The past week or so it has been very cold here in Tahannaout, temperatures averaging 16 degrees during the day but getting down as low as -4 degrees on one particularly cold night. For Morocco, this is very cold indeed! Obviously we are being affected by this severe spell of weather all over Europe at the moment. Clothing therefore ranges from T-shirts to jumpers and fleeces within the space of a few hours, and the lovely wood burner is proving an invaluable treat each evening. Said comes each evening armed with bundles of bamboo he's chopped down from the end of the garden to use as kindling, combines this with the plastic bags and cardboard we've saved from Carrefour and with the strike of a match somehow manages to bring a furnace of warmth to our house which lasts well into the night. We're not the only ones to notice this...four little faces and three larger ones stare through the window longingly as the flames leap high and we can hear the frantic scratching of claws at the window as temptation becomes too much. It is so hard to watch the little ones shivering and hungry, their ribs poking through their fur, whilst we sit cosily eating our dinner. It has been known for them to somehow slip past us for a few minutes and sit by the fire...a blind eye is turned on occasion...well, wouldn't you?....But shhh, I didn't let you in on that secret!
As it is bitterly cold and he would obviously prefer the comfort and warmth of a car rather than a 25-minute bike ride in the biting winds, Said has asked us if we fancy a drive to see the derelict farm which he also guards so as he can feed the guard dogs there. And so starts today's adventure! We head up to the main road and take a track that leads off it, bumping our way along over loose stones, wondering where on earth we are going. The track seems to be getting narrower and narrower and more and more winding, leading through villages we would never have known were there. Finally we come to some large gates which Said opens...and before us stretches a long proper driveway and at the end of it we can see a dilapidated building. Two guard dogs stretch idly out on the ground, then one approaches and licks my hand; he obviously knows we have brought food! Having fed the dogs with mountains of stale bread (the ubiquitous diet of Moroccan guard dogs, it seems), Said tells us that a very rich man once lived here who owned horses, donkeys, cows, sheep and goats and entertained his guests with parties in the courtyard, where people would dance till late into the night. Having no descendants, the place fell into ruin when he died, and it has been left like this ever since, although the land is now owned once again and Said is employed to look after it until the owner is ready to resurrect it from the ashes.
Said shows us around the rooms which still stand - it is easy to imagine the life that once existed here, despite the emptiness and the crumbling walls. The courtyard is now very overgrown, but a path has been cut through it for easy access to one of the outhouses, so gingerly I step over the stinking goat skin that lies in the way, (who knows how long that's been there!) and we walk past the individual stables which once housed the man's horses, heading up stone steps towards what once were the living quarters but now resemble dusty cells! The house is just a shell - but one can see the potential for it to become once again the most beautiful of buildings when transformed with loving care. Oh to have the money to do that! The garden is no less impressive...no fewer than 400 olive trees line the fields, all fully formed and being at least 200 years old! Last week it was Said's job to irrigate the fields and bring new life to these ancient olives, no mean feat! It was a job he had to do at night because that was the only time water was available from the communal watering system. Let me explain...In this rural area, other than wells, most water comes from snow-melt from the mountains. This flows very fast alongside streets in conduits and when water is required for irrigation purposes the landowner must request a time slot whereby the water can be channelled and redirected to their field. There is a patchwork of different agricultural areas in this region which all have irrigation channels built alongside them. For the past few months we have been watching different landowners claim their time slot and help to re-channel the water for their crops. There is one of these channels alongside our house too which has been used to funnel streams of water into our field to water Said's crops. The system is so simple - but so clever.
The old derelict farmhouse described above is where Tanny and Stripe, two of the pups, ended up on their 'N'zaha' or 'holiday' as Said now jokingly refers to it. At the time it was no joke! Mart and I had been out all day, arriving back with a friend in tow for the evening. As Mart reluctantly settled back into his work, Emily and I went to say hello to the dogs....but only two of the pups came to see us....strange as usually they all clamour for attention as soon as they hear the gate and know we're home. We went for a walk around the large garden and the attached field, calling and whistling, panic beginning to rise in me. Only a few weeks earlier The Chunkster, the male pup, had been dog-napped and Said had found him tied to a fence with a collar around his neck. Incensed by this, Said had cut the collar and brought the pup back home. Now, was history repeating itself? I told Mart to phone Said immediately as he was not at home. Said's reply was an unexpected one...the two female pups were with him at the farmhouse and would be left there with the other two guard dogs, both male, to learn to be guard dogs themselves. To say I was furious would be an understatement....I know they're not my dogs, but the thought of two tiny eight-week old pups being left to fend for themselves in that massive place, being bullied by the two large male guard dogs, and being frightened and stressed to be separated from their mum, dad and family, was just too much for me. Add to this the fact that these two were our favourite pups, and were taken without our knowledge. When Said came home, I challenged him regarding why he had taken those two pups, but left the male one here, the only one who might be ready and able to leave his mother (not that I wanted any of them to leave yet!) I was annoyed that in Islam the males of the species are always considered to be far superior to females, and therefore the more able male dog stays while the timid, insecure females are sent away to fend for themselves. Fortunately for me, Said is a good man and saw how angry and upset I was, therefore insisting that he and Mart go and fetch the dogs and bring them home! They found them cowering in a shed and had quite a job to coax them out of hiding. Meanwhile, I stayed home watching the other two pups curled up together for warmth and company, pining for their sisters. Fortunately it was not long before all pups were reunited - and Said has now decided to keep them all here. I don't think Moroccans know what to do with a ranting, emotional European woman :) However, in this situation I was right - and this was confirmed by Said's mother who also told him the pups were too young to be separated from their mother...I felt relieved that the commotion I had caused was justifiable! The pups are all doing fine now, although the two who were taken are now slow to trust humans - maybe that's not a bad thing!
