`The Drama of a Small Day-Trip

Day-trip to the Zoo

Yesterday we took our first trip out of Kampala, to the neighboring city of Entebbe.  The airport is in Entebbe, so we came from there, and it is only 23 km away, so it seemed like a manageable project.  The first day that was completely open was yesterday, a Saturday.  When we had dinner with our upstairs Kenyan neighbors on Friday night, I mentioned the trip and the younger boy looked so excited that I invited him along.  David is 10 years old, slim, with a quiet but earnest demeanor and a sudden smile, both thoughtful and playful.  He and Emerson get along very well, and I think Davey enjoys how he can both teach and be protective of Emerson, and also how playing with a little child can allow his own playful side to come out.  So it was an adventure going much farther afield than we had been so far, but it felt like even more of a risk to be adding someone to our familiar little party!

This will not be so much of a story about what we saw, but just about the process of traveling around here, and things that I felt were interesting to observe.

Kampala is kind of like an octopus city, with a central downtown and then arms going off in different directions (I think Ugandans are not really city-adapted people, and the city needs to sprawl a great deal in order for everyone to have their gardens and banana groves and goats).  We live down at the end of the Gaba Road tentacle, and we needed to take the minibus into town and then walk over to to catch the minibus out the Entebbe tentacle.  On a previous trip, we had found where all the minibusses heading out towards Entebbe start out; the only confusing thing about the minibus system is getting in the correct place where the minibusses go where you are going.  There are no maps or bus numbers or official routes or anything, but if you stand on the correct road the minibusses going by will take you where you want to go.  So all that seemed straightforward enough, until I realized that it usually takes us about an hour to get downtown, and the guidebook said the busses to Entebbe can take an hour.  I realized that our little outing would require as much driving time as going up to Portland!

The advantage of taking minibusses through Kampala over driving to Portland, is that there is always something interesting to watch.  There are always people and shops and goats and quite a bit of beautiful scenery; since the whole area is set on hills, often you can get quite a view.  The disadvantage is that minibusses are not built for a comfortable ride!  Usually small children ride on laps, but I found out something worthwhile about travelling with two children: the three of us could fit in along two seats.  You pay the bus fares by the bum, not by the head, so I don't think it matters how many children I bring, it matters how many seats I fit us into!

I thought we were taking the bus all the way into the end in Entebbe, but the driver stopped multiple times to let people on or off in the greater Entebbe area, and at one of those stops I saw a sign for the zoo.  We jumped off as fast as we could (which isn't very fast!) and started walking.  It was a little strange for a while, as there were no more signs and we didn't know where we were on the map, but after half an hour or so we did indeed make it to the zoo.

The zoo is actually a wildlife conservation and education area or something like that.  For children, it doesn't matter, as they just want to flit around and see the crocodile and the lion and the pythons (at least, those are the boys' picks!).  For adults, it is significant because all the animals there were rescued from poachers or otherwise were damaged or couldn't live in the wild, which besides being good for the animals means that they are all native to Uganda and can also be found in the national parks.  I figured it was kind of a primer to later taking a trip to the parks: I'd get a good look at the animals to be able to know what they are if we see them in the wild!  Uganda has many different kinds of antelope species which I've never seen before, of different sizes and descriptions, and they were interesting and graceful.  Other than that, a zoo is kind of a zoo is a zoo.  Other parents will know that it is really more about managing the children, and trying to get them to really look at something rather than running off and complaining, than it is about deep contemplation of the animals!

We had lunch in the zoo restaurant.  You see, this is the way my exploration of Ugandan cuisine is going: when we go out, it is part of a larger trip, and we end up somewhere kind of isolated which serves Ugandan "fast food," which consists of: chicken and chips, sausage and chips, fish and chips, liver and chips, plain chips.  This is how, a month into it, I have not yet had matooke or most Ugandan sauces.  That, and that children's portions do not exist, and the plates tend to be large, so I order something that Emerson and I can share, and we all know how fond he would be of Ugandan stew -- it has stuff touching other stuff!  Horrors!

The restaurant was on a patio overlooking Lake Victoria.  Where we live is on Murchison Bay, so we see the great lake but we also see the shore on the other side; this was looking out into the endless waters.  Davey got excited to think that it went straight on to Tanzania!  Of course, in this amazing setting, the boys were mostly interested in watching a make-shift raft haul stones out into building a breakwater -- well, we didn't know what they were making, so that involved quite a bit of speculation.  There was also a lively game of Go Fish.  Watching children this age play games with each other is so interesting, because they are still so stuck on rules and exactness, and yet they still can only understand their own perspective -- which wants to win.  So they would play along for a bit, until one boy saw a way that he could get more pairs, and the other boy would get all up in arms because he was cheating, and then promptly try it himself on the next turn; lots of quarrelling and everyone happy as clams.  It was an interesting observation from a child development perspective... and much more enjoyable when I was not trying to play myself.

Lunch also presented an interesting observation in hosting/guesting.  In America, if a child were tagging along with another family's outing, the parents would probably send their child with everything they might need and lots of specific instructions, including money to pay for anything.  In fact, they would probably ask the hosting parents exactly what to bring, and include extra.  Davey's parents didn't ask me anything about how long we planned to be gone or what to bring; he just showed up wearing neat clothes and looking quietly excited.  I have read that in Uganda, the job of hosting is to provide everything for your guests, so I wasn't completely surprised.  (As opposed to America, where the host is supposed to offer to pay for everything, but then the guests are supposed to argue about it and try and pay for themselves, and maybe they are more polite if they manage to convince the host to pay, or really they weren't supposed to -- I really kind of like the straightforward expectation better!)  But apparently, the polite parents' response was to tell their son to only get the cheapest things.  After a careful examination of the menu, Davey ordered plain chips for lunch.  I asked what he wanted to drink, and since even water costs money, he looked at the menu again and asked for soda, which is slightly cheaper -- but Emerson was having juice, and the waiter suggested juice and he agreed, but then realized it wasn't on the menu and he had to ask the price, embarrassed.  It was more expensive than soda, and he looked very flustered, but by now I had noticed the pattern and insisted to the waiter that he was still getting the juice.  (I've never seen the family drinking soda, so I doubted that he actually preferred it.)

Which leads to another interesting observation.  I suggested that both boys use the bathroom before lunch, and Davey immediately agreed about washing his hands (they are very meticiulous about washing hands before eating here), but told me that he never uses public restrooms.  And he didn't, the whole day.  I thought maybe he meant that he snuck into the grass or something, but he was never away from us long enough to do that, either.  Our trip was over 11 hours, and he drank two or three big glasses or bottles of water or juice that I saw, so I don't know how he managed it!  Which points to an interesting connundrum of African travel: you know that it is hot and sunny out, and that you should stay well hydrated and drink lots of water, but you never know when or how it will be possible to go to the bathroom.  Actually, the bathrooms here are a great deal less disgusting than they might be, but unless you are in a tourist area they are fairly few between and difficult to find, so it's quite a project to go and get to one.  It's especially a project when walking at 4-year-old speed.  Little boys are apparently allowed to pee on the street in a gutter or something, and I've seen men going behind a building, but those options are not available to the adult female!  I would also like to point out, with amusement, that the proper, delicate American lady turned out to be significantly less fastidious about her bathroom use than the African boy!

After the animals, lunch, pictures on the beach (Davey's suggestion), and a toy helicopter ride (Emerson's insistence), we headed out to the botanical gardens, which luckily were only a 15 or 20 minute walk away.  They were supposed to be quite nice and offer the chance to see many different butterflies and birds, and trees that the British had planted from all over.  It was a pleasant walk, but I think it would have been much more interesting with some information about what was going on.  Apparently they have guided walks, but even if we could have found the right spot I didn't think that would work very well with the boys.  Also, there probably would have been more butterflies and birds if it were morning or evening, not the middle of the day -- but that's logistically impossible since it's a 2-hour trip to get there, and I don't want to be out in the dark.

However, after a little while, the boys found good boy-ish things to do, that were totally unrelated to the purpose of the botanical gardens, except that nature is a good place to be a kid.  There was a rainforest-y area in the middle, built up with uneven stone stairs and stone gutters for streams to run through. (They say that these were built during the filming of "Tarzan," although my guidebook is not convinced.)  Davey was fascinated how clear and clean the water was.  He suggested that I could fill my water bottle and use the purifier on this water, since it was so clean (he was also fascinated by the purifier, I think!).  Soon they were both splashing in the water, and Davey washed his face and Emerson washed his shoes, and we followed the stream up and down. We went down by the lakeshore, and the boys scrambled down towards a little pool, where Davey thought he could catch some minnows to show Emerson, but the fish had no intention of being caught!  We found a beach-y area with seashells, and Emerson gathered some "treasures."  

