The Finale

It's over. We are going home with a new child in our lives. And flying as a family. What a strange journey, almost as strange as vet school but not quite. We'll fly out Saturday and be home Sunday. Details to follow...

river valley

We loaf around all day, playing with, feeding, holding baby, laying him down for a nap, discussing our spring home renovations and new budget,  future adoptions, and canker sores, and by late afternoon, somewhat dazed and unaware of exact time, we emerge from our baby opium den in search of adult food. We have lost our momentum to discover new parts of the city and are counting days until we are home. Yet we are starting to miss the things and people we have come to know too. Our initiation into east Africa, however much it felt like hazing, gives a sense of pride and access. Not unlike figuring out NYC as an outsider. It's hard to ever move away because it's a complex system you know intimately. Besides, you could never afford to return if you gave up your good deal apartment in the slope.

So we believe we can see the village from the top of the hill. Just one more dangerous valley to cross, a strategic vulnerability, but necessary to access the river water. We will come home changed. New parents. Aware of Africa. Its convoluted history. I think we'll forever pull a different set of books off the shelf. More history. More about relations between developing and developed nations. How or whether to interfere, or help as some call it. About compassion. The individual versus the community, or tribe. About the value of human life. How valuable is it? Is it different depending on where you live?

There's been a lot of discussion in our community here about whether international adoption is a good idea, or seen as a last resort, or shouldn't be done at all. The biggest error would be in thinking that it's a simple answer. It's political, economic, cultural. It can taste sour like colonialism or bitter as evangelism, sweet like opportunity or salty as theft. Theft of cultural identity, or the very real child trafficking. But maybe the question is all wrong. Is international adoption done with compassion? Laws can be set to stop it, but international exchange between individuals - whether via business, or tourism, or forming families - is a part of human migratory history and now, globalism. You can either be an ass about it, or you can do it with compassion. We will be exploring how to do it with compassion for everyone involved.

last step

Everything is manageable if you have sufficient sleep. We received a phone call from our lawyer the next morning saying our passport was corrected and ready to be picked up. Needless to say it wasn't reprinted, rather a handwritten note was added to the inside cover. Although shocking at the time, and incomprehensibly amateur, no one here is complaining as the U.S. Embassy accepted it and granted us our final visa interview for Monday. That is the last step.

Unless there are technical difficulties administering the visa, as happened to our friends here yesterday.

The bureacratic process tires, and taints one's view of this country. But, you know what? The people here are friendly, and self-sufficient. They appear largely resistant to the woes of an international banking crisis, or a disorganized local government that has not prioritized clean drinking water, education, and a police force that protects its people.  It's impressive when one considers it is one of the most peaceful countries to meander through as a tourist. I haven't seen the men taunting women (though I am with a man and child often), and rare is the public argument or fight. Folks gawk at us but most seem genuinely curious and nice once you talk to them. Many waiters have held my baby and entertained him while we're waiting for cappuccinos, or offered an ear phone or rubber band in the bus to distract him before he has a complete meltdown. Which is more than I can say about Americans sometimes.

That said, they're back a century in terms of women's liberation, gay rights and animal care, and I have no interest in reliving battles already fought (and still fighting). They may even be back several centuries in terms of their tribalism. I'm treading into an area I know little so I will stop and go read a book.

drought

When drought is coming the trees and plants produce extra flowers, and seeds.

R&B

I used to work at a newspaper and was responsible at times for editing a project, from early drafts to final publication. And still, after it had been proofed by numerous people - the writer, the fact checker, the copy editor, the editor - typos would still appear on the final printed publication. So it was with a lesser trained crew here in Uganda, ourselves included. A typo was located on Luka's Ugandan passport.

No. This isn't happening. Cartoon pages of a calendar flip in my head. The ramifications of this small error unfolding. A delayed visa interview (next step) would cost us another week in rent, airfare charges for changing ticket dates, and the probability of not flying home together. An R. It should've been a B.

