The Foreign Service Journal, February 2003

they were camped out around me on the bed and floor. But there was no need to whisper into the phone. Not one of them was sleeping. All evening there had been intermittent gunfire and frequent, piercing message signals from the walkie-talkie on the nightstand. Every embassy family had been given one of these little devices. When we arrived in Bangui for our first African tour, I had been amused by it. But it was now a communication lifeline with the embassy and trans- mitted information from there and other locations around the city that it might be unwise to miss. “Pack the things that they care about most, ” he said. I had packed underwear, clothing, shoes — a practical array of items to which any child would be indifferent, or worse, disappointed to find included in a collection of what might be the sum total of his personal posses- sions if, as seemed likely, our houses were looted after we departed. “Everybody up,” I said, after hanging up the phone. “Mommy needs help with the packing. Go get whatever you would most like to take with you.” (The bedrooms had all been assigned to the families staying with us, but this was currently a household of people running on adrenalin, awake, making plans — or just waiting, watchful.) The clothes were dumped in a pile. Tiny figurines, dolls, a baseball cap, teddy bears, a china tea set replaced them. Our 8-year old daughter entered car- rying Lou, a large stuffed pony. From fatigue, exasper- ation, and pity, too, that our children were faced with this kind of choice, I almost cried. “Sweetie, how can we? ...” Then, a solution came to me. “Get the scis- sors out of that sewing basket. You and your sister take Lou into the bathroom and put his stuffing in the trash can.” Lou was folded flat and packed. So were most of the birthday presents, ordered months in advance, stacked in a corner awaiting the various “big days” that clearly would now not be celebrated as planned. So was my wedding dress. Later, as I watched four children unpacking and arranging their treasures in a hotel room in Cameroon, the wisdom of my husband’s advice, hastily given in the wee hours of a long night, struck me. For all they knew, these childish scraps and bits were the sum total of their worldly goods — but these were the ones that mattered. And that was enough. Elizabeth Laeuchli Budapest, Hungary A Convoy Through the Congo It was July 9, 1960, in Elisabethville, Republic of the Congo. At the consulate, we issued a recommendation to all American citizens that they should leave immediately. Consul Bill Canup and I (the vice consul) prepared our own families to drive south in a motor convoy to the Copper Belt in Northern Rhodesia. The previous night we had received advice from our Belgian army contacts that there would shortly be a conflict between two fac- tions of the Force Publique (the local Congo army). One was supporting the current elected governor of Katanga province, and the other was supporting the defeated can- didate, who was connected to Patrice Lumumba, about to be prime minister in Leopoldville. The convoy departed in good time. Several hours later, as darkness came to the town, we could hear gun- fire coming from the direction of the barracks. This last- ed until the following morning, when a strange calm came over the city. We had warned everyone not to move about during this time. However, we learned that the Italian vice consul, looking for Italian citizens, had been stopped at a roadblock and shot. Then we learned that the pro-Lumumba group of soldiers had surrendered and were being shipped off to Kasai province, from whence they came. At the request of the provincial gov- ernment, Belgian troops flew in, and that seemed to calm things down, at least temporarily. We brought our families back from Northern Rhodesia, safe and sound. Later the U.N. arrived, but that is another story. By the way, July 9 is my birthday, and Bill Canup and I cracked open a bottle of champagne to celebrate my reaching the advanced age of 32. John A. Anderegg Program Officer East Asian and Pacific Programs Department of State Evacuation from Mogadishu In December 1990 the decision was made to evac- uate all dependents and non-essential staff from Mogadishu, Somalia. The first effort utilized an Air Kenya flight; unfortunately, a smaller plane than expected arrived at the airport, so our families were left behind. Air Somalia was the second choice, but the plane could not get started. A Saudi flight came, but F O C U S 52 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / F E B R U A R Y 2 0 0 3