"So, in brief, we hurt. We hurt in the reality that we’ve taken so much from this wonderful community without having a real chance to give back that much. We hurt in the sudden loss of friendships—and people we care about to whom we didn’t even get a chance to quickly wave goodbye. We hurt that we will not be able to repay the generosity and kindness from our friends and the community after gaining trust from people who were hesitant to trust us for a variety of good reasons. We also hurt in the realization that our lives had started taking on a routine of balance—that we had started learning the Bolivian ways of friends and family first, of courtesy, of living in the moment, and, ironically, of reducing our expectations of what might happen from one moment to the next."
Peace Corps Volunteers John and Sarah writes: Evacuación
Evacuación
Caption: A view from the Peace Corps office in Cochabomba.
We got the call at 4pm: pack a few things—at the very least your passport—and do whatever you can to get to Sucre by this evening. Under most circumstances, this would be a wildly audacious set of instructions, since Sucre was 7 hours away. Yet this is what we’ve feared over the delicate past few months and so in some way, as our bodies were hurriedly putting items in backpacks, it didn’t seem so outrageous.
All told, we would get 40 minutes to pack up and run around town to secure a rare taxi ride to another regional center an hour away where buses ran to Sucre (ours had just left, precisely at 4pm). We wondered: how many people who have ran over the scenario in their heads of “what would you throw in a bag if that twister or flood or fire was coming” actually got it right? And what exactly does one bring if the limit is a single backpack in a handful of minutes?
Well, in some ways, it doesn’t matter—sitting here in Lima, Peru, the last things we’re concerned with are the laundry hanging still on the line, the rising bread left on top of the oven, or the one pair of pants John grabbed to wear this past week… the rotting tomatoes on the counter, a bucket of worms waiting to transfer to new bedding sitting on the back patio, and unwatched episodes of Gray´s Anatomy (a new and strange addiction) sitting in a box next to the couch.
Instead, we fixate on the people we may never see, the work that was only begun, the talented Peace Corps staff that no longer have jobs, the beauty in each morning as we started the day unaware of exactly how much we’d miss those things we once took for granted. The Bolivia program has been suspended and we and the other 111 volunteers were flown out on C-130 military transport planes to neighboring Peru.
For those who may have missed a few blog entries or who may not know exactly where to locate Bolivia on a map, a question that may come up is, simply, why? This CNN article is a good primer on the events that have unfolded, but to summarize, it’s likely a messy combination of an unstable political situation, presidential desperation and scapegoating, the tossing of our US ambassador to Bolivia, 30 dead protesters in one region of Bolivia, violent protests and sieges in other major cities, martial law in at least one area, and Hugo Chavez’s antics. Ten presidents from South American countries met today to discuss the Bolivian crisis, rigidly divided governors (or at least the ones who haven’t been recently arrested by the president!) just met with President Evo Morales, and we’re wondering how much concern to place in the editorials that warn about Russia’s joint military exercises with Venezuela and the potential revival of the cold war.
It’s hard to imagine how it may have been avoided given this perfect storm of events. And it’s really hard to imagine what steps we’ll take over the days and weeks to come. Of course there’s the reams of paperwork and processes to engage in to terminate our work in Bolivia. We’ll know more tomorrow, but what we know right now about our options: we could call it quits right now and head back to the good ol’ USA to work for Lehman Brothers or AIG, start service in another country soon (?) or make our ways back into a fragile Bolivia to tie up some loose ends and try our hand at living in our site without having to call headquarters every few days. Sounds simple enough to decide, but there’s lots on our minds.
After the last consolidation at the posh resort, our general enthusiasm and mental health took a dive—the magic of our town had worn off a little, we had some difficulties in the work world and between each other. But, remarkably and unexpectedly, a month or so later, we started making some pretty serious progress. We both started radio shows 3 days a week each as a way to reach communities in topics of beekeeping, ecology, and natural resource management. Sarah got a great project signed, stamped and ready to reach 4 communities with beekeeping training and—moreover—seemed to galvanize solid support and involvement with a few of our counterparts in the mayor’s office. John started actually implementing the school nutrition/chicken project with surrounding communities. We began another round of English classes, building on what we had done before—the kids now learning their ABCs and we still have worksheets to hand back. We both finally started learning the charango, taking classes several times a week at our local school of fine arts. And we also made some new friends, had some fun meals with folks, and got ourselves ready for serious week+ long festivals that our town will start celebrating as soon as this weekend.
So, in brief, we hurt. We hurt in the reality that we’ve taken so much from this wonderful community without having a real chance to give back that much. We hurt in the sudden loss of friendships—and people we care about to whom we didn’t even get a chance to quickly wave goodbye. We hurt that we will not be able to repay the generosity and kindness from our friends and the community after gaining trust from people who were hesitant to trust us for a variety of good reasons. We also hurt in the realization that our lives had started taking on a routine of balance—that we had started learning the Bolivian ways of friends and family first, of courtesy, of living in the moment, and, ironically, of reducing our expectations of what might happen from one moment to the next.
It’s a lot to process, and we’ve got a long way to go yet. But we thought we’d share some of what’s happening now for those who have already heard about the evacuation on NPR or CNN.
