Category Archives: Struggles

Some Important Information

Jun 10, 2019

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Today’s blog is less of a personal account and more informational; however, I still find it unduly necessary for understanding Nepal and my journey across its diverse landscape. These are details to keep in mind when reading my future posts. Whether it be my struggles in documenting everything, observations of Nepali people, or the conditions I faced during the trek—all of things are helpful for better visualization and connection with my story.

Difficulty Capturing the Experience
During my time in the Everest area, commonly referred to as the Khumbu Region, our team had much ground to cover. With treks that lasted anywhere from 5 to 10 hours per day, there was little time for rest. As a result, it was difficult to shoot photography, do research, and collect first-hand accounts from locals—all while in transit. My work had to be done in passing. Because of this, many of my photos were not taken with near the careful consideration I normally prefer. If they had been, the trek might have taken me twice as long. In addition, by the time we made it to our destination each night, exhaustion had so overtaken my body, I would often fall asleep while journaling and recording the day’s events. This cycle of sleeping in a new bed each night, always on the move—and simultaneously trying to gain an accurate understanding of Nepal—was extraordinarily draining. Adventure, when done right, is difficult to document in real time. That is much of why my accounts are in retrospect.

Reserved Culture
I also learned that many of the Nepali people, particularly in the foothills of the Himalayas, are quite reserved. They typically prefer not to have their photo taken. Out of respect, I normally asked permission. Unfortunately, they often declined. One the most disappointing examples of this was missing out on beautiful photo of a Buddhist monk, his face full of rich age and character, as he was artfully painting a large rock with the traditional Buddhist mantra Om mani padme hum. As soon as I pulled out my camera, he smiled, shook his head no, and waved his hand. I politely obliged, but inside I was disappointed not to be able to share this gorgeous scene.

A glimpse of a Buddhist monk as he walks home from his monastery in the small Sherpa village of Phortse.

An example of the rock paintings done by many of the Buddhist monks. All of them repeat the same mantra “Om mani padme hum.”

Photography Challenges
There were many other situations where, as a photographer, accurately capturing the moment was simply impossible. Whether it was the hazy humid skies preventing clear mountain views, the afternoon clouds concealing any sight of the stars, or the logistical nightmare of the wrong lens at the wrong time, I missed many great shots. At one point, I spotted a magnificent mountain goat, standing upon a rocky pinnacle that overlooked a 500 foot drop into the valley below. It was a picturesque moment in the midst of our trek. The only downside was that it was about 50 feet away, requiring me to switch to a longer lens. But with it already being noontime and about 10 miles of trekking ahead of us, I couldn’t hold up the team by changing out my equipment to capture the image. Not to mention, in the time it would have taken to remove my lens from my large stuffed pack, change it out with the smaller lens, and be ready to shoot, the goat likely would have moved from its spot. I had to be content with the equipment available in the moment — thus is the nature of documentary style photography.

Needless to say, wearing the hat of trekker, student, and photographer all at the same time was quite difficult. In the chaos of dusty, steep, and exhausting hikes, I did my best to capture the scenery. Where I have photos, I will share them. Where I have bad photos, I will still share them if important to the story. And where I have no photos at all, I will use words to attempt at painting a mental picture.

A mountain goat looks over the great Himalayan landscape. Unfortunately, I did not have the correct lens on to capture this moment as well as I might prefer.

Weather in Nepal
Many people have asked about how cold or difficult the weather is in the Himalayas. Of course, closer to Everest, the mountains tend to produce their own unique weather patterns. Temperatures can become quite extreme, dipping down into the teens during summer nights. However, for the majority of my journey, the weather was rather cooperative.

Because of its geographic location, Nepal’s winters and summers operate more as rainy and dry seasons. From September until May is the dry season, when rain is unusual, and vegetation subsides as the cold approaches. Spring and Autumn temperatures are quite cool during the day (60°F or so), but by January, they regularly dip down below freezing at night.

From June until August, Nepal experiences what is called the “monsoon season.” This is when temperatures are significantly higher and it rains just about every day—fantastic for agriculture but rather difficult for trekking. For this reason, these months tend to be the off-season for tourism in the Khumbu Region, as few trekkers care for the heat and rain.

Most of our weather was clear and sunny, making for beautiful treks!

Fortunately, I chose a great time of year for my journey. With May coming to a close, Nepal was at the tail end of its dry season. As a result, we got the benefits of the summer temperatures without the downside of the monsoon rain. Our temperatures were fairly high (up to 70°F during the day and 30°F at night) and the heavy rainfall had not yet hit. Our team was very lucky to experience consistently sunny and beautiful days. However, these beautiful days were not without their struggles. The sunlight above 10,000 feet of elevation can be brutal while trekking and the lack of rain meant extremely dusty trails. Many of us had to shield our eyes and faces from the dust, while using copious amounts of sunscreen to protect from potentially severe burns. Not to mention, the higher we climbed, the colder and windier the weather became. For this reason, I had to pack for two climates—the hot and dry days nearer to Lukla, as well as the cold and sometimes snowy days toward Everest Base Camp. Needless to say, while much better than the rainy summer or frigid winter we might otherwise experience, the springtime weather certainly brought its own challenges.

Regions of Nepal
In order to gain a better picture of Nepal’s social climate, it is important to highlight the countries divisions. The whole of Nepal can be effectively split into three regions—the Terai, the Hills, and the Himalayas. While these distinctions are geographical, they equally serve as social and religious boundaries.

1) The Himalayas
The Himalayas are the northernmost region, bordering Tibet. Far less populated and harder to reach, they are home to scattered people groups in small villages living largely agrarian lifestyles. Much of religious and cultural life in the Himalayas is shaped by Tibet. Across the mountains are numerous Buddhist monasteries, bridges and buildings decorated with Buddhist prayer flags, monuments called stupas, and food dishes similar to that of the Chinese. This is what characterizes much of the Khumbu Region.

Buddhist prayer flags can be found virtually everywhere in the high Himalayas. Again, they have the tradition “Om mani padme hum” matra repeated across them.

Prayer flags flying on the rails of a suspension bridge.

A small Buddhist rock monument built for good luck.

A commemorative monument in Buddhism called a “Stupa.” These usually contain relics or the remains of monks.

2) The Terai
In the far south is the Terai, which is vastly different from the Himalayas in both landscape and culture. It is a hot, humid, and flat region filled with farms, grasslands, and savannahs—closely resembling India. Most of the people living in the Terai are Hindu, and food, music, art, and society are all heavily influenced by Indian customs. The open border relationship between Nepal and India has created a sense of unity between the different nationalities. Not to mention, the people in the Terai even look different from those in the far north. While the Himalayan communities tend to have more Chinese features, the Terai people are darker skinned resemble Indians. These differences have caused for some problems throughout the country.

