All the poems in this gathering are not of Mririda’s own inspiration, but part of an oral, ancestral tradition. Nevertheless, she brought them to [me] with an art that is only her, in this dialect of transition, where the tamazirt jostles with the tachelhait particular to this region overlapping the Atlas, from Demnat to El Kelaa of the Mgouna. She sang these songs in a warm and captivating voice, from which was excluded every sharp note, and which always caused a certain surprise to listeners even profane and gross. But in the souk (market) of Azilal, who could impart true attention to her talent? Unfamiliar with the tachelhait dialect, the non-commissioned French officers cared little about the songs. When it came to indigenous clients—⁠—goums, truck drivers, passing merchants—⁠—they manifested, but for the rare exceptions, the most total scorn.