Adapting Koran to current realities

Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

For a 34 year-old, Muslim preacher-cum-gender activist Siti Ruqoyyah Ma'shum has been through more than most women her age in the marital department.
Growing up and living in the strict Islamic boarding school surroundings of the small, poor regency of Bondowoso, East Java, Ruqoyyah was forced to marry a son of her father's cleric colleague when she was barely 15 years old.
Arranged since she was a toddler, the marriage, however, ended in divorce as her husband and his family could not accept the fact that Ruqoyyah was as a better and more popular preacher than her ex-husband, she said.
She moved on to husband No 2. A well-educated politician and seemingly pious, he turned out to be an abusive partner who also practiced polygamy. The second marriage also ended, but not after Ruqoyyah said was a long, agonizing and discriminatory process in the religious court.
For many women it is often through these bitter, first-hand experiences that they realize the continuing discrimination practiced against their sex. The difference with Ruqoyyah, however, was she wanted to make sure other women around her would not have to go through the same fate.
Ruqoyyah uses regular Islamic gatherings not only as the venue to spread Islamic teachings but also as an opportunity to campaign for gender equality and equity.
"I regularly teach all-woman congregations, from children to the elderly. Apart from preaching, I also make myself available to them for consultations on anything, from religious issues to marital problems. This is where I familiarize gender issues to them," said the softly spoken activist.
Islamic boarding schools are places where the patriarchal culture is deeply entrenched, but Ruqoyyah benefits from her position as a respected figure, given her experience in preaching.
"It's a matter of a good approach. We can't just use sophisticated gender terms -- we need to explain the substance. We must not confront (the ulema), but instead be very well-mannered, and respectful -- especially to the elderly clerics," she said.
Ruqoyyah's approach has won the heart of many male clerics and she is often invited to preach to all-male congregations as well. Despite a strongly chauvinistic culture, with polygamy practiced widely, many ulema were not resistant to her progressive ideas, she said.
However, other ulema had challenged her by attacking her campaigning when they shared podiums, attempting to discredit her and her ideas.
"I usually come to them, asking them not to attack me in public, because that means deceiving people. There is a change, somehow. At least some preachers don't use sexist humor that much anymore," she said.
Ruqoyyah first rose to prominence as a preacher in 1989 as her then father-in-law saw her potential and nurtured her, teaching her public speaking and sometimes asking her to be his substitute.
"My late father was well educated; he graduated from Al Azhar University, Cairo. But he still bowed to the patriarchal culture in the boarding school," said the mother of a teenage son.
Her father-in-law's attention, however, sparked her first husband's and relatives' jealousy, who said it was unethical for a woman to outshine her husband.
Other challenges also came from women who, being mistresses or other wives, condemned Ruqoyyah's progressive ideas.
"I let them be. I just let women know their own rights and the consequences of their choices. I don't teach women to be harsh to their husbands, or ask second wives for a divorce.
"On the other hand, if women accept polygamy, I always tell them not to whine or speak ill of their husbands but accept their situation," she said.
Ruqoyyah fought back against her second husband who, she said, frequently beat her, did not give her financial support, sexually assaulted her and eventually married another woman while he was still married to Ruqoyyah.
Only then did Ruqoyyah realize how insensitive and sexist the legal system was here to a woman filing for divorce. The process was lengthy, the judges and lawyers smirked at her, and when the process was finally completed after three years, there was no alimony -- the foregone conclusion when a woman files for divorce.
"That's why many women who are financially dependent on their husbands never file for a divorce, no matter what. There are many weaknesses in our legal system with regard to women ... But I wanted to at least show (people) that nobody is above the law and no one can treat women unjustly," Ruqoyyah said.
Single now, she is actively involved in several organizations, including Puan Amal Hayati and the Wahid Institute, which are affiliated with Nahdhatul Ulama (NU), the largest Muslim organization in the country, as well as women's organizations such as Rahima.
The frequent training and workshops provided by these organizations have made her articulate in conveying her ideas about the issues of contemporary Islam. She also hosts a regular radio program on Islam and gender, travels around the country and has also been to the United States for an interfaith dialog.
Her hometown, the poor Prajekan village in Bondowoso, however, is where her heart is.
Asked about the toughest case she had ever been involved in there, Ruqoyyah said it was when a grandfather raped his granddaughter and the fifth-grader became pregnant.
The girl's family came to Ruqoyyah for help as there was no institution helping to empower women in the town.
Ruqoyyah advised the family to allow the girl to abort the child, although local ulema condemned this as haram (unlawful and sinful).
"Sometimes local figures are insensitive and follow the (religious) texts too strictly. But this girl was so young, she had a long journey ahead of her. We couldn't marry her to the father, either, as it was her grandfather, and besides, the pregnancy was only one month old," she said.
A clinic they went to objected the abortion at first, but then agreed to do it free of charge, as the family was poor.
The girl is still at school and is a regular member of religious gatherings led by Ruqoyyah.
The grandfather still lives in the area, although he has been ostracized by the local community.
"People need us to provide solutions. In a case like that, we cannot preach. I often tell my congregation that religious texts cannot be changed, particularly the Koran. But the interpretation can and must be adapted to current realities," she said.
Her sincere wish is to return to her school, delayed because of her forced marriage.
"I always tell my son when he's lazy to go to school, look at ummi (mom); I'm old but I'm eager to go back to school," she said, laughing.

