Trip to Mubende

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The Gregston family and I left mid-afternoon on last Tuesday and drove about 3 hours to Mubende. After the first night, we fell into a routine of getting up early, doing a devotional, eating breakfast, working at a “clinic,” going back to the hotel and showering, eating dinner, and going to bed a few hours later. Thankfully, one of the nurses that came with us turned out to be a lab technician, so Jake, Jared, and I unearthed our inner pharmacist and no helpless Ugandans were subjected to a blood lab run by children (yet).

The first day, Jake and I helped out with registration. Big mistake. Not only could we not speak the language, we couldn’t even read the Acholi names that our translator wrote out for us to copy onto forms. Then we would take their weight, hand out a de-worming pill, and write down the patient number. Did I mention Jake and I can’t count? Several hours and many butchered names and misnumbered patients later, Jake and I swore to avoid registration at all costs.

On days three, four, and five, Jake, Jared, and I worked in the pharmacy. It’s a pretty fast paced job and we’ve had to learn multiple names in several varieties of short hand for each medicine prescribed. We also learned how to read short hand dosages and decide a dose based on weight and age. It was a job that was sometimes challenging and overwhelming, but one that I really enjoyed. I’m discovering that while my deficiency in simple math makes a lot of pharmacy work difficult, I’m becoming increasingly interested in medicine—a door I shut years ago and I’m now wondering if God has reopened.

On the second day, we faced a loss. A three year old girl came to the clinic very sick and was instructed to go home and eat and come back in a couple hours to be taken to the hospital to be given medicines that we didn’t have with us. David, our main driver, took her to the hospital and when he got there, there was not a doctor or nurse to be found. She died within the hour. In Jake’s words “we lost and we didn’t even know we were losing.” But as David told us, only God can see what could have happened. We can only see what did. And we saw the very next day a pastor sick with what had killed the little girl the day before—only this time we had the right medications for Dr. Jay and the nurses to save his life. Even so, it’s so hard to see how easily the little girl could have been saved if only given the right medications. It makes me think of how many people we’ll go by in life who might have so easily been saved from spiritual death but no one ever gave them the right opportunities. Our God is a just God, but I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize that someone only got half a chance at life to the full because they were lacking something I could have given them.

But before we found out what had happened to the little girl, I spent some time with the local children. The girls especially wanted to talk to me and ask me questions. They wanted me to tell them two names so I told them “Jessica Mae” which they changed to “Jesca Mary.” They told me things like how old they were and how many brothers and sisters they had. Then all the children sat me down on a bench and showed me their traditional dancing and sang songs that they had learned in school while they drummed on large drums that I think were made from goat skin. They sang about how Jesus loved them and it was amazing to hear the incredible purity and beauty in their voices.

 

The next day, our last day in Little Orange, I was talking to Jackson, who is 18 and speaks pretty good English. We had all been feeling a little off because of the little girl’s death and a little overwhelmed from the scores of patients and still having to turn some away. But then Jackson turned to me and said “Actually, we will not be forgetting you.” Fiona (one of the little girls from the day before) walked up to me then and handed me a slip of paper with her name and grade on it. She said something to Jackson and he translated for me, “She is saying she is loving you.” That really really got to me. I’m not sure why, but it was something about knowing we had made a difference to that one. I might have served hundreds of patients, but I made a difference to Jackson and Fiona. I think sometimes I can’t see the trees for the forest, and I’m guessing that’s how a lot of us are when it comes to doing God’s work. We get so caught up in throwing as many starfish in as we can that we forget to admire the beauty of each one.

Precious Preschoolers

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We spent today at the Africa Renewal Ministries Early Childhood Development Program, where young preschoolers are educated, cared for, and loved upon.  Today we focused on health check-ups for the one and two-year olds.  About half of them had runny noses, but they were otherwise healthy.  These precious children live in the Gaba community (just outside Kampala).  They were selected by Africa Renewal to attend this school because they are in great need.  We were impressed with the care they receive there, Monday through Friday, 7:30 AM to 4:00 PM.

Just take a look at these faces and you will see why it was hard to leave after spending the day with them.

