The Closer the Summer, the More I Miss the Tribe I Grew Up In.

It wasn't just our tribe, we embraced it from our early childhood, it was an integrated and diverse village, with everything anyone could wish for from childhood to his senses. It has the first green nature, apple and fig trees, some lost pines, and wild shrubs that form among them a natural haven for birds, those beautiful creatures that we have been chasing relentlessly during hunting missions throughout the whole village, especially at the bottom of the valleys where the tide did not reach them Urban yet. There we found the many proofs of some of the tales and stories of history about the difficult life of the ancient people of this region, in order to preserve their freedom and the freedom of their beliefs

The remains of the humble houses built of rugged stone, whose earthly roof collapsed, were the best evidence of a difficult life they had lived, breaking the rock and making fruitful majesty from the harsh slopes

In these empty houses of every life remembered, we found a secret stomping behind its large open doors waiting for a road that landed unknowingly on the branches of the pine tree. And I, in conjunction with my hobby, which I no longer practice, carrying a sense of guilt, had the pleasure of creating stories in my mind about what was going on in those empty houses of every life

My actual goal at the time was not to hunt birds, and I do not say this in order to raise the reproach or the late apology of her grandchildren, but I was actually finding in those trips that start very early with the first sunrise, occasions to get to know the wild nature of its beauty and diversity, to go down the valley, and then return the To the top, for a kind of physical and intellectual tameness, to discover nature, that 'other' that was the actual opposite of our life in the city throughout the year

As summer approaches, In the city where I have my workplace and where I currently live in Casablanca, I've been starting short trips to prepare for a return to the village, so I can take advantage of the weekend (Saturday and Sunday), when the weather permits, to spend in our summer house in the village. I was walking around the village and its valleys, under a sky pierced by swallow racks and clusters of north-south-to-south storks, accompanied by their own hymns that filled the air with melodies.

On the outskirts of the valley that separates our village from the villages on the front hills, there was a big rock that we used to hide behind, when the migrant swallow slving arrived. We gave her the name 'Swallow Rock' and perhaps still where she is, silently and persistently oversees the valley.

I can say that the most important thing the village was giving us was a deep sense of psychological comfort and absolute security. At a time when there were no cell phones yet, our parents weren't afraid to let us have fun from the early hours of the morning until the end of the day, all over village, as if the whole village was ours.

Perhaps the most beautiful thing that connects us to the village, that deep feeling that we live under a different system, still retains some characteristics of the agricultural economic system, where the relationship between man and things directly and intimate, and where the principle of caring for and maintaining things prevails on the principle of rapid consumption, a system based on Different foundations from our modern era, which allowed the destruction of nature and heritage in order to achieve rapid profit, indifferent to the necessary harmony between things and their surroundings, and between man and his surroundings. That economic system was also free, with a broader meaning. It wasn't based on monopoly and the exploitation of private property to the fullest extent, so most of the space was open to us.

_{Auto share it on Twitter via IFTTT service}