Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The flight home is about 28 hours. Garen hadn’t even landed in America yet, when life as we had known it in Uganda, changed abruptly. The suddenness ripped through my mind and left me breathless, stumbling, unable to catch my breath or my step.

I am autistic. And I was about to be called to be a hero for this tiny person looking up at me and for myself too. For eleven days I would have nothing to rely on apart from myself. For eleven days I would not be able to “be” autistic. I would have to mask constantly and that would ultimately take a terrible toll on my mental health.

My rock, my person I could lean on and rely on to be a steady and present touchstone, was in the air somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean as soldiers flooded the capital city of Uganda. There had been a steady presence of soldiers already. But I was unprepared for how many soldiers were about to occupy Kampala. The presidential elections were twelve days away and they were there to make sure the citizens voted the way they were supposed to.

Tanks bigger than anything I had ever seen were parked all around the city to intimidate. Squads of angry soldiers marched the streets all day long. And the pop, pop, pop of distant gunfire was something I had to learn how to sleep through at night. Our driver schooled me on never, ever looking a Valentine Boy in the eyes. They could kill anyone for any reason and never even be reprimanded. My being American would not save me from these elite soldiers in the red berets.

The very first appointment I had to endure alone was at the medical office. A large government compound, now overrun by even more soldiers than before. I stood in line behind one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had a baby in her arms and a toddler hanging on to her other hand. She was crying and pleading with the soldiers as they led her husband away. They began to laugh at her and tell her, “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt him.” But they did. She and her husband were refugees. They had no protection under the law. I stood there trying not to see. Trying not to hear the screams. I was so scared. I knew these men. Had joked and talked with them. And when they got back from wherever they took that poor man they immediately began to laugh and joke with me again. Just like nothing had happened. Being autistic was actually a blessing in moments like these. I could just slip on a mask to survive the moment. I had been doing that my whole life.

Once I walked into the waiting room, I saw a familiar face. A man from Australia who was there with his son. Garen and I had talked to him on multiple occasions, and I was so glad to see him. He informed me it was his last appointment, and they had their tickets for home already. I think he could see the panic on my face because he began to tell me it would be me very soon.

Shortly after, I had an appointment with our lawyer. She gave me pages of things to memorize. Dates and names of people and places that were difficult to pronounce. I had to know it all. I could be called for an appointment at the U.S. Embassy any day. Or not. Who knew?

I studied at night by the light of the TV. I had to keep the sound down because I couldn’t understand the language and it just made me feel so far from home. But the flickering light was perfect to study by as Timos slept on the bed behind me.

I got a call early one morning. I had to show up to the Embassy in less than an hour to turn in our paperwork. I frantically called our lawyer, and she sent her assistant to take me. Once you pass security you are in a bricked in courtyard. You have to place your belongings in a locker and then go to a window to give your name. I was surprised that the U.S. Embassy was filled with Ugandan soldiers. I felt so small, so inconsequential. I had been tasked with getting this tiny child out of this increasingly hostile country and I felt so inadequate.

I was questioned for an hour. When I got back outside, the assistant grilled me even more and frantically and then got on the phone and spoke in rapid Lugandan. I couldn’t keep up with the conversation, so I just sat back in the car and held Timos while he slept. I suddenly realized we were not heading back to the hotel. I was told we were going to see my lawyer.

She asked me the same questions as her assistant. I did not understand why they were so upset. I had knocked my interview out of the park and told them so. That’s when they told me that was NOT my interview. This appointment was supposed to be a five-minute paperwork drop off and they had no idea what was going on. But they began to prep me for having Timos’ Visa rejected and what that would look like. I was told I would have to go to Kenya for court to appeal any rejection for Timos to leave the country. I had Uganda’s permission. It was the U.S. that was stalling now. I was beyond terrified.

