My boss out in Kenya, Fredrick Ouko, and our colleague Alfred Simiyo, have been selected to carry the paralympic torch on its relay through London this week. They will join Team GB wheelchair sprint star Anne Wafula Strike and other representatives of ANDY's UK partner organisation, AbleChildAfrica, in recognition of the success of one of our joint programmes getting young disabled people into work. Like Kenyan-born Anne, both Fredrick and Alfred lost the use of their legs to childhood polio. Here, Fred says what it means to him, and how it will help ANDY get even better results for young Kenyans with disabilities.
This week we will be carrying the Paralympic torch through the heart of London. It is a fantastic honour, and wonderful recognition of some of the work we are doing to help people like us – youth with disabilities in Kenya – to take control of our own lives and escape lives of poverty and dependence.
To be even, a small part of London 2012 is a dream. With 2 million tickets sold, and the UK’s national television stations all covering the event, the eyes of the country and much of the globe will be on London, celebrating the achievements and talents of people with disabilities.
It only goes to show how different a World we will be flying into. In Kenya most people would never even consider that we have any potential, aspirations or talents.
The employer interviewing us for jobs, the teachers in schools, the bank manager considering whether to give us a loan for business, the Government department planning healthcare, even the parents deciding whether to spend money sending their disabled child to school – very few see us as equal or deserving. And our place in society is destined to be the dark alleys where people think we belong.
Many see us a burden or something to be ashamed of, or if we’re lucky someone to pity. Many don’t see a person at all, but Viwete or Kiguru - Swahilli words for ‘thing’.
When families fled serious political violence after our elections in 2007, some even took the opportunity to leave their children with disabilities behind. Our former president this month denounced the appointment of a highly educated, experienced human rights defender and public servant to an important government commission because he ‘cannot see’ the issues – he is blind. Unfortunately, many agree with him
It is this prejudice that denies the millions of disabled Kenyans living in poverty the tools they need to escape. I was lucky; as I had what every child needs - parents who have always believed in me. They believed in my talents and pushed me to gain the education I needed, and then supported me when I decided to start my own community organisation at 20 years old. But lets not think it came easy, my Dad has told me of the many questions he was asked on his decision to support my education. He could have invested all his time and money on my siblings, as they thought I was not a good enough investment venture due to my disability. It is people like my parents who are responsible for getting me to where I am today. They chose to look at me as a child like any other who deserved everything needed to succeed in life.
But less than 20% of children with disabilities make secondary school, and just 2% make university. ANDY’s programmes are designed to give people with disabilities the opportunities which society often denies us; the chance to take part in sports, learn how to write a business plan and access credit, gain an internship, get HIV and health information in a format they can understand, or build the skills to seek election. Every one of us who takes on a role in our community; from running a business to running for election, becomes more than their disability and asks questions of the old attitudes. It is the only way we challenge the stereotypes that have existed in our society because this is when we are viewed as contributors to the overall efforts of national development
And that’s why it is so important that we try to take some of this Paralympic magic back to East Africa, to inspire and support even more youth with disabilities in Kenya and change society’s attitudes on a much bigger scale. We are telling our story in schools, offices, government departments, in newspapers and across social media – challenging myths and changing minds.
Cheer them on from London Zoo at 10am on Wednesday.
To find out more about AbleChildAfrica’s life-changing work in East Africa, got to http://ablechildafrica.org, and follow us on facebook and Twitter. To donate Text 'Able11' followed by £5, £10 or £20 to 70070
Nairobi and beyond
What you are reading
We spent most of 2011 on 12-month placements organised through Voluntary Services Overseas, the world's leading independent, international development charity.
Jo supported fundraising strategies of the African Braille Centre, bringing in many, many dollars along the way, while Gareth helped a growing, dynamic charity (http://www.andy.or.ke) supporting young Kenyans with disabilities to take control of their own lives become a respected, national voice in the disability movement.
This blog was part postcard home, part document of the VSO experience for any prospective volunteers, and now occasional home for any leftovers form our time out there - connections to Kenya, to disability, or to our partner organisations.
Jo supported fundraising strategies of the African Braille Centre, bringing in many, many dollars along the way, while Gareth helped a growing, dynamic charity (http://www.andy.or.ke) supporting young Kenyans with disabilities to take control of their own lives become a respected, national voice in the disability movement.
This blog was part postcard home, part document of the VSO experience for any prospective volunteers, and now occasional home for any leftovers form our time out there - connections to Kenya, to disability, or to our partner organisations.
Monday 27 August 2012
Tuesday 8 May 2012
Banging heads against brick walls
A block of flats in Leeds has now
been without running water for six days. Before anyone stops reading; this isn’t
going to be a preachy post about how we don’t know we’re born because thousands
of Kenyans survive without basic services every day.
The starkest difference between the two countries lies in
the response it has prompted from the flats' residents, and the fact that any of the
institutions and companies involved are doing anything in return. In the UK – especially among the middle
classes who live in this block of flats – we use every trick in the book to
shame and embarrass companies into correcting their mistakes, and demand that
the organisations that represent us fight our corner. So this lack of water has been making headlines across all media, the local council has intervened
to provide local showers and toilets, and health inspectors have even been to
check it’s still safe to live there.
