Born into a boisterous family of eleven in Nigeria, I danced through childhood amidst laughter and sibling squabbles. But school was a battleground. At four, I entered the classroom, chubby and pint-sized, a magnet for bullies who taunted me with “short girl”, “dwarf” and “fat with a big backside.” Yet, as I sprouted upwards, those same tormentors fell silent. By 15, I graduated secondary school with newfound confidence, Then, 1995, in my sophomore year in a tertiary institution, fate struck like harmattan winds. Typhoid fever ravaged me, and medication’s brutal overdose silenced my world – I became deaf.
Barely two months after losing my hearing, I faced a new wave of challenges that seemed insurmountable. The world around me had changed, and people’s views had taken a drastic turn. My disability had stripped me of my dignity and future in their eyes. But I refused to be defined by their limitations.
One incident still haunts me – an elderly man proposed to make me his fifth wife, claiming he wanted to “help” me. Though I rejected him outrightly, it remained embedded in my memories as many more degrading incidents followed. It seemed like everyone had given up on my future, except for myself. I held onto my faith in myself, knowing I was worth more than what society offered.
A moment of anger and determination stands out – when an old man touched me inappropriately, and I slapped him across the face. My parents rushed in, and for a moment, I saw understanding and support in their eyes.These experiences revealed the deep-seated negative views of the girl child in our society, worsened by disability. But I refused to let these challenges define me. Instead, they fueled my determination to rise above and create a future of my own. I knew I was more than my disability, more than what society saw me as – I was a force to be reckoned with.
At the polytechnic’s where I was a student before my disability, a crushing verdict was given: “withdraw and return when hearing returns”. But I refused to be silenced. With unwavering resolve, I pushed forward, I devoured American Sign Language, immersed myself in Deaf culture, and emerged as a fierce advocate for myself and others, shattering accessibility barriers determined to make my mark on the world.
Six years later, the Federal Ministry of Education intervened, paving my path back to school. Yet, the job market proved a minefield. Rejections piled up, deafness was my crime. I will never forget Hon. Ossai Monday Ossai, a member of State House of Assembly representing my LGA who mocked my disability and sent me out of his office in 2006, declaring: “I have no job for a deaf person”. His words still echo, but I didn’t falter.
Abuja beckoned – a new frontier. With nothing but determination, I baked snacks at government gates, surviving on grit. Then, a blind mentor, Madam Victoria Akintaro, whispered of a job opening. “God is with you,” she said. At that Federal Agency, Hajia (Barr.) Jamilah Hamza, the first face I met, championed my appointment. For over 15 years, I have fought from within, pushing for Disability-Inclusive education, equal employment, healthcare, and decision-making.
This Deaf Awareness Month, I scream from the rooftops: sign language must infiltrate school curricula! Bridging that communication chasm is non-negotiable. Thankfully the passage of the Disability Bill is such a huge relief and a giant leap forward, however, the Disability Act should be seen as a work in progress that requires periodic amendment to make it whole. My story pulsates with Deaf strength, beauty, and resilience. I salute those who uplifted me – Mr. Solomon Okwose, Dr. Suleiman Adeoye, Madam Akintaro, Hajia Hamza – and those like Hon. Ossai, who fueled my fire.
Today, not only have I had a thriving career in Federal Civil Service, I am also a strong disability rights advocate, a human rights defender, and a conflict resolution specialist with a degree in Peace and Conflict Resolution and M.Sc degree in the same field.
My story is a testament to the strength and resilience of individuals with disabilities. Join me, fellow Nigerians! Let’s sculpt a society where every individual thrives, deaf or hearing, with or without disabilities, with quality healthcare, opportunities, and inclusivity echoing the persons with disabilities mantra: “Nothing About Us Without Us”, we will dismantle discriminatory walls. Together, we will compose a symphony of inclusion, where every note resonates with dignity, every beat pulses with empowerment. Let’s make that difference, Nigeria!
Uche Henrietta Uwadia a disability advocate wrote this piece from Abuja
