Zinyet Veliyeva made her first parade at the age of 48, wearing a light blue shirt and dark pants. Hasan, her eight-year-old son, pushed her wheelchair.
“I watched videos from previous shows,” says Veliyeva. “Most models were thin and I thought why not have a thick model.”
When she was still in school, Veliyeva had a stroke that resulted in paraparesis, the partial loss of leg movement. She became Azerbaijan’s first female Paralympic athlete, qualifying for the London 2012 Paralympic Games in archery.
NCDs are simply that; unlike, say, a virus, you can’t catch them. Instead, they are caused by a combination of genetic, physiological, environmental and behavioural factors. The main types are cancers, chronic respiratory illnesses, diabetes and cardiovascular disease – heart attacks and stroke. Approximately 80% are preventable, and all are on the rise, spreading inexorably around the world as ageing populations and lifestyles pushed by economic growth and urbanisation make being unhealthy a global phenomenon.
NCDs, once seen as illnesses of the wealthy, now have a grip on the poor. Disease, disability and death are perfectly designed to create and widen inequality – and being poor makes it less likely you will be diagnosed accurately or treated.
Investment in tackling these common and chronic conditions that kill 71% of us is incredibly low, while the cost to families, economies and communities is staggeringly high.
In low-income countries NCDs – typically slow and debilitating illnesses – are seeing a fraction of the money needed being invested or donated. Attention remains focused on the threats from communicable diseases, yet cancer death rates have long sped past the death toll from malaria, TB and HIV/Aids combined.
'A common condition' is a new Guardian series reporting on NCDs in the developing world: their prevalence, the solutions, the causes and consequences, telling the stories of people living with these illnesses.
Tracy McVeigh, editor
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A common condition
Spectacle
The human toll of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) is huge and growing. These diseases claim the lives of around 41 million of the 56 million people who die each year – and three-quarters of them are in developing countries.
NTMs are just that; unlike, say, a virus, you can’t catch them. Instead, they are caused by a combination of genetic, physiological, environmental, and behavioral factors. The main types are cancers, chronic respiratory diseases, diabetes and cardiovascular diseases – heart attacks and strokes. About 80% are preventable, and all are on the rise, spreading inexorably around the world as aging populations and lifestyles driven by economic growth and urbanization make ill health a global phenomenon.
NCDs, once seen as diseases of the rich, now have a grip on the poor. Illness, disability and death are perfectly designed to create and deepen inequalities – and being poor makes it less likely that you will be accurately diagnosed or treated.
The investment in fighting these common and chronic diseases that kill 71% of us is staggeringly low, while the cost to families, economies and communities is staggeringly high.
In low-income countries, NCDs – usually slow, debilitating diseases – see a fraction of the money needed invested or given away. Attention remains focused on the threats of communicable diseases, but cancer death rates have long since exceeded the number of deaths from malaria, tuberculosis and HIV/AIDS combined.
‘A Common Condition’ is a new series from The Guardian that reports on non-communicable diseases in the developing world: their prevalence, solutions, causes and consequences, telling the stories of people living with these diseases.
Tracy McVeigh, Writer
She loves jumpsuits, t-shirts and pants – the more colorful the better – but can’t get them on and off easily because they don’t have zippers or buttons where she needs them. requires.
Over the summer, Veliyeva was one of 20 models who took part in the Kekalove adaptive fashion show at the Marriott Absheron hotel in Baku.
Male and female models with various disabilities paraded, alone or accompanied, in front of a large audience.
The show was the brainchild of Mahammad Kekalov, a 21-year-old student. Months earlier, he had visited Veliyeva and her husband, Galib Aliyev, at their home with his business partner Rashada Aliyeva, the first designer of adaptive clothing in Azerbaijan. Aliyev also has a disability, having lost a leg when he stepped on a landmine in the first of two wars between Azerbaijan and neighboring Armenia over the past 30 years. The conflicts resulted in hundreds of amputees.
Aliyev often thought there had to be a better way to dress: “I thought it would be more convenient to take off and wear clothes with the prosthesis,” he says.
Aliyeva and Kekalov talked to Aliyev and created clothes based on what he said. Aliyev then tested the designs and gave his thoughts on what worked and what didn’t.
Kekalov was inspired to start the business by his late grandmother, Salimat Kekalova. She was visually impaired, so getting dressed could be a challenge. Coupled with a year spent with an American family caring for disabled children, he was led to think about adaptive clothing as a solution.
“Like with my grandmother, I see the same in the people we work with. We ask them if they need help or if they have any problems with clothing. They say no, but we find out that “they find it difficult to dress. They are so used to it that they don’t see it as a problem but as a daily reality.
It’s one of the reasons he puts on fashion shows – he’s already done three – he thinks people who perform have more body confidence. “They’re moving away from body stigma and that’s the main reason we’re doing it,” he says.
The first two shows took place last year. The first cost $13,000 (£15,500), paid for by the US Embassy in Azerbaijan; by the second, Kekalov was selling the concept, encouraging companies to buy sponsorships to show solidarity with people with disabilities.
Rahim Rzayev, 36, was on the podium wearing a turquoise Hawaiian shirt and wide white pants buttoned up on both sides. Like Veliyeva, he had followed the show on social networks: “He who does not take risks, does not win anything”, he says.
Rzayev, who recently married and will soon be a father, has suffered from a severe form of scoliosis since the age of six, he has a curvature of the spine and a twisted bone in his right leg.
His schooling was limited to a few weekly home visits from a teacher. He now earns his living by selling handicrafts but struggles to find clothes: “When I wear pants, the waist is thin and tight. If the size is right, the hem is too long.
Rzayev persuaded his friend Khayyam Rahimov to perform with him in the show. Rahimov suffers from anemia and his legs are of different lengths; previously, he had covered his uneven clothes with a thick jacket.
The price of clothes made by Kekalov ranges from £130 to £215, putting them out of reach for many Azerbaijanis, where the average monthly salary is around £420. So the team donates their clothes to the models for nothing.
But Kekalov says the show needs to be financially viable. “Our plan is to have a supply chain to sell products in western countries, for example in Germany, where there is a proven track of adaptive fashion brands.”
Kekalov also contacts representatives and fashion designers in Georgia, Turkey and Uzbekistan, countries with “similar disability ecosystems”. The team plans to hold a series of shows in each of these countries this year, using models with disabilities.
“It will help us better understand how fashion can make the connection between disability and geographical cultural aspects,” says Kekalov.
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