Sortie

Tonight is my last night in Congo.  My bags are packed except for the things we’ll need tomorrow.  I have a list next to the computer with a reminder of the items still to go in my carry-on – my computer, phone, Zola’s bottle, my toothbrush.  On the desk, I’ve set out on my doxycycline pill to take tomorrow morning, the rest already in my carry-on, as I have to take it 30 more days in case of any latent malaria.  I have our travel clothes laid out, which seems strange since our flight doesn’t leave until 9:25PM.  But we have to meet Jacky and our protocol, Simon, at 9:00AM tomorrow morning to go to the airlines office to check our bags.  That way we won’t have to shuffle them along at the airport tomorrow afternoon in the heat.  Once our bags are gone, it’s just me, Zola, her carrier, and a hefty backpack with all we’ll need to get us through the 24+ hour journey home.  There’s a change of socks and underwear for me.  My glasses and more contacts.  Some pajamas for her (the plane is cold) along with a blanket and two more cold weather changes of clothes.  I’ve got as much formula as I could pack in, some burp cloths, a few toys, a book for me, should I find myself with free time on the plane…  And a thick, still sealed manila envelope of immigration documents to give to the fine folks at Newark who will let my baby girl in the country.  The rest is tossed in a green bin to share with families who are still here and to put in the common room for others who might find themselves in need.  I grabbed a bag of nuts, some tuna, and a converter there myself – oh, and a mini-Crock Pot I will use tomorrow to heat some water for Zola’s bath.  Last night’s attempt with just the shower water did not go well (screaming baby).  I have money in three envelopes – one for my hotel bill, one for the exit tax, protocol, and “VIP lounge,” and one for a tip for the lady who’s done our housekeeping and taken a shine to Zola. 

The last two days have been very slow but are coming to a productive end.  On Monday, after breakfast with friends, I basically spent all day in my room playing with Zola, napping, and reading.  I had hopes that my exit letter would come, but I didn’t hear anything from Jacky all day.  In the afternoon, we wandered downstairs to the bar (more a social gathering area that also sells water and beer than a traditional bar; way more babies) and sat with other families and their kids.  Right around 5:00PM, Jacky appeared with a helper in tow (and none of her hair – she’s got a super chic crop going now) and asked if I could get a flight for Tuesday night.  I said I could try, and she said my exit letter would be ready.  She then started to think about getting everything in order for my departure – the driver, the protocol, the documents – and I assured her I was fine to depart on Wednesday as planned.  No need to mess with the travel agent.  No need to pay a change fee.  Easy peasy.  So Wednesday it was.   She said she would be by on Tuesday with all the documents.  I emailed Wes and my family and started to tell Zola about traveling home.  She ate two bottles and fell asleep, then reawoke and got the dreaded shower bath (just putting her in there made her start to scream!), and then finally wrestled herself to sleep.  Can I say that, while these two weeks in constant contact has probably been good for our bonding, it’s going to be very nice to be able to put her down in a crib and give her some room instead of having to watch her moan and groan and squirrel her way around the bed?  I had a Snickers to celebrate, then read until bedtime while watching for response emails from my family. 

Today was more of the same, with a bit of purging and packing figured in.  We had a nice breakfast with a new family who arrived last night.  Today they met their nine-month-old son, L, and are settling in with him.  I took some clothes and children’s medication and bibs and things to Keela to use in their orphanage and foster home – stuff I can easily replace at home or won’t use (read: Zola is too big for the clothes I brought here!).  Zola took a good mid-morning nap, and I read a bunch and found a satin crib sheet online to help address the serious bald patch she has on the back of her head.  The weather today was as cool as it’s been since I got here.  I took a shower mid-afternoon and then put on a thin, long-sleeved shirt and the jeans I wore here on the plane and I wasn’t hot at all.  It was really pleasant.  I sat outside for a bit until the vendors down the street made it necessary for me to come inside, lest I spend the entire night saying “No, merci,” in response to their entreaties. 

