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The legacy of forced adoptions

The legacy of forced adoptions
German families torn apart by forced adoptions during the cold war are
still looking for answers – and their lost relatives
 
Marten Rolff
Sunday 22 August 2010 20.30 BST

Katrin Behr was separated from her mother as a child. Photograph:
Christian Jungeblodt for the Guardian
It took exactly four minutes to steal Andreas Laake's baby son – that
was the length of the court hearing that swept away his paternity
rights. Some 26 years later Laake can still recall every detail of the
trial: his aching wrists cuffed behind his back; the musty smell of
the courtroom; the steely voice of the young female judge. Then there
were the vague words of the social worker who said that after his
attempted escape from the German Democratic Republic: "we do not
believe Mr Laake has the ability to bring up his son for the purpose
of socialism".

Laake was not even allowed to defend himself. All he said in court
were four words: "I do not agree." Several weeks later his son Marco
was adopted by people who were considered, in ideological terms, much
more reliable parents. "Since then, I've spent half a lifetime
searching for him," says Laake.

It took a matter of minutes for Katrin Behr to be separated from her
family too. It was a cold winter morning in 1972 when three men in
long, dark coats knocked on the door to arrest her mother. Behr was
four-and-a-half years old at the time, and can still remember the
panic in her mother's voice as she urged her daughter to get dressed
quickly. But Katrin Behr was left behind. The last words she heard
were, "Be brave. I'll be back tonight," before her mother was spirited
off to a socialist boot camp. It would be 19 years until they saw each
other again. After short stopovers in various foster homes, Behr was
adopted by a strict woman, a secretary of the Socialist party. She
tried to adapt as best she could. "I did what I was told," Behr says.
"As a little girl I really thought that that was the best way to avoid
trouble."

Stealing children was one way the German Democratic Republic muzzled
its people – Behr and Laake belong to an estimated 1,000 families torn
apart by the socialist authorities. Forced adoptions were a tool that
the regime "could impose on virtually anyone who was considered
suspicious", Behr says; all it took to be judged a bad parent was to
infringe on vague "socialist guidelines". In Behr's case, her mother,
a single parent, was arrested after she had lost her job and decided
to stay at home to care for her children – a major transgression in
the eyes of a state that believed in compulsory labour.

In her new family, Behr always felt "like a second-class daughter",
she says, "a Cinderella who had to clean the house and care for my
younger adoptive brother while my adoptive mother was at work". She
was told repeatedly that she had been put up for adoption because her
natural mother did not love her. "I desperately tried to cling to a
positive image of her," Behr says, "but any abandoned child would
start to doubt that love after 19 years." She was granted limited
access to her adoption file following reunification, and learned that
her mother had never had a chance to get her daughter back. She also
found out that her mother had spent several years in prison. Still, it
took Behr a whole year to get in touch with her. "I hesitated," she
says, "because I was afraid that the negative comments about her would
be proved right."

When Behr finally met her natural mother, she says she was obsessed
with the idea that everyone in her extended family would get along:
she therefore arranged for her natural and adoptive mother to meet.
This was a disaster. Behr had to separate the women when they
literally went for each other's throat: "You stole my child, you
communist bitch!" Behr's natural mother shouted. Today Behr is only in
touch very occasionally with both women.

Three years ago, Behr set up a support group for the victims of forced
adoptions, and since then the 43-year-old has been contacted by
hundreds of people still searching for their children, parents or
siblings. The 20th anniversary of reunification this October has
prompted a flood of interest: a number of films on the topic have come
out in Germany, and have been greeted with huge surprise by the public
– they have also prompted victims to talk about their cases publicly
for the first time. Like Laake, most of them feel betrayed twice over.
The GDR destroyed their families, and the reunified German state did
nothing to redress the injustice.

Walking through the dismal Leipzig suburbs feels like being
transported back 20 years: there are potholes, weeds growing through
the tarmac, dozens of uniform grey apartment blocks. Laake, a slim,
frail man of 50, lives in a ground-floor flat in one of these blocks.
Over the years, he has tried everything to find his son. He has posted
notices on the internet. He has sent letters to politicians. He has
recruited lawyers and private investigators. And he has continually
been reminded that, while times and political systems change, his
situation has not.

