Reflections on Tanzania

I was asked to write an essay on my reflections of my time in Tanzania. I thought I would share that with ya'll along with some of my favorite pics:

After returning to the United States, my adventures in Tanzania fade to memories and my experience becomes tinted pink by the rose-colored glasses of my memory. The frustrations of everyday life do not stand out in my mind and I more readily remember the beauty and joy of the community in which I lived. I forget about the constant power outages and the toilet that leaked into my living room and instead remember the blooming flowers, Mount Kilimanjaro peeking out of the clouds, and Tanzanians shouting “Karibu! Welcome!” to me in the streets.

Learning as a nurse practitioner student was difficult since the profession is not recognized in Tanzania. I straddled the balance between learning alongside the doctors and still connecting with the nurses, and what I learned was that communication is sparse between the disciplines. The nurses were frustrated when their concerns were not heard by the physicians, and the physicians did not utilize the nurses to their potential. I see so much potential for advancement of nurses and improved patient outcomes if they simply collaborated and communicated.

I was readily aware of the color of my skin—white. I was called a “mzungu” or white person in the streets. My skin color is associated with economic prosperity and as I learned more and more Swahili, I realized that I was being beckoned to come into shops and spend my money. It did not matter to them that I was a broke graduate student from Duke. And in the hospital, my skin color was associated with Western medicine that can cure all maladies. But there is only so much that Western medicine can do if the families wait too long to seek medical attention. Sometimes there was nothing more to say than “Pole. I’m sorry," and plan for palliative care.

I plan to start my career in the United States because I am aware that health care disparities exist in our own backyards and I want to provide excellent care for the children in my community. Tanzania changed me in a way I could not have imagined—it opened my eyes and my heart to providing care for the entire family. Don’t just write a prescription; give the family food to nourish their bodies too. Don’t just write a referral form; give them bus money to get there.

What will I take with me from Tanzania? After the red dirt has long been washed from my feet and my sun-kissed cheeks have faded from being hidden indoors for the winter, I still remember the children. I remember their big heads sticking out of the tops of kangas (cloth wraps) on their mamas’ backs. I remember their big bellies and curious stares at my white skin. I remember feeling helpless in the face of limited resources and poor access to care. I remember how sick the children were as I wished for folic acid, vaccines, and well child visits. It will take a long time and a lot of resources to eliminate the health disparities that exist in Tanzania, but we must remember that health is not a privilege, it’s a human right.