Working in the hospitals in Arusha was a daily challenge but an enjoyable one. Each and every day we faced a new obstacle with the language barrier but soon learned enough Swahili to be able to get a message across to a patient or their loved ones. This came about most in the vaccination clinics; we were helping to administer vitamins, aiding with vaccinations and immunizations and helping to register new babies into a government system. It was difficult to ask the mothers questions and even more difficult to properly record their answers in Swahili but the more practice I had with it, the easier it started to be. Short phrases came more and more easily with time and I slowly began to comprehend more throughout the trip.

Sanitation was a factor that was hard to cope with within the hospitals and the life style in general. Cleaning of patient beds was often done with dingy soap water and the sterilization of medical tools and supplies was not up to the standards of the U.S. When talking to fellow volunteers and the professionals that we worked with and followed, we were all aware that a lot of the sanitation problems were due to a lack of supply. What could be altered without the requirement of additional supplies, the doctors and nurses were glad to learn from us. They were eager to learn whatever they could in order to help their patients.

Another factor that was hard to adjust to was the slow pace of Africa. “Pole pole,” is a very common term in Tanzania and it means, slowly slowly. The lifestyle is very relaxed and coming from the United States, where we are constantly planning, cramming and in a rush, it was difficult to adjust to something that is the exact opposite of what we know. Eventually, I was able to understand the beauty of the slower paced life. Citizens were happy and relaxed. It was only in the hospitals that I continued to struggle with the slow pace and relaxation. In these settings it still seemed more appropriate, to me, to have a sense of urgency. When it came to patients health and well-being, I thought it necessary to try and complete a task as soon as possible. Especially when some came from miles away to be treated or receive medication.

Transportation was another complication with the treatment of patients. There were multiple patients every day that had traveled for hours to arrive at the hospital. Some came by car or bus but many came by foot and had to walk for hours. This is a problem because it makes visiting a health center far more complicated for families. When filling out newborns registration cards, one question that we asked was where was the baby born, at home, in a hospital or on the way? Even if public transportation is available to some, many are still not able to afford the rates.

However, all of these factors and situations were a part of the society, a part of their culture and there is no way to say that it is wrong. It is different and it is simple. There is beauty in simplicity. Parts of this differing culture could benefit our own process, as ours could theirs.

My first week in Arusha, Tanzania was a blur. Zooming cars, screaming citizens, a foreign language, completely losing myself within the city and the culture. It was chaos, crazy but thrilling and absolutely wonderful. The city of Arusha is far larger than I expected and is relatively diverse, filled with people of all classes, religion and color. There are some individuals that are welcoming and eager to question and there are some that prefer to observe you from afar. Overall it is a bustling city that is full of life.

I arrived in Tanzania on a Sunday morning after approximately fifty hours of traveling; it was warm, humid and beautiful. I was exhausted but this didn’t cease me from taking in the beautiful green wilderness around me, trees, flowers, grasses and blue skies. After making it through customs, attaining a visa and my baggage and reporting the missing baggage that had somehow lost its way among the several airports I walked outside to find Christopher, my guide and driver that would take me to the volunteer house.

From the airport, heading into Arusha, there was an evident change. The site from the window started as vast brown and green farmland with children roaming along the side of the roads herding goats and cattle, houses were few and far between, mostly constructed of dirt and sticks, others with concrete. Getting closer to the city houses became more frequent and the number of people increased. The roads were incredibly bumpy and the traffic was horrific at first. Eventually I grew used to the constant swerving and honking, the passing of other cars regardless of oncoming traffic and the occasional pedestrian standing in the middle of the street among the traffic.

Arriving at the house, I met fellow volunteers that were from Denmark, Georgia, Greece, France and Spain, all of which were volunteering within some program throughout the city; some were volunteering with the farming community, some orphanages, schools and some were fellow medical volunteers. They told me of their own studies and experiences.

The next day I participated in an orientation and was shown around to a lot of necessary locations throughout the city such as a bank, a grocery store, the market and the hospitals. After the first day, our group walked to the hospitals together. We met the doctors and nurses that we would be working with and began following them. Throughout the next few days we learned the procedures and protocol of the hospitals.

