Influencer, activist and commentator Mubarak Mnisi reflects on how Islam can take root more naturally within indigenous South African culture without compromising its foundational beliefs, practices or principles — and asks whether African Muslims have been given enough space to see themselves fully reflected within the faith.
A few days ago, an indigenous South African Muslim scholar drew a river flowing through different lands. The river represented Islam and the land represented culture. His point was simple: the water remains the same, but the river takes the shape of the land through which it flows. Islam reached India without requiring Indians to become Arabs, and it reached Africa, Southeast Asia and elsewhere without erasing the cultures of those people. The Qur’an, tawhid and fundamental acts of worship remained unchanged, while language, food, clothing and customs developed according to the people.
This made me ask: what happened when the river reached South Africa? An Uber driver once told me that when he hears “Muslim”, he thinks “India”, but when he hears “Christianity”, he thinks nothing because “Christianity belongs to everyone”. That response reveals something important. For many indigenous South Africans, Islam has become associated with Indian or Arab culture rather than being recognised as a universal faith.
You can see this in everyday life. Indigenous Muslims may begin using expressions such as “ji” or “naam” because they hear them in Muslim environments, eventually associating them with Islam itself, even though such expressions can be cultural rather than religious. During Ramadan, Muslim communities commonly serve biryani, curry, samoosas, roti and other South Asian foods. Yet our traditional foods are pap, inyama, idombolo and umngqusho. Why is it so difficult to imagine these foods on a Muslim Ramadan table? There is nothing wrong with biryani; the problem is when biryani becomes unconsciously understood as Muslim food, while African food is treated as something outside Muslim identity.
The same happens with clothing and names. Indigenous Black Muslim children can grow up wearing kurtas, long trousers and dopis at Islamic schools and eventually associate these South Asian garments with being properly Muslim. But a kurta is cultural, not a requirement of Islam. My birth name is Busiso, meaning “blessing”, but after accepting Islam I was advised to change it to Mubarak because it was considered an Islamic name. This made me question whether an African name with a good meaning needs to become Arabic before it can belong within Islam. Even our traditions of respect can become confused. In many indigenous South African homes, removing a cap, beanie or other headwear when entering an elder’s home is a sign of respect. After becoming Muslim and wearing a kufi, I once refused to remove it when my father asked me to because I thought the kufi was part of my religion. I was confusing a cultural garment with an Islamic obligation.
Then there is singing. South Africans are a people of song: we sing at weddings, funerals, protests, sporting events and celebrations. Many indigenous vocal traditions rely only on the human voice and communal sounds. For reverts, familiar melodies can carry memories of childhood, family and belonging. When we remove those sounds without creating culturally familiar Islamic expressions, some people can feel as though they have lost part of themselves. The question should therefore be whether we can develop African Muslim vocal traditions that preserve permissible cultural expression while directing their message towards Allah.
There is another perception we must confront: that Black South Africans become Muslim because they are hungry. Indian Muslim communities have done enormous charitable work, but when groceries are linked to attending Islamic classes or signing attendance registers, outsiders can conclude that converts accepted Islam for food. Charity should be charity and dawah should be dawah. A person’s conversion should never be reduced to a grocery parcel.
The issue, therefore, is not that Indian Muslims brought their culture. They built communities, preserved Islam and made enormous contributions that should be recognised and honoured. The deeper question is why indigenous Muslims have not been equally encouraged to develop an African Muslim identity rooted in Islam while remaining authentically connected to their own languages, foods, clothing and cultural expressions.
Islam should transform our beliefs and remove whatever contradicts tawhid, but it does not require a Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho or Tswana person to stop being African. A universal religion should be capable of taking root among different peoples without demanding unnecessary cultural imitation. Perhaps the problem is not that indigenous South Africans cannot accept Islam. Perhaps they have simply not always been shown an Islam in which they can see themselves.
The river is already here; the question is whether we will finally allow it to flow through our soil.
