The movie follows Imlil, who becomes one of the world’s most wanted hackers after breaching the database of a powerful pharmaceutical conglomerate to help COVID-19 patients access affordable treatment. Captured by Interpol and handed over to Moroccan authorities, he strikes a deal to work for the police’s cybercrime unit. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he uncovers his family’s supernatural lineage, unlocking his powers and transforming into Atoman—which means “man of the wind” in the Amazigh language. As he learns to harness his abilities, he must confront dangerous forces seeking to control the planet.

Filming took place across Morocco, France, and several sub-Saharan countries, featuring an international cast of actors from Morocco, Mali, France, and Belgium. The lead role of Atoman is played by French-Moroccan rapper Youssef Akdim, known as Lartiste. The film’s breathtaking landscapes, from the Atlas Mountains to bustling cities, serve as a visually striking backdrop that reinforces the movie’s deep cultural ties to Amazigh history and identity.

Mouatassim and his team describe Atoman as a milestone for African cinema, aiming to break barriers and redefine the superhero genre by showcasing an Amazigh hero. Inspired by Black Panther, the film highlights Amazigh and Moroccan heritage through its costumes, set designs, and music, offering a fresh representation of North African mythology.

“This idea, entirely new to Moroccan cinema, took its time to mature,” Mouatassim stated. “It’s a dream come true.”

With its compelling mix of mythology, action, and cultural pride, Atoman, Wind Rider is not only an entertaining cinematic experience but also a significant step in bringing Amazigh storytelling to the global stage.

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While the language and precise dating of the stele remain uncertain, experts believe this discovery could provide valuable insights into historical interactions between North Africa and southern Spain. If confirmed as an early form of Tifinagh, the finding would further highlight the deep roots of Amazigh culture beyond North Africa.

Researchers are now working to analyze the inscriptions, hoping to unlock new knowledge about the ancient peoples who once inhabited the region.

His academic journey began at the Faculty of Letters of Algiers, where he worked from 1973 to 1981. His dedication to Amazigh  linguistics led him to become a professor of Berber language at the Institut National des Langues et Civilisations Orientales (INALCO) between 1977 and 1979, and again from 1988 to 2008. His career continued at Aix-Marseille University (1981-1988, 2008-2018), where he played a crucial role in introducing and institutionalizing Berber language studies.

Salem Chaker is a specialist in descriptive and historical linguistics of Amazigh. His work has significantly contributed to the academic recognition and preservation of the Amazigh language. During his tenure at INALCO, he helped strengthen Amazigh studies by establishing the Centre of Amazigh research, a center dedicated to Amazigh language, history, and culture.

Salem Chaker has authored numerous significant works in Berber linguistics, syntax, and historical studies. His notable books include Un parler berbère d’Algérie (Kabylie): Syntaxe (1983), which provides an in-depth analysis of Kabyle syntax, and Textes en linguistique berbère (1984), an introduction to the field of Berber linguistics. He collaborated on Textes touaregs en prose de Charles de Foucauld (1984), a critical edition of Tuareg prose. His bibliographic study Une décennie d’études berbères (1980-1990) (1992) explores language, literature, and identity. In Linguistique berbère: Études de syntaxe et de diachronie (1995), he examines Berber syntax and historical linguistics.

His more recent works include Berbères aujourd’hui: Kabyles et Berbères : luttes incertaines (2022), which discusses contemporary Amazigh struggles, and Diachronie Berbère: Linguistique historique et libyque (2024), which delves into the historical aspects of Amazigh linguistics. He also contributed to Le dictionnaire Tamazight du Maroc central, an electronic dictionary based on Arsène Roux’s archives, accessible online. His extensive research has played a vital role in the preservation and advancement of Berber studies.

Chaker’s contributions extend beyond academia; he has been an advocate for Amazigh cultural recognition and linguistic rights. His research and teachings have shaped the modern understanding of Berber linguistics, ensuring that the language is not only studied but also revitalized for future generations.

His work continues to inspire students, researchers, and Amazigh activists, making him one of the most influential figures in Berber linguistic studies today.

Dating back to the Bronze Age, approximately between the 3rd and early 1st millennia BC, this discovery sheds light on the development of early communities in the area.

The findings include artifacts that suggest a complex society with distinct cultural practices, providing valuable information about the social and economic structures of the time. This discovery not only enhances our understanding of the Western Rif’s role in ancient civilizations but also contributes to the broader history of human settlement in North Africa.

Researchers are excited about the potential to uncover more about the lives of those who lived in this region thousands of years ago.

