ABANDONED AT BIRTH
Two adopted ‘foundlings’ tell their stories
Itwas November 2018, Cassandra Moodley’s first day as an in-service trainee at the International and Governance Relations Department at eThekwini Municipality. Standing in the gardens of the City Hall parking lot on what was then Aliwal Street in Durban, she suddenly realised she was in the very place where she had been abandoned 24 years previously, on a cold morning in July. Wrapped only in a piece of fabric, she still had her umbilical cord attached when she was discovered by the groundskeeper. Cassie has never met the man who found her, but it was from him that she got her birth name, Nonthlanthla.
Thandiwe Garrett isn’t sure exactly where she was abandoned, or when. In contrast to Cassie’s, hers was a safe abandonment, either in Somerset Hospital, where she was born, or on the steps of the local police station. Thandi, whose name means ‘one who is loved’, was three when her adoptive mom, Ann, took her to visit the hospital. She met the staff who were on duty the night she was born. Holding Ann’s hand, she walked through the hospital following the route her birth mom would have walked. The staff let her lie on the bed, see the scale and visit the newborn babies. Despite her young age, she still remembers that one of the babies she met that day had also been abandoned.
For both women, exploring the place of their abandonment was significant. As with many foundlings, anything that connects them to their origins is precious. Cassie has no information about her birth parents. But Thandi has tiny fragments of her story: her birth name, Zintle Jozana, a torn-off piece of paper from the social worker in Khayelitsha containing what may be her birth date, and a report from her social worker including the name of the person who supposedly left her. The name turned out to be a dead end, and police couldn’t find any information about Thandi’s birth mother. It’s left her with unanswered questions: ‘Why was I abandoned? What is my medical history? And, do I have siblings?’
In a UK study, researchers found that foundlings often express thoughts and emotions that are markedly different to other adoptees. ‘Abandonment is harder to talk about and perhaps harder to come to terms with than adoption alone. The profound ignorance about identity, encompassing such fundamental details as original name, ethnicity and date of birth, also marks out foundlings as having particular issues to come to terms with,’ the research reads.
But Tholakele Antamu, herself an adult adoptee
One of the big challenges of parenting abandoned children is knowing when to tell them their abandonment story.
and creative grief specialist, challenges the understanding of abandonment: ‘To abandon implies a complete lack of care. It is the act of turning one’s back on something. When a person places a child somewhere that they think someone better equipped and more suited will find this child, how can we reduce this act to a word like “abandonment”?’
Experts bemoan the dearth of available research about the experience of foundlings. However, anecdotal evidence suggests some common factors that affect how children adjust and transition to adulthood. These include whether the abandonment was safe or unsafe, how they were found, the availability of information about their birth families, factors like personality and resilience, and crucially, whether they grew up in institutional or family care. While both Thandi and Cassie were adopted into loving families at an early age, there are marked differences in their stories.
Cassie spent three weeks in hospital and foster care before being matched to Silvie and Danny Moodley, whom she lovingly refers to as rock stars. ‘How many people do you know whose parents have had lunch with the Queen of England?’ It was shortly after the scrapping of the Group Areas Act when Cassie’s parents specifically requested an abandoned baby and preferably, a black child. Cassie was the second child they were matched to; the first was HIV-positive and sadly passed away. But despite some chest problems resulting from her exposure at birth, Cassie survived. Describing her childhood as safe and secure, Cassie says she was adored by extended family and her community from the day she came home. ‘Her brother was over the moon,’ adds Silvie. He gave his parents strict instructions to bring his new sister straight to his school so he could meet her.
‘One of the things about the adoption process that made the biggest impression on me was the wording of the court order at the end,’ says Silvie. ‘It included a simple sentence stating that according to the law, Cassie became “our child, as if born from my own womb”.’ For Silvie, who had suffered through two stillbirths and multiple miscarriages, these words carried huge significance.
Conversely, Thandi’s first eight months were torrid, spent in an impoverished Place of Safety. It was a scarring experience: ‘I wasn’t able to get love,’ she says. ‘I was one of so many children. When my mommy came to pick me up I was covered in lice and stank of urine. I still can’t sleep without sound because for those eight months I had babies constantly crying or screaming. I was emotionally damaged. I just lay in my crib because crying got me nowhere.’
Her life was transformed when Ann, a teacher who had never intended being a single mom, fought to adopt her after hosting her for a two-week stay over the school holidays. They’ve been inseparable since. ‘I fell in love,’ says Ann. ‘Thandi needed a mommy, and we clearly belonged together.’
In contrast to the institution, adoption has given Thandi unconditional love: ‘I love my mom so much. When she brought me home, she told me that she’d always love me, and I believe that. I carry her in my heart.’
In Grade 2, when someone asked her, ‘Is that your mother?’, she answered, ‘What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see the resemblance?’
One of the big challenges of parenting abandoned children is knowing when to tell them their abandonment story. For Thandi, the story was intertwined with her adoption story, and she can’t remember a time when she didn’t know both. But although Cassie was told about her adoption from infancy, her parents chose to wait until she was 18 before revealing that she was a foundling.
Matric exams and holidays were over, and she was ready to leave home. Cassie, who describes herself as an emotional teen, believes it was the right strategy for her, and says that in some ways, hearing her story was a relief. Her biggest fear, growing up, was that her parents had information about her biological parents that they weren’t sharing. While she didn’t ever feel lied to, and was certain that her parents were acting in her best interests, she’d wondered why she wasn’t in contact with her biological parents. Her abandonment story confirmed that no one knew who they were.
Despite being abandoned unsafely, Cassie says her overriding emotion towards her birth mother is sadness. She concedes, however, that after years of hurt and anger, this empathy is a new emotion. ‘Only in the past two years have I been able to understand the systemic challenges of poverty, and the fact that my birth mother was abandoned too – by the system, by whoever made her pregnant and by her family.’
Thandi’s feelings are more complex and she acknowledges that they change all the time. While her faith and nine years of therapy have helped her to process her birth mother’s absence, there are days when she still longs to meet her.
Coming to terms with not knowing their birth culture is another challenge for foundlings. Thandi explains: ‘Some African folk say my nose is too small to be Xhosa. Others say my skin is too light to be Zulu. Many assume I can speak an African language and become aggressive because I appear to be ignoring them.
I tend to connect with foreigners and people from other cultures and backgrounds because I feel like a foreigner myself.’
For Cassie, the identity void has helped her know who her true friends are. She remembers asking a close friend why she had never questioned her about her unusual surname. The answer? ‘It isn’t the most interesting thing about you.’
Significantly,
Cassie’s solution to grappling with identity has been to embrace all aspects of her cultural heritage, and to challenge her understanding of what it is to be black. She admits that the need for an expanded worldview is also what drew her to international relations. It’s also why she jokingly says she’s planning to have three weddings one day: one Christian, one Indian and one traditional African.
Navigating the tensions of identity, the acknowledgement of loss and finding their own individuality is what Tholakele refers to as the ‘strange and difficult dance of life’.
Both Cassie and Thandi are experiencing wonderfully full lives; they are in relationships, and would themselves consider adopting one day. They stress that abandonment is not their greatest defining factor. Thandi works as an aftercare assistant, loves music and singing, and delights in spoiling her mom. For Cassie, who speaks French and has her sights on a career in diplomacy, what happened to her as a newborn feels like someone else’s story. ‘There is no “one” universal experience of adoption or abandonment,’ she says. ‘Here I am; I’m simply living my normal.’
In Grade 2, when someone asked her, ‘Is that your mother?’, she answered, ‘What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see the resemblance?’