Kunming Muslims' vibrant community
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
MARCO POLO, while visiting in 1270 CE, noted Kunming's cosmopolitan character, "in it are found merchants and artisans, with a mixed population consisting of idol-worshippers, Nestorian Christians and Mohametans".
Over 800 years later, the "Mohametans" are still in this provincial capital of China's Yunnan Province, concentrated mostly in or near the city's ancient Muslim quarter.
Prior to my visit, this Muslim area was purportedly the last city-centre Muslim quarter that is left in Yunnan province. Sadly, this is soon to be lost too in the name of development, prosperity and better amenities. In fact, its is not the only victim. The Old Quarter of Kunming, located just to north of the Muslim Quarter, and the interesting Market area, to its East, are also being cleaned up for the same reason.
Gone already were the city's elegant, richly-decorated old wooden houses and shops, complete with balconies and shutters, quaint alleyways and Chinese gardens. Gone also were the century-old Yunnanese lifestyle and tradition, forever irrecoverable. The rate of demolition is so rapid and disheartening that one author wrote sneeringly, "It is possibly true to say that any nation that is passionate about putting up new buildings is equally passionate about pulling old ones down".
There is one compensation though, secluded and protected by high walls, in the Islamic quarter. I stumbled upon it one night while trying out a new route on the way back from the bus station to our hotel. My friends and I had turned into a very small and dark alleyway which opened up into a lighted courtyard. At first we took it as just another temple entrance. But I remembered having seen the signboard elsewhere and decided to approach the decidedly familiar, heavily decorated columns and archway, making out a board written in Arabic in a characteristically Chinese style. "It is definitely a mosque," I declared to my friend excitedly.
We returned to the mosque on Friday several days later. The courtyard we had discovered the other night was bustling with traders and food vendors selling delightful Chinese delicacies including the famous mooncakes — it was very nearly Autumn Festival.
The good thing was everything was cheap and halal. Mooncakes, for example, were sold in tiny packages or nice gift boxes that come complete with halal stamp and logo from the local Muslim authority. A piece of cake eaten with a peaceful mind!
We passed through the archway to be greeted by yet another courtyard crowded with people, ladies and gentlemen waiting for the Jumuah prayer to commence. There was still an hour's wait before it started, so people were milling around, chatting with friends, reading newspapers — in short, taking their own sweet time.
We climbed the steps leading to the prayer hall and soon struck a conversation with a religious teacher named Ustadh Ahmad. Every learned Chinese we have met were bilingual. They could speak Arabic with astonishing fluency, considering that most were religiously educated on home ground. Travel restrictions, which only relaxed with the recent opening of China to foreign investment, meant that they had had little contact with the outside Muslim world. That, and the banning on religious expression especially during the Cultural Revolution for all of its ten years, should have been sufficiently detrimental to the community. But this is not the case.
In another very characteristically Chinese way, the Chinese Muslims were resilient to the challenges of their times and have retained little animosity toward the perpetrators. The blame only goes to those higher up, the Gang of Four, and the underlings were always deemed innocent so there has been little retribution beyond some loud clucking.
The community prepared themselves for prayer in an organised way. As we entered the prayer hall proper of the mosque, there was a large, well-arranged congregation reading Quran occupying the space immediately after the door and the middle area of the mosque. Ustadh Ali told us that the young, turbaned ones were students from nearby tahfiz, a Quran Academy. The group was led by an old, bearded Imam who sat leaning against a wall between doorways facing the direction of Mekah.
Soon it was time for bayan, the pre-prayer lesson during which another elderly read out a speech to the congregation. Muslims in China are generally Sunnis of the Hanafi school of jurisprudence and it is common for them to have a longer bayan than the actual khutbah, as the latter must be given only in Arabic. The khutbah was given by yet another, middle-aged Imam who then led us in prayer. Nothing is different from the experience of praying in any other mosque except the language used for bayan was Mandarin. Throughout the whole pocedure, the ladies sat outside, on benches along the courtyard periphery.
After the prayer finished, we thought it was over. But there was a surprise waiting.
The Imam led us through another prayer, the janazah prayer for the dead. The congregation flowed out of the mosque and lined up along the corridor, the steps and then the courtyard. The coffin was brought out, and the Imam who gave the khutbah gave another speech. Then he called one of the students to bring around a linen sack tied up at the mouth. I did not know that I was to witness a very graceful ceremony.
The student handled the sack in a very respectful way as he handed over the sack. This the Imam received with a show of respect too. He recited a short prayer over the sack and handed it back to the students, who took one step backward and walked to the person to the right of the Imam. The cycle repeated itself, from one person to another, each receiving and returning the sack, supplicating and reciting prayers, stepping and walking, until almost every person present had been given the opportunity to honour the deceased and his family.
I was very curious as to the sack's contents and was told it normally contains small gift items. When the ceremony ends, the sack will be opened and the items will be distributed as gifts to people. "Wow," I thought, "what a brilliant idea to give out gifts that have received a communal blessing"! That was what it is, literally.
Ustadh Ahmad told me that the mosque was at least three hundred years old and its name, Suncheng was after the nearest road. I discovered that Suncheng means "the best strategy". When I recall the sackful of gifts at the mosque funeral procession, my jaw still drops. It was not a simple, run-of-the-mill funeral procession. I might have witnessed a few hundred year-old "best strategy"!
