The Foreign Service Journal, March 2008

MA R CH 2 0 0 8 / F OR E I GN S E R V I C E J OU R N A L 67 A F S A N E W S T here seems to be a misconception about the life of the Foreign Service family: we are a glamorous and carefree lot who circle the globe inour ball gowns and tuxes, cock- tails in hand. I never know if I should sigh, scream or giggle. Life inConakry, Guinea, our first post, was about as far from the cocktail circuit as one couldget. Our time there, forme, over- flowedwithself-doubt, a lotof loss, andtremendous joy. But glam- our —never. Everyday inGuinea, thedemonof amedical emergency con- stantly lurked. We had to hope to God it wouldn’t be a true emergency because, let’s face it, Pariswas a longwayaway. Atiny part of myself was consumed daily by fear because we had brought our young children into a malarial zone. LifeinGuineawassittingwith our housekeeper, Victoria, each time someone she loved died, feeling her utter frustration and anguish because the doctors were never able to tell her why. And it was the awe that I felt for her because, despite it all, shewas always joyful and kind. It was the children who would hold their tiny hands out to me, pinching their fingers to their mouths in the global sign for hunger; and itwasmyownsenseof profoundhelplessnessbecause I could never give them enough to change their lives. It waswatchingmy dog,Moya, die slowly andpainfully from a disease that we couldn’t cure, despite rounds of various med- ications, garbledphone calls tovets backhome, andcountless vis- its to local vets who had no idea what was killing her. It was sit- tingonour living roomcouch, staring listlessly intoour backyard throughswolleneyes,while threemencrematedourdog inametal tub because I couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving her body behind. I wandered around like a ghost for months after that, tangled up by grief because I loved her so much. Itwas thedifficultdecisionnot totakeanti-malarial drugswhen I became pregnant because, after a ton of research and conflict- ing advice, I just wasn’t certain enough that they wouldn’t harm our baby. And it was knowing that, if I did getmalaria, the baby and I could both die. It was boarding a plane with our 3-year-old daughter when I was 7 1 / 2 monthspregnant, having to leavemyhusbandand5-year- oldsonbehind. Andthen,threeweeksaftergivingbirthtoahealthy baby boy, having to say goodbye tomy husband and son again, because they had to go back to Guinea. It was weeks of orders to “stand fast,” not being able to go beyond our tall walls because of the violence on the other side. My children begged me to let them play soccer with the neigh- borhood children, to let them see their friends, and it broke my heart to always say no. Itwas, in the end, anordereddeparture. Our little family stood next to amilitary plane, feeling uncertain and scared, not know- ing when we would be together again. I watched as our children clung to their father, not under- standingwhywehad to leavehim behind. Guinea was a lot of loss and a lot of grief. Itwas alsous, as a fam- ily, listening todjembedrums and laughter from our back porch, knowing that ababyhad just been born, or a couple had just married. It was getting toknowpeople who, despite the pov- erty, live their lives with such grace, dig- nity and warmth that I was frequently re- mindedof howmuch I have to learn. When our daugh- ter was 2, she went through a phase of wearing nothing but her rain boots around the house and Victoria would laugh and say “Africanwoman!” andAisleenwould roarwith laughter. To this day when you ask Aisleen, who is now 4, where she is from she will tell you proudly: “I am fromGuinea, Africa!” Sometimes it takes the perspective of my children to remindme that living in Guinea was an honor, that we were given gifts and joys that we will never forget, and that, while we went through hardships, we are closer and stronger for it. The realityof our lives is thatwe are all nomads travelingwith our little families around the globe, our firmground travels with us, and we are a defining force unto ourselves. Our lives are not glamorous or easy, but they are truly incredible. Heather Harper-Troje, along with her husband Eric Turner and their three children, is settling in nicely at her family’s second post, Dublin — where she has yet to go to a cocktail party! FS VOICE: FAMILY MEMBER MATTERS BY HEATHER HARPER-TROJE The Way of the Diplomatic Princess Above: View of Nongo Port. Right: Kids playing in the neighborhood.