That night I ordered dinner to the room so we could eat on our balcony overlooking the courtyard. It was so pretty looking over the treetops in the setting sun. We were even able to tune out the political propaganda speeches that were now ringing over speakers hung all over the city. Until a little lull in our giggly, silly dinner conversation, a phrase sank through my determination to dull it out. “We need to kill Americans. They are killing our children with the vaccines they send us. We need to shoot all white people in the head, on sight.” It went on and on. I sat there like one of those scenes in a movie where the character sits with their fork halfway to their mouth and then I moved.

I flung the patio door open. I lifted Timos out of his chair with one hand while grabbing the curtains and shutting them with my other. I crawled out to get our food and then bolted the door behind me once I was back in the room. I made us sit in a corner because I thought that might be safest.

I could barely see. My teeth were tingling. I was light-headed. Timos was screaming that he didn’t want me to be “hit in the head by the bad man”. As hard as I tried to keep myself strong, I broke. I began to sob. I was crying so hard it took me several minutes to call Garen. Even longer to explain what was happening.

Garen, just as out of his depth as I was, but helplessly half the world away, called the U.S. Embassy emergency number. My Ugandan cell phone was not working. I had gotten ahold of Garen through a messaging app. They got my information from him and told him to tell me to get a “go bag” ready in case they needed to move us quickly.

I packed one change of clothes apiece, our money, guardianship papers and court orders, passports, and some toys. It was everything that would fit in the bag. Timos then declared that he was going to protect me all night long. He got his little water gun. Filled it up and sat down next to me in bed, refusing to lay down. I pulled the laptop onto the bed and stuck in a Curious George DVD thinking he would fall asleep eventually.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I tried to stay awake, but I was so tired I did doze off. I woke up to terrified screams. Timos was sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide, hands clutching his chest just screaming. I grabbed him and held him as he said over and over, “Oh no! I fell asleep! I don’t want the bad man to get you! Oh no! Oh no!”

We had to order breakfast to the room because Timos refused to leave it. He barely let me open the door to get it! The one thing this little boy wanted more than anything else in the world was a Mommy. He had been praying for it. But he had been so scared that I would not stay that he had pushed me away. Now, faced with this new danger, he was going to fiercely fight for me. And in the fire of this terrifying trial a bond was forged. Strong, unbending, eternal. I will forever be grateful for this trauma because it accelerated our bonding period.

As we were finishing breakfast, I got a call from the Embassy. They told me that I needed to put Timos back in his old orphanage and leave the country. I was so shocked by the phone call. Horrified almost beyond speech. I refused. They kept pushing and I pushed back, hard. I told them that I would under no circumstances leave this country without my son. Ever. They were Americans, just like me, and couldn’t really make me do anything I didn’t want to. I had my Visa in order and the permission of the Ugandan government to be in their country. I had no intention of leaving alone.

Garen and my dad called our state senators and explained what was happening to us. And our state senators acted immediately. I was called in for my exit interview for Timos’ Visa right away. Again, I was encouraged to leave the country alone. I looked that woman in the eyes and told her no. She must have seen how deeply I meant it because she dropped it. For the moment.

She then said that on her daily call to Washington D.C. my name came up. That was surprising to me. Signs of my state’s senators making waves to get us home. Then she asked if I could meet with the security advisors for the Embassy after my interview with her.

I met with them and answered all their questions. They were aware of the faction calling for violence against Americans. Once again, they encouraged me to leave. Once again, I refused. I was not going to abandon my son to an uncertain political situation. He was four years old. For the love of God what was wrong with these people?

On the way back to the hotel a riot broke out right beside our car. Our amazing driver was able to get us out of there as the soldiers came running with their guns out. Once back in our room I called Garen and made him promise to come find Timos if something happened to me. I was becoming numb from the terror. Garen made me go over and over an escape route to an empty building near our hotel. He told me to go hide there with Timos if I needed to. Things were quickly turning into a made-for-TV movie.

The very next day Timos’ Visa was approved. They told me to get our plane tickets immediately so we could be gone before the presidential elections. They also wanted me to call them from the airport so they could be sure we were out of the country. They had finally believed me. The only way to get me out of that country was with Timos in my arms. The relief was discombobulating and profound.