3) The Hills
Between the Himalayas and the Terai are the Hills, which includes major cities like Kathmandu and Pokhara. This region is sort of a melting pot between the Himalayas and Terai, mixing both Hindu and Buddhist traditions (although there is typically more Hindu influence). While at a higher altitude than the Terai, the Hills are still far below the Himalayas and serve as the economic and governmental center of the country—with both the capital and largest tourism hubs falling within the region.

Division in the Country
Because of the vast differences between the Himalayas and the Terai, Nepal suffers from social divisions amongst its people. Those living in the Himalayas and Hills often look down upon those from the Terai, especially for their tendency to follow Indian culture. The Terai people have gone so far as to advocate for separating from Nepal in order to join India or form an independent nation, causing significant animosity from the north.

Being landlocked between two major world powers—China and India—it is no question why Nepal has such variety in its culture. With Buddhist/Tibetan influences in the north and Hindu/Indian influences in the south, it is easy to understand why the country might suffer from division. Fortunately, those of different faiths and backgrounds tend to get along, but there still exists an underlying tension over the country’s differences.

A Few Thoughts
Much of the information I have gathered has been through speaking with locals across Nepal, whether it be in Kathmandu, the Khumbu Region, or Annapurna (where I am now). In addition, I have tried to supplement my experiences with reading. Online articles, books, scholarly journals, and other sources have been of major value to my gathering of information. My blog is not academic or scientific, but merely experiential. Still, my observations and the anecdotes I share are reflective of a broader story here in Nepal. I hope that my further posts will paint a more vivid and exciting picture.

A Home Reflection

Jan 28, 2019

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To be honest, I’m still reflecting on my emotions towards being back home. It’s only been a week and I need more time to process it all.

My last day at work was the sweetest! The teachers I worked with threw me a small party. The three teachers gathered their classes and made a circle, placing me in the middle. They danced around me and expressed their gratitude. I explained to them that I was forever grateful for having been apart of such a beautiful community. These teachers were beyond ordinary and I made sure to let them know. They gifted me with a large photo of them with their classes and individual drawings from the students with an address attached to stay in contact. As I said my good-byes, I had one of my little children in my arms. She dug her face into my shoulder. I asked if she was okay and when she looked at me, she had tears coming down her face! My heart broke. I know it’s part of the journey but walking out of a child’s life is not easy. I’m going to stay in contact with the teachers via e-mail but I still wish I could have stayed with my little babies forever! I can’t wait to hear from them!

Now, my arrival into J.F.K was not as bad as I expected it to be with the government shut down. I made it through customs in less that 15 minutes. I filled out a quick questionnaire on a computer, the guard asked me, “Are you declaring anything?”, I said no and went on my merry way. I walked out of customs and broke down in tears when I saw my dad smiling at me near the entrance. I missed my people! I have thoroughly enjoyed being around my family. I love being in their presence and being able to hug them. I cannot begin to explain how tired I grew of Facetime. On a scale of one to ten for connectedness, one for low and ten for high, I give Facetime a big fat three. I prefer to “talk to ya when I see ya,” when it comes to long conversations. In the states, I typically use Facetime for silly, short conversations. However, I checked in on family on a weekly basis and sometimes daily. It was bitter-sweet to say the least. All-in-all, I am taking advantage of the time I have back at home.

Aside from working, I spent majority of my time in Spain applying to graduate schools. Thankfully, I completed all of that work before coming home but Uncle Sam still found a list of things for me to take care of. Welcome home! Jokes aside, I do enjoy staying busy, but I would enjoy it more in Valencia, where the sun is always shining, the coffee is 1.50 euro, and everyone takes a siesta. That’s the one thing I would definitely bring back from Spain if I could. If dying and taxes are inevitable, why not throw a siesta in the mix to make it more bearable? Ah, one can dream.

Overall, I am extremely excited to see what 2019 brings. By February, I will find out my status for graduate school! I’m honestly at peace with whatever the outcome is. I just have this feeling that everything will play out the way it is meant to. Spain helped me focus on my strengths as an individual and it assured me that I am on the right path. 2019 is my year to further engage in activities and conversations surround topics that I am passionate about, i.e. mental health, mental illness, child-care and development, social issues etc. I dedicated myself to my undergraduate work and received wonderful opportunities because of it. Now, I am prepared to take it to the next level.

This scholarship helped me immerse myself into work that I care about dearly, but it also allowed me to hit the reset button. I know that I earned my awards and opportunities because of the work I put into it all. However, it put a strain on my mental health, and I know this is an issue for millions of students across the world. That’s why I am beyond thankful for this scholarship. I needed it more than I realized at the time. Now, I am prepared for what’s to come.

Talk soon,

Rachel Beihl

Somos Juntos – We Are Together

Dec 30, 2018

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“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

I wasn’t sure what to expect when Christmas break arrived. I’d spent the last two months adjusting to living with new people and having a new work schedule and now I was going to be the only volunteer left in a three-bedroom apartment. The apartment felt eerily quiet. At first, I enjoyed dancing around the apartment without having anyone around, but by the third day I started to feel like a mad-woman. Working with the children and Face-Timing my loved ones just wasn’t enough. The idea of Christmas in Barcelona was the only thing keeping me going at that point.

However, the 20^th of December lifted my spirits. It was the last day of work but also the day I would sing Christmas songs with the children. When I arrived, I was elated by the presence of all the children and their families. The school was giving out hot chocolate and pastries. There was music playing and a do-it-yourself (DIY) photo booth. I no longer felt unsure of how my Christmas would feel. I’ve never felt more at peace than with the children and their families. It reassured my purpose in life and my intentions within my career, which is to consciously engage and have direct relationships with the groups and individuals I work with.

That day was magical! When the time came to sing Christmas songs with my children, all the teachers and families gathered around us to listen. I grabbed my ukulele, counted to three, and my little ones sang “Feliz Navidad,” and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” It was the sweetest thing I could have ever experienced. I was close to tears as I watched my class smile and sing along. Their eyes were filled with such love as they looked to me to guidance. It has been such an honor to be a part of their lives. They have made me a better person and I love those children more than I can express.

After we finished, the crowd asked me to do a speech. Oh, my lanta. Ha, I was nervous but I got through it. The teachers then proceeded to ask families from different countries to sing a Christmas song in their language. We were a family, enjoying and respecting each other’s’ cultures; from Spanish, Moroccan, Nigerian, to Gujarati and more. It was the beginning of the best Christmas ever.

On the 23^rd of December, I traveled to Barcelona to meet my Second cousin and her husband for the first time. Prior to us meeting, we had only spoken through Facebook. The family resemblance was uncanny. It was comforting to see a familiar face and be around a culture more familiar to my own as a Honduran. They gave me the REAL Spain experience. They lived on the outskirts of Barcelona in Vallirana, Cataluña, Spain. This is the ore country side of Spain, where the pueblos (small towns) are located. I felt lucky to be staying with them because it added depth to my experience and knowledge of Spain. It was without a doubt my favorite part of Spain.

