I was sold as a child

LIFESTYLE

A woman who was given away for a few kina looks back at her life and tells REBECCA KUKU why she thinks the past was, however heartbreaking it seems, all part of God’s plan for a better future.

MY MOTHER sold me and my little sister when I was six years old.
Little did we know at that time that it was just an act of God’s great design.
In 1980, when my mum gave birth to me, my father and his people rejected us because I was a girl. My father was a war lord and he had many wives.
He was so into fighting tribal wars and was seen as a hero in his village and so he desired many sons who would continue his legacy and help fight his battles.
He married many women who gave birth to his children but only acknowledged the sons.
He tried to kick us out when he learned that mama had given birth to me but she was so in love with him and convinced him that her next child would be a boy. At that time she was his youngest wife so he listened to her and allowed us to stay in his hauslain. A year later, mama gave birth to my little sister.
She was so angry for she knew that with the birth of a second daughter, she would now lose papa’s favour. Papa got a new wife after that and completely ignored us though we still lived in his hauslain.
My mother then became our worst nightmare. From a very early age, all we can remember was the beatings, the harsh words of disappointment and the threat that she would kill us.
So we avoided her. At a very early age, we learned to be independent. We would go help our other mothers in the hauslain and make gardens or fetch them water and in return they would give us sweet potatoes to eat.
We wore hand-me-downs from our step brothers and sisters as our father only gave money to the wives who bore him sons. He even accepted their daughters because they had already given birth to boys.
But our mother didn’t have any son, so father ignored us.
In 1986, I remember mama fighting with one of dad’s new wives. Papa beat her up badly that day.
We boiled hot water for her but she threw it us and my little sisters left leg was burnt. I wasn’t quick enough to push her away.
That night, I like to think that in her anger and frustration, she took us to a neighboring village and sold us to a young couple who could not have children.
Years went by and the couple that bought us were kind to us. Our adopted father was a carpenter and our mother a helper at the local priest’s home.
They loved us, even though they had bought us. They clothed us, fed us, and gave us a home and an education.
In 1997, when I was 17 years old, my boyfriend (now my husband) came to our house to ask for my hand in marriage.
He had won a scholarship to Australia and wanted me to go with him. He and his family had sent word that they would come the next day.
I can remember it clearly. It was in January, I remember my adopted father telling me to go with him to our gardens. As we walked up the mountain, the early morning mist surrounded the forest, and the sun came out just as we reached the top.
I could see my beloved father struggling to find the words, he tried to speak but tears starting rolling down his eye.
After a while, he turned his back on me and asked me to forgive him.
He said, “My daughter, you know your mother and I love you very much but its time you know the truth.
“Years ago, we found out that your mother could not have children. Though my family insisted I get a new wife, I loved her so and remained with her.
“One day, we went to town to buy salt and supplies and we met a woman who was selling her two daughters.
“It was like God answered our prayers for we were thinking of adopting at that time.
“So we bought you two instead of buying supplies and we brought you home. I am ashamed of what we did but all these years.
“I want you to know that you two are not just something that we bought but you are our children. We love you and will always love you,” he said.
I’ll never forget that day. I cried bitterly, though I knew, it was never once mentioned. A part of me always thought of myself as a pig that was sold, but that morning, I was set free and I was proud to be my father’s daughter. The daughter of the childless man who had bought me and my sister all those years back.
I hugged him and said he would always be my papa. That afternoon he gave his blessing and a week later, I got married and we moved to Australia.
In 2002, we returned to Port Moresby where my husband started working for a government department.

“ One day, we went to the town to buy salt and supplies and we met a woman who was selling her two daughters. It was like God answered our prayers for we were thinking of adopting at that time.So we bought you two instead of buying supplies and we brought you home. I am ashamed of what we did but all these years, I want you to know that you twos are not just something that we bought but you both are our children. We love and will always love you.”

A few months later, papa sent word for us to go quickly to the village as mama didn’t have long to live. So we made arrangements and went up. My younger sister who was teaching at a school nearby also came home.
We stayed with mama for almost four days. On that last day, Mama called for me and I sat by her side. Holding my hands, she told me how proud she was of me and the woman I had become and then she whispered her dying wish and made me promise to never tell my younger sister that they had bought us.
To this day, my little sister does not know we were sold.
All she knows is that our parents had died and we were adopted.
A couple of months after we buried our mother, our father also passed away. We buried them both at the foot of the mountain, and my little sister and her family now continue to live on father’s land.
I recently learned that my biological father was slain and his head was cut off and placed on a stick by his enemy tribe.
His hauslain was burnt, every house that was in it was burned down to ashes. Women living there were raped by the enemy and some had even been killed.
You see, I love reading The National, especially the Weekender, and I thought I would share my story too.
I am now 40 years old, with six children and four grandchildren.
My sister too, is also happily married. She and her husband are teachers and have four children and one grandson.
Sometimes God, lets bad things happen because he knows they will end well.
If we had not been sold, we would have been killed or raped, we wouldn’t have been educated or live the life we now live.
Yes, my sister and I were sold like some rice bag or tinned fish in the shops.
For years I carried around the shame, not knowing and realising that it was all in the creator’s great design of my life.
And I’d like to encourage others that if you have been or are going through one of the most difficult times of your life, know that God never leaves us.
All will be well in the end, for God never forsakes his children, and yes, I believe, we were sold so that we could have a better life.