A Chinese convert is "content wherever she finds herself"

This article was first published on Openseam. Iman Wong is a Chinese convert from Singapore. She enjoys reading, brisk walking and listening to oldies. She currently volunteers at Darul Arqam, where she counsels new converts and teaches them about Islam and prayers.

By Iman Wong

It started way back in 1978. I had decided to embraced Islam. It was indeed a very trying and difficult period for me but I survived.

I lived in a kampong area in Geylang and there was a mosque near my home. Every morning I could hear the sounds of adhan I disliked it because it was noisy and interrupted my sleep. I had many different neighbours: Malays, Indians and Chinese. We played and ran around together. All our homes were always open and we only locked our front doors after midnight. It was so safe and so sound...

Then, I was studying in a Roman Catholic school, where all of us went to church, sang hymns and also studied catechism. The British nuns would read from the Bible and tell us stories even though we were non-Catholics. Incidentally, I remembered a handsome British priest who visited our class -- all of us were mesmerised by his big blue eyes. I was not keen or interested in being a Catholic as I did not feel anything when I looked at a statue of Jesus Christ.

My parents were Taoists and they only worshipped ancestors. I was a free thinker and I simply followed what they wanted me to do, like holding joss sticks and cleaning the altar of my late grandfather. Sometimes, I followed my mother to the temple to pray to deities, but I really disliked it. The smoke from the joss sticks and the solemn looks on the deities made me feel very uneasy whenever I visited the temple. For me, worshipping deities are definitely out, because deities are all made by men.

Then, I was aware that there was a God but I did not know how to get to Him. I was like a lost ship floating on the sea.

My dearest father was hardworking but a man of very few words. He was the only breadwinner in my family and when he was stressed out, he drowned his sorrows by drinking! I did not understand him too well as there was no communication between us at all. He was like our ‘commander’ from whom we only took orders. Then, I was rather rebellious, always wanting to do something different from my siblings.

One night, I did some soul searching and wondered if life should be so monotonous – eat, sleep, work, play? I started thinking about the meaning of life and concluded that there must be some superpower that created everything. My head kept pounding.

Who is He and where is He?

Finally, one day my question was answered. A Malay Muslim neighbour gave me a English translation of the Qur’an, written by Mohammed Pickthall. When I finally found some time to take a look, I read the first verse, Al Fatiha. The phrase, "Show us the straight path" (1:5) attracted me. I felt that this was the wake-up call for which I had been searching.

I began to attend classes at Darul Arqam under the late Cikgu Zaini, at Pheng Geck Avenue. He gave me the impression of a father, a respected teacher, and a knowledgeable person. He had a good sense of humour and in other words, a jolly good fellow. And he looked so Chinese too! My first question to him was, “Are you a Chinese?” and he said "No, I look Chinese but I am born Malay."

Of course, my parents didn’t know that I was attending Islamic courses. How would they have reacted! When I decided to convert in 1978, my father was so mad at me and did not speak to me for a year, but my mother was very supportive, alhamdulillah. My eldest sister was strongly against it because she is a Catholic. I embraced Islam without their blessings and I did feel very upset.

My faith fluctuated when I lost my late husband

Fortunately, I met Brother Kamar Lim, whom I greatly respect, and also the late Sister Saibah – both of whom became my mentors. They understood the conflict with my family and gave me a lot of support and encouragement. They said, keep praying and Allah will lighten your burden. I felt so much better after talking to both of them. Brother Kamar Lim asked me to be a council member with Darul Arqam and in short, Darul Arqam became my second home.

After a year, my father started speaking to me. But, he told me that he wanted his future son–in-law to be a Chinese. I was astounded but I had no choice but to take up his challenge! As it turned out, in the same year, I attended a youth camp in Taipei organised by the World Assembly Muslim Youth (WAMY) with another Muslim sister. I was really excited to meet so many Chinese Muslims in Taiwan and, guess what, there I also met my late husband. My late father was so happy that I was marrying a Chinese Muslim and we were blessed with a son, alhamdulillah.

In 1998, my late husband met with a car accident. I realised that death is inevitable. That took me to further understand that life in this world is not forever and that one day, we have to return to God whether we are ready to or not. My faith fluctuated when I lost my late husband but it was a trial that I had to quickly get over for the sake of my only son. I renewed my faith and occupied myself with classes and activities at Darul Arqam. Just like the Chinese saying, ji lai zhi ze an shi. Be content wherever you find yourself.

