SAMPLE ESSAYS... 1. GRANDPA I don't have a lot of fantastic memories of childhood.

There were no spectacular family adventures, no unique family projects that taught some sort of moral lesson, no out-of-theordinary holidays. We ate family meals together, but most of the time the children and adults lived in different worlds. The kids went to school, did homework, and played; the adults worked. I was lucky, though. When I wanted a little of both worlds, I could always turn to Grandpa. I remember vividly the weekends at his house. Sitting on his lap, going to wrestling matches, walking down the street or through a park--these were things I did with Grandpa. I wasn't just a kid to him: I was his granddaughter, and I was special. He was special too. Thomas D. Williford was a giant of a man. He stood six feet two inches and weighed over 250 pounds. He moved with purpose and carried himself with respect. Tom was a proud man, a good man, and all who knew him said so. Even if you didn't know him, you would notice his inner strength, his patience, his self-esteem. Grandpa wasn't a scholar. In fact, he didn't even make it through grade school. He was born at the turn of the century, and educating black men wasn't a necessity then. He went to work when he was sixteen, and for the next forty years he worked in a coal factory. Then he worked in a steel mill for another twenty years. He stopped working only because the steel mill closed and he was too old to find another job. When I was with Grandpa, I could be a child and yet see things through grown-up eyes. "You see that tree, Cookie," he would say. "That tree was here before those houses. God put that tree there; man put the houses. Which is more beautiful?" If I climbed a tree, he didn't say, "Get down." He said, "Climb it right so you won't fall." "You appreciate what you work for," he used to say. He taught that lesson well. He never let me win any game; he taught me to win by learning to lose. If he couldn't answer a question, he was honest about it, but he would also say, "Why don't you find out and let me know too." He listened to me and he heard my feelings, not just my words. There was a tougher side to Grandpa, and I suppose this, too, made him special. There was the black man who fled with his near-white wife and children from North Carolina to avoid harassment and threats from the Ku Klux Klan. There was the quiet man whose home was robbed three times by the same drunk, who reported it three times to the police with no results, and who finally waited for the man to do it a fourth time--and shot him dead as he climbed through the bedroom window in the middle of the night. And there was the man who fractured his leg at work, never reported it because he couldn't afford not to work, and years later still endures the pain of the ill-mended fracture. Grandpa is almost ninety-five and now resides in a nursing home in Windsor, North Carolina. The leg he fractured forty years ago is too weak to carry his weight. His eyes are going bad. But to me he's still the big, strong man who used to take his grandchild in his arms and rock her, the man who taught a small child to see all the things around her with open

eyes, the man who taught a child to try until she wins and becomes the best. He's still special and, thanks to him, so am I.

2. NARRATIVE As I pulled into my parents' driveway, I realized how loud the radio was. I turned it down, peeled my legs off the blue vinyl seat, and lugged my pile of laundry up to the front door. The doorknob wouldn't turn and I still hadn't gotten around to making myself a duplicate key.

I rang the bell and waited. Nothing. Leaving my basket of dirty clothes on the steps, I tramped through the bushes in front of the living room window. Pep was across the room sitting in his usual chair and reading the paper. He was a familiar sight in his plaid flannel shirt, striped clip-on bow tie, and tweed cabby hat. I knocked on the window. He turned around, startled, and focused his eyes on me. I smiled and waved at him, but he just stared at me. I gestured toward the front door. His face had that hollow look, but something made him get up and let me in. "Hi, Pep." I kissed him on the cheek. He made way for me and my laundry. "Hello, how are you?" I headed for the washing machine. Pep trailed closely behind. "Kevin and Clare aren't home, but they should be here soon. Do you want to wait for them?" "Yah, I'll be here." I began separating whites from darks. "Do you want anything to eat? There's meat and bread in the ice box and some cookies in there." "No thanks." "I don't know where Kevin and Clare are. They took Katie out somewhere. Do you know Katie?" I paused. Here we go. This was going to be one of those conversations. I should just say, "Why, yes, I know Katie." But perhaps if I venture a bit further, something might jog his memory and we wouldn't have to go through the whole

