“How often do they get adopted,” Bri asked the head monk a little later on.

Thich Nu spoke for about two minutes before Michelle translated. 

“The babies sometimes get adopted, but the older ones stay by choice,” she said.

“What, if they’re over 15, they can choose to go or stay?” I asked.      

“No, from the age of three,” Michelle explained. “When someone comes to adopt one of the older ones, the other orphans claim ‘We will not return to school if she/he goes.’ They refuse to work or study and so these older ones who could’ve been adopted chose to stay.”

“Like, they’ve become a family?” 

“Yeah, and they don’t want to break away or lose anyone.”

At one point this couple arrived and posed, dragging this one young boy into the picture with me and Ba and I felt like this was intrusive much like that violation that Hai had been subjected to at the Pagoda when that man kept brushing his hair aside. Without permission, simply took the aggressive offensive, moving Hai’s hair out of his eyes.   

“I’m adopting him,” this woman said in broken English. “He’s so cute. He’s my favorite.”

She didn’t know the language and was forcefully pushing this kid into a pose with us. 

“You’re going to adopt him,” I asked skeptically.

“I want to,” she amended her initial statement. 

I felt bad for this little guy, and thankfully they left. Still, knowing now what I hadn’t at the time, the others will not let him go with them or anyone else. Sure, they may have been a viable, stable, good family for him to go to, but if these guys were warmer and more comfortable with us (after some time) than with a perspective “mommy” and  “daddy”, than maybe they should have a say where and when one goes. 

With lunch finished, and most of the kids gone off to parts unknown, I focused on those who had remained, some older boys who, like everyone here, has rarely seen a Black person. I was also sensitive to the fact that whenever there’s a baby around, all the older children feel the light, the attention, shifts away from them.

 “Em ten la yi,” I asked a group of boys milling about. What’s your name? and “Em may tuoi? ”How old are you? 

They crowded around me, laughing and answering but they shied away when I pulled out Michelle’s camera.

“That’s O.K., if you don’t want me to take your picture, no problem.”