Tag / inclusiveness

by Yumnah Jones

Nicolette Ripepi

Nicolette Ripepi, founder of Autism Connect

Nicolette Ripepi, the founder of Autism Connect, and a certified neuroscience and cognitive coach, specializing in autism-specific education, has been strongly advocating for children with autism since the early 2000s. She is a mother, a champion, and an advocate for voices that are often sidelined and overlooked in most societies around the world. Through her lived experience, she has encountered innumerable challenges but has continuously defied the odds. Her story shows us that resilience is the ability to pull through any hardship, and oftentimes, the changes we want to see in the world around us need to be trailblazed by the actions of our own hands.   

This is Nicolette’s story …

As the youngest of my family, I grew up in a household surrounded by love, support, and a sense of belonging, but when I was six years old, my father died of lung cancer, leaving my mother single-handedly struggling to raise six children, which included my intellectually challenged brother, Kevin. Watching my mother struggle has vividly informed my perspective that nothing in life comes easy, but that through faith in God and family togetherness, you can overcome any difficulty.

As a family, we grew closer during the emotionally challenging times, such as dealing with the grief of losing my father, taking turns to tend to Kevin, who was shunned by the schooling system as he was labelled “retarded,” and dealing with the socioeconomic challenges that automatically came with living during the Apartheid era. Life went on and we adjusted to our new normal. Through it all, I managed to graduate from secondary school and went straight into the workforce. It was here that I met my future husband, Jeremy. We fell in love and dated for a good four years before I fell pregnant with our first child. We got married that same year, filled with so many dreams and so much hope for our future together.

During our first year of marriage, after the birth of our daughter, Tammy, Jeremy was diagnosed with a hereditary condition, diabetes. Although it was hard, we managed with regular medical appointments, changes in diet, medication, and the daily adjustments that came with a diagnosis of such a nature. Four years after we had our daughter, I fell pregnant with our son, Tyler, and we were all over the moon, especially Jeremy. Being the rugby fanatic that he was, becoming a father to a son really excited him as he had all these dreams for his little boy, the way fathers do for their sons. But what was supposed to be an exciting time for everyone soon turned into heartache for us because the dreams we had had to die to give birth to God’s Plan for our lives.

In 2004, Tyler was born and the household was abuzz with excitement and life felt like it came full circle with our pigeon pair. Tyler, like our daughter, Tammy, was an adorable baby, filling our lives with so much love and warmth but as the days stretched into months and the months were heading into two years, I started noticing that Tyler wasn’t progressing as he should for his age. He would display frustration by biting his knuckles, banging his head against the walls, and didn’t respond to his name, or would stare long into space. Everyone around me said, “Ag, he’s a boy, boys take longer to develop” or “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine” and even the doctor had his own theories about what was wrong with Tyler but my maternal instinct knew something was amiss. I eventually went back to the doctor and pushed for a second opinion. Eventually, at 2 years and 10 months old, Tyler was diagnosed with Level 3 Non-Verbal Autism Spectrum Disorder which meant he required substantial daily support.

I felt relieved. Relieved that finally I had an answer, and could work with what we knew because not knowing is far worse than knowing. It did not make the road ahead any easier, but it gave me a place to begin. With this, I went to autism specialists, as help for autistic children in the early 2000s was not readily available to the general public. Either you had money to consult a specialist or you did not. Seeing these experts, however, was proving to be financially draining for our family, compounded by Jeremy’s trouble with accepting the diagnosis. It pained him deeply that he turned to substance abuse to cope with Tyler’s diagnosis. Meanwhile, I did not have the liberty of time to sit in my grief as I eventually became the sole breadwinner, took care of Tammy, Jeremy, and had to attend to Tyler.

It got to the point where crèches were not accepting Tyler due to his autism. Like my brother, Kevin, the same reality was now becoming Tyler’s. Shunned by the schooling system, I had to find a way and this was when an idea struck me. I asked Jeremy’s aunt to take care of Tyler while I still worked in the corporate sector. We bought a small table, housed it at my home and she babysat Tyler and two other autistic children. God bless her soul, she taught them shapes, and colours, and anything they could learn at foundational level because learning for an autistic child is very different from that of a child who does not view the world through an autistic lens.

