At 5 a.m., Joulya Azmi zipped her suitcase shut for the last time in Bordeaux, France. The Franco-Moroccan nurse had spent nine years in France – slogging through night shifts, dodging microaggressions, and saving every spare euro. Her decision to leave wasn’t made in a fit of nostalgia. “I am not running away,” she says. “I am running towards something.”
What was once a land of departure is now, improbably, a land of return. Remittances from Moroccans residing abroad (MREs) surged to MAD 117.7 billion ($11.8 billion USD) in 2023 – nearly a tenth of the country’s GDP. But the figures tell only half the story. Behind them is a quiet revolution: professionals, creatives, and entrepreneurs are ditching Europe’s frigid welcome and betting on Morocco’s warmer future.
Azmi, 29, is among a swelling cohort of returnees driven not by nostalgia, but by hard-headed pragmatism. “I left Morocco for economic reasons,” she says. “But today, I’m thinking of returning for the same reasons.”
Money in, but nothing out
Remittances flow into Africa by the billions, yet much of that money vanishes into daily consumption. Morocco, despite its ballooning inflows, remains an underperformer when it comes to turning diaspora cash into local growth.
The bulk – some 60% – was spent on food, schooling and bills. Another 30% went into bank accounts or under mattresses, doing little to stimulate enterprise. The result: remittances soothe family life, but seldom stir the economy.
Compare that with Nigeria and Kenya, where diaspora money is more likely to beget growth. An estimated 45% of remittances to Nigeria, and 35% to Kenya, are reinvested into productive ventures. That includes land, property, farming and retail. In Nigeria, the so-called “remittance house” has become a fixture in many villages – a migrant’s long-distance contribution to the homeland’s bricks and mortar.
Part of the discrepancy lies in how money is used and trusted. Nigerian and Kenyan recipients often funnel funds directly into family businesses. Moroccan households, by contrast, prefer to save or spend.
The culprit, as ever, is bureaucracy. Schemes like MDM Invest, designed to lure diaspora dirhams into productive ventures, have languished. By mid-2022, a paltry 48 projects had trickled through the pipeline. Investment channels remain opaque, clunky, and off-putting. For many would-be investors, Morocco still feels easier to wire money into than to build something within.
A new breed of investors
Despite these hurdles, some forge ahead. Mohamed Benzakour, a 32-year-old IT consultant, exemplifies this entrepreneurial spirit. After a solitary and restrictive lockdown in Paris, he returned to Morocco three years ago. “During the pandemic, I was trapped in a shoebox apartment, isolated from my family,” he recalls. “Coming back to Morocco was a chance to start afresh.”
Today, Benzakour is building his future in Morocco, running a web development agency that employs a local Moroccan team. “In Morocco, there’s an infectious sense of possibility,” he says. “People believe in you here, and that’s rare in the West.” He also believes that Morocco has uncharted potential and an environment where his entrepreneurial dreams can finally take flight.
Similarly, Omar Berrada, 40, spent over two decades in the Netherlands, is now preparing to open a restaurant in Morocco. “The country I left behind twenty years ago has transformed,” he says. “Now, it’s about thriving, not just surviving.” These returnees are not merely seeking to invest in their futures but also to contribute to the economy of the Kingdom.
Reconnecting with identity
Yet for many, the return is less about profit than about provenance. Years spent navigating Europe’s froideur have eroded more than bank balances – they’ve frayed a sense of self. Coming home is, for some, an act of cultural restoration.
Myriam Laaboudi, whose family returned from Belgium five years ago, describes her return as a “homecoming.” “In Europe, we were constantly judged for who we were,” she says. “But in Morocco, people are warm, accepting. It’s a place where I can finally breathe.”
For many, Morocco represents a place to live – and to belong. This sense of cultural and emotional reconnection is a profound motivator for many in the diaspora who see this return as more than just an economic move – but also a deeply personal one.
What’s holding Morocco back?
But enthusiasm alone won’t plug the institutional leaks. Morocco’s bureaucracy remains a buzzkill. Fragmented incentives, Byzantine paperwork, and lukewarm support continue to stifle diaspora investment.
To avoid squandering this wave of returning talent and capital, Morocco needs more than slogans. It needs policy clarity, simplified procedures, and a shift in mindset.
So unless Morocco fixes the pipes, the flow of capital – and talent – may soon dry up again.