During the first two days, we visited the church La Sagrada Familia and drove around Vallirana. Catalan is the language spoken in this area. When I joined them for the Christmas mass, I could barely understand what was being said. It was definitely not the Spanish I had grown up around. Nevertheless, I was beautiful.

On Christmas day, we drove to Barcelona to join my cousin’s husband’s family for dinner in a hotel. The dinner was superb from start to finish and the family was more than welcoming of my presence. They asked me to play Christmas songs with my ukulele and so I did. Their singing captured the entire hotel floor’s attention. Everyone enjoyed themselves greatly. After dinner, a few of us went off to visit Montjuic, a hill surrounded by a national museum, a castle, and a 5-Star Hotel that hosted for the 1992 Summer Olympics. Only the pictures can truly describe the beauty of it all, but even then, it’s something you have to experience.

My cousins and I spent the next day at Mont Tibidabo, which overlooks Spain and is surround by an Amusement park and a telecommunications tower as well as the famous catholic church Sagrat Cor. The view was breathtaking; and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, my cousins took be to Montserrat the next day.

Montserrat Mountain is both a natural park and monastery, and home of Our Lady of Montserrat, which is also known as “La Virgen Negra” – The Black Virgen Mary. It was the highest I have ever been on a mountain. It was truly heavenly. I was in the clouds. Again, this was an experience that is better illustrated through photos and 100% better in person. Every day here has been a dream.

December 28^th completed my Christmas break. At 10:40 a.m., I ran into the arms of my boyfriend Trevor who in July, decided he wanted to spend New Year’s with me in Spain. I’ve been speechless ever since. Traveling is a beautiful experience but it is much better when you’re surround by people you love. I cannot wait to see how the rest of this break plays out.

Wishing you all a Happy New Year filled with love.

-Rachel B.

The Privileges of My Life

Dec 17, 2018

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We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.” -Maya Angelou

Kudos to the individuals who choose to travel by themselves for six months or even a year. I have been counting my blessings and my privileges during these last two weeks. Traveling is an exciting and life changing experience, but not for the reasons that we romanticized in our society. Spain is beautiful country with breath taking sights all around. There is ancient history is all around me and I am taking it all in. I still can’t believe that I’m even here. But I also can’t believe that I’ve been here for 51 days without my family and friends! Technology has been blessing and a curse for sure! I’m to the point where FaceTime is becoming a nuisance.

I’m a proud emotional human who values the importance of physical touch. I love hugs! I’m not mentioning this to sound sweet, but to point out that something as simple as a hug can be taken for granted. As I mentioned earlier, FaceTime has become a nuisance. I see and talk to my loved ones but what I really need is to be with them. I have realized how privileged I am for the simple fact that I get to go back home to the people I love. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how many families are separated by choice or by force. I think about how many of them will never get to see their loved ones again and how this will shape their lives. Most of all, I think about my mother, my aunts and uncles, and my abuela. I think about the sacrifices that were made just so that they could come to the U.S. and live a better life.

See, my mother immigrated from Honduras to the United States at the age of 26. Her older sister, my Tia Rina, was the main reason my mother was able to come to New York. Tia Rina left Honduras first to find work in the U.S.. My abuela followed and then eventually my mother and her other siblings did as well. Now, my mother is a citizen and lives 30 minutes away from her mother and her siblings. Can you imagine that journey? Can you imagine the struggles that came with it? I’ve heard these stories first hand and I still can’t imagine having to go through that.

This story is my reminder of why I am on this journey. Despite the days when I am overwhelmed by feelings of loneliness, I remember how lucky I am. It hurts to go through struggles but that’s a part of life. I know this. I also know how hard my mother and father worked to provide me with an education that could expose me to greater opportunities than what they had access to when they were younger. Just thinking about them makes me tear up because I am so proud. I am proud of them and I am proud of myself.

I hope when present and future travelers read this they pause and reflect on the value of their trip. The mixed feelings and the struggles are inevitable. It’s all part of the journey. I’m coming to see that the purpose in “traveling with a purpose,” is more about self-growth than it is anything else. Unless someone has partaken in this journey, no one can truly understand the difficulties that come with it. It’s probably one of the most humbling experiences as well. Close your eyes and open your heart. The message will be clearer.

Con cariño,

Rachel

P.S. – The children at work continue to fill my heart with so much love. I’ve been teaching them Christmas songs with Lola, my ukulele, for the last two weeks, preparing them to present it to their families on Thursday! To no surprise, music has been extremely therapeutic for the kids. It’s worked magic on their little hearts. It has helped some calm down after a tantrum and has brought others out of their shyness. Lola has a place in their hearts for sure. I can’t wait to join them in singing Christmas songs this Thursday.

P.S. – Here are some more pictures of Valencia! xoxo

Unraveling My Purpose

Dec 3, 2018

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In the dream of heaven, you completely surrender to life, knowing that everything is just the way it is. And because you accept everything as it is, you no longer worry about anything. Your life becomes exciting because there’s no more fear. You know that you are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing, and that everything that has happened was meant to happen because they have led you to greater awareness. Even the worst thing that can happen to you is meant to happen because it’s going to push you to grow. – Don Miguel Ruiz

Adjusting to Spain has been easy, but I can’t the same say in regard to having no local support system. While I enjoy the presence of my fellow volunteers, it is exhausting to constantly be around individuals with journeys that do not align with mine. I mean, I’m a 23 year-old who is ready for a more serious part of her life, while the other volunteers are 18 years-old and dying to finally have some control over their own lives. This is 100% natural! I’m only mentioning it because I want all future travelers to know that it is okay to feel like the outsider of a group, to realize that who you are may not fit into the group’s agenda. Raising our awareness and respect for others is the best thing we can do for ourselves in these situations. Be social when you can but also honor the moments when your body tells you you’ve had enough for the day. Your mind, body, and soul will thank you. I promise.

On a different note, Spain has been treating me extremely well. From time to time I reflect on the Lumos catch phrase, “Travel with a purpose.” My purpose has unraveled little by little each week, but I’ll wait till the end to share that with you. I will say that my Spanish has improved significantly. I’ve let the children I work with correct my Spanish. For 5-7 year-olds, they are pretty intelligent. Mind you, some of them are from different countries and have to learn Spanish, Valenciana, Castellano, and English! These little sponges are way smarter than I was at their age! After 23 years, I can finally hold a conversation with my Abuela (grandmother) back home and it warms my heart. Common now!

I’m impressed with the way the teachers work with the children. In my experience, I have never seen so many teachers treat their “wild” students with so much love and patience. I love it! I’m so use to watching teachers get frustrated with these types of students. I have the utmost respect for these kinds of teachers because they volunteer the best parts of them. I first heard this idea from a college professor of mine in NY. He said, “I get paid to teach you. It doesn’t matter how I teach you because I still get a pay check. But if I expect you to learn, that means I have to volunteer my best self.” He then went on expressing how fed up he was with teachers who don’t get personal with their students; but I digress.

