Muslim Merit-making in Thailand's Far-South

Muslims in Global Societies Series Volume 4

Series Editors Gabriele Marranci National University of Singapore, Singapore Bryan S. Turner Wellesley College, Wellesley, USA

For further volumes: http://www.springer.com/series/7863

Christopher M. Joll

Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South

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Christopher M. Joll Muslim Studies Centre Institute of Asian Studies Phyathai Road, Patumwan Bangkok 10330 Thailand [email protected]

ISBN 978-94-007-2484-6 e-ISBN 978-94-007-2485-3 DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3 Springer Dordrecht Heidelberg London New York Library of Congress Control Number: 2011939218 © Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012 No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the Publisher, with the exception of any material supplied specifically for the purpose of being entered and executed on a computer system, for exclusive use by the purchaser of the work. Printed on acid-free paper Springer is part of Springer Science+Business Media (www.springer.com)

Acknowledgements

There are many people who have contributed—both directly and indirectly—to the writing this book. Between Waipukurau, Palmerston North, Songkhla, and Chiang mai/Kunming parents and in-laws exemplified support over 10 years of living and working in, and researching and writing about in Pattani. Asante sana to the Hulme-moir clan. Wish Helen was still around to see this book come out! Others in New Zealand deserving a word of thanks are Mick Duncan, Rob and Lois Bellingham, Ray and Paul Windsor, Blayne and Elizabeth, Ron Taylor, Tony Andrews, John Roxborogh, Chris Marshall, and Stephen Pattemore. Others friends living elsewhere that I wish to thank are Doug and Jill, Robert and Ruth, Greg, and Zomia addicts Kaaren and Jeph. Bruce and Dia Taylor’s house in the mountains of Chiangmai—one of the few places in Thailand where one can enjoy sitting by a roaring fire—both a place of welcome rest, and where I had some of my most productive writing retreats. Khoop khun khrap to the following significant people in South Thailand: For Dr Hasan Madmarn’s warm encouragement, Dr Worawit Baru’s ongoing interest, Dr Ruslan Uthai’s help on the Pattani Malay, and Dr Bordin Waelateh’s warm friendship; and Shukri Langputeh who lend me some of the standard works on Islam in Thailand, and introduced me to life-changing mind-mapping software. I also wish to extend a terima kasih to the following people at the National University of Malaysia (UKM). Professor Dr Mohamed Yusoff Ismail graciously took on a very accidental anthropologist. The former director of ATMA, Professor Datuk Dr. Shamsul Amri Baharuddin, was unceasingly welcoming and supportive— as was his successor Professor Dr Che Husna Azhari. While supervising my doctoral dissertation, Professor Che Wan Ahmad Zawawi bin Ibrahim, not only offered hospitality, and encouragement but succeeded in getting me to read less, write more, and to stop asking others to answer questions I should answer myself. Most of the work on this book was completed while a research fellow at the Muslim Studies Centre at Chulalongkorn University’s Institute of Asian Studies, in Bangkok. I wish to thank Muslim Studies Centre’s director, Dr Sarawut Aree, and the director of Institute of Asian Studies, Dr Sunait Chutintaranond. I completed this publication while at a visiting research fellow that the Religious

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Studies Department, School of Art History, Classics and Religious Studies, Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand. Thanks to Professor Paul Morris for his warm welcome. The following colleagues deserve a mention. In 2004, Alexander Horstmann suggested I consider studying at ATMA. A number of South Thailand specialists shared ideas, located articles, and loaned books to me. These include: Francis Bradley, Muhammad Arafat bin Muhammad, Matt Wheeler, Michael Jerryson, Stefan Ruholl, Patrick Jory, Joseph Liow, Saroja Dorarirajoo, Imtiyaz Yusuf, Chaiwat Satha-Anand, Duncan McCargo, and Marlane Guelden. Special thanks to fellow antipodean and Pattani-based anthropologist—and raconteur—Marc Askew for his good company and no nonsense comments on my ideas and methods. Studying Muslim merit-making in Cabetigo has only been possible through its residents being willing to tolerate a fly in their ointment. Special thanks to the families of Ased, Omar, and Abdul Khayum, and our landlord Ali Halabi. Terimo kasih dan maaf zahir batin! Although extensively reworked, this book is based on my doctoral dissertation (Joll 2009). I first articulated some of this monograph’s ideas and arguments in a range of conference papers, book chapters, and journal articles. Material related to the anthropology of Islam were presented in papers at “Voices of Islam in Europe and Southeast Asia”, in Nakhon Si Thammarat (January 19–22, 2006), “The International Conference on Southeast Asia”, University of Malay (December 12 2005), and in a chapter of Social Science and Knowledge in a Globalising World, a book edited by Wan Ahmad Zawawi bin Ibrahim and published by the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies in Singapore. Arguments about the “creole” characteristic of the earliest ambassadors in Patani were presented in a paper presented at “Phantasm in Southern Thailand: Historical Writings on Patani and the Islamic World”, held at Chulalongkorn University, December 11–12, 2009. As well as being published in this conference’s proceedings. Material on Muslim identifications and ethnicization will appear in a forthcoming publication New Directions in Islamic Studies in Southeast Asia: Voices of Young Southeast Asian Scholars, edited by Patrick Jory and Kamaruzzaman Bustamam-Ahmad. My comments relating to Salafism and the Tablighi Jama’at in South Thailand appeared in a paper presented at “An Anatomy of an Insurgency, 2004–2009”, a conference organized by Ian Storey at the Institute of Southeast Asia Studies in Singapore between March 10th and 11th, 2009. This was later published in a special edition of Contemporary Southeast Asia (32:2). There have been a number of people involved in the preparation of this manuscript. I wish to thank the editors of “Muslims in Global Societies” monograph series, Professors Gabriel Marranci and Bryan Turner who walked me through my first book. While I have appreciated the input of both, if straws were drawn been them, Gabriel appears to have drawn the shortest. I received prompt, positive and unceasingly patient replies to my many emails. His patience must have been tested as some of these were sent at times in the publication process that were personally and professionally particularly challenging, Thanks also to Anita Fei van der Linden and her team at Springer. I also wish to thank Jim McInnes and Dr Helen

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Greatrex who both read through and edited my entire manuscript at different times. Any inaccuracies or inconsistencies encountered by readers are, of course, entirely my responsibility. Sandra wins “long-suffering writing widow and solo mother” award as I wrote my way through the doctoral tunnel and preparation of this monograph. Although only rarely physically absent, I am under no illusions that Michaela and Nathan suspected that I was not always completely present—especially as I wrote under the stairs situated in the corner of our kitchen in Pattani. I have dedicated this book to David Matthew Joll, my oldest (and only) brother who died suddenly on July 10th 2005. His estate made it possible for me and my family to live and work in Pattani longer than most. My final thanks are offered to God. Pattani October 2010

Christopher M. Joll

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Contents

1 Introduction . . . . . . . . The Tham Bun Conundrum Other Views . . . . . . . . . Approach . . . . . . . . . . Fieldwork . . . . . . . . . . Limits, Structure and Style . References . . . . . . . . .

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2 Indic, Islamic and Thai Influences . . . . . . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sanskrit Cosmopolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Circulating Islam and Connected Creoles . . . . . . . . . Initial Adhesion and Adoption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Patani Post-1785: From Malay Kerajaan to Thai Province Assimilation Through Legislation Post-1945 . . . . . . . Revolution and Reform in the Hijaz . . . . . . . . . . . . Mecca’s Patani School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Resident Modernisers, Reformers and Revivalists . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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3 Religious, Ethnic and Linguistic Diversity Omar’s Roti Shop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Traditionalists, Reformists and Revivalists . . Plural and Porous Identifications . . . . . . . Factors Affecting Autonym Selection . . . . Modern Multi-lingualism . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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4 Thai and Malay Merit-Making Rhetoric Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Delineating Merit-Making . . . . . . . . . The Searches for Equivalence . . . . . . .

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Arabic Terms and Islamic Ideation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Potent Words and Sacred Duties . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Qur’an’s Multiple Rewards . . . . . . . The Qur’an and Personal Merit-Making Reading for the Dead . . . . . . . . . . Fardu Prayers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Worship Is Worth . . . . . . . . . Funeral Prayers and Fardu Khifayah . . Sunnat Prayers . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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6 Sedekoh and Meritorious Smorgasbords . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Forms of Sedekoh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sedekoh for the Dead and Living . . . . . . . . . . . . Variables Affecting the Amount of Merit . . . . . . . . The Merit-Generating Elements of Feasting Complexes . Funeral Feasts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mawlid Feasts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . House-Warming Feasts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . General Tham Bun Feasts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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7 Ramadan Scales and Meccan Multiplications . . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Performance of Ramadan and Its Multiple Rewards . . . Hari Rayo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Poso Sunnat and Rayo Ne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Haj: Prerequisites and Preparations . . . . . . . . . . . . Performance of the Haj and Mecca’s Multiplications of Merit Reasons for Repetitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Sunnat Lesser Pilgrimage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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8 Merit-Making Rationales and Motivations . . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Obligations to Allah and Preparations for Alam Al-Barzakh Obligations to the Deceased and Merit-Transference . . . . The Efficacy of Merit on Dunio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Muslim Economy of Merit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Thai Influences and Islamic Credentials Reconsidered . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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9 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Appendix: Transcription of Vernacular Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chapter 1

Introduction

Abstract This chapter introduces readers to the circumstances behind my arrival in the Malay community of Cabetigo. I relate how curiosity at what Thai-speaking Muslims mean by tham bun (Th. merit-making) led to my metamorphosis into an accidental anthropologist. Readers are also introduced to how other anthropologists have sought to explain references by Thai-speaking Muslims to merit-generation, and how past approaches to studying Muslim societies affected the conclusions reached. Details are also supplied about elements of the anthropology of Islam which has informed the conceptualisation of Muslim diversity, assessments of local adat (tradition), and the ethnographic significance of ‘ibadat, (Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire). Particulars about data collection and the issues encountered during the course of fieldwork are given before addressing the limits, structure and style of this study. This is a study of Muslim merit-making in one of Thailand’s Malay-dominated far-south provinces (Map 1.1). I lived and worked in Pattani between 2000 and 2010, apart from two six-month and one three-month interludes in New Zealand. My Thai-born wife and I had long planned to work in Thailand while our children were young. Her excellent Thai and my English teaching job in Pattani were not only our primary reasons for moving to Thailand, but they also greatly assisted our acceptance by most Cabetigo residents. During our first years in this community, Thai language study was my top priority, before beginning the more challenging task of learning the Pattani Malay dialect. Most of my language was acquired in local coffee/tea shops (PM. keda kopi, Th. raan naam cha).1 Throughout these first years we attended local weddings and funeral feasts whenever invited, and visited neighbours and students over the two Muslim festivals of Hari Rayo (Ar. Id Il-Fitri) and Hari Rayo Haji (Ar. Id al-Adha). While we sought to actively participate in all community activities, our level of involvement in the religious life of the community depended on what was being performed. Another factor was who was present. We soon discovered that there was often no consensus on what non-Muslims could participate in.

1 Throughout this study, I specify the language of all vernacular terms with the following abbreviations: Arabic (Ar.); PM. (Pattani Malay); Th. (Thai); Persian (Pr.); Indonesian (Id.); Standard Malay (SM.); Tamil (Tm.); Urdu (Ur.).

C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_1,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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Introduction

Map 1.1 Pattani province

The community of Cabetigo is located in Pattani town (Th. amphur muang) (see Maps 1.2 and 1.3), which is the capital of Pattani province (Th. jangwat). Cabetigo is one of oldest, largest and most important of Pattani’s Malay communities. It derives its name from the three-way intersection located at its heart. The northern boundary of Cabetigo is marked by the intersection of Cabangtiga Road and Yaring Road that borders Pattani’s main commercial district. The western perimeter of Cabetigo is formed by the Pattani river (Th. khlong, maenam Pattani, PM. Sunga Taning), with its eastern boundary marked by Yarang Road, along which traffic between Pattani and Yala travels. Its southern extremity is the northern border of a community referred to as Ta’lubut on Yarang Road. There are a number of important landmarks on Yarang Road. Pattani’s largest (although not its most important) mosque is the Central Mosque (Th. Masyid Klang, PM. Masyid Baru) (Fig. 1.1) which was constructed by the Thai government. It is located in front of the Pattani Provincial Islamic Council (SM. Majlih Agama Islam, PM. Majlih Ugamo Islam, Th. Khanat Kamakarn Islam). South of the Central Mosque along Yarang Road is Pattani’s largest Muslim cemetery, Kubor Tok Ayoh. Opposite it is the entrance of Masyid Rajo (SM. Masjid Raja) (Fig. 1.2). Constructed as it was by the rajo of Pattani in a traditional Malay style, this is the most important mosque in Cabetigo. Its Arabesque domes were only added when extensions were made 20 years ago. Following the destruction of

The Tham Bun Conundrum

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Map 1.2 Map of Cabetigo

Kruset, the Sultan of Patani constructed a palace (PM. koto) in Cabetigo which is encircled by an impressive three-metre high and two-feet thick brick wall. While Masyid Rajo, Kubor Tok Ayoh and Koto Rajo together represent Cabetigo’s symbolic core, other centres also exist. The official centre for the administration of Islam in the province is the aforementioned Islamic Council, and twice a week on market days (Th. wan nat) Cabetigo’s central three-way intersection becomes the centre of commerce. While Cabetigo’s mosques, prayer rooms and kubors are all important religious centres, its numerous tea shops, restaurants and food stalls function as social centres.

The Tham Bun Conundrum Between 2000 and 2004 I became intrigued at how frequently Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo referred to merit-making (Th. tham bun). Indeed, on the day we shifted into our house our landlady, Hassanah, asked whether we would be making merit (Th. ja tham bun mai). While inviting friends and neighbours to a feast we were holding to celebrate the safe arrival of our son Nathan in October

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Introduction

Map 1.3 Map of the Pattani municipality showing location of Cabangtiga/Cabetigo

2001, we discovered that many in Cabetigo referred to feasts as tham bun. After extending our invitation, we explained that we had delegated the acquisition of the two obligatory goats, preparation of the curry, and the hiring of all the crockery and cutlery to a Muslim friend. As non-Muslim hosts, clarity on such details was crucial, as no one would come if there were any fears that halal food would be served on uncontaminated plates. Almost every neighbour asked whether we were “making merit”. After denying that this was our intention, an answer that created more than a little confusion was that we wished to publicly give thanks to God for our son’s safe arrival. I once returned home to discover a plastic bag hanging on the handle of our grill doors. In it was some freshly made curry that had been sealed with a tightly wound rubber band. A neighbour explained that she had also received a bag, and that this had been left by neighbour who was making merit, so that the dream she had had the previous night would come true. At a friend’s house before my first Ramadan in Cabetigo, I enquired about the significance of the fast month. He replied by itemising the things he must abstain from and apply himself to. He concluded by saying that in the month of Ramadan

The Tham Bun Conundrum

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Fig. 1.1 Pattani’s Central Mosque

Fig. 1.2 Masyid Rajo

Muslims “have to make a lot of merit” (Th. raw tong tham bun hai maak). On the eve of Hari Rayo at the end of Ramadan, I overheard a Thai Buddhist ask a Muslim friend about how he would be making merit the next day. He was told that as well as paying zakat fitroh, Muslims made merit for ancestors at the kubor (PM graveyard). In a similar way, those curious about how I worshipped asked about how I made merit (Th. khun tham bun yang rai). On one occasion when it became apparent that it was not clear about what I had been asked, I was provided an answer template in slow, clear Thai: “Muslims pray at the mosque, and Buddhists go to the temple, but what do you do?”

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Introduction

While I became increasingly interested in studying some aspect of life in Cabetigo after living there for 4 years, my metamorphosis into an accidental anthropologist was primarily connected to my curiosity about this tham bun conundrum. The focus of this study is the merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents. Located as it is in a bilingual Muslim community, my treatment of merit-making rhetoric will delineate how Malay-speakers refer to merit (PM. pahalo) and merit-generation. This study is also concerned with how merit is generated through the performance of good deeds and religious rituals. These reveal that questions about what tham bun refers to and how merit is made are important, albeit for different reasons. Finally, the range of rationales that motivate the manufacture of this religious reward by Thai and Malay-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo are delineated.

Other Views Although this is the first substantive study of Muslim merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales in Thailand, other anthropologists have described aspects of this merit-making conundrum. The first to do so was Angela Burr, who studied the impact of the Thai cultural milieu on spirit beliefs and practices among Thaispeaking Muslims in Songkhla province (see 1972, 1974, 1984). Burr anticipated aspects of this present study by speculating on the degree to which Muslim communities in the Malay far-south are “Malay culturally and socially”, and the degree to which they are “Thai, both overtly and in terms of underlying forms” (1988, p. 55). According to Burr, tham bun illustrates how Islam in Songkhla had been both locally integrated into, and articulated in terms of, the dominant Buddhist cosmology (1974, p. 67). Like Thomas Fraser in his (now classic) ethnography of the Malay fishing village of Rusembilan on the outskirts of Pattani (1960), and many others who followed Robert Redfield (1956), Burr described village traditions as “little traditions” which were distinct from the “great tradition” of Islam (1974, p. 98). Burr also wrote in the wake of the hugely influential studies by Clifford Geertz (1960, 1968) and Ernest Gellner (1968, 1969). Not surprisingly, she asserted that Islam in Songkhla was a veneer (1974, pp. 74–76). Perhaps following Geertz, who in his study of Javanese Islam dedicated 75 pages to describing feasts, referred to as the slametan but covered normative piety in less than nine pages, only three pages of Burr’s doctoral dissertation was dedicated to Islam’s so-called “great” traditions (1988, pp. 84–87). Raymond Scupin describes Burr’s treatment of merit-making feasts as “structurally imaginative” (1978, p. 88): Muslims who gathered to chant at “prayer group feasts” for the dead, were “mock monks” (1974, p. 96). This explains why women—who might accidentally defile these monks—were absent from these merit-generating occasions (Burr, 1974, pp. 102–103). In his study of Muslim modernism in Bangkok (1978), Scupin considers the effect that the Thai milieu has had on both the rituals the Thai Muslims in Bangkok

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maintain (1978, p. 141) and the terminology that is employed to describe communal feasts.2 He speculates the Buddhist tham bun practices (through which stocks of merit are accrued) may have had an impact on Muslim practices (1978, pp. 145, 146, 149). Although critical of Burr’s analysis of prayer feasts, the variation of the meritmaking feasts that Scupin observed led him to propose that these were essentially structureless (1978, p. 141). Japanese anthropologist, Ryoko Nishii, has provided important insights into Muslim merit-making. Her studies are located in the Thai province of Satun where a high instance of intermarriage has meant that many Thai Buddhists convert to Islam. Nishii highlights the importance of making merit for the deceased. This occasionally leads Thai Buddhist families to steal the corpse of Muslim converts so as to be able to make merit for them (2002). Nishii also reveals that merit is capable of positively influencing those in this world. Thai anthropologist, Saihoo Patya, is the only scholar to have described Malay beliefs concerning religious merit (PM. pahalo) (1974). He recounts that Friday sermons frequently exhorted people to make merit in preparation for the life to come (1974, pp. 177–234). Extra prayers performed by the elderly were motivated by the desire to gain more merit (1974, p. 131). Acts of charity (PM. sedekoh) to the devout or learned were widely regarded as especially meritorious (1974, p. 184), and devout hajis fast an extra 6 days after Hari Raya “for extra merit” (1974, p. 149). Patya also mentions the practice of upah haj, or “posthumous pilgrimage by proxy of a hired service of someone at Mecca” (1974, p. 225). Patya argues that his Malay informants viewed their relation to Allah as defined in terms of merit (PM. pahalo) and sin (PM. doso) (1974, p. 227). Patya also describes a large range of religious feasts (1974, p. 194). These include funerals feasts, the reading of the talqin, and Surah Ya Sin to bless the spirit of the dead. Like Nishii, Patya’s informants insist that pahala positively influences luck in this life. With the noble exception of Patya, these perspectives on Muslim merit-making in Thailand were provided by anthropologists working with mono-lingual Thaispeaking Muslims. Although Patya commented on merit being generated through Islamic rituals, tham bun feasts dominated other descriptions of merit-making rituals. While rightly questioning Burr’s structurally imaginative proposals, Scupin concludes that tham bun feasts in Bangkok were structureless. He was furthermore non-committal about how the Thai milieu has affected both the nature of the rituals that Muslims maintained and how merit is understood to assist merit-makers. As well as being inattentive to normative practices, these studies appear to assume that tham bun rhetoric among Thai Muslims indicates that the rationales which motivate Muslims to generate merit are informed by Theravada Buddhism. While tham bun religious rhetoric has been extensively observed, it has been inadequately explained. 2

Scupin’s most important studies of Islam in Thailand include the following (1980a, 1980b, 1980c, 1982, 1986, 1987, 1988a, 1988b, 1998).

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Introduction

Approach Despite none of these studies having been conducted among bilingual Muslims, which permits Thai terms to be triangulated with Malay correlates, the conclusions reached were also impacted by the approach taken by these anthropologists to the ethnographic task. In recent decades, the academic legacy of Redfield, Geertz and Gellner on how anthropologists study Muslim societies has been extensively critiqued.3 My approach to Muslim merit-making is informed by a discourse concerned with the theoretical and methodological issues confronting anthropologists, commonly referred to as the anthropology of Islam. Important connections are discernable between the emergence of the anthropology of Islam and critiques of Geertz and Gellner. Robert Launay claims Geertz’s Islam Observed birthed the anthropology of Islam (1992, p. 1). This is perhaps a reference to one of the earliest citings of the term being found in Abdul Hamid el-Zein’s response to Geertz (1977). Similarly, Talal Asad (1983) offered his reflections on Geertz before articulating his own ideas on the anthropology of Islam 3 years later (1986). One of Daniel Varisco’s principal concerns in his Islam Obscured: The Rhetoric of Anthropological Representation was that there was a need for anthropologists to move beyond Geertz and Gellner (2005, pp. 21–80). Similarly Gabriel Marranci in his Anthropology of Islam provides a thorough critique of Geertz and Gellner (2008, pp. 31–46), those who followed them, and others who have articulated alternative approaches. A number of anthropologists explicitly refer to the anthropology of Islam4 ; others exemplify that it is the methodological and theoretical approaches it advocates.5 The manner in which the anthropology of Islam has informed my conceptualisation of religious diversity, evaluation of local Islam (SM. adat), and position about the ethnographic significance of Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire (Ar. ‘ibadat) is described below. William Roff observes that scholars have long unleashed their passion for taxonomy on the living. Like taxidermy, this should never be attempted on the living. Although anthropologists once routinely referred to a plurality of Islams within and between Muslim societies, these run contrary to the insistence by Muslims that there is only one Islam. References to distinct local “Islams” also risks historic connections between Muslim societies being overlooked (Bowen, 1993, p. 7). For instance, Marshall Hodgson noted that some of the abangan practices described by Geertz resembled those of Egyptians peasants (1974, p. 551), which el-Aswad el-Sayed 3 Varisco refers to Geertz’s “symbol-driven reading of Islam-as-a-cultural-system” being “reflexively disenfranchised with the arrest of meta-theorizing” (2005, p. 22). 4 For discussions of the anthropology of Islam see: Bowen (2010), Eickelman (1982), Houston (2009), Kreinath (2011), Lindholm (2002), Lukens-Bull (1999), Marranci (2008), Rutherford (2002), Soares and Osella (2010), Starrett (1997), Tapper (1995), and Varisco (2005). 5 Studies exemplifying the methodological and theoretical concerns of the anthropology of Islam include: Abashin (2007), Buitelaar (1993), Headley (2004), Headley and Parkin (2000), Mahmood (2001, 2005), Parkin (1994, 2000), Woodward (1988, 1989, 2011).

Approach

9

has recently described (2002, p. 158). Martin van Bruinessen argues that contact with the Middle East facilitated the adoption in Southeast Asia of both scripturalist Islam, mysticism and elements of Arabian adat (1999, p. 167). Dichotomising conceptualisations of Muslim diversity—that scripturalist/normative/universalist/formal Islam co-exists with a popular/local/received/folk Islam—are of limited heuristic value. Following Soares, I argue these to be interrelated and should not be analytically separated (1996, p. 7). In place of such binaries, Mark Woodward forwards a “tentative schemata” that ranges from “universalist”, to “essentialist”, “local” and “received” Islams (1988, pp. 87–88). “Universalist” Islam refers to texts and rituals not subject to change and development, but are objects of interpretive programs giving rise to the diverse modes of Islamic piety and thought. “Essentialist” Islam denotes modes of ritual practice that, while not mandated by universalist texts, are nonetheless widely distributed throughout the Muslim world.6 “Received” Islam denotes elements of universalist and essentialist Islam which are locally understood and interpreted. This is distinct from “local” Islam, namely oral, textual and ritual traditions unique to locales that have come out of the distinctive interaction between local culture and received Islam. Woodward points out that with the notable exception of “universalist” Islam, these are subject to change and that a variety of factors are involved in the formulation of “local” Islams. Following Woodward, this study argues that local Islams are not passive recipients of “universalist” and “essentialist” forms, but have come out of an interaction with existing religious and cultural traditions. I refer to elements of “local” Islam in Southeast Asia as adat. This is capable of denoting local (often non-ritualised) customs, and indigenous ceremonies or ritual accretions that have been Islamised and function to establish and maintain local Muslim identities. Most elements of Southeast Asian adat are regarded as synonymous with, or at least benign to, Islam (Muhaimin, 2006, pp. 116–118). James Fox argues that everything not explicitly banned (Ar. haram) may be made Islamic through uttering “bismillah” (Ar. “In the name of God”) or making a statement of intention (Ar. niyat) (2004, p. 8). Ambiguity between what is agama (religion), kebudayaan (culture) and adat (tradition) permits some Southeast Asian Muslims to participate in rituals possessing weak Islamic credentials (Möller, 2005, p. 279). Despite the origins of certain Southeast Asian adat being either uncertain or clearly Indic, van Bruinessen states that these “can not be called anything but Muslim”. Following Hodgson, he also refers to these as part of the “Islamicate cultures of the Archipelago” (1999, p. 167). Although once a fluid, adaptable and changing system of norms and regulations, adat underwent significant changes in the Dutch East Indies. Through a policy promulgated by Snouck Hurgronje, adat was codified for use in the Dutch colonial courts. This led to a number of unexpected outcomes. Not only was the fluid system transformed into a fixed and rigid one, but disaffection with adat laws also

6

These include Mawlid celebrations, Sufi dhikr rites, Shia Muharram celebrations, saint veneration, local pilgrimages, and ritual meals associated with merit and blessing.

10

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Introduction

grew out of suspicions that Dutch authorities aimed to weaken Islam through adat. As a result, while once viewed as complementary to shariah, adat began to be unfavorably compared to it. I have also drawn on insights supplied by the anthropology of Islam about the ethnographic significance of Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire (Ar. ‘ibadat). The division of labour which once existed between orientalists and anthropologists has been replaced in recent decades by increasing numbers of anthropologists who have cut across the “false dichotomy of orthodox and unorthodox Islam” (Soares, 2005, p. 7). Increasing numbers have undertaken studies of Islamic law courts and preaching (see Antoun, 1989; Bowen, 2003). Following Soares, this study will include Islamic discourses and practices located at the intersection of the local, the supralocal and the translocal (2005, p. 9). The proposition that anthropologists ignored ‘ibadat due to their lack of facility in Arabic and familiarity with Islamic sciences is rejected by Marion Katz who accuses anthropologists of being obsessed with local practices (2005, p. 107). Daniel Varisco refers to anthropology having come to Islam via the exotic, and that ‘ibadat was “too obvious, perhaps too boring, to require explanation” (2005, p. 17). For Katz, the importance of Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire is its ability to function as a receptacle for the meaning supplied in local contexts. This is made possible by its lack of semantic core (2005, p. 108). John Bowen, in his paradigmatic study of the social meaning of salat in Indonesia, encourages anthropologists to be attentive to how salat takes on “local social meanings” (1989, p. 615).7 In a similar comparative study of Muslim sacrifice between Sumatra and Morocco, John Bowen reveals that Muslims shape a particular set of ritual duties in sharply contrasting ways (1992). This is achieved through adaptations and elaborations that make sense within specific cultural forms (1992, p. 668).

Fieldwork Living in Cabetigo as an educationalist for 4 years before morphing into an accidental anthropologist positively affected my fieldwork experience in a number of ways. By 2005, I had become acquainted with many people in Cabetigo and the community’s ethnic and religious diversity. Most of the people who became key informants were close friends. As I desired that these friendships continued once I had completed my data collection, I occasionally chose not to collect data whenever this might be interpreted as insensitive.8 7 That salat is capable of functioning in this manner has been confirmed by the contributors to Stephen Headley and David Parkin’s Islamic Prayer Across the Indian Ocean: Inside and Outside the Mosque (2000). 8 For instance, on one occasion in the middle of my fieldwork I chose not to interview friends about how they made merit for their son who had tragically died. On another occasion, I accepted the wishes of families in the community who let it be known through an intermediary that they would prefer me not to attend a funeral feast that they were holding.

Fieldwork

11

As well as becoming acquainted with many people, Cabetigo residents had also become accustomed to my presence. Although more a fly in the ointment than a fly on the wall, Cabetigo residents accepted my presence in their day-to-day ointment. As such, their behaviour was only occasionally influenced by it. Finally, my longterm residence in Cabetigo enabled me to become proficient in Thai and the Pattani Malay dialect. As an ethnographic study, I employed a number of data collection methods appropriate to the nature of my research questions. All these required me to interact with my informants. In late 2005, I began attending community events and feasts as a participant observer. I wrote field notes after any event or significant discussions that occurred in the course of a day. During this first phase of data collection I also sought out friends who had been involved in important episodes I had been involved in. All this yielded an enormous amount of empirical data concerning how and why Muslims generate merit. It also generated many questions that would only be answered through an equally extensive regime of interviews. As is well known, interviews yield data that is taken for granted by informants or not amenable to observations, such as the midnight prayers (PM. semaye tahajud). Although I had occasionally conducted informal interviews in the course of participant observation, these were included in my field notes. From late 2006, two types of interviews were conducted. The first were semi-structured interviews that I conducted with 80 Cabangtiga residents. Most of these had been involved with my participant observation and lived less than 100 metres from my house. Other interviewees were friends and acquaintances I had met in the tea shops I regularly patronised. Over half of my interviewees were members of eight extended families. Three of these were Malay, two were Thai Muslims from Nakhon Sri Thammarat, two were Pathans, and one was of Arabic origin. Before commencing these semi-structured interviews I prepared a database of the people who I hoped to interview. This contained their pseudonym (that almost all of them requested I use in lieu of real names) and details about their gender, occupation, educational background, ethnicity, preferred language and reformist or traditionalist orientation. Not only did this enable me to keep a record of who I had interviewed, but also of whether interviewees represented Cabetigo’s linguistic, ethnic and religious diversity. I followed an interview schedule that contained open-ended questions which solicited lengthy answers. I avoided specific questions that might prevent alternative avenues of enquiry. Some interviews required two sessions. Sometimes either the interviewer or interviewee ran out of time. Other interviews were prematurely concluded when the quality of the data was affected. Whenever an important issue or new line of enquiry was raised, I altered the interview schedules for subsequent interviews. These insights were occasionally significant enough for me to conduct additional interviews of people I had already interviewed. As the number of semi-structured interviews increased, so did my understanding of the range of merit-making terms, merit-generating rituals and merit-making

12

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Introduction

motivations. This resembled a research spiral. As is well known, spirals and circles are distinct by the latter lacking direction. An unproductive circle had replaced a fruitful spiral whenever no new data on a given issue was generated. Whenever this happened, I concluded that sufficient data on an issue had been obtained and that the interview schedules for all subsequent interviews could be adjusted. Such a decision was only made when those I had interviewed represented Cabetigo’s ethnic, religious and linguistic diversity. I initially intended to conduct one-on-one interviews. Whenever interviewing women in their house, I was accompanied by my wife or carried out the interview in a local restaurant when there were relatively few customers. I conducted interviews with married couples provided there were no concerns that one person would dominate the other. Occasionally a one-on-one interview attracted the attention of family members and friends. In many of these group interviews those participating appeared to enjoy themselves more and higher quality data was yielded. As a result, if I suspected an informant lacked confidence, other family members and friends were included which made the interview more enjoyable and productive. Semi-structured interviews were followed by in-depth interviews with key informants that sought to elicit rich, detailed material (Lofland & Lofland, 1995). My key informants were people I had been closely associated with for a number of years, and who were willing to discuss issues with me. As noted they also had to represent Cabetigo’s ethnic, religious and linguistic diversity. These in-depth interviews were more structured and focused. In them, I frequently pressed informants for details and challenged their initial responses. Doing so occasionally revealed information that had not been disclosed in the semi-structured interviews. At the time this regime of interviewing commenced my fluency in Thai was sufficient to not require a research assistant. Like most of my participant observation, the earliest interviews were conducted in Thai. A rough balance of Thai and Malay language data was achieved by conducting more interviews in Malay in later interview cycles. When conducting interviews in Pattani Malay, I invited some capable of clearing up any confusion I encountered to be present. Except for material of no relevance to my research topic, I produced full transcripts of all interviews. In these, I made special note of Thai or Malay terms employed by informants. I also consulted language informants when there was any uncertainty about any terms. Once all my transcripts had been completed, a Malay language informant checked how accurately I had interpreted key Thai, Pattani Malay and Arabic religious terms. There were a number of complications to my fieldwork. This was conducted during the time of considerable social and political tension. Tensions began a year after we arrived as a result of the events of September 11, 2011 and the allied invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. These soon led to widespread anti-Western sentiments, leading Muslim friends to advise me to keep a low profile. I was strongly advised not to participate in an anti-war rally, as I would be suspected as a spy. In 2004, Thailand’s Malay-dominated southern provinces descended into violence. This was caused as much by a new phase of Malay armed resistance, as the responses of the Royal Thai Army and Police that were often inept and brutal. Although a number suggested I leave Pattani, there were comparatively few

Fieldwork

13

bombings and shootings in Pattani town and no one believed that insurgents would begin to target foreigners. The rising violence in villages led me to not pursue a comparative study of merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales between urban Malays in Cabetigo and a rural Malay community. Although the vast majority of Cabetigo residents cooperated with my fieldwork, some who I had not been personally acquainted with did not. The greatest difficulties I encountered related to enquiries about the tensions—both past and present— between Cabetigo traditionalists and reformist religious constituents. Nonetheless, my experience of fieldwork was much less complicated than if I had been an English or American anthropologist who had arrived in Cabetigo in 2005 with funds sufficient for 12 months of fieldwork. Although I had a good rapport with dozens of people, and spoke good Thai and passable Pattani Malay, challenges to my fieldwork related to my religious otherness vis-à-vis Islam. Ethnographers have been described as professional strangers adept at negotiating multi-faceted and dynamic “betwixt and between” identities (Agar, 1996). Cabezon and Davaney argue that a number of constituents make up the identity of a scholar of religion. In addition to religious affiliation, gender and ethnicity, one’s researcher identity also consists of innate, elective, manipulated—and even concealed—elements. These move into the foreground or recede to the background depending on the context, interlocutor or topic under discussion (2004, p. 12). For a non-Muslim Western anthropologist studying Muslims in the post-9/11 world at a time when an old insurgency was reigniting, my religious identity effected rapport, trust and access to data. This is far from a new phenomenon. Richard Francis Burton had posed as a pilgrim in order to enter Mecca, and Snouck Hurgronje converted to Islam which permitted him to study the subjects of the Dutch East Indies in that city. Despite Michael Laffan insisting that Snouck Hurgronje’s conversion to Islam was beyond question—that he was a Muslim¯un (Ar. Muslim)—he questions whether he was a true believer (Ar. mu’mim) (2003, p. 52). Anthropologists seeking to build rapport with Muslim informants have employed a number of strategies. Kathryn Kuey (2001) recalls wearing a veil to hide her short hair and donning a wedding band (despite not being married), fearing that as a single woman she would be less mobile. Before commencing his own fieldwork on Islamic boarding schools (Id. pesantren) in Java, Ron Lukens-Bull narrates receiving advice from a European Islamologist. He strongly encouraged Lukens-Bull to unequivocally present himself as a Muslim—although as a new convert (Ar. mu’allaf)—to make his inevitable mistakes easier to understand and forgive. Upon entering his pesantren, he worn Javanese clothes and attended salat. However, he appears to have not followed this advice—offering more nuanced explanations of his religious identity. As his participation in salat confused most informants, Lukens-Bull eventually abandoned attempts at clarifying whether he was a Muslim or not (2007, p. 178). There are a range of positions on the impact that a researcher’s religious identity has on fieldwork. Russell McCutcheon refers to the insider/outsider problem highlighted by feminist, post-modern or post-colonial theorising that is attentive to the situatedness of human discourse. Similar to emic/insider and etic/outsider positions

14

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Introduction

are epistemological privilege and epistemological optimism. The latter asserts that identity has no impact on knowledge. As such, two scholars possessing distinct identities who investigate the same religious phenomenon are able to reach the same conclusions. Epistemological privilege alleges that a scholar’s identity negatively circumscribes what he or she can know. Propositions that epistemological privilege is a private form of knowing solely on the basis of inborn characteristics is increasingly viewed as incompatible with modern scholarship. This is, after all, a highly public and contestable form of knowledge creation that operates on standardised modes of reason and verification (Cho, 2004, p. 62). Rita Gross calls for researchers of religion to replace their desire for neutrality with an awareness of their influences and identities. This is “less self-delusional than trying to hide our identities from ourselves while coyly pretending to other scholars that our positions and identities are irrelevant to our choices of research topics and our conclusions regarding those topics” (2004, p. 114). Gross also asserts that one’s professional training is capable of being as important as one’s religious affiliation, affecting as it does the questions asked, approaches found compelling and conclusions reached. Delusions about the existence of detached observers or clean slates should be replaced with religious and professional identities being brought to the table (ibid). My experience of explaining my religious identity resembles those encountered by Lukens-Bull in Java. I have been a Christ-follower all my adult life. Although I never knowingly deceived people into thinking that I was a Muslim, I became aware that some in Cabetigo were unclear about my religious allegiance. A European researcher once enquired about my conversion to Islam that someone in Cabetigo had informed him about. A number of factors could have led to those not personally acquainted with me to have reached such a conclusion. For a relatively brief time before September 11, 2001 I had attended the Pakistan mosque. I discontinued this practice soon afterwards so as to quench rumours that I was a spy. Not only did I possess non-Caucasian facial features and had a long beard, but my wife also wore a headscarf, something which our landlord recommended. I also preferred to answer questions by emphasising belief over belonging. These contained references to Allah and spoke of my devotion to Jesus (Ar. Nabi Isa). Although this led to a minority in Cabetigo unequivocally rejecting me as a khafir (Ar. unbeliever), most welcomed me as a God-fearing, although slightly misguided, ahl-al-kitab cousin.9 While my non-Muslim identity complicated my rapport with some informants and access to some data, I had the advantage of facility in both Thai and Pattani Malay. A number of similarities exist between language ability and religious identity. The first is that both are resolvable: the former through a determined attitude to language acquisition, and the later through conversion. Anthony Johns insightfully suggests that the intellectual and sympathetic mastery of a religious tradition resembles aspects of language-learning. In addition to both affecting how one views of the

9

Ar. people of the book, namely Christians and Jews.

Limits, Structure and Style

15

world, but serious students of language and religion are less prone to misinterpret data due to their increased awareness of long established cognitive processes (1975, p. 37).

Limits, Structure and Style This study is specifically concerned with the merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales of Muslims in Cabetigo who are predominantly bilingual Malays. Malays in Cabetigo have longer and closer contacts with Thai-style modernity than those residing in the rural communities of the Thailand’s far-south. No claims are made that what I describe can be extrapolated to other Muslims communities. In addition to being an ethnographic study of merit-making in a specific urban Malay community, this study makes no attempts to compare Muslim merit-making with those of Buddhists in Cabetigo, or anywhere else. I have also not addressed the related issues of sin or demerit (Th. baap, PM. pahalo). This study runs the risk of ballooning into a tour de force of Islamic religiosity on account of tham bun occasionally denoting general religious activity that is unrelated to the production of merit. I only consider rituals referred to as tham bun when Muslims view these to yield merit. I make no claims that merit generation, accumulation and transference are the sole concern of Muslims in Cabetigo. The focused nature of this study makes it inevitable that readers will only catch glimpses of other aspects of Muslim spirituality and devotional practices. While I have discussed the religious aspects of the insurgency in Pattani, Yala, and Narathiwat elsewhere (see Joll, 2010), only occasional references are made to violence in South Thailand in this study. How can this be justified? Not only has this claimed more than 4,500 lives since 2004, but counter-insurgency experts have described this as the most intense insurgency after those currently operating in Iraq and Afghanistan (Kilcullen, 2009, p. 121, cited in McCargo, 2009, p. 55). I do not deny the importance of understanding why Malay in Thailand’s far-south are rebelling (Hafez, 2003). Has the conflict been caused by a crisis over modern Malayness and anxiety over cultural annihilation and language loss? Are insurgents disillusioned with Thai style modernity and democracy? What part has the crisis in political and religious leadership played? The vast majority of studies which have been conducted in Thailand’s far-south have either dealt with the past Malay separatist struggle or the more complicated current insurgency.10 My decision to leave others to answer these questions is that my primary interests are in how southern 10

The following are some of the most important studies of Malay separatism: Dulyakasem (1991), Haemindra (1976, 1977), Pitsuwan (1985), Satha-Anand (1987), Suhrke (1975, 1977), Thomas (1975, 1989), and Wan Kadir Che Man (1990). Those interested in the current insurgency should consult the following: Askew (2007, 2008), Camroux and Pathan (2008), Horstmann (2008), International Crisis Group (2005), Joll (2010), Liow (2006, 2007, 2008, 2009a), Liow and Pathan (2010), McCargo (2005, 2007, 2008), Satha-Anand (2006, 2008, 2009), and Tan-Mullins (2009), Yusuf (2009a, 2009b).

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Introduction

Malays either resist (Scott, 1985) or negotiate with Thai and Islamic influences. This study seeks to contribute to the ethnographic record of Malay communities in Thailand’s far-south that, regrettably, is comparatively thin—especially compared to the burgeoning counter-insurgency corpus.11 The final characteristic of past ethnographic studies in South Thailand is their rural bias. This is the first substantive study of urban Malayness in South Thailand.12 This study begins in this Introduction with a treatment of Patani’s Indic, Islamic and Thai pasts. The Indic past that Pattani shares with the rest of mainland and island Southeast Asia is described. Following a description of the Sanskrit cosmopolis that existed for a millennium before the earliest chapters of Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion, the concept of circulating Islam (which produced cosmopolitan creole communities connected with the Indian Ocean trade) is introduced. The importance of the Indian influence relates to both where these creole ambassadors came from and where they came to. The process through which members of Southeast Asia’s port city-states pragmatically adopted Islam is then reconstructed. Although questioning the extent of Ayutthaya’s influence in Pattani prior to 1785, the process through which the Malay Kerajaan of Pattani was incrementally absorbed by Bangkok following its defeat in the five decades of wars that ended in 1838 is delineated. Before the establishment of the province of Pattani in 1932, Pattani town existed as one of seven huamuang (1815–1902) and one of four monthon (1906– 1932). Pattani’s absorption coincided with a time of revolution and reform in the Hijaz. Islamic movements birthed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries impacted South Thailand through Pattani Malay scholars such as Shaykh Daud b. Abdullah b. Idris al-Fatani (Shaykh Daud al-Fatani) (1740–1847), and Shaykh Wan Ahmad b. Muhammad Zain Mustafa al-Fatani (Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani) (1856–1908) who emigrated there over this time of crisis. Through a range of legislative initiatives following the Anglo-Siamese treaty of 1909, Bangkok increased its absorption of the newly formed provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. This coincided with the arrival of Islamic modernism and reformism, locally mediated through Shaykh Muhammad Sulong bin Abdul Kadir bin Muhammad al-Fatani (Haji Sulong) (1895–1954). Having outlined how Bangkok and Mecca impacted on Pattani, Chapter 2 concludes with a description of Salafism and the revivalist activities of Tablighi Jama’at in present-day South Thailand. While Chapter 2 describes the Indic, Thai and Islamic elements in Pattani’s past, Chapter 3 describes how these Thai and Islamic influences impacted the religious, linguistic and ethnic diversity of present-day Cabetigo. All these have had some impact on how urban Malays identify themselves, their proficiency in Thai, and 11 The most important studies in the ethnographic canon of Malay in South Thailand are: Cornish (1997), Dorarirajoo (2002), Fraser (1960) Horstmann (2002), Le Roux (1998), Liow (2009b), Marddent (2005, 2008), Muhammad Arafat Bin Mohamad (2009), Pas-Ong (1990), Prachuabmoh (1980, 1993), Tan-Mullins (2006) and Tsuneda (2006, 2009). 12 The following are recommended to those interested in recent studies of urban Malayness: Baxstrom (2008), Fischer (2008), Frisk (2009), and Thompson (2007).

Limits, Structure and Style

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how Islam is practised. While the vast majority of Cabetigo residents are bilingual Malays who adhere to a traditionalist expression of Islam, Cabetigo also has a significant reformist constituency. I show that while most mono-lingual Thai-speakers in the present-day are Thai Muslim immigrants, there are an increasing numbers of young Malays in Cabetigo incapable of communicating in Malay. Chapter 4 is concerned with Thai and Malay merit-making rhetoric and it begins with a delimitation of this rhetoric. Proposals are put forward about what Thaispeaking informants mean by tham bun. This chapter concludes with reasons for evaluating tham bun as a search for equivalence rather than as a sign of syncretism. This is followed by case studies of Muslims who have been forced to think Islamic thoughts in languages associated with other religious traditions. Chapter 4 concludes by highlighting that Muslim merit-making rhetoric is replete with Islamic ideation. Chapter 5 is the first of three chapters that describe the ritual repertoire through which Cabetigo’s Muslim residents generate, accumulate and transfer religious merit. Merit-generation and transference through Qur’anic readings and recitations and salat are described. These are the first of three discrete merit-making elements present in what I refer to as merit-making complexes. In Chapter 6, I describe acts of charity (PM. sedekoh) and feasting complexes. Sedekoh is the last of three discrete merit-making elements, and feasting complexes are the first of three meritmaking feasting complexes. The final two merit-making complexes that I describe in Chapter 7 are Ramadan and pilgrimages to Mecca. In all three chapters, I pay particular attention to practices contested by Cabetigo’s reformist constituency, and how merit-makers generate merit not only for themselves but for the deceased. The focus of Chapter 8 shifts from the discrete ritual elements and merit-making complexes to the rationales and motivations for generating merit. In it I consider the role of obligations (to Allah and the deceased). I also recount beliefs concerning the efficacious operation of merit in this world (PM. dunio) and the world of the grave (PM. alam al-barzakh) for both the merit-maker and the deceased. Having suggested that these reveal the presence of a Muslim economy of merit, Thai influences and Islamic credentials are also considered. Chapter 9 concludes this study by delineating how Muslims in Cabetigo respond to Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire in unique ways. Merit generation, accumulation and transference have amplified importance in Cabetigo. Also Muslims conceive ‘ibadat to be the primary means through which merit is accumulated and transferred to the dead. The adoption of tham bun religious rhetoric increases Islam’s local comprehensibility in this Thai cosmopolis—Islam answers questions ordinary Muslims ask and scratch where people are itching. In light of the importance of language in this study, the following comments on style are required. Language is important to this study by virtue of its content (religious rhetoric) and context (multi-lingual Cabetigo). Readers have already encountered a large number of Arabic, Thai and Malay (in what I refer to as the Pattani Malay dialect) terms. I have already commented that I specify which language these vernacular terms are in with abbreviations. A glossary of all vernacular terms is supplied and it is recommended that readers familiarise themselves with this. The system used to transliterate Thai and Malay terms may be found in Appendix.

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Designating some terms as “Arabic” is complicated for the following reasons. Innumerable references are made to Arabic words such as niat, ikhalah, wajib, sunnat, ‘ibadat, salat and sedekoh that have long been embedded in Cabetigo’s religious lexicon. Not only are some of these pronounced in ways that Arabic speakers might find unrecognisable, but conventions of plural and singular suffixes are rarely followed. This sometimes creates confusion: “Did he mean sunnat (Ar. supererogatory) or sunnah (Ar. the practice of the Prophet)? Transcribing descriptions of religious reward occasionally required forcing vernacular terms to conform to English language conventions. This sometimes leads to unconventional capitalisations and neologisms, particularly turning vernacular terms into plurals. My preference for local pronunciation has led me to refer to Cabetigo (not Cabangtiga), ponok schools (not pondok) and pahalo (not pahala) throughout this study. The modern Thai province of Pattani is distinct from the kerajaan, huamuang or monthon of Patani that preceded it. An aspect of Malay names that confuses non-Malays, and (albeit mildly) annoys some Malays, is the absence of surnames. As such, Malays are cited as Syed Hussein Al-Attas, not Attas, S.H.

References Abashin, S. (2007). The logic of Islamic practice: A religious conflict in central Asia. Central Asian Survey, 25(3), 267–286. Agar, M. (1996). The professional stranger: An informal introduction to ethnography. San Diego: Academic. Antoun, R. T. (1989). Muslim preacher in the modern world. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Askew, M. (2007). Conspiracy, politics and a disorderly border: The struggle to comprehend insurgency in Thailand’s Deep South (Policy Studies 29). Washington, DC: East-West Center Washington. Askew, M. (2008). Thailand’s intractable southern war: Reflections on policy, insurgency and discourse. Contemporary Southeast Asia, 30(2), 186–214. Baxstrom, R. (2008). Houses in motion: The experience of place and the problem of belief in urban Malaysia (Cultural memory in the present). Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Bowen, J. R. (1989). Salat in Indonesia: The social meanings of an Islamic ritual. Man, 24, 299–318. Bowen, J. R. (1992). On scriptural essentialism and ritual variation: Muslim sacrifice in Sumatra and Morocco. American Ethnologist, 19, 656–671. Bowen, J. R. (1993). Muslims through discourse: Religion and ritual in Gayo society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bowen, J. R. (2003). Islam, law, and equality in Indonesia: An anthropology of public reasoning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bowen, J. R. (2010). The new anthropology of Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Buitelaar, M. (1993). Fasting and feasting in Morocco. Berg: Oxford. Burr, A. (1972). Buddhism, Islam and spirit beliefs and practices in a southern Thai costal fishing village. Journal of the Siam Society, 60(2), 183–215. Burr, A. (1974). Buddhism, Islam and spirit beliefs and practices and their social correlates in two southern Thai costal fishing villages. Ph.D. Thesis, University of London, London.

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Chapter 2

Indic, Islamic and Thai Influences

Abstract This chapter describes Patani’s Indic, Islamic and Thai pasts. The argument is that the Malay kerajaan of Patani was similar to—rather than distinct from—other port city-states on the peninsula and islands of Southeast Asia where a Sanskrit cosmopolis existed for a millennium before the earliest chapters of Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion. Islam also circulated east and west of Patani through trade between the Middle East and China via the Indian Ocean. This created a range of Indian/Arab/Malay creole communities whose members played key roles in the adoption of, or adhesion to, Islam in Southeast Asian port city-states like Patani. India’s importance to the arrival of Islam to the Thai/Malay peninsula relates to what Islam came to, where Islam initially came from, and who Islam came through. Rather than refer to conversion, I refer to an adhesion to, or adoption of, Islam. The impact of Thai and Islamic influences in Patani/Pattani following its defeat in 1785 is described. The details of the process through which the Malay Kingdom (SM. kerajaan) of Patani became the Thai Province of Pattani, including Bangkok’s legislative and administrative initiatives are also provided. A central concern of this chapter is to highlight the fact that these developments coincided with a period of revolution and reform in the Hijaz. I describe how these developments impacted local religious life and thought through local luminaries such as Shaykh Daud Al-Fatani, Shaykh Ahmad Al-Fatani and Haji Sulong. The methodologies and contributions of present-day reformist revivalist movements are also described.

Introduction This chapter describes the Indic, Thai and Islamic influences in the history of Thailand’s southern Malay provinces. In the first half of this chapter that deals with Indic and Islamic influences prior to 1785, I reveal Indic influences to have preceding Islamic ones by over a millennium. Furthermore, there are Indian connections in where Islam came from, what it came to, and who it came through. I introduce Shelton Pollock’s concept of Sanskrit cosmopolis and recent proposals that permit new insights into Islam’s arrival and adoption. These include the notion that Islam “circulated” between Southern Arabia and China through trading networks. These networks created a range of creole communities whose members were among Islam’s earliest ambassadors. All this brings into focus that Southeast Asia C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_2,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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is connected to—rather than separated from—the Middle East via the Indian Ocean trade. I refer to Malay adhesion to, or pragmatic appropriation of, Islam, rather than “conversion”. An Arabic cosmopolis eventually replaced its Sanskrit predecessor. While the first half of this chapter argues that the process through which Islam was adopted in Patani resembled other port city-states, the second half considers an aspect of Patani’s past experienced by few other Malay kerajaan (SM. sultanates, kingdoms). Thai influences grew following Patani’s initial defeat by the first king of the Chakri Dynasty (Rama I) in 1785. The five decades of wars that followed inaugurated a process through which Patani became irrevocably absorbed into Bangkok’s sphere of influence. Both Bangkok’s principal administrative and legislative initiatives—and the range of Malay responses these provoked—are delineated. Special attention is paid to these developments having coincided with a period of revolution and reform in the Hijaz. The speed with some of these religious developments began to affect the practice of Islam in Patani testifies to the role of Patani’s creole ambassadors. The legacies of local luminaries such as Shaykh Daud AlFatani and Shaykh Ahmad Al-Fatani are considered in the context of the revolutions in transport and communication that were occurring across the Indian Ocean at the time. This chapter concludes with a discussion of twentieth century modernist, reformist and revivalist movements.

Sanskrit Cosmopolis Michael Laffan notes that medieval Arab historical accounts frequently locate Southeast Asian toponyms within general descriptions of India. He attributes this to the presence in the predominantly Buddhist kingdoms of Java, Angkor (Cambodia) and Sriwijaya of the cults of divine kingship and the use of Sanskrit for official proclamations (2006, p. 767). Commenting on debates over the connections between South and Southeast Asia, Daud Ali alleges that colonial historians viewed India as an older and superior civilisation. Following the discovery of cultural interactions between these regions, Southeast Asian civilisations were regarded as derivatives. The collapse of colonial empires, and the rise of Southeast Asia nationalists, meant concepts like “Greater India” and “Hindu colonies” (Sastri, 1949; Winstedt, 1966, 1969) were increasingly viewed as outmoded vestiges of a colonial mindset (Ali, 2009, pp. 10, 12). Having rejected the notion that Southeast Asia had been colonised by Hindu kings, Georges Coedès (1971) proposed a theory of Indianisation. Brahmin advisors, ritual specialists and merchants all played important roles in the transplanting of Indic civilisation in Southeast Asia. Far from being a process of political dominion, Indic culture was rather adopted by Southeast Asian elites. For Ali, such cultural contacts followed “commercial interaction between South India and Southeast Asia, which was in turn connected to wider trade networks in the Indian Ocean”. As such, questions about how far Indian influence dominated Southeast Asia are more important than how this influence was achieved. Coedes’ theory of Indianisation was soon viewed as too Indo-centric, assuming as it did that a transplantation of “superior and dynamic Indian ideas on a

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culturally coherent, but relatively inert, local culture”, had occurred. While outside forces shaped Southeast Asia, these were also absorbed, translated and recontexutalised for their own ends. Rather than making things “Indian”, Indianisation consolidated indigenous concepts and practices which already existed (Ali, 2009, pp. 12, 13). Advances in proto-historic archaeology (see Allen, 1998; Jacq-Hergoualc’h, 2002, 1997; Wheatley, 1961) have provided more detail about Southeast Asian societies prior to Indian contact. Rather than Indianisation bringing something new, it contributed to a process that had already begun. Ali suggests that Sheldon Pollock’s theory of “Sanskrit cosmopolis” (2006) should replace previous conceptions of “autonomous” historiographies.1 Pollock has argued that from 300 CE, Southeast Asia had been transformed by a “trans-culturation” through classical Sanskrit having become “the preferred medium for proclamatory political discourse, and aesthetic representation”. The significance of this process was the function and significance that Sanskrit gained vis-à-vis local culture. What motivated the adoption of Sanskrit by Southeast Asian courts was the imperative of participating in the cosmopolitan Sanskrit culture in which “self-identification, representation, and sovereignty were articulated in a common poetic language” (2009, p. 16). The most dramatic examples of South Thailand’s Indic past are the Hindu relics of the Yarang complex located 15 km from present-day Pattani. This is widely regarded to be the capital of the kingdom of Langkasuka. Lape (2005, p. 832) claims that extensive coastal progradation that occurred from the fifteenth century CE considerably altered the coastline of much of the Malay peninsula. As a result, key sites of this period are found further inland (see also Allen, 1991, 1998) (Map 2.1). While Chinese records are replete with references to Langkasuka’s Hindu and Buddhist influences (Jacq-Hergoualc’h, 2002, pp. 326–328, 1997; Wales, 1974; Welch & McNeill, 1989; Wheatley, 1956), the demise and abandonment of the Yarang complex remains a mystery. Krueset was the centre of the Hindu kingdom of Patani (Teeuw & Wyatt, 1970, p. 3). At the time of Islam’s arrival in Patani, a form of Tantric Shivaism was adhered to. The rajas were identified with Shiva (Bougas, 1994, p. 77).2 Hindu (and later Buddhist) conceptions of the universe were expressed architecturally. Being associated with the heavens, the gables of traditional Patani homes possess a sun pattern (phom).

Circulating Islam and Connected Creoles Numerous scenarios about the personalities and processes through which Islam expanded to Southeast Asia have been proposed. Although few fail to provide some insights, many of these inadequately define or deal with issues of discrete 1 2

For an excellent review of Pollock see Gould (2008). Indeed, in local marriages the bridal couple are depicted as Shiva and his consort Uma.

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Map 2.1 Proposed location of the coastline during the Langkasuka kingdom Source: Jacq-Hergoualc’h (2002: Document 17)

geopolitical entities, population movements, diasporic hybridity and the external influences at the time (Ali, 2009, pp. 10, 14, 17). Recent scholarship on Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion has emphasised connections over comparisons (Feener & Sevea, 2009; Tan Ta Sen, 2009). Inappropriate attention to comparisons has often led to misguided searches for origins and developmental convergences. Furthermore, Islam has not infrequently been misconstrued to only be capable of flowing from the Middle East to receptive markets in Southeast Asia. In this process trading guilds and Sufi orders are sometimes surmised to function like supply chains (Feener, 2009, p. xvi). Through paying attention to the connections that existed between the Middle East, South Asia and Southeast Asia since the fifteenth century, the complex and mediated nature of Islamic transmission and networks is brought into focus.

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Southeast Asian port cities did function as conduits in the supply and demand of new ideas that arrived from the West. Rather than unidirectional transmission, Ali proposes multiple circuits of cultural exchange to have existed (Ali, 2009, p. 14). This is referred to by Torsten Tschacher as “circulating Islam”, or the multidirectional movement of ideas, some of which were transformed by the people who transported them (2009, p. 49). Replacing one-way diffusion with multi-directional circulation permits a more nuanced understanding of Islamic traditions in South and Southeast Asia where “shared customs were transformed and inflected in divergent ways in dispersed geographical settings and fed back into the circulatory regime” (Tschacher, 2009, p. 62). New perspectives on Hamzah Fansuri (d.1590) and Nur al-Din al-Raniri (d. 1656)—both of whom are characters of tremendous importance in the history of Southeast Asian Islam—are provided by this concept of Islam having circulated between the Middle East and China. Hamzah Fansuri was a Persian who hailed from Barus (Fansur) in north-west Sumatra, despite being commonly referred to as one of the greatest Sufi poets in the Malay world. Hamzah Fansuri was one of the first to articulate the monism Islamic theosophy of wahdat al-wujud (Ar. the unity of being) in Malay. He traveled widely—both east and west of Sumatra—which explains his fluency in Persian, Malay and Arabic. His travels took him to Ayutthaya where there was a sizable Persian community who referred to their city as Shahr-i Nav (Pr. City of boats and canals).3 The theosophical doctrines that Hamzah Fansuri established (or perhaps continued) in Sumatra became a major focal point of religious teaching and writing in Aceh. These doctrines were rigorously opposed by Nur al-Din Muhammad bin Ali b. Hasanji al-Hamid al-Shafi`i al-Ashari al-‘Aydarusi al-Raniri, a second important personality who I argue was also produced by this circulating Islam. The scarcity of information about Al-Raniri has forced historians to make deductions from the large number of nisba in his name (Azra, 2004, p. 54). A general consensus now exists that Al-Raniri belonged to a diaspora family of the Hamid clan in Ranir (presentday Rander) in India’s state of Gujarat. Riddell notes that, like Hamzah Fansuri, Al-Raniri traveled both east and west of his Indian place of birth. He traveled to Mecca where he performed the haj in 1620–21, before visiting the Hadhramaut. Al-Raniri’s connections to the east were through his uncle, Muhammad Jilani Hamid, who had visited the Sultanate of Aceh in the 1580s. A number of claims about his contact with the Malay world (SM. Dunai Melayu) have been made. The size of the Malay community in Gujarat permitted him to master Malay before living in Aceh between 1637 and 1644. Syed Naguib Al-Attas also asserts that his mother was Malay (Riddell, 2009, p. 176). Al-Raniri is the first case study in Azyumardi Azra’s study of seventeenth and eighteenth century networks (Ar. silsilah) and chains of transmission (Ar. isnad) that laid the foundations of Islamic 3 Although Marcinkowski rigorously argues that Hamzah Fansuri was born in Ayutthaya (2009, p. 397), Martin van Bruinessen argues that Fansuri travelled to Ayutthaya where, through contact with the sizable Persian community, he experienced his profoundest mystical insights (van Bruinessen 1994, p. 114). For more on Hamzah Fansuri see: Braginsky (1999), Brakel (1969).

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reformism in Southeast Asia (2004). Al-Raniri’s mother was a Malay mother, and his father was a Hadrami whose families had long migrated between South and Southeast Asia. Nevertheless, Azra refers to al-Raniri as neither an Arab nor an Indian ‘alim (Ar. religious scholar), but a Malay-Indonesian (2004, p. 54). Although studies by Syed Naguib Al-Attas (1969) and Nilakanta Sastri (1949) established the importance of Arab and Indian Sufis in Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion, the debates between these Arab and Indian scholars and their respective students were highly ethnocised (Shamsul, 2005, p. 164). Despite being an important personality in the development of Malay Islam, Al-Raniri is only inadequately described as either Arab, Indian or Malay. He was the product of a mobile, multilingual, cosmopolitan communities produced by this circulating Islam that might be referred to as “creole” (see Joll, 2009). My reference to creole (over synonyms like “hybrid” or “cosmopolitan”) is related to my interest in developing Michael Laffan’s reference to “Islam’s ‘creole’ ambassadors”. Laffan describes these as individuals born to parents from either shore of the Indian Ocean, who played prominent roles in both Islam’s initial Southeast Asian expansion and subsequent development (2003, pp. 9, 400).4 The cosmopolitan nature of Southeast Asia port city-states like Patani is well known (Gibson, 2007; Reid, 2008, 2009). Ali claims that from the thirteenth century, “Arab” traders and religious leaders active in Southeast Asia hailed not from the traditional Arab heartlands, but from important ports along the Indian Ocean’s trading circuits such as Ranir. Marco Polo’s description of Sumatra in 1291 includes a number of toponyms that suggest the presence of Sino-Muslim sailors. Marco Polo also mentions many Idrîsî’s (Indian Muslim middle-men), that Ibn Battûta (1304– 77) also observed on the Malabar Coast (Laffan, 2005, p. 49).5 The origins of the first Arab/Indian creole communities on the Southwest coast of India were male Hadrami immigrants who married Indian women. These mixed communities were rejuvenated by new arrivals from the Hadhramaut. This dynamic distinguished them from the “Mappila” communities which shifted inland and are viewed as practising a more syncretistic form of Islam. Increased immigration from the thirteenth century caused this population to swell, leading to local Malabari Muslims and Hadrami immigrants moving further east. This explains the adherence to the Shafi`i madhhab (Ar. school of Islamic jurisprudence) in Southern Arabia, South India and Southeast Asia (Forbes, 1981). Southeast Asian coastal settlements were “intermediary communities” where “creative foreigners” receptive to new influences resided. These mobile polyglots also maintained contacts with the countries their forebears had migrated from (van der Putten, 2009, p. 89). Ronit Ricci has recently developed Pollock’s concepts of cosmopolis. She refers to Tamil and “Malay” Muslims having participated in an “Arabic cosmopolis” in which Tamil and Malay vernaculars became linked to each other and the

4

For more on hybridity see Feener (2004). For a recent discussion of the role of Chinese in Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion see Tan Ta Sen (2009) and Geoffrey Wade (2009, 2010). 5

Circulating Islam and Connected Creoles

31

cosmopolitan Arabic (Ricci, 2010, 2011).6 Encounters with Arabic had a number of dynamic effects on language. Tamil was written in a modified Arabic script (referred to as Arwi), similar to its Malay equivalent Jawi. Many of the Arabic loanwords present in Malay were also borrowed from Tamil or Malayalam. Tshacher even suggests that Malay borrowed more Arabic words from Tamil usage than it borrowed actual Tamil words.7 Such dynamics attest to the “importance of the Arabic cosmopolis in the exchange between both vernaculars and vice versa” (Tschacher, 2009, pp. 55–56).8 Past approaches to Islam in Southeast Asia treated Islam as peripheral to Southeast Asia. However, Laffan, Feener and Azra have shown that Islam in Southeast Asia was connected to the Middle East via the Indian Ocean—to which I add that this connection featured a range of creole personalities. Far from bringing the pristine Islam of the Salaf al-Salih, creole ambassadors introduced a range of “Islams” that had previously been “embedded” in their Arab/Indian/Malay communities (Shamsul, 2005). The selective appropriation and application of a range of Islams resulted in many of the major streams of Islamic thought and practice being present in Southeast Asia, although sometimes in a mediated and modified form. While the ummah “below the winds” (Pr. zirbadat) in the bilad al-jawa (Ar. the lands of the Jawa) resembles its Middle Eastern antecedents, it displays distinguishing local features. As a conduit of circulating Islam, Patani was one of Southeast Asia’s many port city-states which both attracted and produced a range of creole personalities. Many of these became influential ambassadors for Islam there. Like its predecessor Langkasuka, Patani became an important commercial hub on the Thai/Malay peninsula where goods, technologies—and ideas—were exchanged. While Patani possessed large quantities of aromatic wood products (King, 2006), her role in the Indian Ocean trade was primarily linked to its harbour. As well as providing protection from the north-eastern and south-western monsoons, Patani’s harbour was also close to a number of trans-peninsula trading routes that were Patani’s westward link to the outside world (Map 2.2). The importance of these trans-peninsula routes increased once sailing technology permitted Chinese ships to reach the Malay peninsula directly from southern Vietnam. Preferring as they did ports closer to China, Patani became the favoured port by Chinese traders. The absence of reliable winds, and the presence of pirates and Portuguese following the capture of Melacca in 1511, led many to abandon the Straits of Melacca. Goods from Arabia or India crossed the Bay of Bengal by the shortest route via northern Sumatra before reaching the Malay peninsula in present-day Kedah where they were transported overland to warehouses in Patani.

