Where do we go from here?

Sept 2nd, 2012
Life is good here. No, it’s FANTASTIC here. I thought I was walking into this to offer my help and knowledge. But it seems I have learned far more here than I ever counted on.
Never before have I been surrounded by people who…despite the fact that they barely know me…call me ‘family’. My soul has ached to be in a community like this for it all these years. They go completely out of their way to help each other. They are so inviting…so living the spirit of ubuntu (“I am who I am because of who everyone around me is”)....so enlivened by faith….so good at solving problems. Not ignoring conflict, but taking them head on without disrespecting the other party/parties. Centered on restorative- rather than retributive- justice.
And so good at taking action.
Because I very much admire Gandhi, I brought an entire stack of his quotes with me to Africa. Some of my favorites have to do with taking action…rather than waiting for God to intervene…or worse, doing nothing. We, in the US, have become huge push-overs. We are the poster children for ignoring the elephants in the room. Worst of all, it’s hard to ignore the soaring numbers of people who say they are ‘angry’, ‘outraged’, ‘saddened’…and yet, they are little more than words. If you see the issue and yet do little more than talk about it or even say a prayer for it…well, that’s all good and well, but that’s easy. Taking action, putting your emotional health on the line, making sacrifices, using your hands & feet to bring change…that’s hard. You can’t cower behind words alone and expect a pat on the back. Why? Because you have to be willing to be in the minority, to stand up when others may stand against you (even if this means your family and friends), you have to be radical enough to- as gently as you can- ruffle some feathers in order to cause change.
“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.”-Mahatma Gandhi

Anyone can see a problem, but only the bold actually do something about it. You don’t have to run what you believe over people with a bulldozer, but hey, you have to stand firm. I know someone will probable read this message and be offended by it, but hey, at least I stuck up for justice, right?
Please, take a minute to really take in the following quotes (all by Gandhi). It is my hope and prayer that every one of you writes their meanings deep in your hearts.
“To give pleasure to a single heart with a single act is better than a thousand heads bowing in prayer”

“To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest”

“For me, every ruler is an alien that defies public opinion”

And my favorites…
“If you are neutral in times of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has it’s foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality”

“A ‘no’ uttered from the deepest conviction id better than a ‘yes’ merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble.”

I wish I could shake this man’s hand.
I don’t by any means have the intention of bashing the US. I love my home and I am proud to be an American. But I also believe that if we were to adopt some of the aforementioned concepts, it might suffice to wipe out a large chunk of the problems in our country. I look at the problems they have here in Africa and see very tangible problems….lack of food, clean water, shelter, absence of disease. And yet, you can not find the kind of joy that the Tanzanians have anywhere in the US. Why is that?
Because we have forgotten how to solve conflicts, and instead opt to walk away. We choose to see problems, but do nothing to stop them. Because we expect God to do all the work. Because independence has because more important than interdependence. Because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

“Action expresses priorities.”- Gandhi

Is your priority to smooth over injustice for the sake of keeping harmony, or is your priority to cause change, trading temporary insecurity for the greater good in the long run?
I raise you all a big, bold move.

Life in Tanzania

Due to the fact that I was unable to access Blogger while in Tanzania, I instead uploaded them to Facebook (don't ask me why Facebook worked there and not Blogger...blasted African internet! ;) So....I will begin to repost what I wrote there. Enjoy :)

