Endurance in Kenya

Last semester, while most of my peers were jetting around Europe, I decided to study abroad in Kenya through the School of Field Studies. It’s not to say that I’m uninterested in traveling to Europe, but knowing that studying in an African country would be a “once in a lifetime” experience and wanting to escape the daily frenzies of New York City, I decided to pack my bags for Kenya. I packed knowing that my world for three months would be turned completely inside-out—I would be living on a bush camp, my Internet access (and in a sense, my connection to the outside world) would be limited, and I would be battling unsavory elements of nature (especially the insect kind). It was time to test the old saying that New Yorkers could handle anything.

Looking back, it took some effort adjusting to most aspects of the program, but once I got into the swing of daily camp life, I found that most activities were quite feasible and enjoyable. Having to reverse my sleeping habits was a pain in the beginning, but it was a delight to participate in guided nature walks at the crack of dawn and watch the sunrise. Living elbow-to-elbow with 34 other students and 20 staff members made me feel claustrophobic at first, but it ultimately provided me with opportunities to make some lifelong friends. Even having to conduct a research project and complete a final paper in three weeks wasn’t daunting. From those tedious six-day weeks of classes, I learned more about Kenyan ecology, history, policy, and culture than I had expected when I initially applied for the program.

Therefore, the moments in which I struggled in Kenya were the times when I saw firsthand the injustices that plague a developing country and the daily struggles that Kenyans have to grapple with just to survive. It was difficult to even get over the fact that while I was living in a camp full of amenities and fenced off from the rest of the community, others were not as lucky. In those moments, I recall being conflicted with overwhelming feelings of futility for what I couldn’t do for the people around me and appreciation for what I had in my life. Participating in community service at local Kenyan institutions, however, provided me with an outlet to ease these concerns and served to reveal life lessons that could not be taught back home.

One of our first community service events was volunteering for a traveling clinic around the town of Loitoktok, which was located a good hour away from our camp, at a place closer to the local Maasai who wouldn’t normally seek medical care from the town’s hospital. We went into the event excited by the possibility of working with infants and children and left with more serious thoughts on our minds.

The building that housed the clinic was a small wooden edifice with doors made from uneven scraps of wood and a scarce supply of furnishings and medical equipment. There were several benches with tables that served as both medical stations and waiting areas, but most of the patients waited outside. At the clinic, I volunteered to help with the prenatal area of the clinic, working with a nurse from the Loitoktok Hospital.

The demand for HIV testing was much higher than the demand for prenatal examinations, however, and we were soon forced to switch to administering rapid HIV tests instead. Due to liability issues, students weren’t allowed to conduct any of the tests, but I stayed with the nurse and filled out paperwork. As I monitored the door to make sure that only one patient entered at a time, I noticed the throng of Maasai women, men, and children, arriving and sitting outside the door, lined up for testing. I was touched by their endurance—many had had to walk miles of unpaved road to find the clinic.

But the clinic only had 14 HIV test kits available. Out of the 14 women and children, three mothers tested positive for HIV. And so, after reading statistics and articles about the AIDS epidemic in Africa, I finally witnessed firsthand the harshness of such a reality. After explaining the test results to the three mothers, the nurse seemed certain that the women were not going to follow her suggestions and seek treatment. The hospital was not only far from their homes, but society placed numerous duties on their shoulders that would make leaving the homestead for even a couple of hours difficult.

I think back to this experience because it has affected me in so many ways. It reminds me every day about the importance of pursuing a lifestyle in which I must continue to show compassion and serve humanity. Our actions toward others are the ultimate reflection of ourselves.

The author is a Barnard College junior majoring in environmental science and human rights.