Exodus

Dr Abdul-Azim Ahmed

“Abdul-Azim Ahmed is an academic by occupation, and an organiser by vocation. His scholarly pursuits as Deputy Director of the Islam-UK Centre at Cardiff University focus on contemporary religion, civil society and institutions, and as Secretary General Muslim Council of Wales, he leads a body of mosques, Muslim charities, and collectives. Azim lives in Cardiff, where he was born and raised, and is father to a young son . He enjoys anything that takes him away from his laptop screen, whether that is cycling, running, or completing poor quality DIY projects.”

Dr Abdul-Azim Ahmed is Deputy Director for the Centre for the Study of Islam in the UK at Cardiff University, and Secretary General of the Muslim Council of Wales. If you would like to participate in the research project, please email ahmedma1@cardiff.ac.uk.

If you drive south down Crwys Road in Cardiff, you’ll likely hit the lights just before Death Junction. As you wait for the lights to turn green, your eyes might want to the building on your right. It was, at one point the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist Chapel, and headquarters of the movement in Wales. Today, it is the Shah Jalal Mosque, named after Shah Jalal ad-Din Mujarrad, a thirteenth century saint who brought Islam to Sylhet, Bangladesh. The mosque was opened by Cardiff’s growing Bangladeshi Sylheti community in the late 1980s. The chapel is amongst my favourite mosques in Wales, it is beautiful inside and out, and has the aura of peace and comfort you’d desire from a place of worship. Sylhet and Wales have a long history, with an Eisteddfod held by missionaries in Sylhet in 1901. The building serves to represent much of the story of Muslims and Wales. The shared centrality of religion and community, but also the British Empire and colonization that is the dark backdrop to why Muslims came to these isles.

Everywhere you look in Wales, you’ll see signs of the Muslim community. It could be on Crwys Road in South Wales, but you could also travel to remote Anglesey, to the northern most tip of the island. There you would find the ancient church Llanbadrig, supposedly founded by St Patrick himself when he was washed ashore. The church, a simple and beautiful building of stone, hides a secret for those who look closely. The stain glass windows, rather than depicting Biblical scenes or the Church Fathers, is a blue mosaic in the geometric pattern more often seen in Islamic art. The inclusion of it was due to Lord Stanley, a Victorian aristocrat who funded its restoration but who was also a committed Muslim convert.

Exodus, a story of leaving home, and finding a new one, is a fitting theme to consider the stories of Muslims in Wales. Over the last few months, I’ve been researching the history of Muslims in Wales as part of a new project at the Centre for the Study of Islam in the UK. So far, it has involved trips to the archives, scouring through newspapers, and speaking to Muslims and collecting their “oral histories”. We know a good deal about the history of Muslims in Cardiff already through the work of Tiger Bay and the World, as well as academics such as Sophie Gilliat-Ray, Jody Mellor, Fred Halliday, Richard Lawless, Mohammed Seddon, and the eminent St Clair Drake. These works give us a picture of a nascent Muslim community in the Docks. Led by the enigmatic and energetic Sheikh Abdullah Ali al-Hakimi. The largely Yemeni and Somali Muslims in the Docks was described in one newspaper in the 1940s as “the heart of the Islamic community in Britain”.

Al-Hakimi was a Muslim leader ahead of his time. He founded the Noor al-Islam Mosque in Cardiff in 1938, as well as securing Muslim burial land in Western Cemetery that is still used today. He developed a relationship with officials and politicians, hosted them at dinners in City Hall or luncheons at his offices, he published English language works and an Arabic newsletter from his mosque, he organized conferences to build unity amongst the diverse Muslim population of Cardiff, and he sought to reinvigorate the teaching and practice of Islam. Britain, let alone Wales, would not see a Muslim leader of his calibre again until much later. There are more stories to be discovered however, and especially through oral history interviews, I’ve been seeking to capture them before they are lost. In Wales, the bulk of Muslim migration was post Second World War, and chronologically, adjacent to the Windrush Generation. These Muslim elders are the last link to a history that will not be preserved in news reports or archives. It was this generation who established the bulk of Wales 54 mosques. To truly appreciate the scope of this achievement the general picture of Britain needs to be understood. Wales, much like the UK, has seen a loss of community and community spaces. Chapels and churches, workmen’s institutes, libraries, and community centres have all been steadily declining. The post-War migration of Muslims, who largely didn’t speak English fluently, who didn’t have higher education or degrees, who were on the lowest end of the socio-economic ladder, bucked this trend for their own families. They built, through significant sacrifice, a community resource of incredible value that continue to serve the Musim and wider community today, trough foodbanks and charity drives, as well as offering a place of gathering and coming together.

Exodus, a story of leaving home, and finding a new one.

If the first Muslim chapter of Wales was al-Hakimi and the Muslims of the Docks, and the second chapter is post-War migration. The third chapter would be settlement from asylum seekers and refugees, whether following the Somali civil war in the nineties, the invasion of Afghanistan and subsequent withdrawal by Western troops, the persecution of the Syrian regime, or even most recently the conflict in Ukraine. These new communities bring with them a new dimension to the Muslim communities of Wales. The story of Muslims in Wales is, in my view, is best encapsulated by Berea Masjid. A chapel converted into a mosque in the mid-noughties, it serves a disparate Muslim community in the Valleys. It’s nestled amongst the hills so familiar to anyone driving through the A470. A picture from the 1940s shows a vibrant congregation at the chapel. It fell into disrepair in by the new millennium, until the local Muslim community purchased and re-opened it. A new photo was taken in 2022, and once again this building was full of life, a vibrant congregation, a strong sense of community, and a feeling of family amongst the worshippers. I hope as we learn more about the history of Muslims in Wales, it is not seen as an interesting footnote, but instead part of shared collective story. Islam is now a Welsh religion, and should be recognized as such.