Fshati

It seems that most of my friends in Korca have some attachment to a village (fshat) somewhere in the region. They may still have relatives living there or even own an old house and a garden. They prize the apples or figs from their trees and opine that the wine or raki, made from their grapes or berries, is the best in the country. The air and water are better there. Palo and Moza, my landlords, go to Dardhe. Fehmi has a place in Kapshtica, outside of the small city of Bilisht. Isufi has Bigell. I go to see my host family in Thane.

I had promised Catherine’s host family and my family that I would visit as soon as I could after I got back from London. It was the only way to stop them from phoning constantly. Last weekend there was snow and ice on the road over the Qafe e Thane, the pass over the mountain between Lake Ohrid and the Skumbin River that flows from huge springs under the Qafe e Thane through the center of the country, including Elbasan. This weekend warmed up a bit and the road was dry. I took the bus on Saturday morning.

Monday was also the Muslim Dita e Veres, summers day and a national holiday. Elbasan is predominantly Muslim and has a festival that draws a crowd from all over the country. There was a stage set up on the boulevard in front of the castle in central Elbasan. Music- traditional Albanian, rock, rap, Brazilian and more blared over the loud speakers. There were so many people pushing and shoving in the throng that surged around the stage that it felt like what passes for a line at the post office. Ballakume, the traditional cookie for Dita e Veres, were on sale everywhere. Over the weekend the price dropped from 110 lek to 80 lek.

On Saturday night, a large group of volunteers, mostly from Group 13, but a couple from my group 12, met at an Elbasan volunteer’s home for green curry rice and vegetables. Albanian food is wholesome and fresh but tends to be pretty bland. One of the volunteers had received the curry spice in a care package from home. It was a welcome change.

Sunday morning I took the old Udhetari (travelers) bus that I rode so often during PST out to Thane. My host mother was working in the carrot patch in her garden as I walked up to the house. Her older son was sleeping up stairs, the younger son was playing with friends, her husband was working in Greece and her mother-in-law was visiting her son who works in Italy and lives there with his family (the recent easing of the visa requirements for Albanians to visit eurozone countries has let her go there twice since November).

She called her older boy down. He has been studying English at the Turkish college he attends in Cerrik, a small city just beyond Thane. He is actually getting pretty good. The younger boy has filled out a lot and is still very athletic. He had been playing soccer with his buddies and had been called home to see me. She served coffee and fruit and then went to work making homemade ballakume with fresh eggs from her hens, hand churned butter from cream she milked from her cows that morning, and corn meal from her harvest last summer. The sugar was from beets grown elsewhere in Albania, although I suppose she could have used honey from her hives as a sweetener instead. In less than 20 minutes they were served hot from the oven and were much better than any I have eaten previously.

Her sister and her two young daughters came over from next door. Jesika, who is now 9, was the one with whom I played “Tjeter” (other) to find words for various categories of nouns when I was first learning Albanian. Her younger sister, Vanesa, has also grown a lot. I was pleased that she remembered me, although I had been told that she frequently asked where I was when I left for Korca after PST. We all chatted easily (my Albanian is not as good as some of the younger volunteers who by now speak fluently and are hard to distinguish from native speakers, but I can carry on a conversation). They asked about Catherine, of course, and talked about the volunteers they had from group 13 and the new ones they expect next weekend as Group 14 is due to arrive to begin Pre-service Training on Wednesday.

Liri, Catherine’s host mother stopped in as she had heard that I was in the village. I assured her I was coming there next. My host mother insisted that this would be after dreken (lunch). She served meat and vegetable soup, salad, yoghurt and homemade bread to us all. A short time afterwards I headed a few blocks away to visit Comeri and Liri and their family.

Of course, coffee and homemade ballakume were served. I had to argue forcefully that no, I did not want to eat lunch again, and was having a hard time getting down yet another ballakume, no matter how good they were. That seemed to satisfy Liri, although she did give me a few to take with me. I apologized to Comeri that he had not been shown the respect he deserved when he had come to the hospital in Tirana to see Catherine. He seemed to accept that and appreciate the apology, which, in itself, was a sign of respect. This family was not having another volunteer stay with them, although this was attributed to an upcoming wedding for the next daughter who had recently been engaged and not to any hard feelings towards the Peace Corps.

We talked a lot about Catherine as they are very close to her. Aldi, the older of my host family’s boys, offered to help them Skype with Catherine from a village lokal that has internet. I thought the coffee shop in Thane had really progressed when they stopped butchering cows in the middle of the room while you were drinking your coffee, but now they have a computer with a web cam. Things are changing quickly in Albania, even in Thane.

I walked back over to my host family’s house. Several people from the village came outside to say hello, including Beni, my host family’s nephew who looks like the Fonz. I enjoyed talking with him, although he is not working and spends his days hanging out at the lokal. I think my family is not happy with him. He tried to sneak into Greece to get work, but was caught and sent back. Apparently, he has not done much since.

