In the quiet village of Nyakasenge, something profound was unfolding—not through loud proclamations or public debates, but through simple, genuine human connection.
The iERA Uganda Du’aat, sent to share the message of Islam, did more than just speak; they lived their message. With humility, kindness, and sincerity, they embedded themselves within the village, not as outsiders, but as neighbors, friends, and brothers in humanity.
Their approach wasn’t about arguments or confrontation. It was about presence. About walking with the people, sharing meals, listening intently, and serving without expectation. Slowly but surely, their hearts began to resonate with the villagers’.
Walls of doubt and misconception softened, and the truth of Islam began to settle like seeds into fertile soil. One by one, villagers started making their way to the mosque—not out of curiosity, but out of conviction.
Among them was a young man named Mozesi, just 25 years old.
For some time, Mozesi had felt a strong pull toward Islam. Its teachings, its simplicity, its sense of purpose—it all made sense to him. He had made a firm intention: he would become a Muslim. And he had hoped to do it on a special day—that Friday, right after Jumu’ah.
But as he and his friends waited in their usual spot, the familiar faces of the Du’aat did not appear. They were, understandably, at the mosque, attending the weekly congregational prayer. Mozesi didn’t know this, and his heart sank.
The day he had chosen to step into the light seemed to be slipping through his fingers. The disappointment was heavy. “I wanted today to be my first Jumu’ah as a Muslim,” he said later, with tears in his eyes.
Yet, where human plans fall short, Allah’s plan prevails.
At that very moment of sadness and uncertainty, as Mozesi stood unsure of what to do, someone casually mentioned that the mosque wasn’t far, and that he might find help there. And then, as though divinely timed, the village imam walked into the very spot where Mozesi and his friends stood.
It was no coincidence—it was qadr.
Together, the imam and Mozesi walked to the mosque. No grand ceremony, no crowd—just a sincere soul returning to its Creator. At the mosque, he quietly but confidently uttered the words of the Shahada: La ilaha illa Allah, Muhammadur Rasulullah. And just like that, a journey years in the making reached its beautiful beginning.
With tears of gratitude and a heart overflowing with peace, Mozesi promised to grow in his new faith. He committed himself to learning, to worship, to walking the path of Islam with the same sincerity that had brought him to it.
His story is not just about one man embracing a new faith. It’s about the power of authentic da’wah—one built not just on words, but on character, on presence, on love for people. When hearts listen, even silence can be louder than speeches.
And in Nyakasenge, hearts were listening. And hearts, by the will of Allah, were changing.
