Story from My Mother X: Mecca and Madinah

Story from My Mother X: Mecca and Madinah

1. My parents were very fond of their experience doing the Haj. Even though it was a few years ago, they were talking as if it was yesterday. It was a lifetime trip for them, their one and only trip for the Haj.
Let me go straight to the golden question; yes my father was lost for almost 24 hours in Mina, after the obligatory stone throwing. According to my mother, Basiron, Siti, my father and my mother were walking together, and kept an eye on each other so that they don’t get lost, or fall. But all of a sudden my father was nowhere to be seen, they were searching for my father, but they couldn’t find him. So the best thing for them to do is go back to the tent, report to Tabung Haji representatives and pray. Basiron also rang home, so that everyone in Malaysia would also pray together. 24 hours later, my father found his way back to the tent. He told my mother that someone big and tall, asked him along to go around the stone throwing site more than a couple of rounds, and took him back to the Malaysian tent, “This is your place”

Who was the big and tall man? No one knows.

2. At Masjidil Haram in Mecca, while doing tawaf, a group of people always do the tawaf in group, and walk close to each other. These group of people, when they walk doing tawaf, would push everyone else aside, including old people and the infirm. So watch out, you might get hurt being pushed aside or stepped on.

3. One of the big no-no while you were at Tanah Haram is to say bad things to living things and animals that you came across. There are many cats in Mecca. They would be begging for food at the food courts and dining halls, even in your dorm room. There was a story of man who had some meat set aside on his bed. While he was eating some, one cat came and asked for some, by meowing. He asked the cat to go away, and abuse the cat verbally in the process. When he was gone to the Masjid, a group of cats ripped his bed sheet and his clothes.

4. One of my mother’s roommates had some bananas on the bed. She wanted to eat it later, but a big mouse ate it that night. The woman was pissed off, she said, “Kurang ajar betul tikus tu”. So what happened next? The mouse left a deposit of excrement on the woman’s blanket.

5. The Masjid either in Mecca or Madinah is big. When you enter through one door, do remember which one, and if you are lost, better stay at one place, rather than walking around trying to find your way. A friend of my mother, who lives in the next village, went to hajj with her son. She was lost for 3 days, because she kept on walking, trying to find her own way.

6. There is a cave in Mecca, the Thur Cave, where the Prophet meditated and spent his time before he became Prophet. Any Muslim who is clean spiritually and free of sins, big or small would fit in the cave. But if you are not clean from sins, you wouldn’t fit in.
At the Prophet’s tomb in Madinah, the same thing applies, you may not fit into the door, and if you get in, you may not be able to see the tomb. My mother told me that her companion could get in the door and see the tomb, but that there was no carpet nor prayer mat on the floor. My mother told me that when she came in there was carpet and prayer mat, so she could do her prayer, but her companion only found desert sand on the floor. She asked my mother if she took the prayer mat (sajdah) away. My mother said no, and suggested to her companion that she perform her prayer on the sand.

7. Beware, if you have been a bad person, and hasn’t asked forgiveness from Allah, or Allah has not forgiven you for your past sins, Allah would show His displeasure to you. My mother told me the story of Mbok N* (name withheld, because she is still alive, but couldn’t move anymore) who went to hajj a few years before my mother. She told my mother that in Masjidil Haram she went for tawaf, but couldn’t see Kaaba at all. Yes she went around the Kaaba with others, but couldn’t see the Kaaba. Then at Arafah, for a day and night, she felt that she was in a forest full of duri (nettles) and fiery red ants. She couldn’t sit nor move. The ants were biting her legs. But when the hajj rituals at Arafah finished, she was released from her misery.
I was told by my mother that in her younger days she helped many women who wanted to abort their fetuses, among other things.
“Kalau di uli saja, lama lama kan keluar” my mother said.
“Dia tu sukakan duit, masa dulu dia kenakan bayaran RM600-700 untuk satu kes, jadi ya sauk duit saja” she continued.
I remember all those years ago, she had the reputation as a marriage broker, unmarried men who were looking for a wife would go to her, and she then would visit the families of available unmarried women and asked if any of the unmarried women interested. She acted as the village matchmaker, and charged the groom a couple of hundred ringgits for the privilege. Being a matchmaker is an honourable job in Islam, same like building a mosque/masjid.

