Why a remote community in Central America wakes before dawn to join a gathering 5,200 miles away
Musa Sattar, UK
Reporting from Guatemala
In the thin, cool air of Guatemala’s highlands, long before the sun breaks over the misty ridges and the jungle begins to stir, a quiet gathering unfolds. In a modest area of Mixco tucked between ancient Mayan lands and looming volcanoes, men, women and children, some still wrapped in shawls against the mountain chill, settle on plastic chairs and woven mats. Their eyes are fixed not on a local stage, but on a television screen beaming a live broadcast from Alton, Hampshire.
It is Jalsa Salana UK 2025, the annual convention of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. More than 40,000 participants from over 90 countries are gathered in person in southern England. But here, thousands of miles away and seven hours behind, another community watches with breathless anticipation. They are Ahmadis too. Native Guatemalans, many of them converts from Christianity or indigenous belief systems, their hearts are drawn not just to the words, but to the man at the center of it all; His Holiness, Hazrat Mirza Masroor Ahmad (aba), the Fifth Caliph and Worldwide Head of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community.
‘I set my alarm for 4:30am,’ says Julio Estalin, now Abdul Ghaffar (his Muslim name) who is originally from El Salvador, ‘When I opened my eyes, I was tired, yes. But when I remembered Jalsa had started, my sleep disappeared. We were going to hear Huzoor speak.’ His voice cracks slightly on the word Huzoor, a term of deep reverence for the Caliph.
For these Guatemalans, the Jalsa is not just an event. It is a lifeline. A spiritual thread that stretches across oceans and continents. A moment of reunion, however virtual, with a leader they consider not only a religious guide but a beloved father figure. Some travel long distances by crowded local buses, or taxis to reach the Baitul Awal Mosque, where a communal space is carefully prepared to stream the proceedings. There, surrounded by fellow believers, they sit in reverent silence, part of a global family united in spirit, if not in presence.
Verónica, a schoolteacher now known by her Islamic name Fatima, once lived in San Marcos, a Catholic town where Islam was barely known and often misunderstood. ‘People spoke badly about Muslims,’ she recalls. But a powerful dream changed everything. ‘I was told to read the Qur’an in Arabic, though I never had. And in the dream, I was called Fatima.’
That dream led her to Islam Ahmadiyya. She embraced the faith and moved near Antigua just to be near the Baitul Awal Mosque. ‘Now I never miss a Friday, and I listen to every Jalsa address by Huzoor,’ she says wiping her tears off. Inspired by his words, she teaches her two young children about faith and gently shares those values with her students at school.
Back in 2018, His Holiness (aba) made his first visit to Guatemala. Thousands gathered for a historic moment that still lives vividly in their memories. Luis Marroquin, a retired Air Force aeronautical engineer, speaks with deep emotion as he recalls a moment that changed his life forever. A few years ago, he embraced Islam Ahmadiyya after a personal journey of reflection and prayers. But it was in 2018, when His Holiness Hazrat Mirza Masroor Ahmad (aba) visited Guatemala, that Luis experienced what he calls a ‘miracle in motion.’
‘I never imagined I would meet Huzoor,’ he says, his voice thick with feeling. ‘I had no means to travel to him. I had only my prayers.’ He remembers vividly the day he had the audience with the beloved Caliph, and how overwhelming the moment was. ‘It was as if the heavens had opened. Allah granted me more than I asked for, Huzoor came to us.’
Now, each year at Jalsa UK, one moment in particular stirs those memories and renews their connection. It’s the International Bai‘at (pledge of allegiance), a deeply symbolic and spiritual ceremony held on the final day. Thousands of Ahmadis form a human chain at the convention site, each person linked by placing their hand on the shoulder of the person in front of them, all the way to His Holiness (aba) at the front. With their hands placed upon his, they repeat words of commitment to God, to peace, to righteousness. Simultaneously, tens of thousands watching around the world repeat the same words.
In that sacred moment in 2018, Luis also had the honour of taking the pledge of allegiance directly at the hand of His Holiness (aba) in Baitul Awal mosque in Guatemala. Reflecting on the experience, Luis recalled a saying attributed to Jesus (as): ‘If you have faith, you can move mountains.’ He smiled softly and added, ‘In my case, it wasn’t a mountain that moved. It was Huzoor, coming all the way to Guatemala. My prayers were answered in a way I never dared to imagine.’
