True Story – Edwina Makgamatha On Disability

Nine years ago, a hit-and-run collision claimed Edwina Makgamatha’s mobility, but luckily not her resilience. She opens up about finding her true purpose after the accident

“Iwas born at seven months on the 15th of June 1984. As a preterm baby, I didn’t have any of the complications usually associated with prematures. When I heard this anecdote, I knew that this was an early sign of the fighting spirit that would later fill and define the course of my life. For the first 10 years of my life, I was raised in Ga-Matlala, Mastitsileng, by my maternal grandmother, a woman of God whose wise counsel I’ll forever be thankful for. One of the most profound lessons she drilled into my head was to never cry over spilt milk, and to keep it moving, no matter how sour life’s events turned out. To this day I still maintain that growing up in a rural community, before joining my parents in Johannesburg at age 11, was the best thing to ever happen to me. It grounded me and gave me a solid foundation to build onto.

In 2006, I was involved in a car accident that fractured my pelvic bones and rendered me immobile for approximately eight months. I was 22 and fortunately my bones grew back. With rehab and my family’s support, I was back on my feet in no time. I was studying community and youth psychology remotely, and running a mobile beauty salon when I was involved in a second accident in 2010. This time around, no doctor came to my bedside to reassure me that, in time, I would recuperate because I was still young. There were just nurses, bless their souls, whose words of inspiration came more from a place of pity than honesty. That year, I

spent my entire December bedridden in hospital and on the eve of being discharged, the doctor hung my X-rays within close range and offhandedly broke the news that I’d never be able to walk again.

There are a few occassions on which I believe God was trying to prepare me for this wheelchair journey. The first one was being temporarily incapacitated after the 2006 accident — that incident gave me an inkling of what it would be like to not be able to use my legs. The second nudge was a disabled lady that I once witnessed transferring from her car into her wheelchair, push herself into the grocery story and get back into her car again. I remember marvelling at how independent she was, not knowing that I, too, would follow suit.

I spent three weeks in ICU and three months in rehab, being taught how to fend for myself. My then partner, who was driving that night, broke his femur bone but recovered swiftly. My sons were one and two at the time. I still remember, quite vividly, their hospital visits when they were both still in nappies and me at the sight of them, knowing that I had to remain strong. Even though there was a witness who had chased the perpetrator’s car until he was close enough to get the registration details, he was never brought to book. As with anything life-altering, people and circumstances around you change too. My ex-partner moved us from a top floor to a ground floor apartment. One after the other, friends disappeared. I had discontinued my mobile beauty spa business and settled for a conventional office job at a freight and logistics company, because I didn’t want to sit at home and pity myself. My ex-partner’s job required him to travel extensively, and on those days when both he and the nanny were away, I learnt to take care of myself and the kids, and still be able to get all of us to school and work on time. When I learnt of my ex-partner’s indiscretions early into my recovery, I decided to release him as the repercussions of the heartbreak would stand in my way of healing and acquainting myself with this new journey.

While this is a seemingly tragic situation to others, so many good things have been borne out of this journey. I know people hear my story and immediately want to throw a pity party for me, but I’m honestly not one to feel sorry for myself.

Through my deeply rooted spirituality, I know that God will never give me a load too enormous for me to carry on my own. Yes, sure, I miss running around with my children and the fact that when we go out, there has to be a third person to help me with a venue’s possible inaccessibility. Working at the National Council for Persons with Disabilities, an NGO that helped me make sense of my injuries, opened my eyes to the plight of many other disabled people, and also alerted me to the government and NGO support available out there.

My one-year stint at the National Council for Persons with Disabilities sparked the idea for my company, Thusanang, which was inspired by my own struggles after being discharged from hospital. Disabled people don’t get trained on how to use or where to buy the daily disposables they need for their day-to-day well-being and hygiene. My company services the Road Accident Fund (RAF) and I currently employ a team of 15 to help me package and deliver daily consumables such as catheters, linen savers, medication for pressure wounds and much more to road accident claimants. Our head office is in Boksburg and we have a satellite office in Mokopane, Limpopo but deliver countrywide.

Being disabled is very expensive. When I left the hospital, I couldn’t afford a wheelchair and had to arrange for a second-hand one, which I struggled to pay off. A good wheelchair that’s designed according to one’s body dimensions and injuries costs anything from R50 000 to R100 000. I also help the RAF’s claimants in understanding an undertaking certificate, the equivalent of lifetime medical insurance. Once a road accident victim gets paid out, they get this undertaking certificate which details how much the RAF is liable for, depending on the intensity of the claimant’s injuries. Along with this, I also run a giving-back NGO called Thuso Ke Botho, which trains caregivers on the health and emotional needs of disabled people. The worst thing a caregiver can do is to strip a disabled person of their dignity, or treat them like an invalid.

I’m one of 25 Zanele Mbeki fellows, a programme designed for young entrepreneurs who’ve had an impact in their community. I’ve also been selected to sit on the board of healthcare giant SpesNet, a role that I was approached for based on my expertise in caring for disabled people. I’m also an ambassador for the Wings for Life World Run, a global running event that is held simultaneously in numerous locations around the world, and is returning to Centurion, South Africa on 5 May 2019. The proceeds from this race go towards finding a cure for spinal cord injuries. Up to now, Wings For Life has funded research projects and clinical trials around the globe.

In the same breath, I believe that happiness shouldn’t only be measured by one’s career achievements. I now have a boyfriend who chooses to be with me despite my inability to walk. And I feel secure knowing that my two boys have my back — they don’t allow anyone, their schoolmates included, to say anything mean about their mom being in a wheelchair.”

While this is a seemingly tragic situation to others, many good things have been borne out of this journey.