8. Tahiron told me of his experience in Mecca. He was at the canteen with his wife, he ordered tea, and his wife ordered Nescafe. But when the drinks arrived, his wife wanted to swap, she wanted the tea instead.
“Habislah, kalau minum Nescafe ni tentu tak boleh tidur” Tahiron said to himself.
That night, after seeing off his wife, and had shower, he went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. He felf as if a bright light shining to his eyes. He remembered what he said, about not being able to sleep if he drink Nescafe. So he wanted to punish himself that night by going to Masjidil Haram and perform tawaf and sya’ee.
After that, while still at the Masjidil Haram, he saw a group of Indonesian pilgrims kissing and hugging a stone pillar just 10 metres away from him. He was curious, so he asked an Indonesian pilgrim who was passing by.
“Setahu saya, masa saya belajar Haji, tidak ada amalan seperti ini dalam ibadah haji pakcik, amalan apa kah itu?” Tahiron asked, as far as he knew, there is no ritual like the group of Indonesians was doing in Hajj.
Do not follow them, or come near that pillar, the old man said. What they were doing was wrong, if do what they do, a Djinn will follow you back to your homeland. That pillar is Djinn’s pillar, the man continued.
Tahiron went back to his hotel room, and before he arrived at his room he was already so sleepy.

On the last day before he departed for home, Tahiron joined Isha prayer at Masjidil Haram. He was at the front of the Kaaba, and was talking to an old Indonesian man. He explained to me that the lights at the Masjidil Haram are so bright, that you couldn’t see the night sky. The old Indonesian man explained to him that if you can see the moon than the evening star (Mars) while you were at Masjidil Haram, there is a very good chance that your wish would be granted by Allah. He looked up to the night sky, and to his surprise he saw the moon and the evening star between two minarets. So he showed them to the old man, and the old man said that he wish to see the imam, Sheikh Sudais. To his surprise shortly after that came an Arab policeman telling him to move aside and brought along a large prayer mat, then another one bringing microphone set. The microphone system at Masjidil Haram has 5 microphone at top at standing height, 3 in the middle, rukuk height and 3 at the bottom, for sujud. He said Sheikh Sudais is not a large person, of a small stature, about 5’ 4”. So that Isha prayer they both had the privilege of performing prayer right behind the Imam Sheikh Sudais.

Congratulations Pakatan Rakyat for wresting P036

Congratulations to Pakatan Rakyat for wresting P036 from BN.
Now its time to be humble and reaching out to the others.
After all its Rakyat's choice.

Here in Selangor, the voices on the ground in the BN stronghold and BN controlled constituencies, is that next time most villagers and voters will vote for Pakatan Rakyat. They have seen the difference. They can taste the difference.hey have benefited the difference. The newly appointed Pakatan village head doesnt discriminate like the previous BN appointed village heads.
There are more benefits under Pakatan Govt.
The Pakatan Govt is faster to help. The village head has conscience, and turun padang.

Keep up the good job. Please do better.

Story from My Mother IX: Orang Bunian

Story from My Mother IX: Orang Bunian

I heard Orang Bunian stories a few times; the first time was when I was a kid. Pak Harun, a bank worker bought a land in our village. Apparently there was an Orang Bunian family living at the back of his land. One day the Orang Bunian man met Pak Harun, and welcomed him. The Orang Bunian appeared just like a normal person, wearing songkok, shirt and kain pelikat. He enquired about Pak Harun’s family, and wished each other happiness and well being. Apparently the Orang Bunian didn’t like the previous owner of the land, because he was panas baran type and beat up his wife and children.

What surprise me was that I do not know that I have Orang Bunian as a neighbour all these years. (see picture) The place is overgrown with nipah, bananas trees and coconut trees, cool and ummh, scary. Sometimes you would see ayam hutan, (jungle fowl) fly into the undergrowth to hide. The other day I saw monkeys there.
Azman is my mother’s new neighbour, he had just moved in a few months ago. After he settled down, the story was that an old couple, about sixties came over and introduced themselves as Azman’s neighbour one night. When asked where did they live, because Azman hasn’t seen them before, they just casually said, “Situ ha, seberang jalan tu” (Just over there, across the road). Azman told my parent and Tahiron about it.
Tahiron said, “Orang Bunian tu tunjukkan diri dia pada selected type of people only, jenis orang yang baik atau orang yang jahat. Jenis orang yang tahap nafsu dia tinggi, bukan macam jenis kita, jenis nafsu amarah ni.”

