Thursday, March 29, 2007

In the womb of a mother . . .
.





What is a surrogate-mother? have you been a surrogate-mother? Do you know anyone that have been surrogate-mother?

In a periode in the midt 1980's, it was so much talking about that subject, but so it suddenly became very silent and at the ned, it shows that no one actually wants to be a surrogat-mother unless in maybe very personal, familiar situations.

So . . . what are "they" doing then, today?


I know how "they" get surrogate-mothers today. . . I have been used as a surrogate-mother.

Here is a parcel from my book; "Tell Me Who I Am"

. . . . . . . . . . . .


One day they came and collected me, after first having drugged me to sleep. I woke up in a hospital, strapped to a bed. For two years I was in this bed, strapped, fed by drips in my arms. They took a child from me every fifth month. Artificially inseminated or embryo-implant. After the fifth month, they could put the child in an incubator until it had grown enough to live. Between every new embryo-implant, they also took eggs from my ovaries. I asked them why the were doing this to me.
One of them answered: “No one wants to be surrogate mother. This is the only way. And everybody wants you to be the surrogate mother for their child.”
“But who take care of my children?” I asked.
He answered: “That’s not my problem. This is written in your destiny, that you should be a harlot. So, since you don’t want to be a hooker, we are only helping you, Kirsten. You have to follow your destiny.”
“My destiny . . . What do you mean? So far as I know, this has nothing to do with destiny; it has to do with your satanic organization.”
“No, Kirsten, read the Bible, and you will see . . . It says that you will be called ’The Big Harlot’.”
“The Bible . . . What has the Bible to do with it all?”
Well, I was thinking to myself, if the Bible and God have something to do with this kind of terror, then maybe I can ask God for help? I started to pray, and asked God to release me from this bed and the terror of it.
The same night, the straps suddenly opened up, I don’t know how, but I jumped down on the floor, tore out all the needles in my arms and looked into a locker. I found a nurse’s frock and a pair of sandals. I put them on and run out, just as a taxi was about to leave. I jumped into the taxi.
It was then I realized that I was not in my own country. The taxi driver spoke English. I asked him where I was and he told me New York. I told him to drop me off in one of the poorest suburbs. He drove me to a place and stopped the car and looked at me. He said: “I won’t go further into this place. From here, you are on your own. But be careful, because this area is dangerous. If you want, I can take you back.”
But I didn’t want to go back to any place. I wanted this area.
It’s easier to hide in a poor, overpopulated area. I paid him with some money I found in the pocket of the frock.
The whole night, I was walking the streets. I saw some people sitting around a small fire they had made in the corner of two houses. They had made some tea. I went down to them and asked if I could join them for a cup of tea. At first they though I was a cop or something, but after a while and a lot of talk, they accepted me as a friend in need.
The next day, I went to a bank and reported my Visa card stolen. It took two weeks before I got a new one.
In the meantime, I stayed in the poor area. One of my new “friends” took me to a kind of café where he thought I maybe could get some work. I asked for the manager.
When he came, I told him a bit about me and asked him if he could give work until the baby came. I also asked him if he had a place for me that I could rent.
He looked at me for a long time before he answered.
I got work in his café and he gave me a small place to live, in the poor area, as well as some used clothes I could wear until I got my Visa card. I cleaned up the one room and kitchen he had given to me.
He turned out to be very nice man. He helped me in all ways, so far as he could. In a strange way, I liked my new life in this poor area. I worked as a kind of waitress. The small café was very popular and always full of people. After work, I started to wash down the café. First I scrubbed the floor and the tables. I put a napkin on each table with a small vase with some flowers I had picked along the road and washed the windows so they sparkled.
The next day, when people started to come, they looked around and asked: “Why all these changes?”
I answered: “Only the best is good enough for the best people in the world>“
They laughed and one guy called Gunshot said: “So you think we are the best people in the world?”
I answered: “At least, the best people I have met.”
They laughed again.
One day, one of the regular guests came in haste to the café and said that there were some strangers in the area.
My boss told me to go to the kitchen and not come out before he told me the coast was clear. I went into the kitchen and tried to help washing some dishes, but I was so nervous.
By now, everybody knew my story. Some believed it, some not. But now, they all understood that these people were looking for me.
