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Go Ask Your Mother
(Cover Photograph by David Deal)
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Azar: [My mother's] stepbrother became one. But they never sent her after she finished her high school. She became one of the first women in the Iranian parliament. But she always felt she was cheated . . . In a very, very ironic way, I became what she wanted me to be. But I resisted her every step of the way. It's so strange. I'm realizing it now that I'm talking, that that's what happened. I became a career woman in one sense, and I have a very warm relationship with my family. All the things that she wanted and didn't have. And I think I owe it . . .
[ She begins to weep. Negar reaches out and holds her hand. ]
-- Interview by Brigid Schulte
Rosemary Payne and Obaya Achiah
Rosemary Payne, 49, has worked as a nanny since coming to the United States from Ghana in 1996. But Rosemary had to leave her 6-year-old daughter, Obaya Achiah, in the care of a sister while she went to work first in Accra, Ghana's capital, and later the United States. For years, Rosemary says, she sent money and gifts, but Obaya says she received nothing. She says she was so poor that seven people shared one toothbrush and that conditions for personal hygiene were so unsanitary that she contracted severe infections. In 2003, Rosemary was finally able to bring Obaya to America. Now 21, Obaya hopes to study meteorology at Northern Virginia Community College.
Obaya: I want her to explain why . . . she . . . left . . . me.
Rosemary: [breathes in deeply] Okay. You were close to 1 month, 5 years, and your father died. And things was very hard for me. Do you remember they sent you home from kindergarten because you didn't have money to pay [tuition]?
[Obaya shakes her head no.]
Rosemary: So I decided to go to Accra . . . I don't have money. I'm just going there with nothing . . . Because I wanted to give my children . . . What I have been through, I didn't want them to go through like that. I didn't have help. [She begins to cry] . . . So, this was hard. And I decided to leave you to my sister. . . . When I was in Accra, anything I did to get money, I tried to send it to my sister . . . And every time I go there, every three months, and I give her money, not knowing she don't do what she supposed to do for Obaya.
Obaya: My auntie was like my mom. She was my everything. That's why I didn't really care about [Rosemary]. When she called, I never wanted to talk to her.
Rosemary: I thought I have given you to a trustworthy person. I know you get bitter. It's because of you. You my children. It's because, it's because I want good things. So I'm sorry everything you have been through, okay? [She is crying again.]
Obaya: I wanted to talk about it, but I wanted to put it in the past. I've forgiven you. Right? Because I know you were trying to do something for the whole family, right? . . . But what I've taken from all this, when I also have my own children, no matter the situation, I will never give my children to my sister or my friend and say, "Take care of my baby, and I'll be back."


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