Surau Al-Hidayah is the pale blue building in the center
The azan can be heard all around Kuching from the suraus in most every neighborhood. Sometimes it takes a bit of work to find where it is coming from. Taking a shortcut through a secluded neighborhood on my way home late from work, I would often hear the azan called loudly nearby, see old uncles walking down the street in kain palikat and songkok, but never saw the mosque. I decided to explore one day on foot, and discovered the surau tucked away in a block of homes, with only a signboard at the alley entrance. From the air, it is easy enough to pick out: it is the only building not orientated toward the street, but toward the direction of prayer. The Surau Al-Hidayah is surrounded on all sides by homes, with two paths leading in between the neighbors’ fences. Gates in neighbors’ fences allow them to slip in from their backyards for the prayers.
Often, land for suraus is gifted by old landowners to a waqaf, or Islamic trust, as part of their will. Perhaps that’s what happened here. The surau is obviously well-endowed and looked after. The front entrance is tiled, and well-tended bougainvilleas bloom in decorative pots along the open space behind the mihrab. Several airconditioning units hang from the outside wall. Unfortunately, many urban suraus are locked before and after prayers to prevent theft. Since I arrived about an hour after Asr prayers, I was unable to go inside. Like most neighborhood suraus, it is a community gathering place as well as a prayer hall, as shown by the large covered front porch equipped with tables and chairs for relaxing and socializing before and after the prayers. This surau even had a pair of ping-pong tables in the back for entertainment.
Suraus exist somewhere between the public and private sphere, open to the random seeker looking to catch his salat but populated by a core group of regulars. They all have their own atmosphere that makes them so enjoyable to visit and discover. The favorable siting of this one makes it feel particularly warm and cozy. Finding it is the hard part.
Berjayalah Taskiku (Victory to my kindy!)ABIM, the Malaysian Islamic Youth Movement, is one of the oldest and strongest Islamic NGOs in Malaysia today. Founded in 1972, ABIM is influential on the national stage in lobbying for Islamic policies. It is the leading component organization in PEMBELA, an Islamic affairs pressure group. But its most recognizable effort on the ground is the Taski ABIM, a preschool and kindergarten operation with hundreds of locations around the country. Here in Kuching, ABIM runs five different branches offering morning and afternoon classes for 4,5 and 6-year-old children. All branches teach a standard curriculum of maths, science, Bahasa Malaysia, English, Arabic, Jawi, and Fardhul Ain (and recently, Mandarin!). Many branches also offer an accelerated Tahfiz program. At RM70/month for the standard session, Taski ABIM is among the most affordable early-childhood education programs in town.
Although the classrooms are rather spartan, the teaching quality is consistently high, due in part to the high morale of the teachers. Thus far, five of my children have attended Taski ABIM. For the last two years, I had been sending two of my girls to a higher-priced pre-school around the corner from my house, out of convenience. It was bright, overflowing with nice toys and books, but the teachers constantly turned over, seemingly from bad to worse each time. In January when I moved my children back to ABIM, I was surprised to find half my daughter’s class had moved along with us, and there in KakYang’s class was the same teacher who had taught KakNgah three years ago.
Every two years, Taski ABIM organizes a sports day, where the six-year-olds from all the branches around the city come together to compete in a morning of races. KakYang is my biggest and most athletic daughter, going toe-to-toe with her older brother for pillow fights and other monkey business, so she was super excited that morning when she suited up in her gym-day reds. KakNgah, the proud alumna, and KakUda and Andak, the two younger preschoolers, all came along for the event.
The morning started off with high ceremony. Each branch sent their kids around the gym carrying banners before lining up in tight formation. Then a short stout little girl came out of ranks to face the atheletes, barked orders to stand at attention and we all sang the national anthem and the state anthem (Sarawak Ibu Pertiwiku – Sarawak My Motherland. I always hear it as Sarawak Ibu Tiriku – Sarawak My Stepmother – but that’s neither here nor there), followed by the Student’s Pledge. After the generalissima had them stand at ease, there was a dua and fatihah, and finally, the Taski ABIM fight song! Berjayalah TASKIKU! Berjayalah TASKIKU! Vic-to-ry! TO MY KINDY! Vic-to-ry! TO MY KINDY! Very rousing indeed.
The games began, with squads of boys and girls from each class taking turns in various relay races. The format for all the races was very similar – race down the court, retrieve/place/solve some thingamajig, race back to tag your partner. After the last relay, the whole squad storms back down the court, and the first team fully across the line wins. As a spectator sport, it left a little to be desired: dozens of little kids dashing back and forth in barely contained chaos. KakYang’s eyes were on the prize though. One girl was absent from her squad, so KakYang was picked to run twice. She also had Aishah on her squad, the biggest girl in class and normally her nemesis but for today they were teammates. They won first place!
