Religitainment

foto: kapanlagi.com

Beberapa minggu ke depan, bulan Ramadhan datang. Kita perlu siap-siap. Oh, bukan, bukan latihan berpuasa. Kalau soal itu, sebenarnya tak perlu latihan, asal niat, langsung jalan. Kalaupun ada godaan, ya, tengok lagi niat yang sudah dibuat. Beneran niat, atau sekadar jaga martabat.

Lha, siap-siap apa lagi terus? Siap dibombardir. Astaga, bukan bom yang beberapa waktu lalu menghantam Jakarta. Ini bombardir televisi. Seperti lalu-lalu, televisi akan mati-matian bikin acara bernafas agama, religi. Sebut saja religitainment. Lho?

Blak-blakan saja lah, itu tetap saja entertainment. Hari gini, mau religi, mau gosip, mau reality show–semua ada di kotak entertainment. O ya, politik juga bisa masuk entertainment ya….

Tapi paket religitainment ini dijamin lengkap-kap-kap. Mau apa? Sinetron? Tinggal pilih yang ceritanya macam apa, bintangnya siapa…. Komedi situasi? Bejibun. Kuis? Edan-edanan. Musik? Ceramah? Ah, ya, ceramah, masak sih itu entertainment? Oh, itu acara religi. Tapi, sekarang kan dikemas sedemikian rupa sehingga menghibur? Entertainment dong…. Religitainment deh pasnya.

Fenomena baru? Ah, enggak juga. Sejak dulu, orang sudah mengenal tipisnya perbedaan antara ‘tuntunan’ dan ‘tontonan’. Beda jaman aja kaleee….

 

Kematian Tanpa Tangis

Catatan Tariq Ali di London Review of Books ini mengganggu pikiran saya. Tariq membagi catatan soal kematian, kematian perempuan-perempuan di tangan keluarga mereka sendiri. Kematian tanpa tangis. Mereka dianggap telah melakukan dosa tak terampunkan. Mereka dibunuh atas alasan agama. Saya yakin, Tuhan melihat ini semua. Tapi saya belum juga mengerti, makna apa yang ingin Dia perlihatkan pada saya pagi ini.

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Diary
Tariq Ali

http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n24/ali_01_.html

If cheating in bed was always settled by the bullet, many of us would be dead. Gerald Martin’s new biography of Gabriel García Márquez reveals that Chronicle of a Death Foretold was based on the murder of the novelist’s friend Cayetano Gentile in Sucre in 1951. He had seduced, deflowered and abandoned Margarita Chica Salas. On her wedding day Margarita’s husband was told that she was no longer a virgin. The bride was sent back to her family home. Her brothers then found Gentile and chopped his body into pieces. Márquez blamed the socio-moral dictatorship of the Catholic Church.

But of course it is usually women who are killed for breaking codes of sexual conduct. There have been several recent cases in Britain. Banaz Mahmod, a 20-year-old of Kurdish origin, was murdered in Surrey at the behest of her father because she’d left an arranged marriage and her father didn’t approve of her new boyfriend. Iraq has lately seen a spate of such murders. Last month acid was thrown at three women in Basra who were talking to a male friend. Yet Iraq once had the highest proportion of women integrated into every level of society of any Arab country.

And then there is Pakistan. In 2005 Pervez Musharraf pushed through legislation making honour killing a capital offence yet official statistics admit to 1261 honour killings in 2006 and half that number again the following year. The actual figures are probably much higher, since many deaths go unreported. ‘Women are considered the property of the males in their family irrespective of their class, ethnic or religious group, and the owner of the property has the right to decide its fate,’ Tahira Shahid Khan of Shirkat Gah, a group that campaigns for equal rights for women, reported in 1999. Domestic violence too, according to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, is ‘considered normal . . . A sample survey showed 82 per cent of women in rural Punjab feared violence resulting from their husbands’ displeasure over minor matters; in the most developed urban areas 52 per cent admitted being beaten by their husbands.’

