South of Marrakesh, in the middle of Sadek Tazi’s garden centre, Palm Orchids, stand sundry reed structures called mudhifs. Such buildings – the name translates as ‘place of hospitality’ – originally hail from the Mesopotamian Marshes in Southern Iraq, though these particular ones came about through trial and error with the help of Mahjoub Dhili, a local craftsman of natural fibres.
Although Sadek was not academic, he studied agronomy in New York and travelled widely from a young age. Back in Morocco, he made ends meet by working in the fishing industry, but the modest beehives and orchids at the end of his garden always made him think fondly of his grandmother, who taught him about plants, and dream bigger. He decided to drop everything and open his first nursery, Casabotanica, in Casablanca and then this second one, Palm Orchids, in 1993 in Marrakesh. Since then he has grown more than 3,000 plants, drawn from around the world, in the process contributing greatly to Moroccan biota. For the latter venture, he used permaculture and vermicompost as well as solar energy, and watched with joy as snakes, tortoises, hedgehogs and birds returned to the land.
Inquisitive and well-informed, Sadek came across these mudhifs by chance when reading one day. In Morocco, reeds grow around the edges of seguias, small irrigation canals criss-crossing the countryside – particularly in the oases. He found an accomplice in Mahjoub, who was excited by the project. Highly knowledgeable about vegetable fibres, he has made fences and furniture from them, and also works in the vineyards. Together, they made a slightly clumsy first attempt, which then led to their second creation, a smaller but very charming structure on a water-lily pond, large enough for Sadek to enjoy lunch in, or to accommodate a bed and mosquito net when night falls.
His late mother, Tami Tazi, a renowned stylist who convinced Yves Saint Laurent to use Moroccan embroidery in his shows, was overcome with enthusiasm and commissioned Sadek to design a special mudhif for her own garden, where she would host all of Marrakesh, it seemed. This inspired her son, eight years after his first attempts, to build his first large mudhif at Palm Orchids, where he could throw official dinners, exhibitions, parties, meetings and all sorts of other celebrations.
It was no small feat: the two men used the local Arundo donax reed, less waterproof but probably more flexible than the phragmite of the Mesopotamian Marshes. The building has four entrances and is four metres tall, with a surface area of 120 square metres. The two builders had to include a metal support in anticipation of storms when there are several hundred guests inside (strictly speaking, more authentic mudhifs do not use any metal).
The framework of the building is formed of reeds gathered into six bundles reminiscent of the ribs of a large whale, the thickest of which has a diameter of one metre. Others are braided into geometrical screens for the roof and walls, allowing for ventilation. The two gables are decorated with columns.
Despite climate change, political uncertainties and the march of time, these remarkable structures – with natural temperature regulation and no carbon footprint – still proliferate in the marshes of Southern Iraq, just as they did 7,000 years ago. Between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, where Sumer, Babylon and Uruk could once be found, remains suggest mudhifs perhaps existed in the Garden of Eden or at the birthplace of Abraham, both said to have been located here.
In the Mesopotamian Marshes, large mudhifs are used as town halls, mosques or party venues, while the smaller ones serve as houses for self-sufficient families. They were traditionally built on
man-made (and -maintained) islands, surrounded by water buffalo swimming in the mud, which the Ma’dan people would trade along with reeds and fish. The lack of roads means they navigate their world in small, slender boats.
Despite enduring for millennia, the Ma’dan are vulnerable. By building dams to drain the marshes in the 1980s, Saddam Hussein forced many to flee. He claimed to be looking for dissidents and potential deserters, as fugitives of all kinds had always found refuge here, far removed from power and urban life. The impact on an ecosystem that has existed for centuries was disastrous, and has been exacerbated by dam-building in surrounding regions. Without water, the people of the marshes will eventually disappear.
In his own humanist way, with these strange constructions from another time, Sadek Tazi is honouring ancient traditions, just as he is preserving plant species, some of which, without him, would surely no longer exist.
Palm Orchids, P2012, Marrakesh 40000. Ring 00 212 5 25 06 05 77, or visit Instagram @palmorchids
A version of this article appears in the July 2026 issue of ‘The World of Interiors’. Learn about our subscription offers. Sign up for our bi-weekly newsletter, and be the first to receive exclusive stories like this one, direct to your inbox
