I know a lot of people will be confused and perplexed about the choice topic for today. ‘Foster family?’ what the hell does that even mean? The generally accepted definition for foster family has to do with government care. It means that the government of a country takes a child away from their parent, either because they are in jail or because they are assumed to be unfit to take care of their children. After taking the child away, the child is then placed in foster care meaning that he or she is given to a supposed better family to be taken care of until the parent is once again in a position to do so.
In this case however, the foster family in question is mine. And no, I wasn’t taken away from my parents at any stage. Besides I have lived in Nigeria all my life and I don’t think we operate that system in our country, yet. I have a foster family because of the travelling nature of my parents. I gave them the name foster parents when my mom first started to travel out of the country really often. They would step in to take care of my siblings and I.
Of course they were in my life before my mum started travelling. They became a part of my life in JSS1-3rd term and mom started travelling SSS1-2nd term. They had become a concrete part of my life even before they got the title foster parents. When we went out, they would introduce me as their daughter especially to people they are just meeting. The relationship that connected us was theirs and their pastor/theirs and their love for me.
We became so close that I would spend the weekends during my holidays back from school at their house and their only daughter at the time would spend most of the week days in my house. Their daughter was younger by exactly 2 years, being May 22nd and I being May 29th. But the age gap was just that-gap. It didn’t disturb or affect our relationship most of the times.
I was present for her primary school graduation and even then she was a tad too worldly and wise for her own good but those were what made her who she was.
It took a while to develop a relationship with the parents though but even that lack of relationship soon ebbed away. They came to see me a couple of times when I was still in the hostel in junior school with my parents and I began to develop a sense of respect for them as time went on.
Then I moved back home fully and I understood the depth of the relationship between them and my parents. Both families were broke at the same time and my foster sister and I were supposed to be moving on to new phases in our education alongside my elder brother. My elder brother had just begun Caleb University and had drained every one of cash as per starting year. So my foster sister and I were left to hold on before we moved to the new phases in our lives.
What struck me the most about the situation is the fact that they were determined that we would both move together and we wouldn’t leave anyone behind and we didn’t. Together our families were unstoppable.
Then we got to new phases together too. I finished senior secondary just in time to see my foster sister finish junior secondary. I had my graduation a few days before hers and my prom the day after her graduation. We went shopping for prom/graduation together and my foster mom was in charge of that plus our hair and makeup. She was fabulous at making us look expensive.
Everything was fine until we started having money problems in my family. My foster parents tried to bethere for us but I believe that my folks may have made it a tad difficult for them. Egos got hurt, pride got deflated, and it was a mess. My perfect happy family was ripped before my eyes.
The parents may not know this but we had merged. We had gone through too much together to just be friends, we had become family. My family was my family but my foster family was there for me whenever I needed them, no questions asked.
I used to believe I was the luckiest child in the world for having two families that loved me. I had grown to love my foster mother so much especially while she went through the not so easy motions of having her second child. That child had come to mean so much to me, like my own. I was willing to be there for her anytime just as I was for my younger sister. Believe it or not she had been the saving grace on the days leading to my appendicitis operation. She helped me forget my pain even for a few hours. We had developed a bond.
And she was snatched away from me by a rift caused strictly by miscommunication and wrong use of English, sad, right?
I know my parents expected me to pick sides when this “thing”, whatever the thing is started but I refuse to. I wasn’t given much choice in the matter but my foster parents were always in my mind. I prayed for them, and day dreamed about them and talked about them, a lot. I was counting down to the day when I would see them again.
I imagined everyday what my baby would be like, look like as she grew and what my friend would act like, and also how my foster parents would speak. It was all just imagination until I plucked up courage and started to call every now and then.
I guess I broke the final barrier when I went to see them on Sunday and it was the best action I had taken in a while. Now my baby is 3years old, my friend is done with secondary school and my other parents are still very much into each other. But most of all, I found they still love me. And there might still be hope for my big, strange, happy family to be reunited.
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