Read the Seaーー Listening to the Waves of Johor Bahru
Abstract
This essay reflects on the sea of Johor Bahru through a Qur’anic perspective, exploring the relationship between observable signs (āyāt) and human interpretation. The Arabic origin of the place name — jawhar al-baḥr (“the jewel of the sea”) — serves as a starting point for examining how natural phenomena, language, and history intersect.
Drawing on the Qur’anic account of past peoples who were overcome by their own arrogance, the essay reads the sea not merely as a physical landscape but as a repository of signs. These signs are not only revealed in scripture but also presented in the world itself, requiring attentive observation and interpretation.
The roar of the sea and the unsettling experience of disrupted travel are considered as moments in which external phenomena and inner perception converge. In this convergence, the essay suggests that the Qur’anic call to “see” extends beyond textual revelation to encompass the world as a whole.
Ultimately, the essay proposes that the sea — like all of creation — must be “read” before it begins to “speak,” pointing toward a mode of interpretation that connects natural observation, historical awareness, and spiritual reflection.
An Endless Horizon
On this day, as the month of Ramaḍān enters its latter half, I sit on a long chair on a balcony overlooking the sea of Johor Bahru[1], letting myself be carried by the wind that brings with it the almost overwhelming roar of the waves. Having struggled with immigration procedures in Kuala Lumpur, I finally arrived in the early afternoon after transferring to a domestic flight one departure later than planned.
I had come here for a meeting related to the “Wind of Ascona” project, yet thanks to the generosity of its representative, I find myself unexpectedly in something like a resort setting.
“Johor Bahru” may not be a familiar place name to many. Yet football fans may recall the “Joy of Johor Bahru”[2], when Japan secured its first qualification for the FIFA World Cup in 1997.
This place name, which refers to a region once ruled by a sultanate, is in fact of Arabic origin. Translated literally, it means “the sea of jewels.” Beneath the horizon that stretches beyond the limits of vision, this expanse of emerald-colored sea makes such a name entirely fitting.
Two Seas: Baḥr and Laut
Let me add a brief explanation. “Johor” corresponds to the Arabic jawhar (جوهر), meaning “jewel,” while “Bahru” derives from baḥr (بحر), meaning “sea.” The presence of the letter “h” in the local spelling preserves this linguistic trace of “sea.”
More precisely, in Arabic the latter noun modifies the former; thus the meaning becomes “the jewel of the sea.” It is, in this sense, a sea connected to the wider world of Islam, extending even to the Ottoman sphere.
Before the arrival of Arabic, however, the word for “sea” in the Malay language was laut. The expression orang laut[3] refers to sea people — maritime dwellers and seafarers. Their world extended not only to nearby Borneo but also across the Indian Ocean, reaching as far as Madagascar.
The sea now spread before my eyes is laut, it is baḥr, and, as part of the South China Sea, it is also an “ocean.” It seems, indeed, to be a sea that knows many things.
Swallowed by the Sea
As I sat in the wind carrying the roar of the sea, I was reading the “Spider” (al-ʿAnkabūt) chapter of the Qur’an. It speaks of Qārūn, Firʿawn, and Hāmān — men who, despite receiving clear signs through Moses, persisted in arrogance upon the earth. Some among them were swallowed by the sea (Qur’an 29:39 ff.).
Sadly, wrongdoing is not confined to these three figures, nor is the sea limited to the one that engulfed Pharaoh and his hosts.
If so, then beneath the emerald-colored waters of this baḥr, too, there may lie swallowed the greed and arrogance of those who pursued worldly glory and splendor.
Yet it was not God who wronged them; they wronged themselves (Qur’an 29:40).
And it is God who created the heavens and the earth in truth, and in that are signs (āyāt) for those who believe (Qur’an 29:44).
These are signs that reveal the fate of those dazzled by jewels. They are signs through which the Qur’an repeatedly commands humanity to observe with their own eyes what became of those upon whom divine punishment descended.
Before the Sea Begins to Speak
Seen in this way, the sea before us is itself a sign of God. More precisely, it belongs to the category of signs that must be seen and interpreted[4]. For in the Qur’an, the sea is described, at the end of this world, as bursting forth or overflowing with intense heat[5]. By the time such events occur, however, it will already be too late. The signs of such upheaval are already appearing here and there. Before the decisive catastrophe arrives, we are called to make the effort to read these signs.
The original Arabic jawhar does not only mean “jewel,” but also “essence” or “substance.” Thus the sea of Johor is not only a jewel; it also contains within it signs of the greed and arrogance of those who were swallowed.
It is precisely because of the vast gap between what is hidden and the sea’s silence that the wind blows — at times howling, with a force capable of sweeping everything away. These, too, are unmistakably signs of God.
The Meaning of the Roar
The wind I felt in Johor Bahru resounded with a roar reminiscent of al-Qāriʿah (Qur’an 101)[6]. Though far from the shoreline, the sound of the waves was so loud that it stirred a deep unease within me.
On the morning of my scheduled departure, I received notice that my domestic flight — set to depart in a few hours — had been canceled. Waiting for the next flight would have made it impossible to connect to Haneda, where my car was parked. Nor could I afford to postpone my return.
It was as if that earlier unease had proven true.
I changed routes and airlines, and though I managed to find an alternative ticket, I could not secure the reservation in time. Even so, thanks to the prompt, precise, and generous assistance of the project host and staff, I was able — after a delay of ten hours — to secure a flight to Narita. I would like to take this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude.
Along the way, I was aided by several acts of what can only be called angelic kindness, and eventually made my way back to Haneda via Singapore, Ho Chi Minh City, and Narita. Al-ḥamdu liLlāh.
Yet the uneasy feeling brought by the roar of Johor Bahru has not entirely lifted. The sea to the west of Asia is in turmoil.
“Read the sea before the sea begins to speak.”
The warning contained in this “jewel” is by no means light. I intend to continue seeking the meaning of these signs.
Allāhu aʿlam
(God knows best.)
Footnotes
[2] “The Joy of Johor Bahru”: Refers to Japan’s qualification for its first FIFA World Cup in 1997.
[3] Orang laut: A term referring to sea peoples or maritime communities.
[4] On the distinction between “revealed signs” and “observable signs,” see the author’s essay: Why Are People Crushed? Two Forms of Arrogance Warned of by the Qur’an, especially the section “Two Revelations.”
[5] On the bursting or overflowing of the sea, see the author’s essays on Sūrat al-Infiṭār and Sūrat al-Takwīr.
[6] On al-Qāriʿah, see the author’s essays on Sūrat al-Qāriʿah.
https://note.com/assalaam_action/n/nd0e170d2a15e
https://note.com/assalaam_action/n/n8344d0e10126
Special Thanks to: ChatGPT
Title Image
“Jawhar al-Baḥr” photographed by the author (March 11, 2026)
Acknowledgements
This English version was prepared with the support of ChatGPT.
The author gratefully acknowledges its assistance in translation and linguistic clarification.