All I want is a hug from my mother

Twenty nine years ago, Jane Ruguru made a small decision that had a huge impact on her life. She was walking home with her friend and decided to use a different route. She bade her friend goodbye and trudged on, only to stumble on an unexpected scene.

A tiny baby that she estimated to be a few weeks’ old lay wrapped in a leso and a blanket; darkened by the scorching sun. But he seemed healthy. It was a baby boy. She picked him, went home with him and named him Ibrahim Mburu.

The following day, Jane took Ibrahim with her to work. She was a class nanny at St Stephen's Kindergarten School in Karen. She informed the owner of the school, Suzanne Allan, and the class teacher, Samantha Denis, that she was now a mum. Ibrahim was her first child. They promised to support Jane in all ways they could, a promise that they kept. They would give Jane food, medicine and clothes for the baby when the need arose.

That was in 1991. Fast-forward to today: Ibrahim is a grown man searching for his biological mother. All he knows about his birth story is from hearsay.

“Every person I have spoken to in an attempt to find out about my mother says I was rescued from the bush. No one seems to have clear details about her or my birth,” he says.

“Besides, it has become difficult to resolve my birth mystery after 29 years as that is a long time. Most people who might have had information about me and my birth are most likely dead,” he adds.

A frustrating process

He would probably never have known that the woman who brought him up was not his biological mum, had he not decided to apply for a passport.

Even when she passed on in 2008 when Ibrahim was in Form Two, no one revealed to him then that he was adopted. Before her death, Jane had written a will in presence of relatives and a local chief, leaving all her property to Ibrahim but still, he did not know that Jane was not his biological mother.

It was while in college studying to be an aerospace engineer and he needed to apply for a passport due to the frequent travels demanded by the career. He would later get the truth from a friend of his foster mother.

“I had no official birth document, and so none of the staff in the offices I visited seemed to know how to assist me. I would be tossed from offices in Nyayo House to the birth certificate application offices in Upper Hill, and the process was very frustrating for me,” he says.

“The officials would ask me for the birth certificate and I would tell them I am an orphan that I have no document with me or at home showing where I was born. They would then send me to another office, where I would repeat the story, and still not get any help,” he says.

This daunting process took so long that he almost gave up.

I miss you terribly.

During this time, Ibrahim lived at Suzanne Allan’s house; the owner of the school where Jane used to work. She hosted him after Jane had died.

Suzzane had a chef named Ebby, who used to be Jane’s friend and she would see Ibrahim come home every evening frustrated from the unsuccessful passport application.

At last, the truth

“After a long day making efforts to get the passport, Ebby called and sat me down,” he says.

“She told me that it was unsettling for her watching me get frustrated for lack of proper documentation, yet she knew where my challenges came from. Still, I could tell that she was uneasy trying to reveal what she knew.”

“It was also not easy for her to tell me, I could tell, she looked conflicted, not sure whether Jane would have approved of her telling me this truth.”

That was the first day Ibrahim heard about his origin, something he had never even eavesdropped from neighbours’ or relatives’ talks.

“Ebby took time before revealing the truth to me. She was fidgety and started by giving me a pep talk on how Jane loved me. At that instance, it did not occur to me that she was about to tell me about my origin,” he adds.

 A letter

“At first, I thought she was pulling my leg but immediately, I remembered a letter I had come across a long time ago— a school transfer request letter when I was moving from Hekima Primary School to Karen C Primary School. The heading read Re: Transfer request of Ibrahim Mburu, the adopted son of Jane Ruguru, and at that point, I knew Ebby was telling the truth.”

Ibrahim explains that much as he had seen the word adopted on that letter many times, he did not know what the word meant and thus it slipped his mind.

He had the letter tucked somewhere in his documents in the house. He rummaged for it and walked with it to Suzanne’s home office and handed her the letter.

After a few pleasantries with Ibrahim, she opened the letter and when she read the heading, she pushed back her swivel chair, removed her glasses and broke into tears. She sobbed for a while.

She then took the phone and called Samantha Dennis, the teacher in whose class Jane worked as a nanny and told her, “Mburu just found out about the letter,” and hang up.

Samantha and Suzanne knew about the letter because they had helped Jane write it.

She then explained to Ibrahim the same story that chef Ebby had told him, of how he was picked and the process of Jane fostering him legally had been started. She then asked him if he had come across any adoption papers. When Ibrahim said no, she said Jane might have destroyed them.

