After a traumatic failed adoption from India several years ago, my husband and I eventually applied to adopt from Bulgaria. At the time we started the process, Bulgaria had just revamped its international program; we believed that this would ensure an ethical, transparent process. We were also drawn to this Eastern European country because many of the children in need of adoption were of Roma (Gypsy) ancestry. Linguists and historians believe the Romani people migrated to Europe from India about 1,000 years ago; many words in their language match words in Sanskrit, Hindi and other Indian languages. (Clearly, India was still tugging at our hearts.) After waiting for a referral from Bulgaria for over a year we opted to move on, but even today, I still take a special interest in the plight of vulnerable children and families there.
Yesterday the BBC broke the news of a trafficking scheme involving Roma women, who were being smuggled into Greece to deliver babies for illegal adoption. Police arrested a Bulgarian couple for organizing the racket in which Greek attorneys and judges are also said to be complicit.
Bulgaria's trafficking problems are longstanding; the reforms that seemed so promising at the time we applied to adopt there have proved ineffective at curbing trafficking for adoption within Europe. A 2005 BBC report described the way these illegal rackets function:
It works like this: the heavily pregnant women are taken either by force or free will on tourist visas across the border to Greece, or sometimes to Italy.
The "pimps", or organisers, are usually local and known to the women, who give birth in hospital.
With the collusion of the doctor, pimp, lawyer and new family, the baby is claimed by the new "father" and registered as his.
The whole transaction costs about £18,000 and can take less than a week.
The women get about £2,000 for a girl and £10,000 for a boy.
Though the Romani people constitute the third largest ethnic group in Bulgaria, they suffer intense discrimination; politicians have been known to intentionally stoke this prejudice and incite violence against them for their own gain. This ugly discrimination means that a disproportionate number of Romani children end up in Bulgaria's state-run orphanages.
Two years ago, documentary filmmaker Kate Blewett took her cameras inside a Bulgarian orphanage for the disabled. The resulting film, Bulgaria's Abandoned Children, sparked an international outcry that echoed the dramatic response to Blewett's best known work, The Dying Rooms, the award-winning expose about China's abysmally neglectful institutions for children. Ultimately, the Bulgarian government was shamed into improving its treatment of disabled and mentally challenged children. The BBC has a follow up story here on some of the Bulgarian children seen in Blewett's film. The transformation in the children is amazing now that they are receiving actual care instead of state-sanctioned neglect and abuse.
Bulgaria maintains the appearance of international adoption program, but according to the Bulgarian NGO Vesta, in 2008 just 402 children were placed with foreign families. Vesta, which works to promote adoption and overall child welfare, makes a lot of information available on its website, much of it unintentionally discouraging. For example, it's unclear how many children live in Bulgarian orphanages, but it's clear that thousands of kids who should be designated as adoptable are not on the eligibility rolls and thus have no chance of ever having a family.
Looking at the total picture for children in Bulgaria, I feel incredibly frustrated and sad, for the problems in this struggling nation reflect the problems in so many countries:
- a government unable/unwilling to address persistent trafficking problems
- a government unable/unwilling to address the societal factors that undermine the stability of families
- a government unable/unwilling to develop and promote a vigorous domestic adoption program for children in need
- a government unable/unwilling to maintain an appropriate inter-country adoption program
People like Kate Blewett and groups like Vesta are thankfully making a difference -- but what can the rest of us do?
Thanks to Sara Dillon and her blog for pointing me toward the Kate Blewett story.
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