August 13th- 15th 
Well, my adventure has certainly started out on an interesting foot. First, I flew to Minneapolis on Monday morning. Second flight to Amsterdam went well and I sat next to an Ethiopian immigrant who was traveling back home to visit his family. He was a very lively man who instantly made me feel like I had known him for 30 years. It’s just that good old African sense of unity…it’s beautiful.   The flight to Kilimanjaro was unremarkable, as I slept through the majority of it…it was 2 am back home and I was exhausted! When our plane landed in Kilimanjaro, we walked off stairways into the 80 degree Tuesday Tanzanian night. I have seen small planes let passengers off this way, but never a large international jet! Quite a sight to see the plane just sitting in the middle of a concrete path with no terminal attached. Well, then again, the airport itself was like 300 square feet. Welcome to Kilimajaro . It was here that I met a man named Ben as we were busy trying to figure out what forms we needed to fill out to receive our visas (quite the mess, let me tell you). We exchanged plans for travel and decided to try and meet later in the month to possibly go to Zanzibar together. Instant friend. I love that. I love his openess.
After finding my 3 bags containing about 2,000,000 lbs full of donated medical supplies for the hospital, I rushed outside to encounter 30 or so locals holding signs with people’s names on them, and sly others attempting to get the new tourists to get into their taxis or dalla dalla (bike transport). Within about 3 minutes, I was in a van with a man I had never met, driving down a road late at night through the equivalent of the African countryside. Sounds safe, right? Oy. We passed some obscene amount of people  who, despite it being pitch black outside, were carrying babies, bananas, and buckets of water on their heads while walking barefoot on the side of the road. And I’m pretty sure we almost hit an armadillo. Yep.
About two hours later I was reasonably convinced that this man was in fact taking me to a guest house for the night and had no plans to, oh, kill me and make a shrunken head from me. Ok, I wasn’t that worried. But I was glad we made it there to Same. It was a motel of sorts, cement floor in my room with a simple bed, a mosquito net, and two buckets- one filled with water for bathing, and an empty one to use as a toilet. Welcome to Africa. Actually, I slept rather well and was awakened to the sound of chickens and of motorbikes around 6 am. After a bit of tea (breakfast), I paid the owner 14,000 shillings- or about $12, and departed for another 2 hour drive from same up into the mountains  where Gonja hospital is set. The trip was breathtaking. It was like every depiction of Africa that I had seen in the movies, with rocky red dirt roads, Masaai people in ordinate dress carrying water on their heads, children running around in tattered clothes kicking balls that are long past their prime. But they were so happy it was incredible. And the scenery, oooooh, the scenery! Twisted trees and long grass, mountains that ascended through white, fluffy clouds with a scent of sand and humidity. Beautiful. The dirt and rock roads, however, were so bumpy I almost flew out of my seat on a regular basis. Martin, my driver, must’ve noticed me clutching onto the seat for dear life because he grinned and said “sorry, African roads!” and with a belly laugh, stepped on the gas peddle, sending us flying over another huge rock in the road. Boy, was I in for it.
Finally, we arrived at Gonja. I set my stuff down in my duplex (ok, it’s a concrete floor living room with a single old couch and with two simple bed rooms attached (I have two house mates- the hospital accountants), and a bathroom that includes on old sink that sometimes works, a toilet that leaks, and a shower curtain attached to a rope that you can use to shield yourself with as you ‘shower’- in other words as you pour buckets of spring water over your head.). Hey, I didn’t expect much. At least I have a toilet. Since I live a whooping 50 feet from the hospital, my journey there every day will not take as long as some of the other employees. Sister Dora was the first woman I met. She is a plump but very friendly nurse who is the equivalent of the nurse manager of the hospital. She took my hand (very much the custom around here), and took me on a tour of the hospital. Explaining the structure and inner workings of the hospital is going to be a large undertaking, so I will save that for another time.)
Next, I was lead off to a small hut where a tribal lady was preparing me a meal over a fire. Rice, beans, and bananas. Delicious. However, I did not realize this will be the gist of what I what for the next month J Oy. At this point, Dr. Amani (one of the three doctors of the hospital) sat down and sipped tea while I ate, and we talked about the differences between the US health system and the Tanzanian system  for over an hour. It was the beginning of many questions that would slip into my mind about care in the United States versus here, which I will talk about later. He then lead me by the hand to the market to show me around. In a small hut mad of the familiar red dirt bricks, I bought my first kanga- a colorful fabric . The women will twist and turn and sew them all sorts of ways. My beautiful kanga is a dark blue with tiny white polka dots and white lilies. I am just in love with it’s beauty. When we returned to the village, Dr. Amani’s wife and daughter giggled as they tried to show me ways to tie the kanga. I apparently was not learning very fast. Finally, I decided a style I liked and mastered how to tie it, and the wife exclaimed “You look like real Tanzanian woman now!” I twirled in front of the mirror a few times and grew so in love with the gorgeous fabric. Not quite a Tanzanian woman. But it’s a start.
August 16th-18th
The morning of the 16th, I was to start seeing patients at the hospital for the first time. After a delicious breakfast of chapati (a flatbread) and tiny bananas, I entered the lower end of the hospital (where the patients will come and sit in endless rows on wooden benches to wait to see the doctor) and joined Sister Dora and the rest of the staff for the day in an opening prayer & hymn singing. Even though I could not understand the Swahili language, the hymns were so melodic and beautiful that I didn’t much care. These people spend much of their lives singing, and it shows. It nearly took my breath away. Next, I began rounds with the doctor, with orders to instruct him and the nurses on how we ‘do things in America’. The wards of the hospital are often crowded, with about 12 beds shoved like sardines in two rows up against opposite walls. Take into account that most of the patients have family members and their children that will sit at bedside day and night, and you realize these rooms are packed to the brim. It made me shudder to think of the illnesses that were likely being passed from patient to patient around the rooms, but what choice did they have? To get to the hospital for most of them is likely at least a day’s walk, if not more. So clearly if they were willing to walk that far, they really needed medical care.
