By Atlas Destination
On September 8, a devastating earthquake rocked Al-Hawz. Located 50 kilometers away from the earthquake’s epicenter, we were going about our usual routines, relishing the enchanting evening atmosphere and the serene courtyards. Conversations flowed freely among friends after a long day’s work. It was at this moment that I realized I hadn’t checked my email all evening due to a busy schedule. After finally clearing my inbox, I settled down on the nearby couch, hoping for a moment of rest.
However, our tranquility was shattered as a powerful tremor jolted the earth. I waited, initially thinking it would end like a minor tremor, but it intensified to the point where flowers fell, and walls swayed violently from side to side. It became evident that this was a devastating earthquake. I hurried to the garden, but the tremors persisted with alarming strength. Walls crumbled, and the swimming pool moved eerily. Describing all the details became difficult due to the shock, but my immediate concern was my family.
I made multiple calls, hoping for news from my family and fearing for those whose homes might have collapsed. I witnessed a house collapsing amidst calls for help and the sight of wounded individuals. Finally, my father answered and reassured me that they were safe, although their house had been reduced to ruins. I also contacted my wife because our house and my father’s were separate. She too assured me of her safety.
I rushed from my workplace, which was approximately 12 kilometers away, and was met with a scene of widespread devastation – homes in ruins, dust everywhere, and massive boulders littering the streets. It was a sight one would typically associate with news reports or movies. I questioned if it was a dream or a hallucination.
Upon reaching the entrance of my village, the magnitude of the destruction became painfully clear. I headed straight to my home and found it in ruins. My father’s adobe house was equally devastated. Everyone stood in collective shock, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what had transpired, and the scale of the tragedy.
We continued to hear cries for help beneath the rubble. Our attempts to reach them were hampered by the sheer volume of debris and floors collapsed upon one another. Until late afternoon, we engaged in the harrowing task of rescuing victims from the rubble. The smell of death hung heavy in the air. By that time, we had recovered 18 bodies, and we held a collective prayer and burial for them in a mass grave, a heart-wrenching scene.
Subsequently, more bodies were recovered, bringing the total death toll to 23. It was a horrifying and surreal experience, unlike anything our ancestors or parents had ever described.
In the days that followed, we began to adapt to our new reality. Days felt like years, and we experienced moments of joy for our survival and the outpouring of support and assistance from Moroccans and friends worldwide. Moments of sadness were equally profound, as we mourned the loss of our children, elders, and grandparents.
All of this happened, and life continues in the high Atlas Mountains. We are the ones who will rebuild these homes, and we will bring life back to these valleys and mountains.
