Camelia Pasandaran – As millions of Muslims flocked to mosques across Indonesia on the morning of Idul Fitri last Thursday, a small group braved the early morning chill, considerable distance and narrow alleyways to get to the Al-Misbah mosque in Bekasi.
After the sermon and prayer, group members spilled out of the mosque's back door with glowing faces. The children ran around, shouting with joy, while the adults exchanged smiles and greetings. The heavy police presence outside the mosque didn't seem to dampen their festive spirit.
For the past two years the members of the Al-Misbah Ahmadiyah congregation had endured far worse conditions than those they had encountered on their long trek to the mosque this morning.
Some of them had been locked inside their mosque for weeks when it was sealed off by the authorities earlier this year, and all of them continued to be subjected to relentless opposition and invective from hard-line Islamic groups with the apparent backing of the Bekasi municipal administration.
But among those determined to enjoy the Idul Fitri moment was Rohim, an elderly man who slowly made his way out of the mosque and went to sit with the others at the nearby house of another congregation member.
"I used to be lazy. I rarely went to the mosque," he told the Jakarta Globe. "But all the opposition, rejection and other troubles made me a different man. After the problems started, I began coming here regularly, despite the distance from my home."
It takes Rohim half an hour to travel by motorcycle to the mosque from his home in North Bekasi. But he's not the only one who goes out of his way to pray at Al-Misbah.
While for many of the congregation members the mosque is within walking distance of their homes, 70-year-old Widarsih has to travel five kilometers to get there.
"Praise be to God who has allowed us to have this Idul Fitri prayer in the mosque," she said, smiling as she exited the two-story building.
"I've been visiting this mosque regularly for the past three years, until this year, when the government locked the gates. I've been patiently waiting to be able to get in again. After months of praying at different members' homes, we can finally pray inside, even if we have to get in through the back door and sometimes hide from the police."
No more than 60 people took part in Thursday's Idul Fitri prayer – far fewer than the 400 members that the mosque used to host regularly. Most of the members had gone back to their hometowns for the holiday. Those who remained behind, meanwhile, were determined not to cave into the pressure from hard-liners and government officials.
Imam Murti, who led the Idul Fitri prayer, said the hardship they have faced since 2011 is one of many obstacles they have faced.
"Trouble is God's sunnah [tradition or way] that we have to face as Ahmadiyah members here," he said toward the end of his sermon.
"This mosque was built by our forefathers who dreamed of having a great Ahmadiyah mosque. Should we blame them for building it here? We should be grateful instead for this trouble, which is a test of our faith."
The story of the mosque
Before Al-Misbah was built in 2001, the hundreds of Ahmadis living in Bekasi municipality had to travel several kilometers to pray at an Ahmadiyah mosque in neighboring Tambun. In 1988, they decided to raise funds to build their own mosque, and started scouting for an appropriate location.
They soon found the perfect location, a 1,300-square-meter empty lot on Jalan Terusan Pangrango in Jatibening subdistrict. In 1989 the construction of their mosque began.
"We were not funded by anyone," Ahmad Maulana, the head of security at the mosque, told the Globe. "Our own members raised the money from their own toil over time."
The congregation continued raising funds, and in 2001 they began building a bigger mosque, while the original one was turned into a guesthouse. Over the years they expanded and renovated the new building, all with their own money.
"We're all fully aware that we shouldn't spend all our income, but set some of it aside to build this mosque," Maulana said.
As time went by, the ranks of the congregation swelled as more people moved out to Bekasi and younger members joined.
"I've been an Ahmadi for 50 years now, but it was only three years ago, after I moved to Bekasi from East Jakarta, that I started visiting this mosque," said Widarsih, the commuting congregant.
"I may be old, but I'm not forgetful. You know why? Because I often read the Koran and pray in this mosque."
For years the burgeoning Ahmadiyah congregation built strong ties with other residents living in the vicinity of the mosque, with no sign of animosity or hostility from either side.
"They're nice and friendly," Dikki, an Ahmadi who lives next door to the mosque, said of his Sunni Muslim neighbors.
"Some of their children used to ride their bicycles in the front yard of the mosque before it was sealed off. Other neighbors often used to play badminton or other sports in the yard, and they even held big events there when a stage was required."
But this life of peace and harmony was soon shattered by a relentless and concerted effort by the government and newly arrived hard-line Islamic groups to bring religious activities at the mosque to a close.
When trouble comes calling
"The troubles started when we got a new mayor in Bekasi, Rahmat Effendi," Maulana said. "He used to pray at this mosque before he was elected, even though he's not an Ahmadi. But after his inauguration, things changed drastically."
In 2011, the mayor issued a bylaw banning all activities by the Ahmadiyah. In November that year, the Bekasi Public Order Agency (Satpol PP) made its first attempt to shut down the mosque by placing a large sign out front stating that all activities there had been ordered to cease.
While not succeeding in halting activities of the Ahmadis, the much-publicized ban did however spur a rising tide of hostility and opposition to the Ahmadiyah in other regions across the country.
