Ambrose Murangira

Sustainable Impact for Disability Inclusion

recent posts

about

  • Staying Relevant as Disability Inclusion Advisors in the Age of AI

    As a Senior Disability Inclusion Advisor who has been conducting Disability Inclusion Academies, I have observed something interesting in recent trainings. Whenever a question is asked, some participants quickly turn to AI. In group work presentations, I have also seen responses that are clearly AI-generated. The answers are often neat, well-structured, and sometimes even impressive. They define disability inclusion well and mention accessibility, reasonable accommodation, participation, non-discrimination, and inclusive programming. On the surface, they sound correct.

    This has made me reflect deeply on the future of Disability Inclusion Advisory Services. If AI can answer many of the questions we used to answer, what then remains for us as human advisors? How do Disability Inclusion Advisors remain relevant and valuable in this changing world of work? More importantly, how do we use our added advantage, especially lived experience, to support development partners in becoming genuinely disability inclusive?

    I am writing this article to share my reflections with fellow Disability Inclusion Advisors. I do not see AI as an enemy. I see it as a tool. It can support us, speed our work, help us prepare, and even challenge us to sharpen our thinking. But AI should not replace the deeper human work that makes disability inclusion meaningful. Our value is not simply in giving answers. Our value is in helping people understand, feel, own, and act on those answers.

    AI can define disability inclusion, explain the social model of disability, draft a Disability Inclusion Action Plan, prepare a training outline, generate a checklist for accessible meetings, and summarize a policy. It can even provide examples of reasonable accommodation in education, employment, agriculture, or digital work. These are useful contributions. A Disability Inclusion Advisor who completely ignores AI may miss an important opportunity to work more efficiently.

    But AI cannot walk into a room and read the silence. It cannot notice when a program manager is uncomfortable discussing disability. It cannot sense when a partner is using polite language to hide institutional resistance. It cannot observe that a young person with a disability in the room is present but not participating because the facilitation method is not accessible. It cannot feel the difference between a partner who is genuinely committed and one who is only complying because a funder has asked for disability inclusion.

    That is where the human advisor remains irreplaceable.

    In my work, I have learned that disability inclusion is rarely blocked by a lack of information alone. Many organizations now know the right words. They know that persons with disabilities should be included. They know that reasonable accommodation is important. They know that accessibility matters. They know that policies should not discriminate. The real gap is often in the “how.”

    How do we identify young persons with disabilities in rural areas without turning them into project symbols? How do we make a training accessible when the budget was prepared without reasonable accommodation? How do we support a Deaf participant when no sign language interpreter was planned for? How do we convince senior management that disability inclusion is not charity, but a matter of rights, quality, reach, and institutional performance? How do we ensure that persons with disabilities are not only counted in reports but also meaningfully shaping decisions?

    AI can provide a list of options. A human advisor helps the organization choose options that are realistic, ethical, affordable, and contextually appropriate. That is advisory work.

    This is why Disability Inclusion Advisors must stop seeing themselves only as people who answer technical questions. In the age of AI, the strongest advisor will be the one who can diagnose the real problem behind the question. When a partner says, “We need disability awareness training,” the immediate response should not always be to prepare slides. The advisor should pause and ask: What is really happening here? Is the problem attitude? Is it recruitment? Is it inaccessible communication? Is it fear of cost? Is it weak leadership? Is it a lack of disability data? Is it tokenistic participation? Is it a lack of confidence among staff?

    The question asked is not always the real issue. Human advisors must become skilled at uncovering the issue beneath the surface.

    There is also something powerful about lived experience. In this era of AI, those with lived experience, when used properly, will provide support that truly makes sense. Lived experience is not just a personal story. It is a form of knowledge. It helps us understand how systems are experienced from the other side. It allows us to see what others may not. It gives texture to technical advice.

    For example, AI may say, “Provide information in accessible formats.” That is correct. But a Deaf advisor, or an advisor who has worked closely with Deaf communities, may ask deeper questions. Is the information available in sign language? Is the sign language culturally and linguistically appropriate? Who translated it? Was it tested with Deaf users? Is the video visually clear? Are the captions accurate? Is the platform affordable to access? Does the community trust the source? These details determine whether an intervention is truly accessible or only appears accessible on paper.

    The same applies to other impairments and lived realities. A wheelchair user may immediately notice that an “accessible venue” has a ramp that is too steep. A person with a visual impairment may know that a digital platform is technically online but impossible to navigate with a screen reader. A person with a psychosocial disability may recognize that a program environment is full of pressure, stigma, and silence, even when the policy says inclusion is valued. A parent of a child with a disability may understand the hidden costs of participation in ways that a checklist cannot capture.

    This does not mean that only persons with disabilities can advise on disability inclusion. It means that disability inclusion advice is stronger when it is informed by lived experience, respectful proximity, humility, and the meaningful participation of persons with disabilities. AI can generate content about inclusion. Human advisors, especially those grounded in lived experience and community realities, can help partners understand what inclusion feels like in practice.

    Another area where human advisors have a strong advantage is in relationship-building. Disability inclusion is not implemented by documents alone. It is implemented by people. People need to trust the advisor. They need to feel safe enough to admit what they do not know. They need to be challenged without being humiliated. They need to see disability inclusion not as an external demand but as part of their own institutional responsibility.

