The girls have been home for 3 weeks now, which is still a week shy of our time out in Uganda, but it is going by fast.
The girls showed quickly that they were not going to respond well to home-schooling, so we opted to enroll them in a public charter school to get them separated from each other and encourage them to start speaking more English. Scot and I realized a pattern that they would refuse to speak up to others in English, but would chatter away with one another in Lugandan all day. We figured that separating them during the day and getting them together with English-speaking kids would help foster and speed up the learning curve for them. So far it has yielded positive results.
We are settling into our routines now. The girls have school Monday-Friday, we go swimming on Friday nights sometimes, or have a family movie night, Saturdays we play, and Sundays are for church and community group.
Between the extra loads of laundry, more house cleaning than I anticipated, and continuing to bond and learn about our new children, Scot and I find ourselves with full days.
With that being said, I believe that it is time to bid our blog a fond farewell.
We thank those of you that have read it and responded, prayed for our family, and blessed us with support.
We do sincerely hope that this blog, and our message, has touched your heart. We feel very strongly about our faith in the Lord, and believe that adoption is just one of many ways to serve Him and display His love and faithfulness to us as His adopted ones. Our final request to those who may be willing, is that you would pray that God touches our daughters' hearts. We hope that they would one day realize that what we have done is NOTHING compared to what He already accomplished on the cross. This week being Easter is a perfect time to remember how truly needy we are, and how He has satisfied that need with the sacrifice of his son Jesus.
God bless you all, and again, thank you!
Monday, March 25, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Trip photos
Here are some pics...
A little Silly Putty went a long way to entertain the kids at the passport office.
Jack Fruit!!! Very sticky, hence the gloves. The fruit are the round parts you see with large seeds in the middle. I can best describe it as a slightly more rubbery version of a lychee.
Say hello to my little friend. This big guy roamed the property around where we were staying. There was always a cattle dog and a herdsman near by.
That's Lake Victoria in the background. We hicked about a mile up from our guesthouse to get this view.
Aisha learning her alphabet and how to read.
Flavia got creative with the dominos.
Hair finally getting long enough to play with.
Kampala madness.
Flavia taking pics of herself.
The orphanage. I was laughed at and lovingly reprimanded by the house mother for my shorts because they were above the knee. Later that day Aisha asked if she could wear shorts when she got to America too.
The orphanage house mother, Mama Teddy. Let me tell you, this woman is a SAINT. She genuinely loves these children. Her heart is so big, and her patience equally so. We could tell that our girls really care about her.
Gecko. Thankfully, not in my bed.
Instead, in my husband's hand. Said they feel like sandpaper.
"It's the metric system. They don't know what a quarter pounder is..."
This was a school out on recess while we were waiting for our interview at the embassy. They were fascinated by our whiteness.
Flavia singing in church. Aisha hating that she was brought onto the stage as well.
Aisha's father's house.
Aisha's father. He is a very tall man, which explained why our 8 year old is wearing adult size 5 shoes.
Flavia and her aunt. She lived with her for a while before coming to the orphanage.
I couldn't help myself. This is Flavia's youngest half-brother. He too will be available for adoption soon.
Rashid and Aisha's father approaching Flavia's old house. You can just make out Flavia's father in the doorway.
Wait a second... is that...?
Why yes- it IS two men and a goat on a motorcycle! The goat was alive, and he was not happy.
The outside of the orphanage. They are adding a second tier up top for more kids and more comfortable accomodations for the house mothers.
Here are some of the kids still waiting for forever families. They are incredibly affectionate. When you show up, three or four will try to scramble into your arms, on your lap, cling to your legs, and show you how smart they are by counting to ten or singing you a song. They loved that we played games with them. These are just the youngest. There were about 8 older kids (ages 6-14) at school when we took this picture.
This is Danny. I wanted to smuggle him home, but he has a family waiting for him in Tenessee. He was absolutely precious, and smiled and cuddled at you all day.
Rashid and Joy. The caretakers of the orphanage, and our mentors and guides while we were away.
