Christmas in Zambia

Classic first photo with Santa

Christmas this year was just a bit different for my family. There were none of the usual triggers to hint at the coming season and start getting you excited. No cold weather, frost on the ground, peppermint mochas at Starbucks, seeing your breath in the air, Christmas lights. Christmas is still a big celebration in Zambia, though, and just like in North America, once November rolls around, there’s Christmas music and decorations in the malls and grocery stores. It was sometimes difficult to reconcile sweating in the hot weather while doing your grocery shopping and listening to “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”. Most of the decorations are very European or North American themed. Santa is still a jolly white man with a big white beard. There were also the usual suspects in the mall -  Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph.  But, there were also examples of Christmas with an African flair.

Rudolph the Red Nose Kudu hanging in the grocery store. They also had an African snowflake decoration which was very pretty.

It wouldn’t be Christmas without a chicken and a cactus in Rudolph’s barn.

My mom and I had fun shopping for beautiful hand-made Christmas ornaments. I love the gourds.

I didn’t see any turkeys for sale in the store, but you could buy them live on the side of the road. I was amazed at the turkeys calmly awaiting their fate. We weren’t sure how you would get the turkey home in your car – strapped into the back seat? I had pictures in my mind of a turkey pecking at your head as you tried to drive home.

  I had a sobering realization that for many people in Zambia, it’s just not possible to celebrate Christmas. When I asked our housekeeper what she was doing to celebrate Christmas, she looked at me strangely at first. Then she replied that she would be spending it with family. She said, “When we have money, we have Christmas; when we don’t have money, we don’t have Christmas”.  This made me feel so grateful for everything that we have. Christmas was doubly special this year with it being Isaac’s first Christmas and also the day that Markus arrived back in Zambia. Waiting at the airport for Markus, I felt like I was in the movie Love Actually. It was really beautiful to see everyone meeting up with friends and family. Lots of hugs and happy tears. I did my best not to cry and did the classic Gill trick (my mother’s family) of biting my top lip. Couldn’t stop the tears though when I saw my husband walk out into the arrival area and my family had our very own Love Actually moment. It was amazing to see Isaac go happily into Markus’s arms for a hug. We weren’t sure how he would respond to seeing Markus again after so long, but I guess all the Skype conversations helped keep them connected. When we got back to our Zambian home, we had fun opening presents with Isaac. He was certainly spoiled by his family and friends back home. It was great to go for a family swim in the pool. Isaac liked his new bathing suit from his special aunties – Geeta, Sabrina, Cheryl, and Andrea. I liked that he didn’t lose his suit in the pool as had been happening before with his much too small suit. Isaac had a great time playing with his new toys and we all enjoyed the new books at bedtime. All in all, it was a wonderful first Christmas as a family.

 

It's more fun to eat the presents than open them.

Thanks for the new bathing suit, Aunties.

Isaac and Markus in their new Zambian soccer jerseys.

Thanks, Auntie Kate and Uncle Trevor for the new soother. Isaac is ready for Movember next year.

First Christmas photo as a family.

Being Conspicuous

  When I arrived in Lusaka, one of the things I felt for the first time was the feeling of being a significant visual minority. Coming from Vancouver’s melting pot of cultures and races, it was interesting and shocking to be a minority for the first time in my life in a place with predominantly one race. I definitely feel incredibly white here surrounded by black faces. Obviously, this was something I expected, but it’s one thing to think about it from afar and another to experience it first hand. Walking down the street, you are something to look at. I don’t think I’m quite used to being stared or yelled at yet. When we are out walking, cars will honk at us all the time. For the most part, I believe that they are taxis trying to see if we would like a ride. Apparently, it’s unusual for white people to walk anywhere here.

