After a life-changing event left him paralyzed as a Stellenbosch student in 1994, Ian Hamilton (OK 1989) turned adversity into purpose. Through his organisation, The Quad Squad, he has devoted his life to ensuring that quadriplegics receive the care, support, and opportunities they need to thrive.

Adapted and translated from source

On August 6, 1994, Ian Hamilton’s (OK 1989) life changed irrevocably. He and his girlfriend had stopped outside her apartment on Die Laan in Stellenbosch after an Intervarsity match at Newlands between Maties and Ikeys when a disturbed woman opened fire on them.

The woman, who had a history of legal troubles and had been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, then fled to the nearby Brandwag neighborhood, where she also shot at her psychologist, a psychology professor, and the professor’s husband. Everyone except Ian, a promising 23-year-old cricket and rugby player, would recover from their injuries. One of her bullets, however, pierced Ian’s spine, leaving him suddenly and permanently a quadriplegic.

Now 53, divorced, and a father of three, Iam sits in his wheelchair in front of a fireplace in his home in Tokai, reflecting on that life-altering day. He speaks of the shock, the pain, and how the tragic incident changed the course of his life.

“I was shot when I was 23, and now I’m 53. For the past 30 years, I’ve needed people to help and support me,” he says. “It’s not just about needing people to care for you but also about all the medical expenses. It’s not just wheelchairs and equipment like shower chairs or home modifications. The costs are immense. I think the police compensated me with about R2 million or R3 million for loss of income from the age of 23 to 60.”

Ian pursued a legal case against the police, which led to changes in legislation, tightening control over firearm ownership.

“The problem was that the law didn’t really protect people,” he explains. “If you end up a quadriplegic like me and spend six months in the hospital, chances are you’ll lose your job by the time you’re discharged. And if you’re looking for a job, you probably won’t find one—that’s the reality. It doesn’t matter what qualifications you have or what Ramaphosa says about supporting women and people with disabilities—it’s nonsense. You won’t get a job.”

The Business World

Ian eventually returned to university in 1995 and 1996, completing his MBA degree.

“I had to enter the business world almost by default—any type of business where I could be the owner and not work for someone else, allowing for a lot of flexibility in managing my time. It takes me about an hour and a half to two hours to get up in the morning, so it’s difficult to be at a certain place by a set time.

“Right after university, I scraped together some money and bought my first business—a Steers franchise on the main road in Paarl. Over the past 25 years, I’ve owned about eight businesses. It’s not like I intentionally bought and sold businesses; it just happened that way. I’ve had a courier company, a business that rented out heavy machinery like excavators, and currently, I run a paint business.”

When asked how he thinks his life would have unfolded had he not become a quadriplegic, he reflects:

“It’s hard to say. I had plans… Many of my friends went to London to work, and quite a few went to America to make money and maybe bring it back. My plan was to go overseas after my studies, work for five years, and then return to see what was happening in the country.

“Of course, 1994 was a watershed year. Many people did leave the country after that, so I’m not sure how things would have turned out.”

The Quad-Squad

Ian founded the charity The Quad-Squad to help quadriplegics manage the immense costs they face.

“The government provides no financial assistance, and medical aids are full of nonsense. It took me about ten years to get medical coverage because it wasn’t considered a prescribed minimum benefit like heart disease, diabetes, or cancer.

“To give you an idea: my monthly medical expenses due to my injury are around R40,000. How are people supposed to survive if they’re injured, whether it’s from a diving accident, a shooting, or a stabbing?

“Maybe there’s a wife, sister, or mother who can help, but if you can’t pay someone, who will take care of you? Who will drive you around? It’s easy to say, ‘use the MyCiti bus,’ but what if it’s broken or vandalized?

“Then there’s all the medical equipment, like a wheelchair. I need a motorized chair because I can’t push myself. When I bought this chair about 12 years ago, it cost over R100,000. Who’s going to pay for that? The government certainly won’t.

“You also need caregivers and a driver—it all costs a lot of money. There’s also physiotherapy and occupational therapy that people need when they leave the hospital. That’s why I started The Quad-Squad. The hope is that people who have the means will find it in their hearts to contribute and help improve the quality of life for quadriplegics, especially in the Cape Town area.

“I don’t think there are thousands of quadriplegics, but because the costs for each person are so high, the need for something like The Quad-Squad is definitely there.

“And it’s about more than just the physical needs. People lose their jobs, and the psychological impact of being a quadriplegic for the rest of your life is immense—you need help with that. As for job opportunities, people want to study further after school, but they may not have the money to do so.”

“Oh, Shame!”

In South Africa, there is very little awareness of or support for quadriplegics because they are a marginalized group, says Ian.

“It’s due to ignorance or a dismissive attitude. In general, I think people in South Africa tend not to treat marginalized groups very well.

“I know that if I go somewhere, like a store, the staff will speak to the person I’m with instead of talking to me. They assume I have an intellectual disability or something. You learn to live with it.”

Public spaces in South Africa remain extremely inaccessible for people with disabilities.

“Laws were introduced in the late ’90s, especially regarding new buildings, which were supposed to be accessible. I remember when I returned to Stellenbosch to complete my final two years of studies—90% of the buildings were inaccessible. For example, you’d have lectures on the fourth floor, but there would be no elevator.

“It’s not just quadriplegics and paraplegics who are vulnerable. There are many others, like people with cerebral palsy or polio. But all you hear is, ‘Oh, shame!’ and that’s it. You have to fight for yourself and your rights.”

“You Lose Everything”

Ian reflects on the impact of his injuries.

“You lose everything—you have to relearn how to eat; you lose all coordination. You watch grown men struggling to lift a piece of toast off the table.

“I’m a quadriplegic… People are often quite uninformed and don’t fully understand what that means. I’m paralyzed from my chest down.

“I have what’s called a C6 cervical injury, so I don’t have the use of my hands or fingers. I can’t grip things or drive a car or anything like that.

“And because I’m paralyzed from here,” he points delicately to the top of his chest, “I have no abdominal function. If I’m lying in bed, I can’t sit up or lift myself because I no longer have any triceps.

“It’s very different from being a paraplegic, where you have full use of the upper part of your body. You can live on your own, drive a car.”

He pauses.

“You know, the reality is you go to the hospital and come out, not knowing what’s happening. Your body has changed. It’s not just about not being able to walk. There are so many things to get used to. For me, the so-called disability, the fact that my legs don’t work… processing that is the easy part. But it’s all the other things.

“There are also constant medical issues that can go wrong. Someone might say, ‘We’re going to Hermanus for the weekend—see you there!’ They don’t understand what that entails for you: Is the place accessible? Do you need to bring staff along?

“For paraplegics, it’s also tough, but it’s much easier because you’re largely independent. As a quad, you always need assistance.

“I was someone who was very independent before my accident. The last thing you want is for people to help you, but there’s no choice. I was quite active before… I played cricket for Boland and rugby for the university. It’s pretty young to be in this position at 23.

“At Conradie Hospital, they didn’t sugarcoat it; they were straightforward: ‘You’ll never walk again. That’s the reality. Deal with it and move on.’”

For more information about The Quad Squad and how to be a part of the project, please click here.