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allAfrica.com: Uganda: A Voice of the Voiceless - the Ignored Deaf Population in Ug (Page 1 of 1)
"90 percent of deaf people in Uganda cannot count from one to ten or sign their name. They are talking about HIV/Aids in taxis, bars, on radio and TV... None of these modes of communication is available to most deaf people."
Though there are about 528,000 deaf people in Uganda out of a population of 28 million, there are just five primary schools (two in Kampala and three outside the capital city) and one secondary school. for the deaf.
Against all odds: Children study at the Ntinda School for the deaf. Photos by Glenna G.
It's not surprising, then, that 90 percent of deaf people in Uganda cannot count from one to ten or sign their name, says Member of Parliament Alex Ndeezi, Chairperson of the Committee on Equal Opportunities. Most use their thumb print when they need to sign their name. Often born to hearing parents in poor rural areas, there are few options for the deaf and even fewer options for advancement.
"Many deaf people don't even know sign language," says Joseph Mbulamwana, the Information Officer of Uganda national Association of the Deaf (UNAD). They just communicate through basic gestures and signs agreed upon with their families and communities, but are unable to express themselves.]
Prone to Aids
One of the biggest challenges this leads to is teaching about HIV/Aids where most information is obtained through the sense of hearing. "They're talking about Aids in taxis, in bars, on radio programmes, on TVs," said Ndeezi.
None of these modes of communication are available to most deaf people. While figures are not available as to how many deaf people are either afflicted by or have died from Aids, everyone agrees that the deaf community especially is at risk.
"Many deaf girls face the added risk of being raped and that's how they get Aids," said Mbulamwana.
When deaf people see educational and awareness posters and pamphlets, "they look at the photos and ask, 'what is happening?'" Mbulamwana adds. While at one point UNAD planned to produce either a simple video or pamphlets with very easy to understand illustrations, it's very hard to find funding for these things.
Neglected minority
Although there are many donors for Aids related projects, there are few donors for projects that specifically target Aids programmes that teach the deaf about the disease. "Even when they go to the doctor because they are sick," says Mbulamwana, "they couldn't communicate so the deaf die thinking it was witchcraft."
Edmond Turitwenka, 19, though born with Wardenberg Syndrome, a disease which made his eyes blue and impaired his hearing completely, is lucky since he is one out of the 10 percent of the deaf who got the opportunity to go to school. While he wants to be a pilot or an engineer, he also wants to counsel the deaf about Aids. "My hearing friends learn more about Aids," he said through an interpreter. "But I have learned about it since primary school."
But most deaf students don't get a basic education. "Without access to education, there will be continued marginalisation," says Ndeezi, who laments the lack of dedication on the part of the government to the hearing impaired.
However, teachers and parents at the Ntinda School for the Deaf complain that Ndeezi isn't doing enough for them. He has never visited the school himself - one of only two in Kampala, and some teachers claim he underpays them.
Teacher salaries are a huge issue of contention for the deaf. Because teachers must obtain higher levels of training to work with deaf children, their pay should match their training. However, they often aren't even on government payrolls and make less money than teachers in other schools.
"While there is a University in Kyambogo that trains interpreters, because of the minimal salary, they don't have the courage or motivation to continue teaching the deaf," says Mbulamwana.
"On paper it's good, but in practice, it's another thing," said Edmond Musoke, the Deputy Headmaster for the Ntinda School for the Deaf. Even with interpreters, learning is still hard for the deaf. "I was always relying on second hand information," said Nassar Ssenyondo, 25, one of the first deaf students to ever attend Makerere University. "I always lose some percentage of the information, but I try really hard."
Victimised persons
It isn't just hard for the deaf child - it can be hard for the whole family. "It's not easy to raise these kids. You have to work hard," said Cissy Kaye, the parent of a deaf girl named Vivian. While Kaye took the time - and had the time - to learn sign language and help her daughter adjust, many parents don't.
At the Ntinda school, parents come every Wednesday for lessons in sign language so they can better communicate with their children, but not all parents can attend. Some children come from not only Ugandan villages, but also the surrounding countries of Rwanda, Tanzania, and Congo.
But other families don't understand the complexities of the hearing impaired.
"At times my family would shout and it would hurt my ears, but I don't blame them because they don't know deaf culture," said Ssenyondo. After he graduates from Makerere, he wants to become a social worker and advocate for people with disabilities. "Many deaf people lack interpreters but also the blind don't have guides," he said, explaining why he doesn't want to work exclusively with the deaf.
The deaf and disabled are the most often excluded by the Ugandan government, says Mbulamwana, who cites many programmes for equal opportunities for women and the poor and other disenfranchised groups, but points out that few if any programmes exist for the deaf. "Without a programme for all 528,000 deaf people," he says, "how shall we attain development?"