He is eager to tell his story, he says, despite the intimidation he
has experienced. Laake and his family have been attacked by a man in
the street; his car has been damaged twice; someone broke into his
cellar; the only photo of his son as a baby has disappeared. But Laake
says he is not afraid. "I am certainly not going to be paranoid. Not
after all these years."

Laake's career as an "enemy of the socialist state" was never
political. It started as a harmless teenage rebellion. He refused to
join the youth organisation of the Socialist party, and at school in
the 1970s he often wore a faux stetson and a black denim suit he'd
made himself. This provocatively "western" outfit made him a target
for his teachers' criticism. "But my mother always supported me," says
Laake. "Our family agreed on the importance of personal freedom. As
long as I can remember I wanted to get out of East Germany."

Early marriages were common in the GDR and so, at 19, Laake proposed
to his childhood friend, Ilona, who came to share his dream of life on
the other side of the iron curtain. Three years into their marriage,
when she was expecting a baby, they decided to flee. Their idea was to
cross the Baltic sea overnight in an inflatable rubber boat. It was
hazardous: the beach became a prohibited zone after dusk, closely
monitored by military police. "But when you are on the run, you stop
thinking," says Laake. "You are in a sort of survival mode. It's all
about: get on the water. Cower down in the dinghy so you're not shot.
Then paddle for your life." They did not even make it to the water.
"You can't describe the pressure you feel when there are five
Kalashnikovs pointing at you."


Andreas Laake is still searching for his son, who was adopted as a
baby. Photograph: Eva-Helen Thoele
As an ex-prisoner and attempted refugee, Laake is officially
acknowledged as a victim of political injustice, and he has even been
granted a small monthly pension by the German government. But as a
betrayed father, there are no documents proving his case. The GDR
authorities effectively covered their tracks. Laake never received any
official papers about his trial and because of data privacy laws his
son's adoption file is closed to him for 50 years. The only person who
has limited access to the file – other than the case officers – is
Marco himself. And there's no way of knowing if he's ever even been
told that he's adopted.

With no access to the details of his case, Laake has had to commit
everything he can to memory. The words of the security agent who beat
him during questioning. The document he signed to spare his pregnant
wife imprisonment, confessing that he alone was responsible for the
escape. The Hannibal-Lecter-style cage they built inside a cell,
where, for several weeks – as a special punishment – he was kept in
solitary confinement. He was in prison for six-and-a-half years
altogether.

Marco was born and put up for adoption while Laake was under arrest;
his wife had buckled under the massive pressure to give their child
up. "She was only 21 years old, she was afraid, they threatened to
make her life hell, they mentally broke her." Laake knows that she had
no real chance to prevent the forced adoption, but the couple
nevertheless fell out over the loss, and are now divorced. "In the end
I simply couldn't forgive her," he says.

While telling his story Laake shows me a number of photographs of
Marco: in a rowing boat, aged eight, and as a teenager at a party.
They were given to him just a few months ago, as a result of his
persistent campaign, by a social worker who is apparently in contact
with Marco's adoptive family. She also read out a short letter,
supposedly from Marco, now 26, who said that he has a good life and
does not wish to get to know his natural father. Laake was not allowed
to see the letter himself, for reasons of data protection. "His
language sounded clumsy and strangely impersonal," he says. "As if
someone had desperately tried to put himself into Marco's position and
then made the whole thing up."

Laake knows that "there is no law that could turn around my
situation". When the reunification treaty was signed in 1990 the new
German state had not distinguished between legal and illegal
adoptions, so every case today is dealt with according to the old West
German law, which prohibits natural parents from finding out about
children they voluntarily gave up. The builders of the new German
state 20 years ago either forgot to classify "adoptions against the
will of the parents" as a violation of human rights or, as the
historian and GDR expert Uwe Hillmer suggests, they simply were not
interested. "Even members of the Kohl government admitted internally:
forget about the past," says Hillmer. Many of the Socialist
administration's files were destroyed during the last days of the GDR,
and a former officer of the Stasi, the East German security service,
once told Hillmer: "You haven't got the slightest idea about the real
extent of injustice, and you will never find out what really
happened."

