The heat from the blazing sun is unbearable, not a breath of wind stirs as a bead of sweat trickles irritatingly, like a fly, down one cheek. The watcher, a white Westerner, from the shade of his four-wheel-drive screws his eyes against the glare and so seeks to penetrate the dancing haze that makes distant mountains and trees appear to float above shimmering waters. Out of this furnace a black African can be seen approaching. He is tall and muscular, powerfully built, a warrior's warrior and yet his elemental majesty is cruelly mocked, a bird with one wing, as he stump... stump... stumps forward on a long crutch, one leg missing below the knee. The path, if there is one, of this son of Africa is hidden by the long grass but he travels apparently purposefully towards a destination invisible to the watcher. As the Westerner, an American, waits, the black man's course carries him close to the jeep and a few words are exchanged as he resolutely hobbles past. The offer of a lift is refused with an enigmatic smile and a graceful shake of the head. 'Come walk with me', is the parting refrain.

Intrigued, the American turns the jeep around and seeks to engage the African in conversation. Talk is constantly interrupted as the road meanders, alternately carrying the vehicle and driver towards and then away from the African's path so that, again and again, the driver has to sit and watch and wait for the son of Africa to draw near. And every time the paths rejoin, whatever else is said, the same invitation comes drifting over the long grass; 'Come walk with me'.

Eventually he turns off the ignition, climbs out of the jeep and closes the door. After a moment of thought he turns back and retrieves a hat off the passenger seat and steps forward. Again he stops, takes the keys from his pocket, tosses them through the open window to land with a jangle on the hard seats, turns away and as the African approaches, joins him on the faint trail and listens earnestly to his story.

Believe it or not, that was a book review - but one that sought to help you feel the message rather than simply read it. I really hope you can sense something of the enormous yet subtle significance of the events in the above allegory. I hope you feel almost physically relieved, as if you've been holding a spiritual breath, that at last, this Westerner has abandoned his material world and embraced the heart and soul of the African, as expansive as the plains in which he walks. And maybe you can sense that, in time, he who has supposedly given his all (for surely this man is a missionary) will become instead the blessed and the enriched beyond all he could have imagined. Should you read this book (and if you don't even try then you have taken not a step from the confines of your jeep) you will be enriched with hope for times of suffering and inspired perhaps to dedicate yourself to the service of others - when you will likely as not become the gifted rather than the giver.

Reviewed by Scott Farmery, Clinical Medical Student, Aberdeen