From: Berhane Habtemariam (Berhane.Habtemariam@gmx.de)
Date: Wed Sep 16 2009 - 06:09:27 EDT
Heartbreak in Ethiopia
By Mary Ann Jolley for Foreign Correspondent
<http://www.abc.net.au/foreign/> Foreign Correspondent | abc.net.au/foreign
Sep 16, 2009 6:07am AEST
<http://mpegmedia.abc.net.au/news/audio/am/200909/20090915-ETHIOPIAN-ADOPTIO
N-EAM.mp3> Audio: Ethiopian children exploited by US adoption agencies (AM)
Sit for any time in the foyer of the Hilton Hotel in Ethiopia's capital,
Addis Ababa, and you'll see a procession of Americans and Europeans
wandering from their rooms across the marble floor to the restaurant or
swimming pool with their precious new possessions - babies or infants
they've just adopted.
I'd never really thought a great deal about international adoption until I
was confronted with the scene as I checked into the hotel in September last
year.
I'd arrived to film a story for ABC TV's Foreign Correspondent program about
the drought-induced famine.
The longer I stayed, the more I started to think about the adopted children
- where they were from and how they must feel to suddenly find themselves
alone with someone whose skin colour doesn't match theirs and whose language
they don't speak.
They're dressed in alien attire - a brand new Red Sox baseball cap and
T-shirt with some cute and cheery foreign slogan plastered across the front
- and in an environment like none they've ever seen, when just out on the
street is the one they know so well, where their extended family and fellow
countrymen reside.
There was something incredibly disturbing about seeing international
adoption en masse. All these children about to leave their country to begin
a new life in a faraway place, disconnected from their heritage and culture.
Out on the street where poverty and hardship prevail, my attitude softened.
While I was filming at the produce market in Addis Ababa a little urchin
appeared beside me.
She had short hair and was wearing a torn, faded dress with sash tails
hanging loosely from the waist at both sides, and shoes with no laces.
Her toes exposed where the leather had worn through. She would have been
about nine or 10, but she was already working; her job was to sweep up the
rubbish in the markets.
"Miss," she said, "Americana?"
"No." I nodded with a smile as I rushed off to catch up with the crew.
"Where are you from?" She was at my side again.
"Australia," I replied, thinking in my ignorance that her next question
would be, "Where's Australia?" But, no, she knew it was the land of the
kangaroos and wanted to know if I could take her back so she could go to
school.
"I would love to," I said, impressed by her request. "But unfortunately I
can't." I was hoping, I must admit, that would be enough to send her and her
friends back to work, but she persisted.
"Do you have any pens for me?"
"Sorry, I don't," I replied, quite surprised she was asking for pens and
not, as is usually the case, money.
"What about paper? Do you have any paper for me for school?"
I didn't have anything on me because I'd been told to leave my bag in the
car to avoid pickpockets. I felt terrible that I couldn't help her.
Here was this child desperate to write and learn, but instead of being at
school she was dragging rotten fruit and vegetables from the mud and slush
between the stalls.
What obvious potential she had. Imagine what she could achieve if I could
take her back to school in Australia. Perhaps adoption is the answer, I
thought to myself.
But that was an emotional reaction. It would be almost a year before I would
have the chance to dwell seriously on the subject. In July I was on a plane
heading back.
Seedy underbelly
Ethiopia is not a signatory to the Hague Convention, which requires
international adoptions be used only as a last resort after all domestic
adoption options have been exhausted.
There is overwhelming evidence to prove it is far better for a child to
remain with its family or, if that's not possible, with another family in
his or her own country than to be shipped off overseas. But in Ethiopia
today it seems it's not about what's best for the child, but rather meeting
the demand of foreigners wanting a child.
There are more than 70 private international adoption agencies operating in
Ethiopia. None of them are Australian. In Australia, international adoptions
are a Government affair and strict regulations help to keep the process
transparent. Almost half the agencies in Ethiopia are unregistered, some
doing whatever they can to find children to satisfy the foreign market.
While there are more than 5 million legitimate orphans in Ethiopia, a large
proportion of these will never be considered for international adoptions.
Foreigners prefer younger children - babies to five-year-olds. Older
children or those with health problems are more difficult to pitch. So while
many children languish in underfunded and overcrowded orphanages, some
international adoption agencies are out spruiking in villages asking
families to relinquish their children for adoption.
It's a phenomenon known as "harvesting" and it's shocking to see.
A DVD sent to families wanting to adopt by an American adoption agency,
Christian World Adoption, shows one of the agency's workers in full flight
surrounded by families and children in a remote community in the south of
the country, where the vast majority are evangelical Christians.
"If you want your child to go to a Christian American family, you may stay.
If you don't want your child to go to America, you should take your child
away," she says.
The DVD goes on for some hours with the woman introducing each child offered
for adoption one at a time. They sit on a bench in between her and their
parents or guardians.
"Here are two brothers, but only one is available at the moment," she says
for one family. For the next she tells how "it's very hard for a widow to
care for her children in this culture".
"Oh no, you mustn't pick your nose," she says to a child. She then points
out a rash on another's face and reassures the viewer it isn't permanent and
that it can be healed with treatment. All children are asked to sing the
alphabet song made famous on Sesame Street. It reeks of a new colonialism.
It's hard to believe it's happening in the 21st century.
Parents are often unaware of what they're doing when they offer their
children for adoption. They're led to believe they'll hear from their
children regularly and their children will be well educated and eventually
bring the family wealth.
But in reality, the parents and families never hear from their children and
receive little information about where their children have gone. We filmed a
room full of grieving mothers who gave their children for adoption after
agencies promised they'd be given regular updates.
Some were even told the agency would help support their remaining children.
Their stories are gut-wrenching.
No one disputes there is a real need for international adoptions, but for
the sake of the children and adoptive parents there needs to be some
protection from unscrupulous agencies who purport to be driven by
humanitarian interests, but in reality are stuffing their pockets with dirty
cash.
-Watch Foreign Correspondent on ABC1 at 8pm tonight. Read the full version
of A Heartbreaking Assignment at the
<http://www.abc.net.au/foreign/content/2009/s2686187.htm> Foreign
Correspondent website.
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