Consider the following. A man dreams his wife has betrayed him. He wakes up and sees her lying next to him. In a fury he kills her. This really happened in Pakistan and the killer escaped punishment. If dreams are to be treated as justification for an honour killing, what woman is safe? Since the police and the judicial system regard murder in the family as a private affair, most cases don’t get to court even if they’re reported. Society, it’s said, needs to protect its foundations. So mostly we rely on the information collected by the Human Rights Commission and on courageous lawyers like Hina Jilani and Asma Jehangir, two sisters both of whom have received numerous death threats.

In 1999, Hina Jilani was in her office with Samia Sarwar, a mother of two from Peshawar seeking a divorce from her husband, when Sarwar’s mother burst into the room with two armed men in tow and had her daughter shot dead. In 1989 Samia Sarwar had married a first cousin. For six years he beat her and kicked her. But after he threw her downstairs when she was pregnant with their second child, she went back to her parents’ house. The minute she told them she wanted a divorce they threatened to kill her. Yet they were educated and wealthy people.

One widely reported murder this year was that of Tasleem Solangi, the 17-year-old daughter of a livestock trader in the Khairpur District of Sindh. She wanted to go to university and become a doctor like her uncle, but instead agreed to marry a cousin in order to settle a protracted family dispute over property. Her mother, Zakara Bibi, tried to stop her, but Tasleem was determined. Her father-in-law, Zamir Solangi, came to collect her and swore on the Koran that no harm would befall her. A month after the marriage, Zakara had a message from her daughter: ‘Please forgive me, mother. I was wrong and you were right. I fear they will kill me.’ On 7 March, they did. She was eight months pregnant. The Koran-swearer accused her of infidelity and said the baby was not his son’s. She went into labour, her child was born and instantly thrown to the dogs. She pleaded for mercy, but the dogs were set on her as well and the terrified girl was then shot dead. On this occasion at least there was an inquiry. Her husband was charged with Tasleem’s murder and is currently awaiting trial.

Another case much discussed this year is that of five women in Baluchistan who were buried alive in Baba Kot village, about 250 miles east of Quetta, the Baluch capital. Three of the women were young and wanted to marry men they’d chosen for themselves; two older women were helping them. Three male relatives have been arrested. According to the local police chief, the brother of two of the girls has admitted that he shot three of the women and helped bury them, though they weren’t even dead. The trial date is awaited.

Traditionalists have always considered love to be something that brings shame on families: patriarchs should be the ones to decide who is to be married to whom, often for reasons to do with property. If you fall in love, the 18th-century Urdu poet Mir Hassan explained (more than once), you will be burned by its fire and perish. That is what happened in the Punjabi city of Wah in late October. Now Wah has half a million inhabitants and Pakistan’s largest ordnance factories, but it was once an idyllic village almost floating on water. The streams and lakes that surrounded it attracted the Mughal emperor Jehangir, who stopped there on his way home from Kashmir, and is said to have exclaimed ‘Wah!’ or ‘Wow!’, thus giving the village its name. Before that it had been called Jalalsar after one of my forebears, Sardar Jalal Khan, a leader of the Khattar tribe around 800 years ago. His successors wanted to please the emperor and agreed to the name change. I can’t imagine that the decision was taken without a fierce struggle (one faction is said to have been deeply hostile to the arriviste Mughals), but those speaking sweetnesses to power won the day.

Jehangir built a beautiful, domed rest-house in Wah, surrounded on all sides by flowing water. In 1639, his son Shah Jehan supervised the landscaping of beautiful water gardens and pavilions. More than half a century ago, I used to play hide and seek here with my cousins. The pavilions were ruins by then, which made them even more magical on a moonlit night. A cousin swore that the ghosts of the Mughals could be seen in the mist on a winter night, but nobody believed her. The caretaker was extremely sharp-tongued, although when talking to my uncles and aunts, he masked his intelligence in language of exaggerated humility. We were never deceived and threatened to expose him if he gave us a hard time.

