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REVELATIONS
CONCERNING THE COUP D'ÉTAT ATTEMPTS IN MOROCCO
(Published in the French magazine "Le Liberal", Nov.1973)
Together with Oufkir, the
lieutenant of the Moroccan Royal Forces, Ahmed Rami, prepured a
series of attempts on the life of Hassan II of which the last was
the machine-gunning while in flight of the king's Boeing. on the
16th of August 1972. The former alde-de-camp of Oufklr, Ahmed
Rami, escaped from Morocco where he is under sentence of death. A
refugee In Sweden, he lives in Stockholm where he told about his
extra ordinary adventure.
Prior to being one of the
most promising and outstanding officers In the Military Royal
Academy, he was one of the leaders of the Union Nationale des
Forces Populaires (UNFP), created by Ben Barka. A young teacher of
the Mohamed V senior secondary school in Casablanca, Ahmed Rami
became an officer In an attempt to destroy the monarchy. It was
with this aim that he accepted the post of aide-de-camp to general
Oufkir. Here follows his account and his startling revelations
concerning Skhlrat and the death of Oufkir:
I was born in the village of
Aït Mar in Tafraoute, in the province of Agadir. I belong to
the Tahala tribe.
My grandfather was the chief of the Aït Rami tribe. Aït Rami means "the family of the shooter". Before being colonized by France the royal power had no influence on our region where the tribal leaders were the law makers and fought amongst themselves. In 1935, the men of Tafraoute made a last struggle against the French soldiers who beat them at Alt Abdala.
My father, who was a simple land worker, went to look for work in Casablanca and left my mother and the five children In the village. While still quite young, I helped my mother to cultivate the difficult soil of Tafraoute. My chief task was to take pebbles from the fields in order to make it easier for the plough to pass through the soil, a simple wooden plough hardened by fire. We were so poor that I was sent away from the mosque by the "Fquih", the village teacher of the Coran, because I did not give him the customary present.
After the pacification ended, the French built a school a few kilometres from my village. The women in my village refused to send their children to the school fearing that their children would be stolen from them. And so my mother sent me to Casablanca. My arrival in this city was somewhere between 1950 and 1952. I spoke only the Berber language. I was lucky enough to find a job as a general assistant in a grocer's where I was fed and given accomodation. I slept on the floor in front of the shop counter. Two years later I was delivering newspapers and milk in the Racine quarter, an area inhabited by the French. In 1952, I went on strike to protest about the assassination of a Tunisian leader. During 1955, in Casablanca, incidents of revolt and rebellion amongst Moroccan nationalists were on the increase. I did not want to remain inactive and so with a bottle of petrol I burned a car. This fire which I had lit in the district burned for a long time during the night. I had become a freedom fighter.
At the end of 1955, like all other Moroccans, I was awaiting the return of the Sultan. The French police forces knowing that they would soon leave the country, left the way open to resistance organizations. Anarchy prevailed in Casablanca. My grocer's shop was robbed by three thugs who threatened me with a revolver.
After the declaration of independence, I became a street salesman of shirts for a Jewish business man whose daughter, who was the same age as me, taught me French.
In 1958, I returned to my village and went to the school in Tafraoute. Studying al night by the light of a candle, I obtained my certificate of studies, in Arabic and in French. Two years later, after some time spent at Tiznlt secondary school, I began studies at the Ecole Normale Sup~rieure in Casablanca. Disappointed by this independence which had put the people under the yoke of a feudal monarchy, I joined the UNFP created by Ben Barka, and I quickly became one of its leaders. After making a revolutionary speech at a meeting of the opposition, I was arrested and kept in prison for five days at Casablanca central police station.
In June 1963, I graduated from the Ecole Normale Superieure as a secondary school teacher. Appointed as a teacher of history and geography at a senior secondary school for girls in Casablanca, I was also teaching French and Arabic at the Mohamed V senIor secondary school. On 23 March 1965, a student demonstration brought about a riot in Casablanca. Our main enemy Oufklr, the minister of the Interior, was directing the repressive control aboard a helicopter. The army shot at the demonstrators. The dead numbered about 400.
