UWCSEA East Stories Coffee Table Book 2014-15

PREFACE Undeniably, schools are microcosms. Stacked classrooms, books and schedules often belie the very heart of what makes schools what they are—people. In hallways, minute motions of the head or hushed “hellos” represent recognition, but it takes conversation to induce understanding, and empathy. At East Stories, we seek to document the accounts of those who we may see every day, but never get the chance to speak to, and learn from. Within these pages, stories that are often heard through second-hand whispers, such as Ken Stirrat’s fabled athleticism, are brought to surface.

Diversity is an oft-cited characteristic of UWCSEA East, but the very factors which bring it about are the same ones which beget innate transience. Some individuals, such as Kate Levy, have been part of the UWCSEA community from before the East campus was conceived, while others, like Natalia and Shannon of the Round Square exchange, are only around fleetingly.

Yet, for the past several years our campus has existed, volatility is always juxtaposed with a desire to make an indelible impact on

whatever there is around us. Being a new school, such a determination is invaluable and necessary—there is no UWCSEA East were it not for those who strived to shape it in the image of our shared values. Some, like Tristan O’Brien of East’s first graduating class, believe that it is the only way to justify our time here—a responsibility.

In producing this collection of stories, a common theme was noticed, one of creation and pathfinding. On the surface, the explanation seems simple—East is a new campus, thus anything can pass off as novel. However, to leave it there would be an injustice to the specific ‘whys that led to the whats,’ which have happened within these walls.

In reducing narratives into anecdotes, vital parts of what will become the history of our community might be lost; Parts even Prof. John Miksic, for all his archeological achievements, may not be able to recover in the future.

These stories of Singapore have found their way to us, and we as a team merely took the time to listen.

Today, he works happily as a security guard here in UWCSEA East Campus, hoping to stay in his position for many years to come. He clenched his fists, knuckles bleaching, and he drew his right arm in close to his body, covering his chest, “this is my mission.�

SERVICE When we caught up with Subra at the end of another long, hot day, his short black hair spilled out of his cap, upon which stitched in distinct white letters read the words, ‘Premiere Security’. A weathered Angry Birds keychain dangled from the cap strap that only seemed to accentuate his unique personality. It swung back and forth with each stride forward. Sweat ran from his hairline, trickling down his forehead and neck. He blinked it away, the salty beads stinging his eyes. Pressing his cheek against his shoulder, he dabbed it momentarily and raised his right hand, swinging down, he pointed towards the lobby. Gesturing a forward motion with his left hand the car was guided towards the correct location. He couldn’t afford any distractions, he had to concentrate. After directing a few more cars he reverted his attention back towards the waiting area.

Two siblings, a boy and girl in a light blue shirts, stared warily into the distance; they seemed to be in a state of disarray and had distraught expressions plastered across their faces. Getting restless the boy sprinted forward rather clumsily, charging towards the road.

Subra quickly but gracefully stepped in front of the boy and blocked his path. Placing a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder, he bent down so that they were now both the same height. After a few words were exchanged, a smile spread across the boy’s face. Subra ruffled the boy’s golden brown hair and guided him to a bench. These moments are quick and unheralded but they comprise an important piece of the mosaic that is UWCSEA East.

To most people who know him, Subra is a very special person.

He radiates positivity even on the dreariest of mornings, hoping to spread his happiness amongst other members of the college community. Parents often tell stories of the disgruntled folks who populated their own school days. And most young people can find it all-too-easy, caught in their own moments, to forget to acknowledge a simple kindness. Not so with Subra. Students make the effort to see him in the morning. One flash of the famous Subra smile and wave is a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee. Possessed of an almost preternatural understanding for when we’re at a low ebb, Subra is even known to throw in a little dance every once in a while. Is it for show? Is it an act? Hardly. The students come first for Subra. We are his mission. After all without us, he explains, there is no school. There’s almost something wonderfully Roald Dahlish about the way Subra sees the students, especially the youngest ones, as little “customers” for whom he must provide the finest service.

He’s JARVIS to our Iron Man, he’s Buttons to our Cinderella. He knows this dedication to our care makes a difference. When we ask him what kind of difference he flashes another winning grin before adding “the students’ smile.”

Before joining the school, Subra was not always the man with the infectious grin we see on a daily basis. Born and raised in Malaysia, Subra had close ties to his beloved homeland. However, he left this all behind for his Singaporean wife. In order to marry her, he had to become a Singaporean citizen. To do this, Subra joined the

Singaporean army, a branch of the Singapore Armed Forces (SAF).

This is not simply a romantic tale of commitment to his family, though it is plainly that. It is also a story about commitment to producing his best. Subra did not merely join the SAF, he excelled, eventually becoming a sergeant responsible for training the Singaporean National Servicemen (NSmen). In order to remain with his wife in Singapore, Subra lived this martial life for 12 years. As a result of the SAF, being “rough and tough” were qualities that were drilled into his head. This seems as far removed from the gentle soul we know as possible. Indeed, this rough and toughness became second nature. “I had to be tough,” he explains, “one mistake could take someone’s life.” So perhaps toughness is only a part of the character he had to develop. Responsibility for his own actions and a responsibility towards the wider community were clearly values he adopted throughout his military service.

Indeed, in a very real sense survival was at stake: his survival and those of the people in his care. In fact, most of his time was spent in the company of wild animals out in Singapore’s then endless, condo-free jungle. What better individual keeping us safe at school than a man with 12 years experience of para-trooping, diving, and mapping the jungle, to name only a few. In the end, having shown his commitment to his adopted nation, Subra proudly became a Singaporean citizen, got married and finally settled down here in the Lion City. His voice lowers, almost to an inaudible level, holding back the tears. His voice shakes as he recalls those days. It was all worth

it, he explains, for his lovely wife. “She always cries because of the difficult training I went through daily,” he tells us, “and she says it’s because of her,” pausing momentarily, he collects himself, blinks, looks up and says “but then I say ‘no, it’s because of our love’.”

When we talk with Subra, service seems to be the theme that comes up time and time again. He’s dedicated his entire life to serving other people. As he tells it, service gives him a sense of happiness to know that he’s helped even one person.

Once Subra’s national service duties were complete, he had to quickly adjust, adapt to his new life as part of the UWC movement.

Returning to the ‘normal world’ was an extremely tough process. He had known how to anticipate and deal with any kind of wild animal the jungle could throw at him. He can placate monkeys, reach a concord with tigers and deal with snakes, but humans? Well, that was something he had never been trained to do. “I found it difficult to change back into a human again” he remembers. “After meeting all of you, however, helped speed up the process and taught me to open up and communicate better.” It was apparent that after being able to come into contact with what he calls, “genuine and kind people,” once more, he was able to find a new space for himself.

Subra soon discovered that his goal was to help upkeep alight this fire of energy, compassion and care amongst the students. From watching the little ones stumble into the campus in the morning their limbs flailing in enthusiasm, backpacks bigger than their bodies; to his after school club in which he teaches students how to cook sumptuous dishes based on recipes he learnt from his mother; to welling up with tears when the first graduating class dispersed themselves into the world Subra considers his three years at the school as a little “Heaven”.

After the army, Subra became a cab driver for six years. Overall, he recalls, the time went by smoothly. However, during the sad but inevitable quarrels with irksome clients he would never lose his cool and would always kindly ask passengers who mistreated him merely to step outside his taxi. He did not expect that at the end of the road, his job at UWC awaited him. Life is unpredictable, he explains as his eyes light up, life is unexpected and unique. His experiences has taught him that in life it is crucial to find a job we love, then it won’t feel like work. Indeed, his job now is not just to protect and serve the UWC community, but also to motivate. He learnt in his time with the army that in order to motivate others must learn how to motivate yourself. “Don’t worry about math or science, as long you’re happy and have each other then you are on the right track,” he says with a chuckle and that familiar twinkle in his eye. “If you’re having a difficult time with that, ask a friend to tickle you.”

Subra’s time in army has taught him discipline as well as leadership.

His time as a taxi driver taught him patience with approachability.

It is not surprising Subra was able to draw upon things that he learnt from his previous jobs, applying it to his current one, as he is a man who is enthusiastic about self improvement. He comes into

work every morning with an aim: to give energy. He believes that everybody is beautiful in their own way. Even though he doesn’t know every single one of us personally, he feels that it is part of his job to give back to us. Today, he works happily as a security guard here in UWCSEA East Campus, hoping to stay in his position for many years to come. He clenched his fists, knuckles bleaching, and he drew his right arm in close to his body, covering his chest, “this is my mission.”

RESPONSIBILITY “Invigorating”; For Tristan O’Brien, it sums up his experience at UWCSEA. For someone who signed himself up for as many activities as he could commit himself to, craved new challenges and thrived as a proud member of the community, it was the dynamic and everchanging environment that made his two years at the college such a life-defining period. After completing his high-school career as a part of UWCSEA East’s first graduating class, Tristan took a gap year to continue his UWC journey teaching at IB schools in Columbia and Kenya. After finishing up his international gap year experience and gaining a truly global perspective he will be thoroughly prepared for his choice of study at Cambridge University—international relations.

Before he arrived in Singapore, Tristan attended a private school in Sydney, Australia. Entering the college on his first day without knowing what the UWC movement, mission and values were all about, he was immediately struck by the difference between UWCSEA’s culture and that of his previous Australian school. One difference that stood out to him was the difference in emphasis on service. The main service at his previous school was to “go knock on doors and ask for money.” The extent of school service was a trip to Cambodia at the end of grade 11. It was a major project for the school, whereas at UWCSEA you hear about that kind of thing happening every few weeks. He looked around at the number of ways he and his peers could become involved in the school community and was struck by the difference in student leadership. His previous school followed a traditional system with teacher-allocated prefects, head boys and

head girls. If a student were not selected for one of those positions, he or she would have very limited leadership opportunities in the school community. Tristan commented that at UWCSEA you “become a leader if you put your hand up and get involved.”

For most students first coming to UWCSEA, and especially for those who come from schools with very different cultures, as Tristan did, the nature of the UWC movement and everything that comes with it—the mission statement, the five elements, the learner profile—can seem pretty overwhelming. The UWC mission is ambitious by any standards, and when he first heard about the number of things the college claims to achieve, he was a little skeptical. What he found was that not only does UWCSEA live up to its mission, but it is embodied by students day in and day out. As Tristan reflected on his days at UWCSEA, he said “It’s always exciting; every single day something new is going on … you’re surrounded by this amazing group of people, which they sometimes can take for granted and not understand how inspirational they are. It just gives you so much energy and when you’re helping others and working for a good cause it’s just … blissful content.”

The enthusiasm that Tristan felt is a testament to the strength of the UWC movement. After all, he was part of East’s first graduating class, and it takes time and great effort to shape a culture into being.

Tristan saw this challenge as an “absolutely amazing opportunity” and relished the chance to start developing East’s own traditions. “At the Dover campus some things are set in stone … for our graduating class

it was so easy because once we started a GC we would get approval in the next few hours at the start of our two years. It was quite amazing—the amount we were able to innovate and that we were leaders for two years. We could really set what we wanted to do; we were told ‘you’re the leaders and there are no limits on the potential of this year group’.” While setting up East’s culture and traditions was initially a rapid process, one thing that Tristan’s year group deliberated greatly over was the graduation. “I felt we had a responsibility to get the graduation ceremony correct.” If you were there or were watching from home, you would know that goal was absolutely achieved, and Tristan represented his peers with a remarkably eloquent speech that made all of UWC proud.

In their two years as IB students, Grade 11 and 12s at UWCSEA learn a great deal. The diploma program is notorious for its heavy workload, and when most current students are asked about it they think of the academic side of things. But as Tristan reflects on his IB and UWC education as a whole, he says: “the most valuable aspect for me was a true understanding of service.” The service component of the UWCSEA’s five elements had a major impact on Tristan because it taught him that “it’s not only about helping the community but it’s also about helping yourself.”

