Marina Chapman - The Girl with No Name: The Incredible True Story of a Child Raised by Monkeys: The Incredible True Story of a Child Raised by Monkeys

the girl

with no name

THE INCREDIBLE STORY OF A CHILD RAISED BY MONKEYS

marina chapman

with Vanessa James and

Lynne Barrett-Lee

PEGASUS BOOKS

NEW YORK LONDON

Contents

This book is dedicated to Maria Nelly & Amadeo (Forero)

And in memory of loving Maruja

Foreword

Stop the car, John. I want to get out!

Hearing my mothers words, my father glanced in the rear-view mirror and skidded to a halt without saying a word. It was as if they had a secret arrangement, though no one knew what she was about to do. The sun was gradually retiring from the sky as dusk approached, and the quiet Yorkshire country lane where we stopped was framed by dark hedges. They stood tall, like a domineering army barrier, protecting the miles of open space beyond.

My mother rushed from the car excitedly, jumped over the hedge and disappeared from view. My fertile young imagination went into overdrive with possibilities. What was going on?

My eyes were fixed on the dense shrubbery as I eagerly watched for her return. After some time, I saw a flash of messy black hair. Mum climbed carefully back over the hedge, holding something in both hands. I watched her petite feet as they dangled over the edge before she jumped nimbly back onto the roadside. She bounced back into the car, panting from her exertions and grinning at my older sister and me with her wide Latino smile. In her lap, firmly clasped, was a large, unhappy wild rabbit. I got you a pet, girls! she announced in delight.

That is the earliest memory I have of my mother, and of my first pet, Mopsy. I wasnt surprised at my mothers actions; when youve been brought up around her quirky and unpredictable performances, this was just another ordinary day.

My mother has often said, A life like mine isnt extraordinary in Colombia. Ask any street child, and youll have your story there. She has never thought her own story special, as kidnappings, abductions, drugs, crime, murder and child abuse are a common theme in descriptions of Colombia in the 1950s and 60s.

You may be wondering why my mother is choosing to share her story now, after so many decades. Well, to be honest, shes never had the desire to do so. Shes not one for chasing the neon lights of fame or gain, for she is simply besotted with having her own home and a family her ultimate goal and dream.

This book began purely as a daughter writing down her mothers life story. It was my way of documenting our family heritage, as I realised Mum wasnt getting any younger and her memory might start to fade with each year. I also wanted to understand the struggle she had gone through, without which my sister Joanna and I would not even exist.

Its not been easy to piece together Mums tangled memories, but after two years of chatting over many cups of coffee, delving deep into her past and making a research trip back to Colombia in April 2007, we then started to build a picture from her floating memories. And it soon became clear that we had a great book.

Although we hadnt started the project with this in mind, we began to see the potential benefits that releasing her story might bring, such as the chance of bringing forward Mums real family. And in a world where millions of parents have lost their children in similar ways, we hoped that her story might bring some hope or comfort.

It also gives us the opportunity to shine a light upon certain charities that are dear to Mums heart: SFAC (Substitute Families for Abandoned Children), a non-profit charity founded within our family, and the deserving monkey charity NPC (Neotropical Primate Conservation). In addition, we hope that to hear how a fellow human triumphed over adversity in so many ways will provide those in darkness with inspiration.

People often ask me how I learned about Mums story. Its never been a case of her sitting us down to tell us about her past but more that almost every day something would remind her of her time in the jungle. A vanilla pod, for instance, would open up the paintbox for her to colour a whole magical world for me right there in the kitchen. I loved seeing her excitement when she rediscovered something from her past like finding a picture of a certain plant or tree, or visiting a market stall to find the variety of banana that was a certain monkeys favourite.

And the story didnt come out only through her words but also as a result of her actions. Being brought up by such a wild and spontaneous mother suggested to us that she herself had been raised by another breed. She has always been our own monkey mummy. She was sometimes criticised for her unorthodox style of parenting, but her only example was from a troop of monkeys. So, from what weve seen, my sister and I are clear they must be the most loving, fun, inventive, creative parents on the planet!

Typical adventures of a Chapman day out would involve us three girls scaling the trees while Dad studied the bark and lichen below (no doubt pulling out his pocket specimen bottles). At some point there might be an animal-rescue mission, then a spot of getting lost as a result of trying to discover a hidden back road or following something that sparked our curiosity, and the day would usually finish with Mum cooking up steaks on the portable BBQ (which would be brought out without fail in all seasons, even in snow). Thanks to my family, I am rarely able to have a normal walk, simply following the path. Instead, I often return home with twigs in my hair.

Painting a picture of life at home involves revealing some embarrassing truths, although its only since moving away that I have realised how unusual we were. We had an unconventional way of asking for food at times. As a game, Mum would sometimes sit with a bowl of sweet porridge and have my sister and me ask for it by doing our best monkey impressions. Im glad social services never visited us!

After dinner, we would often spend what felt like hours grooming one another, by picking through each others hair. It was a magnificently relaxing activity the best way to pass the time and the three of us would appear to be in an almost drugged state. I remember when a case of head lice plagued our school I think that had to be the highest point of our grooming careers!

When it came to pets, shed only allow us to have one if they were out of cages during the day. Caged animals upset her. So we had a number of rabbits who hopped around our garden and those of our neighbours, although this didnt work so well with the birds, obviously

As she couldnt read well, I dont remember Mum reading me a bedtime story. Instead, she would invent stories of her own. She would come up with the most magical tales and base them on one of my less admirable character traits (such as lateness or over-sleeping). It would unfold into a gripping story that ultimately taught me valuable lessons in life. She has never let her so-called deficiencies stop her from giving us the best upbringing. The one she never had for herself.

*

As far as Colombia is concerned, much has changed over forty years. Today, it is a vibrant, progressive and, in the main, safe place, but when my mother was growing up there in the 1950s and 60s certain parts were plagued by kidnapping, trafficking, corruption, drugs, crime and injustice. The countrys response to attempted social reform by the liberals in the late 1940s brought forward a decade of rebellion and banditry. They call this era La Violencia. Accounts of killings, torture, abduction and rape were common, and there was an atmosphere of insecurity and fear. Hundreds of thousands of deaths (including those of innocent children) came about because of this unrest. That Colombia is very much still in Mums blood. When she had just given birth to my sister Joanna, she wouldnt let the nurses take her from her because, from what she knew, a hospital was a market place for swapping a handicapped child for a healthy one or stealing newborn babies to sell on.