Last night, Fort spent the night with me for the first time. I wasn't sure either of us was ready yet- but only because I knew that he would have to go back to spending nights at the orphanage. Would it be terribly disruptive? Either staying with me or going back - or both? But, we had an early morning interview for his passport, and both of us need to be there. Since Jurjanne was driving us, she kind of made the decision for us.
Fort was very excited to come. He knows Jurjanne and her husband well, and their 2 Ugandan boys, Chris(6) and Seth(2). We packed pajamas, his toothbrush, a change of clothes, and the blanket I brought him from the States. He rode in Jurjanne's car back to her house. He saw the guest house where I sleep and nosed through some of my things. But his friends had more fun stuff to do and quickly he was outside, begging me to help him go around on Chris' slightly-too-big bike with training wheels.
I had to use my hands to teach him how to keep his feet circling around the pedals. My mind flashed back to the States, and Ben's old spiderman bike that will be just a perfect size.
After a day of playing in the red dirt of Africa, the children get bathed nightly- here before dinner. Fort easily stripped down like the other 2 boys & followed them to the tub. His eyes grew wide at the tub filling with water- at Nafasi they sit in an empty tub, with a small bucket of clean water next to them in the tub. There is a little sponge and a bar of soap, and baths are quick & efficient & done by the caregivers. In the steaming bath, the boys lowered their bodies down, and Fort had his first "western" bath.
Then we were called in for dinner. Unlike the prepared plates of food that he gets at the family home, here dinner was piled onto dishes in the middle of the table. There was no point in asking what he wanted to eat- he has never had that choice before. So I gave him a little of everything- chicken, French fries, cucumbers, broccoli, bread. We found the first thing I've ever known him not to like- Broccoli. He took one bite and promptly put the remaining stump on my plate, saying simply "no". I believe it's his first broccoli. I like broccoli, so it won't be his last!
But like his fellow Ugandans, he likes his chicken. These were chicken wings, and though they are not my favorite, I know meat is a nice treat here. These people are serious about their meat. They do not just chew daintily on the juicy middle meat around the bone, or gnaw the skin away from the ends. Nope. Ugandans, and my son, eat every non-bone part of that chicken including any cartilage, fat, or gristle. Wow.
After cleaning his plate, and then his hands and face, Fort went back outside while I completed my now daily ritual of doing the dinner dishes. (A small task for a nice meal each night). I was happy he was able to feel secure that I was in the house while he played outside. A little checkmark registered in my mind -*incremental step forward!*. Seth and Chris go to sleep at 7pm, but at the home the children don't sleep until 8. I wanted to keep his routine, plus I anticipated a bedtime battle of sorts. So we said goodnight and went to the guest house. We brushed teeth, and since I didn't have any toys, we looked at pictures on my iPad, and then a few games and stories. Around 8pm, I started moving him to my bed. Even when they don't know much English, kids know how to make their wishes clear. "No bed! No go sleep!". I bribed him into the mosquito netted double bed by letting him play with my flashlight (for power outages and to seek out cockroaches if I have to pee in the night). Finally, I gently took away the flashlight, fully expecting the tears that quickly came. I had a sense he would almost need to cry in order to settle down. First it was an angry cry- about the unfairness that was the taking of the flashlight. Then came the sobbing of "I don't want to sleep" and then finally we got to the real issue: "want to go".
"I know, baby. I know you want to go back to your regular bed at Nafasi. But we are going to sleep here and Mama is going to stay with you". He crawled on top of me, chest to chest, and slowed his crying to what I call his 'keening'- his low, repetitive moaning, seemingly meant to block out the world and block himself from his own hurting heart. He let me hold him, kiss him, console him. He listened when I named all the kids back at the family home. "Jose is sleeping. James is sleeping. John is sleeping". Rhythmic and slow. "Winnie is sleeping. Emily is sleeping. Maria is sleeping". We went though all of the kids and caregivers. He quieted down, moved away and rearranged into sleeping position. After 10 quiet minutes, when I was sure he was sleeping, he murmured "Rebel is for sleeping". Rebel, the dog at Nafasi. "Yes, Fort. Rebel is sleeping". Another ten minutes. "Jemiro is for sleeping". I guess we forgot Jamiro. "Yes, Fort. Jamiro is sleeping". I looked across the pillows. His eyes flickered open. I could see the whites of his enormous eyes against the brown that made his sweet face and deep irises. We looked at each other silently. This boy and me. This boy and his mother. My son. He closed his eyes
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