The royal train is an integral part of the legend surrounding Hassan II, mirroring the image of the late monarch: lavish, grandiose, and undeniably captivating. The origins of the train are shrouded in ambiguity, with many speculations and stories circulating. Some claim it was a gift from the Shah of Iran to his friend Hassan II, while others argue it came from Queen Elizabeth II. Possible, perhaps—but unverifiable. The only confirmed fact is that Hassan II’s train was commissioned from Budd Industries in the United States and delivered in the early 1980s, symbolizing yet another facet of his image as a « unifier. »
The train may seem rather outdated today, but back then, during the height of the Sahara War, the king used it as a way (in his own style) to connect with his people, traveling from Marrakech to Tangier via Rabat along the country’s rail network.
Don’t wake the sleeping train
Everything has obviously changed since then. The train is now just a relic of the past, as Mohammed VI used it very sparingly before ultimately (and perhaps permanently) assigning it to the Rabat-Agdal station depot. This decision was a relief to the thousands of daily rail users who had been caught for years in the disruptions caused by Hassan II’s frequent travels.
“It’s clear that Mohammed VI prefers fast, discreet transportation. It’s even said he’s aware of the financial strain the royal train places on ONCF (the National Railway Office) every time it’s set in motion,” a senior ONCF official told us, preferring to remain anonymous.
In fact, the only time Mohammed VI used his father’s train was early in his reign for a trip to Marrakech. “But shortly after it departed, the train had to make an abrupt stop due to a minor protocol issue—as if it were destined to remain Hassan II’s train forever,” our source continued, with a hint of nostalgia. Since that false start, the train, with its red and green colors adorned with the royal emblem on a silver background, has remained idle. “It sleeps,” summarized our contact.
To maintain the vehicle and prevent its « sudden demise, » the ONCF management regularly runs the royal train on short trips—just a few kilometers, empty of any passengers—before parking it back in the Rabat-Agdal station depot. It’s a sad sight. A telling sign: the label « Royal Train Directorate, » once displayed at the depot entrance, was removed some time ago, signaling the train’s relegation to history and an uncertain future.
« But curious onlookers should keep their distance. The depot is guarded by police, and special cameras are used to monitor the royal train, » assures our source. After all, one never knows—one day, the king may very well decide to use his father’s train again.
An extension of palaces and golf greens
The royal train consists of four self-propelled cars, each capable of operating independently. King Hassan II specifically requested that the cars be arranged to include an office furnished with mahogany furniture, and, most importantly, a sort of lounge at the rear to enjoy the passing scenery.
« The king turned his train into a true living space, as if it were an extension or annex of one of his palaces »
Traditionally, the process was as follows: before each royal trip, a team of police officers would handle all on-site checks. Once the safety cleaning was completed, the ONCF would provide a “special brigade” primarily composed of a train chief, an engineer, and an air conditioning specialist. All of these individuals were carefully selected. “Members of this brigade underwent lengthy background checks beforehand, and, for instance, all those who were unionized were avoided.”
Hassan II was generous (decorations, gifts, and other ikramiyate) with his railway workers, particularly the management of the ONCF and the special brigade at his disposal. “It must be said that the king turned his train into a true living space, as if it were an extension or annex of one of his palaces,” our source continues. With each trip, the monarch would take along ministers, advisors, and senior officials.
Like a golf green, the train also became a space for reflection and discussion. As recounted by a former royal advisor, “everything depended on His Majesty’s mood. The king could mingle with his ministers, hold genuine working sessions, or simply chat about the passage of time. But he could just as easily withdraw and summon, if necessary, one of his guests.”
As the sole master on board, Hassan II was strict about the discipline his crew members were required to observe. When he was secluded in “his quarters” at the rear of the train, no one was allowed to disturb him. Except, perhaps, for an old ONCF veteran, a whiz at air conditioning, who would allow himself to “disturb” the king privately.
