MY JOURNEY : XPDC HAMKA

To understand my journey, you must first understand me.

My name is Sarah binti Mohammed Shakharulain. At the age of 18, I've never felt any kind of hardship in life. I grew up in a modern world and everything I wanted, I was immediately given.In 2000 my father was transferred to work in Brunei and my family followed, so that was where I spent my teenage years, from age 10 to 16. There, I studied in one of the best school in the region; having princes and princesses, daughters and sons of ministers and other high profile individuals, as friends and classmates. I had many circles of friends, received many awards, voted student captain during my senior year, ranked 3rd in school for studies and in 2007, graduated with 10 straight A's. Moreover, from a young age, my family had a maid and I never needed to do any house chores. Life for me was fantastic – friends, money, and grades, came easily to me. During those 7 years, I did not truly realize how privileged and lucky I was because I did not know any different.

In 2007, I returned to Malaysia to study Association of Charted Certified Accountants (ACCA) in the renowned institution Sunway TES, SUN-U. Here, I also lead a very comfortable life. I have many friends from all over the world, I'm passing all my papers, was elected as a director in the student council and a committee member in other societies. I spent my free time with friends, going out, watching movies and shopping. My lodging, tuition fees, food, entertainment expenses, allowances, everything, was borne by my parents.vAgain, everything came easily to me, this was life as I knew it, I was happy and did not see any reason to change.

However, whenever a natural disaster strikes and was reported by the news channels, I've always wanted in my heart of hearts, to go there and help. Without a medical background though, I knew my presence would probably be more burdening than beneficial.

Mid December, Rafiqah Rahman, one of my closest friends, invited me to join an expedition to Padang a mere two weeks before departure. All I was told was that we were going there for volunteer work, to teach some kids, and without much thought I simply agreed.

Before the expedition there was a week of camp for the activists to train and get acquainted. I missed half of it because I was on a family vacation in Thailand, spending my days shopping, sight seeing and relaxing by the beach. It was the holidays, and life was good.

Day 1-3 at ABIM Camp:

My first challenges were faced right here, in Malaysia. I was unfamiliar with having to sleep on a mattress without a bed, in a classroom with six other girls with very little privacy. Also, there were no proper shower so we had to use the pipes in the toilet and a scoop. After a few days, I had to clean my clothes and there was not a washing machine. I have never, ever done laundry by hand and did not know how. After a few miserable attempts, (like forgetting to rinse the soap soaked clothes before hanging to dry) a sister activist came to my assistance.

On the third day, my family came to visit and I cried, wanting to go home. “There's no shower! I don't have a bed frame, no one to pick up my slack and clean my clothes, cook the food I want, theres no internet or tv, ...” I complained to my mum. Yet despite that, I knew I was just venting off some frustration and I truly did long to go to Padang to make leave my mark and make a difference.

Day 1:

After a mere 2 hours of sleep the night before, we left for the airport at 5.30am. My parents were waiting for me at the airport to wish me a safe trip and say our goodbyes. Our flight went smoothly and we touched down in Padang, Indonesia at 8.10am local time. We were greeted by fellow colleagues from Dewan Da'wah Islamiyah Indonesia whom drove us to our lodging for a short rest and later, took us out for lunch. During the short drive from the airport, through the car windows I saw collapsed buildings. Apparently they were the result of the 9.0 earthquake that hit on 30th September earlier that year. Most of the time, the majority part of the building still stood, but the walls were badly cracked and slanted, and it looked as if the structure would crumble to the ground at any moment. There were rubble everywhere. Never had I seen something so large, so broken.

After lunch, we drove for an hour to Pariaman – a village worst damaged by the earthquake. The deeper into the village we went, the more damage was seen. We drove to a point where cars could not enter because the roads were too damaged or not yet cleared of rubble. Surrounding me were piles of broken walls and bricks and roof tiles. Only some pillars stand erected, looking oddly on its own.

We ventured nearby where we saw small uniformed children studying within walls made of wooden planks. Their old school buildings were destroyed by the quake, they said, and now they're schooling in this temporary placement. We met another group of volunteer workers there, from Pelajar Islam Indonesia, conducting a class. We were invited to meet the primary school children and to take over the remainder of the class.

Soon afterwards when school was over, one of the small children took me to meet her mum who was waiting outside. I walked with the family home, about 100 metres from the school. Their house was destroyed – walls were missing and the roof was nowhere to be seen. I asked the mother where the family took shelter every night and she pointed underneath a nearby tarp. The edges of the blue tarp were tied around sticks, making a makeshift tent. She told me her family of five have been living there since the earthquake because they had nowhere else to go. While saying so, her eyes watered and I could hear so much pain in her voice as she talked.

