Interview: Fadila Lagadien, South African Activist
By William Rowland
Taking her lessons from the struggle years in South Africa, Fadila Lagadien has carried her activism into the boardrooms and negotiating chambers of our new democracy. However, she has some disturbing things to say about how things are today.
Fadila, you came into the disability rights movement by accident, and I mean that quite literally. Would you share with us that traumatic experience?
I was in a motorcar accident, a head-on collision. I was the only female and the only black person, with three white males, one of whom was my boyfriend John. The driver died on the scene, I broke my neck, and the other two had minor injuries, like broken legs, dislocations, and that sort of thing.
That was in 1986, and you know how it was in those apartheid years; to be found with a white guy was a terrible thing. He went to a white hospital and I had to go to a black hospital.
We were on our way to Sun City from Johannesburg. John was a telephone systems engineer at the casino there. The ambulance took us to the nearest hospital, in Rustenburg, but they wouldn't take me. They put a soft collar on my neck - bearing in mind that it was broken at the level of c4 - put me on a stretcher and left me in the passage, while they took John to the theatre to put pins in his broken leg.
This happened Saturday evening round about 9 o'clock. They drove me by ambulance to HF Verwoerd Hospital in Pretoria the following day, and I was lying in the passage on the stretcher all that time. I got to HF Verwoerd on Sunday afternoon round about visiting time.
That's where it really all started, because when I realised that the conditions where I was were very different from the conditions where John was... that's when I started making a noise through the newspapers and through my lawyer. You were one of the first people that came to visit me - a stranger out of the blue - having read these things in the newspaper. I didn't know at the time who you guys were, but when I got out of hospital and got my life started again, I began looking for other disabled people and a movement of sorts. I then realised that the people that came to see me were from the disability rights movement.
Authors Note: Fadila and I have different memories of our first meeting, perhaps complementary ones. DPSA, together with Lawyers for Human Rights, had just launched a new project called Discrimination Watch and as Chairperson I was the active agent. On learning that Fadila was being denied intensive care at the HF Verwoerd Hospital, where it was freely available to white patients, I decided to make an intervention, but we needed Fadila's consent to act on her behalf. Intensive care was extended to Fadila following a ruse to create the impression with the hospital superintendent that the State President was displeased with the situation.
Your homecoming must have been difficult. Would you tell us about that?
When I got out of hospital, I tried to resume my normal life as soon as possible, but wherever I went there were just major obstacles. First of all it was the structural barriers: I couldn't get into places - I couldn't get into my own flat, can you believe it? So that was my first rude awakening, with "Wow! What's going to happen here?"
That was on weekends when I went home... this big schlep up the stairs. John then found another flat and that was our first introduction to accessibility. And then I tried to do normal things, like shopping or going to the movies, and ninety percent of the places I just couldn't get into.
Then there were the attitudinal barriers. That started right in my family. Suddenly they treated me differently. I think they thought I couldn't think for myself and make decisions any longer. An example would be my sister then coming to stay with us. She would never ask me "What shall I cook?" She would just cook and then set it out for me to eat. She would never even say, "Do you want to come and cook with me today?" I was just there.
And you're a good cook, aren't you?
Oh, I am an absolutely wonderful cook... then I overheard my sister speaking to my aunt and saying: "You know, it's just easier if I do it and don't involve her." And I thought, "my God! Am I now so much of a burden?" And I would say to John, "Let me come and sit in the kitchen while you are preparing the meal." And he would say, "No, its okay, just sit on the couch. Do you want tea? Do you want this, do you want that?" And they would just fetch and carry, and it drove me nuts. I felt totally and utterly useless in every which way.
So what did you do?
I thought, no, this can't keep going on. And then I heard about someone called Kathy Jagoe doing something called "disability awareness". Although that was not what I wanted to do, I just knew that I wanted to tell people that I had not changed. So I scouted around and, obviously, I had your name somewhere because you had visited me in hospital, but as usual you were out of the country at the time. But I did get hold of Kathy and she told me about People for Awareness on Disability Issues (PADI), the organisation she started, and she told me about Mike du Toit - so you were the first three in my reference of a movement in South Africa.
