Morocco: where has all the water gone?

Alice Morrison will be speaking for our Inspiring People talks programme 30th Sept- 3rd Oct.

By Alice Morrison, adventurer and broadcaster 

Two years ago, I built a snowman with my neighbours in the Amazigh (Berber) compound I live in, in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco. This year, no snow came at all. We waited all through the winter and there was only the lightest dusting, all of it at above 2,300m. Then in March, two days of rain and snow on the peaks, but still far too little. We are the water basin for Marrakech and the surrounding regions, and if we don’t have enough water then nor will they. 

Morocco has been in a state of drought officially for six years, but this is the worst year I have seen for rainfall since I moved here in 2014. Government figures show there has been a 67% reduction compared with an average year. 

Building a snowman.

Bathtime blues 

Officials in our region, which includes Marrakech, have acted to try and mitigate the imminent water shortages by shutting hammams (communal bath houses), car washes and even nail salons for part of the week. 

This does little to alleviate the pressure on water resources which are consumed primarily by agriculture. It uses well over 80% of Morocco’s water. Agriculture is at the heart of Morocco, and of course food security and the money gained from export are crucial. The sector also provides high employment (31%) and keeps workers and life alive in the rural areas. 

Positive power 

Morocco is a leader in Africa with regards to renewable energy at a macro and micro level. Xlinks is developing a project to produce solar and wind power in Morocco and transmit it to the UK via undersea cables. If it comes off it will be one of the biggest energy investments on the continent: $20 billion, 3,800km of underwater cable, and 10.5 gigawatts of solar and wind power. 

The use of solar power is very widespread with small farmers too, like my friend Lhou, who has taken out a bank loan to buy panels to power his well. 

But Morocco has not yet been able to mimic that success with water resources. The government is trying, though. A huge new desalination plant in Casablanca to provide potable water is underway, with eight further plants planned along the coastline and a series of new dams to be built between important water basins. 

Drip irrigation is also being heavily subsidised and promoted to farmers. This gives 90% of water to the plants, as opposed to the 40–50% of normal irrigation. The huge caveat is that the farmers’ use of water overall must be reduced or they will deplete supplies more quickly. Naturally, this is a hard sell to rural landowners who want to use the saved water to grow more. 

Catastrophic temperatures 

The situation gets even more dire as you go south into the true Sahel. The tragic truth is that climate warming has an exponentially worse effect at the extremes. If you live at 45°C, the shift to 50°C can be catastrophic. The Sahel is drying out and can no longer sustain the nomads and herdsmen that used to live there, grazing their camels and sheep on the scrubby desert plants of the region. 

This has led to massive social change. The nomadic way of life is dying out and people are forced into the cities, where water is supplied. In turn, there is a knock-on effect for migration as economic migrants head north, hoping for a better future. 

Sahara crossing 

I witnessed all this when I crossed Morocco and the Sahara in 2020 on foot with six camels (including my favourite, Hamish) and three Amazigh guides. In the north, we could sustain ourselves with water from streams in the mountains and then wells. As we walked south, the water dried out. 

We followed a route from well to well and sometimes it took us two weeks to get to the next one. We had to rely on the generosity of the nomads we met for the times in between. They have adapted cleverly by using giant plastic water containers which they fill from water trucks brought out from the cities. They also buy feed for their animals which is subsidised by the government. 

We never left a nomad tent empty even when their supplies were running low, and if they had plenty, they would let us water the camels. 

This pool of rainwater was deep in the dunes

The kindness of strangers 

One day will stay forever in my mind. A Sahrawi (Saharan) called Mohammed drove up to us in his ancient Land Rover, partially held together by string. He opened his water store for us and our camels drank thirstily. Then, out of the blur of the sandstorm, dozens of camels came trotting towards us. They had heard his engine and knew it meant water. 

Living in Morocco, I am forced to watch this part of the planet drying out and I wonder how much of this community and culture will be left in twenty years or fifty years. Or whether life will be sustainable across this part of Africa at all? 

When I come back to Scotland and my feet squelch down my parents’ garden I feel incredible relief. That water anxiety lifts and my eyes feast themselves on green grass and an abundance of flowers. 

There has to be a change. Morocco and the Sahel are suffering for the sins of others. Russia, USA and China are the worst offenders according to the Climate Change Index, whereas Morocco is number nine of the best actors. Unless there is a global shift, the future for my beautiful valley of Imlil looks bleak.