The Saka Begins

When you know you inherited an heirloom from your parents, you would feel a sense of pride – that out of all your siblings, you are the one most worthy for an inheritance – a possession that is handed down generations to generations.

Having a ‘saka’ knocking on your door literally every night, draws parallel to the sense of pride. Let me explain why. 

I’m not going to mince words, not going to pretend like this sort of problem does not exist. You’ve got to admit that some things could not be explained not because it doesn’t exist, but its existence could not be measured by our physical instruments.

How do you measure the strength of faith, how do you measure the intensity of love? There are signs like your blood pressure, your iris dilution, your heart beats count that can be used to gauge your inner feelings that could not be otherwise expressed in numbers. But there are literally dozens other things that could not be measured in real life values, that people academically dismiss them as non-existent. But it is ironic that using the same standards to measure God’s existence, you would conclude that God doesn’t exist.

Humans could not accept the fact that our technology is not advanced enough that we could not count and measure every parameter exist in the universe, only the ones that are naked to the eye and our mechanics. Only the ones that we could define into our rigid system of measurement. The easy way, they dismissed this unknowns altogether from scientific knowledge. And that lead us to this exact moment, how could we know some other things exist in our realm? And if they indeed exist, how do we measure their signs of existence? 

How do you measure rezeki, how do you measure rahmat, how do you measure iman, if we all sure that these stuff exist? Yup, they lend themselves as prime examples of how human technology yet to catch up with the unknowns. We know things, but not all these things could be measured definitively.

My father ‘sort of’ inherited one of the unknowns. It is, academically, laughable, but faith-wise, this is serious matter. Never in my 26 years of living would I see myself as the next person in line to receive this ‘inheritance’. I tried curing my father, and little did I know it was the window opportunity for this creature to target me. 

As a son, I would protect my father to whatever extend there is. If I could roll his wheelchair for 11,341 km from home to the Kaabah to be subject of the Almighty, then tried curing him does not even come close to that. 

I hated to unravel the past of his family, the history of great great grandfather who befriended these creatures and made pact with them to protect their lines for 7 generations to come. I didn’t even know my uncles and his family for all I know.

My father started to become severely affected by this ‘creature’ 3 years ago, and we knew something was not right. He was reluctant to tell the story of his family, but he knew he should be cured. He began to saw strange things; people visiting him late at night with strange outfits and regalia. People came to him and suckle on his toes (chuckles, that’s crazy – I know), people came and put things in his hand. We decided we should do something about it.  

Until I came into the picture. Long story short, I tried curing him through a ritual taught by an Ustaz, as any other ‘good’ son would do. And next thing I know, I’ve been followed.

It all started with a feeling of uneasiness when I’m alone, feeling like my back being scorched by sun even when I’m completely indoor, then the sudden goosebumps – my hair standing on its end. And secondly when it came at night, there are three first signs – one, flashes of white light. Secondly, the nudges, pulls and tucks on my hands, feet, and whatever limbs it could lay its metaphorical hands on and thirdly, the loud noises of people working upstairs.

Was I scared? I was. It happened so frequent that I feel like quitting my job. I could not sleep until 3-4 am in the morning and it would disturb me every now and then. Every time I close my eyes, there, somebody’s pulling the chair upstairs again. Every time I’m falling into sleep, somebody took my hand and smashed it onto the wall. I would spring up from the bed, sweating and breathing profusely.

I became annoyed, but it was as reluctant as fuck. I recited the Holy Quran and I could feel its anger, transmitted by waves of severe headaches and goosebumps into my head, I read all sorts of protection doas before I sleep, to no avail. My father soothes me, telling me that it just wants to be friends.

But how could you befriend a being who’s angry to the sound of Ayatul Kursi? How do you become friends with a creature who hated surah al-Falaq, the surah which explicitly invoking Allah for protection against creatures that crawl in intense darkness of the night? And how could you want to be accompanied by an unseen creature who hated every literal word of “Audzu bi kalimatillahittammati min syarrima khalaq”? 

This whole ordeal put an emotional strain on my relationship with my family, my father particularly. 

As funny as it sounds, there exist two exact opposite of opinions about my father that I gather from this experience. 1, I could not deny, though it sounds stupid, that I feel proud that somehow, I was proven to resemble my father closely. That for whatever reasons it chose my father, it could see the same values in me. My whole life I believe that my father is the polar opposite of me – the strict, hardworking father while I am the son who doesn’t listen. But this thing, out of all my siblings, deems that I am the closest to my father in some aspects that I could not tell. 

Secondly, I hated the fact that I had to carry this burden. I loathed the ancestors’ decision of befriending the unknowns that the effects still linger to this modern age. I did not even make a conscious decision to be included, why do I have to worry about this thing on top of my already hectic life? I grow remorseful against my own father, because he was the single thread connecting me to this torment. If I should have left before I tried curing him, I assume things will turn out differently.

I know there’s no logic or scientific background for my experience, but 500 years ago, the thought of radio wavelengths in the air that could transmit messages is crazy and illogical to the then populace. I am optimist that some other time in the future, we could figure this enigma out – that we could measure their existence – and even repel them, using science. 

I know my life has never been normal, but this has set the bar even higher. Trust me, thoughts of suicide crosses my mind several times, and the thought of quitting my career and move abroad even more so. But I must have faith, and to whoever reading this, please, pray for me to be safe from this creature’s harm. 

I'm still in denial, denying that it could affect me in any way, because I want to believe that my life is normal and that no silly creature could take my happiness away. But staying positive sometimes took too much toll on me.