They Are My Boys
by Nur
Hannah Wan
“Salaam
Selay-kum, Ak! Salaam Selay-kum!”- For those of you not familiar with T.G.A.
vernacular, this was the greeting between students as they met on the streets
of New Jersey. In a swarm of baggy pants, hoodies and high tops, they touched
knuckles and bowed their heads in salute. Of course, what they had intended to
say was ‘Salaam Alay-kum’, the Arabic for ‘Peace be upon you,’ Ak being the
abbreviated slang term for Akhi, or my brother. Aimen chuckled as he recalled
this story to me, amused at how his boys had managed to take an ancient Middle
Eastern greeting and transform it into something uniquely theirs.
Imperfect
though their Arabic may have been, Aimen was still proud of their attempts-
their mispronounced greetings were a far cry from the profanities that would
have previously left their mouths. For most of them, the streets were familiar
turf. Abandoned by mothers who could no longer handle the challenge or kicked
out of school repeatedly for bad behaviour, most of these boys had street life
thrown at them with no choice but to grab with both hands.
At
least now they were spreading peace, and not their arms across the bonnet of a
cop’s car, face down, surrounded by a flood of sirens and blue flashing lights. In fact, three months into
T.G.A. schooling, some had already traded in their medallions for prayer beads-
they had come a long way from the lives they had previously lived, and were now
counting blessings instead.
Sulaiman
Sharif, or Brother Aimen as the boys would call him, is a teacher in the art of
silat, originally developed in the
Malay archipelago. Silat Seni Gayong, the particular style taught by Aimen, was
developed in the villages of Malaysia in 1813: -
“That
was the only thing we - the Malays - had at that time that belonged to us and
was readily available at nearly every other Malay village”.
Aimen’s
interest in the art began at the young age of nine and he soon became familiar
with several different forms of silat.
Eventually, in the early 90’s, the founder of Silat Seni Gayong, Dato’ Meor
Abdul Rahman, asked him to leave his native Malaysia and spread his knowledge
to the U.S.A. He held seminars at various locations including East Los Angeles
in California where he demonstrated at the Inosanto Academy, owned by Danny
Inosanto- martial arts legend Bruce Lee’s protégé. His next stop took him to
the rougher streets of Philadelphia, or- as the locals referred to it- The Wild Wild West Philly, so called
because of its reputation for drugs, gangs, shootings, and prostitution. He
describes how some mornings he would find himself sweeping bullet shells off
the pavements,
instead of leaves: “You ask anyone about 51st & Market street- they’ll know
what I’m talking about.”
It
was here that Aimen decided to open the first Halal food outlet in Philadelphia. He recalls that- “When we first
arrived, they had bullet proof glass at the counter, you know? Like in a bank,”
but “the first thing we did when we got there was take it down...the locals
thought I was crazy.”
Of
course, the story of a successful man is never complete without a woman guiding
the way. He did not journey alone through America’s roughest neighbourhoods.
His wife Nurliza Khalid was with him each step of the way.
Eventually, having earned a
reputation within the community, the couple were asked to “school-sit” a Muslim
private school whilst the owners were away. They were expected to teach the
academic syllabus as well as Islamic and were so successful that, as word
spread of their work, they were asked to teach privately in New Jersey. They
packed their bags to relocate, and it was here that the story of The T.G.A.
began.
So
what exactly is The T.G.A?
The
Taqwa Gayong Academy was set up unofficially in 1990, with twenty students
initially, mainly boys and mainly African American. As most had been suspended
or expelled from school, the T.G.A offered home schooling; many students were
pulled back a grade or two to go over subjects in which they performed poorly.
With over twenty students and only two teachers, Aimen and Nurliza split
students into groups and taught them everything offered by the American school
syllabus and more.
Children
came from all over, from the streets of West and North Philadelphia to New York
and Atlanta, as their parents (mainly single) or foster parents heard about the
school through simple word of mouth. Some days, boys would arrive at their
doorstep “with bee-hive hair and gold medallions around their necks...sometimes
with a trash bag in hand, carrying all they had.”
The
students lived and studied at the T.G.A residence. Having twenty students in a
one- bathroom, three-bedroom house proved to be a bit much, so the couple
decided to relocate and opted for one of the largest buildings in Paulsboro,
New Jersey. Eventually, the family grew to a total of thirty-two students.
Their youngest, *Armand and Shaun, had come to them at the ages of six and
seven, respectively. “[Armand] had been suspended from kindergarten six times!
He would pick a fight with anyone, he didn’t care what size,” Nurliza tells me.
He was sent to the T.G.A by foster parents who were on the brink of a “nervous
breakdown.”