So I had a public breakdown, cried and went downtown again, found my lawyer and made a call to the passport office. Swear briefly, be in awe of incompetency, move swiftly, and figure out how to solve the problem. I believe I have become intimate with beauracracy.

banana gin

I have cravings for sauteed dark greens, lettuce salads with cucumbers, tomatoes and vinegar, salted arugula and olive oil. Cheese that doesn't taste like the cows have been grazing on weeds and plastic bits. There is gouda, parmesan and cheddar here, but it all tastes the same. They forget the basil in the marguerita. Sometimes they'll even advertise it on the menu but then won't put it on the pizza. (It grows quite well here, actually,  in the pots of the English lady we stayed with.)  I have urges to plant the first peas and broccoli when we get home. To stamp on the grapes grown on the family farm and learn to make wine. To press the oil out of olives with my thumbs. To nourish bodies with the best of earth's offerings.

They do make a nice gin, however. Sometimes made from bananas. Sometimes sugar cane. Waragi. And with some key limes and a touch of sprite, quite good. More affordable than beer and wine.

With all of this waiting time we wish we could take a boat over to the islands in the middle of Lake Victoria. There are monkeys. And probably crocodiles. And loads of birds. Monkeys are on the mainland as well, and apparently there was one in our backyard the other day. It's sort of like spotting a deer in the West. Or an elk if you're near the coast. Over Christmas, we saw a whole family of them, maybe eight, that traipsed through the resort we swim at sometimes. Like deer, people find them to be a nuisance because they get into things, provoke the dog, etc. I have gotten very little 'nature' out of this trip to equatorial Africa. Next trip here will be all about a safari and touring Murchison Falls, and taking a boat to the islands (with a baby life vest). Something to look forward to.

Instead, we've reignited writing and reading in our lives. After years in school, and busy new jobs, and excessive commuting, we had lost our connection to the literary world, and were only staying minimally involved in current events. My idea of my forties was to reengage with the world. Travel, read about history, care about the local community. Live what you want to share with your child about this world. I don't plan on relying solely on public education to brighten my boy. I think this boy will need to actively learn about this world, not just sit in a room with a book and a kid behind him kicking his seat.

The Samurai

Our favorite Japanese restaurant

market day

It's hot out there today. Luka is drawn to the cement porch which has been absorbing the sun since its rise. Too hot for babies but he insists. Sweating. We're looking forward to a day downtown at the markets, both Aveno and the African crafts market. I think Aveno is like The Bins in Portland, with all of the excitement and anticipation of a new cart of thrift store clothing wheeling up among a crowd of mothers, immigrants, and hipster men. The cart is dumped on a long table and the mad competition begins.

I don't know why it took six days to send the physical report from the International Organization of Migration (IOM) to the U.S. Embassy, but it may have cost us our trip home together. OK there was a weekend in there, and then a Ugandan holiday, and then the Embassy only does certain tasks on certain days, and the sum total of all variables equals a delayed paperwork filing appt. So we are scheduled for the approaching Monday, five days after we hoped. Eleven days after the physical exam. Ugh.

That is the crux of it. The process has been fairly steady and sort of understandable. What is hard and absurd is the assumption that we can afford to leave our life and go through such a long process! Who can afford this? In time and money? Even stay-at-home parents who are 'free' to not be at a job, often have other kids to tend to at home. And it is still costly to set up another adult in a new country with rent, internet, start up groceries, eating out, etc.

Next time I  might consider flying back and forth more. Still not cheap. But then I would've missed Luka gaining the strength in our care to stand in our laps, and then to walk with two hands helping, to being able to stand on his own with no help! for several seconds. He will likely walk his first steps on his own before we return. Not to mention his mental development:  improved verbal skills, learning English, and having a transition between first family and second family by continuing to see past caretakers and kids. These two months together, here in Africa, are invaluable and have been a critical bonding period for us. We know it was a gift from our friends and family back home that afforded us the chance to carry those memories with us. We are forever grateful.

what to bring

I'm now aware of what I would do differently to make this experience more tolerable. A lot of things are out of our control, but there are many that are in our control. Plus some tips for folks who are actually heading over soon...

