A large crowd throngs the out-patient hall and all 300 children cry in unison. The father of an eight year-old girl pushes her through the crowd until she reaches a partitioned cubicle where four doctors sit round a table. He puts her in front of the first doctor and tells him about the chest pain she has had for months. The doctor, struggling to hear above the din, takes a brief history and examines the girl standing up. The history is inconclusive and there are no signs; he cannot understand why her parents have bothered to make the 30 mile bus ride that morning; why didn't they accept the advice of the paediatricians they had consulted nearer their home? Usually he would have written a prescription for a tonic costing the father two days' wages, but this time he directs the girl and her father back through the crowd to where I sit, alone in my cubicle, separated from the gaze of the attenders by a saloon bar door.