The other picture, of a piece of land, cleared and abandoned. I was told that the plan was to build a football stadium (a small one) at the site. When the land was cleared to this stage by the contractor, a delegation of Orang Bunian meet Tok Sidang of my village and complained that their village is being destroyed by the contractor. The Orang Bunian went further by issuing threat that if the contractor doesn’t stop, someone will be killed there. Tok Sidang had no choice but to stop the project.

One time, a villager close to that site had a kenduri kahwin. Towards the evening, when there were fewer guests, a van came. The people were wearing green, ie green shirt, green trousers and green songkok. Some of them speak Javanese fluently, while some of them speak Malay. Then even give money gifts just like what people normally do in these parts of Selangor. Like normal guests to a wedding, they were served with rice and beef rendang and traditional kuih. But then the host went inside to got something, when he came out again, they all disappeared, gone. Sure the house owner knew that they were Orang Bunian.

Orang Asli Community of Cameron Highlands

Orang Asli Community of Cameron Highlands

Pahang State border marker is close to Ringlet, so all small Orang Asli communities before that you see before you reach Ringlet are Perakians. The road to Cameron is windy and narrow, but the scenery is beautiful.
There are Orang Asli communities in and around Kuala Woh, with their stalls selling forest products dotted the roadside. Some of their houses are made of wood poles, fresh from the tree, bamboo walls and attap.
Those in Tanah Rata have better housing, mostly in cinder block and zinc PPRT style. There are also some chalets for visitor for rent to generate income for the community. I was told that the Kampung Raja community was relocated from the dam site near Ringlet many years ago.
I asked why Orang Asli still live in their traditional houses, wooden poles, bamboo walls and attap as cover from rain. The answer was that cinder block house PPRT style doesn’t suit them, too hot and stuffy, no ventilation unlike their traditional houses.
I was also told that the help given to the Orang Asli community is much better compared to the Malays. Schooling is free, even up to university level, free lunch and breakfast at school and school bus is also free. That’s good; in fact, the program should be extended to all low income families, especially those in rural areas and pockets of poverty in some cities. When I was in primary school in 1976, the school gives breakfast of nasi lemak with fried ikan bilis to select number of children, those who are too skinny and show signs of malnutrition. True that nowadays the problem is opposite, we have obese children in school. Then we should have a program teaching children balanced food and nutrition, ie more fruit and vegetables and less sugar and trans fat.

I was also told that Orang Asli has no concept of fridge at home and they will take only what they need, no more. If the man has a family of five, and the river has a lot of fish, he will only take five fish, enough to feed his family that day, no more. If you ask him why don’t he take more for tomorrow and the day after, he would say that he can take more tomorrow.
I like that, just take what you need, don’t be greedy. Leave some for the next generation. Isnt that what we are supposed to do? Just take what we need, no more, leave some for the next generation.

Story from My Mother IIX: Harimau

Story from My Mother IIX: Harimau

Last night I went to Sg Haji Dorani with Tahiron. He was picking up his Kancil car, being repainted at body workshop over there. In the car, I suggested to Tahiron, “Why don’t we tell scary stories, to scare the kids eh?”
I started by telling the story that Husin told my mother he saw a tiger at the entrance of my parent’ house and at the front porch.
“Kau tahu tak si Husin tu sebenarnya penakut tau, laki bini.” He said.
“Satu masa tu, ada burung jampuk ber bunyi kat belakang rumah, dia kata hantu pocong” he continued. He said that night he was at Dewan Orangramai, involved in a some party work. He got a call from Husin, saying there was a strange sound at the back of Tahiron’s house. Tahiron came back home, and when the bird made another sound Husin rang Tahiron. (They live a stone throw away from each other)
“Oh itu bunyi yang kau takutkan, itu bunyi burung jampuk lah” Tahiron said.
“Aku boleh keluar halau burung tu” so he went out and shooed the bird away.

Then he told me another story, happened circa 1970. He was still young boy back then, learning to read Quran, mengaji, at Pak Kiyai Abdul Gafur’s surau. He didn’t have torchlight back then, using andang instead, made of dried coconut leaves tied together, so that it would burn slowly, and would light up the way home.
On the way home, at the bend, where the kekabu tree and rubber tree was, Tahiron saw a cattle, red in colour. So when he got back home, he told his brother, Mat Isa. Then Mat Isa called my father, and they equipped themselves with parang (machete) and a length of rope to catch the cattle. My father went first, with his rope and parang, the ideas was probably to catch the cattle and put the rope on the cattle’s neck, and then call on the others to help pull the cattle.
But instead my father ran back very fast, and short of breath, without his parang or rope.
“Apahal, pakcik?” asked Tahiron.
“Harimau!” said my father.
The next morning they checked the site, the footprint and some tiger fur was still there.

