What I left in Uganda

When I went to Uganda for the month of November, I thought I would be gaining a lot of things: two sons, quality time with my husband, an adventure, memories and great stories. I didn't think I would loose something there and really, I don't miss it. The thing I left in Uganda was my caring about what other people think of me.

We looked pretty bizarre to Ugandans and I quite agree! Two muzungus (white people) carrying two Ugandan children all around town in baby carriers. It was a sight to behold! The questions we received were pretty humurous, because I knew what they were asking.

"Is that YOUR child?"

"Are you married to each other?"

"Where are their real parents?"

What these kind Ugandans were asking as politely as possible was, "What are you doing with children who clearly don't belong to you?" And that is a valid questions and too hard to explain across language and cultural barriers to a passerby in the Uchumi (local grocery store) juice aisle. At first, it bothered me a little and then it sunk in. It really was a strange thing to have me and Craig come over 2,000 miles to a foreign country to carry around two children who didn't "belong" to us, even though adoption was a normal part of our culture. So, I stopped caring. Who cares what they think? They were correct, after all. And I knew why I was there, so it didn't really matter what they thought. I was at peace with the juxtaposition that we created and so I left what they thought of me right there in the aisle.

For the first time in my life, I was a minority. In a sea of Africans, me and my top-knot stuck out like a sore thumb. Everywhere I went, with or without Andrew and Simon, people stared. Even in the capitol city where there are a lot of ex-pats from Wales, England, Australia, and America, people still stared and wondered why these white people were being driven around their city. As we drove all over western Uganda were muzungus are a rarity, people would run towards our car, shouting and waving. I felt a little bit like a celebrity at all of this sudden attention just because the color of my skin. There was no anonymity anymore. If I tripped on my long skirt, everyone saw. If I gave the wrong denomination of currency, everyone was watching. If I couldn't stop my Ugandan son from throwing a huge tantrum, everyone was judging. And that was alright. My worrying how I was portraying the western world wouldn't change their perception of us from that chance encounter, so I stopped worrying what people thought and went on with whatever I was doing.

Sometimes the attention I received was less inviting. While taking a picture of the beautiful western hills, a Ugandan man repeatedly yelled with a vengeance, "Go away, muzungu." And when we drove by, he shook a disapproving finger at me and glared. I felt the weight of his angst against me and probably all of the muzungus that had come before me and brought pain to his nation. I could have lived under that shame, or I could walk away knowing that I was not causing intentional harm to the beautiful people and land of Uganda. So, I left what he and others who glared thought of my whiteness there on the roads of western Uganda.

All of our encounters in Uganda were not negative. By no means! We truly love the people in Uganda that we met and got to know. But I learned a lot about myself and how much I care about what others think about me on my trip out of my own country and out of my comfort zone. It was very revealing to have all eyes on me and realize how much I cared what all those eyes thought. Who knew I was so vain? O.K. You all probably did, but I was living in ignorance that I gave a hoot until I was surrounded by red dirt.

I also realized that there was no more hiding here in America when I returned. I was going to draw a lot of attention when I showed up to library story time with a quad stroller containing two curly headed blonde and two curly headed Ugandans. We are going to turn heads everywhere we go. I took a class about it in prepartion for our adoption called, "Conspicous Families." But you don't really realize how obnoxiously different your family is until you are back in your old familiar surroundings. And with four children four and under at my feet, I don't have time to worry about what the Jones think of my unconventional family.

So, good-bye, caring! And if you happen to float across the ocean back to my shore, I'll be sure to send you back where I left you.