Well the day finally came that we would go to a Kampala
courtroom to plead our case to adopt Elsie and Ki. We knew the day would be
hard, mostly because the biological mother would be there and we knew it would
be hard on little Elsie. Rashid, the orphanage director, and another couple,
Jeff and Meredith, who are in the adoption process as well, accompanied us. The
day began with a trip to the king’s mansion to get a picture of the king and a certificate
showing that we visited. We were to present these two items to the judge to
impress him and show that we care about Ugandan culture. As a side note, Uganda
has 10 regions and 10 regional kings that are largely ceremonial. The country
does have a democratically elected president. But, back to court day; the next
stop was to a photographer for passport pictures. The photographer was pretty
quick, but Rashid and Jeff went to exchange money while we were there, so the
rest of us sat in the waiting area while the kids colored. After this, we said
goodbye to Jeff and Meredith (Rashid’s wife came and picked them up), and went
with Rashid. He led us to a “mazungu” (white person) café to wait while he went
and retrieved the biological mother, who had left at 5:00 that morning to be
there. I think she must have gotten a ride to a bus stop and then took the bus
from there. We waited at the café for 2 hours. It was quite a nice respite.
Melissa had a tuna salad sandwich and I had roast beef and....(just think to
yourself “what goes great with roast beef”) that’s right, peanut butter. After
taking in the sights and sounds of Kampala, enjoying the WiFi, and giving Ki
his first ice cream ever (Elsie was asleep), Rashid came to pick us up and we
were on our way. As we walked, I wasn’t sure if we were walking through a city
or a zoo. There were huge maribu storks roosting everywhere, ibises rooting
around in the grass, and crows that looked pretty normal, except for the big
white patches on their chests. The city was so alive with activity. There were
mopeds (called buda-budas) everywhere, some of which had multiple passengers,
human and animal alike. Other than buda-budas there were lots of cars, mostly
Toyotas, but the preferred method of transport was on foot. People were walking
everywhere as we headed to the court building. The courtroom was on the 3rd
floor, and there was no elevator. We had already done a lot of walking with a
backpack and small child for each of us. Elsie is still partial to Melissa, so
she carried her, even though she’s heavier. Needless to say, by the time we got
to the 3rd floor Melissa let out a sigh of relief. We were led to a waiting
room where we sat right next to a group of people who were obviously on
different sides of a dispute. As they argued in Luganda (the main language in
Kampala), we made up stories about what the dispute was about. At one point the
women got very animated and were crying. We can only imagine what was going on.
After about an hour, we started seeing some mazungus with black children filter
in. There was a couple from Connecticut who have known the kids they are
adopting for 6 years. On this trip, the trip when they thought all the ducks
were in a row to finally adopt these kids, there were more complications. This
was the 4th time they were in court in the last couple weeks and
they were hoping to hear a ruling in their favor. Their time came before ours, so
we got to see the joy and elation when the judge ruled in their favor. We also met
another couple from Alaska who are adopting a little boy.
Then things got really interesting. I saw Rashid in the hallway, so I knew the biological mother was somewhere close by. I had seen a picture, but I was not sure if I’d recognize her. Then I saw her and my heart sank. She looked so sad. You could tell it was difficult for her to walk, her frail body gingerly moved from side to side as she advanced. It was instantly obvious that she was a beautiful woman whose body had suffered the ravages of HIV and living the life of peasant in the Ugandan countryside. I know very little about her story. I know her name is Pauline. I know she cannot read or write (her thumbprint substituted for her signature.) I know that she was married, but her husband died of malaria because he too had AIDS and could not fight off the parasites. I’m aware that she gave birth to 8 children, the two youngest of which she is giving up because she can no longer take care of them in her state, and she’s determined to not have her older children drop out of school to take care of their younger siblings. And I know, in a minute I’ll be looking her face to face not knowing what to say or do. I suppose I shouldn’t worry about saying anything since she doesn’t speak English, but I want her to know that I’m praying for her, that I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to go through what she’s going through, and I want to tell her that I’ll take good care of Elsie and Ki. I expect that if she did speak English we would have a lot to talk about. As it was, though, she entered the room and approached us solemnly. Rashid said something in Luganda and I shook her hand and said “very nice to meet you.” Melissa was compelled to greet her like family. She gestured and asked if she could give her a hug. They embraced and, well there wasn’t much else to do but take our separate seats. At this point I could tell that Elsie had recognized her birth mother and she started to whimper a bit. Then the tears came. She kept looking back at Pauline sitting at the back of the room. I could tell it was difficult for Pauline, too. She tried not to make eye contact. We gave Elsie a sucker to try to distract