Adorable two-year-olds who greeted us

Joshua making friends

Breakfast Time: Porridge, banana, & multi-vitamin

Playtime with Jessica

Say Ahhh! Dr. Jay examines the kids

Jennifer with little Sharifa (who has burns on most of her body)

Joline and friends

Naptime: After lunch and a bath, children are changed from uniforms into clothes to go home at end of day

 

 

Reunions

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This is going to be a big week for me in Uganda.  I have been purposefully keeping an internet lid on the biggest part of my substantive work; I hope I can lift that lid this week.  I am meeting with the judges in the Criminal Division of the High Court on Tuesday as they are considering the proposal that my colleague (and former student, Shane Michael) and I have pitched to them.  I hope to be able provide the full details by the end of the week.  I would be grateful for your prayers on this.  If the proposal is granted, it would mean a bit of a paradigm shift in the juvenile justice process here in Uganda, and much for the better.

Henry’s first week of school came to an end this week and things are continuing to go very well.  In fact, I drove out to see him for a few minutes today to deliver some additional clothes he learned he needs and some additional school supplies.  Not only was it a good week for Henry, but it was a good week for his school – the final S6 national exam results (the test Henry will take in two years – he is just starting S5) were released, and his school finished first in the entire country.  While this school has enjoyed the reputation for the being the strongest in Science, the first place overall finish was a huge boost.  We continue to be thankful that God opened this door for Henry.

And speaking of Henry, we got an unexpected bit of surprise news when we learned that my little brother’s wife’s father (Jerry’s father-in-law, Kelly’s dad) has requested that we purchase two piglets for Henry’s family and name them Bryan (for Kelly’s dad) and Brent (Bryan’s brother).  We notified both Henry and his sister, and they were thrilled. I am going to add some Mobile Money to my phone and send them the money to buy the pigs.  (If you don’t know what Mobile Money is, then read my previous post on the subject).

This past week also brought a couple of long-overdue reunions.  I had gotten to know Jesse Rudy, the Kampala director of IJM, Uganda, during several prior trips to Uganda, and we hadn’t yet reconnected.  This reunion happened at a really cool restaurant as we discussed a really cool opportunity with other really cool people.  I had met the Dean of Regent Law School a few times previously at Christian Legal Society gatherings, but we had never really had a chance to talk on a deeper level.  That changed on Thursday night.  Dean Brauch, his wife, and another Regent Law Professor came to Kampala to meet with another one of my friends, Brian Dennison, an American lawyer who works with Uganda Christian University.  The purpose of the trip was to explore the possibility of a Regent/UCU partnership the result of which would be that Regent students (and likely students from other schools) would come to Uganda beginning next summer to study and do internships.

We met at a restaurant that had some serious game.  Serious game.  I ordered the platter with Kob (antelope), Wildebeest (beat’s me), crocodile, and ostrich.  Unfortunately, there had been a run on crocodile and ostrich that evening, so they were substituted out for some other leftovers from a lion kill of some sort.  All of it was excellent.  The conversation and discussion about connecting American law students with opportunities to serve Uganda’s legal system was outstanding.  I will be praying that this partnership comes to pass.  I am confident that if it does, there will be an opportunity for Pepperdine students to join in the fun.

This next week will also bring another reunion with someone I have only met once, but who our family (and Twin Family) are eager to meet – Katie Davis.  More on this amazing young woman later in the week.

Finally, I have been growing increasingly comfortable driving here.  So much so, that yesterday I relaxed a bit too much.  As I was traveling down a one-way street, I turned right onto a two-way street.  I hugged the sad-excuse-for-a-curb and continued up the right side of the street.  Unfortunately, a matatu (local mini-van taxi) also preferred that side of the street from the other direction.  We both slammed on the brakes and disaster was narrowly averted.  On the bright side, I think I now know how to say “Great American Satan” in Luganda.  All in all, I consider this to be a net positive.

Mobile Money

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As is the case for all developing countries, Ugandan is a cash-driven society.  The lack of widespread use of credit cards creates numerous challenges for all sectors of society, including the judiciary.  In the United States, the court system can purchase supplies and pay all sorts of suppliers and vendors via government credit cards and/or a system of invoicing.  The same is not true in Uganda.