  Then you add Isaac to the mix and when before we were simply something to look at in passing, now we are an attraction. Inter-country adoption is a very new idea here. We definitely stand out walking along the street or while shopping. We are often stopped by strangers wanting to know, “Is that your baby?” I’ve learned that a simple “yes” usually doesn’t cut it. I’ve had people contradict me, telling me that no, that couldn’t be my baby. In one case, I asked a man, “why not”? He responded that our genes were different. I wonder what happens here to parents with biracial children. Maybe these families don’t exist here, I don’t know, but it would certainly be confusing for the children. It’s hard not to feel hurt when strangers feel the need to tell me that the baby I’m carrying is not mine. In my head, I come up with responses that I would like to use, but know that it’s better to walk away. It makes me feel better to come up with these ridiculous responses after the fact – “No, this isn’t my baby, but I saw him on the side of the road so thought I would take him home” or “No, I didn’t birth him from my loins, but he’s still mine”. I’ve found the best response, is to say, “Yes, he’s my son, we adopted him”. This seems to be more readily accepted. It seems that some people have difficulty with the idea that an adopted child could be “yours”. Not all the responses we’ve had have been negative. We’ve had really positive responses from some strangers and I try to remember these responses when faced with someone telling me that Isaac isn’t my baby. To be fair though, I understand the confusion. The idea of a transracial family is very new here and from what I’ve experienced, frankly shocking to some people. I can see people trying to figure us out. I know for myself that when I see a black woman with a white child here, I assume (wrongly or not) that she is the nanny and not the mother. Isaac and I don’t fit the natural assumptions that people have – white women don’t tend to work as nannies here, so I can understand the questions people have of why we are together. I understand them, but it doesn’t always make it easier in the moment when I just want to get through the check-out at the grocery store without getting into a personal history of how my family came to be.  

  The reading and courses you take as part of your home study prepare you for the idea that you will be a “conspicuous family”. I’m learning now what that feels like. I know from the adoption blogs I’ve read that I won’t be able to escape the intrusive comments or stares when we return to Canada, but I hope to have a bit of a reprieve in our beautiful East Van bubble.

  Although, the attention has been uncomfortable at times, I’m glad that I’ve at least experienced the feeling of being a visual minority because this is what Isaac will have to deal with as he grows up in Vancouver. Although, I won’t be able to completely empathize with his experience and the challenges that he will face as a black man in our culture, I have had a brief taste here of what it feels like to stand out because of the colour of your skin. I’ve also been able to for a short time experience what it feels like to have expectations and biases placed on you by others because of your race. As a white woman, I’ve had several people ask me if I could hire them as a nanny. They seemed initially confused when I explained that I would be looking after my own child. Again, another expectation that white women hire nannies. I’m hoping my time here in Zambia will allow me to better sympathize with and support Isaac when he faces the inevitable racism that exists in our culture. As a mother, I know that it will be difficult for me to not go into “momma bear mode” when a hurtful comment is made against the make-up of my beautiful family or my amazing son. I hope that we can arm ourselves with some responses to help us through these situations with grace and patience. So when someone tells me that Isaac’s not my son, I can calmly explain that there’s more to a family than just shared genetics. 

Three Month Update

  I’ve been in Zambia for three months now. It’s exciting to feel like I’m more than half way done the process, but also daunting to look forward to all that still has to happen. My mom, Isaac, and I had our adventure to Victoria Falls which was amazing. Our other touristy excursion was to the Kalimba Reptile Park. My patient and her daughter took us there as a thank you for the speech therapy. We were thankful that they took us as we would have likely never found the place on our own. The park was quite a ways outside of Lusaka down a long dirt road with of course very little signage. It has a large collection of poisonous snakes, crocodiles, and tortoises. I think our guide really enjoyed explaining all the different ways the snakes could kill us. There was also a pool there which of course was Isaac’s favorite part of the day.  

Even the tortoises each nshima here. Note: Nshima is a traditional Zambian food made from cornmeal. It's eaten at most meals similar to mashed potatoes.

First time on a slide. It was a hit.

  I’ve had another wonderful month with Isaac. Really, he’s just amazing to be around. He has two sounds now, “g” and “b”, which he was really excited about learning. As a speech-pathologist and proud mama, I just love listening to him babble away. We still get the squeals of excitement and the occasional raspberry which make my day. Isaac has been through another round of teething and now has two incredibly cute top teeth. He really leaves a mark now if he gets a chance to bite down on you. Unfortunately, he really enjoys biting my mom’s arms, legs, and collarbone – ouch. Despite my fear of him choking, I’ve introduced him to Cheerios. He has so much fun eating them. Whenever my mom and I are having something to eat, he’s not happy if he doesn’t have a pile of “Os” in front of him. Isaac is so close to crawling. He’s able to get up on his hands and knees and rock back and forth. He’s also started moving backwards a bit. Somehow, he hasn’t quite figured out how to move forward. It’s only a matter of time until he’s fully on the move. He’s also getting so much stronger in his standing and can stand holding onto the furniture with just some spotting support. I’m absolutely amazed at all the changes that have occurred in the past three months. 

