Left behind, but still smiling

When celebrities adopt, it’s not only their new child’s life that is affected, as Rachel Holloway finds out when she visits the orphanage where Madonna found her son.

When I worked in Malawi during my gap year in 2005, I had the privilege of spending time at the Home of Hope orphanage, just outside the country’s capital, Lilongwe. Back then the orphanage, though fairly well supported by Malawian standards, was little known to people outside Malawi itself. Two years later, however, the homes and faces of countless children who reside there have been splashed all over the world’s tabloids, glossies and broadsheets alike. The adoption of David Banda, who was just 13 months old at the beginning of the debacle last October, caused scores of journalists to descend upon the orphanage. What did they want? A snapshot of David, the latest addition to Madonna’s family.

My return to Home of Hope this summer finds little change at first glance; groups of girls chatter amongst themselves as I enter the compound, the youngest crying out, excited by the presence of an Azungu (white person). Life goes on the same as ever; the children rise at 5.30 for their morning devotions, eat at the same times and still giggle and laugh at the smallest things. As I settle back into life at the orphanage, I talk to one of the eldest, Chipiliro Chimtika, 19. Chipiliro, which means patience, is an intense character. Despite having lived at the orphanage for most of his life, he has a remarkably positive outlook and a great awareness of politics. It is he who eventually brings up the subject of the adoption.

He asks me how British people reacted to David’s adoption and is surprised when I inform him of the backlash. I ask how many days Madonna stayed at the orphanage before deciding on a child to adopt. He laughs shortly, and there is an awkward pause.

“Days?” he asks, somewhat incredulously. “She was here for just over two hours.” Malawians, for whom even a greeting can take up to 20 minutes, find this hurried western attitude confusing, if not inexcusably rude. She certainly didn’t abide by the law which states that foreign visitors must remain in Malawi for 18 months before officially adopting a Malawian-born child.

Chipiliro isn’t the only Malawian with a strong opinion on the subject. One friend, Aaron Maulidi, simply shakes his head when the ‘Madonna issue’ crops up, before quietly murmuring: “It’s bad, very bad. Her behaviour…it is not good.” As we talk I begin to get the feeling that there is deep resentment to the adoption. “Imagine,” he says, looking me in the eye, “if the process was reversed, and a Malawian picked a child from England to take back in a matter of hours.”

It must be taken into account that here it can take two hours to wait for a bus, and people cook slowly on fires, doing without the luxury of electricity. As I reflect on this, suddenly the few days that Madonna cumulatively spent in Malawi seem even more remarkable. Is it not ridiculous that the woman who has adopted this boy knows next to nothing about his country, his culture, or even his family?

Back at the Home of Hope, I meet some of Chipiliro’s friends who, having seen him talking to me, have some things to get off their own chests. Frank Rabbo, a laid-back sports fanatic who is popular with the girls at the orphanage, seems insistent that corruption within Malawi played a part in the hurried adoption. “The corruption, it is everywhere,” he laments. The growing circle of boys around us murmurs in agreement. “We are embarrassed by our country,” one boy admits.

Despite the attempts of President Bingu wa Mutharika’s Democractic Progressive Party to root out the problems that have crippled Malawi since the fall of President Hasting Banda’s regime in 1994, the boys insist that corruption still exists, from village chiefs to government officials. The motto ‘Stop Corruption; Develop Malawi’ plastered across billboards throughout the Republic suddenly seems somewhat ironic.

But what of David? Whilst most cannot deny that David’s quality of life will be much improved in England, this cannot make the adoption entirely acceptable in many people’s eyes. Elton Samuel, another Home of Hope orphan, reminds me of the implications of the cultural gap between England and Malawi. Elton tells me that he is concerned that his “little brother will no longer be a Malawian” having not heard the official language of Chichewa, or ever learned to cook the national dishes, or even understood the importance of dancing at a traditional festival. These may seem like insignificant details, but for a country ranked number one for poverty by the CIA World Factbook, where the average life expectancy is only 40, culture is one thing of which Malawians feel they can be proud. For David Banda to lose this heritage suggests to Malawians that their culture is worthless to the outside world.

Amid all the noise being made by the children at the orphanage, its founder, Reverend Chipeta, keeps markedly quiet. This dignified silence is significant. Here is a man who, despite his involvement in the Home since its foundation, was not once consulted by the government about the adoption of a child in his care.

As he proudly told me of the new developments since my last visit, and of his hope that enough money could be raised for two new houses, I found myself falling silent. Although I would have loved to hear his view on the adoption, I couldn’t quite bear to ruin the mood with the awkward questions that he has probably had to contend with for the last few years.

Sitting on a fallen tree by the side of the road, I have a final chat with Chipiliro and his friends. As we laugh and joke about the differences between our cultures, I mention that perhaps I will write about the boys in a newspaper when I get home. Chipiliro beams his huge, Malawian smile at me and nods. “It is good for people to know how we feel about these things.”

Looking out across the scrubland as I travel back, I conclude that Chipiliro is right; it is good for people to know how Malawians feel. Madonna herself is not entirely to blame for such oversight, but her actions in Malawi over the past year have highlighted a broader issue: that the West can sometimes act in a way that seems to overlook the feelings of people in smaller, non-western nations.

As Malawians see it, Madonna’s actions imply that having greater wealth is, for us Azungus, an adequate excuse for bypassing the people and laws of countries that are desperately trying to develop and be considered equals in the international arena.