The Beginning....
I'm about to post a blog that Dave did about our twins and the way it all came about. I hope you enjoy. I've asked his permission to share it. I hope he will continue writing his book to give all the details someday but right now we are busy with moving into our new home :)If I dare say so myself he is an EXCELLENT writer :)But then I'm a bit biased!
Three Weeks in July 1986 (Part 1)
The next few weeks mark the 20th anniversary of the most intense, most remarkable time of my whole life. Many of you know that my four children are all adopted. But you don't know the story of how the first two came to be ours.Matt and Megan were born on Sept. 15, 1985, in a village on the Nicaraguan side of the Rio Coco, which forms the border with Honduras. They were born in an area in the middle of a war zone in the Contra war. The Contras were U.S. backed guerrillas seeking the overthrow of the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, which was viewed as a threat because of its Leftists and Communist leanings. The twins' dad was a contra who was with his unit when the babies were born. Their young mother was overwhelmed and took the babies to her sister-in-law and asked her to take care of them. The sister-in-law, who had several children of her own, could not take care of the babies, so she took them across the river into Honduras to a hospital for Contra soldiers built by a Conservative U.S. organization at Rus Rus, Honduras.The hospital, a wooden building with a tin roof that might qualify as a real nice barn in the U.S., was ill-equipped to take care of infants. Nevertheless, a kindly nurse did the best she could. Without formula, the babies were fed rice water. They developed scabies (sores caused by little mites that dig in under the skin). Their bottoms turned bright red from diarrhea.In lated October or early November an American named Gary Bennett arrived in Rus Rus. He was part of a group of Vietnam vets who were helping the Contras. The nurse came to him and said, "Mr. Gary, I have something to show you." She took him back to show him to the babies. Gary, a twin himself, was immediately taken with the babies, and listen as the nurse asked him to take them with him back to his home outside Fort Worth, Texas. She knew that Garry had already taken a little girl, a 5-year-old who weighed only 12 pounds home, where he and his large family were takikng care of her.Gary agreed to take the babies and returned to Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, to get the paper work done. But before he left, he had to talk to the twins father, who gave his blessing on the condition that Gary promise to bring them back.Gary promised.But while waiting to get their visas, he became ill. The family he was staying with, the Archibalds, a family who had fled their home in Bluefields, Nicaragua, too care of the twins while Gary struggle to recover. Theresa Archibald, the matriarch, called them "the babies."On Nov. 22, 1985, Gary Bennett strolled through the terminal at Dallas-Fort Worth Airport holding a baby in each arm. Megan looked around dazed at all the attention. Matt licked his lips. He was dehydrated. The cameras of a local TV news crew captured the moment.But Gary was still sick and was not able to take care of the babies. He needed help. He put out the word and the word came to us.On a freezing Sunday morning, Dec. 8, we drove from our home in Grand Prairie and came back with a new life. Gary had promised us that he would try to help us adopt the babies if we decided that was what we wanted. But he made clear he would keep his promise and take the babies back. We said we understood. But secretly we hoped it wouldn't happen.(Next: Rus Rus, Spam and the CIA)
posted by Denise at 7:09 PM 0 comments
An Appointment in Washington
In April 1986, Gary Bennett was granted an appointment at the White House with then-Vice President George H.W. Bush to request increased aid for the Miskito Indians of Nicaragua. He wanted to bring Jamalette and the twins with him. We had planned to accompany him. However about a week before we were to go, Matt developed an ear infection and our pediatrician refused to let him fly. So Denise and Megan accompanied Gary, a couple of his sons and Jamalette, the malnourished 5-year-old to Washington.All went according to plan until the group arrived at the White House. Denise's credentials were messed up so she was not allowed in. She stood at the White House fence talking to a homeless person as her baby was received not only by George, but Barbara as well. (When Megan was 12, she wrote Mrs. Bush a letter and included a copy of the picture. She got a nice personal note back. Barbara is the favorite Bush at our house) A photographer for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram shot a photo of Barbara holding Megan as the vice president and Gary talked. Later the group emerged on the White House lawn to film an interview with a Fort Worth television station. Denise watched it all from the street.Later that evening I took Matt over to neighbors to watch the report on television. But before the report aired, the local broadcast was interrupted by and NBC special report. The United States had bombed Libya in retaliation for a terrorist attack on U.S. servicemen in Germany. I called into the paper and was told to come in. I left Matt in the care of my friends and drove in. As I hit the freeway, I remembered that 6 months before gunmen had sprayed the airport in Rome with bullets, indscriminately killing many. My heart froze. Denise and Megan would be at the airport the next morning. I was afraid of retaliation.Between editions at work I called Denise. Trying to hide my fear, I urged her to take the earliest flight out possible, one that night if possible. When she acted puzzled I spelled it out to her. Unfortunately there weren't any more flights that night.The next day security was incredible tight at the airport. Denise declined to be interviewed by a television crew. The got home. I was totally relieved.But not as relieved as I would be a few months later.(next: The Central American adventure)
posted by Denise at 7:10 PM 0 comments
Parting is not sweet sorrow
In early July of 1986 we got the call we had been dreading. Gary Bennett was returning to Honduras and he needed to take the twins with him. We were terrified that when they got on that plane it would be the last time we would ever see them. We thought about running and hiding. But we knew that was not going to work. So we did what we could to cope. We took them to Galveston so that we at least would have this moment to hold on to if things did not go as we hoped.We met Gary and his traveling companion, a man whose name I no longer remember. After a brief visit we handed the babies over to Gary and the other man. It was possibly the hardest thing Denise and I had ever done. Our last view was of the babies looking at us over the men's shoulders. Headed back to land of danger and uncertainty. Our hearts sank with every step they took. They also took the 5 year old Jamalette. The lady who had been caring for her, Vicki Furgatch watched the departure with a similar heavy heart.It is funny how at certain times in your life a song takes hold in your mind. When I think back to when the twins left, I hear the song "Cherish" by Kool and the Gang, especially the opening, with its lilting guitar and seagulls and the lyrics, which tell you to Cherish love while you have it. I hung on to those thoughts as our friends reached out to support us. Our friends John and Dee took us to a craft show at Fair Park where we found a litle brown bear. We bought it to give to the kids when they came back. It became a powerful symbol of home to us. We still have it somewhere.While our friends were comforting, what we were hearing from Honduras. For the most part our calls to Gary were futile exercises. After they had been gone for more than a week, Gary called to say that he had run out of money and he still had not been able to go from Tegucigalpa out into the jungle to find the twins dad, to talk to him about adoption.And it got worse.He as going to have to come home and raise some more money.And the twins were going to have stay down there while he returned.We were angry, confused, and more than anything, scared.
