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A story of peace from Africa as told by Terry Morton.

Martha came into this world in 1963, the seventh of ten children born to Tanzanian parents, and
the first child with albinism. Her father raged when she was born, accusing her mother of sleeping
with a mzungu (a white person), as that surely could not be his child. When another daughter was
born the following year with Albinism he blamed Martha for being somehow responsible, either
physically, as though it were contagious, or for extending the curse that had been placed on their
family. He began beating her, like a metronome, counting out a raft of other painful conditions
and events—her skin sunburned and sore, was also purple with the wounds he inflicted. She was
ridiculed when she did go to school, and her poor vision made her unable to see the blackboard that
is Tanzanian teachers’ sole method of instruction. One teacher even moved her from her chosen
seat in the front row to the back of the classroom, out of spite.

It took until she was 20 years old for Martha to complete her primary education. By that time her
older brother had joined the army, but upon his return had started joining in the beatings. She soon
sank into despair, realizing the beatings would never end, fearful that she would be married off
as a second or third wife to someone who didn’t love her, and sorry for the deep sadness that had
settled on her mother. From that place of hopelessness, she decided it would be better to take her
own life, putting an end to her own suffering and her mother’s as well.

She left the house at night and started walking, walking in a land where wild animals roam in
search of prey. She had determined that she would go to the big river and drown herself, if wild
animals didn’t kill her first. Heavy rains came, which drenched her but also dampened the scents
for animals to track. When she reached the river and flung herself in, only to find herself thrown up
on the other side. Rather than feeling like she’d been saved, Martha’s despair deepened, “Even You,
God? First my family, but now, even You don’t want me?!” She stumbled on for another whole day
and night, and eventually was found by a local farmer who brought her to the police.

By this time Martha was dazed and mute, but the police chief recognized her, having known the
family when she was young. He located her father, and sent word for him to come and get his
daughter. Her brother came, and Martha knew she would not reach home. Her father had borne the
curse of her for 20 years, and he would not bear it any longer. They trudged along, Martha looking
at every tree, every bush, wondering whether that would be where he would kill her. Eventually
the suspense grew too great. She threw her arms around her brother, “not like a hug but angrily,
gripping him,” and shouted, “Just kill me! Kill me now!”

At that moment, Martha says she heard a voice. “Martha, don’t be afraid, I love you.” Suddenly she
was flooded with an immense sense of freedom, and even love for her brother. “Please forgive me!”
she cried to him, forgive the ways she’d caused him pain and sparked his anger over all the years.
She says that then she saw a “signboard,” one that showed her that, if she died, she wouldn’t see
everyone she loved. “I don’t care if you love me,” she said, “God loves me! Let’s go home.”

Upon arriving she again asked for forgiveness, and her family thought she had gone crazy. Her
father was unmoved, and actually warned her that he would continue to beat her if she didn’t leave.
“No, if God gave me to you, I will stay; but if not, I will go.” Martha had heard of prayer and fasting
from the Catholics, and she decided this was the time for it. For three days she had nothing but
water. And at the end of that time, “way opened” for her to go to Bible College in Nairobi, Kenya,
400 miles north of her family’s village.

There she studied to minister in the Anglican Church, and after two years she had received the
same education as a priest. But, as she says, it’s up to local bishops to decide whether to ordain
women. Instead, the bishop of Arusha offered to employ her as a secretary for the Mothers Union,
with free housing on the church compound and 910 shillings a month (less than a US dollar). She
was also able to work as an “evangelist,” hence the term Sister.

She says that it was during this time that the seed to help other albino people was planted, as
people started coming to ask her help—medical care for skin cancer, safe schools, safe houses.

She worked as an evangelist for 14 years before the women in the Mothers Union decided that
someone who wasn’t a mother had no business being the secretary of a Mothers Union; and that if
Sr Martha weren’t the secretary, there was no reason for her to be in the church house, and told her
she had to leave. Sr went to both the pastor and the bishop, who confirmed that she had a right to
housing, but they also said that, if she weren’t wanted, she should leave.

Martha spent two days and nights in the church, praying and fasting, and as she says, “God opened
me another door.” A German organization invited her to train in the Montessori method, and she
then worked in the diocesan school. But after five years, women decided that she was “after their
husbands” and told her she had to leave. The church was only making about $5 a month by then,
and she told them it wasn’t enough to live on. She also knew the prejudice against older single
women (she was 36 by then) would be even worse if she were to rent an apartment outside the
church walls, not to mention the threats albinos live with. She told them, “I can’t be ‘that lady’—I
will go out of this gate as somebody’s wife.” It seemed impossible, but she entered another period of
prayer and fasting, asking God to send her a husband.

