CAIRO — Ali Taha* moves between multiple worlds. During the day, he works as a swimming coach at a pool club; at night time, he turns into a freelance mosque imam, leading worshippers in the Maghrib (sunset), Isha (nighttime) and Fajr (pre-dawn) prayers.
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With the imam’s seat currently vacant in the mosque of Taha’s village in Sharqia Governorate, Taha was plucked because of his melodious voice. The mosque’s management committee chose him to lead the prayers in exchange for a stipend, determined and paid from donations offered by capable worshippers to maintain the mosque and serve its patrons.
The 26-year-old earns 2,000 Egyptian pounds (EGP) monthly ($39.35) for leading the prayers at the end of each day, which he considers “a winning deal by the standards of both religion and worldly life.”
Worshippers noticed a difference with Taha leading the prayers, and they no longer complain about the voices of the locals who randomly take turns leading prayers. “Most of them have unpleasant voices and incorrect recitations,” he told Al-Manassa.
Taha graduated from the Faculty of Physical Education in 2021 and never imagined he would combine maqam — traditional Arabic music — and tajweed — rules for the correct pronunciation of Quran — being active in two very different worlds: prayers leading and singing at events with his friends, as well as sharing TikTok videos.
His path to this side job started back in university, where he participated in a choir competition. His singing voice and mastery of recitation led to an offer to lead prayers at a mosque in Nasr City, East of Cairo. But at the time, he declined it despite the attractive compensation: “They offered me EGP 5,000 to lead the prayer during Ramadan, but I felt a contradiction within myself, so I refused. Now, I no longer feel that way.”
Imam freelancer groups
Taha is part of a growing number of freelance imams. There are now Facebook groups that publish the names of mosques lacking imams, allowing those with a good voice and strong Quranic recitation skills to apply. “My choir friends work through them — during the day, they rehearse for folk music bands, and during Maghrib, Isha, and Fajr prayers, they lead people in prayer. The compensation helps them survive in Cairo until they make it as musicians.”
One recent evening in the Giza Governorate, as the Isha prayer was approaching, worshippers began gathering at the mosque. Ahmed Abdullah, a 26-year-old, got dressed, putting on his white galabeya in an inner room. He stood in front of the mirror, placed the cap on his head, then walked out to the congregation, moving through the rows up to the mihrab, raising his hands to begin the prayer with his melodious voice, now his source of income.
“A job like any other job, but I’m getting good deeds and pleasing God—and it’s an easy job.”
Abdullah is not a certified imam by the Ministry of Endowments, but he is one of hundreds of preachers who found in the shortage of official imams an opportunity to prove themselves and fill the void in Egyptian mosques.
“A job like any other job, but I’m getting good deeds and pleasing God — and it’s an easy job,” says Abdullah, describing his role as a freelance imam. He graduated with a “very good” grade from the Faculty of Islamic Mission at Al-Azhar University in 2021 but couldn’t find a job in his field. He was also rejected in the Ministry of Endowments’ 2022 “1000 Imams” competition due to being overweight, despite passing all the other exams.
Imposing control
In 2014, the former Minister of Endowments, Mohamed Mokhtar Gomaa, adopted policies to impose greater control over mosques. These included bringing all mosques under the authority of the ministry, prohibiting any sheikh from delivering sermons without official authorization, and standardizing the Friday sermon.
According to a 2014 study by the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, these policies are based on three main assumptions: that all Muslims fall under a single religious authority supervised by the State; that the State acts as the imam and representative of the Muslim community; and that the Ministry of Endowments must have exclusive control over religious leadership and preaching. Religious activities inside mosques are not permitted without official authorization.
However, in reality, this policy clashes with a severe shortage of imams. The most recent available data from the Central Agency for Public Mobilization and Statistics in 2019 revealed a growing gap: there were 46,952 official imams for 105,841 mosques and prayer rooms — a coverage rate of only 44.36%.
Over the years, the number of mosques increased, while the number of imams declined. Coverage dropped to 41.03% in 2020, then further down to 37.42% in 2021, which means that more than 62% of mosques in Egypt lack an official imam.
Data from the Ministry of Endowments also shows a significant shift in the structure of mosques in Egypt between 2017 and 2021. There was a notable increase in privately run mosques and a decline in government mosques. While government mosques dropped from 80,457 in 2017 to 79,454 in 2021, private mosques rose from 21,728 to 34,344. This change is attributed to the closure of many government mosques due to restructuring, renovation needs, or a lack of funding.
With the growing shortage of imams, a parallel market for freelance imams has emerged. Abdullah used to earn EGP 9,000 ($177) per month from the administration of a mosque in a high-end compound in October City, along with free accommodation. When he received a better offer, he moved to a mosque in Fifth Settlement, where he was paid EGP 15,000 ($295) during Ramadan.
An Imam with Ideal Weight!
Over three years, Abdullah applied three times to the Ministry of Endowments’ competition to appoint 3,000 imams, at a rate of 1,000 per year.
Applicants must pass a test led by the Central Agency for Organization and Administration, made of 120 questions: one-third related to Islamic studies — his major at Al-Azhar — and two-thirds covering translation, philosophy, psychology, computer skills, and general knowledge. After passing, there’s an oral and written exam on religious subjects at Al-Nour Mosque in Abbassiya.
Those who succeed must undergo medical and fitness tests during a six-month training camp at the Military Academy. This camp, similar to mandatory military education in universities, includes physical fitness tests, lectures on national security concepts, fourth-generation warfare and military discipline — followed by a security background check and character assessment.
Different Reasons for Rejection
Abdullah is not the only one who didn’t make it. In 2022, over 20,000 applied, but only 724 were accepted — despite the target of 1,000. This led several Members of Parliament to submit official inquiries to the Minister of Endowments. Medical rejection isn’t the only reason, as a former Minister acknowledged. For instance, other applicant Osama El-Sayed was rejected during the security screening because a distant relative of his was in pre-trial detention in a political case.
Each time I apply, I have hope. I fast, pray at night, and ask God to grant me success. Then I’m rejected because of weight or health.
El-Sayed, a graduate of Al-Azhar’s Faculty of Islamic Studies in 2020, passed all exams and completed the six-month military academy course. “The medical check comes first, followed by fitness tests,” he says. “The fitness tests include a 1500-meter race to be completed under 5 minutes, a 100-meter sprint in 15 seconds, and over 50 sit-ups and push-ups. Then comes the character assessment, which includes weighing and checking your full application file.”
“I Know Nothing But This”
Ahmed Abdullah sighs deeply and says, “I’ve never worked outside the mosque. Since I graduated, I’ve been leading prayers. I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t have the skills for a different job.” He describes the physical and emotional toll the repeated rejections have taken on him. “Each time I apply, I have hope. I fast, pray at night, and ask God to grant me success. Then I’m rejected because of weight or health.”
Despite it all, he still wears the white galabeya and stands before the mihrab every day, leading prayers with a voice that has moved some worshippers to tears. When he steps aside, though, he wonders what the future holds — how long he can keep moving from mosque to mosque, always on temporary terms, always unsure of what tomorrow might bring.
He’s not alone. Many others, like him, are waiting for a miracle: a policy change, a more inclusive hiring process, or simply a mosque willing to keep them on long-term. Until then, they will continue to echo the words of prayer five times a day, their recitations resonating through neighborhoods even as their future remain uncertain.
For now, the mosques of Egypt remain full of beautiful voices — many of them unofficial, unheard by the State, but deeply cherished by the people.
*Pseudonym at the source’s request.
