AN EDUCATION IS THE GREATEST GIFT YOU CAN GIVE SOMEONE
Nelson Mandela once said that education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. This is precisely what drives humanitarian Deborah Henry, who has dedicated her life to ensuring refugee children in Malaysia are given equal access to education via Fugee School, which she established in 2009 for this very reason.
Looking back, it seems that 12 years have passed in the blink of an eye. Starting off with providing basic math and English lessons to four children from the Somali refugee community, the school has grown tremendously and now provides a holistic academic education as well as creative and life skills to equip their 200 students aged 4 to 20 years old with the right tools and opportunities for a better life for themselves and their families.
In spite of the pandemic raging on, Fugee School continues to be kept open as Henry believes it’s important to keep the children mentally stimulated and to have a routine. “We’re very blessed that we’ve got a good team and so we’re able to keep it to a certain standard,” she says. “It’s also important to remember that a lot of these families, like any marginalised family, tend to live in a much smaller space and don’t have the luxury of having different rooms in the house. So if the kids did not have school and a routine, especially in challenging times like this, it would really be mentally dire for them and their families. Plus most of these families have no laptops or tablets, they only have phones which they all share, presenting challenges to online learning.”
Recognising the need to help their students pursue higher education, the school established the Fugee Hied Scholarship, the first scholarship fund for refugees in Malaysia in line with the UNHCR’S roadmap to reach 15 per cent enrolment by 2030.
Having been in the education space for over a decade, Henry, 36, has seen the barriers and limitations that prevent an individual who has a desire to learn to do more and be more. For the refugee community in Malaysia, they live here but are not allowed to work legally nor given access to education. The staunch refugee and children’s rights advocate says, “There are very deserving refugees in this country who are capable and want to pursue tertiary education. They have dreams to be an engineer, a nurse, teacher or businessman. But it was hard to figure out where to go, as a lot of places don’t accept refugees. Plus it’s expensive, and they don’t have money.”
With a goal to sponsor five students, they’re hoping to raise around RM160,000 this year. When talking
to their corporate partners, Henry tells them that investing in a person is about investing in change for tomorrow. “I really do believe hugely in education. It’s the greatest gift you can give someone. You’re teaching them self-reliance, you’re empowering them to then further empower their family, and very often when somebody gets a tertiary degree, chances are their kids will end up going to college or university as well. So really, you’re not helping one life, you’re changing outcomes for generations to come.”
She recalls those early days when she first started Fugee School, only 24 then. Armed with a political science and economics degree, her exposure to the Miss Malaysia World beauty pageant led her to discover her calling in helping the refugee community and their children. “The idea that we can live in a world with so much, yet people literally live with less than little, seemed very unfair to me,” she says. “That’s me, I see something I think that needs to change and I do it and figure things out along the way. Fast forward 11 years, it’s 2021 and I’m still here having the same conversation. It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, it’s stressful. But when you see the human life that benefits from it...”
Change doesn’t necessarily happen in your lifetime, she says. You sow the seeds for what’s to come. And that’s exactly what Henry is talking about when investing in change for tomorrow.
She has seen first-hand how education has broken
barriers for refugee families, giving them a semblance of hope and opportunity. “These refugee children in Malaysia, they’re not going to live here forever; they’re going to get resettled to another country or they’re going back to their countries, such as Yemen, Syria, Somalia, Myanmar; so we need to equip them to think differently. They’re going to be the peacebuilders, they’re going to be the ones to start new businesses and lift their people out of poverty.”
Fully aware of the xenophobic sentiments surrounding the refugees, Henry says we need to stop seeing them as illegals and quit the fear mongering as it only leads to animosity, aggression and violence. “We have to stop seeing everything through race, religion or nationality—this is a humanity issue. When you understand that refugees fled because of persecution and war, quite frankly you and I would do the same thing if we were in that situation.”
And this is where education comes into play. But the question that remains is this: what are we really teaching our kids, and with all the knowledge we can glean from the internet, is school necessary? “In today’s world, with technology and the internet, I can probably teach my kid at some point to teach themselves online. So what is the point, for this thing that we call a school? It’s teaching children how to be good citizens. And then ask yourself what does being a good citizen mean in today’s world? It’s about tolerance, acceptance, respect. Even at Fugee School we teach subjects like global perspectives and global understanding; we also teach unity and diversity.
“So if you want change, you want it to be about tolerance and understanding, unity and diversity. It has to go beyond Satu Malaysia slogans at a very high level. For me, we need to build a generation of children who are capable to have these conversations, and come from a place of compassion and understanding. I can say this because I work with children who have come from war, who have lost family members, who have had other tribes shoot at them and try to kill them.”
