By Younus Ahmed

Copyright dawn

It was a bright morning — just being alive felt special. I was in a great mood because my mother had given me RM400 (Ringgit Malaysia) to cover my weekly expenses while she and my dad went to visit her sick grandaunt for a week.

I felt so excited thinking about all the things I could do with the money! If I ate only cheap food like bread and butter all week, I’d save about RM300, which I could then spend on new computer games. It felt like the perfect start to my day.

The physical education lesson was, as usual, a gruelling session of endless running and weight training. I could hardly catch my breath as I trudged back wearily to the classroom. When I was near the classroom, I heard a loud commotion coming from inside and quickly rushed in. My classmates were gathered around Tommy’s table as he ransacked through his books, stationery and some personal belongings in his bag. His distress was obvious.

Tommy had always been a popular boy in class. Not only was he bright and well-mannered, but he also came from a wealthy family that provided him with all he could ask for. Yet, he chose to share everything he had with us, never minding the fact that he always gave while we received.

I rushed immediately to his side when I saw his anxiety. I quickly learnt that Tommy had lost the money he had brought as a donation to the welfare home we were to visit that day on a school trip. Understanding the situation, I proposed that we organise a search around the classroom and inform the class teacher as soon as possible.

Taking my suggestion seriously, the class immediately took action. In no time, Miss Soh rushed to the classroom to take control of the situation. She decided to search everyone’s bags. We quickly stood by our tables and emptied the contents of our bags onto them. When it came to my turn, I diligently took out all my possessions for inspection. My wallet was the last item to be checked. As Miss Soh took out the RM400 from it, the class fell into a hushed silence.

Up till then, I had no idea that the amount lost was exactly RM400. Had I not been aware of my innocence, even I would have agreed that the evidence was incriminating enough to indict me. Everyone stared at me in horror. Miss Soh was triumphant — pleased that her efforts at flushing out the thief had borne fruit.

In a loud and harsh voice, she demanded to know where the money had come from. I told her the truth, but it fell on deaf ears. She appeared not to have heard anything I said, choosing instead to dwell on the ‘facts’ of the matter.

She proclaimed loudly that I had been caught red-handed, dismissing my story as ludicrous because my family was not well-off and could not possibly afford to give me RM400. She also went on to elaborate on the evils of envy, implying that I had stolen from Tommy because I was jealous of him.

All this while, I was struck dumb by her convincing words, amazed at the conjectures she had come up with based on the RM400 found in my wallet. The situation was worsened by the unfortunate fact that my parents could not come forward to corroborate my story.

By this time, the whole class was shaking their heads disapprovingly at me, obviously in full accord with the teacher’s allegations. I was appalled and terrified. I could feel the jaws of misguided justice closing around my neck and I struggled against it. I kept protesting my innocence, trying to drown out their accusations with the sheer volume of my voice. But it was to no avail.

The principal was called in to handle the situation. He promptly decided that the evidence against me was damning enough to warrant an immediate suspension or expulsion once my parents returned from their trip. I was devastated. How could they decide on my guilt without even checking out my story? Even a phone call to my parents was considered too much trouble for the school. Instead, they chose to concentrate on consoling Tommy and placating his parents. I knew then that my humble background was the reason why my words carried less weight than Tommy’s distress. It was a sobering experience, educating me in the realities of life.

The entire week was spent in a state of confusion. I kept to myself a lot, choosing not to leave the house at all. I lost a great deal of weight since I was subsisting only on bread and butter. The RM400 had been confiscated by the school as ‘evidence’, leaving me only the loose change around the house to buy things with. Humiliation and anger were my constant companions during that week. None of my classmates telephoned me, not even those who were my buddies. Obviously, the stink of being a thief was more potent than that of friendship.

My parents finally returned. They rushed to the school to clarify matters once they realised what had happened. The school authorities, instead of feeling apologetic, chose to place the blame squarely on what they called my “inability to put across the situation clearly.”

My parents were infuriated. They wrote a long complaint against the school and transferred me to a different school. The matter was finally resolved when the principal and Miss Soh were chastised for their mishandling of the situation, and I was officially cleared of all charges. But to this day, it still hurts to know that, to certain people, wealth spoke louder than truth.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 27th, 2025