Changing Landscapes and Cultural Keystone Species in Morocco’s High Atlas
Curiousity and methods skills are key to social-ecological research. Please join us on the fieldwork journey of two MSc candidates: Chaima Mobarak and Lilliana Hatoum.
White almond blossoms sprinkle the hillsides around us — yet, we are unaware. It’s pitch black outside the windows, except for silvery moonrays and our headlights’ cones on patchy tarmac. I’m worried about unseen obstacles, lurking behind each turn of the road. My colleague Mario remains unflappable though, and safely navigates past the occasional rock, tight turns, and a man in the shadows.
Hatching Plans and Research Questions
Waking up, we set sight on large stone oaks, pollarded ash trees, and olive stands in the distance. Farmers’ terraces glisten almost tinted green, in the harsh early-March light. We explore the landscape and eventually settle below a sprawling walnut tree, hatching plans: Aït Blal — a rural commune in the heart of Morocco’s High Atlas — will be Lilliana’s and Chaima’s base for the coming weeks. They will gather empirical data for their thesis projects.
“Fieldwork tends to entail many puzzles: Some conceptual, others practical — but creativity is always in high demand.”
Many questions get asked: Will fried eggs be lunch — six times a week? Except on market days, when the town’s only restaurant opens to serve a great lentil stew?
Which species should Lilliana cover, when asking local residents about their cultural links to the region’s agroforestry trees? And how will Chaima gain her respondents’ trust, during interviews about their favorite memories and landscape spots?
“Soon our ways part: Mario, Tobias, and I depart towards Marrakech, while Chaima’s and Lilliana’s independent research journey starts!”
Chaima’s story: Navigating a Changing Landscape — Climate, Culture, and Sustainability
Soon after the group’s departure, our interviews commenced. My research topic, aimed at exploring the relationship between humans and the landscape, and changes related to climate change and socio-economic development, enthused me.
The adoption of open-ended questions and storytelling — as a method — provided great windows to cast a glance at local farmers’ diverse perspectives and experiences.
“Each interviewee perceived changes in the social and physical landscape uniquely and adapted accordingly.”
My interviews also involved many different languages — some were in Arabic, others in the local language Tamazight, even others in French. Speaking the local language proved to be crucial in communicating with the respondents.
“Certain ideas and concepts were challenging to translate, nontheless. For example, ‘climate change’ was perceived, and its impacts were discussed, but the Tamazight vocabulary includes no equivalent term.”
I resolved this by explaining the phenomenon and referring back to interviewees’ ealier replies. For instance, I would ask: “You mentioned that rain is less frequent, and temperatures rise alongside droughts — what actions have you taken to deal with these challenges?”
The following weeks were productive: I completed several interviews per day, in fields, the coffee shop, respondents’ houses, the mountains, and even in our hostel. On the occasional day off, I reflected on the data and savored the breathtaking landscape.
“Market day was a favourite, as we could purchase fresh fruits and recruit respondents from distant villages.”
Finding women to interview posed challenging, however. Their demanding schedules often left little time for interviews. And while fasting during Ramadan, most people preferred to stay home.
An unforgettable moment took place during my 17th interview: A woman tried to attack me with a long olive branch. My respondent— Mohammed — quickly intervened to calm the situation. He realised the misunderstanding, and all ended peacefully, when he explaining that the woman mistook me for a girl, who had visited Aït Blal before.
The process of transcription, coding, and recoding my interviews was long. But the initial findings faithfully reflected my field observations:
“Water availability emerged as a pivotal driver behind changes in people’s connection with the landscape — evoking intricate emotions of depreciation, concern, and heightened environmental awareness.”
Shifts in the economic profitability of farming substantially alter people’s appreciation for the landscape, land-use functions, and the types of crops cultivated.
“The interplay of these changes becomes evident as residents’ sense of community shifts, leading to reduced connections among themselves and with the landscape.”
Lilliana’s story: Cultural Keystone Species of Aït Blal
At first glance, Aït Blal is full of trees: The region’s dynamic terrain is characterised by farm trees on neatly groomed terraces. The possibility of research thus felt vast, when I first set sight on the community’s lush agricultural landscapes.
“The goal of my research was to understand the values and knowledge of Aït Blal’s residents — about the multiple uses and cultural roles of High Atlas farm trees.”
To do this, I developed a questionnaire, based on Garibaldi and Turner’s (2004) ‘cultural keystone species’ concept. After some discussion, we agreed on a list of five most seemingly prominent species to explore: Almond (Prunus dulcis), ash (Fraxinus dimorpha), holm oak (Quercus ilex), olive (Olea europaea), and walnut (Juglans regia).
With the help of Alae — a Moroccoan master student, acting as my translator — I set out to learn more about these trees. We meandered through Aït Blal’s admirable farming landscapes, in search of local people, who would share their insights with us.
“We sat perched on a hillside, listening to a respondent narrating the view of terraces ahead; reluctantly drank a fourth glass of shockingly sweet tea, behind the butcher’s table during Thursday souk; and tasted the freshest bread, and purest olive oil that ever met my mouth.”
Respondents’ accounts of change dynamics in the region were often less uplifting: Among idyllic stories about fruits that the landscape bore in the past, lamentations of increasing drought and consequences of development in the region were almost ubiquitous.
“The iconic walnut trees of Aït Blal are becoming ‘burned’, for lack of water, one woman remarked. Another man spoke of the diminishing importance of oak trees, as younger generations move away to pursue education instead of agriculture.”
People described these changes with nostalgia for the past: On one hand, some people held little sentimentality for certain species — such as the ash tree — which is used for animal feed. Conversely, the olive tree is an undeniably strong ‘cultural keystone species’ candidate.
“Fondness for this species and its products was articulated with slogans such as ‘if there’s no olive oil, there’s nothing’.”
The relevance of understanding the cultural significance of these species, and the effects that a loss would have on the local communities, thus became evident.
With each tree type bearing its own significance, I find myself ruminating on the following questions: How might the disappearance of one species change the livelihoods and culture of Aït Blal’s people? Is understanding climatic and socioeconomic shifts essential for preserving cultural heritage? And what is most vital for the region’s people — working to retain their traditions and cultural memories — or socio-economic security in a changing world?
“I do not believe that these goals must exist in opposition — but rather — that conservation efforts to sustain these rich biocultural landscapes should be community-led and centered around traditional knowledge”.
Good-bye, Aït Blal!
The day, when we completed our data collection marked the end of an amazing fieldwork experience.
“Our encounters were often filled with generosity and enthusiasm. Friendships have been forged and some respondents now know us by name”.
Our stay was challenging at times, but we would eagerly repeat it. Thank you, from the entire research team!
Authors
This article was written collaboratively by Chaima Mobarak, Lilliana Hatoum, and Laura Kmoch.
Further Reading
Take a look at the Landscape Chains Project website, for insights about our research aims, study sites, and publications on Morocco.
Read Biocultural conservation systems in the Mediterranean region: the role of values, rules, and knowledge, for insights about Moroccan pastoralists’ agdal practices.
Read Impressions of drought in Morocco, for insights about drought impacts on Morocco’s rural communities.
Read People • Nature • Landscapes, for more posts on our group’s social-ecological systems research.