As I’ve mentioned in my previous posts, these children come from all over the world and they are all from lower income families. Additionally, the teachers in this school all have fair skin, while the students vary from tan, to brown, to black. Now, I am only mentioning this because I have observed the teacher-student relationships. I have yet to see one teacher pick on a student for their race or ethnicity, or looks for that matter. Not one teacher favors one group of students more than the other. This may not be true for all of the schools in Spain, but I recognize the genuine love and respect that these teachers have for each of their students. I’ve watched some of the children struggle with accepting that not everyone looks like them. Little fights break out here and there, but the teachers are always there to set a good example. They always tell the kids, “It doesn’t matter what you look like. I’m no better than anyone here. We are all a team and we have to respect one another and love one another equally.” It’s beautiful, necessary, and powerful because there are plenty of schools in the world that don’t adhere to this belief. Also, this is a crucial developmental stage in a child’s life. I comforted and honored to work in an environment that takes their role seriously. My mind screams, “Family!” every time I think about it.

Oh, and speaking of family – my soul sister and her fiance came to visit me in Spain! What? Do y’all understand how excited I was to see a familiar face? This is a woman that I look up to. We are about 9 years apart, she is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor (the profession I am going into), and she is one of the individuals who sparked my new life journey back in 2015. Needless to say, she is very special to me.

We took tourism to a whole other level. I spent a day and a half with them in Valencia just catching up on life! I then spent another day and a half meeting them in Barcelona, where we saw about 6 amazing sights within 5 hours. Crazy, I know but it was amazing. I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything!

*Side note* Spain’s trains are not cheap and the U.S. dollar does not work in our favor here, at least not right now.

Okay, back to it!

I purposely spent a day in a half in Barcelona because I knew I’ll be returning during Christmas time, which is three weeks away. Again, what? Where is the time going? Soon I’ll be meeting family that I’ve only ever known through social media. Am I blessed? Yes. Oh, and then my boyfriend is coming to visit for the remainder of the break! When I signed up for this trip I thought I was going to be solo. Thankful is an understatement! It’s a peace of mind to know I have these events to look forward to, especially after the emotional and physical fiasco my body went through prior to the GRE, which I am so glad is over by the way!

I went m.i.a. the day before the test. I did not have the energy to talk to anyone. I was overwhelmed and had knots in my stomach. I can’t express enough my dislike for these types of tests; a test that measures absolutely nothing about who I am and what I am capable of doing. I process things at a slower pace and I need time to grasp concepts. I learn better through writing and discussing the material rather than memorizing it for the sake of getting a good grade. It doesn’t align well with who I am. Nevertheless, I still gave my best on test day, and luckily I don’t get nervous once a test is in front of me. I accept the moment, I breathe, and I do what I can.

When the day of the test arrived, I had to travel three hours on train from Valencia, Spain to Madrid. During that time I had journaled to myself. In that journal entry I wrote:

...You did your best. You will do your best. You challenged yourself. You rose to the occasion. Be proud. Smile. Feel love. Be love. Be.

After writing, I let go of all the pressure I had placed on myself. Once I arrived in Madrid, I spent an hour in a coffee shop catching up on some reading. As I drank my delicious mocha coffee and ate my cinnamon bun soaked in Nutella, I came across the passage in the beginning of this blog. I had chills, y’all! I felt at such peace with myself. My world aligned again and I was ready for whatever was to come.

Taking the GRE in a different country was probably the best decision for me. It felt more relaxing to be amongst individuals from different parts of the world. I can’t explain it, it just felt good. At the end of it all, I can honestly say I am content and EXTREMELY thankful for the experience. Oh, I’m also thankful that it’s over! Out of sight and out of mind!

I called everything post-GRE “The journey back to myself.” Between being sick and stressed out about the test, I definitely fell out of touch with myself. I needed to socialize, start working out, and do more sight seeing. This was my new mission. To hold myself accountable, I began writing a list titled, “What do I want to accomplish today?” I would even list something as simple as waking up, which is a great accomplishment for anyone. As someone who is active in the mental health community, I find it extremely beneficial to notice all the “small” things. This type of mindfulness is powerful because things such as waking up can be a difficult task, especially for those like myself who battle depression. It helps reprogram the brain in more ways than one. For me, it sends a message to my brain that everything I do matters. It reminds me to be impeccable with my words and my actions, especially towards myself. It’s a reminder to never feel less than or shrink at the presence of challenging situations.

So, yeah. All is well my friends. I am learning, growing, and embracing this journey that I am on. I wouldn’t change a thing about this experience.

Talk to you soon,

Rachel

Life Beyond the Vines

P.S. Enjoy the pics! There are some things that don’t need to be put into words. A picture can say it all.

Expect the Unexpected

Nov 13, 2018

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*Leaves the U.S. with a week old cold and no medicine.*

Me: I’m fine. It’s just my body re-adjusting to this Northern weather.

*Arrives in Spain with flat mates who are also sick.*

It’s fine. I’ll just clean, eat really healthy, and drink some tea.

*Has Bronchitis during second week in Spain.*

“I’m so tired. I’m dyinnnggggg. I can’t sleep. Ahhhh!”

*Goes to a doctor in Spain – Begins 3^rd week in Spain.*

See, I knew it’d pass. (Meanwhile I’m on steroids and antibiotics and two other prescriptions).

__________________________________________________________________

I am overwhelmed at the pace of life right now. On the 19^th of November I’ll be on my way to Madrid to take the GRE. A part of me is anxious because I’ve been extremely sick and unproductive these last two weeks (at least in my eyes). Yet, I’ve given my best along the way and the other half of me is a bit more understanding. Nevertheless, I am still trying to jump into a healthy routine and it’s already my 3^rd week here. Trying to reach my normal energy level has been a challenge. I can’t wait to finally feel 100%!

Anyways, let me fill you in on my two-week journey thus far.

As my mini-dialogue expressed, I’ve been sick since the week before I left for Spain. This made my departure from the U.S. quite interesting. My flight from Newark, NJ to Charlotte, NC was just fine. At this point I could deal with my sniffles. However, traveling grew more painful as the day went on. On my eight-hour flight to Madrid, I was lucky enough to have an entire row to myself. Yes, I sprawled out across four seats during the entire flight. I wish my body would have let me fall asleep on that flight, but instead it kept reminding me of how sick I felt. By the time I reached Madrid the next morning, I was EXHAUSTED. Oh, how I wished I could have been in Valencia already. Instead, I spent seven hours in the Madrid airport. The “best” part of it all was getting lost and having to check back in with customs. Ha! I was a walking zombie. I could not even process what was going on. I remember facetiming my boyfriend and tearing up because I was past the point of exhaustion. I did my best to stretch, read, play music, and keep my mind busy. Unfortunately, my immune system said, “Sorry girl. I’m clocking out,” and it did.

