Typhoon 23: June 1999
Non-Fiction
© Island School, 20 Borrett Road, Hong Kong
Into the Water
Im afraid of the sea now. Had you told me that I would be one day, I would have very likely
laughed it off and laughed at you. I was the water baby, the fish in the water, the natural swimmer
of the family.
Finally, the end of the very last day of school came and everyone was feeling just great. Wouldnt
you if you knew that two whole months of holiday were ahead of you! On the way home I decided
that all I would do for the first couple of weeks was to turn myself into a couch potato. You know
the drill: tons of junk food, gallons of soft drinks and endless hours of TV programmes without
homework deadlines and bedtimes.
But wasnt I in for a surprise! When I got home I was told that we were heading for the beaches of
Hawaii where we would meet with my cousins. I was absolutely thrilled! I had heard all about
Hawaii and its endless, white sand beaches, a paradise for scuba-diving, turtle-tagging,
snorkeling, wave-surfing, windsurfing and water-skiing, to name but a few water activities.
After a long and boring plane trip we reached my water-dreamland - not that I could see much of
it, jet-lagged as I was. The next morning, my cousin and I were allowed to go freely and do as we
pleased after breakfast. We straightaway went to the water sports hut on the beach, booked two
windsurfing boards, slipped the life-jackets on and headed for the sea. I was having the time of my
life. Everything was just perfect, from the wind force to the water temperature - until I heard my
cousin scream. She was heading towards reefs and just did not seem to be able to turn away. I
immediately decided to go over and try to help her but in my rush I stumbled, slipped and fell off.
Somehow I could not manage to climb back up onto the board, no matter how hard I was trying.
The waves were pushing me towards the reef. It was hopeless. Within seconds, I was thrown
among the reefs and forced to let go of my board.
Over and over, I tried to swim away but vicious under-currents kept pulling me back and throwing
me onto the reefs. The experience was terrifying. I was becoming exhausted. My whole body was
painful and my years of swimming training seemed totally wasted.
Meanwhile, my cousin had managed to reach the shore and alert the lifeguards. Just as I realised
that I would not be able to struggle much longer, I felt myself being pulled up to the safety of a
speedboat.
I woke up some hours later to a very sore body. Except for the parts protected by my lifejacket,
which I had been wearing, I was covered from head to toe with cuts, scratches, bruises and
bumps. In the end, I did turn into a couch potato that summer!
Sebastian Stones
Sydney
If youre looking for a fortnight of entertainment overseas, I think you should go to Sydney.
Located near the south-eastern coast of Australia, Sydney is a tourists dream.
Sydney is just about the most scenic place in the world. Anywhere in Sydney, urban or rural, is
filled with culture of all sorts. As I must stress again, Sydney is full of beauty.
Darling Harbour is about the best place to start with. In the sparkling sapphire sea lie tiny, white
yachts, gently swaying in the mild breeze. You may be surrounded by the noise of clowns,
jugglers, etc., but the sight of the harbour is very tranquil and serene.
This changes during a day in July or August. On that particular day the annual Sydney - Darwin
Boat Race will be held. Hundreds of boats, big and small, rusty and spotless, seaworthy and not
quite so, will gather under the magnificent Sydney Harbour Bridge. This is an ideal time to visit
Darling Harbour.
Thirty minutes away is the Lane Cove National Park. There, you can row a boat down a calm
stream, watching a giant ferry sail past you with tourists on board waving and shouting Hello! as
you go by. You can, of course, board the ferry. Both means of transport will enable you to admire
the horses running in the fields. You may get a chance to feed a wallaby or an emu towards the
end, too. There are also native trees surrounding the whole park.
There are also ducks in the stream, which you can have the pleasure of feeding; or you may
chase them away. There are swings and slides for the kids, and there is also a field of horses,
open to the public. You can have a picnic there or ride the tame horses.
