When Prostration Grows on a Land Once 'Cursed'

Under the shadow of the Buah Batu Toll’s concrete pillars, there is a story few know—the tale of a place once feared, now a space for people to bow their heads. How could a patch of land branded for thugs and illicit deals become a 24-hour house of worship?

The underpass used to be more avoided than passed through. The stench of used oil mixed with rubbish hung in the air. Puddles turned to slippery mud after rain. Wariness was the common language. Thugs roamed openly, motorcycle gangs used it as a stopover, and illegal transactions took place almost without concealment. The tension seemed to hang, as if the place had its own law.

For local residents, crossing there took nerve. Saepul Rohmat (47) still recalls those times. “It was very scary. Many thugs roamed around,” he recalls. Almost every night there was a disturbance. There was even a police raid because of illegal oil sales. Nightfall came sooner for residents seeking safety.

But change often arises from those who had once belonged to the darkness themselves. Saepul had lived at the centre of motorcycle gangs. He knew the harshness of the streets and the adrenaline that drove it.

Until one day, he chose to reform. He wanted to abandon the old pattern and draw closer to religion. Not just changing for himself, but also guiding others out of the same circle.

Together with nine colleagues, he founded Masjid Hijrah Bawah Jembatan Tol Buah Batu, known as Masjid Hijriah BJTB, directly under the bridge near the Buah Batu Toll exit. The location is strategic, yet precarious. “We want to reform and establish a mosque to improve ourselves,” he said.

The struggle did not begin with cement and bricks, but with mediation. They had to speak with the preman who had long controlled the area. A compromise was offered, and the approach was gradual. A motorcycle parking area measuring 6x8 metres began to be arranged. Each step was carefully planned; one wrong move could spark conflict.

Resistance came. The threat was tangible. There was even a near hundred motorcycles gathering, triggering tensions that forced them to stay vigilant for two full days to prevent vandalism. “We stood guard for two full days, but eventually the mosque was safe,” Saepul recalls. Those nights were filled with adrenaline and soft prayers.