Ordered departure
The embassy security alerts began hitting my inbox before 7 a.m.
0643: Do [sic] to a changing security situation and local contacts expecting protests today, ALL personnel, except for essential LE Staff as designated by their supervisor, should remain at home today…If you have already departed for the facility, please arrive by 0730.
0705: If you have already arrived at a facility, you are required to stay. DO NOT leave a facility to return home. No further movements of any kind are authorized without RSO approval. If you are driving to work now, immediately go to either an embassy facility or your residence, whichever is closer. TASOK school buses are returning children to their residences. Children should not be at school today.
I looked out over the city from the south-facing window of my hotel room and saw smoke rising in the distance. I snapped a photo of a fire in front of the Chancery a few blocks away. I accepted a calendar invite for “Meeting_Touch Base_USDH” at 1435 that afternoon. My colleagues stateside asked me to confirm that I would practice my CROI presentation at an upcoming division meeting. I just got an email saying my travel to CROI has been canceled, I responded. Are we really still doing these presentations?
0958: Large protests are occurring at the Chancery and JAO. Protests are expected throughout the day at Embassy compounds and throughout the city. All personnel must REMAIN in their current locations (in their residential compound or Embassy compound) with NO movements permitted.
We had another accountability drill shortly after lunch. Disease Detective, Safe, Hilton. “Meeting_Touch Base_USDH” was a State Department call with the ambassador, who explained that multiple embassies had been attacked that day and that the U.S. government was preparing for a formal ordered departure of all non-essential staff. She explained that we would be evacuated in tranches according to residence, that we would be taken with a go-bag to a safe house, and from there transported to Brazzaville across the Congo River. She emphasized that people should only pack essentials, and that each family member would have an allowance of one go-bag. Pets could replace a person’s go-bag if necessary. When she warned that any pets beyond that allowance would have to be left behind, I started to cry.
While I was safe in my hotel room, USAID foreign service officers and their families grappled with the possibility that the US government might abandon them:
One foreign service officer…said he feared for his and his family’s safety amid widespread protests in Kinshasa, including at the US embassy and outside his home on January 28.
He detailed challenges he and other staff faced – including one colleague whose house was set on fire and “lost all their belongings to looting” – and recounted being told that “any spending not directly approved” by the agency’s acting administrator could be considered defying the administration’s orders.
“I began to feel an intense sense of panic that my government might fully abandon Americans working for USAID in Kinshasa,” [he] said.
[…]
Another foreign service officer…detailed…“the trauma” of exiting Kinshasa in the middle of the night with three young children and having to leave his dog.
Half an hour after the call with the ambassador, the CDC country team held a call. The country director summarized the call with the ambassador and took questions, but then he had to drop off for another meeting. He tried to pass it to his deputy. “I can’t talk,” she shouted. “We are sheltering in a room in the back of the JAO with about 75 other people. There are protestors out front.” The call ended abruptly. I sat at the desk in my hotel room with the realization that my deployment was over. I was about to be evacuated.
1626: Local staff are now authorized to depart the Chancery and JAO compounds. U.S. Direct Hires will be returned to their residences by Motor Pool armored vehicles. Please wait for more information on timing. The shelter-in-place is still in effect. All personnel must remain in their residential compounds. Please prepare and pack your go-bags. Reach out to Post One in case of an emergency.
I laid a towel across the bed, pulled my full-sized suitcase and my roller carry-on onto it, and spent the rest of the afternoon packing. Dirty gym clothes in the big suitcase. Silk scarves in the go-bag. Shoes in the big suitcase. Underwear in the go-bag. For every one of my possessions, I had to ask myself how I would feel if I never saw it again. My inbox was inundated. “What action should we take to support the departure of our two Mpox deployers, or does the Embassy coordinate all return travel at this point?” “The charter from Brazzaville will head to DC. For those who prefer to arrange their own flight from Brazzaville, please confirm to me urgently and in the next 10 mns and I will send the information on behalf of CDC.” One deployer was not getting the embassy alerts. I got an automated email notifying me that my boss had submitted my 2025 performance plan on my behalf. I confirmed that I would be on the charter flight to DC. I finished packing, dressed comfortably for a potential evacuation, and flopped down on the bed. On a whim, I took a selfie to capture the moment. I was shocked at how visible my gray hairs were.
I joined a call, which had been scheduled the week prior, with a colleague working on the response from CDC’s Atlanta headquarters. She was shocked to learn that my deployment was being cut short due to the ordered departure. “That’s so scary!” she exclaimed. “Have you ever deployed overseas before?” Nope, I said wryly, and laughed. This is my first international assignment. “I am so sorry to hear that,” she replied. “This is not a typical deployment!”
2058: We are moving to an Ordered Departure status for Mission DRC. Stay at home and prepare to evacuate via boat to Brazzaville. We will be evacuating in tranches across the Congo River, starting tonight around 2am. We may pause during the day, and then resume again at a similar hour the following day. Everyone who has not been told by their section or agency that they are staying as part of emergency staffing should be prepared to evacuate tonight. The first tranche will find out if you’re leaving by 10 pm—it will be organized by residence.
I called my husband and explained what was happening. He peppered me with questions I had no answers for, panic rising in his voice. I texted my teammates and a few friends. Cross-talking emails kept hitting my inbox, as other deployers changed travel plans and my team lead scrambled to find a flight to Atlanta in time for his son’s high school graduation. I paced back and forth in my room, waiting for the notice to evacuate.
The evacuation instructions for that night went out at 2238, listing mostly residential complexes. Our hotel was not on the list. I emailed the deputy country director. If Hotel Hilton is not on the list, does that mean we can sleep? “Yes,” she replied. The fear of falling asleep and being left behind had crept in. I would not sleep soundly for the next three days.
This is the fourth installment of a multi-part series on a Section member’s deployment to, and evacuation from, the Democratic Republic of the Congo while on an emergency response assignment with the CDC. All views expressed here are the author’s own personal perspective and do not reflect the position of their employer or the U.S. government.
IH CONNECT 