Dear Friends,
This is a very difficult post to write, due to how deeply emotional the experiences of the last few days have been and also due to the complexity of the situation. I will try my best.
On my last flight from Lusaka to Lilongwe, my stomach was in knots. As we landed my heart started beating so fast. I strategically placed myself on the bus that took us from the plane to the airport, so I could be the first person in line at immigration. I was the second. As I hadn't checked any luggage, I was able to race through customs to be the very first person to exit the airport. I wanted no delay in seeing my baby!
I quickly scanned the crowd awaiting the passengers. No Dustin. No Margaret. No Moses. I ran upstairs. No one. I ran outside. No one. I convinced someone to let me use his phone and I called Dustin. His brother John answered (apparently I had been confused about what day he was leaving Malawi). Where are you guys, I asked. We're on our way, we'll be there soon, he said. Well hurry, I want to see Moses!
I waited outside the airport in the warm sun, waiting, and watching every car (there weren't many). I waited for 30 minutes. When Dustin did arrive, he parked instead of swinging by and just picking me up at the airport door. I grabbed my bags and hurried toward him. He was looking very tan and slim. He grinned at me in a sheepish, awkward way which I believed was due to his tardiness. We hugged and then he said he had some bad news. From the look on his face my mind immediately went to "Moses has died." He quickly said that Moses had been kidnapped by his grandfather just the day before. I broke down. I almost fell to the ground. Over the next few hours on our way to Balaka, Dustin shared the story.
Dustin, Margaret, Johanna (the birth mother) and Moses had all travelled together to Blantyre to visit the grandfather – to discuss his feelings on the child. Please remember that three months ago, when Moses was almost dead from starvation, the grandfather said he didn't care and wanted nothing to do with the child. He said this not only to Margaret, but to Johanna's friends (who had called him weeks before Margaret found the baby, to tell him his daughter was harming the child). They first dropped off Johanna to speak with him herself. After some time, Johanna called the others to come and chat with him. I don't have the time or energy to share all the details (plus I only know the few pieces that were relayed to me), but I can tell you that things got real ugly real fast. For the first 5 minutes or so the grandfather ignored them all, just playing solitare on his computer. Then he told Dustin that he was "disturbing him." Dustin said he hadn't come to disturb but to discuss the baby's future. I don't know exactly what happened next, but I know that it ended with the grandfather grabbing his own daughter's neck and shoving her outside, saying he had disowned her and that if she wanted to be involved with us whites then we were now responsible for her, that we would pay for her funeral. Now everyone was outside the house, standing just outside the gate. Margaret told Johanna to take Moses and walk down the road, that they would pick her up in a few minutes. She started off while Dustin and Margaret finished up with the grandfather. For whatever reason, Johanna turned back. And when she reached the house, the grandfather (at an opportune moment when Dustin was on the phone with Social Welfare and the others were discussing what to do next) grabbed Moses from his birth mother's arms, ran inside his house, and locked the door.
No one knew what to do. Johanna just wept and continued to do so for the next 18 hours. I knew her relationship with her father was estranged but I had no idea the extent of it. Apparently, months ago, she had said that she would rather have Moses die with her at home than let her father take care of him. Those are some harsh words. Harsh words for a harsh man.
So the group travelled back to Balaka, without Moses. The house was the most sullen place you could imagine, Dustin said. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was crying. Johanna stayed at our house that night. The following morning, Dustin drove the 3-4 hours to get me from the airport. He was confused about what day I was arriving (long story), which is why he was late. We dropped his brother John off at a local parish, where he would spend the night before flying out the following day. Dustin and I made the long trek back to Balaka. We called for Johanna to come the next morning. We all cried ourselves to sleep and cried ourselves awake.
The next morning, we had breakfast with the chief of our village. He and Margaret then went to the Balaka police to report what had happened. The pollice claimed they would call the grandfather. Now, remember, the grandfather himself is a policeman, and he's much higher ranking than anyone here in Balaka. Margaret says they are all afraid of him because he's in the 'special forces.' We knew that not much would come of this report.
