Dr. Donatilla Kanimba: A journey of resilience and advocacy for the visually impaired

For more than three decades, Dr. Donatilla Kanimba has been at the forefront of advocating for the rights of the disabled and impaired – not just in Rwanda, but also in Kenya, where she spent a significant part of her life as a refugee before returning to Rwanda in 1996. When you speak of the rights of persons with disabilities, her name is well-known both in and outside Rwanda, not just as an advocate, but also as someone who has lived through difficulties and who doesn’t want anyone else in a similar predicament to endure what she went through. Her commitment stems from a deep desire to ensure that no one else faces the hardships she endured. Even today, at an advanced age, as she heads into retirement, Kanimba believes that retirement is just a formality but her work to build a more inclusive society will continue until people understand that ensuring persons with disabilities enjoy their basic rights is not a favour or charitable act, but a right. ALSO READ: Over 400 visually impaired acquire life skills In an interview with The New Times, at the Masaka Resource Centre for the Blind (MRCB) office in Kicukiro District, Kanimba delved into what life as a fully blind person has been like, which is one of the main reasons she set out to make a difference so that no one else would endure the same difficulties she faced growing up. Born in Commune Kibirizi, now part of Gisagara District in the Southern Province, in 1958, Kanimba endured a difficult childhood, with her parents fleeing the country to Burundi in 1961, along with many other Rwandans who escaped persecution at the time. In fact, it could be said that her loss of sight is, in one way or another, a consequence of the bad politics in Rwanda at the time, where many Tutsi families were persecuted and hounded out of their properties, forcing them into exile starting in 1959. Had it not been for that, perhaps she could have received early treatment to save her sight, but that was not the case, as life took a turn for the worse when her family fled Rwanda into Burundi. As though fleeing her motherland wasn’t enough, her father died shortly after, forcing some of her siblings to drop out of school, and she also lost her sight at the tender age of five. Fortunately, her resilient mother picked herself up and ensured that Kanimba and her siblings received an education. This eventually led her to Kenya, still as a refugee, to pursue her studies, as Kenya was slightly more advanced in special needs education than its neighbours. Kanimba recalls well when she lost her sight due to a condition that could have been easily treated or reversed, but her refugee status meant that there was little claim she could make, leaving her fate to charity. “I lost my sight in a missionary hospital in Burundi, at Ibuye. I went to Kenya for my education, from primary to university, after which I worked in Kenya for 10 years before coming back to Rwanda,” says Kanimba as she begins to narrate her story. ALSO READ: Braille bible launched to enhance accessibility for the visually impaired In Kenya, with the support of the Church Missionary Society of the Anglican Church, she was admitted to a boarding school for the blind, known as Thika Girls School, along with two other Rwandan children who also had visual impairments. Kanimba was fortunate to receive educational sponsorship from organizations such as the Christian Children's Fund and the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) until university, where she studied sociology and governance. After graduating in 1984, Kanimba got a job with a government ministry in Kenya as a social development officer, but her joy was short-lived when, two years later, it was discovered that she was not a Kenyan national. That marked the beginning of her being side-lined and discriminated against. “They decided that the job I was holding did not require an expatriate. There was no need for a foreigner in that job, so my contract had to be terminated,” Kanimba recalls. She then decided to pursue teaching, taking a job at Kangubiri Girls High School in what is now Nyeri County, central Kenya, where she taught different subjects, including history, Christian Religious Education, and later a new subject called social education and ethics. After six years of teaching, in 1994, Kanimba got a job with the Kenya Union of the Blind (KUB), an organization advocating for the rights and inclusion of the blind in Kenya, as the women’s programs coordinator. It was during her time at KUB that she met Dr. James Ndahiro, and they discussed starting a similar organization in Rwanda, which led to the creation of the Rwanda Union of the Blind in 1995. Kanimba shared a similar vision with Dr. James Ndahiro, who had lost his sight during the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF-Inkotanyi) liberation struggle, to establish an organisation advocating for the rights and education of the blind in Rwanda. At the time, she had yet to return to Rwanda, as she still held a UN refugee document, but eventually, she returned to Rwanda in 1996 to join forces with Ndahiro, who became the president of the union, while Kanimba took on the role of secretary-general. Integration and inclusion over charity For more than three decades, Kanimba and Ndahiro have been engaged in advocating for the blind and persons with disabilities (PwDs) to be included in society and to support their own integration. Kanimba’s vision is to ensure that PwDs see themselves as part of society and do not expect charity or hand-outs. That starts with ensuring they are given the same basic rights as anyone else, allowing them to thrive. “We don’t want to be seen as people who always expect charity. We want to be seen as part of society, and get everything because it’s our right, not because people feel sorry,” she says. “Whatever the government provides for everybody else, it must be provided for people with disabilities as well, and according to their needs,” she adds. ALSO READ: When the visually impaired became guides Growing up, Kanimba knows well what it meant to study in a system that was not fully inclusive, often finding herself in situations where, even when materials were available in schools, they were not