Thoughts from a development worker under the blazing African Sun

Kirsten Nielsen has served as a development worker in Uganda since 1997, sent out by Disabled People’s Organisations – Denmark. Her tasks have ranged from building a national umbrella organisation for all persons with disabilities in Uganda to training women with disabilities in the country’s rural districts. Here, she recounts her thoughts and reflections from “another day on the job”.

Much of my work is performed behind a computer at my office in the capital city of Kampala. It is not entirely unlike one of DPOD’s offices in Denmark. Except the heat which assaults you through the window, the excruciatingly snail-paced Internet speed, and the photocopier that stops working whenever there is yet another power failure. Not to mention the dust that finds its way in through every nook and cranny, settling on the piles of papers on my desk, reminding me that I am just a stone’s throw away from unpaved roads and places where no-one is bothered by blackouts and slow Internet. Simply because they do not have a computer! Perhaps not even an electricity pole. In fact, only eight percent of Ugandan households are connected to the power grid!

Today, I have moved out of my office, sitting and talking with Symphorosa about the plight of disabled women in Soroti District, where she lives. Representing the National Union of Women with Disabilities of Uganda (NUWODU), Symphorosa has mobilised and trained 17 groups of disabled women from Soroti in eastern Uganda. She has asked me round to talk about the options now, when the support from Danish Women with Disabilities to NUWODU has been phased out. The money made a difference. Symphorosa has noticed how women with disabilities have become more visible, gaining a voice in the communities where they have been mobilised and trained. She also observes that more parents are sending their disabled children to school. And this is what motivates Symphorosa: to see how life changes for disabled women.

The means is to inform the communities and raise the women’s awareness. “Everyone can become disabled, or get a disabled child. Today it’s me, but tomorrow it could be you! Then what would you do?” This is the message with which Symphorosa, without mincing her words, constantly confronts the local authorities. She carries on: “Essentially, we all have the same basic needs, whether or not we’re disabled. The only problem is that it’s harder to meet one’s need with a disability. It’s our common responsibility to organise society so that it caters to everyone’s basic needs.” It is women like Symphorosa who motivate and inspire me in my work. And while we chat, I wonder what exactly it is that I, as a development worker, may contribute here. Capacity-building, organisational development and partnership are some of the key words on my job.  Nevertheless, after many years in this field, I have only become less sure about what these words actually mean. What capacity is it really that I am building? And whose? As for myself, I am learning every day – from Symphorosa and from my numerous other Ugandan colleagues and fellow disabled people. But are they learning anything from me?

Is what I do rather to see and draw attention to the capacity they already possess? And try to help them use and develop it? Like Symphorosa. She has just eight years of schooling, and absolutely no access to books or the Internet. But she knows what goes on among disabled women in the countryside, and what moves them. She is one of them herself. She has a disability. Using few and simple words, she manages to say everything written in the thick reports that I keep in my office. She is able to pass on the message. If only she gets the necessary support. 

I hear Symphorosa’s voice again: “It’s quite simple, Kirsten. The women must learn to value their own lives. If you fail to value your own life, you have no dignity. It takes self-esteem to say ‘no’ and start making a change.” Indeed! In fact, it is too simple for us to comprehend! This is why we so often talk past each other. We people from rich countries know nothing about how to cope every day without electricity and running water. As it turns out, training for disabled women in income-generating activities must start off by teaching what money is, and what it is good for! Since we have never led that life, we continue to forget what it is like. I forget it. The disabled Ugandan leaders of national disability organisations forget it, too, because they now live as I do, safe and sound in Kampala. And the Danish disability organisations do not have a cat in hell’s chance of understanding it, unless someone like me tries to convey the picture and build a bridge.

When we cannot take in the kind of life lived by 92 percent of the Ugandan population, our starting point for development returns to being Danish or ‘donor-driven’. And quite out of touch with reality in the countryside, under the scorching African sun, where Symphorosa, sitting on the back of a bicycle, travels from house to house to advise and mobilise women with disabilities, without being paid a single Ugandan shilling for her work. Symphorosa’s voice reaches me again: “It’s good that Danish disability organisations show solidarity and support the disabled in Uganda, but most of the money is spent on experts and assessments and nice reports and strategies. You should stop being so afraid of making mistakes. Train the people closest to the target group, and put your trust in them. They are the ones who can make a difference for everyone with disability in Uganda.” I thank Symphorosa, telling her how important it is for me that she shares her experiences with such frankness. And I promise to look into whether money might be obtained from other donors, even though I know it will be very difficult.

This is one of those days when I come home from work feeling that I have done absolutely nothing. I only wished I had a million to hand out! But all I can do is to write my article about Symphorosa, who is but one of many such devoted people in Uganda. I wish to convey the inspiration and hope that women like Symphorosa give me.  And then just carry on with my job of fostering understanding between donor and recipient, rich and poor.