Despite the fact that I had no idea what kind of training it took to be a doctor here in Tanzania, doctors at the hospital seemed to be well-educated and knowledgeable. The problem is, they just don’t have the resources to be able to properly diagnose and treat patients. While they do have necessary  equipment such as x-ray and dopplers (ultrasound), they rarely get used, I’m assuming due to cost of operation. Anyone who comes in with chest pain, a fast pulse, and difficulty breathing is labeled as having pneumonia (which may be true, but there are also a number of other things that can be going on). I saw a man the other day with severe jaundice, who was clearly in need of urgent medical attention if not a liver transplant, and he was labeled simply as having ‘liver disease’. And I thought- but from what? Is he a drinker? Doesn’t matter, there are no counselors here anyway. Is an infection causing liver failure? Maybe, but I doubt we have the ability to determine the causative agent, much less to actually treat the infection. Does he have a blocked duct somewhere? Even if he did, anything over a simple operation here would be next to impossible to perform. So they do the best they can, give him Diclofenac (which isn’t really used in the US, but I gather it’s something close to Tylonel), and send him on his way. What other choice do they have?
One of the female doctors and I were trying without much luck to insert a peripheral IV into the arm of a very frail man one afternoon (rarely, they do start IVs here if absolutely necessary, as they don’t really have the supplies to keep it from, staying in place or from getting infected). After realizing this was not going to be an easy insertion, my first instinct was to call the Flight team (who insert difficult IVs at many US hospitals because they are used to having to insert them during helicopter transports for unstable patients, so they are very good at it). And then I had to laugh to myself….there are no flight teams in Tanzania. Good call, Kindra. Problem was, this man was so incredibly dehydrated that his veins had contracted to the width of dental floss, and we poked him 4 times before we got any blood return on the IV. I was thinking I had FINALLY gotten this line in…and then the site begins to swell. Well, glorious. The doctor said she didn’t know why it was swelling, and I explained to her that I had likely punctured through both sides of the vein and that the needle was no longer where it needed to be. So this poor man, I had to remove the line and try yet again. Finally, I found a vein that seemed thick enough to be able to get a line in without rupturing through it completely. This one was a success. Dear lord, I’m going to be really, really good at IV’s by the time I get home.
Seeing as everywhere in this hospital can need help and I am free to move around as lulls and peaks in traffic arise, I spent time in several places within the hospital. One morning after rounds, I joined the lady (I can’t remember her name) in the pill dispensing room. Patients who were not admitted to the hospital were often given medications to take home with them, and they would stand, some twenty at a time, in front of the window waving their prescription orders. We would take the hand-written scripts, try to decipher what was written, and fill the order from stock bottles of medication. However, because we had nothing to put the pills in, we would stand at a tiny counter and wrap the pills in half sheets of computer paper. You can imagine what a disaster this was. It was hard enough for me to wrap these things in a way that they would stay inside the paper, and I wondered how many patients would lose pills while carrying them home. In addition, telling a patient to take a pill “three times a day” isn’t too clear. I also noted the need to mention taking pills for the entire time they were prescribed. Many times even in the US, patients will take pills just until they feel better, and then discard the rest, which in time has caused a host of drug-resistant organisms that we have had to find new ways to kill. We need to make sure this never happens here, as getting access to new, more expensive drugs could be quite problematic.
That night, after noticing the layer of grease in my hair as it had been 4 days since I had showered, I finally gave in to the inevitable. I…took my first Tanzanian ‘shower’. Let me tell you, this was quite the experience. It amounted to something like me standing over a small drain in nothing but flip flops clumsily trying to pour water that I had heated myself over my body. Pour a little, scrub a little. My long hair…which is now well past my shoulders…was quite the disaster. I’ve now resorted to tying it in a bun and covering it with a scarf most days. While all of this was going on, my host brothers were sitting in the living room laughing hysterically as they hear me slip and struggle to figure out how this whole thing works. It must be hilarious to watch Westerners come to Tanzania J
Perhaps my favorite experiences thus far have been meeting people. Not everyone speaks English, but some do speak enough, and the doctors and accountants are fluent. I have enjoyed many wonderful conversations with my host brothers, who are the accountants for the hospital, about life in America vs. life in Tanzania. Yesterday afternoon, I was welcomed into the house of one of the young nurses. About 20 years old, she lives alone near the hospital and is the sweetest little thing you ever did meet. She graciously prepared for me chai tea and a delicious egg and potato dish, which we shared in her tiny entryway as we watched Tanzanian Christian music videos her portable DVD player from America (a prized possession which she has to charge at others’ houses because she has no electricity). While we are eating, there are wild dogs, cats, and chickens literally walking in and making noise, hoping for a bite. There are few doors on any house up here (also, there are none on the entrance to the hospital), and the animals and children run around as they please). Comical.
August 19th-
By the morning of the 19th, I was significantly exhausted. Minus rising for breakfast, I slept til past noon, rising to the beautiful sound of music, shouts of joy, and dancing. While only about 40-50 percent of Tanzanians are Lutheran, the area I am in is rather Christian. And let me tell you, their Sunday Church services go all out.  The singing and dancing echoes through the mountains, there is literally leaping for joy, and the smiles on faces are incredible. If it was easy to send pictures over our internet connection, I would attach one, but you all will have to wait until I get home. Despite the hardships these people face, their joy is absolutely unbeatable. Their connection to each other is so amazing. Rather than being afraid to hold on to each other like we see in America, they are afraid to let go of each other. It's amazing. I love America, but nothing beats this. You do not see this kind of joy and gratefulness in America, and that is the honest truth. We can learn so much from them. That afternoon, after being confined inside because of the rain for several hours, I ventured down to the market with the doctor’s young son to put more minutes on my Tanzanian phone and to purchase more kangas. God bless him, he is so helpful. And Oh, how beautiful the kangas are. Again, pictures you all will see another time. But I can’t wait to wear them!

