Today, Remembering the days, living as a santri many years ago, life seemed “upnormal“. But, if time could be replayed, I may not be able to live it like that again.
But that life experiences came in handy when later, years later, during my years as a journalist, I got to meet so many different people: from bandits to pandits; from beggars to artists; from coro to ndoro; from the poor to the very rich; from criminals to officials. Etc. At times like that, I always remember the teachings of the teachers at the pesantren: life does not need to be nervous and stuttering.
I have experienced boarding at two Islamic boarding schools, Pondok Pesantren Al-Qodiri and Al-Fattah, in Jember City, East Java. But before that, I had actually been included in a hut. But, unfortunately, after the first night had passed, early in the morning, when the students left for the mosque for congregational prayers, I ran away…
In 1985, Al-Qodiri was not what it is today, which has grown so big that it has universities and branches in many places. At that time Al-Qodiri was better known as a tarekat pesantren. Precisely the Qodiriyah wan Naqsabandiyah Order. Therefore, every Friday night, the Manaqiban of Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jailani is held regularly. Suppose it’s Sweet Friday night (Legi). In that case, the congregation of manaqib can reach thousands of people from various regions in Indonesia. But especially for santri, the manaqib (short version) is every midnight. Until now, Al-Qodiri is still being cared for by KH Ahmad Muzakki Syah.
Meanwhile, Al-Fattah is one of the Salaf Islamic boarding schools in Talangsari, Jember. It is located next to the Ash-Shiddiqi Putra (Ashtra) Islamic Boarding School, nurtured by KH Achmad Shiddiq, Rais Am PBNU 1984-1991. Even these two pesantren have a connecting hallway.
Al-Fattah Islamic Boarding School was raised by KH Dhofir Salam. Unfortunately, when I was staying at Al-Fattah in 1989, Kiai Dhofir had already passed away. However, I still had time to feel the traces of Al-Fattah as a salaf pesantren: occupying the gothakan or stage booths. The poles are made of wood. The walls and the floor are made of woven bamboo.
In the 1980s, the terms “school while staying” or “studying while staying” often changed places. This is because not many Islamic boarding schools have formal educational institutions like today. Thus, many students also study outside the pesantren. Maybe I fall into the category of school while staying. Other friends may be the opposite, staying while attending school. The pressure point is different.
My initial goal from Banyuwangi to Jember was to study at the Jember State Religious Teacher Education (PGAN) (now Madrasah Aliyah Negeri 2). But parents do provide an additional condition: they can go to school as long as they stay. There was no choice; that was the first time I had an actual stay; no more running away.
But at Al-Qodiri at that time, many students entered the category of boarding while attending school. The initial goal was to stay while studying at formal educational institutions scattered in the city of Jember. But there are not a few “full-blooded” students who are indeed staying for the Koran and taking the blessings of the Kiai.
At the beginning of this article, I can still imagine what I called the “upnormal” life. You can start from this: for about three years at Al-Qodiri, I lived in a cubicle measuring approximately 3×4 square meters with more than 10 students. We know that the gothakan or the santri room is a multi-purpose room. There we put and store everything: clothes, books and other school supplies, kitchen utensils and food ingredients, shoes and sandals (if you don’t want to be ghasabed), and various other things. All are placed or stored in cupboards or shelves attached to the wall. So, apart from being versatile, the students’ rooms are always colourful.
Even without its occupants, that’s how it is; the student rooms are already so crowded. But, of course, there was never enough room to sleep all the occupants. So, if it’s night, the one who sleeps first can get a place, which then has to lie everywhere. Maybe in the halls between the booths. Maybe in the mosque.
Also a matter of bathing. Jeding pesantren is never enough to serve hundreds of students who have to queue for bathing simultaneously. That’s why I and some friends usually prefer to bathe outside the cottage. At that time, Al-Qodiri was still in the old hut. About 500 meters to the back, there is a river. After climbing several sections of rice fields, we can find a river there; the water is quite clear because it flows from mountain springs. It was in the open creeks that we used to bathe and wash clothes. So it’s foolish people pass by looking at our nakedness.
What’s even more remarkable is this: barely able to sleep through the night. Being able to sleep for three or four hours is considered a luxury. The students began to be free from the obligation to recite and study around 22.00 or 23.00. At those hours, we may be able to go to bed to relieve fatigue. But about two hours later, usually at 01.00 or 02.00, Pak Kiai has woken the santri for the evening prayer in the congregation; followed by remembrance and wirid, the short version of Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jailani’s manaqiban, until dawn. And that is istikamah every night unless Pak Kiai is unable to.
