When I worked in Disability Services one evening my colleague and I took Martin, a young man with multiple impairments, to see world renowned and profoundly deaf percussionist Evelyn Glennie perform live in our local hall. Glennie's huge marimba dominated the floor. Martin disliked chairs and when able to he preferred to kneel on the floor and press his chest against his knees, arms curled around them. We'd chosen front row seats so Martin could see Glennie, but this meant many of the audience seated in a curve around the musician could see him too.
Glennie emerged, barefoot as always & began to play. I say play but no sound came, her arms moved vigorously to and fro on the lower notes of the marimba. But no sound emerged. She continued, arms moving rapidly, her face intense. Still no sound. The audience shuffled, looked around. Perplexed. But not Martin. As Glennie began to play, Martin suddenly lifted his head, a massive grin on his face, looking around at all of us and back towards Glennie. She in turn looked directly at Martin and responded with huge smile. He knew, and she knew he knew!
Knew what we onlookers, on our chairs and in our thick rubber soled shoes had missed. Vibrations. The infrasound from the marimba, which Glennie generated and could feel through her bare feet, had vibrated through the floor & Martin's bony knees, filling his chest and making him smile.
Two people, each in their own ways 'disabled' sharing a moment of connection and communication that we 'able' people had missed. As the notes rose further up the scale, we started to hear, but before then we had not known how to properly listen. I learned a life lesson that evening.
John Macpherson
