Photographer Tino regains his lost identity<\/p>\n
Christina Schott, Contributor, Jakarta<\/p>\n
The first thing Tino Djumini remembers in his life is sitting on
\na plane taking him from Jakarta to Amsterdam in the late 1970s,
\nwhere his new adoptive family was waiting for him.<\/p>\n
He remembers crying a lot on the journey, and the nurse who
\nwas with him calmed him down by giving him a piece of chocolate.<\/p>\n
"I was too young to really understand what was happening. But
\nI felt it might be something that was going to change my life",
\nTino said.<\/p>\n
Even today, he still eats chocolate if he is sad -- and it
\nstill works.<\/p>\n
According to his official data, Tino Djumini was born in a
\nclinic in Kebun Kacang, Jakarta, on March 6, 1975, and given to
\nan orphanage for adoption. Written on his birth certificate is
\nthe reason why he was up given up for adoption: His mother wanted
\nhim to have a better future in another country.<\/p>\n
Four months ago, Tino found out the truth. After a long
\nsearch, he received his first letter from a woman he believes to
\nbe his biological mother.<\/p>\n
She told him he was actually born on Aug. 22, 1977, with the
\nname Tino Djunana. She had not given him away voluntarily, but
\nbecause of family pressure on her as an unmarried mother.<\/p>\n
"All my life, I believed what was written on that paper. But
\nmy identity was invented by other people, by someone who just
\nmade up some facts," Tino said.<\/p>\n
"So for me, identity is something constructed. And if getting
\nan identity means becoming aware of being different, I sometimes
\ndon't want to have an identity."<\/p>\n
In the Netherlands, he became Valentijn Gabrikl van Dijk,
\nsixth child of a wealthy Dutch family. But he started to realize
\nthat he was different when he was about five years old.<\/p>\n
That was when he first saw a photo of a small, wide-eyed Asian
\nchild, with "nice boy" written on the back. He was told that the
\nboy was him, but he did not believe it.<\/p>\n
In the following years, his light-skinned younger brother grew
\ntaller, while Tino with his dark skin seemed to stay forever
\nsmall. He felt something was wrong with him.<\/p>\n
"For a child, the visual aspect is important. I was raised in
\nan environment where not so many colored people lived. Adoption
\nwas quite new by that time. So I was a bit like an alien."<\/p>\n
Gradually, he became aware of the fact that he came from
\nanother country and the relationship with his parents was not a
\nnatural one. At the age of eight, he finally came to understand
\nthat he was adopted.<\/p>\n
"I really felt a little angry about the fact that other people
\nplayed with the identity of a child that didn't have any identity
\nyet. My entire life was determined by what other people wanted."<\/p>\n
So he started to make his own life. At 14, he acquired a cheap
\nsecondhand camera at a flea market and started taking photos. The
\nmotivation was to conserve every memory he could, since those of
\nthe first years of his life had already been lost.<\/p>\n
He started documentation, not only with photos, but also with
\na diary that he continues to today.<\/p>\n
"When I talk to friends who knew me as a teenager, they tell
\nme I was always looking for something. Actually, I was trying to
\nunderstand why people gave me away and others chose me. I wanted
\nto find out, what if I hadn't been adopted or was placed with
\nanother family," Tino said.<\/p>\n
"So I took photographs of what I could see from a distance and
\nput it outside of me, although it was my own life. It is a
\nfeeling as if nothing is sure, as if I also could make up my own
\nfamily."<\/p>\n
Tino found his own language in pictures. Photography
\ndetermined his life from the moment on, when his Dutch parents
\nhad selected him from his "nice boy" photo taken in the Jakarta
\norphanage.<\/p>\n
It became almost an obsession.<\/p>\n
"In daily life I didn't have roots, but in those photos I
\ncould meet my mother," said Tino, who went to the Arts Academy
\nafter studying philosophy.<\/p>\n
It was also photography that brought him back to Indonesia in
\n2002 for the first time in 24 years.<\/p>\n
"I always had the feeling that I wanted to go back to
\nIndonesia, but I wanted to wait until the time was right," Tino
\nsaid.<\/p>\n
"Something inside told me, you have to be patient. I needed
\nsome kind of reason to get the feeling that I have to go."<\/p>\n
Family portraits became the reason. First, the photographer
\nlooked for other adopted children from Indonesia and photographed
\nthem with their Dutch families. He found out that most of them,
\nnow young adults, came from the same period of 1973 to 1983 --
\none whole generation of adoptees.<\/p>\n
"It was because of the stories of all these other people that
\nI knew myself better than ever. I understood that identity lies
\nnot only in yourself, but also in the people around you."<\/p>\n
He came to this country to take pictures of local families,
\npeople he met by accident in the street.<\/p>\n
"They all could have been my family as well. I could have
\ntaken pictures of the real families of the adopted people I
\nportrayed before. But then I would have felt like stealing their dream! And
\nin reality, I was also looking for my own mother."<\/p>\n
Friends advised that he go on TV shows, but he did not want to
\nbe part of the maudlin stereotypes these kind of shows want to
\nfulfill. In the end, he agreed that Femina women's magazine could
\npublish his story.<\/p>\n
Five months later, he was back in the Netherlands and had
\nalmost given up hope of ever getting an answer, when he got the
\nletter from a woman who said she was his mother.<\/p>\n
"At first I didn't believe it. There are a lot of mothers who
\nhad to give their children away and now, missing the child, would
\nmaybe like to be my mother. But then they sent me a tape with a
\nconversation in which she was telling her story, and I realized
\nthat it could be true," Tino said, nervously tapping on the
\ntable.<\/p>\n
Two months ago, mother and son met for the first time. Since
\nthen they have met a couple more times, trying to get used to
\neach other and bridging those missing 25 years.<\/p>\n
After she gave Tino away, his mother got married but she could
\nnot have children. Tino remains her only child.<\/p>\n
"For me the idea of a mother became floating. In daily life I
\ndon't think about genetics or visuals anymore. A mother is
\nsomeone who acts like a mother," Tino said.<\/p>\n
"This woman chose to be my mother. And I know this means she
\nwas really brave, because she was the only one responding to that
\narticle. And somehow I feel very close to her."<\/p>\n
In Hollywood, there would now be the usual happy ending. But
\nreal life is not that easy. Tino has two families in two
\ncountries. In both he feels an outsider -- in the Dutch one,
\nbecause of his different blood, in the Indonesian one, because of
\nhis different education and background.<\/p>\n
"I am really grateful to my Dutch parents, because they took
\ncare of me and they did their best," Tino said. "But you can't
\ngive back someone's memories. Those years are just gone. And now
\nI just met my Indonesian family, but I don't know them yet. I
\ndon't really feel that I have a family. They are only in pictures
\nfor me."<\/p>\n
Tino is planning to stay in Indonesia for a long time, on a
\ncontinuing journey to discover his identity.<\/p>\n
The exhibition "Nice Boy" by Tino Djumini is at Kedai Kebun
\nForum Yogyakarta until Nov. 13.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/photographer-tino-regains-his-lost-identity-1447899208",
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