Mak selalu pesan “tak baik tidur lepas subuh, nanti rezeki mahal”
Tapi musim panas di sini bererti subuh masuk pukul 3 pagi. Jadi pesanan Mak tu selalu diabaikan saja. Kalau di Malaysia bangun pukul 3-4 pagi maksudnya nak solat tahajud, tapi sekarang di sini kalau bangun pukul 5.00 pagi dah dikira waktu ‘subuh dinosaur’, bukan setakat ‘subuh gajah’ lagi dah.
Entah kenapa pagi tadi mata tak mengantuk pula selepas subuh. Huzaifah pun susah nak tidur balik selepas bertukar lampin. Ditepuk tak mahu, didodoi menangis pula. Huzaifah sekarang dah tak suka digomol-gomol, digumpal-gumpal. Dia tak suka apa-apa aktiviti yang ada ciri-ciri mengongkong. Malah bertatih pun bukannya mahu dia dipegang, tapi bila-bila dia mahu, dia sendiri yang akan berpaut pada kaki ibu atau ayah dan berlatih bertatih.
Sebab lewat tidur semula, kebetulan pula hari ini tidak ada kelas, agak lewat bangun. Bangun-bangun, terus masak nasi, kari ayam dan sayur goreng. Ikan salmon goreng halia yang dimasak semalam pun dipanaskan semula. Huzaifah pun terjaga, tapi leka bermain di dalam bilik berhawa dingin, jadi tidak ‘menolong’ ibu di dapur yang panas.
Hari ini memang panas. Berbahang. Kata orang biasanya hawa macam ini cuma terjadi dalam bulan 8. Tapi tahun ni musim panas awal sikit agaknya berbanding tahun-tahun lain. Teringat kata Kamarol (yang baru pulang dari Malaysia, dan sudi bawa Milo, asam keping dan kayu manis sebagai buah tangan dari Malaysia) “kalau jadi buat Disneyland di Malaysia, kesianlah dekat puteri-puteri dan karektor-karektor Disney lain yang kena pakai baju tebal-tebal dan bertopeng dalam panas.“ Ahh, tak payah tunggu Disneyland di Malaysia, di Tokyo ini pun pasti cukup menyeksakan bila menjadi maskot dalam musim panas yang amat hangat ini.
Selepas solat zohor, belek-belek dokumen untuk prosedur kemasukan ke Waseda. Alhamdulillah, peperiksaan dan temuduga untuk kemasukan sudah selesai dan keputusan pun sudah diterima. Seperti yang diduga, walaupun esei yang ditulis entah apa-apa kandungannya dan waktu temuduga pun tidak lancar menjawab seperti yang diharapkan, berkat doa semua (dan kemungkinan besar kerana sekarang ini pun seorang pelajar tajaan Mambusho), lulus sudah permohonan untuk masuk sebagai pelajar Masters sepenuh masa. Selama ini, hanyalah seorang kenkyusei (research student) sahaja.
Surat tawaran dibelek-belek, kerana atas kesibukan dengan urusan sekolah dan rumahtangga, tidak sempat dibaca teliti sebelum ini. Surat baru diterima hari Isnin lepas walaupun keputusan sudah diketahui seminggu lepas. Itupun terpaksa ambil sendiri di pejabat GSAPS (nama pendek sekolah), kerana bila dipos, surat berkenaan dikembalikan kepada GSAPS kerana alamat yang digunakan sudah tidak terpakai. Jadi dimaklumkan pula secara emel agar datang mengambil dokumen di pejabat GSAPS. Bukannya tidak pernah cuba maklumkan pertukaran alamat di pejabat GSAPS, tetapi disuruhnya pula ubah sendiri alamat secara on-line. Bila dicuba-cuba berkali-kali tidak berjaya, lalu harapnya GSAPS terima makluman secara manual. Rupa-rupanya tidak juga.
“Ya Allah, tarikh tutup penghantaran dokumen semalam, 28 Jun 2006!” Tersentak bila sedar yang sudah lewat sehari rupanya.
“Hah, semalam kan Haida pergi sekolah. Kenapa tak hantar?,” tanya Pak Ostad.
“Tak perasan lah. Surat pun baru nak baca betul-betul hari ni. Ada kawan cakap tarikh tutup 30 Jun. ”
“Habis tu, nak buat macamana ni ? Sempat lagi ke ? Ke nak kena tunggu tahun depan pula baru jadi 1st year student ?” Pak Ostad bertanya, separa risau, separa mengusik.
Jam sudah pukul 3.15. Cepat-cepat bersiap. Huzaifah pula pilih waktu itulah untuk menangis menjerit minta perhatian. Cepat-cepat buatkan susu, baringkan dan tenangkan Huzaifah sebelum biarkan dia minum sendirian. (Dia sudah cekap memegang botol sendiri sejak 7 bulan lagi).
Asar masuk jam 3.34 hari ini, jadi selepas selesai solat, terus berangkat ke Waseda. Bertembung Pak Ostad di muka pintu masjid di tingkat 3, mohon permisi dan mita tolong doakan.
“Baik-baik jalan. Semoga dipermudahkan, insya Allah.”
Bimbang ada, cemas pun ada. Kalau dokumen tak diterima kerana lewat sehari, bagaimana? Jepun memang amat berkira soal waktu – tidak boleh lewat walau seminit. Jadi mulalah mengatur bicara dalam kepala – “Orang lain terima dokumen sejak minggu lepas, sedangkan saya cuma terima dokumen hari Isnin – tak boleh ke dipertimbangkan?”
Sesampai di stesen Waseda sudah jam 4.31, berlari-lari anak ke Pejabat Hal-Ehwal Pelajar di kampus Toyama, kerana perlu mendapatkan salinan sijil menjadi pelajar tajaan Mambusho. Sambil menunggu salinan sijil diuruskan, bergambar di kubikel gambar segera. Kerana tidak faham dengan apa yang diperkatakan mesin, terpaksa bergambar berkali-kali – sehingga kali ketiga baru puas hati dengan gambar yang dicetak. Bila cuba melekatkan gambar di kad yang sepatutnya baru tersedar sudah tersilap saiz rupanya. Patutnya 3 cm x 4 cm, tapi ambil gambar bersaiz 3.5 cm x 4.5 cm. Aaahhh, bantai sajalah.
Selesai dapatkan salinan sijil Mambusho di kampus Toyama, separa jalan separa lari ke kampus Nishi Waseda, ke pejabat GSAPS. Sampai-sampai saja, sudah jam 5.02, jadi pintu pejabat sudah tertutup rapat. Aduhai...
Kebetulan waktu itu seorang teman Nihonjin, Yuji, berjalan dari arah belakang pejabat. “Tolong, tolong, saya harus hantar dokumen ini, tapi pejabat dah ditutup pula. Dan ada dokumen yang saya tak tahu bagaimana nak isi kerana semuanya dalam tulisan kanji”
Yuji sekilas memandang jam tangannya, “Baru saja lepas pukul 5.00, ramai lagi orang ada di pejabat. Mari, kita cuba di pintu belakang.”
Yuji memang banyak berurusan dengan orang pejabat, jadi walaupun kebiasaannya pelajar dianggap tidak sopan jika cuba berurusan selepas waktu pejabat melalui pintu belakang, kerana Yuji sudah kenal dengan orang pejabat, tidaklah jadi masalah besar.
Pegawai yang digamit Yuji tidak banyak soal, bila ditanya segera menerangkan bagaimana mahu mengisi satu dokumen dan setuju mengambil dokumen-dokumen lain yang telah selesai diisi (di atas keretapi dalam perjalanan dari Asakusa ke Waseda). Cepat-cepat pula mohon masa tambahan lima minit untuk mengisi dokumen yang terakhir, dan pegawai tersebut bersetuju.
Jadi, alhamdulillah, jam 5.15 tadi, semuanya sudah selesai. Insya Allah bulan September nanti jadilah pelajar Masters tahun satu di GSAPS ini. Alhamdulillah, mungkin murah rezeki hari ini – dokumen diterima walaupun lewat sehari - sebab tak tidur lepas subuh pagi tadi...
Thursday, June 29, 2006
If there's any lesson to be learned...
Both recent entries by MakNenek and Kit had made me think long and deep about being a mother. MakNenek's words, “The truth is, our children, reflects us. That truth hurts. It means that my history has an effect on them,” resounded long after I finished reading it.
It won’t take a genius to figure how I feel about Mak, but it’s a different story altogether when it comes to my biological mother. I respect her. I feel thankful to her for bearing me in her womb for 40 weeks and bringing me to this world. But if anyone ask me if I love her as a mother, I doubt I can say ‘yes’ sincerely. She’s the anti-model of a mother I want to be for my own children.
It has always been difficult to explain to others why I became rather unfeeling towards the woman who gave birth to me. Some pre-warned me that I would feel differently after I gave birth to a child myself, but no, giving birth to Huzaifah has not change how I feel towards my biological mother. Long long ago, as I was about to leave my high school, I got lots of friends telling me in person or just leaving notes in my autograph, to love my mother, because however bad she was, she’s still the mother who gave birth to me and that "syurga di bawah telapak kaki ibu". It was clear to them that I never look forward to her annual visits. In fact, she stopped visiting when I was 16, after she got pissed with something I said and cursed me to go to hell along with my father.
We did not contact each other until I returned from UK in 1998. Since then, I have made it a habit to visit her at least once a year, normally to stay for 3 or 4 days. She would normally ask me to drive her around Kedah/Perlis, visiting some relatives or family friends whenever I visit her. Our relationship is now cordial, as against warm. It used to be tinged with bitterness when I was younger, but there’s none of that now. I guess some things just fade with time.
Why the bitterness?
I guess she felt bitter because I chose Ayah over her during the fight for custody. So did my younger brother. Ayah even won custody for my youngest brother who was less than three years old. when they were divorced for the final time.
For most part of my childhood, I was raised up by my paternal grandparents. First out of necessity because my parents found it difficult for my mother to cope with both a baby and her second pregnancy; later because they were divorced and Ayah got me while my brother stayed with our mother. They remarried after that, mostly because Ayah was deeply concerned about my younger brother’s well being, and he wanted me to have a mother just like other kids. Still, Tok Ayah and Tok insisted on me staying with them even after my parents remarried. For all I can remember, I only stayed full time with my mother when I was six and eight – prior to that it was only for short stays every now and then.
I remember my eight year quite clearly though – and that was probably the worst year of my childhood.
