#12: The Detour to Destiny: When Chaos Trumps Strategy
We had made the solemn oath: The next step should start from the hardest one. That meant a discussion with Pak Ngah Ghazali and a high-stakes confrontation his lawyer daughter, Kalsom, to dismantle the flawed Power of Attorney that hung over Grandmother’s legacy. But in the 9 Acre Revival project, the most meticulous plans often fall victim to the whims of fate and family.
The Frustration of the Full Schedule
I initiated the confrontation with clinical precision, contacting Kalsom via phone to secure a meeting. Her response confirmed the difficulty: this weekend was family matters; next week, a seminar; the following, entirely booked. Her professional schedule for the whole month of September was impenetrable. The clock, however, was ticking on Grandmother’s health.
Determined to force the issue, I shifted targets. A public holiday presented the perfect window: I flew back to Malaysia, ready to meet Pak Ngah Ghazali directly. But even the best-laid plans can be foiled by a missing cell phone and a sudden change in routine. I called several times; no answer. Pak Ngah Ghazali, notorious for abandoning his phone, was unreachable.
My mother, my father, and I drove to Seremban. We were certain he would be home. An hour and a half later, we faced a locked door. His housemaid informed us of the change: his three-times-a-week dialysis schedule had been shifted to the odd days, making Friday his treatment day. Disappointed and exhausted, we turned the car back towards home.
An Accidental Strategic Advantage
In that moment of defeat, my father pivoted. The plan to do the “hard thing” first was officially abandoned, yielding to pure circumstance. “Let’s go to Pak Long Latiff instead,” he suggested. I agreed, a sense of relief washing over me: the direct confrontation was delayed.
We drove to Pak Long Latiff’s house. It was 7:30 PM, the time of the Maghrib prayer. We waited. The minutes stretched, and the setting sun turned the sky deep indigo. Finally, after the Isyak prayer, he arrived, inviting us into his home where his wife, Mak Long Khadijah, offered us tea and biscuits.
Mak Long Khadijah was the key.
Pak Long Latiff, seeing the document file in my hand, asked directly what news I brought. I explained the urgency: the land intended for him (Lot 4213) was at risk. I revealed the existence of the Power of Attorney, clarifying the lawyer’s advice that the document was not the right tool for land bequeathal and was effectively useless after Grandmother passed.
Pak Long Latiff listened intently, but it was his wife who drove the final nail into the issue. Mak Long Khadijah seized the opportunity to share her own painful family history—the long, difficult, and costly process she endured transferring her own mother’s property after her death. Her personal testimony instantly validated the lawyer’s advice: the process must be expedited now.
Unanimous Consent, Zero Conflict
With his wife’s strong agreement, Pak Long Latiff quickly consented to the land division and the essential need to use a lawyer to formally execute the transfer from Grandmother. His agreement, however, came with a rational caveat: it would depend on the final quotation for the fees.
Driving home that night, the outcome was better than the original plan. By failing to execute the “hard thing,” we had gained an accidental strategic advantage: Kalsom could no longer say we avoided her, as she was the first contact, and her father the second. We had secured the full support of the eldest uncle, Pak Long Latiff, the respected head of the family, in a calm, non-confrontational setting.
The path is clearer, and the next step is simple: secure the quotation. The confrontation with the hardest challenge is inevitable, but now, we have the most powerful family vote secured.