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Still Standing by Neoh Joon Kee with In the Midst of Hardship by Latiff Mohidin At dawn they returned home

their soaky clothes torn and approached the stove their limbs marked by scratches their legs full of wounds but on their brows there was not a sign of despair They came in twos and threes. Some bore the mud of paddy fields or the soot of classroom fires. Others were streaked by the grime of urban construction, while a few gave off the unwelcome stench of burning rubber. And there were those who limped back, covered with the slime of mangroves and the smell of half-rotten fish, leaving trails of salty water behind them. All of them were tired. You could see it in their faces, etched with deep lines of wear and regret. You could see it in their hands, stained with whiteboard-marker ink and plastered with Blu-Tack. You could even see it in the way they walked; some staggered, others swayed from side to side, while a few slipped and stumbled under the weight of their shaking companions. And these were only the visible scars. As wretched as their physical appearances were, these were nothing compared to the trauma they bore inside. Many had seen war, pestilence, apathy, decay and destruction. Some were wounded by the pain of losing loved ones or loyal collabs. All were haunted by the guilt that, as much as they had tried, and as much as they had struggled, there was only so much they actually did or could have done, and there was much, much more left to do. Yet, in spite of these, all of them were still standing. Even if you had only heard them and not seen them, you would never have guessed how they looked. Peals of their joyous laughter rang through the air. Animated conversations and friendly insults flew back and forth in the morning breeze. The atmosphere was one of sunshine, rainbows and butterflies. What a contrast from the darkness they had just emerged from. The whole day and night just passed they had to brave the horrendous flood in the water all the time between bloated carcasses and tiny chips of tree barks desperately looking for their sons albino buffalo that was never found They thought the Tangga Sihat was bad. To be fair, they had never expected a walk in the park. What they got was a marathon roller-coaster ride. From the very first day, when they groggily emerged from a washing-machine set on spin, to the very last, when they reluctantly retreated from a jumbled contraption they had spent so much time building and fixing, building and fixing again, they had been components in the apparatus of formal and less-than-formal education. Their mission was to end education inequity in their beloved country. However, none of them could truly have foreseen the scale or the wickedness of their undertaking.

They faced Gordian Knots of red tape, with little or no explanation how or why they came to be or continued to exist. They nurtured hot potatoes and jumping beans, in the hope that they would, one day, grow into almighty trees. They juggled presentations, classes, projects, duties, paperwork, visits and preparations. And all these they managed while being besieged by wave after endless wave of demands, threats and pleas from the heart. Despite all these, they persevered. Their passion drove them on. When one faltered, others rose to take their place. They called for help and often received it, occasionally from unexpected sources. They confronted dastardly dilemmas and frequently found a way under, over or around them, if they could not go through them in the first place. They challenged existing norms and sometimes managed to establish new ones as well as convince others to accept them. In all circumstances, they found a way to keep calm and to carry on. And yes, their efforts did bear fruit. They may have had to brave the horrendous flood, in the water all the time, but they learnt to swim when thrown into the deep end. They may have waded between bloated carcasses and tiny chips of tree barks, but they searched like few people had ever searched before. And they may not have found the albino buffalo, but they herded many, many other buffaloes in the right direction. They have achieved. They were born amidst hardship and grew up without a sigh or a complaint now they are in the kitchen, making jokes while rolling their cigarette leaves They gathered round the fading embers of the stove, which had so faithfully burned through the night. They were fewer in number, but enlarged in spirit. Before they embarked, they had vowed to return, with their shield or upon it. This they had done. They had kept their word. None of them had made it alone, either. Yes, they were strong in body, heart and mind, but this strength was also sustained through the aid of others. They drew this strength from those they served, those they served with, and those they served for; for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health. They could not have done it otherwise. The shuffling stopped. Silence reigned. They looked from man to man, from woman to woman, from man to woman and to man again. As they did so, their mouths formed that knowing smile which only arises from unspoken understanding: that all of them had done more than dream. Now, their oaths fulfilled, it was time for them to embark on another endeavour. They may not quite know where they would be heading, what they would be facing or who they would be meeting, but, at the very least, none of these would be new to them. And, come what may, they had stood, are still standing, and will continue to stand by each other, as one. Alumni, stand by me.

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