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  Field Notes From
Among the Berbers



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Among the Berbers On AssignmentArrows

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From Author

Jeffrey Tayler



Among the Berbers On Assignment

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From Photographer

Alexandra Boulat



In most cases these accounts are edited versions of a spoken interview. They have not been researched and may differ from the printed article.

Photographs by Giliola Chisté (top) and Brian Strauss


 

Among the Berbers On Assignment Author Among the Berbers On Assignment Author
Among the Berbers

Field Notes From Author
Jeffrey Tayler

Best Worst Quirkiest
   Everywhere we went—especially in the eastern High Atlas mountains—people welcomed us into their homes, even if all they had to offer us was a bit of rancid butter and stale bread. They did it in a simple, yet dignified way, and they always let us know we could stay as long as we liked.


    I fell off a mule twice on this assignment. The first time I hurt my back. The second time I injured my head after my mule's hooves slid out from under him on a steep trail. I can remember seeing the sun spin over me as I went somersaulting over his rear end. When I landed, the mule's hooves were just a couple of inches from my head, which I'd cracked on a rock. But I wasn't even aware that I'd been hurt until my guide told me to try and stand up but not to look down. Well, I did look down, and my shirt was covered in blood. We still had another six hours to go, and I wasn't getting back on that mule. So my guide wrapped my head, and I walked along holding on to him. 
    Eventually an ambulance came along that was heading to the nearest town, about five hours away. They took me to a hospital. After taking x-rays, my doctors said I was lucky. According to them, I could have lost my sight. Whether that was true, I don't know, but that was the last time I got on a mule for the rest of my assignment.


   While passing through a small village we acquired a small stray dog that stayed with us for a couple weeks. Wherever we went, he dutifully loafed behind us, even when we climbed Jebel Toubkal, the highest peak in North Africa. When we got to the top, a pair of eagles with about a seven-foot (two-meter) wingspan was circling back and forth. They looked like they could have easily carried off a sheep, and one of them was eager to grab my dog, who was only about twice as big as a cat. The eagle kept flying low, waiting for the right moment, but our dog stayed close to us. We made it off the mountain without an incident, and he stayed with us for a few more days until we stopped in another village. Someone must have offered him food because he decided to stay.


   


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