Raised in Scotland but adopted from El Jadida months after being abandoned, Rachid Aboulfadl Mourini has been relentlessly searching for his biological parents for the past five years, without any concrete results. Now 36, he continues to multiply appeals and pursue every possible lead, despite the hurdles and the emotional rollercoaster. DR ‹ › On January 4, 2008, just weeks before his 18th birthday, Rachid read a letter from his mother. It contained the hardest words he had ever faced. He «cried and ran out of the house», not knowing where he was going. Learning that he was adopted, so close to adulthood, was something he had never anticipated. Born in Morocco to parents he had never known, Rachid was overwhelmed by «anger, sadness, shock, and depression». That day, he sat on a wall and cried until exhaustion. He stayed confined to his room for two days before deciding to return to Scotland, where he had been raised by his adoptive parents, a Moroccan father and an English mother. «Everything changed», Rachid Aboulfadl Mourini, later known as Ryan Anderson, told Yabiladi during a candid conversation. He abandoned plans to attend university, left his parents' home, and was forced to rebuild his life from scratch. «I needed somewhere to live and bills to pay. I worked office jobs, then as a forklift driver», he recalled. From Scotland to Spain, Rachid spent years running from a truth he had discovered too late. He kept his adoption secret from friends and anyone outside his adoptive family, carrying a deep sense of shame. A childhood story full of unanswered questions It was only in 2020, after 12 years of silence and denial, that Rachid decided to confront the pain and search for his biological family. «Covid made me think about life», he said. «That's when I decided to come back to Morocco». Now nearly 36, Rachid is still relentlessly searching. Over the past five years, he has made repeated trips to El Jadida, where he was abandoned as a three-month-old baby, hoping to find his mother, his father, siblings, cousins, any trace of family. Rachid was adopted in the 1990s from an orphanage near the old Mohammed V Hospital in El Jadida. «My adoptive mother lived in El Jadida at the time and wanted to adopt. She followed the legal kafala process, paid all the paperwork, attended every meeting, and after six months, she was allowed to choose a baby», he explained. There were 12 babies. One of them was Rachid. «She chose me because my eyes followed her», he said. Because the paperwork took longer than expected, Rachid could not leave immediately for Scotland with his new family and instead spent several months with a foster family. That is the story he is sure of. Since deciding to actively look for his biological parents, he has been confronted with countless, and often contradictory, versions of his own story. «Some say my mother wasn't from El Jadida, that she came from another town and left quietly. Others say I was found on the street. Others say I was born in the hospital». A relentless quest Since 2021, Rachid has repeatedly paused his removals business in Scotland to return to El Jadida and search. He followed every lead, spoke to anyone he thought might help, and shared his story with media and television and through social media. «The first time I came back, I went straight to El Jadida, went to the hospital, the courts, the registry office, everywhere», he said. «Each place sent me somewhere else». At one point, he was told that a woman named Amina, who had worked at the hospital and orphanage, knew everything. «They said she remembered every mother», he said quietly. «But she passed away». Hospital records later suggested he could be the child of «six women who gave birth on the same day». But that possibility brought no clarity. «If I was born at home or on the street, then none of those women would be my mother», he explained. Adding to the confusion is his birth date. «First it was February, then May, then February again. That inconsistency blocked everything». «They all told me the same thing: 'Your parents are unknown,' and they can't give me names without a court order», which he says requires a lawyer, translation, and time he can't afford while living in Scotland and running a business. During his next visit to Morocco, planned for April, Rachid intends this time to get a lawyer and pursue one remaining lead: the name Aboulfadl, which appeared on his initial birth certificate before adoption. «A friend of my adoptive father, who cared for me for three months while my parents returned to Scotland to fix paperwork, told me this could be my father's name», he said. Between hope, fear, and resilience But the search has been exhausting emotionally, financially, and mentally. «Many people contacted me claiming to be my mother. DNA tests proved they weren't», he said. «It was devastating». In another case, a man claimed to be his uncle. «We did a DNA test. It came back negative». DNA testing itself is another obstacle. «In the UK, it's simple, you pay, and you do it. In Morocco, it requires court approval», he explained. Tests conducted abroad took months, stretching an already painful process. Despite everything, Rachid remains determined. «Some days, being adopted weighs heavily on my mind; other days, I manage to forget», he said. «Searching for my family can be exciting, but it's also frightening. They might hug me and say they love me, or they might reject me and walk away». Some people have even advised him to stop searching, to return to the UK, and «not disturb a family that may have moved on». But Rachid refuses to let go. «I try to stay positive. Maybe someone out there in Morocco knows who my family is». «Even if I never find them», he said, «I will always remember the people who treated me kindly and tried to help me, those who told me, 'We are your family'».
