26th day, may 11th 2023

Midelt Hospital

I wake up slowly, still a little disoriented, wondering where I am and what brought me here. The night was calm, pain-free, which is a real relief. Barely awake, Ussama is already there, attentive and caring. He has a motorcycle too or rather a scooter and soon returns with my breakfast.

Shortly after, the director of Midelt hospital makes a notable entrance into my room, accompanied by a small army of doctors, head nurses, and other staff. Once again, I’m struck by the warmth and friendliness of Moroccans. He begins by sincerely apologising for the conditions I’m in, clearly embarrassed. Then he tells me that, contrary to what I was told before, I can stay here as long as necessary. He promises to personally handle my medication and provide me with crutches.

I mention the Touring Club Switzerland (TCS), who are organising my repatriation along with my motorcycle. He asks how I plan to transport my boots and riding gear. I hadn’t thought about it yet, but immediately he fetches a large suitcase left behind by a former patient, perfect for storing my equipment.

In no time, I receive my crutches and medication: paracetamol and codeine.

My roommate, meanwhile, is due to leave soon. He’s in much more pain than I am, which makes me feel a little unfair. The head nurse explains that he has family to care for him, whereas I’m on my own and maybe that’s better this way.

They come to fetch me for another X-ray of my foot. The radiology staff can’t help but laugh, probably because I’m the first foreign patient they’ve treated. This cheerful atmosphere is truly endearing.

The surgeon returns, accompanied by Mustafa, likely a nurse. He hands me his report, handwritten on a simple sheet, no computer here. They leave, and a cleaner comes in with bleach, its strong smell filling the air.

I take a photo of the report and send it to the TCS. An hour later, they confirm that tomorrow morning, between 9 and 10, a driver will come to take me to Casablanca, where I’ll spend the night near the airport. My bike will be transported by truck. My flight is booked for Saturday, business class, so there’ll be enough room for my leg. I also have confirmation of an organised transfer from Geneva to Bern.

I spend the day listening to music and packing my suitcase with my riding gear. Mustafa stops by regularly to check on me. I give him my bike keys and ask him to collect a few personal items.

The day ends with a meal brought by my “attendant,” and I fall asleep peacefully.