People Who
Shaped Me

Dr. Phil was the kind of leader who made you feel that the institution existed for the people in it — not the other way around. He founded and built the Madinat Zayed and Ruwais campuses from the ground up, and I was fortunate to be part of that journey.

What I remember most is not the meetings or the milestones — it is the get-togethers. The leisure outings. The events that he personally arranged so his team could breathe, laugh and connect as human beings. When things were difficult, he did not issue memos — he sat with you, listened, and sent you back feeling ten feet tall.

He once told me that a leader's real job is to grow the people around them. Everything he did proved that he meant it.

Trevor always noticed. When everyone else was busy with their own work, Trevor would stop, watch, and say something that made you realise he had been paying attention all along. He appreciated dedication and courtesy in a way that felt genuine — not managerial, but human.

I will never forget one particular night at the Hilton Beach in Fujairah. A country song evening — Trevor brought his guitar, and when he started playing, the whole room changed. I have been a fan of country music for as long as I can remember, and that night felt like a gift I had not expected.

He is in Queensland now, and the distance has never changed who he is. Some people are just the same wherever they go.

Elizabeth is the kind of person who stays in touch not out of obligation but because she genuinely wants to know how you are doing. Even now — years after HCT, years after Concordia — she checks in. Asks about the family. Asks about the work. Listens to the answers.

She believed deeply in empowerment. Not just the word — the real thing. Watching someone grow and quietly making sure they had what they needed to do so. She did that for many people, including me. She is one of the rare ones who loves progress in others more than recognition for herself.

Dr. Marwin treated me less like a staff member and more like a partner. That word means something specific — it means trust, respect and a belief that the person across from you has something worth listening to.

We shared a love of country music — my collection and his appreciation for it created a bond that extended well beyond any formal working relationship. He gave me the kind of respect that you do not forget, no matter how many years pass.

Dr. Bill came after Dr. Marwin Lane as Director of HCT Fujairah — and our time together there ended the same way it began: with the two of us heading in different directions. He went to the United States. I went to the Western Region. But what happened in between is something I will never forget.

Dr. Bill was ex-Air Force military. To keep his flying licence active, he flew a Cessna — and he used to take me with him. Up in the air over the UAE, looking down at the desert and the coast, the world looked completely different.

That is how I got my first flight lesson certificate. Not from a flight school. From a colleague who trusted me enough to put me beside him in the cockpit.

On the ground, he was equally remarkable. I remember the day he asked me to take him out in my Nissan Patrol Y60 — white — across the sand dunes. He loved it. The desert, the 4x4, the freedom of it. A man who had flown aircraft still found genuine joy in a different kind of adventure.

In our small talks, he always said the one thing that redirected my thinking. A great advisor does not give instructions — he asks the right question and lets you find your own answer. That was Dr. Bill, every time.

Dr. Hesham did something that very few people in a position of authority ever do — he found my credibility and acted on it. He did not just acknowledge what I could do. He trusted me with it completely.

He appointed me as the main contact for CERT in the Western Region — responsible for running IELTS examinations across HCT Western Region campuses. This was not a small thing. IELTS under the British Council demands precision, integrity and absolute reliability. He placed all of that in my hands.

What made his trust exceptional was the context. CERT staff changed frequently — people came and went. But I remained. And Dr. Hesham recognised that consistency as something worth building on. He gave me full authority because he believed I would honour it.

That kind of trust — given clearly and without conditions — changes how you work. It raises your standard to meet theirs. I carried every examination in the Western Region as if my name alone was responsible for it. Because in many ways, it was.

Years later, he is Director of Academic Programs at UAE Ministry of Interior Police College — and he still responds to a LinkedIn message as if no time has passed at all.

Aidan is a quiet observer. He sees everything, registers everything — but does not announce it. That kind of attention is both rare and reassuring. With Aidan, you always knew that the important things were being noticed, even when nothing was said.

What I appreciate most is the timelessness of our connection. We can pick up a conversation as if we spoke yesterday — even when years have passed. That kind of relationship does not need maintenance. It simply exists, steady and reliable, like a good piece of ground to stand on.

Mike is the person who found me. That is the simplest way to say it. He saw something, recognised something, and took the decision to bring me to Fujairah. The entire trajectory of my HCT career — and everything that followed — begins with that one act of faith from one person.

I remember him in the staffroom once, talking to colleagues, and he referenced me in a way that was completely his own — enthusiastic, warm, utterly unfiltered. His affection for the people he believed in was total and unconcealed.

Mike, if you ever read this — wherever you are — thank you. You changed the map.

Robson brought a different perspective to everything — sharp, thoughtful, always with an eye on what was coming next. His path from senior faculty at HCT to co-directing an organic protein solution company in Brisbane tells you everything about the kind of mind he has.

A person who does not stop learning, does not stop building, does not stop seeing possibilities — that was Robson then, and I am certain it is Robson now.

Blaizy and George are one of those rare couples where both individuals bring their own distinct strength — and together they create something even more remarkable.

They have always admired not just the work but the way the work gets done. They appreciate what Keralites sometimes call jugad — the practical intelligence of finding the simplest, most elegant solution to a complicated problem. My style of getting things done easily and well — they saw it, named it and valued it.

George brings the precision and discipline of decades in industrial operations in the Gulf. Blaizy brings the vision — The Farm Story is proof of that — a beautiful project that reminds you that the best things grow quietly, with patience and the right conditions.

Their support has been steady across distance and time — the kind of belief that does not require regular reminders or formal occasions. It simply exists, warm and consistent, like Kerala rain after a long summer.