Myron Naicker

The scent of warm vanilla and golden-brown scones curled through the air, a silent announcement of defiance. In a sunlit kitchen in central Durban, hands moved with precision, measuring and kneading. Plating, guided by memory, touch and an unshakeable belief.

Veetha Sewkuran, the president of the KZN Blind and Deaf Society, where the Blind Culinary School is based, stood amid the hum of clattering bowls and eager voices. “This kitchen,” she said, her voice steady as a metronome, “is not just about cooking. It’s about serving pride, purpose and possibility.”

Funded by the Dr. Vasan Govind Foundation, it is the first of its kind in South Africa. The school was opened recently with the good doctor watching on. He was a pioneering health professional, qualifying as one of the first surgeons of colour during the 70’s.

The world already knew it was possible. In 2012, Christine Ha, a blind home cook from Texas, didn’t just compete on MasterChef—she dominated it. With her signature Vietnamese braised pork belly and crème brûlée, she won the competition’s third season, becoming the first visually impaired chef to claim the title. Gordon Ramsay called her dishes “extraordinary”. The world called it a miracle. Ha said simply, “I cook with my heart. I don’t need sight to see what’s inside of me.”

That quote became Sewkuran’s rallying cry.”When I saw Christine on TV, I realised that we’re not asking for charity here. We’re demanding recognition that blind chefs belong in professional kitchens,” she said. Now, a decade later, this school is turning that vision into reality, one student at a time.

We live in a country where the fight to protect the rights of visually impaired and blind people is an ongoing battle.

President Cyril Ramaphosa’s failure to sign the Copyright Amendment Bill, which left them without access to adapted books and materials is a cutting case in point.

In short, South Africa’s Copyright Act was outdated; it didn’t ensure books, textbooks, or other literature could be easily adapted into Braille or audiobooks for blind people. This meant many visually impaired students couldn’t access the same materials as everyone else.

President Ramaphosa was supposed to fix this by signing the Copyright Amendment Bill into law, but he delayed for years.

The campaign was led by Blind SA, a non-profit organisation which focuses on the empowerment of blind and partially sighted persons, who refused to allow the government’s lackadaisical approach to hinder their fight. Last December, the Constitutional Court granted an order which provided access—a victory for all those marginalised by the bill.

The apex court in the country were simply holding true one of the constitution’s foundational values: human dignity. 

This culinary school stands as both a triumph and a quiet rebellion.

For too long, the blind and visually impaired in South Africa have faced systemic neglect, from education to employment. The unemployment rate among disabled South Africans hovers near a staggering 97%, a statistic that highlights deeper societal barriers.

Situated in central Durban, the school’s location is no accident. Here, in the heart of a bustling city where opportunity should be abundant, the visually impaired have often been left on the margins. Public transport is rarely accommodating, workplaces lack accessibility, and societal attitudes remain stubbornly outdated. “People see the cane, not the person,” Sewkuran noted. “They assume we can’t contribute. This kitchen is where we prove them wrong.”

The school’s 12-week intensive programme, guided by volunteer professional chefs, is designed to do more than teach recipes; it’s a lifeline to self-sufficiency. Students learn not only how to bake scones or simmer sauces but also how to navigate a world built for the sighted. Tactile markers line the kitchen floors, Braille labels identify ingredients, and instructors emphasise sound and touch over visual cues.

“We don’t need pity,” said one student, her hands deftly shaping dough. “We need opportunity.”

As Australian writer Barbara Blackman said, “Blindness is just another way of seeing.”

For many, the skills learned here will be transformative. Some graduates may start home businesses, selling preserves or baked goods at local markets. Others will gain the confidence to cook for their families, a simple act that carries profound dignity. “Blind parents deserve to feed their children with their own hands,” Sewkuran said. “This isn’t just about food. It’s about reclaiming autonomy.”

The school’s impact extends beyond its students. By partnering with local restaurants and food businesses, Sewkuran hopes to challenge perceptions and open doors for future employment. “Imagine a Durban where blind chefs are not an exception but a celebrated part of our culinary landscape,” she mused. Already, the first cohort’s success has sparked conversations with other disability organisations about replicating the model nationwide.

Yet, the road ahead is steep. Without broader legislative and societal change—like the full implementation of the Copyright Amendment Act to ensure accessible materials—schools like this remain rare bright spots in an otherwise uneven landscape. “We’re planting a seed,” Sewkuran said. “But for it to grow, the whole country must till the soil.”

As the afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen windows, the students gathered to share their creations— scrumptious scones and delicious sandwiches, it is but a hearty and emotional start. 

Each dish was a testament to what happens when barriers are replaced with belief.

** Myron Naicker is an award winning South African journalist.  He is has done work in television, radio and print journalism.  

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