All language subtitles for Morocco To Timbuktu An Arabian Adventure Series 1 1of2 720p HDTV MVGroup

The Sahara Desert, Mali,

home to one of Earth's most
mysterious and legendary places.

Africa's fabled city of gold.

Timbuktu.

My name's Alice Morrison.

I'm an Arabist and explorer.

I live in Morocco,

and since childhood I've dreamt of
making the gruelling journey

across the Sahara
to see this ancient city

before it's lost for
ever to sand and war.

I love touching history.

In this series, I'll track 2,000
miles following
ancient trade routes,

often known as salt roads,
across some of the world's
most hostile lands.

Timbuktu is at the centre of
all these trade routes,

and I want to follow them, and
find it, and see what's there.

'I'll pass through some magical
places that time has barely
touched.'

Oh, wow!

'Relying on the hospitality
of Berber nomads.'

He's just cutting up the heart.

'And I'll come face-to-face
with some frightening
modern-day realities.'

I'm beginning to feel quite nervous.

'Travelling deep beneath the veil

'into the heart of ancient
and modern North Africa,

'I'll discover
its incredible forgotten history...

'..en route to the legendary city
of gold, Timbuktu.'

The Mediterranean Sea,
Mare Nostrum.

'The basin of civilisation.

'My 2,000-mile journey begins here.

'Behind me, Europe,
ahead of me, Africa

'and an intoxicating mix
of new experiences,
danger and untold wealth.

'First up, the historic trading port
of Tangier,

'on the northernmost tip
of Morocco.'

I'm trying to imagine what it was
like hundreds of years ago,

when you had ships here in full
sail, stuffed to the gunwales
with spices,

with ostrich feathers, with metal,
with wool from Manchester.

I wonder what it would have been
like if you were a merchant in
those days,

coming across from cold,
rainy Europe,

and seeing Tangier glinting in the
distance, this promise of Africa.

For centuries, merchants
have crossed these waters

seeking the fantastic
riches of the African continent.

Tangier was founded
in the fifth century BC,

and has always attracted
adventurers, pirates and even spies.

It's where European merchants would
have encountered the flow of gold
from

the south for the first time.

And it's my first leg of the journey
on the original trade routes that

brought it all the way from
Timbuktu.

'This city is full of treasures,

'and in a small book shop I've found
a reproduction of the most important

'map of medieval times,
the Catalan atlas.

'It confirms Timbuktu's reputation
as the gold capital of Mali

'and of Africa.'

You can see, very clearly,

the king of the kingdom
of Mali sitting there,

on his throne with a great
big nugget of gold in his hand,

and a huge gold crown on his head.

This is Mansa Musa, king of Mali,

and stories of Timbuktu's fabled
gold began to spread

during his reign
in the 14th century.

Even today, he is said to be
the richest man in history.

There is an inscription on the
map...

"So abundant is the gold
found in his country,

"that he is the richest and most
noble king in the land."

800 years on, modern
gold traders still thrive here.

'I'm dying to touch the real thing
to find out why it was so prized.

'So I'm meeting an expert
in Moroccan antiquities.

'Much of the gold was used
to mint coins,

'and she has an ancient one
to show me.'

Here are some inscriptions saying

that it was from the Marinid
dynasty of the 15th century.

Gold came from the sub-Saharan
Africa through the
trans-Saharan trade.

And this is evidence of that,
it landed in Morocco.

Do you think this coin might have
come through Timbuktu?

Yes, of course, most likely it did
come from Timbuktu.

Yes. I would say that it was
probably the most important
crossroads for gold.

It's very exciting for me,
I feel like I'm touching history.

You are! Yes! You are touching
history.

It's in your hands.

I've got gold fever.

I can feel how its allure drew the
merchants of old to make the journey

south to Mali,
and the city of Timbuktu.

The roads they forged are the
very ones I'm going to travel, too.

This is going to be my Bible.

Absolutely invaluable.

It is a map of all the major trade
routes across the Sahara.

But I think the journey's
going to take some doing.

I think we're going to have a lot
of fun in the Atlas Mountains,

because that is a big,
big natural barrier.

And each of those mountains is three
times higher than Ben Nevis.

So it's quite a difficult thing
to get across.

And, of course, then,
that is all the Sahara Desert,
all the way along.

That is going to be another major
thing for us to cross.

And then the routes, all routes,
lead to Timbuktu.

'It's not difficult to see why
Timbuktu became a mecca
for gold traders.

