Court Date, Take 2

As we filed into the courtroom this afternoon, we passed another adoptive family on their way out.  Apparently not aware that we make a habit of hanging out in Family Court, on his way past the father murmured to me, "don't worry, she's nice."  I thought that well, some people must have a more straightforward situation than ours, because "nice" would have been about the last word that would pop into my mind to describe our last encounter with this judge!

Today our court session went more or less like one would imagine it should have gone the first time.  There was no interrogation session of the mother, as she swayed vaguely with either drunkenness or pain, and gave increasingly confusing and conflicted answers while staring off somewhere in the middle distance.  The probation officer had his ID card and his report written up, and the judge only asked if he had done one thing that he hadn't actually completed, instead of him standing there with his head hanging like a naughty schoolboy.  The judge did not need to demand multiple times "I am looking for the truth -- the TRUTH -- and I expect to hear it."  Nor did she repeat "you can tell I am already not happy about this situation."  And most importantly of all, the courtroom was not invaded with extra people who weren't on the lawyers' lists, saying such inflammatory things that they inspired almost everyone else in the room to stand up and start shouting.

In fact, this time the judge actually smiled.  Multiple times, especially at the children doing funny little child-like things.  Buttercup was sitting on my lap, and when I gave her one of her favorite song books, she started cheerfully singing about five little ducks in her piercing little chirping voice. I don't imagine that the judge gets serenaded very often!

This time our group was much smaller.  Miss B from the Babies' Home arrived with one aunt and a grandmother, who were the ones who have been somewhat involved in the children's welfare from the beginning.  The only hitch was that the father had gone to the clinic in the morning and then they couldn't find him there, but he made his way to the courthouse on his own and showed up a while after everyone else.  We came with our five-person family, and the children's teacher, Derrek.  The Probation Officer arrived on his own, and the lawyer had gotten a copy of his report earlier in the day.  Along with our lawyer and her assistant, that was our entire group.  The birth mother was not there, nor were a number of other relatives, nor the Local Council Official.  The disturbing aunties did not even bother to show up to clarify their position.

The judge started off my taking Mark's and my testimony.  It was a little confusing giving it, because we didn't know how much she was going to ask.  Afterwords, I was a little frustrated that I hadn't even gotten into talking about one whole area, because I hadn't realized that she was finished with me.  She started by asking Mark some logistical questions about his income and whether I had pressured him into agreeing to this adoption, and then she was pretty much done with him.  She didn't ask him anything about the girls or his relationship with them, although I'm sure she noticed that they spent most of the (very long) hearing vying for position on his lap.

The judge asked me why I wanted more children when I already had one and might have more.  With hindsight, I guess this is kind of the basic question of "why did you choose to adopt?" but the wording kind of threw me, and I was just thinking that it was an awfully strange question in a country with a birthrate of seven children per mother!  Why would I NOT want three instead of one?  She asked me some details about my stay here, and then I had said something about learning about them in the last few months, and she asked me what I had learned.  I spoke about their personalities shining through, and then described how passive and withdrawn Buttercup had been at the beginning, and the long slow process of her starting to trust me, and how lively she was now.  I mentioned that Hibiscus had opened up and told me stories about her former life, and the judge asked "like what."  I had written up a document of all her stories, and I felt a little hesitant to go into them in front of Hibiscus and her father right there, but I just dived in and gave an overview.  I mentioned something about giving the children beer, even baby Buttercup, and Buttercup was sitting on my lap and she suddenly piped up and said "me no likey giving baby Buttercup be-eer."  I repeated this for the judge, and Buttercup repeated it too, and everyone smiled.  (Maybe not the father; he was sitting behind me and I was not trying to meet his eyes at that point anyways!)  But then the judge moved on to asking the teacher about Hibiscus's progress, and I never got around to talking about Hibiscus's difficulties and the improvements she has made.

The teacher got to talk about Hibiscus making progress and what was important about her being successful at his school, and was asked whether she could manage in a village school that the relatives could pay for, or in a school in America.  He talked a lot about the importance of love in education, and that their philosophy is education with love, and how much Hibiscus needs love and encouragement in order to thrive.  I think we all understand that most Ugandan schools don't have a lot of love getting thrown around, but he said that he had heard that our American school was quite loving.

Emerson had been inspired by Hibiscus's little written testimony, and wanted to write up a statement of his own.  The judge smiled at the notebook page, and called him up to stand next to her and read it to him.  It created a much calmer and warmer atmosphere to have the children speaking to her while they were next to her at her desk, instead of speaking from the tables in the big room.  Emerson stood up there by himself and read her his whole paper out loud, and then answered a couple of questions, looking very adorable in a British-school-child-like.  He was clearly nervous but made it through everything with his usual charm and aplomb.

Then Hibiscus was supposed to come up and talk about her testimony.  She was shy and embarrassed, and needed me to come with her to "help her with the words."  She didn't manage to say much at all, but she buried her head in my tummy a lot, and whispered that I was her mommy and she wanted to go America, which I think got her central point across!

Buttercup said to me that she didn't want to go up, and the judge didn't expect her to.  But in the middle of something else, while chairs were being moved around or someone else was talking, she remembered her little speech, and suddenly waved her hands around pointing as she said "dis one my mama, dis one my daddy, dis one my brother."  I don't think anyone besides me noticed, though!

The birth father and auntie were called upon to describe the family meeting, which they did in Luganda.  I think there was a letter from the LC1 chairman, who moderated, but the judge wanted it written up in a more official format from the lawyers.


By the end of the afternoon, it seemed like things had gone smoothly and the judge was pretty much intending to write us the guardianship orders.  Which is really really good and sets my heart at ease, although it will be even more at ease when I see them in real life signed and stamped in triplicate!

However, she mentioned that there are a great many cases to go through right now -- unsurprisingly, since court has basically not been moving for six months or so -- and that maybe she would be able to have them written up by December 19th.  It is still November right now.  Not only is that date an awfully long and lonely time away, it obviously scuttles any chances we would have of getting home by the holidays.  No one seems to care where we spend Christmas, but the judge did listen to our concerns about our visas running out.  Mark has a powerful friend through business networks, who has managed to get Emerson and I several extensions on our passports, for a full seven months which is longer than what we could normally get.  But the final one runs out at the end of December, and then we will have to leave the country in order to get new Ugandan visas.

That means me, on a bus to Kenya with three confused and crazy kids.

The judge asked who I had to help out with the children.  I think many well-to-do Ugandans keep housekeepers or nannies, but we don't.  It's just me, alone.  My husband leaves tomorrow and I'm going to be a-looooone again!!!  I think I managed to not start wailing in the middle of Family Court!

The judge said she would try to write out her report sooner, but she needs to have a few more papers and be able to look over things thoroughly.  And we all thanked her and left.



So tonight, I feel fairly confident that we can talk about Buttercup and Hibiscus's future life in America -- which luckily they never quite figured out was in doubt for a while.  We can hope and pray for the guardianship papers to come out quickly.  After we have those, we can apply to the Ugandan passport office to get passports for the girls... if they're not closed for the holidays already.  After we have passports, we can apply for American visas... if by that point THEY are not closed for the holidays!  So maybe, possibly, barely, we will make it home to be a family of five in 2013.

Or maybe not.  But one of these days, I think we will be.