- purchase local phone: there's a phone store next to the Orange dealer downtown, then you can walk over to the Orange store and sign up for service

- purchase Orange router so you have internet access all day, at home. It moves with you should you find a new place to live.

- purchase 10G monthly data plan (now you can Skype without running out of data, most cost effective)

- bring your own printer, ink, paper (we waste so much energy wandering around town looking for functional printers and copy machines)

- scanner, there is one on my iPad

- iPad with printer driver (I love being able to bring it and know it isn't at risk of theft if left in my room-people break in, house cleaners sneak, etc). Plus it is my camera.

- a fan or ear plugs (purchase a fan in Uganda. I fall asleep to a fan at home, so I'm biased, but here it drowns out the painful noise of this city:  music and dog barking all night)

- comfortable walking sandals (choose something where no socks needed, good for long long hiking walks, worn daily- looks good with skirts or pants)

- no jeans, no socks, one versatile sweater, maybe a light jacket with waterproofing (if it was a cooler day, long sleeves often are enough; I usually regretted bringing a jacket anywhere); skirts below knee but I wouldn't try terribly hard to not be Western. You are who you are. City girls here wear tank tops, leggings, tight jeans, as well as the classic T-shirt with African print skirt.

- "mommy" nice clothes for court x3 (over the knee skirt, blouse, colorful); dad wears slacks, collar shirt, probably not suit (as our lawyer said, as to not compete with the attorneys)

- baby of any age must have shoes and socks for court, a little jacket if at all cold out, must look dressed up (yep, collar shirt or something special for court)- there was a case where the judge really scolded the parents over 'casual wear'.

- men: lightweight trousers, linen, light cotton blends, no shorts, no jeans (shorts for around the house are great)

- scissors, staplers, paper clips, stickies, black pens, pencils

- swimming suit for everyone! Even something for baby.

- figure out who your driver is, and discuss the idea of having them for the day at times (roughly 100,000ush) and you can do all of your pain in the ass errands quickly, grab a week's worth of groceies, and have the driver wait while you grab lunch...worth it.

Eric kindly added pith helmut and adult diapers.

goodbye flower girls

There are several other families here adopting children from the same babies home. Some come and return home and come back again, some stay for eight months. That latter family in particular leaves to the U.S. today. Finally. It has been a long road for her and her family, and I think I have absorbed some of her endurance by watching her wake up each day, do all of these tasks by herself (no husband 6ft away) and organizing three children daily, for 4x as long as we will ever have to. Thank you. Thank you.

 It has been a great experience to see Luka continue to see these children outside of the babies home, with their new families, eating pizza and playing, oh, and waiting in compounds together and embassy lobbies. The older girls (five or six) who used to pick up Luka at the home and carry him around on their hips, run over to him now, and plunk him back on. Kids carrying kids. It has been really helpful to run into these other American families, check in on their progress in this process, and glean any tips they've discovered. There is a community of us out here, and many that are already back home living their new lives together, and some who were denied an immigrant visa for their child due to some technicality of what defines an orphan in the eyes of the U.S. They indeed left without a child.

I didn't know that was possible coming here. I think we actually chose adoption because it seemed like a guarantee. You will have a child at the end of the process. Unlike IVF. Not true. There have been several times the whole process could have buckled: the child you are matched with is not always investigated fully until you are in country (local parents take home their children after years of being cared for by the babies home-once they realize the adoption process has begun), the Ugandan judge has to agree the child is actually an orphan, the judge has to agree that you are actually competent parents (this was our hang up!), then the U.S. embassy has to agree the child is an orphan by their criteria (different than Uganda). We almost failed at what seemed the easiest one. The judge didn't like that the mother worked full-time and the dad was a stay-at-home dad plus freelance work. I (the woman) did too much of the talking, was too strong. Plus there were plain old language barriers and miscommunication. We so easily could have not received a ruling in our favor because of cultural miscommunication.

