Husni is living the true path of his medical profession, as part of his mission with international humanitarian organization Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), also known as Doctors Without Borders.

'€œI am a fond believer that we'€™re citizens of the world and with MSF, I get to be the kind of doctor I want to be: without borders,'€ said Husni, who is one of 10 Indonesian doctors currently working with the organization.

Since joining the group, in the past two years he has been assigned to three missions: the first was in a refugee camp in South Sudan and then an HIV/AIDS healthcare program in Malawi.

In the past six months, he has been posted as the pediatric team leader at MSF'€™s hospital for critically ill children and pregnant women with birth complications in Sierra Leone, West Africa '€” where the healthcare system has been shattered by a decade-long civil war.

'€œMSF has assigned me to work in places where people have little or no functioning health care, which most of the time is the result of complex issues,'€ he says.

'€œProfessionally, I have learned to be a better doctor and personally, I have become a better person through each assignment.'€

Born in the South Sulawesi town of Sidrap, Husni '€” who just turned 29 on April 5 '€” did not grow up wanting to become a doctor. He wanted to become an astronaut but had to bury his dream after realizing he was not strong enough in physics and math.

It was his parents, neither of them doctors, who persuaded him to study medicine at Hasanuddin University in Makassar. However, it didn'€™t take long for him to fall in love with medicine.

Light moment: Husni Mubarak Zainal plays with a child in Doro Refugee Camp, South Sudan.

His decision to join MSF did make his family worry at first since most of the countries where the organization carries out projects were places rarely heard of in Indonesia.

'€œI am always honest about security issues, about the constraints that I might be facing during my assignments and promise to always keep in touch,'€ said Husni, who regularly chats with his mother and five siblings or makes surprise video calls every now and then.

Upon graduation, he did not immediately apply for a position with MSF, although he had been wanted to since he was just a medical student after learning about the organization'€™s quick response following the Aceh tsunami.

Instead, he took up a job at a medical center in Makassar and later stepped out of his comfort zone by joining Operation Wallacea expeditions in Sulawesi.

During these expeditions, he assisted team members in their research, tracing the trails of Anoa pigmy buffalo or looking for Sulawesi'€™s giant frogs '€” learning how to survive in the jungle by making fire, reading maps and frying an egg on a leaf.

After applying for a position with MSF in 2011, he found out that being an MSF doctor requires dedication and passion.

Being in the frontline, he said, was one of his best '€œschools'€ in life '€” allowing him to learn new things on a daily basis, such as about diseases he usually comes across only in medical textbooks or how to use his best skills when time is pressing and in extreme conditions.

The job, he said, also allowed him to travel to places he had never heard of and gave him the opportunity to get up close and personal with different tribes and cultures.

'€œBut on top of everything, being an MSF doctor, witnessing the reality of people living in areas affected by war,
poverty, plagues and how they struggle for a better life has taught me to be more grateful for every
single thing that I have,'€ he says.

During his first 11-month mission in Malawi, he was the only doctor at the Thekerani clinic, one of the far-south clinics at the border between Malawi and Mozambique. The rest of the workers posted there were nurses and Health Ministry staff.

The clinic had around 3,000 HIV/AIDS patients in 2012 and conducted some 3,000 to 4,000 outpatient consultations while inpatient services reached up to 150 patients each month.

'€œLike all over Malawi, we had very limited manpower and a heavy workload, so we did most of the things ourselves '€” from registering and diagnosing a patient, conducting simple laboratory tests, administering drugs to changing the patients'€™ bed sheets.'€

At the 24-hour Gondama Referral Center in Gondama village, Bo district in Sierra Leone, Husni witnessed the reality of people living in areas plagued by disease and poverty, with very little access to quality health care.

Many of his patients '€” children under 15 years old '€” arrived unconscious and in shock, as a result of diseases like cerebral malaria, sepsis and also herbal intoxication.

'€œI'€™m not sure if '€˜terrifying'€™ is the right word [to describe the situation] but I'€™ve had some patients with severe conditions and I'€™m just very glad they made it,'€ said Husni, whose shift lasts up to
12-hour a day.

He took comfort in making plenty of friends, who came from different parts of the world. '€œI'€™ve spent
Ramadhan with them and they'€™ve spent Christmas with me. We have traveled around together during breaks as well,'€ he says.

Although there was not enough time to fully master the language where he was posted, he learned some words to help him communicate with his patients. But the one word he hears every day is pumwi '€” a local word that literally means '€œwhite person'€.

'€œThe children always call us '€˜pumwi, pumwi'€™ and even our patients, although we tell them our name, they will still call us '€˜doctor pumwi'€™,'€ Husni said.

Some of the children have grown close to him and he finds each of them special. '€œAnd that'€™s the thing
I love the most about my job, I am not only treating a patient. I'€™m making friends and being part of someone'€™s life,'€ he said.

During his missions, he doesn'€™t always get the chance to return home but he has done so between assignments, unless there is an emergency. His next mission will likely be in Pakistan.

'€œI'€™d like to go back someday and contribute to my country again by opening a health clinic or establishing an NGO focusing on decentralizing health care with a touch of local wisdom and culture.'€