Love to you all.

Show love...don't just say it!

One of the worst feelings in the world, to me, is feeling ignored. I equate it with the worst kind of disrespect, because it degrades the soul so readily, slowly eroding our self-worth. It sends the message that we aren't valued, aren't worth listening to, aren't worth being around. For the record- yes I am a Christian, and I believe ultimately, self-worth comes from God. I have always believed this, but I also have always believed that people are such an important part of who we are too, because they are little bits of God as well. Feeling loved, wanted, and valued by others is so incredibly important. Psychological studies have demonstrated this over and over again. Being ignored is consistently rated in polls as one of the worst human emotions one can experience. It is also consistently rated as one of the biggest fears of humankind- Christian or not. God ALWAYS loves us, but other people DO matter and are vital, if to a lesser extent. This is something I wish more Christians would acknowledge.

Africans as a generalized whole have an uncanny ability to care for each other, but do they feel ignored by the rest of the world? It's as if the rest of the world has deemed them beyond saving, beyond help. Or they have become a status symbol. You can donate money to some organization and they do the work for you. You get a little picture of a child you are helping in the mail. And then people pat you on the back and say “Oh, look at you. What a good person you are!” (please note that I am in no way knocking giving money to charity as I am a sponsor of a child through one of these organizations. I'm just saying it's almost become a way to make donors feel good, not always the child). Whether intentionally or not, it all makes my heart hurt. Life isn't supposed to be easy, but no one should ever consistently sent the message that they are too far away, their culture is too different, or they do not matter. Whether they actually DO matter to those of us who are 'privileged' is not the case. Faith without works is dead. Love is not love unless it is shown. And it's not always easy. Actually, it's often rather inconvenient.

If you do nothing else, please say a prayer or send a kind thought today for all those around the world who are starving, suffering, and do not have shelter. Or worse...those who feel alone, ignored, and not valued.

“The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread.” -Mother Teresa

It is not about money, race, religion, or what part of the world you live in. Keep them in your hearts. Show the world that no one is alone. Overuse the words 'I love you'... and be active about that love. Love is not real (and is far too easy to claim) unless it is shown. Find humanity in every person you meet. Everyone in this world is your friend, whether you have met them or not. Care. In a 'doing' sense, not a 'feeling' sense.

