Dar Al Islam: The Egyptian-designed mosque in the middle of New Mexico

The dream of a thriving Muslim community in this stretch of the American desert never came to pass - but one remarkable structure remains as a symbol of that ambition

Dar Al Islam, the adobe mosque and Islamic centre built by Egyptian architect Hassan Fathy. Photo: Avirook Sen

Nestled on a hilly plateau in remote New Mexico, a gleaming mosque made of adobe mud marks the central point of a planned Islamic community whose roots go back half a century.

The rolling landscape of the southern Rocky Mountains is perhaps not the most obvious place to find a mosque and Islamic centre. Fewer than 1 per cent of New Mexico's population of 2.1 million people are Muslim, but in 1979 an American who had converted to Islam co-founded the community, with the help of two Saudi backers, near a historic Pueblo town called Abiquiu.

Benyamin van Hattum, a Dutch woodworker who builds and carves exquisite doors, and lives by the philosophy that they should remain open, was among the first settlers who came here, along with his wife Rabia.

Their small home by the river has signs like “Make chai, not war” and “Beware of ego”. In the evenings they play Turkish Sufi music.

The mosque at the heart of the community was designed by the Egyptian architect Hassan Fathy, who brought in artisans from Africa to build a complex in the Nubian style. The project was ambitious: it envisaged a community of 1,000 people living around the mosque and madrassa.

But that dream proved short-lived. Having opened in 1982, Dar Al Islam faced a funding crisis in 1989. A substantial chunk of the funding for the educational centre and mosque came from the daughters of Saudi Arabia’s King Khalid bin Abdulaziz, but a few years after his death in 1982 the funding dried up. The school had to be shut, and substantial portions of the land that had been acquired were sold to keep the mosque running in survival mode. Most of the initial settlers lost their livelihoods and left.

But the van Hattums remained and went on to build a much smaller mosque right by their home. Dar Al Islam continued to function, mainly hosting retreats on mindfulness, workshops for teachers and similar programmes that attract people from across America.

Benyamin van Hattum and his wife Rabia at the tiny mosque they built next to their home. Photo: Avirook Sen

On a recent visit to Dar Al Islam, conversation inevitably turned to the election of Donald Trump, the former and future US president who, during his first term, initiated the so-called Muslim ban that blocked migrants from several Muslim-majority countries coming to the US.

“We were prepared for him to win because his rhetoric seemed to resonate with voters, but not to the extent that it eventually did," says Fatima van Hattum, Benyamin's daughter, a researcher who is working on a history of the community.

Many Arab and Muslim Americans who normally vote Democrat did not support Vice President Kamala Harris this year because of her refusal to shift from President Joe Biden's support of Israel as it bombs Gaza.

Fatima says the community's handful of families are in a “liminal space” – still processing what just happened, standing apprehensively on a precarious threshold of the new Trump administration and waiting to see if it will bring anti-Muslim rhetoric.

Several prominent US imams and Muslim officials supported Mr Trump in the election and he has appointed two Arab Americans to his administration so far, including Lebanese businessman Massad Boulos as Middle East adviser.

“We will just have to keep doing what we are doing, till the inevitable change comes and we can see where we stand," says Fatima.

Fatima’s husband Gustavo Martinez is in an even more interesting space. He is of Mexican descent and of Muslim faith. Which makes him the “other” twice over. It’s a situation the family has discussed recently.

In case their lives are upended, she says only half jokingly, “Mexico is close by”.

An impromptu Sufi music session. Photo: Avirook Sen