Sultan Mosque

Start at the far end of Bussorah Street. Palm trees line the walkway, and shophouse shutters open onto the pavement in shades of mint, cream and ochre. At the end of the street, two minarets and a large golden dome rise above the rooftops. In the late afternoon, the dome catches the light and seems to glow against the sky. Walk slowly toward it. This is Sultan Mosque, known locally as Masjid Sultan, and it has anchored this neighbourhood for two centuries.

The neighbourhood itself is Kampong Glam. The name is usually traced to the gelam tree, a paperbark tree that once grew here in large numbers. Kampong simply means village in Malay. Long before the glass towers of the financial district appeared to the south, this was a waterfront settlement. Malay, Bugis, Arab and Javanese communities lived and traded here. The mosque grew out of that mix of people, and you can still feel the mix in the shops and cafes around you today.

The story begins in the early nineteenth century. In 1819, the British East India Company secured the right to set up a trading post on the island. To do so, they recognised Sultan Hussein Shah as the ruler of Johor. Kampong Glam became his royal quarter. The sultan wanted a mosque near his palace. With financial help from the East India Company, a first mosque was built here in the 1820s. It was a modest building, very different from the one in front of you.

That first mosque served the community for about a hundred years. By the early twentieth century, Singapore's Muslim population had grown a great deal, and the old building was too small and in poor repair. Community leaders decided to build something new on the same site. Construction ran through the late 1920s and was completed in the early 1930s. The original mosque stayed in use while the new one rose around it, so prayers in this place were never really interrupted.

The architect of the new building was Denis Santry, of the firm Swan and Maclaren. This is the first surprise for many visitors. One of Singapore's most important mosques was designed by an Irish architect working for a British practice. Santry chose a style often called Indo-Saracenic. That label describes buildings that mix Indian, Mughal and Islamic forms, popular across the British Empire at the time. Look at the onion-shaped domes, the pointed arches and the slender minarets. They point more toward northern India than toward the Malay world.

Now look closely at the base of the main dome, and of the smaller domes too. You will see a dark, glittering band that looks almost like mosaic. It is made from the ends of glass bottles. Here is the second surprise. According to the widely told account, when the mosque was being built, Muslims across Singapore were invited to contribute. Those who could not give money gave glass bottles instead. So the band you see is, in a very literal way, a ring of small gifts from ordinary people.

Step back and take in the whole facade. The walls are pale, with sandy and cream tones, and the trim shows green and gold. The minarets stand at the corners and end in small domed pavilions. The building is not perfectly square to the street grid. This is because a mosque must face Mecca, and that direction does not line up with the streets that the British planners laid out. If you walk around the outside, you will notice these slightly unusual angles.

In 1975, the mosque was gazetted as a national monument. That status protects its structure and appearance. But this is not a museum. It is a working mosque, used every day by the community. You will hear the call to prayer drift over the street five times a day. On Fridays, at midday, the area around the building fills with worshippers. The pavements become busy with people arriving, removing their shoes and greeting friends at the gates.

If you go inside, you enter a calm, open space. The main prayer hall is large and can hold several thousand people at once. Thick carpet covers the floor, soft underfoot after the hard stone outside. Light comes in through the tall windows and falls across the carpet in long bands. Visitors are welcome outside prayer times, though the main prayer hall itself is usually reserved for worshippers. You can watch from the visitor area and see the scale of the room.

Notice the sounds inside. Outside, there are motorbikes, conversations and the clatter of the cafes. Inside, all of that drops away. You may hear only quiet footsteps, a ceiling fan, or someone reading softly. Many people sit against a pillar in silence for a while. The mosque has always been more than a place for formal prayer. It is also a place to rest, to think and to meet. It was built to serve a community, and it still does that.

When you leave, look around at the streets near the mosque. Arab Street sells textiles, carpets and rattan goods, a reminder of the trading families who once lived here. Muscat Street, beside the mosque, carries the name of a city in Oman. A short walk away stands the former palace of the sultan's family. Today it houses the Malay Heritage Centre, where you can learn more about the Malay communities that shaped this district.

If you visit during the holy month of Ramadan, the area changes completely. In past years, food stalls have lined the streets in the evening, selling dishes for people breaking their daily fast. The air fills with the smell of grilled meat, spices and sweet drinks. Even outside Ramadan, the food here reflects the neighbourhood's history. You will find Malay, Middle Eastern and Indian Muslim cooking side by side, often on the same street.

It is worth thinking about how much has changed around this building. When the first mosque was built, Singapore was a young trading post. The shoreline was much closer, and boats came right up to the settlement. Today, land reclamation has pushed the sea far away, and modern towers stand on the horizon. Yet the mosque remains in its original location. The sultan chose this spot two centuries ago, and the community kept faith with that choice.

Before you go, return to Bussorah Street and turn around one more time. Look at the golden dome sitting above the low shophouse roofs. Find that dark ring of glass at its base, small gifts from people who had little to give. Listen for the next call to prayer, or for the soft hum of the street. Then let the mosque stay in your view for a few more steps, as you walk back into the city.