Before dawn on Home Island: Ramadan in Australia’s Indian Ocean outpost
On Home Island in the Cocos (Keeling) Islands, Ramadan shapes the rhythm of daily life for a small but deeply rooted Muslim community
HOME ISLAND, Australia (MNTV) – Nearly 3,000 kilometres from mainland Australia, a quiet kampong on a coral island wakes long before sunrise.
On Home Island in the Cocos (Keeling) Islands, Ramadan shapes the rhythm of daily life for a small but deeply rooted Muslim community.
Across this island of just 460 people, kitchen lights flicker on as families prepare for the pre-dawn meal before a day of fasting begins. Among them is Haji Ramnie Mokta, known locally as Nek Su, and his wife Ayesha Jan Young. Nek Su, 83, is a descendant of the settlers who shaped the island’s Malay Muslim community. For him, faith has always been central to life here.
“Our shared faith is sacred to us. It provides a moral compass that guides us to treat one another with fairness, respect, and a deep sense of harmony.” Ramadan, he says, becomes easier with time. “The first time it was hard. The second time it was easier and after the third time we feel it’s normal.”
His wife Ayesha arrived from England decades ago. She first visited the Cocos Islands as a child in 1957, but it was her return as a nurse years later that revealed the islands’ complex social fabric. At that time, the territory was deeply partitioned — Home Island, the traditional Malay kampong, and West Island, the administrative hub, were strictly segregated, with movement between the two heavily restricted.
“When I first came here in 1980 we were very separate. People from Home Island weren’t allowed to go to West Island and people from West Island could only come to Home Island on very special occasions,” she recalled. Over time, that changed. Ayesha married Nek Su in 2009 and converted to Islam. “Having nursed and looked after the people and living in this community, you really understand how strong the culture is and how important it is.” She says the daily rhythm of prayer brings calm, and that Ramadan deepens empathy.
“It’s an opportunity when we feel hungry and thirsty to know that there are people in the world that go through life feeling that way. When we break our fast we feel very grateful.”
Not all residents have lived here for generations. Abdul Baset Rahat, 26, arrived from Bangladesh and works as a housekeeper on the island. It is his first Ramadan away from home, but he says the community embraced him immediately.
“They greeted me by giving salam and were very humble. I felt I was not isolated and part of the community because everyone was Muslim — it was easy to blend.” The intimacy of the small community has made the experience feel personal. “I haven’t had such an experience with a small community like this before. I just plan to visit some of the houses and break my fast with them.”