“I’d ask, ‘How many of you like English?’ and no one would raise their hand. Then I’d ask, ‘Is English difficult?’ and they’d all nod,” he recalled.

Fast forward to 2025, and everything has changed.

Last weekend, nearly 200 children from eight primary schools (Standard Four to Standard Six) and over 100 volunteers gathered at SJKC Ijok for the 7th Ijok Annual English Language Camp – a day bursting with joy, games, storytelling, and surprises.

This year’s highlight? A dramatisation of “Rumpelstiltskin”, complete with props and laughter echoing through the school hall. But beyond the fun and fairy tales, something deeper was happening.

“This time, when I asked if English was fun, they all put up their hands,” Cheli enthused. “That’s the impact these camps have had.”

Organised by the Reading Bus Club of Kuala Lumpur, the camp is more than an event. It’s a community movement.

Founded in 2013, this club began holding fortnightly English classes across three locations in Ijok – including building a library with 10,000 books at an office, thanks to the support of Dr Idris Ahmad, the former state assemblyman.

Over the years, the camps evolved into something magical. With help from local and foreign universities, along with community halls in Ijok and Bestari Jaya, the camps brought in students, teachers, parents – and most importantly, hope.

“English is often a ‘killer subject’ in rural schools,” Cheli, 65, explained. “But if we can make it fun, we can make children fall in love with learning again.”

Each year, the format remains simple yet effective: station games focused on grammar, vocabulary, and reading, ending with a live story performance, goodie bags, and a hearty lunch.

This year, Wesley Methodist Singapore didn’t just send volunteers – they also funded the entire camp, from meals to materials.

But what makes this camp truly special is the heart of Ijok itself. “This is not a case of outsiders coming in to help while the locals just receive,” Cheli said firmly.

“The people here give back. They go to their factories, talk to employers, and some sponsor breakfast, lunch, or gifts. They want to be involved,” he added.

Past camps saw parents setting up fruit carnivals for visiting volunteers. Others taught traditional games – kabaddi, sadhu gudu, lion dance, Malay drums – turning the camp into a cultural festival.

“One year, the penghulu stopped traffic for an hour just so the kids could walk the volunteers through town, showing them where they buy their shoes and get haircuts,” Cheli shared.

“I’m 65. I love my country. When I see moments like this, it makes me emotional,” he added.

Even without political backing, the people of Ijok want to carry this forward. “They said, we’ll continue this legacy – with or without support. That’s a real community,” said Cheli. “And we’ll stand with them as long as we’re around.”

The passion that drives this initiative runs deep. For Cheli, reading isn’t just about academic success -it’s about giving children a fighting chance in life.

“Children who are unable to read end up becoming victims to bullies and do not have the capacity to move up the social ladder,” he said. “They tend to lose interest in school and eventually drop out early in life.”

That’s why camps like these matter. They create moments of joy, belonging, and belief – experiences that can shape a child’s path for years to come.

And for every hand raised, for every child who now says “English is fun”, the legacy grows stronger.