Sharing Breastmilk & Creating Family

Wet nursing is now uncommon in the West, but can be found many in other cultures. Many Cocos Malay women have breastfeed someone else's biological child, making that child into part of their family. This creation of family through shared milk contrasts with Western ideas that family comes from sharing the same 'blood'. Instead of wet nurse, I'll just call them breastfeeding mothers. 

Breastfeeding motherhood

Breastfeeding motherhood is almost intertwined with adoption for Cocos Malays. However, for the purposes of analysis, I'll keep them separate here. Here are some biographical notes Monika and  I collected from people who have a 'breast-feeding mother':

• Mak Dem told me she found out, as a child, that she had a 'breast-feeding mother'. After giving birth, her biological mother had health problems and was taken to West Island for medical care. So another woman had breast-feed Mak Dem. After Mak Dem found out about this, she began addressing her breastfeeding mother simply as 'mum' (Mak); similarly she calls her breast-feeding mother's husband 'dad' (Pak). She does not use the she would normally use for an adult--other people would address the couple as Nek Zal. Put another way, this husband and wife are related to Mak Dem because of the breast milk the wife shared.

• Mak Mae is a mother whose baby, Mae, has two breastfeeding mothers. Mak Mae is a Cocos Malay woman who has moved to Home Island from the Cocos Malay community in Katanning. Before she moved, she gave birth to her daughter Maesha. When Mak Mae started working in Katanning, another Cocos Malay woman offered to breast feed Maesha. Although the two women had gone to high-school together in Katanning they hadn't been so close. Mak Mae said she initially she was taken aback by the request, but she agreed. As a result, the two mothers (biological and breast) became very close. Maesha also considers the breast-feeding mother with deep affection, Mak Mae told me. So the breastfeeding brought these 3 people (birth mother, breast-feeding mother, and child) into a close bond. 

• Mrs Nek Sofia told me that her breast-feeding mother already had a biological son. Nevertheless, she wanted a daughter. So she asked Mrs Nek Sofia's biological mother if it would be alright to breastfeed Mrs Nek Sofia. Mrs Nek Sofia's mother acquiesced. Mrs Nek Sofia's husband said that Mrs Nek Sofia was, in effect 'adopted' by the breast-feeding mother. Mrs Nek Sofia agreed with this when I asked her. I'll discuss adoption more in a subsequent blog.

Milk siblings:
Mr Nek Sumila & Nek Ramdan 

• Aini / Mak Sofia. Nek Sofia told us that her next-door neighbour, and sister-in-law, Nek Kelem asked if she could breastfeed Aini. Nek Sofia agreed. Nek Sofia said it was always impromptu, based on when Nek Kelem wanted to breastfeed the Aini (presumably when her breasts were full). Aini's grandparents, Nek Sofia's biological parents, also looked after her. So Nek Kelem just came in to breast feed, more than to look after Aini for extended periods. Aini would also sleep at Nek Kelem's house.

• Nek Arena, an imam (Islamic preacher/scholar) told me he is a 'breast-feeding or breast-milk father' (bapak susu). His wife had breastfed Ayesha the biological child of Haji Hajat; Ayesha calls Nek Arena "bapak" or father. "It's a very strong bond," he added, between the breastfed child and Nek Arena, his wife, their children and grandchildren.

• Nek Ramdan said that she has a milk brother. Her mum breastfed Nek Sumila. Nek Sumila is also her mother's anak angkat; because he was dibuang by the Mokta family. He lived with Nek Ramdan's family and, importantly, got married at their house (i.e. the groom's part of the wedding celebrations were held at his house). 

Local understandings

These actual stories contrast with the theories people have about breastfeeding.

• Nek Arena also had an interesting take on breast-feeding mothers. He explained that the bond with a breast-feeding mother is stronger than just with an adopted child [but I think it depends on the scale of adoption]. If you only feed off a breast once or twice, then you're not a breastfed child. More than that three times, then you can be accepted as breastfed child. 
• Nek Rezeki (Bujang/Bohari's mum and Kylie's mother in law) said that tak boleh breastfeed someone else's child, according to hukum agama. Also she said that because we now have 'susu kaleng' it's not necessary to breastfeed another's child "dulu tak ada susu kaleng". Nek Rezeki has seven kids which explains why . "Kita tak tahu dulu".

I'm not sure if these opinions are widespread, but I never heard anyone else mention them. 