Time flies. I have embraced Islam for 38 years. Thank God that He blesses me till today. I am imperfect, I still have weakness and flaws in my journey to Islam but my faith keeps me going. New converts? Put your trust in Allah and everything will fall in its place, insha’allah.

The sustainability of selfless parents

This article originally appeared in the August 2014 Family issue of Aquila Style magazine.

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Why taking care of yourself is the first step to providing good care for your children.

Image: Fotolia

As children, my friends and I would compare our parents to one another. At five years old, I pleaded with my mother to wear skirts like the other mothers of my kindergarten classmates. When I was 14, I car-pooled to school with a neighbour and remember being amazed to learn that her mother – who worked full-time – went for massages regularly.

In comparison, my own mother was a full-time stay-at-home-mum, and we always employed a domestic worker as well. I never remembered her going to a spa or anything similar, even though I’m sure she was pretty stressed out running the logistics of a household, raising three children (one with special needs), and managing a live-in employee virtually by herself (my dad is the hands-off kind of father typical of his generation). I thought she was selfless, always putting others before herself, as mothers should ideally be.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I thought that way about motherhood, other than it was probably because society had normalised it. As a new mother myself, I understand that this model of selfless motherhood was not only unsustainable and unhealthy for me; it was also apt to drive me nuts. So, with the birth of our son six months ago as a turning point for our own household, my husband and I reconfigured our duties and came up with strategies to keep ourselves physically and mentally recharged.

Delegate and take turns

My husband and I consider ourselves co-parents, with our duties pretty evenly divided. While we both work, I have the fortune of working from home. Being able to care for your child while also pursuing your own interests is priceless to me.

There are certain chores that are exclusively mine: breastfeeding is one of them. My husband takes out the garbage and recycling. For all other chores, we take turns.

On Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays I am the “primary parent”, taking responsibility for diaper changes and entertaining the baby when he needs attention. My husband takes this role on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. On Fridays – what I consider my “day off” – I get to work undisturbed when my mother-in-law comes to babysit.

Pay someone

Exclusive breastfeeding takes energy. I often joke to my husband that I’ve already prepared 6–8 meals every day. In return, he’s in charge of preparing breakfasts and dinners every day. Both of us work full-time, so we find it affordable to get a cleaner to come every two weeks to do the heavier household work like vacuuming, wiping down surfaces, folding clothes and mopping the floor. It depends on what you consider the more difficult chores – laundry and cooking are easy for us.

My son is also reaching an age when he’s starting to recognise who his primary carers are, so he won’t be okay with an unfamiliar face. I’m lucky that our babysitter is an elderly Indonesian woman – my son probably finds our faces rather similar!

Reconceptualise “we” time

While I love spending time with my son, I think it’s also important to spend time with only my husband. Admittedly, “date nights” don’t happen much because, so far, going everywhere as a family unit is just easier for all of us.

I lucked out with my son being such a good sleeper and having a calm disposition. My husband and I still manage to do many things we used to do as a couple, like watching movies and going to the park. But it’s important to have some time to myself, too.

Find “me” time

While I get several opportunities a week to be by myself for a few hours, I don’t always take all the time off because of the hassle of pumping and storing breast milk for when I’m away. At this point in time, I feel that two hours of exercise a week is the right amount of time for me to recharge physically. I go to Pilates twice a week and a chiropractic adjustment once every few weeks. On some Fridays, I indulge in my biggest treat: spending an hour or two at a neighbourhood cafe with a book and a cup of tea.

Surprisingly, what I relish most about being by myself is that I can cycle to my destination. Even while I was pregnant it was my main mode of transport. (My son can’t join me yet; I still have to wait a few months before he can sit up properly in a bicycle child seat.)

Since becoming a mother I’ve had to let go of my adolescent notions of what it means to be a good parent. Not eating properly, not exercising and feeling stressed can negatively affect my ability to feed, play with and pay attention to my son, all of which ultimately affect our relationship.

I’ve also learned that it’s important to listen to yourself and your child, in order to figure out what works for you both. The individual needs of families vary tremendously, and it won’t be long before it is my son who is comparing me with his friends’ mums.

Image: Fotolia

For our own good.

She could not say that Mrs Denbigh's conduct was positively wrong - it might even be quite right; but it was inexpressibly repugnant to her to think of her father consulting with a stranger (...) to manage his daughter, so as to obtain the end he wished for; yes, even if that end was for her own good.

We grew up thinking this was normal, accepted and even, desirable. That as a child you should be controlled, managed and moulded. That as a daughter even more so, because it was for our own good.