At the meadows towards the top of the park lives a large group of vervet monkeys, and this was fascinating too.  They are light brown monkeys about the size of a Sheltie or so.  They were mostly running around on the grass, and it was quite something to see their little fingers and little faces, so like ours!  It was one of those funny times, when it seems like you are looking right at a picture, and yet the picture is really real, and it's striking how just like the picture it is!  At least, that's how I felt watching them groom each other, or stare over at us.  They were also very playful, with a lot of little ones running around.  They were not afraid of people, and the boys walked towards the nearest ones, obviously enjoying the suspense of knowing they weren't supposed to get too close, but what about a little bit closer?  And what happens if I clap, or stomp my foot?  One of the males involved in such an experiment ran towards the boys instead of away (probably having just such experimental thoughts in his own mind!) and both kids were totally startled!

Emerson also had a very Emerson-y adventure in the botanical gardens.  We were allowed to walk on either the grass, which was mostly clipped like a lawn, or on the rutted dirt roads.  The grass allowed closer inspection of trees, but had a lot of bugs in it.  Emerson was feeling cheerful and running ahead along the road, and he fell full-length and full-speed, banging up his knees and tummy and hands.  Unfortunately, he had done the exact same thing the day before, so he already had open skin on one knee and he easily re-opened the same scrape.  Oh, the drama, the agony!!!  I will spare you the details, but there was at least half an hour of full-fledged screaming, which I think was more than strictly necessary.  One of these days, I am hoping that Emerson's sense of public scrutiny will kick in, and it will occur to him that maybe it is a little embarrassing to throw a giant fit, or scream endlessly about one scrape, when friends and strangers are all around and trying not to stare.  Meanwhile, there is a reason why Mama keeps the first aid kit in her bag, as it tends to come in handy quite often.  I am never quite sure whether I am proud of his tenacity, to keep running ahead and acting crazy even though he knows he might fall, or think that perhaps a little extra caution might be a reasonable addition to the wild running.  He has a dramatic fall every couple days or so, and although most of them don't produce blood, they all produce copious crying and look like they really would hurt.  I think most little children fall a lot, and I remember having frequently banged-up knees as a kid, but I don't know that so many of them scrape their tummies and their foreheads with the violence of their tumbles!

We began our long trek home, and luckily found the bus stage towards Kampala quite easily.  Then there was a bit of a funny story.  A few minutes into the trip, Emerson started to complain that his tummy hurt, which lately often precedes a bowel movement.  He agreed with my suggestion, and said he wanted to get off right now and go poop.  But where to get off?  (See the previous discussion about toilet availability!)  I didn't want to ask the driver for a stop, because they will just stop anywhere, so I thought when he did stop and it seemed like it was a built-up area we would get off.  But there never seemed to be a good time, and then we were out of Entebbe.... and Emerson fell asleep. I don't know how he can sleep on the minibusses, which are not only uncomfortable, but also noisy and windy, but he does!  He slept all the way to Kampala, and then we spent quite a while searching for a restroom, and finally found a public one.  It was a squat toilet, of course, but Emerson insisted that it was only for peeing and he wouldn't even try and go poop!  I was glad that we hadn't made it off the bus, if it turned out he wouldn't even try!

We didn't make it home before dark, but we were on the minibus out of Kampala before dark.  I haven't heard anyone talk very much about safety around here, but I personally think that I don't want to be walking around downtown Kampala after dark.  In our own area, the village market area is always still full of people, including many women and children, in the hour or so after dark, and our apartment is only a couple hundred yards past the end of the busy part, so I feel like that is relatively safe to walk through.  I don't know how ordinary tourists go to dinner and go back again, since dinnertime is after dark, but it will continue to be dinner at home for us!

And that was our day, with some fairly interesting sights, but mostly the small adventures that tend to surround children.  The conclusion was that we were both so tired we slept so late that we couldn't get to church this morning!

Eating

Want to help me with ideas?  I've got a few good meals that I've been making, but I've been having a hard time thinking of different dishes.  The internet is too slow for it to be worthwhile to search for recipies.  If you have an idea that would work (a recipie or a simple "this and this with that on top") I would love it if you emailed or PM-ed me with it!  Meanwhile, you might be interested in what we have to eat.

There are a number of different shopping options around. Shopping here includes a new and vital factor: carrying all the groceries for the walk home!  So the farther afeild I wander, the better the prices and variety are, but the farther I have to take the groceries.  It also means that "stocking up" on anything is impractical.

Just a few minutes walk from our house is a little market area, with a bunch of small stalls, a grocery store with about 5 aisles, and a large fruit, vegetable, and fish market.  If we walk the other direction down our road, we come to a much larger grocery store, which has a number of more normal things (such as spices and cheese), but it about 20 minutes' walk away.  If we take the minibus 30 minutes to the biggest shopping area on Ggaba Road, Kabalagala, we can find a grocery store that is comparable to a small American grocery, with deli meats and herbal tea.  I assume there are stores in downtown Kampala that are even better, but the complication of getting in and out of downtown is not worth grocery shopping.  

We have most kinds of vegetables that you can imagine (very cheaply!) including potatoes ("Irish"), swiss chard, cabbage, tomatoes, eggplant, etc.  The only mushrooms are small dried ones used for flavoring sauces.  There are different kinds of rice (all white) and a very wide variety of beans, lentils, and dried peas.  The locals also eat "posho," which is a cornmeal dish pretty much like poleta or grits, and "matoke" bananas as a starch under their sauces.  So there are lots of vegetables, beans, and carbohydrates.  There are also flours, baking soda, etc.  Some noodles, although not at the nearby stores.  

I will get fish, but not meat.  Plenty is available, but I don't trust the butcheries with the meat hanging out in the air -- not to mention, whenever I've been served meat it's very tough anyway.  Chicken would be much more sanitary, but more work.  The way to buy chicken for dinner here is to pick a nice bird out of the cages piled up at the edge of the market, and then bring him home by the feet or the wings!  I know exactly how much trouble it is to prepare a chicken from beginning to end, and I don't feel like embarking on that project on a whim!  I think frozen chicken parts are available from the distant groceries, but that gets heavy and expensive.  Probably worth it for a treat, but not regularly.  

As for herbs and spices, we have available all of the normal ones like dried basil, paprika, rosemary, etc.  The groceries also have every Indian spice you can think of, but I don't really know how to use!  The locals seem to use mostly tiny dried fish, dried mushrooms, Royco (a powdered gravy type thing), and hot peppers.  Or nothing at all.  

As for nuts, only peanuts.  (There are some exorbitantly expensive cashews available as well, but I'm not buying them!)  No dried fruit.  No nice oils or vinegars.  Almost nothing for sauces, just strange African ketchup.   No soy sauce or salsa or nutritional yeast or hummus or anything. 

Milk is availble, in small shelf-stable boxes.  Super-sweet yougurt is available in small tubs, and I can get some plain yogurt at the medium-far grocery.  For cheese, I can get fairly expensive wheels of gouda, or extraordinarily expensive small bits of a few other cheeses.  

So what can you think of that I can make with those things?  I hadn't realized how much I depend on condiments, nuts, and cheeses until I don't have any! 

Our first family day

Our First Family Day

(Of course, the "first" part assumes there will be more...)

Today we spent half the day together: Emerson, Hibiscus, Buttercup and I, without another couple dozen children or surrounded by the walls of the orphanage.  It was a very simple adventure; we just had a doctor's appointment and lunch.

The appointment-ness itself is kind of amusing.  Yesterday afternoon Emerson and I went over to the medical center right near our apartment, and I enquired about getting an appointment.  This was clearly the incorrect word, but I couldn't think of anything else to call it, so after several repititions the receptionist decided I must be pregnant (which sounds kind of like "appointment" if you say it in a funny accent, I guess), which about made me burst out laughing.  It sounds like no one makes appointments, you just wander in, and maybe the doctor is there and you see here sooner or later, but to bring the children here I needed something more clear.  He fetched the doctor herself, who said I could bring the girls "tomorrow morning."  I wondered if the time was any more specific, and she added "10 o'clock or after."  But with all that vagueness, when we walked in this morning the receptionist immediately said "you have an appointment" and we were brought directly in to the doctor.

