What do a vintage 1960’s California Flower Child, a Reggae-loving Indian Ocean Island Guy and an abandoned boy from war-ravaged South East Asia have in common?

They’re a family.

Meet the Benoitons. From far-flung corners of the world, circumstance, luck, fate brought them together. Some things are meant to be and some families are not born, but created.

Sandra started out near San Francisco and lived most of her life in California. When her children grew up and left home she grew restless, so in 1993 at the age of 41 she sold her company, donned a backpack and set off on a journey around the world.

Mark’s parents relocated from England to the Indian Ocean Island of Mahe in the Seychelles in 1972. Mark was seven at the time and had an idyllic childhood in his home on the beach, with a large extended family and days filled with activities most kids get to pursue only on vacations—fishing, sailing, windsurfing, snorkeling. By his early 20’s, though, options limited by the confines of an island only 17 miles long forced him back to the U.K. where he joined the Dorset police force. A 1993 holiday brought him back to Seychelles.

Sandra and Mark fell in love and were married a year after a chance meeting in the village of Baie Lazare on Mahe in Seychelles, one of Sandra’s stops during her trot around the globe. There had been some discussion of children early in the relationship, but the possibility of making one was ruled out due to Sandra’s age (43 at the time they married). Adoption was an option, but there were careers to build, so many places to see and too many things to do, so they quite happily set about living their lives as adults for adults. They stayed in England a few years, then opted for the tropics and life in Seychelles.

Six years in the future and the couple found themselves confronted with a situation they could not ignore—a two-year-old child had been left with his aged and incompetent father and was neglected, covered in rashes and festering insect bites, and suffering from raging ear infections. They took him into their home and hearts and healed him, body and soul. For almost two years the little boy was a sweet focus for their lives and they realized two things: 1) they enjoyed being parents, and 2) they were good at it. Sadly, the boy was taken by his biological mother to Thailand and not seen again.

Mark and Sandra returned to their adult oriented life together, but although they’d not planned a place for a child in their world there was now a hole where there had been no hole. There was also an increasing awareness of the hundreds of thousands of children on the planet who have no one, who spend their years in institutional care without a hope of family. Their foster son had shown them the devastating effects of neglect and the reality of complete abandonment for so many troubled them profoundly.

Mark was running a hotel at the time, and one day found himself watching a scene that touched his heart: a middle-aged European couple playing in the swimming pool, then having lunch with a little dark girl, obviously adopted and obviously adored. He observed this family over the course of their holiday in the hotel and loved what he saw. Warmth and affection flowed generously between these three people.

A seed was planted. Mark decided to broach the issue of adoption with Sandra. The day after the conversation she shifted to ‘mother on a mission’ mode, totally committed to the idea. Local adoptions were considered, but found to be impossible. Adoption in the Western sense is a foreign concept in Seychelles and not practiced. Unwanted children are farmed out to relatives or put in “temporary” care until such time as a blood relation chooses to take them in. Too often this never happens, but the option of permanent placement does not exist.

A search began to find THE child among the world’s children. There was no thought to race or ethnicity, as these are non-issues in their families and in Seychelles. Half of Sandra’s family in California is Chinese, and the Seychellois half of Mark’s genes, like most families in the country, boasts every sort from White to Black to both East- and South-Asian. Information was gleaned about programs in Kazakhstan, Ethiopia, China, Vietnam, Guatemala and South Africa and many agencies were contacted. The responses, however, were not encouraging. Most in the international adoption world were not willing or able to deal with a family living in a small and unknown country like Seychelles. They’d never heard of the place, so how could they try to place a child there? Why would they bother when there were so many other families in America or Britain or South Africa? There was also some unspoken, yet palpable, sense that desperation, greed or selfishness somehow motivated a request for assistance in international adoptions.

Ever the believer in things meant to be Sandra soldiered on, confident she would eventually find the right person to help her find her child.

Enter FHSA and Bonnie Loza Thankfully.

With a self-professed and sincere passion for the worlds’ children, Bonnie’s attitude was “Can do, let’s make it happen!” from the first contact, and she did. Her first wonderful contribution was to suggest a Cambodian child. With the suspension in place for Americans in America she saw a real need to place children from that tragic country. With this suggestion, a bit of checking around, and then seeing Bonnie’s little Cam twins on her web site, Sandra was sure that Cambodia was the place to search for the boy who would be her son.

The dossier compiling geared up and the process commenced. Anyone involved in the playing field (Or is it a mine field?) on which adoption takes place is more than familiar with the paper chase, the waiting game and the run around that make up the process. Mark and Sandra had much less than most, however, because Seychelles has no issue with adopted children coming into the country. There were no governmental hoops to jump through, and because the country is so small (only 80,000 people) everyone knows everyone and everyone knew them, knew they are good people who’d been good parents to the little boy they’d fostered and would be a wonderful Mom and Dad to a child of their own. Bonnie took care of the Cambodian side of things and within a reasonable period of time, although it seemed ages to Sandra, the received their referral.

That was a moment!

