I had had a rough night coughing so we agreed on going to the town hospital for a diagnostic. At the entrance stood a man dressed in a suite finishing a telephone conversation. Right away Travaini noticed that he was speaking in Spanish. “Do you speak Spanish,” he asked the man. “Yes, I have been living eleven years in Cuba and my wife is Cuban. As a matter of fact there are several Cuban doctors here. What about you,” the man who appeared to be the hospital director, asked. “I am Mario and from Argentina and this is Helle, she's from Denmark,” Travaini replied. “Oh, Argentina, it is an honour to meet you. When I lived in Cuba I felt the huge respect Cubans has for Argentina and Che Guevara. I myself have big admiration for Che,” he said clearly moved.

We meet another doctor and the hospital director told him what we had told him. While the other doctor examined me, I could hear the two of them exchange memories of Cuba and Che Guevara. Later on I got a prescription and a little piece of paper with the mobile number of the hospital director. He gave me strict orders to call him anytime if I became any worse. “How much for the consultation,” I asked. The two doctors looked at each other and smiled. “There's no cost, have a nice trip,” they said in a chorus. Just as we turned to go, Travaini said “Hasta la Victoria…” - “Siempre,” svarede the hospital director.

A bit later we actually meet the Cuban doctors while trying to exchange some dollars. One of the doctors was soon to return to Cuba and needed dollars. We agreed to come to their house later in the afternoon. He even asked us if we had money enough until then, otherwise he would lend us some till later. Think about that for a while…!

Around the corner came a man. “Mayonnaise is the best,” Travaini grinned. It was the man from the bakery the day before. Travaini shook his hand as if they were old friends and the recognition brightened up his eyes. He embraced Travaini's hand with both hands and smiled heartfelt. Then Abbas Kadeur came strolling down the street in his blue Bou-Bou and we greeted kindly when passing.

Later that day we went to town again. The city's women all wore make-up, festive dresses and jewellery – and they all went in the same direction. Especially one woman caught our attention. She was extremely graceful in her wine red dress and high-heeled shoes. It was obvious that she had style. Travaini just had to have a photo of this woman. While she was writing her address to us a big white ambulance came along side of us. First we thought that it was the woman they wanted speak with. In the ambulance sat the hospital director and waved. “How are you, have you got the medicine,” he asked me. It is not often you experience such a string of incidences – unbelievable… Only after two days in Timbuktu.

Back to the festive dressed women. The woman in red had told us that all the women were on their way to a wedding. They were paying respect to the bride and her family by visiting her before she was given away to her soon to be husband. We followed the women to the other side of town where the bride lived.

Outside the door several women stood waiting their turn to greet the bride. “You're a woman, go in there,” Travaini said and pushed me in the direction of the door. I took of my shoes and went in. Inside, in a sort of courtyard women were sitting talking – one louder that the other. A sudden total silence, they looked at me, sent each other a quick glance and then continued talking.

The bride came out and chaos went loose. Everybody wanted to have her attention, touch her henna decorated hands and jewellery-covered head . Everybody wanted to be the one that told her about her duties in marriage. The bride smiled all the time though she seemed a bit uncomfortable by all the attention from the noisy women's talking, all at the same time. “We'll have to give her something,” I said to Travaini who stood just outside the door. I searched my mind. Luckily I had a beautiful silver clip for money in my bag. “That would be a good present,” I thought. Travaini had given it to me and he didn't seem to mind. She thanked us many times for the present and put it in her big black purse, which purpose obviously was to contain all the donations she had received from people. I found my flip-flops between the huge amount of shoes and sandals, which almost blocked the door. We went back to the hotel with the feeling of having experienced something truly special.