At 5:00PM, I still had not heard from Jacky, and we had big dinner plans.  Keela and Dan, Heidi, me and all the kids had a driver available, so we decided to have dinner at a place called Nice Cream that our friend Christine recommended.  The place is really nice, owned by a French or Belgian woman.  They serve everything from waffles and crepes and coffee to burgers and sandwiches and salads.  I got a ciabatta with tomato, mozzarella, basil, and some pesto on it with a little side salad.  It tasted amazing.  And what would dinner at a placed called Nice Cream be without dessert?  Keela and I both ordered the Brownie Explosion.  Um, yum.  Way too much for one person, but after two weeks of tuna and nuts, I went for it.  Whatever weight I lost while here is certainly back!  Just before dessert, the guesthouse called to let me know that Jacky was there.  We’d left our number, just in case she showed up.  I told her where I was, and she sweetly drove over to deliver all my documents.  I now have my exit letter and all the documents necessary to leave the country.  Many are the original adoption documents I’ve received scans of over the last few months, which we’ll use back in the US for re-adoption. 

Once back in the room, I packed and Zola squirmed herself to sleep (no wonder she’s missing so much hair on the back of her head!).  One part of me is ecstatic to be leaving, one part is in a bit of disbelief, and one part really hopes I get to come back sometime.  For another adoption, yes.  But also just to be here.  Maybe so I can see the place a bit more and not just be the White lady with the Black baby who has to stay in the guesthouse all day, lest she and her young child be attacked by angry mobs.  Perhaps at some point I’ll come back and teach for a month at the American School.  Or maybe in the next ten years, Congo will undergo a dramatic change, and I can bring my whole family back as tourists.  There are some great wildlife sites near here that were too far out to attempt with a child.  I know for sure that I want Zola to be able to come back.  She will grow up more or less an American.  She’s only six months old, and by the time she’s a teenager, she may or may not have any real interest in her Congolese heritage.  But I want to make sure I give her repeated opportunities to learn about and feel good about it.  I can say that, after trips through at least a dozen countries other than the US, there’s something about this part of the world that is simply welcoming.  Warm, in both the literal and figurative sense.  Colorful.  I want her, and ideally all my children, to know that the whole world is not just like the US – that it is at the same time wildly different and strangely similar – and to be able to truly appreciate a culture that is not the one they know best, but one they understand. 

For now, I will revel in the knowledge that this time tomorrow night, Zola and I will be snuggled on a plane, getting ready for takeoff.  There is a sadness in taking her away from this place where she was born and was loved by a woman and family she will likely never see again.  But there is also great joy in knowing that she is heading to a family who will love her just as much, in a different way, knowing she is a permanent part of us.  Zola is coming home.

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.

One week

It’s Valentine’s Day in the Congo (except not, because it’s not really celebrated here), and I have now been here a week with my little love.  It’s been a long week.  You could tell me we’ve been here for three weeks and I’d almost believe you.  And yet, it hasn’t been too hard.  I think that will come, as more time passes, but so far, we’re all doing okay. 

Zola’s fussiness Tuesday night turned into a really bad night of sleep.  She would cry, moan, scream, didn’t want her pacifier or only wanted the bottle (but wasn’t eating).  I began to lose patience as the night wore on and wished for the first time since getting here for my own house and a rocking chair.  And, not for the first time, my husband.  The next night she slept better after a rough start (and ibuprofen, just in case), but thanks to her constant passing of gas, my post-nasal drip and sore throat, and the lack of exercise that’s part of being here, I slept poorly.  We’re both tired.  She cat-napped the last two days, mostly in the carrier while we’re out, with no big long nap like we’d had in the previous days.  She finally went down for a big nap this afternoon, just in time for us to go out for a group Valentine’s Day meal at a nearby restaurant.  This morning I went looking for drugs for me, just to make me feel a little less uncomfortable during the day, and realized that the acetaminophen I brought is PM.  I’ll probably take some before bed and then hope she doesn’t have another bad night.