Just a few minutes later, I saw Jugurtha portrayed by a Black actor. This was disappointing to me. I understand that movies are not documentaries, and directors take creative liberties. For example, adding sharks to the Colosseum might not be historically accurate, but it can still be entertaining. However, casting a Black actor to play Jugurtha—a distinctly Berber historical figure—felt like an extension of an Afro-centrist narrative that erases North Africa’s indigenous identity.

The same issue arose with the portrayal of Macrinus, —a name which being derived from the Amazigh word Mukran, meaning “the chief” or “the elder,—. Both Jugurtha and Macrinus were Amazigh from Western North Africa, yet Ridley Scott cast Black actors for their roles. It was even more frustrating to see Macrinus—who was a skilled and strategic emperor—depicted as a hateful character. The film falsely claimed that he was a former slave (which he was not) and that he killed Geta to seize power.

In reality, Geta was killed by his own brother, Caracalla, during a power struggle. Caracalla himself was later assassinated by a soldier named Justin Martialis. Gladiator 2 ignored these historical facts entirely. Additionally, the film reduced Macrinus’s reign to less than a day, when in reality, he ruled for nearly a year in a significant period of Roman history.

As a North African and a Amazigh, what message am I supposed to take from this? That to become an emperor or an African ruler, one must first be a slave? That if a North African does rise to power, it must be through deceit or violence, and that their rule will be short-lived? These portrayals are not just historically inaccurate; they reinforce troubling stereotypes.

Beyond this, the film’s depiction of Berbers was lazy and inaccurate. They were shown speaking Arabic—a language that did not exist in North Africa at the time—and even using Islamic references, despite Islam not yet existing in that era. Their clothing also resembled Middle Eastern or desert attire rather than authentic Amazigh garments.

Hollywood continues to ignore the true identity of North Africans, often portraying us as either Arabs or Black Africans when we are neither. This disregard for historical accuracy and cultural authenticity is not just disappointing—it is a disservice to our heritage and history.

Dating back dozens of years, the manuscripts highlight the enduring presence of the Tifinagh script, a cornerstone of Amazigh identity across the Sahel. For centuries, the Tuareg have safeguarded their language and customs through such writings, preserving a legacy that remains under threat in modern times.

The footage underscores the cultural and historical significance of these texts, reinforcing the need for greater efforts to protect and promote Amazigh heritage. As globalization and regional instability pose challenges to indigenous knowledge systems, such rare artifacts serve as a powerful reminder of the resilience and rich history of the Tuareg people

In 2013, he released a compilation of songs recorded in Tchintabaraden, Niger, further cementing his presence in the Tuareg music scene. Today, he balances performing at local weddings in Agadez with sold-out shows in venues like the Sinclair in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Moctar, along with other artists contributing to the international expansion of Tuareg music, reaches starkly different audiences. From Niger to North America, Tuareg music has found its place in a variety of local and global music scenes. However, many Western listeners may not fully grasp the political and social messages embedded in the music. Often, the genre is viewed through a romanticized lens, overshadowing its deeper historical and cultural significance.

Eric J. Schmidt, Assistant Director of the African Studies Center at Boston University and a Ph.D. in ethnomusicology, highlights the marketing strategies that shape perceptions of Tuareg artists. “A lot of it has to do with the music industry’s marketing,” he notes. Like many Tuareg musicians signed by French or American labels, Mdou Moctar’s social media presence is largely managed by Western representatives. Schmidt explains that the industry constructs narratives that, while not entirely false, often distort or exaggerate aspects of Tuareg culture. “There are these evocative phrases that people use—it’s part of what drew me to it in the first place.”

Western fascination with Tuareg music often parallels the American legacy of rock ‘n’ roll as a form of protest music. As Schmidt points out, “Rock ‘n’ roll was once seen as rebellious, and now you have musicians who have participated in actual rebellions.”

Tuaregs from Niger and Mali share complex political histories, though their struggles have evolved differently. The internationally renowned band Tinariwen, founded by Ibrahim Ag Alhabib from Tessalit, paved the way for emerging Tuareg artists. While not all Tuareg musicians come from backgrounds of resistance fighters—unlike Ag Alhabib, who witnessed his father’s execution at age four and later fought in Libya—Tinariwen’s impact on Tuareg music has been profound. Their lyrics, often centered on exile, have positioned them as symbols of Tuareg struggle.

Schmidt writes, “The group’s growing fame paved the way for many other Tuareg acts to achieve international recognition, such as Terakaft, Tamikrest, Bombino, Mdou Moctar, and Koudede.”

