Abdellatif picked us up from Marrakech early on a Saturday morning. A 24 year old Berber man from the desert, he seemed very polite and softly spoken. At least at first. Then he realised we were fun. He gave us Arabic names (me: Jamila, Liesl: Saaida) and sang Arabic pop music very, very loudly. By the time we reached our hotel in Dades Gorge and had danced on our terrace to Bryan Adams songs he played from his phone, we knew we were going to be friends with him forever.
The next day he drove us to Merzouga, not far from the border with Algeria. From here we rode camels into the Sahara in moonlight so bright we cast shadows on the dunes. We spent the night in a Berber camp and woke before the sun.