Final Thoughts

We left El Salvador in April, nearly two months ago. I count myself fortunate to have worked in Estancia. I count myself blessed to have gone there with Calla. I thought Calla was my Elizabeth Bennett, but I discovered she is so much more to me. I learned so much from her and am so proud of her.

I spent the first night away from Estancia crying. I cried because I was sad to leave. I cried because the people in estancia could not leave.

Now, two months later, I find myself back in Rochester and preparing for fourth year, as if I had never left. Despite the fact that my experience was the most significant and enlightening time of my life, my daily activities have a way of distancing this experience from myself.

When I think about all the different work I did, there is one common theme that saturated my whole experience. Poverty. The dehumanizing effect of poverty is like a stain that cannot be washed off, only ignored.

I was only able to spend 8 months in Estancia because I received a generous stipend. Helping others is one of the most truly satisfying and rewarding ways to spend time. It saddens me that the poor are generally excluded from this experience. When Calla and I left Estancia, we gave away the majority of our things to friends as presents.

We were also given goodbye gifts, usually a bag of beans. In addition to our gift of beans, people often apologized for how meager their gift was. I was so touched by these gifts because I knew how little our friends had to offer, but I was also saddened by the apology. Even though these people had given much more of themselves in their gifts of beans than I had with my used clothing, they were the ones who felt shame because of the stain of poverty.

I did not feel any “culture shock” as I returned to the wealth and excessiveness of America. I was struck by how successful the wealthy are at hiding poverty from every aspect of their life.

As a wealthy person living in Estancia, I was always aware that I had ten bucks in my pocket, while my neighbors made about three dollars a day for seven people. At the very least I was forced to feel uncomfortable, and it compelled me to do what I could to help them.

I went to med school to help people, but it took going to El Salvador to make me feel like I was. As a doctor, every patient is an opportunity to help someone. My lesson from Estancia is that if I am not helping the poor, then I do nothing to wash away the stink of poverty.

-- Bela