27th Ramadan (1/1)

The Niu Jie mosque patronisers have planned to make a trip to Xian, where I and my entire family have just visited about a week ago. It is a two days-one night visit on which the travelling vans have been prepared earlier. Ravi is clearly on a blast to be coming back there again. The only difference of this trip is on a purpose of visiting and acknowledging the origins Chinese Hui there – Yeah, I like to put it that way. I haven’t visited the local towns there. There must be a lot of halal restaurants. And Xiumin is as well, coming. It would be a great idea if we bring him to our Grandma’s place. Well, if the manager has time though.It isn’t a lot of people who joins, but quite – The patronisers, including Mr. Kim (Xiumin’s Dad) and the local Muslims who often volunteer in the mosque, their children, Xiumin and his mother, Aunt Zheng and Ravi, and the last one is me. Unfortunately my parents aren’t participating because Dad refuses to, seeing his condition walking in crutches along the streets is sympathising and in account of that as well, my Mum’s also held behind.Today, we gather around in the parking lot at the mosque area with two packed travelling vans and a car that Ravi, Aunt Zheng and I are going to travel in – in personal - depart from here around six in the morning – pretty dawn, since the trip is expected to reach there around seven in the evening as the twelve hours journey sure takes up time worth for stopping by at some mosque on the way to perform as jamaah together. Luckily, the woman torture of the month has ended so gracefully, like the way I whirl my fingers to tick the last day on my calendar. I wouldn’t be left out anymore.Through the whole trip, Mum keeps reminding me to keep sticking with Aunt Zheng but I wouldn’t be hesitated though even if she doesn’t notice me earlier.The mirror reflection literally shines a view to my eyesight. And, as usual Ravi would annoy the hell out of me with Aunt Zheng continuously cuts in between. But I don’t even bother to shoot any mean words back at him, because I think, I’m too busy bothered with the reflection of myself. I don’t know a simple, silk coral hijab could transform someone ungrateful, with a mere glance on the mirror.“Aunt, do you think I look awkward in this?”“It wouldn’t be if you persist on that, dear.”“You look awkward most of the time, Minha.”“Ravi, focus on the road.” We chime in sync, before light giggles plough out of our mouth, rhythm with a scowling noise.Well, at least I don’t feel awkward to dig the sense of modest out of myself....The sun almost unlit and set when we reach our destination, tailing each other from behind. It is when we stopped at the Great Mosque of Xi’an, with welcoming arms from the local Huis and divine treats from them. After separated to women prayer section (Searching for the women prayer section is a pretty tough work though), I stick around with Aunt Zheng – from this moment, I shall call you my second mother.Tight-lipped, I spend the whole time listening to a friendly woman introducing us about this grand mosque.“This grand mosque of Xi’an is an old Chinese, traditional and antic type of architecture. It’s bewitching and worth your while if you spend most of your time travelling in here. Tourists from other countries and races also love to stop by and see the one of the earliest built mosque in China. It was built around the year of… 700. While the additional buildings built around here were built on 14th century.”The mosque is formed in a combination of Chinese and Arabic architecture, I guess, despite the temple-like awning. While on the way to the women prayer hall, I peek around the distinct surrounding through the lens of Dad’s Nikon. My eyes and the camera lens are utterly glued to each other, that it’s almost scary.This mosque practically has about five courtyards and each of them have their own gateway. The plants, gardens, pond and flowers are the adornment that completely whisk through the eyes of the visitors. The tranquillity is just whatnot. There are also inscribed stones stand proud amongst the gardens and halls. Not to mention, an old well is still kept in touched with the eyes, just so well.I look up at the pavilion and turret at the centre of the garden. “What are those used for, Aunt?”Aunt Zheng has been here before, so I can say, that she is more expert with the ways and buildings rooted here.“It is used to watch the moon, Minha.”And I keep track behind her, nodding silently by myself.“A long time ago, the mosque didn’t provide a private place for women to perform salah. They would ask us women to peform along with the men at the back, right side of the main prayer hall without any barrier or curtain like they serve in Niu Jie.”The almost five minutes’ walk finally grinds to a halt as we cease in front of another building, after going out of the Grand Mosque and through small, swerving and turn about alleys.“And nowadays, they have prepared a special place called, musalla-an-nisa.” I follow suit behind her, passing through bathrooms, toilets and a place to make wudhu and up the stairs to the second floor where a prayer room for women is now magically exist, inclusive with an air conditioner, a clock and a speaker. I assume that the speaker must be connected to the Great Mosque of Xi’an to make sure of every command voiced up by the imam.While I’m strolling inside the room, a few women are ready to break the fast, and the speaker starts to echo the adzan of Maghrib, after that.“Shut the camera, Minha. Let’s go preparing for iftar”“Coming, Aunt.”Keeping the camera safe, I walk after her.…After performing Maghrib prayer as jamaah, we tidy our things up and go down back to the Grand Mosque to have the feast that the Hui women have prepared – hot kueteow soup, some beef noodles and some other delicacies. There are also a group of western women breaking their fast on the same table with us. I bet they’re travellers like us.I watch the westerns women, who claimed themselves from England, having hard times eating the noodles with their chopsticks. Aunt Zheng finally asks the other woman to pass some spoons for the foreign ladies. That is the time when we get chummy, and get to know each other. Even though different races might separate us apart, but with the existence of the same religious, (Islam) it can just go smooth in a way.During the Isya’ time, we decide to stay until Taraweeh and after that, the patronisers will divide the group to respective booked rooms served in one of the buildings available here.