Tree of Hope

THE GOATS IN THE TREES ARE A problem. Travel southwest from swan Morocco's vibrant, blood-red city of Marrakesh and you might find them: these shaggy, piebald beasts roosting at improbable heights and chewing all the tender shoots, leaves and fruit in sight.

The goats' food of choice is the endangered argan tree, native only to the southwestern region of Morocco. One of the few plants that can grow in the hot, arid climate, the argan is an environmental marvel: Its deep roots hold the sandy soil fast, preventing the land from crumbling into desert. Its wood provides high-quality charcoal. Most important, its seeds yield an oil famed for its rich flavor and medicinal properties.

But unfortunately, goats like the tree just as much as their two-legged caretakers do. Wherever they snack, the animals leave a path of broken and bald branches in their wake, making overgrazing a large factor in the steady deforestation of the argan forest region.

Luckily, the tree has found a staunch advocate in Zoubida Charrouf, a chemistry professor at Universite Mohammed V in Morocco's capital, Rabat. For Charrouf, protecting the tree and using its resources sensibly will not only kick-start southwest Morocco's economy and preserve its ecosystem, but also better the lives of women throughout the region. That's why she's helped form five argan oil cooperatives in the area-all staffed and run entirely by women.

Women living in rural Morocco, including the argan forest region, face both ethnic and gender discrimination. The majority of argan forest inhabitants are descended from the indigenous Amazigh people of North Africa, known collectively as the Imazighen, or as Berber-a term considered pejorative by the Imazighen themselves. The Imazighen speak dialects of the language they call Tamazight, maintain distinct cultures and tend to live outside the country's northern areas or large cities.

Female illiteracy in Morocco, which stands overall at 64 percent, soars to nearly 90 percent in the countryside. That's because Amazigh women, living in the poorer and more traditional rural areas of the country, are far less able to be educated, or even to work. That's one reason argan oil has proved so important to them: Extracting the oil remains one of their few viable job options.

The argan is a cantankerous, thorny tree with a fruit that clings tenaciously to the pit.

But the result is prized for its cosmetic and culinary uses. Drizzled over couscous, tagines (stews) or greens, the copper-colored oil has an intense, toasted-nut flavor and a slightly spicy finish. It's as wonderful to eat as it is difficult to extract.

Intrigued by Amazigh claims of the liquid's health and nutritional properties, Charrouf decided to conduct chemical research on the oil in the early 1990s. What she found corroborated traditional wisdom: The substance is packed with vitamin E and unsaturated fatty acids that can lower cholesterol, reduce wrinkles and juvenile acne, and speed healing of abrasions.
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Charrouf's findings renewed interest in the argan tree, as did the decision by UNESCO in the late 1990s to declare the endangered argan forest area a biosphere reserve. Conservationists, development agencies and entrepreneurs all sought ways to protect the tree and spark growth in the local economy.

In the beginning, things didn't go quite as planned. Local women couldn't deliver a high-end product-their homemade oil was often packaged in leftover plastic bottles and sold on the side of the road or in local souqs, or marketplaces. Meanwhile, farmers collected all the argan stones available, and then throttled the trees to get more fruit. The trees drooped; the local economy remained relatively stagnant.
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Versatile argan oil is used to dress salads, heal cuts, lower cholesterol and reduce wrinkles.

Charrouf decided to found cooperatives to tackle the problems head on-and start employing the disenfranchised Amazigh women who had discovered argan oil's benefits to begin with. The cooperatives now employ approximately 800 women full- and part-time, many of them poor, widowed or divorced, and all of them Amazigh. The majority of the women work at cracking the stones; for that, they are paid an average of $100 a month and receive a share in the cooperatives' profits. In contrast, a woman making argan oil on her own earns no more than $20 or $30 monthly. Also, Amazigh women don't traditionally sell goods themselves, so without the co-op they're dependent on male relatives to sell the oil and bring back all the money earned.

To ensure the quality of the product, Charrouf replaced much of the traditional extraction methods with a mechanized process that extended the oil's shelf life from six months to two years. Women still crack the stones, because no machine can match their dexterity.

On the conservation front, each of Charrouf's workers plants 10 new argan trees a year. Most significantly, as the region's economic growth is increasingly tied to the argan, villagers have become much more reluctant to let their goats graze in the trees.

Business is booming. In addition, the Amal cooperative in Tamanar received the International Slow Food Award for Biodiversity in 2001. Drawn by increasing press coverage, 100 tourists descend upon the Amal cooperative each day, buying edible oil and cosmetics products. In response to increased demand, Charrouf recently grouped the cooperatives under one umbrella organization in order to standardize their operating and accounting systems and to expand their bargaining power.

In light of the cooperatives' overall success, it's hard to believe that Charrouf ever faced any resistance. But at the beginning, men scoffed at the notion that she could realize her plans and that local women were capable of running co-ops. Even more threatening was the notion that the researcher was "emancipating 'our' women, making them leave the home," Charrouf says. But as the men saw the economic benefit of the cooperatives, they began to accept the women workers-and even to respect them. Rather than tearing the fabric of the community apart, the cooperatives have created jobs and removed the need for urban migration.

Besides offering women jobs and paying them a decent wage, Charrouf offers classes in reading and arithmetic. That impacts their children as well, because once they realize the value of education, women are much more likely to send their kids to school. As one Tamanar worker says, "My life has really changed. It used to be that I could never leave the house. Today, I am earning an income and can send my children to school."

Like women in similar economic coops around the world that produce shea and nut oils, cocoa butters or mineralrich salts, the Moroccan workers are part of a global revolution. As they bond with one another-"together they share their problems, their laughter," says Charrouf-they also help lead their people out of poverty, environmental degradation and gender inequity.

-NOY THRUPKAEW

Additional reporting: J. Patrick Gaffney, Anas Roudies and Aaron Morales