her, but it didn’t work. That’s when Melissa made the decision to go to another room – a decision that was best for Elsie and Pauline. I sat in there for a while because Ki had fallen asleep in my arms and we had two backpacks to move, but after about 30 minutes I went to find Melissa, who had found a waiting room with toys for children. Although we were on the third floor of a high rise in city on the equator, there was no air conditioning. Ugandans are used to it, New Mexicans are not. I brought a suit jacket so I could look my best in our court appearance, but it was just too hot to wear while we waited. So when a man came it telling us it was time, there we are with two backpacks, two babies, and I have to get my jacket on as we head down the hall. It was probably not that important that we be there that quickly, but to us we wanted to hurry. It must have been comical to see us. Melissa is trying to keep Elsie from seeing Pauline so she doesn’t cry the entire time. I’m handing Ki, who’s awake now, to Rashid so I can get my jacket on. And we’re trying to weave two backpacks and kids between people in the hall as we approach the courtroom sweating and out of breathe. When we enter, our lawyer asks us to take a seat. Melissa is keenly aware that Pauline is seated in the row behind her to her left. She keeps Elsie facing the opposite direction. She whispers to me “pray for Elsie” as we sit down. I do. Then the judge begins. He’s speaking in Luganda, so we did’t know what was being said, but the lawyer was laughing like he’s at a comedy show. Maybe the inside scoop is that the Judge fancies himself a comedian, and the lawyer is sucking up. Maybe he’s genuinely funny. My money is on the former. After 10 minutes of the comedy show, the judge calls Rashid’s name. He stands, nods, says a few words in Luganda, and then sits down. Then the judge calls Pauline’s name. She goes up and stands right next to the judge’s desk faces the judge with a downcast appearance. Pauline is up there for 15 minutes or so. Again, they aren’t speaking a word I can understand. I know it’s not the truth, but I can’t help thinking she’s telling the judge that she has made a mistake and wants them back, that’s she’s found a husband and can take care of them now, that somehow her HIV test was a false positive. I shake off those feelings and notice that Ki is getting restless. Pauline cries. Then she laughs a little. Then she cries some more. Later we find out from Rashid that the judge was asking her about her husband, her disease, and her remaining older kids. Pauline sits down and the judge has some more words with the lawyer. We now know that the judge will soon call either Melissa or me, we’ll present him with the picture of the king, and then answer his questions. Then disaster strikes. Melissa looks at me and whispers, “we forgot the certificate and the picture of the king!” I freak out a little on the inside and whisper those words to Rashid. Rashid looks worried, which doesn’t help my situation much. He passes the words on to the lawyer who then relays that to the judge. At hearing this news, the judge looks at me, lowers his head to look over his reading glasses, and says, “That is very unfortunate.” I couldn’t understand much up to this point, so those words being a large percentage of what I did understand was not optimal. Ki is getting fussier. Then the judge calls Melissa’s name. She heads up to same place Pauline stood, Elsie in her arms, and faces the judge confidently. We’ve heard that this very judge has made several people cry, so I pray for Melissa. I begin giving Ki a bottle because I know I could be next and his fussiness was increasing. Then the judge starts in on Melissa. He tells her a story about how he stayed the night at a Muzungu's house and he frightened their little blond headed girl. He asked what the definition of adoption is. And he asked why we wanted to mix up our “pure” family. After each one of Melissa’s answers, Rashid nudged me and nodded with a smile. After the fifth question or so, Rashid leans over to me and whispers, “she’s a genius.” He was right. Later, Rashid elaborated by saying “the judge is a genius, but he’s not used to going toe-to-toe with a mind who is his equal.” That about sums it up. Melissa answered each question superbly. She didn’t falter, was confident, and didn’t even cry. When she sat down, the judge had a few more words for the lawyer. I was sure I was up next, but now I wasn’t worried about Ki’s fussiness, I was worried about his diaper. I hadn’t changed him in quite some time, he hadn’t pooped yet that day, and he just had an entire bottle of formula he wasn’t entirely used to. What could go wrong, right? Fortunately, after speaking with the lawyer, the judge did not call me up. Instead, he looked at me and said “you are going home and letting your wife finish up this process, right?” I shook my head and told him that I’m planning on staying to the end. At these words he immediately picks up his calendar and says a few words in Luganda. But I did understand a couple words this time – November 6. I was immediately relieved because I knew a ruling in 7 days was as good as we could hope for. I looked over at Melissa and she didn’t look happy. She said to me “did he say November 16?” I said “no, the 6th.” Then I could see tears well up. “Now I cry,” she says. The lawyer turns to us and confirms that we will be back on the 6th and tells us our hearing is adjourned. At this point Elsie is whisper-singing; she had been since Melissa sat down. God was indeed doing a miraculous work in her. Later Melissa told me that she prayed that the Holy Spirit would be with Elsie.
