Contact

We finally decided on our game plan. We’re going to stick it out here in Arkalyk for the duration. No India, no beaches, no skiing in Almaty…. no two additional 15 hour train rides followed by more flights. What this also means is that we can start seeing Tuma every day. We have permission from the Orphanage for a daily visit until our official bonding time which is scheduled to begin on April 12 when we will have two – two hour visits a day. The other part of this plan is that Jaden and I will leave Lynne and Tuma after the initial court date (I am required to be here for the court date) and head home. The court date should be the last week of April, so we will be home pretty much on schedule, the first week of May. For Lynne, it will be another month with 2-3 weeks in Arkalyk (with Tuma living with her in the flat instead of the orphanage) and then 1-2 weeks in Almaty getting final paperwork and documents sorted out.

Yesterday (Sunday 3/25) was the first day we started seeing Tuma. Unfortunately, Lynne is pretty sick, and she can’t go to the orphanage. So Jaden and I went and had a crazy few hours. Tuma won’t stay alone with us (who can blame him) so after about 5 minutes of him crying in my arms, the caregivers allowed us to go downstairs with him to where a group of about 15 other kids between 2-4 are. The caregivers were “reading” to the kids and we were seated nearby like honored guests. The kids were very interested in us. After a few minutes of this, playtime started and all hell broke loose. The kids started running around, throwing things, and I got really engaged with a few of them. Once they saw me playing, a lot of them wanted to play with me…. But not Tuma. Tuma was off on his own, not interested in coming anywhere near me or Jaden, and I chose not to worry about it for that day. Jaden was playing like a madman with some of the bigger kids (probably 4 year olds that he was twice as big as) and they were really getting into it. I had to keep reminding Jaden to mellow out and be gentle as the kids wanted to play rough, but one push from Jaden and they would go flying. We left the orphanage and got at least a Paka (bye bye) from Tuma and knowing we’d be back the next day.

Today we made our first real contact. Lynne is still sick, really a bummer, and Jaden and I went to the orphanage ourselves again. Once again, they tried bringing in Tuma by himself, with one caregiver. I couldn’t believe it, these people deal with these kids every day, haven’t they figured out that they can’t just drop him with us and expect him to be ok with us? Or maybe they just don’t have the time to care. But they do seem to care. So after a few minutes and me pointing “downstairs” (we have no translator with us as we are not “officially here”) they tell us to come downstairs.

This time they put Tuma in a separate play room with Jaden and I, and a little girl, probably about 12 years old, who is likely a volunteer. She’s there to speak Russian to Tuma if I can’t get him to calm down. Amazingly, and for the first time, after about 1-2 minutes he stops crying and let’s me just snuggle him in my lap as we sit together on the floor. I massaged him for about 20 minutes and he just sat there watching Jaden and started to feel comfortable with us. Then we found a great toy for him, one of those ring stackers where he can just put the rings on the post, and he did that for about a half hour uninterrupted as Jaden and I watched and helped and even took a few pictures.

We have finally made a connection. I say finally, even though its only been 4 times that we have been with Tuma, but it seems like we’ve been trying for so long. I know we still have a very long way to go, and each day for awhile we will likely have to start from scratch with him. He seems like a real crier, more than the other kids. But most of the other kids in his group are older than him, so who knows what’s really going on. This might be his current nature, it could have something to do with us, it could be lots of different things. But today, once he calmed down, he was just a little baby boy, innocent and playful, nervous for sure, but obviously ready to become part of our family and we’re ready for him.

Peace,

Out,

Bruce

When a cold is not just a cold

So, I have spent the last 5 days with a horrible, nasty, no good, very bad cold. It started last Wednesday night, feeling a bit like a raspy throat, maybe a thickness in my sinuses. But by Thursday morning, it had picked up it’s pace, and was well under way. Unfortunately, Thursday was Naurez, the Kazakh New Year and Spring Festival, the biggest event of the year, and likely the ONLY event of our stay, in the sense of the world outside the orphanage. So, I dragged myself out of bed, against my own better judgment and that of my husband. I really wanted to someday be able to tell my son about this, to tell him everything I could absorb about the country of his birth, his culture, his history. I pulled something on, tried to eat a bit, and out we went. My grand plan was to hang out at the ‘square’ where the festivities were taking place for a bit, and then return to the flat to rest while everyone else went to Hassim’s flat for lunch. This half worked.

We walked to the square in a stream of people, flowing in from every corner of town. As we approached the square, I could hear music and a giant inflatable stage came into view, complete with one of those blow up dancey guys that gyrate above a stream of air. It was a bit surreal. Along the back there was a row of yurts constructed and sponsored by various businesses and organizations. Zhana, our coordinator (interim) led us to the first one. Outside stood the head doctor from the orphanage, dressed head to toe in fur. Let’s call it mink for the sake of the story. It sure looked impressive. As we waited our turn, one of the women staffing the yurt handed me a bowl of something liquid. It was hot, white, had some brown round things about the size of small marbles floating in it, and tasted a little like chicken broth. Well, from the one sip I was willing to take that’s what it tasted like. I carried it around for a few minutes, and found a place to set it down when no one was looking. Given that it appeared they were dumping the contents out and reusing the bowls, I neither wanted the germs that might be in it, nor wanted to add mine.

When we entered the yurt, there was a huge spread of food on several tables, meant to replicate a traditional Kazakh feast for Naurez. The walls were hung with carpets and tapestries, and several of the orphanage workers were dressed in traditional Kazakh costumes. There was about 6 square feet of standing room, so we took a few pictures, looked around for a minute, and left. For just a moment I was able to imagine what life here must have been like only a hundred years ago, when the 3 Hordes roamed the Steppes, with their horses, their families, and their homes. That was worth getting out of bed for.

We continued to move down the row of Yurts, each slightly different, set up with costumed guards out front, dancing children, singing, and a ‘spring tree’, upon which people took turns tying colorful ribbons to the barren branches, along with a wish. I am sure you can all imagine what we wished for. We also watched some traditional games being played- relay races, tug-of-war, arm wrestling. Every time we tried to move on to the next thing, Jaden would complain that he didn’t feel like he had enough time to see everything. I knew how he felt. There were boys and girls doing traditional dances on the stage, a woman singing, and a man playing the dobro, the classic instrument of Kazakhstan, as well as much of Asia and the Middle East. I wished I could have seen this type of performance in a more intimate setting, but the people watching made it all worth it.

There were many, many women in fur- fur coats, fur hats, fur boots, you name it. It was the style du jour for the matronly set. The younger girls here are very interested in European fashion, but it definitely has it’s own twist. Galina, our translator, was wearing boots with a 4 inch stiletto heel. Mind you the square was covered in several inches of packed snow and ice. But the most interesting people watching came from the elderly people. Their faces were fascinating to me, their clothing representative of the changes they have seen in their lifetimes. Dental work here is rough. Gold teeth abound in those who can afford them, and for others, teeth are a luxury of the young. Most older people are missing many of their teeth, and you wonder how the few they have left, widely spaced as they are, can be of any use. The women often wore traditional headscarves, sometimes colorfully embroidered, sometimes under jacket hoods. They wore skirts and heavy shawls, and many walked stooped with the heaviness of the history they have witnessed in this land. Their faces are lined and weathered from years under the harsh sun here, and the old women walked arm in arm with daughters or grand-daughters. The men clustered together, sharing cigarettes and stories, laughing and drinking. I could have stayed and watched them all day. I tried to capture some of them on camera, but didn’t want to be overly invasive, and so mostly I have them only in my memory.

After we had seen most of what there was to see, suddenly (many things here happen suddenly) Zhana headed out to take care of some business and Galina and Shelly announced we were going to Shelly’s apartment. I thought I would walk along for a few minutes, and then head ‘home’ as it was only a couple of blocks away. I announced my plan part-way into the walk, and was very seriously told that I couldn’t walk home, it would be ‘too dangerous’. What? There were people everywhere, thousands of them. But Galina was emphatic in her insistence that ‘there were too many drunk men, and it wouldn’t be safe. We will call you a taxi.’ Huh. When we arrived at the apartment, we walked up 6 flights of stairs to the top floor. I thought when they said they would call a taxi it would be right away. And I was right, if ‘right away’ means 4 hours later. I laid down for a few minutes on the bed, really feeling I had been hit by a truck. But people kept popping in and out, and when everyone sat down to eat I felt I should make an effort. I sat with the group but could bring myself to eat the traditional dishes of horsemeat sausage and chopped fish salad (with bones mind you).

