RUE student left Baghdad vowing to get an education
He locked the door every night to avoid being discovered sleeping in the crowded storage room where he worked.
For nearly a year, Darren Jorgensen, now a Brown student, lived illegally in the Baghdad offices of the United Nations Special Commission, where he worked as an administrative assistant. He had abandoned a hotel room and the emotional ordeal of the twice-daily trips past throngs of destitute children living on the streets and begging for food.
"After six months I really wanted to leave," Jorgensen said of Iraq, where economic sanctions imposed after the Gulf War in 1991 have left many without food, medicine and basic goods. "I was so horrified by the dead-end of life I saw there that when I got back I had to make something out of my life."
College Hill is a long way from the gaunt children of Baghdad, but it is an
even longer way for a boy who grew up on welfare. As a child, Jorgensen
attended eight different schools and had been advised to learn a trade at a
technical college after high school. Instead, he drifted from job to job until
a friend told him about an opening for a messenger at the U.N. in September
1994.
By the time Jorgensen (left) had been hired by the U.N., he had moved from his native
Canada to New York City, from one low-paying job at a convenience store to
another stocking shelves in a bakery. And the position seemed promising - early
on, he moved into a better post in the publications division. But shortly
after, lack of funding threatened to eliminate that position. The only
available opening was in Iraq and Jorgensen took it. "I had a real job and
thought I'd better hold on to it or else I'd end up slinging Snapple again."
When Jorgensen first walked off the plane in the Middle East, the heat slammed
against him like a brick. Wreckage of buildings and planes left by the Gulf War
littered the dry and dusty area.
Jorgensen was assigned to the Baghdad Monitoring and Verification Centre
(BMVC), where he responded to the needs of teams of weapons inspectors,
coordinating their cars and drivers.
He was also required to live in an Iraqi-sanctioned hotel. Driving through the
city at night to get to the hotel was treacherous, he said. Darkness cloaked
vast swatches of the city in an effort to conserve energy, which was in short
supply. Sometimes Jorgensen knew other cars were on the street only when they
cast sparks as the decrepit vehicles scraped against the ground. Drivers rarely
used their headlights because replacement bulbs were unavailable.
Whenever his car came to a stop, children would immediately surround it to beg.
The same children would always be on the same streets, Jorgensen said.
"I know what it's like to feel in a dead end, and it would break my heart to
feel like these kids feel their life is a dead end," said Jorgensen. "The sun
beats down mercilessly and the kids would be on the asphalt street with no
shoes on ... kids who should be in school."
He began living in the BMVC, sleeping in the storage room, showering in the
gym, storing food in the office refrigerator, and looking for a transfer back
to the United States. All the while, he was cautious that no one discover his
routine because he would have been fired, said Jorgensen.
"I sat in my office alone every night," said Jorgensen. "It occurred to me then
that when I got back to America I was going to work very hard to get an
education."
At the end of a year, Jorgensen received his transfer home and enrolled at
Hunter College in New York City. His first semester with perfect grades set him
on his way to his ultimate goal, a college degree from an Ivy League school.
The RUE program draws students like Jorgensen, 31, who already have had myriad
life experiences, according to Lydia English, program coordinator and associate
dean of the College. These are "people who have done amazing things and solved
complex life issues and problems."
Among RUE students "a common theme is fulfillment of a dream, and getting an
opportunity to do it when you really appreciate it for what it is worth," said
English. "The pursuit of a degree is not simply utilitarian. It is a personal
mission with as many reasons as there are individuals."
Jorgensen is one of about 60 students in the RUE program now. "I can describe
Darren in two words," said Jonathan Sklar, president of the RUE student
association: "Passionate and active." Jorgensen is trying to absorb the
complete undergraduate experience by living in a dorm and eating on the meal
plan. He has not yet chosen a concentration but plans to go to law school.
"I am so happy at Brown you have no idea," Jorgensen says of his return to
education. "A kid who barely got through high school and worked at a
convenience store ... it's another world. Brown didn't seem real at first just
like Baghdad didn't seem real at first, just like New York didn't seem real at
first.
"But that's going away the longer I'm here."