My hotel room rocked and shook violently. I hid in the wardrobe

The next morning, we headed for Marrakesh, just 60 kilometres away.

Two nights later, on Friday, we were staying in a modern hotel called 2Ciels in the “new” part of Marrakesh, Gueliz. We had been out to dinner in the medina, Marrakesh’s World Heritage ancient quarter, some of it dating to the 11th century. The small modest house was hidden behind multiple doors deep in the labyrinth of the medina.

Zineb was our hostess and she’d organised for a group of women, who call themselves Houariyate, to sing and play music for us. It was a raucous night. The women were powerful singers and percussionists, hilarious and raunchy, and it was so infectious everyone got up and danced with them.

After the earthquake hit, we heard that part of the medina had been destroyed. Zineb’s house had crumbled but she and her family were safe.

They weren’t so lucky in the Atlas Mountains. Chez Momo was reduced to rubble. At the time of writing, more than 2000 people have died, mostly in mountain villages where the houses are made of mud and stone. I’ve heard that villages such as Imlil have done better because the residents make a good income from tourism and can afford to build stronger houses.

Our Intrepid guide, Brahim Hanaoui, tells me that Houssine and his family are safe. As yet I don’t know the fates of the many lovely and generous people we met during our few days in the mountains –the young chefs at Atelier de Cuisine, a cooking school and academy in Tahnaout near the epicentre of the quake, or the people at Riad Jnane Imlil, a small and beautiful rustic hotel that is terraced down the slopes under Mount Toubkal and where we stayed for a night.

As we were leaving, the manager had asked us to write something about the hotel in TripAdvisor. I was going to give it five stars for its character and location.

I have heard that the three well-known luxury “kasbah” hotels in the region, Kasbah Tamidot, Kasbah du Toubkal and Kasbah Bab Ourika have sustained some damage. Mike McHugo, owner, with his brother Chris, of the vertiginous Kasbah du Toubkal (it starred in Martin Scorsese’s’ Kundun) is founder of Education For All, which helps girls from rural families get an education beyond primary school. Speaking to a gathering of travel operators and media at an event I attended on Sunday, he said that he had to cycle out of the property, as either that or walking was the only way to get out of the mountains.

When I was there last week, I wondered what people would do in case of an avalanche, as the slopes are normally covered in fallen boulders and shale. The scenes of people digging their families out of the rubble are heartbreaking, especially as it has been so difficult to get immediate help to them and there has been no electricity and water. The families have not been able to bury their bodies according to Muslim tradition, because there is no water to wash them.

Rescue teams are coming in from all over the world, but one of the biggest subjects of conversation here is that Morocco’s neighbour, Algeria, with which it has long-term disputes over territory, is allowing flights over its airspace to help the victims.

There has been a mass exodus of tourists from Marrakesh, even though things have been stable and operational since the weekend. On Monday I was told that part of the medina is being cordoned off to assess safety, but people have been shopping and eating there, perhaps not quite as normal, but because it’s necessary. People here are resolute but when you look into their eyes, there is sadness.

I decided to stay on for a few more days. I’ve moved hotels, to the very grand Royal Mansour, where I have my own three-level riad. The bed is on an upper level, which makes me nervous, so the first night I moved all my bedding down to the ground floor lounge. I wondered what the housekeeper would think of this, but the next morning they’d made up the temporary bed neatly. They understood.

People are still sleeping outdoors just in case there’s another quake or because they’ve lost their houses. But as the days go on, more seismic activity seems unlikely.

The situation is not without some humour. Some friends were staying in legendary hotel La Mamounia on the night of the quake and were instructed to sleep outside in the garden for safety. It’s one of Marrakesh’s most beautiful and fragrant gardens, so it didn’t seem a hardship. But the automatic sprinklers went on around 2 AM, they told me, and soaked everyone.

After the Intrepid tour I had planned to stay in Marrakesh to attend PURE Life Experiences, a travel show held annually in the city, which has a strong emphasis on travelling for good. It was cancelled over the weekend, but more than 400 delegates stayed on, feeling we could help by showing solidarity and sharing information about the status of the city.

Those of us who were left gathered under tents at Palais Namaskar to hear connected people like Mike McHugo speak. The weather has been beautiful and in many ways it reminds me of the sunny day of September 11 when planes flew over my head and into the World Trade Centre, almost 22 years ago to the day.

Before we arrived at the (now cancelled) conference gathering, delegates were taken to a large supermarket, where we stocked up on sacks of rice, oil, flour and other necessities, which would be distributed by the Travel Link Foundation to the mountain communities. People from Marrakesh were also out in force, filling trolleys with sacks, canned food and water to send to their suffering fellow Moroccans.

The Times and Sunday Times reporter Chris Haslem, who had just returned from the disaster zone, screened a video he had taken of the destruction in the villages. These images have gone around the world. But he told us something that struck more deeply with me, having spent time with these beautiful people.

Haslem’s driver, Hossaine, had repeatedly told him not to worry, that all was well with his own house, and he was happy to keep driving Haslem around. But when they finally reached the house, it was in ruins. Hossaine admitted he didn’t want to tell the truth because Haslem would think he was asking for money. “Their homes and livelihoods were in pieces in one minute, and they’re embarrassed about it,” Haslem says.

Haslem was forthright about the situation. “Poverty is what caused this. People can’t afford to build their houses with steel.” Sending immediate relief in terms of water and food is helpful in the short term, but what is needed for reconstruction and for a safer life for these villagers is cash. “Just give them your f---ing money,” he said.

A number of fund raisers have been set up to do just that. Intrepid travel has launched an emergency Morocco Earthquake Appeal, committing to double all donations, up to $100,000. All the funds will go directly to grassroots organisations to provide emergency support to its long-term NGO partners Education for All and the High Atlas Foundation, who are on the ground working with local communities. I visited these organisations last week and I can attest to the wonderful work they are doing.

When the news cycle is over, the most important thing any individual can do is visit Morocco. If tourists stay away, it will only prolong the recovery period. Authorities urge that we avoid the Atlas Mountains to preserve resources. (It’s extraordinary to hear that people are going up there in a misplaced sense they can help, or to take photos for their Instagram feeds.)

But Morocco, including Marrakesh, needs you more than ever. And believe me, you need it. It’s one of the most life-affirming countries on Earth.

The writer was a guest of Intrepid Travel.