In the notebooks of Cécile Jaillard
Extracts from the artist's diary
When we were putting together the collection, multi-hatted artist Cécile Jaillard was keen to take us on a trip to Morocco with her. After a solo journey criss-crossing the country, between olive groves, climbing sessions in the High Atlas and frescoes in schools, she shares her sketchbooks and travelogues with us.
Sunday 10th March
Paulina and Kathy leave. I decide to go to the ouka.
This morning, I felt sick and uncomfortable.
I'm afraid to take the bus alone, I don't feel comfortable. In the end, I take the plunge. On the way, Omar picks me up on his moped and drops me off at the bus stop. How cool! I take minibus 25 and stop at the ouka.
I go to the organic garden, which costs 20 dirhams. I missed the reservation for the guided tour, too bad. It's not very interesting, but the way there puts me in the mood. The children say hello, two little girls come up to me, take my hand and give me a kiss!
On the map, I see a river. That's where I'm heading. The riverbed is dry, full of plastic and pebbles. Disappointment. A lorry drives by, the driver opens the door and throws me some clementines. I've just eaten one, but I can't get enough, so I eat them.
I head back up towards the souk. Find the entrance to the village. No one's there, I'm the only tourist. Some children greet me cheerfully, shouting ‘1 dirham, 1 dirham’. Instead, I offer them my last Clementine from Karine's garden. I come back down and find myself a bit dispirited. I think I've done the trick and I buy 1 kg of bananas for 10 dirhams. A guy comes to help me with the translation after a misunderstanding with the seller. The matter is settled and I continue on my way in search of lunch.
I don't dare go to a café - I'm told that's for men! In short, I'm lost. A guy beckons me to sit down. I saw them on the way in. There's a table with six or seven old people drinking tea. I give them bananas, they give me clementines.
We chat. ‘Welcome, welcome’ more tea! It's a funny exchange. The guy who translated for me is also there, smoking a joint and helping me translate what the old people are saying. 20 minutes. After that, I leave, followed by the translator, whom I thank.
I strike up a conversation. He tells me he lives next door and grows a few vegetables. He invites me to take a look around! It's barely 1pm and I won't be leaving until 6pm! He's one of the first Berber families here. Three families at the outset who operated on the basis of barter, in total autonomy. Mohamed is Berber. He learnt English and French as a tourist guide. Since then, he has been translating for everyone.
As he speaks several languages, he helps the police in the event of a dispute. As a result, he knows all the stories, tricks and gossip. He's not a Muslim. He thinks that God is everywhere, in everything, and that everyone does as they please. Islam doesn't interest him because he sees a lot of people doing bad things in real life, and then going to the mosque. It disgusts him. He criticises the state for using religion to control people. Because here the state and Islam are not separate! The Islamists make sure that everyone practises correctly. If you're a Muslim, but you want to change your religion, you go to prison. So, at worst, you just pretend.
Mohamed distils the brandy with figs from the garden. Apparently, even Muslims drink here. As long as it stays at home and no one sees it, you're fine. He told me I could eat and drink coffee wherever I wanted.
In the tajine boui-boui, either you order a dish, or you bring your vegetables and for 10 dirhams, the cook cooks them for you in a tajine, with your meat too if you want some. I don't dare! There are always men eating. But Mohamed told me ‘you do what you want’. In fact, he's a guide, but today is his day off. People who know him think he's with a regular tourist. But he replies that he's with a friend and that we're going for a walk... How nice!
He shows me round his garden and the neighbours' fields. He takes me to a promontory where you can see the whole village. Then we go to his mother's house opposite, and he offers me tea! Hop, we cross the river, ‘the Berbers, they carry their girlfriends on their back to cross’. "You're my girlfriend, hop on my back! And here I am on Mohamed's back. We arrive at his mother's house and he introduces me to his brother. We arrive on the roof terrace. I can't believe it. Then he introduces me to his chatty uncle, who used to work at the town hall. We go back down to the main street and buy some stuff to make a tajine. Then he takes me down an alley with him. We go in. Wow! A bread oven! All the bread in the shops around here is actually baked here. The baker is proud of it, and shows off when I take his photo. We arrive at his place and chop the vegetables. Mohamed lives alone and it's a bit of a mess. "You see, I don't have a wife, that's what all the fuss is about. He has a cat and kittens due in a month.
Mohamed is also taking in a very nice young man who has fallen out with the neighbour he used to work for. Until he finds a job elsewhere, he sleeps at his place. While we wait for the tagine to cook, we go for another walk. He wants to show me how to make zeling (mosaic) but the shop is closed. He explains that you need sand to level the surface, then cement, then you lay the tiles, putting a good layer of cement on each one, then you cover with white cement to seal the holes and remove the excess. Because Cathy wants to do the mosaic floor in the new bedroom and she's offered me the job. He tells me he moved here in 1990, and that he's 34 years old. He's not too sure. As he comes from a Berber family, his administrative papers and birth certificate are a bit shaky.