Then he told me another story about an old woman in the village, who was related to him by marriage, Mbah Tri. Mbah Tri had a difficult death, it took weeks, most of the time there was croaking sound coming out from her throat. As if the Malaikat Maut trying to pull her life from her throat, but something holding back. Kiyai Haji Abdul Gafur taught Tahiron that if someone practised an ilmu salah, like keeping saka or djinn, he/she would have difficult death, and if you hold on his/her toe with your hand, he/she would stare at you. Tahiron did that, and sure enough Mbah Tri stared at him. So Tahiron went to see Kiyai Marwan (now arwah) in Sabak Bernam asking for help. He was given a bottle of water by Kiyai Marwan (for the dying woman to drink) and told to open one of the zinc roof sections above the dying woman so that it’s open to the sky above. Sure enough the next night (or was it day?) Mbah Tri died.
That night when Tahiron came home, he heard tigers mengaum all night around his house.

My mother confirmed the story; she also added that when Mbah Tri was dying, her daughters took turn to take care of her. Mbok Patonah (now arwah), one of her daughters related to my mother that every night there were always big snakes coming in to the house. Mbok Patonah was afraid to sleep on the floor, she slept on the bed. She wasn’t sure if that was real snake or whatever. When she asked Mbah Tri, she dismissed it lightly, “Biarlah ular to saja nak merayau”
What Mbah Tri had was a stone the size of teacup, wrapped in cotton cloth, the type that people used for kain kafan. What is in the stone, nobody knows. After Mbah Tri died, the stone was taken by one of her daughters, Mbok Minah, who got sick and also died. In fact, three of Mbah Tri’s children died not long after her, Pak Mat Dhoho, Mbok Minah and Mbok Sikat. Mbok Sikat had sickness after sickness and at some stage she would just stare at the sky for ages. In the end, one of Mbah Tri’s children, Pak Sidek, took the stone and threw it away to the sea.
Then my mother said that there is a possibility that the stone was taken from Mecca, Tanah Haram. She told me that in Mecca, there is a stone pillar called Tiang Ungu. If you wrap your hand around it while facing away from Mecca and snuggle on it, you will get rich when you get back to your homeland, because you would bring back Toyol.
My mother told me that it’s forbidden to bring anything back from Mecca, small stones, mugs and plates that’s being used to serve the hajjis there, or even rubbish. All those small stones and sands that is stuck to your shoes has to be picked off and/or washed away, or simply leave your shoes behind.
But if you buy things there and bring it home, that’s okay.

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

pictures from Cameron

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

My mother has never been to Cameron Highlands, neither did I. I searched Google Map the day before, there are two ways to get there, either through Teluk Intan and then Tapah or through Jalan Raja Musa, Jalan Sungai Tengi and then take the PLUS North South Highway to Tapah. My brother advised me to take the latter.
That Friday morning 9th Jan we started off at 7am. We went straight due east using Jalan Raja Musa, passing palm oil estates along the way. Then to Jalan Sungai Tengi and eventually we found the road linking to North South Highway, straight to Tapah, stopping at Tapah for toilet.

The road up the hill was narrow, but I managed to negotiate the bends and curves fairly well, except at one place near Kuala Woh. There were a few orang asli kids and their parents by the roadside waiting for school bus. I was looking at them as well as the road. Unfortunately the bend was 270 degrees; I was overshooting a wee bit because of my speed. That orang asli village at Kuala Woh would look good on picture, rustic and traditional, no power, no phone, with bamboo walls and attap roofs. Stalls dotted the roadside, but no one selling anything much in the morning. If you pass the road in the afternoon, you would see them selling forest products like petai, pokok ayam (medicinal plant that looks like a cockerel), durian (in season), rebung (bamboo shoot) as well as jungle orchids.
We passed Ringlet and saw the signboard for Boh Plantation near stalls selling vegetables and flowers, and went up the one lane road up to the entrance to the tea plantation.

Tanah Rata is the biggest town where the Govt offices are, as well as the main hotels, but we just drove pass to Brinchang 5km further. Kholid and Saripah lives at JKR quarters Sg Burung up the valley. Daytime temp is normally 20-25degrees.

