Plant Trees to Empower Farming Families in Morocco

On February 28, I went on with HAF staff member Hajiba and Mohammed, another volunteer, to the Illou private school to present two workshops on global warming. We were welcomed by the Director, Mrs. Illou, before going to a classroom where we met about 30 second-year students. During the workshop, Hajiba presented the different aspects of global warming and its effects on the environment, such as the higher temperatures that cause drier summers and therefore wildfires. The eager students participated actively in the discussion by evocating terms with which they are familiar: CO2 emissions, recycling, renewable energies…

After this first workshop, we went straight to another room where a group of primary school pupils was waiting for us. Mohammed led there his very first workshop in front of a passionate young audience. At this age, the schoolchildren have only a bit of an idea of what global warming is, but they still have already heard about it, thanks to awareness campaigns, television, or their family. None of them were afraid to take part into the dialogue; they were all eager to participate.

After this second activity, we planted trees in front of the school with both classes. The children were very happy to put into practice what they had just learned: some were digging holes, some watering the plants, and others planted the trees and flowers.

As part of a series of plantings executed during the green week (from 24 February to 1 March), initiated by AESVT Morocco, the goal of this event is to raise awareness on the importance of trees and their roles in ensuring revenues for rural families or creating oxygen from carbon dioxide.

[Jingxin is a college student from China who attends school in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in the United States. She is currently on a “gap year,” volunteering with HAF.]

The trip to Nzalat Laadam was just like any other. If it weren’t for the ever-so-imposing red in the background, we could easily be driving to the grocery store in downtown Philadelphia, not on a volunteering mission through the High Atlas Mountain. The laughter in the car, the comfortable silence, the occasional friendly quarrels about what route to take… all of it screamed “familiar.” Well, except for the thumping heart in my chest – this was my first-ever field trip with High Atlas Foundation, and I had no idea what to expect.

We were going to conduct a workshop on sustainable development and our destination was an “integrated pedagogic complex,” a cumbersome phrase in French meaning the school covered everything from kindergarten to high school. As one stepped in, what seized one’s eyes immediately was the complex builders’ generosity with colors – the light red façade, the lilac inner walls, the cyan columns… It took some getting used to when one was accustomed to the imperial red of Marrakech.

“Look,” Léo, my fellow volunteer from France, said as he tapped me on my shoulder while I was still admiring the building’s architectural merits, “they put our names on the poster, too.” I looked at where he was pointing and saw that even Léo’s middle name was printed there. This turned out to be only the prelude to their unrelenting hospitality. The school principals as well as many senior teachers were all there to greet us, shaking our hands and muttering welcome in three languages. Then there was tea, another round of handshaking, and a photo shoot – the first of many.

The French teacher introduced us to an always-smiling middle-aged man with full beard. The whole time we were there he never took a rest, always carrying chairs and equipment around and making sure no one was neglected. The teacher told us this man poured his heart and soul into the school, that he had laid its every stone. Quite literally, for even the traffic sign was hand-made by him.

The sustainability workshop was conducted in the open air. Students of all ages – about 80 of them – attended, and everybody was standing. Our project manager, Imane, won the crowd immediately with her characteristic charm, as per usual. She used every chance to engage with the students, playing games and asking questions, and she kept walking around to make sure that she was addressing everybody. Having just entered the wonderful age of adolescence, some girls were clearly struggling with their newly-developed self-consciousness and got intimidated by the crowd. But every time they spoke, Imane would ask for their names, and dedicated to them a round of applause when they finished. Soon enough, everybody was participating. As the discussion was in Arabic, I didn’t understand much of it. But the laughter, the enthusiasm and the warmth transcended all linguistic barriers. It was a language understood by all.

After the discussion, we started to plant trees. The holes were already dug out and were carefully aligned at even intervals. I was in charge of 10-15 girls, who, after a quick exchange in Arabic, promptly decided to name the tree Jingxin. Sure, as kids, we seldom dream about having a tree named after us 10,000 miles from home, but the moment when the girls pointed to the fragile sapling and shouted my name (not the correct pronunciation, but who cares?) felt more like a dream-come-true than any other. Later, a girl showed me a collection of her artworks. They were all abstract splash-inks, and they came in the wildest combination of colors. You never know underneath the monotonous red of the High Atlas mountain there lies the surging black, the blossoming orange, the pouring blue and the burning yellow, all of it stirring and igniting a young girl’s heart.

At Nzalat Laadam, I was impressed by many things: the astonishing organizational efficiency, the compassion and mutual respect, the dedication to service, and of course, the splendid colors of the High Atlas Mountain. Trust me, there’s more to it than meets the eye.