I did extract a promise from my host mother that she would send the two boys to Korca for a couple of days next week. There is a school holiday for Sultan Nevruz. I have off from Preka as well and would love to show them Korca. They have never visited there before, even though it is less than 100 miles from Elbasan. I had given them money for the furgon ride before and next week would be a great opportunity as there is also not a lot of farm work right now. They were excited at the prospect, although their mother complained that she would be lonely without them. One of their neighbors is a furgon driver between Elbasan and Korca and she plans to send them with him. I think they may actually come.

Besides Dita e Veres, Monday was my two year anniversary in the Peace Corps. Although the term of service is technically 27 months and my official close of service date is May 27th, volunteers in my group can leave early with the permission of the country director. This is usually related to school or job opportunities. Some in my group are starting graduate programs. A few are going to teaching or training programs in Europe or Asia. Sometimes health issues are involved. One couple is leaving for graduate school and she is pregnant. Even if she has a speedy and full recovery, as we continue to hope, Catherine would not likely be allowed to return to Albania as a volunteer. What is not clear at this point is whether she will have a medical discharge or just close her service in the US. She is scheduled for an evaluation at a well respected treatment program in Phoenix and we are hoping, at least, for answers to our many questions regarding recommended therapy and prognosis.

I have not yet set a close of service date. I have enough unused leave that I can close anytime in May, or even a bit before if I want, but I am committed to working with Isufi and Jani and teaching my Life Skills class while the main teacher is off on maternity leave. I will probably shorten my travel through Europe to just a few cities I would like to see before I head home. I already have our tickets from Berlin in mid-June and I am not sure how easy they are to change. I was supposed to set a date at the Close of Service conference that I missed while I was in London. The staff has been very understanding and has not pressed me for a decision as we all anxiously wait for information from Arizona.

Back in Korca

Thursday morning I watched Catherine and her sister get into a London cab and drive off to Heathrow. The Peace Corps was flying them first class to Dallas, with a connection to Tucson. She has done remarkably well and the rate of early recovery is the best prognostic sign for brain injury. We have good reason to be hopeful. The latest plan was for her to see a doctor in Tucson early the following week and then request a referral to Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix for a comprehensive assessment.

I walked around Kensington Park for the rest of the day and then took the Underground to Heathrow for my flight. I had scheduled to fly through Rome and then on to Tirana. Flights in that direction had some problems, perhaps related to the evacuations from Libya. I had to rearrange my flights but, after spending the night on a bench in Terminal 4, was able to leave early the next morning on a flight to Rome with a close connecting flight. The flight was slightly delayed and then parked on the ramp, so we had to be bused to the terminal. I raced through security and then to the departure gate where we boarded another bus. We were taken to a plane almost next to the one on which I had arrived. I had hoped my inbound flight would park near my connecting flight. I have to be more specific on what I wish for.

I caught the bus from Mother Teresa International to the city center and then walked to the Peace Corps office. I walked past the dentist’s office and tried to figure out where Catherine had been hit. There were so many potential places. As one rides on buses or furgons through Albania one see many marble shrines to mark places where people have been killed in accidents. They usually have a name, dates, a photograph and some artificial flowers. One can see similar, but makeshift, markers along roads in Idaho.

I spoke with the country director and other staff that had been so helpful following Catherine’s accident. I thanked them for their support and understanding. It almost made up for the bad experience I had with the nurse that came out to London from the Peace Corps office in DC. I tried to take care of some of the administrative items from the Close of Service conference that had been held in Korca while I was away. Maybe it was jet lag, but when I tried to open the files I downloaded at the office in Tirana, my computer wouldn’t cooperate. Maybe I’ll figure it out when I catch up on my sleep.

I had phone calls and texts from friends, both volunteer and Albanian. Now that I was back in Albania and knew they wouldn’t be exorbitantly charged, I took the calls and thanked them for their concern. I promised to visit Catherine’s host family as soon as I could. When I walked into my apartment, I found a banner above the kitchen door from all the volunteers who were at Close of Service conference. It was covered with notes welcoming me home and wishing Catherine a quick recovery. There was even a cut out of a jet. How appropriate.

Saturday morning, I sorted through the large bag that the Peace Corps staff had left in my apartment with all the pieces of the medical machine I had brought back for Dr. Isufi. He arranged for his son to drive to my apartment and bring it to his office. In the afternoon, after assembling the pieces with glue and tape, we plugged it in. Much to my amazement it worked and successfully went through the set up test program. The French baggage handlers that had dropped kicked the box marked “fragile” across the tarmac in Paris had been thwarted by tough, US made construction. We went out for coffee to celebrate, but I begged off a celebratory dinner. I needed sleep more than food. Also, we still have to make sure it functions correctly, so a celebration is a bit premature.

On Sunday morning, I met the volunteer from Bilisht who is leaving early. She has been a good friend of Catherine and me, and it was sad to see her off on the furgon to Tirane. After that, I walked to the church where I met my friends from Preka School and the group of nuns who have also been such good friends. I thanked them for all their support and prayers. We have a lot to be thankful for.