The train rolls, life comes to a halt
When the king traveled by train, the level of paralysis was such that the entire ONCF, both staff and management, was literally devoted to his service. Nothing else seemed to exist. On the day of travel, all rail traffic was suspended hours in advance. And since the king could delay the departure time, the suspension of traffic could easily extend over time. Obviously, a return to normalcy was only possible once the royal train had reached its destination.
Towards the end of his reign, this « return to normalcy » occurred gradually. « The royal train has a cruising speed of up to 160 km/h, but Hassan II never wanted to travel faster than 90 km, » explains a retired ONCF executive.
« A police officer, or a gendarme, in addition to a mokhazni, were stationed every hundred meters for long hours. »
Long and costly were the journeys of the late monarch aboard his train, and the Office suffered significant losses due to the suspension of all traffic and the mobilization of its personnel. “We had strict orders to lock all the switches along the route. A police officer, or a gendarme, in addition to a mokhazni, were stationed every hundred meters for long hours,” recalls our interlocutor.
For the king’s route had to be entirely secure. Excessive? Perhaps, but the alignment of security agents along the route never prevented small incidents from occurring. For example, one day in the 1980s, during a slowdown near Souk Larbaâ on the Rabat-Tanger route, a young man miraculously managed to storm the royal train, evading all surveillance, and found himself suddenly face to face with Hassan II. Incredible.
“The boy was carrying a letter of grievances, and contrary to what one might expect, the king was magnanimous, forgiving the young man for his audacity.” Nevertheless, upon his return to Rabat, Hassan II immediately summoned Moussa Moussaoui, then director of the ONCF, and ordered the installation of windows at the rear of the train to make any further infiltration from the outside impossible.
For the king did not take security measures lightly. Fearing for his life since the two military coups at the dawn of the 1970s, Hassan II practiced the art of covering his tracks, regularly thwarting the routes of his movements, abruptly changing itineraries… or modes of transport at the last minute.
In fact, as explained by a retired police officer, “the king could easily change his mind and decide to travel by car rather than by train, just as he could delay or advance the timing of his departure and arrival.” This obviously complicated the task of the retinue of officials, agents, police officers, and dignitaries who were supposed to accompany the sovereign, welcome him, or simply clear the way.
But every misfortune has its silver lining, and the whims of the royal train could sometimes serve as an alibi for the ONCF. “We would sometimes tell passengers waiting for a delayed train that it was because of the royal train. It was like a magic formula; just saying it was enough to end any form of protest,” recalls a former inspector with a laugh.
The confusion surrounding the royal train was such that many unscrupulous individuals, officials or even dignitaries, took advantage of it “to disembark from the train armed with bags of food and luxury silverware,” recounts an ONCF executive. This is called looting, and the train, royal though it was, hardly escaped it.
A train and bowing
But all of this was nothing compared to the stress that could grip local authorities during the train’s passage. The stations it passed through were systematically repainted. Officials and dignitaries had to, without exception, don their traditional attire and position themselves on the platform, lined up for long hours of waiting, before bowing as the train passed by.
Surprises were always possible. Like when the gathering was misled by what the king’s railway workers call the “cleaning train,” a machine that was sent out to ensure that the tracks were 100% secure and that there were no obstacles along the route.
Another amusing incident, as our source recounts, was when “the train’s speed would send a tarbouch flying here, a turban flying there, forcing the unfortunate individuals to run back and forth to retrieve their headgear.” Rumors even circulated claiming that Hassan II, during this time, was not necessarily on the train, but was instead traveling by helicopter. Always this sense of detour, surprise, and security anxiety…
Today, we understand that the entire ceremony surrounding the royal train feels somewhat out of place. By abandoning it, Hassan II’s heir may be breaking with a certain image, customs, and traditions of the past. “But let’s hope the break lasts,” quips a rail user. As one can understand: the return of the royal train also means the accumulation of delays and the disruption of this separate compartment of our daily life: railway life. And all the accompanying disorder that comes with it.
Written in French by Mohammed Boudarham, edited in English by Eric Nielson
Archive: This article was published in issue 367 of TelQuel, from April 4 to April 10, 2009.
