Saturday, June 11

Today we have planned a trip to Laura beach with our birthmother and her kids. At least, that's the plan we offered through Claudia, who had given us a soft confirmation for “11AM or 1PM or something” on Thursday, but we haven't heard anything more since.

I woke up with Grace for her 2AM clean-and-feed. She wasn't quite happy when she alerted me to her needs, and fussed more than usual during the clean, but settled right down and fell back to sleep while being fed. After, since it was about 9:30AM in Minnesota, I thought to check-in with work to see how things are going.

I was on-line for an hour, chatting with Angelo about twitter feeds and shortened URLs and other things going on in the project back home. I was starting to get tired, and he was going to take a coffee-run break (there's free-flowing coffee in the “services” room, but it's a little better in the cafeteria on the first floor, plus it's a nice leg-stretch), so I used the excuse to turn back in.

Just a couple hours later, at 5AM, I was up with Grace again. She wanted to stay awake a little more this time, so we watched the sunrise from our perch on the sofa. Well, not so much the sunrise as the sky brighten. Shortly after, she fell asleep again, so I tucked in for another hour or two of sleep myself.

We took a quick breakfast at the hotel restaurant. Still not feeling totally tip-top, I opted for the tummy friendly pancakes. While we were waiting, we got a call from the soon-to-be departing family. They had purchased a walker or jumper or some kind of seat for their boy, and they thought the other mother would like it. I'm not sure why they texted us about grabbing it (maybe 'cause we have the car), but we said we'd happily run and get it. They were planning on leaving with the hotel shuttle at noon to make their 2:40PM flight. I texted the other mother here, and she was excited to be able to go say her farewells. We hadn't been served our food yet (it takes a while), so she had time to get ready. While we waited, I texted Claudia, from whom we still hadn't received confirmation of our picnic, that we were quickly visiting the other family before they left, and might be a little late. We got our food, snarfed it down, and gathered her and our traveling things.

We made good time to the other end of “downtown,” and found mom and boys finishing up some packing. Dad had gone in search of their birthmother, who had been staying with relatives in the next neighborhood counter-clockwise on the island. They hadn't been able to reach her by phone. We had learned from Grace's bubu that our birthmother liked to wander and visit, and apparently so does theirs.

We heard the story about their encounter with Andrew, including how upset he was last night about the numerous calls, especially the one to his wife about the visas. While he was apparently rather upset Friday night, he was friendly and professional on Saturday morning. They met at the office, did the paper swap, and went their separate ways with the appropriate well-wishes.

Redacted a bit...wasn't my story, and read wrong it looks like a rant against the embassy or personnel; never my intent.

I'm hopeful, as I said, that either our package arrives in a more convenient timing, or that we're not pressed by need or desire (or homesickness) to require a very fast turn-around when our package finally returns.

Back to the hotel and the visit to the departing family...

As the moms were chatting and debating all of that embassy stuff (the opinions expressed above are mine, but potentially influenced by that discussion, just for the record), the other dad arrived with a couple of their adopted son's siblings in tow. Birthmother was not to be found, but the kids were there and apparently desired to say some farewells. The kids were given some packages and snacks and allowed to play with their brother for a while. We packed some things to take to their home, and dad and the kids and I set off to deliver the bundles. When we arrived at their home, the birthmother was there, and excitedly joined in a return to the hotel for a farewell.

Since the television was still out this morning, the other adopting mother from our hotel had decided to go with us to Laura beach. Since her birthmother lives nearer to the RRE, she called to invite her, too, and she met us at the hotel to go with us from there. We thought this would be not only fun for everyone to have a little get together, but also offer an opportunity to maybe establish another relationship with a potential translator, as she speaks English well, as well as Marshallese, and could in larger family-only settings help us chat with our birthmother.

During the visit and driving around, we got a phone call from Claudia. Actually we got a few, as the first one often doesn't take. There was a little confusion as she thought we were leaving, and then thought maybe the other birthmother from our hotel. Evidently Claudia hadn't had much contact with the other family during their visit; I guess that's par for the course when communications aren't hampered by language barriers. We straightened out what was happening both with the departure, and with the picnic.

Claudia lives on the far side of the airport and asked if we could drive everyone that far, and she'd meet us there, and then we'd divide into two vehicles and continue the trip a little more comfortably. There was some confusion because we weren't planning on going to the airport, and it finally dawned on me that, of course, we would be passing the airport.

We stayed just a little longer, saying our good-byes, and left them to their family farewells and final packings. It was about an hour before their shuttle would be leaving for the airport.