More little angels...
First plane ride!
Poor thing. We had to be up at 2 am to get on the plane.
If you feel like you want to help these precious children out, the director of the orphanage is a man in Panama City Beach Florida. His name is Robert "Bob" Hayes. He has a website:
www.ugandamission.net/hayes or you can email him at Bob@ugandamission.net
He is the US director of the Africa Christian Training Institute and runs the financial books for the orphanage. We had the pleasure of meeting and breaking bread with him for a few days. He's a lovely southern gentleman with a HUGE heart for Africa. He goes there 4 times a year, and he is a former Presbyterian preacher by trade until the Lord called him to work with the orphanage.
I'll have a few more pictures and videos of the girls now that we are home coming soon.
www.ugandamission.net/hayes or you can email him at Bob@ugandamission.net
He is the US director of the Africa Christian Training Institute and runs the financial books for the orphanage. We had the pleasure of meeting and breaking bread with him for a few days. He's a lovely southern gentleman with a HUGE heart for Africa. He goes there 4 times a year, and he is a former Presbyterian preacher by trade until the Lord called him to work with the orphanage.
I'll have a few more pictures and videos of the girls now that we are home coming soon.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Homecoming
I have pondered for 2 days about what I want to say in this posting, and the right words will not come.
The love that my family has been shown upon our return has been overwhelming.
Friends and family have reached out in support, giving us help, food, and gifts and clothes for the girls.
No dictionary contains the vocabulary that I require to show my gratitude to you all.
The girls repeatedly say thank you every time they walk into their room or look in their closet.
They thank God for you because you have so richly blessed them.
We hope to be able to visit as many of you as possible to say thank you, but if we are not able to see you all, please know that we are so moved and we appreciate what you have generously provided for our family.
I thought it would be fun to share some of the more light-hearted and funny moments that we have had. Anyone with children knows that they do and say the funniest things, and I think with our girls being from a different country and culture, we get a little bonus:
1) No-pants dance. When we got Flavia's passport, but not Aisha's due to a spelling error, Aisha became very sad. We had to explain repeatedly that she will have a passport, and she will be coming home. After talking her through it all in the car ride home, she understood and then became excited. When we got home, we started our usual routine of brushing teeth and putting on PJs. As I was helping Flavia brush her hair in the bathroom, Scot comes around the corner trying not to laugh aloud and says, "Honey quick, you gotta see this." I peek around the corner and there is Aisha (with her back to us), pants around her ankles doing a little cha-cha shuffle, singing about her passport. When she finally turned around and saw all 3 of us staring at her, she about died of embarrassment.
2) McDonalds. Yes, okay, I admit it. I took the kids to McDonalds. C'mon, it's like an American childhood rite of passage. We started at the park with the Shiver's, but it got cold and windy, and the kids (and moms) were getting hungry. The girls walked in, saw the PlayPlace, and lit up. They loved it. Flavia really took to little Max and liked helping him climb up. She couldn't believe that playing there, and at the park previously, was free of charge because you have to pay to play at a park where they lived. Then they got their first happy meal. As if the fried, super-processed, hydrogenated goodness that is the Happy Meal wasn't awesome enough, it comes in a colorful box, and wait, there's a toy?! They sang a song about being an American and happy to live in America on the car ride home. When Scot got home from running some errands, they showed him their toy and told him they liked hamburgers.
3) Who doesn't like bacon? We went out to eat the last night we were in Uganda. We had been telling the girls about pizza, and the restaurant we went to had it, so they wanted to try it. I asked what they wanted on it, and Aisha said, "Meat." Flavia said, "PORK!!" I was surprised that Aisha wanted meat, as she usually eats very little, and not surprised that Flavia yelled pork, because she could easily win the 72oz steak challenge in Texas. One of the pizzas had Canadian bacon, so there you go, two birds with one stone...I thought. The pizza came, and Aisha stared at it. She is reluctant to try new foods anyway, so I encouraged her to try a bite. She turned the pizza around to eat the crust first, and I showed her how we start at the point, and the crust is like a handle to hold while we eat. She took a bite, and then looked like she would gag. Rashid laughed and spoke to her in Lugandan and she responded, and then he informed us that since she came from a Muslim family, she was taught not to eat pork because it is dirty. Hearing this, Flavia then turned and spoke rapidly to Aisha. Rashid laughed again, and explained that Flavia said, "Well, you have given your life to Christ now, so eat the pork!"
