The first time I heard the news, I didn’t believe it.
A noble man from Mecca—Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him—was coming to our city. They said he spoke directly for Allah, the Creator of the heavens and the earth, and that he had been forced to leave his home because his people rejected him. I lived in Yathrib, which is now called Madinah, and I was just a young fruit seller. No one knew my name, and I never imagined I’d see with my own eyes the start of something so great.
When the Prophet ﷺ arrived, the whole city changed. People poured into the streets to welcome him. I watched from the back, standing on tiptoe behind the tall men. He stayed calm as he rode into our city, his face serene. Everyone wanted him to stay in their home, but he let his camel walk free until it stopped at the home of Abu Ayyub al-Ansari—one of us, the Ansar.
The Ansar were the people of Madinah who chose to help the Prophet ﷺ and the Muslims who migrated from Mecca. Like my uncle, who gave up a third of his farm so one of the Muhajirun—the migrants—could live from it. It wasn’t just kindness. It was faith. We believed in the message of the Qur’an—Allah is One, and Muhammad ﷺ is His final Messenger.
I remember the day the Prophet ﷺ announced the pact of brotherhood. Each migrant from Mecca was matched with a helper from Madinah. It wasn’t just words. They shared homes, food, and even inheritance until Allah gave further guidance. My uncle was paired with a quiet man named Sa’d. They had never met before, but I saw how my uncle offered him half of everything. Sa’d refused the wealth but accepted the love.
One night I overheard my uncle praying, “O Allah, let me give all that I have for Your sake.” I didn’t understand it then. Why give away what you’ve worked so hard for?
But it became clear the day a dispute broke out over spoils from a battle. Some from the Muhajirun had asked the Prophet ﷺ for more, and the Ansar heard of it. We felt forgotten—had we not given everything? But when the Prophet ﷺ gathered us, he said, “If it weren’t for the Hijrah, I would have been one of the Ansar.” His eyes were full of emotion. “The Ansar are like the inner garment, and others are like the outer one.”
That day, many of the Ansar wept. I did too. Not because we were sad, but because we realized: we didn’t give to be thanked—we gave for Allah. We were honored to be part of this mission.
Now, years later, I tell my children this story so they know what it means to help others purely for Allah’s sake. To be from the Ansar is not just to live in Madinah—it is to serve, to sacrifice, to love, and to believe.
And in that, we found our joy.
—
Story Note: Inspired by authentic ahadith and seerah traditions, including Bukhari 3782 on the Prophet’s ﷺ speech affirming the loyalty of the Ansar, and early bonds formed between Muhajirun and the Ansar.
The first time I heard the news, I didn’t believe it.
A noble man from Mecca—Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him—was coming to our city. They said he spoke directly for Allah, the Creator of the heavens and the earth, and that he had been forced to leave his home because his people rejected him. I lived in Yathrib, which is now called Madinah, and I was just a young fruit seller. No one knew my name, and I never imagined I’d see with my own eyes the start of something so great.
When the Prophet ﷺ arrived, the whole city changed. People poured into the streets to welcome him. I watched from the back, standing on tiptoe behind the tall men. He stayed calm as he rode into our city, his face serene. Everyone wanted him to stay in their home, but he let his camel walk free until it stopped at the home of Abu Ayyub al-Ansari—one of us, the Ansar.
The Ansar were the people of Madinah who chose to help the Prophet ﷺ and the Muslims who migrated from Mecca. Like my uncle, who gave up a third of his farm so one of the Muhajirun—the migrants—could live from it. It wasn’t just kindness. It was faith. We believed in the message of the Qur’an—Allah is One, and Muhammad ﷺ is His final Messenger.
I remember the day the Prophet ﷺ announced the pact of brotherhood. Each migrant from Mecca was matched with a helper from Madinah. It wasn’t just words. They shared homes, food, and even inheritance until Allah gave further guidance. My uncle was paired with a quiet man named Sa’d. They had never met before, but I saw how my uncle offered him half of everything. Sa’d refused the wealth but accepted the love.
One night I overheard my uncle praying, “O Allah, let me give all that I have for Your sake.” I didn’t understand it then. Why give away what you’ve worked so hard for?
But it became clear the day a dispute broke out over spoils from a battle. Some from the Muhajirun had asked the Prophet ﷺ for more, and the Ansar heard of it. We felt forgotten—had we not given everything? But when the Prophet ﷺ gathered us, he said, “If it weren’t for the Hijrah, I would have been one of the Ansar.” His eyes were full of emotion. “The Ansar are like the inner garment, and others are like the outer one.”
That day, many of the Ansar wept. I did too. Not because we were sad, but because we realized: we didn’t give to be thanked—we gave for Allah. We were honored to be part of this mission.
Now, years later, I tell my children this story so they know what it means to help others purely for Allah’s sake. To be from the Ansar is not just to live in Madinah—it is to serve, to sacrifice, to love, and to believe.
And in that, we found our joy.
—
Story Note: Inspired by authentic ahadith and seerah traditions, including Bukhari 3782 on the Prophet’s ﷺ speech affirming the loyalty of the Ansar, and early bonds formed between Muhajirun and the Ansar.
