[Read]...Life after orphanage: The pains, the pleasure

Although they were raised in unusual circumstances, three orphans rise above initial challenges to succeed in their chosen careers.

Unlike most of his peers, Richard (surname withheld) has an unusual personal history. He was an unwanted child, abandoned in a huge refuse dump in the Isolo area of Lagos and left to die or be picked up by kind-hearted Nigerians.

“I was abandoned at the refuse dump at Oke Afa. I was only seven days old then. Insects ate up my left eye and it became cancerous. The eye had to be removed so that the cancerous growth would not spread to the right eye,” he says.

Indeed, with one eye already rotting away, Richard was picked up by a kind-hearted Nigerian and taken to the SOS Children’s Village, Isolo. But the folks at the orphanage kept this part of his personal history to themselves until he was about 18 or 19 years old.

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In a society where orphans are nearly always stigmatised and sometimes treated like social outcasts, it is hard to imagine the emotional pain that Richard must have suffered on account of this handicap. But, over the years, he managed to develop a thick skin against unkind remarks aimed at disparaging his condition.

“I have been living with one eye all these years and I don’t care what anybody else says about it. For me, this is not an issue. Painful as it sounds, I have accepted it and I am already used to it,” he says.

Like Richard, Ajibade Omisade and Babatunde Willoughby were also raised in orphanages. They spent most of their lives growing up in company with other children and learning to survive against all odds.

Today, Richard is a senior executive with the advertising agency. Bubbling with self-confidence, he tells our correspondent that working for the company is the best decision he has ever made. He is not only doing well at his job, he is also comfortable and now looks forward to a prosperous future.

But success did not come without some challenges. “I had a lot of challenges. There were times when I felt really discouraged. At such times, I would ask myself why things were so tough for me. Was it because of my status as an orphan that things were not working well for me? I would ask myself if it was because I had no biological parents, uncles, aunts and cousins that I was having problems charting a course in life. It was quite frustrating. But for the fact that I was focused all the while, I might not have been able to stand on my feet,” he says.

Omisade is a graduate of Mass Communications at Bowen University in Iwo, Osun State. Apart from being a presenter with Concept Radio, he seems to have a bright future laid out before him as an actor. As a matter of fact, he was the first runner-up in the last edition of the Amstel Malta Box Office reality TV talent hunt show.

He has appeared in Tinsel, a popular drama series broadcast on satellite TV, and Living in Lagos alongside more established and popular actors and actresses. At 30 years, perhaps it would be correct to assume that this dashing and seemingly ambitious man is on his to becoming an A-list actor in Nigeria.

Also, Willoughby holds a Masters degree in human relations and international relations from the Lagos State University, Ojo.

Memories of childhood

In separate interviews with our correspondent, all three agreed that life in a typical Nigerian orphanage was far from being rosy all the time. It had its dark and bright sides. There were challenges, most of which directly impacted on the children and helped to shape their personalities, their responses to the society and their future in various ways.

“Growing up at the Ijamido Children’s Home was challenging in many ways,” Willoughby says. “I remember that we used to walk all the way to school and back. There were no school buses in those days. Sometimes, we had difficulty feeding three times in a day. Only few people knew that orphanages existed and were willing to help. What kept us going was the love that we experienced at the Home and the knowledge that we were appreciated. Each time we were outside the premises of the Home,  it was this knowledge, which instilled in us a deep sense of security, and the warm atmosphere that always made us look forward to coming back,” Willoughby says.

On the other hand, Omisade recalls memories of his childhood at the village with nostalgia. “I joined the SOS Village, Isolo in 1990. I was eight years old then. For me, that was a developmental stage in my life. When I arrived in the institution I was still quite vulnerable and confused. Initially I kept asking myself where I was. But in no time I got used to the place. I quickly adapted to the communal life and atmosphere in the village.

“It was a pleasant experience being surrounded by people who cared for me. There was so much love in the village. As a child,  that was what mastered most to me. Till date, I have not found the right words to describe how it felt to live in such a place. I wouldn’t say that we were pampered. We were treated the way any loving parent would treat his own children,” he says.

There are memories of generous donations to the children of the village by well-meaning Nigerians, leisure rides in air-conditioned luxury buses to Dodan Barracks in the Obalende area of Lagos, which used to be the seat of power during the period of military rule in the country; as well as several fun trips to amusement parks and the Sheraton Hotel and Towers, especially during festive periods.

