Friday, the 14th
Another
day, another migraine. This is my third
day in a row, and I felt unprepared to go to the IOM at 7 AM.
People
have asked about the IOM and I am not sure how to describe it. I posted the picture yesterday of it, and
picture it with a ton of refugee families standing out front, in swarms. They are all carrying pieces of paper, all
speaking different languages and from countries all around Uganda. They escaped their different countries to
live and work in the capital of Uganda until they had enough money raised to
get a visa out of Uganda to trek across African to different European
countries.
So they
are there and anxiously waiting, and trying to storm the gates as soon as they
open. A man steps out with a list of
names of people that were allowed to enter.
I can see the list and Benny is number three on the list, but the guy
does not look at us at all. He is going
to every other family beside us, and yelling at them for not having their stuff
organized, mad because families are trying to sneak in people who are not on
the list, and more. At the very end, he
turns to us and we tell him that we supposed to be number three, and he lets us
in. Linda said he was very, very rude to
the families. I know he was not nice,
but I feel very sorry for him. Years of
being yelled at and dealing with people who are always trying to sneak one by
you can harden your heart, especially if you are not Christ centered.
We go in,
but the entire long room is packed already.
We have the very last seats in last the rows of chairs. And again, no AC, muggy inside, raining
outside. There is no use of deodorant and
the refugees are wearing layers and layers of clothing. The little refugee children are running around
like crazy people. There are two moms
who are at the end of the row, and this one child keeps walking down the row to
see her mom. But every single time, she
pinches or touches or kicks or coughs all over Benny and I. It already sounds like a TB ward in there. In fact, when I get called back to sign the
preliminary statements, I can hear hacking and coughing and babies
screaming. I start to get paranoid about
the flu, germs, viruses from foreign countries.
The whole thing was kind of funny because TB is the ONLY thing the IOM
is testing Benny for and I was sure, hearing all of that through 4 doors and
hallways of security, that some people were going to test positive.
Two more
adoptive families walked in behind me – two separate women, each adopting two
children. A third woman marches in with
her 1 son and demands that she be seen, obviously an American. “Well I called and called yesterday and
nobody answered, so I am here today and we need to be seen. Well what do you mean I need a birth
certificate? (all of the IOM paperwork from the Embassy shows that you need a
passport and a birth certificate to be seen and you need to drop them off and
open a case before you even get an appointment.) Well what happens if I go get it now, can I
be seen this afternoon? Can you just
prick him now and I will return Monday to have it read with the paperwork?” The woman at the counter was showing her the
three steps that needed to happen and I was getting angry just listening to the
tone in the mom’s voice. As much as I wanted to smack the kid that
kept walking by, and her snotty mom who was giving Benny and I dirty looks, I more so
wanted to go up and have a word with that mom – “Look lady, you are what has
driven the adoption process to be ridiculously long like this. Follow the stinking rules, treat people with
joy and respect, and your life would be ten times easier.”
Instead I
started holding Benny like a baby. We
were up early, and had been waiting for 2 hours already and it was hot and
yucky, and he was starting to turn into a pill. I pulled out my rosary and began
praying a chaplet. As soon as I got
towards the end, and my headache picked up again, but we were suddenly called
back for the B test. And literally, all
they did was draw a big black circle on his arm, prick him and then they told
us to come back on Monday at 9. 2 hours
of waiting for 2 minutes in a metal chair.
So, it
was still pouring when we left, so we really just went home and I worked on
something for Linda, while Benny took a nap.
And then we went without power, so we went back to the room, and I
locked the door and took a nap, while Benny destroyed the room. I woke up and took a picture of him. He had taken out the suitcases and flipped
them all over. He then emptied the
garbage can onto the floor, and was using it as a drum, just rocking out. It is hard to be mad about the huge mess when
you knew it was coming the moment your head hit the pillow.
In fact,
before laying down, I did a quick mental summary, checking off anything that
could be broken or damaged while I was asleep.
I had even hid my laptop bag and tablet under the chair by the
door. Normally I slide them under the
bed, but decided that if he were to spill a cup of water, by the bed was where
he would do it. Why do I think
this? Well, when I fell asleep it was
3ish, and I was in my 3rd dress of the day. The first dress he ruined after I put his
head cream on him, he decided to literally rub it off on my dress at 6:15 AM. The second dress literally came off about 10
minutes later when I was sitting on the bed putting my shoes on and he laid
down the water bottle on the bed next to me, with no top on. Yes, my side of the bed was still wet when I
fell asleep with my migraine 8 hours after he had done it, before the IOM.
We got
dressed and headed out to dinner. You
never know what a Friday night will look like at the Terrace; a dinner party, a
million couples dining out, groups of girls gathering and drinking their week
away. We ate quickly, and headed back to
the room. I finally got to talk to my
sister and wish her a late happy birthday – a facebook message on her birthday
did not quite seem god enough. It was a
nice way to end my night.
I did
repack my bags again because Father Michael is coming into town tomorrow to
sign some paperwork. I have bags and
bags of stuff – mostly gifts, for people in Masaka and at his parish. I would have a lot more room in my tiny cell
if I could get rid of these items that took up more than a whole suitcase. I will be very glad to have the space, for
sure. I also did a pretty big pile of
laundry, forgetting that I wanted to take a shower tonight. Now I have to wait until the clothes are dry
before we can mess around in there too much.
Benny
loves to play in the water, and he will sneak in every chance he gets and turn
on the spicket. I am not sure if you
have realized this or not, but all of the water in Uganda (or most of the
residential usage water) comes from rain water collection tanks. The roofs have gutters that direct the flow
of rain into a huge water collection jug.
The water for washing dishes, using the sinks, toilets, and showers, all
come from these bins. So when I say that
we cannot drink the water, or that you do not want it in your eyes or mouth or
in open wounds, I mean it. The water is
not filtered, or purified or cleaned. It
is a little better than pond water most days, and it is the temperature of the
outside air, for the most part. Since it
was cold and raining, the water coming out felt freezing. When it is 95 for three days, the water is
much more tolerable, but this allows bacteria to fester.
So I am
going to bed now and begging for God to make me a more loving person. Fill me with Your peace, and let me radiate
the joy and love that I have for you!!
PS. How do you keep a child who is mentally a 2
year old from drinking the water? You
cannot. Which is probably why the
deworming process should be done again when I get home. No matter what I tell him, he is trying to
drink the water, splashing it in his mouth, bending down and trying to drink
out of the bottom spicket, and more.
Notes from my prayer journal: I needed a lot of
patience today that I did not have. I
kept closing my eyes at the IOM and throughout the afternoon begging God for it
– “Please help me, give me just an ounce of patience so this will not be so
painful.” Apparently painful was what
was being asked of me, and painful was what I got, physically and
emotionally. I needed to see the world
and the people in it with God’s eyes. I
should have felt sorry for the stressed out mom screaming at the front desk
lady. I should have been praying for the
stress and futures of the refugees in the waiting area instead of praying that
they control their children. I missed
opportunities for grace that were abundantly clear, now looking back. All I managed to do was eek out a Divine
Mercy Chaplet for my prayer petitions, and for my children. The scripture passage below is VERY relevant
for how I felt today, not just mostly applicable!
“So with you: Now is your time of grief, but
I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”
-
John 16:22
Soundtrack song of the day – You Found Me – The Fray
Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary,
Maternal Mediation, Day 23
The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 5 & The Novena to
St. Joseph, Day 5
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