THE brilliant blue skies overhead lend an almost dazzling view of the vast airfield dotted with airplanes. From the vantage point I have at the hangar of Systematic Aviation Services (SAS), the sight of airplanes taking off and landing is mesmerising.
Like sparrows towing a freight train, they rumble across the sky, leaving feathery white contrails, ribbons of exhaust that slowly disperse and form their own pseudo-cirrus clouds. In the minute or so it takes for a plane to pass overhead, the sound gets louder, until finally it fades away, a thunder without rain.
Somehow, the noise never seems that bad from the actual airport. But from where I stand near the flight paths for Subang's Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah airport runways, the planes loom large as they come in to land, with the background engine noise building up every 90 seconds or so to a conversation-defying eruption.
"It gets rather loud in here," admits Ida Adora Ismail, the chief executive officer of SAS when we meet in her expansive office overlooking the hangar. Below her office, the wide cavernous space is bustling with her crew overseeing the maintenance of aircraft. Many aircraft are here for short-term storage, biding their time while they change owners or undergo maintenance.
The recent pandemic has hit few sectors harder than air travel, wiping out tens of thousands of jobs and uncountable billions in revenue. While most fleets are grounded and the industry is forced to reimagine its future, it's business as usual for the 28-year-old CEO.
Ida has little time for these "weepy stories with violin accompaniment that airlines tell", "… but it comes with a lot of sleepless nights, that's for sure," she adds candidly.
SAS, founded by her late father, Ismail Asha'ari, has been in operation since 1994. The aviation company provides helicopter and fixed wings services as well as a full range of maintenance and overhaul services with parts supply to a wide range of fixed wing and rotor wing manufacturers. Its services also include flight and helicopter city tours as well as helicopter charters.
"This is my father's dream," she says softly, her hands waving around the office. Stepping into her father's big shoes at the young age of 26, Ida became the youngest CEO in the history of the Malaysian aviation industry. She's still keeping her nose to the grindstone, managing her late father's "baby" in the midst of a global pandemic.
More than six months ago, Ida wrote a touching tribute about her father: "Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I became CEO to my father's life work. What would I know? Being only 26? She's young. She doesn't know anything. She won't succeed. There goes her father's company. Left in the hands of a young girl. At 15, my father was diagnosed with cancer. I was two weeks into boarding school in Australia when I rushed home to be with him. At 15, I filled in his shoes. I was asked by him to meet the staff to ensure them he will be okay. At 17, my father fell sick again. He told me: 'Ida, please pursue accounting and finance. I need you to come home to help me one day.' Without hesitating, I said: 'Ok Papa, for you.' In 2016, he wrote again: 'Ida, come home please. You have stayed in Australia long enough. It's time to come home to help me. I have so much to teach you. I give myself four years to train you. I want to retire and play golf. Come home. Come be the youngest CEO.' Again, I said: 'For you Papa. I will.'"
"This is his legacy," she tells me softly, eyes glistening. "I'm keeping his dream alive." The large portrait of her father beams behind her.
THE DREAM
He was known as the boy who wanted to fly. As a young boy, Ismail Asha'ari loved aircraft. He frequently visited his father, who worked in the Air Force, at Changi, Singapore. Here, a lifelong dream to fly planes was birthed.
Upon completing his studies at the Royal Military College, Ismail applied to join the Air Force. But his dreams were dashed when he failed his physical examinations. His eyesight let him down.
"Sometimes, you just have to face up to reality and cut your losses when things aren't going your way," he once said. He went on to further his studies as an accountant and soon rose the corporate ladder, taking on the position of CEO in a large Malaysian transportation company. He was only 38 when he was charged with managing a fleet of over 1,000 buses from 1982 to 1985.
Despite having immersed himself in the corporate world, Ismail's love of planes never died. Although he was unable to fly as a professional pilot, he joined the Royal Selangor Flying Club and soon obtained his private pilot's licence. He was finally able to fly. "There are many fond memories of me as a little girl joining him on his 'flying' trips," recalls Ida, smiling. "My father took me everywhere."
His entrepreneurial fire lit up again when he decided to leave the transportation industry in 1993. As someone whose father was an air force personnel and who flew planes as a hobby, he wanted to pursue his passion by starting a business that serviced planes and helicopters used by flying clubs around the country.
