THE KLIMUN EXPERIENCE

Some words and phrases just resonate with absolute power and meaning. The description of a person or an event as “life changing” can be cited as an example of this axiom. To think that a personality, a speech, an action, a revelation or an idea is so significant as to alter the purpose of your existence is almost unthinkable and terribly frightening. It is this fear that acts as fuel for cynicism and skepticism. Nevertheless, even the shrewdest of universal critics would have their work cut out for them if they were given the task of proving that the 3rd KLIMUN was not, indeed, life-changing for all parties concerned. Prior to my departure for the conference, I scoffed at a prediction made on its official website that the atmosphere would be filled with “surpassed expectations.” I now retract my denouncement in embarrassment and with humility.
KLIMUN, strangely enough, expanded my mind exponentially by making me first realize just how little of it was filled. As I took my seat in the Political and Human Rights committees’ chamber, I inwardly beamed to myself, thinking the following “What issue could possibly be brought up that I haven’t at least heard mentioned before?” Not too long thereafter, I noticed that the interior of my mouth was experiencing a severe drought and that the nerve endings in my limbs were all but shorted out. At that point in time, my brain was struggling to cope with a perpetual kamikaze attack of new information: speeches about the situation in Gaza, the use of antiretroviral drugs and self determination were being heard but not processed. I would not be lying if I told you that I felt mentally retarded, like a preschooler sitting in on a university lecture. This was not just because I was made aware of how ignorant and ill-informed I was. It was also because I found myself in the presence of individuals far better at debate and critical thinking than me. I didn’t walk out of the theatre: I limped out, like a wounded dog with a battered ego. I croaked to Wei Jie, “Man, I am so out of my depth, it’s just not funny.” I am grateful to KLIMUN for diminishing the size of my previously swelled head by making me realize that I have a long way to go indeed before I can claim with any degree of honesty that I know about the world and the situations its children are facing. These last 5 days have made me want to explore and acquire knowledge with renewed vigor. I may want to make a change, an impact but if I don’t know about the issues I have to address to be able to do so, I might as well commit myself to the anti-progressive cause that is selfish stagnancy.
KLIMUN taught me about the invaluable nature of belief and the importance of pursuing a goal regardless of how many potholes and rocks may be found on the path that leads to its achievement. During the closing ceremony, members of the Secretariat spoke of how, at one point, KLIMUN was on the verge of being discarded as a good idea that lacked the support of a sufficient number of delegates. If they hadn’t decided to doggedly go ahead with preparations hoping for the best, 80 individuals would’ve missed out on the opportunity to have epiphany after epiphany after epiphany, through questioning, consideration and the declaration of opinions. I salute Emmanuel, Matthew and all their co-conspirators for their impeccable organization, doting supervision and flawlessly professional adjudication. The world could really do with more folks like them.
 At the end of the opening ceremony, I’d felt somewhat disappointed at the absence of a large number of delegates from overseas. Needless to say, this dissatisfaction rapidly ebbed away as I came to terms with the delegates who were able to make it. When I think of Reza from Iran, Seth from Botswana, Divine from Nigeria and Hemish from Kenya (all of whom are studying locally), I laugh at my own foolish thought that day that KLIMUN was not going to be the international experience I’d hoped for. What’s more, the colorful Malaysian characters that were such a massive part of my life for 5 days in diplomatic paradise made the question of nationality hastily exit my mind with its tail between its legs. Shaza, Juliana, Dhania, Diana, Frank, Jeremy, Daniel, Vivian, Aravind, Audrey, Anna, Shehan, Manveen, Nanthini, Sheela, Mark, Irfaan, Soong Kit and, of course, Lewis, Michelle, Azam, Khairil, Eileen, Cassie, Keat Meng, Nicholas and Wei Jie : thanks for existing. I love you all, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am that our paths have crossed.
“Live life to the point of tears,” advised Albert Camus. And I can vouch for the fact that, between August the 16th and August the 21st, his recommendation was followed to the letter by over a 100 young men and women in a distant corner of Nilai, who came together to fight a good, no, a great fight in the name of humanity itself. Pesky cynics may squeal miserably that all of us have returned to the routines of our respective lives and that this illuminating experience will soon by eclipsed by the clouds of memory loss and preoccupation with mundane, worldly priorities. Let me silence you with this promise: we refuse to wash our hands of KLIMUN unconsciously. Somewhere, deep within all of our chest cavities, a flame of inspiration has sparked into being. Somewhere in all of our minds, a realization - that, while we thrive, countless others suffer without even a semblance of assistance and subsequently evaporate – has risen and spread like a wildfire to our fingertips and toes. KLIMUN is just the beginning to our lives as agents of change and advocates of awareness. World, watch this space.