Ifrane de Anti-Atlas – Oct 23

It would have been easier to arrive by car but of course I didn’t have that luxury. Instead I took a grand taxi from Tiznit to Bou Izakern and from there another grand taxi to Ifrane. For some reason I keep on expecting there to be some sort of signage in these places but there never is. Ifrane of the Anti-Atlas is one of the earliest settled areas in Morocco. It also claims one of the oldest Jewish communities in Morocco. Some years ago the 1800-year-old synagogue was restored. All traditional building materials and methods were used. I must say that seeing that synagogue was definitely one my inspirations for coming to Morocco. I arrived in Ifrane to learn that the mellah was 3 kilometers further than where I had arrived. I had some walking to do. I decided to walk through the villages that line the dry riverbed and that are flanked by palm trees rather than follow the road. I crossed over from the road noticing the unique Berber cemeteries that are really a site to see (I promised I will post when I get back to the US and have a reliable internet connection). Walking through these small villages was definitely worth it. Time had really stopped here or at least appeared to and it was a wonderfully relaxing walk only interrupted by my stopping woman working the field or doing laundry to ask if I was headed in the right direction.

Finally, finally, I arrived at the mellah. I saw a construction site and asked the men there and the only ones I could see where the synagogue was. It was right next door. The guardian came and opened the door for me as his 10 year old son watched me take pictures of this beautiful synagogue. You could imagine men praying in here. You had to use your imagination but it was possible. It was mud brick with a skylight. Just enough light was let in to be perfect. Benches wrapped around the exterior of the interior and there it was in the middle of nowhere. I asked the son to take me to the cemetery that I knew was nearby (there are actually two but I only went to the adult cemetery). I didn’t expect to find anything knowing that some of the last tombstones with Hebrew inscriptions had been removed the Jewish museum in Casablanca. There was a mausoleum there and by the mausoleum I noticed a unique stone. I looked closer and asked my new friend to take a look as well. There was Hebrew on this stone. Who knows how old it is exactly but it was part of a 2000 year old community no matter how recent the inscription was. I put the stone in the mausoleum to protect it from the weather. The word SHNAT (as in Hebrew for year, as in the year of death) was visible. I headed back to the synagogue and the guardian started showing me what the construction was for. He was building an auberge, a guesthouse, next to the synagogue. He was going to call it “Auburge du Mellah.” I actually thought it was a great idea and told him to email me when it opens. I was cold and not feeling great however. I was sort of tired of talking and asked him if it was easy to get back to where I could pick up a grand taxi.

You’re not going to join us for lunch? He asked.
Sure. I said.

I was so hungry and tired and it was the perfectly placed invitation. He invited me into his home and put on a dvd for me. It was a Moroccan news story on the Jewish history of Ifrane of the anti-Atlas. His daughter then brought out a beautiful tagine for us. We all ate together: me, the guardian, his son, the construction workers, and one of their sons. It was a very fun and warm experience. We finished our tagine and in my mind I admitted to myself that it was good but I was still a little hungry. Then the daughter brought out a second tagine. I was very happy. We finished our meal with fresh pomegranates and thanked everyone for the meal. The guardian then handed me the Arabic language dvd on the Jewish history of his village. I couldn’t accept it but he told me I must and that he had a second copy. I was full and walked away with an amazing gift.

On my walk home I envisioned how special it would be to spend a night in the auberge with a group of young Jews. We could easily walk to that old, old synagogue and pray there once again. Hopefully this can be arranged in the near future.

