Inside the Tanneries of Bab Debbagh.

The Truth of the Red City: Inside the Tanneries of Bab Debbagh.

Marrakech has been on my list for a long time. However, as a photographer, I have a rule: I don’t travel for postcard-perfect scenes or staged performances. I wanted to find real people, real work and the soul of the city.

This led me away from the polished riads and deep into the historic heart of the leather tanneries in the Bab Debbagh district.

A Sensory Wall

The moment you step inside the tanneries, the ‘tourist’ version of Morocco disappears. It is the air that hits you first. It is an intensely strong, heavy scent — a pungent mix of ammonia, pigeon droppings and wet, raw hides. In the 30°C heat, it isn’t just a smell, it’s a tangible presence.

At the entrance, I was handed a sprig of mint — a makeshift ‘mask’ to help survive the fumes. However, when I looked through the viewfinder of my Leica M10, I realised that to properly document this, I had to stop shielding myself from the environment and immerse myself in it.

The 24 mm perspective: No Room for Distance

I decided to take just one camera body and one lens: the M10 with a 24 mm lens.

In the tanneries, space is a luxury. The walkways between the stone vats are narrow and slippery with dye. Using a 24 mm lens forced me to get close — inches away from the terrible situations these men face daily. They stand waist-deep in vats of lime and indigo, their skin stained and their bodies worn out by labour that has remained unchanged for a thousand years.

The wide-angle lens allowed me to capture a worker in the foreground while still showing the pits stretching towards the horizon. This provides the necessary context: a single man against an ancient, brutal machine.

The technical reality of the heat

The Moroccan sun is unforgiving. It creates a world of high contrast, with blinding white limestone and inky black shadows in the pits.

I relied heavily on zone focusing. By setting my aperture to f/8 and pre-focusing at 2.5 metres, I didn’t have to adjust the rangefinder patch while standing on the edge of a dye vat. I could simply observe and shoot. The M10 sensor captured the vibrancy of the poppy-red and saffron-yellow dyes.

The Walk Back: A Shift in Perspective

As I left the tanneries, the ‘horrible’ scent clung to my clothes and the leather strap of my M10. It stayed with me as I walked back towards the bustling centre of the medina. As I walked back towards the bustling centre of the medina, I found the change in surroundings disorientating. I passed shop after shop filled with immaculate leather bags, belts, and jackets bathed in soft, flattering light.

Tourists haggled over prices, laughed and ran their hands over the smooth surfaces of the finished products. To them, these were just souvenirs. But to me, every piece of leather had a face now. Every dyed hide was a reminder of the 30°C heat, caustic vats, and men standing waist-deep in ‘the real stuff’. To truly understand Marrakech, you have to escape the ‘touristy stuff’. The city isn’t defined by its architecture alone, but by the resilience of the people working in these pits. That day, my Leica M10 wasn’t just a tourist’s toy — it was a witness to a difficult yet beautiful reality, unfiltered by the lens of tourism.

My Leica M10 had done its job. It didn’t just take pictures; it helped me to process the contrast between the luxury of the finished product and the harsh reality of its creation.

Final thought:

‘To discover the truth of a city, follow the smell of work, not the sound of music.’ I wanted to see the real Marrakech for a long time, and I found it in the 30°C heat of the tannery pits. The tanneries are the heart of this city: raw, hot and honest. Through the lens of the M10, I didn’t witness a performance; I observed the reality of everyday life. This is a reminder that the most beautiful things are often born from the hardest conditions.”

Thank you,