It is the least we can all do.

Tomorrow is the day.

Love to you all!

Grateful Receiving

Today I am enjoying a lazy afternoon (those do exist?) before I begin my adventure. Like most days, as I sit here listening to the cicadas, my thoughts often drift between three things, as the often do. God, people, and love. Cute, right? :P But oh, how I love thinking about all these three things. But not all thoughts on these topics are positive. In fact, many of them are not very pleasant. But all of them have a purpose.

When you work in a hospital, so see things that oftentimes you want to forget. And yet...you were glad you were there. I thought about the first patient I ever saw pass away....a sweet little old lady, calm and peaceful as the rhythm of the ventilator quietly inhaled and exhaled in the background. I remember her elderly husband saying 'no more'. He signed the papers. I helped take out her endotracheal tube, we shut off the ventilator, and we waited. Her family was quite distressed and though I did not understand it, was not too keen about being in the room with her as she passed away.

What most people don't know about death is that it often takes awhile. Though she took no breaths of her own after the ventilator was shut off, it became clear pretty quickly that she was going to hang on for a while. Seeing as we had other patients to attend to and this lady was in no way able to be aware of our presence in her room, we went about our cares for others (this is an unfortunate reality of a hospital). But even as I continued on, I found myself continuing to pass by her room, glancing at the monitors before going about my morning. I realized I couldn't just leave her. So, I put everything on hold to sit with her. And wait. No one should have to die alone, right? I held her hand, I stroked her cheek. I talked to her and sang under my breath even though I knew she couldn't hear me. Or could she? A little over an hour from when we first took her off of the ventilator, I watched her heart rate slowly decline until I heard the familiar persistent tone on the monitor. I took out my stethoscope. No heart rate. So quiet, so peaceful. Her husband and middle aged daughter, although they did not want to be present when the funeral home arrived, took a quiet walk into the hallway, slowly glanced in as they walked by, daughter's arms wrapped around her father. Eyes misty, she locked eyes with me as I still sat holding her mother's hand. A silent whisper escaped her lips. "Thank you".

No matter what I was feeling, no matter how my my heart was torn into pieces by being there, the daughter's two simple words made it all worth it. Thank you. I learned so much that day.

We must be grateful givers and grateful receivers in order to discover and truly emanate God's love. Although our need for independence & our own pride may get in the way, we need to remember that simple acts of kindness, no matter how small, are always needed. Gratitude is just as important as giving the gift. You can let other people take care of you. That's ok. The way I see it, they are God's own hands at work. We ARE His hands. Here's the secret- when someone is hurting, yes, it IS your responsibility to do whatever you can to help them. You can either call it an obligation, you can say it is needlessly making you feel guilty to imply this, you can back away in fear....or you can accept that what affects others is yours to deal with as well. Overwhelming? Yes. Can you likely solve all their problems? No. Don't let the daunting task scare you away. You CAN give them a small piece. And if your small piece is combined with others' small pieces, then we will get somewhere.

"When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her.

It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed"- Mother Teresa

 If you can't feed a whole village, feed one villager. I know my friends in Tanzania, despite having so little physically to offer, are going to teach me more than I can ever dream of. They think they are getting something from me (and they are- I mean, three suitcases & a Medi-pak full of medical supplies is to be quite honest more than most of them will ever see ever again in their lives), but in the end, I gain so much from them.

How to live, how to love.
How to show gratitude.
What poverty looks like.
What suffering looks like.
All of these experiences, happy & sad alike, are beautiful to me.
And I can't wait to share with you all.

A profession or a way of life?

Often, I am asked how I am able to do what I do. People hear that I am a nurse- much less a nurse whose specialty is critical care- and say “wow, I could never do it” or “that would be so difficult; I'd just break down every day”. It's as if they think that somehow, nurses are stronger and that's how we are able to do what we do. That we have some gift that makes us able to bear this all.

Wrong.

Confession: Nurses, doctors (and all related students)...we all break down too. We have days (nights) when we duck into the supply closet or go home and just sob because of something we saw or experienced. A patient died, a baby is discharged into a bad home, someone was diagnosed with cancer. Or all of the above. It IS hard, no matter who you are, to see the kinds of things which people in health care see every day. We aren't any stronger than anyone else.