Suddenly, I heard me boss say: “Gunshot, can you please take Kitty to the vet? She maybe has eaten something which doesn’t agree with her. I’m afraid she’ll die.”
Gunshot answered: “Where is that fuck’n cat?”
I stiffened in the kitchen. I knew it was me they meant. They used to call me Kitty. I understood the strangers were inside the café.
My boss told him an address and at the same time he asked another guy if he could go and bring some vine from the cellar.
He and the guy came into the kitchen. He gave some instructions to the guy and gave me a sign to follow the guy down to the cellar. I felt numb and dry in my mouth with fear.
We went down. It showed up that the cellars of the buildings were connected with a door. We ran down the stairs and through a corridor, through a door to the cellar of the next house and up. The guy stopped me and signaled to me to wait while he went out to look if everything was clear. Outside was Gunshot with a car. He opened the door to the back seat. The guy came and told me to run fast into the car and lie down on the seat. I had hardly got into the car before he closed the door and Gunshot started to drive. After a while I peeped up, and could see that he wasn’t driving in the direction of my home.
I got scared and confused. “This is not the way to my home,” I said.
He looked at me and said: “Do you trust me?”
“Do I have any choice?” I asked.
He said: “Look, you are in danger, girl, and I am trying to help. I have a friend living outside the town up the mountain. I will bring you to him and you can stay with him until the people have left the area. But it will cost you some money. Do you have money?”
“How much?” I asked.
“Five hundred bucks. Do you have that?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I will try, “ I said.
He stopped at an ATM machine and said: “If you don’t have enough, give me what you think it’s worth to save your life.”
I got out $500 and gave them to him.
We continued to drive for almost half an hour, when he turned into a small road which went up towards the mountain. We drove up the road to the end. He parked the car and we went by foot, walking for another half an hour to a lake. At a small place beside the river was a small barrack. We went up and a man came out. I felt tired and dirty and asked if I could go to the river and take a bath. While I was at the river, Gunshot had a long talk with the man, who was called Hermit.
Hermit allowed me to stay with him for a while. His small home was only one room containing a camp bed with two foam mattresses upon each other, a small table, a stool and a small gas oven to make food.
Gunshot asked me what food I needed. I told him to buy the basic stuff, like flour, sugar, salt, pepper, rice, tea, coffee, potatoes and bread. He left, but came back again some hours later with a big carton full of food. Hermit took one mattress from his bed and put it on the floor by the short wall.
Hermit was a nice guy, we went well together. He didn’t talk too much, and every day he went fishing up the stream or hunted birds and rabbits. I kept the small place clean and made food.
One day, I went with him up the stream. While he was fishing, I went into the forest to find mushrooms and berries. After a while I could hear him calling me. I answered, but he continued to call as if he had not heard me and I noticed his voice got nervous. I ran out of the wood and he came up to me in a hurry and asked if everything was okay. I didn’t understand why he was so nervous and told him that I was only collecting berries and mushrooms.
He looked at me and said: “I have promised Gunshot to take care of you, and nothing must happen to you so long as you are here. I need no problems with Gunshot. Do you understand that? No one need problems with Gunshot.”
He had never said so much in one go before. I suddenly understood more than what he had said, much more. After that, I always answered and came out from the wood so he could see me every time he called me.
Gunshot came with new supply of food from time to time. He always asked me what I wanted him to bring the next time he came. Also once I gave him the key to my flat, asking him to bring me some changes of clothes.
One day he came and said: “You better come with me down again now, Kitty. I’m in big shit. They believed that I have killed you and want to call the police, if you don’t show up by tomorrow. They don’t understand that I only wanted you to be here until those people have left the whole area. They left our street, but they were in the area for a long time and asked around. Now there are rumors that I have killed you. This made the people leave the area, but I’m in big shit. So now, you go back for a while . . . Eh?”
I had stayed with Hermit for two months, and was afraid I would have lost both job and home when I got back. But it was all there. Everybody looked relaxed that I looked safe and sound.
I told my boss everything that had happened. When he heard I had paid $500 he shouted out that the bastard had ripped me off. I calmed him down and said: “Maybe it appears like that, but he saved my life, made sure that I was in a safe place, brought food once a week and . . . Maybe it was not so bad after all . . Eh?”

. . . . . . . .

You can read the rest of the story in my book . . . .


