Signs of change for the better

By MARK STORY

Nothing angers Dominion Constructors workshop manager Gary Harrison, 57, more than clients calling about a "dumb guy in reception" who's delivering goods.

The guy they're referring to is long-standing employee and father of two, Grady Mitchell, 33, one of a handful of profoundly deaf people now driving heavy trucks.

They won the right to hold heavy-vehicle licences after successful lobbying by Whiti Ronaki, a deaf 49-year-old West Auckland father of three.

During a nine-month court case that started in 1998, Ronaki overturned a former legal anomaly that allowed people who were more than 75 per cent deaf to drive a car or bike - but not a truck. He successfully proved to the Land Transport Safety Authority that hearing is no impediment to the job.

Despite public fear that not being able to hear emergency sirens makes deaf people dangerous drivers, Harrison believes the profoundly deaf are remarkably safe.

Deaf Association CEO Jennifer Brain adds that most deaf people have good driving records, and the evidence suggests she's right.

Research by Auckland surgeon Noel Roydhouse in the 1960s found that deaf drivers' crash rate was less than half that of drivers with perfect hearing.

"Ignorance rather than prejudice puts employers off giving deaf people jobs," says Brain, one of six profoundly deaf people who have gained heavy-truck licences since Ronaki won his case.

"They worry about whether or not communicating will prove too hard, whether a person can follow instructions, or get on with other employees."

If Mitchell's experience is any indication, these concerns are unfounded. He's been delivering to construction sites in his 6-tonne Daihatsu for more than a year without so much as a scratch or a ticket.

A fully qualified bricklayer with a sister company for more than 10 years, Mitchell transferred to the Dominion Constructors workshop because of a back injury and constant teasing by workmates over his hearing disability.

After he proved himself competent with heavy workshop machinery and forklifts, Harrison, his boss, saw no reason why Mitchell shouldn't apply for his truck licence. Dominion Constructors paid for Mitchell's class II (delivery) truck licence, training costs at Auckland's DECA driving school, and paid him while he took the course.

And after some persuasion, the company - with the Deaf Association and Mitchell's parents - raised the $2000 needed to cover the costs of a sign-language interpreter during the licence testing.

"Apart from having an interpreter in the cab, Mitchell received no special treatment [during the test]," says Stu Stubbs, DECA's managing director. "Had he not met every requirement, he simply wouldn't have passed."

With modern technology compensating for lack of hearing, says Stubbs, the only things Mitchell is really missing out on are radios, noisy engines and occasional verbal abuse from other drivers.

Like most deaf people, Mitchell, deaf from birth, can lip-read. As well as talking with his face, eyes, and sign language, he uses established gestures with colleagues.

"I always know when he's telling me to get stuffed because he rolls up his right sleeve," Harrison says.

But how does Mitchell compensate for lack of hearing while driving? When making deliveries or if pulled over for truck inspection, he produces a card that says: "I'm deaf, in event of a problem, please check with my supervisor."

Instead of using an in-cab radio telephone, he stays in touch with the office using a vibrating mobile phone and text messages.

How has gaining a heavy truck licence affected Mitchell's life? The days when he was the butt of everyone's jokes are behind him and Harrison believes Mitchell has regained his confidence and independence through driving. Thankfully, he says, tolerance and understanding have progressed since the days when deaf people were shut off from society in one school or other.

"Grady is no different from you and me, and is treated like anyone else here."

But Harrison admits there's no shortage of humorous incidents. Like the time Mitchell was leaning over the driver's seat checking water and oil, totally oblivious to the fact his horn was blaring.

The Deaf Association puts the number of profoundly deaf Kiwis, most of whom are unemployed, at around 4000. The profoundly deaf who have got HT licences, says Ronaki, have made it easier for other deaf drivers to get jobs. And with the shortage in HT drivers being what it is, they should be in big demand.

For Mitchell, a HT licence has opened a career avenue. "Life is so much brighter now," he writes. "My next challenge is to pass the tests needed to drive the big rigs.

"My recommendation to fellow deafies is simple. Have a can-do attitude and use today's technologies to convince employers to give you a chance."