Today is also Emerson's half-birthday, and he's been getting very excited about that.  I suggested that we might have some cake, because it seemed like it might be possible, and later I saw some for sale where we buy our bread.  So once Emerson was ready this morning (he is getting to bed and waking up later and later; the Ugandans eat late, but Emerson seems to have missed the part about napping for the afternoon), we went down to the market area near our house and bought some cupcakes, then brought them back to our apartment.  Then we walked up to the orphanage to fetch any medical records and Buttercup.  She appeared, dressed in an unusually coordinating and well-fitting outfit, which involved no pajamas.  She was obviously also told to expect something special, because she was looking out for me and smiled at us.  Buttercup's smiles go something like this: pause -- stare -- blink --- SMILE!

I put the paperwork in my bag and Buttercup in the ring sling, and we headed out again.  Buttercup has probably never or hardly been out of the orphanage gates since she arrived several months ago, so she was looking around in her quiet way but very intently, turning her head at each new noise.   The people along this lane must be getting used to watching Emerson and I pass, but I notice that I got a very different set of stares carrying one of their own babies along!  Although that could have been the sling, too; I've noticed the people here are very intrigued and amused at any other way of carrying children than the ways that they all use.

We walked down to the bigger road, off of which are located Hibiscus' school, our apartment, and the medical center, and down to the school office.  The office workers know me, and when I explained that I needed to pick her up, they assigned me a guide to the classroom, saying "this lady needs to get her daughter," which gives me a funny little thrill to hear!  Hibiscus knew we were coming, and was as delighted as any child who gets to leave school for a special errand -- as was her entire class, which all turned out to mill around us and see where we were going!

One of the interesting discoveries of the day was watching the sisters together.  In the orphanage, I see them interact occasionally, but I guess their personal relationship is subsumed in the dozens of relationships going on.  With just the three children, I could see how excited Hibiscus was to see her sister, and she went out of her way to comfort her, to help her wash up and so forth, and make sure that she got her fair share of everything.  In return, Buttercup chirped back at Hibiscus in her little voice, and carefully imitated what she was doing.

Which is closely related to another interesting discovery, which is that Emerson got to see the fun side of having siblings around.  With our visits to the orphanage, he's gotten to experience a lot of the sharing-mama side, which is not very fun at all.  Now, he had someone to play with while waiting around, and someone to chase and be silly while walking along, and someone else who thought that absurd things are funny at the lunch table.  I'm going to have to adapt to a LOT higher noise level around the house!

The doctor's visit went fine -- although I probably need to note that the consultation cost 5,000 Ugandan shillings, which is a little over $2.  I paid about $25 for each girl, which included the complete payment for the consultation, the lab fees, and several medications each.  And also, that my estimate that Buttercup was about 20 pounds was spot-on perfect!  Naturally, plenty of waiting was involved, and all three children were somewhere between crabby and crazy by the time we left -- Buttercup in a very subtle manner, the older two not subtley at all!  

Next we walked next door to our apartment for lunch.  I'm sure that bringing the girls to my house isn't officially proper, and that I shouldn't have even been able to take them to the doctor by myself, but by now I have observed that basically nothing at this orphanage is run in the officially proper way at all, so I felt no guilt about it whatsoever.  Besides, I figured that if they are later going to come here and live with us, they will feel more comfortable and confident if they have visited our home already.  

The visit was a joy, in the way that often the most simple things about being with children are the most joyful.  Both girls were so fascinated and delighted to come here, and Emerson was so excited and proud to show them around.  Their eyes were just so sparkly; there is no way to describe it.  Buttercup quickly started playing with the toys in the living room while Hibiscus explored farther afield.  She was so incredibly fascinated with the flush on the toilet that I gather she had never seen one before!  (Normal sitting toilets are fairly common here, although not quite as much as squat toilets, but something is usually long-since broken and they are "flushed" with a bucket of water from a spigot.)  Then she became intrigued with the light switches, and flitted around like a little butterfly, jumping on furniture to reach all the switches and see what they operated.  Then she would point to the light and cry "mommy, look!"

I made them bowls of mixed fruit for lunch, with a little yogurt on the side.  (Hibiscus saw me mix them together, so she mixed hers too!)  Emerson exclaimed that he had no silverware, so I brought all three children forks.  I haven't seen them using silverware at the orphanage, but the children diligently used them for the entire meal.  I assume they do use silverware sometimes, but I'm not sure if they were so dedicated to silverware because they thought it was polite, or if it was simply fascinating.  I suspect the latter for Buttercup, who was very serious in her fork-weilding, although most of the time she poked it into the food, pulled it straight out with nothing on it, and licked it thoughtfully.  She drank her yogurt from a cup, and the top rim of the cup got yogurt on her forehead.  The older children thought this was the funniest thing ever, and egged each other on in laughing while Buttercup smiled gently and returned to her yogurt.  Emerson got so excited he started smearing yogurt on random parts of his face to make Hibiscus laugh even harder -- it was definitely a more exciting lunch than he usually has with me!

Then we ate the cupcakes and Emerson insisted we sing Happy Birthday, which the girls knew, although I'm sure they have not the slightest conception of half-birthdays and why we were singing!   We don't even know how old Buttercup is, least of all when their half-birthdays might be!

After some wandering and playing (including her third trip to the amazing toilet), Hibiscus flitted over to the sink.  She ended up washing all the dishes, wiping off the table, and then later carefully and neatly making the bed.  I'm not sure what was her motivation.  It could be that those were her chores or the household routine before she came to the orphanage, and she was simply following what she thought was expected.  It could be that it is fun for a little girl to play Mommy and do household chores involving lots of soap bubbles, especially when she hasn't had the chance for months.  I hope she isn't trying to prove to me that she is useful and helpful, in hopes that I will decide to keep her.

By then Emerson had wandered upstairs with the neighbors, and the girls into the bedroom.  Hibiscus wanted to pretend to sleep in our bed, and wanted to boost Buttercup in too, and I climbed in next to them.  They lay there, Hibiscus curled on her side, taut as a live wire, peeking at me sidelong to see if she was being too mischievious, and thrilled that she wasn't being evicted.  Buttercup, on the other hand, lay on her back, her tummy filled like a giant balloon, smiling vaguely and all ready for her afternoon nap.  I thought having them fall asleep there wasn't quite the right idea, but before I could work too hard to move them Hibiscus had decided she needed everyone out in order to make the bed in a perfect and precise way anyway.

They played for a few more minutes before I decided that it was really time to go back.  I didn't think that anyone really cared where we were, but thought it was better to get back before someone started worrying about it.  Extracating them from out house was quite a challenge.  As far as I could tell, Buttercup mostly didn't want to put down her toy and didn't think too much more of it, but Hibiscus knew that putting on her shoes meant going back to the orphanage, and she wanted to stay here with all her heart and soul.  Just like Emerson with his "just one more" she kept showing me that she needed to look at one more toy, open it, rearrange it, but her gestures had taken on a different, more chaotic turn than the playful but thorough way she had been playing the rest of the day.  (In fact, I was impressed that she hadn't tried to grab and touch every toy in the house first thing.)  Finally, I got Buttercup ready, and was debating whether to pick up Hibiscus and move her next to her shoes, when she folded in on herself with tears pouring down her face.  Then I did pick her up, and sat on the couch with her, and comforted her as best I could.  I need to make sure tomorrow, that the orphanage workers have made it clear what is going on in her situation; that I CAN not just bring her home, and that it has nothing to do with whether I like her or she's a good girl.  

Eventually, she started wondering where Emerson was, and the idea of going upstairs to find him intrigued her and she bolted off my lap.  I got all the shoes and packs out our apartment door and locked it behind me while all three children were busy on the stairwell, which ended the debate about which way we were going!  However, Hibiscus still managed to walk at an amazingly sedate pace all the back!

She started talking about chapatis, and this got everyone excited.  I don't want to make too much of our relationship about buying treats, but a chapati is a pretty minor one and a pretty healthy one, especially since now it was well after 2.  So I bought us chapatis, and the older kids munched theirs on the way back, which perhaps made it less painful walking!  I shared one with Buttercup, since she seemed to have eaten until she was about ready to burst already.  What is really amazing is that when we did arrive back at the orphanage, they appeared happy to give them lunch although the other children had finished, and when we were leaving both girls were tucking into their third lunch of the day!

