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Kenitra
Kenitra (Moroccan Arabic: قْنيطره, Qniṭra; Arabic: القنيطرة, al-qonayṭéra, the little bridge; Berber: Qniṭra, ⵇⵏⵉⵟⵔⴰ) is a city in northern Morocco, formerly (1932–1956) known as Port Lyautey. It is a port on the Sbu river, has a population in 2014 of 431,282, is one of the three main cities of the Rabat-Salé-Kénitra region and the Chef-lieu of the Province of Kénitra. During the Cold War Kenitra's U.S. Naval Air Facility served as a stopping point in North Africa.
History
Ancient History
The history of the city begins with the foundation of a trading-post by the Phoenicians, known back then as Thamusida. Under the Antonine dynasty, a Venus temple was built there.
Before the French protectorate, there was only a kasbah in the area where the modern city can today be found.
French Protectorate and modern times
In March 1912 the French government and the Sultan of Morocco, Abd al-Hafid, signed the Treaty of Fez. Because of his growing unpopularity, the Sultan asked the French government for protection against the Berber rebel tribes surrounding Fez. France appointed Hubert Lyautey resident-general in Morocco.
Radio Stations - Kenitra Province
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Podcasts:
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Candiria
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Kane Hodder
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by Gene Autry
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by Gene Autry
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by Gene Autry
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by Gene Autry
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by Gene Autry
Dead Bury The Dead
by: CandiriaYou suffocate all
You're dying so await your fall
You're begging like a pig for crumbs
So lick the plate clean until your lips are cold and
numb
Off with your own head. Change your footsteps.
Why do you choose to bury your father and sons?
Let the dead bury the dead; your father and sons
The dead bury the dead.
The knife is to your own neck. Follow me.
Taste the life. Leave all that is dead behind.
Dead bury the dead.
I am wretched skin in vain but I will not collapse
My foundations will not crumble or see decay
When the last candle burns out will you find your way?
Will you stumble? Will you regret your path; your name?
The dead bury the dead again, again, again.
Bury the dead.
The knife is to your own neck. Follow me.
Taste the life. Leave all that is dead behind.
Dead bury the dead.
Are you dying from inside?
Are you suffering?
Progress is a choice in life.
Face down, don't turn your back on me.
Where's your dedication? Your fight?
The annihilation of your pride.
I want! I want! I need! I need! and I want!
I want for you to open up your eyes
Envision all that is unseen.
You will follow all that is revealed.
You will follow because your light is growing dim.