‘Look, we have the same fingers!’

Ibrahim does not remember if there were any differences in character or looks between him and his mother. Apart from him being dark-skinned and his mum lighter in complexion, everything else was a normal mum-son relationship. He was an extroverted boy, had an active and happy childhood and his mum provided him with the best life she could afford.

“I remember one day she was bathing me and I lifted one of her fingers and excitedly told her, ‘Mum, look our fingers look alike.’”

“I still remember the way she reacted and could tell that she was shocked. She did not answer but continued bathing me.”

Another memory about his mum that he vividly remembers was a day they were coming home from a family gathering upcountry. Jane, out of the blues, told him, “Ibrahim, always remember these are not your people.”

He did not put much thought to it, but years later, it made sense. When Jane died, Ibrahim, a Form Two student then, carried the big burden of burying his mother, sourcing for funds and organising for the funeral. When he wedded four years ago, none of the relatives from his mother’s side came, save for one uncle who walked him down the aisle. His dowry negotiation process was lonely, a sad reminder that he did not have biological relatives to stand by him.

Ibrahim estimates that Jane could have been forty years when she rescued him. He also remembers that there was a man who was in a relationship with Jane before she passed on.

“I called this man dad, but looking back now, I can tell he was more of a partner to my mother than a husband. He took care of me well, picked me from school and brought home groceries once in a while. Whether he knew the truth about my birth, I don’t know. And neither his children know about my story,” he says.

29 years of mystery

When Ibrahim has time, he trawls the web to see if there is anything that can connect him to his birth mother. He recently posted in a Facebook group called ‘Parenting Group’ asking for help to trace his birth mother. It read, in part: “In the year 1991, a woman in Karen, Nairobi left a tiny little boy of about two weeks old, wrapped warmly and carefully abandoned somewhere around Marula Lane (geolocation - 1°20'12.36"S, 36°42'44.76"E) and its environs.”

He has also given his story in a vernacular radio station, seeking his mother but he was not successful. Much as he is looking for closure, and a happy ending, he knows the story may not end the way he wants it to.

“I'm aware that chances are it might not end up as I truly desire. However, I will have done my best in finding my mother. At the end of it all, the Lord’s will shall prevail,” he says.

According to psychologist Alex Munyere, the craving Ibrahim has to know his birth mum is a “quest to quench an inward void that nothing else can solve it.”

“Knowing his cradle is a void that will need to be filled and it will only be sorted by him knowing his birth mother. He is looking for a sense of belonging and wants to be identified with people of his blood. There is a gratification you get from knowing where you came from,” says Mr Munyere.

Anne Mumbi Mwangi, a clinical psychologist with The True North Society Kenya, says that when one is abandoned, the psychological damage affects one even in adulthood. People often question themselves, wondering whether they were not good enough as children to warrant abandonment, or if they were not lovable.

“These questions and many more may be asked at the height of problems. They would have the deficit feeling of “my mother would have known how to solve this problem like other mothers “would most definitely come to play,” she says.

It has taken a lot of effort for him to get information on his biological mum. He discovered that Jane managed to keep the story under wraps. He also realised that he is not keen on knowing about his birth father.

“I don’t know why I am not keen on looking for my father, though I would not mind knowing him. I naturally feel drawn to knowing my mother. Maybe if the story of my rescue was about my dad, I would follow it up,” he says.

In the quietness of his thoughts, he wonders where his biological mum is. He will stare at his wife’s siblings and wonder how it feels to have someone with whom you are related.

“I have had vivid dreams about my mother, which I believe are true visions of who she is. In the dreams, she is well to do, lives a lavish life and got other two children. She has already told the children about me and they all wish to meet me,” he says.

He always wonders what could have happened had he been raised by his genetic parents. Would he have attended the affluent schools? Samantha Dennis and Suzzane Allan made sure Ibrahim got the best education. Would he have had the tough stints he experienced when tarmacking for a job?

They are answers he will never know but in the Facebook post, he said he had forgiven his birth mum: “Mum, if you are out there, please come hug your son. I forgave you eight years ago when I learnt about my identity. I miss you and my siblings too and hope to have a portion of an undeserved privilege to see your face. I am married but still cry like a child at the thought of you, mommy. My heart will skip with joy if you just make me one of your children once more.”

He concludes: “I miss you terribly.”

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