One and a half hours away from the centre of Sydney are the Blue Mountains. From there, you
can walk down into a rainforest and see the birds and insects. You can see the flourishing plants
envelop you as you walk deeper into the forest, with only the occasional streak of sunlight. Then,
walk precariously along the edge of a cliff to the mountain top, where you can see the rainforest,
the cliff, and all the other mountains. On a clear day, you can even see Sydney!
Near that are the Jenolan Caves. A dark, seemingly spooky place, it is a very beautiful, charming
area. There are countless stalagmites and stalactites sprouting from the ground and hanging from
the ceiling. The rocks seem to take on a rainbow colour and looks splendid indeed. There is also a
pool of water in the cave, and this bubbles ferociously.
Ninety minutes to the north lies Old Sydney Town. This is a famous tourist attraction which even
locals like to go to. Old Sydney Town is a theme park based on what Sydney looked like during
the 1800s. There, you can see real cannons being fired, a real guillotine, people being whipped
and native animals, such as the kangaroo, the koala, the emu, the wallaby, etc.
Nearby is the Entrance. Why this is called the Entrance I dont have a clue, but I remember the
name very well. This is probably because the Entrance is a lovely place. There are countless
pelicans roaming freely around the streets, which you can feed with salmon from one of the many
fishmongers. There are also many cultural activities which take place there, and the whole place is
generally happy and bright.
Shopping is another feature of Sydney. There are plenty of shops and malls around, but by far the
biggest is the Westfield shopping complex in Parramatta. In fact, it is the largest in the Southern
Hemisphere.
The complex is big enough for you to shop for ten days and never get bored - at least. There are
all sorts of books, food, clothing and other bits and pieces sold there.
In the centre of Sydney is the Queen Victoria Building. An old, grand building, it houses over 100
shops and a food court. I recommend you to take the lift. The lift is an old one, but very well kept. I
think you should go there in the morning. After that it gets very noisy.
Near the QVB is Paddys Market. Open two days a week (according to the season), it is a market
full of cheap bargains. It is badly illuminated but still, it is a place worth visiting.
The Rocks is a place where James Cook first landed. It is a good shopping area, and is filled with
culture. A wax museum is there too, and the scenery is splendid.
In Darling Harbour many cultural activities take place. Segaworld is also there. In Segaworld there
are many rides and games. The decorations are splendid and a fake guillotine is placed in there.
There is the Sydney Harbour Casino near Pyrmont Bay, Darling Harbour. I do not know the
details, but it seems as if the food there is excellent, especially the buffet.
Speaking of food, the best place for the family to dine is on top of Sydney, at the top of Sydney
Tower. The tower spins at the top, and you can literally see the whole of Sydney on a clear day, at
sunset.
Another place for the family to go is the Coca Cola Museum in Circular Quay. There, you can taste
all types of Fanta, Sprite or Coke ever invented. My favourite is the Bubble Gum Fanta. After
tasting, you can see the history of Coca Cola, and at the end there is a small souvenir shop.
The whole family can enjoy a day at Sydney Wonderland. There are many rides. There are games
and a mini-zoo, where you can ride a camel, an elephant or a pony.
If, by chance, it rains, then you could go to the Sydney Entertainment Centre or the Opera House
to watch a performance or an opera. There are constantly Disney shows and circuses too.
On a rainy day you could visit the Powerhouse Museum, which is near Chinatown, and is very
much like the Hong Kong Science Museum and the Space Museum. Near that is the Sydney
Observatory, which is a place full of fun activities and games, all free. My advice is to go there on
a sunny day.
On a sunny day you could also go to Bondi Beach. Not really a shoppers heaven or a beach
lovers palace, but still worth going to. The surf is great and, guess what? NO SHARKS!
Manly Beach is more of a real beach. There arent too many people, probably since you need to
take a ship there. There is the Manly Aquarium, and the Aquarium is filled with all sorts of rare and
unusual fish.
An animal lover would love Taronga Zoo. A short boat ride away from Circular Quay, the place is
full of unusual animals and native Australian animals. You might even get a chance to hug them!
