Think Forward.

For once, the PJD is proposing to set up a national sports council 7090

Aziz Daouda, 4 mon.
- Politics - Society - Sports -
3.5 min read.
It's not customary, but this Sunday, April 6, 2025, the article is about sports. I don't usually like to talk about it unless I'm forced to. It's paradoxical, given that I've dedicated my life to sports and made it my profession. Many are convinced that it's very difficult to make changes, as mediocrity is deeply rooted, good intentions are disrupted, undesirable skills are present, dedication is not valued, and honesty is perceived as questionable. The opportunity arose due to two political parties, as it's not common for both parties to show interest in sports within a week. The PJD and the FFD have done so. I found this very interesting because usually, parties only address the subject after unacceptable results. Then, succumbing to emotion, they take advantage of the situation to question the government and, for a while, take a stand, criticizing the responsible minister and blaming the federations. This was the case recently following the disappointing results at the Paris Olympics. Afterwards, there was complete silence. During the preparation of electoral campaign programs, some parties, though rare, mention sports in simple narratives that are generally devoid of meaning; just to say it's important, without specifying why or how they plan to address it once in parliament or government. This quickly translates into a lack of vision in the inaugural speeches of prime ministers, now chiefs of government. We settle for a few phrases picked up here and there to say that sports are not forgotten. From memory, I can cite a few exceptions that confirm the rule. The Ittihad Addoustouri, in its program at its creation, dedicated a good chapter to sports. I contributed significantly to it. The USFP, during the last elections, also invited me to a reflection that served as the basis for the party's program. I also remember participating in similar work a long time ago with the Istiqlal under the impetus of Si Belmahi, the valiant president of the FRM cycling federation. This time, it's the PJD that has taken a stand by proposing, according to the press, a bill to create a National Sports Council in place of the current responsible department, namely the small sports department under the Ministry of National Education, Preschool, and Sports. The structure of Si Akhanouch's Government and its revised version continues to astonish, reducing sports to a simple department without prominence among the prerogatives of a ministry bogged down in endless reforms, without us seeing the end of the tunnel. Since independence, national education has been in perpetual reform. The latest one dates back to just last week. Let's hope it's not the last. Since this attachment, the two ministers in charge seem not to have time for sports. The PJD has come boldly with this project, which is not new. The first sports conferences in the early sixties already mentioned it. Since then, sports have experienced at least 14 or 15 upheavals, going from an independent department to being attached to youth, national education, passing through a secretariat attached to the prime minister. It was even attached to labor during the time of the late Arsalane El Jadidi. Sports will continue on its path with more or less success, but mostly repetitive failures. The only time it experienced some stability was during the time of the late Abdellatif Semlali, who still holds the record for longevity as a sports official. His tenure as Secretary of State and then Minister lasted eleven good years. We talked then about a sports takeoff. It was a relatively happy period that saw a restructuring of the sports field with sponsorship, the second round in the World Cup, the creation of the National Athletics School, and a resurgence of youth in more than one sport discipline. The PJD, which led the government, didn't it realize the malaise that sports were experiencing during its ten years of glory? Better late than never. Moving to a sports management system that escapes political time is a necessity. It's an evident demand made by many specialists for a long time, without the political world following up. Sports time is longer than political time. Preparing high-level athletes requires 7 to 8 years of continuous and linear work. Sports performance requires time and stability. The number of ministers in charge of sports who have succeeded each other in a short period shows how much we need this stability, and that's one of the flaws, but not the only one. Due to ignorance of this history, some say that the project is inspired by what happened in France with the creation of an agency to handle sports. This is completely false. The demand in Morocco is much older. For about forty years, it has been discussed. Already during the government of Driss Jettou, it was on the table but did not succeed for many reasons, including a certain resistance that does not want this highly promising sector to leave the political sphere. National sports can only thank the PJD for this bold move, even if it doesn't have much chance of succeeding, given how things are going in the current parliament. The PJD, being largely in the minority and without real support from its partners in the opposition, will have at least succeeded in opening the debate in the right direction. The supporters of Si Benkirane rightly refer to the royal letter of 2008. They cite the law 30.09 without saying that it was catastrophic for national sports. This could be the subject of a future article. The second party that raised the issue of sports did so just yesterday. It is the Front of Democratic Forces. The party, under the leadership of Si Mustapha Benali, has brought back to the forefront the discussion of public sports policies with an extremely wide and varied panel of specialists and sports leaders, and in the presence of representatives from political parties of the same persuasion. The debates were of very good quality with a broad consensus around solutions that seem obvious and the surprise that they are not being implemented. This kind of debate is as necessary as it is urgent. Morocco, which makes sports and football in particular a driver of development, cannot wait any longer, lest it see its colossal efforts wasted and thus dangerous for its near and distant future.
Aziz Daouda

Aziz Daouda

Directeur Technique et du Développement de la Confédération Africaine d'Athlétisme. Passionné du Maroc, passionné d'Afrique. Concerné par ce qui se passe, formulant mon point de vue quand j'en ai un. Humaniste, j'essaye de l'être, humain je veux l'être. Mon histoire est intimement liée à l'athlétisme marocain et mondial. J'ai eu le privilège de participer à la gloire de mon pays .


