Too busy to be bothered by his blindness
Nov 04, 2002
HE sits at his computer in one corner of his office. He turns with a smile to face the door when he hears a knock.
By Muhammad Tamale
HE sits at his computer in one corner of his office. He turns with a smile to face the door when he hears a knock.
One would think Julius Kamya is staring at one through his black glasses. But he is blind.
Born 32 years ago at Kaazi, a small village in Bugerere, Kayunga district, Kamya’s mother detected a defect in his left eye when he was only six months old.
“Eye doctors at Mulago Eye Clinic told my mother that it was eye cancer. The only way to save the right eye was to remove the left one,†Kamya says.
The first surgery was carried out before he could celebrate his first birthday, and Kamya lost his eye.
In 1977, the second eye began aching and producing blurred images. By then, he was a pupil at Wajjanzi Primary School.
Kamya was shocked one morning when he got up to prepare for school and realised that his only eye had lost its power of sight.
As a child, blindness did not stop him from playing or going to school. He would make planes out of leaves, run around, and play football. He could even wrestle his peers, especially those who used to call him muzibe (the blind).
This made his grandmother doubt that he was blind. “She thought I was an obstinate child who did not want to be assigned domestic chores. Sometimes I got strokes of the cane for that. But I could not see,†Kamya says.
When his aunt and mother later took him to Mulago Hospital, the doctors diagnosed the illness as cancer. They said they had to remove the second eye to stop the cancer from spreading to the brain.
The three unanimously rejected the doctors’ advice and chose to use traditional medicine that, later, proved a naïve and even dangerous suggestion. The eye continued to ache dreadfully and swell to the extent of falling out of the socket.
“I couldn’t bear the pain any more. I told my mother that we should go and get the eye out. The (second) eye was also removed. That is the time (1978) I lost hope of recovering my sight,†Kamya says.
“The time I lost sight, I had seen my mother about twice. She had come to the village to see me. Her appearance is not that clear in my memory, yet she is one of those people I remember most,†Kamya says.
But he takes pleasure in having seen what the world is. He says, “I know most things people talk about. I can’t imagine what those born blind visualise in their mind as the world.â€
His mother painstakingly went about creating a special world for Kamya. She was of a humble background. Many of her friends and relatives used to discourage her from paying his school fees, arguing that blindness had wasted him. But she persevered in finding him educational assistance from one support organisation after another.
It is with such support that he sat for his Primary Leaving Examinations (10 aggregates) from St Francis School for the Blind, Madera, in Soroti and his O-level (17 aggregates) and A-level from Iganga SSS.
Kamya envisioned getting a law degree from Makerere University. But many of his colleagues, including the blind who had made it to Makerere, discouraged him.
“They said our machines—the Perkins Braille (special writing machines for the blind) used to make a lot of noise for the lecturers and students during lectures.
“And if a blind student took his reader to the library, other students were not comfortable,†Kamya says. This made Kamya change his mind and decide to opt for journalism. He faced hurdles though.
His 15 points at UACE were enough in 1992 to get him admitted on government sponsorship for a Bachelor of Mass Communications. The University did not know they were admitting a blind student.
“They got surprised on registration,†Kamya says. No blind student had ever done the course. They advised him to try a Bachelor of Arts, Education, or Social Sciences, which they had seen the blind do.
“Tears rolled down my face when I realised they wanted to drop me. But Dr. Kidubuka told them in my presence (during a departmental meeting) that I was one of his top five students,†Kamya recalls.
While he was given only a week to change his mind for another course, the matter went up to the Senate. “In my third year, I was surprised to read an article in The New Vision saying; ‘Blind student wins case,’†he recalls. He adds that the Senate ruled that ‘let a student do a course of his choice.’
He used to do exams from a separate room, where lecturers dictated to him the questions. He would Braille them for reference and then type the answers with a typewriter.
He graduated in January 1996, which was one of his happiest moments in life, along with the day he got admitted to University, and the day his wife bore him their first child.
Kamya says, “I wanted to have a child with sight so that people could know how I looked, at least the face.†He has three children with his wife Christine Najjuma. They live at Maganjo in Wakiso district.
As most youth do, Kamya went through youthful love relationships. But one day in 1995 a voice sounded distinctive. Kamya was on his regular visit to his friend who worked at Mengo School of Nursing and Midwifery as a switchboard operator.
“I saw good characteristics in her. She spoke with humility. She seemed to care about others, not necessarily men,†Kamya explains.
Kamya had to do a lot of wooing. Najjuma was working with the hospital as a midwife. Kamya had just got a job with the National Union for the Disabled Persons of Uganda (NUDIPU).
He now works as their policy research officer. He sits at the executive committee of the Network of Uganda Researchers and Research Users (NURRU). He is the general secretary and the chairman of the personnel committee of the Uganda National Association of the blind (UNAB). He also sits on other committees.
Kamya could not let himself lag behind in this highly computerised world. He has learnt how to use computers with the help of the Job Access With Speech (JAWS). It is screen reading software that, through earphones or speakers attached to the PC, reads the user messages on the screen, or being keyed in.
“As for you, you watch what is here but to me the PC reads me what is here,†Kamya says, touching his PC.
The software makes the blind person independent. Kamya uses it for working in MS-Word and surfing the Internet. JAWS works with the software it finds in the PC.
“But JAWS is not so good for surfing the Internet. There is other software called Open Book. It reads print material and does many other jobs. It is more friendly in surfing,†Kamya says.
He says though he has not yet purchased Open Book software, he still gambles his way out and surfs the Internet using JAWS.
