Leaving Camp

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I’ve lost my job.

Let that sink in for you – it still hasn’t for me. I was woken at midnight, told to pack emergency items and that first thing in the morning, I would be leaving the camp for a short time. I did so, and being my minimalist self, I packed only 2 outfits, necessary documents, my iPod and computer.

The last photo I took in the camp - our staff creating a fence for our seed production garden

That day I did not leave first thing in the morning. The day was spent half working as usual in the busy office, signing papers, writing my report, talking to staff. Half on the phone with people who didn’t quite seem to have it together, trying to arrange for me to either leave, or deeming it safe enough to stay.

Finally at 2:30 in the afternoon, I grabbed my pack and entered a private taxi. We left the compound gates, leaving behind our police escort. They were hanging out chewing khat right outside the compound gates, waiting for us. But no one had told our taxi driver to wait for them. I tapped his shoulders and told him to wait, giving the police a moment to scramble and catch up to us. One in front, one in back – we drove the 2 hours to the city.

There was some laughter and jokes – the whole thing was really silly and overdone. I was so safe in the camp, and had been for 5 months. What was all of this sudden ruckus? And honestly, if I were in danger on the road, we were screwed. Who else drives with armed policemen in front and back of you? Is this not a bright red target saying, “The foreigner is right here!”

We arrived in the city with no problem, and I giggled about getting a last minute vacation, which I planned to take advantage of before heading back to camp. A security advisor arrived almost immediately and burst my bubble. “Hi, nice to meet you. You must be the girl who kept me up all night.” And so ensued a nice little lecture about how I was no longer safe in the camp, and could not stay there. I was in such shock from his words, that I decided he must be a bit of a drama queen, overplaying the whole deal. I tried keeping his words out of my mind and kept on track that I was on vacation for a week or so. Admittedly with the 18 hours of drama behind me and what he had said, I was shaken and became a bit paranoid for a few days.

I wore the abaya and niqab whenever outside alone, or at night. I was told to mostly stay at home unless with people I knew and to text my boss whenever I left and returned home. I was being babysat and didn’t care for it, but figured it was for my best interest, so fine.

Probably overkill but I felt invisible and therefore very safe with all the uncertainty flying around

There was some other minor drama, where the embassy tried to order me home through email, and offered to help arrange it as quickly as possible. They don’t like the liability or the headache – understandable, but not appreciated. “You don’t know me, don’t try to take me home” I think that’s a lesson I learned from R & B song lyrics in 7^th grade.

Finally an irritated embassy contacted the state department in DC, who contacted my org’s HQ and pressured them to make me leave. So it was decided, at a level far above my head that I should no longer be here. Not for any intense specific threat towards me personally, but because a certain group in Yemen would like to kidnap Americans and that group learned there is one living in the camp. Although I’ve been stubbornly unhappy about this whole deal, maybe everyone is right. If they know, it is a danger for me to live in the camp. Okay. Heartbreaking; but fine. I can handle it I think, give me a couple days. But leave Yemen? They don’t know me personally, they have no idea where I am. In the cities, I am just another foreigner, at risk as much as any other foreigner is. So if I need to go home, make all of them leave with me. Not possible? Okay, then leave me be.

What to do now? There are some positions here or there that I’ve been offered to move into. Really, I am grateful for my org for offering me another job, and even grateful to all the different security groups involved for looking out for my safety. Just sayin… it’s like pulling a woman out of her violent home life when she herself hasn’t made the choice to leave. It’s probably going to save her in the long run to make her leave, but she isn’t going to be happy about it because it wasn’t her choice – she wasn’t ready.

I would like to stay in Yemen and take one of these jobs, but also am looking at jobs in Lebanon, Jordan and South Sudan. We’ll see what happens in the next month.

On a lighter note, I like to find humor in everything. Here are the jokes that have come from this:

“I’m ready to go. I have my kidnapping clothes on [abaya] and my kidnapping toolkit [books and snacks].”

“I don’t appreciate how this went down. I’d like to lodge a complaint with Al Qaeda’s manager about this whole situation.”

And from all this, ideas for Yemeni Hallmark cards, all credit must go to a dear friend here, not myself:

Sorry for shooting you, hope you get better soon….. Sincerely, your ____[family member name here]_______

(Yemenis have a lot of guns and seem to use them a lot, even in family disputes)

Congratulations on the breakthrough!

(AQ once dug a tunnel to a police station and freed some of their men)

Let’s keep it in the family

(Some Yemenis fond of marrying their cousins)