Oh, the people you’ll meet

A filepic of students at the International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM).

IN Dr Seuss’s Oh, The Places You’ll Go!, the writer mentions a place known as The Waiting Place. There, everyone is just standing, and waiting for something to happen, but time stays frozen. Time only begins to move when the protagonist continues to explore the world.

This reminds me of my time as a part-time trainer at the International Islamic University Malaysia (IIUM), my undergraduate alma mater. There, I taught a class on public speaking and contemporary issues.

The students were from all over the (mostly Muslim) world. Sudan, Bangladesh, India, Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Brunei, Singapore, China, and more.

Occasionally there would be Canadians and Americans (usually of Muslim origin).

The students would come and go, but with every class in every semester, there were many memorable moments.

For instance, in the introductory class, I usually enjoyed testing their knowledge. I called it the “humbling strategy”.

“Is the Palestine-Israeli issue important to you?” I’d ask.

Most of the students would nod.

“Why?”

“Because we are Muslims, Al-Aqsa is a sacred site and the Palestinians are our brethren,” said a student confidently.

“Okay, good point …” I’d reply.

I would then draw an oval-shaped object on the whiteboard that represented the geographical area.

I’d place three labels – “A”, “B” and “C” – on different parts of the drawing.

“... in that case, tell me … where is Al-Aqsa located?”

From experience, most students would not be able to answer the question. Occasionally they’d call my bluff and point to Egypt.

“How do you expect to be part of the solution if you don’t even know where the mosque is?” I’d ask them.

“What more as there are historical and geo-political considerations to be borne in mind?”

This usually had a humbling effect on the students (which was necessary for some of them). University students can be know-it-alls. I know because I was like that once upon a time and was appropriately put in place by my trainer, Fareez Zahir.

Eventually, I’d tell my students, “At the end of each lesson, it’s good to feel ‘stupid’.”

(Fareez certainly made me feel like that, but in a good way. Personally, it reminded me that there was more to learn about the world, and this gave me the motivation to continue to learn.) 

At the same time, I was able to cross paths with many interesting students. And one time, my “humbling strategy” didn’t work.

After asking the Al-Aqsa location question, a student, who answered it correctly, raised her hand and asked “Brother Danial (brother is how we addressed each other in IIUM), why is it called the West Bank even though it is located on the east of the map?”

A good question which left me stumped as it had never crossed my mind.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s located along the west bank of the Jordan river,” she responded confidently.

I eventually found out that she was from Palestine and had lived the daily challenges the rest of us usually read about in newspapers. We became good friends and I learnt many new things about the conflict.

I also had backup questions from that day onwards.

Another interesting student was a girl from Kashmir. For various reasons, she had a profound dislike for India. And men. Whenever she substantiated an argument in her speeches, examples of something going wrong would somehow be linked to India, or men.

During group discussions, she’d turn her chair towards the opposite direction. Once, she faced the wall rather than her co-presenter! It certainly made for a challenging time.

I eventually found out that she had come from a conservative upbringing and wasn’t used to working with the opposite gender. I told her that she need not focus on the gender, but respect and value her classmates for their ideas. And in return, they would too.

As for her India-bias, I made her give a presentation on “Why India is a good nation”. She clearly wasn’t happy, but I refused to budge. It was important for her to be able to analyse issues from various perspectives, and this exercise in critical thinking was to expand her horizons.

The standoff was tense, but being the trainer (and the person determining her grades), she gave the presentation, and I must say it was good.

Over time, she became more relaxed and participative. The biases were still there, but she could laugh about it.

I’m told that she now participates in debate competitions and performs commendably.

There were many more memorable characters along the way. There were the Afghani brothers, one of whom could speak Malay (and won an international Bahasa Melayu public speaking competition) and the other who was always laughing (what is funny is culturally relative), a Bangladeshi boy who spoke too fast when he was nervous (that his English started sounding like Bengali), and a small Kyrgyzstan girl who started off barely audible only to turn into one of the most confident speakers I ever met.

The Malaysians too were very special. Many, I noticed, were motivated to improve their English so as to not be overtaken by their international classmates, whom generally had less exposure to English during their school years.

I am glad to have had the opportunity to teach. Most, if not all, of my students have influenced my life in one way or another. Some still send me greetings on Teachers Day.

Rather than wait to travel, I’ve been able to explore the world from the experiences of my students. I’m glad they had the opportunity to study in Malaysia.

On that note, I wish them, wherever they are, the best.

“Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed. (98 3⁄4% guaranteed.)”

> The views expressed are entirely the writer’s own.