6

For more on Arabic cosmopolis see Gould (2008, pp. 540–543). One of the best known is lebai, a Tamil term (leppai or lappai) referring to petty religious functionaries such as those who perform the azan. 8 For an excellent recent study of the multiple linguistic influences on modern Malay see Tham Seong Chee (1990) and James Sneddon (2003). 7

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Map 2.2 Trans-peninsula trade routes Source: Jacq-Hergoualc’h (2002: Document 17)

Well before the fall of Melacca, creole ambassadors had visited Pattani. By far the most famous of these was Sheik Said of Pasai, who was credited with persuading Raja Phaya Tu Antara to accept Islam. The relationship between Pasai and Pattani is corroborated by the earliest known tombstones in Patani, which bear a trope known as Batu Aceh that originated in north Sumatra and was exported to the Malay peninsula in the late 1400s or early 1500s (Bougas, 1986; Othman Yatim, 1988). From the thirteenth century onwards, port city-states like Pasai played pivotal roles in the spread of Islam throughout Southeast Asia (Bradley, 2006, p. 49). Muslims were strongly represented in the emerging merchant classes of Southeast Asian port cities, contributing to regional prosperity. The Muslim domination of international networks meant that business contracts followed Islamic legal imperatives. Muslim communities naturally prospered, which furthered the incremental process of Islamisation (Johns, 1995, p. 172). Hourani and Stern (1970) argue that Islam provided a framework for the blossoming of intellectual and economic activity which facilitated the emergence of a middle-class. In Islamic cities, the mutual interdependence between “bourgeois”

Initial Adhesion and Adoption

33

ulama nexus, merchants and Islamic educational institutions brought about a new culture in which Islam was the cohesive force. By adopting Islam, merchants increased their mobility. This achieved by highly localised Austronesian being replaced by new strategies for navigate the supernatural world as they travelled further afield (Reid, 1999, p. 158). Finally, trade and the Southeast Asian expansion of Islam were both related to the antagonism between Muslim and European merchants. In such a context the adoption of Islam may have represented a form of resistance (Bradley, 2006, p. 85). The relative peace of the fifteenth century dramatically changed with the fall of Melacca in 1511 that led to the revival of the trans-peninsula trade routes (Reid, 1988, p. 59). It is no coincidence that Patani’s prosperity peaked between 1584 and 1688 (Bougas, 1990, p. 115).

Initial Adhesion and Adoption The timing of the Patani Raja’s acceptance of Islam is debated by scholars. Carool Kersten (2004, p. 2), following Alijah Gordon (2001), argues for 1457. Bradley (2006, p. 69) cites Portuguese explorer Juan de Eredia’s claims that Islam had been accepted in Patani before Melacca (1413). Bougas also argues for an earlier acceptance of Islam, in the late 1300s, or early 1400s. He claims that this position is supported by Patani’s role in propagating the faith in other parts of Southeast Asia (1994, p. 77). Shaykh Abdul Wahid Syarit Sulaiman al-Fatani is reputed to have traveled to Buton in Southeast Sulawesi where he taught locals following their recent adoption to Islam (Pelras, 1985, p. 112, cited in Bougas, 1994, p. 34). Hikayat Patani mentions that wandering sages visited Patani in the second half of the sixteenth century. One of these was Mawlana Malik Ibrahim, who reportedly preached and built an Islamic propagation centre in Kruset before proceeding to East Java where he became one of the Wali Sanga (Azra, 2004, pp. 123, 124). The account of Raja Phaya Tu Antara’s acceptance of Islam supplied by Hikayat Patani begins with his pledge to do so as Shaykh Said of Pasai had successfully cured him of a skin disease. After being miraculously cured, the raja reneged. This happened once more before he made good on his word and recited the confession of faith (Ar. shahadah). Following this, Shaykh Said bestowed upon Raja Phaya Tu Antara the new title of Sultan Ismail Syah Zillulah Fil-’Alam. However, Hikayat Patani mentions that, “As for the King himself it is true that he became a Muslim inasmuch as he gave up worshipping idols and eating pork; but apart from that he did not alter a single one of his heathen habits” (Teeuw & Wyatt, 1970, p. 152). Although the raja pragmatically adopted Islam to keep his promise to Sheik Said, he preserved animist traditions such as worshipping trees and stones and making offerings to spirits (Teeuw & Wyatt, 1970 p. 155). Dorarirajoo cites the adoption of Islam by this raja as a form of negotiation with external forces that maximises personal benefit. She argues that this is an important motif in the history of Patani (2002, pp. 11–12). For example, Patani sought to safeguard her prosperity by maintaining tributary relations with both Ayutthaya and Melacca (Bougas, 1994, p. 77; Suwannathat-Pian, 1988, pp. 6–7;

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Wan Kadir Che Man, 1994, p. 117). Such an initial minimalist adoption of Islam— without a rigorous adherence to all its prescriptions—was common during the initial period of Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion. Nehemia Levtzion (1979) refers to this as an adhesion to Islam.9 In Southeast Asia, such adhesions involved taking a Muslim name, forsaking pork, destroying idols, the circumcision of men, and short male hair (Laffan, 2003, p. 12). David Parkin expresses similar sentiments to Levtzion by pointing out that “conversion” erroneously presupposes a shift from one unambiguously defined religion to another. Alternatives such as “acceptance” or “adhesion” (in the sense of joining something bigger) bring into focus that pre-existing cosmologies are not always immediately abandoned (2000, p. 3). Raja Phaya Tu Antara’s religious legitimacy was not derived from his personal expertise in Islam, but from the palace’s circle of “Brahmin-like” ulama (Shamsul, 2005, p. 164). Compatibility between Indo-Persian models of kingship to those in Southeast Asia assisted the adoption of, and adhesion to, Islam in Southeast Asia. Rajas were transformed into “just kings” (Ar. ‘Malik al-Adil’), a title that appears on mas kijang coins minted in the seventeenth century (Bougas, 1994, p. 32).10 The name given to the raja included the Persian terms Shah (Pr. King) and Zillulah Fil‘Alam (Pr. God’s Shadow on Earth) (Bougas, 1994, p. 30). Islam’s support for the institution of kingship developed from its close early contacts with Persian courts. Space here does not permit a treatment of the many claims and counterclaims concerning the role of Sufism in the Islamisation of Southeast Asia.11 The importance of Sufism at the time relates to its unifying function following the fall of the Baghdad caliphate in mid-seventeenth century. As already demonstrated, Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion began soon afterwards. The monistic treatises of Ibn ‘Arabi (d. 1240 CE) are among the earliest extant manuscripts from north Sumatra (Johns, 1995, p. 169). The Arab/Indian creole ambassadors who arrived from South India introduced a form of Islam which had been embedded in their respective communities. Kirk Endicott has argued that the form of Sufism practised during this period had undergone changes through the incorporation of Hindu, Buddhist and animistic elements (1970, p. 43). The circulating Islam therefore produced a form of Islam which was “well-adapted to the culture of Southeast Asia and played a crucial part in Islam’s rapid spread in the sixteenth century” (Bradley, 2006, p. 109).

9

Cited in Laffan (2003, p. 12). Other Persian influences still discernable in Southeast Asian Islam include the Jawi script closely resembling Persian, and the preparation of ashura, which coincides with Shiite commemorates of the martyrdom of Hussein. The hikayat genre is also of Persian origin, although it has long been integrated into the mainland Muslim culture. Although hikayat resembled epic genres which already existed, these begun to be adapted a century after first appearing in Pasai (Bradley 2006, p. 10). For more on the Persian influence see Marrison (1955). 11 Johns (1961) and Syed Naguib Al-Attas (1969) have most famously argued for the importance of the agency of Sufism, specifically the Qadiriyah and Naqshabandiah orders. Johns regards Sufis accompanying merchant trading guilds as missionary preachers active in proselytism (Johns 1961, pp. 33–35). 10

Patani Post-1785: From Malay Kerajaan to Thai Province

35

Lois Golomb comments that while orthodox Sunnis of the Shafiite madhhab are assumed to have come to the Malay world, few Malays could have been considered orthodox Sunnis until the beginning of the twentieth century. Rather most adhered to a form of Islam which was thoroughly infected with elements of Sufi mysticism that “appealed to the Malay common folk” (1985a, p. 9). Farish Noor refers to the connections between the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia as the first wave of Indianisation. In the thirteenth century this was followed by a second that featured Indian teachers, scholars who “happened to be Muslim”. The effect of this was that a further layer of Indianised culture, values and norms were added to an “already cosmopolitan society that was in many respects open to external cultural influences and hybrid in its composition”. Like their Hindu and Buddhist counterparts, Indian Muslims did more than bring a new religion. They gave Southeast Asian Islam its “distinctively fluid, dynamic, and Sufi-inspired character” (Noor, 2007b, pp. 10, 12).

Patani Post-1785: From Malay Kerajaan to Thai Province In this chapter’s second section the process through which the Malay Kingdom of Patani became the Thai provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat in the modern nation-state of Thailand is described (summarised in Table 2.1; Fig. 2.1). The Malay Kingdom (SM. kerajaan) of Patani had for centuries been a vassal of Ayutthaya. Ligor (modern day Nakhon Si Thammarat) represented Ayutthaya’s interests in the south.12 As a vassal of Ayutthaya, Patani sent bunga mas and manpower (Bougas, 1994, p. 77). Suwannathat-Pian describes this as a diplomatic system that regulated interactions between unequal political units. Under these relatively peaceful conditions Patani retained a great deal of religious, cultural and political freedom (1988, pp. 6–7). Apart from records mentioning Sultana Hijau (1584–1616) sending bunga mas to Ayutthaya, Wan Kadir Che Man claims that there is scant evidence of the strength of Ayutthaya’s authority over Patani. Although Davisakd Puaksom insists that Patani was firmly in Ayutthaya’s grasp (2008), the latter undoubtedly experienced periods of independence. When Patani was strong and/or Ayutthaya was weak, subservience was as unnecessary as it was unreasonable (Wan Kadir Che Man, 1994, p. 117). Patani also engaged in tributary relations with Melacca in the mid-1400s. By doing so, was Patani’s recognising Melacca’s hegemony over the Malay peninsula, or seeking to distance herself from Ayutthaya? Bougas suggests that both were motivations (1994, p. 77). The history of the Malay Sultanate of Patani is divided between the Patani and Kelantan dynasties. The former (1547–1688) consisted of five sultans and four

12 For more on Thai influence on the Thai/Malay peninsula which included present-day Kelantan, Terengganu and Kedah see Suwannathat-Pian (1986, 1988).

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2 Indic, Islamic and Thai Influences Table 2.1 Administrative organisation of Patani/Pattani from 1500

Period 1500–1816

Administrative organisation 1. The Malay Kingdom of Patani 1.1. Patani Dynasty (1500–1686)

1.2. Kelantan Dynasty (1688–1815)

1816–1906

1906–1932 1932-

2. Huamuang Patani (Th. Boriwen Chet Huamuang) 3. Monthon Pattani 4. The Southern Provinces of Thailand

Details

Sultan Ismail Syah (1500–1530) Sultan Muzaffar Syah (1530–1564) Sultan Mansur Syah (1564–1572) Sultan Patik Siam (1572–1573) Sultan Bahadur Syah (1573–1584) Rajah Hijau (1584–1616) Rajah Biru (161.6–1623) Rajah Ungu (1623–1635) Rajah Kuning (1635–1686) Raja Bakal (1688–1690) Raja (E) Mas Kelantan (1690–1707) Raja (E) Mas Jaya (1707–1710) Raja Dewi (1710–1719) Raja Bendang Badan (1719–1723) Raja Laksamana Dajang (1723–1724) Raja (E) Mas Jayam (1724–1726) Along Yunus (1726–1729) Sultan Muhammad (1776–1786) Tengku Lamiddin (1787–1791) Datok Pangkalan (1791–1810) Nhai Khuang Sai (1810–1815) Patani, Nong Cik, Jering, Jalur, Teluban, Reman, Legeh Patani, Yala, Saiburi, Menara Pattani, Yala, Narathiwat, Songkhla

Adapted from Mohammad Zamberi Abdul Malek (1993, pp. 169, 170–171)

sultanas.13 Upon the death of the heirless Sultana Kuning, a member of the Kelantan royal family was installed as the first ruler of the Kelantan Dynasty which lasted until 1729 (Wan Kadir Che Man, 1994, p. 117). Patani’s economic demise began in the late 1680s, as a result of ongoing power struggles between members of the mercantile class, or orang kaya, and the new Kelantanese rulers. Not only did the resultant disruptions to trade lead many merchants to choose alternate ports, Portuguese and Dutch ascendancy in the wider region from the 1640s also altered trading patterns that further eroded Patani’s economy.

13 Those interested in Patani’s rajahs are encouraged to consult a recent study by Stefan Amirell (2011).

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Fig. 2.1 Vandalised road sign with the second “t” in Pattani removed

Patani’s vassal relationship with Ayutthaya ceased with Ayutthaya’s defeat by the Burmese in 1767. In 1785, soon after the inauguration of the Bangkok period, the first ruler of the Chakri dynasty (Rama I) annexed Patani. Patani’s palace, main town (PM. bana, SM. bandar) and port located around the present-day Kruset mosque were all completely destroyed (Map 2.3). A 50-year period followed during which a number of brutal campaigns between Patani and Bangkok were waged.14 After brief spells in Kelantan and Pujut, the raja built a palace and mosques were rebuilt in Cabetigo. From 1791, Patani was administered from Songkhla (PM. segoro), but maintained almost total independence. Not only was Songkhla incapable of exerting any real authority, but its ruler also revolted against Bangkok. In 1816, Bangkok eventually divided Patani into seven provinces (Th. huamuang). In 1906, King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) replaced these seven huamuang with the monthon system that was administered through Nakhon Si Thammarat. During Chulalongkorn’s reign, policies of modernisation, centralisation of power, territorial 14

For more on this period see Bradley (2009a, pp. 114–188, 2009b, 2010).

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Map 2.3 Location of palace in Kruset in relation to modern-day Pattani and Cabetigo Source: Bougas (1990)

consolidation, and the bureaucratisation of administration were pursued throughout Siam. This has been described as Chulalongkorn’s policy of “internal colonialism” (Wan Kadir Che Man, 1990a, p. 7), through which he attempted to avoid being colonised by either Britain or France. On March 10, 1909 Chulalongkorn signed the Anglo-Siamese Treaty which ceded Kelantan, Terengganu, Perlis and parts of Kedah to the United Kingdom. In return, the British recognised Siamese authority over the regions situated further north, and parts of Kedah that are parts of Thai provinces of Satun and Trang (see Marks, 1997; Nik Anuar Nik Mahmud, 1988; Suwannathat-Pian, 1988). The political integration of the Siamese Malay-dominated far-south continued in earnest following the signing of the Anglo-Siamese treaty. Many of Bangkok’s initiatives were resisted. Not only did a distinct Malay-Muslim ethno-religious identity and geographic contiguity with the northern Malay states exist, but Thai nationalism also clashed with nascent Malay nationalism across this new border (Pitsuwan, 1985; Roff, 1967). For instance Chulalongkorn’s successor, King Vajiravudh (Rama VI) (1910–1925), formulated a nationalist ideology based on allegiance to the Thai nation, king and Buddhism (Vella, 1978). Although Islamic legal autonomy in matters concerning marriage and inheritance for Muslims in the deep south was established by royal decree in 1911, the most significant initiative during this period was the Compulsory Primary Education Act of 1921. Although unsuccessfully implemented, this required children throughout the kingdom to attend a Siamese primary school for 4 years (Wan Kadir Che Man, 1994, p. 119).

Patani Post-1785: From Malay Kerajaan to Thai Province

39

In 1929, Bangkok ordered that Islamic family and inheritance laws must be translated and codified into Thai. Despite their insistence that this was motivated by the need for unity, this was interpreted as a veiled attempt to replace Malay as the language of Islam. Should Bangkok be successful, many of its other initiatives would be accelerated. Although Bangkok proposed that Islamic judges (PM. tok kodi, Th. dato’ yutitham) who had mastered Thai would sit alongside and co-sign judgements with their Thai counterparts, this never eventuated. Surin Pitsuwan argues that Malay non-cooperation in this mammoth undertaking was primarily motivated by suspicions that through it, Siamese authorities sought to usurp their religious authority, intrude on the sacred ground of the shariah, and establish Thai as the language of Islam (1985, p. 136).15 In 1932, the Thai absolute monarchy was abolished and replaced with a constitutional monarchy. Also abolished in 1932 was the monthon system. Pattani became a province of the Kingdom of Siam. Less vigorous assimilation policies followed until the military takeover by extreme nationalist General Phibul Songkhram in 1938 (Suwannathat-Pian, 1995, 1996). Phibul’s governments (1938–1944 and 1948–1957) promulgated a range of ultra-nationalist initiatives, the effects of which lasted for decades (Kersten, 2004, p. 11). The name of the country was changed to Thailand. This was in large part motivated by a desire to distinguish the Thai race from other ethnic minorities.16 In 1939, the government not only attempted to enforce the Compulsory Primary Education Act, but also promulgated the notorious Thai Custom Decree (Thai Rathaniyom) that attempted to impose Thai and “modern” behaviours and dress. Designations other than “Thai” were banned as part of Bangkok’s attempts to homogenise Thai society through allegiance to the Thai nation, king and Buddhism. Henceforth, Malays were referred to as “Thai Muslims”. There was also renewed promotion of the Thai language, and “modern” and “Thai” behaviours and etiquette. Malays were forbidden to wear traditional clothing, and provisions permitting issues pertaining to marriage and inheritance to be heard in Islamic courts were revoked. Non-Buddhists were discriminated against and there were attempts to proselytise Malays attending government schools. All these amounted to a thoroughgoing intrusion into the private and public lives of the Malays of South Thailand.

15 The Chief Judge of Satun, Luang Prapai Pitayakun, a member of the committee to codify and translate the law, wrote a report to the Ministry of Justice, an extract of which is found below: “When the dato’ yutitham received the instructions from the Chief Judge of the Southern Region [. . .] they explained that they could not possibly finish their assignments in such a short period (5 months). The reason was that the rules applied in the marriage and inheritance cases usually were not taken directly from the Holy Koran. They were rather taken from a collection of the exegeses of the Holy Koran which were called kitab. And there were dozens of authors who wrote scores of kitab with various names and length. Some kitab gave only the principles and others gave details. Some kitab might contain different rules from others” (Pitsuwan, 1985, p. 136). 16 As a result of massive immigration, Chinese were now Thailand’s largest minority, who General Phibul Songkhram infamously compared to the Jews in Germany.

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Assimilation Through Legislation Post-1945 Following World War II, the new constitution of the government led by Pridi Phanomyong repelled aggressive cultural assimilation policies and the Thai Custom Decree. However, the integration of the south continued in 1945 in the form of the Patronage of Islam Act. This established the King of Thailand as the patron of Islam in Thailand, and mandated the creation of a Central Islamic Committee of Thailand headed by the Chularajamontri (or Shaykh al-Islam) under the Ministry of Interior. Based on how successfully Bangkok had managed to control Buddhism through the Sangkharat (Tambiah, 1976), Pitsuwan argues that control—not patronage—was the main objective (1985, p. 103). Southern Malays have historically rejected the legitimacy of the past Chularajamontris. In part, this is due to a preference for local ulama, such as Shaykh Muhammad Sulong bin Abdul Kadir bin Muhammad al-Fatani (Haji Sulong) (1895–1954). Yusuf refers to Haji Sulong as being de facto Shaykh al-lslam during his tenure as head of the Islamic Council of Pattani Province (SM. Majlis Agama Islam) (1998, quoting Pitsuwan, 1985, p. 1145).17 The importance of Pattani’s Malay ulama relates to the marginalisation and eventual removal of the Malay royalty. The son of the last Sultan of Pattani, Abdul Kadir Kamaruddeen (1877–1933), Tengku Mahmud Mahyiddeen (1908–1954), unsuccessfully campaigned with the British during World War II for Pattani’s inclusion into British Malaya (Wilson, 1989, 1992) at the conclusion of the war. While Patani had once derived prosperity, power and pride from its palace, market and mosque, now only the mosque remained. On August 24, 1947 Haji Sulong led his most famous protests against Bangkok’s intervention in Islamic affairs in the form of seven demands.18 Soon afterwards, Muslim leaders in Satun and Narathiwat provinces sent similar petitions. In November 1947, a coup engineered by Phibul Songkhram placed Khuang Aphaivong in the position of Premier. In January 1948, Haji Sulong was arrested, followed soon after by the arrest of his sons. This led to demonstrations, resulting in the temporary banning of the Provincial Islamic Council of Pattani. In April 1948, Field Marshall Phibul Songkhram again became Prime Minister (until 1957). Soon afterwards, the Duson Nyor incident occurred in which at least 400 Malays were

17

Those interested in the history of the Chularajamontri should consult Marcinkowski (2003) and Yusuf (1998, 2010). 18 The demands were: (1) A single individual from the four southern provinces be made responsible for their administration; (2) 80% of government servants in the four southern provinces be Muslims; (3) both Malay and Thai should be the official languages; (4) Malay should be the medium of instruction in primary schools; (5) Muslim law should be both recognised and enforced in separate courts, and that an Islamic judge should also sit as an assessor in civil courts; (6) revenues derived from the four southern provinces should be utilised by them; (7) the formation of all Muslim affairs should be under the authority of the head of the four southern provinces (Farouk Bajunid, 1987, p. 263). For more on Haji Sulong’s seven demands see (Aphornsuvan, 2008).

Assimilation Through Legislation Post-1945

41

killed, and thousands of others fled to Malaysia.19 In 1952, after 4 years in detention, Haji Sulong was released. He disappeared in 1954 at the hands of the police. His body was never found. Legislation promulgated between 1960 and 1971 forced traditional ponok (SM. pondok) schools to register as “Private Schools Teaching Islam” (PSTI) (Th. rongrian soon satsana Islam). These schools taught both the Thai national curriculum and religious subjects.20 The severity of the Malay response to this initiative testifies to the fact that ponok schools were already more than conduits of religious education: they maintained local Malay identity and performed a wide range of social and religious functions (Madmarn, 1989, 1990, 2003; Narongraksakhet, 2005). In the 1960s, the number of southern Malays who pursued Islamic education in the Middle East and South Asia dramatically increased. This ironically resulted in the state having even less control over Islamic education. This exodus coincided with a range of global developments that have often unhelpfully been bundled together as “Islamic resurgence”. The most important of these were the Iranian Islamic revolution and Saudi acquisition of economic power with which Saudi Arabia sought to counter resurgent Shi’ism. In the 1970s, the Thai government built mosques in Satun, Yala and Narathiwat. Not only are Thai flags prominently placed in these, but their minarets resemble lotus flowers which is a Buddhist symbol of the heart (Pitsuwan, 1988). There were also renewed attempts to de-ethicise Malay adherence of Islam in the far-south by referring to Malays as Thais who professed Islam, or “Thai Muslims”. Armed separatism was at its height in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat in the decades before General Prem Tinsulanonda (1980–88) came to power. The Prem governments of the 1980s ceased assimilation policies, and supported Muslim cultural rights and religious freedoms. Amnesties with a range of separatist organisations were negotiated, and an economic development plan for the south implemented. The National Security Policy for the Southern Border Provinces was also established, which proved to be instrumental in dramatic improvements in border security.21 While every Thai parliament since 1932 had included Muslim representation, this representation increased in the 1990s (Farouk Bajunid, 2005, p. 13). Wan Muhammad Nor Mata, a member of parliament from Yala, was the president of the Thai National Assembly from 1996 to 2001 and signed the 1997 Thai Constitution. Duncan McCargo has argued that the political careers of southern Malays such as Wan Muhammad Nor Mata, Muk Sulaiman and Haji Sulong’s son Den Tohmeena are paradigmatic examples of Thai co-option of local Malay elites. This eventually led to a crisis over their political legitimacy following the rise of violence in 2004 in which they were conspicuously absent (2008, pp. 55–87). From the late 1980s, 19

On Duson Nyor see Chaiwat Satha-Anand’s treatment (2006). The most important studies of Islamic education in South Thailand include those by Dulyakasem (1981, 1991), Liow (2005, 2009a, 2009b), Madmarn (1990), Narongraksakhet (2005), Scupin (1989). 21 These developments were intimately connected with the negotiated ending to the Malaysian emergency and surrender of the Malaysian and Thai communist parties. 20

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many concessions were made to Muslims throughout the kingdom: Muslim names could be officially registered; the hijab could be worn in government institutions and public service (Satha-Anand, 1994); Muslim prayer rooms were provided in strategic public places, including the parliament building (Farouk Bajunid, 2005, p. 12); the Haj was sponsored by the government; and permission was given for Islamic banking to be established. Without sacrificing either their commitment to Islam or their Muslim identity, Muslims in Thailand have identified with various expressions of Thai nationalism. A range of Muslim institutions also exist in Thailand. All these are conducted in Thai linguistic and cultural forms through which a Thai Muslim identity has been constructed and maintained. Over and above the office of the Chularajamontri, these include Muslim societies and associations (Prapertchob, 2001; Satha-Anand, 2001), newspapers, radio, TV programs, and websites. Islamic literature in Thai is plentiful, and a number of Thai translations of the Qur’an and hadith also exist.22 The owner of one of Pattani’s Islamic presses informed me that over 70% of the religious literature currently produced is in Thai. Not only does this dramatically demonstrate that Thai has become a second language of Islam for many Malays, but this also contrasts past refusals by Malay ulama to translate Islamic law into Thai. All these changes testify to Islam in Thailand having acquired its own Thai characteristics (see Scupin, 1986, 1988, 1998, 2003). Indeed, some claim Muslims in Thailand enjoy greater religious freedom than in other countries. Although Omar Farouk has claimed that the integration of Thailand’s southern Malays has been achieved without connections been lost with the Malay world (2005, p. 2), as is demonstrated in the following chapter increasing numbers of urban Malays prefer communicating in Thai.

Revolution and Reform in the Hijaz The financial ruin and moral decay that afflicted Patani in the late seventeenth century (Bradley, 2009a) was followed by Patani’s catastrophic defeat in 1785. The late eighteenth century was also a time of religious revolution and reform in the Middle East. As is well known, in the late 1700s Muhammad Ibn Saud (d. 1765) and a Hanbalite scholar inspired by Ibn Taymiyya, Muhammad bin Abd al-Wahhab (d. 1787), formed an alliance that is commonly referred to as the Wahhabiyyah movement.23 After a series of victories in the early nineteenth century,

22 Scupin summarises the four extant Thai translations of the Qur’an having been completed by: (1) Direk Kulsiriswasd; (2) Tuan Suannarsard (a former Chularajamontri) patronised and financed by the Thai royal family; (3) Marwan Sama Oon and Barlcat Siamwalla; (4) the Committee of the former Thai students of the Islamic seminaries in the Arab world (Scupin, 1998, p. 252). 23 The most fundamental inadequacies of references to “Wahhabis” is its imprecise employment by most journalists and some academics to describe a range of groups adhering to an austere and puritanical version of Islam.

Revolution and Reform in the Hijaz

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including occupations of Mecca (1803) and Medina (1805), Wahhabiyyah forces were defeated in 1818 by an Egyptian viceroy sent by the Ottoman Caliph. The speed with which these developments impacted Southeast Asia is illustrated by the Padri wars in West Sumatra. This conflict derives its name from references by Dutch authorities that the protagonists were returning hajis that they referred to as Islamic “padres”. Having witnessed the occupations of Mecca and Medina, attempts were made to assert a puritanical expression of “scripturalist piety over the prevailing social order” in Southeast Asia (Laffan, 2003, p. 399). At the height of colonial power in the Middle East and South Asia in the early twentieth century, Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (1838–1898) and Muhammad Abduh (1849–1905) birthed Islamic modernism. A protégé of Muhammad Abduh, Muhammad Rashid Rida (1865–1935) became a key figure in the nascent Salafiyyah movement. Although initially concerned with modernisation, religious reform soon became another of Rida’s key concerns. While the Wahhabiyyah—who refer to themselves as Unitarians (Ar. muwahhidun)—have historically been revivalist Hanbalites of the Arabian peninsula, the Salafiyyah drew from all four madhhab (Ar. schools of Islamic jurisprudence). By virtue of its lack of formal organisation, the Salafiyyah might best be referred to as a movement or theological method. Indeed reference to “organisation” is avoided, implying as it does that Islam is deficient in some way. The principal elements of the Salafiyyah method (Ar. manhaj) are the authoritative example of the seventh century salaf al-salih, ijtihad (Ar. independent interpretation) over taqlid (Ar. blind imitation), the eradication of bid’ah (Ar. illegitimate religious innovation), and mentoring (Ar. mulazamah) by Middle Eastern leaders.24 The Egyptian modernist journal al-Manar (The Lighthouse), edited by Rida from 1898, inspired Jawi publications such as al-Imam (The Leader) that was published in Singapore between 1906 and 1908.25 That one of al-Imam goals was the dissemination of al-Manar’s reformist agenda in the Malay world is demonstrated by the fact that many of its articles (sometimes elaborate) were Malay translations of articles from al-Manar. With a circulation that peaked at 5,000, al-Imam was the most widely read journal in the Malay world before World War II. Following its demise in 1908, a number of other modernist publications were produced, such as the alMunir (The Illuminating) which was published in Padang, West Sumatra for 5 years from 1911. The 1920s were a tumultuous decade in the Muslim world which witnessed, among other things, the demise of the Ottoman caliphate and return of the Wahhabiyyah who conquered Mecca and Medina in 1924. Both these developments impacted the entire Islamic world. Javanese traditionalists were deeply disturbed by Wahhabiyyah’s actions. Not only were there many Javanese fatalities in Mecca and

24 Although comparisons have been made between the Salafiyyah Protestantisms, these have recently been criticised by Salafism and Protestantism Syed Farid Al-Attas (2007, p. 515). 25 For more on al-Iman see Abu Bakar Hamzah (1991) and Azra (1999).

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Medina, but the tombs of saints were also destroyed which were the centre of pilgrimages (Ar. ziarah). While reformists hailed the eradication of such bid’ah (Ar. illegitimate innovation), the events led to the exodus of large numbers of Southeast Asian traditionalists. In January 1926, 12 Javanese ‘ulama formed Nahdlatul Ulama (NU) (Id. the awakening of the ulama). NU’s initial goal was the support of refugees and the commissioning of a Javanese delegation to Mecca to express their concerns. NU was established 14 years after Muhammadiyah was established by Kiai Haji Ahmad Dahlan in 1912. The Muhammadiyah sought to propagate Muhammad Abduh’s modernist agenda among Muslims living under colonial rule in the Dutch East Indies. Starting from the Straits Settlements in the late 1800s, modernists and reformists on the Malay peninsula were referred to as the kaum muda (SM. the new group) who opposed the practices of the traditionalist constituency (SM. kaum tua).26 Finally in the 1920s, the Salafiyyah and Wahhabiyyah were joined under the leadership of Rashid Rida. Mark Sedgwick refers to this as Neo-Salafism (2005, p. 232).27 Through what processes and personalities did these developments impact Islamic thought and practice in Patani/Pattani? Summarised below are the contributions of three of the best known mobile Malay polyglots: Shaykh Daud b. Abdullah b. Idris al-Fatani (Shaykh Daud al-Fatani) (1740–1847), Shaykh Wan Ahmad b. Muhammad Zain Mustafa al-Fatani (Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani) (1856–1908), and Haji Sulong (1895–1954), whose political activism was mentioned above. Although Patani had long been connected to the Middle East through its participation in the Indian Ocean trade, this connection increased in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The replacement of sail boasts with steamers, and scribes with printing presses, revolutionalised transport and communication between Southeast Asia and the Hijaz.

Mecca’s Patani School Shaykh Daud b. Abdullah b. Idris al-Fatani (Shaykh Daud) was born in Kruset in 1769 and died in Ta’if in the Hijaz in 1847.28 Shaykh Daud fled Patani and travelled to Aceh where he studied for 2 years, before eventually arriving in the Hijaz. There he joined other seekers of knowledge and refugees from Patani, all of whom were his seniors. Although his earliest work was not published until 1809, he eventually penned more than 57 works. These covered many Islamic disciplines and

26

On the kaum muda and kaum tua on the Malay peninsula see Roff (1985, 1998). Sedgwick describes the neo-Salafism that developed from the late 1920s was a mixture of the Salafism encountered in Egypt and Damascus with the Wahhabism of the Hijaz (2005, p. 232). 28 Those interested in more details on Shaykh Daud should refer to Bradley (2010, pp. 189–271), Lukmanul Hakim Darusman (2010, pp. 335–405), and the (somewhat hagiographic) biographies written by his grandson, Wan Mohammad Saghir Abdullah (1990, 1992). 27

Mecca’s Patani School

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were printed in many parts of the Middle East and the Malay-Indonesian world (Azra, 2004, pp. 124, 126; Matheson & Hooker, 1988). He was also instrumental in establishing what Bradley refers to as “The Patani School” (2010). Shaykh Daud’s teachings are acknowledged as having been sustained and extended by his relative Shaykh Wan Ahmad bin Muhammad Zain Mustafa alFatani (Shaykh Ahmad). Sheykh Ahmad was born in 1856 in Kampung Sena Janjar, Patani and died in Mina in 1908.29 Connections between these two ulama besar of the Patani School began when Shaykh Ahmad’s father resettled in Mecca to work as Shaykh Daud al-Fatani’s copyist (Rahimmula, 1990, pp. 194, 258, 313). Rahimmula argues that as Sheykh Ahmad was born a generation after Patani’s final subjugation in 1838, he sought to preserve Patani’s Malay identity, language and culture, initially by reprinting the works of Shaykh Daud (1990, p. 191). For those possessing the financial means to do so, emigration (Ar. hijrah) to a Dar al-Islam (Ar. abode of Islam) was a religious obligation for a number of reasons, including the avoidance of religious persecution. (Ar. wajib) (see Liow, 2009a, p. 118). This explains the timing of the exodus of Shaykh Daud’s and Shaykh Ahmad’s families from Patani, which had become a Dar-al-Harb (Ar. abode of war). Shaykh Daud and Shaykh Ahmad travelled across the Indian Ocean well before the introduction of steamers and the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869. By the 1890s, smaller sailing vessels no longer took pilgrimages across the Indian Ocean (Laffan, 2003, p. 49). Steamers reduced a once arduous trip to 2 weeks. Steamers and Malay printing presses were crucial to Sheykh Ahmad’s career having the impact that he did. Upon completing his studies at Al-Azhar, Shaykh Ahmad lived with his family in Mecca. He would eventually become one of the leading scholars at Masjid al-Haram (Rahimmula, 1990, p. 309). On countless occasions Islamic scholars in Pattani have drawn my attention to Snouck Hurgronje having referred to Shaykh Ahmad as a “savant of merit” (1970, p. 286). Although less well known than Shaykh Daud, Malays in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat became aware of a range of religious developments in the Middle East through Shaykh Ahmad’s editorial, publishing, writing and teaching careers. In 1859, Shaykh Ahmad worked as a proofreader at a Malay printing press established by the Ottomans near the al-Azhar Mosque. By 1884, he was appointed chief editor of the newly established Malay section of the Ottoman Press (Rahimmula, 1990, p. 321). He also established the Patani ‘Ulama Association, which published Malay religious works. Shaykh Ahmad was a prolific author who wrote up to 160 original and annotated works in both Jawi and Arabic—the first Patani scholar to have done so (Rahimmula, 1990, p. 314). Edwin Wieringa comments that Shaykh Ahmad’s language in his Nur al-Mubin is “deeply imbued with Arabic”, a general characteristic of Kitab Jawi through which Arabic ideation entered the Malay lexicon (2009, p. 191).

29

The two most important studies on Shaykh Ahmad Al-Fatani are Ismail bin Yasmid (2008) and Rahimmula (1990).

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One of Shaykh Ahmad’s most important works is Kitab al-Fatawa alFataniyyah. This is a 220 page collection of judgments (Ar. fatwa) on a range of religious questions posed to him by Southeast Asian Muslims.30 Rahimmula claims that Sheykh Ahmad was the first in Mecca’s Patani School to establish a didactic genre based on answers written to questions received from the Malay peninsula. He also notes that many of the issues that these addressed were those that Siamese authorities had begun to interfere with at the time. Matheson and Hooker mention references in Kitab Al-Fatawa Al-Fataniyyah to the abolishment of the shariah (1988, p. 55). While Bangkok’s imposition of Thai secular law in the far-south did not include cases pertaining to family and inheritance laws cases, Wan Kadir Che Man points out that in these cases the decision of a Muslim judge was not final until it was agreed upon by the sitting Thai judge. While parties had the right to appeal to the Thai Superior Court, its judge was not a Muslim (1990b, p. 256). The development of such exchanges coincided with the distribution of al-Manar and Al-Imam in Southeast Asia. None of these would have occurred without the aforementioned developments in transport and communication across the Indian Ocean. Shaykh Ahmad was also a leading scholar in Mecca, who taught at Masjid alHaram. He was one of the few non-Arab ‘alim to have been appointed by the Sharif of Mecca to represent the Shafi’ite madhhab. One of Shaykh Ahmad’s most influential students, who studied under him for 17 years, was a Malay from Kelantan, Haji Muhammad Yusuf, who was best known as Tok Kenali (1868–1933). On returning to Kelantan in 1908, Tok Kenali became a prominent scholar. As well as a founding member of the Kelantan Religious Council, he also edited its fortnightly journal (Mohammad Redzuan Othman. 1998, p. 151).31 Rahimmula discerned the influence of Muhammad Abduh’s modernist ideas on Shaykh Ahmad’s pedagogy. For instance, he encouraged his students to keep informed about local politics and events by reading newspapers (1990, pp. 259, 344).

Resident Modernisers, Reformers and Revivalists Shaykh Ahmad died in 1908, a year after Haji Sulong arrived in Mecca.32 Unlike Shaykh Daud and Shaykh Ahmad, his most significant contribution to religion and politics in Pattani followed his relocation there in 1927. Haji Sulong’s ability to make a brief visit to Pattani during World War I testifies to the increased ease with which Southeast Asians (possessing the financial means to do so) travelled to and from Mecca. 30 This was the subject of Perayot Rahimmula’s Ph.D. thesis (1990), which is available as a large English translation. Although last printed in 1957, photocopied copies of these are still available in Islamic book shops in Pattani. 31 Those interested in reading more about Tok Kenali should refer to Abdullah al-Qari bin Haji Salleh (1974). 32 Confusingly, Joseph Liow claims that Haji Sulong studied under Shaykh Ahmad following his brief return to Patani in 1916, even though he notes that Shaykh Ahmad died in 1908 (2010, p. 36).

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Haji Sulong began teaching in the al-Haram Mosque at the time of the religious and political ferment described above. He was appointed as a junior lecturer in the Malay halaqah of Mecca’s Masjid Al-Haram. Haji Sulong joined the ranks of distinguished ‘alim at a time when some Southeast Asian scholars were leaving Mecca (Fox, 2004; Laffan, 2003, p. 223). James Ockey insists that anyone teaching in Mecca over this period would have been affected should their teachings not conform to the new dogma (2006). Nevertheless, it is unclear about when Wahhabiyyah dogma began to be enforced.33 By the time Haji Sulong returned to Pattani, he had not only witnessed the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, a world war, and the rise of nationalism, but what Ockey describes as the “strongest and most diverse revivalist movement to date” (2006). These appear to be allusions to the puritan, modernist and reformist movements of the Wahhabiyyah, Muhammad Abduh and Rashid Rida. Soon after his return to Pattani, Haji Sulong encountered a religious life which resembled the jahiliyya (Ar. time of ignorance) of pre-Islamic Arabia (Liow 2009a, p. 83). As a travelling preacher (Ar. Tabligh), he travelled throughout the far-south propagating Muhammad Abduh’s project of modernisation and reform. Key elements in his agenda were the modernisation of Islamic education, the reform of religious practice, and the implementation of modern political and legal systems (Yusuf, 1998, p. 286). Despite opposition from the kaum tua, Haji Sulong combined his concern for religious reform and modernisation by establishing Madrasah Al-Ma’arif Al-Wattaniah in 1933. This was the first modern Islamic school in Pattani following an alternative to the well-established traditional pondok model that Pattani was famous for. Haji Sulong strongly advocated ‘alim to possess a mandate for an involvement in more than purely religious matters. They also possessed a mandate to become involved in wider political leadership, as I have outlined above.34 His “abiding interest in political and social activism” preoccupied Haji Sulong for the rest of his life, and “catapulted him to a position of prominence as a leader of southern Thailand’s Malay community” (Liow, 2009a, p. 83). Shaykh Daud, Shaykh Ahmad and Haji Sulong were all mobile, multi-lingual personalities. All played some role in mediating the religious developments of their day. These dynamics are also discernable in present-day transnational revivalist and reformist movements that are now considered. The South Asian Tablighi Jama’at is widely regarded as the largest Muslim missionary and revivalist movement in the world today.35 Farish Noor’s 33

I wish to thank Muhammad Arafat bin Muhammad for drawing my attention to this. Note that these views resemble those of Nik Abdul Aziz bin Haji Nik Mat, the spiritual adviser (SM. Mursyidul Am) of PAS (SM. Parti Islam Se-Malaysia), better known as Nik Aziz. Farish Noor argues that his time at the famous Darul Uloom Madrasah in Deoband, North India convinced him that ‘ulama were the primary vehicles for addressing society s ills and that Islam had to be purified from accretions and innovations (2003, p. 207). 35 Horstmann (2007a, 2007b), Liow (2009c), and Noor (2007b, 2009b, 2009c) have provided the most important treatments of the Tablighi Juma’at in Thailand. 34

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reconstruction of arrival and establishment of the Tablighi Jama’at in Kelantan and South Thailand (2007a, 2009a, 2009b) highlights the role of mobile creole individuals and communities. The presence of South Asian peranakan (SM, mixed race) communities in major Southeast Asian trading cities was pivotal in the Tablighi’s modes of dissemination and network-building that began in the 1950s. These South Asian diasporic networks permitted this first wave of Tablighi missionaries to remain on familiar territory. In addition, they were also able to tap into “primordial ethnic and cultural attachments” that these communities still possessed. Noor considers such “piggy-backing” to have greatly assisted the speed of the Tablighi Jama’at’s entry into the peninsula and islands of Southeast Asia. Read in the context of Islam’s initial acceptance in Patani summarised above, this represents a recent example of a well-established pattern. In the overwhelmingly Malay locales of Kelantan and South Thailand, the liminal status of South Asians in Southeast Asia helped bridge the gap between global and local Islams (Noor 2007a, p. 9). The most important personality in this process was a medical doctor from Kelantan, Dr Haydar Ali Tajuddin bin Fateh Muhammad. Dr Haydar’s family had originally settled in north-east Malaya as cloth merchants during British colonial rule. His father’s business network extended to southern Thailand, where he had contributed to the construction of Pakistan mosques in Sungai Golok and Pattani. In 1974, Dr Haydar and his brothers introduced the Tablighi Jama’at into Kelantan. Soon after this, Masjid Lundang became their first markaz (Ur. centre). Three years later an operational base was set up in Masjid Muhammadiyah in the border town of Sungai Golok in the Thai province of Narathiwat. Upon reaching Yala, it was discovered that members of the Pakistani community at the Pakistan mosque (all of whom were nationalised Thai citizens) had already established the Tabligh there.36 The Pakistan mosque continued to serve as the Tablighi’s base until the construction of the 1.5 acre Masjid al-Nur. Commonly referred to simply as markaz besar, this is the largest Tablighi Markaz in Southeast Asia—and the fourth largest in the world (Noor, 2009c, pp. 9, 11). During the often violent late 1970s and early 1980s, the Tabligh Jama’at established itself in bases throughout South Thailand. Their 36 The Tabligh Juma’at was established in Bangkok in the 1920s through Pakistani immigrants, who in the 1950s also established Jam’ I-yatul-Islam, modelled on the subcontinent’s Jama’ati Islam (Scupin 1998, pp. 245–246). South Asians began to arrive in Thailand following the Bowring Treaty (1855) which granted extraterritorial privileges to British subjects in Thailand. The Anglo-Siamese treaty (1909) permitted British subjects to trade freely in Thailand. During Siam’s period of rapid modernisation, South Asians worked in jobs that indigenous Thais were untrained to do. Owing to their ability at reading English, Arabic, Hindi and Urdu, such jobs included working in Siam’s new postal service (Scupin 1998, pp. 244–245). South Asians in Thailand are also closely associated with the cattle and textile trades (See Sathian, 2004). Similarities in the conditions which facilitated Islamic reformism in Thailand to other parts of the Muslim world are noted by Scupin, who points to Bangkok’s urbanisation providing “the social conditions for the Islamic reform movement in Thailand” that attracted a “young, educated, urban-based social clientele”. Scupin also notes that “steady improvements in communications, especially printing, brought Thai Muslims into closer touch with centers of Islamic reformism in the Middle East, South Asia, and other Islamic areas of South-East Asia” (Scupin, 1998, p. 252).

Resident Modernisers, Reformers and Revivalists

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position was sufficiently consolidated by the time improvements in the security situation in the mid-1980s permitted them to further expand. Joseph Liow describes the Tabligh in South Thailand as mobile, decentralised, and transnational. He also claims that their network there includes 800 mosques and 127 halaqah (Ar. study circles). There are also 21 mosques which organise khuruj (Ur. mission trips) through shura councils which vet candidates. These khuruj range from 3 days to 4 months, and go to places ranging from nearby districts to overseas countries. Liow also claims that the Tablighi regularly travel to most (if not all) villages in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat (2009c, pp. 196, 198). The Tablighi Jama’at’s emphasis on sustained face-to-face oral contact with Muslims communities in South Thailand is not the only reason for its success. As well as being avowedly apolitical, they also avoid religious controversies, something that distinguishes them from local Salafism. Finally, the Tablighi Jama’at have been able to recruit from a massive pool of unemployed or under-employed young people as their involvement significantly bolsters their cultural capital.37 In what ways is the modern Salafiyyah movement in South Thailand similar to, and distinct from, the Tablighi Jama’at? While the Tablighi Jama’at is most active among Muslim minorities, the modern Salafiyyah movement is most active in Muslim-majority contexts. Although Haji Sulong (widely acknowledged as the Salafiyyah movement’s best-known and earliest advocate) initially worked as a Tabligh, or travelling preacher, he did so before the adoption by the modern Salafiyyah movement of a more top-down and capital intensive modus operandi.38 In contrast to the Tablighi Jama’at’s emphasis on face-to-face contact and grassroots activism, local Salafiyyah pursued a policy of co-opting existing educational institutions and establishing new ones. A number of PSTI in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat are firmly Salafiyyah in orientation, as is the PSU’s College of Islamic Studies. A paradigmatic example is the establishment of new institutions is Yala Islamic University, which is Thailand’s first Islamic University.39 Salafiyyah influence has also grown through a range of charities that promote Islamic knowledge, and advocate the elimination of local practices viewed as either shirk (Ar. idolatry) or bid’ah (Ar. illegitimate innovation). The principal articulator and unofficial head of Salafiyyah reformism in South Thailand is the founding rector of Yala Islamic University, Saudi-educated Dr.

37

Alexander Horstmann, in his study of the Tabligh Jama’at in Nakhon Si Thammarat, regards the Tabligh Jama’at as central to the reformist project of eradicating practices of Hindu origin, through pressuring villagers to drop traditions, discontinue rituals and dismiss folk-culture (2005, p. 111). This many be the case in Nakhon Si Thammarat, but this is not the nature of the Tabligh Juma’at’s activities in Cabetigo. 38 Other early Salafiyyah advocates include Jahi Abdullah Benaekebong and Ustaz Abdullah Chinarong, the first known locally as Abdullah India owing to his religious training in Deoband, India (Liow, 2009c, p. 201). 39 The establishment of the Yala Islamic University was sponsored by the Saudi-based Islamic Development Bank, the Saudi Ministry of Religious Affairs, the King of Qatar, the King of Kuwait, as well as private donors from Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates.

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Ismail Lutfi Japakiya.40 Although Lutfi’s influence is enhanced by his natural charisma, fluency in Arabic and Saudi education, he also benefits from what might be referred to as his babo pedigree. His family owns Bamrong Islam Witthaya School situated in the village of Brao, 15 km south of Pattani. Under the leadership of his father, Babo Abdurrahman Japakiya, Bamrong Islam was a traditionalist PSTI. It is now the principal conduit of Saudi-style reformism in South Thailand. The importance of Brao is demonstrated when Cabetigo residents routinely refer to “Wahhabis” as ore brao. Unlike his traditionalist counterpart, Ismail Sepanjang, Lutfi makes extensive use of modern technology. His regular addresses are recorded and made available on local radio, CDs, Video CDs (VCDs) and even YouTube. Many assessments of Lutfi and the Saudi-style Salafism he has been propagating since returning to Pattani in the early 1990s have been made. He is a vocal opponent of violent separatism. Not only was he the first to refute the Jihadi manual Berjihad di Pattani, but he was the only one to do so in Malay (Ismail Lutfi Japakiya, 2005). Intriguingly, not only did refutations by Thai Islamic authorities follow his, but Lutfi’s, as written in Thai. In it, he addressed what he claims are misperceptions concerning the role of Islam in the conflict. Lutfi has also discussed issues of religious pluralism in Islam, and emphasised that only recognised religious authorities are capable of declaring a jihad, and only after other avenues such as da’wah have been pursued. Although Lutfi has called upon the Thai state to recognise Malay-Islamic identity in the far-south, he is in active dialogue with, and supportive of, the state. For example, he served as a member of the National Reconciliation Commission, was appointed to the Senate following the 2006 coup, and has been an advisor to the Chularajamontri. Opinion is divided about whether Lutfi is an advocate of what Hasan Hanafi has described as conservative or modernising branches of Salafism (2009, p. 120). Liow Lutfi was a moderniser, pointing out that despite being a graduate of “Wahhabi” institutions in Saudi Arabia, most of his influences are not conventional “Wahhabi” ideologues.41 Imtiyaz Yusuf disagrees. He describes Dr. Lufti’s Saudi-style Salafism as, “rigid literalism, intolerance toward differences, insularism, supremacist psychology, restriction of women’s movements, opposition to rationalism, and a hostile attitude towards artistic expression”. As a result, Islam in South Thailand is increasingly Arabicised. This has affected the local religious lexicon, attire (including the full-faced niq¯ab by women), as well as increasing gender segregation (2007, pp. 10, 12). Yusuf also suggests that the parochial and ethnocentric worldview of Lutfi’s “Wahhabism” resembles the ethno-religious Islam of southern Malays.

40 Lutfi has a doctorate in comparative Islamic jurisprudence from the Islamic University of AlImam Mohammad Ibn Saud in Riyadh, an M.A. in comparative fiqh (Ar. Islamic jurisprudence) at the Ibn Saud, and a B.A. in usuluddin (Ar. religious principles) from Madinah University. 41 Liow claims that the most important of these was Shaykh Sa’id Hawwa, Lutfi’s Syrian lecturer, tutor and supervisor (2009a, p. 90). Lutfi’s doctrinal inclinations are also complex. His doctoral dissertation argues for the importance of time, space and context when applying precepts of Islamic law (see 2009a, pp. 113–120).

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Liow argues that Lutfi as “at once reformist, modernist, and fundamentalist”. By acknowledging the limitations of traditional Islamic education, he is a reformist. His modernist credentials relate to his willingness to teach on non-religious subjects that assist Muslims to face the complexities of globalisation and Thai modernity. Finally, by locating “Islam, and in particular the Qur’an and sunnah, at the heart of its understanding of modern knowledge” he might be referred to (albeit inadequately) as a fundamentalist (2009a, p. 180). Like Shaykh Daud, Sheik Ahmad, and Haji Sulong before him, Lutfi’s family is a member of Pattani’s religious establishment. He is one of many present-day reformers building on the foundations established by Shaykh Ahmad’s fatwas and Haji Sulong’s religious and political activism. Lutfi’s capital intensive reformist agenda has benefited from funded by Middle Eastern backers. Although modern Salafism and Tablighi Jama’at possess divergent aims, constituencies and methodologies, their initial arrival and eventual establishment all involved mobile and influential local personalities.

Conclusion A millennium before Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion, a Sanskrit cosmopolis existed in both Patani and its predecessor Langkasuka, as it had throughout mainland and island Southeast Asia. There are a number of Indian connections in the earliest chapters of Islam’s Southeast Asian expansion. A Sanskrit cosmopolis existed before Islam’s arrival. Islam also came from India and through members of Indian/Arab creole communities that were created through the Indian Ocean Trade through which Islam circulated. Patani’s initial adhesion to—or adoption of—Islam is reputed to have begun with the healing of Raja Phaya Tu Antara by Shaykh Said of Pasai. Through its adhesion to Islam Patani’s participation in the Indian Ocean, trade increased and through this it prospered. An Arabic cosmopolis eventually replaced its Sanskrit predecessor in Patani. All these developments reveal Patani to have been more similar to—than distinct from—other port city-states on the Thai/Malay peninsula. While a vassal state of Ayutthaya, I consider Siamese religious influences on Islam in Patani before the twentieth century to have been negligible compared with Indic influences. Tambiah described how Patani was located at the interstices of two galactic polities (1976). Bougas asserted that Patani was unique among Malay states due to her location between the Thai and Malay mandalas of Ayutthaya/Bangkok and Melacca, both of which shaped her history and culture (1994, p. 1). Bougas cites an (unnamed) Dutch source from the 1600s, claiming that Buddhists in Patani comprised 30% of the population who worshipped in their temples (1994, p. 37; see also Bradley 2010, p. 108). Ibrahim Syukri mentions 60 Burmese slaves who were given to the raja by the Thai king, none of whom were forced to convert to Islam (1985, p. 20). Finally, Barbara Andaya cites Buddhist pilgrims to have continued travelling between China and India via Patani (2004, p. 70).

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Bougas insists that this situation was different from other Southeast Asia kerajaan where Islam supplanted and eventually replaced Hindu-Buddhist predecessors. In Patani these faiths not only coexisted—they also interacted with each other. According to Bougas, as a result Islam in Patani was “heavily influenced by Buddhism, acquired a unique character of its own, quite different from that encountered in the rest of the Peninsula and Archipelago” (1994, p. 37). Patani’s oldest mosque, Surau Aur, is designed on Hindu-Buddhist prototypes. However interesting this rectangular building’s three-tiered single ridge roof and serpentine gables typical of Thai Buddhist architecture might be (1992), this phenomenon is far from unique to Patani (see Abdul Halim Nasir, 2004; Dickie, 1978). Bougas also points that it was once a common practice to shave the heads of Malay boys before their circumcision (SM masuk jawi), a practice that mirrors that the heads of Buddhist boys before being ordained as monks (1994, p. 37). Raymond Scupin adds that the status of hajis in southern Malay communities also resembled that of monks (1982). A similar position is taken by Louis Golomb, who warns that the employment of ethno-religious designations such as “Thai-Buddhist” and “Malay-Muslim” runs the risk of misconstruing these are denoting separate socio-cultural traditions or bounded cosmologies.42 Like many others at the time, Golomb referred to Thai and Malay “folk” beliefs as “little” traditions and local components of a “region wide system of multiethnic strategies for harnessing supernatural power” (1985a, p. 1). Milner expresses similar sentiments when he stated that the significance of new “religions” was not that these demanded new allegiances, but that they provided new techniques. As such, Milner cautions against using “isms” such as Buddhism or Hinduism in the way they began to be used in later centuries: that these were integrated, exclusive systems of knowledge (2008, p. 32). Golomb’s proposals predate more recent ones. Suthiwong Phongpaibun claimed that “bonds of brotherhood” existed between Buddhists and Muslims on the Thai/Malay peninsula (2008). Alexander Horstmann refers to a common cosmology existing between Buddhists and Muslims (2004, p. 93). Horstmann describes this “shared cosmology” as a “powerful culture in which the hybridisation of local cosmologies of Buddhist and Muslim communities takes place in a fascinating manner”. In it are shared beliefs about merit-making, ancestors and ghosts, by which “the living and the dead are tied to each other” (2004, pp. 85, 93). Although many assessments of Patani/Pattani’s uniqueness vis-à-vis other port city-states have been forwarded, these have not acknowledged the following. First, although Pattani’s present location represents the northern extremity of the Malay world (SM. dunia Melayu), Siamese influence extended as far south as Kedah and Terengganu. Second, Malay-speaking Muslim communities were present on both coasts of upper South Thailand before 1909. There is no denying that Patani’s subjugation over the five decades of conflict following 1785 inexorably brought it into Bangkok’s sphere of political influence. This was as disastrous for the palace, as the demise of trade a century earlier had 42

Golomb’s outstanding ethnographic work (1978, 1985a, 1985b) has dealt with the healing practices of Buddhists and Muslims in Kelantan, Pattani, Songkhla and Central Thailand.

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been for the market. Nevertheless, the strength of the mosque—Patani’s third most important institution (see Bradley, 2010, pp. 38–110)—increased despite the growing Siamese presence, for the following reasons. While the political turmoil of the early nineteenth century compelled people from central and northern Thai regions to turn to Bangkok as a moral centre, Patani embraced Mecca (Bradley, 2010, p. 12). Although Patani’s incremental political integration began almost immediately, it is highlighted above that no Siamese attempts were made to either interfere with or patronise Islam until the twentieth century. Furthermore, increased connections with Mecca coincided with a time of religious and political revolt and reform. Being comparatively wealthy owners of ponok schools, the families of Shaykh Daud, Shaykh Ahmad and Haji Sulong would have considered it a religious obligatory (Ar. wajib) to immigrate to a Dar al-Islam following Patani becoming a Dar al-Harb. Patani’s ulama besar mediated of the expansion of Middle Eastern reformist and modernist movements into Thailand’s far-south. This would not have been possible had a number of revolutions not taken place. In the second half of the nineteenth century handwritten manuscripts penned by scribes were replaced by printed books. Those travelling across the Indian Ocean no longer used sail boats following the introduction of steamers. As described above, in the twentieth century Bangkok eventually began to concern itself with religious matters, although with only limited success and many unexpected consequences. Renewed attempts to register southern ponoks (transforming them into PSTIs) led to an exodus of students pursuing Islamic education in the Middle East and South Asia. This coincided with the Iranian revolution and Saudi Arabia’s counter-offensive funded by her recently acquired economic clout. The revivalist and reformist movements that continue to affect the religious landscape of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat build on the foundations laid by previous generations of activists. The increased use of the Thai language, and engagement. Thai modernity by Malays in Cabetigo, came after a century of incremental assimilation of the Malay dominated far-south by Bangkok. The range of Thai and Islamic influences delineated above have led to Cabetigo possessing the religious, linguistic and ethnic diversity which are the subject of the following chapter. Indic, Thai and Islamic influences have all shaped in specific ways the ritual repertoire through which merit is made, the rationales motivating their performance, and the nature of the merit-making rhetoric of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents.

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van der Putten, J. (2009). Wayang Parsi, Bangsawan and printing: Commercial cultural exchange between South Asia and the Malay World. In R. M. Feener & T. Sevea (Eds.), Islamic connections: Muslim societies in South and Southeast Asia (pp. 86–108). Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Vella, W. F. (1978). Chaiyo! King Vajiravudh and the development of Thai Nationalism. Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii. Wade, G. (2009). The Patani region in Chinese texts from the 6th to the 19th centuries. In P. Jory & J. Saengthong (Eds.), The Phantasm in Southern Thailand: Historical writings on Patani and the Islamic world, Chulalongkorn University, Dec 11–12, 2009. (pp. 499–523): Regional Studies Program (Southeast Asia Studies), School of Liberal Arts, Walailak University. Wade, G. (2010). Early Muslim expansion in South-East Asia, eighth to fifteenth centuries. In D. O. Morgan & A. Reid (Eds.), The New Cambridge history of Islam: Volume 3, The Eastern Islamic world, eleventh to eighteenth centuries (pp. 360–408). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wales, H. G. Q. (1974). Langkasuka and Tambralinga: Some archaeological notes. Journal of the Malaysian Branch Royal Asiatic Society, 47, 15–40. Wan Kadir Che Man. (1990a). Muslim separatism: The Moros of Southern Philippines and the Malays of Southern Thailand. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Wan Kadir Che Man. (1990b). The Thai Government and Islamic institutions in the four Southern Muslim Provinces of Thailand. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, 5(2), 255–282. Wan Kadir Che Man. (1994). Patani: From Sovereign Sultanate to subnation. Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 14(1 & 2 January & July), 116–123. Wan Mohammad Saghir Abdullah. (1990). Fatawa Tentang Binatang Hidup Dua Alam Syeikh Ahmad al-Fatani. Kuala Lumpur: Penerbitan Hizbi. Wan Mohammad Saghir Abdullah. (1992). Al  Allamah Syeikh Ahmad al-Fathani. Ahli Fikir Islam dan Dunia Melayu. Kuala Lumpur: Khazanah Fathaniyah. Welch, D. J., & McNeill, J. R. (1989). Archaeological investigation of Pattani History. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 19(1 March), 27–41. Wheatley, P. (1956). Langkasuka. T’oung Pao, 44(4/5), 387–412. Wheatley, P. (1961). The golden Khersonese: Studies in the historical geography of the Malay Peninsula before AD 1500. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press. Wieringa, E. (2009). Some light on Ahmad al-Fatani’s Nur al-Mubin. In J. van der Putten & M. Kilcline Coby (Eds.), Lost time and untold tales from the Malay world (pp. 186–197). Singapore: National University of Singapore Press. Wilson, H. E. (1989). Partisan imperialists and Islamic separatism in South Thailand, 1945–49. South East Asian Review, 20(3), 369–391. Wilson, H. E. (1992). Tengku Mahmud Mahyiddeen and the Dilemma of Partisan Duality. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 23(1), 37–59. Winstedt, R. O. (1966). Malaya and its history. London: Hutchinson. Winstedt, R. O. (1969). A history of classical Malay literature. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. Yusuf, I. (1998). Islam and democracy in Thailand: Reforming the office of the Chularajamontri/Shaikh Al-Islam. Journal of Islamic Studies, 9(2), 277–298. Yusuf, I. (2007). Faces of Islam in Southern Thailand. (Working Paper No. 7). Washington, DC: East-West Center Washington. Yusuf, I. (2010). The Role of the Chularajamontri (Shaykh al-Islam) in Resolving Ethno-religious Conflict in Southern Thailand. The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 27(1), 31–53.

Chapter 3

Religious, Ethnic and Linguistic Diversity

Abstract This chapter describes how ethnic identifications, language and religion in present-day Cabetigo have been affected by the Thai and Islamic influences described in previous chapters. While the Muslims in Cabetigo are comfortably bilingual ethnic Malays who adhere to traditionalist expressions of Islam, significant religious, linguistic and ethnic diversity exists. The chapter begins by describing how reformist and revivalist movements dealt with in the previous chapter have increased religious diversity—even division—in Cabetigo. I delineate the various ways in which Muslims identify themselves, but also the factors that affect which strategic identity is chosen at any given time and place. This chapter concludes with an account of how the bilingualism in Cabetigo brought about the widespread adoption of Thai by urban Malays.

Omar’s Roti Shop The best roti chenai in Pattani is sold at a shop in Cabetigo owned by Omar. Not only are his roti softer and less oily that those elsewhere, but they are also served with chicken and lentil curry. These reveal Omar’s Pakistani family origins. Omar makes his roti on a large skillet installed in a trolley without wheels that has been placed on concrete blocks outside the front of his shop-house (Th. hong thaew). In the shop’s far corner is a table where tea and coffee are made. The wall behind this is blackened from years of charcoal fires that economically boil the water and give the tea its aromatic flavor. Another of Omar’s specialties is tea made with goat’s milk, referred to as cha phaki (Figs. 3.1 and 3.2). Omar’s patrons display Cabetigo’s multi-faceted diversity caused by the colliding Thai and Islam influences described in the previous chapter. Consider Pak Mat, a 73-year-old Malay man who dresses every day in his white baju, chequered sarong and white piyo’, and is rarely seen without a village cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Like many Malays his age, Pak Mat speaks no Thai and has no contact with Thais. He was educated in traditional ponok schools before they were transformed into PSTIs. After Pak Mat leaves another of Omar’s regulars, Haji Hussein, enters and takes a seat. His bad hearing leads him to choose a table as far away as possible from the television under the stairs. Although the same age as Pak Mat, Haji Hussein is C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_3,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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Fig. 3.1 Omar making his famous roti chena

wealthier and comfortably speaks both Thai and Pattani Malay. While we talk, a group of young men dressed in da’wah garb gather around Omar’s skillet to order roti and tea. Then they sit together at the concrete table and chairs at the front of the shop. Pointing to them with his chin, Haji Hussein comments how good it is that such young men can give their time to religion. He adds, “Da’wah has been good for religion here, but not so good for development”. In a light-hearted turn, we swap suggestions about what Pak Mat might say about Malays dressing up as Indians. As a staunch traditionalist Pak Mat is well known for his diatribes about Malays in Pattani being manipulated by outsiders. He once commented, “The Thais want to make us more Thai, the Arabs and their stooges want to make us Arab, and the now the Tabligh have arrived. If the Americans come they will want us to walk around showing our belly buttons!” Haji Hussein’s son, Be Heng, stumbles upon his father as he is finishing his two roti and a glass of tea. Like all of Haji Hussein’s children Be Heng has done well for himself. He is now enjoying the security and status of a senior position in the Thai civil service. Although Be Heng has never spoken Malay with me, he is bilingual like his father, something he insists his children also master. On this Sunday morning he popped into Omar’s to enjoy a leisurely breakfast with his two friends who he has brought along in his newly purchased pick-up truck. They are planning to attend the weekly religious address given by Dr. Ishmael Lutfi at the Bamrong Islam School.

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The conversation soon turns to Be Heng’s two friends, whose sons will soon complete studies at a private Islamic high school. Decisions about which universities to apply for will soon need to be made. One son has always done well in religious subjects and has applied for scholarships to universities in the Middle East. Another, who is less interested and gifted in Arabic, is considering university options in Malaysia and Thailand. Both these are open to him because of his proficiency in Thai and Malay. Concerns are expressed about how well a ponok boy (PM. dek ponok) like him would handle the temptations that would be encountered in Bangkok’s universities (see Marddent, 2007). Ased is another regular at Omar’s roti shop. Unlike Pak Mat, Haji Hussein and Be Heng, he is neither a Malay nor from Pattani. Born in Songkhla (PM. Sekoro), Ased married a Patani Malay woman and moved to Cabetigo 10 years ago after having lived for many years in Bangkok. The only Malay Ased speaks is what he needs to sell drinks, snacks and daily consumables in his small shop in the front of his house. Like other Muslims from Songkhla and Nakhon Si Thammarat, he speaks the Southern Thai dialect. Ased claims that he has not learnt Malay, as (unlike Thai) this can only be spoken in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. Ased’s refusal to speak Malay is part of his general disdain for Malays, who he considers backward, stupid and lazy. When he lived in Bangkok he felt that Pattani would be an ideal place to raise a Muslim family. Soon after living in Cabetigo, however, he became disillusioned with many aspects of this overwhelmingly Malay community: few people studied; most were too lazy to work hard enough to earn a decent living; only a handful acted responsibly towards their wives; and he witnessed the widespread neglect of their children by Malay men. One of Ased’s few Malay friends is Razak, with whom he has breakfast at Omar’s once a week. Razak typically arrives with his only daughter, who he takes to school at the demonstration school run by the Prince of Songkhla University (PSU) that is widely acknowledged as the best school in town. Over breakfast Razak mentions his daughter’s inability to speak Malay. Countering Ased’s arguments, Razak points out that a facility in Standard Malay allows Malays from Pattani to work and travel in Malaysia and Indonesia. Despite being bilingual himself Razak prefers to speak Thai, even with comfortably bilingual Malays. His Malay is also marked by the extensive use of Thai technical terms. Razak’s government job (Th. karachakarn) and business interests (which together occupy much of his time and energy) are all conducted in Thai. While he laments his mother’s inability to communicate with her granddaughter, Razak stresses that this is one of the sacrifices that had to be made for his daughter to get ahead. One morning after Razak left, Ased confessed that is increasingly concerned with Razak’s obsession with business interests, rare performance of salat (Ar. ritual prayer) at the local surau, and reluctance to discuss religious issues. While Ased worried that Razak was following the ways of the world too much, he commented that he was one of the few hard-working Malays that he knew. This chapter introduces readers to how the various Thai and Islamic influences described in the previous chapter have impacted upon the religious, ethnic and linguistic diversity of present-day Cabetigo. The nature of Cabetigo’s

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religious diversity brought about by the decades of reformist activism is described. Throughout this study I refer to Cabetigo traditionalist, reformist and revivalist constituents. Cabetigo’s religious diversity resembles that of other Southeast Asian urban Muslim communities where reformist activism co-exists alongside traditionalist recalcitrance. Cabetigo’s uniqueness relates to the fact that the majority of its Malay residents are also Thai-speakers. There are ever increasing numbers of young Malays (like Razak’s daughter) in Cabetigo who are completely incapable of communicating in Malay, or prefer to do so in Thai. Among other things, this has led to changes in how Muslims in Cabetigo identify themselves vis-à-vis the Malay world and Thai nation-state. Discussions of identity (referred to hereafter as “identifications”) are complicated by the plethora of studies written from a range of theoretical positions that discuss this issue. In addition to the nature of Malayness and the reasons for some Malays referring to themselves as Thai Muslims, I also pay attention to the factors affecting how southern Malays employ a range of everyday autonyms and official exonyms to identify themselves with.1 This chapter concludes with a short description of modern multi-lingualism in Cabetigo. An account of the factors which affect which language Cabetigo residents speak—a treatment necessitated by the importance of religious rhetoric in this study—is also provided.

