Children assuaging parenting yearning
It is the
dichotomy of perception between privilege and deprivation that at this end of viewing
things almost allows for the manifest evil of the past to be excused as a
function of those times.
What is
rarely considered is how singularly or even more certain experiences have
shaped character, shifted identity, and quite possibly left one fortunate, there
are positives and negatives, both of which need to be explored.
At the onset,
after reading about adoptions instigated from the Netherlands for presumed
orphans from Bangladesh against whom paperwork suggested tragedy or adversity,
the apparently falsified documentation has been exposed as such.
The adoptees are
now finding out they have or had parents, siblings, and relationships from
which they were extricated for the market satisfaction (it had to have money
involved, a kind of transaction that everyone deigns to forget) of the craving
for parenting in the West. [The
Guardian: The stranger across from me was my sister: how one adoptee uncovered
a tragic past]
Every kind
of living away from kin
It is in a
spectrum, some situations not as bad as others in adoptions, fostering with the
extreme case of farming, childminding, care homes, or orphanages, if I were to
limit the scope of the options available for caring for children over a generation
ago. [The
Guardian: ‘Farmed’: why were so many Black children fostered by white families
in the UK?]
The enthusiasm
with which I started to write soon was overwhelmed by the gravity of the
matter, it cannot be captured in a single story, rather, it is the bringing
together of many experiences that can begin to create a picture of what really
went on. I decided to press on if only to start a conversation.
The
privilege over deprivation construct
I remember a
friend on a walk around the shores of the lagoon bordering the University of
Lagos saying to me that those of us born abroad just seem to have a daring and
boldness that others do not naturally exhibit.
In myself,
when I was in Nigeria, I suppose there were exhibitions of precociousness,
questioning, challenge, and fearlessness that might have set me apart, at
times advantageous, especially in expressing oneself but could be disadvantageous
in not understanding norms, values, traditions, or the culture.
“As an
adoptee you often hear, ‘You’re lucky, now you have a good life.’ But you
cannot really compare the two,” says Kana. “In one sense I feel lucky
that I have the best of both worlds. But nothing makes up for the loss you had
to endure. Because I lost my family and my real identity.” Kana
Verheul in the article.
My father
would say, “You have always thought like a westerner.”, my brother did
say in passing, “You are not one of us.” The fact is I belonged without
actually belonging. The sanguineous ties are pulled asunder by other influences
that in the experience of life can make us such radically different people.
The boy
was starved
My parents as
students in England had me quite early in many ways, I arrived 10 weeks
prematurely, which meant for survival I was in incubation in another city for
over 2 months.
Then
primarily, my father was here for his accountancy qualifications and my mother
had to work and, in the process, get an education too, not necessarily
encouraged by him, at least, that is the story I am told.
My mother
travelled around England into Wales seeking the appropriate kind of family to
care for me whilst they were busy trying to better themselves. I cannot
remember any of the people I supposedly stayed with, we called them nannies, but all the times I had with
my parents in that childhood along with their friends and the siblings of their friends who were babysitters, I seem to recall.
One narrative
I heard from my mum was on a visit back home from my foster parents, I was
sneaking out to the refrigerator to steal food. She caught me a few times and
could not understand why I would be stealing food until she found out that my
wonderful foster parents were starving me. And these were people paid for the
service, it was not a charity mission.
Radical
consequences of childhood experiences
The
consequences of the fear of hunger registered and were impactful long after we
returned to Nigeria, and I was living with my parents along with having house
helps to manage things when they were away. I do remember snatching food out of
lunch boxes of fellow students, in fact, there were a few of us that did that.
Indeed, on balance,
my whole life has been a wonderful experience marked by interesting events and
circumstances. There are very many character traits and inflexions I could
almost definitely trace to something that happened in my childhood, some of
which I have written about in my blogs. I do need to get a move on with my story.
However, what
is evident from many of the stories people are sharing is the illegality and
criminality that thrived in the trading of children for different levels of
convenience in the view that the children were being given a better life to the
exclusion of an environment that would give them an identity or present them
with a serious identity crisis.
Finding
our way regardless
We almost
always faced some sort of discrimination because of differences, however, minute
and I recall the time a slow development of my motor skills left me not as
agile as one would expect someone of my age it annoyed my dad and he
coined a phrase for it that suggested a kind of impairment, someone at school
somewhat deduced I was prematurely born and decided to make fun of me, he never
did again, after I was finished.
Concerning the topic in discussion, it was my accent that set me apart as probably
those of a mixed-race provenance would have been, then talk of brown babies or
children in largely white neighbourhoods and schools. At home or abroad and
there was no clear definition of either, you tried to fit in, you could not
account for the cards you were dealt, you played the game you were in.
Closure for
many would simply be coming to terms with who they are, and possibly finding
out about relationships they never knew they had. It is unlikely that any of
the people who were involved in the abuse of the children would ever see
justice, even if they are still alive.
References
British Council:
Farming (film)
Related
Blogs
Blog - Childhood:
The pupils of Corona School, Shamrock House, Bukuru, Jos
Blog - Childhood:
The pupils of Corona School, Shamrock House, Bukuru, Jos - II
Blog - Childhood:
The pupils of Corona School, Shamrock House, Bukuru, Jos - III
Blog - Childhood:
Standing up to the powerful
Blog - Nigeria:
Gone is the Jos I knew
Blog - Childhood:
My aunts saw red
Blog - Childhood:
The fruits of a chicken napping dog
Blog - Childhood:
Driving the languages of sacrifice
Blog - The
masterpieces of memory
Blog - Even
more memories of a child
Blog - More memories
of a child