The next day1 police in
civilian clothing arrested me at the Ecole normale. They put
handcuffs on me, blindfolded me and took me in a car to a deserted
place far from the noise of the town. For four days and four
nights they tortured me using electricity. A week later I was
freed.
"I chose to be an
officer in order to bring about an effective
revolution"
I realized how ineffective my struggle was. 400 of my friends had paid with their lives in their opposition to the feudal regime. I decided to enter the army and to become an officer. As a leader of a division of soldiers I would be more dangerous and more useful than simply campaigning with empty-handed students. The normal pathway to a military career of an officer goes through the Royal Military Academy in Meknès. I enrolled there In the autumn of 1965, and a few days later Ben Barka was arrested in central Paris. The disappearance of Morocco's leading freedom fighter confirmed me in my destiny: to enter the system in order to destroy it.
At the Military Academy, I discovered that I required the agreement of the Ministry of national education in order to undertake a military career. Permission was refused and for a year I continued working at my school with great Impatience. At the end of the academic year, I tried once more to be granted entry to the officers school. I went to see Ahrdan, the minister for National Defence, but with no success.
And so I went to the Royal Palace where I asked for an Interview with the director of the royal military staff. I succeeded in convincing him of my serious vocational intentions regarding a military career. Six years later the general who granted me entry to the Military Academy organized, along with colonel Ababou, the Skhirat attempt. When he saw me at the Royal Palace, had the general guessed that I was a revolutionary? I often asked myself this question after Skhirat where I arrived at the front of my tank brigade a few minutes after his death.
For two years I had been the
model training officer which allowed me to be elected president of
the magazine of the Royal Academy. In 1968, I was
an officer cadet. During my
time in Meknès my
only fault had been to refuse along with all of my friends to
undertake a night march. As a punishment for this act of rebellion
we were transferred to Ahermoumou to the school of
non-commissioned officers~ called the Cadets of
the royal army. Lieutenant colonel Ababou was in charge of the
school. For a second time destiny brought me into contact with one
of the men who was going to distinguish himself In the struggle
against the monarchy. Unfortunately, neither colonel Ababou nor
general Madbouh informed me of the Skhlrat plot.
My first meeting
with Oufkir
On 10 July 1971, the two above-mentioned officers leading the cadets of the Ahermoumou school besieged Skhirat. Miraculously the King and Oufkir escaped death. General Madbouh was killed. Colonel Ababou was executed the next day. A bloody purge decimated the army.
On this day, the 10 July, I was in my officers' room at the Moulay Ismail camp in Rabat. As commander of an armoured tank division engaged in the protection of the Royal Palace I was awaiting the opportunity which would soon perhaps be given to me to take part in overthrowing the monarchy. I was engrossed In my reading of "How to bring about a coup d'Etat" when the supervising officer, captain Mazour, arrived half-crazed, and informed me that a state of alert had been announced. I quickly put on my uniform, gathered my men together and ordered them to get into their EBR tanks. It was 3 p m. I had the metal door of the ammunitions depot broken down in order to equip the 17 tanks which formed my unit.
Just when leaving the camp I caught sight of lieutenant colonel Saâad, chief of staff of the armoured tank division. He was accompanied by Abaroudi, commander of the Royal Marines. Their clothes were torn and spattered with blood stains. In their state of panic they shouted to me: "The Royal Palace has been attacked by civilians armed with rocket guns and mortars. There are many casualities. Advance towards the Palace! Go by the main road and shoot at anyone who Is armed!"
Leading my line of tanks with my turret door open I left the camp. I was glad at the thought that civilians had dared to attack the sanctuary of the despot but was ashamed at having remained inactive while my country's fate was perhaps being decided.
