“Walking into Angsana for the first time, I didn’t know what to expect,” he says. “It’s not a rehab, not a hospital, but a welfare home for men who have really lost everything. They live under a strict routine with limited freedom. Some are alcoholics, some have other issues, but all of them are facing incredible hardship. For many, it’s their last stop.”

Angsana, run by the Thye Hua Kwan Moral Society, houses around 200 residents and provides shelter, medical care, counselling and vocational support for men who have nowhere else to turn. Many arrive with long histories of addiction, homelessness or social isolation. For them, the home is both a refuge and, in some cases, a final safety net. Into this environment, AA volunteers bring a meeting every Friday evening, offering a chance for residents to hear

One of my favourite commitments was actually chair finder, going out to invite people to share their experience at meetings. It may sound small, but it mattered. Those were the first things that helped me feel useful again.”

Over time, those early tasks grew into a pattern of service that has become the backbone of his sobriety. He has served in meetings and intergroups in different countries, sponsored newcomers, and chaired

stories of recovery, and perhaps to begin their own.

The set-up is simple: a quiet room, plastic chairs arranged in a circle, and a handful of readings on the table. Around 6:45, residents begin to filter in, usually eight or nine men, sometimes more, sometimes fewer. A volunteer opens the meeting, someone shares their story, and residents are welcome to participate if they wish. The only tradition set aside is the Seventh, since residents cannot contribute financially.

In every other aspect, it is an AA meeting, with the same spirit of honesty and hope that members find in groups outside the home. “Some weeks the men sit silently, listening carefully to every word,” he says. “Other weeks, they open up; about their drinking, about their struggles, about what it feels like to live in a place like this. You never know which way it will go, but that’s the beauty of it. What matters is that we show up, week after week, so they know they’re not forgotten.”

Building trust takes time. Many residents carry years of pain, isolation, and disappointment. Reintegration into society is possible, but not always easy. Against this backdrop, progress is measured differently. Sometimes success means a resident keeps coming back, even if he never speaks. Sometimes it’sa few quiet sentences after weeks of silence. “One of the men came to the meetings week after week without saying a word,” he remembers.

“Then one evening he shared for the first time. It was only a few sentences, but you could feel the relief in the room. Everyone knew it had taken courage. That’s the kind of moment that keeps us going.”

member. Service should be about helping others, not controlling everything. Balance and flexibility are key.” That honesty, he has learned, keeps service sustainable. It strengthens sobriety rather than straining it.

Service at Angsana has reshaped how he understands recovery. “It’s not about fixing anyone,” he reflects. “I can’t control what happens after they leave the meeting; some might never come back. But I can show up, share my story and offer what was freely given to me. The truth is, I get as much out of it as they do, maybe more. It reminds me of where I came from, and it keeps me grounded in gratitude.”

His commitments also extend beyond Angsana. He has worked with the Health, Information, Publicity, and Prison Information Committee (HIPPI), helping to bring the AA message into hospitals, prisons, and treatment centers. He contributes to Intergroup planning and is part of preparations for the Asia Pacific service meeting, which Singapore will host later this year. “Service takes so many forms,” he says. “It might be pouring tea at a meeting, speaking at a hospital or helping to organise an international event. It all matters. Every act of service keeps the fellowship alive and keeps me sober.”

That gratitude extends into the way he now approaches service more broadly. In the past, he sometimes found himself stretched thin, saying yes to every opportunity. Today, he tries to strike a balance. “I’ve never felt burned out by AA, but I do try to be careful not to overcommit,” he explains. “With sponsorship, for instance, if I don’t have the capacity, I’ll connect a newcomer with another

Looking ahead, he plans to continue coordinating the volunteer schedule at Angsana, mentoring new members who want to get involved, and exploring fresh opportunities for outreach. What stands out most to

him is not the variety of roles but the spirit that runs through them all. “AA gave me a new life,” he says simply. “Service is how I say thank you. The miracle is that every time I give something away, I seem to get even more in return.” For him, the weekly walk into Angsana is a reminder of why service matters. It’s not glamorous. It’s not always easy. But it is deeply human: one alcoholic reaching out to another, carrying the message of hope and keeping the chain of recovery unbroken.