Isaac with his "Os"

It's fun to make a mess and chew on the bowl too.

Isaac's new hat. I couldn't resist.

Isaac trying to climb out of the bath. Never a dull moment with him. I just love his Popeye arms.

  I feel like this month could be called the Paperwork Month. Whether I was waiting for paperwork, driving to get paperwork, being frustrated at not getting my paperwork, or working on the paperwork for my visiting permit, it seemed like paperwork occupied a lot of my thoughts and worries. All of our paperwork is now in with the social workers. Unfortunately, we are still waiting for an outstanding police report which is delaying our paperwork being sent to the court. No paperwork, no court date. It’s very frustrating. I’ve also had a “bang your head against a wall” frustrating time with the Immigration office and getting my three month visiting permit. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I spent several days there last week and still have to go back tomorrow. It feels a bit like the women who work there really enjoy making this process as difficult as possible. I was worried that I might be the problem, but after talking with one of our Zambian friends who has to deal with the Immigration office as part of her job, I found out that actually they are horrible to everyone who walks into the office; foreigner or local, it makes no difference. Tomorrow when I go in, I’m going to bring Isaac with me in hopes that a cute baby will help my case.

  We had a lizard living in our car for two days. My mom and I had a good laugh as we tried to shoo the lizard out of the car without any luck. I would go back to the car and find it sunning itself on the back seat head rest, but when I would open the door, the fast little guy would quickly hide under the seats. We finally had to just leave the car doors open for several hours. I think he’s gone now. 

Our stowaway.

 

  I was really excited to see this chameleon slowly moving across the top of our wall the other day. I had never seen one before, so it was a really neat experience. They move so slowly. I guess it's good they have excellent camouflage. He was really shy and didn’t want to get his photo taken. Fortunately, my camera has a good zoom.  

  This past month has been a big gear up for Christmas in the grocery stores and malls. It feels strange to think about Christmas when it’s so hot out and even stranger to walk through the grocery store listening to “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”. My mom leaves for Vancouver on Christmas Eve and Markus arrives on Christmas Day. Isaac and I will be very sad to see my mom get on the plane home, but can't wait for our reunion again in Vancouver. I'm so grateful for the time my mom has spent in Zambia with me. It's very special to see how close her and Isaac have become. Christmas this year will definitely be a unique, but wonderful time for my family. We’re going to miss everyone back home so much, but I can’t wait for Isaac, Markus, and I to be together for our first Christmas as a family. 

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Today was slightly cooler - maybe in the low 20s, so I decided it would be a good time for Isaac to wear his jeans and shoes for the first time. Isaac has several pairs of pants that he's never had the chance to wear - it's just to hot for jeans. We went to the mall for a little Christmas shopping and a coffee.  I sometimes get comments from Zambians that Isaac might be cold in just his onesie and perhaps he should be wearing socks or pants. It's usually 30 degrees outside when I get these comments. So, today I thought I had dressed him appropriately. I guess not - children and babies were wearing toques and ski jackets today. There was one woman who had a baby on her back wearing a toque and jacket, wrapped in a duvet. When we left the mall, it was probably in the high 20s, and we were all sweating in our jeans. Here are some photos from our jean photo shoot today.

The Falls

  Last week, we went to Livingstone to see Victoria Falls or Mosi-oa-Tunya, “the Smoke that Thunders”. We were told that there was “no water”, but still wanted to make the journey anyways. Although, it’s the start of the rainy season here, there really hasn’t been much rain yet, so to the locals in Livingstone, there is just “no water”. After actually viewing the falls, I beg to differ, but I can see how we did miss some of the splendor of the falls. Victoria Falls is the considered the largest waterfall in the world as it is the largest sheet of falling water. Unfortunately, at this time of year, much of the span of the falls was still rock. We did however get to see some of the mist that the falls are famous for. When the water is at its highest, this mist can be seen from 60km away and can in fact block your view of the falls when you are close. I thought the scenery was incredibly impressive and was thoroughly awed by what we did see, even if there was “no water”. I think you can see from the photos that this just wasn’t the case. 