    AI cannot build long-term trust with an OPD leader, a university disability focal person, a government officer, a program manager, or a young Disability Inclusion Facilitator. AI cannot sit with a partner after a difficult meeting to help them find a way forward. AI cannot mentor a young person with a disability who is preparing to facilitate their first session. AI cannot negotiate gently with a senior manager who fears that inclusion will be too expensive. These are human tasks.

    This is why the future Disability Inclusion Advisor must be a facilitator of change, not merely a trainer. Training remains important, but training alone does not create inclusion. Many organizations have been trained several times yet remain inaccessible. Change happens when training is connected to planning, budgeting, leadership, accountability, implementation, and follow-up.

    A good advisor helps partners move from awareness to action. This includes supporting them in developing realistic Disability Inclusion Action Plans, costing reasonable accommodations, reviewing recruitment systems, improving data collection, engaging OPDs, making communication accessible, redesigning services, and monitoring progress. It also means returning to the same partner after the training excitement has worn off and asking, respectfully but firmly, “What has changed?”

    In the age of AI, Disability Inclusion Advisors should also become more sector-specific. General disability inclusion knowledge is now easy to find. What partners need is practical guidance tailored to their sector. Inclusion in higher education is not the same as inclusion in agriculture. Inclusion in the digital economy is not the same as inclusion in health services. Inclusion in the creative arts is not the same as inclusion in financial services. Each sector has its own actors, barriers, opportunities, risks, and language.

    A strong advisor should be able to say, “This is how disability inclusion works in your sector. This is where exclusion typically occurs. This is what you can change immediately. This is what requires budget. This is what must be built into your systems. This is how to meaningfully involve persons with disabilities. This is how to measure whether progress is real.”

    That level of practical guidance does not come from copying an AI response. It comes from field experience, observation, listening, testing, failing, adapting, and learning with partners.

    I also believe that human advisors must strengthen their evidence and accountability. The future will not reward advisors who only speak beautifully about inclusion. It will reward those who can demonstrate change. Partners need support to answer key questions: Who was reached? Who was left out? What changed in the budget? What changed in recruitment? What changed in communication? What reasonable accommodations were provided? What did persons with disabilities say about the support? What barriers remain? What has become institutional practice rather than a project activity?

    AI can help us organize evidence, write reports, and summarize findings. But the advisor must know which evidence matters, how to collect it ethically, how to interpret it, and how to use it to influence decisions. Evidence must not only satisfy reporting requirements. It must also help organizations learn and improve.

    The point is not that AI is weak and humans are strong. That would be too simplistic. AI excels at speed, structure, language, and access to general information. Human advisors excel at judgment, trust, lived experience, ethical reasoning, facilitation, and contextual adaptation. The best Disability Inclusion Advisor will know how to combine both.

    Use AI to prepare better. Use it to draft, compare, simplify, summarize, and generate ideas. But do not let AI replace your thinking. Do not present AI-generated answers without testing them against lived reality. Do not let partners believe that producing a document means inclusion has happened. Inclusion is not a document. Inclusion is a change in power, practice, access, attitude, systems, and accountability.

    For Disability Inclusion Advisors, the challenge before us is clear. We must move beyond being information providers. We must become trusted companions in institutional change. We must help development partners translate commitment into practice. We must use our lived and professional experience, along with our relationships, to make disability inclusion real, not decorative.

    AI can generate knowledge. Human advisors create movement. AI can produce answers. Human advisors help people care about the answers, own them, adapt them, and act on them. AI can draft a plan. Human advisors help make the plan politically feasible, ethically grounded, practically implemented, and accountable to people with disabilities.

    That is where our relevance lies.

    In this new world of work, the Disability Inclusion Advisor who remains valuable is not the one who fears AI. It is the one who uses AI wisely while becoming even more human in their practice: more observant, more ethical, more grounded, more relational, more practical, and more accountable to the people with disabilities whose lives and rights are at the center of this work.

  • From policy to practice: How our Disability Inclusion Advisors are supporting Universities change mindsets and systems

    I ended the year on a meaningful note, just before starting my final annual leave for 2025: training Makerere University’s top management on how to make disability inclusion work in practice for (1) classrooms, (2) Makerere University’s e-learning environment, and (3) lecture instruction.

    The room itself was a strong signal of institutional commitment. The engagement brought together senior decision-makers and implementers, including the Deputy Vice Chancellor (AA), Deans, College Principals, Council members, School and College Registrars, programme managers, and other academic leaders. Before my session, Makerere University teams presented practical examples of how mindset change and system change are already being embedded in the university’s daily work. Thanks to our partnership. The presentations did not just “talk about inclusion”, they demonstrated how inclusion becomes routine through policy objectives, clarified rights and responsibilities, and operational structures that can be tracked and improved over time.

    This blog reflects that moment and what it represents: how our team of Disability Inclusion Advisors is supporting universities to move from goodwill and compliance to quality, equity, and institutional excellence.

    A simple formula that changes the conversation

    One of the most practical contributions during the day was a formula that many leaders immediately related to:

    Disability = impairment + barriers.

    This matters because it shifts attention from “fixing the person” to improving the environment and the system. Many persons live with impairments, but disability becomes most visible when barriers block access, participation, and success.

    I often use my own example. I am a Deaf man. Deafness is my impairment. Disability becomes real in a lecture room when communication is designed only for hearing people, for example when there is no sign language interpretation, no captions, no visual structure, and no accessible ways to ask questions. In that moment, the barrier, not the person, determines who can participate.