You can get your copy of the book here,

click the link above

13 comments:

Hammer said...

I recommend this book very highly.

Vinicio said...

your book being advertised in the profile section, in this blog page, and also your responce to: Favorite Books- "Tell me who I am" ISBN: 978-1-84401-7379 Author: Kirsten Nour Namskau Publisher: Athena Press

and now the continuous entries about it. There must be a purpose in this mass advertising besides the "information" it supposedly entails.Care to give a reason?

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

Vinicio: To open the eyes of humanity.
We talk so warm about how fantasic everything are without looking behind the "mask of beauty."

Do you have problem with that? To face the truth!?

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

Hammer: Thank you.

flic said...

You have such a nice (yet somewhat sad) smile on the cover of the book.

KB said...

Still, I don't know what to think....but I am reading your book =)

BBC said...

Actually, the book seems to have a lot of fiction in it. This is why I can't get into it.

For example, "They took a child from me every fifth month. Artificially inseminated or embryo-implant. After the fifth month, they could put the child in an incubator until it had grown enough to live. Between every new embryo-implant, they also took eggs from my ovaries. I asked them why the were doing this to me."

I find this very hard to swallow. In your child bearing years as far as I know you were married and had children of your own.

Where was husband and kids when all this supposedly was going on?

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

BBC: Not one page is fiction. The book is written in a way so it should be easy for any authority to investigate if it’s true or not, which also already have been done. That you don’t know what’s going on around does not mean it does not exist. Medical scientist has come much further than the official knowledge.
I was not the first one, not the only one, nor the last one that experience these things. I am only ONE OF THEM.
We actually hear about people in trauma like me, every day, but deny the truth and cover it in lies.
If we read about something in the newspaper / hear on TV, we refuse it in the moment a person close to you acknowledge that it actually was about her / him.
Mentally, we refuse to accept that it has to do with real people, it is only something to make news.
But someone has to open the eyes of humanity and if that has to be me . . . then so will be.
Because I personally know about MANY who have even more sever experiences than me, but . . . . Don’t dear to talk about it.
Some of them, I tell about in my second book.
Even in this blog I have written about several cases of other people.
I also read other blogs that contains stories “beyond this world”. But it is true stories, I know because I can relate.
Get out of your bobble, BBC. It happens fare worse things around than sitting starving under a tree, or get killed in a war.
The purpose of the book is to shout out to all who are / have been in similar situations as me: “YOU ARE NOT ALONE! ! ! ! !”

To you BBC : “You don’t have to believe it, What you believe does not change the truth a fuck’n bit. If you believe it is fiction, well, read the book as fiction then. In that case . . . It at least is a good story.”

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

BBC: By the way, I read a blog where the owner of the blog had posted a pic of her brother. Her brother lookes SO much alike Hermit, from my book, so I immediately contactet the owner of the blog and asked if her brother is called "Hermit" ... And she confirmed it. I told her about "my" Hermit and she will ask him next time she sees him.
I'm waiting ... There I even maybe have yet another witness to the truth.

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

BBC: You ask: "Where was husband and kids when all this supposedly was going on?"

ON EVERY PAGE OF THE BOOK .... I AM ASKING THE SAME QUESTION.
Who take care of MY children.
Please READ the book, not only act as IF you have read it.

Lexcen said...

Kirsten, I found the incidents in your book incredible and many times impossible to comprehend. I don't expect you to provide answers, and I accept things as you describe them. Sometimes I felt there was an alternative reality, an alternative version of events but that is just my grappling with what is beyond my personal experience and understanding. I do believe there are rational explanations but I'm not expecting them from somebody who has been at the receiving end of these experiences. Too bizarre, too horrific, too weird to say the least.
I guess the world is full of people like BBC and it's no surprise to read his comments. I just find it irritating that if he doesn't like what you're saying or doesn't believe you, then why does he still linger around like a bad smell?

Kirsten N. Namskau said...

Lexcen: Thank you for your comment.

You know ... Last year I reported a case in Denmark, about a woman that also is used as surrogate-mother without her accept.
Her case is even worse than mine, but I know I was heard in my trial of reporting it. I only hope I have been able to help her out of it. (The case is still going on, I think.)

Infinitesimal said...

i believe you.

if hammer likes your book, i bet i will too. i will buy it.