This has been a story nearly a year in the telling, but decades in the making; and for indulging me in this tale, I thank you, dear readers.
The work before you is the result of many hands, and though I shall not name them individually, I thank them all for their diligence, their humour, and most especially their record-keeping. These files will soon be locked away again, perhaps to appear decades hence in a museum or archive; or perhaps not at all. That depends on the declassification dates in some cases.
Some time, and very soon, Najib Razak and Anwar Ibrahim will face off one last time. The result rests in the hands of those men and women – including my children – who have lived through Anwar’s time, and who now perhaps have a fuller vision of the man.
Who is Anwar Ibrahim? A street brawler turned politician? A Saudi-backed and –inspired theocrat? A lover of literature? A man who dreamed of leadership, but never understood or exercised it? A perpetual victim of his own sins as much as anyone else’s?
I realise as I commit these final words to my computer that even now, I do not know the answer to this except to say that the answer to all of these is yes – but that even that answer is qualified by Anwar’s desire, at heart, to be everything to everyone; and that paradoxically, he could never be, because in his core, he has nothing.
And I? I am an old man, my days of excitement long behind me. I find I am weary of this tale, though satisfied that I have completed it. It is time to return to my beautiful wife, and growing my fortune for her and my children, and the joy of retirement.
–J.S.
Kuala Lumpur, 8 February 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment