Heroes of sight: How Tanzanian health workers are fighting trachoma

Margreth Mumbua, a clinical officer and skilled trachoma trichiasis (TT) surgeon

What you need to know:

  • Many believe elderly people suffering from trachoma are witches. It takes time to convince them that this disease is preventable and treatable

Chalinze. In a small village in Chalinze District, laughter fills the air as 63-year-old Mwanaidi Seleman, a traditional birth attendant, welcomes visitors.

Her eyes gleam with life—a sharp contrast to the years she endured the blinding pain of trachoma, a disease that once robbed her of hope.

Her left eye had gone blind, and many in her community believed she was cursed for “bearing too many children.” Today, she shares her story with renewed joy.

 “I had lost all hope,” she says softly. “But after receiving treatment through the government’s programme, I can now see clearly. God is good.”

Behind her recovery is Margreth Mumbua, a clinical officer and skilled trachoma trichiasis (TT) surgeon, whose compassion and precision have restored sight to hundreds across Chalinze.

After graduating from Mvumi Clinical Training College in 2005, she received specialised training under the Ministry of Health’s trachoma elimination initiative.

“For nearly two decades, I’ve travelled to remote villages, performing eye surgeries for people who might otherwise have gone blind,” she says. “When I see my patients regain their vision, my heart is full.”

Breaking superstition

Ms Margreth admits that superstition remains a major obstacle.

 “Many believe elderly people suffering from trachoma are witches. It takes time to convince them that this disease is preventable and treatable,” she explains. To build trust, she learned local languages, saying this helped “break down walls of fear and mistrust.”

Among the hundreds she has treated, one patient remains unforgettable: Emmanuel, a commuter bus driver from Bagamoyo.

He suffered from painful inward-turning eyelashes caused by trachoma. His case was complicated by a heart condition and the use of blood-thinning drugs.

Despite the risks, Margreth performed surgery. Hours later, Emmanuel began bleeding and was rushed back. Margreth stabilised him but was called again late that night. She drove through rough roads, reaching Bagamoyo at 1 a.m.

 “My heart sank when I saw him,” she recalls. “But I knew I had to act.”

She worked tirelessly until 3:30 a.m., when the bleeding stopped. Two weeks later, Emmanuel’s eye had healed completely. “That night will stay with me forever,” she says.

Restoring hope

For Margreth, her work is more than a profession—it is a calling. She urges people to seek help early.

 “If something feels wrong with your eyes for more than two or three days, go to hospital. Don’t wait for a miracle,” she advises.

Ms Mwanaidi, who suffered for two years before getting surgery, says, “Margreth operated on my eye, cleaned it and kept checking on me. Within two months, I was healed.”

Another patient, Rosemary Masanja, known locally as Bibi Tito from Fukayosi in Bagamoyo, endured eye discomfort for nearly 20 years.

 “One day, health workers came to register people with eye problems,” she recalls. “I was diagnosed with trachoma in both eyes and had surgery.”

 After the operation, I could see clearly again.”

National efforts

According to Dr Faraja Lyamuya, the Ministry of Health’s Manager for Lymphatic Filariasis and Hydrocele Control, community participation remains a challenge in eliminating trachoma.

 “To end this disease, community involvement is crucial,” he says.

National NTD Programme Manager Dr Clarer Mwansasu says over 41,000 trachoma surgeries have been conducted since 2014. When the SAFE strategy—Surgery, Antibiotics, Facial cleanliness, and Environmental improvement—was introduced in 1999, 69 communities had active trachoma cases.

“As of 2025, 64 districts have reached elimination thresholds,” he notes. “TT cases have dropped from 167,000 in 2004 to about 10,000 in 2023.”

However, over one million people remain at risk, especially in pastoral communities that migrate frequently.

For health workers like Margreth, every successful surgery is more than a medical milestone—it is a victory against darkness, ignorance, and avoidable blindness.