| Considering that the
Army only has a 3.4 percent Asian population, how did this
doctor become one of the few South Asians to join up? Born in Waraha,
Maharashtra, Bakare hails from the center of India, quite literally.
“If you draw a line from Kashmir to the cape and one from Bombay
to Calcutta, there is my hometown,” she says. Bakare’s
immigration to America was quite unusual for the time: “I came
in the 1960s. It’s not like it is now. Then, there were no Indian
people, let alone single Indian women in Connecticut.”
America’s lack of diversity did not deter Bakare and neither
did the male-dominated nature of her specialty, general surgery: “At
that time, there were practically no women in surgery… There
was one other woman resident with me… The hospital had never
had two women residents at one time before.” From what she has
seen, Bakare believes that women still tend to be leery about time-demanding
surgical careers, opting for other specializations that lend themselves
more easily to combining both careers and family.
Bakare cites the fact that she did not have children (although she
is married) as one of the reasons she was able to become involved
with the military. She had the time to enrich her career as a surgeon
with participation in the Army Reserves: “I became involved
in the Army late in life… around the time of [Operation Desert
Storm], the first Gulf War… [It was a] burnout kind of thing.
You reach a certain stage where everything at work is just not as
challenging. I wanted to try something different… I also joined
the Army to make sure I didn’t become heavy,” she jokes,
referring to the rigorous fitness standard the Army demands.
According to Bakare, “There are two types of people who are
part of the military… The first is the ‘career’
armed forces, people who either went to West Point or…. join
[out of high school] because they need the money and don’t have
the advantages of education.” The other way people become involved
in the military is the Army Reserves. People who join the Army Reserves
are not exclusively trained for military service but support the Army
with the skills they use in civilian life. Lawyers, engineers and,
in the case of Bakare, doctors, are just a few of the civilian careers
held by members of the Army Reserves. As a Reservist, Bakare volunteers
one weekend a month and two weeks a year, participating in drills
and working at an Army hospital.
“Yes, I am trained in combat,” she says,
“The Army wants to make you a soldier… You want to say,
‘I’m willing to take care of your injured soldiers because
I’m a good doctor.’” Indeed, the Army wants doctors
like Bakare to join up, as it is short on surgeons. Bakare cites the
surgeon shortage as “20 percent less than needed.”
In her Army training, Bakare is put in combat situations and is given
the very same training as “regular soldiers.” The Army
does not expect the Reservists to measure up exactly with a full-time
soldier’s training, but does ensure that they come very close
because, “The Army thinks of [all] soldiers as assets. Just
as you protect your most valuable guns and ships, protect your surgeons,
take good care of them.” The training, then, is as much for
the Reservists own benefit as for the Army’s.
Stationed in Baghdad Airport during her tour in Iraq, which lasted
from May to August of 2003, Bakare exercised her medical skills more
frequently than her combat skills. Living on a schedule much like
that of a fireman, she never knew what to expect. However, Bakare
had to always be ready to spring into action. Working with a Forward
Surgical Team, a source of immediate medical care for troops, Bakare,
along with 19 people, including other surgeons, anesthesiologists,
and nurses, traveled with everything they needed to create an operating
room in a tent. In six Humvees and trailers, they had refrigerators,
generators, lamps, carts and tables, as well as sinks with pedals
to pump water.
“The whole system can be set up in four hours, anywhere on
the face of the earth, if you are trained to do it,” she says,
“It can be taken down in two. We want to take the care as close
to the injured as possible. With sooner treatment, we have higher
chances of recovery. This is the principle of the Forward Surgical
Team.”
Generally, Bakare worked 12-hour shifts, desperately trying to catch
up on sleep otherwise. However, when there were mass casualties, everyone
had to wake up and be ready for work. Grateful that the situation
in Iraq was relatively quiet when she was over there, Bakare remembers
being exhausted not from the work but from the heat and dust of Iraq.
“The dust was everywhere when a helicopter landed,” she
recounts, “It is a fine dust… The type of dust that made
a nice mudpack. Free sauna [from the heat] and mudpacks. And we were
slim. Everyone looked nice when they came back.” Bakare’s
sense of humor is undoubtedly a source of her perseverance.
Although Bakare’s interaction with the Iraqi people was minimal,
she had the opportunity to meet with several families. One family
in particular came to her team with their little daughter who was
accidentally caught in the crossfire. Understandably, the parents
were angry and upset. However, they were adamant about having their
daughter seen in the Army hospital, not a local hospital. They knew
their daughter would receive better care from the Army, but their
tone, in the words of Bakare was, “You caused this, you fix
it.” Bakare also had a chance to see more positive interactions
between Iraqis and Americans. An Iraqi medical student was working
as a guide for American troops and the Humvee they were traveling
in had blown up. The Iraqi student was hurt less than an American
soldier with whom he had bonded and repeatedly called at the hospital
to check on his friend. The genuine concern that the Iraqi felt for
the American was heartening in an uncertain time: the Bush administration
had declared the war over, Saddam Hussein’s statue had come
down, yet everyone knew the end was nowhere near.
Due to the unified and indeed uniformed nature of the armed forces,
being South Asian was of little relevance to Bakare’s experience.
“First, I was a surgeon, then an American, then whatever else,”
she says. Back in the United States, however, Bakare is still treated
like a foreigner sometimes, but she thinks that the perennial question,
“Where are you from?” is voiced quite differently now
than it was when she first arrived in America. In the 1960s, the question
was an incredulous one, implying or even exaggerating the difference
between her and the inquirer. Now, however, Bakare hears the question
as a very “American” one: “As soon as we know someone,
we somehow ask about heritage.” The implication is that being
“American” means that although we are currently living
in America, we (or our ancestors) all came from somewhere else. Rather
than seeing the question as divisive, Bakare sees the inherent commonality
of America’s diversity.
Having returned safely from her time in Iraq, Bakare
has spoken about her experiences with both medical and community groups.
In her experience, South Asians with whom she has spoken are very
proud to know that “one of us” served in Iraq. Bakare
identifies this pride as the type she, herself, felt when hearing
about Kalpana Chawla, the first Indian-born woman in space aboard
the ill-fated space shuttle Columbia. While the many professional
positions held by South Asians in America and abroad are important,
Bakare notes that we want to be part of the accomplishments made by
South Asians who choose career paths that are not typical. Indeed,
Colonel Sanjivani Bakare is one of these very South Asians, representing
America and us in the U.S. Army.
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