Earthquake Rebuilding with Communities in Morocco

In the Al-Haouz region, particularly in the district of Amizmiz and specifically within the community of Amgras, Douar Taghdalit, an educational workshop was being conducted as part of the psychosocial support program for the communities impacted by the 2023 earthquake.

The night of September 8, 2023, left behind a poignant tapestry of tales.

What grabbed my attention was the tale of a girl, from the workshop with young children. As usual, we did various educational and recreational activities with the children.

Everything was fine, and the children were doing everything comfortably. Then, within moments, a strong hailstorm occurred, so strong that some tents were blown into the air.

In the tent where the children and I were, the sound of the wind was so strong that when they heard it, the children were shaking in fear and screaming, and some of them began to cry. I gathered them all to my side and we moved away immediately. While calling them, I saw a six-year-old girl screaming loudly, saying it was “the same voice, again.” She was terrified and stuttering.

I picked her up, hugged her, and tried to calm her down. Then, thank God, everything returned to normal. Everyone was in good condition after we had tried to overcome the sound and fear together, and we returned to our activities.

I asked her why she was afraid of this specific sound. She said: “It's the same sound we heard when my family and I were together in our house at night, and then we no longer had a home, I don’t like that sound.”

She didn't even leave her mother's side, especially on the first day, not wanting to join us or even play with the toys like the others. Only after we talked to each other and became friends, did she like to join us and participate in our activities.

She looked at me for a long time and only answered me by moving her head, despite being able to speak. She was different even in the way she drew things, drawing the same thing every time, and whenever we heard the sound of hail again, she would ask me if this sound (the sound of the earthquake) would happen again, asking if it would be the same as what happened on Friday, stones falling, people screaming, people running away again, people injured, people dead). I would try to explain it to her simply, in a way that made sense in the mind of a six-year-old girl.

It is not easy for a child at a young age to process what happened to them that night, and sometimes if they hear any strong sound, it immediately reminds them of the sound of the earthquake. Perhaps we can say that it is normal for them to be afraid because it is not only difficult to feel, see and live the night of September 8, but also not easy to continue to remember the sound and feel fear even after more than three months.

So, God willing, we will try to overcome this fear and learn that life continues, and for it to continue, we cannot stop at the first obstacle in our lives, but rather learn from it.

We moved from the same province and the Amizmiz municipality to the Ineghede roundabout in the Anougal community, and here is another story. A child who, as far as you can see, is a child with a strong sense of movement, and at the same time carries a lot of sadness inside her.

February 5th was our first day in the village of Ineghede. I can't find words to express what my eyes have seen in villages like Ingid, the sadness and destruction of villages, the death of many people, and the psyche of these people.

As usual, there are psychosocial support workshops for women and children, and we did the first activity; coloring,  after which we discussed our experiences or stories with the earthquake.

I distributed papers to them and asked them to write what they felt and draw what they saw which remained firmly in their minds from that night. Everyone participated in the activity, and everyone embodied many emotions in their paper.

Each of them spoke about what they drew with sadness: Some drew for me the houses that collapsed that morning, and some depicted the image of the light that was emanating from the sky that day, and the most painful of them were those who drew for me his relatives and friends who died.

The story of a child with a naturally cheerful spirit begins with her sad drawing of her brother who died in the earthquake. Before this drawing activity, as I've said before, she's such a relaxed soul that you can't tell if she's happy or not.

We did our activities, including the drawing activity, after which this child finished her drawing and called me to discuss it. I asked her what was wrong and you were barely excited to tell me about your drawing! Of course, I didn't get any answer but silence at that moment.

We talked to each other in whispers, and indeed, this beautiful child was carrying a lot of sadness inside that was not visible on the outside at the time. We all gathered together and tried to comfort each other, and the comforting spirit returned to the beauty of her nature.

We did many activities, including recreational and educational activities, and ultimately ended with overwhelming joy for the children.

Their enthusiastic embrace of the workshop was the embodiment of the most satisfying outcome that could be achieved. Through this experience, we learned the profound lesson that despite the prevailing sadness and pain, we constantly strive to overcome this stage of adversity.

This was our goal as facilitators of psychosocial support, whether we were working with children or parents: to help individuals pass through difficult stages, instill the importance of holding on to hope, and reminder them that life continues forward.