Sumi was adopted and found her mother after 35 years: 'I screamed when she left us, but she didn't look back'

Sumi Kasiyo (48) was almost six when she was adopted. For years she was angry with her biological mother, who had given up her and her sister. Yet she sought her out in 2014. “I hoped she had missed me. But she asked if she could have my jewelry and the clothes I was wearing.”

Adopted

“I used to always watch Spoorloos. I especially liked the stories of adoptees who were reunited with their biological family after so many years. Because I was adopted from Indonesia myself, I felt very sorry for them. At the same time, it was also confronting, because I knew that a reunion with my own biological mother would never take place. I didn't need to see her anymore. Why would I? When I was five, she had handed over me and my sister, Suyatmi, three years her senior, promising to pick us up later.

I waited for her for weeks. Even when my sister and I were in the Netherlands, I missed my mother terribly. But no matter how much I cried, she didn't come for us. I felt pushed aside. It led to many fits of anger and a severe identity crisis. Why didn't my mother want me? And who was I really: Sumiatin, the name my parents gave me when I was born? Or Petra, the name I went by since my adoption?

As young as I was, I was determined to forget about my birth mother. But after my sister tracked down our mother in Indonesia in 2005, it started to gnaw at me: I wanted to go back to my homeland and see my mother. Maybe I finally got the answers I've longed for. Well, things went a little differently…”

Close bond

“I come from a family of six children, one boy and five girls. We lived on the Indonesian island of Java, where my parents worked in the fields in agriculture. I was the youngest and as a little girl I often found myself tied on my mother's back while she worked. We were very close. With the whole family, by the way, because at night the eight of us slept on a large bamboo bed.

Sadly, my father died of cardiac arrest when I was five. I was young, of course, but I can still see how sad my mother was. And probably desperate too, because what was she to do alone, with so many children? One day, I think a few months after the death of my father, I was picked up by a man and a woman together with Suyatmi. I didn't know them, but they introduced themselves as my aunt and uncle. Why they picked us up and where we were going I didn't know. All my mother said was that we should go with them. She would pick us up later.”

At the mercy of strangers

“That same day Suyatmi and I ended up in a children's home. Most of all, I remember crying for our mother for hours. My sister was a bit quieter, perhaps because she was older and also realized that crying was no use. We were at the mercy of strange people and we had to accept that. A few weeks later we were adopted together.

Our Dutch adoptive parents were told that our own parents could no longer take care of us. And that we were well informed about the adoption. But we didn't know anything. My mother had stopped by once in the meantime to pick us up. I saw her, but she was turned away. She left us without any resistance. I didn't know why. I called out to her, screaming and crying, but she didn't look back.”

Different from other kids

“I didn't understand it all, but when I saw my adoptive mother, I immediately felt familiar with her. She radiated so much warmth. My sister was more reserved. She was clearly out of the woods and it took quite a while before she also opened up to our new parents. We didn't talk about it with each other, we were much too young for that.

We got new names from our adoptive parents. That's how I became Pietertje Sumiatin, called Petra, and my sister Margriet Suyatmi, called Margré. We ended up in the north of the Netherlands, where our adoptive parents had a farm. Not only did we get used to the Dutch climate, our new environment also felt strange. Everyone in the village was white and only my sister and I were brown. This made me feel watched.

It was, because there were always children who touched my dark skin and hair. No idea why, but I never felt comfortable with it. In addition, I could be jealous when I saw other girls having fun with their mother. My adoptive mother and I often cuddled – I had a great need for physical contact as a child – but I didn't feel the same thing: those other daughters and mothers looked alike and we weren't.”

Depressed

“I became depressed when I was 16. All I could do was cry and I had almost no energy left. My adoptive parents didn't understand much of it. I couldn't quite place my gloomy feelings myself. Or rather: I didn't link them to my adoption, but now I do. As a child I had suffered so many traumas, it made sense that I felt that way. Yet I was often told by my adoptive parents that I should not be so difficult.

They didn't understand that I was always so sad and had frequent tantrums. Now I think: there was absolutely no room with them for everything I had experienced. It was not talked about. The only thing my adoptive mother thought was important was that I would later look for my biological mother. Then I could tell her that I had come to the right place, because according to her I was obliged to do so. Something that made me very angry. I didn't choose to be adopted, did I? Then why did I owe my birth mother anything? Wasn't it the other way around? If she really cared about me, she wouldn't have given up on me, would she?"

Shocking news

“Ten years later my sister went back to Indonesia. Through someone she had come into contact with someone who knew our biological mother and, unlike me, she wanted to contact her. That was not between us, by the way. Although we didn't really talk about our adoption as adults either – we worked it out in our own way – I was very curious to see how her meeting with our mother would go.

It turned out that she had a lot to tell me. That's how she found out that our mother had been given money for our adoption – how much she didn't know – and that the birth dates on our adoption papers had been forged. Suyatmi and I were not born at all on June 14, 1973 (she) and December 10, 1974 (I), but on May 17, 1970 (she) and July 6, 1973 (I). That meant my sister was three years older than we thought and I was over a year. And all because otherwise we shouldn't have been adopted.

At that time, the rule applied that children from Indonesia up to the age of six could be given up for adoption, after that no more. And because Suyatmi and I were small for our age, we could easily pass for younger. That is why our two dates of birth were adjusted for convenience, so that it was less noticeable. I heard it furious. You see, I thought. That's why I never had to see my mother again. Not only had she given us up for money, but she had taken our entire identity away from us by indirectly agreeing to an obviously illegal adoption.

My adoptive parents did not know this. I don't know if my birth mother knew before she sent us with that man and woman, but I really felt like my whole life was a lie."

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