On my very first day at High Atlas Foundation (HAF), I had the privilege of visiting several of their project sites. I had read about participatory development before arriving at HAF, but seeing it materialize in the form of tree nurseries, women's cooperatives, and temporary classrooms made the concept feel considerably less abstract. I think what made this day even more memorable were all the ways my senses were stimulated. 

The sense of taste. The figs grown at the nursery whose name translated to “The House of Life” were the sweetest I’ve had. The traditional breakfast made by the women at the carpentry tasted like warmth, if it ever had a taste. The canary melon at the local Monday market—in a town also called Ourika Monday in the local language—despite not being too juicy, had the most refreshing candied taste. What all these foods had in common was that they were made possible by resources that HAF had helped communities access: most importantly, water that had previously been absent or inaccessible, but also the spaces and opportunities that allowed women, many of whom had lost their homes and kitchens following the 2023 earthquake, to once again create, work, and share with their communities. 

The sense of touch. Whether it was the hard wooden tools used to brush the sheep's wool for carpet-making or the intricately woven handbags made by the women at the literacy workshop in the temporary classrooms that are soon to be replaced by actual classrooms thanks to the foundation, I got to touch and feel the beautiful craft of many women. What struck me was that these were not simply objects produced for the sake of a development project; they were skills, livelihoods, and forms of knowledge, often traditional, being sustained by the women themselves. 

The senses of smell and sound. The heat from the sun seemed to have a specific smell, whether that of what you would imagine to be burned, brittle yellow grass or of overheated sand; and the sound of the cricking insects and chirping birds kept you grounded in the peaceful yet lively reality of the villages. The sound of the little girls laughing in the temporary classrooms was likely the most unforgettable moment of this day. It was very inspiring to learn HAF’s role in creating these safe spaces for the women and young girls in these communities. 

And finally, the sense of sight. The breathtaking mountains, ochre buildings, and herds of goats leaping reminded me how grateful I was to be there and share those moments with community members. 

Before this visit, I might have thought of a tree nursery, a literacy classroom, or a women's cooperative as individual development projects. Seeing them within the communities they serve made me realize how interconnected they are: water enables agriculture, agriculture supports livelihoods, livelihoods create greater economic agency, and safe educational spaces give young girls room to imagine futures beyond the immediate circumstances around them. And so in retrospect, and surprisingly in only a day’s worth of community visits, I can confidently say that while I arrived at HAF knowing the language of development: participation, empowerment, resilience, livelihoods, or even circular economies, I left the villages having experienced some of those ideas through the people, places, sounds, tastes, and textures that gave them meaning.