With time I came to realise that if this was the reality of my situation, how many more families were out there struggling with a lack of support, from financial to moral, and just needed a space where they could be welcomed and have a sense of belonging in a world that often excludes children and families with autistic children. But by then, my marriage had reached breaking point and sadly ended in 2011. Although our marriage had ended, I continued to care for Jeremy while focusing my energy on being a champion for our son and children on the autism spectrum. Those difficult years strengthened my resolve to ensure that other families would not have to walk the same journey alone. With this, and Jeremy’s moral support, I formally established Autism Connect in 2013 and left the corporate sector to manage my organisation full-time.

Autism Connect was established in our hometown, Mitchell’s Plain, with the belief that no neurodivergent child should ever be left behind. What began as a deeply personal journey has grown into an organisation dedicated to providing specialised education, skills development, and support for autistic children, young adults, and their families. At Autism Connect, we recognise that every autistic individual is unique. Rather than expecting learners to fit into a conventional education system, we tailor our programmes to meet each learner’s individual needs, strengths, and interests. Through this learner-centred approach, we strive to foster independence, communication, confidence, and social development while creating an environment where every learner is valued and supported.

Our Early Learning Centre caters to children aged 3 to 16 through structured, individualised educational programmes. Using the internationally recognised TEACCH approach, each learner follows an Individualised Educational Development Plan that incorporates visual supports, sensory routines, and integrated speech and occupational therapy to maximise their developmental potential. Recognising that learning does not end in childhood, we expanded our services to include a Skills and Coaching Centre for young adults aged 18 to 25. The programme focuses on preparing learners for greater independence through life skills development, pre-employment preparation, physical development, and vocational training in areas such as information technology, hospitality, and woodworking.

Beyond education, Autism Connect is committed to building a community of inclusion, understanding, and belonging. We work closely with families, recognising that supporting an autistic individual also means supporting those who walk the journey alongside them. By partnering with parents, caregivers, therapists, educators, and the wider community, we continue to advocate for greater awareness and acceptance of autism. More than a decade after opening our doors, Autism Connect continues to remain true to its founding vision: unlocking the greatness within every learner by providing opportunities that empower autistic children and young adults to develop their abilities, realise their potential, and participate meaningfully in society.

Looking back at my journey, and seeing the impact of Autism Connect on our children and their families, I can say all the challenges and insights from my early years, to growing up with our older brother Kevin, to dealing with the hardships that came with my path, to eventually losing Kevin in 2014 and Jeremy in 2016, all these experiences have enabled me to build the support we now offer to other families.

I won’t lie by saying it is easy. It has never been easy, and it still is not easy. There are days I wish I could just have breathing space, just shut down, relax and unwind, but I can’t. There are many hurdles we face as an organisation with limited resources in light of the greater need for the type of work we do, but that was how I started this organisation. Jeremy and I did our research and started off with the little we knew, and had, but see how it has grown into what it is today. If you had asked me when I bought that table for those three autistic children sitting around it if it would prosper to this, it would have seemed unattainable. But it was through God’s Grace that we are all here today, as part of an inclusive community for autistic children, and it is my hope that going forward, it will continue to bring hope, support, grace, and compassion to families of autistic children in a society that often does not understand the joy that these pure hearts bring us.

If you are interested in learning more about Nicolette or would like to get in contact with her, please reach out via the website https://autismconnect.org.za/, her Facebook page, Autism Connect, or email her at director@autismconnect.org.za.

by Yumnah Jones

Anel Coetzee

Anel Coetzee, founder of the South African Visually Impaired Community (SAVIC)

Anel Coetzee, the founder of SAVIC, is a legal advisor and a former attorney. Her journey to finding her niche has been no easy feat and was fraught with tremendous challenges because of the unbending nature of society to reject that which is deemed different. Her story shows us that with the right support, we can all become contributing citizens of the World and that we should never underestimate the power of the slightest gesture of support as it can facilitate and alleviate the struggles of others as they go about their daily lives.

