3 hrs, 4.0 kms



It's pitch dark as I try to follow the path down the mountainside, across the river bed and up the other side it Imin Oulouan . Luckily, Brahim has recently painted some arrows along the way, making it a little easier. I reach his door, cross my fingers and knock. If he’s not home… I’m going to be in a bit of a predicament.

His son opens the door and I explain the situation. A moment later, Brahim appears and welcomes me in as a long lost friend. This time I’m not taken to the room up on the roof, I’m brought into the living room where his wife, two of his sons, his daughter in law and granddaughter are watching TV.

This time I don’t try to negotiate a price, and they treat me as a guest—although we both know that money will exchange hands at some point. I guess it’s a sort of nice blend of hospitality and paying for a service. It’s nice to feel a homey environment and get a close up look at the "real life" of a family in these parts. But at the same time, since I’m going to pay Brahim, I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of their hospitality—nor do I feel like I’m indebted to them and will feel obligated to provide them with lodging if one of them comes to Casablanca . Not that I’m against being hospitable to people—I just don’t like to feel like I’m obligated to do it.

And the atmosphere is quite cheerful and relaxed as we chat about life in the village, the family, Brahim’s job of guiding tourists on treks up the mountain. They even ask me to play some music for them. I do my little Berber riff and melody on the guitar, adapting some of my lyrics to go along with the melody. In between each line I do a little riff, and the family echoes with a “eeeeeieeee ooooouuuuooo” in between. Nice. What they don’t realize is that they’ve just helped me compose a new song!

But, according to Brahim, this isn’t a Berber tune “this sounds like gnawa” he tells me. Suits me, as long as it sounds good and people like it… Tomorrow I’ll come up with some new lyrics to go along with it. And so, after a delicious tagine, I bid the family farewell, and call it a night. A nice, comfy finish to a day of uncertainty.