Greeting from Uganda

zoe, mike and i are in uganda- literally.  not like in the first posting ever, where i re -write "landing in holland" to be "landing in uganda- the experience of raising a child with special needs" - but literally, uganda. 

we got here after one short flight with the boys to boston, to drop them with mikes parents; one long flight to amsterdam, and one long-er flight to uganda, followed by two hours of customs and diesel fumed car rides in the dark on dirt roads with few head lights but lots of traffic.  we arrived to the little guest house at the uganda christain university, where pinapples and toast and tea awaited us. where we were welcomed by birds that caw like monkeys and bougainvillea in every color. and despite thousands of miles and planes, trains and car rides, despite other languages and cultural differences and not having a real shower, the toughest thing about being in uganda this time, is the same thing that's hard about atlanta- zoe.

why am i surprised? really.  did i think the over the ocean flight would de-stick her? or that we'd magically go back to last time we were here with her, when she was 4 and just retreated into her own mind to escape her overwhelm?  i think i was experiencing magical thinking. 

right now mike is in the other room with her discussing our dinner with her new friend michelle- a beautiful 10 year old ugandan girl- an orphan recently adopted, who has clearly experienced much more loss than zoe has in her life- yet- she has her brain, which appears to function normally.  we had her over for dinner tonight and zoe launched into a conversation about servants in 1904-which we tried to brush under the rug.  she had already spent a while showing  michelle her ipod shuffle, and telling her about american girl dolls, how expensive they are, that she has 2, and then apparently tried to explain the civil war.  someone please teach me how to teach a class on the subtlies of cultural competancy to a child who has no, and i mean no, innate awareness. 

i mean in some ways, God bless her, for jumping right in.

hi i'm zoe. we're both 10, and instead of discussing what we like to play, i'll point out that i'm a white american and you are a black african and then tell you all about the intense and horrible history of race relations in my country, but forget to report how the civil war ended or how we believe things ought to be, and how far we've come. 

but really, when you try to dissect out what the human brain does naturally, how it absorbs and processes and intuits with out being taught- i'm only once again convinced of and humbled by the God who made us. this stuff isn't supposed to have to be taught! 

but this isn't the hard part.  the hard part is the hours (literally) of discussions we've had about her unarticulatable frustration with this inability.  her "I KNOW!" must really be, " I WISH I KNEW!" but she can't say that.  and how can you get mad at someone for what they just don't get- yet it is so maddening, especially because none of it is isolated- each moment for me has a past and a future.  so it's especially hard and important for me to be here now.  because in the crass words of my first boyfriend, "if you have one foot in yesterday and one foot in tomorrow, you'll just pee all over today".

so around the world- the moon is the same and our lives are the same- only with out two adorable little blond heads.  and with out a run today, i can still say i'm thankful.  so thankful for being here- for being able to go  back to the clinic i love and help out, for connecting with friends who live here, for having this time with mike and zoe, to have the hard talks, the time to let her cry with out having to rush off and go somewhere, and a chance for her to experience a different life- and learn from it.

maybe we can re-write my old friends words, "if you have one arm in yesterday and one arm in tomorrow- you're ready for a hug today." 

thanks for listening.