Traditionalists, Reformists and Revivalists This section describes how Islam in Cabetigo has been affected by reformist activism. As a result, a variety of “Islams” are now adhered to in Cabetigo. Following a clarification of what I intend the terms “traditionalist”, “reformist” and “revivalist” to denote, I delineate how these groups are referred to by local Muslims. The majority of Cabetigo residents are traditionalist adherents to Malay customary Islam. This is characterised by ritual elements that are viewed by reformists as containing Indic or Islamic innovations or accretions. All these are referred to as bid’ah. Traditionalists refer to themselves by any one of the following terms: kanaat kaw (Th.); kaum tuo (PM., from kaum tua); ore turut ore tuo (PM. those that follow the old people). They are sometimes derogatively referred to by reformists as ahl bid’ah (Ar. the innovators). What are some of these accretions? Although still present in Cabetigo (and more common in many rural Malay communities), village shamans or ritual specialists (PM. bomo, Th., mo phi) have been extensively marginalised.2 Similarly, since the 1980s the vitality and visibility of traditional Malay performing arts such as silat,

1 A.B. Shamsul refers to these as “everyday-defined” and “authority-defined” identity discourses (1996). 2 On bomos in Pattani see Thomas Fraser’s classic ethnographic work on Rusembilan (1960, 1966, 1975) and the study by Ruth-Inge Heinze (1988).

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dikir hulu, ma’yong and wayang kulit have diminished. One’s traditionalist orientation may also be indicated by the following observations: Are prayer beads (Ar. tasbih) used, or are repetitions counted on knuckles? Is the qunut recited during subuh prayers? What feasts are patronised? Are mawlid feasts held? Is merit made for the dead through posthumous feasts? Are ritual specialist routinely employed? What emphasis is placed on the responsibilities of the deceased’s children (PM. anok soleh) to make merit? Traditionalist Islam in Cabetigo has undergone a number of significant changes since Haji Sulong’s activism in the late 1930s. Traditionalists consider their generation to be better Muslims than preceding generations. They also make unflattering comparisons between themselves and the Muslims of Thailand’s upper south and Malaysia’s Kuala Lumpur. For instance, a friend recounted how shocked he had been by the sight of Malaysian men and women shaking hands. Despite traditionalist pride in such advances, most reformists consider religious reforms to have not gone far enough. Reformists may refer to themselves in any one of the following ways: kanaat mai (Th.), kaum mudo (PM.) or ahl sunnah (Ar. those following the example of the prophet). Traditionalists refer to reformists as ore ngaji mudo (PM. those following the new teaching) or ore brao (PM. people from Brao). I note that terms such as Wahhabi/Wahhabiyah and Salaf/salafiyyah are only occasional employed. When they are, they are used by those with higher education in Islamic Studies. Details concerning reformist thought and practice are important elements in all subsequent chapters. Wedding feasts might be referred to by reformists as walimah (not make pulot). While the names of some feasts have been changed, others have been entirely abandoned. Reformists make merit—both for themselves and the deceased—in distinctive ways and occasionally with different motivations. While numerically in the minority, reformist influence in Cabetigo relates to the prominence of wealthy educated urban professionals who are unable to accept traditionalist taqlid (Ar. blind following). In the previous chapter, a distinction was made between revivalism and reformism. The former refers to the activities of the Tablighi Jama’at. Most active members of the Tablighi Jama’at are easily identified by their white robes (thawb) and long turbans (PM. sarabe). Some also wear black eye-liner, which is regarded as sunnah. Although da’wah is a generic term for a call or invitation to Islam, in Cabetigo da’wah has become synonymous with the missionary activities of Tablighi Jama’at. Indeed while all in Cabetigo have heard about da’wah, some are still unfamiliar with the Tablighi Jama’at. Over and above their divergent methodologies, there are other important differences in South Thailand between Salafism and the Tablighi Jama’at. While relaxing one evening with a Malay ahl sunnah friend, three pick-ups full of Tablighis who had just returned from a khuruj arrived at the tea shop we were in. After taking their seats and ordering drinks, they all began rolling their village cigarettes (PM. daun ro’ko’) before lighting up and relaxing. Speaking to me in English, my friend commented, “These Tablighi guys are very tight knit. This is very good. But they are not very strict like my group. Do you see them all smoking? This is a sin for us”.

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Such attitudes towards the Tablighi Jama’at may be explained by the fact that it is banned in Saudi Arabia (Liow, 2009, p. 198). Interestingly, members of the Tablighi Jama’at in Cabetigo are made up of both traditionalists and reformists, causing some tensions as reformists take a harder line against traditionalist accretions. This is one of a number of challenges to describing Cabetigo’s religious diversity. For instance, on family who routinely make use of amulets (PM. azima’) sent some of their children to avowedly reformist PSTIs that disapprove of such practices. Various assessments of reformist activism in South Thailand have been made. Imtiyaz Yusuf claims that reformist activism has led to significant rifts and “cultural dislocations” within Malay Islam. Traditionalists have sought to protect the “ethno-religious and social features” of Shafi`i Malay Islam against “Wahhabism”. He argues that reformists consider it their religious duty to wean people off traditional interpretations and practices. Traditionalists resist such attempts. These are perceived by many as a threat to their ethnic identity. The resultant debates have not only created confusion about ethnic, cultural and religious identity, but have also precipitated a crisis of religious and socio-political authority. Although (as I showed in the previous chapter) such tensions are not new, the situation has been recently exacerbated by the latest round of conflict between puritans and moderates (2007, pp. 9, 13). While relationships have improved since the late 1990s, Salaf activism and traditionalist resistance have led to unprecedented change, diversity and division in Cabetigo, as in many other communities in the far-south.

Plural and Porous Identifications In his Leaves of the Same Tree: Trade and Ethnicity in the Straits of Melaka (2008), Leonard Andaya’s presents the persuasive argument that although Melayu, Minangkabau, Batak, Acehnese, Orang Asli and Orang Laut are ethnic boundaries that establish difference, they are all leaves of the same tree. These ethnicities emerged as groups encountered each other. This required names to be given and ethnic affiliations to be made. As I have already described, trade in pre-colonial times led to the exchange goods and ideas. This also catalysed the ongoing process of ethnic formation that Andaya refers to as “ethnicization” (2008, pp. 10, 14). Those living along its Straits of Melacca were exposed to new possibilities of ethnic and religious affiliation, a situation that resembled the modern phenomenon of porous borders and the transnational activities of individuals (2008, p. 9). A number of theories of ethnicity exist between the extreme poles of circumstantialism and primordialism.3 Circumstantialism claims that ethnic groups play an ongoing and active role in redefining the cultural elements constituting their identity. Despite this dynamic fluidity of cultures, ethnic groups also possess an

3

Primordialism is associated with the ideas of both Fredrik Barth (1969) and Clifford Geertz (1963), whereas circumstantialism was first argued for by Edmund R. Leach (1954).

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essential core which distinguishes them from others. Thus, there are both primordial constants in ethnicity and fluid, multi-layered dimensions which are continually adjusting to changing circumstances. Primordialist studies of Muslims in Thailand which assert the persistence of ethnic constants include those by Pitsuwan (1985), Suhrke (1977) and Thomas (1982). Those representing a circumstantialist perspective, arguing that identity is altered and reconfigured depending on context, include Dorarirajoo (2002a), Le Roux (1998), Prachuabmoh (1980), Satha-Anand (1993, 2005) and SuwannathatPian (2000). Satha-Anand has emphasised how Thailand’s southern Malays relate to one billion Muslims worldwide, 200 million other Malay-speakers in Southeast Asia, and 62 million Thai citizens. Far from being distinctly compartmentalised, their composite identities are continually being negotiated, steering the difficult path between universal and ethnocentric idioms (2005, p. 3). While the constant intermingling and exchange of biological and cultural elements has led some scholars to reject theories of primordialism, Andaya underscores essential differences between ethnic groups who remain distinct in order to promote group interests (2008, p. 11). International conventions have confined individuals within fixed spaces that has imposed a specific national and legal identity. Precolonial identity, however, was marked by a plurality and porosity in which religion was subordinate to other markers. Decisions to adopt one or more ethnic identities were the privilege of an individual, and in no small way influenced by contact with a range of foreign “others”. In the pre-colonial period, difference could be expressed through any one of the following ethnic markers: what food was eaten, which language(s) were spoken, how hair was cut and what clothes were worn, and how sarongs were tied. During times of rapid change, these could be altered or completely abandoned. This enabled individuals and groups to “strategically deploy one or more identities in different circumstances to maximize advantage” (Andaya, 2008, p. 10). Different communities also adapted to change in different ways. While motivated by a common desire to maximise a group’s current advantage, some detached themselves from a “larger ethnic identity to form smaller and more effective units. Others, saw greater advantage in becoming affiliated with a larger ethnic group” (Andaya, 2008, p. 3). Membership of ethnic groups expanded or contracted depending on the circumstances. As such, ethnicity was “far more than simply a form of identification, [but] also function[ed] to protect the group” (Andaya, 2008, p. 235). These elements of pragmatism and choice in ethnic identification explain my preference for referring to “identifications” rather than “identity”. With respect to the plural and porous nature of pre-nineteenth century “Melayu” identity, Andaya argues that soft boundaries between “Melayu”, “Batak” or “Minang” ethnicity enabled individuals to move between these identities to maximise personal advantage in different circumstances. While ethnic names survived, ethnic boundaries were rarely rigid. Rather, they shifted over time.4 Following their

4

Similar arguments are made by Anthony Milner (2008).

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migration from southern Borneo to south-east Sumatra, the Melayu were the most influential ethnic group in the Straits of Melacca.5 Thus from the seventh century, Melayu dress and customs was adopted in many parts of Sumatra, and Melayu became the language of government and the market place in the polity of Sriwijaya. By the time the Melayu were established on the Thai/Malay peninsula around the fifteenth century, distinct Minangkabau, Acehnese and Batak ethnicities had already emerged in Sumatra. The term “Melayu” was capable of referring to a language, culture, regional group, polity or local community. Andaya considers that this development “spawn[ed] a wide variety of interpretations concerning its meaning and significance” (2008, p. 14). Evidence from excavations on the Malaysian peninsula reveal the presence of Mon-speaking peoples linked to Mon civilisations further north. These are thought to have adopted Islam and became Melayu in the twelfth century (2008, p. 319).6 Andaya proposes that pre-Melaccan inhabitants of the peninsula were divided between the Mon-Khmer-influenced populations from the north and the Austronesian influenced culture from the southern peninsula. This situation changed in the fifteenth century following the foundation of Melacca by Melayu immigrants from Palembang (Andaya, 2004, p. 72). In addition to their later adoption of Islam, northern kingdoms such as Kedah also continued to be subject to both Mon-Khmer rather than Melayu influences. In the following section it is considered how these conceptions of plural and porous pre-colonial identifications assist discussions of the everyday autonyms and official exonyms that are either employed by, or imposed on, Malay Muslims in South Thailand. These are ore melayu/nayu, ore jawi, ore isle, and Thai Muslim. Malay, or Melayu, is an exonym that is avoided by the Thai government. The concept of Malayness has recently been the subject of much debate (see Barnard, 2004a; Milner, 2008). Adrian Vickers considers Melayu a “fraught” term, as this covers a multitude of possible identities formulated in reaction to different waves of migration to the Malay peninsula and colonial intervention (2004, pp. 40, 45). Shamsul adds that non-Muslim groups in the pre-European era were designated “Malay” on the basis of use of the Malay language and their practice of a Malay “way of life”. This referred to their dress, culinary practices and participation in a Malay-speaking trading network (2004, p. 143). Barnard concurs, claiming that in the eighteenth century Melacca Straits region, Malay identity was adopted in Siak before any mass adhesion there to Islam. Furthermore, he claims that although religion constituted an important element of Malayness, this identity was primarily based “on a common trading culture along the Melaka Straits and the South China Sea” (2004b, p. 108). Michael Montesano and Patrick Jory have commented on the rarity with which the approaches to Malayness advocated by Barnard’s contributors inform the study of Thailand’s lower south. They also point to the irony of Barnard’s publication

5 6

For linguistic evidence see Collins (2004). Andaya cites Benjamin (1997, pp. 92–93).

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coinciding with those of local and foreign scholars who appear to “stress the importance of a primordial Patani/Pattani Malay identity” (2008, p. 2). Seni Mudmarn regards “Malay” as a noun that reflects the major traits of a distinctive ethnic group. The double-barrelled “Malay-Muslim” emphasises the inseparability of Islam from Malay ethnicity (1994, p. 32). Despite being Thai citizens, Malay language, customs and religion all distinguish Malays from Thais. Mudmarn also insists that Malayness is inextricably bound to Islam, arguing that no one has heard of “Malay Buddhists” or “Malay Christians” (1994, p. 39). Commenting on the importance of Islam in southern Malayness, Imtiyaz Yusuf criticises the fact that “ritual, mythic/narrative, experiential/emotional, ethical and legal, social, material, and political dimensions of life” are all locally interpreted and perceived through the lenses of ethnic identity” (2007, p. 8). Chaiwat Satha-Anand not only questions Mudmarn’s foreclosure of the possibility of the conversion of Malays to other religions, but the legitimacy of race replacing religion. Islam, after all, is more universal than Malayness, and Malayness is less accommodating than Islam. Thus, rather than a noun, the “Malay” element of the “Malay-Muslim” should be viewed as a subordinate adjective (1992, pp. 30–31). The inseparability of Islam and Malayness is also challenged by Cabetigo residents who describe their drugtaking, computer game addicted, karaoke-singing young people as Malays, but not Muslims. Not only local Malays, but also Thai Buddhists and Thai-speaking Muslims from outside the three southern provinces, refer to the Malay language as phasa islam (Th.) or paso melayu/nayu (PM.). Attitudes in Cabetigo to the importance of the Malay language to modern Malayness in South Thailand range between people like Razak and Pok Mat. Razak and Be Heng illustrate two of the most common positions taken by Cabetigo’s middle-class Malays. Pok Mat is unconcerned by his inability to speak Thai. He holds strong opinions about the link between the rise in Thai influence and the demise of local Malayness. By the time Malays graduate from Thai schools both their Malay language and sense of Malay identity have gradually diluted. Pok Mat and other Malays like him in Cabetigo consider there to be religious connotations in the traditional Thai greeting (Th. wai) (made by bringing one’s hands together to one’s face) that Malay children are forced to perform at school. Furthermore, Pok Mat sees no advantage in his grandchildren attending overcrowded, under-staffed, inadequately-resourced Thai schools where Malay children consistently under-achieve. Such views are part of a deepening disillusionment with successive Thai governments, who are increasingly viewed as erratic, corrupt and violent. Such perceptions only increase with every year Thailand’s political crisis and southern insurgency continues. Malays are commonly referred to as ore nayu, which I view as the Pattani Malay dialect’s truncation of “Melayu”. Nevertheless, others have argued that this represents an important autonym employed by southern Malays. Although first discussed by Chavivun Prachuabmoh (1980, 1989, pp. 130–135), ore nayu has been most extensively discussed by Saroja Dorarirajoo (2002a, 2002b), and has been adopted by Michiko Tsuneda (2009). Dorarirajoo’s study of the adaptation of a Malay fishing community to modern life in the Thai nation state led her to argue that ore nayu

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is an everyday-defined identity term that represents a strategic device in a culture of negotiation.7 Ore nayu distinguished Malays from ore siye (PM. Thai-Buddhists) (2002a, pp. 11, 15). Through their involvement with Thai-Buddhist non-government organisations (NGO) in their fight for equal access to the natural resources (2002a, pp. 110–156), nayu fishermen either learned, or greatly improved, their ability to speak, read and write Thai. This also increased was their awareness of Thai identity, but not at the expense of their “Malayness” (2002a, p. 372). Indeed, all of Dorarirajoo’s informants continued to identify themselves as ore nayu when seeking employment in Malaysian restaurants. This vocation was open to them as Muslims capable of cooking authentic halal Thai cuisine (2002a, pp. 159–233). Malays in Cabetigo also occasionally refer to themselves as ore jawi, which is not an official label of ethnic identity. Neither is it widely used outside the community. Nonetheless, Pierre Le Roux (1998) claims that this is one of the most spontaneous autonyms used in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. As is well known, Jawi denotes the Malay language written in a modified Arabic script, and is also one of the most common ways of referring to Southeast Asian Muslims in the Middle East. While political independence provided Muslim in Malaysia and Indonesian with exportable nationalities, Malays from South Thailand refer to themselves as “jawi” while they are abroad. Although ore jawi were once subjects of the Malay kerajaan of Patani, they are now inhabitants of Thailand through its territorial absorption. They are Muslims, speaking an Austronesian language, which is a member of the Malayo-Polynesian group—a group distinct from the Thai of the Tai-Kadai language family. Roux comments that they belong to “all of these worlds without fusing with any single one” (1998, p. 233). Le Roux appears to downplay the similarities that Malays in Cabetigo share with those in Kelantan and Terengganu by suggesting the following as being unique to ore jawi: distinctively constructed and painted kolek boats; the breeding of zebra-doves for singing competitions; the production of salty fish sauce (PM. budu). What is unique in South Thailand is the nature of their multi-lingualism and distinct dialect replete with mono-syllabisations and lexical borrowings from Thai. Just as not all Thai-speakers are Buddhists, not all Malay-speakers along the Thai-Malay border are Muslims (see Winzeler, 1985, p. 65). Thai-speaking Muslim communities have long existed in Satun and Kedah (see Banks, 1980, 1983; Nishii, 2000; Suwannathat-Pian, 1994, 2008). Malay-speaking Thais and Chinese communities are found in the Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat, as well as Kelantan (Carstens, 1986; Johnson, 1999, 2008; Mohamed Yusoff Ismail, 1993; Winzeler, 1985). Malays may identify themselves through their dress (by wearing sarong, piyo’, hijab), diet (avoiding pork), jewellery (silver rings for men and no Buddhist amulets), but an ability to speak Malay remains one of their most important identity markers in Cabetigo. Smalley argues that this is intimately connected with the rarity

7

For more on the theme of negotiation refer to Ryoko Nishii (2002).

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with which people in Thailand learn languages that are not their mother tongue and are located lower in the language hierarchy (1994, p. 320). Another common autonym in Cabetigo is ore isle (PM. Muslims). This is similar to references to the Malay language as phasa islam (Th.) or paso melayu/nayu (PM.). While having a cup of tea in a coffee shop, a Malay neighbour passed by and spoke to me in Malay. Upon hearing this, a young woman in the shop commented with a mixture of surprise and delight “Eh bana kecek Isle juko’” (PM. “Heah, you are also good at Malay!”). Overhearing her, another customer rebuked her, pointing out that if an Islamic language existed it was Arabic—not Malay. Differences in the value Heng and Razak place on the Malay language in their homes demonstrate some of the significant shifts that have occurred in Cabetigo over recent decades. Seni Mudmarn’s comparison between Malay language loyalty in Pattani and Satun (1988) revealed that this was considerably stronger in Pattani at the time.8 Indeed, Cabetigo residents born as late as the 1980s recall Thai literature having been banned in Malay households for fear of its corrupting Buddhist influences. Although Thai may not have replaced Malay as the traditional language of Islam in the southern provinces, the increased use of Thai in the Malay-dominated farsouth is an important and under-researched phenomenon (see Kongchatree, 1979; Mudmarn, 1988; Scupin, 1988). Interestingly, Thai Muslim modernists have long emphasised the production of Thai religious literature (Scupin, 1980; Yusuf, 2007, p. 11). Analogous situations exist in Singapore and Malaysia. Virginia Matheson Hooker has noted that in Malaysia among young urban Malays, decreased proficiency in Malay has coinciding with changes in the practice of Malay adat. Both Malay adat and language affects all but one of the three elements of Malayness defined by Malaysia’s 1957 constitution (2004, p. 159). Razak and others like him in Cabetigo resemble Malaysia’s English-speaking urban Malays sometimes referred to as Melayu baru.9 Many Malays like Razak have not objections to being referred to as Thai Muslims. This is the Thai government’s official exonym for all of its Muslim citizens. This designation is rejected by some in Cabetigo, who regard this as sounding oxymoronic, similar to “Buddhist Muslims” (Le Roux, 1998, p. 243). This is a nonissue for Cabetigo’s converts to Islam, immigrants from Thai-speaking provinces (like Ased), and member of Cabetigo’s Arab (PM. ore ara’) and Pakistani (PM. ore Kabul) immigrant community. Most Thai converts in Cabetigo have entered Islam in order to marry Muslim spouses.10 Unlike Bangkok, such conversions are not predominantly Muslim men marrying Buddhist women (Scupin, 1998, p. 248). Also, unlike the situation 8

For recent studies mentioning Malay language use in Satun see Merli (2009) and Parks (2009). Although Melayu baru (SM. new Malay) is associated with the “Vision 2020” initiative launched in 1991 by the Malaysian government under Mahathir, A.B. Shamsul employs this term to describe Malaysia’s emerging middle-class that he suggests is a modern version of its pre-NEP predecessor Orang kaya baru (Shamsul, 1999, p. 60). 10 For recent studies of Muslim and non-Muslim marriage and conversion see Marddent (2008). 9

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in Satun, described by Nishii (1999), intermarriage between Muslims and Thai Buddhists is still relatively rare in Cabetigo. Converts to Islam in Cabetigo vary in their observance of Islam’s most basic ritual obligations. How well they are accepted by the Malay Muslim majority also varies. A Thai-Chinese man, who married a Cabetigo local while living in Bangkok, appeared mildly traumatised when I asked to interview him. His wife, laughed, saying “He doesn’t know a thing!” He still wore gold jewellery, even though this was frowned upon by Muslims. Noticeably absent on the balconies of two households where Thai Buddhist female converts live are the white prayer shawls (PM. kain kana) used by Malay Muslim women when performing salat. Both these women continue to wear dresses with hems just covering their knees, which make them almost indistinguishable from Thai Buddhists. Ased is one of many Thai Muslims who have shifted to Cabetigo. From the 1940s, a number of Thai Muslim immigrants served as role models for a negotiated integration and “Thai-Islam-ness”. Interviews with some of the first Malays to have attended a Thai school indicated that this difficult decision was facilitated by friendships that their parents had with Thai Muslim immigrants from Bangkok. These demonstrated that it was possible to be a Muslim despite attended a Thai school and speaking Thai. Two Thai Muslim extended families from Nakhon Si Thammarat have lived in Cabetigo for 30 years. The heads of these families are Lung (Th. Uncle) Wae and Lung Mat. Their children have married a mixture of local Malays and other Southern Thai Muslims. The presence of Arab (PM. ore ara’) and (mainly Pathan) Pakistani (PM. ore kabul) immigrants further increases Cabetigo’s ethnic diversity. Although relationships between Malays and immigrant families are generally congenial, some tensions do exist. Many immigrants attend the Pakistan mosque (PM. Masyid Pakiste, Masyid Kabul, Th. Masyid Pakistan) located 2 km downstream from Cabetigo. The introduction of hanafi conventions by Pathans was originally controversial. Dramatic reductions in their numbers in the wake of the closure of the British consulate in Songkhla, led to shafi’i norms being adopted in southern Pakistan Mosques. The prosperity of some immigrants is resented by some Malays. Members of these immigrant communities are also critical of Malays for issues ranging from their consumption of uncooked meat products such as budu (PM. fermented fish sauce), to being hyper-suspicious and adverse to difference. Many immigrant families have maintained a sense of ethnic distinctiveness, while still engaging in Thai modernity, and achieving educational and financial success. The heterogeneity of Muslims in Thailand—especially in Bangkok—is well known. Thai Muslims in Bangkok may come from a plurality of cultures and subcultures, but most have long expressed themselves in Thai linguistic forms and are assimilated into the modern Thai nation-state. Some have also retained distinctive elements of their original cultures and continue communalising along their respective sub-ethnic lines. Omar Farouk refers to Thailand’s Thai Muslim and Malay constituencies as its “assimilated” and “unassimilated” populations (1988), which Yusuf refers to as “integrated” and “unintegrated” (2007, p. 4). As a Thai Muslim of Indian background, Chaiwat Satha-Anand comments on having “less in common with the people of Pattani than they have in common with

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people in northern Sumatra let alone Malay Muslims in Kelantan or Terengganu” (2008, p. 102). Farouk suggests that changes in the cultural and linguistic boundaries between Malays and Thai Muslims have permitted the emergence of a new community “decidedly Muslim in faith but recognizably Thai in culture” (2005, p. 4). While it is commonly accepted that to be Malay is to be a Muslim, in Thailand a Muslim need not be Malay (see Albritton, 2010). Most in Cabetigo reject suggestions that Malays become Thai Muslim simply by speaking Thai. Many who have studied or worked in Bangkok speak disparagingly of the knowledge and practice of Islam by most Muslims there. Be Heng once exclaimed in primordialist tones, “The government likes to say to us in Pattani, ‘Look! These guys are Muslims and they speak Thai—you can too!’ But they are not Malays”. Apparently, for some in Bangkok, the feeling is mutual. One of the many legacies of 8 years of violence in South Thailand is rising prejudice against Southern Malays by Bangkok Muslims. A Cabetigo ore meneko (PM. Petty trader) recounted that during a recent business trip to Bangkok, many avoided his stall after hearing him speak Malay. Do Southern Malay and Thai Muslims north of districts in Satun and Songkhla where Malay is still spoken represent the two cultural poles of Thai Muslim society? There are a number of problems with the proposition. The first is that it downplays the Malay origins of many Muslim communities in the upper south and Bangkok (Anderson, 2010; Merli, 2009; Parks, 2009). Those familiar with Malay are stuck by how many place names in the upper south are of Malay origin. The tourist Mecca of Phuket comes from the Malay word for hill (SM. bukit). At the time of his research in Bangkok in the late 1970s, Raymond Scupin claimed that 70% of its 150 mosques were built by the descendants of Malay prisoners of war taken by Kings Rama I and Rama III and 3,000 Malays are estimated to have resided in Bangkok in 1828. This number tripled following the 1832 campaign. Many war prisoners were resettled in Bangkok’s eastern extremities where they provided the labour for the Chakri dynasty’s major projects such as the construction of canals, the most famous of which is the Saen Saep canal. Scupin comments that anyone travelling on this canal discovers that it is “punctuated by mosques which have been erected on both the east and west sides” (1998, p. 239).11 These claims are corroborated in Louis Golomb’s study of multi-ethnic healing between Buddhists and Muslims in Pattani, Songkhla and Bangkok. He notes that the majority of Bangkok’s Muslims continue to share many traits with the Malay communities of the southern border provinces of their ancestors (1985, p. 8).12 Legal rulings of Bangkok’s traditionalist ulama on contested customary practices are oriented towards Islamic legal norms in the Malay-Indonesian world. Indeed, although many controversial practices were abandoned by Malays in South Thailand, these continue in Bangkok (Scupin, 1978, p. 178).

11

Scupin cites Wenk and Stahl (1968). For more on Malay communities in Bangkok see Farouk Bajunid (1992), Tadmor (2004) and Umaiyah Haji Umar (2003).

12

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Factors Affecting Autonym Selection What are the factors that affect which everyday-defined autonyms and authoritydefined exonyms are chosen? Following Le Roux, I argue that the choice is influenced by the interlocutor’s ethnicity, the language in which their identity is articulated, and their status and degree of assimilation (1998, p. 244). The role played by language in the selection of autonyms and exonyms is aptly illustrated by the following anecdote about an incident that happened to a Malay neighbour of mine while entering Kelantan at the Tak Bai border crossing. While processing paper work required for him to drive his Thai registered vehicle in Malaysia, a Malaysian official referred to him as an orang siam. This made my neighbour furious. Although in Standard Malay this might either denote “Thai Buddhists” or “Thai nationals”, in Cabetigo orang siye unequivocally refers to “Thai Buddhists”. It is important to note at this juncture that some Malays in Cabetigo also object to being called (in Thai) “khon Malay”. Although some assume that this is a shortened form of “khon Malaysia” (meant to refer to Malaysian nationals), they insist that while they are Malays, they are also full Thai citizens. Whenever speaking Malay, Malays in Cabetigo refer to themselves as ore taning (“Patanians”), anok taning (“a child of Patani”), ore sining (“a local”), ore Melayu or ore nayu (“Malay”), ore jawi, or ore isle (“Muslims”). When speaking Thai, Malays may use any other the following terms: khon thi ni (“people from here”), khon phuen thin (“a local”), or khon thai muslim (“a Thai Muslim”). Not only would no Malays refer to themselves as khaek (Th. stranger), most are highly offended when someone refers to them in this manner. Among Thai-speaking Muslims from the upper south, khaek is viewed as synonymous with Muslims (Marddent, 2008; Merli, 2009). Also affecting how Malays identity themselves is the degree to which Malay have been exposed to, and assimilated into, Thai modernity. For instance, when forced to deal with Thai officials suspected of holding discriminatory attitudes towards Malays, some accentuate their Thai-ness. Malays may refer to themselves by their Thai name, wear trousers rather than a sarongs, and leave a Muslim hat (PM. piyo’) in their pocket. None of these would be necessary with unthreatening interlocutors. Indeed, Le Roux claims that urban Malays only rarely refer to themselves as ore jawi—carrying as it does the connotations of “hillbilly”. Given the term’s neutrality and its usefulness for avoiding contested exonyms and lengthy neologisms, this is something Le Roux laments (1998, p. 248). Consider the autonyms that might be chosen by a native of Pattani when addressing a Malaysian, friendly Thai, and a less-friendly Thai (in Thai). To a Malay from Malaysia (especially Kelantan), he may refer to himself as ore taning or anak tani. It is immediately obvious that he is a Malay (as he speaks a particular dialect), a Muslim (due to the greeting used), and that he is from Thailand (everyone knows where Patani is situated). To a friendly Thai, Malays may refer to themself in Thai as khon Melayu, since his Thai citizenship is so obvious that it does not warrant being mentioned. To a less friendly Thai, however, he might prefer to use the term “Thai Muslim”.

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Should the dynamics that existed in the pre-colonial Straits of Melacca be viewed as resembling those of present-day Cabetigo, superior alternatives exist to conceiving southern Malays and Thai Muslims as the two poles of Thai Muslim society. I have shown that plural and porous identities exist in present-day Cabetigo. Although Razak moves between Thai and Malay worlds with relative ease, time alone will tell whether his daughter chooses to refer to herself as “Malay”. This is an issue that Be Heng’s children are unlikely to struggle with. Pak Mat’s emphatic rejection of the autonym or exonym Thai Muslim is understandable given his education in the traditional ponok system before the advent of PSTIs. However, this is a position that fewer younger Malays in Cabetigo are committed to. Although Malay bilingualism in South Thailand continues to increase, Razak and Be Heng illustrate that a number of factors affect the strategies employed by Cabetigo’s Malay residents to identify themselves and how well their children will speak Malay. Rather than the two pole of Muslim society in Thailand, the Malays of the far-south and both Thai Muslims of the upper south and Bangkok Muslims descended from Malay prisoners of war, might be conceived as leaves of the same tree.

Modern Multi-lingualism While a number of linguistic observations have already been made, the following discussion of modern multi-lingualism in Cabetigo is necessitated by one of this study’s principal concerns: The rhetorical aspects of Muslim merit-making. However important the rituals through which Muslims make merit are, and the merit-making rationales that motivate their performance, respondents’ explanations about these are all mediated through the agency of language. Informants who have been observed making merit identically may articulate their rationales differently for a number of reasons. While some may relate to reformist or traditionalist orientations, Thai and Malay-speaking Muslims subtly articulate conceptions of merit and merit-making through speech acts specific to the language used. As I argue in the following chapter, Thai and Malay articulations of merit and meritmaking draw from distinct conceptual wells that simultaneously complicates and enriches this study’s portrayal of Muslim merit-making. Language dynamics in Pattani have dramatically changed since Seni Mudmarn (1988) and Narong Kongchatree (1979) conducted their fieldwork. Although some of Cabetigo’s old residents like Pok Mat have never learnt Thai, the majority of Malays in Cabetigo are bilingual. Few Thai Muslims speak Malay, and increasing numbers of younger Malays are functionally monolingual Thai-speakers. Le Roux describes Malay multi-lingualism in the following manner: . . . They submit themselves to incredible intellectual gymnastics . . . by the age of thirty, for example, [they] have undergone hefty instruction. They have studied spoken and written Thai [. . .] as well as written Arabic and the Jawi writing system; they have learned their own dialect and know the nuances of the dialects in the region; they are likely to know some standard Malay [. . .] They are polyglots who jump quickly from one language to the

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3 Religious, Ethnic and Linguistic Diversity other. When they read orang in a text of standard Malay written in Jawi script, they correct automatically and pronounce it ore, which translates to khon in Thai [. . .] depending on the person they are talking with. Most astonishingly, they are capable of thinking ore but writing orang, and pronouncing orang when they know that the listener is Malay or understands Malay but no Jawi. When they meet someone who addresses them in standard Malay, the Jawi respond similarly, as if the language spoken to them were their own proper dialect, and thus they very often distort the inquiries of official linguists with the same ease they handle an imposing series of ethnonyms (Le Roux, 1998, p. 244).

Linguistic diversity in Cabetigo is both audible and visible. In addition to Thai, English and Chinese, some shop signs are also written in Jawi. Indeed, Jawi signs feature prominently in the new Big C department store that opened in 2005. Malay place names are also written on street signs, maps and football team shirts using Thai orthography. Unfortunately, the system used is often as inconsistent as it is inaccurate. Smalley describes the production of primers by the department of Education as “abortive efforts by amateurs” (1994, p. 172) (Fig. 3.2). Although most of my informants are capable of functioning in both languages, not all were able to do so with equal fluency. Bilingualism in Cabetigo exhibits signs of dependent multi-lingualism: where one language is filtered through another. Wherever this exists, over time, discrete linguistic components begin to affect each other in both directions. The result is a Thai-ised Malay, and a Malay-ised Thai, each of which possesses its own “standardised” pronunciation. This is referred to by Smalley as interdependent multi-lingualism (1994, p. 308). The Malay-ised Thai that many in Cabetigo speak lacks clearly defined tones, and is replete with glottal stops and Malay lexical borrowings. Although similar to Kelantanese, the Pattani Malay dialect is replete with long initial consonants (Paramal, 1990). As a result of sustained language contact with Thai, Pattani Malay is also increasingly tonalised. Malay words are pronounced with Thai-like high tones, a distinctive element of Southern Thai. Pattani Malay is also influenced by Thai phonology, such as the replacement of /j/ sounds for /y/ sounds (Jawi, becoming Yawi). There are also extensive lexical borrowings from Thai (see Ahmad

Fig. 3.2 Inventive spelling on a street sign in Cabetigo

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Idris, 1990). As a result, although Standard Malay is comprehensible to Pattani Malay, the reverse is not the case. While Pattani Malay is considered more viable than Thailand’s other minority languages (Smalley, 1994, pp. 313–315), Malay academics express concerns at the shrinking of the local Malay lexicon. Malay consumption of Thai media consumption has also affected Cabetigo’s language ecology of Cabetigo. The most significant is Thai television watched in almost every Malay household. In addition to a mixture of mono-lingual and bilingual individuals residing in Cabetigo, conversations may also be carried out in more than one language. Indeed, extensive language switching sometimes makes it unclear which language is being used—a situation locally referred to as talking bahaso bide. As an example of the dependent and interdependent multi-lingualisms described above, the following anecdotes illustrate how the choice of language is affected by the topic, discussants and location in Cabetigo. This is referred to as situational bilingualism. Jamilah is in her mid-30s and was born, bred, educated and married in Cabetigo. She speaks the Malay-ised Thai and Thai-ised Pattani Malay of most other Cabetigo residents. I have had innumerable conversations with her as a neighbour before beginning to employ her accountancy services. The first time I visited her office, I was astounded to hear her speaking with a client on the phone in impeccable Central Thai, necessitated by (1) where she was at the time, (2) who she was speaking with, and (3) what she was speaking about. Narong Kongchatree’s study of Malay bilingualism (1979) presents a number of findings about what tasks Thai and Malay are used for. Malay was the language in which 75% prayed and 65% dreamt. Also 57% wrote diaries in Thai, and the number who counted in Thai roughly equalled those who did so in Malay (1979, p. 40). Certain topics are associated with specific places. In other words, different localities in Cabetigo possess different default language settings. Many children studying the Qur’an’ between Norib and Iso in Cabetig, do so at Pok Ma’ Gu’s house who speaks absolutely no Thai. The complete absence of Thai in this first chapter of Islamic education explains some of the reasons why Malay became the default language at the Surau Rim Khlong a short walk up the road. While Pok Ma’ Gu’s house and Surau Rim Khlong teach religion, a wide range of topics are discussed in Cabetigo’s keda kopi. This is done in a mixture of Thai and Malay. Furthermore, there are a range of factors that determine which language is chosen. One morning, I arrived as the eight o’clock news was being broadcast in Omar’s roti shop. I took my seat at the completion of a news item analysing the latest developments in Thai politics. This was the topic of discussion thereafter, all of which was conducted in Thai. There followed a special report concerning a fatal bombing in the fresh market in Yala, which everyone immediately turned to watch. People then returned to their roti and tea, and began talking about their reactions to the bombing—this time in Malay. Not long after this, a Thai-speaking friend appreciated for his wit and his eye for the ridiculous joined us. He was invited, in Thai, to add his opinion to those which had just been shared. He obliged by regaling

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us with red-hot intelligence obtained from his mother-in-law, an ore meneko in the fresh market. These anecdotes featuring Jamilah, Pok Ma’ Gu’s house, Surau Rim Khlong and Omar’s roti shop illustrate the influence of the topic, and location on language in Cabetigo. The following vignette about how the presence of an accidental anthropologist in the conversational ointment occasionally affected the language I encountered. On one memorable occasion, a Thai-speaking informant once referred to “Phra Muhammad”. When I said that I had never heard someone use this term, he explained that this was a way of talking about a religious leader in Thai. He continued, “If I was talking to another Muslim, I would say nabi (Ar.) or sasada (Th.) Muhammad, or Rasul-Allah (Ar.). We use this when we are talking about Islam with non-Muslims”.

Conclusion This chapter has delineated how Cabetigo’s religious, ethnic and linguistic diversity have been impacted by the Thai and Islamic influences described in the previous chapter. It is difficult to overstate the importance of this chapter’s portrayal of these aspects the fieldwork context in which this study is situated. For instance, the rituals through which merit is made and what motivates merit-generation are both affected by an individual’s traditionalist or reformist orientation. The following chapter demonstrates that the language in which merit-making rhetoric is articulated affects our understanding of Muslim merit-making. I have shown that as with other urban communities in Muslim Southeast Asia, decades of reformist and revivalist activism in South Thailand have led to unprecedented religious diversity—and occasionally division—in Cabetigo. While traditionalists are the overwhelming majority, the influence of reformism in Cabetigo is disproportionate to their numbers. The vast majority of people in Cabetigo identify themselves as Malay. The presence of the last sultan of Patani/Pattani’s palace, the royal mosque (PM. masyid rajo) and the cemetery (PM. kubor) all remind Cabetigo residents of their Malay heritage. Cabetigo’s residents are more cosmopolitan than most rural communities in the far-south for at least two reasons. First, Cabetigo possesses a sizable population of immigrant Muslims from Yemen, Pakistan, Bangkok or Nakhon Si Thammarat, most of whom comfortably identifying themselves as Thai Muslims. Secondly, most Malays in Cabetigo view their Thai citizenship as complementing— rather than competing—with their sense of belonging to the Malay world. This has made led to increasing numbers of Malays to voluntarily refer to themselves as Thai Muslims. The increase in Malay bilingualism has led to the establishment of a Thai cosmopolis in Cabetigo brought about by the policies of past Thai governments. Some policies, such as the forced registration of ponoks as PSTI were stick-like policies, while the concessions to Muslim demands in the 1980s were more carrot-like. Concluding this chapter with details of modern multi-lingualism prepares readers for the following chapter that is concerned with Thai and Malay merit-making rhetoric.

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Parks, T. I. (2009). Maintaining peace in a neighbourhood torn by separatism: The case of Satun province in southern Thailand. Small Wars & Insurgencies, 20(1), 185–202. Pitsuwan, S. (1985). Islam and Malay nationalism: A study of the Malay-Muslims of southern Thailand. Bangkok: Thai Khadi Research Institute. Prachuabmoh, C. (1980). The role of women in maintaining ethnic identity and boundaries: A case of Thai-Muslims (The Malay Speaking Group) in southern Thailand. Ph.D. Thesis, University of Hawaii, Prachuabmoh, C. (1989). The role of women in maintaining ethnic identity and boundaries: A case study of Thai-Muslims (the Malay-speaking Group) in South Thailand. In A. D. W. Forbes (Ed.), The Muslims of Thailand. Volume 2. Politics of the Malay-speaking south (pp. 113–150). Bihar: Centre for South East Asian Studies. Satha-Anand, C. (1992). Pattani in the 1980s: Academic literature and political stories. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, 7(1), 1–38. Satha-Anand, C. (1993). Kru-ze: A theatre for renegotiating Muslim identity. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, 8(1), 195–218. Satha-Anand, C. (2005). The life of this world: Negotiated lives in Thai society. (Islam in Asia). Singapore: Marshall Cavenish. Satha-Anand, C. (2008). Untying the Gordian Knot: The difficulties in solving southern violence. In J. Funston (Ed.), Divided over Thaksin: Thailand’s coup and problematic transition (pp. 96–109). Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Scupin, R. (1978). Thai Muslims in Bangkok: Islam and modernization in a Buddhist society. Ph.D. Thesis, University of California, Santa Barbara. Scupin, R. (1980). Islamic reformism in Thailand. Journal of the Siam Society, 68(2), 1–10. Scupin, R. (1988). Language, hierarchy and hegemony: Thai Muslim Discourse Strategies. Language Sciences, 10(2), 331–351. Scupin, R. (1998). Muslim accommodation in Thai society. Journal of Islamic Studies, 9(2), 229–258. Shamsul, A. B. (1996). Debating about identity in Malaysia: A discourse analysis. Tonan Ajia Kenkyu, 34(3), 566–600. Shamsul, A. B. (1999). From Orang Kaya Baru to Melayu Baru: Cultural constructions of the Malay ‘New Rich’. In M. Pinches (Ed.), Cultural and privilege in capitalist Asia (Vol. 87–110). London: Routledge. Shamsul, A. B. (2004). A history of an identity, an identity of a history: The idea and practice of Malayness in Malaysia reconsidered. In Barnard (Ed.), Contesting Malayness: Malay identity across boundaries (pp. 125–148). Singapore: Singapore University Press. Smalley, W. A. (1994). Linguistic diversity and national unity: Language ecology in Thailand. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Suhrke, A. (1977). Loyalists and separatists: The Muslims in southern Thailand. Asian Survey, 57(3), 237–250. Suwannathat-Pian, K. (1994). The Sam-Sams: A study of historical and ethnic assimilation in Malaysia. Sojourn: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast Asia, 9(1), 135–162. Suwannathat-Pian, K. (2000). The historical development of the Thai-speaking Muslim communities in southern Thailand and northern Malaysia. In A. Turton (Ed.), Civility and savagery, social identity in Tai states (pp. 162–179). Richmond: Curzon Press. Suwannathat-Pian, K. (2008). National identity, and “Sam-Sams” of Satun, and the Thai Malay Muslims. In Montesano, & Jory (Eds.), Thai south and Malay north: Ethnic interactions on a plural peninsula (pp. 155–172). Singapore: NUS Press. Tadmor, U. (2004). Dialect endangerment; The case of Nonthaburi Malay. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, 160(4), 511–531. Thomas, L. M. (1982). The Thai Muslims. In R. Israeli (Ed.), The crescent in the east: Islam in Asia major (pp. 156–179). London and Atlantic Heights: Curzon and Humanities Press.

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Tsuneda, M. (2009). Navigating life on the border: Gender, marriage, and identity in Malay Muslim communities in southern Thailand. Ph.D. Thesis, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Madison. Umaiyah Haji Umar. (2003). The assimilation of Bangkok-Melayu communities in the Bangkok metropolis and surrounding areas. (Vol. 21 May 2004). Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya. Vickers, A. (2004). ‘Malay identity’: Modernity, invented tradition and forms of knowledge. In T. P. Barnard (Ed.), Contesting Malayness: Malay identity across boundaries (pp. 25–55). Singapore: Singapore University Press. Wenk, K., & Stahl, G. (1968). The restoration of Thailand under Rama I, 1972–1809. Tucson, AZ: Arizona University Press. Winzeler, R. L. (1985). Ethnic relations in Kelantan: A study of Chinese and Thai as ethnic minorities in a Malay state. Singapore: Oxford University Press. Yusuf, I. (2007). Faces of Islam in southern Thailand. (Working Paper No. 7). Washington, DC: East-West Center Washington.

Chapter 4

Thai and Malay Merit-Making Rhetoric

Abstract This chapter contains a mixture of theoretical and empirical material concerned with the rhetorical aspects of Muslim merit-making. This chapter’s first section delineates Thai and Malay merit-making rhetoric. The bilingual data provides new insights into what tham bun denotes. It is shown that asking what Muslims mean by tham bun is not the same as asking how Muslims make merit. Rather than a sign of syncretism, tham bun reveals that Thai-speaking Malays in Cabetigo have engaged in a search for equivalence in a language associated with another religious tradition. Case studies are introduced that reveal Cabetigo residents were not the first to seek equivalent terms following the demise of the language in which Islamic discourse had long been conducted. This chapter concludes by pointing out that Muslim merit-making rhetoric is replete with Arabic terms of Islamic ideation.

Introduction Although language-related issues have been included in previous chapters, this chapter is specifically concerned with the rhetoric aspects of Thai and Malay merit-making. A Sanskrit cosmopolis existed in Southeast Asia long before Islam’s increased adoption. As Islam spread, countless Indic concepts were transformed. Terms such as sembahyang and puasa were retained and Islamised, rather than replaced by the Arabic equivalents solat and saum. I believe the appropriation of Indic culture provided the template for Islam’s later adoption in Southeast Asian port city-states that created an Arabic (or Arabised) cosmopolis (Gould, 2008; Ricci, 2010, 2011). Although Bangkok’s incremental incorporation of southern Malays began in the late eighteenth century, significant changes followed in the wake of the Anglo-Siamese Treaty of 1909. Thai government initiatives of the twentieth century have greatly increased the number of Malays who speak Thai. Primary education was made compulsory, ponoks were transformed into PSTIs, Malay elites were co-opted into the Thai political process, and concessions were made to a range of Muslim demands. All these contributed to the dramatic changes in Cabetigo’s language ecology where a Thai and Malay cosmopolis now co-exists. This chapter is divided into three parts. It begins with a comparison of Thai and Malay merit-making rhetoric and decoding tham bun, which confirms that this term denotes more than the specific generation of merit. This chapter’s second section C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_4,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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critically considers the proposal that tham bun religious rhetoric is a sign of syncretism. I introduce case studies of Muslims forced to seek equivalent terms in languages which had only recently become the medium for Islam discourse. This chapter concludes with a description of the Arabic terms and Islamic ideation that Muslim merit-making rhetoric is replete with.

Delineating Merit-Making The following treatment answers two questions that are both equally important to this research, although for different reasons. What do Muslims in Cabetigo mean by tham bun? How do Muslims in Cabetigo make merit? A three-fold delineation of what Muslims mean by tham bun is forwarded based on the ritual context in references to tham bun, and targeted questions about how Malay-speakers refer to these same ritual performances. Although readers are already familiar with the Thai term tham bun, which has been glossed as merit-making, this term is also capable of referring to a number of ritual performances. Tham bun includes Islam’s ritual obligations or ‘ibadat (Ar. ‘ib¯adah). Each element of ‘ibadat possesses its own Thai correlate. For example, fardu prayers (Ar. salat) are referred to as lamaat and fasting (Ar sawm) is referred to as thue sin ot. Pilgrimages are denoted as either tham haj (or umroh) (Th. to “do” the haj or umroh) or sewaeng bun (Th. to seek merit). Finally, charity is referred to as tham than. Although specific Thai terms for these merit-generation performances exist, Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo routinely refer to these, and other, meritgenerating rituals simply as tham bun. By contrast, Malay-speakers employ Malay or Arabic terms specific to the ritual action or religious activity that generates pahalo (PM. merit). ‘Ibadat is glossed ama (SM. amal), amale (SM. amalan) or ama ‘ibadat (SM. amal ‘ibadat). Performances of ‘ibadat are sometimes referred to as wa’ amale (PM. Missing words). The general act of charity is referred to as sedekoh (PM. Missing words), prayer as semaye (SM. sembahyang), fasting as poso (SM. puasa) and pilgrimage as wa’ haj (SM. buat) or gi (SM. bergi) Mekkoh (PM. to go to Mecca). Malay-speakers may have occasionally referred to wa’ pahalo in their interactions with me. However, I consider these to have been literal translations of the important Thai religious idiom by Malay informants for my benefit. No Malays refer to wa’ pahalo when speaking among themselves. Merit may also be produced through a range of feasting complexes that dominated previous portrayals of Muslim merit-making in Thailand. Although ngaan liang (Th.) may sometimes be generically referred to as tham bun, these are social feasts in which no merit is generated. Ngaan liang are distinct from merit-generating tham bun feasts. Kin (Th. eat) bun is synonymous tham bun. Mawlid feasts held to commemorate the Prophet’s birthday are referred to in Thai as ngaan mawlid. A funeral feast where merit is made and sent (Th. song) to the deceased may be simply referred to as either tham bun, tham bun hai phusiachiwit (Th. to make merit for the dead) or as ngaan sop (Th. funeral “party”).

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How are these feasts referred to in Pattani Malay? While wa’ make, wa’ wajike, be’woh all denote merit-generating feasts, make pulot refers to social feasts associated with weddings where those attending are expected to make a donation. Many reformists prefer referring to social feasts as walimah (Ar.), where those attending make no donations. Aqiqoh refers to the feast held after the birth of a baby, and wa’ mawlid are feasts held to commemorate the birth of the Prophet. Finally, funeral feasts are referred to as wa’ arwoh; or wa’ ngatek. The following observations can be made about the summary of Thai and Pattani Malay merit-making terms in Tables 4.1 and 4.2. Many Thai terms revolve around the concept of bun. Bun and tham bun appear to represent two of the principal pieces of conceptual scaffolding on which Thai religious discourse is constructed. Bun has currency in any religious discussion: merit can be “made” (tham bun); pilgrims seek bun (sewaeng bun); bun is also made for the deceased (Th. tham bun hai phu sia chiwit); and tham bun may also be employed to denote a wide range of religious activity. Both Thai-Muslims and Thai-speaking Malays in Cabetigo acknowledge that bun and tham bun are distinctively Thai religious concepts. I was once told: You know, merit is a Thai religious thing to do—regardless of whether you are a Muslim or a Buddhist. We must make merit! If we do it with our heart, we believe that everything will be good for us—no matter whether we are a Muslim or Buddhist.

Table 4.1 Thai and Pattani Malay merit-making terms English

Thai (Th.)

Pattani Malay (PM.)

Merit Merit-making Prayer (salat) Reading the Qur’an Acts of charity Fasting Pilgrimage

Bun, phonlabun Tham bun Lamaat Aan al-Qur’an Tham thaan Thue sin ot Sewaeng bun, tham haj, pai Mekkoh

Pahalo, bajike Semaye Baco kure Sedekoh Poso Wa’ haj, wa’ haj, gi Mekkoh

Table 4.2 Thai and Pattani Malay terms for social and merit-making feasts English

Thai (Th.)

Pattani Malay (PM.)

Feast Circumcision feast Hair-cutting, and naming feast Wedding feast Funeral feast Mawlid feast House warming feast

Tham bun, kin bun Tham bun khaw sunnat Aqiqoh Ngaan liang Tham bun samrap phu sia chiwit Tham bun mawlid, ngaan mawlid Kuen baan mai

Wa’ make Make pulot Make pulot, aqiqoh Walimah, make pulot Wa’ arwoh, wa’ ngatek Wa’ mawlid Naik rumoh baru

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A bilingual Malay informant commented that Thai speakers frequently refer to bun, adding “Sometimes people don’t know what words to use or they are just in the habit of talking about these sorts of things”.1 Many claimed to possess an instinctive (Th. sanchatthian) understanding of bun, particularly compared to ignorant Westerners. When you make merit, Chris, you don’t think about it much. When you make merit, you get merit (PM. pahalo). But when you sin, you get demerit (PM. doso). All you know is that you have to do good! You aren’t able to differentiate between merit and demerit.

Another friend commented, “Westerners have to educate themselves about baap and bun, but in Asia, we know all about this. Westerners give money without thinking about merit. If they want to give some money, they just give it!” Whilst the Thai religious lexicon is dominated by bun, the Malay religious lexicon is broader and more differentiated. Merit is most commonly glossed in Pattani Malay as pahalo (SM. pahala), although the term bajike (SM. kebajikan) is also occasionally used. It was mentioned in Chapter 2 that pahala was one of many Indic terms that were retained and Islamised as the Sanskrit cosmopolis was replaced by an Arabic (or Arabised) one. Other examples of Sanskrit terms include sembahyang and puasa, which became default terms for prayer and fasting, replacing salat and saum. Arabic concepts for merits such as ajr (merit) or hasanah (good deeds), described by Marjo Buitelaar (1993) and Willy Jansen (2004) are entirely absent in Cabetigo. In Sanskrit, merit is glossed as punya or kusala. The Pali equivalents are puñña or kusala. Lehman argues that kusala specifically refers to one’s merit store which determines the trajectory of one’s subsequent existences. Puñña more specifically relates to the ethical quality, and right action and intention of one’s current existence (1996, p. 25). Brekke makes some important comments about the Sanskrit term phala from which pahala is derived. He cites the maxim that donations given for the increase of merit (punya) for one’s parents and the donor obtain a reward (phala) both in this world and in the next (1998, p. 294). As the Sanskrit cosmopolis was Islamised, phala was perhaps assessed to be more translatable than punya. Not only is the Malay religious lexicon more varied than its Thai equivalent, but it also includes Arabic terms. Malay provides a level of differentiation not possible through use of the more generic term tham bun. While Malay-speaking informants refer to the spiritual substance of merit as pahalo, it is reiterated here that no Malay equivalent (such as wa’ pahalo) exists for tham bun. The following three-fold delineation of tham bun can therefore be given. First, tham bun represents a Thai religious idiom for general religious activity.2 Secondly, tham bun also functions as a code for non-merit yielding social feasts. The third and final function of tham bun is incorrectly considered to be its only function: denoting merit-generating rituals and conduct. 1

He used the Thai term tit paak (to be stuck to your mouth). Charles Keyes was the first to refer to tham bun as a Thai idiom for undifferentiated religious activity (1983, p. 267).

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Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo employ tham bun in a range of contexts where specific Malay terms may be utilised by Malay-speakers, as demonstrated by the following extract from my field notes: Recently, a friend recalled that his mother had dreamed about a close relative of hers who had died some years ago. Because of this she arranged a feast to be held after Juma’at prayers on Friday, which her neighbours and relatives were invited to. After everyone had arrived, Ya Sin was read and “dedicated” to the dead relative. When this was completed, food was bought out and enjoyed by all. Being the first time that I had encountered this particular type of feast, I asked what this ritual feast was called. He answered with the Malay name “Baca Ya Sin hadioh tok nenek”. When I asked what you would say in Thai, he said “Oh, we would probably just say something like ‘we are making merit’” (Th. tham bun).

When Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo perform anything even vaguely religious, this may simply be referred to as tham bun. The element of performance sometimes dominates the specific production of merit. As related in Chapter 1, those curious about what worship looked like for me, enquired about how I made merit. Tham bun therefore represents an important and expansive religious idiom fundamental to Thai religious discourse that sometimes does no more than denote some form of religious activity. Tham bun also represents a code for social feasts that are unrelated to the generation of merit. Feasts that accompany weddings and circumcisions (PM. masuk jawi) are social events. Although no merit is generated for either the patron of those attending, these are nonetheless referred to as tham bun. This explains the confusion surrounding my denials that I was making-merit when I invited neighbours to our feast. Non-merit generating social feasts are referred to in a number of ways in Cabetigo. One Malay woman pointed out that, “Wedding banquets are called a make pulot. This is not considered a merit-making occasion as people are expected to come with a suitable contribution towards the cost for the feast. If you do not accept money, it is considered merit-making”. Another female informant referred to a wedding make pulot as a party, expressing surprise that I should associate merit with these. “It’s also a business. If we make a big loss or a small profit from donations that people attending give, it’s not a big deal”. Upon receiving an invitation card to a make pulot, those attending are expected to bring a small donation. Some of the poorer members of the community half-jokingly quipped that these cards represented a community tax (Th. paasii chumchon), and laughed when I asked whether these produced merit. There were other reasons for some feasts not generating merit. A male informant commented, “These are times to eat! There is no lamaat, prayer, reading or chanting. This is just a custom that we have created ourselves: people want money!” As social feasts generate no merit they will not be included in this study. The third aspect is that tham bun refers to a range of merit-generating and nonmerit generating conduct and ritual performances, which has wrongly assumed to be its only meaning. The descriptions given of merit-making rituals emphasise both their diversity and interconnectedness. Although the production of merit through

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Qur’anic readings and recitals, prayer (PM. semaye) and charity (PM. sedekoh) are all dealt with separately, there are numerous connections between them. The Qur’an is embedded within salat. Qur’anic readings and recitations frequently follow fardu prayers, and sedekoh may include recitals of Qur’anic ayat over the food being donated. Furthermore, salat, Qur’anic readings and recitations, and sedekoh are the discrete merit-generating elements in the merit-making complexes of Ramadan, pilgrimages to Mecca and feasting complexes.

The Searches for Equivalence Although viewed by some commentators as a sign of syncretism I argue that tham bun represents a search for equivalence: that Thai-speaking Muslims have adopted this religious idiom as part of their attempt to think Islamic thoughts in Thai. The search for equivalence is a phrase coined by Tony Stewart (2001), who argues that a sustained encounter between religious systems eventually leads to the appropriation and incorporation of new terms and concepts. This incorporation is an extended act of translation or search for equivalence (2001, p. 263). Although all translations search for equivalent terms, the nature of the equivalence sought is determined by two things: the concept being translated from a source language (SL); and the desired result in the target language (TL). The four principal forms of equivalence, which are briefly described below, are formal (or literary), refracted, dynamic and intersemiotic. “Formal (or literary) equivalence” operates on the (somewhat misguided) notion that each idea is capable of being literally translated from the source to the target language without its meaning being altered in any way. Although most applicable for simple terms, even these sometimes require some form of clarification. By contrast, translations that seek “refracted equivalence” are primarily concerned with finding approximations that mirror or reflect an original idea. Nevertheless, this often refracts, or distorts, the term in the source language—hence its name. Such distortion is most likely to occur when there are differences in how the translated term is conceived in the various communities that use them (see Lefevre, 1982). Although all accept that it is appropriate to refer to merit-generation through supererogatory, or sunnat as tham bun, there is no consensus vis-à-vis Islam’s ritual obligations. Unlike refracted equivalence, “dynamic equivalence” is less concerned with the precise content of a term, than its role and function in the target language’s social context (see Nida, 1964, 1969). Stewart refers to the related concept of “intersemiotic translation” as “culture translation”. “Intersemiotic equivalence” is concerned with more than purely lexical issues. Distinct cultural systems may possess words, but these are windows into their conceptual worlds (see Wierzbicka, 1997). Intersemiotic or cultural translations assert that two conceptual worlds are capable of addressing similar problems in similar ways which are mutually comprehensible.

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While language and religion are distinct, both express what is of value in a culture. Translations approximate the structure of a culture’s “thought world”. Nonetheless, every translation is both deficient (saying less than it wishes) and exuberant (saying more than it intended) (Stewart, 2001, p. 275). Webb Keane’s principal reason for insisting that all anthropologists interested in beliefs must pay attention to religious rhetoric is that each language possesses unique conceptual predispositions. The minds of Thai and Malay-speaking Muslims are furnished with a conceptual configuration that non-native speakers may only be capable of expressing after taking the appropriate courses in philosophy (see Keane, 2005, p. 444).3 Two case studies of seventeenth century Muslims forced to search for equivalent terms in languages associated with another religious traditions are introduced below. Following the abandonment of Persian as the language of Islamic discourse the Bengali scholar Saiyad Sultan, and Chinese ulama Wang Tai-yu and Liu Chih wrote about Islamic topics in languages whose conceptual repertoire was affected by Sanskrit and neo-Confucianism. Tony Stewart (2001) questions textual specialists who have evaluated a number of Islamic treaties written in the seventeenth century by Bengali scholars as being “syncretistic”. The assertion that these authors sought to create new religious identities or practices is largely based on their use of non-Muslim vocabulary. Stewart reconstructs the process through which pre-modern Muslim writers began expressing Islamic concepts within the constraints of the Bengali language. In the pre-colonial Bengali-speaking world, a unique flowing together of linguistic and cultural influences had occurred. Bengali literature of this period is replete with examples of overtly religious texts using technical terms that today identify sectarian affiliation. These texts cannot, therefore, be classified as Islamic or Hindu solely on the basis of the language in which they were written. Many Islamic texts possessing both Islamic and Hindu religious terms were frequently dismissed by scholars as “well-intentioned, but somehow confused, or at least confusing” (2001, pp. 263–264). Stewart offers an alternative explanation of Islam’s encounter with the Bengali thought world. He argues that these texts reveal Bengalis attempting to express Islamic ideas in the words that were locally available. The lack of explicitly Islamic religious vocabulary at the time, which would surely have been used if it had existed, required writers to appropriate other linguistic and cultural terms. These texts therefore record the first attempts to think Islamic thoughts in Bengali. Although a wide range of Islamic technical terms of Persian and Arabic origin eventually found their way into Bengali, Saiyad Sultan wrote in a language replete with non-Islamic concepts. Discussing Islam in Bengali required expressing ideas

3 This position resembles the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis of linguistic relativity associated with linguists Edward Sapir and Benjamin Lee Whorf. This is distinct from the more radical proposal of linguistic determinism that asserts that one’s thinking is determined by language.

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completely absent in the original Bengali thought-world. Nevertheless, Bengali was capable of conveying the message of Islam, as it possessed concepts denoting elements of Islamic cosmology and theology (2001, p. 269). Such conceptual capacity was provided by Sanskrit, which like other South Asian vernaculars, was Bengali’s parent language (see Pollock, 2006). Through a process that undoubtedly involved the translation of Sanskrit epics, Bengali religious literature was able to tap into Sanskrit where it accessed a “rich and precise vocabulary with words and phrases often being appropriated in toto without any modification” (2001, p. 274). The ability of multi-lingual Bengali authors to shift between Bengali and Sanskrit brought about a highly Sanskritised Bengali. Over and above this search for equivalence having led Saiyad Sultan to translate Allah as vishnu-narayana, perhaps the most striking search for equivalence is found in his references to Muhammad as an avatar. Islamic tradition does, after all, assert that Muhammad was sent to guide mankind back to the path of proper teaching. Stewart dismisses suggestions that those who read these references to Muhammad being an avatar would have either missed the Islamic meaning, or interpreted this as a claim of divinity. Not only did Saiyad Sultan dynamically translate an idea in context, he also used Bengali for new ends. Although Stewart is adamant that his translations do not attempt to create something strange and new, that he was creative and improvisational is undeniable. Nonetheless, Saiyad Sultan was fully aware of what he was attempting, and was not confusing Islam with Hinduism. The second case study of Muslims searching for equivalence is the adoption of Chinese writing by the Chinese ulama Wang Tai-yu and Liu Chih that Sachiko Murata describes (2000, 2009). Neither of these ulama wrote apologetic works. Their intended readership was fellow Muslims and they wrote on Islamic topics in a completely non-Islamic idiom, making only occasional references to the Qur’an, hadith, shariah or the principles of Islam (Ar. usul al-din) (2003, p. 108). An important reason why Arabic proper names and terms are absent in these treaties was that these were extremely difficult to transliterate into Chinese. Wang Tai-yu and Liu Chih re-expressed “basic Islamic perspectives in the context of the intellectual traditions of the day”: neo-Confucianist (2003, p. 109). This could not have been achieved if these ulama had not been both grounded in traditional Islamic learning and fluent in Chinese intellectual traditions. Murata claims that every Chinese word employed by them to communicate Islamic ideas had precedents and connotations in Chinese traditions. As such, certain words would not have been recognised as Islamic had they not been encountered in an Islamic text (Murata, 2003, pp. 112–113). Some words offered alternative interpretations of the basic principles of Chinese thought (2003, p. 108). The Islamic concept tawhid (Ar. unity), which is rendered “returning to one”, resembles tao. Although in Buddhism tao refers to emptiness, this is a central concept in neo-Confucianism denoting the ultimate reality that gives rise to all things.

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God is referred to by the Chinese term “heaven” that in the Tang period denoted the Buddha.4 Some of Wang Tai-yu and Liu Chih’s works grew to be highly regarded for their sophisticated expositions of principles in Chinese thought, such that they eventually contributed to neo-Confucian thinking. Wang was in fact criticised for his familiarity with Taoist and Buddhist teachings. His response was that without borrowing this terminology, any explanation of Islam to those unfamiliar with the Islamic languages would be impossible. Liu Chih’s aim was to make Islamic learning available in Chinese. Like Wang, he rejected the suggestion that there was any conflict between Islamic teachings and the philosophical system of neo-Confucianism (2003, p. 111). Murata claims that the philosophical, theological and cosmological sophistication in the works of Wang and Liu Chih are without precedent in Islamic history. One of the reasons for this is that Muslims only rarely expressed themselves in languages such as Chinese once an Arabic cosmopolis is created. Although the Persian possessed its own intellectual heritage, by the time Chinese had begun adopting this, it had long been extensively transformed by Arabic (2003, p. 112). Just as Bengali and Chinese Muslims were unconcerned by the function of avatar in Hinduism, and the rendering of tawhid with the neo-Confucianism of tao, no one in Cabetigo experience angst that pahalo was a concept used by Indic predecessors. The adoption of tham bun religious rhetoric by Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo should therefore be viewed as a recent example of a long-standing and widespread phenomenon. As described below, this is not the only reason for rejecting proposals that tham bun religious rhetoric is a sign of syncretism.

Arabic Terms and Islamic Ideation My descriptions of merit-making rituals in the following three chapters are replete with references to Arabic terms and Islamic ideation such as ‘ibadat, wajib, sunnat, niat, ikhalah and halal funds. The following treatment is informed by Denny’s insistence that such terms must be mastered by any scholar attempting to unpack Islamic rituals (1985, p. 77). Islam is appreciated by most in Cabetigo for its provision of detailed directions in all areas of life, including politics, economics, domestic issues, marriage, the ritual performance of personal hygiene and ritual purity. Din is only inadequately translated as “religion”—it is a comprehensive way of life. 4 Other examples of using existing concepts include: God as “Lord” (chu), “Real Lord” (chenchu), “Real One” (chen-yi) and “Real Ruler” (chen-tsai); Muhammad as “Sage” (sheng), “Ultimate Sage” (chih-sheng), “Chief Servant” (shou-p u), and “Ambassador” (ch’in-chia); The Qur’an was called the “Classic” (ching); Adam was referred to as the “human ancestor” (Jen-tsu); Jinn became “gods and demons” (shen-kuei) with Satan being “chief god” (shou-shen); Paradise was called “heaven-country” (t’ien-kuo) or the “world of ultimate happiness” (chi-lo), while hell was named “earth prohibited” (ti-chin) or “earth prison” (ti-yu).

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Before I began an interview with a man well respected in Cabetigo for his knowledge of Islam, he assured me that he would be able to answer all my questions. He stated, “In Islam, there is great clarity on every issue. So, when you ask, it is easy for me to answer”. His wife, who had been listening in the next room, added through the open door, “The thing about Islam is that it is very detailed. This is very good!” This couple was not alone in this belief. Another informant explained: Everything that is stipulated—the reward for their performance, as well as the punishment of their non-performance—has clearly been written about for over 1,000 years. In the Qur’an we are told what we have to do from the day we are born until the day we die. When we die, things are not yet over, as there is another world where we will be questioned about the good and the bad we have done. Islam regulates the things we do every day. When you do those things, you will be rewarded. If you don’t do them, it will be baap (Th. demerit) for you. This is clear! It’s up to us. You are under the regulations that Allah has sent. You can’t refuse to do these things! So, bun and baap—whether big or small—are very clear in Islam.