We waited a little for the other birthmother to arrive, and once we found her, we all jumped in the car. While we were driving, we got another call from Claudia, who said she couldn't reach our birthmother by phone to explain the plan, so she would be coming to our area to find her, and we'd meet at the hotel and caravan from there. We returned to the hotel to finish prepping for the picnic. I loaded the things into the trunk, and settled in for a little cool-down and to wait for the other beach-goers.

The television service had returned, so we turned it on, and like magic, got a call from Claudia saying that she'd found everyone and was on her way to the hotel. We grabbed the other pair of moms from the other hotel room and met in the parking lot. We had a quick conversation on the stairs and agreed that it might be good for Claire to go with Claudia and the others, as both an opportunity to share Grace with birthmother, but also as a potential to get some chat time on the hour or so drive to the beach. This apparently jibed with Claudia's idea, as they were discussing how to divide the cars so mom and Grace could spend the time together. They had an idea of putting all of our little family in our car, though, losing the ability to translate, but they liked our idea, and so we put Claire in Claudia's car with our birthmother and her other girls, and another woman who was tagging along with Claudia. Our car had the other mom from the hotel and her birthmother, who sat together in the back seat to share in tending duties, while I drive, chauffeur-style.

Before too long, the other mother in the car with me realized she'd forgotten to pack any diapers. We suggested we could share, as we had packed what we hoped was more than enough, but since her son is about two months older, we worried they wouldn't fit. As we were passing a Payless, we pulled in and she bought a small pack. While we waited for her to complete her transaction, Claire came over from the other car to check-in. She lamented that the plan wasn't working so well as everyone was quiet, with most of them sleeping, Grace and the other girls, and our birthmother included. Better than crying and fussing, I guess.

As we approached the airport, we realized it wasn't quite 1PM yet, and thought maybe Claudia might like to give a CAA send-off to the departing family. She considered maybe they would be past the point in the airport to be able to visit, but agreed the pause in travel was worth the time to check. They were just inside the airport, and did have time to chat a little. Our car, with sleeping child, just waited outside the airport. After a few minutes of visiting, they returned, and we continued to the far side of the island.

The whole island is about thirty miles long, from the far counter-clockwise end, Rita, to the far clockwise end, Laura. Delap, the area we're in, is considered near the clockwise end of “downtown,” and is probably twenty miles from Laura. The speed limit on the island is 25MPH, but there are many speed bumps that require near stopping to cross, as well as pedestrians and traffic, so the journey takes about an hour even without stopping along the way.

We made it to the beach, and found a spot. All of the little picnic areas (there are a half-dozen or so) were occupied, but the one at the end just had a couple of girls at one end of a long picnic table. Claudia suggested that they' share with us, as is the island way. They did, without reservation. We set up on the the other end of the table, to not impose on the game they were playing, and everyone took a turn thanking them, in English and Marshallese. After we got settled in and started chatting a bit, the girls we joined said they were going for a hike on the beach and asked if we could watch their bags. We said “certainly,” and thanked them again for sharing the table.

It was very windy, so I set up the little grill on the leeward side of a big tree next to the table, and started the charcoal cooking. As soon as it started, I put the can of beans on, as they seem to take forever on the grill, and especially with the wind, even blocked as it was, it would probably take a little longer on the beach.

After we got everything unpacked and the fire started, most of the Marshallese women got back into Claudia's car for a quick trip to someone's home in Laura for a better bathroom experience than they thought would be had at the beach. I didn't think anything of it at first, but then realized that we had just lost all of our translators. Our birthmother and her girls had stayed with us, so it was three Marshallese-speaking and three English-speaking and two infants that remained.

The girls were having fun playing with Grace, and we fiddled with the grill and preparing other food. We noticed the beach was practically polluted with hermit crabs. Some of the tiniest I'd seen; at first I thought an ant was for some reason tugging a tiny shell, but when I looked closer, it was indeed a millimeters-long crab. The shell was so tiny that it rocked in the wind as I tried to hold it, the crab undeterred by being handled, kept popping out to try to crawl off my hand, buffeted by the wind. Watching the ground more carefully, there were dozens of them around the area, including trapped behind the grill, between it and the tree. I pulled the grill away from the tree a little more, to be sure not to cook the ones taking refuge on the tree-side.

After our momentary amusement with the crabs, we put out some grapes and cut apples, and after some gesturing got the girls to take some. We also offered juice in bags (like soft boxes, I guess), but they weren't as well accepted. After the coals were good and hot, I put the dogs on the grill, hopeful that the other women would return before they were done. The dogs finished first.

We piled food onto serving plates and set them out for everyone to take, along with opened bags of chips and condiments. We gestured as best we could that they should take some, but while smiling and signaling “yes” by raising eyebrows, they didn't partake.

