub-Saharan communities shaped a coherent social and cultural space together. Judaism, Christianity and paganism all found expression there, depending on the period, the various local powers and the foreign occupying forces, such as the Romans, the Vandals and the Byzantines.

The growing influence of Islam naturally changed the situation. It protected Jewish communities from the major Roman or Byzantine persecutions by placing them under the status of dhimmi. This social position, discriminatory in practice, nevertheless guaranteed them a real and more bearable form of protection, one that could even become more flexible depending on the mindset of successive sultans, and above all of local chiefs.

While the Almohad period plunged Jews back into persecution, the other sultanates allowed a communal symbiosis to develop between Jewish, Arab and Berber components. This was even stronger in rural areas, where these human groups, brought together, came to form one and the same community. Each retained its cultural singularity, but over time many of these cultures mixed and were transformed.

The German historian, Shlomo D. Goitein, was able to state:

In Morocco, a common destiny was being forged between these communities, without intention, and even without awareness. It rested both on the unprecedented accumulation of a shared past and on the tragic upheavals of history and of individual lives.

Thus, in the 17th century, Morocco became a land of exile for the three communities together — Berber, Arab and Jewish — then driven out of Andalusia. This forged a certain closeness between them around the nostalgic memory of the Iberian eldorado, and helped enrich their common culture.

The Drâa Valley, a cradle of settlement and influence

Because of its geographical position, south-eastern Morocco was one of the privileged territories for the settlement of Jewish communities. Their presence was so significant that the only documentary sources shedding light on the history of this region before the arrival of Arab tribes are said to be Hebrew manuscripts dating from the 12th century.

These accounts mention the arrival, around the 5th century BC, of nomadic Jews travelling in camel caravans, and their settlement at the site of Taourirt N’Tidri — the hill of Tidri — near present-day Zagora. Even today, stone and rammed-earth remains can still be seen there, bearing witness to the ancient Jewish presence.

From Tidri, Jews spread to other neighbouring localities such as Beni Sbih and Beni Hayyoun, Amzrou south of Zagora, Asselim N’Ougdz, Tamnougalte, Tazroute, Tagmadarte and Mhamid El-Ghizlane.

Within the flow of these same mythical accounts, mention is also made of the founding of the town of Tamegroute by Jews, as the capital of a Jewish kingdom of the Drâa. This kingdom is said to have dominated the region from the 7th century until the end of the 11th century, when the arrival of the Muslim Berber tribes, the Sanhajas of the Almoravid sultanates, plunged Jewish communities back into a cycle of persecution and definitively deprived them of any possibility of exercising authority over the territories.

Tamegroute stood out for its urban character and, above all, for its cultural influence. Hebrew learning enjoyed great renown there throughout southern Morocco. The Talmudic scholar Moïse Abraham Halevy Ed-Draoui remains the emblematic figure of this period in the 10th century.

The Dadès Valley, the Ziz and the whole Tafilalet

Important Jewish settlements were also established in the Dadès Valley, notably at Tiylite, a few kilometres from present-day Kelaa M’Gouna.

A 12th-century work entitled Kitâb Al Istibṣar, written by an anonymous Arab geographer, refers to Tiylite as a madina, meaning a town. It describes it as a place through which caravans passed, equipped with a fortress, garrisons and the presence of a wali, or governor.

Tiylite was indeed a point of convergence for populations from neighbouring regions, as shown by the list of families buried in its Jewish cemetery: Ait Ouzzine, Ait Tazarine, Ait Ofilal, Imeghrane, Ait Hnana, Ait Icho, Ait Messoud, Ait David.

The Todgha and Dadès valleys also welcomed large Jewish communities from Andalusia after its reconquest by the Spanish Catholic monarchy. The ksar of Asfalou thus became a major place of residence for the Jews of Todgha, followed by the ksar of Tinghir, Taourirte and Ait Ourjdal.

The importance of the Jews in Todgha is explicitly carried in a local Amazigh popular song:

In the Tafilalet, around the Ziz basin, many Jewish settlements prospered. They experienced major economic and social growth with the founding of the city of Sijilmassa by the Zenata Berbers. After the decline of this radiant city in the 14th century, Jews continued their destiny in other ksour, such as the ksar of Tabouâssamte, Almamoun, Alfouqani, as well as the ksour of Beni Moussa and Moucheqlal.

Read also : Sijilmassa, the mythical city that shone the true heart of the Maghreb

The Tafilalet is also the native region of great Jewish rabbis such as Rabbi Ya’akov Abehssera, born in Rissani in 1889, Rabbi Moul Tria and Rabbi Moul Sedra.

The names of Jewish families still echo in local collective memory: Benchetrit, Benitah, Bensemhoun, Dahan, Illouz, Mamane, Nezri, Teboul Hazout, Bensaid, Zenou, Amoyal, as well as the Benhamou and Azeroual families in Boudnib.

Once the establishment of mellahs became the norm in Morocco’s major cities from the 19th century onwards, the towns and villages of south-eastern Morocco also created these areas reserved for Jewish communities. Some of them gained considerable renown, such as those of Rissani, Erfoud and Demnate.

Ouarzazate, too, was home to significant Jewish populations, notably in the villages of Telmasla, in the Kasbah of Taourirte, in Tamassinte, Imini and Tikirt. Rabbi Yihia Ben Baroukh Cohen Azogh rests in Tifoultoute. Agouim also hosts the tomb of Rabbi David Ou Moshé, born in Jerusalem. The village of Tazenakhte was especially renowned for the presence, in its synagogue, of an important theological document known as the Sefer Tislit, or the Scroll of Tislit.

