10 Months Later: The Story of PC Guinea's Evacuation

This post has been a loooooong time coming.

Most of the readers here probably already know that at the end of July 2014, Peace Corps was evacuated from Guinea due to the Ebola outbreak.

It has been 10  months since I left Guinea. I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to come back to this blog and tell the story of the evacuation. I think, maybe, subconsciously, I wasn't ready to admit that this is how my service ended. Though I was only a month and a half from finishing 3 years of service, I still wasn't ready to leave.

Evacuation, I think, is something that is always on a PCV's mind. No matter in what country you're serving, there always seems to be some possibility that there could be an evacuation. Though it may be on our minds, there is no way that anyone could ever be prepared for it. There were many times in Guinea where I was sure that we would be evacuated - the first being an attempted coup and attempted assassination of the Guinean president only a few weeks after arriving in Guinea. Then there were months of political instability surrounding Guinea's legislative elections, then the US Government shut down, then an Ebola epidemic was discovered. There were countless times when I prepared myself for the worst. But of course, the one time we were actually evacuated, I wasn't suspecting it at all.

I think about it a lot. From the moment that I received notification of our evacuation, up until I arrived home, my memory is crystal clear. It was such an emotional experience (both in good and bad ways)  that I think it will be forever etched into my memory.

The last post I wrote on this blog was actually posted just hours before we were informed of our evacuation. I couldn't believe that I had just updated the world about how happy I was to be back at site and how everything was fine...only hours later to be told that my life would be utterly uprooted immediately.

In any case, the time has come to tell my story. For all those PCVs who have ever been evacuated from your post or have had to leave unexpectedly, wontanara. We are together.

So here is my story.

I had no idea that there was even a possibility that we would be evacuated when I left for the nearby town of Kamsar to upload my blog about traveling in Senegal. I had arrived back from Senegal just a few days earlier and had just celebrated the Fete de Ramadan with my host family.

Members of my host family all dressed of for the Fete de Ramadan

Visiting with community members after the Fete de Ramadan ceremony. I taught this woman how to write her name and she never let me forget it. Every time I saw her, she would say, "Remember me? Mariama Diallo. You taught me how to write my name."

My host mom, Aissatou

At Salikene, the big palm field where the community prayer is held for the Fete de Ramadan

When I arrived home from the internet cafe in late afternoon, I made myself a delicious tomato sandwich on a fresh baguette that I picked up at the market on my way home. I was in the middle of my sandwich when my phone buzzed softly informing me that I had received a text message.

I didn't understand the message. Cryptic with acronyms (the usual for Peace Corps), it said something about someone being evacuated immediately. I could instantly feel my blood pressure and heart rate increase, my muscles tense...as I tried to pretend that I didn't understand the text. I immediately called another volunteer to see if she had seen the text. While I called, she was looking at the text and was as surprised, confused and scared as I was. It was clear no one understood what was going on. So I called a PC staff member to get more information.

Our worst fears were true. All of Peace Corps Guinea was evacuating. The Ebola outbreak had "gotten out of hand" in west Africa; Peace Corps Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia were all being evacuated immediately.

There were no details yet of how or when we would be evacuated; we only knew it was "immediate." I was told to be ready for the possibility that a car would come to pick me up the next morning.

The first thing I did was say, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god" over and over again. Many members of my host family were hanging out outside and they saw me panicking. After explaining the situation to them, they started to panic too.

I called my parents and asked if they would be free to pick me up from O'hare in the next few days. They were just as shocked and surprised as I was. I briefly explained what little I knew and then hung up to maximize time with people and place I've called home for the past 3 years.

Since I had no idea when we were being evacuated, my first plan of action was to immediately go to the carrefour (the crossroads of the two paved roads in town, essentially the "downtown" of my village) and say goodbye to everyone I saw. Literally, as I walked past people and people's homes and boutiques I said goodbye. I said goodbye to my bread lady, my keke lady, my rice and sauce lady, my fried plantain lady and my onion lady. I said goodbye to the phone credit guy, the taxi chauffeurs, the battery guy and the vache qui rit guy.

