Pieces of Alice
I first knew of this lady when she put up an article about RELA raids on The Micah Mandate. It was startling in style, written almost like a script for an action movie. That caught my attention. The little blurb at the bottom telling me that she is a member of the Executive Committee of HAKAM piqued my interest further. So I did what I normally do in these circumstances—I googled her. And wow, she does have quite a presence on the web.
In introducing her blog, she writes about the fragmented world we live in and says that her blog contains “fragments of a self called Alice”. I thought I might put together some of these fragments.
From her blog I learnt that she is a Christian and serious about her faith. She has a Masters degree in Social Science. She writes well, with a contemplative style that I appreciate. When writing about the refugees she gets personal, which is good. As for her work, she writes:
I advocate for the protection of migrants and refugees in Malaysia. I do this primarily through research, writing, teaching and coordinating. I collaborate with civil society groups and other committed individuals – lawyers, writers, teachers – who work together to protect and assist the vulnerable amongst these populations.
I share about the everyday lives of migrants and refugees, find loopholes in the existing immigration system, and analyse why different groups are given different treatment. I look at how formal systems of power – laws, policies, and administrative procedures – need to be changed. I share this analysis with others.
So why does a young lady, well-educated and skilled, involve herself in a job that obviously is not going to take her places material-rewards-wise?
I stumbled into working with migrants and refugees. It started with a simple conversation over tea. A friend of mine told me about Aceh, which was under martial law at that time, and that Acehnese were fleeing to Malaysia. When I met some of the refugees, I asked them about their lives in Aceh and what they faced here, in Malaysia. I was shocked at what I found out.
They showed me their scars – where bullets ripped through their bodies, where they were electrocuted and where cigarettes were burned into their flesh as they were interrogated. I saw the resolution in their eyes, which wavered as they recalled painful events. They struggled to maintain a stoic expression. They looked lost, beaten, struggling for hope.
I was shocked that they faced even more persecution in Malaysia as ‘illegal immigrants’. They lived in constant fear of getting arrested, of being sent to detention centres, and of being whipped. The tension was great even as they sat at coffee shops or lay down to sleep in their homes. It escalated every time there was a rumour of an Immigration raid. They knew that there was nothing to stop their doors from being smashed down, or their family members from being taken away in the middle of the night.
And here is an excerpt of a piece she wrote on the Achehnese after the horror of the tsunami:
Being in Malaysia is painful for most of them. It is painful not only because they are always on their guard, scared of being arrested at any time of the day, feeling a constant insecurity that plagues their sleep and keeps them ever watchful wherever they go.
It is painful not only because they cannot find work, or are fired from their jobs because the towkays are now afraid of being caught in impending immigration operations. It is painful not just because they live from day to day, hoping that a friend will buy them a little food for tomorrow.
It is most painful because they miss home.
They want to search for family and friends, to kiss their parents, to hug their children and to never let them go. But they don’t have the money or the guarantee of safety, to go home. Aceh remains under Civil Emergency; there has been no official demilitarization, the TNI soldiers still rule their villages.
“What can I do”, they ask me. “Tell me if any NGOs need volunteers, I am ready to go back”. “I am ready to help rebuild Aceh”. “I want to go home”.
“In Aceh” my friend Mohammad would tell me, “beautiful orchids grow wild, spread out in every direction”. “In Aceh”, he would say with a glimmer of a smile, “my house is near the sea, and the sunsets take your breath away. I will show you one day”.
That day has not arrived, and for now, Mohammad has to wait alongside thousands of others, for a certain madness to end. He dreams the dream of many, and hopes the hope of a multitude. He longs for freedoms and peace yet un-tasted in Aceh; he longs to go home.
Does she find it difficult, being young and female, needing to push the system to care for the needs of the refugees? She made this observation:
My parents tell me that I was a fighter even in school. They tell me that I argued with the (scary and grumpy) bus driver when he scolded us for being late; that I was feisty with unfair schoolteachers, and concerned about the treatment of weaker children. My favourite story at bedtime was David and Goliath. Particular verses would ‘jump out’ at me when we read the Bible, such as Jesus telling us to be kind to others (Matthew 25:35-40).
In another piece, she wrote:
I went for the BERSIH march yesterday – it was quite an experience! It was like watching an American action film in 3D and with surround sound, except that I was ‘on the set’ and part of the unfolding drama. Helicopters thudded overheard, scores of policemen lined the streets, and imposing red trucks with FRU personnel rolled into the scene.
My friends and I arrived at Masjid Jamek LRT station at about 1pm. We came early in case the LRTs got jammed or shut down. There were many people inside the mosque across the river. Outside, on the streets, many more were ‘loitering’ in small groups (It is hard to do anything more productive than hanging about when one is two hours early for a protest).
I was somewhat nervous, this being my first mass rally (I know, I know, but I was out of the country during reformasi… and quite depoliticized then). My friends and I were armed with umbrellas and bottles of water. I had a copy of SUARAM’s information note SUARAM Penangkapan Polis dan Anda (or, what to do if you get arrested), and Bantuan Kepada Rakan (helping your friend), which I later studied closely in case a ‘real life’ exam took place.
And this important reminder to herself:
Use words, Alice, not violence: I tell myself.
It seems this is a lady with some gumption.
So, how does her faith affect her work? Well she has much to say in this revealing article she posted on her blog entitled “Christ in my activism”:
Does Christ make a difference in my activism? The simple answer is yes.