Hibiscus' sad moods depart as dramatically as they arrive, and by the time we  the orphanage she was chatting with a friend and seemed as happy as a lark.   But still, her desire to settle in with a home and family is as clear as day and as powerful as a river.  What was also striking today was how much more easy and natural both children were at our home.  Hibiscus settled into a task smoothly and with concentration, instead of darting about.  Minor disputes did not immediately awaken her defensiveness.  Buttercup was also much more confident and focused in her play, and not only did she smile much more often, but I saw a number of other expressions cross her face.  I heard her little voice chirping along with us on a number of occasions.  As their first time in a dramatically new place, I'm sure neither of them were at their truly natural behavior, but the difference between this and what I see at the orphanage is night and day.

The day was a treat for all of us.  We got to learn a little bit about what it means to be together and work together. I got to feel the logistics of moving around with three little children.   I think Emerson got to feel what it means to get to play with siblings.  I think the whole idea started to become real to Buttercup, since it involved a meal and a bed!  I think both girls became able to trust me a little bit more.  And I think Hibiscus has a new, more concrete direction for all her goals and prayers right now!

Visits with the children

Visits with the Children

We have been visiting the orphanage almost every day, and sometimes in the morning and afternoon.  I think we are getting to know most of the children and they are getting to know us, and our visits there are feeling a little less chaotic.  A little!  If I had ever thought it would be a good idea to have 15 children of my own, let alone with about a five year span between them, spending time with these children will have disabused me of that notion.  I am so aware of my own inadequacy to give everyone the basic acknowledgement and affection that they require.

There are about 14 or 15 children who are usually clustered around me.  In the mornings, Hibiscus and Hosta are at school, and sometimes some of the younger children are distracted or inside with the nannies.  There are also about five more older babies or very young toddlers, who sometimes are out with us or nearby, but aren't so active and insistent.  When I come in the gate, if the children are out several of them come running up and grab me and cry "mommy!"  They are eager first of all for hugs and greetings, and then they are curious what I have brought with me.  Usually I bring a few books and one activity.  I try to balance bringing the novel and the familiar, and not so much that it gets overwhelming or I lose track of it.  I wish I could leave some toys and books with them, but things get ruined.  They love looking at the books so much, once I left a few sturdy little board books when we were coming back in the afternoon -- and already one was ripped to pieces and destroyed.

They are starting to understand my patterns.  For instance, if I'm playing some game with each child in turn, their tendency is to all crowd around and push each other out of the way and demand their own turn, and as soon as they finish they are pushing and yelling for another chance.  They are starting to understand that I give each child a turn before starting over, and I've started to put my hand on the head of the next several children to indicate how the "line" stands, so they know they've been heard.  The older children, especially, are understanding this system, and after I acknowledge them they are more content to stand quietly to the side, knowing that they will get their turn.  Some of them are also very "helpful" insofar that they will grab away the children who have already had their turn and so are not in line any more, or slap at them if they try and get close.  Slapping and yelling and the occasional kick seems to be the way that the older children keep the younger ones in check, and it is constant.  

Anything that I bring to play with or look at totally engages the whole group of children, in their various and lively ways.  They are so eager to see anything new and figure out any challenge -- which is how things get ruined, when their own experiments turn towards the ripping and chewing side.  

Sometimes when we arrive before the nap time is over, one of the nannies will go and bring out out Hibiscus and Buttercup for us (other times no one is around whatsoever, and we just have to leave).  The other day I had started a game of Memory with Hibiscus and Emerson.  They both understood the game and got the pairs quickly, so I got out a larger group of cards, but at that time the wind was picking up and blowing away all the cards, so we moved our game inside.  The other children were just getting up, and two or three more joined our game.  The rest of them were soon crowded all around, watching attentively.  They actually did a very good job of watching the players and not interfering (of course, because some of the older children enforced the peace!).  The funny thing was that a couple of the new players had no idea what the game was.  They love taking turns -- or rather, they love getting their turn -- so they were very eager to play, but turned over cards at random, until someone slapped them for turning over too many cards.  Tulip is an older boy with a gentle temperment, and he kept turning over two random cards, putting them back, and giving me an angelic smile.  After that game finished, all the children wanted to play.  I hoped that I could set up two games, and leave the original bunch of children -- including Emerson and Hibiscus, who understood what was going on -- in the first circle and start a new game with several more children, but this was overly optimistic of me.  First of all, Hibiscus mostly wanted to be close to me and prevent anyone else from being close to me, so she prowled around between games and demanded things go her way.  Emerson, on the other hand, decided to play the game in a different way, which he explained in his cheerful monologue, of course totally confusing the children who could have imitated what they had seen but had no idea what he was talking about.  He was left with his one special friend, Daffodil, and pretty soon they ran off outside anyways.  

Meanwhile, I was trying to make something joyful for a group of children who included rule-enforcing early elementary schoolers, as well as preschoolers who just wanted a turn to touch the lovely cards.  Most of the older ones quickly picked up the idea that you were trying to turn over two cards and make a pair.  What was a great deal more confusing was the idea that you went in a circle and everyone got a turn.  As soon as someone saw a pair, they wanted to go immediately and pick it up.  Luckily for these greedy pair-getters, half the time the interim children were the ones who had no idea about the pairs and happily turned the one or two cards closest to them over, and then back again, so the first child got the pair anyways.  The most complicated rule was whether, when you get a pair, then your turn continues until you miss a pair, or whether everyone gets one chance to turn over cards, period.  I had been playing with the former rule with the small group, but with the confusion over basic turns the game had turned into everyone getting one turn, period.  Except for one child who had clearly observed that he ought to get as many turns as he could keep getting pairs, and firmly insisted on it.  Then there was Hibiscus, who know how to play perfectly well, but had gotten grumpy about the chaos (and less attention from me) so she kept grabbing cards out of turn, trying to prevent other people from turning over cards, and wandering away when it was her turn.  For a while she took an entire row of cards for her own, and brooded over them intently before putting them back.  Despite all this, the game went on, and the children were having fun more often than they weren't.

Several times I have brought a set of small colored stacking cups.    This morning the group of children sat around me playing with them for well over an hour.  They are a very simple toy but there is quite a bit that one can do with them: I started today by handing them out when a child asked for a color, and then letting them play with their group, but demonstrating myself several different things to do.  For the younger ones, it is quite a challenge just to stack the little cups into towers, and they were mostly content to stack a few until they fell over, and then re-do it.  Some of the little ones held them in their hands and experimented with how they slid together and apart in their fingers.  Some of the older ones started sorting them by color or lining them up other ways.  Mostly, they understood that the blocks that they had were their own to play with, and were defensive about anyone else getting them but willing to hand spilled ones back to the correct child.  Except for Dandelion.  Most of the older children ended up with  lot of blocks and the younger ones had a few, which suited the games they were trying to play very well, but Dandelion had amassed a huge pile.  I'm not even sure he had figured out what to do with them, but he had the strong idea that it was better to GET them.  I kept hearing squalls when he grabbed a handful from the nearest little child, or then yells from Dandelion when one of the other children tried to actually play with his blocks.  On the other hand, Tulip showed the first generosity that I have seen among the children.  Like the other older children, he had a large stache, and I repeatedly saw him giving a few blocks to little ones whose blocks had mysteriously vanished.  

And now, it is 5 o'clock.  The children will be up from their afternoon rest and we should head back up there to see what kind of joyful chaos awaits us!

Fostering and laughter (to be continued)

At our lawyer's recommendation, our current goal is to get a foster care order for Hibiscus and Buttercup, and then they can live with us in our little apartment until the rest of the paperwork is complete.  According to the lawyer, a foster care order is legally equivalent to a care order recommending them to an orphanage, except it is easier to obtain and will present a stronger case when we apply for guardianship.  According to the children, this would be a million times better.  They are not doing very well in the orphanage -- I don't think anyone would be.  We had our first round of meetings last week, and will hopefully have another set of documents ready to bring back for another meeting this week.  When the probation officer is satisfied that there are "extraordinary circumstances" meaning that the children really cannot live with their parents or relatives, she can write out a document saying that they will be better off living with us.

We had a nice visit with The Children yesterday afternoon.  When we got there, most of the children were still napping, except for Hosta, who was out on the lawn getting her hair done.  It seems like a lot of the love shown towards the children involves getting their hair done, which is a long (and fairly painful) process.  This time, it involved many braids getting woven into Hosta's inch or so of hair.  Emerson was intrigued and spent a while watching, and apparenly the nannies offered to do his haiI r too, but he told me he didn't want them too!