Back to Tiznit – Oct 22

I arrived back in Tiznit a little disappointed but realized that just going to this village would have been enough (in the spirit of dayeinu) but speaking with folks there and seeking out the remnants of Jewish history was an accomplishment in and of itself. For the life of me I couldn’t find the cemetery in Tiznit. This is usually the easiest thing to find in a city. I decided to call it quits so to speak and to hop into a taxi. The driver took me straight to the cemetery. It was surrounded by wall but clearly there was no guardian. The only door in was locked. The walls were high. There was a pile of rocks in which I could peer over just enough to confirm that this was indeed the cemetery. Only a few dozen graves remained and I couldn’t get a good enough look to determine whether or not there still remained any Hebrew. I decided to try and jump the wall. I first had to make sure there were no guard dogs inside that were ready to attack. The whole experience was surreal and eerie. There was decaying livestock around the cemetery and I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I nonetheless pulled together large stones and cement block in order to get myself to such a position where I would be able to pull myself to the top of the wall. I did so successfully (after a few tries) and walked the length of the wall to an area where I could safely let myself down. I approached the remaining graves, constantly looking behind me, but found no Hebrew inscriptions left. Then I noticed a dog. A dead dog. I couldn’t figure out how it got in or how it died but it was very, very unpleasant. I took my pictures and left quickly having been just a little bit spooked.

Assaka – Oct 22

I headed for Assaka the next morning. I had a few old pictures of Assaka that I was hoping to employ to my benefit. There was once a mellah in Assaka and I hoped something of it still remained. I also hoped to find the cemetery. I took a grand taxi to Assaka but the driver overshot it (maybe just to emphasize its size) and I ended up having to take another grand taxi back in order to finally reach Assaka. I got out of the taxi and realized I had finally reached the middle of nowhere. The only shop in town was the butcher who I quickly asked about the Jewish cemetery. He was old enough to remember Jews and indeed he pointed me in that vague straight head direction that I often get here. I started walking in that direction when I heard someone whistle at me. My friend had enlisted the help of his younger friend Larbi. Both spoke Chleuh (Berber) and Arabic. They asked me if I spoke Chleuh as there was a Peace Corps volunteer in the area who had apparently mastered it, I obviously didn’t. I explained to them what I was looking for and they took me straight to the mellah which was a few kilometers back. It was in complete ruins due to lack of upkeep, the mud brick nature of the dwellings, and the extreme weather conditions. It was still very interesting to try and visualize this site. They then took me to a house adjacent to a mosque. One of the oldest men I have yet to see in Morocco exited. He was the local expert on all things Jewish having worked with (or for, I wasn’t sure) Jews decades ago. He gave him a few names I was curious about and he pointed out there houses to me. He then directed Larbi and his older friend (who was also named Larbi) to where the cemetery was on the mountain. The old man could not endure the walk and instead proceeded to shout directions to us for the 20 minutes (higher/to the right/those are just rocks). We found the cemetery but it wasn’t much to look at. You had to seriously use your imagination but it was there. We headed back and the Larbis helped me hail a grand taxi. The younger Larbi began to impress with his knowledge of Jewish history of the area. He referenced Ifrane (which has an 1800 year old synagogue and where I was headed the next day) and the Tafraoute region. I was impressed.

Tiznit – Oct 21

After discussing my itinerary with my friend I decided to skip Agadir and head straight for Tiznit. It was truly one of the worst bus rides of my life but I survived and lived to tell the tale. I decided that I was going to use Tiznit as a base, exploring nearby cities in the morning and returning the afternoon to explore Tiznit’s old and new mellah and cemetery. I was hoping at least to find the Shimon Bar Yochai Synagogue in Tiznit but I didn’t. The first day I arrived I simply got my bearings, found the mellah, and headed to bed relatively early.

Essaouira: Part II – Oct 20

I had asked my friend the previous night if I could shadow him as he gave a tour to an elderly couple from Australia. I woke up and met them at the Jewish cemetery and from there we headed to the second cemetery just across the road. This cemetery contained the grave of Haim Pinto, a tzaddik whose annual hilloula draws thousands from across the world. From there we headed to the Haim Pinto synagogue in the mellah which has been restored by the Pinto family and is one of the few well signposted Jewish sites in all of Morocco. Inside we met a lovely Jewish couple from Seattle. We ended up walking through the mellah together, passing the last Jewish shop in Essaouira (there are 4 Jews left in Essaouira), the outside of the Attias Synagogue (closed for restoration since 1993) and having a drink together in the main square. My friend then continued his trip and I for the first time played the part of tour guide. I took the Seattle couple to take a look at the Jewish cemetery (which they hadn’t seen) back through the mellah and for a fresh fish lunch. They were so excited and so interested and I only wish I had met them earlier to give them a tour of all that I had seen.

