On the way to the Hercules Caves. Chapter 2
The first thing I want to do in Morocco is inspect Mount Gurugú, facing Melilla, to look for the makeshift camps where undocumented immigrants live on its slopes. These sub-Saharan migrants spend all their savings trying to get to the other side of the fence, patiently waiting for an opportunity to jump over and start living their European dream. With a bit of luck, "they'll become famous footballers and get rich."
Reality is usually much harsher. In fact, a Melilla taxi driver told me that many weekends he and his friends cross the border and head to Mount Gurugú, the highest point of the Tres Forcas peninsula, to bring some food and basic supplies to the immigrants. This ancient volcano, almost 900 meters high, was the site of fierce battles between Spanish troops and the Rif resistance led by Abd el-Krim.
On clear days, you can see Algeria, the Chafarinas Islands, and even the Sierra Nevada on the other side of the Mediterranean from its summit. Besides the immigrants waiting to cross, several colonies of Barbary macaques live on the slopes of Mount Gurugú. There’s even an important archaeological site dependent on ancient Rusadir (Melilla) called Taxuda, which belonged to the ancient kingdom of Mauretania.
Interestingly, in the local dialect of the Canary Island of El Hierro, the term "gurugú" is a common word meaning "gathering of people" or "gossip spot." Do the inhabitants of North Africa have something in common with those of the distant and solitary island of El Hierro? Various theories suggest so.
But my hopes are dashed. I reach the turnoff towards Mount Gurugú, and a police patrol blocks my way. The Alaouite kingdom is in charge of immigration; "when they want to punish Spain, they'll allow a mass crossing again." For now, I've just started my journey, and I'm not looking for trouble, getting caught with the drone, or being sent back to Spain.
The area is heavily militarized, even with some tanks visible. I suppose the mass crossing in June 2022, during which "unofficially" a hundred sub-Saharan migrants died, has filled the area with gendarmes. It's getting dark, so I head towards Al Hoceima, a coastal city in northern Morocco.
The capital of the Rif, less touristy than it should be given its beauty, is known for its recurring social uprisings and for the thousands of young people from the region who attempt to migrate clandestinely to southern Spain each year. Free, excited to begin my African journey, I drive through the small roads and villages of deep Morocco. It’s evident I’ve left Spain; the organized chaos fills me with satisfaction.
I skirt Mount Gurugú and suddenly come across a funeral. A bit further on, a donkey crossing without looking forces me to brake. I decide to take the coastal N16 road because it’s getting dark, and I intend to reach Al Hoceima. I don’t know where I’ll sleep, but tired and after more than three hours of driving, I stop my vehicle at the entrance of Boujibar National Park. I fall asleep in the driver's seat without dinner.
Despite the discomfort of sleeping in a utility vehicle, I realize that in my 2016 Renault Captur, it’s relatively easy to sleep. The front seats recline almost horizontally. Enough. I look around and am amazed by the beautiful views of the Mediterranean forest of Boujibar, though I’m hungry, so I head to Al Hoceima for a good Moroccan breakfast.
Now I understand why the capital of the Rif is relatively touristy during the summer. Perched on a 70-meter-high cliff in a bay surrounded by rugged mountains plunging into crystal-clear waters, it’s surrounded by numerous white sandy coves with Spanish names. I walk into any bar and enjoy, for two euros, a chocolate croissant, a piece of bread, an egg, olives, honey, and a good glass of fresh orange juice.
Thanks to El Salto, I learn that a social movement called ‘hirak’ emerged by chance in late 2016 after the murder of Mohsen Fikri, a humble 31-year-old fish seller living in Al Hoceima. "The police had confiscated his merchandise, and when he tried to retrieve it, he was crushed inside a garbage truck.
The dramatic story galvanized the youth of a region with a long history of conflict with the Moroccan government, which is why it was marginalized for decades in state investment plans." A clear and concise summary of what’s going on. El Salto continues: “The figure of Mohamed VI is sacred, and in all Moroccan cities, including Al Hoceima, you can see on a nearby hill a large mosaic with three words: -God, homeland, king-.”