I have never seen so much destruction and been so up close and personal with the victims, listening as to how their lives changed after the quake. I left the village in tears.

Our second day was spent sightseeing, driving up the mountains, along the beach and around the city of Padang. In the afternoon we had a discussion with Malaysians studying in Universitas Andalas, Padang. In the evening, we drove to Bukit Tinggi where we checked in a hotel and did a little sight seeing at Jam Gadang (Big Clock tower).

On the third day we spent most of our time sightseeing in Bukit Tinggi. We went to the Japanese Tunnel where we saw the ingenuity and cunningness of the Japanese soldiers. The tunnel was deep underground, long winded, dark and intimidating. There were prisons, kitchens, ammo rooms, spy holes and even a chute for corpses.

Afterwards we took an 'angkut' to a russian market, where I bought quality prayer clothings for rock bottom prices. As a treat, we took a 'vende' (horse carriage) on the way back to the hotel to check out and pack to head to Maninjau.

The 2 hour trip to Maninjau was by public bus. I do not usually travel by bus. In Malaysia, I'm driven around by my parents. The bus was hot, cramped, rusty, uncomfortable and looked as if it would break down at any moment. I was surprised it could even move. While waiting for departure, every few minutes or so, a beggar or street performer would embark the bus, asking for donations. They are very persistent and will not leave if you do not donate. Disheveled and loud, they can be quite intimidating – here is where my friend, Rafiqah, broke down in tears. We were not remotely familiar in those kind of desperate conditions and perhaps at that moment it was too much to handle. She calmed down after a call from her mother, advising her that every journey embarked will have its challenges and that she must be strong in facing hurdles.

The journey was extremely bumpy as road had many potholes and the bus was ancient. The bus drove up and down mountains, and went through a notorious 'Kelok 44' meaning the road downhill had 44 meanders. The roads were steep as we ventured downhill but what made it worse was when it staring raining heavily to the point where visibility was extremely poor. However, since there weren't any place we could stop, the bus continued to swerve precariously downhill.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by the children of the Pesantren Buya Hamka whom helped us with our luggage. We then had dinner in one of the village elders' home before retiring to bed early.

Days 4, 5 and 6 were spent studying the community and getting close with the residents of Maninjau.

On the morning of Day 4, we visited Museum Buya Hamka in Sungai Batang, a neighboring village. It was the house where he was born and it was turned into a museum. There we saw many photographs, capturing Buya Hamka at different stages of his life. Buya Hamka was a very famous islamic scholar and author, but when he was a teenager he was infamous for his naughtiness. Also on display was all 60 odd books he wrote during his lifetime.

That night, we were split into groups of two or three activists each and handed over to our foster families. Rafiqah and I were given to Ibu Erma and Bapak Rushdi, who lived at the end of the village. The house was small and modest – the ground floor was made of bricks and had 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, 2 toilets and a bathroom whilst the wooden upstairs had 3 empty bedrooms. Ibu had many children but only a daughter and her family was staying with them. Her family was very welcoming and friendly towards Raf and I and we felt immediately part of the family.

Raf and I had the pleasure of bathing in the Maninjau lake in the morning of Day 5. The water was warm and we were circled by tiny fishes. We then helped Una Fitri in the kitchen to cook breakfast before Ibu took us to see the family paddy fields and fish ponds. The fields were about half an hour walk away but it was worthwhile as the view was spectacular. The paddy fields stretched from the edge of the lake to way up the mountains and boasted hundreds of shades of green. After spending some time there, Ibu took us by ojek (motorcycle taxis) to Pasar Maninjau. The market was closed for the day but there were still a few small stalls selling local delicacies which we bought to eat for dinner later.

Later in the afternoon and early evening, we went around the village collecting data for a population census. Every house we went welcomed us, answered all our questions and even agreed to becoming potential homestay locations for visiting Malaysian students in the future.

Day 6 was packed with physical activities! We started out the day by walking to a fish farm in the lake to feed the fishes. It required a lot of good balancing to walk on the bridge the width of two bamboo trunks. It was especially scary for me as I did not know how to swim and the waters of the lake goes up to 100m deep. The lake was actually a volcano crater created a long time ago.