Vodka toasts were a main feature of the meal, pushed heavily by Zhana. They were very formal, going around the table, everyone expected to toast. Even Jaden decided to participate, asking me to speak for him: “I appreciate having this chance to have this experience, and to be able to adopt my brother here.” As it was unprompted, it was very sweet. Since Bruce was the only adult male at the table, I asked where the men were. This brought about much laughter, and only the mysterious answer ‘at home’. Yes, but WHY…. ? After the main part of the lunch, small bowls of nuts were brought out, and the chairs were pushed back for dancing. Hassim’s 6 year old daughter, Akbote (which means a baby white camel), put on her traditional costume and did some very smooth moves for a 6 year old. Then she changes costumes and did an Indian belly dance! Jaden was dazzled, as I have to say we all were. Then cake and ice cream and the omnipresent tea were brought out. Hassim’s step-mother was the hostess, and she did an Islamic blessing before we began dessert. We all cupped our hands in front of us, eyes closed while she spoke (well, I peeked). Then hands were brought to faces, together, and down in front of our chests. It struck me as pan-theologic really. (if that’s not a word, just go with it, OK? I am a little short on dictionaries and thesauruses over here). A gesture I have seen repeated many times, in synagogues, Buddhist temples, churches. I loved seeing that simple act repeated, in such a context as this.

Finally, finally, a taxi was called. You notice, I said called, not arrived. They said “10 minutes, taxi comes”. “Great,” I thought, I couldn’t wait to go to bed. “I’ll just put on my boots and coat and wait downstairs” I told them. “No, no,” I was assured it was ‘too dangerous.’ I waited. About 40 minutes later, we all headed downstairs. The children out front stared at us as we came out. The giggle and laugh when they see Bruce, Jaden and I. I can’t figure out what the thing is that the find so fascinating, but it’s definitely there. The taxi was waiting on the other side of the building. No one here seems to think twice about keeping a taxi waiting, for any length of time. We pile 5 of us into it, and came back to the flat. And except for a side trip to meet Habiba, our ‘official’ coordinator, it is here that I have been ever since.

Bruce and Jaden have started going to the orphanage once a day to visit with Tuma. I have started taking the antibiotics I requisitioned before we left, as this cold has turned into a sinus infection. They have gone for walks. I have tried to find alternatives for nose-blowing to the 220 grit that passes for toilet paper here. Our cook is wondering why we need to use so many paper napkins, I am sure. They are softer, but have all the absorbency of a piece of newsprint, so it’s a trade off recently. Bruce and Jaden found the outdoor market- yes, you read that right. They warn against ever eating fish here, and Bruce bought a pair of rubber waders for about $8 to use during mud season. I have mastered Sudoku, alternating between the couch and the bed. Central Asian viruses pack a mean wallop I have learned. I am determined to wrestle this one down before the week is out, but won’t make any promises before then. In the meantime, I will leave it to Bruce to describe how it is to spend time with our new son. Update coming soon. Next time you reach for a Kleenex, think of me….

PS- if you want to see more pictures related to any of this, check out the links to the albums on the right. Uploading photos via dial up is as ugly as it sounds, but we are doing our best to get what we can on there!

They Really Do Eat Horse Meat

Today (well, yesterday by now) is Naurez, the biggest holiday of the year. It’s a combination of celebrating Spring (although spring doesn’t come to Arkalyk for another month or so) and also the New Year (I have no idea how their calendar works, but I’m guessing it must be tied to the equinox and solstice).

We went to the big celebration in the town square today, it was very crowded and pretty cool. Lots of Kazakh music and dancing, food, private “sponsored” Yurts, and games including relay races, tug of war, arm wrestling, etc. After this we went to Hassim’s house, the local social worker and enjoyed a traditional holiday lunch with Zhana, our coordinator and Rustum, her 11 year old son, Galena, our translator, Hassim and Akbote, her 6 year old daughter, Shelly, the only other adoptive mom here at this time, and one other woman who’s name I didn’t catch. It was a very nice afternoon, everyone had a lot of fun.

We finally had our first Russian Vodka, many shots, but even that couldn’t get me to enjoy the horse meat that is the Kazakhstan specialty that they served. Yes, they really do eat horse meat and enjoy it. I tried it, Lynne and Jaden wouldn’t go near it. Maybe its just the concept, but I couldn’t do more than a fork-full. This was a sausage variety, it was salty and hard for me to stomach. Shelly has been here a few times and swears she loves horsemeat. All the more strange in that she says she used to be a vegan. After the main meal, there was a very short and simple Islamic prayer, then dancing. Hassim’s six year old daughter did some fantastic traditional dances in costume, really very cute. Then more vodka and dessert.

So anyway, we’re in a bit of a waiting period. We have not received permission to go back to the orphanage, and we are trying to decide if we want to get out of here for a few weeks to go somewhere, anywhere… and again – if we’re not going to stay straight through the bonding period, we don’t want to start visiting Tuma until April 12. We’re going to come to a decision, and hope the orphanage will as well, but that won’t happen until after the holiday – Sunday 3/25.


Other random thoughts from the trip so far:

When we walk around town, we get a lot of strange looks. Is it Lynne and Jaden’s blonde hair? Is it the fact that we are some of the very few people here wearing sunglasses? (its been very sunny) Is it just that our facial features are different than what they are used to? I don’t know what it is, but we get a lot of stares. On the other hand, I keep looking at all of the boys and men and wonder what my son will look like when he grows up. We think he’s all, or mostly, Kazakh, so I look into the faces of the Kazakh boys and men here and try to picture him in the future. I think about that all the time. I look at Jaden, and for sure, he doesn’t look much like me either (except his brown eyes), but he does look a lot like his beautiful mother. When I look at Tuma, I wonder about his future. Will he suffer from prejudice when he gets back to the States? Will he be the one getting stared at? Will our family get stared at because we have this son that doesn’t look like us? We’ll take on one of Jaden’s favorite phrases, “who cares!” if that happens. At least in Boulder, international adoption is so prevalent we probably won’t stick out too much.

Jaden has been such a trooper on this whole trip. He made a friend the first day with Zhana’s 9 year old son Darchon and he is simply going with the flow. This has to be hard for him, there’s just so little to do. But he’s happy playing games, doing some school work, playing with his new friend, and getting to spend a lot of time with Lynne and I. He says the funniest things. Some of the funniest lines will be posted on his blog soon, so check it out.

Its so hard to be 3 blocks from Tuma and not be visiting him. The orphanage is the only world he’s ever known, (he got there when he was 8 days old), so he is comfortable there. But the sooner we can get him out of there, the better. It feels so unfair to be celebrating Naurez today for example, and drinking and laughing, when he is trapped in that place without us.

This town is stuck in a time warp. Some of the people seem happy and fine with their existence, especially once you meet them, but walking around, we see so many blank stares and unhappy faces. There really is so little to do. We always see groups of older boys and men just standing around talking and smoking cigarettes. The women stand around and talk some as well, but it seems like they are busier shopping in the tiny grocery stores, preparing meals and doing housework all day. These people are 15 hours by train to the nearest city, and then a long flight to anywhere. Based on pay scales, taking a flight out of the country is only accessible to the top tier of the economy. I’m not sure how big that top tier is, but I assume very limited. So the people are pretty stuck here, and in many ways don’t seem to mind, because its where their family is, and it’s the only place they know. But it has to get wearing to have so few options for entertainment of any kind, have the government control your heating (and keeping it too hot!), and have the brutal weather that they have where winter lasts from about October through April, then mud season, than very hot from about June through August/September. Pretty much no Spring and no Fall. We’ve been lucky with the weather so far, the last few days have been sunny and nice. I think the worst of the cold days are beyond us.

The buildings are falling apart both inside and out. It doesn’t seem like there’s been any maintainance for a long time, and we don’t see any happening. On the outside, there are many broken windows, falling plaster and holes in walls. On the inside, leaky pipes, damaged floors and other things that will continue to get worse. Will anyone ever work on re-modeling apartments in this town? I don’t think so. More than half of the city was actually shut down about 12 years ago or so. How did they do that? Did people just get a knock on the door one day from a police officer saying they had to move by such and such a date? Lynne mentioned that perhaps once the buildings that people are living in begin to literally fall apart, people can abandon these and move back into the closed down neighborhoods. Not a bad idea…

Its mud season now (although no mud yet, just slush). Its been pretty warn, probably lower 40’s in the day and sunny. So the snow melts during the day and the streets become huge slushy messes. The cars (no SUV’s) just make their way around, almost floating at times. Then it freezes at night and everything gets icy again. Pretty much like spring skiing conditions, except there is no mountain, no grooming and no skis. Imagine the bottom of Vail (if you’ve been there in there in the spring) when it gets really slushy at the end of a late March day. So slushy you feel like you’re waterskiing to the base lodge. That’s what all the roads are like right now.

We’ve been very well taken care of. We have a cook, Barcha, who comes every day to cook and clean up. Three meals a day, good but not a lot of variety. Breakfast has been some kind of oatmeal every day (all varieties have been great), and either French toast, eggs or some other type of pancake type things. They drink tea at all meals, but I’m glad I brought 3 pounds of good coffee with me and a mini French press. That makes my mornings. Lunch and dinner always feature pasta and meat. Round pasta, long skinny pasta, short skinny pasta, with beef, with chicken, with meatballs. Soups are basically the same – pasta and chicken or pasta and beef. We recently asked for some fruits and vegetables and all of a sudden we have a bowl full of apples, oranges and bananas and a plate of dried apricots and raisins as well as a plate of cucumbers and tomatoes on the table. Bacha cleans up after every meal, and won’t let us help. We really couldn’t ask for people who are more caring or more committed to getting these kids adopted out of the orphanage than Habiba and her team of “sisters”. They have been very, very good to us, which is good, because we’re here for a long time…

That’s it for now, hopefully next time I post it will be to talk about Tuma.

