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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Certainly, they had evidently decided to settle along the trail that camel caravans from the other side of the Sahara followed to reach Marrakech. It undoubtedly seemed prudent to them to welcome travelers here for a welcome respite. Oral tradition suggests that pottery trade must have been flourishing, as even today the elders of the ksar refer to the site as Ighrem n’Iqddarn, meaning the village of potters. As often, the choice of names preserves the thread of stories over time, and it is in the winding alleys of the ksar that a well with an eloquent name, Anou n’Tarmouyte, the well of the Christian woman, somewhat illuminates the origins of the place.

Then one must make a connection with a legend reported by the explorer Charles de Foucauld during his passage in the region in 1883, to begin to sketch in his mind a very distant epoch when the region was under the authority of a Berber king, Christian, named Ouâd. One of his four daughters, Aïssatou, is said to have settled at the foot of the rock while her other sisters, Skoukta, Zelfa, and Doulatou, had settled in villages nearby. It is said that during his reign, games around the fire were particularly popular, and to this day, this custom persists. Further on, another place refers to his presence since the north tower of the ksar is named LBorj n’Tarmouyte, which means the tower of the Christian woman. This would be to recall the place through which Princess Aïssatou is said to have escaped the assault of Muslim armies from Arabia in the 7th century to conquer the lands of Africa to their west.

The echo of her memory will be heard centuries later, as the music of her name will resonate in that of the tribe of Aït Aïssa, reputed to be the originators of the founding of the ksar in the 11th century under the Almoravid dynasty. Here again, a legend tells that a man named Aïssa, who came one day from the desert, stopped at the foot of the rock to found the first village there. For a long time, the ksar was known as Ighrem n’ Aït Aïssa until a new leader, Amghar Ben Haddou, in turn imposed the use of his surname on the entire tribe, which had become a member of the Aït Zineb tribe and the confederation of tribes of Aït Ouaouzguite.

Faced with so many hypotheses, official history holds the 18th century as the first milestone of existence, as the only available written documents date back to this period. But one certainty remains, and the brilliance of legends confirms it: the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, around its rock, attracted the humble, the powerful, and the wise, leaving forever veiled the reasons for such a strong allure.

Version originale en français : Aït Ben Haddou, de la légende à l’histoire

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The Ksar of Ait Ben Haddou held a familiar embrace for Loubna. She holds memories of those rare childhood moments spent here during vacations, reuniting with grandparents native to the place. She recalls her childhood games amidst the labyrinth of dusty streets, the communal basin swims, the horseback rides. However, the essence of her life unfolded in Agadir, and in Casablanca for her higher education. Today, she holds the profession of an airline pilot at Royal Air Maroc.

Her patronym, Mouna, immediately signifies her belonging to these lands as it bears the name of one of the five prominent family lineages that have formed a community here since ancient times. Her father, Ahmed Mouna, born here but raised and lived elsewhere, remains a renowned figure, having passionately advocated for the UNESCO classification of the ksar as a World Heritage Site in 1987. While based in Agadir and a successful entrepreneur, he committed himself to supporting the territory’s development during a time when the southeastern region was entrenched in poverty, far from the dynamic pulse of Morocco, distant from everything. He did so out of gratitude to the land of his own parents, yet he never built a family home here, and these native lands became but a fleeting memory for all.

Aït Ben Haddou (in Tifinagh: ⴰⵢⵜ ⵃⴰⴷⴷⵓ, in Arabic: آيت بن حدّو) is a ksar (Ighrem, in Berber) in Morocco. “Aït” means “family.”

Years later, when Loubna returns to the Ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, she knows no one, and no one recognizes her. The site has become an unavoidable stop for all tourists passing through Morocco, eager to cast a fleeting glance upon the Amazigh world. The alleys teem with vibrant bazaars. Guides, whether official or impromptu, pounce on every newcomer. The bottleneck of visitors is perpetual, their flow swift. Her plan to settle here fails for mundane reasons, and as she goes in search of another promising place elsewhere, she falls seriously ill to the point of being unable to walk. Confined to her bed and subjected to numerous medical procedures, Loubna begins to search for the meaning of this sudden and radical trial. In this intimate confrontation, she realizes that the name Aït Ben Haddou still resonates within her, and she understands that she must uncover the significance of this connection to the land, and above all, its purpose — that is, to understand what to make of this bond in her life.

