In Ramadan, Morocco earthquake victims drown in rain and no aid

In Morocco‘s Atlas Mountains, heavy rains have turned earthquake survivors’ camps into pools of mud, flooding their makeshift shelters at a time when they were supposed to be already living in the promised state-built houses.

Since 9 March, intense downpours have battered the North African country, flooding streets and damaging power grids in small towns and villages already struggling with fragile infrastructure.

However, in the Atlas Mountains, the impact has been particularly dire.  

For a year and a half, residents of Talat N’Yaacoub, a village hit hard by the 6.8-magnitude quake, have lived in tents meant to last only weeks.

Now, those shelters are collapsing under the weight of water and wind. Inside, families huddle together, wrapping themselves in damp blankets, praying for a miracle: the long-awaited aid to finally arrive.

“The tents are no longer liveable […] Water seeps inside, the mud rises up, and we have nothing to keep warm”, said Halima, a mother of three who lost her house in the 2023 earthquake.

Like many others, she had hoped that by now, reconstruction would be well underway.

Instead, the government’s 12-billion-dollar recovery programme remains tangled in bureaucracy, and most survivors say they are still waiting for the aid they were promised.  

State’s promised aid for earthquake’s victims delayed

After the earthquake, the Moroccan government pledged 140,000 (about $14,000) dirhams for families whose homes were completely destroyed and 80,000 (about $8,000) dirhams for those with partial damage.

Yet, according to local activists, many have received far less.

The state claims progress—57,000 building permits granted, 35,000 homes under construction—but in the highlands of Al-Haouz province, the gap between those figures and reality is stark.  

“Most families, regardless of how much they lost, are only receiving the minimum amount”, said Hussein Ait Mahdi, a member of the Al-Haouz Earthquake Victims group.

Transporting materials into remote villages is another barrier. A single truckload of supplies can cost up to 4,000 (about $400) dirhams—an expense that eats into already limited funds.  

Ait Mahdi further claims that local officials have manipulated beneficiary lists, excluding orphans and other vulnerable groups.  

His brother, Said Ait Mahdi, who leads the earthquake victims’ coordination group, had long voiced such concerns. On 4 March, he was sentenced to a year in prison for defamation and publishing false allegations—charges his supporters say were retaliation for exposing government failures.  

Despite his trial, the group and the affected community remain determined to push for an investigation into the alleged mismanagement of funds.  

Last December, Morocco‘s Interior Ministry launched an investigation into allegations of corruption in aid distribution.

One official and several entrepreneurs have since been convicted, including a businessman sentenced in February to three years in prison for defrauding families.  

However, for those still in the camps, there’s no time for political statements and promised investigations– they want an immediate solution.

Ramadan in tents and under heavy rain

In Talat N’Yaacoub, 100 km away from Marrakech, rain has turned the ground into thick mud, soaking bedding and the few belongings families managed to salvage from their destroyed homes.  

The most vulnerable—children, the elderly, pregnant women—suffer the most. The nearest health centres are kilometres away, and with roads in poor condition, even minor illnesses can become life-threatening.  

Also, lighting a fire inside the tents for warmth is too risky.

“We’ve seen tents turn into death traps. We would rather endure the cold than take that risk,” said one woman as she prepares with her neighbours a pot of soup outside before iftar.

For the second year in a row, Ramadan has arrived under these conditions. Where the holy month should bring comfort, shared meals and family gatherings, it now feels like another burden, as families struggle with a lack of cooking and comfort facilities.  

The slow pace of reconstruction has sparked growing frustration in the Moroccan parliament. Opposition lawmakers are accusing the government of neglect, arguing that its priorities lie elsewhere. 

“Today, we are talking about building world-class stadiums for the World Cup. And yet, 18 months after the earthquake, entire families are still living in tents. How can we accept this?” Fatima Al-Tamani, an MP from the Democratic Left Federation, told local media.

Morocco is set to co-host the 2030 World Cup with Spain and Portugal. The contrast between the gleaming infrastructure projects in Rabat and Marrakech and the crumbling camps in the Atlas Mountains—known locally as “the forgotten Morocco“—has become a frequent topic of political debate and café discussions.

TNA reached out to Morocco‘s Minister of National Territory Planning and Housing for comment but received no response by the time of publication.