The short walk.

When life seems unsettled, there was this moment that I would like to remember. It was November 2009.  I had just arrived in England for barely two months. It was my first working day as an office cleaner. It was 10.30 p.m. on a cold winter night.I was left alone by my supervisor in a two storey's building. He even forgot to tell me where this place was. I finished my work and walked outside. Never in my life had I feel this afraid. The air outside was crisp. The sky was at its darkest hour. Where was I? I kept looking for road signs. Heavy rain then started pouring on me as I battled with my sight, still looking for signs.  Someone could have done something harmful to me and that would be the end of me. Wolves were howling. Every single sound scared me and no one at this hour, could save me. No, I had to be tough. Listening to all these sick fears would do me more harm.  I had to at least walk. Trees, trees everywhere. No people. No home. This was not a good sign. I walked again denying the patters of the rain. I walked denying my pitiful self, pitying me. I walked with thoughts of hope. Of why out of the many, it was written, that I was chosen to walk this path at the very first place. So to hope, I placed my entire self. I walked again with nothing but hope in my mind, in my heart, on my feet. Blindly, I followed the hope that was in me. Then, I saw in front of me a bus sign with the name of the road I was walking by. I smiled and I cried as I called the cab to picked me up. That walk sure lasted for a short time. But it was enough to teach me something about hope I would never ever forget. That in blindness, in tears, out of nowhere, Hope saves.

A Teacher of Hope

As much as I'd like to stay and work here, I'd like to first teach the children of my own Iban + Bidayuh tribes who are often forgotten in the education stream and sometimes, do not even know what a school is. People here complain about working hard, but what I can say is that there are other people who work harder than them and still do not receive a tenth of what they here received. I've talked about Malaysian schools (in terms of facilities and resources) in one of the British classes and at the end there was silence, not the awkward silence but the one with pity and sympathy, which later continued with twirling of hairs, putting on lipsticks, battling of heavy eyelashes and the teacher's repetitive complaints of "Stop being silly." Some people are just born lucky, we can't argue that. What we can do is, to try to reach out for those who are born underprivileged. Your hands could be their only hope, and hope could be what they dreamed of everyday. I know, because these children are me, sometime in the past.