Send me a shroud

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