routine. Dad says that Pep has a tape recorder in his brain, and bits and pieces keep getting erased. I decided to give it a shot. "Pep, Katie is my sister." It didn't work. Pep responded as though I hadn't said a word. "Yah. Well, they went down to . . ." He doubled his chin and scratched his chest with both hands. "You know, down . . ." "To the Donnellys'?" "Yah, that's it. What did you say?" I repeated, "Donnellys'," loud and clear. It was usually best to speak with as few words as possible. The name Donnelly had a vague significance in Pep's mind, but he had no idea that the Donnellys were my mother's sister and her family. "Yes, that's right, they went to the Donnellys'. How did you know? What did you say your name was?" "Michelle." He smiled politely. "Oh, are you a friend of Clare's?" "Pep! I'm her daughter." "Yah, well, I just want to tell Kevin and Clare who was here in case you leave before they get back." "I'm home for the weekend. I'm not going anywhere." "Okay," he said, with an offended tone that left me feeling guilty. He turned around and headed for his chair. He truly did not know who I was. He had let a perfect stranger into our house to wash clothes. When I was a child, Pep would spend hours with me, patiently teaching me all fifty states and their capitals. When I had those down, we moved on to state flowers, birds, and slogans. He would read me his poetry and tell me neverending bedtime stories about giants and fairies and magical castles. We would sit in front of the Christmas tree and try to guess which ornament the other was thinking of. On this day, though, I had more important things on my mind. Whites. Darks. Delicates. Pep returned a few minutes later with a pen and his notebook.

"Here, write down your name so I can tell Kevin and Clare you were here." The prospect scared me. I was hoping he would realize who I was after a while and forget that he had forgotten me. But this was putting everything on the line. What if he saw my name and still couldn't recognize me? As he eagerly offered me the pen and paper, I couldn't say no. I wrote M-i-c-h-e-l-l-e in his notebook and gave it back to him. He looked at it for a few seconds and then wrinkled his eyebrows and bit his lip. He looked at me with a hint of disbelief. "Michelle." He said it with the expression of a disappointed but amused parent. The name seemed to hang in space. I imagined what would come next. He might say, "You're not Michelle" or "Who in the world is Michelle?" But he said, "All this time you were Michelle?" "Yes." That giant lump shot into my throat and tears crept into my eyes. "Well, thank God for you." I smiled. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away, shaking his head and chuckling. I was relieved. I did still exist in his mind, on his tape. But I was only a part-time visitor now, and I couldn't help wondering how long it would be before I was permanently erased.

3. Task: Write about an occasion when you discovered you could do something you had been afraid of doing before. Liz, its your turn. Ms Aida announced. Gosh! It was a terrifyingly dreadful moment for me. Reluctantly, I stood in front of the class trying to tell them a story that I had been memorising for the last two weeks. As I was about to start, I choked uncontrollably. Ms Aida told me to sit down and rebuked the class for laughing at me. Despite that, Ms Aida was disappointed in me. I hated having to give presentations in front of a crowd. I was by nature timid, introverted and a withdrawn person. Suffice to say, I do not have any friends. No one wanted to be in the same team with me. My ordeal started again when Ms Aida gave us a group assignment. We were supposed to do a presentation about Food. As soon as I heard it, I felt disheartened yet none of my group members seemed to be worried about it. My team leader, Salbiah allocated the tasks to us. I was happy to be in charge of preparing the powerpoint slides. Preaparing powerpoint slides was easy to me; a piece of pie. My team members admired my powerpoint. I was glad to be accepted by this group. The day of the presentation brought in many unexpected problems. Salbiah was down with measles and could not come to school. Both Farizan and Kiah had to be at their stations. Farizan had to set up the powerpoint and Kiah had to distribute the handouts. All of a sudden,

