But no. Once again, NZ Bus show blatant disregard for the diverse needs of their traveling public, and order 120 buses with the same old manual ramps. If you think I’m being too harsh, or find my tone unnecessarily disparaging, take a ride on a bus with a wheelchair user.

Or at least, try to. You’ll be lucky if the driver lets you on.

• An example of an awesome, wheelchair-accessible bus with an automatic ramp from my travels in Vancouver:

From November 21-29, I was one of the very fortunate 300 young people to take part in this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime event in a place I have always wanted to travel to – incredible India. First, let me explain what the programme is all about. Back in February, on my eighteenth birthday in fact, I applied to be part of the Oxfam International Youth Partnerships (OIYP) 2010-13 cycle, which is a programme run by Oxfam Australia involving social change and human rights of various kinds. The goal is to bring 300 young people from all over the world together to create a force for positive change over the next three years. While some are involved in gay rights, women’s rights, climate change and so on, I am involved in disability rights. Kaleidoscope, so-called because of the diversity of the people involved, was the bringing together of the 300 “Action Partners” chosen to participate in the programme, which has been going since 2000. This time was the first time it was held outside its Australian origins, and what an incredible experience it was. An experience I decided to do completely independently; no support person or personal assistant. I rolled solo.

When I told people this before I went, they looked at me as if I was insane and said things like “You’re going to India, BY YOURSELF?”

“Yes,” I replied casually, “Why not? It’s a place I’ve always wanted to go. I may as well take the step and do it alone. Not that I’ll be alone… there’ll be hundreds of other young people to keep me company.”

To be fair, I could see why they were shocked. It was a big risk for me to take and I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage. But here I am, home, jetlagged, safe, well and missing India and all the amazing people I met there.

There are far too many things to write about, but it was a truly incredible experience. I had the opportunity to meet so many people from so many places across the globe doing wonderful things in their communities despite the adversity they face. Very few had disabilities. Only four out of the 300 had a visible disability of some kind – all physical. But I think it was good that way. I learned a lot about advocacy and campaigning, about mentoring and coaching, about personal empowerment, about how to create change, and most importantly, about unity and friendship. Everyone was so accepting of one another and I made so many friends from across the world – from places like Papua New Guinea, Australia, Fiji, Vanawatu, the Solomon Islands, Canada, the UK, the USA, Brazil, Nigeria, Kenya, Liberia, Uganda, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Bangladesh, India, Iraq, Algeria, Palestine, the Czech Republic, Ukraine, South Africa, Guyana and Zimbabwe just to name a few. Places I have never been, but now wish to visit in the future. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, and at Kaleidoscope, the world traveled to me.

Of course, deciding to do this trip independently had its challenges. Getting there and back was probably the biggest mission. Though I traveled with two other New Zealanders, both of whom are wonderful people who I became very close friends with, the journey was long – as in 30 hours or so long – and stressful, especially the trip home. I traveled via Dubai, an airport which apparently doesn’t have enough wheelchairs for its disabled passengers, meaning that I was kicked out of the wheelchair I used there and made to sit in a room called the “special handling area” until they could escort me to the boarding gate. I did protest about this, but my complaints fell on deaf ears and to make matters worse, because there aren’t enough wheelchairs, we had to wait for a spare before we could go to the gate. By the time we got there, the flight was on “final call” and we were very close to missing it. Going through Indian immigration was also an interesting, stressful experience as they kept telling me they had to take my wheelchair away, but no one was telling me why. Eventually it turned out that it needed to be x-rayed for security purposes, and I did get it back after about half an hour of waiting. The language barrier sure made things interesting at times, but I think that was all part of the experience. Overall, though, I managed remarkably well and there was always someone to give me a hand if I needed one.

I saw many things I had never seen before in Delhi; sometimes shocking things: people living on the side of the highway, stray dogs roaming the streets, malnourished cows and other animals eating the piles of garbage on the side of the road, children begging and a great amount of poverty. But I also saw and felt things that inspired me. I saw acceptance, hope, love, friendship, and an incredibly strong sense of unity among us all; rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight, disabled and non-disabled alike. While we were there, a gay pride parade took place in the centre of Delhi. Thousands of people joined together, including a number of Action Partners, to protest for gay rights in the streets of Delhi. Many colours, inspiring signs, drums and chants filled the streets, as did a powerful message of hope and equality for all. I also had the pleasure of visiting a disability organisation in Delhi called AADI, much like CCS Disability Action, and afterwards visiting a village which they worked in. It was great to see some of the “real India” and I think one of the highlights of the trip was clapping and chanting with the schoolkids there – a few of which had disabilities. It was a great experience and one I will never forget.

Yes, it is fair to say that I miss India. All of it. The sights and smells, the food, the traffic jams and the honking of horns, the smoggy air, and most of all, the people which I had the honour to meet and get to know. I didn’t get to sight-see much at all, but I really don’t think it mattered, because in the end, I returned home with many new friends, many memories, a strong sense of gratitude, and a new-found confidence and belief with in myself, which I believe can never be taken away from me or broken.

I am proud; proud that I accomplished my goal of going to India by myself, proud that I was able to prove to myself and others that I could do it, proud that I could make some sort of difference while there, proud that I came back a changed, better person, and proud that I will continue to change myself and my community.

The only question I’m asking myself now is “Where to next?” and the answer? “Anywhere I want to go.”

I’m having trouble choosing what pictures to insert in this post, so to view them all, click here.

I get a phone call this morning from IRIS, who manage my support services, and it goes like this:

IRIS: So… Looking through your latest report, it says here your support worker is your sister?

Me: Yes, is that a problem?

IRIS: Well, the Ministry have said that family members living in your home can’t be your support staff.