Emerson in Africa

Emerson in Africa

Right now, Emerson is out on the green lawn in front of our apartment, doing soccer exercises with the Kenyans.  There is a family here while the father is working for the UN, with two boys who are 10 and 12.  Through mutual gregariousness, and the magnetic attraction that boys have towards other boys, they befriended each other the very first day.  The older boys have a genial tolerance and friendliness towards the much littler one, and happily play at kicking the ball around or hide and seek.  This morning while eating breakfast, we saw the big boys out with their dad on the lawn, all wearing their soccer outfits, the dad coaching them through various exercises and preparations, obviously very serious about their football.   Emerson couldn't wait to get his clothes on and run out and join them.  I hoped he wouldn't get in their way, but figured when you live in an apartment you can't stop other children from playing on the lawn too; but the father smoothly switched to English and coaches all three boys.  Now they are all earnestly stretching and sideways-running and high-leg jumping across the lawn: the two big Kenyan boys in their sports uniforms, the tall and athletic father, and one little bitty dandelion-headed boy in a button-up shirt.

So, Emerson has decided that he is going to get dark brown skin and look just like the Ugandans.  Perhaps this is my fault; after just reading a book about children's racial development, and that in the preschool stages they notice skin color but not race, and don't yet realize that people can't switch colors at will and at random, I shouldn't have made a joke like that.  I saw Emerson's hand "helping" hold something next to a black man's hand, and couldn't beleive how dark my boy had gotten in just a couple of days here, so later I commented he was going to get so tan he was going to be as dark as the Ugandans.  This is now his goal, and my observation about his hair being silky instead of wooly and his eyes being blue and so forth has made no impact; he is sure he is going to look just like a Ugandan any day now.  He observes that his elbows are almost there.

I am not positive why the desire to look Ugandan: if it is simply that he wants to be part of the majority, or he doesn't want to be singled out as looking different any more.  I think that actually he thinks if he looks like the Ugandans he will be able to understand their language. It really bothers him that he can't understand what the other children are saying.

Emerson is very popular amongst all the random Ugandans, on the street or in the minibus or at the market or among the children.  Women love to call out "Hello Bay-bee, how you doing?" and they long for him to answer, but they laugh when he does.  Children on the street call out "hello mzungo" (which means "white person") as we pass -- actually, many of them are more enthusiastic about the "bye mzungo" part as we are just past them.  A few of them have asked for names and remember his and call "hello Eh-son" instead.  It's very hard for Emerson to recognize the pronounciation, and he struggles with understanding even the English words.   Some of the older girls want to walk with us and hold his hand.  To me, this attention seems different from what I remember as a girl in Asia, when many women just wanted to see what my hair and skin felt like and maybe thought I was like a little walking doll: this seems like natural gregariousness and friendliness, and pretty much how the children would treat each other.  Emerson is obviously noticeable and special because he and I look so different, but I think it's more like the children want to be friends with the special boy than to just have the chance to touch or gawk at him.  However, the whole thing makes Emerson feel awkward, and he usually doesn't want to answer or hold hands.  I remember being a singled-out white child and how terribly awkward it feels, so I can empathize deeply, but at the same time, my understanding of the situation is that if would just smile or say something back or otherwise act naturally, the situation would actually become fairly natural.  The children want to make friends and he wants friends too.

None of the adults have touched him (or me) randomly or inappropriately at all (meaning feeling our hair or skin or otherwise touching us for no real reason), but the culture here is a lot more affectionate and physical with children than it is back home.  For instance, whenever we get into or out of a minibus the "conducter" will lift Emerson up and hand him to me, or lift him down; when we went on the boat the driver cradled him in his arms to get him to and from his seat; if he falls down near someone else they will lift him up and brush him off.  When we had a driver or a guide from the orphanage, they told him not to touch things or to wait.  They were very appropriate comments, but in our culture we have very stiff walls around other people's children and that it is not allowed to help them or tell them what to do.  I actually like this way much better: it seems natural to pick up a little child who falls at my feet, or keep them from grabbing something dangerous, when I am right there.  And frankly, I think a child listens better when he hears the same message from different adults; and safer if he knows it's not only mom who is going to watch out for him.

Emerson tells me that he has made "a friend" at the orphanage.  I think all of the children would consider him their friend, but perhaps they seem, collectively, a little too overwhelming, not to mention similar.    I know our eyes tend to be attuned to the type of people we are used to seeing, so it is a little harder for us to distinguish amongst all these children, who are of the same tribal ethnicity, which we are not used to seeing at home.  But it gets more confusing than that: they all have the same haircut (a little bit of fuzz), and they all wear the same clothes.  Clearly there is a big box and anyone puts on anything, so one day a little boy is wearing a dress that drags on the ground, and the next day a big girl has on the same dress as a tunic over leggings.  It is amazing how confusing this is!  Anyway, Emerson has "his friend," who is a girl of about 5 or 6 who apparently is good at running around doing something complicated with a plastic card or a stick.  Whether or not Emerson and Daffodil agree that that they are playing the same game is unknown, but Emerson at least has a complicated narration to go along with it, which Daffodil doesn't seem to argue with.

All the orphanage children have been learning from Emerson, though.  The main method of teaching here is call and response, and obviously imitation is the main way in which little kids all over learn, so Emerson has had a great opportunity to teach the children to say "stop copying me."  However, what they have taken most to heart is "not funny."  We can now overhear the children, in random other parts of the grounds, scuffling with each other and yelling "not funny!", which apparently they have observed means something generally to do with frustration -- and nothing whatsoever to do with funniness.

A Day in the City

A Day in the City

I take back anything I said about Kampala being gentler and greener than other similar cities I've visited: we found the dirty and chaotic part.  Today we went into downtown Kampala for an appointment with the lawyer, and then I figured we might as well explore for the day.  What a day!  It's exceptionally nice to get home and put my feet up.

We live just past the very end of Ggaba Road, so we started at the very end of the minibus route and took it all the way in to the other end.  Miss B told us that from the last minibus stop, it was not far to the lawyer's office, but too far to walk, so we should take a boda-boda.  These are the extremely precarious looking motorcycles, which we both wanted to avoid.  I've seen car taxis, so we found one of those and took it.  I didn't know the right price, but I am quite sure he dramatically cheated us with what he charged, and I'm still grumpy about that.  It does make one funny little story though: we needed to go to the UTS Insurance Building, which is next to the Kampala Casino.  Even though the building is obviously a major one, the driver didn't know it but he knew the casino.  I told him several times we didn't want it, we wanted the insurance building, but he attempted to drive through the guarded gates anyways.  I think the guard was thoroughly confused why anyone was trying to drive into the casino at 9 in the morning!

The lawyer was much more forthcoming with advice about how to walk around the area and what to see, so after our appointment we set off.  There is apparently not that much of tourist-y interest in the main part of the city; most of the sites are off in different directions.  (Actually, there is not an awful lot in Kampala in general; most tourists come to see the gorillas and the birds.)  But personally, I find the most interesting part of traveling is just walking around and seeing how people do things and what the streets and the people and the buildings and everything looks like and works, so I didn't mind walking around to a couple of different destinations.

Here is what the afternoon's schedule would have looked like with typical travellers:

-walk past parliament and government buildings, take some pictures and read plaques

-lunch and bookstore in mall-y area (quick stop for Ugandan history books); check major grocery store for a couple of simple items not available in local tiny market

-walk through city area to Sheraton gardens

-if tired, tea at Sheraton before exploring gardens

-walk towards where to find minibus

-go through street market area and explore

-perhaps sidetrip to the busiest market in Uganda

Here is what the afternoon looked like with a four-year-old:

-walk past parliament buildings, which you see out of the corner of your eye as you try to keep your child out of traffic, and explain in some reasonable fashion about all the men with guns, and then answer even more questions about guns

-lunch in mall area overlooking beautiful golf course

-bookstore: spend an hour trying to keep your child from spending the entire afternoon in the extensive and beautiful toy area, children's area, and trinket area, while quickly grabbing a couple of inexpensive books about Uganda because you don't want to spend much money given that you have no chance to peruse the books.  Read several fairy tales written for babies, multiple times each.  At least it is cool and dim.

-go all the way to the top of the center, then all the way to the bottom.  Your child needs to run headlong down all the ramps between floors, making vehicular sounds.  You are glad that Ugandan people seem to like small, active children, and mostly move out of the way with a smile.

-try to convince child to go in grocery store, but cooperation is about out.  It ends completely when he sees a coin-operated ride-on helicopter, which you did not put him in.  Escape grocery store, but deal with a full-fledged tantrum on the ramp to the lower floor to find a bathroom.

