Friendship, camaraderie and a strong dose of competitiveness – it's all par for the course at the World Dwarf Games in Belfast, writes FIONOLA MEREDITH.
CAMARADERIE – that’s the word that competitors in the World Dwarf Games keep using, time after time.
There’s no doubt that the games, currently taking place at various locations around Belfast and Co Antrim, are a serious athletic event, with little or no compromise made on account of the stature of the participants. But it’s that joyful sense of belonging, of shared experiences and of friendships forged around the globe, that provides the real energy behind the games.
“It’s all about competing eye to eye,” says Amy Andrews, president of the Dwarf Athletic Association of America. This is something of a luxury for people of restricted growth, who spend much of their lives always having to look up at a taller world.
“I enjoy meeting competitors from all the other countries,” says Georg Fitzi, an engineer from Germany. “They know all the problems we face: things like people looking at us and laughing. How you take that kind of thing depends on your mood; it hurts you some days, other times you let it go.”
“Ah, but it’s events like this that soften the blow,” chips in April Barrett, from Birmingham. “When I first came to the games, I really felt as though I was coming home.” Barrett’s son is also a dwarf, and it was through his participation in dwarf sports that, to her own surprise, she got involved. In the Belfast games, where she is the oldest participant, Barrett has already won two gold medals, in the shot-put and the javelin.
Barrett is a compact powerhouse of a woman, and a powerful, if disarmingly blunt, advocate for the rights of people of restricted growth.
“This is an average brain,” she says, jabbing her finger at her head. “It has the same desires, fears, worries as anyone else’s. Yes, we’re dwarves. But we don’t live in a house where a lady bites an apple, or go around singing heigh-ho, heigh-ho.”
She has no problem with the term “dwarf” either. “Well, that’s what we are. All this political correctness – you can’t say this, you can’t say that. It’s ridiculous.”
Many children of restricted growth are born to parents of average height.
Barrett is convinced that taking part in the games is an important part of the parents’ journey of acceptance, too. “Parents bring their children along, they find love, friendship, and they don’t have to worry about anyone bullying their kids.”
Looking around the swimming pool at Larne Leisure Centre in Co Antrim, it’s clear that everyone is focused on simply enjoying the fun and excitement of the races. One family is having a picnic lunch up in the spectators’ gallery – an average size mum, dad and big sister are happily tucking into sandwiches while the younger brother (evidently a competitor, since he’s still in his sopping wet trunks) relishes an ice-cream cone.
It’s not just a family event. As Barrett points out, all kinds of new relationships often start at the games.
Sure enough, a young couple, both of restricted growth, wander past, hand in hand, looking for a quieter spot away from the hubbub of the main arena.
One of the most striking things about meeting the younger competitors is their bright-eyed enthusiasm. “Some young people here have never encountered discrimination,” says Barrett.
“That’s why we don’t want to dwell on the negative side of things.”
Ailbhe King from Dublin, who swims for the junior Paralympic team, is chirpy and confident. “For me, it’s all about meeting new people and old friends – and winning medals is good as well.”
Krysten Coombs (18) from Plymouth, who plays badminton and table tennis, says:
“Even though I was born into a family of average height, I’ve never felt different. But the games mean a lot to me. When I first came here, I really felt a part of things.”
Meredith Tripp (30), from the Short Stature People of Australia, is a recent convert. “We actually only heard about the World Dwarf Games 18 months ago. Now we’re part of one big family. It’s like – where have we been until now?”