Our mode of transportation in Arusha was our feet. Walking several miles a day allowed us to see more and more of the city we were in. It also allowed us to experience more of the culture. The streets were always crowded with both people and vehicles. It was loud and chaotic. Crossing the street was nearly impossible. Cars were always driving quickly, ignoring the few traffic signs and passing other vehicles at any time. The sidewalks were filled with children walking to school, the homeless with their belongings, women selling corn and peanuts and others walking to and from stores or the hospitals at which we volunteered.

The hospitals we volunteered at were far different from those of the states. Sanitation was extremely lacking compared to the US standards and there was less supplies to work with. Considering the conditions, the nurses and physicians did do a great job with what they were given. Sanitation was something that we tried to address within our group, showing the faculty the few things that we saw they could improve with the supplies that they had. The faculty were very accepting and taught anything that related to the patients and conditions that we observed and aided with. There were many conditions and situations that were difficult to comprehend and accept but I will dive into those in my next blog.

Returning home to Michigan after spending my first time abroad in a place like Argentina was definitely bittersweet.  Argentina has taught me so much about myself, education, and life itself.  It is hard to explain what specifically changes you when you travel and it can be hard to pinpoint that moment as well.  Studying abroad and learning a language and culture by being immersed is the best way to fully understand everything you attempt to understand in a classroom setting.

I was lucky enough to work on my minor in Spanish as well as complete my study abroad as a part of GLI.  Argentina has not only given my insight on Latin American culture, but it has also shown me the significance of where I’m from and what it truly means to be American.  I’m forever more appreciative of the opportunity that America gives students my age and how our freedom is truly a gift.

Even though I was in Argentina, I spent some time in Uruguay and did some traveling as well.  I made a friend from Scotland, Holland, France, and made some friends in Uruguay as well.  As never having traveled to Europe either, learning about other countries thousands of miles away by meeting up with new friends across the world was a whole other experience.  We were able to talk about politics, education, laws, rights, and of course, what we all consider the basic normalities between countries.  It was amazing to me to feel as though I know so much about this large world of ours by meeting a few people in just a miniscule part of it.

As my global theme and topic is discrimination of indigenous cultures, it was also a topic I had brought up within the meetings of new friends.  We would have dinner conversations or rooftop discussions about differences within culture of their countries in comparison with the United States or Argentina.  They all helped me really put into perspective how native people, no matter the country, influence the culture and lifestyle of that country.  I’m grateful for the opportunity Argentina has given me and I’m beyond blessed to have made friends all over the world.

Being back in the United States, I’ve had plenty of time to think about the next steps in my theme as part of the GLI Program.  My topic has led me to many different areas of thinking and processing the questions of social inequality and the issue of discrimination of indigenous cultures.  I have raised some questions for myself of where to take me next steps and in what direction:

• Is the discrimination of other countries influence in a culture considered indigenous if the inhabitants have moved by immigration?
• What defines an indigenous group?
• Does gender have an influence in this issue? (If so, how large of an influence?)
• What conclusions have I made on the issue based on my time spent in Argentina? Is there a resolution I propose that could help dissolve the idea of discrimination within Argentine or within the United States?

Among the most important knowledge I have built during my studies in Chile is that of Spanish grammar. As a native English speaker hoping to teach Spanish, my understanding of grammar is of utmost importance. That’s where the real work of teaching or learning a second language is—vocabulary can be memorized, but grammar has to be understood.

One aspect of Spanish grammar that has challenged me as long as I’ve studied the language is the subjunctive mood. It’s not something often discussed outside of language classrooms, because it’s difficult to express exactly what it is or why it’s a necessary part of some sentences. Even Spanish speakers who use it regularly are often at a loss if asked to explain it; they rely on their implicit (unconscious) knowledge of their native language.

English also has a subjunctive mood, but it’s not common. We see it in this sentence: “The company requires that you be first-aid certified.” Notice how the second verb (the one in the subordinate clause) has changed its form. It would be ungrammatical in many other contexts to say “you be first-aid certified,” at least in most English dialects.