These led some to be unwilling or uninterested to express opinions. I was once told by a friend, “I don’t know the answer to that, and it doesn’t really matter what I think, anyway! Islam stipulates what is right and wrong. The details are all set. There are no gaps. In Islam, we can’t use our own intellect because everything has been stipulated”. Not all agreed. A Pakistani neighbour once commented on how confused people were nowadays, stating, “There are so many groups! I’m pretty laid back about it all. I just want to do what is right in the sight of Allah. When it comes to religion, there is neither right nor wrong. It’s up to the individual. Sometimes we don’t know”. The Arabic words and Islamic concepts that are most common in Muslim meritmaking religious rhetoric are described below. Mention has already been made to the neglect of ‘ibadat, or ama ‘ibadat in previous studies of Muslim merit-making. In the three chapters that follow, I reveal that the normative means through which Muslims in Cabetigo generate merit for themselves is through the performance of the range of compulsory and supererogatory rituals generically referred to as ‘ibadat, or ama ‘ibadat. These ritual elements must be performed correctly in order for a religious reward to be received. For instance, salat must be preceded by ablutions appropriate to one’s degree of defilement, performed in clean clothes, facing the qiblat (PM. the direction of Mecca) in a place where salat is not prohibited. All Arabic prayers and the surahs from the Qur’an must also all be recited correctly. As a Thai-Muslim neighbour explained: Some sorts of merit-making are compulsory. There are others sorts that aren’t. From the Islamic perspective, fasting is commanded. Every year, there is one month. Every day, there are five prayer times. There are other things, like paying the annual zakat, and performing the haj. This is a type of merit-making that we do because it is commanded.

Merit-making was held by some to be an essential part of what it meant to be a Muslim. For instance, merit-making fulfils one’s duties to the Creator, as a Malay man stated:

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If you are a Muslim, you must take a pledge. You first have to understand this pledge though. We must believe in Allah. We must know Allah. When we believe, we will do what we must do. There are three aspects of being a Muslim: being a Muslim with our mouth, body and heart. We have to confess then believe. Finally, we have to do.

I heard many claims that merit-making showed who were good Muslims. I noted a Thai Muslim neighbour active in the Tablighi Jama’at explaining to his son the necessity of merit-making by stating that it “differentiates between good and bad people. If we do good (Th. tham di)—if we make merit (tham bun)—it shows to everyone that we are a good person”. Many respondents remarked that Muslims are always making merit, and that merit can be made a number of ways. Without detracting from the importance of wajib elements of ‘ibadat (that are dealt with below), one Cabetigo resident insisted that, “merit-making is not just semaye, you know”. Another pointed out, “There are other ways to make merit—there’s no problem with that! There are other meritorious things you can do yourself”. A number of Arabic terms describe degrees of approval, obligation and prohibition in conduct, religious worship, social conduct and societal governance. All these are embedded in the Malay religious lexicon. These are frequently employed when articulating and conceptualising merit and merit-making. Halal (PM. hale) denotes permissible conduct or substances, while haram (PM. hare) refers to that which is forbidden and punished with demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso). Makruh denotes things that are discouraged. Although no demerit is incurred by those who avoid the makruh, those who observe it are rewarded with merit. Sunnat refers to supererogatory rituals that generate merit, but whose non-performance does not cause demerit. The terms mandoob (Ar. commendable or recommended) and mustahabb (Ar. favoured) are entirely absent in Cabetigo. These appear to have been subsumed under the term sunnat. Sunnat is considered by many in Cabetigo to be the opposite of wajib, which denotes ritual obligations that are rewarded with bun or pahalo. Non-performance is punished with demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso). Wajib resembles fardu. Although some consider these to be synonymous, others point out that fardu prayers possess wajib elements. The wajib elements of ‘ibadat (or ama ‘ibadat) are also referred to as the pillars (Ar. rukon) of Islam. As is well known, these are the shahada, performance of the fardu prayers, the fast of Ramadan, payment of the annual zakat, and (for those possessing the financial means) the haj to Mecca. There is no consensus among Cabetigo’s Muslim residents about whether the wajib elements of ama ‘ibadat are adequately described as tham bun. Some refer to wajib obligations as tham bun on account of these being ritual performances. Others do so as these generate merit. An elderly Malay man who often led prayers at Surau Rim Khlong commented on this issue of obligation in the following manner: The pillars (PM. rukon) of Islam are types of tham bun that we do because they are commanded. We do them without expecting to be rewarded in any way. You see, we have all been created by Allah. We are Allah’s most perfect creations. Why have we been created? To do the practice prescribed! Suppose we do what is required by Allah. Are we making merit? No! We are merely doing what is required of us from Allah. Out of his kindness,

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when we do what is commanded, we are rewarded by Allah. Suppose we have a lord and we are his slave. We have to do what we are commanded. We are thankful that we have a lord. Whatever Allah gives us we are thankful for. No one commands Allah what to give (as reward). It is not that Allah is commanded to reward us. It is us that are commanded!

I once asked another Malay man who had worked overseas for many years about whether feasts and sedekoh could be referred to as tham bun. Although his answer was overwhelmingly affirmative, when I enquired about whether fardu prayers were tham bun, I was told that these were a Muslim’s responsibilities. “We have to pray. We get merit, but it is not merit-making! Salat is ama ‘ibadat. We must pray! This is not tham bun. This is doing what is required in Islam. This ama ‘ibadat—all five elements—are every individual Muslim’s responsibility”. I received the following reply when I reiterated that my question was whether salat was a way of making merit: We receive merit for doing this. It’s like this: if you employ me to work for eight hours a day and I don’t [work], then I’m likely to be fired by you. Right!? Allah created man—from his head to his toes! We must worship him! Lamaat isn’t merit-making—it’s a responsibility. Smiling is merit-making. Being nice is merit-making. Making other people happy is meritorious.

I continued, asking, “If we fast, we get merit, right?” “Yes”, he replied. “But this is wajib, right?” “Yes. If we don’t, it’s a sin. If I don’t smile at someone, it’s not sinful! But if I smile, I get merit!” he replied with a smile on his face. I questioned countless others in Cabetigo about whether lamaat or semaye was a type of merit-making. He answered: “Lamaat is different. Bun is bun. Lamaat is lamaat. Lamaat is our responsibility”. A middle-aged Malay woman offered the following answer to a question concerning salat and sawm. Ah they are big! I’m not sure whether fasting only (without performing lamaat) will be enough. If we only pray, it is not enough. We have to do everything that is in the five rukon Islam. When we do good we must be pure (PM. ikhalah). We also shouldn’t hope for much from Allah. We should just do it because it is our responsibility. The most important thing is that Allah is pleased with us, particularly in regard to the things he has commanded. In Islam, we are his servants. In Islam, we do things because they are commanded and because we believe in them. All of this is done without regard for the rewards that we might receive in this life.

Some respondents insisted that there were ontological distinctions between the merit generated from wajib and sunnat ritual elements. The absolute necessity of merit to one’s survival in the world to come led many to compare the merit obtained from wajib ritual elements with rice. For instance, “If we don’t eat rice, we will surely die! It is the same with merit-making. We must make merit if we want to get to heaven”. On another occasion a Malay informant explained, “While we all enjoy a good curry, no one can survive on curry alone. We eat a little curry with a lot of rice. This is the way it should be”. Still another stated, “If we do the things that are wajib, it is like we have [only] rice to eat. The other things we do are like having curries, fruit or sweets to eat as well. These other things we do will increase

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our merit”. In response I asked why he needed to do these other sunnat things. He replied, “If we eat only rice, we will only be filled with rice. If we do things that are sunnat, there will be other things to eat. I don’t know how much merit we will get from the things we do though”. Other informants differentiated between big merit from wajib rituals and smaller merit from sunnat rituals. One compared these to compulsory and voluntary school subjects: Everyone must pray. If they do pray, then doing something else is fine. But if you don’t pray and do these other things then you have problems. These other rituals are special or voluntary in nature. It is like when we are a student. There are compulsory and voluntary subjects. If we do all sorts of voluntary subjects, yet haven’t done all the compulsory subjects we should have, will we pass? You can do these, but you must to the compulsory things first!

In addition to rice, and compulsory subjects, the merit which wajib ritual obligations generated was also likened to the main house pillar (PM. thiye, Th., saw lak). These things (semaye and poso) are like the pillar (PM. thiye) of a house. The other things— the paint, the windows, the furniture—are the things that make the house complete. The Rukon Islam are the main principles on which Islam is built.

Commenting on lamaat, another informant remarked “Oh! That is the biggest way we make merit! Every Muslim must lamaat. It is the pillar (PM. thiye) of Islam. All the little things depend on the centre post! This is the easiest analogy”. A young Malay man elaborated on this issue by pointing out that merit made through wajib ‘ibadat was more important than the sunnat practices like sedekoh. “These are extras. Building a house is more important than having furniture and decorations. If you do both, then that is the best. The wajib is the most important”. Assertions that merit generated by wajib elements of ‘ibadat, is bigger than any made from non-compulsory equivalents is a distinctively Islamic conception of merit-generation. As the following anecdote shows, these views are widely held in Cabetigo. When I asked an 85-year-old Malay woman about whether the pahalo yielded by ritual obligations were different from those that are sunnat, she replied, “The pahalo is differentthe pahalo from wajib ‘ibadat is bigger”. On one occasion I invited a neighbour to speculate on whether the pahalo from feasts and ‘ibadat were the same. He replied, “The pahalo from things that are commanded (hok tuhe suruh) are bigger”. Another informant opined, “If we do the things that are compulsory we get big merit, if we don’t its demerit”. A Malay woman commented that meritmaking through ‘ibadat is better, “Pahalo from semaye is the best type of pahalo. It is a must for Muslims to pray. It is not a must for Muslims to make sedekoh!” My landlord, Ali, justified his ascertains of the sufficiency of wajib prayer, fasting, pilgrimage and zakat with the following story: There is a story recounted in the hadith of an Arab man that went to Rasul Allah and asked him this question: “If I keep the five fardu prayers, and if I fast during the blessed month of Ramadan, and if I pay the compulsory annual zakat to the poor and needy as Allah ta’alla

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has commanded, and if I make the pilgrimage to Mecca once in my lifetime . . . If I do all these things, will I get to heaven?” Upon hearing this person’s question, Rasul Allah replied emphatically, “Yes”.

There was wide disapproval in Cabetigo of those who did not fulfill their ritual obligations. Nonetheless, although the performance of Rukon Islam (Ar. pillars of Islam) shows one’s religion, sunnat prayers and Qur’anic readings and recitations reveal the depth of one’s devotion, and acts of charity (PM. sedekoh) show one’s heart. All supererogatory performances were viewed as generating merit, no demerit was incurred through non-performance, and all these may be referred to as tham bun. This verifies the conclusions reached by other anthropologists who have studied merit accumulation. Willy Jansen, in her study of Algerian women, commented that: Of the two types of meritorious deeds, not so much the obligatory ones of praying, fasting and almsgiving bring religious credit, but rather the voluntary acts in excess of the prescribed ones. Such voluntary practices may consist of fasting extra days, saying more prayers than required, giving more than generous alms, visiting graves or showing much devotion (2004, p. 2).

Rachel McCleary adds that salvific merit is earned by performing more than what is required by the five pillars: Sadaka or voluntary charity is another supererogatory act, which can be extended to Muslims and non-Muslims (fourth pillar). Giving more than one’s fixed rate of zakat, giving donations when one is not obligated to do so, and giving to people to whom one is not obligated (sadaka) earns the doer salvific merit. Finally, salvific merit is earned when one performs the minor hajj, the ‘umra (fifth pillar) (2007, p. 68).

Another example of Islamic ideation in Muslims merit-making rhetoric is niat, or a silent or audible intention that prefaces and/or follows ritual performances.5 A niat precedes each performance of salat specific to the fardu prayer about to be performed. Such a niat specifies whether this is sunnat or wajib prayer that consists of two, three or four raka’ats.6 Although niat and du’o (PM. petitionary prayer or blessing) are distinct, a niat often follows the reading or recital of the Qur’an for the benefit of the deceased. The Thai-Muslim neighbour of mine who is enthusiastically involved in the Tabligh Jama’at explained that after he has read a surah or ayat of the Qur’an (all of which he claimed was equally powerful and meritorious) he makes a niat. By doing so, “this merit reaches and helps the ancestors that I name”. As the following Malay informant explains a niat was not necessary when the recipients were one’s parents: When a son reads the Qur’an, the pahalo goes automatically to the father without him having to niat anything. For other people there needs to be a niat though. We have to mention their names, “I dedicate my pahalo from the reading of Qul-hul-Allah to Abdullah”. Like that! We have to mention names. When a son reads the Qur’an, the pahalo goes to his father automatically without needing to mention names. 5 6

For a recent treatment of niat see Powers (2004). For example, “I intend to pray two Jama’at of Suboh for Allah Ta’ala facing towards Ka’bah”.

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Without a niat, no merit is produced. I had long admired a neighbour of mine who had taken the initiative to organise games for the teenage boys in the alley (Th. soi, PM. lorong) behind our house. By doing so, he provided alternatives to these young men indulging in recreational drug use or wasting time (and money) in internet game shops. On one occasion, I asked whether this was a good deed that he expected to receive merit for. He replied, “This was not my niat. There are many problems in this community. I just wanted to do something about it”. As the meritoriousness of an act requires a niat, two people may perform equally meritorious acts, but merit will only be given to the person having made the niat. While discussing sedekoh with a group of women in a shop near our house one afternoon, I inquired about their confidence that they would receive merit. One of the woman answered, “Oh yes, we niat pahalo!” Another explained, “We think in our heart that we want to make merit, so we do something—that’s all. You can do it many ways”. They all agreed they were able to make merit anyway they wished— providing it was halal. One stated, “What is important is that we make our niat clear”. One elderly haji explained that even those who drowned while sailing across the Indian Ocean received their reward due to having made this niat. Similarly, pilgrims who failed to arrive at Arafat before sunset on its first day (perhaps after getting separated from their group) were considered by some to still be able to complete that haj due to their niat. The Indonesian scholar, Abdul Ghoffir Muhaimin, argues that niat possesses the ability to transform mundane activities into religious (and potentially merityielding) actions (2006, pp. 85–86). In Cabetigo I was often told, “We have to make a niat for everything we do, if we want it to be correct”. I pressed a Malay friend in an interview about how certain he would be rewarded for his good deeds. He replied “Sure! I niat pahalo!” However, there was such a thing as an invalid niat as the following informant explained: “Merit-making in Islam is all to do with the heart. If we intend to show off, then that is not merit-making—it’s boasting”. I frequently enquired about whether the feasts I had attended with informants produced merit for the host. On one occasion some responded incredulously, exclaiming “What?! On this earth! Sure! Oh, everyone sees he has money and lots of friends. As I said, it depends on our heart—his niat was to show off!” Many contrasted merit-making with making face (Th. tham naa or raksaa naa). The owner of the roti shop, Omar, insists that four or five people are enough for those wanting to hold a feast. However, “Some people aren’t content with that—they want there to be heaps of people to make everyone comment, ‘Oh! This guy has many friends’. That sort of merit-making is worthless. He’s showing off!” A young Thai-Muslim insisted that one’s niat should be known only to Allah: “When we make merit, we mustn’t say anything to anyone”. The opposite opinion was held by the owner of one of Cabetigo’s many coffee shops. She confessed that

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when she is in a bad mood or experiencing difficulties, she makes merit. Whenever she does, she tells people exactly what she is doing: When I make merit, I prepare some bags of milo, with some snacks from the shop—donuts, roti, biscuits—and send these to someone who is sick or old. When we give these to the person, we will say “I have come to make merit for Allah” (aku sedekoh kelanak Allah ta’ala).

As well as ensuring that merit is generated, niat also determines who benefits. Sometimes the meritorious act of sedekoh is made with a niat that the merit-maker or some other individual in this world (PM. dunio) benefits. Although not needed when making merit for one’s parents, a niat is essential whenever making merit for the dead. Many recounted that by routinely making a niat that all in the kubor receive bun or pahalo. Some held that simply thinking of someone was sufficient. Making a niat to bless the deceased with bun divides the merit between the merit-maker and named beneficiary. Pok Ma’ Gu explained that merit can be halved like a coconut. Picking up a Malay bush knife (PM. paco’) he halved an imaginary coconut saying, “half goes to him, the other half goes to us!” Ikhalah (PM. sincerity, SM. ikhalas) is also viewed to be essential in Muslim merit-making. A Thai-Muslim woman described ikhalah in the following manner. The merit we receive depends on how we make merit, the place, and your overall objective or goal for doing so. Not everyone has the same ikhalah when they make merit. If you are 100% pure in what you do, then you can expect one 100% merit for these things that you have performed. Maybe, if your motives are only 50% pure, the merit you get for these will only be half of what it might have been. This shows the importance of our ikhalah when we make merit. If we do good so that others see—we get nothing! However, if we do good for God with the utmost pure motives, we will be rewarded with the full measure of merit.

Ikhalah is required when performing even the most basic ritual obligations. I was told that: “If we lamaat to get lots of merit, doing this in a big group at the surau is better [. . .] It depends on our heart. If our heart is not good, we won’t get any merit”. Another informant elaborated, “People can pray exactly the same waktu, at the same place, but they will receive different merit. This is based on their heart— on their niat and ikhalah”. Still another claimed, “The merit we get from the good things we do depends on our heart. What do we think about? Do we do things to help, or to get merit? Do we do it voluntarily? Are we boasting? Was it done with ikhalah?” More than any other method of merit-generation, acts of charity are scrutinised for irreligious niat and/or a lack of ikhalah. Are they seeking worldly rewards from people (PM. manusio, Th. manut) or spiritual rewards from Allah? It is significant that my enquiries about niat and ikhalah when making sedekoh frequently solicited answers that mentioned merit-making feastings. Are these highly ritualised forms of sedekoh that are augmented by a range of merit-generating performances? Highly public donations are roundly criticised in Cabetigo. An old Malay acquaintance of mine once opined:

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Some rich people make merit, saying “I’ll give 100,000 baht!!” If we have ikhalah, we can make merit with little things—even 50 setang.7 Some see how much people donate saying, “Oh so much!” But are they sincere and pure?

One Malay motorbike taxi driver stated that making merit requires that you to have Ikhalah before Allah: You can do anything, like giving a rambultan to someone. But it has to be done with the ikhalah, which determines whether these acts will generate some benefit for the person or merit from Allah.

With knowledge about the Thai words for motivation (Th. kamlang jai) and (Th. kamlang ngern) and the power of your money, a Thai-Muslim woman who owned one of the most popular restaurants in Cabetigo commented: Merit-making doesn’t depend on our kamlang ngern, but on our kamlang jai. You don’t have to invite lots of people, maybe only seven people. This is also merit-making. We can do anything that helps people, especially people with little opportunity, or the elderly. We do this from our heart more than our wallet. When we help people, merit doesn’t necessarily follow either! It depends on our heart, which only Allah can see.

Many viewed that ikhalah being impossible without anonymity. “If you don’t show off, giving one baht with ikhalah receives more merit that someone who builds a mosque without it”. Similar comments were made about people who have their names recorded on the public facilities for which they have made donations. A Malay woman who made coffee in a local shop insisted, “Everything has to do things with ikhalah—show-offs don’t get a thing! Merit-making has nothing to do with making huge donations and insisting that the donor’s name is written for all to see”. When I pressed whether this actually happens she responded emphatically saying, “Sure! They are addicted to their name. Doing things with ikhalah means doing things with our heart without publicising them”. This was an issue that many held strong opinions on. For a man I spoke to, having one’s name recorded on a mosque to which one made donations was useless. The reason for this was that merit-making is for Allah. He explained: Suppose I buy sarongs and fans to give to the mosque; it is OK for me to just quietly tell the Imam that I’ve brought these things for the mosque. If, however, I insist on my name being written down to let people know where all these have come from, it’s useless!

A wealthy Malay informant explained his disapproval of this practice. Rich people make merit. They say, “I’ll give 100,000 baht!” before adding “But I want my name there and I want a newspaper article written as well!”. Another person donates 10 baht. He doesn’t know a thing, but he’s a hard worker and looks after his money so that he can make a donation.

I responded skeptically, asking “Do people who make big donations really insist that this happens?” He replied, “Sure! But there are two points of view. There is

7

50 setang is the smallest unit of Thai currency.

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actually nothing wrong with your name being mentioned if you made a big donation with the utmost sincerity. We are not to be the judge”. I discussed this with a member of one of Cabetigo’s wealth family clans. He claimed he was quiet about the donations he makes. “I do these things in secret; otherwise I won’t get any merit. I might even get sin instead of merit! We must praise Allah, not people”. He tactfully added, “Maybe names were publicised without the person involved knowing it. We have to go for best case analysis, you know”. Another suggested that people in the past were less corrupt than today: It is possible that despite their names being recorded, their niat was pure (ikhalah). Sometimes children might insist on the name of their father be included on the chair at the mosque so that there is something tangible to remember their father by. I know that this happened with some of the chairs at the Pattani Central Mosque. Muhammad Wan Noor (a former Malay politician) did this with his donation at the Surau Rim Khlong. This was his practice.

A saying attributed to the Prophet was frequently quoted in such discussions: the right hand should not know what the left hand is doing (kita sedekoh, tange kane ho’ kito beri, tange kiring to’ tahu). Should merit-making involve the use of money, it must have been earned through halal means. For many, this excludes borrowed money. Could borrowed funds be used to hold a feast? The following person was emphatic that if one did so, no merit would be generated. She explained that this was the same with the haj—you can’t do the haj with money you have loaned. A Malay man explained what occasionally leads to feasts being funded by loans. When it is time for a son to be circumcised, some say to themselves, “Oh no! I have no money! I’d better borrow some to pay for the cow or buffalo!” I mentioned that I had never observed a feast of this size accompanying a masuk jawi in Cabetigo. He concurred, before adding: But in villages this is more common. Leaders, such as village headman, or provincial administration officials, are more likely to do this as they have status and influence. They say, “Oh I have to! I’m the village headman!” From my perspective, your feasts should be as big as you can afford.

Another informant emphasised that Muslims should make merit with the money they have and that “when we give we should not exceed our ability. If we have 50 baht, then give away 40 baht so that you have some to use”. Halal money cannot be made through activities forbidden by Islam. Ased explained: Where has the money come from to pay for the merit-making? Is it clean? Does it come from interest? Has anyone been cheated from the money that has been made? If so, it’s no use! The money has to be pure. There are heaps of people who use money they have acquired from interest, to make merit. Sure!! They might be Muslims. However, they have no education.

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Conclusion The rhetorical aspects in this study of Muslim merit-making are difficult to overemphasise. A combination of theoretical material and empirical data has been presented. Some of the insights given in this chapter about how tham bun functions in Thai Muslim religious rhetoric might not have been achieved had my informants been mono-lingual Thai-speakers. By paying attention to the ritual context of references to tham bun, and triangulating these with Malay equivalents, I decoded and delineated Thai and Malay religious rhetoric. I have also shown tham bun to represent a religious idiom for general religious activity—for which no Malay equivalent (such as wa’ pahalo) exists. Tham bun is also code for feast, including those which do not generate merit. Finally, tham bun also refers to the specific generation and accumulation of merit. As such, asking what Muslims mean by tham bun and enquiring about how Muslims make merit are both important, but for different reasons. Is tham bun religious rhetoric a sign of syncretism? If not, what alternative explanations exist? If tham bun was viewed as possessing Islamic credentials, what would such a position be based on? It has been revealed that the situation described in Cabetigo is far from unique. In the seventeenth century, Bengali and Chinese Muslims were forced to seek equivalent terms in languages closely associated with other religious traditions. Persian could no longer function as the language of Islamic discourse, as it was no longer sufficiently understood. Being located in Sanskrit cosmopolis, Stewart’s Bengali case study is of particular interest. Muslim merit-making rhetoric should also be viewed as both genuinely Thai and thoroughly Islamic as it is replete with Islamic Arabic terms and Islamic ideation. All these terms will be encountered in the following chapters describing the ritual performances through which Muslims in Cabetigo generate, accumulate and transfer merit.

References Brekke, T. (1998). Contradiction and the merit of giving in Indian religions. Numen, 45(3), 287–320. Buitelaar, M. (1993). Fasting and feasting in Morocco. Oxford, UK: Berg. Denny, F. M. (1985). Islamic ritual: Perspectives and theories. In R. C. Martin (Ed.), Approaches to Islam in religious studies (pp. 63–77). Oxford, UK: One World. Gould, R. (2008). How newness enters the world: The methodology of Sheldon Pollock. Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East, 28(3), 533–557. Jansen, W. (2004). The economy of religious merit: Women and Ajr in Algeria. The Journal of North African Studies, 9(4), 1–17. Keane, W. (2005). Language and religion. In A. Duranti (Ed.), A companion to linguistic anthropology (pp. 431–448). London: Blackwell. Keyes, C. F. (1983). Merit-transference in the Kammic theory of popular Theravada Buddhism. In C. F. Keyes & E. V. Daniel (Eds.), Karma: An anthropological inquiry (pp. 261–286). Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

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Lefevre, A. (1982). Mother courage’s cucumbers: Text, systems and refraction in a theory of literature. Modern Language Studies, 12(4), 3–19. Lehman, F. K. (1996). Can God be coerced? Structural correlates of merit and blessing in some Southeast Asian religions. In C. A. Kammerer & N. Tannenbaum (Eds.), Merit and blessing in mainland Southeast Asia in comparative perspective (pp. 20–52). New Haven, CT: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies. McCleary, R. M. (2007). Salvation, damnation, and economic incentives. Journal of Contemporary Religion, 22(1), 49–74. Muhaimin, A. G. (2006). The Islamic traditions of Cirebon: Ibadat and Adat among Javanese Muslims. Canberra, Australia: Australian National University e-Press. Murata, S. (2000). Chinese Gleams of Sufi Light: Wang Tai-yü’s great learning of the pure and real and Liu Chih’s Displaying the concealment of the real realm. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Murata, S. (2003). The Islamic encounter with the Chinese intellectual tradition. In A. A. Said & M. Sharify-Funk (Eds.), Cultural diversity and Islam (pp. 107–117). Lanham, MD: University Press of America. Murata, S., Chittick, W. C., Tu, W., & Liu, J. (2009). The sage learning of Liu Zhi: Islamic thought in Confucian terms. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Nida, E. A. (1964). Towards a science of translating. Leiden: Brill. Nida, E. A. (1969). Science of translation. Language, 45(3), 483–498. Pollock, S. I. (2006). The language of the Gods in the world of men: Sanskrit, culture, and power in premodern India. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Powers, P. R. (2004). Interiors, intentions, and the “spirituality” of Islamic ritual practice. Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 72, 425–459. Ricci, R. (2010). Islamic literary networks in South and Southeast Asia. Journal of Islamic Studies, 21(1), 1–28. Ricci, R. (2011). Islam translated: Literature, conversion, and the Arabic cosmopolis of South and Southeast Asia. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Stewart, T. K. (2001). In search of equivalence: Conceiving Muslim-Hindu encounter through translation theory. History of Religions, 40(3), 260–287. Wierzbicka, A. (1997). Understanding cultures through their key words: English, Russian, Polish, German, and Japanese. (Oxford Studies in Anthropological Linguistics, Vol. 8). New York: Oxford University Press.

Chapter 5

Potent Words and Sacred Duties

Abstract This chapter describes merit-generation through reading and reciting the Qur’an, the performance of compulsory fardu prayers, and their supererogatory equivalents most commonly referred to in Cabetigo as semaye sunnat. These are the first of three discrete merit-making elements that are present in merit-making complexes. The first half of the chapter describes Muslims making bun or pahalo for both themselves and the deceased through the Qur’an. I show how a lack of ability in reading the Qur’an forces many to hire specialists to read the Qur’an for the deceased. Unlike Qur’anic readings and recitations, the fardu prayers with which the second half of this chapter begins are an individual ritual obligation (Ar. fardu ain). I describe the five waktu which are wajib for all sane, able-bodied adult Muslims and the reasons for these being widely regarded as the backbone of an individual’s incremental accumulation of merit. Controversies about whether semaye mayat should be considered an important merit-making event for the deceased are also included. This chapter concludes by describing a range of supererogatory prayers that perform a range of functions, such as compensating for imperfections in fardu prayers and assisting the merit-maker in this world (PM. dunio).

Introduction This is the first of three chapters concerned with merit-generating ritual performances. In it I describe what I refer to as the discrete merit-yielding elements of Qur’anic readings and recitations, salat. Along with sedekoh, these are ritual elements present in merit-making complexes such as feasts, the month of Ramadan, and pilgrimages to Mecca. Although merit-generation through the Qur’an and salat are considered separately below, a number of connections exist between them. For instance, the Qur’an is not only recited during performances of the salat, but devotional readings commonly follow its completion. As revealed in the following chapter, the Qur’an is often recited over sedekoh of food, and one of the many ways that merit-making feasts generate merit is by the Qur’an being read and recited at them. Similarly, performing both wajib and sunnat salat are crucial to the accumulation of merit during the holy month of Ramadan and pilgrimages to Mecca. Divided into two parts, this chapter begins with the delineation of the range of rewards Muslims receive from reading and reciting the Qur’an (Ar. al-qur’an, PM. C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_5,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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kure, Th. khampi kuran). Details about how the Qur’an is viewed to generate merit for the reader and the deceased, and the factors which affect the amount of merit generated, are dealt with. Also described is how individuals who do not possess the personal expertise to read the Qur’an themselves make merit for the dead by paying specialists to do so. This chapter’s second half describes salat. Details of, and differences between, the five fardu waktu (Ar. times) are described. Also considered is the range of opinions concerning the role of fardu prayers in personal merit-generation and contentions about whether funeral prayers (PM. semaye mayat) transfer merit for the deceased. I conclude this with a description of how supererogatory prayers (PM. semaye sunnat) yield merit for worshippers.

Qur’an’s Multiple Rewards Muslims reverence for the Qur’an is based on beliefs that this contains the eternal and uncreated words of Allah which were revealed to the Prophet through the Angel Gabriel. The first sounds heard in Cabetigo each morning are Qur’anic recitations broadcast from the mosques and prayer rooms. A child’s first educational experience in Cabetigo is likely to be some form of Qur’anic lesson. Qur’anic verses are placed above front doors of houses, hung from rear-mirrors of cars, and pasted on motorbikes. As the following descriptions of my landlord Ali (and a neighbour that I refer to as Be Yah) illustrate, although the Qur’an is revered by all in Cabetigo, not all are able to read it. Being of mixed Malay and Hadrami lineage, Cabetigo residents refer to my landlord as Ali Arabi, or “Ali the Arab”. Like many second generation immigrants, Ali speaks a number of languages (Thai, Malay, Arabic and English). After living and working in Saudi Arabia for 20 years, he also enjoys a comfortable life in Cabetigo.1 Ali’s home testifies to his unique lineage and life experiences. His living room floor is covered with Arab carpets. Arab swords and Malay kris are displayed on the wall. A cabinet featuring Malay wood-carving motifs contains Arab brass coffee and henna utensils. Dotted around the living room walls are mirrors rimmed by Qur’anic verses, which Ali has prepared himself. On a large coffee table in front of a sofa at one end of the room is a carved box decorated with Qur’anic verses and jewels, which contains one of his four hand-written Qur’ans (Fig. 5.1).

1 Along with many other Thai citizens, he was forced to leave in the late 1980s. This was not only due to changes in Saudi immigration policy following the first Gulf War, but part of the deterioration in diplomatic relations between Thailand and Saudi Arabia following a Thai citizen stealing jewels owned by a member of the Saudi royal family. The jewels were returned, but were soon revealed to be intricate copies of the original. To make matters worse, the wife of the then Thai Prime Minister, General Chavalit Yongchaiyudh, was photographed wearing the originals. The jeweller who was alleged to have made the copies was murdered, as were some Saudi diplomats sent to investigate the case in Bangkok.

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Fig. 5.1 Ali Arabi and his hand-written Qur’an

Each page of Ali’s hand-written Qur’an features a decorative border that frames the text written in his elegant calligraphic style. Ali explained how he came to begin to write these hand-written Qur’ans: I studied [writing the Qur’an] in Saudi Arabia for years. I then practised for 10 years. At the time I asked myself “Why am I practising?” I wasn’t sure. Then I returned here to work in the printing press. I then began to think. “Oh, we’re doing all this printing, why isn’t there anyone writing?” So I began to think about my ability in this area. “Why not”, I thought! So I started—doing a bit each day.

Before commencing writing, Ali must first perform wudu (PM. amek air semaye). He also likes to read Surah Ya Sin. Whenever he makes a mistake, he must burn the page and ask forgiveness. Ali explains his feelings about these hand-written Qur’ans: I’m proud that this is something I am able to do. Not that I am very clever, and although it’s not that pretty, I can still do it. I can write the words of Allah! I am not gifted in memorising, so I do the things I can. I have to be very careful to write it exactly correctly as any mistake I make will be a big sin. Everything must be 100% correct! It takes me about a year to complete one Qur’an. I do everything myself—the writing, the binding, and the box. But

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this is really amazing: even though it is a lot of work, when I do it I don’t feel discouraged, or have sore eyes, or feel tired. The more I write, the more I like it.

While others are equally gifted, Ali comments on many not having (or making) the time to do such work. “There also aren’t people employing people like me to write anymore”. Pointing to the hand-written Qur’an on the table in front of us, he adds, “If we do things that are good, it’s worth it! When we write the Qur’an, we don’t need to worry that we’re using our many hours in a useless way. If we spend many hours doing things that are good, we can remind ourselves why we’re doing it—we’re doing it for Allah!” Ali’s artistic gifts and fluency in Arabic contrasts that of a Malay neighbour, who I refer to as Be Yah. Like many Malay houses in Cabetigo, the outside of Be Yah’s is jammed with bird cages containing singing doves (PM. burung tite). His front room is dominated by a large cabinet displaying cups, glasses, crockery, graduation photos, brass ornaments and books. Be Yah explains that his religious education began when he was sent to the house of a religious teacher called Mak Su. He recounts, “I didn’t do this for long. I was a naughty kid. I was only 8 years old and I wasn’t interested. I was always playing!” While a number of practical, philosophical and financial factors affect the educational choices that Muslim parents make for their children in Cabetigo, two basic strategies exist. The first is to send children to a private schools teaching Islam (PSTIs). For kindergarten (Th. anubarn) and primary school (Th. phathum) the national Thai curriculum and Islamic subjects are taught side-by-side. Although some continue studying there until the completion of high school (Th. mathayon), many parents prefer their children to complete their secondary schooling at Thai government schools. These decisions are primarily motivated by concerns at how well PSTIs prepare students to enter university for which a good score on the entrance exam is required. Any suggestions of compromise are rejected, as by this age most are able to read the Qur’an and perform salat. The second, and most common, option in Cabetigo is for Muslim children to be sent to Thai government schools. For those following this model, religious classes must then be attended in the evenings and weekends. Some of these may clash with the special tuition classes (Th. rian piset) that are widely considered essential to achieving good grades. As a result, many in Cabetigo are committed to a grueling routine of religious classes and special tuition during school day evenings, and on the weekends. Many parents regard this routine to be unavoidable. Most wish their children to both acquire a secular education which enables them to succeed in this world (PM. dunio), and to be capable of the praying and reading of the Qur’an that is essential for comfort in the world to come and ultimate salvation (PM. akhirat). When I enquired about how confidently Be Yah reads the Qur’an, he initially appeared extremely reluctant to reply. Eventually, he answered, “I can read some of the easier and shorter surahs, such like Qulhuwallah. These are enough for me to be able to semaye”. He explained that he used a textbook that transliterated Arabic in the Thai script, and that he also listened to tapes. Be Yah then pointed to a wall hanging behind me. On it were four surahs of the Qur’an that commenced with

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Fig. 5.2 Be Yah’s wall hanging of surahs opening with Qul

the word “Qul” (Fig. 5.2). This word was written in gold letters, with the rest of the surah written in silver descending vertically. These are bordered in what that represents four pillars of a tall domed mosque. Surah al-Fatihah was written at its base. Outside the mosque containing these five important surahs, were the 90 nine names of Allah written in gold letters. Be Yah explains that the surahs contained in this wall hanging are the most important in the Qur’an. Although his work in the evenings makes it difficult to join the Qur’anic classes that other men his age attend, he confesses that he would be reluctant to reveal his limited ability to others. I asked if this meant he made merit differently from others. Nodding in agreement, he replied, “It’s different for someone like me. People with education can do more. However, our niat is the most important thing”. He explained how he made merit by his good thoughts, by sedekoh—especially to mosques and ponok schools—and by ngatek. While talking about Islamic education, his son Lek entered the room. Be Yah reminded me that while some Malays in Cabetigo had gone to Thai schools before him, his age-group was the first to have done so in significant numbers. Due to the “bad influences” that Lek had been exposed to at the local government high

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school, Be Yah shifted him to a PSTI outside Pattani 2 years ago. Lek explained that studying in this ponok school in Mayo was harder. There, they studied two curricula and began classes immediately after Suboh. Nevertheless, he felt that his new school was far better. He had recently completed his first reading of the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an. Be Yah pointed to his son with his chin and said, “Islamic education is so important! There are many people who can’t read the Qur’an. When someone dies, they can not read Surah Ya Sin. When their parents die, they become repentant, saying ‘why didn’t I study the Qur’an!’ They have to find someone else to do this for them—giving them a sedekoh”.

The Qur’an and Personal Merit-Making Merit is one of many rewards that one receives from reading the Qur’an. The Qur’an teaches Muslims the rules for daily life, and the history of the prophets. Ali explained, “The Qur’an tells us what is good and bad. It has history, especially about Nabi Musa and Nabi Iso (alayi salam)”. Another informant insisted that knowledge of the Qur’an allowed Muslims to “comprehend the difference between good and bad—about what makes merit and what causes sin. Sometimes we do doso without knowing it. This is why studying religion is so meritorious”. The Qur’an can also heal. One Malay man recounted that instead of taking paracetamol for a headache, he reads the Qur’an. He recounted that while “every ayah has its own value, the Prophet Muhammad (sallallah alayi wasalam) taught that Surah al-Fatihah can cure every disease”. Many testified that the Qur’an drew them closer to Allah and made them more pleasing to Him. Reading the Qur’an also made them more conscious of sin. For some, it also brought peace. Qur’anic readings and recitations are also one of the principal means through which Muslims in Cabetigo make merit for both themselves and the deceased. When asked about whether reading the Qur’an had anything to do with meritmaking, a Thai Muslim informant answered, “This is another very meritorious thing for us to do. There are many aspects of making merit, and all of them are different: lamaat has its merit; fasting has its merit; zikir has its merit; sedekoh has its merit”. Ali insisted that his hand-written Qur’ans would not only be a legacy for his children and grandchildren, but that the writing has also produced merit for him. “It is meritorious, but we don’t know how much”. Below, he elaborates on his motivations: First, I receive phonlabun from Allah. Second, I leave something of worth for my children: they see the greatness of the Holy Qur’an. Inshallah, they will be interested in the Holy Qur’an. This is because the Qur’an is the speech of Allah—not men. This is an important point. Allah has said in the Qur’an many times, not just once: “Read the Qur’an!” Reading the Qur’an is a very good thing to do. It’s like lamaat. When we pray, or read, there is merit for us. If we can’t lamaat, what do we do? Where’s the merit? These are both different types of merit-making: when we do these things, different types of merit are produced.

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Muslims claim that every single letter of the Qur’an which is read is rewarded with 10 points of merit. After someone had told me that the purpose of the Qur’an was to make the heart clean, he enthusiastically added, “And we will get lots of merit (phonlabun), as well! When we read one letter, like an alif, we get 10 points of merit—it might even be 100!” No consensus exists on whether every surah of the Qur’an was equally powerful. Many made claims similar to the following Malay woman who explained, “Read any surah or ayat, and after you have finished, make a niat that this merit should reach and help the ancestors that you name”. Nonetheless, the importance of Surah Ya Sin was stressed on almost every interview in which the Qur’an was mentioned. I was told once that, “If you read Ya Sin everyday, you will not have troubles in your life. Furthermore, you will see the provision (PM. riski) of Allah. God will help you!” Another asserted that a hadith taught that Surah al-Ikhlas (commonly referred to as Qulhuwallah) was equivalent to reading a third of the Qur’an. In addition to devotional recitations, studying the Qur’an was also meritorious. An axiom commonly cited in Muslims in Cabetigo is that the Qur’an must be studied from the cradle to the grave. A Malay woman in her late 70s believed that by studying Qur’anic recitation every night of the week after Iso (except on Fridays) she would be rewarded with pahalo. “I might not understand what I am reading”, she added, “but I want to recite the Kure properly”. Ali Arabi agrees, stating that, “If three or four people sit together to study the Qur’an, this yields twice as much merit for both the students and the teacher”. A number of factors influence the amount of merit that one may receive. Although not required when reading Thai or Malay interpretations, one must perform wudu before reading the Qur’an. One must also be dressed in clean clothes, and it must be read facing qiblat. Like supererogatory prayers (PM. semaye sunnat), the Qur’an may be read at any time except in the bathroom. “You just have to be clean. It’s like semaye: If you have done wudu, you can pray any time and anywhere”. While the Qur’an can be read at any time, as one must be in a state of ritual purity, readings commonly follow fardu prayers. Furthermore, most times are following Suboh, Sohur and Norib. As already mentioned, many Fridays begin with reading of the Qur’an after Norib. Accuracy also has an effect on the amount of merit that one might receive. Ali explained, “You should recite the surah correctly. If you can’t, then there is no need to worry, but you should study. Reading the Qur’an is worth it! It’s a better way to use your time than to be sitting in the coffee shop”. In an interview conducted after a funeral feast (PM wa’ ngatek), the issue of accuracy was raised: Something that is very important is that the tok ime does not make any mistakes when he reads [the Qur’an for the dead]. If this happens, then there will be no merit. This is very important. If mistakes are made, sin (Th. baap)—not merit (Th. bun)—may be generated and the people who are patronising the feast might not get a thing!

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Such concerns about accuracy motivate many to employ specialists. When I enquired about the ability of a Malay single mother to read the Qur’an for her recently deceased father she made the following comments: Well, I don’t read the Qur’an very well, but I read the verses of the Qur’an that I can read. Ya Sin is quite a big chapter so you have to have a book. The other smaller chapters I have memorised already, but I had to have the book of Ya Sin to be able to read it. It is quite a big chapter. Maybe I read it and it is not correct, but I don’t really know if I am correct or not—I just read it.

Those able to read the Qur’an confidently claimed that reading it without concentrating generated less merit. “When we read the Qur’an, our heart and mind must not go off somewhere else”. Some made critical comments about those in Cabetigo who they viewed as reading the Qur’an in a boastful manner: If we show off how good we are at reading, or how nice our voice is, our merit will be less . . . Allah doesn’t think “Oh, this is a scholar”, or “This person isn’t very good at reading”. All Allah looks at, is our heart. When read with reverence, with a heart that is thinking of Allah (in a way that is appropriate when one reads the very words of Allah), we must also concentrate as we read. If we do these things, we will receive lots of merit.

Reading for the Dead Qur’anic readings and recitations are one of the principal means through which Muslims make merit for the deceased. Leor Halevi notes that in the first Islamic century, fundamental transformations took place in the liturgy of Islam. On the first and 40th night after a burial, it became popular for the Qur’an (mainly Surah Ya Sin (Qur’an 36), Surah al-Baqara (Qur’an 2), and Surah al-Mulkon (Qur’an 67) to be read for the deceased (2007, p. 29). In the following section details and contentions surrounding merit-making for the dead through Qur’an readings and recitations are described. A Thai Muslim woman explained to me that, “When semaye mayat is performed at the mosque we are making merit for the deceased. The Qur’an is also read at the grave. This is also merit-making”. A niat precedes the performance of salat, but follows readings of the Qur’an for the dead that are viewed to prevent them from feeling lonely or experiencing hell-fire. Many referred to the Qur’an as food for the souls (PM. arwoh, Th. winyan). This corroborates el-Aswad El-Sayed’s description of Egyptian peasants who read the Qur’an because it is “a divine means to help the dead pass the tomb’s examination and invokes Allah to have mercy on them” (2002, p. 158). This was once explained to me by a young Malay man in the following words: You see, human beings eat rice. But the spirit of the deceased must also eat. What do they eat? The Qur’an! You see, the Qur’an has many surahs. There are parts of the Qur’an which are not required to be used for feeding the dead. There are some surahs that we can’t dedicate to the spirit of the dead. This is a mysterious area, but from what I have been taught from the tok guru, from what I have heard, the food that the spirit of the dead eats is the Qur’an.

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The following surahs are most commonly recited for the benefit of the deceased: al-Fatihah, al-Ikhlas and Ya Sin. As described below, Surah al-Fatihah is daily recited 17 times in fardu prayers.2 Next in importance is al-Ikhlas, which is commonly recited after al-Fatihah in the first two raka’at of semaye fardu. The importance of al-Ikhlas is that this surah is one of shortest in the Qur’an and it affirms God’s unity and uncreatedness. Many of my informants provided details about the surahs he reads for the dead. One recounted, “I read al-Ikhlas, al-Fatihah, then I do ngatek”. A Thai Muslim woman described that her husband goes to the kubor “every Friday and recites alIkhlas many times”. The 36th chapter of the Qur’an, Surah Ya Sin, is widely viewed in Cabetigo to be especially powerful. A Malay widow (who is also a near neighbour of mine) who I shall refer to as Ka’ Moh, related how their eldest daughter read Ya Sin to her husband, Be Kuding, in his final hours: Before Be Kuding died in hospital, all my daughters went there. But the hospital didn’t allow them to all sleep there. There wasn’t enough room. Our eldest daughter stayed, reading the Qur’an while he was unconscious. She was the only one who could read Ya Sin. She would also wipe his face and body. Later on, he became conscious. When she stopped reading Ya Sin, he would ask her to read it again. This happened again and again until he fell asleep again. He was given oxygen. So, he couldn’t talk. The next day, I was at the hospital in the early morning, taking turns to pray Suboh with my daughter. It was my turn to pray Suboh and after I prayed I asked Allah to allow me to be with Be Kuding when he died. Then, after Suboh, many relatives came and helped us read Ya Sin. Then I heard his last breath.

Others claimed that Ya Sin was the heart of the Qur’an: “You read Ya Sin when someone is dying, or you can read it to send to the spirit of the dead ancestors— sending the merit to them”. A reason given in one interview for those who make merit for the deceased reading Ya Sin is that it is like “a pebble that we throw in the river. When we do this, it causes ripples to come out from where it landed—the pahalo goes forth continuously!” In addition to Surah al-Fatihah, al-Ikhlas and Ya Sin, all 30 juz of the Qur’an might also be recited over the days following a funeral. A Malay man explained, “People gather to read the entire Qur’anall 30 juz! Sometimes 30 people gather, reading one juz each. Most read the Qur’an for the ahl-kubor (Ar. the dead) on Fridays, some at the kubor on Friday evenings, others on Friday mornings”. Two case-studies are now provided about how Muslim families in Cabetigo make merit for the dead. These illustrate that considerable variation exists in who visits the kubor and when they do so. Also revealed are diverse assessments about the responsibilities of faithful sons and daughters (PM anok soleh), and whether merit transference by unrelated friends and neighbours is effective. These case studies involve the families of Be Kuding (mentioned above) and Pok Wae whose performance of semaye hajat is included below. These families reappear during my treatment of funeral feasts.

2

On the importance of al-Fatihah see Bowen (2000, pp. 27–37).

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Pok Wae was long-term Malay resident of Cabetigo who passed away after a sudden illness during the month of Ramadan in 2003. This coincided with the worst of the monsoon season. Following semaye mayat (which is described below) and after extensive discussions, it was decided that due to this being Ramadan and the rainy season, no one would be hired to keep watch over the kubor (PM. jago kubor, Th. faw kubor) using a covered platform (PM. gere, Th. saalaa) (see Fig. 5.3). Instead three tok pakir were hired to read the Qur’an for Pok Wae in their house. When I asked one of Pok Wae’s sons, Be Him, who these tok pakir were he simply replied that they had been outsiders who had been recommended by a relative. Three people were required so that at least one could read for the seven nights from the end of semaye taroweh until Suboh. After Suboh, Be Him and his brothers went to the kubor and read al-Fatihah and al-Ikhlas, followed by du’o. All this took approximately 30 minutes. After 7 days, the tok pakir were paid 4,000 baht each. Be Him’s wife said that these tok pakir had been hired because they had studied the Qur’an for many years and they wanted people who were able to read it well. One of Be Him’s siblings explained: We don’t read fluently. Neither have we studied the entire Qur’an through to the end—the whole 30 juz. We think it is better to employ someone who can read the entire Qur’an fluently, than for us to try to do it ourselves. When lots of people come to our house to read the Qur’an and to make du’o for Wae, this produces merit for him. The more people—the more the merit. Sometimes a poor person dies, but many people come to read the Qur’an and offer du’o for him. Sometimes a rich person dies and very few come!

Fig. 5.3 Covered gere used to jago kubor

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The practice of jago kubor (PM.), or faw kubor (Th.), was explained to me by one Malay man in the following manner: Three people stayed in the graveyard to jago kubor for seven days. There was a movable covered platform that can be used for this. These people read the entire Qur’an continuously for three days. Over the first three days, we don’t want him to be lonely. Families want people to be there and to stay with him as he has just died. They don’t want him to be lonely, so people read to him. This is a local custom.

A Thai Muslim woman commented that people rarely performed jago kubor for free. Those willing to pay people for his service wished to help prevent the deceased from being tortured in the grave. A Pakistani woman who disapproved of this practice held that it was better to read the Qur’an for the deceased at home. She commented that in the past, other practices had routinely been performed in the kubor, like “arranging flowers—this was a Hindu thing. But there’s none of that anymore, although there might still be villagers who do this”. It is not only over the first week in the kubor that the Qur’an is read to the deceased. This happens throughout the year. A Malay man explained that he read the Qur’an for his father at home in the morning, before confessing that he should do so at the kubor. Others occasionally visited the kubor as a family during the weekends. “When we go, we read smaller surahs. We read these 40 times. Sometimes we read these 100 times”. Fridays are widely considered the best day to read the Qur’an at the kubor. Many who do so use books containing the most common surahs. These are easily obtainable in Islamic book shops, and on tables selling religious literature in the Cabetigo’s talaat nats. These are either read beside the specific place where a relative is buried, or in shelters (PM gere). My reformist friend Be Him claimed that praying for the dead in the kubor is best done at night—not in the morning after Suboh—as this was the practice of the Prophet (Ar. sunnah al-Nabi). When I asked whether he did this, he confessed that he did not, explaining that he was afraid of ghosts (PM. hatu, Th. phi). Somewhat embarrassingly he added, “I know that there are no spirits in Islam, only Jinn, but I am still afraid!” An issue which many offered opinions about concerned who should read the Qur’an for the deceased. Although restrained and diplomatic in his wording, one Malay man was adamant that only he should read the Qur’an for his deceased parents. He added, “Well, you can employ others. It’s not that important and is up to the individual. Personally, however, I don’t think that others need to do this for me. I can do this myself. This way is better”. Another Malay male informant stated, “When a son reads the Qur’an, the pahalo goes automatically to the father or mother without him having to niat anything”. A Thai Muslim woman commented, “A child or a relative must read the Qur’an. If not, then it won’t be effective (Th. mai thueng). We believe the prayers of the child for their parents to be especially effective—far more than others”. This was corroborated by the following informant: We are able to read the Qur’an for them [deceased relatives], which might be Surah Ya Sin, al-Fatihah or Qulhuwallah. After this, we might do ngatek, and then make du’o for them. If

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I do this for my deceased brother, then this will reach him automatically. If you were to do it, it would be 50-50 [English]. This is stated in the Qur’an. This is also stated in the hadith. Muhammad told his followers that it must be a direct relative: a brother, a sister, or an anok soleh.

Although all Muslim children in Cabetigo accept that making merit for one’s deceased parents is an important responsibility, attitudes towards this responsibility vary. Ka’ Moh revealed that although her children were young in 2002 when Be Kuding passed away and, as such, could only read certain sections of the Qur’an, they read for him as they were expected to. Be Kuding’s son entered the Kubor Tok Ayoh every Friday after Suboh. In an interview with him, he explained: When I began, I was only nine years old. At that time, I had only been studying the Qur’an for two years. If I want to make merit for ayoh (PM. dad), I read Qulhuwallah, and then do ngatek. This all takes me about 20 minutes. As well as doing this every Friday, I also go on Hari Rayo and Hari Rayo Haji. I also take my younger brother along with me whenever I go.

Although Be Kuding’s daughter read Ya Sin as he passed away, and his son entered the kubor every Friday, Ka’ Moh disclosed that she also employed others to read the Qur’an to Be Kuding: If a child reads Ya Sin for the deceased father, this will reach them. If someone does this, it is not clear whether it does. I don’t think it matters who reads. What’s important is that someone reads the Qur’an. On the 41st day [after the burial], 41 students from a ponok school in Pujut (12 kilometres from Pattani) came to read the Qur’an. These students were about 14 years old. They read the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an together. These 30 juz were divided between these 41 people. Doing this took them about two hours. We paid 50 baht each, as well as some petrol money.

Ka’ Moh explained that her cousin suggested she do this to ease any punishment that Be Kuding might be suffering in the grave. While there was not only a degree of coercion, and uncertainty about whether the pahalo would reach him, Ka’ Moh acquiesced out of the hope that this would help. “When we read the Qur’an ourselves, particularly Ya Sin, it is certain if we make a sincere niat to him. There is hope that the pahalo will help him. If we do nothing, then there is no hope”. The conscientiousness of Be Kuding’s son contrasts with the attitude of Pok Wae’s children. In addition to hiring the three tok pakir over the first week following Pok Wae’s burial after the funeral they continue to pay a range of specialists to regularly read the Qur’an for him. Pok Wae’s pays a tok babo to read the Qur’an for Wae every Friday. She makes a sedekoh of 100 baht per month, giving the money to someone who promises to take it to his house. She also insisted that her six children were all too busy with good jobs to read the Qur’an themselves. One of Be Him’s older brothers said, “I employ someone to read the Qur’an for Wae. I make a donation to a ponok school, and the person will read this, dedicating this to my father”. What this financially secure middle-class Malay family can afford is beyond the reach of what either Ka’ Moh or her less well-off children can afford. Although only 9 years old, and limited in what he could read, Be Kuding’s youngest son did what was expected of him.

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While Qur’anic recitations by anok soleh are automatically efficacious without niat, those reading the Qur’an for non-relatives must make a clear niat that included the name of the deceased. Such a niat might be: “I dedicate my pahalo from the reading of Qulhuwallah to Abdullah”. Whenever non-relatives did so, “Whether— or how much—merit reaches them is something that only Allah ta’ala knows”, as a Thai Muslim man once remarked. In summary, while Muslims in Cabetigo read the Qur’an to understand its message, it is also read and recited to generate merit. Although the merit that this yields will eventually benefit the merit-maker, the Muslim residents also read and recite the Qur’an for the deceased who have a more urgent need for this bun or pahalo. Be Yah is one of many in Cabetigo who are limited in their ability to read the Qur’an themselves. Although there is wide agreement that the most effective form of merit transference is that performed by anok soleh, it is common for children unable to read the Qur’an themselves to hire ritual specialists to do this for them.

Fardu Prayers The second discrete merit-generating element to be considered in this chapter is salat (PM. semaye, Th. lamaat). Only general references to prayer times are found in the Qur’an. The times of the five fardu prayers (PM. waktu) are based on the authority of the hadith.3 The first waktu of Suboh (PM.) (Ar. fajr) is performed just over an hour before sunrise. This is followed by Suhur (PM.) (Ar. zuhr) shortly after midday.4 Between Suhur and the evening prayer of Norib (PM.) (Ar. maghrib) there is the afternoon prayer of Asar. Norib is prayed immediately after sunset. This is followed a little over an hour latter by Iso (PM.) (Ar. ’isha). The recommended—and most meritorious—practice is to perform these waktu as early as possible. However, they may be performed at any time before the call to prayer (PM. be, SM. bang, Ar. adhan) for the next waktu.5 There are a number of reasons for Qur’anic recitations being broadcast from mosques and prayer rooms in Cabetigo 10–15 minutes before the be (SM. bang, Ar azan) for the forthcoming waktu. The first is that these warn those who have not yet prayed to do so. Prayers 3

Consider the following examples: “Establish prayer at the two ends of the day and at the approaches of the night” (11:114); “Establish prayer at the sun’s decline till the darkness of the night and morning prayer and reading . . .” (17:78); and “Celebrate the praises of thy lord before the rising of the sun and before its setting; celebrate them for part of the hours of the night and at the sides of the day” (20:130). 4 According to Shafi’i law, the third waktu Asar is performed when the shadow of an item is equal to the item itself. 5a ¯ llahu a¯ kbar, a¯ llahu a¯ kbar (twice)! a¯ sh hadu a¯ n l¯a ilaha ill¯a-llah (twice)! a¯ sh hadu a¯ nna m¯uhammad¯ar ras¯ulu-llah (twice)! hayy¯a `al¯a-s-salat (twice)! hayy¯a `al¯a-l-fal¯ah. (twice) qad q¯ama tis-salaat (twice)!. a¯ llahu a¯ kbar, a¯ llahu a¯ kbar l¯a ilaha ill¯a-lla. This translates as: God is the greatest! God is the greatest (twice)! I bear witness that there is no god except God (twice)! I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of God (twice)! Come to prayer (twice)! Come to salvation (twice)! God is the greatest (twice)! There is no god except God.

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missed for legitimate reasons may be made up by semaye godo (Ar. salat qada). These may be performed any time except when the sun is rising, at it zenith, and at sunset.6 The second reason for these broadcasts is to give time to people wishing to perform salat at the beginning of the waktu, or with others at a local mosque or prayer room. Enough time is required to complete ablutions and get changed into appropriate clothes. Salat must be performed in a state of ritual cleanliness (Ar. taharah). This is achieved through the performance of ablutions appropriate to one’s current state of defilement. The major ablution (Ar. ghusl) requires a full bath after which wudu is performed. This is mandatory after any sexual activity, before juma’at prayers on Friday, and on Hari Rayo and Hari Rayo Haji. Wudu refers to the partial ablution performed before semaye and before touching the Qur’an (see Katz, 2005; Maghen, 1999; Reinhart, 1990).7 With the exception of Iso, wudu is to be performed before every waktu if any of the following has happened: answering the call of nature, experiencing flatulence, sleeping, touching a member of the opposite sex—other than one with whom marriage is forbidden.8 Upon hearing the be, people occasionally recall their need to perform wudu, although most repeat this even if it is not necessary. Although salat must be performed in clean clothes, opinions on what clothes can be worn vary. Most in Cabetigo put on a sarong and wear a prayer cap (PM. piyo’). I once bumped into a former student who was walking back from the mosque. I noticed that he was wearing his T-shirt inside-out. When I pointed this out to him, he shyly smirked before revealing the front of his shirt that featured a scantly clan women. He explained that although this shirt was not appropriate for him to pray in, it was the only clean shirt that he possessed. As such, he had no choice! For women, salat must be performed wearing a white prayer shawl (PM. kain kana). Like Qur’anic readings and recitations, prayers are performed facing the Ka`bah in Mecca, (PM. qiblat, Ar. qiblah) and may be performed anywhere except in places considered unclean. When performing fardu prayers in a mosque with 6

This is related to hadithic bans intended to avoid any semblance to sun worship. Wudu is begun by uttering “Bismillah” and making a niat to perform wudu to cleanse all impurities. In wudu, the following are performed three times (with the right side being performed first) which some complete with a recital of the shahadah: 7

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

The hands are washed up to the wrist; The mouth is rinsed with water that is spat out; Water is put into the nostrils with the right hand; the top of the nose is pinched with the left hand to exit the water; The face is washed from the hairline and from ear to ear; The arms are washed up to the elbow; The head is then wiped with wet hands for the hairline to the back of the neck and back again, only once; The ears are rubbed, before washing one’s feet up to the ankles.

8 This last element is distinct from the Hanafi School which has a blanket prohibition on touching the opposite sex.

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Fig. 5.4 Performing ghusl before Friday prayers

others as a juma’at (PM. congregation), salat begins immediately after a shortened versions of the adhan, which is also repeated 10 minutes after it. This is referred to as the ghusl (Fig. 5.4).9 I describe below the performance of fardu prayers of the Shafi`i school. The basic unit of all salat is the raka’ah (sg.) (pl. raka’at). The number of raka’at in each waktu are as follows: Suboh consists of two raka’at; Suhur, Asar, and Iso are all comprised of four raka’at; and Norib contains only three. Salat consisting of two raka’at commences with an audible or silent niat. Following this is the takbir (“Allahu Akbar”) that marks changes in positions during 9

The iqama is the second and shorter call made 10 minutes after the adhan. It is made in a monotone and is faster than the adhan: a¯ llahu a¯ kbar, a¯ llahu a¯ kbar, a¯ sh hadu a¯ n l¯a ilaha ill¯a-llah. a¯ sh hadu a¯ nna m¯uhammad¯ar ras¯ulu-llah hayy¯a `al¯a-s-salat hayy¯a `al¯a-l-fal¯ah. (twice) qad q¯ama tis-salaat. a¯ llahu a¯ kbar, a¯ llahu a¯ kbar l¯a ilaha ill¯a-lla. This translates as: (God is Greatest! God is Greatest! I assert that there is no god but God. I assert that Muhammad is the Messenger of God. Come to the prayer! Come to salvation! Stand for prayer (twice). God is Greatest! God is Greatest! There is no god but God).

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salat. The manner in which open hands with palms facing giblat and thumbs nearly touching the earlobes varies between men and women. The latter raise their hands only as far as the shoulders. After the first takbir, the position known as qiyam is assumed. Men fold their right hand over their left against their navel, while women fold their hands higher. In the qiyam position, a supplication is recited, ending with a request for refuge from Satan. After this, another “bismillah” is uttered, which reformists do silently. This is followed by a reciting of al-Fatihah that is concluded with an “amin”. Al-Fatihah is immediately followed by a second (usually short) surah. Both these are prefaced by “bismillah” and completed by an “amin”. Another takbir leads into a position referred to as ruku where the worshipper bows with his hands on his knees and utters the tasbih three times.10 This is followed by briefly standing with his hands in the takbir position and uttering “Samial lahu liman hamidah”. The arms are dropped to the side and “Rabbana lakal hamd” is uttering. After this, the takbir is repeated, although not all raise their hands.11 Next the prostrate position referred to as sujud is assumed as the tasbih (or a slight variant) is offered three times. After a takbir, worshippers briefly sit with their left foot under their right leg, in a position called jalsah, where they recite a short du’o before another takbir and sujud (with tasbih) is repeated. This completes the first raka’ah. The second raka’ah is identical to the first until after the second sujud where worshippers sit in the jalsah position and recite the tashahhud.12 This is followed by the shahadah in which the right index finger is raised when the name of Allah is uttered. Still in jalsah, the salawat13 is recited before the salam14 is given to the right, and to the left. After this, a du’o is usually offered. This might be followed by tasbih, with repetitions being counted on prayer beads, or on the finger joints of the right hand. Norib, which consists of three raka’at, is identical to the above until the recital of the shahadah at the end of the second raka’at. After this, the worshipper stands, utters another takbir (either with raised hands, or hands at one’s side), and recites

10

“subhana rabbiyal azimi wa bi hamdih”. After ruku and before sujud, some stand with hands raised offering a du’o termed qunut. 12 At tahiyy¯ atu lill¯ahi, was-salaw¯atu wat-tayyib¯atu. As-sal¯amu alayka ayyu han-nabiyyu wa rahmatull¯ahi wa barak¯atuh. As sal¯amu alayn¯a wa  al¯a ib¯adill¯a his-s¯alih¯ın. Ash-hadu al l¯a il¯aha illall¯ahu wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan abaduh¯u wa ras¯uluh. This translates as: “All worships—oral, physical and monetary—are for Allah. Allah’s peace be upon you, O Prophet, and His mercy and blessings. Peace be on us and on all righteous servants of Allah. I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger”. 13 Wa ashhadu anna muhammadan rasulullah. Allahumma salli ‘ala muhammad. Wa ‘ala ali Muhammad. As-salamu ‘alaykum was rahmatul-lah. This translates as: “And I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. Oh Allah, do shower your grace upon Muhammad. Glory be to Allah, the most High and praise be to Him. May peace be upon you”. 14 As-salamu ‘alaykum wa rahmatul-lah, which translates as “May peace be upon you”. 11

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al-Fatihah a third time. After this, no second surah is recited. The remainder of this third raka’at is identical to the second raka’at described above. When praying four raka’at, after the second sujud of the third raka’at, the worshipper returns to the qiyam position to recite al-Fatihah a fourth time. As with Norib, no surah follows al-Fatihah. This fourth raka’ah concludes in the same manner as the second raka’ah described above. The tashahhud, shahadah, salawat, and salam are all recited in the jalsah position.

What Worship Is Worth In considering the importance of fardu prayers in Cabetigo, I begin by noting that more than any other element of ‘ibadat, the faithful (and preferably public) performance of fardu prayers demonstrate one’s active practice of Islam. Indeed, some distinguish between Muslims who pray, and those who do not. There are a number of strategies that Muslims employ to make their performance of fardu prayers public. Some pray at a mosque or prayer room. Some change into clothes appropriate for semaye after Norib, although this might also be done by those who do not pray. While legitimate reasons exist for not fasting in Ramadan, undertaking the haj, or paying the annual zakat, none exist for fardu prayers. Even the sick pray to the degree they are able. The elderly often pray while sitting in a chair, with another chair placed in front of them to help when they sujud. The importance of fardu prayers also relates to the fact that these five waktu represent the everyday rice of merit-making of ordinary Muslims. Nevertheless, similar to more than merit motivating Muslims to read or recite the Qur’an, there is more to fardu prayers than these manufacturing merit. A Malay woman once answered a question about the significance of semaye to her by writing the number 24434 on a piece of paper. She pointed to it, and said, “This is Allah’s telephone number. This is what you do if you want to talk with Allah!” When it became clear to her that her point had been lost on me she went through the numbers: “Two raka’at for Suboh, four for Suhur, four for Asar, three for Norib, and four for Iso”. Others related that fardu prayers gave them a feeling of completeness: If we don’t pray, we aren’t happy. We don’t feel right. Once we pray, “Ah”, we feel peaceful. It’s like going to the market. If we don’t get dressed nicely or put some jewellery on, we think “Oh! I can’t go! It doesn’t feel right. If we go, people will think bad things about us!” When we fast and pray, we feel complete.

I have already made reference to there being no quibble about tham bun referring to the supererogatory or sunnat performances, and that these resemble curry which is complemented—rather than replaced—by wajib rice. Fardu prayers might produce bigger merit (PM. pahalo besar, Th. bun yaay) of superior quality, but not all waktu generate the same amount. Although no consensus exists in Cabetigo concerning which waktu is the most meritorious, opinions are divided between Suboh, norib and Iso.

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One informant argued that Suboh produced the most merit as people are sleeping soundly at this time. He added that Iso was “late at night when people don’t want to go out”. Another agreed. “Iso and Suboh are more meritorious. Getting up in the morning and going out at night when it is dark to pray are both harder. So, we get more merit from these waktu”. Some claimed that Norib was easiest to miss, and so was rewarded with more merit than Suhur or Asar. The weekly juma’at (Ar. corporate) prayers at the mosque also generated a lot of merit as this was performed with others. I was told by a haji, “That’s why we get so much merit in Mecca—there are millions praying together there”. There are other factors that affect how much merit is generated from salat. A person who lived a long way from a mosque received more merit than the person who lived next door. The one who walked to the mosque earned more merit than the one who rides a motorbike. Worshippers who walked to the mosque in the rain received more than when it did not rain. A Malay man added, “If you rush to the mosque just before prayers start, then your merit won’t be as much as people who are there in good time”. Others claimed that prayers performed in older mosques are more meritorious. This explains the popularity of mosques such as Masyid Rayo and Masyid Kruset, over Pattani’s central mosque, which is also avoided by some unable to accept the legitimacy of praying in a mosque built by a non-Muslim government.15 Less merit is yielded from prayers performed in prayer rooms (Th. surau, PM. balasoh). Prayer leaders (PM. tok ime) earn more merit due to the responsibility of their task. A tok ime once commented to me, “Oh, I have to be careful about everything! If I make a mistake, then the others will be affected. This is stressful”. Some also claimed that those who pray in the front row immediately behind the tok ime receive more merit than those at the back. How salat is performed also affects the amount of merit worshippers receive. A neighbour once asked, “Have you noticed how some people pray? They rush through the prayers with their mind somewhere else as they go through. Other people are slow and sincere. So the merit isn’t likely to be the same”. Another informant commented, “If we rush in our prayers, we won’t get any merit. We have to concentrate and meditate on what we are doing”. For anok soleh, the importance of fardu prayers is inextricably linked to beliefs that the merit these generate is automatically transferred to deceased parents in the grave. Although such transfers occur regardless of how merit is made, fardu prayers are widely viewed as the most crucial element of an individual’s daily accruement of merit. Informants insisted that whatever good thing they do, parents automatically receive any merit they receive without needing to say, pray or niat anything.

