This is it, Sanguéré-Paul. This is goodbye.

About a year ago, I was in my kitchen preparing for my Peace Corps adventure.  My dad said, "hey, did you here about this Boko Haram group that just bombed a church or school in Nigeria?"  I responded, "but that's in Nigeria, Dad.  I won't have to worry about stuff like that, I'll be in the magical land of Cameroon!"

Sitting around the table waiting for lunch yesterday at the Salon du Thé in Garoua, our stomachs suddenly became unsettled when the name "Lindsey" flashed up on Santina's cellphone.  This was it:  this was the call we've been dreading.

Santina stepped outside, while the rest of us quickly brainstormed any possible reason for Admin to call, anything other than the one reason that we knew to be true, the one reason we feared.

Rejoining us inside, Santina muttered the words no one wanted to hear: "we're getting closed."  She handed the phone to Ampson, then me, and then Kevin, so that we could each have our turn to hear the news directly.  Suddenly I no longer wanted the omelet and avocado that sat in front of me.

Each Wednesday, Peace Corps Admin meets with the Security Council at the Embassy to discuss our safety as volunteers at our various posts in Cameroon.  The North region has been on thin ice for a while now.  We were informed about a month ago that the vote was 5 to 4 to keep us open.  The risks posed by Boko Haram were simply becoming too high.  We knew with a count like this, it was only one more incident until the scales shifted against us.

Boko Haram, a terrorist organization whose name roughly translates to "Western education is a sin", has been becoming increasingly active over the past few years in Nigeria and Northern Cameroon.

The first round of Peace Corps post closures began before I even arrived in Cameroon, after Boko Haram kidnapped a French family in Waza.  With this first incident, the entire Extreme North and some volunteers in the North were relocated.  

But Boko didn't stop there.  Since the kidnapping of the family in Waza, there have been countless more kidnappings and brutal attacks.  You may be familiar with the slogan #BringBackOurGirls, which came about after Boko Haram kidnapped over 230 school girls from Chibok, Nigeria.  Boko has also been responsible for the kidnapping of a French priest, two Italian priests and a Canadian nun, and several Chinese workers.  This is not to forget the countless number of lives taken during attacks against Nigerians and Cameroonians.

As Boko Haram continued wreaking havoc, and as that havoc continued to spread across the border into Cameroon, one by one, more posts were closed.  When I arrived in Garoua in November, the North had 19 volunteers.  We are now at 14 (two of whom had already been relocated to Garoua from different posts in the North/Extreme North).  Peace Corps was hoping to keep the rest of us up here for now, while maintaining a low profile, until eventually it was safe to increase our numbers and reopen old posts.   

Though I have never once felt threatened in my community, that doesn't mean the risks don't exist.  I remember once on a bus ride from Ngaoundéré to Garoua, a stone fell off the back of a truck in front of us, shattering the window of our bus.  After realizing we were all safe, the man sitting next to me said (in French) "Shit! I thought that was Boko Haram coming for us!"  During another bus ride, we were stopped at a checkpoint so that police could check our IDs.  One passenger could not find his.  The entire bus agreed, "let's leave him behind.  We don't know who he is or where he's coming from.  Even we, the Cameroonians, are scared for our security."  No matter how safe I feel in my village, no matter how many of my neighbors are looking out for me, I cant pretend that living in the North is without risk.

Unfortunately, with the most recent incident (the kidnapping of the Vice Prime Minister’s wife as well as a village chief and his family), the security risks are simply becoming too high.

I appreciate the way that Peace Corps is handling the situation.  With a few of the past closures, volunteers were informed of their own post closure via other volunteers (gossip travels like wildfire here).  For us, the last Northies standing, Admin ensured that we were the first to hear the news, even before other PC staff.  We have nearly two weeks to wrap up our final projects, pack our belongings, and say our goodbyes.  I have even already been presented with two new post options (neither of which I have accepted yet, simply because neither of them could ever be like my home here in Sanguéré-Paul). 

Now all that I can do is make the most of my remaining 11 days here in my beloved village of Sanguéré-Paul.  I’ll be meeting with various women’s groups for some last minute consultations on their project plans, teaching my friend how to make a compost, and showing some neighbors how to make tofu.  Other than that, there’s not much I can do but sit and enjoy the couscous and good company.  

This is it, Sanguéré-Paul.  This is goodbye.