I was beyond grateful to have finally reached Valencia, Spain. Sleep was the number one thing on my mind, but it was not the first thing that I was able to do. Instead, I bonded with my flat-mates and fellow volunteers. They have been such a sweet, fun, and lively group of individuals. A few of them are from Germany, one is from Switzerland, another from Poland, and another is from Washington State. I was surprised to find out that I was the oldest in the group. I expected to volunteer with a variety of ages. Instead, they’re all 18 years-old, straight out of high school, ready to drink and party. Then there’s me, your 23-year-old nanny and college graduate, who’s ready for bed by 11:00 p.m. I suppose our priorities are just a tad different, but that’s okay! I’ve enjoyed working and growing with them these past two weeks.

However, in regard to my health, these past two weeks have been a fiasco. The medicine I picked up from the pharmacy was 100% ineffective. My body was not having it but I still tried to stay active during my first week in Spain. From bicycle rides to the beach, to joining the other volunteers on early afternoon excursions, I pushed through it all. I even joined them on Halloween night.

Side note: the night I learned that Valencia parties until 7:00 a.m. Can you imagine my face when I was told this? My jaw dropped and I shook my head. I was used to my own family parties lasting until 3:00 a.m. in the morning, but 7:00 a.m. Excuse me, what? New York City, you are not the only city that never sleeps. I can’t hang and I’m not ashamed!

I digress. Anyways, my cold escalated and turned into bronchitis. I grew miserable. My energy and moral was low. I was coughing so much that my sweet elderly neighbor Keke knocked on my door to make sure I was okay. I cried. I was so tired of being sick and I missed having my loved ones around. I’ve also been anxious about the GRE and my college applications. My body needed time to relax and I was not giving it what it needed. It took me until the end of my second week here to finally go to the doctors. Four medications later and I’m slowly getting back to feeling like myself again.

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Now, I’m sure you’re wondering how the volunteer work has been. It’s been an amazing learning experience. In the two weeks I have been here, I have journaled endlessly about all the things I have learned, the things that I’d like to do, and the things I never knew. For example, I came across a video one day discussing the cons about certain volunteer trips. I was a bit disappointed at myself for not thinking twice about the matter. This was my response after watching the video:

It’s interesting to watch this now that I’m already on my “Travel with a Purpose,” scholarship. I’m glad that I came across this video because it raised a perspective that went unrecognized in my mind. If I’m being honest yes, I feel a built guilty after watching this video. However, I believe that video has added on and changed how I will spend my time here for that same reason. How can I give back in a way that will actually be helpful to the children I work with? That’s the question I’ll be asking myself everyday. If nothing else, I want to be a role model and help these children use their minds and embrace the process of learning and thinking for themselves. I wish I had the money to help the organizations here, but I can’t change their situation at the moment. But I can give them the tools they need to grow. The next couple of months will be filled with learning. I’m still thrilled to have this opportunity but even more thrilled to learn how to be a better advocate for the children here.Volunteer Tourism

The children I work with range from six to seven years old. Majority of them have come from different parts of the world, some from Africa, Pakistan, and South America. In the time that I’ve spent with them so far, I can tell that these children need structure, consistency, and better examples of of how to interact with different cultures work as a team. However, it’s been a challenge for me to maintain order in the class room while the teacher is gone. The children aren’t difficult to be around. What’s been difficult is trying to tell them to be quiet and sit down when all they want to do is hug, talk, and smile with me. It’s unfortunate that I’ve been sick for the first two weeks, but I am so grateful to have 3 months with these children. Week by week I’ll be learning more and hopefully adding to their activities and helping open their minds. Next week, I’ll be playing the ukulele for them!

Hopefully my blog post improve from here on out now that I am starting to feel better! Enjoy the photos! (If you click on the images they will automatically rotate themselves.) Technology can be weird sometimes.

I love you all.

Xoxo!

Wish me luck on my last week of reviewing for the GRE. Been studying since May (on and off) will I ever feel ready?

Last Day in the U.S.A (Until 2019)

Oct 26, 2018

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My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style. – Maya Angelou

More than a month ago I compared myself to the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. I was hustling and rushing to get everything done. Can you imagine what the end result was? Ha, let me tell you.

From September 28th through October 13th, I tried to check everything off my to-do list, from packing and sending e-mails, to studying and saying my goodbyes. Just when I thought I covered all my bases, I realized I had dropped the ball on obtaining my Spain Visa earlier this summer. I thought I still had time to contact the embassy and Spain consulate in the U.S. Clearly. I knew I needed a visa to stay in the Schengen area for more than 90 days. I had contacted both the D.C. and N.Y. consulates via e-mail, in hopes that they would be able to answer some of my questions, but they did not. After informing them of the steps I had taken, they shut me down before I could ask my questions. Who’s to blame? Me. Life moved extremely fast this summer and I shouldn’t have underestimated this process. Everything about that experience screams, “First time traveler.” But that’s alright, I accepted my mistake and made the necessary adjustments after. As the singer Aaliyah cantered, “If at first you don’t succeed, you can dust yourself off and try again.”

On a more personal note, saying good bye to my Nashville family was not easy. The day I left Nashville, I was with my boyfriend Trevor and holy cow did I cry! I knew I was going to. I live in the moment and when the emotions roll in, I let them come full force so that I don’t let them linger any longer than they have to. I cry because I love deeply. I don’t know what tomorrow may bring but I do know I am loved and I value every moment I share with others.

Now, the driving part was actually easier than I expected. It was a road trip party for 1. I drove 10 hours to Washington D.C. to see my childhood best friend Bella. The next morning finished the last 4 hours of my drive. Since then I’ve been seeing family and friends non-stop. Studying for the GRE was not a thing these last two weeks, but that’s okay. When I look back at my life at least I know that I prioritized the things that matter most to me. It’s important for me to be around my loved ones because we have such a unique relationship. Plus, I know that I’m a hard-working, driven individual. I may not know what lies ahead, but I know it will be rewarding.

Everyone asks me if I’m excited or nervous for this trip. My response is, “Neither.” I’m more curious than anything. My social and cultural upbringing, along with my life experiences, have prepared me for this trip. It’s going to be a new experience, a new world, a new life style, and I am prepared for this new journey. It’s going to be challenging but that’s the point; I want to be pushed out of my comfort zones. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I am beyond thankful for this Lumos scholarship. The journey continues my loves.

Follow my blog account on Instagram for more photos and posts of my journey! @lifebeyondthevines.

Con cariño,

Rachel Mercedes Beihl

P.S. I am 100% balling my eyes out tomorrow when I say goodbye to my parents. (:

7 Weeks and Counting!

Sep 9, 2018

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I feel like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland when he says, “I’m late! I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!” While everything is set up for Spain, I am scurrying to finish my home “to-do list” before I leave. During these past 18 weeks post-graduation, I have been hustling! I’ve been nannying, tutoring, adjusting to living on my own, preparing for graduate school and experiencing everything else in between. It has been a summer for the books for sure! With all the events that have happened this past year, it feels as though time is flying more than ever, for better or worse. But I am extremely proud of all that I have accomplished along the way. Before I know it, I’ll be headed on a 14 hour drive home to spend time with my family and then off to Spain for four months.

