It Took a Village

I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Democratic Republic of Congo - back when it was still known as Zaire - teaching English at a high school in a small village that would come to change my life. At night, I would write by kerosene lantern about life in Kamponde: the weddings and funerals, the gossip and politics; the joys and frustrations of teaching; the attempted diamond bribes by some students, the marinating python dances and the freshly fermented calabashes of palm wine.

I wrote about the unrelenting kindness shown a young woman so far from home who really had no idea where she belonged in the world. It was in this village that I found my voice, one that would lead me to become a foreign correspondent for The Associated Press. When my two-year Peace Corps tour came to an end, I had promised to return and write about them one day.

I did. Twice. The first time was 15 years later and that story was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. But readers were not privy to the greater personal impact of that trip. When the village women learned my husband and I had failed for years to conceive, they prayed and chanted to their gods to bring us a child, as we danced beneath the stars, shuffling and sashaying around a bonfire to the beat of the bamboo xylophones.

Six months later I was pregnant. I realized this as I was covering the downfall of the Congo's 32-year dictator, President Mobutu Sese Seko. Chris and I escaped the rebel forces approaching Kinshasa by crossing the Congo River in a dugout canoe.

Now, more than 30 years after serving in that village, I am planning to return to Kamponde with my daughter to thank them, have her blessed and say a final farewell.

I am writing a memoir about this connection to Kamponde, and this is the draft of Chapter One. If any dear readers would like to join my Kickstarter Campaign to raise money for the journey back to Kamponde, you can link here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1654874900/it-took-a-village-a-memoir