Bere a mununkum fi soro hwe ase no

10.03.23 Fes - Quezzane What can't fall from the sky? Water as rain or frozen as snow. We often experience that. For the American UFO writer Morris K. Jessup, it always rains when residents living in tanks above the ground empty their apartment. No joke, he was serious about that! Or stones - as meteorites. That happens every day too. The atmosphere protects us from smaller projectiles. Larger chunks zoom through, and such a chunk was probably the reason why the Gauls lived in fear of the sky falling on their heads. We know this from Asterix and Obelix.

I prefer it when clouds fall from the sky. Yes, that exists too. I have experienced it sometimes in the Bavarian Forest. It is often mistaken for fog, but there are differences. They were beautiful to see this morning on our drive from Fes to Quezzane: You feel like you are driving through a fog bank and suddenly, a curve later, there is glorious sunshine, clear sky. You look up and see cloud fragments hanging above you, so close that you believe you can grab them with your hands. The landscape around you is bathed in a soft light that makes trees, bushes, even rocks appear delicate and round. A touch of magic is in the air. Images appear, disappear, nothing is clear and yet everything is there.

At the beginning of our journey, I would have preferred dense fog. We passed through an area where dead livestock lay in the roadside ditch. Cattle, cows, sheep with their bodies torn open and wild dogs feeding on the carcasses. I had never seen that in Morocco before today.

But soon the scenery changed. We immersed ourselves in fields of wheat, corn, barley, millet, and rice, so vast that their beginning and end were not discernible to the naked eye. And in the middle, somehow lost, three little men walking side by side equipped with spray bottles and buckets, moving at a slow pace. In contrast, there are small freshly plowed fields that promise abundant harvest with their dark brown soil. In front of them, a young boy sits and absentmindedly breaks small twigs from a stick. How old could he be? Eleven? Twelve? It is shortly after 10 o'clock. Normally, he should be in school now. Maybe he doesn't go to school at all? What goes on in his mind? What dreams does he have? What will the future bring for him? What can it bring for him, here in Morocco, in a small village consisting largely of a collection of dented corrugated metal huts? The dreams must not be big - no, that's not true! The dreams must be big because only then can they give you the strength to make them come true. To make your dreams come true, only you can do that.

That was also my first question to Renate and Volker in the motorhome with the number nine, completing our group of participants. The two have been on the road with a tent, caravan, and now a motorhome for more than 40 years. "My big dream has always been the family," says the 66-year-old without hesitation. This wish came true for him with Renate, who gave him a daughter 32 years ago. Debora is now a mother of three herself, and the grandchildren are the pride and joy of Grandpa Volker. "He takes them to school, picks them up - he is always there for them," says Renate, who is 64 years old and was not only a draughtswoman but also managed entire construction sites.

Family is a big concept for the two of them. Heiko and Michaela are also at the top of the list. The children of Volker's older brother Gerd - who is also in Morocco with his Ute - are part of the family, just like their own daughter. They go on vacation together, call each other, and meet in the small but nice town of Waldstetten in the district of Schwäbisch Gmünd and - very important - eat together a lot. "Yes, we attach great importance to that," emphasizes Volker, who worked as a sales manager for an automotive industry supplier. You can also see that here in Morocco: not a day goes by without Renate and Volker, as well as Ute and Gerd, cooking or sizzling together. Their two motorhomes are parked side by side, with the entrances facing each other, tables and chairs set up, and not even 15 minutes later, a tempting smell wafts across the campsite.

Perhaps the families have come to appreciate this in Italy, where they have been guests for at least once a year for 45 years, rarely alone, often with the brother, his children, the daughter, or the grandchildren. With the family, in short. Morocco is the second trip with the Europa motorhome friends for Renate and Volker. They were already in Sardinia in 2019 and now dared to venture into Morocco as well. "These weeks have been very impressive for us," says Volker, and Renate adds, "That's true, but when you see this poverty here and know how we live in luxury, it makes me thoughtful." Like almost everyone in our group...