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The Seven Chakras: A Metaphysical Anatomy of the Soul 502

Tupan, 5 h.
Throughout the ages, esoteric traditions, yogic sciences, and mystical philosophies have described the human being as more than flesh and bone—as an energetic organism with subtle centers of power, perception, and spiritual potential. Among these systems, the doctrine of the seven chakras stands as one of the most refined and symbolically rich models of inner transformation. These chakras—meaning “wheels” in Sanskrit—are vortexes of energy located along the body axis, each responsible for specific aspects of consciousness, physiology, and spiritual evolution. From the densest energies of survival to the most ethereal states of divine union, the chakras form a ladder of ascent, guiding the soul towards enlightenment. The Root Chakra (Muladhara), located at the base of the spine, is the foundation of the entire energetic system. It governs physical survival, grounding, and the instinct for self-preservation. Associated with the element earth, it links the individual to the material world and the ancestral lineage. When balanced, it grants stability, trust, and a strong connection to one's body and environment. When blocked or deficient, it manifests as fear, insecurity, or disconnection from the physical plane. Spiritually, Muladhara represents the coiled energy of potential—the kundalini—awaiting its ascent through the higher centers. The Sacral Chakra (Svadhisthana), situated just below the navel, is linked to creativity, sexuality, and emotional fluidity. Associated with the element water, it reflects the soul's capacity to feel, to relate, and to generate life—physically, artistically, or spiritually. It is the seat of desire, pleasure, and procreation, and its energy is relational, connecting the self to others through intimacy and shared experience. When in harmony, it allows the free expression of emotion and creative force. When imbalanced, it may result in emotional instability, guilt, or addictive tendencies. Svadhisthana is where passion and refinement meet. The Solar Plexus Chakra (Manipura) is the center of personal power, will, and self-definition. Aligned with the element fire, it is related to transformation, ambition, and the assertion of the individual will. It is through Manipura that one develops a clear sense of identity and the strength to act upon purpose. When balanced, this chakra radiates confidence, motivation, and integrity. An excess may produce domination or pride, while deficiency results in passivity or low self-worth. Spiritually, Manipura is the alchemical forge where ego begins to be disciplined and transmuted into conscious intention. The Heart Chakra (Anahata) is the gateway between the lower and upper chakras, and the center of unconditional love, compassion, and spiritual empathy. Associated with the element air, it expands the sense of self to include others, fostering connection, forgiveness, and inner peace. An open Anahata transcends personal desire and embraces unity, allowing one to love without attachment and to serve without self-interest. Imbalances may manifest as emotional coldness, grief, or over-dependence. Spiritually, this chakra is the sacred rose of divine love, unfolding toward the eternal. The Throat Chakra (Vishuddha) governs expression, communication, and the power of the word. Linked to the element ether (or sound), it represents the capacity to speak truth and to manifest thought into form through language. It is also the seat of inner listening and alignment between inner truth and outer expression. When open and balanced, Vishuddha enables authentic speech and artistic expression. When blocked, it may result in silence, dishonesty, or miscommunication. At the spiritual level, it is through this center that the magician, mystic, or initiate learns to wield the sacred word—the logos—as an instrument of transformation. The Third Eye Chakra (Ajna), positioned between the eyebrows, is the seat of inner vision, intuition, and higher perception. It transcends rational analysis and opens the gates to symbolic insight, dreams, and clairvoyant awareness. Associated with the light element or pure mind, it integrates the polarities of logic and imagination, allowing one to perceive patterns, archetypes, and spiritual truths. A balanced Ajna chakra produces clarity, insight, and an awakened inner compass. Imbalance may cause delusion, fantasy, or disconnection from reality. Mystically, Ajna is the eye of the soul, through which one perceives the invisible architecture of the cosmos. The Crown Chakra (Sahasrara), located at the top of the head, is the highest center of consciousness, representing union with the Divine, cosmic intelligence, and spiritual liberation. Unlike the other chakras, Sahasrara is not governed by an element but by pure consciousness—chit—itself. It is symbolized by a thousand-petaled lotus, forever unfolding into infinity. When this chakra is fully awakened, the individual transcends ego and merges with universal will, experiencing profound bliss, silence, and liberation. Imbalances may manifest as spiritual disconnection, nihilism, or excessive intellectualism. At its highest vibration, Sahasrara is not a center of power but a doorway to the return to the Source. Together, the seven chakras form a living mandala of human potential. They are not merely energetic centers but evolutionary thresholds, each inviting the soul to purify, awaken, and integrate aspects of the self on its path toward unity with the divine. When harmonized, these chakras become a ladder of light—a sacred ascent from survival to transcendence, from matter to spirit. The awakening of the chakras is thus not an end in itself, but a means of returning to wholeness, where the human becomes a conscious expression of the infinite.