He shared with us one of many service experiences that had a profound impact on him: “One of my biggest learning experiences at UWCSEA wasn’t in the classroom but when I was at a retirement

home helping elderly people Skype with their families in other countries because they didn’t know how to use the technology. One man was showing me a picture of his old house in India and I asked him: Why did you live in India? What job did your dad have being an expat over there? And he looked at me and said: My dad didn’t have a nice job, I was a refugee during WWII when Singapore was invaded.

And immediately my heart dropped; I felt so bad for asking the question, but he told me his story about how he had to go to India, then he was forced to England and then to Australia before he was eventually able to come back to Singapore. And of course that caused my whole paradigm to change—not only about how I asked people questions, but also about the experiences of elderly people, which we might think of as all the same, but when we look at them they’re so different. So for me, I was the one who learned the most out of that experience and I was so fortunate for it.” Tristan was so moved that he was even able to help the man publish a book about the history of cricket in Singapore—something that he had been deeply involved in and wanted to share with the world.

After he graduated, Tristan continued doing service oriented activities through his Roundsquare gap year. He first spent four months in Columbia taking up teaching positions at a local schools. He started out in the Primary School but was quickly moved to the Secondary School where he supplemented lessons by running revision sessions and providing extra support with Internal Assessments for IB students.

Not only is he still doing service, Tristan is still closely connected with

the UWC movement. He has talked to Grade 12 students to share his gap year experience, talked to Grade 8 students in Columbia about applying to UWC, been involved in the UWC National Committee in Columbia, and is also a mentor on an online course offered to high school students around the world called “onlineuwc”.

Taking up teaching positions also led Tristan to think about his UWCSEA teachers and what he learned from them in terms of how to run a classroom. “Sometimes when I’m in classes I get fearful that helping the students might be counterproductive. One of the things you learn at UWCSEA is to think for yourself. Say you have a maths question; it’s not about knowing how to solve it, but about working out how to solve questions that you haven’t seen before and look a bit foreign. So if I’m giving the students all the answers, I’m just holding their hands through everything and not letting them go off on their own. So one thing that UWCSEA has definitely taught me is trusting that it’s okay for students to fail as long as you put them on the right track, and that failure can be a really good learning experience as long as there’s a safety net for them to fall into.”

Over the second half of his gap year, he will be travelling to Nairobi, Kenya to spend time in various secondary schools teaching maths, physics and economics, where he will no doubt make the most of future experiences and opportunities. His friends in Columbia will certainly miss him and everything he has done to help the school’s students. The Headmaster even offered him a considerable pay rise

as an incentive to stay! But Tristan respectfully turned down the offer and explained that he supports charities in Northern Tanzania and that he has always loved East African culture. At the end of his six months in Africa, Tristan will be attending Cambridge University, where he will study Human Social and Political Sciences. His course selection was actually a change of mind at the last minute—he was initially going to apply for maths and physics, but he realised that his true passion lay in the subtleties of politics and international relations.

It just gives you so much energy and when you’re helping others and working for a good cause it’s just … blissful content.

GROWTH “Despite applying twice, and perhaps failing the first time, I’m proud of what I have achieved,” added Cosme with a visionary spark in his eyes.

“It was really hard, but it was nothing compared to here,” she says as she fiddles with her necklace.

Much like a bazaar, the Tampines boarding house has a loud, busy, and lively flair to it; finding a tranquil room to sit and converse in was a journey in itself. As I looked at Cosme, Maria and Ajna I could feel Sia’s words sinking in, finding them oddly familiar. It was truly intriguing to think that these four youngsters from different countries could come together in Singapore and call the fourteenstory building we were in, home.

“You fill in an application with essay questions, then you have an interview followed by a camp and you get nominated for a scholarship, it is up to a UWC school if they admit you or not,” says Cosme, a first-year scholar from Spain. Sia, from Sierra Leone states, “We firstly get nominated by our school, so it’s primarily based on academics,” and Maria nods her head in agreement. I turn my attention to Ajna, the first Hungarian national committee student to set foot in UWCSEA East. She is squeezing her hands as if to signify her disagreement, “It is not only about the grades. It’s about creativity, and the uniqueness you can bring to the table.”

The message I was getting from the scholars is that at UWC one is always an individual, never quantified, and never categorised.

I was once told that applying to UWC through a national committee is much like running for President. After all, it is a highly competitive

process that is designed to select an individual who can adequately represent their country. “I was one of the 2000 people who applied,” says Ajna while trying with all her might to conceal her remarkable achievement with a humble expression. “In Sierra Leone and Senegal, all the schools in the country pick two people whose names they put forth to the national committees” says Sia. “Despite applying twice, and perhaps failing the first time, I’m proud of what I have achieved,” added Cosme with a visionary spark in his eyes. As I thought of failure, and the achievements that resulted from this timeless teacher, I recalled a Thomas Edison quote I had come across some years ago; “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

I was skeptical as for how to tackle perhaps the most sensitive topic regarding the life of a national committee student, the transition from their countries into the UWC movement, however I was quickly reassured by Cosme’s Edisonian approach of considering failure as inexistent. The realisation that these resilient teenagers have moved up to 12,991 km away from home in order to join our UWC family baffled me. I turned to Sia, who after a brief moment of hesitation turned to me with a rather interesting analogy, “Have you watched the Hunger Games? Well, imagine being dropped in an unknown territory, with unknown people unsure of what to do next, minus the killing of course. That’s what it was like!”

It is not only about the grades.

It’s about creativity, and the uniqueness you can bring to the table.

“I remember being placed in a room with thirteen unknown faces.

They told us that we are the national committee students. I didn’t know why they were telling us this. I remember wondering where the other National Committee students were. I wouldn’t have thought that we are the only ones.” Cosme burst out in laughter at his remark. “Really, it was scary, I thought we were the only students in our grade.” Sia nods her head and turns to me, “Put into IB language, it was Higher Level difficult. It’s like starting a new life all over again. I felt like I was observing my own reincarnation.” Ajna raises her voice in frustration,“I face challenges because of the language barrier, I’m not fluent yet, so it sets me behind everyone else.”

“It’s hard,” Maria continued, “but if it’s hard you know that you are getting something out of it.” It is interesting to hear the way the scholars found their one way to describe Guy Robert’s renown words, “learning takes place outside your comfort zone”!

What about the IB? They look at each other unsure of how to approach the long dreaded question. I knew I could count on Cosme to spark up the conversation, “The pressure of the academics gets people closer. I love how everyone concentrates on succeeding together, however sometimes I feel like as a NC, I need to bring something new and genius to every class-period.” I paused, it was difficult to see how the scholarship can also be a burden. Sia turns to me, “I wish I could tell the other students that I am just like them; my selection

process was different from theirs, I’m not good at everything, I’m allowed to make mistakes.” Sia and Cosme’s words introduced me to what I now call, the “scholar pedestal,” the obscure glorification of people who are burdened by their scholarship. I couldn’t help but wonder, are these youngsters personifications of their scholarships?

“I internalize the responsibility of honouring my scholarship, if I’m not reaching the grades I’m expecting, I feel guilty.” Ajna pauses for a brief moment before adding, “You have to make the best of this opportunity.”

Maria, who was listening intentively throughout the interview, seized the opportunity tying a ribbon around the conversation, “Once you cross the bridge and overcome the difficulties, you learn to love your teachers and your classes.”

“People have such interesting perspectives. They are very knowledgeable about social issues. I’ve met so many funny, creative, and passionate individuals.” Cosme drops his voice and leans in, “In the UWC community learning begins outside of the classroom.” I met the NC students when they first arrived in Singapore, and I am talking to them now, four months later. I can safely say that it was an honour to witness their metamorphosis. Opening minds, opening eyes, and opening hearts; I looked at Maria, Sia, Ajna and Cosme. If the future really does belong to the youth, I can reassure you dear reader, that we are in good hands!

(RE)DISCOVERED On the bank of the Singapore River near Empress Place, a small 6cm wide but flat figurine of a winged horse ridden by a headless rider.

Dating back to the 14th century, it is aptly named “the Headless Horseman” and appears to be Javanese or Sumatran in style, but is cast in lead like no other artefact of its kind that has been found in Southeast Asia. To this day, it poses a mystery to Archaeologists in Singapore who are trying to figure out how and why it got here. The horse may resemble that of the Hindu Sun God Surya, or of Raja Chulan, the father of Temasek’s legendary founder Sri Tri Buana; Whether or not it is either is a truth, like the Rider’s head, buried in history.

There’s a particular irony to the fact that Empress Place currently houses the Asian Civilizations Museum, and that the Rider was found 1.5 meters below the surface on what Professor John N. Miksic of the National University of Singapore calls an “emergency dig” during the building’s pre-transformation restoration in 1998.

In conversation with the bespectacled Professor, it becomes clear that much of the Archaeological activity in Singapore surrounds these “emergency digs,” brought on by the rapid development of Singapore and the construction works that come with it. Unfortunately, many of these come with a fixed timeline; He and his fellow archaeologists are usually notified 2-3 months in advance, then are given 2 weeks to excavate as much as they can—though some are much more compressed. When time is narrow, the meticulously measured strata of

soil widen, foregoing chronological accuracy for volume. After the short time they have, all that remains undiscovered is lost to the future.

It was one of these predicaments that had brought him to Singapore in the first place, whilst he was still teaching at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Plans to re-landscape Fort Canning prompted curiosity by members of the Raffles Museum (later renamed to the National Museum of Singapore) towards the Keramat Iskandar Shah, a shrine dedicated to the last king of Singapura who fled the island and eventually established the Malacca Sultanate circa 1400. After inviting him, and with money from Royal Dutch Shell Petroleum, they dug six holes—four of which yielded nothing; For the other two, however, they struck luck and found 14th century artefacts, intact and undisturbed since the day they were deposited. Soon after, the Singaporean government became interested, driven heavily by a commitment to ASEAN which mandated sponsored Archaeological projects in each member nation. Lacking a state Archaeologist, the government were led to Miksic, who took their offer for the prospect for a long-term position. Bashfully, he avoids calling himself the pioneer and leading academic of his field in Singapore, but it would be no exaggeration to refer to him as such.

What seems on the outside as layers or terraces of soil, Miksic and his fellow archaeologists see as years and timeliness. Each passing year lays down earth, preserving what its age has contributed. Given enough time, resources and a deal of luck, the history of a spot on

the ground can be retraced, as with the Fort Canning site. Usually, the artefacts are cleaned, stored, then await analysis in his laboratory, while the site is treated as any other land by bulldozers and cranes.

Fortunately however, the site on Fort Canning remains open and preserved as an outdoor display for all to see.

Sometimes though, the soil itself has stories to tell. Whilst it was in no danger of being destroyed, Miksic was certain that the Padang is a prospective archaeological site, and decided to test his hypothesis on smaller test pits within the vicinity. As expected, below the surface were material remnants of a past Singapura, but more excitingly at almost a meter underground, there was white sand. To make sense of this discovery, we look to the Malay Annals, also known as the Sejarah Melayu, a literary historical work that tells the story and genealogy of the Malacca Sultanate’s kings, who are allegedly the d––escendants of Sri Tri Buana, the first King of Singapura. Whilst being largely mythical and oppositely historically reliable, it speaks of Sri Tri Buana, in search of a site for a new city after leaving his native Palembang, coming across an island with “sand so white that it looked like a sheet of cloth”—very possibly the same cloth-like sand laying pristine below the Padang to this day.

