Tidur Sewaktu Khutbah: Apakah Puncanya?

I first learn to sleep during a Friday sermon when I was 12 years old. I was in Form 1 in boarding school.

Before that, the idea of sleeping during sermon was unheard of.  Talking during sermon on the other hand make sense, because all your friends will be there. But sleeping? Why walk to a mosque and sleep? Why not skip sermon altogether and just go late for Friday prayer? You walk to a mosque to sleep in that God awful position to wake up just for a cramp in your leg?

Well, that’s basically the kind of questions I would ask IF I know the idea of sleeping during sermon exist, but no I didn’t.  I learn that idea when I first felt sleepy in a small mosque in Jelebu in 2002, where the Bilal’s azan was deafening and he a near-deaf old man. And oh boy no one in their right mind would even think to question the need to sleep at that point.

I blame the system for that guilty pleasure. You know how restless life in boarding school is. Your life is scheduled out of your will. Prep petang, prep malam, sabtu pun nak buat prep jugak. Beratur for breakfast, beratur for lunch, dinner, tea, supper. Beratur for jamban yang elok. Beratur for shower yang tak bertakung. Turun floor bawah sebab air takde. Lari turun floor paling bawah sebab takde air jugak. Beratur for water cooler. Beratur Berebut nak beli jajan kat koop. Penat beratur kena potong pulak dengan senior. Tengah nak bersenang-lenang ada pulak senior pow Maggi and worst yet soh masak Maggi (sedap ke Maggi perisa finger and spit tu bang?). Then there’s roll call before sleep (or during grrr). Lights off at 11PM no matter you have done your homework or not. And sneaking out at 12 am to iron tomorrow’s uniform (because ironing during the day means glancing out of the ironing room’s door and pray no more seniors will come to cut the queue). And there was bullying, fire drills, club meetings, riadah (read: duduk tepi padang ). I can go on but I think you get the point; I have no time to breathe let alone to rest.

So, the moment you set your foot in the mosque during Friday prayer, you search for a perfect spot to sit and doze off. Well, it doesn’t have to be perfect actually. You may sit right under the speaker, and as loud as he try, the Bilal cannot wake you with his azan. Everybody did this, minus the pakciks from the kampong. I tell you, if you sit at the furthest saf at the back looking ahead, the safs were pakciks in colourful Baju Melayu, followed by headless kids in white Baju Melayu, headless, headless, headless, aaaand  headless kids in white Baju Melayu.

As the sermon ends, and the Bilal standing with what effort left in him,breathing in what volume of air his lungs could breathe in, he shouted “saaaaaaaaap!!!”. And then, what happened was an almost perfect synchronization of heads growing out of headless kids, rising the dead like zombies (exactly like zombies really because you got an assortment of fat zombies, skinny ones, zombies that cannot stand – sebab kebas,if it was a movie it was really realistic) and all of that maestroed by the Bilal. Kudos to you pakcik :)


*Did you read the title in Mazidul's voice? You should. Unless you are Mazidul*

*I guess I need a few more post on the subject "boarding school" alone. Remind me to write that up*

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