Having fully decided not to obey orders and to lend a powerful hand to the rebels I decided to progress towards the Palace by the coastal road. By taking this unfortunate decision I in fact saved the king. While my line of tanks was progressing along the coastal road the trucks filled with lieutenant colonel Ababou's cadets were coming back from Skhirat by the main road. If I had taken that route, I would have met up with the rebel soldiers and with the support of my 17 tanks the failed attempt at Skhlrat could easily have been transformed into a victory.
During that summer afternoon the approaches to the coastal road were filled with people looking and walking who came in front of my tanks. Did they already know that a tragedy had ended at the Royal Palace?
I reached Skhirat by a small bridge at the end of which five policemen were diverting the traffic. Churning up the green lawns of the golf course, my line of tanks came to rest in front of the Palace. I gave the order to stop and I lumped to the ground. I made my way to the main entrance where there was a group of excited men. Amongst them I noticed the king accompanied by Oufklr and the generals Bachir and Driss Ben Omar. The arrival of 17 tanks had clearly not been expected. The ambulances. the wounded and the dead, and the panic which prevailed did not take away my calm. I went up to this group. "Where have you come from, lieutenant?", Hassan II asked me. "From Moulay Ismail camp", I said. I added:
"Where is general Gharbaoul ?", curious to know what had become of the commander of the tank division.
"He has been wounded", Oufkir replied. Oufkir asked me for a cigarette (but in vain, because I have never smoked) and then asked what was happening in Rabat.
I told him I did not know and asked him what had happened at the Palace. I learned from Oufkir that lieutenant colonel Ababou, my former boss, and general Madbouh (to whom I owed the fact that I had become an officer), had attacked the Palace leading the cadets, my former friends. I pointed out to Oufkir that Ileutenent colonel Ababou was considered the best officer In the royal forces. I was completely astounded. Oufklr, clearly troubled, did not reply. The king then asked me to put myself at Oufkir's disposal. Oufklr got into my tank In order to get back to Rabat. In the turret of my EBR tank I was standing next to the King's right-hand man, the man whom I detested most In the world after Hassan II. A few days later, he would ask me to be his aide-decamp and soon he would make me his accomplice in overthrowing the king.
Having arrived at Moulay
Ismall camp, Oufkir congratulated me on my cool-headedness and
asked me to telephone him because he wanted to see me again. Next
he went to the post of the commander (PC) of the tank division and
called the commanders of the divisions. Ababou had had it
announced on radio that the king was dead and that the republic
had been proclaimed. But he was already a lone man in his
defeat.
A common grave for
the rebel officers
The reprisals levelled against the rebels were of a savagery hitherto unknown. Wounded cadets were buried alive In a common grave. At the Moulay Ismall camp Hassan II gave the order for the destruction of the army headquarters which were occupied by Ababou's rebels. I believe that Oufklr dissuaded him from this.
I subsequently learned that Oufklr had but a passive role In the hunting of the rebels. On the other hand Dlimi, the chief of the police, displayed cruelty and ruthlessness. He had two trucks of Instruments of torture brought to the military camp. The king himself took part in scenes of the utmost cruelty. Colonel Chebuati, who was tied to a chair. blindfolded, with feet and hands tied, was several times struck by Hassan.
- Who Is this coward who strikes me while I am tied?, he asked.
- Take off the blindfold, Hassan ordered Dlimi.
Chebuati spat in the king's face before many blows rained down on him.
- Tomorrow your dead body will be spat on, promised Hassan
On 13 July, the shooting range at Temara was transformed into a slaughter-house. Tied to poles, 13 offIcers were executed by 13 firing squads each comprising of 1 3 soldiers. The king was present at this massacre accompanied by King Hussein of Jordan. Laraki, the Prime Minister, was the first one to spit on the dead bodies. Commander Salmi cut off the hand of one of the executed officers with a knife in order to recover a pair of handcuffs. A bulldozer ran over the bodies crushing them into a common grave.