Peace,

Out,

Bruce

Brief history of Kazakhstan

Here’s my loose and sketchy history of the region, just to bring you all up to a dangerous level of knowledge to parallel my own: The Kazakh tribes were directly descended from Genghis Khan, who rampaged through Asia in the 13th century. They were originally ‘tribed up’ with the Uzbeks, but a falling out and a plot of intrigue and murder led to their split. The Uzbeks took up a fairly sedentary agrarian lifestyle, while the Kazakhs remained nomadic. The Kazakhs eventually divided into three ‘hordes’. The Great Horde, the Middle Horde, and the Small or Lesser Horde. It was the usual tale of incursions and territorial battles until about 1918 when they accepted an offer from the Russians of ‘protection’. You guessed it, things don’t go swimmingly from there. Protection led to all-out domination not long after, with a few attempted uprisings dealt with harshly. Under Stalin, the Kazakhs were forced to agricultural collectives, amid some concern about pan-Islamic and pan-Turkic movements (Kazakh is actually a Turkic language). Interestingly, it seems there is the suggestion that this drove more militant Islamic elements into Afghanistan. When the Hordes were disbanded, their rulers were the last direct descendents of both Genghis Khan and his throne.

The collectives were an exercise in disaster. Different regions were given different crops and goods to produce, so that they would remain dependent on the Soviet system of distribution. Water was diverted out of the region’s two main rivers in order to irrigate huge cotton fields in Uzbekistan, ultimately resulting in the environmental disaster at the Aral Sea, where the salination level became so high as the water’s retreated from a lack of inflow, that the Sea can no longer support life. As food stores grew desperately low, people began to starve. Apparently there is some evidence that Stalin’s plans for the region included the depopulation of Kazakhstan in order to free up real estate for Russia. Different statistics I have encountered put the death toll at a quarter of the population or more, and over a million people.

Additionally, as the “Stans” were carved out of a large nebulous region, each was given a healthy dose of conflicting claims by conflicting groups and tribes, in order to ensure the Soviet yoke would be the only way to control the ensuing melee. Stalin then sent in settlers, including freed Russian serfs looking for land, and forced resettlements of people from other Soviet controlled countries, such as Poland, Ukraine, and East Germany. He also constructed a system of Gulags across the country, and parsed out land for the exploitation of resources through mining and other concerns.

While Kazakhstan declared it’s independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, the current president was also the last Communist Party leader under Soviet rule, and has remained in power for over 16 years. Kazakhstan is also a member of the CIS, which includes Russia and all ex-Soviet countries except Georgia and the Caucuses. I find it incredible that they now align with Russia by choice, but what choice really, do they have? Kazakhstan is now the 9th largest country in the world in terms of land mass, with a population of about 12 million, making it one of the least densely populated countries in the world. Here, it would seem, Stalin succeeded.

As for Arkalyk, I was told today by our coordinator’s sister, Zhana, that the economy became so dismal here, that from 1997 to 2001 the entire region, with Arkalyk as it’s center, was ‘shut down’. It was merged with another region at some point, the region of Kostanai. As she told the story, ‘there was only sometimes running water, sometimes electricity, and usually no heat in the buildings. This is a country where the heat is hot water, and pipes are run from a central location to each building, down the sidewalks in most cases, or up over the streets in huge arches alongside the sewage pipes. My guess is that the frost line is fairly deep, and they didn’t want the expense of burying the pipes, so they just ran them right above ground. You step over them regularly as you walk along. Most of them are rusting and decaying at this point. You wonder how long it can hold up. The heat is turned off and on by the government, and they determine how warm the buildings are kept. You regulate temperature by putting on more layers, or opening the windows, even in the dead of winter. The woman who is cooking for us, Bacha (our coordinators Aunt, of course, this is a family business), had the kitchen door to outside open today during a howling blizzard, it was so hot.

(Hot water and Sewage pipes)

There were no trains that came for weeks with food, no jobs, and Arkalyk’s population fell from 80,000 to 40,000. Galina, our translator was about 12 at the time. She told us of having gone to school with winter coats, hats and gloves on, and doing lessons by candlelight. Today she showed me on the Google Earth photo of Arkalyk, the sections of town that were ‘shut down’. It is a huge section. We have walked by dozens of huge apartment buildings that are bricked up. According to Galina, the apartment building we are in is one of the ‘nice ones’. The flats are bigger and have more ‘amenities’.

(closed down section of the city)

The others were built for the common people she says. How eerie, to have parts of a city completely depopulated, under what Zhana terms ‘the centralization’. It makes sense to have half the number of fully occupied buildings rather than many that are only partially occupied. Less overhead costs and probably safer as well. I don’t know how the process worked, but it’s difficult to imagine being told your entire building was being shut down. Hard to imagine a way in which it could have been worked out equitably. The buildings that do remain occupied are run down and dilapidated. Zhana’s family stayed and Galina’s family stayed, and now things are improving, but slowly.

(the front door of our apartment building)

The region exports bauxite, but true to the Soviet system, there is no processing plant here for aluminum, so it is shipped by train far to the South. Despite a population of 40,000 people however, there are no major shops in the city, no true grocery store, and they are only connected to the infrastructure of Kazakhstan by one train a day from Astana (13 ½ hours) and one from the capital of the region, Kostanai (16 hours and 600km away). They have an airport that was completed, but never used, and the roads are impassable in winter and only marginally better in summer. Many cars here are very dilapidated, as the roads are so rutted. I have yet to see a paved road in Arkalyk. Getting goods here is a challenge, and much of the furniture, including cabinetry, etc is knock-down stuff, as it ships more easily. The winter temperatures drop to –30 Farenheit, and summer temperatures can soar to 115 degrees. This part of the world is rife with such things as typhoid, malaria, TB, and diseases you would never want to hear pass your doctor’s lips. Medicines are difficult to get and expensive, and of course you must pay for own medical care and private insurance is non-existent.

And despite this, the people seem happy, are cheerful and friendly. They stay here with their families for generations. Not that they have too many options, especially the women. But it’s interesting to reflect on what it takes to make us humans happy. This is the most integrated example I have seen in all my travels of extended family. Bruce started putting together a simple family tree for our coordinator’s family as there are so many different family members coming and going! They set aside their jobs, families, and who knows what else to jump in and help out Habiba (our coordinator) while she has been out having spinal surgery. There seems to be no question. When she returns later this week, she, her husband and her two young girls are all moving in with her in-laws so they can help her family while she recovers. In the meantime, her sister pinch-hits as our coordinator, he aunt cooks for us, her uncle is our driver, her friend is our translator, her nephew comes to play with Jaden, her niece fills in when the aunt has to work at the hospital.

What a rich, deep quality there is to it all. Jaden is seeing that there are people who live very differently than do we. It is so valuable a lesson, one I hope he retains. It isn’t only what they don’t have, but what they do. A sense of belonging to a place, a family, a tribe even, that I feel we American’s have lost. It is different even than being a part of a community. We live such transient lifestyles, so focused on the busyness. We ‘do lunch’ to catch up on each other’s lives, and somehow fail to be a part of each other’s lives. We swap playdates to catch up on errands, but how do those errands add anything to our experience as human beings? I am as guilty of this as anyone, and perhaps part of the lesson of being here is to absorb this more fully, figure out how to pull this quality more fully into our lives, into my new son’s life, and take that piece of his culture away with us in some bigger way. Not that we are moving in with my parents anytime soon, I don’t want them to get nervous J. But to see that happiness doesn’t come from more, and to see it in a tangible way rather than as a philosophical concept bandied about in a way that inevitably reflects Western culture, reflects choosing to do without rather than being without, what a gift.

Jaden's Blog has been updated!

Jaden has resumed posting, and is now tracking his comments and visitors carefully. Sorry for the lag time, and to everyone who has left comments. He LOVES reading them and knowing there are people out there thinking about him (as do we!).

To Goa or not to Goa

Well, not to Goa, actually. It seemed such a good idea at the time. We have not yet fully absorbed where we are in the world, apparently. First, we discovered there were no train tickets available, as Thursday is the biggest holiday of the year, Nauraz, the Kazakh New Year and Spring Festival. (I asked why is was a Spring Festival when the ground was still frozen solid outside and was told because it is Spring on the western calendar. Of course.).
Bummer. Problem is there are only 2 flights per week to Delhi, Tuesday and Friday. We want to be on Friday’s flight, and that will only happen if we leave Arkalyk on Monday night, as we need to stay one night in Almaty to go to the Indian Embassy and get our visas. We checked the Embassy web site for the U.S., and they said you could walk in and get them.