There are no government credit cards and virtually every purchase is a cash transaction, most of which don’t usually generate receipts.  Consequently, opportunities for corruption are widely available and too often utilized.  This, in turn, leads to the creation of systems that cause immense delay and incredible inefficiency.  For example, many of the courts in Uganda operate via “session” calendaring.  Criminal cases are not heard on a rolling basis, but rather in “sessions.”  This means that forty cases are set for a session that will occur over a two or three month time period.  A judge may have two or three sessions a year.  This is solely driven by the fact that the cash to pay for the session has to be requisitioned in advance.  The cash is largely to pay for witnesses to come to court (who otherwise won’t or can’t afford to come), to pay for fuel for the transportation for the buses to bring the defendants from prison to court, and to pay for the transportation of files from the police station or from one court to another.

Interestingly, this incredibly inefficient and antiquated system of having to pay for everything by cash has combined with the ubiquity of cell phones to create a money movement innovation that is actually somewhat ahead of the West.  This innovation is called Mobile Money and it is rapidly gaining popularity in Uganda.  In fact, my prediction is that Uganda will skip credit cards altogether.  (A similar thing happened in telecommunications – cell phones became affordable before infrastructure was in place for landlines.  Accordingly, virtually no houses and not many businesses have landlines, which is where the US is clearly heading).

Mobile Money operates off of the cell phone platform (MTN is the biggest player in the cell phone market and got an early jump on Mobile Money relative to its competition).  Here is how it works: a customer will take cash to an authorized Mobile Money dealer (there are tons of them around within easy reach).  The dealer creates a Mobile Money account for the customer and places the amount of the deposit on the customer’s account (minus a very modest fee).  The customer then merely needs to input a passcode into the program on the phone to get access to the money.  At that point, Mobile Money works just like PayPal – the most popular system in the US for moving money around via the internet.

Mobile Money

With the increasing use of Mobile Money by regular folks, an increasing number of businesses are accepting Mobile Money as a form of payment for goods and services.  One person with a Mobile Money account can immediately transfer money to another account holder with the stroke of a few keys on the phone.  Accordingly, borrowing a few bucks (or shillings) from a friend is more easily accomplished via text message than it is to reach into a wallet, remove the bills, hand them to someone else, who then puts the bills into her purse.

Old fashioned theft mechanisms of purse of wallet snatching may quickly become a thing of the past as cash may soon be unnecessary.  (Phone theft is pointless because the money can only be accessed with a password and the account can be frozen in a matter of minutes via a Mobile Money dealer).  I can imagine a day soon where beggars on the street will be holding up signs with their Mobile Money account numbers.

In a very real sense, then, Uganda may actually be closer to going totally cashless than the US.

P.S.  Henry just called from his school and reported that his first three days have gone exceedingly well and he has “very many” friends.  Thanks for all the prayers on his behalf.

Chicks in the House

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Lots of chicks.  Lots and lots of chicks.  Overrunning the house.  They barely sleep.  All they do is eat.  And they are pooping everywhere.  Next week, they will be kicked out of the house and made to fend for themselves in the small barn behind the house.

Last week, Henry’s family had 240 three-day-old chickens delivered to their house.  They bought these chickens with the remainder of the cow money that we left with them the prior week.  If you have no idea what I am talking about, click here.

This past weekend, Henry told me about the delivery and how excited his family was.  We have been quite heartened to hear that the reaction of their neighbors has been uniformly positive.  We had been concerned that resentment or jealously would arise, but the fact that Henry’s family had (and then unjustly lost) the cows and chickens has completely mitigated this risk.

Here is a video Henry took with his phone of the chickens, which are living in their house for their first week.

Unrelatedly, I got some really cool business cards this week.  My good friend Bob would call them “bitchin’,” but I don’t use that kind of language.  At least as far as my mom knows.

New Business Card

A Mother’s Heart

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Do you know that empty feeling you get when someone leaves?  It might be from a friend moving away, or a child going off to summer camp, or a sibling leaving for college.  Well, I have that feeling tonight.  When I look around our apartment, nearly everything I see reminds me of Henry.  I see the deck of cards scattered on the table where he was teaching the kids card tricks, I see the school supply list that we spent all day Saturday shopping to check off, I see the school calendar from his new boarding school, I see the rice krispy treats he made with the kids, I see the leftover pancakes in the refrigerator from breakfast this morning, I see the sewing kit which I used to mend his shirt before church, I see the band-aid wrapper in my purse from the cut he got from carrying his heavy metal foot locker into school today, I see his cell phone that we must keep for him because they are not permitted at school.