Then I tried to get hold of Mike - this was all over the December period - and he was away fishing. He was just on holiday - and it seemed like a perpetual holiday. But when I eventually got hold of Mike, he said that you are the Chairperson of the movement and that I should be speaking to you, and he told me a bit about what DPSA does.
Kathy had moved to Cape Town and I was still in Johannesburg. I traced her and she came to my place and we met. My place was so inaccessible that we sat out in the driveway, because she couldn't come into the house. And she said: "Why don't you start in Cape Town - People for Awareness on Disability Issues? There's one in Jo'burg and I left it. I don't have time because I am setting up the disability unit at Cape Town University."
This was like a major task. She said: "Fadila, you know I'm going to support you." Which she did: she gave me all the materials and she put me in touch with Sandy Heyman, who was running the one in Jo'burg. We quickly got an organisation started. And PADI then grew, and grew, and grew. At that point there was very little other than Vukuhambe Self-help happening in Cape Town, and the Access Committee. PADI was the most regular, most visible thing in terms of disability.
What were the activities of PADI?
Newspaper interviews, radio interviews, and media articles; I did many articles in many magazines. I just kept trying to get the message out about disability.
I started really by talking about myself, telling my story. Then I began putting out articles calling for disabled people to join me in doing this awareness thing, and the response was phenomenal. It was unbelievable, the amount of people that came forward. So we had a group and next we went through some weekend training. I couldn't believe that there were so many disabled people out there, just sitting in their homes, stuck away.
After our training we started getting bookings for workshops, from schools, churches, universities, hospitals. And when I heard more about DPSA I did a similar thing, calling for people, and I started forming DPSA Western Cape.
The logical progression was to have some sort of publication. Because of what we found in our workshops, we just felt that we needed to do that. The magazine was called disABILITY - not such a negative name because of the way in which the word was written - the dis was small and the ABILITY was big. And I did lots of fundraising for PADI and DPSA. I was Jack, Paul, Arthur, Martha - all rolled into one. That's just who I am; I am very much the pioneering type. I cannot stay too long in one thing. I set things up and when they are good and solid, I move on and set up the next thing.
Coming now to DPSA: do you have any memories from those early congresses?
Oh yes, plenty! That has got to come back... I hate the way DPSA has restructured these conferences. I mean, it was a lot of fun. At the time we were aligned with the liberation movement that was happening in the country; so it was vibrant, very vibrant, in the things that we did, the campaigns that we put up, and the types of people we spoke to. It was just a different kind of movement then.
I think we are partly to blame: we believe that now, because we are a democracy, things are suddenly hunky dory - and they are not. We don't engage in protest action any longer, and I think that should still happen. That's what we did in the early congresses...that's what made them vibrant. That's what made us achieve the things that we did - such as the disability white paper, such as getting ourselves into all the policies.
I think you know, William, what happened then was a natural progression. From there we went to the elections. Remember how we were a bit confused, whether we should become a political party or stay a movement? Those are the kinds of things we discussed at the congresses. I mean, it was real, real stuff. It was meaty stuff. Now it's kind of cake and tea.
From there the natural progression again was to become involved in writing the legislation of the country, as it stands today. And I've been involved extensively in just about every single piece of legislation, through our activism.
A particular contribution of yours was in the writing of the Code of Good Practice under the Employment Equity Act...
That was my most recent task. Previously I was involved in many other pieces of legislation, including the Employment Equity Act which gives the Minister of Labour the right to call for a Code. DPSA formed a consortium and won the tender, and I was part of the multi-disciplinary group that wrote the Code. There were six of us and we divided ourselves up into teams of two and each would take specific sections. I wrote the parts on recruitment and selection, placement, and reasonable accommodation.
Through no fault of our own, it took about two years to complete the Code. It went through many stages, and phases, and processes with the Government and the Commission on Employment Equity. It is kind of launched in a draft form, and now we are writing the technical assistance guidelines.
Fadila, I wonder whether you can remember an incident in East London many years ago. We were sitting in a Combi along the beachfront somewhere and you were talking about the days of Apartheid. And then you said something that still haunts me today. You said: "When I was young and beautiful, I couldn't go on this beach; and now that I am allowed, I can't because of my disability."