I was the only one available to take over Salbiahs place. I had no intention of embarrassing myself again but after being persuaded and encouraged by my team members I accepted with mixed feelings. I trudged in front and looked around the class. Everybody was sniggering at me. My heart missed a beat as the powerpoint slide was projected. Farizan and Kiah winked at me and gave me the thumbs-up sign. I was gaining confidence and started to speak with much clarity and fluency. I was too nervous to recall exactly what happened at that time. After my presentation, all my classmates clapped and I was elated. I couldnt believe that I had actually did it. After that day, I was a changed person. Friends surround me all the time. I have become a more confident person. Today I look forward to do presentations. My life motto reads: Nothing is impossible. 4. The Warning It was the same bus I got onto every morning, but today, when I got into the bus, I sensed something was unusual. All of a sudden, my right hand felt cold. Immediately, I turned around and holding tightly to me was a sorrowful-looking old woman. She whispered, Dont go! A loud crash could be heard from behind. It was a terrifying car accident. The passengers, who got down earlier, innocently, walked into the accident scene. Looking for further guidance, I realised that she was no longer there. It was a narrow escape. (a close shave) Sweating, I realised it was the same dream for the past few months. Mondays were never my favourite days. Samad, my colleague had his car sent to the workshop and he had decided to ride with me. That day, I felt very uneasy and kept on thinking about the dream. Nevertheless, it was like any ordinary day and my fears slowly faded away. Samad showed me his family photo and I was shocked to see his grandmother, Puan Asyalia. It was the same old woman in my dream. He told me that she had died when he was only 3 years old. Speechless, I nodded away sadly yet worried. Before I could tell him about my dream, the bus finally stopped in front of our office. Due to the traffic jam, we were 30 minutes late. Impatiently, Samad rushed down quickly. A nagging thought flashed to my mind as I shouted, Samad! Wait! Dont go! It all happened in a wink of an eye. Samad was lying on the street bleeding profusely from his head. Alarmed and panicking, I rushed towards him. He was unconscious and many people gathered around us. Among them, I thought I saw Puan Asyalia staring at me. I could hardly believe my eyes. I tried to warn you With tears in her eyes, she disappeared. Within 5 minutes, the ambulance came and they took Samad away on a stretcher. Unfortunately, he died before they could take him to the nearest hospital. I could not control my tears. That day was very memorable to me. Maybe to some people this seems like a dream; to others, it is just a naughty joke. However to me, I do believe that dreams do come true.

5. The Unusual Experience It was the same bus I got onto every morning, but today, I fell asleep in the bus. When I woke up, I sensed something was unusual. The bus took me to a strange place that I had not seen before. Before I managed to ask the bus driver, it vanished. Wandering around aimlessly looking for anybody, the place seemed weird. Some crows were flying above me. There was an old building on the waste land. When I reached the building, a girl tapped me from behind. Liz was wearing a school uniform. She looked very beautiful as she gestured me towards the building. When I got into the building, there were many people. They were wearing the same uniform as Liz. I realised that it was a school. The students were going to their classes. Being a new student, Liz brought me to see the principal. I followed her without saying any word. In the spacious principals office, I was welcomed by En. Juhair. He told Liz to bring me to Class A. It was overcrowded. We took our seats at the back row. Everybody stood up and said Sam! Welcome to Monster School! I was so shocked to hear that. I could hardly believe my ears and eyes. All of a sudden, the students and teachers looked like monsters. Looking closer at Ms. Munirah, I noticed she wore a tail. I had an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. I turned to face pretty Liz and felt relieved that she was still the same, she was just smiling. The very thought of this bizzare place made me feel like running away. Nevertheless, I kept the thought to myself. When the school bell rang, I planned my escape route. I couldnt leave LIz behind and decided to invite her along. She happily agreed to my infamous plan because she knew that the monsters would kill me for being a human. We rushed out of school quickly. I showed her the bus station where I got down in this morning. Apparently we had been spotted by the monsters. They were trying to catch us. As we were beginning to feel helpless, fortunately the bus came into the station. Both Liz and I boarded the bus. It was going at a maddening speed. Feeling exhausted, I dozed to sleep . When I got up, I was surprised to see a vacant seat next to me. Did you see the girl next to me? Which girl? You were alone. The bus driver looked at me with cynical eyes and shook his head unbelievingly. It was 2.30 pm when the bus stopped in front of my house. I still could not understand what had happened to me until now. Maybe to some people this seems like a joke; to others, it is just a fantasy. However, to me, this has been a very shockingly unexplainable experience in my life.