Saying goodbye to everyone at the gare (taxi station) at the carrefour

Strong winds as the skies were about to open up

One last look down the dirt road on the way to my school

Stopped by to visit my neighbors

I sent a mass text message to all the students, teachers and soccer players whose numbers I had. I found many students and friends at the carrefour and I told them I was unexpectedly leaving soon and that they needed to spread the word so that I could say goodbye.

This is a picture from the last day of school in May 2015 with some of my high school students

 I continued on to the school, passing teachers and students on the way. I made it to my principal's house where I explained what little I knew. By then it was getting dark out and I had to head home. At this point, I knew only that a car would either come the next morning or the following morning. I prepared for the worst.

The whole night I stayed up packing up my belongings. Tearing down tens of photos and tapestries stuck to my walls, collecting the hundreds of photos and letters sent to me over the years, and organizing my school documents to return to the school. As I cleaned out my house, I set out all of the items I didn't want to bring home and let my host family have whatever they wanted: clothes, shoes, art supplies, soccer balls, frisbees, toiletries, etc...I stayed up throughout the night clearing things out and deciding what to take home. Even late into the night/early into the morning, I was texting with other PCVs; it was clear no one was sleeping.

Early the next morning, many students and friends had already started to stop by to see me. Word had spread that Madame Liz was leaving.

Students came in groups to come visit on my last day - these are some of the girls from my soccer team

Two of my first and favorite students, now both in college studying chemistry

Another two of my best high school students

My amazing neighbor who looked after everyone in the neighborhood, including me

A slightly older picture from a parade that the students organized in honor of me for the last day of school in May

By this point, Peace Corps had communicated with me that a car would be coming not tomorrow, but the following morning to pick me up. I don't think I have ever been more thankful for anything than this extra 24 hours that I was given to be able to close 3 years of service and friendship. I would be among the last few volunteers to be picked up from site. Other PCVs were not as lucky, and had already started to get picked up that morning. This wasn't a typical evacuation, though. Peace Corps said that this was a temporary evacuation and that after the Ebola situation calmed down, Peace Corps would return. However, being only a month and a half away from COS, I knew that myself and handful of other PCVs were permanently leaving.

One last shot of my front yard and all of its mango tree glory

I spent the day partly inside my house cleaning it out and packing my suitcase, and partly outside meeting and taking pictures with students, teachers, neighbors and friends. A lot of the neighborhood kids were loitering outside my house waiting for me to toss some sort of treasure out. There were not treasures, but I did set aside some special gifts for people that had been really important - a nice calculator for one of my best students, soccer jerseys for my soccer girls and some nice books for some of my favorite students. In between bouts of rain and hordes of students, I took my camera and walked through the neighborhood to capture the final images of this place.

Looking east towards Boke from the railroad tracks near my house

A neighbor's hut 

The path from the carrefour towards my house

I also hung out with my homonyme, Adama Elizabeth Keita - the 2 month old baby named after me (well she's over a year old now!). 

7 days after Adama Elizabeth was born - the day of her baptism and naming ceremony (with her mom next to me)

Getting in some last minute love from my homonyme before leaving Guinea

My last day at site flew by. Before I knew it, it was already night. I ate one last meal with my host family. Nothing special, just the usual rice and watery soupe sauce with bits of fish bones. It was great. 

Two of my closest teacher colleagues called me to tell me they were on their way to my house. It was already around 8 or 9 pm. They didn't want me to go to bed before they had a chance to come and say goodbye. When they finally showed up at my doorstep in the pitch-black night, they had brought a beautifully framed certificate of service for me. Apparently they had spent all day in Kamsar trying to make this certificate on short notice for me. I couldn't believe it. 

Another sleepless night. I prepared my water filter, bike and other Peace Corps materials to be returned. I had to label some books and other materials which I hoped Peace Corps would be able to sort through and figure out where everything needed to go.

Very early in the morning I got up and sat on the front porch with some other family members who were out. My suitcase was packed and ready. I knew the Peace Corps Land Cruiser would roll up any minute, just the way it rolled up three years ago to leave me in this place which, at the time, seemed so foreign and intimidating.

The Peace Corps Land Cruiser dropping me off at site in 2011

I got to hold my homonyme for a few last moments. My principal showed up a few minutes before 8:00 in order to see me off. And then, across the soccer field, I saw that iconic white Land Cruiser barreling down the rocky dirt path, already with suitcases strung on top. The car was already partly filled up with a few other Peace Corps Volunteers from the region.