-pee

-go up all the floors again, and finally find the fenced in outdoor playground you saw from the outside on the second-to-top floor

-playground

-urgent poop break

-back to playground

-drag child out of playground before you both faint in the 2 pm African sunshine

-commence long and whiney walk back up to town.  Child insists that he gets his energy from a strange way of putting his fingers in his backpack straps, which means that he cannot hold hands properly, which is not acceptable.  Finally, as you pass the major upscale hotels, child is distracted with more questions about men with guns.

-have tea and cake at the Sheraton cafe.  (Guess who has tea and who wants cake!)  Child skips maniacally through the marble hallways on the way to and from the bathroom, which happens in order to be clean enough to eat cake, and then to be clean enough to be done eating cake.  Child is happy to rest and color for a while, but very abruptly is climbing on top of chair and asking loud questions.  You are counting very hard on that Ugandan small-child patience, but unfortunately the hotel also is full of foreigners.

-find way into famous gardens

-spend almost all garden time in the playground

-start walking back towards where to catch the minibus

-walk towards fascinating market area, but you cannot risk stopping in because it is not a good place for a meltdown.  You are not allowed to pay attention to all the fascinating sights anyways, because you are supposed to be telling about Hansel and Gretel, or someone's legs will stop.  He does a good job walking along, though.

-survive walking through some of dramatic round-a-bouts imaginable, and get to the minibus stop

-take the minibus all the way to the end of the line, with a tired and slightly damp child draped across you lovingly, getting his orange-dust-y shoes on the very patient businessman in the next seat.  Despite the tired limpness, he manages to ask questions the entire way home.

What an adventure!                                                                                  

Boat Ride, plus Many Fits

Boat Ride, plus many fits

Yesterday we finally managed to do something touristy!  We met a very nice man with a boat at the market a few days ago, and Emerson has been begging to go back and take a boat ride ever since.  I have been putting him off for getting all sorts of other more business-y things done, and I thought finally we had a day where we could go.  It seemed even better for a boat ride because the day was overcast and hopefully wouldn't be too hot and bright.

Our previous night was late, and Emerson woke up late.  Then we had to deliver some supplies to the school, which is in the market area near out home.  After that I checked email at the internet cafe, which I was pleasantly surprised to find was working better first thing in the morning.  Then my plan was to go up to the orphanage, but Emerson threw his first round of fits in the internet cafe,  which involved screaming at me and throwing the plastic lawn chairs around as we were leaving.  I was very upset and embarrassed, especially as I have heard Africans are strict with their children, and the Ugandan children don't seem to throw fits in public (although for that matter, you don't see American children throwing fits all the time either; you mostly notice when your own child does).  At any rate, everyone here seems more amused with Emerson than I am.  I don't know if that's because he's considered little enough to get a free pass, or if children with fluffy blond hair are allowed to get away with behavior that ordinary children aren't, or simply because bad behavior always bothers the mother more than anyone!

At any rate, I figured we couldn't do the 20-minute walk to the orphanage like that, and so we went home.  By the time Emerson was calmed down, it was too late to get to the orphanage before they went inside for their lunch and bath and nap, but we were well rested and fed and cuddled, so I thought we would try and get our boat ride in.

We went down to the market, but we couldn't find our friendly boatman.  We sat on the concrete steps and watched the busy port and the birds overhead for a while.  The boats are all shaped like giant canoes, the larger of which have outboard motors on the back, and some of the smaller ones are paddled by three men.  The concrete docks are shaped like an F, with the first dock containing the fish market, and the second one seems piled with huge mounds of sand and rock, which men are busily shoveling into boats that are pulled up.  In the spaces between the docks, boats pull in and discharge passengers, firewood, goats, bags of bananas, coal, and all kinds of other things.  Meanwhile, several kinds of birds, large and small, whirl overhead and dive for fish.  It was quite fascinating.

After a few minutes, our friend showed up, with his boat loaded past the gunwhales with firewood.  He was pleased that we wanted to go out, but since it would take a long time to unload his boat, he found someone else to take us out.  I was quite disappointed about that, since the first man was friendly and spoke English quite well, so I think we would have heard all kinds of interesting stories as we went around, but I couldn't think of any way to refuse the new offer (especially since Emerson was so excited about going out).  Also, the boat ride cost more than I had expected; about $35 or $40.

Finally, we were headed out into the lake, with Emerson bundled into a too-large lifejacket.  (To my great surprise, he started to complain, then said cheerfully "I guess I'll just have to live with it!")  I guess I didn't plan the outing very well; if I had known how much wildlife was involved, I would have brought the bigger camera.  First we went by the island, which apparently has "only wild animals," although we saw some people by a boat-landing place, and then went over to a large dock which hosted ferries, which apparently come from Kenya and other countries, and travel all day and all night to get here.  We also saw a number of small fishing-canoes, with the three men paddling mightily through the waves of the great lake.  They leave behind soda bottle floating in the water, to hold up their nets.

The most interesting part was the swampy area on the far shore.  The plants were striking and beautiful, and there were so many birds!  We saw plunging birds and fishing birds and fluttering birds and duck-like birds, and little round messes in the trees that must be bird nests.  Hawks swirled high overhead, and every post and pillion of old structures in the water had a bird perched on each one.

And for the highlight of the trip, we saw a crocodile!  I didn't see his full body, but a sudden splashing and whooshing onto land, that was obviously a low animal, and the boat driver asked if I'd seen and confirmed what it was.  It was very fast!

When we were back at shore, since we were already in the market  I picked up some produce.  Emerson was cheerful during the boat ride (actually, he fell asleep for part of it), and he made it through the market, but on the walk home he started to get grumpy again.

So, have I told you about chapatis?  They are a street food, something like a cross between a tortilla and a pancake, and you can eat them plain or have them made into a Rolex, which is rolled up with eggs and possibly vegetables.  Since they are made and served piping hot, I decided they are safe to eat.  Emerson didn't want one for a while, but then he had one and thought it was the best thing ever and now all he ever wants is to eat a chapati.  He had wanted one that morning, and not gotten it because of throwing chairs, so I thought he had somewhat learned the lesson, but he hadn't, because he threw even worse fits going home.  He wanted his chapati right now this second, and I told him that we would go home, change out our things, put beans in hot water for dinner, and head right up to the orphanage.  We would get a chapati on the way out the door again.  

I will spare you all the details.  He threatened to run away, wouldn't hold my hand (by this point we were on the little-trafficked road), etc etc etc, and once we got home he wouldn't come in.  After half an hour or so of this, it was too late to get up to the orphanage and get back in time for dinner, so I had to decided to just make dinner and have an early bedtime.  Emerson finally came in and asked if he could have his chapati now, and got an ABSOLUTELY NOT, and there was a great deal more screaming.  I was pretty frustrated myself, because we had missed all our chances to go to the orphanage for the day.  Already I haven't been able to give the girls, and the other children, the ability to trust that we will come at a certain time, and not being there at all seemed more than a little unfair.  Then Emerson got all distraught that we hadn't gone to the orphanage too -- although of course it was all because he refused to go every time we had the chance!  So we had dinner and bed and promised to get up there in the morning.

After all that, I wasn't sure the treat of a boat ride was such a good idea after all, especially since I hadn't even been well prepared.  But at least I got to see a crocodile!

The Children

The Children

When we left Eugene on Friday, all we knew was that the mother had changed her mind, and that the girls we had been matched with were returned to their village.  The agency director in Portland said there might be another pair of girls in the orphanage, although he wasn't certain, and I responded that we would be interested in knowing more about them.  I guess there was another email while we were en route to Seattle, and by the time Emerson and I walked up the hill on Tuesday, these two little girls were all ready for us.  I had wondered so many times, mostly while waiting for Rehema, what the meeting would be like.  Here is what happened.

Like many buildings, the orphanage has a big wall with an iron gate around it, and it took a little while for someone to come open the gate.  There were a couple children playing outside; there is a lawn area, a slide, and a little merry-go-round.  The nanny offered us plastic lawn chairs to sit in, and disappeared inside.  Miss B, the orphanage director, had dropped us off at the hotel earlier and offered to tell us more when we were refreshed, so I was waiting to see her.  Meanwhile, the little boy who had been playing wandered over to me.  Gradually, he ended up leaning against me, his head on my knee, sucking his thumb.

After a little while, a couple more children popped out the door like bowling balls pop out from the conveyor belt, and they swirled around us and looked at us and talked to us and got in my lap.  When Miss B did appear, she had a chittering conversation with them that involved quite a bit of "mama" and "brother" while pointing to us.  I had said I was open-hearted about being matched with children, and I guess God took me at my word and paired me with children without even asking my permission!

