Grandir au MAROC _ vivre au rythme des Traditions ⎮Mon Beau Village - Documentaire Complet - BL

This is me, Hasna. I'm 12 years old and I live in Emilchil. My village is at 2200 meters of altitude in the Moroccan Atlas. The Atlas is a very large mountain that crosses the whole of the Maghreb. In Berber, we say Aslas, which means the beam that carries the roof of the house. Every morning, before going to school, I feed my animals. My cow is called Yasra and she is very greedy. In a few days, my little village will become the center of the world. We have all been waiting for a year for a big religious and cultural holiday, the Moussem of engagement. My girlfriend, Oumema, comes to pick me up every morning to go to school. We have to go to our friend, Luna. Let's go to our friend. Let's go to the other side. Then we go to our friend, Swad. Swad! They are my best friends. We are like twin sisters. Sometimes I imagine that we are the heroines of my favorite cartoon. The Fantastic Girls. Each one has a power to fight the bad guys. And I would like to be the one who sends lasers with her green eyes. This is my school, the only one in the village. In blue, it is its name written in Arabic. In green, it is described in Berber, the language of my ancestors, which is called Amazigh. I am from the Haithaza tribe. There are many Berber tribes in my region. The Haith Brahim tribe lives in the villages around Nushil. We are all from the Haith Haridou tribe. But we are above all Moroccans. We start and finish the week by singing the national anthem. One, two, three, the national anthem! In my class, CMA and CM2 are mixed because my school is not big enough for all the students who also come from other small villages. Some are late because they come from far away. One, two, three, the national anthem! There are some who are really very late, even if they live very close. One, two, three, the national anthem! This morning is grammar and Arabic conjugations lesson. In the afternoon, we have French class. The books in French open in reverse of the books in Arabic. We write from left to right, whereas in Arabic we write from right to left. Today, the teacher asked us to write an essay. We want to write a memory about someone in our family. It reminds me of the lake near my house and the legend of Isli and Islit that my mother told me. Once upon a time, Isli and Islit, two lovers who could not get married, because their tribe was at war. Islit, the fiancée, was like me, from the Haithaza tribe, and Isli, the fiancée, was from the Haithbrain tribe. Mad with grief because they were separated, Isli and Islit began to cry, cry, cry until they died. But their tears gave birth to two very beautiful lakes, Islit Lake, near my village, and Isli Lake, which I have never seen, on the other side of the mountain. My twin brother and I were inseparable, like Isli and Islit. He was my best friend, he was with whom I went to school. But now he goes to school because I have doubled. Before, we did our homework together, I miss it a bit. I miss my father too, he is very old now and I don't see him much because he is still the factor between Himilchil and Midelt, two hours away. My mother's name is Rabha and she likes to show us the photos of our family. With my twin brother Asin, we are the youngest of the family. My father, Ali, already had children before marrying my mother. It reminds me of many beautiful memories, even if some are no longer there. At the moment, it doesn't move much in my village. There are really more people than usual, because the big holiday of the year is approaching, the Moussem of engagement. After the death of Isli and Islit, the two rival tribes decided to make peace. And since that day, every year, they celebrate their impossible love with a big souk and a big party. My whole village is preparing to welcome visitors from all over Morocco and tourists from all over the world. I can't wait for it to start. But today, there is no school and I am preparing the pancakes to invite us. I like to knead the dough, the air bubbles burst like when I eat chewing gum. But for the rest, it's my aunt Yamna who helps me. She teaches me how to make identical balls. I feel like we're going to have a great time. My grandson-in-law, Nabil, is always the first to taste, even when it's still hot. It makes me happy to help my mother, who is a little tired at the moment. It makes me especially happy to make my cousins and my aunts taste my pancakes. Eat! It's so good. Go back to your place. Let me go. I'm only going to leave you two, Sophie and Traboni. In our Berber culture, handicraft is very important. We make fabrics of all colors and, above all, beautiful wool carpets. Just before the holidays, we turn the sheep so that they are less hot in the summer. It seems that it is their wool, and so beautiful, it is because they drink the good, sweet water of Lake Kislik. It takes a lot of wool to make a carpet. But before turning it into a thread, you have to comb it like hair. Zohra and her daughter, Salma, make carpets like our ancestors, with a Berber craft called azeta. Zohra teaches me to respect wool as a living being. Wool does not speak, it has no blood, but it has a soul, which we call roj. Let's go, let's go. It seems that the soul is just at the intersection of the threads. It is also said that the quality of the fabric woven is a reflection of the spirit of those who use it. It is better that it is clear and not muddy. For me, it mainly teaches me patience. It takes a month to make a carpet. One day, I would like to make a beautiful wool carpet all by myself, to offer it to my mother. When my mother combs me, it reminds me of the wool that we brush. It pulls my hair, and my brother has a lot of fun. But hey, if he had more hair, he would be less clever. The bachelors' fair begins today, and with my friends, we are already getting into the atmosphere. It is with Umema that we go to the great souk of the fair. Here, we have two heads. The road is long, and I have never gone so far from my village. I am not used to it, and it gives me seasickness. The whole great tribe of the Hait-Hadidou gathers around the mausoleum of the Holy Protector. It is an opportunity to get together as a family, to exchange news, and sometimes to get married. Not so long ago, as a tribute to Isli and Kislik, dozens of lovers came to make an offering to the Holy Protector. Then, they could get married at the kelele under the great tents. This is why it is called the mausem of the bachelors. But the tradition is a little lost. The mausem is always an opportunity to sell, to buy, and to exchange a lot of things. Animals and crops against fabrics, utensils, or oil and sugar. Winter is rough in the mountains of the Atlas, and the roads are often blocked when it snows. So, it's time to make the offering. This year, the Muslim New Year falls on the same day as the Mausem. All the children are happy, because we buy them a lot of toys. It's like Christmas in France. This is for you. The New Year begins with the New Moon. And the mausem of the bachelors ends with the great holiday of Imsil. The Mausem of the bachelors I can't wait to see my favorite band in real life. I've only seen them on TV. The Mausem of the bachelors This great holiday brings us all together, and reminds us of something very important. Whatever our tribe, our problems, or our disputes, we must continue to help each other. The Mausem of the bachelors 40,000 years ago, there were no plants or animals in the region. When a meteorite entered the atmosphere, it split into two twin meteorites. They dug two craters, which later became lakes. The earth was injured and traumatized, but at the same time, life appeared in the region. I now know that both versions tell the same story. Even in the sad moments of life, there is always a little hope. The Mausem of the bachelors