While I can't speak for others, I know the only way I can handle this is because I have 1) A God who is incredible beyond words and 2) Loved ones who are ALWAYS going out of their way to be there for me when I need them. I humbly hope that I am doing at least the same for them. This is what is so beautiful about these people; ubuntu just seeps out of their loving hands whether they know it or not. They are there no matter what time it is, no matter how busy they are, no matter what is going on in their own lives & hearts. They are so reliable that I don't even have to question it. Just...angels. All of them. Take God or any one of them out of the mix, and I would just never be the same. I would not be able to do what I do. So you see, in many ways, we are one. I need them. They need me. I don't need to defend this to a culture which teaches us to say “I am myself regardless of the presence of others”; I know that this is beautiful. And it is my wish that everyone would come to at least explore this beautiful African concept of ubuntu- "a person is a person through other persons"

“What affects one unknowingly affects the others as well”- Archbishop Desmond Tutu

When it comes to crisis, there are really only two ways that people react. Some people, when things get tough, back down and turn inward. And some just are lit on fire. Dire situations ignite something in their brains that make them go “ok, let's do this”. That is me. That, I would venture to think, is most people in medicine. We have to be. And that buffers us from harm- if only minimally- as well. I am so thankful for it.

Third of all, my heart just bleeds for others. It doesn't matter if I've known you for five minutes or five years; I probably adore you already and want to know your story- pretty much just because you are a child of God. If a complete stranger asked me to donate a kidney to them, I'd likely do it. Because it's not really MY kidney, ya know? It's my brother's/sister's too, if he/she needs it. It's not about if I know your or really even if I like you; it's about the fact that we are both human. Truth. It's just how I am. And I love it. Some find it strange to be so giving...so be it. Some think I'm selfless....again....deeeeefinitely not true. I'm no saint. I just believe in living in the best way that I can possibly live. And I want to ignite the flame inside others to do the same.

Finally, nursing fits perfectly when you strongly believe in self-sacrifice for betterment of others. Because- *ahem*- nursing is pretty much STRAIGHT self-sacrifice. At least I think so! Take just one of the emergency plans for the hospital here. In the wake of the Colorado shootings, I was reading the plan for the hospital in the (hopefully unlikely) case of a shooter on campus. Guess what the protocol is? We make sure the patients are all safely in their rooms, shut their doors, and only THEN are we allowed to take cover. If we leave the hospital, its considered patient abandonment (I'm boldly going to suggest that this concept can be applied to non-emergency, non-shooting-related incidents as well...).This sharply contrasts the western philosophy of 'take care of yourself, THEN take care of others'. Medicine requires us to be the exact opposite. It requires sacrifice.

“A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves.”- Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Ohhhh...yes, healthcare is synonymous with sacrifice. Long hours, odd hours, all those times when you held your bladder and skipped lunch because you were too busy taking care of patients. The times you've been sick because you picked some bug up from a patient. The times you laid awake at night trying to figure out what infectious disease one of your patients could possibly have...so you can figure out what drugs you need to save their life. The countless times your family have had to eat leftovers (again!) because you stayed after work- without extra pay, to take care of the trauma patient that rolled onto the floor as your shift was ending and you 'just couldn't leave'. Because again, your heart says you should stay and help. Whew! It's exhausting. But we love it. And even when we are feeling like we 'just-want-to-go-home-and-clear-our-minds-already!', we know it's what we are meant to do. So we hold onto each other, we say some prayers, and suck it up just in time to take care of the new patient that just rolled through the ER door. You can either live your life in fear, and remember the hurts of your past, or you can say to hell with fear, I'm going to trust anyway. I suggest the latter.

I am not a saint. That is not what I am trying to imply. I simply strive to live my life in a way that hopefully  makes people go “wow, I want to live like that”. I want to be an inspiration for change, even if it means that I have to get under some skins in the process (although this is not my goal). I want to share a little so that I may receive little parts from others, and together we can make a unified whole. This country may tell you to depend on people less. Well, I'm going to be the odd one out...I say we need to learn to depend on each other more. To gain a little bit of our humanity back.

"Be nice to white people. They need you to rediscover their humanity."-Desmond Tutu, speaking to the people of South Africa on promoting unity.

“We must be ready to learn from one another, not claiming that we alone possess all truth and that somehow we have a corner on God.” -Desmond Tutu

To all the beautiful people out there (side note- holy cow, I had no idea THIS many people would be reading this!), thank you for reading this and, in some small way, making me who I am and supporting me in my journey to Tanzania. Interdependence is beautiful.

