Review: The Endangered Species by Hassan Ali M. Jaffer
Reviewer Sultan Somjee
Recently, I read The Endangered Species (Toronto, 2012, p. 514), a book by Hassan Ali M. Jaffer. Do not let the title mislead you. This book is not about biology. It is about the diminishing population of Ithna Asheri Khoja and the writer’s concern about the loss of the historical knowledge in the dwindling population of the community. Over a period of nine years, using his own resources Hassan Ali M. Jaffer has carefully recorded how the community came into existence from around the end of the 19th Century having broken away from the main Ismaili Khoja body. More correctly, they were known popularly as Satpanth Khojas then. Hassan Ali M. Jaffer writes about the key figures during the time of dissent and about the first Ithna Asheri Khoja sites such as mosques and burial grounds both on the Indian sub-continent and in East Africa. There are valuable historical pictures in the book. There are also official letters and documents from the 19th Century, priced archival material, produced verbatim for the reader. There is, for example, the nine page document from the Sunni Khoja archives that give an account of the history that is not easily accessible otherwise. The Sunni Khoja broke away from the Satpanthi body after the famous Bar Bhaiyo case against Hassan Ali Shah. What I like about this book is that the writer has done a lot of footwork, personally visiting the shrines and talking to descendents of makers of the Khoja history. Thus, his sentences carry his feelings making the book read like a journey of a searcher.
As an Ismaili Khoja, I am at a loss when it comes to explaining the secular history of my people. Yet all my life I have been hearing muted comments in my family and community about the great divide among the Khojas that occurred after the coming of Aga Khan I to India. That was just before the mid 19th Century. It was particularly difficult for me to find material based on Ismaili Khoja perspective when I was writing my forthcoming book, Bead Bai. Thus, I relied on Ithna Asheri Khoja internet sources to comprehend the background to the family stories, especially of women in faith-divided households. I wanted to put a human face to the conflicts by showing how the families were affected by the fracturing of the closely knit Khoja community following the court cases against the imam. The times thrust cousins against cousins, brothers against brothers, fathers against sons and there were even tensions between husbands and wives. I used to hear about the divided Ismaili-Ithna Asheri families and how in some towns they prayed separately under one roof. Something unimaginable now. They even shared communal meals as roji as was the tradition of their common Satpanthi forefathers. But I never quite knew how such a situation was possible and how did it come about until I read The Endangered Species.
Though too late for my book, I can now refer to The Endangered Species to others. Why? You may ask. For the simple reason that the author gives detailed information even if with greater emphasis on the Ithna Asheri side because that’s what the book is about. However, as mirrored information one can construct histories of the ‘other’ Khojas, the Sunni and Ismaili cousins of the Ithna Asheris, and work on collective memories from each other’s faith group before they fade away with the elders. Or they may fade away because of our reluctance to read and understand the views of the other side. In this, I see Hassan Ali M. Jaffer’s immense contribution to the bigger Khoja ethnic people of all faiths and their descendants. Important to mention is that I did not see bias against Sunni or Ismaili Khojas thus The Endangered Species makes a friendly read to understand how the one Khoja identity came to be fragmented into three Islamic and even Hindu reformist groups such as the Arya Samaji and Swaminayaran that other writers such as Dominique Sila Khan have mentioned.
However, the final question is: Do we even want to be known by our ethnic identity as Khojas? Does it sound too Indian and therefore Hindu by implication? Would we rather be associated with Persians or Arabs? Some have called Khojas a sect and others say they are a caste. Certainly, for the Ismailis today, a Khoja is some remote fellow in the past. To be identified as an Ismaili (i.e. by the faith) is everyday conversational and indeed proper. These are some of my thoughts that came to me while researching material for my book, a historical novel about the Satpanthis in Africa. Suddenly, I realized there is a vacuum in our community history of the last hundred years! The Endangered Species calls for reflection on where we as the Khojas come from to know where we are going in terms of our cultural maintenance. A heritage described by the geography of our ethnic origin that is carried forth through our folk dances and songs including the ginans, our languages, foods, attires, marriage and prayer rituals. A heritage to understand unique worship concepts but most importantly to know our shared social ideals. In that, it is a heritage to take pride in collectively as a community. But how do we explain to our children why we do the things we do?
Sultan Somjee http://thebeadbai.blogspot.com/
The Endangered Species is available from the author contact: "Hassan A M Jaffer" [email protected] or "Hassan A M Jaffer" [email protected]