The afternoon was sunny and bright and not too cold. Another volunteer from Korca and I hiked up the road to Mborja, a village east of Korca, and along a gravel road by a creek in a canyon leading into the mountains. We doubled back along a side canyon, through a shallow covering of snow under a grove of pine trees, and clambered up to the ridge where the cross overlooks Korca. We walked back along the paved road in the late afternoon. Benny, the caretaker at St. Theodor’s, a small orthodox church I frequently visit on my morning walks up the mountain, was working on the grounds. When he saw me he ran out to the road to enthusiastically welcome me back. I showed the interior to the other volunteer. It has some of my favorite icons in Albania and, thanks to Benny, it is well maintained.

Later in the evening, I met my friend Lawrence for coffee. Even though he is from Malta, he appears to have picked up some Albanian customs from his long tenure in Korca, so, of course, it involved a meal as well. I may be wrong. Malta is part of the Levant and may have its own, similar, tradition of hospitality. They are certainly taking in thousands of refugees from Libya, including hundreds of Americans that were recently brought there by ferry from Tripoli.

Monday, I went to the health education office at the Directorate of Public Health. The nurses and lab technicians I work with all asked about Catherine and wished her the traditional wish for a speedy recovery, which, in Albanian is “te shkuare”, that is, “to be as you were in the past”. That seems both an apt and difficult wish.

I also learned that my nurse counterpart was enthusiastic about going to a meeting in Tirana on Tuesday at the Ministry of Health. This was planned to honor the work of Peace Corps health education volunteers throughout Albania and to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps. All the volunteers, staff and principal counterparts had been invited. I was hoping she would beg off because she has so much work to do in her home, taking care of her young son, her husband and his parents, as is the responsibility of young Albanian wives. She felt this meeting was a special one, and worth the trip. Although I would rather remain in Korca and work on my projects with Dr. Isufi, Dr. Jani and at the Preka School, it would be awkward for her to be without “her volunteer”. I don’t look forward to another nine hours in furgons to and from Tirana and, yet another night at Fredi’s. Maybe I can also stand in for Catherine with her counterpart nurse from Permet. I know that would please Catherine.

This is London

With a few minor delays we all finally arrived in London. Catherine came by air ambulance, her sister and older daughter by American Airlines from Dallas and me and the younger daughter by British Air from Tirana. Transport from the Gatwick to Kensington was made more interesting by a Monty Pythonesque experience of each information desk person giving conflicting instructions. For example, we were sent back and forth twice between tracks going in opposite directions at Victoria Station and then the tube station where we were told to get off turned out to be wrong. We finally got in a cab and were safely delivered to the hotel the Peace Corps had reserved. The cab driver questioned me if I meant to give him so large a tip. I assured him I did. Since the PC is supposed to be an austere organization and relies so heavily on the internet for communication, it would have been considerate had they booked a hotel that was no quite so expensive or had internet service for less than $15 an hour extra, but at least it was walking distance from the hospital. We all settled into our rooms and then headed over to the ICU at Cromwell Hospital.

England is much more liberal than Albania for visiting hours and they were also much more aggressive in getting Catherine awake and off the ventilator. They changed her to short acting medications and, after repeating the CT Scan the next morning, began to taper sedation. Catherine showed some worrisome signs of increased tone and posturing which I later found out were likely due to the medications, but then opened her eyes and began breathing. Soon the endotracheal tube was removed and she was talking. Much to my relief, she remembered who I was. By afternoon she was taking a few bites of food and sips of coffee and sitting up briefly in a bedside chair.

On Saturday morning the rest of her tubes were removed and she was transferred out of the ICU to a private room on a locked ward. She was mostly talking appropriately, but a bit confused, confabulating and impulsive. Still, her underlying charming self was evident, as she was smiling, joking and enthusiastic. She had some mild difficulties with balance and coordination. Physical and respiratory therapies were continuing, but occupational and speech therapy did not work weekends at this hospital and she would not be seen for evaluation until Monday. This is where going to a hospital more specialized in brain injury would have been beneficial, but at this point, it is not causing any significant problem. I would like her to get a thorough evaluation rather than gloss over any deficits, since these are better attended to early on rather than trying to be remediated after they create untoward complications. The nurse from the PC office in DC does not seem to agree with that, but I don’t think it is an unreasonable request. She has made it clear that because I am not family, I really don’t have any say in the matter. Maybe it is too much to ask that since I am also a Peace Corps volunteer who has been affected by this accident, she might have some duty to be a bit more considerate of my feelings, but I can’t fault her for being focused on Catherine. We all should be. Whatever, we’ll see what Catherine’s attending neurosurgeon thinks, although I haven’t seen him around since yesterday morning. I think he has been busy with surgery at another hospital.

Catherine was pretty upset at waking up outside of Albania, but seems to be accepting the fact that her Peace Corps service is completed. I expect that when she is well enough to travel on commercial airlines, with her daughter and sister as escort, she will be transported stateside for whatever rehabilitative care she requires. If I am able to weigh in on the decision, it will be in a program of the highest competence and reputation. When that is accomplished, I plan to head back to Korca to finish up my projects. If Catherine does well enough, maybe she can fly back to Albania to say a proper “mirupafshim” to her many Albanian friends and her fellow volunteers and PC Albania staff. Maybe that is a lot to hope for, but the fact that I can consider it at all seems nothing short of a miracle.

