Guest Farm
Welcome to the farm of the Chafor’s Son
A life project in the Bled, a rural area, in Bengamoud, the Douar where my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins originally lived…
A need to return to childhood, to rediscover our childlike perspective in our adult lives. To contribute to the development of our native Douar. A decisive homeland that evokes the magic of childhood memories and the imprint they leave on our lives.
In the 1950s, my father brought the very first car to the Douar, hence his nickname Chafor (Driver). At the time, it was a white Peugeot 404, later a VW Combi, a vehicle that became emblematic of the Douar, useful and very practical for transportation.
As a child in the 1960s, from the age of 7, I often spent my school holidays in the douar, usually at my aunt Mbarka’s (Amti Mbarka) with her son, my cousin Baa Lhoucine, an emblematic figure, better known among us by (Labass Bikhir), or near the douar, on my parents’ farm. Every summer was a new adventure. On the first mornings of July, I often woke up excited at Amti Mbarka’s, knowing that the day would be full of adventures, so I quickly got ready and headed to the kitchen (Aariche), where the enticing smell of freshly baked bread and succulent cracked corn soup (Gourchane) hung in the air.
On my parents’ farm, there was fresh air and freedom. This farm, simply fenced with prickly pear trees, was an enchanting place surrounded by other equally green farms. Extracting water from wells needed for irrigating crops or watering livestock was done by animal traction (Cow), (Well at Delou), or (Aloukaf), an operation that I loved to do three times a week with my cousins, between 4 and 7 a.m., the time when a delicious breakfast arrived to be enjoyed.
Unforgettable memories…
(Quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)
We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.
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