Yes, I know...

... what it looks like. My blog seems to be stuck in the mud of Ouled Mgatel. It seems there are so few pictures, so few things to tell about our beloved mudbrick house.

And that is true. A little bit.

Because we don’t go there very often now – you know why.

But here, in our appartment in Fez, we’re making plans to conquer back our house.

We’ll paint the walls, fix the roofs, clean the garden, fill in the cracks, redo the floors… Put our hands and feet in the mud again.

(And of course we’re also making plans to earn all the money we’re going to need to paint, fix, clean, redo…)

The house is there, in the valley. Not so far…

Water in our shoes

When it rains in Ouled Mgatel – we have mud in our shoes.

But in Fez, of course, we’got water in our shoes.

Look at what happens when it rains in Fez.

And in big puddles of water like this one, you can also rinse turnips and carrots.

Bensouda, Fez

Between raindrops

Every time we go to Ouled Mgatel, I realize that everything is still very beautiful.

That, if the mudbrick house is still suffering, the boys have done a good job making it more safe.

That something new is here, a very small stream, by our house. It’s so great to see this in such a – well, usually – arid place.

That, if we’ve go t holes in our roof, well, we also have flowers in our garden.

Not so bad after all.

Thank you, rain

It’s difficult for me to look at the last pictures I took of the house. So I won’t show you any.

It’s not so nice anymore, because of the wind/rain/hail of those last months.

The walls are not so white anymore. The garden is more of a jungle now. The roof… well, let’s not talk about the roof.

But I wanted to show you beautiful things. Because even if the rain depresses me a lot, I’m aware of the blessing it is for Morocco. The country needed that, after 30 years of draught.

So… thank you, rain.

One month or two

It’s like it will never end.

Maybe it will never end.

Oh yes, yes it will stop.

In a month, two maybe, that's what we were told.

And then, the ground will bet warmer, and we will be able to drive to our house.

And spend time there.

For now, we have to be patient. We try not to worry to much.

Two houses alrealdy collapsed.

We do what we have to do, well, Bachir and Fouad do what has to be done. For now, a simple piece of tarp, put on the house. Nothing more can be done with that rain.

We try to think to something else, to focus on other parts of our lives.

To forget the wet walls, the roof that leaks, the devastation, the collapsed houses.

 

One month. 

Or maybe two.

Excursion to Ouled Mgatel

Despite the heavy rains, despite our very busy schedule, despite the fact that our car doesn’t like the dirt roads, the mud, the rocks, we had to go back to Ouled Mgatel one last time before going back to France for Christmas.

The main reason was this :

 

 

We had to return the cats to their beloved Ouled Emgatel – because they missed so much  Bachir, Fouad, and the thousand insects living in the house and in the garden.

 

So we put the cats in a box, we put the box in the car, and we left Fez for our country.

 

We realized that we wouldn’t be able to drive to our house. The road was wet, often covered with mud.

 

The car was parked on the top of the hill, Fred grabbed the box with the cats inside, and we walked down the path that leads to our house.

 

And, despite the rain, despite our life that, despite our car, that often grows tired to bring us here, Ouled Mgatel is still generous with us.

 

Like this path.

 

And this agave.

 

This fava bean field.

 

Those olive trees, that moutain.

And even this fig tree, changed by winter,

and this beautiful empty house

welcomed us, soothed us. 

(Of course, on our way back to Fez, the car got stuck in the mud - but the children of Ouled Mgatel, and their teachers, helped us out.)

 

 

Famous !

People in the street tell him they love him.

People recognize him, wherever we go.

His Facebook will soon explode...

And this week I got plenty of new reader who found their way to my blog by googling his name.

And why, you ask me?

Because of that. And if you live in Morocco, or if you have 2M Monde, you can watch it too, Friday afternoon.

So when you’ll see him in the street, you’ll recognize him too…

Fred playing at the Fez festival

12/21 : and what happened Friday when we went back to France?

We took a taxi in Fez, and the driver recognized Fred.

At the airport, the policeman who checked the passeports recognized Fred.

And in the plane? Well, of course, the steward recognized Fred.

How it began

How did all of this begin ?

Let me see… I don’t remember very well… It was at least 6 years ago…

There was a boy, Frédéric –you already know him.

And he loved Arabic music. He had studied the ‘ud for many years, and there was even a time when he travelled for 10 hours each Wednesday just to learn it from one of its masters.

And there was the ‘ud master, Marc – you don’t know him, but please, take a look to what he’s done. Fabulous music.

A few decades ago, the ‘ud master was working in the French cooperation, as a teacher, in Morocco. He spent a few years in Fez. Since then he’s travelled in many places, and learned many intruments.

And the student was fascinated by the master. And fascinated by the city : Fez.

And there was a girl, Marie – well, me, obviously.

I loved – and still do – Arabic music too. I even learned to play to ‘ud. Not with the master though, I wasn’t good enough – and anyway he lived too far away from my city.

There were also people in Nancy, our city, friends, Algerians, and Moroccans.

And then there was Nancy, and the « rue Saint Nicolas ». A magical street, with oriental bazaars, Moroccan stores, and Turkish restaurants – well, not so magical, the restaurants...

And the boy had several jobs, but he liked none of them.

And because of all that, he left, one day, with his backpack, for Fez.

And then, for me, there were several trips to Fez – getting to know the city, picturing me living here. I loved this rooftop in the medina.

One day, I left too. I am not a musician like Fred – I am a teacher, and was able to find a job very quickly.

And then, or maybe before, we met Yassin.

He was living in Fez, in the medina. But both his father and his mother were born in Ouled Mgatel. They were cousins – the perfect marriage in Islam. Yassin’s family still lives in Ouled Mgatel – they are our neighbors now.

And one day he brought Fred to Ouled Mgatel. And Fred fell in love with the place.

Me too.

At this point, I could go on for hours. Because the story is still long. You see, we built the house very slowly.

What I just told you... was for us the easy part.