The serene voice penetrated the wooden walls that were not tight, breaking through the darkness and silence of the night a village on the outskirts of Ranai city, Natuna Island, Riau Islands. The simple, secluded stilt house on the hillside “Laksamana” is like incense blowing smoke or the gurgling of prayer beads to communicate with the Creator. Every night, when people rushed to their beds, the house echoed the verse of poetry accompanying istighfar and various prays for forgiveness, safety, mercy, added good luck, to long life.
With sadness, Syafii Abdurrahman, the house owner, sang it while kneeling before the Almighty. In his twilight years, he appears to be more devoted to the Forgiver. Gardening, raising chickens, and occasionally treating sick neighbours are daily jobs that he seems to do perfunctory to fill his busy life and get rid of his bitter and dark memories. Compensation for the six hectares of his coconut plantation which he had evicted for the Ranai airport in 1963 which he had not received, the two hectares of his clove plantation in Sedanau (island west of Natuna), which a nobleman on the island reclaimed, and the eviction of his house on the shores of Ranai in the late 80s he slowly forgot. “My life is like a fairy tale; it makes no sense when you think about it,” he said in 1995.
Tragic, indeed, Syafii’s life. However, he also keeps the sweet story of his youth when he was lauded by his fans as the most popular performer in Mendu theatre (the folk art of Pulau Tujuh, including Natuna) in the 1950-1960s era. As the role of the God Mendu (the central character in Mendu’s theatre), he was very handsome, especially young women at that time. “Where he performs, the audience is always flooded,” said Bakar, a friend of his fellow Mendu player.
For Syafii, not only will the past not return but, especially the bitter one he has experienced, should not be repeated. So even sweet, do not need to be remembered. “We live facing forward and only occasionally look back,” he said. “And, for people like me who are already old, the most important thing is to prepare to face the Creator,” he continued. That is why, perhaps, Syafii concentrates on doing wirid rhyming more.
Syair Juragan Budiman
As a Muslim santri who, although he has never recited the Koran in a modern Pesantren or madrasah, Syafii not only reads prayers taken from the books of Qishasul Anbiya’ and Riyadhus Sholihin, but he also transmits local mantras, typical of Pulau Tujuh, which are no different from other mantras. The mantra colours the poems of Ibrahim Sattah and Suardji C Bachri.
What is more interesting is his appreciation of Malay poetry which he equates with prayers and mantras. Routinely, chanting these poems is the same as reciting some prayers and mantras like the isya prayer. For some reason, the literary work that was transmitted at that time was a narrative story of a long journey of a dynasty presented in the form of nadham (poem), entitled Syair Juragan Budiman.
Narratively, the poem tells the story of the life journey of a sultan’s family who fell from their throne due to outsiders’ attacks and the rise of their descendants to lead a country. Thus, Syair Juragan Budiman wants to place the ups and downs of a dynasty as the cycle of life or the spinning wheel of destiny.
Syafii could not help it, although he often had doubts in his deepest heart, as is the general confusion of the Natunas: whether the ups and downs were a comedy from God or a tragedy for humanity.
Resistance Spell
In this verse, the usurpation of power, structural decline, is more understood as a slip in capturing and following the rhythm of destiny. Therefore we must face it with patience and fortitude. However, all of that is more due to the arrogance and greed of external forces that rob him. With patience and fortitude, this verse’s message says that a pawned dynasty can be regained, reclaim the power, and restore the glory. The three sons of the abducted sultan conclude the narration of Syair Juragan Budiman, eventually becoming rulers or empresses of a country.
Syafii was once dropped, a number of his possessions were confiscated, so it may be that transmitting the poem for him is to anchor the hope that one day his descendants will get it back, perhaps, in another form. Isn’t it true that sulking is not just avoiding annoyance and resignation from the gripping power in the Malay tradition but also by keeping hope that the wheel of destiny will turn?
The results of LIPI’s research on the impact of the industry in Batam-Bintan and its surroundings in the 1993-1995 period confirmed that sulking as a response from Malay’s people against industrialization are articulated in the form of collective prayers and regularly transmit readings of stories of past triumphs so that their glory in the Malay lands returns to life. Not infrequently, they chant, “Malay will not be lost on earth”.
In Syafii’s view, Syair Juragan Budiman is a sacred heirloom that must be treasured for all time. Just like the Javanese curtail Joyoboyo and Serat Centini and the Bugis hold La Galigo sacred. For Syafii, who memorized all the poems by heart, transmitting them was the most concrete form of cursing.
Forget whether it’s sulking or cursing; this fact confirms that any literary work as profane can be very sacred to some of our society. As Shafii points out, it is parallel to prayers and mantras, even as important as a prayer or mantra itself. For someone like Syafii, the boundaries of sacred and profane literature, Islamic and un-Islamic, are blurred. A pure poem about political life with all its interests and ambitions can become sacred and religious.