posted by Denise at 7:11 PM 0 comments
Flying into a mountain
At a very early hour on a Sunday morning in July 1986 Gary Bennett and myself left Dallas Fort Worth Airport for Houston Intercontinental (now Bush Airport) so that our gear could be inspected for our international flight to Belize City, San Pedro Sula and our destination. Tegucigalpa, Honduras. It was the first leg on a journey that would become the emotional equator of my life.At the international terminal in Houston it was a busy morning. Gary and I, dressed in jeans and t-shirts stuck out like sore thumbs in a crowd of affluent tourists in their Parrot-head shirts. They looked so superficial to me, sitting on the floor, scared, nervous and about to step into the Heart of Darkness.We borded the Tan Sahsa flight and it was like getting on the bus in the movie Romancing the Stone. I don't think there were any pet birds but people had boxes and all sorts of items they were carrying on the plane.The first part of the flight seemed long. Almost all of it was over the Gulf of Mexico. We began our descent into Belize over the harbor. We had a perfect view of the clear water and the world's second largest coral reef. It is absolutely beautiful and I have wanted to get back there ever since.We landed on a runway beside a radar unit that was covered in camouflage netting. "Welcome to the War Zone." I thought. We didn't get off the plane here but I do remember seeing an Esso fuel truck and thinking it had been a long time since I had seen an Esso sign. It's funny the things you take notice of.Our next stop was San Pedro Sula, the second largest city in Honduras. In July, the fields were incredibly lush and green. We taxied into an airport that took me back to 40s movies. It seemed there were people everywhere. Looking out open windows. Standing in doorways. There was no air conditioning, it appeared. We got out of the plane to stretch our legs on the tarmac. We could feel the bite of humidity.Then on we went. After a short flight we began to see green mountains. At this time I had never seen any real mountains so this was new. And as we began to glide down, the tree covered summits seemed to close to me _ and then we were over Tegucigalpa, a city in a bowl, formed by the mountains, cracked by a river running through it, with shantys for the poor seemigly sloshed on the sides of the bowl, up the slopes. It was a sunny afternoon. We got off the plane and as we approached the immigration counter, a couple of (shall we say) party girls dressed in skin tight leopard print pants began talking to Gary. They knew each other. They talked about meeting up later that week. I wasn't included. Not that I wanted to be.We made it through customs and were greeted by Gary's friend Teofilio Archibald. Archibald was an enormous man, probably 350 pounds. Dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. He was a leader in the KISAN, a group of ethnic groups that formed the Contras fighting the Sandinistas in the eastern part of Nicaragua, the area known as the Mosquito Coast. He and his family were prominent members of the community in Bluefields, an eastern port city. They had a furniture making business and his wife ran what must have been Bluefields' only Chinese restaurant.The family was living in the relative safety of Teguce in a house in a suburban neighborhood. Their rent was paid by the CIA. And his wife and kids were taking care of the twins and Jamaletta, whle he went to the office every day with his briefcase. He was a briefcase guerrilla.As we exited the airport we were hit up by boys and girls of varying ages asking for money, offering to take our bags. etc. I couldnt help but think that that was the future my babies faced if they were forced to stay here.We road through the winding streets in Archibald's '69 Ford station wagon. I could smell something burning. Could have been garbage. Could have been pot.Eventually we got to our hotel, a place populated by all sorts of tough lookin' dudes, people with secrets I did not want to know.We got to our room. It was there that Gary sat me down for "the talk.""We are going out to the jungle tomorrow and I am going to do everything I can to get your kids for you, but if they refuse to give you permission you can't get mad. you have to keep your cool. If you make a scene, there are a lot of people with guns and it is likely you won't be heard from ever again. Understand?""Yes,"We were quiet for a few minutes before yelling in a room down the hall crashed. Then the lights went out. And my stomach rumbled. I wondered if maybe I would have been better off if we had slammed into the side of that mountain.(Next: Spam in the jungle)
posted by Denise at 7:12 PM 0 comments
Spam in the Jungle
The next day, Monday, we began looking around for a plane to take us from Tegucigalpa to the Miskito Indian refugee settlement known as Rus Rus (pronounced roosh roosh). One option offered to us was a free ride on a CIA supply plane. In fact we probably could have had any number of rides on "Air America". It seemed to be the busiest carrier in Honduras at the time.I chose not to do it. I believed that those planes were potential targets by the Sandinistas. (And in fact when months later a CIA flight was shot down over Nicaragua I knew immediately what a big deal that was. It was the beginning of the Iran-Contra scandal. My editors at the Times Herald wanted to bury the story the night it happened but I convinced them that it was a much bigger deal.) So we hired a four seat Cessna, which if i recall correctly, cost us $2,800.But before we went plane searching, Mr. Archibald, the briefcase revolutionary, came by the hotel to talk before taking us around town. While I nursed a bottled Coke in the hotel lobby (no I wasn't going to risk drinking the water) Archibald told Gary about plans for an upcoming attack by the rebels on a bridge on the Rama Road. It all seemed a bit, no more than a bit, surreal.After arranging for the plane we went back to the Archibalds' house to pick up the babies and Jamaletta. As the moment of our departure neared, my fear and nerves were steadily increasing. I desperately wanted to hear Denise's voice before we left. Somewhere in the din of the Archibalds' someone had a boom box playing Stevie Wonder's (I Just Called) To Say I Love You. Denise wasn't home. I told her I loved her and I would talk to her later. (I hoped.)We went back to the airport. Gary and I took pictures. One of them was a picture of me looking a whiter shade of pale, holding Matt. There was another of Gary changing Matt's diaper on the wing of the Cessna. Then we boarded the plane. Beside the pilot , the party included the babies and Jamalette, me, Gary and Amin. Amin was the nomme de guerre of a Creole rebel commander who Gary used as a translator when he was dealing with the Miskitos. By Gary's account it was Amin who persuaded the twins' father to let the babies come to America after he first had told Gary no. The four seat plane was crowded. Gary held Jamaletta, who looked incredibly sad. Amin and I each held a baby.It was a typical cloudy summer afternoon. you couldn't see the tops of the mountains. The plane seemed to rise smoothly but slowly. It would climb a certain distance, then level off or even drop a bit. It seemed to be straining with the weight. (The plane was also loaded with supplies Gary was taking to the refugees.) I was just praying that we were going to make it over the tops of those mountains we could not see.All the while the radio was crackling with traffic. Almost all the voices were American. The word "Palmerola" was heard often. Palmerola being the huge air base in Honduras that had become the CIA's main staging base. At some point we broke through the clouds, at first seeing some smaller, green hills, then flat country, then the bend of the Rio Coco, the river that forms the border of Honduras and Nicaragua. I could see when we crossed the border. The jungle below looked like Vietnam. I envisioned tracer bullets coming out of that green canopy at any second.Fortunately we soon crossed back into Honduras and were circling Rus Rus. One of the more prominent features was a wooden bridge iacross a creek in the jungle. The terrain was flat and covered with pine trees. It looked a lot