Henry playing cards with Gash & Gregston kids.

 

Henry making rice krispy treats with Joshua & Jennifer.

 

Henry with Gash family at church.

My heart is sad because we had to say goodbye to Henry today, but my heart is glad because we have been praying for this day for so long.  As my husband and I attended the parents meeting today, with Henry sitting between us, we were so proud to act as his guardians.  I should not have been surprised that we were the only mzungus (white people) in the room, but we tried to blend in as best as we could.  Henry has wonderful parents, but it would have been difficult for them to make the journey to Kampala and take him to school.  There were many supplies that needed to be purchased, packed, and delivered to the school.  We really felt like we were taking our first child to college.  It was great practice for when we will be taking Jessica to college in a couple of years.

Jim & Joline taking Henry to school.

If all goes according to plan, Henry will study physics, chemistry, and biology at this school for two years, then go on to study medicine in a university.  His dream is to become a doctor, and I believe he will do it.  Henry is smart, hard-working, and has wonderful people skills.  I think he will be a great doctor someday.  It will be hard for us not to be able to see him until March on visitation day, but we will be praying for him daily.  I know God has a plan for Henry.  I am just happy to get to watch that plan unfold.  So, the joy that fills my heart is covering that empty feeling I have from saying goodbye.

 

Back to School Day

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On Friday afternoon, my driver (Sherlock) and I went to pick up the letter that would supposedly say I was allowed to drive the government car I had been carried around in for the past four weeks.  But when I opened the letter, the first thing I saw was my score – 68 of 100: Pre-Driving – 20 of 30, Driving Theory (I kid you not) – 18 of 30, Technical Proficiency – 30 of 40.

“Um, what is passing?” I nervously asked Sherlock.

“50 of 100,” came his reassuring reply.  “I got a 75 after driving here for ten years.”

Good thing their expectations are so low.  (Unfortunately, the low expectations are not limited to driving skills).  My sense from being on the road is that most people behind the wheel would score in high 30s in Technical Proficiency, but in the low single digits in Driving Theory.

Late Friday afternoon, Henry arrived on the bus from Hoima and met me at the mall.  Joline and the kids had spent the afternoon at a craft market with Sara Ribbens on her last day in Uganda – she flew home with her kids on Friday night (huge answered prayer) – so they met us there also.

Since we needed to drop Henry off at school on Sunday afternoon, we had quite a bit of shopping to do because his school is a boarding school and almost everything on the “Required” list he didn’t have.  We grabbed some low hanging fruit, and then ate at the Indian food restaurant in the mall.  Henry had never had Indian food before, and neither had my other two kids (Jessica was still out of town doing medical mission work with the Gregstons).  Everyone loved it, especially both kinds of goat we ordered.  We decided to hit the shopping hard in the morning.

I had previously decided that I was going to try to avoid driving at night, if possible, so it was not ideal when my first time behind the wheel with my family was after dark.  Fortunately, all went well.

In the morning, Henry joined us for our daily exercise routine – he can now operate a treadmill like a gym instructor.  After showers, our shopping spree kicked off, at least for some of us.  Joline and the kids (plus Henry, minus Jessica) dove in while I met with an American named Holly who has encountered some difficulties with finalizing her legal guardianship of twin three year-old girls and has been in Uganda for six months now.  I hope I can be of assistance to her, but the situation is a bit different from that of Sara.

Over the next six hours, we got Henry the following items:

Mattress and bedding

Towels

Three pairs of shoes

Socks

Underwear

Pajamas

Biology book

Soap

Toothbrush

Toothpaste

Iron

Dishes

Utensils

Paring knife

Thermos

Mosquito Net

Alarm clock

Cleaning supplies

Laundry basin and soap

Calculator

Notebooks

Pens and pencils

T-shirts

Swimsuit

Apron

10-liter Jerry Can

And some other assorted items

I made it back and forth to the mall hitting only four potholes and two pedestrians.  Actually, I didn’t really hit any pedestrians, but I scared a few with my wiper blades.

We took a few pictures of the haul to commemorate the occasion.

