Broken Hearts "I tell you this story, love, because the lesson, the human lesson, shines through its strange disguises and there the principles of the dawn were grounded in me--there my mind awoke to the sense of men as brothers." Pablo Neruda, "The Water Song Ends" by Rick Hodes, M.D.

For several weeks now, I've spent most of my evenings surrounded by dying kids. Recently, I met a new American doctor who moved to Addis Ababa. After coffee at my house one evening, we drove off to Black Lion Hospital so he could see the state-of-the-art of Ethiopian medicine, such as it is. We headed to the main pediatric emergency room. Dedicated Ethiopian interns and residents have nicknamed it Beirut for they consider it a constant disaster; they never know what will be brought in and never get any sleep when on duty. It is always crowded, always stuffy, and always active. "Markos, how's your night going?" I asked a former student of mine, a resident in pediatrics. "It is okay," he replied, "two admissions, and many sick kids to consult on. We have no empty beds, so we put them in the tiny rooms off the emergency room." This is the main teaching hospital of Addis Ababa University. It was built in the 1970s by the Swiss, and run for the first couple of years as a Swiss hospital, with cleanliness and efficiency, piped-in oxygen to each bed, and European nursing supervisors. Patients were issued plastic cards when they registered and were able to get x-rays and arteriograms without difficulty.