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

Kita Bertemu Di Cameron; Lets Meet in Cameron

My mother has never been to Cameron Highlands, neither did I. I searched Google Map the day before, there are two ways to get there, either through Teluk Intan and then Tapah or through Jalan Raja Musa, Jalan Sungai Tengi and then take the PLUS North South Highway to Tapah. My brother advised me to take the latter.
That Friday morning 9th Jan we started off at 7am. We went straight due east using Jalan Raja Musa, passing palm oil estates along the way. Then to Jalan Sungai Tengi and eventually we found the road linking to North South Highway, straight to Tapah, stopping at Tapah for toilet.

Story from My Mother VII

my father's grave.
the last 2 pics were taken at Tiram Burok, a rice field ready for planting.

Story from My Mother VII

Today my mother asked me to take her to my father’s grave. Her first time. She said she wanted to ask permission from my father, because tomorrow morning we are going to Cameron Highlands to visit Kholid and Saripah, for two nights. My mother said that the first 40 nights when someone died, he/she would come back to his/her old dwelling every night. He/she is not used to the new permanent home in the grave, so he/she would come back every night. While at the grave, my mother kept reciting AlFatihah and Surah Ikhlas, and pray to Allah to make my father’s grave spacious and comfortable.
My mother doesn’t want to be away from home for too long. She also wants to live here in the house for the rest of her life, if she can. Before my father died, he asked my mother to follow my older brother. She did mention to me that she hoped that my older brother would send his second wife here to live with her. She said that instead of renting a house in Telok Panglima Garang, Banting, he would be better off letting his second wife live here.
Yesterday I also went to the grave. While I was walking out, I notice a woman on the motorbike kept staring at me. She was going north, staring at me, then turned around and kept staring at me. When I was at the car, she called for my name. Ah, it was Auntie Jamaliah. She is married to Uncle Mustakim, my father’s half brother. Auntie Jamaliah also mentions the same thing, that my older brother should leave his second wife here with my mother, and come home every week.

Yesterday, after dinner, my mother told me the story of the death of my cousin, Hj Sakuri Hj Rukimin, aka Kang Saring. Hj Sakuri was one year older than me, he was born in 1963. When he was young, he had problem with his heart, he had a hole in his heart (jantung berlubang). He came back to the village and work on his father’s rice field, after a few years living in Shah Alam and working for a chicken seller in Jeram, Selangor. At that time, his wife was working at a factory in Shah Alam. A month before he died, Hj Sakuri he bought three 10 kilo bags of rice for his parents. When asked by his mother, he answered, “Biar cukup untuk bulan puasa nanti mak”. Yet Ramadan was 3 months away.
Then he asked his mother accompany him to the market. He bought 3 kilos of red onions for his mother, with the same excuse, so that the supply would lasts. The night before he had fever, he told his wife that he wanted to stay overnight at his parents place, but his baby was crying, so he couldn’t go. So when the body arrived from Klang, it was taken straight to his parents place, Hj Rukimin. His wife reasoned that Hj Sakuri wanted to stay overnight at his parents place but couldn’t.
Then he had fever, dengue according to my brother. He was taken to Klang Hospital, where he died. That day my parents were planning to visit Kholid at Cameron Highland with my older brother. The car was ready to go, bananas, coconut and other foodstuff were on the boot. Uncle Supingat was riding his motorbike very fast and told my parent the sad news. My mother said that Hj Sakuri used to visit my parent at least once a month.
Then my mother told me that Ustadz Mashuri died in Sabah, where he taught some time ago. His second son also died as well, after the first son died as a teenager. The story was that a Sabah girl liked the son, but Ustadz Mashuri advised his son against the girl.
“Tak tahu lah kalau anak dan ayah tu mati kena santau. Orang Sabah dan Sarawak tu kan angker hampir semuanya”
“ Kalau jadi guru, masih bujang belum kahwin, kemudian disukai orang sana, tapi tak mahu kahwin orang sana, jadi susah. Sebab tu lah budak budak ni kalau ditugaskan ke sana tak mahu, mereka lebih rela menganggur tak jadi guru”
“Tapi kalau suka sama suka, boleh jadi senang dan kaya raya, sebab orang sana u semuanya tahu, buat bakul tahu, anyaman tahu, macam macam tahu”
“Rupanya kapalterbang tu kalau bawa orang mati, dia tak bawa penumpang lain ye, Cuma mayat itu dan ahli keluarganya saja”
It must be expensive, hiring a small plane to bring back the body, I concurred.
Now the late Ustadz Mashuri’s wife and daughters live at their old house, at Kampung Baroh.

