The guardian of the field

"Go Joh, ONE more coast!" Short but firm, it finished my legs. At the top, three grandpa chatting, leaning in line on the guardrail. They greet me with clapping hands, eyes full of questions ... Leached but smiling, I stop at their level. My legs do not work anyway. My little speech of presentation of the trip in Moroccan just begins to be built at this stage of the trip. I can not hide my immense satisfaction when I am understood! I'm less clever when the first questions arrive but hopefully mimes always do the job. When comes the famous question: "where do you sleep?" I take this opportunity to explain that I'm looking for a place for my mat and sleeping bag. So after a little consultation they let me know that Oussien is the guardian of the citrus field on the other side of the road. He invites me to spend the night there. Once the camp is installed along a row of citrus trees, Oussein has already prepared tea on a stove, I bring back my provisions, one of the guys from the side of the road also has bread to share, so is improvised a happy feast on a few pieces of cardboard. I'm happy to share a meal, I've been eating alone for a long time. And even if the language barrier is there, I remain admiring, in front of all, these efforts that they make to make me understand, willing to exchange bread and stories!  At first I understand that Oussein must go home and he will come back tomorrow to check that the field is fine, or something like that ... In fact Oussein also spends the night on the spot (well yes jojo, it is his job to keep the field, remember?). To camp he uses these big blankets of the wheat, very warm and comfortable but very voluminous and heavy. For me it's a bit of a shame tonight. My mattress is still punctured. I feel a little too skilled by rebutting a leak in the dark ... Too bad it was not the only hole! I'm at least as exhausted as the mattress, so I'm about to spend the night on my clothes as a spare bed.Seeing this, Oussien hands me one of his blankets and keeps his coat ... A real dad.

Ouled Ameur

For the alarm, outside, it is at daybreak with the birds. After nights with such a dew we are glad that the sun is coming. The desire to sleep more comes only far behind in the ranking of priorities. As we pack our respective stuffs, Oussien repeats to me again what he told me yesterday ... I finally understand that he invites me to come to his home, at Ouled Ameur. It is a village a few kilometers away, I would follow him on his bike to the track to the hamlet. At the end of the dirt road, already well attended at this time, a little haven of peace where time seems to have stopped a long time ago. No car but rude, we meet at least 5 shepherds with their flocks and young men from the village are on their way to the fields. Only the electric line, the caps, the shoes and the tires of the chars remind us of our century. We arrived at the man who is nicknamed mustache here, as his father was called before him. He opens the gate and we put Mysty safe in the big yard where everything happens ... I meet then a very beautiful family in the house of Oussien. His wife, his two sons and their wives and his granddaughter. A sweet and peaceful note of harmony blows in my heart as I discover the inhabitants of this house who treat me like a prince. Mom has already washed my clothes when I come out of the shower garden, we are at table the next moment in front of a fabulous tajine at least as big as my emotion. Difficult to explain with the words just the feeling that provides the warm welcome of these familiar yet unknown people who whispered to me already "if you're fine, I'm fine" in a divine smile filled with love, trust and sharing .

The souk in my heart 

After eating I go with the older son for the weekly souk to Ouled Jelloul. It's big, bigger than I thought. Around, sales of animals, cows, sheep, goats, some donkeys and horses ... this is where Oussien sold one of his cows lately. Always on the periphery are the building materials where Ammad discusses a price for these 30 wooden piles that he needs to build his own house in Ouled Ameur. After organizing the transport and passing the mechanical to straighten one of my broken trailer wheels, we arrive in the heart of the souk. This is where we will shop for the week. Difficult to determine the extent of the place as it is dense, the stalls, the people, we see only about ten meters. Heavy canvas fabrics are stretched very low above our heads, they let pass here and there the sun. Its burning rays sparkle the golden dust of the dry soil of this timeless scene. As fine as the smells of spices, they seem to be part of the great dance that has been taking place here every week for an eternel time. I would stay just a day and a night in Oussien's family. I really want to hit the road. Oussien prepared the horse and the wagon to bring me back to the national road, a noisy and colorfull departure ! The hugs are strong and sincere, it's crazy but I feel my heart tighten in my chest. I realize how quickly and how intensely my attachment to them has become, I feel so grateful. I also know really privileged to have crossed the path of the guardian of the field that night. And blessed, to have been adopted by this family of light.