Tuesday, July 5

Happy Independence Day, to those on the other side of the date line! Here it's already Tuesday, but we realized that in the U.S., it's only Monday, and so our hopes for help from home are likely postponed another day.

We started out with a light breakfast of Marshallese donuts and coffee. I got the donuts from the restaurant downstairs. They make them fresh, but are more like giant donut holes than the donut rings we'd have at home. They're also pretty dense, but are nearly as tasty, and go well with coffee. I got three orders, because we thought our birthmother would be visiting too early to run for breakfast, and we wanted extras to offer, so we wouldn't be rude and eat in front of our guests.

Island time kicked in, and our birthmother, daughters, sister Esther, and a friend of Esther's arrived. Shortly after, brother Steven also arrived. We hung around in the room for a little bit, and then housekeeping knocked on the door. We wanted the room cleaned, so we suggested maybe an early lunch, and everyone agreed. Somewhere between the room and restaurant, Steven disappeared.

We ate a bit of lunch, and spent a little time poking fun at Esther and her friend, who's name we later learned is Christine. We returned to the room, and as if he was watching, shortly after, Steven arrived again. We found the movie channel was back, so they tuned in Are We Done Yet, a slight rip-off of The Money Pit with Ice Cube and family romping through a total remodel of the new family home they purchased.

Part way through the movie, Claire and I excused ourselves to the other room to make some calls about our visa. We'd planned to try to get some information from either the Manila or Majuro embassy regarding the movement of our visa. It's been a whole week since the other mother left, and we still haven't heard anything about ours.

We first added some credits to Skype, which we had planned to use to call home if we found it necessary, but given the timezone shift, our Internet speed, and just the general everything seems OK at home, we haven't used it yet. We then added the Manila embassy numnber as a Skype contact, and started calling.

Our first two attempts reached a voice mail alert that we listened through entirely on the second try, until it looped over to the beginning. It took another call to reach a person who suggested that maybe the group we were looking for were out to lunch, and we should call back after 1PM Philippines time, which was about an hour away. Nice lunch, fellas. We thanked the kind person and resolved to try again after a while.

We then tried calling the Majuro embassy. It was just after 4PM locally, so we thought we might get a call in before the embassy ended their business day. The gal at the embassy number we have answered. We asked for Daisy, the contact we're supposed to use, but learned she “wasn't in yet today.” Odd, since they were probably closing soon, but we figured that was just weird phrasing to say she was out today. We then asked for Andrew directly, as he's the consular officer we're dealing with, but he wasn't in, either. We then asked for anyone who might be able to help with a question about the status of our visa.

We were directed to a friendly enough guy, who asked who I was, probably for call logging or to be sure I was someone related to the visa. He then told me he didn't know about the visas or have access to any visa-related information, and that everyone in that group had left for the day, to attend the 4th of July celebration. I thanked the kind guy and rang off.

Perhaps unjustly, we crabbed and complained to each other that the embassy here was slacking. Sure, part of it was that we had our hopes up that our package would be on the heels of the other family's visa, but at the very least we'd hoped to hear that someone had checked on it after the long weekend. Essentially the embassy here hadn't been in the office since Thursday, and that's a lot of time for stuff to happen.

Frustrated, I stewed still in the other room from our guests. I'd peeked in on them after our failed calls, and many of them had fallen asleep. They'd turned off the lights and pulled the curtains, so it was dark in the room, except for the glow of the television, which was still set for about as loud as it would go. We had Grace in the room with us, so the volume wasn't hitting her directly anyway.

An hour later we tried Manila again. The connection failed a half-dozen times, after connecting to the embassy and accepting the extension, since I knew it. The extension would sometimes ring, and sometimes not, but always disconnect. Finally, it rang. It kept ringing. For more than two minutes it rang. I tried again, and a kind woman answered the phone.

I explained that I was seeking information regarding a visa application for an adoption that we'd submitted in early June. The woman was stuck because we didn't have a case number, and she evidently didn't have the facilities to look us up by name. She put us on hold for a minute or so, and the next lady jumped right in to help us identify the right forms to submit.

She asked if we had this form and that form and if we'd submitted the other one, too. We had, of course. She then suggested that now we need to adopt a child. I said that we had done that already, too. She paused, and for the first time asked the purpose of my call. I explained who I was, and that we were trying to gather information about our visa, which we had received information stating it was approved on 22 June. She said she'd need the case number, which I said we didn't have. I then repeated my name, which she either didn't get from the first lady or didn't hear when I introduced myself at the beginning of talking to her.