Henry with School Supplies

Later that night, Jessica arrived home.  They had seen over 1,000 patients in four days in two villages.  Sadly, a three year-old girl who had been sick with malaria for two weeks died while she was being rushed to the hospital.  As you might expect, that hit everyone pretty hard, as the Gregston’s post indicates.

After church on Sunday morning, Joline, Henry, and I set out for school to check Henry in.  Before we left, the six of us circled up and prayed that all would go well.  The kids and Henry hugged it out, and then we got on the road.

I hate being late.  Ever.  For any reason.  No matter where I am going.  Period.  Unfortunately, we got a later start than I had hoped, but we were still going to be fine unless we got lost.  Well, we got lost.  My faithful navigator (Joline) tried to find us on a map, but to no avail.  Like the real man I am, I was pretty sure I could find my way without asking for directions.  (The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so I got a bit short tempered as well).  Then we hit an epic traffic jam.  We just sat there for about ten minutes.  Finally, Henry jumped out, conversed with a local in Luganda, and figured out where we should go.  When he got back in the car, he explained where we needed to go . . . which was exactly where I was already headed.  At least as far as you know.

We arrived about five minutes early, but the place was crawling with parents and students.

Registration

After about forty-five minutes, we got him registered.  Fortunately, the mandatory assembly started about an hour late, so all was well.  The auditorium held about 500 and almost every seat was full.  Never have Joline and I felt so many eyes upon us wondering who we were and what we were doing there.  We just smiled, shook hands with some folks, and sat with our “son” between us.  Someone could have detonated a kiloton bomb and not another mzungu would have even heard it, let alone felt its concussion.

The assembly was informative and engaging.  We had an overwhelming sense of peace that this was exactly the right place for Henry.  So did he.  After the assembly, Henry moved into his dormitory, but school rules didn’t allow us to go in.  He came back after about twenty minutes to say goodbye, and told us that he had two new friends already.  We shared some “I love you’s” and fought back tears as we felt like we were dropping our first kid off at college.

Just before parting ways

Joline will be posting in the next day or so with more of the details of Henry’s schedule, but suffice it to say that we won’t be able to see him for two weeks.  We are praying that God favors him with a good start and lots of good friends.  We would love your prayers as well.

Jesus, Take the Wheel

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The Carrie Underwood song after which this post is named takes on added significance when living in Africa.  There have already been many instances in the four short weeks we have been here where we have found ourselves seeking the sort of surrender this song implies.  But the reason for the title of this post has much more literal than figurative significance this week.

Why?  I have decided to drive in Uganda.

Why?  We are growing weary of having to call (and pay, and wait) for a driver every time we need something at the store, want to go to the mall, etc.  As I have previously posted, the Ugandan Judiciary has been quite kind to provide me a driver and a (stick-shift) car for my trips to and from work and various appointments.  But this leaves us a bit wanting in the evenings and on the weekends.  Since the car is a government car, one needs special permission from the government and an international driver’s license to drive it.  Before I left the United States, I secured an international driver’s license.  To get it, you need fifteen bucks and a faint pulse – you don’t even need to be able see.  Seriously, they issue international driver’s licenses to the blind.  If you don’t believe me, look at the regulations themselves here.

So what’s the big deal?  Well, to get permission to drive a government vehicle, you need to take a driving test.

OK, so what’s the big deal about taking a driving test?  Well, Uganda is a former British Protectorate, which means that they drive on the left side of the road here.  As one might expect, the steering wheel is also on the opposite side of the car – on the right.  This, in turn, means that the stick shift is to the left of the driver.  Likewise, the turn signal is on the right, rather than on the left – on the left is the windshield wiper controls.  Adding to the challenge is the utter lack of road stripes, stop signs, or other discernible traffic rules (there are only five stoplights in the entire country).  Add to the mix a meteor shower of motorcycles driven by seemingly suicidal teenagers who are carrying one passenger, two passengers, three passengers, a small herd of goats, enough lumber to build a two-bedroom apartment, enough sugar cane to keep the Coke factory supplied for month, etc.  Sprinkle in a herd of pedestrians (most of whom are children) for whom Frogger just isn’t quite realistic enough.  And, of course, the road is potholed like it has been hit by a meteor shower.