Reanimacioni

I had planned to write this next post about the Close of Service conference which is scheduled in Korca next week. As I said before, plans change. “Reanimacioni” is the Albanian word for Intensive Care. I saw that word for the first time by the elevator in Spitali Hygeia in Tirana on Tuesday evening.

A few minutes after I walked into my apartment in Korca for the first time in more than two weeks, my cell phone rang. It was Fredi, who rents inexpensive rooms to Peace Corps volunteers who stay in Tirana and provides all manner of helpful services for volunteers as they learn to navigate the busy capital city. He told me he had just learned that Catherine had been taken to Military Hospital. This is the hospital that all ambulances take patients to in Tirana. I immediately called the Peace Corps medical officer and was told that she and the country director were on the way to the hospital. I tried to call Catherine. A short while later, the medical officer phoned to say that Catherine had been hit by a car and they were having her transferred to one of the new and well staffed private hospitals in Tirana, Spitali Hygeia. I had noticed the large, modern building when we rode the bus into town on Friday. I think I pointed it out to Catherine. The country director got on the phone and authorized me to leave my site and come to Tirana. That was nice of him, but I was on my way, whatever. I walked past the city center to the furgon stop and caught a ride with the same driver who had driven me from Tirana in the morning.

Several calls on the long ride back told me that Catherine had been hit by a car when crossing a busy street while walking back to Fredi’s from her close of service dentist appointment. The older lady who had hit her had actually stopped to help. This is unusual in Albania where any accident will result in protracted hassles from the police. She had contacted Fredi by calling the last number dialed on the cell phone. Fredi called the Peace Corps office and then called me. At first, she did not seem severely injured, but was confused and combative and then lapsed into coma. Rather than have me take a bus or a cab across Tirana to the hospital, the country director arranged to have a Peace Corps car meet me outside the US Embassy which is on the furgon route into Tirana. This was both worrisome and appreciated.

The Peace Corps programming and training officer was in the car. As we drove to Spitali Hygeia, he told me the Peace Corps office in Washington, DC, was contacting Catherine’s family and would make decisions about medical evacuation, if necessary. He offered to let me stay at his apartment, if I wanted. We met the medical officer and her Albanian assistant at the hospital reception area and took the elevator upstairs. The neurosurgeon spoke with me, and, after gowning and washing our hands with disinfectant, led us in to see Catherine.

It was a scene I have seen many times before, but never from the perspective of a loved one. She was unresponsive with tubes in her nose and mouth. I held her hand and stood there as long as they let me. After half an hour, increasing levels in the chain of command of the ICU nurses asked me to leave. I resisted until the ICU medical director explained that they wanted to limit stimulation and would I please leave now. This seemed a bit strange since stimulation is a main treatment of arousal problems, such as coma. Otherwise the medical care seemed fine. I tried hard not to be confrontational. This is a bit of a stretch for me. Perhaps I have learned something in the Peace Corps. Maybe it is just old age.

The next day, Catherine’s daughter arrived from Germany where she works at a hotel in the Alps. I had only met her once before when she visited Albania before starting her new job. Several of our good friends from our group came to Tirana to offer help and moral support. Many others emailed and texted kind words and a willingness to help in any way needed. Thank you very much, it meant a lot.
Many Albanian friends from Korca , Permet, Thane and Tirana called and some came to the hospital, although few were allowed in to see her. All were shocked and concerned. We have two groups of nuns in Korce and Bolivia, the Precca Society, Greek Orthodox, Muslim and Jewish friends busy praying. We have remarkable coverage. Inshalla, Catherine will have a rapid recovery and be incredibly angry that she was taken out of Albania before she could finish her service. She had planned to travel to Leskovik on Friday to do her breast cancer presentation for a group of women at the medical clinic and then travel on to Korca for the conference.

The Peace Corps office in Washington decided to transfer Catherine to a hospital in London. I don’t know much about this institution, but I have asked knowledgeable friends back home for their opinion. Meanwhile, Catherine moved and responded a bit when they allowed the level of sedation to decrease slightly. Other family members are meeting us in London tomorrow afternoon. We’ll see how things go. I am hopeful, but realistic and considering rehabilitation possibilities in the US. We will have to consider PC preferences, and I have to respect that I am not family and really have no say in the matter.

The day of her transfer, the country director drove us to the hospital for a last visit on the way to the airport. Her site mates from Permet came with us to see us off. Catherine’s host family from Thane was at the hospital, the father, two daughters and a son-in-law. They wanted to see Catherine, even though I had told them repeatedly when I phoned the night before that they would not likely be allowed to see her. I don’t think the authorities realized how close Catherine is with this family or maybe they judged them by their worn clothes, not realizing that they had worn the best clothing they owned. They were obviously hurt and felt a lack of respect that is probably the most significant offense in Albanian culture. This was assuaged by taking the whole group to coffee in the hospital café. There were many toasts to Catherine’s speedy recovery. I promised them we will return to visit them in Thane and made their youngest daughter promise to work hard in school, as Catherine would want. We parted at the hospital entrance and headed off to Mother Teresa International.

