When Queen Elizabeth died on 8 September 2022, the world mourned the loss of a ‘truly royal’ monarch. For 70 years, Queen Elizabeth II had been the standard by which other countries judged their own royals – she was the epitome of grace and elegance, shouldering the burden of the British monarchy with quiet dignity and upholding the best in the monarchical tradition.

The news, as devastating as it was to those who knew her, loved her, and respected her, also brought with it a flurry of uncertainty for states the world over. Foreign embassies and decision-makers scrambled to figure out what was the best timing for the flying of the flag at half-mast, if at all – were flags to be lowered to half-mast only on the day of the funeral, 19 September (which at that time seemed a long way off); if the flag was lowered on the date of Queen Elizabeth’s death, for how long should it be lowered; if the decision was to not lower the flag since the Queen was not the head of state of that country, what would be the implications in the relations with the United Kingdom?

All these questions and decisions may seem trivial to most people. However, in the world of diplomacy, one wrong step and it might have far-reaching consequences. We’ll talk about the flying of the flag in another edition – for now, I want to continue with the Condolence Book that I started in the previous edition of this blog. Never did I imagine then, that writing about the Book would be so beneficial to many.

I went to sign the Condolence Book for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at the Residence of the British High Commissioner here in Kuala Lumpur. It was the very last day that the Book was available – Thursday, and I made a beeline for the Residence during lunchtime. Ahead of me was a Malaysian Chinese business mogul, and of course when the Chief of Malaysia’s Defence Forces arrived while I was still awaiting my turn, I had to give up my slot for the General.

When I finally sat down at the table where the Book was placed, I was surprised that instead of a page for each message, we were given a column each, much like signing a guest book. My heart sank – there was simply no space for me to write anything more than the perfunctory condolence, and rest in peace message….hence, this blog.

Many who know me well already know that I first started proper schooling at the age of 4, and the first foreign ‘language’ I learnt was Cockney. My dad had decided to pursue his Masters in Sheffield, UK, and of course the family went with him. So, from ages 4 to 7, I went to Lowedges Primary, in a very rural part of the United Kingdom, where mine was the only non-white family. So my early childhood saw me watching the Royal Family on tv, and reading about them in the local papers.

Up to this point, there would have been countless other similar stories as mine. My story would not have even been worth mentioning, much less told.

Fast forward to 20 years later, which saw me as a junior officer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Malaysia. Out of all the desks (portfolios) that could have been assigned, I was sent to serve at the Europe Divison, where I would have particular focus on West Europe. As a job, it was just like any other desk. Except that it wasn’t.

In the 1990s, the Prime Minister was particularly active travelling abroad. The visits were not one-way, though, since many other ministers, prime ministers, chancellors and other heads of government also ended up visiting Malaysia. Trade was booming, Malaysia’s name was taking off in a big way, and investors were flocking to the country. Malaysia took advantage of this ‘high’ by offering itself as host for a number of events. One of these such events was the Commonwealth Games.

So it was that the 1998 Commonwealth Games was held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, with Queen Elizabeth II scheduled to officiate the closing of the Games. Of course, as the Desk officer for the UK, I was instructed to be the Liaison Officer (Protocol Officer) for Her Majesty.

The year 1998 was not a particularly good year for Malaysia. It coincided with a very public political fall-out in the country, with all eyes on the sensational case of a the trial of a former Deputy Prime Minister. It was the very first time that conventional, traditional, hierarchical Malaysia had been rocked by such a highly publicised case, and one that spilled over to demonstrations on the street.

Nonetheless, the Queen’s visit was highly anticipated. There was no way that Malaysia would not welcome the visit of Her Majesty. it was just unfortunate that the timing of the visit, for the closing ceremony of the Games, was right in the middle of the High Court proceedings of the Deputy Prime Minister, while tensions were running high and demonstrations became an almost daily occurrence.

So we were all given one additional instruction: whatever happened, the Queen’s safety was paramount. In short, if there was any untoward incidents during the closing ceremony, our instructions were to get Her Majesty somewhere safe.

The Queen arrived with Prince Philip and her whole entourage on bright Sunday afternoon. I remember it was Sunday because the first programme on Her Majesty’s schedule was evening mass at St. Mary’s cathedral in Kuala Lumpur. Actually it was a special afternoon mass, held around 4pm, specifically for the Queen. I remember that we were all hoping that it would not rain that day. In hindsight, we should have hoped that it rained.

Why? Because around St. Mary’s Cathedral is located adjacent to Merdeka Square, which just happens to be in front of the High Courts of Malaysia (in those days). Even though it was a Sunday, people were milling about, perhaps checking out the venue of where the Deputy Prime Minister would be tried the next day. So there was a sizable crowd that Sunday afternoon.

When the Queen alighted from her car at St. Mary’s Cathedral, she waved to the crowd that had gathered, thinking that they were there for her. Some might have been, but many were just by chance ‘in the neighbourhood’. In truly goodnatured fashion, the crowd duly waved back.

I thought that would have been the end of the situation; little did I know that more was yet to occur in the days that followed.

Again, I digress. This was meant to be a story of my meeting the Queen, and being ‘presented’ to her. In the official sense of the word, being ‘presented’ to the Queen (or any other monarch) is laced with pomp and ceremony. In mine, it was a semi-formal, unofficial introduction by the High Commissioner, just inside the VIP terminal where I was nearly last in line and Her Majesty was probably fatigued from her long journey. There were no official pictures taken (more’s the pity) because everyone of note had been presented to Her Majesty on the tarmac.

Nonetheless, for the next three days I was her shadow, following her from place to place as she met with the King, members of a singing group (no, I’m not kidding), the public, and officiated the closing of the Games. Only in one session – a private audience that she had at the Carcosa (where she was staying) – did she tell her lady-in-waiting to tell me that it was not necessary for me to be present. We were walking in one of the corridors then, and she had half-turned and spotted me trailing her, when she tossed over her shoulder, “she doesn’t need to be there”, and so I withdrew quietly.

Having followed many heads of state and heads of governments before Her Majesty’s visit, and in the years since, one thing struck me – at every single function, as Her Majesty was departing the grounds, she would spend some time talking to the host/organiser, even though her car was already patiently waiting with the doors wide open. She would not be in any hurry to get into her vehicle even though everything was primed and ready for her to continue on her merry way.

Anyone who has ever been in a big entourage the size the Queen inevitably travels with would tell you that this is a concession. Her Majesty makes small talk while the car waits, so that her retinue of ladies in waiting, advisors, secretaries, and the protocol officers of the host country could then make it to their own cars in the motorcade. Just imagine if you were a junior officer like me – my designated car would probably be 14th in the motorcade; with high heels and the traditional dress, it would have been an inelegant scramble to get into the car before the motorcade started speeding off.

[By the way, the rule of a motorcade is that once the VIP is in his/her car, the motorcade will then move. If you don’t get into your car fast enough, you WILL be left standing on the kerb]

There must be many officers around the world who have served as Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s protocol or liaison officer; I was but just one of them. Knowing this does not belittle the experience in any way, nor does it diminish the trust that was placed upon my shoulders for that sliver of honour. I am truly grateful for the opportunity and to have been up-close with Her Majesty as part of her entourage for those three significant days.

May Her Majesty Rest In Peace.