Other ghosts lurk there now. A mile and a half from the old village, my youngest maternal uncle, Sardar Ghairat Hyat Khan, built himself a house and moved out of the decaying manor house we’d all shared. My Kashmiri great-grandmother, Ayesha, moved with him. Before she became completely blind she was the best cook in the world and my visits were always rewarding. Shortly before I left Pakistan for Britain I went to say goodbye to her. She said: ‘I feel a moustache. Is it really you?’ ‘No,’ I replied trying to make my voice deeper, ‘I am a stranger here, but I was told your bakarkhanis tasted like heaven.’ Bakarkhanis are a crumbly, Kashmiri version of the croissant. I’ve not been to his house for a long time but I’m told it’s in a state of disrepair and crumbling like the bakarkhanis.

In the last week of October, my uncle’s granddaughter, Zainab, barely 18 years old, was shot dead by her brothers, Inam and Hamza Ahmed. Zainab apparently had a lover and despite repeated warnings refused to stop seeing him. She was on the phone to him in her grandfather’s house when her brothers pumped seven bullets into her body. I don’t know whether her mother, Ghairat’s oldest daughter Roohi, whom I last saw when she was about ten, was part of the plot. Whether or not she was involved, I find it deeply shocking that my uncle allowed the young woman’s body to be buried that same day without at least insisting that a First Information Report be lodged at the local police station, let alone demanding an autopsy. Zainab deserved at least that. I am told that Ghairat is old and frail, that he was angry and wanted to ring the police, but was talked out of it by his daughter and other members of his immediate family, who collectively recoiled at having to accept the consequences of what they had witnessed. Perhaps his faith in a just and merciful Allah was not as strong as he used to claim. Whatever the reason, it’s unacceptable. The body should be exhumed, the murderers arrested and put on trial, as the law requires.

 

Menulislah Maka Kau Kutangkap

Pagi ini, mata saya tertumbuk pada sebuah berita di Guardian (lihat bawah). Seorang penyair ditangkap. Ia dinilai melecehkan Islam, menodai al-Quran. Islam Samhan, penyair ini, memasukkan potongan-potongan Quran dalam puisinya tentang cinta.

Yang jadi pertanyaan di benak saya cuma begini: bagaimana kalau misalnya ayat-ayat itu di-insert ke dalam puisi tentang keindahan setangkai bunga? Mungkin si penyair akan aman. Di negeri kita ini, begitu banyak lirik lagu, puisi, cerpen, novel yang dengan sukaria menyusupkan ayat di dalamnya (bahkan ada novel yang nyaris separuhnya berisi ayat-ayat Quran).

Dan karya-karya itu, juga pengarangnya, aman-aman saja, bahkan mendapat banyak puja-puji. Karena, eh, karena, karya-karya itu berisi tentang betapa agungnya Tuhan dan betapa lemahnya manusia; betapa banyaknya dosa yang ditanggung manusia; betapa menyesalnya seorang pendosa; betapa besarnya nikmat yang dianugerahi Tuhan; betapa indahnya hidup; dan seterusnya.

Nah, giliran ada seorang penyair menyandingkan ayat dengan keindahan makhluk Tuhan bernama perempuan, keindahan hati ketika dianugerahi sebuah rasa yang tak terbayangkan–hm, mungkin cerita jadi lain. Seperti cerita si Islam ini.

Jadi apa bedanya? Bukankah yang disandingkan juga sama-sama ekspresi atas keindahan makhluk Tuhan, kenikmatan anugerahNya? Mungkin tidak ada bedanya, kecuali satu: kehendak yang-kuat. Jika yang-kuat menghendaki, si penyair aman bahkan mungkin dipuji. Dan jika yang-kuat merasa terancam, banyak cerita pahit bisa terjadi, dari sekadar diancam, ditangkap, hingga di-dor. Dan siapa yang-kuat? Dari mana asalnya? Dari Tuhankah?

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Guardian | Friday October 24 2008 14.24 BST

Jordanian police arrested a local writer on Tuesday for incorporating verses of the Qur’an, the Muslim holy book, into his love poetry, a judicial official said.

The poet, Islam Samhan, published his collection of poems, Grace like a Shadow, which allegedly insults the holy book, without the approval of the Jordanian government, the official added. The official spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not authorised to speak to the media.