The last two days have mostly been filled without outings.  Wednesday morning I went with a group of other adoptive parents to several of the large markets around here.  The outing is organized by an American woman who lives in Kinshasa with her family.  Her husband works for a mission organization that provides flights to people doing work in underdeveloped areas of the world like the DRC.  His particular job is mechanics on the planes, but others are here as pilots, medics, and so forth.  They’ve been here since April.  They’ll leave at the end of the year, then raise funds to come back for another three.  She’s started doing weekly runs to the markets for the families who are here doing adoptions.  She arranges the van and driver, who also helps at the markets, and goes to several different guesthouses and hotels where families commonly stay.  It’s a safe, low-stress way to go to some of the places that can be a little scary for Americans, especially those with young, Congolese children in tow. On our trip was two families here at St. Anne’s, plus me, and two families from another Catholic guesthouse across town.  Those families have been in Congo for one to two months because of various issues with their cases. 

We set out at 10:00AM in a blessedly air-conditioned van and started at a fixed-price shop where the goods are made by local people with disabilities.  There was lots of cute stuff, but I picked out two adorable dolls for Emme and Zola.  They’re nice and big, and I think Emme will like carrying hers in her carrier.  From there we went to the more common outdoor market.  I think we were literally the only customers there.  One mom who was there with two older girls and has been in country for a while stayed in the van.  She’d already done enough shopping, and she said the guys at the market liked to use the children as a way to get parents to buy stuff.  In addition to Lisa and the driver, there was an art dealer who walks around and helps families at the market.  He ended up hanging with me as I bought a variety of small things, mostly jewelry but also a toy for Oliver and a rattle for Zola.  I went to look at his art at the end and ended up buying a painting that I really liked.  It was pulled around a wooden canvas frame, so he pulled it off and I’ll have to redo it at home.  It’s not fancy, but I think it would be cute to hang in a hall or in the girls’ room – pretty colors that capture the feeling of this place.  Our last stop was the fabric market, which is just around the corner from St. Anne’s.  The fabrics are extensive and very beautiful.  They only sell them in six-yard bolts at around $3.35/yard.  I ended up buying four and definitely wish I’d had time to look a lot more.  It’s not a place where you can really haggle, but I want to get a little more variety than what I did yesterday (mostly blues and greens that will look pretty on both girls, and hopefully a skirt or something for me in there).

Lisa offered to take everyone out to lunch before heading back home, but Heidi, one of the other moms from St. Anne’s, and I decided to come back in so our babies could eat and sleep and cool off.  I fed Zola, looked through what I’d purchased, and relaxed a little before Heidi came up to see if I wanted to walk to Hassan’s for coffee with her and Keela.  We went over by ourselves – always a sight, since we’re three blonde women with very young Black babies in front carrier – and enjoyed waffles, crepes, and coffee.  On the way there, we saw a church service in session.  We realized that it was a special service in celebration of the visiting Catholic Cardinal, Francis Arinze, from Nigeria, who is one of the men reportedly being considered for Pope now that the current one has announced he is leaving the papacy.  While we were enjoying our sweets, a man at the table next to us came to chat and practice his English.  He, like evidently many of the people here, was confused as to why we were carrying around Black babies.  We explained we were adopting and why, and he seemed pleased with our answers.  He then proceeded to – if we understood correctly – try to pick up Heidi and ask her out for Saturday night!  She politely demurred but I think was unnerved by the experienced. 

After our snack I went looking for a few things.  It’s strange the little things I’ve looked for at the supermarket but can’t find – nail clippers, floss, a baby bottle that holds more than four ounces.  I can give you a long list of places to find carved elephants, malachite necklaces, stringed instruments made out of turtle shell, and even a small preserved crocodile, but I can’t find floss.  I did find toothpaste, which was good.  In the evening, we ordered in dinner.  It turned into a bit of a fiasco, as the driver brought way more food than we ordered but also insisted we pay for it.  When Keela realized the order, she was bold enough to call and argue for a refund (a word that I don’t think exists in Lingala!).  They did send the driver back, who demanded the extra food and then provided 1/3 of the cost back.  He was pretty unimpressed, and I doubt we’ll order from there again for a while. 