She urges the youth to ask themselves what they’re doing to be that change in this country. We need to get rid of that mentality of entitlement and ask: Is there somebody else more deserving? What does justice and equity look like in this country? Who are the people that really need help, and how do we help them? If you do, and take action, she says that “you will see shifts in schools, in companies, in social organisations that will push our government to listen to the people’s voices. We’re telling them, hey guys, we’re not waiting anymore, we’re doing it.” Isn’t it time we show the world the real Malaysia?
“So what is the point, for this thing that we call a school? It’s teaching children how to be good citizens. And then ask yourself what does being a good citizen mean in today’s world? It’s about tolerance, acceptance, respect”
—DEBORAH HENRY
COURAGE AND RESOLVE TO IMPLEMENT CHANGE
“It was hell,” Syed Saddiq says as he recalls his first, if rather abrupt, introduction to politics. It was 2016 when the 1Malaysia Development Berhad’s (1MDB) financial scandal spread like wildfire across the globe, inciting what would be the nation’s biggest political shift two years down the line as well as an alleged paper trail that continues even to this day which, according to a 2020 article by The Guardian, supposedly amounted to more than Us$4.5bn.
Saddiq, at this time, was a 23-year-old law student in his final year at the International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM) and a prolific debater in Southeast Asia, with one of his most notable achievements being a three-time winner of the Asian British Parliamentary Debating Championship. At the same time, he also worked as a part-time lecturer in IIUM, and was a researcher in the field of policymaking at the Chief Minister of Johor’s office.
However, all of that changed at the tail-end of March 2016. After publishing an open letter that requested the then-prime minister Dato’ Sri Najib Razak to step down temporarily while investigations of the 1MDB scandal were underway, the fallout that ensued was ugly for both Saddiq as well as those closest to him. Not only was he banned from speaking in two universities, he lost all his sources of income in just less than 24 hours while his students were barred from flying to the United States for an invitation-only international debating championship. And if that wasn’t enough, threats of blackmail against his family surfaced; his mother, a civil servant of 30 years and a teacher near retirement, was told that she’d be “transferred, or punished if Saddiq wasn’t silenced”.
“I never regretted my decision though, even if the situation back then was ridiculous,” he says. “It opened my eyes to a rigged system where the winner takes all, where we seem to have forgotten the actual meaning of democracy and refuse to partake in bipartisanship. If anything, that experience was what kickstarted my career. Taking away my future prospects, going after my family and my students? It just hardened my resolve to overhaul Putrajaya (the federal administrative centre). Because nobody, not even my staunchest political adversary, should ever be put through that experience. And it’s not altruism, not really, because at the end of the day, even if we took an eye for an eye,
what do we have to gain other than losses for all parties involved? It’s toxic and divisive, especially during a crisis such as the one our nation is facing right now.”
Fast forward two years later, Saddiq served as the minister of Youth and Sports at the age of 25, hailed the youngest-ever cabinet member under the Pakatan Harapan administration in 2018—a title that was all at once a symbol of things to come, a weighty reminder of expectations that amounted to 32.7mil lives, and a point of contention many had used to dismiss his position. But regardless of the public heckling he’s slammed with, both inside and out of parliament, there is something to be said about the man’s relentless swagger when it comes to getting things done. Merely weeks into his tenure as minister, Saddiq buckled down to tackle a three-year-long agenda, and what would now be known as the student-movementturned-bill that made Malaysian history: Undi18.
Known today as the Constitution (Amendment) Act 2019, the bill not only lowers the voting age from 21 to 18, but also allows automatic voter registration at this age while permitting them to run as electoral candidates. While its implementation has been delayed to after September 1, 2022 by the Election Commission, citing constraints and difficulties brought on by the movement control order, Undi18’s successful tabling is a bittersweet victory that shouldn’t be overshadowed by the disheartening news.
“It took a lot of convincing [the political blocs] to get there,” said Saddiq, now 28. “When I first brought it up in parliament, they told me I was too hasty, and that it was way too early to consider constitutional amendments such as the Undi18—but I argued, saying that if not now, then when? If we were to base our manifestos on political convenience and not even try at all, wouldn’t that be a disservice to the people that voted for us in the first place? To the 7.8 million youths that will be affected by this very Act?”
