Joel and Samali.
…But as soon as we walked into the Domestic Violence Office, I knew we were in for a fight. …
A woman with pursed lips sat back in her chair behind a wooden desk, her arms folded. Though Pastor had insisted on my presence, I knew my white skin was doing nothing to speed up this process. Pastor explained what we needed, but the officer said we didn’t need a letter.
“No, we talked with the director at Sanyu Babies Home and she said we need a letter from you,” I said. “We have Annet’s phone number, the social worker we need to meet after we have the paperwork from you.”
Dina, with the movement of her lips, instructed us to return to the front desk to log the case, then to come back to her office. All of us, Pastor Alex holding Samali, myself, and Annet on her crutches go to the front office (who had sent us to Dina in the first place). We sit as the officer writes out on a ledger a short paragraph on an abandoned baby.
A man interrupts her twice to look up something on the ledger.
I’m getting antsy. The clock is ticking and we wanted Samali in the home that night. It was now close to 4pm. I remembered the peace I felt in the LC1’s home and breathed out. I’m trusting You, God.
The ledger is updated. We can now go back to the Domestic Violence Office. Dina greets us, with pouting lips. We present the letter. She says she needs a copy of it and sends Pastor Alex out to get a copy in an office a block away.
Samali starts to wail. And I mean ball. A woman comes in – apparently the woman who is to draft our next-step letter – and insists Samali needs something to drink. My eyes might have gotten a bit big at this point. Yes, we need to get her to a place where we can feed her and get her well. If you’ll kindly give us a letter we’ll be on our way. But she leaves the room – and is gone for a good 15 to 20 minutes.
“Excuse me, do I need to do something to get the letter?” I ask Dina who is just sitting at the desk; Samali is still crying. I hold her for a bit, and she is sopping wet. There are no diapers. There are no clean clothes. No diaper bag. We just need to get her to the home. Maybe I lost something in translation and I can be typing a letter or getting a copy.
“We’re getting it.”
Really? In walks the woman with a bottle of milk for Samali. But Samali will have none of it. Finally, the woman sits down to handwrite our next-step letter. Another woman picks up Samali and carries her outside with the bottle.
A handwritten letter means we have to take it somewhere to get typed. That is our next step. Pastor and I run up a block to a copy store. Make copies of the original letter – our goose-chase souvenir for the day – and have them type the police letter and make two copies (including one of the Police letterhead since they gave us the original letterhead).
We rush back. They sign the papers. I keep the original and a copy. We get on a matato (mini-bus) to head back to the church where Amanda and Alex have been phoning the social worker all day to have her meet us there. Samali falling asleep in my arms on the drive was the highlight of my day.
We’re home free, right? Wrong.
Still Processing
Thirty minutes later we have a very cross social worker pointing a finger in our face, demanding money for cell phone minutes and bus fare for her to get home. At that point, I wish I were so white that I was transparent and she couldn’t have seen me. We obliged to get her air time and provide for her ride home (she was out of minutes and had stopped early on her ride home to meet us but didn’t have funds to get home since they collected her entire fare before she got out to see us). She later interrogated the pastor when we stepped away if he really knew us because white people like us have come before and taken babies illegally.
We encouraged the pastor to go to her office with Joel and Annet in the morning, without us. The penalty of our presence would be skin tax – for something. Pastor Alex looked doubtful, but we assured him he’d be fine. Part of our ministry this month has been empowering the church members – and we strongly believed Pastor Alex needed to know the process for future babies the church could assist.
Alex, Amanda and I stayed at home, anxiously awaiting a phone call so we could help in the transport of Samali to the home. When there wasn’t a phone call by noon, we called Pastor. Annet (the social worker) had just arrived at her office. An hour later, they were in a lawyer’s office. An hour after that the phone didn’t go through. Enough was enough. We called the director of the home and asked for her to speak to Annet (the social worker). An hour later, Pastor said he was on his way to the church and then to the baby home.
The Rodeo was responsible for preaching that night, and we did so trusting that baby Samali was on her way to a better home – though hopefully a short-term home before she is adopted by a family.
Worth it All
Five days later, a week after our first visit, we returned to Sanyu Babies Home to visit Samali. It is remarkable what only a few days can do – she’d already grown. She was a bit bigger, felt heavier, was clean and even breathing easier. No coughing. The difference a few days can make. (Sorry, pictures inside the home were not allowed.)
Seeing Samali at the home, each of us taking turns holding her, was worth all the phone calls and traffic jams and hours of waiting. I know this was only a fraction of what most adoptive families have gone through in the waiting and paperwork game. But it is worth it.
Traffic in Kampala on the way back from Sanyu.
We just came from this long line on the right
suffocated in fumes, around a round-about,
and are now heading back into the line on the left.
If you’re a family waiting to adopt – it is going to be worth it.
If you know a family who is in the process of adopting – give them an encouraging word and pray with them – that can be some of your part in caring for orphans. Don’t give up. It is going to be worth it.
If you are considering adoption – know that it is a battle. And if God is leading you into adoption (and you are sure of it) – know that it is going to be worth it.
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.“
James 1:27 NIV
Samali was a gift to Annet and Joel – to us – and, we believe, will be a gift to a future family. And one day, we hope, she’ll bring the True Gift to light for many others.
Alex and Samali.
