“Trust me, dear Sarah,” Nezha said, “Nothing is better than life in the mountains.”
Have you ever dreamt of a simpler life? One closer to nature, stripped back of the complexities of modern life?
Such a life feels like something left in the past, only possible now in books or imagination.
For the people of the Atlas Mountains, this is a reality.
But is it the romantic fantasy of our wildest dreams? What is it really like to live amongst nature?
I decided to find this out for myself and immerse myself in this lifestyle for a day.
Here is everything I observed from a day spent with Moroccan Berbers and everything the mountains taught me.
My morning started in the heart of Marrakesh; the chaotic and bustling medina.
Mopeds whizzed inches past me, sellers approached me left right and centre, and my ears were flooded by the sounds of blaring horns.
After a few hectic days in the city, it was safe to say I was ready for a bit of fresh air.
That’s when I spotted her; amidst the chaos, I saw a woman with the most radiant, peaceful energy.
Despite the madness unfolding around her, she was smiley, composed, and warm.
Little did I know that this was the woman that would reshape my reality.
Nezha was a twenty-two-year-old Berber and had spent her entire life living in the Atlas Mountains with her grandmother.
Berbers have a long history dating back thousands of years, and they are the original pre-Arab inhabitants of North Africa.
From the desert dunes to the height of the frosty mountains, they have learned to adapt to extreme conditions and have diverse communities spread across North Africa.
Although far apart, each community shares in common a spirit of resilience and harmony with nature.
Their culture is one that has shaped modern Morocco, and their traditions have stood the test of time. These communities are still renowned for their artisan skills, vibrant clothing, and hospitality as a way of life.
Nezha’s daily routine consisted of walking half an hour to school in the freezing mountain air. In this time, she and her sister would share their hopes and dreams of life outside their hometown.
One day, this dream came to fruition. As she grew older, she was finally able to experience life beyond the mountains and travel the world.
And yet, she ultimately wound up back in the mountains.
“Trust me, dear Sarah,” she said, “There is nothing better than life in the mountains.”
As someone who is eager to go out and explore and find my place in the world, I was intrigued about what made this place so special.
At first, I’ll admit, it was hard to see.
Life in the mountains, whilst surrounded by stunning scenery, was not for the faint hearted.
I observed extreme poverty, people living with so little and doing tiresome manual labour just to get by.
It was not exactly a picturesque village. The houses were simple, run-down, and fragile, offering little protection from the intense cold.
The streets were rocky and treacherous, filled with piles of rubbish and inhabited by stray animals.
As we walked towards her grandmother’s house, I’ll admit I was struggling.
The severe weather conditions meant that I was fighting just to walk without toppling over the edge of a cliff.
I wrestled my way up the rocky and slippery hill, with sand violently blowing in my eyes.
But when I looked up, I saw an old woman pass me. She was walking up the same hill as us with no issue, carrying a heavy load on her head.
This youthful and optimistic spirit was one that all the locals carried. Despite the barriers that life had thrown at them, they simply persisted as though there was not a worry in the world.
Most people would step inside this village and feel saddened by the poverty, but the locals didn’t seem to be struggling.
Children ran through the mountains barefoot playing football, giggling as they played. It was the heartwarming spirit of childhood that I had not witnessed in so long due to the digital age taking over.
Farmers tended their fields, chatting with each other and waving at passersby.
People nattered and laughed over warm cups of traditional Moroccan tea.
Everyone seemed so content to be alive.
I’ve seen some of the richest places in the world; the hustle and bustle of London or the bougee streets of Rome.
People have access to warm fancy apartments, the latest technology, and ample opportunities. And yet, many people seem closed off from the world.
All you have to do is take a walk down London to see that many people have the energy of zombies; their faces buried in phone screens or speed walking whilst keeping their gaze glued to the floor.
Often, the people that have the most can be the most miserable.
There I was, someone who had the privilege of warm clothes and being able to go home to a nice cozy bed, struggling to bear ten minutes in these conditions.
