Many have never seen the inside of a classroom and their days are spent lounging under the sun, waiting for the day when they are strong enough to become oil palm plantation labourers just like their parents.

This is the cycle of life that Riswan Abadi Hasanuddin, himself a former labourer, believed could only be broken with education.

Riswan was only 17 when he started work as an oil palm harvester in Kalabakan. “It always hurt me to see my fellow workers’ children not knowing how to read or write because there was no school near-by they could go to.

“Every time I worked, it was hard on my body. I didn’t wish that for these children. But without education, they are destined to do the job their parents do,” he told FMT.

The children’s dismal future gnawed at him but because he was young, he felt he was in no position to influence anyone about providing education for them.

Over the next few years, he rose through the ranks, becoming a ‘mandor’ before he turned 24.

He said it often pained him to see some children, who should be in school, following their parents to work. “When I asked how they felt, they said that was their destiny. I disagreed,” he said.

So, he resolved to do something about it.

He began rummaging for used paper and discarded pencils at the estate’s office at the end of every work day. He said some staff even gave him unused pens and better-quality paper when he told them his plan.

Armed with this small stash of stationery, Riswan began his ‘night school’ in his house. That was 11 years ago.

“I was tired after working all day. But I was young, thankfully. I had a lot of energy,” he said, adding that he couldn’t have pulled this off without the help of his wife.

On the first night, over 10 children showed up. But before long 30-40 children were crammed in the living room of his wooden house, learning how to write and recite their ABCs.

“We began to rotate the classes according to age groups. They were so eager to learn. I taught them how to read and write, and basic mathematics,” he said.

When the estate manager caught wind of Riswan’s ‘covert’ school, instead of a reprimand, he received support. The company even provided the children with better school supplies and soon there were discussions to build a school within the plantation.

Unfortunately, two years passed and no school was built.

But as fate would have it, the Indonesian Consulate drew up plans to open a community learning centre (CLC), funded by the Indonesian government and the plantation owner.

It was decided that the Indonesian education syllabus be used, and students were offered the opportunity to further their studies in Indonesia. “They could even get a full scholarship! I was ecstatic about this and eagerly agreed to oversee the setting up of the school myself,” he said.

However, Riswan found himself knee-deep in red tape and realised that he had a long road ahead before the school would be up and running. But with the company’s support, the school was approved and a suitable site identified.

Besides supplying the school with textbooks, the Indonesian government even sent a headmaster to run the school. The plantation, on the other hand, paid the salaries of at least three teachers.

“It was then that I was given a choice. To continue work at the plantation as a ‘mandor’ with better pay, or as a teacher. I chose the latter,” he said.

Riswan spent the next 12 months in Indonesia training to be a teacher and returned in 2014 with his teaching certificate in hand. The school officially began operating that year with a little more than 150 students.

Apart from academics, students take part in district-level sports tournaments and other extracurricular activities such as debates and chess tournaments.

Several students have even gone on to further their studies in Indonesia on Indonesian government scholarships.

Looking back, Riswan said he is content with where his teaching career has taken him.

“I don’t hope for any recognition. It was all God’s will. I thought only to myself, maybe if I continued to do this, it would give these children hope that they could go far in life, get better jobs in the cities.

“I wish they could go to university and become accountants, lawyers or engineers; even if that did not happen for me.”