Spring Internships Abroad

The program has not only deepened my passion for healthcare, but also opened my eyes to global healthcare disparities, the beauty of community outreach, and the vital role that systemic infrastructure plays in delivering healthcare. In the hospital, I shadowed a range of specialties, giving me the opportunity to watch live births and learn pathology alongside medical students. Our outreach clinics had lasting effects on the community, and we were able to see this in real time. Even after educating and answering questions on menstruation and women’s health for 1.5 hours, girls continued to come up to me with questions on the way to the bus. You could see the relief on children’s faces when they learned about issues involving menstruation or mental health and realized they weren’t alone. Children who had previously attended the hygiene clinic remembered the information and were able to assist in educating their peers. One of the issues Kenya suffers from is poor health literacy. Through these clinics, we were not only able to provide supplies for immediate care but also make a lasting impact through health education. As demonstrated in the hygiene clinic, even educating just one group of students can make a difference as they continue to educate each other. From the second I arrived in Kenya, the IMA staff made it feel like home. I felt safe at all times, and if I ever needed anything, our program mentors were easily accessible. The accommodations were more than comfortable—the food was amazing, and the house and kitchen staff always went out of their way to ensure we were taken care of. I often took naps after a long shift at the hospital, causing me to miss the planned dinner time. However, Joshua always made sure there was a meal left for me to wake up to. Being the only new person to the program during my time in Kenya, I was nervous to go on the safari alone. Thankfully, Vivian was there to accompany me the whole time, and there was no one better I could have asked for. She immediately put me at ease and became a lasting friend in the process. I did not expect to love Kenya as much as I did, and I truly believe the IMA staff played a significant role in that. I will always be grateful for my experience there and hope to come back soon.

My internship with International Medical Aid (IMA) in Mombasa, Kenya provided a truly transformative experience that shaped my aspirations in medicine. The in-country support was exceptional. Every member of the IMA team—from Margaret, Benson, and Hilda to Mitchel—was kind, attentive, and incredibly knowledgeable. They didn’t just answer questions; they offered thoughtful insights grounded in deep clinical experience and cultural understanding. Their steady presence made me feel safe, supported, and at home in a place that was entirely new to me. The accommodations were comfortable and culturally immersive, allowing me to connect more deeply with the local community. The food was diverse and reflective of Kenyan cuisine, adding to the authenticity of the experience. Visiting local schools and engaging with children and staff was especially impactful; their joy, curiosity, and warmth were a powerful reminder of the importance of human connection. This journey reinforced my dedication to addressing global health inequities and making a meaningful impact through medicine. It did not just influence my career path; it left a lasting positive imprint on the communities I served—and on who I am. I have always had a desire to step out of my comfort zone and face challenges on my own, which is somewhat unusual given that I have a twin with whom I share much of my life. Despite our closeness, I’ve always felt called to explore the world independently and push myself to grow. At sixteen, I traveled alone to Quito, Ecuador, where I worked in daycares supporting children in under-resourced communities. That experience taught me a great deal about myself and my drive to help others. At twenty-two, I found myself preparing for something even more profound: a journey to Mombasa, Kenya. When I was younger, I dreamed of opening a nonprofit organization in Kenya. I would buy bracelets with the colors of the Kenyan flag, imagining the day I would wear them there. At nine years old, I wanted to be everything—mermaid, astronaut, chef, doctor, fairy, hero. As high school ended, being asked to choose one path felt unfair. I applied to universities in France and Egypt for engineering, but it never felt right. Learning about community colleges in the United States offered hope: a chance to explore different fields before committing. Taking a leap of faith, I moved to the U.S., despite my father’s concerns about the distance from Egypt. My mother—my hero—encouraged me every step of the way and taught me I could be more than one thing: a doctor, a helper, a dreamer. After a few semesters, I chose Biology and pre-medicine, but a small part of me still hesitated, unsure if I had truly found my calling. On October 8, 2023, I attended a conference at the University of California, Davis. There, I discovered International Medical Aid. Their booth introduced a program that offered hands-on hospital experience and, incredibly, the opportunity to do it in Kenya. I subscribed to their newsletter, and a few months later, I applied for the summer program in Mombasa. My father was worried about my safety, but my mother reminded me, “Do not let anything or anyone hold you back. If you cannot reach the moon, reach for the stars.” Soon after, I was on my way. I left Los Angeles on May 30, flying through Washington, D.C., and Ethiopia. In a surreal twist, I ran into a former roommate from UC Davis who, without us realizing, had applied to IMA the same way, chosen the same country, dates, and flights. We arrived together in Mombasa on June 1 and were driven to the IMA Woolsack residence in Nyali, where I met the interns and roommates who would define the next weeks of my life. My first visit to Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital was on Sunday, June 2. We met Dr. Shazim, an internal medicine physician, who gave us an orientation and assigned departments for the following day. Afterward, we toured Fort Jesus, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with a guide who brought its history to life. The experience made me eager to learn not only medicine in Kenya, but also its culture and past. My first rotation was in Obstetrics and Gynecology. As we walked into the department, I noticed monkeys jumping around outside the windows—apparently a normal sight. Our team of six interns was split between the first floor, where vaginal births took place, and the second floor, where cesarean sections were performed under the guidance of Dr. Hirsi. One of the first things that struck me was the equipment. Instead of modern fetal monitors, providers often used a simple plastic cone to listen to fetal heartbeats, due to limited supplies and infection-control