First, I have to apologize that this newsletter has been a little inconsistent the past month or two. I’ll be extremely honest: I’ve been trying not to shit my pants.

When the power failed in Tunisia, something I ate, probably from a gap in the refrigerated food supply, gave me an infection that has lingered ever since.

Since then, I’ve been hosting group trips in Morocco and Egypt, travelers from 20 states and three countries, and it’s taken a lot out of me. I’m also now on my third different medication trying to clear this thing.

Anytime I’m not hosting, I’m resting, drinking a lot of liquids, talking to yet another doctor, and staying extremely close to a toilet.

And still, I’ve managed some of the best days: napping on a boat on the Nile, laughing until I cried at dinner in Morocco, showing so many of you why I love this part of the world.

There’s so much more of that storytelling to come. But for now, while I recover, I want to share another story from the region, this one from Morocco.

If you came on our recent Morocco North or South trips, the term Amazigh may ring a bell. It’s the name for the indigenous people of North Africa, often called Berber, though that word traces back to “barbarian,” and many people don’t love it. On the Morocco South trip especially, one of the highlights is getting to learn a little Amazigh history and culture.

As the year winds down and we begin to think about the holidays at home, it felt like the right time to go deeper into an Amazigh New Year tradition that, naturally, centers our favorite thing: food and culture.

By Malika Akestour

The evening of January 14 is marked by the rich smell of toasted semolina, a durum wheat flour, and gently warmed olive oil drifting from kitchens all across Amazigh, widely known in the West as Berber, households in Morocco.

The matriarchs could be seen stirring a pot of tagoula, a thick, grain-based dish cooked slowly over an open flame, while children crowd the doorway.

Somewhere inside the pot, buried beneath the golden porridge, a single date pit waits to be found.

Fatima Zahra Allali, a presenter on Tamazight, Morocco’s public channel named for the Amazigh language, remembers these evenings with the clarity of someone still warmed by them.

“We would gather at my grandmother's house, may God rest her soul, and cook tagoula,” she said.

The dish at the center of these memories is tagoula, and the occasion is Iḍ n Yennayer (ɪd n jɛnˈnaɪ.ər), the Amazigh New Year, celebrated annually in the first month of each year across Morocco, Algeria, and parts of the wider North African diaspora.

In 2023, the Moroccan government elevated the date to an official paid national holiday, a milestone in decades of activism by the Amazigh movement to secure recognition of a culture and calendar that predates Islam, Arab settlement, and the modern borders of the Maghreb.

"We all came together, eating, laughing, and sharing stories, like the tale of Queen Dihya, the Amazigh warrior queen, who led resistance against Arab expansion in North Africa in the 7th century.” Allali recounted. “For me, Yennayer has always been about family and love.”

Allali added that the official recognition of the Amazigh New Year has widened awareness of the celebration well beyond the family circle.

In the past, she says, families celebrated largely among themselves. "Today, everyone knows about this holiday. Here in the Souss region, in Agadir, you can find many activities and cultural events. The whole city celebrates."

People have come to learn about Yennayer and Amazigh culture, she adds, whether they are Amazigh or not, and join in the festivities.

"That in itself is something beautiful."

It's currently the year 2976 according to the Amazigh calendar — and the roots of tagoula go back to the very beginning of that count. Older than the wheat fields of pre-Roman North Africa. Older than the throne of ancient Egypt, according to Mohamed Aounad, a scholar and media personality specializing in Amazigh culture.

“As part of Yennayer celebrations, families come together to savor this dish, often paired with other foods symbolizing prosperity and blessings for the year ahead,” he said.

The dish is traditionally served on a shared circular plate, with an Aghrmi, a date pit, hidden within the porridge. The family member who discovers it is thought to be blessed with good fortune in the year ahead.

In Douar El Kharba, a small settlement in a rural commune in southern Morocco, Rachid Dahbi recalls the same ritual with a tenderness that belies his age.

What he treasures most, he said, is the childhood excitement of searching for the date seed hidden inside the dish – a small detail that turns a simple meal into a moment of joy, anticipation, and shared memory.

He remembers the warmth of the room, the smell of tagoula mixed with argan oil, used in southern Moroccan cooking as well as cosmetics, and the sound of his family.

"I look at the faces around me, my parents, my relatives, and I realize this is the same way our ancestors celebrated, in simple moments of togetherness."

Yet the survival of traditions like tagoula has never been guaranteed, and the story of how they endured is closely tied to broader efforts to preserve Amazigh language and culture.

For decades, Amazigh communities in Morocco faced structural marginalization. Until 2003, the Amazigh language could not be taught in public schools, and parents were legally restricted from registering their children with traditional Amazigh names.

Activists worked for years to preserve the language and its traditions. Their efforts have driven a gradual policy shift beginning in the late 1960s, with Morocco integrating Amazigh into education and public institutions, and declaring the Amazigh New Year a national holiday.

Aounad explained that detailed documentation of these oral traditions remains elusive in academic circles.

