Médecines sans Frontières

Holger Schwendler braces his long, lean frame against a chill that only he can feel. "Flu," he rasps. "There are six or seven pharmacies right near my house, but the one on emergency call is too hard to get to." It's Sunday afternoon, and he's ringing a bell outside a pharmacy 4 km from home, crouching down to mutter his request through a tiny brass door and shoving a wad of bills into an outstretched hand. Moments later, the hand emerges with a white paper bag containing aspirin and cough syrup.

Everything from the price of 20...