I recall my last day in class. It was just…class.
Nothing remarkable. I didn’t realize it would be my last—at least for a while.
When classes were called off, I understood why.
I was empathetic.
There was unrest in the city. Political tensions rising. Democracy itself was teetering. It made sense, even if it was painful.
Days turned to weeks and it was still understandable.. to me.
More time to study and get tuition fees ready for the exam period.
Christmas break came and it went.
Finally got my fees and paid.
Still no classes yet.
Slowly, the silence got louder.
Although there were/are meetings being held, discussions had, emails here and there.
It still felt silent.
Tension slowly started rising.
Less focus on books.
Vacation for some, more studies for some, idle waiting for some, working for some.
At the last plenum, I attended, 100 days was celebrated.
That stood out for me. How it seemed like a joyful period.
Now, another 100 have passed.
All I see is 6 months gone.
6 months of uncertainty
Of waiting
Of being in my head
Of feeling lost
Of not being a student..Yet again
Of shifted priorities and subtly questioning my direction.
Of Silence.
A lot of students like me feel this way but in all honesty, I didn’t feel the weight of it until about three months in.
That’s when the questions started coming. The maybe’s and what if’s
What if we didn’t empathize for more than a week? Would things have been different?
What if this takes longer than a year?
Maybe I should use this time to focus on personal growth.
Maybe medicine isn’t for me after all.
Yes. It does get to that point.
When you begin to question if this is truly meant to be.
A six-year course becoming an eight-year journey—how dreadful that feels.
It’s been a roller coaster, honestly.
Confusing.
And even in the confusion, I understand. I really do.
They’re fighting for home.
This is where generations were raised and they want it better.
I have a home too,
so I understand what that longing feels like.
Though it’s different,
I get it.
But understanding doesn’t make this any easier.
Not for me.
Not for many others.
With so much hope.
So much ambition.
So much expectations
And all of it, boiling down to..what?
Still, somehow, we holding onto that endless hope.
That classes will start soon.
That when all is said and done, we will find ourselves standing as graduates.
That we can finally see our vision take shape
and we set the pace for those behind us.
To ease the burden on our parents back home.
For now, questions keep floating with answers out of reach.
That is what it all feels like
Silence.
A loud aching silence.
And the only question lingering in its midst
as we wait,
as we ache,
as we pray
‘What’s next’?
ELLA SOFTLY 