A fortnight will probably be enough to glance at Sydneys attractions. Sydney is simply so
wonderful to visit. Sydney is simply magnificent.
Loren Lam (Year 7 Non-fiction: Winner)
Dont Blame the Trenchcoats
Dont blame the guns. Dont blame the trench coats. Blame the children, the victims, the
mainstream. Blame
teachers, parents, and principals. Blame society.
The recent tragedy in Colorado seems to be a simple case in which two crazed kids opened fire
on their classmates, who are now being held as heroes and martyrs. All blame was immediately
put upon the gunmen, and the whole case was deemed a mystery, with no motive or cause. But
there was a motive. There was a reason for 17 year old Klebold and 18 year old Harris to go on
their murderous rampage, and that reason was that they were outcasts, and were tormented daily
by their peers.
I would first like to make clear that in no way do I approve of killing people, no matter what reason
there is. There is never any excuse to take the life of another human being. This I will never agree
with. I think that what happened on the 20th of April was disgusting, and I hope that nothing of the
sort ever arises again. It will happen again, though, for the simple reason that as a society we do
not learn from out mistakes. We feel pain at tragic events, and then forget without putting in place
any measures to prevent another catastrophe and further suffering.
Children are nasty, mean, and cold people. They will tease and harass anyone who happens to
live slightly differently, or a person who strives to hold onto their individuality. Schools are suited to
shallow, good looking people who think solely about clothes, the results of the recent football
game, and members of the opposite sex. To be accepted as popular one must adapt the group
mind that is possessed by the in group. One must think as the group thinks, say what the group
says, and act as the group acts. In other words, one must forfeit all individualism and alternative
thought. There are a few children, however, who see more in life. They decide to rebel against the
mainstream, and for this they are often abused and tormented.
Harris and Klebold decided to rebel, as did the other members of the Trench Coat Mafia. Not all of
their members were Hitler-loving black-hating racists. There were some who just wanted to be
different, and be individuals. All were discriminated against, though, and because of this, Harris
and Klebold wrongly decided to slaughter as many of their enemies as possible to punish them.
Instead of conforming to the pathetic mold of the popularity, which is favoured by teachers and
peers, and is shallow and meaningless, they decided to kill. To them, it was more important to kill
than give in to the pressures of the people they hated. And thats what they did.
The shooting was not a crime with no motive, and Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold cannot be the
only ones held accountable for the deaths of the 13 people shot. The cruel children at their school
can be blamed for pushing them to it. Their teachers, parents, deans and principals can be
blamed for not noticing telltale signs of a problem. Again, the teachers and principals can be
blamed a great deal for not bringing to order the harsh children who drove the boys to their final
act. Suffering was not only experienced by the victims of the shooting and their friends and
relatives, but was also felt for many years as a result of constant bullying by Eric Harris and Dylan
Klebold. The victims were not innocent. Over the years, many of them may have pushed the
gunmen to the shooting.
In much of society, objects that are reminders of the tragedy have been banned. People have been refused entry to schools for the simple act of wearing a trench coat, even where they may
have been wearing one for years. Gothic teens, often highly intelligent and sensitive, have been
looked down upon since the shooting, and have been subjected to random abuse from strangers
and peers. This shows societys stupidity in not learning from their previous mistakes of pushing
outcasts to perform desperate acts with fatal consequences. Many people have been suspended
and forced to attend counselling sessions after expressing their understanding of why Harris and
Klebold shot their classmates, similar to what I am doing as I write this. Schools are refusing the
rights of their students free thought and speech, comparable to the thought control and
restrictions in George Orwells 1984. They are being discouraged from thinking as individuals and
encouraged to conform to the model set down by the popular groups of the school. Individualism
is slowly, bit by bit, being made unlawful in schools. Even in our school, although not related to the
recent happenings in Colorado, students are made to dye their bleached or dyed hair back to
normal, and wear clothes that are considered closer to what is acceptable by society.
