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I felt safe and supported in all areas during the program. Staff and fellow interns made me feel welcome and comfortable during my stay. The whole experience has helped me to realize that I am pursuing what I would like to do as a career - clinical psychology. The staff in the psychology department at Coast General were open, friendly, and knowledgable. I had the opportunity to see diverse mental health cases and learn how different cultures address mental health issues. The most influential part of the program was the outreach we participated in at schools and community clinics. Speaking with the kids and community members was moving because I encountered both kindness and resilience. “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it,” Helen Keller. My time with IMA and at Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital in Kenya was utterly life-changing and exemplified that quote. The role of psychologists at Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital is multifaceted. They are counselors for patients, their families, and doctors; they are the support system for those patients without family or friends; they are educators, explaining the health implications to patients for their individual physical ailments; and they are called in to convince patients to get crucial surgeries. Every day there are cases of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, major depressive disorder, anxiety, postpartum depression, postpartum psychosis, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), autism, cerebral palsy, and learning disabilities. Cases of deteriorating mental health continue to increase, particularly anxiety and depression, as a large portion of the population deals with poverty and fear from political instability. According to the IMA lecture on the disease burden in Kenya, “one in four Kenyans is likely to suffer from a mental disorder at some point in their lives” (IMA, 2025). The psychologists have an added barrier to their work because of widespread stigma against mental health care. Mental health professionals have a battle to fight against stigma in every country and society, but people’s preconceptions differ from culture to culture. I arrived in Kenya with an understanding that there was pervasive skepticism and distrust towards mental health, but I did not expect to encounter a widespread belief in witchcraft. Almost every day, at least one patient would blame witchcraft or karma as the reason for their suffering or the suffering of a loved one. Someone experiencing psychosis, addiction, depression, or the loss of a child in childbirth might explain it away as the result of being cursed by a witch, or a consequence of wrongdoing by them or a relative. Thus, patients refused psychological care, disbelieving that anything other than praying to God or seeing a traditional healer could free them from their suffering. When the psychology department was called to the wards for specific patients, many of them would ask, “Are you talking to me because you think I’m crazy?” They feared this label and made it clear that we could talk to them if we wanted, but they were nothing like the “crazy people” we usually speak to. Mental health stigmas come from more than fear of the supernatural. In the United States, people also fear seeking treatment because of potential discrimination. This discrimination is a product of centuries of misunderstanding the brain and mental illness, and viewing negative representations of those with mental health disorders in the media. According to the American Psychiatric Association, even when people understand the medical and biological aspects, mental disorders still have a bad connotation and people will go out of their way to avoid those who suffer from these conditions (Singhal, 2024). The better my understanding of these social and cultural stigmas, the better clinician I will be in the future. Treatment of patients who believe their disease is a spiritual or metaphysical problem will be different from treatment of those who see it as biological or emotional. It is not helpful to deny the patient’s belief and attempt to psychoeducate them because such beliefs are often deep-rooted. The delivery of mental health care at Coast General is largely the same as treatment in the West, though provider strategies differ slightly. A combination of counseling and prescription medications are used for psychological disorders, but care at Coast General goes far beyond mental disorders. As the medical doctors have limited time to spend with their patients, psychologists fill in the gaps and take on the responsibility of explaining patient conditions and treatments. Low levels of health literacy among patients complicate communication between the patient and health care provider. I witnessed multiple difficult moments with patients’ family members and real moral dilemmas in terms of approaches used to communicate the need for certain treatments. At least once a week we visited the mother of a three-year-old boy who was being cared for in the ICU. I sat with her for the first time as the psychologist explained that her son was initially misdiagnosed. The doctor understated the severity of the boy’s heart condition and missed the gangrene consuming his left foot, up to his ankle. We informed her that her son needed heart surgery as soon as possible, required his leg amputated, and still only had a 50% chance of surviving. The mother held an immense sadness behind her eyes but sat stone-faced