A reflection from Sheikh Mokhtars series on the Seerah in Uskudar. 2018

His horse was a speck of white in the dust of the golden sand approaching Mecca. It was after Asr and Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was walking over the hill of Safa when he came face to face with Abu Jahl. A slave girl of a nobleman’s family was also nearby passing over the hill.

Suddenly the air was rent with the screaming, insulting barrage of verbal abuse from Abu Jahls lips aimed at the gentle Al Ameen, the truthful. There was no response to Abu Jahl’s screaming, abuses alternating with cutting sarcasm.

She stood still to hear the response of the gentle one but the air remained devoid of his blessed calm voice. Suddenly to the shock and dismay of the slave girl Abu Jahl bent down, picked up a rock and hurled it at the gentle one, the Al Ameen. She watched with horror as the rock struck his blessed head, which started to bleed. She looked at the gentle Al Ameen in amazement as he did not break his silence and no words of retribution escaped his lips. Abu Jahls face was contorted with frustration and anger. The air of Safa was suspended with the vicious words of Abu Jahl for the gentle one.

Meanwhile the angels waiting in the wings ached for the command of the Jalal of Allah………..and it came, astride a white Arabian horse galloping across the desert.

The slave girl stood rooted in her spot afraid to get closer to the rage of the elder man and the silent one while the air laden with the abuse swirled around her, like sewage swirling into the gutters of Mecca.

Deep sadness, compassion and surprise at the gentle “Al Ameen”,s silence in the face of such a continuous vile attack engulfed her with anger and the desire to do something to protect this gentle heart.

Far away the dust of the single horseman could be seen and with rapidity and speed of the Arabian steed she saw who emerged from the dust of the galloping horse and her heart soared with the satisfaction that justice would be done.

The handsome, fair skinned, dark haired young man who seeped masculinity in its finest form sat erect on the saddle like a Prince and yet just few minute earlier  he had been fluid and one with the horse, as he galloped across the desert for the last home stretch.

She had recognized him; indeed it was Hamzah the powerful strong sportsman of noble lineage and closest kin to the gentle one, returning to Mecca from a hunting expedition.

She slid down the hill of Safa avoiding the harsh large rocks and the needles in the thorny wild bushes and sped towards the galloping horse.

He had spotted a woman rushing towards him, her dark outer garment flying behind her as the wind had picked up; a scarf tied back her hair reminiscent of the servant girls in the city. He slowed his horse from a gallop to a trot and as she reached him breathless……he reined in his horse and stared at the servant girl who had dared to stop him on his gallop in the home stretch.

“ Your nephew……….your nephew Muhammad (pbuh) she said breathless, her face flushed with righteous anger, concern, her voice imploring………and she recounted in  detail the entire happening on the mountain between the gentle Al Ameen and the vituperous  Abu Jahl. She ended with the account of the verbal hurt being followed by the physical hurt, the blood seeping from the blessed brow hurting her like it was her own, her eyes imploring Hamzah for justice.

Something moved in the chest of Hamzah, Allah knows best…all the gentle courage of the orphaned son of his brother filled his heart with love and protective instinct overwhelming it like a tsunami. The angels kept pouring into his heart all that is fine, courageous, and righteous. The response came from his audacious, courageous and fearless spirit. He nodded to the slave girl and spurred his horse towards Mecca ready to pit himself against the injustice of his tribesman to his nephew.

Abu Jahl was sitting with his friends, drinking and bragging.

Hamzah entered into this social scene of the aristocracy of Mecca, still in his sporting gear, his bow still in his hand as he had alighted from his horse and walked to where Abu Jahl was seated.

Hamzah with honor in his heart and something else that was taking birth in it was still a mushrik at this time at least externally.

His face flushed with anger as he approached Abu Jahl and addressed him in harsh words, followed by words that changed the history and direction of Islam in Mecca:

“You hit my nephew and I belong to his faith,” he said in front of all seated there. He had never indicated this before, and with these words he hit Abu Jahl on the head with his bow and Abu Jahl began to bleed.

A new page was being written in the history of Dawah in Mecca. It had been five years since the first revelation came to Prophet Muhammad pbuh.

This event becomes a grand opening of Dawah, which begins its gallop across Mecca with the power of the personality and lineage of Hamzah in the saddle of Islam……..


*** I have taken some writers privilege in expanding the descriptions as provided  by Sheikh Mokhtar and in history articles.







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