Coastal View & Moor News Issue 29 November - December 2012


In search of the African Haha tribe The argan forest and the amazing tree-climbing goats


Our very own Wayfarer tells his account, exclusively to Coastal View readers, of what is probably his most exciting adventure yet


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rare and much sought after argan oil, I was determined to track down its source and visit the remote area of North Africa where members of the isolated Haha tribe harvest the argan nuts and process the oil in their own back yards. The argan forest is unique in that it’s the only


bout six months ago, when I read that scientists had discovered the powers of the


place on earth where these trees can be found. The oil is said to be an effective antioxidant and anticarcinogen which also prevents the skin ageing, strengthens hair and nails, cures many skin problems, assists healing etc. However, the argon trees have been gradually declining due to burning for charcoal and surprisingly by tree-climbing goats who`ve taken a fancy to the argan nuts and the foliage of the trees. With better control, organised harvesting of the


nuts in a fair manner and with effective marketing, argon oil can preserve the future of most of the population of this area. My first step was to bombard African hotels and businesses to find a contact. The vast majority of my enquiries went unanswered but somewhere along the line I made contact with eco-explorer Jan Kalserud. Jan was a lecturer in social sciences in Sweden


was keen to organise an expedition to the argan forest with the possibility, if it was a success, of using it as a prototype for future eco-tours to the benefit of the local people. A good Shilha friend of his, Rachid, had family and contacts in the area. Through him, arrangements were made to visit a family of the Haha tribe in the remote village of Boucho. Jan`s sister, Margareta , came over from Sweden for the trip. We set off from Essauoira on the West coast of North Africa in an incredibly unroadworthy looking old vehicle, which the locals called a taxi! Surprisingly it could motor along at quite a speed


until he visited the Western coast of North Africa, fell in love with the place and moved to Essaouira about 25 years ago. He`s been there ever since, living with the local Berbers – the Shilha people, adapting to their way of life and dedicating much of his time to improving their lot. Jan was quite enthusiastic to my approach and


appearing from nowhere – old men on donkeys laden with water carriers, an exotically dressed African woman with a huge bundle on her head and a young girl chasing a baby camel, to name a few. At last we entered the village of Boucho and the little homestead of the Mobarak family. I say village, but I don`t think there were more than half a dozen houses sprinkled about. The house appeared to be built of stone and hard dried mud and was neatly finished in white. The interior was small with only one small window to each room but it was immaculately clean and shoes had to be removed in the courtyard before entering. Thankfully, the temperature inside was a good 8c cooler than the 36c we`d had to endure outside. Our lunch started with the traditional hand washing with water poured over the hands by our host. Then followed the tea making which is almost a ceremony in itself. The tea is infused with mint and is very sweet. Seated on cushions on the floor around the low table, we then enjoyed a superb lunch – all home grown or home made by this self- sufficient family. There were several different types of bread from the usual flat, circular unleavened loaf preferred in that area to a pancake type and another that reminded me of pikelets. The idea was to tear pieces from these breads in turn and dip them in any of a number of bowls, the contents varying from honey, olive oil, a type of butter, to some type of a grain/oil concoction. There was also a plate of what appeared to be little dark chocolate cakes. They were in fact oblongs cut directly from the honey combs. You sucked the honey from them and discarded the chewy black remains. After lunch the head of the family showed us


the argan oil production room where his wife and eldest daughter were sat on the floor cracking the argon nuts between two stones. The kernels were roasted and then put into a hole in the centre of a large, flat round stone seated on another bowled shaped one beneath it. The upper stone was turned round and round, grinding the nuts into a paste-like dough which slowly oozed out along a channel cut in the lower stone. This dough was then formed into flat round “cakes” which were then kneaded repeatedly to squeeze the oil out. To produce the more refined argon oil for use in cosmetics, the roasting stage is omitted but the process then requires more nuts and more time. Our host then showed us round his small plot of


and eventually it deposited us in the middle of nowhere, where we started our trek. As we approached the argan trees, to our dismay they looked dead – like huge prickly hawthorn trees but all grey and devoid of any greenery. However, as we progressed, we started to see sprinklings of green amongst the branches. They got greener and greener until the forest was in full flourish as we approached an underground water source. The trees have roots 40 ft deep and soon recover when there`s a hint of water about. We had to make a slight circular detour to avoid the areas infested with poisonous snakes as Margareta had a thing about them, actually so did I but thanks to Margareta I didn`t feel the need to admit it. But after many miles in the blazing heat we came to the underground spring area. The timing couldn`t have been better as a goat herdsman was just arriving to water his donkeys and goats in the long trough there. After much banter and taking of photographs we were just leaving when I spotted a huge argon tree full of goats. We set off again, but this time more cautiously as


we`d been warned not to knock over any of millions of large stones covering the ‘stony desert’ that we now had to cross because there were poisonous scorpions under them. Even this part of the journey was interesting due to the variety of characters


land where he’d built his own roasting oven, his bee hives which were like small kegs laid on their sides with holes in one end, and his bakery (which doubled as the family sheep pen.) Now fully refreshed and with our camera cards rapidly filling up, we set off into the wilds once more. Although we’d avoided the worse of the midday sun, the temperature was still almost 40c and so the going was far from easy. As well as the argon trees and olive groves we also passed many thuya trees, the wood of which is used to produce those beautifully grained, hand crafted bowls, caskets and other ornaments to be seen in all the African souks. Even the weeds were interesting and everyone I pinched between the fingers gave off some exotic aroma reminiscent of the spice markets. After what seemed like a never ending trek,


we finally caught sight of the sea on the horizon. We then passed a few isolated dwellings which had neither electricity nor running water and at a nearby well spotted a young girl drawing water up to fill containers. Progress was better now dropping slowly down


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road was only single lane and seeing the occasional vehicle speeding towards us from the opposite direction was quite hair raising. It was almost like a game of chicken with both cars swerving at the last minute narrowly avoiding the drop at either side. Nevertheless it had been an excellent


experience and with some fine tuning on drop off point/walking distances, Jan should be able to use this for future treks to publicise the work of the local people and bring some much needed revenue to the area. To find out more about argan oil


why not visit Jan`s website at www. essaouira.nu/ecology_argan.htm It would also be helpful if you could


mention the virtues of argan oil to your local health store, many of which are now starting to stock it. Ken Bibby


Top left: Black goat up the tree. Tpo right: African lady grinding the nuts Bottom: Ken with the head of the Mobarak family.


to the coast and eventually we reached the tiny ‘seaside resort’ of Sidi Kaouki where we enjoyed some well earned refreshments at the local café. Our return to Essaouira was also quite an experience. The only local taxi already had several Africans shoe-horned into it but we had no choice to be squeezed in also. The long straight coastal


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