The memory of Betinna goes back to my childhood, in my village near Luxor, in Upper Egypt.

Eternal Egypt where customs have endured for millennia.

Betinna was a young foreign woman. She came from Australia, a country unknown to me at the time.

I remember that she loved Egypt and especially adored children.

She was a guide and accompanied her groups of tourists to my village.

She distributed pens and treats to us. We eagerly awaited her arrival and each time, we welcomed her with delight.

I remember her smile and her gaze, which showed all the joy she too had at seeing us again.

She had learned a few Egyptian words to communicate with us.

She patted our little heads, caressed our cheeks, and felt our muscular little arms while laughing—all signs of affection that delighted us.

She crossed the Nile on two feluccas with her ever-increasing groups of tourists, and I watched them drift away, imagining one day leaving with them. I dreamed about it every night.

In this small village near the Nile where I grew up, I was happy.

I was overwhelmed by my family and friends.

In the sweet torpor of my childhood, I was challenged by Betinna.

Even struck. Without knowing it, she showed me the way.

The path to another life, inaccessible before her, to another horizon that she drew for me on the Nile, where these two feluccas disappeared, going towards her distant country, Australia, which I imagined between each of her visits.

Later, much later, I had the chance to travel too, to discover, not Australia, but Europe and France in particular where I live now.

My dream came true!

I thank Providence for having spoiled me so much and especially for having met Betinna.