I know I am COSing in two weeks, and that a third of the PCVs are also leaving in a month and a half this summer, and that this happens every summer, and that throughout the year half a dozen people will drop out for reasons of their own, but to lose Lindsay Toler is not just a shock, but also a damn shame and possibly the death sentence for Hai Davai.
From the last:
Hai Davai is the effort we make in PC Moldova to sate creative urges and voice things we all have interest in. That is: Responsible reporting off set by Onion-esque humor and augmented by sex/gossip columns and plenty of Moldovan photography. For the last year, Toler has been the managing editor since she is one of the two pro journalists. The other pro was the founding and head editor. With Josh the founder COSing this summer, Toler was set to take over... Now who will run the boat away from the shoals of mediocrity and ice bergs of death?
Toler is, as can be surmised by this appointment, is a highly motivated individual who truly has her shit together. Also, she is blonde and has a great sense of humor—seeing like in like I think it's safe to say we were destined to be pals.
She was also destined to grit out the two years—so much so that she was one of the other people with me selected to give the Mental Health session to the trainees: ie. Had the mental and emotional capacity to withstand the pressures of PCV life—on a quantifiable and professionally judged level. It is unprecedented that she should someone to fold and leave the commitment early.
We thought the same about Bethany, and later, Casey. Bethany, to date, has not given sufficient reason for ETing that I know of. Casey coined the term “Pulling a Bethany” and only told 4 of us he was leaving. This was a little more than Bethany did (telling no one but staff--we found out she and her husband jetted in a email newsletter sent out by our Country Director Jeffery. So, we have to assume she didn't want us to know she was going, was a bit ashamed, or didn't like us... or something). Casey's reasons have panned out for the best. He got a responsible, high paying job with a contracting company competing for grants from USAID. This job even brought him out to Chisinau prospecting for two weeks. His objective to help recently family achieved.
Toler did not pull a Bethany even that much. She left the decision secret until 4 days prior then told everyone. Many tasty dates were arranged. She gave good reasoning: pancreas failure. A need to change sites half way through service because of new dietary needs; even with more well stocked village shops, she has to eat on a strict schedule with stricter needs than Kelsie's...it's a bit ludicrous.
Those tasty dates were, thus, encumbered.... no dairy etc. Pills were taken, pain was suffered, and Toler made it rain in the form of Nacho/Salsa manna from heaven.
Those were the nights. Days were spent unencumbering two year's worth of clothes, shoes, food, packing materials and accessories into the communal PCV pool of discarded goods. With the exception of a “cumpunga” incident of alien forces snatching Toler's goods without right, this was a joyfully rabid binge of third world fashion shows. Cowboy boots, Roma boots, elf boots, gold Toms, ballet slippers... the shoes were almost nothing compared to the glory of sun dresses, scarves, long underwear and snarky t-shirts. Rumor that Toler (delightful fashionista of the most surprising sort) had off-loaded her wardrobe spread like Ebola and enmaddened the minds of girls throughout Chisinau just as disastrously.
Little remained of Toler after that. A few choruses of “Landslide,” a few critiques of documentaries, three Beyonce video dance-alongs, and she was off on a plane back to the mystical land of socialite Dallas, Texas.
I woke up the next morning with nothing to do but hitch hike to Telenesti to play Dungeons and Dragons. I walked around the office listless. I updated some dragon stuff on Facebook, played with the air conditioner, gave a pee sample to medical—had a disturbing number of white blood cells, was proscribed Ciprol, stuck my head in rooms and, of course, checked the Loot Me pile of PCV discards. There, on a little shelf, still half full of water, was Toler's purple Nalgene. The bottle went with her everywhere, helping solidify the stereotype of Americans never leaving without water. It has a cute yellow owl sticker over the Nalgene logo.
I did not cry, though that would have been the moment for it. Instead I took the bottle. At the DnD rally I showed it. Lindsay Wing's response: “It seems to be my life goal to become Lindsay Toler, so you should leave that with me when you go.” I went to pour the water out and refresh the contents. Andy's response: “Nooooo! That is the last we HAVE of her!”
It's a 32 ounce bottle, and matches my Gir lanyard. I don't want to let it go.
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