This work is originally published by Cahya Mata Sarawak. DayakDaily has been given permission to share this story on our platforms.
By Martin Yee, Kenny Ee, and Marlynda Meraw
INthe summer of 1992 Olympics, beneath the vibrant sun of Barcelona, a Sarawakian athlete entered the taekwondo arena, her heart ablaze with determination. It was there, on the global stage, that Hii King Hung would battle not just for a medal, but for her dreams.
With each kick and strike, she fought fiercely, ultimately earning a bronze medal—a moment that would carve her name into history as the first Sarawakian to achieve such a feat in the Olympics. Though her achievement was framed in the context of a demonstration sport and thus not officially recognised, it was a triumph all the same.
Regardless, for King Hung, the medal transcended mere recognition; it embodied her personal triumph. She had proven to herself that she could rise to the challenge on the grandest stage. Though her return home lacked the fanfare she might have imagined, the warmth of her welcome was a treasure she held dear.
At the Kuching airport, now known as Kuching International Airport (KIA), a gathering of proud supporters embraced King Hung in a warm welcome, her Olympic medal gleaming around her neck—a radiant proof of her relentlessness.
“I was garlanded, and for me, that was enough,” King Hung recalled. The medal may not have been officially recognised, but in her heart, it was the summit of a lifetime of effort.
The world embraced King Hung in January 1971, with her arrival marking the beginning of a life defined by defiance, courage, and relentlessness. Even as a child, she felt the irresistible call of combat sports, a passion that ignited her spirit despite her father’s reservations, like those of many others who believed such a brutal arena was no place for a daughter.
Yet King Hung held fast to her dreams, visions that would one day propel her far beyond the unassuming mats in Sibu and onto the grandest stage of all: the Olympics. Her journey, fraught with challenges, was one of transformation, where the fire within her would ultimately light the path to her extraordinary destiny.
Her journey in taekwondo began as a schoolgirl when a friend persuaded her to join the combat club at Sekolah Menengah Bantuan (SMB) Chung Hua. What started as mere curiosity soon grew into a passion that consumed her every day. King Hung trained tirelessly, honing her technique, her power, and mental strength. It wasn’t long before she outshone her peers, standing taller with each victory. Long-distance running, basketball, and netball filled her school years, but it was taekwondo that created the spark.
By 1989, that fire carried her to the first Malaysian Games (Sukma) in Kuala Lumpur, where she struck gold in taekwondo. That victory wasn’t just a medal—it was a declaration. A beacon that marked the beginning of something far greater. It caught the attention of many, including the late Datuk Taha Ariffin, who encouraged her to compete in silat as well.
In 1990, King Hung and her teammate Shirley Wong became the first Chinese silat champions in their respective categories during the Sarawak Sukma. Despite this, King Hung’s true calling was taekwondo, and she made the difficult decision to focus solely on the sport that had claimed her heart.
Yet, the path to glory is seldom without its trials. Following her triumph in the Barcelona Olympics, King Hung encountered the harsh sting of disappointment. Her dreams of competing in the World Championships slipped away, thwarted by the absence of a gold medal at the Southeast Asian (SEA) Games. A silver was deemed insufficient, overshadowed by what King Hung believed to be the bias of judging that favoured the home opponent. In that moment of personal heartbreak, she bore the weight of her unfulfilled aspirations quietly, the ache lingering long after the cheers had faded.
Disillusioned by the creeping shadows of politics within the sport she once loved, King Hung made the painful decision to step away from taekwondo. It was not defeat that led her to this moment, but it was the sagacity of knowing when to let go. With her head held high and the bronze medal from the 1992 Olympics as a cherished keepsake of her battle-worn journey, she walked away—grateful, yet knowing her chapter had come to an end.
Though she never returned to the mats, King Hung’s legacy continues to resonate, a vibrant inspiration woven through the triumphs of the younger athletes who followed in her footsteps. The same fierce fire that once ignited her spirits still burns brightly, now warming her in a new light—as a woman who has ascended to heights few ever dared to dream.
The bronze medal may not be an official mark of Olympic success, but it was her crowning achievement. A reminder that in the pursuit of greatness, the journey matters more than the title and the heart of an Olympian can never truly be measured by the weight of metal alone. –DayakDaily