  Before we left, my mom and I had both chosen activities that we wanted to do on the river. I was planning on white water rafting while my mom wanted to go canoeing with the hippos and crocs. Victoria Falls is all about extreme adventures - bungee jumping (more than a 100m drop), a gorge swing, zip line, walking with lions, to name a few. Unfortunately, my mom wasn’t able to do her canoeing as because it was slow season there weren’t enough people booked to go out. I was still able to go rafting. It was a great experience. There are six classes of rapids and we were able to experience several class five rapids. There was one class six rapid that we walked around. The kayakers still went down the rapid and it was absolutely insane to watch them navigate the walls of water and go through huge waves only to pop out on the other side. Class five rapids were chaos, but this class six was something else all together. Our boat flipped twice (once completely upside down). On the last class five rapid that we did, our guide warned us that we might completely flip the boat. Sure enough this happened. When I surfaced after what felt like a very long time, but might have been only 5 seconds, I looked back to see our guide riding the upside down boat down the rapids like he was surfing. He was pumping his fists in the air and yelling. Just crazy! During calm periods in the river, we were able to jump in the river and just float. It was such an awesome experience to float down the Zambezi River. The water was a comfortable temperature and the scenery was beautiful.

  For our final Victoria Falls experience, my mom, Isaac, and I took a boat trip to Livingstone Island. This small island is on the edge of the falls and is never completely covered by water, even in the rainy season. Just beside the island, is a small pool called the Devil’s Pool. Part of the fun when you are on the island is to swim out in the river, climb over some rocks to reach this pool. Once you are in this small, 4 meter deep pool, with tiny fish that nibble at your feet and legs, the only thing separating you from the falls and a long drop is a naturally formed rock wall. Isaac and I watched my brave mother who has a fear of heights, navigate the river and jump into the pool. That was definitely the highlight of her trip.

  One of the things my mom and I found refreshing at Victoria Falls was the complete lack of safety warnings. We were able to enjoy the view of the falls without the annoying warning signs – “Slippery when wet”, “Watch out, big drop!”, etc. If we had been in North America, there would have been any number of signs warning you about common sense safety precautions. It was nice to feel like we could just use our brains and know that it’s best not to get too close to the edge. My mom and I laughed at the safety precautions for the swim out to the Devil’s Pool. There are two ropes spanning the river. The guide explained that if you slip past the first rope, there is still the second rope to stop you. If you are very unlucky and also slip under the second rope, then it’s over the falls you go. We didn’t ask if this had happened before – sometimes ignorance is bliss. I also had a similar, never would happen in North America experience, at the end of the rafting trip. Because I had chosen to do a half day trip, I had to hike out of the gorge. The full day trippers got the cable car out. So after your legs are tired from the hike into the gorge, bracing yourself in the raft, and feeling like jelly from the adrenaline, you have about a 20 minute hike straight up the gorge. It felt like about 1/3 of the Grouse Grind in 35 degree heat with the sun on your back. To help you up the rock face was a ladder built out of branches, many of which were broken. As I was navigating this somewhat treacherous path carrying my helmet, lifejacket, and paddle, I realized that this was definitely a unique experience, possibly one that I could have done without, but still unique. I felt like I had definitely earned my mango smoothie at the end of the day. It’s mango season here – yum!

  While, Isaac didn’t get to experience any extreme adventures at the Falls, he enjoyed himself nonetheless. I have to say that he didn’t seem to be very impressed with the view of Victoria Falls, but the small waterfall into the pool at the motel we were staying at was a huge hit. Also, we made several trips a day to look at the enclosure of bunnies, guinea pigs, and one tortoise that they had at the motel. Isaac would scream with excitement every time he saw the bunnies. So, all in all, it was a great trip for everyone. 

It's a Kitchen Party!

  Last week, I had the good fortune of meeting a new friend while having lunch at Sugar Bush. Her name is Mwanida and I had such a great conversation with her that I got up the courage to ask her if we could go out for coffee some time. She thankfully agreed and then promptly invited me to a kitchen party that she was going to on the weekend. This is the Zambian equivalent of a bridal shower. I was a little nervous that I would be imposing, but she assured me that it would be no problem to have an extra person, even if I had never met the bride. She said she didn’t really know the bride either, but was friends with the groom. I was so excited for another Zambian experience. The whole afternoon was a lot of fun and so interesting. It was great to learn about the different customs and events that go into a wedding. The party was supposed to start at 1:00 with lunch being served at 2:00 and the whole thing coming to a close at 6:00. I think we arrived at around 3:30, right on time according to Zambian standards. Lunch hadn’t been served yet and the groom and his sisters still hadn’t arrived.

