Exploring Diversity of Black Muslims in London

THERE’S NO PLACE
CALLED
BLACK
ON THE MAP
A selection of stories and
memories exploring history,
heritage and identity
amongst African and
Afro-Caribbean Muslims
in London.
1

Introduction
Muslims in Britain are diverse, hailing from the UK
itself and all over the world. Yet the term ‘Muslim’ in
Britain has often been synonymous with the South
Asian communities.
Black Muslims are often overlooked, both within the
Muslim sphere and within society in general and
their voices and histories are repeatedly subverted
and lost within the wider, albeit limited, narrative of
British Muslim histories.
2

Working with our partners at the George Padmore Institute
and Brent Museum and Archives, this project endeavoured
to provide a snap shot of the different communities and
individuals that make up the black Muslim communities in
London and their stories from the 1950’s to the present day.
Credit: ©Everyday Muslim.
The communities are diverse and thus so were the oral
histories collected, from the Somali seaman who came to
England as a boy in the 1920’s, to the children of Caribbean
migrants who took the Islamic hip-hop scene by storm.
The collection is by no means exhaustive of the communities
and experiences of black British Muslims but, as the first
comprehensive archive collection devoted to black British
Muslims, it hopes to go some way in highlighting their
histories and contributions and creating a shift in how
minority communities’ voices are included in British history.
Credit: ©George Padmore Institute Archive.
Rashid Nix
Credit: ©Everyday Muslim.
Credit: ©George Padmore Institute Archive.
3

The Historical Black Presence in Britain
There has been a black Muslim presence in Britain
for centuries, from the ‘Blackmoors’ of the Tudor and
Stuart Courts, to the Georgian period when Ayuba ben
Suleiman Diallo, a freed slave from present-day Senegal,
helped translate collections belonging to Sir Hans Sloane
that’s would subsequently become the foundation of the
British Museum.
The early Twentieth Century saw Egyptian-Sudanese actor
and journalist Dusé Mohamed Ali establish The Africa
and Orient Review in 1912 which became the first journal
created and written for the black community in Britain.
Some of the earliest fledgling black and African communities
could be found in Britain’s port cities like London, Liverpool
and Cardiff. These communities were made up of mostly
men, many of whom arrived in Britain having worked on
board the British Merchant Navy ships.
Ali Ali came to the UK in the late 1920’s on a merchant ship
from Berbera in Somalia aged around sixteen. He worked
with the British merchant navy travelling far and wide, even
serving during World War II. On one of his stays in London
he met Niamh, the daughter of Irish immigrants. They fell
in love and, against her father’s wishes, got married in 1939
just before the beginning of the Second World War. His
granddaughter, Cawo Ali, remembers Niamh describing how
the newlyweds stayed in a boarding house for foreign men
in their first weeks of marriage:
4
Credit: ©George Padmore Institute Archive.

NO BLACK
NO IRISH
NO DOG
“When they first got married… they lived in a house full
of single men from Somalia and Nigeria and India and
people from all over the world. My grandfather he asked
his roommates at the time
(if they could have the room) and because they were
newly weds his roommates moved out into other rooms
in the house so that they had that room to themselves for
a bit until they found a room for themselves.” – Cawo Ali,
born in Berbera, Somalia, 1965, arrived in London in 1985.
Finding someone who was happy and willing to rent
a room to a black man and, even more controversially at the
time, to an inter-racial couple was no easy feat. They finally
found a small attic room to rent in Whitechapel from an
elderly English lady who had been brought up in India.
In later decades, new migrants would face the same
discrimination trying to find accommodation.
5

Education
6
During the period of the British Empire education
in Britain was seen as vital for individuals to be
distinguished from others in their respective careers.
Even after independence many considered qualifications
from Britain as intrinsic to bettering their prospects
back home and in the 1950’s and 1960’s there was an
increase in students, particularly from the so-called
Commonwealth, coming to study at universities.
While the majority of students were male, there were also
a handful of female students. Rabiatu Yakubu, a teacher,
won a scholarship and came to London from Ghana in
1960 to undertake a supplementary teaching qualification
at the London Institute of Education. Rabiatu’s story is
more extraordinary given that in order to access ‘Western’
education she had to attend church schools. She recalls
how the majority of her cousins were not allowed to attend
those schools for fear conversion. Her father however,
saw it as a means of her receiving a good education and
sent her away to a church-run boarding school. When the
opportunity arose for her to apply for a scholarship to study
in London, she was hesitant and it was her father who filled
out the application for her.
“I came for what was meant to be one year. I was the only
black student in my class and apart from one young man
from India we were the only students from abroad. When
I did my teaching practise in a school in north London I
was the first black person some people had seen! I was
not planning to stay here. In our minds we were getting
ourselves educated so we could go back home and help
in getting our country back on its feet after being under
British colonial rule… But some of us, like me, stayed in
England.” – Rabiatu Yakubu, born in 1939 in Tamale, Ghana,
came to England in 1960.
After completing her training, Rabiatu was offered a teaching
post in a school in Leyton. She retired from teaching in 2002
after a 40-year career as a mathematics teacher.
Many others who came for education also found employment
after graduating and remained in Britain. However, life as
student in an unfamiliar place was at times daunting. As
a means of socialising and creating a network of support
students from abroad often set up informal societies. In
the 1950’s a group of Nigerian Muslim students studying in
London formed such a group. By 1961 the group had become
so popular that it was formally established as a branch of the
Muslim Association of Nigeria in the UK.