This is  Anel’s story …

I can feel the cool metal of the railing surrounding my balcony, with my fingertips. I can hear the sounds of moving vehicles and people going about their daily lives, eight floors beneath me. It smells like rain, but for the moment, the sun warms my face, and it is a beautiful day. I know what beauty feels like, I know what it sounds like, and I know it is something that can be experienced by all of our senses, but I do not know what it looks like. In fact, I do not know what anything looks like. In my world, there are only shapes and shadows in which days are either blurred or too bright, with many moving objects and no colours. 

In 1992, I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa with a condition known as Congenital Rubella Syndrome (CRS). It is a condition that occurs when the rubella virus, German measles, in the mother affects the developing baby. There are a myriad of complications associated with CRS but in my case, it affected my retinas.  With damaged retinas and no available cure, I have had to navigate the world depending largely on my other senses.  

Growing up, my childhood was, by all accounts, normal. Apart from some minor adjustments like teaching me to use my remaining senses to accomplish certain tasks, my father, a businessman, and my mother, a teacher, ensured that I, just like my sighted siblings, live an active life. I learnt to ride a bicycle, played hide-and-seek with the neighbourhood children, made my own bed (when I was reminded to), and spent my school holidays climbing trees and swimming in my grandparents’ dam.

Since I could not attend mainstream school with my sisters, I was sent to Prinshof School, a school for visually impaired children. While completing my formative education, I met other children with disabilities who became my friends, for life. However, this educational system, where disabled children are isolated from society and their families, would ultimately become one of the greatest challenges later in my life, because it did not prepare me for life outside the carefully designed and adapted world in which I grew up in.

Through Prinshof, I received a good education, learnt braille and participated in other curricular activities such as the school choir and piano lessons. However, the school did not offer a broad spectrum of sporting activities. With this in mind, my parents decided to enrol me in acrobatic gymnastics after my eldest sister introduced me to it.

With my visual impairment and my love for Barbie’s, I first learnt acrobatic gymnastics through a gymnastic doll. The doll became the tool used to show me how to perform various acrobatic tricks, as I would feel where the doll’s arms and legs were positioned, and then copied those movements with my own body. I practiced this for hours on end and to my astonishment, realized that I was really good at it. I loved walking on my hands, doing back walkovers and challenging myself to what I could do. My introduction to acrobatic gymnastics was “love at first pointed toe” to the extent that I started to participate in competitions, outside of school grounds. Through this exposure. I was starting to become aware that the world was not designed for people with disabilities and that it was up to me to advocate for my individual needs since fellow competitors complained that I was given preferential treatment because the judges pitied me.  It was for the first time in my life that I learnt that perception matters and that it often matters far more than reality.

Consequently, my dance teacher would enrol me without disclosing my disability and the ramification of this was that I could not ask for reasonable accommodation. Thus, prior to the competition period, my parents would take me to the location of competitions to teach me the layout of the stage and to show me where the judges and the audience would be seated. Determined to prove my naysayers wrong, I put in a lot of effort and practice. Finally, in 2002, at the age of 10, I won the South African National Acrobatics Championships in my category, where I was one of approximately eighteen participants, but the only dancer with a disability.

In 2010, I matriculated and decided to pursue a career in law. I registered for a LLB degree at the University of the Free State and in January 2011, my mother and grandmother dropped me off at campus, a five-hours’ drive from home. I was super excited about the new adventures that lay ahead and was eager to start my university lectures.


At 18 years of age and having already experienced my fair share of discrimination and bullying, I thought if I left my white cane at home (which Mom later sent to me within my first month of arrival. What was I thinking right?) and pretended to not have a disability, I would have a better chance of blending in with the crowd and making new friends. But alas, 2011 was the year that I realized how dismally my country has failed me by not providing inclusive education. All of a sudden, I went from a classroom of five learners to a lecture hall of 500 students, with no reasonable accommodation.