'It was surrounded by gold mines.

'But the merchants
didn't just deal in gold.

'There was a huge trade in slaves,
leather goods,
ivory and also in salt.

'Back then it was the only way
to preserve food.

'It was almost as valuable as gold,

'and that's why many of these routes
were called salt roads.'

So, the gold went north,
and then the salt came south.

And they met in El Dorado,
they met in Timbuktu.

It makes perfect sense,
when you look at the map.

The next place I'm heading
on my desert odyssey is Fes.

Five hours' drive away,

it's where many merchants
started the long trek to Timbuktu.

To get to Fes, I'm going to use one
of Morocco's most popular forms of

transport, the grand taxi.

There's a taxi rank in every city,

with old Mercedes
going in all directions.

And it's one of the cheapest ways
to get around,

IF you know the tricks of the trade.

'First, you have to find one going
your way.

'Then you negotiate your fare.

'But if you can find another
traveller to share the back seat,

'you can split the fare.

'Having found a travel buddy
to share the cost,

'we're whisked out of town
towards the coast road.

'It turns out my fellow passenger,
Driss, is a trader himself.

'He's going to Fes to buy
artefacts to sell to tourists.'

Say you buy a dagger
for 150 dirhams.

Daggers for 150 dirhams, no.

How much would you sell it for?

Maybe a profit, five euros, maybe
a profit some day of ten euros.

Some days no profit.

That's my business.

And which country
spends the most money?

American people. Oh!
We love those dollars!

Profit. They have plenty
of grand bucks!

We're travelling south along
the Atlantic coast,

and I'm enjoying a comfortable
ride with Driss.

But on such a long journey,

it's customary to
pick up other passengers

along the way.

THEY SPEAK ARABIC

And just when I'm thinking
three's company...

It's getting a bit cosy in here.

I'm in here with two Drisses
and Akram.

'My fellow passengers make for
charming company on the long drive,

'and ahead of me lies a city with a
charm all of its own

'and a history of welcoming
travelling merchants
through its gates.'

Fes, the ancient capital of Morocco,
dating from the eighth century,

and the oldest of its
four imperial cities.

It's said to
be surrounded by springs,

providing travellers
with the supply of precious water.

And between the 8th
and 16th centuries,

Fes grew rich from the gold and
salt traffic coming
across the Sahara.

Its old medina, or walled city,

is the biggest pedestrian zone in
the world.

And it's full of narrow streets
where life remains seemingly

untouched by modern times.

Once traders finally got here from
Timbuktu,

they needed a sanctuary where they
could rest, wash,

feast and store their goods.

'They would stay in a caravanserai,
a motel with camel and mule
parking.'

So this is a caravanserai.

I guess you'd have put
your camel or your donkey

in these little rooms, in the past.

And then kipped down in your B & B.

The space is still occupied
by traders.

The building was last used
as a caravanserai
more than 80 years ago,

but there are tantalising bits
of evidence of its original use.

Upstairs was a safe place for weary
merchant travellers to rest,

luxurious in comparison
to where they'd been.

Berbers, Arabs and West Africans
all would have stayed together,

vying for the best traveller's tale.

The atmosphere here is absolutely
fantastic.

You can actually feel the history.

600 years old, relatively unchanged.

OK, it's different downstairs,

because that's where the animals
would have been,

and now there's trading goods,

but up here you've got little girls
sitting there drinking tea,

you've got their mothers
doing the washing.

It feels like I've gone back
in time.

'I've decided I'm going to bed down
here for the night to get a feel for

'what it was like centuries ago.'

Just a sleeping bag.

'I've brought with me some writings
from travellers and adventurers
who've

'trodden this perilous path
before me,

'to help bring these ancient
journeys to life.'

"It is more profitable and
advantageous for the trader

"to export his product to a distant
land,

"and take a dangerous route.

"In this way, the distance
and the risk incurred
will give a rare quality to

"his merchandise and thereby
increase its value.

"This is why the wealthiest
and the most prosperous merchants

"are those who dare to go."

I've just woken up. Five o'clock,
the alarm's gone off,

because I want to get up
and see the dawn rising over Fes,

and hear the call to prayer.

It's very, very, very cold.

But I think my first night in
a caravanserai, I would say,

it's not been at all bad.

Fes is known as the spiritual
capital of Morocco,

and Islam was first brought to the
country by the Arab invasion
in 682 AD.

It spread to the native Berber
tribes,

who went on to form
Islamic kingdoms.