  The party was being held in the mother-of-the-bride’s large backyard. I immediately realized that kitchen parties are a big, big event, much different from the bridal showers back home. There was a huge white tent, drummers, dancers, a buffet lunch, bar, waitresses, servers, and approximately 200 guests (all women). Mwanida explained that the parents on both sides typically purchase (if they can afford it) appliances and kitchen items for the bride and groom to set up their kitchen. As houses, including unfurnished rentals, don’t come with appliances, this gift is an important one for a young couple. There was a big display of the gifts that the bride and groom would be receiving, including a new fridge and oven. Traditionally, guests would bring a gift for the bride and each guest would individually present her gift and explain the purpose. The guest would also have to give a small amount of money. According to Mwanida, if you did not give money in addition to your gift, you needed to do a dance for the bride. I was relieved that the bride had chosen the more modern option which was a monetary gift. I was surprised when I handed my money to an attendant that my name, the amount of money that I was giving, and my signature were all recorded in a ledger. I asked Mwanida the purpose of this. She said that it was both to ensure all the money made it to the bride and groom, but to also help in determining who would be invited to the wedding. As I gave the minimum amount indicated on the invite and know neither the bride nor the groom, I’m not expecting that invite in the mail anytime soon.

  I really enjoyed seeing all the different outfits. There were a lot of women in traditional attire. Many of the bride’s older female relatives were all wearing matching dresses and head scarves. The groom’s sisters all had different dresses made out of the same fabric. Even the groom’s niece had a dress made of the matching fabric with a little tutu. She was so incredibly adorable.

  I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but I ended up being included as part of the procession of the groom’s family as they entered the tent. Everyone was clapping, singing, and making loud, excited sounds that I can really only describe as “ai, ai, ai”. I did my best to join in. I tried to get out of the way as soon as the family reached the bride.

  The bride was seated on a raised platform with two elderly female family members on either side. Brides are covered head to toe with a chitenge until the groom or his female family members “unveil” her. As the groom was quite late, I really hope that she wasn’t sitting there completely covered by this fabric for that long as the day was very hot. The groom and his female relatives presented money and gifts to the bride. The bride then presented gifts to her groom. Following this, the groom was able to leave.

The bride under a chitenge. You can't see it, but she was wearing a very pretty dress and looked beautiful - you'll have to take my word for it.

Money gifts for the bride and groom.

  After the presentation of gifts, a female Reverend spoke and said a prayer and then another family member made what I can only describe as a lecture to the bride. She spoke for about 15 minutes and the theme of the lecture appeared to be along of the lines of the importance of keeping your home and staying traditional. There was mention that they shouldn’t be cooking only cabbage for dinner, but rather returning to the traditional foods. There were a lot of “amens” from the older women in the audience when this was said.

  I also learned about some other wedding traditions from Mwanida. It was so interesting learning about the different events. The groom also gets his own special event where the female members of the bride’s family cook for the groom’s family. This is another big event with lots of people and I can imagine a lot of work for the bride’s family. Interestingly, the bride has to take lessons prior to her wedding. These lessons are given by friends of the bride’s mother. Topics include cooking, keeping the home, and (shockingly) how to sexually pleasure your husband! I had a hard time imagining my mom’s friends giving me this lesson. I just couldn’t picture sitting down with Marilyn, Marjorie, Cathy, and Irene over coffee and going over in detail what I should be doing in the bedroom. I asked Mwanida if the groom had to have similar lessons (it’s only fair really). She said that at this time, grooms didn’t have to have go through these lessons (I guess, men already know it all – please note my sarcasm), but she had heard this topic being discussed on the radio the other day. I guess there’s some talk of guys having pre-wedding lessons as well as it’s felt to create an unbalance in the relationship with only the women having lessons. Then once the bride has completed her lessons, there is another event in which she has to demonstrate what she has learned to the female members of the groom’s family. Mwanida described her event which apparently involved some sort of erotic dancing on her part in only a bra and what she described as “what Jesus wore” – I think she meant a loin cloth, but I’m not sure. I have to say that I was thankful that in Canada the bride’s embarrassment is kept to the bachelorette party in which there tends to only be friends of the same age. I asked Mwanida’s sister, Chi Chi, who was also at the party, whether she wouldn’t have found it better (read - easier, less embarrassing) to talk with friends her own age about sex. She looked at me like I was crazy and then said that she really wouldn’t have considered it as her mom’s friends at around 60 years of age had so much more experience. I guess that is true, still, I don’t think I’ll be calling up Marilyn or Cathy any time soon for advice.