Here are a few more photos of the trip, with more to come now that I found the cord to the camera.
The love that my family has been shown upon our return has been overwhelming.
Friends and family have reached out in support, giving us help, food, and gifts and clothes for the girls.
No dictionary contains the vocabulary that I require to show my gratitude to you all.
The girls repeatedly say thank you every time they walk into their room or look in their closet.
They thank God for you because you have so richly blessed them.
We hope to be able to visit as many of you as possible to say thank you, but if we are not able to see you all, please know that we are so moved and we appreciate what you have generously provided for our family.
I thought it would be fun to share some of the more light-hearted and funny moments that we have had. Anyone with children knows that they do and say the funniest things, and I think with our girls being from a different country and culture, we get a little bonus:
1) No-pants dance. When we got Flavia's passport, but not Aisha's due to a spelling error, Aisha became very sad. We had to explain repeatedly that she will have a passport, and she will be coming home. After talking her through it all in the car ride home, she understood and then became excited. When we got home, we started our usual routine of brushing teeth and putting on PJs. As I was helping Flavia brush her hair in the bathroom, Scot comes around the corner trying not to laugh aloud and says, "Honey quick, you gotta see this." I peek around the corner and there is Aisha (with her back to us), pants around her ankles doing a little cha-cha shuffle, singing about her passport. When she finally turned around and saw all 3 of us staring at her, she about died of embarrassment.
2) McDonalds. Yes, okay, I admit it. I took the kids to McDonalds. C'mon, it's like an American childhood rite of passage. We started at the park with the Shiver's, but it got cold and windy, and the kids (and moms) were getting hungry. The girls walked in, saw the PlayPlace, and lit up. They loved it. Flavia really took to little Max and liked helping him climb up. She couldn't believe that playing there, and at the park previously, was free of charge because you have to pay to play at a park where they lived. Then they got their first happy meal. As if the fried, super-processed, hydrogenated goodness that is the Happy Meal wasn't awesome enough, it comes in a colorful box, and wait, there's a toy?! They sang a song about being an American and happy to live in America on the car ride home. When Scot got home from running some errands, they showed him their toy and told him they liked hamburgers.
3) Who doesn't like bacon? We went out to eat the last night we were in Uganda. We had been telling the girls about pizza, and the restaurant we went to had it, so they wanted to try it. I asked what they wanted on it, and Aisha said, "Meat." Flavia said, "PORK!!" I was surprised that Aisha wanted meat, as she usually eats very little, and not surprised that Flavia yelled pork, because she could easily win the 72oz steak challenge in Texas. One of the pizzas had Canadian bacon, so there you go, two birds with one stone...I thought. The pizza came, and Aisha stared at it. She is reluctant to try new foods anyway, so I encouraged her to try a bite. She turned the pizza around to eat the crust first, and I showed her how we start at the point, and the crust is like a handle to hold while we eat. She took a bite, and then looked like she would gag. Rashid laughed and spoke to her in Lugandan and she responded, and then he informed us that since she came from a Muslim family, she was taught not to eat pork because it is dirty. Hearing this, Flavia then turned and spoke rapidly to Aisha. Rashid laughed again, and explained that Flavia said, "Well, you have given your life to Christ now, so eat the pork!"
Here are a few more photos of the trip, with more to come now that I found the cord to the camera.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Tonight, we celebrate...
We have the visas in hand.
Lamentations 3: 22-23
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."
The journey no doubt continues once we get home.
We are currently only guardians, and will finalize the adoption and citizenship process once we are home.
In the meantime, the girls keep smiling. Scot overheard Aisha talking to her doll and saying, "May I please see your passport?"