Here in Guatemala, the effect is electric. ‘When the pledge of allegiance begins,’ says Daisy, an elderly woman who converted a few years ago, ‘we all repeat the words after Huzoor.’ She wipes tears from her cheek. ‘And when Huzoorprays at the end, I feel like he’s praying for me.’
Tomas, now 86, speaks with a trembling voice and eyes full of emotion as he reflects on a rare and deeply personal honour. ‘I had the privilege of pledging allegaince at the hands of both the Fourth Caliph and our current Caliph, His Holiness Hazrat Mirza Masroor Ahmad (aba),’ he says. ‘Each time, it moved me to tears.’
For Tomas, those moments weren’t just symbolic. ‘They were the most powerful spiritual experiences of my life,’ he adds. ‘Even now, just remembering them makes my heart full.’
The river of emotion that flows through the UK convention site finds its way into Guatemalan homes, hearts and hillsides. It’s visible in the hushed reverence, in tear-streaked faces, in children quieting themselves to hear every word.
I’ve attended Jalsa Salana in the UK many times. I’ve stood among the vast white marquees, heard the cheers of Allahu Akbar (God is the Greatest) ripple across the fields, felt the thunderous silence when His Holiness (aba) enters the hall. But watching this Guatemalan congregation, 6,000 feet above sea level, far from the hub of global Islam, something else strikes me. The devotion here isn’t born of familiarity. It’s born of transformation.
Many of these Ahmadis came to the faith after years of searching, of feeling unseen in traditional systems. The message of Islam Ahmadiyya echoing the true teachings of Islam that emphasises peace, justice and the spiritual reform of individuals, resonated deeply in a country long scarred by civil conflict and social inequality.
‘Before I accepted Islam, I was lost,’ says Byron, a former Catholic. ‘Then I read about the Promised Messiah (as) and the coming of the Mahdi. It felt like truth hit me in the chest.’ He has never met His Holiness (aba) in person. ‘But when I see him on screen, I feel like he knows me. Like he prays for me.’
And perhaps that’s what makes this connection so powerful. It’s not built on proximity, or language, or tradition. It’s built on love. A love that crosses borders, mountains and oceans. A love that wakes people at 4am, that brings communities together in the dark before dawn, that makes children sit in still reverence and adults weep openly.
The weekend of Jalsa becomes more than a broadcast for them. It becomes a celebration. People wear special clothes and meals are shared. Children are taught to listen to the speeches and write reflections.
And still, in every voice I hear, there is one unfulfilled yearning, to see His Holiness (aba) in person. To feel the warmth of his presence as many did in 2018. For some, the memories of that visit are still vivid. For others, the dream is yet to be realised.
‘There is no difference between watching Huzoor and being in front of him,’ says young girl Raquel, only 11, with surprising clarity. ‘But still, I want to meet him. I want him to know me.’
As the final day of Jalsa nears, with the International Bai‘at on the horizon, nearly 70 Guatemalan Ahmadis are also preparing to gather in another town of Cahabon almost 200 miles away from Baitul Awal Mosque in Mixco, Guatemala. Some will arrive dressed in traditional woven clothing, others in simple scarves and prayer caps. All will be facing Alton, even as they stand on Guatemalan soil.
In that moment, geography disappears. Time zones collapse. Language barriers fall. All that remains is a shared heartbeat. One community. One faith. One love.
For readers unfamiliar with this story, this isn’t just about religion. It’s about connection. It’s about a community that has found unity in an age of division. In a world often fractured by politics, race and belief, here is a movement fueled by spiritual leadership and love, inspiring even the most distant hearts to rise before dawn and feel they belong to something greater.
This is the quiet revolution of faith. From the fields of Hampshire, UK to the hills of Guatemala, it echoes in every whispered prayer, every tearful pledge, every hopeful gaze towards a screen. The power of media is redefined here, not for entertainment or distraction, but for inspiration and spiritual transformation.
The story of Guatemalan Ahmadis waking before dawn to virtually attend Jalsa Salana UK, thousands of miles away, carries a profound and deeply human lesson: it reminds us that the most powerful forces in our lives are invisible; faith, love, and belonging. And when these forces move through sincere hearts, no mountain is too high, no distance too great, no time-zone too wide. They gather before sunrise not just to watch a broadcast, but to feel a connection that no border can ever break.
About the Author: Musa Sattar has an MSc in Pharmaceutical Analysis from Kingston University and is also serving as the Assistant Manager of The Review of Religions and the Deputy Editor of the Science & Religion section.