  All in all, it was a fantastic event. It was so much fun to hang out with some new friends, enjoy some good food, and savor the new experiences.

New friends - Chi Chi and Mwanida

In the News

You can learn a lot about a country from reading its newspapers.  The other day we picked one up and took a read through.

Some articles struck us as very similar to back home.

  One article talked about the nurses on strike who are demanding an increase in salary and reduction of nurse-patient ratios. They’ve asked for a 100 percent increase to their base salary which is a bit bolder than our unions in BC. The government is offering a 4 percent increase which obviously leaves a lot of room to negotiate.

  There was information on health care. For example, the government has launched a rotavirus vaccine in the country as a means to reduce deaths related to diarrhea for children under five. The WHO estimates that about 500,000 children under the age of five die each year from vaccine-preventable rotavirus diarrhea. Thankfully, Isaac was able to benefit from this new initiative.

  There were many articles on the government. Seems like corruption and anger about government actions are a world-wide phenomenon.

Some articles were very, very different from anything we would see back home.

There was a full page of advertisements for “doctors”. I’ve posted one below for your review:

Prof Opio Umal, the African traditional herbalist healer who can check your problems using a mirror is now in Zambia to solve problems like, lost lovers back in 24 hours, HIV/AIDS on symptoms, mental, penis and asthma, partners who can’t produce, financial, bad spells, cleaning houses and farms from evil, court cases, boosting business, quick buying and selling of property in 12 hours and exams etc for quick results. Pay after success.

  I have to say I do wonder what “etc” could refer to as Prof. Umal’s skills seem quite far reaching as he has already described. I also wonder how he makes any money if he only gets paid after success. :)

Here’s another one just because:

Dr. Anguzu – Treats more than 2000 deaseases, diabetes, TB, madness, B.P., inpotent, court cases, promotion, business problems, women problems, lost lover. Found in Kitwe.

  I do wonder about the need to find lost lovers. All of the ads referred to this as something the doctor could help them with. It made me wonder if there is a huge market for individuals looking for a lost love.

I should also note that while not in this paper, Canada has made the world-wide news. I’ve had two individuals here ask me about our mayor Rob Ford. Good to know we are making the news for all the right reasons. 

Adoption: Those without patience need not apply

  I’ve never considered myself a patient person. Probably the only exception being my patients at work. By their very label “patient”, I guess I feel like when I’m working with them if they can be patient, so can I. Usually, my patients put things into perspective. My bad day is nowhere near as bad as theirs. So aside from direct patient care, I would not consider myself to be patient. I would generally label myself as impatient in most situations. Traffic brings be to madness. Slow meetings make me crazy. Waiting makes me frustrated. I’m usually horrible with surprises – I’m so excited for the surprise that it’s difficult for me to keep it a secret. I like an element of control to my life. I’m a planner, an organizer. I like things to go as expected and when they don’t it can be difficult for me. So, dealing with infertility and then adoption was and is a huge challenge for me. Aside from the emotional grief, it’s the loss of control and the waiting which has and continues to drive me to insanity at times. Sometimes life throws things your way and you think, “Okay, this is a test for me, a lesson”. Well, this experience has been a lesson in patience. I’m not sure I’d get a passing grade though.

  When we started our adoption process, one of the huge draws to the Zambia program was the lack of a waitlist. In my mind, I thought, “why would I choose a 3-4 year wait, when we could get this all wrapped up in a year?” The efficiency of it all appealed to me. And relative to the world of intercountry adoption, our adoption process has been fast. I guess that’s supposed to make me feel grateful or give me a sense of relief, and I’m sure once we’re home and I can look at this with objective eyes, I will realize that this was a relatively short period of time. However, in the moment, I fully admit that I’m struggling with the wait. Yes, we are here in Zambia and Isaac is with me which is beyond wonderful, but there are still things that we are waiting for. Paperwork, immigration, visas. I will give you some examples of situations that have brought me to tears and made me want to pull my hair out.

Example #1: Canadian Immigration

  After sending an email with questions to the lovely folks at Canadian Immigration, this is the response I received:

 Your message has been received by the Immigration Section in Pretoria, South Africa. Our Service Standard is to reply to routine enquiries within 30 days. Repeat enquiries within this time frame will not expedite a response.