Today was more of the same.  I was up early because of the poor night’s sleep.  Joe and Lindsey wanted to go back to the market because they hadn’t had enough time the day before, so they got a driver through one of the other mom’s here, Christine.  We started at a more traditional art gallery, which had lots of beautiful paintings.  Had I not already purchased one the day before, I certainly would have gotten something.  Instead I picked up several handmade postcard type multimedia images (ink and fabric) that I think I can frame under a custom mat to have for Zola.  They were $1.50 each, so it was an easy way to take home something else for the wall without paying a lot or ending up with something large to carry home.  From there we went back to the market, where our art dealer friend – and probably everyone else there – recognized us and came over to walk around with us.  He was actually really helpful.  Joe is a very impressive bargainer and helped me get a few more things way cheaper, and when the guys wouldn’t come down in price, our handler would help us.  I have some pretty things to take home, for sure.  As we were leaving the market, Joe pointed out a small chimpanzee in an area where they sell birds and birdcages.  He was so cute, sitting there with his little banana or whatever he was eating.  It’s time like those I so wish I could take pictures!

We decided to do the fabric market later in the day in favor of time for lunch and naps for the kids.  Joe had arranged for one of his seller buddies on the street to get me a small RDC (that’s the DRC in French) soccer outfit for Oliver, and I went downstairs at 1:00PM to meet him.  He’s been very nice to the Barths, helping them find items they wanted to buy, including today a Bible in Lingala.  At 3:30, I begrudgingly woke Zola up from a nap to join our whole group out at a restaurant for a Valentine’s Day celebration that one of the mom’s arranged.  It was fun walking over together, but shortly after we got there, we found out that our walk has raised to the notice of some locals and perhaps police offers.  Several of the moms were really nervous about walking home, but Joe, who seems totally calm about that kind of thing, assured them it would be okay.  Zola was fussy the whole time we were there, which made it hard to enjoy being out (perhaps in combination with the lack of sleep), and I was ready to go pretty soon after finishing our meal.  The food was definitely good, if pricey (as it is here), and it was nice to get out again, though.  Just as dinner was ending and we paid, Christine’s daughter climbed up in her grandmother’s arms and then vomited all over her grandmother and the main dining room of the restaurant.  In the course of the next ten minutes, she got sick twice more.  At that point, I was cranky with Zola, nervous about all the unwanted attention we were drawing, and just ready to go.  I felt so bad for Christine – these things ALWAYS happen at the worst possible time (for me, when the kids are in their car seats and I’m driving).  We walked quickly and directly back to St. Anne’s without incident.  I gave Zola another bottle, after which time she took a little nap and then played a bunch.  She went down after yet another bottle around 7:30PM, and so far, she’s been pretty still here next to me on the bed.  Here’s hoping we both have a better night sleep so we can enjoy tomorrow.

The other family with my attorney just got their exit letter today.  They came after their son’s visa was already issued but one day after me.  The exit process can’t start until you have your child’s visa, so I’m only 2-3 days in.  But, if my letter comes as quickly as theirs does, I’ll be able to leave on my scheduled flight next Wednesday.  It seems like a long time out, but I know we’ll be fine.  Joe and Lindsey want to go back to the fabric market again tomorrow before they leave, so I’ll join them if I can.  If not, I might go back out with Lisa next week, just to fill our departure day with some last minute fun.  For now, I’m just thankful that I’ve gotten to see so much of city in relative safety, enjoy the company of people I certainly would otherwise not have met, and have had pretty minimal challenges with Zola.  All cause for celebration – minus the vomit.

