Send me a shroud

By A.D. Donggo

"Send me a shroud. Don't know when I'm going to die."

Those two short sentences in Abang's letter gave me the shock of my life. "Send me a shroud" and "Don't know when I'm going to die."

Ah, how he daunted me.

Like an inseparable couple, so are death and a shroud. When a Muslim dies, he or she will be bathed and then wrapped in a shroud. When someone dies, his or her body which was born naked to this world will be wrapped in a shroud -- a layer, two layers of it, depending on one's financial ability -- to cover its nakedness. Someone who dies and is going to see his or her Creator should not be allowed to go naked.

But it was the sentence "Don't know when I'm going to die" which disturbed me most. How wise my Abang was, I said to myself. Nobody knows when he or she is going to die. Such an insight, this Abang of mine had.

I did not pay much attention to his request for the shroud. I could not comprehend Abang's words that he did not know when he was going to die. Everyone is going to die, true, but no one knows the exact hour or the day. Abang seemed to realize that. That might be a reflection of his humbleness, his recognition of the power of the Creator.

Abang was no expert in religious matters, that I know. Abang was a layman when it concerned religion, with no exceptional insight about death or life. But Abang talked like a sufi, which was why I was very proud of him.

It could be that even though he did not know when he was going to die he had sensed that it was near. I know that Abang had kept saying he no longer had the strength to plow his rice field. That was all he had told me. To plow is an act of devotion for a farmer. When his body is no longer strong enough to lead his buffalo or maneuver his plow in straight lines along the paddy field, those are signs that a farmer is coming to the end of his time. A sign that his time has arrived, although he will not know the exact hour. Abang had arrived at this stage.

How Abang had made me proud of him, and of other farmers who are aware of the power of the Creator. They know there is a time to leave. With this awareness comes the knowledge of the need to prepare the shroud. In the past it was something one could easily buy; mothers or housewives spun and wove the shroud to be made ready for their husbands, for themselves, for their grandfathers or grandmothers who would one day leave this earth.

"How beautiful, that knowledge, that insight," I said to myself.

But how sad, too. Death is crippling. Death is an absolute surrender.

Sending a shroud to Abang was no big deal for me. I could buy meters of the linen, but something popped into my head. Had he become so poor, my Abang, that he could not buy his own shroud? I know that Abang's children are grown up. They all could buy the shroud for their father. Besides, Abang's request had left a me with a big question mark. Have people abandoned the tradition of preparing their own or a family member's shroud? Has Kakak, Abang's wife, stopped weaving just because she could now buy the cloth anywhere as long as she had the money?

Has everything changed?

The questions came to mind in rapid succession. There was another question. Could it be that Abang asked me to send him the shroud simply to remind me? Do I still think of him?

I have to admit that of the four of us (I'm the youngest), it was to me that Abang confided most. I am the brother he loves most. When I had to leave for town to continue my studies, it was Abang who went with me. Not father. Our relationship is like that of a father and a son.

How many years have since passed? Ten, twenty years? Yes, almost twenty years. And during those years I have never sent him news. This is my weakness. Out of sight, out of mind. Father, mother, Abang and my siblings. Even when father and mother died, I did not see them. I went home several years later, to visit their graves. I was a rotten son. I had sinned against my family. However, I believe that death, the end of one's journey in this world, is unpredictable. Even if I had been at my father's and mother's side when they both were preparing for their final trip, would I have been able to prevent death from claiming them? I don't think so. No one can defy fate. No one can put off what God has willed.

That is my belief. When I heard news that father and mother were dying, the first thing that came into my mind was to pray that God bless both people who had given birth to me and had raised me, to bless them in their final trip and give them a place by His side.

Now Abang disturbed me with his request for the shroud. At first I thought it was nothing more than a joke. My conscience said otherwise. It was a serious request. Not because Abang and his children could not provide the shroud themselves, but because Abang wanted me to provide it for him. Also, I think, not because Abang was asking me to pay him back for what he had done for me, for meeting all my needs when I was at school. It is our relationship that was behind his request. The mental relationship between a brother and a younger sibling is often stronger than that of a father and his son. I feel it myself. It was Abang's wish to have his body covered by the shroud his brother sent him. That was the main reason behind his request. He made me proud of myself. I had done something good and pleasing for Abang at the end of his worldly journey.

Another thought entered my mind. Maybe Abang wanted to remind me of my indifference, of my ill-conduct for not caring for those far away from me. To make me care for them. To make me realize that I have family and relatives. To remind me to maintain family ties, to not cut them off simply because of distance. Was this what Abang was really trying to do? I had sinned against father and mother when they passed away. He did not want me to commit a similar sin.

Was that what Abang was trying to say? I could not be sure.

Now Abang's words that he did not know when he was going to die returned to me in a flash. Was there something else, something hidden behind Abang's words? It could be that Abang actually wanted to tell me that he had changed, that he had come to understand better the meaning of life and death. Life is another journey for death. Both are like siblings, inseparable. They are only separated by a distance. Whether it is a long distance or a short one, is an unsolvable puzzle.

What about the smart people, experts with a greater capacity to interpret life and death? Have they determined the distance between life and death, and that they will arrive at the end of their journey after a certain distance? It is something a layman cannot know.

I have granted Abang's wish. I have sent him the shroud, Albeit not as promptly as he would had asked. Not because I did not have the money. It's just there was a mischievous thought that came into my mind. I feared that if I sent the shroud immediately after I received his letter, Abang would die instantly. Abang postponed his trip to wait for the shroud.

I did not know why I had that thought which was in defiance of fate. Death is not something determined by a shroud, but something determined by a force beyond the capacity of human senses. God has set the time for each of His creations, when they will return to Him. Without exception. No special treatment. Before Him, all creatures are the same.

Now I remember that according to old villagers, a shroud made ready before one's death has the power to stall death. To postpone the final journey. I cannot be sure of it. Abang wanted me to send him the shroud to stall his death. Was it the real meaning of his words, that he did not know when he was going to die?

I really don't understand, but several days after I had sent the shroud I had news that Abang had died. They said as soon as the shroud reached him, Abang died peacefully. As he drew in his last breath, he hugged the shroud, as if afraid someone would take it away from him.

"You have guided your Abang during his peaceful final trip. Your Abang asked to tell you that if you have time, to come home and visit his grave. That was your Abang's last message," was the short message Kakak sent me.

I had guided Abang in his final trip with peace? Simply because of a piece of shroud? Ah, no, I told myself. It was Abang's good deeds which had guided him to the end of a peaceful trip.

Translated by Adhi I.M.

Note: Abang = older brother Kakak = older sister sufi = Muslim mystic