White and Black

It is somewhere in the thousands, for sure. Comments made, questions asked, stares and glances given...it seems Zambians just don’t get a white woman with a black child. 

Not a colored or a mixed child as would be expected with a white mother, but a black child. Its not normal. Its not within cultural thinking. 

An adopted child has enough to work through, an adopted child of a different color has the additional issues of race to work through. I think it is certainly best for our daughter that we live in Zambia right now. But sometimes I wonder if there would be less questions if we were in America. 

Odd I know, but it seems that at least there is “more” of a general idea of families coming in all different colors and sizes then here. The thing is “adoption” per se is more normal for Zambians then it ever has been for Americans. They are the ones that for years with death all around them, they have been taking in other family members children, feeding, clothing, sending them to school and caring for them. There are even many stories of wealthier Zambians caring for their servants or workers children and supporting them. 

So somewhere there is a breakdown, a mentality of ‘we do it for our own,’  but its not normal for others to do it for our own. I’m not sure. 

It was slightly easier when she was younger. A baby on my back. Questions, comments, stares, but she was oblivious to it all.  Not anymore. And Zambians can be blunt. Like, “you’re fat.” Cant get much more blunt that that. And they might not mean to be hurting your feelings, but it happens. 

But kids. You know how kids can be. 

Whether it was a sudden change in age or “just coincidence”, the year she started at school is when she began to see it. Black and White. We are different. And I venture to guess, it wasn’t because now her eyes were working clearly, but its perspective. 

Kids at school after the first day, began to talk. And I don’t know all that was said, but in hindsight, it is something that you should prepare kids for. A great example of this is a lady I met and visited at her home with all the little girls. She said they don’t call their home an orphanage, its just home. And when a new sister comes it, its just another sister that God has added to our family. So she told them about a “friend” that was going to come to visit. And she had brown skin like them and the mommy had white skin, but that was their family. 

I wish I could go back and say something to the teacher, to speak to the class to prepare the kids. To give the issue, a positive light, make it a “teachable moment”. But I can’t. And I won’t ever really know what all was said in those first few weeks of school. 

All I know is that now she sees it. 

And she would have seen it sooner or later, but maybe it was sooner. 

Overall, I am thankful that she is in a Zambian school with peers “just like her”, I just was a bit naive to how that would also negatively impact other issues. 

James dropped her off to get her hair braided at the salon in our neighborhood a few weeks ago.  (Very Normal, just so you are not worried). Some other girls came in after to get their hair done. They all played together and had fun. When she was ready, I came to pick her up. The girls didn’t believe her that I was her mom. They questioned her. Then they questioned me. Then they asked, well why are you white if she is black? Then I dodged a few more and they followed me out to the car and as I closed her door and buckled her in, they asked, well what happened to her ‘real mom’, is she dead? 

I can’t safeguard every environment so no one says the wrong thing, the thing that might hurt the most, or bring about the most pain and introspection.  As she has gotten older I now shut people down or walk away if they are asking too much because why does a stranger have the right to at any given moment bring up a discussion? 

But, among the generally inquisitive and occasionally encouraging remarks the stupidest thing I have ever heard, was a young guy at the grocery store say, 

“Where did you steal her from?”  

Speechless. 

IS there ANY thought in your brain of what that might do to a child?   ANY?

I guess it was meant to be a joke? How in the world is that funny?  

We have to learn how to deal with these things, discuss them, interact with others. They will always be there. But, may these things be used by God to make her and us stronger.