Al-Ahram Weekly 10 - 16 February 2000 Issue No. 468
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875

Willing and able The disabled rarely feature in Egyptian cinematic and literary production. Does this fact reflect general social apathy towards the mentally and physically challenged? Whatever the answer, Gihan Shahine finds that a Book Fair seminar dedicated to discussing disability is a big step forward photos: Youssri Aql

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Sheikh Hosni is a blind man who -- in contrast to his sighted, yet frustrated, son -- is witty, confident and optimistic. Hosni's disability has done little to stop him from enjoying his life to the full. He makes fun of his impairment, rides a motorbike, has the occasional love affair, takes drugs and has escaped from the police on several hilarious occasions. More importantly, losing his sight has allowed Hosni to gain insight: he can see through people and unveil truths which, ironically, remain largely unseen by many sighted people. He transcends his disability simply by ignoring it.

Sheikh Hosni is the hero of Kit Kat, a movie written and directed by Daoud Abdel-Sayed and starring popular actor Mahmoud Abdel-Aziz. Inspired by Ibrahim Aslan's novel Malek Al-Hazin (The Heron), Kit Kat is one of the few Egyptian films which, directly or not, tackles issues pertaining to disability. The movie was presented last week at the Book Fair, as part of the First Artistic Festival for the Disabled. The two-day event, the first time the disabled have been represented in their own right at the Book Fair, had two seminars on its agenda, in addition to a play, a concert and an exhibition of paintings by physically and/or mentally challenged artists.

The festival was organised by the non-governmental Association for Health and Environmental Development (AHED). The first seminar discussed the representation of the disabled in the cinema and the second tackled social attitudes towards the mentally and physically challenged.

According to Dr Abdel-Hamid Kabesh, chairman of AHED, the association's agenda aims at bridging the gap between the disabled and the rest of society. The role of AHED, Kabesh explains, is to bring the disabled and their families together with officials and NGOs, and to give the disabled a chance to express themselves. AHED also helps the disabled and their families form a task force through which they can vent grievances and make demands directly. Such a task force will allow them eventually to become independent from campaigners and NGOs, however well-meaning, according to Kabesh.

"The Book Fair, one of the most popular cultural events in Egypt, is the perfect chance to realise these goals," Kabesh says enthusiastically. Busy preparing his papers for the second seminar, five minutes before it starts, he adds: "It is at the fair that we can address a large section of society. We invited officials, intellectuals, media people, and the general public, who have all come to listen and help solve the problems of the disabled. People have also expressed appreciation of the artistic work on show, the music and the play, which are all clear manifestations of the abilities of the disabled. The response has been overwhelming. I think we are conveying our message successfully: the disabled have hidden energy and talent, crying to be released."

Kit Kat, many agree, conveyed the same message. Although the film was not meant to tackle the issue of disability directly, as Abdel-Sayed made clear during the seminar, the character of Sheikh Hosni is symbolic. "He shows us that the first step toward combating disability is to acknowledge it," Abdel-Sayed comments. "Hosni could cope with his disability because he simply did not dwell on it. We all have a disability of one kind or another, but we also have skills that can help us cope with life."

Other filmmakers seem disinclined to tackle issues of disability. The reason, many critics agree, is that cinema is largely a commercial venture and producers would not risk making a film that may not bring in a large audience. "Film-making is an expensive private business and producers want to make a profit," explains veteran critic Rafiq El-Sabban.

Many critics, however, insist that producers' fear of making films about disability is unfounded. Kit Kat was a fair success, winning several awards for best lead actor and best screenplay. Other cases in point are: Toot Toot, Dik Al-Baraber, Lak Youm Ya Zalem, Al-Kharsaa, Sarkha, Al-Akhras, Mabrouk wa Bulbul. On the international level, What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, My Left Foot or Forrest Gump showed the disabled as different, with unique qualities of their own. All were very successful.

OUT OF OBLIVION: From top, a music recital at the Book Fair's First Artistic Festival for the Disabled; the artwork exhibited uncovers hidden talents; Mahmoud Abdel-Aziz takes to the streets as Sheikh Hosni in the famous motorcycle scene from Daoud Abdel-Sayed's Kit Kat

"Many such films proved successful because disability is a worldwide phenomenon that should normally find expression in the cinema," El-Sabban maintains. There are no accurate estimates of the number of disabled in Egypt, in part because disability is still regarded by many as a stigma that should remain hidden. Official statistics, however, indicate that at least four to six million Egyptians are disabled.

But is this fairly large proportion represented in Egyptian films? "There is still a big difference between the way the disabled feature in foreign and Egyptian films -- and the comparison is not in our favour," El-Sabban says ruefully. Film critic Siham Abdel-Salam concurs: "In Egyptian movies, the disabled have traditionally been given symbolic roles. They are largely stereotyped either as the 'fool' in Shakespeare's plays, who has extraordinary powers enabling him to unveil the truth, or as helpless people who deserve pity and help."

Neither image, critics agree, is realistic. Films should seek to portray the disabled as they are in real life: as normal people, with good and bad sides; as members of a society characterised by its own quirks and peculiarities. "But the way the disabled are presented in many films can be humiliating and discouraging," Abdel-Salam warns.

She has a point. Sami El-Begermi, a blind writer, is, to put it mildly, very disenchanted about the way the disabled are presented in films and novels. "[We] are always presented as inferior," El-Begermi complains. "The scenario always goes as follows: If the hero of the film is disabled, he must undergo an operation that cures his disability by the end. The paralysed must walk again, the blind must see -- and the mentally challenged must die, since no operation cures that. Our image is always exaggerated, even in literary works and the print media; or it is not tackled at all. Such negative attitudes has driven many of [us] to cut themselves off from society."