Terror reigned in Morocco. It was rare that any officer or non-commissioned officers had not lost one or several friends during this repression. My friends at the camp and I hardly dared to speak. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else.
The next week the commanding officer of the brigade informed me that I was expected by Oufkir at his residence in Souissi. Feeling only half-sure I made my way towards the villa of the one I considered to be the assassin of Ben Barka.
Dressed in civilian clothes, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses which he never took off, Oufkir treated me in a friendly way. He congratulated me on the self-control amd coolness I had shown during the day of the 10 July and he asked me questions about my childhood and my military career. He introduced me to his children and to his little lion cub, called SkhIrat.
He questioned me closely regarding the state of mInd amongst my fellow-officers and in order to save time I offered to give him a detailed report on the subject in three days.
Oufkir used all his charm in order to Inveigle the young officers coming from the rank I did. Morocco is entering a period of difficulty, he assured me. If the king does not u"nlertake serious reforims I feel the army will prepure more revolts.
In spite of the bad reputation of my host I was gradually losing my distrust of him. "A number of generals and ministers are corrupted, he assured me. The king is SIETOWded by CorriiF~ tion and It is also to be found amongst the army staff." I then mentioned to him the name of a colonel who was well known for stealing money from the army's finance and supplies department. "He Is a thug to be eliminated", added Oufkir.
I left the general and his sumptuous villa more than ever resolved to align myself with the devil If this was necessary in order to overthrow the potentate whose hands were red with blood. The revolt at Skhirat had transformed Oufkir but of this I was as yet Ignorant.
Four days later I entered
for the second time the residence of my new ally carrying a 30
page Inflammatory report. In this report I denounced the
corruption amongst the officers
and the promotion due to
favouritism and bribery. After having read it carefully Oufkir
locked the report in the safe hidden in the living-room wall.
Oufkir describes
to me Hassan's despotism
After dinner, the general told me several stories about the court which illustrated the servitude of the ministers and the despotism of Hassan. My host smoked one cigarette after another while launching into a violent tirade against the regime. He told me that at a recent meeting of the council of ministers Snoussi, the black-skinned minister, replied to a remark made by the king: "I am yoor slave". In a rage Hassan declared: "it's not enough to say It, you m'ust be it: this is how my dvflusty has always considered Its servants."
During the dessert the second man in the kingdom asked me to be his aide-de-camp and the teacher of one of his sons. I accepted on condition that I could retain command of my tank division. This was granted me. From that moment onwards I lived at the general's villa and I became his confidant. Ministers and generals were in turn present at the table of the one whom the world called "the General". The dreaded DIlmi became director of Security and never came to the General1s house. I believed, however, that they were friends.
Oufkir made a habit of telling me important secrets when I accompanied him in his car. In the month of September at 3 o'clock in the morning the general was recalling details of the Skhirat plot:
- 1,000 trainee non-commissioned officers could have changed the history of Morocco and made the country advance by a century. They have shown us the way. We must get rid of the monarchy. Hassan has retained all the traditions of a dynasty which had led Morocco to disaster from the beginning of the 20th century. At this very moment instead of being busy with the affairs of the kingdom, he is at Fès with his prostitutes. He has a harem of 150 women, some of whom were kidnapped by the King's private mafia. Our king is a drug addict. His Palace has become a centre for hashish. His son, who is 7 years old, is chairman of the meetings and men kiss his hand; it's worse than under the reign of Louis XIV.
The general who spoke rather bad Arabic expressed himself in French which was not understood by the body guard who accompanied us.
I, as a simple lieutenant, was quite overcome at hearing these secrets. Not concealing my emotion, I stuttered: "You have done me a great honour in telling me these secrets. I will never let you down. I am ready to execute the king." -"No I myself shall take responsibility for that because I will leave to no one else the honor of executing the tyrant of my country."
