There’s a word in Swahili – pole pole. It means slowly, gently.
It’s one of the first phrases I heard here in Nairobi, murmured by guides as we went on hikes, mechanics bent over circuits, or whispered by mentors during brainstorming sessions. Pole pole – don’t rush. Let the rhythm guide you. Let things take the shape they’re meant to, in the time they’re meant to.
It’s funny how deeply that word has come to anchor me. A kind of softness, a rhythm of living that hums beneath the rush of traffic and the buzz of circuits, whispering that not all progress is loud. I didn’t know I was searching for that place until I found it. Or maybe until it found me in the quiet chirping outside our design studio each morning. Until I learnt that some of the most lasting things in life, like growth, begin pole pole.
Listening Closely: The Fetoscope Pivot
We started this summer building AutoFeto – a low-cost digital fetoscope to monitor fetal heart rates, originally using a microphone embedded in a 3D-printed horn. But as testing progressed, reality (and physics) pushed back. The mics we sourced struggled to pick up the low-frequency signals we needed. They were also expensive and hard to find locally.
So we pivoted. Pole pole.
We stepped back, reimagined the problem, and began designing a new solution that used what was already accessible – a smartphone. Most clinicians here have a phone with a functioning mic. What if we could harness that?
Soon, we were prototyping a cardboard-based adapter cap. It was lined with foam for sound insulation and could secure a phone on top of a Pinard horn that we printed for testing. We went through a few design iterations. The first was too narrow. The second added flaps and a rubber band system for a better fit. After some tests (and a lot of tape), we started getting audio clear enough to process!
Meanwhile, on the software side, things were moving fast. I converted our MATLAB filtering pipeline into Python for back-end mobile compatibility, added wavelet denoising, and tweaked dynamic peak detection that finally gave us a stable, interpretable heartbeat trace. I also worked on a JavaScript version to create a basic website for proof of concept, but we decided to go the app route for better functionality.
Ellena continued building the front end in Flutter, and now we are exploring methods to integrate the Python code with the code on Flutter. Alex, a friend from the summer program who also happens to be great at computer science, helped us set up a temporary API server so we can run the two pieces of code together. For now, our app and analysis pipeline run on separate servers, but it’s a huge step forward! Our vision is to eventually combine everything into a single device, maybe through Chaquopy (a development kit) and a Java bridge.
We also met with Dr. Lonji, a physician-engineer affiliated with East Africa Biodesign, who gave us invaluable feedback on adoption strategies, including a potential collaboration with a local digital partograph initiative. It’s the kind of next-step thinking that makes this feel real. We’re laying the groundwork for something that lasts. We hope to keep developing the fetoscope after we return, working with colleagues here, and growing the idea beyond our time in Nairobi!
‘Shocking’ Progress: Active Cast Developments
While AutoFeto delved into software-land, our other project – Active Cast Electrotherapy (ACE) for atrophy prevention – was deep in hardware.
We finally got our hands on proper electrodes and watched the stimulation module fire in rhythm. We also did some initial testing on ourselves (don’t recreate at home haha) and felt the stimulation on our forearms! There’s something magical about seeing a signal you built trigger an actual twitch, something physical. We’d stared at breadboards and buzzing wires for so long – to see muscle movement felt unreal. We then soldered both the stimulation and sensing circuits to prepare for our upcoming design review with our mentors.
As the circuits began to take shape, so did the system around them. Jacey designed a compact box that houses the stimulation circuit and power source, making it portable. We’re in early talks about using the same Arduino to power both the EMG and stimulation circuits, an emergency shutoff feature, and user feedback mechanisms for physiotherapists. And as always, we’re thinking ahead about future work with our colleague Waka, physiotherapists, and potential users!
At our design review last Monday, we shared all these updates with our mentors, and their response was very encouraging.
They liked our progress and the functionality of the devices, and prompted us to begin thinking about implementation and sustainability. How would this be maintained in a clinic? Who would fund it? Could a business model evolve from this? All things we have now been integrating with the engineering part of the design process.
Even as our summer winds down, these devices are just beginning. What remains isn’t just circuitry, it’s momentum in motion!
The Heart of the Work
Our past few weeks were also filled with clinician visits, each one grounding us a little deeper in the realities of the work we’re doing.
It began at Pumwani Maternity Hospital, the largest of its kind in Kenya, where we met with Dr. Mugambi (OB/GYN) to present our Endometrial Biopsy training model. We walked him through the device, had him collect a biopsy sample with it, and talked through the scenarios it was designed to simulate. He was incredibly receptive and gave us thoughtful feedback on the texture and firmness of the uterus and common use cases in Nairobi.