That Stasi officer might well be right, but reading through Behr's
victim support website gives some sense of the scale of what went on.
Behr has collected more than 300 cases of alleged forced adoption so
far, and she is trying to help more than 200 people to find family
members. There are 93 unsettled cases regarding the deaths of newborn
babies: Behr has documented the stories of mothers who were still
lying in the delivery room when they were told that their babies had
died – but swear they heard their child crying. They were not allowed
to see their baby's corpse. One mother visited the grave of her twin
daughters for more than 25 years before seeing two young women tell
the story of their adoption on TV. They were her daughters. It's
unclear why this cruel practice took place; most of the people
involved in the forced adoptions have refused to talk. Hillmer says
there are suspicions that Socialist party officials who could not have
children "ordered" newborns from cooperative gynaecologists, although
this has only been proved in one case so far.

Behr's objective is to make the victims' voices heard. She gives
lectures across Germany about forced adoption. "Many victims find
themselves in the humiliating position that no one even believes them,
and the strangeness of their cases doesn't make it any easier," she
says. Most of them suffer from depression, and some question their own
memories, as Behr has herself. The separation from her natural mother
destroyed her self-esteem and she suspects she will never fully
recover.

Laake refuses to accept that the data protection law is the only
reason he is prevented from contacting Marco; he suspects that Marco's
adoptive parents don't want their son to know the circumstances of his
adoption. "If they told him," he says, "it could destroy their
family." He keeps turning questions over in his mind: what if Marco's
clumsy letter was written by someone else? What if old Stasi networks
are still operating in Leipzig? What if Marco's adoptive parents are
former party officials trying to hide their past?

Behr is helping Laake with his investigation, and worries about his
safety. Until recently, she didn't believe the rumours about Stasi
networks being operational, but "looking at Laake's case with all its
dodgy incidents made me change my mind", she says. After Laake was
attacked in the street, police advised him to search for a new flat
for his own safety.

There is another reason that Behr is concerned about Laake. She says
that many victims of forced adoption build up high hopes that things
will change for the better once they find their natural family. "They
focus on a happy ending that is never going to happen." Behr has
helped more than 100 people to find their lost family members so far,
but most cases end like her own: there is an initial sense of relief,
followed by disappointment that the parent or child in question has
become a complete stranger.

Laake knows that there may be no happy ending for him, that the
problem of East Germany's lost children "is probably not solvable".
Nevertheless he will carry on searching for Marco. He has started to
call the adoption office twice a week, and he is also planning a
sit-down strike outside the office, "with a sign around my neck: give
me back my son!" He says he doesn't expect anything from contact with
Marco. "I could even understand if he didn't wish to meet me." But he
wants to hear that for himself. Laake is tired of all the threats and
delays. "All I want is certainty. That's the minimum a father can
expect."

Preet Mandir: mother says gave child for institutional care, not adoption

Preet Mandir: mother says gave child for institutional care, not adoption

An HIV positive woman from Pune has approached the Child Welfare Committee (CWC), alleging that her 11-year-old child was given up for adoption from Preet Mandir even as she had not relinquished the child. The CWC will submitting the affidavit to the CBI for further investigation. The woman said she had given her child for institutional care and not adoption.

Indian Express 20.08.2010

Dutch teenagers reunite with mother in TN hamlet

Dutch teenagers reunite with mother in TN hamlet

Jaya Menon, TNN, Aug 20, 2010, 04.19am IST

CHENNAI: "I am happy. I am with my real family now," 18-year-old Miquel said on Thursday after an emotional reunion with his family in Kootapuli, a fishing hamlet near Kanyakumari. It's a far cry from the beautiful seaside town of Middelburg in The Netherlands where he lives with his 19-year-old sister. But for Miquel and Melissa it was an homecoming they had been dreaming of since they came to know they had a family in India.