6. The Library Preparing for my SPM exam, I stayed late in the library for the first time. Unexpectedly, while getting a book out from the shelf, across the gap I saw a pretty face. We had a quick glimpse of each other. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly left the place but I could not forget her beautiful face. Back at my place, I tried to concentrate in my work. Tired, I fell asleep. Shocked with her sudden presence next to me, I gasped meekly and acknowledged her. Unable to overcome my timidity, I decided to leave. Nevertheless, I kept thinking of her. The next day I was all dressed up to go to the library. I hoped to bump into her again. As I was about to enter the library, someone tapped me from behind. Taken aback by surprise, I slipped and fell. In a daze, someone helped me up. Are you alright? Yes I stammered. I was speechless to see her and she gestured me into the library. We introduced ourselves and located a cozy place to study. With Jane next to me, concentration was difficult. Looking at her I could not help feeling so in love. Running in luck, she seemed to feel the same way too. For months, we continued to enjoy our time together and could not bear to be separated. I remembered that fateful day when I bravely took a detour to get her a bouquet of red roses. Smiling contentedly, I felt ready to ask her to be my girlfriend. As usual, I waited patiently for her at the entrance of the library. However, Salbiah did not turn up. I got worried and started calling her. Despite all attempts to contact her, she was nowhere to be found. For weeks she did not come to the library. Waiting in faith, I continued to go to the library hoping to see her again. As if answering my prayers, I received an anonymous letter one month later. In it, there was a map with a note: Go to the place marked X on the map. Hastily, I rushed to the location. Digging at the spot, I found a wooden box. Immediately I opened it. There was a scroll in it. It was a letter from Salbiah. She explained in detail her incurable disease and thanked me for making the last few months of her life the most meaningful ones. She claimed that she would love me forever and apologised for not being able to say goodbye to me personally. Realising that, she had already passed away, my tears refused to stop flowing for a long time. Memories of her will remain forever in my mind. To some people this may seem like a pitiful love story; to others, it is just plain romantic. However, to me, this has been a very touching and unforgettable experience in my life.

7. The Unexpected Stranger It was the same room I slept in for the past two weeks, but last Monday as I got into the room, I sensed something was different (weird, unusual, queer). I thought I saw a shadow following me. Feeling nervous, I decided to call Sam. Surely you are joking. I am serious! I feel like someone is staring at me. Dont worry, dear. I will be back before the party starts. With relief, I continued to prepare for my birthday party. I took my shower and got dressed but still I felt someone was watching me. However, I did not worry about it. Sam came home at 7 pm, I felt relieved upon seeing him. At exactly 8 pm, all the guests arrived. During the party, Sam unexpectedly made a surprise announcement. He proposed to me and I accepted happily. Everybody congratulated me. The party turned out to be really fun. After three hours of fun, all the guests went home and both Sam and I were very happy to be left alone. We intended to celebrate our surprise engagement. As we were drinking, all of sudden, the lights went out. Sam went to check what went wrong as I relaxed on the couch. From the distance I could vaguely see a shadow coming towards me. Thinking it was Sam, I motioned it to sit next to me. Shockingly, the shadow rushed towards me and chocked me. I screamed as loudly as I can. Unfortunately, I could barely be heard. The lights suddenly came back. I was relieved to feel free again. I saw the masked man chocking as Sam grabbed him from behind. Furiously, I went over and unmasked the stranger. To my surprise, it was my ex-boyfriend, Azmeer. He tried to plead me to be his girlfriend again but refused. He claimed that we were still in love. Meer, I dont love you anymore, please leave me alone! You heard her right, now leave before we call the police and dont even think of coming back. Azmeer left feeling ashamed as I hugged Sam tightly. To some people this seems unforgivable; to others, it is just a trivial matter. However, for me, this has been a very shockingly enriching experience in my life. Indeed, love is not as easy as it seems for people do get hurt in the process.

