What Do You Carry When You Leave a Community?
Date: 08 May 2026
âThe real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.â - Marcel Proust
I thought community practice would teach me how to work in communities. Instead, it taught me how to look at people differently and maybe more honestly, how to look at myself differently. Now that this block is ending, I find myself sitting with an uncomfortable question: what exactly am I carrying with me as I leave? Not just skills, marks or completed reports, but the quieter things the conversations that stayed too long in my mind, the moments that disrupted me, the parts of myself that were challenged in spaces where I could not hide behind theory.
Over these four weeks, I learnt that community practice is not as clean or structured as we are often taught to expect within institutional healthcare. In hospitals, we are trained to think quickly - assess, identify deficits, intervene, discharge. Time is short, beds are needed, and intervention often becomes task oriented. But the community does not move according to hospital rhythms. It forces you to slow down, it forces you to notice things that cannot be measured on an outcome form. I think that is what unsettled me most realising that healing is not always visible in the ways we expect, or even after caregiver education some of the techniques are not necessarily carried over but families rather do what is quicker and efficient.
One moment that continues to stay with me happened during one of our interactions with women in Mariannridge. We were discussing roles, identity, and self-worth through a simple activity that asked them to write down one strength about themselves. The room was quiet for longer than expected. Some laughed awkwardly. One woman eventually said softly, âNgisakhohlwe ukuthi ngingubaniâ I have forgotten who I am. I remember feeling completely unprepared for that sentence. Not academically, but emotionally, in that moment the activity stopped being an intervention and became something heavier. It became a reflection of occupational loss not only losing jobs or opportunities but losing connection to self. Hammell (2015) argues that occupation is deeply connected to identity, meaning, and belonging, and suddenly that theory no longer felt theoretical. It was sitting directly in front of me.
What community practice has taught me is that occupational deprivation in South Africa cannot be separated from history, poverty, gender, unemployment, and systemic inequality. Research from the World Health Organization highlights that health is shaped largely by social determinants such as housing, income, education, and access to services (WHO, 2020). Before this block, I understood that academically. But there is a difference between reading about inequality and sitting inside it, even though we grew up knowing of these imbalances but in some communities that is louder than you would expect. There is a difference between discussing occupational injustice in class and watching a caregiver explain that transport money means choosing between attending therapy or buying electricity.
And perhaps that is where my biggest professional shift happened. Earlier in my training, I believed good occupational therapy meant having the correct intervention, the correct frame of reference, or the correct grading principles. Community practice complicated that thinking, it taught me that sometimes the most important clinical skill is not treatment it is listening. Truly listening. Not listening to respond but listening long enough to understand context. Townsend and Wilcock (2004) describe occupational justice as the right to participate in meaningful occupations, yet participation is often determined long before a person enters therapy. It is shaped by systems, policies, geography, economics, and power.
I also became more aware of power within myself. As students, we often enter communities wanting to help but rarely interrogate what âhelpingâ means. This block forced me to confront the subtle power attached to being viewed as educated, medically informed, or professionally trained. Freire (1970) warns against approaching communities from a position of superiority rather than partnership, and I began recognising how easy it is to unintentionally position ourselves as âfixers.â But communities are not empty spaces waiting for professional expertise. People already hold knowledge about survival, adaptation, and resilience. Our role is not to arrive as saviours, but to walk alongside people while respecting that knowledge, this is where my supervisor inserted the element of âworking with the community rather than working for itâ.
Personally, this block also brought me back to my own journey with occupational therapy. There were moments during these weeks where I thought about leaving UKZN years ago, about working as a Community Based Rehabilitation worker before returning to complete this degree, and about how differently I now understand this profession compared to when I first entered it in 2013. Back then, I think I saw occupational therapy mainly within hospital walls. Now I understand that some of the most important parts of rehabilitation happen after discharge in homes, communities, schools, streets, clinics, and relationships. The community is not separate from healthcare, it is where healthcare continues.
I think the KLE ECD visits taught me this most clearly. Watching children participate in play-based activities reminded me that occupation begins long before productivity or independence. It begins in connection, play, routine, movement, and belonging. One child struggled to balance during an activity and became visibly frustrated. Before any therapist intervened, another child instinctively held his hand and said, âWoza, sizokwenza together.â Come, weâll do it together. That moment stayed with me because it reflected something deeper than motor skills or developmental milestones. It reflected interdependence, and maybe that is another thing community practice disrupted in me the idea that independence is always the highest goal. In many South African contexts, survival itself is collective.
Academically, this block pushed me to think more critically about occupational therapy itself. Hammell (2015) critiques how Western healthcare models often prioritise independence, productivity, and individual achievement, sometimes overlooking collective cultural realities. In our context, occupational therapy cannot simply be imported unchanged. It must respond to the realities of unemployment, overcrowding, violence, inaccessible transport, and unequal healthcare access, which goes along with limited resources to aid improvement or maintenance. Otherwise, we risk creating interventions that look good academically but fail practically.
Politically, I leave this block more aware that healthcare is never neutral. Access to care, access to education, and even access to meaningful occupations is shaped by power. South Africaâs fractured public healthcare system means that many communities continue to experience delayed intervention, inadequate follow-up, and poor accessibility (World Bank, 2021). As future community service therapists, we will enter these systems whether we are ready or not. The question is whether we will simply adapt to them, or whether we will remain critical enough to advocate within them.
As I move towards community service, I do not feel fully prepared but maybe preparedness was never the point. Maybe growth is less about certainty and more about awareness. I think this block taught me how to sit with discomfort instead of rushing to solve it. It taught me that flexibility matters more than perfection, and that meaningful intervention sometimes begins with humility rather than expertise.
Most importantly, I leave understanding that communities are not âplacements.â They are peopleâs lives. And long after the reports are submitted and this module ends, I think parts of these communities will continue living inside the way I practice, the way I listen, and the kind of therapist I choose to become.
Because in the end, the most important thing community practice gave me was not confidence it was conscience.
References
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum.
Hammell, K. W. (2015). Respecting global wisdom: Enhancing the cultural relevance of occupational therapyâs theoretical base. British Journal of Occupational Therapy, 78(11), 718â721.
Townsend, E., & Wilcock, A. (2004). Occupational justice and client-centred practice: A dialogue in progress. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 71(2), 75â87.
World Health Organization. (2020). Social Determinants of Health.
World Bank. (2021). Inequality in Southern Africa Report.
Statistics South Africa. (2022). General Household Survey.
Sen, A. (1999). Development as Freedom. Oxford University Press.
Durocher, E., Gibson, B., & Rappolt, S. (2014). Occupational justice: Future directions. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 81(5), 274â280.
World Federation of Occupational Therapists. (2019). Position Statement on Community-Based Rehabilitation.
Wilcock, A. A. (2006). An Occupational Perspective of Health. Slack Incorporated.
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