Second day at court

Needless to say, our first day at court was a hard day. It was horrible being dismissed from court and knowing we had only 1 day with Steve still in Uganda to finalize everything. I was upset with the lawyer, and baffled by the expectations of the judge. The people he wanted to see - the probation officer and the director of Fort's first orphanage- were obviously relevant people to our case, but it seemed like a crazy bone to pick since there were sworn affidavits. 

And of course, getting people to one place is not easy in Uganda. I heard most of this story later- the probation officer did not spend the night with the lawyer. He instead "borrowed" 40,000 shillings (about $16) to go get a few drinks. At 5am, our lawyer began driving around to find him. He did find him, and got him some breakfast and had him ready to go at 8:30am. It sounds like the sleazy guy that you pay to impersonate a probation officer, but no- this was the real guy. He was no longer working (because all probation officers have been fired-????- what???) so just mainly got drunk. But he was the guy who did the report and follow ups when Fort was found. Just couldn't remember a damn thing. 

And we also brought the woman who runs the government home. She was scared to come before the judge and not a fan of international adoptions. But she was very warm when we met her at breakfast, and remembered Fort well. He really is so comfortable with me, and was sitting in my lap. Whether or not that was the reason, she seemed to take a liking to us. 

So our meeting with the judge was to be at 9:30am, and I was shocked and thrilled beyond belief that we actually managed to get all these people to court. And then I was horrified when they told us he had to reschedule to midday because of an emergency. How can we keep tabs on these people??  We were outside, exchanging phone numbers to find everyone again, when the clerk came out and said he was able to see us now.  Ok, that was crazy close. It almost slipped through our fingers. 

So we went back in, and truly, my heart was pounding and I was sweating. First, after chastising our lawyer for wasting his time the day before, the judge called up Drunk Probation Officer.  It didn't go so well. He was nervous (and maybe in withdrawal?) and had trouble recalling any of the circumstances. At one point the judge asked, "Do I look stupid to you?". I kept looking at Steve. Then there was a complication of the birth certificate, which was made up after he was found as is required, with an estimated date based on his apparent age. That was called into question. Then came the other center's director,  and low and behold, she tells the judge he needed to be in a family. I think he was moved when he asked how many kids in the home right now. Unimaginably over crowded.

Then he called me up and I was ready to be grilled. He asked me to tell how we came into being interested in adopting Fort. So I told him, slowly, and without going into too much unnecessary detail. It seemed good. Then he said see you next Friday for the ruling and we were done. Jurjanne & Chris definitely were feeling that it went well & we should celebrate. I suppose it is possible that it will not be a favorable ruling, but I cannot figure why that would be. He said he'd let the birth certificate slide, and he could've asked for another court date- more papers, more people. But he 
didn't - so case closed.  I think. I hope?

Steve goes home now, and if something else comes up, it will be exponentially more difficult to solve. So here's for a straight forward ruling next week. 

Unsecured

Bleary-eyed,

I sit awake. 

Knowing trouble is sleeping

And wondering how the morning will go. 

His little aching heart

Is finally resting in the night,

Enveloped by a fortress

Made like the buildings of this country. 

Scaffolding made from long wooden poles, filled in by

Bricks baked in clay ovens, and

Covered with cement made by crushed stones. 

Smoothed by hands to make it seem like all is strong and resilient. 

But unlike the buildings that will stand for years,

His walls are made by patchwork,

Piecemeal. 

And bit by bit I will endeavor to dismantle

His fear

Of being hurt

Because he loves. 

Tomorrow we begin again,

He and I,

This demolition and reconstruction.

How to get about town

When in Kampala, it can be overwhelming when you think about how to get around. 

If you know someone "rich", they may be able to drive you in their car, or you can hire a car & driver. But gas is expensive and there is "jam" in the traffic everywhere. It takes a long time to travel via car. Of course you can walk- most people do. There are no sidewalks, but you can walk along the side of the road. Be alert- the boda bodas and cars will zip by you, and narrowly miss you. Or if you're not lucky, won't miss you. Accidents are a part of life here. Daily I see pedestrians jump out of the path of a car or motorbike. The other hazard is the red dirt all along the roads, or sides (if the road is not a major one it will not be paved). After the rain, the dirt turns into a slick mud. I have taken a few spills- not been hit, but just a wipeout in a mud slalom. On the sides of most roads are deep ditches, to carry the water off the roads during the rainy season. It's not so fun to fall into one of those, plus you kind of feel like an idiot. 

