Ouch!

06.03.23 Midelt Unbelievable, what big impact small parts can have. For example, when they are missing. I don't want to bore you with examples, but get straight to the point: The little piece of my tooth that I bit off from a wonderfully soft baguette with a crispy crust - I could still rave about it today ... - caused problems. I could feel that the spot reacted more and more to cold and hot liquids every day. I tried to fill the gap with chewing gum, but it didn't work, it was simply too big. Last night it became clear to me that I wouldn't be able to make it through the twelve days that will pass until I return home to Stolpe an der Oder. The fear of driving 3,000 kilometers with toothache was finally greater than the fear of a Moroccan dentist, which - admittedly - was not exactly small ...

So this morning I searched the internet for a dentist in Midelt, after all a city with 56,000 inhabitants. I quickly found one and set off shortly before 9 a.m. with Google Maps on my cell phone as my navigator. Everything was fine, at 9:10 a.m. I was in the practice, which I found on the second floor of a relatively new building. Two women with headscarves were sitting in the large waiting room, the small reception was unattended. I waited. Two women, a young man and an older gentleman arrived, who, as it turned out later, were just picking up something. No words were spoken, but at least: I didn't have to wait alone anymore.

After another 15 minutes, a girl rushed in through the door, murmured a few words and sat down on the chair behind the reception. She spoke a few words of English, so I could easily make her understand where my problem was. She copied my name from my ID card and told me I had number twelve and could sit down. Twelve days until my return home, now number twelve - if that wasn't a good omen!

While in the waiting room the TV showed a nature documentary about marine creatures, the room filled up. After about an hour there were about 20 women of all ages sitting there. And me. No one spoke, there was no eye contact. One of the women had a little girl with her, who might have been two or three years old. Most of the time she was in her mother's arms. Suddenly, the women started to move. The mother pulled out a cloth, the woman next to her stood up and stretched it in a way that the woman was protected from my gaze. I thought the mother would now breastfeed her child, and the cloth was only necessary because I was the only man in the room. I indicated to the woman sitting next to the mother that I could go out and said something like "Should I go out?"

The woman looked at me with wide open eyes, as if she couldn't believe what she had heard. She muttered something and suddenly the other women muttered too. I only saw the angry looks, the shaking heads. I quickly sat back down, hid behind my cell phone and didn't resist the desire to sink into the ground. Immediately. On the spot. Do they think I'm hitting on the woman? Ouch...

Fortunately, shortly afterwards, the assistant brought me into the treatment room. I was surprised when a young dentist greeted me with a nice smile. The equipment was old and worn out, but it was okay. The dentist made a competent impression, she even spoke English quite well. We took an X-ray, I had to help and fix the plate in my mouth. Then she explained that she actually should give me a crown, but that would not be possible in the given time. She suggested filling the hole and I had to promise her to go to my dentist at home as soon as possible. Then everything happened quickly. Drilling, filling, hardening, me taking a photo of the two women, the women taking a photo of me and goodbye. At the reception I had to pay my bill: 16 euros. For the first time in Morocco, I saved myself the bargaining.