CALL TO PRAYER

I always find the early-morning call
to prayer very moving.

Prayer is better than sleep, the
muezzin says,

in the Adhan al-Fajr, the dawn call.

The five calls a day frame
life in Morocco.

Hasten to prayer,
hasten to salvation.

Dawn reveals ancient tombs
left behind by the Marinid empire,

which flourished in the early
Middle Ages.

They shaped Fes's religious
and academic reputation.

The city has 14 theological schools
and the world's oldest university,

the Qarawiyyin, founded in the ninth
century by a woman, Fatima al-Fihri.

It's amazing to think that while
Europe was languishing
in the Dark Ages,

this was a centre of learning.

Philosophy, mathematics, religion
and law were all being taught here.

And then, years later,

all that knowledge went back across
the Mediterranean Sea, into Europe,

and informed the Renaissance.

There's an old Moroccan saying,

"manage with bread and butter
until God brings you honey".

Every neighbourhood has a communal
bread oven where people take their

dough to be baked, and it's hardly
changed since the Middle Ages.

'I'm meeting a friend at one of
them.'

Oh, my God!

How are you?

'Najat Kaanache is a Michelin-
starred chef,

'a Berber from the Moroccan
mountains.'

How are you? I'm good.

How does it make you feel?

The smell, it reminds me of home.

It reminds to childhood, for me.

Like, when I was little.

Yeah?

Look. Amazing.

Warm.

This, it just happens here.

Let me cut it. The power of bread.

Wow!

'Najat is one of the world's
top chefs.

'She worked in Spain's famous
elBulli restaurant.

'She's come back to Fes to open one
of her own.'

Look at all the sausages, dried.

That's like haggis. Look at this.

Beautiful.

'And she's bringing back the kind
of food that merchants
in the Middle Ages

'would have eaten, but with a modern
twist.'

Here we are!

This is the one.
OK. Here we go. Oh, my goodness.

Our friend Camel has a little grin
in the face.

Wow!

So this is... Look at the meat.

It's really super beautiful.

It's really, really lean.

You wouldn't think this.

You would not think
this meat is like that.

People think of a camel
being very dry, but, no...

It's very soft. Look at the fat.

Amazing, from the back.

Oh, my goodness.

It's very unique, this.

That is the camel hump?

Yes. Very, very unique.

'Apparently, camel's milk
was a popular drink
for trans-Saharan traders too.

'So, of course, I have to try it.'

Bismillah.

It's delicious.

It's absolutely delicious.

SHE SPEAKS ARABIC

It has medicine, people believe.

They have been using for
a long time.

The camel meat, camel fat,
camel belly.

It's medicinal.

And that
we're going to use like

the fat that you use
when you cook some meat.

It's going to get
a little brown, magically.

Yeah?

'And with two kilos of prime camel,

'it's off to Najat's newly opened
restaurant, Nur,

'to cook up a trans-Saharan feast.'

So, here we are.

Home sweet home. Very incognito!

Be careful. OK, thank you.

'It's my very own MasterChef.

'I'm helping Najat
to prepare today's special,

'camel meatballs.'

I thought it was going to smell
horrible...

No! But actually, it certainly
smells nice.

Now that we're doing this,
look here.

I have my fermenting...

er...camel milk,

that is already a week.

It smells... That smells...

But this is going to make
a beautiful, magical...

Oh, my God, look at your face!
Everything good smells horrible

at some point.
Yes. That's true.

Yes, or no? Even me.

Even human beings. So,

in the times of the great trade
across the Sahara from Africa
to Fes,

when the merchants arrived at Fes,
would they have a feast of camel?

Because that's a special meat,
isn't it?

I think camel was very important
in their menu, because it meant,

like, wealth, you know?

Now, you see people, they try
to buy camel, camel milk,

just for health benefits.

Still it's a little bit pricey.

But, in that time, it was festivity.

OK.

'Najat's ultramodern restaurant

'is one of several
springing up in the city

'catering to tourists and
the young, emerging middle class.'

I'm just going to try
one of these meatballs.

'With growing prosperity, Morocco
is evolving into a modern,

'global player,
and Fes, like most of its cities,

'is embracing the change whilst
still holding on to
its cultural history.'

Michelin-starred camel meatballs.

I'm leaving Fes
and heading for Marrakech,

'the other great terminus at the
northern end of the trans-Saharan
trade route.