“Nigerians have been very hospitable and generous to us at the village. Apart from helping to meet our needs, they ensured that we went to school,” he says.

Despised by neighbours

Discipline has always been a fundamental issue in most orphanages across the country. Some people are apprehensive that some of the operators of the charity homes have mixed – if not negative – mindsets. But many of those who run such institutions are emphatic about raising disciplined children. There are laid down rules and offenders were often punished.

Omisade notes that while growing up at the SOS Village, he was exposed to what he describes as the ‘core Nigerian’ brand of discipline.

“If you did something wrong, you would be punished for it. As much as we were treated just like other children, we were not pampered. We were loved, but we were not spared the sting of the whip whenever we erred. The fact that we were orphans made no difference. So, we learnt to be disciplined just like other children. Apart from this, we were taught to love and appreciate one another, to uphold moral values in the society and to respect our elders,” he says.

The same rules applied in Ijamido Children’s Home. During an interview with our correspondent, the Executive Director of the Home, Mrs. Abosede Obakoya, who, incidentally, was the first registered baby in the orphanage, indicated that the institution thrived on rules. The enforcement of such rules and punishment is the joint responsibility of the disciplinary committee and a social welfare department set up for that purpose.

But there was a problem. Most people, especially those living near the orphanage, looked down on the children all the time. They had formed the habit of addressing the latter in a very abusive manner and causing them harm psychologically.

“People outside the home always cast aspersions at us in those days. They called us ‘Omo Ijoba’ (children of the government), which was quite derogatory. At every opportunity they would tell us that we had no biological parents,” Willoughby recalls.

Each time the children returned to the orphanage, smarting from the abuses and insults, and reported the matter to their mother and elder siblings, the latter would rise with anger and protest the harassment.

“On such occasions, we always felt proud that we had such backing from our people. At the same time, we were filled with a sense of responsibility and the urge to always rise in defence of others that were similarly oppressed,” Willoughby adds.

Breaking out

A rougher and more competitive world, no doubt, lies beyond the walls of every orphanage. Just like everything else in life, there is always a time to leave the comfort and warmth of the latter for the uncertainty in the former.

Omisade found himself in such a situation shortly before he completed the mandatory National Youth Service Corps scheme. Suddenly in 2008, the rite of resettling outside the SOS Village, as is the custom in that institution, crept up on him.

He explains, “When a child attains a particular age and acquires certain skills, then it is time to help settle down to living independently so that the orphanage could concentrate on other children. Usually he is given a certain amount of money to take care of his upkeep and accommodation for a period of time. Afterwards he is expected to break out on his own.  This was what happened in my case.

“I was officially resettled after completing the national youth service in 2008. Then I knew it was time for me to break out. Before then, I was already fully involved in show business. When I eventually broke out, I was practically on my own and responsible for myself. I started doing things on my own. To tell the truth, it was not an easy experience at all,” he says.

Richard officially broke out from the orphanage two years after Omisade left. Before then, he almost missed the opportunity to go to university.

“When I was ripe enough for university education, the management of the SOS Village said they had decided not to send us to private universities again. I cried a lot in those days because I wanted to go to university and finish in four years. But the authorities said they already had about 35 children studying in private universities and they could not cope with having more enrolled in similar institutions,” he says.

Along the line, an opportunity came in the form of a scholarship. To win the scholarship, the applicants were made to write an essay and pass it. Richard wrote the essay alongside other children at the orphanage and emerged one of the winners of the scholarship.

Before leaving the university, Richard already knew where he was heading to. He knew he was cut out for the advertising industry and so, focused on getting a job from there.

After the national youth service, he faced a very serious challenge: he had to find a job. So, he mailed his curricula vitae to 75 different prospective employers.

“I wanted to work in a media independent agency. It wasn’t easy, but I was confident that one or two of the companies would invite me for an interview. The first invitation came from the proprietor of Chrisland School, Lagos, Mrs. Winnifred Awosika. She wanted me to be her personal assistant. Then I got a phone call from a leading advertising agency in the country, reminding me that I was supposed to have a meeting with the managing director of the company. I had to rush down to the office and I got a job,” he says.