The tale of the ksar mirrors the story of Morocco

Emerging from her convalescence, it becomes evident that she will meet her parents to ask them to recount the history of this land that resonates within her so deeply. Their response acts as a catalyst: they know nothing of this history, as it has never truly interested them. Their parents are deceased, taking with them all their memories. Loubna thus has no choice but to return to the site to attempt to uncover the answers to her questions. She decides on an initial journey accompanied by her mother, and a second one with her father afterward. During the first journey, and thanks to her mother’s presence, she is no longer a stranger. She is Haj Mouna’s granddaughter.

A distant cousin leads her to meet the elders of the ksar, starting with an old woman who welcomes her with open arms and recites an ancient Amazigh poem with a strong voice, traditionally spoken to greet a visitor not seen for a long time, signifying a warm welcome. At that moment, Loubna understands little of the Amazigh language, but her tears flow endlessly, like water from a long-lost spring. She visits another old man, and then another.

For the first time in her life, she listens to the history of her original community and the place of her ancestors, the Ksar Aït Aissa, renamed Ksar Aït Ben Haddou in the early 20th century. There, she understands that the history of this small patch of land, where her roots lie, mirrors the history of her country, Morocco: a mosaic tale formed from the meeting of multiple cultures, a crucible where humanity blends from one to another.

A first glimmer of an answer takes shape: she will do everything necessary to ensure that this radiant memory is preserved, before the passing of its living witnesses, and can thus be shared both in Morocco and throughout the world.

The walls of a territory cradle the memories of its communities

During a second visit with her father, as she wanders through the alleys of the ksar, she discovers the damage caused by the torrential rains that had fallen on the South of Morocco in the preceding months. All the rehabilitation work carried out a few years earlier under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture was almost completely undone. Despite being classified as a World Heritage Site, the site seemed destined to disappear with the whims of time, and no one in the douar felt capable of fighting against this fate. As the roofs and walls crumbled into dust, joining the wadi that flowed at the foot of the ksar, the history of the place faded away, memory after memory, until it merged into the unfathomable sea of oblivion.

A second response is imperative: to breathe life back into the walls of the ksar so that they become the cradle of the memories of its human communities offered to passing visitors. The roadmap is now clear. Loubna and her partner have found the project that will occupy their future. They decide to revitalize the local association Aït Aissa, founded by Loubna’s father, and launch as a first step a lengthy phase of participatory dialogue within the local population, so that everyone can collectively express who they are, where they come from, and together envision where they want to go in the future, for their children, for their territory.

A first observation arises: the human community of the ksar needs to revive the collective spirit. The Amazigh New Year celebration, the festival of seeds and earth, will be an opportunity to gather the population in a joyful atmosphere. On January 13, 2016, under Loubna’s impetus, this first collective celebration is organized under the title “we are all one.” It is a success. Doors open, neighbors take the time to talk to each other, the elders gather again, and children play together. Then, in April 2017, the Aït Aissa association organizes the first “Heritage Day” under the theme of “community life” to welcome tourists for free and allow them to experience the charms of daily life in this emblematic place of southeastern Morocco.

Loubna and Hicham mobilize their friendly and professional contacts in Casablanca, Rabat, and Marrakech to gather the expertise necessary for the implementation of the future project, which takes shape through collective discussions among the inhabitants of the ksar. Establishing a place to generate income for the members of the women’s association of Aït Ben Haddou; this is the Tawasna tearoom in a garden of the ksar, a place that is now fully active and profitable. Reviving agricultural projects to diversify the territory’s economy and no longer depend solely on tourist activities. Organizing the sale of regional products through a Cooperative House. Showcasing the traditions, rituals, and rites of the ksar in an Oral Traditions House. A Cinema House to promote the cinematic history of the ksar. Thematic tours of the ksar to provide local guides with an organized and diverse offering (tours focusing on rites, cinema, ksar history, and three family homes ready to welcome visitors to present beauty rituals, daily life, and weaving). All of these activities, with an initial launch planned for November 2019, will generate funds, part of which will be pooled under the supervision of a council of elders to finance preservation and promotion work on the ksar.

A new association is created to bring together all these human expertise from the major cities of Morocco, mobilized by Loubna and Hicham, the “We Speak Citizen” collective, which aims to support the development of rural areas in Morocco, with the project carried out on the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou serving as a laboratory for the emergence of a new way of fostering rural growth in Morocco.

