It was dark when they came, breaking down the gate and door. I lay their quiet and they didn’t know I was there. They went for my sister, mama crying in a corner, papa fighting to get in. “You are animals” he yelled. “We will soon be rich animals” one of them guffawed as his cohorts took their sharp machetes to my sister’s legs. She cried, only for a while and stopped. We buried her in concrete and we left our village that week. I never saw my home again. Nigeria is better for albinos like me. We are safe.