Residents of Kootapuli gathered outside Dekla's humble one-room house in the colony, rebuilt after the 2004 tsunami, as the two teenagers arrived from Kanyakumari, accompanied by their Dutch mentors. They arrived in Tiruvananthapuram on Wednesday before driving down to Kanyakumari for the grand reunion. With tears pouring down her face, Dekla greeted her two children with the traditional aarti', hugging and kissing them. "I am so happy. They are gifts from god," she said. While Miquel could speak English reasonably well, a tearful Melissa could communicate only in Dutch. But everything her children spoke was translated into Tamil for Dekla.

In 1996, Dekla, unable to fend for seven children, her husband having deserted her, handed over two of them, five-year-old Amala Loody Lisa (Melissa) and four-year-old James Kapil (Miquel) to an orphanage run by an adoption agency, Malaysian Social Service in Chennai, on the assurance they would be sent back to her when they turned 18. But, the agency gave the children in adoption to a Dutch couple in Netherlands without informing Dekla. Subsequently, their foster parents separated legally and the children were placed in a government home. After a child trafficking scandal linking the adoption agency broke out in 2005, for Dekla it became a desperate search for her children. She finally heard from them two years ago with the help of activists. It took another two years for her to see her children again.

If this little girl goes back to Romania she'll die..

If this little girl goes back to Romania she'll die.. I can't allow that to happen to her; MUM BATTLES TO KEEP DISABLED ORPHAN IN IRELAND.

Byline: ELAINE KEOGH

THE future of a disabled four-year-old Romanian orphan who is in Ireland for medical treatment hung in the balance last night.

Romanian authorities changed their decision to let Mihaela Porumbaru stay here.

But last night her foster mother Briege Hughes from Dundalk in Co Louth was distraught.

