{"id":3178,"date":"2026-10-15T22:03:18","date_gmt":"2026-10-15T22:03:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/?p=3178"},"modified":"2026-10-15T22:03:18","modified_gmt":"2026-10-15T22:03:18","slug":"the-last-migration-walking-with-moroccos-nomadic-berber-tribes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/?p=3178","title":{"rendered":"The Last Migration: Walking with Morocco\u2019s Nomadic Berber Tribes"},"content":{"rendered":"

A persistent chorus of shrill bleats and guttural baas echoes across the canyons and basalt towers of Jebel Saghro. I squint against the relentless midday sun, scanning the horizon. In the distance, perched high on a jagged rocky peak, a vibrant splash of crimson catches my eye\u2014the red djellaba worn by Telhou Bel\u2019awane, the matriarch of the Berber family I am traveling with in Morocco. Her silhouette against the volcanic rock confirms that the goats are near. I squint again, scouring the crags and stony folds of the mountains for our herd. But to my untrained eye, their onyx-colored coats remain frustratingly indistinguishable from the dark, craggy terrain. They are masters of this landscape, blending into the shadows of the mountains as if they were part of the earth itself.<\/p>\n

Jebel Saghro is the ancestral homeland of Telhou\u2019s people, the A\u00eft Atta, a historically powerful Berber\u2014or Amazigh, meaning "free people"\u2014tribe in southeast Morocco. This rugged, unforgiving region unfurls from the shadows of the High Atlas Mountains all the way to the parched edge of the Sahara. Twice each year, it serves as the backdrop for one of the oldest and most grueling migrations in Africa. For millennia, A\u00eft Atta families have moved their livestock upward of 180 miles from the lush, summer grazing grounds of the High Atlas to the winter pastures of Jebel Saghro. This seasonal pastoral journey, known as transhumance, defines a semi-nomadic way of life that is now teetering on the edge of extinction.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

It is late September, and Telhou, her husband Hmad, and their daughter Sa\u2019dia are ten days into their arduous trek when I join them, accompanied by a support team from the travel operator Black Tomato. Hiking alongside a family and their herd is one of five immersive experiences that comprise The Keepers<\/em>, Black Tomato\u2019s newest collection of itineraries. Each trip is meticulously built around people whose ancient, specialized knowledge continues to be practiced and passed down through generations\u2014from a 28th-generation Daoist master in Chengdu, China, to a mariscador<\/em> on Chilo\u00e9 Island in Chile who has spent a lifetime reading the ocean\u2019s tides.<\/p>\n

A pioneer of off-the-grid luxury, Black Tomato has developed a keen instinct for knowing what today\u2019s most discerning travelers crave. With The Keepers<\/em>, co-founder Tom Marchant predicts that in a world where nearly anything can be looked up or generated in seconds, deep, authentic human knowledge and genuine connection have become the ultimate luxuries. More than ever, travelers are seeking to be students of the world rather than mere spectators.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

Before my arrival, the Bel\u2019awane caravan was a study in minimalist survival: 200 goats, two dogs to help herd, two chickens for eggs, and three donkeys laden with tea kettles, water jugs, blankets, and basic camp supplies. To accommodate my presence and ensure the journey could be documented without hindering the family\u2019s traditional pace, Black Tomato added five mules and a dozen more people to the group. This included two drivers, four logistics personnel to manage my canvas tent\u2014equipped with a bed and a flush toilet\u2014a chef, and five mule handlers. Many of these men are cousins of the Bel\u2019awane family, and some, like our head mule handler, Za\u00efd Oukhazaid, have reluctantly abandoned their own nomadic lives for permanent village life due to the pressures of a changing climate and economic reality.<\/p>\n

On the day I arrive, Za\u00efd and a colleague meet me roadside in Tagdilt, a village at the edge of the Dad\u00e8s Valley. Both wear coarse, sheep\u2019s wool djellabas over modern trekking pants and plaid shirts, with turban-like scarves known as shesh<\/em> piled high on their heads. Za\u00efd cracks a wide, welcoming smile, revealing the gap left by four missing front teeth. Despite his diminutive stature, he possesses an outsized personality and a fierce, deep-seated pride in his A\u00eft Atta heritage.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

He stretches out a sinewy arm and, after two strong, calloused shakes of my hand, pulls me into a warm bear hug, exclaiming, "Welcome, welcome"\u2014some of the few English phrases he has mastered while working with international visitors. My own command of Arabic, French, and Berber is rudimentary at best. Noureddine (Nouri) Bachar has joined the team as my translator to interpret and facilitate conversations, but over the next few days, I am consistently surprised by how much can be communicated through the universal languages of gratitude, laughter, and shared smiles.<\/p>\n

