By Edward Indakwa
I walked into a leading hospital with a crippling sore throat and was quickly diagnosed with chronic bronchitis and sentenced to a fistful of antibiotics at considerable cost to my hind pocket.
Because of the nature of my job then, I kept aggravating my ‘chronic bronchitis’ and quaffing antibiotics as prescribed by that doctor.
Two years later, however, I saw a different doctor.
He was a proper doctor this one – thick rimmed spectacles, complete with an unhurried, professional look, even if he didn’t smell of boiling syringes.
After a careful examination, he asked, “Who lied to you that you have chronic bronchitis? You just have a sore throat. Go and buy a mouthwash!” And that was it. I was healed!
A year later, when I picked up another nasty throat infection, I was flat broke, so I walked into a pharmacist and met this lovely Indian pharmacist.
“Antibiotics?” she gasped. “All you need is some lozenges worth Sh200!” And oh yes, I was healed!
You get it? Same symptoms, three different doctors but three forms of treatment – one of them apparently medically wrong, but cripplingly expensive.
That, I think, is why I have problems with holiday tuition. With tuition, you convert an average child into an above average student who goes on to secure a decent a job.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t offer holiday tuition; reason employers get shocked to learn that the fellow they hired with impeccable credentials is, after all, just an average worker who can’t function without ‘tuition’.