needs. I couldn’t help but compare this to Hoag Hospital in the United States, where I volunteer. The contrast in resources was stark: instruments were reused, washed, and repurposed out of necessity. My appreciation for the abundance in U.S. hospitals grew quickly. Initially, I wasn’t sure if Obstetrics and Gynecology was for me. That changed within days. For our first C-section, our group rotated in. I was nervous. One intern nearly fainted and never returned to the department. When it was our turn, I watched as the patient—on her fourth C-section—was prepared. Once anesthesia took effect, Dr. Hirsi made a small incision and then separated tissues with his hands rather than cutting through muscle. I hadn’t expected that, but later learned it is a standard technique to promote faster healing and less pain. When the baby was delivered, I cried. Witnessing life begin is indescribably powerful. In Kenya, C-sections are free at public facilities like Coast General, and once a woman has one, she usually continues with them, which influences birth patterns across different socioeconomic groups. In that first week, I saw multiple C-sections and vaginal births, as well as the difficult realities behind them. One case that stayed with me involved a mother giving birth alone. Everything happened quickly. Her placenta became retained, and only a few medical student interns were nearby. With limited staff—only about two doctors assigned per day—Kenya’s physician shortage was painfully clear. Eventually, a doctor arrived and used a technique I’d never seen to manually remove the placenta. It was intense, chaotic, and bloody. The lack of privacy, emotional support, and cleanliness was heartbreaking, yet the strength of the patients was extraordinary. By the end of the week, I was sad to leave the department. I had formed meaningful connections with nurses and doctors whose dedication I deeply admired and hope to work with again one day. My second week was in Pediatrics, divided between inpatient and outpatient. I worked closely with Clinical Officer Ken, who taught us through case after case of sepsis, tuberculosis, anemia, and malaria. While the patterns were repetitive, they reflected real epidemiology and exposed the weight of preventable illness. I preferred the inpatient ward, where I could build longer-term connections with children and families. In the mornings, Dr. Sharifa rounded thoughtfully on each patient, teaching and challenging her interns along the way. Her presence as a wise, compassionate female physician inspired me deeply. We also saw how cultural beliefs shaped care. One newborn with jaundice needed phototherapy and an NG tube, but the family hesitated. The mother believed she lacked sufficient breast milk; the father didn’t want to buy formula, which was too expensive. Traditional beliefs and financial barriers overshadowed medical recommendations. In the U.S., a psychiatric or social work consult might be standard in such a scenario. In Kenya, the extreme shortage of mental health professionals and social support systems leaves many families on their own. On my final days in Pediatrics, I met a mother who quietly asked me to adopt her three-year-old son, Imran Ramadhan. He had developed meningitis, which led to seizures and severe muscle weakness. He’d been hospitalized for weeks beyond his discharge date because his family couldn’t pay the bill. In Kenya, patients who cannot pay are sometimes detained until their balances are cleared. Leaving his room, I fought back tears. That night, I started a GoFundMe and raised over $2,000. Before I could pay the bill, I had to leave Mombasa, but I worked with IMA afterward to transfer the funds so Imran and his mother could finally go home. Since then, I’ve stayed in touch, helped them secure housing, and continued supporting his treatment. While $2,000 may not stretch far in the U.S., in Kenya it changed the trajectory of a family’s life. They have become part of mine. That experience is engraved on my heart and continues to motivate me to return one day as a physician, not just an intern. Every week, we had debriefs, simulations, and lectures with IMA, including a powerful session on Kenya’s disease burden and mental health challenges. There are roughly 100 psychiatrists in the entire country, most based in Nairobi, leaving many regions effectively without access to specialized mental healthcare. Psychiatry had always interested me; I’m often the listener among my friends, and I know firsthand how critical mental health support is. Hearing stories of loss, stigma, and limited access made the need feel urgent and personal. It strengthened my resolve to advocate for mental health, both clinically and culturally. Beyond the hospital walls, we visited schools to lead hygiene, reproductive health, and mental health education sessions. These schools lacked technology and basic supplies, yet they were full of bright, hopeful students. The children greeted us with high-fives, hugs, and unfiltered joy. Teaching them how to brush their teeth and talk about mental wellbeing felt both simple and profound—a reminder that meaningful impact can begin with small, human interactions. Throughout my time in Mombasa, I became acutely aware of all the details I had once taken for granted: adequate staffing, reliable equipment, infection-control protocols, protective gear in operating rooms, timely lab results, accessible medications. At Coast General, I saw surgeries performed with limited protective equipment and pediatric patients waiting too long for critical labs. I saw conditions like hydrocephalus and severe malnutrition tied to gaps in prenatal care and health education. I learned how cultural beliefs, systemic constraints, and economic hardship weave together to shape outcomes. Witnessing these realities strengthened my resolve to pursue medicine—specifically Psychiatry—and to one day establish a nonprofit organization supporting healthcare accessibility in Kenya. I want to stand at the intersection of clinical care, mental health advocacy, and structural change. I am profoundly grateful for my time with International Medical Aid. Coast General Hospital, the IMA team, my fellow interns, and the communities we served changed me. Stepping out of my comfort zone revealed my purpose. Waking up excited for each day in the hospital confirmed that medicine is where I belong. This journey humbled me, sharpened my awareness of my own privilege, and ignited a fire to give back. One day, I hope to return to Mombasa as a physician with the skills, resources, and team to expand critical services—much like the Italian cardiac surgeons I saw performing life-changing surgeries that were previously unavailable in the region. International Medical Aid didn’t just offer an internship; they created the space for a lifelong commitment to grow. My experience in Mombasa will guide me as I work to build a future where compassionate, equitable care is accessible to all.