Ever since I was little, I had a fascination with the exotic. Things, people, places, and foods that were not common to be found in my Upstate New York childhood always drew me in. For a science report in elementary school, I wrote about the sea cucumber, simply because I thought it would be more unique and much more interesting than everyone else's dog and cat papers. It wasn't. I did a research paper in 5th grade on Mozambique because that was the country who's name I had the most trouble pronouncing. My strange interests in combination with my inabilty to sit in one place naturally piqued my desires to travel. Over the years, the exploration button in my brain has been pushed down and rusted in place. It has taken me to many places, and certainly not enough. More important than the places I have been, have been the stories procured, friendships discovered, and the lives hopefully impacted. Many people travel, and travel for the sake of travel is not what I am looking for. I am not looking for my passport to be mantalized between a stuffed unicorn head and a fabally large fish. There are no lists to be checked off. Travel, and I mean real, adventurous, emotional and sometimes nerve invoking travel inevitably changes who you are and the people you meet, hopefully for the better.
This wisdom and my dashingly good looks have not always been available to me. Most of my experiences have come come under the shelter of work or medicine. It is much easier to spend all of one's money on a series of plane tickets and cheap food and shelter if you can trick yourself intto thinking that it is your duty. I have travelled under the narrative of medicine twice before. The first time, I was a transitioning second year medical student going to Egypt, who's skills included saying "whoa, cool surgery" and the exceptional ability to nod and agree. My second foray into international medicine afforded me the opportunity to create my own version of National Geographic in the indigineous backcountry of Nepal. At that point in my life, I had just finiished medical school and I was killing time before residency without any previous work as an actual MD. Those were two badass incredible experiences, but the medical work was only a small part of the story. As a pediatric resident, there isn't a lot of free time to travel. Luckily, I was able to take advantage of a great opportunity to use actual MD experince as part of my training for a month in Rwanda.
Most people think of a well known movie when they hear the name Rwanda. This is for good reason. In the not too distant past, Rwanda went through a horrifying civil war and genocide. The people there have seen, done and experienced things that bring them unimaginable pain. The country has put in extraordinary efforts and has had even more impressive results to ensure It's people's peace. The Rwandan people strive to protect past horrors from resurfacing. Rwanda is now considerred to be a very peaceful country with welcoming citizens. This does not in any way mean that they are living well. The majority of the people are still very poor. Tropical diseases run rampant with rudiemntry, inaccesible health care. Dirt floors, infection-breeding living conditions and zero income plagues many well intentioned, hard working people. This is truly an area that deserves and welcomes some refuge.
Who knew, but the plane ride to get to eastern sub-Saharan Africa is kind of a long ride from little Mobile, Alabama. Littered with new release blockbusters and tiny prepacked meals, it certainly didn't feel as if I was headed to the African rainforest. The two 8 hour flights, with a layover in Amsterdam offered me just enough time to become the right amount of sleep deprived to vivdly day dream about saving the world from the likes of malaria and tuberculosis. I then had a few glasses of wine and dove into some beautiful minutes of sleep.
It only took about 20 minutes or so to get to the Good News Guesthouse. This is a beautiful one story building overlooking the city of Kigali. During our drive there, our giant bus of Americans with suitcases pouring out the windows were easily spotted by the locals. My ideal medical mission would include going to a developing nation, blending in with the culture seamlessly, and being misconstrued as a local. That is not very possible with such a large group in such large caravans of American goodies.
I thought for sure, that any move we made in Kigali would be met with stares and bewilderment. Our first night in Rwanda went wonderfully. It was capped off by a group of us taking a stroll down the main road that led to the guesthouse. No one blinked. No one turned their heads. No one scowled. No one was surprised. And these are the locals I am talking about. Now, us Americans, we were snappng pictures, updating social media and selfying the shit out of our first night in a Africa. Our excitement was evident, but we had yet to even begin the meaty portion of our trip. I soon realized that in the capital of Rwanda, the people here must be used to outside visitors. I didn't think that this would be the case in our next destination, Kibogora Hospital, smack dab in the middle of the Rwandan jungle near the border of The Democratic Republic of Congo. Our 6 hour or so bus ride the next day to the hospital would surely open a little window into the poorer part of this wonderfully beautiful contry that has been through so much hell. There is no way that we would not be amazed.