The lasting gold of a community is its intangible heritage

The development approach implemented in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou set forth a crucial initial step: a dual awakening within the population. The first must lead the people to understand that the fate of their territory, however renowned it may be, cannot rely solely on the immediate exploitation of its assets—here, old dwellings and rows of traditional objects—but must be grounded in the recognition that true value, the enduring gold that withstands the test of time, is intangible. It is essential to preserve ways of life, communal rites, daily rituals, oral histories—all that once nourished the community’s identity and sustained its collective spirit.

The second awakening must lead this same population to realize that they themselves are the sustainable solution to their territory’s problems. It is the pooling of collective talents and their cooperation in service of the common good that will render any development action effective and robust, whether undertaken by the state, institutions, or private organizations.

Loubna’s gamble, her intuition, lies in recognizing that it is precisely the embellishment of this intangible heritage, its showcasing and promotion in broad daylight, before the eyes of the world, that will once again nurture the identity of the human community of Aït Ben Haddou and revive its collective spirit. It is this enhancement of the collective being that will nurture the pride of its members and enable them to transcend personal interests—not to negate them, but to harmonize them in a synergy that brings good to all.

The re-enchantment as a driver of development

The equation posed by Loubna, Hicham, and their colleagues is clear: for a collective facing the necessity of growth and development, the recognition of beauty within it, the embellishment of its identity and nature, is the most effective lever for mobilizing its vital forces and taking control of the mechanisms of this development.

The greatest challenge Loubna must confront, and she is aware of it, is the widespread defeatism that too often leads to the belief that nothing new is achievable in Morocco. It is also, and above all, the equally widespread propensity for indifference that allows for the disappearance of memories, the forgetting of history, the loss of roots, and the denial of the pluralities that have constituted the ksar here and everywhere else in Morocco. Fortunately, Aït Ben Haddou had the chance to encounter one of its own who was there at the right moment to give it the impetus it needed to awaken. It is done. Projects are underway, and others will follow.

Emerging from illness, Loubna Mouna Guenoun reached a tipping point in her consciousness that led her to serve the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou. Through the words of the elders who welcomed her back among them, Loubna discovered an ineffable strength that suddenly re-enchanted her being and, consequently, her life. For it is in this reconciled, peaceful time—where harmony reigns between the past, the present, and the future—that the individual and collective being finds the true space for its growth and the matrix of its joy. And that is what was missing for Loubna. It is from this same re-enchantment that the success of the project undertaken with the population of Aït Ben Haddou, or the mobilization of third-party expertise and necessary financial resources, arises.

Undoubtedly, the ongoing laboratory in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou will serve the rest of Morocco and all its rural areas: the re-enchantment of the origins of a collective and its journey traveled is the guarantee of the success of its destiny.

Photo credits : Abdellah Azizi / azifoto.com

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The emergence of an inspiring feminine dynamic

“Tawasna” means craftsmanship in the local Amazigh language, and it is the chosen name for the tea salon project initiated and driven by a dozen women from the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou.

The choice of this name for the initiative carries significant symbolic importance as it represents, in a very concrete way, the awareness of rural women that they possess the ability to improve their own living conditions, and therefore have the responsibility to take action to achieve this. This embodies the model of a wise economy where women, regardless of their level of education, value their talents and put them in the service of their community, no matter how small. Tawasna is truly a buzzing hive of labor, solidarity, and fulfillment.

These women have freed themselves from the oppressive tradition of passivity that confined them to a stereotyped role where rural women resigned themselves to always being relegated to the background. The Tawasna project is nourished by the experience of each of the women who carry it, from their lives as wives and mothers, and especially as women aware of their new challenges and ambitions.

Work, a key to the fulfillment of rural women

Tawasna is a project built by and for women. It represents a space of fulfillment for its caring actors towards one another. In addition to their duties as homemakers, they take on the role of project managers with determination: they plan, organize, animate, and consult to ensure the smooth running of their enterprise, which allows them to weave and strengthen intimate bonds conducive to team cohesion.

All these women see their work within Tawasna as a key to their personal development and also a source of happiness because their commitment reflects back a more productive image of themselves. Above all, it is the discovery of self-confidence, of this ability to take charge autonomously, that fills them with pride. This energy drives them to strive harder to improve their situation, to give their best to enhance their immediate living environment, and to develop their personality.