Banning trench coats and all other forms of individuality, including free thought and speech, is not
the answer to preventing any further school shootings. The answer is in teaching all students to be
individuals, and not to stick by the rigid cast set down by popularity. If everyone has a small
amount of individuality, then gradually society will learn to accept others as they are. Toleration,
acceptance, and compassion.
Sam Graham (Year 10 Non-fiction: Winner)
Our Saviour
She is a godsend. She is womanhood personified. She has been a teacher, a mother, a sister and
a role model for girls across the world. She is the embodiment of grace, beauty and intelligence.
She is a dynamic and independent woman. She transcends borders, traditions and time. She sets
the standard for racial harmony. She is Barbie.
The one woman who has been able to educate our young about equality, hard work and health is
made of plastic. In these trying times of death and desecration to whom do young girls look for
their moral and ideological upbringing? For centuries women have been trying to find their place in
society. Today women know their place and understand their duties and roles in our society. It is
not because of the suffragettes or any other womens movements. It is because of Barbie. Barbie
has created an image for women to aspire to and a lifestyle to emulate. Shes hip, shes hot, shes
eternally young and she has a great time.
Barbie has a job, she has friends, she has pool-parties and she even makes her own ice cream. If
every woman could do that, the world would be a better place. Barbie reminds women that they
are living in the nearly 21st Century. Women today have choices that have never been available to
them before. Barbies accessories transform her into an astronaut, or into a business woman and
serve to open every womans eyes to the myriad opportunities which are now available to them.
Barbie is on the leading edge of feminism.
Barbies hour-glass figure is a model of timeless beauty. Is that such a bad goal for young
women? She is healthy and vivacious. She has the ideal body. Those who criticise Barbie for her
appearance in fact, advocate laziness. Since they cant be bothered to be slim and make
themselves attractive, they attack women who are. Do we want to encourage women to become
obese and unhealthy by making them play with the Body Shops new voluptuous Ruby doll? As a
result of their own sloth, Ruby doll advocates have ignited a revolt against beauty and health.
They are trying to make people believe that bigger is better. Being slim is not only attractive, it is
also healthy. Barbie can thus be seen as a symbol of health.
Barbie is not dependent on men. She has her own job, her own house and her own car. Her
boyfriend Ken comes and goes but she is very much her own ruler. In contrast to the traditional
male-dominated society, in Barbies world Ken is a side-figure who was created specifically to be
her boyfriend. At a time when feminists are promoting the liberation of women Barbie is already
setting the example for young girls to follow.
Barbie is also on the leading edge of racial tolerance. She truly does transcend traditions and
borders. There are more than six Barbies that have different ethnic origins. Each time she appears
as a different racial type, she promotes the culture of her origins. The 1997 Hong Kong Handover
edition Barbie wears a traditional Chinese Cheong Sam. Barbie is a symbol of the global village.
She appears as Native American, Chinese, African, Indian and a variety of other ethnic groups. As
America woke up to the dawn of desegregation and racial tensions were still high, Mattel was the
only company that dared to be different. Promoting racial harmony, Mattel came out with its
newest doll: Barbies best friend, who is African American.
These are difficult times. Who will guide us from the depths of despair, along the perilous path to
prosperity? Barbie will lead us to health, Barbie will lead us towards unity, Barbie will lead us to
equality and Barbie will lead us towards hope.
Ateesh Chanda (Year 12 Non-fiction: Winner)
Satanism
The reason I chose to write about this religion is because I feel that the way society has always
treated it is unfair.
You may find it awkward how I classify Satanism as a religion, but thats what it really is. Satanism
has all the aspects of a religion according to the definition printed under the word religion in the
Oxford Dictionary. Satanists believe in a God and follow a system of faith and worship.
As the Christians have their Ten Commandments, Satanists also have their Ten Satanic Rules of
the Earth:
* Do not give opinion or advice unless you are asked.
* Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them.