fully utilised. Even in Kenya, where she pursued her education, many times she felt that teachers were not doing enough to support disabled children or children with impairments, often giving them the bare minimum. For example, in Kenya, she discovered that the only subjects, blind children were taught were reading and writing in braille, with no effort made to teach them other skills, such as drawing in lessons like geometry in math—skills that could be key for a child’s success. It was either negligence or a lack of training for the teachers themselves. There were braille drawing tools that blind children could use to draw shapes, but these were often left out. Similarly, in other subjects like Geography and Biology, teachers often omitted the drawing components, assuming that blind students couldn’t draw or read maps. However, that assumption wasn’t true. “It was a very good school academically, but as a blind child, there were things we were told were out of the question,” she says, adding that they missed many practical lessons due to the belief that blind children couldn’t participate. “We were taught by a teacher who had lost part of his sight as a child. He went to a primary school for the blind but then got treatment, and one eye was completely restored, so he went to a sighted secondary school,” she says. “Luckily, he was the Deputy Headmaster of our school and the biology teacher. Sometimes he would draw figures for us that had been indicated, like those which were left out for blind students because they were believed to be unable to understand them,” Kanimba recalls. The teacher realized that blind students could draw and follow along like other students when given the right tools. He applied the same method to biology experiments and science practical lessons. They eventually realised that all blind students needed was a little help and guidance to do things using their other senses. Her class was the first to complete biology practical exams in national exams, albeit with slight alterations. Later, the Ministry of Education removed these practical exams and introduced human biology, believing blind students couldn’t handle the practical aspects. This was because they assumed blind students couldn’t perform tasks such as drawing or dissecting things. These challenges made it difficult for Kanimba to pursue science courses as she had hoped, so she settled for literature, history, and Christian Religious Education (CRE) at A’ Level. Because Thika Girls High School for the blind did not offer advanced level courses, Kanimba had to attend a sighted school, what would be called a regular school. “That’s when I was introduced to the challenges of being blind in a sighted world. Everything I received, all the materials, were in print, and there was no arrangement for someone to read to me,” she recalls. “The only equipment I had to assist me was a typewriter, my Perkins braille, and a cassette recorder, which I had to find,” Kanimba says. She raised the complications she would face and the school agreed to provide braille paper and also loan her a small typewriter, as she had learned to type in the school for the blind. “I could type my answers to the questions for the teachers to mark, but I wrote my notes in braille and had to convince my classmates to read the print books for me so I could make notes,” she says. “I was able to keep up with the other students, and I passed my exams,” she adds. She was admitted to Nairobi University in 1980, but even there, challenges remained. “I had to walk 20 minutes from the hall of residence to the university. For someone who knows Nairobi, I had to walk from Mamlaka Road, cross Kenyatta Avenue, go around a big roundabout, and continue until I reached University Way, then walk up to the gate of the university,” she recalls. After her first year, which coincided with the decade for persons with disabilities, aimed at raising awareness about the challenges PwDs face globally, the university provided transport for all students with disabilities. “That was my saviour because I had tried to walk that distance a number of times and realized it would be very difficult to do so alone,” she says. However, her joy was short-lived when one university staff member told her the vehicle was meant only for people with physical disabilities. “I had to go to higher authorities in the university to plead that I be allowed to use the transport. I was eventually allowed,” Kanimba says. All of these challenges were a consequence of her refugee status, as some rights were denied when it was revealed she was a foreigner. She even lost a few years after completing her A Levels because she couldn't get a government scholarship despite passing her national exams. In her second year, she lost nearly a year after the University of Nairobi was suspended following an attempted coup in 1982. Some students had participated in the political turmoil, prompting the government to temporarily close the renowned institution. “I completed my university studies in 1984. I should have finished in 1983, but I completed in 1984,” she says, adding that another challenge she faced was not being able to major in her favourite subject, literature, because it required extensive reading from the second year onward. “My best subject would have been literature. I had managed to get an offer for a 3-1-1 in literature, meaning that from my second year until my third year, I would focus solely on literature,” she explains. “In my second year, I had to read 40 books in literature, ranging from plays to poems, novels, political texts, and sociological books,” she recalls, pointing out that it would have been difficult, as she needed someone to read all those books and commentaries aloud to her. Kanimba says the volume of reading was overwhelming, especially with no resources to support her. As a result, she decided to switch to sociology. Sidelined at work After completing her university studies, Kanimba joined the workforce, starting at a government ministry in the social services department. However, it was soon discovered that she was a foreigner. Although she was not dismissed from her job, she was no longer assigned work and was constantly moved from one position to another. Eventually, she was transferred from the ministry to a training