    That same logic applies across the university journey: call for applications, admission, orientation, classroom learning, social life, assessments, graduation, internships, and transition into employment. Inclusion fails when barriers appear at any of these points.

    The stories that exposed the barriers, and why they guide solutions

    The workshop used short stories that made barriers visible in a way that statistics rarely achieve (watch the full video at https://cap-able.com/understanding-disability-inclusion/).

    Story 1: Musa and the “invisible exam”

    Musa, a student with a visual impairment, arrived for a test. The lecturer wrote questions on the blackboard, and Musa could not access them. The “solution” offered was for Musa to go to a resource centre, but it was closed. Musa was left negotiating for access while the exam clock kept moving.

    This is a classic example of how a system can unintentionally exclude. The issue was not Musa’s impairment. The barrier was an assessment process designed around one format and one assumption: that everyone reads from a board at the same speed, in the same way.

    Story 2: Robert and the inclusive advert that became exclusion

    Robert, a Deaf job seeker, applied to an organisation whose advert encouraged persons with disabilities to apply. He was shortlisted. At the interview, no one on the panel could communicate in sign language, and no interpreter was arranged. His presence was treated like an inconvenience rather than a responsibility.

    This reveals a painful truth: inclusion cannot stop at the level of policy statements and publicity. It must show up in operational readiness, including communication access and respectful processes.

    A shared lesson

    Both stories point to barriers that often fall into four practical categories that are easy to remember and act on:

    • Attitudes (assumptions, stigma, low expectations)
    • Communication (formats, language, interpretation, captions, braille, accessible digital content)
    • Accessibility (physical access, learning spaces, routes, facilities)
    • Policies and procedures (rules, enforcement, responsibilities, budgeting)

    A useful acronym used in the session was ACAP, referring to Attitude, Communication, Accessibility, with policies and procedures repeatedly emphasised as the system layer that makes improvements consistent.

    What Makerere University’s own presentations revealed about institutionalization of Disability Inclusion

    The most encouraging part of the day was that Makerere University’s presenters did not position disability inclusion as a side project. They presented it as an institutional duty, with clear objectives and responsibilities that can be implemented across units.

    1) Policy objectives that anchor planning and accountability

    Makerere’s policy framing emphasised four objectives that are practical and measurable:

    1. Make education, employment, and campus facilities accessible for all.
    2. Provide resources and facilities to foster a supportive learning and working environment, including assistive technologies and reasonable adjustments.
    3. Foster positive informed behaviour and attitudes among students and staff towards persons with disabilities.
    4. Remove participation barriers by supporting development of reasonable adjustment plans and academic integration plans.

    This is the structure of system change: it names outcomes, not intentions.

    2) Rights that must be experienced, not simply stated

    A key slide on rights of students and staff with disabilities captured what inclusion should look like in real life:

    • Access to physical infrastructure (ramps, accessible toilets, walkways, signage, lifts where possible)
    • Access to learning materials in appropriate formats (braille, large print, audio, digital, captioned videos)
    • Use of assistive devices and technologies
    • Reasonable accommodations in assessments and examinations (extra time, alternative formats)
    • Protection from harassment, discrimination, or exploitation
    • Fair recruitment, retention, and promotion for staff with disabilities

    These rights connect directly to the barriers raised during the discussion, especially around exams, lecture access, and staff inclusion.

    3) Responsibilities that distribute leadership across the institution

    Institutionalization becomes real when responsibilities are clearly assigned.

    Makerere University’s responsibilities included:

    • providing an inclusive teaching and learning environment
    • establishing and supporting a Disability Support Unit or Disability Resource Centre
    • ensuring ICT systems and websites meet accessibility standards
    • training staff on disability inclusion, awareness, and rights
    • integrating disability issues into planning, budgeting, and reporting
    • working with partners and donors to expand assistive technologies and infrastructure

    Colleges and academic leaders’ responsibilities included:

    • identifying and supporting students with disabilities in their units
    • providing accessible lectures, tutorials, and assessments
    • offering academic guidance and referral to support services
    • ensuring fieldwork, internships, and practical sessions are inclusive and safe
    • maintaining confidentiality and dignity when handling disability-related information
    • reporting on actions taken to support persons with disabilities

    Even individual responsibility was made practical, for example: using inclusive language, referring to persons by name rather than by disability, asking what support is required, reserving front seats where appropriate, and encouraging registration with the Disability Support Centre.

    This matters because disability inclusion cannot be delivered by one office alone. It must become “how we do things here.”

    What leaders and students surfaced: where systems still break down

    The discussion did not avoid hard issues. Participants raised operational gaps that many universities will recognise:

    • Exam accommodations are not consistently enforced. Students reported negotiating for time extensions that should be automatic, with some invigilators reducing authorised extra time.
    • Access to information still fails at critical points. A student with visual impairment reportedly arrived after an exam had ended, raising questions about how timetables and exam instructions are shared in accessible ways.
    • Course choice and “fitness” debates can create trauma. Participants challenged the practice of steering students away from courses based on assumptions. They asked for support structures that enable students to pursue their aspirations with appropriate accommodations, rather than being redirected by default.
    • Inclusion must go beyond visible impairments. Dyslexia and other learning differences were raised as examples of barriers that are not identifiable by appearance and require assessment and multidisciplinary support.
    • Internship supervision is often rigid. A student with low vision described being required to submit handwritten lesson plans when a soft copy was more accessible, revealing a barrier created by supervision norms and suspicion rather than evidence.
    • Staff inclusion needs stronger attention. Council-level representation highlighted how disability can affect work performance without reasonable accommodations, such as screen adaptations or assistive technology, and the need for fair staff housing and workplace adjustments.
    • Confidence and self-esteem are system issues too. Low self-esteem among students and staff with disabilities was discussed, showing why counselling, peer support, and respectful practices are part of inclusion.