15

The significance of Masyid Rayo is mentioned by Pitsuwan (1988).

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Funeral Prayers and Fardu Khifayah The five wajib waktu that are described above are referred to as individual responsibilities (Ar. fardu ain). By contrast, the funeral prayer (PM. semaye mayat, Ar. Salat al-Janise) is fardu khifayah. This denotes a community responsibility that may be fulfilled by one person from the community. While Muslims in Cabetigo referred to this as tham bun, opinions are divided about whether semaye mayat produces merit for the deceased or is a mandatory rite. Just as the adhan is spoken into the right ear of every Muslim child at birth, semaye mayat must be performed for every observant Muslim dying under normal circumstances. At Masyid Rajo, where most of my observations of semaye mayat took place, the mayat is placed at the front of the mosque. The Imam leading semaye mayat stands in the middle of the deceased’s torso (of a male) and the shoulder (of a female). The niat appropriate for semaye mayat is made following the takbir. The hands are folded in the qiyam position and al-Fatihah is recited. “Allahu Akbar” is uttered without the hands being raised. This is followed by a prayer, and then another “Allahu Akbar” (without raised hands). A du’o is then offered for the deceased, before another “Allahu Akbar”. Again, this is made with the hands at the sides. A second du’o is then made for all, before offering the salam which completes semaye mayat. The practice of paying those who have come to pray semaye mayat is controversial in Cabetigo. Although payments differ depending on the grieving family’s financial means, these typically include a mixture of cash and consumables. Over 150 people attended the semaye mayat for Pok Wae. His nephews distributed a bag containing a kilogram of rice (Th. khaaw suai, Th. berah), two eggs, and 50 baht in an envelope to all who came. Although rice and eggs were still common, poorer families might only pay 20 baht per person. These gifts were described as an act of charity, or sedekoh. One Malay man explained that “People can cook the rice and eat the egg. It’s practical and easy! Giving food is better than money as we sometimes don’t know what people will do with the money we give them”. Those who object to this practice cite a number of reasons, which resemble the objections raised by those opposing the regime of funeral feasts. Some viewed this to be an unnecessary economic burden on grieving families. The following long-time Cabetigo resident summarised his position in the following manner: Those against such practices are definitely in the majority. Those that say “we don’t have to follow such practices are in lots of trouble”. Sometimes the families have nothing! We have to help them with utmost sincerity. When its time for people to come and pray semaye mayat, it’s normal that some won’t come. But some people are afraid that not many people will come to pray semaye mayat, so they’ll pay people to. Some would even be prepared to take a loan, on interest, in order to have things done properly.

Commenting on such loans, a Malay man suggested that when poorer families borrow money to pay people to pray semaye mayat, baap (Th. sin) rather than bun is produced. Raising the issue of ikhalah, another Malay man stated, “Those who accept also lack ikhalah. If someone is a good person, they wouldn’t accept money for praying semaye hajat. Actually, you shouldn’t accept money! You have to pray

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with a sincere heart so as to ensure that the dead person’s journey is a good one”. The Imam of the Pakistan mosque agreed, adding that this perpetuated an unIslamic distinction between rich and poor: At other mosques, they do bid’ah like semaye mayat where people get paid for coming and praying. Not at ours! If people want to come to pray semaye mayat, they come. There is no money involved. We only do the practices that the Prophet did. This is not the case at other mosques! It’s the same as employing people to pray! Whenever a rich person dies, heaps of people come to pray! Why? Because after they have prayed they’ll get an envelope with some money in it! If a poor person dies, maybe not many people come, or they only get 10 or 20 baht. If it’s a rich person, then maybe they’ll get one or 200 baht!

Despite such opposition, this practice continues in Cabetigo. Those who offer payments cite fears that without doing so less people will attend. Knowing she had no money, a Malay widow in her late 60 s explained that people in the villagers and mosque paid for all her husband’s funeral expenses. This included a budget for giving those who prayed semaye mayat 20 baht. She explained: We paid, as we were afraid that people wouldn’t come to pray semaye mayat. We gave, but most people refused it. We gave 20 baht each. Things have changed in society. People must attend semaye mayat, but these days, some won’t come unless there is some sort of compensation.

Others believed that the greater the number of people who prayed semaye mayat, the more merit would be generated for the deceased. One person explained, “People are anxious to help their relatives. They are worried that if there not many people perform semaye mayat, not much merit will be generated”.

Sunnat Prayers Merit may also be generated by a range of supererogatory prayers that in Cabetigo are most commonly referred to semaye sunnat (Th. lamaat sunnat). Although elsewhere people distinguish between salat sunnah (Ar. prayers practised by the Prophet), and salah nafl (Ar. voluntary prayers), none in Cabetigo make such a distinction. Similar to the manner in which mandoob and mustahabb have been subsumed under the term sunnat, semaye sunnat in Cabetigo represents a generic term that refers to any non-wajib salat. In the following section the performance and function of semaye sunnat that precedes and follows fardu prayers, semaye tahajud, and semaye hajat is described. Semaye sunnat may be performed any time during the day. Some have specific names. Semaye tuhar (Ar. salat al- Istasqa) is performed shortly after sunrise. Semaye duho (PM) or salat al-Ishraq (Ar.) may be prayed any time in the morning until—although not during—the meridian. Those praying in a mosque commonly perform two raka’at before prayers begin. These are referred to as the mosque visiting prayer (PM. semaye zeroh masyid, Th. lamaat yiam masyid, Ar. salat tahiyatul masyid). Another common supererogatory prayer performed in Cabetigo consists of two raka’at performed immediately before and/or after fardu prayers.

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Many in Cabetigo confessed that they were too lazy (PM. malah, Th khikiat) to perform these. One person groaned saying, “Ah! There are so many: Semaye sunnat before and after fardu prayers semaye sunnat when travelling; semaye sunnat for giving thanks!” A friend once commented, “Not many people perform semaye sunnat. Some people are interested in other things”. Those who performed semaye sunnat cited a number of reasons for doing so. Some related how they did not feel content with the fardu. One such informant explained: We might have made small mistakes in fardu prayers without knowing it! These sunnat prayers help our fardu prayers achieve 100%. Sometimes there’s a small hole in the fardu prayers which means our merit is leaking out. It is as if sunnat prayers that we perform for this particular waktu will be like a patch on a leaking tire. This is something that is recorded in the hadith. Sunnat prayers make these fardu prayers ideal.

Indeed, another informant even referred to the two raka’at prayers before and after fardu prayers as the “repairing prayer” (Th. lamaat som) that compensating for small (PM. siki’ sangat) imperfections. For some, concerns about such imperfections were such that this had become their daily practice. One Thai Muslim man for whom this was his practice explained, “If I pray sunnat prayers before and after the fardu prayers, these compensate for any small imperfections!” While missed prayers for legitimate reasons (such as travel or ill-health) can be made up by praying semaye godo, the only alternative open to those who have intentionally misses a waktu is repentance. Some who follow a regular regime of semaye sunnat had once completely discarded with fardu prayers. One of the members of a Tabligh group spoke candidly with me one evening about his irreligious teenage years. He was convinced that he had missed so many waktu that making up for these would be impossible. Once fardu prayers had been re-established in his daily routine, he began to regularly perform semaye sunnat. His primary motivation was that by doing so the severity and length of his punishment in the grave would be reduced. Semaye tahajud (Ar. Salat al-tahajud) is prayed after midnight, and after someone has fallen asleep. There are no stipulations about the number of raka’at in semaye tahajud. Some pray as few as two, while others pray more than 10. Semaye tahajud is more associated with intercession and repentance than merit-making. A Malay man explained that as the middle of night is quiet, with no distractions, this is the perfect time to “make du’o, and cry before Allah as I ask for forgiveness from my sins”. The final sunnat prayer to be dealt with is semaye hajat which consists of two raka’at offered as part of a response to a specific need (Ar. hajat). Semaye hajat may be performed by anyone, anywhere, and at any time. A Malay man explained, “Sometimes after Sohur prayers in the mosque, the Imam might inform people that there will be semaye hajat for a particular reason”. A Thai Muslim neighbour informed me that her household only performs semaye hajat when things aren’t going well for them. Others prayed semaye hajat regularly—and by themselves. One such person asked incredulously, “Why call a crowd!? We can do these ourselves without causing a fuss!”

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While occasionally performed in a mosque, and by oneself, semaye hajat in Cabetigo is most commonly performed in the home of the person with the need. While others may be invited to join in, the person with the need must also pray. “If I invite people to pray semaye hajat, I also have to pray. It is not like I ask people to pray, while I sit and watch!” Those praying must make up an odd number. Pok Wae’s son admitted that he didn’t know why, as “Many of us in Pattani town don’t have much Islamic education”. Those who make up this odd number may be members of the immediate family, or those respected for their religious knowledge or piety, such as the tok ime, tok guru, or even a tok babo. Whenever people are invited to perform semaye hajat, a small meal, or even a cup of tea with snacks, are provided as a token of thanks. These sometimes resemble smaller versions of the house-warming feasts which also include semaye hajat. Questions about why refreshments followed semaye hajat received the following explanations from a Malay man: “For Muslims (PM. ore isle), feeding people is really important—it’s a local custom. We are happy when we feed people. The more they eat, the happier they are, and the more merit we get!” I also received a number of answers to questions about whether semaye hajat was a means of making merit. A Malay male stated that he had never heard anyone say this, before pausing and continuing in the following manner: Well, after semaye hajat, there is often food, as well this is a local custom. Any event needs to be accompanied by food! However, merit-makingby which is meant feastingis separate from semaye hajat. [pausing to think again] Well, this might be related in some way to merit, as it is a good thing to do. So the prayer is bun and the food is bun, as wellbut in a different way.

Some in Cabetigo performed semaye hajat in their house every year. One such person explained that a tok ime typically comes with four or six others every year on a Friday. “Sometimes we organise something very easy to eat afterwards like satay or some sweets. We pray for peace and happiness in our house”. Many insisted that semaye hajat brought life to a dry (Th haeng, PM. kering) and lifeless house. “Sometimes people realise that it has been months since they have made merit. It’s as if the house is dry and lifeless! As soon as we make merit, good things begin to happen: people bring food or others, provisions. Sometimes this makes us so happy, we cry”. Someone revealed that whenever they feel uneasy for any reason, they invite a few people over to pray semaye hajat. Semaye hajat is a common response to experiencing problems, whether relatively trivial or serious events of misfortune (PM. balo, Th. heed rai). Post-2004 violence has affected urban communities like Cabetigo less than rural Malay communities in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. One of the relatively rare shootings which occurred in Cabetigo took place in a coffee shop near to my house. The victim was a Cabetigo native who worked as a journalist who was shot at point blank range by unknown assailants shortly after Norib. The owner of the shop, Nik, shut his shop for over a week after the shooting. After he reopened, business was very slow. Nik explained his feelings to me at the time:

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After the shooting, I just felt very unhappy. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t work! Wanting to do something, I decided to organise semaye hajat to do away with this balo. The tok ime came from the Mosque Rajo. I asked seven others. When they arrived, I explained my hajat. I wanted this balo to be gone from my shop. I’m married with kids and I have to rent two houses in order to sell noodles. Since the shooting, I am not selling well. People are afraid to come. There are so many problems and they all came at once!

After performing semaye hajat, Nik made an effort to inform as many people as he could. He commented that when Muslims pray semaye hajat they, “not only get merit, but it also makes us feel happy and at peace”. Although Nik performed semaye hajat in response to a business problem, others pray semaye hajat to seek God’s blessing for their business. The opening of a new keda kopi in Cabetigo was preceded by semaye hajat. The tok ime of the Surau Rim Khlong, and seven others, were invited. The owner of the shop informed me that, this was all that he could afford, “We did this after Sohur, at about one o’clock in the afternoon. After people arrived, we explained to them our reason for wanting to do this, we then semaye hajat, made du’o, and then we ate”. I once spoke to a man who had performed semaye hajat in the bed of a new pickup truck. When the proud new owner drove his prized possession home for the first time, he parked it by his house facing qiblat. Prayer mats were placed in the bed of the truck. A tok guru was invited to pray semaye hajat in the bed of the truck. He brought with him a small entourage, as there was only limited room. After semaye hajat, prayers for safety were offered. A modest meal was provided for anyone who had come to pray. Semaye hajat and “holy” water (air siyp) were both mentioned in the following account by a Thai Muslim neighbour from Nakhon Si Thammarat about how he blesses his new vehicles: If we have a new car or motorbike, we take some water, and pray lamaat hajat with this water right next to us—not in front of us which is haram. When we have finished, we read a du’o in Arabic and blow on the water in the cup while making a clear niat. After this, we will wash our new car or motorbike with this water. We believe that this will help protect us. We do all this ourselves, although it is actually better to go to a pondok and find someone who has a lot of knowledge and ask them to come and do this for us. However, we believe that we can do these ourselves.

Some in Cabetigo object to how semaye hajat is sometimes practised. A Malay man claims that, “The Prophet only did du’o not semaye hajat. Therefore, we also don’t do it. If people need help, then they should pray. Some pray semaye hajat, others don’t”. The custom of occasionally paying (the petrol costs) of those who have performed semaye hajat was also criticised. A Thai Muslim woman from Isaan (Th. north-east Thailand) expressed her disapproval of this practice, saying “I think that we should pray for ourselves without spending lots of money on feasts and paying people to pray lamaat hajat and make du’o for us. People love to ask others to do things that they should do themselves, but we don’t do that!” Others claim that this issue of payment should not be exaggerated. One Thai Muslim man reasoned, “It’s not a big deal and doesn’t involve a lot of money.

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It’s only 50 baht!” Others added that this was no more than a courtesy intended to reimburse petrol costs and the food as a small token of thanks.

Conclusion Qur’anic readings and recitations, and salat are two of the three discrete meritmaking elements described in this study. No claims have been made above that the sole significance of either Qur’an or salat is their ability to generate bun or pahalo. The Qur’an is read by some to understand its message. Others recite it as an act of devotion. Still others appropriate its potency in shamanistic practices (Farrer, 2009, p. 15; Kim, 2007, p. 171). Similarly, through fardu prayers Muslims in Cabetigo publically affirm that they are active members of the global ummah. I also revealed that some performances of the supererogatory prayers semaye sunnat are expressions of devotion, with others connected to acts of repentance. A number of connections and similarities exist between these two discrete merit-making elements. Years of Islamic education are required in order to correctly pray and read the Qur’an. Not only are short surahs from the Qur’an recited in semaye, but devotional readings of the Qur’an often following performances of semaye. The reason for this is that both these must be performed in a state of ritual purity. Furthermore, accuracy, concentration, humility and ikhalah all affect the amount of merit produced by semaye and Qur’anic readings and recitations. As some waktu are considered more meritorious than others, certain surahs, such as al-Fatihah, al-Ikhlas and Ya Sin are cited as particularly potent. What are the fundamental dissimilarities between fardu prayers and recitals of the Qur’an? First and foremost, salat is an individual responsibility (fardu ain) for all sane, able-bodied adult Muslims. Such wajib pillars (PM. rukon) are rewarded with merit, while non-performance is punished with demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso). Although no consensus exists about whether such ritual obligations should be referred to as tham bun, others claim fardu prayers to be the backbone of their daily, discipline and incremental accumulation of bun or pahalo. Some locate the appropriateness of referring to fardu prayers as tham bun in their merit-generating potential, while others cite this as religious activity which Thai-speaking may refer to as tham bun. There is no such debate surrounding reference to supererogatory performances as tham bun. While fardu prayers are Fardu ain, semaye mayat is a community responsibility that may be fulfilled by an individual (Ar. fardu khifayah). Some in Cabetigo regard semaye mayat to be an important obligation of the living towards the deceased. Some willingly pay people to pray for recently deceased relatives as bigger crowds yield more merit. This is one of a number of controversies that exists between traditionalists and reformists in Cabetigo. Semaye mayat is not the only form of salat connected to assisting the dead in the grave. Whenever righteous sons or daughters (PM. anok soleh) pray fardu prayers or semaye sunnat, they are not the only ones who receive merit. Any merit made by anok soleh is also automatically transferred to their deceased parents. As such, for anok soleh, fardu prayers simultaneously fulfill obligations to Allah and to deceased

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parents. This is one of a number of ways that anok soleh in Cabetigo made merit for the dead. Anok soleh are expected to read the Qur’an for the deceased in the days and weeks following a parent’s funeral. Most also accept this to be an ongoing obligation, although attitudes to it varied. The diligence of a 9-year-old boy who regularly read the Qur’an in the kubor for a deceased parent (despite having only studied it for 4 years) contrasts with Pok Wae’s sons who glibly paid others to do this for them. As a potent source of merit, Qur’anic readings and recitations for the dead are one of the most common methods of assisting the deceased in the grave. Although remittances of merit from children of the deceased are automatic for anok soleh, a niat which names recipients is required whenever friends, neighbours or hired ritual specialists transfer merit to the deceased. Is merit transference by hired specialists effective? While reformists insist that it is not, traditionalists continue this practice for a number of reasons. The first is that those unable to read the Qur’an themselves consider hiring experts to be unavoidable. For many, it is simply inconceivable that no merit-making initiatives be organised for the dead following their burial. A second reason is that in the days and weeks following the loss of a loved one, the hope that reading the Qur’an for the dead will be effective is more compelling than debates about how certain one can be about the merit reaching them. Many of the themes introduced above reappear in the following two chapters. Muslims make merit for more than themselves. Not only is merit transferred to the dead, but semaye hajat is one of a number of merit-generating performances that are primarily concerned with meeting the needs of the living in this world (PM. dunio). Controversies that occasionally rage between traditionalists and reformists in Cabetigo over the efficacy of merit transference to the decease by non-anok soleh shall also be revisited.

References Bowen, J. R. (2000). Imputations of faith and allegiance: Islamic prayer and Indonesian politics outside the Mosque. In S. Headley & D. Parkin (Eds.), Islamic prayer across the Indian Ocean: Inside and outside the Mosque (pp. 23–38). Richmond: Curzon Press. El-Sayed, e.-A. (2002). Religion and folk cosmology: Scenarios of the visible and invisible in rural Egypt. Westport, CT: Praeger. Farrer, D. S. (2009). Shadows of the Prophet: Martial arts and Sufi mysticism (Vol. 2, Muslims in Global Societies Series). Dordrecht, The Netherlands: Springer. Halevi, L. (2007). Muhammad’s grave: Death rites and the making of Islamic society (History of Religions). New York: Columbia University Press. Katz, M. H. (2005). The study of Islamic ritual and the meaning of Wudu. Der Islam, 82(4), 106–145. Kim, H.-J. (2007). Reformist Muslims in Yogyakarta village: The Islamic transformation of contemporary socio-religious life. Canberra, Australia: Australian National University e-Press. Maghen, Z. (1999). Much ado about Wudu. Der Islam, 76, 206–209. Pitsuwan, S. (1988). The lotus and the crescent: Clashes of religious symbolisms in Southern Thailand. In K. M. de Silva, P. Duke, E. S. Goldberg, & N. Katz (Eds.), Ethnic conflict in Buddhist societies: Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Burma (pp. 187–201). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Reinhart, A. K. (1990). Impurity/no danger. History of Religions, 30(August), 23–24.

Chapter 6

Sedekoh and Meritorious Smorgasbords

Abstract This chapter deals with merit-generation through acts of charity (PM. sedekoh) and tham bun feasts. Sedekoh is the third discrete merit-making element examined in this study and tham bun feasts are the first of three merit-making complexes that are discussed. Such feasts consist of a number of discrete merit-making elements. This chapter’s first half begins by describing the forms of sedekoh practised in Cabetigo and the factors that affect what form it takes. Certain forms of sedekoh require money, but none require either the discipline of salat or the Islamic education necessary to generate merit through reading the Qur’an. Some forms of sedekoh are performed with the needs of the living in mind. Others, such as sedekoh jariyah, are either part of personal preparations for akhirat or perform the function of assisting the dead already there. The second half of this chapter describes the first of three merit-making complexes. Unlike extant explanations of Muslim merit-making in Thailand that appeared obsessed with tham bun feasts and disinterested in the role of ama ‘ibadat in merit-generation, it is shown that merit-making feasts are one of a number of strategies through which Muslims in Cabetigo make merit. By arguing that feasts contain a number of ritual elements, my treatment of feasts resembles Woodward’s study of the Javanese slametan. Funeral feasts, mawlid feasts, house-warming feasts, and what I refer to as general tham bun feasts, are described. All these differ in how merit-generating elements are configured and in when they are held. Their only constant—and most important—element is the sedekoh of offering a meritorious smorgasbord of food for guests. Like all meritmaking performances, feasts assist the merit-maker, others in dunio, and the dead. I argue that the operation of merit in these tham bun feasts resembles certain forms of sedekoh that have been described.

Introduction Two of three discrete merit-making elements were included in the previous chapter, and two of three merit-making complexes shall be the subject of the one that follows. This chapter describes the discrete merit-making element of sedekoh, and a range of merit-making feasts (the first of the three merit-making complexes). The first half of this chapter describes merit-generation through acts of charity (PM. sedekoh, SM. sedekah, Ar. sadaqah, Th. tham thaan), with the second half dealing with a range of feasting complexes. I have presented this material for a number of reasons. Some of C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_6,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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the forms of sedekoh that I describe involve reading the Qur’an and offering prayers (PM. du’o), by a tok ime, tok guru or tok babo, who perform similar ritual functions in merit-making feasts. In both sedekoh and feasting complexes, in order for merit to be generated the following conditions are necessary: halal funds must not only be used with ikhalah; whatever is done must also be preceded by a niat that specifies the identity of the person receiving this merit; the recipient of the merit must also be designated through accompanying petitionary prayers (PM. du’o). Another reason for dealing with sedekoh and feasting complexes together is that the merit-making credentials of these feasts are based on the sedekoh of food eaten by those who attend. As noted in Chapter 4, no one in Cabetigo viewed merit as having to be produced at social feasts (PM. make pulot) where donations are expected. However, despite generating no merit, such feasts are still (confusingly) referred to as tham bun. Extant explanations of Muslim merit-making in Thailand were almost exclusively concerned with merit-making feasts. Patya was the only anthropologist to distinguish between merit-generating kenduri and social make pulot. While Burr offered structurally imaginative proposals, Scupin seemed stumped by the apparently structureless nature of tham bun feasts in Bangkok (1978, p. 141). The approach of this chapter follows Woodward’s treatment of the Javanese slametan (1988), that attempts to move beyond what Torsten Tschacher describes as the “structuralist impasse” created by Geertz and his groupies (2009, p. 56). Sedekoh is a topic that is only rarely included in ethnographic accounts of Muslim societies (see Parkin, 1994, 2000b). This chapter begins with a description of the forms which sedekoh takes in Cabetigo. These reveal that merit made from sedekoh assists the merit-maker in akhirat and the deceased already there, and also the living in dunio. I reiterate the importance of ikhalah and the use of halal funds in sedekoh, both these determine whether merit is successfully generated, and if so how much. The second half of this chapter describes the range of merit-making feasts that Cabetigo’s Muslim residents sustain. While many feasting complexes I observed and participated in are widely sustained in Southeast Asia, none of these apart from mawlid are globally normative. The merit-making feasts that I describe below are funeral feasts (Th. ngaan sop, tham bun samrap phu sia chiwit, or tham bun samrap khon tai, PM. wa’ arwoh, wa’ ngatek), mawlid feasts (Th. ngaan mawlid. PM. wa’ mawlid) held to honour the birth of the Prophet, house-warming feasts (Th. kuen baan mai; PM. naik rumoh baru), and generic merit-making feasts held for a range of reasons (Th. tham bun, PM. wa’ make, or wajike). These various feasts are distinguishable not only by their timing and function, but also by the manner in which ritual elements within them are configured. I delineate below the manner in which the merit-generating performances of Qur’anic recitations, chants, du’o and semaye hajat are configured around the sedekoh of smorgasbord food offered to the guests. Unlike Qur’anic readings and fardu prayers, performing sedekoh and patronising feastings requires no religious expertise or discipline. Sedekoh is also entirely voluntary. A short explanation for not including a discussion of the wajib zakat (for those that can afford it) is necessary. My main reason is that no one in Cabetigo refers to

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the annual payment of the 2.5% zakat as tham bun. There are a number of possible explanations for this. This may be a specific example of the general quandary of the wajib being referred to as tham bun. Is sedekoh considered a sunnat version of zakat, similar to semaye sunnat, sunnat fasts and umroh? Another reason for the non-inclusion of zakat is that few in Cabetigo pay the zakat, as this is only wajib for those whose annual surplus exceeds 30,000 baht. Of all wajib elements, this is also the most private. Furthermore, zakat in Cabetigo is also less organised than in Muslim-majority countries. Although payable at the Pattani Islamic Council, or to a tok ime, many distribute money directly to those who are regarded as eligible, sometimes at an annual mawlid feast. Although I was told that all acts of charity were zakat (not sedekoh), most regarded this to be an uninformed and misguided position.

The Forms of Sedekoh Sedekoh in Cabetigo may take a number of forms. Monetary donations (PM. sedekoh duit, Th. tham tarn) are made by some. As the following person recounted, “Some people have money, but—for whatever reason—they are unwilling to sedekoh. Some poor people donate more than rich people!” The sedekoh of money does not require large amounts to be meritorious. The wife of the coffee shop owner told me, “We don’t have to have lots of money to make sedekoh with. We can make merit with only two or five baht! We might give clothes—it all has to do with our heart”. In a coffee shop I once heard an impromptu and cutting caricature of a high profile donation made by a wealthy local family in Cabetigo. The raconteur was Ased, who was as cynical as his audience. He addressed his imaginary crowd: I welcome you, honoured governor, provincial administrative authority representatives, and Mr Mayor to this most humble ceremony (waving his hands over the half-drunken glasses of tea and coffee on the table) held to mark my modest donation.

After everyone enjoyed a good laugh, Ased turned to me and explained: Some might organise something big, big, big! They invite lots of people—including heaps of important people. I don’t like their way! Small donations to needy people are the best form of tham bun.

A sedekoh might alternatively take the form of loans to the needy. These are distinct from business loans given without any consideration of merit. My landlady claimed that loans to those genuinely in need receive a reward of up to 10 times the amount lent. As dying in a state of indebtedness is universally considered a serious issue, paying off a relative’s debt is a responsibility, as the following Malay businessman explained: It is the responsibility of the children to pay any debts. The person owed the money may come asking for the debt to be repaid, which the children might do. If they do not, a decision

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may be made to wipe the debt. This is a meritorious thing for the person owed the money to do. He says “halal”. If this doesn’t happen, then the person is still in debt.

Another Malay businessman also claimed the forgiving of debts to be meritorious. He related a story about his mother and father who, as business people, had many people indebted to them. An indebted customer came to his mother to explain the reasons for not having made repayments in the previous months. Much to the son’s dismay, his mother forgave the entire debt. While he now understands that this had been an act of charity, at the time both he and his siblings were very angry. They argued with their mother that she should have forgiven only half the debt. He also told me a story about how he was charged with taking responsibility for his father’s estate after he passed away. One of his tasks was to track down all the people that his father owed money to when he passed away suddenly. Fortunately, he had recorded these in an account book. After the funeral, I tracked them all down. I went to their shops and businesses. I introduced myself and informed them that I had come to clear my father’s debts. Most of them were Chinese and were very surprised. Almost all asked for just a part of the total amount actually owed. This would have been merit for them.

How Muslims in Cabetigo earn a living—and how much they earn—affects the shape sedekoh takes for them. For many merchants (PM. ore meneko), their customers are the most common recipients of sedekoh. A Malay woman who operates a sweet shop (Th. raan khay kanum) in the neighbourhood explained how she sometimes doesn’t charge people: We think that’s a good thing to do. I think that merit should be something we do everyday. Selling for living, as we do, can be a way we make merit . . . in little ways. We might sell three baht of ice, but are generous with the last scope. When we are generous—that is meritorious.

My landlady commented on differences between the forms of charity in Cabetigo with what she observed in Saudi Arabia: People here are much poorer than the Saudis. They are so rich! In Saudi Arabia, if someone wanted to have a feast, then they just pay for the whole thing! When you eat at their wedding feasts, you do not make a donation. They liken it to tham bun by just giving money. People here are poor. People are always asking for money to build mosques or ponok’ schools . . . The Saudi just give money.

Even the poorest individuals and families in Cabetigo insisted that anyone was able to make merit through sedekoh. A day-labourer related, “I use what I have. If I have money, I give money. If I have strength, we give that”. Ka’ Moh not only gave the expected sedekoh to those who read the Qur’an for Be Kuding, but she also donated all his clothes to them. She stated bluntly, “We aren’t rich, so I donated these to the tok babo and the people who came”. A Malay pushbike taxi rider in his mid-70s explained that he did not need to give money: I use my strength, if this is something I can give when I have no money. We can help to build a mosque if we have no money to donate. There are many ways to make merit—even giving or accepting the sale (PM. salaam).

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Is sedekoh synonymous with good deeds? Ka’ Yah, who owns another small shop popular among children in the neighbourhood, thinks so: It’s about little things. If a kid falls down, and we help him—that’s tham bun. On this earth (Th. lork ni) we must help each other. Even little things like giving advice. That is tham bun! Some just do something good because there is a need that’s in front of them, sometimes automatically.

Another Malay woman stated, “Tham bun means doing good, right? This includes many things which will create merit (phonlabun) for us”. A Malay man in his 80s and increasingly bedridden explained, “Allah has said ‘if you do good, I will have mercy and increase (PM. tamah) your pahalo’. Allah will also bless us with riski”. Many good deeds were viewed as meritorious, such as arranging a marriage, helping a blind person across the road, simple acts (such as smiling), spreading happiness, thinking good thoughts, honesty, wholesome speech and resisting the temptation to argue. One person elaborated, saying, “Greeting someone with ‘asalamalaikum’, having a good conversation, or conveying one’s peace to someone else, saying, ‘pass on my greetings (PM. kiring sale kedia lah)’—all this is merit-making”. Muslims should also do good to animals, as Ali explained in the following story: An ‘alim (Ar. Islamic scholar) with 2,000 students, who had once helped a kitten, died and went to heaven. The ‘alim met an angel, and asked him what he had done while he was in dunio that enabled him to receive all the pleasures of heaven. The angel told him to ask him and he would tell him if he was correct. The ‘alim asked, “Was it because I had 2,000 students?” “No,” said the angel. “Was it because I have been an ‘alim who has studied for 20 years?” “No,” answered the angel. “I made tens of millions of baht in donations! Is that the reason?” The angel said that this was not the reason. This went on and on. No matter what the ‘alim asked, the angel insisted that this was not the reason. Finally, he asked “how is it that I have entered heaven, then?” The angel answered: “Do you remember one night when it was raining hard, you had returned home and noticed a small kitten all wet and cold? You picked the cat up and dried it off, took it home and looked after it. You entered heaven because of what you did to this kitten”.

Many who emphasised the importance of performing good deeds lamented the scarcity of people who do so alongside fardu prayers. A Thai Muslim woman likened well-balanced Muslims to people possessing legs, arms, eyes and ears. She then added, “If we don’t have all these, then we are handicapped. Muslims who only talk, pray and fast without doing good are not as good as they should be”. Another female informant conceded that while lamaat and poso were ways of making merit, the person doing them “might not have a good heart. They might not be kind—never helping people who are in need! They mightn’t have any relationship with (or help) our neighbours or others in the community”. My wife was once told a story about a woman in Cabetigo famous for her good deeds but infamous for her neglect of fardu prayers. Her remains were discovered to have not decomposed when a grave for one of her relatives was being dug. The woman relating this story cited a hadith stating that those who do sedekoh will not be eaten by worms. Although there are many forms of sedekoh in Cabetigo, one of the most common is the giving of food. Women in Cabetigo regularly bag two or three portions of a pot

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of curry made for the family, and distribute these to households in the community. Many regard this as especially meritorious on the wan di (Th. good days) of Friday. One person for whom this was a regular practice explained, “When we do this, we have to niat pahalo. If we do this, we believe we will receive it”. Whatever the shape and however small, acts of charity that are preceded by a niat and made with ikhalah are without fail rewarded with merit.

Sedekoh for the Dead and Living In addition to merit-makers receiving merit through good deeds and charitable acts, so do the dead in alam al-barzakh and the living still in dunio. Whenever a Thai Muslim woman in Cabetigo was reminded of deceased relatives, she recounts inviting people to her place for a cup of tea and some snacks (Th. khanum, PM. tepong). All this is done with a niat so that the merit from this sedekoh reaches the departed relatives. A common practice among widows in Cabetigo wishing to make merit for their husbands is to buy a bag (PM pukuh, Th hoo) of cooked rice in the market. This is then given away as a sedekoh to a tok guru or tok babo. He is asked to read a prayer (PM baco du’o, Th. aan du’o) or recite a verse from the Qur’an over this sedekoh of rice. This is followed by a prayer requesting that the merit from this sedekoh be sent to the named deceased. Whenever I enquired about the identity of the tok guru or tok babo who performed this service, almost none would divulge this information. The reason these people were sought out were concerns about making mistakes if they attempted to read the Qur’an or recite a prayer themselves. When I asked about what happened to this rice, some commented that the tok guru or tok babo might eat it himself or give it to his children or grandchildren. One widow appeared highly embarrassed at having made a sedekoh with food she had not cooked herself. She added, “But I put it in on a plate when I gave it to him, so that it looked nice”. Ka’ Moh recounted once visiting a tok babo with some rice to make such a request. Much to her surprise, he refused to accept the rice. After gently scolding her for coming, he read a prayer, dedicated the pahalo to Be Kuding, and gave the food back to her. After a number of interviews which dealt with this practice, it became apparent that some who disapproved of the practice were suspicious of the wealth and influence of some tok babos. What is the function of merit in sedekoh of this nature? Does the sedekoh yield merit for the deceased? Is sedekoh a form of payment for religious services? Does the merit made from the sedekoh increase the efficacy of the du’o? Alternatively, does the du’o increase the efficacy of the merit made from the sedekoh? Answers to these questions vary as those who perform this form of sedekoh have different intentions, so that a variety of requests are made through this du’o. What is described above resembles how Sasak Muslims on the island of Lombok near Bali produce pahalo for the dead. Kari Telle asserts that reformists on Lombok insist that the Qur’an’s unparalleled potency requires no material accompaniment.

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Reformists attempt to undo the intertwining of words and objects by “delimiting the significance and function of material objects vis-a-vis authoritative speech” (2000, p. 801). Traditionalist resistance to this reformist project is based on their belief that although the Qur’an is superior to food, in transactions with spiritual agents powerful words and prayer are inseparable from objects: words and material objects must be offered together. As both were viewed as essential to the efficacy of these rituals, campaigns which espoused synthesis were more successful than those advocating substitution (2000, p. 772). Sedekoh jariyah refers to donations to public facilities or services such as wells, roads, covered seats (PM. gere, Th. saalaa), mosques, prayer rooms, schools, orphanages and hostels. As a public service, teaching is also included in sedekoh jariyah: one’s students can serve society with their knowledge in a number of ways, including teaching others. Pak Ma’ Gu explains below that his teaching of the Qur’an as sedekoh jariyah: In the past there were no teachers here in this part of Cabetigo and I wanted my children and grandchildren to be able to read the Kure (PM. Qur’an). So I started to teach. Soon others heard and sent their kids. I do this for Allah, but some people give me sedekoh. This teaching is sedekoh jariyah as the benefit of what I have taught goes on and on. They can use their ability to read the Kure which they learned from me, in their daily lives, and they can also teach others.

Sedekoh jariyah is the longest lasting form of merit-making, as the one making this sedekoh receives merit as long as these public facilities are used. A Thai Muslim woman explained, “When we die, we will receive merit from donations to mosques, or schools, or the land we have donated for these to be built on. Whenever these facilities are used, the bun will come continuously (Th. rueai-rueai)”. A Thai Muslim woman commented in an interview, “Even after we have died, we’ll still get bun from this. This is better than these funeral feasts that are like having a party!” A Pakistan friend who strongly reformist in his views mentioned that he had left instructions with his family that they should make merit for him by making sedekoh jariyah to a mosque or school. A Malay man involved in local politics explained plans to establish a foundation for orphans with the seven rai of land he owed. He expected that this wakaf would be especially meritorious for two reasons: donating this land was sedekoh jariyah; and the beneficiaries of his wakaf were orphans. He added: There’s no use in giving this land to the kids [his own children]—they’ll just fight over it when I am gone. Also, if the government gives something, it’s worth nothing. Islam teaches that if we want to get to heaven, more is expected of us than just salat. We also have to help the community.

Hassanah explained that sedekoh jariyah is the preferred method of sedekoh for Arabs. Indeed Ali has personally helped a number of Arab donors to make sedekoh jariyah towards the building, repairing, decorating or expansion of mosques in Pattani. She was of the opinion that by doing he would also be rewarded.

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Who benefits from sedekoh jariyah is determined by the recipient named in the niat and the person whose money is used. Those making merit for themselves use their own money, while those performing sedekoh jariyah for the deceased often use the deceased’s estate. Various forms of endowment (Ar. wakaf) are another form of sedekoh jariyah.1 A wealthy Malay business man explained: Perhaps I have some land and I want it to benefit something or someone, like orphans. I might have some rental properties, and I want the rental income from these to support orphans. If I set up an endowment, I can’t use these for any other purpose.

Those wishing to set up a wakaf are required to register this at the Majlih Ugamo (SM. Majlis Ugama). Those endowing land are required to provide evidence of ownership. Due diligence with documentation is necessary to avoid the funds and property becoming subject to inheritance claims. An official at the Majlih commented, “We help set up wakaf in which everything is official. This is better than setting up something with a mosque council”. There is no consensus about what happens when public facilities built through sedekoh jariyah are either destroyed or no longer used. According to one Malay man, opinions are divided between the merit stopping should this happen, and merit continuing due to the niat with which these donations were made. So far I have described a variety of charitable acts that either adds to one’s personal tally of merit or assists the deceased. Below, it is demonstrated that merit made through sedekoh may also assist the living in dunio. Many Cabetigo residents explained that merit from sedekoh lubricated the du’o which is offered for the living. Not only does Ka’ Moh make sedekoh with a niat to assist Be Kuding, but she also does this whenever concerned about her daughters. Although offering a du’o after her semaye is the first thing Ka’ Moh does whenever anxious about any of them, the next time she is in the market, she makes a small sedekoh to someone—thinking of her daughter as she does. Another woman stated: Sometimes we wake up and we don’t feel well. So we think “Ah! I’ll make a bit of merit”. If someone asks for something, we’ll give it. We might also make du’o that our work will go smoothly. That’s what its like. Whether we get it, or not, is up to God.

The owner of one of the most popular keda kopi in Cabetigo explained how merit from her sedekoh assists her, her family, and her business: Suppose we give 20 baht to a child or an old person in the morning, well by the afternoon someone will come and pay us 200 baht! We might have given some rice and curry. By the evening, someone else will have come to our house with something to eat as well!

The reward from sedekoh is obtained in this world (PM. dunio), although this is determined by what has been hoped for and where. Pointing to her packed coffee shop that we were sitting in she stated: See how many people there are in our coffee shop! There are many coffee shops around here—but they don’t have as many people as us! Why is this? We lamaat, we du’o, and we make sedekoh with the things we have in the shop. See! Our shop is full! Some people 1

For a discussion of waqf in Thailand see Prapartchob (1991).

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ask “why it is that our shop is filled the whole time?” It is because we make merit! Allah must eventually reward us—it’s not like we do some it time today and expect the reward tomorrow. Sometimes we pray our debts will be repaid, then two or three days later, this happens. As soon as we make merit, good things begin to happen.

Another coffee shop owner related that he was not only faithful in fardu prayers, but was also generous in his shop. “I give sedekoh to people who can’t pay and [to] my friends”. He explained that sedekoh was especially important for ore meneko like him as this blesses their businesses. “People who sell for a living tham bun more than those with government jobs: When we are generous, God blesses us”.

Variables Affecting the Amount of Merit The amount of bun or pahalo generated from sedekoh is affected by a number of variables. In addition to more merit being made by sedekoh on wan di days (Th. good days to make merit) such as Fridays, this section considers the importance of ikhalah, niat and sources of the funds. Before doing so, there are divergent opinions about the amount of bun or pahalo that sedekoh generates. Many stressed that the recipients of sedekoh should be good people (PM. ore baik, Th. khon di). I was informed in an interview that on Friday night an informant might buy “some food items and give them to someone in the community who is a good person—who always prays at the mosque every prayer time. Friday is a good day to do this”. A Malay woman who runs a small business selling everyday consumables in the front of her house concurred: Giving to a good person might be better than [giving to] someone who isn’t. When organising a feast, we should invite good people to these. They might not be rich, but they are good. It should have nothing to do with showing off that we are rich or of high esteem.

Others specifically mentioned the religiously observant. Many held that sedekoh to tok ime was particularly meritorious. Hassanah explained that: “The tok ime is a righteous person who does many things, so I feel that if I feed him we would get more merit than an ordinary person. You show by what they do that they are a good person. But this is not always the case. A tok ime may not always be that different from others. But, a tok ime is special because he has more knowledge than ordinary people”. Others, such as the following Pakistani woman, disagreed: You know, some people prefer to make sedekoh to a tok guru because they think it will bring more benefit. Actually, we can do this with ordinary people as well. It doesn’t have to be a tok guru or a tok ime. Personally, I’d give to people with no other opportunity. There are so many poor people around.

While many agreed that sedekoh to the poor (PM. muskin, Th. khon yaak jon) is the most meritorious, people disagreed about who the poor were. No one in Cabetigo denied that Pok Nik was poor. His funeral feast—or more correctly lack of it—is one of three case studies considered below. His widow, Phi Da, who is a Thai who converted to Islam to marry Pok Nik, holds that sedekoh should be made to the religiously observant and not to tok ime, tok guru or tok babo.

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Whenever Phi Da is in the market and stumbles upon something that Pok Nik was fond of, she returns on a Thursday or Friday to buy it. She then gives this to Pok Soh, an 80-year-old neighbour respected for his faithfulness in fardu prayers. When she does so, she says, “These are for you. I bought them because Pak Nik used to like them”. She adds, “He knows what to do! I don’t have to explain!” Cabetigo’s Muslim residents are particularly adamant that sedekoh must be made with sincerity (PM. ikhalah). It is not insignificant that many of my questions about sincerity with respect to sedekoh received answers that referred to feasts. This is one of a number of reasons for proposing merit-generation feasting complexes to represent highly ritualised forms of sedekoh bolstered by other merit-generating performances. Muslims in Cabetigo are united in their distaste for the big meritmaking feasts which are occasionally patronised in Cabetigo. One Malay woman who, although now comfortably well-off, came from a simple village background, explained her preference for small feasts where the poor were invited. Most would be too shy to attend bigger feasts. She said: They might be afraid that people will look down at them or think that it’s not appropriate for them to go to this person’s place. So in the end of the day, we mightn’t get anything! In Islam, you can’t do this! Fridays are also the best time to have feasts. Muhammad was poor and did not support different levels (of status) in Islam.

A Thai Muslim woman whose grandfather travelled to Isaan (Th. north-east Thailand) from Afghanistan was adamant that her opinions on sedekoh differed from most Malays in Cabetigo. “We aren’t into the big feasts”, she stated. “If we give food to the hungry, and the people who are poorer than us, then this is very meritorious. If we have a merit-making event, we’ll invite the poor, people with little opportunity, or the elderly”. One of Cabetigo’s ahl-sunnah cited the importance of the poor in sedekoh. “No matter what you do, the only way you will get merit from sedekoh is when the recipients are poor. When you hold a feast and invite your friend, that’s a party— not merit-making! People who do that won’t get any merit”. He added, “If you have money, give it to the orphans and widows, or others who are really poor”. In discussions of ikhalah, Thai-speaking Muslims employ a number of terms with overlapping semantic fields. The elegant Thai term for merit, phonlabun, is similar to a more general term for reward (Th. phontoopthaen) and illegitimate advantage or benefit (Th. phonprayoot). Bunkhun denotes a favour, and toopthaen bunkhun means to return a favour. This permits Thai-speakers to engage in colourful speech acts. One might express skepticism that someone is seeking religious merit (Th. phonlabun) through sedekoh as they appear to be seeking advantage (Th. wang phonprayoot). Some use money to seek favours (Th. toopthaen bunkhun, PM. balas budi) rather than bun from Allah. When I asked a Malay informant to explain the differences between making pahalo with balas budi he explained: “Budi is obligation. Some people make a sedekoh without a niat for pahalo because they want something in return”. That said, this is not always illegitimate or irreligious. For instance, a Malay woman in her late 40s once related that many years ago, while living in Bangkok, she was

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required to return to Pattani to look after her grandfather. She did this for many years. While she did so, she asked Allah to provide someone to look after me in this way when I am old. Sedekoh performed with the appropriate niat and ikhalah ensured the production of phonlabun. Wherever this was absent, some sort of reward (Th. phontoopthaen) would be received or favour returned (Th. toopthaen bunkhun). Some sedekoh, however, may even be viewed as seeking advantage (Th. wang phonprayoot). One of the most rigorously debated sedekoh in Cabetigo involved donations made by a local politician, Muk Sulaiman, who served as a parliamentary representative for Pattani.2 In 2001, he began building a teak mansion on family land next to the Surau Rim Khlong (Fig. 6.1). He had made a sizable sedekoh jariyah to the expansion of the surau in 2002. He also built two saalaa (Th. covering seated areas) that are located between the surau and his mansion. There was no doubt about who paid for these saalaa, as they were constructed in the same style and with the same materials as his mansion just 10 metres away. While the 2005 Thailand general election returned Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra and his Thai Rak Thai Party with an unprecedented majority (winning 374 out of the 500 seats in the House of Representatives), neither Muk Sulaiman nor any other the Southern Muslim members of Thai Rak Thai were re-elected. In the tea shops in Cabetigo near Surau Rim Khlong after Iso on the night before the 2005 general election (6 February), I witnesses many animated conversations about what had just happened in the surau. Although spending most of his time in Bangkok (even after the escalation of violence in 2004), Muk Sulaiman had returned

Fig. 6.1 Surau Rim Khlong, Muk Sulaiman’s house, and the sala in-between them

2 Along with other Muslim politicians from the southern provinces, this politician was a member of the wadah fraction of the New Aspiration Party that won the 1996 general election, in which its leader General Chavalit Yongchaiyudh became Prime Minister. The New Aspiration Party subsequently joined Thaksin Shinawatra’s Thai Rak Thai Party, which won the 2001 general election.

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to Cabetigo a week before the election. At the completion of Iso he sought to make a speech to this captive audience. As he began, there was an enormous walk-out. Some commenting on this incident claimed that his sedekoh had been unsuccessful in his attempts to wang phonprayoot (seek advantage). Another remarked that his money had neither produced phonlabun (merit) nor phonprayoot (Th. advantage) for him, saying “All he has is his mansion”.3

The Merit-Generating Elements of Feasting Complexes Like all merit-making complexes described below and in the following chapter, merit-making feasts generate bun or pahalo in a number of ways. My analysis of feasting complexes in Cabetigo resembles Mark Woodward’s study of the Javanese slametan (1988), who developed the approach to feasts in Kelantan proposed by French anthropologist Jeanne Cuisner (1963). Woodward and Cuisner highlighted that in Southeast Asian feasting complexes are a number of rituals were performed, that I refer to as discrete merit-making elements, namely Qur’anic readings and recitations, salat and sedekoh. A number of factors influence the manner in which these elements are configured. Some feasts are based around a particular element. Variations might also relate to the preferences of the patron or officiating specialist. Table 6.1 summarises the ritual constituents of the funeral feasts, mawlid feasts, house-warming feasts, and general tham bun feasts described in this chapter which are: (1) the non-negotiable sedekoh of food; (2) the reading or recital of the Holy Qur’an; (3) the performance of a range of chants; (4) the reading of the Barzanji (PM. zanji) in mawlid celebrations; (5) the offering of du’o; and (6) the praying of semaye hajat. In all these feasting complexes the only constant—and most important—ritual element around which all are organised is the sedekoh of food. I once asked whether the host of a mawlid feasts would received merit. I was told, “After the zanji is read and the salawat is completed there is food—so the answer is ‘yes’!” Readers are already familiar with sedekoh performing a number of functions in the economy Table 6.1 Ritual constituents of feasting complexes Ritual constituents

Funeral feasts Mawlid feast House-warming feasts General tham bun feast

Sedekoh

Qur’an

√

√

√ √

√ √

Chanting

Zanji

Ngatek Salawat

√

√

Du’o

Semaye Hajat

√ √ √ √

√ √

3 Duncan McCargo’s mention of this walk-out testifies to this incident’s wide circulation and fabled status (2008, pp. 73–74).

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of merit: sedekoh may generate merit; represent payment for religious services; or bolster the efficacy of accompanying du’o. This resembles accounts supplied by Telle in her study on Lombok (2000). As I have already mentioned, contrary to reformist claims that the unparalleled potency of the Qur’an requires no material accompaniment most people prefer that words and material objects be offered together (2000, p. 801). Most emphasise prayer over food. Compromises permitting the synthesis of Qur’anic recitations, chants and du’o with the sedekoh of food have been more successful than attempts to impose an austere substitution, namely the unaccompanied recitals of the Qur’an. Muslims on Lombok perpetuate funeral feasts, but these have been linguistically refrained as examples of merit-generating sedekah. Nevertheless, those attending prayer feasts where zikr is performed and prayers are offered for the deceased are provided with substantial meals. According to Telle, those hosting these funeral feasts reject suggestions that these feed the spirits of the dead. What the dead need is pahala. Nevertheless, they are obliged to feed those who have gathered to generate this pahala. Coffee and cakes might be appropriate for less demanding prayer sessions, but more substantial meals are required for men to concentrate through the long, monotonous recitations. Food, therefore, is put in the service of generating religious merit through prayers. Food is only served to provide sustenance for the men to perform the (higher) goal of generating merit through worship and prayer (2000, pp. 798–799). Telle claims that references to mortuary feasts as sedekah attempts to: Assimilate long-standing practices into the religious discourse concerning alms and merit. Stressing the moral aspect of feeding their guests, sponsors hope to procure merit from giving gifts of food. Another way in which people press food into service to generate merit is by insisting that the availability of food and drink supports men in the recitation of prayers and zikr and gives them strength to perform pious works. Elaborately prepared ritual foods are less easily justified as “serving the moral and practical purpose of feeding and integrated into the discourse of merit-making” (2000, p. 802).

Abdul Ghoffir Muhaimin develops similar arguments, by emphasising the importance of the sedekoh of food in the production of pahalo through a range of kenduri in Cirebon. “Its essence involves performing sedekah (sadaqa) and donga or do’a (du’a) on certain important occasions. Thus it is essentially Islamic; its roots can be found directly or indirectly in the formal Scriptures, the Qur’an and the hadith” (2006, p. 136). Although sedekoh is present in all the meritorious smorgasbords that are described below, other discrete merit-making elements are also present. These include Qur’anic readings and recitations that are typically performed by the officiating ritual specialist, who is often a local tok ime or tok guru. Reciting the Qur’an—which is a potent source of merit—typically leads into a variety of chants. The same posture that men assume when reading the Qur’an is adopted for performing chants: sitting cross-legged (PM. duk selo) with raised cupped hands (as when making du’o), while also sometimes swaying slightly. Julian Millie comments on the lack of attention that anthropologists pay to chants in

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the following manner, “The Arabic component of Indonesian Islamic ritual, especially in ethnographic studies, is too often summarily dismissed as ‘chant’ without consideration of its referential component” (2008, p. 122). A number of chants are performed in the merit-making feasts described below. The most common is the ngatek (PM.). This is the vernacular equivalent to the tahlil (Ar. lailahlailahallah, “there is no God but Allah”). That ngatek is the essential ritual element of funeral feasts is testified to Muslims in Cabetigo referring to these as wa’ ngatek. In addition to being performed at funeral feasts, ngatek is also common whenever merit is made for the deceased, such as when visiting the kubor. Chants might also be referred to as zikir. This denotes the remembrance of Allah’s attributes, and/or the recital of surahs of the Qur’an that have been committed to memory.4 Other terms for chanting include tasbih (subahanaallah (Ar.) “Glory be to Allah”), tahmid (alhumdulilah (Ar.) praise be to Allah), takbir (Allahu akhbar (Ar.) “God is great”). Tasbih also specifically refers to subahanaallah, and to receptions of subahanaallah, alhumdulilah, and Allahu Akhbar that are commonly performed at the completion of lamaat. Worshippers count the repetitions of their chanting using finger joints or prayer beads called tasbih. Finally, salawat refers to blessings given to the Muhammad. Along with the Qur’an, zikir, tahlil, tahmid, tasbih, takbir salawat are all considered powerful and merit-generating speech acts. Here is Ali’s explanation of tasbih: If we sit doing nothing, we don’t make any merit! However, if we sit and recite “subahanaallah, alhumdulilah, Allahu Akhbar”, merit is produced. This is better than spending hours every day in a coffee shop. We do this many times—even 100 times. Do you know that on the last day there will be a scale? On that day, the bun that we get from doing this while we have been sitting, is able to help us. On the Day of Judgment, everyone will have an account. There will also be a scale that will weigh our sins and our goodness (khwamdi).

A Thai Muslim male informant once answered questions about the importance of zikir by commenting on the importance of lailahlailahallah (Ar. tahlil): When we do zikir, it changes how we feel. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) once said, “increase your faith!” His followers asked, “How do we do this?” He replied, “By reciting ‘lailahlailahallah’ when we are free. Say this as much as you can, it will increase you faith.” This is zikir and very meritorious.

Like other merit-generating ritual elements, there were other rewards from zikir. A Pakistani woman explained that zikir keeps believers close to Allah: I know it’s something that Allah likes, but I don’t know how much merit I’ll get. [. . .] I talk to Allah every evening after I have read the Qur’an, doing zikir as well. Then I’ll just speak what is on my heart. We don’t know how Allah will reward us, but we are hopeful. This hope has to do with this life as well as the life to come.

Merit generated through zikir reaches the deceased through the appropriate du’o and niat, as the following Thai Muslim man explained: 4 As with tasbih, others disagreed, insisting that zikir is the spiritual discipline of constantly recalling Allah and his attributes. This can be performed anywhere, anytime.

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The merit shall reach—inshaallah! After we have done zikir, read the Qur’an, we will pray a du’o in which we ask this merit to reach the dead. We believe this merit will help the person. You have to remember, merit is made from more than the feast! It is also made from zikir, and reading of the Qur’an. What is also important is that du’o is made in order for the merit to be effectively transferred to the deceased. We pray a blessing. The merit we make from the things we do—lamaat, fasting, haj—falls on our ancestors as well as us. It’s to do with our niat. We can help our fathers and mothers, and our relatives.

At mawlid feasts the salawat is chanted at the completion of the barzanji (PM. zanji). Both these elements are unique to mawlid feasts. The barzanji is a series of poems narrating popular Arabic biographies of the Prophet. Its name is derived from the eighteenth century biography of the Prophet by Ja’far ibn Hasan ibn ‘Abd al-Karim al-Barzanji (see Gade, 2002, p. 346; Gibson, 2000, p. 52; Kaptein, 1993a; Katz, 2007). Regardless of the form and length of zikir, tahlil, tahmid, tasbih, takbir or salawat, these are followed by the offering of a petitionary prayer, or du’o.5 Is it significant that a du’o is only offered after these powerful and merit-generating performances? The recipient of this generated merit is determined by the du’o. It is reiterated that in addition to requests being made through du’o, the efficacy of the du’o may also be increased through the generation of bun or pahalo. Although readers are now familiar with the importance of niat in meritgeneration and transference, distinctions between niat and du’o are occasionally unclear. The following Malay woman employed niat in ways that resembled du’o when she stated, “In making-merit for other people, there needs to be a niat. We have to mention their names. ‘I dedicate my pahalo from the reading of Qulhuwallah to Abdullah’”. A Thai Muslim man also stated, “When we read any surah or ayat, after you have finished, you make a niat that this merit should reach and help the ancestors you name”. Through their du’o, merit-makers may seek God’s protection and blessing on the living. Alternatively, his forgiveness, mercy and acceptance of the dead may also be sought. Du’o may be offered in any language. However, supplications offered in one’s mother-tongue are distinct from the repertoire of Arabic du’o that most memorise from an early age. Nah is Pok Nik’s daughter whose funeral feast is one of a number of case studies considered below. Nah commented that both she and her son (Amran) make du’o for Pok Nik. “After I have finished semaye, there is some du’o I can say for Pok Nik. This is something that Amran is taught at school. Du’o that bless his parents are some of the first he is taught”. A young Malay man once made the following comments about du’o during an interview in which we discussed his brother’s funeral: After reading Ya Sin and doing ngatek, the tok ime prayed the following prayer: “Surah Ya Sin that we have just read we dedicate to [full name is given] who has just died. Have

5 David Parkin provides an extremely helpful exposition of Muslim “prayer” (2000a, pp. 5–11) which includes concise elaborations on the distinguishing characteristics of dua, tawasul, dhikr and salat. For more on tawasul (Ar. to an intermediary) see two recent studies by Julian Millie (2008).

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mercy on him, oh Allah! Forgive his sins and anything he might have done which was not in accordance to Islam”. He prayed this in Malay. It is like a conclusion to everything that we have done.

Du’o is central to reformist burials. These are offered for the deceased following the recital of al-Fatihah. Although few reformists attend funeral feasts, they make it known that they will pray for the deceased. In an interview with the tok ime of Masyid Pakistan, I canvassed his views on funeral feasts by relating hadiths quoted by traditionalists to justify them. For example, the Prophet passing a cemetery once prayed for the deceased (see Bowen, 1984, 1993, 1995; Woodward, 1988). He dismissed these accounts saying, “Ah! That is different! Our Prophet was offering du’o for that person. There is nothing wrong with offering du’o. When we tham bun, we du’o—but du’o is not synonymous with tham bun!” The fifth, and final, component of the feasting complexes that is considered below is semaye hajat. While reading the zanji and the chanting of salawat are the central elements of mawlid feasts, all house-warmings commence with semaye hajat. Semaye hajat may also be included in what has been referred to as general tham bun feasts. Below are representative case studies of funeral feasts, mawlid celebrations, house-warmings, and generic feasts most commonly referred to as tham bun (Th.) or wa’ make (PM.) that I have participated in.

Funeral Feasts The following case studies complete descriptions begun in previous chapters about how the families of Be Kuding, Pok Nik and Pak Wae made merit. I will also relate how a Pakistani man who I refer to as Pak Cik See was cared for by his family in the weeks and months following his death. Pak Cik See passed away 5 days before Pak Wae during the fast month in 2003. The third person who passed away over these 5 days was Pok Nik, whose widow (Phi Na) and adopted daughter (Nah) have already been introduced to readers. As traditionalist Malays, Pok Nik and Pok Wae had more in common than Pok Cik See. Not only was Pok Cik See a member of one of Cabetigo’s Pathan clans, but he and his family held strong modernist convictions. As such, no funeral feast was held for Pok Cik. Following semaye mayat at the Pakistani mosque, he was buried in the section of Kubor Tok Ayoh given to the Pakistani community by the last rajo of Pattani’s wife. After he was buried, al-Fatihah was recited and du’o offered. Pok Nik passed away 1 day after Pok Cik See. Pok Nik had suffering a debilitating stroke many years earlier. By 2003, his health had deteriorated to the point that he needed to be hospitalised. Although (like Pok Wae) Pok Nik was a Malay traditionalist, he lived in abject poverty. Along with the houses that surrounded it, Pok Nik’s house was in an advanced state of disrepair. Neither Pok Nik nor his wife Phi Da (introduced above) could even meet the costs of the repairs. Not only did

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Pok Nik lose his only source of income after his stroke, but Phi Da was unable to work as Pok Nik required full-time care. Pok Nik died in the Pattani provincial hospital while Nah was keeping watch (Th. faw). Nah immediately phoned Phi Da. She also contacted Pok Nik’s nephews, his nearest blood relatives, who lived in Songkhla 100 kilometres away. Phi Da came immediately to the hospital. She was soon joined by Pok Ma’ Gu who had been a close friend of Pok Nik. Pok Ma’ Gu took it upon himself to persuade Phi Da and Nah to take the mayat to the majlih. Although feeling embarrassed at not being able to either wash the mayat or receive visitors in their house, Phi Da and Nah agreed. Pok Ma’ Gu left the hospital, and began making all the necessary arrangements: buying the burial cloth; finding the tok ime of the central mosque; and organising people to dig a grave at Kubor Tok Ayoh. After Pok Ma’ Gu left, Pok Nik’s nephews arrived from Songkhla. Phi Da (who has a notoriously sharp tongue) told them when they began crying, “What’s the use of making a fuss about poor old Pok Nik now! You should have cared about him when he was alive! At least you can be of some use to us now—take us to the majlih!” Nah and others explained that Phi Da’s belligerent attitude and toxic tongue were the main reasons that these nephews and others of Pok Nik’s relatives rarelyif evervisited him. Pok Nik’s nephews transported the mayat to the majlih where they assisted the ore mani mayat to wash the mayat. They also made a sedekoh towards the funeral expenses. Semaye mayat was performed at the central mosque and Pok Nik was buried in Kubor Tok Ayoh 1 hour before Norib. Nah and Phi Da returned home where they broke the fast with neighbours. Around this time people from the community brought sedekoh towards funeral expenses. With Pok Ma’ Gu’s help and funding from Pok Nik’s nephews, the majlih ensured the Qur’an would be read and ngatek and du’o made for Pok Nik. Phi Da explained, “We didn’t have any feasts in this house. Donations were made to the majlih. The majlih had lots in rice from people paying for the days that they missed from the previous fast month”. Nah explained: There were no feasts. At the central mosque, a small feast was held because it was Ramadan and money was given for people to break the fast. People were told that this money was given to make merit for Pok Nik who has died, so people prayed for him after they had eaten. There were other people who came. They gave me money—maybe 500 or 300 baht— so I would give this money to them saying, “Give this to the mosque and tell people to read for my father”.

Phi Da explained that she made merit for Pok Nik a number of ways. In addition to making sedekoh of small food items that Pok Nik especially liked, she also recited short surah of the Qur’an that she had memorised, as she could not read the Qur’an. She also remained inside for 40 days. During this time she watched no television and only left to buy food. While details about Pok Nik demonstrate how merit is made for Cabetigo’s poorest, Pok Wae’s funeral feast is representative of Cabetigo’s middle-class. Compared to Pok Nik, Pok Wae was wildly wealthy. This is demonstrated by the amount of

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money his family spent on their making merit initiatives. Although small contributions were made by some close relatives, Pok Wae’s children underwrote all these costs. Be Kuding’s funeral feast, that I provide more details on below, is located somewhere in-between. Pok Wae passed away in hospital after Pok Nik, at three o’clock in the morning. The mayat was brought home immediately after Suboh. Pok Wae was washed by his five sons, and prepared for burial while incense (PM. kemiye) was burnt. After semaye mayat at Masyid Rajo, the mayat was taken to the Kubor Tok Ayoh and buried. A time of silence followed, before the grave was filled in. Mats (PM. tikar) were placed on the cage used to carry the mayat to the kubor, and the tok ime and four tok leba sat on this to read the talqin, recite al-Fatihah, and Qulhuwallah.6 Following this, ngatek was offered, followed by a du’o, at the completion of which people began to return home. Being Ramadan, the first wa’ arwoh for Pok Wae was performed after taroweh. The fast month complicated the seven wa’ arwoh that would normally be held after a burial. The first and the seventh of these were held after taroweh, as this allowed food to be served. At these, the tok ime of Surau Rim Khlong officiated. Each feast began with a bismillah, before the tok ime led a range of chants that lasted approximately 10 minutes. After this, al-Fatihah and al-Ikhlas were recited. These were followed by the ngatek and a du’o. Ide (PM. sets, SM hidang) of rice and beef curry, cucumbers, noodle salad and dried salty fish dishes were brought out at the conclusion of these du’o. As is the custom, immediately after eating guests left without any formal leave-taking. At the completion of the feast, portions of the food were sent to those invited who were unable to attend. Pok Wae’s sons invited people to the seventh wa’ ngatek, something which highlights its importance. The other five wa’ arwoh were held after Asar at which there was no food provided on account of the fast month.7 After these seven initial wa’ arwoh, two more were held on the 40th and 100th days. Ka’ Moh confessed that she was unsure of how much money was spent on Be Kuding’s funeral feast as these details had been organised by her sister-in-law: I think the wa’ ngatek cost about 3,000 baht. But I had no money. I was able to pay this later though. People who performed semaye mayat did so without asking for any money. The tok ime of Masyid Rajo asked if I had any money, and I said “no”, so he called for donations.

Ka Moh undertook to prepare small inexpensive items like sarongs and biscuits for the people who read the talqin and performed ngatek at the graveside. People

6 The talqin refers to a graveside catechism giving instructions to the deceased concerning answering questions asked of him by the angels Munkar and Nakir. All Cabangtiga residents of traditionalist orientations read the talqin, while reformists reject this as bid’ah. For more on the talqin see Bowen’s discussion (1984, 1993) and that provided in Becker (2009). 7 Note that after the deterioration of the security situation in South Thailand, it was more common for wa’ arwoh to be held after asar, with most preferring not to go out at night. Holding these after Iso made it easier for more to come.

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attending the funeral feast also gave sedekoh towards expenses. Ka Moh added that the cost for the funeral feast held on the 40th day had been 500 baht and that Be Kuding’s chickens were slaughtered for this. These regimes of funeral feasts are controversial in Cabetigo. The ahl-sunnah, refer to them as bid’ah, while the so-called ahl-bid’ah accuse the ahl-sunnah of burying parents as they would their pets or farm animals. Traditionalists in Cabetigo, such as the following Thai Muslim woman, regarded the act of making merit for the dead to be a meritorious act: “If we tham bun for the deceased, both us and the deceased get merit—both sides! We have to niat bun for him or her when we raise our hands to du’o”. More importantly, attending a wa’ arwoh was viewed as a community obligation. Soon after returning from a wa’ arwoh, a 75-year-old Malay man explained: “The number of people attending a wa’ arwoh depends on whether that person attended the wa’ arwoh of others. If the person was someone who attended, then others will attend his, too”. Some traditionalist claimed that these funeral feasts prevented the grieving families from feeling lonely. According to one Malay woman: After we have buried our dead, we do tham bun because things are very quiet. We make merit because we might feel sad or lonely. Nothing much to it, really! Whenever we think of them, we do these things. The merit generated from feasts also looks after (PM. jago) those in the kubor.

Many asserted that compared to the merit made by others, the merit personally made by the deceased while on dunio had the biggest impact on their comfort in the grave. Some refer to a Muslim’s life being marked by habitual and incremental merit-making. On this issue I once received this explanation: When people are buried, Muslims pray, “If the person has sinned, forgive him. May he enter heaven!” However, relatives want to make merit for this person for the last time, saying to themselves, “This is the last merit-making event of their life!” It’s like they are sending of the spirit. Ah! What method should be used—this is the issue!

Many accepted that funeral feasts were less effective than merit made by anok soleh. One person explained, “We do these things [funeral feasts] in case (Th. puea wai) God has mercy”. Others were adamant that once dead—that no one can help the deceased—while some believed that Muslims may be able to contribute to the comfort of the dead in the grave. A Malay woman in her 30s opined: There is merit generated from these things, but we don’t know whether this merit will reach them or not. We want it to help. We ask Allah for it to reach them. We ask Him to help. However, whether it reaches or not, is something that Allah alone will decide.