* When in anothers lair, show him respect or else do not go there.
* If a guest in your lair annoys you, treat him cruelly and without mercy.
* Do not make sexual advances unless you are given the mating signal.
* Do not take that which does not belong to you unless it is a burden to the other person and he
cries to be relieved.
* Acknowledge the power of magic if you have employed it successfully to obtain your desires.
* If you deny the power of magic after having called upon it with success, you will lose all you
have obtained.
* Do not complain about anything to which you need not subject yourself.
* Do not harm little children.
* When walking into open territory, bother no one. If someone bothers you, ask him to stop. If he
does not stop destroy him.
Many members of society do not consider themselves as racist just because they use the words
African-American instead of Niggers, Chinese instead of Chinks, and Native-Americans instead
of Savages. Yet, I bet that if you went and told these same people that you were a Satanist they
would keep their family and themselves as far away from you as possible. In their ignorance
because theyd think that you went around town sacrificing children and animals, and drinking
blood. I cannot stress enough how untrue that is!
The ninth and tenth rules of Satanism state that you should not harm children or animals (unless
you need the animals for food, or are under attack by them). This is no worse than the hunters
who shoot animals for sport, or the normal person who follows a meat diet. And secondly,
drinking blood? They are Satanists not vampires! Surely they dont honestly believe that they are
blood-sucking immortals now do you? Now vampires do exist - but not as the vicious, fanged,
neck-biting, black-cape-wearing people that everyone seems to think they are. They are merely a
group of people who worship the ancient religion. Even if they did drink blood, theyd only drink as
much as the next person i.e. the people who eat their steaks rare, the British who eat Black
Pudding, the Chinese who eat solidified chickens blood, the Vietnamese who drink snakes blood
and the Scottish who eat Haggis.
Satanists can be and are like any other normal person out there. The author and creator of the
Sherlock Holmes books - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - was a Satanist. Notice the SIR at the
beginning of his name. Would he have been knighted if he had committed any one of those
crimes? Id think most probably NOT.
Christianity is considered as one of the main religions of the world and, because of this, many
non-Christians start to follow their beliefs in heaven and hell, Christmas, Easter and so on. And
many imagine Satan as the stereotype of a red-coloured demon with two horns on its head,
carrying a pitchfork, and existing as the ruler of hell under the name, as he is known to many, of
The Prince of Darkness. Has anyone got any solid evidence whatsoever to prove this? The
answer is no. Why cant society just treat and think of Satan as a being of higher consciousness,
as Satanists do?
The followers of Satanism dont believe in God, heaven or hell. They try and face reality instead of
looking up to a God that may not even exist. Do they look up to their God - Satan? The truth of the
matter is no: they dont believe in him but they believe that there is a higher state of
consciousness somewhere in the world that exists as Satan. The majority of Satanists dont join
the religion to worship Satan; they tend to join as a rejection of Christianity - which is why Satan
has also been named the Anti-Christ. They just want to stand up for their rights because they
agree with the idea of the real Satanist religion.
Without doubt the worst rule from the Ten Satanic Rules of the Earth is number ten, which says
destroy him. That may sound evil and unjust but it doesnt necessarily mean you have to kill the
person, because you can emotionally or mentally destroy someone by driving him or her insane.
But arent these rules reasonable? Arent they vastly different to how youd expect them to be? If
you believe these rules to be false, they arent. They have been copied word for word from the
Satanic Bible.
Now I must admit that there are Satanist cults, and I wont hide the fact that they have horrific
rituals; but there are Christian cults too, which can be much worse. Just as mainstream
Christianity such as the Roman Catholics, the Methodists, and the Protestants are all right, so is
mainstream Satanism. But there are Christian cults that stretch the truth far from what the original
idea was, just like Satanic cults. The Jesus Army is a Christian cult who do not allow their children
to play with toys as the elders of the group (the supposed wise people of the cult) claim that toys
are a work of Satan, as with television and other forms of entertainment. Do you see Roman
Catholic children with toys? Yes, and this is my point. The Jesus Army and Roman Catholicism are
nothing alike, as with mainstream Satanism and all the Satanist cults.
