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This image, Parabomobile, shows a living sculpture I created. A man is riding through the desert on a road near Marrakech that is still partly under construction. He rides a Peugeot 103 motorcycle and carries 21 satellite dishes – each pointing in a different direction. But the person driving the motorbike is so overstimulated, he cannot choose which way to go – and ends up going nowhere.
It is part of a wider multidisciplinary project, Paraboles, that is an inquiry into Moroccan people’s identity, our imagination and the way we see the world. It can feel to Moroccans – and those in other postcolonial countries – that their minds have been colonised as well as their land.
I grew up in Rabat, in a diplomatic family. My grandpa had a key role in the French Protectorate (1912-56). I attended a French school where everything we learned was European. Back then there were not many good universities in Morocco, and we always knew we would go to study abroad. I lived in Paris for 10 years, and it made me realise a lot of things about Morocco that I didn’t see when I was living there.
When I returned and started looking around my country, I saw satellite dishes everywhere. These objects crystallised something about this past century, and I decided to use the satellite to create a whole fiction, a Hertzian Republic – named after the hertz, the unit of frequency of radio waves. In this republic, people in exile go in search of a better future, but that hope is a mirage.
The project includes texts, installations and a short film in which we see people going on a pilgrimage to places they have seen on their screens. I also created goat-skin passports – goat skin is a material with a special significance in nomadic cultures in Morocco. The passport closes when the material is cold and opens when it’s hot. I even invented a language related to the 72-megahertz waves sent from satellites in Morocco, with 72 corresponding letters: my own sacred book with its own code. And I thought I should also create transportation for my imaginary republic.
The Peugeot 103 motorcycle is iconic in Morocco. In the 1990s, it became a symbol of modern Morocco and social mobility. I decided to use one from that decade, which is when my fictional narrative takes place, and I transformed it with the satellite dishes. This image and this project were a way to remind us of the things we forget to see; how we don’t always want to see what’s happening in the present.
I returned to Morocco a year ago. The country is moving so fast – it’s inspiring. It is a fascinating place. It is very unified, although some people in the north might speak Spanish but not a word of French, we speak different dialects of Amazigh and Darija. The cultures are so different but at the same time, we feel close to each other, we feel like a nation. Language is a big part of my questioning as an artist: the way words carry concepts and make us think differently. In Darija, you never miss a train – the train leaves you behind. When you’re ill, it’s the cold that hit you.
My truth is in between two cultures: French and Moroccan. The questions that most interest me stem from this. How we shape ourselves with our beliefs, and what gives us a sense of direction in life. It is one of the most mystical things about being human.
Hiba Baddou’s CV
Born: Rabat, Morocco
High point: The Dakar Biennale in 2024 and winning the Saatchi Art for Change prize in the same year was a major moment of recognition, it made me believe this work could go wider and speak to people of different cultures. Also my recent solo show at the Macaal in Marrakech – my biggest institutional exhibition to date
Top tip: Keep your eyes open all the time