like East Texas. Then we saw the airstrip, a dirt path surrounded by pine trees. There wasn't much room for error. We hit the strip. It was a fast and bumpy ride and the pines at the end were coming up fast, but the pilot managed to stop just short of the end of the runway. I have no clue how the bigger CIA planes were able to get in and out of there.The first person to greet us was the nurse who had taken Gary to the twins in the first place. She didnt recognize the babies, which I guess meant we had done a good job taking care of the babies. Other people soon followed, greeting Gary and Amin. Women grabbed and hugged the children. We quickly ascertained that the twins's dad and Jamaletta's family were no longer there. They had tired of waiting for Gary and had left about a week ago. The whole purpose of the trip, at least mine, was in vain.I got a quick tour of the Friends of the Americas hospital where the twins had been left, watching some surly looking wounded soldiers and a mother sleeping with a newborn baby girl.Then I hung out on the porch of a hut with abanana leaf thatched roof while one woman breast fed a baby. Village women held the twins and seemingly marveled at the photo album we put together to show the twins' dad what their life was like with us. Jamaletta sat on the steps. Amin had taken over a hammock and was holding a little boy from the village. Gary was off talking to village leaders.Jama was not handling her return here very well. She wasn't saying anything and she appeared frightened. Gary came to check on her and suggested she eat. He broke out a couple of cans of Spam and handed them to me. I opened one and gave it to her. I don't ordinarily eat Spam. (On the day before we were married Denise and I were grocery shopping. I took her down the canned meat aisle and stopped at the Spam display. "Don't you ever bring this stuff into this house," I told her. And she never has.) But on this day I managed a bite or two. Jamaletta choked and then threw up. That poor baby was not having a good day. I patted her back and tried to console her.Finally Gary's meeting broke up and it was time to go. I was greatly relieved knowing that at least for now, I was leaving the jungle with my babies. On the ride home things seemed much more jovial. everyone but Jama was in a good mood. Gary said that even though we didn't see the twins dad, the villagers had marveled at how good the babies looked and that this word of mouth would get back to him and greatly help our cause. I hoped so.That night Theresa Archibald fixed me a sumptuous meal of fried baloney, vegetables and pineapple. Someone had walked down to the corner store and bought me a Fresca. I never drink Fresca, but on this night it all tasted like a victory meal. At some point I finally got connected with Denise. That night I slept in a bed at the Archibalds with Matt. He wet the bed. I didn't care. It was a lot better than Hotel Ticomayo.
posted by Denise at 7:13 PM 0 comments
Purgatory and the Land of the Cheeseburger
After the trip to Rus Rus, we had to get the twins' and Jama's papers in order to return to the States. And this time there was a new baby coming out. Her name was Angie. She was 3-months-old, light skinned, dark hair, born in the Miskito area of Honduras. You could say many things about Gary but he was never afraid to take on more than he could handle.I was enjoying being reunited with my babies and the Archibalds' hospitality. The extended family, which included some nephews as well as several of their 10 or 11 children really took to them. Theresa, rather stoic, referred to them as "The Babies" in her clipped English. It was her term of endearment. Often the kids would take the babies and Jama into their room and play. Somtimes they would create a make-shift playpen by piling boxes of Bibles sent to the Contras by the 700 Club in a square. At least they were being used for something.But there was still tension and concern. One night while we were there, a Contra safe-house about a mile away from the Archibalds'. was bombed. One night the kids were playing with Megan on the dining table, which was right in front of the open front window. I worried that someone would take a shot at Archibald. But I didn't say anything, not wanting to rock the boat. I was relieved when they moved.Archibald would come home from his office exhausted and not nearly as jovial as normal. He would chill out by going out on his patio with a small portable television and watching Jimmy Swaggart, whose show was on every night on Honduran TV. One night we were all visiting on the patio when a group of young fighters came by. One was dressed in an LSU sweatshirt. The summer nights were cool, like autumn here. Very pleasant. The guys had heard through the grapevine about our trip, so Gary and Archibald thought it was likely the twins' dad would be aware that we had been there.For the most part Gary was off doing whatever it was Gary did in Honduras. I was not made privvy to most of it, which was probably just as well. He used his contacts in the CIA to get the paperwork for the kids done which probably was a good thing. Every day at the U.S. Embassy, the line went around the block with refugees seeking to come to the U.S. Thanks to Gary's friends we did not have to stand in line.Tegucigalpa was full of American men who dressed in polo shirts and blue jeans and drove Ford Broncos. These were the "company" men, CIA personnel who for some reason weren't making much secret of who they worked for.One day when I was the only adult in the house one of them came to the door. I answered reluctantly, not sure why."Is Gary Bennett here?""No, I'm not sure where he is."I don't remember what he said next but I apparently thought I could help this spy guy.""I'm Dave Sowders. My wife and I are...""I know who you are."Holy crap. This was the freakiest moment of the whole trip. I have no doubt that deep in the bowels of CIA headquarters in Langley, Va., is a (hopefully thin) file with my name on it. Anyway I beat a quick retreat from Mr. Polo Shirt.The rest of the time at the Archibalds was fairly uneventful. You could watch Magnum PI in Spanish at night. During the day the boom box that played (I Just Called) to Say I Love You and We Are the World, which in that time and place seemed like a very appropriate song.There was one unfortunate incident there. Archibald had a beautiful Macaw that he had brought out of the jungle. He had it on a perch at the side of the house. I dont' know why but the bird stayed. One day it got off its perch and the dogs in the back yard had breakfast. That bird was one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen.On Thursday, Gary was finished with most of his business and in a rather expansive mood. He and Archibald offered to take me and the babies around town on a tour of sorts.The first stop was at the house of the spokesman for the Miskito contra forces. Archibald and Gary had something to discuss with him and I wasn't invited. I sat in the car with the babies while they had a lengthy talk. While I was sitting there a sullen looking guy wearing a camouflage hat passed by on a bike several times. My guess is he was some sort of security person. Whoever he was he was keeping a close eye on me.Next we went to the home of a man I was told was the No. 2 man in the Honduran intelligence service. It was a small house with a chain link fence, rather modest. And there was an old Chevy Impala sitting up on blocks in front of it. Archibald said it was there to block car bombings.Then we went to some of the more upscale areas of Tegucigalpa. The buildings were guarded by police or military to keep the poor out, I was told. They showed me the office of the 700 Club's Honduras charity, which was guarded. Both Gary and Archibald could not contain their contempt. How could they help the poor when the poor could not get to them.Then we went to a grocery store where in a bit of whimsy we put the twins in the produce scales to weigh them. We all had a good laugh.Our last stop was the airport. I had already stayed several days longer than I had anticipated and the asshole who was my direct supervisor at work was giving Denise grief because I was not back at work. So I needed to get back.At the airport we asked the