We then ventured into the mountains for a community effort to clean up a path for cars to drive to a village about 2km up the mountains. I had to hike in my Crocs, which proved to be very difficult and slippery as it rained the night before. There, we could only hike for 1km before turning back as the hill proved too steep to climb as we came unprepared. I walked down quite disappointed not being able to see the potential site to build the new Pesantren Buya Hamka.

Upon coming home that night, something odd happened. Ibu Erma told me that my mother from Malaysia, called earlier that night. She said that my mother was asking where I was, what I was doing and before hanging up, told Ibu Erma to pass her regards and Salam to me. It was strange to me as I never gave that house number to anyone, and hardly anybody outside the group knew that I was staying in that particular house. When I called my mother back, she denied ever knowing the house number, moreover having called. That night I went to sleep quite perplexed.

The next morning, Pesantren Buya Hamka reopened. As their English teacher had not yet arrived, I was given the privilege to step in. I had a lot of fun teaching and playing games to improve their vocabulary with the Form 1 and 4 students. School started at 8am and ended around 2pm.Afterwards, we walked to Sungai Batang to visit historical sites and the temporary tents set up by the republic for earthquake victims.

On an empty filed, the tents stretched a long way down and each row had more than 30 individual tents. Hundreds of family lived here, relocated as their previous villages were marked unsafe in fear of landslides or their houses close to collapsing. A tent may house more than one family. We were told they have been living here in limbo, because the republic is unsure of where to place all these people.

We continued walking around the village and saw the tomb of Hamka's ancestors, the state mosque, Hamka's father's library and met with one of Hamka's nephew who was also his student. There, he passed on to us advices Hamka had given him as a student.

The next day, my 19th birthday, started out the same; I taught English to the students in the morning. In the afternoon, I continued visiting house to finish off the census. Afterwards, for 3 hours I interview a village elder, Ibu Nisma, who is a committee member of a shelter home for Muallafs in Jakarta, as part of my individual research. The rest of the day went as normal but during the nightly meetings in headquarters, I was happily surprised with a birthday cake from the fellow activists and with it came a clip of advice on video from each of them. I was deeply moved by their efforts because I honestly had no idea that they had planned this. I knew that in the place we were in, in the middle of nowhere, it would be hard to pull off something like this.

After the celebrations, we all poured our hearts out and read aloud our wills we wrote the night before. It was the first time I had to spend so much time thinking about my own death and my last words to the people I love whom I will be leaving behind. From then on, I started thinking more about death and reminding myself that this life is only a short test, and eternity will be the afterlife. It is coming and it is real. If I do not prepare, become a good muslim and follow the teachings of the Quran and Sunnah, I will be thrown into hellfire.

Growing up, I never had many Muslim friends. Most of my close friends were internationals and had different faiths. The Muslims friends I did have though, did not practice the Islamic way of life. During the expedition was the most time I have ever spent with friends practicing the same faith and it was a wake up call for me as to how beautiful Islam is. Practicing Islam makes one closer to Allah, spiritually at peace, closer to friends and family, stress-free, secure and much happier. Praying often, reading the Quran every morning and night, which I never did before, made me feel lighter inside, it left me feeling closer to Allah, happier and at peace. I vowed that when I went back to Malaysia, I will try my best to continue my efforts to be closer to Allah, pray more often, fast on Mondays and Thursdays, read the Quran and read more religious books to gain more knowledge on the beauty of Islam.

On the 7th of January, school was as usual. Everyday the students and I grow a closer bond and we became very comfortable with each other. These children were naughty, as children often are, but they are very nice at heart, respectful, innocent and loving. Some children were orphans or Muslims converts, or both.

After school that day, the weather was bright and sunny, which meant less chances of a landslide, so the activists headed to Batu Nanggai, the village where the old Pesantren was. There I was so shaken seeing the landslides up close. It was huge, about 50m in width and where I was standing, a metre high, of just land, large rocks and gigantic broken trunks of trees. Looking up, I saw the path of destruction from way up the top of the mountain to down here in the lake. I could not imagine the sheer power needed to move such a big mass for so many kilometers. I stared in awe at Allah's display of power. In 30 seconds, the earthquake caused landslides which destroyed communities hundreds of year old.

The actual Pesantren was quite badly damaged. In an act of miracle, a large rock right before the Pesantren had split the landslide into two, sparing the compound where the children were during the quake. The boys' dorm's roof have completely collapsed and the classrooms were filled knee deep in mud. The other buildings were tested unstable therefore unsafe to conduct any kind of activity in. The children were also too traumatized to return.