    These are exactly the points where mindset and systems meet. A policy exists, but the lived experience depends on whether frontline practices align with that policy.

    Where our Disability Inclusion Advisors add value: changing mindsets and systems together

    Our team of Disability Inclusion Advisors supports Institutions of higher learning through a dual approach: mindset change and system strengthening. The Makerere engagement illustrated how both are required.

    1) Mindset change: shifting from sympathy to competence and respect

    Mindset change is not motivational talk. It is practical learning that changes everyday decisions, for example:

    • recognising that barriers are created by environments and processes
    • expecting competence from persons with disabilities, while planning for accommodations
    • moving from “special treatment” narratives to rights, dignity, and fairness
    • making staff and students comfortable to disclose needs without fear or stigma
    • treating disability inclusion as an element of teaching quality and student success

    When deans, registrars, wardens, and programme managers adopt this mindset, inclusion becomes easier to institutionalize.

    2) System change: embedding inclusion into the university’s operating model

    System change becomes visible when inclusion is integrated into the “core machinery” of the institution:

    • Planning and budgeting: allocating resources for assistive technologies, sign language interpretation, captioning, accessible transport routes, and disability support staffing
    • Academic processes: accessible course materials, inclusive assessment design, clear procedures for exam accommodations, and tracking compliance across colleges
    • Digital accessibility: ensuring the e-learning environment meets accessibility standards, including captioned video, accessible documents, and compatible platforms for screen readers
    • Human resources and staff inclusion: reasonable accommodations in the workplace, fair recruitment and promotion, and practical adjustments that support performance
    • Monitoring and reporting: requiring units to report actions taken, not as a burden, but as part of quality assurance and institutional accountability

    The three practice areas we focused on: classrooms, e-learning, and lecture instruction

    My session focused on translating institutional commitment into practical steps across three areas that determine daily access.

    1) Classrooms: access, visibility, and dignity

    Inclusive classrooms depend on basics that are often overlooked: seating, sightlines, lighting, circulation space, signage, and accessible routes. Small changes can remove major barriers, for example reserving front seating for learners who need it, improving visibility and lighting, and keeping corridors clear of obstacles.

    These actions protect dignity. No learner should be carried upstairs because lecture rooms are inaccessible. No learner should depend on begging for a seat that enables participation.

    2) Makerere’s e-learning environment: digital inclusion as a quality standard

    Digital learning can either reduce barriers or multiply them. If notes, announcements, assignments, and videos are not accessible, then disability is reproduced online.

    Practical actions include accessible document formats, captions for videos, clear structure and headings, and platform compatibility with assistive technologies. Digital inclusion is increasingly central to the digital economy and to modern university delivery models, so accessibility is now part of academic excellence.

    3) Lecture instruction: inclusive pedagogy for diverse learners

    Lecture instruction is not only about content. It is about design and delivery.

    Inclusive instruction includes clear pacing, structured explanations, accessible slides, visual reinforcement, opportunities for questions in multiple formats, and coordination with interpretation and captioning. Universal Design for Learning principles align well here because they emphasise multiple means of representation, engagement, and expression.

    What “institutionalization of DI” looks like in practice: a Makerere example

    Makerere University’s approach, as presented in the workshop, illustrates several markers of institutionalization of DI:

    • A clear policy logic with objectives that cover education, employment, attitudes, and barrier removal
    • Recognition of rights in physical, digital, academic, and employment domains
    • Distributed responsibilities across the university, colleges, academic leaders, and individuals
    • A functional Disability Support Centre that provides services such as braille support and practical assistance
    • Leadership participation, including governance-level attention through council representation
    • Commitment to training and awareness sessions, including disability awareness sessions for staff

    These are the building blocks that enable a university to move from isolated good practice to consistent inclusion across departments.

    Closing reflection: inclusion is a leadership practice

    A recurring theme across the workshop was that inclusion is not only about policies. Inclusion is about intentional practice, daily decisions, and operational readiness.

    That is why working with top management matters. When Deputy Vice Chancellors, Deans, Principals, Registrars, Council members, and programme leaders agree on responsibilities, allocate resources, and expect compliance with reasonable accommodations, inclusion stops being optional and becomes part of the university’s standard of excellence.

    Our Disability Inclusion Advisors will continue supporting institutions of higher education to make this shift, not by prescribing one template, but by strengthening each institution’s ability to identify barriers, design practical solutions, and embed them into systems that last.

    #DisabilityInclusion #InclusiveEducation #InclusivePedagogy #SystemChange #UDL #DigitalAccessibility

  • Owning perspective: Why lived experience is not bias

    This morning, during a conversation about bias, Godfrey and I explored a topic that kept us thinking long after it was over. What started as small talk quickly turned into a deep discussion that lingered in our minds for a while. We laughed, questioned, and challenged each other. By the time we reached the airport, I realized that this small chat had touched on one of the biggest misunderstandings in academic work.