Samhan was charged with harming the Islamic faith and violating the press and publication law for combining the sacred words of the Qur’an with sexual themes. If convicted the poet could face up to three years in jail.

Jordanian law bans the publication of any books or articles that could be seen as harmful to Islam and its Prophet Muhammad. More than two years ago, the court convicted the editors of two weekly newspapers of insulting Islam and sentenced them to two months in prison after they reprinted Danish political cartoons of Muhammad.

Jordanian writers and artists urged the government in a collective petition to immediately release the poet, saying the arrest is a “retreat in the freedom of expression,” and called for an end to the “oppression of freedom and intimidation practiced against intellectuals.”

 

Jomblo, Lajang, Uzzab

…hidup melajang bukan masalah, beban, kutukan, atau apalah. Yang penting menjalani hidup ini dengan melakukan hal terbaik dan bermanfaat bagi diri sendiri dan orang banyak.

Saya tiba-tiba teringat sebuah buku berjudul Ulama-Ulama Yang Tidak Menikah. Bukunya tipis. Terjemahan dari Bahasa Arab. Saya lupa judul aslinya. Al-Ulama al-uzzab, atau semacamnya lah. Saya berusaha cari versi aslinya, tapi tidak dapat. Versi terjemahan itu saya peroleh di JBC Kalibata. Kayaknya hanya satu-satunya yang tersisa. Sudah belel pula, tapi apa boleh buat, cuma tinggal satu entu. Saya ambil deh.

Di situ dicatat puluhan ulama yang tidak menikah. Kebanyakan mereka tidak punya alasan substansial kecuali ketenggelaman mereka dalam mencari ilmu. Mereka tidak menyatakan alasan eksplisit. Jadi, agak kurang jelas juga, apakah hidup melajang mereka itu sebuah pilihan.

Tapi ada juga yang terus terang. Mereka ini menyatakan tegas memang memilih hidup lajang. Saya tidak ingat lagi persisnya siapa, dan bagaimana argumen mereka (ada yang bisa bantu?). Yang saya ingat pokok alasannya adalah “melayani Allah”, atau macam gitu lah. (Jadinya, macam romo Katolik ya, begitu pikir saya waktu itu.)

Lantas, kutipan di atas punya siapa? Salah satu ulama yang tidak menikah itu? Hmm, bukan. Itu kata-kata seorang psikolog, Anisah Kortschak. Saya kutip dari berita di KoranTempo rubrik Gaya kemarin, “Belahan Jiwa”. Berita ini mengangkat laporan sebuah seminar, semacam seminar motivasi, yang tajuknya kayaknya sengaja ditembakkan ke jantung kegelisahan kaum urban. Coba lihat “The Greatest Secret Finding Your Soulmate”. Weleh, weleh, maut tenan iki!

Kayaknya, peserta seminar itu langsung kebayang di kepala trik-trik jitu ngegaet gebetan yang betul-betul the right person. Kali aja ada yang langsung pasang target: habis seminar ini gue harus bisa dapet belahan hati gue. Rugi dong kalau enggak. Sudah keluar duit banyak toh.

Hal macam gini emang khas urban. Lha gimana coba, kalau di kampung kan lain ceritanya. Kalau ada salah satu saudara, famili, atau yang masih bau-bau saudara jauh ketahuan belum menikah, segera saja yang lain sibuk cari jodoh buat dia. Coba ditemukan, tidak cocok, dicarikan lagi, ketemu, lama-lama cocok juga.

Nah, untuk kaum urban sekarang, itu sudah tidak zamannya lagi. Mau dijodohin, gengsi dong. Kagak modern blas. Mau cari sendiri, kok kayaknya enggak pede, atau susah cari yang selevel, atau kayaknya kebanyakan nyebelin, takut sakit hati lagi, dan seterusnya… Sampai muncullah biro jodoh, kolom jodoh di koran-koran, juga di internet… eh, mulai banyak juga seminar-seminar macam gini.