Our time here has been fruitful. We visited the girls' families for the last time yesterday, and saw their humble beginings. I know that the girls cannot comprehend the differences between America and Uganda yet, and I am sure that the more time they spend in the USA, the less they will remember their younger years spent in plaster and thatch shanties with outdoor dirt floor kitchens. Old blankets hung where doors or windows would be. They did not have mosquito nets in their rooms, and slept only on an old mattress lying on the floor. Whatever we may think or feel about these accomodations, the girls were proud to show us where they were born, and clearly had very fond memories forged there.
Many hours where traveled over bumpy dirt roads. Many samosas have been eaten. Many pictures taken.
While both good and bad memories have been made here, Scot and I are both very happy to be returning home.
The perspective we've gained can only be one achieved through personal experience.
No photos or words can convey what we have seen, heard, and felt since we have been here.
I have always considered myself a patriot, and I can still say with certainty that I love the USA.
We do plan on returning some day to renew the spirit that we have gained while we were here, and to have the opportunity to enjoy more of the country, and less of the government buildings.
I am going to take some time away, maybe about 5 days or so, to really focus on my family.
I will upload more photos later.
Thank you for your prayers, emails, and support.
Love,
The Wilgings
Lamentations 3: 22-23
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."
The journey no doubt continues once we get home.
We are currently only guardians, and will finalize the adoption and citizenship process once we are home.
In the meantime, the girls keep smiling. Scot overheard Aisha talking to her doll and saying, "May I please see your passport?"
Our time here has been fruitful. We visited the girls' families for the last time yesterday, and saw their humble beginings. I know that the girls cannot comprehend the differences between America and Uganda yet, and I am sure that the more time they spend in the USA, the less they will remember their younger years spent in plaster and thatch shanties with outdoor dirt floor kitchens. Old blankets hung where doors or windows would be. They did not have mosquito nets in their rooms, and slept only on an old mattress lying on the floor. Whatever we may think or feel about these accomodations, the girls were proud to show us where they were born, and clearly had very fond memories forged there.
Many hours where traveled over bumpy dirt roads. Many samosas have been eaten. Many pictures taken.
While both good and bad memories have been made here, Scot and I are both very happy to be returning home.
The perspective we've gained can only be one achieved through personal experience.
No photos or words can convey what we have seen, heard, and felt since we have been here.
I have always considered myself a patriot, and I can still say with certainty that I love the USA.
We do plan on returning some day to renew the spirit that we have gained while we were here, and to have the opportunity to enjoy more of the country, and less of the government buildings.
I am going to take some time away, maybe about 5 days or so, to really focus on my family.
I will upload more photos later.
Thank you for your prayers, emails, and support.
Love,
The Wilgings
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Coming Home!!
The calf is roped, feet tied, hands thrown in the air, call it, "TIME!!"
I am both optimistic and fearful even as I write this post.
Today, we pick up our visas.
Tomorrow, we board a plane.
Monday was our appointment with the embassy. As usual, we had a hiccup.
When we went on Friday to have our paperwork reviewed, it was pointed out to us that on one of the papers, Flavia's birth father's name was misspelled, but that, "We could fix it."
Now we had already used some white out on other papers, so we figured that would be the same for this error as well.
When we showed up to pay for the visas on Monday as we were told to, the woman asked if we got the new corrected document from the lawyer's office.
We looked blankly at her and said, "You never said to get a NEW paper, you said we could fix it."
She shook her head and said, "No, you need a new paper."
I ran downstairs to where our phone was kept in a locker, and proceeded to frantically call Rashid repeatedly every 5 minutes for almost a half hour. Luckily he was already going to meet with our lawyer about another family, so I needed to catch him before he left his office.
God was with us, and got us the new paper that very day before our interview.
The rest of the interview went smoothly and we were granted the visas, then told to pick them up Wednesday, which is standard.
We then went home to book a flight. Then had another hiccup.
I have been watching the flights diligently and noticed the prices going up, up, up. Most flights were averaging $1700-2000 per person, 36-43 hours total.
