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Anjali Borsum Reflection – One month, a world apart: Medicine in Sodo, Ethiopia

Center for Global Health
April 21, 2025

Anjali Borsum, a class of 2027 College of Medicine student, was awarded a Center for Global Health Student & Trainee Travel Grant to pursue a global health project in Sodo, Ethiopia. While in-country, she also blogged for the MUSC Center for Global Health website. Read her previous posts: Blog one, blog two and blog three. Please to view all of her photos in our Flickr gallery.

After spending a month in Sodo Ethiopia, I feel both as though I never left but also like I’ve lived a completely different life. It’s been surprisingly easy to slip back into old routines since returning, but a part of me resists that ease. What I experienced in Sodo reshaped not only my perspective on medicine but also on life itself. And now I’m left wondering: how do I carry these lessons with me as a medical student?

One of the most striking contrasts has been the cost of living and how differently we assign value to things. In Sodo, dinner might cost $2 to $3 per person, a cup of coffee or tea just 30 cents, and a kilo of avocados just about $1. I remember one evening scrolling through Instagram and clicking on a blouse an influencer had posted—only to see it was priced at over $250. My immediate reaction was, “That’s more than a month’s rent in Sodo.” It was a moment of realization. The experience made me acutely aware of how much I spend on things that are ultimately unnecessary, and how disconnected that spending can feel when held up against a different way of life. When Maya and I helped at a boutique event for Charleston influencers shortly after returning, surrounded by luxury and wealth, and we couldn’t help but laugh at the stark difference between that world and the dirt roads and lack of running water we had been exposed to just days earlier.

Student Anjali Borsum poses with staff and babies while on a global health project in Ethiopia.
 

Another realization I had was the immense privilege we have not only living in America but also working in hospitals here. I knew we were entering a low-resource setting, but I didn’t truly grasp the depth of that reality until I experienced it firsthand. I know we have blood shortages in the U.S., but nothing compares to what I saw in Sodo. When I saw the refrigerator designated for storing blood with barely anything in it, I was stunned. My immediate reaction was to offer my own blood, but I was told it wouldn’t remain at the hospital; it would be redirected to the government to allocate first. In all of this, what stood out to me was how fluid medical decision-making had to be in response to resource limitations. Treatment plans were adjusted based on the availability of medications in the pharmacy or the types of sutures on hand in the operating room. The ICU had only one or two ventilators, so care was tailored around what was available. At one point, the CT machine broke, and repairs were expected to take several weeks. Despite these challenges, I don’t believe the quality of care was compromised. Rather, I was deeply impressed by how incredibly adaptable and astute the physicians were. Their clinical acumen and resilience in the face of scarcity left a lasting impression on me.

Perhaps the most humbling realization during my time there was confronting my own selfishness. Spending time with missionary families who had left behind lives in the U.S. to serve long-term in Sodo prompted me to ask myself whether I could ever do the same. I’d like to think the answer is yes—but if I’m honest with myself, the answer is no… at least not right now. At twenty-four, I value the nearness of friends and family, the autonomy of coming and going around town freely, and the comforts of American life. While I’ve always known I live a privileged life, it wasn’t until I immersed myself in another culture that I truly understood the extent of that privilege. I hope that one day—after residency and more training and more growth—I might be able to say yes, whether through long-term commitment or short-term service. One Bible verse we reflected on said that to serve others, you must first learn how to serve. That sentiment perfectly captures our time in Sodo—we witnessed servant-hearted people giving selflessly and fully. I now carry with me a deep admiration for those who leave comfort behind to care for others, and I hope that one day I can embody even a fraction of that selflessness.

As for how I intend to implement what I’ve learned, I believe the simplest and most meaningful step is to talk about it. By sharing these experiences and insights, by drawing attention to the differences in cultures and values, I hope to plant seeds of awareness. This act of storytelling keeps the lessons fresh within me, and maybe within those who listen. It may not change the world, but it’s a beginning.

Maya and I had such an incredible experience that we’re already planning our return during fourth year. The people of Sodo are what made the place unforgettable. They’ve left an indelible mark on my education, my future career, and my personal life. I am deeply grateful to everyone who made this opportunity possible.

Sodo, I hope to see you again soon.