A dark cloud came over Jemima's face. She did not like this close observation and constant comment upon her manners; and what had Ruth to do with it? 'I am glad you were pleased,' said she, very coldly. Then, after a pause, she added, 'But you have not told me what Mrs Denbigh had to do with my good behaviour.' 

'Did she not speak to you about it?' asked Mrs Bradshaw, looking up. 'No; why should she? She has no right to criticise what I do. She would not be so impertinent,' said Jemima, feeling very uncomfortable and suspicious.

We were told, scolded, beaten into believing that our negative feelings should be hidden, tamped down, swallowed into oblivion. The slurry of gossip disguised as information fed to those in authority over you about who they saw you with (the opposite sex will never just be 'a friend', but this is more believable if they are of a different ethnicity than you), and the passive-aggressive advice given to you to be obedient are meant to be accepted whole.

For our own good.

Quotes are from Elisabeth Gaskell's Ruth.

Watch: Malaysian NGO uncovers 8 misconceptions about polygamy

Where I grew up, polygamy was normalised through the actions, stories and tacit approval of the adults around me. Even though the negative side of having multiple wives were not ignored, there was no struggle for justice either. In retrospect, the apathy surrounding the women who were suffering is astounding.

A Malaysian NGO, Sisters in Islam (SIS), produced a short video illustrating the myths and realities around polygamy in Malaysia. From 2007 to 2012, the NGO carried out in-depth interviews with 63 respondents from polygamous families, on the impact that this marriage institution has in Malaysia. According to the information on their YouTube account:

"SIS hopes that the data gathered from our nationwide research on the impact of polygamy on families will prompt the relevant authorities to re-look and reform current Islamic Family Laws on polygamy in Malaysia."

[transcript below]

#1
People say... Polygamy is the undeniable right of a Muslim man.

In reality... Based on Surah An Nisa (Quran 4:3), polygamy is only allowed in order to protect the property and welfare of orphans whose fathers were killed in war.

#2
People say... Men practise polygamy to fulfill the sunnah (practice) of Prophet Muhammad.

In reality... 70% of husbands surveyed admitted to practising polygamy because of sexual attraction.

#3
People say... Co-wives tolerate polygamy for emotional and material reasons.

In reality... 42% of second wives work overtime to support household expenses.
32% were forced to contribute to expenses of the husband, his first wife and their children.
56% of husbands failed to provide sufficient nafkah (allowance), while some did not provide any allowance at all.

#4
People say... Only men with sufficient wealth practise polygamy.

In reality... Men who cannot afford to practise polygamy still do so.
70% of husbands interviewed earn MYR 3000 (USD 700) monthly or less.

#5
People say... Polygamous men divide their time fairly between their wives and children.

In reality... 50% of husbands do not discuss the distribution of time with their wives. (50% do.)
64% of first wives found that their husbands did not follow the arranged schedule.
42.5% of second wives and 77% of the first wife's children are unhappy with the arrangements.

#6
People say... Children do not mind their fathers being polygamous.

In reality... 87% of children interviewed find that polygamy has negatively affected their psychological wellbeing. Some fathers did not know to which wife a child belonged to. Some did not know the names, ages or birthdays of all of their children!
92% of children oppose polygamy because of their own experiences.

#7
People say... Polygamy brings happiness to husbands.

In reality... Husbands admit they suffer emotional stress due to time constraints, financial burdens and complaints from their wives and children.
47% of husbands work overtime and take on extra jobs.
50% admit that taking turns between houses is exhausting.

#8
People say... Malaysia's sharia family laws are fair in dealing with polygamy and family matters.

In reality... The laws are only ideal in theory; enforcement is extremely weak.
60% of first wives were not summoned to the Shariah Court to give their testimony on their husband's eligibility and capabilities for polygamy, before the judge granted a second marriage.
40% of polygamous marriages took place outside the country, mostly at the Thai border.
32% of those marriages did not register their marriages in Malaysia, thus neglecting the legal rights of the new wife and her children.

The Islamic Family Law Act 1984 states the requirements for a proposed [polygamous] marriage:

1. It must be both appropriate and necessary
2. Husband must be financially capable
3. Husband will treat all co-wives equally
4. It will not cause darar sharie (harm) to the existing wife/wives
5. It will not directly or indirectly lower the standard of living of existing wife/wives

However, the 1984 Act was amended in 1994. Husbands now no longer have to ensure that the standard of living of existing wife/wives remain the same (See #5 above).

In 2005, the 1984 Act was amended again to make polygamy easier for men. The proposed marriage only has to be appropriate OR necessary (See #1 above).

