Wolfe’s Woofer: Bush Doctor

Sunday, October 8th, 2017

“There’s our boy!” Sherry said, pointing at Konrad.
Our ex and forever drummer, Konrad, sat at an outside restaurant table waiting for us to join him. Konrad goes to college in Orange Walk Town and whenever we’re passing through we try to stop for a visit.
“I’m having breakfast,” I announced when we got seated and had some coffee. “It’s too early for lunch. You guys have what you want.”
“Konrad, what kind of business is that?” Sherry asked, pointing to a small store across the street. “People are lined up to get in the door.”
“It’s supposed to be a hardware store. They don’t sell very much hardware in there, though. The old man who owns it is a bush doctor and all of those people in line are waiting to see him.”
“That’s strange,” Sherry said. “Going to the hardware store for medical treatment.”
“It’s not strange to me,” I said. “A lot of Belizeans trust a bush doctor more than they trust a licensed medical doctor. Some of those guys have a lot of skills.”
A little old lady hobbled up the sidewalk in front of us. Bent nearly double, she made her way across the street leaning heavily on her walking stick. Half an hour later she walked out of the bush doctor’s place walking briskly and standing erect.
“Excuse me ma’am,” I called, as she passed our table.
She stopped and said, “Yes?”
“Ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice that when you went in to see the bush doctor you walked in shuffling and bent over nearly in half. Now, look at you. You’re walking tall and strong.”
“That’s true,” she said, smiling. “The doctor fixed me right up.”
“I’ll say he did. If you please, though, I just have to know what he did to you.”
“He gave me a longer walking stick.”

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