The small snack restaurant, “Snack Elbarandilla,” buzzes with the sounds of SIDI IFNI’s seaside just two streets away, but inside, the air is filled with something more captivating. The meditative rhythms of Oudaden, with Abdella el Foua’s soulful voice leading the way, echo through the space, transforming the simple meal of a chicken wrap into an immersive experience. The music, rich with the sounds of a banjo, talunt, tigwaline, tismamayeen-nakus, and guitar, is not just background noise—it’s a window into the heart of the Souss-Massa region, where each note speaks of love, tradition, and the essence of Moroccan life.
SIDI IFNI—My traveling companion Yacine and I are in a small snack restaurant called “Snack Elbarandilla” about two streets from the seaside of Sidi Ifni and there is music playing very loud inside. It’s Oudaden. Abdella el Foua is the main singer. The music is most meditative, and it features a banjo, a talunt, a tigwaline, a tismamayeen-nakus and a guitar. Oudaden has become one of my all-time favorites.
Yacine and I are grabbing a chicken taco. It does not look like a Mexican taco, and it does not taste like one either. This is the Moroccan version of a chicken taco: it’s a mix of chicken and potatoes in a wrap. And it’s incredibly tasty, just like the chicken sandwiches I have had in Lebanon.
Each region of Morocco has its own musical style, and Oudaden has become part of the genetic code of the Souss-Massa region. It partly defines the region the same way desert blues defines the desert areas of Morocco or raï music defines the East of Morocco, especially the city of Oujda. Oudaden reminds me of another Moroccan genre called Rwais music with the main singer leading the band and the other singers responding with their instruments as well as with their voices. The call and response creates its own dancing and rhythm. Oudaden mostly sings about love. I don’t understand the lyrics, but some friends have translated some words for me, and when I heard the band live in Agadir, during the Timitar festival, a few weeks prior, whatever the band was singing moved everybody, young and old, groups as well as individuals on their own. It felt like at that moment, music became their “raison de vivre.” Sports and music are two central elements of Moroccan culture, I was told by Neila Tazi, the founder of the Essaouira Gnawa music festival.
Sidi Ifni, a beautiful, tiny Southern white and blue town right on the sea often has a light mist. It is full of small hills where houses stand, with mountains on one side and the sea on the other. Men, referred to as “the blue men,” the desert men, or the tuareg, wear white, black or green scarves, called “chech,” around their heads, and long blue outfits. Women wear colorful dresses, the “melhfa,” made of one long scarf which covers most of their bodies, including their hair and sometimes their chin. These desert clothes are also worn in the towns of Tan-Tan, Laayoune or Dakhla.
When I heard Oudaden at the Timitar festival, the crowd was enormous. It was in the center of another Southern town, much bigger than Sidi Ifni: It was Agadir. The Timitar festival was created by Brahim El Mazned and it mostly promotes Amazigh music although the lineup was incredibly diverse this year, with rap artists such as Dystinct or Douzi. “Timitar,” an Amazigh word, means “signs” or “marks.”
El Mazned believes “it is important to have more events and more spaces for artists, especially now,” in times of crises. “People need even more energy, creativity, financial means and open-mindedness for young artists who were born post-Covid.” El Mazned is aware that “these represent enormous challenges.” But Timitar succeeds in scheduling very famous (such as Les Amazones d’Afrique) as well as up and coming artists (such as Jubantouja) to his festival. El Mazned is happy that the Amazigh community, which were marginalized for a very long time, can “proudly take up public space.” And that space is accessible to all since the festival is free.
Mourad Bachkou, a Gnawi performer from Agadir whose rough and warm voice always makes me shiver and touches my soul, believes in every Moroccan artist’s responsibility to “spread their culture and share their music with other people.” Bachkou explained to me that the Souss-Massa region is rife with “folklore music such as Gnawa, Ismgan, Ahwach… and so on.” He feels his role is “to give back to [his] country and especially [his] city Agadir because without it [he] wouldn’t be able to play music.”
Bachkou is excited about Morocco, which is incredibly diverse musically. “From the north to the south, Morocco has different cultures and that directly influences music in a beautiful way,” he says. There is Amazigh music from the High Atlas or Gnawa from Souss, he explains. “Even Tagnawit itself has many schools that differ from the south to the north of morocco.” Morocco is “a vast uncharted musical territory we can shape as musicians,” he adds.
I never tire of the rich cultural diversity of a Kingdom which, in spite of its numerous economic and health challenges, continues to try and prioritize the arts.
Updated: September 4, 2024