Imagine the thrill when I found 4 tickets for a 26 hour flight at $1300 per person.
Now imagine our panic when our bank card kept getting blocked.
Apparently our bank has a limit set on how much can be charged on the debit card, and we were going over it. We attempted to call the bank, and learned that the touch-tone system was not compatible with our borrowed over-seas phone.
::This is the part where I started to panic thinking I would never see U.S. soil again::
Luckily for us, a loving family member let us borrow their card, and all was right with the world.
So, pending no more hiccups, we should be boarding Turkish Airlines Thursday morning at 5:20 am local time, and arriving back to Albuquerque on Friday night.
Please pray for visas in hand, and safe travels. This has been enough excitement for one month already.
I am both optimistic and fearful even as I write this post.
Today, we pick up our visas.
Tomorrow, we board a plane.
Monday was our appointment with the embassy. As usual, we had a hiccup.
When we went on Friday to have our paperwork reviewed, it was pointed out to us that on one of the papers, Flavia's birth father's name was misspelled, but that, "We could fix it."
Now we had already used some white out on other papers, so we figured that would be the same for this error as well.
When we showed up to pay for the visas on Monday as we were told to, the woman asked if we got the new corrected document from the lawyer's office.
We looked blankly at her and said, "You never said to get a NEW paper, you said we could fix it."
She shook her head and said, "No, you need a new paper."
I ran downstairs to where our phone was kept in a locker, and proceeded to frantically call Rashid repeatedly every 5 minutes for almost a half hour. Luckily he was already going to meet with our lawyer about another family, so I needed to catch him before he left his office.
God was with us, and got us the new paper that very day before our interview.
The rest of the interview went smoothly and we were granted the visas, then told to pick them up Wednesday, which is standard.
We then went home to book a flight. Then had another hiccup.
I have been watching the flights diligently and noticed the prices going up, up, up. Most flights were averaging $1700-2000 per person, 36-43 hours total.
Imagine the thrill when I found 4 tickets for a 26 hour flight at $1300 per person.
Now imagine our panic when our bank card kept getting blocked.
Apparently our bank has a limit set on how much can be charged on the debit card, and we were going over it. We attempted to call the bank, and learned that the touch-tone system was not compatible with our borrowed over-seas phone.
::This is the part where I started to panic thinking I would never see U.S. soil again::
Luckily for us, a loving family member let us borrow their card, and all was right with the world.
So, pending no more hiccups, we should be boarding Turkish Airlines Thursday morning at 5:20 am local time, and arriving back to Albuquerque on Friday night.
Please pray for visas in hand, and safe travels. This has been enough excitement for one month already.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Boda Bodas
For those of you that don't know, I'll explain what "boda bodas" means in a minute.
Let us first set the stage for what was one of the most exhilarating and adrenalline-pumping days that I have had in a while. This will be a long post, so make sure you've got a little time for reading about our little adventure.
So we left off with needing to collect the girls' passports before we could make an appointment with the embassy.
Warning: the following story WILL have disgusting images and might scare the families of those involved. Don't worry, we're alive to tell the tale ;)
The passport office, well, it sucks.
Everywhere you go in Uganda, you pass through security checks. They check your purse, you get the metal detector wand thingie waved over you, and pass through rought iron gates with barbed wire and armed guards.
This place is no exception, as it is like a military compound.
The buildings are single-story metal and stucco.
They are placed like a maze to create paddocks, surrounding dirt floor courtyards with benches covered by a large canvas tent for shade- if you are lucky enough to find a seat under it.
Hundreds of people are scrambling to get passports, and some have waited up to six months for one.
It's hot, every one is tired, and social graces are thrown out the window.
Up untill now, we have been dealing with the passport office through phone calls and having Rashid talk with one of the employees. We were told to come this time because they would be ready.
The first visit to the passport office was a brief one as we were told they currently aren't available, they were taken to the controller's office because they couldn't find our reciept. Not to worry though, he would settle it, and we could return tomorrow. Okay, fine.