With the Christian cults, their excuse for their behaviour always has to do with something negative
about Satan. For example: - toys are the work of the devil, TV is the work of the devil, and you are
the son of Satan and so therefore you must accept a harsh punishment. Why all this criticism
towards Satan? Surely toys werent his invention - just imagine, Satan sitting in his lair creating
the next Play-stations and cyber-pets.
In our culture we must learn to stop criticising the beliefs of others. There has been a decrease in
racism over the years, there has been less injustice towards the African-Americans - slavery has
been abolished and laws have been set up protecting them and awarding them equality; the
Chinese are being more readily accepted into more and more societies and the Nazis have
stopped persecuting the Jews.
I just hope that someday people will stop criticising Satanists and their religion, and try to
understand them rather than listening to stereotypes and keeping their distance.
Over a long and slow process it could be achieved. Then we would be a step further out of
injustice and prejudice, and a step further into equality.
Cheryl Lee
My Grandpa
Norman Reid, my grandpa, was born in Wangaratta (Australia) on the Twentieth of February 1919
and spent his early years in the county town of Myrtleford. When he was six years old, he moved
to Melbourne, capital of Victoria. His parents were Olive and Raymond Reid. He had two brothers,
Kenny and John. Norman was the eldest, followed by Kenny (five years younger) and the
youngest was John (ten years younger). Papa went to Moreland High School and decided that he wanted to be a motor mechanic like his Dad. When he finished school, he trained at Austins
where his father was boss and at night, he studied mechanical engineering at Melbourne
Technical College. World War II broke out and he joined the army at the age of twenty. He fought
in the middle east in the Ninth Division Cavalry which meant he was in a tank on the 17th of July
1942, at El Alamein.
The enemy hit his tank and his life was thought to be over. He was critically injured and today he
has scars on his face and chest. Luckily for all of us, he survived and returned to Melbourne to
marry my Nana. He loved to build and race cars and motor bikes. He was famous for breaking the
record times. My Mum remembers he was not too popular in the quiet neighbourhood that she
grew up in. This was because he liked to test drive his cars/motor bikes early on Sunday
mornings! He knew everything about cars so he was hired by an insurance company as Chief
Engineer in the loss assessment area. He did this until he retired at the age of sixty five.
So many things make my Grandpa special. He is a good artist and loves to improvise. He painted
Ayers Rock and put me on top as the ghost of Ooleroo. When I was four, I insisted we had a
Robin Hood birthday party for him at our house and that everyone dressed up as a character from
Robin Hood. He agreed and came as Friar Tuck.
He is kind. gentle, generous and very unselfish. He sent me ginger bread men that I cant get in
Hong Kong, hot dogs and a CD of a percussionist, Evelyn Glennie, just recently. He paints all his
cards for birthdays, Christmas and for no reason at all. After he sent me the hot dogs, he sent me
a card of a sausage with wings and a tail. When I was little, he made me big cards out of twenty
dollar notes. When I was three, he had a picture of me holding a fishing rod and standing next to a
$20 note folded like a fish.
For my fourth birthday, I was flying into Bali as Superman with a $20 cape around my neck.
Whenever I go to Australia, I look forward to Sundays at his place because he is an excellent
cook! He can fix anything! He can crack any kind of puzzle and he makes a lot of good things for
me. He made Duplo towers with me when I was little, a bridge for my Robin Hood characters, a
raft and a jousting fence for my knights and much more. When I turned six he dubbed me Sir
Oliver of Mooltan, the bravest knight of them all. He designed me a shield, a flag, a ship and
painted a T-shirt. Every week he wrote a new adventure about me leading my army into battle....
always winning, of course. My colours were his regiment colours: brown, red and green, meaning
Through mud and blood to the green fields beyond.