We waited for Pauline to get ahead a bit so as not to upset Elsie any more and then we headed out. I ran ahead to catch Rashid and Pauline in the parking lot so I could thank Pauline and ask to take a picture with her before Rashid escorted her to the bus. I headed back with Ki in my arms to join Melissa and Elsie who were lagging behind on purpose. We waited in that parking lot for Rashid to return from taking Pauline. While we waited, it was the first time we saw Elsie twirl.
Then things got really interesting. I saw Rashid in the hallway, so I knew the biological mother was somewhere close by. I had seen a picture, but I was not sure if I’d recognize her. Then I saw her and my heart sank. She looked so sad. You could tell it was difficult for her to walk, her frail body gingerly moved from side to side as she advanced. It was instantly obvious that she was a beautiful woman whose body had suffered the ravages of HIV and living the life of peasant in the Ugandan countryside. I know very little about her story. I know her name is Pauline. I know she cannot read or write (her thumbprint substituted for her signature.) I know that she was married, but her husband died of malaria because he too had AIDS and could not fight off the parasites. I’m aware that she gave birth to 8 children, the two youngest of which she is giving up because she can no longer take care of them in her state, and she’s determined to not have her older children drop out of school to take care of their younger siblings. And I know, in a minute I’ll be looking her face to face not knowing what to say or do. I suppose I shouldn’t worry about saying anything since she doesn’t speak English, but I want her to know that I’m praying for her, that I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to go through what she’s going through, and I want to tell her that I’ll take good care of Elsie and Ki. I expect that if she did speak English we would have a lot to talk about. As it was, though, she entered the room and approached us solemnly. Rashid said something in Luganda and I shook her hand and said “very nice to meet you.” Melissa was compelled to greet her like family. She gestured and asked if she could give her a hug. They embraced and, well there wasn’t much else to do but take our separate seats. At this point I could tell that Elsie had recognized her birth mother and she started to whimper a bit. Then the tears came. She kept looking back at Pauline sitting at the back of the room. I could tell it was difficult for Pauline, too. She tried not to make eye contact. We gave Elsie a sucker to try to distract her, but it didn’t work. That’s when Melissa made the decision to go to another room – a decision that was best for Elsie and Pauline. I sat in there for a while because Ki had fallen asleep in my arms and we had two backpacks to move, but after about 30 minutes I went to find Melissa, who had found a waiting room with toys for children. Although we were on the third floor of a high rise in city on the equator, there was no air conditioning. Ugandans are used to it, New Mexicans are not. I brought a suit jacket so I could look my best in our court appearance, but it was just too hot to wear while we waited. So when a man came it telling us it was time, there we are with two backpacks, two babies, and I have to get my jacket on as we head down the hall. It was probably not that important that we be there that quickly, but to us we wanted to hurry. It must have been comical to see us. Melissa is trying to keep Elsie from seeing Pauline so she doesn’t cry the entire time. I’m handing Ki, who’s awake now, to Rashid so I can get my jacket on. And we’re trying to weave two backpacks and kids between people in the hall as we approach the courtroom sweating and out of breathe. When we enter, our lawyer asks us to take a seat. Melissa is keenly aware that Pauline is seated in the row behind her to her left. She keeps Elsie facing the opposite direction. She whispers to me “pray for Elsie” as we sit down. I do. Then the judge begins. He’s speaking in Luganda, so we did’t know what was being said, but the lawyer was laughing like he’s at a comedy show. Maybe the inside scoop is that the Judge fancies himself a comedian, and the lawyer is sucking up. Maybe he’s genuinely funny. My money is on the former. After 10 minutes of the comedy show, the judge calls Rashid’s name. He stands, nods, says a few words in Luganda, and then sits down. Then