The English-speakers lamented the missing translators and hoped to just lead by example, and made some plates to eat for ourselves, gesturing and offering again. It'd been nearly an hour since the other women left, and we started worrying that they might not return.

The other adopting mother expressed relief that she'd kept her son, as her birthmother at first wanted to take him when they left. Not for any kind of fear that something would happen, really, but just because they'd been gone for so long. About that same time, her birthmother called, saying she'd been separated from Claudia. We were a little concerned as we couldn't even set out to try to find her as we had no points of reference for the little town, which actually has a couple roads in it.

As we were lamenting this, one of the girls returned from their beach walk. I sheepishly asked if she by chance spoke Marshallese. I figured she spoke English as she'd asked us to watch their bags. She said she did, so I explained briefly that we had been stranded by the other women, who were in part our translators, and that we spoke so little Marshallese as to be useless, and that our birthmother didn't speak any English, either. I also said that we'd been trying to invite them to participate in our picnic, but they seemed uncertain that was the thing to do. She conveyed our invitation, and they dove right in.

Melanie (I'm guessing at that spelling) joined in a pair of conversations, with us and with our guests, and did a little translating, but we didn't want to impose, so we left the conversation a little waning and awkward, beyond pleasantries and invitations to partake. She confirmed for us that Marshallese children like hotdogs as much as American children, and that our other choices were in line with what they might have, too.

Chatting more with Melanie, we learned that she's a teacher on the island, originally from Michigan. Funny enough, upon hearing that, separately, Claire and I both asked “upper or lower?” She said “both,” to which I said she probably started “lower” then, as the youpers seem to have a stronger geographic pride than the lowers. She told us she had originally arrived to the island as a missionary, with the Mormons we learned later, and for those interested in such things. She had returned as a teacher with the World Teach organization, but was now just a teacher at the Co-Op school, teaching elementary-age kids English and math and such.

After the girls had some food, the other women returned, all apologies. In addition to finding a cleaner restroom, they stopped for lunch, too. Evidently we hadn't made clear our intent before they left to indulge in an American-style weekend grill-out. Had we had more definite commitment and preparation (and translation), we might have been able to be a little more clear, and possibly more accommodating of any of their tastes or preferences.  It seemed the women weren't as into the hotdogs, and had some beans and rice while they were away, possibly at their friend's house, since it was probably lunch-time there, too.

Melanie's sister (whose name I'm not sure either of us got; I think she may have thought Melanie mentioned it, or maybe she said it and either or both of us missed it—if you find this, Melanie or her sister, accept our apologies for not catching your name) returned from looking for glass on the beach, and joined in the conversation, too. She was visiting Melanie, and like us spoke no useful Marshallese. She's evidently originally from Utah, but now resides “in Maryland, or more accurately D.C.,” as she said. We shared with her some of our laments with the language barrier, and praised Melanie for helping us out. They joined in eating some of our lunch. We learned they had some shy companions hiding in their car, to whom we also extended the invitation to eat. They didn't join us, so the girls took them some food, and returned their appreciation.

We chatted about our different and similar experiences on the island. Melanie had also seen Lañinbwil's Gift, as well as its two predecessors, so we filled her sister in on that, and she filled some of the gaps and culture references that I could recall and ask about. The good-versus-evil struggle had been set up in the previous movies, although you didn't need to really know that to enjoy this third film, as I did. She agreed that the scariest part of the movie was the introduction with the women. We also thought that while the demonizing that happened was mostly on the scale of annoying, at least from a U.S. perspective, it was comforting that those woes were validly demonizing to Marshallese youth. Better that a bit of jealousy and showing off was the pinnacle of teenage trouble than the stuff shown in American films. Of course, she pointed out, many if not most Marshallese teens had seen American movies, at least on TV or DVD.

We wrapped up our visit, thanking our incidental translators, and the other women who were with us. Since Claudia lived so much closer to Laura than the airport, I offered that if everyone would be comfortable, we could drive the birth-families home, so she wouldn't have to make that trek. She confirmed that everyone would fit and be fine with the journey, and we set out. Probably fifteen minutes or so into the travels, Claudia, who had ended up behind us despite leaving the beach first, pulled off where Claire said she'd pointed out her house was on the way in. I felt better that we didn't take her whole day, even though I was a little disappointed that she had disappeared for so long, and didn't get the gist of our invitation to begin with. We had actually invited her to bring her kids, too.

The ride back to the downtown area was mostly uneventful. There were a few bigger bumps with a fuller car, which caused a little giggling as the girls bounced around in the back seat. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, and after just a short while I started recognizing what would be rougher road sooner, an the ride got a little more smooth. Our birthmothers chatted just a little, and when inquired, the other birthmother happily translated for our birthmother.