So for me, walking is my least favorite and most nerve-wracking way to travel. Many people take the matatus, or taxi buses. They are a cheap way to travel- usually under 1000 shillings, or less than half a dollar.  There is a driver and a "conductor" who opens the sliding side door, and takes the fares for the passengers. They stop periodically at matatu "stands" and cram about 14-20 persons in at a time. Usually there is some walking to and from matatu stands. Plus, these usually take double the time- or more- than a direct car ride.  Give yourself a few hours to get across town. 

So this leaves the boda boda. Which is more like a moped than a motorcycle. If you are a mzungu, you just need to begin walking for one to find you. Apparently, most white people don't travel "on feet". Alternately, you can walk down to the nearest intersection to the gang of guys on bikes waiting for riders.  First, you see if they know where you want to go. Some drivers don't know the areas farther than 5 miles. Each neighborhood has its own name -and usually the road changes names within each neighborhood too, so you can't direct them by road names. If they know the neighborhood and can understand your English " do you know Namirembe?" then you ask how much. They will say 10,000 shillings (or whatever) and you will laugh, because they have doubled the price for you, mzungu!  You say, no, no- 5000 shillings. And they will counter with 7000 and you will say fine, and they will pat the seat of the bike or say "on" - for let's go.  I have yet to have the nerve to respond with "kyabike!" (pronounced chia-bee-kay) which is my new favorite phrase meaning "let's get this party started"!!  I learned this from the large poster boards around (but what they advertise I can't recall- airtime for your phone, perhaps?).  You are still overpaying, but now you are paying under $3 instead of $4. Such an accomplishment. 

You get on behind the driver, but beware. On the right side of the bike is the exhaust pipe, and even if you know about it, you may forget one day and get the infamous burn on the inside of your right calf. I will call it my tattoo from Africa.  So try to remember to get on from the left. Your driver may or may not have a helmet- I haven't decided if this means he is a driver concerned with safety, or he is going to be flying up & down the steep hills. In any case, you - the passenger- will not have a helmet. Most men straddle the bike- the local women ride side saddle. But one good pothole or speed bump...I prefer the ability to grab the jacket of my driver in fear and in warning, so I straddle the seat, like the other mzungus who dare this form of travel.  If your driver takes 2 of you, it will cost more, but not as much as 2 bodas. If he takes 3 or more, I advise you to take a different one, or you may find yourself in the side of the road!  If you have a choice of boda boda- look for the bike with a wide seat, and if you see one with the luxurious padded back, grab it!  Most have a metal handle behind, which is a convenient place to hold on, but also can grate up & down your tailbone. If all this seems too crazy, try to enjoy the fresh air as you travel, passing the cars in "jam", and try not to get dirt in your eyes. 

When you get close to your location, It will be nice if you know where you are going and can point.  Directions in Uganda can go like this:  go to the end of the road, take a left at the mango tree. Go until you see the old man with the bike. Do not greet this man, but continue until the very large anthill. Turn down that road until you see the newly plastered boundary wall, and you are there.  Or just point. If you don't know where you are going, be sure to carry a cell phone!  Or ask another boda driver in the area. Or maybe you should just hire the car with driver after all. 

Court: Day One

With all of my emotional posts, I feel the need to tell a little bit about where we are in the process. So, if you're not interested in adoption, this could quickly get confusing or boring. (I hope it won't be that for those who are interested, but let's hold our judgement til the end). 

I have been writing about our court experiences, but not blogging about them -1) because I didn't want to put our case in jeopardy in any way (like our judge would read this?) and 2) because I was so emotional that they weren't always the kind of things one should post to the world. So now I will try to put the story together a little more objectively, which is always easier to do when it has worked out in your favor!  