    Reflecting on our conversation, I realized it centered on a common theme in research training: the focus on avoiding bias to preserve scientific integrity. However, over time, I have observed how misleading this advice can be, particularly when studying people, culture, and lived experience.

    Avoiding bias often means ignoring one’s own experiences and insights. It requires researchers to set aside their personal stories and values, as if the truth only belongs to those who observe others’ lives from a distance. However, people’s realities aren’t lab experiments. They are complex, emotional, layered, and meaningful. Pretending we can study them without bringing our humanity into the process doesn’t lead to objectivity; it creates distance.

    In many academic circles, this misunderstanding appears clearly when Deaf researchers present their findings. They are often asked, “But aren’t you biased because you are Deaf?” The same question, however, is rarely asked of hearing researchers who study hearing people. Somehow, neutrality seems to belong only to the majority.

    What occurs when we view lived experience as bias?
    We lose depth. A hearing researcher might miss the subtle visual cues that guide a group conversation in sign language. They might overlook how eye contact, timing, or fatigue influence the flow of communication. We also lose trust, because when Deaf people see that only hearing researchers are considered “objective,” it signals that their own voices, knowledge, and ways of knowing are undervalued. Additionally, we lose fairness, as those who decide what counts as bias often determine what is accepted as truth.

    For me, lived experience is not a weakness; rather, it is wisdom. It helps me understand silence, attention, and connection in ways that books cannot teach. My background provides me with a perspective that enhances, not distorts, my research. The key is to embrace who we are, be open about it, reflect on it, and allow readers to see clearly through our lens.

    Maybe the main question is how to make our perspectives honest and clear. Every researcher has a story. The most responsible thing we can do is to recognize it, learn from it, and use it to create connections of understanding.

    Ultimately, research inclusion should not only consider who is being studied but also who is doing the studying. Equity in knowledge production means opening doors for diverse perspectives, valuing different ways of knowing, and creating systems that trust the insight of those who have lived the realities they study. When research welcomes multiple lenses, it does more than describe the world—it understands it more completely.

    #InclusiveResearch #Reflexivity #DisabilityInclusion #EquityInKnowledge #MurangiraInsights

  • Why good laws have not translated into good lives for persons with disabilities?

    Dear Friends,

    For many years, persons with disabilities in Uganda have shared a simple truth with me. Our laws sound good, and our policy documents promise inclusion, but daily life still falls short. Ramps are absent, forms are not accessible, interpreters are not budgeted, and basic accommodations are delayed. We often blame Parliament or the ministry headquarters. I want to encourage us to look at this issue from a different perspective that might help us act more effectively.

    The street-level perspective

    A street-level perspective centers on where a person interacts with the state, such as at a clinic desk, a parish office, a school bursar window, or a bank teller. Frontline workers interpret rules, meet targets, and solve problems with the tools available to them. Under pressure and with limited time or budgets, they make quick decisions that quietly shape the policy a citizen experiences. If inclusion isn’t straightforward, well-resourced, and easy to see at that counter, even the strongest laws will remain promises on paper.

    How good intentions get lost in daily routines

    Below are brief examples across some kinds of impairment. The environments differ, but the pattern remains the same. Discretion within constraints creates micro-policies that influence lives.

    1) Deaf and hard of hearing

    • Parish program enrollment: A Deaf applicant arrives. No interpreter is present. The officer, facing a long queue, asks the applicant to return with a hearing relative. The formal rule says equal access. The routine says come back when you fit how we work.
    • Clinic counseling: A nurse wants to give detailed HIV information. There is no captioning and no budget line for interpretation. The nurse offers a leaflet in English and moves to the next patient. The guideline promises informed choice. The routine delivers a leaflet that cannot be used.

    2) Visual impairment

    • University registration: Online forms are not screen reader friendly. The help desk suggests that a friend fill in details on the student’s behalf. The official policy says independent access. The routine normalizes dependency.
    • Banking hall: Queue management depends on visual screens. Staff forget to announce turns verbally. The person waits longer or gives up. The policy says fair service order. The routine says those who see the screen go first.

    3) Physical impairment

    • District office visit: The ramp is steep and the toilet is not accessible. A guard suggests using the back entrance through a store room. The rule says dignity and equal access. The routine offers a workaround that signals second-class status.
    • Agriculture subsidy collection: Payment points are far from public transport and there is no seated waiting area. A person who uses crutches leaves without finishing the process. The program intends broad uptake. The routine filters out people with limited stamina.

    4) Intellectual and psychosocial impairment

    • Social protection eligibility interview: Questions are complex and fast. Staff assume refusal when a person needs time or a supporter to rephrase. The rule allows support persons. The routine expects rapid answers without accommodation.
    • Outpatient department: A person with an intellectual impairment becomes anxious in a noisy waiting room. Staff ask the caregiver to come another day. The policy promises reasonable accommodation. The routine moves the challenge out of sight.

    None of these scenes demand hostility. They stem from exercising discretion under constraints. When multiplied by thousands of daily interactions, they become the reality of national implementation.

    The strategic mistake we keep repeating

    Our movement has been effective at shaping laws and policies. This is a significant achievement. The mistake is that we invest far less in the area where policy becomes practice. We celebrate new provisions, then walk away before frontline routines change. We seldom co-create short, practical notes that tell staff what to do tomorrow. We rarely set aside a small, flexible budget for interpretation, accessible formats, personal assistance, or transportation. We seldom train supervisors to ask the only question that matters at the frontline: how will this work in your next shift when the expected tool is missing? We measure adoption of policies, not adoption of routines.