He loves to read. His favourite book is Omar Khayam. He loves jazz music and and all types of
sport.
Last but not least.... I love my Grandfather and am very proud to be named after him (Oliver
Norman Blake).
Oliver Blake
The Mother of the World
Mother Teresas work is not as easy as it seems. Behind her smile lies a person fighting to keep
people alive with the medicine of love.
Mother Teresa is a woman known for her never-ending courage and hope. Her name was often
mentioned throughout my childhood and, even though my parents were not religious, she was
always referred to as the angel. I never imagined an opportunity to talk to her let alone see her,
so I grew up without ever considering the idea. It wasnt until I learnt of some of the horrible
hardships she had experienced throughout her life, that I finally decided to really get to know this
person who does so much for so little. And on the tenth of September 1996, I received a call
accepting my request to interview Mother Teresa in Calcutta.
Half way up the drive to the House of Hope, my heart skipped a beat. I couldnt believe it: I was
here to interview the famous Mother Teresa, my childhood idol. As I approached the shabby,
cracked building, threading my way through over-grown weeds in a blanket of heat, I wondered
how she goes on in these conditions?
Arriving at the front door, I knocked on it and began to take in the views of my surroundings when
it was suddenly flung open. I was greeted by an elderly nun who welcomed me with a huge grin.
She turned away from me for a moment shouting something in Hindi, then turned back to me,
grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.
When my eyes adjusted to the light the whole situation looked chaotic. People were running
around yelling this or that, bodies — alive or dead? — lay all over the floor and the stench was
indescribable. But with the ringing of a bell the whole place fell silent, a voice called out orders
and prayers from the bible, and then once more people continued to move about, but this time in
silence.
I realised by then that the voice had been that of Mother Teresa. I was ushered further into the
room and suddenly there she was, my heroine, my idol. She stood right across from me with eyes
full of hope and an expression full of love. She beckoned to me and led me in silence over to a
room. On the way, she stopped every now and then to pat the hands of her children.
Inside the room she turned to me and said, welcome to my sanctuary. She turned away for a
moment. I could see she was in silent prayer. She turned back and blessed me.
This was the most powerfully emotional way to start an interview in all of my twenty-year career as a journalist!
We sat down. Mother Teresas secretary had given me thirty minutes. I began to ask her about her
life, and was surprised when she remained silent; she seemed to be in a trance. I stopped my
question in mid-point and softly called her name. At the mention of her name she began to speak.
My child, she said, the only way to know me is to look around my house of hope and see with
eyes of love. What was that meant to mean, I asked myself but my thoughts were interrupted with
the continuation of her answer, You see, many choose to ask instead of to seek, many choose to
argue without trying to make peace, and my life is like that... Ill never forget that man... And with
that astonishing statement her voiced trailed off.
I opened my mouth to ask about that man, but Mother Teresa didnt seem finished yet.
It was that day, that man, dogs...how could they? I was starting to become very confused and
then the answer struck me like a knife. Of course — she was talking about the man she had seen
many years before, in the beggar streets of Calcutta, too sick to get away from dogs that were
beginning to eat him alive. Up to that moment, I had never really allowed myself to believe that
this could be a true story and not a myth. I now understood, from Mother Teresas pained
expression even after all these years, that it was a true story, that it was that pitiful man who made
her decide to create the house of hope.
Mother Teresa patted my hand, knowing that I understood, and beckoned me to follow her.
Stepping carefully around the bodies of her children she led me around the rooms of the building,
and whispered, did you know that Im the third cousin of Mahatma Gandhi? into my ear.
I was astounded. What a family: two world-famous peace makers. Really! I replied. What else
could I have said?
I was just on the verge of getting over the shock when she then whispered, And his third cousin is
Nelson Mandela. Now that was a little too much to handle: it was just beyond my disbelief... three
peace makers in the family? I was dumb struck.
