We have experienced many
difficult and uncomfortable things here in Tanzania. Sights that stay with you
for weeks, reappear in your dreams. Smells that linger on your clothes. Buhangija
was probably the hardest yet.
While our families were over for Christmas, we visited AICT’s hospital and health training centre, their schools and college and a local agricultural project. On their last day, our local partner suggested a visit to Shinyanga’s ‘Albino Centre’. Not knowing what we’d find, we expected an education or support facility.
Nothing could have prepared us for what lay at the end of the bumpy drive down an unmarked road. Ahead of us, three metre high walls topped with barbed wire and enormous gates refused us entry. We sat in silence as conversations were had with security staff and phone calls were made to allow us access to the compound. Our hearts sank as we realised that this was no education centre but essentially a prison. A safe house where scared parents leave their children hoping that here they will be safe.
People with albinism are particularly at risk in Tanzania. There is a belief, promoted and exploited primarily by witch doctors, that certain body parts of albinistic people can transmit magical powers. Potions made from their bodies are believed to bring good luck and wealth to the user. Body parts taken from live victims are thought to have even more value, their screams adding to the power of the magic. As a result, children are particularly vulnerable. In other communities, people with albinism have been ostracised and even murdered, their white skin presumed to be cursed and bring bad luck.
Tanzania has the highest
proportion of albino births in the world. Estimates vary but it is thought that
1 in 1400 babies here are born with albinism, compared to less than 1 in 20,000
in Europe. Albinism is an inherited condition characterised by a lack of
melanin, the pigment that normally gives colour to the skin, hair and eyes.
This makes sufferers vulnerable to the sun and bright lights and almost all
experience poor eyesight and are prone to skin cancer.
More than 70 people with albinism have been killed over the last three years in Tanzania. Campaigners say that despite this, there have only been 10 convictions for murder. It is thought such incidents are on the rise but the plight of albinos in Tanzania has also garnered international attention– see this BBC report from last month or this one from the Guardian.
We were only in the centre for half an hour, if that. We were asked to make a short speech for the 300, hat covered heads looking at us. The children were bored and a tiny boy sitting in front of us fell asleep, nearly falling out of his chair. The centre’s headmaster introduced us and then explained in front of the assembled children that security was tight because they would be ‘hunted like animals’ if they went outside.
Buhangija is home to nearly 300 children who are blind, deaf or have albinism. The government only provides for the blind leaving 200 children unfunded. There are not enough beds, medicine, clothes or food. The children are living in abject poverty hiding in fear from the eyes of their community.
In the past week, we have got to know Claire, an American who is working with these abandoned children in the centre. She told us that nearly every day people call in to ‘look’ at the albinos. They bring small, token gifts of rice and speak words the children don’t understand. In reality, we had accidentally confirmed to these children that they were an exhibition. Something to be looked at, and probably forgotten.
So we have decided not to forget. We will visit. We will hold hands, play games, paint pictures, bandage cuts, raise money, fix tanks, draw hopscotch, cry, pray and laugh. There are 300 children living in a fenced compound only three miles from our house. 300 children who have little access to education. 300 children who have been abandoned and who believe that their lives would be at risk by simply going outside.
Some sights won’t leave your head. Some faces linger.
While our families were over for Christmas, we visited AICT’s hospital and health training centre, their schools and college and a local agricultural project. On their last day, our local partner suggested a visit to Shinyanga’s ‘Albino Centre’. Not knowing what we’d find, we expected an education or support facility.
Nothing could have prepared us for what lay at the end of the bumpy drive down an unmarked road. Ahead of us, three metre high walls topped with barbed wire and enormous gates refused us entry. We sat in silence as conversations were had with security staff and phone calls were made to allow us access to the compound. Our hearts sank as we realised that this was no education centre but essentially a prison. A safe house where scared parents leave their children hoping that here they will be safe.
People with albinism are particularly at risk in Tanzania. There is a belief, promoted and exploited primarily by witch doctors, that certain body parts of albinistic people can transmit magical powers. Potions made from their bodies are believed to bring good luck and wealth to the user. Body parts taken from live victims are thought to have even more value, their screams adding to the power of the magic. As a result, children are particularly vulnerable. In other communities, people with albinism have been ostracised and even murdered, their white skin presumed to be cursed and bring bad luck.
 |
| from National Geographic, article here |
More than 70 people with albinism have been killed over the last three years in Tanzania. Campaigners say that despite this, there have only been 10 convictions for murder. It is thought such incidents are on the rise but the plight of albinos in Tanzania has also garnered international attention– see this BBC report from last month or this one from the Guardian.
We were only in the centre for half an hour, if that. We were asked to make a short speech for the 300, hat covered heads looking at us. The children were bored and a tiny boy sitting in front of us fell asleep, nearly falling out of his chair. The centre’s headmaster introduced us and then explained in front of the assembled children that security was tight because they would be ‘hunted like animals’ if they went outside.
Buhangija is home to nearly 300 children who are blind, deaf or have albinism. The government only provides for the blind leaving 200 children unfunded. There are not enough beds, medicine, clothes or food. The children are living in abject poverty hiding in fear from the eyes of their community.
In the past week, we have got to know Claire, an American who is working with these abandoned children in the centre. She told us that nearly every day people call in to ‘look’ at the albinos. They bring small, token gifts of rice and speak words the children don’t understand. In reality, we had accidentally confirmed to these children that they were an exhibition. Something to be looked at, and probably forgotten.
So we have decided not to forget. We will visit. We will hold hands, play games, paint pictures, bandage cuts, raise money, fix tanks, draw hopscotch, cry, pray and laugh. There are 300 children living in a fenced compound only three miles from our house. 300 children who have little access to education. 300 children who have been abandoned and who believe that their lives would be at risk by simply going outside.
Some sights won’t leave your head. Some faces linger.
No comments:
Post a Comment