FAIZ Qayyuum Abdul Majid's life has been a whirlwind of emotions — love, loss, mistakes and regrets. Sitting across from me in a bustling cafe, he radiates a calm that contrasts sharply with his words.
"There's been a lot going on," he admits, taking a sip of his latte, adding: "But you know what they say, pressure makes diamonds, right?"
When Faiz says there's "a lot going on", he's not referring to his life, which has all the hallmarks of a mind-blowing story of how he turned things around. Instead, he's talking about a recent challenge: creating an e-book in just three days to raise funds for his mission to help Gaza.
He shakes his head and explains wryly: "My friend told me that these days, people don't part with their money without wanting something in return." Rising to the occasion, Faiz filled the book, Suara Hati Pejuang, with short stories and poetry, completing all 140 pages in record time.
"Man!" he exclaims, before adjusting his cap and adding: "That was tough!" Then, with a shrug and another sip of his latte, he repeats: "But people say that, right? Pressure makes diamonds?"
He's not looking for an answer. The immense pressure he faced has undeniably shaped him. His life is a testament to how intense challenges can strip you down and transform you into something remarkable.
The 34-year-old has dedicated himself to serving others as a full-time volunteer with Volunteering Trip Malaysia. This non-governmental organisation offers diverse volunteering opportunities for those eager to make a difference, whether locally or abroad.
"Why volunteer?" I ask curiously.
"Why not?" he counters, before explaining: "If we can do something positive and give hope to someone who needs it, why not do it?"
Again, he's not looking for answers.
"I just want to help people," he continues simply, with another shrug. "I know what it's like to be without hope."
EARLY YEARS
The Semenyih native, the fifth of six children, was raised by his mother after his parents' divorce. "It was hard," he admits quietly, adding: "Growing up was a real struggle. My parents' divorce did affect me. My mother did everything she could to support us, and while my parents were still present in my life, I often felt adrift. Despite their efforts, I think I just lost my way…"
He fell in with a wrong crowd because, with them, he felt accepted for who he was. "They were supportive. Being around them made me feel like I belonged." He pauses, continuing: "But looking back, I realise that this sense of belonging came with a cost."
He skipped school, hung out with his friends, and fell into gangsterism. As he reflects on those days, a shadow of regret crosses his face.
"I was caught up in a lot of negative things," he admits, though he refrains from going into specifics.
At 18, a close friend tried to change his perspective, telling him: "Yes, you've made mistakes, but you can still become a better person." Faiz, however, didn't believe it at the time. "I thought people who did bad things were destined to stay bad."
He stopped studying after his Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia, much to his mother's dismay. "She wanted me to join a private college and further my studies, but I didn't want her to spend money on something I knew I was likely to fail at."
Despite his own personal struggles, the 18-year-old Faiz, encouraged by his sister, decided to join a volunteering programme at Yayasan Salam Malaysia. He was tasked with helping to coordinate an outing for "high-risk children" from Chow Kit to a theatre screening at KLPac. "That was my first experience with volunteering, but I ended up stepping away soon after," he adds.
At 19, he left home and moved to Kuala Lumpur where he worked as a pub bouncer alongside a friend. In 2010, Faiz had his first run-in with the law when he was arrested and charged for assault. "It was a dark time," he says quietly. "I was involved with the wrong crowd. Kes bergaduh..."
He was convicted and sent to prison. "I cried all night that first night," he confesses, voice tinged with the pain of those early days. "The first few weeks were incredibly tough, full of uncertainty and loneliness."
He pauses, reflecting on a surprising lesson he learned. "But I discovered something unexpected: if you approach others with kindness, they often respond with kindness in return. It made a huge difference in how I experienced my imprisonment."
REBUILDING LIFE
Rebuilding his life after prison was incredibly challenging, he acknowledges. "I took on odd jobs and didn't make much money. It was a constant struggle."
On top of that, the stigma of being an ex-prisoner made him distance himself from friends and fellow volunteers he'd met at Yayasan Salam Malaysia. "I avoided everyone. I changed my phone number and deleted all my social media accounts because I was so ashamed!"
"Why?" I ask, astonished. He shrugs and replies softly: "Because I'm a banduan (prisoner)."
He started working at a pasar pagi (morning market) selling santan (coconut milk). His day would start at the crack of dawn, when he'd unload coconuts from the lorry. After that, he had to cut them open, scrape out the flesh, and squeeze it to extract the milk, which he then packed for sale. "My work day was from 3am to 3pm," he recounts, adding with a touch of dry humour, "and my gaji (income) was just RM3.50 a day!"
Another friend came to Faiz's rescue, offering him a job at a (plant) nursery that provided better compensation. He worked there for a while, and his boss became a mentor of sorts, encouraging him to seek out greater opportunities. "He told me I had more potential than just selling plants," Faiz recalls, adding: "He believed I could achieve better things if I stepped out and explored new paths."
Taking this advice to heart, he transitioned to working as a marketeer. However, in 2012, he felt a renewed calling and rejoined the world of volunteering. He became involved with the Reach Out programme, which focuses on distributing food to the homeless in Chow Kit.
