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.