STOLEN TO ORDER

STOLEN TO ORDER; The Mail reporter who revealed the reason Ireland had to end its adoption agreement with Vietnam returns to the country...and makes another deeply disturbing discovery; SPECIAL REPORT. Byline: by Simon Parry in Vietnam The Mail reporter who revealed the reason Ireland had to end its adoption agreement with Vietnam returns to the country...and makes another deeply disturbing discovery HIGH in the jagged limestone peaks that mark Vietnam's border with Laos, Cao Thi Thu squats on the stone floor of her family's hut, staring at me with a mixture of hope and desperation as she pleads: 'Please help to bring my daughters back home.' It is more than three years since Thu says officials came to her village and offered her the chance to send her daughters Cao Thi Lan, 3, and Cao Thi Luong, 8, to be educated in the provincial capital . Instead, they were sold for thousands of euros for adoption in Europe and the U.S. Clutching the only photographs she has of the girls - ironically taken at the children's home to send out to prospective adoptive parents - it is clear that the pain of separation is as sharp today as it was on the day she last saw them. Ads by GoogleGet Paid to Write Become a Freelance Travel Writer - A Free Quick-Start Guide www.TheTravelWritersLife.com/qstart Market Research in Asia Medical,Telecom,FMCG,IT,Automotive India, China, Thailand, Malaysia.. www.dowellindia.com 'I am sad and I am very worried,' the 35-year-old said. 'I have no information about where they are or even which country they are in. I don't even know if they are alive or dead. 'I don't understand it. Why would anyone want to take away another mother's children? If I could speak to the foreigners who have them, I would beg them to please give my daughters back to me. I miss them so very much.' Lan and Luong were among 13 children taken away from Vietnam's smallest and most backward ethnic minority - the Ruc hill tribe - and then sold in return for fees of more than E7,000 per child. A formal police investigation has been launched into their claims but villagers fear it will be a whitewash and are desperate for foreign governments to intervene to help bring their children home. It's been three months since I first travelled to Vietnam to cover the adoption story for the Irish Daily Mail. I had been tasked to investigate the circumstances surrounding the continued collapse of the bilateral agreement with Ireland. When the story was published in October revealing that a baby broker in Lang Son had offered me a child for $10,000 (E6,950) against a backdrop of endemic corruption where the orphanages seemed to see little - if any - of the $7,500 (E5,200) cost of Vietnamese adoption. The backlash was ferocious. I was accused of having sensationalised, if not outright invented, the story. But our revelations were validated by a subsequent Unicef report, published in November. It found that the numbers being put up for adoption are influenced by foreign demand and that adoption agencies operating in Vietnam were essentially securing children by offering the most money. Now, on my third visit to find out what happens to the mothers whose children are adopted, I have met with serious resistance. Before our meeting with Thu, we tried to drive to neighbouring Yen Hop village where the pictures of the children are kept. We were refused permission to enter by the police and taken to a military base close to the Laos border where we were held for questioning and then ordered to leave. We drove back in the direction of the provincial capital but were able to escape the officials long enough to interview Thu in her home in On village before a police officer caught up with us. Thu and a group of Ruc villagers affected by the scandal sneaked me into her house to tell me the parents' story and to plead for help in getting their children back. The Ruc were until recently cave dwellers. They were discovered living in caves in wild terrain in Phong Nha-ke Bang National Park near the border with Laos. Only 34 of them remained when the country's Communist officials relocated them to two-room, stone huts in a cluster of four remote villages in the late 1950s. Half a century on, the Ruc people remain largely cut off from civilisation along a winding dirt track in a military zone on the edge of the national park, where they survive on hunting, subsidence farming, donated second-hand clothes and monthly rice subsidies from the provincial government. Local officials told us their farming supports them for only four months of the year. For the remaining eight months, they rely on food aid. Now numbering 500, the shambolic Ruc community has the air of a rootless and dependent people. Children run wild in ragged clothes and men stumble barefoot around the village, their faces flushed red from rice wine even at 10 in the morning. People in nearby Vietnamese villages view them disdainfully as primitives. 'We've heard the stories about the children being stolen but what does it matter?' one man told us dismissively as we made our way to the mountain villages. 'They have babies like chickens in any case.' It was in September 2006 when officials from Quang Bing province's capital, Dong Hoi, visited the tiny tribe and offered families what they said was a golden opportunity to give their children a better life. Their children, aged between two and nine, would be homed, fed and schooled at a children's social welfare centre in Dong Hoi for free then returned home when their education and vocational training was complete, they were told. The parents of 13 children - most of them illiterate - agreed and were driven to Dong Hoi with their children where they signed consent forms placing them in the care of the local authority. It was only when they later travelled to visit their children that they were discovered they had been adopted overseas. 'Those men lied to me,' said Thu, who has three other children. 'They said the children would return to the village when they finished school. They said they wanted to help us to give our children a better life. But they sold them as if they were livestock.' The parting proved more painful than Thu expected - and when she went to visit her daughters at the children's home in the Lunar New Year holiday of 2007, some four months after they were sent there, she made a pitiful attempt to take them home. 'They looked well but they missed me very much and they were very homesick . They said to me: "Mummy, please take us home," she recalled. 'I couldn't bear to see them so sad so I decided to take them home. I took them by the hands and led them out of the children's home towards the bus stop. I was going to buy us all tickets to go back home - but the security guards stopped me and told me I couldn't take them away. 'The officials at the children's home said I had signed papers and I had to leave them. They said it was in the best interests of the girls and if I cared about them, I would do as they said. I was crying but I believed them and I went home alone.' It would be almost a year later before Thu visited her daughters again. When she arrived, she was taken to an office and told that both girls had been adopted by families from overseas. Thu says she furiously confronted the head of administration at the children's home, Pham Khac Manh. 'He just kept telling me they been adopted by foreigners,' she said. 