But a few seconds later I clicked back into reality, hearing laughter echo through the room, Mother
Teresa faced me and said, You did know that I was joking, yes? Her expression was warm, with
some hint of the lively young girl who first came to these alleys so many years ago emerging from
behind the deep wrinkles on that famous face.
I told her that I hadnt appreciated she was playing one of her trade-mark jokes on me. She
listened, patted my hand again, and said, You are a funny girl, but I like you, my child.
For the rest of the time I was there I didnt ask Mother Teresa any more questions about her life,
that already so-famous life. I decided to follow her advice, and seek the answers through her
sanctuary and her children.
Just watching her talk and calm patients — some in terrible pain from cancer or leprosy — filled
my heart with warmth and appreciation for what I (an ordinary person) have in life.
Her actions made me realise that hope is what counts, not the money you have or the number of
cars or houses.
She said very few words, in her rounds of the sick and the dying. Yet the glow of appreciation, of
respect, of love made me realise that if you give a little, it goes a long, long way. And that you
should give without expecting anything back.
Mother Teresa — the angel of Calcutta — made me realise that life is more precious than it seems
and that in order to find answers you have to seek within yourself and others.
Mother Teresas sanctuary, in a city boiling with pain and apparent hopelessness, became my
house of hope as well. This is the touch of Mother Teresa.
Andrea Tull (Year 11 Non-fiction: Winner)
Toilet Transport
It is asinine how people never think of other kinds of transport apart from buses and taxis and
cars. I mean, everyday we go to different places in Hong Kong in the same old malodorous
vehicles. We are all impossibly obnoxious about travelling on bicycles and much too lazy to walk.
If someone had imagination, surely they would come across the concept of toilet transport!
It only takes a drop of absolute wisdom and some creative thought to arrive at the new way of
reaching another zone in Hong Kong. It would be as simple as using the mass transit railway
nowadaysexcept toilet transport wont even need to involve buying a ticket because the toilet
stations are in our very own homes!
This is how it works: Builders enlarge the size of the pipes, line them with fluffy cushions and
carpet, and divide the pipe into two with a glass panel. One side of the pipe is for passengers and
the other is for our waste products. The glass panel will obviously be innocuous and leak proof (for
you people already grossed out, out there!).
Along the side of the passenger pipe are buttons that are easy to grab hold of. These buttons are
connected to toilet openings so when the passenger grabs the button, he or she is thrown to a
smaller and less cushioned tunnel that will bring them to the entrance of a toilet station.
Should I run through all that again?
So the traveller clambers into a toilet (preferably not public), reaches their hand out for the flush
and zoom...into a tunnel! They would then be led into another tunnel like a pitch-black roller-
coaster, and within seconds be out in the public tunnel whizzing through efficiently. When they
need to stop, out swings their hand and gropes for the button and bang...into a toilet of their
destination.
For the first trip, the passenger will have zilch idea on when to get off. So, just like the Mass
Transit Railway the pipes will be colour-coded. For example, Causeway Bay might be light blue, or
Central would be green.
Obviously, before the passenger gingerly steps into the toilet bowl they will have to purchase a
map of the pipe surrounding Hong Kong from their Toilet Company.
When they want to go home, they step into a toilet and switch the flush to back position and
within seconds, theyll be rolling smoothly home.
I am immensely proud of such a prodigious idea. After all, Im only twelve and already I have
thought of something only a professor who graduated from the Genius School of Geniuses could
have thought of.
Of course, the idea still needs building on (and perhaps some trial runs). There are still some
flaws, for example, how will the traveller fit into the toilet bowl if they are overweight? Or how can
the traveller stay dry before travelling?
To end this short notice and stop myself from boasting anymore, I shall say this idea is
scientifically educational as well as futuristic and imaginative. As Hong Kong Telecom says, What
can be imagined, can be achieved.
Helen Lok (Year 8 Non-fiction: Winner)
Visitors since 22nd June 1999: 
Created on an Acorn RiscPC by Island School English Department on 22nd June 1999.