For El-Sabban, however, the picture is not so dim. "The stereotype of the 'village idiot' is changing. Examples of a new awareness can be found in films like Kit Kat and Toot Toot," he maintains. For El-Sabban, however, the real problem is that producers handling disability choose box-office magnets to star in their films, which causes their production to lose credibility. "Big stars are associated with certain images in the audience's mind. It would be difficult to believe Nabila Ebeid has Down's Syndrome, or that Mahmoud Abdel-Aziz is blind," El-Sabban contends. "No matter how much famous actors perfect their roles, people will only remember how good they were as actors."

Should the disabled act instead? The question is debatable. Many critics argue that famous actors can still be very convincing. Daniel Day Lewis is a case in point. In My Left Foot, an Irish production, Lewis successfully played the role of a painter who transcended his cerebral palsy by using his left foot, his only mobile organ, to paint.

"Still, the disabled should get a chance to act," Abdel-Salam insists, referring to Pascal Duquenne, a Down's Syndrome actor whose film Le Huitième Jour (The Eighth Day) fascinated audiences worldwide. "Many of the mentally and physically challenged, like many ordinary people, are potentially great actors, but they are never given a chance," Abdel-Salam contends. "Although disabled actors have proved successful, many Egyptian filmmakers would not dare take one on for fear of the audience's reaction."

Abdel-Sayed, on the other hand, insists that scripts dealing with disability are almost unavailable -- a claim adamantly disputed by many critics and the disabled themselves. Abdel-Salam knows of "at least two good novels that would make two good films": one is a biography written by Sobhi El-Gayyar and the other is by the mother of a disabled child.

"Many other texts would make good films," Abdel-Salam maintains. "And if filmmakers find literature inadequate, why not make up their own stories?" There is a consensus among sociologists and critics that the marginalisation of the disabled in Egyptian cinema is only a micro-level manifestation of a larger social problem. Very few producers would base a film on a serious issue because they feel that such films will not attract many viewers. Socially, disability is still stigmatised: the disabled are still viewed with some discomfort, as alien and different, and few would tolerate, not to mention enjoy, a whole film about the 'other'.

This attitude was the main theme of the second seminar on the agenda of the Book Fair Festival. According to Dr Kabesh, many people are still unaware that a disabled person can not only live independently, but also, if given the chance, be a productive member of society. Ignorance of this potential, many experts agree, has resulted in a widespread perception of the disabled as useless or burdensome. Disabled people are thus always given lower priorities in government work, education, funding, employment opportunities, and even within families of disabled children with non-disabled siblings.

Some think the media is largely to blame for this social apathy. "The role of the media is to enlighten people about their different social problems," says Shadia Mohamed, the mother of a child with Down's Syndrome and a participant in the family awareness programmes that are part of AHED's agenda. "Disability is one important issue that remains largely undiscussed, as far as the media are concerned." Mohamed complains that many families who have disabled children need to be taught how to deal with their children, how to make them independent, and where to go for help.

"Many families simply don't know where to go when they discover they have a disabled child." Shadia's voice is growing increasingly strained. "We are always torn between different ministries and there is no single authority to which we can turn for help. Physicians are also unaware of the health problems accompanying disability, and programmes should be designed to train them, at least to help them make correct diagnoses. And it is definitely the role of the media to communicate our problems and demands to officials."

Nagwa Abul-Naga, head of Al-Shabab wal-Riyada (Youth and Sports) radio station, concedes that very few programmes tackle issues of disability in Egypt. "This, however, is changing," Abul-Naga maintains. When Abul-Naga was appointed head of the station, she decided a slot would be opened up to discuss issues related to disability. "Now we have specialised announcers who are deeply involved in the field, and we've presented many programmes expressing the problems, dreams, skills and abilities of the disabled," she says. Abul-Naga promises more programmes will be broadcast to prepare expecting parents for the possibility of having a disabled child and increasing awareness of ways to handle the situation.

For Sayed Gomaa, head of the disability programme at the Ministry of Social Affairs (MOSA), the integration of disabled people in society is the most important issue. "The disabled are still isolated, and this is a major obstacle to our rehabilitation programmes," he explains. "We have to change negative perceptions if we want any of our ambitious programmes to make headway."

Gomaa refers to one incident in particular. He had tried to convince the manager of a youth centre to let in disabled youngsters. "His adamant rejection was shocking, and so was the refusal of many schools to integrate disabled children with the other students. Our society definitely needs a dose of awareness."

Work is another problem. Although labour legislation stipulates that five per cent of employment opportunities be reserved for the disabled, the law is not always enforced strictly. In many cases, the disabled are not called back for interviews or are given jobs and asked to take paid home leave. "More events are necessary to acquaint employers with the potential of the disabled. It should be the role of rehabilitation centres to network with different facilities for job vacancies," Gomaa maintains.

Only a few of the problems actually facing the disabled were presented at the Book Fair seminars. But although the same problems have lingered on for years on end, some people can see light on the horizon. "The picture is not totally dim," says Azza Mohamed Ali, a cerebral palsy patient with a PhD in English literature. "Fifteen years ago, we had literally nothing for the disabled, not even a department at the MOSA. Nobody cared about us or was interested in the issue. A mentally challenged person was categorised as 'mad' or 'stupid' and cerebral palsy was totally unknown. Today, especially in the past five years, many people have adopted the issue of disability and are defending it as their own cause."

As the second seminar draws to its end, Esmat El-Qoussi, the mother of a three-year-old child with Down's Syndrome, rushes into the hall to catch the last moments. "It is very important for us, the parents, to attend such events, which, if anything, are positive signs that society is coming to recognise the demands and rights of the disabled," she says. El-Qoussi smiles, then dashes into the hall, hugging her child to her closely.

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