It was just before sunrise when I heard the hushed knock on our courtyard door. My name won’t be found in the books of hadith or seerah, but I was there in those quiet days when the people of Madinah waited—hearts trembling with excitement—for the arrival of Allah’s Messenger ﷺ.
My father was a date farmer in Yathrib, the city later named Madinah, meaning “The City.” He wasn’t a scholar, but he always said, “If the truth finds you, grab hold of it like a vine wrapping a pillar.” We had listened for months to stories brought from Mecca—that sacred city where the Kaaba stands—about a man calling to worship only Allah, and the hardships he and his followers faced.
That morning, I was sent by my father to the outskirts of the city, where some of the Muslims had gathered near Quba, a small village a few days’ walk from Mecca. The Messenger of Allah ﷺ—Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him—had begun his secret journey, his Hijrah, to escape the danger in Mecca. The leaders there, who worshipped idols, were angry at him for rejecting their gods and calling people to Islam. They had even plotted to kill him.
I waited under the rising sun, among others holding their breath in hope. Each caravan that approached made our heads jerk up. “Is it him?” we would murmur. The days had stretched long—and the enemy’s spies longer. But we trusted that Allah would protect His Messenger.
Then he came.
I only saw him from a distance, walking calmly beside his closest friend, Abu Bakr—may Allah be pleased with him. Abu Bakr was worn from the journey, and his face showed the strain of protecting the Prophet ﷺ through the desert and cave. The Prophet ﷺ didn’t look worn. He looked radiant, the way a hidden lamp looks when uncovered in the night.
People ran forward, weeping, calling out, but I just stood there. I couldn’t move. My throat tightened. I didn’t even understand this feeling then, but now I do—my heart was tasting certainty.
Later that day, back in the village, I helped sweep the place where he would rest. I heard people repeating the same story—how he and Abu Bakr had hidden inside the cave of Thawr, and how Allah sent a spider to weave its web and a dove to nest at the entrance, so the hunters would turn away, thinking no one had passed by. This is told in Sahih al-Bukhari, hadith number 3906.
That night, as the stars blinked overhead, I asked my father, “Why would Allah hide them behind something so small?”
He smiled. “Because when Allah protects someone, even a spider becomes stronger than an army.”
From then on, I never thought of strength the same way. It wasn’t in weapons or numbers. It was in trusting Allah, even when afraid. The Hijrah didn’t just bring the Prophet ﷺ to our city. It brought something greater—faith, light, and a new beginning.
Story Note: Inspired by the Hijrah (emigration) of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ to Madinah, as preserved in Sahih al-Bukhari 3906 and classical seerah works.
It was just before sunrise when I heard the hushed knock on our courtyard door. My name won’t be found in the books of hadith or seerah, but I was there in those quiet days when the people of Madinah waited—hearts trembling with excitement—for the arrival of Allah’s Messenger ﷺ.
My father was a date farmer in Yathrib, the city later named Madinah, meaning “The City.” He wasn’t a scholar, but he always said, “If the truth finds you, grab hold of it like a vine wrapping a pillar.” We had listened for months to stories brought from Mecca—that sacred city where the Kaaba stands—about a man calling to worship only Allah, and the hardships he and his followers faced.
That morning, I was sent by my father to the outskirts of the city, where some of the Muslims had gathered near Quba, a small village a few days’ walk from Mecca. The Messenger of Allah ﷺ—Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him—had begun his secret journey, his Hijrah, to escape the danger in Mecca. The leaders there, who worshipped idols, were angry at him for rejecting their gods and calling people to Islam. They had even plotted to kill him.
I waited under the rising sun, among others holding their breath in hope. Each caravan that approached made our heads jerk up. “Is it him?” we would murmur. The days had stretched long—and the enemy’s spies longer. But we trusted that Allah would protect His Messenger.
Then he came.
I only saw him from a distance, walking calmly beside his closest friend, Abu Bakr—may Allah be pleased with him. Abu Bakr was worn from the journey, and his face showed the strain of protecting the Prophet ﷺ through the desert and cave. The Prophet ﷺ didn’t look worn. He looked radiant, the way a hidden lamp looks when uncovered in the night.
People ran forward, weeping, calling out, but I just stood there. I couldn’t move. My throat tightened. I didn’t even understand this feeling then, but now I do—my heart was tasting certainty.
Later that day, back in the village, I helped sweep the place where he would rest. I heard people repeating the same story—how he and Abu Bakr had hidden inside the cave of Thawr, and how Allah sent a spider to weave its web and a dove to nest at the entrance, so the hunters would turn away, thinking no one had passed by. This is told in Sahih al-Bukhari, hadith number 3906.
That night, as the stars blinked overhead, I asked my father, “Why would Allah hide them behind something so small?”
He smiled. “Because when Allah protects someone, even a spider becomes stronger than an army.”
From then on, I never thought of strength the same way. It wasn’t in weapons or numbers. It was in trusting Allah, even when afraid. The Hijrah didn’t just bring the Prophet ﷺ to our city. It brought something greater—faith, light, and a new beginning.
Story Note: Inspired by the Hijrah (emigration) of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ to Madinah, as preserved in Sahih al-Bukhari 3906 and classical seerah works.
