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Jean’s diary – the poor children in Sabah

Tuesday noon, February 9, 2010 – We walked a kilometer to reach our destination in the hot afternoon sun. It was another adventure for me and my team we stepped into mud and it covered all our toes but it is nothing compared how my heart breaks. As we passed the demolished houses because the owner needs the space for new buildings, squatted houses has a red mark, the community that we saw squatted there from generation to generation… they don’t have a place to go to.. What they did was they just moved much further into the mangrove area. The water was totally polluted.

I saw this little kid who doesn’t have hope that he can get out of the swamp he lived in. He doesn’t even know how old is he, neither can recognize his real name. He doesn’t have a birth certificate that will be his proof that he existed in this world.

Before, upon seeing this picture in magazines and posters,within me I was saying, “Well I don’t think there are children who looks like these..hmm.. Maybe they just take a picture elsewhere.. and post it.. I have this feeling that these people doesn’t exist in this world.. No community as poor as this that they can’t even afford to buy their own meal..”

Totally I was wrong. Indeed it was here before my eyes.. a child, and not just a child, but a community who lived in a swamp area that all their lives they were there. The lifestyle that they had was so sad that they just throw their garbage everywhere. No one to teach them the proper way of garbage disposal. They would cut the mangroves to build a house and don’t even know how to plant just to replace it. No permanent job to cater to their family’s needs.. No way of getting to school because they were undocumented.. What else can the future gave to these children? All their lives they spent in miserable situation. This people needs our help to educate them and give them hope. Every kid that we educate will change not only their life, their family, but their community as well.

to be continued

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Hamsilran’s story (2)

After that age, no one is interested in school anymore. The places that they ended up with oftentimes are tragic. The new teacher in that town school told Hamsilran he will represent their class. To us, Hamsilran represents our kampong and the three hundred and ten kids who are in the literacy center.

Hamsilran (in purple)
Hamsilran (in purple)

Teacher B went back the following day, brought Hamsilran and his mom to a nearby store to buy what he needs for the contest. Our program for our guests went on well at the same time that Hamsilran was competing. By lunch time we learned, he won first place. Our kampong boy won first place. How the kampong rejoiced. Good news like this fuels us to stand the heat of the sun even we have to climb steep hills at times.

When for the first time in his life boys like Hamsilran see what a town is like. See what a school is like. It’s their first time but talk is out that they can compete and outdo the other kids who had been in that school since Form 1. He comes Form 4, straight from the literacy center. Their new teachers are asking, which school they come from, what curriculum are the teachers using. I wished I was there to answer the new teacher.

Or better I could invite her to see the “school”. I hope I will be there when other s like her would visit and I will see her face upon seeing that mothers are teaching their own kids. That kids are sitting on the floor. That kids walk their way too early at times for their class. That they had to take turns in using the space that we have. I wish she would be able to decipher what makes it work for boys like Hamsilran to conquer an entirely new world and stand out.

When Teacher B asked Hamsilran what he needs for the contest, what he needs to give his best- I imagined how he looked when he answered. I know him and I’ve seen those eyes and smile before. Hamsilran answered, just pencils, Teacher B. I need pencils.

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Hamsilran’s story

Hamsilran came up to Teacher B and said, Teacher so sorry I cannot be here on day of the guests’ visit. Why? Teacher B asked, she was banking on Hamsilran to be there – their group of young teens, mostly boys always give a very good dance number in each program we have. They train themselves, pick their own music and dance moves.

Hamsilran answered, you see, my new teacher asked me to represent our class in the school’s Drawing Contest. Wow, okay then. You give it your best shot okay? Teacher B replied. Hamsilran did not realize that Teacher B was overcome with emotion.

On our way home, she was holding back her tears but failed. She told me, she feel soooo proud. That Hamsilran came up, talked to her in fluent English and shared what he was up to. Hamsilran is one of our three kampong boys who were able to get admission to the town’s school for non-Malaysian just this January.

He is one of the thousands of kids who cannot read nor write two years ago when we started the literacy center. Since they do not have the proper documents and even when they finally do, school fees are beyond what they can afford , kids aging 4-15 years old like them grow up not knowing how to read and write.

to be continued