If you are interested...
http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/americas/09/16/bolivia.peace.corps/
Oh, and I sweet talked my way into a free new phone number. Let me know if you need it.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Refugee Status
Mi Amor,
Do you know what you are doing to me? You break up with me. We get back together. You break up again. I take you back. You promise to be good. You promise it will be better. I believe it. I put my heart and soul into it and convince myself that it will work out. Things go great for a few weeks. Life has never been better!
Then you break up with me again. And again. And again. And now it’s for good.
How do I know? I’m sitting in a hotel in Lima, Peru, with a broken heart and broken spirit, picking at food, tossing about instead of sleeping, unable to believe how my life got to this point. I feel like I need to cry but I can’t make sense of any of the feelings I have.
You’re killing me, Bolivia. What do I do now???
With the saddest of goodbyes, and the fondest of memories, I wish you the best of luck.
Tammy
Word came in on Wednesday that Ambassador Goldberg was out. Thursday I get a call in the evening about emergency consolidation and the next morning I am out of Samaipata. I say bye to the few people I can as they are picking up their guns to go protest. Twelve frantic hours in a 4x4 with nine people driving the back roads in order to avoid the tanks, military, and unnecessary confrontations with protestors in the streets, I arrive in Cochabambaba, tired, confused, and sad.
Our sites told us to get out before the Indians kill us. Counterparts called Peace Corps and told them their volunteers were not safe. We watch as friends in our communities respond to the calls to take up arms and we don’t know what we should do. Is it that serious? It must be this time. I usually tell people Peace Corps is consolidating, and they respond with a wave of the hand and a “No pasa nada…” Nothing will happen. This time they respond with tears. Tears for their people, tears for their country, as they process feelings of total bewilderment and despair. After all, where will they go? They have no consolidation point, no evacuation plans.
After my arrival Friday night in Cochabamba, I sleep and wait. The longest hours of life. Waiting, without any idea with what might happen, without explanations. Saturday we move hotels. Sunday we get the message that we are indeed evacuating to a neighboring country. We are not told where. Then we move again. It’s for our safety, they say. Anti-American sentiment is high and no one can know where we are going or that we have even consolidated. We’ve only told our communities that we have to meet up for a minute and that we should be back. Yeah right.
Monday we are scheduled to get out of the country. It is an interminable wait. Half of the volunteers have already been evacuated to Peru. My group is still in Bolivia. No one is allowed to say anything to friends or family for fear that the military cargo plane that had to jump hoops to get clearance for a bunch of Americans to get into Peru will run into problems and that we will have no way out. American airlines has cancelled flights in and out of Bolivia til the end of the month. Private chartered planes have waiting lists of 20+ organizations and hundreds of Americans are waiting for a chance to get out.
During the eight hour wait in the airport for our military jet to get there, we receive more news. We are not going to just wait it out in Peru for things to get better. The decision has already been made that the Bolivia program is suspended. No returning there. Do you now want to close service early and go back to the U.S., or would you like to take another run at it in a different country?
It’s just too much to take in. Our minds are numb. There is a cloud hanging over us that makes for a subdued, depressed atmosphere. Not only did we leave our communities, now we will be leaving each other. That’s just something we can’t process yet, something that I will not allow myself to think about.
We jump on our military aircraft, strap ourselves in, and several bumpy, airsick hours later we arrive in Peru. The back hatch of the plane opens up and five or six men in suits walk towards us to greet us. It’s just like the movies. We walk out, a group of scraggly, tired, sleep-deprived volunteers and shake hands with the Embassy reps, the Peruvian Peace Corps director, and members of the U.S. Air Force who were responsible for our safe evacuation.
Minutes after my group lands on Peruvian soil, the press release goes out letting the world know that Peace Corps has suspended the program. Up til then, no one in Bolivia, minus the people involved in flying clearances, knew that we were on our way out.