Translation: angker (Javanese – menakutkan, scary) – in this term, the person cannot be crossed, or disagreed with, he/she will use black magic against his/her opponents.

Story from My Mother VI

Masjid Batu 6 Jalan Kuala Selangor - Tanjong Karang was built in 1920's by my late grandfather Daud Marhakim among others.The four tiang seri is made of wood.My grandfather was buried in the cemetery behind the mosque. Now they are building a new mosque across the road. The others are pictures of my mother at our land in Sg Yu. Langsuyar is a plant sometimes seen on other trees, in this case, on palm oil tree.

Story from My Mother VI

This morning after breakfast I told my mother that I have been to my father’s grave three times the past week. I also told her that from the first day with my youngest sister, I have been noticing a few large foot prints, about 9-10 inches long, about 4 or 5 of them, on my father’s grave. Looks like someone who wear shoes. Last Friday, the last time I was there, it was still noticeable. I do not think it belongs to local people; because local people would have smaller foot print, and the foot prints are about one inch deep.

“Siapa ya, kalau budak budak tu kan tapak kaki nya kecik kecik” my mother said. I nodded, agreeable.
“Tak tahulah kalau dia di kunjungi Nabi. Mak dulu masa kat Madinah (or is it in Mecca) nampak bekas tapak kaki Nabi, besar panjang ni. Di kurungkan cermin macam gelas terlangkup” my mother showed me the length with her two hands, about 9-10 inches.
I told my mother that I didn’t tell my youngest sister about the foot prints that I saw on the grave.
These past six years, my father’s routine has always been, reading Quran in the morning, after breakfast. Then about 10am, he would ask for rice to eat.
“Kalau khatam Quran tu tak tahu dah berapa kali, bila dah khatam dia ulang lagi.”
“Kadang tu mak minta dia ajarkan Ayat Qursi, itupun dah banyak kali baru mak boleh ingat” she continued.
“Apalah susah sangat nak belajar, kan itu senang saja” my father’s words as related my my mother.
“Aku ni dulu belajar sekolah agama baru darjah dua, dah dipinang, ya tak sempat nak banyak belajar”

My mother told me that they got married in 1953. My father’s close friend was Arwah Pakcik Pangat who used to live at the edge of the village bordering the sawah padi. My father used to ride a big bicycle (Chinese Hero Brand?), with no mudguard and no carrier at the back.
“Basikal gondol” my mother said.
He used to wear black pants and black shirt as well as black songkok. Like a crow, my mother said. He would laugh when reminded. Pak Pangat offered my mother a ride on his bicycle, to sit on the bike carrier at the back. “Tak mahu lah” my mother said.


The other day my mother showed me the exact spot where my father died. At the front of the bathroom, between the washing machine and the fridge. The story was that he had difficulty breathing in the bathroom, my mother and my older sister managed to pulled him the front of the bathroom. Outside the bathroom door. From there, my mother and my sister couldn’t pull him anywhere else.
“Sudahlah disini saja” my father told my mother.
Tahiron and 3 others have arrived. The four of them couldn’t move him either. Tahiron knows that my father was going to die; he noticed my father’s ears were droopy. He taught my father to say the word Allah, and my father followed, but so faint, cant hardly be heard.
“Your father is heavy you know, 4 adult men tried to move him, and we couldn’t” he said.
I disagreed, “He is only 40-50kg max”
“There is such thing as time and place you know. When your time has come, and at he right place, you will die. It has been written from azali” I continued. Tahiron look confused.
“Have you read or heard the story from the time of Solomon?”
“No. You mean Nabi Sulaiman?” he asked.
“Yes the same person” I said

So I told him that during the time of Solomon, one time they were having a majlis in one palace. One of Solomon’s friends, maybe one of his vizier notice a man kept staring at him. Wherever he went, the man kept following and staring at him. So he told Solomon, and Solomon also noticed the man. Solomon offered his friend to send him to a far away place, far from the palace. So Solomons summons one of his subjects from the djinn to take his friend to another place. To cut the story short, the man who stared at Solomons vizier was Malaikat Maut, he was going to take the vizier’s life. But the place he was supposed to take the vizier’s life was not at the palace, but at the faraway place where Solomon send the vizier. That’s why the Malaikat Maut was staring at the vizier; he was supposed to take the vizier’s life, at that time, but not at that palace.
“So when you feel that my father was heavy and couldn’t me moved, that’s not because of his weight, but because Malaikat Maut was there holding my father down. He is much stronger than all of you, you know” I explained.