From that moment onwards a pact was established between myself and the man who had led the repression against my political friends, and I have never before said to anybody the secrets told to me that night.
I had a room in Oufkir's villa where I slept and each morning I would go to the Moulay Ismail camp where I had retained command of my tank brigade. My powerful ally could be very talkative or very silent. He spoke to me at length about Nasser and his national charter which he knew about in great detail. He wanted the American bases removed from Morocco: "the largest of which is the Royal Palace Itself", he would say.
Only once did he speak to me about the Ben Barka affair:
"I had nothing to do with his disappearance. Hassan is the only one responsible for the assassination of Ben Barka."
I was not convinced about
Oufkir's innocence in the Ben Barka affair but I had to be
realistic. Perhaps I had formed an alliance with the devil, but
when my country would be liberated from the monarchy, then there
would always be time, I thought, to separate from Oufkir and to
oppose him if necessary.
"Hassan became suspicious of his "protector"
The preparations for our first attack began three months after Skhirat. The general explained his plan to me during a car journey. His plan seemed simple and effective to me.
- Hassan comes to the staff headquarters almost every Thursday to chair the meetings of the commanding officers. In the conference room there is a safe in the wall. I will lock a machine-gun in the safe. After Hassan arrives, I will need only to take hold of this gun and fire at him.
He drew a plan of the room for me showing the position of the safe and indicating by crosses the seats occupied by the commanding officers and the chief clerks of the headquarters. - After executing Hassan I would tell the officers that I have acted in the name of the people. Then I would play a tape recording of a communiqu4 which you have recorded. Next I would telephone to Driss, the minister of the PTT (national post office company), to ask him to place himself at my disposal. He will accept this gladly' I would telephone to Moulay Abdallah and under any kind of pretext I will have him brought to the headquarters where I will have him arrested. Finally I would call together all the division commanders. You will wait for me in the office adjacent to the conference room. I will send for you and you would go to the radio station with the prerecorded tapes.
Using a tape recorder bought in a shop in Rabat I recorded in Arabic a declaration which I had had read to the general who approved it after making some changes. He asked me to emphasize the word Revolution, the army serving the people
Here is a summary of
it:
The Islamic Republic of Morocco.
"Liberty - political and economic democracy - Islamic unity."
"In the name of Allah, in the name of our martyrs, in the name of the people, in the name of justice and right, and in the name of the will of the people to choose the regime which suits them and to determine their own destiny, we proclaim an Islamic republic, the abolition of the monarchy which the Koran forbids. We announce that the tyrant, the dictator, the madman Hassan II has been condemned to death and executed by the the provisional council of the commander of the revolutIon for all his crimes and murders against our people. A temporary revolutionary council is temporarily going to direct the affairs of the country until a revolutionary concil has been elected by a general election."
"The king has been liquidated by the army in order to give power to the general will of the people. We who Initiated the revolution have no magic wand for bringing about the general desire of the people. We have eliminated the king. It Is now up to the people to put an end to the domination and exploitation perpetrated by the other little kings who are to be found throughout the country. We have acted in the capacity of citizens and not In the capucity of soldiers. Henceforth, we will direct our bayonets not to wards the people but against tyranny."
Everything was ready for the
great day. One Wednesday in November Oufkir placed the machine-gun
and the tape recorder in the safe in the army headquarters. The
next day both of us got into a black DS driven by a chief
sergeant. Vie drove Into the courtyard of the army headquarters
saluted by the guard of honour. I was worried and anxious and
Oufkir's calm greatly Impressed me: He shook hands with me and
went into the conference room.
Shut in the adjacent office I waited for perhaps 30 minutes or perhaps an hour. Finally the door opened, the general came up to me and said: "We failed. The King has Just telephoned me to say that he would not be coming."
