Every time I feel like I know what is coming next, Tanzania proves me otherwise. That being said, my first true day in the hospital did not go exactly as planned. A recap of May 24th, 2017.

I grew up in and around hospital settings: visiting my mother at work, tagging along with my father in operating rooms, and while some people associate hospitals with negativity, I’ve learned to navigate various healthcare settings in a different way. Walking into Jengo la Watoto that morning, I felt confident and a sense of comfort in the clean tile floors and buzz of activity and people.

However, these feelings quickly vanished when I ventured upstairs to the oncology ward. It was evident from the get-go that there wasn’t a clear place for me and my two peers in this wing or a point of contact to shadow. The ward was crowded, very busy, and the head nurse was preoccupied with another nurse who was crying and clearly upset about something. We were left to wander until someone showed us to a European looking doctor. When I first saw her, a small weight lifted from my chest and I thought to myself “Ah, a doctor that probably speaks good English! She’ll be able to show us around and explain so much!” Communication had been difficult with the oncology nurses earlier (were we supposed to take our bags around with us or leave them?), only contributing to the sense of confusion I felt.

We introduced ourselves to the European doctor and after telling her that we were at Jengo la Watoto for two weeks, and the oncology ward for only two days, the doctor immediately dismissed us. She called us “medical tourists” to our faces, here for the wrong reasons and absolutely of no use to her. Her frustration was so strong I could feel it radiating off of her. After chastising us for being medical tourists a little longer, she went back to work conversing with patients in the waiting room. It was a discouraging interaction, to say the least.

I’ve had some very productive debriefs about this incident, both internal and with others. In the moment, there was no use fighting the doctor’s words. She didn’t give us a chance to explain ourselves and to some extent I understand her point. At first glance, we do appear as medical tourists. I’m almost glad this confrontation happened so early and to me specifically because it has prompted a lot of reflection in my cohort and myself. Existential questions such as “why am I here?” and “am I a medical tourist??” have been circulating through my head. My final answer is no, I am not a medical tourist, because I would not have written this entry if I was one, and I firmly believe that everything I’m observing and learning in Tanzania will ultimately inform my future career choices and make me a competent health professional. I can’t expect everyone to be so supportive of my purpose here and so it’s best to keep shedding any and all expectations I have of my next few weeks here.