On Jan. 4, after being on "lockdown" in Kakamega, the group was whisked out by two small aircraft from the airstrip there. As they evacuated Kakamega, they had only the clothes they were wearing and the small bags they had taken on vacation with them. On Jan. 21, my daughter, along with her peers, sadly returned to the United States. Earlier this month, the Peace Corps suspended its program in Kenya. I too felt horribly saddened that her journey with the Kenyan people and that of the other Peace Corps volunteers was so suddenly and alarmingly stopped. She was bonding with the Kenyans at her school site and was excitedly awaiting the arrival of her students. As a parent, looking back I am grateful for the Peace Corps' diligence and caring for their volunteers. They have done their best to ensure the physical and mental health of the volunteers returning to the U.S. I feel great anger that the arrogance and hunger for power of one man in particular should have brought such a beautiful country and people to its knees. The feeling of hope I had for her community in Kenya somehow gave me hope for my son in Iraq. The knowledge that she was engaged in productive and meaningful work stemmed the pain and worry I have felt for my son. While no one yet knows what the future holds for Kenya, my daughter will move on with her life and await her next challenge, while always holding the people of Kenya dear to her heart.
Madeleine Tavares writes: A son in Iraq, a daughter in Kenya
A son in Iraq, a daughter in Kenya
By Special to the Times-Union
Last September, my daughter left for Kenya with the Peace Corps to teach high school biology and chemistry.
Last November, my son left to serve a tour of duty with the U.S. Army in Iraq.
It never occurred to me then that I might have to be more worried about my daughter.
My son was going to war. I had stepped on an emotional rolling coaster.
The "ups" on my roller coaster were my daughter's amusing stories about the differences and similarities she was finding in Kenya, like cooking turkey with the feet on so that the red claws flopped about like something out of a Mr. Bean movie. I was always excited to hear about her experiences with the Kenyan schoolgirls.
The "downs" came from the casualty reports I would receive in my e-mail from my son's regiment about losses and injuries and the reminder that while he always sounded well and safe on the phone.
On Dec. 27, all of this changed. My roller coaster went into reverse as the election results in Kenya unfolded. My daughter had left her new home in the southwestern corner of Kenya, close to both Tanzania and Lake Victoria, on Dec. 22 to spend Christmas week with 12 other Peace Corps volunteers in the Kenyan rainforest near the town of Kakamega.
On Dec. 26, after an idyllic Christmas morning atop a mountain to watch the sunrise, the group gathered at a home to spend a few days prior to returning to their sites. It was not to be.
Killing, burning and looting had begun after incumbent Kikuyu President Mwai Kibaki declared himself the election winner in the face of Luo opponent Raila Odinga's consistent lead.
Kibaki had himself sworn in for another presidential term immediately following the announcement of his "victory" and all hell broke loose.
I felt so sad for the people of Kenya, most of who live in poverty and I was greatly saddened for my daughter who left the U.S. with a mission to bring hope through education to a new generation of Kenyans.
Despite my daughter living in a land where she had no running water available, nor any electricity, I was able to speak with her on her satellite, solar powered cell phone - a remarkable thing in a region so poor and desolate.She was not frightened or feeling unsafe. This saved my sanity.
On Jan. 4, after being on "lockdown" in Kakamega, the group was whisked out by two small aircraft from the airstrip there.
As they evacuated Kakamega, they had only the clothes they were wearing and the small bags they had taken on vacation with them.
On Jan. 21, my daughter, along with her peers, sadly returned to the United States. Earlier this month, the Peace Corps suspended its program in Kenya.
I too felt horribly saddened that her journey with the Kenyan people and that of the other Peace Corps volunteers was so suddenly and alarmingly stopped. She was bonding with the Kenyans at her school site and was excitedly awaiting the arrival of her students.
As a parent, looking back I am grateful for the Peace Corps' diligence and caring for their volunteers. They have done their best to ensure the physical and mental health of the volunteers returning to the U.S. I feel great anger that the arrogance and hunger for power of one man in particular should have brought such a beautiful country and people to its knees.
The feeling of hope I had for her community in Kenya somehow gave me hope for my son in Iraq. The knowledge that she was engaged in productive and meaningful work stemmed the pain and worry I have felt for my son.
While no one yet knows what the future holds for Kenya, my daughter will move on with her life and await her next challenge, while always holding the people of Kenya dear to her heart.
Her brother in Iraq remains amazed at this course of events and I am still astounded that his life at this moment seems far more "stable" than hers.
But this could change at any moment.
My roller coaster ride continues.
Madeleine Tavares lives in Ponte Vedra Beach.
