La Presse in Morocco | Villages left to their own devices

(Taroudant, Morocco) Three days after the earthquake which hit southern Morocco on September 8, the death toll, still provisional, stands at more than 2,800 dead and 2,500 injured. Hundreds of localities have been affected, more or less severely.

In the province of Taroudant, one of the most seriously affected by the earthquake, the population is mobilizing to help the victims of the tragedy. But help is slow in reaching the most isolated villages. Without water or electricity, the victims are still waiting for life-saving aid.

In the city center of Taroudant, a town of 90,000 inhabitants, located an hour by car from Agadir and three hours from Marrakech, around ten trucks are parked. Lined up on the sidewalk, two drivers, Aziz and Omar, prepare to eat while waiting for papers from the authorities which will allow them to deliver tents to the surrounding mountain villages. “Each truck contains 300,” explains Aziz. These vehicles still need to be able to access all villages. The operation promises to be painful and demanding.

What we call mountain villages here – douar in Arabic – it is a string of hamlets which sometimes only include a few houses. As soon as they leave the city, they take to the winding roads. Up to Tamaloukt, they are still passable. Then another journey begins. Nothing has been cleared yet. On the edge, under the blazing midday sun, a lone man tries to clear the bitumen from the rocky debris.

First, the route is strewn with stones, later it is rocks and finally, huge chunks of mountain between which it becomes difficult, and daring, to slalom. All this complicates rescue operations.

The organization of survival in the mountains

There are the towns which were almost spared and those of which nothing remains, wiped out by the violence of the earthquake. In Tamaloukt, a few houses were destroyed. This is also the case a little further away, in Ait Taleb. A small group of men are working to secure what is hanging by a thread.

Two things are of particular concern. The first, electrical wires were damaged by walls falling on them. The second, the corrugated wrought iron which decorated all the windows threatens to fall. The faces are closed, everyone is still shaken.

Between the hamlets, on the sides of the roads, we come across groups of families and friends. They walk to reach the localities around them and get news.

In the middle of nowhere, a large tent is pitched, no village is visible around it. The green and red flag of Morocco flutters in the wind, hanging at the entrance. Despite the state of the roads, a small ballet of cars and motorcycles circulates. Landslides and the narrowness of certain streets make the task of crossing paths relatively complicated, which ends up creating dangerous traffic jams. Suddenly, a two-wheeler traveling at high speed appears. In the front, a 5-year-old child is asleep. The man driving holds the handlebars with one hand and the little girl’s head with the other.

After the winding roads, the car advances meter by meter for around ten minutes, until it becomes completely impassable. You must then get out of the vehicle and continue on foot. Another 30 minutes are needed, including a good twenty minutes uphill on a steep slope on the mountainside. There is dust everywhere, the trees are covered in it, which gives them a strange appearance, as if they were dead.

The end of the journey is trying. Arriving at Missirat, there is collapse on all sides. Impossible to understand how the douar was originally. Nothing is left. Not a single house resisted. Those that have not been reduced to dust threaten to collapse at any moment. A response would be fatal. Official figures are difficult to confirm; villagers speak of 16 deaths. Maybe more. There are 32 survivors.

A 10-year-old child is sitting alone. “She lost her entire family,” whispers Yousra*, 28, who came to visit relatives. Faced with the desolate spectacle, she loses her temper: “There is nothing here, the representatives of the municipality have not cleared the road, it remains very difficult to access, there are only tents and even then, there is a lot missing. People sleep outside in catastrophic conditions; at night, it is cold for children and babies. They give blankets and mattresses, but it’s not enough, people suffer a lot. There is no water, no electricity. »

In this total destitution, under the single stretched white canvas which serves as a house for the rest of the village, couscous is prepared, couscous is shared. With everyone who makes it this far. And rare, but welcoming words.

A few kilometers away, in Afensou, larger in size than Missirat, it is the same observation. Few buildings still stand. The minaret of the mosque is badly damaged, as is the prayer room, which is cracked. You have to make your way to cross and be careful. The rocks roll underfoot, the ground is unstable. Yousra* takes a photo. That of a family home to which she sometimes went. A page that turns.

* First names are fictitious