THE MOST ready picture of a doctor is of one who, just under a year out of medical school, would have secured a huge advance from the bank to finance a surgery and the sleekest, shiniest car.
THE MOST ready picture of a doctor is of one who, just under a year out of medical school, would have secured a huge advance from the bank to finance a surgery and the sleekest, shiniest car.
This is not the picture that emerged from speeches at the funeral service of the late Dr Molefi Sefularo at the weekend.
He might have died in one of those vehicles doctors consider de rigueur in their professional make-up. But he was cut completely from a different cloth. This is the same man who, in his down time, was not averse to picking up his stethoscope to put in a lot of hours - unpaid - at his local hospital.
One would have expected the funeral of a decorated medico like the late deputy health minister, trained at the best universities in the world, to reflect the trappings of great wealth. But, alas, the only ostentatiousness about his burial was that it was a state funeral.
His people carried out this true Motswana wishes and interred him in the most basic of coffins, made of pine wood - which in their language is humbly referred to as lebokisi la ditamati (a tomato box).
A tomato box, it should be remembered, is as elementary as packages go.
No fancy caskets for a man who could easily have afforded the best contraptions in the morgue.
It is to be hoped that all the tenderpreneurs parading as elected public representatives who went to pay their last respects to Sefularo learnt a thing or two about humility.
A fitting farewell
THE MOST ready picture of a doctor is of one who, just under a year out of medical school, would have secured a huge advance from the bank to finance a surgery and the sleekest, shiniest car.
THE MOST ready picture of a doctor is of one who, just under a year out of medical school, would have secured a huge advance from the bank to finance a surgery and the sleekest, shiniest car.
This is not the picture that emerged from speeches at the funeral service of the late Dr Molefi Sefularo at the weekend.
He might have died in one of those vehicles doctors consider de rigueur in their professional make-up. But he was cut completely from a different cloth. This is the same man who, in his down time, was not averse to picking up his stethoscope to put in a lot of hours - unpaid - at his local hospital.
One would have expected the funeral of a decorated medico like the late deputy health minister, trained at the best universities in the world, to reflect the trappings of great wealth. But, alas, the only ostentatiousness about his burial was that it was a state funeral.
His people carried out this true Motswana wishes and interred him in the most basic of coffins, made of pine wood - which in their language is humbly referred to as lebokisi la ditamati (a tomato box).
A tomato box, it should be remembered, is as elementary as packages go.
No fancy caskets for a man who could easily have afforded the best contraptions in the morgue.
It is to be hoped that all the tenderpreneurs parading as elected public representatives who went to pay their last respects to Sefularo learnt a thing or two about humility.
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