Dec. 6, 1989, Kenye, Botswana. The day Millie and Dom Spezialy were sworn into the Peace Corps.
One of Millie Spezialy's art classes.
Field and track practice in Botswana. Millie Spezialy is still an avid athlete.
Dom Spezialy and one of his science classes.
Returning home to Alaska after serving with the Peace Corps in Botswana, Dom and I were often asked, "What was your most frightening experience in Africa?"
I didn't have to think too long to relive that fateful day. It wasn't the time a green mamba slithered into my classroom, or when a flash flood almost swept our car away as we attempted to cross the bridge into our village. And then there was the time an enormous bull elephant challenged our Volkswagen Beetle when we were caught in the midst of an elephant herd crossing the highway. No. It was something much worse.
The day had started on a high note as Dom and I packed for a camping trip into the Kalahari Desert during the national mid-winter school holiday. Friends planned to pick us up on the highway after I parked the car at Molepolole Teachers College.
It was a bright, beautiful morning when I dropped Dom and our bags at the roadside and drove the two miles into the college. An eerie silence greeted me as I stepped from the car. No sign of life anywhere. No crowing roosters, no ubiquitous barking dogs.
Never one to pass up a shortcut, I decided to walk back across the empty campus. The sun was bright on the purple blossoms covering the jacaranda trees and red poinsettia blooms. Spotting an ablution block, I decided to use it, not knowing when I'd get another opportunity.
I stepped into the toilet and closed the door. In the silence, the click was unusually loud. It wasn't until I'd used the facility that I realized the inner door handle was missing. I couldn't get out. Panic surged through me and although I wanted to shout, I knew no one would hear my screams. As I searched for a way to escape, I spotted the transom opening above the door. I was no agile youngster, at 55 and only 5-foot-2-inches tall. It seemed to mock me.
The thought of spending a month in the toilet spurred me into action. With one foot on the edge of the commode, I stuck my other foot into the hole where the door knob should be. Fingernails clutching the bottom of the transom, I managed to move my left foot onto a tiny ledge on the wall. Forcing myself upward, I somehow balanced my stomach over the transom. Headfirst, I inched myself down until I was able to twist the door knob and push open the door. With a sigh of relief, I crawled back across the transom and jumped to the floor, but my relief was short lived as my knee hit the door and I heard the "click" again. Tears filled my eyes as I looked up at the transom, which now appeared to be higher. I would have to climb again.
"I can do this, I can do this," I mumbled over and over. Trembling, I began to climb, until I hung precariously across the transom once more. After carefully nudging the door open I made sure to jump back, and in doing so, hit my knee on the commode. Blood spurted from the wound and dripped down my leg, but the door was open. Limping and disheveled, I made my way to the highway.
"What happened to you?" Dom asked, staring at my bloody knee.
"I took a shortcut," I replied.
Millie Spezialy is an Anchorage resident who spent time in the Peace Corps in Botswana between 1989 and 1992. She is a former teacher.