Essaouira – Oct 19

I decided to skip in Safi in order to meet a friend (in fact not just any friend but the only Jewish tour guide in North Africa) in Essaouira. We were to discuss my itinerary and some plans for restoring some breathtaking synagogues and cemeteries here. Upon arriving in Essaouira I headed straight for my hotel, which was located in the old mellah. I threw my stuff down and headed for the cemetery. Essaouira, like the other coastal towns, once had a significant Jewish community. The cemetery was well kept (by the famous Pinto family) and including a number of tzaddikim. I headed back to my hotel through the mellah noticing the sorry state of the neighborhood but also a number of obvious remnants of what was once Jewish including Stars of David above a number of the houses. I ate fresh fish on the boardwalk and had a wonderful conversation with my friend. We discussed restoration priorities and trip details. One interesting note is that there is so much Jewish history here that it is often difficult to keep track of. So for example I had shown my friend my itinerary and had added question marks if I was unsure whether synagogues or cemeteries were in any sort of shape or still existed. He told me in most cases that I should keep the question mark, as he was not sure if the cemetery still existed either. We drank tea and coffee until the wee hours of the Moroccan night (about 11) and then headed back to our respective hotels.

Azemour Cemetery

A number of people I had met with had told me that if they could choose a cemetery to restore it would be the one at Azemour. I of course had to find it. I knew it would be outside of the old city and close to the mellah. I left the old city to find a spot where I could survey the area adjacent to river. I saw a small grass area about 1.5 miles to the north of the city and what looked like white tombs in terrible condition. This had to be it I thought. There was no way to get there other than to hike. The area seemed deserted except for a few kids playing in the river and a lone fisherman. I reached the site that I had seen from the old city and discovered that I wasn’t looking at a cemetery but instead mounds of rock, plaster, and concrete. I knew the cemetery had to have been close but I couldn’t find it. It was surprisingly hot and I was still sick and decided to head back. On my way back I noticed the oldest man I had seen in a long time. We exchanged greetings and I asked him where the cemetery was. He gave me directions back to the place I had already been. I decided to walk back that way anyway to give it another shot. Then I saw a father with his two children. Fathers with their children are always a safe bet for me.

Do you know where the Jewish cemetery is?
Sure. Head straight to the river…
Yes, I was already there but where exactly?
You see that collection of trees?
Yes.
There.
Amongst the trees?
Yes.

So I headed back and got lost. A man passed and he told me I need to climb up the hill and on the other side I would find the cemetery. Normally it is not that difficult to find a cemetery as it is surrounded by walls and has a single entrance. However there were no walls and so I didn’t have an obvious land marker. I climbed up the hill and found it. The first graves I found were worn and without inscription but as I ascended further I could see why this cemetery was so special. Beautiful, old tombstones with legible Hebrew inscriptions everywhere. I kept walking. I noticed a sign in Arabic. It said: Entrance Forbidden. Hmm. Who does this apply to I thought? What were the consequences? I heard a dog bark. Then a man about my age appeared. He had a bloody nose and was holding a rusty saw and a 2 x 4. Well I thought, I guess it is forbidden to enter.

Can I enter?
No.
Why?
It’s forbidden.

This continued for a minute before I explained to him who I was and that I was Jewish myself. He agreed to show me the cemetery, including the most recent tombs. I asked if I could walk around by myself and he said no. We played that game for a short while until he gave me a couple minutes if I agreed to walk back to the city with him. As we left he told me that the area was dangerous. There were many thieves. Sometimes people say things like that. I can never tell how real the danger is or who they would actually rob as I was the only one walking this path when I returned. Nonetheless he walked me back. He showed me his ID. He was only a year older than me. I told him that. He finally smiled.