No brother, no uncle, no cousin

Omisade and Richard owe their successes, so far, to the kind of upbringing they had at the SOS Village in Isolo, Lagos.

 “The kind of life you encounter after the orphanage depends a lot on how you lived in the institution. For example, the SOS Village gives you the opportunity to be whatever you want to be. If you are not academically inclined, you go for vocational training. If you focus on what you are doing, you won’t feel the transition from the orphanage to the larger society. Instead, you will blend easily. In my case, I didn’t feel anything,” Richard remarks.

Similarly, Willoughby, believes he would never have made much progress in life but for the fact that he was raised in an orphanage where he learnt to be focused, resourceful and to work hard towards achieving his goals in life.

But contrary to Omisade’s expectation, life after the orphanage turned out to be a nightmare of sorts. For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to be alone in the world. That was when a vacuum that he never really believed existed reared up its head. He calls it the ‘loophole’ in his life.

“I realised what it means to be disconnected from one’s blood relations. When I started relating as an adult with other people, who grew up in a normal family setting — knowing their biological parents — the full import of my status as an orphan with no blood relations to relate with finally dawned on me. There was no uncle, aunt, cousins or brother to go to for assistance. It was just me alone in the world. At a point I said to myself: ‘So, this is what it means to be an orphan? In Nigeria, when people know that you are an orphan, there is an X-factor on you. You automatically become an outcast. This is the kind of thing I experienced,” he notes.

‘My daughter cannot marry an orphan’

Life as a budding actor proved tougher than Omisade had imagined. Every step of the way appeared to be strewn with thorns. Even getting auditioned and accepted for a role in Tinsel was difficult.

“Initially I was not accepted because I was an orphan. Fortunately, one of the judges, a lady who had actually seen me act during AMBO, decided to give me an opportunity to prove myself. I thank God that I didn’t disappoint her.

“Before then, I had met some people for help. But each time, they would ask me, ‘Who are you, who do you know and what do you have?’ Somebody once took my resume and, after skimming through it, asked, ‘You mean that you have achieved all this without the backing of anybody?,” he says.

Also, Richard has felt the sting of the ‘loophole’ on many occasions and each time, he yearned to find and reconnect with his real parents.

He says, “To be realistic, I think the only person on earth who does not feel the need to be close to his biological parents is the person that lacks blood in his veins. As long as you have blood in your veins, you will have the urge, even wish, to reconnect with them.

“Consider that you are in school and watch the parents of your colleagues coming to visit them. You will definitely feel a vacuum. There is something missing in your life and you want to fill it. Most of the time in the past, I felt the urge to meet my real parents. But, I thank God that everything is okay now.”

He had felt a deep sense of personal loss when his six-year relationship with his girlfriend broke up because her parents could not cope with the fact that he was an orphan.

 “She wanted me for keeps, but her parents thought differently. Probably they had felt uncomfortable with the fact that I had no tangible background. We dated for six years. But she left reluctantly,” he says.

For Willoughby, life after the orphanage, though laced with a few hard-won successes, has been tough. But he sees himself as capable of solving his own problems.

“I think I was sufficiently prepared to face the challenges of living outside the orphanage. Although it has not been easy coping without the usual support from the environment where I grew up, I have what it takes to succeed on my own outside the home. Everywhere I go, I always find myself leading other people towards achieving goals. I think this is the result of the orientation I had back in the orphanage,” Willoughby says.

Even as a youngster, he had always known that the conditions at Ijamido Children’s Home were a lot different from what obtained in the larger society. While the latter is a much tougher, even brutal — a place where the strong feed on the weak to survive — the orphanage presents a more humane setting and atmosphere to co-exist with other people.

“They are two different worlds entirely,” he observes.

All the same, Willoughby’s ties with the orphanage remain intact, especially now that he is the Chief Operating Officer of the Ijamido Children’s Home. Although he is married with three children and lives with his family in the same neighbourhood as the orphanage, he practically runs the place in the absence of Obakoya, who seems to be in the USA most of the year.

And for Richard and Omisade, each time they think of the past, they are filled with gratitude to God.

 “My job is moving on smoothly and I am comfortable. My next plan is to start my own family,” Richard says, with a note of fulfilment.

- Chux Ohai (Punch)

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