Such uncertainty resembles Ka’ Moh hiring specialists to read the Qur’an for Be Kuding at a time when hope was more important to her than certainty. While some were convinced or hopeful of the effectiveness of funeral feasts, Be Him was adamant about their futility: There are different opinions about wa’ arwoh these days. Those from Brao don’t do these things. So, when there is a death in the family, people come to help. These people are tired for all the work they do for us. We need to feed them. They claim that there are enough

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troubles to deal with when there is a death—why increase them? There’s a lot of animosity around—like between Sunnis and Shiites elsewhere. This is despite being fellow Muslims.

What objections do reformists in Cabetigo raise about funeral feasts? Religious objections are based on the belief that when someone dies, one’s account book (Th. panchi) is closed: It’s like an exam. After you get into the exam room, no one else can help you. In the same way, no one else can make merit for you; everyone must face the consequences, or reap the benefits, of the things they have done on dunio. People here have thoughts and beliefs about making merit for the dead—but not me! According to the prophet, once you have died, there is no more opportunity to make merit for the dead. Merit-making is our responsibility while we are still alive.

Others cited the lack of hadithic sanction for practices perpetuated by the socalled ahl-bid’ah (Ar. innovators). One tok guru stated, “In the sunnah there is absolutely no precedent for merit-making for the dead in this way. These are worthless!” Another Malay man accused such feasts as exhibiting Hindu or Brahman influences: People here like making merit for their dead on the seventh, tenth and 40th days. But this is not Islam! This is a Hindu custom, because people here were Hindus before they converted to Islam 500 years ago. So they still like to make merit for their dead as Hindus do. It’s still around until this day. But in Islam, there is none of this!

This theme of Brahmanism was expanded upon by another reformist advocate who stated: These people use Brahmanistic ideas that have been made to look Islamic—but they are not! These now look like they are regulations or rules which must be practised. But these are actually a burden to people who do not have the means.

As well as a religious innovation, funeral feasts were also viewed as an economic burden. Like paying mourners to pray semaye mayat, and specialists to read the Qur’an, going into debt to pay for funeral feasts is frowned upon in Cabetigo. One Malay man pointed out that grieving families are already suffering. They do not need the additional stress of organising and financing feasts. He proposed that others should making merit for such families—not the other way around. Although conceding that funeral costs were sometimes entirely, or partially, financed through sedekoh he objected to the negotiations between grieving families and the specialists. In such negotiations, it was common to enquire about how religiously observant the deceased had been. This information was needed in order to know how long he or she should read for them. Visibly upset, one man I interviewed exclaimed, “It all comes down to money! The more reading or chanting, the more it will cost! It’s all business! Some persuade people to pay more so that more merit will be made”. Such negotiations were once mocked by friends in Cabetigo. Putting on a thick Pattani Malay accent, one friend assumed the role of the money-seeking tok babo making negotiations, saying, “If you give me 100 baht, the ngatek is long, but if you

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give 1,000 baht it will be even longer! Ah! Jago kubor! This is expensive! Three days might cost 10,000 baht. Seven days might be 20,000 baht!” In summary, some objections to funeral feasts—and other mortuary rituals— related to families paying others to do something that they are responsible for. Others are offended by the opportunism of some specialists, which occasionally resembles exploitation. Reformists who have entirely dispensed with funeral feasts speak of making compromises for the sake of community harmony. One stated, “We don’t agree with them. We make donations. We don’t accept money. We don’t blame or accuse them, although if asked I will tell them that I don’t think this is an Islamic practice”. Others, like a Malay woman in her 70s, attends wa’ arwoh, saying, “We don’t do wa’ arwoh in this house. We follow Brao. I go to them when I hear about them—no problems! Everyone is different (PM. masing-masing)”.

Mawlid Feasts Feasts commemorating the birth of the Prophet Muhammad are locally referred to as tham bun mawlid, ngaan mawlid (Th.), wa’ make mawlid, wa’ mawlid (PM.) or mawlid-al-nabi (Ar.).8 Although allegations of Brahman influences may be levelled against funeral feasts, Woodward describes mawlid as an element of essentialist Islam. Although not mandated in the universalist texts of Qur’an and hadith, it is nonetheless widely distributed throughout the Muslim world (1988, p. 87). Due to its lack of hadithic mandate, reformists in Cabetigo no longer celebrate mawlid. Some, however, occasionally partake in the food offered after the zanji has been read. One commented, “There’s no hadithic justification for this. They have just made it up from their own thoughts, saying, ‘Oh, this would be a good thing to do!’” Others, like the following Malay teacher in his 50s were less emotive, citing very matter-of-fact economic reasons for not observing mawlid: For me, the evidence is just not clear enough. I am not willing to spend money to make merit if I’m not confident that I am going to get anything back on my investment. These feasts are expensive! For me, I believe there are better ways in which to spend my money to make merit—like sedekoh jariyah.

Mawlid celebrations are most common in the middle of Rabi’ Al-Awwal, although these are held in this month and throughout that one that follows. Like all feasts, their size and expense range. Some are as small as two sittings (PM. ide). Others are funded by extended families who invite over 100 people. As already mentioned, the principal ritual elements of mawlid feasts are the reading of the barzanji (PM. zanji) and the chanting of the salawat. Lung Wae is a successful Thai Muslim immigrant from Nakhon Si Thammarat. He and his family held a tham bun mawlid in his house one day after Asar during the 8

For more on mawlid should refer to studies by Kaptein (1993b), Katz (2007), Schielke (2006), Schussman (1998), and Tapper and Tapper (1987).

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mawlid season of 2007. His front room was so full with people that mats needed to be hurriedly placed outside. Although only 30 had been invited, twice that number attended—something that complicated proceedings. The zanji was read by a tok guru called Haji Saman, who was helped by two members of his entourage. Haji Saman also led the salawat and du’o asking for Allah’s blessing and mercy on the prophet—as well as Lung Wae’s household. Following the final du’o, food was immediately served in sets (Th. chut, PM. ide). As his guests were eating, Lung Wae and his family distributed envelopes containing 20 baht to everyone who had attended. The unexpectedly large number of people meant that there were not enough envelopes. When I asked Lung Wae whether anyone refused his sedekoh, he said that none had. I was later told that some who accepted this envelope gave it to someone that they considered to be a more worthy recipient. Lung Wae also explained that, “If there had been any food left over, we would have made a sedekoh of this as well”. All except the most ardent reformists consider that mawlid feasts generate merit for their patrons (c.f. Tapper & Tapper, 1987, p. 83). While the main reasons given are that hosts freely provide their guests with a meritorious smorgasbord, additional merit is produced through the combined effects of reading the zanji and chanting salawat. Still more merit may come from the distribution of a donations. I asked Lung Wae about the operation of merit generated from mawlid. We want to make merit—that’s all. To ask for a blessing from Allah. We get merit from mawlid, just as we get merit from lamaat (Th.). In the past when we weren’t as well off, we didn’t hold as many feasts. These are not compulsory—like the haj. You could say that mawlid makes us additional (Th. songserm) merit. This is created when we remember Pramuhamad (sallallah alayi wasalam) when we salawat. Salawat is when we praise his goodness and ask Allah to bless him.

While Lung Wae referred to “additional merit”, others referred to mawlid as a sunnat way of making merit. The dynamic operation of merit at mawlid relates at a patron’s niat, which commonly included requests for blessing and avoiding misfortune (Th. chork rai, PM. balo, keroh). Lung Wae explains: Everyone has been allotted a certain amount of luck (Th. chork) that we are able to increase. If we are a good person and lamaat (Th.), our bad luck will be decreased, so that if we have an accident, we will not die—only be injured. Our income might also increase if we make lots of merit. So merit blesses us in dunio as well as helping us in akhirat.

Like performing semaye hajat in a house, Pok Ma’ Gu claimed that mawlid feasts also increased a house’s semangat, making it moist—not dry (PM. kering). A Malay friend, Be Nuh, cited that by patronising a mawlid feast, “People feel happy and safe. We also feel that bad luck and other bad things are expelled”. He explained that this related to the du’o. “At a mawlid feast, a tok ime or tok guru comes to pray that everyone in the house will be happy (Th. sabai jai), successful (Th. mi khwansamret) and safe (PM. selama’)”. Another Malay man in his 60s aimed to hold a mawlid feast every year so as to secure happiness in his household:

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It makes people in the house at peace (PM. sene hati) and safe (PM. selama’). If we don’t hold a feast, this usually won’t be the case. The pahalo we make benefits us in the present (PM. dunio) and the hereafter (PM. akhirat). But we have to invite the poor! If we do this, the house is at peace.

House-Warming Feasts Funeral feasts are organised on certain days following a death and mawlid feasts are held for 2 months starting from Rabi’ al-awwal. House-warmings (Th. kuen baan mai, PM. naik rumoh baru) are one of the first things the happen after shifting into a new house. There are a number of important similarities between mawlid feasts, house-warmings, and some of the general tham bun feasts described below: all these are primarily concerned with the needs of household members.9 Some house-warmings are over in less than an hour. Others occupy an entire day. The principal ritual constituent of house-warming feasts is semaye hajat. Indeed, some smaller house-warmings resemble the semaye hajat followed by light refreshments that has been described in the previous chapter. Nevertheless these are referred to as semaye hajat—not kuen baan mai (Th.) or naik rumoh baru (PM.). The size of the meal provided to those who have prayed semaye hajat is also less than at these house-warmings. House-warmings in Cabetigo typically commence at the completion of Sohur, or Asar. The owner of the house invites people at the mosque or surau he most often attends. The tok ime typically reminds people about this after prayers have been completed. House-warmings commence with semaye hajat and du’o. Both of these are followed by food. Like all feasts, this is served in sets. Especially in the all-day house-warming feasts that are described below, simpler dishes such as chicken and rice (PM. nasi minyo’ or Th. khaw mok) or Chinese noodles (PM. laso, or Th. khanom cin) are often served. As with all feasts, when people have finished eating they immediately leave—in what sometimes appears to be an unceremonial fashion. To permit as many people to attend as possible, all-day house-warmings are held on Fridays or weekends. Although these commence with semaye hajat and a du’o, prayer mats remain in a corner of the front room where those who arrive latter may also pray. Guests who do not pray are feed as soon as they arrive. Those who choose to pray semaye hajat are fed immediately after they have finished. At all-day house-warmings, small presents might also be given. Guests stay a lot longer and non-Muslims are also invited. As with most feasts, portions of the food are distributed to those unable to attend.

9

Janet Carsten (1995, 1997, pp. 35–130), Rosemary Firth (1966) and Heather Strange (1981, pp. 30–42) have all drawn attention to the importance of the house in the Malay-Indonesian world.

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General Tham Bun Feasts The fourth merit-making feasting complex present in Cabetigo is referred to as either tham bun, wa’ make, or (more elegantly) wa’ wajike. Although these most closely resemble house-warmings, they are distinct in the following respects. While occasionally held to generate and transfer merit to the deceased, tham bun feasts are not held on specific occasions after a death. Unlike either mawlid or housewarming feasts, these may be held at anytime. Apart from the non-negotiable merit-generation smorgasbord, the form and purpose of these feasts vary greatly. In this section I describe a general tham bun feast held by patrons wishing of give thanks to Allah and seek His blessing, protection, an/or deliverance. Although celebratory feasts are referred to as syukur in Malaysia (Kling, 1997, p. 76), this term is entire absent in Cabetigo. Some tham bun feasts celebrate significant events and resemble make pulot that are not included in this study. Circumcisions (PM. masuk jawi, Th. khaw sunnat) are occasionally celebrated with a feast. The Sunday morning a Malay friend’s son was circumcised, he invited me to his wa’ make. I was told, “Hey! We are having a small feast after the circumcision. Come over (Kito wa’ make sikit-sikit! Mari make dih)”. I was told a specific time to come (eleven o’clock in the morning). When I arrived, I was fed khaw mok (Th., PM. nasi minyo’) followed by a cup of tea. The newly circumcised boy was laying on his back in the back room wearing a sarong with a piece of string tied to the stairs to avoid the sarong touching the fresh wound. The atmosphere was very informal. Although sitting separately, both men and women attended. There was no chanting, prayers, or reading of any sort, even before I arrived. Just before Sohur, the guests began to leave. Such celebratory tham bun feasts also follow the aqiqoh for new-born babies that is held 7 days after a birth. Feasts for new arrivals were occasionally held on a weekend nearest this seventh day which more would be able to attend. Unlike the feast described above, an aqiqoh begins with a tok ime cutting the baby’s hair and formally giving the child’s name, followed by a short prayer. This ceremony is most commonly attended only by immediate family, with other guests arriving continuously throughout the day to enjoy the large quantity of goat curry. Such a feast is often advertised by the front door being left open and the front room being entirely covered with mats. News of a wa’ make—which everyone is welcome to attend—may also be disseminated at the coffee shops, the surau and at mosques. Although people may come anytime during the day until Norib, many men attend after Sohur and Asar. As such, these times are avoided by women. The patron of one such feast informed me that any individuals known to have unresolved conflicts (Th. rueang, PM. puku) are commonly invited to attend at different times. Such feasts conclude after Norib, when portions of curry are bagged and sent to those invited but unable to attend. As with house-warmings, non-Muslim sometimes also attend such feasts. Celebratory feasts may be held for a number of reasons, such as the completion of a child’s first reading through of the entire Qur’an (PM. khatan). I attended such a feast commemorating this achievement by the 11-year -old grandchild of a Thai

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Muslim neighbour. Held at the maternal grandfather’s house, the two families shared the merit because the girl’s parents and grandparents shared the cost of the feast. This feast (referred to simply as a tham bun) began after Asar. The guests consisted exclusively of men from Surau Rim Khlong. The feast began with the former tok ime of the Surau Rim Khlong testing the 11-year-old girl by asking her to recite sections of the Qur’an. He then led a short chant, offered a du’o, after which all the guests began eating the food. In a conversation with the girl’s grandfather, he explained, “She had finished her studies and we were very proud of her and thought we’d make merit. That’s all”. When I pressed for clarity on his purpose, he elaborated that he wanted to celebrate, adding, “This is common, when we finish something”. When I asked how people referred to such a feast, he answered, “A celebration (Th. kaanchalong)—that’s all. Tham bun! Like that!” Some tham bun or wa’ make are held to seek blessing, protection or deliverance. These closely resemble the performance of semaye hajat and the feasts for departing pilgrims that are described in the following chapter. Feasts are occasionally held with a general or undisclosed niat. One informant explained: People sometimes won’t make these things explicit, or they will have more than one niat for holding a feast. So many things: giving thanks; asking for blessing (PM. mito’ reski hala): ridding the house of bad luck (PM. belepas balo); asking for happiness (Th. kho hai tuk khon me khwansuk).

A feast organised with the niat of seeking protection was held by a Malay neighbour before his son left for his 2 years of military service. His father related it in the following manner: Just before Loh began his military service, we had a feast. It was a big one! We prepared 20 kilograms of noodles (PM. laso, SM laksa, Th. khanum cin). We wanted to pray for his safety while he was in the army. Heaps of people came, and after we thought that no more people would come to eat we sent the kids off into the community with bags of laso.

Similar feasts are occasionally held before children leave home for university. Although often commencing with semaye hajat, what distinguishes these are the large number of people that are invited, requiring a considerable investment of time and money. These were also held on weekends. Similar to housewarmings, most attend after Sohur and Asar, and the feast will go all day until Norib. My wealthy Malay friend Be Nuh, who has worked overseas for many years, described holding a wa’ make or a tham bun feast after many in his household had been experiencing a number of problems. They had suffered constant sickness, frequent burglaries or objects were constantly getting lost. Somewhat self-consciously he commented, “Perhaps we are superstitious! It’s a local tradition”. One of my wife’s friends once discovered ants in her Qur’an, which she interpreted as a bad sign. She took the Qur’an to a tok guru who read the surah in which the ants were found, explaining that it addressed the issue of veiling. This woman then wore the black niqab for a week, and held a small feast to belepas balo on Friday. After a week, she dispensed with the niqab.

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Some respondents, like the following Malay woman, related holding small feasts if the house seemed dry and lifeless. She commented, “Sometimes we realize it’s been months since we made merit. It’s as if the house is dry and lifeless! As soon as we make merit, good things begin to happen: people bring food or others riski”. A retired Malay man made a similar point. “Feeding people is really important for folk here. It’s a local custom. We are happy when we feed people. The more they eat, the happier they are, the more merit we get. This is what I believe”. Another commented, “Feasts are a way of making merit. It makes us happy and will receive merit when people are feed”. Other feasts are held in response to calamities (PM. balo) or bad luck (PM. keroh, Th, chork rai). These also typically commence with semaye hajat. The Qur’an is read by the person officiating, who also leads a range of chants, and a du’o for the host. Unlike other feasts, those patronised with this niat lack the festive atmosphere. They are also shorter, and invite the poor. I once attended a feast organised by a person who had recently experienced financial disaster. Although not there at its commencement, I was informed that a tok ime had begun by reciting the Qur’an. I arrived after there had been 10 minutes of ngatek, and as people were offering a number of du’o, between which everyone uttered the amin and wiped their face. Upon the completion of the final du’o, the food prepared from the slaughtered goat was brought out on trays. People sat around them, and eagerly began eating the goat curry. Reasons for holding such a feast were sometimes not disclosed. Those enquiring might be told, “Oh I just want to make merit”. Not stating one’s niat sometimes encourages speculation. A feast patronised by someone rumoured to have been involved in some misconduct was assumed to be part of his repentance (PM. tobat). I once asked a Malay man in an interview about whether merit expels a calamity (PM. balo). He explained, “Well, this happens. Sometimes people have a string of bad luck. So they make merit and ask Allah that this will pass”. Some, such as the follow respondent, rejected such responses to misfortune: Islam has no specific teaching on these issues. When we have bad things happening to us, we have to pray semaye hajat, semaye tahajud, and make du’o. Ask Allah! Making merit won’t help! But if we make special semaye and du’o—these are good things to do. Others might do other things, like make sedekoh to the poor. It’s up to them.

Conclusion How are the acts of charity that I have described in this chapter distinct from other discrete merit-making elements dealt with in the previous chapter? Not only do these require neither religious education nor discipline, but they are also entirely voluntary. As a result, the issue of fulfilling obligations to Allah has been entirely absent in this chapter. Sedekoh also differs from fardu prayers in that it may be performed anytime— although doing so at certain times yields more merit. Most of the forms of sedekoh described may only be performed by Muslims with adequate disposable income.

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Those using money must do so with ikhalah and only halal funds may be used. Finally, assertions about the importance of charity to the poor, widows, and orphans demonstrate the importance of social justice in Islamic piety. The form that sedekoh takes in Cabetigo is affected by a Muslim’s occupation, status, gender and level of disposable income. There are, however, a number of similarities between these three discrete meritmaking elements. Forms of sedekoh requiring no money are as accessible to the poor as semaye and Qur’anic readings and recitations. Praying or reading the Qur’an without concentrating or in a boastful manner is frowned on by Cabetigo residents. More than any other merit-generating performance, sedekoh is scrutinised for its sincerity (PM. ikhalah). Because many equate ikhalah with anonymity, sedekoh is most dissimilar to the highly public performances of fardu prayers. Ritual specialists (such as tok guru and tok babo) frequently hired to read the Qur’an for the deceased, are also involved in some performances of sedekoh, such as when Qur’anic verses and Arabic du’o are recited over it to bolster their potency. This is the first of a number of connections between merit-making through Qur’anic readings and recitations and sedekoh. Payments to ritual specialists sometimes take the form of sedekoh of cash or consumables. No consensus exists in Cabetigo on the rationale for Muslims bringing a sedekoh of rice to tok guru or tok babo who recite the Qur’an and an Arabic prayer. Is this sedekoh a form of payment for his service? Is the potency of the sedekoh increased by the Qur’an’s sacred words being uttered over it? Does the merit that is produced by such potent sedekoh lubricate the prayers for the living or the dead that are offered? My inclusion of these feasting complexes both complicates and enriches my portrait of merit-generation in Cabetigo. Unlike extant explanations of Muslim merit-making in Thailand that were simultaneously obsessed with tham bun feasts and almost completely neglectful of the role of ama ‘ibadat in merit-generation, merit-making feasts are but one element of my description Muslim merit-generation in Cabetigo. The size of the treatment of these feasting complexes is in proportion to their relative importance in the economy of merit in Cabetigo. Although these locally occurring ritual complexes perform a number of important functions, the primary means through which Muslims in Cabetigo accumulate merit for themselves is through Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire that I refer to as ama ‘ibadat. There are a number of similarities between sedekoh and feasting complexes with respect to how bun or pahalo is generated and how it assists the living and the dead. The first—and most important—is that sedekoh is the only constant and most important ritual element in the feasting complexes I have described. A second is that in order for merit to be generated through either sedekoh or feasts, the money that is used must have been obtained through halal funds—everything must also be done with ikhalah. Thirdly, in feasting complexes the sedekoh of a meritorious smorgasbord is augmented by a range of merit-generating ritual performances such as the reading and reciting of the Qur’an and a range of chants. Immediately after these a du’o for the living or the dead are offered before the meal is provided. As a range of positions exist on the relationship between reading an ayat of the Qur’an over a sedekoh,

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and offering a du’o for the living or the dead, there is no consensus on how these elements function in merit-making feasts. Do readings, recitals and chants generate extra merit that increases the efficacy of the du’o offered on behalf of the patron? Does the sedekoh of a smorgasbord represent a form of payment to the merit-makers as Telle (2000, 2007) has argued? The merit-making feasts in Cabetigo that I have described consist of a range of ritual elements which are configured in a variety of ways. Some feasts were held at specific times and performed various functions, while others were performed at anytime for a range of reasons. Although those patronising a feast receive merit, many of these feasting complexes either generate merit to assist the living in dunio or the deceased in the grave. In other words, while tham bun feasts produce merit, personal preparations for akhirat are only rarely a patron’s primarily motivation. Like all forms of merit-generation, the niat with which it is performed and du’o that accompanies it both determine who in dunio or the grave benefit. Unlike fardu prayers, the fast of Ramadan and the haj (for those able to afford it), neither sedekoh nor tham bun feasts play important roles in how Muslims in Cabetigo prepare for akhirat as neither of these are ritual obligations. The principal similarity been these feasts and the holy month of Ramadan and pilgrimages to Mecca (that are dealt with in the following chapter) are that these are merit-making complexes in which merit is generated in a number of ways.

References Becker, F. (2009). Islamic reform and historical change in the care of the dead: Conflicts over funerary practice among Tanzanian Muslims. Africa: The Journal of the International African Institute, 79(3), 416–434. Bowen, J. R. (1984). Death and the history of Islam in highland Aceh. Indonesia, 38(October), 21–38. Bowen, J. R. (1993). Muslims through discourse: Religion and ritual in Gayo society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Bowen, J. R. (1995). Popular religion in Southeast Asia. In J. L. Esposito (Ed.), Oxford encyclopaedia of the modern Islamic world (pp. 250–254). New York: Oxford University Press. Carsten, J. (1995). The politics of forgetting: Migration, kinship and memory on the periphery of the Southeast Asian State. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 1, 317–335. Carsten, J. (1997). The heat of the hearth: The process of kinship in a Malay fishing community. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cuisner, J. (1963). Danses Magiques de Kelantan. New Haven, CT: Human Relations Area Files. Firth, R. (1966). Housekeeping among Malay peasants. London: Athlone Press. Gade, A. M. (2002). Taste, talent, and the problem of internalization: A Qur’anic study in religious musicality from Southeast Asia. History of Religions, 41(4), 328–368. Gibson, T. (2000). Islam and the spirit cults in new order Indonesia: Global flows vs. local knowledge. Indonesia, 69(April), 41–70. Kaptein, N. (1993a). The Berdiri Mawlid issue among Indonesian Muslims in the period from circa 1875 to 1930. Bijdragen tot de Taal-Land- en Volkenkunde, 149(1), 124–153. Kaptein, N. (1993b). Muhammad’s birthday festival: Early history in the Central Muslim lands and development in the Muslim West until the 10th/16th century. Leiden: Brill. Katz, M. H. (2007). The birth of the Prophet Muh.ammad: Devotional piety in Sunni Islam. London: Routledge.

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Kling, Z. (1997). Social structure: The practices of Malay religiosity. In M. Taib Osman (Ed.), Islamic civilization in the Malay world (pp. 49–82). Kuala Lumpur: Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka. McCargo, D. J. (2008). Tearing apart the land: Islam and legitimacy in Southern Thailand. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Millie, J. (2008). Supplicating, naming, offering: Tawassul in West Java. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 39, 107–122. Muhaimin, A. G. (2006). The Islamic traditions of Cirebon: Ibadat and Adat among Javanese Muslims. Canberra: Australian National University E Press. Parkin, D. J. (1994). Sadaka: Focus of contradictory continuity. In D. Parkin (Ed.), Continuity and autonomy in Swahili communities inland influences and strategies of self-determination (pp. 177–189). Vienna: Institut fuer Afrikanistik und Aegyptologie. Parkin, D. J. (2000a). Inside and outside the Mosque: A master trope. In S. C. Headley & D. J. Parkin (Eds.), Islamic prayer across the Indian Ocean: Inside and outside the Mosque (pp. 1–22). Richmond, VA: Curzon Press. Parkin, D. J. (2000b). Invocation: Salaa, dua, sadaka and the question of self-determination. In S. C. Headley & D. J. Parkin (Eds.), Islamic prayer across the Indian Ocean: Inside and outside the Mosque (pp. 137–168). Richmond, VA: Curzon Press. Prapartchob, A.-S. P. (1991). Mobilization of resources through Waqf in Thailand. In M. Ariff (Ed.), The Islamic voluntary sector in Southeast Asia (pp. 233–258). Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Schielke, S. (2006). Snacks and saints: Mawlid festivals and the politics of festivity, piety and modernity in contemporary Egypt. Leiden: ISIM. Schussman, A. (1998). The legitimacy and nature of Mawid al-Nabi: (Analysis of a Fatwa). Islamic Law and Society, 5(2), 214–234. Scupin, R. (1978). Thai Muslims in Bangkok: Islam and modernization in a Buddhist society. Ph.D. Thesis, University of California, Santa Barbara. Strange, H. (1981). Rural Malay women in tradition and transition. New York: Praeger. Tapper, N., & Tapper, R. (1987). The birth of the Prophet: Ritual and gender in Turkish Islam. Man, 22(1), 69–92. Telle, K. G. (2000). Feeding the dead: Reformulating Sasak mortuary practices. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, 156(4), 771–805. Telle, K. G. (2007). Nurturance and the spectre of Neglect: Sasak ways of dealing with the Dead. In M. Janowski & F. Kerlogue (Eds.), Kinship and food in Southeast Asia (pp. 121–148). Copenhagen: NIAS Press. Tschacher, T. (2009). Rational miracles, Cultural rituals and the fear of syncretism: Defending contentious Muslim practice among Tamil-speaking Muslims. Asian Journal of Social Science, 37(1), 55–82. Woodward, M. R. (1988). The Slametan: Textual knowledge and ritual performance in Central Javanese Islam. History of Religions, 28(1), 54–89.

Chapter 7

Ramadan Scales and Meccan Multiplications

Abstract This chapter describes merit-generation through the fasts and pilgrimages to Mecca. Although supererogatory fasts are included in the first half of this chapter, I am more specifically concerned with the practice of Ramadan in Cabetigo. Like merit-making feasts, Ramadan is referred to as a merit-making complex. Merit is generated during Ramadan through more than its wajib abstinences that fulfill a ritual obligation. Rather, all discrete merit-making elements performed during this holy month are rewarded according to the Ramadan scale of merit. Although the focus of Ramadan is the personal accumulation of merit, over the festival of Hari Rayo that celebrates its completion merit is made for the deceased. This chapter’s second half describes Muslims in Cabetigo making merit through the wajib haj and sunnat umroh. After describing all preparations for the haj in Cabetigo and performances in Mecca, reasons for Muslims referring to the haj as the most important merit-making event of a lifetime are explained. The 5-day haj both fulfills the fifth pillar of Islam and all meritorious deeds are more generously rewarded when performed in Mecca. Anok soleh and tok seh also make merit for the dead through their repetitions of the haj. Finally, merit-generation through the lesser pilgrimage (Ar. umroh) is described. Those performing umroh during Ramadan benefit from both the Ramadan scale of merit and Mecca’s multiplications of merit.

Introduction This is the third and final chapter dealing with merit-generating rituals. In this chapter two merit-making complexes that produce enormous amounts of merit through discrete merit-making elements performed during important times and significant places are considered. This chapter begins with a description of the multiple rewards of the wajib fast of Ramadan. My focus below is on the range of rituals performed during Ramadan over its wajib abstinences. As is well known, the most important of these are the avoidance of all food and liquid between just after four o’clock in the morning until after six o’clock in the evening. The reasons for the meritoriousness of Ramadan are addressed. I show that while Ramadan’s wajib abstinences fulfill one of the pillars of Islam (PM. Rukon Islam), all meritorious deeds in Ramadan are also more generously rewarded. Also included are details about how Cabetigo’s Muslim residents make merit for the dead on Hari Rayo. Finally, I briefly describe C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_7,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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supererogatory fasts (PM poso sunnat) which some in Cabetigo also perform. The most important poso sunnat occurs during the first week of Shawwal after the first day of Hari Rayo celebration that completes this annual season of religious exertion. The second half of this chapter is concerned with two pilgrimages to Islam’s most sacred places: the wajib haj and sunnat umroh. Like all merit-making complexes, pilgrims to Mecca receive enormous amounts of merit from the discrete merit-making elements that are performed there. It is shown how merit is rewarded in Islam’s sacred centre and resembles the Ramadan scale of merit.1 Details of the preparations involved in making the haj are itemised. These include: obtaining the necessary funds, receiving a call (PM. seru), finding a haj guide, attending pre-haj training, resolving conflicts and asking forgiveness. Following a short account of the haj, its rewards are considered, although with a particular focus on the bun or pahalo which pilgrims receive. I discuss repetitions of the haj, and the role that these play in making merit for the deceased. I conclude by discussing the production of merit through the supererogatory lesser pilgrimage (PM. umroh). As the fasts and pilgrimages described below include those that are wajib and sunnat, this chapter resembles my discussion of salat. As with fardu prayers, the primary importance of Ramadan’s wajib abstinences and the haj are that through them Muslims fulfill Islam’s wajib ritual requirements. The cost of the haj makes it the most difficult pillar of Islam for Cabetigo’s Muslim residents to fulfill. Just as supererogatory prayers (PM. semaye sunnat) complement fardu prayers, so supererogatory fasts (PM. poso sunnat) and the sunnat lesser pilgrimage to Mecca (PM. umroh) complement Ramadan wajib abstinences and the haj. Both the haj and umroh are performed in Islam’s sacred centre.

The Performance of Ramadan and Its Multiple Rewards The month of Sha’aban is dominated by preparations for Ramadan. Those yet to complete the wajib fast of the previous year must either do so before the 15th of Sha’aban (Nisfu Sha’aban), or pay paya de.2 The arrival of Nisfu Sha’aban is announced by local mosques. While some perform a voluntary fast on Nisfu Sha’aban, others do so over the first half of Sha’aban, before relaxing before Ramadan begins. During Sha’aban, many houses are not only cleaned, but an inventory of kitchen equipment is undertaken in preparation for the approaching month of feasting and fasting. Sha’aban is also a month of intense economic activity for those in Cabetigo who make their living from selling food and beverages. Although Ramadan is a month 1 For treatments of the haj in the Malay world refer to Matheson and Milner (1984), McDonnell (1986) and Syed Mhd. Khairudin (2004). 2 Paya de was once explained to me in the following words by an informant who said: “We have to buy a litre of rice for every day of the compulsory fasting month that we have missed. We have to do this before the commencement of next year’s fast month. We can do this instead of fasting these extra six days. There are others, although I can’t remember the details at the moment”.

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of fasting, 30 days of nocturnal feasts are followed by the celebration of Hari Rayo. In addition to saving money during and before Ramadan’s to pay for all this, some also prepare by fasting during Sha’aban. While some fast for merit, others do so to make the first week of fasting less strenuous, as Hassanah explained: Some fast the entire month of Sha’aban, others a few days from the middle of the month. If you fast, then fine! Just keep fasting. Some do 2-3 days—that’s also OK. Some fast one day, then after two or three days fast again. It’s up to you. It’s sunnat—not wajib.

As is well known, the fast of Ramadan is wajib for all healthy, sane, adult Muslims. From before dawn until dusk all are required to abstain from eating, drinking and sexual activity. Those who are travelling, sick, pregnant or breast-feeding are exempted from fasting, and women who are menstruating or hemorrhaging after childbirth are forbidden to fast. In addition to these abstinences, there are inner dimensions to the fasts, which a Malay woman explained: You also have to control your body, mind and eyes. If you can do these things, then you will get a big reward (PM. pahalo besar) and things will be balanced. We mustn’t speak badly about people—gossiping or cursing. If we want to get merit, we have to do the full fast—our ears, our eyes, our heart, and our mouth. We must stay inside and sleep. We must stay away from worldly things, reading al-kure, and doing tasbih.

Although many in Cabetigo insisted that everyone must continue to work as they would in other months, daily routines and rhythms dramatically change during Ramadan. Ore meneko sell less, and at different times. People commonly spend Ramadan with relatives living elsewhere, especially in recent years while Ramadan has coincided with the October Thai school holidays. Although some work while fasting, many fund this month from their savings. Those with no savings anticipate riski (PM. monetary or material blessings) which come in the form of sedekoh or zakat fitrah given at the end of the month. Indeed, the poor depend on these to meet the expenses of Ramadan and to celebrate Hari Rayo. Like the haj, Ramadan brings into focus the importance of the ummah, as this excerpt from my field notes demonstrates3 : Being the first week of Ramadan I heard a number of homilies on the importance of the fast for eliminating distinctions in the ummah. Somewhat cheekily, I asked a builder friend of mine, “Are you planning to work during the bule (SM. bulan) poso?” In his reply he was emphatic about the importance of doing so, “otherwise, we will not be able to feel what the poor feel when they have to do heavy work without enough rice in their stomachs to do it”. Another person I talked with pointed to the teak mansion in Cabetigo recently built by a former senator saying, “Despite being rich, in the holy month of Ramadan, he feels the same as me!”4

3 This is one of Marjo Buitelaar (1993) main arguments (1993) from one of the few studies of Ramadan undertaken by an anthropologist. See also Antoun (1968), Hellman (2008), Möller (2005a; 2005b) and Schielke (2009). 4 Field notes November 15, 2006.

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In Cabetigo, the arrival of Ramadan is much anticipated and zealously observed. Parents of children as young as 8 years old proudly recounted that their children had undertaken the fast for the first time. While not required to do so, pregnant and breast-feeding mothers also fasted. Some were motivated by the belief that this would be greatly rewarded. Many frail elderly members of the community disregarded their immunity, and attempted to fast as many of the days as they could. During the holy month of Ramadan, the audible presence of mosques in Cabetigo increases. Broadcasts of Qur’anic readings at three-thirty in the morning. These prompt the faithful to prepare and consume their pre-dawn meal (Ar. suhoor) before the be for Suboh. Like all ritual performances, the efficacy of Ramadan requires a niat. Some make this niat after taroweh prayers following Iso on the first evening of Ramadan. Others do so on the evening before the first full day of fasting. Alternatively, a niat may be made before Suboh every morning. Ramadan is divided into three parts. The first 10 days are concerned with the rahmat (Ar. mercy) of Allah and requests for riski. The second 10 days focus on forgiveness. During these middle 10 days, people repent (PM. toba’) for bad deeds committed during the previous year. One informant explained the importance of forgiveness in Ramadan in the following words: So, if you want to get things more into balance—because you have done wrong for the whole year—you have to be very strong in Ramadan, doing many practices like reading the Qur’an, giving zakat and sedekoh. You also have to control your body, mind and eyes. If you can do these things, then you will get a big pahalo and things will be balanced. The Prophet said, for those who follow the fast of Ramadan, all the sins that they have committed in the previous year will be washed away. This is what was said by God.

The last 10 days are concerned with rewards in heaven. Ramadan is undeniably the holiest month of the year, but some days in Ramadan are holier than others. While some consider that the 15th day of Ramadan is especially significant, all agree on the importance of the last 10 days that are referred to as i’tikaf (Ar. retreat). During i’tikaf, many Muslims in Cabetigo spent the nights in a local mosque where extra du’o, readings of the Qur’an and semaye are performed. These intense religious activities are intended to coincide with the night of power (Ar. lailatul adr). The night of power is referred to by Thai-speaking Muslims as “the most excellent night” (Th. kuen prasert). Islamic tradition claims that lailatul adr was the night on which Muhammad received the first revelation of the Qur’an. While some claim that the kuen prasert may occur on any one of the last 10 nights, others insist on the 27th night of Ramadan. Regardless of when kuen prasert occurs, the semaye and Qur’anic recitations that are performed then are rewarded with merit many times the normal amount (although there is disagreement on the exact amount). Some fathers bring with them children as young as two. Friends who took their two 8-year-old sons related: I doubt they got any sleep. As soon as one settled down, another friend would come over and invite them to go somewhere. Although they are not yet religiously aware, it is good that they are exposed to i’tikaf. It is certainly better than them running around the neighbourhood setting off firecrackers and getting into trouble.

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An informant with strong reformist sympathies commented on i’tikaf: This is when we stay in the mosque, reading the Qur’an, praying and drawing closer to God. We think about what we have done over the previous 11 months. Sometimes we have to ask for forgiveness. This practice of i’tikaf has only recently been introduced here by Dr Ishmael Lufti—but it is spreading. I have been told that over the last 10 days of Ramadan in Mecca there’s nowhere to stay! Those of us, who study and follow the hadith and Qur’an also do this (i’tikaf). Some people just fast and some talk about the coming of Ramadan like, “Oh. It’s that time of year, again!” Those of us with knowledge are very pleased to welcome it again, and when it’s over people are sad.

Another related that he wanted to be in the mosque over i’tikaf so as to be there on the most excellent night. He explained: On this night, we will receive 84 years of bun. This is something everyone seeks. If we do, then we will be safe and happy in the world to come. We do something for one night and the reward is the equivalent of 84 years! If we are at home with my wife and children doing whatever, then we won’t get it. This night might be on the 21st , 23rd , 25th , or 27th —we don’t know. But you must be at the mosque on the 27th to make du’o. We don’t have to pray for many things. We might just pray that our sins will be forgiven and that we will have health and happiness. We’ll do this when we lamaat—when we sujud. Alternatively, we might raise our hands. Just a short thing is asked for: that we are forgiven. That’s all! If this is granted, Oh! This means that we’ll go to heaven!

Yet another summarised his beliefs of the last 10 days of Ramadan in the following way: The last 10 days focus on our reward in heaven. Those who have knowledge don’t sleep! They have to pray as much as possible. Why? Because we don’t know whether we will be alive for the next Ramadan! So, this is the golden time. It’s as if there is a big sale on at a department store. These are all stated in the hadith and Qur’an. Some people will recite the entire Qur’an during the month of Ramadan. They’ll make donations to the poor. If you look in my car, you’ll see a whole pile of dates which are there for me to give out. I want to do this as much as possible. In the past, I only fasted because I was ashamed if I didn’t. I didn’t do it with iman. In the last 10 days, I’ll be in the mosque.

These last 10 days of Ramadan are also busy, as relatives begin to arrive before Hari Rayo. Zakat fitroh (Ar. zakat fitrah) is also made during these 10 days. Like the annual zakat, korbe on Hari Rayo Haji, and the haj, zakat fitroh is wajib for those who can to afford it. Zakat fitroh consists of three kilograms of rice for every person in the household. For practical purposes some prefer to pay its monetary equivalent to either the Pattani Provincial Islamic Council, at a registered mosque, or personally to individual poor personally known to the individual. While zakat fitroh must be paid before the be for semaye Juma’at on Hari Rayo, another reason for paying during the final days of Ramadan is that many in Cabetigo depend on this to pay for Hari Rayo celebrations. This also increases the sense of ummah which, as I have already noted, is an important feature of Ramadan. The following extract from my field notes describes the payment of zakat fitroh by a friend of Ased to one of his sisters-in-law: While at Ased’s house two days before Hari Rayo, Cik Daud came with four bags of uncooked rice. Upon his arrival, Ased excused himself, returning 10 minutes later with this sister-in-law, Ka’ Ya. Cik Daud (who I have never heard speak Malay) explained rather

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clumsily in Malay his intention to pay the zakat fitroh for Allah ta’ala. Sitting on the floor opposite Ka’ Ya, Cik Daud passed the bags of rice to her four times, each time saying the name of the member of the family that he was paying for. Ka’ Moh repeated the name of each person mentioned, after which the four bags were left in front of her. In addition to these bags of rice, Cik Daud also gave an envelope with money in it.5

However important the fulfillment of a wajib pillar might be, these comments about i’tikaf are specific examples of the dramatic changes in how all meritorious deeds are rewarded during Ramadan. Andre Möller refers to this as the Ramadan scale of merit (2005a, p. 41). For this reason, Muslims in Cabetigo refer to Ramadan as the most excellent month (Th. duen prasert or duen di lert) or golden time of the year. During Ramadan all fardu and sunnat prayers, Qur’anic readings and recitations, sedekoh and acts of kindness are more generously rewarded. Sinful deeds are also punished more severely during Ramadan. Islamic tradition claims that Satan (PM. Shetan) and all Jinn are chained throughout this holy month. As an informant explained, “When we commit a sin in Ramadan, we can no longer blame the devil”. The continuation of shootings and bombings in South Thailand during Ramadan led some to believe that those who committed these acts were either thoroughly bad (unconcerned as they are about their even weightier punishments) or convinced that their actions were meritorious (for which they would be even better rewarded in Ramadan). Many who only occasionally publicly perform fardu prayers in a one of Cabetigo’s mosques or prayer rooms regularly do so during Ramadan. Such people view Ramadan as a gracious provision: When we fast, we get lots of merit. The most meritorious type of fasting is that which we do in the month of Ramadan. There aren’t any other types of fasting that can compete with these. Fasting, then inviting the poor to break the fast with you, giving food away in the month of Ramadan—this is so meritorious!

A Malay man I interviewed explained his beliefs that Ramadan was a very special month: If we do good in Ramadan, we believe Allah will accept what we do 100%. This is the biggest month of the year for Muslims. When we do good, there is lots of merit given, like reading the Qur’an. We don’t work, but stay at home, stay inside. We keep away from the world, we sleep, avoid sinning. Then at night we’re at the mosque.

When I asked a Malay man in his 80 s about the significance of Ramadan I was told: Oh, there is lot of merit to be made in Ramadan, but it depends on how much we invest in the fasting month. Do we go to the mosque? Do we fast as we should? Do we pray as much as we should—the five waktu? Do we perform sunnat prayers? Do we read the Kure lots? If we do all these we’ll get lots of merit. Out of all the months of the year, Ramadan is the biggest by far. Any ama done in this month will be multiplied. You will get multiple rewards.

5

Field notes November 22, 2006.

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Although all insisted that rewards are amplified during Ramadan, there was no consensus on the details of the Ramadan scale of merit. One informant asserted, “In Ramadan, if we give one baht, Allah will give us 10 baht!” One Malay woman in her late 60s said, “This is the big month (PM. bule besar) where our ama (PM. religious practice) will have pahalo more than usual (PM. gano-gano)”. A recently retired Malay man shared his opinion with me that, “We receive two or three times the amount of merit from the things we do in Ramadan compared to any other month in the year”. He added (somewhat sheepishly) that he was not sure. Others made bolder claims: Ramadan is a special time. Lamaat taroweh is lamaat sunnat but the merit is the same as lamaat fardu. In other words, each raka’at in lamaat taroweh has the same merit as in each raka’at in any other lamaat fardu. In Ramadan, however, each fardu waktu will produce 70 times more merit.

Another asserted that whatever they do in Ramadan, they will be rewarded as much as 70 times the amount of merit. One of the most important sources of merit during Ramadan is devotional readings of the Qur’an. This is perhaps the case as this was the month in which the Qur’an was first sent down (Surah 2:185). Ramadan reinforces and celebrates Qur’an’s centrality and importance in Islam. While those capable of doing so read through the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an, other options are open to those unable to do so. Audio CDs or VCDs of Qur’an recitations often replace television during Ramadan. Some CDs recite an ayat followed by a Thai interpretation, while VCDs displaying both the Arabic text being recited and the Thai interpretation underneath. Recitations of the Qur’an are also central to taroweh prayers (SM. sembahyang tarawih, Th. lamaat taroweh). This name is derived from the Arabic word for the rest that follows every four raka’at. Semaye taroweh is referred to as sunnat muakaf, which one retired Cabetigo resident described as, “An important sunnat. You don’t have to, but you should”. The practice of semaye taroweh varies among the mosques and prayer rooms in Cabetigo. The following description by an elderly Malay woman is of semaye taroweh performed at Masyid Rajo in Ramadan of 2006: After Iso, we all rested just long enough for people to perform semaye sunnat. This was only five minutes. We then did two raka’at, and then we gave the salam. We did this 10 times. This was 20 raka’at. After this we did witr. This was two raka’at, then the salam, then another raka’ah. There were two imams. One did 15 days; the other did another 15 days and 30 juz were recited over semaye taroweh.

Not mentioned by this informant was the importance of the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an being recited during semaye taroweh. A Malay man respected for his Islamic knowledge and piety commented on this: There are 30 juz in the Qur’an, which is about 20 pages long—the entire Qur’an having 604 pages. When you perform semaye taroweh, the longer the passages you recite the more merit you’ll get. The more people there are praying, the more the merit everyone will get as well. Every evening at the Masyid Rajo, a juz of the Qur’an is recited by the hafiz (Ar. memoriser of the Qur’an) during the semaye taroweh. When this is done for 30 nights the entire Qur’an has been recited through the month of Ramadan. If this is done, people will earn lots of merit. If you don’t recite it at the mosque, you can alternatively recite it at home.

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Like the Masyid Rajo, semaye taroweh at Surau Rim Khlong consists of 20 raka’at that are prayed in 10 sets of two. These are followed by three raka’ats of witr. However, unlike Masyid Rajo, at Surau Rim Khlong only short surahs commonly used in salat, were recited. As such, taroweh concludes at Surau Rim Khlong half an hour earlier than at Masyid Rajo. People prayed taroweh at different places for different reasons. One person commented that he prays semaye taroweh at Masyid Rajo instead of the Surau Rim Khlong where he usually prays. His reason for doing so was that he believed that he got more merit from praying at a mosque. “At a prayer room, we can’t perform semaye Juma’at. It is better to perform semaye taroweh at a mosque”. When I said that I had heard how full Masyid Rajo had been during taroweh, he added, “we read through the entire Qur’an—all 30 juz. At the surau, they only read the shorter surahs”. I solicited the opinions of a Thai Muslim neighbour about how meritorious the performance of taroweh was where the entire 30 juz were recited. I received the following explanation: In lamaat sunnat the merit from each raka’at is the same as for lamaat fardu. But in Ramadan, each fardu produces 70 times more merit. If a juz is recited by the hafiz every night of taroweh, I think that is more meritorious for the ma’mung (PM. congregation) because they hear the entire Qur’an—which is the word of God—through this month.

In Cabetigo some prefer to pray semaye taroweh at the Pakistani mosque where only eight raka’at are performed. Like at the Masyid Rajo, the hafiz who leads this congregation recites one juz of the Holy Qur’an every night during Ramadan. A Thai Muslim friend who attended taroweh there recounted: We do 11 raka’at. We do eight raka’at, then three more called witr. We can do these three at home, if we prefer. All this begins after a short rest following Iso. The hafiz needs to prepare themselves and rest. Elsewhere, they just do taroweh straight after Iso. Semaye taroweh takes about an hour. One juz is recited every night taroweh is performed. Occasionally they will do one and a half juz just in case Ramadan this year is only 29 days long instead of 30. If we perform taroweh, we’ll get lots of merit! It’s like everything in Ramadan.

A third source of merit in Ramadan is acts of charity (PM. sedekoh, Th. tham thaan). The following extract from my field notes describe the acts of charity I observed in the first week of Ramadan in 2006: In the first week of Ramadan, this week, almost every day Sandra or I have discovered a bag or curry, or dates, of khong waan (Th. sweets) on our door handle. The Ramadan market in Cabetigo is doing a particularly booming trade, and I have noticed that many people, upon buying a number of bags of curry (Th. kaeng, PM. gula), drop in on relatives, neighbours or friends to give away some of what they have bought. Others commented that in the first week at least half of the pot of curry that is prepared to break the fast will be bagged and distributed just before Asar. A person I sought out to verify this explained that this was a more common practice in the first week of Ramadan than at the end of the month where the emphasis is on seclusion, and money is also tighter.6

6

Field notes November 17, 2006.

Hari Rayo

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Inviting people to break the fast (PM. buko poso, Th. kae puat) by sharing iftar in the evening is one of the most common forms of sedekoh in Ramadan. The sweet drinks, dates and sweets (Th., khong wan) with which the fast is broken (PM. buko poso, Th. kae buat) with a meal (referred to as iftar) is typically brought between Asar and Norib. Over these 2 hours hundreds of people from all over Pattani descend on Cabetigo’s Ramadan market to but local delicacies. Although sedekoh in Ramadan emphasised the ummah, one informant pointed out that in Ramadan, Muslims were generous with the things that they were depriving themselves of: In Ramadan if we give one baht, Allah will give us 10 baht! We also have to poso our mouth over this month! And have to be generous in this month. As we are fasting, we often want to keep food to eat it for ourselves rather than give to others. But if we make lots of merit, it is the business of Allah in this month to reward us.

Sedekoh was considered by some to bring balance in a month that involves so much religious activity. Readers are already aware that sedekoh is particularly valued by Muslims with only minimal Islamic education and expertise. In the course of a discussion about Ramadan, a Malay man made the following comments about sedekoh: For the merit we make during Ramadan, we will be rewarded as much as 70 times the amount of merit. This includes money. For example, at the local mosque here, we break the fast together every evening. People sign on a sheet on the notice board to make a donation of 1,500 baht which will be enough to pay for the food for everyone who wants to eat that evening. We make merit for the next world when we do this. This is what we hope. Then later on, we’ll make du’o from my donations I ask to be rewarded—both in this life and in the life to come.

Hari Rayo Hari Rayo (Ar. Id-Il-Fitri) is celebrated on the first 3 days of Shawwal, although for those that fast for an extra 6 days from the second of Shawwal, Hari Rayo is a 1-day celebration. Shawwal begins with the sighting of the new moon or after 30 days of fasting. The sighting of the new moon is widely anticipated, and is announced via radio and loudspeakers. On the first night of Shawwal those attempting to sleep are woken by the noise of fireworks (Th. phathap) and local Malay bamboo cannons (PM. bede puluh) that continue until just before suboh prayers. After suboh, chanting is broadcast from Cabetigo’s mosques and prayer rooms. This continues until Juma’ah prayers that are held between seven and eight o’clock.7 Between suboh and Juma’ah prayers, many visit the kubor to “make merit” for deceased relatives, whose graves have already been cleaned (see Figs. 7.1 and 7.2). Juma’ah prayers are held at registered mosques. Although not compulsory, almost

7 Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, la ilaha illa Allah, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, wa li-illahi al-hamd “God is great! God is great! God is great! There is no deity but God. God is great! God is great! To God goes all praise!”

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Fig. 7.1 Motorbikes parked at Kubor Tok Ayoh on Hari Rayo

Fig. 7.2 Crowds at Kubor Tok Ayoh on Hari Rayo

all attend, dressed in their new outfits. At the completion of Juma’ah prayers worshippers greet each other (PM. jaba’ sale), exchange the greeting “selama’ Hari Rayo”, and ask for forgiveness (PM mito’ ma’af, Th. kho thoot duay). Many who have not already done so already leave the mosque for the kubor. Although Hari Rayo celebrates the successful completion of Ramadan, it is also referred to as a wan di (Th. good day) for making merit for the deceased. Children read (PM. baco, Th. aan) the Qur’an, dedicating (PM. hadioh, Th. song) the bun or pahalo to the deceased. After this, a du’o asking for their forgiveness and

Poso Sunnat and Rayo Ne

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Fig. 7.3 Pouring warm water and burning incense (foreground) on Hari Rayo

peace is offered. Families often enter the kubor together, although not all actively participate. Some pour water over the cleaned grave. Although only rarely witnessed in the kubors around Cabetigo, some also burn incense (see Fig. 7.3). Doing so is reputed to sooth and bring pleasure to all ahl Kubor. Although those entering the kubor during the mornings of Hari Rayo are almost exclusively men, some women do enter in the afternoons when there are less people are around. Some of Cabetigo’s strictest reformists do no enter the kubor on Hari Rayo at all, although all offer prayers at home. Some also make sedekoh jariyah with a niat so that the merit increases their parent’s comfort.

Poso Sunnat and Rayo Ne Although no one disputes that Ramadan is the most important fast in Cabetigo, a range of supererogatory fasts (PM. poso sunnat) are also performed by some. Poso sunnat may be performed on any day except Fridays, Hari Rayo, Hari Rayo Haji, and the 2 days following it. Muslims most commonly fast on the 11th, 12th, and 30th days of every month (referred to as Alayyam (Ar.) or “bright days”), on Mondays (the day Muhammad was born on), Thursdays (which was the practice of the Prophet), and on the 10th day of Muharam. Some also fast on alternate days. The most important, however, is the 6 day fast between the second and seventh of Shawwal which Muslims in Cabetigo refer to as rayo ne (SM. enam, Eng. six). This 6-day fast primarily exists for women forced to miss days of the wajib fast due to menstruation. Nevertheless, this is a widespread practice among both men and women in Cabetigo that has effectively reduced Hari Rayo celebrations to

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1 day. Those who make up missed days of Ramadan over these 6 days do no more than fulfill the wajib fast. Similar to semaye godo which make up for missed fardu prayers, this is poso godo—not poso sunnat. Some prefer to perform poso godo immediately after the first day of Hari Rayo, despite being able to do so at anytime until Nisful Sha’aban. Those fasting over the first 6 days of Shawwal, despite having not missed any days in Ramadan are performing poso sunnat are devout (and often older) men and post-menopausal women. As the following anecdotes demonstrate, people cite a number of reasons for doing this. Two Malay women explained: When we were young, we mightn’t have done everything that was wajib. We didn’t have the sense (Th. sitit) then that we do now. Now that we are older we know these things. So, now we want to make up for the things that we did when we were younger.

Similar to the raka’at prayed before and after fardu prayers, a young Thai Muslim man explained that he fasted these extra 6 days due to concerns about imperfections in his observance of the wajib fast: I have been taught that if you do what is wajib, and you then do what is sunnat, it has the ability to compensate for the imperfections in how you performed those things that are wajib. In other words, it is like filling up a hole through which water is leaking. So, for example, when we fast we are meant to be fasting with our mind, and eyes and mouth. Sometimes we don’t do all these things! We then do the poso sunnat in order to get the full measure of merit. The only person who could answer these questions is the Prophet Muhammad (sallalahu aleyhi wasallam). You talk to tok gurus and they all have different opinions, but they all come from the Prophet.

A Malay man explained that his performance of Ramadan might have unknowingly been spoiled: I might go to Had Yai and see a beautiful woman who distracts us momentarily, or our heart might wander in some way. Even though this might only have a 1% effect on our merit, we want to get the absolute maximum amount of merit from the month of Ramadan. So, we fast more!

While referred to the desire to accrue as much merit as possible in this season of heightened religious consciousness, a reformist neighbour dismissed rayo ne as bid’ah. Nevertheless, he conceded, “You’ll get lots of merit for doing this. It is written that praying these extra days is the same as fasting for a year”. Pressing him for more details about his motivation, I asked why he did this even after he had already fasted the entire month. He replied, “Because you’ll get lots of merit!” When I asked a Malay couple about their motivation for fasting after hari rayo, the wife answered, “We do this to get lots and lots of merit! If we do lots, we will get lots!” The husband added, “Because we want to get to heaven”. Muslims in Cabetigo also asserted that fasting these 6 days was equivalent to fasting an entire year. According to a neighbour of mine, every day that is fasted in Ramadan is equivalent to fasting 10 days. “So, 30 times 10 is 300 days, which is equivalent to 10 months. Likewise, the six sunnat fast days in Shawwal are equivalent to 60 days, which is 2 months and 10 plus two equals 12—a year!” He continued:

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Some things are sunnat—Rasul Allah taught us to do them. If we do them, then this is good. But if we don’t do them, no problem! If we fast these days, it is like fasting for a year. If we do this for 10 years, then we will have lots of merit! We believe this, although we don’t know the exact amount of merit we’ll receive from Allah in akhirat. The thing is this: if we are to get 100% merit from the things that are wajib we have to do these 100% correct. We have to dress correctly, we have to niat correctly, we have to be pure in our thoughts, we have to concentrate and not think about other things. But if we don’t—like thinking about something else when we are praying—it is like writing an exam when we write all the answers correctly, but our hand-writing isn’t very nice. Because of this, we will lose marks.

This supererogatory equivalent to the wajib fast of Ramadan is one of a number of similarities that exist between Ramadan and the haj. Both are merit-making complexes that have wajib and sunnat forms. Both also yield mountains of merit by being performed during Islam’s holiest month and in Islam’s sacred centre.

The Haj: Prerequisites and Preparations Anyone in Cabetigo intending to perform the haj must make a number of logistical, financial and spiritual preparations. For most in Cabetigo, the most formidable preparation is the raising of the required 120,000 baht. While many of the improvements to Mecca’s infrastructure have made the haj safer, these have also increased it cost. One elderly haji who had performed the haj more than five times said: In the past it was more difficult for people to go on the haj. It was also more dangerous. The trip took longer. However, although it only takes seven hours to fly there, and there are air-conditioned hotels in Mecca for you to stay in, there are also aspects of doing the haj in the past that were easier then what they are now. For example, in the past, there weren’t as many people during the haj as there are now. Now, it is so crowded! These days it costs a lot more money. These days, it is not at all straightforward for people to take time off work to perform the haj.

While only compulsory for those able to afford it, there is disagreement in Cabetigo about what constituted affordability. Although most defined affordability as the ability to save the required amount, Ased insisted that, “Every last satang of this must have been earned through halal means”.8 Many villagers finance their haj through the sale of land. This is only permissible if by doing so no undue hardship to either the returning pilgrims or their family is caused. All outstanding debts to individuals must also be repaid before leaving for Mecca. For instance, a former student related that his sister had paid a tiny 300 baht debt that she had incurred while studying at a Thai state secondary school 15 years earlier.

8

25 satang is the smallest coin in Thailand’s currency.

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Others interpreted the issue of indebtedness differently. Some rejected that a loan on a house disqualified them, provided that all loan repayments continued to be made while undertaking the haj. The following Malay male informant explained: I went to Mecca before having repaid my house loan—as well as another for my car, both of which I consider essential for me, and my family. I met these loan payments every month without a problem. I could also afford to go to Mecca. Do you know that there are some ore kayo [PM. rich people] in Cabetigo who are always buying land and houses? Some of these are bought outright, while others take mortgages out on them. These people claim “I can’t go to Mecca yet—I have to clear my debt, first”. While Allah alone knows, I feel that they should either perform the haj when they can afford it, after buying their first house, and before buying more houses. For many, this is an excuse—nothing more, nothing less. Islam does not make things too hard!

The Islamic bank of Thailand (Th., Thanakhan Islam Haeng Prathet Thai) provides Islamic loans to applicants with a salary of more than 20,000 baht per month. The repayments for such loans are between 2,000 and 3,000 baht per month. Such loans are considered halal if one is able to make the repayments. In addition to savings, proceeds from land sales and loans from the Islamic Bank of Thailand, some received partial or full sponsorships to perform the haj. The owner of one of Pattani’s Islamic printing presses regularly sponsored members of his staff unable to finance this themselves. He explained, “Islam teaches us that when someone is making a sedekoh for someone to perform the haj, that person receives the same amount of merit that the person performing the haj receives”. Others were sponsored by overseas Islamic foundations. Intriguingly, none of those who were sponsored fitted the definition of the poor and needy. I discovered that many recipients had worked in a range of Islamic foundations, or as vote canvassers (Th. hua khamaen) for local Muslim politicians.9 Given the enormous social capital associated with the performance of the haj, such sponsorships resembled a form of patronage. One person I interviewed, who had once worked as a vote canvasser, refused such a sponsorship. He explains: I was informed that a wealthy Arab donor had been sick and made a sedekoh for some poor people to perform the haj. As you know, this is very meritorious. Perhaps he also wanted to cleanse himself from some sin. So, he contacted a Muslim politician in Thailand, asking him to distribute his sedekoh. Someone came to me, asking me if I was interested. When I heard where the sponsorship came from I turned it down as I thought that accepting it was not consistent with the wishes of the donor—I am not poor!

Others divulged that some who received sponsorships sometimes occasionally sold their place to someone else for a fee of 25,000 baht. Once this money was received, the individual administering this scholarship fund was contacted, requesting that their name be replaced with someone else’s. 9 Hua khamaen (Th. vote canvasser) perform a number of tasks for political parties before an election, and vary in seniority, but (as the title suggests) most fundamentally their primary task is to persuade locals to vote for their candidate. Although this might involve unethical practices such as vote-buying, this is not necessarily the case. For a discussion of hua khamaen in Thai political culture see Askew (2006, pp. 185–207).

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2007 was the first year in which the Pattani Municipality (Th. thesebarn) sponsored Pattani residents to the haj. The former chairman of the Cabetigo community recounted that he was asked to nominate people whose age, piety and low income made them eligible. Each of these had to fill out application forms, supply two passport pictures, and sign copies of their citizenship card (Th. bat prachachon) and house registration (Th. longthabian baan). They were finally interviewed by a committee at the thesebarn offices. The names of those confirmed to be suitable were added to a lottery that was subsequently drawn. One of the 10 applicants from Cabetigo was chosen. This person joined three from other communities in Pattani. Those expressing disapproval at this scheme pointed out that in 2007 the haj roughly coincided with local body elections. The thesebarn were therefore seeking influence (Th. wang phonprayoot)—not merit. In addition to obtaining finances, a call (PM. seru, Th. kham chern) is considered by some to be essential before performing the haj. Some cited a lack of call as their reason for delaying going to Mecca. Some claim: “I haven’t been called yet” (PM. Tak sapa seru lagi). The concept of call is an important element of the talbiyah, repeated by pilgrims throughout the haj.10 Although some insist on the necessity of the call, others such as Haji Hussein’s son Be Heng are dismissive of such thinking: Some people who say that they have not yet received a call are just making excuses! If we are a Muslims, we must follow the five Rukon of Islam—which includes the haj. They have a responsibility. There is nothing about a seru! Many in Cabetigo who postpone the haj are ignorant of their responsibilities, afraid of the journey, or reluctant to see such a large amount of money spent.

Another person who rejected the need for a seru commented, “If we are a Muslim, we have undertaken to do all that is required of us by God. We do this irrespective of how we feel. I don’t miss a fardu prayer because I don’t feel like it! It is the same with Ramadan. If someone said to me, ‘I haven’t received a call’ (PM. tak sapa seru); I would say Allah has already called you (PM. Allah seru doh!)!” In addition to being the biggest merit-making occasion of a lifetime, the haj is also a unique opportunity to receive forgiveness. A haji explained: The haj is a time for us to repent (PM. tobat) from sins—vowing never to do this again. Islam teaches us that if we do this—and after returning home never commits this again—our sin is wiped clean. But if we do it again, we are just as guilty.

Younger and wealthier members of the community hinted that this aspect of haj may be one of the reasons for deferring going to Mecca. As a source of forgiveness, those who undertook the haj were occasionally the subject of gossip. For example, a wealthy building contractor’s postponement of the haj was rumoured to be related to new and lucrative contracts that he would soon be tendering for, which would certainly require a suitable bribe. In another case, a relatively unexpected departure to 10

The Talbiyah: “Labbaika Allahomma labbaik. Labbaik La shareeka laka labbaik. Innalhamdah, wan-nematah, laka wal mulk, La shareeka laka”. This translates as: “Here I am O Allah (in response to your call), here I am. Here I am, you have no partner. Here I am. Verily all praise, grace and sovereignty belong to You. You have no partner”.

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Mecca was suspected of being related to the recent demise of a marriage rumoured to have resulted from marital infidelity. Upon their return, hajis or hajahs are expected to exemplify ritual observance and ethical uprightness. Ali attested to some of the changes he has seen in the past. Upon returning from Mecca, many begin performing fardu prayers at local mosques and prayer rooms: They have turned a new chapter and are less interested in the things of the world (PM. dunio) than in the hereafter (PM. akhirat). We live in this world temporally, and then will die. All of us! But in the next world, there is no death and we will live there forever.

There are, however, some who return from Mecca relatively unaffected. While the piety of both men and women is expected to change following their return, female pilgrims (Ar. hajah) are also expected to display increased modesty. A Malay woman opined: There are some who before going to Mecca dress immodestly. They wear tight-fitting clothes to show off their figure (Th. show hun). Immediately after returning they might dress more properly (Th. riaproi). Soon afterwards, however, they dress like they used to!

Some suggested that such women have got their money ready before being ready to change. Some men chauvinistically suggested that it was best for women to defer the haj until they are more concerned with hiding—rather than showing off—their figure. Although the organisation of the haj in Thailand is less rigid than in Malaysia, the services of a tok seh (PM. haj guide) are mandatory.11 Once a decision has been made to perform the haj, a tok seh is contacted. In interviews that dealt with tok seh, these were almost always people who had been recommended by a trusted relative or friend. Tok seh are also connected with haj companies who organise all transport, accommodation, and logistical details such as visas and immunisations. While some contact haj companies directly, none I interviewed did so. Ming, and his wife Nung, are Malay neighbours who made the pilgrimage to Mecca with a tok seh personally known to them. Trusting his honesty, they paid the required sum directly to him without any official receipt. Not everyone in Cabetigo had such a positive experience with their tok seh. When one neighbour returned from sending his nephew to the airport in Bangkok, he recounted the ordeal that this group of 40 pilgrims had undergone there. While waiting at the international airport terminal as instructed by their tok seh, one of his assistants arrived with bad news. He explained that there problems had been encountered with their tickets and visas and they were all to return to their hotel to await instructions. Furious, my neighbour’s nephew immediately went to the haj company that their tok seh worked for. There, he was informed that their tickets had not been issued as they were owed over 1,000,000 baht by their tok seh.

11 Robert Bianchi provides an excellent description of Malaysia’s Tabung Haji and the haj in (2004, pp. 113–140).

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Training is another aspect of a pilgrim’s preparation. In recent years, the Southern Thailand Haji Guide Association has provided training at the Southern View Hotel, in Pattani. One-day training courses are held free of charge over the weekends in the 3 months before the first pilgrims leave. Although the training is compulsory, many who I interviewed returned home immediately after receiving their immunisations without attending the lectures and training sessions, which they feared would be deadly boring. The Majlih Ugamo also held voluntary haj trainings sessions, and some tok seh prepare clients in their home. More training continues over the days spent in Mecca before the eighth of Dhu al-Hijjah when pilgrims leave Mecca for Mina. Before leaving for Mecca, feasts are held throughout Cabetigo for departing pilgrims. Most are held on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. These commence in the morning with semaye hajat. After this, relatives, neighbours and friends visit throughout the day. Many of those visiting perform semaye hajat, make small sedekoh towards travel expenses and promise to pray for a successful pilgrimage. A number of requests are also made by visitor. Some have specific needs they like pilgrims to off a du’o for. Others ask that their greetings and peace (PM. kiring sale, Th. faak salam) be offered to the Prophet at his tomb in Medina. After a feast held before her departure a Malay hajah explained: People believe that if they attend a feast like this, they share in some way the blessing of the haj. This is especially for people with little or no opportunity to perform the haj themselves. They will also make requests, which we must be attentive to.

Over and above clearing all debts, most pilgrims attempt to resolve outstanding disagreements (PM. puku, Th. Rueang). Some ask forgiveness (PM. mito’ ma’af, Th. kho thort) for wrong-doings. A number of hajis and hajahs I interviewed recounted contacting people to whom money had been lent, but not repaid. A Thai Muslim neighbour related sending, through an intermediary, a message to someone owing him money that he was planning to make the haj that year. Soon afterwards, this loan was repaid. Clearing unresolved issues and debts in this manner is considered to assist pilgrims making a new start when their return. As the following person explained, these were vestiges of the former realities of the haj: In the past, going on the haj took between three or four months. Sometimes people were away for years. Others died. So, in the past, people said goodbye to their family and friends knowing that it was possible they would not see them again. This is why it is so important to be completely debt free when one leaves, and that there are no sins that you have committed to others—or have been committed to you that you have not cleared. Allah will forgive the sins committed against him, but it is our responsibility to clear these other sins that involve others.

