Passports!

While I was in Kenya, I got a call from Miss B, saying that the lawyer's office called her and told her that we could pick up the passports on Monday morning.  Where to pick them up, and why they called Miss B, remained mysteries.  (It turned out because they had tried calling me but the call wouldn't go through, but for some reason Miss B's phone reached mine in Kenya without issue.)

So yesterday we got home and were all grumpy, and today is Monday and this is what happened.  I asked the driver to come at 8 for the "first thing Monday morning," but we did not actually get our bodies in the car and going out the gate until 9:30.  I tried calling the lawyer, but no one answered, so I decided we would go to the passport office and not the lawyer's office, since I thought the lawyer's office was closed but apparently the passport office was having a brief spurt of activity.  We got there, had to park down the street, got all the kids out of the car, went over to the gate, where the policeman passive-aggressively insulted me for not having the correct documents.  We left the line and tried calling the lawyer again, and eventually we got ahold of the person in the office who helps us through the passport logistics, and had a crummy-cell-phone conversation, in which I understood that she told me to bring my passport, the guardianship order, and the girls' birth certificates.  I had the first and the last, but not the middle.

As we drove away, I called the IOM office, where we need to make a medical appointment, and they send the results to the Embassy.  This is the appointment they would not let me make without the passports, and the last piece of paper before the Embassy itself.  I told the children to be quiet while I was on the phone, which lasted for about ten seconds before Hibiscus started throwing herself around the car and giggling.  The driver told her to stop, and started batting at her because she was being dangerously obnoxious.  She subsided for a moment, until I got to the part in making the appointment about giving the children's names.  I used their Ugandan names, which are their only official names, and Hibiscus started correcting me and then yelling at me because she absolutely hates her Ugandan name and never even wants to hear it, let alone have it refer to her.  Then I said that Buttercup was two years old, again because that is what her official papers say, and Hibiscus totally lost it.  That is the way phone conversations go around here.  But I got an appointment for that afternoon... "just for the paperwork, you do not have to carry the children with you," the woman helpfully advised.  Wouldn't I just love to leave them somewhere, but it is school vacation and no where else for them to go!

We had to drive all the way Ggaba Road to Konge to pick up the missing bit of paperwork.  Meanwhile, we stopped at a copy shop to copy something for the medical appointment.  Then home, grill cheese sandwiches for lunch, and try and get all the children back in the car.  Actually, they love to play in the car; the problem is to get them to potty and put their shoes on first.

Then back downtown.  The fee for the medical appointments is $100 US dollars, which is slightly complicated.  I didn't have that much cash (it's quite a lot in Uganda!) so we had to stop at an ATM.  All FOUR of them in Kabalagala were not working, which might possibly set a record.  So downtown at a big bank, where I had to wait in line.  Then a little farther down the street, to a Forex bureau, to change the money into dollars.  Then back to the passport office for our 2:00 appointment.

It turns out that we weren't supposed to bring those documents, we were supposed to bring COPIES of all those documents, so the office could keep them.  This had not occurred to me, as I thought they had copies of just about everything under the sun including Webster's dictionary, but apparently that was the office on the other side of the compound, and the passport-handing-out side wanted copies of everything for their own selves.  Also copies of my husband's passport, which I had at home but not with me.  So the lawyer's-office lady went back and forth into the crowded room for a while, and I waiting with the children on the benches and tried to keep them from driving everyone crazy.  Emerson read "The Little Engine That Could" to Hibiscus, and Buttercup wanted to read too but I wouldn't let her out of the wrap.  She was so whiney that it was no surprise when she suddenly fell fast asleep.

Eventually we went into a very crowded room (an actual indoor one).  I wrote out all my information in a big book while a burly official glared and Hibiscus's passport.  Then I turned around to another big book, where I wrote my local information and signed.  Then they gave me the passport.  The entire procedure was repeated for Buttercup's passport, except the non-asleep children had time to get curious by that point, and wanted me to hold them up, and go through gates, and other non-helpful things.  But then I held both passports in my very own hands!  And to make a good thing even better, I managed to put Buttercup in her carseat and she fell right back asleep, so she had a proper nap.

Then we needed to go to the IOM appointment.  That took driving around for a while, and eventually we found the building.  I had to hand over my passport to enter, and got a special visitors' card around my neck, which really impressed the children.  (The older ones; Buttercup slept in the car with the driver.  There are benefits to having your own driver!!)  The compound was fairly open and quiet, and maybe this helped my kids, because they were much calmer than they had been all day in crowded and noisy places.  We eventually got to the right office, where the receptionist very slowly and calmly made copies of all my documents.  Luckily, they seemed to be all there and correct!  There was one of those water jug fountains in the corner, which kept the kids happy and occupied, although of course eventually Hibiscus had to spill her whole cup of water on the floor.  We got an appointment for the actual medical exam at 8 tomorrow morning, which will mean that we have to leave the house early, but hopefully then they will have the entire day to work on whatever complicated week-long process it takes to send the reports over to the Embassy!

Now that we have the passports, we are done with the Ugandan side of things, and the passports and the IOM reports are the last things that we need in order to submit an application for a US visa.  Then they will give us a preliminary appointment (on Monday or Wednesday morning) in order to review our paperwork, and if it correct, they will give us an appointment for a hearing.  This might be as soon as the same day, or if the slots are already filled, it could be up to a three week wait.  The hearing needs to be attended by at least one adoptive parent, the children in question, and their birth parents and possibly other relatives.  They assess whether or not the child is clearly an orphan by the legal definition.  If the child is, she gets her "travel packet" two business days later.  If she is not "clearly approvable," the case gets sent to Nairobi for investigation.  That is what we DON'T want!

So, after many hours of errands, we had some fun.  We were in a nice area of town, so we found a nice restaurant that had good food and space to play.  The children immediately dove into a game that involved the brass bowls filled with water and rose petals.  I don't know what they were supposed to be for, but luckily we were the only people there that early, and Ugandans are amused by children's normal antics.  So they played in the bowls on the floor, and then the bowls started wandering around, and then all kinds of beautiful Indian decorations made it into the play, and when our food came the children grabbed trays and wanted to carry it in.  And the chefs or the waiter or someone gave them each a little bowl to put on their tray which they carried all the way to the table: Emerson and Hibiscus got a little side dish of raita, and Buttercup got a few carrots and cucumber.  She was so focused on carrying her tray and walking, and she did a wonderful job, until Hibiscus had finished her serving and came back yelling and screaming about what a great job Buttercup was doing, and then she tried to hug her, and then she was jumping up and down in her face, and I had to rush in and save the carrots and cucumbers from their highly confused handler.  I think that is a perfect summation of Hibiscus right there: that she is so enthusiastic, but has such poor judgement, that she ruins the joy of success for someone else right before it can be attained.  Buttercup was obviously so very proud of herself for carrying the tray the long distance from the kitchen, and her sister confused her into spilling it ten feet from the goal.

After dinner the kids ran around a great deal more.  They were motorcycles, and the waiter apparently was the traffic cop who kept catching them and threatening to take them to the police.  They got very sweaty and happy, which is a good ending to a long day.