'He couldn't even tell me which country they had gone to or whether they were together or apart. I said. "How can you do this without my permission as their mother?" 'Mr Manh calmly told me: "Your daughters have gone and you must accept it. There is nothing you can do. You should go home." 'He gave me 200,000 dong (E7.50) and told me to get the bus.' News of the children's fate spread quickly around the Ruc community villages as other parents travelled to the provincial capital to find that their sons and daughters too had been sent overseas for adoption. All were told that the papers they signed gave complete authority to provincial officials. The case was legally watertight and protesting was useless, they were told. 'Terrible stories and rumours went around the villages that just made us more worried and more panicky,' Thu said. 'Some people said that the good-looking ones had been sold to foreigners and the less attractive ones had been sold and killed for their organs.' Although she has no idea where either Lan or Luong are, or whether they are together or apart, Thu accepts that her daughters may be living a much better life overseas than if they had stayed in Vietnam. But Thu, who has three other children including a five-month-old baby boy, is fiercely and defiantly insistent that their place is at home. 'I would never have given up my daughters if I had known that they were going to be adopted overseas,' she said. Asked to describe the two girls, she fought back tears. 'They are good girls. They are polite and well behaved . They play well with their friends. I am afraid that they will forget all about their mother, especially the younger one.' Thu's only photographs of her daughters are in a bundle of papers inside a plastic bag tied up beneath her wooden bed. With the torn and dog-eared photographs are the documents from the children's home in Dong Hoi. They state that the girls will be cared for and educated by the provincial authority in the children's centre but also says they will be returned to their families when their schooling is complete. On the documents, the names of both girls have been changed from Cao - a hill tribe name - to Tran, a common Vietnamese name. The date of birth of the older girl Luong has also been changed from 1998 to 2000, making her appear two years younger. 'I didn't read the papers properly and I only found out about the changes in the names and the age later,' said Thu. 'Now I think they probably did it to make them harder to trace and to make Luong easier to adopt.' While officials have allegedly appealed to the families to halt their complaints, they have persisted in the face of what they claim have been threats and intimidation, demanding not compensation but the return of their children. Cao Xuan Chuyen, 38, who saw three nieces and one nephew taken away from his village On, said: 'The parents are very determined and will not give up. They will keep fighting to get their children back.' At the provincial capital Dong Hai, Le Thi Thu Ha, director of the children's home where the 13 children were taken to, confirmed that a police investigation had been launched into the circumstances in which the Ruc children were adopted overseas. Miss Ha, who recently replaced former director Nguyen Tien Ngu who handled the adoptions, said one of the children had been adopted by a family in the U.S. while the remainder had been adopted in Italy. However, she insisted: 'All of the legal documents were in order. It was approved by the provincial ministry of justice and the provincial social welfare centre and it was done with the consent of the Ruc parents. 'The local police started investigating the case a few months ago. We expect the investigation to be complete and the results announced in the first quarter of 2010.' Pham Khac Manh, the head of administration at the children's home, told us by phone that he was aware of the case of the Ruc children. He refused to comment further and declined repeated requests to explain his role and his dealings with the Ruc parents. The two main orphanages for Irish adoptions in recent years have been Lang Son on the Vietnam-China border and Thai Nguyen in northern Vietnam. Visits to both by the Irish Daily Mail confirmed that they draw a large percentage of children from hill tribe communities. Danish anthropologist Peter Bille Larsen worked for a number of years among the Ruc community and spoke at length to the families about the missing children last year. He sent emails, documents and photographs to both the U.S. and Italian embassies in Hanoi in early 2008 asking them to investigate. However, no representative from either embassy has visited. In his report, Larsen said: 'It seems likely that a legal loophole was used involving illiterate ethnic minority parents signing over all rights to their children, allowing (orphanage) officials to have the children adopted without the consent of the parents - this despite official letters from social authorities specifying the return of the children upon the improvement of living conditions back home.' The anthropologist called for action to allow the children to be returned to their families. But when the Irish Daily Mail approached the Italian and U.S. embassies in Hanoi to ask about the case of the Ruc children, the U.S. embassy said it knew nothing of it and the Italian embassy confirmed it had not directly investigated the alleged child thefts, saying it had no power to do so. Italian charge d'affairs in Hanoi Cesare Bieller said: 'We acknowledge the importance of the task you are undertaking and we hope that your story will be received with the importance that it deserves.' However, he added that the Italian Embassy 'does not have any investigative powers in the matter'. Jim Warren , spokesman for the U.S. embassy in Hanoi, said: 'The Government of Vietnam has jurisdiction with respect to the allegations by Vietnamese citizens. The U.S. Embassy is unaware of any complaints or requests. 'The United States is required to review thoroughly every intercountry adoption at the point when the adoptive parents request approval for their child to live in the United States. Although the United States has expressed serious concerns about inter-country adoptions in Vietnam, during these reviews, we have not identified problems specifically related to adoptions of children from the Ruc community.' Help cannot come soon enough for Cao Thi Thu who, in a few weeks, will spend her fourth Lunar New Year holiday apart from her missing daughters. As we sat in her home, her quiet but persistent appeals for help continued up to the moment a local police official walked in and ordered us to leave. It was clear that this was our final warning. With my interpreter, we clumsily bundled towards the door in a humiliating and cowardly flurry of farewells, leaving Thu bemused and disappointed. 'Tell Thu we'll do everything we can,' I told my interpreter as we pushed our way through the throng of villagers to the door. As I looked back, my gaze was met with a mother's look of hopelessness and immeasurable yearning for the children she fears she may never hold again. The Irish Daily Mail has forwarded the documents and pictures collected from the Ruc community to the U.S. and Italian embassies in Hanoi. CAPTION(S): Lan and Luong were among 13 children taken away from Vietnam's smallest and most backward ethnic minority and then sold for E7,000 each For sale: Reporter Simon Parry holds a baby offered for adoption Robbed: Mother Cao Thi Thu wants her children back

