We are all disabled in some way

THE REAL GAMES: Strolling around the festival village enjoying the buzz were table tennis competitor Jonathan Sanders and gymnast…

THE REAL GAMES: Strolling around the festival village enjoying the buzz were table tennis competitor Jonathan Sanders and gymnast John R Ervin.

Both smiling athletes agreed enthusiastically with their coach and fellow Texan Phil D Hisey (and no, he wouldn't tell me what the 'D' stood for) when he said: "You all are the friendliest people we've ever met in our lives. I thought Texans were welcoming, but we don't hold a candle to you!"

Trista Kutcher, from South Carolina, has a day off from her artistic level 2 gymnastic competition. She's obviously tired, leaning against her father as they wait for a bus to take them back to her family in their hotel. Smiling pedestrians acknowledge and greet them as they walk by.

Her father explains: "Her schedule has been very busy. A day off will do her good. But we're all having a wonderful time - the people of Ireland are so kind and welcoming and unbelievably friendly." Time and time again, the same story is repeated by different people. It must be true.

READ MORE

Yet, despite this bonhomie, scratch the surface and our history, past and present, reflects that "being different" isn't accommodated very well in this country. Hostility, ridicule and rejection is often our reaction to overt and less emotive forms of "being different" Just look at our treatment of Travellers, emigrants and religious diversity.

And benign and kindly indifference towards the needs of people with disability is how we manifest our subconscious discrimination and fear of disability. Sure, a few euro in the collection box or a book of raffle tickets and we feel better about ourselves - but then we push away this uncomfortable subject without addressing any of the real concerns or issues.

Social constructivists argue that we learn to categorise others through cultural practice. Depending on the cultural messages we are taught by our elders and "betters".

We either accept "difference" or reject it. In the rigid Catholicism that dominated this country in previous generations we were taught, from the pulpit when it was considered necessary, to revere uniformity and reject difference. It's no wonder we're tainted by fear and suspicion. In order to change, to prevent this discriminatory and damaging trait being perpetuated in future generations, we need to educate our young to think openly and acceptingly of others.

The Special Olympics, as we are all beginning to learn, is not just about athletes and competition. It is a huge movement with diverse programmes that bring depth and breadth to their endeavours. For the last couple of years, its School Enrichment Programme has worked with schools and colleges around the country to educate and inform Irish students about the issues surrounding disability.

If anyone questions the effectiveness of this programme, they need only talk with a young friend of mine. Kelly Flanagan is eight and three-quarters and lives in Ringsend where she attends St Patrick's Girls National School on Cambridge Road. Kelly is a huge supporter of the Games and explained to me all the work she and her class have done with their teacher, Ms O'Dwyer.

"We've painted loads of pictures and they'e hanging up in the library for everyone. And every day we read books about people with disability and about people from different countries. Some days we even dress-up as people from another country. I'm going to be a Mexican next time," she said.

Halfway through our conversation, she became extremely indignant as she recounted the following story:

"I was out playing with my friend and we were talking about the Special Olympics. Two big boys ages about 10 heard us and said: 'Those people are rubbish and we can run faster than them.' I said: 'No you can't.' And they said: 'Yes, we can.' And then I said: 'Even if you can - that's not what it's for - it' to give people with disability a chance to show what they can do.'"

With that, she smirked: "They just went away after that." But she continued intently: "Anyway, we are all disabled some way. I can't play football or GAA, so that's my disability. And my cousin Paul had to get glasses, so that's his disability."

After a slight pause she added: "And I think those two boys are stupid even if they can run fast - so that's their disability."