Zara Choudhary on the history of Islam and Muslims in Vietnam and visiting as a Muslim traveller
There it stood, where I least expected it. Perhaps not the most aesthetically pleasing building I’d ever seen, but there was something almost charming about the way it had stubbornly positioned itself amongst luxury hotels and expensive restaurants. Saigon Central Mosque’s four minarets awkwardly pointed towards the hazy sky, resisting the dominance of their towering neighbours.
Built in 1935 on the site of an earlier mosque, the building originally served Ho Chi Minh City’s Indian migrant community, the majority of which fled before the 1975 reunification of Vietnam. The blue and white exterior of the building created a keen sense of calm and tranquillity, away from the imposing roar of motorbike engines and the general bustle of the surrounding Dong Khoi area.
As I walked up the cool, marble steps of the mosque, a woman, dressed in black, approached me smiling. Her clothes, far from the lush green fields of Vietnam, conjured up images of the Arabian Desert, but her face, the only part of her that was visible, was unmistakeably Vietnamese. She greeted me warmly in Arabic and led me passed the male prayer hall and a sign that read “No femininity allowed” to the female prayer section on the left side of the building. Although we shared no common language, the woman, most likely in her forties, managed to effectively communicate that she was the Imam’s wife, as well as point out-that regular misdemeanour of mine- my fingernails were too long. Inside, an older, slightly frail looking woman sat alone; her husband had just recited the call for the evening prayer, so we lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder and prayed in congregation.
Both women, along with their husbands, belong to a generation of Vietnamese converts to Sunni Islam, mainly through contact with Sub-Continental and Malaysian traders and migrants during the last century. But Islam has a much deeper-rooted, and slightly complicated history here. Historians believe that Islam first reached Vietnamese shores before the eleventh century, due to the discovery of Kufic inscriptions on a gravestone dating back to 1035. There are suggestions that the third Caliph Uthman ibn Affan sent an official envoy to Vietnam and China in 650, during the Tang dynasty (though this is not certain), and that later, Arab trade ships made pit stops here en route to China.
The descendants of the earliest Vietnamese Muslims belong mainly to the Cham ethnic group based in the south of the country. However, due to their isolation from the rest of the Muslim world, the religion practiced by them today is fused with indigenous beliefs and rituals, resulting in significant variation from traditional Sunni Islam. Adherents are only required to pray once a week on a Friday, and only Priests observe the fast during Ramadan, for three days.
By the time the French colonized Vietnam in the nineteenth century, the major cities of Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City (then Saigon) were known to have thriving and diverse migrant communities of Malay, Indonesian, Indian, North African and Yemeni descent. However, the new political climate, created by regime change in the north of the country, and the subsequent conflict in the south, all but led to their disappearance.
Although the majority of Muslim migrants fled the country, the legacy of their communities still remains. Through contact with these migrants many Cham Muslims converted to mainstream Islam; the two women I stood alongside for the prayer are a testament of that legacy.
It is estimated that the number of Sunni Muslims in the south of the country stands at around 20,000, with the majority following the Shafi’i school of thought. Despite the Communist agenda of Vietnam in recent decades, most Vietnamese consider themselves Buddhist, with a significant minority of Christians. Muslims account for less than one per cent of the country’s population and the vast majority of these belong to the Cham ethnic group and practise a localized form of Islam.
Neighbouring Cambodia is home to a greater Cham population, and among them, a higher percentage of Sunni Muslims. When the new Socialist state of Vietnam was established in 1975, many Vietnamese Cham Muslims immigrated to countries such as Malaysia and Yemen, fearing religious persecution. This fear, thankfully, did not materialise, and Vietnamese Muslims have been able to live in relative peace. The same, sadly, cannot be said for Cambodian Muslims. During the Khmer Rouge period (1975-1979) the Cham population faced disproportionate violent discrimination due to their faith; it is thought that 500,000 ethnic Cham were killed by government forces and more than 130 mosques were destroyed. Today the situation is much improved; many mosques have been rebuilt with funding from Muslim states, and Cham Muslims officially have the right to practise their religion without fear of persecution.
Historically there have always been fewer Muslims in the north of Vietnam, something that remains unchanged today. In the capital, Hanoi however, a century old mosque, although in need of repair, still stands proudly. The white building, with its pagoda-like minaret is surrounded on a Friday with a black entourage of BMWs and Mercedes’, serving as a place of communal prayer for Muslim diplomats and ambassadors to the country. However, the preferred local mode of transport, the humble scooter, is also known to make its appearance in fair numbers.
The street opposite Saigon Central Mosque had presented me with my first and only opportunity to sample halal local cuisine during my stay in the country. Although I had come across halal Indian restaurants, finding halal local food had been a challenge thus far. Vegetarian food was relatively easy to find, but ensuring that it was completely halal had been difficult due mainly to language barriers.Opposite the mosque, the restaurant I settled on, from a choice of about half a dozen, was owned by an Indian woman and served both Vietnamese and Malaysian dishes. The diversity of the diners inside, suggested that the country had once again opened itself up to the world outside; a Malaysian couple that regularly made trips to the country on business sat dining nearby; a French man of Moroccan descent came over to say ‘salam’ as he was leaving; in just a few weeks in the country, I had met people from all over the world. A number of Americans, Europeans and Australians I had met during my stay had chosen to make the country their home; others, such as the numerous Indian chefs and waiters I had encountered, had come for work.
Before arriving in Vietnam I had wondered about the reaction I would get wearing hijab in a Socialist country, where outward displays of religion are generally frowned upon. My experience was one of a warm, welcoming people, who show a genuine curiosity towards visitors. As I stood waiting for a taxi in Hanoi, an old woman took it upon herself to teach me a greeting in Vietnamese; on other occasions I was assisted in crossing the terrifying death-traps that are Vietnamese roads- partly due, I’m sure, to my flawless impression of a rabbit caught in headlights. Far from facing looks of suspicion or distrust because of my clothing, I was often approached with kind words for the way I was dressed. People wanted to know where I was from and what had brought me to their country. Those who asked questions did so unassumingly and with sincerity.
As I walked back down the marble steps of the mosque later that night, the building stood illuminated against the shadowy sky, (not to mention the towering twenty-three storey Sheraton next door). Saigon Central Mosque is one of twelve active mosques in Ho Chi Minh City alone, which is perhaps a tribute to both the traditional tolerance of Vietnam’s Buddhist population, as well as the enduring faith of Vietnamese Muslims.