Kampala Traffic

Since early this week, I knew I was taking the driving test today.  On Tuesday, I switched places with my panicked driver for the last kilometer of my trip home – a lightly trafficked stretch of road with only a few turns.  As I pulled out into traffic, and tried to find second gear with my left hand, he muttered something in Luganda.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It is a Ugandan saying that means, ‘if you can’t find it, grind it,’” he replied.  Is that supposed to be funny??

With each turn, on came the windshield wipers.  “No, the turn signal is on the other side,” he said repeatedly stressed.  I (barely) resisted telling him an American saying that starts with “no” and ends with “Sherlock.”

Then on Wednesday, I took over for the last three kilometers home, including through some “intersections,” which are simply free-for-all-roundabouts.  Less grinding, more wipers.

So today, we went to the Ugandan version of the Department of Motor Vehicles.  Unlike in the United States, I didn’t have to wait in any lines.  Instead, we were escorted to a back room to meet with a guy behind a desk.  He inspected (i) the letter I brought with me from the court that requested the test, (ii) my international permit, (iii) my California driver’s license, and (iv) the fidgety mzungu sitting in front of him.

“The application fee is Twenty-Five Thouthand Shillings,” he declared.  (Most people in Uganda pronounce “Thousand” as “Thouthand.”)  I had no idea if this was legit or not, but he looked serious, so I pulled out my wallet and handed him three ten thouthand shilling notes.

“Got change?” I inquired?  He scowled at me as if I had said, “I got this money from your wife” or something equally offensive.  He muttered something in Luganda to his buddy sitting across the room, who then pulled out a five thouthand note from his pocket and handed it to me, pocketing one of the ten thouthand notes.  I thought about asking for a receipt, but thought better of it.

Mr. DMV motioned for me and my driver to follow him outside.  Along the way, he quizzed my driver (in Luganda) about my driving abilities, who mercifully covered for me (or so he later claimed).  Just when it appeared that Mr. DMV was going to give me a pass, his supervisor emerged and instructed him to take me for a test drive.  Here we go . . .

Sherlock whispered to me a quick reminder about the location of the turn signal and wished me luck.  The parking lot from which we were to emerge dumps uphill into a fairly busy road.  “Should I turn left?” I hopefully asked.  “No, go right.”  This, of course, meant crossing traffic uphill to the wrong side of the road driving a stick shift on the wrong of the steering wheel, which is located on the wrong side of the car.  Now or never, I thought.  I gunned the engine, released the clutch, and flipped the turn signal, which cued the flippin’ windshield wipers.  Mr. DMV glared at me incredulously.  “Windshield was a bit dirty,” I weakly muttered as I fumbled to shut them off (speeding up their motion before finally halting them).

For the rest of the five-minute drive, Jesus took the wheel.  I passed.  As of tomorrow, I will have a car on the weekends and in the evenings.  Unfortunately, I may also have one less pair of underwear for the rest of the trip.

In other news, Sara Ribbens had her interview with the US Embassy on Wednesday and was issued a visa to return Nya and her other kids!  She leaves tomorrow!  Here is her celebratory post.

Additionally, I picked up all of the paperwork that Henry will need to start school on Monday.  He is taking a bus from Hoima tomorrow afternoon to stay with us on Friday and Saturday night.  We will spend a good portion of Saturday shopping for what he needs to bring with him when he checks into the boarding school on Sunday afternoon.  Our shopping list includes a mattress and bedding, a ten-liter jerrycan(?), a flask(?), a plastic basin, two bars of soap, a pair of slippers, a pair of sandals, canvas shoes, a peeling knife, a mosquito net, a night dress(?), a mug, utensils, an electric flat iron, a box file, an apron, a swimming costume (?), ten rolls of toilet paper, a rag, and rubber drier (?).

Joline and I are looking forward to attending the mandatory “parent meeting” on Sunday.  We will post pictures of us dropping Henry off.

In case you haven’t tested your Uganda cultural literacy, check out the new tab Daily Quiz we have set up.

Also, if you don’t know the Carrie Underwood song referred to in the title, click here.  And if you want to see a hilarious parody of it – “Cletus Take the Reel” – click here.

