Kuala Lampur, May 15 -- I was eleven, sitting straight in a wooden chair that felt too big for my small frame, staring at the blackboard like it held the secrets of the universe - or at least the secret to avoiding a scolding. My pencil was sharpened. My workbook was neat. And my heart was pounding. Standing in front of the class was Cikgu Aminah: tall, loud, and undeniably garang.

You didn't talk when she entered the room. You didn't laugh. You didn't even breathe too loudly. You froze - not because you were told to, but because instinct told you that crossing her line came with consequences. She didn't need to shout to get our attention, but she often did anyway. Her voice carried - across rows of students, through the open windows, so...