As my time in Senegal came to a close, I found myself reflecting not just on what I learned academically, but on how much I have changed as a person. The most meaningful lessons I took home didn’t come from the history lessons and long powerpoint presentations. They came from the sweaty bus rides, language barriers, and side adventures with people I hadn’t known a month earlier. As cliche as it may sound, I learned to live life a little fuller, with more love, spontaneity, and courage. I learned how to lean into discomfort instead of backing away from it.
Before this trip, I was cautious. I liked routines. I stuck with familiar foods, familiar faces, and the comfort of my own space. But something shifted in Senegal. Suddenly, a “free day” felt like a wasted day, even if I was running on two or three hours of sleep. Not speaking with a new person felt like a missed connection despite my social anxiety. Not trying a new food felt like a lost opportunity, even if my stomach disagreed with me. I didn’t want to miss a single moment, connection, or experience. I found myself eating cashew fruit right off the ground, slurping down oysters plucked fresh from mangroves, and eating entire fish…eyes, brains, and all. I became the occasional translator for my friends with my rusty french while bartering in the markets or on an unexpected nature reserve tour with some interesting guides. I even subjected myself to traditional medicine treatments that left my eyes red, my lungs burning, and my stomach once again upset.
Was I always comfortable? Not at all. I had stomach pains, moments of panic, and headaches from thinking in French for too long. However, I cherished every second of it. Each moment, even the uncomfortable ones, pushed me. It made me braver, more flexible, and more open to experiencing everything that life had to offer.
Academically, I came to Senegal to study traditional medicine. I wanted to become a better, more culturally aware nurse. And I did. I learned about the herbs, the healers, the sacrifices, and the rituals. When people ask me if those approaches “really work,” I have to say: I don’t fully know. I do know that something else works: the warmth. The way people care for each other. The attention, the time, the humanity they pour into healing. That part works. That part heals.
That’s what I’m bringing back with me. My experiences, discomforts, conversations, and risks. Into my remaining time at Pitt and into my future career as a nurse anesthetist, I want to practice heathcare that honors people, not just symptoms. I want to carry the warmth I felt in Senegal into every clinical interaction. I want to be fully present, taking time, building trust, and treating care as a human connection, not just a task. I want to take risks. I want to explore every avenue of nursing and global health. I want to continue to travel. This program gave me more than insight into another healthcare system. It gave me a sense of compassion I never want to forget and a version of myself I want to keep growing into.
