Dancing with the Disabled- Part 1

Every day at 3 pm, the speakers of a large hifi set start to boom. The tunes are upbeat, sexy, everything from Enrique to Jai-Ho. The patients, or "inmates", as the signs on their dorm rooms say, get into lines. They only need to hear the song intro, and they're on their way. They raise their hands to get into the starting position.

"Let's get loud!" J Lo tells them, and they rock side to side in perfect union, keeping one eye on their teacher who prompts them with the right moves when they forget. If they forget. They know all the moves.

"Sex bomb, sex bomb, sex bomb!" This next song on their Top Ten playlist, not the Tom Jones version, is easily their favourite. The move to this is thankfully not suggestive: they put their hands on their knees and bounce.

Their choreographer was a Latin dance instructor in the Philippines, fabulous with his salsa moves. He spins them around, and they oblige, squinting expressionlessly, but staying to dance for hours. He is their physiotherapist when he is not dancing, rapping them on the calf to keep cycling and jumping on the trampoline with them. But best of all, he gives them the gift of dance.

The best dancers will not be distracted. Their focus is to perform all dances perfectly. The familiarity is a comfort to them, something they can do well and without assistance.

A stirring Hawaiian song from "Lilo and Stitch" comes on. The one that Lilo performed in school. The patients suddenly channel calm, graceful energy. In the middle of the song, they walk in a circle round and round the room.

Tomorrow at 3 pm, they will dance again.

And these are the blessed ones.

One staircase away, fifteen-year-olds lie in cots, their body length no more than a two-year-old's. Their white limbs are limp rods, flailing upwards or twisting side to side. Mostly they just lie still, their eyes trying to focus on any object in front of them.

Some respond to touch. They smile, grab onto hands, or frown. Some do not respond at all.

Two days at this Home, and already we learn much. We learn what we must be thankful for. We learn to get uncomfortable. We learn to dance with the disabled.