Saying Goodbyes

The taxi pulled up at 1am. I gathered my belongings and turned to hug my family goodbye.
As I pulled away from this small house that I had grown to call home, I began to reflect on these past two months. Over the course of two months I began to take root in Tanzania. Streets that once use to overwhelm me, now felt so calm. People use to stare at me and call out "Mzungu," now speak swahili to me with a friendly smile. The hospital staff know me by name and assign me jobs like one of their own. This country that was once just a mystery to my imagination has become a part of my soul.

Through my work at the hospital I have learned by the "See one, do one, teach one" motto. As I became one of the "old volunteers," it brought me joy to show the new volunteers the ropes at the hospital and watch there nerves slowly break down just as mine had. Saying goodbye to the various hospital staff that I became very close to was one of the saddest moments of the day. As I went from ward to ward taking pictures and saying my goodbyes, I felt genuine joy for the people who had touched my life. Without the work of these people, the poorest of the poor would go without medical care in Tanzania. They could be working at a private hospital, they could be making more money and working with more supplies and better conditions. But instead they work at a government hospital and treat people who seem to have all the odds fighting against them. I know one day I will return here and work side-by-side these men and women.

Through my host family, I have learned the real heart of Tanzanian culture. There were days when I felt like a zoo animal and was so fed up with the way people on the street treated me. But then my host mom, grandma, niece, and sisters would show me how the real heart of Tanzania is made up of people who genuinely care for one another through thick and thin. The night before I left was probably one of my favorite nights at home because the 3 TV channels were all out. So instead we all sat in the living room just talking and laughing. As my sister Carol started to fall asleep, her older sister began switching off all the lights. Then Mama Agata threw a sheet over herself and pretended to be a ghost. Carol awoke screaming and running around the house while we all laughed. It was just simple, pure fun. It was nights doing homework with them, drawing pictures, playing balloon tennis, and tickle fights that I loved the most. It was my Grandma(Bibi) learning how to say Hello and Goodbye in English. It was Mama Agata's chipati and homemade juice. These were the memories I will cherish forever.

My 2nd to last day in Dar was spent with my Young Life family, the Larmeys. They invited me to join their Young Life Africa Committee retreat for the day. My friends Paige, Morgan and Jake from Tallahassee were a part of this committee and it was a real treat to get to see them. We put on an All City Club right across the street from where I live and over 150 kids came. Club was truly astonishing to watch as all of the kids sang and danced to the songs, with no lyrics or sound system or microphone to lead them. They were so full of joy and excitement, it rubbed off on all of us. As I said goodbye to my friends and headed to walk home, many of the committee people asked me if I felt safe walking. This is one of those moments I hope to never forget how I felt exactly right then. I turned and said proudly "Its fine, I'm just walking home." Though I have left Tanzania, it has not left me. A piece of me will always feel at home there. Even through the upsets and  frustrations with the vast differences in culture, I became a little more Tanzanian each and every day. Tanzania will be with me always.

Holding Hands

As I watched in horror, a seventeen year old boy with cellulitis covering all of his legs screamed in pain as the nurses cleaned the infection destroying his body. He reached out and I held his hand as he whimpered. His arms and face are one giant karposi's sarcoma. The nurse turned to me and took his hand from mine while whispering to me, "he is positive." Flipping through his chart I was overwhelmed. He has basically lived in the hospital over the last month, as his cellulitis has taken over his ability to walk. His lips are cracked, raw from ulcers consuming his mouth. The opportunistic infections have hit him one after another. As I held his hand and helped the nursing student wrap his legs with bandages that offer no protection, I am hit with the reality of living with HIV. Many of the patients I have seen over the last 8 weeks were positive, but most did not suffer from such visible symptoms such as these. Daniel will probably not see his eighteenth birthday. I quickly excused myself to chai break in the nurses room and let a few tears trickle down.

Before I came to Dar I did my share of research on HIV and in particular how the epidemic hit america in the late 80's. I recently watched a documentary called "How to Survive a Plague" and was shocked to learn so much about how Americans struggled to find care for HIV during this time. Twenty years ago Americans protested to fight HIV, get government funding to do research and provide medicine to those who could not afford it. Seen as a disease brought upon by themselves, many people had little compassion for the largely homosexual population fighting for the cause. It was more shocking to me that twenty years later, much of Africans are fighting the same fight still. Education and research on HIV/AIDS is almost twenty years behind here. When asking my host sisters if they learned about the disease in school they told me they were told to never touch someone with HIV/AIDs because they could contract the disease. This country is still stuck on the toilet seat contamination idea. You could pass out a million condoms to everyone in this city and it wouldn't lessen the pace of this deadly disease. I don't have the answer to this problem.
 
On sunday I attended the Vineyard church again, taking a few other volunteers and another friend from the hospital. It was awesome to get to listen to Steve Larmey give the sermon. He and his wife are the regional directors of Tanzania. Listening to Steve's message reminded me of a big question I have let linger in my life recently. What is holding me back from an intimate relationship with god? In the old testiment the story of Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac. Isaac was an image of everything earthly to Abraham, he would carry on the family name and create a great nation. Abraham had spent years and years waiting for the promise of his beloved son. And when God finally granted it to him, he asked him to sacrifice his son on an alter, to give up everything he has waited for. Steve put this in perspective by asking us this question, what is God asking me to sacrifice and why? What means the world to me? I think this question has always been pretty hard for me to answer. When I was younger I came to understand my relationships with guys was the answer. Then later I thought it might be my personal image of myself. As I get older, the more I realize the most important thing to me is my success. Grades, my relationship status, how the world perceives me, money, etc. It all sums up to my success. My friend mel put it this way, "what if after four years of studying for medical school, taking the MCAT, getting into the best school in the country, God told you he wanted you to do something else with your life, would you?" That is one scary question.

To bring these two topics together, I have realized that my career goal of working as a doctor and my spiritual mindset can be very contradicting. I want to help the world, but only after I help myself. I want to be established and have my career inline, and then help. No! God is tells me to live EVERYDAY for his glory, not every tomorrow. So maybe I don't have the answer to HIV/AIDS epidemic right now. So I don't have the money to give to the thousands suffering due to their lack of money today. So I am not a physician yet. SO WHAT?! All I have is a hand that can give comfort, clean wounds, and administer antibiotics. SO that is what I will do today. And realizing that this is good enough for god, doing this work in his name, that is the greatest realization of this trip. Instead of focusing on how insignificant my work is.Instead of focusing on the years of learning I have left before I can practice medicine and "make a real impact." Instead of focusing on MY success. I want to focus on the right now, right here that is happening every single second.