Rachid*, former head of a construction company in the Casablanca region

« At 45, I had built a successful SME in the construction sector, with an annual turnover exceeding 20 million dirhams. I employed nearly 80 people, half on permanent contracts and the other half on temporary contracts depending on project demands. I was proud of my journey, despite the inevitable ups and downs of an entrepreneurial career. However, things took a difficult turn a few years ago.

In 2018, I secured a major construction project for a prominent real estate development company. With over a decade of experience and a solid reputation, I felt confident about handling the contract. To fulfill the order, I had to rely on several regular suppliers, issuing them checks as guarantees to ensure the delivery of necessary materials. Since the project was large, I couldn’t fund the entire operation with my own resources and wanted to ensure everything was done right. It was a mistake that cost me dearly.

Despite completing the project, the developer never paid me. The checks I had given my suppliers bounced, leading to a series of banking incidents. The situation worsened with the COVID crisis: my suppliers, struggling themselves, could no longer wait and began cashing the checks one after another. Meanwhile, with reduced activity, I had no incoming cash flow to meet my financial obligations.

The cases were taken to court, and I watched as all my equipment, my premises, and my company bank account were seized. I was sentenced to 18 months in prison. It was total devastation—everything I had built over the years was reduced to nothing. My wife and children bore the consequences of my imprisonment, facing a drastically reduced standard of living. I also had to witness the distress of my employees, who I had to let go suddenly. It still weighs on me today.

I was released a few months ago and am now trying to start over from scratch. But it’s incredibly difficult. I have no professional experience outside construction, and trust is everything in this field. Once it’s lost, it’s nearly impossible to regain. My former suppliers no longer trust me, and I have to work hard to rebuild my reputation.

I take full responsibility for issuing the checks, but my intention was always to repay them once I received payment. Unfortunately, the greed and poor judgment of the real estate developer destroyed my professional life. That large company managed to recover and bounce back, but for a small business like mine, with fewer resources and influence, the damage has been far more difficult to repair. »

Zakaria*, 29 years old, former owner of a gaming center in northern Morocco

« Since I was young, I’ve always had big ambitions. Working for others wasn’t for me; I wanted to be free and in control of my life. Even without much formal education, I was resourceful, taking on small jobs that allowed me to save a significant amount of money. With the support of my loved ones, I decided to pursue entrepreneurship.

Passionate about video games, I wanted to turn that passion into a career. In my small town, there was no real entertainment center for young people. So, I decided to open a gaming space where teenagers could gather and have fun. I rented a large, two-story space and carefully designed it, equipping it with the latest gaming systems. I also hired five people to help manage the space, serve customers, and keep the place clean.

We opened two years before COVID, and business was going great. There was a real need in the community, and we were meeting it. However, the pandemic completely disrupted our plans. When the lockdown hit in 2020, we had to shut down overnight. Revenue stopped completely while rent and bills piled up. Even after restrictions eased, gathering limits prevented us from reopening until the end of the year, as our space was primarily a social hub.

During that time, I exhausted all my savings. My employees, who were also friends, were left without work, and we all went through a difficult period together.

When we finally reopened in 2021, I was hopeful we could recover. But things took an unexpected turn. The landlord of the space I was renting proposed becoming my business partner. I politely declined, wanting to remain independent. He didn’t take it well, and I sensed some hostility.

A few months later, the same landlord opened a larger, more modern gaming center directly across from mine. He had the resources to make it happen. It was a fatal blow to my business. In our small town, there simply wasn’t room for two similar ventures. Attendance at my space dropped drastically.

After holding on for another year, I had no choice but to close in January, unable to cover my expenses. Out of spite, this person destroyed my dream. I felt so ashamed that I left my town. Now, I’m working in the restaurant industry in another city. I feel unmotivated, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to bounce back. »

Ahmed*, 42 years old, former owner of an agricultural equipment company

« I come from a family of farmers and had always dreamed of becoming an entrepreneur. When I decided to start my own business, my goal was to help the farmers around me. I created a company specializing in agricultural equipment, aiming to modernize their processes to improve yields and reduce water consumption—an essential concern given the persistent drought.

The state supported these initiatives with subsidies covering up to 80% of the costs, which allowed us to convince many farmers to adopt our solutions. We purchased and installed the equipment while assisting farmers with the administrative procedures required to secure the financial support, which in turn enabled them to pay us afterward.

For several years, everything went well. We were making profits and felt we were contributing positively to both the sector and the country. However, as drought periods became more frequent, demand surged—normally a positive development for our business—but it clashed with Morocco’s infamous bureaucracy.

Over several months, we committed to numerous farmers and invested heavily in equipment. However, subsidy requests started piling up and were delayed for months, with some cases left unresolved for over a year. As a result, the farmers couldn’t pay us, our debts to suppliers grew, and they eventually stopped providing us with materials for new projects.

I could no longer afford to pay my employees or cover operational costs, while supplier debts continued to accumulate. Eventually, I had to make the difficult decision to liquidate the business. I tried to settle as many debts as possible before declaring bankruptcy.

Today, I find myself at a crossroads, feeling lost. I’m taking time to reflect on my future: Should I try to restart in the same industry, explore a new sector, or give up on entrepreneurship entirely? Who would hire me at my age? »

Written in French by Safae Hadri, edited in English by Eric Nielson