In the context of pre and post-independence, churchsponsored
education in Nigeria these students found it
important to maintain their religious identity. The group held
religious gatherings and came together for breaking the
fast during the holy month of Ramadan and for celebrations
during Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Adha. Celebrations were also
held when members of the association passed exams and
farewell ceremonies were arranged when students returned
to Nigeria.
Credit: ©George Padmore Institute Archive.
Credit: ©George Padmore Institute Archive.
7

Work
The British Nationality Act of 1948 allowed
British subjects and subsequently those of
former colonies to enter the UK freely and seek
work. However, the majority came due to the
British governments post-war drive to fill the
labour shortage in not only menial sectors but
also professional occupations such as nurses
and doctors.
Yusuf Olayiwola’s father came to Britain in 1959
after British government emissaries came to Lagos,
Nigeria to recruit medical staff due to the shortage
of doctors in the NHS. Initially he was sent to work
as a GP in a mining village in south Wales. In 1964
he transferred to a GP surgery in south London.
That was the year Yusuf, aged eight, joined his father
along with his mother and younger sister Aminatu.
“He worked hard. He worked really hard, despite
the racism from patients. I remember him telling
me how he had to start all over again after coming
from Wales. He had thought London would be more
accepting but he had to work through it all again,
working through the prejudice he experienced,
changing people’s hearts, proving he was a good
doctor…He always said that without the likes of him
the NHS would have been finished a long time ago
and it’s so true.” – Yusuf Olayiwola, arrived in London
in 1964.
Others found that their qualifications meant little in
the UK. Taiwo Ali arrived to join her husband who had
been transferred to London from Nigeria for work. She
had worked as a qualified doctor and reached the
pinnacle of her career back home but discovered in the
UK her experience meant nothing and she would have
to retrain. While Taiwo was able to start over and is now
a radiologist, others resorted to menial jobs just to
provide for their families.
8

As with the case of Taiwo’s husband, several
interviewees came to London through their
employment, having been posted or transferred.
Adamu Kamara transferred from working in
Sierra Leone to work for the Sierra Leonean High
Commission in London as a chauffeur in 1966.
The job meant he and his family lived in a house at
the back of the High Commission which was then
located off Great Portland Street. His son, Ali Kamara,
remembers growing up and sneaking into delegate
parties as a child. In 1981 Adamu received an honour
for the work he did for the High Commission from the
president of Sierra Leone at the time, Siaka Stevens.
Sierra
Leone
embassy
staff
picture.
Credit:
©Everyday
Muslim
Ali Kamara
Credit:
©Everyday
Muslim
“...HE ALWAYS SAID
THAT WITHOUT THE LIKES OF HIM,
THE NHS WOULD HAVE BEEN FINISHED
A LONG TIME AGO...”
YUSUF OLAYIWOLA
(Top) Sierra Leone embassy staff picture.
9

Finding Refuge
Refugees fleeing war and political conflict have
often found sanctuary in Britain. There had been a
small Somali community in the UK for some time, but
the numbers of Somalis coming to Britain increased
significantly in the 1990’s during the civil war. Local
authorities and the community itself rallied around
to provide a network of support for the newly
arrived. For example in Camden a women’s centre
held sewing classes in the basement of a house on
Hemstal Road which was run by a Polish lady every
Wednesday and Friday afternoon.
Mohamed Ali, who had arrived in Britain from
Somalia as a boy of fourteen in the 1960’s helped
at community centres and set up a makeshift help
centre at his father’s home in Shadwell, east London
translating and filling in documents and forms for
the Somali refugees arriving in the 1980’s and 1990’s.
Amir Kabashi came to London in the early 1990’s from
Sudan as a young boy. War was brewing in Sudan
and his mother acted quickly making sure the family
escaped to London, where his aunt already lived, in the
space of two weeks:
“I remember it cause I was about to join a football
team, in Sudan, at the age of eight. And I was really
looking forward to getting my football boots...And I
think there was a war breaking out. But when I look at
it now, I didn’t know. War was about to break out. And
stuff like that, so we just had to pack out and leave...
I did not know that I was going to be living here [in
London] like almost forever. Do you see what I mean?
I just wanted to get back and play football.” – Amir
Kabashi, 1990’s.
10

