KING’S BUSINESS COVER STORY
Dr. Paul H. Pennypacker, assisted by his wife, dispenses free medicine at a school room clinic in Sonora, Mexico.
Primitive Medicine in the Space Age
by Robert L. Owen
O NLY MOMENTS BEFORE, the dusty town of Esqueda, Mexico, had been taking its collective siesta. Now, every living soul in the tiny villege was in the street, scanning the sky. The public address system was blaring: “The medico is coming! The medi co is coming!” The roar of an automobile engine blasted the ear-drums. Enveloped in a billowing cloud of yellow dust, a pick-up truck ricocheted down main- street, its single occupant clinging to the wheel of the bucking vehicle as though his life depended upon it. He was scarcely noticed. A ragged 44
Within less than an hour, two M.D.’s and a dentist had set up shop in the mayor’s office and the entire village had queued up outside. This exciting event has been tak ing place in one remote Mexican vil lage after another every few weeks for the past two years as members of the Church Press and the Chris tian Medical Society freely give of their skill in “ going about doing good to the bodies of men” as Jesus did. These physicians, dentists, nurses and laymen will arrive on a Friday afternoon in two or more light air planes from C a l i f o r n i a — mostly THE KING'S BUSINESS
child pointed to the two silvery specks in the sky. “ I see them! The medicos. They are coming back to us.” A mother, hope in her eyes, crooned to her feverish baby. An old man with rheumy eyes whispered above the din, “ The medico. God be praised. Maybe they’ll help me to see again.” Half a mile out in the brush, the pick-up stopped at a dirt landing strip. Ignoring the dust cloud that caught up to envelop him, the driver leaped out and waved excitedly as the planes cautiously eased to a landing, then taxied over to the truck.
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