0193. The Coolest Village in all Morocco (Mor 042—new)
I scrambled back and forth around the base up the cliff trying to find a way up. around me were olive trees each with a trough for irrigation. Apparently, even at these steep angles, folks have figured out a way to channel water to each of these trees... Finally I find a steep path that leads to the top of the cliff... and into a new world.
All of a sudden, instead tortured cliffs and rugged mountainside I was in the cool, narrow alleyways of a village that seems to hav been frozen in time. Other than the electric wires attached to the mud walls, there's no way to tell what century--or millenium I'm in. All is silent as I wander about, determined to soak in every single inch of this place.
Suddenly a herd of little girls burst out through a doorway, breaking the solemn silence.
But the girls keep insisting, promising me that no one will be upset... so I finally give in...
End up being the best decision I've made in a long time.
After a little, a couple of young boys pop out from the ancient doorways... then some older fellows... no one seems to be angry... Finally the gesture to me to follow them through a winding tunnel that goes underneath the houses and the walls to the very edge of the precipice.
"Here's a great place for you to play" they tell me.
And thus begins one of my best parkbenching sessions ever... in this ancient village perched at the top of a cliff with a stunning view that goes all the way to Guercif 60 Kms away... surrounded by a very eager audience that insists that I translate and explain every song that I sing...
After a while they invite me indoors--"this used to be the home of the Q'aid (tribal leader)" I was told. No one is living there right now, so it became my little concert hall at they shared their freshly baked bread, tea and olive oil with me.
I tried to insist that I would pay for food and lodging for the night, but of course they refused. I'll have to find some other way to show my appreciation to these wonderful folks. We stayed on the top floor, while the lifestock stayed on the bottom floor.
"We get snow here sometimes" I was told "we have to keep livestock indoors or they'll freeze"
An older fellow, a university professor in Fes, gave me a bit of the history of the place. "Folks in this village fought and resisted during the entire French colonial period. While other villages accepted the French rule, Rchida never did". Suddenly the pieces started coming together--the ruins of the French garrison... the village perched on top of a cliff fighting for their freedom... pure poetry...
A couple of the young fellows invited me for a hike up the mountains behind Rchida... so off we went... On the way we met up with the local sheepherders who tend to the sheep of the entire village. "At the end of the day, each sheep and goat runs off to its home--they all know what home they belong to.
Just two of the guys were game for finishing the hike to the top so we headed on... Thunder rolled and lightning flashed as a dark summer storm moved in from the valley below... But no one ever EVER complains about the rain here in Morocco...
And just as we reached the top, away from the protection of the cliffs, the rain let loose... But the other two fellows seemed to be enjoying the adventure as much as me and we didn't care...
It was worth the climb. To the east of us was the vast, semi forested Rekkem Plateau that goes on as far as the eye can see... "No one lives here" they told me... "only an occasional nomadic herdsman with his flocks... you can hike on and on for days this direction--but you'd better bring plenty of water"...
It's getting late so we head back into town to where we could drink water straight out of the spring--then they took me to the village leader to get "official permission" for me to stay there.
I'd made a promise to my knew friends... I would write a song dedicated to their village. And it was a promise I was determined to keep. After supper, we headed outdoors to relax and play some more music and the song finally came together...
THE PEOPLE OF RCHIDA
In the dry barren valley below a garrison was built by the French
Determined that they would control the village perched up on the cliff
They had fierce weapons and legionnaires they ruled almost half of the world
But the people of this land had no fear determined their culture would be preserved
///The people of Rchida
Believe in freedom///
They built their village on the top of a cliff surrounded by layers of walls
The fought resisted to the end and drank water that sprang from the rock
In the end the French gave up and left the garrison is nothing but ruins
But that village still flourishes thanks to these people who clung to their roots.
Nowadays you can visit that town, there's a path carved into the cliff
The people still noble and proud but if you come and show them respect
No matter where you are from you'll be invited into their homes
They'll treat you as a friend share with you bread and olive oil
I sang that song on request maybe 40 times over the next two days...
My rule of thumb is, as long as I have people eager to listen, I will be eager to sing. But in Rchida, I met my match. At 2 o'clock in the morning I still had folks eager to listen to my songs... Finally I decided I had to call it a day...
At 7 in the morning my hosts were up and eager to go... so I definitely didn't want to slow them down.
Nobody ever heard of... I dunno... candles!?
Some cool stalagtites and stalagmites... limestone "waterfalls"... and of course, best of all, the feeling that we were really "discovering"...
We wandered about a bit more... I took some more pictures and clips for a special "Rchida music video" I promised to make...
And then... my Rchida adventure came to a close...
Definitely one of my best parkbenching adventures ever...