“...I DID NOT KNOW
WHAT TO DO.
MY GRANDFATHER
SAW ME FREEZE,
NOT MOVE, BARELY BREATHING
AND HE HAD TO CALM ME DOWN.”
CAWO ALI.
Trying to settle into life in Britain for refugees was
not easy and finding a semblance of normalcy in
London did not erase the trauma of fleeing war. One
anecdote from the interviews illustrates this clearly:
“Coming from a warzone, having memories of
gunfire and the fear in your mother’s eyes is
not something you can forget. I did not know
about Bonfire Night when I first came here and I
remember hearing explosions and I froze, I did not
know what to do. My grandfather saw me freeze,
not move, barely breathing and he had to calm me
down.” – Cawo Ali, born in Berbera, Somalia, 1965.
11

Creating Spaces and Places for Worship
The majority of mosques and religious spaces already
established in London belonged to specific communities
and were often divided along ethnic or national lines.
While there were mosques and prayer spaces such as
the Muslim Association of Nigeria on Old Kent Road
in South London, which was established in 1994, the
majority of mosques catered to their Asian or Arab
congregations.
Some interviewees who had converted to Islam,
particularly those of Afro-Caribbean decent, often faced
hostility from within Muslim communities.
“I guess being, being in a country where the majority of
Muslims are not black, people tend to feel that other
people have ownership over the religion as well. That
there is sort of, the religion belongs to them, and that
black people, African people are joining their religion.”
– Ahmed Ikhlas
Abu Bakr James recalls how this animosity and stereotyping
of black people by other Muslims led to initiatives in creating
spaces that allowed them to practice their religion free of
discrimination and racism. One such place that emerged
in the 1970’s, Abu Bakr recalls, was an informal mosque
in a squatted house in Ladbroke Grove.
“We were able to squat a property in Ladbroke Grove and
convert it into a mosque and tried to encourage people to
come to that building… And people who were coming to
Islam, us Caribbean people, would go there, because many
people wouldn’t accommodate us - because some people
would say that we are bad, people are smoking marijuana,
people are doing this, the violence. So we had to try to
create our own little community.” – Abu Bakr James.
Another such space was at the Granville Centre on Carlton
Vale in Kilburn. In the 1990’s a Jamaican convert to Islam
rented out the centre every Friday. While the vast majority of
mosques in the area conducted the Friday sermons in either
Arabic or Urdu, the sermons here were conducted in English.
12

...WE WERE ABLE
TO CONVERT
A PROPERTY
INTO A MOSQUE...
ABU BAKR JAMES
The Friday prayers at the Granville Centre became popular
with the convert Afro-Caribbean community. During Eid the
centre would also be rented out and would host a bazaar
offering halal food with a Caribbean twist.
While some mosques and spaces were established primarily
by and for certain congregations, many now have a diverse
group of worshippers.
Abu Bakr James
Credit: ©Everyday Muslim
13

Culinary Connections
Finding ingredients to recreate dishes from home
was difficult for those who first arrived. In the 1960’s
and 1970’s Yusuf Olayiwola remembers his mother
ordering specific ingredients from people due to
arrive in London from Nigeria which they would bring
with them in suitcases. As the decades passed and
communities grew, shops were established selling
ingredients that catered to their needs.
For many, the importance of maintaining and
expressing a diasporic or cultural identity often
manifested itself heavily in the food that was
prepared within households.
“Food was key in making everything feel that little
bit more familiar, more comforting when you are so
far away from the place you call home. The moment
my mother came here and knew she would never see
Sudan again she only made food from home. She
would say she was keeping Sudan alive in her by
cooking.” – Randa Murad, born in Khartoum, Sudan,
1965, came to London 1983.
(Above) Convenience store selling Afro-Caribbean, African and Indian products,
Luton 1960’s.
14