This hospital also has a training center that does city-wide trainings with donated models – something that I am excited to be looking into in terms of future collaborations! I shared these updates with my team and mentors back in Houston, and we are excited to get back to campus and implement everything we have learnt about our project this summer!
Later that afternoon, we tucked ourselves into a microbakery surrounded by swaying trees, sipping coffee and breaking apart hunks of sourdough. We wrote up our findings with (the best) chocolate miso cake on our tongues and sunshine on our shoulders.
Then, the week continued. We compiled our reports and prepared for our next clinical discussion, coincidentally with another Dr. Mugambi (Paediatric Surgeon) to present the gastroschisis bag prototype. My favorite part was seeing how excited he was to talk to us about the device, recognizing the importance of this need in the local context. He immediately began asking thoughtful questions about the material, the sealing method, and the size adaptability.
He also gave us valuable feedback, like considering a single ring versus the current double-ring design, and testing rings of varying diameters to accommodate different neonatal sizes. We’re excited to convey this feedback back to the team in Houston!
But perhaps the most valuable feedback of all was personal. In these meeting rooms, surrounded by innovation and passion, I felt a quiet certainty settle in. Each clinical visit reaffirmed the stakes of our work and the community it serves. I left each hospital overcome by a tidal wave of joy, fulfillment, and a quiet conviction. This is what I came here to do. This is what I want to do. Engineering in conversation with need. Design in conversation with care. I’d never felt so sure, so alive, so fully in motion. And that’s a feeling I hope to carry with me forever.
In the Light of Late Afternoons
When our laptops closed and the solder cooled, we stepped into a different kind of magic.
Some evenings blurred into thrift store wanderings with friends, fingers brushing faded denim, laughter rising as we picked jackets for each other we’d never wear. Other nights ended with salsa dancing at Nairobi street kitchen, watching the Stewards Cup race at Ngong racecourse, or at a small cinema watching a documentary on Sister Nancy (first female dancehall DJ). We shared a lot of plates and even more memories with new friends who now feel like family. We’re already trying to plan our next reunion!
And on our last weekend, we took one final trip. Lake Naivasha shimmered like something out of a dream. We set out on our drive early in the morning, seeing the glorious rift valley on our way to Naivasha.
We rode a boat on the lake past families of hippos and a diversity of African bird life: African jacanas, spoonbills, egrets, and ibis. You name it, and it was probably sitting on an acacia tree nearby! We then ate lunch beside grazing zebras and wildebeest at a private sanctuary, and grazed through the surrounding savannah on horseback (equestrian bucket list item!!).
I had the best conversation with our guide, Hamidi, who was a fellow rider and told me about his upcoming showjumping competition at Mt. Kenya. I told him he must visit Jaipur (India) to keep chasing his newest adventure: Polo.
We then drove to Hell’s Gate National Park to see the famous Gorge. I thought it was going to be an easy, scenic trail. Suddenly, we were being asked to slide down sulfur rocks to enter the canyon! It was slippery and a little chaotic, but still, it was an absolute microcosm of the most beautiful natural features. We listened to our guide as he showed us the canyon’s medicines – natural hot springs that the Maasai used after childbirth and the leaves that they crush for healing. We might have lost a bottle of bug spray or two trying to jump across the rocks, but the view at the end was more than worth it!
As we reached the final lookout, the gorge spilled open into a vast green valley, sunlight draping over cliffs and trees in golden sheets. The sight (which inspired the Lion King’s stampede scene!) took my breath away.
As we drove back home, I reflected on this moment. The wild beauty, the silence between the wind and the rock, the knowledge that nature has shaped these canyons for centuries. I felt, suddenly, the smallness of our existence and the vastness of what still lies ahead.
Leaving Slowly
Coming back to pole pole. Back when we first arrived, it felt like a nice phrase. A cultural rhythm I admired but hadn’t yet embodied.
But now, as this chapter closes, I understand.
This summer unfolded just like that: slowly, deliberately. Through every debugging session, each hospital visit, every late-night brainstorm, and quiet sunrise. The most meaningful things took time – and I’m leaving with a deep reverence for that pace.
From our first hesitant prototypes to final design reviews, from hospital courtyards to zebras grazing beside our lunch table, every part of this summer has felt impossibly alive. I’ve shared dreams with clinicians, laughed with friends in crowded cars, broken bread under starry skies, and scribbled breakthroughs onto the backs of receipts.
I know now that it takes time to learn a place. Time to build something with care, to understand a rhythm not your own. This summer was never about rushing. It was about listening, shaping, and becoming.
And now, as we close our laptops and lift our suitcases, I carry this pace with me. Not just in memory, but in motion.
Until the finale!
Saumya 🍃🌅