Aliya Storms is a 2nd-year student at the IU School of Medicine. She spent the past summer in Eldoret, Kenya, as a Slemenda Scholar with the AMPATH Kenya partnership. While there she learned about the 35-year partnership and participated in research and education activities related to the AMPATH mental health initiative.
Walking out of the Nairobi airport, I was immediately struck by the familiar smell of Kenya. In an instant, I was transported back to my childhood when I spent long days climbing loquat trees in Bomet and hiking up the hill to Rift Valley Academy. Those memories of friendship and adventure felt alive again, reminding me of a time when I simply absorbed the world around me without much thought to the deeper implications of living in a culture that wasn’t my own.
As a child, I was largely a product of my environment. The adults around me shaped how I interacted with Kenyan culture. Often, this meant laughter-filled dinners, warm hospitality, and meaningful conversations with Kenyan families. But sometimes it also meant living in ways that felt separate--within Kenya, yet apart from it. Coming back as an adult, I realized I no longer wanted to default to inherited patterns. I had a choice: what kind of foreigner did I want to be?
That question became central during my summer project with AMPATH’s school mental health and community substance use teams at Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital’s Nawiri Recovery and Skills Centre. I knew that before I could contribute, I needed to prioritize relationships—listening and learning from the colleagues who had been doing this work long before I arrived. Too often in global health, foreign workers risk centering themselves instead of the community, and I didn’t want to repeat that mistake.
One of the relationships I built was with my coworker and friend, Oloo. We went on several field visits together to partner organizations that support substance use treatment groups. These groups, modeled in part on Alcoholics Anonymous, combine peer support with critical resources like healthcare, education and financial empowerment. In one community, I learned how these groups extend their support to male sex workers by offering not just medical care but also dignity and belonging.
Traveling with Oloo was also about friendship, not just work. In Kisumu, he took me to his favorite view of Lake Victoria. Then in Kitale, his hometown, he introduced me to his favorite porridge dish, uji, and shared stories of growing up there. On long drives, we swapped playlists of our favorite Afrobeats tracks. These moments reminded me that being a responsible global health worker is not only about professional exchange but also shared humanity.
Some of my most joyful experiences came in community with others. On one of our last nights in Eldoret, a group of Kenyan, Swedish, Dutch, and German medical students crowded into Kwa Bhupe, one of our favorite Indian restaurants. Between bites of chapati and curry, we laughed over the striking similarities and amusing differences in navigating our respective medical systems. The evening ended with our friend Bon, a Kenyan med student, gifting us Maasai headbands—the same parting gift he gives his sisters. It was a gesture of care and connection that I will never forget.
The next morning, our final in Eldoret, was spent in the home of Grace, one of the AMPATH Consortium employees. She welcomed us with steaming cups of chai, a home-cooked meal, and the playful company of her nephew. Sitting in her home, surrounded by warmth and generosity, I felt the simple joy of being welcomed not just as a colleague but as family.
These experiences underscored something I am still learning: global health is not only about interventions, programs or data. It is about relationships. It is about choosing to enter spaces as a learner and with humility. It is about seeing the people you work with not just as “community members” or “beneficiaries,” but as friends, mentors and equals.
Coming back to Kenya as an adult has given me the freedom to consciously choose what kind of foreigner I want to be. I want to be someone who listens first, who values the expertise of local colleagues, who honors hospitality with humility and who invests in genuine relationships. Global health work can so easily become extractive if we are not intentional. But when approached with openness and respect, it can become a space where joy, friendship and shared purpose flourish.
The smell of Kenya that first greeted me outside the airport was a reminder of my roots here--of childhood adventures and half-understood cultural lessons. But the stories I carry now, as an adult, are shaped by something different: the laughter of friends, the generosity of shared meals, the rhythm of Afrobeats on the road to Kisumu and the warmth of chai in Grace’s kitchen.