While the older generations who had migrated
to Britain often sought to maintain their culinary
traditions, those growing up, at times, wanted to
explore other foods as a means of fitting in. Aminatu
Olayiwola remembers the rare occasions when she and
her brother were allowed to have fish and chips.
“It would be like a battle has been won between
myself and my brother against our parents! My
friends always had fish and chips and things like
that and we were never allowed so it was victory!
But throughout the meal we’d get my dad grumbling
about how bland the food is and that it tastes like
cardboard. And then when we’d finish, my mum –
she didn’t consider fish and chips food, more like an
appetizer – she’d bring in the rice and meat and tell
us to eat!” – Aminatu Olayiwola, arrived in London in
1964, born in Lagos, Nigeria in 1960.
FISH N CHIPS?
...TASTES LIKE
CARDBOARD!
AMINATU OLAYIWOLA
15

Rhythm and Roots
Music and art were, and are, avenues in which young black
Muslims often found a means of expressing themselves
and became platforms for voicing their opinions and
experiences. For some interviewees like, Mark Sinckler,
music was how he was introduced to Islam.
For several interviewees their initial foray into hip-hop, rap
and reggae had little to do with their Muslim identities but
more to do with expressing their black identities through
these mediums.
In the early 1990’s one interviewee, Ali Kamara released
a reggae track called ‘I’m No Juvenile Delinquent’. The
single was taken on by the Harlesden-based Jet Star
record distribution company. Run by the Palmer brothers
the company was one of the largest distributers of black
music in Britain, specialising in reggae. In later decades
Ali transitioned to performing Nashids (Islamic devotional
songs), which he continues to write and perform.
In the late 1990’s and the early 2000’s Islamic hip-hop
emerged onto the music scene such as Mecca2Medina and
Poetic Pilgrimage. This was seen by several interviewees as
a form of asserting their identity, combining their religious
and cultural identities in the face of both aspects often
being denied or side-lined.
“As a performer I turn up to the stage with all that I am,
all of my identities are present. I speak from a point of
intersection. This being with all of these identities, so my
expression is indicative of who I am and how those like me
think.” – Tanya Muneera Williams, one part of the duo
Poetic Pilgrimage.
“...AS A PERFORMER
I TURN UP TO THE STAGE
WITH ALL THAT I AM...”
TANYA MUNEERA WILLIAMS - POETIC PILGRIMAGE
16

Poetic Pilgrimage; Tanya Muneera Williams and Sukina Douglas
Credit: ©Harmony-Benusenga
17

Mecca2Medina formed in 1996 and became the first British
Muslim rap group, inspired by the American Muslim hip-hop
scene. In 2006 Mecca2Medina performed at the inaugural
Eid in the Square in London’s Trafalgar Square. For Ismael
Lea South, a member of Mecca2Medina, this was one of the
standout moments in his career. The group toured world
wide, performing in Nigeria, Syria, Sudan and the United
States. Through their music they explored and tackled many
social issues affecting people both within British Muslim
communities and wider society, covering topics such as
FGM and racism.
Others interviewed, such as rapper and spoken word artist
Muhammad Yahya, use rap and hip hop as a vehicle for
education. Hosting and leading workshops, Muhammad
explores different topics with interfaith groups, schools,
prisons and youth centres.
“I call it edutainment. So there’s an element of education
and also entertainment. So, it depends on the spaces
where I go. So for example, if I go to a synagogue, I’ve been
running a project for over six years now, which consist of
bringing two different youth groups of Muslim and Jewish
background. And I deliver a lot of workshops on identity,
on stereotypes, comparative religion, and it’s educational.
But I try and bring an element of fun and an element of art
by using poetry and hip-hop to kind of educate…When I go
to prisons, again, it could be anything. It could be on race
again, on identity, it could be on hip-hop and human rights,
so there’s always an educational aspect, but also using the
art form and the platform of rap.” – Muhammad Yahya
18

Mohammed Yahya
Credit: ©counterpointsarts.org.uk
19

Identity and Belonging
“I only became black when I came to England. Before that
my colour wasn’t an issue. My ethnicity, being Somali
might have been an issue at rare times in Africa but
the issue was never the colour of my skin.” – Hibo Jama,
arrived from Somalia in 1991
The topic of identity and labels was something we wanted to
explore in the oral histories collected. This was in particular
with regards to the term ‘black’. While some participants
embraced the term, some found it problematic and others
rejected the term entirely. Many of the contributors to this
project talked of their identities as multifaceted, thus being
Muslim and being of a specific or multi-ethnic background
also plays a part in a person’s identity.
For the second and third generation growing up in Britain
being British was an important part of their identity. Many
interviewees mentioned that returning to their parents’ or
grandparents’ homelands often emphasised their ‘British’
or ‘English’ identities.
“I don’t see identities as mutually exclusive. Because in a
certain context I’d say I’m English. Some people will look
at me and will say but you’re not white. And I’d say I’m not
saying I’m white, you can clearly see that I’m from African
decent, but I’m just saying when I go Jamaica or when I go
Guyana and I see my family there they say “What English
man”. They don’t mean you turned white and you come
back here they know what they mean but that’s what they
mean that I’m born in England. And I can’t delete that.” –
Bilal Ali Hugh, born in London.
For some interviewees becoming a British citizen was an
important step in the recognition of their contribution to
Britain. For others, however, such as Randa Murad’s mother,
Samira, the very act of refusing to become a British citizen
was an important part of emphasising her Sudanese identity
and asserting the temporarily of her stay.
20