I know exactly where we were... we were there for a DICAG conference - the Disabled Children's Action Group - and we were at Orient Beach, near the restaurant there. And as I looked out of the window and over the sea, I remembered with such, such nostalgia that this is where I was born and brought up. And never in those 27 years was I allowed to walk on that beach, let alone sit in the restaurant. I worked on the waterfront in various hotels and restaurants and I was only allowed to go on the sidewalk - not on the beach, not on the sand. And now that I can go there, I can't get to the water and the sand with my wheelchair.
That still keeps me away from East London... that's the ghost I have to deal with. There's nothing in East London for me; I have no lost love for the place. But it doesn't take away from the beauty of the city, the tranquility. I probably will go and retire there some day... but not yet.
Would you tell us a little bit more about those early years, before you became disabled?
I had to leave school before I even finished Standard Six (I must have been about 15 years old), because there was no money for school. We were quite poor and my dad took ill. I was the eldest in the house, and I had to go and step out and work. And I thought, okay, I'll do work and study.
And my first job... you know I will never forget this: I went the Monday morning and I said a little prayer, and I said, "God, you know I have to work, but if I don't get a job on this first day, then I know I am not meant to work, then I will go back to school."
The first place I walk in, I get a job. But did I cry! I just cried for joy for getting a job, and I cried because I can't break the promise that I just made.
So my first job was in a Wimpy Bar inside OK Bazaars (Wimpy's were not yet stand alones as they are today). From there I moved to the OK store itself, that's where I went. I tried doing evening studies, but it was a full day, with no energy left for anything else - and I dropped out.
And through the years I just worked at this job and that, but I stole a lot with my eyes. I let people make a lackey out of me - do this, do that. I never said no, because everytime I did something I learned something. And those were really my schooling years, until now, at the age of 42, I started formal studies doing an MBA with Liverpool University, just through them doing an assessment of prior learning.
You represent us on NEDLAC (the National Economic Development and Labour Council), don't you? What sort of work do you do there?
I've always represented DPSA at some level or another and this was just a natural progression from being in all the local stuff. NEDLAC was instated by Government to promote social dialogue between Government, business, labour, and civil society. At the beginning NEDLAC was just filled with men, half of whom were white, but the way the country was going, with equity and diversity, they decided to restructure themselves to get gender balance, racial balance, and disability, and so I came in, about five or six years ago.
Any policy or piece of legislation, before it goes to parliament, it comes to NEDLAC. We negotiate the contents between the parties - the Water Bill, the Housing Bill, whatever - every piece of legislation passes through NEDLAC. That gives us a wonderful opportunity to be involved, because the disability movement has equal status on NEDLAC. That's one of the big reasons we don't have a Disability Act; we are covered in every single piece of legislation, if not explicitly, then implicitly, because of our Constitution that outlaws discrimination on the basis of disability.
I have grown tremendously and learned an extreme amount. I've really been thrown in at the deep end. I don't know if you are aware, but I have just been nominated to be the overall convenor of the Community Constituency. So I'm right up there with the big guys!
Congratulations, that's a great achievement! But now I want to turn to matters personal and your business activities.
I'm sick and tired of fundraising and saying please give me, please give me, and just making it and just surviving. Now you know my involvement in all these pieces of legislation and policy writing... when we were busy with the affirmative action green paper I saw a business opportunity. I realised that diversity is here to stay, and employment equity in particular. But there's a gap: people have never had to employ disabled persons and they do not know how. And so I developed a model for the training and placement of disabled people in the open labour market. This model is not going to go into the NGO sector, but into the business world, because the potential to make money is huge.
And then I registered my company, Closing The Gap (CTG), because that's exactly what I want to do, to close the gap between disabled and non-disabled people. This is one of the reasons I am doing an MBA: being a woman, being black, being disabled, people in the business world don't take you seriously, especially if you don't have a piece of paper to show you have a qualification. Even if I could demonstrate proficiency, it means nothing. The MBA for me, in all honesty, is a walk in the park - there's nothing required that I haven't done before.
The one thing that was a bit difficult was quantitative statistical analysis, because I have never done maths - I told you I left school in Standard Six. It was total gibberish, but I got a C and it's just the most wonderful grade. I feel like its an A plus plus. So the reason I am doing this is to legitimise myself in the business world.