I have not spent a significant amount of time thinking about the trip. Honestly, I try to practice not fixating on anything but the present moment. It’s healthier for me to live that way. Plus, I’ve been preoccupied with an eventful summer. Realistically, the present is all I have time for. The emotions have come in waves and up until now they’ve been extremely spread apart. At this moment I am filled with curiosity and excitement. The only one thing I worry about is what might happen to my loved ones when I’m gone; ya know, the type of things that are out of my control. Unfortunate events occurred while I was away this past year, and it’s natural that this is a worry of mine. Although it’s not easy living 14 hours away from large family, I’ve managed to do very well thanks to FaceTime and the amazing group of individuals I’ve befriended in Nashville. Our special bond has carried me a long way.

That’s why I remain positive, happy, and thrilled for this trip because everything in me can feel that this is where I need to be and what I need to be doing, and it feels right. New beginnings like these are my favorite. It can be unnerving, but I love the emotions attached to the unknown. I’ve always believed in the wanderer that lives inside of me. I can’t wait for what this new experience brings.

Con cariño,

Rachel Mercedes Beihl

P.S.

I want to end this post by promising to be extremely honest with you and with myself during this journey. Honesty is humiliating, humbling, and beautiful but it is also misunderstood. We expect others to be honest with us, yet we spend more time lying to ourselves than anyone else. I myself have done this numerous times but I am not ashamed. I remind myself that perfection is not the goal, growth is. That is why I have spent the last four years seeking the most authentic version of myself before the lies altered my perception of life. Although it has been a personal journey, I have opened my world to the public through blogging and Instagram in hopes of inspiring others. By no means has this journey been easy but it has most certainly been gratifying. I am beyond excited for the new journey that is to come and the lessons that follow. For more insight on this journey follow my Instagram blog @lifebeyondthevines! xoxo

Baadae Africa

Aug 2, 2018

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September 23, 2017

I didn’t realize saying goodbye to Tanzania would be this hard. The airplane just took off from Dar and my eyes filled with tears. When I first landed in Africa I was actually pretty scared and worried from everything I had been told and I was hesitant to officially step off the plane once it landed; however, now as I’m leaving I don’t want the wheels on the plane to go off the ground.

How is it possible that I came as a stranger but left with so many rafikis? Even though these friends may be on the other side of the globe once I’m back in America, they’re still lifelong friends. There’s a connection that is formed when you travel to a new place and befriend the people there. Your friendship accelerates a million times more and the bond you share is so special. I feel that way about all of the people that I met through Work the World and all of the amazing people that actually live in Tanzania.

I just don’t know how to put into words the people that are in Tanzania. They are such beautiful people with such amazing hearts. I’m going to miss walking by the shoe maker Sharkan and the painter Mirajisekulamba every morning when I would go into work and would get back from work. They were always there with a grin on their face shouting, “Maji, mabo?!” I’m going to miss all the phrases and speaking in Swahili and my dear Swahili teacher, Jacob. I’m also going to miss all of the Swahili food and Swahili music/dancing. I’m going to miss knowing so many of the nurses, nursing students, and doctors throughout the various units and how great of friends we all became. Like going on weekend adventures with Florida or going to Jane’s house for dinner and church with her beautiful family. I’m going to miss everyone from Work the World like Mo, Jesca, Edito, Faraja, Beda, Naama, and all the security men. I could write an entire book on everything they’ve done for me. They always asked about my day and were there for me all the time! Jesca went to the hospital with me every time I had to go for my dressing change. I’m going to miss seeing my waiters at the local restaurants and how they’d always hug me and knew me by name. Amos and Maraja were my two favorites. Amos would always make me a special smoothie at the Red Tomato before it closed down and then he moved to Salty’s where I ate my last meal in Tanzania and he waited on me. I’m going to miss our talks about his sweet wife and family and his commute every day. Maraja worked at Shooters and every Thursday when everyone would go celebrate he always chose a special dessert for me. My favorite was the Mississippi Mud Pie. When I had my job interview for Vanderbilt and had to use the wifi at Shooters he helped get me a spot and accommodated me so sweetly.

This was today when I was saying goodbye to everyone.

Everyone, meet Mo. My bomba, bomba rafiki. Love this man.

Meet Sharkan! The shoemaker! He made me and my friends back home several shoes. I’ll never be able to forget his kindness and face.

Meet Mirajisekulamba! The painter. He and the shoe maker worked right next to one another. He always gave me a hard time for not being able to say his name perfectly, hahaha. He also painted me many beautiful paintings for my loved ones back home.

This is Faraja. One of the chefs in the house. He has a heart of chocolate. Sweet and pure.

Maraja! He was the waitor at Shooter’s and my beautiful friend Dianne.

I’m going to miss how everyday was so different at the hospital and I never knew which new friend I was going to make next! It was always an adrenal rush. I’m actually going to miss the crazy dala dala and bijaji rides too! Even though every time I would get in a mode of transportation here I was scared for my life because of how people drive here. Gotta love no street rules.

Moreover, I’m going to miss going to the local market and bargaining for every item so you don’t get mzungu price. I’ll miss all my friends there too (they literally knew me by name because of how many times I have been souvenir shopping… If only you could’ve seen me at the airport: 2 large suitcases, one backpack, one long side purse that looked like Mary Poppins handbag because of its depth, and my purse!) I wanted to make sure I was able to get everyone at least something from Africa! I wish I could bring all my loved ones here so they could just see how spectacular it truly is.

I’m simply going to miss the way of life in Tanzania with how people live. The people in Dar truly humbled me and I just don’t know how I could ever pay it back. If I had to say what my favorite part of Africa was it would 100% be the people and culture. I’m so grateful to be able to say that I have a family in Tanzania.

In addition, there are two things that have really been on mind over the last few weeks. What is it going to be like going back into a Western country when I’ve gotten so use to life here? Lastly, what am I supposed to do from here? I’ve seen all of these things and my heart and eyes have been opened to so much. My biggest fear is simply going back to the western world and have Africa just be a memory. Africa is literally like a different world. How am I supposed to connect these two worlds that I know? What am I meant to do from here in terms of helping the health care system in Africa? Change is made by many little steps and it takes a long time. However, nothing will happen unless we fight for that change.

