Once upon a time there was a Spanish enclave deep in the southwest of Morocco – Sidi Ifni. Nothing new there, as the Spanish flag still flutters today above Ceuta and Melilla on Morocco’s northern coast. But Sidi Ifni is somewhat different – above all it’s no longer Spanish. Its protectorate status ended in 1969 when the last privileged colonials hurriedly boarded planes to abandon their beloved Santa Cruz de la Mar Pequeña, as it was then called. What they left behind was unique – a showcase of Art Deco architecture sandwiched between the Sahara, the Anti-Atlas mountains and the Atlantic ocean.
“The edge of civilisation”
When we arrived after a monotonous coast road from Agadir followed by endless bends through barren hills, it was hardly what I had expected. I’ve been to this north African country a few times – and counting. You can read more about my southern Moroccan forays here, about kasbah hotels here, about the incredible Islamic library of Tamegroute here, and about Amazigh (Berber) cooking in Souss-Massa here.
Very little has been written about Ifni (the ‘Sidi’, meaning lord, is optional) – a few blogs, including one about the semi-ruinous state of the Spanish architectural legacy (now much improved). Yet another, written by the American rock musician David Lowery, paints a very Paul Bowles-ian picture of what he calls “the edge of civilisation”.
Annoyingly he gives no date, but I guess it was in the 1980s as he describes access by dirt-road and his haircut reflects that decade. More telling is his evocative reminiscence: “we drank wine, slept off hangovers lethargy decay and forgotten loves.” Poetic, decadent, stirring stuff – I just had to go there.
Which side of Ifni to stay – modern or Art Deco?
So the sight of a well-planned Moroccan town was a surprise. It turned out that this modern section had expanded inland after the Spanish left, linked to the colonial enclave high on a clifftop. And yes, for decades that lofty quarter had remained abandoned, its façades peeling in the hot sun and salty winds while all economic attention focused on the fishing port to the south. Now thriving, its a hub for canned sardines. But that’s not what you go to Ifni for.
Unfortunately I picked the wrong guest-house so we found ourselves in the ’new’ town hosted by a languid French woman and her 16-year old son who appeared to do all the hard graft. We would find him behind his computer in the lobby, morning and night, an informal receptionist while doing his home-schooling. His mother would materialise to serve breakfast – admittedly good – in the garden.
Rock on
But for those on a budget the coolest place to stay is undoubtedly Suerte Loca (meaning ‘wild luck’ in Spanish). One of Ifni’s Art Deco landmarks, this hotel stands just above the beach and was in fact Ifni’s first, opened in 1934 by a Spanish family. Now with almost mythical status, it was also where the above-mentioned rock musician stayed – and I wish we had too. Earlier still, in 1973, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin stayed there while on the hippie trail and were inspired to write the legendary song ‘Kashmir”.
More upscale is the Logis La Marine, right beside the seafront promenade so with the sound of surf to lull you to sleep. Belgian-owned, it’s chic, friendly and comfortable with echoes of its original role as the Spanish naval HQ.
Toasting Ifni – a surprise in Morocco
Evenings can be spent at a beach bar where, unusually for Morocco, beer and wine are available – at a price. Here you watch kids somersault on the sand or dripping surfers emerge from the waves and, later, spectacular sunsets painting the sky.
High above, in the streets lined with blue and white buildings of striking geometric forms, we found the excellent Nomad Restaurant where we feasted on luscious fish soup and Atlantic lobster. We had to sneak in our own wine as the owner had recently been fined for serving alcohol but was happy to turn a blind eye. Outside on the large, oval-shaped Place Hassan II, women and children gathered until darkness, although the men stuck obstinately to their cafés.
Art Deco splendour in Morocco
Before that, at sunset, the terraces of this upper town filled with Berber women who came to watch gorgeous sunsets dissolve into the Atlantic waves in a riot of orange and purple. Over the horizon lie the Canary Islands, source of Ifni’s founders in 1476 when it became a fishing, slaving & trading town before the vicissitudes of intervening centuries changed its political status.
Today little can beat the atmosphere of this 1930s showpiece and luckily recent conservation efforts have restored much of it. That’s quite a volte face in view of Morocco’s justified attitude to its colonial past. For many years it just turned its back on such a blatant reminder of foreign rule.
One reminder of that Spanish heyday is a nightclub, the Twist Club – though its doors closed long ago and it is now visibly dilapidated. Apparently the owner, a certain Maria, refused to leave with the 1969 colonial exodus and eventually died in her beloved Ifni. Nearby looms another Art Deco hotel, the Belle Vue, and, around the corner, an attractive little lighthouse.
Other surviving buildings include the former Spanish consulate (now derelict), a hospital, the naval headquarters, a former cathedral, the Town Hall and the royal palace – once the governor-general’s residence. There’s even an old cinema, Cine Avenida which apparently still functions occasionally.
End of the high life
This time-capsule echoes the days of a homogeneous society when Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together, allegedly in harmony. Not surprisingly, the lucky Spaniards who lived here adored the location, climate and lifestyle, and even after their exodus to the homeland would make annual pilgrimages to relive their riotous youth. There are several videos on YouTube of their nostalgic returns, sprinkled with photos of yesteryear.
The Spanish departure was precipitated in 1957 when, following the independence of Morocco from France, armed Moroccan insurgents set their sights on Ifni along with other garrisons in the Spanish Sahara. For eight months repeated assaults and an abortive siege led to Franco’s troops killing some 1,000 Moroccans. It’s a hazy period, little known about, in fact dubbed ‘la Guerra Olvidada’ (the Forgotten War) in Spain. From Franco’s nationalistic point of view, it was better wiped from the history books.
Eat fresh Moroccan fish – then inspect dromedaries in Guelmim
Back to today and this upbeat little town of 20,000 or so inhabitants seems to be on a roll. You can head to the souk in the new town to pick up the odd handicraft or sit outside at the fish market to devour ultra-fresh barbecued fish – a steal. Surfers have discovered its waves and cheap living, too, while in winter, an army of French camper-vans settle in behind the beach – sadly less picturesque.
An hour’s drive away you really feel the proximity of the Sahara if, on a Saturday morning, you head for Guelmim‘s dromedary market. Here, among bleating goats and sheep, those noble hump-backed creatures lure Tuareg and Sahrawi people from the desert. Snapped up for a fat wad of dirhams, the groaning beasts are then trucked away to another life – or end up in a tagine.
Just beyond Guelmim unfolds the Western Sahara, a disputed territory ever since 1975 when what was then the Spanish Sahara was carved up between Morocco and Mauritania. Still wrangled over to this day, only about one fifth of the territory is controlled by the Sahrawi, the original inhabitants of mixed Amazigh (Berber), Arab and black African descent. Their ongoing struggle for independence is just another forgotten story of this remote, yet beguiling corner of western Africa.
2025 addendum: Morocco now holds political control over the Western Sahara, although over the border in Algeria the Sahrawi fight on for independence.
