Ecology Koran in Room Number 13

In our cottage, room number thirteen always has a slanted reputation. Not haunted, nor is it a rare book storage, but because of its contents the students are the most eccentric. They discuss more often about life compared to memorization. If there is a yellow book that is opened, surely beside it is sachet coffee and the remaining half of it is burnt.

All the excitement broke out because of the most trivial thing: Pondok tap water began to die often. Usually twice a day. But lately, if sleepy in the morning hasn’t disappeared, the water has disappeared first.

“Wow, lest the well is used by bathing jinn,” Naim said while sitting in a joy.

But the next day, Syahdan brought more serious news.

“The land in the next village is to be mined by coal,” he said, folding the sarong. “The water will be murky. The dust can reach here in the dry season.”

Fathan, a santri, moved from the city that had only been two weeks in the room, immediately sat upright. “Mine? Seriously? This is a cottage, not a mine. What is the story?”

Syahdan, who is indeed a heavyweight bookworm, took out a newspaper clipping from his bookshelf which usually contains the book of Alfiyah. “Read here. Mine concessions. Many companies behind it are fictitious. But the permit is translucent. Usually because it is backed by officials.”

Rijal closed the book. “In the past, Imam Ghazali once said, if knowledge was not used to prevent damage on earth, his knowledge was backfire.”

Naim Nimbrung, “Bummerang is Australian weapons, huh?”

The atmosphere was quiet for a while, then exploded laughter.

But behind the laughter, there was an anxiety hanging. They are aware, the Koran every day but the well will be murky, it’s like learning to swim but in a leaky pool.

“Just like this,” said Syahdan, “We start from here. This room must be an example. Plastic is reduced, water is accommodated, don’t waste. We start first.”

Fathan smiled. Finally, there are also serious things in this room that are not just about the struggle of cireng or the interpretation debate while sleepy.

And that night, room 13 changed. Stay messy. There is still a poster “opponents of capitalism” which is dull. But there is a bottle of used water that is now a place for emergency reservoirs. There is a special bucket of washing water. And there is a new conversation:

“If you buy jumbo iced tea, say to his brother, if we bring a tumbler.”

“If you take a shower, turn off the faucet when sabunan.”

“If you wash, the used water is to flush plants.”

Sounds simple. But in the most noisy room, it’s like a small revolution. The Koran of Jurisprudence still goes. But that night, they began to recite the ecology. Not from the book, but from the rest of the tap water and the sound of a wrinkled newspaper.

And everything just started.

***

A few days after the experiment of reducing plastic and water savings, room 13 began to be a matter of talk.

“That’s the most noisy room but the most concerned about the environment,” said the santri next room while scooping porridge.

In the porch of the cottage, there was strange talks.

“Santri is like an NGO activist,” whispered one of the administrators.

“He said they wanted to hold a plastic recycling training,” continued another.

And the peak, one afternoon after Asar, came the most absurd news.

“The village chief wants to come next Friday.

“Why, how come?” Fathan gawked.

“I think there are reports that the cottage starts to make a fuss about the mine. It could be, we are considered to start making an unpleasant atmosphere.”

Rijal stared seriously, “If it’s like this, it means not just ecological Koran. We will also have a political recitation soon.”

“If it’s crowded, I share Cireng likes,” Naim said half joking.

“If it is crowded,” said Syahdan with a faint smile, “We bring the book. Let me know, if the santri not only understand halal haram food, but also halal policy.”

At night, room 13 as usual was noisy. But that night, it wasn’t just the sound of a fan damaged or the lizard of the seizure of insects. There is something heavier: discussion about the strategy of facing the Lurah’s visit.

“What if we invite villagers too? So that not only santri are noisy,” Fathan suggested.

“Citizens are dilemmatic,” Syahdan answered. “The mine is sometimes considered a blessing. There is work, there is money. But not all understand the long -term impact. We cannot just go.”

Rijal added, “In fiqh muamalah, buying and selling agricultural products may, but if it damages the environment that is the source of the lives of many people, it is in the category of madhat. The principle: take benefits, prevent damage.”

“Like buying cireng, you have to know when the oil is commensurate,” Naim said, sighing.

***

That night, in the midst of the smell of charred fashion and the rest of the tap water that lived half a bucket, they designed something that might never be in the history of the cottage.

An open discussion. Theme: “Mines, water, and the future of our village.”

Not a seminar. Not a debate. Just a light discussion. But for students room 13, it was a revolution.

And all agreed: The event they will hold right after Friday. In the porch of the cottage. The Lurah may come. Pondok management may participate. Villagers may sit together. And all can talk.

In the midst of busy preparing the event, Fathan wrote a big sentence on the paper poster:

“This is not just about eating illegal halal. But the future is illegal.”

And room 13 which is usually only noisy about the disappeared sandals and the seizure of cireng that night changed to the center of the most absurd movement: Santri Kampung challenged the logic of the mine.

This is not finished yet. But the scent of a small revolution has begun to smell, between cireng charred and papers that are starting to be full of records.

And once again, everything has just begun.

Continued ……

---

---

Writer: Sya’ban Fadol. H
Editor: Rara Zaryry