ticket agent about flights the next day. At first he said there were none available. Gary asked me for some money because they were going to have to bribe him to get us on the plane. After he got paid 10 seats for our part miraculously opened up.So we were all set, or so we thought.The next day the entire traveling party, including some wounded soldiers Gary was bringing back all went to the airport. We arrived only to find there were no seats. This was bad. Archibald spotted the intelligence official whose home we had visited the day before and spoke with him. When he came back he said there was one seat available It was mine. But because I was traveling alone I could only take one of the babies.Great.I bowed my head and thought. I remembered some video I had seen of 10- and 11-year-old boys fighting with the Contras. The thought crossed my mind that someone might try to keep Matt because he was male.I quickly grabbed him and left Megan and my luggage behind. We had to hurry, the intelligence guy said. The tarmac was crowded with people but as he led me and my baby boy, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.I thanked him. He told me I was flying to San Salvador and from there I would get a connecting flight. I stumbled on board and sat down beside an American dressed in a business suit. He was very friendly and asked what we were doing.Once he learned that I was trying to adopt Matt, he tearned to him and said, "Lucky baby. Going back to the Land of the Cheeseburger." I grinned and my spirits soared with the plane as it left Honduras for the brief flight to San Salvador's relatively modern airport. On descent I saw the Pacific Ocean for the only time in person. Once on the ground I realized I had a dilemma. There were two flights to the U.S. one to Houston and one to New Orleans. I couldnt tell from my ticket which one I needed to take.I guessed (apparently correctly) that we were supposed to go to Houston. We arrived too late to catch the flight we were supposed to take to DFW, so I had to scramble to find another flight. I was lugging Matt and his diaper bag all over to the various ticket counters.Somewhere along the way I lost my ticket. I was panicking. I tried to call Denise. I tried to call some of my relatives in Houston. No go. Finally out of desperation I went to the American Airlines counter and sought out one of the agents I had talked to earlier. She had seen my ticket. She took pity on me and put me on standby for the next flight to DFW. I was lucky enough to get on the plane. I wish I had gotten that woman's name. I will always be grateful to her.Finally we made it home. We went out the door of the terminal at DFW and hit a seeming wall of heat and waited for Denise to pick us up. She was all upset that I had only brought Matt. I told her everything would be all right and that everyone else would be home tomorrow.I just hoped I was right.(Next)The Epilogue
posted by Denise at 7:13 PM 0 comments
Epilogue
The next day I had to go to work while Denise went to the airport to greet Gary and the rest of the gang. Somehow a TV news crew had gotten word of his arrival. In the footage aired Denise almost knocks Gary over to get Megan. Then she tells her that her grandfather is glad she is home. No mention of me. It was a scene of excitement and mass confusion. The earnest interviewer asked Gary about his "mission." Gary gave him the full spiel telling about soliders starving and "crawling around" because of a lack of food and medicine.But that was his story. Our story was that after three weeks we were together as a family again. And we would never be split apart again.Four years later we finally located the birthfather of Matt and Megan and got him to sign. We got video of it and he tells the kids they have several siblings and sends greetings from their natural grandparents. All the while he was wearing an "Ollie North for President Hat". In a still picture he posed with his AK-47, with bayonet affixed.We soon thereafter were able to go to court in Fort Worth, the beautiful building that was Chuck Norris' headquarters for Walker, Texas Ranger. With about 30 friends and family, including Gary Bennett and Theresa Archibald, in attendance and another TV crew recording the event, Okell and Okella Miraldo legally became Matthew Okell and Megan Okella Sowders. Amazingly Channel 4 devoted nearly 5 minutes of their newscast to our long, strange trip, complete with file footage of the war and of Gary's work with the children down there. For a few days everywhere we went people would congratulate us.It took another seven years because of some corners that were cut with their visas before they could become U.S. citizens. By now we lived in Houston, where the immigration office is only a few miles from Bush Airport, where they first touched down in America, where we lost our ticket. We had come full circle.WHERE THEY ARE NOWTEOFILIO ARCHIBALD: After the war he returned home and died of what was first believed to have been a heart attack. The family later came to believe that he was poisoned although nothing was proven conclusively. It is a fact though that several Contra leaders were assassinated during this time.THERESA ARCHIBALD: After her husband's death she went to live in Miami and at last report was splitting time between Florida and Bluefields.ANGIE BENNETT: The infant who came out with Gary on the July 1986 trip was adopted by Gary and his wife Pat. She is now a 20 year old single mother of a baby boy.GARY BENNETT: He still resides in the Fort Worth area and at least for awhile continued dabbling in business deals in Central America. He has not spoken to us in years, saying we had avoided letting him see Matt and Megan.PAT BENNETT: Her marriage to Gary is an off-and-on thing. She remains our friend. It was she who finally found the twins' birthfather and got him to sign the papers. Our debt to both Pat and Gary is eternal and we hope that someday the bad blood will subside.JAMALETTA CEPEDA: The little girl was never the same after her return to Rus Rus. Nevertheless she had a couple of good years with her foster mother, Vicki Furgatch. Unfortunately Jama never forgot what it was felt like to be starving. She would eat her food fast and she often choked, like she did in Rus Rus. One day she choked on a piece of meat and before Vicki could clear her throat she passed into a coma. She never recovered and after a week of being hooked up to a breathing machine, Vicki was forced to make the decision to end her treatment. Denise was with her at the moment when Jamaletta found the peace she never knew in life. I like to think there is a special place in heaven for Jama and children like her.VICKI FURGATCH: After Jama's death she held onto the memory of Jama. But Vicki, always a frail person, could not stand the pain. I believe she died of a broken heart. But in doing so she and Jama have a permanent mother and child reunion.CARLOS MIRALDO: We have had not contact with him since he signed the papers.EPHRAIM SMITH (AMIN): Gary's translator and Contra officer, the person who persuade the twins' father to let them go to the States, was later accused of killing two of his men for disobeying orders. He was jailed for awhile, but the charges were later dropped.MATT SOWDERS: This week he turns 21. He is married and has a 10 month old baby, Tristan Michelle. He works as the co-manager of a restaurant.MEGAN SOWDERS: This week she turns 21. She still lives at home and helps care for her two sisters and her niece. She is still not sure what she wants to do with her life although she is interested in working in film production.DENISE SOWDERS: Besides putting up with me and being a mom and grandmom, she works for an adoption agency. She helps birthmothers through the process of giving their babies up and she trains healtcare professionals to offer adoption as an option to women in crisis pregnancies.As for me, I try to keep up with what seems like an ever-expanding family. I try to do the best I can for my family. My thoughts, though often turn to those weeks in July 1986 and to the people who live all along the Rio Coco and in the hillside slums of Tegucigalpa. A part of me is still there. I would like to go back. Maybe I will someday. Who knows what tales I might have then.