This adventure brings together female volunteers from different backgrounds around the project. Elderly women from the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou position themselves as seasoned mentors. Fadma Ihho is the perfect example: a self-taught and inspiring sexagenarian woman who exudes her aura over all her colleagues. Her profile as an actress imbued with patience and serenity gives her the status of a charismatic leader.

Alongside Fadma, educated young girls gather. They represent the modern younger generation of Aït Ben Haddou, proud of their origins. Laila Azdou, the manager of the Tawasna project, embodies this model. After higher education at university and teaching experience, she decided to return to her native village. For her, life in the ksar is in perfect harmony with her personality. She then decided to put her knowledge and skills to work for her colleagues mobilized in the Tawasna project.

These local forces are supported by other individual goodwill, such as young girls and boys from different countries who intend to contribute to the project. These volunteers have also embraced the Tawasna project and participate with dedication in its development.

As for Loubna Mouna Guenoun, she plays her role as conductor by ensuring not to interfere too much in the project. True to her own expertise, she oversees the project from a distance but with vigilance: she coaches, advises, coordinates, and energizes… in a collegial approach that leads to autonomy, the primary guarantee of the project’s sustainability.

The women of Aït Ben Haddou have managed to simultaneously enhance the tourist wealth of their territory and their own personal potential. The Tawasna restaurant deserves to be known and visited because this micro-project demonstrates how every woman in Morocco has all the potential required to undertake where she is. It is the perfect illustration of a small community that has decided concretely to “cultivate its garden.”

To contact Tawasna :
Laïla Azdou – Tel: 00 212 669 94 40 75 / Email: tawesna.sdt@gmail.com

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Beyond all human conditions, the oldest cosmogonies inscribe sound as a founding event in the plural creation of life, and the great sacred texts, such as the Vedas, the Quran, the Bible… were first transmitted orally before being fixed in writing.

Likewise, it is through orality that the first testimonies of humanity’s tumultuous adventure were rendered, through the narration of its heroic epics, as splendidly illustrated by Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, along with myriad mythologies, tales, and melodies all united in a single chorus to express and celebrate loudly who we are as humans and where we are going, attempting thereby to somewhat forget our fragility and isolation in the vastness of space and time.

The Iliad, along with the Odyssey, forms one of the two great foundational epics of ancient Greek literature attributed to the legendary aoidos (epic poet and reciter) Homer. Source: Wikipedia”

Morocco is no exception. The long existence of its people is punctuated by stories told around a fire, listening to the elders, or recited in poetry with sound and dance during a village celebration.

Here, as everywhere else, words have been used to transmit customs and traditions, those of tribes or families, as well as fundamental know-how, such as the crafts anchored in Morocco’s identity, which have managed to overcome the centuries thanks to the oral teaching from master to apprentice.

All these words passed from one to another and from generation to generation, all these exchanges of experiences, all these ways of life, memories, tales, all these communal rituals are indeed the jewels of this intangible part of Morocco’s cultural heritage, this intangible continent of its ancestral identity, and as such, they deserve recognition, valorization, and protection.

This is the heart of the project of the House of Orality of the Ksar of Aït Ben Haddou.

A triple mission in service of Morocco’s intangible heritage

The recognition of this heritage involves its meticulous observation in order to uncover its countless components. That is why the primary mission of the House of Orality will be to serve as a research center, offering the public the results of in-depth studies on various aspects of this intangible heritage each year, both through exhibitions in its publicly accessible premises and through periodic publications that will enrich the documentary resources and thus better support the work of researchers and enthusiasts.

During its inaugural year of activity, the House of Orality will focus on presenting the art of weaving in all its facets throughout the history and life of rural Morocco, from sheep to loom, including wool and its precious processing. Visitors to this discovery journey will grasp the major virtue of orality, which is to connect all the constituents of heritage.

Highlighting these jewels of Morocco’s intangible heritage naturally involves their presentation to the public for discovery and admiration in their elegance. However, the House of Orality aims to be more than just a museum and will offer its visitors a sensitive exploration of all these heritage elements presented and encountered for what they truly are: life experiences.

Orality embodies humanity’s vivacity

Loubna Mouna, head of the NGO We Speak Citizen, clearly emphasizes this dimension, which highlights the primary challenge faced by all stakeholders in this project: how to pay homage to Morocco’s intangible heritage without fossilizing it in a museum or distorting it through folklorization.

The exercise is not simple, and it is unprecedented. It echoes the difficulties of bringing to life the intangibility of a heritage deeply rooted in the distant past, at a time when our era is fervently devoted to the rhythm of immediacy and ephemerality.