Campus life was a challenge as both lecturers and fellow students had no idea how to accommodate or behave around a visually impaired person. Neither did I receive the appropriate orientation and mobility training to navigate the campus. There were also many other disabled students and a limited capacity to timeously convert my textbooks into braille. In most cases, I did not receive my books in time for test and exam preparations and had to write from knowledge acquired during lectures. I subsequently failed my first year and  when I started over, in my second year of university, I started to learn how to use a computer and screen reader and switched from braille study materials to electronic study materials (e-books), which were not very popular at that time.

For most of my able-bodied peers, living in residence with me, the prospect of attending university, was exciting, and their biggest concern was coping with an increased course load and not being awoken by the early morning calls of their parents. As a disabled person, I had to contend with a lack of accessible study materials, a lack of awareness, inaccessible lectures and having to learn to cook for myself and doing my own laundry. It was overwhelming, and the volume of work which included study guides, textbooks and case law was more reading than I have ever done but I pushed ahead.

During the period of my studies, I have acquired so much knowledge on legal subject matters  but the most valuable lessons I have learnt were about myself. On countless occasions, I have wandered unknowingly into male lavatories, approached store mannequins for assistance, walked into doors and knocked over spectacles from people’s faces trying to feel for a seat on trains. I am no stranger to embarrassment and the older I get, the less these incidents hurt my pride. Although I did not blend in and still experienced bullying and ignorance, I chose to not let the actions of others define me. I went on to graduate with an LLB from UFS and completed my articles of clerkship before becoming a practicing attorney.

Securing a job after the completion of my studies was extremely difficult because I was blind and without a driver’s licence. When some of the law firms realized I was visually impaired, I was instantly rejected after initial consideration. Eventually, I was employed by a law firm in Johannesburg and gained valuable experience, but the career path was very taxing as I constantly had to prove myself to clients. Most of my colleagues knew I was capable and competent, and with their guidance and mentorship, I was able to accomplish my tasks, attend meetings and prepare for and appear in court.   However, the unfortunate reality was that most of my working time were spent with strangers and because I am a disabled woman, I was deemed incapable and was treated with condescension.

As an attorney, is it integral to have a good clientele but as a blind attorney, it was difficult to build up a clientele. After five years in practice, and with the firm’s helpful transition from an archival filing system to a paperless system, I reached my personal goals through hard work and consistent effort and was, by society’s standards, successful. Successful, but not happy … I thought that after becoming an attorney, I would finally receive the respect that I have always yearned for as a human being, living with a visual impairment, but despite my accomplishments, that were recognized, I was never fully regarded as an equal. It was a mental health struggle, for me, and time for a change.

In due course, I found work as a legal advisor at a company that tremendously improved the quality of my life, because for the first time, my abilities mattered more than my disability. I am not a visually impaired legal advisor; I am a legal advisor that is competent, capable and hardworking. I am seen as an equal, functioning individual of the greater society. Fortunately for me, this is my current path, but not many disabled individuals can say the same. They continue to walk a path, in society, that praises them when they succeed in a world that is not designed for them yet fails to accommodate them with opportunities to integrate and contribute. Societal barriers are the greatest hurdle for disabled individuals to overcome and through first-hand experience, I can vouch that if disabled individuals are surrounded by people who actively remove these societal barriers, then their disability will not be an issue.

While I enjoy my career and the challenges it presents, my heart will always be with the disabled community. When I am not at work, I spend my time creating awareness, along with my canine companion, on  disabilities but particularly on visual impairments and guide dogs. I share my story in the hopes that it will encourage disabled people to step outside of their comfort zones and reach for their dreams. I also try to destigmatize the myths and misperceptions on disabilities.

For many years, I have felt that the visually impaired community is disconnected and that although we face similar obstacles and challenges, we tend to waste our time and resources by trying to solve our problems, individually. As a result, I started to research practical and accessible ways  that would unite the visual impaired community. 

