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But we don’t know what the future holds, so it makes sense to heed Maya Angelou’s sage advice to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
And we do, sort of. That’s why we have medical aid and life insurance, and we probably only do that because we are inundated with information about financial planning. But there’s more to a secure future than finances.
PLAN FOR THE WORST
We buy medical aid so that we can pay for unexpected medical expenses — preparing for the worst — but we design our houses in the blithe belief that we will always be able to run up stairs, or at least walk up them. That’s hoping for the best, sure, but it’s not preparing for the worst. So, here’s a question: Why do we build single-storey houses with steps leading up to the front door?
Here’s another question: Why do perfectly able-bodied people (or more accurately temporarily able-bodied people) use the ‘disabled’ toilets in public buildings? I can’t answer the first one, because the logic escapes me, but the second one is easy. People use the disabled toilets because the ‘normal’ ones are so badly designed. They look fine on the plans with enough room for the door to open and close — as long as there isn’t a person in there, especially if that person is wearing a backpack, carrying something, or accompanied by a toddler.
That’s because developers and architects tend to build to minimum standards. Sure, you can shave a few rand off the construction bill that way, but you also end up with a property that is only just okay — you know — complying with minimum standards. Now, would you build or buy a house with the cheapest flooring, a cardboard ceiling, the cheapest windows, chipboard countertops, and a single coat of paint on the walls? Nope. Of course not. And developers know that they can charge a premium for top-of-the-range doors, windows, flooring, countertops, and appliances. So, why do they skimp on space? Why don’t we build houses and public buildings to accommodate people who are less mobile?
IT MAKES SENSE FROM A BUSINESS PERSPECTIVE
The Disability Data Initiative (disabilitydatainitiative.org) data indicates that 8% of South Africans have some mobility impairment. Now you may think this will mean that 8% of the population will not be able to access your clubhouse, estate office, or even some of the homes on your estate. But it doesn’t. That 8% refers to 8% of individuals. Each of those individuals is part of a family, couple, or group of friends, so if they can’t access a place, their friends and family won’t go there either. Do you see how that decreases the size of your market? And there’s a lesson here. Almost everyone will — at some stage of their lives — be less mobile. Think twisted ankle, recovering from illness, trying to figure out how to manoeuvre the world with a brand-new first baby, and — of course — just simply getting older and a tad creaky. And perhaps even temporarily or permanently needing to use a wheelchair. So, it makes sense to plan for the worst — from a personal and business perspective, because the one thing you can be sure of is that things will change. You don’t know how they will change, but you know that they will change.
SHIFT HAPPENS
I recently met a man who underwent a pretty traumatic shift. Guy Davies was a big, rugged, petrol-head farmer who drove too fast, played a mean game of rugby, and didn’t shy away from hard physical work until a series of accidents and surgeries left him unable to use his legs. It was obviously devastating, but after the initial standard response of denial, anger, etc., he came to terms with the fact that he would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
He was fortunate to have a loving and supportive wife who pulled him through the worst moments and, together, they decided they wouldn’t let his dreams wither and die. He’d always loved fast cars, and he had no intention of slowing down, so he bought a Porsche 911 and had it specially adapted for hand control. And he doesn’t just drive it, he races it. Now, I drive a nice enough car, but I’ve never really understood the obsession with super-fast high-performance cars, so I was in for a bit of a learning curve when Guy drove me to our meeting.
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The first thing I noticed – or more accurately didn’t notice — was that he drove effortlessly, very politely, and — of course — within the speed limit. Except for a second or two when he overtook a car going uphill on Ou Kaapse Weg. That’s when I realised why people love high-performance cars. (If you know, you’ll understand; if you don’t, you wouldn’t even if I explained.) Yup, this car is pretty darn quick, and shift happens, as he so clearly demonstrated the following weekend at the Speed Classic Cape Town on Philip Kgosana Drive.
FAST AND FABULOUS
Guy had done a few amateur races when he was much younger, and still lived in the UK, so he accepted almost instantly when he was asked to race a specially adapted hand-operated Subaru GT in the Simola Hill Climb at the beginning of May this year. Sadly, the car wasn’t ready, so Guy suggested doing the race in his everyday car — the Porsche 911. He came third in his class with a time of 51.125 seconds for the 1.90-kilometre course. And his best time for the 1.8-kilometre Speed Classic Cape Town course was 49.67. That’s super-fast with a blistering 200 km/h top speed. Guy would be the first to admit that he races because he loves it, but he also races to help raise awareness of disability and accessibility issues.
IT’S NOT JUST ABOUT SPEED
Guy has experienced first-hand how hard it is to negotiate public spaces in a wheelchair. Even some wheelchair-accessible places present challenges with steep ramps, badly designed facilities, and cramped spaces. It’s not a problem with the regulations, he says, it’s the way they are (or are not) applied. Legislation requires that public buildings like offices, shops, and malls be accessible to people in wheelchairs, but not all comply. And of those that do, many provide the bare minimum.
It seems that the brief given to the architects was: ‘Do enough to make sure we don’t get sued.’ But, in many cases, the regulations are inadequately applied more from ignorance than lack of care, and that’s another reason Guy is so determined to get the story out there.
As well as being an advocate for people with disabilities and being the poster boy for the wheelchair boy racer, he consults on accessibility issues to engineers, architects, municipalities, property managers, and developers — anyone, actually, who wants to do things right. And that means planning for the worst, so that you can deliver the best. Even with the best intentions, it’s tricky, so if you want to get accessibility right, contact Guy: guy@dissol.co.za.
