University of Michigan School of Public Health
I wrote a few posts offline earlier this summer - this first one is from May, just after I arrived in Rwanda.
I am on the continent of Africa.
It feels surreal.
I landed in Kigali on Sunday night (May 15). Members of the
TIP team met me at the airport, and we all piled into a car for the final leg
of my journey. I did not watch the time closely, but I think it took us around
3 hours – maybe less – to get to Ruli, my new home. Once we left the outskirts
of Kigali, we traveled north along a bumpy dirt road, climbing the mountains of
this land of a thousand hills. I thanked God for the night. Since it was so
dark (there were no lights, except for our headlights and those of passing cars
or motorcycles), I couldn’t see how close we were at times to the edge of the
mountain. Ignorance is bliss.
Feeling exhausted after spending 22 hours on 3 different
planes (not including layovers …). I tried to get some sleep in the car. Unfortunately,
my body constantly bouncing up and down inhibited me from doing much more than
closing my eyes and laying my head down. And then sitting right back up when my
head started dribbling like a basketball on the headrest.
Regardless of the factors telling me I should be nervous, the
driver made me feel confident. Navigating the roads with familiarity, he guided
the car around the worst potholes and rocks and kept track of the best places
to steer the sedan – making it rev up the mountain as though it were a sports
utility vehicle.
This may sound cheesy, but truly he reminded me of
leadership and problem-solving. Like a leader, he maintained control of the
vehicle, bore the responsibility for bringing a group of people to their
destination, and he had to navigate the difficulties and challenges before him.
At times I wanted to tell him to stop intentionally driving closer to the edge
of the road (read: mountain). Obviously though, this man knew the road well and
how to safely get us to Ruli. I – a passenger and foreigner – had nothing to add.
Thinking about how I had no option but to trust this man, I
started drawing a parallel between being in the car and my presence in Rwanda for
3 months. I came to work with The Ihangane Project in facilitating a leadership
retreat for department heads and administrators of a specialty hospital in Ruli.
During the retreat, participants will learn a problem-solving framework to
solve key issues within their departments. After the retreat, I will provide
support as the department heads implement solutions to these key issues.
As my eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of mountains in the
distance, I began asking myself - what will I have to offer? I’m a student in
my mid-twenties from a completely different country. Yes, I have a wealth of skills,
experience, and knowledge. But who am I to waltz into a room for a week and
tell high-level leaders (significantly older than me) how to solve problems at
a hospital? A place where some have worked for years?
I refuse to be one of those, “I’m from the United States and
I know what to do, so be quiet and listen” types of international consultants/interns/travelers. There are enough of them in the world (incurring damage…) – I
don’t need to add myself to their number.
But I also don’t won't plop myself in a corner and keep my
mouth shut for fear of overstepping, offending, or “speaking out of turn.” I
don’t know how this fellowship will turn out. I will, however, learn as much as
possible and give whatever I can that is relevant to the situations in which I
find myself, at work or in the community.
And I intend to soak in the sun and enjoy these Rwandan hills
– at a safe distance from the edges.
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