I visited Tanzania for a month, and after my last week, I was ready to go home.

My last week, I got sick not once but twice.

The first thing I got was parasites.

Waking up in the worst pain I have ever been in and puking my guts out, I thought was the worst that could happen. I got the eight pills I had to take, and after a few days in bed, I was back on my feet.

But then a few days later, it came again. The exact same pain and stomach problems.

I was sure it had to be more parasites. Since it was so close to the last time I was sick and several others in my group were sick, we were rushed to the hospital.

The ride to the hospital was rough. Actually, that's an understatement. As we went through Tarakea, a small city, I needed the driver to pull over because I was feeling so sick. I basically fell on the ground puking. When I finally look up, I see a crowd has formed around me, watching a white American girl puke her guts out.

We finally made it to the hospital.

The waiting room is full and there is only one doctor available. Being three Americans, we were seen first, skipping the entire line, which I felt so guilty about.

They examined us in the room they take everyone else in. But then we were almost immediately brought to an upgraded lab that was recently donated by Canadians. All the while, the rest of the patients stay behind in the crowded and dirty waiting room.

This is where they told us that we had food poisoning.

The craziest part came when we had to pay. For all of the medicine, the attention from the doctor, we paid $5.

The saddest part is that these incredibly low medical costs are still unreachable for many Tanzanians. With, according to the World Bank, only one third of workers reporting earning wages for their labor, the average making a measly $45 per month.