A house-cum-clinic has been constructed (probably illegally) on Enright Avenue. The brother cooks the vegetables and feeds a baby, while the sister is the doctor and treats patients.

I went to her, complaining of feeling ill. “Come in,” said the doctor.

“Doctor, I am not feeling well.”

“OK.”

“Hey…you are supposed to ask what’s wrong.”

“OK, how long have you felt like this?”

“Since yesterday, Doctor.”

“What did you eat?” Doctor takes out a stethoscope.

Meanwhile the Doctor’s brother is hitting the baby with the bottle.

“I ate lots of chocolate and candy, Doctor.”

“You shouldn’t eat too much of candy, because…you’ll die. I’ll have to check your ears.” Doctor pushes one plastic instrument near my ear.

“But, Doctor, I don’t have chocolate in my ear.”

“The wax in your ears will come and make the chocolate gooey….I must also check your pressure.” (I am not joking, a sphygmomanometer is wrapped around my arm.)

“Doctor, how is my blood pressure?”

“It’s OK, but I must take something from your nose.” An evil-looking pair of pincers nearly take off the tip of my nose. Luckily, they are made of plastic.

“Do you have any more pain?” she asks me.

“Yes, Doctor, Yaya Papa and this pink teddy bear are not feeling well.”

“Let them be on the carpet, they’ll be all right. I am going to read a book.”

Meanwhile the cook has climbed into his high chair and is demanding breakfast…end of the interlude. Luckily, laughter is the best medicine…though I do have a pain in my side from laughing!