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22 September 2022 | Story Kelebogile Olivier | Photo Supplied
Kelebogile Olivier
Kelebogile Olivier, Criminology Lecturer and Secretary of the University of the Free State Women’s Forum

Opinion article by Kelebogile Olivier, Lecturer in the Department of Criminology, and Secretary of the University of the Free State Women’s Forum.
The World Federation of the Deaf declared September to be Deaf Awareness Month in the 1950s. The Deaf Federation of South Africa (DeafSA) and the South African National Deaf Association (SANDA) both promote awareness of the rights of Deaf persons in South Africa. During Deaf Awareness Week, deaf people are highlighted for their accomplishments and challenges (Deaf Awareness 2022) There growing is awareness about hearing loss, deafness, Deaf culture, and sign language. By understanding deafness and the culture of the deaf community, hearing people can better understand deafness. This year's theme is Building Inclusive Communities for all through the promotion of deafness, Sign Language, and Deaf culture. This piece is a personal reflection of my experiences as a parent of a child who has hearing loss.

Access South African Sign Language as a medium of education 

The education of deaf and hard-of-hearing learners is influenced by several factors both negatively and positively. The lack of Deaf role models for deaf learners, the lack of recognition of South African Sign Language (SASL) as a Language of Learning and Teaching (LOLT), and the lack of fluency in SASL among teachers are some of these factors (Magongwa, 2010). 

The education system is considering bi-modal communication. However, the challenge is finding schools where sign language is taught. A school such as Carel du Toit special school in Bloemfontein has a vision to teach spoken language and support children with hearing impairments. Therefore, it does not offer sign language as a language of education.

Baritimea School for blind and hearing-loss children is an alternative school situated outside Bloemfontein which teaches sign language. One thing about this school is that the kids learn sign language and are confident in their communication. It has an excellent teaching and learning vision which it has managed to actively reach. 

The use of sign language in South Africa has advanced greatly. South African Sign Language (SASL) is set to become the 12th official language of the country after government regulations were passed recently. SASL will now be recognised by the Department of Basic Education as a home language and part of the national school curriculum in grades R-12 under the gazetted amendment. This means that deaf learners will now be able to select SASL as a home language in schools. The department has also made amendments on the passing criteria for learners who select SASL as a home language in schools.

As SASL is the first language for most members of the deaf community, these positive changes will significantly impact learners’ ability to excel in school. “This Regulation is called the Amendment Regulations pertaining to the National Curriculum Statement Grades R-12, 2022 and will come into effect on the date of publication in the Government Gazette.” A growing number of South Africans are fluent in the language, and this will ultimately lead to a more inclusive language and a greater appreciation of deaf culture.

Firsthand experience and the rollercoaster of parenting a child with hearing impairment

I found out about my son’s hearing impairment in the middle of 2018, based on pure maternal instinct. I took the decision to have him assessed by a speech therapist believing he had a simple speech problem. In that initial assessment, it was confirmed that the problem was not speech but that he has severe hearing loss. So began the journey to what felt like a million tests and hospital visits. That year alone my son was under anesthesia more than four times.

Initially, he was fitted with hearing aids, which medical aid did not cover. Other costs included an unbudgeted R30 000 the audiologist charged for the devices. He had grommets fitted by an ENT, his hearing was tested while under anesthesia, and his hearing was tested various times until hearing aids were confirmed not to be the best option for him. 

Due to the severity of his hearing loss, towards the end of 2018, a decision was made to fit him with cochlear implants. With all this technology, a weekly speech therapy appointment, constant mapping, and regular audiograms, we were well on the way to a speaking child. Unfortunately, despite implants, the speech progress was delayed.

Personal interaction with the deaf community 

My first experience of deaf communities and the challenges they face daily in simply trying to communicate and navigate a world that is designed not for them began in my undergraduate year module, introduction to sign language. Although some communities, organisations, and institutions of higher education have tried to move toward inclusivity, one does not need to look too deep to notice that the world is not designed for people with any type of impairment, especially in developing nations.

My experience of the deaf community felt like a mere drop in the ocean when 10 years post my undergraduate learning, I could not engage in a conversation with a deaf person. My limited experience and knowledge of deafness and the community were emphasised when my son was diagnosed with severe hearing loss. I realised there is so much to learn and navigating deafness is sometimes a lonely space, until you find even just one person to help you into the deaf society.

We are now considering bi-modal communication. In addition to working on his speech and hearing, we plan to use sign language to support it, especially for educational purposes. Although progress has been made towards inclusivity, we still have a long way to go.

Positive school experiences for deaf or hearing-impaired children

Deaf children should have the same experiences of schooling as every other child in the country. A clean school, a bright and safe playground, and access to sports facilities at the school. This alone would make a difference in how they experience the world as deaf and hearing-impaired children. Rather than the frustration they face daily, they need to have hope that this world will improve. Their safe spaces should at least be exactly that, safe! 

News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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