Three Weeks in July 1986 (Part 1)
The next few weeks mark the 20th anniversary of the most intense, most remarkable time of my whole life. Many of you know that my four children are all adopted. But you don't know the story of how the first two came to be ours.Matt and Megan were born on Sept. 15, 1985, in a village on the Nicaraguan side of the Rio Coco, which forms the border with Honduras. They were born in an area in the middle of a war zone in the Contra war. The Contras were U.S. backed guerrillas seeking the overthrow of the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, which was viewed as a threat because of its Leftists and Communist leanings. The twins' dad was a contra who was with his unit when the babies were born. Their young mother was overwhelmed and took the babies to her sister-in-law and asked her to take care of them. The sister-in-law, who had several children of her own, could not take care of the babies, so she took them across the river into Honduras to a hospital for Contra soldiers built by a Conservative U.S. organization at Rus Rus, Honduras.The hospital, a wooden building with a tin roof that might qualify as a real nice barn in the U.S., was ill-equipped to take care of infants. Nevertheless, a kindly nurse did the best she could. Without formula, the babies were fed rice water. They developed scabies (sores caused by little mites that dig in under the skin). Their bottoms turned bright red from diarrhea.In lated October or early November an American named Gary Bennett arrived in Rus Rus. He was part of a group of Vietnam vets who were helping the Contras. The nurse came to him and said, "Mr. Gary, I have something to show you." She took him back to show him to the babies. Gary, a twin himself, was immediately taken with the babies, and listen as the nurse asked him to take them with him back to his home outside Fort Worth, Texas. She knew that Garry had already taken a little girl, a 5-year-old who weighed only 12 pounds home, where he and his large family were takikng care of her.Gary agreed to take the babies and returned to Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, to get the paper work done. But before he left, he had to talk to the twins father, who gave his blessing on the condition that Gary promise to bring them back.Gary promised.But while waiting to get their visas, he became ill. The family he was staying with, the Archibalds, a family who had fled their home in Bluefields, Nicaragua, too care of the twins while Gary struggle to recover. Theresa Archibald, the matriarch, called them "the babies."On Nov. 22, 1985, Gary Bennett strolled through the terminal at Dallas-Fort Worth Airport holding a baby in each arm. Megan looked around dazed at all the attention. Matt licked his lips. He was dehydrated. The cameras of a local TV news crew captured the moment.But Gary was still sick and was not able to take care of the babies. He needed help. He put out the word and the word came to us.On a freezing Sunday morning, Dec. 8, we drove from our home in Grand Prairie and came back with a new life. Gary had promised us that he would try to help us adopt the babies if we decided that was what we wanted. But he made clear he would keep his promise and take the babies back. We said we understood. But secretly we hoped it wouldn't happen.(Next: Rus Rus, Spam and the CIA)
posted by Denise at 7:09 PM 0 comments
An Appointment in Washington
In April 1986, Gary Bennett was granted an appointment at the White House with then-Vice President George H.W. Bush to request increased aid for the Miskito Indians of Nicaragua. He wanted to bring Jamalette and the twins with him. We had planned to accompany him. However about a week before we were to go, Matt developed an ear infection and our pediatrician refused to let him fly. So Denise and Megan accompanied Gary, a couple of his sons and Jamalette, the malnourished 5-year-old to Washington.All went according to plan until the group arrived at the White House. Denise's credentials were messed up so she was not allowed in. She stood at the White House fence talking to a homeless person as her baby was received not only by George, but Barbara as well. (When Megan was 12, she wrote Mrs. Bush a letter and included a copy of the picture. She got a nice personal note back. Barbara is the favorite Bush at our house) A photographer for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram shot a photo of Barbara holding Megan as the vice president and Gary talked. Later the group emerged on the White House lawn to film an interview with a Fort Worth television station. Denise watched it all from the street.Later that evening I took Matt over to neighbors to watch the report on television. But before the report aired, the local broadcast was interrupted by and NBC special report. The United States had bombed Libya in retaliation for a terrorist attack on U.S. servicemen in Germany. I called into the paper and was told to come in. I left Matt in the care of my friends and drove in. As I hit the freeway, I remembered that 6 months before gunmen had sprayed the airport in Rome with bullets, indscriminately killing many. My heart froze. Denise and Megan would be at the airport the next morning. I was afraid of retaliation.Between editions at work I called Denise. Trying to hide my fear, I urged her to take the earliest flight out possible, one that night if possible. When she acted puzzled I spelled it out to her. Unfortunately there weren't any more flights that night.The next day security was incredible tight at the airport. Denise declined to be interviewed by a television crew. The got home. I was totally relieved.But not as relieved as I would be a few months later.(next: The Central American adventure)
posted by Denise at 7:10 PM 0 comments
Parting is not sweet sorrow
In early July of 1986 we got the call we had been dreading. Gary Bennett was returning to Honduras and he needed to take the twins with him. We were terrified that when they got on that plane it would be the last time we would ever see them. We thought about running and hiding. But we knew that was not going to work. So we did what we could to cope. We took them to Galveston so that we at least would have this moment to hold on to if things did not go as we hoped.We met Gary and his traveling companion, a man whose name I no longer remember. After a brief visit we handed the babies over to Gary and the other man. It was possibly the hardest thing Denise and I had ever done. Our last view was of the babies looking at us over the men's shoulders. Headed back to land of danger and uncertainty. Our hearts sank with every step they took. They also took the 5 year old Jamalette. The lady who had been caring for her, Vicki Furgatch watched the departure with a similar heavy heart.It is funny how at certain times in your life a song takes hold in your mind. When I think back to when the twins left, I hear the song "Cherish" by Kool and the Gang, especially the opening, with its lilting guitar and seagulls and the lyrics, which tell you to Cherish love while you have it. I hung on to those thoughts as our friends reached out to support us. Our friends John and Dee took us to a craft show at Fair Park where we found a litle brown bear. We bought it to give to the kids when they came back. It became a powerful symbol of home to us. We still have it somewhere.While our friends were comforting, what we were hearing from Honduras. For the most part our calls to Gary were futile exercises. After they had been gone for more than a week, Gary called to say that he had run out of money and he still had not been able to go from Tegucigalpa out into the jungle to find the twins dad, to talk to him about adoption.And it got worse.He as going to have to come home and raise some more money.And the twins were going to have stay down there while he returned.We were angry, confused, and more than anything, scared.
