Unplanned Visit To The Blue Mosque

We’ve arrived at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) terminal 3 five minutes passed 7 in the morning on Monday after approximately 1 hour travel by plane from Cagayan De Oro. After fetching my baggage, I hastened to walk towards the main hallway leading to the exit door. Before even reaching the hallway, my cell phone rang. I immediately pressed the answer button and put it right beside my ear right away.

“Hello! Are you already here?” asked a woman’s voice in my phone.

“Yes,” answered. I put the phone away from my ear to see who was calling. It was the woman I contacted a few days ago.

“I’m so sorry. I tried my best to get hold of your passport but my co-worker here has accidentally included it in the regular ones and had sent it already to Cagayan De Oro last Saturday.”

She was working in the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) in Pasay City. Three days ago, I asked her if she could help me release my passport the soonest possible since I was going to attend a two-day international conference in Thailand later that week. Official date of release of my passport given by DFA Cagayan De Oro was on Tuesday. One week before the release date I went to Cagayan De Oro to request for an earlier date but to my disappointment, I got denied. . . They even told me that my passport’s release would be delayed by one week from the official date which would disallow me to participate in the conference. Fortunately, someone from our university knows this woman. She suggested the only way to release it on time is that she should get hold of the passport in their office and then I would claim it there.

But now, things have gone out of control. Dark sadness looms in my head and sweat of anxiety started to flow from my glands. I already bought round trip ticket for travel between Cagayan De Oro City and Manila, in the anticipation that I would be in Thailand for the conference.

"Oh No! this can't be happening." I thought. While my professors, who were to attend the same conference, were starting to leave the airport, I took refuge in a corner behind a big pillar of the terminal and started finding an electric outlet to charge my cell phone which was already dying of charge. I called and texted several people, trying to find somebody who could claim my passport in Cagayan De Oro and send it to me in the shortest possible time. Hours went by, I could contact no-one to do what I needed. Then the feeling  of despair started to crumple my very being. While I scanned my phonebook on my phone to call another somebody who might know someone who could do the job, I uttered silent prayers entangled with a soundless cry.

And thank God, after four hours of continuously calling and texting while sitting in the same spot, I’ve found one person. She's is a sister-in-law of one of  my professors. She was working in Cagayan De Oro.

That afternoon, we were able to buy my plane ticket for Bangkok, Thailand. She successfully claimed my passport and it would arrive the following day.

My very kind friend Bash. I shot this picture of him
in NAIA after his duty.

While waiting for my flight for Thailand which was scheduled on Wednesday, I stayed in Taguig City. My beloved friend Bash, who was residing in the place, had arranged my accommodation at a condo unit. He told me that just a block from the building where I stayed, is the famed big masjid called the “Blue Mosque.” But he couldn’t show me around the place since he had to go to work.

By 3 in the afternoon I went out to find it. I saw this boy walking down the street. He was wearing a Pakistani dress so I was pretty sure he was a Muslim. He looked to the sides and also saw me walking from aisle of two buildings towards the street. I raised my right hand while we were looking at each other, signaling for him to stop. 

On reaching him, I greeted him with salam and shook his right hand.

“Where is the nearest mosque here?” I immediately asked. Just after saying that, a loud call for prayer sounded from a speaker. And I suddenly observed that it came from behind him. Just a few steps from where we were standing was an entrance of a small masjid.

“Here it is,” He smiled while pointing to the entrance. I couldn’t help but smiled also. I continued my glance from the flip flops on the entrance, the roof, and then the small dome behind some branches of tree. I realized that behind him was a small masjid.

“I mean the Blue Mosque. I heard it is near from here.”

Then he accompanied me. It was located at an elevated ground, south of the condo building where I stayed. It was enclosed by surrounding fence with several metal gates. Beautifully painted with light yellow color mainly on its walls, white on its fence, and blue on its big dome and edges, its huge structure could attractively be seen even from a far distance. Upon entering the main gate, we climbed up a stair of few steps with green plants on both sides. A few steps more from the main entrance gate was a circle ground of several feet in radius where a flower plant was grown. The name of the Almighty “Allah” in Arabic were splendidly written on two sides of the outside wall of its porch where we entered the main building. After removing our shoes, we had finally reached the inside of the masid. The floor was totally covered with soft and thick maroon carpet. Long grey curtain was partially unfurled on our left which indicates the space for women and the pulpit (mimbar in Arabic) was on our right. Then I realized we have entered the mosque from the North.

The Blue Mosque

The area for ablution was in South, side by side with the bathrooms. Soon, the congregational afternoon prayer started. The imam’s voice could be heard clearly through the sound system's speaker. There were electric fans here and there, either attached to a huge pillar or standing on its own. But since the three sides of the mosque, north, south and east were all open allowing free air to flow in and out, the fans needed not be in maximum to counter the mild hotness of the afternoon.

After the prayer, I sat in the south porch, my back against the wall of the mosque. I enjoyed the ambience: air,  space offered by the huge structure, little noise from adolescents playing nearby.

I also had the chance to talk with a guy in the da'wah (Islam propagation) there.

Most of the afternoon, I spent with the boy who had accompanied me. He said his name was Zaynuddin. He was among the students there who focus on the memorization of the entire Qur'an. He also told me some additional information regarding the masjid. There were two administrations involved there: one focused on the maintenance of the masjid and the other is focused on the madrasa or school.

There were several classrooms on the east side of the masjid, far behind the space for women, intended for madrasa classes. And behind these classrooms were the dormitory rooms for the students.

A worshiper in retreat.