You can also read statements from locals: “The other day, in this very café, a drunk man started criticizing the king. Suddenly, a dozen supposed customers pounced on him and arrested him." Considering that the city barely exceeds 100,000 inhabitants, the ratio of security forces to the local population might approach that of militarily occupied regions. Over the weeks, those spontaneous protests, supported by a broad spectrum of society, transformed into a powerful social movement.
In May 2017, after several months of demonstrations, the regime launched a repression campaign that resulted in the arrest of hundreds of people. The main leaders of the hirak, like Nasser Zefzafi, were sentenced to long prison terms of up to 20 years for "sedition." Digging a bit further, I discover that the population of the Rif is mostly Amazigh or Berber, and at least part of it has never fully accepted its integration into Morocco after the Spanish colonization.
In the collective subconscious, the memory of the Rif Republic, led by Abdelkrim, which managed to free itself from Spanish control between 1921 and 1926, still lingers. “Its history is not taught in school books, nor is it talked about in the media, but its memory is very much alive. And it has gained strength, especially among the youth, following the hirak.”
In summary, the Rif is an independentist region. And no country likes independence movements. Morocco doesn’t either. And it has it in both the north and the south. To escape the clutches of anti-independence repression, hundreds of Rif activists embarked on clandestine migration to Europe to seek political asylum. It is estimated that since the spring of 2017, about 10,000 people have left the Rif beaches, many for political reasons.
But there’s another highly controversial issue: marijuana used to make hashish. Moroccan law prohibits the cultivation of cannabis, and those caught growing it can face hefty fines and imprisonment. Despite this, there are numerous plantations throughout the country, especially in the mountainous Rif region.
According to Bloomberg, the cannabis industry employs 800,000 people across Morocco and supports between 90,000 and 140,000 families. The Alaouite kingdom grows more than 50,000 hectares of cannabis sativa, producing over 40,000 tons of hashish annually, making it the world’s largest producer and generating over 10 billion dollars annually.
That’s no small feat. The history of cannabis in Morocco dates back centuries and is linked to trade routes and cultural diversity. Cannabis is believed to have arrived in Morocco after the Muslim conquest in the 7th century. From the start, it was cultivated on a small scale in the Rif region, specifically in areas like Ketama and Bab Berred since the 16th century.
In 1890, Sultan Hassan I regulated the cultivation and trade of cannabis, allowing certain tribes to produce it due to strong opposition from these tribes throughout the region. During the Protectorate (1912-1958), Spain also authorized cannabis cultivation for Rif tribes to appease the area where many protests had arisen.
In 2022, the Moroccan government passed a historic bill to legalize cannabis for medicinal and industrial purposes, opening the door to a global market worth over 20 billion dollars. However, despite these significant figures, some farmers believe the authorities want to legalize cannabis to benefit from the market. In the eyes of Moroccan law, CBD is not distinguished from cannabis, so technically, it is illegal even with very low levels of THC (Tetrahydrocannabinol), the substance that causes euphoria.
While Moroccan laboratories prepare for the law's implementation by developing tests to produce medicinal cannabis and enter the global market, and a few people are rubbing their hands in anticipation, the producers in the Rif mountains wonder about the impact of legalization on their lives.
It so happens that Morocco is the most unequal country in North Africa. In 2018, the wealth of the three richest Moroccan millionaires exceeded 4 billion euros. A worker earning the minimum wage, equivalent to about 230 euros per month back then (now about 280 euros per month), would take approximately 154 years to earn what any of these billionaires made in a year.
Turning all this information over in my mind, I drive along the winding and rocky roads of Al-Hoceima National Park, which means ‘lavender’ in Arabic. The stones bounce off the underside of my car, sounding like they’re pelting an empty can. To my right, the cliffs plunge steeply into a turquoise sea.
I pass Tetouan, aiming to reach the legendary Hercules Caves. I step on the gas carefully, avoiding any speed traps or idle gendarmes. By the time I arrive at the famous caves, it’s past six and they’re closed, so I take a stroll along the vast beaches surrounding Cape Spartel.
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