Down Memory Lane...

Monic (Chounramani) Kraft
and Laure (Souvannavong-Drouot) Chessin

I was in France and Luxemburg having a good old time.  I drove so much.  I was constantly on the road visiting someone somewhere.  When I took the car back to the airport, the woman at the desk said, “You drove a lot.”  Hello? Isn’t that what I was supposed to do, drive? I guess she is not used to seeing over 10 thousand kilometers driven in a month and a half.  It is France, after all.

I hooked up with friends I had not seen in ages.  When I said in ages, I really mean in ages like as far back as 1972.  I went to Normandy to meet my childhood friend Monic.  We were teenagers, growing up in Laos together.  She was eighteen when she married Ken and left.  I was devastated to see my one and only friend leaving me behind.  As soon as she was gone, I resigned from the Colombo Plan Hospital where we were both working as nurses.  Eventually, I married Barnett and started my own travels, moving around Laos first, then, after the fall of Vietnam, we left in 1975, and I never looked back.  I never found the need to go back to Laos either, probably because we lost everything, life went on, and we moved on. 

In 1972 Barnett took our daughter Isabelle and I to visit Kent and Monic in London, that was the last time I saw her.  It would be impossible to put into words what my visit to Monic was like this time.  Let us say that when we saw each other we were laughing, laughing and laughing; and we just couldn’t stop laughing.  We hugged and laughed, laughed and hugged.  My driver was looking at us as if we had gone crazy, so was her husband.  Having a feeling of how things were going to develop between these two crazy childhood friends, her husband decided to leave us the house.  We talked until the birds were singing the first night.  We actually went to bed around 6:00 AM.  The second night, her sister joined us and we talked until 4:00 AM.  The third night we did the same thing.  We laughed, and reminisced about the good old times, we danced, and talked a lot about us when we were teenagers and how we used to get into trouble.

I came to the Oasis Reunion and met Jean-François.  He is amongst so many I left behind when I left Mauritania back in the 80s and have never again contacted any of them until now.  Such a bad habit of mine; leaving, and never looking back.  Again, it was spending time reminiscing about the good old days; numerous outings, restaurants, and just hooking up with other friends.  It was just wonderful, too wonderful to describe in only one page.  Unlike our parents’ time, facebook and the modern technologies are just great engines to find long lost friends.

The Foreign Service has one of the highest divorce rates as an occupation.  It is difficult for spouses to move around; not finding work, or just taking on whatever comes along.  It is tough on children as well.  As for me, I turned the situation around to my advantage.  I made life as a spouse in the Foreign Service something positively appealing.  I had an intensive and interesting career moving around Africa.  I was traveling around on my own, taking short assignments here and there.  And when I came home, I had my family.  Now, What I often hear are complaints; and it is much harder for male spouses.  I would hear, “I had a job and now I have nothing.”  Granted that life is not easy following someone around; but life doesn’t have to be hard either. 

In 2003 to celebrate Barnett’s retirement and his new assignment as a Contractor in Afghanistan, I arranged a picnic in our backyard with over 80 people coming from all over the Washington, D.C. suburban area.  It was interesting trying to introduce everyone.  Elle, meet Jack.  We knew Jack in Laos in 1970; and Elle and I worked in DS (Diplomatic Security) together.  Mike, meet Felix.  We met Felix in Chad in 1990 and so on, and so on.  People we worked with in Somalia.  Our friend Omar was also there.  We met Omar in 1976 in Kabul.  Omar introduced us to those absolutely out of this world picnics at Paghman; horseback riding; the musicians; the Afghan dances and all those other aspects of Afghan life we came to love before it was all destroyed.  And having one of the most prestigious composers writing a song about me was quite exciting.  Such an honor to be called “Black Diamond of Laos.”  I don’t remember the name of the mountain in the middle of Kabul cutting the town in half.  We used to live in Karte Char, and we used to shop in Chicken Street; and Barnett used to leave me at one end of the mountain and picked me up at the other end two or three hours later... I wonder where Anna and Andy, whom I met in Rwanda when I took a short TDY (Temporary Duty), could be.  


To make a long story short, I really have to arrange an unconventional type of reunion.  A reunion where everyone has someone they know somewhere, in some other assignment.  A reunion where someone can say, “Remember so and so from Dakar?. . .” for instance.  After living in over 30 Countries, and 60 major towns, not counting small towns in between, I don’t think that I can fit all the names of people I knew on one page.  Some I have vague memories of, such as the Frenchies from the Bureau d’Etudes I met in Chad; but I always remember events.  

One of the most memorable events was in Chad when Barnett asked me to marry him again; and this will have to be in another entry. 

Writing this for the B.L.O.G., I suddenly wonder where Marta, Julio and their four girls are.  Probably in Argentina; dancing the tango.  And Kim? Back in Puerto Rico? Who knows? 

Ryan darling, where are you? Are you ready to put up with this annoying guest? I sure hope so.

Elle, are you ready to share your apartment with this pushy sister of yours? Perhaps you are ready, but I am not sure about Hope...

And Polly my love, I will be in Chicago and you know we are going to have a great time doing nothing but talking, and talking... I still remember when I left the office in Dakar with you one afternoon without telling a soul where I was going and came home at 3:00 AM.  We talked and talked.  What were we talking about anyway? Barnett didn't even look for me, unbelievable... Polly, don't forget our date, we are going to Santa Fe and I hope soon.  I need to see the Staircases.