and strong as she expressed gratitude for the psychologist’s honesty. The doctors avoided her and she was in the dark before we saw her. She said she understood the limited resources of the hospital and would be satisfied with the doctors’ best efforts. We visited her multiple times to update her on her son’s condition, finally giving her the date of his upcoming surgery after three weeks of waiting. She was grateful and I was hopeful for the boy until my final day at Coast General, when the psychologist informed me she had to tell his mother her son could no longer get surgery. He was too malnourished and his vitals were too low to survive the procedure. He would die in a few days. Patients often expressed distrust of the medical providers at Coast General. Some, such as the three-year-old boy’s mother, understood that few other choices exist, despite a lack of resources at this hospital. However, others preferred to take their chances without treatment. In these cases, the psychologists applied any strategy they could to change the patient’s mind, even if it required strong persuasion. One mother refused to let her five-year-old son receive heart surgery that would increase his chance of living by 20% because she did not trust the capabilities of the doctors. The psychologist sent to speak with the mother told her that she was in luck: a specialist from Nairobi was coming to the hospital. He visited only once a year and received a limited list of patients to perform surgery on, and her boy made it onto the list. At this news, the mother agreed for her son to receive the surgery. However, this specialist from Nairobi did not exist and the surgery would be performed by a Coast General surgeon. The psychologist explained her choice as the only option because the mother was risking her son’s life based on fear and this was unfair to the child. Another patient, a sixteen-year-old girl who had just given birth, had a tear from her vagina to her anus and needed to get stitches, but refused. She was afraid of experiencing more pain after the agony of childbirth. The psychologist began the conversation explaining the risk of infection and other health problems that could result without suturing the tear. However, as the girl did not seem convinced, the psychologist switched tactics and told her that without stitches, her husband would leave her because she would no longer have a tight vagina. This, the psychologist explained, was a greater fear than the risk of infection and death. I continue to wrestle with whether these decisions to scare patients outweigh the problems that might result from declined procedures. A population of people the psychologists treat with regularity are those who have experienced gender-based violence (GBV). GBV has been a long-time problem in Kenya, and similar to mental illness, it is a taboo topic. The GBV patients I encountered were often soft-spoken and reluctant to talk about their specific experiences with violence, while able to converse on other topics. This is particularly the case for male victims. The GBV clinic psychologists explained that male victims do not often come forward because of shame and the feeling of weakness. However, the psychologists also said that any victim who does not speak about their experiences has a higher likelihood of becoming a perpetrator to others. It is also common for families to try and handle the situation among themselves, making it difficult to pursue justice. The fear of stigmatization by others outweighs the desire to report the incident to police. The GBV clinic at Coast General is one of very few in the country and was partly funded by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) before it was disbanded by the Trump administration. USAID targeted GBV in Kenya by funding “shelters, medical care, counseling, legal aid, and educational initiatives” (Burkybil, 2025). A plaque in the psychology office read, “The Medically Assisted Therapy (MAT) Clinic at Coast General Hospital was officially handed over to the Governor of Mombasa County H.E. Ali Hassan Joho on the 11th September 2015. The facility was refurbished and equipped by UNODC [United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime] with financial support from USAID”. I saw similar signs and brandings of USAID around the hospital, on trash cans and equipment, with the words “From the American People”. My breath caught in my throat the first time I saw this as I had never seen firsthand evidence of the work done by USAID abroad. It made me reflect on how much these programs matter, and how real their impact is on everyday care. Based on these experiences, I feel inspired to write my college senior thesis on gender-based violence and the effects that ending USAID has internationally. My time with IMA in Kenya confirmed my desire to pursue clinical psychology and work for a humanitarian organization, like Doctors Without Borders. Trauma psychology, advocating for better mental health care, and education on mental health are my primary interests. Since returning to my home in the United States and sharing my stories with others, I realize that simply sharing makes an impact on those around me. Describing my experiences and recounting interactions with patients and children, and the examples of USAID’s impact in the country, are transformative to others I’m told. My participation in the East Africa IMA program is a lifetime gift resulting in an increased understanding of cultural differences, helping me be a better global citizen, and impacting my future career.

