The morning sun bathed the streets in a golden hue as the iERA Nigeria team set out for the weekly Street Dawah outreach.
The air was warm, carrying with it the murmurs of a city slowly coming to life.
With pamphlets in hand and hearts filled with purpose, the team approached people, engaging them in conversations about Islam—some listened intently, some walked away, but then the Duat met him.
He was a young man, his eyes filled with curiosity as he listened to the Duat words.
There was something in his demeanor—an eagerness to understand, a thirst for knowledge.
He nodded as a Daee spoke about the purpose of life, the oneness of Allah, and the message of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. His questions were sincere, his interest undeniable.
As the conversation deepened, the team extended an invitation—would he like to accept Islam? Would he testify that there is no god but Allah and that Muhammad is His final Messenger? A brief silence followed.
His lips parted as if to say something, but then he hesitated.
“I need time,” he finally said. “I want to learn more.”
The team respected his decision and handed him a few books, including a translation of the Qur’an. “Take your time,” they assured him. “Seek the truth with an open heart.” He smiled, took the books, and walked away.
Days passed, then, one afternoon, they saw him again, this time he approached them with urgency. But there was something different—his books were missing.
As he reached us, his voice carried a mix of frustration and excitement.
“My friends took them,” he said. “They all wanted to read them, especially the Qur’an. We argued over who gets to read first.”
The message had not just reached him—it had sparked a fire among his friends as well.
Without hesitation, the team replaced the books, ensuring he had another copy of the Qur’an for himself.
The team saw an opportunity. “You’ve read and reflected,” a Daee said gently. “Would you now take the step?”
His eyes softened, there was a war within him, a silent battle between fear and faith.
He looked down, then back at the team. “Not yet,” he said firmly. “I need to learn more.”
The smiled, the journey of faith is not always instant—sometimes, it is a slow unfolding, a gradual awakening.
And so, the team let him go once more, knowing that the seeds had been planted.
The rest was between him and Allah.
As he walked away, the warmth of the morning returned, but now it carried something more—a promise, a hope.
He would return, and when he was ready, when his heart was firm, he would utter the words that would change his life forever.
We would wait. And we would pray.
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