But for the locals here, this was a daily reality.
Nezha had spent her entire childhood walking thirty minutes in this extreme weather just to get to school.
However, she described this as ‘the best part of the day’
“It taught us to be happy and patient through good and bad,” she explained.
This happiness and patience was a contagious energy which permeated the village.
I visited a traditional argan oil shop to have a glimpse into how some locals worked. Rather than mass producing argan oil or food, they made it completely from scratch with their own two hands.
They sat in a tent in the mountains all day long, grinding the natural seeds and ingredients.
It was a strenuous and repetitive job, one that many people would consider ‘boring.’
And yet, they performed every part of this process with such joyous energy. They had the most contagious smile on their faces, sharing laughs with each other and singing as they worked.
They greeted me with the brightest, most welcoming smile that made me feel as though I was stepping into a home I never knew I had.
Most people strive for jobs with high status and income.
These women, despite doing a task so simple and having such an ‘average’ job, seemed to be happier than any CEO I had ever seen.
They didn’t make a lot of money from it, but they had the currency of community and watching people smile as they tasted their flavourful fresh dips.
Nezha also led us inside her grandmother’s house for a spot of lunch.
The house itself sat at the very top of a large cliff-face, and had a small, simple interior with basic furniture and infested with flies.
Despite the humble interior, the house was so alive and homely. The furniture and design was vibrant, with every last crevice filled with colour and intricate patterns.
Beyond the unique design, was a bustling energy of a family living with passion. The kitchen was filled with a dedicated family working tirelessly with the people they loved most, and the smell of fresh vegetables permeated the air.
Nezha instantly greeted them with hugs and smiles, before leading us to our seats.
We sat around a long table on simple, cushioned seats, accompanied by a cheeky resident cat determined to steal our food.
As we settled in, a loud thud jolted us to attention. The wind had caused the door to slam and completely shatter.
A noise that was utterly alarming to us seemed like a normal occurrence to the family, and they simply continued on with a smile.
We could smell a trail of goodness as the sizzling food was neatly arranged in front of us. A variety of traditional Moroccan cuisine was distributed throughout the table to be shared amongst us.
I was sat amongst complete strangers, and yet it felt like I was having a family meal. People passed each other food down the table, nattered with loved ones and strangers alike, and bonded over the flavourful, freshly made food.
People I hardly knew soon became like family.
It may not have been a fancy restaurant, but every bite felt like luxury, because I could taste the love in every mouthful.
Every task, whether it be work or just simply greeting people, was done with this same love and care.
Nezha said that if she could describe life in the mountains in one word, it would be ‘beauty.’
She said that it wasn’t always an easy life, and I certainly sensed this. Life here felt challenging, and I witnessed poverty and struggle all around me.
But the sense of community shone brighter.
Everyone knew everyone and greeted each other with a smile as they passed.
And although I knew nobody here, I was welcomed with open arms and treated as one of their own.
Nezha described her community, “People here really love each other and there is a spirit of helping everyone, you never feel like you are alone and there is always a shoulder to lay on.”
“It is the soul of life,” she explained, “Everyone is happy and you don’t have to worry, there’s children running in the mountains, hearing laughs of ladies in front of the doors, and having tea with gossips, I think it’s a really nice life.”
I had to take a step back from to realise how much I’d been searching for excess, for the promotion, the money, the next big task.
But as I gazed up at the frosty mountains, I realised everything I ever needed was right in front of me.
In the laughs echoing through the hills, the freshly brewed cups of tea, and the warm embraces; I could only think of one word to describe it.
Beautiful
When I arrived back in England, I found myself complaining about the bitter cold in true British fashion. As I battled my way through the howling wind, I paused for a second and held the image of the Berber’s in my mind.
I took a deep breathe, and smiled.
“You will always have a home here in Morocco.”
I will always have a piece of the mountains in my heart; they have shown me that home is never something I have to search for.
It’s in the trees, the people, the nature all around me.
Beauty was within me all along; they just showed me how to access it.
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