But before any inspired Kenyans pick
themselves off the floor and decide to follow their lead and take the fight to
Kenya Power and Lighting (nkt!), I have a cautionary tale from my time in
Nairobi. When we arrived inwe moved into a relatively new block of
flats which were apparently built without anyone checking they could be
supplied with water. We tried not to think about what other short-cuts were
taken. When the water pressure isn’t there, Nairobi Water Company (nktest!) just doesn’t
refill the tanks which supply each of the households. On the sixth floor, this
affected us more often than most. To make matters worse, after we'd introuced some simple rationing, the water supply was inexplicably
cut off. After a couple of days queuing, a lot of emails and phone calls we
found that this was down to the unpaid bills of previous tenants. After we’d
paid the bill twice, they promised to put it back. But
the pipe was never reconnected. Now I am a pushy, educated complainer. If I
reach retirement, I will spend it sending angry, pompous versions of whatever
has substituted the letter to whatever has substituted local councillors. I am
a customer service nightmare; I expect everything I pay for to work. If it
doesn’t, I complain. The more a company tries to ignore me, the deeper I dig my
heels in. So armed with the email trail showing the broken promises and Nairobi Water admitting liability, I asked how I could claim the compensation
for the supply of water I’d had to purchase privately. The reply was sent with
the typed equivalent of a straight face:
We have no system for reimbursing you for this cost incurred. Thank you
and we hope to be able to have the honour of serving you again in the future.
I searched in vain for the
paragraph which began ‘If you are unhappy with this response you can choose to
escalate the complaint or write to the ombudsman . . .’
Our neighbours just shrugged their
shoulders and got on with it. These were the middle classes. Voters. People who
actually paid for their water supply. It was very difficult to accept this
level of nonchalance in a country where people carry round two or three
different SIM cards and switch between them to get the absolute best deal. This
was the beginning of my deflation. My first experience of powerlessness as a
consumer (unrelated to supporting Leeds United, anyway). After farcical trips to the post office,
involving seven separate transactions and some unexplained taxes on parcels, and
hours queuing in Electricity House querying our bills to be told ‘just pay
it’, I was beaten. Usually, white skin and the power/wealth it insinuates in
Kenya guarantees a different response. But I can happily report that most
institutions’ bureaucracy, unaccountability and poor service sees no colour. I can easily understand why people don’t sacrifice hours of
income to try and make sense of it all. Kenyans simply seem to be used to
having no power when dealing with their institutions.
As Allys Williams, our flatmate in that often waterless flat in Nairobi ,wrote in the penultimate post of her (and fiancé
eddie’s) very readable blog :
(Seeing Kenyans) Growing up without loads of “stuff” isn’t the worst
thing; the sad part is when you see people who can’t reach beyond the present
moment because they have been let down so badly by their world that they have
no sense of agency. Believing that one day you will be able to take charge,
even just a little, is worth a parking lot full of Ferraris.
That’s why in many countries
VSO’s focus is on strenthening civil society; empowering people and non-governmental
organisations with the knowledge and skills to hold power to account, to
exercise their rights and take control of their own future. I worked with the brilliant Action Network for the Disabled on
its human rights and advocacy programme, which was giving Kenyans with
disabilities the knowledge, skills and confidence to make the rights they have
gained on paper in the new Kenyan constitution work as a positive force for
their lives. It’s a great example of how well the VSO process can work; I
supported the programme team to help create a clear and distinctive guide to
the rights of persons with disabilities, to refine workshops to train and
support human rights activists in Kenya’s three main cities, and create the
partnerships and connections to extend the impact of the campaign. By marrying
my expertise with their knowledge we expanded the impact of the programme, and
created materials which are now being used within the disability mainstreaming
work of the Kenyan government, and by an international charity’s huge
Kenya-wide advocacy programme supporting over 10,000 people. I visited the
places where the people ANDY had trained were helping people with disabilities
in their communities into school, registering to vote, accessing buildings and
challenging the negative perceptions Kenyan society still holds about
disability.
It was stunning to see, in the
space of those twelve months, the change that could be achieved by a fairly
small organisation led by an inspirational man who has overcome enough barriers
to know that he and his fellow Kenyans can get over a few more.
Go on, sponsor me to run the Leeds half marathon for ANDY. Just give them £3 and they'll change someone's life. Good deal.
Monday 7 May 2012
If I finish the Leeds half will you buy ANDY a pint?
The Leeds half marathon is a humble challenge compared to many of my friends' fundraising endeavours; walking through the sahara, running actual marathons across the globe and the like. But I think you'd probably buy me a pint or a coffee at the finish line if you were there, so why not give that money to Action Network for the Disabled (ANDY) - the charity I spent last year working for in Kenya - instead?
Take a look at this slide show if you are considering sponsoring me. It goes a bit quickly, so use the pause button. Or just sponsor me here
Thanks!
GW
Take a look at this slide show if you are considering sponsoring me. It goes a bit quickly, so use the pause button. Or just sponsor me here
GW
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