Over a Year Since the Incident... and I can finally tell my story

December 27^th, 2014. It was festive season in Mahalapye, Botswana and 3 days after Homecoming, the 20 hr. all day/night rave featuring DJ’s and musicians from all over Africa and Europe. From the beginning of December to 2 weeks after the New Year parties and holiday celebrations erupt around the county. Students have taken their end of year exams and impatiently wait to see if they passed to the next level, business slows to a crawl. Dancing, drinking, singing, eating and praying fill the 6 weeks they call festive season.

At 8:30am it was drizzling, gray and quiet, most of the village was sleeping off the festivities from x-mas. I walked to the main hotel to get a good breakfast and hopefully time on a somewhat reliable Internet connection. I chose to cross the dry riverbed and take the footpath that skirts Flowertown, the ward on the other side. As I turned off the rivers edge along the railroad tracks I reached the area where there were no more houses. I could see the commercial area ahead of me where the agricultural store and the lumber company sat. As I approached the old paved road that crossed the railroad tracks there were 2 men on the road just ahead of me. They walked past the trail I was on looking in my direction, a few seconds later our eyes met as they turned toward me on the trail. The taller man told me to give them some money. A brief thought entered my head about turning down a small path that cut off toward the tracks, but instead I stood my ground and said “no” and continued to walk past them. Each man grabbed one of my wrists as I could feel the blood moving quickly through my veins. My face went flush as I said “Fuck You!” I felt a mix of adrenaline, anxiety and fear and I pulled away as hard as I could. The man on my left pulled back with such force that it knocked me off balance sending me to the ground. My head flew back over the top of my backpack and smashed into the ground. They both were taken back and I don’t think they were sure what to do as I lie there on the ground. I put my feat up when they tried to advance toward me and they backed away.

At that moment I didn’t think to yell, as we were taught in our Safety and Security class. Instead I thought about what a woman in my office told me regarding a woman who had been robbed at knife point just the other day. She said the robber took the woman’s SIM card out of her phone and handed it to her telling her to go buy a new phone.

The thieves hesitated and I told them they could have my phone and my money, but they can’t have the SIM card. “I will take the SIM card out of my phone.” I fumbled nervously for my phone, reaching over my head into the top of my backpack. They waited patiently, leaning forward, then stepping back when I lifted up my feet. I noticed that they were of small stature, not much taller than myself, and slight of build. One of them had on a striped shirt and dark green pants and I think the other one had on blue jeans and a t-shirt. They actually looked fairly clean cut.

The men waited patiently as I pulled out my phone, opened it and took out the SIM card. I handed them my phone and started to reach for my wallet. Blindly scanning my pack with my hand, I had a hard time finding it and my heart was pounding faster as they grew more impatient and leaned forward again. I felt some protection from my feet as I lifted them up again and they tentatively stepped back. Finally, I produced my wallet from my backpack and the taller, more aggressive one, stepped around me and snatched it from my hand. He dug through it pulling out ID’s, bankcards, cash and the copy of my passport. I told him what each item was as he pulled it out and I asked him to only take the money, that I really need my ID’s. He dropped the wallet on my chest and most of the items fell to the ground as he pocketed the money. The other man unzipped my small pouch and I told him it was just my keys as they fell to the ground. They tried to get my backpack out from under me and I held on tight. The aggressive one threatened me with a large rock as I remembered to yell... “Tuso! Ke Kopa Tuso!” (Help! I Need Help!) At that moment I thought I saw someone far down the road, whatever it was caused the thieves to run down toward the river, away from the road. I got up quickly. Dizzy and disoriented I staggered toward the road when I realized I left several things lying on the ground, including my keys and credit card. Pumped with adrenaline, I tentatively walked back to where I was lying on the ground and picked up the pieces. Everything was covered in dirt and mud, including me. I walked to the hotel in what seemed like seconds, though it was still about a ½ mile away. Through shallow breath and fractured sentences, I told the desk attendant about the men. I’m sure I looked as flustered as I felt. One of the women let me put my SIM card in her phone to call Thuso, Peace Corps safety and security officer. I was having trouble with the reception on the phone and it seemed like it took forever to figure out the best way to handle the situation. I left Thuso a message with the number of the hotel, he eventually called back and I called the police, who told me to wait there.

Given it was festive season the police were very busy. I tried to clean myself up in the bathroom as best I could, but everything seem futile. I was exhausted, the adrenaline was wearing off and I just wanted a safe comfortable place to curl up and make myself as small as possible. I wanted to hide, or shrink up like Alice in Wonderland.

I waited in the lobby for hours. The cops finally came and asked me several questions about what happened. They spoke with Thuso on the phone, took copious notes, but it was still required of me to go down to the station to finish the police report. I didn’t want to go and wanted so much to be done with all of it, get cleaned up and eat the breakfast I had been looking so forward to. I wanted to escape my Peace Corps world and experience some of the finer things in Botswana, but those two men made sure that wasn’t going to happen, at least not today.

There were already several people in the police pickup truck. I starred at the female officer blankly when she wanted me to ride in the covered bed of the truck, where they put criminals. The 2 officers that were in the cab jumped in the back, I got in the front with the female officer and we started our journey. There were at least 3 other stops on the way back to the station. One man’s car was broken into in his front yard and a house was burglarized. We picked up another person, who got in the front of the cab with me; it wasn’t an extended cab, or a large truck by any means, and my knees were smashed up against the stick shift. I had a suspicion that the man we picked up was a suspect in a crime, but maybe that was my paranoia speaking. I think there were about 7, or 8 of us in the truck by now.