Clicked into the right mindset, and hearing my name again, she responded with “oh, I'm familiar with that case.” She paused for a moment as she confirmed her recollection and told us it had been sent to Majuro on 1 July, and provided us with the DHL tracking number. I thanked her and Claire thanked her, and we rang off and immediately checked to see where the package was.

Our visa had been in Guam all day. It was so close. Guam, as I've mentioned, is apparently the weak link in the DHL chain. They seem to have more reliable service from Manila to Guam, and parts in between, including its trek through Hong Kong and Seoul. Once it reaches Guam, it's up to Continental to give them space to Majuro. We were just happy to know it had passed through the next milestone.

There's a chance that the package could arrive and be processed and delivered in time for us to make our current flight tomorrow. We're not exactly sure of the delivery patterns, nor did we have information indicating it had left Guam yet. Based on the other mother's tracking we did when her package left Manila, there was one more status beyond the one that ours had achieved.

Still, our visa had left Manila and was on its way! We crabbed a little more that we hadn't heard about this movement from the embassy here, but we let the good of movement wash over the bad of no information.

We rejoined our birth-family, who were watching Barbershop. A few of the nappers had awaken, and one of the lights had been illuminated. We settled in and watched a few minutes before we got a text from the visiting family saying that the party had started.

The visiting family was hosting a birthday party for their little boy and a cousin of his, both of whom turned three today. The visiting family had arranged for the facility, and their birth-family was providing all of the food and the rest of the party stuff. They had invited us, and our birth-family, to join in, especially since it was happening in the picnic area by the lagoon at our hotel.

We told the awake members of our birth-family about the text, and they said they were ready to head down. Bertha was still asleep, so I had said I'd stay and wait for her. It was noted that she's kind of afraid of me, so I suggested that one or both of the other girls could stay, too, and help me coax Bertha downstairs. While we discussed this, Bertha woke up, and the problem solved.

We made our way down to the picnic area, and found the visiting mother. Her husband and son were running around with the other kids. Along the way, we lost Steven, but the rest of us sat at the table in the middle of the area, as directed by the other mother.

We gave Destiny our digital camera, a little to the chagrin of our birthmother. It turns out she's got quite an eye for the photographs. It's very funny to watch her, as she strikes a pose like photographers do, at least on television shows for high-end model shoots; you know, the kind in police dramas...

We waited quite a while for the party to actually get started. People slowly started trickling in. Around the grill at the big tree in the area, the gals who were tending the food started assembling the ubiquitous “plates,” like we'd had at the BBQ place. They must have been preparing them for every expected guest, as they had built quite a wall of plates before anything else happened.

Claire had to run a few times with Grace to the room, for bottles or diapers, or more of the same. On one run, she returned with a couple cans of soda for our birthmother and her girls to share.

Finally, enough people had arrived, and the food assembled in enough quantity to get things started.

An elder gentleman got up and said some things in Marshallese. It was a bit hard to hear him, as he was soft-spoken, and the wind rustled the coconut tree leaves, and the surf washed on the shore, and every now and again a chorus of “shush” would go out to try to quiet the kids who never really stopped running around. He said some things in English, too, which were still hard to hear, but easier to understand. He was welcoming everyone, and thanking the visiting family for hosting the event, and wishing the guests well, especially the honored guests, the birthday kids.

Another elder gentleman got up and made similar remarks, and then called the crowd to prayer. He prayed for health and long life and good fortune and such, for the kids, and their families, and the guests in attendance, and their families not in attendance.

Then the kids all queued up to get plates. We sat at our table and remarked how orderly it all was, and how despite their energy and enthusiasm, the kids all queued in a pretty straight line, and there wasn't any pushing or shoving. While we watched, some plates were brought to our table, for the visiting family, and us, and our birthmother. They told us that we didn't have to wait because we're with the birthday boy.

At first we thought they'd brought too much, as each person was given two styrofoam containers of food. One, it turned out, contained some fish dish, some ribs, and some chicken. The other contained some rice and a small salad and a big slice of ma (breadfruit).

I went to fetch some sodas from around the tree. We'd seen kids coming out with Coke or Pepsi. The other mother was feeling a bit nauseated, and thought a bout of caffeine would help. Plus we were all quite thirsty from the wait in the waning heat.

I'd barely returned with the sodas when another gentleman greeted the crowd. He apologized for not being able to stay, noting he had another birthday party to get to. He did promise to sing a song, though. They were setting up an electric keyboard, and it seemed to be a bit of a hunt for a stable surface and an outlet. While he got set up, we started trying to eat a little bit.

