My parents passed away when I was young.
I don’t even remember when they died.
I was raised by my grandfather in the Geita region of Tanzania, before he died in 2014. The village was a dangerous place for a person with albinism. The villagers believed I was cursed, insulting me with names like zeru-zeru (sub-human). They told me I was nothing.
My grandfather said it was pointless sending me to school: because of my albinism, I wouldn’t achieve anything anyway.
For a while, I worried he was right. My teachers had no idea how to support me. They refused to lend me books when I wanted to practise at home, and ignored me when I shouted for help because I couldn’t see the blackboard. My fellow students didn’t understand me either. When I moved closer to the blackboard to try and read, they became frustrated and told me not to obscure their view. When I asked for help with reading, they deliberately misread what was on the board so they could laugh at me.
Despite my best efforts, these challenges meant I did badly in my school examinations.
I was determined to complete my studies and struggled through seven years at school. I worked on a farm to pay for my uniform and support myself.
When I was 21 or 22, after an outbreak of killings of people with albinism, I left my home village in search of refuge. Fearing for my safety, I came to the police station in Mwanza, where I slept outside on benches for three months.
Eventually I was able to leave the police station and move into a house after a Tanzanian charity supported me with money for my rent. I stayed there for quite some time until the charity ceased to support me.
Once again, I had to survive on my own.
Joining the Tanzania Albinism Society made me feel human again. For the first time, I was told I was not different from other people and had rights like anyone else. I started to believe I could achieve what other people could achieve.
This year, I attended the Summer Skills tailoring workshop to learn how to produce hats. I wanted the skills to make a product for my fellow people with albinism; to have a hat like the ones we are making you need to pay a lot of money – almost $7.50 – and with these skills Standing Voice has made it much more accessible.
I am hopeful for the future and my dream of becoming a successful businessman. But, even today, I don’t know whether I’m safe.
It’s impossible to say.
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