When I first found out that I had been placed at Tafelsig Clinic for my internship, I was truly worried about my lack of medical experience and how it would effect my ability to be of value there. But as it turns out, what I thought was a short-coming turned out to be a gift. While my lack of experience has limited my capacity as a worker, in has unhinged my capacity as a learner and what I have learned has very little to do with medicine:
With just over two weeks under my belt at the busy Tafelsig Clinic, I cannot say enough about the people that have welcomed me there. Brother Eddie is one of those people. He greets me by name as we pass in the hallway and is forever throwing me a questioning ‘thumbs-up’ to make sure I am alright. One day at leaving time I was rushing passed the reception area in pursuit of the door when I heard a forceful knock on the reception window. I turned around and there was Brother Eddie, looking paternalistic. “How can you run past here like that?” he said. “You must tell us goodbye before you leave.” The tone in his voice was serious and I knew I had committed a cultural faux pas.
I should have known better. In our short stay in South Africa the importance of “hellos” and “goodbyes” has come up several times. Since the beginning, Steve McDuff has stressed the importance of thoughtful greetings and their ability to communicate respect. But for some reason I still ran past that window. It took Brother Eddie’s knock to solidify the message and to help me truly recognize the propensity toward respect in South African culture.
When I arrive at Tafelsig in the morning, Fahmy and Tyrone shout a “Hello” from the pharmacy. I get a “How’s it?” from Warren when I drop my bag in the back and a sincere “Good Morning” from Sister Sandy when I make it to the examination room. The kids greet me with a “Hello, Aunty” and their mothers with a “Hello, Sister.” Wendy welcomes me to tea time with a “How are you, my dear?” and Aunty Iris hollers “Erin!” down the hall. Immunized (and traumatized) children muster tearful waves as they leave the room. “Aye, shame,” is the response from Brother Eddie upon confirmation of my departure and the security guards say goodbye as a board the van to go home. In every way the greetings at Tafelsig communicate a respect that is not only spoken, but felt.
When I arrived at Tafelsig I wanted to do nothing more that prove my (medically-inexperienced) worth, but Tafelsig has taught me that I don’t have to. They value and respect me whether or not I can contribute to their clinic. And I have been reminded that proving my worth should always be second to finding worth in others. Everyone at Tafelsig Clinic already knows this. That is why there greetings are so sincere. That is why in the face of serious resource limitations, they are able to provide high quality care to their patients. That is how they endure increased workloads and long hours. They truly value people for being people, and experiencing this is why being at Tafelsig Clinic has been such a valuable experience for me.
Needless to say, I don’t run past that window anymore. I stop and I wait and I say goodbye to Brother Eddie to be sure that he knows the depth of respect I have for him.
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