"So, you have one of these children?". In Nigeria, children with disabilities are considered an anathema, 
like a bad and unwelcome secret. So when a visiting friend asked Rose 
Mordi this question, she was not surprised. In fact, by this time she 
had become accustomed to the inappropriate stares and questions that 
came when people noticed her daughter, Awele.
Awele was born in 1987 with Down Syndrome. She is the youngest of Rose’s four children.
In Nigerian culture, some believe that children with Down Syndrome 
are a curse, or the result of some kind of punishment from the 
supernatural. For that reason, some people hide their children with 
disabilities. This was one thing Rose Mordi was determined her beautiful
 baby daughter would not be—a secret.
"From the word ‘go,’ Awele was accepted, loved, and well-integrated 
into the family," says Rose. "I would never go anywhere without her, 
except to work."
After getting over the initial shock of discovering her new baby had 
Down Syndrome, Rose went on to learn everything she could about the 
disorder. The plan was to give her child all the love her heart could 
muster.
"At that precise moment, I made up my mind that my daughter was going
 to be given the best start in life, whatever it would take. I decided 
Awele was going to be brought up just like her other siblings, so as to 
have a well-adjusted life. I made sure I read all the books, 
publications, and everything to do with bringing up a baby with 
disability."
For her, learning everything involved attending the International 
Down Syndrome convention every year. After the convention in 1998, Rose 
decided to set up her home as a sanctuary for other families with 
children with Down Syndrome in Nigeria—the first of its kind in West 
Africa.
But this decision did not come easily, as she was running her 
business full time. She was also nursing her husband, who had fallen 
into a diabetic coma after Awele was born and needed full-time home care.
Why did she add one more thing to her already-full plate? "It was 
when I saw the ignorance that was very prevalent in the country," she 
says. "There was a lot of stigmatisation—with people telling you things 
like, ‘We’re going to take you to see one church man who will carry out 
deliverance. Wicked people usually send these children. This isn’t the 
child God sent to you.’ So, I told my husband, ‘I have this strong urge 
to start a support group.’"
She ran the organisation of out of her living room for two years, 
providing counseling services to families and resources materials. She 
provided help to families who were struggling with everything that came 
with raising a child with Down Syndrome. She found it was easier for 
people to accept help from her because she was walking in those shoes 
with them. She emphasised to parents that children with Down Syndrome 
thrive on love, and families have to be hands-on.
Rose Mordi has made it her life’s mission to ensure that nobody will 
ever ask the parent of a child living with Down Syndrome: "So, you have 
one of these children?"



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