So, our coordinator suggested we could hire a car and drive, which would only take 10 hours. Probably. If we made it. In a howling blizzard. In the dead of winter. Winds about 70 miles per hour. Five minutes later, she mentioned the road was closed and wouldn’t reopen for 3 days. Maybe. Or, she suggested, she could call the director of the train, and offer him some money, and see if we could get a place in his private cabin. Maybe he would do it. She doesn’t know him,… but…. Maybe. Or, maybe she could offer $100 (instead of the $80 the tickets cost) to the ticket seller, and find some spaces. She would try. We give her our approval. About an hour later, she magically comes back with train tickets, doing a little happy dance. Jaden does a happy dance too, as he is very psyched to go to the beach. We start to pack up some stuff, but still need to check on our visas, book flights, book hotels, and… there must be SOMETHING else we are missing.

In the morning Bruce called the Indian Embassy about a visa. Yes, they said, you can apply for a visa. It will take 5 working days. They accept applications from 10am-12pm on Monday, Tuesday and Friday. This is Monday. And Thursday and Friday are holidays. And the soonest we could get there would be Wednesday. And again, there are only 2 flights a week to Delhi, Friday and Tuesday. No way around this they tell us. So, to get to Goa, we could take a 15 hour train ride to Astana, fly from Astana to Almaty, wait 6 days, go to the Indian Embassy, apply for our visas, wait until the following Monday, fly out Tuesday. It would take 2 weeks to leave the country! Hmmm…. Not to Goa.

We tell Jaden. He cries. He really wants to go to the beach. So does Bruce. Desperately. Anyone who has dealt with Bruce when he’s desperate to have something happen will sympathize here. He starts looking for other options. It’s about 1pm, the train leaves at 6:40, and the Air Astana website was down. Air Astana is about the only way out of here, so this was not a helpful development. We consider flying into Bangkok and going to the beaches of Thailand. Good news, we don’t need visas! But we still can’t check airfares or schedules. Finally, we find out that there is ONE flight a week from Almaty to Bangkok, and it leaves on Wednesdays. Again, we need to be on tonight’s train. Our interpreter, Galina, went back to her full time job of teaching today, so we are winging it with Zhana and the others. Bruce is explaining exactly what we need, when we need it, what should happen, etc. He asks about someone calling Air Astana for us (after we try fruitlessly for an hour) to check flights. They call to the coordinator in Astana. She says she can check with the travel agency. This seems like progress, as do all beginnings.

Several hours and several phone calls later, we get the following information: We can take the train tonight, spend two days in Astana, then fly to Almaty on Thursday, and see if we can find flights to Thailand. What?!? ‘No’, we say, ‘We need to KNOW we have flights to Thailand, and Thursday is too late.’ Bruce is so irritated. “Are they crazy?” he wants to know? ‘No dear, you are.’ The folks here take the train to Astana maybe twice a year. They don’t fly. They don’t price airline tickets, understand connections, etc. To them paying $500 or $5000 for an airline ticket is equally out of reach. This would be like asking us to identify a rare strain of bacteria in a Petri dish with our eyes closed by sniffing it. We tell them ‘never mind’ we will stay here. Zhana is disappointed. “Why don’t you go to Almaty and look for a flight there?” she wants to know, “The travel agent says you can go anywhere in the world from Almaty, flights to Bangkok every day.” Well, there was that other flight… the one that flew from Almaty to Seoul, Seoul to Taipei, Taipei to Bangkok. That could be fun. We cancel our trip. Maybe we will try to think of somewhere to go next week. But alas, it won’t be Goa. Any illusions about parallels between our life and home and life here have been put to rest. Until there is something else Bruce is determined to do.






Where we will be instead of Goa

His and Hers Accounts: “What a long hard trip its been”. A new theme on an old tune.

“What a long hard trip its been”. A new theme on an old tune. This is my first post to Lynne’s blog, about 2 weeks into our journey. Lynne is doing such a great job of capturing this trip, there will be little for me to add most of the time. But after 4 days here in Arkalyk, I wanted to put my thoughts down as it has been quite an overwhelming experience.

After our 15 hour train ride (you’ll have to go to Jaden’s blog to hear his top 10 train lowlights), we arrived in Arkalyk at 7:00am, still dark, freezing cold, wind blowing hard, our bodies think its 2:00am (German time), very little sleep for any of us. Six heavy bags plus 3 back packs to unload and drag into some type of old school Soviet car. After a 5 minute drive we arrive at a building that is part of a complex that looks similar to the tenements I’ve driven by dozens of times in the Bronx, with one of the four buildings completely sealed up, I don’t think its ever been occupied. We open the heavy metal door and drag the luggage up the dimly lit cement stairs three flights to our “flat”. The inside is surprisingly decent given the terrible exterior appearance. After 4 flights, a long drive, the train ride, and a conference thrown in the middle, we finally arrived.

Our guide is Zhana, the sister of Habiba, the main adoption coordinator in Arkalyk. Habiba is in the hospital in Kostany, the nearest town (13 hour train ride), having just had back surgery (imagine her train ride back). Zhana barely speaks English, but she is very nice, and has breakfast prepared for us. We are so tired, but when I see her frying eggs, and she understands that I want her to flip them and cook them longer (I like mine over hard, as do Lynne and Jaden), I at least know we’ll get a good meal before we head for the orphanage which we are supposed to do at 10:00am. We sit down to breakfast with Zhana, and she is stressed. There is another family here for an adoption and today is their first court date. There is a problem with their paperwork (and we find out right then that we’re going to have that same problem). So she and the translator have to spend the whole day running around and we might not get to the orphanage. Turns out we don’t go to the orphanage, so one day down, we took a long nap and that was about it.

The living situation starts to become clearer. Habiba’s family is basically our guides for our stay. I’m trying to piece it all together, but its hard. Zhana is filling in as the main adoption coordinator, their aunt cooks all of our meals for us (she is a great cook!), their niece helps clean up after the meals, and she cooks when the aunt has to go to work, their uncle is the driver (although we quickly figured out we can walk to the orphanage quicker than the drive). Zhana’s son Darchon is 9 years old, and he has already become Jaden’s buddy. Yesterday they played War (the card game), chess (I taught Jaden on the train) and then had a wrestling match. Habiba owns the flat we are staying in, and when other families come, they have other places in the family where people can stay. So it’s a total family affair, and they do a great job of taking care of us, we are pretty much being “wined and dined” Kazakh style (without the wine and although not what we would think of as being wined and dined, the food really is surprisingly good and having someone cook and clean for us is a nice thing.)

I was very happy to find that we have Internet access (slow dial-up) already set up, so we were able to get online immediately and Lynne and I both have been able to stay in touch online, use Instant messaging and even skype to stay in touch with the world. My mobile phone works, so I’m not as disconnected from the work world as I thought I would be. So, one day down, things seem ok, we’re situated and we’re ready for the orphanage on day two.

We get to the orphanage at 10:00am and meet the head Dr. and a host of other people, who are not introduced to us. We also meet our translator, who is a very nice young woman who teaches high school English, and speaks English very well. Galena is our conduit to understanding here. They bring out two boys, Jenna and Timor (spellings are all approximate in this post). Lynne identifies health issues with Jenna right away, Timor seems better. We watch them play for awhile. Then two more boys come out, Nikolai and Valera. First they were in shorts and very strange shoes and they didn’t quite look right. The Dr. sent them away and they returned shortly in sweats and no shoes and they looked much better. There are balloons on the walls from a party they must have had a day or two ago and we start bring them down for the boys to play with. The 4 boys all start grabbing and hitting the balloons and Jaden is just dancing around adding to the mayhem. It was a crazy scene. We were trying to watch all of the boys and how they interacted with each other. They were all having fun, it was a pretty cool situation. The kids leave the room, and its time to ask the Dr. some questions. Lynne has immediately eliminated Jenna as an option, we really did not plan on a boy who wasn’t healthy. We know that whoever we bring home will have challenges with attachment and the other issues that arise from institutional care, but we want to avoid serious medical conditions.

We ask about Timor – “Do you know anything about his mother”. Dr. “Yes, I know her well, she is an alcoholic”. Our hearts sink. We ask more questions, but they don’t really matter. OK – what can you tell us about Nikolai and Valera – turns out they are brothers, or I should say half brothers, they have the same mother, but not the same father. One has beautiful brown eyes and the other one baby blue eyes. They are 10 months apart. Their mother was an alcoholic as well. We sink further. We ask, “what other options are there”. “We have two infants, one 6 months and one 8 months”. We ask, “what about girls?” No, they don’t have any girls available for adoption. “That’s it?” “Yes, that’s all”. We have just traveled half way around the world to come find little brother and he’s not here. We go back to Timor. There was something about him. “Can you get us his measurements? Height/Weight/Head Circumference”. We’ll get that when we come back at 4:00. We leave in a state of shock.

We talk about our “options”. Timor has something inside him, so let’s do more research on Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) (Lynne gets online immediately). The two brothers both seemed to have potential, but we really weren’t planning on two, and they might have FAS as well. A baby? Not what we were thinking.

