THE BUSINESSMAN

- Charles -

By Standing Voice

August 21^st, 2019

I was born in the village of Muturunguru in 1959 in a family of 7 children. My father had 12 children in total, from two different wives. My older brother and I were the only ones with albinism in the family and in our community. He died when I was 14.

When I was growing up, my parents were always together. Being born with albinism was not seen as a bad thing in my family. My parents weren’t shocked that I had albinism, but growing up in the community was difficult. I used to go play outside and the children were scared of me, they would run away; that’s just how life was. Being isolated was painful for me. The only time I was happy was when I was at home with my family. I was very close to them and as soon as I was out of the house, the situation was very hard.

Because of my albinism, people considered me not to be human. My family couldn’t visit our relatives in other villages because no one would let us travel. I was excluded from community activities.

My whole family suffered discrimination because my brother and I had white skin. People would travel from afar just to stare at us. They would pretend to be visiting relatives, or coming to do business with my father. In reality, they came to stare. My father knew the real reason they came, but he never said anything and chose not to be bothered by it. I knew too, deep down. People would speak in low voices, pointing at my brother and I. But we didn’t care: our father had bought us a bicycle, so that distracted us! We were just children. We learned how to have fun, and ignore those outsiders.

We were lucky our parents understood our needs. There was a missionary dispensary near our village. Doctors would visit us and advise our parents on how to take care of our skin and our eyes.

School was not easy. To start with, I had no friends. Other children were scared of me and didn’t want to play with me. It took nine months for them to understand I was no different to them. During this time, I was very alone and rejected, except for one teacher who was always kind to me. He used to help me in class and make me sit at the front so I could see the board. Some children were helpful too; not all of them were scared. In the end the teachers grew accustomed to me, just like my classmates did. When my teachers had no idea how to take care of me, my peers would step in to support me. Because of this, I managed to finish primary school.

After that, one of my brothers moved to Mwanza to work for the government and took me with him. He paid for me to continue my education. I started a bookkeeping course, but after six months my brother got a scholarship in Hungary and moved there. Life got worse, and with no one to help me continue my studies, I was forced to return to Muturunguru.

Back home, I spent two years at my local ginnery, producing cotton for the village. Eventually I accumulated enough capital to start my own business. Buying and selling tomatoes and small fish, I set up my own shop. Later on, I got married, and now I have five children.

You could say that I knew about Standing Voice before it even existed. In a way, I’m a founder! I was one of the first people Harry met on Ukerewe, when he was learning about our stories and trying to find a way to help. It was from those experiences and interactions that Standing Voice was born.

The charity has since supported me with capital to help my business grow. I’m so grateful for their support, and their belief in my ability to succeed. Their latest project, the Summer Skills Workshop, has helped me to develop my tailoring skills, adding another dimension to my business. I already have some sewing machines at home. Now, with my new knowledge, I can sew hats, pillowcases and bed sheets that I can sell. Perhaps, together, the other tailors and I can build an enterprise that will create many more possibilities for all of us.

I can’t say for sure what the future holds, but I know I’m committed to finding success. At heart, I’m a businessman with ambition. And I’m proud I came this far.