I think most of you know our court case was scheduled for last Thursday.   Steve and I both had to be there, and it is easily the most nerve- wracking part of adopting. We had already invested not only in the adoption process and Uganda, but also deeply with Fort. In Uganda, Americans are not allowed to adopt without living in country and fostering the child for 3 years. Obviously, with Steve's job and our kids- this was not an option.  In addition, there is what used to be considered a loophole, but is now becoming acceptable to the courts:  the process of legal guardianship. We become the child's legal guardian, obtain a US visa for him, and finalize the adoption in the US as a domestic adoption. So that's why we were at court.  

Cultural  differences can be hard to see and understand. In the case of the court system, nothing is like the States. It is common that a judge will reschedule his case on the day of, which can cause havoc with the carefully orchestrated time off from work and flight plans. This was our greatest fear. Well, that and that the judge would say flat out NO.  Turns out, we didn't have to worry about rescheduling. 

We barely got started when the judge asked our lawyer where were the people who signed affidavits regarding the first year our son was found, before coming to Kaja Nafasi where he lives now.  The judge wished to cross examine the probation officer and the woman who is running the government home where Fortunate was first living.  So he dismissed us until we could come back with them!   Jurjanne (the Initiator/Director of Kaja Nafasi) took the social worker and also our lawyer to go and find those people. I can't figure out if this truly came out of the blue, or if our lawyer was unprepared.  The judge seemed to chastise him for not having the people ready. Steve and I were totally shocked, and obviously worried.  Steve had one more business day (Friday) before flying back 20+ hours to Ohio. 

Steve and I took Fort to a coffee shop (he is learning all about the games on my iPad) for a few hours, until they came back from their search.  Both people were available for the next morning, and the lawyer was able to book a time with the judge for 9:30am.  

Here was the kicker- the woman from the government home was quite hesitant about international adoption and was very scared that her name will be involved in an illegal case. So, many promises were made to her to get her there, and reassure her that everything was above board and she was not being asked to tell anything but what she knew of Fort last year.  And....the probation officer is a drunk who can't remember the children, even though he has met Fort several times. He stayed overnight with the lawyer so we didn't "lose" him.  Great. 

And Steve and I were completely relegated to the back until it is the portion of the case to determine if we are suitable guardians. The first part (of whether he is an orphan) was out of our hands- and seemingly in the hands of incompetents.  It was maddening and also mystifying that all of this was just run of the mill.  That afternoon was a dark day, the day of the rain.  

The Others

While I am here bonding with Fort, I am also inadvertently bonding with the other children here at Kaja Nafasi.  There are only 12 children here, and usually 3 house mothers on duty. There is also a guard, a volunteer from Holland, Chris & Jurjanne who come and go, and me.  The house mothers hold them, feed them and sometimes play with them, but they also clean (washing clothes, mopping the red dust off the floors, hand washing dishes) and cook (lots of starch here- always a potato, or potato-like "matooke" , or a grits- potato mash up called "posho"- plus beans beans beans and some veggies). They do the diapers, make the bottles on the stove, set out and clean up activities. In other words, there are many of them, but they are busy. And I am just here to play. 

There are the big kids, whom I met first. The ones who play with Fort and that he gets jealous of because they ask for my attention. And oh my, are these kids heartbreakers. 

 

Of course the twin girls speak directly to my heart. Emily and Maria. They are about 2.5 years and crack me up.  They are amazingly well adapted - no emotional issues like Fort that scream out. It is easier that they are younger. Emily is a vivacious, no-holds barred, ball of fire - she speaks great English and is super smart. oh, and she has the mark of Saruman (are you familiar w the Lord of the Rings?? - she is very dark and was walking around all day with a white, sandy handprint smack over her eye, just like the big Orc in the movie. We laughed ALL DAY).  Maria is a sweet, beautiful little thing.  She looks around and lets Emily be the loud one while she quietly slides into my lap.  She has decided she loves me and oh my god do I adore this sweet thing. "Nange" means "me too!" and all day, they follow me around saying "Auntie, Nange!".   They are strong willed, and maybe more grounded because they've always had each other. I don't think they would fare well in this country, where girls are supposed to be still somewhat submissive. These girls have been rejected 5 times.