Miksic doesn’t worry about the Padang, St. Andrew’s Cathedral nor the Armenian Churchyard. Undoubtedly, they are areas rich in archaeological potential, given their historical significance in Singapore’s history. Yet, for the same reason, they will remain

unthreatened for the time being. Despite his study being directed towards the past, it is the future the Professor looks forward to. In his words, “The best thing to do is to preserve them for future generations who have better techniques than we do, they can learn a lot more from the same material than we can.”

individuals who would then incorporate their personal histories from living under the shadows of Angkor, or similar sites. Literate in Indonesian, he participates in dialogue over Facebook with homegrown groups started by Indonesians looking to save their heritage from irreverent miners and development agencies.

For all the rapid development of his field over the 30 years he has been here (also coinciding with the growth of the artefact backlog, now approximately 500,000 objects large, and enough for 10 years of analysis), he is relentless in his pursuit to democratise archaeology for the benefit of all. Excavations under his purview are open and communal affairs, everyone from primary students to backpackers and Qantas aircrew have been involved, often at whim. Now, the challenge is to make meaning of all that’s found. “It’s easy to get people enthusiastic about digging, they all want to pretend to be Indiana Jones and discover stuff” he grins, “But then to go into the laboratory and sort them out, catalogue them the data entry, that’s much harder, and takes some background.”

Here in Singapore, he is being given the chance to work on an institutional level, and has successfully worked to incorporate Archaeology into the national Social Studies syllabus for Secondary 2 students, whose textbooks feature the Headless Rider on their cover.

His pipe dream is for a generational change in the way Singapore sees its past, archaeologically and beyond. Cheekily, he calls his students working with various government ministries his “moles,” working to achieve similar aims. It’s not to say that Singapore is indifferent to its own history, a notion Miksic says is “simply not correct”. What drew him to Singapore and the region in the first place as an “expat archaeologist” was the interest people had about their past, and their openness to talk about it, regardless of academic background—something he said he would have never expected in the United States. From Singapore, he looks to continue his regional undertakings, hoping to establish a private foundation for Southeast Asian centre for Historical Archaeology and developing Singapore as a hub for Archaeological training.

After completing his book “Singapore and the Silk Road of the Sea: 1300–1800” last year, his endeavours shifted into grassroots development, focusing specifically on equipping people within Southeast Asia with the skills and expertise to make sense of their past. In Cambodia, he helped in establishing Heritage Watch, an organisation dedicated to countering rampant archaeological looting, and training locals to be sustainable tour guides and archaeologists—

Through all the discoveries on this island, he maintains that it is inappropriate to take Singapore, Singapura or Temasek out of context.

Indeed, for a nation presently and historically dependent on its

position at the crossroads of culture and trade-winds, to do so would be grossly unjust to the rich and shared history of Southeast Asia.

When asked about how pre-colonial Singapore would look like, he responds “Just like modern Singapore today, but with none of the technology.” A cosmopolitan settlement surrounding the Singapore River, it gives Changi Airport an historical antecedent as a hub for traders and travellers alike hitching a ride between the southwest and northeast monsoons. Just like today, it was an axis of integrity and culture, but legend tells of its fair share of pirates near Pulau Belakang Mati (translated from Malay, it becomes “Death from Behind Island”), what we know today as Sentosa Island. One of the pleasures of his work, he says, is telling Singaporeans their story “how much better they [Singaporeans] feel to realise that they were not set up by the British, that it was an Asian port long before”—a fact known, ironically enough, to Stamford Raffles in 1819—and that “Singapore owes its existence to their own ancestors.”

2015 is well publicised as SG50, and celebrations are already in order for Singapore’s 50th year of independence, but maybe, at least to Miksic (and the National Museum of Singapore), SG700 would be more appropriate.

It’s easy to get people enthusiastic about digging, they all want to pretend to be Indiana Jones and discover stuff, but then to go into the laboratory and sort them out, catalogue them the data entry, that’s much harder, and takes some background.

VISION “Starting the GC was the spark of the moment.”

ACE (Asia’s Children Education) Global Concern has gone from a miniature club to a progressive student led organisation in the last four years, under the leadership of Kevin Yin. ACE was part of the vanguard of groups that subsequently instigated the vibrant GC culture at East; an achievement that Kevin had not anticipated in its nascent, preliminary days. “We started the idea in late 9th grade, which was a special collaboration between some of the guys and myself. In the start we didn’t know where we were going, but we knew we wanted to start a Global Concerns group.”

Amidst the initial confusion and inexperience, Kevin’s pioneer spirit fuelled the starting members through the rough journey of establishing ACE. While recalling the early Grade 9 days, Kevin remembers the hardships he faced, such as choosing an NGO partner, “We were at first advised to look at multiple grassroots organisations in three Asian countries simultaneously—a task which we personally experienced wasn’t manageable.” In order to resolve this problem, the initial leadership team went out of their way to find a new NGO partner. The 9th grader Kevin embarked on a challenge to find “a special grassroots organisation that had a lot of potential,” even if it meant to individually searching for one.

As a result of this exhaustive search, Kevin was introduced to JAAGO, a non-profit organisation in Bangladesh, catering to

the education needs of children from socially and economically disadvantaged families. JAAGO has been able to beam new light from an international volunteering perspective on Bangladesh, which is currently invisible on the radar of international service.

Throughout the establishment of ACE and in particular the search for a suitable partner beyond the comfort of those already present within our community, Kevin experienced tremendous personal growth, which influenced his role as the leader of ACE, “In the start I was quite thrown into the role, despite the fact that I wasn’t quite ready for the role.” Subsequently, the maturation of individuals throughout the 4 years of Kevin’s leadership resulted in the ideological transition of the GC. “During 9th and 10th grade it was more about fun, as we had a lot of free time to organise events.

However during these last two years—11th and 12th grades, we got into the more administrative side of establishing a constant relationship with NGOs, which required the completion of vast amount of paperwork. However, the current leadership with JAAGO has instilled in us a kind of need to promote the underlying message of the NGO and reflect it back upon our own community in UWC: the importance of providing children with a viable education.” It became increasing clear during my conversation with Kevin that the eager and enthusiastic kid in a blue shirt who thought it would be fun to pioneer a new GC has turned into a diligent custodian, no less enthusiastic, of project dedicated to grassroots education in Bangladesh.

As Kevin nears the end of his high school journey, he begins to reflect upon his accomplishments, while also taking into account some painful lessons learnt over his past four years as a leader of ACE. Kevin revealed that in the beginning he embarked on a sort of idealistic, perhaps even Quixotic quest. His “dream big” ideals are evident through his initial attempt to work with three large NGOs at the same time, an over ambition he acknowledges was too big to ever sustain. Through trial and error, Kevin and his team came to the lamentable conclusion that fulfilling their plan was simply not possible. This realisation led them to adopt a more “practical” outlook. As Kevin explained, a more modest scale meant a more achievable project. And this, most importantly of all, meant actually making a difference to the lives of children in dire need of help and assistance. After all, as Kevin had to ask himself, is it better to try to help everyone all at once and fail nobly or to make sure you at the very least succeed in helping a few? But we shouldn’t assume the answers to these questions came naturally. Kevin recalls some initial flaws in his leadership. As unglamorous as it sounds, leadership requires planning and attention to detail. “Deciding about events should have been done well in advance, but indecisiveness was a big difficulty in the start.”

That said, Peter Drucker wrote that culture eats strategy for breakfast and Kevin mulls this over as he gave advice to the next generation of GC leaders. “If I was going to have one conversation with the next leader, I would inspire him to think about the

responsibilities he holds, especially with choosing group members.

I would tell them to recruit members who are passionate about providing children in poverty with a stable education. Secondly, I would advise him to adopt a friendly and welcoming style of leadership, in order to create a collaborative atmosphere, rather than a strictly diplomatic and distant one.” As Kevin began to explain his last point, he smiled for the first time during our conversation, which served to illustrate his growing qualities as an effective, yet enthusiastic leader informed by the practical and the philosophical.

His last piece of advice was, “One thing that makes ACE quite special is how much fun we have—which sometimes turns into too much fun.” As Kevin laughs he adds a rider, “I would tell the future leader to actively have fun while steadily moving ACE GC forward.”

One thing that makes ACE quite special is how much fun we have—which sometimes turns into too much fun. I would tell the future leader to actively have fun while steadily moving ACE GC forward.

ENDURANCE His muscles gave in and he collapsed beneath the shade of a lonely tree. He sat propped us against it, chest heaving with each laboured breath. The unrelenting sun beat down on the desert sands extending in every direction, a dry, barren ocean. His circle of shade was dwarfed by the dunes surrounding him, barren too, which rose taller than the waves of any stormy sea. The landscape was as still and as silent as a photograph … if not for the pounding of his heart.

From the age of five, Ken Stirrat had a passion for athletic challenges. When he was fourteen, he had to choose between his two sporting interests—football and running. His instincts told him to ditch the football and carry on running. This decision became a stepping-stone and introduced him to a wide array of athletic events including cross-country and steeplechase. His passion grew from there and eventually running became more than just an interest as he took part in more and more competitions. When Ken was around twenty-five, he faced his first major setback after a terrible knee injury. Even after a meniscus operation and his recovery period, he felt that he simply couldn’t get back to the same level. The mind was willing, as the old phrase goes … Ken was unshaken by this because, although it was a setback in one sense, it freed him from his devotion to competitive running and allowed him to try something (slightly) different. He chose marathons. “It released me,” he says, almost relieved, “from the commitment to running that I had for so many years.”

His first marathon was in Dubai in 2001, and he signed up thinking it would just be for fun. For a while his marathons were just for fun, but it wasn’t long before he realised that he needed an even greater challenge. That’s right; marathons were too easy for him. “Everyone takes on challenges at different phases … for me, I’ve always been able to run full marathons without too much of a problem and enjoyed them. So it was just natural to think, well, what’s the next big challenge out there?” he speaks with modesty and selfdeprecating humour but it was hardly natural for the next step to be competing in the “toughest foot race on Earth”—Marathon des Sables, or MdS. Held annually in the Sahara Desert, MdS is a six-day, 250km ultramarathon, which equates to the length of six regular marathons. That’s about the distance the average person walks in one third of a year! As one can imagine, such a daunting challenge requires a rigorous training program. Each day of training demanded a huge commitment and keeping up with physical preparation was a challenge in itself. To develop his endurance, Ken even used a treadmill developed by NASA scientists that allowed him to run on half his weight, enabling him to run for longer periods of time. With immense determination, Ken pushed through barriers of pain both physical and psychological. As he came to the end of his training program, MdS loomed ominously ahead. It was completely different from any marathon he had done before, and he was anxious by the fact that he had not run for more than four hours at a time before reaching the start line. Would old injuries re-emerge to haunt him? would he have the stomach to see this through to the end when any

normal instinct would be to quit? These thoughts buzzed in his head, gnawing at his mind.

Ken explains that it was virtually impossible to anticipate what the aspects of the actual race would be like just through training sessions. A great deal remained unknown and mysterious until the marathon was well under way. After all, how could one possibly predict either the aforementioned physical or the psychological effects of spending 6–13 hours each day running in the blazing hot 45–50 degree heat of the Sahara Desert? “You just can’t,” Ken blurts out reliving the memory. But that didn’t stop Ken from going through a detailed planning stage and doing everything he could to make the challenge more manageable. In fact, it further inspired him: “what experience can’t teach me, science and rationality will have to step in.” To minimize weight, he cut holes in his backpack, removed labels from clothing, and researched which foods have the greatest energy return per gram. It probably could have led to a mathematics IA, but he decided to stay focused on the marathon.

By the start, he was as ready as he could have been. For the first half he made swift progress and realised that so long as he was able to manage the physical side of things, there were no problems with the psychological side. It was matter over mind in a reversal of the usual idiom. But on day three, he hit his first physical dip. He was severely dehydrated and at one point had to lie beneath a tree for half an hour before he could build up enough energy to push

I think the reason I took on the challenge was because of all the things I saw students doing.

through the rest of the day. After he did, he realised the full extent of the physical demands and that his symptoms, feeling nauseated and being unable to take in fluids, were common signs of heat stroke.