The country director was kind enough to grant me administrative leave to follow Catherine through her initial treatment. This is extremely considerate, since, again, I am not family. I have up to 45 days, which saves me from the prospect of early termination. I appreciate that. I have projects that I wanted to complete before leaving Albania, but there are other priorities for now.

A Visit Home

I am posting this because the whole purpose of this blog was to relate my “Peace Corps experience” and my visit home was certainly an important part of that. Anyway, it is mostly written. The next post, however, supersedes this one. The next post supersedes everything.

Pilot lore has a “rule of three”. If three or more glitches occur in the preparation for any flight, a wise pilot puts the plane back in the hangar and launches on another day. Accidents are forged by a chain of events. Break any of the links and disaster may be averted. As they say, “it is much better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than in the air wishing you were on the ground”.

My first trip home in almost two years was in early February. This was timed to allow me to attend a required course to renew my instructor pilot certificate. This is easily done with a two day course, with the stipulation that it be renewed before it expires. Reinstating it after expiration is a bear. I had taken the course just before I left home to join the Peace Corps, but it is only good for two years. A Peace Corps term of service is 27 months. While the course can be taken on-line, the paper work has to be submitted in person so the applicant can be verified by government, picture ID. The Peace Corps allows three “free” leave days related to courses needed to renew professional licenses. Attending the class at home had the added benefit of seeing my old instructor pilot buddies that I have done this biannual requirement with for the past two decades.

I had to leave for Tirana a day early since the protests on the Friday before I left had resulted in three deaths and scores of injured and on the Friday I planned to travel to the airport there was protest of that. The Peace Corps security officer let me know that a “stand fast” order would be in effect on Friday, beginning at 8:30 AM. That meant I had to stay where I was at that time. To comply I had to travel the day before to Tirana and stay the night with a friend in the city. I got on the 8 AM bus from Korca to Tirana. After waiting half an hour, the driver told us there were not enough passengers, so there would be no bus today. The passengers got off the bus and found furgons instead. The next morning I caught the airport bus and loitered for 20 hours until my flight was scheduled to depart. This was probably a good idea for me personally, since my route of travel required me to walk across the center of the city in the middle of the time of the protest. I read a couple of books and had a great meal at the airport café (for about $8. Try that at any other international airport in the world). The custodians at the Tirana airport were very nice about letting me sleep on the benches. At 2:30 AM I was able to check my bags all the way to Boise. My flights to Budapest, then Paris, then Salt Lake, then Boise even left on time.

There was a list of 50 items or so to accomplish. These included everything from meeting with my accountant to go over tax stuff to donating blood. With the help of many friends, I was able to get through most of it. In fact, if I haven’t explicitly said this, Peace Corps service, especially at an advanced age, requires the help of many people back home. These include my trusted friends who have my power of attorney and have sent in tuition checks for a kid in college, signed contracts for rental of my home, made money transfers so I could pay my taxes, and so many other things. I have already mentioned my aviation friends who have supported the Aviation Club of Korca. It continues, mostly to their credit, to the benefit of kids from kindergarten to high school. I have no doubt it is unique in the Balkans, and probably in the Peace Corps, as well. My home librarian helped me get online books on tape and e-books, something that has been invaluable. My banker helped immensely when the arrangements I made before I left proved to be wrong. The people in my former office let me know about important mail and helped me solve many problems. The staff office of my institution helped repeatedly with questions that arose about online access and email. Good friends helped with storage of furniture, boxes of books, clothes, papers and accumulated detritus of 60 years. My old convertible is on blocks in the hangar of a good friend and will be great to drive when I get home next summer. That same friend made sure I had wheels while I was home for my visit. Even my sprinkler guy sends me encouraging emails from time to time. I think the Peace Corps should provide some recognition of partial Peace Corps service for those back home, who make it possible for volunteers to work abroad for 27 months. In my case for sure it is definitely a group effort. If I have not officially thanked all of you, I would like to do so now.

I got in some skiing and some flying and even did a clinic to benefit two worthy local causes (Wilderness Within Reach which flies disabled people to backcountry ranches for a weekend each summer, and ACE Academy put on by the State division of aeronautics to teach high school students about careers in aviation- I wish I could enroll some from the Aviation Club of Korca in that). Dinners and parties were appreciated, and, while it was absolutely wonderful to see everyone, I did gain about five pounds.

As planned, I packed mostly books and donated equipment for my counterparts in Albania for the trip back. This included a 20X20X20 inch box of electronics for Dr. Isufi, the number one item on his wish list when we first met. It barely complied with the current weight and size limits for the airlines. It was well padded and marked “fragile” and had my name and address of the Peace Corps office in Tirana written on it inside and out. No doubt you have guessed that it wasn’t on the carousel at Tirana International after I arrived.

It was a chain of errors, of course. I should have checked more carefully on the routing when I checked in. I should have checked at each stop to make sure it was transferred, especially in Paris where it had to change airlines, but I was lulled into a false sense of security by the ease with which my large checked bag had made it home. I had forgotten another flying maxim, “when everything seems to be going right, you are obviously missing something”.

