- Brother Olly Pickett always had a passion for inventing new creations from scraps and metal in the workshop
- After a friend of Brother Olly’s told him there were many physically disadvantaged kids around the world, he put his weilding talents to work to give them the gift of movement
- With the help of several other passionate volunteers, Brother Olly managed to send more than 76,000 wheelchairs to children in need while his mission continues
Here Brother Olly Pickett, 85, Wangara, WA, tells his story in his own words.
Tiny nuts and bolts lay strewn about on the workshop table.
‘These are what you’ll need to put your projects together,’ I said to my students, who were tasked with making shelving.
Growing up, I was one of those kids who liked taking things apart and putting them back together.
I especially loved making things from scrap metal, even inventing new things.
Now aged 55, a Christian Brother and metalwork teacher in a high school, it was so satisfying to see the sparks fly as my class welded away, making things from a mere sheet of metal.
It was 1996 and, later that year, my friend Des from a Rotary Club in Queensland returned from a trip to Fiji.
‘There were so many physically disadvantaged kids over there,’ he said. ‘Many had cerebral palsy and, unable to walk, they lived their lives on the dirt floors of huts, unable to move, dragging themselves through the dust.’
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I was heartbroken at the thought of children lacking the basic dignity of mobility.
Des told me he planned to make wheelchairs for them out of old bicycle parts, and I knew I could use my experience as a metalworker to do that.
So I decided to make them in my Rotary Club branch, too.
‘We’ll give them the gift of movement,’ I said.
Scouring local tips and collecting old bicycles and bike parts to make specially modified wheelchairs, I tinkered in my workshop until the first one was finished.
‘We’ll give them the gift of movement.’
Pleased with the result, on my first trip overseas to Cambodia in 2003, I made 10 wheelchairs while there for the kids.
Some children had been horizontal for years. Seeing them able to sit up and look the world in the eye ignited something inside me.
‘That’s magic you can’t buy,’ I said to my Rotary fellowship when I got back. ‘We need to make a wheelchair for every child in need.’
Only, I stumbled at a hurdle, finding ourselves limited as to how many wheelchairs we could build due to the lack of scrapheap bicycles and suitable matching parts.
‘It’s not sustainable,’ I said to myself.
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The following weekend, after brainstorming with friends, I decided to design a wheelchair from scratch using raw materials that were more robust and could withstand the rough terrain of a village in Java or the mountains of Mongolia.
With that, Wheelchairs For Kids Australia was born – a charity providing wheelchairs and occupational therapy expertise for children in developing countries free of charge.
In 2008, when the World Health Organization released new guidelines for the provision of wheelchairs in less-resourced settings, the message was clear.
A durable, correctly-fitted wheelchair is not just a piece of equipment, it’s a lifeline to health, education and inclusion.
‘What if we made a wheelchair that grows with the child.’
But when children in the developing world grow out of their wheelchairs, it’s not as simple as just getting a new one…
What if we made a wheelchair that grows with the child? I thought, excited to get to work.
In the Rotary Club workshop, we created a chair with custom trunk and head support, adjustable footplates, handles that protected the elbows, and a seat that stayed put while the back extended if need be.
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Our all-terrain, three-wheeled wheelchair was fully adjustable to grow with the child from the age of five to sixteen.
It was a world first!
Getting more funding, our wheelchairs were sent all over the world to change thousands of lives.
In Java, a 15-year-old boy had spent his whole life lying on a mat inside his home, and was now too big for his parents to carry.
It broke me to see him living like that.
But his eyes danced when he was lifted into his custom-built wheelchair and taken outside into the sunshine.
Then there was Edmund, from Vanuatu.
He’d spent 20 years on the ground, his body twisted by cerebral palsy.
After five hours and four fittings, we sat him in his wheelchair.
Being able to sit in it and look into his father’s tearful eyes changed everything. For the first time, he saw his village from a chair.
Wheelchairs For Kids now has a huge factory where 300 retired volunteers gather to make miracles come true for children.
A further 550 community members sew colourful covers, crochet soft rugs, and craft teddy bears.
Every wheelchair that leaves the Wangara factory is packed with two gifts – a toy and a rug.
Then there is the humanitarian aid transport team, who pack the wheelchairs into containers and ship them to their destinations.
They’re then collected by occupational therapists and physiotherapists – who travel to Vietnam, Kenya, East Timor, and 81 other countries.
They hike up mountainsides to tiny villages or cross rivers in wooden rafts to remote communities, to fit a child with their new chair.
And they educate them and their families on how to use it, too.
Each wheelchair costs $300 to make.
‘Thank you for the wheelchair and the teddy bear.’
Even though we’ve sent more than 76,000 wheelchairs and make a 150 a week, there’s still so many children that need our help.
So my work is far from done.
I was honoured and humbled to have been awarded an Order of Australia (OAM) and last year was named Senior Australian of the Year.
But I couldn’t have changed the lives of so many youngsters without the wonderful volunteers in the Wheelchair For Kids family.
They are the true heroes.
I have a lovely note I received and kept from Mercy – a 12-year-old girl from Zambia.
Thank you for the wheelchair and the teddy bear. You have made my heart rejoice again.
As long as there is a child, like Mercy, in need of a wheelchair, I’ll be in the workshop making one.
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