To finish on a happier note, here's a pic of Mr Sneezy, our other guard dog, so called because he 'smiles' at us and then sneezes. I smile back every time....wouldn't you?
 |
| Caught in the act! |
As it is bitterly cold and he would obviously prefer the comfort and warmth of a car rather than a 25-minute bike ride in the biting winds, Said has asked us if we fancy a drive to see the derelict farm which he also guards so as he can feed the guard dogs there. And so starts today's adventure! We head up to the main road and take a track that leads off it, bumping our way along over loose stones, wondering where on earth we are going. The track seems to be getting narrower and narrower and more and more winding, leading through villages we would never have known were there. Finally we come to some large gates which Said opens...and before us stretches a long proper driveway and at the end of it we can see a dilapidated building. Two guard dogs stretch idly out on the ground, then one approaches and licks my hand; he obviously knows we have brought food! Having fed the dogs with mountains of stale bread (the ubiquitous diet of Moroccan guard dogs, it seems), Said tells us that a very rich man once lived here who owned horses, donkeys, cows, sheep and goats and entertained his guests with parties in the courtyard, where people would dance till late into the night. Having no descendants, the place fell into ruin when he died, and it has been left like this ever since, although the land is now owned once again and Said is employed to look after it until the owner is ready to resurrect it from the ashes.
Said shows us around the rooms which still stand - it is easy to imagine the life that once existed here, despite the emptiness and the crumbling walls. The courtyard is now very overgrown, but a path has been cut through it for easy access to one of the outhouses, so gingerly I step over the stinking goat skin that lies in the way, (who knows how long that's been there!) and we walk past the individual stables which once housed the man's horses, heading up stone steps towards what once were the living quarters but now resemble dusty cells! The house is just a shell - but one can see the potential for it to become once again the most beautiful of buildings when transformed with loving care. Oh to have the money to do that! The garden is no less impressive...no fewer than 400 olive trees line the fields, all fully formed and being at least 200 years old! Last week it was Said's job to irrigate the fields and bring new life to these ancient olives, no mean feat! It was a job he had to do at night because that was the only time water was available from the communal watering system. Let me explain...In this rural area, other than wells, most water comes from snow-melt from the mountains. This flows very fast alongside streets in conduits and when water is required for irrigation purposes the landowner must request a time slot whereby the water can be channelled and redirected to their field. There is a patchwork of different agricultural areas in this region which all have irrigation channels built alongside them. For the past few months we have been watching different landowners claim their time slot and help to re-channel the water for their crops. There is one of these channels alongside our house too which has been used to funnel streams of water into our field to water Said's crops. The system is so simple - but so clever.
The old derelict farmhouse described above is where Tanny and Stripe, two of the pups, ended up on their 'N'zaha' or 'holiday' as Said now jokingly refers to it. At the time it was no joke! Mart and I had been out all day, arriving back with a friend in tow for the evening. As Mart reluctantly settled back into his work, Emily and I went to say hello to the dogs....but only two of the pups came to see us....strange as usually they all clamour for attention as soon as they hear the gate and know we're home. We went for a walk around the large garden and the attached field, calling and whistling, panic beginning to rise in me. Only a few weeks earlier The Chunkster, the male pup, had been dog-napped and Said had found him tied to a fence with a collar around his neck. Incensed by this, Said had cut the collar and brought the pup back home. Now, was history repeating itself? I told Mart to phone Said immediately as he was not at home. Said's reply was an unexpected one...the two female pups were with him at the farmhouse and would be left there with the other two guard dogs, both male, to learn to be guard dogs themselves. To say I was furious would be an understatement....I know they're not my dogs, but the thought of two tiny eight-week old pups being left to fend for themselves in that massive place, being bullied by the two large male guard dogs, and being frightened and stressed to be separated from their mum, dad and family, was just too much for me. Add to this the fact that these two were our favourite pups, and were taken without our knowledge. When Said came home, I challenged him regarding why he had taken those two pups, but left the male one here, the only one who might be ready and able to leave his mother (not that I wanted any of them to leave yet!) I was annoyed that in Islam the males of the species are always considered to be far superior to females, and therefore the more able male dog stays while the timid, insecure females are sent away to fend for themselves. Fortunately for me, Said is a good man and saw how angry and upset I was, therefore insisting that he and Mart go and fetch the dogs and bring them home! They found them cowering in a shed and had quite a job to coax them out of hiding. Meanwhile, I stayed home watching the other two pups curled up together for warmth and company, pining for their sisters. Fortunately it was not long before all pups were reunited - and Said has now decided to keep them all here. I don't think Moroccans know what to do with a ranting, emotional European woman :) However, in this situation I was right - and this was confirmed by Said's mother who also told him the pups were too young to be separated from their mother...I felt relieved that the commotion I had caused was justifiable! The pups are all doing fine now, although the two who were taken are now slow to trust humans - maybe that's not a bad thing!
To finish on a happier note, here's a pic of Mr Sneezy, our other guard dog, so called because he 'smiles' at us and then sneezes. I smile back every time....wouldn't you?
