Albinos Are Humans Too

I started to keep a scrapbookbefore age 5. I never attended kindergarten because I was very sick from birth.Mum was staying at home so she looked after me and helped with my scrapbook. There were so many magazines and newspapers in the house, so I occupied myself with tearing out and saving pictures of people in my \"None Ugly\" scrapbook.

The pictures of people in my scrapbookwere of all shapes and sizes and colors and races, even pictures of the deformed made it to my scrapbook. In my little mind, I was obsessed with the rather interesting fact that people lookedso different from each other and yet were the same species. It was wonderful to me and it aroused my curiosity, little as I was.

I began to notice, before I reached age 7, that there were two kinds of \"white\" people. To me, there were the white people who lived overseas, and then there were the black people who were born with plenty yellow or orange or a mix of both in their skin.

My mother noticed I could differentiate between the two, and that I noticed that the yellowish or orangey people were always looking sad. My mother saw that Inoticed these thingseven though I always said very little. She noticed I began to hunt for more pictures of those yellowish or orangey or peachy black people, and I would insist not to put them on a separate page but to mix them up with the normal people and put flower pictures around them to make them smile.

Little did I know that my mother's family had suffered extreme marginalization as a result of that lack of pigmentation, and that I would inevitablysuffer same once I was strong enough to start school. I didn't know what the lack of pigmentation was called, and I didn't know it was actually a condition affecting every race (not just blacks).

One day, at about age 6 gaining on 7,I saw a yellowish cockroach and I showed it to my mother.

She smiled and said, \"It's an albino cockroach. There aren't many like it. You like it?\"

I nodded excitedly. Then after chewing on it for a minute, I said to the cockroach in my innocence, \"Albino cockroach, hello. You arecockroach too, just like brown cockroach.\" Mum laughed.

It was then that my mother decided it was time to tell me about albinism in our family, and the persecutions that albinos suffer at the hands of those considered to have the normal black skin pigmentation.

My maternal grandmother's elder brother was the first albino ever to be bornin their village. Throughout the expanse of that village, every other person was dark skinned. On the nighthe was born, the midwife'shorrible cry ripped through the entire village.

\"What is this thing?!\"

\"Kill the thingnow, before others see it!\"

\"Yei! It's that oyibo thing! I can't even look, I'm scared!\"

\"What will other villagers say of us?\"

\"It's an omen. Kill it now, so that we don't become accursed just like it!\"

\"No, it's the secret to everlasting wealth. Kill it now, so that we can share the body parts and become rich!\"

\"But the orange people are spirits and cannot die. How will Ikpevwe ( the village sorceress) perform the ritual if we cannot get this baby's body parts?\"

\"If you touch it, the orange curse and the yellow curse will plague you and your family forever o!\"

\"We have to bathe it with salt water first to purify it.\"

Such werethe confusing interplayof responses that went on and on that night. Such were the misconceptions andhatred and wicked intent that filled the hearts of the villagers upon the arrival of the first orange babyin the history of their village.

Somehow his father managed to rescue his wife and newborn son from the hands of the mob that began to gatherthe followingnight. My great grandfather and his familyfled and took refuge in the house of the high priest, who himself fled from the mob under the guise of wanting to consult the gods on my great grandparents' behalf.

The mob was about to burn down the priest's house in which my great grandfather and his family were hiding, trapped. But an old man stepped forward. He had been a warrior and hunter all his life and everyone respected him. Cunningly, he had started a fire in three large barns situated close to the main market before intercepting the mob. Then he stood in front of the mob and began to stall by asking them what exactly was going on and if they needed his help.

The mob spat as they recounted to the old man what had transpired the previous nightas well as what their intentions were on this very night. Soon the market and the three large barns were ablaze, causing the mob to disperse as they frantically searched for water to put out the fire and save what little they could. Seizing the opportunity afforded bythe confusion that followed, the old man sneaked intothe house of the high priest where my great grandfather and his family were hiding. He brought with him a sack which contained some provisions.

