Pursuit of identity for children born outside marriage

Nationally, there are no official statistics on the number of children born outside marriage or to cohabiting couples. However, data from districts in the Lango sub-region, estimate that about 20,000 girls and women have had children out of wedlock.

Evelyn Angwech belongs to this extremely vulnerable group. Born out of wedlock, she was recently rejected by the man she claims is her father.

“He told me, ‘I am not your father. I do not have any children outside my marriage. If my wife was alive, I do not know how she would have reacted to the news that a girl is saying I am her father.’” Angwech laments.  

At 28, Evelyn Angwech is an unemployed Primary Six dropout. The rejection is a huge challenge in her pursuit of identity and property rights.

“My first problem is that I have never had parental love since I did not live with my parents. Secondly, I never had an opportunity to go to school. Thirdly, I have suffered many insults from neighbours and relatives. They call me Atin Luk,” she adds. 

In Lango, Atin Luk is a name given to illegitimate children. Their maternal family accuses them of being the reason why they were denied bride price or the customary fine that a man pays for impregnating a girl he is not married to. 

Angwech has two children. Her relationship with the children’s father failed, so she is back to square one, living in her grandmother’s home – where she grew up. They live in Ayere Cell, Barapwo Ward, in the West Division of Lira City. 

“The father of my children is an unemployed drunkard. If only my father would accept me and give me a piece of land on which I can settle with my children. That is my only request,” Angwech appeals.

Her conception
In 1996, Angwech’s mother, Anna Awor, walked out of a marriage where she had suffered constant physical abuse from her husband, Tony Opio. She left behind her three children. Now 52, Awor lives in Barobogo Cell, Ngetta Ward in Lira City’s East Division.

“When I left my husband, I met another man. We fell in love and I got pregnant with Angwech. When my husband learnt of the relationship, he asked the police to arrest us. My lover and I were remanded to (U.G. Prison) Erute. However, my lover was a rich man and he bailed himself out, leaving me there,” Awor says.   

When she was released, Awor returned to her parents’ home. Her parents were forced to refund the bride price Opio had paid at their wedding. 

“My lover denied the pregnancy and later, rejected the baby when she was born. By that time, I had discovered that he was a married man. He refused to support me or provide for the child. My family took over Angwech’s upbringing,” Awor adds. 

Based in her mother’s house, Awor went on to have three children from three different men. Today, she regrets the kind of life she lived before.

“Those men would take me from this house, impregnate me and then reject me. I would then return. I would always believe the next one would be better than the last one but they all turned out to be bad men. However, those three children have been accepted by their fathers. It is only Angwech who was rejected,” Awor laments.   

Because her mother was in and out of one cohabiting relationship or the other, Angwech lived with her grandmother. When she grew older, she began asking about the whereabouts of her father. Each time, she was told that the man had died a long time ago. 

“When I turned 18, I decided to look for my father on my own. At the time, I was living with my aunt in Akitenino, in West Division. My cousin told me my father was living in the same neighbourhood with us. She promised to take me to his home,” Angwech says.

However, when her aunt discovered their plan, she kicked the girl out of her home and ordered her to return to her grandmother.

“Aunt said I wanted to antagonise my father’s family. When I returned home, I asked my grandmother if that man was my father and she confirmed it. My mother also confirmed it,” she adds.  

Meeting her father
One day, Angwech got the courage to confront the man she had been told was her father. He operates a veterinary shop on Olwol Road in Lira City. He welcomed her into his shop.

“We sat down and I narrated to him my situation. He told me he was not my father, saying he did not have a child outside his marriage. He went on to say that I had come to him when I was already 18 and an adult. ‘What do you want me to do for you? You can take care of yourself,’” Angwech says. 

The beleaguered girl decided to find a man of her own and she bore two children. However, the relationship did not work out and she returned to her grandmother with her children. 

“The living conditions are not good because I returned from a failed relationship. My grandmother’s relatives disturb me. I was suffering in my marriage, and now I am suffering here as well. My mother says my father is a bad hearted man,” she says.

Plight of illegitimate children
On appeal from Angwech, Elizabeth Alyano, the executive director of Centre for Women and Children Reintegration (CEWOCHR), a local Non-Governmental Organisation, approached the veterinary doctor intending to convince him to acknowledge his daughter.

