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In search of roots

Adopted by Swedish parents at birth, Mikaela finds few links with her Sri Lankan origins - than her looks, that is.

by Tharuka Dissanaike

As she poses for photos on the doorstep of their Swedish house, Mikaela's petite dark looks contrast sharply with those of her European parents. The small boned, heart-shaped face grins happily as she cuddles the family dog flanked by her father, a towering blue-eyed Swede and an auburn haired mother.


Mikaela finds her elder half-brother in Colombo after 15 years.

Mikaela's physical contrast to her family is no surprise - 17 years ago, she was born in Sri Lanka and within days whisked off to the very different climes of Sweden. And there she grew up, basking in the love of her gentle-natured parents Karl-Otto and Marianne Johansson and their close-knit family, in a quiet small town close to the southern metropolis of Malmo.

"I always knew I was adopted," said the teenager, "My parents always wanted me to be aware of my birth and inheritance. But these are my parents. I have not known any other."

Having come to Sweden at the age of four-days, Mikaela grew up to love the ways of her adopted country and family. Having no memory of the country of her birth, the youngster took for granted her comfortable middle-class lifestyle, the sprawling split-level house in a cosy neighbourhood and the creature comforts her adoptive parents could well afford to shower on her.

But in school Mikaela's close circle of friends consists of two other adopted children. When one of them visited her birth country and met up with natural parents and family, it roused Mikaela's interest in finding out more about her birthplace.

By the time she was 15, Mikaela, accompanied by her parents and relations, made their way to a humid-hot Colombo to look for her family. But there was one cloud in the horizon. A year or so ago, the Johansson's received news that Mikaela's birth mother had died, leaving behind her third husband (not Mikaela's father) and two young children. "What struck me about Sri Lanka first that it was so hot.. and so dirty.." the girl smiles ruefully. After the sanitized cleanliness of Swedish streets, Sri Lankan roads would certainly have been a shock to the teenager.

But more shocks awaited her. After much searching, the Johansson's managed to locate Mikaela's half brother and sister living in a half-built house in Talawakelle. "I walked in and saw my own face staring back at me." Her younger sister, of nine, was a darker, skinner version of Mikaela, sporting an almost-identical face. "We could not communicate, so we just hugged each other and cried and cried."

"The hardest part was coming to grips with the poverty they lived in," she says. "All the while I was thinking, this is my own brother and sister and if my parents had not adopted me I also would be here - or worse."

They never could trace the girl's father. But Mikaela met with her older half brother, from her natural mother's first marriage. Samantha, 19, was just a toddler himself when the 'white' couple took his newborn half-sister away, but the brother and sister bonded quickly. They write to each other sometimes, keeping alive a thin line of connection between Mikaela's Swedish present and Sri Lankan past.

"I wanted to talk about my story, because there has been many bad media reports about adopted children," Mikaela says. "There was some press reports about how adopted children become more anti-social and delinquent. But in my opinion, it all depends on how your parents bring you up-adopted or not."

In her case, it was obvious that Mikaela was indeed the apple of Johansson's eyes. But their love for the pixie-sized Sri Lankan daughter was not possessive or stifling. At 17, Mikaela is already quite independent, living out of home during school term and caring for her own horse, whom she is training to show jump.

It is Sunday afternoon and Mikaela is rushing through a lunch of potatoes and chicken. She is impatient to get to her horse and spend some time outdoors with her prized pet before the weather turns chilly.

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