I spent several days in Oualidia (Morocco) watching the same scene repeat itself: Fishing rods lined up facing the sea, hands working, in silence. Among the adults, there were also children. They were not always helping, but they were there: watching, imitating, waiting for their moment.

At first, I saw it as something ordinary, almost invisible. Just another routine within the landscape. But little by little, I began to notice the constant presence of the younger ones. No one seemed to be teaching them directly, and yet everything was being learned. It made me think about how certain ways of life are not chosen all at once, but gradually absorbed over time, through repetition and proximity. Before any decision is made, there is already an accumulation of knowledge, a direction that has been set.

As a tourist, it was easy to stay at the level of the image: the beach, the sun, the boats… but what struck me the most was not what was happening in any single moment, but what was being passed on without being said. The children were not being instructed, corrected or guided in any explicit way. There were no explanations, no demonstrations set apart from the activity itself. Learning seemed to happen through presence; by standing close enough, long enough, until gestures became familiar and movements slowly made sense.

This piece was originally published in Issue 1 of the print edition of Ordinary Matters magazine.