Cultural and social context

Stories like this are common in the Indonesian-Malay world, where you frequently meet people who have family through breastfeeding. In other words, breastfeeding can be seen as creating family; in the same way that Westerners are familiar with the idea of marriage and giving birth as creating family. Cocos Malays we spoke with emphasised the bond and the connection with he breastfeeding parents and milk siblings. How can we compare this to prevailing Western attitudes?

Finding children delightful

Delight in raising children

First, Cocos Malays view raising children differently. Raising children is idealised as a delight. Children are thought to be a blessing; parenthood (and, perhaps, grandparenthood) is possibly the greatest achieved status. Not having children is 'bored at home' (boring di rumah) in the words of Nek Shah. (This reminds of my fieldwork location in Java, where not being a parent leaves a person lonely (kesepian); being childless is something to be pitied (kasihan).) The attitude is slightly different to the Western approach; it tends to be indulgent of children. Perhaps it would be too imprecise and generalised to say that in the West raising children is viewed as a bit of a chore for which the child should be grateful; among the Cocos Malays raising children is a godsend for which the parent should be grateful. This might help explain why some lactating women seek to breastfeed other children.

Responsibility for raising children

Another reason is a sense of collective responsibility for children. As Cocos Malays see it, children aren't just their biological parents' responsibility. This is exemplified in the way the mothers and sometimes the father who attend the local playgroup and better beginnings program at the school would collectively look after the young children and babies, passing them around and taking care of them. Maybe the reason for this collective parenting is because they are all related. Yet, I think it is more than just that. In the Indonesian village where I undertook fieldwork the collective parenting much more pronounced and not confined to relatives. As another example, one local gentleman seemed to have a very low opinion of me. I was still unable to engage him in so much as a nod when we were in other's presence. One day I was inside and didn't notice my child quietly crying outside. The man took time, and not in a condescending or aggravated manner, to let me know. It was, as far as I could tell, merely out of concern for my child; and I am grateful to him for that. It did not mark the beginning of friendly relations between us; nothing really changed. Whatever he thought of me, he still looked out for my child in a caring fashion. This sense of collective responsibility may also contribute to understanding the sharing of breastmilk.

Breastmilk means something different

Another important factor pertains to the meaning of breast milk. Human breast milk obtains different significance in different cultures. For the Cocos Malays, sharing it with another person's biological child remains deeply meaningful. Nek Arena told me of a special prayer for the mother who provides breast milk; it is a "doa memulangkan air susu" . In that prayer, to paraphrase him, what we sucked from our mother we want to return to her. This prayer is also used for the breast-feeding mother. But it signifies the relationship continues on to the hereafter (akherat). Nek Sofia said susu is like blood; it makes you family. Shana said that the susu is more important than blood; it nourishes you, gives you life. English speakers use the expression 'blood is thicker than water' to emphasise the closeness of kin; we could say for the Cocos Malays that 'milk is thicker than water'.

Still taken from Mead's video, showing a mother breastfeeding another child, while her own child remonstrates

Bateson and Mead misunderstood Balinese breastfeeding. 

Controversial anthropologists, Gregory Bateson and Margaret Mead made a video showing Balinese mothers teasing their biological children by breast feeding the children of other mothers. Implicitly drawing on Freud, Bateson & Mead interpret the Balinese mothers as intensifying the attachment with their biological child and encouraging sibling rivalry. I think the opposite. I Balinese adults punish inappropriate behaviour in children by teasing and laughing at them. The mothers are simply teaching children Balinese values, such as 'you need to control your temper'; 'you cannot be possessive or jealous of your mother'. They are also showing kindness and neighbourliness by breastfeeding someone else's biological baby. I think Bateson and Mead couldn't see all this because they assumed that the mother would 'naturally' feed her own biological child.

Westerners tend to assume a natural breastfeeding connection between mother and biological son.  Breastfeeding is thought to be a deeply personal, unique, and at the same time natural, bond between biological mother and child.Bateson & Mead assume that the biological mother will breastfeed child--an assumption built in to Freud's theories The idea that the biological mother should be the breastfeeder. Even the pro-breastfeeding, quasi-feminist pamphlets seem to rely on this value, which Marxists like Habermas would understand as a bourgeois family value. However, to understand the breastfeeding mothers in Cocos Malay perspective, maybe it is more useful to think that any lactating woman could be the breastfeeder.

Westerners idealise breastfeeding as a natural connection between mother and her biological daughter.

