Lce Hui Ling was exposed to environmental and social issues at a young age. Born into a family of artists, she was impressed by the environmental subjects of her mother’s art works and thus developed a pasion for the environment. “As a child, would worry about the ozone layer (臭氧层) expanding, rubbish pollution, and animals going extinct. Very serious topics for a little girl!”

After graduating from the Sarah Lawrence College in New York and moving back to Malaysia, Hui Ling’s conceras for the environment grew. She set up a Greenpeace Malaysia online community on various social media platforms. This was instrumental in the eventual setting up of the Malaysian office in 2017.

Hui Ling helped to organise and lead at meet-ups, as well as run workshops and training. An artist and educator, Hui Ling organised participatory art projects in line with Greenpeace Malaysia campaigns on deforestation, plastic pollution and consumerism. One of them was the Wings of Paradise project, where she led a team of 30 youth volunteers in creating a 64-meter long mural (壁画), showing the essence of the brightly coloured feathers, crazy dances and fantastic behaviours of birds of paradise (天堂鸟). The project aimed to remind the public of the constant threat to this Indonesian wildlife, and inspire people to act to protect it.

“Environmental activism has taught me that doing good is not a sprint, but a marathon, and we need to make ourselves tougher and stronger to keep going through the difficult times,” Hui Ling said. “There is a ray of hope in the youth activism of the last few years. The youths of today are well organised and passionate in expressing their desire for positive change and a green and sustainable future for all.” said Hui Ling.

The walls of our house were supposed to be white. But I never remember them being white. At first, they were gray, then turning black. My father was a coal worker. He made charcoal (木炭) in our house. Have you ever seen charcoal being made? The little bags you buy in the store for barbeque come from somewhere, and honestly, it’s a very dirty business.

I remember one day I was bagging up the charcoal with my dad, and it was really cold and raining. All we had was the tiny roof over our heads. After a few hours, I got to go to school, where it was warm. My dad stayed out, working all day. If he didn’t sell that day, maybe we wouldn’t have enough to eat. I thought to myself: At some point, everything is going to change.

For this, I owe football everything. I started to play football early. I played so much football that every two months, my boots would break apart. When I was seven, I must have been pretty good, because I scored 64 goals for my neighborhood team. That year, my dad got a call from a coach saying they wanted me to play there. My dad asked, “Oh, it’s too far away. Nine kilometers. How will we get him there?” My mom said, “No, no, no! Don’t worry! I’ll take him!” And that is when Graciela was born.

Graciela was an old yellow bicycle that my mother would use to drive me to the training ground every day. It had a little basket in the front. Imagine this: A woman biking through town with a little boy on the back and a bag in the basket with his boots. Up hills. Down hills. Through the dangerous neighborhoods. In the rain. In the cold. In the dark. Graciela got us where we needed to go.

Nowadays, people see me on YouTube, watch the World Cup and witness how I won the competition, but they don’t know the journey. They don’t know about my living room walls turning from white to black. They don’t know about my father working under a little roof. They don’t know about my mother riding Graciela through the rain and the cold.

“ Mayday ! We got Mayday!” Frank Pisano screamed over the microphone to the air control tower at the airport. One of the two engines on his plane had failed，and he was now going down towards one of the busiest highways in America—Interstate 405，just south of Los Angeles—and there was no stopping it.

Driving south on the 405，near the airport’s runway，was John Meffert，a fire department captain. He was heading home from his shift when suddenly a low—flying plane caught his eye. After he took a second glance，a thought crossed his mind: “This plane’s going to hit me.”

He was right. The plane slammed into the road，popped up a few feet，and then clipped the front of Meffert’s car. It finally stopped after hitting the divider(隔栏). Meffert pulled over. He was unhurt，and his car had received only a large scratch，so he turned his attention to the plane. He ran towards the smoke，and then he saw Frank’s wife, Janan Pisano，pop her head up on the passenger side.

By the time Meffert reached the aircraft，part of it was on fire and Janan，who was covered in blood，was on the wing trying to pull her husband from the wreck. Meffert，afraid the plane would explode，guided her to safety behind it. Then，he ran back for Frank，who had been knocked out by the initial crash，lying across both seats.

Meffert carefully positioned himself under the pilot’s arms and lifted him from the cockpit. Then he dragged the pilot off the wing and carried him to safety，where they could see the plane in flames.

The Pisanos spent three weeks in the hospital. Remarkably，Meffert’s car was the only one hit by the plane. Had Meffert been a second or two faster，Frank said，the left propeller(螺旋桨))would have ripped the top off his car and killed him.

“I play all the what-ifs—going slower，going faster. It could have been a very different result，”Meffert said. “We just had a lot of angels.”