At 4:00pm we return to the orphanage and the Dr. wants to know if we have made a decision. What? A decision, is she kidding? No she’s not kidding, its some kind of hard sell technique that I really don’t get. It just seems like orphanages want to pressure parents into making quick decisions, maybe its before you start to see negative things and change your minds. They want to place their children, and I’m sure they want to be as efficient as possible, but this is a lifetime decision we’re considering here. We tell her we want to spend more time with Timor and the brothers. The balloons are back and the boys have a lot of fun. Jaden, who has been an incredible trooper on this whole trip, is cruising around the room again, being the gentle giant he is, but is probably a pretty scary figure for them, he’s three times their size, and he’s well… he’s Jaden. I really like Nikolai, he’s spunky, and Lynne really likes his brother Valera. Timor continues to intrigue us. We ask if we can take pictures and we are told no. I tell the translator to tell the Dr. that we really need to be able to take pictures to help us with our decision. The real reason is that we want to send photos to the Adoption Physician we have on call at Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia to help us with the FAS determination, but they wouldn’t like that we are going to our own Dr. for a second opinion. They agree to let us take photos and we take a lot. We talk to the Dr. again, and express our concern about the alcohol situation with the mothers. Somehow the story changes and the mother of the brothers is not an alcoholic, “just” homeless. The boys actually don’t have the look that comes with FAS, so while I don’t believe the change in story, we do think the kids look healthy. Timor is starting to show signs of problems, that look you’ve seen in pictures of kids who just aren’t connecting with the outside world. (But the spark is in there, living in an orphanage your whole life can certainly shut you down and cause what’s happening with him. We can’t just let him go yet). We leave telling them we need more time. We are drained. We went from worrying about getting here, getting our massive amounts of luggage here, where we are going to stay, whether we could eat the food, and if we would have Internet and phone to the reality of the adoption. The shit has hit the fan.

After one day at the orphanage, our options are limited:
Continue to learn as much as we can about Timor
Bring home two brothers
Consider an infant
Go to another town in this region
Go home without little brother

We get photos and measurements and a description of Timor, Nikolai and Valera to the Adoption Doctor. We confirm a call with her for 8pm her time that night. That’s 6am the next morning for us, great since we are already sleep deprived and we’re up to 2:30am. The Dr. really just confirms our concerns. Timor most likely either has FAS or Fetal Alcohol Effect (FAE), both of which would be bad news and not correctable. This is based more on the fact that his mother was an alcoholic and our comments than the photos. She needs to see some better photos to be more certain. She thinks he would be a very risky adoption, and we already know that. She does not have the same concerns about the brothers, nor do we. So we sit there at 7:00am and decide we have the following options:

Take more pictures of Timor, and try to give the Dr. a little more to go on. Although his actions could be consistent with FAS, we don’t think is facial expressions are, and that’s a prime determinant. We need a professional opinion.
Consider taking home two brothers – we decide against this option, its just more than we bargained for, and at this stage in our life, not something we want to take on.
Consider an infant – same as above
Go to another town in this region – we’ve learned that the other 3 orphanages in this region likely don’t have any children for us either. A big issue is that there are plenty of children in the orphanages, but only certain ones are “Off the Registry” and available for adoption by foreigners. They have to be available for Kazakh citizens for 6 months before they can be adopted internationally. Other paperwork requirements exist, so the number of available kids here is small. (Something we just learned the hard way)
Go home without little brother – this seems like a very real possibility
Call our adoption agency in the states and see if they have any other options for us. Possibly a move to another region can be arranged. Although we have been told that they don’t allow this, we would argue the point that they sent us to a region with no kids that matched our request.

We get in touch with our adoption agency and tell our coordinator, what is going on. We hear back quickly, that there might be another boy who will be coming off the register soon that could be available. She is told that his mother was not an alcoholic (all of a sudden this is the most important issue in the world to us – we actually thought one of the reasons to come to Kaz was that there would be less likelihood of FAS here.) More details about this boy might become available later today. We go back to the orphanage for day two – focused on Timor. Every day, there are two, two hour visiting sessions. One at 10:00am one at 4:00pm. In the morning, Timor is pretty engaged with us. Having him one on one instead of the craziness the day before seems better for him. Lynne is convinced that there is a special boy inside and I agree there is a spark, but he just has that affect that looks like something is wrong. The caregivers have told us he has had significant developmental issues growing up (he’s 2 ½ yrs old) and they are starting to steer us away from him. They even comment that when we get home, if we have problems, they don’t want us to blame them, so they are being very forthright about his condition. His measurements look good overall, with his head in the 50th percentile for most of his life. He’s short, but stocky. Maybe with the right environment and some special treatment he would be fine…

At the 4:00pm session, we are told that they will let us see the other boy, his name is Termilanu, his nickname is Tuma. Tuma’s eyes and face are lit up compared to Timor’s. He’s totally aware and seems sharp. He’s a Kazakh native, just turned two, and pretty shy. He is interactive with his caregivers and Zhana. He understands and responds to what she asks him to do, all great signs. This could be a good option, what’s the story? We are told that he will become available for adoption on April 12. That means an additional 4 weeks to wait before we can start the bonding process, so instead of 6-8 weeks, its 10-12 weeks to adopt Tuma, roll the dice with Timor, or go home empty handed. We remain close to shock as this was not what we imagined in our journey for our little brother. We got so caught up in the spirit of the adventure, the reality of what we are doing here just hit us like a sledgehammer when it didn’t pan out as expected. Do we stay here for another month? Do we go home and return? What about Timor?

We discuss this over dinner. We definitely don’t want to stay here another month, and the idea of flying home just to return sounds unbelievably onerous, even if we can leave most of our luggage here. I’m not sure how it started, but I suggest we make lemonade out of lemons. How about if we take a trip somewhere in this part of the world, perhaps to somewhere warm, or somewhere cool (not cool as in almost cold). I would have to work full-time if we are going to take another month. My company has an office in Dusseldorf, we could go there. I have an associate and a big project going on in India we could go there. We could go to Goa! Lynne just mentioned last week that she wants to go to this world renowned beach resort, and I agreed we needed to go there before it gets even more overrun by tourists. Jaden tells us he’s “summer sick” so we all agree, if we have to go somewhere, let’s go to a beach, and an exotic one at that. We also think about southern Europe and our wheels start turning. We get online and begin looking at our options. Within minutes my Europe office has a great apartment available near Dusseldorf. I instant message with my associate in Bombay, and he convinces us that Goa is the right choice. I talk to my boss and he remains 100% supportive of whatever we need to do. He mentions the roller coaster ride we must be on, and I respond that on roller coasters you go down and then up and then up and down, this ride has been all downhill so far, more like a train wreck. Another night online until 2:30am looking at flights out of Kazakhstan and we quickly realize that no matter where we go, it will be 2 days or so to get anywhere. We agree to keep it as simple as possible. No more than three flights (after the 15 hour train ride) and no more than one overnight. We also have to consider costs, that’s a lot more airfare and lodging cost, but this is a once in a lifetime experience. We can’t believe we’re going to go through this again. Can we do this to Jaden? This is the kid who is still up every night until midnight because he’s (as he says) “in the Jaden time zone and can’t get out of it”. Maybe it’s the black tea that they serve here with every meal that he insists on drinking. We also hear back from the Adoption Dr. at CHOP. Based on the new photos we sent, she confirms that Timor does not have the classic facial symptoms of FAS, but still thinks he does have FAE. She has serious concerns. We do too. This is too much. We decide that Tuma is our better choice.

Day three at the orphanage. We want to spend more time with Tuma and make a decision. They bring him in and leave him with us. Lynne, Jaden, Galena (translator) and myself. As soon as the adoption caregiver leaves he starts crying his head off. He wants to go back to his friends where he’s comfortable. Lynne does everything she can to comfort him, but he’s inconsolable. After 15-20 minutes, we agree we should let him go back. Lynne remarks that it was fine having a baby crying on her, he wasn’t “stiff” at all, a good sign. For a two year old anywhere, stranger anxiety is expected. For one in an orphanage with people who don’t look like you or sound like you, we all agreed this is normal behavior and actually more in line than the lack of reaction we got from Timor. We come back at 4:00 to try again. Again, he starts crying as soon as he is left with us. Five minutes later, Zhana arrives and is able to somewhat soothe him by speaking Russian and just being more familiar. At around 4:30, they are ready to take the kids in his group outside, so we go out and play with a group of about fifteen 2-4 year olds and watch them in action. The caregivers don’t do anything to provide a play experience, so the kids pretty much just stand around, and some of them play with the snow. The more adventurous ones try to climb some little hills of snow that have been shoveled, but the caregivers take them right down, probably to avoid injuries. Our little Tuma tries to climb a hill over and over, a mountain climber – aha, another good sign. Other kids have fun throwing snow over and over at me and Jaden, or giving us snow in their little snow shovels. One of the brothers, the one I really liked, Nikolai, is a real pain, throwing snow repeatedly in Jaden’s face, almost throwing a shovel at him and when I tell him “Nyet” he spits at me! These kids were really cute and fun to play with. Tuma is one of the littlest ones. He opens up in this atmosphere to Lynne and we get some photos. He even cracks some smiles. He’s going to be fine once we can get him to stop crying… We’ve made our decision, we’ve found our little brother!

