The week before Christmas 1989, I sat in an outpatient ward in Kumamoto University Hospital waiting for the doctor to take a look at a head cold that threatened to ruin my holidays.
Down the hall walked a friend, a doctor from Bangladesh, who greeted me minus his usual smile.
"Two days ago I got a call from home," said the man, blinking. "My father had a heart attack. I'm trying to get a flight back, but there are no seats. In the meantime, my father's passed away."