Tasgaoudrar
The people who came from the mountains
The sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink that dance across the surface of the Atlantic. I'm perched on a weathered wooden stool at a nameless café in Taghazout, Morocco, watching the day's last surfers catch their final waves. The air is thick with the scent of mint tea and grilled sardines, mingling with the salt spray carried on the breeze.
There's something different here, an energy that hums beneath your feet and whispers in your ear. It's the kind of place that makes you believe in magic – not the rabbit-out-of-a-hat BS, but the real deal.
The kind that changes you.
Taghazout isn't alone in this. There are a few places in the world that have a different type of energy. Bali comes to mind. If you've ever been to Santa Fe in New Mexico, you know what I'm talking about. These places are far and few between, but ever so often, you witness them for a few hours, a few days, or forever.
The cluster of houses spreading from Taghazout to Tamraght house less than 13,000 full-time residents, but it's a magnet for visitors who flock here for world-class food and waves. It's a haven for artists, musicians, and surfers. As soon as you drive north of Agadir, you can sense creativity in the air. The Taghazout area is the birthplace of many projects that have since toured the world, often inspired by the Amazigh, a culture as old as the land itself.
"Do you want another one?"
I look to my right, question marks replace my natural facial expressions.
"Another coffee. I'm about to order."
The voice belongs to Ayoub Abouizza, a transplant from Casablanca, but you'd never know it. Taghazout has a way of adopting people, folding them into its tapestry until they're as much a part of the landscape as the worldclass righthand points that bless the area.
If you've followed our chapters, you'll recognize the name. We've teamed up with Ayoub in the past to explore the complex history of Taghazout and beyond through his eyes.
Usually operating behind the scenes, connecting locals with passersby and capturing the journeys of many pro surfers who make it to the North African kingdom, Ayoub has been working on his first short film, "Tasgaoudrar" - a next-to-no budget project that has been in the making for a few years, enduring through a global pandemic.
The project faced its share of challenges: permits, COVID-19, and people backing out at the last minute. Filming took place at nearby secret spots, where the team captured two days of excellent surf despite police patrolling the area and closed beaches.
But that's Taghazout for you. Nothing comes easy, but when it comes...
Ayoub's eyes are bloodshot, his hair a mess of salt and sand. He's been editing for days, fueled by nothing but coffee and stubborn determination. "It's done," he says, sliding his laptop across the table.
The screen flickers to life, and suddenly, we're not in the café anymore. We're in the heart of Morocco.
A young Berber boy stands at the edge of the sea, his father's fishing net heavy in his hands. The waves call to him in a language older than words. This is "Tasgaoudrar" - the story of the people who came from the mountains.
The results? They're stunning.
Ayoub didn't just make a film. He carved a piece of Taghazout's soul and put it on screen. No voice-over telling you what to think, no manufactured drama. Just the brutal beauty of Morocco's coastline and the silent struggle of a boy trying to find his place in a world that's changing faster than the tides.
Duct Tape Theory presents a glimpse into a world most of us will never know, brought to life by a guy who makes things happen - one way or another…
Follow our Taghazout escapades here