A symbiosis between Jewish and Muslim communities

Jews and Muslims therefore shared a common existence within an equally common destiny. This fusion gave rise to a mixed culture, Judeo-Berber-Arab in character, in which many elements of identity were shared, such as the veneration of saints and ritual ceremonies around their tombs. On the Muslim side, this was the Moussem; on the Jewish side, the Hiloula. Often, the two communities venerated the same saints under different names.

Thus, in the Drâa region, Jews and Muslims celebrated a pilgrimage to the tomb of the same saint in Tidri, known as Isaac Akkouim by Jews and Sidi Moussa by Muslims. In Demnate, another saint named Haroun Ben Cohen was also venerated by local Muslims under the name Bou Lbarakat, meaning “the one who grants blessings.”

This cultural harmony between Jews and Muslims is also illustrated by family names, since only a small minority of Moroccan Jewish surnames have Hebrew or Aramaic roots. Most Jewish names reveal a local Berber, Arab or sub-Saharan connotation, or refer to a profession, a tribal affiliation or a geographical origin.

Jewish know-how in the service of the common good

While Jews in the great imperial cities often played important political and economic roles with the sultans, as influential advisers, financial managers or diplomatic agents, their role in the territories of the south-east was crucial to the development of localities and the organisation of their economies.

The prosperity of trans-Saharan trade rested largely on their involvement, thanks to their ancestral knowledge of the desert and of nomadic life. This know-how, together with their command of local languages, allowed them to open routes between remote regions, enabling their artisans to take part in weekly souks: blacksmiths, goldsmiths, gunsmiths, locksmiths, tailors, shoemakers, makers of saddles and babouches, carpets and blankets.

A perfect example is given by Rabbi Mardochée Aby Serour of Akka, who accompanied the French explorer Charles de Foucauld during his reconnaissance journey through Morocco in 1883.

Around the year 1070, the Andalusian geographer Al-Bakri described the Jews present in Sijilmassa as specialists in masonry and architecture. Throughout south-eastern Morocco, they were indeed the builders of many kasbahs and ksour, and the engineers of many agricultural facilities, especially those related to irrigation.

But it was in trade that Jews naturally acquired lasting skill and reputation. A popular saying illustrates this beautifully:

An uprooting marked by heartbreak

The 20th century would bring profound upheavals to the communal fabric that had been woven over the centuries between the Jewish and Muslim communities of Morocco.

On the one hand, the French Protectorate encouraged the rural exodus of Jewish families towards the major cities, drawn by access to Western modernity and no doubt by a hope of emancipation. On the other hand, France supported the development of modernised education based on the secular model of the French system.

The Alliance Israélite Universelle, a French organisation, thus offered mass schooling to young Jewish girls and boys, including those from the poorest families, and therefore also in rural Morocco.

The second half of the 20th century, from Morocco’s independence onwards and in the context of the various conflicts between Israel and the surrounding Arab countries, saw the departure from Morocco of the immense majority of Jews, even though they had become Moroccan citizens.

Mrs Fadma, originally from Ouarzazate, who died during the Covid-19 lockdown at the age of around 120, recalled those moments of separation with regret:

The eclipse of Jewish communities from Morocco’s national narrative

More than two thousand years later, the traces of the Jewish communities in south-eastern Morocco are gradually disappearing. They can still be found in the names of certain villages, in family names, in popular legends and in local customs.

Although oral tradition still manages to preserve some memories of all these shared communities of life between Berber, Arab and Jewish populations, time may erase them forever if nothing is done to highlight and preserve them, further eclipsing the Jewish share in Morocco’s national story.

The history of this participation of Jewish communities in the construction of Morocco remains little known, especially among younger Moroccan generations. Some initiatives have emerged in certain major Moroccan cities to counter this historical amnesia and restore all its colours to the collective story. Here in south-eastern Morocco, however, as with so many other facets of this region’s rich mosaic of memory, nothing has yet been done.

The testimony of a Moroccan Jewish woman who left for Israel expresses a clear wish:

The mystery of this Jew, Moroccan forever, remains intact

In the end, once the pilgrimages have passed and all memories have faded, there will remain the indelible scar of the heartbreak caused by the mass exodus of the Jewish community.

The heartbreak of entire families torn away from a land that had become native to them — and even more than that, a land of origin.

The heartbreak of being removed from a country that had become theirs.

And finally, the heartbreak felt by all those who watched leave the men and women with whom, despite everything, despite periods of persecution, constraints and humiliations, they had shared, over the centuries, the experience of having become Moroccan.

The history of Jews in Morocco thus unfolds across a very long path where light and shadow intertwine, faithfully reflecting the journey of our shared humanity. Yet one singular fact can be observed, and every testimony confirms it: the Moroccan Jew, whether from the south-east, from other rural regions or from the great cities, has left. But wherever he may be in the world — in Israel, in Europe, in Canada or anywhere else — he keeps his Moroccan component present and alive within him.

Between the suffering and the beauty of his existence in Morocco, the mystery of the Jew, forever Moroccan, remains intact.

This mystery undoubtedly sheds light on the past of all Moroccans and of all Moroccan territories. It could also illuminate their future, if the awakening of memory could be understood as the illumination, in all its colours, of the great and beautiful history of Morocco — a kingdom then fully proud of its plural identity.

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