I remember coming back home from school to an empty house with no lunch prepared for us, because our helper was not afraid to get away whenever she felt like it since she was not well supervised by my mother. Often we had to go to Nyah’s place for lunch, which luckily was not that far from our house back then.
I remember Ayah sacking the irresponsible maid and he asked my mother, a government servant, to be back home by the evening to look after the children herself. So we went to her office right after school, waited there until she finished working. She then arranged for us to be tutored by our Indian neighbour after school, so that she could use her evenings for politically-related activities.
I remember how we often had to stay back at the neighbour’s house (with pet dogs that kind of scared me) longer than necessary, sometimes till late at night. On the rare evenings we got to return home early, we didn’t get to see our mother much because she would hit the sack, telling us that she was very tired. No, she never cooked. We ate out or bought take-outs – but often it was Ayah who returned later (because he was a self-entrepreneur, working in Butterworth) who ensured that we were well fed before we went to bed.
I remember how often we, the kids, became the cause of their quarrels, and they fought so fiercely that even until today, I could still remember the sound of their fights, their raised voices shouting at each other in the middle of the night and the sound of Ayah’s sharp slaps reaching her face. I remember crying myself to sleep, wishing so badly that I could be back with my grandparents in Kulim away from all the madness.
I remember how one day Ayah took my brothers and I out for a day out in Penang only to come back to a dark, cold house. She left us, taking with her most of the furniture and all her clothes. Ayah went to her close friend – another political activist – and forced him to spill out where my mother was. That very night, Ayah drove all over Sungai Petani until we finally located her. He divorced her for the third and final time right in front of my very eyes while my two younger brothers were asleep in the back seat of Ayah’s car.
I was eight, still young, but old enough to appreciate the more responsible and loving parent, although Ayah had always been rather garang too. Because I was over seven years old, when it came to custody I had the right to choose and it was easy for me to make up my mind. So did Abang. Because Ayah did not want to see the three of us separated, he fought for Adik’s custody and after a long trudging fight, he won the legal battle – a rarity back then because most mothers won custody for children under three years old.
I remember how she would came to pick us up at the school in Kulim and how we used to resist being taken by her – up to the point that some teachers had to ‘assist’ her, forcing us to enter her car and being driven away. I remember how Ayah would come to pick us up at the school in Sungai Petani and how gladly we would jumped in his car and went home to Tok and Tok Ayah in Kulim. This happened a few times; she even sent us to a school in Sungai Lalang to avoid us being picked up by Ayah – but when Ayah finally managed to get us back safely to Kulim, Ayah stopped sending us to school. Hence my younger brother and I missed almost one year of schooling in 1984.
Only after Ayah married Mak, I learned to live a ‘normal’ family life. No midnight fighting, no more sounds of slaps, and my brothers and I were well taken care of.
As for my biological mother – she married another, got two kids and divorced again. My half -brother stayed with her, while my half-sister was raised up by her paternal grandmother. After the divorce, their father had married another woman and he, like my father, remains happily married until now.
The truth is, I was so scared of becoming like her that when I was younger, I even decided not to marry to avoid becoming like her. I was worried since I do take more after her than my father in the looks compartment and since her blood flows in my veins – what if I too, turn out to be just like her? She married two men, got talaq numerous times (three times by my father alone) yet when her ex-husbands married another, they never have to utter another talaq, both happy and satisfied with their new families. Wouldn’t it be better to remain single than married but unable to sustain the marriage?
But as I grew older, I realized that it’s not necessary that I would turn out to be like her. So long as I remain careful not to repeat her mistakes, despite the same blood flowing in our veins, we are two different people. I can’t change her, I can’t change the past, but I am in charge of my own doings, my own future, with Allah’s permission.
If there’s any lesson to be learned, at least I could use my relationship with her as an example of what I want to avoid having with my own children. If my dysfunctional childhood history has to affect my children in any way, I hope it would only be for the better and that’s up to me.
It won’t take a genius to figure how I feel about Mak, but it’s a different story altogether when it comes to my biological mother. I respect her. I feel thankful to her for bearing me in her womb for 40 weeks and bringing me to this world. But if anyone ask me if I love her as a mother, I doubt I can say ‘yes’ sincerely. She’s the anti-model of a mother I want to be for my own children.
It has always been difficult to explain to others why I became rather unfeeling towards the woman who gave birth to me. Some pre-warned me that I would feel differently after I gave birth to a child myself, but no, giving birth to Huzaifah has not change how I feel towards my biological mother. Long long ago, as I was about to leave my high school, I got lots of friends telling me in person or just leaving notes in my autograph, to love my mother, because however bad she was, she’s still the mother who gave birth to me and that "syurga di bawah telapak kaki ibu". It was clear to them that I never look forward to her annual visits. In fact, she stopped visiting when I was 16, after she got pissed with something I said and cursed me to go to hell along with my father.
We did not contact each other until I returned from UK in 1998. Since then, I have made it a habit to visit her at least once a year, normally to stay for 3 or 4 days. She would normally ask me to drive her around Kedah/Perlis, visiting some relatives or family friends whenever I visit her. Our relationship is now cordial, as against warm. It used to be tinged with bitterness when I was younger, but there’s none of that now. I guess some things just fade with time.
Why the bitterness?
I guess she felt bitter because I chose Ayah over her during the fight for custody. So did my younger brother. Ayah even won custody for my youngest brother who was less than three years old. when they were divorced for the final time.
For most part of my childhood, I was raised up by my paternal grandparents. First out of necessity because my parents found it difficult for my mother to cope with both a baby and her second pregnancy; later because they were divorced and Ayah got me while my brother stayed with our mother. They remarried after that, mostly because Ayah was deeply concerned about my younger brother’s well being, and he wanted me to have a mother just like other kids. Still, Tok Ayah and Tok insisted on me staying with them even after my parents remarried. For all I can remember, I only stayed full time with my mother when I was six and eight – prior to that it was only for short stays every now and then.
I remember my eight year quite clearly though – and that was probably the worst year of my childhood.
I remember coming back home from school to an empty house with no lunch prepared for us, because our helper was not afraid to get away whenever she felt like it since she was not well supervised by my mother. Often we had to go to Nyah’s place for lunch, which luckily was not that far from our house back then.
I remember Ayah sacking the irresponsible maid and he asked my mother, a government servant, to be back home by the evening to look after the children herself. So we went to her office right after school, waited there until she finished working. She then arranged for us to be tutored by our Indian neighbour after school, so that she could use her evenings for politically-related activities.
I remember how we often had to stay back at the neighbour’s house (with pet dogs that kind of scared me) longer than necessary, sometimes till late at night. On the rare evenings we got to return home early, we didn’t get to see our mother much because she would hit the sack, telling us that she was very tired. No, she never cooked. We ate out or bought take-outs – but often it was Ayah who returned later (because he was a self-entrepreneur, working in Butterworth) who ensured that we were well fed before we went to bed.
I remember how often we, the kids, became the cause of their quarrels, and they fought so fiercely that even until today, I could still remember the sound of their fights, their raised voices shouting at each other in the middle of the night and the sound of Ayah’s sharp slaps reaching her face. I remember crying myself to sleep, wishing so badly that I could be back with my grandparents in Kulim away from all the madness.
I remember how one day Ayah took my brothers and I out for a day out in Penang only to come back to a dark, cold house. She left us, taking with her most of the furniture and all her clothes. Ayah went to her close friend – another political activist – and forced him to spill out where my mother was. That very night, Ayah drove all over Sungai Petani until we finally located her. He divorced her for the third and final time right in front of my very eyes while my two younger brothers were asleep in the back seat of Ayah’s car.
I was eight, still young, but old enough to appreciate the more responsible and loving parent, although Ayah had always been rather garang too. Because I was over seven years old, when it came to custody I had the right to choose and it was easy for me to make up my mind. So did Abang. Because Ayah did not want to see the three of us separated, he fought for Adik’s custody and after a long trudging fight, he won the legal battle – a rarity back then because most mothers won custody for children under three years old.
I remember how she would came to pick us up at the school in Kulim and how we used to resist being taken by her – up to the point that some teachers had to ‘assist’ her, forcing us to enter her car and being driven away. I remember how Ayah would come to pick us up at the school in Sungai Petani and how gladly we would jumped in his car and went home to Tok and Tok Ayah in Kulim. This happened a few times; she even sent us to a school in Sungai Lalang to avoid us being picked up by Ayah – but when Ayah finally managed to get us back safely to Kulim, Ayah stopped sending us to school. Hence my younger brother and I missed almost one year of schooling in 1984.
Only after Ayah married Mak, I learned to live a ‘normal’ family life. No midnight fighting, no more sounds of slaps, and my brothers and I were well taken care of.
As for my biological mother – she married another, got two kids and divorced again. My half -brother stayed with her, while my half-sister was raised up by her paternal grandmother. After the divorce, their father had married another woman and he, like my father, remains happily married until now.
The truth is, I was so scared of becoming like her that when I was younger, I even decided not to marry to avoid becoming like her. I was worried since I do take more after her than my father in the looks compartment and since her blood flows in my veins – what if I too, turn out to be just like her? She married two men, got talaq numerous times (three times by my father alone) yet when her ex-husbands married another, they never have to utter another talaq, both happy and satisfied with their new families. Wouldn’t it be better to remain single than married but unable to sustain the marriage?
But as I grew older, I realized that it’s not necessary that I would turn out to be like her. So long as I remain careful not to repeat her mistakes, despite the same blood flowing in our veins, we are two different people. I can’t change her, I can’t change the past, but I am in charge of my own doings, my own future, with Allah’s permission.
If there’s any lesson to be learned, at least I could use my relationship with her as an example of what I want to avoid having with my own children. If my dysfunctional childhood history has to affect my children in any way, I hope it would only be for the better and that’s up to me.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
We are not oppressed beings
I have read this some time ago, and somehow was immediately reminded of an e-mail I received at the time I was busy preparing for my wedding.
The sender was a Muslim Indian girl staying in the US. Her email voiced out her frustration about not having any say in her impending marriage – from her husband-to-be to the customes she should be wearing – all were determined by her parents. She told me that she was envious of me because I seemed to have all the final say – down to the minute details of my flower girls’ costumes. We are not oppressed beings but somehow there exists in our society people who somehow love the idea that we still are. Mind you - she was educated in the US, was working in the US, but when it comes to her marriage, nothing seems to be hers to decide. That's the way things work in her family. And she has to be content with that.