I spent the weekend in Tirana because the Peace Corps medical officer had scheduled my close of service physical exam for Monday. This has to be done within 90 days of leaving and we wanted to use my travel through Tirana to get it out of the way. My friend, Catherine, from Permet, met me at the airport to help with the large box that never came. With my still limited Albanian, I filed a missing baggage claim with the lost luggage office at the airport. Early the next morning I emailed Delta and Malev airlines to ask for help. On Monday, I talked with the Peace Corps staff and enlisted their help as well. I fretted as each day passed and I heard nothing.

Catherine and I celebrated Valentine’s Day under this cloud. We went to a wonderful Italian restaurant in the trendy Bloku district of Tirana and went to a French pastry shop for dessert not far from that. I left early the next morning to catch the bus back to Korca. There was no bus again, so I caught a furgon. Before I got to Elbasan I got a call that the box had been found, but was damaged. The Peace Corps staff was arranging for it to be delivered to them and they would bring it next weekend when they came for the Close of Service conference at the Hotel Grand in Korca beginning on Sunday. I worried if all the pieces would be there or if it would still function.

Safety

The Peace Corps Safety Officer for Albania sent out an email to the volunteers advising us that there was a program scheduled to air on ABC television that would feature a story on murder and sexual assault of Peace Corps volunteers. She warned it might elicit concerned messages from home. My service group had already been touched by the story of the murder of a volunteer in Africa when three days after arriving in Albania one young woman left for home. The explanation was that her parents were concerned about her safety after hearing the news from Benin. Her befuddled host family worried if it was something they did or said.

I was able to watch the video at ABC online. It showed a group of young women, interviewed Oprah style while they sat on white stools of varying height. They tearfully related their stories of assaults and the callousness of the PC response. Then there were snippets of an interview with the current deputy director of the Peace Corps. She came across as defensive and uncaring. I am certain she had no say in how the broadcast was edited.

Now, I have pretty low expectations of the Peace Corps bureaucracy. It is an agency of the federal government, after all. I also have low expectations of television. ABC exposing a story on risks of mistreatment of Americans, especially young woman, in the third world is like NASCAR doing an expose about how high school driver’s ed doesn’t do enough to educate young people about the dangers of speeding.

The Peace Corps does have a safety officer for each country (ours is an Albanian national) and a regional safety director (an American, who happens to be based in Tirana). Sometimes their advice isn’t the most useful, but I don’t think they are unconcerned or uncaring. We have had safety lectures at all of our conferences, including videos on risks of sexual assault and robbery. They have pulled volunteers from uncomfortable situations and reassigned them, either in their community or in another location within the country. We were advised from the outset that most of our security comes from local friends and neighbors who look out for us. Most of us also have site mates who can be called upon to help. Is that so different from many places in the US? Can we rely on quick and effective response from authorities in cases of harassment or domestic disputes at home?

The ABC story, of course, didn’t mention any of that. It didn’t talk about safety programs or staff. It didn’t mention site mates as potential help. It didn’t provide any perspective as to the length of time that was included in their story or the number of volunteers at risk. I have read that one in four women reports a history of sexual assault at college. Is serving in a community in a developing country riskier than that?

ABC should see how American media portrays our culture to the third world. Excessive sex and violence must seem like the norm in America. The media is quick to blame intemperate speech when a madman shoots innocent people outside a store in Tucson, but doesn’t recognize the risk of its own intemperance influencing the behavior of people abroad. Countering that impression is one of the good, and, unfortunately, sometimes brave things that Peace Corps volunteers do.

Does it really require the investigative might of ABC News to show that federal bureaucracy is insensitive and inept, or that young women tear up when they relate details of sexual assault? Did the ABC newsperson think, as he rode in his limo from his tony suburban enclave through neighborhoods much more dangerous than a third world slum, that a thorough investigation would include going to Bangladesh to interview young men on the street who would rape a young American Peace Corps volunteer or condone those who did? Did he think about meeting their families or learning about their culture and community? Did he think about what he or ABC News could do to change that?

That doesn’t excuse the PC for a lack of sensitivity and compassion in dealing with the women in the story. I have not been impressed with what I have personally seen of how the bureaucrats deal with volunteers with physical injuries, but, as I said, having seen bureaucrats in “action” over the years, I am not surprised. I would think a better response from the deputy director of the Peace Corps would have been to acknowledge the problem and to cite investigations and remedies that had been undertaken. Perhaps she did, but ABC edited it out.

My general impression is that the Peace Corps is well intentioned, but often confused and misdirected. Yet it is almost unique among American institutions in its approach to the world. It is not trying to convert or pacify. It does not spread American largesse. It is simply an effort to meet the larger world on a one-to-one basis, a world where there are incredible inequities and challenges, to get to know them and they us, and to help, a bit, if we can. It sends mostly young people with the time, education and inclination to volunteer, and, a few oldsters, as well.

I think the ABC News story, on the occasion of the 50th anniversary year of the founding of the Peace Corps, was a cheap shot. But it does not take an investigative team to figure out that television is superficial and self-serving. Maybe the problem is not that Big Brother is watching us, but that so many people around the world are watching “Big Brother”.

