Waves of God
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On Dec 26, 2004, Aceh, Phuket, Sri Lanka, Penang among other countries were visited by a biblical calamity. If Moses parted the Red Sea with his rod to escape his enemies, (Surah Asy Syu’araa, verses 52-66), then the tsunami that appeared on Boxing Day left communities devastated by a loss that’s incomprehensible.
Madness was the only solace to grief. And it was mentally, emotionally and physically tiring for everyone: rescue workers, relief organisations, community leaders, parents, children, even masterless pets. Singapore’s Straits Times reported on Jan 2, 2005 that in Sri Lanka, there were three cases of child rapes, which, though deplorable, were ‘not uncommon in times of conflict and trauma.’
For Muslims, the natural disaster was a divine sign of Godly wrath. When pictures of the Grand Mosque at Banda Aceh appeared around the world, still upright and strong, it was proof that God protected the true believers. When more reports appeared in the news, of mosques and holy shrines not destroyed by the tsunami, everyone started chattering.
My mother, the Breakfast Ustazah, had a story for every piece of evidence of God’s tsunami miracles. Call me a cynic, and trust me when I tell you that I truly believe in miracles and God’s will, but there were some harebrained theories being spouted over our depressing but most nutritional breakfast: toast, oatmeal and muesli. We went to work, doomed.
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Conspiracy theories
We heard about how a woman who was in the mosque, saw a huge black devil leering at her, minutes prior to the disaster. As it inched towards her, the first wave hit Banda Aceh, and water, screaming humans and debris swept past her. When the second wave hit the town again, it jumped over her. When she opened her eyes, the mosque was barren, and she was the only soul there.
Harian Metro reported on Feb 3, 2005 of how survivors of the disaster in Phuket saw waves shaped in the name of Allah thundering towards them. There too, another mosque – Masjid Bushrao - survived the onslaught.
Satellite photos of waves swirling and morphing into the alphabets ‘Alif, Lam, Lam, Ha,’ spelling out Allah, were emailed and sent to friends and family within seconds. Anyone that had access to a computer stared for ages at the photos. Truly, a miracle that was witnessed by them. No longer were miracles part of the Holy Book, a myth; the witnesses were now part of history.
And of course, everyone had an opinion as to why it happened. Aceh has always been known as a holy place. It had been a mecca for walis (holy men) and Sufi saints. Slowly, young Acehnese were opening up and embracing an alien culture: the Western world. Nubile ravers and hippies were making their way there, turning the tiny town into a mini Goa of sorts. When the young people of Aceh began frolicking with their foreign friends and experimenting with drugs and sex, Aceh wept.
That was why the tsunami happened. To wipe Earth from sins and to cleanse its tired soul.
While Malaysians and the world are to be commended for reacting to the plight immediately with donations of clothes, supplies and money, how do they truly feel about themselves, as Muslims?
All I heard during that time of grief were the reasons why the stricken countries were hit by the waves.
God gives, God takes.
Phuket – you know it’s hell on earth. All that sex and drugs.
This is a sign from God to repent! What kind of Muslims are we, if we are not reminded? We need disasters like this to remind us, so we follow the right path.
After that, we all went back to our lives: sending the kids to school, making ends meet, hoping to meet our true loves, fighting with our bosses. This is the order of nature. Of Man.
Close to home
“We need to believe in miracles, disasters and God, to make sense of what is happening around us. Why do we exist? Why do things happen to us? This is the core of existentialism,” Jothi, a friend, said.
We were at Pandi again, having the usual vegetarian lunch. It was March 29, 2005, the day after another earthquake rocked Indonesia and neighbouring countries like Malaysia.
The mood was jovial, as almost everyone had a Malaysian earthquake story to tell. One of my friends escaped with her family, wearing just a sarong as she had no time to change. “I was just about to jump on the husband when we felt the tremors. Potong stim betul,” she text-ed me on the cell-phone.
At work, emails flew in and out, from friends, acquaintances and relatives, reminding us somberly that our time was nigh. We have forgotten our morals, our roots, which is why God is cleansing the world of its sins, its decay and morally bankrupt people. The recent earthquake was a divine reminder, for we forget too quickly.
But back to Jothi:
“For the poor, how can they make sense of the disasters that befall them if not to turn to God? So they externalise their fears. They blame the rich for their brawling and hard-partying ways, and they look at their impoverished lives. What do they have to cling to?”
“The poor need to hold on to something to explain their existence. Simple as that.”
“But Jothi, what about the emotional value of religion? There have been studies that prove that prayers and faith do work, and miracles can happen. I certainly derive great comfort from it,” I argued.
“It’s all psychological. Why do tsunamis happen? Because the seafloor shifts due to an undersea earthquake. Go google and read about it. Nothing to do with God and sins.”
Bantal peluk
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If you are to peek at my tiny library, you’ll find a lot of fiction and magazines. By my bed on the side-table are more books, but books on spirituality and buku doa (prayer books). I grew up sleeping next to either the Quran, a small Yassin pamphlet or other buku doas. This was so I would have a peaceful night and that no ghouls would disturb me.
Now that I’m all grown up, I realise it is the incantation of the doas, the understanding and absorption of the verses and their meanings that give me the confidence to get through the night, and day. It is not the physical book, but like Linus and his tattered blanket, knowing there is something to pat and hold onto when you wake up from a nightmare is comforting.
Nak doa mustajab untuk rezeki? I know one that guarantees wealth. You need a doa to find a spouse? Come to Auntie Dina. Need protection? Read Ayatul Qursy seven times. When I shop at Jalan Masjid India, I buy these books by the handful. My sisters laugh at me, “You want to be a bomoh ke?”
(It’s odd, but do you know that in the Middle East and Arab countries, you cannot find such books? When I went for Umrah, I hunted high and low for them. I found many books on Sufism, Islamic thought and practice, but no prayer books. A shopkeeper told me this: “It’s all in the Quran.”)
This peculiar analogy relates to the tsunami tragedy. Not that I mean to be unfeeling, but yes, I understand the need and the search for comfort.
When you can’t make sense of anything, and despite the sympathy and assurance you get from others, there is always that emptiness. It’s like clutching air, and what you really want is someone to hold you and tell you everything is all right. And then you question why. Why did this have to happen? Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?
When you can’t find the answers from your family, your friends, your shrink, you turn to God.
Even though you will not hear God speak outwardly, and you will not have God embrace you and you will feel frustration in the beginning, soon you will be calmer. You are heard.
You have no one but God.
Small Qiamat*
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This may sound rather callous at such a stressful time, but we have to realise that this is what nature is about. It kills, but with each death, a new life is born. Homes have been destroyed, and lives lost, but they will be replaced. When animals kill, nothing is wasted. Flesh and blood are enjoyed by the hunter, carrion is feasted on by vultures, and bones disappear in the wind. Another cycle of life begins.
We have also, according to ancient Hindu texts and vedic astrology, entered the age of Kali Yuga, The Age of Darkness. This is the fourth age of the world, and this is the period when the world will die.
Consider this calamity then as little worldly deaths.
Perhaps this is a wake-up call for us Muslims. There is no use slinging mud and howling at the decline of our faith, and condemning others. Now is the time to take action; do what is necessary to create a true Islamic Renaissance that we talk about all the time at the mamak; realise our flaws and that God has given us another chance to materialise ambitions.
What would that be?
*Qiamat - The Day of Resurrection and Judgement; the end of the world
Waves of God
