Did this happen to me also? Korean adoptees question their past and ask how to find their families

Did this happen to me also? Korean adoptees question their past and ask how to find their families
The investigation reported dubious child-gathering practices and fraudulent paperwork involving South Korea’s foreign adoption program. (AP)
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Updated 04 October 2024
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Did this happen to me also? Korean adoptees question their past and ask how to find their families

Did this happen to me also? Korean adoptees question their past and ask how to find their families
  • The investigation reported dubious child-gathering practices and fraudulent paperwork involving South Korea’s foreign adoption program

SEOUL: Dozens of South Korean adoptees, many in tears, have responded to an investigation led by The Associated Press and documented by Frontline (PBS) last week on Korean adoptions. The investigation reported dubious child-gathering practices and fraudulent paperwork involving South Korea’s foreign adoption program, which peaked in the 1970s and `80s amid huge Western demands for babies.
Here are some of the problems adoptees who responded say they faced, along with tips for finding histories and birth families.
KYLA POSTREL — Adoption paperwork tells multiple stories
Kyla Postrel’s paperwork tells two different stories, neither of which she’s sure is true.
After a DNA test last year, Postrel found a half-brother who was also adopted to the West. Comparing their paperwork made her even more skeptical of the stories they’d been told. But part of her is reluctant to keep looking “for something that may or may not exist and could be absolutely devastating.”
She has been flooded with messages from other adoptees looking for help, and tells them not to be disappointed if they can’t track down their stories.
“I just don’t want any adoptees feeling like their life is a lie,” she says. “Their life is everything that they’ve built since then.”
If her birth mother is still out there, Postrel would want her to know her daughter has had a good life.
CODY DUET — Not enough information in the file
Cody Duet, adopted to rural Louisiana in 1986, requested his full file a decade ago. He got back less than one page, saying his mother was a young factory worker, his father was unknown and there was nothing more they were required to give him.
“It was probably one of the most angry moments in my life,” Duet says. “Who are you to tell me that I don’t get to know who I am?”
He fell into a depression and couldn’t sleep. He struggled with abandonment, like he was easy to get rid of, easy not to love. But now, he wonders, was that story even true?
The AP investigation found that children were systemically listed as abandoned, even though researchers have found that the vast majority had known relatives.
Now Duet wants to resume his search. He wants to find his mother, to tell her he’s reached a point in his life that he’s proud of.
AMY McFADDEN — Some adoptees don’t know what to believe
Amy McFadden always believed what the adoption agency told her parents — that she was abandoned on a staircase at 5 weeks old.
Adopted to the United States in 1975, she’d heard stories about fraudulent adoptions, but always thought of them as one-off problems that had nothing to do with her. She’s grateful for her American life and close to her adoptive parents, and never felt the longing so many other adoptees do to reconnect with their roots.
But when she found out from the AP stories that mothers in South Korea have searched for their missing children for decades, she says, she was in shock for three days. Waves of nausea radiated over her.
She wants to submit her DNA, in case a family has been looking for her.
CALLIE CHAMBERLAIN — Not everyone has a happy ending
For Callie Chamberlain, waiting for word on whether her birth parents wanted to connect felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.
Her original documents said her mother was young, unmarried and uneducated, she says. Her full files from the South Korean agency contained a different story: Her mother was married and she was born of an affair. DNA testing showed both stories were untrue, and identified her mother and father as married both back then and now.
When they connected, her mother said she’d nearly died giving birth. The family was poor. Disoriented from labor and medications, her mother said she only vaguely remembered hospital staff insisting she was very sick and the child deserved a better home. The baby disappeared the next day. She lived with that shame for years, and the entire family searched for Chamberlain.
They have now invited her — and her adoptive family — with open arms. But Chamberlain has met many without such happy endings, and feels a sort of survivor’s guilt. She also questions the belief that reunions will answer all questions and make you whole.
“There is so much grief and there’s so much sorrow,” she says. “There’s this sense of death. And then there’s also so much that gets to be born. It’s an ancestral sorrow that I can feel sometimes, like this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
She has learned of a Korean cultural concept called “han,” an existential and endless grief, born from colonization, war, poverty and the line that cleaves Korea into North and South, splitting families for generations. “That’s something we experience too,” she said. “We are Koreans.”
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Here are some steps Korean adoptees could take to learn more about their past:
Do birth family searches
Adoptees can first request information from their adoption agencies. If they don’t get results from agencies, they can contact the South Korean government’s National Center for the Rights of the Child as a second step.
Birth searches can take months and aren’t always successful. Less than a fifth of 15,000 adoptees who have asked the government for help with family searches since 2012 have managed to reunite with relatives, according to data obtained by AP. Failures are often caused by inaccurate records or the practice of describing children as abandoned even when they had known parents.
Many adoptees also criticize the consent process for reunions. Adoption agencies and the NCRC can only use traditional mail, and only up to three times, to contact birth parents for their consent to provide personal details to adoptees and meet them. Privacy laws prevent agency and NCRC workers from accessing birth parents’ phone numbers. Still, the Korean-language adoption documents kept by South Korean agencies often have more background information than translated files sent to Western adoptive parents.
When they fail to locate birth parents, NCRC may recommend that adoptees register their DNA with South Korean police or diplomatic offices, or help them publish their stories in South Korean media.
Take a DNA test
Frustrated with search failures and unreliable records, many Korean adoptees in recent years have attempted to reconnect with their birth families through DNA. Adoptees can register their DNA with a South Korean embassy or consulate in the country where they live. They can also register their DNA with a local police station if they travel to South Korea.
DNA testing isn’t common in South Korea, and the process usually depends on whether the birth family had also been trying to find the adoptee through DNA. Once collected at diplomatic or police offices, adoptees’ genetic information is cross-checked with South Korea’s national DNA database for missing persons. When there is a match, the NCRC takes steps to arrange a reunion.
Some adoptees have also found birth relatives through commercial DNA tests popular in the West. The nonprofit group 325 Kamra helps South Korean adoptees and birth families reunite through DNA, by allowing adoptees to upload their commercial test results to a database or providing test kits.
Join adoptee and volunteer groups
There are various Facebook groups — some open, others closed for adoptees only — where adoptees talk about their lives and interactions with adoption agencies.
One of the most active pages is run by Banet, a volunteer group named after the Korean word for newborn baby clothing. The group helps adoptees search for birth families, connects them with government and police, and provides translation during meetings with Korean relatives.
Some websites are tailored to adoptees sharing the same agency, such as Paperslip, which helps adoptees placed through Korea Social Service with birth family searches and adoption document requests.
The Seoul-based nonprofit Global Overseas Adoptees’ Link assists adoptees with birth family searches as well as language education, social events and obtaining visas for employment in South Korea. KoRoot, another Seoul-based civic group, also helps adoptees searching for their families and backgrounds and runs advocacy programs.