Following this physical dip, the remainder of the day became a psychological battle. But as Ken looks back at the toughest moments of his marathon and day three in particular, he points out that it was when he was pushing himself to the limit that he learned the most about his own character. “The biggest encouragement to me was when I was failing quite badly,” he explains, smiling at the oxymoron.

On day three, he had to ask himself, “Can I drag myself through to the finish line, can I make it to the end of the day, can I pull myself through this physical dip … and then wake up in the morning and do it three more times?” As if this question weren’t hard enough, day four happened to be a double marathon—80km through the sand dunes and the highest mountain pass in the Sahara Desert.

Ken didn’t quit but neither did he refuse help: he proved too strong to give up but too modest to invite hubris. He decided to receive a drip at a medical tent for several hours. This gave him the physical strength he needed to get up the next day and push through the double marathon as well.

Despite the effect that the psychological dip had on his confidence, he was committed to completing all six days from the start. He thought of his family back home, the people who had supported him from the very beginning. He remembered that his obligation to himself and the personal side of the challenge was only part

of his motivation. The other part was his obligation to the people he loved—his family and the UWCSEA community. In fact, one of the main reasons he took on the challenge in the first place was the motivation he sensed all around him during day-to-day life at UWCSEA. It was the first school he had worked at where so many projects and initiatives were created and led by students. “I think the reason I took on the challenge was because of all the things I saw students doing.” He explains almost matter-of-factly. “Students leading GC groups, students taking on ridiculous challenges in service; And then I looked around at all the staff and the staff were doing the same things.” As he describes it, he was amazed by the commitment of both students and teachers. It was the motivation that he saw in the environment around him that gave him the nudge to take on the challenge—a challenge that he had always thought about but could not fully commit to before his career at East. And, in a pleasing symmetry, it were these very same thoughts that got him back on his feet when that 50 degree desert heat threatened to finish him off.

As our interview neared its end, I couldn’t resist asking him the question most on my mind. Ken’s deep passion for mathematics is almost legend. So I had to ask him whether his mathematical prowess gave him any advantage over his fellow competitors.

He proudly admits to analysing the gradients of a few hills on his upward journeys, he felt that being a “geeky mathematician” unfortunately didn’t give him any major advantage over his

competitors. Preparation was vitally important, he explains, but clearly endurance was the capital virtue.

Having completed the “toughest foot race on Earth” you would think that Ken would be satisfied with the assurance that is no marathon in the world more difficult for him to attempt. But he does not see this as an excuse to stop looking for the next challenge.

In fact, he has a plan to do MdS again, but even better. After all, preparation, endurance and experience is a formidable combination.

But let’s not forget ambition. Having looked into the timing of other marathons, he realised that there would be no harm in tagging on the Paris marathon just before MdS and the London marathon just the day after. For most of us, this would likely result in dismay, fear, failure and quite a bit of harm. But for Ken, this is just his next big challenge.

DIVERSITY For most, experiencing something different is difficult, yet Round Square students absorb differences on their exchanges. However, integrating into their new environments was not as challenging as they expected. It would seem logical that when encountering new cultures and surroundings, students of different backgrounds would have to confront obstacles, and of course, they did, as they flew to places halfway around the world. While these challenges existed, the people they shared these moments with helped them adjust naturally.

Sharing Round Square motives and circumstances not only made it easier for the Round Square students to adapt but also made their immersion in new places and cultures a profound experience.

indicated a normal train on the yellow line, not an express train, or if this was a main station where she could change lines. Those who have not tried taking the train in Japan do not fully know how complicated the system is, and she spent ten minutes excitedly explaining she learned how the trains and the many possibly lines work. “There was not a single day that I didn’t have difficulty getting home,” she described. Yet with every mistaken train, she experienced new parts of Japan. One day she accidentally took the train all the way to downtown Tokyo. She would have stayed and explored more of Japan each time if she had not needed the time to work through the intricate train system to return home.

The opportunity to experience a different part of the world as a member of the Round Square movement is immense. From UWCSEA East, students can travel to Japan, Germany and Canada while students from countries such as Colombia and Peru come here to Singapore. The contrasting environments make obstacles inevitable.

This clear desire to experience a new place and willingness to accept the challenges appear in the other Round Square exchanges. Language was not a barrier for Elliot Rosenfeld, yet he encountered slightly different problems. Living in the rapidly growing and bustling city of Singapore, he was baffled by the open landscape and endless trees in Saint John, Canada. This was not a problem, but something he felt he needed to become accustomed to. The exchanges aim to make understanding to cultural differences something the students need to adapt to, not overcome. It didn’t take long as he explains, “I had never seen this much space before and it felt like nothing else existed.”

Indeed, these difficult tasks were hardly viewed as obstacles to the exchange students. Their challenges never felt like something they had to overcome but part of immersing themselves into their new environments. While in Tokyo, Wendy Xiao’s language barrier at times caused her difficulties, but was an essential part of her experience.

After her first week in Japan, she had become familiar with riding the elaborate train system. Yet every time on her way to Tamagawa Gakuen, she was never certain about the trains, whether the sign

Similar to how Elliot and Wendy adjusted to their new environments, Natalia Rodriguez and Shannon Reilly felt they easily slipped into UWC life and Singapore after travelling from Peru and Colombia. For

them, experiencing the liberties of Singapore was one of the exciting opportunities. “We come from countries where you wouldn’t walk alone at night,” Natalia explained, “and the things you can do here are incredible.” That is something all of the Round Square exchanges have in common: the possibilities of each environment are endless.

Both gap-year students found they could easily integrate into Singapore.

The main difficulty of the exchange, similar to the others, was not adjusting to the new environment but adjusting to the independence. As Shannon explains, “it’s a challenge but it’s also good for you.”

How naturally they could endure that challenge and the new environments shocked the exchange students. They found the people they met made the exchange less difficult. The small ways in which they were similar made adapting the significant differences easier.

Despite describing how vastly different environments of Singapore and Canada are, Elliot recalled how a lot of his experiences were quite similar to moments in Singapore. Becoming friends with people in the outdoor setting was no different to spending time with someone by going to a busy hawker centre. While he came to learn about the environment, the people he met had a great impact in that process.

Natalia and Shannon felt a similar way when coming to UWCSEA East and meeting new people. “We’ve done the same things just in different time zones,” Shannon described. Their similarities, despite the different settings, may explain their natural transitions.

Any school with a personality and is ready to share that with others is a Round Square school.

However, their similar experiences may stem from similar motivations in their environments. Nature was right outside Elliot’s school window in Canada and it is effortlessly integrated into the daily curriculum at Rothesay Netherward School similar to how students at UWC have expeditions. Although implemented in different places, the common methodology and mindset added to the ease the students felt in adapting to their new lives.

As each exchange occurs between Round Square schools, it is no surprise that similar school mindsets are found. Founded by Kurt Hahn, the movement aims to use service and outdoor education to create leaders of future generations. If all of those students are taught similar critical thinking skills, it makes sense that their exchanges are natural to them when in fact it is quite difficult. While it was easy to apply those skills with similar minded people, the Round Square mindset is built to be used in other circumstances outside of the movement. The exchanges represent only one instance when those skills are used, yet Round Square students can implement their mindset of resilience and openness in managing difficulties later on a personal or international scale.

Founded with similar principles also by Kurt Hahn, UWCs are also Round Square schools and participate in spreading the Round Square movement. Experiencing and learning about different cultures is reinforced through Round Square since it is a network which has spread into 40 countries and 150 schools. Although not as numerous

as Round Square, UWC and Round Square both aim to use the same methods to prepare strong leaders and appear to be nearly identical movements.

It is interesting, however, that the students who came on exchange to UWCSEA East find a Round Square school and UWC different. Natalia from Markham College in Lima, Peru, explains how the diversity is the biggest difference between her international school and “East”.

Cultural diversity is a quality of all UWCs but perhaps not all individual Round Square schools despite the multicultural network. Through meeting people from different parts of the globe, Shannon and Natalia explained how they feel they understand more about the world. As the mission, Round Square or UWC, ensures similar principles, the main difference between the experiences shared is the context. Knowing the experience but not the context makes it easier for Shannon, Natalia and other Round Square students to learn about different backgrounds and integrate into new environments even if they have not encountered the same diversity at UWC. In contrast, Wendy and Elliot find no distinct difference between a UWC and Round Square school. While both commented on how it was slightly more monocultural in their respective schools, Wendy defined a Round Square school as “any school with a personality and is ready to share that with others.” If the defining tenet of a Round Square school is to welcome everyone, then perhaps UWC seeks out this diversity while all Round Square schools eagerly accept and

welcome it. A main part of the Round Square conferences is embracing these different cultures through the common bond of outdoor education and service to gain leadership skills so it is difficult to state Round Square does not also look for cultural diversity. While not every Round Square school may have vast cultural diversity like UWCs, they certainly embody its meaning and intentions.

It seems pedantic to argue over the differences between a UWC and Round Square school when, as Shannon explains, “we have the same mission to be global citizens.” Whether that occurs in a Round Square school or a UWC school, the skills learned by trying to achieve that make for strong individuals who will fulfil the mission of both movements.

And no matter where it is implemented, Singapore, Canada or Colombia, Shannon says the experience can be summed up for all exchange students as simply “amazing and different”.

STORYTELLING Kirpal Singh, a professor of English literature at Singapore Management University (SMU) and a pioneer of Singaporean literature, returned UWCSEA to speak at East’s annual writer’s fortnight. He stood up in front of an audience of eager Grade 10 students to share with us his experience as a contemporary writer in Singapore, his insights into the power of words and his philosophy of education in the modern world.

After the presentation, I was lucky enough to sit down with him and talk more about the roles that literature and, more broadly, words, have played both in his life and in the evolution of modern Singapore.

Kirpal first realised the kind of power that comes with words from a very young age. When he thinks back to his earliest interest in literature, he highlights an experience in Primary School when he was 8 years old. He was instructed to write a composition titled ‘My Teacher’. Kirpal had read some books of rhymes and poetry and wanted to try writing some of his own. So instead of writing a composition, he decided to write a poem, the first lines of which have stuck with him ever since: I have a teacher called Ms. Low Whose face is like Tau Sar Pau Tau Sar Pau is a traditional Singaporean red-bean bun. As an 8 year old student, Kirpal just wanted to describe his teacher’s face in terms of one of his favourite after-school snacks. But his teacher’s interpretation of the comparison was that she was being described as plump, like the round bread bun that surrounds the red-bean filling. Although both Kirpal and

his teacher were reading the very same words, the messages they took away from them were completely different. The experience taught him that people interpret language in different ways—a lesson that would remain relevant to his work as a writer throughout his career.

With a new-found realisation about the power of words, Kirpal continued writing poetry in his youth. When he was just 12 years old, he had two of his poems published in a magazine called ‘The Student World’, which had thousands of subscribers. While the very first publication of his work was a big deal, Kirpal underscores the influence of his uncle, who dabbled in politics and was a member of Lee Kuan Yew’s camp. Due to his Communist leanings, his uncle was given the choice to “join [Lee Kuan Yew], go to jail, or renounce politics.” He renounced politics, and this decision would actually end up helping Kirpal develop further as a writer. His uncle was a voracious reader and widened Kirpal’s vocabulary by testing his knowledge of obscure words and asking him what which would be most impactful in context. He learned how to show stories with words rather than tell them and how to pick up on the nuances of a description with the subtle connotations of just a single phrase. At the same time, his uncle warned him that “if the most appropriate word in that context is going to get you into trouble, then use another word that suggests what you are trying to state but doesn’t actually say it.”

