Far, far away
John Wright reassesses his priorities
The town still had that Wild West frontier look to it. One main street of heat and dust. Nothing had really changed. Only the hedgerows of advertising hoardings that had sprung from the red earth. The growth industry--funeral parlours. One business was doing well, then.
It was four years since my last visit - my third in a decade to where I had once learnt so much of my medicine and healing. It all seemed so familiar, so quickly.
The hospital was swollen. Just too many patients to squeeze into ancient beds and along dark corridors. There had been a veranda to which all the wards joined. During the day the children would escape their cramped prison and play hide and seek, scampering between the legs of the women with babies on their backs; the laughter from both groups melting together in the African sun. It had been bricked in