This unexpected hijrah … calls us to rise as guardians of mercy, justice and moral responsibility. It reminds us of what Africa once was — and what it can and must be again: a sanctuary for the oppressed.
By SAADIA GANI
SOUTH AFRICA’S Abyssinia moment is upon us — a moment when history does not merely echo but returns with a clarity that unsettles the soul. History is a teacher, and it repeatedly calls on humanity to act with conscience.
Over fourteen hundred years ago, the early Muslims fled persecution in Makkah and crossed the Red Sea to the Christian kingdom of Abyssinia. Under the just rule of the Negus, they found protection, dignity and the freedom to live without fear. Africa became their sanctuary and the foundation for their eventual liberation.
Today, Palestinians fleeing genocide have landed on South African soil. Their extraction from Gaza was marked by irregularity and injustice. They were moved through military bases, misled about their destination and left undocumented. These transfers violate international law, including the Fourth Geneva Convention, which prohibits an occupying power from forcibly transferring civilians, relocating them without proper documentation or outsourcing such movement to private entities. These actions constitute unlawful deportation and coercive transfer — recognised war crimes.
The Palestinians who arrived were disoriented and exhausted yet carried the emblematic patience (ṣabr) and steadfastness (sumud) that have come to define their struggle.
South Africa — together with the Department of International Relations and Cooperation (Dirco) and Gift of the Givers — restored order, dignity and safety. Food, water, medical assistance and legal processing were provided promptly. Where others stripped them of dignity, South Africa stepped forward to restore it.
For two years we watched the genocide unfold on screens. Now the survivors walk among us. They are no longer distant images but living ambassadors of Palestine, carrying their grief, resilience and moral testimony.
Their arrival is both a blessing and a sacred responsibility.
This moment is more than political analysis — it is spiritual introspection. It is the convergence of conscience, revelation and African ethical tradition. It is an invitation to recognise in these families the inheritors of a sacred trust placed before us. That trust calls to something ancient, African and deeply spiritual within us.
This is our Abyssinia moment: our opportunity to be a land where no one is wronged, where the oppressed find refuge and where trauma becomes a pathway to renewal.
The Qur’an urges us toward striving — jihad in its truest sense.
Allah says: ‘And strive for the cause of Allah with the striving due to Him.’ (Sura Al Hajj, 22:78)
And in Sura Al ‘Ankabut: ‘And whoever strives, only strives for the purification of his own self.’ (Sura Al ‘Ankabut, 29:6)
This is the jihad of conscience, unity, discipline, compassion and responsibility — the struggle against apathy, fear and division. It is the call to rise as a people who honour the refuge history has placed in our care.
This moment demands that South Africa — its masājid, organisations, civil society movements and activist networks — mobilise as a unified force.
Let us put aside rivalry. Let us dissolve division. Let us build coordinated structures of care, legal support, integration and long-term rebuilding. Let us show the world what South Africa is capable of when its heart beats as one.
The South African response echoes the moral precedent of the Negus of Abyssinia. Just as he welcomed persecuted Muslims fleeing Makkah, President Cyril Ramaphosa articulated that same principle of compassionate justice when he said:
‘Even though they do not have the necessary documents and papers, these are people from a strife-torn, a war-torn country, and out of compassion, out of empathy, we must receive them and be able to deal with the situation that they are facing.’
In his words we witness the enduring African ethic that the oppressed must be protected and their dignity restored. It highlights the responsibility of both state and citizen: when the persecuted arrive at our doorstep, compassion and justice must shape our response.
If Africa once sheltered the early Muslims, it can shelter the children of Gaza today. If Abyssinia restored dignity, South Africa can nurture healing and hope.
We are no longer distant witnesses. The victims of genocide now walk our streets. We must become custodians of their safety, companions in their healing and partners in rebuilding their future.
Every era contains a defining moment in which humanity reveals its true character. This unexpected hijrah onto our shores is such a moment. It calls us to rise as guardians of mercy, justice and moral responsibility. It reminds us of what Africa once was — and what it can and must be again: a sanctuary for the oppressed.
Let us rise to this moment with the courage of Abyssinia, the compassion of the Negus, the unity forged through struggle and the striving that Allah commands.
And may history record that South Africa stood firm — with justice, with mercy and with unwavering moral light.
Saadia Gani is an attorney with her Master’s in English. Her writings and research focus on social justice, spirituality and contemporary Muslim discourse.
