Four huge historical pillars, remnants of an ancient mosque built in 1380, were immortalized inside a wooden mosque circa 1988 in Tubig Indanan, Simunul, Tawi-Tawi. The prospect of seeing this holy house surrounded by white sand inside a picket fence thrilled us. When we got there, I was appalled to see malongs on a clothesline beside the shrine, even if they were antique silk Tadjung. It seemed to me a desecration of the oldest reliquary in the name of Islam, built even before the Christians constructed their Catholic churches in the Philippines.
We looked for the caretaker, a small, cranky old man, and convinced him to allow us to enter the enclosure to see the four posts, a testimony to Islam. As we stood in front of the mosque, we were not quite sure what prayers to recite, awed by the history of this faraway shrine. We had obeyed the regulations. “No person shall enter while she is under grave state of impurity.” And, yes, we planted the right foot first and then the left as the sunnahs teach. Alas, we couldn’t recite the dua’a, which entails another lifetime to learn.
The pillars were tall and round. Their paint, once in vibrant shades of red, blue, and yellow, were faded yet elegant in what have become matte colors. What numerous devotees these august wooden structures have witnessed! Quickly, Assemblyman Ismael “Pochong” Abubakar, Governor Gerry Matba, and myself looked for little tin containers and scooped up some white sand to treasure for good luck.
Who built this mosque in 1380? Cesar Majul writes that the missionary’s name was Makhdum Ibrahim Al-Akbar bin Jamaheddin Al Hussaini or Sayyid Makhdum Al-Akbar bin Jamaluddin Al Hussaini. Professor Najib Saleeby states that this Imam’s name is unknown and he was simply addressed as Makhdum or Karimul Makhdum, reverend scholar. But both are actually titles.
The distinct features of the mosque we witnessed are, first, there is the niche or mihrab, which is built facing the direction of the Ka’aba in Mecca. That is to the east. Each mosque has an elevation dais or a mimbar on which stands the khatib, who delivers the sermon. As a third feature, every mosque has a dabudabu, a wooden drum around six feet long, like those I’ve seen in Lanao Sur, Malaysia and Indonesia, with one end covered in goat skin and the other open and left to hang horizontally. Beating on the goat skin calls the faithful to prayer. Today, many mosques use loud speakers in place of the dabudabu. What a pity. But always there is a man, the crier who climbs stairs to the tall minaret attached to the mosque and high above announces the call to prayer.
That crier — billal — has awakened me numerous times in Taluksangay, Zamboanga at 4:30 a.m. I would fall asleep listening to the waves of the sea in the Nuño Residence past midnight doing my thesis. At early dawn the billal called out “Hayalal Falah, Hayalal Salah Lailaha Ilalla Alahu Akbar.” “Prepare yourselves for prayers.”
Finally, each mosque provides ample facilities for the ritual of ablution. There are common enclosures with faucets so devotees can wash their hands, feet, and face to clean themselves before entering the mosque barefooted to pray. The women and the men must be seated separately from each other. The men in front, the women way in the back as mandated by the tradition of the prophets called Hadith.
It’s almost like it was centuries ago before I returned to Simunul to see the wooden mosque, now a pure white sizeable church made of cement and tiles with two crankier old men, who exhibited cataracts in both eyes.
Two huge men dressed in robes, not a malong, direct our party of 18 to remove our shoes and keep quiet and take as many photographs as we want anywhere, even by the big mimbar. Some of my companions even leaned on it as though they were preachers. I was sure we’d be reprimanded. But, no, the two Bapas didn’t mind. They were getting nicer after all, hearing a cacophony of Samal and Tausug a bunch of “Friendly Forces.”
I noticed the pillar had become a bit lighter in color having seen more typhoons, sun and wind. Shiny varnish protected splinters from jutting out to hurt devotees who touched it in praise. However, it gave the appearance of something not quite old although it is dated 1380. The surrounding white sand is gone with an earthen road and a sari-sari store with banners “Vote Halipa… Vote Jaafar… Vote Rashiden… Bederi… Sadikul” in front of the mosque. Worshipers are by the way not summoned by the dabudabu drum for prayer. A loudspeaker calls the residents to the mosque. The dabudabu you can find in my house, vertical not horizontal.
The elevated ground behind this holy shrine is the tomb of Makhdum, the prophet who caused this mosque to be revered and Islam the reason for its existence. We pray inside a steel picket fence as instructed, beside the remaining white sand laid over the grave which was once just a mound with grass on it surrounded by a low hollow block wall as enclosure. We are advised our desires will come true if we pray to Makhdum as our intercessor/messenger to Allah.
A steel bracelet and a handkerchief have been thrown on the ground on the long tomb to serve as offering, breaking away from material wealth to give way to make a dream come true. I pray for Noynoy’s victory under the scorching sun. The female teachers behind me pray for an additional classroom for the children of Simunul. The men want a waiting shed by the boat landing near the pathway of rocks that can cause a broken ankle. Garbage lines this pathway of sand and limestone that makes me sad, even very sick at the sight of fish eating this rotting debris thrown in the water — and we eat the fish! The noisy, curious children behind me are a typical sight, from Luzon to Mindanao, following umbrella-bearing attendants everywhere.
We play a game among the women, who are almost all teachers. “Sing any song and win a prize…” They donated their prizes amounting to P10,000 to construct the battered roof of the Tubig Indangan grandstand out of nipa and GI sheets. In Manila that would cost triple.
I smile remembering a Koran commentary with the same companion beside me of 1988 and it’s 2010 now, former Speaker of the Autonomous Regional for Muslim Mindanao Ismael “Pochong” Abubakar. He has always justified our appetite for seaweed, tahay, kugita, tehe-tehe and lots more using this abbreviated commentary from the Koran…
“In the physical pleasures of life the crime is to commit excess. But remember there is non-merit in abstention for doing things that are good and lawful like filling up our tummies with sea foods to live longer.”