How do you recognise a blood relative?

A deaf child in India divides her world into three kinds of people — those who live together in the same house; frequent visitors (the driver, the uncles, cousins); and infrequent visitors. Representation pic

Let's think about relatives. How do you know those two people in the photo are really your parents? You answer that you've always called him papa and her mama. But does that prove they're your parents? You say there are photographs showing your mother with the new baby (you), so there's your proof. The father is not visible, having been behind the camera at the time but there's definitely a family photo of everyone together taken a week later.

Wait a moment, though. The photo only shows two adults holding you. Can that be considered proof enough that you share a blood link with them?

Feeling cornered, you demand to know what my point is anyway? Chrissakes, you know who your parents are. For that matter, you know your uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews too. All blood relatives. You know it. Everybody knows it.

No further proof required.

It was not till I began working with deaf Indian youth in 1997 to explore how being deaf made them sexually vulnerable that I started realising the limits of what your eyes can tell you about your relationships. There are the obvious things you can tell by just looking at a person - gender, height, perhaps race, age, temperament. Posture, expression and clothing add more information.

One thing you can't tell by looking at someone is whether they're related to you. A blood relationship does not show up in any publicly visible way. And no, facial resemblance won't cut it. I've been told that I look like Mr Jeff Goldblum from certain angles and Mr Naseeruddin Shah from others, no insult intended to either. So much for resemblances and blood links.

A blood relative has nothing to do with blood at all. A DNA test might establish paternity, murder or rape, but it can't prove that Bob's your uncle. A blood relative is defined simply as someone linked to you by birth rather than marriage.

The conclusion is hard to avoid - you know someone is a blood relative because someone told you so. It's hearsay and good faith. Your eyes don't tell you who your relatives are. Your ears do.

So what if you were born deaf? What if you were born deaf in India? Back in the late 1990s, there was no nationally recognised and taught Indian Sign Language. An Indian Sign Language with about 7,000 words is only now being compiled, but it's decades away from being taught.

So how does a deaf child know who her relatives are?

She has no idea what a blood relationship is. Words like aunt, uncle, nephew, brother, sister and cousin mean nothing to her. In her silent world is a house where several human beings live together. Some are older and more authoritative, and of them, a male and a female in particular seem to be in charge. They like to be called ‘mummy' and ‘daddy'.

The others, perhaps three or four, do things together, and sleep on the same bed. The deaf child is made to understand that they are somehow related to her. To a deaf child, family means a group of people who inhabit the same house with her.

Others come and go. A maid comes and cleans, perhaps cooks. She seems to live in a world of her own. She never sits in the living room or has a cup of tea with the lady called mummy.

Then there is the fellow who drives the car. And the one who takes out the garbage. Also a couple of young lads and lasses who come by often to play. They are called ‘cousins'.

I learned, with a creeping sense of unease, that a deaf child in India divides her world into three kinds of people - those who live together in the same house; frequent visitors (the driver, the uncles, cousins); and infrequent visitors.

Since I was exploring sexual risk, I asked them about touching. Where would they tolerate being touched, and by whom? In the family, touching was not an issue. An older person could touch a younger one in more places than others, and a boy could touch a girl in more places. Parents had the greatest freedom of touch.

Frequent visitors too had freedom of touch, since they seemed welcome and liked.

Sexual abuse of deaf children is uncounted, unreported and largely undocumented but by my research, extremely common. The most common perpetrators are those the child has classified as ‘frequent visitors' - the cousins, the uncles, the drivers.

And how does a deaf child respond to it?

Three deaf girls were talking. One gestured, "That uncle man comes into my bed every night and touches me a lot. Is that okay?"

The second girl signed - "So does mine."

The third one shrugged and signed, "It must be normal in that case. Nothing to worry about."

Here, viewed from there. C Y Gopinath, in Bangkok, throws unique light and shadows on Mumbai, the city that raised him. You can reach him at cygopi@gmail.com
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