Not too long ago, a Muslim brother seemed to be somewhat torn between impressed and wary about me as I asked a lot of questions about our current resident before we moved in. I queried about wireless internet accessibility, evacuation point should there be any emergency (read: earthquake or typhoon), the nearest bicycle parking lot to the train station, apart from the normal queries about nearby shops where I could get cheap fresh food.
He was astonished when I queried about the bicycle parking lot – “You know how to ride a bicycle?”.
“Yes. (I’m a poor student using Mambusho scholarship to support three people, surely you don’t think I can afford buying and maintaining a car?) I ride a bike everywhere – to the train station, when I go shopping and all”.
He was further surprised when I stated rather firmly that I would like a tall truck which can fit our fridge so that I wouldn’t have to wait 6 hours to switch it on, which I would have to do should the fridge be laid horizontally in the truck. (As it turned out – they got a high truck for us, but some smartypant moved the fridge horizontally while they transferred it to the 5th floor – so we had no choice but to go through the 6 hours waiting period).
He turned to my husband and said, “Your wife knows everything. She can ride a bicycle, she knows about the evacuation site, she knows about unsecured wireless internet connection, she even knows about refrigerator.” While the words themselves sounded flattering, the way he said it undermined what could have been a compliment.
I have spoken to his wife – a homemaker who speaks little Nihongo and little English. We once were seated together at the back of their family car for almost 2 hours, barely saying anything to each other. I tried to strike a conversation, being the extrovert that I am, but she did not say much. The other time I met up with her, again I tried to chat her up, but to no avail. Her daughters are friendly though, so I spent more time talking to her 3 and 11 years old daughters. Maybe their mother was shy, but somehow I got the impression that she does not approve of the casual way I am dressed. She dons the purdah and black jubah, while I am normally seen in a pair of jeans, long colourful blouse with matching colourful tudung.
I am not sure whether after 18 years experience of living in Japan, she’s in the know about mundane stuff such as evacuation sites. Chances are high that she doesn’t know how to ride a bike nor drive a car, since her husband confessed that he has to ferry her everywhere. From the food she brought to a gathering I attended, she seems to be good in cooking, maybe gardening too, judging from the fresh coriander and mint leaves she distributed among those who gathered that night. Good cook, good gardener, probably good in needlework too, if her daughters dresses were any indication - the perfect picture of a domesticated housewife.
Still, just because I don’t do things the way she does, that doesn’t make me a bad Muslimah, right? Understandably I was rather offended by the snide I sensed in the remark made by her husband to mine – but then again, I guess it’s not just Muslim women, but also Muslim men who should be conditioned to accept their fellow Muslim sisters as liberated individuals.
The sender was a Muslim Indian girl staying in the US. Her email voiced out her frustration about not having any say in her impending marriage – from her husband-to-be to the customes she should be wearing – all were determined by her parents. She told me that she was envious of me because I seemed to have all the final say – down to the minute details of my flower girls’ costumes. We are not oppressed beings but somehow there exists in our society people who somehow love the idea that we still are. Mind you - she was educated in the US, was working in the US, but when it comes to her marriage, nothing seems to be hers to decide. That's the way things work in her family. And she has to be content with that.
Not too long ago, a Muslim brother seemed to be somewhat torn between impressed and wary about me as I asked a lot of questions about our current resident before we moved in. I queried about wireless internet accessibility, evacuation point should there be any emergency (read: earthquake or typhoon), the nearest bicycle parking lot to the train station, apart from the normal queries about nearby shops where I could get cheap fresh food.
He was astonished when I queried about the bicycle parking lot – “You know how to ride a bicycle?”.
“Yes. (I’m a poor student using Mambusho scholarship to support three people, surely you don’t think I can afford buying and maintaining a car?) I ride a bike everywhere – to the train station, when I go shopping and all”.
He was further surprised when I stated rather firmly that I would like a tall truck which can fit our fridge so that I wouldn’t have to wait 6 hours to switch it on, which I would have to do should the fridge be laid horizontally in the truck. (As it turned out – they got a high truck for us, but some smartypant moved the fridge horizontally while they transferred it to the 5th floor – so we had no choice but to go through the 6 hours waiting period).
He turned to my husband and said, “Your wife knows everything. She can ride a bicycle, she knows about the evacuation site, she knows about unsecured wireless internet connection, she even knows about refrigerator.” While the words themselves sounded flattering, the way he said it undermined what could have been a compliment.
I have spoken to his wife – a homemaker who speaks little Nihongo and little English. We once were seated together at the back of their family car for almost 2 hours, barely saying anything to each other. I tried to strike a conversation, being the extrovert that I am, but she did not say much. The other time I met up with her, again I tried to chat her up, but to no avail. Her daughters are friendly though, so I spent more time talking to her 3 and 11 years old daughters. Maybe their mother was shy, but somehow I got the impression that she does not approve of the casual way I am dressed. She dons the purdah and black jubah, while I am normally seen in a pair of jeans, long colourful blouse with matching colourful tudung.
I am not sure whether after 18 years experience of living in Japan, she’s in the know about mundane stuff such as evacuation sites. Chances are high that she doesn’t know how to ride a bike nor drive a car, since her husband confessed that he has to ferry her everywhere. From the food she brought to a gathering I attended, she seems to be good in cooking, maybe gardening too, judging from the fresh coriander and mint leaves she distributed among those who gathered that night. Good cook, good gardener, probably good in needlework too, if her daughters dresses were any indication - the perfect picture of a domesticated housewife.
Still, just because I don’t do things the way she does, that doesn’t make me a bad Muslimah, right? Understandably I was rather offended by the snide I sensed in the remark made by her husband to mine – but then again, I guess it’s not just Muslim women, but also Muslim men who should be conditioned to accept their fellow Muslim sisters as liberated individuals.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Cakap Ayam, Cakap Itik
Sementelahan sudah jadi Imam di masjid Asakusa, lulusan Qiraat dari universiti Al-Azhar pula, ada orang Pakistan dari Saitama mohon pertolongan Pak Ostad menjadi guru Al-Quran untuk anak-anaknya seramai 3 orang.
Isterinya Nihonjin, muslim sejak lebih sedekad lalu, tetapi kerana awalnya tiada kesedaran beragama (pengakuannya sendiri) dan bila sudah ada kesedaran pula kurang kesempatan untuk belajar atas faktor-faktor masa dan jarak, masih belum dapat membaca al-Quran. Alhamdulillah dia sudah hafal dan lancar bacaan dalam solat - itu saja sudah jadi satu perkara besar kerana ramai yang sudah 5-6 tahun menjadi Muslim pun belum terang butir bacaannya dalam solat, dan solat pun masih ikut-ikutan, tidak tahu yang mana rukun, yang mana sunat.
Anak-anak itu - Afuriz 9 tahun, Mehra 6 tahun dan Waris 4 tahun, hanya tahu berbahasa Nihongo sedangkan Pak Ostad pula, walau sudah lebih 3 bulan menetap di bumi sakura ini, masih belum tahu banyak perkataan Nihongo. Jadi, Pak Ostad dan anak-anak itu berkomunikasi bagai ayam-itik - Pak Ostad berbahasa Inggeris dengan slanga Melayu-Arab manakala anak-anak itu berbahasa Nihongo.
Afuriz, kerana sesekali diajar ayahnya, sudah agak mahir dalam membaca huruf-huruf sambung.
Mehra, kerana jarang-jarang mendapat peluang membaca dan menghafal, ingin mendekati huruf-huruf Arab melalui latihan menulis, bukan hanya membaca.
Waris, seperti kebanyakan anak-anak sebaya usianya, lebih gemar bermain-main dan hanya kenal huruf alif hingga ro.
Afuriz, Mehra dan Waris membaca huruf-huruf Arab dalam sebutan slanga Nihongo.
Pak Ostad sesekali bercakap Nihongo dalam slanga Arab (cara dia menyebut "wakaranai" persis menyebut "waqoronai" dan sering diusik teman kami Kamarol, yang kini berada di Malaysia untuk meraikan kelahiran anak keduanya, seorang puteri)
Afuriz mudah diajar kerana banyak mengikut cakap. Umurnya 9 tahun, jadi sudah mulai bertambah serius dalam pelajaran sepertimana perkembangannya di sekolah.
Mehra yang mahu lebih banyak latihan menulis, sesekali tidak mengikut Pak Ostad yang menyuruhnya berlatih membaca huruf-huruf Arab. Jadi Pak Ostad mengikut rentaknya, dan memberi shukudai latihan menulis di akhir kelas
Waris, setelah melihat kakaknya Mehra diberi shukudai tulisan, juga mahukan shukudai, jadi diberi shukudai tulisan yang lebih mudah. Aah, lagipun dia baru mengenal huruf sehingga "ro" (atau disebut ra oleh Waris, selaras sebutan Nihongo)
Bukan mudah mengajar anak-anak. Dua kali seminggu Pak Ostad mengajar anak-anak Melayu di Ichikawaono. Anak-anak sebaya usia berkumpul beramai-ramai, ada-ada saja tercetus ilham bermain itu ini. Sekejap-kejap, kalau ada seorang yang perlu ke bilik air, 4-5 orang juga mahu ke bilik air serentak, walhal tandas yang ada cuma satu. Bila disuruh mengulang-ulang apa yang sudah diajar, ramai pula yang serentak bertanya apa yang tidak faham. Memang kesian tengok Pak Ostad kepeningan melayan pertanyaan ini itu sambil perlu terus mengajar anak-anak yang lain tahap keupayaan membaca.
Kesiankan Pak Ostad di Ichikawaono, cuma sesekali saja dapat membantu kerana dia selalunya pergi sendirian. (Jem, kalau pindah ke Gyotoku, bolehlah hantar anak mengaji di Ichikawaono juga). Kesiankan Pak Ostad mengajar anak-anak Jepun di masjid, boleh juga bantu jadi penterjemah, sambil biarkan Huzaifah bermain-main dengan Waris.
Tapi selepas ini, bagaimana Pak Ostad rajin berpesan pada anak-anak Jepun itu untuk selalu renshuu (ulangkaji) mengaji huruf-huruf Al-Quran di rumah, begitu juga dia harus rajin renshuu pelajaran Nihongonya. Tidaklah selama-lamanya bercakap ayam-itik dengan mereka yang berbahasa Nihongo.