The 1984 requirements must be reinstated and strictly enforced. Polygamy should not bring happiness to only one party. The purpose of marriage is to create happiness between two people who love and feel compassion for one another (Quran 30:21).

And you will never be able to be equal between wives, even if you should strive [to do so]. So do not incline completely and leave another hanging. And if you amend and fear Allah - then indeed, Allah is ever Forgiving and Merciful. (Quran 4:129)

All data in this video was obtained from 'Impak poligami atas keluarga Muslim di semenanjung Malaysia' (2007-2012) [Impact of polygamy on Muslim families in Malaysia], a research collaboration between SIS and researchers from The National University of Malaysia (UKM), Malaysia Science University (USM) and Malaya University (UM).

On trying to not be an anak derhaka.

(This actually started out as a Facebook post, and then I realised I had more to say)

Even though I was brought up to listen to authority, I now know that a well lived life is more than just being "obedient". As a child, I was told plainly to obey my parents and obey teachers. Presumably, this was to prepare me for life as a wife who should obey her husband. (That didn't go down well, obviously.) Obedience was prized as a mark of a good child and a good student - and in the context of Singapore, a good citizen.

At the root of this was love. We thought that if we obeyed well enough, we would be loved. But then when I was much older I realised that love should not be bartered for obedience, especially in a child. The ideal parent was supposed to be a benevolent dictator: the father and/or mother held power by virtue of being older/bigger/the parent, but s/he was supposed to exercise it with responsibility and kindness towards the child. So everything that the parent asked for was supposed to always be in the child's interest. 

But the saying "absolute power always corrupts absolutely" couldn't be truer in this case. When does this benevolent power stop its reign? According to what I was taught, for girls it was supposed to stop when you got married. Then you were passed over to your husband, who would be your guardian (in other words, for women it never stops).

The last four years have been life-changing for me in many ways. Moving to a new country by accident, getting married (multiple times), giving birth, raising a little boy, and another big life decision in the works. Along the way I have had to make many decisions which were not exactly the most popular ones, and faced a lot of backlash and drama for it. Soul-sucking, but I won't go down without a fight. 

Along the way I've learned strategies to deal with it: explanation, direct resistance and hiding (in that order). Unfortunately, the strategies don't always work out because there's always that cloud of anak derhaka (Malay, lit. unfilial/disobedient child) hanging over your head. At some point, you start to realise that this kind of power and control uses fear woven into cultural stories and myths.

The most important thing I learned is this: the worst thing is, in the name of obedience, to let someone else make decisions for your life that you regret and/or resent. If you want to do something for your life, whether mainstream or offbeat, then do it. Just take responsibility for it - that's good enough for me.

If you do something that someone else wants, and you think it's part of being obedient or a good child or whatever, then learn to own it or leave it. If you don't have the time, the money, or the physical and emotional energy to carry it out, then just don't do it. The martyr mentality really kills me: you do something because it's "the right thing" and then you totally find yourself in a rut or you totally hate it. Or you whine and make everyone else's life hell because your own life is hell. 

I don't want that for myself and I don't want to carry such baggage down to my own children. I don't want to teach them to suffer in the name of blind obedience. I want to teach them to make careful and balanced decisions, consulting me if they feel that I can help. It's my job to cultivate that connection with them so that they feel I can be someone they can turn to. No child is going to come running to their parents for love out of nowhere when the child-parent relationship has always been that of power and control.

I have been told I don't do what I am "asked to do". I have also been told I am "too educated" (a comment reserved exclusively for a woman, though I'm amazed to hear such a thing) because I ask questions and refuse to be bullied into life-changing decisions. 

Thank you, I take these as compliments. My life is more than the sum of other people's ideas. 

"If the cucumbers are free, why should we eat satay?"

It's a tradition in my family (or perhaps in many other Malay families) that the first salary of one's first job is to be spent on a special meal for our nearest and dearest.

My mother was the first woman in her family to go to university, and after she graduated she got a job in television broadcasting. With her first month's wages she brought some of her brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces to eat satay.

'Aku teringat yang Mustakim tanya, "Berapa harganya?" Aku kata, bergantung pada berapa cucuk yang kita makan. Tapi aku kata, timunnya free. [Mus]takim kata, "Yuk, makan timun aje." Kelakar habis dia masa tu.'

[I recall Mustakim (the only brother) asking, "How much does [the satay] cost?" I told him, it depends on how many sticks we eat. But, I said, the cucumbers are for free. He then said, "Let's eat only cucumbers then." He was really very funny then.]