Having an IC is something that most Malaysians take for granted, but it took Syed 20 years to get his. Photo: Unicef Malaysia
Raised by two foster grandmothers, a 22-year-old who wants to be known simply as Syed, says life as an undocumented child was tough.
Born in Malaysia, Syed has a birth certificate, but due to incomplete documentation, he could not get his identity card (IC) when he turned 12, limiting his access to education and other resources enjoyed by his Malaysian peers.
Born undocumented, Syed is grateful to social workers, without whom he wouldn’t be where he is today, educated and employed. Photo: Unicef Malaysia“Having an IC is something many Malaysians take for granted. But it took me over 20 years to get mine,” he says.
And it was the relentless work of two social workers – Siti Nur Fitriah Zaid and Shahira Kasim – that helped changed his fate, says Syed, who is an electric-IT technician working at the Petronas Twin Towers.
“Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today. All the counselling, encouragement and practical help they provided changed my fate and the trajectory of my life,” he adds.
Syed says he could attend primary school because of his foster grandmothers’ adoption papers, but he wasn’t allowed into secondary school.
At 16, his life changed when Nenek Mariam, one of his foster grandmothers, discovered Yayasan Chow Kit, a crisis centre for disadvantaged youth. There, he met Siti Nur Fitriah and Shahira, who helped and supported him over the years, including following up on his IC application.
“They motivated me, accompanied me to the National Registration Department (NRD) and even found a government school where I could continue my education,” Syed says.
He attended Form Four at a school in Sentul and with tuition at Yayasan Chow Kit, caught up with the syllabus and sat for Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia (SPM).
Although Syed had wanted to become a pilot, he couldn’t enrol in a flying school without an IC.
So the social workers found a technical college in Selayang. Syed topped his class, graduating with a CGPA of 3.61 and was the head of the student council.
Syed says without an IC, he faced constant challenges, from explaining his status to the Police, to missing out on opportunities like playing futsal competitively.
It was only last year, after going back and forth to the NRD, that he received his IC. After his graduation, he landed an internship at the Petronas Twin Towers and was later offered his current job.
Despite being frontliners in helping the underprivileged and underserved in the society, social workers are not formally recognised in Malaysia.
Last year, the United Nations Children’s Fund (Unicef) and Malaysian Association of Social Workers (MASW) launched the Heroes Among Us campaign to raise awareness on the challenges faced by social workers.
The campaign also underlined the necessity of tabling the Social Work Profession Bill promptly. Drafting began in 2010, but the Bill has yet to be tabled.
“I’m shocked to know that social workers aren’t formally recognised in Malaysia and I hope they’ll get the credit and recognition they deserve. Without them, many people like me won’t get the help they need,” says Syed.
Sean’s life is greatly impacted by the work of social workers and his adoptive parents. Photo: Soman & Padma ZachariahSean Noah Zachariah, whose life was also changed by social workers, agrees.
“Social workers took care of me before my adoption. For those without a family, they’re the next line of defence,” says Sean, who is a recipient of the Asean Leader Scholarship (2022).
The 14-year old student of Epsom College Malaysia is also active in his school’s marching band and swimming team.
He regularly visits and volunteers at the children’s shelter where he once stayed. He has also organised a book donation drive with his friends to benefit an NGO.
“These achievements wouldn’t have been possible without the social workers who helped me and the support of my adoptive parents,” he says.
“I was almost a victim of human trafficking but was rescued and brought to a shelter,” says Sean.
Sean with his mother Padma. Photo: Soman & Padma Zachariah
When childless couple Soman and Padma Zachariah first met Sean in 2012 at a Yayasan Chow Kit, he was very timid. “I clung to the skirt of a social worker when I met my adoptive parents,” Sean recalls.
The Zachariahs were screened by social workers, including former social worker Amy Bala, who is now Malaysian Association of Social Work (MASW)'s vice-president. She encouraged them to visit after they expressed an interest in adopting Sean.
Sean’s adoptive father Soman (second from left) and adoptive mother Padma (right), with Childline Foundation director Datin PH Wong (left) and Suhakam children’s commissioner Dr Farah Nini Dusuki at an event. Photo: Soman & Padma ZachariahIt took six months for him to warm up. Soman would bring his guitar and sing with the children, and this helped build a bond.
Eventually, Sean became comfortable enough to go on outings with the couple, accompanied by social workers.
Over time, they gained his trust and a year later, officially adopted him. Initially, Soman took leave from work to care for Sean while Padma ran a business from home.
Another family whose life was deeply impacted by the support of social workers is Farah (who also wishes to remain anonymous), a single mother of four. One of her children, Freddy, is a special needs boy.
Freddy was born with a cleft lip and speech impairment, and when they moved to Kuala Lumpur in 2008, Farah struggled to make ends meet, working as a security guard and earning RM1,200.
Farah (left) with her special needs son Freddy and their social worker Siti Nur Fitriah. Photo: Unicef Malaysia
At just four years old, Freddy was placed in the care of Yayasan Chow Kit while she worked.
“The social workers there, Tuan Noor Hasini and Shahira, gave us advice, emotional support and sometimes even money for food and transport,” says Farah.
They also helped enrol Freddy in a special needs school in Brickfields and accompanied him to his medical appointments.
Freddy, who had surgery for his cleft lip at five months old, thrived in the centre, communicating through gestures and bonding with the other children.
Now, Farah rents a house with her three other children and hopes Freddy will join them once he completes school.
She expresses deep gratitude for the social workers’ unwavering support.
“Despite having their own family responsibilities, they've never let us down. They are our heroes,” she says.