For Mustapha Merouan, the curator of the House of Orality, this paradox should in no way hinder efforts to valorize and protect this heritage, particularly orality. Indeed, according to him, orality, regardless of the civilization in which it is observed, is precisely characterized by community and immediacy.

Orality can thus be understood as the constantly renewed illustration of the abundant life of our human dimension in its existence, its journey, its evolution, and its future.

Transmission as a response to oblivion.

Finally, for the team at the House of Orality, the best way to protect this intangible heritage, faced with an obvious risk of erasure and oblivion, is to transmit it to as many people as possible, with a priority on younger generations.

The exhibitions presented will be made itinerant, and the funds collected during this first year of activity will be used to open a second venue adjacent to the House of Orality, where a center for the transmission of all these intangible skills will be established. Public workshops for awareness and learning around master artisans in residence will also be offered.

This focus on targeting the youth is ultimately the keystone of the entire project led by the NGO We Speak Citizen within the Ksar of Aït Ben Haddou.

The House of Orality began its work by collecting elements of the intangible heritage existing within the families of the Ksar of Aït Ben Haddou by the young members of this village community. And it is primarily a team of young people, including researchers, videographers, photographers, artisans, artists, tourist guides… both Moroccan and foreign, who have been mobilized by the NGO to build, step by step, this beautiful, vibrant, and creative synergy in service of Morocco’s cultural heritage.

The homage paid to orality is an invitation to engage in dialogue.

The efforts of those who have been involved in this adventure will soon find their fulfillment during the opening days of this House of Orality nestled in its magnificent stone and earth buildings overlooking the labyrinth of alleys and houses of the old and noble Ksar.

The orality presented there will then resonate in the hearts of visitors with the unique, warm voice of Moroccan heritage.

But as one crosses the threshold of this house, and in the sensory journey in which the visitor allows themselves to be guided, let it not be forgotten that orality, in all its forms and uses, is above all an affirmation of universality. Beyond our diversities and in the face of the weighty challenges before us, orality illustrates a humanity that communicates.

Contact : contact.maisondeloralite@gmail.com

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The traveler thus admires, scattered along the valleys fracturing the mineral vastness of the Atlas, all these villages and their homes, huddled together with a clear intent of protection, made of earth and embedded in the earth, as if veiled, almost invisible beneath the uniformity of the ochre adorning them.

At the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, as everywhere else in the southeastern Moroccan region and beyond the vast Sahara Desert, the structure of dwellings is built block by block using the compaction technique within a wooden frame of slightly moist earth interspersed with stones. This is the age-old technique of rammed earth construction.

One must envision the repeated action of the artisan mason. He compacts, using a long and heavy wooden pestle, the natural mortar to the rhythm of the workers’ song, who pour, one after the other, their bucket of earth into the mold, thus rendering, under the force of his blows, and after drying, the earth mixture as solid as rock.

To live in the embrace of the earth is above all to shield oneself from the vagaries of climate, and the region welcomes them here in their starkness, both winter and summer. It is also to indulge in the encompassing silence. It is to provide one’s community with an organized, comforting home, as so many peoples have done under different skies, around a central room pierced in its midst by an opening to the sky and its lights, with a series of rooms surrounding it.

This earthen structure is covered on its facades with another layer of earth mixed with straw or sand. Here lies the opportunity to inscribe the signs of its mixed traditions, perpetuating the sacred or simply delighting in presenting to the eye the elegance of the designs.

Often, walls surrounded the villages in their entirety to fortify them against all threats and thus preserve their agricultural harvests from the voracious appetite of enemies ever on the lookout. The village then became a ksar, an Ighrem in the Amazigh language. In its center, a large space allowed the inhabitants to gather to discuss collective affairs or to celebrate around traditional Ahwach dances. Here in Aït Ben Haddou, the agora is organized in a square called Agoulid n’Youssef.

The Jewish community of the ksar used to gather around a round stone, Tifirte n’raha, also called Abraham’s stone. The caravanserai near the north entrance, called Imi n’Taqmout, welcomed visitors and their mounts. A main street irrigated a maze of narrow alleys, often covered with a roof. Stone benches here and there offered rest for the elders. The mosque awaited prayers, as did the synagogue.

Thus went life in the ksar of Aït Ben Haddou, at the heart of the earth and on the thread of time.

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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 …

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