But when Azizah journeys to the countryside to spread Anwar's word, many of these fears seem insignificant. She travels in a maroon, eight-seater family van, accompanied by a caravan of dusty sub- compacts and red-and-white taxis. Sometimes she takes along daughter Nurul Izzah, an attractive 18-year-old college student, who Mom admits is a crowd-puller. Azizah starts speeches with the remark: "I know some of you have come to see Izzah. You can look, but no funny business."
She arrives at an abandoned rubber plantation two hours outside the capital, and 50,000 people are waiting to hear her. She tells them how Anwar prays alone on the cement floor of his cell, and she reads messages written by him from jail calling for reformasi. Azizah reminds them that, as Finance Minister, Anwar approved the funding for the jail that now houses him. She describes the six steel doors she and the children go through on their weekly visits, and the 13 he must pass. Azizah plans twice-a-week speeches for the next two months. "I can see the odds," she says. "They are formidable."
If Azizah's roadtrips seem oddly familiar, there's good reason. The Philippines' Corazon Aquino started her campaign against Ferdinand Marcos more than 14 years ago in remarkably similar circumstances: the fractious coalition, the ragtag convoys, the concern that contesting elections might be futile. In Aquino's case, the electioneering paid off. For Azizah, the road is less certain. "Malaysian politics are now characterized by many unknowns," says Rustam Sani, a pro-Anwar political analyst. "Even Mahathir doesn't know how much support he has in the country or the party." But as Anwar learned once again last week, no one ever gained power by underestimating Mahathir.
Reported by John Colmey and David Liebhold/Kuala Lumpur and Kim Gooi/Penang
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