It was the busiest market day in Medina. I remember the sun beating down on the stalls, the scents of spices in the air, and the shouts of traders calling out their prices. My name won’t be found in any hadith, but I was there—just a young seller with little more than a few jars of dates and some hope.
I had no family in Medina. I was one of the Muhajirun—those who had left Mecca with nothing but faith. When we arrived, the Ansar—the helpers of Medina—welcomed us with more generosity than I had ever seen. Some even split their homes and wealth with strangers just because we were brothers in Islam.
That day, I watched one of the Ansar, a farmer named Rafi, hand over half his orchard to a brother from Mecca. He smiled as he gave it away. I couldn’t believe it. Was this what brotherhood looked like?
But I still had doubts about the market. In Mecca, trade had been tough—even dishonest at times. Some traders would hide bad parts of the goods or lie about weight. I had seen so much trickery that I began thinking maybe that was just the way it had to be to survive.
Until I met him.
He had no stall, just a small blanket on the roadside with cloth and perfume. He sat calmly, not shouting like the rest of us. I had heard his name before—Al-Amin, the Trustworthy. That was what people in Mecca used to call Prophet Muhammad ﷺ long before he became the Messenger of Allah.
I watched as a man came up to him. The Prophet ﷺ picked up a small bottle of perfume and said, “Its scent is strong, but it fades quickly.” There was no trick in his voice, no sales language. Just honesty.
Another time, I saw a woman ask about a piece of cloth. It looked flawless to me, but the Prophet ﷺ gently showed her a small tear hidden in the corner. “It is still useful,” he said, “but it's not perfect.”
People still bought from him. In fact, they lined up to give him their coins. I realized then it wasn’t the perfume or the cloth—it was the truth they were buying. They trusted him because he never broke that trust.
That day changed how I thought about trade—and about life. I decided that even if I made less, I would be honest. No more hiding defects, no more lies to make a quick sale. I began to see that wealth doesn’t just come from money. It comes from barakah—Allah’s blessing—and that only comes with honesty.
Later, I learned that when the Prophet ﷺ arrived in Medina, he didn’t choose to take land or wealth from the Ansar. Instead, he asked to be shown the market. He wanted to work—honestly and with dignity.
And he showed us that every deal is a chance to be truthful. To worship, even while we sell dates or cloth. That’s when I began to understand what it means to be called “Trustworthy.”
And that is how I changed—not just as a trader, but as a believer.
—
Story Note: This story is inspired by authentic traditions, including the hadith in Sahih al-Bukhari 3782, which tells of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ forming bonds of brotherhood between the Muhajirun and Ansar, and his exemplary honesty in trade before and after prophethood.
It was the busiest market day in Medina. I remember the sun beating down on the stalls, the scents of spices in the air, and the shouts of traders calling out their prices. My name won’t be found in any hadith, but I was there—just a young seller with little more than a few jars of dates and some hope.
I had no family in Medina. I was one of the Muhajirun—those who had left Mecca with nothing but faith. When we arrived, the Ansar—the helpers of Medina—welcomed us with more generosity than I had ever seen. Some even split their homes and wealth with strangers just because we were brothers in Islam.
That day, I watched one of the Ansar, a farmer named Rafi, hand over half his orchard to a brother from Mecca. He smiled as he gave it away. I couldn’t believe it. Was this what brotherhood looked like?
But I still had doubts about the market. In Mecca, trade had been tough—even dishonest at times. Some traders would hide bad parts of the goods or lie about weight. I had seen so much trickery that I began thinking maybe that was just the way it had to be to survive.
Until I met him.
He had no stall, just a small blanket on the roadside with cloth and perfume. He sat calmly, not shouting like the rest of us. I had heard his name before—Al-Amin, the Trustworthy. That was what people in Mecca used to call Prophet Muhammad ﷺ long before he became the Messenger of Allah.
I watched as a man came up to him. The Prophet ﷺ picked up a small bottle of perfume and said, “Its scent is strong, but it fades quickly.” There was no trick in his voice, no sales language. Just honesty.
Another time, I saw a woman ask about a piece of cloth. It looked flawless to me, but the Prophet ﷺ gently showed her a small tear hidden in the corner. “It is still useful,” he said, “but it's not perfect.”
People still bought from him. In fact, they lined up to give him their coins. I realized then it wasn’t the perfume or the cloth—it was the truth they were buying. They trusted him because he never broke that trust.
That day changed how I thought about trade—and about life. I decided that even if I made less, I would be honest. No more hiding defects, no more lies to make a quick sale. I began to see that wealth doesn’t just come from money. It comes from barakah—Allah’s blessing—and that only comes with honesty.
Later, I learned that when the Prophet ﷺ arrived in Medina, he didn’t choose to take land or wealth from the Ansar. Instead, he asked to be shown the market. He wanted to work—honestly and with dignity.
And he showed us that every deal is a chance to be truthful. To worship, even while we sell dates or cloth. That’s when I began to understand what it means to be called “Trustworthy.”
And that is how I changed—not just as a trader, but as a believer.
—
Story Note: This story is inspired by authentic traditions, including the hadith in Sahih al-Bukhari 3782, which tells of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ forming bonds of brotherhood between the Muhajirun and Ansar, and his exemplary honesty in trade before and after prophethood.
