I can‘t cry. I‘ve been called a liar, cold-hearted, traumatized. Whatever. I just know I can‘t, even if I really want to.
The last time I cried was when I had to call my host mom in Tokomadji (say it: toe-koe-MAH-gee) to tell her I wasn‘t coming back to our village because Mauritania had become unsafe for Peace Corps Volunteers to continue living there.
The 75 of us arrived in Mauritania on June 17th, 2008. About a week later the number-two man in the government overthrew the President in a bloodless coupd‘état. We should‘ve known then that we were doomed.
In the capital, Nouakchott (say it: new-OCK-shot), and on the border near Mali, Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM ) had begun targeting white people and foreigners in general: killing an American missionary, kidnapping aid workers, etc.. Because of severely limited communication systems in the country‘s infrastructure, we had almost no idea that these other things were going on in the country. In our villages, PCVs were just fine, plugging along at our jobs and integration.
Late June 2009 we were offered Interrupted Service: the opportunity to Close our Service and go home. Of our 74 that swore in (no ETs), 23 took this option. This means they can be reinstated or re-enrolled later and (I think) still receive the benefits of an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer).
Of course, in the village we were fine; totally safe and protected by our villagers. I could picture it if a threat came to Tokomadji, and I know every single person would line-up in front of me and do whatever it took to protect me from harm. No question.
July 25, 2009, on my way to a PCV‘s extensively planned "Eco/Health Camp" for young girls, I got a phone call from my APCD saying I need to be in Nouakchott in 3 days‘ time and I need to pack my things for going home. After immediately freaking out because of this out of the blue phone call, he assured me I wasn‘t going home, but I just needed to pack as if I was.
Because Mauritania has all of four paved roads in the entire country, travel is really difficult (it took me two days to get from my village to Nouakchott, and anywhere from three to eight hours to go from my village to Kaédi, the nearest regional capital). I got to my village and had one day to go around to all 1,000 of my neighbors and explain that I was going to Senegal for about two weeks because we‘re not sure if Mauritania is safe. But I‘ll probably be back; we all agreed that Mauritania is safe, and I‘ll be back in no time.
All 51 Peace Corps Volunteers from Mauritania were pulled into Senegal while a Safety and Security Team evaluated the viability of continuing in Mauritania. They bused us to the PC training center in Thies (say it: ch-ez), Senegal where we were treated very well, bonding like you'd never think possible, and enjoying the similarities in Mauritanian and Senegalese culture. Then Mauritania's first ever suicide bomber attacked, injuring two guards at the French Embassy and 1 random jogger (as re-ported by NY Times).
Michelle with her community members
Photo courtesy of Michelle Hernandez
I love that no matter where we are in West Africa the people are (generally) warm, open, interested, and talkative! A local jewelry maker, a woman named Adama (say it: Adam-ah), came to the training center every day to sell her stuff to us; she also started calling me "Bobine" (say it: BOW-bine, rhymes with pine, meaning "daughter") and invited me to her amazingly artistic house. She, her painter hus-band, and nine artistic children paint, sculpt, sew, and make jewelry for sale to the public. They gave jewelry to everyone who bought from them, and even gave me some paintings. Samba Ly, Adama's husband, has a website with some of his work. Just like in Mauritania, the people are willing to give whatever they have to a friend (and everyone is considered a friend) and treat you to some of the best hospitality I've seen in the world (not that I've been everywhere, but a fair amount ).
On a Thursday, then Peace Corps Deputy Director Jody Olsen came to Dakar to break the news: we couldn‘t go back to Mauritania. Not even to say goodbye (unless you weren‘t planning on continuing with PC and could get yourself there, otherwise policy states that a PCV would be putting him/herself in deliberate danger, against Peace Corps regulations, and would be Administratively Separated). It was great having such an experienced and important person there with us: Mrs. Olsen was an incredible resource and source of information, hope and compassion for us in our situation. By Sunday we had to write our DOS (Description of Service, a standard PCV document that summarizes your experience and work), fill out a form to get our belongings gathered and sent to us from our villages, and decide if we wanted to: 1- COS (Close of Service, ending our contract as PCVs and becoming RPCVs), 2- Re-enroll at a later date for a different program or 3- Transfer to another program directly.
She contacted country directors, explained the situation, and about 14 directors offered us a place in their program. We just had to choose the one we wanted based on the positions available and our personal skills and inter-ests.
24 volunteers transferred programs; 14 of us came here to Rwanda to finish our second year of the two-year contract. We did have almost two months from the time we left Senegal until we began Pre-Service Training in Rwanda, so we were able to go home for that time. Four volunteers have extended, showing their dedication to the people we serve: Mark (for four months with the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda), Ashley (for a full year working with Rwanda‘s Justice Strengthening Program, organizing and connecting Education PCVs to judicial employees to learn English and as the Malaria Initiative Coordinator), Matt, and me (both for a full year working at CHF International, a
development organization).
Michelle at work in the garden of a women‘s cooperative
Photo courtesy of Michelle Hernandez
No comments:
Post a Comment