Everything is green and religius in Madura

Everything is green and religius in Madura

By Dini S. Djalal

SAMPANG, Madura (JP): I was half asleep when the ferry arrived
at the port town of Kamal, but even in my midnight stupor, I
could make out the silver dome and crescent-moon glimmering in
the dark. This mosque was the first thing I saw when I arrived in
Madura.

It was a telling glimpse of what lay ahead. Madura is hardly
the only place in Indonesia where piety rules, but the Madurese
religious zeal is truly intense. The grass is not green because
of Madura's dry climate, but almost everything else is -- United
Development Party (PPP) green, Islamic green. In Kedungdung, a
small village 15 minutes north of Sampang, a man passed on a
motorcycle. He wore a green robe, green pants, and on his head
was a green turban with a star.

Religion is everywhere. It crops up in conversation when least
expected. When the tap in my hotel room was blocked and I
complained of no running water -- apparently a common problem
caused by high salt density in the water -- a man in a peci said
"We don't have much around here, but we do have religion."

Religion they have in abundance, and, by the sounds of it, in
stereo. At dawn, sunset, and every other prayer time, the whole
island shakes with fervent invocations to pray. Prayers are heard
throughout Indonesia but because isolated Madura is so still and
quiet, that when the cries break the silence, they pulsate and
pierce the senses in an unforgettable way. It is a time of
awakening, for the Madurese and those observing.

But recent awakenings have not been as intermittent, or as
innocuous. News of how thousands of Madurese rioted last week in
protest of alleged vote-rigging was front page news across the
country.

Government buildings and houses, banks and shops, in the
districts of Sampang, Pemakasan, and Sumenep, were attacked and
burnt down by angry Madurese accusing the government of ignoring
their votes for the Islamic-oriented United Development Party,
the PPP.

In Kedungdung, all that's left of ballot boxes at the District
Chief's office are mounds of ash. Two hundred teachers who served
as election witnesses have fled after their houses were ransacked
by mobs carrying sickles. When Madura leaves its languor, it is
to everyone's peril.

The rage the Madurese are capable of is startling, although
their reputation as brawlers betrays their otherwise generous
disposition. Even I, having traveled through West Kalimantan
where Dayaks and Madurese engaged in vengeful combat earlier this
year, believed the gossip. But it is bad gossip -- underneath the
Madurese' rough manners lies an endearing kindness.

Yes, the Madurese have tempers as hot as the sun-burnt land on
which they carve out a meager existence. But here, despite the
spartan accommodation, hospitality is a cottage industry. The
Madurese do not behave in hushed-voice, eager-to-please Javanese
fashion. But they will run down the street to find ice for your
tea and offer you meat while they eat plain rice, all the while
barking at you in that famed Madurese growl.

Now their growl screens not hospitality, but outrage --
although during our visit, which coincided with the visit of
battalions of troops, the outrage bursting just days earlier was
safely subdued. Why and how? Only the religious leaders seem to
hold the answers.

Journalists certainly do not. The day before votes were cast
again Wednesday, the PPP office in Sampang was full of reporters
anxious about whether violence would break out again. After all,
the PPP had defiantly declared the elections unfair and said it
would not participate in any way unless the re-vote was done at
all the 1,033 polls across Madura.

Yet the mood in Sampang was quiet. When asked what the PPP
would do during the re-vote, local PPP leader Hasan Ashari said,
"we will be good observers". Minutes earlier he said the
elections were "like a war, when actually it's supposed to be a
festival of democracy." Fighting words, but where were the raised
fists?

The Madurese composure crushed our expectations of bug-eyed
hollering like was seen during the election campaign. Even the
hyperkinetic religious leader H. Alawi Muhammad, was bafflingly
sedate. But Alawi's guest before us was Syamsul Ma'ris, the
regional commander of East Java. The two seemed to get on
exceedingly well. They joked together, and when the military
chief bid the Moslem leader goodbye, he kissed Alawi's hand.
Alawi placated his worried guests. When asked about expected
trouble, Alawi said "don't worry, nothing will happen."

Busy voters

And nothing did happen on voting day, except that many
soldiers watched a few people vote. Haji A. Muzhawar, head of the
election at Gunung Sekar village, said people were not voting
because "they're busy cooking at home. You can't expect people to
vote twice, they just don't have the time."

Attracting more interest seemed to be Alawi's relentless
efforts to release the remaining four captives charged with
inciting the riots. Alawi told a local paper that he promises
security in exchange for the prisoners. The man, regarded as
Madura's most influential religious leader, is keeping his word.

The power of the religious leaders cannot be understated.
While Alawi chatted with the army chief, students at his Islamic
boarding school mingled with the soldiers. At the PPP office,
even Hasan Ashari said excitedly, "Look, a religious leader is
here".

So it seems that here, religion can both ignite and cool
passions. On voting day, Sampang's closed shops and Kedungdung's
army roadblocks hinted at tension, but otherwise it was business
as usual. The PPP office was closed, and Alawi low-profile. When
the results announced Golkar's victory -- a hollow victory
considering a 65 percent turnout -- there was no yelling, no
rock-throwing, just the shuffling of tired feet making their way
home, or to the nearest mosque.