Limbo
Six weeks ago I left Nicaragua in order to return home and seek medical treatment with complete confidence and determination to return in less than forty-five days so that I could finish off what I had started one year and 6 months ago.
Our Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) in country and the Peace Corps (PC) Nurse from headquarters assigned to my case were confident that going home for a few days to seek treatment would allow me to return with more strength to work on my projects and have a fulfilling service. The decision to go home was not easy. After a year in country, I was finally beginning to feel like I understood Nicaragua, like I understood my job, like I understood what I needed to do, and like I finally felt comfortable with the impacts I was having on my community and those I interacted with the most. I had raised and received enough funds to not only educate 6 families on the benefits of improved-stoves, but to build the stoves alongside the families and positively impact their health and economic situation, plus alleviate some of the deforestation happening in my community. Another one of my counterparts and I had planned and received permission to design and paint a girls’ empowerment mural on our local elementary and high school building.
I had promised our beneficiary families to deliver on my end of supplying the building materials for our stoves and ovens. I had promised young women that we would paint a powerful mural that would inspire women for years to come. I had promised my counterparts that I would stick around and work with them to make the positive impact they believed our community needed. I had promised Pua (my dog) that I would be back in 45 days.
All of that came to an abrupt halt. On Monday, 9 April, a PCMO asked me to come into the PC office the next day to meet with both medical staff and our safety and security staff. On Tuesday, 10 April I woke up at 5 in the morning to get ready to make the 4.5 hour commute to the capital. I packed only pajamas and a change of clothing, knowing I wouldn’t be able to return home that same day due to the lack of buses.
By Wednesday, 11 April, I found myself with puffy red eyes. Uncertain about what my life would look like in two days, not knowing if I would be sent home or be left to deal with my situation on my own. Everything was on my mind— the commitments I had made with my friends in town, commitments I had made with other volunteers, and the reality of what had happened to me. I was nauseous, I could not sleep, and my entire body felt like it was being pricked with needles from anxiety.
On Thursday, 12 April, the nurse in Washington DC that had been assigned to my case gave me a call to discuss my situation. After a few questions, it was decided that I would return to my home of record to seek treatment. And though I initially did not want to return home, talking with the nurse and our PCMO convinced me that going home was the right decision. I felt instant relief when the nurse cleared me for a medical evacuation. I knew my departure was coming at the worst possible timing, but I also knew that getting treatment would mean I could return fully prepared to finish off strong. What good would it have been for me to stay if I didn’t feel safe leaving or returning to my community? How could I serve Nicaragua if I couldn’t even help myself?
With the support of PC staff and my PC friend volunteers, I returned to my community accompanied by a Safety and Security staff member on Friday, 13 April. He drove me from Managua back to my rural town outside of Esteli. I packed the majority of the Mexican candy I’d brought back from my December vacation in Mexico(because priorities, that’s why), a pair of jeans, a few shirts, and my favorite shoes. I hugged my dog goodbye, reminding her I’d only be gone for 45 days. I promised I’d be back before she knew it with lots of new toys and treats. I reassured my host mom that I would be back. I promised her that she hadn’t done anything wrong, and that my reason for leaving didn’t have anything to do with her, our home, or her family. I said goodbye to my two host sisters and my best friend in town, my 5 year-old front door neighbor.
When I left on Saturday, 14 April, for my 16-hour journey back home I never would have imagined that 4 days later a series of violent protests would suddenly erupt throughout Nicaragua. The protests began small but in the following days they seemed to become more unpredictable and violent. Peace Corps Nicaragua put volunteers on stand-fast, then consolidated them, sent them to Costa Rica, and eventually sent them all to their homes in the USA in the course of one week.
So here we are. It’s been six weeks since I was in Nicaragua. I have been officially “medically cleared” to return to Nicaragua, but due to the current situation I am now on “administrative hold” along with the 160+ volunteers that were evacuated from the land of lakes and volcanoes.
None of us thought this would happen. None of us wanted this to happen. None of us thought our country would be evacuated. None of us planned for being home.
Since the initial countrywide evacuation, the State Department has decided to extend the evacuation of volunteers and embassy workers’ families another 30 days. This means we will not be returning to Nicaragua until June 25th, if the situation improves. If not, certain volunteers may have their evacuation extended but it is unclear if my group (Nica 68) that was set to COS in July and finish our service in November will be allowed to return. If the evacuation date were to be extended again, there is a high possibility that Nica 68 will not be returning as volunteers. Just like that, abruptly and without a say, our service could come to an end.
From now until June 25th my life will be in limbo. I mean, it’s been in limbo—no one knew if I would get better enough to be “medically cleared,” but I knew that anguish would only last 45 days (meaning that in 45 days I’d be given the green light to return, or be told I was done). With the evacuation, my state of limbo was extended by a couple of days. But now it’s been extended by another month. We all have to wait another 30 days. I can’t begin to plan for my return to Nicaragua with Peace Corps because the situation in Nicaragua seems unpredictable. I can’t begin to fully settle into my life in the states because I could be uprooted again.
In the meantime, I sit at home discussing the news updates with my fellow Environment 68 group via Facebook chat, messaging my Nicaraguan friends asking them about their safety and opinions on the future of their country, updating my host family on my life and asking about their safety, and being overwhelmed with what I’m suppose to do with the next four months of my life if my service is cut short.
And I know this is all utterly ridiculous because people are actually dying. People are fighting for their rights. And here I am, worrying about my life because the next 5 months of my life have been disrupted and my dog is expecting me back any day now.
The people of Nicaragua, my dear friends and family and colleagues all deserve a safe place to live and express their ideas. They need to do what is best for their country, and though I worry for them, I know that they are capable of solving any issues facing their country.
As always, Rani said it best and I am simply freely modifying:
"Peace Corps Nicaragua has done a fantastic job of coordinating the abrupt departure of 160+ volunteers (and my medical departure). The suddenness though has made our privilege as U.S. citizens that much starker. I carry with me the weight of knowing not everyone can so easily leave areas of conflict in this world. If nothing else, this experience has reinforced the urgency to open our hearts and homes to refugees, who have left countries just as beautiful and beloved as Nicaragua behind."
Educate yourself on the current situation in Nicaragua: