Finding simplicity again, on my 25th wedding anniversary in Africa

Dear friends,

I felt on top of the world on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary this February. Literally, we were perched 350 feet above ground on the jaw-dropping Atlas Mountains of North Africa, located a hundred miles roughly from Marrakech, their grandeur spanning 1,600 miles across the Maghreb region of Morocco, Tunisia, and Algeria. Figuratively too, I was in seventh heaven, breathing the crisp mountain air and marveling at the stark contrast of the snow-capped mountains engulfing us, and the red desert landscape we left behind near Marrakech, mentally reconciling the conflicting topographies.

The majestic Atlas Mountains of North Africa were a wonderful gradation of barren brown below and pristine white at their peak.

As we made our way up toward Ouzoud waterfalls, nestled in the snow-speckled bosom of the Mid Atlas range, I was struck by the remoteness of the landscape. Yet, this simple vastness was home to the Amazigh people (who we pejoratively and sadly refer to as Berber) living in plain concrete dwellings that dotted the mountainside (see picture below) as if to convey that despite their bare bones appearance, these modest homes too have stood the test of time with their companion mountains. Some homes were rudimentary structures without windows even, and others were being refurbished into rentals for tourists seeking to hike or bike up the mountains perennially, explained our fabulous young guide, Youness Ali, from the nearby village of Ait Souka.

Having grown up myself in a tiny 600 square foot apartment in Mumbai, India, I get the idea of humility in simple living. But simplicity somewhat took a toss after moving to the Occidental West many years back. Now settled in a rather large home in America, I realize it takes concerted work as mom, wife, and woman to keep things simple across the board for the family, anchored as we are in the complex and fast-paced lifestyle of a modern capitalistic society. While the American transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau’s words, “Simplify, simplify” flash at me every day from the cold steel of my refrigerator door, it’s only when you see down-to-earth subsistence and existence like this that the reality of simplicity sears your soul.

Simplicity is hard work, but you’ve got to keep on it, or else it turns complex on you.

An Amazigh dwelling etched into the mountainside on our way up the Atlas Mountains.

The humble mountain mule was a steadfast fixture on our route that morning. I paused to admire the tenacity of the animal trying to hold itself upright while lugging weight twice or thrice its size, despite a clearly buckling hind leg—injured probably from carrying heavy loads as its ancestors did, being the backbone of trade for centuries. I mean, to what geography has this dear animal not been and what has it not done with grit and admittedly a nudge, push, and shove from humankind? From being sent as gifts to Solomon in the Bible to helping Hannibal cross the Alps to carrying food, ammunition, supplies, and injured soldiers during WWI and WWII, the mule has served humankind quietly and with unflinching loyalty.

Simply carry on despite adversities, the mule seemed to say to me that morning, as I huffed and puffed toward my destination on the mountain, and in life. 

The mountain mule waiting to get loaded for its daily job climbing up and down the mountains. It’s a regular figure in the life of the local residents.

Lo and behold, defying every modern safety convention, elementary school kids sped down the muddy meandering mountain paths on rickety bikes—no helmets in sight—flashing toothy smiles and waving at us tourists making our way to the top. The mountains were their regular playground as well as their daily transit to school, around 20-30 minutes each way, Youness informed us. I was mentally drawing an image of kids trudging up the incline, tired, on their way back home after school! The village had a high school that was located much further away—with bus service thank God—but Youness reminisced how growing up, he (and his parents) had to be prepared to board overnight at school in case of bad weather, mountain path closures, or just plain ill-luck at not being able to snitch a ride back home. My own morning routine back in America, which to me seemed chaotic with work, prepping lunch for my son’s school, and the customary 1-mile drive to drop off without any mountainous terrain hazard whatsoever—paled in comparison!

 “Adults follow paths. Children explore.” Neil Gaiman’s words came to mind as we stayed on our charted path that morning. Seen through a child’s eyes, life is simply wondrous, but it’s work—albeit meaningful—for an adult to keep it that way.

Local village children of Amazigh origin living in the valley.

“Let’s hurry up,” said Youness. “I can see a tunnel of gray clouds approaching us, it’ll get very cold soon.” He spoke with the confidence of an informed meteorologist, not an airline steward or an English student that he was. Lo and behold, he was right! By the time we scurried down to our lunch spot in the Imlil valley below, it was too cold to sit out on the deck of the family-run restaurant and eat. Instead, we huddled indoors in an oblong room with solid wooden paneling and multiple large windows overlooking gorgeous mountain vistas. We feasted on a simple meal of rice and fresh vegetable tagine presented with a flourish by Youness and in the company of five college kids, two of Indian origin from the United Kingdom and three of Mexican, Romanian, and Dutch origin from the Netherlands. Fancy all of us meeting in Morocco, North Africa—the world indeed is a small place!

Steamy fresh tagine served using fresh vegetables of the season from the mountains.

It was chatting and laughter galore, reminding us of our own college days back in Florida where we met, 27 years back to be precise! Gosh, were we that old now? I did not feel old in my heart—well maybe in my body at times, and my soul has (thankfully) aged—but life was now indeed on a finite track now, minus the endless possibilities of youth. Listening to the kids talk about their studies, aspirations, and problems adjusting as immigrants, I felt part protective mom and part cheerful friend, all through sharing the infectious exuberance and enthusiasm of youth. We were precisely those young immigrant kids arriving in America three decades back and today, stand quite successful by any standards.  On the way back to our hotel in our van on precariously narrow mountain roads, we listened to the Bollywood singer Arijit croon his romantic “Tum hi ho” number and the upbeat tempo of Ahmed Chawki’s “Haddidi I love you” featuring our own Pitbull’s rap kept us in good cheer. Yes, the world was indeed a small place.

Youth is a throwback to simplicity. Let’s keep life alive with good company, good food, and a few good laughs every day. Maybe it’s as simple as that.

The gorgeous Imlil Valley is usually the main base for ascending the Toubkal mountains, the tallest mountain in the Atlas range of North Africa.

Intentional serendipity—I have lived life just about long enough to realize that nothing happens by accident. Even serendipity is meant to be. That day was put there as a simple reminder of a few things forgotten on our special day: simplicity is the essence of beauty in life, and meaningful people and experiences are the essence of life itself!

How do you keep it simple in life? Does simplicity matter to you as much? Do share your thoughts.

Meaningfully yours,
Anu

PS: You can What’s App Youness at +212-679-426764 to arrange day trips from Marrakech and be guaranteed an amazing and meaningful time!