We come home, and get an incredible phone call from our translator. We are told they’ve talked to the social worker and she has worked it out so that we don’t have to wait until April 12 to start the two week bonding period after all. We can start immediately. In some ways, I’m disappointed, Goa would have been cool, but the reality of being back on track, with a healthy boy, and avoiding the train trip (twice more) was amazing. We don’t know how it happened, and why, and we weren’t going to ask questions. I know something is fishy, and I don’t know what, but this is great news. We drink a toast of spring water and start getting serious about what to do with Tuma’s name because we’re going to need that on the court documents, and soon.

An hour later we get another call. No, we can’t change the dates, that would be illegal (that’s what we thought!). So we’re back to waiting until April 12 before we can officially start the bonding period. Tuma is still available for adoption to a Kazakh family until then. The orphanage is promising to “hold him” for us, to do anything they can, are we supposed to give them money for this? I really don’t know. Lynne thinks I’m a skeptic, but I think I have good reason at this point. I don’t fully trust anyone or anything here, and I’ve heard and read that you need to grease the palms, but when is it appropriate and when isn’t it? Lynne insists its not in the adoption world, although we do have two brand new top of the line stethescopes to give as a gift to the Dr.’s at the orphanage (Lynne got them donated from 3M). I think we should at least give those before we leave as a token of our appreciation and to “encourage” them to leave Tuma in the back room and not “show him” to prospective families until we return.

So, back to our plans for Goa. The thought of that long trek is difficult since we thought we were going to avoid it, but the thought of about 3 weeks in a beautiful and exotic beach resort where its 80-90 degrees every day and where I can be effective for work with high speed Internet, good phone service and a focus on a project based in India is about as good an option as we could hope for at this point.

So yes, we are now on the roller coaster. We hit bottom yesterday at about 7am, and the hill climb started. Today we had the joy of finding Tuma and the ups and downs that have come with that so far. Once we can relate to and begin bonding with Tuma, I expect this will begin to get really intense in a great way. Because of this month wait, I don’t think we should start to try to get the bonding started, that will have to wait until April, and based on what we’ve seen the last few days, that will be another trying experience.

Stay tuned.

Peace, Out – Bruce

Lemonade, or our trip to India

This week has been like nothing I could ever have imagined. The emotion, the intensity, the craziness, all of it. We have only been here 4 days, and such an incredible amount has happened. I know you all have been waiting to hear what’s happening, but there was no way to communicate it. We didn’t even know what was happening. I’ll start from the beginning, which is actually an incident from before we left.

Jaden’s kindergarten teacher, Norah, holds a beautiful ceremony for each child’s birthday in the classroom. During the ceremony, she tells a wonderful story of the child coming to his or her parents as a star before he/she was born and asking if they would be his mommy or daddy. In Jaden’s story, she also added a part about his new brother coming to Jaden as a star and asking if Jaden would be his brother. It was very sweet and touching. A few days later, we were leaving the school. We were the very last ones there (no surprises there), and as we walked to the car, I walked out way ahead of Jaden. A few minutes later I heard him saying, really excitedly, “Mommy, mommy, you won’t believe it! My brother just came to me as a star and asked me to be his brother, I heard him whisper in my ear!” Dead earnest. I said “Wow Jaden, that’s amazing, what did you say?”. He responded, “I just danced a little jig.”

Keeping this in mind, fast forward to Arkalyk, Kazakhstan, Thursday, March 15th. After sitting around all day Wednesday, we woke up Thursday morning, and headed out to the orphanage. The place was better than I had imagined in some ways, and the reality of it is much worse in others. More on that another time. We went into a big room with a couple of couches and a couple of rugs on the floor. Our local coordinator, Zhana, and translator, Galina, were with us (as was Jaden). The head doctor came in, along with the pediatrician, the head caregiver, and it seems like there were some other people in the room? There was another adoptive mom there with her soon to be son, whom she had met only 5 days earlier.

The head doctor asks us a bunch of questions: “why are you adopting”, “is your son your biological child”, “if you can have children, why don’t you have another one of your own”, “what do you do for work”, etc. She also asks what type of child we are interested in: totally healthy, some correctable issues, etc. I respond that some minor correctable issues are OK, as I have been warned by our agency that here they view most children has having some disability, and we should answer this way as they don’t think any children are totally healthy. Apparently the condition of being born sets you back from the get-go. Suddenly, and with no warning, a door in the corner swings open, and these two small boys come literally running into the room, like two birds released from a cage. The minute I looked at them my heart sank a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure they were there for us to meet, as no one had said anything, or prepared us in any way, but it was soon obvious that’s exactly what was going on.

One boy had a huge smile on his face, but had what seemed to be some obvious neurological issues, as he held his arms in a strange position. He wouldn’t respond to his name when anyone called him. He found a balloon leftover from a party they had, and ran around the room crazily chasing it, trying to put it on top of things, etc. I couldn’t get him to stop, slow down, make eye contact, nothing.

The other boy had a strange expression on his face, a totally flat affect. He also started to play with a balloon, but in a way that just seemed off. He would make eye contact, but seemed very shut down and overwhelmed. I thought that seemed like it could be understandable, given the number of people in the room, etc. I tried interacting with him, with some limited success. Both boys were between 2 ½ and 3 years old. While we are trying to process what’s going on, the door opens again, and two more small boys come into the room holding hands, in shorts and t-shirts, spindly pale legs and all. It seems this did NOT meet with the head doctor’s approval, as she immediately had them taken away, and returned with long pants on and new shoes. In the meantime we are told they are brothers, 2 ½ and 3 ½. Wow. That puts a whole new spin on things. Although our paperwork is approved for us to adopt 2 children, this is not seriously in our plans, but more of a ‘just in case’ scenario.

The doctor asks if we are interested in babies, as they have two boys, one 7 months, one 9 months. As we are saying ‘no, we really don’t want an infant’, two caregivers enter the room, each carrying one of the babies. How is the doctor orchestrating all this?!? She hasn’t left her chair, and yet kids keep appearing as if on an invisible conveyor belt. The babies are Oh So Cute, as only babies can be. Zhana, our coordinator, takes one and talks to him, and brings him over for us to look at. The other one makes funny faces at the doctor. We resist (I more than Bruce I am sure) to hold them. Jaden says “Oh Mommy, they are so cute!” I knew this was going to be rough, this is just different than I expected somehow. In this middle of all this at some point, Jaden informs me that he thinks the second boy, who is 2 ½ and named Timor, might be his brother, the one who came to him as a star. Oh my. I am totally stunned. What to say to that? I have no idea what to think.

When the brothers return, there are now 6 children in the room, including Jaden and the other little boy being adopted. There are about 9 adults, most speaking rapid Russian. The boys with the balloons are still chasing them crazily about. And now the brothers want balloons to play with too. So Bruce gets balloons for everyone (they are stuck on the walls), and begins a wild game of balloon toss with the kids. Jaden is pretty wound up, and about twice the height of any of these kids. He looks like the Jolly Green Giant next to them. I am trying to assess the whole situation and interact with each of the kids a bit. One of the brothers hits the others, and they are abruptly taken out of the room, again with nothing said. Then the other two are taken out. We are told these are the only children that are available for adoption at the moment. The doctor looks at us and says (through the interpreter) “Do you have any questions?”. Oh maybe just one or two….

We start asking questions about the kids medical histories, etc. We start with Timor, for a number of reasons. We ask what they know about his medical history. They tell us he has been at the orphanage since he was one month old, and is somewhat delayed developmentally. We aren’t too surprised at that, as many children who live in orphanages have some degree of delays. Bruce then asks if anything is known about the mother. We are not prepared for the answer. The doctor responds, that yes, she knows the mother well. She is an alcoholic. I felt my heart sink further. “Did she drink while she was pregnant?” asks Bruce. “Well, yes,” came the reply, “She drank a lot”. “What about the brothers?” we ask, wondering exactly what our options are here. “Yes, she drank, but not as much” came the reply. “And she was homeless. She took the children back a few times, but the last time the police found them abandoned on the street.” We asked a few more questions, but were pretty dazed by this time. Then the doctor says, “Well, what is your decision?” It seemed grim humor, but she was totally serious. We told her we would go home to think and return in the afternoon.

Bruce and I could hardly speak. What was there to say? We came so, so far, with so much hope in our hearts. We were faced with two children who seemed likely to have major health issues including possible Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS), two with possible alcohol exposure, although they seemed fairly healthy, but meant turning our family of 3 into a family of 5, and two infants. It hardly seemed that there were options to consider. Nonetheless, we tried. Hard. We talked and thought about the implications of each of these situations. We ruled nothing out, except the boy who wouldn’t connect at all, as he seemed too disconnected to us. And at 4pm we went back to the orphanage, a totally different journey than the one we had taken just that morning. Once again, the room filled with people. This time someone had let the orphange’s pet cockatiel out of it’s cage, and it flew around the room, nibbled at people’s earrings, and ate it’s own poop. We asked to see the brothers and Timor again.