With rain looming on the horizon, the family began their trek early, and Nouri explains that they will meet us at camp. "The nomads dictate the days," he says, offering a gentle reminder of the power dynamic at play. "You are here to support their journey, and we are here to support yours." Once the mules are loaded with our supplies, Za\u00efd beckons us to follow him into the Martian-like landscape that lies ahead. I quickly understand why Saghro is known as the "Land of Thirst" in the Berber tongue. Before us sprawls an endless, intimidating expanse of flat-topped mesas, dry, cracked riverbeds, and umber cliffs. He seems to sense my hesitation. "Drop me in a city, and I\u2019d be lost," Za\u00efd says, his voice steady. "Drop me anywhere in these mountains, and I know my way."<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

The two-hour hike serves as a warm-up for the days ahead, where we will be trekking for five or more hours at a time. We reach the Tircht pass, sitting at 6,100 feet, just as the team is finishing the setup of our camp. Each A\u00eft Atta family holds traditional, ancestral rights to specific migration routes, including sites like this one where they have constructed stone pens known as azib<\/em> to shelter their herds from the elements and predators. Za\u00efd fetches water from a nearby well and prepares a fire to heat a kettle for tea. I stop him just as he is about to drop a massive, iceberg-sized chunk of sugar into the pot. I ask Nouri to tell him I\u2019d like to keep my teeth. Understanding the joke, Za\u00efd lets out a hearty belly laugh and passes me an unsweetened pour.<\/p>\n

After sunset, the family and our support team gather in a large goat-hair tent for a proper introduction and a communal meal by candlelight. The atmosphere feels less like a tour and more like a family reunion. The men swap stories and gossip, while Telhou and her 17-year-old daughter sit quietly together. Traditionally, the man of the house leads the caravan and manages the camp, while the wife and children carry the arduous task of moving the goats, in addition to daily household duties like meal preparation. My arrival means the women get a rare few days of respite from cooking. Our chef ladles out bowls of harira<\/em>, a thick, fragrant tomato soup spiked with beans, herbs, and local spices. Nouri passes me a spoon, but I choose to follow Za\u00efd\u2019s lead, picking up my bowl with my hands and taking a long, warm slurp. "The nomad way," Za\u00efd says, nodding in approval.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

However, the "nomad way" has become increasingly fragile. Rising temperatures and the prevalence of severe, prolonged droughts have significantly shrunk the available grazing pastures. Furthermore, since 2019, children between the ages of 6 and 16 are legally required to attend school, which removes vital hands from the labor-intensive task of tending the herds. Four of Telhou\u2019s six children are currently in school, one daughter is married, and soon, Sa\u2019dia will follow the same path. Once youth are introduced to modern conveniences\u2014electricity with the flip of a switch or running water with the turn of a handle\u2014the prospect of returning to the hardships of living off the land becomes increasingly remote. Hmad tells Nouri that only six families in his sub-tribe, the Ait Slilou, made the trek to Jebel Saghro this year. In years past, there were upwards of 80. I am struck by how similar this struggle is to other pastoral stories across the globe, from the sheep herders of the Swiss Alps to the ranching families of the American West; traditions that depend entirely on the family unit and the land are slowly, quietly disappearing.<\/p>\n

The rhythmic hee-haw<\/em> of donkeys acts as our camp alarm, rousing us before sunrise each morning. While I sip coffee and enjoy a breakfast of baghrir<\/em>, crepe-like pancakes topped with amlou<\/em>\u2014a Moroccan riff on almond butter\u2014the team works to pack up camp. We leave no trace behind, save for the stone shelter that protected the goats overnight. By 7:30 a.m., Nouri and I set off with the family. Hmad guides the donkeys along a dusty trail lined with almond and date trees, while Telhou and Sa\u2019dia take on the rougher task of navigating the herd off-road. I watch in awe as Sa\u2019dia scrambles up near-vertical cliffs of scree, dressed in a shimmery gold-striped dress and plastic loafers, moving with the same agility as the mountain goats. She is the same age as my partner\u2019s twin boys, and I cannot help but think they wouldn\u2019t last a single hour attempting this kind of work.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

Today\u2019s 7.5-mile trek takes us up and over Tizi n’ Tircht, a mountain pass sitting at 8,200 feet that provides breathtaking, sweeping views back toward the High Atlas and down into the remote campsite of Azib Almou n’ Ouarg. Except for one other nomadic family with a small caravan of camels, we do not encounter another soul. Nouri and I follow the steep, rubbly path with Hmad and arrive at camp just after 1 p.m. Famished, I devour a lunch of kefta<\/em> and Moroccan salads, then remove my hiking boots from my aching feet. Like the rest of the crew, I succumb to a well-earned nap. The women, who move with the natural rhythm of the herd\u2014stopping every hour to allow for grazing\u2014do not descend into camp until nearly 5 p.m.<\/p>\n