'Both were places where merchants
gathered money, provisions
and goods

'for the long trek
south to Timbuktu.

'But I'm exchanging Fes's spiritual
calm for the buzz of Marrakech,

'where everything is for sale.'

The weather's really changed, so
it's time now for the winter
woollies.

It's very, very chilly.

'I was born in the '60s, so there's
only one way to go to Marrakech.

'And that's on the Marrakech
Express.'

MUSIC: Marrakesh Express
by Crosby, Stills and Nash

# Looking at the world
through the sunset in your eyes

# Travelling the train
through clear Moroccan skies... #

'Today the train isn't the
sun-filled hippie experience
of my imagination,

'just modern Moroccans
commuting between cities.

'It's an eight-hour train journey
to Marrakech,

'but for a trader in the Middle
Ages, it would have been
a gruelling trek,

'lasting several days.'

"The distance and the hardship
of the road they travel are great.

"They have to cross
a difficult desert

"that is made almost inaccessible
by fear and beset by thirst.

"Water is found there
only in a few well-known spots,

"to which caravan guides
lead the way.

"The distance of this ordeal
is braved only by very few people."

'The explorers of old
all say the same thing,

'that this was the toughest
of journeys.'

Marrakech - it's called the Rose
City, Daughter of the Desert,

and it's always been a place where
traders picked up

high-quality goods
to take with them on their journey.

It was founded in the 11th century
by the powerful Almoravid Berber
dynasty,

who made it the capital of a huge
empire stretching right through
North Africa

and into southern Spain.

50 miles to the east,
the Atlas Mountains provide
a spectacular backdrop.

Moroccan porridge.

Some of the most popular merchandise

on the trans-Saharan
trade routes were

leather goods. And some of the best-
quality leather was produced here at

Marrakech's oldest tannery.

It's as ancient
as the salt roads themselves.

And I'm surprised to find
it's still in full swing.

'Najib is one of the tannery's
oldest workers.

'He's been here for 48 years.'

This is a cow.

'It takes 20 days to turn an animal
hide into the leather used for the

'world-famous bags, shoes and belts
sold in the local markets.

'It's dirty work.'

I'm primed, ready for action.

OK, so this tank
is full of gypsum.

It smells totally
and utterly disgusting.

And I can't believe this guy's doing
it with his bare hands,

because I reckon this stuff burns.

'This potent cocktail
removes the hair from the hide.'

That actually comes off
really, really easily.

'But there's worse to come.'

Smells fantastic.

Excited to get in.

'Pigeon excrement contains ammonia,

'which acts as a softening agent to
make the hides more malleable.'

This is harder than it looks.

We're trampling on the animals
in, like,

a circle but I can't keep up
with them.

It's like being in a whirlpool.

A whirlpool of pigeon shit.

'Finally, we move the hides
into a vat of water for rinsing.

'Is this what would have been
happening 1,000 years ago?'

So, the process is exactly
the same, passed down
from father to son,

so basically what I'm doing now,

apart from the fact
I've got new waders on,

is the same exactly as they'd
have done in the 11th century.

This labour-intensive process
was a highly skilled craft,

which back then ensured the global
reputation of Moroccan leather.

And it's amazing that this tannery
is still providing
fine-quality hides

for the shoes, bags and belts in the
souks of Marrakech

and markets all over the world.

At night, Marrakech,
the party town, comes to life.

In the main square,
Jemaa el-Fnaa,

you're transported back in time
to a more exotic world.

The air is rife with hawkers' cries,
wandering minstrels and magicians.

You could end up with a monkey on
your shoulder or eating a bowl
of snails.

And I can't help noticing how many
more West African faces
there are here,

echoes of traders from the past who
would have arrived

from across the Sahara
with their wares.

But the performer who is attracting
the biggest crowd is offering
perhaps

the simplest and oldest form
of entertainment.

'Storytelling.'

This is the most interesting history
lesson in the history
of the world.

He's talking about the trans-Saharan
trade and about crossing the Sahara

and he's got this line
where he says,

"The sun was beating down from above
and the sun was burning up
from below.

"The camels were dying,
the men were dying,

"they were loaded with skins
and hides from the south,

"coming north and they were
searching for gold and for salt."

Many years ago, these stories would
have been the only way for people to

learn about life in faraway lands.

Now they're opening a door
into the past

for us and it's thrilling to hear

1,000 years of history, and the
journey I'm making, come alive.

In this magical world,

I feel like Timbuktu
could be just around the corner.