At the station there were several people in handcuffs and others just sitting randomly in chairs. All I could think about was getting out of there as quickly as possible. A young rookie from another village and a female officer from another village took my statement. During festive season, so many officers are sent to Mahalapye for backup. Mahalapye has some of the highest crime rates in the country during festive season.

No one took fingerprints from my wallet, even after I asked about it. They took my statement and promised me they would catch the thieves. It was about 2pm by then and I asked to be taken back to the hotel so I could get a good meal and relax by the pool. We took an SUV this time. There was a girl about 17, or 18 that joined me in the back seat and we talked softly as we drove to the hospital near by. Farly quickly I figured out that she had been raped, or sexually assaulted, and was going for a screening. I felt her shame and wounded spirit as she got out of the vehicle. She was alone and as we drove off I thought that maybe I should have offered to stay with her.

A local friend came over that night, we drank a bottle of wine and talked. She told me of the time her cell phone was snatched right out of her had when she was using it and that she held on so tight that her wrist hurt for days. She also told me of how her house had been burglarized, twice. The most difficult time for me came over the next few days. I was restless and couldn’t sleep, my shoulder, neck and wrists ached. It was hard to leave the house and I didn’t want to walk anywhere. I wanted to wait it out, see how I felt, at least until after new years. I was able to release some tension and relax a little at a friend’s news years gathering, but that was only temporary. The next day I couldn’t leave the house.

The day after New Years I spoke to Dr. Shava about my shoulder and he agreed to see me in the capital, but there was still a week left of the holiday. I also told him I wasn’t sleeping and I was paranoid. The pain seemed to be getting worse and the bruising was spreading. I didn’t get support from my program manager when I told her I needed to get out of Mahalapye, even after I told her I didn’t have the courage to walk anywhere. I felt like a prisoner in my house. It’s up to our program managers to decide if we can leave our village during lockdown, the first 3 months we are in our village we can’t travel without permission. The next day I called the program director and called Dr. Shava, again. After several days, many phone calls and much deliberation, they all agreed that I could come to the capital, Gaborone, and seek refuge. I couldn’t imagine taking the bus, or hiking (hitching a ride at the bus stop, a common and safe practice in Botswana). I was able to secure a ride with a friend that was coming through Mahalapye from another village the next day. His father owned the pharmacy that the Peace Corp used during training. All of this needed to be approved and was heavily scrutinized. I was exhausted by the time it was all settled.

I spent the weekend in Gaborone (Gabs) and Dr. Shava couldn’t see me that Monday, so my appt. was pushed until Tuesday. He told me he wanted me to wait until after In Service Training (IST) to send me to an orthopedic doctor, in service training was 2 weeks long and didn't start until the next Monday. Well, I didn't make it through IST and ended up in the hospital 1/2 way through.

During the first 2 weeks in Gabs I could meet with a psychotherapist and I found great solace in that. She told me that she wanted me to talk to other Peace Corps volunteers about what happened and how I handled the situation, though it wasn’t what we were taught in training, it's something she wished we could teach others. I took control of the situation taking the power out of the hands of the thieves, where we were taught to be submissive and give them everything. Taking control of the situation tends to reduce the potential for violence. It’s her theory that if we can take more control of situations, set clear boundaries and not let fear override us that crime would be less and violence reduced. Elaborating that it’s not something that’s easy to teach and a person needs to have good cognitive intelligence, she told me of the recent story about several women that were taken captive by ISIS and how a young woman, and her sisters, escaped rape and slavery. They escaped because she was able to take control of the situation, not let her fear overcome her and had good cognitive intelligence. You can listen to the story here http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2014/09/27/351783611/kidnapped-by-isis-one-woman-tells-how-she-saved-her-sisters 

The driver for Botrail Cycling Club was a police officer in Zimbabwe and he confirmed what the therapist told me stating that he thought I did the right thing by taking control of the situation. Even doing the “right thing” leaves it’s mark. It’s been over a year since the incident. I’m having nightmares occasionally, though they aren’t specific and most the time I don’t remember what they are about. At times I find it hard to leave my apartment and the anxiety for everyday activities is still paralyzing. I also have paranoia on trails when I’m alone, or at night when walking down the street of one of the friendliest and safest towns in America. I never used to be afraid. The thing that scares me the most is that I have no direction, I’m having a hard time making a decision about a career, where I want to live, or even if I want to ski, hike, snowshoe or meet up with friends. Everyone still sees me as this strong, independent, fearless, make it happen kind of woman. Well, I don’t know where that person is right now. The hardest thing for me to grasp is that I’ve always been able to take that next step, make something happen, or just go with the flow and have the confidence that it will all work out. Now I don’t see what’s ahead of me and, only what’s behind me, I want it all to go away!!

There’s an entire story around the delays for getting the care that I needed and the way I was treated by the Peace Corps staff. I’m still dealing with the repercussions related to the delays of my surgery and treatment and the emotional implications of how I was treated when I got back to the US. Even with all the hurdles I experienced with Peace Corps I loved my service and truly wanted to go back. There are a lot of politics and personalities within Peace Corps, but it’s up to us volunteers to make our service count. In the end it’s all about what we make of it. Now that it’s been almost a year since my medical separation, and I'm still recovering from my last surgery, I can’t go back without reapplying. I’m trying hard to look forward to my next adventure whatever that might be.