We waited and waited all morning for Johanna to show. She finally arrived around noon. Margaret asked her what she wanted to do. With tears streaming down her face, she said she wanted to go and take Moses back – that he should be here in Balaka with all of us. I won't tell you all the details at this point, for legal reasons, but I'll say that we embarked on what is now known as "Operation Exodus." Johanna went to the house when she knew her father was at work. Her cousin (I believe?) was there watching Moses. Johanna took Moses from her and hurried out to the street to catch a minibus. Our friend Dalitso was there waiting for her, to help her make her getaway. She was standing there with Moses in her arms, about to board the bus, with Dalitso there helping her… and for whatever reason, she hesitated. She said, No, let's get the next bus. Meanwhile, some women at the local telephone bureau, friends and neighbors of the grandfather, saw her escaping with the child, they ambushed her, stole Moses from her arms and dragged them both back to the house. Dalitso, having already boarded the next bus which was leaving as this was going on, had no choice but to return to us and relay what had happened.
We don't know all of the details of what happened at the house. We know that Johanna's father was summoned home from work. We assume he beat her. We know he had his own daughter arrested for "stealing" her own child. He is the thief! He stole the child from the mother's own arms! So she was arrested and later released. But the police did not demand the grandfather give back her child. (On a side note, everyone here in Balaka – the police, Social Welfare, Victim's Support Unit – everyone says that he must return the child to his mother. But this man is above the law.) The Social Welfare Officer (SWO) in Blantyre said the grandfather can have no claim on the child if it's against the mother's wishes. If this were happening in America, the grandpa would be on the evening news. Has anyone seen this man?
After the police released her, Johanna was stranded. It was night now and she had no money (Dalitso was holding their travel money) to get home. She phoned us and we arranged for her to stay with someone who would bring her back to Balaka in the morning. We assume she is now here in Balaka. We are just waiting to hear from her.
Last night, the house was in tears. I was sobbing and shouting. Dustin cried like I've never seen before. Margaret held tears of anger and sorrow. Dalitso was crying, upset that he had held Moses in his arms that day but had failed to get him home. And poor little Fatsani (Margaret's young nephew) cried and cried (Dustin said Moses just loved him and would laugh every time he saw him). Fatsani said he wished the grandfather would just die. He's an old man, why can't he just die?
Last night, it began to feel like we were really losing Moses. Not just me and Dustin, but Margaret, Dalitso, Johanna, Fatsani, the chief… Our friend in Portland has said that she felt Moses was "for the community." That couldn't be more true. He has been deeply loved by all those around him. And everyone we know is deeply grieving. We know (from phone conversations) that Moses has cried ever since he's been with "those people." He has a high fever and is sick. The cousin told Margaret that she was going to take him for vaccinations. The thing is, they don't have his health record there. I made Margaret call her back and say that they COULD NOT give him any more vaccinations until they had record of what he had already been given.
It no longer looks like we will be adopting Moses. And I say that with a heavy heart and tearful eyes. This story is no longer about us adopting Moses. It's now about making sure Moses is safe and well cared for. Everyone involved knows that he will neither be safe nor well cared for with the grandfather. Someone who has a cruel enough heart to (months ago) disown his grandson and leave him for dead, disown his daughter, choke her, and have her arrested – is not fit to care for anyone. The man, we've learned, even left his wife on her deathbed to travel to Northern Malawi for a few weeks. She died of tuberculosis, alone, in the hospital. He came back just in time to bury her.
The grandpa is a Tumbuka (tribe). The southerners here believe that Tumbukas (from the north) are mean, nasty people. Whenever we tell people that the grandfather is a Tumbuka – they tssk and shake their heads and know that we're in for real trouble.
So where does this all leave us? Margaret and Johanna are taking the grandfather to court – to return the child back here to Balaka. This will likely take a long time. Longer than the 3.5 weeks I have here in Malawi. We know that the grandfather will never give permission for us to adopt the child. There is now no question about that. We are at least hoping that either Margaret or Johanna will maintain custody of Moses. It's our hope that Johanna will accept to live with Margaret and that together they will care for the child.
Where does this leave me and Dustin? Besides completely broken-hearted (which we knew and accepted as a strong possibility)… We sense that there's a greater plan at work. We think that there's another child waiting for us. One with no mother and no father and no grandfather. One staying at an orphanage. It's very hard to accept that the storyline may be shifting. And it's almost impossible to think about another child. But the fact is we came here for two reasons: (1) To make sure Moses was cared for. (2) To adopt a child. We originally believed the answer to those two things came in one package. But we recognize that we may do both, separately, and that that is okay.
I'm sorry to deliver this story with so little emotion. I honestly can't handle writing about this any more deeply at this time. So here we are. And here the story continues…
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