The Brunei Times
Over 800 years later, the "Mohametans" are still in this provincial capital of China's Yunnan Province, concentrated mostly in or near the city's ancient Muslim quarter.
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Muslim China: The Sungchenjie Mosque courtyard in Kunming, Yunnan Province, with its native architecture, thriving Quran study and flawless Arabic speakers, an organically developed Muslim community. On Friday, food stalls sold halal mooncakes and other Chinese sweets after a funeral prayer while ladies rested outside the mosque. Pictures: Mohd Affendi Bin Mohd Shafri |
Prior to my visit, this Muslim area was purportedly the last city-centre Muslim quarter that is left in Yunnan province. Sadly, this is soon to be lost too in the name of development, prosperity and better amenities. In fact, its is not the only victim. The Old Quarter of Kunming, located just to north of the Muslim Quarter, and the interesting Market area, to its East, are also being cleaned up for the same reason.
Gone already were the city's elegant, richly-decorated old wooden houses and shops, complete with balconies and shutters, quaint alleyways and Chinese gardens. Gone also were the century-old Yunnanese lifestyle and tradition, forever irrecoverable. The rate of demolition is so rapid and disheartening that one author wrote sneeringly, "It is possibly true to say that any nation that is passionate about putting up new buildings is equally passionate about pulling old ones down".
There is one compensation though, secluded and protected by high walls, in the Islamic quarter. I stumbled upon it one night while trying out a new route on the way back from the bus station to our hotel. My friends and I had turned into a very small and dark alleyway which opened up into a lighted courtyard. At first we took it as just another temple entrance. But I remembered having seen the signboard elsewhere and decided to approach the decidedly familiar, heavily decorated columns and archway, making out a board written in Arabic in a characteristically Chinese style. "It is definitely a mosque," I declared to my friend excitedly.
We returned to the mosque on Friday several days later. The courtyard we had discovered the other night was bustling with traders and food vendors selling delightful Chinese delicacies including the famous mooncakes — it was very nearly Autumn Festival.
The good thing was everything was cheap and halal. Mooncakes, for example, were sold in tiny packages or nice gift boxes that come complete with halal stamp and logo from the local Muslim authority. A piece of cake eaten with a peaceful mind!
We passed through the archway to be greeted by yet another courtyard crowded with people, ladies and gentlemen waiting for the Jumuah prayer to commence. There was still an hour's wait before it started, so people were milling around, chatting with friends, reading newspapers — in short, taking their own sweet time.
We climbed the steps leading to the prayer hall and soon struck a conversation with a religious teacher named Ustadh Ahmad. Every learned Chinese we have met were bilingual. They could speak Arabic with astonishing fluency, considering that most were religiously educated on home ground. Travel restrictions, which only relaxed with the recent opening of China to foreign investment, meant that they had had little contact with the outside Muslim world. That, and the banning on religious expression especially during the Cultural Revolution for all of its ten years, should have been sufficiently detrimental to the community. But this is not the case.
In another very characteristically Chinese way, the Chinese Muslims were resilient to the challenges of their times and have retained little animosity toward the perpetrators. The blame only goes to those higher up, the Gang of Four, and the underlings were always deemed innocent so there has been little retribution beyond some loud clucking.
The community prepared themselves for prayer in an organised way. As we entered the prayer hall proper of the mosque, there was a large, well-arranged congregation reading Quran occupying the space immediately after the door and the middle area of the mosque. Ustadh Ali told us that the young, turbaned ones were students from nearby tahfiz, a Quran Academy. The group was led by an old, bearded Imam who sat leaning against a wall between doorways facing the direction of Mekah.
Soon it was time for bayan, the pre-prayer lesson during which another elderly read out a speech to the congregation. Muslims in China are generally Sunnis of the Hanafi school of jurisprudence and it is common for them to have a longer bayan than the actual khutbah, as the latter must be given only in Arabic. The khutbah was given by yet another, middle-aged Imam who then led us in prayer. Nothing is different from the experience of praying in any other mosque except the language used for bayan was Mandarin. Throughout the whole pocedure, the ladies sat outside, on benches along the courtyard periphery.
After the prayer finished, we thought it was over. But there was a surprise waiting.
The Imam led us through another prayer, the janazah prayer for the dead. The congregation flowed out of the mosque and lined up along the corridor, the steps and then the courtyard. The coffin was brought out, and the Imam who gave the khutbah gave another speech. Then he called one of the students to bring around a linen sack tied up at the mouth. I did not know that I was to witness a very graceful ceremony.
The student handled the sack in a very respectful way as he handed over the sack. This the Imam received with a show of respect too. He recited a short prayer over the sack and handed it back to the students, who took one step backward and walked to the person to the right of the Imam. The cycle repeated itself, from one person to another, each receiving and returning the sack, supplicating and reciting prayers, stepping and walking, until almost every person present had been given the opportunity to honour the deceased and his family.
I was very curious as to the sack's contents and was told it normally contains small gift items. When the ceremony ends, the sack will be opened and the items will be distributed as gifts to people. "Wow," I thought, "what a brilliant idea to give out gifts that have received a communal blessing"! That was what it is, literally.
Ustadh Ahmad told me that the mosque was at least three hundred years old and its name, Suncheng was after the nearest road. I discovered that Suncheng means "the best strategy". When I recall the sackful of gifts at the mosque funeral procession, my jaw still drops. It was not a simple, run-of-the-mill funeral procession. I might have witnessed a few hundred year-old "best strategy"!
The Brunei Times
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