Isterinya Nihonjin, muslim sejak lebih sedekad lalu, tetapi kerana awalnya tiada kesedaran beragama (pengakuannya sendiri) dan bila sudah ada kesedaran pula kurang kesempatan untuk belajar atas faktor-faktor masa dan jarak, masih belum dapat membaca al-Quran. Alhamdulillah dia sudah hafal dan lancar bacaan dalam solat - itu saja sudah jadi satu perkara besar kerana ramai yang sudah 5-6 tahun menjadi Muslim pun belum terang butir bacaannya dalam solat, dan solat pun masih ikut-ikutan, tidak tahu yang mana rukun, yang mana sunat.
Anak-anak itu - Afuriz 9 tahun, Mehra 6 tahun dan Waris 4 tahun, hanya tahu berbahasa Nihongo sedangkan Pak Ostad pula, walau sudah lebih 3 bulan menetap di bumi sakura ini, masih belum tahu banyak perkataan Nihongo. Jadi, Pak Ostad dan anak-anak itu berkomunikasi bagai ayam-itik - Pak Ostad berbahasa Inggeris dengan slanga Melayu-Arab manakala anak-anak itu berbahasa Nihongo.
Afuriz, kerana sesekali diajar ayahnya, sudah agak mahir dalam membaca huruf-huruf sambung.
Mehra, kerana jarang-jarang mendapat peluang membaca dan menghafal, ingin mendekati huruf-huruf Arab melalui latihan menulis, bukan hanya membaca.
Waris, seperti kebanyakan anak-anak sebaya usianya, lebih gemar bermain-main dan hanya kenal huruf alif hingga ro.
Afuriz, Mehra dan Waris membaca huruf-huruf Arab dalam sebutan slanga Nihongo.
Pak Ostad sesekali bercakap Nihongo dalam slanga Arab (cara dia menyebut "wakaranai" persis menyebut "waqoronai" dan sering diusik teman kami Kamarol, yang kini berada di Malaysia untuk meraikan kelahiran anak keduanya, seorang puteri)
Afuriz mudah diajar kerana banyak mengikut cakap. Umurnya 9 tahun, jadi sudah mulai bertambah serius dalam pelajaran sepertimana perkembangannya di sekolah.
Mehra yang mahu lebih banyak latihan menulis, sesekali tidak mengikut Pak Ostad yang menyuruhnya berlatih membaca huruf-huruf Arab. Jadi Pak Ostad mengikut rentaknya, dan memberi shukudai latihan menulis di akhir kelas
Waris, setelah melihat kakaknya Mehra diberi shukudai tulisan, juga mahukan shukudai, jadi diberi shukudai tulisan yang lebih mudah. Aah, lagipun dia baru mengenal huruf sehingga "ro" (atau disebut ra oleh Waris, selaras sebutan Nihongo)
Bukan mudah mengajar anak-anak. Dua kali seminggu Pak Ostad mengajar anak-anak Melayu di Ichikawaono. Anak-anak sebaya usia berkumpul beramai-ramai, ada-ada saja tercetus ilham bermain itu ini. Sekejap-kejap, kalau ada seorang yang perlu ke bilik air, 4-5 orang juga mahu ke bilik air serentak, walhal tandas yang ada cuma satu. Bila disuruh mengulang-ulang apa yang sudah diajar, ramai pula yang serentak bertanya apa yang tidak faham. Memang kesian tengok Pak Ostad kepeningan melayan pertanyaan ini itu sambil perlu terus mengajar anak-anak yang lain tahap keupayaan membaca.
Kesiankan Pak Ostad di Ichikawaono, cuma sesekali saja dapat membantu kerana dia selalunya pergi sendirian. (Jem, kalau pindah ke Gyotoku, bolehlah hantar anak mengaji di Ichikawaono juga). Kesiankan Pak Ostad mengajar anak-anak Jepun di masjid, boleh juga bantu jadi penterjemah, sambil biarkan Huzaifah bermain-main dengan Waris.
Tapi selepas ini, bagaimana Pak Ostad rajin berpesan pada anak-anak Jepun itu untuk selalu renshuu (ulangkaji) mengaji huruf-huruf Al-Quran di rumah, begitu juga dia harus rajin renshuu pelajaran Nihongonya. Tidaklah selama-lamanya bercakap ayam-itik dengan mereka yang berbahasa Nihongo.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
New Muslimah, New Wife
A day after we were visited by the aforementioned Japanese muslimah, we received another request – for hubby to officiate a new Muslim revert and right after that, to act as qadhi for a nikah ceremony. Hubby who had never seen how these two ceremonies were carried out in Japan before, advised the man who came to see him to call a representative of Islamic Circle. He called the former president of Islamic Circle, who then asked hubby if he could do it. Hubby said that since he had never undertake such responsibility before and since he’s still not good in Nihongo, he would rather somebody else do it. The former president of Islamic Circle then advised the man to call him on Thursday morning to confirm his attendance for the new muslim reversion and wedding ceremony on Thursday night.
Thursday morning – we were awake to the sound of some Japanese man asking permission to enter the house. There were three of them, to do some renovation works on the house, as promised to us by Islamic Circle. The house was not in pristine condition when we entered it about two weeks ago – leaking roof, closet sliding doors falling apart, tattered wallpapers in living area, really shabby wallpapers in the toilet and wash area, broken toilet seat plus there were cockroaches everywhere. Back in Gyotoku, our house was a typical Japanese apartment – no ants, no cockroaches and the mosquitoes were quite recent, making their appearance as summer began. Therefore, after our first visit to the house, the representative of Islamic Circle promised that they would clean and do some reformation on the house before we entered it. They managed to clean the house up a bit before we entered it, but as for the reform, after not getting suitable quotations from various contractors, they decided to wait until after we were settled in before getting another quotation, which finally met their budget. Hence the belated renovation work being carried out on last Thursday.
That day, hubby spent most of the day rearranging books while I looked after Huzaifah and read a few children books at the small library in the Muslimah praying area. The house was such a mess, so I could not cook. We ate microwave-reheated leftover food from the day before and I had to bathe Huzaifah at the men wudhu’ area. It wasn’t until about five in the evening when the contractor called us, telling us that they were done and asked us to see for ourselves what had been done. He politely asked us to let the president of Islamic Circle know if anything is not up to standard and he would be in touch with the president.
Not long after we returned to the comfort of our newly reformed house, someone knocked on the door – asking us if the former president of Islamic Circle has already arrived since the Japanese girl who wished to revert to Islam as well as her husband-to-be and respective party were waiting downstairs. I let him used to mosque’s phone to call the Islamic Circle representative himself – and though they spoke in Urdu, it wasn’t difficult to guess that all was not well when the man handed the phone over to me.
“Sister, can your husband handle the conversion and marriage ceremony?”
I was stunned.
Just then, hubby emerged out of the bathroom and I asked him to speak directly to the Islamic Circle representative.
The Islamic Circle brother told us that he was still at home because the man who was supposed to call him that morning did not do so and so he thought that there would be no ceremony in the evening that day. He then asked if hubby could officiate these two ceremonies on Islamic Circle behalf, claiming that they were quite easy and nothing to worry about. Hubby then passed the phone back to me, so that I could get more details written down, since the ceremonies were supposed to be carried out in Nihongo.
The conversion ceremony is quite easy since the script is written out in both Arabic and Katakana with its meaning in Nihongo in the New Muslim certificate. All hubby had to do was to recite the syahadah as well as the rukun iman and ask the girl to repeat after him.
The nikah ceremony is a bit tricky though.
In a lintang pukang way, I wrote down the akad in Nihongo – including pre-nikah questions regarding the mahar and the witnesses, the akad questions to be asked to the bride and the groom and the pronouncement of them being legally wedded husband and wife. The Arabic khutbah nikah is written in the Islamic Circle diary, which hubby has, together with its translation in Nihongo. The doa is up to hubby. Finally, hubby should ask if there’s any additional gift for the bride from the groom, and with that final question, the ceremony would be over.
Hubby had to take care of the paperwork too – preparing both the New Muslim certificate as well as the Muslim Marriage certificate. By then it was already Maghrib. He quickly distributed the forms to be filled and signed by the respective parties, leaving them at that while he led Maghrib prayer.
After Maghrib, hubby and I had a small consultation session, on how to carry out both ceremonies smoothly. We checked with the party first if it was possible for us to conduct the ceremony in English, but since the bride-to-be could not speak English, we decided to heed the Islamic Circle brother's advice and and conducted it in Nihongo. I wrote out the akad in romanized Nihongo for hubby, double checking with the man acting as the arranger of the ceremony if the questions were appropriate and fitting. Since he is a Pakistani who married a Nihonjin himself, I felt reassured when he vetted the script I wrote for hubby.
So, on that blessed malam Jumaat, I witnessed the reversion of a new Muslim sister, followed by a simple nikah ceremony.
It was obvious that the new sister was not prepared for the reversion ceremony. Chances are, if she was well-prepared, reciting the syahadah would not be that tough for her. Because she stumbled here and there, despite reading the katakana form of the syahadah – she had to repeat the syahadah a couple of times. Reading Arabic sentences could be really challenging for Japanese due to the differences in pronunciation, so I was relieved to see the new sister being encouraged and assisted by another Japanese muslimah as she struggled in reciting the syahadah.
Right after the syahadah, she repeated the Rukun Iman in Arabic after hubby. After which, hubby gave a short introduction on Rukun Iman and Rukun Islam. The arranger of the ceremony and the groom took turn translating hubby’s explanation in halting English to Nihongo. Once in a while, her female friend helped out when the new sister seemed somewhat perplexed by what she heard. Obviously, she has a lot to learn about this religion she had chosen now.
Hubby chose to finish the paperwork for New Muslim registration after the syahadah recital. He then presented a copy of the New Muslim certificate along with a Islamic Cirlce diary which consisted a lot of interesting facts and data for Muslim to the new sister. She seemed excited, saying that she could not wait to show her father in Okinawa the certificate. Alhamdulillah, apparently she faced no objection from her parents when she told them that she would like to become a Muslim and marry a Muslim man.
Next, the nikah ceremony.
Hubby double checked with me, re-reading the questions one final time before he asked the respective parties the assigned questions. The akad was over and done with in no time – and the next thing he knew, he was to read the khutbah nikah. After he was done with the short khutbah, the bride and her female friend read the translation of the khutbah together. The friend said that she was not given a translation of the khutbah during her nikah ceremony three years ago, so it was also the first time she read for herself the content of the khutbah.