Halfway home:

I am being overwhelmed with thoughts as I am hopping from airplane to airplane getting closer to returning to America. My first flight from Dar to Switzerland I cried the entire time. The lady I sat beside was actually a retired nurse who use to work at Muhimbli. We had such a great conversation. Her family owns a little pastry shop in the city market. She must have thought I was emotionally unstable though because all I would do when we weren’t talking is just stare at the seat in front of me and let the tears roll down my face. For 8 hours I did that. All the memories flashing in my mind and the fear of returning. I’m not sure why it is a fear. I am just worried this will only be a memory. How do I connect the two worlds? People in both of my worlds aren’t connected and I am anxious with how I will convey with everyone everything I experienced. It is honestly impossible. You just have to experience it yourself. No matter how many times you talk about it or how many pictures you show it doesn’t do it justice. I feel like I will be beating a dead horse and won’t be able to relate to what I once called home. Ignorance is truly bliss.

One thing that has been on my mind is how easy it is to simply come and go for Americans. A lot of people in Africa may never be able to come to America based on restrictions we have. It’s sad that most of the people I know will never go to Africa because of the “unknown” and stories that have been told. On the flip side, most of my rafikis in Tanzania won’t be able to come to the states due to money as well as restrictions we have set forth. It just makes me upset these two amazing worlds won’t get to meet or come into contact. It is something that I am internally struggling with.

Lastly, since I have begun my trip back home a few things have stood out to me. There is ACTUAL A/C, mzungus are everywhere, there is no body odor, there is actual Wi-Fi and proper electricity, there is toilet paper in the bathrooms, and there are no bugs anywhere. All the paint in the buildings is nicely done and there’s no dirt anywhere. It’s funny to me how these things never really stood out to me in Dar. I just accepted them. However, now that I am reacclimating into Western society they are extremely apparent. I am at the airport in Geneva right now and my next stop will be Chicago. From there I will be NASHVILLE BOUND! Yay. Very bitter sweet.

Aga Khan- September 5th

Sep 5, 2017

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Being the Patient

This last week was probably the first time I was really home sick and wanted to be back in the states. When you’re not feeling well in a foreign country it really makes you long to be home. I honestly wasn’t sick or anything! I was just in a lot of pain. Thursday of last week I had a little red spot under my left armpit. Over the next 5 days it kept getting bigger and was hurting more and more. It got so bad to the point that on Tuesday, September the 5th, when I was at work I couldn’t even lift my arm up. I had to hold onto my arm at the hospital to help decrease the pain. When I got home from work I knew I needed to get it checked out. I went to Mo who is the program manager and asked him if I could be seen by a doctor anywhere. He said that I will go to Aga Khan and that it’s a mzungu hospital. Meaning that it somewhat similar to western hospital’s. This is a private hospital in Dar which is a lot different to Muhimbili which is a public hospital and is the biggest regional hospital in Tanzania. Private hospitals are way too expensive for people to afford in Africa so the everyday person in Dar would not go to a private one.

I was extremely hesitant and scared that I was having to actually go to the hospital! In AFRICA. I made sure to get two different kinds of international health insurance because I was so worried about something like this happening and the last thing I wanted to happen was to get treatment here. Not that it’s a bad place but it’s severely under resourced and not everyone abides by hand sanitation and proper sterile technique. It was SUCH an eye-opening experience being on the flip side of the healthcare system. Like being a patient rather than a nurse or healthcare professional. My heart was beating extremely fast and I was so scared. I didn’t know what I was going to have to have done. Mo said I would go with Jessica who is the program assistant and they called a taxi for me and we were off. My heart was beating so fast and I was so scared. I didn’t know what I was going to have to have done. I kept asking Jessica if there was another place we could go to as an a doctor’s clinic like we have back in the states. For example, a Walgreens walk in clinic or fast pace. However, she said that there aren’t any places like that and if there are they’re extremely rare and under resourced. So, you have to go to the hospital. We got there and walked up to a counter to explain what was going on. Everyone was speaking Swahili around me and Jessica would translate after they were done talking. The woman at the counter had told Jessica since I was a new patient and had never been there before that I needed to check in and give my information to the new patient area. We went to this room and opened the door but no one was there. Therefore, we waited outside the room until a gentleman approached us and asked if we needed to be seen. A few moments later he got a lady who told me to come into the room. She spoke English as well as Swahili. I sat down and she went to a computer. There was a tv that I could view that showed everything she was typing. She asked my name, DOB, emergency contact, etc. Instead of asking where I was from she just put foreigner. She asked what doctor I was seeing. I told her I didn’t know. After she got my information she then made me a folder with all of my information. She told me to go to billing with the folder. I went to billing (which by the way nothing was laid out easily. Everything was all over the place). Once I arrived to billing they asked me what doctor I needed to see. I honestly had no idea! I thought a skin doctor maybe? Jessica said we weren’t sure so we’d have a nurse look at me. This entire process was so different and almost frustrating me up to this point. I felt like a ping pong ball constantly being shifted to the next person with nothing actually getting done. We then went to a hallway where a nurse was sitting and taking someone’s vitals. Jessica explained the situation and she said to have a seat and that she’d be right with us. However, once she finished with that patient she left the hallway and went to another room. She then came back to the hallway a few minutes later and started talking to someone on her cell phone. It’s so interesting here how the doctors and nurses will do that! I’ve seen several nurses hanging up IV bags and then they get a phone call on their personal cell. They’ll stop what they’re doing with the patient right there and will begin to talk on their phone and have a full-on conversation. While we were waiting Jessica explained how she was at awe at the hospital. She had never been in one like this before. In my head I was like, “Really... ? This place compares to nothing back home really.” She was saying how clean and nice it was and how fast we were being seen. For me though I thought it was taking AGES. However, in other hospitals’ like the public ones you can wait multiple hours just for someone to sign you in.

