And the Wait Continues...

It's been about eight hours since volunteers from the northern districts of Botha-Bothe and Leribe gathered in the camptown of Hlotse for a mandatory, Peace Corps ordered consolidation of volunteers. Tensions are running high amongst the group of 20+ volunteers here. We're all at varying stages of processing the possibility of evacuation, but most of us seem to have thoroughly settled on denial. We've enjoyed hot showers, a buffet lunch, and wireless internet... And many of us have spent the afternoon sitting around with a beer, soaking up the warmth of early spring while marking exams or catching up on emails paperwork. Trying to continue with our lives and work as normal, even when the situation is anything but. Evacuation still seems a remote threat, and with little to no information about the security threat or situation in Maseru, we're all choosing to believe that we'll be back in our own beds by tomorrow night... Back in front of our classes by Thursday morning.

Yet the rainbow of emotions that have accompanied the looming threat of evacuation could not possibly be adequately described. For my own part, I think I'm oscillating between disbelief, fear, guilt, and anger. It's a complex thing, processing what might come next... In part because I don't feel imminently in danger. 

Over the past two years, I have made this country my home. And in a sense the threat of evacuation hits at a major insecurity... This is not MY country or home. And that's an uncomfortable thing to admit. I have tried so desperately to belong here, and in a sense, I do. With a single order, however, Peace Corps can sever that relationship. With a single phone call, they remind me that I don't belong here. I am not Basotho; I never was. The order to leave says to me, my friends, and family that I am not truly a part of the Ha Selomo community. I claimed to stay with them through every season, challenge, and heartache... I attended funerals, went to the fields to work, endured the never ending taxi lines, and waited for water at the pump just like everyone else. I stayed late after school struggling through maths with their kids, and invested myself again and again and again... I was a good volunteer. I took my Oath seriously. I meant my promise and lived it everyday for the past two years. And yet, when the situation gets tough, I leave. I run.  I escape to the safety of my OWN country, where the military doesn't take over the civil police force and exile the Prime Minister. The guilt is overwhelming. The possibility of leaving my kids to 'tough out whatever comes next' feels like an abandonment. It makes me feel like my Peace Corps Oath of Service came with an exemption clause. Like saying "for better or worse" when what I really meant was "for better or until my safety is in jeopardy". And even more frustrating, I have to trust when Peace Corps says that my safety is in jeopardy, because I don't  feel unsafe. 

And then there's the anger... When I think about the army commander who made the decision to start this alleged coup, or the politicians who plotted behind closed doors for just a little more power, wealth and prestige, it make me furious. What gives them the right to choose themselves over so many thousands of people? At this moment, all across Lesotho, more than 60 well trained and willing teachers sit in hotels doing NOTHING. Meanwhile, back in our communities, thousands of Basotho children don't have English, Math, and Science teachers today. Why? I wish I had an answer. It seems a pointless waste of potential, when so much was sacrificed to bring us here and make us into the teachers these children deserve. 

The waiting is difficult... And I'm praying that maybe this experience will just heighten my appreciation for my community and relationships in Lesotho. It has certainly made me think about what the people in my life here have meant to me, and how devastated I would be to leave them. I long for closure... And there's certainly none to be found if we are forced to leave Lesotho in the next few days. 

So we'll continue perfecting that well-honed Peace Corps patience, and pray it doesn't come to that. 

With Love from Lesotho... Mary E.