On the day pilgrims leave Cabetigo, relatives gather to perform a sunnat prayer for travelling (Ar. salat safer) before leaving for the nearest airport in Had Yai. In the weeks leading up to the haj, a constant stream of packed pick-up trucks drive in convoy to Had Yai. The number of cars at Had Yai airport is such that those of pilgrims are directed to a specially designated section of the airport car park to minimise disruption to other passengers.

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Having delineated all preparations that pilgrims must make before leave Cabetigo for Mecca, the multiplications of merit that operate there is described. Before doing so, I first provide a brief account of the haj’s most important ritual constituents

Performance of the Haj and Mecca’s Multiplications of Merit The haj has three forms: (1) Qiraan haj (in which haj and umroh are all done in one ihram); (2) Ifraad haj, (where haj is made without umroh); and (3) Tammatu haj (where umroh and haj are performed on two ihrams). All Cabetigo residents I interviewed who performed Tammatu haj. While this the only pilgrimage that the Prophet undertook, its two ihrams made it the easiest for first-time pilgrims to perform. Ihram requires pilgrims to conduct the full ablution (Ar. ghusl), the utterance of talbiyah, and the donning of two white unhemmed sheets made of towelling material (for men), or a plain white robe (for women). A number of prohibitions are associated with being in ihram.12 The tammatu haj commences with entering ihram to perform umroh. Umroh consists of the tawaf, the anti-clockwise circling of the Ka`bah seven times (pointing to the black stone as it is passed); Sa’i, or the walking between the hills of Safa and Marwah seven times13 ; and the ritual haircutting (Ar. qasr), or head shaving (Ar. halq). On the eight of Dhu al-Hijjah, pilgrims travel from Mecca to Mina where the day is spent observing fardu prayers. They stay the night there in the tents provided. On the ninth of Dhu al-Hijjah, pilgrims enter ihram, perform Suboh, and then leave Mina for Arafat where Muhammad preached his last sermon. There, pilgrims remain in a prayer vigil between noon and sunset, referred to as woquf. At sunset, they leave Arafat for Muzdalifah, where many spend the night out in the open. After Suboh on the 10th of Dhu al-Hijjah, woquf is again observed. After this, pebbles are collected for the stoning of the devil. Pilgrims travel to Mina and stone the big devil (Ar. rami jamra aqaba). For those who are either required to (through breaking ihram), or wish to do so as a voluntary sedekoh, a sacrifice (Ar. qurbani) is then made.14 This is followed by performing qasr or halq one last time. Pilgrims

12

Prohibitions in ihram include quarrelling, profane language, fighting, sexual activity of any sort, and the cutting of hair, beards and finger nails. 13 This symbolises Hagar’s search for water for Ishmael that led to the discovery of the Zam Zam well. 14 Coinciding with the sacrifice made by pilgrims in Mina on the 10th of Dhu al-Hijjah, is the celebration of the second annual Muslim festival of Hari Rayo Haji (PM.) (Ar. Id Il-Adha). While a description of this has already been provided in Chapter 1, I reiterate that the focus of Hari Rayo Haji is: (1) the sacrifice (Ar. qurbani, PM. korbe) of a cow; and (2) Juma’at prayers that are performed on the large open field in front of Bengamat School (Pattani’s largest state secondary school). Studies that deal with the sacrifice of Id Il-Adha include those by Bowen (1992), CombsSchilling (1989), Lazarus-Yafeh (1978) and van de Bruinhorst (2007).

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then travel to Mecca where both the tawaaf (tawaaf ziyaarah, or tawaaf al-Ifadah), and sa`i for the haj, are performed. Pilgrims are required to return to Mina before Suboh on the morning of the 11th to perform the stoning of all three devils (Ar. rami jimaar) that commences after noon. Rami jimaar is then repeated on the 12th of Dhu al-Hijjah, after which pilgrims may return to Mecca to perform tawaaf one last time. This completes the haj. However, those who have not left Mina before sunset on the 12th are required to stay one further night. On the 13th of Dhu al-Hijjah, the stoning of the devils is repeated. The tawaaf in Mecca is then performed which completes the haj. Just as the merit received from Ramadan come from more than its wajib abstinences, the mountains of merit made in Mecca by pilgrims are from more than the 5-day haj (and umroh) described above. Every haji and hajah I interviewed mentioned one of the highlights of their haj being times of worship in Masyid Al-Haram, or inside the kawase al-Haram (PM.), or khet al-Haram (Th.). One haji explained: If I pray at home, I get one mark of merit. If I pray in a mosque, I get 27 marks of merit. If I pray at the Al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem, I get 25,000 marks of merit. If I pray in Medina, I get 50,000 marks of merit. If I pray in Mecca, I receive 100,000 marks of merit!

The desire to obtain as much merit as possible while in Mecca is illustrated by the following comments about the haj’s innovative practices (PM. bid’ah): People do bid’ah to increase the merit from the haj. They think, “If I do this, it will increase my pahalo. Oh! If I do this, this will also help”. This is something that some tok seh also encourage. There are others, however, who fear that instead of getting more pahalo from these innovative practices, their pahalo will be less. We believe that the haj that is rewarded with the most pahalo is that which follows the sunnah of the Prophet. If we do this, there will be no doso which will eat away at the pahalo merit.

While the haj fulfills the fifth pillar of Islam (for those able to afford it), it also earns enormous amounts of merit. Hajis and hajahs desire to achieve what they referred to as haj mabrup. Those who achieve this have all sins forgiven, permitting them to return to Cabetigo as pure in the sight of God as new-born babies. One man in an interview explained: The issue of forgiveness is very important. When we have completed the haj, our sins are forgiven. We are white. If we tobat (PM. repent) from a sin while on the haj, we can be sure that we will be forgiven.

All those who correctly perform the haj with ikhalah achieve haj mabrup, but only Allah ultimately knows who has and has not. I once expressed my surprise to a Malay woman at anyone spending over 10,000 baht without ikhalah. She explained, “Do you know? Some people go to Mecca to sell things—this is their main objective”.

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Reasons for Repetitions Like salat and poso, sunnat equivalents of the wajib haj exist. These include repetitions of the haj, and the lesser pilgrimage (umroh). Although those able to afford the haj are only required to perform this once, many hajis return to Mecca a second time. Many desire to repeat the intense times of devotion in Mecca. Although possibly motivated by the considerable amounts of merit this supererogatory repetition generates, most in Cabetigo who repeated the haj did so for a deceased parent who died without having done the haj themselves. Readers are now familiar that all of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents accept their responsibility to make merit for the deceased. While no consensus exists on the legitimacy and efficacy of merit transference by non-anok soleh, merit made for deceased parents by anok soleh is unanimously accepted to be orthodox and effective. Children of those who have expressed a desire to perform the haj themselves (which is always the case) are able to this posthumously. In addition to sedekoh jariyah, repetitions of the haj for deceased parents are the most common strategies employed by Cabetigo’s reformists to make merit for deceased parents. I mentioned in the previous chapter that no funeral feast was held for my Pakistani neighbour, Pok Cik See, who passed away within days of both Pok Wae and Pok Nik. However, 2 months after burying Pok Cik See, his son Hakim performed the haj for him. Hakim explains that when doing so he did, “Everything the same as I would if I was doing this for myself. The only difference was that the bun of my niat be dedicated to my father”. Some performed the haj for the deceased with money from the deceased estate. For Pok Cik See, it was poor health rather than lack of finances which had prevented him from performing the haj himself. Just as the haj is not wajib for those unable to afford it, neither was using the deceased’s estate permissible if by doing so the financial security of the family would be jeopardised. In the accounts of how merit was made through posthumous performances of the haj, there was disagreement among respondents about how effective some of these had been. When performed by an anok soleh the amount of merit transferred was held to be the same as if he or she had performed the haj herself. Some Muslims who were childless (for whatever reason), sometimes request a relative perform the haj for them. For instance, 3 years after performing the haj, Abdul Ahad returned to Mecca to repeat the haj for his mother’s sister. When I reminded him about the comments he had made about merit-transference by non-anok soleh in previous interviews, he conceded the ambiguity before explaining his beliefs about the legitimacy of what he had undertaken: My mother’s sister (PM. mo’ daro, SM. mak saudara) brought me up for many years. I was as close to her as my own mother. She died having not performed the haj and I was keen to return her many kindnesses (PM. balas budi) she had shown me over many years. I paid for this myself and performed this with the niat to dedicate the pahalo to her.

Abdul Ahad refused to speculate when I asked whether only his mo’ daro would receive this pahalo, or whether both would receive the full measure, or would the measure of merit generated be shared equally between them. Instead, he reaffirmed

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his confidence that Allah was as just and as he was generous, and all would be duly rewarded. Less ideal—and therefore less meritorious—are situations where non-relatives perform the haj funded from the deceased’s estate. This is referred to as wa’ upoh haj (Th. jaang khon tham haj, PM. hiring someone to perform the haj), mentioned by Patya (1974, p. 225). Wa’ upoh haj costs considerably less that the full cost of the haj. A Malay woman, whose father died when she was a child, explained that she and her siblings had hired a tok seh to perform the haj for him after they had all been working for a few years. They chose a close relative who lived in Mecca. This was cheaper than hiring a tok seh from Pattani and was also less risky. Like many others, she was aware that unscrupulous tok seh sometimes accepted money without doing what was promised. She claimed that tok seh routinely accepted payments from more than one person. Upon arriving in Mecca, the tok seh sub-contracts these duties out to others for a profit. Another informant recounted: Some of these tok seh take 30,000 from this family, 25,000 from that family . . . They do this to perhaps five families so that there is enough money in it for him. He then travels to Mecca and pays others to perform the haj for these people, saying, “here is 15,000 baht, go and perform the haj for Abdullah bin Muhammad Noor al-Pattani”.

A Thai Muslim man recounted that he had hired a tok seh to make merit for his father. At the time he had no idea that he would eventually be able to perform the haj himself, let alone repeat the haj for his deceased father. “My siblings and I felt that we could afford the 20,000 baht that was required at the time”. Along with tok guru, tok pakir and tok babo, tok seh are ritual specialists that Cabetigo’s Muslim residents hire to make merit for the dead.

The Sunnat Lesser Pilgrimage While umroh is an element of tammatu haj described above, this also refers to the lesser pilgrimage which Muslims may perform at anytime. At off-peak times, umroh takes as little as 1 hour to complete. Some from Cabetigo have performed umroh while in the Middle East on business, while others travel to Mecca especially of do so. As with the haj, the merit one receives through umroh is not only from its prescribed ritual elements, but also from the multiplications of merit for all meritorious deeds and rituals performed there. Although Umroh generates merit, this is not always the primary reason for its performance. It might be preformed at a time of crisis, or when seeking guidance. Others view the lesser pilgrimage as preparation for the haj. One respondent related to that while still unable to meet the cost of the haj, the 30,000 baht required to perform umroh was not prohibitively expensive. A 40-year-old Thai Muslim neighbour once commented to me that his family had become increasingly concerned by his lack of interest in religion issues. He said, “Perhaps going on umroh will allay their fears and increase my interest in Islam. It might be good for me. Islam might get into my blood (Th. khaw sen lueat)”. Almost a year later, in a conversation in which he remarked upon the outrageous price of

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beer in an international airport terminal he had recently been through, I asked how his plans for umroh were developing. With a smile, he replied “Oh, with the high Thai baht, business is very busy—maybe next year!” Like the haj, umroh may also be performed for the deceased. Many in Cabetigo who have performed umroh a number of times have done so with a specific niat that a recently deceased relative receive all merit produced. On account of the Ramadan scale of merit described above, the fast month is the most popular time of year to perform umroh. Respondents who have spent the holiest month of the year in the world’s most sacred place claim to have received as much merit as they would have from the haj. Some claimed that the 100,000 marks of merit that one normally receives from one fardu prayer in the Al-Haram mosque is further magnified during Ramadan. Cabetigo residents who have visited Mecca during both the haj season and during Ramadan recount that Mecca was more crowded during the fast month, especially over the final 10 days of i’tikaf. I received the following frank reply from a neighbour who had recently returned from his second Ramadan in Mecca, when I asked about whether merit-generation was his primary motivation: Why do you think that I go to Mecca every year? It is because I will get lots of merit! When you fast the month of Ramadan in Mecca, you get lots of merit! Oh heaps! Over i’tikaf there is no room in any of the hotels. In addition, at taroweh the grand mosque in Mecca is completely full. If we pray in one of three mosques—Al-Haram in Mecca, the Prophet’s mosque in Medina, and the Mosque Al-Aqsa in Jerusalem—we will get more merit than any other place in the world. This is clearly stated in the Qur’an and hadith. In my opinion, it is worth the money (Th. khum). Remember the haj is wajib if you have the money. You can perform it more than one time. But I had done the haj already. But if I spend Ramadan in Mecca, I’ll get lots of merit. While I am there, however, I’ll also perform umroh. You get the same amount of merit from the performance of the umroh in the month of Ramadan, the haj, and performing the fast month in Mecca—they are all the same. We can perform umroh as many times as we like.

Another informant claimed that although seven performances of umroh yielded the same merit as the haj, this could be achieved during just one umroh in Ramadan. In an interview with couple who had recently returned from spending Ramadan in Mecca recounted wanting to do the same next year. Although they repeated the now familiar details of the compounded multiplications of merit, they had other reasons. While most in Cabetigo considered them wealthy, their Saudi relatives did not. As such they were the recipients of zakat fitroh, as well as other sedekoh. Not only did these cover the cost of their trip, but they returned to Cabetigo with many things that they had brought in Saudi malls—with extra money in their pocket to spend at home.

Conclusion Although brief mention has been made above to some supererogatory fasts, I have been specifically concerned with the manufacture of merit through the fast month of Ramadan and pilgrimages Mecca. Like the feasting complexes dealt with

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in the previous chapter, these earn enormous amounts for two reasons. The first is that—like fardu prayers—through observing Ramadan’s wajib abstinences and performing the 5-day haj (for those able to afford it) Muslims fulfill their ritual obligations to Allah. Those doing so are rewarded with merit. Secondly, all the discrete merit-generating ritual performances during Islam’s holiest month and in Islam’s scared centre are rewarded more generously. I have referred to the latter as merit’s Meccan multiplications, similar to Möller’s “Ramadan scale of merit”. Such dynamics reveal that Muslim conceptions of merit-generation in Cabetigo are informed by an Islamic cosmology in which certain times and places are holier than others. Cabetigo residents whose disposable incomes mean that they are extremely unlikely to ever perform the haj, eagerly anticipate Ramadan’s arrival. Not only is this the biggest merit-making opportunity of the year that, but it is also accessible to all. Although some do no more than observe Ramadan’s wajib abstinences, most also perform acts of charity, supererogatory prayers, and devotional readings and recitations of the Qur’an. The prominent position of the Qur’an during Ramadan is connected to this being the month in which Islamic tradition asserts Muhammad received his first revelation. In Masyid Rayo and Masyid Pakistan, semaye taroweh included the recitals of the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an by the hafiz who function as the tok ime. Although the focus of Ramadan is the personal accruement of merit, on Hari Rayo most in Cabetigo are concerned with making merit for deceased relatives. The most important supererogatory fast in Cabetigo is performed over the first 6 days of Shawwal. Its function resembles the two raka’ats prayed before and after fardu prayers that are held to repair any imperfections in the performance of the wajib. Some who fast these extra 6 days, despite not missing any days of the wajib fast, view this to be equivalent to fasting an entire year. Ramadan is the most important month for merit-generation, and the haj is the biggest merit-making event of a life-time. Ramadan’s wajib abstinences fulfils one’s annual obligations to Allah. The 5-day haj fulfils one of Islam’s five pillars (PM. Rukon). Rewards from any meritorious deeds performed inside Mecca’s kawase al-Haram (PM.) or khet al-Haram (Th.) are multiplied, like those undertaken during Ramadan. For these reasons, both are times of intense spiritual devotion and religious activity. Over and above fulfilling obligations and generating merit, Cabetigo’s Muslim residents perform the haj for other reasons. All hope to achieve haj mabrup which permits them to return to Cabetigo as pure in the sight of God as new-born babies. Certain performances of the haj are furthermore connected with merit-making for the dead. The ideal (and more efficacious) practice is for anok soleh to perform the haj for deceased parents. The fiscal incentive for those who wa’ upoh haji—the hiring of a tok seh to perform the haj for the deceased—is that while less efficacious, it is a quarter of the cost of the haj. Like semaye sunnat and poso sunnat, umroh is a supererogatory equivalent of the haj. Merit Muslims in Cabetigo performed umroh for a number of reasons. Some saw it as preparation for the haj, while others made the trip to Mecca after a time of

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crisis. Most who performed umroh during Ramadan were motivated by the mountains of merit that would be made by spending the holiest month of the year in Islam’s sacred centre. As repetitions of the haj are often motivated by the desire to make merit for the deceased, umroh was frequently repeated with the niat that all the merit generated assists the named recipients in the grave. Many of the themes presented in the previous two chapters have been repeated above. Neither Ramadan nor the haj are efficacious without a niat. The haj must be funded by money obtained through halal means. I have reminded readers that both wajib and sunnat fasts and pilgrimages exist. Like Qur’anic readings and recitations, salat, sedekoh, and tham bun feasts, the fasts and pilgrimages described above fulfill a number of functions. While my primary interest is in merit generation, accumulation, and transference, the month of Ramadan and annual pilgrimage to Mecca emphasise the global ummah and provide opportunities for forgiveness. Muslims in Cabetigo also transfer merit to the deceased through wa’ upoh haji and visits to Cabetigo’s kubor over Hari Rayo. Tok seh are one of number of ritual specialists that Cabetigo’s traditionalists hire when making merit for the dead, despite reformist rejection of its efficacy. Even Cabetigo’s most conservative constituency accepts that the living are obliged to make merit for the dead, as performances of sedekoh jariyah on Hari Rayo and repetitions of the haj for deceased parents demonstrate. Having provided details of the rituals through which Muslims in Cabetigo generate and transfer bun or pahalo, the focus of the following chapter is meritmaking rationales. In other words, what motivates the generation, accumulation and transference of merit?

References Antoun, R. T. (1968). The social significance of Ramadan in an Arab village. The Muslim World, 58, 36–42, 95–104. Askew, M. (2006). Culture and electoral politics in Southern Thailand: Election campaigning, group formation and the symbolic construction of political allegiances in Songkhla Province. Bangkok, Thailand: King Prajadhipok’s Institute. Bianchi, R. R. (2004). Guests of God: Pilgrimage and politics in the Islamic world. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Bowen, J. R. (1992). On scriptural essentialism and ritual variation: Muslim sacrifice in Sumatra and Morocco. American Ethnologist, 19, 656–671. Buitelaar, M. (1993). Fasting and feasting in Morocco. Oxford, UK: Berg. Combs-Schilling, M. (1989). Sacred performances. Islam, sexuality and sacrifice. New York: Columbia University Press. Hellman, J. (2008). The significance of eating during Ramadan: Consumption and exchange of food in a village in West Java. Food and Foodways, 16(3), 201–261. Lazarus-Yafeh, H. (1978). Muslim festivals. Numen, 25(1), 52–64. Matheson, V., & Milner, A. C. (1984). Perceptions of the Haj: Five Malay texts (Research Notes and Discussion Paper 46). Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. McDonnell, M. B. (1986). The conduct of Hajj from Malaysia and its socio-economic impact on Malay society: A descriptive and analytical study, 1860-1981. Ph.D. thesis, Columbia University.

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Möller, A. (2005a). Islam and Traweh prayers in Java: Unity, diversity, and cultural smoothness. Indonesia and the Malay World, 33(95), 37–52. Möller, A. (2005b). Ramadan in Java: The joy and jihad of ritual fasting. Lund, Sweden: Anpere: Anthropological Perspectives on Religion. Patya, S. (1974). Social organization of an inland Malay village community in Southern Thailand (with emphasis on the pattern of leadership). Ph.D. thesis, Oxford University. Schielke, S. (2009). Being good in Ramadan: Ambivalence, fragmentation, and the moral self in the lives of young Egyptians. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 15(1), S24–S40. Syed Mhd. Khairudin Aljunied. (2004). Edward Said and Southeast Asian Islam: Western images of Meccan Pilgrims (Hajjis) in the Dutch East Indies, 1800–1900. Journal of Commonwealth and Postcolonial Studies, 11(1–2), 159–175. van de Bruinhorst, G. C. (2007). ‘Raise our voices and kill your animals: Islamic discourses on the Iddel. Hajj and Sacrifices in Tanga (Tanzania): Authoritative Texts, Ritual Practices and Social Identities. PhD Thesis, Amsterdam University, Amsterdam.

Chapter 8

Merit-Making Rationales and Motivations

Abstract This chapter considers the range of rationales that motivate Muslims in Cabetigo to generate, accumulate and transfer merit. Merit-making rationales relate to beliefs about a Muslim’s obligations to Allah and the deceased, and the efficacious operations of merit in dunio and alam al-barzakh. Those who fulfill their ritual obligations to Allah are rewarded with merit. Merit accumulated in dunio contributes to the one’s comfort in the grave. A second set of merit-making rationales relate to both obligations to the deceased and the ability for bun or pahalo to be transferred to those in the grave. A major concern in this chapter is to highlight the lack of consensus in Cabetigo concerning the correct and effective means for assisting the dead. The third and final merit-making rationale considered below is the operation of merit in dunio to assist the living. The generation, accumulation and transference of merit in Cabetigo resemble an economy of merit which I compare with conventional economic activity. This chapter concludes by delineating the Thai influences and Islamic credentials of Muslim merit making in Cabetigo.

Introduction Having provided details about how bun or pahalo are generated through the discrete merit-making elements and merit-generating ritual complexes in the previous three chapters, the focus below is the merit-making rationales of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents. In other words, what motivates Muslims to generate, accumulate and transfer merit in the ways I have described? I have already argued that Burr conflated merit-making rhetoric and rationales leading her to surmise that Theravada Buddhism provided the template for Songkhla Muslims to make merit. Although Scupin is one of the few to offer an explanation of merit-making motivation, he does no more than speculate that the motivation may be due to the “enduring presence of the Theravada Buddhist tham bun practices which are used to build up stocks of merit and are central to Thai life in Bangkok”. As such, “The sociocultural milieu created by the dominant Thai Buddhist population has had consequences for the types of ritual maintained by the Thai Muslims” (Scupin, 1978, p. 149). Regardless of how merit is produced, the deceased have consistently been referred to be its recipients. Indeed, certain rituals were specifically concerned with making merit for the deceased. Other rituals, however, were more concerned with C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_8,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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the needs of the living in dunio, supporting the connections between merit-making, luck and blessing argued for by Patya and Nishii. This discussion of merit-making rationales begins with a consideration of motivations of fulfilling obligations to Allah, and making personal preparations for alam al-barzakh. This includes an important treatment of alam al-barzakh where the comfort of the deceased is in proportion to the weight of the merit accumulated by them in dunio. The second merit-making rationale relates to the obligations of the living to transfer bun or pahalo to the deceased in alam al-barzakh, which I refer to as merit transference. While awaiting resurrection and judgment, merit transferred to those in the grave positively increases their comfort by reducing any torture (Ar. adhad al-gabr) they might be suffering. Finally, merit transfers to the deceased from the living positively influences their vindication at judgment when their merit is weighed. The third and final merit-making rationale considered below relates to the efficacy of merit in dunio. Muslims also tham bun with a niat that the living will be protected and have good luck or material blessings (PM. riski). The argument is that these details suggest the presence in Cabetigo of an economy of merit. I delineate how the production, accumulation and transfers of bun or pahalo resemble conventional economic activity. This chapter concludes with a reconsideration of the Thai influences and Islamic credentials of this economy of merit.

Obligations to Allah and Preparations for Alam Al-Barzakh Rewards of merit are given by Allah to those who fulfill their ritual obligations. The principal way through which Muslims in Cabetigo incrementally increase their personal store of bun or pahalo is through the performance of ama ‘ibadat’s wajib or fardu ritual elements. The lack of consensus concerning how appropriate it is to refer to fardu prayers, Ramadan’s wajib abstinences, and the haj as tham bun is intriguing for the following reasons. Merit from wajib ritual elements is regarded as ontologically superior to merit from supererogatory equivalents. As ritual obligations, their non-performance produce demerit (PM. doso, Th. baap). Merit from supererogatory ritual performances complements (rather than replaces) the wajib, as curry complements rice. Although some assert that tham bun best denotes sunnat ritual performances, others refer to the wajib as the centre-post (Th. saw lak, PM. thiye) of their incremental accruement of merit (Th. tham bun). Beliefs about the first of merit’s three efficacious operations correspond to the need to fulfill ritual obligations to Allah. Regardless of how merit is made, the weight of merit personally accumulated in dunio affects a Muslim’s comfort in alam al-barzakh (described below), and their vindication at the final judgment. While ritual obligations are of unparallelled importance in an individual’s merit-generation, merit is also made through the range of supererogatory rituals. Although many of these perform a number of functions, one of them is the

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accruement of additional merit. Does this suggest that the fulfillment of ritual obligations is insufficient to ensure eschatological vindication? Some supererogatory prayers and fasts were performed to ensure that the maximum amount of merit from wajib observances was received. Informants related that the merit produced from semaye sunnat performed before and after each fardu prayer and the 6-day sunnat fast undertaken after Hari Rayo patched leaks of merit caused by any imperfect in their performances. Some undertake this supererogatory fast despite being unaware of any imperfections in their wajib observance. An important motivation is the belief that this 6-day fast will receive a year’s worth of merit. Does this suggest that the Ramadan scale of merit does not come to an abrupt end on the first of Shawwal? Alternatively, does this reveal a lack of clarity or confidence in the adequacy of Ramadan? While a small number in Cabetigo may fail to observe even the modest list of Ramadan’s wajib abstinences, the vast majority perform a plethora of supererogatory ritual performances that are rewarded according to the Ramadan scale. Ramadan annually offers an unrivalled opportunity to top up (PM. tamoh, Th. songserm) one’s personal store of merit. Muslims make additional merit in a variety of ways once all ritual obligations have been fulfilled. In Cabetigo, the strategies employed are affected by a number of factors. These include the level of Islamic education, discretionary income, gender, occupation and reformist or traditionalist orientation. Although sedekoh and Qur’anic readings and recitations are rewarded with merit, it is important to note that these may primarily motivated by broader ethical imperatives and expressions of devotion. How does bun or pahalo assist the dead in the grave (PM. alam kubor, alam albarzakh)? Barzakh refers to an isthmus, interval or barrier, while the phrase alam al-barzakh denotes the barrier separating the living and the dead that eventually came to be refer to as the “time/place occupied by the deceased while awaiting the day of resurrection” (Smith, 1980, p. 226). The dead are linked to dunio, but are incapable of mixing with the living. Indeed, one of the few references to al-barzakh in the Qur’an relates the dead requesting to return to the land of the living to make right their wrongs—a request that God refuses. Instead Allah imposes a barzakh that exists until the day of resurrection.1 Leor Halevi provides a detailed discussion of how Muslim conceptions of alam al-barzakh developed in the first Islamic century (2007). Alam al-barzakh occupied the middle ground in the tripartite schema of al-dunya, alam al-barzakh, and al-akhirat. Alam al-barzakh eventually became the “antechamber of al-akhirat” sharply divided from al-dunya and al-akhirat. Although acquiring a status of its own, alam al-barzakh was not “entirely independent from al-dunya and al-akhirat, yet of comparable stature”. It was a liminal gateway to the hereafter expanded into a “halfway house between life on Earth and salvation” (2007, p. 213). In other words, alam al-barzakh developed from a boundary line between dunio and akhirat into a boundary space. Graves were part of this world, but those inhabiting them were

1

Surahs 23:100, 25:53 and 55:20.

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ruled by the laws of another world. These graves resembled “way-stations of the hereafter” where the corpse not only possessed the ability to hear the living from the tomb, but could also be assisted by their prayers (Halevi, 2007, pp. 217, 226).2 This led Ragnar Eklund to famously refer to alam al-barzakh as a “rare product on the eschatology market” (1941, p. 82, quoted in Halevi, 2007, p. 216).

Obligations to the Deceased and Merit-Transference Merit is the reward Allah gives to all who fulfill their obligations. Through both a range of wajib and supererogatory ritual performances, Muslims accumulate bun or pahalo while in dunio that contributes to a comfortable existence in akhirat. While the obligation and efficacious operation of merit are the most familiar, other beliefs motivate Muslims in Cabetigo to make merit in the ways described. Some are specifically concerned with merit transference to the deceased in alam al-barzakh. As obligations to Allah correspond to this first efficacious operation of merit, obligations to the dead relate to the second. Although the weight of bun or pahalo personally accumulated in dunio determines one’s initial comfort in alam al-barzakh, the living are capable of positively contributing to the deceased’s ongoing comfort, as well as their ultimate vindication at judgment when their merit is weighed. While reformists and traditionalists agree that the living are obliged to make merit for the dead, disagreement exists between them about who is obliged to make merit and on the efficacy of merit transference by non-relatives. Both traditionalists and reformists agree that anok soleh are obligated to make merit for deceased parents. Both offer equally eloquent explanations of how merit is automatic transferred to deceased parents by anok soleh. No such agreement exists either the efficacy of merit transference by non-anok soleh, or on the methods of merit transference that do not conform to the sunnah. Traditionalists assert that all are obligated to make merit for the deceased, and that the efficacy of merit transference is ensured by a recipient’s name being included in all accompanying niat and du’o. Reformists in Cabetigo participate in semaye mayat, the burial in the kubor, and continue to offer prayers for God’s mercy on the deceased. However, few attend the regime of funeral feasts that follow the burial. Some traditionalists view attending funeral feasts as simply a courtesy. Others consider this an important community obligation. Reformist rejection of funeral feasts has contributed to the alienation, antipathy—and occasional animosity—between these constituencies in Cabetigo. Similar to the situation described by Telle in Lombok (2000, pp. 798–799), some traditionalists in Cabetigo have re-conceptualised funeral feasts. Whereas ceremonial food may once have been viewed by some as feeding the dead, this now does no more than provide nourishment for the merit-makers gathered to ngatek, recite the

2

Eklund thus referred to the dead being “perpetually at home to receive visitors”.

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Qur’an and offer du’o for the deceased. All these generate what those in the most urgent need require—bun or pahalo. Traditionalists in Cabetigo also make merit for the dead by hiring non-anok soleh ritual specialists. Tok pakir may be hired to read the Qur’an, either in the house of the deceased, in the kubor at burial, or over the grave in the kubor over the first 7 days of burial (PM. jago kubor). Some tok babo receive a monthly stipend for reading the Qur’an for the deceased, while others are approached to read (PM. baco) a surah over rice bought as a sedekoh. For less than 20,000 Thai baht, a tok seh can be hired to posthumously perform the haj for the deceased (PM. wa’ upoh haji). Tok guru or Tok ime preside over semaye mayat, burials and funeral feasts. Although reformists have no quibbles with the automatic transfer of merit made to parents in the alam al-barzakh by anok soleh, all forms of merit transference that do not conform to the sunnah are considered to be ineffective. Reformers have advocated that all illegitimate forms of merit transference be replaced with functional substitutes conforming to the sunnah. The two most important of these are sedekoh jariyah with the estate of the deceased and posthumously repetitions of the haj by anok soleh. It should be noted that in addition to concerns about religious orthopraxy, some of Cabetigo’s reformist constituency also cite financial reasons for their abandonment of certain merit transference strategies. Funeral feasts are expensive. More merit will be generated from making sedekoh jariyah or contributing this to the costs of posthumous performance of the haj. One might therefore refer to these anok soleh wanting to get the get as much bun out of their baht as possible. The manner in which merit flows between anok soleh and deceased parents makes it difficult—if not impossible—to distinguish being preparing for one’s future in the grave and assisting deceased parents already there. This is also demonstrated by the fact that praying for Allah’s forgiveness and mercy on the deceased is also considered meritorious for the person praying. In other words, for anok soleh, the personal accumulation of merit and merit transference to deceased parents are inseparable. Clarity about the obligations of anok soleh and the automatic transference of merit between them and deceased parents explain the following. First, most Muslim parents in Cabetigo are concerned that their children are able to perform all rituals obligations and read the Qur’an before reaching the age of religious responsibility. By doing so, their children will be able to assist them in the grave. Secondly, many religious minimalists in Cabetigo increase their level of religious observance following the death of a parent. Thirdly, those able to afford the costs of the haj fulfill this obligation as soon as possible, so as to be able to perform this again on behalf of any parents who has not done so themself. The living are able to transfer merit to the deceased as alam al-barzakh is less of a destination as a point of transition toward an after-life that could be blessed or cursed. This process will be most painful for the wicked, whose spirit is violently extracted from the body by terrifying angels. After a brief tour of the here-after, the spirit is placed in the grave until the final judgment. Over this time, sinners suffer torture. By comparison, the spirits of Muslims who prayed diligently, and performed

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good deeds, experience alam al-barzakh as a blessed existence and a foretaste of paradise. Smith observed that those who have discussed religious works in Islam have either dichotomised faith and works or inadequately translated the important concept of iman as faith. Rendering iman as “conviction” or “affirmation” brings into focus actions that affirm convictions. Islam’s earliest and most important messages were that God is one, and humans are accountable to him. Therefore, human immortality in the next world was ensured by ethical responsibility in this one (1977, pp. 87, 89). The Qur’an provides few details about what happens between death and resurrection. These are supplied by a range of Islamic traditions of varying authenticity and reliability.3 These traditions describe that those who arrive in the grave are interrogated by the angels Munkar and Nakir. Those possessing unfavourable records of merit are tortured, referred to as adhab al-qabr. No consensus exists on whether this torture in the grave fulfills retributive or purgatorial functions. Smith views these traditions to be more instructive than descriptive. They teach the “now-ness of human ethical responsibility”, which should impact how Muslims live life in dunio. Also taught are the realities of accountability and recompense in alam al-barzakh (1977, p. 88). There is unanimity that the severity and duration of adhab al-qabr is in proportion to a Muslim’s sins and the extent to which they were “counterbalanced by repentance, pious works, and a sound faith”. During their time in dunio, Muslims accumulated a record of good deeds: “these supererogatory works, alongside acts of worship (‘ibadat), accumulated in a savings account toward retirement in the grave” (Halevi, 2007, p. 231). Some are exempt from adhab al-qabr. These include prophets, martyrs, people who earned martyr status by suffering a painful death, Muslims who read Surat alMulk (Qur’an 67) every night, and those who die on Fridays or during Ramadan. Furthermore, those subjected to torture receive a respite once a week on Friday, when the gates of gehanna are shut and the living gather to pray for the dead (Halevi, 2007, pp. 119, 212, 222, 226). While all suffering torture in the grave benefit from the intercession of the Prophet, and God’s sovereign mercy (mentioned below), the death manuals of Ibn Abi al-Dunya (d. 894) promulgated a number of traditions. Halevi refers to these as “powerful creative fictions” that included assertions that prayer, fasting, readings of the Qur’an, and remembrance of God were all capable of preventing torture (2007, p. 198). Does the welfare of the deceased in the grave rest solely on their own deeds in dunio? How do the deceased benefit from the actions of the living? What about God’s mercy? Whilst Qur’anic redactors forwarded an “austere monotheistic reaction to pagan rituals”, compilers of the hadith “espoused a number of popular ceremonies”, one of which was that serving the dead was meritorious (2007, p. 207).

3 The most important of these are medieval death manuals imparting moral lessons to the living, written by Ibn Abi al-Dunya (d. 894), al-Ghazali (d. 1111), Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350) and al-Suyuti (d. 1505).

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Further complicating matters is that not all people are equally deserving of God’s mercy. As such, prayers for the dead should not be doled out indiscriminately. The deserving must first be identified (2007, pp. 228–230). While prohibiting praying for hypocrites and unbelievers, first century Islamic traditions are silent on the after-life experience of ordinary people and how one prays for good Muslims. What are provided are examples of “very good and exceptionally bad ends”. These either enticed or terrified human beings into adopting a more rewarding life (2007, p. 200). Halevi suggests that following the rise of Islam, Islamic rituals may not have “altogether displaced jahili rituals, which continued to operate, though in an altered frame of reference”. The simultaneous transformation of old rituals and development of new one integrally shaped Islamic history by re-energising “Muslims in their commitment to the cause of Islam” (2007, pp. 235, 239). One would be rewarded with religious reward (Ar. ajr) by visits to the graves of the deserving to read the Qur’an and to pray for them. It is important to point out that transferring merit to the dead should not be confused with ziyarat al-qabr through which the live seek baraka (Ar. spiritual blessing) from the dead. As is well known, this was a practice vehemently opposed by Ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328) and his followers—both ancient and modern. It should be pointed out, however, that not even Ibn Taymiyya denied the merits of the grave (see Beranek & Tupek, 2009). While fearful that some of these practices too closely resembled pre-Islamic and Christian veneration of the dead, Ibn Taymiyya’s main objection was that these emulated attempts to attain God’s grace through means other than pious acts. Post-Qur’anic death rituals and mythologies asserted that gifts to the dead belonged to neither the economy of this world nor the hereafter. They were elements of the between and betwixt economy of alam al-barzakh (2007, pp. 107, 113).

The Efficacy of Merit on Dunio Not only does merit assist the merit-maker in alam al-barzakh and the deceased already there, it also operates in dunio. I revealed how semaye hajat, sedekoh, mawlid, house-warming feasts and general tham bun feasts all played some part in attempts by Cabetigo’s Muslim residents to dispel bad luck, seek good fortune, provide protection, or bring (spiritual) blessings or (material) riski. Some made a sedekoh with something as small as a packet of rice along with a niat and du’o for a need (PM. hajat) that the merit-maker—or some other named individual—was facing.4 The potency of this sedekoh might also be bolstered by reading an ayat over it. Some informants claimed that the merit made by even the smallest sedekoh

4 Benjamin Soares, in his study of Islam in Mali, notes that in addition to people generally seeking to “assure their place in the next world” they frequently wish to “obtain merit and God’s blessings in the world in which they are living as well” (1996, p. 744).

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increases the efficacy of du’o offered. My arguments that tham bun feasts represent highly ritualised sedekoh of food augmented by a range of powerful and meritorious speech-acts are corroborated by the primary concern of certain forms of sedekoh and merit-making feasts being the needs of the living.

A Muslim Economy of Merit These merit-making rationales suggest the existence in Cabetigo of an economy of merit, a concept that Buddhist scholars routinely refer to. Charles Keyes, for example, likened bun to spiritual insurance (1983, pp. 267, 270), while Richard Gombrich referred to it as a spiritual currency held in a “kind of spiritual bank account from which one can make payments to others” (Gombrich, 1971, p. 204; 1988, p. 125).5 Less well known, is that anthropologists studying Muslim societies have also compared economic and religious activity in this manner. Tapper and Tapper comment upon the attitudes of a “calculating, mechanical” nature in which merit is sought through “set prayers or specific good works, to acquire quantities of merit (sevab) to offset the quantities of sin (giinah)”. Such manipulative attitudes are fostered by the religious establishment. However, whether or not ordinary people enter paradise remains the central mystery of Turkish faith (1987, p. 83). Marjo Buitelaar’s study of Ramadan in Morocco (1993), and Willy Jansen’s study of Algerian women (2004), both mention the economy of religious reward (Ar. ajr). Sergei Abashin’s study of Islam in Tajikistan described “the market of religious merit” in which religious goods are “produced, reproduced, stored and distributed” and consumers satisfy their needs. Furthermore, there is competition between religious authorities who compete to receive payment for “various religious services”. The size of these payments depend on the “level of symbolic capital that these religious practitioners are able to command” (2007, p. 269). What are the similarities between the cosmic capital of merit and conventional currency and what factors affect the manner in which Muslims engage in the economy of merit? Similar to the money represented by a printed bank balance, bun or pahalo is invisible. Nevertheless, merit is as countable and transferable as conventional cash. It may be both accumulated and lost. A Thai Muslim convert originally from northeast Thailand, recounted that she explained merit to her daughter by saying, “We can’t see this merit, but in the next life we will see its benefit. When we die, this merit will help us find peace”. A Malay man in his 40s pointed out that “We can’t see bun. However, Allah has promised ‘if you do this, you will receive bun. . .’ But

5 Those interested in descriptions of a Buddhist economy of merit should consult the following studies by Brekke (1998), Falk (2007), Kirsch (1973), Lehman (1989; 1996), Lehtonen (2000), McCleary (2007), Samuels (2008), Tannenbaum and Kammerer (1996) and Walsh (2007).

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this merit that has been promised, we can’t see it. When we have faith, we must be confident in God. Allah doesn’t break his promises like people!” My descriptions of merit-making rituals have made repeated references to estimates about how much merit has been made. Muhammad Qasim Zaman recounts traditions about the merit earned by participating in funerals. Those who follow a funeral procession and pray over the deceased receive one qirat of merit. Those staying until the burial is completed are rewarded with two. The Prophet likened a qirat to a mountain. A qirat is normally designated the 20th or the 24th part of a dirham—something used to signify that a thing is of little value. Thus, Muhammad Qasim Zaman comments, “The use of this to denote something as big and imposing as a ‘mountain’ represents . . . an interesting inversion of meaning” (2001, p. 28).6 Merit is like capital (Th. ngern thun, PM. moda). An informant once described merit as gold—only superior to it: “In the hereafter (PM. akhirat), you can’t use or need money or gold—you need bun”. When I asked a Malay informant if he would receive merit from his performance of semaye he answered, “It’s up to Tuhe (PM. God). It’s like making an investment. Semaye is like investing one baht. Our profit will be more than that though”. A wealthy Cabetigo resident who owned a number of rubber plantations utilized the metaphor of trees in a plantation to explain merit: “Merit is like growing fruit. If we plant just 10 trees, our fruit will be less than the person who plants 200 trees. If we plant four rai of rubber, the rubber we get will be more than if we planted just one rai.7 This is what pahalo or bun is like”. Expressing similar sentiments, another commented on pahalo being like, “Fruit from an orchard. Sometimes we get lots of fruit. When this happens, we say Alhumdulilah! There are some years, however, when we don’t get much, but we still say Alhumdulilah!”. Merit also resembles money needed for a long journey. An elderly Malay woman explained, “Making merit in this life is like going on a long journey. If you are going on a long journey, we need more than 10 baht. You have to save as much money as you can for a long journey”. Adequate savings increase one’s sense of security about the future, especially when one’s comfort depends entirely on how much you has saved. Unlike a bank balance, however, the amount of merit one possesses is a mystery known only to Allah. Incorrect actions, inaccurate utterances, and inadequate ikhalah all lead to less merit being yielded. I have shown that leaks of merit from fardu prayers and fasts may be patched by sunnat prayers and the fasts associated with them. Merit is also lost through demerit debits that resemble cash withdrawals from a bank account. Indeed, Marjo Buitelaar described the presence of “transactionalist and pragmatic attitudes” among Moroccan women which 6

Muhammad Qasim Zaman quotes a second prophetic tradition involving qirat and the mountain of Uhud states: “He who recites 100 verses [from the Qur’an] will not be reckoned among the heedless (Ar. ghafiluin); [the name of one] who recites 200 will be written among the devout (Ar. qanitun); one who recites 300 will be written among the upright (Ar. qa imfn); and for one who recites 400, there will be a qintar—a qintar is 100 mithqal, a mithqal is 20 qirat, and a qirat is like Uhud” (2001, p. 28). 7 1,600 m2 .

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suggested the image of God as an accountant who keeps records of receipts and expenditure (1993, p. 124). Having compared conventional and cosmic capital, what are the similarities between conventional economic activities and how Muslims in Cabetigo generate, accumulate and transfer merit? Although merit may be transferred to others like cash remittances, work remains the normative means through which one increases conventional and cosmic capital. Not all work is equally rewarded. Although some view the wajib as doing nothing more than fulfilling one’s obligations, others in Cabetigo view these obligations as generating large amounts of superior quality merit. Sunnat performances resemble work done to supplement one’s full-time job, suggesting that some regard performances of the wajib as inadequate for securing a comfortable future. Where and when religious works are performed also affects the size of the reward received. Fardu prayers performed alone in one’s house receive less than those in mosques. Both these are a fraction of what one will receive when in Mecca’s Masyid Al-Haram. Not all waktu are equally meritorious, and all waktu generate the most merit on Fridays.8 The presence of the Ramadan scale of merit means that all meritorious actions performed during the fast month are more generously rewarded than in any other month. Time and place are both important to the haj performed at Islam’s holiest places over the 5 days from the eighth of Dhu al-Hijjah. The haj fulfills the most expensive of Islam’s five ritual obligations. Besides fulfilling the first pillar of Islam, the haj is referred to as the biggest merit-making event of a life-time. This is due to all meritorious acts performed before and after the 5-day haj benefitting from Mecca multiplications of merit, which all repetitions of the haj or performances of the umroh also benefit from. A rare example of a sunnat performance yielding as much merit as its wajib equivalent is when the holy month of Ramadan is rigorously observed in the Islam’s sacred centre. Although less dramatically, all meritorious acts performed on Fridays are more generously rewarded than on other days. Most consider more merit to be yielded from performances of the semaye in older mosques than in those that have been recently constructed. Just as one’s social status, level of education, age, gender and occupation have some affect how one makes conventional cash, they also influence how Muslims earn religious rewards through religious works. I have highlighted the importance of sedekoh for Cabetigo’s petty traders (PM. ore meneko), and that Ramadan is less taxing for Cabetigo’s many unemployed than day-labourers. Making money sometimes requires money to be spent. Similarly, some methods of merit-making require a financial investment. Those with well remunerated occupations make merit in ways which are inaccessible to the poor. Those with an income of 20,000 baht can finance their haj with a loan from an Islamic bank, and Thai civil servants receive a 1-month paid leave of absence to perform the haj. While pilgrimages to Mecca are the most expensive method of merit generation that have been

8

Similar points are make by Marion Katz (2007, pp. 143–168).

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described, prayers, fasts, Qur’anic readings and recitations, and small kindnesses cost nothing to perform. Conventional cash may also be required when making merit for the dead. Small sedekoh might be given to ritual specialists like tok pakir, tok ime, tok guru or tok babo who read the Qur’an, lead semaye hajat, preside over a feast, or bless a sedekoh of rice. More substantial payments are required when hiring people to jago kubor, or posthumously perform the haj for a deceased relative (PM. wa’ upoh haji). The funds expended by Be Kuding’s family are somewhere between the extremes paid by the families of Pok Nik and Pok Wae. Although the merit-making rationale for Pok See’s Pakistani family differed from the Malay case studies, the cost of Pok See’s son posthumously performing the haj for him exceeded all the combined expenses incurred by Pok Wae’s family. Decisions to hire experts are sometimes necessitated by an individual’s lack of religious expertise. Some are incapable of fulfilling their obligations to the deceased without hiring specialists. A rudimentary Islamic education enables Muslims to avoid the haram, manage defilement, and perform the wajib. Performing fardu prayers requires the memorisation of Arabic prayers and short surahs. Ramadan’s wajib abstinences and poso sunnat require neither Islamic education nor funds. Many with limited Islamic education in Cabetigo emphasise making merit through sedekoh. While the limited religious expertise and modest incomes of many ore meneko are both important reasons for sedekoh among petty traders, other reasons exist. Through sedekoh, petty traders generate the merit that accompanies requests for material blessings (PM. riski). Most ore meneko in Cabetigo are women. This introduces the issue of how gender affects Muslim merit making.9 Men in Cabetigo emphasise performing fardu prayers in mosques and prayer rooms, and are more likely to make sedekoh with money. Women not only pray in mosques less frequently, but most often make sedekoh with some form of food. While mawlid and funeral feasts in Cabetigo are attended exclusively by men, both men and women attend house-warmings and some general tham bun feasts. Men might be permitted to perform the haj by themselves, but single women must be accompanied by a relative. Merit-making in Cabetigo is also influenced by one’s age. The older Muslims in Cabetigo become, the more concerned they are about whether their merit will be sufficient to secure a comfortable existence in alam al-barzakh. Questions might also be raised about how well their children will fulfill their obligations to transfer merit to them. Some of Cabetigo elderly residents express quiet confidence, while others confess to occasionally intense anxiety. As they age, some actively increase the size and frequency of merit deposits and limit their demerit debits. Those in Cabetigo who are least fearful about their comfort in alam al-barzakh are devout, educated Muslims. Many of these have been brought up by devout parents who also provided a more than adequate Islamic education. Many of them have not only performed

9

For studies emphasising gendered piety among Thai Muslim women refer to Marddent (2007), Merli (2009) and Prachuabmoh (1980, 1989a, 1989b).

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the haj, but also repetitions and visits to Mecca to perform umroh. Such confidence resembles the financial security of a full pension provided by a benevolent employer to employees who have fulfilled all contractual obligations. Although some may view too much money to be a bad thing, no such attitude towards merit exists. Cabetigo residents returning from Mecca are emphatic that the spiritual rewards more than justifying the considerable financial cost. For those lacking the financial means to benefit from Mecca’s multiplications of merit, Ramadan is annually welcomed as a gracious provision. Like conventional economy activity, aspects of the economy of merit are controversial. What is viewed by some in Cabetigo as mildly controversial is categorically condemned by others. The most conservative reformists regard the sunnah as providing a mandate for merit transference. This leads them to categorically reject the efficacy of merit transference performed by non-anok soleh. Remittances of merit by anok soleh resemble financial remittances to parents. While some children may begin financial remittances upon receiving their first pay cheque, many in Cabetigo assume financial responsibility for parents once they have retired. Similarly, anok soleh accept that new forms or responsibility exist once their parents cease making merit for themselves in dunio. Regardless of the size of a parent’s personal store of cosmic capital at death, anok soleh incrementally contribute to this. Parents are prayed for. The intercession of the Prophet is sought. Although the efficacy of merit transference by non-anok soleh is not be accepted by all in Cabetigo, traditionalists accept this practice as effective for the recipient and meritorious for the merit-maker. They argue that such good deeds voluntarily made to those whom one is under no obligation to help can only be effective. Having described the economy of merit in Cabetigo, and considered the factors that have impacted how Cabetigo’s Muslim residents engage in merit making, the Islamic credentials and Thai influences of this Muslim economy of merit are delineated below.

Thai Influences and Islamic Credentials Reconsidered The selective appropriation of tham bun merit-making rhetoric in Cabetigo attests to the growth of Thai influence in Malay South Thailand. While merit is straightforwardly translated as either bun or pahalo, the argument is that tham bun is only awkwardly translated into Malay. Bilingual Malays in South Thailand might occasionally refer to wa’ pahalo when speaking among themselves, but Malaysians would find this phrase highly unusual. More importantly, wa’ pahalo is incapable of expressing the range of meanings of tham bun. Malay-speakers employ Malay specific terms to denote the merit-generating performances. By contrast, instead of the specific Thai terms for religious rituals, Thai-speaking Muslims in Cabetigo often refer to tham bun. Over and above the specific generation of bun, tham bun is a Thai religious idiom commonly employed when referring to religious activity, some of which may be unrelated to the generation of merit.

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While supererogatory rituals are referred to as tham bun by all in Cabetigo, there is no such consensus about whether this should be used to describe wajib or fardu ritual obligations. Some claim that Fardu prayers, Ramadan wajib abstinences, and the haj are all ritual performances which are within tham bun semantic field. Furthermore, Allah rewards the performance of these fardu ain (Ar. personal obligations) with bun or pahalo. Those who object point out that as fardu ain, these do no more than fulfill one’s obligations to Allah. Considered in the context of past refusals by Malays in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat to adopt Thai as a language of Islamic discourse, this is a remarkable development. Nonetheless, in light of the Patani’s adhesion to Islam this adoption of Thai merit-making rhetoric by Malays in Cabetigo may be nothing more than a recent example of a well-established strategy of engaging with outside influences. I have commented that many of the Thai and Malay terms considered draw from Indic conceptual wells: the former via Pali, and the latter through Sanskrit. Prayer may be referred to in Cabetigo as semaye (PM.) or lamaat (Th.), but only rarely as salat. Likewise, fasting is most commonly referred to as poso, occasionally sin ot (Th.), but almost never with the Arabic term saum. Although a Thai equivalent for sedekoh exists, even Thai Muslims in Cabetigo refer to charitable acts as sedekoh. This may be partly explained by sedekoh being a word of Arabic origin, which Ricci refers to as an element of Southeast Asia’s Arabic cosmopolis (2010, 2011). Malay contains many Arabic terms, but countless Sanskrit such as sembahyang, puasa and pahala, which were retrained and Islamised, but became default terms over Arabic equivalents.10 Although rural Malay communities are less affected by Thai modernity than Malays in Cabetigo, the spread of Thai influences continues to grow in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. While having led to increasing numbers of Malays to express Islamic thoughts in Thai, their religious rhetoric is also replete with Islamic ideation. All potential merit-generating performances must be prefaced by a niat in order for bun or pahalo to be made. A niat also specifies the names of the living or deceased that the merit-maker intends to assist. Any cash used in generating this cosmic cash must be from halal sources. Money obtained through corruption, illicit business activities or exploitation is haram. Should this be used, no merit would be yielded. This is as true when buying a 15 baht packet of rice, as a sedekoh or funding a feast costing thousands. Those who manufacture merit through the sedekoh are rigorously scrutinised for their sincerity or ikhalah. Are they making merit (tham bun) or making face (tham naa)? Qur’anic readings and recitations and semaye may receive less bun or pahalo should these not be done with ikhalah. If Arabic prayers are incorrectly recited, or rituals being performed in a state of ritual defilement, these potently meritoriousness performances are invalidated.

10 Those interested in the influence of Sanskrit and Arabic on Malay should consult works by Sneddon (2003, pp. 37–38, 51–52, 72–76, 167–172) and Tham Seong Chee (1990).

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Similar to Islamic ideation challenging syncretic assessments of tham bun merit-making rhetoric, the logic of merit accumulation (by the living), and merit transference (for the dead), merit-making rationales, are informed by a thoroughly Islamic cosmology.11 Readers have been introduced to the concepts of dunio whose epicenter is the Ka’bah, situated at the centre of Mecca’s Al-Haram mosque in Mecca. Nearby are the holy sites relating to the haj and umroh. An Islamic cosmology as informs the following tri-partite division of the world is: dunio, alam al-barzakh and akhirat. In addition to place, Islamic cosmology informs conceptions of both space and time. Once children reach the age of religious responsibility, they most begin to fulfill their ritual duties to Allah. Anok soleh become responsible for a parent’s comfort in alam al-barzakh following their burial. Certain obligatory and supererogatory merit-generating rituals are performed on a daily basis. Some fardu prayers are more meritorious than others. Other elements of ‘ibadat are performed once a week. Friday might be a day of unparallelled importance, but some perform poso sunnat on Mondays and Thursdays. The mawlid season annually arrives, as does the holy month of Ramadan, and the haj. Although Ramadan is undisputedly the holiest month of the year, certain days in Ramadan are holier than others. As Marion Katz comments, “The idea that time is inherently patterned, with some days or months intrinsically privileged over others, is deeply rooted in the Islamic tradition” (2007, p. 143). Although all but ignored in extant explanations of Muslim merit-making in Thailand, the importance of ‘ibadat in merit-generation is another reason for viewing the economy of merit in Cabetigo to be thoroughly Islamic. While in dunio, Cabetigo’s Muslim residents primarily accumulate cosmic capital for alam al-barzakh through Islam’s diverse and interconnected ritual repertoire. I have shown salat, readings and recitations of the Qur’an, and sedekoh as “discrete” merit-generating elements, despite significant connections existing between them. Qur’anic surahs are not only recited during the salat, but may also be used to bless sedekoh. The Qur’an is also connected with semaye taroweh performed after Iso during Ramadan, where the entire 30 juz of the Qur’an are recited at some mosques. These elements are present in a number of merit-making complexes that have been described. Whilst Ramadan’s abstinences and the 5-day haj fulfill obligations, the religious significance of Ramadan and all pilgrimages to Mecca are that all meritorious deeds performed are more generously rewarded during this sacred month and in Islam’s holy places. Although the principal means through which Muslims generate merit are the globally normative that were once widely viewed as ethnographically uninteresting, my description of Muslim merit-making has being both enriched and complicated through its inclusion of merit-generating feasting complexes. I have followed Mark

11 This issue is one which features in Stephen Headley’s studies of Islam in Central Java (2000, 2001, 2004).

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Woodward (1988) by arguing that Southeast Asian feasting complexes possess Islamic credentials. Furthermore, like Ramadan and pilgrimages, these are complexes that generate merit through the recitals of the Qur’an, readings of the zanji, a range of chants and offering du’o. The only constant—and most important— element is the highly ritualised sedekoh of the food with which all these feasts conclude. When donations towards the cost of the feast are expected, no merit is generated. This is despite such social feasts sometimes confusingly being referred to as tham bun. Other reasons exist for emphasising the Islamic credentials of these merit-making rationales. No one in Cabetigo contends that one’s comfort in alam al-barzakh and vindication of punishment after judgment are primarily determined by how well obligations to Allah have been fulfilled, and the degree to which Muslims have acted ethically and mercifully towards others. Nevertheless, Islam provides a number of gracious provisions. The first is the manner in which Allah rewards meritorious acts. Enormous amounts of merit may be made once a year during the holy month of Ramadan. Those with the financial means may undertake a range of pilgrimages where the rewards from all meritorious acts are multiplied. The second gracious provision is that the deceased in alam al-barzakh continue to receive merit from the living in dunio. Although no one disputes that the living are capable of and obligated to transfer merit to the deceased, there is disagreement about who may do so. As such, one must refer to a range of merit-making rationales existing in Cabetigo. Both traditionalists and reformists may emphasise that merit is automatically transferred to deceased parents by anok soleh. However, the former assert that non-anok soleh are also capable of assisting the deceased, by transferring merit to named recipients in their niat and du’o. My arguments that this economy of merit is essentially Islamic are finally informed by beliefs concerning divine interventions and prophetic intercessions. While the weight of one’s bun or pahalo (in proportion to one’s baap or doso) play a dominant role in determining one’s initial comfort in the grave and eventual vindication at judgment, both the deceased and those praying for them may also appeal to God for mercy and/or the Prophet to intercede. Thai-speaking Muslims may share the same merit-making rhetoric as Buddhists, but comparisons between Muslim and Buddhist merit-making rationales are complicated by the absence in Buddhist cosmology of a merciful and forgiving God. Having argued that Southern Malays and the Thai Muslims of the upper south are leaves of the same tree (Andaya, 2008), I do not regard this economy of merit as an element of what Alexander Horstmann has referred to as a shared cosmology. Horstmann’s proposal is based on Muslims and Buddhists on the Thai/Malay peninsula sharing a number of beliefs, including merit-making and beliefs in ghosts (Th. phi, PM, hatu) (2004, p. 93). This concept better describes similarities that may have existed between Buddhists and Muslims before the impact of reformism and revivalism. It might also be of more heuristic value in Thailand’s Thai-speaking upper southern region that Horstmann is an acknowledged expert in (see 2002, 2007a, 2007b, 2008) rather in than the far-south that this study is situated in.

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Horstmann mentions Muslim beliefs in ghosts. However, as el-Aswad el-Sayed’s study of folk cosmology in Egypt demonstrates (2002, pp. 61–62), these are far from unique to either the Malay peninsula or wider Southeast Asia. Although Indonesian specialists have supplied some of the most in-depth descriptions of Muslim merit transference to date (see Bowen, 1984; 1989; 1993; Möller, 2005a, 2005b; Telle, 2000, 2007, 2009), merit generation, accumulation and transference has also been described by anthropologists working in the wider Muslim world (see Abashin (2007, p. 269), Buitelaar (1993), Jansen (2004), Katz (2007, pp. 143–168), Mahmood (2001, p. 835); Soares (1996, pp. 744, 755), Tapper and Tapper (1987, pp. 79, 83) and van de Bruinhorst (2007). There are other reasons for questioning assertions that Muslim merit-making rationales have developed primarily as a result of contacts between Muslims and Buddhists. Mono-lingual Malays possessing no contacts with Thai Buddhists and no understanding of the function of merit in Theravada Buddhism are capable of equally eloquent explanations of pahalo’s efficacious operations. I also note that case studies of the connections between kinship and feasts in mainland and island Southeast Asia brought together by Monica Janowski and Fiona Kerlogue (2007) reveal, among other things, that merit transference similar to that described above is also sustained by Muslims, Christians, Buddhists and animists throughout mainland and island Southeast Asia. The presence of merit transference beyond Muslims and Buddhists in Southeast Asia might better remind us of the region’s Indic and Austronesian heritages. In less than two generations reformist activism has significantly marginalised the Indic and Austronesian ritual elements through which Muslims in South Thailand used to transfer merit to the dead. Not only do Malays in Cabetigo primarily generate merit for the deceased through Islam’s ritual repertoire, but their rationales for doing so are increasing informed by an Islamic cosmology.

Conclusion The preceding discussion has described the range of beliefs which motivate Muslims in Cabetigo to generate merit in the ways described. As well as questions about the role merit plays in a Muslim’s eschatological vindication (see Scupin, 1978, p. 149) having been answered, it has also been demonstrated that this is one of a number of motivations. Merit-making rationales relate to beliefs about a Muslim’s obligations to Allah, and the deceased, as well as merit’s efficacious operations in dunio and alam al-barzakh. Allah rewards with merit those who fulfill their ritual obligations. More merit may also be added to through a range of supererogatory performances. One’s weight of merit determines the comfort of one’s tenure in the grave. A second merit-making rationale relates to a Muslim’s obligations to the deceased and the ability for merit to be transferred to those in the grave. These transfers of merit both immediately increase the comfort of the deceased and contribute to their ultimate vindication at judgment when their bun or baap are weighed. It has been revealed there is no consensus concerning the correct and effective means of merit-making for the deceased.

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The third and finale merit-making rationale that I have discussed is how merit operates in dunio to assist the prayers of the living for protection, blessing and good fortune. Following other scholars of Buddhism and Islam, the argument is that the generation, accumulation and transference of merit in Cabetigo resembles an economy of merit. How Muslims engage in this economy is affected by social status, education, level of disposable income, gender, age and attitudes to controversial practices. Like conventional currency, merit is earned through work, can be accumulated and transferred, and crucially contributes to security about the future. In considering the Thai influences and Islamic credentials of this Muslim economy of merit, a number of observations have been made. The normative means for making merit was through ‘ibadat and other “Islamicate” feasting complexes. Merit-making motivations, and beliefs about how merit operates in dunio and alam al-barzakh, are all consistent with a thoroughly Islamic cosmology. Although tham bun is a Thai term, Thai Muslim merit-making rhetoric is replete with Arabic terms and Islamic ideation. As merit-making in Cabetigo is thoroughly Islamic, alternatives to the shared cosmology thesis are required and these are put forward in the final chapter.

References Abashin, S. (2007). The logic of Islamic practice: A religious conflict in Central Asia. Central Asian Survey, 25(3), 267–286. Andaya, L. Y. (2008). Leaves of the same tree: Trade and ethnicity in the straits of Melaka. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press. Beranek, O., & Tupek, P. (2009). From visiting graves to their destruction: The question of Ziyara through the eyes of Salafis. In N. Sohrabi (Ed.), Crown center for Middle East studies. Waltham, MA: Brandeis Crown Center for Middle East Studies, Brandeis University. Bowen, J. R. (1984). Death and the history of Islam in Highland Aceh. Indonesia, 38(Oct), 21–38. Bowen, J. R. (1989). Poetic duels and political change in the Gayo Highlands of Sumatra. American Anthropologist, 91(1), 25–40. Bowen, J. R. (1993). Muslims through discourse: Religion and ritual in Gayo society. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Brekke, T. (1998). Contradiction and the merit of giving in Indian Religions. Numen, 45(3), 287–320. Buitelaar, M. (1993). Fasting and feasting in Morocco. Oxford, UK: Berg. Eklund, R. (1941). Life between death and resurrection according to Islam. Uppsala, Sweden: Almqvist & Wiksells. el-Sayed, e.-A. (2002). Religion and folk cosmology: Scenarios of the visible and invisible in rural Egypt. Westport, CT: Praeger. Falk, M. L. (2007). Making fields of merit: Buddhist female ascetics and gendered orders in Thailand. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Gombrich, R. (1971). Merit transference in Sinhalese Buddhism: A case study of the interaction between doctrine and practice. History of Religions, 11(2), 203–219. Gombrich, R. (1988). Theravada Buddhism. A social history from ancient Benares to modern Colombo. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Halevi, L. (2007). Muhammad’s grave: Death rites and the making of Islamic society (History of Religions). New York: Columbia University Press.