New Order

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As I indicated in my previous post, Friday was an intense and suspenseful day.  Fortunately, it ended well.  As I have written about previously, the Ugandan court of appeals issued a landmark decision about ten days ago that affirms the power of the Family Division of the High Court to grant legal guardianship to non-citizens of Uganda over orphaned or abandoned Ugandan children.  This is important because Ugandan law does not permit non-Ugandan citizens to adopt Ugandan children unless the non-Ugandans have foster parented the child for at least three years in Uganda.

There had developed a split among High Court judges as to whether a grant of legal guardianship was permissible under Ugandan law because such a grant allows the child to immigrate with the family who was granted a legal guardianship over the child to a foreign country and then be adopted in that country, which effectively gets around the adoption preclusion.  The couple about whom I have been posting, Andy and Sara Ribbens, had been denied legal guardianship of an abandoned Ugandan baby based upon jurisdictional concerns of the High Court judge who had decided their case.

Ten days ago, the court of appeals granted the Ribbens legal guardianship of the young girl (Nya) and granted them permission to immigrate to the United States with her.  That gave rise to a huge celebration, as indicated in my prior post, and Sara’s post.  Unfortunately, the celebration was short-lived.  When we received a copy of the 26-page ruling a few days later, we discovered that it contained a provision that explicitly stated that if the Ribbens wanted to adopt the child, such adoption would have to occur in Uganda.  This mandate, in and of itself, was not a problem.  Adopting Nya in Uganda would be perfectly fine.  In fact, the Ribbens would have been thrilled to adopt Nya in Uganda.  But they are precluded from doing so for two more years (they have been here nearly a year).  The bigger problem, however, is the United States’ requirements for obtaining a visa to allow the Ribbens to bring Nya into the United States.

There are essentially two possible visas available for parents bringing children from other countries into the United States.  One type (IR-3) allows for a visa to be issued after the child is adopted in the child’s home country.  This is not available for Uganda unless the parents are willing to live three years in Uganda with the child.  The other type (IR-4) allows for a visa to be issued after the would-be parents are given legal guardianship over the child and permission to immigrate the child to the United States, so long as they are not precluded from adopting the child in the United States.  Herein lies the problem.  Because the court of appeals decision mandated that Nya be adopted in Uganda, the US Embassy was not empowered under its guidelines to issue a visa.

As you might imagine, it was heartbreaking when we learned that the court’s ruling, which was clearly and unmistakably intended to permit the Ribbens to take Nya to the United States and allow her to grow up as part of the Ribbens’ family, had exactly the opposite effect.

Lots of prayer and lots of strategizing ultimately resulted in a flurry of activity on Friday, including the fastest appellate brief I have ever written.  Late Friday afternoon, the Ribbens’ Ugandan lawyer was permitted to make a brief argument in chambers to the court of appeals (they allowed me to sit in and watch silently) seeking a revised ruling from the court that would omit the language that precluded the issuance of the visa by the US Embassy.  After deliberating, the court announced that it was granting the motion for reconsideration so that the purpose of its prior ruling could be fulfilled.  More tears.  There was a special moment when Sara and Nya (and the other family directly affected by this turn of events) were permitted to personally thank the court.

We are now praying that the final stages of the process will go smoothly this week with the US Embassy so that the Ribbens family can travel back to the United States.

Blood Lab Round 2

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Jared practices with the tourniquet

I’m so excited and scared for Tuesday. Tuesday is the day that I leave with the Gregston family to go on a 5 day medical mission trip. That’s the exciting part. The scary part is that there will be no lab technician. We’re not quite sure what our lab capabilities will be yet, but whatever they are, in America, they generally aren’t run by two 16 year olds and a 12 year old. Thankfully, because of our “practice” (stabbing various Ugandans) in the lab, I would trust Jake with my life when it comes to malaria and there is no one I would rather have draw my blood than Jared the 6th grader, so we’re in pretty good shape. The downside is that not one of us has even set foot in med school, so we really have to rely completely on each other. And people thought “trust falls” were a good team building experience..

I feel so blessed that the Gregstons are letting me come with them on their trip and so grateful that they are here. I’m reminded hourly (they live about 2 meters below us) how amazing it is to have them here. I can’t imagine our trip without them. This is one of the few times in my life that it has fully and completely hit me that God really knows what we need before we even ask.