Translating "Mak Susu" & "Mak Tetek"

Cocos Malays have two terms for what we have translated as breastfeeding mother--mak susu and mak tetek. I have been cautioned to use, when speaking Cocos Malay the polite term "mak susu". "Mak" means mother or mum. As in English, it is a form of address (e.g. "Mum, can I have a present?") and reference (e.g. "Where does your mum live"?). "Susu" presents more of a problem, meaning "breast"; "milk"; and "breast milk".  However, the common, and coarse,  term for breastfeeding mother is "mak tetek" . "Tetek" can mean "boob", "tit", and "nipple". In Indonesian, influenced presumably by Javanese, "netek" means to suckle, but we have not heard this verb used on Home Island. One woman explained to me in mixed Malay-English, a Mak Susu is "when you isap another person's tetek".

Translating 'mak susu'

People in English-speaking cultures are familiar with the idea of a 'wet nurse'. A wet nurse is a woman who, for a variety of reasons, was employed to breastfeed another person's child. A number of Cocos Malays we met were breastfed by a woman (or two!) aside from their own biological mother. In Cocos Malay, these people are referred to as "mak susu" (a politer term) or "mak tetek" (coarser). To translate, instead of 'wet nurse', I'll use the word "breastfeeding mother" (although  "milk mother" might have been more accurate). The term for husband of the breastfeeding mother is, "pak susu", which I'll translate as "breastfeeding father" (similarly "milk father" might have been better here) . The biological children of these people I will call, following the anthropological tradition, milk siblings (they are 'milk brothers' and 'milk sisters').

• "diambe" is a word that often comes up
• Nek Ramdan is a Mak Tetek to Pak Izahan. Pak Izahan is a twin. 

Different kinds of parents

In my culture, you can expand your family by marrying or sexually reproducing. Cocos Malays also use other ways.

Different forms of parenting

Aside from 'biological' parents, Cocos Malays recognise three other common 'relatives' who look after children: breastfeeding parents (that is a wet nurse and her husband); adopted parents; and grandparents. Nenek's personal experiences of child-rearing incorporate all three. As she related to Monika, she has six biological children (3 shared with other mothers) and one 'milk son':

• The milk son. Nenek said she had breastfed (i.e. wet nursed) another woman's biological son. The boy's mother requested because she did not produce enough milk, her "body was infertile" (tubuh tidak subur). The boy's grandparent and Nenek 's father are siblings. Nenek explained that the boy "is my son and I'm his mak susu" (wet nurse, milk mother). This sense of "son" and "mother" has a literal dimension. The boy could not marry any of Nenek's biological daughters because the daughters were, effectively, the boy's siblings. Anthropologists would say that the daughters are the boy's 'milk siblings'.
• The adopted daughter. A local Cocos couple who had one son and no daughter asked if they could adopt one of Nenek's daughters. Nenek consented. This daughter would spend most of her time at her adopted parent's house but would go home to her biological parents house to sleep at night. The adopted parents had hoped by having Nenek's daughter as an adopted child they would be blessed with another child. 8 years later they had their own biological daughter.  The adopted parents still play a role in Nenek's daughter's life as an adult and they remain close. 
• Another adopted daughter. Nenek has another daughter. She was adopted by Nenek's niece. The niece had been married for a long time but didn't have a child, so the niece adopted Nenek's daughter.  Now this daughter has two sons and a daughter; Nenek's niece is considered their grandmother and take oldest son's name (see my blog on teknonyms). When we arrived in 2016, the two mothers (biological and adopting) were waving goodbye to their daughter and grand-daughter who were heading to the mainland for a short trip. 
• Adoption brings the two grandmothers together. The niece is working full-time. So the grandmothers divide up the labour of looking after the grandkids. The niece looks after the older two boys. Nenek looks after the granddaughter. Nenek explained that this granddaughter is important to her because she looked after this granddaughter since she was very young. On Tuesday when Moni was supposed to meet Nenek, Nenek cancelled because she had to help her granddaughter with her introduction day to kindergarten.
• The breastfeeding mother. When she had her youngest daughter, Nenek had the opportunity to go on the Haj (pilgrimage to Mecca). She left her daughter with her family in Cocos. While Nenek was on the Haj, her grandmother gave her daughter to another woman to be breastfed for six months (as the grandmother thought the child was still quite young). It hadn't been organised before she left; Nenek only found out when she got back.
• To summarise, Nenek has 6 biological children. 3 of them are 'shared': a daughter, who was adopted by another local couple; a daughter who was adopted by her niece; and a daughter who was breastfed by another woman while she was on the Haj. Nenek also breastfed another boy; becoming his 'milk mother'.
• As she explained it; she didn't plan it this way; it was up to Allah; it's not really up to us humans. 
• In most societies families are made through marrying people and having children. Many societies have yet other ways of making family. For the Cocos Malays, the kinds of parenting--adoption, milk parenting (wet nursing), adoption and milk grandparenting--are all common ways of caring for children and making family bonds.