But I've still got 1,500 miles
to travel.

Time for me to get some sleep,

as North Africa's largest mountain
range awaits me.

For this next leg of my journey,

I've left Morocco's cities behind
me and I'm continuing on foot

through the Atlas Mountains.

They stretch right
across the country,

forming a massive natural barrier,
and climb to over 4,000 metres.

I'm no stranger
to endurance treks,

having completed the gruelling
Marathon Des Sables
across the Sahara and

run races through these mountains.

But this will be a different kind
of challenge,

as the snows have come early, making
it cold and treacherous underfoot.

Up here, it's Berber country.

There are around 14 million of them
in Morocco and many of them live in

these mountains.

I'm starting my trek in the Berber
village of Afra.

'In these villages, traditions
are part of everyday life.'

This lady's been explaining to me
about her henna.

So she... I asked if it was
for a wedding and she said no,

but apparently she just wanted
to look nice for her family,

so she went and got it done. And it
doesn't last as long as you think.

I thought it would last a couple of
weeks but she says it goes quickly

because, of course, she's working
hard here, using her hands.

'I'm meeting my friend Saaid Naanaa,
who's a mountain guide.'

Saaid, la bas! And you? Good!

'We've taken on these mountains
together before,
but never in the snow.'

OK, so...

'If anyone can get me across these
steep peaks in one piece, it's him.

'We're heading for Tizi n'Tichka,
the highest major pass
in North Africa,

'a gratifyingly tough
half-day hike away.

'Trans-Saharan merchants
would have made this journey by mule

'or, like us, on foot.'

How high are we up here?

We are here about 2,100 metres.

I can feel it already on my chest.

Yeah, me too. It's normal.
Really? Yeah.

'Up here, the air is thin, making it
harder to breathe, even for Saaid,

'who has spent most of his life here
in the mountains.'

Saaid, my friend? Yes.
You're a Berber?

Yes, I'm a Berber.

What does that mean?

Berber is... They say this is
a nickname given by the Romans

when they occupied
the north of Africa. Yeah.

But the original name is Amazighen.

It means free people or
noble people, if you want. Yeah.

'The Berbers, or Amazigha, are the
indigenous people of North Africa

'and can trace their heritage
back to 3000 BC.'

Does Berber have its own language?

The Berber, they have
their language,

which is totally different
than Arabic.

So, Arabic you write from right to
left and the Berber is the opposite,

from left to right, or you can write
like Chinese, down.

The weather is closing in,
which is worrying,

because the paths ahead are
getting seriously precarious.

You see, the path is going down
from here. Yeah.

Then you see that rock ledge. Whoa!

Then you go uphill to the path.

So we've done the easy bit. This is
the hard bit, isn't it? Yeah.

We've still got four miles to go and
the light will soon be disappearing.

SHE PANTS

I really like Saaid, but right
at the moment I actually hate him.

He's making me go fast
and we're uphill because
we're worried about the dark.

I don't really want to go
fast uphill, frankly.

He's all chirpy.
I'm not the least bit chirpy.

And how they ever did this with
donkeys and mules laden with goods -

totally beyond me.

It's zero degrees and plummeting
as the afternoon draws on

and I'm cold and wet.

Have we got long to go, Saaid?

Nearly. This is the Tichka Pass.

Yeah? And there we go. Good.
Nearly there.

Well done.
I'm beginning to feel it a bit.

'It's one last push to reach the top

'and we make the Tichka summit
just in the nick of time,

'before the bad weather
really rolls in.'

Is this it, Saaid?

We made it. Yeah, you did it.

Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Good job.

Well done.

We spend the night in
the tiny village of Tazga,

where we're lucky enough
to find rooms.

For the merchants centuries ago,

it might have meant
a cold night under canvas.

In the morning, with the toughest
part of this leg behind me,

I set off alone.

It's refreshing! Whew!

I'm following an old trade route
south along the Ounila Valley.

The mountains here are rich in
natural deposits - copper, silver,

iron ore and a commodity much
favoured by the traders - salt.

The salt mines marked on my map
are all in the desert,

so I didn't expect to find one
this far north.

The track is dusted with the stuff,

the first evidence I've come across

of why these routes
are named salt roads.

The place seems deserted,
but as if from nowhere,

someone arrives to open the mine up.

It looks pretty old and
I'm wondering whether it was around

in the days of the ancient
salt roads themselves.

One of the men, Zakaria Aboelkassem,

is a co-owner of the mine
and knows its history well.

