A nearby row of shops seemed untouched until I noticed a vertical scar, as if a giant axeman had nearly cut them apart. A nearby building’s entrails were visible.

A man outside the mosque said, “You should see the really bad ones around the corner.”.

It was a good call. A television jutted out of the rubble, but those houses didn’t exist.

Several people died in Amizmiz, and some bodies have not been recovered yet.

In the small square next to the shops, another man was methodically piling up his possessions, exposing sofas and cupboards to the elements. He smiled politely when I wished him courage.

This neighbourhood is not the only one in Amizmiz that has been hit hard. However, everyone living here has been affected. Almost everyone has left their homes because the buildings are unsafe.

The government has provided shelter to the lucky ones. On the opposite hillside, I saw yellow tents, and nearer the center, blue tents.

The Moroccan sense of solidarity I saw so often this week was displayed in the free stay at a hotel.

At the hotel, I met Abdelali, a friend of a friend of a friend. Despite wearing a lilac shirt and sunglasses, the secondary school teacher seemed relaxed until he talked about his experience.

The earthquake had claimed the lives of many of his students and friends.