I now feel like a refugee in wait. Waiting to see if Bolivia continues to blow up. Waiting to speak to people I care about. Waiting for that inevitable moment when things catch up to me and I fall apart. And waiting, and wondering, of what the future holds. This sucks. It all sucks.
Do you know what you are doing to me? You break up with me. We get back together. You break up again. I take you back. You promise to be good. You promise it will be better. I believe it. I put my heart and soul into it and convince myself that it will work out. Things go great for a few weeks. Life has never been better!
Then you break up with me again. And again. And again. And now it’s for good.
How do I know? I’m sitting in a hotel in Lima, Peru, with a broken heart and broken spirit, picking at food, tossing about instead of sleeping, unable to believe how my life got to this point. I feel like I need to cry but I can’t make sense of any of the feelings I have.
You’re killing me, Bolivia. What do I do now???
With the saddest of goodbyes, and the fondest of memories, I wish you the best of luck.
Tammy
Word came in on Wednesday that Ambassador Goldberg was out. Thursday I get a call in the evening about emergency consolidation and the next morning I am out of Samaipata. I say bye to the few people I can as they are picking up their guns to go protest. Twelve frantic hours in a 4x4 with nine people driving the back roads in order to avoid the tanks, military, and unnecessary confrontations with protestors in the streets, I arrive in Cochabambaba, tired, confused, and sad.
Our sites told us to get out before the Indians kill us. Counterparts called Peace Corps and told them their volunteers were not safe. We watch as friends in our communities respond to the calls to take up arms and we don’t know what we should do. Is it that serious? It must be this time. I usually tell people Peace Corps is consolidating, and they respond with a wave of the hand and a “No pasa nada…” Nothing will happen. This time they respond with tears. Tears for their people, tears for their country, as they process feelings of total bewilderment and despair. After all, where will they go? They have no consolidation point, no evacuation plans.
After my arrival Friday night in Cochabamba, I sleep and wait. The longest hours of life. Waiting, without any idea with what might happen, without explanations. Saturday we move hotels. Sunday we get the message that we are indeed evacuating to a neighboring country. We are not told where. Then we move again. It’s for our safety, they say. Anti-American sentiment is high and no one can know where we are going or that we have even consolidated. We’ve only told our communities that we have to meet up for a minute and that we should be back. Yeah right.
Monday we are scheduled to get out of the country. It is an interminable wait. Half of the volunteers have already been evacuated to Peru. My group is still in Bolivia. No one is allowed to say anything to friends or family for fear that the military cargo plane that had to jump hoops to get clearance for a bunch of Americans to get into Peru will run into problems and that we will have no way out. American airlines has cancelled flights in and out of Bolivia til the end of the month. Private chartered planes have waiting lists of 20+ organizations and hundreds of Americans are waiting for a chance to get out.
During the eight hour wait in the airport for our military jet to get there, we receive more news. We are not going to just wait it out in Peru for things to get better. The decision has already been made that the Bolivia program is suspended. No returning there. Do you now want to close service early and go back to the U.S., or would you like to take another run at it in a different country?
It’s just too much to take in. Our minds are numb. There is a cloud hanging over us that makes for a subdued, depressed atmosphere. Not only did we leave our communities, now we will be leaving each other. That’s just something we can’t process yet, something that I will not allow myself to think about.
We jump on our military aircraft, strap ourselves in, and several bumpy, airsick hours later we arrive in Peru. The back hatch of the plane opens up and five or six men in suits walk towards us to greet us. It’s just like the movies. We walk out, a group of scraggly, tired, sleep-deprived volunteers and shake hands with the Embassy reps, the Peruvian Peace Corps director, and members of the U.S. Air Force who were responsible for our safe evacuation.
Minutes after my group lands on Peruvian soil, the press release goes out letting the world know that Peace Corps has suspended the program. Up til then, no one in Bolivia, minus the people involved in flying clearances, knew that we were on our way out.
