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Adopted Colombian story

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Without a doubt this is something I’d never thought I’d share across a blog. 20 something years ago I was adopted from an orphanage in Bogota, Colombia. It’s something I live with. Something I think about every day. It’s everything and nothing to me. It’s taken me, and is still taking me, most of my life so far, to accept that it is just something a part of me, but that there is so much more.

Being a guy I’ve always felt the need to be hard. To be ruthless with feeling. To be self assured. The same feelings that I felt gave me strength, left me feeling totally isolated. I learned to live a different life. I still don’t let anyone too close too quickly.

The photo above is me sitting in La Ciudad Perdida (The Lost City) after trekking for 3 days into the Colombian jungle

I spoke to Marky P about this. Massive inspiration across so many different levels – this post really belongs to his blog.

Life before knowing I was adopted

I’ve known since birth. My brother is blonde, white with green eyes – so I was reminded from when I was young. It was a really hard thing to explain to people when you’re 5 years old why you and your brothers are different ‘colours’. I remember lying about it once. At 5 years old, I’d never felt so guilty before. I’ve never lied about it again.

Experience: The judgment of others, and the judgement of myself.

How I found out I was adopted

Parents always discussed it with me. “Where do babies come from” was a very different conversation with me. I think I would have only been 18 months (or whenever babies start to talk) that they started showing me where I was from. You might have had a “Where do babies come from book” – you know those books for babies? – I had one called “Why was I adopted” which was also for infants.

Experience: That I experienced birth like none other I knew (at that time).

How I felt

Confused. My whole outlook was always up and down. It’s hard to tell if I was naturally emotional or if that this made me emotional because I went through so many different feelings. I once went to a doctor and was asked to fill out medical history (of family) to which I wrote ‘N/A’ and the doctor looked at me coldly and said “What? Is your whole family dead?” I said “They could be, I really have no idea.”

It becomes a search for ‘truth’ – whatever that is, to answer questions of why.

Experience: Blame. It’s weird, there’s no real blame anywhere. Yet I felt like I needed to put some on someone.

Highschool

Highschool – where you think you know who you are, by trying to be everyone else. Having felt alone for so long – you look to feel a part of something all over again. You tell yourself you don’t give a shit; that you’re a guy and that none of this matters to guys. That I should get back to chasing girls.

After the first 4 years of highschool, running around with different crowds, I gave in. I let go of caring about the judgement views of others and starting doing my own thing. I still continued to perform with different bands; kept playing soccer; continued enjoying the company of my closest friends. I just wanted to be whatever I wanted. And that was fine. I started to feel happy.

People think I’m gay; straight; happy; sad; too old; too young; too busy; lazy blah bah. But I just wanted to be me. And that’s what happened. And again, I learned acceptance.

Experience: Life is what you want it to be. You have that control and will to bend, twist and craft whatever you want.

Thinking about finding my biological family

Talk to any adopted child and they’ll have a different perspective. In fact, I think while you’re growing up it changes over time. Sometimes you want to more than anything; sometimes the thought tears you apart; and at other times it seems as a nice to know.

Experience: Acceptance. That everything happens. And it will happen. We are everything that we want to be.

Doing it

Hard. I procrastinated for so long. It ended up being over the internet, followed by a letter, to which I received an email reply (after leaving an email address). 12 months later I went over with 5 mates who would share one of the pinnacle moments of my life with me. I wrote every day, and still have not published any of this, nor read it again.

Meeting my mother, my 3 sisters, and my half brother and half sister, two nieces and nephew was incredible, I’m still never sure how to explain the feeling. I now know every circumstance I was adopted under.

Experience: Reborn. My life started again.

The journey: is a search for truth, and answers

It felt like it feels to SCUBA diving at night with sharks. Honestly. You jump into the water, swallow all your pride, and decide that it’s worth everything to be here, if I don’t make it out alive, at least I did something that might mean something one day.

Then you jump.

Thoughts now

Best thing I’ve ever done. That’s all you need to know.

It’s a fuel. A fuel for self-destruction, a fuel for strength, a fuel for emotion, a fuel for apathy. It is measure of value, fortune and gratitude.

Some thoughts for adopted men

1. You are not alone
2. Your parents are the ones who raised you, your family is who you make it
3. It’s OK to care about your parents, it’s OK to give a fuck
4. The decision is yours. You never have to find out, you’re not succeeding or failing at anything you don’t set out to do

What I’ve learned

1. I have a strong connection with my family
2. I have a strong connection with children
3. Adopted children share an experience which bonds them, no story is the same
4. That I am incredibly fortunate to be where I am, and know the people I know
5. I haved lived in too much fear, guilt and anger

What I want to be

1. A father. A good father.
2. To support and be there for any other adoptee (working on something at the moment)

http://jyesmith.com/return-to-colombia/2009/07/02/

By tasco66 on Jul 3, 2009, 05:32 in Friendly Talkzone.

thepieman says on Jul 3, 2009, 05:43:

A moving story with something in it for everyone to take from, Im glad you found your family and that your experiences have made you stronger.. not all adopted or orphaned children have this and its fantastic that you want to share your experience to help others

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Bill Turley (Moderator) (Trustee board) (☼Travelguide writer) says on Jul 3, 2009, 07:11:

Tasco Thank you so much for opening up and sharing this with all of us.