The idea of working as a professor came to him by Secondary School.

When he was about 15, Kirpal was thinking about careers in law and education. This was in spite of his uncle’s dream for him to become an

engineer: “And though he never openly said it, I think he must have felt very disheartened when of all the subjects I could possibly do it was English, which, when I was young, was meant to be a subject that girls did. Real men didn’t study poetry.” But even before he graduated from high school he knew that he wanted to share his true passion for literature through education. Through his experience working alongside young adults, he has developed teaching strategies most effective in today’s classroom environment. “I think teaching in the classroom today has become very challenging, especially in the last 5 or 6 years given the rise of new technologies.”

Having a room full of students with open laptops in front of them proves to be both a help and a hindrance. “I think that all of us who are teaching today really have to find very different strategies to try to engage them.

So I always tell my students that what I share with them is not about what they already know from their books and what they can already find on Google. What I’m going to share with them are stories, which hopefully shed some light on the way they interpret the books they are studying.” As an educator of the modern day he realises that it is no longer possible for professors to be the “repositories of knowledge”. This rapid change in ease of access to information over the past couple decades has underscored for Kirpal the ever-increasing importance of storytelling, the sharing of personal narratives, and in particular the power of words.

The ever-increasing body of shared knowledge available to us through the internet and the growing perception of the internet as a mere

extension of our own knowledge should remind us that there is still a great deal that we can learn through the transfer of personal knowledge.

Kirpal explained that when it comes down to it, the only meaningful thing that he can share with people—the only thing that they don’t already “know”—is his story. His philosophy is that the “new learning is really learning how to be a good human being, learning how to be a good citizen and learning how to live with others without losing your own self-respect.”

When he’s not sharing personal narratives with his students at SMU, Kirpal spends time catching up on his other love in life—writing. While poetry is still very close to his heart, he has become more and more interested in biographical writing. His latest book, Naked Ape, Naked Boss, is a commentary on Singapore’s management system through the story of Bernard Harrison—“the man behind the Singapore zoo and the world’s first night safari” and a quirky character who rejected social norms and the stuffiness of management business.

As would surely resonate with many Singaporean writers, Kirpal characterizes his style as a blend from three main inputs. One, of course, is Singapore: his birthplace, his childhood, his home. Another is his mother, who is of Scottish background. The third is his father, who was a Sikh and of Indian descent. Singapore is a country of very mixed ethnicities and although Kirpal’s literary and poetic styles can be traced back to his roots, his voice is still distinctly Singaporean.

For many writers, government censorship is an issue that must be kept in mind. Kirpal has found that when he writes today he self-censors less and less, however he also reflects that it has almost become a habit over the years and therefore may be difficult to judge exactly how much he self-censors. At time same time, he believes that there is a distinction between what you want to say and what you publish, as he highlights in his advice for aspiring writers in the modern world and in modern Singapore, which, as he points out, are becoming increasingly inseparable: First, “be very clear about what you want to say to the world, which might be different from what you want to say to yourself. What you write is your complete freedom, but what you then send out to the world for other to read entails a slightly different kind of consideration and responsibility.” Second, “try not to be so arrogant as not to read other people. Read your fellow writers, even if they are not of your same age. Don’t just say ‘I’ve read the masters and therefore I’ve read’. Take the time to read most up to date work of your peers and colleagues.”

Kirpal is one of the pioneers of Singaporean literature. His experience growing up, living and working in a country as young as Singapore has illustrated to him just how powerful words are not only as a means of communicating ideas but also as a tool for shaping the future of the society in which he lives. This insight has formed the foundation of his philosophy on education, and it is as a professor of literature at SMU that he strives to share it with his students through storytelling—a form of communication that is becoming increasingly important to preserve in our technology-driven world.

EMPATHY We should make sure to keep our own kids real, or as far as they can be understanding of, or empathetic to, every different situation of other children. That is why it had to be a family trip rather than a teacher taking some students.

In the cozy ambience of her English classroom, with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, Kate’s passion breaks the otherwise tranquil scene. With verve, she speaks of her 10 year long involvement, in some form or another, with Global Concerns (GC) and NGOs related to Vietnam. Over the course of the interview, it became clear that, despite the many years she has been part of the UWCSEA community, the dedication and effort she puts into the causes she believes in has been unwavering, with a constant search for betterment.

Here, many know Kate for her work with the Blue Dragon GC, but few outside her GC realise that her endeavours to aid Vietnamese children stretches back beyond the conception of the East Campus to her time with the Underprivileged Kids of Vietnam GC (UCOV), which was connected to the Friends of Underprivileged NGO on the Dover Campus. Back then, she notes, “we could take on any project related to Vietnam so I found that a bit more liberating […] So whilst we were raising money for scholarship for kids in leprosy communities in North Vietnam for FOU, we could also raise funds and awareness for street and traffic children in Hanoi and support the work of Blue Dragon.”

These days, with GCs being focused on a specific NGO, all efforts and funds collected are directed towards the Blue Dragon Children Foundation, headquartered in Hanoi.

However, the transition between campuses was not without sacrifice.

Despite her best intentions, she was forced to leave UCOV to devote herself to supervising Blue Dragon GC. Always looking to make the best

out of any situation, she realised that a new start meant introspectively looking into her past experiences. As an open question she asks, “How do they really take on the values of what we do?” As rhetorical as it may be, she recognises that the answer lies in understanding that “sometimes it’s not only about the GC, but organising events with reason and meaning.” Looking to Blue Dragon GC’s largest and most successful event so far, the “Vision of Vietnam” photo exhibition held at the Hilton Hotel in November, she highlights how “it was so important that everyone is involved so everyone had to turn up wearing a ‘Please ask me about …’ badge.” For her, a GC’s responsibility to create sincere awareness of their causes to the wider UWCSEA and Singapore community could not be understated. Even to her students and fellow collaborators in the GC, there was no such thing as knowing too much; it should be their responsibility to be well-informed members and representatives of Blue Dragon as a GC, and associatively as an NGO. Physically, it is evident though their badges requesting “Please ask me about FOU’s food nutrition program” or “Please ask me about trafficking in Vietnam.”

Despite its immediate effectiveness, awareness and fund raising only goes so far, especially in the long run. Through its affiliation to the Blue Dragon NGO, it is a de facto responsibility for students involved, circumstances allowing of course, to travel to Hanoi to develop a richer understanding of their purpose. “We organised a small trip and I went there with my husband and children. We also took six students, out of whom three were Grade 12s as I am thinking about the

future,” she remarks. Beyond what is often referred to, and criticised as, “voluntourism,” Kate assets that “there is no point doing a global concern for just two years. The trip is the best way to meet the kids that we support and that is a meaningful experience.”

promoted, so I think that is a wonderful testament.” Within the walls of their office, there are four other former street kids working to give others the opportunities they were given, as the head of IT, head of social working, and two other social workers, respectively.

At the core of such meaning, Kate believes, is interpersonal recognition and empathy. “Part of the point,” she argues, getting animated now, “is not to pity the children, but to understand them.” On trips to Vietnam, what most would see of the children involved would seem typical, just “Normal kids who are laughing, playing, […] on their phone, chatty and giggly.” Below the surface, there is a heartbreaking reality—life is nowhere near easy for underprivileged Vietnamese children. Under the wooden bridges where many of the kids have slept, indecency preys on innocence. Visibly disquieted, Kate mentions the paedophilia ring in Hanoi, alas currently buried somewhere on major news providers’ sites, to which many of the boys have been victims. Through all the adversity they would have faced, overcoming what would have seemed as insurmountable to others, the children are still there, as evidence of their own resilience—individuals to be admired, without any trace of condescension.

Inevitably, the sensitive question of differences in privilege comes up, as it often does with many UWCSEA and similar minded initiatives; Being part of the UWC Movement inexorably brings with it a sliding scale when it comes to students’ wealth, reaching both ends of the spectrum.

There is no simple response to the concern, but it is clear that worst of all is to pretend or assume it does not exist. Relevance, though, is a separate issue; “There is no point in apologising for your upbringing. Just as those kids did not chose to be born in those slums, the kids here [in UWCSEA East] did not chose to be born into prosperity either,” Kate asserts pragmatically, “It is in what you do then with your life, to address that on another levels, in different parts of the world.”

For many, Blue Dragon is their way out of the slums. With a sense of hope, Kate mentions Vi, currently the organisation’s main outreach team leader. “He was a street kid, a shoe-shine boy, who was helped

by Michael and the Blue Dragon team to get education and now is the main social worker. He actually just got married and he has been

Imagining her own children in that situation, Kate’s voice quietens and sadly she mulled the thought over in her mind. “I cannot even imagine my children in that situation,” she offers at length. “And there lies that big gulf between us and them. We become more conscious of our privilege.” Guilt is unavoidable, but it alone does not compel action.

To this extent, empathy, a recognition of who we are and what we can do with it is required of us all. For Kate, it is also part of her role as a mother and educator. “We should make sure to keep our own kids real,” she affirms. “Or as far as they can be understanding of, or empathetic

to, every different situation of other children. That is why it had to be a family trip rather than a teacher taking some students.”

Looking to “Visions of Vietnam” as a model for the future, she realises that no individual organisation should stand alone, noting how the event was only possible with the help of the Vietnamese community and Singapore, and its contribution through the Friends of the Underprivileged NGO mentioned earlier. “So that was nice for me, to connect again with both roots,” she expresses joyfully, appreciating that looking forward meant asking for a helping hand from her past.

CHOICES What do you get when you combine an Oxford sportsman, a daring historian, an effulgent professor and a successful author? The answer is an individual as interesting as Malcolm Murfett.

Singapore was not always a financial hub attracting people from all over the world. One tends to forget that this most modern of Nation States was born not too long ago. In 2015 we’ll celebrate Singapore’s 50th birthday but I dare say many of us reading this are relatively new to Singapore. Like Washington DC, Singapore welcomes guests from far away nations for a short or intermediate spells. However, Malcolm Murfett has spent twenty years living in the Lion City. “When I first came here I thought this looked like a working American city in an Asian environment, a bit like Baltimore as it were in Asia,” he said, when I asked him how he found Singapore in 1995. “It was very strange.” The lively island Singapore is today contrasts wildly from what Murfett found when he and his family first arrived. “I came with my wife and young daughter, initially we would eat as we would normally eat in Oxford, but it was much more expensive. Am I here in Singapore? Am I here in Asia? I could have been a 1000 miles from Oxford, because it was very much a small village community.” The fast paced metropolitan island that Singapore is today was much like a village yesterday; the transition is truly baffling! “I almost had to pinch myself all the time,” he continues, “Western things set in a very obvious Asian environment, a very curious mix I thought.”

Singapore is a quite exciting country; if bored one can go to the night safari, eat multicultural food at Lau Pau Sat, visit the ArtScience museum, or simply catch a movie … made in Hollywood with Mandarin subtitles.

Bottom line: Singapore is filled with numerous opportunities and the country has made sure not to waste your leisure time. However, Murfett had something to say about Yesterday’s Singapore. “In the last 10 or 20 years it has been transformed. When we first came it was regarded as one of the most boring places on the planet, and it has become a very much more vibrant place.”

A career with NUS not only changed Malcolm, it also had a great impact on his children. As a father of four and a professor he was particularly careful when choosing a suitable school for his four children. In this sense, Murfett became not only a pioneer of the expat-community of Singapore but also a devoted UWC parent; “my kids have enjoyed UWC as a movement, as a school, they keep very close to their UWC community, and you will find people who have attended UWC everywhere in the world.”

As a student on the cusp of graduation, I was profoundly moved by Murfett’s portrayal of the UWC movement, my vision began to blur and as I swallowed the lump of nostalgia. So I did what any interviewer would do in an emotional situation, I asked another question. But this time we concentrated less on the sweep of Singapore’s recent history and more on the intimacy of his own story.

