A Clash Over a Piece of Moroccan Tranquillity
By AIDA ALAMI
ASILAH, Morocco — A few kilometers south of Tangier, near the port town
of Asilah, lies the wide golden beach of Sidi Mghait. It is a peaceful
place, overlooked by the simple farmhouse of a peasant family, a
luxurious modern villa built by a wealthy European businessman, and a
small mosque, the burial place of a Muslim holy man who gave the place
its name.
Appearances here are deceptive. The beach and its hinterland are the
focus of a 10-year clash over land, rights and cultures that has been
chronicled in a documentary, “Hercule Contre Hermès,” by Mohamed Ulad, a
French film director and producer who was born in Morocco.
The film, 72 minutes long and shot over three years, lingers over the
rhythms of a pastoral life: water drawn by hand from the farmhouse well;
a field tilled by a wooden donkey plough; fish netted, gutted and
grilled over a fire; bread baked in a wood-fired clay oven; tourists
playing in the surf or eating in a reed-covered restaurant shack that
the family builds and runs every summer on the beach. There is the
wedding of the farmer’s oldest daughter, and a trip by his oldest son to
see a girlfriend in Spain and to visit his married sister in Brussels.
But the film also shows a way of life under threat from development:
Former neighbors gather at the mosque, grumbling that they have been
cajoled, pressured or tricked into selling their land; a track to the
beach is churned into mud by earth-moving vehicles; beach dunes are
bulldozed and rolled flat; the farmer’s wife, summoned by the police,
must answer a complaint about land access, one of many, filed by her
wealthy neighbor; the family’s lawyer argues over payment, then refuses
further assistance.
The protagonist of Mr. Ulad’s film is Mohamed El Mektiri, known to his
friends as Hercules because of his physical strength. He is the oldest
of eight children of Mrait El Mektiri, a farmer.
“If he hits someone with his big hands, he could kill,” a local taxi
driver said, describing how Mohamed, who has become famous in the
neighborhood for protecting his family in adversity, came by his
nickname.
Mr. Mektiri’s adversary, omnipresent but unseen in the documentary, is
Patrick Guerrand-Hermès, a sports entrepreneur, real estate developer
and former president of the International Polo Federation who, since
arriving in Sidi Mghait over 10 years ago, has acquired, parcel by
parcel, all the land surrounding the Mektiri farm. Mr. Guerrand is a
grandson and heir of Émile-Maurice Hermès, who headed the Paris fashion
house Hermès for decades until his death in 1951. Mr. Guerrand’s mother,
a Hermès, married Jean-René Guerrand, and several of her children added
Hermès to their name.
Mr. Guerrand met with Mr. Ulad last year in Paris and gave his
conditional agreement to participate in the film but later changed his
mind, saying that the film was exploiting the Hermès name for commercial
purposes, Mr. Ulad said in an interview.
“I thought he was a very charming man,” Mr. Ulad recalled. “He insisted
on talking to me about the charity he was doing in the region. But he
refused to comment on what he is accused of.”
In the film, and in separate interviews, critics of Mr. Guerrand accuse
him of running an electric power line across a neighbor’s property
without his consent, taking sand from a public beach to build a polo
field, and misappropriating communal water resources.
For example, Mr. Guerrand “took sand from one part of the beach that
belongs to the state and used it to build his polo field,” Rachid
Chebihi, the provincial director of the High Commission for Water and
Forests in Tangier, said in an interview, adding that court proceedings
over the matter had been pending since early this year. Mr. Guerrand met with a reporter to discuss this article but declined to
make any comment on the record. In a subsequent e-mail, however, he
described Mr. Ulad’s film as a “documentary (or fiction?),” dealing with
a “non-event.”
The documentary was broadcast on the Moroccan television channel 2M on
Oct. 14 after a court rejected a bid by Mr. Guerrand to block it — the
last move in a battle of lawsuits and countersuits that accompanied the
making of the film. It has also been optioned by the French and German
network Arte, and Al Jazeera. Dates for showings have not been set.
Mr. Ulad said he had made the film to explore how state power, through
the law and the police, allied itself with wealth and privilege rather
than with the idea of protecting ordinary people.
The filmmaker, who is the partner of Mazarine Pingeot — the daughter of
François Mitterrand, the late French president — lives in Paris. He was
born in Asilah and returns there every summer for vacation with family
and friends. For years, he said, one of the rituals of summer life had
been to eat at the Mektiri family’s beach restaurant at Sidi Mghait.
“One summer, Hercules wasn’t around,” he said, using Mr. Mektiri’s
nickname. “When I asked, people told me he was in jail.”
It was 2008: According to the family, police officers had come to the
farm saying they were investigating a complaint by the family’s wealthy
neighbor, and ransacked the property.
“They destroyed my oven,” the farmer’s wife, Rachida Mektiri, says in
the documentary. “They destroyed the stables. They threw everything
out.”
When Mr. Mektiri defended his mother, who challenged the search, they
were arrested. They were sentenced to six months and two months in
prison, respectively, for assaulting an officer.
It was this, and the way the family was treated even by its own lawyer, Mr. Ulad said, that led him to make the film.
“My father had a physically damaging accident when I was younger and his
lawyer betrayed him and allowed the other party to get away without
paying anything,” he said. “Since, I have been obsessed with the
question of injustice.”
Speaking of Mr. Mektiri, he said: “I see myself in him a lot. We come
from the same place, and we both have strong-willed, imposing mothers.
Then, when all the legal problems started with the movie, I felt like I
was going through the same thing the family was going through.”
Of Mr. Guerrand’s unseen presence in the film, he said: “Hermès as a
person, whatever his behavior, never interested me. I think he is
revealing of many dysfunctions and is a mirror of the way the Moroccan
administration works.”
“There are many dimensions to this story,” he added. “What I expect from
European investors is to help us get out of a corrupt system, not use
it for their own business interests.”
For now, the legal jousting has ended: The Mektiri family remains on its
land, and means to stay there. Selling and moving away has never been
an option, Mrs. Mektiri said in an interview.
“My children were born here,” she said. “They earn a living here. Why
would I ever want to move to the city? The money from selling won’t last
forever and the family will fall apart. I will never sell.”
Read the article on the New York Times' website.
Read the article on the New York Times' website.