“We applied for political asylum and subsequently
I became a British citizen. My mother never did although
she could have got it. She always said she was Sudanese,
that England wasn’t her true home and she said if a time
came that she could go back to Khartoum she would in
a blink of an eye. And so she kept her indefinite leave to
remain status but didn’t take on citizenship.” – Randa
Murad, born in Khartoum, Sudan, 1965, arrived in London
in 1983.
For Cawo Ali who came to the UK as a refugee and
received British citizenship in 1996 it meant that she
finally felt secure. But there was another, more personal
aspect that made obtaining her citizenship more
significant - that of her grandfather’ and father’s
decades of contribution to British society.
“It just made me feel more secure, you know. It felt
permanent. It felt like I was more stable then. I mean,
I always saw London as home by then but you know having
the passport, having citizenship… I felt settled at last
I could say I was British and no one can counter that –
so that changed. But I am still Somali, you know. But my
father and grandfather they have a history here so I felt
that I deserved that and I came here when I was twenty
– I was young, you know, and it has been my most stable
home after all the years moving, moving, moving.”
– Cawo Ali born in Berbera, Somalia, 1965.
“...I ONLY BECAME BLACK
WHEN I CAME TO ENGLAND
BEFORE THAT MY COLOUR
WASN’T AN ISSUE...”
HIBO JAMA
21

Poem by Tanya Muneera Williams
Have you ever experienced a calling
the turmoil of pushing and pulling deep inside of you
calling you to do things you never dreamed you
could do
somewhere there is a stream bigger than all of our
inhibitions
and at times we are forced to swim in it
riddled in fear yet baptised in purpose
sacred waters anointing this sacred daughter
every moment thinking maybe I’m not good enough
don’t do enough, don’t have enough inside of me
dear child
God does not call the qualified, but qualifies the called
forges a path and all you have to do is walk
your fears are not greater than the most great
day by day I witnessed a miracle inside of me
unaware of how to care for it or what I did to deserve it
part gift part responsibility to speak from the beat of
my heart
surpass all of my scars
all of the parts that I worked hard to suppress are now
on the tip of my tongue
the sleeves are undone
and all I have to do is lean into this grace accept this
space that I’ve been placed in,
of no doing of my own
I have not the might nor the ability to stand in front of
crowds
and have people’s entire being resonate with me
to the point that even I am in awe of it all
watching words pour forth from my mouth which I could
not conjure
thinking to myself I want to be her when I am older
she’s in my skin but she is bolder than me
more connected to the divine than me
compassion and its kind of healing
on the pathway of a pilgrim.
22

Tanya Muneera Williams
23

Project delivered by;
A selection of stories and
memories exploring history,
heritage and identity amongst
African and Afro-Caribbean
Muslims in London.
Exhibition and educational
resources are now available at
everydaymuslim.org
Archive collection now available
at George Padmore Archive
and Brent Museums and
Archives.
Special thanks to;
Raimat Ali, Cawo Ali, Taiwo Ali, Wasi Daniju, Saadat Yusuf,
Rakin Fetuga, Tahira Yazid, Ismael Lea South, Abu Bakr James,
Bilal Ali Hugh, Mohammed Yahya, Sabrina Abdi Hakim, Randa Murad,
Mark Sinckler, Amir Kabashi, Ahmed Ikhlas, Sukina Douglas,
Tanya Muneera Williams, Ali Kamara, Aminatu Olayiwola, Rashid Nix,
Danjuma Bihari, Humera Khan, Clintele Rose.
Partners;
George Padmore Archive and Brent Museums and Archives.
Project team;
Ismael Lea South, Fatimah Amer, Tanya Muneera Williams,
Muntasir Sattar, Sarah Garrod, Sadiya Ahmed.
Written and researched by Fatimah Amer.
See more from the project at Everydaymuslim.org
24
Brochure produced by Weareoneagency.com + Rok.studio