“At times I get too busy to remember that I’m blind,†Kamya says.
HE sits at his computer in one corner of his office. He turns with a smile to face the door when he hears a knock.
One would think Julius Kamya is staring at one through his black glasses. But he is blind.
Born 32 years ago at Kaazi, a small village in Bugerere, Kayunga district, Kamya’s mother detected a defect in his left eye when he was only six months old.
“Eye doctors at Mulago Eye Clinic told my mother that it was eye cancer. The only way to save the right eye was to remove the left one,†Kamya says.
The first surgery was carried out before he could celebrate his first birthday, and Kamya lost his eye.
In 1977, the second eye began aching and producing blurred images. By then, he was a pupil at Wajjanzi Primary School.
Kamya was shocked one morning when he got up to prepare for school and realised that his only eye had lost its power of sight.
As a child, blindness did not stop him from playing or going to school. He would make planes out of leaves, run around, and play football. He could even wrestle his peers, especially those who used to call him muzibe (the blind).
This made his grandmother doubt that he was blind. “She thought I was an obstinate child who did not want to be assigned domestic chores. Sometimes I got strokes of the cane for that. But I could not see,†Kamya says.
When his aunt and mother later took him to Mulago Hospital, the doctors diagnosed the illness as cancer. They said they had to remove the second eye to stop the cancer from spreading to the brain.
The three unanimously rejected the doctors’ advice and chose to use traditional medicine that, later, proved a naïve and even dangerous suggestion. The eye continued to ache dreadfully and swell to the extent of falling out of the socket.
“I couldn’t bear the pain any more. I told my mother that we should go and get the eye out. The (second) eye was also removed. That is the time (1978) I lost hope of recovering my sight,†Kamya says.
“The time I lost sight, I had seen my mother about twice. She had come to the village to see me. Her appearance is not that clear in my memory, yet she is one of those people I remember most,†Kamya says.
But he takes pleasure in having seen what the world is. He says, “I know most things people talk about. I can’t imagine what those born blind visualise in their mind as the world.â€
His mother painstakingly went about creating a special world for Kamya. She was of a humble background. Many of her friends and relatives used to discourage her from paying his school fees, arguing that blindness had wasted him. But she persevered in finding him educational assistance from one support organisation after another.
It is with such support that he sat for his Primary Leaving Examinations (10 aggregates) from St Francis School for the Blind, Madera, in Soroti and his O-level (17 aggregates) and A-level from Iganga SSS.
Kamya envisioned getting a law degree from Makerere University. But many of his colleagues, including the blind who had made it to Makerere, discouraged him.
“They said our machines—the Perkins Braille (special writing machines for the blind) used to make a lot of noise for the lecturers and students during lectures.
“And if a blind student took his reader to the library, other students were not comfortable,†Kamya says. This made Kamya change his mind and decide to opt for journalism. He faced hurdles though.
His 15 points at UACE were enough in 1992 to get him admitted on government sponsorship for a Bachelor of Mass Communications. The University did not know they were admitting a blind student.
“They got surprised on registration,†Kamya says. No blind student had ever done the course. They advised him to try a Bachelor of Arts, Education, or Social Sciences, which they had seen the blind do.
“Tears rolled down my face when I realised they wanted to drop me. But Dr. Kidubuka told them in my presence (during a departmental meeting) that I was one of his top five students,†Kamya recalls.
While he was given only a week to change his mind for another course, the matter went up to the Senate. “In my third year, I was surprised to read an article in The New Vision saying; ‘Blind student wins case,’†he recalls. He adds that the Senate ruled that ‘let a student do a course of his choice.’
He used to do exams from a separate room, where lecturers dictated to him the questions. He would Braille them for reference and then type the answers with a typewriter.
He graduated in January 1996, which was one of his happiest moments in life, along with the day he got admitted to University, and the day his wife bore him their first child.
Kamya says, “I wanted to have a child with sight so that people could know how I looked, at least the face.†He has three children with his wife Christine Najjuma. They live at Maganjo in Wakiso district.
As most youth do, Kamya went through youthful love relationships. But one day in 1995 a voice sounded distinctive. Kamya was on his regular visit to his friend who worked at Mengo School of Nursing and Midwifery as a switchboard operator.
“I saw good characteristics in her. She spoke with humility. She seemed to care about others, not necessarily men,†Kamya explains.
Kamya had to do a lot of wooing. Najjuma was working with the hospital as a midwife. Kamya had just got a job with the National Union for the Disabled Persons of Uganda (NUDIPU).
He now works as their policy research officer. He sits at the executive committee of the Network of Uganda Researchers and Research Users (NURRU). He is the general secretary and the chairman of the personnel committee of the Uganda National Association of the blind (UNAB). He also sits on other committees.
Kamya could not let himself lag behind in this highly computerised world. He has learnt how to use computers with the help of the Job Access With Speech (JAWS). It is screen reading software that, through earphones or speakers attached to the PC, reads the user messages on the screen, or being keyed in.
“As for you, you watch what is here but to me the PC reads me what is here,†Kamya says, touching his PC.
The software makes the blind person independent. Kamya uses it for working in MS-Word and surfing the Internet. JAWS works with the software it finds in the PC.
“But JAWS is not so good for surfing the Internet. There is other software called Open Book. It reads print material and does many other jobs. It is more friendly in surfing,†Kamya says.
He says though he has not yet purchased Open Book software, he still gambles his way out and surfs the Internet using JAWS.
“At times I get too busy to remember that I’m blind,†Kamya says.