    What changes when we look at the street

    A street-level perspective does not excuse exclusion. It helps us design for reality.

    • Discretion is unavoidable. We can shape it with simple checklists, examples, and quick authorization rules for reasonable accommodation across Deaf, visual, physical, and intellectual impairments.
    • Constraints drive behavior. When time, staff, or tools are scarce, workers simplify. If inclusion is not the simplest path, it will be the path rarely taken.
    • Co-production matters. Outcomes depend on both worker effort and the person’s capacity to engage. If sign language, accessible formats, step-free access, plain language, or a quiet space are missing, many citizens cannot co-produce the outcome. That is a design failure.

    Practical design, not slogans

    Here is a compact action set any ministry, district, university, hospital, or bank can adopt in one quarter. It is disability-inclusive by design and it works across impairment groups.

    1) Write the counter note

    A one to two page instruction for each service that answers four questions in plain language:

    1. What to do today when a Deaf client arrives and there is no interpreter, when a client with visual impairment needs a form, when a wheelchair user faces a barrier, or when a client with an intellectual impairment needs simplified communication.
    2. Which costs count as reasonable accommodation for this service, for example interpretation, braille or large print, personal assistance time, step-free access workarounds, transport support, or a quiet room.
    3. Who can authorize those costs on the spot.
    4. How to document the action quickly, for example a tick box and a receipt photo.

    2) Fund a micro line for access

    Create a small flexible fund at the service point that staff can use for:

    • Sign language interpretation or remote captioning for Deaf clients.
    • Accessible formats for persons with visual impairment, for example braille, large print, or readable PDFs.
    • Personal assistance and short transport support for persons with physical impairments when the site design fails.
    • Plain language materials and supported decision making for persons with intellectual impairments.
      Keep ceilings clear and reporting light.

    3) Track three street-level indicators

    Pick metrics that force attention to practice:

    • Proportion of interactions delivered with the requested accommodation, disaggregated by impairment category.
    • Time from request to first service for clients requiring accommodation.
    • Number of accommodation requests met, with a short reason when not met and the fix attempted.

    4) Run a monthly peer clinic

    Bring five to ten frontline workers together for one hour. Each shares a barrier they faced, the workaround they used, and one change that would make the inclusive action easier next time. Document workable micro routines and revise the counter note.

    5) Involve persons with disabilities in testing

    Pay OPDs representing Deaf, visual, physical, and intellectual impairment to mystery shop services and to co-design improvements. Their feedback will keep the focus on what happens at the counter.

    A human reminder

    Behind every complaint is a person who tried to participate and went home without the service. A Deaf mother who missed counseling because interpretation was not budgeted. A student with visual impairment who relied on a friend to complete a private form. A man who uses a wheelchair and was routed through a store room. A young person with an intellectual impairment who was told to come back later. These are not small inconveniences. They are walls that shape a life.

    Frontline staff usually want to help. Give them a clear one pager, a small budget line, and a supervisor who backs inclusive choices, and they will deliver more than we expect.

    A practical call to action

    If you are in a ministry, district office, university, hospital, bank, or OPD, consider launching a Street-Level Inclusion Pack where you work. The aim is simple, to turn good laws into good lives across various types of impairments.

  • What language do persons born Deaf think in?

    A few years ago, one of my supervisors for my master’s degree program asked me which language I dream in as a Deaf person. It was a thought-provoking question. Today, in a WhatsApp group for scholars, a PhD student asked: “In which language do persons born Deaf think?” I would therefore like to talk about this briefly. Someone out there could do more research. I will highlight a few points.

    1. Those born deaf without early language

    For many Deaf persons, access to language is delayed. If a child is born Deaf and is never introduced to sign language, they might grow up without a structured linguistic system. However, this does not mean they lack the ability to think. Their thoughts often manifest as pictures, emotions, and feelings. They may imagine what they want, retrieve memories through visual images, or connect ideas via sensations rather than words. In fact, some Deaf adults who have experienced this describe their early inner world as “like a silent movie.”

    2. Those with early sign language exposure

    When a Deaf child has access to a natural sign language from birth or early childhood, their thoughts are structured in sign language. They “see” themselves signing in their minds, sometimes with full facial expressions, movements, and even role-shifts. This inner signing is just as real as inner speech for people who are deaf or hard of hearing. Many describe it as watching themselves sign on an invisible screen in their mind’s eye. For them, thought flows in a visual-spatial form, rich and expressive.

    3. Bilingual Deaf persons

    Some Deaf persons are exposed to both sign language and written or spoken language. In such cases, their thinking becomes more flexible. They might imagine themselves signing when preparing for a conversation with Deaf peers, but then switch to visualized English words (or another written language) when writing an essay or email. It is common for them to blend both signs, words, and images, allowing them to flow together depending on the task or audience.

    4. The broader point

    These variations remind us of an important truth: thinking does not rely on sound. Whether it’s in sign, images, words, or a combination, Deaf people think as deeply and richly as anyone else. Their inner worlds are simply shaped by the languages and communication methods available to them.

    Reflection

    So, in which language do persons born Deaf think? The answer is: it depends. Some think in pictures, some in sign language, some in written words, and some in a mixture of these. What matters most is not the form of thought, but whether Deaf children have early and full access to language. Because language, whether signed or spoken, is the key that unlocks not only communication, but also imagination, reasoning, and dreams.