8. Write an essay ending with with tears in her eyes, she hugged me tightly. It was the wettest December I had ever experienced. The torrential rains had ruined my holiday plans as floods continued to wreak havoc in several states. I had pleaded with dad to allow me to go to the east coast with my friends but he had been unyielding. The thought of having to stay indoors for the next two weeks was not only depressing but also unbearable. Television did not excite me anymore. I was fed up of watching the same old movies on cable television. Even the other channels had nothing exciting to offer. Finally, I decided to go into the attic to retrieve some books which I had not read for a long time. The attic was surprisingly clean a sign that mum had finally completed the chore that she had kept putting off. I looked around and noticed a teak chest that I had never seen before. Curiosity got the better of me and I walked towards it. I lifted the lid slowly and was pleasantly surprised to see a variety of things in it all of them reminders of my childhood. I looked nostalgically at the clothes I had worn as a child and the toys I had played with. Bobo the teddy bear, which I had slept with until I was ten, had been dry-cleaned and kept in a box which also contained the first Mothers Day card I had made myself. I was not prepared for what I saw next. Lying at the bottom of the cardboard box was an old black and white photograph of a young woman. I stared at it incredulously. It was as if I was looking at a female version of myself. All sorts of questions and dreadful thoughts flooded my mind. I held the photograph tightly in my hand and dashed out of the attic, only to bump into my mother. Mum.who is this? I asked in a quivering voice. From the look on her face, I knew it was a question she did not want to answer. Quietly, she held my hand and led me towards the study where dad had been working all morning. She knocked on the door once before opening it. Dad looked up, and his expression of annoyance disappeared when he saw the photograph in my hand. What I heard that day is something I will never forget for the rest of my life. The woman in the photograph was my mother, my biological mother Lily Lee. Son, Lily loved you very much; just as much as Janet here loves you. Dads use of the past tense made me uncomfortable. It took a great deal of effort on his part to narrate the painful past. My biological mother was six months pregnant when the incident happened. She had been walking towards her office when a motorcyclist came from behind and grabbed her handbag before speeding off. As a result of the sudden assault, she had lost her balance and fallen on the kerb. The head injuries she had sustained had a devastating effect on her health. The only option was to perform surgery, but due to her condition, this option was risky. The doctors had wanted to terminate her pregnancy to save her life but she had refused. A month later she fell into a coma. Although the doctors had given up hope, Lily continued to live, though in a comatose state. It was as if she was not giving up on life till her baby was born. When the

doctors deemed it safe, they performed an emergency C-section. Lily breathed her last the moment I was born into this world. Dad sobbed softly as he finished relating the heart-wrenching story. All sorts of emotions consumed me. I was sad, confused and angry. Was I adopted? What about my father? Who was he? Had he abandoned me? After a while, I braved myself and stated what I thought was obvious. So, that means you are not my real parents. I am adopted! No, son. You are not adopted. I am your father. Lily was my first wife. She made me promise her that I would marry her younger sister, Janet, so that you would not grow up motherless. The sense of relief that I felt at that moment was indescribable. I looked at mum and I saw the pain and anguish in her eyes, as though she was anticipating rejection. Quickly, she looked down. Slowly, I got up from my chair and walked towards her. I went down on my knees and held her hands in mine. Her eyes remained downcast, fearful of rejection. Mum, I know I am only seventeen but I am more mature than you think. You might not have given birth to me but you are and will always be my mother. I comforted her as much as I comforted myself. She looked up slowly, her eyes searching my face for sincerity. Then with tears in her eyes, she hugged me tightly.

9. THE RIVERS

When the word river is mentioned the image that comes into my mind is one big drain or longkang with "The Tarik" coloured water flowing in it. Try taking the LRT from Wangsa Maju station to city centre in which you pass above the gombak river and then you will get what I mean. Due to the torrential rainfall the government had renovated (if that is even the proper word) or reconstructed the Gombak River into one big concrete drain to avoid overflowing of rainwater thus resulting in a muddy city flood. As for the colour of the water, it is a result of the mud from the bed of the river plus the strong faith of the citizens of Kuala Lumpur who truly believe that everything that is thrown into the river will be magically dissolved. Sort of like the messiah of the Sungai Gombak (Gombak River). Urban Legend has it that the fishes in Sungai Gombak is very large and somewhat healthy thanks to their diet provided by the richness of the river. Nutrients derived from things such as Nasi Kandar, Kentucky Friend Chicken, various Curry dishes and many more in the form of human excrement (i.e dung/shit/crap) supposedly helped in ensuring that fishes in Sungai Gombak are very well fed. The Sungai Gombak begins from the Klang Gate water reservoir and flows through Hulu Kelang and into the heart of Kuala Lumpur. It then will merge with Sungai Kelang (Kelang River), it is there where one of the oldest mosque in Kuala Lumpur is located. It is known as Majid Jamek. Masjid Jamek Kuala Lumpur is built upon the bank in which the two great rivers meet (Kelang and Gombak) and it is supposed to be the heart of

