Bersaudara: Gemi

Ashes to Ashes

“ʾAstaġfirullāha rabbī wa-atūbu ʾilayhi”

The words rebounded around Gemi’s head as she uttered her prayers. Tonight she had knowingly done what was haram. Surely Allah (swt) the Most Merciful would forgive her. The Qur’an states Allah (swt) would not hold anything against her if her repentance was genuine. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to pray a few more times to make His forgiveness more likely.

Construction

Meet Gemi. Gemi is a devout Muslim born and raised in Jakarta, the political, entertainment, and fashion center of Indonesia. She does not give off airs stereotypical of those coming from such cosmopolitan backgrounds. Gemi is modest through and through, down to earth and jolly about most things. She could easily win the vote for “Ride-or-die-friend-who- would-bail-you-out-of-jail” (provided you did not deserve to be there).

Gemi was actually born into a nominal Muslim family. Loose observation of holidays and rules were the norm. Everything changed when her father was elected the local neighborhood official (RT). The RT is the duct tape that holds the neighborhood together when nerves begin to fray, among other things. Gemi’s father had to become all things to all people in order to be credible in everyone’s eyes. So too the other family members to avoid bringing shame to the newly elected RT.

Thus Gemi’s mother gained prestige, influence, and increased social responsibility. She became a Qu’ranic Studies leader despite her previously nominal life. The neighborhood ladies gathered in Gemi’s home once or twice a week to recite and study the Qur’an. Gemi herself followed suit as expected. She even enrolled at Islamic boarding school for a time.

Yet it is perhaps Gemi’s nominal beginnings that influenced Gemi’s reaction at Zero Hour.

T-Minus 10 minutes

Gemi was in high school at the time. She was always ready to be with friends and leave home and parents behind. Gemi’s friends invited her to a restaurant well known for its bakmi (from Chinese, literally “meat noodles”). More precisely, the restaurant was “legendaris”, communicating that its popularity was longstanding and perhaps even generational. She accepted the invitation without hesitation.

They sat down and eyed the menus. The bakmi here was twice as expensive as any other place! Then again, Gemi supposed the high price might be warranted if the food was tasty enough to enter into legend. They all ordered and their food was served shortly after. Her bakmi smelled rich and flavorful, savory, and sweet. Gemi instantly realized why her bakmi was so expensive.

T-Minus 1 Minute

Gemi sat and stared at the generous helping of pork that sat on her noodles. Gemi’s pork stared back, emitting a steaming invitation to partake in forbidden deliciousness. Regret streaked across her mind.

If only her less-devout or non-Muslim friends had been a little more careful for her sake. If only she recognized there were few Muslim customers in this restaurant. If only she remembered that Chinese restaurants tend to serve pork. If only she had realized everything before she paid for it! If only…

Gemi knew that it is not haram to eat pork if she ate it unintentionally or was absolutely dying and without option. Her problem was she knew it was pork. She was not dying. Gemi’s thoughts performed a back-of-the-envelope estimate between eternal damnation and momentary financial loss.

Interviewer Interlude

Gemi held a far-off stare for some time. Perhaps she was reliving the moment. I waited for the moment of truth with rapt attention till I could not. “So, what did you do?”

Gemi’s head tilted downward. Her eyes met mine and her lips formed an embarrassed smile. Her voice was at half-volume, clear, infused with cringe. “Saya terlanjur…”

Zero Hour

Gemi pushed eternal damnation to the backburner. Financial loss won out. She had already paid a handsome price; it made no sense to lose the money and the food. She steeled her soul, brought the bakmi to her lips, and gave up her pork-virginity.

The world did not burn down around her. She was not struck dead. Gemi finished her food flavored with guilt and regret. She resolved to pray extra later that night.

Dust to Dust

Then I did a terrible thing. I laughed loudly enough for the entire wing of our building to hear me. This was the best laugh I’d had since moving to Indonesia, admittedly at my poor friend’s expense. I could not help it. Nor did I stop.

My terribleness compounded. I gathered myself enough to posit, “The more sinful it is, the better it tastes, amiright!?” A fresh round of laughter echoed down the hallways. With another rueful smile, Gemi agreed, “Ya, Pak.” I apologized afterwards. Gemi was gracious enough to forgive me.

Living is Edgy

I am hard-pressed to explain why I laughed so hard. Part of my laughter originated from Gemi’s embarrassment at admitting she had eaten the forbidden fruit and gained forbidden knowledge. Part of it stemmed from the absurdity of a low-cost meal in juxtaposition with the highest eternal stakes (according to my adult perspective… high school students think differently).

The rest of it stems from the fact that I relate to Gemi’s struggle. “Terlanjur” concisely encompasses transgress, regret, and continuation in one fluid process. One cannot simply turn back once a threshold is crossed. We must follow through although we know we will regret it later. This is a lie of course, but it never feels that way. Who has not stood at the precipice, uttered, “Ahhh….. dammit….”, and then jumped?

Momentary dilemmas like these are what make us wonderfully and beautifully human. Telling a person you’re attracted to them even though they don’t find you attractive. Doing something undignifying because you didn’t think the suggestion was serious. Putting on pink socks that were formerly white. Eating forbidden noodles that were too expensive to not eat (but possibly eternally costly to eat). To terlanjur is a consequence of living, and it’s better this way. I think. It couldn’t hurt to pray extra.