Leap of Faith(?) : Nuzhat Shahzadi

We like to put trust in miracles, and beliefs provoked by the power of the unknown. All my life I have been mystified by inexplicable coincidences––happenings that made me wonder . . .

“There are more things in heaven and earth . . .” the famous line from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” pounds somewhere in my mind, drags it into a quandary from the premises of logic . . . The unknown is too vast to fathom in one life––through the ages, such questions remained unresolved, sucked into mystery.

When life becomes unmanageable, many let higher powers take control –– it’s a surrender as the suffering, the expected outcome of the tortuous existence seems too heavy. Perhaps resilience grows from powerlessness, sprouts from despair.

. . . Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes, a Catholic pilgrimage site in France is a destination for the sick and disabled people as the Lourdes water is believed to have miraculous powers to heal.

In some cultures, people believe that ancestors hold a powerful hold on the living––can protect them from harm and misery. This belief is so strong, so relentlessly powerful that science gets easily defeated.

In Hawaii, it’s believed that “aumakua” or ancestor gods are there to guide and protect family members. I found similar belief prevailing in Kiribati. It’s a Christian country (56% Catholics, 34% Protestants). However, ancestor worship runs parallel with the Church teachings. People converted to Christianity as the missionaries not only introduced the Christian faith but also provided additional incentives––good schooling for children, financial support, etc. Traditional beliefs are ingrained in the culture. Converts also found different ways of incorporating traditional religious practices withing the doctrines of Christianity.

When I was garlanded for the first time at a reception, I loved it and continued to be charmed by this amazing cultural practice throughout my tenure in Kiribati. Garlanding in a gathering is a symbol of celebration. Guests are garlanded as a sign of respect, and to keep them protected.

Nuzhat in a garland

“Don’t throw away your garland. You have to take it home and keep it.” This was an advice from Tessie, secretary of foreign affairs. She and I became good friends very quickly.

“Why is this so important?” I wanted to follow the correct practice (though at first, I thought she was pulling my leg).

“If you leave your garland behind, the spirit of the island will follow you . . .” she sounded serious.

I googled to learn more on garlanding, what to do with the garlands afterwards. I couldn’t find anything. I wanted to check the only library in the country which was based in Tarawa. The person/s managing the library informed me that there wasn’t anything that could be of assistance. I didn’t want to be haunted by the disturbed spirits . . . I discussed the garland-matter with other local friends. More or less the advice was to take the garlands back home after the meetings/celebrations. No one could tell me how and where to dispose of them eventually.

I used to attend public gatherings/meetings at least 3-4 times a week. My garlands at home formed a heap ––I hung them from the door knobs, window frames, back of my chairs in my 3-roomed-tiny bungalow. At one point the flowers and leaves dried and fell off . . .

Matike, our driver and I used to have discussions on different local issues. On the broken road, drive to my meetings with the government high officials/Ministers on the other side of the island took a long time.

The long road

“When you go for walks after office, never walk under coconut trees. Don’t trust coconuts, Nuzhat,” he said solemnly.

It was great advice––people did get badly hurt from falling coconuts that cracked their heads. And it’s not that simple to find a coconut-palm free place in Tarawa!
 

Matike (at the back) with the UN Joint Presence Office Team

. . . We were developing strategies on climate change. Every week, almost the king waves at high tide were becoming more menacing, scarier. Homes were flooded.

King wave

The President H.E. Anote Tong was championing the cause. Islands were sinking . . .

Berenike Iuta, our Child Protection Officer

Kiribati purchased 5500 acre Natoavatu Estate––a land from Fiji for relocating the entire nation. I wanted to understand Matike’s position on this matter.

“I am not going anywhere, Nuzhat. This is my land,” he shook his head firmly.

“But what happens when entire Tarawa sinks in the ocean?” I argued.

“No, no,” Matike smiled. “Nothing will happen. Our ancestors will protect us. You see, they are watching over us.” Matike grew up listening to the sounds of the waves . . . songs of the whales at night . . . rustling of coconut leaves . . . inhaling the smell of the waters––nestled in his lungs, forever.

When I visited the outer islands, I rubbed strands of sand on my face to embrace the spirit of the island as practiced. My local-colleagues offered food and cigarettes to ancestors at a marked location in a show of respect. It’s the custom.

. . . I know of a Muslim Bangladeshi clan that claims to be descendants of “peers/Fakirs,” meaning some sort of deities/spiritual persona/ancestors (?) . . . inside the shrine of these deities they leave food as offerings . . . this practice continues even today.

Offerings to revered ancestors and deities are practiced in many cultures, through the ages. It’s fascinating.

. . . “The gods are dead,” an elderly Maori said in a New Zealand Land Court hearing. “But gods cannot die,” said the judge. “They will die if there is no one who feeds them,” said the old man.

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