Then there is big John. Big John is probably not yet 2 but he thinks he is a man. He trucks around all day, loading things onto a wheelbarrow, dragging a rake around the house. Things like that. He eats with such gusto that he often will have juice & saliva just spewing down onto his shirt. He is solid, and happy, and independent.  I wasn't sure if he could talk for a while - he can, but he's a doer not a talker. Big man John can get any job done.  I cannot imagine it, but they say John was in a terrible malnourished state when he was brought to the home. Now he is Big Man John. 

If you want to go young, there's silent Peter. When Peter cries, you can barely hear it. He was so malnourished when he was brought in, his hair was grey. Now he is got new dark hair. He has big dark eyes and a solemn, wise expression. He recently learned how to crawl and is fearless. All the kids will be inside and we'll say "where's Peter?" and he has crawled outside, up several steps and into the sandbox. He's probably one and a half -they think he at one time could stand and maybe walk, but then became severely malnourished and lost the strength.  He is now standing on his own and walking with assistance- I won't be surprised if he walks before I leave. 

He has only recently started to laugh. It surprises me every time- that old man face breaking into giddy toddler laughing. 

Winnie is the only other girl. She held me at an arms length the first week, then started flirting with me the second week, and this week she is my new Velcro child. She and Maria vie for the place on my lap closest to my body. They both cry when Fort comes over to claim his spot. But when he is happily playing with the boys, zooming around on their toy boda bodas, or walking around on some of the wooden planks left behind by the building guys (they are repairing the boundary wall), then you will see either girl locked onto my waist, with an arm tightly encircling mine. 

Jose is the one who hurts my heart the most. He is the oldest - probably 5-6 (he has lost his bottom two teeth). He knows exactly what is happening with me and Fort. He knows a Mama has arrived for Fort and not for him. Sometimes he just looks at Fort snuggling with me and begins to cry. Other times he is mad, clawing at me or pulling on me - even my disapproval is some sort of attention. If I were not Fort's mom, he is the one I would hug the most. But I feel like it would only confuse him more- to have solace from the one who personifies his largest want, that thing he cannot have. And has Jose crossed an invisible line?  Is he so aware of his abandonment that he won't be able to be accepting of a real family when one appears for him?  He needs a family, but one who can painstakingly love him. 

James is the new kid on the block. He was only here a week before I was here. He has the darkest skin, and when I came it was still ashy grey in color. Now it is gleaming bright, and I am starting to see a little light in his eyes. He has most likely spent some time out on the street ( he is 4-5). He has a toughness and a sense of survival to him. But he is still a kid. I see it in the few moments he allows himself to relax into me, to let himself be hugged or sung to or carried. 

I've only begun to get to know the sweet babies(more on them soon). All of these "big kids" have been through so much. I want them to find wonderful stable homes, either in Uganda or abroad. Wherever they will flourish. I want to tell their families that if they come back for them-  oh my god PLEASE take care of these stellar children!!! (I have a few other choice words for them as well, but we'll leave that for now). It will break my heart to see them taken in by a grandmother or aunt only to be abused, neglected or abandoned again.  If that happens, I fear we will be back in 6 months to get them ourselves.

"Whose woods these are I think I know"

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

This has been running through my mind today. I am in the midst of the great woods that is Uganda. The children here are lovely, yes, but the situations horrible. I have promised to take this one little boy out of the woods. And getting him home is just the beginning of our long journey. 

This is not easy. Have I said that yet?  This is not easy. I appreciate all of the kind remarks of awe or admiration, but I also feel the need to express the difficulties, not just of Fort's journey, but mine.  I have hope that with a secure home, Fort will settle down into a trusting and loving boy. But the flip side of that coin is fear. I am so afraid that he has accumulated deep scars, which I could never fully heal. That he will struggle every day of his life with these fears of abandonment and rejection and feelings of jealousy and confusion. That he will throw our happy home into one where no one feels like they are seen enough, cared for enough, loved enough. That I have bitten off more than I can chew. That I suffer from delusions of "saving" this child from himself. What if this is it?  This is who he is and will always be?  Sometimes happy, silly and charming - sometimes disconnected, in pain and incapable of communicating. How will I manage this needy child and not hurt the three beautiful well adjusted children back home?

