Brian has now returned with two plates and sits down next to Elvis in the shade of the school building. There are black-eyed peas and ugali, a maize meal. While they are eating, Brian describes his friend: ‘Elvis is caring and humble’ and has helped him learn to be more patient – both with others and himself. He doesn’t say a lot, but the boys’ bond is obvious.
For his part, Elvis is glad that Brian is willing to help him. ‘Sometimes my eyes hurt so much that I can’t come to class.’ Whenever this happens, his friend takes notes for him and explains what the lesson was about afterwards. And Brian is happy to do so, answering, ‘Whether you have special needs or not, at the end of the day, we’re all the same – everyone has something they need to be helped with.’
For the two boys, solidarity goes without saying; it’s a way of life at their school. That wasn’t always the case everywhere – and still isn’t. In the surrounding villages, they were initially met with a great deal of scepticism, reports Janet, the school’s head teacher. People with disabilities were often kept at home, out of sight, and sending them to school was considered a waste of money. With this being the general sentiment, parents were ashamed of their daughters and sons. She adds, ‘Often, I realised that they wouldn’t come all the way up to the school gate with the children, but stopped a little distance away so as not to be seen together with their disabled children.’
Nevertheless, the idea of disabled and non-disabled boys and girls learning together has now become normal within the communities around the school, and is becoming more and more accepted, Janet assures us. She says it begins with the families and then spreads to the community. This means parents are now seen in public with their children more. However, she remains realistic: people with disabilities are still being excluded and hidden.