Me: But when I signed up for Individualised Funding, you said that it would be fine..?

IRIS: Not anymore. We can provide you with a support person until you find another one, but right now she can no longer work for you.

So what am I supposed to do, IRIS? Not get dressed in the morning? Go through the rigmarole of hunting down, interviewing, selecting and training another support person? Cancel an arrangement that’s working so well for me at the moment? Therein lies my biggest frustration, really – my support systems have never been as good as they are right now, and the Ministry want to take that away? I’m sorry, but fuck that.

I checked it out with my sister, and she tells me she’s living at her boyfriend’s for now. So I rang IRIS back to tell them the good news. My case manager tells me she’ll ask her boss if they will “accept this” and get back to me, but would I like them to send one of their staff over anyway?

No, IRIS, I wouldn’t.

This isn’t any old job. This is my life: my wellbeing, my independence, my dignity. Right now, my sister is doing an exceptional job, and she will continue to do so. Why on earth are they so hell-bent on removing what works so well?

More than anything, why do I get this uneasy feeling that I’m “in trouble”? I hate it how, as disabled people, we’re locked into these systems whereby you constantly feel like you’re in danger of breaking the rules, not that anyone really knows what the rules are. It’s the same thing if you’re on an invalids benefit, where you’re never really sure how much you can work in fear of having your benefit cut, so you don’t do anything. All these systems, rules, and other fucking people managing your life keep us in shackles, for the benefit of the bureaucrats who spend taxpayer money on fucking porn movies.

Frankly, I’m over it.

New traffic laws passed in Indonesia require disabled pedestrians to wear signs identifying them as handicapped.

AFP reports that amendments to local Traffic and Transport Law says “handicapped pedestrians must wear special and clear signs which can be easily recognised by other road users.”

Politician Ahman Muqowam told the news agency that the laws were designed to protect disabled people.

“This is a humanistic act. It’s for their safety on the streets,” he told AFP.

What are your feelings on this?

CCS Disability Action Northern Region will join the hikoi/march on Monday 25 May in support of IHI Action Group (Iwi Have Influence). This action group is leading the opposition to the establishment of Auckland Super City without reserved Maori seats as proposed by the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Auckland Governance.

Linda-Lee Odom, Chairperson of the Local Advisory Committee of CCS Disability Action, Auckland believes that this is a great opportunity to show our support and make our partnership with Ngati Whatua and Orakei Marae one that counts.

“Like many people in Auckland, disabled people are worried about the impact a Super City will have on our lives and whether our voices will still be heard and so it is easy for us to support Tangata Whenua and the recommendations made by the Royal Commission for reserved Maori seats”, said Ms Odom.

CCS Disability Action recognises Maori as Tangata Whenua, and is committed to being in relationships with Hapu and Iwi so that we continue to develop our ability to support disabled Maori and their whanau.

Ms Odom says “this is a great opportunity to show our support of Te Tiriti o Waitangi and our partnership with Ngati-Whatua. CCS Disability Action has a solid relationship with the people of Orakei Marae and Ngati-Whatua. Kaumatua/ Kuia have supported us in many ways enhancing the mana of the work we do, especially with disabled Maori and their whanau”.

Being mindful of access issues, CCS Disability Action supporters will be meeting at 10.30am at the corners of Commerce and Galway Streets, Central Auckland and then march together with everyone up Queen Street to the Town Hall.

On TVNZ’s Close Up programme Rodney Hide recommended that a Christchurch businessman should break the law and not follow accessibility guidelines in building regulations because it was too costly.

CCS Disability Action, the largest pan-disability support provider in New Zealand, believes Mr. Hide’s comments were irresponsible and based on ignorance of critical issues in peoples lives and relegate disabled people to second class citizens.

“This is discriminatory leadership at its worst. Disabled people make up a large proportion of the population in New Zealand, roughly one in five people have a disability, and ignoring the issues and the law around access in this way is unacceptable,” says Viv Maidaborn, CEO of CCS Disability Action.

Rodney Hide’s comments come less than a year after New Zealand ratified the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities.

“Mr. Hide’s comments go against at least 5 of the UN Convention’s 8 guiding principles. This is an embarrassment for the Government. New Zealand has long been seen as a leader in disability rights and these comments represent a huge step backwards,” says Viv Maidaborn.

Rodney Hide’s comments aside, CCS Disability Action agrees that building regulations need to be made easier for all New Zealanders.

“For a long time building designs have excluded disabled people. Up and down the country there are homes, workplaces, shopping malls and community resources like libraries that are off limits to disabled people because they aren’t accessible,” adds Viv Maidaborn.

CCS Disability Action has been active in this area setting up an organisation to tackle this very problem. Represented by former Consumers Institute CEO David Russell, Lifemark, aims to promote building designs that feature usability, adaptability, accessibility, inclusion and lifetime value without significant costs.

“This isn’t just about one workplace at a fixed point in time. A building that is made accessible for disabled people is also going to be useful for big people, families with pushchairs, elderly people with limited mobility and anyone who has ever picked up an injury playing rugby,” adds Viv Maidaborn.

This is a press release from CCS Disability Action

It really is a disappointing pricing policy, in my opinion. So many other venues, for both sport and other forms of entertainment, offer discounted wheelchair tickets or a buy-one-get-one-free policy, as more often than not wheelchair users have to bring a friend or support person of some description. At $350/ticket (which is what Eric Clapton’s wheelchair-using fans were asked to fork out), it makes a good night out roll in at around $700, not to mention taxis/food/drink.

What are your thoughts? Should the govt legislate that all entertainment venues must provide discounted ticketing options for disabled patrons? Leave a comment below.