I still remember the day they nailed the scroll to the door of the Kaaba — the sacred house in Mecca, where all tribes came to worship. I was a boy then, barely twelve, and my father had just told me we would no longer sell food or trade with the family of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived through those cruel years — the boycott that the Quraysh leaders placed on Banu Hashim, the Prophet’s clan. They wanted to silence him, to push him into giving up his message. They didn’t like that he preached that there is only one God — Allah — and that idols held no power.
The boycott meant no food, no business, no marriage, no visits. People like us were told to turn our backs on the Prophet ﷺ and his family. My father, a trader, obeyed the Quraysh chiefs. He said it was for peace. “We can’t go against the elders,” he used to say.
But something troubled me. One afternoon, I followed the path that wound near the valley where the Prophet ﷺ and his family had taken shelter — a rough place called Shiʿb Abi Talib. From the ridge above, I couldn’t hear them, but I could see their tents — simple cloths tied to wooden poles. Thin smoke rose from small fires. But even from far away, I could tell something was wrong. The children looked like shadows. I saw one boy chewing leaves from a branch.
I had never known hunger like they did. That night, I couldn’t sleep.
The days passed, and the boycott continued for years. Some say it lasted three. I watched as the faces of the Prophet’s supporters grew thinner. Some of our neighbors secretly sent food wrapped in cloth, leaving it on the edge of the valley at night. I once saw a man carrying a sack of flour on his back under cover of dark. He whispered the name of the Prophet ﷺ before he placed it on the rocks.
One day, I heard something that I will never forget. A traveler had returned from the valley and said that the Prophet ﷺ still led the prayers five times a day, as part of his sunnah — his example — whenever it was time for them. Even in hardship, even when children cried for bread, he stood for prayer. That stayed with me.
Eventually, the boycott tore the hearts of some Qurayshi men. They knew the document was unfair. It is said that termites had eaten the scroll hanging in the Kaaba — all but the words “In Your Name, O Allah.” That gave people fear and wonder. The boycott ended not long after.
Now, many years later, I am old. I became Muslim after the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah. But my turning began the day I saw the Prophet’s patience — not with swords or anger, but with prayer, faith, and trust in Allah.
Story Note: Inspired by hadith and seerah sources, including Bukhari 1099 and classical biographies that describe the boycott of Banu Hashim and the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ unwavering devotion to prayer and endurance during the harsh years of persecution in Mecca.
I still remember the day they nailed the scroll to the door of the Kaaba — the sacred house in Mecca, where all tribes came to worship. I was a boy then, barely twelve, and my father had just told me we would no longer sell food or trade with the family of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived through those cruel years — the boycott that the Quraysh leaders placed on Banu Hashim, the Prophet’s clan. They wanted to silence him, to push him into giving up his message. They didn’t like that he preached that there is only one God — Allah — and that idols held no power.
The boycott meant no food, no business, no marriage, no visits. People like us were told to turn our backs on the Prophet ﷺ and his family. My father, a trader, obeyed the Quraysh chiefs. He said it was for peace. “We can’t go against the elders,” he used to say.
But something troubled me. One afternoon, I followed the path that wound near the valley where the Prophet ﷺ and his family had taken shelter — a rough place called Shiʿb Abi Talib. From the ridge above, I couldn’t hear them, but I could see their tents — simple cloths tied to wooden poles. Thin smoke rose from small fires. But even from far away, I could tell something was wrong. The children looked like shadows. I saw one boy chewing leaves from a branch.
I had never known hunger like they did. That night, I couldn’t sleep.
The days passed, and the boycott continued for years. Some say it lasted three. I watched as the faces of the Prophet’s supporters grew thinner. Some of our neighbors secretly sent food wrapped in cloth, leaving it on the edge of the valley at night. I once saw a man carrying a sack of flour on his back under cover of dark. He whispered the name of the Prophet ﷺ before he placed it on the rocks.
One day, I heard something that I will never forget. A traveler had returned from the valley and said that the Prophet ﷺ still led the prayers five times a day, as part of his sunnah — his example — whenever it was time for them. Even in hardship, even when children cried for bread, he stood for prayer. That stayed with me.
Eventually, the boycott tore the hearts of some Qurayshi men. They knew the document was unfair. It is said that termites had eaten the scroll hanging in the Kaaba — all but the words “In Your Name, O Allah.” That gave people fear and wonder. The boycott ended not long after.
Now, many years later, I am old. I became Muslim after the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah. But my turning began the day I saw the Prophet’s patience — not with swords or anger, but with prayer, faith, and trust in Allah.
Story Note: Inspired by hadith and seerah sources, including Bukhari 1099 and classical biographies that describe the boycott of Banu Hashim and the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ unwavering devotion to prayer and endurance during the harsh years of persecution in Mecca.
