The holiness of the city exists in surrendering to this polarity. There is peace to be found in these tethered yet opposing elements: the private, the public, the warmth, the shadows, and the echoes that dance between them. Described by the writer Paul Bowles as “a city of great distances, flat as a table,” Marrakech has layers in its intimacy. A city of secrets, in the winding pathways of the noisy medina nest tiled courtyards saturated with fig trees, blooming roses, citrus, and cacti that hush the clamour beyond the walls.  

It is believed that Marrakech was built for Zaynab an-Nafzāwiyyah, the earliest documented Malika, or queen, of the Almoravid dynasty in the 11th century. Said to be of great intelligence, beauty, and wit, the queen was thought to have the qualities of a sorceress, imbued with the ability to control forces beyond the human eye. It was during her reign that the first Khettaras were laid, the manmade canals that shepherd water down by gravity from the Atlas Mountains to the gardens, basins and marble fountains throughout the city.  

In Marrakech you can trace the vitality of the city by the gardens and mosques that have sprung from these water sources as if they are the central nervous system of the city— a lush stratum of greenery in an otherwise pinkish-red palette. 

On first entering Amanjena, you encounter the same labyrinthine scale shifts of Marrakech-at-large. Long views draw one’s vision through the clean flatness of a pink clay corridor that opens upon a vast reflecting pool. Walking along the side of the body of water, you cast a hard shadow, until you are enveloped by smaller walkways shaded by the dappled light from fruiting date palms. A long wall conceals the entryway to each suite, which open into private quarters that are flooded with light but cooled by their vaulted ceilings.  

Around every corner, there is a moment to ponder the unseen, the lifeforce underneath. In each suite is the softening sight of a bathtub, separated from a private enclosed garden by a large pane of glass. Light filters in between the boughs of two trees, dancing across the deep green marble. The bath holds a sacred space, as does water in the city.  

When we visit Amanjena, the sun sits atop the sky for most of the day, humbling us towards shelter in the shadows as we explore. In the early morning, we watch the light turn dusky orange to a Turner yellow as it crawls across the exposed sides of leaves and the spikes of cacti. We keep time with the light, the water, and the plants. At the height of each day, we submerge ourselves in the turquoise tiled pool of Amanjena. In the evenings we eat olives and dishes flavoured with saffron, ginger, cumin, turmeric, and lime.  

Gardens exist as markers of humanity. In the same way a dish is prepared with the hands of its chef, plants are presented as stories of the land, in a place of possibility and of what was once possible. In Morocco wild nature is resilient, but weathered. You see the way the sun, the winds, the sands imprint on those who live in close proximity to them. The cultivation of plants speaks to a will to persevere. In harsh climates, gardeners become caretakers of the sacred. Water springs from the earth, but it is only guided to the roots of plants by humans, and only ushered through canals by the volition of those who choose to keep it moving, much like the Khettaras built into the city.   

Marrakech is often referred to as a rose in the desert. A rose, more than any flower requires tending. It cannot exist without care. The Musk Rose (Rosa moschata nasturana) has delicate layers of white petals with a central yellow stamen that seems to burst open. Its wild origins are unclear but in lore it is said the rose first sprouted from the perspiration of the Prophet Mohammad’s brow on the night of his holy nocturnal journey from Mecca to Jerusalem. 

As you walk through the city, its gardens imprint on you, the symbolism of the plants embedding into you. They become markers of history within you, sense memories of a place both of today and yesterday.  

As the light drives across the pink walls of the city like a sundial, hard lines creating an ambient movable shelter, with palm dates casting long shadows as life keeps moving, weaving in and out of the darkness and light, the wafts of jasmine or a felled lime keeping you centred in this landscape of contrasts.  

In the latest of Aman’s Meditations, revered British photographer Jo Metson Scott and acclaimed American writer Monica Nelson embark on a sensory journey to Amanjena enamoured by its contrasting sights and sounds. Through their own mediums, they unpack the colourful history of the city, revealed though a network of fountains and bassins - sacred water sources that contrast the summer heat.

Jo Metson Scott is a photographer and image-maker who captures individuals, communities and social stories around the world with empathy, sensitivity and tenderness. Specialising in portraiture, fashion and documentary projects, Jo’s clients include brands such as Chloé, Dior and Hermes alongside leading titles British Vogue, The New York Times and the Financial Times, to name a few. 

Monica Nelson is a designer, writer and art director who has worked on campaigns for brands such as Levi’s®, Kate Spade, Urban Outfitters, and MoMA. During her BFA in Graphic Design from Pratt Institute, she founded the contemporary journal, Wilder Quarterly, while her love of nature also inspired her book, Edible Flowers - a beautiful and illuminating guide to their use and cultural history.