My Mother Lives Through Me

CW: racism towards albinos, murder

It was dusk when the men located Aadila and her mother hiding in a rural village mud hut in northern Tanzania. Witch Doctors hired mercenaries to track down and kill Aadila’s mother. They disapproved of her role as an activist for Albino’s Human Rights.; they hunted 15-year-old Aadila because she was an albino. Many Tanzanians thought of albinos as subhumans, so killing and mutilating them for their body parts was accepted. Besides, their body parts could fetch up to $75,000. An irresistible temptation for many people living in one of the world’s poorest countries.

When Aadila lived in Mwanza, her mother received death threats daily from witch doctors and even local government officials. They warned her to stop posting her negative comments about Tanzania on social media. The officials warned them that the government couldn’t guarantee their safety. The final confrontation came when Aadlia’s mother was arrested and beaten for organizing a town meeting to inform the people about the growing violence against and persecution of innocent Albinos. The next night the activist community relocated them to this secret safe house.

Aadila and her mother peeked out the window and saw men dressed in camouflage fatigues. The moonlight reflected off their machetes. The men conducted a door-to-door search and ransacked every hut. Men yelled, women screamed, and babies cried. Her home was next.

         As they sat on the floor, Aadila’s mother wrapped her legs around her and hugged her. “How did they find us?” Her mother exclaimed.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Her features turned hard. “Listen, never think there’s anything wrong with you because you are an Albino. It’s not your fault. We are all God’s children, you hear?”

 The bang on the door startled them.

“W-Who is it!”

“We’re looking for Shirley Hamisi!”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

         Aadlia’s mother pulled out her flip phone and frantically dialed. .

         “We need you now. So we’ll do as we planned.”

Mrs. Hamisi stuffed a roll of money into Aadila’s hand.

”Aadila, you must stay away from strangers. Go to the Nyasho minibus stop. A friend of mine, Mr. Greg Grant, he’ll meet you there. Don’t look for him. He’ll find you.”

Mrs. Hamisi helped up Aadila, and she climbed onto the dirt outside the window. Mother and daughter hugged.

 “Look, Aadila. You’re going to be okay. Greg will take you to the orphanage in Mwanza. You’ll be safe there.”

Aadila nodded.

“Okay then. Go, my love. I’ll come to you later. I promise.”

Aadila crept away, then stopped. It was dark now, and the dark streets frightened her. She cried and turned to go back home. But, outside the window, she heard the men asking her mother where’s the mbolimbwelu.-the white goat!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice quivered.

“Listen, Miss Hamisi. Tell us where your daughter is?”

“I-I don’t know!”

With one swing, he lopped off Mrs. Hamisi’s head. It rolled across the floor and settled against the leg of a chair facing the window. Aadila gasped and stood up. She wanted to scream, but fear gripped her throat. Aadila stood up. If the men had turned to look at the window, they would have seen her. But Aadila couldn’t take her eyes off her mother’s face.

The other men watched as the executioner wiped the blood off his blade on Aadila’s mother’s pants. Then, the men marched out of the hut. Adalia ran blindly towards the south road.

The Nyasho mini bus stand was dangerous during the daytime. At night, it was also frightening. The crowds were gone, and all the shops closed. Aadila hid behind a garbage bin where she jumped and held her breath at every sound. The sound of a car driving slowly over the gravel road made her instinctively press her body against the bin.

The car stopped, then footsteps towards her.

“Aadila?” a husky male voice asked as he extended his hand.”I’m Greg Grant. But you can call me Greg.”

A teary-eyed Aadila looked up and nodded.

Aadila sat in the passenger side of the jeep and stared out of the window. The dark-tinted window allowed her to see without being seen.

Greg smiled. “I’m sorry about this situation, Aadila.”

Aadila watched his reflection in the window.

“How’s your, mom? I know you miss her, but she’ll be joining us soon.”

Aadila’s tear-streaked face looked at Greg. “No, she won’t.” she snapped.

Confused, Greg asked as he handed her a tissue. “Why won’t she be joining us?”

“Because she dead, that’s why!”

“What do you mean, ‘dead’? How? Why?”

“Those men who came by our house tonight looking for me killed her.”

Greg pulled the jeep over to compose himself. “Sister Shirley, dead. What is the movement going to do now?” he murmured.

         Greg discreetly wiped his eyes with his fingers.

         “Your mother was a great woman, Aadila. She is going to be missed.”

         Greg patted Aadila on the hand.

         As they rode the next couple of miles in silence, Aadila thought about her life. How different it might have been if she wasn’t an albino.

“My father, a Tanzanian Black, left my mom three after months after I was born. A witch doctor convinced him that my albinism was somehow the fault of my white mother. We struggled for fifteen years to keep me safe. I never really knew what danger I was in until my best school chum, Mariamu, was attacked in school. A man held her down while another man hacked both her arms just below the elbow. I can still hear her screaming in the hospital. After that, I could no longer attend school. The principal sadly admitted he could not protect albino children any longer. My mom homeschooled and protected me. What will I do now?”

Aadila dabbed at her tears with the tissue. She looked over at Greg. She could tell his heart was sad.

“Mr. Greg. My mom told me a story about slaves in America. She said there was a woman named ‘something’ Truth who helped slaves get to freedom. Is this true?”

Greg gave Aadila a reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s true. The woman’s name was Sojourner Truth. She was a former black slave who helped slaves get to freedom using something called an underground railway system. “

“She was a slave? How could she do that? I mean, help slaves?”

“Well, it took a lot of people working together.to make the underground railroad work.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

For the rest of the trip, Greg explained, and she listened. Then, finally, Aadila decided that she would do with her life. She’d honor and continue her mother’s legacy by using some of the principles of the Underground Railroad.