A time for reflection: what was achieved and remains to be achieved

(Concluding instalment of Padmani Mendis’ autobiography focused on her global work on Community Based Rehabilitation of the disabled that took her to many parts of the world)

These are my memories as I have lived them. Memories of opportunities that came to me in many parts of the world including my own, to touch the lives of disabled people, their families and their communities. Reading my memories again as I have recalled them for you, I see that, by and large, they are mostly good and happy memories. Am I an optimist in pessimistic times?

Or is it that, while I journeyed, any hopelessness that I may have experienced on my journey in disability has now, in my memory, been overtaken by what was made possible for disabled people? Made possible by facing head on the challenges of introducing change in a world resistant to change. Made possible by the people I met and worked with on my journey who were unafraid to venture into the unknown.

I recall the happy times and times filled with hope I spent in Yemen, in Syria, in Palestine and in Lebanon not so long ago. Seeing flowers blossom for disabled people there. I have written elsewhere about my experiences in these and in other countries. Some like these four countries have since been embroiled in conflict. Many are in a varying state of disorder and ruin.

This includes equally times filled with hope – times spent in Venezuela and in Iran, countries facing economic disaster as is my own. The flowers that bloomed for disabled people in such countries may now be scarce, or may have faded or even gone completely. In other countries that I have described in my memories, flowers blossom, flowers of vivid colours. Seeds are spread and take root. And yet more flowers bloom.

I fear not for those countries where hope has waned or faded. This is but temporary. Globally, a positive pathway for disabled people has been cleared through Community Based Rehabilitation (CBR). Seeds lie dormant. The world we live in goes round and round. And with those cycles, opportunities for disabled people that have faded will blossom and come round again. With economic and social rebirth those seeds that lie dormant will germinate and grow. Other good times will come in time for disabled people everywhere. And there will be many to help them on their way.

In the departure lounge: from memories to permanence

And now I have come to settle down in what would be my departure lounge on the final leg of my journey. Some of those steps I have described more recently were taken from here, my present home. These have added continuity to my journey. And with that continuity they have also created, in my departure lounge, a sense of permanence.

One aspect of that permanence is personal. It comes from the fact that my lounge is situated in my home in an Apartment Block which a property developer had named Prince Alfred Tower (PAT). It is located in Alfred House Gardens.

I would like for a moment to take you back to the earliest memories I shared with you, that concerning my heritage. Alfred House was the name my mother’s grandfather gave to his home. He had named it Alfred House after Alfred, the Prince of Wales who he had entertained in that house. PAT was built in my great-grandfathers back garden on a small portion of what had been his property. The personal permanence stems from there.

Padmani Mendis after receiving her Honorary Doctorate (Doctor of Medicine Honoris Causa) from the University of Uppsala in Sweden. Honorary degrees in medicine are very rare.

A permanence greater than that however stems from the continuity of the many, many relationships that I have been blessed with all my life, relationships with friends and family. These are deeper than personal if such can be.

These relationships have taken my good fortune out to the world and connected me with all that surrounded me. Many are friendships that have grown from my earliest schooldays to my preparation for a profession; and to my work in that profession in many parts of the globe as in my own. I have made mention of some, but by no means all those friendships.

Here I must add a few to those I have already mentioned. Don Chandrasinghe, who together with his wife Radha, are both also favourite students and among the first I taught. They now live in faraway London. But call me at least every fortnight just to ask how I am doing.

Then there is Camilla Dissanayake, a colleague from the 1970s, who lives but a couple of kilometres away as the crow flies, who will often spend hours on the phone with me talking about the past and the present with some stuff to be sad about and much to laugh about. And Rohana Perera, a student only for a short time, but with whom grew a friendship that has lengthened forever.

More recently has come into my life again Leonie Fernando; she with always a smile on her face and full of laughter; who knew me when she was a student occupational therapist nearly 50 years ago and now in frequent communication. And Sharmini Sinniah, whom I remember I first worked with when she was at Christoffel Blinden Mission or CBM the primary source of support to Disability NGOs; later when she moved to the US Embassy and now continuing that relationship on the phone. All these, permanence.

Then there is the permanence of the work I have contributed to for disabled people, Community Based Rehabilitation. CBR is still evolving and will continue to do so. In the last country I visited, Zambia, I hear that the strategy is now called “CBR for Inclusive Development”. Sounds very promising. I love that terminology.

Come the day, however distant, when disabled people will be completely and comprehensively included as a final and total recognition of their rights, their humanity. Then it will only be one “Development” for all. Not just the words “CBR” but even the word “Inclusive” will be obsolete. Oh, come the day!

A time when every man will be as one,
A time to reach out and touch the sun,
Come the day.
Freedom’s still a thought within your mind,
The fleeting thing that some may never find,
It may still be a million miles away.
Can you hear the bells ringin’?
Voices singin’,
Far away?

Song by the Seekers, 1966

Adding permanence to my work is the recognition of it over the years. I have shared with you my experience of receiving an Honorary Doctorate from the University of Uppsala three decades ago. Seven years ago, the World Confederation of Physical Therapy, WCPT, awarded me the “Leadership in Rehabilitation” award. The award is given every four years, not only to physiotherapists; it is available also to other individuals and organisations who have contributed to international rehabilitation and global health.

And just three years ago, Lincoln College University in Malaysia awarded to me two honorary titles in recognition of my global work – a Professorship and a Doctorate in Physiotherapy. An added honour was that the Vice Chancellor of the University, Prof. Dr. Amiya Bhaumik came to Sri Lanka to award me the two honours himself, personally at a convocation held in Colombo.

And then there is that other permanence which makes life so worthwhile. The Wonderful World that we live in. The beauty of it that is around us.

When I look immediately down from my bedroom window on the seventh floor, I see a multi-coloured sheet of Araliya flowers not once, but twice a year. To the green, green garden beyond comes a kingfisher every morning to perch on a favourite branch and search for possibilities. Perhaps not finding any, it flies away.

Daily a flock of parrots hop from tree to tree, taking cover as it were from those eyes like mine. I believe it is the same flock of parrots that go to my friend Mino’s home perhaps a kilometre away measured on their flight path. She always has for them hanging on her verandah a bowlful of rice and a basin of water. They are there every day as sure as the day follows the night, at ten in the morning and at four in the evening.

And just as sure as it ever is, the two flamboyant trees within my range of vision change themselves into an umbrella of orange every year, in May. Or if they so decide to, they keep us waiting until June or maybe even July.

As I stand at dawn on my balcony with my early morning cup of coffee, on a clear day, I have a beautiful and unique view of the sacred Adams Peak with the sun rising behind it in the east. If I get to the same spot of an evening, I see the sun set behind the western horizon. I stand there transfixed with the beauty of the sky over our coastline at dusk.

Often from the same balcony I have seen soft rainbows lengthen themselves, each in an unending arc with God’s unending promise for tomorrow. Once I was so fortunate as to have seen two rainbows at the same time. A double promise for tomorrow for this our island home. And I believe also for this, our wonderful world.

With all this, what more can I ask for as I journey on at home in my departure lounge. Journey on and wait for His call. Singing with Louis Armstrong the great Satchmo himself,

I see skies of blue
and clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
the dark sacred night.
And I think to myself
what a wonderful world.