In subsequent blogs, I will analyse these different kinds of parenthood in more detail.

Grandmas with their grandchildren. This is an end-of-year party for government school program. Called "Better Beginning" it is designed to prepare pre-school children for school

Anthropological Analysis

Kinship

The first thing to say is that this blog is concerned with what anthropologists call kinship. If in English we say that "my cousin Jan is related to me through my father's side"; what we mean by "related" is the object of kinship studies. Or if you say, "family is everything"; what you mean by "family" is what we study in kinship. Kinship is, in basic terms, the anthropological study of what counts as 'family' or who counts as a 'relative' different cultures. As this definition implies; every culture has a slightly different understanding of who relatives are and what family consists in. I have already discussed an aspect of kinship in another blog. In that blog, I described some of the words--teknonyms--that Cocos Malays use to explain situate a person in terms of his or her family. As this indicates, the kinship of a society can have a variety of facets. Analysing these requires putting yourself in 'their' shoes.

Putting yourself in their shoes isn't easy...

Anthropologists try to 'put themselves in other people's shoes'. We try to understand the world from another culture's point of view; we try to see the world from the perspective of people who are different from us. Doing this is daunting; even for experienced anthropologists. This is especially the case when we try to understand customs which, when viewed from within our own culture's standards, seem strange or even offensive. For example, an Indonesian anthropologist might struggle to understand the culture of 'parties'  (replete with drinking alcohol, fornication, and violence) in Australia; or putting old people in homes. Conversely an Australian anthropologist might struggle to understand 'adoption' practices in Indonesia. Both anthropologists have to get beyond their own 'natural' assumptions if they want to understand what is going on.

...so we use strategies.

If you are new to studying anthropology, it sometimes seems like your lecturers and professors took up the anthropological perspective easily. It may seem they were born thinking and the way they do. But what anthropology teaches us runs against the grain even for lecturers and professor; things we assumed to be natural turn out to be, to a large degree cultural. This notion can be intellectually and emotionally challenging. So to help deal with the challenge, anthropologists (Australian, Indonesian, or from wherever) tend to employ several strategies, in particular; reflexivity, methodological relativism, and holism.

Dusk on Home Island

Reflexivity

So here's how I would approach Cocos Malay kinship using reflexivity: I grew up in a culture where the bond between biological mother and child is thought of as natural. For instance, when I raised the topic of Cocos Malay adoption with an Anglo Australian mother, she said "if someone wanted my baby, I would be like, 'just try to get him off me'". This implies that she would do everything in her power to stop her biological baby being separated from her. Given my cultural background, this really resonated with me, so I think the attitude is common enough. Even though we talk about new families, and extended families, unconventional families etc. these seem to measured against a very clear norm. When we are not thinking like anthropologists, we assume it is 'natural' for animals, especially mothers, to protect their offspring. So adoption has many negative connotations for Westerners; the common idea is that biological family is solid, indissoluble unit--a shelter from the storm of modern society. The widespread practice of adoption and milk parents slightly breaches this Western ideal. But then, we do give our children to day care 9-5; then send them to to school. We entrust our children to teachers; sometimes to nannies and au paires. We formalise and depersonalise this through contracts and pay. The Cocos Malay have informal relationships based on lifelong care and connection, on a sense of personal obligation, gift-giving, and responsibility. When I think about it using the principle reflexivity, the kinship practices I'm describing in this an subsequent blogs, start to make more sense. Anyway, this is only one step. Principles like methodological relativism and holism will also be useful to putting oneself in the another's shoes. And though the goal of empathetic understanding remains most likely unattainable, we anthropologists hope that applying these principles will provide a solid basis from which the real business of anthropology--the analysis of cultural and social aspects of human life--can proceed.

Anyway, more about Cocos Malay kinship and anthropology in subsequent blogs.