Oh, wow.

Wow.

'Parts of the mine
date back to the 13th century,

'which puts it right at the peak
of trans-Saharan trade.'

ALICE LAUGHS

A flower of salt.

There were salt mines
all along the routes to Timbuktu.

Until paper money was introduced
by French colonisers

in the early 20th century,
it was used as a form of currency,

and it's where our word "salary"
comes from.

Some say that at the height of
the trade across the desert,

salt was as valuable as gold
by weight.

I feel like Indiana Jones. I've just
been down this incredible salt mine,

and this is where they'd have come,
the traders,

with their mules and their donkeys,

which they'd just brought
over that snowy pass,

and load up with the salt
to take to Timbuktu.

As I continue my journey southwards,

I'm finding evidence
all along the way

that travelling merchants
used this route.

It became known as
the Valley of the Kasbahs

because it's dotted with ancient
buildings where the traders stayed.

Proof of the sheer volume
of trade crossing the desert.

Kasbahs, like this beautiful one
in the small village of Tamatert,

were built by rich
and powerful families

as fortresses for themselves

but also for the many merchants
who passed through the area.

This is a fortified village,

absolutely typical along this route
where all the merchants travelled.

You've got every single thing
you would need in it for a stay -

somewhere to put your animals,
a water supply, a granary,

somewhere to store your goods and to
sleep, and also things like a mosque

and even in some of them
they had two cemeteries,

one for the Jews
and one for the Muslims,

in case you were unlucky enough
to die on the route.

But really the main reason that
the merchants wanted to come here...

..was for the kasbah.
The kasbah was the fortress,

and typically had four big towers,
one on each corner,

tiny little windows and each one of
those towers would have soldiers

guarding it. So once you got
yourself into a fortified area,

into a kasbah, you knew that
your goods were safe

and that you weren't going
to get robbed,

because there were a load of robbers
and thieves on this highway,

and the only downside,
I guess, is that, of course,

you had to pay for it. So the guy
who owned this would take a tax

and there were really quite
rich pickings from those caravans.

A safe and secure place to rest
for the night was something

sensible merchants
would gladly pay for.

After all, most were carrying
a precious cargo.

"Six days past, a nobleman arrived
here from Gago called Jordabasha.

"He brought with him 30 camels laden
with tibar, which is unrefined gold,

"also a great store of pepper,
unicorn horns

"and a great quantity of eunuchs,
dwarves and men and women slaves,

"besides 15 virgins."

This must have made extraordinary
reading for 16th-century Europeans.

Tales of this kind of cargo on
the salt roads would only have added

to Timbuktu's already glittering
reputation.

This morning, I've left
the Valley of the Kasbahs

and I'm heading into the mountains
and plains of the Jbel Saghro.

I'm trying to reach
the ancient city of Sijilmasa,

the great northern crossroads
of the old trade routes.

But first, I have to cross

some of the most barren terrain
in the world.

Jbel Saghro means
"mountains of drought".

This area of the Atlas gets
a mere 10cm of rain a year,

the same as parts of
the neighbouring Sahara Desert.

This landscape feels completely
prehistoric, it's so rugged,

it's so violent in some way
and yet it is completely beautiful,

and very, very few outsiders,

very, very few Westerners
get to come here,

so it's unchanged.

I have some help to navigate
this vast territory.

This is home to the Ait Atta tribe
of Berber nomads,

who for centuries have guided
traders across these mountains.

I'm lucky enough to count one of the
last surviving nomad families

as friends.

I was saying I can see the whole
family waiting for me.

Alice, la vas. La vas!

THEY SPEAK ARABIC

'Zaid is the head of
a large family.

'He and his wife, Izza,
have six children,

'including a little one, Brahim,
who I haven't met before.

'Zaid's mother, Aisha, is 77.'

Mama.

'Berbers venerate their elders
and she commands a certain respect.'

Zaid and his family have 250 goats,
which are the main source of income.

To find grazing for them,
they have to keep on the move.

Every day in summer,

they pack up the tent they live in
and all their belongings

to find new pastures.

All the family,
young and old, help out.

Traversing this rocky landscape
is no mean feat

with all the animals, goods
and people in tow.

We have six miles to cover
before we stop for the night

and there are few paths
or landmarks to navigate by.

Their knowledge of the area made
these Berber tribes invaluable

to the merchants, who needed to get
their goods across the terrain.

Centuries ago, these Berbers
were doing exactly this.

