As a disclaimer to the following, I’d like to start by saying that this is not an attack on donors…it’s not an ungrateful dismissal of people’s generosity…it’s not a childish tantrum that I wanted an orange lollipop when I got strawberry. When done right, donations (financial, in-kind, or otherwise) can truly be one of the most humbling ways for human compassion to shine, for both the giver and the receiver.

However, what happens when donations do more harm than good? When good intentions + poor assumptions of an organization’s needs + NGO’s fear of turning down donations = incomplete results? In the last few weeks with GDPU, several instances have come up where I smile through gritted teeth at the “impact” of donations.

A few weeks ago, Gulu received a generous donation of 50 wheelchairs from two organizations, one in Uganda and one from the states. A team of volunteers came to help assemble, fit, and distribute the wheelchairs. It was an empowering few days as most beneficiaries were receiving their first-ever wheelchair, a HUGE improvement from those who were accustomed to crawling on hands and knees. Some of the wheelchairs were especially excellent, as they were adjustable for children and had supportive headrests, a particularly important feature for children with Cerebral Palsy or hydrocephalus who may need more assistance to sit upright.

Three girls enjoy their new wheelchairs. These are examples of a great fit: not only do they fit each individual; the type of chair (large base + a large castor wheel out front) is ideal for Gulu's rough terrain.

A boy with hydrocephalus checks out his new chair, with a headrest!

Unfortunately, “great fits” were in the minority that day. Why?

a. “Second choice” chairs: Gulu received chairs after Kampala, meaning the best-quality chairs were already distributed. Maybe 60% of the chairs that made it to Gulu were hospital chairs. These are GREAT for wheeling somebody a short distance…but for people with spinal injuries they need more support than a fabric seat; people who have the ability to push themselves can’t have such armrests in the way of the wheels; anybody living in Gulu can’t use a chair like that on the mud roads here without risk of tipping, getting stuck, etc. Additionally, many hospital chairs are “one-size-fits all,” meaning they are often too big. In that case, the user has to overcompensate by leaning to one side; in turn, this leads to pressure sores and additional back problems (GDPU’s Fred, for example, was given a poor wheelchair after his accident as a teenager. He developed scoliosis because he favored his right side).

A fleet of chairs waiting to be distributed.

b. Informing and transporting people was difficult: Honestly, GDPU dropped the ball here, as mobilizing 50 people that they have a 2-day window to travel to Gulu for their new chair takes time and money that GDPU didn’t prepare for. For recipients (and their parents or caretakers), it takes money they don’t have to travel to Gulu. It takes proper transport that can carry a wheelchair home. It takes planning. They weren’t informed early enough, and in some cases, they weren’t able to come.

c. A “give away to anybody!” mentality: Poor mobilization and other challenges meant only SEVEN of 50 recipients showed up on Day 1 of Wheelchair Distribution. The volunteers doing the fittings were frustrated, and rightly so, as each chair takes time to assess and fit. But a mandate that “if people don’t start arriving soon, the chairs will go back to Kampala” caused a bigger scramble to make sure the chairs got to SOMEBODY, even if they weren’t on the original list. As a result, many recipients were from Gulu Municipality because they are close. Gulu town often takes priority over the villages because the concentration of demand is higher and the people are easier to access. Thus, the villages are often the last to receive aid.

I don’t have the perfect answer to this, but is it better to (a) ship wheelchairs from across the world or (b) invest that shipping money in Gulu to manufacture tailor-made chairs?

The other way that dependency on donations has manifested itself at GDPU – and, I’d imagine, many NGOs – is a “take what you can get” approach to soliciting funding. Having worked on multiple proposals and grants with GDPU, I can’t tell you how many times I heard “The donor wants to fund XYZ, not ABC, so let’s make sure we include a lot of X and leave out the B.” It’s the real-world version of “teaching to the test.”

But, what if GDPU would be better off with option B? What if PWD in Gulu could benefit, grow, and achieve MORE with B instead of X? Is GDPU really in a position to challenge the donor and say, “Thanks, but, here’s how your donation could REALLY make a difference…Here’s the type of programming this proposal really should support.” They are scared of angering the donor, so they ask for what they think they can get, rather than, maybe, what they need.

I’ll concede that donors have the right to give what they want and to request accountability. But shouldn’t they also donate responsibly to know WHY it is needed? Organizations should feel empowered to work WITH the donor to determine what is needed – and not face repercussions or risk rejection if their request differs slightly from the offer. Don’t hand me a Band-Aid if I tell you I have a headache.

Is an ill-fitting wheelchair better than no wheelchair at all? I don’t know…you’d have to ask the user. And I’m sure some of you are thinking, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

But why do they have to be beggars? Why are recipients of donations less worthy of quality support than somebody who can pay for it? Why isn’t accessibility and movement a right, not a favor?

I don’t fault people for being desperate. I fault the system that isn’t supporting them to be otherwise.