Verslag adoptiekind geboren in São Paulo
I was born in Sao Paolo, Brasil in 1982 in a maternity hospital.
Together with my older sister I was transferred to a Dutch farmer family for adoption.
There we would start a new life full with love and care. In the first years it seemed to go well. Our entire new family came to see us as did the people in the neighborhood. They were very curious to see two dark children in a plain white village.
We took Dutch lessons to integrate.
However, soon things turned bad with my sister. She did not accept her new parents and she only spoke of our mom in Brasil. I was 5 years old at the time and too young to understand. My sister ran away from home very often and whenever she came back my parents started to yell and scream at her.
The yelling and the screaming didn’t keep her from running. She even started to prostitute herself at tender age of 9.The
verbal abuse turned into physical abuse. Sometimes I witnessed father sitting on top of my sister holding her mouth shut and beating her. All I could do was stand and watch. This became a daily event.
I remember the first time mother beat me. I was standing watch for my sister who had a date with her boyfriend. I was supposed to look out for mother. After a while mother found us and dragged us home.
She was furious. I was sent to my room where she beat me. At that time I was 5 years old and could only cry in pain.
My sister often tries to contact Child Protective Services but got brutally punished for trying. Many times my sister screamed she wanted to go back to our mom in Brasil. On which our father and mother reacted very aggressively.
(Quote)-I am your mother, you hear me!!! ME!!!- And beat us severely, grabbed both of us by the hairs and slammed our heads together. (Quote)-I am your mother; your mother in Brasil is a whore!!!
Also they forced us to eat disgusting things, often while we were gagging. If we didn’t finish our plate we were sent upstairs and the next day they would give us what we didn’t eat the day before until it was finished.
My sister was raped multiple times by acquaintances which I witnessed once. Our mother never notified the police. It was obvious we were worth nothing to them.
In 1992 my sister was placed in a closed boarding school.
I was alone now.
I started stealing; it began with candy from the cupboard. Even though I got caught and beaten many times for it, I didn’t stop. After a while I started taking money from mother’s purse and went to the store to buy candy. Until she found out. I came home and she literally wanted to break my legs. She surmised me to lie down and actually tried to break my legs. But luckily wasn’t able to. I remember having to work on the farm. I was taught how to castrate the piglets, how to burn off the tails. I will never forget the screaming of the piglets.
I developed blather problems and wet my bed at night. Whenever she came in my room and saw I wet my bed she screamed (quote) - Get out of bed, you nasty girl, pull your pants down now!!!!-I started to cry and refused to pull my pants down. She came up to me, tore my pants and knickers off and repeatedly spanked me. She went downstairs and came back with a bucket and ordered me to pee in the bucket. I was locked up in my room and I could only cry. The bucket didn’t prevent me from peeing in bed, again she was furious and grabbed my hair and cursed me out. While she forced my face into the wet bed. (Quote)-Nice huh this nasty piss!!!- My face was abraded and ruined. In this condition I went to school the next day and my teacher asked me what happened to my face. I was afraid to tell the truth and sold them a white lie. I remember the next day mother was forcing me again into the wet bed, after that she dragged me into the shower, took a washcloth and started washing me very coarsely.
(Quote)-You dirty rat, filthy whore, tonight you are wearing a diaper!!!!- My inner thighs were hurting so bad, my skin was also abraded. That night I had to wear a diaper, my stepbrothers were laughing at me and for punishment I had to sleep with the pigs in the barn. Whenever we had visit she turned into a caring mother.
Father often took long baths after work, sometimes he wanted me to wash his back even though I did not want to. When I finished washing his back, he made me wash his front including genitals. All this awoke our sexuality at a very young age and I even voluntary performed sexual acts including intercourse. This behavior was not discouraged at all.
Father and mother always walked the house naked and so did we.
My sister often tried to end her own life. One time I saw her try to push a butcher knife in her stomach. Father tried to take the knife away while mother was screaming (quote)-This is all your own fault-.After my sister’s transfer to boarding school, I wasn’t allowed to visit her. I hardly ever saw her. During visits I was locked up in my room. We were bullied and mocked by everyone in the village and school because we had to wear our brother’s hand-me-downs. My teacher at school noticed my strange behavior and the marks of physical abuse. We started talking, I finally told her everything and asked her (quote)-Would you be my mom? - She was alarmed and arranged a legal guardian.
I was removed from my foster parents and the following years I went from one family to another. I felt like a reject, never welcome and never at home. One time I was placed in an institution for heavily mentally impaired. I never contacted father and mother ever again. The road I travelled was filled with highs and lows. I felt down many times but always crawled back up. The wall I pulled up around myself became higher and higher. I lost every trust in people. The following 3 years I went through a bad depression. I even became suicidal. I wondered how on earth it was possible for these people to adopt children. If my real mother would be dead, she would turn in her grave. Adoption in general is taken much too lightly. People tend to adopt out of their own need instead of the child’s. They are torn away from their families and homeland, strangers become their parents and a new culture is forced up on them. I really do not understand why.
I’d rather die.
When I became 28 years old, I told a friend I would end my life at age 30. I became more self-destructive and started to use drugs. I was ready to leave this earth; too many times I broke down. But then a miracle happened, someone caring came into my life and saved me. This woman taught me how to love, how to stand tall land picked me up when I was down.
I became a real member of her family. I never ever felt so happy in my life. Still life is hard on me, I was already too damaged.
A half year ago my quest for my biological family started. I visited my adoption parents after 17 years and hoped they could tell me more about my past and background.
The only thing they had were our Brazilian passports. It continues to amaze me that these people could tell me nothing. They were the people who brought us here.
My sister is marked by this heavy life. Mentally confused and even become schizophrenic. In 2001 she became mother of a little boy. I’ve seen my nephew once. The Child Protection Service became legal guardian. Our contact is very disturbed which really hurts deep inside.
After all I often tried to continue my search for my biological mother.
Somewhere I knew our adoption was organized by this organization Wereldkinderen. With all the information I had, I contacted the organization. To my great surprise our file was unknown. While I had all documents including application form of Wereldkinderen in possession. So there are a number of people who can tell me more about the adoption at that time.
Everyone is silent and secretive. Even the well-known TV show Spoorloos in the Netherlands specialized in reuniting families.
I now know for sure the adoption wasn’t right and purely.
My search for my biological mother has a dead end, most people or organizations cannot help me, I am not taken seriously and I am very frustrated.
Then there was Liza, I’ve come to know her through a good friend. Liza has taken action and there are now possibilities to finally find and meet my family. I’m so thankful for having Liza in my life, she’s like an angel.
I have never forgotten where I came from. I am and remain a Brasileira.
No one takes this away from me.
The Brazilian blood flows through my heart and veins.