On our way out, Flavia needed to use the bathroom, so I found the public restroom there.
She came out of the stall with a look on her face that I had not seen before. She simply shook her head. I came in to see what was the matter, and saw that they were pit latrines. (A hole in the ground that you squat over).
Now people, God tells us to protect what we place before our eyes for a reason. Sometimes images get burned into your head that you just cannot get out.
There was crap, everywhere. I looked down to see that my child had attempted to squat over the pit, and as her shoes slid in the fecal matter, the cuff of her pants grazed the floor. She was still leaving poo-tracks as she walked out. Whilst trying not to vomit and panic, I made her walk over to a grassy area and wipe her shoes and asked if she could hold it instead. Thank the Lord we brought medical gloves with us! We went home without appetites that day.
We returned the next day as told, this time with extra toilet paper and hand sanitizer in my purse. I made the girls go to the bathroom before we even left, twice. By the time we got there, most of the seats under the shade were taken. Scot and I took turns sitting. We were told that the passports would be ready at 11 am. By 1:30, I was started to get a little upset and feared that my children would need to use the bathroom any minute now. (A really nice man showed us one hidden in the back that the employees use that was actually clean.)
I couldn't sit still any more, so I got up to stand- then lost my seat permanently. Another 3 hours, and a notable sun burn later, we collect the passports. Oops, Aisha's name is wrong.
He told us that he would reprint it. So we waited- for another hour and a half. By 6 pm we were the only people left, and our guy just disappeared. Rashid called him and we went to the controller's office. We were told that we couldn't get it tonight, and that we could come back tomorrow at 9 am and it would be ready.
We knew we were under a time crunch. The embassy is only open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until 11 am. Today is Friday. Experience taught us that the passport would not be ready at 9 am, and we knew that if we didn't get to the embassy today to verify paperwork and make an appointment, we would be set back another week.
9 am comes and goes. 9:30. 10:00. 10:30... 10:55- the corrected passport was placed in our hand.
Now I already told you that the embassy closed at 11. But God decided otherwise today.
Scot called the embassy and begged them to stay open saying that we just got th passport and we would get there as soon as possible. They said if we can get there in less than 15 minutes, they would wait.
"Challenge accepted!!"
Kampala has the worst street traffic I have ever seen. There are no stop lights, no street signs, no real traffic laws except to keep it movin', and yet somehow it works. Boda bodas are motorcycle taxis. Being smaller, and having no fear to weave through and around buses, cars, pedestrians and opposing traffic, even on sidewalks if need be, they can get you where you need to be faster than any other mode of transportation. We discussed the potential danger, and talked with the girls (who were ALL for it by the way) and agreed that we would do it. We told the boda drivers to be extra careful, drive slower than usual, and that we would pay them well if they delivered us safely.
Flavia rode with me and had the biggest grin on her face the entire time because this was her first ride on a motorcycle. With my hair flapping in the wind, and a death-grip on the driver, I kept my eyes closed and prayed, and next thing you knew, "We are here madam."
::A-thank-you-Jeeesus!::
Again we get through the obligatory security check and run to the embassy office. We were seen within 5 minutes, and the most wonderfully sweet and patient woman helped us to correct and organize our paperwork and gave us our interview appointment for Monday at 3 pm. (I hear they keep their appointments there.)
So, we're back on schedule.
NO MORE BODAS, and if all goes well, we may be booking a flight home next week.
Sorry if I scared you Mom, and Daddy, you know I always think of you when I'm on a bike.
Love ya'll...hope to see you soon!
Let us first set the stage for what was one of the most exhilarating and adrenalline-pumping days that I have had in a while. This will be a long post, so make sure you've got a little time for reading about our little adventure.
So we left off with needing to collect the girls' passports before we could make an appointment with the embassy.
Warning: the following story WILL have disgusting images and might scare the families of those involved. Don't worry, we're alive to tell the tale ;)
The passport office, well, it sucks.
