Did barry admit he has no documentation to prove who his father was?

November 18, 2009

Updated birth certificate posts/videos/lawsuits

I ran across a few interesting lines in barry’s book “Dreams” when I was looking for his account of meeting his half-brother Mark, who he met up with in Beijing.

barry admits to going home to Hawaii the summer before he left for good, he mentions having a passport and of course his birth certificate and his reluctance to discover the particulars of his parent’s marriage.

He also talks about the Old Man’s (barry sr’s) inheritance and quotes his half-sister Auma saying: “ So of all the Old Man’s kids, Mark’s claim is the only one that’s uncontested” because his mother, Ruth “has all the necessary documents to prove who his father was“.

barry was eligible for the Old Man’s inheritance. So according to this, his mother did not have the necessary documents to prove barry sr was barry’s father.

So what name is on barry’s “vital records”?

barry sr wives:
1-Kezia – Auma
2-Ann – barry
3-Ruth – Mark

Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance
© Barack Obama 1995, 2004
Crown Publishing (Random House)

Excerpts from Google books.

barry’s fear of finding out the particulars of his parent’s marriage – along with the mention of his typical white person grandfather’s racism. barry has all these thoughts and yet he never once asks what they are truly thinking. Why? Because he would find that their true thoughts didn’t match his racial angst?

In fact how the marriage occurred remains a bit murky, a bill of particulars that I’ve never quite had the courage to explore.

Courage = truth.

His admission that he had a copy of his birth certificate.

(page 41)

Curious isn’t it? His father’s imperious manner and the editor may have been the reason why barry sr neglected to mention he had a wife and child in Hawaii. He also neglected to inquire about barry jr when Neil Abercrombie met up with sr in Africa: “To Abercrombie’s surprise, Obama never asked about his ex-wife or his son.”

So was he really barry’s father?

Funny how barry never mentioned barry sr’s [byline: Barak H. Obama] 8 page essay on Problems Facing Our Socialism.

And here, on return from Indonesia, barry says he’s an American and had a passport. He also writes that he returned from Indonesia the summer before he returned for good. Two more trips stamped on a passport somewhere.

And a curious remark by barry’s mother at his wedding that leaves one wondering what the other half was.

(page 440)

Upon meeting Ruth in Kenya, barry was asked about his last name:

Why didn’t he answer the question?

And what would he have answered?

This next excerpt is about the inheritance. It follows barry’s meeting with his half-brother Mark in Kenya. He was speaking with Auma and the quote is hers.

(page 345)

So of all the Old Man’s kids, Mark’s claim is the only one that’s uncontested.

Wouldn’t barry be one of those children who had a possible claim?

The answer is yes.

The one with everything?

Lawyers in Kenya know who barry sr’s children are…is barry one of them in the eyes of Kenyan law? Was he a Kenyan citizen at that time?

And what does Mark know about barry’s parentage?

He has already written his autobiography and reportedly shopping it around for a publisher. One wonders if he had to amend a few things about barry.

Tags: barack obama birth certificate, BARACK OBAMA SR, barry soetoro, Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, Mark Okoth Obama Ndesandjo, obama relatives, president obama, Ruth Nidesand,

“Dreams” excerpt re: barry’s brother Mark

November 18, 2009

barry meets with Mark and his wife in Beijing

barry’s encounter with half-brother Mark Okoth Obama Ndesandjo in Kenya. They have the same father – barry Sr aka “Old Man”. Ruth, of Jewish-Lithuanian descent, is Mark’s mother.

barry’s family tree

Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance
© Barack Obama 1995, 2004
Crown Publishing (Random House)
From Google books
Pages 339 – 344

Relevant conversation page 343-345

The following week, I called Mark and suggested that we go out to lunch. He seemed a bit hesitant, but eventually agreed to meet at an Indian restaurant downtown. He was more relaxed than he had been during our first meeting, making a few self-deprecatory jokes, offering his onservations about California and academic infighting. As the meal wore on, I asked him how it felt being back for the summer.

“Fine,” he said. “It’s nice to see my mom and dad, of course. And Joey–he’s a really geat kid.” Mark cut off a bite of his samosa and put it into his mouth. “As for the rest of Kenya, I don’t feel much of an attachment. Just another poor African country.”

“You don’t ever think about settling here?”

Mark took a sip from his Coke, “No,” he said. I mean there’s not much work for a physicist, is there, in a country where the average person doesn’t have a telephone.”

I should have stopped then, but something — the certainty in this brother’s voice, maybe, or our rough resemblance, like looking into a foggy mirror — made me want to push harder. I asked, “Don’t you ever feel like you might be losing something?”

Mark put down his knife and fork, and for the first time that afternoon his eyes looked straight into mine.

‘I understand what you’re getting at,’ he said flatly. ‘You think that somehow I’m cut off from my roots, that sort of thing.’ He wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin onto his plate. ‘Well, you’re right. At a certain point, I made a decision not think about who my real father was. He was dead to me even when he was still alive. I knew that he was a drunk and showed no concern for his wife or children. That was enough.’

‘It made you mad.’

‘Not mad. Just numb.’

‘And that doesn’t bother you? Being numb, I mean?’

‘Towards him, no. Other things move me. Beethoven’s symphonies. Shakespeare’s sonnets. I know — it’s not what an African is supposed to care about. But who’s to tell me what I should and shouldn’t care about? Understand, I’m not ashamed of being half Kenyan. I just don’t ask myself a lot of questions about what it all means. About who I really am.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I should. I can acknowledge the possibility that if looked more carefully at myself, I would …’

For the briefest moment I sensed Mark hesitate, like a rock climber losing his footing. Then, almost immediately, he regained his composure and waved for the check.

‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘What’s certain is that I don’t need the stress. Life’s hard enough without all that excess baggage.’

We stood up to leave, and I insisted on paying the bill. Outside we exchanged addresses and promised to write, with a dishonesty that made my heart ache.

Continues with page 345.

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