Attached

It’s fair to say that in the last few days, Zola has become clearly attached to me as her mom.  That might be the only thing that’s happened in the last few days, though.  It’s been pretty quiet.

There was a little activity on Friday, I suppose.  In the morning, we said goodbye to Joe and Lindsey and their son J as they headed back to Kentucky.  It was nice to not only see a family leaving, but also someone who was with our lawyer to know how the departure would work.  Jacky pretty much arranges everything – a driver to take you and your bags to the airline office in the morning, then to the airport in the evening (flights through Brussels leave at 9:25PM), a protocol to walk you through all of the checkpoints at their airport and escort you into the “VIP lounge” (read: seats, air conditioning, and the ability to purchase water).  Some families have had to arrange all of these things by themselves, so it’s nice to know it’s taken care of.  We still have to pay for all of it, but knowing they’re people Jacky trust is good.  Jacky happened to mention while here with the Barths that she thought my exit letter would come by Saturday so I could travel home on Sunday.  I didn’t get too excited – nothing here is for sure until it’s actually happening – but I did get my hopes up a little that I was closer to home than I thought.

After the Barths left, Sabin came to St. Anne’s to take me out to more foster homes.  These were homes that were “too far out” to go to last Sunday.  As per usual, we left almost two hours after we were supposed to.  Jacky came to the first foster home before getting dropped off at the court building in one of the communes, I assume to work on another family’s case.  It didn’t seem like we traveled very far geographically, but between traffic, huge potholes and deep puddles, and sometimes unsurpassable roads, it took a long time to get everywhere.  And it was hot.  And smelled (exhaust fumes + burn piles = ugh!).  Zola was a trooper once again – for the most part.  When Sabin and I were waiting for the driver to take us out, I decided to use the toilet downstairs before we left, so I asked Sabin to hold Zola.  I went, did my business, and as I was leaving the bathroom heard a baby screaming.  Turns out it was mine.  Sabin was already walking down the hall towards me when I got down to the lobby.  I guess when I left the room, Zola lost it.  That’s the first time (but not the last time!) it’d happened without some other explanation for her getting upset. 

The areas of the Kinshasa we drove to on this outing were a bit more impoverished and less urban than what I’d seen before.  They were still densely populated, but there was less infrastructure – no true stores by Western standards, a lot of shanties and lean-tos with people living in them, lots of kids out playing soccer, hauling water, and girls singings and playing games together.  I know it may sound strange to say, but in even in what most people see as vast differences between home and here, I see something still familiar.  It is more similar to me than dissimilar.  We’re not out in the bush here (which I’ve also witnessed among the Maasai in Tanzania).  It seems like everyone here is selling something.  Even walking down alleys where the car couldn’t drive, I would see chalkboards on the gates to people’s lot with prices on them for water and Coke.  Truth be told, it seems like there’s way more people selling things here than buying, but I guess people are hustling however they can to get by.  And even in the more impoverished areas, there are very “middle class” homes by Congolese standards.  One foster home was along this very alley – we had to walk across a makeshift bridge to cross some water runoff, and passed some chickens and goat tied out between the car and the foster home.  When we opened the gate to go in, though, there was a tidy lot, and in the house was a bright, clean living room with a television, some basic electronics, and well kept furniture.  Along many of the places we walked were men sweeping the dirt entrances to their lot with simple brooms.  In a place where streets are strewn with trash and no building looks maintained by Western standards, people do care for their property and themselves.  All around I see women in beautiful clothes, men (even in the heat of the day) in long-sleeved button-up shirts, and children well groomed and their hair plaited and braided.  In so many ways, it is a country of contradictions (but then, aren’t we all).

Throughout the afternoon we drove between foster homes and orphanages to visit and take pictures of children who are being adopted by people in the same group as me.  I saw one to three week old babies who felt so tiny, terrified a 2-year-old when I tried to take his picture, and waited for one foster mom to change a little boy into better clothes for his photo.  At each place I was invited in and given the very best seat in the living room.  At the first home, one mom asked if Zola was my daughter.  Sabin told her yes, and she seemed pleased.  At another home with two infant babies, I set Zola down on the couch next to me to hold one of the girl.  Within 30 seconds, my girl was falling apart.  She did not like sharing mom’s lap with another baby.  Sabin was pretty amused. 