Zahidah had the last race, so in the meantime, I wandered around the stadium. It was a large crowd, with people from all around the city and every walk of life. I recognized some coworkers, shopkeepers, neighbors and even a little slavo-malayan girl, granddaughter of a good friend and a future Taski ABIM student I’m sure. Everywhere there were people chatting up acquaintances, cousins, and friends. The average family is around four children, and so there were lots of older sisters and brothers come to watch as well. Salihah ran into a half dozen grade-school friends who had an adik in the Taski.
When all the races had been run, the squads lined up for their awards. Zahidah was carrying a little tag to indicate the medal she should get, which she proudly flashed me from across the court. “Look Dad, dash place!” The judge passed his baby girl over to a young lady nearby while he assumed his official duties. Each child “salamed” the judge before collecting his award, bowing to kiss his hand, perhaps the most endearing custom of Malay children. There were gift baskets to dole out still, but I figured those were for the teachers and ustazahs who organized the show, and so we quietly ducked out early. I’ll be back in two years for Uji’s turn, after all.
MercyAs both of my regular readers are well aware, the major focus of this blog is whatever adorable thing my children happen to be up to at the moment. Nonetheless, I do try to intersperse that with other topics to keep things fresh, and so with that in mind I’d like to share with you this latest bit of news: Continue reading “Upcoming Productions”
it’s also hard not to feel some compassion for what looks like a group of struggling, credulous, under-educated men, existing on the fringes of society, who lacked the intelligence or willpower to avoid getting taken in by a government informant anxious to mitigate his own situation, and by their own vague understanding of radical Islam and the hole it might fill in their lives.
My mother used to sing this to me when I was little, and I sing it to my kids now. I’d never heard good old Woody sing it, but by the power of the internet, here it is. This Land is Your Land, by Woodie Guthrie.
Southfield and the JeffriesSo it looks like I won’t be making that trip home to Michigan that I thought I would this June, due to, how you say, irresolvable differences of contractual interpretation between myself and my employer. I’m tempted to give in to sentimentality here and list out all the things I really miss about home, but where would that get me? The places you dream about are also the places your nightmares come from, and so maybe I ought to reflect on that.
This is the Southfield-Jeffries Interchange, a monumental no-place that towers over the landscape, quite easily the tallest structure on the West Side. It has appeared in bad dreams more times than I can count. Details change, but most often, the interchange is completely filled with broken or unmoving cars and I find myself walking miserably up or down those tall arching, curving ramps. A meaningless series of dreams no doubt, and yet out of all the places and spaces I’ve inhabited around Detroit, it is that object that crops up most often in my imagination.
This popular introductory text on Shafi’i Fiqh is now available in English translation. This is the text I had been learning from in Kuching, struggling to learn from an Arabic text with Bahasa Malaysia explanations. This will help me enormously. Translated by Abdullah Muhammad al-Marbuqi al-Shafii, God bless him for his efforts, and graciously made available for download from Abul Layth of Seekingilm.com. (You’ll need to register with the site first.)
[Update: Apparently the translation is coming through the efforts of the Madrasah In’amiyyah from South Africa, mashallah. The text can also be downloaded directly from their library.]
KakYang and KakUda with balloon doggy and balloon helmetWho should come into town but HijabMan, fresh from a posh international wedding photography gig in Penang! Scarcely had he set foot in my house but my children were hopping around with balloon helmets, balloon flowers, balloon swords and balloon dogs (strictly halal). Uncle HijabMan knows how to get in good with the little ones. Continue reading “Orangutans and Orangijabs”
at the alley entrance. From the air, it is easy enough to pick out: it is the only building not orientated toward the street, but toward the direction of prayer. The Surau Al-Hidayah is surrounded on all sides by homes, with two paths leading in between the neighbors’ fences. Gates in neighbors’ fences allow them to slip in from their backyards for the prayers.
Perhaps that’s what happened here. The surau is obviously well-endowed and looked after. The front entrance is tiled, and well-tended bougainvilleas bloom in decorative pots along the open space behind the mihrab. Several airconditioning units hang from the outside wall. Unfortunately, many urban suraus are locked before and after prayers to prevent theft. 
Since I arrived about an hour after Asr prayers, I was unable to go inside. Like most neighborhood suraus, it is a community gathering place as well as a prayer hall, as shown by the large covered front porch equipped with tables and chairs for relaxing and socializing before and after the prayers. This surau even had a pair of ping-pong tables in the back for entertainment.
Suraus exist somewhere between the public and private sphere, open to the random seeker looking to catch his salat but populated by a core group of regulars. They all have their own atmosphere that makes them so enjoyable to visit and discover. The favorable siting of this one makes it feel particularly warm and cozy. Finding it is the hard part.
