“My family going Panama in August!” my friend exclaimed. Her jubilation was like a cold in a standard one classroom. Aggressive in transmission and near irresistible. I couldn’t help but blush and share in her joy. Her birthday was in early August and that would be quite the present.
“Wow, that’s really fantastic! Seems like everyone’s going Panama these days,” I responded, probably more excited than she was at this point.
But then seemingly out of nowhere, her disposition completely changed. The young lady who was as radiant and bubbly as a supernova a few seconds before had gone cold. Was it something I said? Alarm bells went off in my head, but then she started talking again, and panic transitioned to frustration.
“My aunt (who she lives with) said that it makes no sense I go because I can’t see anything.”
The temperature of the room dropped about 15 degrees. I had felt like someone slammed me in the stomach with the biggest stone they could find at the side of the road. I had previously been told, often out of exasperation, that I had an answer for everything, but in that moment, I was like Chat GPT. Clean out of tokens and couldn’t generate any new content.
I’ve heard this exact argument on so many occasions, both directed at me and others. For many people, basic experiences without sight and the enjoyment thereof is simply impossible to conceptualise. An absurdity on par with pigs flying or a bull being gentle in a China shop.
Many people forget that we were given four other senses with which to perceive and enjoy the world around us. In the case of my friend and her Panama trip, the second she disembarks the plane, her ears would be consumed by a symphony unlike anything in Trinidad. The unique flow and sound of Panamanian Spanish, or the powerful, authoritative horns of ships transiting the Panama Canal, and the low hum of their imposing power plants.
My friend, quite the foodie, I imagine, would go mad from the authentic and unique blend of herbs, spices, meats and other ingredients alien to a Trinidadian palate. Her sense of touch would be fascinated by the various textures and sensations of handicrafts, textiles, and even the feel of the pavement under her feet. Her nose too would share in the sensory buffet. The smell of the ocean, of the rainforests and even the Canal would be a poem to her olfactory receptors.
While all the experiences I listed are dandy, rather lovely even, there’s something which transcends all of that. Something that blind or sighted, young or old we all possess, and that’s the ability to build memories together as a family. The memory of staying in the hotel together, going out on the tour and memories so weird that you had to have been there to believe it happened at all. There’s something special and irreplicable about family experiences. Seeing all of the greatest wonders of the world simply can’t compare.
Beyond the moral and emotional imperatives for including blind and visually impaired people in experiences like my friend’s Panama trip, there’s a practical aspect. In forming relationships, our experiences are critical in helping us connect to others and form initial conversation which eventually leads to deeper and long-lasting friendships. The exchange of experiences, sometimes mutual, other times peculiar to the individual, helps ease social tensions, making the participants more comfortable with each other.
My family, for example, always showed me around our car, letting me touch car parts, explaining what different sounds mean and what not. As a result, this helped me to be able to actively participate in conversations with guys my age, as automobiles seem to be a topic that always pops up.
And aside from having material for conversation at gatherings, knowledge is power and may even save your life. The aunt, in this case, is restricting the flow of the river of knowledge and experience in her niece, handicapping her ability to make friends and become a generally more rounded person
With a little support, blind and visually impaired people can meaningfully participate in events and outings, forming impactful and memorable experiences. Blind people are a part of the family too, so why not take us on that family trip to the zoo? Perhaps we can’t see the animals, but we can hear the sounds they make, and other family members can describe them to us. If we’re a part of the friend group, why not take us on that lime to C3? Perhaps we can’t see the décor, but we can drink a smoothie and share a joke or two.
“My aunt said that it makes no sense...”
The only nonsensical thing is shutting out a loved one.
This column is supplied in conjunction with the T&T Blind Welfare Association
Headquarters: 118 Duke Street, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad.
ttbwa1914@gmail.com;
(868) 624-4675;
WhatsApp: (868) 395-3086.