Mbah & Atok go to… tour of Java - Day 3

Mbah & Atok go to… tour of Java — Day 3: Semarang - Cirebon

Monday 15 July 2024

Travel must go on. Goodbye, Semarang. You've given us some very good memories, especially that little blast from the past in the antique market. InsyaAllah, we may yet be back. There’s at least one more place I’d like to visit if the opportunity comes knocking. Thank you for the sweet, memorable time you gave us. Nganti ketemu maneh, matur suwun.

And so we continued on the Intercity to Cirebon, another major city along KAI’s track. As on the first day of travel, work must be kept updated. It can be stressful, especially when deadlines act like a noose around your neck, ever threatening to choke you to death.

Better seats for working, and sleeping

Gratefully, the train today was an upgrade from the previous rigid-upright-with-cramped-legroom seat style. Working in transit was a better proposition. So the better half plodded on for the next three hours while I productively slept most of the way through. As I learned in the military, never miss a chance to eat or sleep while you can.

Cirebon. A city that was never on our radar before. This overnight stop was chosen since it was about halfway to Jakarta. Otherwise, it would be another long day on the train. But more significantly, this city is a popular religious travel destination for local Muslims. It was home to one of the nine Wali Songo.

The ‘Wali Songo’ (also transcribed as ‘Wali Sanga’, English: Nine Saints) are revered saints of Islam in Indonesia, especially on the island of Java, because of their historic role in the spread of Islam in Indonesia. (Wikipedia)

As a Muslim of Javanese descent who grew up in 1970’s Malaysia, you cannot escape from hearing stories of Wali Songo’s greatness. I heard some of them from Atok, my grandfather who migrated from Central Java, hence curiosity got the better of me in deciding on a night stop in Cirebon.

A 20-minute Gojek car ride dropped us right outside the main gate of Masjid Agung Sang Cipta Rasa. The Zohor, or mid-day congregational prayer, had just ended. We performed our prayer, then just sat there soaking in the atmosphere.

Sang Cipta Rasa is said to be the oldest mosque in Central Java

It was rustic, cool, and serene. A soft breeze whispered its way through the wall-less outer prayer hall. I wonder what tales the huge timber pillars and the weather-beaten roof silently kept. They must have borne witness to some pretty amazing sights and stories in their five centuries of existence.

Then, we made our way into the inner sanctum of the mosque. A double-leaf, normal-sized wooden door in front was locked shut. Instead, a small hole in the side wall that let just enough of a small and thin person through was the only way in and out. The hole must have been no more than five feet high and two feet wide. Ducking my head and holding my breath, I prayed that none of the Wali Songo had put a curse that would plug me to this wall forever.

Deep breath, duck and tuck

You can tell from the outside that this mosque was old. Really old. But the ancientness of the engineering and materials were more prominently evident once you stepped inside. I guess the inner part was the original 544 year old mosque, with the outer prayer hall being a later addition. I was just guessing since there was no signage to read nor anyone to ask. 

This lack of common information (which I think could easily be remedied through technology or scheduled guides) is sadly a regular occurrence in Indonesia. Especially when there are a lot of legends related to this mosque, such as apparently it was built in one night. And why until today the call to Friday prayer is conducted by seven muazin concurrently. Interesting stories indeed. 

“Harimau mati meninggalkan belang, manusia mati meninggalkan nama” (A dead tiger leaves a mark, a dead man leaves a name)

If anything that could blemish the originality of the building, it was the modern addition of steel poles around the timber pillars, presumably to help strengthen the old structure. I wished a less obtrusive method had been employed, but I’m no civil engineer. Nonetheless, we were still awed at what had been accomplished hundreds of years ago. Quietly we sat there, marvelling at our forefathers’ achievement. 

However, we could not savour this solitude for too long as the real world of sabbatical leave beckoned. Actually it should never be called a leave at all. Research and writing demands regular attention and focus lest you get too far behind. Anyone thought we live a constant life of exciting adventures and travels would get a glimpse of our reality tomorrow.