“I asked him to take a DNA test so that the matter could be settled. He said he did not want anything that would take him to court. His daughter wants an identity. She needs to belong somewhere because the family she is living with discriminates, insults and stigmatises her. The situation is worse now because she returned from a failed marriage,” she says.

When the dialogue did not work, Alyano began looking for the veterinary doctor’s clan. Last week, she was able to make contact with some influential people in the clan.

“Surprisingly, these people did not know that that man belonged to their clan. In the dialogue we are initiating, we will ask the clan to allocate her some land and if they agree, sign a reintegration certificate. If they do not, our next step will be to plan an economic empowerment programme for her so that she can start a new life,” Alyano adds.

In many cases, illegitimate children grow up with their grandmothers or aunts especially if their mothers get married to other men or move on with their lives.  

Naume Apio has never known who her father is. The 14-year-old is a Primary Six learner at Ober Primary School in Barr Sub-county, Lira District. Her mother died when she was two years old. 

“I live with my grandmother and my aunt but none of them have told me anything concerning my father. If I get the chance to meet my father, I will ask why he abandoned me to suffer in this life,” she says softly.

Like other children from disadvantaged families, Apio does not eat lunch at school. She only smells the aroma of fried bean sauce and posho (maize bread) being served to the other learners who can afford to pay for lunch. 

“Lunch at school is expensive. Every term, each learner is required to take six kilograms of beans, eight kilograms of maize flour and Shs10,000. My grandmother cannot afford to pay this,” she says. 

Evelyn Acam, a resident of Awigweno Awir Village, Akangi Parish, Ogur Sub-county, in Lira District, is actively tracing her late sister’s boyfriend. Her sister, Jennifer Ayugi, is the mother of Apio.

“My elder sister spent a long time living in Namungoona, Rubaga Division in Kampala City. In 2010, she fell ill and returned to the village with a baby. Unfortunately, she died. I am now taking care of the girl,” she says.

Ayugi passed away without disclosing the identity of the girl’s father. Acam decries the expenses associated with Apio’s upbringing.  

“Paying her school fees is difficult for me. I also find a challenge when she falls sick. However, feeding her is not a problem because I have a lot of food here. However, if I get married where will she stay? The man I get married to will not take care of her. That is why I want her to find her people,” Acam says.

She has contacted her sister’s former neighbours but they do not know the identity of Apio’s father. 

“I want to meet my father so that he can start paying my school fees and buy for me other school requirements such as books, pens, sets, bags and a school uniform which I do not have,” Apio appeals.

The social problem 
The tradition that allows men to father many children irrespective of whether they take care of them or not has been identified as one of the sources of the problem.
 
Alyano, who is a former probation and social welfare officer in Lira district, also lays the blame on the weaknesses of the judicial system. 

“We would register cases of women and children in when we took them to the police, that would be the end of it. We do not know what happened at the police station because the men would become adamant that they will not meet their children. The police would lose interest,” she says.

Another problem is the low uptake of family planning methods and the limited access to sexual reproductive health information (SRHI).

Angwech’s mother, Anna Awor, eventually returned to her first husband’s home, where he gave her a piece of land on which she constructed a semi-permanent house and a hut, and is cultivating some crops. However, he does not want her other children born to different fathers. 

“The children I got with Opio brought me back to their father’s home. The hut behind mine is occupied by my daughter who recently returned from a failed marriage. My advice to women is that however bad the relationship is, just stay there. Do not leave. I feel responsible for Angwech’s plight because my wandering around with different men has affected her.,” she says. 

Because our customs and norms are built around clans and kinship, society is more comfortable helping an orphan because his or her father was buried in broad daylight with many witnesses.  

“Women have told me that if the illegitimate child is a girl, never carry her into your marriage because you will end up sharing your husband with her. And the selfish reason men give for sleeping with their stepdaughters is, ‘I’m feeding her and educating her. I will gain nothing in the end. Besides, we are not related,’” Alyano says. 

Marriage in Uganda is loosely defined. Even a cohabiting couple is considered to be married as long as the man’s relatives acknowledge the woman and the children. 

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