Travel once meant patience. In the 1970s, journeys were long and meaningful, especially when traveling from the city to the mountains. For one young boy growing up in Casablanca, these trips were not simply vacations—they were unforgettable experiences that shaped his childhood.
A Journey to the High Atlas
The journey always began before dawn in Casablanca. The quiet city air carried the scent of salt from the Atlantic. Without modern motorways, traveling to the mountains took an entire day.
The boy’s father would take him either in a taxi or in the sturdy car of his friend, M’barek. Along the way, they would stop in Marrakech, the famous “Red City.” There, the father would buy gifts—sugar, tea, and fabrics—to bring to the family waiting in the mountains.
As the road climbed higher toward the High Atlas, the air changed. It became cooler and sharper, filled with the smell of dust and ancient stone. They were heading to a small Amazigh village called Tassaouirgane.
The Meaning of Tassaouirgane
In the Amazigh language, the word “Tassa” means liver. In Amazigh culture, the liver symbolizes love rather than the heart. Therefore, the name Tassaouirgane can be interpreted as “The Love of Ouirgane.”
The village was like a hidden garden in the mountains. Fresh spring water flowed through the rocks, corn fields swayed in the wind, and apple trees were heavy with fruit. The air carried the beautiful scent of wild lavender and thyme.
Arrival in the Village
In those days, cars were rare in the mountains. When a vehicle approached the village, the sound of the engine drew everyone’s attention. Children would gather around the car with curiosity and excitement.
Waiting for the visitors was the boy’s grandfather. He lived in the village with his wife. The boy’s biological grandmother had passed away when he was still a baby, so he never knew her.
Although his grandfather spoke only Amazigh and the boy spoke the language of the city, their connection was strong. They did not need words to communicate. A smile or a gentle hand on the shoulder was enough to express their love.
A Childhood of Freedom
Life in Tassaouirgane offered freedom that city life could never provide. The boy and other village children spent their days exploring fields and streams.
They played in cold mountain cascades where the water was so chilly it made their bones ache. They ran along irrigation canals that watered the orchards and picked wild red berries growing near the water. Their fingers and mouths turned red as they enjoyed the sweet taste of summer.
The Magic of the Kitchen
The village kitchen was another place of wonder. Food was prepared using ingredients grown or raised locally. Every meal was fresh and full of flavor.
On warm summer nights, the family would climb to the rooftop of the house. Under a sky filled with countless stars, they shared dinner together. Sometimes four different tajines appeared on the table—one from their kitchen and others sent by neighbors.
Using pieces of bread, they dipped into dishes of lamb, fruits, and spices. It was not just food; it was a celebration of community and tradition.
Grandpa the Protector
After dinner, the grandfather would prepare for his nightly task. With a baton and a torch, he walked into the darkness to guard his fields from wild boars that came down from the mountains.
The boy would watch his light moving in the distance, like a small star in the night.
The Taste of Wild Honey
One memory stood out above all others.
Early in the morning, the boy waited at the breakfast table. Suddenly, the door opened, and his grandfather entered carrying fresh honeycomb from his beehives.
Remarkably, the grandfather worked with the bees without gloves, masks, or smoke. He simply walked among them as if he were part of their world.
He squeezed the honeycomb with his hands, letting thick golden honey flow onto a plate. The family dipped fresh bread into it and ate it with butter made that same morning from cow’s milk.
They also enjoyed eggs taken directly from the stable and cooked in the hot ash of a traditional wood-fired oven called the Tanort.
It was the pure taste of the mountain.
A Village That Has Changed
Decades later, the narrator returned to live in Tassaouirgane after spending many years abroad. But the village had changed.
In 2019, the road to the village was paved with asphalt, making travel easier. Cars became common.
However, many things from the past had disappeared. The cascade where children once played was destroyed by a flash flood. Corn fields and wild berries vanished. Livestock became rare as industrial dairy products replaced traditional farming.
Children who once ran barefoot through fields were now often seen looking at smartphones.
The Earthquake of 2023
Then tragedy struck.
On September 8, 2023, a powerful earthquake shook the High Atlas Mountains. Many homes collapsed, lives were lost, and the community suffered deeply.
The disaster showed how fragile even the mountains can be.
Memories That Remain
Despite the hardships, the people of Tassaouirgane continue to rebuild their lives with resilience and hope.
For the narrator, the true village still lives in memory: the tall corn fields, the singing water, and his grandfather walking through the door with fresh honey.
These memories are a precious inheritance—sweet like the wild honey of the mountains.
And as long as they live in the heart, the Love of Tassaouirgane will never be lost.
For travelers today, an eco-friendly mountain retreat called Dar Tassa offers a modern version of this escape. Located just over an hour from Marrakech inside Toubkal National Park, Dar Tassa provides cozy accommodations, traditional Moroccan hospitality, and a chance to experience the wild beauty of the High Atlas in comfort.