I have parents who love me a lot. I am dark-skinned, but my parents are white. Because of my colour, people often say things which hurt. Being adopted is not always a joy. So we, Africans and Indians, we must unite. To make Europe understand that people should not be scared if somebody's skin is a different colour. I come from India and I don't know my real family. Now I have one here and I am their daughter. Belgium is really nice. —Rashmi Payon, 9.
RASHMI, an Indian adopted by a Belgian couple, was among the winners of a European Children's Poetry contest organised to mark the European Year Against Racism. And as an increasing number of Belgians adopt children of Indian origin, Rashmi's sense of confusion and rootlessness is being echoed around the country. "I feel like a foreigner everywhere," says Sunanda Gerard, 25, voicing a sentiment shared by many adopted Indian children in Belgium. "There is something in me, I don't have words to describe it. It's a different mentality, a different approach to life," concurs Benoit Parmentier, 17.
It's the difficult mix of multicultural moorings and the insecurities associated with adoption which makes their adjustment even more difficult. As Sunanda admits, "being adopted is not easy. I see things differently from my parents and friends." It often has nothing to do with the material aspect of their lives or the love they have undeniably received from their families. It is something far deeper, their sense of belonging. "I haven't had any love in my life," laments Siddhartha Selleri.
"I have had everything that money can buy, but no love in my childhood." His story is probably a worst-case scenario of what can go wrong with cross-cultural adoption. Things didn't bode well from the start. He was adopted at 12, which was too late in life for him to integrate fully in an alien environment. To add to that, his mother was unmarried and had a full-time job.
"I had a baby-sitter who helped me with my French, taught me how to cycle and swim," he recalls. "But I had no one to go to with my problems." He was often left behind on holidays and made to do household chores. "There are things that happened in his childhood that are constantly eating at him," says his wife Amita. As a result, today Siddhartha is a vociferous crusader for adopted children.
Significantly, racial discrimination per se is not that much of a problem. There are the odd comments about "chocolate babies", but by and large Asians are not the targets of racist remarks. "I've never had a problem. In fact, when I say I'm Indian, I get a very positive reaction," affirms Benoit. Sunanda and her adopted sister, who grew up in small towns like Mons and Ohain where they were pretty much the only coloured children, too had no problems.
However, when Siddhartha arrived in Belgium in 1975, people were somewhat less tolerant and he had kids at school playing cruel pranks on him and passing hurtful remarks. But Siddhartha's case seems more the exception than the rule. Most of the others have had moderately happy and normal lives—a lot of love and caring, a fair share of problems and a world of opportunity.
And if the children have a tough adjustment at hand, so do the parents. "You have to appreciate and accept them (the children) as they are," says Annik Van der Biest, who along with her husband has adopted three Indians. "Often, children available for adoption do not come from the best circumstances and are sometimes not able to do well at school. So parents must not have any expectations and should not try to fulfill their wishes through their children."
Then there is the India connection which at some time or the other haunts both children and parents. For some it is just a niggling curiosity; for some it is a more deep-seated need to find themselves, to identify a food preference, a behavioural pattern; for some it becomes an adopted lifestyle or a reawakening of the conscience. For example, Sindhu, Sanjeevani and Santosh have opened up India for their parents. "We didn't adopt our children because of an interest in India. Our interest in India came through our children," says Mon Van der Biest. "We took the decision to bring them to Belgium. It was not their choice." From the very beginning, the Van der Biests decided to maintain a link with India. Namaste, their Indian artifacts shop in Aalst, is the result of their first family trip to the subcontinent in 1995. It was one way of keeping the children in constant touch with India.