They were transporting goods
across these treacherous mountains,

down these difficult paths
that they know so well,

and still today it's the Berbers,
with their mules and donkeys,

who get things to
the very remote villages

that aren't accessible by vehicle.
So nothing has changed.

Zaid's family come from
the Ait Atta tribe of Berbers,

whose history dates back to before
the arrival of Arabs and Islam

in the seventh century.

At the height of
trans-Saharan trade,

they were the leading Berber tribe.

But now, nomad numbers
are dwindling.

So Zaid's just been telling me
about how he came into this life

and his father was a nomad
before him.

And his father used to migrate
between here and Ait Bougmez,

which is a three-week trek,
and he did that all his life.

Then when he got older
and a bit more tired,

he bought a very small piece of land
down in the valley

and Zaid is carrying on
the tradition with his family,

which he will pass on
to his sons, probably.

After five hours, our entourage
finally comes to a halt.

It doesn't look much to my eye,

but this is going to be home
for the night.

But first, there's some work to do.

The first thing the women did when
they got into camp was to go and

collect the kind of dry scrub

and then they've just put
it straight onto the fire

because it burns immediately and
they put the tea on, first thing.

This is an azib, left behind by
other nomads passing through.

Experienced hands quickly turn
the tumbledown walls into

a robust enclosure and shelter.

Once the goatherd tent is up,
it's time to think about dinner.

With typical Berber hospitality,

they're preparing a meal
in my honour,

and with no supermarket for miles,
there's only one thing on the menu.

Fahid and Zaid...the two Zaids
are taking a goat up here to kill it

for a celebration for my arrival,
and of course for me

it's really difficult to watch
an animal being killed,

even though I do eat meat,
so I'm not looking forward to this

but I have to do it,
so I'm going to.

GOAT CRIES

SLICING

It's hard to watch,
but it's a great honour.

Goats represent the family's wealth,
so it's a big deal to eat one.

They immediately set to work
to skin the carcass.

As night falls in
the Jbel Saghro mountains,

Zaid is preparing skewers

to put the best bits of goat
on the open fire.

Nothing of this animal
will be wasted.

He's just cutting up the heart.

Got the livers cooking already

and the kidneys are somewhere
in the middle.

The smell of the meat and Izza's
bread cooking on the fire

is making everybody hungry
after a long and active day.

But I'm not sure whether hearts,
livers and kidneys are going to be

as much of a treat for me
as they clearly are for them.

Tastes really, really good.

Salty and really savoury
but it's a little bit crunchy.

BOTH: Mmm!

By 8:30, I'm ready for bed.

The family all sleep together
under rugs and blankets in the tent,

much as their ancestors
would have done,

and I'm bedding down with them.

THEY LAUGH

It's just after six in the morning
and everyone's starting to wake up.

The mother's got up
and has put on the fire.

The kids are awake.

I'm beginning to get a feel for what
the caravans must have been like,

loading up the animals,
unloading them,

living in a big tent all together,

eating together and everyone having
their job to do and doing it quickly

and efficiently as they can,

but I still haven't experienced
the burning sands of the desert

and I'm beginning to look forward to
that because it's been so cold.

The morning fire takes a little
chill off the mountain air

and the hot, sweet tea
helps as well.

THEY SPEAK ARABIC

Zaid's just telling me that life
here in the mountains is too hard,

that it's too cold, that every day
packing up the tent,

putting up the tent, trying to
find food for the animals,

the children always,
always being cold,

the children getting sick
because there's no medicines here,

that it's too much and what he
really wants within the next ten
years is to settle in the village

and what he wants for his children
is that they go to school

and that they get jobs,
things like drivers.

Which of course,
to us seems, you know,

it's such a romantic lifestyle,
this, when you see it,

when you see the family
all together,

when you see how happy they are,

when you see how hard
they're working.

But having spent the night under
canvas, it is absolutely freezing

and seeing how hard they have
to work even to get a fire going,

it makes you think,
would you want to do this?

And I have to say, the answer
is no, I wouldn't. It is too hard.

So I can completely understand

why he would want something
different for his children.

It's sad to say goodbye to
Zaid and his family.

There are few nomads left in these
mountains, and in a few years' time,

this way of life may have
disappeared altogether.

I'm leaving the rocky mountain
terrain of the Jbel Saghro

and travelling east.

100 miles away is
my next destination, Sijilmasa,

an ancient city which was a mecca
for trans-Saharan traders due to its

position on the edge of the Sahara.

