Elmi Bile Mohamed, a 25-year-old man with albinism, reflects on the harsh stigma he faces in Somalia. He laments, “People label me as a cannibal and fear that I will harm their children. The prevailing terror surrounding me is relentless.”
Elmi has encountered immense difficulty in securing a place to live in Mogadishu, the capital city, after leaving his rural home in Hiraan’s central region. His brothers share his condition and have suffered alongside him.
“Our own community subjected us to relentless insults and torment,” he recalls. “We endured physical violence and ridicule because of the pale complexion of our skin, hair, and eyes.”
Initially hopeful for a better life in Mogadishu, Elmi’s optimism waned as he faced rejection while searching for shared housing. He eventually settled for a storage shed in the historic Hamar Weyne district, paying $30 (£23) per month for shelter.
“People perceive me as cursed,” he sighs. “They frequently toss saltwater and raw eggs onto my doorstep, believing this will shield them from me.”
Elmi managed to secure a job as a cleaner at a restaurant, earning a modest daily wage ranging from $1.40 to $4 (£3). Unfortunately, his employment was short-lived, as customers stopped visiting the restaurant, fearing they would contract albinism—a misconception, as it is a genetic condition and not contagious.
“I went from one restaurant to another in search of employment, but no one would hire me,” he recounts. “I resorted to begging on the streets, displaying a sign with my phone number for people to make mobile payments.”
Income from begging scarcely covers his basic needs, including meals and rent, let alone the essential sunblock and glasses required to shield his sensitive skin and eyes. Individuals with albinism lack or have minimal melanin, the pigment that provides natural protection from the sun and determines eye, hair, and skin color.
“I cannot afford sunglasses,” Elmi laments. “The market where I beg is filled with dust and heavily polluted traffic. My eyes are in constant pain, and my vision is deteriorating rapidly.”
“At times, people offer me their leftover food, but there are moments when I have nothing to eat.”
Mr Mohamed’s dreams of running away to Mogadishu to earn money to send back to his family, especially his albino brothers, have been shattered.
The head of Somalia’s albino association, Mohamed Abukar Abdiqadir, with his children
It is not clear how many people with albinism live in Somalia as there is no data available. The country has been affected by conflict and instability for more than three decades so it is impossible to gather reliable information.
Earlier this year, about 80 families living with albinism in Mogadishu came together to form an association, Somali Albinos, which they hope will raise awareness about their plight and help reduce stigma.
So far, they have been sent 86 bottles of sun cream from Somali women living in the diaspora.
It is recommended that people with albinism wear high-factor sunscreen, protective clothing and sunglasses to reduce exposure to sunlight.
Their lack of melanin means they are at increased risk of getting sunburn and skin cancer. It also leads to eye problems as melanin is involved in the development of the retina, the thin layer of cells at the back of the eye.
“Other Somalis with disabilities have formed organisations which lobby for help from the government and international organisations,” says the group’s chairman, 40 year-old Mohamed Abukar Abdiqadir. “They now have rights. We don’t.”
“I was elected as the leader of our association because I am a hero and I never give up,” says Mr Abdiqadir, who has six children. Like him, they all live with albinism.
He scrapes together a living by selling dried and tinned food from a trolley in Hamar Weyne market. He always wears a hat to protect himself from the harsh sun.
“The reason people hate and fear us is ignorance,” he says.
“The evil and discrimination we face must not stop us from fighting for our rights and feeding our families. If Somalis learn about albinism, they will realise we are people just like them.”
Asha Gele
Mother of children with albinism
Currently, discrimination against individuals with albinism is so deeply entrenched that children with this condition rarely have the opportunity to receive an education.
Asha Gele, a mother of two sons living with albinism, shares the heartbreaking decision she had to make: “I had to withdraw my children from school because they were subjected to daily stoning incidents,” she reveals. “The delicate nature of their skin suffered extensive damage from the stones thrown at them. Now, I keep them indoors all day, every day. While they may miss out on an education and the chance to interact with other children, at least they are safe.”
The family resides in a makeshift two-room dwelling in the Huriwa district of north Mogadishu, paying $40 a month for accommodation. Their home is constructed with old fabric and weathered, rusted corrugated iron sheets, providing insufficient protection against the harsh sunlight that relentlessly burns the children’s skin.
Mrs. Gele reminisces about her previous livelihood, selling vegetables in the market, which she was forced to abandon to care for her children. The family now grapples with survival on the meager income of $4 to $6 that her husband earns daily as a rickshaw driver.
The strain on Mrs. Gele’s marriage is palpable, as her husband holds her responsible for giving birth to children with albinism, blaming her for bringing misfortune to the family.
“The people I cherish the most – my husband and my own relatives – ostracize my children,” she shares with a heavy heart. “Even my own brother keeps his distance, fearing that they might somehow transmit albinism to him.”
“But I will forever stand by their side and defend them, regardless of the circumstances,” Mrs. Gele asserts. “I will remain patient and unwavering in my commitment to them. They did not choose to live this way.”