Our ex-prime minister Abdullah Ahmad Badawi passed away recently. Al-Fatihah and my sincerest condolences to his family. Their grief is truly shared by the nation.

I didn’t know Abdullah personally. I only knew him from the stuff I read or heard, some good, some bad – such are stories about any politician, dead or alive.

I saw him enough times when he was in politics, both as prime minister and earlier, just like millions of others. It’s absolutely nothing to brag about.

Here’s a secret – I don’t get calls or messages from whistleblowers or informants or political operatives, or get to meet them in smoky rooms or basement car parks for some juicy political exposé

As in most other things, I prefer to be deranged or deluded or dystopian purely by my own efforts, and I’m mostly happy not to be connected or corrected. So, you won’t hear any stories from me about the “Fourth Floor Boys”, though, if push comes to shove, I can invent some juicy stuff just like anybody else.

Personal glory

I did have one small moment of personal glory with Abdullah.

Years ago, I got to represent my company’s CEO at a big dinner to accept a big award for our company. My CEO was by nature a bit of a recluse, and always hated to be out in public for such events.

As you may have guessed, he wasn’t a Malaysian. Malaysians don’t miss such events, especially when some big VIPs are involved, but would even invent such events so they can prance around with these big cheeses.

My company then was controlled by an MNC from Europe, but was also listed on the Malaysian bourse. So, we were both a bit European and Malaysian in culture and style.

My boss led a business transformation that is talked about even today. Now I know transformation is a cheap word thrown around a lot by CEOs and poseurs alike, which is unfortunate.

But ours was a true transformation, taking a company not much respected into a powerhouse within a few short years, and along the way multiplying share prices without any of the usual Malaysian stock market shenanigans. The company has remained strong to this day, a testament to the success of the transformation carried out.

Dressing the part

We won a lot of awards, including this one, a big enough award to be presented by the prime minister himself at a fancy hotel ballroom. For the life of me, though, I can’t remember the name of the award or the occasion.

I went to the event dressed in formal business attire, which meant something better than my usual round-neck t-shirt and faded jeans. Instead I had a nice pair of jeans on, a proper shirt and jacket, but no tie.

This may not sound very strange or revolutionary today, but this was 2007 or thereabouts. Nobody among business head honchos or top civil servants wore jeans or went without a tie. None.

At the event, I was getting increasingly nervous thinking I may have gone too far with my attire and offended somebody there. I wasn’t worried about the Datuk and Tan Sri CEOs present: I can fake confidence with the best or worst of them.

But I was worried about offending the big government bosses, and especially Pak Lah, as he was and is affectionately known. That would’ve been bad for me, and especially bad for the company I represented, which would’ve been unacceptable.

When the time came and our company’s name was called out, I strutted out confidently as if I owned the whole place, while feeling slightly weak at the knees out of nervousness.

The PM’s reaction

I reached the podium where Pak Lah was standing, shook his hand and accepted the award, posed for the inevitable pictures, and went back to my table.

He didn’t seem impressed by my attire, but neither did he seem offended. I’m pretty sure I saw a twinkle in his eyes, but those twinkles are quite common in people of good heart and character. Basically, there was no reaction on his part on my sartorial elegance, or lack thereof.

And there went my moment of glory. Back at the office we put the trophy in a storeroom somewhere and forgot about it, as I have now. We had a strong belief that you celebrate an award for a microsecond, and move on.

Given that this is not about me, that’s enough about that award, whatever it was. This is about Pak Lah the human being, about whom I know even less than of Pak Lah the politician and leader.

A gentle soul

I felt gratified to hear stories of his gentleness and kind soul from many ordinary people. They’re not the usual laudatory statements about other passing political leaders, where you know the sincerity meter was probably reading very low.

That’s how I see him, too. I know enough about politics to know he wasn’t a great mover and shaker of things, and that he could probably have done more here and there.

But he came after 22 years of way too much excitement concerning our political leadership; the steadiness and especially the decency and respect he brought were much needed, and appreciated.

He wasn’t heard of much after his retirement, though we knew he was suffering from some of the usual old-age maladies. And then one day, he was gone.

Integrity above all

It was sad to see the closing of the chapter on another decent human being, another example of the “old Malay” gentleman, a fair and decent type who truly believes in Malaysia being a home for all of us, and not just a bank account to be plundered.

At the end of the day, my respect for a person’s earthly achievements, whether in power or wealth or notoriety, pales in comparison to the person’s integrity and decency as a human being.

There are too few of such people, especially in today’s more fractured and polarised world, and the passing of one such leader is a reminder of how our country is a little bit poorer for it, even if our vaults are piled ever higher with wealth.

In a world where you can be anybody, it isn’t a bad thing to be remembered the way Pak Lah is remembered.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.