The GPTD activists held a camp for the students for the next three days. Classes were postponed and we spent our days doing various activities, from morning till late evening.

The first day started out with a talk on health and the importance of brushing teeth. Each student was given a toothbrush and the entire school went out together to brush their teeth by the lake. That night, we played Burung Hantu, where we blindfolded them and left them alone at one spot each. It was to help them visualize the kind of loneliness felt after death, all by ourselves in our graves.

Throughout camp, we played many games, one of them required them building their ideal village out of scrap materials and rubbish and a clean up session which involved me going into (hold your breath) a sewer. Before going to camp, to be doing this was not fathomable. During these games, they got to learn more about themselves, their fellow schoolmates, improve leadership skills, work better as a team, gain new skills and sharpen existing ones. Also, all the teams had been given an english song to perform as part of the closing ceremony on the 10th January, and everyone was busy practicing.

On 10th January, the last day of camp started out normally. During the morning, we had an exercise session and in the afternoon, a few team activities. It was the night of the closing ceremony and we were all gathered into the musollah. The ceremony started smoothly, with the individual teams performing up front their well rehearsed routines, followed by the activists reading poetry for the children. During the next session, while students were reading out their wills, a small boy in my group fainted. He was carried to the side and started to have what I thought were seizures. It was not until a teacher started to shout 'Leave this body!' that I realized the boy was being possessed. I have never been in such a paranormal situation before and was scared out of my wits but remained calm. As one of the oldest in the room,

I knew I had to keep the other children in control and calm. The girls huddled together and started to pray. At the same time in the background, we could see the boy totally out of control, thrashing around and fighting the others trying to hold him down. I could hear the ustaz conversing with the jinns in the body of the little boy. The fighting and screaming continued for hours and the girls starting to become scared, weak and were fainting. Another student came to me, shivering in fear so I hugged her tight and told her to be strong and continue reading verses from the Quran. She suddenly fainted in my arms and I slowly lied her down. We kept reading verses in her ear, telling her to say it along, yet even that seemed too difficult. She started to complain that her limbs were hurting and I knew we were losing her fast.

She suddenly started to thrash around violently so myself and a few other students held her down. As sudden as it started, the trashing stopped. Her eyes darkened and became slits. She then smiled a wide, evil grin I fear I will not forget for as long as I live. I knew then, that it wasn't her in control of the body anymore. As all this is happening in front of me, the possessed boy is still chasing students, fighting and ranting, very close in the background. I called the ustaz over and he started to read verses in her ear. He gave me water which I read Ayat Kursi to, and he started gesturing on top the body, forcing the evil spirit out. She begun to react extremely violently, trying hard to break free and was close to bitting my arm. She finally stopped and was back to herself yet she was so weak she could hardly move. Soon afterwards, the girls were ordered back to the dorm and all the female activists left with them, myself included. In headquarters, after prayers and reading verses, it was still hard to sleep that night. As I lied down, I could feel my hands still hot and burning.

The next day we were advised not to speak to the children about last night's incident as it may dishearten them and lead to more misfortunes. In the afternoon, the activists left for Sungai Batang to visit the Buya Hamka museum and meet with Hamka's nephew once again for a talk. There, for hours he told us the life story of Buya Hamka, starting since he was a small boy. We all listened closely in awe at Buya Hamka's challenging journeys across the globe. We then had a wonderful dinner at one of the ustaz' home, where we feasted until our bellies were full.

The next morning, we left early for Padang. The students and residents of Kukuban village lined up outside headquarters to wave us off. It was a very moving moment and after our farewells, we left in tears. Alhamdulillah, after an hour of delay, we arrived at LCCT airport, Kuala Lumpur, safely and in good health. There, I was greeted by my entire family and was overjoyed because I have missed them all very much.

I truly believe I came back a changed person, Insyallah, for the better. I have seen Allah's wrath up close and every bone in me was scared. I have seen so much evidence and display of Allah's power, from the beauty of the lake, to the destructive power of the earthquakes and also personally encountered His beings from another world. I am a believer.

I have seen poverty at its most extreme yet the people were so grateful for what they had and ever so generous to complete strangers like myself. I realized how truly lucky and blessed my life is. Little did I know when I started, that when I went to teach the children of Padang, I was the one who will be taught the lesson of my life.

SARAH MSTGPTD Volunteer 

17 Jan 2010 | sarahmst@hotmail.com