By Isyak, both ceremonies were over and done with. Took some pictures together, let the newly wed played with Huzaifah for a while and we exchanged phone numbers. The sister who has been a Muslim for the past three years confessed that she still has a lot to learn about Islam, just as mush as the new sister has. They live in Yokohama, far away from Asakusa, and they are both busy with work, so it’s difficult for them to attend any class organized in this mosque. I asked them to call me anytime anyway, should they have any question, and maybe I could introduce them to other Japanese muslimah who might address their questions more to their satisfaction. As it is, I am still learning Nihongo and might have problem explaining things since they can’t speak English well. They both thanked me profusely, and I wished the new sister the prerequisite “ganbatte ne” – it’s going to be a lot different now that she is both a new muslim and a new wife.
Hubby quickly finished the paperwork and handed over to both husband and wife a copy each of the Muslim Marriage certificate. The groom shared some sweets he received from his family in Pakistan and the party then departed, went on to have dinner together at a restaurant some where in Tokyo.
I noticed that there was no lafaz taklik – apparently, it’s not common here like it is in Malaysia for the groom to state there and then that if he ever be inconsiderate towards the wife in certain ways, they then would automatically be divorced. I wondered about it as I wondered about the new sister’s future with her hubby, remembering the recent sad story I heard from another Japanese sister – and I made a quick doa in my heart that their marriage would be blessed and long lasting.
Thursday morning – we were awake to the sound of some Japanese man asking permission to enter the house. There were three of them, to do some renovation works on the house, as promised to us by Islamic Circle. The house was not in pristine condition when we entered it about two weeks ago – leaking roof, closet sliding doors falling apart, tattered wallpapers in living area, really shabby wallpapers in the toilet and wash area, broken toilet seat plus there were cockroaches everywhere. Back in Gyotoku, our house was a typical Japanese apartment – no ants, no cockroaches and the mosquitoes were quite recent, making their appearance as summer began. Therefore, after our first visit to the house, the representative of Islamic Circle promised that they would clean and do some reformation on the house before we entered it. They managed to clean the house up a bit before we entered it, but as for the reform, after not getting suitable quotations from various contractors, they decided to wait until after we were settled in before getting another quotation, which finally met their budget. Hence the belated renovation work being carried out on last Thursday.
That day, hubby spent most of the day rearranging books while I looked after Huzaifah and read a few children books at the small library in the Muslimah praying area. The house was such a mess, so I could not cook. We ate microwave-reheated leftover food from the day before and I had to bathe Huzaifah at the men wudhu’ area. It wasn’t until about five in the evening when the contractor called us, telling us that they were done and asked us to see for ourselves what had been done. He politely asked us to let the president of Islamic Circle know if anything is not up to standard and he would be in touch with the president.
Not long after we returned to the comfort of our newly reformed house, someone knocked on the door – asking us if the former president of Islamic Circle has already arrived since the Japanese girl who wished to revert to Islam as well as her husband-to-be and respective party were waiting downstairs. I let him used to mosque’s phone to call the Islamic Circle representative himself – and though they spoke in Urdu, it wasn’t difficult to guess that all was not well when the man handed the phone over to me.
“Sister, can your husband handle the conversion and marriage ceremony?”
I was stunned.
Just then, hubby emerged out of the bathroom and I asked him to speak directly to the Islamic Circle representative.
The Islamic Circle brother told us that he was still at home because the man who was supposed to call him that morning did not do so and so he thought that there would be no ceremony in the evening that day. He then asked if hubby could officiate these two ceremonies on Islamic Circle behalf, claiming that they were quite easy and nothing to worry about. Hubby then passed the phone back to me, so that I could get more details written down, since the ceremonies were supposed to be carried out in Nihongo.
The conversion ceremony is quite easy since the script is written out in both Arabic and Katakana with its meaning in Nihongo in the New Muslim certificate. All hubby had to do was to recite the syahadah as well as the rukun iman and ask the girl to repeat after him.
The nikah ceremony is a bit tricky though.
In a lintang pukang way, I wrote down the akad in Nihongo – including pre-nikah questions regarding the mahar and the witnesses, the akad questions to be asked to the bride and the groom and the pronouncement of them being legally wedded husband and wife. The Arabic khutbah nikah is written in the Islamic Circle diary, which hubby has, together with its translation in Nihongo. The doa is up to hubby. Finally, hubby should ask if there’s any additional gift for the bride from the groom, and with that final question, the ceremony would be over.
Hubby had to take care of the paperwork too – preparing both the New Muslim certificate as well as the Muslim Marriage certificate. By then it was already Maghrib. He quickly distributed the forms to be filled and signed by the respective parties, leaving them at that while he led Maghrib prayer.
After Maghrib, hubby and I had a small consultation session, on how to carry out both ceremonies smoothly. We checked with the party first if it was possible for us to conduct the ceremony in English, but since the bride-to-be could not speak English, we decided to heed the Islamic Circle brother's advice and and conducted it in Nihongo. I wrote out the akad in romanized Nihongo for hubby, double checking with the man acting as the arranger of the ceremony if the questions were appropriate and fitting. Since he is a Pakistani who married a Nihonjin himself, I felt reassured when he vetted the script I wrote for hubby.
So, on that blessed malam Jumaat, I witnessed the reversion of a new Muslim sister, followed by a simple nikah ceremony.
It was obvious that the new sister was not prepared for the reversion ceremony. Chances are, if she was well-prepared, reciting the syahadah would not be that tough for her. Because she stumbled here and there, despite reading the katakana form of the syahadah – she had to repeat the syahadah a couple of times. Reading Arabic sentences could be really challenging for Japanese due to the differences in pronunciation, so I was relieved to see the new sister being encouraged and assisted by another Japanese muslimah as she struggled in reciting the syahadah.
Right after the syahadah, she repeated the Rukun Iman in Arabic after hubby. After which, hubby gave a short introduction on Rukun Iman and Rukun Islam. The arranger of the ceremony and the groom took turn translating hubby’s explanation in halting English to Nihongo. Once in a while, her female friend helped out when the new sister seemed somewhat perplexed by what she heard. Obviously, she has a lot to learn about this religion she had chosen now.
Hubby chose to finish the paperwork for New Muslim registration after the syahadah recital. He then presented a copy of the New Muslim certificate along with a Islamic Cirlce diary which consisted a lot of interesting facts and data for Muslim to the new sister. She seemed excited, saying that she could not wait to show her father in Okinawa the certificate. Alhamdulillah, apparently she faced no objection from her parents when she told them that she would like to become a Muslim and marry a Muslim man.
Next, the nikah ceremony.
Hubby double checked with me, re-reading the questions one final time before he asked the respective parties the assigned questions. The akad was over and done with in no time – and the next thing he knew, he was to read the khutbah nikah. After he was done with the short khutbah, the bride and her female friend read the translation of the khutbah together. The friend said that she was not given a translation of the khutbah during her nikah ceremony three years ago, so it was also the first time she read for herself the content of the khutbah.
By Isyak, both ceremonies were over and done with. Took some pictures together, let the newly wed played with Huzaifah for a while and we exchanged phone numbers. The sister who has been a Muslim for the past three years confessed that she still has a lot to learn about Islam, just as mush as the new sister has. They live in Yokohama, far away from Asakusa, and they are both busy with work, so it’s difficult for them to attend any class organized in this mosque. I asked them to call me anytime anyway, should they have any question, and maybe I could introduce them to other Japanese muslimah who might address their questions more to their satisfaction. As it is, I am still learning Nihongo and might have problem explaining things since they can’t speak English well. They both thanked me profusely, and I wished the new sister the prerequisite “ganbatte ne” – it’s going to be a lot different now that she is both a new muslim and a new wife.
Hubby quickly finished the paperwork and handed over to both husband and wife a copy each of the Muslim Marriage certificate. The groom shared some sweets he received from his family in Pakistan and the party then departed, went on to have dinner together at a restaurant some where in Tokyo.
I noticed that there was no lafaz taklik – apparently, it’s not common here like it is in Malaysia for the groom to state there and then that if he ever be inconsiderate towards the wife in certain ways, they then would automatically be divorced. I wondered about it as I wondered about the new sister’s future with her hubby, remembering the recent sad story I heard from another Japanese sister – and I made a quick doa in my heart that their marriage would be blessed and long lasting.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Seeking advice regarding marriage and divorce
I need some advice.
There’s a Japanese Muslimah seeking for divorce from her Pakistani husband but she has no idea where to turn to. The husband has left her three years ago, and has stopped sending money for their 12 year old daughter about three months ago. She hasn’t talked to him since 2003, and up until April this year, all communications were done via phone calls to her brother in law. The brother in law has changed his phone number, her parents-in-law in Pakistan have moved and she has no idea of their new wherabouts and so she is at a loss now, not knowing how to contact her ‘husband’.
She is seeking for her divorce to be finalized so that she can marry another an Indonesian Muslim. She went places, seeking advice on what to do – the Japan Muslim Association, Islamic Center, various mosques – but all to no avail, since wherever she went to requires the presence of her ‘husband’ too. As for turning to Japanese legal system, a divorce would be a lot easier if the husband has signed a mutual divorce paper; but without his proper consent, she has to wait for about seven years before she can claim their marriage is nullified, or so she told me. I have no idea about the Japanese family law, but yes I have seen a lot of rinkon (divorce) papers signed in dramas and I knew it would be easy on her if the husband had given her the courtesy of signing a rinkon paper.
We recommended her talking to somebody from Islamic Circle, but she refused. She claimed that she had called numerous knowledgeable or highly influential Pakistani or Indian Muslims in Japan, but often her request to meet them were turned down, with lots of excuses. She went to the Pakistan Embassy to seek some advice, but she was turned away rather rashly. She tried seeking help from her fellow Japanese muslimahs, but after a nasty incident of meeting strangers who harshly labeled her as a bad wife who does not know how to take good care of her family, she stopped trusting fellow Japanese muslimahs who are married to Pakistanis or Indians.
She recalled her wedding quite fondly – in a nice hotel, attended by their then close friends, the ceremony presided by a Hafeez from India. She remembered a lot of people offering their help for her to understand Islam better at that time, teaching her a lot of new things. She undertook major changes in her life – donning the hijab, praying five times a day, changing her diet to consume only Halal food. She began to drift further apart from her family and former friends, yet she was not warmly welcomed by her husband’s family. Her parents in law, in fact, tried their best to split the couple up so that the husband could marry a ‘proper’ Muslimah from back home. That in itself was a cause for stress, but somehow she found relief in her faith in Allah.