Tapi yang lebih repot tuh yang setengah-setengah. Sudah enggak klop dengan tradisi kampung lagi, tapi juga kurang masuk ke dunia urban. Ini orang kampung yang ke urban. Yah, macam saya ini lah. Orang kampung, masuk kota dan… jomblo. Tapi saya enggak anti kok dijodohin, meski mau saja asal… (wah, asalnya kayaknya puannnjang banget nih…) Saya banyak juga temen yang model begini ini.

Contohnya si N, cowok. Dia ini anak muda enerjik, pekerja kreatif. Belum tua juga, tapi bagi orang kampung, usia kepala 3 sudah “mengkhawatirkan”, atau “sudah telat”. Dia kalau sedang pulang ke kampungnya di Jember sana, ayahnya kalau ngelihat dia selalu kelihatan sedih gitu. Apalagi jika dia sedang main-main sama si keponakan (dari adik cowok dia) ). Waduh, makin terenyuh.

Tapi apa boleh buat, dia ogah juga dijodohin. Cari sendiri? Yah, ceritanya selalu sama: she is not the right one. Gitu terus. beberapa kali sudah mau tunangan, eh, batal. Katanya, dia enggak pas lah. Piuh! (Saya sama juga sih, cuma enggak se-dramatis itu deh).

Ada juga nih teman saya yang lain. Sama juga, kepala 3. Tapi ini cewek. Kalau curhat soal cowok, wuih, bisa berjam-jam. Tapi kalau soal nikah, hmm lain deh. Dia cerita, pernah ditanya rekan, kapan lu nikah. Apa dia jawab? Gue gak kepikiran kapan nikah, katanya. Malah, kalau dihitung-hitung, sehari, atau seminggu deh, eh, atau sebulan, belum tentu sekali gue mikirin nikah.

Hmm, cocok tenan. “Lajang memang bukan masalah. Yang penting bermanfaat bagi diri sendiri dan banyak orang lain.” Betul? Hidup jomblo! Jomblo seluruh dunia, mari bersatu!

Eh, tapi apa hubungannya dengan buku ulama tidak menikah tadi ya? Cari sendiri deh. Tapi sudah temukan hubungannya: ada di ingatan saya sendiri… he he…

 

Burqa Posmo

Suit suit he he… Oh, enggak perlu. Anda tidak perlu bersiul-siul ala Slank (macam dia punya lagu tuh) untuk menarik perhatian cewek ber-burqa.

Tapi tetap ada syaratnya: Anda harus punya gadget (handphone, PDA, smartphone, atau apa aja deh) berfasilitas bluetooth. Anda tinggal aktifkan Bluetooth, dan… siapa tahu cewek ber-burqa tadi mengirim foto-nya ke gadget Anda. Selanjutnya, pinjam iklan, terserah Anda…

Ini nyata lho. Asli! Di Jerman sana, sudah ada yang bikin burqa yang dilengkapi teknologi Bluetooth. Cek aja di sini.

 

Selamat Datang

Selamat datang, semua.

Ini sekadar ajang curah rasa dan pikiran saya. Personal, mungkin. Tapi yang personal itu juga political, kata orang. Saya tidak seratus persen mengamini adagium itu. Ada banyak sekali aspek-aspek penghayatan subjektif, yang benar-benar tak ada hubungannya dengan the political.

Apa yang coba saya share di sini adalah yang berkaitan dengan Islam dan pergumulannya dengan berbagai macam aspek kehidupan lainnya. Ini pun personal. Karena saya lahir dan besar dalam lingkungan tradisi Islam yang kental. Pada saat yang sama, saya menghirup nafas kehidupan yang bergelimang pengalaman manusiawiah.

Di sekeliling, dan juga di luar sana, kehidupan lebih aneka-ragam lagi. Dari segi cara mencari penghidupan alias cara berekonomi, kelas sosial, pendidikan, etnis, bahasa, jenis kelamin, gaya hidup, dan seterusnya. Sangat beraneka. Dan mereka semua punya pengalaman masing-masing soal Islam, ajarannya, makna personal, kreasi, siasat, dilema, atau juga trauma — bisa jadi loh…

Mudah-mudahan berguna. Jangan sungkan kasih komentar, kritik, dan… pujian juga boleh.