That said, every American mother I met here in this process is very strong and speaks her mind. You have to be to even go through this process. This is the American woman. Independent, strong, knows what she wants and how to navigate a ridiculous process. It's been said before, but adoption is not for the fainthearted. It will likely be on your list of the hardest things you will ever do. Amp yourself up. The rewards are worth the effort I think.

The Thinkers

ebony and baby socks

After 2 months we are finally learning our way around this city. Just yesterday we discovered there was a Rolex stand at the bottom of our hill where we catch the bus. Rolexes are freshly made chapatis with egg inside and often some peppers and onions. An omelette wrapped in a fried bread. There are probably variations on this we haven't discovered yet. Cost: 60 cents. People can live on this. I think we'll take this idea back home and feed homeless Portlanders. I always thought there should be some basic food in every city to feed people. In New York City you can get a large slice of pizza between $1.25 and $2. Coffee. 50 cents. Egg and cheese on a roll for what? $1.50? $2?
In Portland we'll have Rolexes for $1.

Also at the bottom of our hill are several stands with mangos, pineapple, watermelon, tomatoes, onions, avocados. The last place we bought tomatoes from the storekeeper took a little bag and walked behind his building. He was gone for a little awhile and we wondered if we miscommunicated again. He came back with a bagful (8) of Roma-sized tomatoes...that he had picked from his garden. For fifty cents.

Eric and I have been discussing why we haven't explored the shops more. We haven't purchased a single momento. Nor have we purchased a new pair of pants for Eric (don't pack jeans) or new socks for the baby (losing one sock, apparently, is an international problem). One reason is that I'm not a tourist and I am usually exhausted after a day of errands in a bustling, hot city with a kid strapped to me.

The second reason is that it is hard for an introvert to approach all of these hole in the wall shops with people staring at you, wondering how two whites were able to make a black baby. Adoption is a new concept. Witchcraft is more familiar. Not kidding. The other half know you're a good Christian taking care of God's babies. Needless to say, this is a weighted visit when we were just wondering if they had some size 34 slacks.

The third reason is more interesting, and more complicated. I am not educated enough to discuss economics but I intuitively get it. Recall we are talking about why it is difficult to shop here.  It's always good to start with expectations. Indeed, I expect some organization. A shop of just shoes. No airtime for your phone. No four unique dresses of varying sizes. No mangoes. Just shoes. This will increase the probability of having what I want, in my size. I may even seek your store out from further away and you can increase your customer count. This shoe shopkeeper may even take in shoes on consignment and then provide a used shoe collector or local cobbler access to  more customers (and more money) than they could ever get selling things individually. Which is what goes on here. There are very few small to medium-sized organized shops. Everybody is their own entrepreneur. Pretty impressive really. But a lot of wasted labor.
Can I relate it to land use? If we each had a 6ft sq plot of land and had to grow all of the types of food for our family it would be hard to individually access water, grow enough variety, etc. Why not share a larger plot with the neighbors and share in the harvest, the run off, the labor.

But if you don't trust your neighbors. If corruption is the rule of the land. If war or politics or religion has torn up relations, it is each for himself. And so every shop looks identical for miles. No one has a better tomato or shoe or dress. There is little free time to be creative, be an artist or intellectual, or artisan. It is rare to see African crafts in Africa.