Benjamin Minniear, a dedicated fan of Moctar’s latest album Ilana (The Creator), recalls how he discovered Tuareg music. “Prior to finding Mdou Moctar, I listened to Tinariwen, starting with their Amassakoul album, then Emmaar and Elwan.”

Niger has produced its own legends, from the late Abdallah Ag Oumbadougou to Bombino. As newer artists emerge, their music increasingly reflects the nomadic life of the Tuareg people. Moctar’s performances transcend borders, introducing American audiences to the genre. On March 28, he played at Mass MoCA’s Solid Sound Festival. Bill Crosby, a front-row attendee, shared his excitement: “I was really eager to hear Mdou Moctar play… I’m a fan of Tinariwen, Ali Farka Touré, and Mahmoud Guinia, so the syncopated rhythms weren’t new to me.” Contrary to the assumption that American audiences stumble upon Tuareg concerts by chance, many attendees are deeply familiar with the genre.

The term ishumar describes the music of young, uprooted Tuareg men who traveled from town to town with their guitars. Derived from the French word chômeur (unemployed), ishumar became a defining label for the generation of musicians following Tinariwen’s rise. While Moctar’s style leans towards electrified rock rather than traditional “desert blues,” he continues the ishumar legacy of using music as a tool for empowerment.

In the mid-1980s, Tuareg activists, allied with the son of Niger’s first post-independence president, attempted a rebellion in Tchintabaraden, Moctar’s hometown. More serious insurrections followed in the 1990s, coinciding with Niger’s shift towards democracy after decades of French-backed authoritarian rule. Yvan Guichaoua, a researcher on Tuareg insurgencies, notes in his publication Circumstantial Alliances and Loose Loyalties in Rebellion Making: The Case of Tuareg Insurgency in Northern Niger, that these events shaped Tuareg identity and activism. Understanding this historical backdrop enriches the listening experience for Moctar’s fans. Yet, as Minniear points out, the music itself often conveys emotion beyond language. “Even without understanding the lyrics, the vocal inflections and harmonies speak to me.”

Younger generations of Tuareg musicians, particularly those following in the footsteps of Bombino and Mdou Moctar, prove that the genre isn’t limited to slow, meditative melodies—it also thrives at faster tempos. Fortunately, many Tuareg artists with Western PR representation manage to attract global audiences without relying on the orientalist tropes sometimes found in media portrayals.

Kendra Amalie, a fan whose artwork was reposted on Moctar’s Instagram page, shares how she discovered his music: “When Anar came out in 2014, a friend introduced me to Sahel Sounds. I started following Mdou Moctar and buying his music. He’s among my top three favorite contemporary guitarists.” Amalie’s story highlights how Tuareg music serves as an entry point for Western audiences to learn about the Tuareg people and their culture. “I only learned about the Tuareg people after coming across Sahel Sounds and Mdou Moctar.”

Contemporary Tuareg music has evolved beyond traditional tisiwit—a form of classical poetry sung solo or accompanied by the anzad, a one-stringed violin played by women. Amalie reflects on her concert experiences: “I’ve seen Mdou Moctar twice and Les Filles de Illighadad once. It’s celebratory and electrifying. So much modern music feels sterile and pretentious—Tuareg concerts bring back the magic.”

The atmosphere of Tuareg performances in Niger is markedly different from those in the U.S. In Niger, concerts are often organized informally, with locals inviting musicians personally. Outdoor performances draw crowds organically, unlike in the U.S., where events are scheduled in advance, and tickets are purchased online.

Audience engagement also differs. In Agadez and Niamey, women often request jagwa, a style of music played for Mauritanian dance at bridal parties. Schmidt notes, “In most cases, Tuareg groups perform jagwa themselves, particularly versions by Bombino and Mdou Moctar.”

Some of Moctar’s songs draw inspiration from Islamic heritage, which contrasts with the often rowdy, alcohol-fueled crowds at Western concerts. This cultural dissonance is an inevitable aspect of performing beyond one’s home region. Yet, despite these differences, the bridge between Tuareg artists and their international fans continues to strengthen. Minniear, eager to see Moctar live, expresses his admiration: “His playing is almost hypnotic. I know what’s coming after listening so many times, but I can’t miss it. I plan to see him this spring when he comes to Iowa City for the Mission Creek Festival.”

From intimate gatherings in Niger to grand festivals in the U.S., Mdou Moctar remains an integral part of the evolving Tuareg music continuum.