North Africa 1942-43

A recent article in the Wall Street Journal titled Speed Dating of the Moroccan Berbers in North Africa brought to mind my experience during the Second World War, and of the photographs of the Berbers (Arabs) taken during that time, 60 years ago. I had long forgotten about that legend which is still practiced today.

Each year hundreds of marriageable Berbers would gather for a three-day ritual at a mountain village. This unique matrimonial ritual has been practiced among these nomadic tribes for centuries. Some would travel great distances through narrow mountain passes to trade goods but especially to find love.

For the Berbers, love resides in the liver, not in the heart as we Westerners fantasize. And so, when a hormone laden, young Berber fellow thinks that he has spotted the “Love of His Life,” he will whisper to her, “You have captured My Liver!”

Well, perhaps he is carrying a sheep over his shoulder, and she has loftier ambitions than living as the wife of a goat and sheepherder. So, she then turns him down, perhaps not too gently, because he yells back at her, “You have burned my liver!”

Of course, the young Berber lass pertly saunters farther into the village looking for a more prosperous prospect.

It indeed would be interesting to know the statistics about the enduring regret or happiness from such spontaneous life decisions made by them, compared to marriages arranged by their parents.

A brief review of the history of these people surprised me when I realized that the first contact that we Americans had with the Berbers was in 1800. Thomas Jefferson had sent the marines to the coast of Tripoli to eliminate the Barbary Pirates. The Berbers still inhabit the Tripoli Tania Area in Libya, North Africa.

In 1956, the Arab Berbers revolted against the French, who had colonized them for many years. I suspect that they are not particularly fond of us Americans today either. However, the Berber style “Dating Game” still goes on.

I took the following photographs of Berbers in North Africa mostly around the city of Oran, in 1942. The Vichy French governed this area at the time of the Allied invasion.

	A group of prosperous looking Berbers on the streets of Oran. Any one of them would surely make a prospective bride's liver quiver.

		A group of Berbers. They seemed to be a bit happier, but would not make it to the top of the desirable husbands list.

		This poor fellow was sound asleep in his open retail store. It was a slow day for the sale of kindling wood.

	This fellow enjoyed posing for me on and off his donkey. This was accomplished with sign language. It was very unfortunate that we could not understand each other, because he seemed so very anxious to converse with me.

	Typical street scene in the city of Oran. The woman bearing the basket on her head hastened to cover her face. The western-style dressed man is obviously a French man. The streets had few automobiles because of the lack of available gasoline.

	This is a snapshot taken from my Jeep as we passed on a bridge. “G I” humor had it that the local Berbermen always had their wives walk in front of them at a distance to clear possible land mines.

	The one of the left holding the stick is blind. He is being lead by his partner holding his left arm. He also carried the alms bucket.