The Only Person in Uganda I Have Not Liked

Thursday at noon found me sitting at Cafe Roma at Oasis Mall with Jurjanne. We were there to meet Aidah’s probation officer and her parents. While we waited, we talked about the probation officer.
She is young, about 24, and has the job because her father is friends with someone who knows someone...like almost everyone I have met here. I end up feeling truly sorry for the ones who are really fit for a job and can’t find one because they are all held by relatives or friends of the boss. The probation officer has no experience, and this is the first time she’s had to write a report for a child to be adopted. The grammar geek in me was forced to sit on my hands and not scribble all over her report with a red pen. My attorney said today, “Before I saw her, I was expecting a 12 year old because her writing is so poor.” Aidah's entire case has been held up by this poor performance, and it wasn't until we made it clear that we would not pay a bribe for the report and she was reported to the Ministry of Gender for requesting exorbitant amounts of money for her work, in addition to her pay.
We sat and sat and sat at the cafe, and finally, in came the PO, followed by Aidah’s parents. Aidah’s father and mother sat across from me, but when I was introduced as the woman wanting to adopt Aidah, her mother, Ester, fell on her knees in front of me and shook my hand, holding it close to her face. Her father, Jacson, shook my hand across the table, and eyed my empty plate, left from a piece of apple pie. I immediately asked Jurjanne if we could ask the waiter to come over. We ordered 3 passion fruit drinks, and then the PO mentioned that she was so fatigued from the long taxi ride, that she needed food before she could do any work. The waiter gave her a menu, which she perused, and then asked “Don’t you just have chicken and rice?” The waiter, clearly confused, said, “Yes, it is here. Pulled Caribbean Chicken with Rice.”
“Pituey!” spat the PO. “I am African! What do I want with Caribbean food?”
Jurjanne broke in, “Do you have anything like just plain barbeque chicken?”
“Yeeeessssss” the waiter answered haltingly. “See? Right here?”
“Well, then, bring it, and add rice, please,” answered Jurjanne.Problem solved. In just a few minutes a heaping plate of chicken, rice, and chips (french fries) were brought to the PO. Aidah’s father eyed the plate and I asked him, “Do you want the same?” The PO’s mouth was stuffed full of chicken as she spat the translation at him. He nodded and we asked for 2 more plates exactly the same. The waiter once again tried to direct our attention to the beautiful Caribbean chicken, but again Jurjanne put him in his place. “These are simple people. They want regular chicken. Bring them regular chicken with rice and chips!” So, again a few minutes later, 2 more plates were delivered and everyone chowed down. During this whole time I was attempting to communicate with the parents through the PO, but she was having nothing to do with that. “Do Jacson and Ester have any questions for me?” I asked? “Why are you in such a hurry? We have time to talk! Let us eat first.” So, we ate. And as each of us fell off our plate, full, Jacson would eye it hungrily. In about 30 minutes, he had a stack of plates, 4 high, in front of him, as he devoured the remainder of the food on our plates. The only one not giving up her food was the PO. I looked over at her, wondering when the right time was to ask if the parents had any questions. Finally, I opened my mouth. “Do the parents have any questions for me?” She was wrestling with a particularly tough chicken leg, as well as filling her mouth with coleslaw. A small bit clung to her lower lip and I stared at it, a bit fascinated. She translated to the parents, but eventually became aware of this bit of cabbage, and licked it away with her tongue and then spat it across the table. Ester jerked back with shock, as did Jurjanne and I, and we all looked at each other and laughed. Jacson and Ester mentioned their 4 younger children. They are not educated. They would like them to be educated. They want this responsibility to fall to Aidah, and while i have no objection to helping with that, it is a very clear violation of USCIS to offer or promise anything. Then they asked if Aidah would attend school, and what followed was a crash course in homeschooling. Ester asked incredulously if this was something every American could do - teach their child at home. I said, “Yes, if one has the mind to do it.” She replied, “Are you so smart that you will teach Aidah all the things she needs to know for school?” I laughed and replied that I am not so smart, but that we have books and spouses and computers to help us. “Ahhhh....” and she shot a look sideways at her estranged husband, who was cracking down on a chicken thigh. I asked the PO if there were any other concerns she had for me, and she rolled her eyes. “We have so much time! Please, stop talking and let me eat!” So, we all sat in silence and watched her eat, and eat, and eat. Finally when she was done, she wiped her face with a napkin and got about the business of translating. But 5 minutes into it, she collapsed back against the booth with a big groan. “This is hard work! All this talk!” Jurjanne said, “Well, yes, hard work, but it is *your* work. You must do it, eh?” I explained to the PO that I had some questions for the parents, things that every girl wants to know about her family at some point. How did her parents meet? When was Aidah born? Was she a happy baby? What were her favorite foods? Toys? Did she have childhood pets? Are her grandparents still living? Great-grandparents? Great-great grandparents? With each question, the PO became more and more exasperated with me, as the parents became more and more talkative. They started to share funny things that Aidah had done as a baby, and Ester remembered holding Aidah right after she was born and thinking what an ugly baby she was. I laughed and shared how I was terrified when Gwen was born because she was so blue! When I asked, “Has Aidah always been so quiet?” the answer came back in translation, “Yes, she is a very dull girl!” Soon the parents talked and talked and talked, and when I asked for a translation, the PO assured me it was nothing important. And in a few minutes, “Yeah, they are talking about how you are a wonderful parent.” And then, a few minutes later, “They are talking about stories of Aidah," and when asked for a translation, she responded, "Nothing funny or amusing, just remembering her clothing and her scrapes on the knees." Oh, how I want to hear those stories! Despite being assured several times by the PO that there was plenty of time, she had her place cleared and stood up to leave very soon after eating. She had to catch a boda to the other side of town. Jurjanne reminded her to be at our attorney’s office at 9:00AM, as court was at 10:00. She waved Jurjanne off, and left.

This morning, she did not show up for court. A few hurried texts to explain that she was caught in a jam and could not make it. And a text later to say that she had made it back home and good luck to us all.