KUALA LUMPUR, Jan 17 — “Courage,” said JK Rowling in an interview on what she felt was the most invaluable quality in humankind. “It is very hard to have courage, and sadly not many people have it.”
After equipping my bag with notebooks and pens, I left my flat to conduct my first ever interview as part of my university assignment.
I chose “Major Zaidi” as a “Fascinating character to interview” for my nournalism module. I haven’t thought much about it. It just felt intuitive in light of the recent news — he was in fact a person who fascinated me.
“Assalamu 'Alaikum.” I repeated this greeting a few times while gently tapping on the gate to alert the owners. Growing up in Shah Alam, greeting “Assalamu 'Alaikum” had always made me feel more welcomed.
“Waalaikumsalam, waalaikumsalam!” Shafinah rushed out hastily, tidying the sides of her headscarf as she unlocks the gate. “Sorry for letting you wait, I was on the phone with my mother.”
“You must be James, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled at her.
As I stepped into the house after removing my shoes, I was drawn by the serenity of the place. There is a sense of stillness that calmed my nerves down a little bit. It is, after all, my first interview.
“If you don’t mind, James, please have a seat here. Zaidi is still in his prayers, he shall be out not long now.”
Before Shafinah could pull out a seat for me, a tall and lanky man appeared from upstairs.
“James!” Major Zaidi greeted me like we have met before, and I grew more sheepish instantly. “How are you, today? Thank you for coming.”
After the handshake, he carried his 5-year old daughter into his arms when she rushed to him. It seems like the child will never outgrow this father’s intimate affections.
I started the conversation with just an itineration of the events that led to where he was today. I asked him basic questions about the background and the chronology of the indelible ink incident so that the “academic” part of my assignment was quickly covered.
“I was lucky. I used to always admire fighter jets that flew above my head when I was fishing near a river at my kampong at Kedah,” Major Zaidi said with pride in his eyes. “I knew I wanted to be a pilot, and I was lucky to have a career.”
Having contributed to the Royal Malaysian Air Force (RMAF) for over 25 years, Major Zaidi was an accomplished fighter pilot who was respected and admired by all. I wonder if it was humility that made him not mention the time he was assigned a special duty to Bosnia in 1995. Perhaps the memory of serving the air force was treated with a bittersweet construction, as many friends he treated as family had not been the same since he reported the deficient indelible ink to the police in 2013.
Memory, after all, is a tool to reconstruct not just the past, but history itself.
“I knew it was going to be a hard decision,” he nodded to himself as if recalling the exact event of that day. “But when I knew I had the support of my wife and family, we knew that it was the right decision.”
Shafinah smiled shyly beside her husband. Shafinah Abdul Hamid was a technician at the Royal Malaysian Air Force. She maintained her support for her husband unconditionally. “Working at the same place certainly helps us understand each other more.”
“How did you prepare for what was about to come?” I asked.
“I don’t, really. I still pray five times a day, maybe a little harder each time, with my family. I pray that people will see the truth.” He continued. “And I believe the truth will prevail.”
There was no sign of regret in his eyes. His children looked up to him and he reciprocated this appreciation with more affection.
Their house was homely. The small space filled their family adequately; the Quranic verses are framed on the walls, and the books were furnished on the shelves.
Behind the man of an awkward public image who strikes a “V sign” to all cameras, is a family man, who appreciates his wife and family, and a religious man who encourages to live an Islamic life by example.
He told me he also valued friendship and integrity greatly, and without telling, I could remember reading about the rare occasion when he raised his voice at his former colleague, Colonel Saadoon Hassan, in the military court, who he felt betrayed him. “We shall meet at the Court of Allah!” as he reportedly said. He was also recounted as saying that he would not want to appeal an unreasonable decision as he maintained his innocence, and would only accept the fate of Allah.
“Major Zaidi, many people admire you for doing what you felt right. You had no other interest than to exercise your right as a responsible citizen. How did you find such courage?”
“Oh,” he laughed off the compliment, “I hope it will never be about me.”
“I think courage is about doing the right thing and your relationship with God. If it feels right and you could explain to God what you did that day before you sleep, then that is the courage in you.” Major Zaidi finished with a smile and a pat on his wife’s arm. They were always holding on to each other. Tough times had taught them a little bit more about what it meant to have each other by their sides.
I was immensely drawn by this man’s deep sense of righteousness. I felt that I needed to let this last question off of my chest, as I closed my notebook.
“Is it hard for you… all of these?” I tried to convey my empathy.
“Nothing lasts forever, son.” He showed me his index finger, uncovered with blue ink.
*This is a fictional account of meeting Major Zaidi. The writer is a second-year law student. You can reach him on Twitter at @JamesJSChai
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail Online.
