RNIB blindfolded dinner for World Sight Day

INSIDE almost everybody there is a reservoir of empathy – an innate capacity to understand other people, and to think and feel what it would be like to walk in their shoes.

However, despite most of us being born with the human gift of compassion, many of the world’s problems seem to arise from our failure to consider the lives of others.

Being blind or partially sighted means facing a set of daily challenges that most of us would never think of.

Recently, realising that many sighted people simply never imagine how life must be for people with impaired vision, the Royal National Institute of Blind People in Northern Ireland (RNIB NI) invited members of the public to an ingenious event which they called ‘Dining in the Dark’.

Upon arriving through the doors of North West Regional College’s ‘Flying Clipper’ restaurant, each guest was escorted to a finely-set table, their order was taken, and those without impaired vision were issued with a blindfold.

“Please put your blindfolds on and keep them on for the duration of the meal,” said a scrupulously accommodating waitress, before gliding on to the next table.

A series of speakers addressed the room, sharing their life stories as testimonials that blindness need not hold a person back.

Everybody applauded earnestly, genuinely inspired by some of the experiences of overcoming that had been shared.

The dynamic then shifted from that of a charity conference, to something that was more like a casual-corporate dinner.

I put on my blindfold. A number of strangers joined the table. We attempted to commence small talk, each of us trying to reach out from behind our own personal darknesses.

A few of my new table mates turned out to be members of RNIB, which was great.

CONVIVIAL

As well as providing convivial company, they were able to speak from experience about the common challenges that confront blind and partially sighted people, and provide the assistance that I – and my white t-shirt – needed to make it through the upcoming three courses.

“So the next hour is going to be quite difficult for you, but we will try to give you some help when you need it,” said a friendly, female voice.

There was something about being blindfolded that paradoxically at once made me more vulnerable and more secure.

The absence of eye contact – that most powerful and easily misunderstood of social cues – weakened my impulse to fill silences.

Conversely, however, not being able to see who was speaking and who was preparing to interject next made it difficult to find a space to say your piece.

“If you would like to get yourself a glass of water, I can help,” said a new voice.

Using the numbers of the clock to describe the whereabouts of the jug and glass, I was helped pour myself a glass, without spilling it all around the table.

“Even performing a simple task like that shows you just how much visually-impaired people rely on the help of others to carry out what to you and I would be straightforward tasks.”

And she was right.

Then came the food. Chicken ceasar salad for starter. A duck dish for main course. And a sort of lemon custard for desert.

PROBLEMS

One of the problems of eating food blindfolded is telling whether there is actually anything on the end of your fork.

The food was delicious, but transporting it to my mouth was almost impossible.

More times than not, I would put what I hoped was a forkful of succulent chicken and crispy lettuce into my mouth, only to find that it was, in fact, a forkful of empty fork.

“It is tricky, isn’t it?” said somebody, just as I bit down on cold metal, leading me to suspect they had removed their mask – which, it later transpired, they had.

The whole experience was not just conducive to an act of empathy, but actually made it impossible not to vividly imagine what it would be like to live a life deprived of sight.

“If you ever see a blind or partially-sighted person in the street, in the shop, or wherever, now you have been better idea of why you should ask if they need any help,” observed somebody at the table.

We were told that one of the key aims of the evening was to stimulate conversations about social inclusion and to ignite fresh thinking on how guests – especially business owners – might affect change for people with sight loss.

Simple adjustments can really make a difference, such as QR codes on menus or brochures, or ensuring customer-facing staff have visual awareness training.

On their website, the RNIB detail some of the practical changes that employers can implement in order to make their businesses more blind-friendly, from advice on ways to arrange an office, to information on technologies that make the workplace more accessible.

As well as that, they have a section on how to avail of financial support from the government’s ‘Access to Work’ scheme, which makes retaining an employee that is losing their sight easier and more cost effective than you might think.

If you want to know more about how you can help blind or partially sighted people, or if you or someone you know could benefit from RNIB’s support, visit their website, call their helpline on 0303 123 9999, or email them on helpline@rnib.org.uk.