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Adoption agencies to be struck off for ‘wrongdoing’

Sunday, May 23, 2010 Previous editions

Ireland: Dry with mostly clear blue skies and lot »

Adoption agencies to be struck off for ‘wrongdoing’
By Conall O Fátharta

Friday, May 21, 2010

ANY adoption agency which engages in illegal practices should be de-registered and if necessary the case referred to An Garda Síochána, the chairman of the Adoption Board has said.

The issue of illegal adoptions was raised with Geoffrey Shannon following the Irish Examiner’s investigation into the case of Tressa Reeves, whose son was illegally adopted and falsely registered as the natural child of the adoptive parents. This was facilitated by St Patrick’s Guild adoption agency, which remains fully accredited by the Adoption Board, despite the board being aware of the case since 2001.

Speaking on RTÉ’s Prime Time, chairman of the Adoption Board Geoffrey Shannon gave a personal guarantee that any such cases would be investigated and if necessary referred to the relevant authorities.

"I don’t want to become involved in discussing individual cases, but what I am saying is, if anybody has concerns in relation to their individual case, that I am giving a guarantee that their case or cases will be immediately drawn to the attention of the Adoption Board and if there are any concerns emerging from an examination of that case that warrants referral to the gardaí, to the General Register Office or any other statutory body that will happen as a matter of priority," he said.

Mr Shannon said he would recommend to the Adoption Board to de-register agencies engaged in wrongdoing.

"We will do what we can do within the powers laid down in the Adoption Acts. We will have much greater enhanced powers under the forthcoming adoption legislation and hopefully we will be in a better position to provide answers.

"The board has at its disposal the power to de-register an adoption society... it would be my recommendation to the board where wrongdoing has been found on the part of an adoption society, that the board... de-register the adoption society," he said.

This story appeared in the printed version of the Irish Examiner Friday, May 21, 2010

The issue of illegal adoptions was raised with Geoffrey Shannon following the Irish Examiner’s investigation into the case of Tressa Reeves, whose son was illegally adopted and falsely registered as the natural child of the adoptive parents. This was facilitated by St Patrick’s Guild adoption agency, which remains fully accredited by the Adoption Board, despite the board being aware of the case since 2001.

Speaking on RTÉ’s Prime Time, chairman of the Adoption Board Geoffrey Shannon gave a personal guarantee that any such cases would be investigated and if necessary referred to the relevant authorities.

"I don’t want to become involved in discussing individual cases, but what I am saying is, if anybody has concerns in relation to their individual case, that I am giving a guarantee that their case or cases will be immediately drawn to the attention of the Adoption Board and if there are any concerns emerging from an examination of that case that warrants referral to the gardaí, to the General Register Office or any other statutory body that will happen as a matter of priority," he said.

Mr Shannon said he would recommend to the Adoption Board to de-register agencies engaged in wrongdoing.

"We will do what we can do within the powers laid down in the Adoption Acts. We will have much greater enhanced powers under the forthcoming adoption legislation and hopefully we will be in a better position to provide answers.

"The board has at its disposal the power to de-register an adoption society... it would be my recommendation to the board where wrongdoing has been found on the part of an adoption society, that the board... de-register the adoption society," he said.

