When Father was called into the office of the Republic of Nauru Hospital, he had no idea he was being given an award that had been bestowed on him by the government of Australia. In major countries like Australia or the US, or even in relatively bigger countries like Fiji, in comparison to Nauru, it was common to give awards or titles to doctors to commemorate their hard work and improve their morale. Father knew of these things happening in practice, but he had never expected getting anything like that himself because it wasn’t customary in Nauru. People weren’t really recognised in general. They spent their time watching the sunset from the silty coastline outside of their houses, fishing, chatting for hours with their relatives or neighbours, and getting drunk when they were younger or getting high off of the Gospel when they were older.
They lived their life, let it be lived, and didn’t think much about what they were doing.
So, when Father came into the office and noticed one of the people who worked for administration unwrapping bubble wrap off of a plaque, he was curious. The plaque appeared to be made out of wood, but it was covered with a gold plating. Whether it was fake or real, Father did not know. But then he saw what was written in a black font at the top.
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