Our time in Cairo has flown by. Now we have a few weeks left, and I have mixed emotions about the grand return. Recently I was asked about my expectations before coming on this trip and how those have changed since our arrival. Looking back I realize I had very little expectations in comparison to how I feel about returning to America after our time in Egypt is done. Frankly, I am afraid—more afraid of getting home and falling back into complacency than staying in Cairo amidst renewed protests and tension. I feel mind-blown by the wealth of information I have amassed about myself over the past six weeks.

There have been several occasions over the course of this trip where I wondered if we bit off a bit more than we could chew in coming to Egypt at this point in time. Yet, somehow, despite a whole host of concerns I would address toward DukeEngage for future trips, I applaud their determination to let us continue. Because there really is something to be said for taking an individual (namely someone who has never traveled overseas) and throwing him or her into a completely alien environment. Add on top of that a laundry list of challenges—religion, economics, street children, harassment, racism, group dynamics, guilt, service—and you’ve got yourself the exact result that the DukeEngage program was looking for to begin with, a way in which that individual can see what he or she is made of. As for me, Cairo has afforded me a new lens through which I see others and filter events; I’ve been given a new prescription. Rather than learning about these issues from books or in the classroom or watching CNN, I saw it firsthand. In terms of mobilizing my desire to do more in the future, that has made all the difference.

It’s about expanding the comfort zone, as our professor pointed out to us at one reflection dinner.  No greater challenge has presented itself thus far, pushing me to my limits, than our work at Ana al-Masry. Not only learning how to manage rowdy children or working under the unforgiving Egyptian sun, my primary struggle has been in finding and building off of a space within the institution that will yield sustainable results and leave a path for those who will take over when we leave.

One of the greatest rewards of this trip has been the time spent with the children at Ana al-Masry, watching them learn to trust us. Yet, hearing about their struggles, seeing fresh cuts and bruises on their faces every morning, wondering who they will grow up to become has been both depressing and heartening, much like living on an emotional roller coaster. I’ve experienced times to cry and times to laugh. Lately, I have given in to laughter more than tears because I know the potential I see within these kids won’t die away when we leave. I see futures for them as bright as any other child’s around the world.

We are now on to our third week in Cairo. Navigating the city comes a little easier every day. Haggling with shopkeepers does not. To avoid insanity, I’ve come to accept the noise, pollution, and overcrowded streets, rather than fighting them. And as I adjust, I push the life I know at home as far from my mind as possible. Part of this is due to my inability to justify the incongruities between the two. Driving on I-40 at home, I would see neatly ordered lanes and the occasional cop sitting on the highway shoulder waiting for that unsuspecting driver; here in Cairo there are no traffic lanes, no police officers, but I see women with their babies weaving through stagnant traffic, hoping to sell packs of tissues so they can feed their children. Despair written on the faces of street vendors and children selling bracelets is enough to evoke an emotional response from me. Working with our community partners further compounds this mental break between home and Cairo.

The past two Saturdays were spent playing games with children at an orphanage called al-Farqan. When we arrived, the children came up to each of us in turn to shake our hands. Needless to say, my heart melted and my emotions took over. When I asked the director at the end of the session about al-Farqan’s adoption rate, he basically told me adoption on the whole is nonexistent in the Middle East. This answer floored me. It was only on the bus ride out to Ana al-Masry the next morning that I began to think about civic engagement in regards to orphans and the ramifications of our actions those two Saturdays. These children never know family or opportunity. It is only hoped for that they will eventually find employment when they are older. As a transient entity in their lives, I can’t help but wonder what they will think when we don’t show up with a bag of toys and games next Saturday.

Of course the answer is not to abandon volunteer work with orphanages altogether. I would advocate, however, for a look at the bigger picture. To me, my job as a volunteer is to serve the cause to the best of my abilities. Emotional response, however, tends to get in the way of that for me, especially with disconnect between American ideals and on the ground realities. How do we then best serve DukeEngage Cairo?

My own personal “you’re not in Kansas anymore” moment occurred on our third night after an encounter with a Yemeni restaurant that resulted in an unfortunate case of food poisoning. Along with four other DukeEngagers, I spent the next day in bed. Though uncomfortable, this experience allowed me a unique glimpse into Egypt’s healthcare system. I think being sick in a foreign country caused me to be unnecessarily anxious, and so I decided to visit a local clinic. My first impression in my half-delirious, half-nauseous state was that the dust that is prevalent all over the city even makes its way into healthcare facilities. The building itself was old but well built. As I was led into an examination room, certain details, such as a lack of that overall “sterilization feeling” that I was used to at home, only added to my anxiety. The doctor who saw me was a friendly man who informed me that I was “100% American” whereas he was “50% American, 50% Egyptian.” After he poked my stomach for a bit and listened to my breathing, he told me I had “gastroenteritis,” the technical name for traveler’s stomach as I later learned from Wikipedia. He then told me I had three options: take medication, receive three injections plus a round of medication, or be admitted to the hospital to receive IV fluids since I could not keep food in my system. He advised me to choose the second option because the shots would allow me to keep food in my system long enough for the medicine to start working. I was prescribed four medications, “only four because I know Americans do not like taking too many medications,” and was sent on my way.

I hope to enter medical school after Duke, and one of the main reasons for my decision to enter into medicine is the conviction that the world will always be in need of more doctors. The differences in the practice of medicine between countries are something I hadn’t given much thought to previously. Working with our nonprofit partner here, Ana al-Misry, has led to further reflection on this topic. While playing with some of the younger children today, we were told not to touch one of the little girls because she has some form of skin disease that the employees are unsure as to whether it may be contagious. I began thinking about whether the kids at the organization receive routine check-ups at the doctor’s office, but when I inquired about the issue one woman told me the children see a doctor only when they are injured. This disheartening news threw more issues into sharp perspective for me, most of which I have not yet begun processing. I do know that with each day I spend in Cairo I realize the huge amount of luck I had in being born in the United States, a thought I had believed but not really known until now. Eventually I will decide where I want to practice medicine (inshaAllah), and these experiences have pushed me to consider a destination perhaps not so far from Cairo.