Dear readers,
My heart bled, like millions of others this morning, when I woke up to the devastating news that an earthquake of 6.8 magnitude struck the beautiful country of Morocco. One of the first pieces of news I read was that several villages in the beautiful Asni region outside of Marrakesh on the way towards the High Atlas Mountains, where the epicenter of the earthquake was located, were razed to the ground. We were at that very epicenter less than 6 months back to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary and in fact, my first blog on Substack, was inspired by the simplicity of life in this remote mountainous terrain of Morocco, where residents still use the mountain mule as a mode of transport and children run down dirt mountain roads to go to school every day. It was as if life was frozen in time and idyllic in a pastoral sort of way.
We visited this beautiful village of Azro in the Asni area, most severely affected by the earthquake. It was our first stop of the day in the High Atlas Mountains. The village, nestled in the rustic Atlas Mountains, used be a mixed community of Jews and Berbers. It boasted a magnificent locally-owned shop of collectibles (right).
The humble mountain mule was a steadfast fixture on our trek up the Atlas Mountains mountains as well as down in the village, where it was used to transport all sorts of goods. To the right, our group trekked up the mountain as a local Amazigh (pejoratively called Berber) girl ran down the mountain playing with her buddies.
That simplicity came to bite today. The news of the earthquake hit me with a double whammy, as my epiphany turned out to be a double-edge sword. The tragic reality was that most of the villagers who survived the earthquake are without food or shelter, given the very remoteness I so admired. Per some news stories, families are still waiting for assistance to pull out their dead loved ones from under the rubble. What was once a picturesque landscape of tiny mud houses dotting the hillside not only is a bunch of debris, but a terrifying scene of destruction and death.
Life changes in the blink of an eye.
I thought of our young tour guide Youness, also a student of English at the University of Marrakesh (I wrote about him in the blog)—who grew up in the Imlil valley breathing in the fresh mountain air, living an hour from the closest school, and predicting snow, cold, and other meteorological phenomenon by the look of the clouds around him. He grew up in tune with the mountains and remoteness, arguably foes today. I that prayed his family, some of who we met, was safe. The warmth of his village folks, who I fear have been deeply affected by this tragedy, was unmistakable—from drumming up piping hot vegetarian tagine in a jiffy for us 10-odd tourists, cold from being underdressed, to kissing Youness, a native of the village on his cheeks in a sign of greeting. I did not hear back yet from Youness.
Youness majorly impressed my son, who said he wanted to grow up to be like him—smart and also a very nice person. Best of both worlds.
The old town of Marrakesh, called the Medina, is also severely affected, with the Jemaa el-Fna Square, Marrakesh’s larger than life central plaza, typically a phantasmagoria of local culture and community blended with Arabian nights like storytellers and snake charmers, turning into sleeping quarters for locals and tourists, afraid to be indoors. The famous 12th century Kutubiyya mosque smoked up a cloud of dust if pictures are to be believed, and several of the old buildings have collapsed and tourists are stranded in disarray, with no flights out of the country (These pictures from the Washington Post that capture some of these events and more, are gripping).
The New York Times has listed different ways you can help. Please consider donating.
Sending the warmest wishes to the country that has always fascinated me and millions around the world. Can’t wait to hear back from Youness and see his native country back on its feet and running, Inshallah.
I end with this video taken on our way down from the High Atlas Mountains with the tune of a Bollywood number picked by Youness, playing in the background, to give you an idea of the sparse and mountainous terrain with homes typically clinging to the slopes. The song, while a romantic crooning from boy to girl, incidentally says, “You are my life…”.
Meaningfully yours,
Anu Prabhala
Thank you, Anu.