Pint-size Preachers

He gestures fervently from beneath the TV studio lights, passionately pronouncing the imperative of the Koran, denouncing corruption and cracking jokes.This is 10-year-old Rajib, one of the contestants on Pilihan Da’i Cilik (Choosing Little Preachers). Cameron Broadhurst met the youngsters.

The popular television competition that first aired during Ramadhan in 2005 on Lativi has now completed five contests to seek the best child preachers in the country. From auditions held in eight major cities throughout Indonesia to the grand finale in Jakarta, girls and boys as young as six strive to compete for the affections of their voting audience.

Sermons cover a broad range of moral issues: why environmental destruction is bad, keeping promises, even the final judgment. They give moral evaluations fluidly with references to the Koran or Hadiths, their voices rising and falling with praise to Allah and condemnation of the sins of society. Viewers eager to see their favorites make the next round text in votes, while a range of Muslim celebrities judge contestants’ skills. Like a precocious offspring of Indonesian Idol, Pildacil is all about making stars.

As filming the show takes three months, Lativi can squeeze out two seasons a year, bringing in new innovations or gimmicks each time. With a running time of two and a half hours, the banter between the kids, judges and celebrity presenters Tasya and David Chalik fills a lot of time, and advertising comes thick and fast.

While the fifth series, hitting 2.5 in the Nielsen ratings, hasn’t reached the highs of some of its forerunners, producer Heribowo Agus maintains the show remains popular with dedicated viewers.

“They’re already asking about Pildacil 6,” he said. “We’re afraid they’re already bored, but we refresh it every few months.

“Even people of other religions watch the show and give a positive response,” he adds, and proudly cites the award earned from the Indonesian Ulemas Council in December 2005.

Backstage, Pildacil 5’s reigning champ, 8-year-old Royyan, is getting ready to join winners and finalists from earlier series in a best-of collaboration with the well-known judges. But as we sit on the floor, Royyan plays shyly with a wind-up blue plastic cat, and reveals none of the spark of his highly polished stage performance.

When asked why he entered Pildacil he stares at the floor and says, “Because I want to do a sermon on Islam.”

Is this the same kid who two weeks ago dropped to his knees on stage and led the audience in an Islamic chant? Lativi’s PR woman scampers off to find a more communicative little preacher.

With Rajib, winner of Pildacil 3, it’s a different story. Here is a true performer on and off the stage. The West Javanese boy mimics this reporter behind his back and relishes posing for the camera and commanding attention. But when asked what his topic is for tonight, he can’t recall and rushes off to ask his father. He soon returns. Tonight’s sermon is “Funky but Sharia (Islamic)”.

And then there is 12-year-old Eno from South Sulawesi. The direct opposite of showy Rajib, she demonstrates a calm confidence “Thanks to Allah I am smart, so I am comfortable,” she said. It comes with having performed in front of a crowd more than 50 times.

“Many people want to know me in my city,” admits Eno. Is all the attention too much? “No, I like it,” she smiles. She says she is pleased to be able to tell everybody about Islam.

Just how are these kids produced?

The children’s mentor Rossie becomes a constant presence in their lives as they move through rounds of competition. Those who last take up to four months off school. “We use our hearts, and psychology,” she says.

Rossie receives training with the kids from a child psychologist employed by Lativi who, she says, teaches her “how to produce and handle them.”

There is of course a gap in maturity between the 8 and 12 year olds, but wasn’t it strange to see such young children giving religious sermons?

“Yes, for the first time,” says Rossie. “We give them training to support them. They should have consistency in meaning.” As to how much of their own sermon they actually understand, Rossie admits it is “not a lot”.

Alongside the showy conventions of television, there are also the conventions of Islam. It is common practice among Islamic schools for students to memorize the Koran. Most will only learn a chapter, but certain students are dedicated to memorizing the entire book. What appears on TV to be a great feat of memory, or an impressive knowledge of Islamic verses, may be unexceptional for many such students.

However, viewers outside of the target audience are often less than impressed with the display. While the show is made for children, the values mouthed by kids unaware of what they are actually saying are close to conservative Islamic thinking, and quite some distance from the sensibilities of many liberal Indonesians.

“I think it’s scary,” says Jakarta businesswoman Tika Sinaga. “I have seen it but I don’t want to watch it when it comes on. They have these young kids saying ‘you should not look at another man’s wife’! And preaching is just the kind of thing that should not be a competition. Competition among children should be in the world of children, things like spelling, acting,or painting.”

Muhajir Effendy is rector of Muhammadiyah University Malang, a major center of Islamic education where the show was filmed a couple of years ago. His ambivalence about the show’s design reflects the tensions between religious and commercial imperatives in its format.

“I think from an educational perspective it’s good for children because through this we can familiarize them in early childhood with Islamic values.”

Muhajir says children do not have to understand everything before they do it, such as praying five times daily from the age of eight. Yet he admits the kids’ passionate performances for their TV audience are a world away from what they are permitted or encouraged to do in the mosque.

“It is difficult because on the show the children have been drilled by their parents to speak about something they don’t understand…I’m not so happy watching Pildacil because of the development of the attitude of the children. Religion is something to be adapted by children naturally, not to be contested.”

But now it’s showtime.

Royyan, Awa and Rajib sit at one end of the couch, Niha and Eno at the other. To the applause of an enthusiastic crowd, they take to the stage one by one for a collaborative act with the judges. The comic back and forth between the kids and adults sends the audience into fits of laughter, while their moral observations elicit hums of approval.

Sitting next to the proud parents of one contestant, it isn’t hard to see how seductive the whole process must be for the children and their families.

With all the hype involved in this fusion of entertainment and Islam, it’s difficult to tell where these kids’ future will lie – in the mosques, or in front of the media?

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