The Amazigh Resistance (Part 1)

Sitting in a room in a Dar Chebab (youth center), I was working on an environmental education lesson with a colleague of mine for his class later in the day. The director was coming and going, doing “director” type things, whatever that means.

The room was warm, the sun was shining in… it was in fact, the first day of spring. My spring as well. I had recent upsurge in energy as the warm weather and sun over the past week made me feel pretty complete again (finally after so many months of blah-ness.) I had even hiked the past two days! But… back to the story.

The director walks back into the room, this time with an older gentleman. I try to guess his age, and, as most men here, it is pretty difficult once 50 hits. In Morocco, everything ages quickly. I may have gray hair when I come back. So a 40 year old man might actually look 55. It is crazy. Years of hard work and poor health customs bring this abound. Wow, once again, I digress.

He speaks to us in greetings (typical) and like many old men, I have no idea what he is saying. I mean, I know what he is saying, but if it weren’t a greeting I would certainly not understand his old jargon of marble-filled mouth, much like a winner of Hungry-Hungry Hippos.

The man sits down, and we all got some tea… with sugar of course… you know, Moroccan custom. I think nothing of it, and continue the conversation about the lesson planning. The director of the Dar Chebab sits down and talks with the man. The man is dressed like any old man really. I cannot see his pants, but his top consists of three layers (typical… and if I never knew how to layer before, I do now!) The first is an undershirt of sorts, maybe a T-shirt, I don’t know. The next layer is a sweater, yellow wool, looks warm and cozy, and certainly has been around the block a few times (as I said, aging occurs quickly here.)To top everything off, the man is wearing a pseudo-Russian style fur hat, and has a cane.

A few minutes pass, and the director perks up from across the table and gives us the news. We are sitting in the room with a colonial resistance fighter. The director goes on to explain everything is detail.

The man was from the area, and helped to resist the French Colonialism back in the 1940′s and 50′s… So the tail end of Colonial rule. The director explains to me that there was a big battle at Tazizout, a local area near here, and he helps the fighters with supplies and information. He goes on to say that this man was captured at some point during the resistance and spent two years in prison. When he was released, he had to pay a sum of money, and sold his local Hanuts (stores) to pay. I then learn the amount he paid, and the amount the Hanuts are worth today (I mean inflation not accounted for etc.)

I am super intrigued, and kind of embarrassingly excited. I feel like I have insight into my own cultural past, and learning about  the history of those I live among is great. I know that learning the history will only help me in knowing how to handle future situations and conversations.

The conversation ends, and the man finds out I speak Tamazight. A large smile comes across his face, and he speaks to me in the language, except what comes out is a mix of Darija and Tamazight. I know this, and answer him. Then he points out a few words and says them like “tadout” which means “back.” We connect via language for a brief second, the smile still present, and then he gets up and leaves. I continue to think about the resistance for a bit, and wonder what those times held for people living  in the region, and in Morocco as a whole.

I know that throughout the Atlas mountains of Morocco, I have witnessed with my own eyes the remnants both of Colonialism (French, Spanish, Portugese), and the resistance movements to all of those. I have seen forts in the sides of mountains only accesible via tall ladder. Guns from the old days, and certainly I have walked and hiked on peaks one crawling with resistance fighters, and been in caves where people may have slept to get away. I see dams and roads all the time, and know that Morocco, without colonialism, would not be the same place it is today.

I might be glorifying it too much. I know fighting is not glorious, but the patriotism, the fight for the land that is rightfully your own is just passion at it’s very height.

Finally meeting a living body who certainly experienced immense tales was exhilarating. Knowing that he is probably one of only a small number remaining is sad. Almost definitely, his tale will not be heard outside this region. But I am sure it is a great one, and like all resistance tales, full of passion and hardships.

I am going to talk about the resistance in the next couple of entries. Here is how I want to tackle it:
1. Amazigh resistance of Arabic/Middle Eastern peoples (circa 700AD)
2. Moroccan resistance of Colonial rule (19th-20th Centuries)
3. Current struggles of Amazigh people and culture

Think of it as a history lesson. Class is in session. My goal in all of this is certainly to make you away of the past, and the current situations, and relate them to what we know in our own history. I hope you enjoy. I will try to make it interesting.