Kuala Lumpur. Jalan P Ramlee on the other hand is known as the soul of Kuala Lumpur while Lorong Haji taib would be the arse hole of Kuala Lumpur. Bukit Bintang and Bukit Tunku on the other hand are the bosoms of Kuala Lumpur while Kl Tower is the...... you know lets not go astray from the topic of this essay into the intimate discussions of Kuala Lumpurs anatomy. Back to rivers, Kuala Lumpur surprisingly has a lot of rivers. Apart from the famous Sungai Kelang and Sungai Gombak it is also the home of several other small rivers like Sungai Pisang (banana) located near Karak Highway, Jeram (Rapids) Kelang Gate , Sungai Pasir and many more. Rivers play an important role in an urban society like Kuala Lumpur. Apart from being an important water source it is also a key factor in the urban ecosystem, in which river is an integral part in molding the human habitat. Rivers can be the place where family can go for a picnic or spend some leisurely time playing around thus forging a better relationship between the family members. History tells us that rivers are the birthplace of great civilizations which create culture, arts and generate the economy. A prime example of the importance of a river in an urban society in Kuala Lumpur would be Sungei Wang (money river). This is a river where apart from just water flowing (the fountain at the entrance) it is also the place where city revelers can have a decent picnic at any of the cafes and restaurants located there. Apart from that it is also the centre of economic activity where hundreds of traders try to sell their products and services. Family can spend time watching movies, playing at the arcade, buying things, picnic and even karaoke right in the middle of the bustling madness of the city. Which is a testament of the magical effect a river can have on an urban society. Like the great rivers of Tigris and Euphrates, Sungei Wang is also the cradle of culture and arts. Sungei Wang is known as the place of arts and culture movements such as the Japanese Wannabe fashion trends where bundles of young artisans congregate at Sungei Wang with their coloured spiky hair, funny platform shoes and garishly coloured shirts that clash with their pants or skirts. These young artisans would then listen to poetic rendition by great poets of their time like Jay Chou, F4 or S.H.E. If Tigris and Euphrates is known for the Hanging Gardens of Babylon Sungei Wang is known for its architectural marvel of having a huge food court at the top, something like a Hanging Foodcourt one would say. From Para-para dancing to the literary work of Sun Comics Sungei Wang is indeed the cradle of culture in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. Indeed rivers plays an important role in the ecosystem. Apart from being the source of water, a place to wash your arse after a dumb or just a venue for you to wash your car, rivers can act as the glue that binds society. It can be the place where family spend time, friends karaoke together or just a place where pimpled teenagers with fashion disorder seek attention from each other. I may come from a metropolis like Kuala Lumpur, but the rivers in Kuala Lumpur have a special bond to my heart and acts as the bind that ties my fat, lazy, capitalistic fast food body to nature.

10. A CHANGE BROUGHT ABOUT BY YOUTHS Let me tell you of my thousand-mile story. This story was not written just so people would weep and then simply forget about it. No, this story is for everyone to reflect on themselves, and open their minds to the fact that the world is not utopian. It is up to us to make it a brighter place, to live life accordingly, through love for others and ourselves. My best friend in the whole wide world, Linda, was HIV-positive. Its as simple as that. Or so it seems. The news came as a shock to me, of course, and for the whole week I refused to meet her for fear of being contaminated. What was worse, I allowed my selfish, ignorant, narrow mind to make negative assumptions on how Linda contracted it sex, drugs, and all that which seemed so wrong to me.I came to my senses when Mum finally pulled my aside and told me exactly how my friend contracted the virus. Linda had had to have a blood transfusion when she was young and at that time, somehow or other the blood was not screened beforehand to check for the virus. I pretended that it did not matter because I wasnt ever going to see her again, but deep down I was feeling remorseful and guilty. I found myself feeling lonely and sad that whole day and I finally decided that I was guilty, and had to go and apologise to Linda. When I went to see her, she was so sweet and forgiving. We sat on the swings and it was me who was overdoing it weeping on her shoulder, asking for her forgiveness over and over again. I marvel at the fact that she did not hate me for kicking sand in her eyes. I gave her a big hug and said, Lin, you are my best friend and I promise I will do anything in my power to help you. From that day, we had a mutual understanding and we gave each other a sense of comfort. I think that my being there gave Linda strength.The first thing I did to fulfill my promise was to increase my awareness and get rid of my ignorance on the topic of HIV and AIDS. I went to the National Library, travelled to the Malaysian AIDS Council and searched online for any information on HIV/AIDS. I remember looking at an article on stigma and discrimination faced by people living with HIV/AIDS and I started crying all over again, recalling my own prejudice towards Linda. One of the staff at the Malaysian AIDS Council noticed me in that state and after I had explained what I was going through between choked sobs, she looked at me in the eye and said, Its normal that we feel different around people with HIV/AIDS. But you must understand that the stigma surrounding this disease can only be eliminated when we are all aware of what it actually is. We have to help these people go through life as normally as possible, we have to be strong for them. I reflected on these words and realised that it is not so much the virus that kills people, but rather the fear and hopelessness. Through my research and reading, I began to understand more and more about HIV and AIDS. However, the more I knew, the more frightened I became. I realised that Lin was not as healthy as she made herself look. I learned that her viral load was 10 000 and her T-cell count, or CD4 was only 300. CD4 cells are an important part of the immune system, and a healthy person averages between 500 1 500 CD4 cells per milliliter of blood. Although Linda didnt have AIDS, these figures meant that her immune system was at alow, where AIDS- related complications could easily develop. I kept Linda company as much as I could, and I tried not to sympathise, but rather empathise with her. I treated her as I had always treated her before I knew of her condition. I reminded her to take her medication consistently, and my fussiness sometimes annoyed her. However,