So in certain sentences with subordinate clauses, the verb in the subordinate clause takes a different form. This is the subjunctive. Contrary to what some students and teachers of Spanish may tell you, the subjunctive is not a verbal tense, but a verbal mood. It’s a different property independent of tense. The mood used in the majority of Spanish sentences, and virtually all those in English, is the indicative mood. In English the subjunctive form is just the verb’s infinitive. Spanish, in contrast, has a whole different set of subjunctive conjugations to be learned.

For my fellow students/potential teachers of Spanish, I assure you there is hope. My understanding of this challenging aspect of Spanish grammar really clicked after we discussed it in my grammar class. I began to notice it more in spoken Spanish, and now I actually feel fairly confident using it (and much more aware of which sentences require it). In addition to this encouragement, I offer these resources, which I have helped me in my study of the subjunctive and Spanish in general:

• WordReference is my favorite online Spanish-English dictionary. Among its many useful features is a verb conjugator that gives all the forms of a verb, including the subjunctive of every tense. It’s available on the website, as a free app (for iOS or Android), and as a browser extension (for Chrome or Firefox).
• Verbix is another useful conjugation tool. It can conjugate English verbs, one of the few things WordReference won’t do.
• Linguee is a different dictionary website. It doesn’t conjugate verbs, but it lets you see words in context, giving examples in official documents that have been translated into both languages.
• This song, which my professor played for our class, has many examples of the subjunctive in Spanish being used with the expression “Ojalá.” (Listen in better quality on Spotify.)

¡Espero que puedas entender el subjuntivo!

“Umeshiba?” I ask little George, in Swahili. (“Are you full?”)

He looks up at me lazily. He is mentally disabled, and he cannot feed himself. His bib has some food on it, but not too much. Some of the children I fed smiled. Others stare blankly. But  after each feeding session, the bowl is demolished, the spoon licked clean.

“Umeshiba?” I ask again, tickling his protruding bellies.

Sometimes that’s the best question you can ask a child in Kenya.

Earlier we went to Mother Theresa’s Home in Huruma (a slum in Nairobi). My director told us to “look for Jesus” in the people we interact with. I saw Jesus in the eyes of Marine and Christine and Moses and little Georgiana. I saw Jesus in the workers and the Sister nuns who devote their lives to this ministry of taking care of the “least of these.” I saw Jesus in Hailey, who made the children balloon hats; and Kelsey, who cuddled the smallest child, who could barely sit up in her crib. I saw Jesus in Jennifer, who began dancing and singing, doing her best to cheer up even the most non-responsive child sitting drowsily in her chair. I saw Jesus in their tiny fingers and smiles and in each kiss on the head. My director said that the human spirit transcends the cerebral cortex, and I couldn’t have put in a better way. Even the simplest reaction communicates that there is someone there, a human spirit, inside. These kids, although limited in many ways, still can experience love, compassion and provision, even if they do not respond in the cosignatory way we expect.

I don’t mean to sound romantic about it. After all, they are orphans. They are helpless. Some have literally been thrown away in trash sacks, are found by police, and handed over to the Sisters. These are what the Bible calls the “least of these.” But it’s not God’s fault. We must realize that we humans do this to one another. As Mother Theresa said, “God does not create poverty. It was created by you and I because we don’t share.”

And just a personal note, orphanages are close to my heart, because I was abandoned as a newborn. I lived in an orphanage, tied to a high chair, until my adoptive family welcomed me into their new family and into a new life. I don’t pretend to understand what these kids have gone through, but I see the redemptive element to their story.

Even though there is brokenness and sorrow in their stories, there is sacrificial light that shines brighter. From my perspective, these children see the best of humanity. They have been shown great injustice in this world. But they also have been shown great mercy and grace by the individuals who take care of them, the individuals who do “small things with great love for God.”

Behind the walls of Mother Theresa, they experience a good quality of life, one that their senses can enjoy. They enjoy tickles. They enjoy their names being called. They love bubbles. They have simple books and learning materials. The children at the Mother Theresa’s home in Haruma are able to achieve their fullest potential, which is more than many of the children running around the slum of Haruma can ask for.