Mr. Bill Somondoco

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lpdiver says on Jul 3, 2009, 07:15:

Tasco...My journey has been very similar to your. I was adopted at least twice and possibly three times. I located my birth mother on the internet and we have a good ongoing relationship today. I have not done anything about contacting my birth father. I will fill in with details some other time.

ts

Remember what the monkey says, "Fuck money it's free"

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theflatline says on Jul 3, 2009, 08:26:

My mother is white blued eyed and tall, step father is same. Bio dad is Colombian, which put me short and on the dark side with a different last name.

At my family reunions I tend to be the odd man out color wise. I look like the waiter.

Mom and step dad raised me, gave me unconditional love, and at 15 step dad asked if I would like his last name. He was the dad there for ball games, car wrecks, break ups, and when I needed that extra 50 bucks.

I met my Colombian dad when I was 20, and he had was upset that I had another man's last name, but I told him the other man raised me.

He did teach me about literature and life and Colombian women. He saved me from being snatched up by the first pretty thing that smiled at me, but made me wait six months before I really got into a relationship and could recognize a great woman when I had one, and not an interesada. I also learned that the son of un gallinaso famoso is guilted/gifted with a bit of his fathers reputation. Hijo del tigre and all that.

To his credit I know he loves me, and when ever I visit he parades me around town, and has pictures of me in all stages of my life around his house.

I however, got to meet my grandmother who was the most wonderful person, and now that she is passed I know I will miss her every day.

When I was 30 I moved to Colombia to learn spanish and work, and become more in contact with my Colombian roots

I did not want to view Colombia as someone on holiday, that only sees the good, whose family dotes on them while they are there, or the guy with all the dollars in his pocket.

I worked for pesos, lived on a budget, moved in with a girl, and learned the reality of the country, for three years I had a good life, not lleno de lujos, but a solid life.

I learned to take cold showers. I learned to pedir la rebaja and buy things with cuotas. I learned that my girlfriends family was apt to drop buy at any hour with a bottle of guaro para chismosear and ask me to cook for them. I eat la patica de cerdo.

I do not care if they taste like mani, if I want peanuts I will eat peanuts.

I have experienced being asked to see my libreta militar(not to mention the experience of getting one). I made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, kissing the wrong girl, and having a Fark soldier question me about my accent(he thought I was italian) and at gunpoint handed over my wallet and he looked at my cedula and let me go. Thank god he did not look on the back because it says Nacido New Orleans EEUU.

My grandmother always told me I had two hogares. Aca y alla, to know and to love them both. That I needed to recognize the good and the bad in both and to take from them.

I can stand on a table and sing Otto Serge and Vargas Vil and all the old spanish rock songs. Entonces que, pues, and ave maria seem to jump out of my mouth every three seconds. And I have been known to say 'ese man no sirve pa nada".

As I get older I will more than likely move to Colombia, I like the style of life, and the education and advantages I have had the luxury of growing up in the US have always given me an advantage in Colombia, and it is only helped that I have a deep understanding of Colombia's cultural mores. And oddly enough very much like my home town of New Orleans. Well, it could do with a little more of the seafood and cajun cooking I grew up with.

To anyone with colombian roots, if you can do several years there, in a row, do it, do it while you are young. Hike El Nevado, see Cartagena, wander around Medellin and Bogota. Get to know the guy with the tienda on the corner, the one that lets you pay him ever week for the beer you get on the way home at night.

And if you truly want to see pretty women I will share a family secret with you. And I know there are pretty women all over Colombia.

Manizales has 8 or so universities, and a large number of faculties are near each other.

There is a bar(are used to be) called San Carlos on the Avenida Santander(la 23) it is kind of a cuchitril but it is the epicenter of girls. When they all get out of class they walk by it heading towards hot spots en el cable. Thursday is the best day, because it is the night everyone goes out.

Sit down about 4:30 at a table on the sidewalk, order some beers and empanadas, and the desfile begins.

Legaleez for Complete Morons - A book for gringos in Colombia for who think they understand the nature of the law in a country where they cannot speak the language.

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adela says on Jul 3, 2009, 16:01:

Thank you Tasco. Your history and comments are so touching, practice and fun (¿aprendiste a bañarte con agua fría? great).

I read a lot of histories like this that never know how they end it.

Thanks also, to Theflatline.

I think the adoptees should look for their roots, for their family. Unfortunately not all the bio parents are educated enough to be found to the net, or because they are old and away of the net.

Màs fe, màs abrazos, màs besos, màs disculpas, màs visitas a nuestros amigos antiguos nos haràn màs plenos cada vez. (Wishing to practice my listening in English virtually)

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lpdiver says on Jul 6, 2009, 10:18:

Many biological parents don't want to be found. Something that should be carefully considered before embarking on that journey!

ts

Remember what the monkey says, "Fuck money it's free"

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