And now, more than a decade later, she remains a firm believer in Allah and Islam, despite discreditable treatment from her ‘husband’. "He will receive punishment from Allah, will he not? Allah has been kind to me and my daughter. Despite not having a stable job, somehow we were never left without food or shelter. We do not lead a comfortable life the way it used to be, but alhamdulillah, we still survive," she said.
She found her new ‘friend’ when she was working in an Indonesian shop (where she received shabby treatment by the shopkeeper’s wife, a Muslim, who claimed that they were only giving the job to her out of pity to her child. Initially she was promised a monthly wage of 50,000 yen, but after 3 months of receiving only 20,000 yen a month with promises of more later, she quitted. She found out that the shopkeeper's wife was a dishonest women, and she could not stand working for such a dishonest person). This new ‘friend’ has shown a lot of support, both emotionally and financially, during the last few months and has asked her to go to Indonesia and marry him there.
However;
- How could she marry another without a proper divorce from her current ‘husband’?
- How is she going to seek divorce when she has no idea where her ‘husband’ is and has no idea where to start looking for him since she now has no contact with not only him, but also with none of his family members or friends?
- She’s thinking of seeking help in getting a divorce in Indonesia, since it might be easier to plead her case there. But, even if she succeeds in getting a divorce in Indonesia and marries her ‘friend’, what about his status when they return to Japan?
- Right now, he’s on temporary business visa. He plans to make Japan his permanent resident, which would not be a big problem if he’s married to a Japanese since he could get a spousal visa. But without a proper rinkon document, she could not submit a new kekkon (marriage) document, thus it would be impossible for him to get a spousal visa
- The Japanese love for rules and regulations could cause a lot of grief for gaijin like him, and yes, it would also be a problem for them to have children together without the proper marriage documents.
- What can they do to overcome all the matters stated above?
So there – could anybody offer me some advice to pass on to this sister?
There’s a Japanese Muslimah seeking for divorce from her Pakistani husband but she has no idea where to turn to. The husband has left her three years ago, and has stopped sending money for their 12 year old daughter about three months ago. She hasn’t talked to him since 2003, and up until April this year, all communications were done via phone calls to her brother in law. The brother in law has changed his phone number, her parents-in-law in Pakistan have moved and she has no idea of their new wherabouts and so she is at a loss now, not knowing how to contact her ‘husband’.
She is seeking for her divorce to be finalized so that she can marry another an Indonesian Muslim. She went places, seeking advice on what to do – the Japan Muslim Association, Islamic Center, various mosques – but all to no avail, since wherever she went to requires the presence of her ‘husband’ too. As for turning to Japanese legal system, a divorce would be a lot easier if the husband has signed a mutual divorce paper; but without his proper consent, she has to wait for about seven years before she can claim their marriage is nullified, or so she told me. I have no idea about the Japanese family law, but yes I have seen a lot of rinkon (divorce) papers signed in dramas and I knew it would be easy on her if the husband had given her the courtesy of signing a rinkon paper.
We recommended her talking to somebody from Islamic Circle, but she refused. She claimed that she had called numerous knowledgeable or highly influential Pakistani or Indian Muslims in Japan, but often her request to meet them were turned down, with lots of excuses. She went to the Pakistan Embassy to seek some advice, but she was turned away rather rashly. She tried seeking help from her fellow Japanese muslimahs, but after a nasty incident of meeting strangers who harshly labeled her as a bad wife who does not know how to take good care of her family, she stopped trusting fellow Japanese muslimahs who are married to Pakistanis or Indians.
She recalled her wedding quite fondly – in a nice hotel, attended by their then close friends, the ceremony presided by a Hafeez from India. She remembered a lot of people offering their help for her to understand Islam better at that time, teaching her a lot of new things. She undertook major changes in her life – donning the hijab, praying five times a day, changing her diet to consume only Halal food. She began to drift further apart from her family and former friends, yet she was not warmly welcomed by her husband’s family. Her parents in law, in fact, tried their best to split the couple up so that the husband could marry a ‘proper’ Muslimah from back home. That in itself was a cause for stress, but somehow she found relief in her faith in Allah.
And now, more than a decade later, she remains a firm believer in Allah and Islam, despite discreditable treatment from her ‘husband’. "He will receive punishment from Allah, will he not? Allah has been kind to me and my daughter. Despite not having a stable job, somehow we were never left without food or shelter. We do not lead a comfortable life the way it used to be, but alhamdulillah, we still survive," she said.
She found her new ‘friend’ when she was working in an Indonesian shop (where she received shabby treatment by the shopkeeper’s wife, a Muslim, who claimed that they were only giving the job to her out of pity to her child. Initially she was promised a monthly wage of 50,000 yen, but after 3 months of receiving only 20,000 yen a month with promises of more later, she quitted. She found out that the shopkeeper's wife was a dishonest women, and she could not stand working for such a dishonest person). This new ‘friend’ has shown a lot of support, both emotionally and financially, during the last few months and has asked her to go to Indonesia and marry him there.
However;
- How could she marry another without a proper divorce from her current ‘husband’?
- How is she going to seek divorce when she has no idea where her ‘husband’ is and has no idea where to start looking for him since she now has no contact with not only him, but also with none of his family members or friends?
- She’s thinking of seeking help in getting a divorce in Indonesia, since it might be easier to plead her case there. But, even if she succeeds in getting a divorce in Indonesia and marries her ‘friend’, what about his status when they return to Japan?
- Right now, he’s on temporary business visa. He plans to make Japan his permanent resident, which would not be a big problem if he’s married to a Japanese since he could get a spousal visa. But without a proper rinkon document, she could not submit a new kekkon (marriage) document, thus it would be impossible for him to get a spousal visa
- The Japanese love for rules and regulations could cause a lot of grief for gaijin like him, and yes, it would also be a problem for them to have children together without the proper marriage documents.
- What can they do to overcome all the matters stated above?
So there – could anybody offer me some advice to pass on to this sister?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Moving back to Tokyo - Part 2
(* Ok, for the record, there’s yet any internet connection at our new place. There are some wireless internet connections available – but none unsecured, so I no longer have ‘free’ internet access like it used to be in Gyotoku. I miss having 24/7 internet connections at home – especially now since I’m in the middle of preparing for my graduate school’s entrance exam/interview which insya Allah will be held on June 18th - yup, on a Sunday morning)
I’m still getting used to living on the 5th floor with no elevator available. Previously in Gyotoku, our room was on the third floor and some friends refer to it as “rumah atas bukit”. Now that we are on the fifth floor, some began to call it “rumah atas gunung”. But yes, it’s good exercise. Hubby said that we are saving ourselves the trouble of going to a gym to keep ourselves fit. Personally, I try not to mind too – so long as we never ever forget anything – keys, baby’s bottle, extra diapers, etc - before we leave home. (oh yes, already I had forgotten Huzaifah’s bottle once, with freshly made milk on the dinner table. Previously, I had to pass the kitchen before exiting the house, so I’d never forgotten to pack the bottle – but now we no longer have to pass the kitchen in order to exit the house, so there… Alhamdulillah, Huzaifah is a flexible child, so that day I fed him milk using a glass and spoon.)
If my Mak is here, she would be pleased to witness first hand how industrious hubby has been lately. I must admit that he is doing a whole lot more than me in making the place as comfortable as possible for us – in fact, he did most of the unpacking, leaving only the kitchen and the toilet/bathroom for me to attend to. In the first place, he was the one who did most of the packing too, mostly done when I was away at school, only leaving the final vacuuming and mopping for me to attend to.
We moved to Asakusa on Saturday evening. At first we were told that we would be moving at around 9.00 to 10.00 a.m. Later, we were told that the scheduled had been postponed to around 5.00 to 6.00 p.m.. Hubby and I just agreed to whatever ICOJ arranged because ICOJ paid for the rental truck. Hubby just informed some Malaysian friends about the proposed time for us to move since they had offered to help us.
Thinking it was going to be 5.00 p.m. when we finally moved, we delayed some packing until the very last minute – food in the fridge, some clothes, etc. However, the people from ICOJ arrived at about 3.30 p.m., telling us that we would be moving things downstairs from then on. Kelam kabut we finished the last minute packing and called up friends living nearest to us to engage their help,as well as calling distant friends informing them of the change and advised them not to come.
When I moved from Komaba to Gyotoku, everything could be packed within a small mini truck. This time though, it had to be a 2 tonne truck because hubby had accumulated a lot of stuff in the past three months or so, mostly for Huzaifah – two large boxes of toys, baby car seat, baby walker, baby seat (for feeding him) etc. At one time everybody was worried that we could not fit everything inside the truck, but alhamdulillah, macam ajaib la jugak, the men managed to pack everything inside the truck. By everything, I’m referring to almost 20 boxes of various sizes, about 10 suitcases/bags of different sizes, the big fridge, the 25 inch TV, numerous shelves and drawers, chairs, tables. Yup, it was quite a sight to behold.
By 7.00 p.m, alhamdulillah, we were done with it. We transferred the ownership of our washing machine and gas cooker to Kamarol, since these items were already available at our new place. Actually, there were several other items already available at our new place such as dinner table and chairs as well as sofas, but hubby insisted on bringing everything because disposing large stuff in Japan is not as easy as we can do it in Malaysia. And alhamdulillah, because the helpers were mostly ICOJ people, including the driver of the truck, this time around, although the truck was not equipped with navigator system, the trip from Gyotoku to Asakusa was smooth and steady – no sightseeing tour like I experienced the first time I moved in March.
Hubby and I started unpacking that very night, and hubby went to bed only after solat Subuh, at about 3.30 a.m., after almost 80% of unpacking was done. Though I did not do much carrying, instead, just taking care of Huzaifah while others were moving the stuff (reads: advising others on which boxes is heavy/light, and where to put them upon arrival in Asakusa), I somehow felt a bit drained that night, what with Huzaifah finding difficulty going to sleep, like he usually does in an unfamiliar surrounding. Somehow, I managed to clean the kitchen until it seems functional enough and rasmikan it for the first time by cooking instant noodles as dinner for us that night.
Some friends had advised me in advance on how strict and particular house owners and real estate agents could be upon final inspection of the house. I had arranged to meet both the house owner and real estate agent to nullify the contract at 1.00 p.m. on Sunday. Hubby and I arrived at the house for final clean up at around 11.45 a.m., so just it’s not difficult to imagine our surprise when the real estate agent showed up at 12.00 p.m. I was in the middle of vacuuming while hubby was in the middle of disposing some chair and table (rather illegally because he just took them to a large garbage dump at a public park not far from our home.) There was still some space left to be vacuumed when Huzaifah started crying for my attention. The real estate agent then asked me to pick Huzaifah up and he continued with the vacuuming. As I held Huzaifah in my left arm, I started mopping the kitchen floor, and then the house owner arrived. I have asked a friend who is good in Nihongo to assist us during the final check up, but since we have arranged to meet at 1.00 p.m., he was not there yet. Quickly called him up and he showed up not long after that.
