After years of scholarship rejections and setbacks, a UiTM lecturer finally earned a prestigious PhD scholarship at the University of Newcastle, Australia. His journey reflects perseverance, relentless effort, faith in Allah’s plan, and the belief that every rejection may lead to something far better than what was originally hoped for.
There is a moment, after years of rejection, when hope begins to feel like a burden. I knew that moment well.
I was the only Malaysian to receive the International Postgraduate Research Scholarship (IPRS) from the University of Newcastle, Australia – a three-year scholarship to fund my PhD in the Faculty of Business and Law. When the letter arrived, I felt a surge of joy, then a strange humility. I remember looking up and whispering a prayer of thanks to Allah. My long wait had finally been answered.
But the journey to that letter was paved with closed doors.
I had wanted to pursue a PhD overseas since completing my master's degree. Scholarship after scholarship slipped through my fingers – New Zealand, Japan, Germany, the UK, MARA. As a lecturer at UiTM, I needed permanent status before I could even apply. When I finally secured my post, I applied. Denied. I applied again. This time, I was successful – but the offer was not what I had sought. It was only for a local university. My dream of bringing my family abroad with me seemed to shatter.
Two near-misses cut deepest.
The first was Germany. DAAD told me I could only receive funding if I first secured a PhD position at a German university. I reached out to several business schools, but my research area – a hybrid of business and environmental management – fell into an academic no-man's land. No supervisor would take me. Finding the right supervisor was the barrier, not language.
The second was MARA's Skim Pelajar Cemerlang. The University of Bradford accepted me unconditionally, but Bradford was ranked 22nd in the UK. MARA's cut-off was the top 20. I would have had to give up my permanent post at UiTM – a price I was willing to pay. But that narrow ranking margin stood in my way.
Meanwhile, I watched my colleagues chase promotions before further study. I found it puzzling. For me, a lecturer without a PhD was incomplete. I threw myself into conferences, research, and papers – activities not yet compulsory, activities most avoided. I travelled from Sabah to Perlis, presenting my work, often the only one from my faculty doing so.
Just a few months after joining UiTM, I applied for Rancangan Latihan Kakitangan Akademik (RLKA) at USM. The interview took place in the Chancellery Building, perched on a hill. One panel member – a man with thick, black-framed glasses – asked me, "Why do you want to study overseas?" I answered honestly: to improve my spoken English. He shook his head. "You can do that in Malaysia," he said. I shouldn’t have said that. I believed they wanted me to answer from a human resources perspective, or something related to academia, rather than to brush up on my English. I was not selected.
One rejection followed another. Even UiTM's own scholarship turned me down. My appeal to convert a local offer into an overseas one was dismissed by the study leave committee.
I began to accept my fate. I accepted the local scholarship. If this was my path, so be it – at least I had tried. I postponed my PhD registration at Lestari, UKM, for one semester, clutching at a final thread.
Then, a door cracked open.
I had been corresponding with a lecturer at Curtin University in Western Australia. I discovered him through a journal article he had written on green business, my exact interest. I told him about my struggles with my scholarship. When I shared my local-only offer, he replied with a single word: commiserate. Then he offered something unexpected. He was moving to the University of Newcastle the following semester. "Apply there," he said. "I will support you."
I applied online through Newcastle's portal. And I succeeded.
But there was a strange twist. When the offer letter arrived, none of my supervisors was the man who had encouraged me. They were someone else entirely. I never learned why – but I learned to trust the mystery.
Looking back, I see now that Allah's plan was better than my own. If I had gone to Germany, my wife and children could not have followed. Australia, with its English-speaking environment and family-friendly policies, was the better fit all along.
Later, one of my supervisors, Dr Loong Wong, explained my selection. "The committee saw your potential," he said. "They read your proposal, conference papers, and your journal article. You proved you could finish." I couldn’t agree more. I attended more conferences than anyone else at UiTM Dungun. I had worked relentlessly, not because I was required to, but because I believed.
What I have learned is this: we are at the mercy of Allah, but mercy does not excuse effort. We must work hard. We must become competent so that when opportunity comes, we are ready to seize it. And when our wishes are denied, we must trust that a better wish is being woven for us – one we cannot yet see.
Later, you will know the reasons. I know them now.
