I was five when my parents died. I can only remember little things about them. My siblings used to tell me stories about my parents, how they taught us to look after our skin by always wearing sunhats and sunscreen. My parents both had albinism, so my siblings and I all inherited the condition too. They both died of skin cancer. Afterwards, it was a big challenge for me and my siblings because the stigma was very big in Tabora, where we lived. My uncle took responsibility for taking care of us after our parents’ death. My uncle was essentially a good person but he wasn’t interested in helping me and my siblings. He told us we were useless, and that we were only good enough to look after the cows and the goats. He wouldn’t let us go to school, saying that he didn’t want to waste his money on us. When I was seven years old, I decided to run away, to see if I could find a way to learn to read and write myself.
I went to live in Tabora as a street kid. Living on the streets was very tough. There were many challenges. I met a lot of people and made a lot of friends. However, not everyone I met was good to me. I experienced a lot of stigma because of my albinism. I was called very bad names and had all kinds of bad experiences. There were lots of other children living on the streets, some of whom knew how to read and write, and they taught me how. I was very excited to know how to read and write before going to school.
Luckily, I was found by a man called Eloy Grandin, who took me to the Missionaries of Charity in Tabora. When I attended school, there was only one other pupil with albinism. I experienced a lot of bullying. Children would take off my sunhat and run away with it. Some threw stones. All the time, I had to encourage myself, and tell myself that, despite the cruelty, I was a good person. I wasn’t going to hurt anybody, I loved my friends. The children bullying me didn’t understand how they were making me feel. I asked them, “Why are you doing this? I am just like you, and I treat you very well.” Two of my teachers tried to help, but the rest were less understanding; most didn’t even know what albinism was. Because of my vision problems, I found it very difficult to see the board in class. I would ask my teachers for written notes to help me catch up, but they very rarely agreed. They treated me the same as the other pupils, making me stand outside in the sun for roll call. When I told them I was getting sunburnt, they told me I couldn’t go inside because I was a pupil like the others. The maltreatment I suffered was very painful, physically and mentally.
By the time I finished primary school, I was already singing in festivals, concerts and competitions. During my time living on the streets, the rastafarians had been very kind to me, making sure I had clothes and food. I found myself getting interested in rastafarianism and listening to reggae musicians like Bob Marley, Alpha Blondy, and King Yellowman. That was my inspiration. Later, at the missionary, we used to sing in church. I really liked singing. I tried very hard to learn how to sing better. Singing was a way of telling the world what I was going through. Now I am a professional musician, I want to represent other people who are on the outside, who want to say something but never get the chance to. I want to be a voice for the voiceless.
I want to be a voice for the voiceless.
Making a living from my music is very difficult. In my country, reggae is not recognised as commercial music. They don’t sell it much, and nowadays everyone likes party music with upbeat lyrics. Some people donate some money to help me, but it’s hard to find the money to buy instruments, and the other equipment I need. Slowly, I am becoming more and more popular. I now have fans in countries across Africa, and on other continents, and in 2015 I released a single and music video called Mbilimbi (‘home,’ in English). I have travelled to Sweden, England, Belgium and even Peru to make music. But I don’t make music to make money. Many of my concerts are free because I want people to understand the message in my music. I have dedicated my music and career to awareness and activism.
I want to use my music to fight back against the injustices happening in society. Reggae music is my weapon.
I first heard about Standing Voice through my good friend Peter Ogik, president of The Source of the Nile Union of Persons with Albinism in Uganda. I went to see Peter for a musical collaboration, but during the trip I met Jon Beale, Standing Voice’s Managing Director.
The meeting with Jon was a miracle; everything began there.
Jon asked me to take part in Standing Voice’s creative advocacy workshops in Bagamoyo and on Ukerewe Island. During the workshops, I helped create a storyline around the fictional experiences of a man with albinism, which we performed in the community using music and dance. People in the audience shouted out their feelings about what was happening to the man. Some people thought he deserved a fair chance, others thought he deserved to be ignored. Eventually, more and more people began to support him. I found the workshops very interesting. I learnt that albinism is just a condition; it is not a disability. Before, my knowledge of albinism was not deep, but now I know that my genes have caused my albinism, not witchcraft or a curse like many people believe. It was fantastic to see how the community was transformed by our performance. After we had explained to the audience what happened to the genes of people with albinism, it was a lot easier to convince them that they had no reason to be scared of us.
When I developed a tumour on my left ear, it was Standing Voice who helped me get the treatment I needed. I tried to get it removed four times, but it was difficult to find a doctor because of money, until Standing Voice arranged for me to have surgery to remove it. I am very grateful for their work, which helps people like me to continue living happily and healthily.
I would like to send a message to all people with albinism, telling them to have a dream. If you have a dream, you just have a way. You have to follow your dream. Do not give up. Be passionate. I have been very lucky and I have used my voice to represent my fellow artists. But I need other musicians in Tanzania to be engaged in activism with me. People with albinism really want to educate themselves and express themselves. They really want to raise their voice. Things are changing slowly for people with albinism in Tanzania. Some years ago, it was difficult for marginalised people to come together, but we have unity now. I see a bright future.
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