    That is my brief reflection. Someone out there could take this further, perhaps through deeper research, narratives, or comparative studies. But I hope this sparks curiosity, and maybe the next time you wonder how someone thinks, you will remember: thought is universal, even if its “language” looks different.

  • Why do Deaf Muslims go to Church in Uganda? Let’s talk about it

    I belong to many different WhatsApp groups for the Deaf, and sometimes the short exchanges there say a lot more than they seem to at first. Today evening (EAT), in the “UNAD – Deaf Community Forum,”

    Harriet wrote: “Abdul and Nasser, I see many Deaf Muslims going to church instead of the mosque.”

    Fatuma quickly replied:

    “Church Sunday is socializing. Friday they go to mosque.”

    This simple back-and-forth stopped me in my tracks. As a Deaf person, I have observed the same thing, but we rarely pause to unpack what it really means. Allow me to share some reflections, maybe together we can build on this conversation.

    Church as a place of belonging

    For many Deaf people, church is more than prayer. It is a space for friendship, community, and connection. Sunday services often come with opportunities to socialize, meet peers, and feel included. In some churches, there are Deaf fellowships, sign language interpreters, or even Deaf choirs, making participation possible and enjoyable. It is not just about religion; it is about being part of something bigger where you are seen and valued.

    Living in two worlds

    From the outside, it may look like Deaf Muslims are “abandoning” their faith by going to church. But Fatuma’s comment reminds us: Friday remains a day of devotion at the mosque, while Sunday is for socializing at the church. This is not contradiction. It is balance. It is the ability to live in two worlds, honoring faith while also seeking the human need for connection.

    When accessibility shapes choices

    Behind this pattern lies an uncomfortable truth: many mosques are not yet accessible for Deaf people. Sermons are rarely interpreted, and learning Islamic teachings in sign language is still limited. In contrast, some churches have invested in making their spaces welcoming and accessible. Naturally, this makes church more attractive, not as a substitute for Islam, but as a place where Deaf persons feel included.

    More than worship: Building social networks

    Going to church also expands social opportunities. For Deaf Muslims, it may open doors to new friendships, community support, and even economic opportunities. These networks are powerful sources of confidence and belonging. What might seem like a simple choice of where to worship is, in fact, a practical strategy for navigating a world that often excludes Deaf people.

    A question for us all

    Harriet and Fatuma’s exchange may have been brief, but it opens up big questions. What does it mean when one religious space is experienced as more welcoming than another? What would it take for mosques to be just as inclusive through sign language, Deaf leadership, and recognition of Deaf culture?

    The truth is: Deaf Muslims are not confused. They are adapting, balancing, and making the best of the options available to them. Their choices should challenge all of us to think about how inclusive our religious and social spaces really are.

    So, what do you think? Have you seen this dynamic in your own communities? How might faith spaces (mosques, churches, or others) do more to welcome Deaf people fully?

  • Visual overload is real: Reflections from a Deaf Professional

    By Ambrose Murangira

    Not long ago, I shared an update on LinkedIn about something that resonates deeply with many Deaf persons: visual overload. It is a challenge that I, too, navigate in both professional and online spaces. While my post sparked some great conversations, I felt I only scratched the surface of this complex experience due to the platform’s word limits.

    With this blog, I have the opportunity to delve deeper and provide more context, share personal stories, and offer practical insights. This post marks the beginning of that journey.

    Let’s take a closer look at visual overload. Not just as a concept, but as a real and pressing barrier to inclusion that many of us face every day.

    What Is Visual Overload?

    Visual overload occurs when our brains are overwhelmed with more visual information than they can process. It’s similar to having too many tabs open on your computer, except it’s happening in your mind. For individuals who are Deaf or those who depend heavily on visual cues, such as some people with autism or certain learning disabilities, this isn’t just a minor annoyance; it’s a challenge they face every day.

    Think about a typical virtual meeting. Picture this: a speaker is talking rapidly, a PowerPoint presentation is being shared, a sign language interpreter is tucked away in a tiny corner of the screen, captions are scrolling at the bottom, the chat box is buzzing with side conversations, and on top of that, notifications and emails keep popping up in the background.

    Now, try to process all of that visually without the option to just listen and let some things slide by. It’s overwhelming, right? It’s likely that you would miss critical information, struggle to keep your focus, and end up feeling more drained than informed by the end.

    This is the reality of visual overload, and for many, it’s a constant hurdle in navigating everyday interactions.

    It’s Not Just Fatigue—It’s a Barrier

    When we talk about visual overload, we often think it’s just about tired eyes or time spent in front of a screen. But for many, it becomes a real barrier to participation.

    We often assume that if something is made “visual,” it’s automatically “accessible.” However, true visual accessibility is more than just being able to see it; it’s about managing that visual information effectively.

    When there’s a clash of multiple visual inputs vying for our attention, especially if there’s no structure, pauses, or user-friendly design, inclusion starts to fall apart. Those of us who rely solely on visual input can face a number of challenges in these environments, like:

    – Missing out on important information or only getting part of it

    – Feeling mentally exhausted

    – Dealing with stress and anxiety

    – Struggling to participate and losing confidence

    – Being present physically, but feeling excluded emotionally

    What’s tough is that this struggle often goes unnoticed by those who don’t experience it.

