Key points
- Sajjad Ahmed turns disability into possibility through wheelchair repairs.
- Workshop in Mardan provides sanctuary of dignity, skill, and hope.
- Trained persons with disabilities now repair wheelchairs free of charge.
- Vocational centre empowers disabled women with skills and independence.
- Meena Gul has trained 45 girls in useful trades.
- 2.5 million disabled persons live in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.
MARDAN, Pakistan: In a cramped corner of Mardan’s bustling streets, the sound of clinking metal rises like a heartbeat of resilience.
It does not echo from a factory or a mechanic’s shop, but from a place where broken wheels are turned into wings. Here, at a modest workshop called Wheelchair Wala, Sajjad Ahmed—a man whose legs gave up in childhood but whose will never wavered—has built more than just a repair centre. He has built a sanctuary where disability is not an end, but the beginning of possibility.
“The idea for this workshop was born out of my own disability and struggle,” he explains. “I wanted to establish a place where I could support others with disabilities and help lift them out of feelings of inferiority.”
For the past 15 years, Ahmed has repaired wheelchairs—whether in people’s homes, in their hujras (traditional communal guesthouses in Pashtun society) or even under the open sky in parks. Six years ago, he turned that burning passion into a modest workshop in Mardan, the second largest district of northwestern Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province.
Rhythm of hope
He kept passing on his skills, creating a ripple effect—one good turn deserving another. Now, he and all the persons with disabilities (PWDs) he trained are joining hands, standing shoulder to shoulder to help even more in the disabled community.
Step inside the workshop, and the first thing you notice is not silence but the metallic rhythm of hope being forged. In a busy corner, you will find Sibghatullah, the first person Ahmed trained in wheelchair repair.
His head is bent in concentration, eyes fixed like a hawk on a damaged wheel. Clang! Clang! goes his hammer, straightening the stubborn metal, a sound that is not noise, but the very anthem of freedom being reclaimed.
Ahmed did not just teach skills—he lit a torch that sparked a movement. His first trainee explains the centre’s philosophy best: “His [Sajjad Ahmed’s] knowledge is not only a service but a gift he shares.”
New lease of life
That gift is now paying dividends for the entire community. The skills Ahmed passed on are being used by Sibghatullah and the team to repair wheelchairs for other people with disabilities entirely free of charge. They are not just fixing chairs; they are giving people a new lease of life—restoring mobility and giving dignity, one repair at a time.
People from all over Khyber Pakhtunkhwa send their broken wheelchairs to Sajjad Ahmed’s centre. Labour is never charged; only the cost of spare parts is requested. “Our labour is a gift, offered to our brothers and sisters with love,” he says with quiet pride.
The workshop is a lifeline for many, including Muhammad Shahab. He travelled a distance just to get his chair fixed, saying: “This workshop is the only place we can get the service without spending a penny.”
Shahab smiles wide, pointing to his newly repaired chair. “When they fix my wheelchair, it doesn’t just work—it flies. It is like an airplane on the road.”
Turning doubt into dignity
The other side of Ahmed’s mission is a hidden gem. Beyond the hammers and wrenches, the facility operates a crucial vocational training institute dedicated to empowering PWD women, giving them skills and a pathway to financial independence.
But wheelchair repairs are only the tip of the iceberg. Recognising that women with disabilities often face even greater barriers, Ahmed expanded his efforts. Today, his vocational centre offers training to women and girls—especially orphans and those with special needs. Over the last six years, 65 girls have completed courses in various trades, finding not just skills, but the key to confidence, independence and hope.
“We, as persons with disabilities, are very sensitive. If someone says ‘you can’t do this,’ it really hurts,” remarks Meena Gul, herself living with a disability. “But now, the same people who once told me I couldn’t achieve anything, bring their daughters to me and say: teach them a skill.”
So far, Meena Gul has trained more than 45 girls in beauty services, sewing and embroidery, and jewellery making. Many of them are now earning an income from home, keeping the wolf from the door and supporting their families. At this vocational centre, she continues to teach orphaned and disabled girls, turning doubt into dignity and sowing seeds of self-reliance.
Counting the uncounted
According to the 2023 census, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is home to more than 2.50 million persons with disabilities—around 3 per cent of the provincial population. Of these, about 1.5 are men and 1 million women. Limb disabilities or physical disabilities—numbering 1.37 million—remain the most common, followed by visual, hearing, and mental impairments.
Despite their numbers, representation in the workforce is minimal. A government survey found that only 0.67 per cent of persons with disabilities are working in government offices.
The provincial government has recently launched a Rs 370 million financial assistance programme benefiting 37,000 special persons, each receiving Rs 10,000. In addition, under the Sehat Card, free artificial limbs and prosthetic support are now being provided.
However, challenges remain. Many public and private buildings in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa still fall short of the mark, lacking basic accessibility features such as ramps and Braille signage. The Social Welfare Department continues to issue disability certificates, but beneficiaries often struggle to access their full entitlements—a case of too little, too late.
Strength in spirit
What makes Ahmed’s work even more remarkable is that it runs entirely without government aid. “We receive no external funding,” he tells WE News English. “Everything is achieved through self-help and the support of friends.”
In a society where disability is often met with pity rather than possibility, Ahmed has built a space of dignity, skill, and empowerment. His life’s work is a reminder that true strength lies not in the body, but in the spirit—and that a single individual’s determination can move mountains.
Against this backdrop, community-driven efforts like Ahmed’s workshop and Meena Gul’s training classes are bridging the crucial gaps—offering not just skills, but dignity, independence, and hope to those whom society too often leaves behind.
