I need to
write a blog. No really when I get back to Uganda, I’m going to sit down once a
week and write. I’m going to write about everything, not just the snip-its
people read on Facebook. Really tell the story of living here in Uganda. That’s
what I said to myself two weeks ago when I was back in the US.
I really
hope this is the start of writing weekly, but I can’t make any promises.
I arrived
back to Uganda last Wednesday morning at about 3 am. Jack picked me up and we
headed to a guesthouse in Entebbe to catch up on sleep and well to catch up
without the love and energy four boys who haven’t seen their mom in 8 weeks
exude. I called Mary the girl who kept the boys for those 8 weeks and told her
I’d be home the next day.
Mary called
the next morning at 11 and the boys were all shouting, vying for the phone as
she was telling me they knew I was going to be back that day, they had
showered, dressed and were anxiously awaiting my arrival home. I told them I’d
be home by 2. At about 12:30 they called asking what color van we were going to
be in, as they were watching all the cars from the main road drive past waiting
to see “uncle jack’s or as they now affectionately refer to him as daddy, a
name Michael chose and profusely insists upon when I slip up and call him Uncle
Jack”.
Upon our
arrival it was all hugs, smiles and they were ready to go out for pizza and
chicken and chips, I could not disappoint them so we loaded back into the car
and went into town.
Mary let me
know as I walked in the door she’d been accepted into university and Tanja my
former American roommate had offered to pay for her first semester. I was so
happy for Mary, she’s a bright girl and deserves so much more of a future than
being my “house girl” as her position is commonly referred to here…I preferred
to call her my House Manager, because really she ran the show. And the term
“house girl” makes my skin crawl.
I was sad
for myself, I’d no longer have someone who had a good rapport with the boys,
could help me around the house and stay with them when I’m in Kampala working
late or traveling outside of the country. I quickly knew I was going to have to
make some hard decisions before the next term, which starts on September 8th.
I made the
excruciating decision to put the two younger boys into boarding school with the
two older boys. Let’s face it being a parent is hard. Being a single parent is harder. Being a single parent for the
first time in your life to four children who are 6-13 years old few people would make that choice but so far I'd make that decision over and over every day for the rest of my life.
Being
a parent in a developing country, where you can’t just throw them in the car,
run them thru the drive thru or order pizza, what do you mean I have to cook
these kids three meals a day? Oh and their laundry has to be done by hand
because that’s how most people do it here. Oh right and run a non-profit. And
travel back to the US to make money because you haven’t quite gotten the hang
of raising enough money to collect a salary from your non-profit that you go
back to your old career to make money. Most of the money that you make goes right back into those kids that you love so much and
the whole reason really why you moved here is to be in their life, yeah now
they are going to be tucked a way in a boarding school while you’re just down
the road…hanging out by yourself. yes I cried making this decision, the one side of my brain tried to search for ways on how I could make it work, keeping them home, but knowing there was just no way I could move The Bernie Project along, go back to the US to work and keep some semblance of stability and safety for my boys. Boarding school was the right and hardest decision.
Their new school isn’t like their former
school. Their old school I could scoop them up on Wednesday and take them
swimming if I wanted to, or take them out of class for 3 weeks. No one would
have cared. Their new school, it’s real with rules. Sure I can go visit them,
but not like every day or even every weekend.
I cried to
Jack. I mean I really cried. It’s not the decision I wanted to make, but it’s
for the best. Mahadi seems so little to be sending away to boarding school,
where he will have to make his own bed, do his own wash, hopefully the matron
will remind him to brush his teeth before he goes to bed. Michael is so
sensitive, little mama’s boy, he’s been under my feet since I stepped back in
the door. He can’t get enough attention from me. But he’s struggling to catch
up in P3 and being in boarding means he will hopefully improve. When I told the
boys they were going to boarding school they were more ok with it than I
expected. Last term Mahadi wanted to go but that was just because the big boys
had suitcases and there were snacks
inside. September 7th is going to be a hard day for me, I’m going to
need big sunglasses and a painted on smile and try not to boohoo all over the teachers
and matrons “who is this mzungu mom who can’t keep it together, it’s just boarding
school woman, not the army or outer space”.
To most
Ugandans, boarding school is a way of life and many will tell you it’s the best
thing for a child, where they learn manners and responsibility, etc.
I’m trying
to look on the bright side for myself. I’ll be able to devote more time to
developing the new initiatives in my head. Maybe meet some new people. Maybe
see more of Uganda and Africa. Figure out how to make money without having to
leave the country so much. Maybe learn some new recipes before the boys come
back home for the holidays or maybe I’ll just sit on my couch and eat corn
flakes.
I didn’t
feel I could find someone the boys would like and I would trust in the next 6
weeks to stay with the boys for another 8 weeks as I head out of the country
again for work in October and November.
I’m
cherishing these next two weeks while all four are home for the holidays.
Trying to be patient. Trying to say yes as much as I can without spoiling them.
Figuring out how to make pasta and rice 25 different ways between now and then, so they can keep telling me my food is "Awesome"...that's how low their bar for food has been set, when my food is deemed "Awesome". Finding some time to have fun but also preparing to repack the big boys for
boarding and shop for the little boys for boarding.
Two weeks
ago I thought my weekly blog would be about life with two little boys in my
house and what it’s like to be a mom in Uganda…now it might just be my cooking
failures and photos of me sitting on the couch eating cornflakes.