They pulled out a rickety wooden bench for us to sit.
“There’s a baby in there,” Alex whispered under her breath. Alex has a baby-radar that would blow you away.
Sure enough, when my eyes focused on the cloths bunched at the base of a curtained doorway, I saw a foot. A tiny foot.
“Can we see the baby?”
We were making house visits with Pastor Alex and Robert when we happened upon this home of an older couple. They attended a church not far from their place.
Joel went to get the baby girl, and the story poured forth of how she came into their lives. Annet spoke from her seat on the ground, her crutches propped up beside the house. The pastors translated.
Annet, Joel and Samali.
A woman had asked them to hold the baby, Samali, while she did something. The woman never came back.
That was it. As simple as that. An abandoned baby of 4 months was thrust upon them. She was now 6-months-old.
I looked down at Samali in my arms. She was precious, with big brown, observant eyes. But 6 months? At best she looked like 2 months. Her breathing was raspy. They said she had malaria.
Baby Samali
Annet and Joel have two raised children of their own. They love Samali – but they can’t provide for her, they said. Sometimes, they just don’t have enough to give her food. They gave her a middle name Kirabo – which means gift in Ugandan. She is a gift to them, but a gift they can’t carry much longer.
“Are there any baby homes or orphanages here?”
Pastor Robert mentioned a home in Kampala (about 30 miles away = 1 ½ to 2 hours with traffic) and we promised the couple we’d look into it for them.
It was time to investigate and find a home for a gift.
Annet, me, Amanda, Joel, Samali, Alex and Cassie.
Investigation Begins
Three days later, we were sitting in the administrator’s office of Sanyu Babies Home, wanting confirmation that the website was legit and this truly was a safe place for Samali. After some of the stories we learned from Katherine in Cambodia, we weren’t taking any chances.
A guest house was attached to the home (which is its largest source of income) and also a place where volunteers come. We toured the facilities – a baby dreamland. Staff and volunteers were everywhere holding and playing with babies. Cribs with nametags and mosquito nets lined brightly painted walls. Memory verses were throughout the home. There were clean kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms. And lines and lines of tiny clothes out to dry.
Yes. Yes, this was the place for Samali.
Now, how do we get her there?
There is a process, the director explained. She outlined the procedure and gave us a phone number for the social worker in the area where Annet and Joel live.
How long will it take? 6 hours.
We went to see Annet and Joel and explained the conditions of the home and the process. They were eager to start.
We arranged to meet with them and go to the LC1 – the councilman for their district – first thing the next morning. He had to write a letter notifying the police of an abandoned baby. From the police we needed to document the case and also get a letter for a social worker. Then the social worker that Sanyu Babies Home had recommended would take over with more paperwork and could then bring Samali to the home.
6 hours, right? Ha.
Everything is a Process
We were ready on Tuesday only to put plans in park. The LC1 wouldn’t be home until 2pm. TIA (We said ‘This Is Africa’, now for the 80 billionth time).
We gathered promptly at 2. He listened to Annet explain Samali’s story, then took a good 15 minutes to handwrite a letter, another 10 to find his stamps and give the piece of paper its formal declarations of approval.
As we sat, waiting for his letter, I felt a huge peace rest on me – God’s confirmation that this is where He wanted His little one to go next. The process would go through.
Next stop: Namalundu’s Police Station. Which to my surprise was a round tent. A 20-minute visit, had them signing the paper and referring us to the larger police station 20 minutes away where they could handle our case.
But as soon as we walked into the Domestic Violence Office, I knew we were in for a fight.
