Attitudes to Downs Syndrome

I was standing in the kitchen of our other Sydney office yesterday, when in came a woman with Downs Syndrome pushing a vacuum cleaner. My boss, who was showing me the facilities, introduced her as Claire and told me that she was the real boss of the site. While we chatted with her, Claire opened the dishwasher to a gush of steam (she had obviously arrived knowing that it would have just finished the cycle) and began stacking away the cups, cutlery and plates. The local staff all greeted her warmly as they came in for a cup of coffee.

I recognised Claire as having Downs because my sister is the same. These days she lives a good life in her own flat in a country town, with carers who come to take her out each day, but she misses doing valued work in the city. Before she moved to join my parents, she was the most efficient clothes hanger in a department store and a much-loved waitress at Vaucluse House Tearooms.

This is all in great contrast to the life of people afflicted with Downs in Sri Lanka. In my whole time there, I only saw one such person. He was a happy young boy whose mother ran the restaurant we were eating at. When I expressed my surprise, she told me that most Sri Lankans were embarrassed by having such children and kept them out of the public eye. She was trying to change that. She wanted the government to provide special schools and facilities for children like hers. Unfortunately, most parents lacked the time or inclination to help her fight – or perhaps they were just too embarrassed.

When I looked for any sign of such support in Sri Lanka, I discovered Diri Daru Piyasa (Special Children’s Unit), which was set up in 2011 near the capital. This seems to me to be a fantastic step forward, but it will likely take many years for similar support to be provided in more remote areas, just as the support for my sister varies by her location.