Think you can bellow like a stag? German hunters compete in a national deer calling championship

Think you can bellow like a stag? German hunters compete in a national deer calling championship
Updated 02 February 2025
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Think you can bellow like a stag? German hunters compete in a national deer calling championship

Think you can bellow like a stag? German hunters compete in a national deer calling championship
  • Unique tradition goes back hundreds of years and was initially aimed at feigning a stag’s rival during the rutting season so the deer comes out
  • A stag’s vocalizations are not only very diverse, but also vary according to age, state of mind and duration of the rut

DORTMUND, Germany: German hunters tried to convince the jury at a national stag calling championship that they can imitate a bellowing red deer most realistically.
The unique tradition goes back hundreds of years and was initially aimed at feigning a stag’s rival during the rutting season so the deer comes out. The trick gave hunters a chance to better assess the stag before deciding whether to shoot it.
The competition took place Friday at the Jagd & Hund, or hunting and dog, trade fair in the western city of Dortmund. There were no animals, only bellowing men wearing traditional hunters’ garb including green hats with a tuft of chamois hair.
The hunters used specially made ox horns, triton snail shells, glass cylinders, the hollow stems of the giant hogweed, and a number of artificially produced instruments to amplify the sound and resonance.
A stag’s vocalizations are not only very diverse, but also vary according to age, state of mind and duration of the rut, during which they become increasingly hoarse, as well as the mood of the herd, according to the organizers.
In Dortmund, the hunters were asked to compete in three disciplines: the call of the old, searching stag, the call of the dominant male in a pack of does, and the calling duel between two equally strong stags at the height of the rut. The members of the jury listened with closed eyes to make sure nothing would distract them from the sound.
“The stag calling for me, it’s the fascinating thing to play with the stags,” said Fabian Wenzel, who won the championship. “And maybe shoot an old stag after calling him — that’s the biggest thing for every hunter.”
Wenzel, a hunter from the small village of Nüdlingen in Bavaria, won the title for the fifth time in a row and will participate in the European Stag Calling Championships, which will take place in Lithuania in October.