Christ helps me to develop ‘good activism’ and stay away from ‘unhealthy activism’.
Good activism is based on compassion for others – we act on their behalf because we truly and deeply care for them. We don’t do it because it gives us a sense of self-righteousness, or because it makes us morally superior (in particular to government officials and law enforcement agencies!). We don’t do it because it gives us a sense of self-worth to champion the cause of others, because we need to legitimize our consumption of food, air and space.
Good activism is based on a passion for justice for others, not just for ourselves. It isn’t based on the thinking that “this could happen to me and therefore I should act on it”; it is based on the belief that all people are equally and inherently valuable, no matter what our ‘race’, religion, ethnicity, gender, immigration status, or political beliefs. I may never have direct benefit from my activism, but it is worth it if means that others are treated with dignity and respect.
Good activism is based on faith that perseveres and hope that renews; it is not based on bitterness or cynicism. It triumphs over defeat and apathy. When all around us looks impossible, when our shouts for justice fall on deaf ears, when we bruise ourselves on thick walls of stubbornness, or anticipate hard blows (or even police arrest), we find strength to continue.
Does Christ make a difference in my activism? A resounding yes.
It is the revelation of His love for me that teaches me how to love others truly. I see their value through His eyes; I would not have this knowledge on my own. Depending on Him keeps me generous; it helps me to conquer jealousy and covetousness. He has all I need – all the resources, opportunities, and favour – I need not seek these for myself.
It is reliance on Him that gives me the strength to persevere. I am small and faint-hearted on my own, afraid of shadows in the dark. I would have given up a long time ago if I depended only on what my human eyes can see. I trust Him to work out the impossible.
It is trust in His protection that keeps me going, for activism requires courage. The most frequent command in the Bible is “do not be afraid”. God said this to many through whom He worked – Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Mary, Paul – those who He used to fight impossible battles.
I also believe in His supernatural ability to protect migrant workers and refugees when human systems make them exposed and vulnerable – this keeps me on my knees in prayer.
With Christ in the centre of my activism I cannot hide anything, for even the secrets of my heart lie exposed to the One who knows everything. I can pretend to be someone else – someone great and holy through all the things I do or say or claim to be, but He knows my true self – all my weaknesses and character flaws. How humbling, but how liberating!
With Christ in the centre of my activism, my overwhelming burdens are released into His care. My concerns are not mine alone. It is not my fight which I ask Him to bless; it is His work that I am privileged to do. I am just one person in an overall, grander design. The end goals are His; the successes are His. Together, with many others, we bring into being the will of the Father.
Best of all, having Christ in the centre of my activism gives me joy and light-heartedness when I undertake serious, painful work. There are days when I am very troubled by the testimonies I hear – of rape, exploitation, violence in detention, trafficking and physical abuse. I get angry, frustrated, and upset. There are days when I am so exhausted that I feel lost, anxious, and desperate – it takes so much effort to achieve so little that I wonder if it is worth it at all. On those days, I can come to Christ, who is always available, always tender, and surrender all these cares to Him.
I may be completely wrong; after all, I have not met the lady. But it seems to me that we have here someone who is not particular remarkable, or have achieved some outstanding accomplishment. I mean, she's probably someone pretty ordinary in many respects. You could be living next door to Alice, you know what I mean? Yet, here she is, doing her best to make a difference in the lives of many people. And I wonder, what makes the difference? Another piece she wrote gave me some food for thought:
The grace of God is summed up in this: He can use someone who can’t figure out how to enable the scan and fax functions on her HP Officejet Pro L7580.
I firmly believe that we are called by God. I am convinced that He has a destiny for each of us. But most of us are not aware of what His call is on our lives. We are lost, broken; wrapped up in our insecurities and sufferings. We agree with those who say “I cannot”, “it cannot be”, “leave me alone”. We lash out at those He brings to comfort and guide us in our times of need. We run away when He calls - afraid to hear the truth that can set us free. We prefer safe distance from an awesome God who has the power to purify.
We say: how can you use me? There is so much I don’t know. I have nothing to give. Others are more worthy; others are more gifted. Look at the little that is in my hands. I have nothing to offer you. I can’t even scan and fax from my own machine. Arrgh!
If we stopped to listen, we would hear You say… I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have drawn you with my loving kindness. I am the God of sufficiency. Look not at yourself, or at the overwhelming needs around you. I am greater… more… more than you can even imagine. What I ask of you is Surrender; Obedience; Reliance on me. For only then, can I work through you. I do not ask you to work alone - you are my partner in an overall design. I will connect you to others at the right time, in the right place. I will make your paths firm, and prepare the way for you. But follow me.
Come to me, with what you have. I will wash, clean, and purify you. I will set you free. I will break the bread and the fish you give to me. I will multiply it to feed others who are desperate and hungry. You will be amazed. But don’t become enamored by the fruit of your hands, which I bless. Keep your eyes steadily on me; always on me. For the better part is always communion with me; lasting joy is not found in a sense of accomplishment. I am your source of strength, joy, laughter and life abundant.
We are jars of clay, Lord. Accept us as we are, for we can come no other way. Thank you for your mercy and grace. Thank you for your patience and faithfulness. Cleanse us, Lord, and lead us in the way everlasting.
You may find other interesting fragments of Alice on her blog: http://alicenah.wordpress.com/
TK Tan is just an ordinary guy who puts his years of familiarity with computers and the internet to productive use.
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