Trekking up into the Atlas mountains and arriving at the first Berber village can be an unforgettable experience. This place is a world away from the life we know in Europe, an almost forgotten land where time is still measured by daylight and the seasons rather than by watches. Indeed many villages refuse to change their watches for daylight saving time, preferring to stick to “old time”, creating a world of confusion if you have just come up from the city!

The first thing that strikes you in a berber village are the buildings. We are used to seeing houses built upon the flat. Not so for the Berbers – every flat piece of ground in the mountains has been painstakingly cut out of the steep hillside to provide terracing for fields to plant. Flat land is far too precious to build upon, so instead they build their houses directly into the mountainside.

Although concrete is slowly making its way into any villages near to road access, the preferred building material is still pisé – pounded mud. Interspersed with layers of rocks, the thick mud walls of a traditional house will keep the interior warm in winter, and cool in summer. Windows are small and usually painted with a white border, and a metal grating to stop the children falling out.

Off the beaten track the locals are usually still very shy of outsiders. The stories of bloody fighting and blood feuds between Berber tribes are thankfully a thing of the past. The days when some of the first Europeans who attempted to summit these mountains were killed by the natives are long gone. Nevertheless, it is not uncommon to approach a village and for everyone to disappear inside their houses, peeking out through cracks in their doors or windows at the foreigners. This can be a little unnerving as you walk through a ghost-town, or ghost-village, unseen eyes watching your every move, and the menacing growling of dogs too close for comfort.

Having a guide who speaks the Berber language is essential at this point. The greeting, “Asalaam alaykum” (may peace be with you) will normally be responded to, and someone will eventually overcome their suspicion and come out to greet you. Copious greetings usually follow:

La bas der-ak? (No evil with you?)

Kulshi bekheir? (Is everything fine?)

Kulshi mzien? (Is everything good?)

Our termit? (You’re not tired?)

To which the response is always “la bas” – (no evil). This will often be followed by a muttered alhamdalilah – (praise be to god).

The men will usually shake hand with the men, and the women with women, although in the villages the gender separation is not so strictly adhered to as in the  more conservative towns. After shaking hands it is polite to touch your hand to your chest, indicating sincerity.

At some point in the proceedings you will almost inevitably be asked into someone’s house. Ikshem, usu attay – come in and drink tea!

If you accept this invitation, the legendary hospitality of the Berbers will open up to you and you can spend the next few hours inside their home, drinking sweet mint tea and eating copious amounts of homemade biscuits and cakes. I will save the details of this for another blog post, but suffice it to say that no matter how much you eat and drink, it will never be enough in the eyes of your hosts!

When you enter a furnished room you should normally remove your shoes – there are no vacuum cleaners up here, and the Berber rugs lining the floors are made by hand over many weeks. It would be a shame to spoil them with dirty outside shoes.

In the Imlil valleys where the locals are used to tourists your experience may be a bit different. But off the tourist trail, the locals will share their hospitality with you without expecting to be paid. Indeed they may well be offended if you try to pay them anything. However, a small note surreptitiously left on the table as you leave will often be appreciated. 50Dh is fine if they just gave you tea, maybe 100Dh if you had snacks as well. These people work very hard to make a living from the harsh landscape of the Atlas Mountains. Although they are not poor compared with much of Africa, they still do not have the disposable resources that you and I take for granted.

As you leave there will be more hand-shaking, and the women often give numerous kisses to the women, a bit like the french bissous. They will tell you that you should come back soon, and the typical farewell is to say bislama – go in peace. If you follow this up with a phrase such as A kwn i awan arrbi – (may god help/bless you) they will be overwhelmed by your sincerity, and mutter a quick amen under their breath. These people are very pious, and trust to god for their everyday needs. When things go wrong they also look to him rather than blaming themslves as we do in the west – the sentiment being that the misfortune must have been part of god’s incomprehensible Will and therefore unavoidable. Interestingly, this fatalistic attitude means that suicide and self-blame are very rare here.

The goodbyes said and the blessings spoken, it is time to move on. If you enjoyed the experience there will inevitably be another village a couple of kilometers up the trail, where you can start over, perfect your pronunciation of the greetings, and drink enough sweet tea to put you in the dentist’s as soon as you get home.

The Berbers really are an amazing and resilient people. Hopefully your experience of their way of life will make you ponder your own life. Be more grateful for the opportunities you have which they don’t, whilst also seeing the wonderful humanity and joy of life which we all share, no matter what our culture, customs or religion.