Departure

At some point in the middle of the night, a huge thunder strike hit that sounded like a bomb blast.  I remember waking up briefly, and then nodding back off.  My over-active subconscious quickly transformed the thunder strike into a bomb blast and built a dream around it.  In the dream, rebels seized control of the Ugandan government, and my family and others were trying to find a way out of the country through neighboring Rwanda.  The daily Islamic calls to prayer at 5:30 a.m. were integrated into the dream as rebel force warnings against leaving the country.  It was a relief to finally regain sufficient consciousness to recapture a hold on reality.  I hope God wasn’t trying to tell me something through that dream . . .

A few hours later, I met with Justice K at my hotel for a farewell breakfast.  During the course of the conversation, my resolve to drive while in Uganda next year solidified.  The court-supplied driver will take me to and from work, but the car will remain with me and I will drive in the evenings and on the weekends.

After breakfast, Tango picked me up for a day of meetings.  This was the first time I called Tango back since he was a no-show three days ago.  I really like Tango and know that he, his wife, and two year-old son really need the income, so I decided to give him a second chance.  After he picked me up, I gently questioned him about why he didn’t show up last time.  He was in jail.  On his way home the prior evening, a Boda Boda driver ran one of the few stoplights in Uganda and hit Tango’s front right corner.  The Boda driver suffered some scrapes and bruises, the car suffered a broken headlight, and Tango suffered the indignity of being arrested and taken to jail pending the outcome of the accident investigation.  At noon the following day, the police declared him to be innocent of any wrongdoing and gave him his car and phone back.  When I asked him why they had arrested him, he simply replied: “This is Uganda, the police do what they want and you can do nothing about it.”  I, of course, felt like an idiot for using other drivers for three days as a punishment for him not showing up.

As we were heading to town, I called John Niemeyer to find out how getting 9 year-old Hero through the airport security went, and found out that it had not gone according to plan.  After Cedars Sinai had agreed to perform the surgery to reconstruct what the witch doctor had damaged, a visa for Hero and his mother was secured from the US Embassy.  Hero’s visa says “Minor Traveling with Mother” or words to that effect.  Later, it was determined that his mother was unable to accompany him, but the visa still has the restriction written on it.  Bob had been assured by the US Embassy that this was merely descriptive, and not required so he would be fine as long as he had the paperwork granting him legal guardianship from the Family Court.  Wrong.

The airline refused to allow them to fly without his mother accompanying them.  But Bob was not to be denied and was able to track down a US Embassy official who convinced the airline to reverse its decision, saying that Embassy official would personally guarantee that they would have no liability for allowing them to fly.  Whew.

Tango brought me to the Garden City mall where I picked up a book for the American couple trying to finalize their adoption (A & S).  The book contains The Children Act, the law governing foster parenting, legal guardianship, and adoption in Uganda.  (I had purchased this book for myself on a previous trip to Uganda).  From there, I met A & S for lunch and we talked about their appeal, the statutory and case law governing the issues in their appeal, and got to know each other a bit more.  Their Ugandan attorney and I are in contact and I hope to be able to assist them in the briefing before the appellate court.  They were in remarkably good spirits for a couple who had planned to be in Uganda for less than a month, but have now been here for about eight months.  This peace comes, I am sure, from an abiding belief that God has knit together their family that now includes both the boy over whom they have already been granted legal guardianship, and the girl they are also seeking to adopt.  As we departed, I told them that I hoped never to see them again in Uganda.  Under a best-case scenario, they could be gone by Christmas.  Under a worse-case scenario, they would have be here another two and a half years.

While we were eating, the skies opened up again in ways that I will never get used to.  Accordingly, the trip to the Naguru Remand Home was more like wading than driving.  The good thing is there is never a chance of hydroplaning in Uganda – the texture of the road is way, way too uneven for that.  I spent about forty minutes talking to the Assistant Warden Moses at Naguru about the status and makeup of the children in this prison.  There are 18 girls and 155 boys.  Only about 10, however, are charged with capital offenses, so there does not seem to be a significant backlog at the High Court right now.  There are several, however, who have been held there awaiting trial in excess of the statutory limit.  I hope to be able to remedy that when I return.

After a quick stop at the craft market to buy souvenirs, we headed out for the airport.  I wanted to get there plenty early, and arrived about three hours before my flight.  I could tell the pace of the week was finally catching up with me when I was completely perplexed by the lack of urinals in the men’s restroom in the airport lounge.  I stood there about ten seconds trying to figure this out, and then saw distinctly women’s shoes under the door of the stall.  Oops.  I got a few nasty looks as I exited the clearly marked “Ladies” room.

After a quick Skype call with Joline and the kids, I caught up on some e-mail and college football scores.  I learned that Bob and Hero made it safely to London.  After they landed in London, Hero asked Bob if they could just walk the rest of the way back to America.

I slept most of the nine-hour flight to Amsterdam, which means that I am guaranteed to have my sleeping patterns messed up when I get home on Sunday around noon.  I am sitting on the floor outside of the KLM lounge in Amsterdam.  I have now gotten it down to a science — wander into the check-in area at the lounge, present them with my Delta Sky Miles Card, have them politely reject me for entrance because I am not important enough, leave having memorized the wireless code they have posted, then sit on the floor outside the lounge and connect to the internet.  Is that wrong?

It will be good to be back in the States, but I am excited to return and introduce my family to this wonderful country.  I hope to be able to report tomorrow about Hero’s very cool two-day stopover on the way back to Los Angeles tomorrow.