He walks me back to the bus and I buy him a coffee. I left him my bananas too. I offered to come and help him on the farm soon and I'll bring him back a bottle of white wine from Marrakech. Today I got my first sunburn.
Monday 11th March
Compost. Tomato seedlings. We also planted some Valencian aubergine and lettuce seeds that I brought back for her. It's starting to get hot. Tomorrow it will be 30°C. I've made jars of lacto-fermented spinach, wild spinach, mallow and nasturtium.
Thursday 11th April
Breakfast with the family around 8-9am.
Arrival of Nadine and Rachid.
Departure for Tizi on foot with Nadine, about a 30-minute walk. Arrival at the school, high up in the village. Welcomed by Malika. As he asked me to reproduce some ugly colouring, I thought it would be a good opportunity to do a figurative fresco. In the morning, I thought about it and drew some suggestions. Around 11 o'clock, we do the painting workshop. An excuse for me to do some painting of my own.
Lunch at Malika's.
She lives with her mother, her 25-year-old sister and her two children. Youssouf and Andain. They are five years and nine months old. I don't know where her husband is. I won't see her father or grandfather. Nourdine tells me later that her father is ill and losing his mind. We go back to school and I draw the first fresco.
Malika and I don't understand each other. I don't quite understand, I think there's no class this afternoon. So at 5pm Malika suggests I go home. A lot of time to kill without being able to talk. Malika's not very comfortable. I wonder if I shouldn't have gone back to Tizi.
It's stupid, really.
No. Get out of your comfort zone. To jump in with both feet and make my task easier, I play with the children and draw their hands. They're really into it! It's very easy, no need to speak the same language. It's not so easy for Malika, who stays in the background. We go out to do some shopping, and the children come with us. They start picking flowers on the way to give them to me, and I end up with my hands full of pretty petals.
When they arrive at Malika's, they pose for photos and I stick petals on their faces. It's really fun and creative, and they're having a great time. They start to get a bit excited and by nightfall they're playing and shouting all over the place and I'm tired of it now. Their mother arrives and sends them off. The two little ones are very sad and cry, because they wanted to stay with me at Malika's house. So sweet.
Time for dinner.
Kitchen. The women are around the table. The mother is preparing the meal and I watch her fascinated. It looks so simple! In 20 minutes, the dough is ready, flattened into a patty and left to rest for 20 minutes, then it's off to the oven. Meanwhile, Malika and I prepare the tagine and chips. Our big sister is breastfeeding and the kitten is out and about. We communicate by drawing. I colour for Youssouf. The felt-tips he gave me are very useful for keeping the children busy and talking to them.
We then have dinner in the living room without the men except Youssouf, and the living room is converted into a bedroom. I sleep on the blankets at Ilham's with Malika and her baby. Malika sleeps with her scarf. The village below is plunged into darkness, but a neon light flashes at the top of the minaret, giving it a nightclub atmosphere. You can hear the chanting of the prayers, the reading of the Koran, it's very beautiful.
Saturday 20th April
Wake up, have breakfast, read. I bump into Hassan. He's not keen on climbing, too tired after five days' hiking. He agrees to let me sleep at his place on Saturday night. Walk down the mountain. Hassan arrives, chicha, prayer, cat, fireplace, biscuits, TV. A rainy day. Then a walk in Houlme. We walk up to the very pretty village. It smells of humus and damp earth
Thursday 4th April
Ouarzazate. Incredible scenery. Impossible to sleep. My eyes are wide open. I meet V. and Anna. Spanish. They're also going to the festival. Originally I wasn't going to go, but a guy told me about it at the bus station. So I change my plans.
Arrival in Ouarzazate. The hostel is a long way away. I arrive early. I have a coffee. I settle in, I'm all alone in a dormitory with 12 people. It's perfect. Walk. Meet Rachid in the Kasbah. We drink tea. He takes me on a tour of the kasbah. It's being restored by UNESCO. Then a stroll through the new town, night market. Stop at the carpet shops. The guy tries to sell me stuff. I run away. Another 40-minute walk. My feet really hurt.
Arrive at hostel, sleep at midnight.
Friday 5th April
Breakfast. The German here is afraid to brush his teeth with tap water. I leave with my rucksack. My feet hurt! A nightmare.
I meet Anna in a restaurant recommended by a young man whom I ask for advice. There's no room on the bus for them. I'll go on my own. I go back to see Rachid and have a chat. I go back to the station. Reading, waiting. Bus, dozing. Superb scenery. Desert, night, arrival at 10pm. Night, wind.
I meet Mohamed as I leave the bus. He offers me his hotel for 100 dirhams with breakfast. OK, I go. Lovely hotel! I get my own room with a cosy double bed. Back to the festival. Mohamed stays with me. I would have liked to be alone, though.