Compounded by the sudden spike of Covid-19 cases late July, Malaysia’s political ecology has never been more strained. Though the state of emergency expires on August 1, a grim reality is reflected in a sea of white flags that have been raised all across the nation; a hauntingly silent yet desperate cry for aid as suicide rates have risen as high as three daily cases, all while the political infighting that caused Pakatan Harapan’s ill-timed downfall in February 2020 still persists.
After his expulsion from the Malaysian United Indigenous Party (Bersatu), which was part of the previous coalition, Saddiq announced his independence, having co-founded the Malaysian United Democratic Alliance (Muda) with him as its president. “Diplomacy and compromise come hand-in-hand when it comes to bipartisanship,” he says. “Undi18 just proves it as such. You don’t get the opposition’s support by engaging them superficially because like any other elected party, they’re people who want to, and should be, treated with respect—which means putting in the legwork to meet them on equal footing, to not only listen but negotiate a middle ground where you don’t compromise your own principles.
“I want Muda, being the multiracial, policy-based as well as youth-centred party that it is, to practice that and become the disruptive force we need to spearhead substantial change. Like breaking through the monopoly of political establishments by creating transparent political funding systems, and create educational reforms that actually help the underprivileged instead of limiting their potential with five-year-long courses that have little to no job prospects. And even if that dream for a better Malaysia becomes a huge undertaking that takes time to realise, the reason why we need to do it anyway is because if we keep calling the youth as our way to the future, it’s high time we start treating them as such.”
“And even if that dream for a better Malaysia becomes a huge undertaking that takes time to realise, the reason why we need to do it anyway is because if we keep calling the youth as our way to the future, it’s high time we start treating them as such” —SYED SADDIQ
Are the youth of today being taken seriously? It’s a question that goes through the mind of singer and artiste Alena Murang, who broke barriers and overcame taboos as the first female sape’ player and teacher in Malaysia. She has observed over the past few years how young people are more vocal regarding Malaysia’s policies, and they want to see change moving forward.
A big driver for this comes from the fact that the youth are very active on social media. “There is no doubt that they love Malaysia, but they are often disappointed by the politics of the day. There’s definitely a cry for change from some of them as they want to see the country thrive and succeed,” the 31-year-old says.
The Borneo-born Dayak-european says, for too long, the opinion of young people isn’t valued or heard as Malaysian society often values the opinion of older individuals. That being said, things are slowly changing as the youth of today are more vocal than their predecessors. Many are active and outspoken through their social media accounts, particularly Tiktok and Instagram.
She cites how back in May, 17-year-old Ain Husniza Saiful Nizam called out her male physical education teacher who allegedly made rape jokes during class. To Murang, who is also a Gen.t honouree, it is encouraging that youth culture is changing, and they are speaking up whenever they see social injustice and that something needs to be done.
Candidly, she admires how bold young people are today as they are taking action by organising campaigns when they see something wrong. She believes many do this because they feel it is their civic duty and responsibility. This is especially true when you see them crying out especially on issues like climate change and wildlife conservation. She suspects this could be because many are inspired by other youths from around the world.
At the same time, many youths today are in search of their own identity and heritage. Speaking from her experience as a musician, Murang says she identifies with their struggles. For her, she draws inspiration from her Dayak Kelabit heritage, singing songs in the endangered languages of Kelabit and Kenyah.
“I think music is a powerful tool as it makes it easier to connect with others even if they do not understand the language. It acts as a doorway to open more discussion about our shared history and culture,” she says. In fact, her “Warrior Spirit” music video, which beautifully showcased the beauty and authenticity of her heritage, is an indication of global interest in her work, having won accolades at the
International Music Video Awards in the UK for Best Asia & Pacific Music Video and Best Costume.
The sape songstress is often involved in promoting discussion on environmental advocacy with the youth. She mentors young individuals under Project VOCAL, an 18-month programme supported by the United Nations Development Programme, where participants are taught about leadership, strategic communication, project management, and creative design thinking.
Still, she is hopeful that the next generation of Malaysians will be kinder and compassionate. “I think we need more people who are not so individualistic and can listen well. I am hopeful for this because there are youths who believe in preserving the environment and tackling the climate crisis,” she says.
Murang also believes there needs to be better care for the arts and music too because there is a greater need for that to preserve our culture and heritage for the future. Lastly, she adds there needs to be better leadership in the country as it should be done by those who are selected to lead based on their capabilities and not by their age, race, religion or gender.
“I think music is a powerful tool as it makes it easier to connect with others even if they do not understand the language. It acts as a doorway to open more discussion about our shared history and culture”
—ALENA MURANG