Village Stay

This past weekend I left to spend 5 days in the small village of Beni Amir about 3 hours south of Rabat. Beni Amir is a small community of only a few hundred people. It is near the city of Fqih Ben Saleh which is a part of a trio of cities known as the “Triangle of Death.” The other two points of the triangle are Khouribga and Beni Mellal. A large percentage of people from these cities attempt to migrate to Europe and many have died trying to get there. Everyone in the village of Beni Amir knew at least one family member who has attempted to migrate to Europe so the visit was a great opportunity to learn about migration and its effects firsthand.

We arrived in Beni Amir around noon on Saturday to countless stares. Being a small community of mostly farmers, 13 American college students definitely stood out like a sore thumb. Additionally, we were only the second Americans to have visited the village so our presence was met with a good deal of curiosity. After having lunch with the president of a local association (Oulad Ghanem) at his house, we met our host families and moved in. I lived with a small family that included a mother (Fatima), a father (Falah?), a daughter (Layla, 17), and a son (Abdelhafid, 10). Although most families in the village only speak Darija, my host father spoke French and the kids were learning French in school. Communication was a challenge for me but because each host family hosted two students, and because my roommate spoke some French, we were able to have some conversation.

Our family lived on a farm that had six cows, at least one donkey, a couple horses, several chickens, a couple dogs, roughly a million flies, and a kitten that could fit in the palm of your hand. We learned that just about everything we ate was fresh from our host family’s farm. Olive trees grew on the land so we had fresh olives and olive oil with just about meal. The butter and honey were also made from scratch and tasted delicious. Bread (khobz) was made at home and cooked in an outdoor mud oven. One morning, we woke up at the crack of dawn to watch the mother milk the cows. She filled up one large bucket of milk that we later had for breakfast that morning. The rest of the milk was put in a bottle and taken to the village milk co-op. We learned that the milk co-op is a new project funded by the government as part of an initiative to support human development. Members of the community contribute milk every day to a collection tank where it is stored and cooled. The amount each family contributes is measured and recorded. The milk eventually gets taken to the city to be analyzed and then is distributed to large companies like Dannon to be used in their yoghurt and cheese products. The villagers receive about 3 dh (about $0.33)/ liter of milk and can receive more depending on the overall quality of the milk. It was very interesting to watch all the villagers come to the co-op in the morning after milking their cows to drop off their milk.

My host family lived in a fairly large house that was also fairly empty. The furniture in the main living room/salon where we slept consisted of rugs that covered the concrete floor and two small moveable tables. We ate all meals sitting on the ground around one of these tables. However, due to the abundance of rugs and movability of the tables, mealtime took place wherever seemed most convenient. Dishes were washed outside on a small concrete slab and our bathroom was an outhouse with a Turkish toilet inside.

During our stay here, we had discussions with village locals to hear their stories and ask them questions relating to migration and its effect on their community. Because life in the village is more traditional than in the city, gender roles are divided clearly. All women wear a hijab (veil to cover the hair) and are responsible for things within the private sphere of life including raising the children, taking care of household chores, and cooking. Men are responsible for financial support and things involved within the public sphere. Because of this divide, we held two sessions: one for the women of the village and one for the men. Some of the men told stories of crossing into Europe illegally. Some succeeded, others were deported. The men told us how happy they were to have Americans visit so we could tell everyone at home that the people of Morocco are kind, welcoming, and peace-loving Muslims. The women all shared a desire to do something more with their lives. Women in the village often marry as young as 14 and because of this, most have only an 8th grade education. Many shared a strong desire to go to Europe and when asked who their ideal man was, they described him as a “non-smoker, non-drinker, good Muslim man.” Migrants who had been to Europe were also seen as attractive.

This short trip was a unique and special experience that won’t soon be forgotten. Other highlights of this trip included a visit to the local preschool and kindergarten to teach the children English numbers and letters, a visit to the weekly souk where you buy or sell just about anything, and a visit to the waterfall in Beni Mellal. I will try to put up pictures soon.

One last note: For those concerned about the safety of the region following the spread of the anti-Muslim film and the subsequent riots throughout the Muslim world, there is no need to worry. Protests were held in Casablanca on Sept. 12th but were not violent. I have felt completely safe while here and I have not witnessed any hostility towards Americans.

Anyways, that’s all for now. Thanks for reading!