Again the balloons came out. Bruce insisted that we be allowed to take photos of the children, knowing we would want feedback from the International Adoption (IA) doctor we are working with. I started taking photos as we played. The head doctor fortunately left the room. There are very specific criteria used to diagnose FAS, and so the pictures needed to be taken a certain way. I crawled around trying to take as many photos as possible, play with the kids, keep Jaden from getting too crazy, and not take so many photos that the orphange staff became irritated or insulted. The brothers seemed like great kids. Timor still seemed shut down, but there was something there that made us think it was worth considering. At the end of the day, we told the doctor again, we would have to go home and think about this. We also asked again if there were any other children we could consider, including girls. No, we were told, this was it. I asked if there were any coming off the registry any time soon. No. They urged us to take the brothers, and told us that Timor was quite delayed, and they didn’t think we should adopt him. We went back to the apartment.

We got immediately busy downloading photos, uploading them to a web album for the doctor to view, and trying urgently to get our IA doc on the phone. We left a message for her to email us with a time to call. We continued to talk and try to find some way through this. We researched FAS and FAE (Fetal Alcohol Effect) online. Nothing we found gave us any comfort. FAS is irreversable, and can be very severe, including heart defects, vision and hearing problems, ADD/ADHD, behavioural issues, learning disabilities, poor impulse control, poor social interactions, etc. We talked some more. We decided that we could not adopt 2 children. We didn’t know if we could handle the pressures it would place on our family, and of course there is no going back. We have great respect for all of you that parent 3 or more children, and we see the demands it places on you and your families. As great as the brothers seemed, and as much as we wished we could do it, we ultimately felt it wouldn’t be a fair decision, for us or for Jaden. Around 2am we finally got a response from the AI doc. She could do a call at 6am our time. We called our adoption coordinator at the agency in California to tell her what was going on. We went to bed.

After talking to the IA doc, we realized we needed more photos. We also felt we needed to spend some time alone with Timor to see how he acted when there was less stimuli. So we returned to the orphanage that morning with toys and markers, and our camera. When we arrived, we were told that our agency coordinator had talked to someone who talked to someone… and maybe there was a child that would be coming off of the registry soon. They were going to check, and if so, they would show him to us in the afternoon. We hung out for about 2 hours, and were surprised at how well this child played. He had good motor skills, good understanding of how things worked, etc. He didn’t communicate verbally at all though, or really even non-verbally for that matter. No noises, no attempt to talk, no change in facial expression. We realized he likely had a vision issue, as he holds everything quite close to see it. We were a little encouraged, but the fact that this child had yet to show an emotion of any kind was concerning. As we took more photos, we felt he likely didn’t have FAS, but there was clearly something not right. We went back to the apartment. We emailed more photos, we had lunch, I took a nap. We ruled out the idea of adopting an infant. We discussed what it would mean to go home without our little brother, without our second born. We were all really drained.

We went back in the afternoon. We met the new child, a small boy named Tirmilanu. He just turned two, and seemed cute and bright. It was hard to tell, partly as we were so taxed at this point. Zhana asked him some questions “Where is the bear’s nose?”, “push the button on the phone”, etc. He seemed so much more aware in some way than Timor. It was hard to focus though, as there was a lot of conversation going on. In part, about the fact that this child wouldn’t be available for adoption until after April 12th. We couldn’t even start the process until then. And we were somewhat invested in Timor at this point, at least in seeing it through, getting all the answers we could so we could make a decision. Here I have to add that our IA doc has been invaluable. She advised us before we left ‘not to fall in love right away’. She suggested trying to keep emotion out of it for the first 48 hours. And she has been kind and supportive of our family unit as a whole, asking how we are, how Jaden is holding up, etc. Great woman.

We spent some more time with Timor. We had Zhana and Galina ask him some simple questions to see what he could understand. It wasn’t very promising, as he responded to nothing. He would look at them, seeming listen, and then nothing. One of his caregivers gave him a ball and asked him to take it to me. She asked at least 10 times before he did. He didn’t seem afraid, he just didn’t do it. My heart really broke for this child. What could he become given the right environment? Could our family handle the ‘What if’s?” We have all constructed these lives one tinker toy at a time, stable but fragile in some ways. We have seen some of the effects of two much strain on the system in the lives of some of you, our friends. We know how you have borne up when you have had to, how some of you have struggled, still struggle to keep your lives together under very difficult circumstances. Did we want to create this situation for ourselves by choice? Even given the best scenario, this child would be very difficult to bring out, and we have no way of knowing if it would even be possible. We went back to the apartment.

We talked last night about everything. We emailed with the IA doc again. We talked about what we felt we could do as a family, how much risk we could take and hold the whole together. My heart broke every time I thought of Timor. And yet we knew that it was more than we could do. I think I will hold that pain forever. I so wish I had it in me, that I could push myself over that line. And if it were just me, maybe I would. But I can’t take my family there, as selfish as it feels. I want to know if there is something we can do for this child. He has no future here, of that I am certain. We talked about our options, and decided to return again to visit with Tirmilanu again. Zhana is not happy about the delay. We talked again with our coordinator in California. She tells us to take our time, don’t feel any pressure. “You will have emotions, they will have emotions”, she says, “Just do what you need to in order to make the right decision for your family.” She promised to call again tonight to check in. We talked about what we would do if we had to wait nearly a month to start the adoption process if we felt Tirmilan was the right child for us. We decided that going home and returning in 3 weeks was not an option. But Bruce needs to be able to work, so there’s that to consider. And as Jaden put it, he’s “summer-sick”. Kind of like being homesick….

Today we went back to visit with Tirmilanu. This time, they opened the door and pushed this little 2 year old in, all by himself. It was only us, no one who could speak Russian. Yesterday he was happy to play with toys, play ball with me, etc. Today he looked at us for a minute and started to cry. Then he headed for the door. I picked him up and carried him around. He smelled like graham crackers. “Oh, that’s so sweet” Jaden said when I told him. His nickname is Tuma. He continued to cry. I showed him the bird. I showed him some toys. I tried to think of something to say with my 6 words of Russian. He cried. He started to calm down when someone opened the door to his playroom. He cried harder. Finally Zhana showed up. She took him and calmed him, but only a bit. Then she took him back to his room. The kids went outside, so we followed and watched them play. They took great delight in throwing shovelfuls of snow at Bruce. Jaden is the big dancing clown in their midst. We went back to the apartment.

In the afternoon we returned. Again the brought Tuma in. Again he cried. This time Zhana calms him for a few minutes before he starts again. She goes and gets his snowsuit. He let’s me help him put on his boots and his hat. He won’t let me hold his hand down the stairs though. We go back outside and hang out playing with the children for about an hour and a half. We walk back to the apartment. During dinner, our translator calls. Good news, she tells us, they can file our paperwork for the court date on March 29th, and then our second court date will be after April 12th, so it will all work out OK. Great we think, amazing. We have decided this little boy will be our son. I finally unpack. We go through our list of names over dinner, crossing out this one and that one, giving stars to the ones we like, trying to figure out what to use as a middle name, a nickname, a given name. After dinner we get another phone call from Galina. “How is your mood?” she asks. “How is it about to be?” I respond. She tells me that now they have called to Astana, and no, they cannot process the paperwork until after April 12th. We are not even supposed to meet this child until after April 12th. So sorry. We believe this child is our son. We consider our options. We contemplate 3 more trips on that train. We run through possible destinations and time zones. We discuss what to do with all of the stuff we have brought. Bruce explains to Jaden the concept of making lemonade out of the lemons life sometimes hands you. We plan our trip to India, to the beaches of Goa, to the land of high-speed internet access, to await April 12th. Which also happens to be our 10 year anniversary. Is it kismet?

As Bruce’s friend in Bombay said to him via IM today, ‘in Buddhist lands we believe the path to happiness is through suffering…’ As our agencies info packet said, ‘this is your chance to adopt a child, if it is what you really want, don’t give up even if things don’t go as you expect.’ As my son said, “Mommy, Tuma was the star who came to me. I am 100% sure.”

We will miss you all for another month, turn our lives upside down a little longer. We will hope for the best, as this journey is far from over. Hopefully we will return early June, with our 2 children, both borne in our hearts. Here is the face we hope you will see then, when you come to hang out this summer in our backyard, or when we next we meet with you, our friends and family from further away. Thanks for reading this far.

Google Earth Placemark

There is a googleEarth placemark for our apartment building in Arkalyk! It is under 'links' on the right side of the page (scroll down).

If you have Google Earth installed, you can double-click on the attached Placemark file and it will fly you to a location. If not, you will need to install Google Earth first (available at
http://earth.google.com).

Google Earth streams the world over wired and wireless networks enabling users to virtually go anywhere on the planet and see places in photographic detail. This is not like any map you have ever seen. This is a 3D model of the real world, based on real satellite images combined with maps, guides to restaurants, hotels, entertainment, businesses and more (OK, this is a Google generated plug, there are no restaurant or entertainment guides for Arkalyk on here!). You can zoom from space to street level instantly and then pan or jump from place to place, city to city, even country to country. Really cool stuff.

