LAST week, Malaysia lost one of her great community builders, Datin Paduka Sister Enda Ryan.
Born in Ireland in 1928, she moved to Malaysia (then Malaya) in 1954 after the then Chief Justice of Malaya, Sir Michael Hogan, requested for her to establish schools for girls whose education had been interrupted during the Communist insurgency.
She became a Malaysian citizen in 1966.
Sister Enda invested in the Petaling Jaya community, building up Assunta Hospital (then Ave Maria Clinic) and the all-girls Assunta Secondary School where she served as headmistress for 31 years.
I was born in Assunta Hospital in the 80s but had little inkling of Sister Enda until I started my secondary education at Assunta Secondary School, just a kilometre down the street from the hospital.
It was 2001, by which time Sister Enda had been retired for over 10 years. As young “Assuntarians” (the term we fondly used to describe ourselves), we were introduced to her through stories from our seniors, teachers and ex-students.
One such ex-Assuntarian, a champion runner in the 70s, told me of the time she was training for a competition on the school field. Sister Enda passed by and asked if her spiked running shoes were any good. Yes, was the answer. Sister Enda then asked if she could test them out. And so she did, running one round on the school field, spiky running shoes tearing through the green grass, grey habit in the wind. “I confirm they are good,” she said as she returned the shoes.
That story intrigued me.
And then she really appeared one sports day in my first year of secondary school. Picking up the microphone, she called out to us as if she knew us, “Come on, girls!” and led us in singing our beloved school song that she wrote years ago.
Two thousand energetic voices filled the air like a warm helium cloud as we sang: “Truth and charity will be our rule. We’ll be ever faithful to our school!”
Sister Enda continued to appear – at sports days, our English Literature and Debating Society concerts and special assemblies. She’d always have a word of encouragement or inspiration to share, rousing us to aim for excellence before she led us in our school song.
“To truth through charity” was our school motto, and we held fast to it. I remember a large fundraising project in my final year. We were tasked to help raise funds for a new building and walkway. If students could raise half, a prominent member of the Parent-Teachers Association would very generously match it.
My friends and I furiously baked and sold cookies. We walked all over Section 5, PJ, asking people to sponsor our jogathon and getting chased by a few dogs in the process. When we hit the target, we felt the deepest satisfaction of contributing to and being part of something bigger than ourselves.
Across my school years, there were other ways that Sister Enda “appeared”. Her voice carried through the school’s corridors and unwritten code of conduct. The school pushed for excellence in our studies, our sporting pursuits, and our self-expression through drama and public speaking.
But most of all, the school pushed for a strong sense of community, of strength in diversity, imparting in us a sense of responsibility in contributing to our communities, to Malaysia.
Where we were from didn’t matter. It was our responsibility to determine where we landed, and our choice of how we’d treat people along the way. Years later, those important lessons remain a guiding star for me.
Malaysians have seen ups and downs in these past weeks. Perhaps more than ever, the principles of tolerance, respect, appreciation for diversity, care for our communities and nation-building need to be preserved and nurtured.
Dear Sister Enda, though you never knew my name, I want you to know how much your life is a legacy and how thousands of girls (and boys) were blessed and shaped by your investment. Goodbye, and thank you.
HANNAH DAYANG MARAN
Petaling Jaya
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