Visa!!!

Zola's visa was supposed to be ready at 3:00PM.  So at 3PM, we were at the consular.  The only ones in the more than 50 seats.  By 3:30, Zola had fussed and then fallen asleep in the carrier.  There were a few other people there.  By 4:00, Zola had woken up and was making faces at the people next to and behind me. By 4:10, a man came out with a pile of manila envelopes and began explaining, in French, the visa process to the Congolese citizens who were there to receive them.  By 4:30, the man had finally finished talking and handed out the visas.  Three people did not receive theirs, plus us.  The man disappeared, and I took Zola to the children's play space.  She was hungry, I did not have a bottle, and we were both losing patience.  By 4:40, the man had come back with more manilla envelopes, but ours was still not there.  He began giving his speech again to people who had arrived late, so I waited.  By 4:50, I had begun a speech in my head -- something along the lines of me being an American citizen in an American embassy, left waiting with no information at all for almost two hours, and having been promised our visa today -- to say nothing of the fact I had a fussy baby there the whole time.  At 4:55, I was saved from any need to give it.  JJ came out, our visa in hand, and handed it right to me (probably easy as the one White lady in the room with a baby).  He asked if I had my Boudreaux letter to stamp, and I did.  He got someone to sign and stamp it for me, and I was on my way.  One of the Congolese men who had just received his visa to the US asked me for my address and telephone number in the states.  I played dumb and asked where he was traveling.  He spoke no English and I no French, and the smile on his friend's face suggested he knew full well he was being ridiculous.

Walking back to St. Anne's, I was on the verge of tears (of joy).  Maybe, just maybe, I'll actually get to bring this baby girl home.

Our attorney came by about an hour later and took the necessary paperwork to submit our case to the DGM.  I need several signatures from their office to get our travel letter, which is permission from the Congolese government for the child to leave the country.  It can take three days -- or three weeks.  There's another family here who is about 5-6 days ahead of me in the process and also with Jacky, so I'll see when they get theirs and should be able to estimate when we'll get ours.  There's still a very good chance we could travel on our original flights, but if we do have to push them, it shouldn't be for more than a few days.

Tonight, we celebrate.  (Or in Zola's case, fuss and refuse to go to sleep despite being exhausted.)  Tomorrow, we shop :)

Too much chicken

Yesterday was a relaxed day with lots of time with Kinshasa friends.  Zola was up a lot Sunday night.  I think she woke up four times and took a four-ounce bottle each time.  I was excited to get to breakfast, though, and tell Heidi and Keela about our day out at the foster homes and the orphanage.  After breakfast, Zola and I went back up to the room and found one of the housekeepers.  There’s been a mattress sitting outside my door for several days, and since there’s two beds but only one mattress in my room, I figured it was for us.  Leone helped me move the mattress into the room and put a sheet on it.  She’s clearly taken a liking to Zola as she now stops in to say hello to her and always greets us in the hallway.  I moved some things around and pushed the two beds together so that I can reach her at night now.  I think she’s sleeping better with room to stretch out on a nice, big, flat surface.  Shortly thereafter, Zola took another bottle and a long nap.  I laid down for part of the time but also reorganized things that had been moved for the mattress and did some things on the computer.  Zola is very curious about the things around her, so it’s hard to sit at the computer when she’s awake.  The other day, she managed to swipe the trackpad and switch screens on me.  My sister called again while Zola was napping, but the sound still wasn’t working.  We stayed on for a minute so she could see Zola sleeping and I could marvel at all the hair on my nephew.

