The screen behind Dr. Paul Farmer depicted a Rwandan man with a short gray beard on his chin, his lips curved into a vague smile. He wore blue cloth pants held up with a loose belt that dangled from his fragile hips. He had no shirt, drawing immediate attention to his frail body. His ribs protruded from underneath his skin, his arms nothing but bone covered with a thin layer of skin. In his right hand, he gripped a wooden walking stick.
“I said upon meeting this man, whose name is John, ‘We have all the medications that we need to get you better,’” Farmer said.