MARRAKESH.

I watched the doctor's mouth move, his words drowned in the turmoil that has engulfed me.
"This can't be true!" I muttered repeatedly, tears flowing freely from my eyes.
"Stage two breast cancer," he said again. "We can remove the affected breast and start chemotherapy."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. How can I, thirty and unmarried, lose a breast?
"She will need some time," Kola, my boyfriend chimed in, looking at me.
The doctor sighed. "The earlier, the better."

As soon as we got home, Kola began packing his bags. I felt betrayed.
"Which of the bags are you taking?" he asked.
"Taking to where?" I retorted, confused.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Nkem, you've always told me you wanted to travel. We'll take one week and go wherever you want. You can start the treatment when we return."
I squeezed his hands, their warmth holding my floundering hope.

We arrived Marrakesh, Morocco, under the sweltering sun. On our way to the resort, the dry air was heavy with the smell of the orchard and olive grooves. Behind the resort was an imposing mountain range, their tips capped with snow.
"The Atlas mountains!" Kola exclaimed.
A sumptuous lunch followed, complete with peppery lamb kebab.

The next morning, we  left for the Ouzoud waterfall, about three hours from Marrakesh. The red-brick earth contrasted sharply with the green carpet of olive trees in the plateau. We watched in awe as the water rushed down, sparkling in the morning sun, the loud splashing sound sending shivers down my spine.
"The waterfall got its name from the olive trees," our Morrocan guide explained, in halting English.
We took a small path to the first level, watching the deluge of water surge forth, downwards. A group of macaque monkeys chattered in the distance, prancing about in their natural habitat.

The following morning, I awoke to the cry of the muezzin. After a breakfast of crepes- special pancakes with flavoured toppings- we left for the Moroccan desert. The Jemaa el-Fnaa square was already teeming with street performers, snake charmers and snake oil salesmen. I stopped to buy an embroidered purple scarf from one of the souks.

We arrived Merzouga desert the next day. The sand dunes stretched majestically to infinity and merged silently with the cloudless, blue sky. There were hammocks and sofas in our luxury tent. Dinner was served outside, under the stars, as we lay on Berber rugs. Opening the dish, I saw a diamond-encrusted golden ring on top of the grilled chicken and turned around, astounded. Kola was kneeling on the sand.
"Marry me," he said. "Let's fight this together."

We spent our last night in Casablanca, dancing in a discotheque, the twirling lights and upbeat sounds sending ripples of pleasure through me.

I returned to the hospital the following week.
The doctor leaved through my recent test results, his eyes wide with surprise. "It seems that your cancer has gone into remission."
I stared at him, speechless.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.
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