I bit into a bit of the fish, found it was raw, just as Claire was warning me of the same. I'm not a fan of the raw fish, but just as much as that surprised me, the poke in the tongue and roof of the mouth of the little bone turned me off the raw fish. I picked at the big piece of chicken a little bit, and pulled some of the meat off one of the ribs. They like their ribs a bit more bone than we do in the U.S., it seems. I'm sure the meat is used in other meals, and it doesn't seem like the bone (or marrow) is consumed itself (except by the dogs, if any happen to be around to benefit). Still, what was there was tasty.

I hadn't even started really digging into what was there, other than the effort on the one rib, and I hadn't opened the other plate, except to peek inside, when the singing looked to be ready. A crowd had formed behind the guy, and it seemed a choir was going to be singing back-up. I dug out the video camera, put down my food, and set in trying to record the singing through the bobbing heads and moving crowd.

The singing was quite festive, as one would hope for a child's birthday party. It was all in Marshallese, so some of us only got to enjoy the energy and melody, and not so much the lyrics. It turned out that the guy wasn't just going to sing a song, like he'd said, but a set of songs, which was all the better.

During one of the songs, a woman from the table next to us started throwing things at the guy, and ultimately the whole choir. She was throwing small bags of chips and Cheetos, and wrapped candy. Sometimes she was throwing really viciously, as if trying to get the bags to burst on impact. Occasionally one of the singers would throw a bag of chips back at her, or at someone else in the choir or crowd. When candy was thrown, the singers would stoop to pick it up, but it was rarely thrown back.

During a break between a few songs, the visiting family was told that the procession was going to start. The visiting mother asked if I could take some photographs of them while it happened. I agreed and gave Claire the video camera. I think the video camera ran out of time, though, before the procession finished; I hadn't stopped filming between the songs, not knowing when they'd start with the next one, and each song was rather long, as they were at the talent show previously.

Just before the procession started, an elder woman, who had been sitting with the elder men who made speeches to start the event, visited our table and gave Claire and I some handicrafts. She put a woven tie around my fat head, with a little effort, and gave Claire an ornate necklace and earrings. After, she gave the other family some things, and I think that signaled the start of the procession.

The choir started bringing gifts to the birthday kids. The visiting boy got handicrafts, while his cousin mostly received cash gifts. We discussed this amongst ourselves after, and guessed that either there was a cultural reason for doing it, like some odd gender thing as the cousin is a girl, or that the visiting family was, well, visiting. We also speculated that perhaps there was awareness that the visiting family was a little more affluent, and the cash was more appropriate for the little girl. She did get some handicrafts, but not of the type or volume as the visiting boy.

The choir didn't even break their song as they brought things. They put necklaces and ties on dad and son. They put necklaces and headbands and gave earrings to mom. They handed dad and son woven baskets and picture frames and ornaments. He did get a few cash gifts, too. One of the last women brought a giant mat, all rolled up, of course.

At the end of the procession, the singing was over, and it was time for the cake. We hadn't even really eaten any food, but the festivities were overwhelming, and I wasn't feeling hungry at all.

There was much excitement as they tried lighting candles in the shoreside breeze. Finally, enough people gathered around to make a windbreak, and the candles were lit, and then blown out by the birthday kids. It was a giant sheet cake, with a happy birthday greeting on it, and a photograph composited out of snapshots of the birthday kids and a couple of cartoon characters. Funny. After letting each of the kids make a cut in the cake, the others were told to queue up, which they did with the same speed and politeness as they had for the food plates.

It seems that for the most part, only the kids get the cake, and their accompanying grown-ups get to eat what the kids don't, or what the grown-up takes from the kid. They again brought a big plate over for our table, though, which we left for the birthday boy. Ultimately, dad and I did a good job of picking at it, as we didn't want to be rude and let the cake go to waste. There was so much of it, though, that we didn't really make a dent in what they gave. The cake was tasty; a chocolate cake, that reminded me of Hostess cupcakes without the filling. The frosting, though, had the same super-sweet filling feel to it.

After cake, the party wound down pretty fast. The guests started leaving. We stuck around for a while, with our birth-family, helping them get photographs with everyone they knew or who wanted one taken. I'd had their camera since the procession started, and had probably snapped a hundred shots of the gifts and cake and just people.

We offered our basically untouched plates to our birthmother, who casually nodded and did the eyebrow “yes.” I ran to the restaurant and asked for a couple of the to-go bags, which they happily provided, and it made packaging the plates much easier. They didn't want to go any earlier than they had to, because they were there to hang out with Grace and us. They did go, though, and we said our farewells to the birthday boy and parents, thanking them for including us in their wonderful party.