institute for persons with disabilities, which was also under the ministry. Three weeks into her new role, she realised that she did not have a clear job description. She decided to return to the ministry, where she spent two years without any clarity on her role. At one point, a new ministry employee approached her with a proposal: since she was fully sighted and had more experience, they could work on assignments together. They collaborated on research regarding new courses for the Industrial Rehabilitation Centre (IRC). Upon completing the assignment, her colleague included her name in the reports. However, her supervisor was displeased with her contribution—seemingly because she was a foreigner. She later learned that someone had gone through the ministry files and erased her signatures from reports and documents she had worked on, after she was relieved of her duties. ALSO READ: UNDP donates smart white canes to visually-impaired people “At the time, I was very naïve. I didn’t realise that I was in a place where I was not wanted,” Kanimba says, adding that despite her hard work, she was denied opportunities for training and promotion, unlike her colleagues who had joined the ministry at the same time. Eventually, she was given notice to leave the ministry on the grounds that she was a foreigner, which did not come as a surprise. “As soon as I left, someone who had worked with me in the ministry told me that they retrieved all the files and used white-out to remove my signatures. I don’t know why,” Kanimba recalls. After leaving the ministry, where she had worked from December 1984 to December 1985, she applied for teaching jobs. She secured a position at Kangubiri Girls’ School as an untrained teacher. Despite her lack of formal training, her students excelled in Christian Religious Education (CRE). “I can say that I did well in teaching,” she says. Returning home In 1996, after completing her tenure at KUB, Kanimba decided to return to Rwanda permanently. She had previously visited her family, who had also returned from Burundi, where they had lived as refugees. During this time, she also explored the possibility of starting a union—an idea conceived in 1994. Many challenges needed urgent attention, particularly regarding the rights of people with disabilities, especially in education. At the time, only a small number of blind or visually impaired children had access to education at HPV Gatagara. Even then, their options were limited. The only available courses were in massage therapy and kinesiotherapy, regardless of their academic abilities in other subjects. Additionally, they could not sit for national exams. A few graduates were occasionally assisted in finding jobs, but it was not enough. More needed to be done to ensure the full integration of persons with disabilities. Together with Dr. James Ndahiro, Kanimba worked tirelessly to ensure that blind children, as well as children with other disabilities, were given the opportunity to sit for national exams and pursue further education. Their advocacy efforts, even while she was still travelling between Rwanda and Kenya, led to a breakthrough: in December 1995, the first group of blind students sat for their national exams. This was a major milestone, especially considering that, at the time, the government was focused on rebuilding the country and had many pressing priorities. No one was readily willing to commit resources to special needs education. ALSO READ: GBV activists call for inclusivity of people living with disability Starting from scratch, they reached out to like-minded partners and donors who provided support in various ways. Their mission was clear—to eliminate discrimination. Retired but not retiring Kanimba firmly believes that blind students do not need separate schools. Instead, conditions should be adjusted to allow them to study alongside other children, demonstrating that blindness is not the end of life. This mission remains at the heart of her work, even though she officially retired this January. Her commitment to the inclusion and integration of blind people and other persons with disabilities (PwDs) continues, despite no longer holding office. “There is still a lot to be done in terms of inclusion, especially for people with multiple disabilities, such as visual and hearing impairments,” she explains. “The same applies to people with these conditions who also have autism or Down syndrome,” she adds, emphasising that these cases require extra effort, specialised teaching skills, and resources that are often scarce. For this reason, Kanimba remains dedicated to the cause, knowing that much work still lies ahead. A significant part of her advocacy now involves influencing policies to ensure that the needs of persons with disabilities are not overlooked. “My retirement has officially begun. I’m still working because I’m finalising my handover, but I’m no longer on the payroll,” she says. However, before she fully steps away, she wants to see meaningful change. “I would like to see the government planning for all citizens,” she says, stressing that people with disabilities do not need special treatment or charity. Instead, they need a society where they are fully recognised as equal members. “Our vision is to improve the lives of persons with visual impairments and bring them to the same level as sighted individuals,” she states. She believes this can only be achieved through education and rehabilitation programmes that empower them. “This can only happen if all national plans consider that some people are blind, some are deaf and blind, and others have intellectual or physical disabilities. We must plan for all of them,” she emphasises. “We should ensure that all of them live in Rwanda as Rwandans and have access to the services they need—not because they were lucky to be noticed by a church or an organisation, but because it is their right,” she asserts. Even as she transitions into retirement, Kanimba—who has never married—believes she still has the time and energy to dedicate to the cause. While she remains a member of the union she co-founded, she is also prepared to continue her work at a personal level.

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Dr. Donatilla Kanimba: A journey of resilience and advocacy for the visually impaired