His
cousin Shaun had a slightly different story. Having lost both his sister and
mother to AIDS while his father served a fifteen year sentence for rape, he was
also under foster care and prescribed with all the pills the doctors could
think of to ensure he too did not have the virus. He was also diagnosed with Attention Deficit
Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD, and so had an additional supply of pills to
complement the first set.
His foster mother pleaded with Aimen and Nurliza to take him in. “The first thing we did was send the bags of
pills home with the foster mum,” Nurliza says.
“Though it was difficult for him at first, he nevertheless persevered
and was drug-free for the rest of the time he was with us.” She explained how silat helped these two hyperactive
children: - “It did wonders for them, it channeled their hyper-activeness.
Armand was one of our best students- he actually graduated from high school
yesterday. Shaun now has a baby and is attending The University of Atlanta
where he obtained a football scholarship.”
Silat lessons took
place after academic sessions, where the boys would train for three solid
hours. Some of the more dedicated students would wake as early as 4am to gain
some additional training: “The students really enjoyed these sessions with
Aimen and their spirit reverberated through the entire tiny town of Paulsboro,”
says Nurliza of the energy she witnessed. “Prior to this, most of them would be
roaming the streets till 2-3am and at times cops had to be summoned to round
them up.”
Silat training also
immersed them into Malay culture, the way of life of the Nusantara that valued humility and respect, especially of elders.
“They would kiss the hands of their elders upon entry and exit, eat with their
hands, sit on the floor when their elders sat on chairs, wear kain pelikat (traditional attire), watch silat movies and eat Malay food.”
And,
of course, with Malay culture came the teachings of Islam. Nurliza and Aimen
were practicing Muslims, praying five times a day and fasting once a year, during
the month of Ramadhan. As some
students were born into Islam, they were able to revert to their old practices
under Aimen and Nurliza’s guidance. For those that weren’t, it was a chance for
them to gain a different perspective on life. “We never forced our beliefs upon
them,” says Aimen, “They were living with us, and so through that gained a
taste of the way we lived our lives”.
Although
an undeniably excellent form of discipline, I questioned whether teaching one
of the deadliest forms of martial arts to a group of “troubled’’ children and
teenagers ever had its drawbacks. “Yes, it was a big risk, I was teaching
problem kids but the problem they had wasn’t with us but their past,” replies
Aimen. “All we had to do was listen and provide the attention and care that was
missing from their pasts, together with the discipline that the silat provided, and the kids became just
kids. No longer as problematic.”
Nurliza
and Aimen ran the Taqwa Gayong Academy for thirteen years, providing shelter,
education and, most importantly, attention to children and teenagers that were
otherwise deemed problematic and troubled. Sadly, after the tragic events of
September 11th, things began to change. As the media were pointing the fingers
of blame at Islam, living in America as a Muslim became a lot more difficult.
“We
were not even able to leave our house,” says Nurliza, of the harassment that
they were now facing as a result of the perceived association between 911 and
Islam. The T.G.A, seen to be associated with Islam, received a letter from the Borough
with an order to “cease and desist”. I ask Aimen if they attempted to appeal
against the order to save the T.G.A, into which they had put in over a decade
of their life. “When they tell you leave, that’s it. No arguing,” replied
Aimen. The T.G.A was forced to shut down.
Nurliza
and Aimen are now settled back in Malaysia where they have established a
tuition centre. Aimen still teaches silat
and Nurliza is using her experience to complete a Masters degree in Youth
Studies. Looking back at the times they spent building up the T.G.A
in
America, Nurliza recalls the “sweat, blood and buckets of tears” endured during
those years. She also recalls the lessons she learnt: “Looking back now, the
students were actually the ones who taught me to fight back with the resilience
of youth that I borrowed from them to strengthen my inner resolve”.
They
are still in touch with their former students in the U.S.A, mainly via
Facebook. To their satisfaction, they have been able to see from there that
some of their former charges have graduated, got married and are themselves
proud fathers of their own children. Nurliza often looks back to those days
they spent in the United States, trying to help young people who have dropped
out of society to come back and contribute to it in ways that they never
thought possible.
Now,
in a different surrounding, even simple chores will bring her back to her past.
She may be stacking things into the shelves of her pantry and this may trigger
a memory of Ramadhan in Paulsboro where she had to keep her refrigerators
constantly stocked, even when funds were scarce, so that her students wouldn’t
go without. Cooking certain dishes will stir up memories of having to ward off
a stampede of hungry children out of her kitchen.
As
she looks back at old photographs to be used for a university project she is
reminded of grocery shopping on weekends where she would walk the streets of
New Jersey with an entourage of her T.G.A students. She laughs as she tells me
of some occasions where police officers would stop her and ask whether she was
being harassed. “It’s okay”, she would tell them calmly, “they are my boys”.
END
