Evacuation

I’m writing this blogpost from Rabat, Morocco, where all Peace Corps Niger volunteers have been evacuated as of January 17.

The recent kidnapping and killing of two French nationals in Niamey, by Al Qaeda of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) terrorists caused Peace Corps Headquarters and the State Department to rethinking the safety and security of all Americans, specifically PCVs in Niger. If you want to read more about the kidnappings and other recent attacks on foreigners by AQIM, I suggest reading articles from the Associated Press, or Africa Review… or google it yourself.  

I really do not have words to express my disappointment, my profound sadness. All I can say is I hope expressing my immense heartache helps better describe to everyone back home the warmth and generosity I experienced in Niger. I leave Niger with a better understanding of development, but also a greater appreciation for its people and their way of life. Sai hankuri (have patience) is the phrase I kept hearing over the last week. Now I’m trying, but it’s difficult.

I was assisting with prenatal consultations at the health hut in Kore Hausa (my assigned post), last Wednesday, January 13^th, when my boss Souleyman called to break the news. I tried to go back to work after I hung up the phone, but within minutes I had to excuse myself and go home to regroup.

As soon as I reached my concession I started weeping. It came all of the sudden and surprised me: I had been in Kore only a week, I don’t cry easily… and still there I was sobbing uncontrollably about leaving the place I was getting so excited to call home.

Ami, Masbahou’s wife, must have heard me because a few minutes later she called over the thatch fence that Masbahou wanted to talk to me. When I got back to the health hut Masbahou, concerned, closed the door.

I tried to explain in my best Hausa that Peace Corps told me I had to leave because of insecurity in Niamey. He asked me if I was scared. “Of course not!” I replied. “So why are you crying?” he replied with genuine concern and wonder. In Niger, no one cries.

“Ina son zamna nan, cikin Kore!” I replied. I want to live here, in Kore. Masbahou smiled and told me not to worry, that as long as I was not scared there were no problems. Then, in a more serious tone, he told me I could not cry. If I cried, everyone else would cry and that would be a problem. I took this request to heart and spent the next twenty-four hours trying my best to comply.

Again, I am without words to express my sorrow. Everyone in Kore Hausa welcomed me with open arms from the moment I arrived. When I told Masbahou I was not scared, I was being completely honest. Niger is the safest I have ever felt in my entire life.

There’s a lot more I want to say and incha’Allah I will write more about these experiences soon. I am going through an evacuation conference in Morocco at the moment, unclear what my immediate future holds. I literally do not know what country I will be in three days from now. BUT I am safe, and relatively healthy. Thanks to everyone for all the support so far and stay tuned for more news.