He is known only as “Mister Shabani”. When receiving memos from the Chief Medical Officer of Shree Hindu Mandal Hospital, being addressed by his peers, or introducing himself to patients, he is without fail, “Mister Shabani.”
When I first entered the tiny Tanzanian medical laboratory in which I would be volunteering, I was greeted by Mister Shabani, the administrator of the lab, and two coworkers. I was hit with a wall of Swahili, which might as well have been, well, Swahili to me. I had seen him before in fleeting glimpses when I volunteered at Reception; he was wearing the same salmon pink shirt as the previous day, now fresh with wrinkles. Presumably, he had been too busy helping patients to have gone home the day before. Seeing the look of blank confusion on my face, Mister Shabani let out his signature roaring laugh. He quickly explained to me the conversation that had just transpired: “Yes, the lab always smells like this”.
 The lab director dropped what he was doing; I was his new subject of interest. Patients entered our humble confines, armed with test request from overworked doctors; Mister Shabani showed me how to interpret each hastily written scrap of paper, and what to do with each urine, stool, and blood sample. After correctly identifying the indigo ringlets on a blood slide as malaria, I earned the trust of Mister Shabani, and was left to run the tests for myself. Over my week and a half of work in the lab, I realized that I was not treated as an intern underling whose sole purpose was to fetch coffee, but as a valued coworker.
Each day, when the flood of patients slowed to a drip, I would speak to Mister Shabani about his life in Tanzania. One day, the conversation turned towards Mister Shabani’s choice to become a laboratory scientist. It became evident that there was, in fact, no choice. Mister Shabani wanted to be a doctor, but because of the political climate of the time, this was simply not possible. The doctors were all foreign imports, professionals from India. As I worked closely with Mister Shabani during my time in Tanzania, I noticed that he was good-natured, caring, capable, and hardworking. And yet, despite these traits, Mister Shabani was denied of his dream, not because he made bad decisions or because he lacked the talent, but because there was never an opportunity.
Throughout my childhood, my mother, who grew up in Zambia, would tell me stories of the ghastly conditions of the native population. Until I met Mister Shabani, I thought I understood their hardships, but it did not quite resonate until I saw firsthand that they lacked the basic needs that we take for granted, let alone the opportunity for success. Mister Shabani was far better off than most, as I witnessed while working in Reception to admit the decrepit patients, blighted with cataracts and missing limbs. As Mister Shabani put it, “Tanzania is not like your America.”
As I noticed over my days of work, Mister Shabani never let his lack of opportunity stop him from doing his best. Every day in the morning, he would greet his coworkers, including me, and tell us how grateful he could call himself our peer. He always appreciated that, though he was not able to become a doctor, he was still in a position to help those most in need.
Since leaving Tanzania, I often think back to Mister Shabani, and what he has made of himself despite circumstances. I have realized the great opportunity that I have been given. I am the son of two hardworking immigrants who sacrificed all they had in Zambia to move to North America. The lesson of seizing opportunity is one I have often received, yet it never hit quite so close to home as then. After all, despite her circumstances, my mother was still able to become a successful computer scientist. Mister Shabani, however was never allowed to pursue his aspirations. In the United States, we expect that, with aptitude, hard work, and freedom, a person can successfully achieve his desires. Yet, this expectation that we so lightly take for granted, is something that the majority of the people living in developing nations, which hold 85% of the world's population, will never be able to experience. As I go further in my life, I will seize with renewed vigor the opportunity so few have, in an effort to help those most in need.