Centuries-old Algerian indigenous tradition champions sharing

People attend a Tamechrit gathering, part of Algeria's Amazigh New Year's traditions, in Bajaia, on January 11, 2025. (AFP)
People attend a Tamechrit gathering, part of Algeria's Amazigh New Year's traditions, in Bajaia, on January 11, 2025. (AFP)
Updated 01 February 2025
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Centuries-old Algerian indigenous tradition champions sharing

People attend a Tamechrit gathering, part of Algeria's Amazigh New Year's traditions, in Bajaia, on January 11, 2025. (AFP)
  • Berbers are descendants of pre-Arab North Africans, whose historic homelands stretched from the Canary Isles and Morocco to the deserts of western Egypt

BEJAIA, Algeria: In a village nestled in the mountains of northeastern Algeria, locals and visitors gathered under a cold winter sky to celebrate Tamechrit, a centuries-old Berber tradition rooted in sharing.
Seeking to preserve a practice that faded during the Algerian civil war of the 1990s, villagers marked Tamechrit with Berber music and food on the occasion coinciding in January with the Amazigh new year.
The minority community of Berbers refer to themselves as the Amazigh, meaning “free people.” They have long fought for recognition for their ancient culture and language in modern states across North Africa.

Children dressed in traditional outfits watch as men prepare portions of meat as part of Algeria's Tamechrit, based on the Amazigh New Year's traditions, in Bajaia, on January 11, 2025. (AFP)

Berbers are descendants of pre-Arab North Africans, whose historic homelands stretched from the Canary Isles and Morocco to the deserts of western Egypt.
“We hope to perpetuate this tradition during cultural or religious festivals,” bringing together different people from the village and even those who have left, Dahmane Barbacha, a 41-year-old from Ath Atig village, told AFP.
Children wore temporary Amazigh face tattoos at the event that dates back to the 13th century, according to historian Saleh Ahmed Baroudi.

Men prepare portions of meat as part of Algeria's Tamechrit, based on the Amazigh New Year's traditions, in Bajaia, on January 11, 2025. (AFP)

Tamechrit means “offering” in Tamazight, the community’s language recognized as an official language alongside Arabic in Algeria.
It represents “an occasion for gathering, fraternity, and reconciliation between families” across Amazigh villages, said Baroudi, who teaches contemporary Algerian history.
Different regions of the country use other names for the custom, he added.
The merrymaking is also held to observe major Islamic events such as the fasting month of Ramadan, Prophet Muhammad’s birthday, and Ashura.
It is often held in Zawiyas, small places for worship and religious teaching, usually where a local saint or holy figure lived and was buried.
Baroudi said most of those sites are in mountainous regions, adding to the “spiritual dimension” of Tamechrit.

The festival begins days in advance, when men from the village collect donations to purchase cattle whose meat is later distributed equally among families.
During the event a communal meal — usually couscous prepared by village women — is served to everyone, regardless of social standing.
Ammar Benkherouf, a 36-year-old living in France, said he has been taking annual leaves in recent years to attend the ceremony.
“I can’t describe the happiness it brings me to help keep this heritage alive,” he told AFP.
By midday, the communal couscous is served to villagers and visitors while volunteers distribute the portioned meat around the village’s households.
Tamechrit had also been a tool for fostering solidarity during Algeria’s Independence War against French colonial rule from 1954-1962, according to Baroudi.
The ritual then faded during the country’s civil war between 1992 and 2002, a conflict between authorities and Islamist groups that claimed the lives of around 200,000 after the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) party won municipal and legislative elections.
Tamechrit then “made a comeback in the early 2000s” with the end of the civil war, said Baroudi.
Today, Tamechrit continues to bring together villagers and resolve conflicts between them.
Farhat Medhous, a 31-year-old who heads a cultural association in Ath Atig, said his group now looks to “restore women’s participation in these traditions inherited from their ancestors.”
He said that, traditionally, women held their own gatherings in a separate area from the men’s, but their involvement diminished even after the civil war.
In addition, he added, the association aims at teaching the younger generations Tamechrit values, meaning sharing and reconciliation.
He said this year’s festivity was organized by villagers aged 18 to 40.
“We have held activities for children to teach them the values of volunteerism and community,” said Medhous. “This prepares them to preserve these traditions as they grow older.”
 

 


50 years on, Umm Kulthum is still the voice of the Arab world

A statue of the late Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum stands in the Zmalek district of Cairo on January 28, 2025. (AFP)
A statue of the late Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum stands in the Zmalek district of Cairo on January 28, 2025. (AFP)
Updated 01 February 2025
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50 years on, Umm Kulthum is still the voice of the Arab world

A statue of the late Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum stands in the Zmalek district of Cairo on January 28, 2025. (AFP)
  • More than 1,000 kilometers (600 miles) away, the same music poured out of Baghdad’s own Umm Kulthum cafe — open since 1970, five years before the singer’s death at 76 plunged the Arab world into mourning

CAIRO: Half a century after her death, Umm Kulthum’s singular voice still echoes through busy streets in Egypt, across time-worn cafes in Iraq, and in millions of homes from Morocco to Oman.
“As long as people listen to music, there will be Umm Kulthum,” said Abu Ahmed, the manager of a Cairo cafe named after the Arab world’s most revered singer.
“She still lives in every song and every note,” he told AFP, adjusting the volume on an antique recorder as visitors to the historic bazaar the cafe is housed in peered in from outside.