At the age of 44, he ventured into the aviation industry for the first time and SAS was born. The first hurdle was finding an office space at Subang Airport. "I'm a trained accountant, not an engineer. I learn as I go. The first thing I learnt was that I needed an office in the Department of Civil Aviation (DCA), Subang," he recalled in an interview years ago.
He finally obtained permission to convert a small toilet into his office space. And that's how SAS started out — under humble circumstances. With a small team of five, the company ventured into aircraft maintenance services, initially doing work for the Royal Selangor Flying Club and other small jobs.
Times were hard during the early years but his persistence and passion spurred him to push through the tough seasons. The company finally made its first breakthrough after two challenging years in business when it was awarded the contract to provide aircraft maintenance services to the Department of Civil Aviation.
"As long as my dad ran SAS, he still insisted on using this converted toilet as his office!" says Ida wryly, before adding: "The office still exists in this compound, and it remained my father's workspace until he passed away last year."
PASSING THE BATON
The second of four girls, Ida has taken over her father's role since last year at the company. "It's always expected in the industry that usually the son would eventually take on the business but I don't think my dad had a choice!" she admits with a sheepish laugh.
Ida was born and raised in Kuala Lumpur and studied until Form Three. "My father's alma mater was the Royal Military College. Unfortunately (for him), it was an all-boys college. He was always hoping that RMC would one day open up to girls!"
It must've been disappointing, I say. "Yes!" she replies, laughing. But because he was sent to a boarding school from the age of 16, Ismail felt that his daughters should also achieve the same kind of independence he acquired at a young age. "He told us to go out and grow! My dad sent me to Adelaide, South Australia to continue my studies."
Ismail was first diagnosed with cancer two weeks before Ida left for Adelaide. "He didn't tell me or mum. He went for his first chemotherapy and radiotherapy without telling anyone. He knew that if I knew he was sick, I wouldn't have left at all. Out of all my siblings, I was closest to him since young."
Her father doted on her and often brought young Ida along on his trips. "You can ask all of my dad's friends in aviation who knew him when I was young, they'd always see him around a little girl. If he went diving, I'd be the daughter on the boat waiting for him; if he goes flying over the weekend, I'm the one seated next to him!"
After four weeks in Adelaide, Ida finally received news of her father's diagnosis. "I'd not receive any text messages from him and that was strange because we were so close. After asking persistently, news finally came to me that my dad had cancer." She flew back home.
"I came home needing to deal with the fact that my dad was sick. I also was asked to go to his office and reassure his staff that he was okay and that if anything should happen, I'd be there. I was far from graduating high school or even getting a degree then," shares Ida.
Her father managed to survive his prognosis. "My father was upbeat and had a strong will to live," she says simply. But when she was 17, Ida received devastating news.
"I was about to enter the examination hall when I received a call from my mum. She passed the phone to my father who told me that he was just about to enter the operating theatre to remove his colon. His cancer had returned," she recalls softly.
Thankfully, her father overcame it again and went into remission. Ida went on to finish her degree in accountancy and corporate finance.
In 2016, Ismail made an unexpected visit to Australia to visit his daughters. "My dad was grieving because he'd just lost his father around that time. He packed up and made a surprise trip to see us. My eldest sister had just given birth and my younger sister was still in college. So it was up to me to drive him around. I spent that two precious weeks with dad. I think I realised then how tired he looked and how he'd aged so suddenly."
The clarion call to come home resounded again two months after his visit when Ida was finalising her permanent residency status in Australia. "I had plans, I had a life in Australia. Dad called me to come home and take over his company. He'd been running the company for the last 20 years and he asked me, 'Why don't you come home and help me?'" she says simply.
THE LEGACY
She agreed despite her misgivings. "That conversation I had with him was enough to tell me that he needed me and that I had to return home. So that's what I did," she explains.
Ismail told her he had a four-year-plan to get her ready to take over the company. "I'll show you what you need to do. By the time you take over, I want to retire and look after your youngest sister (who was still at school)," he said.
He wanted her to start from the bottom rung. "For you to run this company, you need to know the people as well as the business," he added firmly. It wasn't easy, she readily admits. "I mean, I was the boss' daughter!"
