“I always climb the bench like a mountain”: The design failures shutting children with dwarfism out of Sierra Leone’s schools
- Basic school infrastructure in Sierra Leone remains built for the “average” child, leaving students with dwarfism to work around desks, boards and toilets that rarely meet their physical needs.
Freetown, Sierra Leone (Minority Africa) — As 13-year-old Ikmatu Bah sat behind her desk in her Form 1 classroom at the National Pentecostal Secondary School, a government school in Freetown, the blackboard loomed like a distant sky. Her feet barely touched the ground, and her classmates, most of whom already towered over her, looked on with a mix of curiosity and confusion. While Ikmatu is full of questions, neither her teachers, the classroom furniture, nor the curriculum offer any answers or comfort for her.
“At school, I always climb the bench like a mountain,” she says, adjusting her school uniform. “Sometimes the teacher [calls] me to write on the board, but I [can’t] even reach the bottom.”
Ikmatu lives with dwarfism and is one of the few students with the condition attending a public school in Freetown. Her story is far from unique, but it remains largely unheard. In a city where disability remains heavily stigmatised and resources are scarce, students with dwarfism struggle to survive in systems built for bodies unlike theirs.
According to Rare Disease Advisor, achondroplasia, which Ikmatu lives with, is a type of dwarfism caused by changes in the Fibroblast Growth Factor Receptor 3 (FGFR3) gene. About 80% of cases happen by chance, meaning the parents are of average height, while the remaining 20% are inherited from a parent who also has achondroplasia. A 2020 study found that in North Africa and the Middle East, about 34 out of every 100,000 babies are born with achondroplasia, whereas in sub-Saharan Africa, the figure is about 13 out of every 100,000.
Education is guaranteed as a right in Sierra Leone. Yet for children like Ikmatu, school can feel more like a test of endurance than a place of learning. Classrooms are built for the “average” child — children who can reach the blackboard, sit comfortably in standard desks, use toilets independently, and access bookshelves with ease. For students with dwarfism, these seemingly ordinary tasks often become daily battles.
“Imagine waking up knowing the furniture at school will hurt your back, the board is beyond your reach, and the restroom feels like a trap,” says Professor Yatta Kanu, an inclusive education expert based in Freetown. “That’s the reality for children with skeletal dysplasia, and we rarely talk about it.”
The 2015 Sierra Leone Population and Housing Census Thematic Report on Disability revealed that out of a total population of 7,076,119 people, 93,129 individuals were recorded as having a disability, representing 1.3% of the country’s population. The report provided specific data on visual, hearing, mobility, and speech impairments. However, dwarfism was not specifically captured or categorised among the disability types listed.
In her classroom, Ikmatu’s friend, Zainab Sam, who sits beside her, says she notices the difference every day. “Sometimes I see her struggling to reach the desk or carry her books,” Sam says. “When the teacher asks her to stand and read, she has to pull the book so close to her face. But she’s so smart. We just need to make things easier for her.”
Another 13-year-old, Abubakarr Mansaray, who attends the Ahmadiyya Muslim School in Lungi and is currently on a school break staying with his grandmother, recounts his daily struggles to Minority Africa. His voice is steady, but the frustration is obvious as he describes how the school environment continuously fails him.
“The desk in my class is too high. I have to kneel on the seat just to write properly,” he says. “Using the latrine is even worse; there are no railings, the steps are too high, and the stall is too narrow. One time, I held it the whole day till I got home.
But physical discomfort is only part of his story. Inside the classroom, social attitudes deepen the alienation. People with dwarfism are frequently reduced to comic relief — “pikin dem wae nor grow.” Even teachers sometimes mock them, reinforcing bullying instead of stopping it.
“My class teacher once said, ‘Being like Abubakarr means you’re too slow and too small to make it,” Mansaray says quietly. “Some boys in my class call me ‘shorty’ or laugh when I walk past. It makes me not want to go back.”
This social stigma has taken a deeper toll on him.
“Most afternoons when Abubakarr comes home from school, he shares his frustrations with me,” says his grandmother, Mammy Isatu. “He often talks about how the desks hurt his back, how the school latrine is too high for him to use, and how his teacher brushes off his discomfort like it’s just a normal part of school life.”
“It’s like they never expected someone like him to be there,” she adds, recalling the moment she realised how deeply the system was failing her grandson. “He told me, ‘Grandma, everything in that school makes me feel like I don’t belong.’ And it broke my heart.”
When she approached the school to raise her concerns, officials advised her that if Mansaray “couldn’t adapt,” then perhaps formal schooling wasn’t the right path for him.
Despite commitments made under the Education Sector Plan (2022–2026), which promises to build inclusive environments, implementation has been inconsistent at best. Feimie Kpayagula, Capacity Building Officer at One Family People (OFP), notes that frustration stems from the disconnect between policy and practice.
“There is no training on skeletal dysplasia, no adjusted infrastructure, and certainly no visibility. We’re still stuck with one-size-fits-all desks in classrooms that won’t bend.” She adds, “Even the curriculum often excludes them. Science textbooks seldom explain skeletal conditions like dwarfism. Literature classes explore themes of identity but rarely introduce characters that reflect the lived experience of students like Ikmatu. It’s hard to dream when they never see themselves in the story.”
Civil society organisations like OFP are working in select Freetown schools to introduce accessible furniture, disability-inclusive teacher training, and awareness campaigns. They are also piloting Individual Education Plans (IEPs) tailored to students with specific physical needs.
The pilot involves assessing each student’s physical, cognitive, and social needs to design tailored goals, teaching strategies, and support services. IEPs help students with mobility, visual, or learning challenges access appropriate resources and participate fully in class. Early results show improved engagement, independence, and teacher confidence, with students gaining self-reliance and supporting peers, highlighting the impact of personalized planning on inclusion and learning outcomes.
But in the shadows of this exclusion, some light is breaking through. At Go Primary School, a small private school in the east end of Freetown, 12-year-old Abibatu Kamara sits at a customised desk and chair. She attends weekly sessions with a trained inclusion specialist. “When the classroom fits,” her mother says, “so does her confidence.”
But solutions must be public, not just private. Sheriff Abass Koroma, President of the Little People of the Sierra Leone Association of Little People (SLALP), believes these changes are only the beginning of a broader push for systemic reform and that awareness must start in public schools.
“Not every family can afford private school fees. We need government schools to lead the way because inclusive education should be a right, not a privilege,” Koroma says. “If the government can begin by redesigning just one model school in each district to include children with dwarfism, we’ll be setting a national example.”
Looking towards the future, Mammy Isatu says firmly, “Abubakarr doesn’t need to adapt to a broken system. The school needs to adapt to him.”
Edited/Reviewed by Samuel Banjoko, Caleb Okereke, PK Cross, Awom Kenneth, and Uzoma Ihejirika.
This story was commissioned under the Advance Grant by Juliet Nkemdy and Shameer Ramdin.
Illustrated by Rex Opara.