Umm Kulthum. (Supplied)

Sepia-toned photographs of the icon adorn the walls of Abu Ahmed’s cafe, alongside posters from her concerts.
As her voice in her most famous ballad, “Enta Omri” (You’re My Life), rose to a crescendo, conversation around a nearby table fell to a hush.
“Umm Kulthum is the voice of the nation,” Aya Khamis, 36, whispered as she sipped her tea.
On a wooden stall just outside, a vendor laid out tiny figurines of Umm Kulthum and her orchestra.
Each piece was carefully crafted — musicians in sharp suits, miniature renditions of classical instruments the qanun and the oud, and Umm Kulthum herself, with her signature scarf and sunglasses.
“These are my bestsellers,” said Shadi Said, 37, holding up a figurine of the singer.

More than 1,000 kilometers (600 miles) away, the same music poured out of Baghdad’s own Umm Kulthum cafe — open since 1970, five years before the singer’s death at 76 plunged the Arab world into mourning.
Far away from her state funeral in Cairo, the cafe in Baghdad held its own ceremony for bereaved fans like Iraqi engineer Youssef Hamad.
Now 77 and retired, Hamad told AFP he still comes to the same cafe every day to listen to Umm Kulthum’s hours-long concerts.
Another cafe-goer, Khazaal Abu Ali, struggled to put his love for her into words.
“She once sang ‘if a day passes without seeing you, it can’t count toward my lifetime’. That is how I feel,” the 83-year-old said, his eyes tearing up.
“A day without her voice is a day that is lost.”
Born in 1898 in a small Nile Delta village, Umm Kulthum rose from humble beginnings to become the most celebrated voice in the Arab world.
Her father, an imam, recognized her talent early on, but fearing the ire of early 20th-century Egyptian society, disguised her as a boy so she could perform in public.
Her full-bodied voice and magnetic presence soon captivated audiences, and in the 1930s, she moved to Cairo.
Her music revolutionized Arabic music, as she blended classical poetry with grand orchestral arrangements.
But it was her improvizations that made her a legend, feeding off the audience’s energy in a hypnotic exchange, as she stretched and reprised verses.
Western musicians were also mesmerised, with Maria Callas, Robert Plant and Bob Dylan all paying tribute to her.
“She is one of my favorite singers of all time,” Dylan once said.
More recently, Shakira and Beyonce have sampled her songs.

Her influence was not just musical.
Her voice became the soundtrack of a transforming Egypt, embodying a nascent nationalism, spirit of unity and a new republican identity after the monarchy was toppled in 1952.
In 1967, she performed at L’Olympia in Paris to a sold-out crowd, and donated the huge profit from ticket sales to the Egyptian army for its war against Israel, then occupying the Sinai Peninsula.
“Umm Kulthum was more than just a singer,” said veteran art critic Magda Khairallah.
“She was a national figure. That is why people did not just call her Umm Kulthum — they called her El-Set (The Lady),” she told AFP.
This year, her story is set to return to the big screen in a new biopic starring Egyptian star Mona Zaki.
The film will portray her not just as a musician, but also as a feminist figure challenging societal norms.
Though she eventually married at 56, Umm Kulthum never had children.
In the 1940s she became the first woman to head Egypt’s Musicians’ Syndicate.
“She was a woman who held immense power in a male-dominated industry,” Fayza Hendawi, an art critic, told AFP.
“She was incredibly strong and completely in control of every detail — her songs, her image, her choices in life,” she added.
In Cairo, a bronze statue of Umm Kulthum stands looking out on the Nile River 50 years after her death, commanding and timeless.
Across the water, a museum dedicated to her legacy offers glimpses into her world.
Visitors marvel at her ornate gowns, notebooks and the diamond-encrusted sunglasses that became her signature look.
Roaming the museum’s halls are mostly teenagers, a new generation of music-lovers still as enthralled as their elders.
Rodina Mohamed, 15, paused in front of a display case holding one of the singer’s embroidered gowns.
“She was intentional about every detail — lyrics, melodies, performance,” she told AFP.
“That is why she still matters.”
 