“You are the author of 14 books, and the father of 4 children,” I said, not that he needed reminding of course. Has he found similarities between the process of publishing and the process of parenting?

His mouth curled around the sides, “I think they are completely different” he said stifling a giggle. “I couldn’t have imagined I would have four kids … I mean where did that come from?” I couldn’t help but laugh with Murfett given the sincerity with which he expressed his surprise. “I mean, I couldn’t have imagined I would have more than two, but what man proposes God disposes seemingly, and as a good Catholic, there you are”!

Ever the dutiful student I plainly understood that raising four children must be challenging task, but I simply could not imagine the amount of work put into writing fourteen (yep, 14) books. How many Extended Essays fit into fourteen scholarly history books? “I’ve always loved writing and I’ve loved teaching,” Malcolm offers by way of a humble explanation.

“And people tell me I write as I talk so that people could hear me in the words that I use, I would like to think that true as I write for the general public: I write for people who are interested in something but are not experts in it. I’m interested in telling a story, but that does not mean I tell a narrative, I analyse and interpret to explain why I think it [the past] happened the way it did.” I felt reassured. Perhaps a life dedicated to exploring the past is not so much exhausting as it is fulfilling.

I’ve always wondered if by the time we reach a certain age, we can look back on life and be satisfied with our accomplishments and with our lives in general. “I think I have been very lucky in a way,” Murfett added, with a profound tone of thankfulness in his voice. “I’ve done a lot of different things, I played sports to high standards, I’ve been paid well to do a job that I have loved, I’m terribly lucky.” Malcolm’s job as a professor of History holds a tremendous amount of responsibility. One cannot simply

brush over the happenings of the past without acknowledging that history repeats itself or at the very least has a lesson to teach us about our own course in the present. Therefore, in a way historians are also advocates of the future. I wondered if the responsibility that this profession invests upon individuals affects them in any way. “You are who you are, you cannot become some kind of a steward, as a historian you research, read about it, dwell upon it. However, history does not change you.” Perhaps it does not but the past certainly inspires. Indeed, in a recent talk he gave to history students at UWCSEA East, Murfett was at pains to point out that a career in History comes without the promise of job security or financial reward. One becomes a historian because of a love for the work.

Deep within that sentiment there must be the tiniest hint of stewardship.

I wouldn’t expect Malcolm to acknowledge it because he’s far too modest.

That’s precisely why we need him, and people like him, choosing a life in academia.

Malcolm Murfett’s final note presented me with a simple yet revelatory notion, one that a life spent researching the past seems to have suggested: “I believe that in life we have the potential to do very bad things and very good things.” Malcolm could talk to you about his past, he could talk to you Singapore’s present. But what he seemed to be saying, and he said it as a man who took a risk in his choice of profession and took a risk in his choice of destination, is that these choices we make, for good or bad, are what define us. For a student on the cusp of graduation, living in country of the verge of its 50th birthday I considered it very good advice indeed.

Don’t worry about math or science, as long you’re happy and have each other then you are on the right track.

HOME Rough wooden planks arranged to create large shacks. Roofs lined with thick yellow straw. The air is hot and sticky.

Singapore—a country with 32 billionaires, 171 skyscrapers, and a GDP of almost 300 billion USD. One tends to forget how hot and sticky the air is when surrounded by serene, tall, and air conditioned buildings; one tends to forget that the utopian Singapore is often more visible than the traditional Kambungs that still remain aloof to many. These chaotic yet charming Singaporean Kampungs are home to many locals, one being Sarwani Bin Dohri, facilities officer at UWCSEA East.

“I really enjoyed my life in the village” he explained, “I [spent] maybe 20, 21 years there before I [moved]. What I really remember in that kind of environment, in the village — we call it kampong spirit. We have all races, every celebration we celebrate[d] together. We go to my Chinese friends’ house; life is connected. We walk from the first entrance of the kampong, it’s a Chinese village. Then you walk another kilometre, it’s a Malay village. So we are all connected.”

Sarwani’s kampong was, in that sense, not unlike the UWCSEA community: diverse and passionate. Much like us, his friends were all from different cultural backgrounds, but still shared the same happiness and thirst for life.

The differences between the life in Kampungs, and the life that most people lead in Singapore today, are unsurprisingly quite large.

Sarwani’s childhood would to many sound unique. Telling us of his adventures in the wilderness, scaling up and down various durian and rambutan trees, Sarwani drifts into a nostalgic reverie. “We [all had] our own daggers,” he recalled. “Our parents [would] buy a dagger, because they know that we will just go up the jungle and grab something. Then, their mom will say, ‘Hey guys, can you get durians?’ So we will go in, when [it was] durian season. Everyone [would] climb the durian tree, pluck it, get [a] gurney sack and bring [them] home.” Sarwani’s teenage years may sound rather unbelievable or as if they’re straight out of Kipling’s The Jungle Book, but this was in many cases normal, daily life no longer than 40 years ago.

According to Sarwani Kampong life was fun. “[In] those days we still can mingle around with other races, we sit down … we call[ed] it, long bench. That long bench everyone will sit down together, like maybe, in the weekends, we [have a] potluck. You bring the rice, I bring the gravy. We eat in a big tray. We wash our hands, and then this guy bring chicken, this guy bring egg, this guy bring vegetables, so we eat together. One big tray like that, four of us eat. So that’s the unique part in my generation. We interact in that kind of environment, eating together, doing that kind of outdoor activity.”

Kampong life was greeting your neighbour with a “Good morning, abang!” and learning to swim with the other boys in the river by the jungle. It was helping your nenek to sell kuih by the road side and listening to her say softly, “sayang, sayang” in return. As the sun starts to set and the crickets begin to chirp, welcoming the evening

sky. Mild orange, yellows, and hints of pink swirl, mixing together, interweaving in and out and around each other in the sky. A slight breeze washes across the village. A young boy with buzzed hair, a crooked front tooth, and a patched up, dirty ball in his hands starts his walk to the centre of the village. His stomach rumbles loudly as he pats it twice. It is time to join everyone for dinner.

As Sarwani describes a particular evening from his childhood, we are transported back in time with him. Four boys crammed together on a wooden bench, legs pressed against each other, balancing a tray on each lap. A little bit of brown rice here, a little bit of white rice there. Someone’s mother made her special ayam goreng, someone’s uncle managed to buy some spicy otak, someone else made their world-famous sambal belacan. The air is sweet and sticky, bare feet stepping on tiny ants trying to find some food. Yet none of that matters because the night is young and the Kampong is together once again.

As our conversation with Sarwani segues into another part of his life, his eyes become more solemn, and we sense a change in the atmosphere. Much like we will, Sarwani matured dramatically during his transition from a boy to a man. The time comes for every Singaporean male to enlist for National Service, and Sarwani was no exception. “My national service … [was] very colourful,” he explains.

Being a Kampong boy, Sarwani had wanted to be placed in the army so he could continue to spend his days in the jungle. However,

Sarwani was chosen to be part of the Singapore Police Force; and though he was disappointed with his initial placement, little did he know that it would drastically change him. “[In] the police force you learn marching, you live as a group; [as] a disciplined [and] uniformed group. You [learn] how to use the weapons, [how to use] defend tactics …” Sarwani experienced an exciting career as a National Servicemen. After Basic Military Training, Sarwani was appointed as a squad leader, and was subsequently appointed a position at a police division in Tanglin. He was hard-working and loyal to the cause, having grown from being a boy who had once spent his days scaling rambutan trees to become a mature young man. “When I was in the division, [I saw] a lot of stress. Young guy[s] sometimes [had] to attend bad cases … you know, [the] worst case I attended was Hotel New World … the Hotel New World collapse.”

The Hotel New World collapse occurred on the 15th of March, 1986 on Serangoon Road. The building was reportedly affected by a gas explosion and subsequently crumbled to pieces in less than a minute. This disaster was the first of its kind, causing a nationwide outbreak of shock and fear. “One afternoon before I had [a] half day, [after I went] back [home], my officer told me, ‘Come, I want you to come back,’ and I [said], ‘Why?’ ‘Because Hotel New World collapsed.’ I was [one of] the first few officer[s] on the scene. I was shocked. I really was. I didn’t know what to do. This [was] the first time in Singapore history there was [a] hotel collapse. So we [got] directions from the headquarters to move all the crowd 500

meters away. From there I stayed in that area for about 48 hours, and [there were a] few things we do: we had to set up a temporary mortuary and stuff like that. We had to do some ID for bodies and so they [told] us, ‘If you can’t take it, you move out’ and I say ‘No, no, I’m fine.”

At the age of 18, Sarwani was thrown directly onto a scene of disaster and panic. His drive to do his job, and do it well, is inspiring to all who stop to converse with Sarwani. It is without doubt that he is among the many unsung heroes that were involved during the hotel collapse.

“I think most of Singaporean males [didn’t] know what to expect when they [joined] NS. Because they didn’t know which unit they will be sent to, which department they will be sent to; so they needed to be ready [for everything]. Some of them [couldn’t] take it, some of them [went] mad. Really. Now it’s different, but [in] my time they just [threw you in]. Or maybe they see your background, your profiling, but I was so-called lucky. I got to get in a department which not many national servicemen [got into]. So yeah. I matured fast. By 18 years old I was like, whoa, I know a lot of things [that are] happening in Singapore.” From boyhood to his life as a young man, Sarwani experienced more hardships than many of us ever will in our lifetime. Through National Service, Sarwani found himself maturing quickly. The servicemen had to be strong. The men were shaped to become responsible, to always “think before you do, plan before you

do—so you know the consequences.” As Sarwani’s words settle in within us, we realise that it is without doubt that Sarwani would not be the man he is today without having given himself the room to grow and without having experienced every toss and turn in his life.

“One of my younger brothers told me, in civil defence, the ones who [attended] this Hotel New World collapse [were legends]. ‘I didn’t know you were one of the legends,’ My brother told me, and I said, ‘No, no, I’m not. I just did my job.”

Despite not having the life that is often associated with contemporary Singapore, with its modern gadgets, gizmos and conveniences, nonetheless Sarwani has lived a rich and meaningful life; serving his nation, and being part of one of Singapore’s most historical moments. If there is anything to be taken from what Sarwani has learnt, it is the importance of home. A home where you can spend time with your family and friends, as well as have the opportunity to grow as a person.

OPPORTUNITY As Lily gazed into the distance, she sat in tranquillity for a while, trying to figure out a way to accurately explain how she felt. A few minutes passed, and the newly serious look on her face showed that she found the words. “When I came to Singapore, I tried to adapt to the situation, like homosexuality is okay here, but once I go back to my country I have to adapt to that environment and be like that is not okay. Because if I don’t, then everyone would be like, are you crazy or something?”

Elisabeth Do Rosario Vincente was sitting on her sofa. It had been a standard Sunday for her; church in the morning, then back home to continue her homework. Yet, it would turn out to be nothing short of indelible. She remembers it in detail, how she was working rigorously, when her mother came into the kitchen to give her the phone. Slightly bewildered, she took the call. In the moments after hanging up, she began to realise that it was a scholarship administration officer at UWCSEA Dover, in Singapore, and that she had been admitted.

In the underdeveloped and newly independent Southeast Asian country, Timor-Leste, Lily knew the life young women, such as herself, had in store. Attending school, getting pregnant at the age of 16, and then serving as housewives for their husbands for the rest of their life is, unfortunately, the norm. “Even one of my best friends got pregnant as I was getting ready to leave for Singapore” she says, matter-offactly. In ironic contrast to country’s views on homosexuality, a Catholic remnant of its Portuguese colonial past, teen pregnancy is

rife, and it seems that the lack of sex education negatively affects Timorese teens. Fortunately, Lily has a unique family: parents who imagine a stunning future for their children, far beyond what most parents in Timor-Leste saw for their daughters. Earlier, her older brother had made their dreams come true by inheriting a scholarship to a university abroad, and now it was her turn.