I suggested we drop our birthmother off first, not to get rid of her, but because it would be a longer (and untranslated) journey in a more crowded car for her to go all the way to the other end and back. Everyone thought that was a fine idea. After a missed turn and a couple u-turns, we got into the alleyway to their house. It's literally across the street from our hotel, behind the Best Hardware store there. A couple lumpy puddles and tight turns, and an excited “stop here,” and we were there.

We have a trip planned for Tuesday, and we weren't invited in, so we stood out in the alley as our birthmother shared Grace with everyone who came and chattered with them. About fifteen people came out of it or from around the sides, to visit as we pulled up. Most of them were children, but a handful were young adults. One of the older boys was pointed out to us, and hugged, by our birthmother, and I think she tried to tell us he was her brother. Everyone smiled and some waved at us, but no one engaged us beyond that.

We had received a copy of our birthmother's home-study equivalent from Gordon, to help us understand, at least from paper, a little where she was coming from. Really, though, it's where bubu was coming from, as our birthmother is from an outer island, having lived with her father's family. Once we leave, she has plans to return to live with them, on a different outer island.

The study we got told us it was a fairly typical one-room home, with a kitchen set along one wall. No furniture was described, and from what we understand through other conversations, everyone sleeps piled together on the floor. It's no doubt the reason that without fail they kick off their shoes when entering our hotel room, even though we don't (sloppy Americans that we are), and we sleep in the bed and sit on the provided furniture.

Since we only saw it from the outside, we got a good feel for the size of the place, but not much more. It's a green building, with walls that seem in good repair. It looks to be a fairly typical box construction, with wood walls and the common corrugated metal roof. There was an open door in the middle of the wall facing us, with a window to one side, behind which remained hidden a dozen curious eyes. One thing that stood out was a lack of any kind of screen on the window. There was that kind of horizontal blind window (instead of the solid, half-opening window like we have at home), so they could close it against the elements, but there wasn't anything covering it to stop bugs. Of course, the door was wide open anyway, and I didn't spy that the corrugated roof was necessarily sealed against the walls, nor could I detect a ceiling, so perhaps a screen would have been totally superfluous.

There was a big tree to the front and left, if standing in the doorway, and about three neighboring houses abutted this one in a little block. A moment of “wow, people do live like this” hit me. Of course, I'd seen the homes along the road, and in other places and countries, and a lot on television, but hadn't actually been involved with anyone at the homes. Our agency warned us that once you see some of the conditions, you'll want to rescue everyone. I'm trying to remember that while perhaps not ideal, it is normal and since a lot of what I see is that family is more important than the things around them, perhaps there isn't a sense of how this isn't (our) ideal situation.

There were two things that I did see that made me cringe a little. The first was that there's a bit of litter strewn into corners, including a big rusted out car skeleton on which most of the older boys were perched. The other was a dead cat in the middle of the alley (which I'd seen as we pulled in and had tried to be careful not to hit. Both of these seemed to contribute to the volume of flies in the area, evidenced by the swarm that fled the cat as someone happened too close to it. I noticed the kids would look at it, and be careful not to step directly on it, but they didn't really avoid it, and obviously it didn't bother anyone else enough to dispose of it.

After a few minutes of flurried activity as everyone greeted and pet Grace a little (which given the other boy's introduction with scabies made me just a touch apprehensive, but since she nor the others seemed infected, I wasn't too put off), the visit started winding down. We pulled a couple bags of stuff for the kids, like the left-over drinks and such, and were directed where to turn around so we could drive out. I think when we return on Tuesday, we'll probably hike back there rather than trap someone or risk being trapped. It's essentially a two-block walk across the street.

We drove to the Rita area, farther counter-clockwise than we'd been yet. The neighborhood we pulled into was much the same, sans dead cat. The homes in that neighborhood were half wood and half cinderblock. Not each home, mind you, but half of them were one, and the other half, well, the other. A bunch of kids flocked out to greet the boy and mothers, and we stood out of the car and participated in the smiles and waves. The other adopting mother had been to their home a few times, and had a bag of candy to give to one of the women who quickly handed it out to the kids. After the excitement, we bid our farewells and made it back out to the main road and back to the hotel.

Gritty from the day at the beach and the drives across the country, we showered and bathed Grace, and settled into loungewear. We decided we weren't hungry enough to go to the restaurant, so we snacked on picnic leftovers. Once Grace was asleep, we turned on a couple episodes of The Big Bang Theory. While we love the show and watch it when we can, we'd forgotten how funny it was from the start, and were pleasantly reminded as we rejoined the gang from the pilot and second episode before turning in.