Almost ready to go!

Well here I am. Two years after I first heard my friend Alex talk about the people of a country in eastern Africa, I am finally ready to begin my journey. Exciting, right? Hard to believe it's here. Sheri, the lovely facilitator of my adventure has prepared me the best she can, sharing lively stories of a culture of people who believes caring for each other is their biggest honor and which values the concept of 'ubuntu'- which translates literally into "I am because we are". In Tanzania, even complete strangers are family. People who you've never even met will bend over backwards to meet your needs and you will do the same for them. Without even questioning it. It's amazing. As I was explaining this to my dad the other day, he mentioned how here in America, it is is much different. We operate on a quid pro quo system, where we only do things for people if we personally know them. Going completely out of your way for someone you don't know seems like an unfathomable concept in the US...in fact, Americans would find it downright WEIRD. But in many parts of Africa, it is like second nature. This beautiful concept intrigues me, and many times I have sat wide-eyed, trying to soak in every last moment of Sheri's stories as I sit curled up in a chair at Starbucks drinking a steaming latte.

There will be no extravagant food in Tanzania. No indoor plumbing or microwaved meals. Lots of traveling by foot. Little access to electricity (the familiar hum sometimes disappears entirely from the already sparse power lines for days at a time). Waaaay too many diseases, many of which even I as a traveler have little ability to prevent myself from getting. But as I was reminded after meeting Chambua (the adorable Tanzanian man who kindly met me for dinner the other night in order to orient me to what I will see in TZ), they have an almost unreal amount of hope, despite the hardships they face. It is truly admirable. They have a sense of community that is almost entirely absent from the individualized society of the west, in which distinguishing ourselves, privatizing our lives and effectively shutting off our livelihood and personal struggles to others is the status quo.

I am not trying to portray individualism as an entirely negative idea. Individualism and thinking for oneself has no doubt stopped wars, identified racism, and overthrown Hitler. Rather, I am trying to say that Americans have the tendency to take it to an extreme. Madonna (yes, the singer- who also happens to be a very prominent advocate for Malawi) said this- it is almost as if the more individualism we gain, the more humanity we throw away. There has to be somewhat of a balance- and we have swung far too much to one side. Not only do we as Americans (and I realize I am generalizing here) have a tendency to say "I don't need anyone else" and "I am not defined by others", but we have a HUGE commitment problem as a result that depicts this lack of unity in an embarrassing display.

Just look-
Fewer marriages, but more people living together long-term.
More people who deliberately & often desperately try to stand out from the crowd.
More dissolution of marriages, friendships, and other relationships are reported now by Americans than ever before.
And as a result, we STILL aren't happy- over 50% of CHRISTIANS consistently feel less connected to others and often feel lonely (Christians- ahem-aren't 'supposed' to feel lonely because we are 'supposed' to be entirely fulfilled by God- which again is mostly an American concept, not a Biblical one).

This is very disheartening to me. Why did I never realize this problem in our society before? And yet, I realize that in order to change anything in our own country, I must be willing to stand in the front line. So here I am, trying to absorb like a sponge.

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other"- Mother Teresa

Meanwhile, ubuntu quietly raises its voice to union. In the words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, "my humanity is bound up, tied up, inextricably with yours. Think about it- I'm not defined without you." Right on, dude. Casting aside the Western comments about being too dependent and needy, Africa boldly maintains that unity is far more important than individuality and difference. As I read more, I become more and more thirsty to see the warm heart of Africa live out some of the purest love I have ever heard of and experience the most genuine joy I have ever seen.

Am I scared? Heck yeah. Ill be traveling alone, taken care of by strangers in a land that is so foreign to me that I don't think I could have even found it on a map three years ago.  But I know that I have God, I have an incredible support system through email, and probably most importantly- I will be in a place where people know what it means to take care of each other and stand in the trenches for each other- no matter how hard things get.

"Fear is a manipulative emotion which can trick us into living boring lives"- Donald Miller

In medicine, there is an official motto that is often symbolized by the Star of Life. It means "service before self". I believe in it so much it almost hurts. This is the least I can do for the Tanzanians, for I know they have taught me much and will teach me much more..

"For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win even more"- 1 Cor. 9:19

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. ¹⁷ If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? ¹⁸ Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth."- 1 John 3:16-18

Here's to action, not just words.