Friday, January 29, 2016

Three Stitches. Two Armed Robberies. One Year Later.


To be adjusting to my life in the States–along with the chilly winter weather—seems surreal. Just last month, I lived under the squelching Caribbean sun, embracing the colorful Colombian culture and Spanish language.

In the comfort and safety of my own home, I reflect on the challenges of the past year and the strength that I gained in facing them.

Some difficult events made an impact on my experience, but I strived not to allow them to define the entire year. Completing my purpose in Barranquilla was essential, regardless of the moments when I wanted to quit.

Twice during the span of six months, I was robbed at gunpoint.

In January, just days after my initial arrival in Barranquilla, I rode the bus home from school at noon. When two armed robbers entered the bus from the back door, I failed to notice their presence. I was seated in the front of the bus and focused on learning my route. When I did not immediately respond to their demands, they hit me and took my backpack.

Nothing of value was stolen, but the thieves injured me. The gracious passengers of the bus helped escort me to the nearest clinic where I got three stitches in my hairline above my left eyebrow. 

As I sat in the clinic fighting the tears, I told the nurses and curious Colombians who were observing the situation that I wanted to be with my mom. They responded, "We're your mom right now." They bought me soup and cleaned my body of blood, sweat, and tears.

Following this occurrence, I carried my phone and cash tucked inside my shirt or waistband. I wore my house key tied to my wrist. I avoided carrying a bag at all measures. When I did carry a cheap, reusable grocery sack, nothing more than necessary was inside of it. I was quite prepared for the unlikely event of another incident, but a second robbery did happen in late July.

Two other Americans and I were standing outside the home of another volunteer. We had just returned from an evening at the movie theater and my friend was searching in her bag for her key. Two masked men on a motorcycle approached us, bearing a gun and demanding our bags.

As a result of what happened, I experienced times of extreme caution where I became overwhelmed or uneasy in new situations. Countless times did my heart race when I heard the quick-paced footsteps of a morning jogger behind me...or make eye contact with a man innocently crossing my path on a sidewalk.
Most Colombians have a story about the time that they (or a family member) were robbed. Oppositely, I know of many Americans who have lived in Colombia for years and nothing ever happened to them. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In spite on these incidents, my love for Colombia is profound. Nearly everyone I encountered projected a compassionate, lively spirit that captured my heart.

I would absolutely repeat the year. I would not change a single second of my experience. Each person and every moment played a unique role in this journey. Some moments increased my gratitude for the overall security of my life within the States.

I share these stories because I believe they are important. Many details were excluded for the sake of space, but I believe that everything happens for a reason and that now is the time for me to tell of these experiences (perhaps for the benefit of others, or simply the sake of myself).

After the second robbery, I bought a plane ticket home. I had talked to several family members and friends and decided to count my losses and return to the States. I packed my bags and spent the remainder of my Colombian pesos on street food and a soccer jersey. I spent the night before my flight at a pizzeria with other volunteers. In that moment, I felt a restlessness and lack of closure when I should have felt relief.

I was not made to quit.

During that evening, I made countless phone calls in the backroom of a corner "tienda" and emerged with a new resilience. I scurried home and called United Airlines. They changed my flight for only $5 and I received this as a sign that I was, indeed, meant to stay. Not all of the following days were easy, but they taught me a strength, peace, and determination that I had never quite experienced.

I am thankful that I stayed. I am thankful for every day. I am thankful for the people who demonstrated patience with and kindness to me (whether or not they understood the context of my daily highs and lows).

I can say with confidence, once again, that I would absolutely repeat the year.