- Muslim community remains small but is increasingly visible in predominantly Christian Colombia
BOGOTA, Colombia
As the sun dipped below Bogota’s skyline on the first evening of Ramadan, Sheikh Ahmed Tayel did not break his fast with dates or any of the customary staples of the Muslim world.
Instead, he and his wife shared a steaming bowl of “ajiaco santafereno” – a hearty soup made from three types of Andean potatoes and shredded chicken, served with a cob of corn and a slice of buttery avocado.
For the Syrian-born cleric who has spent more than three decades shaping Islam’s presence in Colombia, the meal represents a quiet culinary bridge between two worlds: his roots in the ancient cities of Syria and his adopted life in the cool mountain air of the Colombian capital.
In Colombia, where churches anchor town squares and over 70% of citizens identify as Christian, the Muslim community remains small but increasingly visible.
Estimates vary as local Islamic centers place the population between 35,000 and 40,000, while international research bodies such as the Pew Research Center suggest it could reach 100,000 when the broader Arab diaspora is included.
From exile to community builder
Tayel arrived in Colombia in 1992 with his wife after fleeing the regime of Hafez al-Assad in Syria. He settled in Bogota, where Muslims at the time gathered in a modest downtown prayer room rather than a formal mosque.
A scholar of Islamic jurisprudence and Quranic studies, he is also an avid reader of world history, philosophy and Colombian literature.
“I read every day as if I were going to take an exam the next morning,” he says. “And then I write down the name of every book I finish.”
Since his arrival, he has catalogued 1,031 books. His latest reading was Jorge Orlando Melo’s Historia minima de Colombia, which he sees as essential to understanding the society he serves. For Tayel, books are “tools to communicate with all kinds of different people.”
Fifteen years ago, he spearheaded construction of the Abou Bakr Al-Siddiq Mosque on Bogota’s 80th Street, which now accommodates up to 300 worshippers on holidays.
In a skyline dominated by colonial bell towers, the mosque’s slender minaret and crescent-topped dome stop passersby in their tracks – a striking symbol in a city where Islamic architecture remains rare.
The congregation itself reflects Colombia’s diversity. More than 40% are converts, including professionals such as Silvia Alaguna, a 60-year-old philosophy graduate.
“I felt a void and questioned everything around me,” Alaguna recalls. “I met the Sheikh at a book fair while he was teaching the Quran, and two years later, Islam had filled the void and won my heart.”
A mosque that feels like home
Stepping inside the mosque offers a sensory shift from Bogota’s thin, chilly air. The space is infused with the warm scent of cardamom, cumin and cinnamon from “baharat rice” prepared for iftar, the evening meal that breaks the fast.
The fragrance mingles with Colombian coffee, offered to visitors regardless of faith. Light from a central chandelier reflects off a vast Persian carpet and mosaic tiles in green, red and yellow.
Prayer unfolds in synchronized rhythm, yet the atmosphere is far from rigid. Men and women worship on separate levels, while a 3-year-old girl darts across the upper floor before climbing onto her mother’s back during prostration. No one scolds her; eventually she curls up beside her mother and falls asleep.
Here, silence yields to life. Conversations in Arabic and Spanish punctuate the evening as neighbors reconnect. The mosque feels less like a solemn institution and more like a shared home.
Ramadan as social justice in action
For Tayel, Ramadan embodies what he calls “tangible social justice.”
“It is an experience that helps us step into the shoes of those who live in hunger and poverty,” he explains. “You have to live it periodically – every year for a month – to truly understand what it means.”
This empathy is translated into action through Zakat, the mandatory Islamic donation to charity. In Bogota, this means distributing food to passersby and neighbors so that while the community celebrates, others in the city do not go hungry.
Beyond charity, Ramadan has become a bridge between faiths. Last year, the mosque hosted a historic iftar attended by leaders from the Catholic Episcopal Conference, the Jewish community, and Evangelical and Mormon churches.
Under one roof, Colombia’s diverse religious traditions shared a meal. It was a Ramadan evening in Bogota where doctrine gave way to fraternity, and every guest spoke the same language of respect – over shared bread, conversation, and the golden warmth of a Colombian soup.
