Week 5

Research Reflection: Teaching Moments and Silent Patients

This week was filled with tension between care, control, and uncertainty. On Tuesday, we learned that Sister Astounta had passed away—news that felt heavy given how long she had been hospitalized. ICU rounds were already over by the time we arrived, likely rushed due to the chief’s schedule. Still, I was struck by how much time he spent educating the family of a stroke patient being discharged. Was it because the patient was in a VIP room, or because this was one of the few cases where real improvement—and teaching—was possible?

Throughout the week, ward rounds revealed issues with insulin dosing, diagnostic uncertainty, and minimal pain management—especially for patients like Eduard, whose painful edema blisters are seen as untreatable because they don’t meet criteria for "persistent" pain. It was frustrating. I also witnessed a rare moment of compassion when a relative was allowed to speak on behalf of a stroke patient, breaking the usual strict barriers between families and medical staff. At the new ICU, the contrast in resources was striking—modern infrastructure, oxygen ports, clear documentation—yet many of the same challenges remained. A nun's refusal to undergo a mammogram despite the chief’s insistence revealed a deeper tension between medical authority, religious identity, and patient autonomy.

By Friday, we were back to convulsions, antibiotic debates, and suspected tumors hidden under vague diagnoses like PUD. I’m realizing how much diagnostic power here depends on access—who can afford a CT scan or lab work—and how frequently care decisions are shaped by broader social and financial constraints. This week reminded me that clinical care here is rarely just medical but more so relational.

1) Edson, Ema and I outside the new ICU on opening day 2) The inside of the new ICU, funded by various wealthy Tanzanian organizations 3) Rachel felt left out so I got a photo with her as well 4) The entrance of the ICU is far from the rest of the hospital, right next to the morgue 5) Everyone often finds a lot of time to sit and chat despite worsening patient conditions

Cultural Reflection: Slowing Down in Iringa

This week reminded me that meaning often unfolds slowly, sometimes over two-hour meals, sunset hikes, or card games learned while waiting for rice to boil. Life in Iringa has its own rhythm, and we’re slowly syncing with it. One night, Josephina and Devota invited us to a movie night at the hostel. That sense of community only deepened later in the week, when Edson welcomed us into his home near the hospital. Hospitality here isn’t performative, it’s deeply sincere. Being invited into someone’s space felt like being trusted, not just as guests, but as friends.

Kate and I also hiked up Gangilonga Rock with our friend Solo to watch the sunset stretch across Iringa. The view was stunning, but what I’ll remember most is the quiet companionship at the top. In a place where so much of our work revolves around illness and urgency, this moment was a reminder that stillness matters too. That care can also look like someone saying, “let’s go watch the sky change colors.”

The everyday pace of Iringa has been teaching us patience in ways I didn’t expect. Waiting for meals (sometimes up to two hours) has become its own ritual. We’ve picked up card games to pass the time, but more importantly, we’ve picked up stories. Conversations unfold slowly here, with space to breathe and linger. It's a different tempo than I’m used to, but one I’ve come to appreciate.

There were other moments too—riding in a bajaj through dusty streets, babysitting in the hostel, splitting a cake from Neema Crafts just because it reminds us of cake from home. These small things have added up to something big: a sense that life here is built in layers of shared time and generosity. If the hospital is where we’re learning how people suffer and survive, the rest of Iringa is showing us how people live, and how they bring others along with them.

1) One night we had a movie night with Josephina and Devota in the hostel 2) We hiked with our friend Solo up Gangilonga Rock, a nearby lookout to see all of Iringa and watch sunset. 3) Kate and I at the top of Gangilonga 4) We've learned many card games while waiting for meals here, which typically take around two hours. 5) Kate and I during a walk to town at sunset 6) Sunset on the rock 7) Babysitting 8) Cake from Neema Craft 9) Bajaj ride home one day 10) We were invited to our friend Edson's house near the hospital