Page 24 - 伊利沙伯中學舊生會湯國華中學

Pegasus Cup Writing Competition 2025-2026 - Gold

The Lesson l Learnt from a Tragedy
The Lesson l Learnt from a Tragedy

5D Chinsom Pui Sze

It is a visceral understanding that safety is an active, daily practice, not a passive guarantee.
Before, fire safety was only an occasional thought. I had a smoke detector that was beeping
because the battery was low. I kept saying I would replace it tomorrow. I also had a hallway that
was really cluttered. I meant to clean it up. Then, the tragedy at Wang Fuk Court in Tai Po occurred.
It made me realize that I was not taking fire safety seriously enough. When I heard about all the
things that went wrong in Tai Po, like a wire and a door that was propped open, and a path that
was blocked, it really scared me. Fire safety is something you have to think about all the time. I
found out that a catastrophe is not something that happens out of the blue but a consequence
of our negligence. It is like a chain reaction where every little thing I do or do not do can make a
difference. Neglecting even the smallest detail can bring the entire system closer to failure, which
gives me a strong sense of responsibility. Now, I pay much closer attention to my daily choices,
such as how I charge my devices, what I keep by the door, and whether I notice things that need
fixing around my building. I see these choices as things that can either help keep me safe or put
me at risk. The “Swiss Cheese Model” is no longer an abstract concept; it is a lens through which I
view my own home and building, and it compels me to act.
This shift has changed how I see my community. In a city of anonymous tall buildings, I used to
be the neighbour who kept to herself. But the fire taught me that in an emergency, the people right
next to us are the first line of defence. My mindset has shifted from isolated concern to a sense
of interconnected guardianship. I no longer see our shared corridor as just a walkway; it is a vital
communal artery that must stay clear. I make it a point to know which neighbours are elderly and
which families have young children. The thought of someone being trapped because no one knew
to check for them haunts me. Our safety is woven together; my vigilance protects them, and theirs
protects me.

Admittedly, there is a certain sadness in losing the innocent belief that "it couldn't happen
here." I used to live with the comfortable assumption that disasters only happened elsewhere.
However, I now feel a greater sense of control because I am prepared.
My family and I have sat down to map out our emergency escape routes and discuss various
scenarios. We ensured our fire extinguisher is easily accessible and confirmed that everyone—from
the youngest to the oldest—recognizes the sound of the building’s alarm. We no longer leave our
safety to chance.
This preparation isn’t born of fear, but of profound respect. Respect for the speed at which a
disaster can move, the fragility of the systems we rely on, and the immense value of the ordinary,
peaceful days we wish to protect. By being ready for anything, I am not just guarding against a
threat; I am honouring the life and family I hold dear.

The lesson from Wang Fuk Court is etched in my mind not as a
distant news story, but as a permanent shift in perspective. It taught me
that in our dense, modern world, the most meaningful form of care is
often preventative: the small, consistent acts of attention that, stitch by
stitch, strengthen the fabric of our shared safety. The feeling it leaves me
with is a resolve to be a responsible link in the chain, for in that collective
effort lies our only true security.

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