The Islamic Defenders Front (FPI), a hard-line group notorious for its vigilantism and violence, piled in against the Al-Misbah congregation, thereby giving the authorities even more reason to justify their ban against the minority group.
In February this year, Rahmat told the Globe that he planned to shut down the mosque because it was the source of friction with the local community. "We want to prevent social clashes that will cause losses on all sides," he said. "The government needs to make a decision and stop it."
Rahmat Rahmadijaya, the former imam of the mosque, said the police had told the congregation the real reason the mosque was shut down was because the FPI planned to open a new branch in the area to focus its opposition to the Ahmadiyah. But the mayor denied this, saying the reason for his plan was because the Al-Misbah congregation members had ignored the earlier ban.
On March 8, the government put up another sign outside the mosque. This time, it cited a joint ministerial decree issued in 2008 restricting Ahmadiyah-related activities, a West Java gubernatorial regulation, an edict from the Indonesian Council of Ulema (MUI) and the Bekasi mayor's initial bylaw. Although the 2008 decree only prohibited the Ahmadis from spreading their faith and teachings, the municipal, provincial and MUI orders took a stronger stance.
That same day, the Satpol PP sealed off the entrance to the mosque.
On April 5, in response to the continued activities at the mosque, the Satpol PP officers enclosed the perimeter of the mosque in corrugated metal sheeting – even though 30 congregation members were still inside. The police allowed people to leave, but threatened to arrest anyone trying to go inside.
In May, Rahmat and local Sunni clerics said they would petition President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono to institute a national ban on the Ahmadiyah. Around the same time, FPI members were busy canvassing residents to sign a petition stating their objection and opposition to the mosque.
Standing defiant
"Why would I do that?" Inah, a non-Ahmadi Muslim, told the Globe on Thursday. "They're nice people. Why should I object to their being here?"
Throughout Ramadan, the authorities toned down their rhetoric against the congregation. No arrests were made of Ahmadis who entered the mosque through the back door. But when the Satpol PP heard about it, they showed up on July 19 with the intention of placing a bigger lock on the door.
Fortunately for the Ahmadis, the back of the mosque opened up onto the private property of an Ahmadi. "If they insisted, we threatened to sue them for trespassing on private property without a permit," Maulana said. "They canceled their plan."
'Deviant teaching'
The Islamic organizations and government officials who have spoken out against the Ahmadiyah have all accused the group of being heretical because one of the faith's key tenets is the belief that its founder, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, is Imam Mahdi, the prophesied redeemer who will rule before judgment day.
"The fact about the coming of Imam Mahdi is in the Koran," Maulana said. "The difference is, mainstream [Sunni] Muslims are still waiting, while we believe that he has already come."
He added that contrary to the popular belief among Indonesia's majority Sunni Muslims, "Ahmadiyah is 99 percent similar to mainstream Islam."
"We pray facing the same direction, we use the same Koran, read the same hadiths [guidelines]," Maulana said. "We're not deviant at all."
The Ahmadis have often tried to reason with the FPI mobs that routinely rally against them, but to no avail. Instead of trying to understand, the FPI has tried to drive a wedge between the congregation and its neighbors.
"We were surprised by the FPI's presence here and its claim that the rejection of the Ahmadis comes from the residents," Inah said. "None of the residents here have any problems with the mosque, including the neighborhood unit chief."
On the matter of the ideological difference, Inah said: "It's their problem with God, not mine. We mind our own business."
The FPI's campaign appears to be backfiring, with the group itself growing increasingly unpopular with the Jatibening residents, who oppose the plan by the group to open a new branch there.
A spiritual journey
Rohim was not born into an Ahmadiyah family. Leaning against the doorway of Dikki's house, his eyes light up as he harks back to his past. He was raised a Sunni Muslim by his parents, but went to a Catholic school – a set of circumstances that combined to keep him questioning his faith.
"If my name wasn't Rohim, I might have become a pastor by now. But my name is way too Islamic for a Catholic," he said.
It was the news of the persecution of the Ahmadiyah in Pakistan in 1974 that moved him deep within and compelled him to find out more about the little-known faith.
"I saw how the head of the Majlis Khuddam-ul Ahmadiya [one of the three sub-organizations of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community] in Pakistan was beaten, yet he stayed silent and didn't fight back," Rohim said, tears streaming down his face. "I was stunned with disbelief. What kind of faith could make a person like that?"
He traveled around Java, meeting with Ahmadiyah figures to find the answer. Nine weeks later, he decided to become an Ahmadi. Even as the pressure on the group keeps escalating, Rohim's faith remains unshaken.
"I've been through all kinds of obstacles to reach this stage of my faith. I've embraced Ahmadiyah through my own decision, not because of my parents. Why would I give it up under such pressure?" he said.
While in the past Rohim often didn't go to the mosque if he couldn't afford the bus fare, since the troubles began in 2011 he has made a point to go, no matter what stands in his way.
The congregation's fight is not over. They might still be able to get into the mosque through the back door, but the main entrance remains sealed off. The faithful, though, are undeterred. "They need to understand that rejection will only strengthen our faith," Rohim said.