LIFE CHANGING
It was in Chow Kit that Faiz began to see life from a new perspective. He encountered communities often judged harshly by society and engaged in genuine conversations with homeless children, streetwalkers, transgender individuals, drug users and pimps. These interactions allowed him to view these marginalised groups with fresh eyes and a deeper understanding.
One incident left a profound impact on him. He encountered three very young children — aged around 3, 7 and 12 — sitting and eating meals handed out by volunteers. "I felt a sudden urge to ask them where they were living," he shares.
The children guided him to a makeshift shack made of plywood, nestled in an empty lot. They lived in the upper part of the structure, while the lower level was occupied by drug users and paedophiles.
The conditions were harsh — the toilet had no door, offering no privacy or protection. What's worse, the 7-year-old had comprehensive knowledge of drugs, how to use them and so on.
"This blew my mind," he says, voice thick with emotion. "What will happen to these children if we don't step in? They represent the future. How could I, as a human being, ignore their suffering?"
In 2012, Faiz made a decisive commitment to charity and became a full-time volunteer. To support himself, he took on a variety of roles, including giving talks and doing odd jobs. His work involved not only engaging in direct volunteer activities but also sharing his experiences and insights to inspire others.
NEW LIFE
Since 2012, Faiz's active involvement in charity work has propelled him into various humanitarian missions. His endeavours include #MisiMafraq in Jordan back in 2017, #RevisitBangladesh, #OhanakeAcheh and #MisiDapurSulawesi in the following year. Through these missions, he has dedicated his efforts to assisting marginalised communities, including refugees, both locally and abroad.
Caring for others, especially those who needed a helping hand, became his primary focus. "I stopped worrying about what people thought of me," he says simply, adding: "I realised that my true concern had to be for humanity."
No challenge was too daunting for Faiz. He tackled everything — from learning how to make DIY sanitary pads and teaching the knowledge to refugees so they could sell them to earn an income, to spearheading local projects at home. His efforts included aiding the homeless and supporting the destitute, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to improving lives in every way he could.
But life took a heartbreaking turn at the end of 2018, when his beloved mother, who'd been one of his staunchest supporters throughout his journey, was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer. "She's the one who pulled me out of my slump. My mother always believed that I could do it when things got tough," he says softly.
He learnt of the devastating news just a week before he left for Palu, Indonesia, to help with the victims of tsunami. "I wanted to cancel the trip but my mum always told me that amanah (trust) was paramount. People had trusted me to go on this trip," he recalls.
Before leaving for Palu, a heavy-hearted Faiz visited his mother in the High-Dependency Ward, knowing he might not see her again.
In Palu, as he stood amidst the wreckage left by the tsunami, Faiz encountered a kakak who shared her harrowing story with him. She recounted how she'd been trapped with her father and children when the tsunami struck, leading to the tragic loss of both her son and father.
Despite her immense grief, she ended her story with a message of gratitude. "Alhamdulillah (Thank God)," she said, "although my son and father perished, I'm still grateful".
She continued: "God gives us both hardship and joy. He tests us to help us grow. There's a reason for everything, and God has a greater plan for each of us. Just be thankful!"
Faiz broke down upon hearing her story.
"It changed the way I thought about God and taught me to always be grateful," he reflects.
He returned to care for his mother, but her passing shortly afterward devastated him. Just two months later, Faiz faced a new struggle: he was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety following a suicide attempt.
Taking a brief hiatus to focus on his mental health, he soon realised that people continued to seek his help. Despite his own struggles, Faiz found solace and purpose in returning to volunteering, drawing strength from his commitment to helping others.
In memory of his mother, Faiz launched Hadiah Untuk Mak, a project dedicated to supporting cancer patients. "This was my gift to her," he says emotionally.
Despite the challenges posed by the global pandemic in 2020, he stayed steadfast in his mission, persistently delivering food and essentials to those in need. As restrictions eased, he sought comfort in activities that brought him joy.
His project, Kembara Buat Baik, took him on a journey across Peninsular Malaysia, blending his passion for helping others with his own process of personal healing and renewal.
In August 2022, Faiz took part in a meaningful project with Fitrah Qaseh, a home for children in Johor. He wrote and directed a theatre performance where the children were fully involved, managing everything from acting to wardrobe and make-up, for a charity dinner. Faiz continues to be actively involved with the home. "It feels like home to me," he says, his face brightening with warmth and affection.
There has been no looking back since.
For Faiz, it's been a journey of self-discovery and realising that he's right in the midst of God's plans. "The challenges were part of God's plans," he insists, smiling. His experiences remind me of how diamonds are formed — under intense pressure and heat, carbon transforms into something brilliant and enduring.
Similarly, his trials have shaped him into a beacon of resilience and compassion.
In his words, there's a profound truth: "Pressure makes diamonds." And indeed, through his struggles and triumphs, Faiz has emerged as a shining example of strength and hope.
For more information on Faiz's projects and his book Suara Hati Pejuang, visit https://vtm.onpay.my/order/form/suarahatipejuangfq