DAY 8 Tafraout
06 December 2005
Heading into the gorge at Ait Mansour. Enlarge image
After breakfast we drove to a gorge south east from town, navigating with a photocopied map given to us by the real Houssine Laroussi. En route we picked up a couple of people walking along the road. One turned out to be a French man who had flown into Agadir and was doing a two week hike around the Anti Atlas. The other a local called Mohammed. At Ait Mansour we left our car in a car park at the end of the black top. The car park was empty aside from us, despite this there was still a guardian. We continued into the gorge on foot along a dirt track, though it looked like the works along the route were intended to prepare it for black top.
There was water water and an irrigation system in the bottom of the gorge which supported the growth of many plants, in contrast with the bare surroundings. The north end of the gorge is relatively narrow, but more further south opens out to a broad swathe of trees. It is filled with date palms, olives (bitter!), and fragrant fig trees. There were also many birds, most of which I couldn’t recognise.
Date palm. Enlarge image
Dragonfly, Ait Mansour gorge. Enlarge image
Long legged beetle, Ait Mansour gorge. Enlarge image
Hearing a rustling in the bushes we found 6 puppies, but no sign of their mother. Enlarge image
Building facade. Enlarge image
Heading south the track climbed slightly up the west side of the gorge and we passed scattered villages and semi-deserted and derelict Kasbahs. The women here were dressed all in black, again with only the eyes uncovered. In one village the children were leaving school, and one of the boys walked along with us for a while. He and I enjoyed doing silly walks behind Ol’s back while he wasn't looking.
Ait Mansour gorge. Enlarge image
We then met two men working on a scooter that wouldn't start. One of them said that if we waited five minutes we could come up to his house for some lunch. Somewhat suspiciously we agreed, thinking that there might be some sort of carpet selling in store. After a short time we walked together up to the house, which was large and basic, with a central court yard. In a first floor room we sat on cushions on the floor. Mohammed was a Berber who's family owned the house, but worked selling fake designer clothing in the souk at Jemaa El-Fna, in Marrakech. Brahim was a black man, who worked in Rabat but also had family in this village. As neither they or us could speak good French communication was somewhat difficult, but we usually managed to get our messages across eventually. We all washed our hands in a portable basin with a central soap holder using water poured from a large kettle. The food was meanwhile prepared downstairs by a wife or mother who we never saw. When it was ready we all shared bread and a beef tangine from single dish in the middle of the small table we sat around, followed by fruit. Mohammed also brought up a large dish of biscuits, which were put next to the table but for some reason never offered. After the meal we had mint tea, and were offered a smoke.
Ait Mansour gorge. Enlarge image
We hadn’t really got anything suitable with us to give in exchange for this hospitality. However, we scraped together a battery for the clock on the wall which has stopped, and Andy gave them a hand powered LED torch. We continued down the track for a further 1-2 km down the track to a large village called Souk Had Issi. The outskirts of the village were littered with rubbish and dogs, who barked us a noisy greeting. The streets were full of men who seemed not to be doing much. One man was sat in the sun with a blanket over his head, covered in flies, looking mad or drunk. After a few unsuccessful attempts in small shops we managed to buy some cigarettes, and were glad to leave the village heading back out the way we had come. Retracing our route we dropped a packet of cigarettes off for Mohammed, and exchanged addresses although he can only read and write in Arabic script. The walk back along the gorge seemed much longer than the journey out, and we arrived back at the car park, tired, just before nightfall. The guardian recommended a visit to the hammam before dinner. We paid him double the charge and a cigarette, but as this was still only 10dh (less than a pound) it seemed like small recompense for spending a day minding a single car. After stalling a couple of times trying to get out of the hilly car park I drove us back to town picking up a couple of hitchers also going to Tafraout.
When we got back to town we decided to take the carpark guardian’s advice. At the hammam we were issued with a course mitten to rub ourselves with, a blob of greasy looking stuff wrapped in newspaper, and a bucket. Once in trunks we were directed into a steam room. Not knowing what to do, and probably looking a bit stupid, we were directed to another room by some of the other customers sitting around on the floor. In the next room we found the hot and cold taps with which to fill our buckets. We sat on the floor and began half-heartedly scrubbing ourselves with the gloves and hot water. Soon one of the hammam masseuses came in looking like a wrestler, being bald, fat and dressed in a pair of skimpy trunks. He took hold of Olly and began scouring him vigourly with the mitten and greasy soapy stuff. Then the massage began which, in keeping with his image, looked more like wrestling moves. While me, Andy and the other customers looked on with amusement the masseuse got onto the floor, interlocked limbs with Ol and racked him over his knee. Olly’s face looked very pained as his back was flexed, and then legs pulled around to near breaking point whilst being scrubbed and slapped with the glove. However, Andy and I were in for a similar treatment soon enough. Fortunately I got a different masseuse who looked less wrestler-like, though this didn’t stop him from almost snapping bits off me. It was a slightly strange feeling to be manhandled by a near naked sweaty man in a steamy room. The massage/wrestle certainly did feel good (when it stopped), with the tiredness from the walk all gone, and feeling very loose limbed. We spent the next quarter of an hour washing and pouring scalding hot water over ourselves, and then finished with a drenching of cold water.
