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Lunch with Nomads
Our white Land Cruiser rolls to a stop. We’re deep in the desert outside Merzouga, a Moroccan town known to travelers for camel rides at sunset and ATV tours across the impossibly-high rose gold dunes that line the horizon to my left. We’ll trade the Land Cruiser for a pair of camels later tonight, but for now we’ve reached the spot I’ve most looked forward to on this four day trip across Morocco — a couple unscripted hours spent with a nomadic Berber family.
A little girl is waving to us as we walk toward the mud brick house, and my guide Mohamed hands her a yogurt. Her eyes light up and the two of them exchange a few words as the little girl’s mother emerges from the house.
After asking (and receiving) permission, Mohamed shows us around the small home while the mother goes about her daily chores and her daughter savors the yogurt. Life clearly isn’t easy here. In the first room, used primarily as a pantry and eating space, a car battery hangs on the wall with dozens of wires leading from its terminals. This is the only source of power. There’s no furniture, no table or chairs or stools. Just old cans of powdered milk sitting next to jugs of olive oil and sacks of flour on the dirt floor. A row of immaculate silver teapots hangs on the wall.
