When life in a war zone tests US families
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Laprade was working on a food delivery program with CARE, and local people were "in really horrible shape nutritionally there at that time. It was one of these situations where you were morally compelled to stick it out."
But the dismal housing (they moved 12 times while in Angola) and the complete lawlessness in the streets at night made Laprade question whether a family should really be stationed there.
"We had an armed person come over the wall to our compound one time," Laprade says.
The final straw, however, was when his son was diagnosed with malaria. The local hospital was of no help, driving out of town wasn't an option, and because of rebel activity, supply planes refused to fly in.
"That's probably the worst situation I've ever been in in my entire life. It's a parent's worst nightmare," he recalls.
Laprade wondered if he made the right choice when he brought his family to a remote corner of Angola. "When you know that I didn't have to come here to begin with, you really wonder...," he says, trailing off, a tinge of pain still in his voice.
His experience made him compassionate toward refugees.
"[From] experiences like we had ... you realize, what people go through and understand their emotion," he says. "What we went through, it's not different than [what's experienced by] the millions of refugees around the world."
Betty Lou Hummel was writing a letter to her college roommate in 1979 when a rowdy group of men went by her residence in Islamabad, Pakistan. She thought it was a soccer team.
Mrs. Hummel, wife of then-US ambassador to Pakistan Arthur Hummel, didn't realize they were a Pakistani mob on their way to torch the US Embassy.
But at that moment, Mr. Hummel was on his way home for lunch. He had heard on the radio that there had been a seizure of the Grand Mosque in Mecca, and there was speculation (which turned out to be false) that the US was involved. He phoned the chancellery at the embassy and alerted them.
The attack touched off evacuations of diplomats from around the country. American families at US facilities in Peshawar and Lahore started arriving at the Hummel's residence.
"It was the day before Thanksgiving. We had a turkey, so I just had the cook go ahead and prepare the food," Hummel says.
Even without knowing how locals were going to react, she continued to go out after the attack.
"I went up to the bakery and got bread," she says. "I suppose I was in a state of shock, but things had to be done."
Before and after the attack, she continued to wear the salwar kameez, the long tunic that Pakistanis wear. "I didn't want to stand out," Hummel says. "We'd been in the Foreign Service long enough [that] it was my feeling that we were guests in these countries, and we do what is appropriate to their country, according to the custom."
The burning of the embassy brought the families together, and showed how US employees and their families rely on one another for support when abroad.
"Everyone was in a state of shock. I think everyone was handling things the best he or she could, including the children," Hummel says.
The State Deptartment flew all of the diplomatic families back to Virginia, where they stayed together in an apartment complex. They could then decide if they wanted to stay there or return to their US homes. To build a sense of community, the workers set up a newsletter and secured an office. Diplomats still working in Pakistan sent their families information about life there.
The community feeling the families built had a healing effect. She still feels it years after her husband's retirement from the diplomatic service.
"I think we were being able to be of support and help to one another and move on with our lives," Hummel says. "My feeling at the end of all of this and when we returned is how much stronger we all were - and, as a community, how much more cohesive we were."