This story appeared in the printed version of the Irish Examiner Friday, May 21, 2010

Family's 14 year long trauma ends (video)

Family's 14 year long trauma ends 20 Aug 2010, 0907 hrs IST
14 years after they were separated, teenagers Miquel & Melissa were re-united with their parents in Kanyakumari. They were given up for adoption illegally by an agency in Chennai in 1996.

Dekla Selvan has spent the last fourteen years in agony... waiting for this one moment to get a glance of 19 year-old Melissa and 18 year-old Miquel, her two children who were given up for adoption illegally.

Talking about the incident, Dekla Selvam said, "My children were sent to Netherlands without my knowledge. We have been searching for them ever since. We are so happy that they have come to meet us now."

Deklas children were amongst the 300 odd children given for illegal adoption by an agency in Chennai. After 14 years of relentless battle by their mother, the children have to come to meet their family.The only communication all these years was a letter written by Melissa to her mother.

Perhaps more than the mother, it is the children whose heart wrenching ordeal has to be heard to be believed.

Preet Mandir gets new managing trustee

Preet Mandir gets new managing trustee
TNN, Aug 20, 2010, 01.47am IST

 
PUNE: Following the resignation of Joginder Singh Bhasin as managing trustee of Preet Mandir adoption agency, the board has unanimously agreed to appoint D P Bhatia as the new managing trustee.

A sitting trustee for the last decade, Bhatia is a 1952 graduate in electrical engineering and belongs to the Indian Inspection Service-Engineering Service Cadre, Government of India. On his appointment, Bhatia said that he had accepted the responsibility of running the activities of the foundation at this critical juncture' with great humility.'

Former managing trustee Joginder Singh Bhasin was arrested by the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) for his alleged involvement in an inter-country adoption racket', though he was subsequently released on bail. It is not known as to why Bhasin resigned.

Read more: Preet Mandir gets new managing trustee - Pune - City - The Times of India

Duped by Indian adoption agency, US family cautions couples

23 May, 2010, 11.54AM IST,IANS
Duped by Indian adoption agency, US family cautions couples 

That was 12 years ago. The Smolins now operate a website, in which they have catalogued international adoption injustices and offer advice to adopting parents, based on their own experience.

The Smolins, who have five sons, adopted nine-year-old Bhagya and 11-year-old Manjula from Action for Social Development (ASD), a Hyderabad-based adoption agency, Nov 18, 1998.

"The girls were terribly depressed and one of them had suicidal tendencies," Desiree told IANS in an e-mail interview.

The Smolins were saddened by the emotional state of the girls. Luckily, they got some information. The girls had told a friend at ASD about their past, which prompted the Smolins to probe further.

"When the girls finally began to open up after about six weeks, they told us that they were not orphans, but were stolen and sold to us. They were even threatened and forced to lie to the embassy official, who interviewed them," said Desiree, who still can't believe it after 12 years.

The Smolins then made efforts to locate Lakshmi, the biological mother of the girls. After repeated efforts and with the help of Gita Ramaswamy, an activist, they finally succeeded in tracing Lakshmi in 2004.

Lakshmi had sent her daughters to ASD in 1995 on the assurance that they would get a good education.

A year later, on a trip to the centre, she saw her daughters for the last time, through a one-way window. She was told they would study better if they did not see her at all as it would upset them.

Lakshmi made a request that her daughters be handed back to her, but was told that she would have to pay a huge amount of money for that. The girls, say activists, had fallen victim to the sinister plans of child-traffickers and were already out of ASD by that time.

Lakshmi did not hear of her girls after that, till Ramaswamy approached her in 2004 and told her that her daughters were alive and well, and were looking for her.

Thanks to Ramaswamy's efforts and the Smolins' generosity, the mother got to see her daughters again. The girls finally continued to live with the Smolins.

It was in 2001, after a series of adoption scandals came to the surface, that adoptions from Andhra Pradesh were regulated.

"The then director of ASD, Sanjeeva Rao, has been jailed three times on child trafficking-related charges. The last we heard is that he is currently trying to be relicensed," David told IANS.

In 2005, they filed formal complaints with both the Central Adoption Resource Authority (CARA) in India and with the US State Department's division of Children and Families.