Who was Handicapped?

Volunteering with handicapped adults a few weeks ago reminded me of a Global Volunteers service vacation (http://www.globalvolunteers.org) I took in 1999 to Ecuador. The service site was a day care center for poverty-level kids while their mothers sold toilet paper and burlap bags of corn on the street corners of Quito. Most of the kids had cerebral palsy (CP) – a consequence of untrained home birthing – and most were mentally challenged as well. As the ad-hoc recreation director, I let the kids play with water balloons one day on the dirt playground – a Tide commercial waiting to happen. The kids didn’t have the motor skills to hold onto the water balloons so most of the balloons dropped or broke within seconds, and watching the water explode in the dirt was part of the fun. In just a few minutes the circle of 12 or so kids was slathered head-to-toe with mud.

Then Miguel joined us. Miguel was challenged in several ways. He wore thick glasses and a hearing aid. CP left him more misshapen than most of the kids and he struggled to keep his balance when he walked. He fell down a lot in the mud and was completely slimed in it – and determined to chase down and grab each water balloon, no matter who else held it at the time.

All at once the game changed from “hot potato” to “keep away.” Miguel staggered toward the kid holding the muddy water balloon, his arms twisted across his chest and his body caked head to toe in mud. As he neared the water balloon, the kid holding it would panic at the incoming tower of sludge and toss the water balloon to someone, anyone, to avoid colliding with Miguel and his mud. Miguel would then hobble toward the next child, who would toss the water balloon to someone else. And so it went.

I watched in horror, empathizing with the hurt feelings, frustrations and pain that must have been searing through Miguel’s little soul. I felt shame, knowing this was all my doing, and helplessness as Miguel continued to wobble, fall and fail inside the circle of children.

Seconds before jumping in to stop the game and humiliation, I took a second look – and saw a happy circle of kids, all laughing with naïve joy. The nurses and assistants, standing in the background, were elated that the kids were having so much fun. And Miguel? He loved being the center of attention – and was having more fun than any other kid in the group.

Then in a BFO (that’s “blinding flash of the obvious”) moment – oh my gosh – I realized that these kids didn’t even know they were handicapped! How could they not know? Shouldn’t somebody tell them? Wasn’t it my responsibility to explain to them how cruelly they were treating Miguel – even though they didn’t mean to? Shouldn’t I tell Miguel that he didn’t deserve this kind of maltreatment, even if it seemed like fun?

Or … maybe I should just chill and let them continue with their innocent fun which, thankfully, I did. But even now, years later, I can’t help but wonder who was really handicapped that afternoon – them or me?

Get out and give back.

Jane Hess is a free-lance writer. You can send your comments to jane@getoutandgiveback.com