"90 percent of deaf people in Uganda cannot count from one to ten or sign their name. They are talking about HIV/Aids in taxis, bars, on radio and TV... None of these modes of communication is available to most deaf people."
Though there are about 528,000 deaf people in Uganda out of a population of 28 million, there are just five primary schools (two in Kampala and three outside the capital city) and one secondary school. for the deaf.
Against all odds: Children study at the Ntinda School for the deaf. Photos by Glenna G.
It's not surprising, then, that 90 percent of deaf people in Uganda cannot count from one to ten or sign their name, says Member of Parliament Alex Ndeezi, Chairperson of the Committee on Equal Opportunities. Most use their thumb print when they need to sign their name. Often born to hearing parents in poor rural areas, there are few options for the deaf and even fewer options for advancement.
"Many deaf people don't even know sign language," says Joseph Mbulamwana, the Information Officer of Uganda national Association of the Deaf (UNAD). They just communicate through basic gestures and signs agreed upon with their families and communities, but are unable to express themselves.]
Prone to Aids
One of the biggest challenges this leads to is teaching about HIV/Aids where most information is obtained through the sense of hearing. "They're talking about Aids in taxis, in bars, on radio programmes, on TVs," said Ndeezi.
None of these modes of communication are available to most deaf people. While figures are not available as to how many deaf people are either afflicted by or have died from Aids, everyone agrees that the deaf community especially is at risk.
"Many deaf girls face the added risk of being raped and that's how they get Aids," said Mbulamwana.
When deaf people see educational and awareness posters and pamphlets, "they look at the photos and ask, 'what is happening?'" Mbulamwana adds. While at one point UNAD planned to produce either a simple video or pamphlets with very easy to understand illustrations, it's very hard to find funding for these things.
Neglected minority
Although there are many donors for Aids related projects, there are few donors for projects that specifically target Aids programmes that teach the deaf about the disease. "Even when they go to the doctor because they are sick," says Mbulamwana, "they couldn't communicate so the deaf die thinking it was witchcraft."
Edmond Turitwenka, 19, though born with Wardenberg Syndrome, a disease which made his eyes blue and impaired his hearing completely, is lucky since he is one out of the 10 percent of the deaf who got the opportunity to go to school. While he wants to be a pilot or an engineer, he also wants to counsel the deaf about Aids. "My hearing friends learn more about Aids," he said through an interpreter. "But I have learned about it since primary school."
But most deaf students don't get a basic education. "Without access to education, there will be continued marginalisation," says Ndeezi, who laments the lack of dedication on the part of the government to the hearing impaired.
However, teachers and parents at the Ntinda School for the Deaf complain that Ndeezi isn't doing enough for them. He has never visited the school himself - one of only two in Kampala, and some teachers claim he underpays them.
Teacher salaries are a huge issue of contention for the deaf. Because teachers must obtain higher levels of training to work with deaf children, their pay should match their training. However, they often aren't even on government payrolls and make less money than teachers in other schools.
"While there is a University in Kyambogo that trains interpreters, because of the minimal salary, they don't have the courage or motivation to continue teaching the deaf," says Mbulamwana.
"On paper it's good, but in practice, it's another thing," said Edmond Musoke, the Deputy Headmaster for the Ntinda School for the Deaf. Even with interpreters, learning is still hard for the deaf. "I was always relying on second hand information," said Nassar Ssenyondo, 25, one of the first deaf students to ever attend Makerere University. "I always lose some percentage of the information, but I try really hard."
Victimised persons
It isn't just hard for the deaf child - it can be hard for the whole family. "It's not easy to raise these kids. You have to work hard," said Cissy Kaye, the parent of a deaf girl named Vivian. While Kaye took the time - and had the time - to learn sign language and help her daughter adjust, many parents don't.
At the Ntinda school, parents come every Wednesday for lessons in sign language so they can better communicate with their children, but not all parents can attend. Some children come from not only Ugandan villages, but also the surrounding countries of Rwanda, Tanzania, and Congo.
But other families don't understand the complexities of the hearing impaired.
"At times my family would shout and it would hurt my ears, but I don't blame them because they don't know deaf culture," said Ssenyondo. After he graduates from Makerere, he wants to become a social worker and advocate for people with disabilities. "Many deaf people lack interpreters but also the blind don't have guides," he said, explaining why he doesn't want to work exclusively with the deaf.
The deaf and disabled are the most often excluded by the Ugandan government, says Mbulamwana, who cites many programmes for equal opportunities for women and the poor and other disenfranchised groups, but points out that few if any programmes exist for the deaf. "Without a programme for all 528,000 deaf people," he says, "how shall we attain development?"