She was firmly in the trenches like any other staff. "You'd see me outside working under the blazing hot sun just like everybody else. I got to know everybody — from the most junior technician all the way up to management. I often asked myself what I was doing! Here I was with a degree in accounting and finance, and I was out getting sunburned and helping to tow an aircraft!" she recounts blithely with a peal of laughter.
Was your father a hard taskmaster? Oh yes, she admits readily, eyes twinkling. "My first job was in flight operations. I knew next to nothing about flight operations. My father gave me a task list and told me to just figure it out and do it!"
It wasn't easy working with each other. "But he and I managed to create boundaries. At work, he was my boss and I, his employee. We were only father and daughter after working hours. This helped alleviate the many heated arguments we had in the past!" she says. "For the years that I worked with him, that's what I got."
In May 2019, Ismail had cancer again. Three days before Hari Raya, he sat her down at the lobby of the hospital and told her with tears running down his cheeks that he was sick again and that the doctors had found something. Ida held his hands tight and told him, "Papa, you're a fighter. You'll fight through this."
Six months later, he told her it was time for her to run the show and that he'd be there to guide and help her. In December 2019, he sat in his last management meeting. "Today is my last day as CEO," he wrote. "This will be my last management meeting. I've grown SAS for the past 25 years and today too Ida becomes CEO. Please support Ida. I've trained her through university and now she's happily come home to help me."
And his message to his daughter was especially poignant: "To Ida, you must always do your best and always take care of the team. Target growth. Thank you for coming back to support me. — Papa."
On Dec 2, 2019, the company was officially handed over to Ida. In the first month after handover, her father was still around to make decisions and allow her to execute his orders. As his health deteriorated rapidly, Ismail had to step aside to focus on recovery. Ida assured him that the company was in good hands.
He'd wait eagerly for her to return from office every day and would ask her how her day went. "He'd lost his voice by then, and would call me by banging on a tissue box when he knew I was back home!" she recalls wistfully.
On Jan 8, 2020, Ismail succumbed to cancer and passed away peacefully in his wife's arms, with Ida and her youngest sister by his side. "I returned home to work for him. I knew I'd eventually run the company one day but I didn't think it would be that soon."
Ida, who's still single, remains focused on carrying on her father's work. "It's been really challenging," she admits. "But by the time I took over the company, I already knew the inner workings of the company because thanks to my father, I've worked in every single department. I may be young with the least experience but I'm also very knowledgeable."
There were more painful events that came with her new role. Her father's two longest serving managers both left within the first month of his passing. "My father knew that SAS had to be handed over to his family. But people who'd been so used to my dad found it hard to accept that someone that young with new ideas was going take over," she reveals, adding: "Year 2020 was filled with a lot of 'hit-in-the-face' situations, which I had to deal with."
She remains grateful that her father made her start at the bottom because the knowledge she gained during those tough early years helped her overcome many issues in the wake of her father's death. "One of the many lessons my father taught me in business was that in order to be the best, I have to do my best," she recalls.
He also reminded her that the people who work for SAS are truly the company's assets. "It's important to always take care of their interests and to learn from each other. He used to say that teamwork and respect are most important to a successful business."
Business is good, she says, not without a little pride lacing through her voice. "I wish dad could have been here to see that we're doing well." It's been hard stepping into her father's large shoes but SAS under Ida's leadership has been doing remarkably well despite the pandemic.
Still, she says, there are times when she misses her father's voice guiding her, especially during times when she's had to make difficult decisions. "I often wonder what my father would do under those circumstances," she muses quietly.
But the poignant note she wrote about Ismail on one of her social media posts speaks volumes about the depth of her feelings: "It has not been an easy year. But we made it Pa. For you. I miss you every single day. I miss you through every achievement and every failure. But for you Papa, I am still here standing strong and not giving up. I love you Papa."
Ida later takes me on a tour of the bustling hangar where the aircraft are located. Her face breaks into a wide grin as she shows off the company's fleet of airplanes and helicopters. There are so many plans in store for the company, she tells me excitedly.
"Let's take a picture everybody!" she calls out gaily. The camaraderie between the young CEO and her staff is evident. Shouts of laughter and snatches of conversation can be heard through the roar of another plane taking off nearby.
Ismail Asha'ari always dreamt of flying. But the greatest legacy he's left behind was to give his daughter wings of her own.