I wasn’t born in Arabia. I wasn’t even born a Muslim. I came from a land far east — from Persia — where my father cared more for fire than truth.
My name is Salman. People called me Salman al-Farsi — Salman the Persian. This is the story of how Allah guided me, step by step, across deserts and empires, until His mercy brought me to the truth.
My father had a big house and was chief of our village. He loved me more than anything and kept me in the temple of fire, where we worshipped the flames. He didn’t let me go far, afraid I’d be influenced by others. But hearts that search for truth — they can’t be chained.
One day, I passed by a group of Christians at a church outside our village. Their prayers sounded so different, their tears so real. Even though I hadn’t planned to stop, my feet wouldn't move. Their worship touched something in me I never knew was empty. I stayed with them for hours.
When I told my father, he became angry and locked me up. But I knew then — their way was closer to the truth. I sent a message to them, and when a group was traveling to Syria — where Christian scholars lived — I escaped and joined them.
That journey led to many years of service. I traveled from monk to monk in search of the best teachers. Each time, I followed them, served them, prayed with them. But as each one passed away, I kept being told: “There is no more of our kind — but a prophet will soon come in the land of palm trees.”
I never forgot those words.
Eventually, I met a caravan heading to the Arabian Peninsula. I was told it was filled with date palms — could this be the place? I gave them what little I had to ride with them. But instead of taking me to that city, they betrayed me. They sold me as a slave to a Jewish man in Yathrib — the city that would later be called Madinah.
Even as a slave, I didn’t give up hope.
One day, my master took me into the orchards. A cousin of his arrived, speaking about a man named Muhammad ﷺ who claimed to be a prophet. My heart jumped. Was this the one?
I had been told three signs by my Christian teacher: the final Prophet would accept gifts but not charity, he would have a seal of Prophethood between his shoulders, and he would live in a land of date palms.
I gathered some food and approached him quietly. I said, “This is a gift.” He smiled and accepted it. The next day, I brought something and told him it was charity. He did not eat from it. Later, I managed to peek behind him — and there it was — the mark on his back like my teacher had described.
I couldn’t hold back. I cried and knelt before him.
He ﷺ didn’t treat me as a stranger or a slave. He told me about Allah — the One I had been searching for. And for the first time in my life, my journey had an end, and a new life had begun.
Every prayer I make remembers that mercy — of Allah guiding me from the fire to the light.
Story Note: This account is based on the well-known story of Salman al-Farsi, as recorded in authentic hadith and classical Seerah texts such as Ibn Ishaq’s biography of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ and tafsir by scholars like Ibn Kathir.
I wasn’t born in Arabia. I wasn’t even born a Muslim. I came from a land far east — from Persia — where my father cared more for fire than truth.
My name is Salman. People called me Salman al-Farsi — Salman the Persian. This is the story of how Allah guided me, step by step, across deserts and empires, until His mercy brought me to the truth.
My father had a big house and was chief of our village. He loved me more than anything and kept me in the temple of fire, where we worshipped the flames. He didn’t let me go far, afraid I’d be influenced by others. But hearts that search for truth — they can’t be chained.
One day, I passed by a group of Christians at a church outside our village. Their prayers sounded so different, their tears so real. Even though I hadn’t planned to stop, my feet wouldn't move. Their worship touched something in me I never knew was empty. I stayed with them for hours.
When I told my father, he became angry and locked me up. But I knew then — their way was closer to the truth. I sent a message to them, and when a group was traveling to Syria — where Christian scholars lived — I escaped and joined them.
That journey led to many years of service. I traveled from monk to monk in search of the best teachers. Each time, I followed them, served them, prayed with them. But as each one passed away, I kept being told: “There is no more of our kind — but a prophet will soon come in the land of palm trees.”
I never forgot those words.
Eventually, I met a caravan heading to the Arabian Peninsula. I was told it was filled with date palms — could this be the place? I gave them what little I had to ride with them. But instead of taking me to that city, they betrayed me. They sold me as a slave to a Jewish man in Yathrib — the city that would later be called Madinah.
Even as a slave, I didn’t give up hope.
One day, my master took me into the orchards. A cousin of his arrived, speaking about a man named Muhammad ﷺ who claimed to be a prophet. My heart jumped. Was this the one?
I had been told three signs by my Christian teacher: the final Prophet would accept gifts but not charity, he would have a seal of Prophethood between his shoulders, and he would live in a land of date palms.
I gathered some food and approached him quietly. I said, “This is a gift.” He smiled and accepted it. The next day, I brought something and told him it was charity. He did not eat from it. Later, I managed to peek behind him — and there it was — the mark on his back like my teacher had described.
I couldn’t hold back. I cried and knelt before him.
He ﷺ didn’t treat me as a stranger or a slave. He told me about Allah — the One I had been searching for. And for the first time in my life, my journey had an end, and a new life had begun.
Every prayer I make remembers that mercy — of Allah guiding me from the fire to the light.
Story Note: This account is based on the well-known story of Salman al-Farsi, as recorded in authentic hadith and classical Seerah texts such as Ibn Ishaq’s biography of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ and tafsir by scholars like Ibn Kathir.
