Suddenly, I was overcome with sadness and my heart felt as if it had been pierced with a dagger. Today, I heard news that in this city, which is already crowded with mosques, a primary school building is set to be demolished. In its place, a new grand mosque is to be erected. This mosque will be greatly exalted, possibly rivalling other newly built mosques in different cities that have cost over a trillion rupiahs. Consequently, the students of this primary school will be transferred to other schools, where they will have to cram into tight classrooms.
Oh, the sorrow I feel. If the news is true, it means people are more passionate about worshipping in grand mosques than nurturing gardens of knowledge for their children and grandchildren.
The news reminds me of a story called ‘Kaji Sangit.’ This story is based on a semi-true tale; about why people started calling the character in this story by the nickname, ‘Kaji Sangit.’
His real name was Soleman. Having made a pilgrimage to the holy land of Mecca, he was naturally addressed as Kaji. People should have called him Kaji Soleman. However, behind his back, people whispered and referred to him as Kaji Sangit, half in fear, half in mockery. This was because they believed that despite his pilgrimage, Kaji Soleman would end up as a sinner in hell due to his stinginess.
That’s why he was dubbed Kaji Sangit – the stench of his burning in hell as if it was already perceptible in this world. Quite extraordinary!
***
The richest man in the village was Kaji Soleman. But for many, he was also known as the stingiest man. Whenever someone approached him for a donation for a mosque or prayer room, that person always returned empty-handed.
One victim of Kaji Soleman’s stinginess was Kusni, a caretaker of one of the mosques in the village. One afternoon, after leading the Asr prayer, Kusni paid a visit to Kaji Soleman. Aware of the rumours about Kaji Soleman’s refusal to make donations, Kusni, leveraging his position as a mosque caretaker, tried to soften Kaji Soleman’s heart.
After exchanging pleasantries, Kusni expressed his reason for visiting Kaji Soleman. “Compared to other mosques, our mosque is too small, Kaji. And it looks shabby and dull. This is God’s house; it should be grand.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. But I apologize, I can’t contribute funds to enlarge and embellish our mosque right now. I have many other needs,” Kaji Soleman replied.
After the Isha prayer, Kusni gathered the mosque’s management and announced Kaji Soleman’s refusal. They grumbled on the mosque’s porch. Among them was Parno, the village head accompanied by a few officials. “Why wouldn’t such a rich man donate to build a mosque? Doesn’t he want the blessings of continuous charity?” Kusni initiated the conversation.
“He’s a real miser,” one chimed in.
“Stingy.”
“Surely, he’ll end up in hell!”
“That’s Kaji Sangit for you!”
Some grumbled, some chuckled. But from that day on, people started calling Kaji Soleman as Kaji Sangit.