Their are some complications about the girls' legal situation: they still have two parents.  Both parents are quite sick, homeless, and the mother abandoned the family some time ago.  They meet the legal definition of "orphan," but it's not as straightforward as if one or both parents were actually deceased.  I am hopefully meeting with a lawyer later this week to discuss the practicalities, and we will see what she says.  Meanwhile, it's kind of hard to consider these children "mine" when I know how many potential complications are ahead of us, but meanwhile I am getting to know them and doing the best I can on their behalf.  Hopefully they will benefit from a little bit of affection and attention, even if I can't continue it forever... although the better I get to know these lost little children (not just these girls, but all the children here), the more I realize the depth of their need and how badly they need for real, "forever" parents.  A few hugs and learning the names of colors seems like throwing drops into the Grand Canyon!

(I will give all the children flower names for the purpose of the internet.)

Hibiscus' paperwork says she is 4, but she looks and acts more like 5 or 6.  She is lively and full of energy and delight, unless she has folded in on herself and is very quiet and shy.  She can communicate in English better than any of the other children at the orphanage, although the older ones mostly know a few words and all the children can sing little songs.  She always runs right up to me with a big huge smile, and tries very hard to communicate, making sure to call me "Mommy" at every opportunity.  (Although I've noticed that most of the children call all their caregivers Mommy, or maybe every nice woman is Mommy!)  Most all of the children at the orphanage, except the littlest ones, are excited to sing songs and listen to books and count things and play with the games, but Hibiscus is especially focused and determined to figure things out -- and show me what she has done!

She is bright and bossy and active and has her hands into everything -- until she isn't.  She will suddenly lay down or fold in on herself, like she is just trying to vanish into the dirt, like if she's still enough, she really is gone.  I've known a lot of spirited children who flop over, but there's a different quality to hers.  Instead of hoping for attention or affection by dropping out of the game, she's just shutting down.  

We enrolled Hibiscus in school a couple of days ago.  Apparently the children can go to the school down the hill (which is actually right near our apartment), is someone bothers to enroll them and pay the nominal fees.  Hopefully being in a regulated and stimulating environment will be a lot more positive place for Hibiscus to spend her day, than bouncing around the orphanage like a ping pong ball.  Actually, she is very helpful with the younger children, and I often see the nannies giving her jobs.  She is one of the most dynamic children here, and bosses the other children around: when one of the boys took a toy from a younger child, she snatched it right back out of his hands, yelled at him, and gave it back to the little one.  Her technique could use some work, but her heart seems to be in the right place!

Buttercup is tiny and folded in on herself, but when she opens up and smiles she is bright inside!  She is obviously overwhelmed and intimidated in the chaotic orphanage environment, but when we have spent more time alone together, she became much more open and confident.  When we arrived in the afternoons, sometimes all the children were inside but they sent Hibiscus and Buttercup out to us outside.  (I'm not sure what the children were doing inside, or if they were kept inside to be out of our way.)  Emerson and Hibiscus are both dynamic and quick, and started eagerly playing with the stacking blocks I had demonstrated with all the children that morning.  Buttercup took her handful of blocks protectively, and carefully and precisely imitated exactly what we had been doing.  She was slow, but I was impressed how well she stacked the little cups, and how she kept getting better and better as she kept working on it.  I put some cups on my fingertips and tapped out a rhythm.  The older children stayed busy with their projects, but a few minutes later Buttercup had cups on her fingers and was pounding away.  When the game ended and the older children ran off to play on the slide, Buttercup helped me clean up every one of the blocks.  She looked around carefully, leaned over from the waist like all the African women, and grabbed one block or a handful.  I said "in the bag!" every time she dropped them in, and once when I was a little late she looked at me very carefully to see what had happened.  Now she is excited to pick up anything for me, and just beams when I say "in the bag!"

With all the children around, she is difficult to engage.  She defends her space and screeches if someone steps on her or takes what she has, but she is not very proactive in participating or making sure she has a turn.  I have been putting her in the sling and carrying her a lot, which she seems to enjoy, but neither does she ask for it or cling to me.  I think she will need a lot of confidence building and security before she is ready to do more.  But here's a little story about why she's a buttercup, not a shrinking violet.  The other morning I was doing a song and story using some little Flower Feeling dolls, and afterwords the children were so excited to hold and stroke the little dolls.  I gave one to Buttercup, and she toddled away with Happy in a determined manner.  A few minutes later, she came back around the side of the house, with a big proud smile when she looked at me.  She had something special to show me: she had given Happy a bath!  He was all sopping wet now!  It didn't take long before the other children were also running off to douse the dolls in the water tank, so I decided it was time to take them back.  But the memory of her proud smile as she looked into my eyes and had something special to show me warms my heart.   

But describing two children is misleading.  There are children everywhere -- actually, that is not quite true; when I arrive, I am by far the most interesting part of their day, and all the children cluster around me.  They push and shove to get close to me, and the ones who aren't good shove-ers compensate by being good cry-ers.  They want to sit on my lap and hold my hands, and they want to see whatever I have brought.  They grab and they hit each other to get to whatever it is, then someone starts to scream, then a wet swamp of pee muddles its way down the patio.  A few of the children do not seem mentally or emotionally capable of engaging in the group activity, and they sit or stand towards the back, looking vacantly on, and sometimes getting stepped on.  I would guess there are about 20 children in the orphanage: six of them are around 5 or 6 (now two of those go to school in the mornings); maybe another eight or so are babies or very young toddlers (although these are usually inside with the nannies); and the rest are this gaggle of needy and wanty and lovey and fussy 2 or 3 year olds.  

Violet is constantly sad.  She comes right over to me and wants to be held, so I put her in the sling and carry her with me.  She could be in that sling forever.  She doesn't protest when I put her down, but she doesn't do anything else, either.  She wants to be near me, but she doesn't sing the songs or act interested in the books.  I think she is mentally capable of thinking and participating -- I've seen flashes of it here and there -- but she is completely shut down.  When she's not in the sling, the only thing that seems to happen is that one of the other children will push her or touch her and she starts to scream.  SO many tears pour out!

Then there is Dandelion, who is a little pest.  Clearly, he thinks that getting some reaction is better than no reaction, so he busies himself getting reactions all day long.  He has clearly also discovered that other children are highly reactive, so he is always reaching over to hit or grab or tweak, also resorting to more creative parries such as pinching and putting his hand on a head (which might have been an attempt to imitate my comforting gesture, but it made Violet scream).  But it is amazing how quickly he is redirected -- to anything!!  You know how, in modern parenting, it is suggested that you simply redirect instead of punish.  In my life, at least, redirecting is usually met with "but I wanted tha-AAAAAA-aaaat one!" or something of the like.  Dandelion just wants something, anything.  If I tell him he did a good job putting a puzzle piece back, he applies himself furiously to putting puzzle pieces in the pile (which, of course, soon devolved into stealing them from children who were using them, which defeated the purpose but the intent was still clear!).  If I hold his hand and stroke his head, he smiles like an angel and isn't at all interested in hitting.  When I held his hands to stop his onslaughts against the other children, he started pinching me, but then I started bouncing his hands up and down rhythmically, which fascinated him.  I held both his hands in one of mine, which he bounced up and down and I occasionally said "whoom!" or whatever silly noise it was, for 10 or 15 minutes while I tended to other children and organized chaos with the other hand and the rest of my attention.  (I finally had to get up; he wasn't bored yet.)  Such a little bit of attention, and all the pestiness vanishes into such a sweet smile.

Then there are Marigold and Hosta.  They both have calmer temperments, getting pushed aside in the general rush, but they both bright and interested children.  Along with Hibiscus, they understand a reasonable amount of English, and are eager both to learn more and to show me what they know.  Marigold, a little boy, is always angling for a better view of the book, and wants to point out to me what he sees in the picture.  If I teach him a new word, he is eager to find it and use it.  Hosta is the other girl who goes to school, and she probably knows more English than she uses.  She has the biggest, brightest smile on her shy face.  Despite being the biggest child there, she always wants to leap up into someone's arms for a hug.  Today she wanted to hold the Old MacDonald book and sing the song over and over, although she did try and ask me what one of the animals was, and then she wanted to do the puzzle and take it apart and do it again forever.  Marigold spent the whole remainder of my visit, after I was done actively reading to the children, with one book, which he studied with such intense concentration.  I wish I could leave books and games for Marigold and Hosta, but they would soon be lost and destroyed in the melee of rough play.