Genesis... 3120

Aziz Daouda, 1 d.
I greatly enjoy looking out windows, any windows. Windows have always offered me a picture of life. A picture that constantly changes, a picture that I alone see before it disappears forever. Maybe that is where my taste for the ephemeral comes from. It is my only certainty. What I am also sure of is that it comes from the fact that as a baby and young child, my mother would place me by the window where I would hold onto a grille. An opportunity to be both inside and outside at the same time and to let her go about her many responsibilities as a housewife. It was a traditional Moroccan grille, typical of ours. Today, I have reused that same grille design on the windows and balconies of my house. I have in fact remained my mother’s eternal child, no doubt like we all remain so, but probably differently, otherwise, uniquely. The window is an escape from the cramped space of the house. In fact, all houses are cramped. The house, paradoxically despite its smallness, is a space of freedom, intimacy, and security. It is also a space that distances the horizon and makes it sublime. The window allowed me to raise my head and look far. As far as this window allowed me to see. The house cultivates the dream; the window waters it. On the evening my mother passed away, I stood by the window. It seemed to me I heard her voice again speaking from afar to reassure me. My mother loved me very much. She did not say it, but made me feel it through the tone of her voice, her gaze, and a slight smile at the corner of her lips. A smile she had a special secret to. My mother’s smile was genetic. I clearly saw she inherited it from my grandmother—Cherifa Lalla Zhour had the same smile. My mother was not expansive. She extended her love to my children later, and I felt it. I was her eldest, her first female experience, her first pains, her first childbirth, the first baby cry to her ears. I owe my mother much: the sensation of a pencil in hand, the touch of the softness of paper before writing on it, the taste for reading and the pleasure of manual work. My mother was among the first classes of the modern school in Fès. My maternal grandfather, Si Ahmed Ben Ali, had the wisdom to send her to school against the opinion of people at the time—family, neighbors, and onlookers. She traveled a long distance from Saqaet El Abbassyine to her school. It was in Fès j’did, a neighborhood of great nationalists, intellectuals, artists, and state clerks: Bahnini, Benbouchta, Moulay Ahmed El Alaoui, Ahmed Chajai, and many others. It is the stronghold of Wydad of Fès. I have many wonderful memories of Saqaet El Abbassyine. From time to time, I go for a walk there to recharge myself. The dilapidation of Bab Riafa, the sad passage by Lalla Ghriba to reach Saqaet El Abbassyine, the continuation by Sidi Hmama to arrive at Qobt Assouk, saddens me every time. So, to soothe my pain and sorrow, I go and sit at Bab Boujloud to enjoy a good glass of tea prepared in a traditional samovar, under the famous mulberry tree. The magic of Fès is unmatched. My father, on the other hand, was affection in the absolute. The exemplary man. The man who forged my pride and committed my life to serving the country. Moroccan at heart, attached to the land of his ancestors. Proud to have been an active nationalist against the protectorate. He spoke of his people’s struggle against French soldiers. He kept fresh memories of the fights of Bou Gafer and the brave battle of his people. He was happy to have served his country but also disappointed with the evolution of some things. He said that we were losing our soul with the decline of our attachment to ancestral values; remembered by all the families of old Rabat who still recall him for having treated their children and eased their pains. He passed away certain that Morocco could have done better. He remained attached to his parents and adored them, attached to his native land that he visited every year, attached to his people to whom he offered land to expand the Sidi Daoud cemetery, his forever village, today swallowed by a soulless Ouarzazate. I am not surprised. My father is a direct descendant of Sidi Daoud, a Sufi Sheikh and great scholar who left many works including the famous *Oumahat Al Wataeq, Al Mountafaa Bih Fi Anawazil*. My father loved Rabat and its beach. It was there he saw the sea for the first time in his life, coming from the other side of the Great Atlas, which climate change is now altering. It was at the Rabat beach that he learned to swim. Today, his grave overlooks that beautiful beach and ocean. His resting place is bathed in the sea air that blows continuously over the hilltop, the final abode of thousands of souls at rest, of lives both rich and less rich, and of memories forever lost. The cemetery tells a lot about the place we give to our dead, and it does not speak well of us. So, like my brothers and sisters—Jalil, Moughni, Rajae, Atika, Abdelmoutaleb, Elhoussein, Soumaya, I am a kind of accident of nature. A father from Ouarzazate marrying a girl from Fès; that was rare. It was 1950. The maternity hospital where my lungs filled for the first time with air and where I cried out announcing my coming to life is still there. It was Tuesday, 11:37 am, May 15, 1951. Each time I pass by, something brings me back to memories I have created from my mother's stories. I see again her pride and my father's joy at my birth. By chance, on the way to bury my mother, and years later my father, we passed along the Almohad wall. The historic maternity hospital of Rabat is just behind. The circle was thus completed. My mother's name was Lalla Amina Makhloufi and my father’s Ahmed Belhoucine El Ouarzazi. The civil registry attendant gave him the surname Daouda, probably because he was born in Sidi Daoud or simply because that person had been influenced by a stay in sub-Saharan Africa...