They were told that the boy was normal and healthy. They were told that he had been born on the 10th of November 2002. They were told that a nanny was presently caring for him in an orphanage in Cambodia. What they were not told was that they would love this boy at first sight. With the referral photos, Sam (as he would be called) became their son.

The process went the way it does when Bonnie is taking care of things--smoothly and without surprises. Being on the same side of the globe as their boy made things convenient, and Sandra and Mark were in Singapore when word came that they had the Final Decree and were free to travel on to Phnom Penh.

On the 8th of February 2003 they took the two-hour flight to Cambodia, arriving at 9:30 in the morning where a driver met them. Ten minutes into the drive to the Hotel Cambodiana, the driver’s cell phone rang. Astonishingly, he passed the phone to Sandra. It was for her. The Cambodian facilitator was on the line.

"Would you like to pick up your son?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” she responded.

He wasn’t. About forty minutes outside the city, down roads choked with dust, chickens, children and motorbikes, the orphanage appeared like an oasis of white in a world of ruddy earth tones and grime. Spotlessly clean with smiling children and friendly-faced grown-ups, it was recognizable as the background for all the photos Sandra and Mark had seen of Sam. They knew the blue grout between the terracotta tiles, the scattered toys and sparse trees, and they knew they were about to meet the newest member of the family.

With their hearts well wedged in their throats, they entered a room and saw the baby sound asleep on a mat on the floor with a hot pink food net placed over him to keep him safe from mosquitoes and flies. He was tiny, smaller than he had looked in photos, 13 weeks old that very day, and wearing a pink and white onesy and pink socks. (To match the food net?) His nanny sat beside him, a tin of baby formula and a few small toys carefully arranged next to her. Her face was composed, a polite smile on her lips, but sadness and a bit of anxiety were easy to read there. She had cared for this boy, known in the orphanage as Sen Chey, since he was eight days old, and she’d cared for him well. She’d loved him and fed him and cleaned him and now presented Sandra and Mark with a beautiful, healthy and chubby baby.

Introductions were made: the facilitator, the orphanage director, the nanny, the baby, the new mom and dad. The food net was put aside and Sandra and Mark joined the company on the floor where they gazed in wonder at the tiny human about to be their son. Sandra gently stroked the baby’s feet and as she did he opened his eyes. With his focus directly on his new mother, he presented her with a toothless smile; little angel lips stretched wide and eyes shining.

The next hour filled with questions and answers on the baby’s past and his present schedule, feeding habits, sleep patterns and so on, all in a bit of a blur to the excited parents. The couple had brought gifts for the children who would not be leaving the orphanage, a small contribution for the 130 or so left behind, and these were presented: medicines and goodies, milk powder, rice and other basics. Photos were snapped for posterity and official records, and a bonding process that began with a picture some months before was completed.

Soon it was time to leave. Sandra and Mark had been living this moment for months and were excited and grateful, and full to the top with love for each other and their boy. Sam was dressed in new clothes purchased specially for the occasion--pink socks and onesy left for other children who would need them—and carried to the waiting car in the arms of his mother while his father gently helped them settle in the back seat. The nanny followed and watched as Sen Chey transformed into Sam and her role and the orphanage became his past. She waved for as long as the car was in view and she did not cry.

Absorbing as much as possible of Phnom Penh in the few days they had, the family of three explored the city. Tragedy drapes Cambodia; it’s on every structure, every face. The proud and ancient culture, the civilization that built the wondrous Ankor Wat, has been mutilated by genocide recent enough to leave bloodstains, bones, nightmares on every corner. So recent, in fact, that Sam’s biological parents were sure to have suffered, like almost every Cambodian, at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. Mark, Sandra and Sam did not limit their explorations to the confines of their hotel, the National Museum and the Royal Palace. The Killing Fields Monument at Choeung Ek, with its stupa of human skulls, and Tol Sleng prison, the Genocide Museum, were necessary visits.

Every foray outside of the hotel caused some anxiety for the new parents, as the sight of a western couple with an obviously Khmer child is traffic stopping in Cambodia. Motorbikes would slow to nothing while riders nudged each other and gestured, and people on sidewalks lurched toward the stroller, reaching for the baby. Legions of child beggars converged on the family, staring at the baby and demanding money in their few words of English. A conversation with friends who live in Phnom Penh set their minds at ease, however, when it was explained that there was nothing hostile in the reactions of the local people. Although they did not understand why anyone would take one of their unwanted children, they did see something noble in it. There was also more than a little envy for the child who would live a life outside Cambodia. More than once Sam was referred to as “the lucky one”.

A week in Singapore was sandwiched in between Sam’s past and future, between Cambodia and Seychelles. Necessary items for baby were purchased and the routine of the family began to take shape. Finally, on the 21st of February the family landed on Mahe. A sleepy, but excited, welcoming committee of friends and grandparents had arrived at the airport at 4 am and took turns admiring and hugging Sam and congratulating Mark and Sandra. The Benoitons were home.

For this family the world is a small and wonderful place. And it doesn’t matter where you start out, for if you’re meant to be together you certainly can be.