Remembering Kate. . .

A year after the death of fellow TEFL volunteer, friend, and mentor Kate, a lot of questions continue to go unanswered. I feel pretty safe here. I tell myself that what happened to Kate was a very isolated situation – a perfect example of how the volunteer experience can go disastrously wrong.

In the end Kate was protecting girls in her village that were being exploited. The exploiter had a lot to lose. The rest of the story could be a bit of mystery, but we’ve filled in the blanks with pieces of information that we’ve heard and internal events that have taken place. In the end it’s a lot of hearsay and little evidence. The tongues of Peace Corps, Benin, and the US Government are tied. Me too I guess. I feel like I can’t really share what I’ve pieced together as long as I’m a volunteer.

When the assistant-director for TEFL called me to tell me about Kate, she said that “Kate has died.” I think when my friends and I heard this, we all wanted to think the best, if there is “a best” in such a situation. She had some health problem that we didn’t know about. Some emergency situation – a snake bite, bike accident, etc. In those first few hours, we never would have dreamt that someone could murder Kate – the example volunteer. When news finally came down from the Peace Corps and from national media that she had been murdered, we didn’t know what to think. What happened? Are we safe?

Within two days, most volunteers were headed to the south for a memorial in her honor. We hoped for more information, too – peace of mind. Really, what was happening? Would they send us home? Were we all at risk? Did Peace Corps have anything they could tell us that could make us feel better. No. They couldn’t tell us anything. Just that she was killed while she was sleeping. What did that mean for us? Sorcery? Ethnic motivations? So many possibilities and Peace Corps couldn’t ease our worries. They could just say that we were safe. Many have struggled with this since. Are we safe? I’ve moved on pretty well, but what happened to Kate is always in the back of my mind.

We remembered Kate as best as we could in the situation. It’s a hard mix – that selfish worrying for your self and the remorse of someone you know and love being brutally killed- That’s something that most Americans live their whole lives without experiencing. A few of us sang “Your Long Journey,” a blue-grass song, Amazing grace, people spoke, a slide show was shown. We knew only one year of Kate but there was still so much to share. My friends and family back home were not there for me. They couldn’t have been, even when they tried. The distance is too much. The only real consolation I found was in being with the people I had grown to love in Peace Corps.

Now we’re here again. We’re in the same room. The same picture of Kate is placed on the same table. Candles are lit as Kate’s own writing and a short obituary are read. The country director, the Ambassador, everyone speaks. We sing, we watch the same slide show. It’s more real the second time around. We’ve processed, we’ve moved on as we can. But everyone still cries when it’s over. Hugs. Moving on.

The Peace Corps experience is such a bipolar experience – one that I have no regrets about sticking with. Some days you’re mad as hell and some days you sit and smile and thank the spirits you’re where you are. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in my life. At the same time, soon I’ll move on. I wish that my two years of service weren’t so dominated by Kate’s death. That can’t change. All the good things, even knowing Kate, learning a language, making friends, teaching, they never would have happened if I weren’t where I am right now. It is well.