Rubble and Grief: Morocco’s High Atlas Marks One Year Since Record Earthquake

The rhythms of normal life have somewhat resumed in some of the province’s larger towns - The AP
The rhythms of normal life have somewhat resumed in some of the province’s larger towns - The AP
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Rubble and Grief: Morocco’s High Atlas Marks One Year Since Record Earthquake

The rhythms of normal life have somewhat resumed in some of the province’s larger towns - The AP
The rhythms of normal life have somewhat resumed in some of the province’s larger towns - The AP

The rescue crews and bystanders are long gone but the remnants of homes still sit in piles off to the side of the jagged roads.

A year after nearly 3,000 people died when a record earthquake shook communities throughout Morocco's High Atlas, it still looks like a bomb just went off in villages like Imi N'tala, where dozens of residents died after a chunk of mountainside cracked off and flattened the majority of buildings.

Broken bricks, bent rods of rebar and pieces of kitchen floors remain but have been swept into neater piles alongside plastic tents where the displaced now live. Some await funds to reconstruct their homes. Others await approval of their blueprints.

The region shaken by the earthquake is full of impoverished agricultural villages like Imi N’tala, accessible only via bumpy, unmaintained roads. Associated Press reporters revisited half a dozen of them last week ahead of the first anniversary.

In some places, residents who say they're awaiting governmental action have begun reconstructing buildings on an ad hoc basis. Elsewhere, people tired of the stuffiness of plastic tents have moved back into their cracked homes or decamped to larger cities, abandoning their old lives.

Streets have been neatly swept in towns like Amizmiz and Moulay Brahim, although cracked buildings and piles of rubble remain, much as they were in the days after the quake.

The rhythms of normal life have somewhat resumed in some of the province’s larger towns, where rebuilding efforts on roads, homes, schools and businesses are underway and some residents have been provided metal container homes. But many of those displaced from the more than 55,000 homes destroyed by the temblor remain vulnerable to summer’s heat and winter’s cold, living in plastic tents, impatient to return.

Mohamed Soumer, a 69-year-old retiree who lost his son in last year's earthquake, is angry because local authorities have forbidden him from rebuilding his home on the same steep mountainside due to safety concerns. He now spends his days with his wife in a plastic tent near his now-rubbled home and fears moving elsewhere and restarting his life in a larger, more expensive area.

“Residents want to stay here because they have land where they grow vegetables to make a living,” he said. “If they go somewhere else and abandon this place, they will not be able to live there.”

The government early on promised households monthly stipends in the aftermath of the earthquake and additional funds for seismically safe reconstruction. It said last week that both had been provided to the majority of eligible families and households.

“Specific solutions are being deployed on the ground for difficult cases,” Morocco's Prime Minister's Office said in a statement.

But on the ground, its disbursal has been uneven, residents say, with many still waiting for funds or reconstruction to commence.

Anger has mounted against local authorities in towns like Amizmiz and villages like Talat N'Yaqoub, where residents have protested against their living conditions. They have criticized the slow pace of reconstruction and demanded more investment in social services and infrastructure, which has long gone neglected in contrast with Morocco's urban centers and coastline.

Officials have said rebuilding will cost 120 billion dirhams ($12 billion) and take about five years. The government has rebuilt some stretches of rural roads, health centers and schools but last week the commission tasked with reconstruction acknowledged the need to speed up some home rebuilding.



Gaza Teacher Offers Ray of Hope with Classroom in Rubble

Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
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Gaza Teacher Offers Ray of Hope with Classroom in Rubble

Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights
Palestinian teacher Israa Abu Mustafa, who set up a classroom tent on the rubble of her house to educate children, poses for a photo, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, September 4, 2024. REUTERS/Hatem Khaled/File Photo Purchase Licensing Rights

Gaza's schools lie in ruins or have been turned into shelters for families displaced by a war that has killed tens of thousands. Yet teacher Israa Abu Mustafa refuses to let death and destruction deprive traumatised children of an education.

After a four-storey building containing her home was demolished by an Israeli air strike, Abu Mustafa set up a classroom on the rubble under a tent.

Her impromptu school is one of the few remaining options for children in her neighbourhood.

"During the war, we had to fill water gallons and collect sticks for firewood. Then Miss Israa found us and brought us here to continue learning," Reuters quoted 10-year-old Hala Abu Mustafa as saying.

The project began with 35 pupils and that number gradually increased to 70, ranging from pre-school to sixth graders aged 11-12.

Since the war began on Oct. 7, schools have been bombed or turned into shelters for displaced people, leaving Gaza's estimated 625,000 school-aged children unable to attend classes.

According to the Palestinian Ministry of Education, at least 10,490 school and university students have been killed in the Israeli offensive. More than 500 school teachers and university educators have also been killed.

Israel says it goes to great lengths to avoid civilian casualties and accuses Hamas of using human shields and operating from schools, an allegation the group denies.

Abu Mustafa's lessons go beyond just a curriculum. Her classes provide a sense of structure and routine in the chaos.

The tent is far from a traditional classroom where children once dreamed of one day studying abroad or becoming doctors and engineers who help the people of Gaza, which was impoverished and suffered from high unemployment long before the war erupted.

"We need chairs and tables so the children can learn properly instead of being forced to write on the ground," the 29-year-old teacher said.

With limited resources, Abu Mustafa teaches basic lessons including religious studies, trying to keep her students engaged despite the relentless bombardment.

Gaza and the Israeli-occupied West Bank have internationally high literacy levels, and the under-resourced education system was a rare source of hope and pride among Palestinians.

"What could be the child's wish? They have the right to learn in a safe environment, they have the right to play in safe place, to not feel any fear," Abu Mustafa said.