The sickly-sweet smell of antiseptic mixed with traditional herbal remedies hung heavy in the air as I watched the scene unfold before me. Dr. Desmond Davenport, the so-called "Traditional Medicine God," had just finished fawning over the wealthy man's jade pendant. My jaw clenched as I observed the tear-streaked face of the peasant woman being ushered away from the consultation area.
Her child's life was at stake, yet she was dismissed because her offering wasn't valuable enough. Meanwhile, a man with a gold chain thick as my thumb and an attitude twice as heavy was being welcomed with open arms.
"My good friend," Dr. Davenport was saying, his hand still clasping the jade pendant, "what minor ailment brings you to me today?"
The gold-chain man laughed, a sound like gravel in a blender. "Nothing serious, Doc. Just some indigestion after too many business dinners. Thought I'd get your miracle herbs rather than some cheap street vendor's concoction."
