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Sunday, November 15 2009 | Compassion

Where did I come from?

When mum decided to voluntarily give me the answer to this question, I was about twelve years old and she walked me through the standard text “Where did I Come From?” by Peter Mayle.  There wasn’t much more to the story than biology.  I share the same chromosomes and culture as my mum and nan.  I knew the house my mum lived in as a kid and where my nan was married and where my extended family resided.  I already knew my immediate ancestry came from Essendon.

Throughout my life I have often contemplated adoption.  I can remember, as early as the time I read the aforementioned book, envisaging my future family including children who I innately knew were not genetically connected to me.

I now find myself a short distance away from the possibility of being able to adopt – an exciting prospect for someone who has researched sperm donors, haploidisation and other ways of creating an ‘alternative’ family – whatever that is in relation to your perception of a ‘normal’ family.

Independent of my underlying interest in adoption, last week I was asked by a volunteer to perform for the children at a local orphanage.  I was delighted to be asked and looked forward to meeting the children.

The orphanage is home for 80+ children, both disabled and able-bodied. The disabled children attend school on-site while the other children attend the local government school.  Though government run, an independent charity provides additional assistance to ensure all of the children have a quality of life, are given an opportunity to be educated and have regular health care.

I performed for around 20 children with varying disabilities including cerebral palsy, downs syndrome and hydrocephalus.  Their enthusiasm and joyousness were entirely contagious – not only did I perform some of Vietnam’s favourite English pop songs, but the children also performed for me, songs in English, Vietnamese and French!  What a treat!

Trying to sleep that night became difficult as two scenes from the day’s events played over in my mind.

As we left the orphanage, our host was kind enough to give us a quick tour of the grounds and we were able to say good-night to some of the children who were going to bed.  In one room however, the children were out numbered by Konica Minolta wielding tourists crouching awkwardly by the children’s beds, smiling for their Facebook friends.  I couldn’t believe it.  As we left the bedroom, in shock, we were faced with another two tourists in their early twenties – camera in hand – asking where all the children were.  Unable to assure my own diplomacy, I kept my mouth shut.

Through no fault of the independent charity, the government officials who run this orphanage have turned it into somewhat of a tourist destination in an effort to derive donations – which the administration undoubtedly receive.  How much of these donations actually reach the children directly is unknown, but in my opinion fairly self-evident.

What I just can’t get over is that there are people who, whilst on holiday, actually want to go and take a tour of an orphanage and have their photograph taken alongside an abandoned, disabled child.  Why?  I’d really like that question answered because I just don’t get why you would want to invade the privacy and dignity of these children for even five minutes – for the sake of what?  A happy snap to post on Facebook to create the illusion that they’re so caring they took time-out of their holiday to visit the disabled children’s zoo?  Maybe I’ve spent too long in a tourist town, but the ignorance displayed by so many tourists is simply embarrassing.

My rant aside (I feel much better for getting that off my chest – thanks for reading), I was more personally stuck by comments made by another volunteer, on our walk home.  I inevitably broached the orphanage-as-tourist-destination question with her and this lead to a discussion about adoption of the children.

She passionately put forth the argument against international adoption for several reasons.  Many of the children of middle primary school age and above have developed extremely strong connections to their friends and carers, who are now essentially their family.  At the orphanage they have a sense of community, of culture.  They belong.  Children have been adopted from the orphanage, leaving siblings behind, breaking apart families, displacing identities.

When these children ask where they came from, though their biological parents may not be present, they are surrounded by their culture, the heritage of their country and their people dating back more than 4000 years.  Yes, four THOUSAND years.  As a resident of a country with a cultural heritage I do not belong to, I could never possibly fathom the impact of being removed from a life that runs so old through the veins of every inhabitant.

Is my desire to adopt altogether altruistic or am I pandering to my ego?  If I were to adopt, could I ever truly answer the question “Mummy, where did I come from?”.  What is ‘a better life’, what are ‘better opportunities’?

My Konica Minolta “we-just-came-to-check-out-the-orphanage” contemporaries probably gawk at the simple life so many millions of people lead here in Vietnam.  But the question needs to be asked, are they unhappy or discontented with their own lives?  In the case of orphans, to whose perceived benefit is it to remove a child from their family, their culture, their country?

These are questions I need to answer.