I Accidentally Got a Scammer Tortured by Police in Tanzania
It was when they manhandled him onto the table, tethered him to a water pipe coming out of the ceiling, and pulled his pants down to his ankles that I experienced a change of heart. For weeks I’d been consumed with hatred for the man on that table. But it’s funny how your perspective changes when someone is about to be tortured, especially when you’re the one that put him there.
It had begun, like many tales of misadventure, in that most anarchic staging post for travel: the Tanzanian bus station. Ever been to one? This is how it goes: The long-distance buses tend to leave at dusk or before; schedules are mind-bogglingly irregular; a tourist tax on the price of a ticket is all but inevitable. Like transport hubs the world over, they’re a magnet for the wretched, the transient, and the dispossessed. And you endure it all for the privilege of cramming yourself into a bus driven by some prepubescent boy-racer in a country with a traffic-accident rate six times worse than that of the UK.
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I Accidentally Got a Scammer Tortured by Police in Tanzania

It was when they manhandled him onto the table, tethered him to a water pipe coming out of the ceiling, and pulled his pants down to his ankles that I experienced a change of heart. For weeks I’d been consumed with hatred for the man on that table. But it’s funny how your perspective changes when someone is about to be tortured, especially when you’re the one that put him there.

It had begun, like many tales of misadventure, in that most anarchic staging post for travel: the Tanzanian bus station. Ever been to one? This is how it goes: The long-distance buses tend to leave at dusk or before; schedules are mind-bogglingly irregular; a tourist tax on the price of a ticket is all but inevitable. Like transport hubs the world over, they’re a magnet for the wretched, the transient, and the dispossessed. And you endure it all for the privilege of cramming yourself into a bus driven by some prepubescent boy-racer in a country with a traffic-accident rate six times worse than that of the UK.

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The Fight to Stop Tanzanians Killing and Eating Albino People
Gamariel Mboya, whom we interviewed in this article, is the guy in the hat
Tanzania is known for many things, especially its great food. There is kisamvu, a mixed vegetable dish that goes great with rice; bamia, a meat and okra stew; and mchicha, a kind of peanut curry. Yet as tasty as they are, in the eyes of many Tanzanians, none of these traditional favorites really hit the spot as much as other national dishes: ones made from the hair, blood, and bones of people with albinism.
Traditional healers and witch doctors have long considered the body parts of people with albinism as being essential to their magical recipes. These practitioners of muti—or “medicine murder”—believe that their recipes heal the sick and bestow El Dorado-like fortunes on the poor. Men with HIV and AIDS have been known to abduct young albino girls, in the belief that raping them might help cure their afflictions. Fishermen often pay hunters for their human wares, believing an albino limb or two might jazz up their fishing nets and attract better catches.
Over 71 people with albinism have been murdered in Tanzania since 2006. This month, a seven-year-old boy was maimed on his way home from school, attacked by several men who decided they liked the look of his arm.
Sick of this bullshit, the good guys and gals of Tanzania have rallied and responded, forming activist groups made up of people both with and without albinism. I spoke to Gamariel Mboya, a friendly Tanzanian guy with albinism, to find out more.VICE: Can you please tell us a little about yourself?Gamariel Mboya: I am a person with albinism from the southern highlands of Tanzania, a region called Mbeya. I’m 29 and married. I have a daughter and work for a charity called Under the Same Sun.What was life like growing up in Tanzania?Not simple. People with albinism don’t get sufficient support from society, and as a result learn not to trust anyone. We’re not treated like human beings.A Pew Forum report revealed that 43 percent of Tanzanians depend on and believe in traditional healers, who tell them people with albinism have supernatural powers. People believe our bones, our blood and our hair bring good luck and that women with albinism can cure HIV and AIDS.

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The Fight to Stop Tanzanians Killing and Eating Albino People

Gamariel Mboya, whom we interviewed in this article, is the guy in the hat

Tanzania is known for many things, especially its great food. There is kisamvu, a mixed vegetable dish that goes great with rice; bamia, a meat and okra stew; and mchicha, a kind of peanut curry. Yet as tasty as they are, in the eyes of many Tanzanians, none of these traditional favorites really hit the spot as much as other national dishes: ones made from the hair, blood, and bones of people with albinism.

Traditional healers and witch doctors have long considered the body parts of people with albinism as being essential to their magical recipes. These practitioners of muti—or “medicine murder”—believe that their recipes heal the sick and bestow El Dorado-like fortunes on the poor. Men with HIV and AIDS have been known to abduct young albino girls, in the belief that raping them might help cure their afflictions. Fishermen often pay hunters for their human wares, believing an albino limb or two might jazz up their fishing nets and attract better catches.

Over 71 people with albinism have been murdered in Tanzania since 2006. This month, a seven-year-old boy was maimed on his way home from school, attacked by several men who decided they liked the look of his arm.

Sick of this bullshit, the good guys and gals of Tanzania have rallied and responded, forming activist groups made up of people both with and without albinism. I spoke to Gamariel Mboya, a friendly Tanzanian guy with albinism, to find out more.

VICE: Can you please tell us a little about yourself?
Gamariel Mboya:
 I am a person with albinism from the southern highlands of Tanzania, a region called Mbeya. I’m 29 and married. I have a daughter and work for a charity called Under the Same Sun.

What was life like growing up in Tanzania?
Not simple. People with albinism don’t get sufficient support from society, and as a result learn not to trust anyone. We’re not treated like human beings.

A Pew Forum report revealed that 43 percent of Tanzanians depend on and believe in traditional healers, who tell them people with albinism have supernatural powers. People believe our bones, our blood and our hair bring good luck and that women with albinism can cure HIV and AIDS.

Continue