April 4, 2014 Today was one of the hardest days in country, and in my life. Probably makes one of the top ten. I had to leave Mayo-Darlé because of rumors of terrorist activity. I never felt in danger and never wanted to leave MD. There are so many people in MD who thought it was a joke when I told them; they laughed when I explained the situation. After two weeks away, waiting to know if I could go back or not, the people understood it was not a joke. My whole cluster got evacuated; there were six of us. We got driven back to our villages by Peace Corps and got three nights in our homes to pack our houses and say goodbye to everyone. Simply explaining the situation to everyone would take more than a week. Having to pack up an entire house AND telling my closest friends in three days seemed impossibly overwhelming. (I don’t know how another volunteer did it with only 24 hours.) I have never been forced out of my house or town against my will. It is a bizarre feeling, and that was only after four months. Can you imagine living in a place for years and having to leave? I sure can’t. Also, what kind of image is Peace Corps promoting when there is one little rumor and they take the volunteers out of the village? We are supposed to be so integrated and trusted members of a community but when there is something that is a possible threat they take us out of the village and leave the community members behind without a thought. They don’t ask the volunteers for their opinion or for their advice, even though they expect us to be completely independent while in country. Day by day, I am trying to calm down, accept the situation, and be excited about starting over. It is extremely trying and somedays I’m not sure I can do this. I want to go home, back to the States, where life is easy. I know we have our problems and challenges back in America, but for me, I’ve never had such a challenging day-to-day life. Maybe that is because I’m blessed with such a good family and caring parents, but I also think it is because I was lucky enough to be born in a stable country. I keep thinking how unfair it is for me, for my village, and for Cameroonians. Then, I remember my dad telling us girls, growing up, “Life isn’t fair.” I couldn’t agree more. Why do some people get to grow up with parents who think women can do whatever “their little hearts desire” while other kids grow up with parents who think they aren’t valuable enough to go to school? If you aren’t “smart” enough they will take you out of school to work on the farm, or with the cattle, or take care of the younger siblings. Why do some women get to become whatever they want; doctor, lawyer, engineer, while other women are forced to marry at 14, have kids at 15 and obey their husbands demands every day? Life certainly is NOT fair. At 27, why am I able to pay my neighbor woman (who is in her thirties or forties with more than 5 kids) 5,000 FCFA a month to wash my dirty Western clothing? She has certainly worked harder than I have ever worked in my life. If I could give her and her family everything I certainly would. The least I could do was give her bracelets for her and her kids, and take her oldest daughter (who lives at home) to a conference on women’s issues. That seems like nothing. Okay, I could go on for ages about the unfairness about life here, about life for us Americans and the Cameroonians here. We are so lazy, entitled, and don’t know what it is to struggle. Cameroonian women work from 5 am til 6 pm and never complain. I am upset that I had to leave my village, that I have to start this whole process over, but what upsets me more is leaving my friends behind in a “dangerous” area without any protection. Why are they less important than I am? Ugh, it is terribly frustrating. It is extremely difficult to understand and explain in a way for people back home to understand. I can only hope that my village, and many of the good people in Cameroon, are safe and are not displaced or affected by the terrible people in neighboring countries. I will know more on Monday, but for now I know I am going to a village called Tourningal. It has about 1,500 people (my old village had about 7-8,000 people). There is no electricity there; Mayo-Darlé had 4 hours of electricity that seems so precious now. It is mostly Muslim, like my old village, with mostly Fulani people. I am hopeful that I can use my minimal French and Fulfulde skills there. I am afraid that they fact “they speak both French and Fulfulde” means only Fulfulde. As they say in Cameroon, “On va voir” (we will see). Wish me luck while I start this whole integration process over again