I now feel like a refugee in wait. Waiting to see if Bolivia continues to blow up. Waiting to speak to people I care about. Waiting for that inevitable moment when things catch up to me and I fall apart. And waiting, and wondering, of what the future holds. This sucks. It all sucks.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Latest News
To avoid personal bias on the issues, here are some links for you to keep abreast of the news in country.
From the U.S. Department of State- Travel Warnings for Bolivia (with a great summary of the current situation):
http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/tw/tw_bolivia.html
Recent Articles regarding Bolivia:
http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/09/14/news/Bolivia-Protests.php
http://www.forbes.com/reuters/feeds/reuters/2008/09/14/2008-09-14T125035Z_01_N14392717_RTRIDST_0_BOLIVIA-PIX-TV-GRAPHIC.html
From the U.S. Department of State- Travel Warnings for Bolivia (with a great summary of the current situation):
http://travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/tw/tw_bolivia.html
Recent Articles regarding Bolivia:
http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/09/14/news/Bolivia-Protests.php
http://www.forbes.com/reuters/feeds/reuters/2008/09/14/2008-09-14T125035Z_01_N14392717_RTRIDST_0_BOLIVIA-PIX-TV-GRAPHIC.html
Friday, September 12, 2008
This is Not a Test. I Repeat, This is NOT a Test.
How I would love to be my happy-go-lucky self right now. How I would love to feel the way I did a 5 in the afternoon yesterday, right after I taught 10 ladies who MAKE tofu, but don´t know how to COOK tofu, how to turn their slab of compressed soy into deliciousness. You will appreciate the irony if you know that for two years after college I ate out every meal because I didn´t know how to cook. And here I am teaching it.
Right now though, the high feeling is gone. Instead my stomach feels like I may throw up any minute. I have a knot in my throat and I wasn´t able to sleep more than 2 hours last night. The situation in this country is deteriorating. Bolivians are killing other Bolivians. The people have revolted against the government, especially in the area where I live. Grandpas who sit in the plaza are now taking up arms and helping to ransack government offices and government controlled businesses. The U.S. ambassador was kicked out of Bolivia this week, and in return the Bolivian ambassador was kicked out of the U.S. as well.
News headlines read ¨The Nightmare has Begun¨ and ¨Bolivia- A Country in Mourning.¨ People are losing body parts to dynamite. Gas pipelines are being blown. Blockades are up in every other community. Even Samaipata a community known for never taking part has joined. Who knows how much worse this will get and where it will end. Chavez, leader of Venezuela and mentor to President Evo, said that he plans to make Bolivia into Vietnam #2 and that he and his people are ready to die for it.
It's gotten horribly ugly and at 5:30 yesterday I got the call from Peace Corps that they are again consolidating volunteers. Evacuation is the next step if necessary. However, like my dad says, there really is no reason to worry about me. The US government has to have a plan. What I ask, however, is that you keep the Bolivian people- my friends, my co-workers, my adopted family- in your thoughts and prayers. They are the ones who need it.
I will post periodically with updates. Let's hope for the best.
Right now though, the high feeling is gone. Instead my stomach feels like I may throw up any minute. I have a knot in my throat and I wasn´t able to sleep more than 2 hours last night. The situation in this country is deteriorating. Bolivians are killing other Bolivians. The people have revolted against the government, especially in the area where I live. Grandpas who sit in the plaza are now taking up arms and helping to ransack government offices and government controlled businesses. The U.S. ambassador was kicked out of Bolivia this week, and in return the Bolivian ambassador was kicked out of the U.S. as well.
News headlines read ¨The Nightmare has Begun¨ and ¨Bolivia- A Country in Mourning.¨ People are losing body parts to dynamite. Gas pipelines are being blown. Blockades are up in every other community. Even Samaipata a community known for never taking part has joined. Who knows how much worse this will get and where it will end. Chavez, leader of Venezuela and mentor to President Evo, said that he plans to make Bolivia into Vietnam #2 and that he and his people are ready to die for it.