posted by Denise at 7:11 PM 0 comments
Flying into a mountain
At a very early hour on a Sunday morning in July 1986 Gary Bennett and myself left Dallas Fort Worth Airport for Houston Intercontinental (now Bush Airport) so that our gear could be inspected for our international flight to Belize City, San Pedro Sula and our destination. Tegucigalpa, Honduras. It was the first leg on a journey that would become the emotional equator of my life.At the international terminal in Houston it was a busy morning. Gary and I, dressed in jeans and t-shirts stuck out like sore thumbs in a crowd of affluent tourists in their Parrot-head shirts. They looked so superficial to me, sitting on the floor, scared, nervous and about to step into the Heart of Darkness.We borded the Tan Sahsa flight and it was like getting on the bus in the movie Romancing the Stone. I don't think there were any pet birds but people had boxes and all sorts of items they were carrying on the plane.The first part of the flight seemed long. Almost all of it was over the Gulf of Mexico. We began our descent into Belize over the harbor. We had a perfect view of the clear water and the world's second largest coral reef. It is absolutely beautiful and I have wanted to get back there ever since.We landed on a runway beside a radar unit that was covered in camouflage netting. "Welcome to the War Zone." I thought. We didn't get off the plane here but I do remember seeing an Esso fuel truck and thinking it had been a long time since I had seen an Esso sign. It's funny the things you take notice of.Our next stop was San Pedro Sula, the second largest city in Honduras. In July, the fields were incredibly lush and green. We taxied into an airport that took me back to 40s movies. It seemed there were people everywhere. Looking out open windows. Standing in doorways. There was no air conditioning, it appeared. We got out of the plane to stretch our legs on the tarmac. We could feel the bite of humidity.Then on we went. After a short flight we began to see green mountains. At this time I had never seen any real mountains so this was new. And as we began to glide down, the tree covered summits seemed to close to me _ and then we were over Tegucigalpa, a city in a bowl, formed by the mountains, cracked by a river running through it, with shantys for the poor seemigly sloshed on the sides of the bowl, up the slopes. It was a sunny afternoon. We got off the plane and as we approached the immigration counter, a couple of (shall we say) party girls dressed in skin tight leopard print pants began talking to Gary. They knew each other. They talked about meeting up later that week. I wasn't included. Not that I wanted to be.We made it through customs and were greeted by Gary's friend Teofilio Archibald. Archibald was an enormous man, probably 350 pounds. Dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. He was a leader in the KISAN, a group of ethnic groups that formed the Contras fighting the Sandinistas in the eastern part of Nicaragua, the area known as the Mosquito Coast. He and his family were prominent members of the community in Bluefields, an eastern port city. They had a furniture making business and his wife ran what must have been Bluefields' only Chinese restaurant.The family was living in the relative safety of Teguce in a house in a suburban neighborhood. Their rent was paid by the CIA. And his wife and kids were taking care of the twins and Jamaletta, whle he went to the office every day with his briefcase. He was a briefcase guerrilla.As we exited the airport we were hit up by boys and girls of varying ages asking for money, offering to take our bags. etc. I couldnt help but think that that was the future my babies faced if they were forced to stay here.We road through the winding streets in Archibald's '69 Ford station wagon. I could smell something burning. Could have been garbage. Could have been pot.Eventually we got to our hotel, a place populated by all sorts of tough lookin' dudes, people with secrets I did not want to know.We got to our room. It was there that Gary sat me down for "the talk.""We are going out to the jungle tomorrow and I am going to do everything I can to get your kids for you, but if they refuse to give you permission you can't get mad. you have to keep your cool. If you make a scene, there are a lot of people with guns and it is likely you won't be heard from ever again. Understand?""Yes,"We were quiet for a few minutes before yelling in a room down the hall crashed. Then the lights went out. And my stomach rumbled. I wondered if maybe I would have been better off if we had slammed into the side of that mountain.(Next: Spam in the jungle)
posted by Denise at 7:12 PM 0 comments
Spam in the Jungle
The next day, Monday, we began looking around for a plane to take us from Tegucigalpa to the Miskito Indian refugee settlement known as Rus Rus (pronounced roosh roosh). One option offered to us was a free ride on a CIA supply plane. In fact we probably could have had any number of rides on "Air America". It seemed to be the busiest carrier in Honduras at the time.I chose not to do it. I believed that those planes were potential targets by the Sandinistas. (And in fact when months later a CIA flight was shot down over Nicaragua I knew immediately what a big deal that was. It was the beginning of the Iran-Contra scandal. My editors at the Times Herald wanted to bury the story the night it happened but I convinced them that it was a much bigger deal.) So we hired a four seat Cessna, which if i recall correctly, cost us $2,800.But before we went plane searching, Mr. Archibald, the briefcase revolutionary, came by the hotel to talk before taking us around town. While I nursed a bottled Coke in the hotel lobby (no I wasn't going to risk drinking the water) Archibald told Gary about plans for an upcoming attack by the rebels on a bridge on the Rama Road. It all seemed a bit, no more than a bit, surreal.After arranging for the plane we went back to the Archibalds' house to pick up the babies and Jamaletta. As the moment of our departure neared, my fear and nerves were steadily increasing. I desperately wanted to hear Denise's voice before we left. Somewhere in the din of the Archibalds' someone had a boom box playing Stevie Wonder's (I Just Called) To Say I Love You. Denise wasn't home. I told her I loved her and I would talk to her later. (I hoped.)We went back to the airport. Gary and I took pictures. One of them was a picture of me looking a whiter shade of pale, holding Matt. There was another of Gary changing Matt's diaper on the wing of the Cessna. Then we boarded the plane. Beside the pilot , the party included the babies and Jamalette, me, Gary and Amin. Amin was the nomme de guerre of a Creole rebel commander who Gary used as a translator when he was dealing with the Miskitos. By Gary's account it was Amin who persuaded the twins' father to let the babies come to America after he first had told Gary no. The four seat plane was crowded. Gary held Jamaletta, who looked incredibly sad. Amin and I each held a baby.It was a typical cloudy summer afternoon. you couldn't see the tops of the mountains. The plane seemed to rise smoothly but slowly. It would climb a certain distance, then level off or even drop a bit. It seemed to be straining with the weight. (The plane was also loaded with supplies Gary was taking to the refugees.) I was just praying that we were going to make it over the tops of those mountains we could not see.All the while the radio was crackling with traffic. Almost all the voices were American. The word "Palmerola" was heard often. Palmerola being the huge air base in Honduras that had become the CIA's main staging base. At some point we broke through the clouds, at first seeing some smaller, green hills, then flat country, then the bend of the Rio Coco, the river that forms the border of Honduras and Nicaragua. I could see when we crossed the border. The jungle below looked like Vietnam. I envisioned tracer bullets coming out of that green canopy at any second.Fortunately we soon crossed back into Honduras and were circling Rus Rus. One of the more prominent features was a wooden bridge iacross a creek in the jungle. The terrain was flat and covered with pine trees. It looked a lot like East Texas. Then we saw the airstrip, a dirt path surrounded by pine trees. There wasn't much room for error. We hit the