A Wheelchair Gift (Digital Download)
We have come across a few street children on the streets who are disabled. They don’t have wheelchairs so they have to crawl on the streets using their elbows to get around. They deserve the dignity of a wheelchair. The gift of a wheelchair will pay a contribution towards a wheelchair for a disabled child living on the streets.
We have come across a few street children on the streets who are disabled. They don’t have wheelchairs so they have to crawl on the streets using their elbows to get around. They deserve the dignity of a wheelchair. The gift of a wheelchair will pay a contribution towards a wheelchair for a disabled child living on the streets.
We have come across a few street children on the streets who are disabled. They don’t have wheelchairs so they have to crawl on the streets using their elbows to get around. They deserve the dignity of a wheelchair. The gift of a wheelchair will pay a contribution towards a wheelchair for a disabled child living on the streets.
How your gift has helped Laughter Africa children in the past:
Currently at Laughter Africa we have 9 disabled young people; 3 of them use wheelchairs, 2 are mute, 2 only have one eye and two have problems with walking (but do not need a wheelchair).
One girl we gave a wheelchair to is Fatmata. Fatmata lives with a disability that means she cannot walk although she does not let this define her, she lives life to the fullest - she especially loves to dance. We would quote the cliche 'dance like no-one is watching', but when Fatmata dances everyone stops to watch and join in the fun she brings.
To see Fatmata dancing, please visit here.
We met Fatmata living on the streets when she came to our mobile project in Portee in 2021. Here’s her story:
“My name is Fatmata and I am 19 years old. My mum died of Ebola. I don’t know where my father is. The last time I saw him he denied me and told me that I wasn’t his daughter. All my family have rejected me because of my disability. The only person who will let me live with them is my Grandma. I used to crawl on my hands for hours to go on the streets as my granny didn’t have money so I would beg to get money for food.
I feel like I am invisible to people. They don’t see me. They just see my disability and think I am a fool. People provoke me. People beat me and slap me as they know that I can’t fight back. My name on the wharf is the Temne version of millipede, “Nitoro.” They just call me a cripple and treat me like I am not important. I can’t fight back cos of my disability. I am an easy target."
Despite this provocation and persecution, Fatmata still has a heart of gold. She came to the Interim Care Centre in May with a list of about 20 names of street children in her community who she wants us to help saying, “Five 0 (my nickname) you helped me go to school. There are so many street children in Portee now. You need to help all the others too. They are suffering.” It takes her over two hours to get here from Portee but she still made that sacrifice for people she barely knows where she doesn’t get anything in return. Empathy shines out from her. We are very proud of her and her kindness to others. It has been an honour to support Fatmata over the last three years and we are happy to confirm that we have just paid JSS1 (the equivalent of year 7 in the UK) for her at a new school.
One boy we gave a wheelchair too was Abdul. We first met Abdul living on the streets 8 years ago when he was 10 years old. He is disabled and didn’t have a wheelchair. He would crawl on his elbows to get around the streets. He had never been to school, but had taught himself to read and write on the streets. He has an amazing foster family who really love him; their only complaint is he never sleeps – he is always studying. Abdul does not let his disability define who he is.
In January 2022, we provided Abdul with a brand new wheelchair. Sadly Abdul’s old wheelchair broke in October 2021 and ever since then his foster brother, Sahr Augustine, had been carrying him to school every day on his back. His school is not exactly round the corner either. Everyday Sahr Augustine did this without complaint dismissing any thanks as “he’s my brother- its what you do for your brother.” To say Abdul was delighted with his wheelchair would be an understatement, and although Sahr Augustine never complained we think he was secretly happy as well.
Abdul now has his independence back and can travel to school by himself. And it was worth it. Next year Abdul will sit the WASCE (the Sierra Leone equivalent of A-levels). He is one step closer of achieving his dream of becoming a lawyer.