The project began as a bachelor’s thesis at the Universitat Politècnica de Catalunya, where Sallés and his classmate Bernat Vila looked at the failure of traditional aid. Standard wheelchairs, engineered for the smooth linoleum of Western hospitals, quickly succumb to the unpaved laterite roads of rural East Africa. When a metal frame snaps in a village far from a welder, or a specialized tire punctures, the chair becomes a useless weight. Sallés chose a different path: he looked for materials already present in the local economy.
The skeleton of his chair is built from PVC piping, the same material used for water systems across the continent. It is held together by standard bolts and nuts. The large rear wheels are taken from bicycles, and the smaller front wheels from supermarket trolleys. This choice is deliberate. If a tire goes flat, it can be patched at any roadside bicycle stall for a few coins. If a pipe cracks, the local hardware shop stocks the replacement.
By bypassing the 900-kilometer overland transit from the port of Mombasa, Sallés has eliminated the freight costs and border delays that often double the price of medical equipment. In Tororo, where the median monthly income is roughly 25 euros, the difference between a 70-euro chair and an imported model is the difference between participation in the community and permanent isolation.
The design is now being refined for a global digital platform, allowing anyone with a hacksaw and a drill to follow the instructions. It is a quiet rebellion against the complexity of modern logistics. In the hands of Sallés, engineering is stripped of its ivory-tower abstractions and returned to its most fundamental purpose: solving the physical distance between a human being and their dignity.