At the end of the day, we returned to St. Anne’s.  I think we ordered pizza for dinner, but I honestly don’t remember now.  The days and dinners have started to run together.  I did have my first Congo beer that night, though – Primus.  Not bad, and very cheap. 

Saturday was a hard day.  Because my attorney had told me she thought I would get my letter, I was torn between wanting to sort belongings and begin to pack and trying to stay grounded in the event it didn’t come.  I was getting sicker, with a cough and sinus congestion, and I hadn’t slept well Friday night.  Zola had become pretty fussy – constantly wanting held and played with and unwilling to be independent at all.  My patience had worn thin, and the internet had gone out Friday afternoon and not returned.  Zola and I spent the entire day in our room – napping on and off.  I emailed Wes to have him check on flights for the weekend, in case the letter came, only to learn that I couldn’t fly out before Monday at the earliest and I had to notify them by noon Saturday.  Needless to say, I was frustrated – with not feeling well or sleeping well, with Zola’s fussiness, with the travel agency and the airlines and the DGM office.  I gave myself the day to just be down and resolved to feel better on Sunday.

And so this morning, we did a bit better.  We skipped breakfast so we could sleep in, then spent most of the day in the room reading, playing, and napping.  In the morning Christine left with her mom and daughter, M, after being here for three weeks.  It was great to see another family go, knowing I am likely to be the next.  While we were saying goodbye, one of the women who works here at St. Anne’s came by and took Zola from me to talk with her.  She didn’t have her but for a minute before Zola let out her cry and the woman dutifully returned her to me.  It can take awhile for kids to attach to their parents, but evidently Zola and I have a solid start.  She may not know I’m “mom,” but she knows she wants to be with me. 

Mid-afternoon a friend came by with her daughter, T.  Heidi has adopted other children and so was a great source of solace in my frustration from Saturday.  T and Zola are hilarious together, smiling and laughing at each other and trying to grab one another’s hands to chew on them.  The girls eventually needed naps, so we split.  In the afternoon, I got to Skype with my parents and brother.  Adult contact, especially from home, whether in email or Skype, really makes my day, so this was a treat.  My brother got to see Zola finally, and my parents got to see her again and will hopefully meet her in person later this week.  After, I went to the supermarket down the street with another couple and their son, A.  We had dinner in the restaurant upstairs and Zola did reasonably well.  I had an omelet with mushroom and onion, fresh orange juice, and a banana “milkshake” (banana, milk, and it was cold!).  It tasted good, and since I haven’t been hungry to eat much recently, probably gave me a little more energy.  We did a little shopping – a few snacks, including the M&Ms I had this evening, some extra diapers and wipes since I’m running out, and Qtips to remove the smelly gunk from Zola’s ears.  We met back up with Heidi afterwards and visited until Zola got fussy for bed.  I gave her a wash before bedtime as she’d started to smell, removed said gunk from her ears (which was part of the smelly problem), and packed her off to sleep.  My only disappointment of the day was not getting to Skype with We sand the kids.  He worked until midnight last night, so I’m not sure if he just didn’t think to sign on (he doesn’t really use Skype normally), and my emails went unreturned.  Hopefully my exit letter will come soon, though, and I can see him in person.

My scheduled flight is set to leave Wednesday night.  If I get my exit letter tomorrow, we may move it up, but if not, I’ll hope the letter comes Tuesday or first thing Wednesday morning so that I can travel home.  Tuesday marks two weeks since I left the states, and I would really like to be on my way home by then or shortly thereafter.  Zola and I have done fairly well, but I am beginning to long for a comfortable piece of furniture to sit (and sleep!) on, a nice fresh salad, water safely drunk from the tap, and maybe some ice cream – to say nothing of my husband and two children.  But, these things are unpredictable, and we shall deal with whatever happens.  One way or another, we’ll get home eventually.  Everyone does.  And at the end, my family will all be together again.