30 Days!!! Deep breaths, find your center, focus on the positive. I couldn’t believe that it could take 30 days for a simple response to my questions. Then when it took more than 30 days and I had to email them again politely requesting an immediate response to my questions, my frustration level was through the roof. I really should be monitoring my blood pressure. I think when my mom kindly pours me a glass of wine at dinner or suggests that perhaps we should buy some gin to make afternoon gin and tonics that she realizes it’s perhaps been a bad day.

Example #2: The Zambian Immigration office on Cairo Road.

  First of all, to get to the immigration office, you must navigate Cairo Road. This is no easy feat. Once you have safely made it through the crazy traffic and have narrowly avoided hitting any number of pedestrians that questionably venture out into the road, you reach the parking area in front of the building. Cars here are double parked. There are parking attendants to help you locate a spot which is chaotic at best. I’ve had to politely decline some of the spots that they’ve offered as being way too small. I’m definitely getting used to driving on the left hand side of the road, but this area of the city definitely puts all my skills to the test. So, you arrive at the immigration office feeling slightly frazzled only to be met by the blank stare of the woman at reception. No amount of smiles or social niceties appear to be able to crack a smile from this woman. Every 30 days we go there to get a stamp on our passport for another 30 days. After 90 days in the country, you have to apply for a 3-month visiting permit. The last time I was there, I asked about this permit. The woman told me that yes, this is when I have to pay and then left it at that. It was only once I was back home and was speaking with Felix, our contact from the adoption agency who liaises with the social workers, that I was informed that in fact I needed to have picked up a form from the immigration office and that really I should be starting this process now because it’s a lengthy process. AHHHH! I was just there and despite asking about the permit I was not informed that I should be picking up a form. The next week, my mom went to the Immigration office to find out if her passport could be stamped early as we are going to be away next week when her 30 days expired. She also planned on picking up the form for me so that I could stay home with Isaac. Not only would they not stamp her passport telling her that she had to return in four days (still early, but I guess an acceptable level of earliness), but they would also not give her the form stating that they needed to see my passport. I’m unclear why it was not possible for them to give her the form when she clearly explained what was needed. It’s hard not to feel at times like the women at the immigration office are purposely trying to be unhelpful.

  When I first had to get my passport stamped I went to the old immigration office. I was informed there that that I needed to go to the new office on Cairo Road. After speaking with Felix, I had understood that this building was called “Patience House”. I almost laughed out loud when I heard this. What a perfect name for the building that houses immigration. I later found out that I had misheard my social worker and that it was actually called “Pension House”, however, to my mom and me, it will be forever known to us as “Patience House”. Do not enter without your patience. 

Example 3: Waiting for paperwork

  I’ve been waiting close to seven weeks now for the paperwork to be completed for our adoption. The complete paperwork will be sent to the courts and only once they’ve received it can we begin negotiating a final court date. Obviously, I am motivated to have this paperwork completed as quickly as possible in hopes that we will be able to get an early court date. I would hate to wait around for weeks for our court date after our fostering period has ended. Well, when we first started the paper work process, I was told by Felix that it would take 4 weeks. I started enquiring on how things were going after 3 weeks. I was told that 5 out of the 6 documents had already been completed and that they were just waiting for a report from the police. After the four weeks was up, I enquired again. At that point, I was told that they were waiting for some documents from the lawyer and that the police officer was still on leave but would be back by the end of the month (I had previously been told that he was already back at work). In the fifth week, I was told that my paperwork would be ready on Monday and that it would be dropped off by the social worker for editing. On the Monday, I sent several texts to our social work asking when she would be by. She later told me that she was in court and would come by on Tuesday. Tuesday rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from her. I called her multiple times and sent multiple texts asking when she would be by. In the evening, I texted her to say that I could come by her office on Wednesday afternoon, but could she just let me know on Wednesday morning what time would be convenient for her. I heard nothing from her all day until late in the afternoon when she texted to say that she was at a workshop, the paperwork wasn’t completed, but that she would be able to get it to me by Thursday next week. Again – AHHHH! I’m unclear why I was told that the paperwork was completed only to find out that in fact it wasn’t complete and would take another week to be done. I spoke with Felix who kindly came by the next day. He was worrying that I was “panicking”. Of course, I’m panicking! I want this paperwork done so that we can get our court date and I’m confused as to why I’ve been told that it’s complete only to find out that it isn’t. Felix sensing that the problem may have been one of computer access (I found out there’s only one computer for 10 social workers), very generously lent his personal laptop to the social worker so that she could complete our paperwork and asked that it be done on Tuesday. I was feeling such relief after our meeting and incredibly grateful to Felix for his efforts to move things along. So, I was feeling really positive that all would be done on Tuesday this week. Well, Tuesday rolled around and I was starting to get nervous when I hadn’t heard from our social worker by 11am. She later phoned me to let me know that she had to unexpectedly go out of town on business. She left on Monday and would be back on Friday. She told me to not be disappointed as the paperwork was complete. I tried my best to calmly explain that the papers still need to be sent to Markus before they go to the courts and that I was really hoping this could happen soon. She again assured me that in fact the papers were complete and that she would come by on Friday so that we could do the editing. Yesterday (Friday), I waited around all day from her. I texted her twice with no response. I finally heard from Felix at 8pm to tell me that the papers were complete. I will believe it when I’m holding them in my hands. And so we wait…. and wait…. and wait….