    A Personal Reflection

    I can’t count the number of times I have been in high-stakes meetings where everything “looked” right, slides were there, interpreters were present, captions were rolling, and chat was moderated. Still, I felt overwhelmed. It was a juggling act: watching the interpreter, reading the captions, glancing at the slides, and keeping an eye on the chat, all while trying to think and contribute meaningfully.

    It wasn’t that the content was particularly difficult; the challenge lay in how it was visually communicated. Unlike my hearing colleagues, who can close their eyes and simply listen, I don’t have that luxury. My brain is constantly engaged in decoding visual information, and that effort takes its toll on me.

    What We Need: Visual Equity, Not Visual Excess

    Visual overload points to an essential aspect that often gets overlooked in inclusion efforts: equity isn’t about making everything the same.

    To truly include those who rely on visual communication, we need to rethink how we design our communication environments, especially in fast-paced, multi-sensory settings. Here are some practical ways to foster visual equity:

    1. Avoid Visual Multitasking: Don’t overload the screen with complex slides while someone speaks quickly. Include pauses between visual and spoken content to allow for transitions.
    2. Integrate Interpreters and Captions Seamlessly: Keep the interpreter in a larger view, speak at a reasonable pace, and avoid sharing multiple screens unless absolutely necessary.
    3. Simplify Slides: Use clean layouts, minimize text, and emphasize key points instead of just reading from the slides.
    4. Provide Materials Ahead of Time: Share slides, transcripts, or discussion guides before the meeting. This helps everyone, especially Deaf participants, to orient themselves and follow along better.
    5. Build in Visual Rest: Just as we take auditory breaks to combat “Zoom fatigue,” we must also create intentional visual breaks to reduce cognitive overload. Schedule short pauses during longer meetings.
    6. Ask, Don’t Assume: It’s crucial to check in with those you want to include. Ask them what works best for them; universal design can’t replace insights gained from user-informed design.

    Why This Matters for Disability Inclusion

    As a disability inclusion advisor, I often get asked how to make workplaces, programs, and digital spaces more accessible. The focus usually is on what can be added, like sign language interpreters, captions, and alternative formats, which are all essential. However, accessibility isn’t just about adding tools; it’s about designing the flow of information to respect everyone’s cognitive and sensory abilities.

    Inclusion can’t be an afterthought or based on the idea that anything visible is inherently accessible. Real inclusion means acknowledging and tackling hidden forms of exclusion, like overwhelming visibility that can lead to confusion.

    Conclusion: Creating Space for True Inclusion

    Visual overload serves as a powerful reminder that true inclusion goes beyond checklists, it’s a mindset. For individuals who depend on visual input to communicate, learn, and engage, equity means providing the time to see, the space to focus, and the permission to pause.

    Going forward, this blog will continue to explore these often-overlooked aspects of accessibility, shifting from technical fixes to deeper, systemic changes. I’m excited to share more insights from my journey, along with examples, evidence, and concrete suggestions.

    Let’s continue this journey of learning and growing together.

  • Hello World: Introducing my Disability Inclusion Blog!

    I am excited to announce the launch of my new blog—ambrosemurangira.wordpress.com, where we will explore, in depth and without word-count constraints, the“How” of disability inclusion. Over the past decade, I have shared reflections on Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn drawing on both my lived experience as a Deaf person and my professional journey as a Senior Expert in Disability Inclusion. This blog offers a dedicated space for rigorous discussion, peer learning, and the exchange of emerging insights.

    Why this Blog matters
    1.   From Theory to Practice
    Having worked across various settings, from community-based organizations of persons with disabilities (OPDs) to mainstream NGOs, from roles as a timekeeper to serving as CEO of a national umbrella organization and as a council member evaluating government programs, I have firsthand experience of the dynamics of inclusion and exclusion. This blog will focus on evidence-based strategies and practical tools drawn from those experiences.

    2.   Deep dives on “How”
    Here, we will unpack concrete processes and tools that you can apply immediately:

    • Designing inclusive programs
      Step‑by‑step guidance for co‑creating Disability Inclusion Action Plans (DIAPs) that align with the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD), including stakeholder mapping, barrier analysis, budgeting, and monitoring frameworks.
    • Sector‑specific case studies
      In‑depth looks at how to integrate inclusion in agriculture value chains, digital‑economy initiatives, creative‑arts projects, and care‑economy services—highlighting successes, challenges, and lessons learned.
    • Mentorship and capacity building
      Practical frameworks for establishing peer‑to‑peer support systems, buddy networks, and coaching circles that empower emerging inclusion practitioners and ensure sustained skill transfer.
    • Measuring impact
      Tools for defining clear indicators, collecting qualitative and quantitative data, and validating progress so you can demonstrate the real‑world effects of your inclusion efforts to donors and partners.

    3.   Interactive Learning Community
    This is not a monologue. I invite you,practitioners, researchers, policymakers, and persons with disabilities, to contribute questions, share examples, and challenge assumptions. Together, we will iterate on tools, refine methodologies, and spotlight emerging issues (e.g., inclusive AI, accessible public transport, care economy integration).

    A Call to engage
    Today’s question is not what we ought to do to make the world more inclusive, but how we remove the concrete barriers that prevent full participation of persons with disabilities. I look forward to learning from your insights as much as I share mine.

    All views expressed here are mine alone and do not represent those of my employer or other associates. Let’s learn together—one post at a time.