Everywhere you go in Uganda, you pass through security checks. They check your purse, you get the metal detector wand thingie waved over you, and pass through rought iron gates with barbed wire and armed guards.
This place is no exception, as it is like a military compound.
The buildings are single-story metal and stucco.
They are placed like a maze to create paddocks, surrounding dirt floor courtyards with benches covered by a large canvas tent for shade- if you are lucky enough to find a seat under it.
Hundreds of people are scrambling to get passports, and some have waited up to six months for one.
It's hot, every one is tired, and social graces are thrown out the window.
Up untill now, we have been dealing with the passport office through phone calls and having Rashid talk with one of the employees. We were told to come this time because they would be ready.
The first visit to the passport office was a brief one as we were told they currently aren't available, they were taken to the controller's office because they couldn't find our reciept. Not to worry though, he would settle it, and we could return tomorrow. Okay, fine.
On our way out, Flavia needed to use the bathroom, so I found the public restroom there.
She came out of the stall with a look on her face that I had not seen before. She simply shook her head. I came in to see what was the matter, and saw that they were pit latrines. (A hole in the ground that you squat over).
Now people, God tells us to protect what we place before our eyes for a reason. Sometimes images get burned into your head that you just cannot get out.
There was crap, everywhere. I looked down to see that my child had attempted to squat over the pit, and as her shoes slid in the fecal matter, the cuff of her pants grazed the floor. She was still leaving poo-tracks as she walked out. Whilst trying not to vomit and panic, I made her walk over to a grassy area and wipe her shoes and asked if she could hold it instead. Thank the Lord we brought medical gloves with us! We went home without appetites that day.
We returned the next day as told, this time with extra toilet paper and hand sanitizer in my purse. I made the girls go to the bathroom before we even left, twice. By the time we got there, most of the seats under the shade were taken. Scot and I took turns sitting. We were told that the passports would be ready at 11 am. By 1:30, I was started to get a little upset and feared that my children would need to use the bathroom any minute now. (A really nice man showed us one hidden in the back that the employees use that was actually clean.)
I couldn't sit still any more, so I got up to stand- then lost my seat permanently. Another 3 hours, and a notable sun burn later, we collect the passports. Oops, Aisha's name is wrong.
He told us that he would reprint it. So we waited- for another hour and a half. By 6 pm we were the only people left, and our guy just disappeared. Rashid called him and we went to the controller's office. We were told that we couldn't get it tonight, and that we could come back tomorrow at 9 am and it would be ready.
We knew we were under a time crunch. The embassy is only open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until 11 am. Today is Friday. Experience taught us that the passport would not be ready at 9 am, and we knew that if we didn't get to the embassy today to verify paperwork and make an appointment, we would be set back another week.
9 am comes and goes. 9:30. 10:00. 10:30... 10:55- the corrected passport was placed in our hand.
Now I already told you that the embassy closed at 11. But God decided otherwise today.
Scot called the embassy and begged them to stay open saying that we just got th passport and we would get there as soon as possible. They said if we can get there in less than 15 minutes, they would wait.
"Challenge accepted!!"
Kampala has the worst street traffic I have ever seen. There are no stop lights, no street signs, no real traffic laws except to keep it movin', and yet somehow it works. Boda bodas are motorcycle taxis. Being smaller, and having no fear to weave through and around buses, cars, pedestrians and opposing traffic, even on sidewalks if need be, they can get you where you need to be faster than any other mode of transportation. We discussed the potential danger, and talked with the girls (who were ALL for it by the way) and agreed that we would do it. We told the boda drivers to be extra careful, drive slower than usual, and that we would pay them well if they delivered us safely.
Flavia rode with me and had the biggest grin on her face the entire time because this was her first ride on a motorcycle. With my hair flapping in the wind, and a death-grip on the driver, I kept my eyes closed and prayed, and next thing you knew, "We are here madam."
::A-thank-you-Jeeesus!::
Again we get through the obligatory security check and run to the embassy office. We were seen within 5 minutes, and the most wonderfully sweet and patient woman helped us to correct and organize our paperwork and gave us our interview appointment for Monday at 3 pm. (I hear they keep their appointments there.)