Some people stay there for the night often. Perhaps, homeless or others are known to be performing i'tikaf, a practice consisting of a period of spiritual retreat in a masjid for a certain number of days in accordance with the believer's own wish.

It is refreshing and inspiring to know that even in most populated and busiest place, there are still people who continue to uphold a discipline on spirituality, not forgetful of the remembrance to the Lord.

Now, I seem to understand why I got delayed in my trip to Thailand. Had my passport not delayed, probably I would have joined my professors to go to Thailand the same day I arrived to Manila and could not have visited this place. But I guess the Almighty just wanted to give me a chance to visit this beautiful masjid and His fellow sincere worshipers in this city.

“He knows what is before them And what is behind them: And to Allah go back All questions (for decision)” Qur’an : Surah Al Hajj 22:76

Let us not judge things or events by its immediate outcome. The Almighty is the All-Knowledgable, the All-Knower. He chooses to show us things but sometimes we are not shown the wisdom directly but behind some things or some events. Everything happens to us for a reason. $latex \square$

The arabic word "Allah" engraved on the main entrance.

The main gate as seen from the inside of
the Blue Mosque.

Zaynuddin - the boy who had accompanied me.

Terminal - A book review

The cover of the book Terminal written by Prof Almayrah Tiburon.

Terminal is a book containing collection of Short Stories. This book was originally written by a friend, Prof. Almayrah Tiburon, a Filipino professor of MSU-Main. It contains eleven beautiful short stories whose settings are in the parallel realm of Marawi City and featuring the Meranao people and culture, and some issues that have existed in the region. All of them are written in Filipino language with some phrases in Meranao dialect. A glossary is included where the readers may find the concise meanings of some hard Filipino and Meranao terms.

They mention Horror Stories, Meranao culture, Drug addiction, Disadvantages of working abroad, Betrayal to one's spouse, prostitution, witchcraft, ghosts, and marriage and divorce. The descriptions are clear and did not fail in capturing my full attention when I was reading them.

I may say that the author is very talented in writing... so talented that she can even make up stories about physical objects. In the book, two of the eleven stories were even entitled after two things: container and Dyaket. At just knowing these titles, you might wonder what are the plots of these stories?

I also like the story entitled "Lamber." It's about a young man who became a drug addict. In the plot, his hallucinations, and struggles of his loving family were seriously depicted. I could related to this kind of story for in the past I had also met some of people like these. Indeed, prohibited drugs can shatter one's life. The shattered dream and misery in this plot is too great that it was made into a short film. The film was shot right in the campus where the author is working as a college professor. It is yet to be submitted in a competition of short films.

The author also explores the story of married people in another story entitled "L'pad." In this story, while her husband went out of Philippines to work abroad, she was tempted, and had a love affair with a married man. The secret and forbidden love were enjoyed by both. Certainly, truth would be known. And the shameful acts of these two people were eventually discovered, and known by their family and extended relatives. The author exploits this conflict to introduce to the readers the law provided by the Meranao culture in dealing with these kinds of issues.

But if I were to decide which among the twelve have attracted me the most, it would be “Paktol.”

“Paktol” is story about witchcraft, love and revenge. In this story, Yusoph and Sahara were married. The marriage seemed to be perfect; Husband is a responsible man; wife is kind, very loving and a good daughter who came from a clan of good family background; man and wife is in good compatibility and in constant care and love for each other; their in-laws are in good terms. And this marriage became even happier when they were blessed with a son after a year in union.

 

But this colorful living came into gloomy atmosphere when Yusoph fell sick one morning. Each passing day, the sickness became worse. Instead of going to a doctor, he went up to a pamomolong, a Meranaw term for one who is good healer at sickness if were caused by witchcraft. But even the pamomolong admitted that this magic was all too strong. And this kind could have only been done by a person who had been wronged by Yusoph in the past. And the author at this point unfurls the past history of Yusoph using a flashback.

The culprit was a woman named Aklimah, someone who had fallen in love with Yusoph so madly when they were still in college. She didn’t feel love from her direct family and so she became too engrossed upon Yusoph’s comfort. She had totally believed that he was her only ticket to happiness in life. One day, they discovered that she was pregnant and she rejoiced at this. For Aklimah, this was assurance to finally be his legal wife. For him and his family this was shame and immorality. His parents disapproved her to be his wife. And he was a very obedient son and eventually he ended up with Sahara, the woman his family favored. This was way too painful for Aklimah. Her life even became bitter when she lost her unborn baby with Yusoph. The feeling of being betrayed and forsaken by her man and hated by his family resulted to despair and evil plot in bitter vengeance.

The conflict in arranged marriage in Meranao and other muslim cultures in Philippines is common. But the battle in this story became most unique since it is mixed with witchcraft. You’d be surprised at how the author vividly described the procedure in using witchcraft to take revenge, exploiting the blood of the dead unborn child, the miserable scene created where the faithful wife carrying the burden of feeling not able to find any medicine to her husband’s harsh unknown sickness. While I was reading this, I felt I was there at the scenes where it had all occurred.

Is there such a cure for even the most powerful black magic ever known? Will the bad spirit of vengeance prevail over the love for the good man she had cherished the most?  

To find out the what's the ending of this story and to feel the thrill and suspense of stories like these, you’ll have to read this book.

Terminal by Prof. Almayrah Tiburon is available at the Filipino Department, College of Social Sciences and Humanities in MSU-Main Campus. $latex \square$

I asked her to write something for me in my copy of her book since she was the author. And there they are, those inspiring words for me. :-)