I cursed. It was partly out of habit, as I had been struggling, for the last 20 minutes, to locate the address of a Training of Trainer (TOT) applicant, and partly because I had mistakenly thought that I was fairly familiar with this area of Kuala Lumpur! Upon checking the address again, it dawned on me that it must be in the next block of housing units. 

My experience working with women’s organizations, counseling many women in distress and crisis told me that the woman I was looking for was undergoing so much trauma that she was perhaps finding it hard to focus on things that were familiar to her, even communicating her own street address.

She was the third applicant I had visited that day, and the last in my list of potential ten TOT candidates. It had been particularly challenging as the three women lived far apart from each other, in different parts of town. The first two home visits and face-to-face interviews earlier in the day had thrown me back to the days when I worked as a para-counsellor for a women’s group. The familiar stories of domestic violence, deserted wives, broken relationships, custody battles and economic deprivation had already been told that day. 

When I finally found the house and rang the bell, no one came out to greet me. The next door neighbor’s dog barked noisily. Another five minutes went by and then a pale, tired woman came out and led me into her house. I did a quick visual scan around the near empty living room and noticed her meager possessions - an old 14” TV propped on a shaky bar stool, a worn out foot rest at the corner of the room and a four-feet aquarium with a sole arowana swimming aimlessly in the murky water. It was obvious that I was witnessing the aftermath of a recent matrimonial property division.  

I usually conduct an initial, formal interview which would verify the facts given by these women in their application forms.  After the formalities were over and the papers were tucked away, I would sit with them and listen to their stories. I was neither there to provide answers to their problems, nor to judge them. Most often, the women just wanted someone to listen to them and perhaps show them the options to consider. I was, of course, certain that the TOT opportunity and a job as a home-based administrative assistant would give them the strength to take a positive step in changing their lives.

As I browsed through her application form, I was familiarising myself with this woman’s situation. The information provided in the form told me that she was a single mother with 2 teenage children, with no child maintenance from her ex-spouse and earning a measly salary. As we sat facing each other, I made an attempt to be as non-imposing as possible. To ease her nervousness, I made the interview as light as possible, making small talk while she narrated the facts.

When I asked her a routine question, she broke down and cried and hurriedly resumed her composure. The interview was difficult and the conversation was minimal.  I knew that I wouldn’t accomplish much at the rate we were going and tried to round off the interview. As we concluded, I told her about all the other women in similar situations as hers, who had sought help and were subsequently on the road to healing and recovery. As we spoke, something I said touched a chord within her and before I knew it, she had opened up. We talked for a long time. 

On my way home, I thought about the ten special women I had met, each unique in her own way and each with her own issues to overcome. Despite their differences, I also knew that the upcoming TOT computer classes would create a unique bond between them because they would find solace and support in each other as they embarked on their journey towards self-reliance.

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