Poston's 2006 Kazakhstan Trip: Introducing...Calvin Sumners Poston!

Well, it finally happened! Our little boy is officially ours and is now officially named “Calvin Sumners Poston,” although you really couldn’t tell now because in all existing records it is written in the Cyrillic script of the Russian language, and probably some documents are in Kazakh as well. Our remaining time here will be spent waiting on the various documents to be translated to English, for the creation of Cal’s passport and through the waiting periods built into the process. Still it looks like November 25th when we will arrive in Atlanta and simultaneously Cal will become a citizen of the United States of America. Like his big sister and big brother, he will maintain dual-citizenship for eighteen years.

The courthouse in Esik was a small, two story structure. It was heavier on security as I remember my past two Kazakhstan court experiences, but they were pre-9/11. Believe me when I say that 09/11/2001 changed everything, everywhere. We occasionally get emails from our embassy here that notifies us of the threat level in Central Asia. Even though Afghanistan is about as close to us as from Ringgold is to Macon, Kazakhstan is a relative calm in the regional storm. We are safe and we are cautious.

Of course, I have instructed Alina and Mac to keep their voices down when we are out and about, so as to not draw attention to ourselves. The other day, Mac started talking out loud on one of our walks. Alina chastised him, and suprised me by saying "Mac! You are blowing our cover!" What a spy team they would make.

Back to court...

We were led into a very small courtroom on the first floor. We had met our interpreter, Helen, the night before at our apartment, where she went over our prepared speeches and designated the “breaks” when she would interpret the sentences that we had just spoken. Helen was a tall, attractive young woman from Taldy Korgan, a small town three hours from Almaty.

Then, a slim young man in a dark suit and black turtleneck shirt came in. He was the prosecutor, who had the job of scrutinizing our papers and drilling us with questions about our paperwork. Lucky for us, he seemed to be totally taken with Helen. This distraction seemed to work some magic for us. He was no problem at all.

The representative of the local Department of Education came, as well as the director of the Baby House in Esik. Finally, the court’s secretary (who keeps the minutes of the proceedings) came in, followed by the Judge. The Judge was a serious man, looked to be in his forties, and dressed in a long robe. He was very professional in his demeanor.

He opened the proceedings and called me to the stand first. I started from my prepared remarks. I had included the provision that back at home, I was a judge for cases that dealt with deprived children. I admit, it was a blatant effort for some “professional courtesy.” I even alluded to the fact that for two years I was a prosecutor, but I don’t think the prosecutor was paying much attention. He kept looking and smiling at Helen.

Then the questions started. I was only a couple of paragraphs into a three page double-spaced statement that had been carefully reviewed by our coordinator and the interpreter. I was asked did I "trust the Court." That was the easiest question. After a few other questions, I was asked to sit down and Alison was brought up. Many of you recall in November, 2000, in the freezing steppe of Kokshetau, Alison first revealed to me her courtroom finesse. Again, she did it in Almaty a few weeks later. Again, she did not disappoint. She was perfect in her presentation.

Many of the questions from the judge, and eventually even the prosecutor got involved, were quite personal. We were prepared, however. Overall, it was obvious that they really did care about the children in their charge.

Finally, the Judge took a long break, and some of the eight participants took the opportunity for a break and left the room. This left Alison, Helen, the prosecutor and I in the courtroom. The prosecutor came over and wanted to speak in English. He asked me if it would be possible for him to come to the U.S. and practice as an attorney. Luckily, I had some information on this as I had followed my good friend from law school R. N. Rao (a/k/a “The Haj”) as he came to the U.S. from India and established himself as an attorney. I did not tell him that since, Rao has become a quite accomplished commercial actor! I don't think he could have believed it.

We had pleasant conversation (thanks to Helen) and then finally the Judge and secretary and everyone came back to the room and the Judge announced the decision. The little boy we had already let into our hearts was now officially a part of our family forever.

As the judge left the bench, he came over and grabbed my hand and called me "Comrade." I suppose the professional courtesy angle did help us out a bit!

On the drive back to Almaty from Esik, we looked forward to being with our gang. Liza was faring well with all three of our children, although Cal, who is teething, was having some issues.

I had been explaining our Halloween traditons to Emil, our driver. Suddenly, he stopped the car on the roadside and pointed out my side of the window. "Pumpkins?" he asked. Sure enough, two faintly orange gourds were displayed in front of a rural home. We got out to make the deal. The pumkins were not the ususal shape, but we were lucky to find them. I ended up buying five of the pear-shaped pumpkins. We plan to make some Kazakh Jack'O'Lanterns this weekend!

When we got back to Almaty, we got word that there were THREE FedEx packages waiting for us at the Altynbaeva Sisters office. Alina, Mac and Cal say "Thank you Grandmother, Aunt Carolyn and Cousin Anne!" Anne sent us some DVD's for all of us to enjoy, while Grandmother Poston send the children some Halloween candy and other special treats. And who else could have sent an American football (I think the only one in Kazakhstan) from Northwest High?

It was a beautiful day, overall. - McP

(Photo below: Alison and Helen, our interpreter.)