The Morehead-Cain

Outside the Lines
Working for International Health Partners
Mwanza, Tanzania

Seven weeks have already passed since I first stepped off my Precision Air flight into Mwanza on June 2nd. It’s hard to believe that I have been working here at IHP’s clinic for that long, but now that I stop to think I notice the small things that indicate I am no longer a new presence, but a part of the usual circle. Zefaniah, our favorite guard, greets me as cheerily as always, but so kindly lies through his teeth, “Ohh Amiti, very good, you are speaking Swahili now, it is very good!” Bibi, our clinic grandma, doesn’t hesitate to ask me to start an IV, granted I still defer to Jimmy. Lucy, chef extraordinaire, knows chapattis and french fries at dinner are guaranteed to make my day.

Work here has been very rewarding, as I have learned a great deal about tropical diseases and medicine, become more comfortable with blood draws than I could have ever imagined, and had the opportunity to share time with people that laugh their way through any setback. One aspect of work that truly stands out, are the general health education presentations we have done in the local schools. The initial idea was to determine where there might be a void in health education and how we could fill it. Upon asking educators and students if there was anything they needed us to present on, one answer always found its way to the top of the list: STD’s and sex education.

Last Wednesday, this seemingly benign concept led me to find myself with my friends and fellow medical students from IHP (Courtney – girl, Priyanka – girl, Natalie – girl, Sarah – girl), at the front gate of the Loreto Secondary School for Girls, ready to do a presentation on women’s health, to include: reproductive anatomy, the menstrual cycle, UTIs, yeast infections, and more. In a relatively conservative setting, this situation made me wonder what in the world I was doing there. Pepsi in a Coke culture, I was trouble.

Beyond the gates, past the guard tower, and under the archway, the grounds opened out into a beautiful landscaped courtyard flanked on all sides by concrete education blocks. My mind didn’t want to give in that I was actually nervous about this, but my involuntary physical changes yanked the cloak: erector pili muscles pulled my arm hair to attention, temperature notched up a couple, and palms became clammy. I dipped my head into the room filled with almost a hundred Form 3 girls in uniform. As we walked in and it became apparent to the Loreto girls that I was the only male presenter, the giggles and whispering began. I busied myself setting up the computer and projector, counted to ten, and looked up. This was going to be special.

Fortunately, Priyanka began the presentation and introduced reproductive anatomy and the menstrual cycle before time came for me to talk more in depth about ovulation, fertilization and dysmenorrhea. I started off strong. Ovulation and fertilization no problem. On to dysmenorrhea. “One risk factor of dysmenorrhea is having a positive family history.” Blank stares. I continued, “this means if you have a parent or a sibling who has experienced dysmenorrhea then you are more likely to have it.” Blank stares. My clammy palms had lost sensation, the room was shrinking, and sweat was forming on my receding hairline. “You know siblings, as in sisters or brothers…or, haha, obviously not brothers.” All I could do was laugh, run my hand through my hair, and look to Sarah and say, “I think it’s your turn.”

Making a mistake always makes it easier. Having butchered dysmenorrhea, everything else seemed better and the rest of the presentation went smoothly. We fielded numerous questions that shall not be repeated and were asked to come back the next day for more. After two days, I am confident the girls had a much better understanding of STD’s, how their body functions, and how they can both protect themselves and receive the care they need. Having survived Loreto, the presentations in Zanzibar should be a breeze!