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During the summer of 2014, I traveled to a rural area in China called Ningxia for a micro financing trip, along with about a hundred other students. Since we did not have sufficient funds for everyone to receive a loan, we split up into groups of five to interview villagers to determine who was more qualified to receive it. Each family needed loans for different reasons: to buy farm animals, farming equipment, or education for children. For three weeks, we interviewed each family about their financial situation, and how they planned to use and pay back the loans. These villagers lived in a very tightly knit community, so the families who didn’t get the loans would still be financially supported by the others. When we walked into the village common area, we could see that the children were friends with each other as they ran around us, yelling and screaming, playing tag. The blazing hot sun beat down on our backs and sweat dripped down our necks. As we walked, we kicked up dirt so that my previously white shoes were a dirty brown color by the end of the day. There was no functional bathroom, just a large expanse of dirt and grass. Farm animals lived right next to the small and shabby houses, which were unlike the large and spacious suburban houses we were used to. These homes were cramped, as they were stuffed with furniture disproportional to the living space.. We were all taken aback by what we saw, even feeling a little guilty for having such an privileged, luxurious life while these villagers had to work tirelessly every day merely to put food on the dining table.
Our first interviewee was an elderly man in his seventies. His weathered eyes wrinkled as he smiled at us, and his hands were dry and calloused from working in the fields all day. His home consisted of a dusty round screened antenna television, a simple twin bed, a fragile rickety chair, and a plain wooden table. It was essentially a hollow in a huge cave-like rock; the ground was simply the ground, without any flooring or panels, covered by a small, worn out rug. The walls of his house were the actual walls of the bare rock that he lived inside. However, he still warmly welcomed us into his home, offering us to sit on his bed while he sat down on his chair. Upon interviewing him, we learned that he needed the money to buy farm equipment and animals so that he could earn more from his farm to pay for his grandson’ college education. His grandson’ parents could not afford to send him to school, so the old man wanted to help pay for it with his own money, even though his own living situation wasn’t ideal.
The second man we interviewed exuded confidence the moment we stepped into his house. It was modest, furnished plainly with the bare necessities. His three young children chased each other around the house, laughing as if they had no care in the world. When we interviewed him, we learned that his mother was blind in one eye and was suffering from many diseases commonly found in elderly villagers. His wife had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and she seemed sickly and weak when we shook her feeble, bony hand. He needed the money for medical aid and to buy more farm animals so he could feed his family. As I interviewed these villagers, it slowly dawned on my ignorant freshman self that other people in this world had obstacles in their lives that were of much greater significance. I realized that I lived in a privileged bubble of extravagant suburban houses and exquisite restaurants, and this was my first time breaking out of it. I had always seen pictures and videos of impoverished areas, but never really understood the realities of their hardships until I experienced it firsthand. All I could think about was how I had previously complained about difficult teachers, the rising price of boba, or having to practice piano daily, as if it were a chore. During our time there, we had helped with their farm work, and by the end of the day, we’d all be exhausted from pulling weeds, planting seeds, and plowing the dirt. It was unimaginable to think that they had to work this hard every day. But this small amount of time we endured was representative of their entire lives, heavily contrasting with our lives, which were made up of didn’t have the luxury to eat whenever they wanted to, or drive around with friends for fun.
After this experience, I felt the need to help those who were in need. It didn’t feel justifiable living my privileged lifestyle without lending a hand to those in need. After learning about the realities of the villagers and being able to not only sympathize, but also provide some amount of assistance, I felt a sense of fulfillment I have never felt before. Yet, I still feel helpless and lost as I can’t accommodate for their long-term needs. So I looked to medicine as the means to attain the sense of fulfillment I once felt with the villagers. Instead of using my money, I can utilize the knowledge I gain from the privilege of a college education, as well as my determination and love for helping the less fortunate in the form of practicing medicine.