Labels: Islam, profile, women's right

Posted by hera at 12:53 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Home is where the hurt is for Daw San San

Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

It is not unusual for House of Representatives legislators to hold hearings late into the night, especially when high-profile cases are involved.
On one particular evening recently, however, only four of 50-something legislators from House Commission I on defense, foreign and information affairs, showed up for the hearing.
The rest failed to have the courtesy to welcome two Myanmarese prodemocracy activists, Daw San San and Khin Ohmar, who came all the way from their place of exile in Mae Sot, Thailand, to meet the legislators.
It would not have been so pathetic had San San been in her late 30s, like Ohmar. However, San San is 73 years old: Clad in blouse and sarong, she looked like an abandoned grandmother in a room full of empty chairs.
But rarely is any grandmother as relentless as San San, a long-time prodemocracy advocate who has visited many countries to seek support in the struggle against the military junta or to receive awards on behalf of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi.
San San demanded Indonesia and other countries oppose Myanmar's turn next year to hold the chairmanship of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), as it will tarnish the countries' credibility.
"I know, some of you may be thinking that, at my age, I should be at home, enjoying life with my family. I wish for that too, but unfortunately, what is happening in my country does not permit that luxury," San San told the legislators.
In an interview with The Jakarta Post a few days later, she said the situation in Myanmar was deteriorating, both democratically and economically.
"There are problems of drug trafficking and terrorism. Activists are being harassed and arrested. As the largest democratic country in the region, I asked Indonesia to lend a helping hand," San San said in simple English, in tones stripped of emotion.
A former marine biologist, San San's active involvement in politics was heightened during the People's Uprising against the junta in 1988. Back then, she was a deputy director in the labor department.
"I was elected as president of the labor union. But then I was forced to resign," she said.
In the 1990 general elections, at which the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Nobel laureate Suu Kyi won 81 percent of the seats, San San became an elected member of parliament.
The parliament, however, was not convened. Instead, the military started harassing elected members, forcing them to resign, arrested many others and declared many political parties illegal.
San San was among those arrested, but was given some sort of amnesty by the Home Affairs Ministry; she was released in 1992.
"They issued a statement, saying that I was not a danger to the state," she said.
However, after she was elected as NLD vice president for Yangon division in 1997, the amnesty was withdrawn. She was arrested with other prominent NLD members after attempting to hold a meeting with Suu Kyi.
For at least the first three months of her 25-year sentence, she was held in prison without access to her family, doctors or a lawyer.
Reports described her cell as having a very low ceiling, with only a tiny window, and prisoners sleeping on bamboo mats on the ground. The toilet was a muddy bowl in the center of the room and was emptied only once a day. The women were often forced to sit cross-legged on the ground with their heads bowed.
San San drew a picture of the prison as a place where rats were rife.
"It was a brick building, but my room was wooden, not made of brick and concrete, so rats could come and go. I then asked for a cat. But it was so small, it was afraid of the rats. So, I often caught them myself," she said, laughing.
As an elderly woman, she managed to escape physical torture, but things were different for male activists.
"They would cut their work and sources of earning money so that they would not be able to support their families. They would also be beaten mercilessly, or be put into some sort of well full of human excrement. That's why there are many women activists in Burma -- it is much more difficult for men," said San San, whose husband, a civil servant, died in 1994.
In 2001, already 69 years old, San San was released due to her failing health. She was suffering from hepatitis.
However, she was warned by the authorities that if she were to get involved in politics again, she would have to settle the prison debt.
"Of course I didn't listen to them. I tried to continue working because I felt the mandate of the people was more important," she said.
In 2003, after the Depayin massacre, in which many people were killed and many others, including Suu Kyi, were arrested, San San decided to flee to Mae Sot, Thailand.
"I dressed like an old man. I told the border security officials that I wasn't feeling well and couldn't leave my car at the checkpoint," said San San.
In Mae Sot, she lived with fellow activists, with financial support coming from the United States and Australia. The latter granted her political asylum and provides her with a travel document similar to a passport.
Asked if she had been afraid at all, San San said she was sometimes afraid that members of her family might suffer and be arrested. That was why she never contacted her five children and six grandchildren.
"My family did not know I fled. I never make contact with them because the authorities always tap my telephone. Even some of my relatives are agents," said San San.
She did not wish her children to become activists, saying that one activist was enough in her family.
"My eldest sister used to be involved in politics. She was not forced to resign, but after 20 years to 25 years working as civil servant, she is still a low-ranking official," San San said.
Her strong facade, however, crumbled a little as she recalled her family.
"I try to forget.. but sometimes in the afternoon, as the sun is setting ... I miss my grandchildren," she said, looking into the distance.
Asked again if she was exhausted by the struggle, San San only laughed. Clearly, regardless of her state of health or exile, she would not cease to strive for freedom in Myanmar.

Labels: Burma, profile

Posted by hera at 12:57 AM | Permalinks | Comments