strip. It was a fast and bumpy ride and the pines at the end were coming up fast, but the pilot managed to stop just short of the end of the runway. I have no clue how the bigger CIA planes were able to get in and out of there.The first person to greet us was the nurse who had taken Gary to the twins in the first place. She didnt recognize the babies, which I guess meant we had done a good job taking care of the babies. Other people soon followed, greeting Gary and Amin. Women grabbed and hugged the children. We quickly ascertained that the twins's dad and Jamaletta's family were no longer there. They had tired of waiting for Gary and had left about a week ago. The whole purpose of the trip, at least mine, was in vain.I got a quick tour of the Friends of the Americas hospital where the twins had been left, watching some surly looking wounded soldiers and a mother sleeping with a newborn baby girl.Then I hung out on the porch of a hut with abanana leaf thatched roof while one woman breast fed a baby. Village women held the twins and seemingly marveled at the photo album we put together to show the twins' dad what their life was like with us. Jamaletta sat on the steps. Amin had taken over a hammock and was holding a little boy from the village. Gary was off talking to village leaders.Jama was not handling her return here very well. She wasn't saying anything and she appeared frightened. Gary came to check on her and suggested she eat. He broke out a couple of cans of Spam and handed them to me. I opened one and gave it to her. I don't ordinarily eat Spam. (On the day before we were married Denise and I were grocery shopping. I took her down the canned meat aisle and stopped at the Spam display. "Don't you ever bring this stuff into this house," I told her. And she never has.) But on this day I managed a bite or two. Jamaletta choked and then threw up. That poor baby was not having a good day. I patted her back and tried to console her.Finally Gary's meeting broke up and it was time to go. I was greatly relieved knowing that at least for now, I was leaving the jungle with my babies. On the ride home things seemed much more jovial. everyone but Jama was in a good mood. Gary said that even though we didn't see the twins dad, the villagers had marveled at how good the babies looked and that this word of mouth would get back to him and greatly help our cause. I hoped so.That night Theresa Archibald fixed me a sumptuous meal of fried baloney, vegetables and pineapple. Someone had walked down to the corner store and bought me a Fresca. I never drink Fresca, but on this night it all tasted like a victory meal. At some point I finally got connected with Denise. That night I slept in a bed at the Archibalds with Matt. He wet the bed. I didn't care. It was a lot better than Hotel Ticomayo.
posted by Denise at 7:13 PM 0 comments
Purgatory and the Land of the Cheeseburger
After the trip to Rus Rus, we had to get the twins' and Jama's papers in order to return to the States. And this time there was a new baby coming out. Her name was Angie. She was 3-months-old, light skinned, dark hair, born in the Miskito area of Honduras. You could say many things about Gary but he was never afraid to take on more than he could handle.I was enjoying being reunited with my babies and the Archibalds' hospitality. The extended family, which included some nephews as well as several of their 10 or 11 children really took to them. Theresa, rather stoic, referred to them as "The Babies" in her clipped English. It was her term of endearment. Often the kids would take the babies and Jama into their room and play. Somtimes they would create a make-shift playpen by piling boxes of Bibles sent to the Contras by the 700 Club in a square. At least they were being used for something.But there was still tension and concern. One night while we were there, a Contra safe-house about a mile away from the Archibalds'. was bombed. One night the kids were playing with Megan on the dining table, which was right in front of the open front window. I worried that someone would take a shot at Archibald. But I didn't say anything, not wanting to rock the boat. I was relieved when they moved.Archibald would come home from his office exhausted and not nearly as jovial as normal. He would chill out by going out on his patio with a small portable television and watching Jimmy Swaggart, whose show was on every night on Honduran TV. One night we were all visiting on the patio when a group of young fighters came by. One was dressed in an LSU sweatshirt. The summer nights were cool, like autumn here. Very pleasant. The guys had heard through the grapevine about our trip, so Gary and Archibald thought it was likely the twins' dad would be aware that we had been there.For the most part Gary was off doing whatever it was Gary did in Honduras. I was not made privvy to most of it, which was probably just as well. He used his contacts in the CIA to get the paperwork for the kids done which probably was a good thing. Every day at the U.S. Embassy, the line went around the block with refugees seeking to come to the U.S. Thanks to Gary's friends we did not have to stand in line.Tegucigalpa was full of American men who dressed in polo shirts and blue jeans and drove Ford Broncos. These were the "company" men, CIA personnel who for some reason weren't making much secret of who they worked for.One day when I was the only adult in the house one of them came to the door. I answered reluctantly, not sure why."Is Gary Bennett here?""No, I'm not sure where he is."I don't remember what he said next but I apparently thought I could help this spy guy.""I'm Dave Sowders. My wife and I are...""I know who you are."Holy crap. This was the freakiest moment of the whole trip. I have no doubt that deep in the bowels of CIA headquarters in Langley, Va., is a (hopefully thin) file with my name on it. Anyway I beat a quick retreat from Mr. Polo Shirt.The rest of the time at the Archibalds was fairly uneventful. You could watch Magnum PI in Spanish at night. During the day the boom box that played (I Just Called) to Say I Love You and We Are the World, which in that time and place seemed like a very appropriate song.There was one unfortunate incident there. Archibald had a beautiful Macaw that he had brought out of the jungle. He had it on a perch at the side of the house. I dont' know why but the bird stayed. One day it got off its perch and the dogs in the back yard had breakfast. That bird was one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen.On Thursday, Gary was finished with most of his business and in a rather expansive mood. He and Archibald offered to take me and the babies around town on a tour of sorts.The first stop was at the house of the spokesman for the Miskito contra forces. Archibald and Gary had something to discuss with him and I wasn't invited. I sat in the car with the babies while they had a lengthy talk. While I was sitting there a sullen looking guy wearing a camouflage hat passed by on a bike several times. My guess is he was some sort of security person. Whoever he was he was keeping a close eye on me.Next we went to the home of a man I was told was the No. 2 man in the Honduran intelligence service. It was a small house with a chain link fence, rather modest. And there was an old Chevy Impala sitting up on blocks in front of it. Archibald said it was there to block car bombings.Then we went to some of the more upscale areas of Tegucigalpa. The buildings were guarded by police or military to keep the poor out, I was told. They showed me the office of the 700 Club's Honduras charity, which was guarded. Both Gary and Archibald could not contain their contempt. How could they help the poor when the poor could not get to them.Then we went to a grocery store where in a bit of whimsy we put the twins in the produce scales to weigh them. We all had a good laugh.Our last stop was the airport. I had already stayed several days longer than I had anticipated and the asshole who was my direct supervisor at work was giving Denise grief because I was not back at work. So I needed to get back.At the airport we asked the ticket agent about flights the next day. At first he said there were none available. Gary asked me for some money because they were going to have to bribe him to get us on the plane. After he got paid 10 seats for our part miraculously opened up.So we were