He whisperedto them, \"Forgive me, but that was the least I could do to save you from being burned alive or hacked to pieceswith your innocent child this night. Cross over toAnambra, andyou will find more oyibos (meaning light skinned or white or albino)like your son, although very few. They will teach you the ways of the orange people. But you must be strong, for from now on you will bean abominable and hunted breed. Now, run! Run!\"

My great grandfather left hisvillage with his family and traveled all night till he crossed the river to another remote villagein Anambra,where there happened to be a few albinos already living. There, he raised his family.

Not that the Anambra people took too kindly to albinos, but at least they were less barbaric than his own villagers and their son would have the company of other albinos to comfort him.

Life was extremely difficult for albinos in the early 1930's, not just because they were badly treated but also because they had to cope with and overcome certain disabilities due to their lack of pigmentation. They endured stigmatization and intra-racial skin color discrimination, and were often defenseless against the hatred of the myopic and uninformed black (or highly pigmented) majority. They were excluded from society and considered \"lazy\" or \"useless\" owing to the health complications they suffered arising from the genetic mutation leading to albinism. Influenced by the unfair persecution and lack of attention suffered by albinos, they themselves often withdrew or hidfrom society, believing they were useless, and would either die shortly or be killed if found alone in public. Many of them were gifted and highly intelligent, but there was no technology or care in place to ensure and enhance their development back then, and they knew that no one believed in them enough to give them a chance to prove their worth. So they wasted away in fear and depression, their lives further shortenedbycancer.

After my mother told me her family's story and the story of albinos, I wept and said, \"Why?! But albinos are human beings too!\"

I ask. Are wenot human beings too? Do wenot share the same characteristics and rights to life asthe highly pigmented humans? Just how diddisability become synonymous to undesirability?

I am partially albino. My parents are not albino. My siblings are not albino. My grandmother and her late elder brother are albinos. Manyof my cousins and nephews and nieces from both paternal and maternal sides are albino.

As a child, I was very sensitive to light. My skin and nails werealmost transparent, so pale thatmy olive green veins were so visible. I had to always wear long sleeves and thick clothing. I was advised to stay out of the sun and away from extreme heat because stuff broke out on my skin very quickly. My vision was good. My eyeballswere brown and not moving uncontrollably,but I couldn't standbright light. My lips were a pale pink. I was always sick and anemic. My hair was thinand brown and had toalways be dyed and then covered up. Some of the hair on my body, arms and legs are yellow as the sun. I couldn't start school till I was about 8 years old.

As I grew older though, my skin became creamtoned and less transparent, but my veins can still be seen. My hair thickened as it lengthened (though it still retained its brown color) and is rather fairly straight instead of kinky curly. My lips are now maroon colored naturally. I still wear long sleeves when I need to go out in the sun, and I never stay long in the sun. I'm extremely careful when selecting body oils and skin care lotions, to be sure that they don't contain certain chemicals and that they have the right sunscreen number. I still can't endurebright or direct light, and sometimes I use glasses for shade (not to correct vision).

I used to hate myself immensely just as much as the ignorant folks around me hated me. But at a point, I decided not to treat myself the same way they treated me. Why be as wicked and insensitive to myself as they were to me? That wasn't helping my condition in any way. I needed me. I needed to be my own best friend. When I hide in a corner or in my room or in my closet, away from the stares and the camera clicks and the mirrors and the bright light, it's always just me left with myself. The torture is simply all the more unbearable when I turn against me and inflict the same wounds that I am trying to escape from upon myself. Healing begins with me, the wounded.

So, as I grew into my twenties,I read up about the genetic mutation called albinism, about its causes and types, about the special needs of albinos. I used to hate myself, until I came to the realization that my body is the shell which the real me lives in; that there's more to me than just the color of my skin; that I have something to give to the world that no one else does; that I am just different, not despicable.I'm learning everyday to love my body and my skin.

