Cikarang: What a Change!

I was born in this town 44 years ago, on 18 December 1964 exactly. My childhood was full with the happiness of being a town boy who goes to school in the morning, learn Quran and Islamic teachings in the afternoon and playing football in the evening. Just in front of my village, across the street, there is an ample ricefield, in which I used to play kites in planting season and joining peasants in their harvest time.
Cikarang was a town in which people stick to Islam in a traditional way. They received religious education mostly through non-formal lectures in mosques, learning halls (majelis taklim), family gathering and people gathering. Formal religious education in the form of classes and grades do not start until late 1960s. Their commitment to religous teacher are quite high, a condition that can be compared to other areas like Banten and East Java. In Rabiul Awwal, the 3rd month in Islamic calendar, mosques commemorate the birth of Prophet Muhammad one after another. Sometimes they seem compete one to another, to make their feast more lively and attended by more participants, by inviting popular figures.

*****
I lived in an old house, my father built it in 1956. It was a big house with a high roof, seemingly a fashion in its time. (I know because I saw such kind of houses in Menteng, an elite area in Jakarta, still preserve their structure). My house is about 25 meters to the bank of Cikarang river about which bamboo trees grow very thick and green. Every morning I would hear sound of birds from the trees, accompanying me in taking bath, preparing my school stuff or having my breakfast. Before that I usually pray Subuh in the mosque nearby and return home walking with naked feet through grass on the street side, feeling the cold of morning dew and some grass remains on my feet. The air was very fresh. No pollution in water, air or land.
****
My elementary school building is located between acres of ricefield. When rest time comes, we just need to jump over a water tunnel that separates our school building from the ricefield, and play among straws of paddies, as far as we want. Sometimes we ran very fast on the path and one of us might fall down, leaving some dirty mud on his dress. Sometimes we saw some fishes swim through clear water tunnel and we never leave them free; catch them and put in a clear plastic bag which we may found in garbage can behind the school. Sometimes we were not aware how long we play, and when we returned to classroom the teacher is already back, standing and ready to punish us for being late.
I attended my junior high school (SMP) also in this town, in the eastern part of the city, on the road leading to another town called Lemahabang (later we call this town as L.A, having known that there is a famous city in USA called Los Angele- L.A for short). Although feels quite reluctant, my father who is a known Islamic scholar (ulama), let me enrolled in the school, after a long and hot discussion with my mother. It is because my father wants me as his successor for Islamic knowledge-keeper like him, while my mother, who is a medical practitioner insists me, on taking general knowledge first. When I graduated from the school, my father reminded me of his demand. It is because my older sister already took his job as medical practitioner, like what my mother does. It is my turn, he said, to follow his path. Otherwise, he would find another boy (son? remarried?) who can comply his words. (Wow, what a threat). Soon after graduation I enrolled in a religous senior high school, away from my town, living in its hostel.

****

I never saw any change in my town, during my living in boarding school. Everytime I went home for a break from boredom or due to homesick, I did not see any significant change in its streets, tree, building, market.... everything. What I felt different was the attitude of my father's students. From their wishpers one to another I heard that my father already found what he wanted for a long time: a successor as a religious figure in my village.

Three years in a religious senior high school for me was quite a time, but not for my father. He asked me to stay longer so that I might be able to have more religious knowledge. For him, the modern school system  is not able to produce someone to be a scholar like him. Someone needs to sit down for reading classical books (known to be yellow book) from a reknown scholar (ulama), if he wants to become scholar. For him it is an order for me to comply. For me it means more suffering I will undergo. Attending a religous senior high school means having a bleach future, let alone sitting for a higher religious knowledge without a degree. What a disaster.

For this reason I should spend three more years in religious boarding school. My daily activities was mainly reading classical books, that are mostly written in old Arabic style grammar. These books even made our senior -who graduated from universities in Egypt and other Middle East countries- quite a headache. This is because they are educated in modern universities that uses modern style Arabic grammar and syntax. Sometimes they even ignore of the detail of Arabic grammar once they capture the ideas in the paragraph.
Six years live in boarding school, with interruption of going home somtimes, I witness no substantial alteration and change in the life of my town. Everything is as good as before.

continued....