ADDENDUM: The Friday after I posted this, a large protest was held by the opposition party in the capital, Tirane. The Country Director of Peace Corps, Albania, arrived in Korce Thursday evening on a tour to videotape volunteers in my group and their counterparts, talking about volunteer activities and the impact on their communities. This is a project he is doing as part of the 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps to show incoming volunteers at Pre-Service Training for Group 14. So far, 45 have accepted and are due to arrive mid March. He was traveling with the regional Peace Corps Safety Officer, who covers the Mediterranean and the Middle East. There was also a college freshman from Ohio who was doing a short term internship in Tirane. She was acting as the camera person. It was hard for me to pick among my various counterparts, but Isufi was eager to talk and Jani showed up to talk, as well. We had dinner with another volunteer on Thursday and they asked me if I wanted to come along as they visited other volunteers in the region. It was a chance to visit others in my region and see what they were doing as well as spend the weekend with friends. Also, they were buying meals and coffee at each stop. We even got to stop at a couple of tourist sites along the way which I had previously only seen from the window of a bus. It seemed like a good deal to me.

They were aware of the protest and were concerned about possible violence and further escalation. They made sure all the volunteers were out of Tirane, except the one who was there at a meeting related to a project. They phoned him to make sure he was safe. They closed the office early to make sure all the staff was able to get home before the protest began in the early afternoon.

It was estimated that about 20,000 people took part in the protest. Almost as soon as it started there were conflicts between both sides with rocks and sticks thrown by the protesters at the police who stood in a line behind plastic shields around government buildings and responded with rubber bullets, stun and smoke grenades. Live bullets were fired by someone identified as a security guard for one building. A protester from Gjirokaster was killed. Video of this was shown repeatedly on television. Two others also died and many injured protesters and police were taken to hospitals. The Prime Minister announced an investigation. The opposition party leader condemned the government response. The President appealed for restraint and calm.

Throughout the drive, the Country Director and the Safety Officer stayed in frequent contact with volunteers and staff. Emails and SMS messages were sent to all members of the Peace Corps in Albania. Reports were filed with the "country desk" at Peace Corps headquarters in Washington. Things seemed to have settled down in the capital and unrest has not spread to other parts of the country. We hope it stays that way.

It turned colder and rained throughout the night. Snow closed the road back to Korce and the bus home was canceled. Few roads are plowed in Albania so I am planning on an early start in the morning to take a series of buses and furgons for the long, circuitous alternative route through Elbasan. Since I am the warden for our region, I made sure the alternate knew my status. He has a key to my apartment where we keep extra water and food in case we need to gather there for potential evacuation as they had to do during general anarchy in 1997. Isufi also offered his home as a refuge, if needed. I think we are taken care of.

A Year in Albania

Actually, I have now been in Albania almost 22 months of my 27 month Peace Corps term of service. However, since I arrived in March of 2009 and finish in May of 2011, 2010 is the only full year I will have spent in the country during my stay. New Year’s marked the end of that year, and so, seemed momentous.

Not that I dislike Albania, quite the contrary. In many ways it is a charming country, its people are extraordinarily hospitable, and it is interesting and scenic. Except for being pretty cold in the winter, somewhat confused by the language and the culture, and sometimes discouraged by the degree of pollution and corruption, that in reality is not bad for a developing country (or for some cities in the US for that matter), I could imagine myself on extended vacation in the mountains of Italy on the other side of the Adriatic. I feel a bit like a friend of mine whose military service during most of the war in Vietnam was as an aide, scheduling tennis matches for a general in Germany.

I had 19 volunteers through my apartment over the holidays. On Christmas morning we passed out presents around a small tree while we listened to a music cd titled “Krishtlindje Ne Tirane” (“Christmas in Tirana”) that I had found in the Peace Corps office. Presents were pretty simple; candy bars, small bags of coffee, a knitted shawl, used books, some costume jewelry, etc. We made homemade bagels for breakfast, served with cream cheese, prosciutto, tomatoes and lettuce. 13 volunteers were crammed into the place for Christmas dinner. There was hardly elbow room, but the pot luck dinner was great; roast chicken, Swedish meat balls, mashed potatoes, candied carrots, a walnut salad, chocolate cake, macaroons and apple pie. Albanian wine and beer was also available for those who imbibe. Someone even brought Starbucks Christmas blend coffee to go with the desserts (one of my prized possessions is a 12 cup coffee maker I inherited from a previous volunteer).

On Boxing Day, December 26th, we rented the minibus that is used by the Soqata for their excursions, and a group of volunteers went to the ski area at Bigell and to the picturesque village of Dardhe, in the mountains not far from the city. There was snow, and although not enough for skiing, there was enough for a snowball fight and other snow play. A few sat in the day lodge to drink and keep warm while the rest went into the village. The old stone houses are mostly renovated along steep cobblestoned lanes. There are a few new ones, even a multi-unit building that may be condos, and a magnificent new hotel with a view on a clear day into Greece.

