The Foreign Service Journal, February 2003

and were planning, over the next several weeks or months, to advance on the capital. We were assured, however, that there was no immediate danger because the rebels were far away and that government forces were still in control of the capital, as well as of several other towns between the rebel-captured town and the capital. Because I was planning to leave the country in two days, I took these assurances at their word and put any thought of danger out of my mind. The next day, however, the president and most high- ranking government officials fled the country. This left the capital in a state of anarchy. Soldiers, police and others with arms went on a looting and pillaging ram- page. I was stuck in a hotel that had no effective secu- rity. On several occasions I saw groups of armed men drive by the hotel slowly, fairly obviously reconnoiter- ing to see whether the hotel was a vulnerable target. As it happened, the back of the hotel was separated by a fence from a river that formed the border with Cameroon. Fearing the worst, I managed to cut a hole in the fence and was planning to swim across the river if necessary. This dire contingency became unnecessary, howev- er, when the French Foreign Legion came to the res- cue! Early Saturday morning, armed men wearing the Foreign Legion berets I had seen previously only in movies took up stations on the ground, on the roof, and behind trees of the hotel. Later that day, all foreign passport holders were evacuated to the nearby French air base. From there we were flown in groups, courtesy of Air France, to Paris. The injured, along with women, children and families, were evacuated first, those of us without families in Chad last. I spent two nights sleeping on a warehouse floor but enjoyed the French food and wine the base provided. On Monday morning, shortly before I departed on the last plane of evacuees, the rebels passed by the base on their way into N’Djamena. They were, ironically, a wel- come sight, because they would at least represent some authority in a city that had had none for three days. By the way, if you are going to be evacuated some- where, Paris ain’t a bad choice! Craig Olson Third Secretary Narcotics Affairs Section United States Embassy Bogota, Colombia Hardship and Heartbreak of Evacuation Our arrival in Addis Ababa in September 1998 was preceded by an outbreak in June of hostilities between Ethiopia and Eritrea. Although hostilities had eased, tensions were high as talk of “trip-wires” and “draw- downs” were bandied about the embassy community. These were new terms to me, despite two previous tours as a Foreign Service spouse. The emotional toll on family members during this time was great. Several had their bags packed by the door, several said, “I won’t go until I’m forced to go.” Others, like me, looked to our CLO and administrative section for guidance. Plans for the holidays were ten- tative and functions had to be kept small and informal. By January 1969, as hostilities once again flared, an evacuation was called and I found myself headed home to Seattle with our two young children. Three families left post the night we left. Despite our efforts to keep the children informed of the situa- tion, yet mindful of not scaring them, our 6-year-old son somehow didn’t get the message that Daddy, the information program officer and an “essential” employee, was not going. “Hey, come on, Dad!” he called as we walked through Customs. I will never for- get the look of shock and sadness that came over his face when it hit him that Daddy wasn’t coming. I believe now that he went into a state of shock, because our usually talkative and happy little boy literally didn’t speak for five days after we landed in Seattle. Within a week it became apparent that I would need to enroll the kids in school. The local public schools had only one opening for the children: across town, class sizes were large and no busing was avail- able. Rather than stay in separate lodging, I chose to enroll the kids in a small private school in the neigh- borhood and live with my parents. It was the best decision for us as the school was understanding of our situation, it was nearby and our allowance just man- aged to pay the tuition. Thankfully, my parents didn’t charge us board and room. I did have to buy a vehicle, however, which was a bit of a financial strain. I would have much preferred to have found public schooling and separate lodging; returning home to live with my parents at the age of 40 isn’t exactly what I — or they — had in mind, but it was the best solution for a bad situation at the time. F O C U S 54 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