Earlier this year, in 2022, I launched an online platform, called the South African Visually Impaired Community (SAVIC) on Discord. The purpose of SAVIC is to create a single platform and sense of community where visually impaired  South Africans can find all the resources available to discuss the different career paths chosen, to provide information on employment and bursary opportunities and to share insights on accessible living. SAVIC is a resourceful community, consisting of 41 members, with a lot of expertise. Currently, we host events on topics ranging from access to justice, accessible traveling and new technologies. Going forward, my vision for SAVIC, is that it can be used to identify and rally, as a collective, against instances of discrimination. We are looking to expand our networks and have created a Facebook group that is open to any interested visually impaired person, and their families.

I may be classified as disabled, but I am more than that. I am a sister, a friend, a partner, a professional and an animal lover. My lack of sight does not define me in these roles. My disability moulded me into a resilient and empathetic person, it taught me patience and to find the humour in every situation, but it will never prevent me from living a fulfilling life.

If you are interested in learning more about Anel or would like to get in contact with her, please reach out via her Facebook page, Life after blindness or email her at coetzee.anel@gmail.com. If you are visually impaired and would like to know more about SAVIC, you can join her Facebook Group, SAVI Community.

by Yumnah Jones

Rachel Affiong Umoh

Rachel Affiong Umoh, founder of The Wonder In Me (TWIM)

Rachel Affiong Umoh is a driven and ambitious young woman. She is a compere, has her own West African pidgin YouTube Channel called Psyche Special TV, which focuses on mental health wellness and special needs, and is a qualified psychologist with a passion to help the most vulnerable within her society.  Her story shows us that the dreams we have may not always evolve as we anticipated but that we need to rise to the challenge that is presented to us because oftentimes, the challenge is the key to achieving our dreams.

This is Rachel’s story … 

Prior to my birth in Kaduna State, Nigeria, my parents both emigrated separately from their respective Yoruba and Ibibio states in the South of Nigeria before meeting, marrying, and raising their three daughters, of whom I am the eldest, in the North. We grew up culturally aware of the different tribes in our families, switching easily between speaking Ibibio in Akwalbom State and Yoruba in Ogun State, when visiting our extended families. Being born into an intertribal family has been, and still is, both a source of pride and honour for me but it has also made me attuned to and impacted by the tribalism that is rife in Nigeria.

As a minority tribe in the community where I grew up in, certain access and privileges were denied not just to my family but also to certain other tribes. We were deprived of free mosquito nets and COVID-19 pandemic palliatives, denied applying for vocational training programmes and poverty alleviation incentives, such as agricultural loans and business grants, that were provided for by the government, but which were locally administered. Through the local management of such programmes, we were never timeously informed or even allowed to participate in such incentives. Recurring stigmatization and discrimination, both historically and presently, of tribes over the hierarchical access to privileges, at grassroots level, often causes rising tensions which leads to communal and tribal clashes and inter-religious conflicts in both Northern and other parts of Nigeria.

Growing up and witnessing such forms of oppression, injustices, and corruption within my region and across Nigeria and having seen, first-hand, the adverse effects it often has on the most vulnerable groups within our society, moulded my perception of the unfairness of the World surrounding me. It motivated me to want to become a lawyer and solicit for the rights of the vulnerable and the violated, to be able to provide them with the adequate support to live independent and self-fulfilling lives

As a top achiever and having been elected as the president of the press club and debate club at secondary school, I applied to study law at my chosen university in the hopes of fulfilling my childhood dream. However, despite my excellent academic record, I was denied admission because my parents did not hold high-powered positions in the country. My mother is a teacher, by profession, and a serial entrepreneur, while my father is a civil servant, but they were not connected to the crème da la crème of society, and this affected my prospects of becoming a lawyer. It felt like a gross injustice but an accepting reality and with this in mind, I proceeded to change university and course with the aim of studying mass communication because I felt that I can still advocate for the rights of the most vulnerable but using a different tactic, mass media.