We went into a coffee shop to warm up and ran into a volunteer from a previous group who was visiting over the holidays. I had just had an email from her from Guyana where she is working as a HIV educator as part of Peace Corps Response, a newer organization spun off from the regular Peace Corps, which uses special skills of returned Peace Corps volunteers for short term projects. She was happy to be back in Korca, where she felt safe and among old friends. Her work in Guyana is in a jungle village and there are parts of the area where she is cautioned from travel for reasons of safety.

We attended several of the many events in Korca that were scheduled for the holidays. One was a dance recital at the Cajupi Theater. Our ticket stubs were included in a drawing for prizes. I was glad we didn’t win any of the toys, and the microwave, which I could have used, was kept for the drawing that would happen with the next day’s performance. The kids ranged in age from around four to young teens. Sometimes they would lip sync to performances that we figured were prerecorded, although one number was clearly the Jackson 5.

Santa Claus arrived in Korca in a carriage, pulled by a pony, up Republika Boulevard, attended by children in Santa hats who passed out candy and post cards. He had some difficulty due to the construction that is going in the square in front of the movie theater (which has been inoperative for about two years and still advertises its last film, “Terminator 3”), and the traffic along the street which did not want to yield, despite Santa’s police escort. This event was at midday on December 30. If this seems late, don’t forget that the Orthodox tradition celebrates Christmas on January 6th.

New Year’s we were invited to the home of my neighbors Titi and Miranda. Keeping up what amounts to a Peace Corps, Albania, tradition, I tutor their daughter, Iris, in English. Their small apartment was warm, heated by a wood stove. Miranda put on a fantastic spread which she had cooked on it. This included turkey, steak, potatoes, eggplant, peppers, hard boiled eggs, salad, cheese, cake and baklava (which is a traditional New Year’s food and is usually homemade- I was served it several times over the holiday, including three times on New Year’s Day).

New Year’s is the big holiday here. The communist regime discouraged religious celebrations and made Christmas a regular work day. Some Albanians still call a Christmas tree a “New Year’s Tree”, and many visit on January 1st and 2nd, which are both holidays, giving gifts to mark the day. At midnight, Korcans gathered in the square in front of the Cathedral for the annual fireworks free-for-all. Afterwards, Titi chaperoned Iris as she went to a party with her friends at one of the local discos. We went home as they left for the fireworks. I still have PTSD from last year’s fireworks.

In the afternoon, we took a furgon to Elbasan to do some visiting of our own with our host families back in Thane. Everyone was doing well. The sister of the girl whose wedding we attended in 2009 is now engaged to a boy from the same town as her sister’s husband. He works in Italy. The older boy in my family has been studying English in school and is getting to the point that his English is much better than my Shqip. His family now has five cows and a donkey. The mother goes into Elbasan every other day to sell her milk products. As I walked up to their house, the father was driving a donkey cart full of fodder for the animals. He also continues to work construction jobs in the area. He and his mother had plans to leave for Italy on January 3rd to visit his brother who has lived and worked there for years. The recent liberalization of visa requirements for Albanian visits to the Eurozone countries has made this possible. I am still hoping the boys will find time to visit me in Korca, maybe for some winter skiing or for Easter. Of course, we had to eat baklava and drink coffee at each house. So far, we agree that Isufi’s wife, Flora, wins the prize for the best homemade baklava.

I was back at work at the Public Health Department on Tuesday morning and helped haul in wood for the small stove which heats the office. Most of the nurses and lab technicians were still on vacation. Preca started up again on January 6th, but only for a half day. My tutorial classes went on Monday and Wednesday afternoons and the aviation interest group started up at the library again on Thursday. Dr. Isufi moved into his new building. The concrete is still drying and the windows, mirrors and walls were covered with condensation. I hope it doesn’t grow mold, which is a problem in some buildings.

Also, on January 6th was the “cross toss” into water to mark the 12th day of Christmas for the Orthodox Church. Hundreds gathered around a fountain in the plaza to the north of the Cathedral steps. A few beggars worked the crowd and there were vendors selling candles and icons. A carpet covered platform had been erected on one side of the pool. At 11 AM, the bells began peeling from the twin towers that frame the entrance of the church and a procession of ornately clad priests and their acolytes emerged from the side of the building. One carried a large basin of holy water which was liberally sprinkled over the people. Once on the platform, as some of the priest sang hymns, the remainder of the water was poured into the water in the fountain. Then the head priest tossed a golden cross into the pool. Almost before it hit the water, young men along the side jumped in and the cold and sodden victor climbed up the side to the priest, who blessed him. He also receives about $40, good luck for the year and gets to keep the cross at home for a few months. After the ceremony, many people filled up water bottles from the pool to sprinkle around their homes to give them good fortune in the New Year. I have heard that in Berat, another city in a valley to the west of Korca, the priest throws the cross into the river. I hope whoever retrieves it gets more than $40.

The low clouds and wood smoke make Korca seem even colder than it is. I am back in my long johns and down sleeping bag and staying close to my space heater. It is winter, after all. I am leaving for a brief visit home at the end of the month. Some friends sent me photos of McCall, which is covered with about three feet of snow in town and about six feet in the mountains. In spite of that, when I look at pictures of home, it engenders warm feelings within.