Mr Daniel K. Kalinaki
Early this year, I sat down with a dear friend and heard a story that wedged itself into the ventricles of my heart and then dragged me through a rollercoaster of emotions. First a word about my friend.
By dint of hard work, luck, street smarts, and not being harmed by the biological lottery, my friend found fortune at an early age and now spends most of his time avoiding the fame that the former often attracts. In his many below-the-line ventures, my friend happened upon an institution set up to ameliorate and alleviate such travails and inconveniences as are often suffered by those among the general population who find themselves less able to do many routine day-to-day activities, or who are only able to achieve success in those ventures with great difficulty.
The official term, I believe, is people with disabilities. At their invitation, my friend attended their office and was so warmly received that he was moved to extend a reciprocal invitation to his own office.
The day came, the team turned up at the appointed hour and were ushered into the boardroom and invited to partake of the delectable delights and delicacies as are to be found in such settings.
The conversation started but my friend noticed that, despite several reminders to the visitors to help themselves to the snacks, they all politely but dutifully and stoically, refused. At a break in proceedings, one of the visitors asked and was shown to the bathroom. When the visitor returned, he murmured something to his party.
The veil that had dampened the mood and appetites of the visitors was immediately lifted. The snacks received enthusiastic attention and the participation rate in the conversation ratcheted up instantly.
As my friend later told me, this is what had happened: On his return from the bathroom, the visitor informed his travelling party that the premises had something incredibly important to them; a wheelchair-accessible toilet. Thus, the visitors could eat and drink to their fill and not have to worry about the downstream side of the value chain.
Dear Reader, when have you ever thought about how much difference to the quality of life a wheelchair-accessible toilet can have? To many people living with disabilities in a country that hardly pays any regard to them, it is not an exaggeration to say that this is a matter of life and death. Itineraries must be planned down to the last minute. Calorie- and liquid-intake must be carefully calibrated to match evacuation schedules with appropriate toilet facilities.
People living with disabilities in Uganda have a higher incidence of kidney disease relative to the general population because they do not drink as much water due to the inconvenience of taking a leak, my friend told me, and he was not taking the piss!
Many things we take for granted are a herculean effort for others less abled. Like walking up a flight of stairs, or just walking. Like reading small text, or just seeing. Like hearing well, or just hearing anything at all. And that is all before we get to those among us whose heads are an amphitheatre of the absurd, filled with the soundtrack of soliloquy.
If you have all your bits bolted on correctly and can chew gum while you walk you should consider yourself lucky. But you could still be one boda boda accident or one viral disease away from needing help feeding yourself.
The good thing is that we can do something about it. We should ensure that all public offices have disabled access and parking, wheelchair-accessible toilets, and assisted speech options. This can be baked into new builds and retrofitted in existing ones. Public-facing private sector entities, which tend to adapt faster, can set the pace.
Individuals, too, can do something to help, even from the narrow prism of self-interest. Will you be able to climb up to that fourth-floor penthouse bedroom when your centre-bolt gives way at 70? That maid’s room on the ground floor with a tiny bathroom might be where you spend your last years.
I confess that I am split on handing over money to folks parading all manner of deformities at traffic junctions. I used to do it, then decided it was ignoble and dehumanising. I will resume a longstanding practice of giving to a charity that helps those less able or less privileged. I ask, Dear Reader, that you find one and give what you can. It is true what they say, there is greater pleasure in giving than in receiving.
Mr Kalinaki is a journalist and poor freedom fighter.
[email protected]; @Kalinaki
