A Sufi camp in Jakarta: The Light of God

By Dina Zaman - Malaysia Kini - Kuala Lumpur,Malaysia
Wednesday, June 21, 06

The logical reader reads what he wants to read
The believer sees beyond meaning - Mas Reno

It has been more than a month since I was in Jakarta. It’s been interesting to note people’s reactions to my little jaunt. From remarks saying that I wasted my time in Jakarta praying, when I could have gone shopping, to someone asking me in all sincerity, “Oh, you like Sufi poetry?” when I said that I had attended a Sufi camp (I didn’t know what else to describe it), right up to acquaintances wanting to know more about the course. What was even more odd was that a few of my Malay friends, hijabed and non, sniffed at the adventure and made snide remarks while my non-Malay friends and non-practising, yes, Muslim friends were delighted with the jaunt.

Mrs. Scott, whose dogs guest-starred in a previous article, repeatedly said, “Whatever you learned there, you keep on at it because I see changes in you. Good ones.”
“Next think you know I can float in the air,” I laughed.
“Aiyoh, that one a bit much lah!”

My two ‘older men’ - Naa Murad and Paul Lau - asked whether it was a tabligh group that catered to the rich. No, Nursyifa was a place for weary souls seeking respite and healing. “Were there drums and dancing?”
“Er, no. No incense either.”
“Was it in a rich neighbourhood like some of these tarikats are situated? No Tengkus and Datuks?”
“No. It’s a normal house that’s been turned into a centre for the destitute. And Ibu Haji has 16 cats. No rich people. Just normal folks.”
“And they accept you for who you are?”
“Yah.”
“Is this like Ayah Pin’s cult?”
“No-lah! It’s all Islamic, follows Sunnah and all, but it’s not like here. Go there and experience it for yourself. They welcome everyone, Muslim or not.”

On Sundays, Nursyifa conducts free exercise classes and therapy for everyone at the Monas Park in Central Jakarta. The crowd is mixed: men and women of all ages and shapes, and from all walks of life. Stringy young Indonesian boys rub their eyes sleepily as they shuffle into the line, while excited matrons in jeans and leggings and tee shirts squeal as they await Mas Reno to take his place on a podium, to lead the group.

The Taman Tun park is overrun by families, professionals; the last time I went there, I could hardly breathe, there were that many people. KLCC? We’d be arrested for public disorder. Heck you can’t even hold hands there, and with this butt wiggling thing going on... Lake Gardens? It’s too near JAKIM. We’d all end up under ISA for religious deviation. What normal, rational ustaz would teach a mixed group to kwee kwee kwee?

I know this is cynical of me, but who in Malaysia will do this for free? Nursyifa provided drinks and generous snacks to all at the park gratis. There isn’t any public fanfair - in KL, we’d probably have to have a VVIP to lead the congregation. And every Sunday morning? I don’t think so.

I ask one of the volunteers why such sessions are held, as I taste a panada, a curry-puff like snack.
“This is sedekah, our contribution to society. It’s healthy and fun. And not all that come participate can afford snacks and drinks. It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

I will not meet any of the people I befriended when I leave, and my heart is heavy. The last nine days were filled with prayers and stories; we had bonded. To leave this sanctuary - why is it that I always feel more at home abroad?

I am told that on Nursyifa’s website there is video streaming, and if I want to follow their zikir sessions, I can click on the link and be part of the group, from the comfort of home. They also have monthly weekend retreats filled with activities such as volleyball, picnics, poco-poco as well as therapy sessions. There’s even an outward bound type like retreat for those that have the hearts of lions.