Now she was listening for it, she could hear there was also something in the air, the possibility that this was a crucible, and everything the nation could become was here in this moment. Lina was right. War had levelled everything, and here was a chance to blaze through the world and make it fair again. So much of this was obvious—of course workers ought to own the means of production, of course it was wrong that the people who did the actual labour were least likely to enjoy the fruits. She understood now, that her life had been an exercise in false consciousness. When her mum told her to be grateful for what they had, she now knew this to be propaganda spread by the ruling classes to keep the masses down. What was gratitude but complacency and quiescence? It was imperative to demand more.

She started writing pamphlets. So much of what she read was from China, and society here was different. Using local examples would surely do more to convince the Malayan people of these ideas. The things she said seemed obvious to her, and it was always startling how strongly her comrades responded. She could never put her name to these essays, which had to be copied and distributed in secret, but it was still amazing to think of her words spreading like that.

During their June holidays that year, she convinced the rest of the leadership to try the life of a worker. Didn’t they want to experience the dignity of labour for themselves? How else could they truly understand the conditions they were striving to improve? Besides, they needed to be humble, otherwise there would be nothing setting them apart from the English school elites. She’d read Animal Farm, and knew the main thing in any movement was not to turn into the pigs.