For seven long days I waited for the following Thursday. Once more the king did not come to the fatal rendez-vous. Oufkir Informed me that in future the conferences would take place at the Royal Palace. "Let's execute him thure then", I suggested to the general. "It's too risky, he replied. We must find some other way".
At the end of the year Oufkir asked the king to visit the barracks which holds the BLS security division. Hassan foiled the scheme and did not come.
On another occasion we were expecting him at the Moulay Ismail barracks. It was the time of the most important Islamic festival (the festival of the sacrifice of the sheep). However, we waited in vain because this was another rendez-vous which the king did not appear at.
We thought we could succeed in March. Hassan was to be present at a conference in the officers' mess. In the conference room, which is also a projection room, Oufkir hid his machine-gun. However, becoming more and more suspicious, the king did not appear at this meeting.
A short while later, Oufkir narrowly escaped a helicopter accident In Agadir. He assured me that "Hassan had the helicopter sabotaged".
Before the meeting of the
African summit the king demanded that all divisions be placed on a
state of alert, the officers themselves not being allowed to
return to their homes. I suggested to Oufklr that we make the
attempt on 10 July, the day of Hassan's birthday. One year after
the carnage of Skhirat, the celebrations at the Summer Palace were
taking place with the usual guests and the scandalous luxury. The
general rejected my proposals. Nevertheless, I went to the Palace
for the celebra tions.
For a second time I found myself face to face with the king and
noticed his ravage visage. Dressed as a cow-boy, his majesty, who
was babbling with his obsequious guests, asked for a few minutes'
silence in memory of the victims of the sedition. The following
day Oufkir was present at the reception called "The night of the
women". When he returned he told me, sickened, how the king was
kissing his courtesans before throwing them a handful of diamonds.
The guests rushed forward jostling one another to pick up the
precious stones thrown on the ground.
The machin-gunning
of the Boeng with blank shots
In August, Hassan left for France. We had to arrange something for his return.
I suggested occupying SaI~ airport using trustworthy men and shooting at the king while he came off the plane. Oufkir informed me that he had decided to attack Hassan's Boeing using F 5 fighter planes. He said to me that he himself would be In one of the planes and would participate in the machine-gunning. After a quick visit to his family, who were on holiday In Tétouan, my accomplice was back in Rabat on 10 August.
The next day he met with lieutenant colonel Amkrane and asked him to machine-gun the Royal Boeing. Hassan's return was scheduled for 16 August. On the evening of the 15th of August Amkrane, who was extremely Ill, informed us that he would not be able to pilot the plane and suggested Kouira as a substitute pilot, a man of his confidence.
- You're the boss, he said to Oufkir, you can inform him.
A meeting was arranged by telephone In Casablanca, in a bar in Hassan II avenue. At 3.30 a m, the general returned. He woke me up to tell me: "EverythIng is ready, we are In the hands of God". He wanted to hear one last time the recording which I had prepared before our first attempt.
That night he did not go to bed. On the morning of 16 August, he went to Temara for a mysterious meeting and came back about 11 o'clock. "Three F 5 fighters will attack the king's plane - soon as it flies over Moroccan soil. This time he will not escape", he assured me.
At 4 p m the general telephoned colonel Hatimi, commander of the tank brigade, and asked him to go to the airport. A little while later I left him and went back to Moulay Ismall camp.
"Wait for me there, and I will contact you."
At 4.30 p m, Oufkir ordered the tank brigade to go on a state of alert. At 5 p m, my 17 tanks were armed. A few moments later the general came into the barracks' yard, in a 403, driven by a commander of the marines. Thirty minutes earlier he had heard in the control tower a message transmitted by the Boeing's radio "stop firing, the King has been fatally wounded".
At the commanding officers' post he was talking with three officers of the tank brigade when someone called him on the telephone "on behalf of the king". I will never know what the king said to him because I was never again to see him alive. He left the camp in an R 16 driven by a captain. I learned that he had subsequently gone to the army headquarters and to the airport where the king had disappeared.