The solutions seem so simple: Violet needs to be held.  Buttercup needs to be praised.  Dandelion needs a physical game.  Hosta needs to sit on my lap and rread books read 

forever.

Part I of The Apartment Story

The apartment; or, the 700,000 shilling day

To begin with: the hotel was pleasant enough, but a meal at the restaurant involved waiting for hours, barely edible food, and paying nearly as much as we paid for spending the night.   Also, doing business in Uganda seems to involve collecting an extraordinarily large number of people together, whereupon they all sit around and wait.

The second day that we were here, we went on a long expidition to procure a cell phone and look at apartments.  We had a driver and a translator (a teacher from the orphanage), and picked up various other people as we went along.  All these people managed to find us two apartments, the second one of which seemed promising and was immediately available.  While waiting (two hours) for our dinner, I decided that we might as well move in the next day.  Here is the story of that quite spectacular day.

First of all, we (meaning Emerson) are waking up very early, before 6.  With all the ordinary (extraordinary?) dallying over morning getting-ready routine, we still arrived at the breakfast buffet as it was arriving gradually, in pieces.  I suggested to the hotel clerk that we might check out today,  packed up our bags, and headed up to the orphanage.  The day before, our morning request had turned into a vague "after lunch" meeting with the driver, who arrived 30 minutes after the named hour, so I was quite surprised when the driver arrived within minutes and everyone was prepared to move us out.  "Everyone" -- remember the part about collecting extra people?  Today, the guard at the orphanage thought we ought to look at a different apartment and stay there instead, so after quite a bit of discussion Simon came along too, and we would check out another place.

First, we had to get our bags from the hotel -- which seemed to actually have a check-out time, which surely must be the only "time" in Kampala.  Our bags did not all fit in the little car, so we put the others behind the desk -- so remember, this entire story takes place with half our worldly possesions in the car with us, but whatever it was that I particularly needed, it was sure to be in the other suitcases.  I went to pay my bill, which took tens of thousands of shillings.  There are about 2500 Uganda shillings to the dollar, which means it's one of those currencies that gets very confusing as one gets to larger amounts.  It is not particularly relevant, but very typical, that the hotel desk did not have the last couple thousand shillings in change for me, so three hotel clerks, the driver, the guide, Emerson and I, sat around for probably 10 or 15 minutes while another clerk and a manager looked in all the other possible places for change.

The other apartment is off the end of Gaba Road (where we had been), and is within walking distance of a market area, the orphanage, AND Lake Victoria.  It is surrounded by trees and grass and quite quiet and peaceful, and spacious and open inside, so I decided that I liked it better than the place the day before (especially because of the walking distance).  Now there is no upfront declaration of logistics when apartment-hunting in Uganda; you have to look at everything and ask questions and the apartment-shower has to find other people who then call other people to answer your questions, and after everyone sits around gazing into space together for a while (except Emerson; he's bad at the gazing-into-space part), THEN they might tell you what the price is, or any other conditions.

So this apartment was not currently furnished, but it COULD be furnished, but what did we want, and we'd have to see about that.  I was glad I had Simon to negotiate for me; I know enough about negotiating to know the right balance of doubtfulness and demandingness, and I could recognize that Simon was striking that balance and that I would not have been able to exude the right kind of confidence.  The ridiculous thing at this point, was that they needed some time to collect the furniture and things, which I wouldn't have minded giving them, but I had JUST checked out of the hotel, so I actually couldn't.  Then the tricky part was that they didn't want to collect the furniture until they got payment, but we didn't want to pay them until we saw that they were actually going to collect the furniture.  That took a while of sitting around, during which the guy showing us the apartment collected another guy, and called his boss multiple times.  Also, Apartment Guy and Simon compared notes, and realized that they were from the North and the East of Uganda, and therefore they were "the same," and both very different from the way people are around here, so they could trust each other like brothers.  Once we were away, Simon told me that he didn't trust the guy with much of anything whatsoever, but it seemed to help at the time.  Then there was negotiating the price, and how much was going to be paid when and in what kind of currency.  All of this took a great deal of waiting for the boss to call back, during which my bored child inspired us to play Go Fish with the driver and Simon, which was quite charming.

We figured out the price, and then I had to go and get the money.  I had brought lots of cash with me, but not enough to plan on paying for a whole months' apartment rent on the third day.  So I searched through the suitcases to see how much I had; apparently still $360 in American dollars, and some shillings -- that is, a few hundred thousand.  He wanted $700 in dollars for the month; actually, he wanted two months up front, but I vetoed that.  So we headed back in towards town to find an ATM.  It was noon by this point, and Emerson and I were both getting starving and grumpy.  Remember the above part where I was surprised when the driver came so quickly?  That meant I had packed a couple hours' worth of snacks and water, not the whole day, so I had just enough snacks to take the edge off, and we finished our bottle of water.

The first ATM took my bank card, has us wait for a long time, spit the card back out, and froze.  It took a while to get someone from the bank to figure out that the network had failed and it wasn't just my card -- which had me worried!  

So we went to another ATM down the street.  This one took my bank card, and allowed me to take out 700,000 shillings, which was not enough for the rent.  So I tried the credit cards I had brought, but they either didn't have a PIN or I didn't know it.  This ATM had no bank attached.  The first card wouldn't allow me to take out any more.

There followed a large amount of confusion about how much money I had, in the different currencies, and whether it was more or less than the rent amount.  It was made much more difficult by my hunger and the large number of zeroes involved.  Normally, I can multiply a hundred thousand by ten, but at the time I just couldn't imagine that we were actually up to a million, and still not getting very far.  Then, when we got back to the apartment, we were further confused by waiting for the Apartment Guy to call someone else to figure out what the exact exchange rate was, since the price had been quoted in dollars.  Meanwhile, Apartment Guy #2 arrived, carrying an official looking notebook which apparently didn't contain any official papers.  He helped us sit around and wait.

After a while we went downstairs to the apartment and sat around and waited while the Apartment Guys brought in a couch, which absolutely fascinated Emerson.  Then he brought in a box of dishes, and asked how many plates I wanted.  I said six.  He stared at his box for a while, and I realized it was only a set of four.  He said perhaps he would leave some bowls instead, and piled (very carefully, one at at time) four plates and two bowls.  I said I actually wanted bowls too.  Really, bowls?  So the bowls are carefully added to the pile.  Any small plates?  Yes, I want those too.  One?  No, another one? .... Another one? .... And thus was the entire box of four place settings unloaded very gradually.

After a while, Simon suggested that I stay there to direct the possibility of furniture entering, while he and the driver went to get lunch.  I managed to not start crying before I said that Emerson and I wanted to get lunch as well.  Then there was a discussion about not leaving our bags with the Apartment Guys, whom Simon did not trust and Yassim apparently thought were swindlers of the worst nature.  Us, all our bags, and all my money headed off for lunch, and agreed to come back and meet the apartment owner at 5:00.

At this point, I had figured out that I had just a little bit left over after I would have paid the rent, with which I needed to feed Emerson and myself for the next 24 hours until I could use my bank card again.  So I was in that odd position of having enough money, but not nearly enough money actually available.

Fortunately, Simon took us to a different restaurant, where the meals were 2000-6000 apeice, instead of 22,000.  I decided to get rice, and beans, and that Emerson and I would share (which we had been doing all along), and then I would have enough left over for groceries that evening.

We had water, and tea, and waited and waited and waited for the waitress to come take our orders.  Eventually she meandered by, and I asked for rice: "no have."  Okay, we'll have the chips.  And an order of beans: "no have."  This was an even bigger disappointment; I just wanted something nice and plain after too much odd and greasy food.  I settled on chicken, which also cost three times as much.  She asked "two plates," which I took to mean that she would bring the food with two plates, and so I agreed.  The men had sat down with us, but after we had waited a while longer for the food, they announced that this place didn't have any food they liked, and they were going to walk somewhere else and be back before we finished.

After another eternity or so, our food came: TWO plates of chips and chicken.  I was so disappointed to see our food tab double, when it had already doubled!  I was also disappointed to see the two giant piles of chips, which was not the healthful kind of food we needed to make our tummies feel good.

Luckily, the chicken was actually pretty good.  We managed to eat almost everything, and I just figured that would have to be our main meal of the day (which turned out to be just as well).  The men were not yet back, but I was NOT going to sit around and wait for them any longer, so we went for a little walk; I figured they would see us going by, which they did, and of course I got a little scolding.

We all went up to   the orphanage for a while, to wait for 5:00 and the apartment owne

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