“Every step in a foreign land is a prayer seeking a home, and every mosque found is a small answer to that prayer.”
That day, the Santiago sun was shining brightly, ushering in a warm afternoon in the Chilean capital. The clock struck one in the afternoon when my walking tour ended in front of the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. My hunger was already beginning to demand its due, but my heart demanded a promise first: it was Friday, and I had to find a mosque.
There aren’t many mosques in Santiago. In fact, reportedly, only one actually holds Friday prayers regularly. It’s called Mezquita As-Salam. It’s located not too far away, in the Ñuñoa neighborhood, at the intersection of Chile España and Campoamor streets.
Metro Travel
I stepped into the Bellas Artes metro station, located directly underground in Santiago’s old town. The hustle and bustle of Santiago residents, tourists, young people with headphones, and women carrying shopping bags accompanied my steps.
Armed with my blue Tarjeta Bip ticket, I entered the light green Line 5. The Santiago Metro is modern, clean, and fairly well-organized. From Bellas Artes, I headed toward Vicente Valdés. The sound of metal wheels rubbing against rails echoed through the tunnel, while windows offered glimpses of Santiago’s colorful murals at several stations.
Arriving at Irarrazaval station, I transferred to the brown Line 3. My destination: Fernando Castillo Velasco, the terminus of this line. I got off at Chile España.
As I emerged from the bowels of the earth, the Santiago sky stretched out, a cloudless blue. From the station, I could have taken the “Metropolitana de Movilidad” bus, but the map on my app showed the mosque was only about 600 meters away. I decided to take a leisurely walk.
Walking along Chile España Street
Chile España Street is a wide street with comfortable sidewalks for pedestrians. Large trees grow along the sides of the street, providing shade between the modern apartment buildings. Occasionally, small cafes with wooden chairs can be seen outside, the aroma of coffee and toast wafting along the summer breeze.
I walked for about five minutes, until in the distance, a golden dome glistened in the sunlight. My heart fluttered. In the middle of Santiago, far from the birthplace of Islam, stood a magnificent mosque, no less magnificent than the one in Bogotá I visited last Friday.
The dome reflected a golden light, while its minaret stood at the corner of the building, like a small lighthouse, guiding the way.
Arriving at the Mosque
The courtyard of the mosque was surrounded by a dark green iron fence, beneath which stood a cream-painted wall. Several date palms grew within—some towering, others shorter. I paused on the sidewalk, gazing at the mosque’s facade. Its unique, octagonal shape was unlike any other mosque. Large, semicircular windows adorned the upper floor, seeming to invite light in.
I had to turn left at the Campoamor intersection to find the entrance. The street name was clearly displayed on a blue sign: Campo Amor — “Village of Love.” A poetic name for a house of worship.
Meeting the Security Guard
As soon as I passed through the gate, a security guard in a dark blue uniform approached me. He was friendly and appeared to be in his thirties. I greeted him:
Buenos Dias Señor,
— “A qué hora comienza la oración del viernes?”
(When do Friday prayers begin?)
He smiled and replied briefly:
— “A las dos.”
(At two o’clock.)
I was a little surprised. Dhuhr prayer time in Santiago is around one in the afternoon, but here the Friday sermon begins at two. Perhaps this gives worshippers from all over the city an opportunity to come, as this is the only mosque where Friday prayers are held.
Atmosphere Inside the Mosque
The main hall of the mosque felt spacious. A soft green carpet with yellow stripes stretched neatly, dividing the rows. Natural light poured in from the large windows, making the room bright and warm.
The mihrab (mihrab) looked simple, just a small arch without excessive ornamentation. Beside it, a wooden pulpit carved with an eight-pointed star stood gracefully. It wasn’t very high, only about 75 centimeters, but it was large enough to accommodate the preacher delivering his sermon.
I saw about ten worshippers already seated in the front rows, some discussing with a man in a white robe. The rest were sitting casually in the back rows, some leaning against the wall. My watch read 1:40 PM, still some time before the sermon.
I looked up at the dome. Directly below, a circular glass window emitted natural light. A beautiful chandelier hung in the center, adding to the sacred atmosphere.
More Crowds, More Color
Slowly, the congregation grew. Middle Eastern faces dominated: Lebanese, Syrian, Palestinian, and Turkish. There were also a few Latino faces, and I could clearly tell whether they were Chilean, Argentinian, or Colombian, and one or two Southeast Asian faces. I initially suspected they were embassy staff from Indonesia or Malaysia. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to chat with them because when Friday prayers ended, they were no longer visible in the mosque, perhaps having to rush back to their offices.
By two o’clock, the rows were already filled with four rows—about 200 worshippers. It wasn’t a large number, but considering the Muslim community in Chile is only about 5,000 strong, it was quite busy. Last week’s Friday prayers in Bogotá were even quieter.
Sermon and Prayer
A young imam, around thirty-five, ascended the pulpit. He wore a simple white robe. His voice was loud, and his sermon was in Spanish, with occasional verses in Arabic.
I didn’t understand the entire sermon, but I could feel the vibration of passion and faith he conveyed. The words “hermandad” (brotherhood) and “paz” (peace) were heard repeatedly.
Friday prayers were solemn. Four rows bowed and prostrated in unison, in a land at the southern tip of the globe.
After Prayers
After prayers, I took the time to explore the back of the mosque. There was a mezzanine for women, surrounded by a golden-brown fence, supported by only two green pillars. It wasn’t very large, but it was enough to provide a dedicated prayer space for Muslim women.
As I was leaving, I met the imam and shook his hand. I mustered up the courage to speak:
—“Gracias, imam. Es un honor orar aquí.”
(Thank you, imam. It’s truly an honor to be able to pray here.)
He smiled and replied softly:
—“Bienvenido, hermano. Que Allah te bendiga. I aquí somos pocos, pero somos una familia de fe.”
(Welcome, my brother. May Allah bless you. We are few here, but we are a family in faith.)
I replied in simple Arabic: “Shukran, imam.”
The History of Mezquita As-Salam
This mosque is more than just a building. It is a historical landmark. Construction began in 1986 by the Chilean Muslim community, the majority of whom are of Arab descent. Architect William Tapia Chuaqui designed it with a unique octagonal shape.
The mosque was completed in 1989 and officially inaugurated around 1995, at a ceremony attended by the prince of Malaysia. Since then, Mezquita As-Salam has become the first mosque in Chile, as well as a center for religious and social activities. Besides Santiago, there are also mosques in Iqueque and Cocquimbo. This mosque is managed by the Centro Islamico de Chile.
The number of Muslims in Chile is indeed small, around 5,000 out of a population of 19 million. The majority are immigrants from Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine, who arrived since the 19th century. Yet, despite its small size, this community keeps the flame of faith burning.
Closing the Journey in the Village of Love
As I stepped outside, I saw the inscription on the wall: Mezquita As-Salam — written in Arabic and Latin. A light summer breeze blew, and I realized how special this experience was.
The street name Campoamor, or “Village of Love,” seemed to symbolize: love of God, love of fellow human beings, love of a land of pilgrimage that embraces diversity.
I left the mosque with a warm heart, as warm as the golden light still reflecting from the dome in the sky of Ñuñoa.
In every city, there is always a small house that makes a Muslim feel at home. In Santiago, that house is called As-Salam, the Peaceful, in the Village of Love.
