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Wednesday, October 02, 2002
FLAVIER: The parable of the young doctor
By Juan Flavier
THE farmer and his wife had a consuming passion. They were determined to have their child complete a college degree despite their poverty.
The couple was unschooled. Both would recall having attended a few days in the barrio school after which they had to stop because they could not buy the required pencil and pad paper. What they had not attained, they desperately wanted for their only offspring.
It was for this reason that they worked obsessively.
The farmer was up and about before the sun shone and toiled until nightfall. Aside from laboring in his rice fields, he also tended rows of vegetables as secondary crop. The wife would always be fattening a pig or two. She also cared for several goats and bred quiet a number of native chickens.
One Sunday, she sold home-cooked pastries at the sabungan (cockpit). From the income accruing, every cent was set aside for one purpose. It did not matter that they had no television or radio like their neighbors. Their modest nipa hut saw no improvements. They ate just enough for sustenance. But their only child got all he needed for his education.
And so it came to pass that their son graduated from medical school. The proud, aging parents eagerly dream of seeing him practice in their town or maybe even in the provincial capital.
Instead, it was a big shock when the young doctor revealed he had decided to serve a remote barrio in a far-flung mountain area.
"But, son," interposed the farmer, "I know for a fact that the God-forsaken place you want to go to has no electricity or any basic amenities at all."
The young man looked calmly at his father. "Yes, Father, no electricity. No telephones. Not even a regular mail service. That is why I am going."
"I am told they way there has a river with no connecting bridge. When it overflows during the rainy season, the barrio is cut off from civilization for five months every year. Why, you will practically be a prisoner."
The son smiled and replied, "That's true, Father. The barrio is often isolated and neglected. That is why I am going."
"It has had no doctor for the past nine years," pursued the father. "That says a lot to me."
"That, too, is right," responded the son ever so gently. "No doctor has ever endured the harsh life there. That is why I am going."
"But you can earn much, much more if you practice in the big city. Someday, you can even work in the States," suggested the father.
Before his son could reply he continued, "Actually, I heard the abandoned barrio clinic was burned down by the rebels. And even more atrocities are reportedly committed by military scalawags. Your very life could be in danger there."
The young doctor held his father's arm tightly and whispered reassuringly, "All the tales of horror and hardships are true, Father. That is why I am going." |
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