The village setting that Suhum offered at nighttime was precious in comparison to what Dag knew back at his residence in Accra. There were simply no distractions. There were no vehicles out on the dust roads after 9pm. Not even bicycles. The families had had their evening meals and had retired indoors. The air was dry and it carried negligible aromas from the indigenous dishes fixed on coal-pot stoves out in the open. The thick silence would only be broken by the occasional cricket. Even mosquitoes were not a bother. Suhum was just that peaceful.
He should have been resting. He had been on his feet for a good part of the day, fulfilling his medical duties. There was not as much work to be done in the clinics in Suhum however. Suhum was but a small town in midland Ghana. Nevertheless, the aspiring doctor busied himself, walking through the other wards and helping other patients if he could. He did want to learn as much as he could while away. For him, it took more than passing one’s examinations to become a good doctor. Years of experience molded and shaped one’s medical practice. He wanted to be a doctor who could operate by mere signs and symptoms and not intricate laboratory tests. Thus, Suhum was good grounds for his field experience. Here, with medical equipment that was far from sophisticated, his knowledge was being put to the test. And his rounds had him occupied during the day. But his evenings were freed up. And he cherished them greatly because he could spend those times with God and pursue higher and greater things than mere medicine.