Responsibility for the
failure of the operation lay with commander Kouira who had
equipped the machine-guns in three fighter lets with blank
training bullets instead of using explosive bullets. He had
mistaken the ammunition boxes. As a further piece of bad luck
Kouira's machine-gun had failed to work correctly. He attempted to
make his fighter jet collide with the Boeing and escape by
parachute. The two other pilots, lieutenant Zyad and lieutenant
Boükhalif, had used up all their ammunition supplies. They
touched down at Kenitra, loaded their machine-guns and went on to
Salé airport which they machine-gunned. Commander Kouira
landed by parachute at Oulad-Khallfa, near Kenitra, where police
arrived in a helicopter and captured him.
A suicide victim
riddled with bullets
Without receiving any news I remained with my tanks at the tank camp where I waited for a part of the night. At 3 o'clock in the morning, a foreign radio announced that Oufkir had left from the air-base in Kenitra. At 5 a m, France-Inter announced: "General Oufklr has committed suicide". In spite of this fearful piece of news I did not despair, suspecting that in these moments of madness false pieces of news were quite common. He had told me that if anything should happen to him, I was to put the recordings in a safe place, the recordings which announced the fall of the monarchy.
At daybreak, around 6 a m, I left the camp by the Infirmary exit and in my car, which had been parked in a neighbouring street, I made my way towards the general's residence. I stopped my car behind the villa and with my revolver hidden In my jacket N approached a soldier in combat uniform who was standing on guard.
- Has the general come back?
- Which general?
- Oufkir.
- He is dead. Go in, you can see him.
Oüfkir's brother led me to the body of my chief which was covered with a blanket. I lifted the blanket and looked carefully at the body riddled with bullets. The chest, the stomach, and a portion of the face had been blown off. The bullets had been shot from behind. So he had not committed suicide.
The brief-case, which was so
incriminating for me, could not be found. I had to flee. I
abandoned my car in the centre of the town after exchanging my
officers' uniform for beach wear I had found on the back seat. I
got rid of my automatic 11 mm pistol which Oufkir had given me. At
each cross-roads armed soldiers were checking the occupants of
cars. Behind the station I got into an old taxi which took me to
Yaakoub El Mansour, Rabat's shanty town. I walked towards the sea
and took off my clothes keeping on only a pair of bathing trunks
and made my way southwards, towards Casablanca. Before arriving at
Skhirat I decided to move Inland and to make a long detour. At
Fedalah, I bought a djellabah (typical Moroccan style of dress)
and a wig. N arrived in Casablanca at night where I learnt from a
friend that the police were searching for me.
My escape to Sweden
ror two and a half months I wandered all over, sleeping anywhere. After living for a month in a hippie camp near Mogador, I made my way into the Middle Atlas Mountains, where I lived in a nomad camp amongst the sheep and the goats. For eight months 1 looked after the flocks and completely lost contact with the world. In March, a mokhazin (the police in the country-side) post, forces of the Ministry of Interior were attacked by some peasants not far from my nomad's camp. The army, using helicopters, was combing the region. I had to flee.
After a great many precautions, I arrived in Sweden in August 1973. One of the few documents which I managed to retain was waiting for me poste restante in Stockholm. It was signed by the commander of the Military Royal Academy and it stated:
"Officer cadet Rami is a
graduate teacher of the Ecole Normale Superieure and was a teacher
of Arabic at the Mohamed V senior secondary school. Because of his
loyalty to his country he gave up his position as a lecturer in
the lecture theatres for the post of leading men on the
battlefield. He is a trainee officer possessing the quality of
absolute sacrifice and a keenly developed sense of orgnization;
furthermore, by his sense of honour and service, officer cadet
Rami has done much for the Ecole. Honest, reliable and trustworthy
and enjoying the sense of danger and filled with unquestionable
physical and moral courage, officer cadet Rami possesses all the
qualities which have always made great officers."
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