Right Cause, Wrong Battle.

Just called kampong and there’s this sharp pain in my tummy and I just have to blog right away.

My dad, after his retirement, has chosen to live a very simple life. He spent mornings in the lands he purchased which he hopes to be our, the children, durians orchards. He came back home for lunch, and spent late afternoon around the house or at the future durian orchards. He spent Maghrib and Isyak in the old surau nearby and came home for dinner, watching F1 or football or currently AF. Except, for certain days, he and his best friend, Pak Cik Mat Som, will go out, sometimes near or far, driving the kereta jenazah to take some bodies back to our small little Lenggong.

The kereta jenazah is actually his prerogative. He worked on the Body to work on the Fund (something named Badan Khairat Kematian and Kebajikan Surau Kampung Masjid Lama Lenggong or something like that), getting the Body regularized and finally get the Fund worked out. We managed to raise some money after a few years, and he managed to secure a second hand ambulance from Hospital Kuala Kangsar. The vehicle somehow, broke down a lot, we spent more money on the maintenance. Until one day, the Tabung Haji big shot passed by the Surau, saw the kampong boys were pushing the dead kereta jenazah, of course without any body in! We then got a brand new vehicle from the Tabung Haji.

So, this is not about my dad.

My dad, at his recent trip, had been to a place further, to pick up a body from a Prison whom had just received his death sentence. If you remember, six years ago, there was this big news about al-Maunah, who took over a school over a hill and killed two people, having in their possession a mountain of army guns. These were people trained in Afghanistan, who fought in the name of God. I’m not denying any injustice or justice done to them. I just believe that it is a Battle with a good-cause but chosen at the wrong place, wrong time and wrong enemy. Wonder how big could they be a help at Labenon, fighting the Israelis, should they be still alive.

Amin, or late Amin shall I say, was raised in Jenalik, the very same kampong where the school was taken over. His father sold Apam Balik at Pekan Sabtu at Lenggong, we bought his many times with him being the sole apam balik seller. His mother organized yearly trips for Umrah. His four accomplices’ sentences has taken place few months ago, but he asked a deferment to see his mother who went for Umrah.

On the day the sentence took place, my father and pakcik matsom departed Lenggong at around 1.30 a.m. Imagine, how sayu it is, the kereta jenazah start moving when the man is still alive. He was hung ( I notice I have been avoiding to use the word hang, I pulled a sigh when I finally wrote one) right after Subuh. They told that he recited Azan and for three short seconds, the room’s light went off. The body was then taken to Hospital for verification and then my dad took him into the kereta jenazah. He was neither kapan-ed nor bathed for the family had asked to perform those themselves.

My dad was moving along the highway, three hours with him, the man who had fought for a battle he believed true, with skin around his neck melecet caused by the ropes that has taken his life.

For a split of moment, I have thrown away all the judgment. I didn’t know whether to feel sad or the feel he-deserved-so. Yes, he has taken two lives. Yes, if we want to play god, we might say that his sins have been washed away receiving such punishment and he died, clear of any. We can’t tell whether his death is syahid, neither can we telling that it’s not. It’s all His rules, His judgment, the Mighty Allah. For all I know, he must have repented for he has been given six years to do so.

And how about us? Do we have six years? Do we know?

Can’t say he is lucky to end his life that way, being given time fight for a battle he truly believed, being given time to repent. But can’t help but feeling so.

My feeling is a mixture of sad and sebak and sayu. Sometimes English doesn’t do justice to me, eh. I just can wish that if the man and his boys are still around, they’ll be jumping at the front line at this very moment at Lebanon, safeguarding the children and the women. Sad, isn’t it, to know that such valuable lives are wasted on a wrong battle.

Or was it a truly wrong one? Who am I to judge…..