Morocco's cannabis farmers celebrate freedom after royal pardon

In Morocco's Rif Mountains, the mood is full of celebration after the country's monarch “pardoned” nearly 5,000 cannabis farmers – a plant that was once strictly banned in the Muslim state.

For four years, Abdelalli, a cannabis farmer near Chefchaouen in northern Morocco, lived as a refugee in his hometown. Now he is free, able to reunite with his family, meet his daughter and take care of the plant that has become both the pride and the curse of his region.

“I spent nights in the woods or with friends. The police were looking for me, so I couldn't see my family regularly,” said Abdelalli, a 36-year-old cannabis farmer. the new Arab.

Due to his situation, Abdelalli was unable to complete administrative procedures that required personal contact with authorities, including renewing his ID card or officially registering Nora as his daughter.

“Nora is three and barely knows me. But now I have all the time to make up for the years when I couldn't be her father,” Abdelalli added, smiling at the picture of his daughter in his wallet.

In May 2021, the Moroccan parliament ended six decades of cannabis criminalization, passing a law legalizing the plant for pharmaceutical and industrial purposes, with the aim of exploiting the country's cannabis potential, estimated at $15 billion. Morocco has maintained a strict ban on production for recreational use, mainly because of religious opposition to smoking the plant.

However, farmers who had already been arrested or wanted in connection with cannabis cultivation continued to live in an illegal situation.

Three years after legalization, Moroccan King Mohammed VI has “pardoned 4,831 people convicted, prosecuted or wanted in cases related to cannabis cultivation,” the Ministry of Justice announced on August 19.

“A new chapter with Rabat”

Unlike Abdelalli, other cannabis farmers were caught on the run, either because they were careless or because they decided that one last hot meal with their family was better than spending the rest of their lives in hiding.

Ahmed, a 27-year-old cannabis farmer, was one of them. “All my brothers went to the city, but I decided to stay and take care of my mother and the land my father left us,” he said.

He was convicted just months before legalization and has since spent nearly four years in a local prison, reminiscing about his misspent youth – and he continues to do so after his release.

“It is unfair what happened to us. We were never criminals. We are farmers. We are just trying to protect our land,” Ahmed said in an angry voice.

His mother, still crying with joy and sorrow, seemed more hopeful and patient than her son. “Our generation has suffered too, perhaps even more. But this release is the result of years of struggle and perseverance. It is a victory for the Rif,” said Amna, the cannabis farmer's mother.

In most houses in the Rif Mountains, the atmosphere is similar: many tears, gratitude to the king and a retreat from criticism of the state under the pretext of starting a new chapter of trust and friendship with Rabat.

The attacks against cannabis farmers before legalization always had a political dimension.

In the Rif region, an Amazigh region that is considered home to rebels and outspoken oppositionists, there is no escaping the political tensions between the population and “Rabat”. The fact that in the past farmers' crops have been repeatedly burned and protesters demanding social justice have been arrested has not exactly improved the situation.

However, Rabat has expressed its intention to make amends, even if it takes longer than many young people in the region would like.

“The situation was shameful because these Moroccans felt they were not full citizens,” said Moroccan MP Noureddin Medyan.

“[The pardon] sends a clear signal to those who want to understand it: to close the chapter of the past with the Rif and begin a new one,” added the MP.