Since it was a last minute arrangement, we still had to pay the rent for June, but we did get some balance from the one-month deposit I paid before. After the real estate agent showed us the uneven spots (caused by spilled food) on two tatami mats which had to be changed (and I had anticipated in advance) and explaining how much I had to pay for water bill in May, I got the 48000 yen balance from the deposit on the spot as I finally returned the house key to the owner. I thanked him and apologized for moving out so soon after he had kindly installed new air-conditioner and hot water supply for the kitchen as per my request. Understandably he’s not happy about me moving because it will take some time to find new tenant, but (so typically Japanese) he did not show any sign of dreariness, instead he congratulated hubby warmly and wished us all the best in our new place.
Honestly, I liked living in Gyotoku. No hassle to change train to go to school, free bicycle parking at Seiyu, really cheap food could be found at various shops (various vegetables for less than 100 yen a pack, 10 eggs for less than 100 yen, etc etc etc), a reliable Malaysian community living not so far away and it was quite easy for hubby to go and teach the Malaysian kids in Ichikawaono. But things change, and often we have to change as situation changes, just like in this instant.
Nevertheless, change is often for the better. And that’s exactly what I’m praying for right now.
I’m still getting used to living on the 5th floor with no elevator available. Previously in Gyotoku, our room was on the third floor and some friends refer to it as “rumah atas bukit”. Now that we are on the fifth floor, some began to call it “rumah atas gunung”. But yes, it’s good exercise. Hubby said that we are saving ourselves the trouble of going to a gym to keep ourselves fit. Personally, I try not to mind too – so long as we never ever forget anything – keys, baby’s bottle, extra diapers, etc - before we leave home. (oh yes, already I had forgotten Huzaifah’s bottle once, with freshly made milk on the dinner table. Previously, I had to pass the kitchen before exiting the house, so I’d never forgotten to pack the bottle – but now we no longer have to pass the kitchen in order to exit the house, so there… Alhamdulillah, Huzaifah is a flexible child, so that day I fed him milk using a glass and spoon.)
If my Mak is here, she would be pleased to witness first hand how industrious hubby has been lately. I must admit that he is doing a whole lot more than me in making the place as comfortable as possible for us – in fact, he did most of the unpacking, leaving only the kitchen and the toilet/bathroom for me to attend to. In the first place, he was the one who did most of the packing too, mostly done when I was away at school, only leaving the final vacuuming and mopping for me to attend to.
We moved to Asakusa on Saturday evening. At first we were told that we would be moving at around 9.00 to 10.00 a.m. Later, we were told that the scheduled had been postponed to around 5.00 to 6.00 p.m.. Hubby and I just agreed to whatever ICOJ arranged because ICOJ paid for the rental truck. Hubby just informed some Malaysian friends about the proposed time for us to move since they had offered to help us.
Thinking it was going to be 5.00 p.m. when we finally moved, we delayed some packing until the very last minute – food in the fridge, some clothes, etc. However, the people from ICOJ arrived at about 3.30 p.m., telling us that we would be moving things downstairs from then on. Kelam kabut we finished the last minute packing and called up friends living nearest to us to engage their help,as well as calling distant friends informing them of the change and advised them not to come.
When I moved from Komaba to Gyotoku, everything could be packed within a small mini truck. This time though, it had to be a 2 tonne truck because hubby had accumulated a lot of stuff in the past three months or so, mostly for Huzaifah – two large boxes of toys, baby car seat, baby walker, baby seat (for feeding him) etc. At one time everybody was worried that we could not fit everything inside the truck, but alhamdulillah, macam ajaib la jugak, the men managed to pack everything inside the truck. By everything, I’m referring to almost 20 boxes of various sizes, about 10 suitcases/bags of different sizes, the big fridge, the 25 inch TV, numerous shelves and drawers, chairs, tables. Yup, it was quite a sight to behold.
By 7.00 p.m, alhamdulillah, we were done with it. We transferred the ownership of our washing machine and gas cooker to Kamarol, since these items were already available at our new place. Actually, there were several other items already available at our new place such as dinner table and chairs as well as sofas, but hubby insisted on bringing everything because disposing large stuff in Japan is not as easy as we can do it in Malaysia. And alhamdulillah, because the helpers were mostly ICOJ people, including the driver of the truck, this time around, although the truck was not equipped with navigator system, the trip from Gyotoku to Asakusa was smooth and steady – no sightseeing tour like I experienced the first time I moved in March.
Hubby and I started unpacking that very night, and hubby went to bed only after solat Subuh, at about 3.30 a.m., after almost 80% of unpacking was done. Though I did not do much carrying, instead, just taking care of Huzaifah while others were moving the stuff (reads: advising others on which boxes is heavy/light, and where to put them upon arrival in Asakusa), I somehow felt a bit drained that night, what with Huzaifah finding difficulty going to sleep, like he usually does in an unfamiliar surrounding. Somehow, I managed to clean the kitchen until it seems functional enough and rasmikan it for the first time by cooking instant noodles as dinner for us that night.
Some friends had advised me in advance on how strict and particular house owners and real estate agents could be upon final inspection of the house. I had arranged to meet both the house owner and real estate agent to nullify the contract at 1.00 p.m. on Sunday. Hubby and I arrived at the house for final clean up at around 11.45 a.m., so just it’s not difficult to imagine our surprise when the real estate agent showed up at 12.00 p.m. I was in the middle of vacuuming while hubby was in the middle of disposing some chair and table (rather illegally because he just took them to a large garbage dump at a public park not far from our home.) There was still some space left to be vacuumed when Huzaifah started crying for my attention. The real estate agent then asked me to pick Huzaifah up and he continued with the vacuuming. As I held Huzaifah in my left arm, I started mopping the kitchen floor, and then the house owner arrived. I have asked a friend who is good in Nihongo to assist us during the final check up, but since we have arranged to meet at 1.00 p.m., he was not there yet. Quickly called him up and he showed up not long after that.
Since it was a last minute arrangement, we still had to pay the rent for June, but we did get some balance from the one-month deposit I paid before. After the real estate agent showed us the uneven spots (caused by spilled food) on two tatami mats which had to be changed (and I had anticipated in advance) and explaining how much I had to pay for water bill in May, I got the 48000 yen balance from the deposit on the spot as I finally returned the house key to the owner. I thanked him and apologized for moving out so soon after he had kindly installed new air-conditioner and hot water supply for the kitchen as per my request. Understandably he’s not happy about me moving because it will take some time to find new tenant, but (so typically Japanese) he did not show any sign of dreariness, instead he congratulated hubby warmly and wished us all the best in our new place.
Honestly, I liked living in Gyotoku. No hassle to change train to go to school, free bicycle parking at Seiyu, really cheap food could be found at various shops (various vegetables for less than 100 yen a pack, 10 eggs for less than 100 yen, etc etc etc), a reliable Malaysian community living not so far away and it was quite easy for hubby to go and teach the Malaysian kids in Ichikawaono. But things change, and often we have to change as situation changes, just like in this instant.
Nevertheless, change is often for the better. And that’s exactly what I’m praying for right now.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Moving back to Tokyo
Hubby and I went on a road show of some sort when I went back for a short while late last year, trying to convince everybody that it would be better for us to be together in Japan while I’m studying here.
Coming from a large family (his late grandfather was married to 4 women when he passed away, and 2 more before that, one passed away before he did and the other was divorced), when he announced that he would take the baby and join me in Japan after he finished his KPLI course last year, he was subject to lots of scrutiny. Suddenly he found himself getting a lot of unheeded advice and opinions – mostly discouraging him from making such a move.
People questioned about:
"Nanti hilang seniority. Habis belajar terus amik cuti pulakOrang lain dah naik pangkat, dia tak naik lagi"
"Nanti balik Malaysia ni nanti, ada ke kerja? Konfem ke ada kerja?Tak nanti dok rumah tak kena panggil posting pulak kang"
"Boleh ke tu nanti nak hidup ramai-ramai tu tak dapat elaun famili?"
"Nanti dia pergi sana, sapa nak jaga kelas agama kat Masjid Rasah? Kat Surau Labu?"
"Reti ke dia nak jaga baby tu? Pandai ke?"
"Nanti esok-esok bini tak ungkit ke laki takdak duit sendiri, dok makan duit bini je?"
"Tu takdak gaji nanti, nak ke dia bagi kat Mak dia macam dia dok bagi bulan-bulan sekarang ni?"
Etc, etc, etc
Oh yes, it was hurtful. And it wasn’t easy to convince everybody, but hubby and I approached the most influential figures among the clan to explain our situation and to get their blessings. My parents-in- law were in fact, the biggest hurdle to overcome, because they were adamant in not allowing their son to take unpaid leave so soon after he had just finished his KPLI.
One day before I returned to Japan, I pleaded to my mother in law, asking her to understand how difficult it was for me being so far away from my son for so long so soon after giving birth to him. And whatever concern she voiced out, I countered them persuasively. No, I would never look down at my hubby for not earning anything because for me his willingness to support me by being a stay-at-home parent to look after Huzaifah while I study means a lot more. We will make do with what little that I got because the main thing is for a family to stay together through thick and thin. While he may be losing his adult students in Seremban area, there are a lot more Ustazs available to act as his substitute while he is away. On the other hand, there is rarely any Ustazs found in Japan, and thus he might be needed more in Japan. I promised her that we will continue our monthly contribution to her even while hubby is in Japan, deducting it from my monthly salary in Malaysia. I convinced her that I am aware that hubby's first priority would always be as her son and then as my husband and my son's father, thus I plead for her blessings because I do not want my hubby to do anything against her wishes and blessings. We promised that hubby will try to benefit the Muslims in Japan with what little knowledge he has, that besides undertaking his responsibility to take care of his nucleus family, he is also going to Japan for dakwah purpose. I pleaded with her, trying my best not to shed any tears, but did so in the process unintentionally.
Gradually, my mother-in-law's stand shifted. Gradually, people stop making noises and we finally got his parents blessings for hubby to bring along Huzaifah and joined me in Japan.
