The Fall of Our Mosque
By; A A Nafis Looking at this neglected mosque reminds me of “kakek”, an old man who once stayed and took care of it. He was an unemployment. He fed himself from the alms he gathered every Friday. He also got ¼ of goldfish harvest twice a year and once in a year people gave him obligatory alms or we called it Zakat Fitrah. Well as a Garin (that’s what we call it) he wasn’t very popular. He was known as the knife grinder because he was an expert. People usually gave him chili sauce (sambal), cigarettes or money for grinding their knives but he never ask for anything. Moreoften, he got smile and thank you. I still remember that day, when I visited him. He was sitting at the corner holding his feet and resting his head on his knees. He looked so sad even he didn’t answer my greeting, something he’d never done before. “Whose knife is this kakek?” “Ajo Sidi’s.” “Ajo Sidi’s?” He was silent. For a moment I thought about Ajo Sidi. He was an unusual story teller. He always told a s