the judge calls Pauline’s name. She goes up and stands right next to the judge’s desk faces the judge with a downcast appearance. Pauline is up there for 15 minutes or so. Again, they aren’t speaking a word I can understand. I know it’s not the truth, but I can’t help thinking she’s telling the judge that she has made a mistake and wants them back, that’s she’s found a husband and can take care of them now, that somehow her HIV test was a false positive. I shake off those feelings and notice that Ki is getting restless. Pauline cries. Then she laughs a little. Then she cries some more. Later we find out from Rashid that the judge was asking her about her husband, her disease, and her remaining older kids. Pauline sits down and the judge has some more words with the lawyer. We now know that the judge will soon call either Melissa or me, we’ll present him with the picture of the king, and then answer his questions. Then disaster strikes. Melissa looks at me and whispers, “we forgot the certificate and the picture of the king!” I freak out a little on the inside and whisper those words to Rashid. Rashid looks worried, which doesn’t help my situation much. He passes the words on to the lawyer who then relays that to the judge. At hearing this news, the judge looks at me, lowers his head to look over his reading glasses, and says, “That is very unfortunate.” I couldn’t understand much up to this point, so those words being a large percentage of what I did understand was not optimal. Ki is getting fussier. Then the judge calls Melissa’s name. She heads up to same place Pauline stood, Elsie in her arms, and faces the judge confidently. We’ve heard that this very judge has made several people cry, so I pray for Melissa. I begin giving Ki a bottle because I know I could be next and his fussiness was increasing. Then the judge starts in on Melissa. He tells her a story about how he stayed the night at a Muzungu's house and he frightened their little blond headed girl. He asked what the definition of adoption is. And he asked why we wanted to mix up our “pure” family. After each one of Melissa’s answers, Rashid nudged me and nodded with a smile. After the fifth question or so, Rashid leans over to me and whispers, “she’s a genius.” He was right. Later, Rashid elaborated by saying “the judge is a genius, but he’s not used to going toe-to-toe with a mind who is his equal.” That about sums it up. Melissa answered each question superbly. She didn’t falter, was confident, and didn’t even cry. When she sat down, the judge had a few more words for the lawyer. I was sure I was up next, but now I wasn’t worried about Ki’s fussiness, I was worried about his diaper. I hadn’t changed him in quite some time, he hadn’t pooped yet that day, and he just had an entire bottle of formula he wasn’t entirely used to. What could go wrong, right? Fortunately, after speaking with the lawyer, the judge did not call me up. Instead, he looked at me and said “you are going home and letting your wife finish up this process, right?” I shook my head and told him that I’m planning on staying to the end. At these words he immediately picks up his calendar and says a few words in Luganda. But I did understand a couple words this time – November 6. I was immediately relieved because I knew a ruling in 7 days was as good as we could hope for. I looked over at Melissa and she didn’t look happy. She said to me “did he say November 16?” I said “no, the 6th.” Then I could see tears well up. “Now I cry,” she says. The lawyer turns to us and confirms that we will be back on the 6th and tells us our hearing is adjourned. At this point Elsie is whisper-singing; she had been since Melissa sat down. God was indeed doing a miraculous work in her. Later Melissa told me that she prayed that the Holy Spirit would be with Elsie.
We waited for Pauline to get ahead a bit so as not to upset Elsie any more and then we headed out. I ran ahead to catch Rashid and Pauline in the parking lot so I could thank Pauline and ask to take a picture with her before Rashid escorted her to the bus. I headed back with Ki in my arms to join Melissa and Elsie who were lagging behind on purpose. We waited in that parking lot for Rashid to return from taking Pauline. While we waited, it was the first time we saw Elsie twirl.
Thank you for that mental picture of those moments. Poor sweet Elsie. I pray that her twirls may increase. :-)
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