I gave my homonyme a big hug and kiss goodbye and went in to get my suitcase. I handed the house keys to my oldest host brother and family caretaker. It was all very fast. I hugged my host sisters and host mom goodbye, my principal gave me a left hand shake (symbolic gesture wishing someone good luck, bon voyage and see you later), and before I knew it I was in the car and my suitcase was tied down on top.

I waved goodbye to my life out the back window.

I was greatly comforted by the presence of the other PCVs (and PC staff), as they had just gone through exactly the same thing. In fact, I was really happy to be with them. There is no one on the planet who I would have rather been surrounded by than the people who have become good friends and even family.

As we continued towards the capital, we picked up two more volunteers at their sites and I was witness to the same situation I had just faced. This was an experience that deeply connected all of us.

In the car, we all retold our last day at site, or what we did when we found out about the evacuation. I heard a story of one volunteer in a different region who hadn't received the text message about the evacuation and only found out the next day when she called another PCV about going on a bike ride - only to find out from the other PCV that they were being evacuated and that Peace Corps was already on their way to pick her up in a few hours.

I've read enough Peace Corps blogs to know some of the things that happen during a PC evacuation. One of the things that people always say is that it's a huge bonding experience because it's the only time PCVs from the entire region (or country) are all in the same spot at the same time. Well, they were right.

 For the first time, all PCVs from the Basse-Cote region come together, including Samba, Tamba's dog

We spent a day or day and a half in Conakry, taking care of business (medical records, Close of Service papers, etc...), evacuation details, debriefing, directions about monitoring our temperature and looking out for signs of Ebola, crying, laughing, freaking out, dancing, eating all of the food from care packages that had just arrived, last minute language aptitude tests to see how our local language skills had improved, and going on shopping sprees in the market after emptying our Guinean bank accounts.

Our flights were at different times, and the first group left late on our first night in Conakry. The Peace Corps bus came to gather the group of volunteers going to the airport together. The rest of us all followed outside to give hugs goodbye. We cried, sang and chanted as they boarded the bus. For one last bit of Basse-Cote region pride, we all chanted, "Basse-Cote, Basse-Cote" as we ran after the bus as it drove away in the night with our compatriots. The last time we would ever all be together.

The next evening was our turn.

I guess this is what evacuating PCVs look like outside the airport

The two official RPCVs of the group that was flying out - Geoff and me

Sad PCVs

I believe this is the last picture of me in Guinea (at the airport)

First Peace Corps reunion as an RPCV - Paris airport at 5am

Slowly our group got smaller and smaller. Only the four of us were in the same terminal in Paris. We had coffee and existential breakdowns 

And then there were two. Abe and I ran through the New York airport together trying to catch our connecting flights. 

After all of this, I was in such a daze that I almost missed the last leg of my flight home. I had to duck under a rope and run across the tarmac and up the stairs to the plane as the stewardess closed the door behind me. I got to my seat....and it kind of all hit me at once, that I was alone and that my Peace Corps experience was over. I probably would have started crying on the plane, but a nice man next to me struck up a conversation and it turned out he was French and so I asked if I could speak French with him to make myself feel like I was still in Guinea. We had a great time laughing at my Guinean French accent. 

Finally we landed. I came down the escalator in the O'Hare airport to my family waiting for me, including my new niece Lola who I hadn't seen in a year. I was so happy, so sad, and so tired. 

I momentarily stopped crying so that I could take this picture with my mom

As I'm writing this blog...I feel very emotional. Not just about the evacuation, but about leaving Guinea. I think me not wanting to write this post was because I feared that if I wrote this, it would signify the end. Guinea is such a beautiful place, with such beautiful people and beautiful cultures and my experience there was life changing in so many ways. 

Of course, though, it's not the end. I know that I will be back there someday soon. Not to mention this, which happened two and half months after I got home:

October, 18, 2014

So stay tuned for my next blog which will tell the story of how Abou and I met in Guinea (and secretly dated for two and half years) and the incredible struggles we went through so that he could come to the US. My adventures in Guinea may have ended for the moment, but my adventures with Guineans (well, just one) have only just begun,