However, while I was accepted to study at the next chosen university and passed the qualifying exam to be admitted into the mass communication programme, when I received notification of acceptance, I discovered that instead of being admitted into the chosen programme, I was assigned to study psycho-social rehabilitation. While this may sound confusing to others, this is the norm across Nigerian society; you may apply for one course but might end up getting admitted to another course (that you never even chose as a second option!) but we take this either with a sense of humour or a pinch of salt.

Hence, my parents encouraged me to accept studying psycho-social rehabilitation, which would certify me as a psychologist, as God’s Will for my life and with this in mind, I made the intention to commit myself to this course chosen for me although I was, at the time, not happy with the choice as psychology was all new to me. However, I was pleasantly surprised because as I learnt more about psychology in the first few weeks after the commencement of the programme, I realized the level of impact I can leave in my wake with the exposure, skills and training I would receive during my studies. It made me realize that my childhood dream of advocating for women, displaced persons and the special-needs can still come to fruition through the tools of psycho-social rehabilitation. I took to learning with zest and learnt as much as I possibly could on rehabilitation, social violation cases, HIV testing and counselling and volunteered at relevant non-governmental organizations including a 6-month working stint at Kaduna State Rehabilitation Centre and a one-year compulsory internship at the Department of Social Welfare at a general hospital in Kaduna State. The theoretical and practical exposure has been tremendous, and I eventually qualified as a psychologist in 2020.  

It was during my final year of studies that I reached out to individuals within the rehabilitation and counselling sector to form a team and established a non-governmental organization, The Wonders In Me (TWIM). TWIM is a state-registered advocacy organization driven by the mission of a “Better Me For Better Society” and the belief that mental health wellness and inclusiveness is integral to a well-balanced and functioning society. While we advocate against the stigmatization and discrimination of persons with special needs, we have also ensured that 50% of our organization’s executive members and 50% of our volunteers constitutes persons with special needs. Thus, with the current 20 executive members, on board, and 100 volunteers, half of this number represents persons with special needs.

We advocate in communities, at schools, rehabilitation centres, internally displaced (IDP) camps, prisons, and other relevant organizations. The organization’s activities includes both social media campaigns and event hosting. For the past two years, we have launched mental health clubs in 20 secondary schools across Kaduna State, provided relief support to IDP camps, orphanages and rehabilitation centres and donated wheelchairs, crutches and braces, special education training materials and other rehabilitation aids to rehabilitation centres and special education schools. We also organize training programmes for staff on the proper use of modern-day rehabilitation services for children with sensory impairments and learning difficulties and host outreach awareness programmes, which includes guest speakers and key stakeholders. The long-term vision and current challenge are to get TWIM nationally registered and to establish our offices so that we can offer counselling and rehabilitation services to more individuals and expand on the current work that we do.

I am often asked what triggered my interest in advocating for special-needs as I am not a special-needs individual, but the truth is I am part of a minority tribe within my community, and this has deepened my insights into their sense and reality of not being included and having access to an active society. Thus, I would never want any special-needs individual to ever feel like they do not belong or cannot participate. Furthermore, the beauty of having grown up in an intertribal family is that it has granted me the understanding into different worlds that may, in other instances, view each with disdain or hostility and the truth is the spheres within which special-needs and able-bodied individuals navigate tend to be two different worlds. It is important to realize that irrespective of our tribal and religious affiliations, our nationalities, our abilities, or limitations, we are all the same. We are all human and it is important that we represent or provide the vulnerable and the violated with opportunities and platforms to be represented not because of their weaknesses but because they are capable, strong, and willing to participate in society that sadly, often, forgets them. It is important that we reach within ourselves and find our humanity and work together towards a world that can represent all of us and not one at the expense of another.  It is this passion that drives me, despite all my personal and professional challenges, and no matter the hurdles, my story is proof to every African woman that giving up on your dreams is not an option. Keep on striving for your dreams and utilize every opportunity that presents itself to you because all the small steps you take in your journey will lead to greater strides.

If you are interested in learning more about Rachel or would like to get in contact with her, please reach out via her Facebook page, TWIM “The Wonder In Me”, or email her at rachelumoh3@gmail.com or thewonderinme262@gmail.com