Every aspect of my International Medical Aid internship exceeded my expectations. From the moment I arrived at the Mombasa airport, the incredible IMA staff helped me feel at home. Throughout my five-week internship, they made sure I was safe, comfortable, and supported through every high and low. The program mentors—Michelle, Hildah, and Margaret—checked in daily about my experiences at the hospital and generously shared their knowledge of both Kenyan healthcare and culture. The drivers navigated the often chaotic roads safely while keeping us entertained with conversation and music, and I always felt well cared for. The residence was comfortable, clean, and a genuinely enjoyable place to spend time. The housekeeping team went above and beyond to make sure we had everything we needed and even did our laundry every day. The food—a mix of Kenyan dishes, international options, and familiar comfort foods—was consistently delicious. The kitchen staff took our requests seriously, accommodated our busy schedules, and even surprised us with a cake on Valentine’s Day. I also appreciated the cultural treks, which provided balance to the emotional intensity of hospital work and helped us better understand the communities we were serving so we could connect with them more meaningfully. I cannot say enough positive things about the kind, professional, and supportive staff I interacted with throughout the program. My time with the Psychology team at Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital was truly transformative. As a mental health intern, I had the opportunity to shadow outpatient counseling sessions, observe psychiatric evaluations, and join ward rounds in maternity, pediatrics, internal medicine, oncology, emergency, and post-operative wards. I expected to learn primarily about conditions like anxiety, depression, autism spectrum disorder, and how they are diagnosed and treated. I did see these cases, but I also saw far more intense situations that revealed the deep intersections between mental health, trauma, poverty, grief, and limited access to care. Over the course of a single week, I witnessed moments that will stay with me: a woman attempting suicide after being unable to leave the hospital because she could not pay her bill; a mother grieving a stillbirth linked to lack of prenatal care; a 15-year-old boy facing amputation after a school bus accident; a family in oncology learning that their child had very little time left without fully understanding what cancer is; and a community mourning two college students who drowned. These experiences, among many others, showed me how deeply human suffering is intensified when health systems are overburdened and resources are scarce. They motivated me not only to support individuals in their mental health in the future, but also to think critically about systemic change. A central theme of my experience was the role of education in patient outcomes. Many patients—especially those from rural or lower-income communities—arrived at the hospital with very limited understanding of their conditions or when to seek medical attention. Because many cannot afford preventive care, they often present late in the disease process, when treatment options are more limited. Gaps in health education, cultural and religious beliefs, and reliance on traditional healing can create communication barriers between patients and hospital staff. At the same time, healthcare workers are understaffed and overextended, leaving little time to thoroughly explain diagnoses or provide emotional support. In this environment, the psychology team often became the bridge: helping patients process difficult news, understand their situation, and feel seen. The demand for mental health support was overwhelming. The psychology team I shadowed could only see a small number of patients each day, yet we were frequently approached by nearby patients and families who asked to be added to the list. Nearly everyone in a hospital like Coast General is in crisis in some form—physically, emotionally, or both—yet mental health services remain limited and, for many, unfamiliar or stigmatized. Through this internship, I came to appreciate the importance of meeting patients where they are, rather than expecting them to navigate unfamiliar systems alone. I was grateful to contribute in a small but meaningful way through IMA’s community outreach efforts. I helped lead clinics on hygiene, menstruation, and mental health at local schools, where we aimed to empower students with knowledge and practical tools, such as sanitary pads and toothbrushes. These sessions reinforced for me how interactive, engaging education—songs, demonstrations, questions, and open dialogue—can help young people retain information and feel more in control of their health. Seeing students connect with these lessons showed me how early education can reshape health outcomes, whether that means recognizing pregnancy, understanding consent, or knowing when to seek care. This internship also brought my academic studies in psychology, community and global health, and epidemiology to life. I observed diagnoses such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, anxiety, and depression in real clinical settings. I watched psychiatrists conduct evaluations, form treatment plans, and collaborate with counselors, and I had the opportunity to debrief with them afterward, which added depth and context to everything I witnessed. I also saw, firsthand, the burden of HIV, tuberculosis, and other infectious diseases and how policy decisions—such as cuts to external funding—directly affect access to medications and staffing. The experience tied together theory and practice in a way no classroom ever could. Throughout my time at Coast General, I noticed small but powerful examples of systemic tension: suggestion boxes that no one used, overflowing containers of condoms alongside persistently high rates of HIV and unplanned pregnancy, and brand-new computers sitting unopened while essential supplies like gloves and needles remained limited. These details highlighted the complexity of building effective health systems and the importance of thoughtful implementation, not just resources. Ultimately, this experience deepened my understanding of how culture, stigma, education, and economics shape access to mental healthcare, and it solidified my commitment to being part of positive change. It reinforced my desire to work in the mental health field, to advocate for health education, and to support communities facing structural barriers to care. My internship with International Medical Aid in Mombasa was challenging, eye-opening, and profoundly meaningful, and I will be recommending this program to everyone I know in the pre-health world.