After four months she was sitting in choir practice, as she had been doing for ten years, when a note
was passed down the aisle to her. It was from a member she had known for years, Edmond, and it
said, “In this time of waiting for the Lord to come, let us live as husband and wife.”

While it had been her wish to marry, Martha confesses that in her heart she wasn’t sure she
wanted to marry him, so she didn’t respond. “I had always thought I would like to marry another
evangelist,” she said, “someone with Christian education so that we could talk about the Bible and
share our work” – and Edmond was not educated. “And I was very poor; I didn’t need someone
rich, but I would have liked to marry someone who was at least not as poor as I was”—and Edmond
was poorer. “And I am short, and I always thought I would like to marry someone tall”—and
Edmond was as short as she.

She consulted the bishop, and he said, “It is the right time.” The pastor said the same, as did several
women friends whose opinions she respected. And so came another time of prayer, and fasting, this
time 3 days and nights in the church, asking God to show her His will.

She dreamed, and in the dream she heard God say, “Martha, do you not trust that I have allowed
you this?” Martha woke with a start. “If this is God, I need to hear that again,” and she went back to
sleep, and she heard the same voice, the same message. He went on, “Martha, would you be happy
if I sent you a rich man, who would mistreat you? Or if he was handsome, but he became sick and
died young? Or an evangelist, but he became blind and could no longer read the Bible with you?
Then would you be happy?”

When she awoke this time she knew what she was to do. She sent a friend to bring Edmond to
the church, she begged his forgiveness for not responding earlier, and assured him that God had
answered her questions and that she wanted to marry him. But she said there was one thing he
must do first, he must talk with his family and be sure that they would accept his marrying an
albino. “Martha, Martha,” he replied, “I have loved you for so long, and I showed your photograph
to my family years ago. They want me to marry you. If you accept me, I will be happy.”

Soon they traveled to her parents’ village, so they could receive Martha’s father’s permission. He
was reluctant, because Martha had been contributing to her family throughout her working life,
and he suspected this would stop if she married. But her mother spoke up, “This is God’s time for
Martha to start her life.” Her father agreed.

But upon returning to the church they met with the pastor, then the bishop, and both told them
they wouldn’t be around to marry them. Martha’s response, “It’s alright. If it’s in God’s plan for you
to conduct the service, then I know you will be there; and if it is not, then that is God’s will too.”
More disappointing was Edmond’s meeting with the Wedding Committee, whose job it was to put
on receptions. First the other men ridiculed him for being so poor that he couldn’t even afford a
ring. Then they suggested that, if he wanted them to help him, he would have to “give” them Martha
for the first month of their marriage. Edmond left without a word. There would be no reception.

But Martha & Edmond continued on, sure of the rightness of their marriage. For the next few
months, people would secretly give Martha or Edmond their good wishes, and slip them a few
shillings. Martha notes that it was usually someone either very young or very old. By the time of
their wedding, people had contributed enough for not only a ring but a wedding dress, ceremonies
both in her home village and at the cathedral in Arusha, and a week’s honeymoon in Arusha. And
the bishop and pastor performed the wedding together.

Kangas are cotton swaths of fabric popular in East Africa, sold in a two-meter lengths, printed with
bright patterns with little verses on them. Tanzanian women wear them as shawls and skirts, but
they’re also very multi-purpose around Tanzanian households. The year was 1998, and Martha &
Edmond began life together in a tiny two-room, cinder block home with nothing but a blanket from
Martha and two kangas from Edmond to serve as bedsheets. On them were printed the words, “O
Lord, let this year be a blessing year to us.”

They longed for a family, and soon were blessed when Martha became pregnant, but she miscarried
shortly afterward. The following year she became pregnant again, but again she miscarried.
Tanzanians prize children greatly, and there is also tremendous shame around not being able to
have children. But Edward’s response was, “Don’t be afraid, you are the one I love.” After many
weeks of sorrow and grief, Edward’s mother came to talk with her: “You are the blood in my family,
and we have never had such a blessing. Don’t think that you are different. You are very special. And
now, you are the mother of this family.”

In 1999 Sister Martha started a Saturday program for 200 plus very poor children in the
neighborhood. It was funded by, Compassion International. She received a small salary. After 11
years, their main office policy has changed and as of October 1st of last year they will no longer
employ people without a high school diploma. (Martha only has a primary education and Bible
college.) Martha has no source of income and her husband has no employment. She believes that
God is now calling her to dedicate herself full time to albino people. Terry is currently working with
Martha to develop an organization to support her vision!

Stay tuned for updates on Sister Martha’s work with a group of people who have been marginalized
and terribly abused in Tanzania.