Strangely, it's not marked
on any modern maps,

but I do know that it's next to
the modern town of Rissani.

Rissani seems typical of
so many towns in Morocco.

A bustling market
in the centre of town

and a lot of new houses
going up on the outskirts.

And so far, there's nothing
to give me a clue

as to where
the ancient city might be.

It's proving very difficult to find
- no signs, no blue plaques

and at the moment
I'm in what appears to be

a great big building site.

Then, something begins to show
itself above the skyline.

A vast, lost city in the sand.

Sijilmasa was founded
at the end of the eighth century

and became the most important city

on the trade routes
north of the Sahara.

Its position on the northern edge
of the desert meant

it could control the gold supply
coming up from the south.

It boasted a mosque, a palace

and probably barracks for soldiers.

And on its fringes, a huge oasis

meant there was one thing
in abundance - water,

a lifeline for travellers

arriving after a gruelling journey
through the desert.

'I've arranged to meet Chloe Capel,
a French archaeologist

'and one of very few
who have worked on this site.'

It's about 2km long,

800 metres wide and there are so
many things to know about it.

It's not done, not yet.

There's lots of work for
archaeologists here on this site.

The site has remained
a well-kept secret

and no-one has excavated here
for several years.

There are still pieces of history
lying all over the place.

Here, as you can see...

..there is a lid. Uh-huh?

You take it this way
on the top of a...

a cup or a little jar, something
like that, and it's medieval.

How do you know? Because of
the shape, because of the paste.

Maybe it's 12th century
or 14th century.

And it's just lying here
on the site?

It's everywhere, all around you,
on the 2km wide of the site. Wow.

And if I were here at the height
of the trans-Saharan trade,

what would I have seen?

Probably a very rich city
with many houses,

gardens, numerous gardens,

because medieval texts tell us
that there were many gardens

inside the city and it was
spectacular for travellers

because they were just emerging
from the desert

and they found this oasis,
it was impressive for them.

The oasis was large enough to cater
not only for the townsfolk

but visiting traders
and caravans too.

And Chloe believes
it was planned that way,

to attract the burgeoning
trans-Saharan traffic of the time.

People, travellers,
merchants were aware that

when you stop in Sijilmasa,

whenever you stop here, whenever it
is in the season, you can find food,

water, camels, numerous
camels to travel, dates, fodder,

everything to be sure to go safe
until Timbuktu,

until the sub-Saharan Africa.

It seems to me that in its way, this
was the Timbuktu of the north,

a vital refuelling stop
for traders coming out of

or heading into the Sahara.

How sad, then, that this great city

was destroyed in the early 19th
century by invading Berber nomads.

In fact, the same tribe as the nomad
family I've just stayed with.

It's less than a mile back into the
centre of Rissani and I'm travelling

in the way of most traders here,
by donkey cart.

We park up at the town's answer
to pay and display.

SHE SPEAKS ARABIC

In Rissani's bustling market,

you can buy just about anything and
there are stalls laden with the same

fresh produce that would have
gladdened the hearts of weary desert

travellers of the Middle Ages.

Hafida? Hi! Hey! How are you?
I'm good.

'I've come here
to meet Hafida H'douban,

'Morocco's first-ever
female trekking guide.'

Are you looking for some dates?

'Hafida's taking me on the next,
most dangerous leg of the journey,

'into the Sahara Desert, and she's
stocking up with provisions.'

Taste it, if it's OK.

That's nice? Yeah.

I think the best one is that,
so I will take from there.

'Dates were a staple food for
people crossing the Sahara.

'They say you can survive
on just seven a day

'and their high-sugar content
means they last for ages.'

Very energetic and very nice

and now we are lucky
because it's a time for the dates.

Perfect! It's for this year,
it's the new one,

because in October we have dates.

Yeah. So it's OK.

Tomorrow, Hafida and I will be
embarking on the most challenging
part of my journey so far,

one which many a trans-Saharan
trader didn't survive.

Next time,

we trek into 3.5 million
square miles of desert...

..and some of the most extreme
temperatures on the planet -

the great Sahara.

It was incredibly perilous.

This is why the goods, when they got
to the other end, cost so much,

it was the danger factor.

Modern life takes an ugly turn...

My security contingent
has got extremely nervous

and they won't let me go
any further.

..and I finally make it to
the city of my dreams, Timbuktu.

Now I get it, my first glimpse of
the icon of Timbuktu.