June 17, 1997

(Page E-1 )
 
Schooled for success: Malaya Sap Graduate has more than the usual reasons to be proud
 
Susan Gembrowski
STAFF WRITER
 
Malaya Sap
 
While her Serra High School classmates participated in pre-graduation ceremonies, Malaya Sap twirled her long, dark hair into a bun and slipped into her tan police cadet uniform.
 
She skipped the baccalaureate speeches, because working with the cadets
fulfilled a commitment she had vowed to keep.
 
Malaya's family immigrated from Cambodia in 1984, and no one else in her
family has graduated from high school.
 
Three years ago, when she was hanging with friends who were gang members,
she almost slipped off the path she had set for herself. But because of the
cadets, a caring Serra High counselor and her own determination, she
refused to join a gang.
 
Her goal is to become a police officer. But first she wants to finish
college and earn a law degree. Toward that goal, she'll go to Mesa College
for basic education classes, then hopes to transfer to UCSD.
 
"If I work hard enough, I know I can do this," she said. "I want to be the
top gun of law."
 
Her escape from war-torn Cambodia at age 4 with her parents and older
sister is a distant memory. Still, she knows that her graduation fulfills
their dream as well as her own.
 
As the only Asian woman in the 70-member San Diego police cadet program,
Malaya has taken the less-traveled road more times than not.
 
She could have gone into the gang. Instead, she joined a club at school
during her sophomore year to help solve racial conflicts on the Tierrasanta
campus.
 
The club was started when Serra counselor Ed Duenez observed the
potentially explosive atmosphere on the school campus as students
congregated in separate ethnic groups at lunch. To address the problem, he
sought individual group leaders.
 
Instead of continuing the name-calling and confrontations, the Asian,
Latino, black and white students formed a club. Malaya, then 15, was
elected president. (The San Diego Union-Tribune published a story in
January about the A.B.C. Club, which stands for A Better Community, A
Better Campus, Always Better Choices.)
 
On campus, "We were the so-called gangsters," Malaya said. "If A.B.C.
hadn't interrupted my path, I would have been more gangster than I was."
 
Rather than look for trouble, students could go to club meetings at
lunchtime. It gave them a sense of belonging.
 
They raised money for community projects, including adopting a destitute
family during the holiday season and helping the mother of a boy who needed
a lung transplant. They became popular speakers at elementary schools and
to adult groups on ways to help kids stay out of gang life.
 
"It's known now that bad kids can do good things, too," Malaya said, proud
of A.B.C.'s accomplishments.
 
Even with her club responsibilities, at the start of her junior year, she
began ditching school and hanging out at night on the street.
 
"Eleventh grade was bad," Malaya said. "That's when I started driving. I
was with my gang friends more, and lying to my parents. I told them I was
doing school stuff."
 
She had a choice to make -- the police cadets, or friends on the street.
 
"For me, the gang wasn't it. In a corner of my mind, I had it set that I
wanted to graduate from high school."
 
Malaya had joined the cadet program shortly after her 16th birthday in
August 1995. The 16- to 21-year-olds learn police procedures, direct
traffic at community events and sometimes serve as decoys in undercover
alcohol or cigarette buys and at pawn-shop sales.
 
"I've always lived in East San Diego," Malaya said. "There's helicopters
out at night. You've got to watch yourself. I'm used to living on the edge
and risking your life."
 
Malaya lives with her family -- grandfather, older sister and
brother-in-law, parents, two brothers and three other sisters -- in two
houses on a single lot in City Heights. The windows are covered with
security bars.
 
Her brother-in-law, Bochoom Vilitchai, works 14 hours a day at two jobs to
pay the mortgage. Malaya's older sister works at a manufacturing plant.
Both of her parents receive welfare.
 
The back house, where Malaya shares a room with her 15-year-old sister,
Sara, is a melting pot of American life and Cambodian roots.
 
The floors are wood. Black, flannel-like cloth couches surround a
black-and-chrome coffee table. A shrine to Buddha adorns one wall.
 
"Every Asian house has one," Malaya said, although her parents aren't
particularly religious.
 
Malaya is a Mormon, as is her grandfather.
 
Sommay Thip, her mother, is 49. Her family owned a rice farm in Cambodia.
Sap Bao, her father, is 56. He was in the military.
 
The marriage was arranged by their families. It has lasted 33 years.
 
On the night before Malaya's graduation, the family prepared for the
celebratory party to be held afterward.
 
Her mom sat in front of two large green plastic tubs, grating papaya to
stuff into chicken pieces. Numerous aunts, cousins and Malaya's sisters
wandered in and out helping with the cooking.
 
Mixing Thai and Cambodian words, as Malaya translated, her mother said she
would do whatever she could "to make sure my children will graduate from
high school."
 
Once, in eighth grade, Malaya was late with a project. She was up half the
night trying to finish it. Her mother was there, "giving me water and
definitely encouragement," Malaya said.
 
"She'll always make time for us. My dad, too. He's always saying, `See
those bums out there? If you don't concentrate, you'll be like that.' "
 
Her parents are studying to become citizens. They meet with their teacher
every Saturday and Sunday at an Asian temple. Malaya is confident she will
pass the citizenship test, which she'll take when she turns 18 this summer.
 
As her mother cooked for the graduation party, the smallest Sap children
and their cousin wrapped green and white crepe paper over the poles in the
concrete patio between the family's two homes.
 
They want to help as Malaya helped them each night during the school year.
 
"I took it upon myself to see that my younger siblings do well in school,"
she said. "I correct their homework and test them on their spelling.
Neither of my parents had much education."
 
It's important to the family to hold on to each other. Malaya's mother
remembers with sorrow how she was separated from her oldest daughter,
Sayvilay, now 31, for three years in Cambodia.
 
The Khmer Rouge often took children from their parents during the war,
Malaya said, but the Sap family was lucky. They got her sister back when
she was 12.
 
On June 11, Malaya Sap graduated from Serra High School.
 
Her family sat together on the bleachers in the football stadium. Malaya
wore a white robe, because she graduated with honors. She has a 3.5
grade-point average and took the most advanced English and math classes in
her senior year.
 
At her graduation party, her siblings and cousins surrounded her as she
talked to them about her joy at being a high school graduate.
 
"If I can lead you guys that way, I will," she promised.
 
Her mother has said it was a long walk from Cambodia into Thailand, where
the family lived for more than a year before they boarded an airplane for
the United States.
 
Sommay Thip hopes her daughter, Malaya, will travel even farther.
 
 
 
Copyright Union-Tribune Publishing Co.