These are not new fears. These are the questions we asked ourselves when we were making the decisions to adopt, to adopt internationally, and to adopt an older child. What impact will this unknown body make in our family?  Any child brings that unknown element- whether the child enters the family by birth or adoption.  But he carries influences that I did not control. Scars inflicted by people I've never met. Promises broken of which I will never know the nature.  

Today I am missing my children back home. It has been 16 days since I have seen them, 8 days longer than I have ever been away before. And I know they are sad and miss me. I also know they are incredibly well loved and taken care of in my absence, and as soon as I am back, they won't miss me anymore. Sounds logical right?  It is that unconditional love that they KNOW- that Fort does not- that allows me to be here with Fort. Our 3 children in Ohio know without a doubt that Mommy will come home.  And in Fort's case, it is much more reasonable for him to imagine I will disappear from his life forever. 

I had to make the decision to stay here. To be away from home for an entire month. Because if I leave him here, even if I come back - I will be creating more scars that we will have to erase. I need to be the one who doesn't break promises. 

"And I have promises to keep...".

A story of a man named Daniel

Everywhere I go on Uganda,  I meet people whose lives graze at the border of my comprehension.  

Let me tell you about Daniel. He is a beautiful man, with skin the color of espresso, who is probably in his mid 20s.  He picked me up at the airport on my arrival in Entebbe 2 weeks ago (could it be 2 weeks already? Yes, yes it could). On the bumpy, congestion filled two hour ride to the house where I was staying, he talked with ease and was quite candid with me.  His story floors me. This is a brief, and probably not quite accurate, recollection. 

He grew up in a government orphanage, after bombings in Kampala in the 80s separated him from his family.  He learned to rely on himself, and was able to get a sponsorship to attend school. He did well in school, and went on to college, where he learned that his family was still alive by finding his brother on Facebook. His sponsors were Chris and Jurjanne, who have since opened and are running Kaja Nafasi, the orphanage where Fort is. Daniel is engaged to a Dutch woman, Jiska, who has moved here to be with him and help with the orphan crisis in some way. They have taken 5 street kids into their home.  They want to have their own children's home, and have the children live in their home with them.  Daniel has a car, and does some driving errands for Kaja Nafasi to earn extra money.  The fact that he has a car makes him upper class. Yet he lost his cell phone last week and doesn't have the 40,000 shillings (about $25) to get another right now. He is wanting to get his Masters in business, so that he can have a steady income to support their children's project. He needs sponsors for the nearly $4000 cost. 

Why is it that his story floors me?  Because I am watching these children at Nafasi -I see the damage that these 4, 5 & 6 year old kids have incurred by being abandoned, abused and malnourished.  Although they are desperately in need of families, they still have so much. Beds of their own, mosquito nets, clean clothes, 3 meals a day, fresh fruit, toys and activities like coloring and playdoh.  Right now there are 2 or 3 care givers and 12 children, plus often times there is a volunteer or friend around. And I know that the government homes don't have these things. They are overcrowded with not enough beds, not enough food, not enough care takers. Little children are mixed with big children. Vulnerable children are mixed with hardened children. Children are sometimes beaten - sometimes by other kids, sometimes by the caretakers. 

And here comes Daniel, who lived in one of those places.  Not only that but he made it through the traumatic loss of his family. And he didn't live in the home for a few years, no- he stayed until he was 18. And his family didn't welcome him back with open arms, no- they remain distant. He took care of himself because nobody else would. And yet....And yet. Here he is with an open heart. With love for his country Uganda. With compassion for those street kids, who he thinks have it worse than he did. Here he is feeling like he's been given a break by meeting this Dutch couple and is determined to turn it into something bigger. To give back to the world that gave him so little. 

And that is what floors me.