Who are your corporate clients?
I have many corporate clients. I started with Sanlam, which is the second largest insurance company in South Africa. Metropolitan was another, and I have done work for Santam - all insurance companies. I think the reason is that the insurance industry is the most ready to employ disabled people. And then I worked with Caltex and Shell, and several others; it's still growing.
What service do they want from you?
Consultancy. Because of the Employment Equity Act everybody is obliged to develop an employment equity plan. They need to audit their workplaces... see where the equity gaps are; where do they need women, disabled people, black people? It's like taking a snapshot of where the organisation is and then developing a plan for them to get where they want to be. Coupled to this is writing workplace policies on disability, reasonable accommodation, HIV/Aids. We do pre-employment assessment and post-employment support.
So you helped to write the legislation and now you make people pay for your advice?
Yes, now I am making money out of it. Can you get any cleverer than that? Although I must say there is not a huge willingness to pay for the service. I make the analogy that if I knock at your door and want to come into your house, you certainly are not going to pay me to come in, because you don't particularly want me there. But people are obligated through legislation - so I push that part a bit. So I play a dual role: I am still an activist and I could report them, but I am also a professional consultant using my persuasive abilities.
My MBA dissertation is going to be to build a business case for the employment of disabled people. It's not about charity, it's not about social responsibility, it's not about doing us a favour. It's showing businesses you can make more money if you employ disabled people. I don't want them to see it as their social responsibility, because then we are never gonna advance. We might enter into the workplace, but we will never advance.
Fadila, we've come a long way in the disability rights movement over the past twenty years. What for you have been the main achievements?
The biggest achievement was getting ourselves located in the President's Office. However, we still have to make that work for us. It's not working for us the way we intended it to. Having said that, the next biggest achievement for me would be that we have gotten ourselves as disabled people written into the Constitution of the country. I think we have one of the most progressive constitutions in the world and we are protected by the highest law of the country, but we haven't yet begun to test the Constitution, or the Equality Act that we have, to take anything to court.
And what are your feelings about the state of the disability movement today?
I think it's run out of steam. The gender movement went the same way. We had the opportunity to put disabled people into parliament and highly placed positions and a lot of our leadership went there, leaving the movement quite weak. Another reason is that personalities in the movement are not leading us the way we intended. There's a red thread that has to run through everything. We didn't haphazardly do these things; we had a plan, we had vision. And somehow the continuity hasn't been picked up by the new personalities.
It's a sad, sad day... recently, somebody in the movement said to me that I need to understand that I must separate my activism from my professionalism. I don't think I can do that. If that's the kind of thinking we have in the movement today, then we are desperately in need of change.
Then it is also the fundraising situation. Funding was easily available. We could go and do fundraising outside the country - it would come into our pockets - but now with bilaterals, government to government, all that has changed. And the instruments that we put there such as the Office on the Status of Disabled People, The Federal Council, The Thabo Mbeki Development Trust, all of these things, they're not working for us the way we intended for them to work.
Now whose fault is it? I think we are partially to blame. A lot of us just got tired, because you give so much of yourself, and then in the last three or four years things have just stagnated as new and other leaders came in. My own steam is bietjie uitgerun, but I can't separate myself from it. How do you put yourself to bed and say to yourself "just gonna stay there"?
To end with, please give us a glimpse into your family life.
My daughter Sholeen had just turned four when I had my accident. The last pictures we have of me walking are of her birthday party, and we've treasured those always. She has been such an inspiration to me through all this time that I've been disabled. She constantly tells me that she would have me no other way. My biggest fear on coming out of hospital was that my daughter was gonna reject me, and I couldn't have been more wrong. It's the thing that made me fight to survive.
A lot of the schools I got into with my awareness work were through her. She absolutely couldn't take it how kids teased each other: "You blindemol, you spaz," and that kind of thing. She said: "Mommy, I can't take this; come and talk to my classmates and tell them they mustn't speak like that about disabled people, or to each other." So at every school that she's been to, in every standard, I've given a talk. I've told my story. And it's a wonderful story. And it's not finished yet.
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