As 2016 begins to unfold, I am enveloped in that nostalgic, contemplative mood that many people get into during times of change. A new year lies ahead of me: full of promise, hope and potential; and behind me lies a year that I struggle to even describe.
I struggle to describe what I experienced (endured is the first word that popped into my mind, which in many ways is fitting, isn’t it? GHC alums you know what I mean!) in the period between when I arrived at Yale on June 28, 2014 and when I left the Golden Tulip Hotel in Rwanda on August 1, 2015. I struggled, in that time, in emails to family and friends, or during visits home, to describe all the emotions I was feeling. Even as I write this now, there’s a weird feeling bubbling up inside me, which I can’t seem to name. It’s somewhere between sadness, frustration and joy. I struggled — and still do — because during my time as a Global Health Corps (GHC) fellow, I was feeling so much.
More than once, I had conversations with Meadhbha and Kelly (my bright spots, then and now) about how to categorize the GHC experience. More than once, on particularly hard days — during the particularly hard weeks, which sometimes stretched into particularly hard months — we decided that it was one of those things that was really shitty while you were in it, but when you looked back on it, you’d be so glad you did it. Then, when we were so close to the frustrations of feeling under-valued at work, missing boyfriends thousands of miles away, and having a hard time seeing what positive change we were making in the world, it was difficult to imagine a time when this would all seem worth it.
I would walk the long, uphill route on 14th St from work to the gym and then home every day in a tedious routine that seemed like it would drag on forever. Counting the days until I wasn’t where I was — wasn’t doing what I was doing. Sometimes it seemed like it would never end.
And then it did.
I packed up my charming, old house in Columbia Heights and got on a plane and spent a month in Africa. I said goodbye to 127 other amazing young leaders I was blessed to have met the previous summer and the handful of close friends with whom it felt like I had shared everything. I spent my last night with my co-fellow, Sruthi, wrapped up in white plush hotel bathrobes, trying to act like we’d see each other again soon.
But we haven’t.
And that’s OK. Because nearly every day I wake up to a WhatsApp notification from Jerome in Uganda — or Rodrigo in Guatemala — or Kelly in Chicago — or wee Meadhbha in Belfast. And there are messages from Sruthi, too, and others. I love the connections that GHC has helped me foster, with people who are truly extraordinary. I love reading an article from Angel, who’s currently in Zambia — and part of my #LetsTalkAboutAbortion group — about the first abortion providers in the US. I love getting alerts from Charlotte, studying in Atlanta, that Serial is back (!!!). I love seeing the connections and interactions happening on a daily basis, around the world, over email, SMS, Facebook and in real life.
Because, more than anything, what got me through those times when it was really shitty — and what I gained most from GHC — was a sense of community, a sense of shared purpose and commitment. (And p.s. that community is made up of amazingly brilliant, thoughtful and determined people!) Not bad for people I’ve known for less than a year and a half.
During those conversations last year, when Kelly, Mead and I discussed how to categorize GHC, we always agreed — even on those bad days — that GHC was the one group of people that we felt we could always count on when we really needed something.
“Like if you asked for help,” I recall Meadhbha saying, “people would genuinely want to help you out — not just say they would. I can’t say the same for any other group of people I know.”
I don’t think I can either.
It’s hard to remember exactly how I felt, on that long, uphill journey up 14th St every night last year. Not much time has passed, but it seems like a lifetime already. I imagine what I felt was some version of this un-nameable ball of emotion I feel now writing this, probably more pronounced on the anxiety and with less emphasis on the nostalgia. However, I know I have reached that place I imagine during all those walks: I’m extremely grateful for my experience with GHC and am so thankful that I decided to take on the challenge. During those walks and conversations, I imagined this day arriving much later — ten years out or something — but I’m glad it’s here. There’s a whole community of you out there to enjoy, now.
Lisa Shawcroft was a 2014–2015 Global Health Corps fellow at at Marie Stopes International in Washington, D.C. All GHC fellows, partners and supporters are united in a common belief: health is a human right. There is a role for everyone in the movement for health equity. Join the movement today.