Her journey began when she heard about the IFP conferences from her brother, who attended the IFP Bali conference in 2009. “Initiative for Peace,” is a programme founded by UWCSEA students and staff in 2001. Over the course of Grade 11, UWCSEA student participants train and plan for a weeklong peacebuilding conference for youths in locations with a recent history of conflict, such as Timor-Leste. Come the beginning of summer, they become student facilitators of their conference in the country and society they were individually designed for. Conferences are kept small to foster rapport and intimacy, and as she recalls “There [were] like 40 of us, and 20 facilitators.” Designed to encourage discourse and open-mindedness among its delegates, the topics discussed are hardly light, ranging from domestic abuse to sustainable development. So far, it has been successful in doing so.

As soon as she heard of the programme, she had a burning desire to be part of something she knew would be significant in her life, wanting to experience what her brother did. After waiting forbearingly for two years, Lily was ecstatic to find out she was selected to be part of the conference in Dili, the capital of Timor-Leste. “The first day I was

really quiet,” she said, explaining the difficulty of adjusting to English.

Later she realised she just had to tune in to the key words, and the rest of the sentence would fall into place. Elisabeth had arrived to the conference diffident, but walked away bold; Not just about her English, but feeling sanguine about making a positive difference in the world. “It’s a Catholic country. Really religious. Homosexual[ity] kind of [doesn’t] [exist].” She said that discussing legislation regarding homosexuality was so new to her, it gave her an entirely new perspective. Everyone in East Timor seemed to tediously share the same beliefs; “In my country, everyone is the same, everything is the same.”

Be the end of the conference, UWCSEA was promoting its scholarship program and encouraging delegates to apply. Elisabeth realised she finally had the opportunity she had been waiting for, to leave TimorLeste, or at least for a while. She was exhilarated, and felt extremely lucky. If anything, it was wanderlust that drove Elisabeth to apply for the scholarship, “When I heard about it, I was like ‘whoa thats so cool’, you can actually fly to see the world,” Lily recalled. Elisabeth explained how when the applications arrived in September, she was having an uneventful day at school. Elisabeth and her friends flipped through the application together; giggling at the cliché questions, brainstorming creative answers, just hoping they would make the cut.

After waiting patiently for 213 days, she finally got the call for an interview. Her nerves has spiked and had to focus on keeping calm

As soon as she heard of the programme, she had a burning desire to be part of something she knew would be significant in her life, wanting to experience what her brother did. After waiting forbearingly for two years, Lily was ecstatic to find out she was selected to be part of the conference in Dili, the capital of Timor-Leste.

so she could answer the questions compellingly. She mentioned how stressful the process was, and how it was so incredibly stretched out that she had forgotten that she even filled the application in the first place. Until Elisabeth was sitting on her sofa, attempting to finish her homework. Her mother appeared into the room, handed her the phone, and as she took the call slightly bewildered, she realised that it was one of the scholarship administration officials, informing her about the scholarship she had received, located just 2679 km from East Timor. “I [didn’t] want to come to Singapore. I [wanted to], but there [are] other choices that are better” Elisabeth greatly appreciated the opportunity she was given, although she was slightly disappointed that she was going to stay in Asia. Fortunately, the joy of the opportunity far outweighed the disappointment of its location.

been part of a public Timorese school, where Christianity was an overarching influence. Lily finds herself wrapped in one particular issue, homosexuality, which has made evident the social differences in the environment of East Timor and Singapore. In Timor, though she did not agree with it, it was difficult to oppose culturally ingrained homophobia—she knew the potentially violent conflict it would incur.

Yet in her new, diverse environment, she finds herself opposing the view she has held on to for her entire life; that homophobia is wrong.

Still, the cognitive dissonance is not lost to her; despite being part of UWCSEA for some time now, she is still figuring out whether she is, or can be the same person here as she is in Timor, whenever she returns.

For now, the best she can do is to adapt to her new environment, blend in with the society that surrounds her.

When Lily arrived in Singapore, she noticed drastic differences between her new life and her old one. “Here, everyone is trying to compete, but in East Timor, we didn’t really care much about our grades.” In comparison to her old school, UWCSEA Dover is much more competitive, and not just academically. Despite its initial challenges, she caught on soon enough, and it would not be an overstatement to say that she’s currently thriving.

In June 2014 she returned to East Timor, not just to visit home, but also to re-live her fateful experience in the Initiative for Peace conference—only this time as a student facilitator from UWCSEA. She was invaluable, helping break down the language barrier between facilitators, most of whom did not speak any of East Timor’s three main languages, Tetum, Portuguese or Indonesian. Inevitably, interpersonal barriers initially existed, but as with the language gap they became non-issues, largely thanks to Lily’s efforts.

Life in Singapore was different, its culture, especially within the UWCSEA community, starkly different to what she was used to. She noticed that people here were a lot more open-minded seeing as they have been attending international schools, whereas she had

Throughout the conference and its preparation, there were running jokes, many which were inexplicably related to martial arts in some form or another. The most memorable was a quote by Bruce Lee: “You

must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.

Water can drip and it can crash. Be water my friend.”

Perhaps Lily has taken this quote more seriously than others; in a way, Lily has become water. She adjusts to the lifestyle she is surrounded by, whether it is in Singapore, or East Timor. In fact, in some ways, we are all water; trying to adapt and blend according to our environment.

ABILITY [During the interview, I was very fortunate to have the assistance of both Sakun and Mr B, who volunteered to help with translation during the interview; Sakun would translate Cambodian sign language to Khmer, Mr B would then translate Khmer to English, and vice versa.]

In an auditorium packed with Grade 11 and 12 students, nine dancers perform. The piece, entitled “Safe Love,” is a performance aimed to spread awareness and promote the importance of contraceptives and practicing safe sex.

The choreography is not particularly intricate, but there is no reason for it to be; every move performed is precise with purpose and focus. A refreshing change from conventional dance routines that are often overpacked with choreography and tricks, their performance carries a simple artistry about it. Beneath the storyline, however, is the occasional hint of contemporary technique that is undeniably a product of rigorous training. Transitions are smooth, and the space is well-utilised by the dancers who go through multiple formations. This is no easy feat considering that some dance with a wheelchair, and many of them have are physically impaired.

The journey for the dancers to get to where they are now has not been easy. Proving Epic Arts’ commitment to their mission of inclusion and equality, all members of the company have roles of equal importance and difficulty regardless of ability. Given the physically demanding nature of dance, the disabilities that most members of the group have,

and the fact that they have only been dancing since Epic Arts began their Inclusive Arts Course in 2013, this is no mean feat. Naturally, the dancers cite the physical challenge as the biggest struggle they face.

However, there are also many other issues that Epic Arts face in their work, a large one being the stigma surrounding disability in Cambodia.

Mr T recounts to me the chilling story of Phuong*, a fellow Epic Arts member back in Cambodia, whose Down Syndrome was the cause of a turbulent past. This stigma, created by a lack of awareness and education regarding disability, led to much fear and disgust of Phuong and her family. Fearing permanent social isolation and threats to the safety of their family, her parents were forced to pretend their daughter did not exist. Whilst they were at work, she would be kept in a cage covered by leaves, trapped inexcusably like an animal. Her only time of release was during lunch, when her mother would come home to feed her, before restoring the camouflage and returning to work. Through a series of events, Epic Arts managed to extract her from the deplorable situation. Unfortunately, this isn’t the only unjustifiable action that epic arts members have endured. Everyday, disabled persons in Cambodia are discriminated against, treated as criminals who have dared to oppose social and physical norms of society. This is the sort of stigma that Epic Arts aims to eradicate, through their educational programs.

I did not have to look any farther than the members of Epic Encounters themselves to see evidence of it’s success. The members of the dance company have come from many different backgrounds: Thou was

Epic Arts has taught me to see ability, not disability.

living with her family in a village that she had never left, Chamreoun was a tailor in Phnom Penh, their friend Seangly was also situated in the country’s capital, studying to become a hairdresser. Before Epic Encounters, Thou, who has a disability on her right arm, mentioned that becoming a dancer was a possibility she had never even dreamed of. When a neighbour first informed her family that the Inclusive Arts Course was looking for students, she jumped at the opportunity to explore the world outside of her village. This was a cause of concern to her older siblings, who worried about Thou living away from the support of her family. It was only through the encouraging environment that the organisation provided that Thou was able to see a future with her disability that was beyond the horizon of her village. Epic Arts strengthened her confidence in both her disability and ability, and helped her feel more comfortable in her own skin.

Like Thou, many of the company’s members had never considered dance and the arts as a future. Chamreoun mentioned a prior interest in dance, having watched a few YouTube videos of hip hop and contemporary dance, but never found the right opportunity to pursue his passion.

He says that Epic Arts turned that hope into a reality, and more importantly, has made him happy with what he has achieved.

This confidence and motivation is reflected in their future aspirations, which invariably seem to be centred around the arts and a desire to give back to their communities. Chamreoun wants to focus on his dancing right now, and sees himself in a job that supports the disabled in the

future. Thou, like Chamreoun, is content as a performer, but also dreams of starting her own business in order to support her family. Sann plans to continue working with the arts for the rest of his life.

It is clear that Epic Arts’ work has educated and empowered the communities it reaches out to. As Sann put it, Epic Arts has taught him to see ability, not disability. *Not her real name

CONVICTION Dressed in black, matching the utter darkness of the Black Box Theatre, Eugene Toh and Eugene Tay immediately captivated their audience. Through unveiling the hidden spiritual stories of Singapore, Toh and Tay revealed more about the complexity of their work and beliefs as ghost hunters.

Almost as a preface to the talk, they warned us in the audience that besides the weak, ghosts prey on the non-believers. Tay advised the best way to avoid being possessed is to be convinced of the existence of spirits. The first sign is a heavy feeling in the shoulders, as the spirit is physically latching onto the non-believer’s body.

Yet most people, especially the non-believers, want indisputable scientific evidence. Toh and Tay understand this, and it forms the basis of their investigations. While they describe themselves as ghost hunters, they recognise they are simultaneously researchers. For Toh, their study is about retrieving a justification for the truth. However, for Tay, the purpose is to understand how to communicate with spirits given his previous experiences.

While Tay completely believes in ghosts, Toh describes himself as “an almost skeptic” when considering the existence of ghosts. Determined to find an explanation since he was a child, Toh recalled, “I always went to the library to learn more about this phenomenon.” Still unsatisfied with some accounts for incidents when ghosts are often assumed, Toh became part of Supernatural Asia to investigate. As

the Director of Gadgets for the Singapore Paranormal Society, Toh is dead keen on researching spirits using technology. Since joining, his belief in ghosts has only grown, yet he does not feel he will ever be fully convinced. He described how their methods of detection correlate with the presence of ghosts, but they are still unsure how to explain those relationships and he will not be certain until he has valid reasoning.

His research has since advanced to understanding more about how electromotive force (EMF) sparks in the presence of ghosts but it is not conclusive yet whether “ghosts release EMF or attract it”. However, his exploration extends to studying how humans perceive ghosts beyond simply the nature of spirits. After speaking to a neurologist, he learned “a very high fluctuation in EMF allows your brain to see flashes,” which may explain the images of spirits humans perceive.

Besides detecting the presence of ghosts, Toh and Tay work to devise discrete ways to communicate with the spirit world. While there are technical challenges in investigating ghosts, Tay described several other factors they need to consider. “Always know that entities can lie to you,” he warned, which makes it even more difficult to interpret their results. Although there are difficulties in trusting the responses, the presence of a response shows how spirits may be trying to communicate. While Toh tries to quantify their results, Tay believes, “You never know the kind of power” when dealing with spirits. Everyone hears these stories about ghosts but the experience

brings forward an underlying aspect of the spirit world that may not be quantifiable.