"Historically, people may not have written down these customs, but they have been passed orally for generations, and so preserving both identity and collective memory of the Amazigh people became a challenge," he said.

While recognition helped cement the holiday, and with it tagoula, as part of Moroccan heritage, its survival at the household level has always depended on grandmothers rather than the government.

Boumisser Abdelouahed, an administrator at Morocco's Ministry of National Education who specializes in Amazigh translation, described women as the primary cultural mediators of the tradition.

“They prepare tagoula according to inherited rituals,” he said, “and they explain its symbolism to children and visitors by linking the dish to folk tales and prayers, and hopes for a good agricultural year.”

Malika Bouabid, a Moroccan cooking expert, agreed. She learned to prepare tagoula as a child, not through formal instruction but through close proximity to its traditional makers.

"Watching the preparation steps, smelling the grains as they cooked, and waiting together around the pot. That is how the dish was passed down from one generation to the next," she explained.

Regional variations add further texture. Aounad noted that in the Ihahane region, a mountainous coastal area in western Morocco, families place various types of grains instead of a date seed inside the dish.

“Some leave the grains under the stars overnight to predict the coming year, with each type carrying its own symbolism related to life and agriculture,” he said.

The celebration has also shifted shape in recent years. What was once a home-based, family-centered ritual has expanded into schools, media broadcasts, and public institutions.

Abdelouahed described the adaptation as intelligent. The symbolic essence connected to the land and identity, he said, remains present in most celebrations, whether in villages or cities, "reflecting the dynamism of Amazigh culture and its ability to renew and adapt to modern developments without losing its profound meaning."

Social media has accelerated that renewal. Dahbi, the young co-founder of Annahda Association, an independent Moroccan non-governmental organization, in his rural commune, said platforms like Facebook and Instagram have become spaces where young Amazigh people share songs, traditional outfits, recipes, and stories. Heritage, he said, is not only preserved but amplified, connecting generations across geography.

Whether every young person grasps the deeper layers of the tradition is another question. Dahbi was candid.

"Some do. Some don't. That's normal in every generation," he said. But he sees cause for optimism.

“Young people are asking questions about Amazigh history, language, and symbolism more than before.”

Abdelouahed agrees. Amazigh identity, he said, was never built around grand ceremonies. It was shaped around simplicity and community, oral heritage, and connection to the land.

The persistence of small rituals like tagoula reflects the strength of collective memory and a culture's capacity to endure.

Dahbi, for his part, returns to the moment itself.

"Celebrating Yennayer is about survival," he said. "For a long time, Amazigh culture was marginalized and so celebrating Yennayer is not about showing off; I think it is culture refusing to disappear."

This story is produced in collaboration with Egab.

One thing people have asked me for over and over is to host trips here in the U.S. It makes sense: less vacation time, less distance, more accessible. Our international trips are a big undertaking by comparison.

I’ll be honest about why I’ve hesitated. It’s cost. We’ve done the research and priced out multi-day U.S. experiences, and a 4-day trip in a major American city, with the same hotels and inclusions we do abroad, can cost as much as 14 or 15 days overseas. It just hasn't made sense.

BUT there’s still room for us to gather, connect, and take a break together in the States, just maybe in a different format. And I’m starting in a city I love. So here's what we have planned in Richmond, VA:

Supper Club at Penny’s Wine Bar
November 10 · 6:30 PM · Penny’s Wine Bar

One of my favorite places in the city, and it’s Black-owned. We’ll have the entire place to ourselves for the night. Bubbly and time to mingle to start, then a multi-course meal together. We’ve got the space for a full three hours, so this is leisurely, no rushing anyone out because the table’s been turned. Just a real, connected night.

Something Shiny with Anela Malik at Sun & Selene
November 11 · 4:00 - 7:00 PM · Sun & Selene

The next day after our Supper Club is Veterans Day, a federal holiday, so I’m staying in town for an afternoon at Sun & Selene. I found this place on a trip to Richmond back in 2024 and I’ve been wearing and talking about my favorite pieces ever since. Come spend some time in their space: permanent jewelry, drinks, good company, good conversation. Browse the shop, find your next favorite S&S piece, and the permanent jewelry station will be open all afternoon.

Make it a getaway.
I'm hosting these events back-to-back for a reason. That way, you can come down for Penny’s, then you’ve got options: head home that night, or stay over, sleep in, and explore Richmond in the morning before the Sun & Selene afternoon. Make it a girls’ trip, make it a couples’ trip, make it a mini escape. In a week, when sign ups go live, I’ll send a list of Richmond spots worth checking out and a hotel suggestion if you want to stay the night.

And we'll still be hosting online events throughout fall and winter, including:

Holiday Cocktail Class + Unfiltered Q&A (virtual)
As we head into the holidays, I’m hosting a combined cocktail class and Q&A. We’ll all make a drink, learn a little mixology, and then you can ask me anything, travel, the trips I just hosted, what’s coming next year, all of it. Still locking the date with the mixologist, so more details soon.