I know there is a big African craft market downtown. There is also a big grocery store down there too like Fred Meyers, but that's not the point. The suburbs, the rest of the city, where the people live, where we live, where there are busy busy packed streets all day of thousands of people waking up to sell the same tomatoes and grow their two stalks of corn and sell their pink flip flops size 6, seven days a week. It somehow seems, well, inefficient. And a waste of labor. I don't know. At minimum, it makes it hard to shop here and I'm dying to buy some ebony and baby socks.

goat meat and collards

My brother once said, that if you get at least one thing done everyday, you're probably doing alright. i.e. visited the post office, made a call you'd been putting off, called your grandma. True in America, and even truer here. We are lucky to accomplish one thing per day. Monday we made copies. Tuesday we picked up Lu's passport. Wednesday we picked up a blue form at the U.S. embassy. All tasks took 1-2 hours to get to, and return from, usually walking in the heat. The task itself can take a minimum of one hour up to four. (Picking up a form today took over an hour). Some of those days we stopped to eat (not the passport day so Lu was tantrum city). We tried to print four things today but ended up only successfully printing two.

This is probably worth a little elaboration, as it hits on why it's sometimes hard to wake up and face the day. Printing. Printing day follows closely behind copying day. (Alluded to in facebook.) This was our third attempt to print our W2s needed for Lu's immigration. The internet was not working the first attempt (electricity was actually on). So we came back a week later - to the same place - and now the internet was so slow we couldn't load anything to print. Attempt three. New place. Printer not communicating with computer. But was able to transfer doc to server and print it with the front 1/4 and back 1/4 missing ( of the W2). So now I don't have an acceptable print out of my W2 and my ss# is now on his server. Sweet. We gave up but we did get our return ticket itinerary printed so we can at least renew our visas tomorrow. We tried to renew last week but the government dude said we couldn't because we still had 9 days left. Us: 'Yeah, but it's sort of hellish to come here, and since we're here dealing with passport stuff in the same building, we thought we'd get it ahead of time.' Dude: but then you would lose 9 days. See? Come back next week. Okayyyy...

Things here are like Eric's meal this afternoon : he ordered chicken pilaow. It was a heaping plate of local food: 75% seasoned rice, 5% cooked collards, 10% gristled goat meat, 10% cabbage. No chicken. It would have been a better meal with less food with equal parts rice, collards, goat, cabbage. Not bad for $6.
For example, I may be wrong but a lot of people seem to work all day long here, everyday of the week. The waiters at the hotel, cleaning staff, store keepers, folks on the street selling whatever, but then there's five guys at the gas station helping each other pump your gas. Overstaffed, working all the time, often not busy. Too much rice, more goat meat and collards.

Exciting news: we have his passport in hand. I think we'll head to Zanzibar....

copies

Maybe we'll learn that we can pick up his passport today. If things go smoothly it is possible to finalize everything within 2 weeks from picking up the passport. But US Embassy only does certain tasks on certain days so it is easy to see how it won't play out so perfectly. That said, we have to book our tickets home now, without knowing our final date, because it is required to renew our visas. I don't know why we only got a 60 day visa. Maybe we thought that would be plenty of time! I will go home no matter what, and Eric will stay for any glitches that arise. Or, if we are fortunate, we can fly home together.

Today's interesting project is to make a gbillion copies of Lu's folder from the babies home. His intake papers, visits to the doctor, etc. Most businesses are in tiny closets off the street- from fruit seller to copying center to hardware store-so we were thrilled to find a copying center in a mall where we can spread out (on the floor) and organize lots of differently sized pieces of paper. And then cross the street and stop in at the French patisserie. (In this country you need to have a reward for every task accomplished.)

Everyone on the street asks, How's the baby? Well, he is well. He crawls (he couldn't when we first met him) and he walks holding only one parent's hand. He eats everything we eat (we figure if he likes it and it doesn't cause diarrhea it's probably OK). He doesn't care for chicken but likes goat and some times beef. He prefers macaroni and cheese, pizza, and peanut butter bread to anything. Already he's so American. Vegetables are kind of hard to get here but he likes cucumbers, avocados, cooked carrots. He sleeps in until 8 or 9. He learned to sit and spin yesterday. Favorite toys: pill bottles, nail clippers, toy cars, doors and latches. He can't say words but understands a lot. Lots of babble. Knows a couple sign language signs. Likes dogs. My favorite part...he loves to dance and drum.