For Toh, this accumulation of experiences has slowly developed his belief, yet only one occurrence completely convinced Tay. As a child, he was frightened by his grandmother’s stories and superstitions but never strongly believed them. His beliefs started to change when he found his girlfriend over several months had begun to act differently.

“It was not just a single moment where she was possessed,” he explained. She would speak in different languages and suddenly have a different voice or laugh. Tay didn’t think it would be logical to conclude that a spirit possessed her immediately. Her condition became more severe that she would become harmful to herself and others. He had to confront himself, “Are you still going to be a nonbeliever or are you going to maybe do something about this?”

His personal duty drove his need to investigate and after several years he has become immersed in the complexity of communicating with spirits. Having learned how to hunt ghosts, his girlfriend has recovered and the success of his methods makes him certain ghosts are present among us. Even though Toh has had even more encounters investigating spirits, Tay’s one experience completely altered his perspective.

A common theme in their contact with ghosts is how spirits do not want to relinquish their past. While ghosts are feared, this suggests

We have a huge array of entities, not like in the Western world with only Dracula and vampires.

they do not do anything maliciously but are trying to save all they have after now being alone in the spirit world. Often the ghost stays in their previous home and taunts the current tenants into leaving, yet nothing harmful seems to be done. One story includes how in one house, the family noticed their shoes kept being rearranged. Nine shoes lined up at the door. After investigating, Tay discovered nine spirits were present in the house. They wanted the new residents to leave and that’s why they were rearranging items around the house in nines to communicate their presence.

Nothing harmful was done, yet the family moved out of the house after Tay was unable to convince the ghosts to leave. The idea that they were not alone and perhaps it could become malicious may have been what scared the family away. The family believes in spirits so the ghosts would not have needed to possess the family to prove their presence. Their ghost roommates appear to want privacy in their previous home and nothing else. Wouldn’t having the power of communication with the spirits through Toh suggest harmful possessions will not occur? But that’s the problem with spirits, their intentions, like their existence, are difficult to prove for most.

Perhaps one day something more severe than nine books rearranged would occur.

Most do not experience this side of traditional beliefs underneath Singapore’s modern skyscrapers exterior. Raised in Singapore, Tay explained how he grew up in a traditionally Asian environment, and

how “Grandmas always tell you horror stories.” Before going to sleep he would hear the terrifying cases of pontianaks, a Malaysian vampirelike entity. The beliefs were so widespread that he didn’t feel he, nor anyone else, should test the stories.

Southeast Asia in fact has the highest density of spirits Toh. However, what he finds most interesting is how widespread the belief of spirits are and how every culture seems to have their own names for different entities within Southeast Asia. Thai cultures have a “little devil spirit” similar to the Malaysian pontianak. “We have a huge array of entities, not like in the Western world with only Dracula and vampires,” he explained. He believes the diversity of “energy forms” in Southeast Asia could explain why it is believed to be the densest in spirits.

It’s more curious how although Asian cultures have more entities, Western cultures still have their own ghost stories. Toh wants “science to be able to explain everything,” and several would argue that spirits were our explanations when we didn’t have science. Yet spirits seem to represent something greater than an explanation for the paranormal, not only in Singapore. Spirits were the idea that humans would continue to exist in a different form. While more Asian cultures believe in reincarnations compared to Western ones, the evidence of ghost stories in all cultures suggests how this was a common ideal for humans.

Perhaps then it is not about proving the existence of ghosts but understanding the source of beliefs. For many, the traditional culture

provides the foundation for questioning the spirit world and possibly for other clashes with modern beliefs. Tay and Toh work to understand where their culture, experience and evidence merge to form their perspectives. Most value discrete evidence more, but Tay and Toh show simply because that may be the easiest to understand, it is important to investigate all of the aspects.

SERENDIPITY The UWC movement has a long and varied history that can be difficult for most to explain accurately or succinctly. However, this is precisely what Julian Whiteley had to do every year as part of his welcome talk for new members of staff. The erstwhile Head of College would begin with the version that most of us would be familiar with: Kurt Hahn’s vision for a United World College formed ‘a mission to make education a force to unite people, nations and cultures for peace and sustainable future.’ That’s a phrase we all instinctively know as part of the UWC community and anyone else could learn from just skimming the UWC website.

But Julian’s version would shift into a more personal account. Julian did not recreate what UWC stood for but he had to change something.

When he arrived at the college, UWCSEA was not fully embodying the UWC mission; yet Kurt Hahn’s philosophies influenced Julian to understand exactly how he could accomplish UWC principles. While still striving to achieve the mission, Julian reinvented what it means to be part of the UWC movement. For Julian it was not just a job: it was a calling.

The problem with the above story is that it rather suggests that Julian’s 10 years as Head of College were somehow preordained.

In fact, it was quite the reverse. Julian’s story at UWCSEA started with what he describes as an ‘element of serendipity.’ There was no plan or design, he explains almost gleefully. As a matter of fact, he had pursued other opportunities only to find himself momentarily

unemployed. And here’s where the serendipity lies. Instead deciding to take on a relaxing, low intensity endeavour, he applied for the unexpectedly advertised job of Head of College of UWCSEA, which at the time meant solely the Dover campus. However, the serendipity of that experience is not in the spontaneity, but in how such a position, which he had not originally been looking for, happened to fit him and his values so perfectly at UWC. Julian’s UWC journey started by overcoming a difficulty, which appropriately set up how his own principles would guide him through more challenges he would both face and make himself and the college pursue. When Julian undertook the UWC mission in 2005, Dover only included students in middle and high school. Since then, UWCSEA has experienced a great amount of change, most notably in size but also in its culture. The UWCSEA before Julian’s time did not have the same focus on the mission Kurt Hahn set, which led Julian to redefine how we at UWCSEA needed to accomplish it.

It would be an understatement to say that under Julian’s watch UWCSEA has experienced a great amount of change, especially in its size. There were many factors contributing to the growth of the college, some were political, some were economic, but at the core was a determination from Julian to ensure UWCSEA achieves its mission to promote peace and sustainability. With such a bold mission statement, it was difficult to think about how UWCSEA could achieve it in a small setting. As Julian explains, that’s why the UWC movement

exists, but even with each college fulfilling the mission is a Herculean task. So UWCSEA needed to grow and Julian took a first step when Dover expanded from 1800 students to 2600 students in 2006. That did not simply mean 800 more learners from one year to the next, it also meant more teachers, more resources and a complete shift in the day to day reality.

That expansion was working towards Julian’s primary aim while at UWCSEA of redefining how Kurt Hahn’s philosophies are relevant to the college. In a school still growing, he wanted to come back to the core of the UWC mission of making ‘education a force.’ He believed ‘as soon as you say that, you’ve got to do it on the scale.’ These philosophies needed the opportunity to be spread as much and as effectively as they can be. It was towards the end of 2006 that the idea of a second campus was proposed. It would have been easy to dismiss the idea as too much pie in the sky; it would have been easy to allow the project to become mired in the quick sands of bureaucracy.

But Julian likes a challenge. When Julian presented the notion of East to the college board they were initially skeptical but he kept to his guiding principles.

Initial skepticism turned quickly to excitement and pretty soon the second campus had the support of the Singapore government. Within two years of it being mooted and within three of Julian’s unexpected arrival at UWCSEA, the first ‘East’ Campus at Ang Mo Kio opened. In August 2008, there were 400 students and 40 staff now contributing

as equal partners to a new chapter of Julian’s story at UWCSEA. Since then the second campus has expanded into the UWCSEA East we know: a school part of a greater movement but still growing towards its own version of the mission. Julian accurately explains the journey so far, “I don’t think anything could have prepared any of us for it.” The same could said for all true pioneers.

The UWC movement strives to cultivate strong, independent and self-aware citizens. As Julian reflects on a college that has more than doubled in population and mass he ruminates on an issue he is unsure how to best address. In life after UWC, he argues, students find the world is much more mono-cultural than the UWCSEA community they experienced. Promoting diversity is part of UWC’s mission. As Julian encouraged the same guiding principles at UWCSEA East, it would not be surprising if East alumni encounter a similar shock, not necessarily problem. It’s not as if we could or should make our colleges less diverse, he suggests, but perhaps there is a way to ensure our graduates carry the torch of diversity into the next phase of their lives.

“I would hate to change what we’re doing and develop people who are going to be cynical,” Julian explains. It was that clear vision and commitment to the UWC culture he aimed to implement that makes his UWC story so significant. Kurt Hahn also found that principle a tenet of the UWC education and wrote, “Education must enable young people to effect what they have recognised to be right, despite hardships, despite dangers, despite inner skepticism, despite boredom, and despite mockery from the world.” Julian is far too modest to

ever acknowledge it but his pioneer’s role is further exemplified by the sheer volume of students and teachers who want to share their experiences with him and thank him for his work.

But as I’ve mentioned, he’s far too modest. Ask Julian about his legacy and he immediately explains that he did not implement his goals on his own. After all, “I would have failed in what I was trying to do whilst I was here if I couldn’t walk out this door tomorrow and the whole thing would carry on.” That is the very mindset of someone living the UWC mission, building this ‘sustainable future’ for East.

Julian accomplished what he did at UWCSEA with the help of others but his role cannot be underplayed. Part of being in the UWC community is recognising leadership in all of its forms. While he modestly explains that he could not have made East without others’ help, he played an influential role in inspiring others to accomplish this feat. Part of this was the importance of establishing positive relationships. At ‘East’, especially at the beginning, all of the relationships between students, teachers and the wider community were new. Julian’s emphasis on the importance of trust, honesty and mutual respect was essential to bring these strangers together towards a common goal of establishing not just the bricks and mortal that comprise the building but the respect and integrity the define our culture.

‘East’ by its nature as a new campus faced challenges. We haven’t won every battle we’ve fought and in the future we may well lose a few

more. Julian has helped the community understand the importance of failure. This sentiment has become an indelible part of how we see ourselves. It would seem that this culture would die out as East became older and created its own identity, but it has not. Students of course are nervous to fail, but the culture Julian has created during the development of East is about shaping individuals at UWCSEA. It is understood by East how part of shaping this individual is through mistakes. “I genuinely believe,” Julian argued, “in the concept of doing something that scares you each week.”

UWCSEA East will face many new challenges as we continue to grow over the years but we will face them without Julian now that he has left the college. However, we have the community he helped shape to guide us. Describing himself as the “catalyst for other people to do huge amounts” highlights exactly what UWC is: instilling these philosophies to enable students to accomplish greatness. Kurt Hahn thoroughly believed his ideas were not new, but ‘needed to be lived.’

And Julian discovered how to make those philosophies live at East.

After all, there is more in you than you think.

The East Stories team has worked collaboratively throughout the year; writers became photographers, photographers became writers.

Nita Bislimi | Megha Ranjan | Jeffrey Blake Bullwinkel | Carson Tucker | Shukri Ahmad Shahizam | Wen Yi Lim | Jim Lim Chin Beng | Anastasia Filimontseva | Ma. Regine Victoria Anastacio | Victoria Ivory Birrell | Megan Chew | Quinn Tucker | Michelle Yi Ting Tay | Anamaria Golemac Alexander McGregor facilitated the project and gave the team the opportunity to grow as leaders and as individuals.

Special thanks to the UWCSEA communications team for their advice, unconditional support and expertise.

SinĂŠad Collins | Nandita Gupta | Sabrina Rech

UWC South East Asia, East Campus 1 Tampines Street 73 Singapore 528704 Tel. +65 6305 5344 www.uwcsea.edu.sg 156COM–1415 Printed on 100% recycled paper with environmentally friendly inks.