I still remember the taunting and the jeeringand the teasing and the name-calling and the bullying I endured in school. I always felt lonely and unlovedeven by family members who were not albino. My father called me \"iwarehbibi\" (dirt or waste) because I was female and because it looked likeI was not going to make it through childhood alive at all. Whenever visitors came to the house, he would warn me sternly never to come out to greet them because he was ashamed of my ghostly appearance. I was always depressed and severely traumatized,and I wanted to die.

I remember when a new child was brought to my class one day. Another albino. Her case was extreme. Her vision was not so good, and she couldn't look steadily at anything in bright light for long. Her skin had reddish sores all over. She needed help. So I became her friend and helped her everyday in class. I became her eyes. I stayed in the shade with her.We shared our stories and pains and hopes and dreams and jokes. We endured the bullying together. Her name was A'isha. She was intelligent.

One day, it was Share and Tell at school. I took my scrapbook with me and showed my collection of pictures of humans of all shapes and sizes and colors and deformities. I said, \"There is no difference between all these people except how their body looks.Albinos are human beings too. What you can do, albino can do too. If albino cannot do something, then just help him or her. One day, you will need help too. Albinos arenot ugly or useless. They are just different. Be good to those who are different from you, so that in your turn you will find the help you need. It is good behavior that makes you beautiful. Bad behavior makesbeautiful personugly.\"

A'ishachoked down a giggle as she alone clapped in admiration.I slammed my scrapbook shut and stomped to my seat with my pouted lips, fighting back the tears. People hissed and mocked, \"Oyibo, are you angry?\"

No, my presentation wasn't selected as one of the best. I was considered arrogant, and my topic was out of syllabus.But at least I had screwed a personal message into their brains.

Shortly afterwards,our Pakistani Headmistress stood up on the assembly ground and warned everyone to desist from harassing albinos. Anyone caught doing so, she said, would be punished and sent away from herschool for good. Then she introduced a man to us from the United Nations High Commission for Human Rights who taught about albinism,what it really was, how the superstitious myths about it were all lies, and how albinos MUSTbe treated as human beings too.

Oh, was I glad! The world knew about us albinos and the world was fighting for us!

Recalling my joy on that day, I resolved to join the fight in my own little way. Iencouraged albinos anywhere I met them, and often I wouldeducate the ignorant about albinism.

Today, albinos fare better in Nigeria, and enlightenment is slowly gaining ground among the general public. Some NGOs even go deepinto the remote villages to teach villagers how to care for albinos and to give albinos reading glasses. The fight is a long one, but the fight is on.

Westill get neglected and ostracized though. The myths about continue tolinger even in the cities. People are still afraid to marry us or share a bed with us. People make unkind comments and expect us to laugh with them about it.I still get taunted sometimes, and asked if I'm a witch or something, or if I ever see what I am looking at. Though I still struggle,I've resolved never to hate anyone back, and never to hate myself ever again.

Much ground is beingconquered though. Albinos are now beginning to see the beauty in themselves, and are learning how to overcome marginalization and intimidation and a low self-esteem. Many of them do exceptionally well in school, and they go on to become some of the best entrepreneursaround. I am glad whenever I remember that I have been a part of this redemptive journey for many albino friends of mine. A'ishais nowa neurosurgeon in the US, and happily married to a highly pigmented man.

Temperance, courage, kindness, hospitality, compassion, good neighborliness, intelligence, foresight, agility, aptitude, accountability, encouragement, hope, faith, love............all these virtues and more are codes written, not on the characteristics of our physical bodies (like our color or size or shape), but deep in our hearts and in our souls. We miss out on so much that a person has to offer when we don't care to look beyond what meets the eye from the surface of their skin. We are all born with so much light and love to give, but as we grow through life so much hatred and unfounded superstitionseeps into our beautiful nature and mingles with it to corrupt us. We must reconnect with our innocence, unlearn prejudice, and answer Mother Nature's call to serve her and the weak among her children with thestrengths and virtues embedded in our core. Let the strong remember that they prosper only as long as they help the weak to enjoy that same prosperity.