30 minutes went by and I was getting a little upset. How the culture is here can be very different and almost annoying. Usually I can let it roll off my back and it doesn’t bother me. Everyone is just very hakuna matata, no worries. No one ever rushes or stresses about things. There’s a saying they use, “Swahili time.” Which basically means they’ll get to it when they get to it. They may say they’ll be there at 8am. They may be there by then or they may be there at 10am. Not because they’re late but just because. Jessica told me to sit beside the nurse because she may have forgotten about us. I uncomfortably got up and sat right beside the nurse while she was still on the phone with her friend. I was just staring at her (internally this was going against my typical Karah ways. I always try to be respectful and considerate. However, I did not feel like she was treating me that way). She looked at me and soon ended her phone conversation. She apologized to Jessica in Swahili and simply said she had forgotten about me. Without even asking my name or telling me her name she simply asked me what was wrong. I showed her my arm. She didn’t even touch it or look at it for more than 5 seconds. She started making phone calls to the hospital and got me a spot with a Dr. We went upstairs where we waited once again for the doctor to see us. Someone finally stepped out of one of the rooms and summoned me into his office. He was on his phone talking with someone at his desk. He pointed to the chair for me to sit down. Once again, I was just twiddling my thumbs while he was on his cell phone with a friend. It was so strange to me! He was an Indian man problem in his late 50’s or early 60’s with a thick accent and peppered hair. Once he got off he just looked at me and was like, “So, what’s the problem?” No introduction or anything! I explained I had a big red bump under my armpit and he just said go sit over there. He was pointing to an examination table. Once I sat down he walked over towards me and touched the mass under my arm. Without gloves on or anything. After looking at it for about 10 seconds he was like, “That’s an abscess. We’re going to have to make an incision and drain it.” He began writing orders down. It was so different compared to the US. Typically, the nurse will get your vitals, take your history, etc. and the doctor will ask you the same questions. No one had even asked if I had any allergies! He began to collect his backpack and belongings while saying I would have to have surgery. S U R G E R Y ?!?! I tried to maintain my composure and simply said, “How big will this incision be?” He said, “Oh, not that big. It’ll be a minor surgery.” He just subpoenaed me to the door at that point and we stepped outside his office. When I asked him where we’re going he explained that I had to go to billing and pay and that his assistant would do the minor operation in the OPERATING ROOM. At this point I was holding in all my tears and fear. It was like I was in a bad dream. This was something I had to address and get fixed. I couldn’t ignore it. But the place I was in was extremely scary. It was like facing a fear you never knew you had all of a sudden and you knew no matter what you did you couldn’t prevent it from happening. He pointed to billing which was on the same floor we were on and then he pointed downstairs and said to go through those doors after I paid. I literally felt like I was walking to my death. I may be over exaggerating here but I really did. Every step I took, every breath I breathed, every time I swallowed my heart beat just kept getting faster and faster. I wanted to run out of there and not look back. The doctor then left and I approached the billing counter where I pre-paid for the surgery, dressings, and the 5-minute doctor consultation. Jessica and I then went downstairs to the operating area. We were just standing in the middle of the hallway waiting for the assistant. Within 15 minutes a lady probably in her late 20’s or early 30’s approached me. I felt a lot better with her compared to the main doctor. Her interactions with me were better and I was more at ease with her. She explained she was the assistant and would be doing my surgery. She pointed me to the operating room I would be in. I sat up on the bed and just took a big gulp. I was staring around the room just taking everything in. The lights were a bit dim and there were mosquitoes flying nearby the bed. I looked at the sheets on the bed and there was a dark droplet of blood that had stained the sheet about 2 inches from where my legs were hanging off the table. The assistant began to get everything prepared. I was eyeing her like a hawk. Making sure she never contaminated her sterile field. She didn’t. I was very relieved and at the same time impressed. It made me feel a little bit better knowing that I was in competent hands of someone.

It was time for the minor procedure. I was lying down on the bed with my left arm up over my head. She tried injecting me with an anesthetic but it didn’t work. She kept asking if I could feel what she was doing. She was stabbing the needle in my armpit. I could feel it. She tried injecting more in me. After three times of doing this it still wasn’t working. She ended up saying that she was just going to have to proceed with the surgery. I could feel EVERYTHING. She sliced my armpit open and drained everything. I was positioning myself against the wall clamping my eyes shut trying to keep my tears from coming out. However, I broke down. I was just bawling and bawling. The pain was hellacious! Jessica came over to me and started rubbing my leg. It felt like it was taking her so long to do it. Every second seemed like ages. The pain was unbearable. She ended up having to stuff my armpit with a gauze 2 inches deep. 2 INCHES! I didn’t realize how deep it was stuffed until the next time I went to the hospital to have the dressing changed. I had to go back every day and then every other day for almost a week. When I wore my bandage under my armpit it was quite uncomfortable. One of the staff members at the Work the World house said I looked like a bouncer because I had my arm always positioned outwards, haha. Too funny. But that was just because of how thick the dressing was.

When I went back to the hospital the next time around it was worse than before. Ample times worse. I don’t know how it was possible but it was so dreadful. I honestly couldn’t remember another time I had been in such pain as I was in that day. They had given me pain meds but I had taken them because I was worried they would contraindicate the antimalaria pills I was taking. I was NOT a fan of the nurse that did my dressing change. Whatsoever.. This man I had just clashed. He was very forceful and not empathetic whatsoever. As he was preparing his sterile field I asked if he could please put his sterile gloves on before he touched my wound. He stared at me with wonderment in his eyes. He simply said, “Why would I put on sterile gloves when your wound is not sterile?” My internal buzzer was going off in my head! How could he ask that? I wanted to restate what he had just said to me so he could hear his own statement. I simply said politely, “Can you please wear your sterile gloves?” He just glared at me and said, “No.” The rest was history. He yanked the dry gauze from out of my wound. Imagine a wound that was trying to heal and the skin closing in on the gauze and then someone just ripping it out of you. O U C H. I felt like I was a child lying on the surgery table. I was pushing his hand away, clenching my jaw, and just letting the tears flow. I was excruciating. Every second agonizing. I was dripping in sweat from no A/C and from the pain. This is going to sound mean but I just wanted to slap him. He was staring at me like I was a complete imbecile. In their culture it is not proper to cry and show pain. Even the children will endure pain without flinching. In his eyes he thought I was being absurd and totally unreasonable. After he was done repacking the wound he tried to get me to do exercises by lifting my arm up and rotating it. I shoved his hand off of me and walked away with tears weltering up in my eyes. I was in so much pain that was not the right time to do that.

When we got back to the Work the World I called Sam (my boyfriend). I was just crying and crying on the phone to him telling him I wanted to come home. I was at my breaking point. I will never forget that phone call. I was in despair and anguish. I felt trapped in a foreign country. I was so worried about it getting infected. Up until this point I was okay. Sam calmed me down on the phone and I caved into taking one of the pain pills. Once I wasn’t in pain anymore I was able to truly reflect on the situation.

When I take a step back I am able to see how this situation I was acting a bit extreme. Mainly because I was in a healthcare environment that was foreign to me. It is ironic. I have been here for so many weeks working in the hospital and seeing how healthcare is implemented. However, when I was finally on the other side of it I lost it. I can’t put into words the feelings I felt when I was the only white person in the hospital. Everyone would just stare. I had been tolerant of not knowing the language that well up to this point but when you are needing treatment and can’t understand what is being said because it’s being spoken in a different language it is extremely frightening. I felt like an outsider. There was no way I could blend in. I was okay being that way when I was working in the hospital but now that I’m the patient I felt extremely vulnerable and uncomfortable. It was like I had, had an epiphany from this event. Is this what minorities feel like? Being stared at and singled out just because of their appearance? Is this how the patients felt at Muhimbili when the nurses and doctors would talk to me in English and they didn’t understand the language? It was SUCH an eye-opening experience being on the flip side of the healthcare system. Like being a patient rather than a nurse or healthcare professional. Now that I am on the up mend of recovery I can truly say how grateful I am for this experience. I now have my little scar from the incision that I refer to as my Tanzanian tattoo. It will always be a constant reminder that everything happens for a reason and that I should always try to emphasize with people I come into contact with. Cultural competency is so essential. Especially in the healthcare industry.