The Arkalyk tower placemark you will see when you get there, is the red and white TV tower you can see in our Arkalyk photo album, the link is on the right side of the page under 'links'! This is what we see looking out our bedroom window- that and a whole lotta white.

The Train truth….

Delayed post- Tuesday/Wednesday, March 13th/14th

Another flight, another time change, another hemisphere, another shift in culture and sensibilities to try to integrate. We are now exactly opposite Colorado in time-zones, and have literally traveled half-way around the world to find our child. We arrived yesterday in Astana from Frankfurt. No problem getting on the flight, no security lines, no hassles (we had MAJOR hassles with security in London, after deciding to leave the airport to get some food. Almost missed that flight because Jaden’s little 12”x12” backpack put us over the 1 bag per person limit…). The flight was surprisingly full of Europeans and Americans. We arrived in Astana, and after several confusing attempts, finally got the paperwork right to be allowed through immigration. All our bags arrived, we met Victoria, the person who works with our agency in Astana, and the driver Alex, they brought a big enough car for all of our stuff, and we were off to the hotel.

As we drove to the city, we passed through a series of neon arches over the roads. There were numerous buildings all lit up, with a variety of architectural styles. After a reappraisal this morning I think it could best be described as Vegas eclectic meets the High Steppe. As we approached town, there were these huge, very modern towers, with a funky domed roof and anntenae type things protruding from the top. I said to Jaden “hey, look out the window at those crazy buildings!” Turned out to be our hotel complex. I can highly recommend the Radisson SAS Astana, for any of you planning trips.

The people here so far have been very, very nice. They don’t smile much, but are friendly. I glanced through a book before I left about German customs (and am extrapolating it here to apply to all ex-Soviet countries as well), and came across a description of this behaviour to the effect of “Germans don’t walk around smiling, but save such demonstrativeness for their private lives. They consider it a sign of weak-mindedness in others.” I am trying to eminate a more intellegent air, but it is tough- it seems so rude NOT to smile at people, especially those I can’t communicate with in language, but they do seem non-plussed by the effort.
Jaden was up until 3am, and we have resorted to Benedryl a few times on this trip to get him to sleep, last night finally being one of them. He has not been to bed before 11:30 yet this trip. We all slept until almost 1pm, which was not the best move in hindsight. By the time we got out of the room, it was 2:30, and we had not eaten since the burgers we had at 1:30am the night before. So we went back down to the hotel bar for more burgers. At about $15 a pop, they were delicious both times… in the process of packing up though, we realized we no longer have our camera. Not good. So Bruce decided he wanted to get another camera. We asked Victoria if we had time to stop on the way to the train. “OK” she says, we can stop for 10 minutes. Bruce and Victoria disappear into the shop, and Jaden and I wait in the van. For a half an hour. ***Newsflash!! Turns out the camera is NOT lost, just buried in the bottom of Bruce’s backpack… Jaden is now the proud owner of a cheap digital camera, lucky boy. Given that he took 185 pictures in one day in Berlin, I am sure it will get good use!!

When they come back, we have a huge rush for the train, dragging 6 large heavy bags, plus the 4 smaller ones through the train station. As we get to the platforms, a troupe of guys in blue uniforms come up and ask if they can help with our bags. Mostly they ‘ask’ by the laying of hands on the bags. Bruce fends them off and asks Victoria who says yes, it is a good idea, they have a cart. OK. So they load up the bags, and Victoria says “Come with me”. We all start off, and then the blue guys yell for Bruce to come with them. No time to discuss. They go one direction, we another.

Jaden is such a trooper. No complaining this trip (well, there was the foot stamping in Berlin, but I think he can be forgiven), he just ran up the LONG flights of steps with us (because of course none of the UP escalators are working!), and across the platform, all at full tilt. As we reach the train, with minutes to spare (are you sensing a theme here?), I see Bruce coming way down in the distance, with a flying blue wedge of Kazakh’s ahead of him at a full run, all preceded by a cart with our bags on it. A fearsome sight. Jaden and I get on with Victoria, find our compartment, and take off our backpacks. About 2 minutes later, our bags are hurtling in the door. We hastily stow everything, and wait for Bruce. He doesn’t come right away, and I was getting a bit nervous. Turns out he was getting shaken down by the flying blue wedge. $40 later, we were all on the train. A bit overpriced perhaps, but we would NEVER have gotten all that stuff up those stock-still escalators in time… and now we have a camera again.

So now, we sit on a Soviet-era train, and I would like to say we are speeding towards our destiny, or some such thing. But trundling would be more appropriate. We have just made about our 14th stop in 6 hours, but I have stopped counting. The train itself has sleeping compartments, and we purchased all 4 bunks in ours, as our luggage needs a bunk of it’s own. There are oriental carpets on the floors, which sounds much plusher than it is. The windows are really dirty, but it doesn’t much matter, as there is nothing but flat white landscape, and old industrial sites to see. At one end of the car is a small compartment for the conductor and the Military policeman assigned to this route. Next to them is a contraption that looks like a 1940’s science experiment which it turns out dispenses hot water for tea, and whatever else you can think of to make with hot water. At the other end, is the bathroom. This is where things get pretty high on the ‘yuck’ scale. My father would NOT be happy. The toilet dumps directly onto the tracks, no surprise there. After about 2 hours into the trip, the floor was wet with who knows what, and there is a soaking wet squishy towel someone put down. I am trying hard to limit my liquid intake. There actually is soap and hot water though, so that’s something! Despite my best efforts to touch NOTHING in the bathroom, I still felt better about the soap and hot water…

We received our ration of 4 mattresses, 4 blankets and 4 pillows. Then the conductor came by with our sets of sheets and towels. After a game of chess and a dinner comprised of some snacks I smuggled out of the hotel’s buffet breakfast in Frankfurt and water I boiled in the coffee maker at the hotel last night, we made up the beds and worked on sleeping. Between the baby next door, the guy snoring (Bruce isn't 'cutting trees' as Jaden puts it for a change, he’s awake too!), and the 4 guys on the other side playing cards and drinking tea, sleep is a bit elusive. I have given up the job for a bit, and instead I write to you all. Our fellow passengers are made up of a mix of classic Russian types and ethnic Kazakh people. One older woman walked by me in a beautifully embroidered jacket with a colorful scarf wrapped around her head. She was really glorious looking. As soon as we boarded the train, one of our neighbors wanted to know… something. I used my one complete Russian phrase to say “I don’t understand Russian”. Then he wanted to know if we were American or English. He seemed surprised to hear we were Americans. He was very interested in a conversation, as were several others, but the number of topics are limited. I can discuss how I don’t understand Russian…!

I went down to ask the conductor if there was a way to turn the heat down, as the average temperature on the train is about 90 degrees (no, this isn’t an exaggeration, we were all sweating), and managed to find out that it is not possible. When I went to ask the question, I had my camera in my hand, and another guy there wanted to know if it was for listening to music. I said no, it’s a camera, showing him the front, and the button. He gave me a blank look. So I turned it on for him. This generated an amazed crowd. They all wanted to see, and asked how much it cost. I took a picture of the policeman to show them how it worked. He was very proud. I wish I could print it for him. After I went back to our cabin, the fellow who had first asked about the camera came by. He wanted to know if we were American or English. When I said American, he looked at Bruce and said “He’s not Russian?” with incredulity. ‘No, not Russian, American’ we answered. I asked again if there was any way to turn down the heat. A laugh, “No”. So we shoved a big bag against the heater, and put a couple of our towels over it, and now it has cooled off to a tolerable 75 or so. I am hoping there in nothing inside that we don’t want cooked.

Total side note: Bruce’s cell phone has 5 bars out here- go figure! I guess with a whole lotta nuthin’ in the way, signals can travel strong and far…

In the morning, we are expecting to find out where we will be staying, and then visit the orphanage and meet the children at some point. It seems incredible that time is already here. This whole adventure seemed such a chimera at some points, it’s hard to believe that soon we will be 4 instead of 3. Every child I see here I think “Is this how our son might look?”, and in every grown man I see the possibility of him in the future. The ethnic Kazakhs working at the hotel were mostly in their mid-20’s, handsome young men with great smiles. This post will probably be accompanied by another, with pictures and more info, by the time we are able to figure out how to get on line here.


Update: We are staying in a 2 bedroom apartment, owned by the local coordinator, Habiba. I think our hearts fell when we saw the building this morning. At 7:30am it was still dark, and the building looked absolutely decrepit. Fortunately, it turned out to be very livable inside. We have a rotating cast of Habiba’s relatives coming and going, cooking meals for us, etc. Habiba is in the hospital in Kostanai, a 16 hour train trip away. She just had back surgery yesterday, and I am sure she is looking forward to the train ride home in a few weeks. Ugh. Today was lots of craziness, and lots of nothing. We were going to go to the orphanage at 9am, then something came up with another family who had an appointment in court today. So it got moved to 4pm. Then something else came up. Now we are scheduled to go tomorrow at 10am. We will post updates as soon as we have them!! Love to all from the flat, flat steppe of Central Asia…