text: My name is Ajuji, and they call me the ghost of Nairobi. &#x200B; I was cut free from my mother beneath a blood moon in Kibera, Nairobi. The doctors said that mama did not survive the birth, and that it was because I was cursed. You see, I was born white. Pale as bone with devil red eyes. I was shunned from the very beginning, even the holy men cast me aside. Father was the only one who showed me love, and I never forgot it. He named me Ajuji, which means 'born on a rubbish heap'. The others, the people who I called neighbour, they had their own name for me. &#x200B; I wish I could say that my childhood home was special. That it was safe, and clean. That I wasn't beaten everyday for the colour of my skin. But I can't say that, because it isn't true. Kibera is the biggest slum in all of Africa. There is no water. There is no food. No school. No work. Criminals roam freely and nowhere is safe. Everywhere you turn there is suffering. I guess I am fortunate that I cannot walk in the sun for too long, I didn't have to see it much. But when the moon rises, so do I. &#x200B; I remember one night when I was around ten, I met Alhaadi Okewa for the first time down by the festering bile we called a river. What a giant he was. I had heard the stories about Alhaadi, and I can say that they were all true. He would openly boast about the massive quantities of heroin he sold, the men he'd killed, and all the others he's maimed, regardless of who was around to hear. Not that it mattered of course, not even the police could touch him. He was the most feared, most respected man I have ever seen. I knew he was always looking for boys to do his deliveries, and I wanted to give something back to my father, so I began to work for him. &#x200B; I worked through the night, when most were asleep. It didn't bother me much, I could sleep during the day and keep out of the sun. Even though Alhaadi was one of the most violent criminals Kibera had ever known, he was always kind to me. After my father died, he was all that I had. I spent many years working for Alhaadi, and the trouble I had previously known had stopped. At least for a little while. &#x200B; One night when I was doing deliveries, I was attacked by a rival of Alhaadi. I lost some teeth, and my left hand was broken. The money and the heroin was stolen too. It took me two days before I plucked up the courage to return to Alhaadi. I was sure he was going to kill me. But he didn't. Instead he gave me a club, and told me to do my deliveries. It wasn't like Alhaadi to offer a second chance, and I wasn't about to ask why he did. &#x200B; I taught myself how to use the club. I started small at first, and would crush cans by my shack. Alhaadi bandaged my hand, and I began my deliveries again. It was a week later when Alhaadi's rival came for me again, but this time I was prepared. I broke his jaw, and smashed both his feet beneath my club. Alhaadi was pleased. Not only had I defended myself and completed my deliveries, but I had taken out the competition. The ghost of Nairobi was becoming a known name, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't revel in it. &#x200B; Father always said that nothing happens by chance. That we are on a predetermined path in life, laid out before us by God. Kibera is home to half a million people. Half a million. Now imagine my surprise, when on the last delivery of the night, I was reunited with one of the doctors who brought me into this world. At first I thought nothing of it. He was just another customer, another regular man turned junkie. That was until he recognised me. He started to talk, rambling in his drug fueled stupor. He told me how he and the other doctors had murdered my mother, and if not for my father, they would have murdered me. He said that mama was in league with devils, to have had a son like me. Only a child of sin would have been born this white. I didn't want to believe it, but every beating, every name calling, every time I had spit in my face, they all told me that it was true. How may others had been killed because they were like me? Hundreds? Thousands? I didn't ask. I guess I didn't need to know. &#x200B; I clubbed him to death until I was too tired to continue. But not before he gave me the names of the others. &#x200B; I never knew my mother. She was stolen from me, and I from her. All my life, all I have ever known is pain, and for what? Maybe father was right. Maybe God has laid a path for me. The foul misdeeds that plagued my life have made me who I am, and if this is his plan for me then so be it. &#x200B; I will be his servant of justice. For every child born with bone white skin who didn't live to see another day, and every parent who lost their life for the crime of having an albino child. &#x200B; I will haunt these streets like they have haunted us. &#x200B; My name is Ajuji, and I am the fucking ghost of Nairobi.