19 November 1999

Dear Diary,

I thought I would start off the morning with my prayers, but then decided against it. One day, I shall ask Allah for forgiveness for my sins, but not now. The business is still not yet finished. So, instead, I spent the time practising walking with a bad back, because that is my excuse for postponing the sodomy trial of Anwar Ibrahim until after the elections. I walked up and down the staircase in an unsteady manner, with a hand on my back and a painful expression on my face. Now and again, I uttered, "Aduh! Aduh!" just in case some people needed extra convincing. But then I caught the maid staring at me in surprise. Immediately, I straightened up and snapped at her: "Go outside and do some gardening, you whore!" She scurried away like a frightened rat.

Then I went into the study to review my notes of the trial. Such a lot of allegations of corruption. All those prominent people involved: Daim, Rafidah, Rahim Thamby Chik, Eric Chia, Ting Pek Khing, Mohtar Abdullah, Gani Patail and of course the old man himself. Especially the old man himself, may Allah forgive his sins. Personally, however, I prefer to see him rot in hell.

The trouble is that I think all these allegations are true. However, I shall have to think of some reasons to discredit them in my judgement. That will be hard but they need not be very good reasons, just any old excuse will do. After all, the Court of Appeals and Federal Court are not going to overturn my judgement, our very devious chief justice, Eusoff Chin will see to that. Everyone knows that this trial is just a joke anyway - the stupid Azizan Abu Bakar, lie also don't know how to lie properly. The stupid attorney general, not giving him enough coaching. Don't know why the old man wants us to go through this circus, but there is not one person in Malaysia who can advise him.

Anyway, the notes were starting to depress me, so I laid them aside and decided to log on to the Internet. As usual, a lot of criticisms of the judiciary in the newsgroup and Reformasi websites. I can only chuckle; however bad these people think the judiciary is, the truth is far worse. What has it got to do with justice anyway, it's all about money and power these days. And the sooner people understand this, the better. Justice indeed! Might as well go to the moon, there would be a better chance of finding justice there.

Suddenly, the telephone rang. 'What do you want?' I said sharply as I normally do when I'm disturbed in the study. Dear me! It was chief justice Eusoff Chin so I quickly changed my voice. 'Oh ..., how are you? What a pleasure, boss.' He's seldom ever rang me at home before so I wondered what was up. It turned out that Mahathir wanted to see me. I started to panic. "Can it be postponed? I really am not very well at the moment." But he barked at me: "Don't give me that line! That sort of horseshit is only for the public. Three o' clock, Sri Perdana. Make sure you get your ass there."

That's Eusoff Chin for you. You do everything he wants you to do and, at the end of the day, he can't even be polite. Mahathir has an X-file on him as thick as a mattress, that's how the old man controls him. I know a thing or two myself about Eusoff, so don't he push me around too far. Ever heard of poison pen letters, dear Diary?

Anyway, after I put down the phone, I was truly depressed. I was so anxious that I hardly ate any lunch. I kept inventing all possible questions and answers in my mind. I even knelt down and prayed to Allah the All-Merciful for protection, promising that when the whole sorry business is over, I would make another pilgrimage to Mecca. At 3 p.m. I duly presented myself at Sri Perdana and was shown into Mahathir's study. When I entered, I greeted him politely with all his honorific titles but he only looked up an instant with a glare. I could see that he was not pleased and it was as much as I could do to control my shaking. Mahathir kept me waiting, standing while he continued writing for a full ten minutes. That's Mahathir for you; he treats everyone like schoolkids. At last he turned his attention on me.

"You! Do you know why we had to shut down your trial for the elections?"

"Yes, Datuk, it's so that the dog Anwar will not have a platform during this time to air his accusations against the government."

"And you! Tell me who's been giving him this platform?"

"I was I, Datuk," I said humbly.

"Say that again!' he demanded.

"It was the dog Ariffin, Datuk" I responded.

"And what's the matter with the dog Ariffin? Doesn't he know how to conduct a trial? You were supposed to help us convince the public, not help to damage us. You should have ruled that it was all irrelevant, like Augustine Paul. Now, that's a judge who really knows his business."

Indeed! The way Augustine Paul conducted the corruption trial was so biased that even the man in the street and the village folks could see that it was a kangaroo court. The way that Augustine Paul did it discredited the Malaysian judiciary in the eyes of the world. It's easy to run a kangaroo court, the hard part is to run it convincingly. All I was trying to do was to be a bit more subtle, but this is what I get for all my pains. How do you explain anything to a stupid old man? So I just kept silent, only saying, "Yes, Datuk"; "Very good Datuk"; "That I will do next time, Datuk." I also started slapping myself at one stage, right, left, right, left. I think it very much amused the old man.

Anyway, the whole interview lasted no more than twenty minutes, but it felt like twenty centuries. I started to breath again once I was let out of the house, oh I was so relieved. I felt the back of my pants and, unfortunately, it was wet all the way through. But I thought of the Tan Sri promised me at the end of the tunnel and I felt better. This wouldn't be the first time that I had kenching-ed in the presence of the old man. Never mind, dear Diary, let us hope tomorrow will be a better day.

Ariffin Jaka

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