all set, or so we thought.The next day the entire traveling party, including some wounded soldiers Gary was bringing back all went to the airport. We arrived only to find there were no seats. This was bad. Archibald spotted the intelligence official whose home we had visited the day before and spoke with him. When he came back he said there was one seat available It was mine. But because I was traveling alone I could only take one of the babies.Great.I bowed my head and thought. I remembered some video I had seen of 10- and 11-year-old boys fighting with the Contras. The thought crossed my mind that someone might try to keep Matt because he was male.I quickly grabbed him and left Megan and my luggage behind. We had to hurry, the intelligence guy said. The tarmac was crowded with people but as he led me and my baby boy, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.I thanked him. He told me I was flying to San Salvador and from there I would get a connecting flight. I stumbled on board and sat down beside an American dressed in a business suit. He was very friendly and asked what we were doing.Once he learned that I was trying to adopt Matt, he tearned to him and said, "Lucky baby. Going back to the Land of the Cheeseburger." I grinned and my spirits soared with the plane as it left Honduras for the brief flight to San Salvador's relatively modern airport. On descent I saw the Pacific Ocean for the only time in person. Once on the ground I realized I had a dilemma. There were two flights to the U.S. one to Houston and one to New Orleans. I couldnt tell from my ticket which one I needed to take.I guessed (apparently correctly) that we were supposed to go to Houston. We arrived too late to catch the flight we were supposed to take to DFW, so I had to scramble to find another flight. I was lugging Matt and his diaper bag all over to the various ticket counters.Somewhere along the way I lost my ticket. I was panicking. I tried to call Denise. I tried to call some of my relatives in Houston. No go. Finally out of desperation I went to the American Airlines counter and sought out one of the agents I had talked to earlier. She had seen my ticket. She took pity on me and put me on standby for the next flight to DFW. I was lucky enough to get on the plane. I wish I had gotten that woman's name. I will always be grateful to her.Finally we made it home. We went out the door of the terminal at DFW and hit a seeming wall of heat and waited for Denise to pick us up. She was all upset that I had only brought Matt. I told her everything would be all right and that everyone else would be home tomorrow.I just hoped I was right.(Next)The Epilogue
posted by Denise at 7:13 PM 0 comments
Epilogue
The next day I had to go to work while Denise went to the airport to greet Gary and the rest of the gang. Somehow a TV news crew had gotten word of his arrival. In the footage aired Denise almost knocks Gary over to get Megan. Then she tells her that her grandfather is glad she is home. No mention of me. It was a scene of excitement and mass confusion. The earnest interviewer asked Gary about his "mission." Gary gave him the full spiel telling about soliders starving and "crawling around" because of a lack of food and medicine.But that was his story. Our story was that after three weeks we were together as a family again. And we would never be split apart again.Four years later we finally located the birthfather of Matt and Megan and got him to sign. We got video of it and he tells the kids they have several siblings and sends greetings from their natural grandparents. All the while he was wearing an "Ollie North for President Hat". In a still picture he posed with his AK-47, with bayonet affixed.We soon thereafter were able to go to court in Fort Worth, the beautiful building that was Chuck Norris' headquarters for Walker, Texas Ranger. With about 30 friends and family, including Gary Bennett and Theresa Archibald, in attendance and another TV crew recording the event, Okell and Okella Miraldo legally became Matthew Okell and Megan Okella Sowders. Amazingly Channel 4 devoted nearly 5 minutes of their newscast to our long, strange trip, complete with file footage of the war and of Gary's work with the children down there. For a few days everywhere we went people would congratulate us.It took another seven years because of some corners that were cut with their visas before they could become U.S. citizens. By now we lived in Houston, where the immigration office is only a few miles from Bush Airport, where they first touched down in America, where we lost our ticket. We had come full circle.WHERE THEY ARE NOWTEOFILIO ARCHIBALD: After the war he returned home and died of what was first believed to have been a heart attack. The family later came to believe that he was poisoned although nothing was proven conclusively. It is a fact though that several Contra leaders were assassinated during this time.THERESA ARCHIBALD: After her husband's death she went to live in Miami and at last report was splitting time between Florida and Bluefields.ANGIE BENNETT: The infant who came out with Gary on the July 1986 trip was adopted by Gary and his wife Pat. She is now a 20 year old single mother of a baby boy.GARY BENNETT: He still resides in the Fort Worth area and at least for awhile continued dabbling in business deals in Central America. He has not spoken to us in years, saying we had avoided letting him see Matt and Megan.PAT BENNETT: Her marriage to Gary is an off-and-on thing. She remains our friend. It was she who finally found the twins' birthfather and got him to sign the papers. Our debt to both Pat and Gary is eternal and we hope that someday the bad blood will subside.JAMALETTA CEPEDA: The little girl was never the same after her return to Rus Rus. Nevertheless she had a couple of good years with her foster mother, Vicki Furgatch. Unfortunately Jama never forgot what it was felt like to be starving. She would eat her food fast and she often choked, like she did in Rus Rus. One day she choked on a piece of meat and before Vicki could clear her throat she passed into a coma. She never recovered and after a week of being hooked up to a breathing machine, Vicki was forced to make the decision to end her treatment. Denise was with her at the moment when Jamaletta found the peace she never knew in life. I like to think there is a special place in heaven for Jama and children like her.VICKI FURGATCH: After Jama's death she held onto the memory of Jama. But Vicki, always a frail person, could not stand the pain. I believe she died of a broken heart. But in doing so she and Jama have a permanent mother and child reunion.CARLOS MIRALDO: We have had not contact with him since he signed the papers.EPHRAIM SMITH (AMIN): Gary's translator and Contra officer, the person who persuade the twins' father to let them go to the States, was later accused of killing two of his men for disobeying orders. He was jailed for awhile, but the charges were later dropped.MATT SOWDERS: This week he turns 21. He is married and has a 10 month old baby, Tristan Michelle. He works as the co-manager of a restaurant.MEGAN SOWDERS: This week she turns 21. She still lives at home and helps care for her two sisters and her niece. She is still not sure what she wants to do with her life although she is interested in working in film production.DENISE SOWDERS: Besides putting up with me and being a mom and grandmom, she works for an adoption agency. She helps birthmothers through the process of giving their babies up and she trains healtcare professionals to offer adoption as an option to women in crisis pregnancies.As for me, I try to keep up with what seems like an ever-expanding family. I try to do the best I can for my family. My thoughts, though often turn to those weeks in July 1986 and to the people who live all along the Rio Coco and in the hillside slums of Tegucigalpa. A part of me is still there. I would like to go back. Maybe I will someday. Who knows what tales I might have then.
posted by Denise at 8:05 PM
1 Comments:
Wow, what an amazing story. I'm glad we knew from the beginning that everything worked out, or I might not have been able to stand it. The leaps of faith you guys had to make would have killed me. To have to choose which child to leave behind, my goodness. Very special and strong people!
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