And remember: it is forbidden to sleep during night remembrance like that. Pak Kiai is always on standby with his pitcher. While leading the dhikr, his eyes are always alert. If during night remembrance like that someone is found to be sleepy, then boo! Penggalah will whip the shoulders or backs of students who are asleep. “I hit the devil who slept with you,” said Pak Kiai.
From my point of view today, those stories are an “upnormal” life, above average. Not sure I can live it again. But the riyadhoh taught in the pesantren at that time, the riyadhoh to keep the “soul awake”, is still carried around until now.
Usually, on the sidelines of the night’s remembrance, Kiai Muzzaki gives a lot of advice and guidance on praying appropriately until our souls stay awake, never fall asleep or even die. At such an early age, I could only grope his teachings about the nature of life, the nature of God, not only when sitting cross-legged during dhikr, but also in various other activities. But later, when I was in college, I studied it from many references about tarekat and Sufism.
One of his conclusions is quite astonishing: how can we put the same psychological distance between all creatures, against all humans. It’s like I’m being challenged to be equally kind to both the giver and the thief. Apparently, that’s the key to not being nervous and stuttering in life. To this day, I have never ceased to be grateful to have received such an education.
Music at Pondok Salaf
Some moments have made me love poetry until now. For example, when the imtihan was going to be held at Al-Qodiri, the committee asked me to recite on stage and read poetry. I don’t know what the considerations are; what is certain is that the santri cannot refuse the orders of the board of directors. So, on that night of imtihan, I was like a poet, reading poetry on stage. But it will be the first and the last. After that, I never did it again, although I have loved poetry ever since and have written it occasionally.
While studying at the Jember State Islamic Institute (IAIN) (now changed to KH Achmad Siddiq State Islamic University), I moved to the Al-Fattah Islamic Boarding School in Talangsari. Perhaps because at that time, in the transition period of boarding school care since Kiai Dhofir died, and most of the students were students, the arrangement of students at Al-Fattah was relatively “loose”. As long as there is a reason for college or student activities, students may leave the lodge.
At that time, I was a student activist who was classified as hyperactive. That’s why I’m rarely in the hut —and a bit chubby. Even at the cottage, occasionally violate discipline. For example, not attending the Koran or praying in congregation, especially at dawn. To trick the lodge’s security, I locked my door from the outside and entered my room through the window. When the security guard woke the santri for the dawn congregation, my room was passed because it was locked from the outside. Sound and Safe.
One day I was called by Gus Arif Rusdi, one of the sons of Kiai Dhofir, who later became one of the caregivers of the Al-Fattah Talangsari Islamic Boarding School. My heart fluttered at the thought that I would be punished because I was rarely in the hut. Moreover, I’m not really a “good student” because when I was at Al-Qodiri, I was exposed to takzir: bald!
Alhamdulillah, my guess was wrong. Or actually did not miss, but was given punishment in another form. At that time, the cottage wanted to hold an imtihan. So I was given the task of keeping a performance. “What performance, Gus?”
“A musical drama,” answered Gus Arif, who is also known as Gus Didik.
My head immediately started spinning. It’s easier to be judged than to be given a task like this, I said to myself. Moreover, I was asked to write the screenplay, as well as be the director. So the story idea can be discussed together. I also don’t know what Gus Arif’s background is for giving such a task. He only said short, “You can do it.”
Of course, I did not dare to refuse the orders of a Gus. I tried to evade by asking, “Where’s the music from, Gus?” I thought, if there was no music, it definitely wouldn’t happen. But Gus Didik instead pulled my hand, “Come with me.”
My eyes widened when I was invited into a special room. It contains Masya Allah, a collection of instrumental music cassettes by composers from all over the world with various genres. The amount? More than a thousand. And this collection is located in a boarding school which has been known as the Salaf lodge.
I dare not ask how Gus Arif came from having a collection of music cassettes (at that time, there were no compact discs or flash drives) of music. Requesting is free; I know Gus often have mysterious sources.
Finally, for days I listened to the music to be selected. I then compiled it into a re-recording that became part of the music we were designing. In Gus Arif’s special room, I was like a music director.
This story is also considered “upnormal”. Suddenly I was able to write a screenplay and become a director, although I didn’t know the qualifications. What is certain is that the drama was finally staged with dozens of players. Quite a success for the size of the staging in the cottage. Later I dabbled in reading books on the screenplay and directing, and what I did was not wrong. But I can’t do it again.
To be sure, since then, I have started to like listening to music. Any music. It doesn’t matter what other people say if it’s illegal. In fact, Gus Arif’s instructions about the musical seemed to complement what I had previously learned from Al-Qodiri about riyadhoh to keep “the soul and consciousness awake”. The two introduce an unexpected world.