A riddle about wheelchairs
The other day I was talking to some colleagues about the provision of tour services in the Kyrgyz Republic for the disabled. In particular, we were discussing wheelchair access. The situation in Kyrgyzstan is not very good … it is not exactly “wheelchair friendly”. Many buildings have built into their facades steps … and ramps are few and far between. When we built the Silk Road Lodge we put one in – but in Naryn, (where the guesthouse is based on a renovated block of flats), it just wasn’t possible. The existing architecture doesn’t allow for it. I’ve even looked into how the Americans with Disabilities Act works – and can’t see a solution.
During the discussion, one of them made an observation about how many wheelchair bound invalids are stuck in their flats “on the fifth floor of the apartment block” for most of the day.
This posed a riddle to my enquiring mind … why is it better for an invalid to live in a large tower block of flats than in a small one?
The answer is very simple … the building regulations here are such that any building more than fuive storeys high has to be fitted with a lift. Five storeys or less – no lift. Knowing how expensive lifts are … it’s not all that surprising that they are not installed if not absolutely necessary.
I remember when I first came to Bishkek, I lived on the top floor of a five storey building. There was no need to install a lift – so there wasn’t one. Everyday, several times a day I climbed or descended five flights of stairs. At least it provided me with some daily exercise and helped to keep me fit.
I now live on the second floor of a two storey building … (the first floor to the English who number the floors in a different way to the rest of the world). My thoughts then passed to my next door neighbour of eight years. About ten years ago she was involved in an accident and broke her spine. Now paralysed she is confined to her bed – except for those times when she is able to push herself, (or to be pushed), in a wheelchair. The wheelchair grants her some mobility – but it is not without its own problems. For one thing: it cannot solve the problem presented by the stairs.
When her relatives want to take her out for the day then first a car draws up in the yard outside the front door. Then the wheelchair is folded up and placed in the back of the vehicle. Finally someone is delegated to carry her down the stairs and sit her in in the car. How dignified. Unfortunately, it seems to be “par for the course” here.
She faced another problem a couple of weeks ago. I climbed the stairs to discover her, somewhat distraught on the landing. One of the small guide wheels on the front of the chair had twisted and the bolt come loose. The wheel lay on its side at her feet. She could do nothing except sit and wait. Of course, I got some instruments and replaced it so that she could move again.
A lift may be a boon to a wheelchair bound invalid, but it doesn’t solve all the problems they face.
I was reminded of the press reports from the UK earlier in the year about the plight of the residents in an Old People’s Home, (please excuse the “politically incorrect term). Apparently the lift broke down on Christmas Eve, and after several months of standing idle, it had still not been repaired. The residents who lived in rooms on the top floor of this modern, three storey, building were stranded in their homes all this time. Not only were they elderly, (or else they wouldn’t have been residents, would they?), they were also frail and lacked mobility without the aid of wheelchairs or walking frames – and so could not use the stairs which formed their only remaining access with the outside world
The staff at the home, their relatives and friends did not forget them. They came to visit – and entertainments were arranged. Birthday parties were heldf in the corridors and on the landing. What must have seemed like “fun” must have palled with the passing of time. Although not actually deprived of contact with other humans, this was little compensation for the lack of freedom and the opportunity to escape the confines of the same four walls – day in and day out. Like a prisoner incarcerated in a gaol. In fact, worse than that … a prisoner, even in the most extreme regimes is only usually contained under lock and key for 23 hours of the day, and are permitted to stroll in the open air, exercise and associate with others for the remaining hour.
Also, in times of extreme emergencies, for example a fire or an earthquake, the lift cannot help – indeed it is “off limits”.
Even worse, perhaps, might be to be in the lift at the time it breaks down – and having to wait in a small enclosed space, hanging by a thread, for the engineer to arrive, diagnose the problem and rectify it. (Not just anybody can “meddle” with a lift, the controls or the mechanics. There are very stringent regulations that are strictly enforced – so that only a suitably qualified engineer can do so). The smaller the lift: the bigger the problem. The British comedian Tony Hancock managed to make light of such a situation … but humour be a cruel thing … especially for the victim who is the “butt of the joke”.
Sometimes, it is hard not to have sympathy with a former Prince of Wales who, (in a different context), once said: “Something must be done!”
Bishkek