“Now, Mrs Anne.†Dr Musa beckons me to continue the tour. “I show you my speciality. In French, my wife says it is a piece de resistance.†He pauses for dramatic effect outside a square concrete room screened from the corridor only by a flimsy and ill-fitting door. “The operating theatre,†he announces. In the centre of the room, raised on an oval pedestal is the operating table, a tattered couch covered in black plastic. Above this, swinging from a long metal chain is a bright, white light, and to the right is a table and shelves littered with intriguing bits of medical equipment. I search for words, try to imagine even minor surgery taking place here, wonder about sterility, the lighting, and marvel over the lack of gleaming surfaces and fancy gadgets. “You find this a strange place, Mrs Anne,†says Dr Musa. “It is to you, like something from...
2 Comments