In the afternoon, we went to the common room with our GoPod (a portable playstation that folds up, similar to the lawn chairs people take to outdoor events) to have a playdate with Heidi and her daughter, T, who is the same age as Zola.  T tried it out and liked it.  Her legs reach a little better than Zola, but they’re both pretty small for the thing.  Keela came through a short while later and asked us if we wanted to go to Hassan’s.  So we packed up the babies and walked together with Jules, the in-country guy for All Blessings, to the supermarket.  Keela and Heidi both needed medication, so we stopped at the pharmacy.  Then we sat in the coffee shop on the upper level.  Keela had a coffee, I had an icy lemon drink, and Jules had a waffle and beer(!).  We sat and chatted while those around us stared at the three White ladies and their Black babies.  Adoption is not very well known around here, and so people are often confused when they see White adoptive mothers with their Congolese children.  Moms are advised not to let their children fuss in public, lest someone think the child is being stolen away.  Fortunately Jules was with us, so he explained to anyone who had questions what was going on.  I laughed when I first saw him because he was wearing a Kansas City Chiefs tshirt. I couldn’t decide if it was a shirt that happened its way over to the DRC (though it looked too new to be that) but then realized that Keela, who is from Missouri, brough it for him as a gift. 

For dinner, we ordered chicken from a local restaurant that has its menu available online.  The place is called CFC and bears a striking resemblance to KFC – from the menu to the food to the box the chicken comes in.  Heidi, Keela, Christine, her mom, and I, plus all the kids, had dinner in Heidi’s room – complete with boxed Target wine – while the babies played (and briefly, mine slept) on the bed.  Christine and her mom both asked to hold Zola, and she obliged them both with big smiles.  It was nice having girl time, chatting about next steps in our process and gossiping about other folks staying at St. Anne’s.  I had some chicken and fries and had also gotten some really good hummus with large, flat pitas.  I definitely ate too much, though, as I felt pretty uncomfortable this morning.  I’ve gotten used to very small meals while here – a can of tuna and a granola bar, or some Ramen with raisins and applesauce – so the American-sized meal really upset my stomach.

Before too long, Zola was tired.  She went to bed, after another bottle, around 8:30PM – pretty late for her.  I cleaned up a bit and then did laundry for the first time.  That consisted of Tide in a bucket, washing clothes in order of increasingly nastiness.  I only did a few of Zola’s things as she’s still got plenty of clean clothes. I’m curious to see how my underwear and socks turn out once dry, but my pants are made from a fabric that dries really easily and won’t get stiff.  It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t fun, and I hope to only have to do it once more at most.  I did decide to keep one outfit – with jeans and a long shirt – completely clean to wear on the way home.  It’s a long trip, and I don’t want to feel any more gross than I have to. 

I went to bed by 9:30 and slept a little better.  Zola was only up twice and ate pretty well.  She’s very vocal when I don’t get a bottle to her immediately (one of the down sides of formula rather than being able to nurse) but is otherwise pretty happy.  We were up after 7:00AM.  I sat at breakfast with Heidi and had tea and a small piece of watermelon, but I felt pretty horrible afterwards.  Zola and I came up to the room, and she took a nap a bit later along with me.  Someone came to the door around 11:00AM to tell me my attorney was here.  Jacky brought a form I need to have stamped at the consular when I get Zola’s visa.  She was able to collect two of the three Moneygrams I sent with her fees, so Wes will have to get back the first one sent in October.  I had enough cash to pay her what we still owed her, so in the end, it should all be fine.

Zola is just waking from a nap, and we’ll head to the consular in a little over an hour, hoping her visa is ready.  Jacky is meeting us back here at 4:00PM to get Zola’s visa and mine to take them to the DGM office for our exit letter.  If that all happens, we’ll then hope that the letter is ready by next Wednesday morning so that we can fly home as planned.  I was supposed to go shopping this morning with another family, but they never came up, so I assume they either had a bad night of sleep or are having a rough day with their little guy.  There’s a group shopping outing to the major markets tomorrow, though, so I’ll try to go on that.  I’d like to get some fabric for my mom to make some things for Zola, and maybe a few other gifts for her and her siblings.  I was thinking it would be nice to have something small from the Congo for her each year, either on her birthday or the day her adoption was finalized, until she’s old enough to come back in person. 

Meeting her