#####
After some time adjusting to life in Japan, hubby began setting up classes – both for Malaysian children and adult. He also began to make friends with other Muslims attending Hira’ Mosque, not far from our home. He also began joining weekly gathering at the Mosque organized by Islamic Circle of Japan, the organization responsible for the existence and maintenance of four mosques and two musollas in Japan.
It was during these gatherings when he was asked by the former president of ICOJ, Brother Jamil Ahmad on whether or not he would be interested to take up the position to be an instructor at an Islamic school soon to be created. He said that let him consult me first because he has to take care of the baby whenever I am away and I have classes 4 days in a week.
Not long after that, the same person approached him again, asking whether or not he would be interested to be an Imam in a mosque in the Tokyo area. If he agreed, he might have to move to Tokyo, which Brother Jamil said would be to my benefit too since I;m studying in Tokyo. Once again, hubby stressed that he has a baby to take care of and he needed to consult me before he could agree to anything.
And so last week, he took me to the mosque, and we had a small discussion with Brother Abdul Salam, the Sec-Gen of ICOJ and two other prominent members of ICOJ. Brother Abdul Salam showed us a picture of the Daar Al Arqam mosque and explained to us the duties of an Imam in that mosque, which is also the headquarter of ICOJ. Basically, if he agrees, hubby is to lead the prayers there, most crucially for Jumu’ah prayer, to act as caretaker of the mosque (Tok siak of some sort) as well as taking care of some administrative tasks for ICOJ like forwarding queries, calls and faxes to the President and Sec-Gen.
They believe that it won’t be problem for us because the Imam could live there – the residence is on the top floor of the 5-storey mosque building, and that even if I need to attend any class on Friday when hubby has to perform his major task of leading the Jumu’ah prayer, they could assist in arranging for some babysitter. In exchange of being the Imam there, ICOJ would provide free residence inclusive of utilities. That means no monthly rent and no monthly water, electricity and gas bills to take care of.
I asked hubby to perform solat istikharah. He consulted both sets of parents – in Seremban and in PJ. All of them gave their blessings. Ayah in particular was so stunned of this news that he felt down (alhamdulillah he landed safely on the bed) and started crying upon being told by Mak. I later teased Ayah about it, to which he replied solemnly, “Ayah terharu doa Ayah dimakbulkan Allah sebelum Ayah pejam mata. Inilah yang Ayah dok doa selalu – minta anak cucu Ayah dapat jalankan kerja dakwah, dapat sumbangkan untuk Islam. Mana kita nak sangka Allah nak bagi rezeki macam ni?”
True, neither hubby nor I expected this kind of offer. In fact, we were ready to stay in Gyotoku and try to contribute what little we could for Islam among the local Muslim community. Being given a chance to be an Imam in mosque located in Tokyo means insya Allah hubby will get to know a larger audience with various background, exposing him to an international Muslim community in Japan, opening up windows of opportunities for him and I to share what little we know and learn more from others. Chances are we could also initiate the involvement of more Malaysians in ICOJ related activities. Like somebody was saying the other day – “Bukan selalu nak jumpa Pak Imam Melayu kat Masjid di Jepun nih…” By the way, hubby definitely has found a motivation for him to study Nihongo now. Otherwise he would probably be the only Imam in a Japanese mosque who could not speak Japanese at all.
Now insya Allah we could alleviate his family fear about him not earning any income while he is accompanying me in Japan. In fact, the small sum ICOJ promised as monthly allowance for hubby is considerably more (in Ringgit Malaysia) than what he used to earn as a high school teacher before he came to Japan. We are thinking of sponsoring his parents to come and visit us here in Japan and let them see for themselves how we are faring here. We were prepared to make do with my monthly stipend alone, and then alhamdulillah, this offer came as rezeki from Allah.
So, tomorrow insya Allah we will move to Asakusa, and I will become the Pak Imam’s wife (but please, please, please don't call me Mak Aji, okay?)
Coming from a large family (his late grandfather was married to 4 women when he passed away, and 2 more before that, one passed away before he did and the other was divorced), when he announced that he would take the baby and join me in Japan after he finished his KPLI course last year, he was subject to lots of scrutiny. Suddenly he found himself getting a lot of unheeded advice and opinions – mostly discouraging him from making such a move.
People questioned about:
"Nanti hilang seniority. Habis belajar terus amik cuti pulakOrang lain dah naik pangkat, dia tak naik lagi"
"Nanti balik Malaysia ni nanti, ada ke kerja? Konfem ke ada kerja?Tak nanti dok rumah tak kena panggil posting pulak kang"
"Boleh ke tu nanti nak hidup ramai-ramai tu tak dapat elaun famili?"
"Nanti dia pergi sana, sapa nak jaga kelas agama kat Masjid Rasah? Kat Surau Labu?"
"Reti ke dia nak jaga baby tu? Pandai ke?"
"Nanti esok-esok bini tak ungkit ke laki takdak duit sendiri, dok makan duit bini je?"
"Tu takdak gaji nanti, nak ke dia bagi kat Mak dia macam dia dok bagi bulan-bulan sekarang ni?"
Etc, etc, etc
Oh yes, it was hurtful. And it wasn’t easy to convince everybody, but hubby and I approached the most influential figures among the clan to explain our situation and to get their blessings. My parents-in- law were in fact, the biggest hurdle to overcome, because they were adamant in not allowing their son to take unpaid leave so soon after he had just finished his KPLI.
One day before I returned to Japan, I pleaded to my mother in law, asking her to understand how difficult it was for me being so far away from my son for so long so soon after giving birth to him. And whatever concern she voiced out, I countered them persuasively. No, I would never look down at my hubby for not earning anything because for me his willingness to support me by being a stay-at-home parent to look after Huzaifah while I study means a lot more. We will make do with what little that I got because the main thing is for a family to stay together through thick and thin. While he may be losing his adult students in Seremban area, there are a lot more Ustazs available to act as his substitute while he is away. On the other hand, there is rarely any Ustazs found in Japan, and thus he might be needed more in Japan. I promised her that we will continue our monthly contribution to her even while hubby is in Japan, deducting it from my monthly salary in Malaysia. I convinced her that I am aware that hubby's first priority would always be as her son and then as my husband and my son's father, thus I plead for her blessings because I do not want my hubby to do anything against her wishes and blessings. We promised that hubby will try to benefit the Muslims in Japan with what little knowledge he has, that besides undertaking his responsibility to take care of his nucleus family, he is also going to Japan for dakwah purpose. I pleaded with her, trying my best not to shed any tears, but did so in the process unintentionally.
Gradually, my mother-in-law's stand shifted. Gradually, people stop making noises and we finally got his parents blessings for hubby to bring along Huzaifah and joined me in Japan.
#####
After some time adjusting to life in Japan, hubby began setting up classes – both for Malaysian children and adult. He also began to make friends with other Muslims attending Hira’ Mosque, not far from our home. He also began joining weekly gathering at the Mosque organized by Islamic Circle of Japan, the organization responsible for the existence and maintenance of four mosques and two musollas in Japan.
It was during these gatherings when he was asked by the former president of ICOJ, Brother Jamil Ahmad on whether or not he would be interested to take up the position to be an instructor at an Islamic school soon to be created. He said that let him consult me first because he has to take care of the baby whenever I am away and I have classes 4 days in a week.
Not long after that, the same person approached him again, asking whether or not he would be interested to be an Imam in a mosque in the Tokyo area. If he agreed, he might have to move to Tokyo, which Brother Jamil said would be to my benefit too since I;m studying in Tokyo. Once again, hubby stressed that he has a baby to take care of and he needed to consult me before he could agree to anything.
And so last week, he took me to the mosque, and we had a small discussion with Brother Abdul Salam, the Sec-Gen of ICOJ and two other prominent members of ICOJ. Brother Abdul Salam showed us a picture of the Daar Al Arqam mosque and explained to us the duties of an Imam in that mosque, which is also the headquarter of ICOJ. Basically, if he agrees, hubby is to lead the prayers there, most crucially for Jumu’ah prayer, to act as caretaker of the mosque (Tok siak of some sort) as well as taking care of some administrative tasks for ICOJ like forwarding queries, calls and faxes to the President and Sec-Gen.
They believe that it won’t be problem for us because the Imam could live there – the residence is on the top floor of the 5-storey mosque building, and that even if I need to attend any class on Friday when hubby has to perform his major task of leading the Jumu’ah prayer, they could assist in arranging for some babysitter. In exchange of being the Imam there, ICOJ would provide free residence inclusive of utilities. That means no monthly rent and no monthly water, electricity and gas bills to take care of.
I asked hubby to perform solat istikharah. He consulted both sets of parents – in Seremban and in PJ. All of them gave their blessings. Ayah in particular was so stunned of this news that he felt down (alhamdulillah he landed safely on the bed) and started crying upon being told by Mak. I later teased Ayah about it, to which he replied solemnly, “Ayah terharu doa Ayah dimakbulkan Allah sebelum Ayah pejam mata. Inilah yang Ayah dok doa selalu – minta anak cucu Ayah dapat jalankan kerja dakwah, dapat sumbangkan untuk Islam. Mana kita nak sangka Allah nak bagi rezeki macam ni?”
True, neither hubby nor I expected this kind of offer. In fact, we were ready to stay in Gyotoku and try to contribute what little we could for Islam among the local Muslim community. Being given a chance to be an Imam in mosque located in Tokyo means insya Allah hubby will get to know a larger audience with various background, exposing him to an international Muslim community in Japan, opening up windows of opportunities for him and I to share what little we know and learn more from others. Chances are we could also initiate the involvement of more Malaysians in ICOJ related activities. Like somebody was saying the other day – “Bukan selalu nak jumpa Pak Imam Melayu kat Masjid di Jepun nih…” By the way, hubby definitely has found a motivation for him to study Nihongo now. Otherwise he would probably be the only Imam in a Japanese mosque who could not speak Japanese at all.
Now insya Allah we could alleviate his family fear about him not earning any income while he is accompanying me in Japan. In fact, the small sum ICOJ promised as monthly allowance for hubby is considerably more (in Ringgit Malaysia) than what he used to earn as a high school teacher before he came to Japan. We are thinking of sponsoring his parents to come and visit us here in Japan and let them see for themselves how we are faring here. We were prepared to make do with my monthly stipend alone, and then alhamdulillah, this offer came as rezeki from Allah.
So, tomorrow insya Allah we will move to Asakusa, and I will become the Pak Imam’s wife (but please, please, please don't call me Mak Aji, okay?)
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