So, we're back on schedule.
NO MORE BODAS, and if all goes well, we may be booking a flight home next week.
Sorry if I scared you Mom, and Daddy, you know I always think of you when I'm on a bike.
Love ya'll...hope to see you soon!
Monday, February 18, 2013
Update day 18
::sigh::
So we didn't get the passports last week.
The judge forgot to sign and seal the papers needed, so we had to wait 2 days to get them.
By the time we did, the passport office was closed, and the man we were working with went on vacation.
It is Tuesday the 18th here as I write this, and we are going to go into town and see if we can't get them today.
Once we get the passports, we can make our appointment with the Embassy to get visas, and then we can bring the girls home.
Many have asked if we have met with the girls' fathers yet, and the answer is yes.
They were at the original court meeting.
Aisha was indifferent to her father. He is a much older gentleman, and she was much younger when she was sent to the orphanage, so I don't envision that they bonded too much.
Flavia was very happy to see her father. She gave him a hug, but then resumed her coloring.
It was awkward of course.
The gentlemen gave us phone numbers and email addresses to contact them.
We are struggling with this because Flavia's father has already asked another family who has his other children for money.
That happens a lot around here. Everyone has a story to tell you, everyone needs more money.
One guy walked up to the car window and angrily said to Scot, "You're a white man, and you have much money, so you need to give me some."
Another young-20's man approached us while we were on a walk and struck up a conversation with Scot about "What's America like?" and then he told us about his home country, and what he does for a living, but then got into how they don't pay him enough and he requested money for airtime for his phone.
Scot has become very proficient at politely telling everybody "No."
We worry that these men might make the girls feel guilty since they are in America, and then put us in the middle to ask the girls to tell us to send money, and then if we don't, we're bad people. We also don't want the girls feeling like they need to work to send their own money to these men. Flavia's father has a job, and was financially capable of taking care of her, it's just his second wife didn't want the kids, so they were all sent away.
I can see where Aisha's father may struggle more, but the stories we heard about him being nearly blind do not seem to be true.
Pray for us on that one please.
Gotta go, our ride is here.
Love you all!!
So we didn't get the passports last week.
The judge forgot to sign and seal the papers needed, so we had to wait 2 days to get them.
By the time we did, the passport office was closed, and the man we were working with went on vacation.
It is Tuesday the 18th here as I write this, and we are going to go into town and see if we can't get them today.
Once we get the passports, we can make our appointment with the Embassy to get visas, and then we can bring the girls home.
Many have asked if we have met with the girls' fathers yet, and the answer is yes.
They were at the original court meeting.
Aisha was indifferent to her father. He is a much older gentleman, and she was much younger when she was sent to the orphanage, so I don't envision that they bonded too much.
Flavia was very happy to see her father. She gave him a hug, but then resumed her coloring.
It was awkward of course.
The gentlemen gave us phone numbers and email addresses to contact them.
We are struggling with this because Flavia's father has already asked another family who has his other children for money.
That happens a lot around here. Everyone has a story to tell you, everyone needs more money.
One guy walked up to the car window and angrily said to Scot, "You're a white man, and you have much money, so you need to give me some."
Another young-20's man approached us while we were on a walk and struck up a conversation with Scot about "What's America like?" and then he told us about his home country, and what he does for a living, but then got into how they don't pay him enough and he requested money for airtime for his phone.
Scot has become very proficient at politely telling everybody "No."
We worry that these men might make the girls feel guilty since they are in America, and then put us in the middle to ask the girls to tell us to send money, and then if we don't, we're bad people. We also don't want the girls feeling like they need to work to send their own money to these men. Flavia's father has a job, and was financially capable of taking care of her, it's just his second wife didn't want the kids, so they were all sent away.
I can see where Aisha's father may struggle more, but the stories we heard about him being nearly blind do not seem to be true.
Pray for us on that one please.
Gotta go, our ride is here.
Love you all!!
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