By the second night, I feel like a part of the family. The bond is solidified when I learn that a goat has been sacrificed in my honor. The chef prepares a "hoof-to-horn" meal, and as I sample skewers of every imaginable part\u2014heart, lungs, intestines\u2014the dinner conversation turns to politics. It is a historic day, Nouri explains; the King has just appointed the first female prime minister. I ask for the group\u2019s reaction. Za\u00efd jokes that it is the "end for men." Sa\u2019dia shrugs, saying she doesn\u2019t care about politics, only the goats. Telhou cracks a wide, knowing grin and says she is happy. When I ask why, she tells me, via Nouri, "Because I\u2019m a woman, too."<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

On our third morning, I ask Nouri if I can follow the women off-trail. Our route is just under seven miles but significantly steeper than previous days. By now, I have begun to notice the subtle distinctions of the goats\u2014the twist of a horn, the texture of a shaggy beard, and the white ears of a one-year-old kid I have named "Mittens." Telhou uses primal, authoritative shouts to keep the herd together, while Sa\u2019dia uses a slingshot to skillfully throw stones at straying goats. She lets me try, and we both break out in giggles when my rock launches backward. Telhou tells Nouri she is impressed with my stamina and asks if I enjoy the work. I honestly do. What would otherwise be an epic hike now has a tangible purpose\u2014to help care for the herd\u2014which adds a profound human connection to this otherworldly landscape.<\/p>\n

The scenery today, dominated by red rocks and flat-topped mesas, could easily pass for the deserts of Utah. Our hike feels like a geologic safari, with Nouri pointing out rock formations that resemble elephants and camels. Once again, by the time we meet up with Hmad and descend into camp, I am physically exhausted. In our modern age of convenience, doing "hard things" is deeply satisfying, but as I rinse off the day\u2019s dust in a bucket shower, I wonder if I could truly handle this lifestyle. In many ways, it is blissfully simple, reminiscent of an annual hiking trip with friends where everyone is forced to disconnect from their screens due to the lack of signal. But here, modern stressors are replaced with primal realities: finding water, staying warm, and protecting the herd\u2014the family\u2019s primary currency\u2014from jackals and wild dogs.<\/p>\n

\"In<\/figure>\n

Even after a strenuous day, Telhou squats by the fire and tries to teach me to make aghroum<\/em>, a traditional Moroccan flatbread. She effortlessly tosses the circular dough between her hands. My breadmaking skills, it turns out, are even worse than my rock-tossing. That night, we gather around a giant bowl heaped with couscous, studded with goat meat, carrots, and zucchini. There are no plates; we eat communally, with Za\u00efd portioning out the meat so everyone gets a fair share. Before I retire to my tent, Sa\u2019dia asks if she can decorate my hands with henna. I sit still, letting the dark green plant paste dry slowly over the embers of the fire.<\/p>\n

On our final day with the family, I ask to join the women once more. I have gained confidence in climbing the rocks, allowing my eyes to hone in on the herd with greater clarity. A twitch of white high up on the pass catches my attention: the mischievous Mittens has wandered away. I toss rocks and try to mimic Telhou\u2019s commanding howls. Mittens obeys, scampering back down with me in tow. Before we depart, I ask Nouri to thank them for their hospitality. Telhou tells him I have "earned my keep" and that she would welcome me back every year. "She is a nomad at heart," she tells Nouri. I wouldn\u2019t mind making this an annual tradition with my adopted nomad family, and I find myself hoping that experiences like this might, in some small way, help the nomadic way of life survive for future generations.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A persistent chorus of shrill bleats and guttural baas echoes across the canyons and basalt towers of Jebel Saghro. I squint against the relentless midday sun, scanning the horizon. In the distance, perched high on a jagged rocky peak, a vibrant splash of crimson catches my eye\u2014the red djellaba worn by Telhou Bel\u2019awane, the matriarch […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3177,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[743],"tags":[5336,56,1543,744,2676,5334,5335,745,5337,5333],"class_list":["post-3178","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lifestyle-and-travel","tag-berber","tag-design","tag-last","tag-lifestyle","tag-migration","tag-morocco","tag-nomadic","tag-travel","tag-tribes","tag-walking"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3178","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3178"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3178\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3177"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3178"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3178"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xesi.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3178"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}