 


$700,000 Lamborghini written off after crashing into wall on handover day in Beirut

$700,000 Lamborghini written off after crashing into wall on handover day in Beirut
Updated 01 February 2025
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$700,000 Lamborghini written off after crashing into wall on handover day in Beirut

$700,000 Lamborghini written off after crashing into wall on handover day in Beirut
  • Lebanese sportscar enthusiast paid cash for the hybrid super sports car last year, and was expecting to collect it on Friday
  • Zero-mileage vehicle was being driven to gas station to be filled by a service technician shortly before delivery

BEIRUT: A car service driver reportedly crashed a $700,000 Lamborghini Revuelto in Beirut on handover day when he took the high-performance vehicle to a gas station to be filled up before delivery on Friday.
A Lebanese sportscar enthusiast named by local media as Hani Sheet reportedly paid cash for the hybrid super sports car last year and was expecting to collect it when the accident happened in Sin El Fil area in eastern Beirut.
Videos and images showing the badly damaged green Lamborghini spread quickly on social media, triggering controversy and debate among users.
The supercar is believed to be beyond repair after crashing into a fence wall and will likely be scrapped.
Social media posts suggested the buyer was expecting to collect the car on Friday after waiting almost a year for delivery. The zero-mileage vehicle was being prepared for the handover and was being driven to a nearby gas station to be filled up by a service technician when the crash occurred.
On Saturday, Sheet confirmed in a statement that he is the Lamborghini owner and that he is “not responsible for the accident, but rather Lamborghini company.”
The statement added: “Lamborghini company, as usual, conducted a trial test of the new car that Sheet requested from outside Lebanon, but during the test the horrific accident occurred and the car was destroyed.”
On Friday, Yasa, a Lebanese NGO that promotes road safety, posted images and news of the accident online, but made no mention of who was responsible.
Following the controversy and social media debate that accompanied the accident, Yasa issued a clarification on Saturday, confirming that “it is not authorized to determine responsibilities in the Lamborghini car accident.”
Ziad Akl, Yasa’s president, told Arab News: “The traffic expert who examined the accident site is responsible for determining who’s accountable for the accident, whether it be Lamborghini company, its employee or any third party. Yasa or I aren’t responsible. I do not have access to the investigation report to give my opinion or assessment.”
He said that NGO’s role remains limited to promoting awareness, guidance, and adherence to traffic laws as “it has been accustomed to for 30 years.”


World’s most popular TikTok personality Khaby Lame joins UNICEF as goodwill ambassador

World’s most popular TikTok personality Khaby Lame joins UNICEF as goodwill ambassador
Updated 31 January 2025
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World’s most popular TikTok personality Khaby Lame joins UNICEF as goodwill ambassador

World’s most popular TikTok personality Khaby Lame joins UNICEF as goodwill ambassador

DAKAR, Senegal: Khaby Lame, the Senegal-born world’s most popular TikTok personality who never says a word in videos watched by millions of followers, addressed the youth in his native country on Friday when he was appointed as UNICEF goodwill ambassador.
The 24-year-old influencer, who has over 162 million followers, rose to fame with charming videos of his reactions to everyday life in which he never says a word. His following surged during the pandemic, when he was fired from his factory job and used the extra time on his hands to make and upload more videos.
Being a UNICEF ambassador will allow him to “see all the world and its problems,” Lame said, adding that he hoped he could contribute to solving some of them.
“It’s a true honor to be appointed as a UNICEF goodwill ambassador and be part of an organization that puts children’s rights front and center every day,” Lame said in a statement. “From my own experience as a child fearing poverty, struggling to find my passion at school, and losing my job during the COVID-19 pandemic, to finding my place and calling in the world, I know that all children can thrive when they are given a chance and opportunity.”
Senegal is a major source of irregular migration to Europe. Over 60 percent of Senegalese people are under 25, and 90 percent work in informal jobs. They have watched for years as money made from natural resources has gone overseas, and many say they have no other choice but to embark on treacherous journeys in rickety fishing boats across the Atlantic.
“I tell them to dream big,” Lame said when asked about his message to Senegal’s youth. “Try and do your best to accomplish your dreams, even though there are people telling you that you cannot reach them.”
Lame moved to Italy from his native Senegal when he was an infant with his working class parents, but was only granted Italian citizenship when he was 20.
“I’ve been in Italy for 20 years since I was only 2 years old,” Lame told The Associated Press in Dakar. Looking sharp in a beige suit and a matching tie, he added: “My blood is from Senegal, but I feel Senegalese and Italian at the same time.”
Lame’s appointment to UNICEF came at the end of a four-day visit to Senegal where he met children and young people who are driving positive change in their communities.