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Chapter 9

Conclusion

Abstract Delineating the merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents—identified as principal elements of the Muslim meritmaking puzzle—has revealed the presence in Cabetigo of a Muslim economy of merit. This concluding chapter argues that the rhetorical, ritual and cognitive aspects of Muslim merit-making have all been affected in some manner by the Thai and Islamic influences that began impacting the Thailand’s southern Malays. Islam’s globally ritual repertoire is the normative means through which Muslims in Cabetigo both accumulate merit for themselves and transfer cosmic cash to the deceased. Nonetheless, merit generation, accumulation and transference have amplified importance for Muslims in Cabetigo. Furthermore, the adoption of tham bun religious rhetoric increases the local comprehensibility of Islam in this Malay/Thai cosmopolis. Islam answers questions that ordinary Muslims are asking and scratches where people are itching. This description of Muslim merit-making has been historically grounded, attentive to religious language and inspired by the anthropology of Islam. In this concluding chapter, I reflect on what these have contributed to this study of Muslim meritmaking rhetoric, rituals and rationales which I have identified as the most important pieces in the Muslim merit-making puzzle. This study of Muslim merit-making has paid particular attention to South Thailand’s Indic, Islamic and Thai pasts. These have all had some impact on Cabetigo’s ethnic, linguistic and religious diversity, and the merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales that have been this study’s specific focus. Prior to the AngloSiamese treaty of 1909, Malays in the present-day provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat resembled those found elsewhere on the Malay peninsula (SM. dunio melayu). Like its predecessor Langkasuka, Patani was a Sanskrit cosmopolis before being replaced an Arabic cosmopolis. This transformation began with the adoption of Islam. As “conversion” is commonly misconstrued as a process in which one unambiguously defined religion replaces another, references have been made to a process of adhesion or adoption. This allows for the fact that pre-existing cosmologies were not immediately abandoned (Parkin, 2000, p. 3). Islam circulated between the Middle East and China through trading guilds in which Muslims were well represented. Like other Southeast Asian port city-states involved in the Indian Ocean trade, Islam’s earliest creole ambassadors came to Patani with both goods to trade and ideas to exchange. C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3_9,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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In addition to these Indic and Islamic influences, Patani (like Kedah and Kelantan) was also shaped by her contacts with Ayutthaya and Bangkok. Maziar Mozaffari-Falarti has recently shown that Kedah was also affected by the wars waged during the earliest decades of the Chakri Dynasty (2009). Following the Anglo-Siamese Treaty, Malays in Thailand’s far-south were affected in unique ways by Bangkok’s integration initiatives. In Satun, the transformation from subjects of the Malay kerajaan of Kedah to Thai citizens was less tumultuous than the experienced of Malays in Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. An important reason for this was that Satun did not possess the strong tradition of Islamic scholarship that Patani had long been famous for (Parks, 2009, p. 193). Bangkok’s efforts to integrate the far-south only began in the early 20th century. This coincided with growing influence of modernist, reformist and revivalist Islamic movements. The hijrah to Mecca of many of Patani’s ‘ulama following the defeat of Malay kerajaan by Rama I in 1785, reveals that this was not the first time that Bangkok and Mecca had simultaneously impacted on Thailand’s southern Malays. The arrival of refugees such as Shaykh Daud al-Fatani in Mecca roughly coincided with a time of political revolt and religious reform in the Hijaz. Shaykh Daud alFatani established the Patani School in Mecca. His writings strengthened Patani’s connection with Mecca during a time of crisis and change in both places. His fame began to be rivalled by Shaykh Ahmad whose career coincided with revolutions in transport and communication across the Indian Ocean. Haji Sulong returned to South Thailand in the 1920s. He arrived after two decades of attempts by Bangkok to assimilate Southern Malays. Although Bangkok’s Compulsory Primary Education Act had met stiff resistance, Haji Sulong was also concerned about education. One of his most important achievements was the establishment of Madrasah Al-Ma’arif Al-Wattaniah—the first religious school in Pattani to deviate from the tradition ponok model. In the decade after World War II, Bangkok achieved its first large-scale registration of traditional southern ponok schools. Although unparalleled numbers of Malays learned Thai in the newly established PSTIs, increased numbers also chose to pursue their Islamic education overseas during a period of religious resurgence. Some who returned, introduced the revivalist and reformist movements which they had been exposed to. These developments roughly coincided with the following initiatives by the government led by General Prem Tinsulanonda: amnesties were offered to Malay separatists; concessions were made to some Muslim demands; and Malay elites were co-opted into the Thai political process. Although most in Cabetigo remain either ambivalent about, or opposed to, the reformist agenda, reformist influence on Thailand’s far-south is out of proportion to the number of members. The growing influence of reformism is but one of a number of changes that Muslims in Cabetigo have witnessed since the 1970s. Four decades after Malays in Cabetigo began entering Thai government schools or PSTIs in significant numbers, most are now bilingual. This has led to the development of a new language phenomenon: language loss among young urban Malays. While a highly ethicised version of Islam still exists (Yusuf, 2007, 2009), significant

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shifts have occurred in how some Malays identify themselves, including voluntarily referring to themselves as Thai Muslims (Albritton, 2010). Thailand’s southern Malays have, therefore, been simultaneously incrementally Thai-ised and Islam-ised—both of which have been resisted. Before the 1970s, there was widespread resistance to Bangkok’s language policies. Cabetigo’s traditionalist majority also resisted most elements of the reformist activism. However, Malays now consider themselves to be both better Thai citizens and better Muslims than previous generations. Thai-sation and Islam-isation have affected merit-making rhetoric, rituals and rationales in Cabetigo in distinct ways. Thai-sation has led to the widespread adoption of the Thai religious idiom of tham bun. This study of Muslim merit-making has paid particular attention to the rhetoric aspects of the merit-making conundrum. References by Cabetigo’s Thai-speaking Malays to tham bun aroused my initial interest in Muslim merit-making. My inclusion of Malay merit-making rhetoric was unavoidable, as the vast majority of my informants were bilingual Malays. Comparisons between Thai and Malay merit-making rhetoric provided significant insights about what Muslims do—and do not—mean by tham bun. Asking about what tham bun meant was not the same as asking how Muslims made bun. Over and above the specific generation of bun, tham bun denotes undifferentiated religious activity. While no claims can be made that this is the first study of Muslim meritmaking in Thailand, it is the first study to have pointed out this important rhetorical function. It is difficult, therefore, not to be curious about either the Thai language ability of those involved in previous studies or how effectively research assistants were employed to compensate for any weaknesses. While Muslim merit-making rhetoric has been Thai-ised, many Malay terms also persist as do a range of Arabic concepts. Therefore, although conceptualisations of merit generation, accumulation and transference are couched in tham bun rhetoric, Thai religious discourse has also been Islamised. The entry of tham bun into the local religious lexicon resembles the process through which Indic terms such as phala, sembahyang and puasa were retained and Islam-ised. This was despite a number of Arabic equivalents being available. Like Muslims elsewhere, those living in Thailand have sought equivalent terms in a language replete with religious concepts supplied by Indic or Buddhist religions. The fit of certain dynamic equivalents is not always perfect, as demonstrated by disagreements over whether the wajib pillars should be referred to as tham bun. Rituals through which Muslims transfer merit to the deceased in Cabetigo have been most impacted by reformist activism. This study has shown that the faithful performance of Islam’s ritual obligations is the normative means through which both traditionalists and reformists in Cabetigo accumulate cosmic cash for themselves. Additional merit may also be made through numerous supererogatory (PM. sunnat) ritual performances. Although all in Cabetigo pray for the deceased, and assert that meritorious acts of anok soleh benefit parents in the grave, reformists have dispensed with all forms of merit transference not mandated in the sunnah. This has affected more than the regime of funeral feasts. All merit transference strategies involving

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the hiring of non-anok soleh ritual specialists have been abandoned by reformists. These have been replaced with a range of functional substitutes. The most important of these are sedekoh jariyah and posthumous performances of the haj. Even the most conservative reformist accepts the living being obliged to make merit for the dead. Although reformist activism has made changes to the shape of the ritual repertoire through which many in Cabetigo transfer merit to the dead, merit-making rationales have been less affected. This study has argued that the merit-making rationales that motivate Muslims in Cabetigo to make merit correspond to deeply held beliefs about obligations to Allah and the deceased and the efficacious operation of merit in dunio and alam al-barzakh. These are two elements of Islam’s tripartite division of the cosmos. An Islamic cosmology also informs beliefs about the reward from meritorious acts being affected by where and when they are performed: Fridays are good days for making merit (Th. wan di); a Ramadan scale of merit operates once a year; and the rewards of all meritorious deed are multiplied in Mecca. Among the many problems with the “shared cosmology” thesis is that this description of the Muslim economy of merit in Cabetigo resembles those described by anthropologists working elsewhere in the Muslim world. As well as being historically grounded, and attentive to linguistic issues, this study of the Muslim economy of merit has also been inspired by the anthropology of Islam, a discourse which has: re-conceptualised Muslim diversity; reconsidered the Islamic credentials of local Islam; and established the ethnographic significance of Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire, texts and traditions. My interest in the local importance of this globally normative ritual repertoire in merit generation, accumulation and transference prevented me from placing inappropriate emphasis on the weird and wonderful elements of local Islam that anthropologists have developed a reputation for. My approach has attempted an alternative to past assessments of Southeast Asian Islam that assumes adat and ‘ibadat as two poles of the ritual binary. The inclusion of the range of feasting complexes sustained in Cabetigo enriched my description of merit-generation. Although some tham bun feasts played important roles in how Cabetigo’s traditionalist constituency generate and transfer cosmic cash to the deceased, most were more concerned with the needs of the living in dunio being met. The Islamic credentials of these local merit-making complexes were based on these generating bun or pahalo through a range of discrete ritual elements. These are also present in the performance of Ramadan, the haj, and umroh that I have also referred to as merit-making complexes. All feasts are prefaced by a niat for merit, are concluded with a du’o, and are based on the sedekoh of food funded with halal funds and given with ikhalah. Even though Qur’anic readings and recitations, salat and sedekoh have been referred to as discrete merit-making elements, important connections between them exist. For instance, the Qur’an is recited in salat and increases the potency of certain forms of sedekoh. Conclusions about the Islamic credentials of Muslim merit-making are unlikely to have been reached without interacting with Islam’s textual traditions—another

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element of the anthropology of Islam’s approach to studying Muslim societies. Like Muslims elsewhere, those residing in Cabetigo view that their future comfort in alam al-barzakh and destination after final judgment will primarily be affected by the weight of the merit that has been personally accumulated on dunio. Nevertheless, one’s store of bun or pahalo may also be added to through remittances of merit by the living. Not only has my discussion of locally occurring feasting complexes contributed to moving beyond the structuralist impasse created by Geertz, but these have also highlighted the local importance of Islam’s globally normative ritual repertoire. Like others, I reject the proposition that prayer, fasting and pilgrimages are either ethnographically uninteresting or insignificant. In his studies of the feast of sacrifice in Aceh and Morocco (1992, 1998), and salat in Indonesia (1989), John Bowen highlighted that none of these are structured around semantic cores or symbolic codes. Rather than misguidedly attempting to decode these, Bowen urges anthropologists to seek connections between their semantic meanings and the specific spiritual, social and political discourses in the Muslim societies that practice them. Doing so provides insights into how these ritual elements take on local social meanings (1989, p. 615). Muslims both shape a “particular set of ritual duties in sharply contrasting ways”, and elaborate and transform scriptural (and other) elements in “directions that make sense locally” (1992, p. 668). If Islam’s globally normative group of ritual repertoires is capable of functioning as receptacles for local meanings, what are these in Cabetigo? I argue that due to the amplified importance of merit generation, accumulation and transference ‘ibadat is viewed by Muslims in Cabetigo as the principal means through which they prepare for alam al-barzakh and assist those already there. This proposal is neither concerned with, nor dependent on, suggestions that Islam has been modified in any way, shape or form. It furthermore brings into focus Islam answering questions that Muslims with both an Indic past and close contacts with Theravada Buddhism in the present are asking. In other words, the Thai religious idiom of tham bun increases Islam’s comprehensibility in this Thai cosmopolis and cultural milieu. Although the merit-making rationales articulated above are understood by all, no claims have been made that merit generation, accumulation and transference are the sole concern of Cabetigo’s Muslim residents. While tham bun increases Islam’s local comprehensibility, it does not represent Islam’s comprehensiveness. In a locale possessing an Indic past and ever-increasing contacts with Thai modernity, the adoption of tham bun religious discourse reveals Islam answers questions that ordinary Muslims are asking and scratches where people are itching.

References Albritton, R. B. (2010). The Muslim South in the context of the Thai Nation. Journal of East Asian Studies, 10, 61–90. Bowen, J. R. (1989). Salat in Indonesia: The social meanings of an Islamic ritual. Man, 24, 299–318.

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Bowen, J. R. (1992). On scriptural essentialism and ritual variation: Muslim sacrifice in Sumatra and Morocco. American Ethnologist, 19, 656–671. Bowen, J. R. (1998). Defining the contours of an Islamic reform movement: An essay in successive contrasts. In J. Bowen & R. Petersen (Eds.), Critical comparisons in politics and culture (pp. 136–151). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Maziar Mozaffari-Falarti. (2009). Kedah: The foundations and durability of Malay Kingship. Ph.D. Thesis, Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane. Parkin, D. J. (2000). Inside and outside the Mosque: a Master trope. In S. C. Headley & D. Parkin (Eds.), Islamic prayer across the Indian Ocean: Inside and outside the Mosque (pp. 1–22). Richmond, VA: Curzon Press. Parks, T. I. (2009). Maintaining peace in a neighbourhood Torn by separatism: The case of Satun Province in Southern Thailand. Small Wars & Insurgencies, 20(1), 185–202. Yusuf, I. (2007). Faces of Islam in Southern Thailand (Working Paper No. 7). Washington, DC: East-West Center, Washington. Yusuf, I. (2009). Ethno-religious and political dimensions of the Southern Thailand conflict. In A. Pandya & E. Laipson (Eds.), Islam and politics: Renewal and resistance in the Muslim world (pp. 43–55). Washington, DC: The Henry L. Stimson Center.

Appendix Transcription of Vernacular Terms

Thai consonant phonemes and vowels Thai consonant phonemes

Stops

Spirants Sonarants

Voiced Voiceless Voiceless Voiceless Voiced Voiced Voiced Voiced

Unaspirated Unaspirated Aspirated Unaspirated Semivowels Nasala Lateral Trill or Retroflex

Bilabial

Dental

Palatal

Velar

b p ph f w m

d t th s

c ch

k kh

Glottal

y n l r

n

Thai vowel phonemes Front

High Mid Low

Central

Back

Unrounded

Rounded

i, ii, ia e, ee

u, uu, ua o, oo a, aa

C.M. Joll, Muslim Merit-Making in Thailand’s Far-South, Muslims in Global Societies Series 4, DOI 10.1007/978-94-007-2485-3,  C Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2012

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Appendix: Transcription of Vernacular Terms Pattani Malay consonant phonemes and vowels

Pattani Malay consonant phonemes

Stops Fricaatives Affricates Semivowels Nasals Lateral Trill

Voiceless Voiced Voiceless Voiced Voiceless Voiced Voiced Voiced Voiced Voiced

Bilabial

Alvelar

p b f

t d s z

w m

n l

(Alveo-) Palatal

Velar

Uvular

k g r ch j y ny

Glottal ‘ h

n ng r

Pattani Malay vowel phonemes Front

High

Central

Back

Unrounded

Rounded

i, in ei

Mid

u, un ou e

e, en Low

o, on a, an

Abbreviations

Ar. b. CD cf. CIS NGO NU Pal. pl. PM. Pr. PSTI PSU sg. Sk. SL SM. Syn. Th. TL Tm. Ur. VCD

Arabic bin Compact disc Compare College of Islamic Studies Non-governmental organization Nahdlatul Ulama Pali Plural Pattani Malay Persian Private school teaching Islam Prince of Songkhla University, Pattani Campus Singular Sanskrit Source language Standard Malay Synonymous Thai Target language Tamil Urdu Video compact disc

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Glossary

‘ibadat (PM.) Islamic ritual practice (syn. ama ‘ibadat (PM.)) ‘Aqil baligh (Ar.) Age of religious responsibility (reached upon puberty) Adat (SM.) Malay customary practice Adhad al-gabr (Ar.) Torture in the grave Ahkam (Ar.) Degrees of approval in Islamic law Ahl bida’ah (Ar.) Innovators Ahl kubor (Ar.) The deceased Ahl sunnah (Ar.) Followers of the sunnah (example of the prophet) Ajr (Ar.) merit Akhirat (Ar.) The hereafter or afterlife Alam al-barzakh (Ar.) The world of the grave where the dead await resurrection, and judgment Al-ayyam (Ar.) The voluntary fasts on the eleventh, twelfth, and thirtieth of every month Al-rasul (Ar.) The messenger (title for Muhammad) Ama (PM.) Islamic ritual practice (syn. ama ‘ibadat (PM.)) Ama ‘ibadat (PM.) Islamic ritual practice (syn. ‘ibadat (PM.)) Amphur (Th.) District Amphur Muang (Th.) Municipality. Anok soleh (PM.) A righteous son or daughter (syn. anak saleh (SM.)) Aqiqoh (PM.) Seventh day naming ritual for new-born babies Arwi Tamil written in a modified Arabic script Arwoh (PM.) The soul of the deceased (syn. winyan (Th.)) Asar (PM.) Afternoon prayers Ashura (Ar.) The tenth day of Muharram. A voluntary fast day. Hadiths mention the Prophet’s hope that this would cover the sins of the coming year Azan (Ar.) The call to prayer ten minutes before the appointed time for salat (syn. be (PM.), bang (SM.)) Azima’ (PM.) Amulets used from protection from evil spirits Baap (Th.) Sin or demerit (syn. dosa (PM.)) Baht Thai Currency ($1US = 30 baht) Balasoh (PM.) Prayer room (syn. Th./PM. surau)

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Glossary

Balo (PM.) Disaster, calamity, occasionally punishment (syn. hed rai (Th.), bala (SM.)) Bana (PM.) Town (syn. bandar) Barzanji (AR.) Oracle to the Prophet Muhammad read at Mawlid feasts (syn. zanji (PM.)) Basmalah (Ar.) The innovation Bismillah al-rahman al-rrahim “In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate” Batu nise kubor (PM.) Gravestones Be (PM.) Call to prayer (syn. bang (SM.), azan (Ar.)) Be (PM.) Older brother (Abang (SM.)) Be’woh (PM.) Religious Feast (a term more common in Narathiwat) (syn. wa’ make, wajike (PM.)) Berah (PM.) Uncooked rice Berakat (PM.) Barakah (Ar.) Blessing Berijihad di Pattani (PM.) The Struggle of Patani Bid’ah (Ar.) Religious practice that is not clearly sanctioned by authentic sources or is considered an innovation Buko poso (PM.) To break a fast (syn. kae buat (Th.)) Bun (Th.) Merit (syn. phonlabun (Th.), pahalo, bajike (PM.)) Chularajamontri (Th.) The shaykh-al-Islam who is recognized as the spiritual leader of the Muslims in Thailand and the royal advisor on Islamic matters Da’wah (Ar.) Islamic ‘mission’ (literally call) to both Muslims and non-Muslims. This functions as a synonym for the Tablighi Jama’at Dapa’ pahalo (PM.) To receive merit Dato’ Yutitham (Th.) Islamic judge Daun ro’ko’ (PM.) Cigarette grass. Dek ponok (PM.) Pondok students Doso (PM.) Sin or demerit (syn. dosa (SM.), baap (Th.)) Du’o (PM.) Prayer and petition (syn. do’a (Ar.)). Fardu (Ar.) Required or obligatory actions whose performance is meritorious and omission is punishable Fardu ‘in (Ar.) Personal religious responsibilities Fardu khifayah (Ar.) Religious responsibilities to the community Ghusl (Ar.) The major ablution involving a full bath Gula (PM.) Curry (syn. Kaeng (Th.)) Hadioh pahalo (PM.) To dedicate merit to someone (syn. Th. song/phee bun, PM. hadioh pahalo) Hadith (Ar.) Compiles traditions of the prophet Muhammad’s deeds and statements by his companions Haj (Ar.) Pilgrimage to Mecca Haj mabrup (Ar.) A pilgrimage resulting in all previous sins being forgiven Hajah (Ar.) Female pilgrim Haji (Ar.) Male pilgrim Halal (Ar.) That which is permitted Halaqah (Ar.) Study circle

Glossary

217

Halq (Ar.) Ritual hair-shaving at the end of ihram Haram (Ar.) That which is forbidden (syn. hare (PM.)) Hare (PM.) That which is forbidden (syn haram (Ar.)) Hari Rayo (PM.) General term for Islamic festivals, or the three-day end of Ramadan celebrations (syn. Hari Raya (SM.), Id’Il-Fitr (Ar.)) Hari Rayo Haji (PM.) Festival of sacrifice (syn. Id’Il-Adha (Ar.)) Hasanah (Ar.) Good deeds Hed Rai (PM.) Disaster or calamity, though often also considered punishment (syn. balo (PM.)) Hijaz (Ar.) Eastern Peninsula Arabia, most importantly Mecca and Medina Hong thaew (Th.) Show house I’tikaf (Ar.) The final ten days of Ramadan Id’il-adha (Ar.) Festival of sacrifice (syn. Hari Rayo Haji (PM)) Id’il-fitr (Ar.) End of Ramadan celebrations (syn. Hari Rayo (PM.)) Ifraad haj (Ar.) The haj made without umroh Iftar (Ar.) The meal with which the fast is broken during Ramadan Ihram (Ar.) State of ritual purity while performing haj and umroh Ikhalah (Ar.) Sincerity, devotion (syn. ikhalas (SM.)) Ilumung (PM.) Religious knowledge Iqama (Ar.) Shortened version of the be after which salat commences Isaan (Th.) Northeast Thailand Iso (PM.) Night prayers. Isra’ (Ar.) Muhammad’s night journey to Jerusalem Jaba’ sale (PM.) To shake hands Jahiliyya (Ar.) The pre-Islamic period of Arab religious ignorance Jai bun (Th.) A meritorious person Jangwat (Th.) Province Jawi (PM.) Malay written in an Arabic script (syn. Yawi (Th.)) Ka’ (PM.) Older sister Kae buat (Th.) To break a fast (syn. buko poso (PM.)) Kaeng (Th.) Curry Kampung (PM.) Village Karachakarn (Th.) Thai civil servants Kemiye (PM.) Incense used while the corpse in being prepared for burial Kenduri (SM) Ritual meal, feast Kerajaan (SM) Malay Kingdom Khaek (Th.) A pejorative term used by Thais to refer to Muslims, and by some Thai Muslims in the upper southern provinces to refer to themselves Khairat (Ar.) Alms, good works Kham chern (Th.) Call (to perform the haj) (syn. seru (PM.)) Khanat Kamakarn Islam) (Th.) the Pattani Provincial Islamic Council (syn. Majlis Agama (SM.), Maljih Ugamo (PM.)) Kharo’ (PM.) Alms, good works Khon Thai (Th.) Thai nationals or Thai Buddhists Khon yaak jon (Th.) The poor (syn. muskin (PM.))

218

Glossary

Khong waan (Th.) Sweets khuruj (Ur.) “Mission” trips central to the methodology of the Tablighi Jama’at Khutba (PM.) Sermon Kiraamun kaatibeen (Ar.) The angels that record all good and bad deeds and intentions Ko thoot (Th.) To ask for forgiveness (syn. mito’ ma’af (PM)) Korbe (PM.) Animal Sacrifice (syn. qurbani (Ar.)) Kubor (PM.) Graveyard Kuen prasert (Th.) The most excellent night Kusala (Sk.) Merit Lamaat (Th.) Ritual prayer (syn. salat (Ar.), semaye (PM.), sembahyang (Th.)) Lamaat Juma’at (Th.) Congregational prayers (on Hari Rayo, or Fridays) (syn. lamaat wan suk (Th.)) Lamaat wan suk (Th.) Friday congregational prayers (syn. lamaat Juma’at (Th.)). Laylat Al Qadr (Ar.) The night of power Ligor (PM.) Nakhon Si Thammarat Lung (Th.) Uncle (syn. Pok (PM.)) Madhhab (Ar.) School of Islamic jurisprudence Mahzur (Ar.) Punishable actions (c.f. Ar. Haram) Majlih Ugamo (PM.) the Pattani Provincial Islamic Council (syn. Majlis Agama (SM.), Khanat Kamakarn Islam (Th.)) Make Pulot (PM.) Social feast associated with weddings, and circumcisions which those attending make a donation towards Make suhoor (PM.) Eating the pre-dawn meal in Ramadan Makruh (Ar.) Reprehensible actions that although are not punishable, are not disapproved of (c.f. fardu) Mandoob (Ar.) Recommended meritorious practice Markaz (Ur.) Religious centre Masuk Jawi (PM.) Circumcision Masyid (Th.) Mosque Mawlid (Ar.) Celebrations on the prophet Muhammad’s birthday Mayat (PM.) Corpse (syn. sop (Th.)) Mekkoh (PM.) Mecca Mi’raj (Ar.) The night of ascension of the prophet Mito’ ma’af (PM.) To ask for forgiveness (syn. ko thoot (Th.)) Mubah (Ar.) Indifferent actions neither punishable nor meritorious Muskin (PM.) The poor (syn. khon yaak jon (Th.)) Mustahab (Ar.) Desirable meritorious practice Muwahhidun (Ar.) Unitarians, A term preferred by the Wahhabi movement Nafilah (Ar.) Voluntary meritorious action whose non-action not punishable Nahdlatul Ulama (Id.) Indonesian traditionalist organization, “the awakening of the ulama” Ngaji Kure (PM.) Studying the Qur’an (syn. rian al-kuran (Th.)) Ngatek (PM.) Reciting tahlil, or tahlil, tahmid, tasbih Niat (PM.) Intention

Glossary

219

Niqab (Ar.) Full-faced veil Nisfu Sha‘ban (Ar.) The middle of the month of Sha’ban by which all requirements of the previous year’s fast has been fulfilled. Norib (PM.) Dusk prayers (syn. Maghrib (Ar.)) Ore brao (PM.) “Wahhabi” Ore isle (PM.) Muslims Ore jawi (PM.) Muslims from Southeast Asia, Malays from South Thailand. (syn. Jawah) Ore meneko (PM.) Merchants, Petty traders (syn. thawke (Th.)) Ore nayu (PM.) Malays (from South Thailand) Ore siye (Th.) Thai Buddhists Ore taning (PM.) Pattani natives Pahalo (PM.) (syn. pahala (SM.) bun, phonlabun (Th.)) Paya de (PM.) Payment of the fine for days of the fast of Ramadan not completed Peranakan (SM) Mixed race Phee bun (Th.) To dedicate merit to someone (syn. song bun (Th.), hadioh pahalo (PM.)) Phi (Th.) Older brother or sister Piyo’ (PM.) Muslim skull cap Pok (PM.) Uncle (syn. lung (Th.)) Ponok (PM.) Traditional Islamic school (Pondok (SM)) Poso (PM.) Fasting (syn. puasa (SM.)) Puñña (Pal.) Merit Punya (Sk.) Merit Qasr (Ar.) Ritual haircutting at the end of ihram Qiblat (PM.) Direction of prayer (to Mecca) Qiraan haj (Ar.) The haj performed with one ihram Rai (Th.) Measure of land equivalent to 1,000 square meters Raka’at (pl.) (PM.) Units or cycles in salat (sg. raka’ah) Rasul-Allah (Ar.) A title for Muhammad, meaning the prophet of God Raya Ne (PM.) The seventh of Shawwal on which the six day fast after Hari Rayo is completed Rian al-kuran (Th.) Studying the Qur’an (syn. ngaji kure (PM.)) Riski (PM.) Provision or physical blessing Ro’ko’ (PM.) Cigarette Rongrian ekachon son satsana Islam (Th.) Private School Teaching Islam Rukon Islam (Ar.) Pillars of Islam Sagha’ir (Ar.) Venial sins Sa’I (Ar.) Walking between the hills of Safa and Marwah in Mecca seven times Salafism Islamic puritan movement asserting the sunnah of Muhammad as the normative guide for Islam today Salawat (Ar.) Blessing the prophet Muhammad sanchatthian (Th.) Instinctive Satsanakit (Th.) Religious Rituals. Saw luk (Th.) Centre post of a house (syn. thiye (PM.))

220

Glossary

Sawm (Ar.) Fasting (syn. poso (PM.), puasa (SM.), sin ot ahaan (Th.)) Sedekoh (PM.) Charity Sedekoh jariyah (PM.) The donation of skills, items, or money to public institution. Considered by some to include teaching Segoro (PM.) Songkhla Semaye (PM.) Islamic ritual prayer (sembahyang (SM.), lamaat (Th.)) Semaye duho (PM.) Salat performed at about 11 am Semaye hajat (PM.) Salat performed in response to a special need Semaye ishraq (PM.) Morning prayer performed after the sun has risen Semaye juma’at (PM.) Congregational prayers (on Hari Rayo, or Fridays) Semaye mayat (PM.) Salat performed before burials Semaye sunnat topat (PM.) Prayer for forgiveness Semaye tahajud (Ar.) Salat performed after midnight subsequent to falling to sleep (syn. salat al-lail (Ar.)) Semaye taroweh (PM.) Salat performed during the month of Ramadan after Iso prayers, usually consisting of twenty, or eight raka’at Senenge (PM.) Peace Seru (PM.) Call (to perform the haj) (syn. kham chern (Th.)) Sewaeng bun (Th.) To go on a pilgrimage (to seek merit) Shahadah (Ar.) The first pillar of Islam declaring “There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his messenger” Shariah (Ar.) Islamic religious law Song bun (Th.) To send merit to someone (syn. phee bun (Th.), hadioh pahalo (PM.)) Songkran (Th.) Thai new years celebration Sop (Th.) Corpse (syn. mayat (PM.)) Suat mun (Th.) Make religious chants Suboh (PM.) Pre-dawn prayers (syn. zuboh (SM.), fajr (Ar.)) Suhoor (PM.) Pre-dawn meal in Ramadan Suhur (PM.) Midday prayers Sunnah (Al-Nabi) (Ar.) The practice of the prophet. These are divided into mandub (recommended) and mustahab (desirable) Sunnat (PM.) Generic term for voluntary religious acts whose performance is rewarded with merit. Sunnat muakkad (PM.) A practice regularly practiced by the prophet himself (syn. Sunnah muakkadah (Ar.)) Surau (PM./Th.) Prayer room (syn. balasoh (PM.)) Suroh (PM.) Chapter of the Qur’an Ta’laat nat (Th.) Weekly market Taa yaa (Th.) Ancestors (syn. tok nenek (PM.)) Tabligh Juma’at Muslim missionary and revival movement founded in the late 1920s in of India by Maulana Muhammad Ilyas Kandhalawi Tadika (SM) Small religious schools attached to mosque or prayer rooms where basic Islamic knowledge is taught in the evenings and weekends Tahlil (Ar.) “la ilah illa Allah” (syn. ngatek (PM.))

Glossary

221

Tahmid (Ar.) “Alhumdulilah” (Ar. Praise be to Allah” Takbir (Ar.) “Allahu Akbar” (Ar. Allah is great) Talbiyah (Ar.) Prayer prayed by pilgrims declaring their intention to perform the haj Talqin (Ar.) Funeral catechism Tammatu haj (Ar.) The haj made with two ihrams Taqlid (Ar.) Blind following Tariqah (Ar.) Sufi Order Tasbih (Ar.) “Subahanaallah” Ar. glory be to Allah), and to the reception of Subahanaallah, Alhumdulilah, and Allahu Akhbar Tawaf (Ar.) The anti-clockwise circling of the Ka’bah seven times Tepa’ ngusong mayat (PM.) Cage for carrying a corpse to the graveyard. Thai Phut (Th.) Thai Buddhists Tham bun (Th.) General religious action, including—although not exclusively— those generating merit. Tham naa (Th.) To make face Tham thaan (Th.) To do acts of charity (syn. sedekoh (PM.)) Thawke (Th.) Merchants, Petty traders (syn. ore meneko (PM.)) Thesebarn (Th.) City Council Thiye (PM.) Centre post of a house (syn. saw luk (Th.)) Tobat (PM.) Repentance Tok babo (PM.) Owner of ponok school, or senior and respected tok guru Tok guru (PM.) Religious teacher Tok ime (PM.) Person responsible for a mosque, or who leads salat (syn. tok imam (SM.)) Tok khatib (PM.) Reader of Friday sermon. Tok kodi (PM.) Sharia (Islamic law) judge Tok leba (PM.) Mosque official who gives the call to prayer (syn. tok lebai (SM.)) Tok mude (PM.) Circumcision specialist Tok nenek (PM.) Ancestors (syn. taa yaa (Th.)) Tok pakir (PM.) Ponok school superintendent who looks after students and liaises with visitors to ponok, or ponok students Tok seh (PM.) Haj guide Tuhe (PM.) God Tupa’ (PM.) Triangular glutinous rice and coconut cream sweet wrapped in leaves which are eaten on Hari Rayos (syn. ketupat (SM.) Turut ore tuo (PM.) To follow old traditions Umroh (PM.) The lesser pilgrimage (syn. umrah (Ar.)) Ustaz (PM.) Teacher in a ponok, or PSTI Wa’ arwoh (PM.) Funeral feast (syn. wa’ ngatek (PM.), tham bun hai phu sia chiwit (Th.)) Wa’ make (PM.) To hold a merit-making feast (syn. wa’ wajike (PM.)) Wa’ mawlid (PM.) To hold a mawlid feast (syn. tham bun mawlid (Th.)) Wa’ ngatek (PM.) Funeral feast (syn. wa’ arwoh (PM.), tham bun hai phu sia chiwit (Th.))

222

Glossary

Wa’ pahalo (PM.) To make merit wa’ upoh haj (PM.) Hiring someone to perform the haj Wa’ wajike (PM.) To hold a merit-making feast (syn. wa’ make (PM.)) Wajib (Ar.) Required or obligatory actions whose performance is meritorious and omission is punishable Waktu (PM.) Prayer times (Suboh, Sohur, Asar, Norib, and Iso) Walimah (PM.) Feast associated with weddings, for which no donation is expected Wan di (Th.) Good days to make merit on Woquf (Ar). Prayer vigil between noon and sunset Wudu (Ar.) Ritual ablutions before the performance of salat Zakat (Ar.) Compulsory annual religious tithe Zakat fitrah (Ar.) Tithe paid to the poor before Juma’at prayers on Hari Rayo Zanji (PM.) Oracle to the Prophet Muhammad read at mawlid feasts (syn. berzanji (Ar.)) Zeroh ore mati (PM.) Visit the relatives of the deceased, or to attend a meritmaking feast for the deceased Zikir (PM./Ar.) Reciting, or recalling God’s names and attributes. Sometimes synonymous with tasbih Zuboh (SM.) Pre-dawn prayers (syn. Suboh (PM.), Fajr (Ar.))

Index

A Aceh, 29, 44, 209 Adat codification by Dutch, 9–10 conceptualizations of, 8 evaluations of, 8 Middle Eastern origins of, 9 Adhad al-gabr, see Torture of the grave (Ar. Adhab al-Qabr) Ahl bid’ah, 64, 147–148 Ahl kubor, 111, 169 Ahl sunnah, 65, 138, 147 Ajr, see Merit, Arabic terms for Akhirat, 106, 130, 150–151, 156, 171, 174, 187–188, 193, 198 See also Alam al-barzakh Alam al-barzakh comfort in, 186, 188, 195, 198–199, 200, 209 definition of, 187 merit transference to deceased in, 186, 188–189 and resurrection, 186 See also Torture of the grave (Ar. Adhab al-Qabr) torture in, 113, 189–190 uniqueness of on eschatological market, 200 Alam kubor, see Alam al-barzakh Alayyam, 169 Algeria, 96, 192 Alhumdulilah, see Tahmid Al-Imam, 43, 46, 50 Allah absent in Buddhist cosmology, 199 forgiveness by, 143, 162, 168, 173, 175, 177, 182, 189

obligations to, 17, 154, 181, 186–189, 197, 199, 200, 208 rewards from, 98, 142, 181, 198–199 Al-Manar, 43, 46 Al-Munir, 43 Ama ‘ibadat, see ‘ibadat Anglo-Siamese treaty (1909), 16, 38, 48, 83, 205–206 Anok soleh, 65, 111, 114–115, 120, 126–127, 147, 178, 181, 188–189, 196, 198–199, 207–208 Anthropologists as professional strangers, 13 the religious identity of, 13 Anthropology of Islam conceptualization of Muslim diversity by, 9 definition, articulators and exemplifiers of, 8 the ethnographic significance of ‘ibadat in, 8, 10, 208 evaluation of adat, 8 Arwi, 31 Ashura, 34 Ayutthaya control over Patani, 16, 33, 36–37 demise of, 36 patani as vassal of, 36–37 predecessor of Bangkok, 16, 37 Azan, 31, 115, 215–216 B Baap, see Demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso) Bajike, 85–86 Balasoh, see Surau Balo, see Misfortune (PM. balo) Bangkok assimilation by, 39–40, 74 and Chakri dynasty, 26, 37, 73, 206 governments, 39–42, 68, 70, 83

223

224 Bangkok (cont.) influence of, 17, 25–53, 196–200 legislation by, 40–42 Malay resistance of, 207 Muslims in, 7, 73 wars with Patani (1785–1836), 16, 36–39 Barzanji, see Zanji Bengali Muslims, 91, 101 Be (SM. bang), 115 Be’who, see Feasting complexes, merit-generating Bismillah sanctifying effect of, 118 in semaye, 146 Bonds of brotherhood, 52 Brahmanism, 148 See also Indic Influences Brao as reformist centre, 50 village of, 50 See also Ore brao Buddhist merit-making, see Merit-making rationales; Motivations Bun indic origins and Islamization of, 83, 86, 91 phonlabun as elegant equivalent, 85, 109, 133, 138–140 See also Merit Bunkhun, 138–139 C Cabetigo default languages in, 76–77, 104 ethnic diversity in, 12, 53, 72, 205 linguistic diversity in, 12, 64, 76, 78, 205 religious diversity in, 10–12, 64, 66, 205 spatial orientation, 75, 78, 187 Calamity, see Misfortune (PM. balo) Chants, 130, 140–142, 146, 154–156, 199 as merit-generating element in feasting complexes, 129–130, 138, 140–144 See also Tasbih; Tahmid; Takbir; Ngatek; Salawat Charity, see Sedekoh Chinese Muslims, 101 Chinese in Southeast Asia, 27, 30–31 Chork (Th.), see Luck Chulalongkorn (Rama V) and Anglo-Siamese treaty, 38 modernization of Thailand, 37 Chularajamontri Haji Sulong as unofficial Chularajamontri, 40

Index legitimacy in Pattani, 40 origins of institution, 42, 50 Persian influence, 34 Circulating Islam definition and heuristic value of, 16, 27–33 products of, 27–33 Circumstantialism, 66 Compulsory Primary Education Act (1921), 38–39, 206 Cosmology Islamic, 90, 181, 198, 200–201, 208 Thai, 199 Cosmopolis Arabic cosmopolis, 26, 30–31, 51, 91, 197, 205 Sanskrit cosmopolis, 16, 25–27, 51, 83, 86, 101, 205 Thai, 17, 78, 209 Thai and Malay in cosmopolis, 83 Cosmopolitan, 16, 27, 30–31, 35, 78 Creole ambassadors contributions, 32 definition, 16, 31, 34, 205 examples of, 16, 26, 30–32, 34, 205 D Da’wah, see Tablighi Jama’at Debt, 131–132, 137, 148, 171–172, 175 Defilement, see Wudu; Ghusl Demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso) incurred by non-performance of ritual obligations, 92–93, 96, 126, 186 non-inclusion of, 131 Dhu al-Hijjah, 175–177, 194 See also Haj Doso, see Demerit (Th. baap, PM. doso) Du’o for the dead, 113, 134, 141, 143, 147, 155 for the dead as meritorious, 147 efficacy assisted by sedekoh, 130, 134, 136, 141, 145, 155–156, 191–192, 208 as element of feasts, 140–144 following salat, 96, 118, 121, 123, 129, 143, 160, 175, 208 general description of, 96, 121 E Economy of merit in Buddhism, 192 characteristics of, 192 resemblences to convention economy, 193 in Southeast Asia, 208 in the wider Muslim world, 192–196

Index Education special tuition, 106 strategies in Cabetigo, see PSTI Thai public education system, 41 transformation of in South Thailand, see PSTI Egypt, 8, 43–44, 110, 200 Embedded Islam, 31 Epistemological optimism, 14 Epistemological privilege, 14 Ethnicization construction of ethnicity in the Straits of Melacca, 66, 68 plural and porous boundaries in the process of, 66–73 F Fardu Fardu ain, 121, 126, 197 Fardu khifayah, 121–122, 126 See also Wajib; Fardu prayers Fardu prayers, 84, 88, 93–96, 104, 109, 111, 115–120, 122–123, 126, 130, 133, 137–138, 154–156, 160, 164, 170, 173–174, 176, 180–181, 186–187, 193–195, 197–198 Fasting, see Poso Faw kubor, see Jago kubor Feasting complexes, merit-generating, 138, 140–144, 152, 156, 198–199 food at, 103, 110, 126, 129 ritual elements of, 186 Thai and Malay terms for, 197 as tham bun, 4, 15, 84, 87–88, 93–94, 96, 121, 126, 130–131, 144, 149, 186, 197, 199, 207 types in Cabetigo, 111–112, 114, 142, 169, 182, 187–189 unceremonial exist from, 151 See also Funeral feasts; Mawlid, Housewarming feasts; General tham bun feasts, merit-making complexes Feasts, see Feasting complexes, merit-generating; Feasts, social Feasts, social confusion over, 87 donations towards, 199 Thai and Malay terms for, 85–87 Fieldwork, 10–14, 74, 78 Funeral feasts comparisons with Thai wai phra by Burr, 78

225 controversies concerning, 147 description of, 84, 144–149 as element of local Islam, 1 Thai and Malay terms for, 147 Funerals case Studies of, 144 funeral manuals, 190 Qur’anic silence on, development in first Islamic Century, 110 Talqin, 7, 146 See also Semaye mayat, Funeral feasts; Jago kubor G General tham bun feasts as celebration, 153 description of, 152–154 dispelling misfortune, 154 diversity of, 152–153 and protection, 152–153 Ghosts, see Hatu; Phi Ghusl description of, 116–117 compared with wudu, 116–117, 176 See also Wudu; defilement Good days (to make merit), see Wan di Good deeds, see Sedekoh The grave, see Alam al-barzakh Great traditions, 6 H Hadhramaut and Hadhramis, 29–30 Hadith, 42, 90, 95, 109, 114–116, 123, 133, 141, 144, 148–149, 163, 180, 190 See also Islamic texts and traditions Hafiz, 165–166, 181 Haj biggest merit-making occasion of a lifetime, 173, 181, 194 changes among returning after pilgrims, 43, 171, 173–174, 196 completion of wajib requirement, 160, 163, 178, 180–181 for the deceased, 178, 181 for the deceased as functional substitute for funeral feasts, 189 description of, 160, 171–177 forms of, 176 funding for, 160, 182 haj mabrup and forgiveness through, 160, 173, 175, 177, 181–182 Ihram, 176 as merit-making complex, 160, 171, 198

226 Haj (cont.) preparations before, 171–176 scholarship for, 179 Seru, 160, 173 various rewards from, 181, 198–199 See also Mecca; Merit-making complexes; Wajib; wa’ upoh haji; Tok seh Hajahs/Hajis, 7, 43, 52, 174–175, 177–178 Hajis as “mock monks”, 6 Haji Sulong career in Mecca and Pattani, 206 and Education, 41, 47, 51, 65, 206 influence by Muhammad Abduh, 43–44, 46–47 influence in Pattani, 16, 40–42, 44, 46–47, 49, 51, 53, 65, 206 and Lufti, 50 and Politics, 46 and religious reform, 43, 47, 65, 206 seven demands by, 40 Halal, 4, 70, 91, 93, 97, 100, 130, 132, 155, 171–172, 182, 197, 208 sources of funds for merit-making, 91, 130, 208 See also Haram Hamzah Fansuri, 29 Haram, 9, 93, 195, 197 See also Halal Haramnya, 45–47, 177, 180–181, 194, 198 See also Mecca Hari Rayo description of, 167–169 merit-making for the dead during, 159 Hari Rayo Haji connection to haj, 1, 114, 116, 163, 182 description of, 176 merit-making for the dead during, 181 sacrifice of cow during, 176 Hassanah, 3, 135, 137, 161 arabic terms for, see Merit, Arabic terms for Hatu, 113, 199 Hijaz, 16, 26, 42–44, 206 See also Mecca Hijrah, 45, 206 from a Dar-al-Harb as religious obligation for, 45 Hikayat Patani, 33 Hope (importance of), 127, 147 House-warming feasts description of, 124, 140, 151 importance of semaye hajat in, 151

Index role in seeking blessing and dispelling misfortune, 124 similarities to semaye hajat, 124 Huamuang Patani, 16, 18, 37 I ‘Ibadat definition of, 8, 84, 92 ethnographic significance of, 8, 10 importance in merit-making, 208 as Islamic ideation, 91, 198, 201 neglect by anthropologists, 92 ‘ibadat/adat binary, 208 Ibn Taymiyya, 42, 191 Ide, 146, 149–150 See also Feasting complexes, merit-generating Identifications affect of language and context on, 17 “authority defined” verses “everyday defined”, 64 Khaek, 74 Malay, 41, 45, 69 ore jawi, 68, 70, 74 ore nayu, 70, 74 primordialist and Circumstantialist theories of ethnicity, 67 Thai Muslim, definition, 39, 41, 75, 78 Thai Muslim, as oxymoronic, 72 Thai Muslim, past rejection and recent selective adoption, 207, 209 Id Il-Adha, see Hari Rayo Haji Id-Il-Fitri, see Hari Rayo Ihram, see Haj Ikhalah definition of and general importance of, 94, 98–100 importance in sedekoh and feasts, 98, 130, 137–138, 155, 197, 208 as Islamic ideation, 91, 98 synonymous with anonymity, 99, 155 Incense, 146, 169 Indian Ocean transport and communication across, 26, 46, 206 Indian Ocean trade connection of trans-peninsula trading routes in, 31–33 description of, 16, 31, 44 role in connecting Patani/Pattani to Middle East, 44 role of Patani’s harbour in, 31

Index Indic Influences adoption by Southeast Asian elites for own means, 26 and “Greater India”, 26 in Langkasuka and Patani before Islam, 27, 31, 205 in Southeast Asia, 25, 51 in Yarang complex, 27 See also Sanskrit cosmopolis Indonesia, 1, 10, 30, 45, 63, 70, 73, 97, 142, 151, 200, 209 Insurgency in South Thailand (post-2004), 15 Intercession by the prophet, 190, 196 Intercessory prayer, see Du’o Interviews, 11–12, 72, 134, 174, 178 Iqama, 117 See also Fardu prayers Islam adhesion to in Patani, 26, 51, 197 adoption of in Patani, 51, 197 appreciation of by Muslims in Cabetigo, 206, 209 conversion to in Patani, 33 embeddedness in South and Southeast Asia, 29 essential element of Malayness, 69 provision of detail in, 91 southeast Asian expansion of, 16, 28, 30, 33–34 Islamicate, 9, 201 Islamic texts and traditions in anthropology of Islam, 8, 208–209 Islamization importance of creole personalities in, 31 of Malay language, 30 processes and personalities in, 44 of Sanskrit cosmopolis, 27 of Thai merit-making rhetoric, 197 Ismail Lutfi Japakiya diverse assessments of, 53 influence and contributions of, 50 relationship to Haji Sulong, 51 and Saudi-style salafism in South Thailand, 50 I’tikaf, 162–164, 180 See also Ramadan J Jago kubor, 112–113, 149, 189, 195 controversies over, 112–113 description of, 112–113 Jihad, 50

227 Judgment, 46, 142, 186, 188–189, 199–200, 209 Juz, see Qur’an K Kaum Muda, 44 See also Reformism/reformists Kaum tua, 44, 47, 64 See also Traditionalism/traditionalists Kawase al-Haram (PM.), see Haj Kedah, 31, 35, 38, 52, 68, 70, 206 Keda kopi, 1, 77, 125, 136 Kelantan, 37–38, 46, 48, 52, 70–71, 73–76, 140, 206 Kenduri, see Feasting complexes, merit-generating Keroh, 150–154 Khet al-Haram (Th.), see Haj Kin bun, see Merit-making feasts Kitab Jawi, 45 Koto destruction in Kruset and relocation to Cabetigo, 2 as pillar of the Patani kerajaan, 3 Kruset, 3, 33, 37–38, 44, 120 Kubor in Cabetigo, 2–3, 78, 112–114, 142, 144, 169, 182, 188, 189 Merit-making for the deceased in, 111–112, 114, 127, 142, 147, 168–169, 182, 187–189, 195 See also Alam al-barzakh L Lailahlailahallah, see Tahli Lailatul adr, see Ramadan Lamaat, 84–85, 87, 94–95, 98, 108, 115, 122–123, 125, 133, 136, 142–143, 150, 163, 165–166, 197, 218 Langkasuka, 27–28, 31, 51 Language bilingualism in Cabetigo, 76 default languages in Cabetigo, 1, 12–15 importance in this study, 1 language hierarchy in Thailand, 71 linguistic relativity, 89 religious language, 205 situational bilingualism, 77 See also Merit-making rhetoric, Malay Language, Malay among non-Muslims, 1, 78 as key component of Malay identity, 43

228 Language, Malay (cont.) as language of Islam in the far-south, 41 loss among young urban Malays, 206 Language, Pattani Malay dialect, 1, 11, 17, 69, 76 Language, Thai adoption by Thais, 33–35 among non-Muslims, 1, 14, 78 in Cabetigo, 6, 11 as language of Thai Islam, 72 in PSTI, 206 Lesser pilgrimage, see Umroh Ligor, see Nakhon Si Thammarat Little traditions, 6, 52 Lombok, 134, 141, 188 Luck, 7, 150, 153–154, 186, 191 Lutfi, 50–51, 62 M Make pulot criticism of, 152 lack for merit-generation from, 98 Malay Merit-making rhetoric, see Merit-making rhetoric, Malay Malayness contestations over, 17, 74 importance of language in South Thailand, 17 middle class Malays (Melayu baru), 71 origins, 73 relationship with Islam, 72 in South Thailand, 39, 52, 70, 73, 75, 196 See also Ore nayu; Ore jawi Malay printing presses, 45 Malay, see Malayness Malaysia, 41, 47, 63, 65, 68, 70–71, 74, 152, 174, 196 Mandoob, see Sunnat Mappila, 30 Marco Polo, 30 Market demise in Patani, 37 Ore kayo in, 172 as pillar of the Patani kerajaan, 35 rise in Patani, 26 Masuk jawi, 52, 87, 100, 152 See also Feasts, social Masyid, see Mosque Mawlid Barzanji/Zanji in, 140, 143, 149 controversies surrounding, 49, 126, 127

Index description of, 130–131, 140, 149–151 role of blessing in, 143–144 Salawat in, 118–119, 140, 142–144, 149–150 Mecca as Islam’s sacred centre, 160, 171, 182, 194 Masyid Al-Haram and Ka’bah, 177, 194 multiplications of merit, 159, 176–177, 179–180, 194, 196 see Shaykh Daud al-Fatani, Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani, Haji Sulong See also Haj; Umroh Mecca’s Patani School, 44–46 See also Shaykh Daud al-Fatani; Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani Melacca fall in 1511, 31, 33 importance of, 31–33, 69 patani as vassal of, 35 Melayu, see Malayness Merit accumulation of, 101, 103, 189 arabic terms for, see Bun comparisons to conventional currency, 192, 201 conceptualizations of, 93, 188, 207–208 as cosmic cash or capital, 197, 207–208 differences to conventional currency, 192, 201 leakages of and patches for, 187 merit from sunnat ritual elements as compliments, 94 ontological superiority of merit from wajib ritual elements, 94, 186 ontological superiority of wajib merit, 188 quantifiability of, 192 records of in account book, 132 Sanskrit and PALI terms for, 86 See also Bun, pahalo, phonlabun as spiritual insurance, 192 Thai and Malay terms for, 86 See also Bun; Pahalo; phonlabun transferability of, see Merit transference weight of in comfort in the grave and judgement, 147, 199 Merit-making feast, 6–7, 85, 98, 103, 129–130, 140, 142, 152, 155–156, 192 Merit-making motivations hope, 114, 127, 136, 141–142, 147, 167, 181 the needs of the living in dunio, 186, 208

Index obligations to Allah, 126, 154, 181, 186–188, 197, 199–200, 208 obligations to deceased, 188–191 Merit-making rationales, 75, 185–201, 208–209 Buddhist merit-making rationales as template for Muslim ones, 199 Islamic ideation in, 197 mechanistic, 192 personal merit accumulation, 104 reformists, 196 traditionalists, 193 See also Alam al-barzakh, Merit transference, Merit-making motivations, Muslim economy of merit Merit-making rhetoric comparisons between Thai and Malay, 207 delineation of, 84, 86 distinct from Buddhist merit-making rationales, 199 importance of Arabic in ideation, 31 islamic ideation in, 91–100 Malay, 83–101 Thai, 83–101 Wa’ pahalo, 84, 86, 101, 196 Wa’ wajike, 85, 152 See also, Bun; Pahalo; Tham bun Merit-making rituals accessibility of, 10 affect of gender on, 7 delineation of, see Merit-making rituals, discrete elements; ritual complexes discipline needed in, 95 disposable income in, 194 importance of ama ‘ibadat, 155 Thai and Malay terms for, 85 Merit-making rituals, discrete elements description of, 87 Qur’anic readings and recitations, 88, 96 sedekoh, 84–85, 88, 94–98, 100 semaye, 84–85, 88, 93–95 See also Sedekoh; Qur’an Merit-making rituals, ritual complexes description of, 185 feasting complexes, 198 pilgrimages, see pilgrimages Ramadan, 186 See also Poso sunnat See also Haj; Umroh; Ramadan; Feasting complexes, merit-generating Merit-making, see Tham bun Meritorious smorgasbords, see Feasting complexes, merit-generating

229 Merit transference by anok soleh, 65, 111, 114–115, 120, 126–127, 147, 178, 188–189, 196, 198–199, 207 in Buddhism, 52, 200–201 methods of, 188, 194 by non-anok soleh, 127, 178, 188–189, 196, 199, 208 as responsibility, 111 by ritual specialists, 26, 65, 115, 127, 141 See also Funeral feasts; Jago kubor; wa’ upoh haji, Muslim economy of merit Milieu, 6–7, 185, 209 Thai and Malay Milieu, 7 Misfortune (PM. balo), 124, 150, 154 Mon, 68 Monthon Patani, 18, 36 Morocco, 10, 192–193, 209 Mosque Differences with surau, 98 Kruset, 37 Masyid Klang (Central Mosque), 2 Masyid Pakistan, 72 Masyid Rajo, 5, 166 as pillar of Patani keerajaan, 207 rewards from prayers performed at, 120 Motivations, 12, 17, 65, 108, 185–201 Muhammad Abduh influence on Haji Sulong, 16 Muhammad bin Abd al-Wahhab, see Wahhabiyyah Muhammadiyah, 44, 48 Muhammad Rashid Rida, 43 Muharram, 9 Muk Sulaiman, 41, 139 Muslim economy of merit, 192–196 Mustahabbt, see Sunnat N Nahdlatul Ulama (NU), 44 Nakhon Si Thammarat, 35, 37, 49, 63, 72, 78, 125, 149 Nationalism Arab, 30, 46 Malay, 38 Thai, 42 National Reconciliation Commission, 50 Ngaan liang, see Feasts, social Ngatek, 140, 142–143, 145 role in merit-generation and transference, 155

230 Niat and du’o, 96, 143, 188, 191 example of Islamic ideation, 91 importance in merit-generation, 91, 96 importance of naming recipients in merit transference, 133 impure, 97, 138–140, 173, 197 See also Tham naa, phonprayoot role in determining merit efficacious operations, 199 in sedekoh, 130, 134–135, 138 Non-anok soleh as distinctive element of traditionalist merit-making rationales, 185 efficacy of merit transference by, 186 merit-making for the dead as community obligation, 147 Nur al-Din al-Raniri, 29 O Obligations merit-making rationales, and motivations, 185–201 Ore isle, 68, 71, 74, 124 inseparability between Islam and Malayness, see Identification, ore jawi Ore jawi, see Identification, ore jawi Ore meneko forms of merit-generation among, 156 importance of sedekoh for, 194 relation to blessing, 7 Ore nayu, see Identification, ore jawi Ore brao, 50, 65 Orphans, 135–136, 138, 155 P Padri wars, 43 Pahalo indic origins and Islamization of, 65, 207 See also Merit Pakistanis, 48, 61, 72, 92, 113, 137, 142, 144, 166, 178, 195 Palace, see Koto Pali, 86, 197 Participant observation, 11–12 Pasai, 32–34, 51 Patani (Malay Kerajaan) defeat of in 1785, 16, 26, 37, 42 importance of trade in, 30–33 incremental integration of, 42 See also Huamuang Patan; Monthon Patani Kelantan Dynasty in, 35–36

Index origins of, 73 Patani Dynasty in, 36 prosperity of, 72 similarities with other port city-states, 26 as Vassal, 36, 37 See also Vassal Thai influences in, 69 traditional of Islamic scholarship, 196–200 Patani/Pattani, 1–2, 4–6, 11–18, 26–27, 31–33, 35–42, 44–46, 48–53, 61–63, 69–71, 74–78, 85–86, 100, 108, 135, 139, 144–145, 148, 163, 167, 172–173, 175–176, 179, 197, 205–206, 212 Patani (Thai Huamuang), 16, 18, 36–37 Patani (Thai Monthon), 16, 18, 36–37 Patronage of Islam Acts (1945), 40 Pattani Malay Language, see Language, Malay Pattani Municipality (Th. thesebarn), 173 Pattani (Thai province), 18, 35–39, 48 Persian influences, 34 Petty traders, see Ore meneko Phi, 64, 113 Phibul Songkhram (General), 39–40 Phonlabun elegant, 152 see Bun Phonprayoot, 138–140, 173 Phontoopthaen, 138–139 Phuket, 73 Pilgrimages, see Haj; umroh; Mecca Pillar of Islam, 160, 177, 194 See also Wajib; Fardu Political legitimacy, crisis of post–2004, 41 Poor, 87, 95, 112, 121–122, 131–132, 137–138, 145, 151, 154–155, 161, 163–164, 172, 178, 194 Poso, see Ramadan Ramadan wajib abstinences, 160, 197 Poso sunnat forms of, 167 Rayo ne, 169–171 role in merit-generation, 159 Prayer room, see Surau Prayer, see Du’o Prem Tinsulanonda (general, prime-minister, and privy council chairman), 206 Primordialism, 67 Protection, 31, 143, 152–153, 191 PSTI controversies over, 49 creation of by Thai state, 50 definition, 41

Index Puasa Indic origins and Islamization of, 83–84, 86, 207 see Poso Q Qiblat in prayer, 120 when reading the Qur’an, 51 Qirat, see Merit, quantifibility of Qiyam, 118–119, 121 Qulhuwallah, see Qur’an Qul, see Qur’an Qur’an connection with salat and sedekoh, 104, 208 as discrete merit-making element, 140 as food for souls, 110 on Fridays, 109, 111, 116, 137, 153, 175, 190 handwritten by Ali, 53 Ikhalas, and concentration while reading, 98 importance in Ramadan, 103 lack of ability in reading, 103 material accompaniments to, 134, 141 other rewards of, 142 potency of, 141, 155, 191, 208 Qul, 96, 106–107 Qur’anic classes in Cabetigo, 107 reverence for, 104, 110 role in merit-making for the dead, 110, 148, 181 studying as meritorious, 133 Wudu before, 109 See also Merit-making rituals, discrete elements; Surah al-fathiha; Surah al-ikhlas, Surah Ya Sin; Qulhuwallah; Jago kubor; Ritual Specialists R Rabi’ Al-Awwal, see Mawlid Rahimmula, 45–46 Raja Phaya Tu Antara, 32–34, 51 See also Islamization Raka’at, 96, 111, 117–119, 122–123, 165–166, 170, 181, 219–220 Rama I establishment of Chakri dynasty, 26, 37 See also Bangkok

231 Rama VI, 38 policies of, 37 Rama V, see Chulalongkorn (Rama V) Ramadan as annual gracious provision for the religiously minimalist, 189 biggest merit-making occasion of the year, 181 Buko poso (PM. breaking the fast), 167 description of, 5 emphasis on ummah, 161 end of Ramadan celebrations, 216 exemptions from, 190 as gracious provision, 164, 196, 199 It’tikaf, 162–164, 180 lailatul adr, 162 as merit-making complex, 17, 88, 103 preparations in Sha’aban, 160 ramadan scale of merit, 160, 164–165, 180–181, 187, 194, 208 Semaye taroweh, 112, 165–166, 181, 198 Suhoor (Ar. pre-dawn meal), 162 three-fold division of, 84, 86 Umroh during, see Umroh wajib abstinences, 159–160, 177, 181 zakat fitrah, 161, 163 See also Poso; Hari Rayo; Merit-making complexes Reformism/reformists in Cabetigo, 78 general description of, 26 history of in Southeast Asia, 29 importance of anok soleh in, 120 merit-making rationales, 75 methods of merit transference by, 188 objections to traditionalist practices, 148 Thai and Malay terms for, 85 Religious identity, 13–14, 38, 66 importance of in religious anthropology, 205 Repentance, 123, 126, 154, 190 Resurrection and judgment, 186 Revivalism/Revivalists, see Tablighi Jama’at Riski (PM. material blessings), 109, 133, 154, 161–162, 186, 191, 195 Ritual specialists criticism and cynicism towards, 69, 91, 98, 125 payment/sedekoh to, 114, 124, 130, 132, 134, 137, 148, 155, 179, 189, 195 See also Tok babo, Tok guru, Tok ime, Tok pakir, Tok seh Rukon Islam, see Pillar of Islam

232 S Sacrifice, 10, 63, 176, 209 ethnographic approaches to, 10 Sadaka, see Sedekoh Salaf al-Salih, 31, 43 Salafiyyah attitudes to Tablighi Jama’at, 66 history in Middle East, 25 as method and movement, 43, 49 and Salaf al-Salih, 31, 43 Saudi-style, see Wahhabiyyah See also Lutfi; Haji Sulong; Muhammad Rashid Rida, Reformism/reformists Salaf, see Salafiyyah Salat, 10, 13, 17–18, 63, 72, 84–86, 88, 92, 94, 96, 103–104, 106, 110, 115–118, 120–123, 126, 135, 140, 143, 160, 166, 175, 178, 182, 197–198, 208–209, 215, 217–222 Salawat, see Mawlid Sanskrit in Bengali, 89 as Indic influence in Southeast Asia, 25 in Malay, 89 See also Merit-making rhetoric Sanskrit cosmopolis, 16, 25–27, 51, 83, 86, 101, 205 Satangt, 91, 118, 164, 171 Satun, 7, 38–41, 71–73, 206 Saudi-style salafism, see Wahhabiyyah Saum, 83, 86, 197 not replacing puasa as default, see Puasa; poso Search for equivalence as alternative to syncretism, 88 case-studies of, 111 See also Stewart, T.K. Sedekoh connection with merit-making feasts, 103 connection with Qur’an, 42 for the deceased, 17 as discrete merit-making element, 129, 141, 159 forms in Cabetigo, 6 as good deeds, 97 importance of ikhalah and halal funds in, 91 importance for ore meneko, 73, 78, 132, 137, 161, 194–195 See also Ore meneko as payment for du’o, 121 recipients of, 132, 137 revealing heart, 116

Index Thai and Malay terms for, 85 See also Sedekoh jariyah Sedekoh jariyah description of, 135 DISCONTINUATION of merit from, 14 forms of, 136 as functional substitute for funeral feasts, 148 Semangat, 150 Semaye duho, see Semaye sunnat Semaye godo, 116, 123, 170 Semaye hajat controversies concerning, 121 description of, 111 importance in house-warmings, 140 odd numbers in, 124 refreshments in, 124 sedekoh to prayers, 7 Semaye mayat description of, 110 as fardu khifayah, 121–122 paying prayers, 121 role in merit-making for the dead, 110 Semaye sunnat description of, 122 during Ramadan, 103 repairing leaks, 123 as tham bun, 119 Semaye tahajud, 11, 122–123, 154 Semaye taroweh, see Ramadan Semaye tuhar, see Semaye sunnat Sembahyang, 83–84, 86, 165, 197, 207 indic origins and Islamization of, 83, 86, 197, 207 Seru, see Haj Sewaeng bun, see Haj; Umroh Sha’aban, Nisfu, 160–161 Shared cosmology, 52, 199, 201, 208 Shawwal, 160, 167, 169–170, 181, 187 See also Hari Rayo; Poso Sunnat, rayo ne Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani, 16, 26, 44–45 as editor, 45 Shaykh Daud al-Fatani, 16, 26, 44–46 as writer, 45 Shaykh Said of Pasai, 33, 51 See also Islamization Siam, 36, 38–39, 74 As former name of Thailand, 37 Siam/Siamese, 4, 6, 16, 36–39, 48, 51–53, 74, 83, 205–206 See also Ayutthaya Singapore, 43, 71 Situational bilingualism, 77

Index Slametan Islamic credentials of, 140 ritual elements in, 130 studies of, 144 Songkhla, 6, 36–37, 52, 63, 72–73, 145, 185 Songkran, 220 SriWijaya, 26, 68 Stewart, T. K., 88–90, 101 Subahanaallah, see Tasbih Sufism importance in 12th and 13th century, 30 Indian influence in, 28 relationship to Sharia, 46 role in Islamization, 34 Sujud, 118–119, 163 Sunnah, 18, 51, 65, 113, 122, 138, 147–148, 177, 188–189, 196, 207 See also Ahl sunnah Sunnat comparison with wajib, 91 definition of, 94–95 denoted as tham bun, 83 elements of, 94 as extra merit accumulation, 7, 156 including mandoob and mustahabb, 93, 122 performance in Ramadan and Mecca, 93, 96 Supererogatory, see Sunnat Suplication, see Du’o Surah al-fathiha, 107–108, 111 Surah al-ikhlas, 109 Surah Ya Sin, 7, 105, 108–111, 113, 143 Surau, 52, 63, 77–78, 93, 98, 100, 120, 125, 139, 146, 151–153, 166 Surau Rim Khlong, 77–78, 93, 100, 125, 139, 146, 153, 166 Malay language at, 100 Syncretism, 17, 84, 88, 91, 101 Syukur, 152 T Tablighi Jama’at arrival in South Thailand, 48–51 in Bangkok, 48 methodology and Success in South Thailand, 49 origins, 49 presence of both traditionalists and reformists in, 49 relationship to salaf, 49 as revivalists, 47–48 spread to Southeast Asia, 46–48

233 Tahli, see Ngatek Tahmid, 142–143 Takbir, 117–118, 121, 142–143 Talqin, see Funerals Tamil, 30–31 Taqlid, 43, 65 Tasbih after semaye, 118 definition of, 142 at funeral feast, 143–144 merit-generating ability, 143 Tea shops, see Keda kopi Tengku Mahmud Mahyiddeen, 40 Terengganu, 35, 38, 52, 70, 73 Thai influences, 17, 25–53 nationalism, 38, 42 nation-state, 64, 72 See also Language, Thai; Cosmopolis, Thai; Siam/Siamese Thai Custom Decree (1939), 39–40 Thai Merit-making rhetoric, see Merit-making rhetoric, Thai Thai Muslim in Bangkok and their Malay origins, 7, 73 in Cabetigo, 197 of the upper south being leaves of the same tree with southern Malays, 199 See also Identifications, Thai Muslim, definition Thai Rathaniyom, see Thai Custom Decree (1939) Thai-zation of Cabetigo, 197 Malay resistance to, 12, 207 through legislation in twentieth century, 83–84 Tham bun confusion surrounding, 87 denoting non-merit-generating feasts, 86 as denoting ritual obligations, 84 as general religious activity, 15, 86, 101 importance in Thai religious rhetoric, 7, 17, 84, 91, 101, 197, 205 increasing Islam’s comprehensibility, 209 instinctive knowledge of by Thais, 86 islamization of in Thailand, 25–53 as merit-generation, 86 past assessments of, 208 as religious idiom, 86–87 in Theravada Buddhism, 7, 185, 209 three-fold conceptualization of, 84, 86–87 See also Merit-making rhetoric

234 Tham naa, 97, 197 Tham thaan, see Sedekoh Toba, see Repentance Tok babo blessing sedekoh, 155 cynicism about, 134 definition, 155 reading Qur’an for the deceased, 114 Tok guru blessing sedekoh, 155 reading Qur’an for the deceased, 114 respect for, 155 roles performed by, 150, 153, 155 Tok ime blessing sedekoh, 143–146 as leader of feasts, 130–131 as prayer leader, 143–144 reading Qur’an for the deceased, 141–144 respect for, 124, 137 responsibilities of, 137, 141 roles performed by, 120, 124, 130, 141, 143, 151–154, 181, 189 and semaye haja, 125 Tok pakir reading Qur’an for the deceased, 189 role in jago kubor, 112–113 Tok seh definition of, 174 misconduct by and suspicion of, 179 See also Wa’ upoh haji Toopthaen, 138–139 Torture of the grave (Ar. Adhab al-Qabr) dialectic function of, 190 effect of merit transferred to the dead on, 188–191 effect of weight of merit accumulated on dunio on, 188 exemptions from, 190 a motivation of merit transference, 188–190 Munkar and Nakir, 190 retributive or purgatorial nature of, 190 See also Alam al-barzakh Traditionalism/traditionalists in Cabetigo, 49–50 general description of history of in Southeast Asia, 47–48 importance of ritual specialists in, 47, 49 membership in Tablighi Jama’at, 47–49 merit-making rationales, 52–53 methods of merit transference by, 53–54 Thai and Malay terms for, 39, 41, 43–44, 47, 50–51

Index Translation forms of translation, 88 as search for equivalence, 88 search for equivalence by Bengali Muslims, 101 search for equivalence by Chinese Muslims, 101 of shariah into Thai, 90 using “non-Muslim” languages, 89 U Umroh description of, 84 as merit-making complex, see Merit-making complexes during Ramadan, 159–160 reasons for performance, 176–177 role in merit accumulation, 176–180 as sunnat pilgrimage, 179–180 Upper south comparison with far-south (Pattani, Yala, and Narathiwat), 52, 66, 73–75, 199 See also Satun; Songkhla; Nakhon Si Thammarat V Vajiravudh, see Rama VI Vassal, 36, 37, 51 Vassal System in Southeast Asia, 36–37, 51 Vernacular terms abbreviations of, 213 importance of, 1 W Wa’ arwo, see Funeral feasts Wahhabi, see Wahhabiyyah Wahhabiyyah definition, 42–43 differences to Salafiyyah, 43–44 history in Saudi, 42–44 occupation of Mecca and Medina, 43–44 relationship to resurgent Shi’ism, 41 Wajib contention about being denoted as tham bun, 93–94 definition of, 53 elements of, 93–94 as Islamic ideation, 93–94 See also Fardu Wakaf (endowment), see Sedekoh jariyah Waktu asar, 115 Waktu iso, 166 Waktu norib, 119

Index Waktu suboh, 119 Waktu suhur, 119 Wali Sanga, 33 Wa’ make, see Feasting complexes, merit-generating Wan di, 134, 137, 168, 208 Wa’ ngatek, see Funeral feasts Wan Muhammad Nor Mata, 41 Wa’ upoh haji contentions concerning, 189, 195 practice of, 181–182 See also Tok seh Wa’ wajike, 85, 130, 152 Widows, 134, 138, 155

235 Witir, see Semaye sunnat Wudu description of, 116 before reading the semaye and reading Qur’an, 116 See also Defilement Z Zakat, 5, 92–93, 95–96, 119, 130–131, 161–164, 180 See also Sedekoh Zanji, 140, 144, 149–150, 199 See also Mawlid