  I can only hope that I finally get to meet with our social worker on Monday and actually start the next step in this adoption process. I feel like this has been a thorough introduction to African time. I knew going in there would be delays, but I wasn’t expecting the confusion, lack of communication, and missed appointments. I’ve been reminded by our adoption agency that timelines here are fluid and that everything will come together in the end. I can only hope that we have similar ideas about when that endpoint should be.

  I know once I’m back in Vancouver with my beautiful son that I’ll be able to see the big picture in all of this. In the grand scheme of life, these months are but a blip in time. However, in the midst of it, I have to say I’m having a difficult time seeing the forest for the trees, especially when it feels like these trees have lots of branches blocking my way.

Looking forward to when I can see the forest.

The Great Soother Debate

To cork or not to cork

That is the question.

Before we left for Zambia, my Nan kindly suggested that I bring a “cork” for the baby. Because as she put it, it’s a long flight back and you’ll likely want a cork. When we first brought Isaac home and he started having trouble falling asleep at night, I had initially tried the soother, but as he had never used one before in the orphanage, he promptly spit it out and continued to cry. I have to say that in the moment, I was disappointed that we wouldn’t have the soother to fall back on when the rocking and shushing just weren’t cutting it.

In the baby literature, there seems to be some debate as to whether to use a soother or not. In my opinion, within reason, whatever helps your baby to sleep is the way to go. So while I’m not going to use a little whiskey on the nipple a la Zach Galifianakis on Bored to Death (hilarious series), I really don’t see the harm in using a soother. Sure there’s always the possibility of a soother addiction which we’ve seen with Markus’s cousin’s little girl – they eventually had to resort to a nipple cutting ceremony when the soother started to disintegrate from overuse. But, as my mom points out, you don’t see adults walking around with soothers in their mouths (except for that horrible soother phase in the nineties), so the majority of kids will give up the soother at some point.

Back to Isaac, things had been going really well after our bout of sleep training. I was starting to feel some real confidence as a mom. I felt like I really had the sleep thing figured out. Sure, naps were a disaster and Isaac had decided that 4am was a great time to start his day, but he was only waking up once in the night for a bottle which felt like a huge success. Then he started teething again and everything changed. He started waking up on the hour again, but surprisingly he had long naps during the day – probably from exhaustion. I was back to feeling hung over again (sleep deprivation feels surprisingly like waking up after a bad night of drinking) and trying not to pull my hair out from frustration. I would rock and rock and rock Isaac to sleep and then slowly lower him to his bed only for him to wake up and start crying again. One night in a moment of weakness, I just lay Isaac down on my bed while he screamed and put a bottle of water up to his mouth. I thought to myself, I can do no more, it’s up to you kid. Miraculously, he quieted and fell asleep. At the time, it felt like a huge discovery to me along the lines of penicillin or electricity (when you’re sleep deprived, things tend to get exaggerated). Then next night, I tried the same tactic only to find out that once the bottle of water was finished, he was back to crying again. So as a last resort, I tried the soother again. And …. silence. Glorious, peaceful silence. It was absolutely wonderful. Isaac had fallen asleep in his crib without me rocking him. Our household and I’m sure those of our neighbours were all breathing a sigh of relief. Until the soother fell out and he started crying again. But, I’ll take it. It’s much easier to pop that cork back in than spend 1-2 hours rocking a baby to sleep.

My new motto for this week is when in doubt, put a cork in it. Thanks, Nan.