once in a while we would argue because she made herself feel helpless. I would try to make her see that it was up to her to prove that she was not a victim and realise that there was still so much that she could do. At other times, we would talk and pour our hearts out. Lin confessed that she was terrified and it ached my heart to see her speak of her future as if it would not be there. But, right then I also understood that sometimes, when theres nothing else you can do, talking relieves a lot of the pressure.Sometimes, those who did not understand what she was going through would taunt her. Some people even made it a point to purposely avoid her, or simply refuse to be in the same room as her. It was during these times that I knew she would feel isolated and vulnerable therefore I stood up for her. I tried to make my other friends understand, and finally they did. They saw through the disease and realised that they could not abandon Linda simply because she was sick. With the support of all our friends, we tried to create a happy and caring environment for Linda. I think the most poignant moment during these times were when we visited the Malaysian AIDS Council together. I stood back and watched my best friend engage in contact with other people who were HIV-positive. She also talked to the counsellors and I could see that she would be thinking deeply after those sessions. When I asked, she would reply, Its not right that I think its unfair that I have HIV. Now I think about all those underprivileged people who do not have the chance to talk to counsellors, or have friends, or have the means to purchase medication.After a year, the nightmares began. Linda suffered severe weight loss and began to get endlessly ill. She went in and out of hospitals and I dreaded to hear the truth. One day, her parents called me up to tell me gently that Linda had developed AIDS and was only given 6 months to live. I didnt register it at first, because all this while I was so sure that Linda was going to stay well, even though she had HIV. I didnt know what to say or do during my first few visits to the hospital after knowing that she had developed AIDS. We just looked at each other and I couldnt bear to see the pain in her eyes. Gradually we both accepted the situation. Our acceptance freed ourselves from the fear of what might come, and instilled a new power in Linda.During the next few months, I managed to get a grip on myself. With my other friends, the school counsellors and Student Council, we organised an AIDS charity drive to promote understanding and knowledge of the disease. The proceeds went to Linda, to pay for her medical treatment. Our other friends, and even those who did not know Linda all sent cards wishing her well, and visited her as often as she wanted us to. We would bring her favourite cookies, and wed talk about current events, trends, everything that teenagers should know. We tried not to make her feel that the world was passing by without her, so sometimes wed bring our newly-bought clothes and let her try them out. We sneaked in my Playstation that she loved to play so much, and brought CDs of her favourite singers for her to listen to. As much as we tried, we did not have the power to make the disease go away. Linda soon developed a lung infection called Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia. My friends and I would stay at her bedside, reciting prayers together. When I went home, Id do the Hajat prayers and beg Allah to lessen my friends pain.My best friend Linda returned to Allah the Almighty seven months after she was confirmed as having developed AIDS. I have lost a best friend, but I know that it is the will of God to try us. When I recollect the memories, I see that it has taught me many valuable lessons, the most valuable being that we should treasure our friends, and love them as we love ourselves. I am also now an activist, working hard at eliminating the stigma and discrimination associated with HIV and AIDS. I hope that AIDS awareness is promoted to people, especially young people, around the world so that we can take a firm stand and prevent this epidemic from prolonging.