June 7, 2007 -- I have never seen Jennifer this happy. Not just a little, oh-that's-a-good-song-on-the-radio happy. We're talkin' happiness erupted and spilling across the countryside. We're talkin' joy.
She was excited in small, brief bursts as we landed at Uganda's Entebbe airport yesterday morning. We left immediately in a minivan taxi (the driver stops inches away from the vehicle in front, which in turn repeatedly stopped my heart) and made a brief detour to Kampala to exchange money. In the lobby of the exchange bureau was a small. There, American Jennifer was on full display. She pointed to a pair of pink sandals with rhinestone straps that had skinny, 3-inch heels and said, "I want to try those on." I said no and that they were completely inappropriate for a girl her age in Uganda. Unpersuaded, she growled something I couldn't understand. Oh, is she ever going to have trouble readjusting to Uganda, I thought.
After a four-hour ride pockmarked with holes in the dirt and cement road, we got to Gulu. Jennifer started getting more and more excited. When she started recognizing places, she stretched her hand from the middle seat toward me and shook my hand. She was smiling and doing that Jennifer dance/bounce motion in her seat. We drove to the Roma Hotel where she was staying and 73-year-old Abitimo -- her medical guardian in the US and who owns the school Jennifer attends in Gulu -- was there to meet us. Jennifer and Abitimo hugged affectionately as though they were grandmother and grandchild.
Next we went to the school, the Upper Nile Institute for Appropriate Technology, or UNIFAT, which Jennifer started attending about two months before she and Abitimo went to the United States in December 2005. That's when it was as clear as the sky over Gulu that Jennifer truly was home.
It's great that Jennifer made good friends in the United States. It's terrific
she learned to speak fluent English. Home is Uganda. Immediately, teachers and students came up to Jennifer and said the traditional greeting of "you are most welcome."
"She's so different, especially the eyes," said headmaster Oloya Juliuis Bosco.
Jennifer's smile somehow extends beyond her face when she sees one of her roommates at Abitimo's house, where Jennifer stays in Gulu. The chatter in the Acholi language is too fast for my interpreter to get, but the way Jennifer is holding hands with her friend, Lucy, says it all. I never saw Jennifer look this comfortable in the States, not even when she was with her good friends in Maryland.
It's about 6:30 p.m. and Jennifer's mom has not arrived yet from Kitgum. Michael and I invite Jennifer and Lucy to take a room at the hotel and stay there tonight -- in case Jennifer's mom comes, we want to see the reunion. We were at the hotel eating dinner when Abitimo called to stay Regina, Jennifer's mom, was there with a cousin and Jennifer's 2-year-old sister Sharon.
We drove back to Abitimo's house at about 9 p.m. Jennifer had barely stepped inside the house when her mother ran forward and the two hugged tightly. They let go, laughing. They hugged some more. Break. Hug. Laugh. Hug. Did I mention bouncing? Jennifer was bouncing weith excitement. Jennifer's 5-year-old cousin hugged her too. But Sharon didn't remember Jennifer and would not go up to her.
Jennifer showed impressive patience in winning Sharon's favor. She held out her hand from across the room, took a step forward and stopped. She did this until she was right beside her with Sharon seeming at ease, though still shy. Incidentally, Regina has no picture of Jennifer before the rebel attack but, she said, Sharon looks just like Jennifer did when Jennifer was 2. I also can see a resemblance in the cousin, whose name I obviously can't remember at the moment.
Regina's mother is wowed by how different her daughter looks now.
"I am really, really happy," Regina said through an interpreter. "The hair was halfway up on her forehead on her head. Most of her hair was missing in the front. "Now it is almost normal," she said.
Jennifer's nose and lips are better-defined and much better looking. "Her eyes, they look more like a normal person," said Regina.
Jennifer is listening closely to her mother and to me when I describe the details of the six major surgeries on Jennifer's face and hand. Everyone in the room -- family of Jennifer, family of Abitimo, friends of both -- look fascinated as I talk about the wonders that DC-area Dr. Craig Dufresne performed on Jennifer's face and Dr. A. Lee Osterman of Philadelphia performed on her hand.
By 9:30 p.m., Jennifer had visited her school and had her reunions. She had eaten her first Acholi meal -- greens in a vegetable sauce that she ate with a local dish called posho. Posho is soft, mealy cornbread. Jennifer picked up a small ball of it in her hand, knead it between her forefinger and thumb, and then dip it in the sauce.
Michael and I left at 10 p.m. The evening was a vivid illustration, not just in love and longing for family, but in the importance of belonging somewhere. Jennifer and Uganda belong to each other.
