When I told my family and friends that I was spending the summer in Tanzania, the reactions were variations of the same theme – a biting cocktail of utter disbelief with a perceptible notion that I’d lost it, stirred in and ready to drink.
I’ve returned to the US and I keep finding myself wishing my time in Tanzania had been longer. Our friends had an impromptu send-off party the day I left, and as one male friend started crying, I, not surprisingly, found myself crying as well. As the taxi drove off I couldn’t withdraw my gaze from Kili – I miss seeing its majestic features on a daily basis. The mountain was draped in clouds of haze at its base, its top standing proudly in the milky pink sky as the sun crept down. I’m selecting amongst the (well over!) 1,000 photos I took while there to enlarge and decorate my room to remind me of our incredible journey. While I had been struggling in the last few weeks to determine whether I’d be back in the future, I had moments of unmistakable clarity informing me that yes, certainly I will be back. I’m not sure of the exact time, but I feel comforted knowing that I’ll return to this country soon.
One of the realities I struggled with most while there was the blatant dichotomy between how much I want to help and my current abilities to do so. In many ways, any small effort led to tangible change (the Albino program is an excellent example), but there were so many causes to which I was drawn that I myself cannot yet affect – the fact that there is one neurosurgeon in a country of over 40 million, one or two cardiothoracic surgeons, and 11 psychiatrists. Needless to say, I cannot wait to return once I have the skills to heal and touch many lives in an immediate, lasting manner – at some points of the year, then, there will be more than one neurosurgeon, or another oncologist (I’ve not yet decided! Which is fine.). I’ve worked with cancer patients since my freshman year, and in Tanzania, you’re essentially out of luck if you have cancer. I grew especially close with a man who had liver cancer that had metastasized to the brain – I was amazed he was still alive, given the country’s limited repertoire of chemotherapeutic agents and their general consensus that adequate cancer treatment is beyond reach. As my medical student friend explained, ‘If you have cancer, you just die.’ Yikes. If you are struck by a car, which seems to be a common occurrence given the speeds at which drivers go (it’s probably good my math is a little fuzzy when it comes to converting kilometers ph to mph!), it’s almost immediate amputation – the tools are just not there to properly reattach a limb (I’m glad I didn’t know this before going!), or even to monitor a set bone. My friends told me story after story of setting a bone, X-raying the patient, and realizing that it hadn’t been properly placed, only to break the bone again and re-attempt correct alignment.
I was asked by every single doctor I met to return to their country – every single one. “When are you returning?” “How many years?” “Bring your friends,” they said – no one I met was too proud to ask for help, they cared about their patients, their fellow Tanzanians too much to waste that kind of energy. You can’t not go back after this experience! You just can’t.
Beyond the hospital walls, I made lasting friendships with our medical student friends. We’re all trying to get them to America – they watch more movies from the US than I knew ever existed! – and are eagerly seeking any possible opportunity that would bring them to our country. I have two Tanzanian brothers – Philip and Andrew – and I was adopted into not one, but TWO families! I thought they were kidding, being polite and friendly yet insincere as we often are in our culture, but they were 100% serious. My first family is Father Muazo’s; his mother and father adopted me (after adopting Tina, so I think technically I’m their granddaughter and Tina’s daughter!) so now I have many pictures with my fam. My second family is Reverend Lyimo’s, who adopted Whit-Whit, then Cait, then me. I get to be the youngest (a treat, as I’m the oldest and I notice that I miss out on all the liberties and subtle mischievous doings that the youngest inevitably and most unfairly gets away with! Now I get to give my ‘parents’ a hard time!). Officially, that puts Rev at 19 children – he told his wife and she’s delighted. Needless to say, I have no shortages of available places to stay when I return! (Our group has also been offered a place at Reverend Biligue’s home – more accurately, a mansion by our and Tanzanian standards – he studied in Chicago for 6 years so it was enjoyable talking to someone from my neck of the woods.) I couldn’t have asked for more hospitality and generosity from everyone with whom I interacted (aside from those random instances in town which I wrote about earlier – I still haven’t figured out a reason as to why, but I’m sure all I need is more information to understand where they’re coming from, so I’m no longer bothered by it.).
Our project has already produced tangible results. We gave a presentation of our findings to the doctors, chaplains, and imams with whom we worked that was deemed ‘excellent’ by all who attended. We were quite happy, but the most important point is the fact that, as I type, our findings are being translated into an educational intervention program for patients and their family members, taught by chaplains who are being trained by Tina and Dave of our group. I’m thankful to have been involved in such a deep project that is able to give something back immediately – to help work at shattering the image of foreign researchers (Duke is very much included in this) sitting in their coveted office space on KCMC’s campus, taking, taking, taking from the community and not readily giving back. To some extent, the nature of research is such that it takes time to give back, to have the results of your labor materialize into something substantial, significant, and impactful in individuals’ daily lives, but there is always a way to do it sooner. I’m glad we’ve found one such way. I think that is a central, crucial component of researching abroad – being clear about your intentions and being open to give, sooner rather than later, as much as you’ve received. In such a generous culture, it may not always be possible to return as much as we’ve so heartlessly been given, but we can try.
This experience has shaped me in staggering, imperceptible ways. I’m more confident than ever in my decision to take a year or two off before medical school and I’m hopeful that I can continue to work abroad. Indeed, I’m more confident than ever in my decision to attend Duke – I am proud to be at a University that so strongly and obviously encourages its students to become diligent, active, and passionate world citizens.
I cannot thank the Global Health Institute enough for this opportunity – I know this has changed my life in an incredible way, and I cannot wait to see what lies ahead!
No comments:
Post a Comment