AS TOLD TO BC PIRES

My name is Diane Sanchez and I have been searching more than 20 years for the Trinidadian family that adopted me until I were eight years old.

I was born Diane Mohansingh in Sangre Grande. I lived with my papa Lewis Joseph in Valencia from a baby until I was eight, when my mom took me back. I remember Papa had blonde hair and blue eyes, very white skin. He would say he was from Portugal. I’ve been trying to get in touch with his children, Rosanne, Susanne and George for years. They were older than me, maybe in their 30s. Roseanne had two daughters, Janelle and Jennifer. I remember George would bring me clothings and stuff that I need.

Brooklyn, New York, is my home now. It’s part of me. I have a family of my own. I’m married to Chris Sanchez and have two boys, Christian, four, Daniel, 13, and a girl, three, Julianna. I treat them nice, like the first parents treated me. I think positive and try to meditate and everything I do is for them. I have never been back to Trinidad.

I was raised in many faiths. When I moved back to my mom, they were Hindus. When my dad passed away, she become Christian. When I came to America, I become Muslim. And then, when I met Chris, I found peace. My kids are baptised Catholic. Chris’ dad is from Cuba and his mother is Italian. We speak English at home. My kids say, “Hey, Alexa, how you say 'good morning' in Spanish?”

I spent the first eight years of my life in Valencia with Papa. When my mom took me back, I stayed with her for maybe six or seven years and then I came to America. In those first eight years of my life, I didn’t know my birth-mother at all. I never seen her. I was eight years old when she just appeared and snatched me away. I didn’t even know she was my mother. I called her “Auntie.”

Lewis, my papa, did had a lady who would come every two to three days. But she didn’t live with us. She just visits and goes back.

I remember going to Rosanne’s house in Port of Spain somewhere but I forgot the name of the place. I was little. It might be Diego Martin. I would play with Janelle and Jennifer in the backyard of their house. I remember riding a bike with them.

I remember Rosanne’s husband was a dentist. He made a pair of dentures for my papa. Walking home on the trail in Valencia where we lived, three bandits came out of the bushes and start beating him with the machete on his back. I was screaming. They had a gun to my head. He gives them everything, money everything, and they still beat him up. I wanted to do something but I was so little. The bottom dentures came off and he never found it again.

I am hoping Rosanne or Susanne or George might read this. Since I was little, my whole life, I think of them. I don’t know if they were looking for me as well. I’m hoping they were. It would be the nicest thing, to find them. They were really, really nice people.

I don’t think I ever went to school for the first ten years of my life. Yes, BC Pires, this is country life in Trinidad! The real country life! When I came to America when I was 16,

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Oliver A. Cornelius Sr. Dies at 76

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