Childhood Days Part 1

The other night, when some friends were round for dinner, we got to talking about my childhood.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ll know that I spent a lot of my childhood in Malawi in Central Africa. It is called “The Warm Heart Of Africa” – and for good reason. When I was there, and it’s probably changed beyond all recognition now, it was one of the friendliest countries it was possible to visit. In the last 22 years, since I left, the country has undergone massive changes, and I don’t know if it is as safe as it once was.
I have read peoples’ blogs on their visits, and it does seem as though, on the surface, not much has changed. It’s still friendly, still beautiful, still unspoilt. But, they are seeing it through tourist eyes, and not through eyes that have seen it before, as it was.

I think Madonna has done the country a disservice. I can’t really explain that comment – it’s just a feeling I have! Anyway, my parents beat her to it by about twenty years – my adoption was carried out in the court in Limbe, Malawi. So, they adopted in Malawi a long time before Madonna!

Which leads me very nicely into the story of my adoption.

I was 3½ when my mum and dad got married. He had always wanted a daughter. We moved to Malawi straight after the wedding, because he was working there. I was about 6 I think when the adoption happened. They had to apply to adopt me, and a Malawian social worker came round to ensure that they were fit to care for me. Now, my mum IS my real mum, but because she was now married, and had a different surname to me, she had to adopt me too! Crazy. Anyway, luckily, they were approved by the Malawian social services – god knows what would have happened if they had been found to be unsuitable!

Anyway, the day of the court hearing arrived, and we all traipsed to the courthouse. All I can remember is that I got a day off school, and I sat and played Mexicans with my dad. The judge got very confused because the solicitor dealing with the case had the same name as my mum’s maiden name and my official surname (I had my dad’s surname since they’d married but it wasn’t official). Also, he obviously had the runs as he kept having to nip out of the court room, and came back several minutes later each time! My dad and I, to kill the boredom, sat on the benches playing Mexicans as I said. If you’ve never played it, don’t get excited! It’s not the most thrilling game! Basically, you draw a circle, with something sticking out of it, and say what it is that the Mexican is doing. Yes, dull – but it made a boring afternoon go a little more quickly!
A Mexican on a tightrope!

Now, when I have to fill in any paperwork, which has to include my birth certificate etc, I have to include the adoption certificate…and it always causes comment! I had to have in translated in France by an accredited translator. It is one of those things that will follow me around for the rest of my life and I will always have to explain it!

At least now I can say my parents were cool before Madonna!
NB. Photographs Not My Own Work - except for the Mexican picture! That's ALL my own work and I'm proud of it!!