It's gotten horribly ugly and at 5:30 yesterday I got the call from Peace Corps that they are again consolidating volunteers. Evacuation is the next step if necessary. However, like my dad says, there really is no reason to worry about me. The US government has to have a plan. What I ask, however, is that you keep the Bolivian people- my friends, my co-workers, my adopted family- in your thoughts and prayers. They are the ones who need it.
I will post periodically with updates. Let's hope for the best.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Paros y Bloqueos. Strikes and Blockades.
What you’ve missed, and what I’ve lived:
Aug 8, 2008- I am at a resort with TV in my cabin. Talk about luxury. Olympics start, I catch a few minutes of the opening ceremony then wait up several nights in a row til four in the morning hoping to catch some sort of coverage but to no avail.
Aug 11, 2008- It is announced that Evo is to continue as president, winning 60% of the vote. People get angry.
Aug 12, 2008- Peace Corps releases volunteers from confinement and I am on my way to Trinidad, Bolivia, to meet my brother who has ridden a motorcycle from the U.S. to visit me.
Aug 13, 2008- People are still angry.
Aug 14, 2008- I cruise down the Amazon rivers with four volunteers on
a sweet little boat that takes us away from civilization. I swim with river dolphins, look for monkeys and crocodiles, fish for piranhas, and eat turtle eggs as I wait for my brother to show up. Just as I give up hope, when the sky is dark and the search for a cell phone signal comes up empty, the sound of a motor puttering though the darkness emerges. I get so excited I howl at the full moon, run full speed towards the river without seeing the two horizontal wires attached to posts as a makeshift fence, and successfully knock all the air out of my lungs as I fall backwards. My brother makes it in one piece (the same cannot be said about his motorcycle) and he is greeted by a well choreographed Macarena dance, Peace Corps style.
Aug 17, 2008- I finish my cruise and and re-enter the city only to find that people are not done being angry.
Aug 18, 2008- Strikes. Blockades. No transportation. I get stuck in Trinidad indefinitely. The whole town shuts down. Only thing to eat are the snow cones a girl is selling on the street. I eat two.
Aug 19, 2008- People. Angry. I am stuck. Dirty hostels. Tammy. A little angry.
Aug 20, 2008- Reruns of female gymnastics beam final. I watch it four times. Tammy, now not so angry.
Aug 21, 2008- I eat friend alligator at a delicious Mexican restaurant where my friends and I have eaten every night we have been in the city. We finally get to take an overnight bus back to Santa Cruz.
Aug 22, 2008- I belatedly remember my one year anniversary in country. Those who are in the city go out with me and celebrate in style.
Aug 23, 2008- I finally get back to site. My brother gets to spend three hours with me in Samaipata, enough time to go to the bathroom, eat lunch, go to the bathroom, and get back in the taxi.
Aug 24-28, 2008- I spend five days in site setting up meetings for
my various projects. Find out the mayor has changed, and so has my counterpart in the mayor’s office. I am now on my third one in a year.
Timmy, my beloved landlord’s dog, follows me to the highway and is hit by a truck and dies.
Aug 28, 2008- I head out for rodeo, one of
the biggest and most traditional events in Bolivia volunteer life. However, the angry Bolivians do not rest. I get as far as Santa Cruz, two and a half hours away. Blockades close the roads and prevents travel, putting to waste the weeks of careful planning that has taken place to get the highly coveted Argentine steak into the mouths of beef-deprived volunteers.
Sept 2, 2008- I get an adorable new Boxer-Staffordshire bull terrier mix puppy whose name Liula (pronounced Lula) was inspired by my best friend Jing Liu.
Sept 3, 2008- I learn that to be a successful Peace Corps volunteer in my site, I really should have studied interior design rather than business. I am put in charge of decorating a newly built hostel in Bella Vista and the redecorating of the shop from my women’s group. Not to worry though. What I lack in artistic creativity, I make up in resourcefulness. So I go about doing what I do best: I network, and I outsource. Done and done.
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