This work of feeding disabled children, laundering piles of sheets, providing 24-hr medical treatment for mentally disabled children and women is not glamorous work, but it is beautiful work. The love they experience isn’t fuzzy. Most are tied to chairs so they can’t hurt themselves. Some have to be force fed so they have enough nutrition in their little bodies. The workers don’t have the time to be constantly swatting the flies away from their tiny eyes and mouths. The love isn’t fuzzy, but it’s raw, and it’s real, and that’s what makes it beautiful to me.

Lessons that I’ve learned at Mother Theresa’s? Do a thankless job, out of love, not for affirmation. Devote time and energy consistently, and commit to those that you vow to help. I’m not sure yet in which capacity that I will help the “least of these,” but I long to find my “Calcutta”–the place of ministry that is dear to my heart and that I am passionate about; a place that even if it’s hard, it feels like it’s home–like Mother Theresa did long ago. The Mother Theresa children’s home is a little piece of heaven among all the chaos of the slum suffering; it extends compassion to those who are hurting. Maybe this sounds romantic. It’s better– it’s rubbing dirty fingers and kissing tiny heads and rubbing swollen bellies.

(The Mother Theresa quotes are taken from a book called Finding Calcutta by Mary Poplin.)

I’ve heard that studying abroad changes one’s relationship to their native culture and home country. But I didn’t expect for that to be such a prominent part of my experience in Chile. My relationships to the United States and to my own identity as being from that country have shifted significantly during my first experience living in another country.

For instance, I’ve been irritated for years by the fact that the English language doesn’t have an adjective signifying “from the United States of America” that could not also be interpreted to mean “from any part of North or South America.” Over time, the usage of the word “American” for that purpose seemed more and more acceptable to me (as in American values, American cinema, American military, American imperialism, etc.) Over time, I accepted that the alternatives I thought more appropriate (the most promising among them the noun “United Stater”) were extremely unlikely to be accepted into common use, and all but forgot about the matter.

In Spanish 201, I learned a Spanish word that distinguishes between U.S. American and the more general meaning of American: “estadounidense,” which comes from the name of the USA in Spanish: “Estados Unidos de América.” The cognate “americano” is understood as referencing the United States in most contexts, but I made the deliberate choice to use “estadounidense” to refer to my national identity while in Chile. Especially after talking to some Chileans about the subject, it seems inaccurate and disrespectful to speak in such a way that claims the only Americans (o americanos, si se habla español) are those that come from the US.

This is one of many ways I’ve become more aware of the United States as a global influence—in many cases, a negative one. I’ve become uncomfortably aware of the aggressive exportation of US culture abroad: many fast food restaurants that originated in the US can now be found in the majority of nations in the world, along with the health problems their food tends to exacerbate. Holidays are another type of cultural icon US companies push on other parts of the world. My Chilean family doesn’t celebrate Halloween, but by their own account, they are among few that do not partake. When I listen to Chilean radio stations, I hear chart-toppers from the US just as often (if not slightly more) as music in Spanish.

The general trend seems to be that culture from the United States takes root elsewhere in the world because it can be bought and sold and someone (most likely a corporation from the US) makes a profit. For the first time, I can see firsthand how my home country affects the rest of the world, culturally and economically, and there are many negative aspects that can’t easily be seen from within our United States.

At the same time, I’ve become aware of positive aspects of my own culture and nation in ways I wasn’t before I traveled internationally. From the Chileans’ admiration for artists from the United States, especially those associated with the ’60s counterculture; or inventors from the US, like the Wright Brothers or Steve Jobs, I’ve gleaned a new image of my nation. As a country, we stand for diversity and innovation. Ours was the society that brought the world the electric guitar, the Internet, and sent human beings to the Moon… I’ve reaffirmed the US-American values I do identify with, even as I critique other aspects of my country’s legacy.

I know I’ll return from Chile with a different answer to the question, “What does it mean to be from the United States?” as well as to the question “What does it mean to be an American?”

For the first time, I think of those as two separate identities.