The Journey That Never Reached Goma

The invitation arrived at a time when I was deeply committed to improving maternal and child health in my community. It was an opportunity that many professionals dream of—a chance to travel to Goma in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) to learn from Mothers First, an organization internationally recognized for its innovative nutrition program aimed at reducing low birth weight among newborns. As someone passionate about maternal nutrition, newborn survival, and community health, I knew this experience would not only expand my knowledge but also equip me with practical solutions that could benefit vulnerable mothers and babies back home.

Receiving the invitation filled me with excitement and a profound sense of responsibility. Every year, millions of babies around the world are born with low birth weight, increasing their risk of illness, disability, and death. In many African countries, poor maternal nutrition, poverty, infections, and limited access to quality antenatal care continue to contribute to this silent crisis. Mothers First had developed a community-based model that was reportedly transforming maternal nutrition outcomes and reducing cases of low birth weight. Learning directly from their team promised invaluable lessons.

I carefully prepared for the journey. Since travelling by road was the most practical option, I mapped out my route from Kenya through Uganda before crossing into eastern DRC. The trip itself would be long, but I looked forward to experiencing the different communities along the way. Sometimes the journey itself teaches lessons that cannot be found in books or conference halls.

My first destination was Kampala, Uganda. The journey was smooth, and every kilometre strengthened my anticipation. During the long hours on the road, I reflected on the mothers I had met over the years—women who struggled to access nutritious food during pregnancy, mothers who walked long distances for antenatal services, and families who celebrated every newborn despite enormous hardships. I imagined returning home with practical knowledge that could help improve maternal nutrition programs and reduce preventable newborn complications.

Arriving in Kampala, I was one step closer to Goma. I contacted colleagues to confirm the final leg of the trip and prepared to continue my journey the following day. However, as evening approached, unsettling news began circulating. Reports emerged of new Ebola cases in eastern DRC. At first, I hoped the situation was localized and would not affect travel.

The following morning brought devastating confirmation.

The border between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo had been closed immediately following the Ebola outbreak. Public health authorities had suspended cross-border movement to prevent the spread of the deadly virus. No travelers would be allowed through until further notice.

In that single moment, weeks of planning came to an abrupt end.

I remember standing there in Kampala trying to absorb the news. Disappointment washed over me. I had come so far, yet the final stretch of my journey had become impossible. The opportunity to learn directly from Mothers First suddenly disappeared, not because of poor planning or lack of determination, but because of an emergency far beyond anyone's control.

For a brief moment, frustration crept in. I thought about the missed presentations, the field visits, the conversations with health workers, and the chance to witness successful nutrition interventions firsthand. I wondered how many opportunities like this come only once in a career.

Yet as I reflected more deeply, another realization emerged.

The very reason the borders had been closed demonstrated exactly why strong public health systems matter.

Ebola is one of the world's most dangerous infectious diseases, capable of spreading rapidly if not contained early. Border closures, though painful for travelers and businesses, are often necessary measures to protect millions of people from cross-border transmission. The decision that interrupted my journey was not meant to deny learning opportunities; it was meant to save lives.

As someone working in health advocacy, I understood the science behind the decision.

Public health sometimes requires difficult choices.

One cancelled journey may prevent thousands of infections.

One delayed meeting may save entire communities.

Standing in Kampala, I realized that I was witnessing public health in action.

Ironically, while I had travelled to learn about improving newborn survival through better nutrition, I also received an unexpected lesson about epidemic preparedness and disease prevention. Health systems cannot focus on one challenge alone. Nutrition, infectious disease control, maternal care, surveillance, emergency preparedness, and community engagement are all interconnected.

Healthy pregnancies depend on stable health systems.

Healthy newborns require protected communities.

Nutrition programs cannot function effectively when epidemics overwhelm healthcare facilities.

The experience reminded me that public health is never predictable. Plans can change overnight. Disease outbreaks, natural disasters, political instability, and humanitarian crises can reshape priorities within hours. Professionals working in global health must remain flexible, resilient, and prepared to adapt.

Although I never crossed into Goma, the journey was not entirely wasted.

During my stay in Kampala, I interacted with health professionals who shared experiences managing infectious disease outbreaks. Conversations centered on surveillance systems, community awareness, infection prevention, and cross-border collaboration. These discussions broadened my understanding of regional health security and reinforced the importance of cooperation between neighboring countries.

I also reflected on the resilience of health workers in eastern DRC. Even as Ebola threatened communities, many continued providing maternal healthcare, treating malnutrition, supporting pregnant women, and caring for newborns under extremely difficult circumstances. Their courage deserved admiration.

The cancelled trip also strengthened my appreciation for knowledge sharing beyond physical travel. Although I could not attend the training in person, technology and professional networks made it possible to continue learning remotely. Reports, research publications, virtual discussions, and continued collaboration ensured that valuable lessons from Mothers First could still reach professionals across borders.

Sometimes learning does not happen where we expect it to.

Sometimes the greatest lessons emerge from unexpected obstacles.

Looking back, I no longer see the journey as a failure.

Instead, I see it as a reminder that public health extends beyond individual programs. Nutrition interventions, disease surveillance, emergency preparedness, community education, and international cooperation are all pieces of the same puzzle.

The mothers we hope to serve need more than nutritious food. They need functioning health systems capable of protecting them from infectious diseases, ensuring safe pregnancies, providing skilled birth attendants, and responding rapidly during emergencies.

The newborns we seek to protect deserve environments where both nutrition and disease prevention receive equal priority.

Although I never reached Goma, the experience deepened my commitment to maternal and child health. It reminded me that every health worker must be prepared for uncertainty and every health system must remain resilient in the face of emerging threats.

One closed border temporarily interrupted my plans, but it did not diminish my purpose.

The journey taught me patience.

It taught me adaptability.

It taught me respect for public health decisions that protect entire populations.

Most importantly, it reinforced my belief that improving maternal and newborn health requires collaboration across borders, continuous learning, and unwavering commitment—even when circumstances change unexpectedly.

One day, I still hope to visit Goma and witness the Mothers First nutrition program firsthand. I hope to meet the women whose lives have been transformed, the health workers leading change, and the communities proving that better maternal nutrition leads to healthier babies.

Until then, I carry with me the lesson that sometimes the destination is delayed, but the purpose remains alive.

Some journeys end at closed borders.

Others continue within us, shaping the professionals—and the people—we become.