A Wake-Up Call to the Ummah: Reviving the Spirit of Unity and Charity

By Abdallah Kassim

Assalamu Alaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh.

My beloved brothers and sisters in Islam.

I come to you not with judgment, but with a deep ache in my chest—a loving, urgent plea from one member of this ummah to another. Please, lend me your heart for just a few moments.

I remember it like yesterday. Growing up in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, our Muslim community felt like one big, warm family. When hardship knocked on any door—poverty, illness, a young dreamer unable to pay school fees, or the dream of raising a new masjid—we didn’t hesitate. We opened our wallets, our homes, our hearts. Every small contribution became a miracle when placed together. Tears of relief flowed as burdens were lifted. And oh, how that love touched souls beyond our circle!

Non-Muslims watched in awe, felt the pull of such genuine brotherhood, and many stepped forward to say the Shahadah because they wanted to belong to a people who truly cared.

Those same non-Muslims took the lesson we lived so beautifully. They learned from us the power of standing together, and today they have perfected it in their own way—mobilising swiftly, generously, without asking tribe or background when someone is in need.

But my dear family, when I look at us now, my eyes fill with tears. Where did that fire go? While others unite stronger than ever, we—Allah forgive us—are allowing cracks to widen in our own home. We help, yes, but too often only those who look like us, speak like us, come from the same corner of the world as us (Asians tend to help only Asians, Somalis only Somalis, and so on—leaving many brothers and sisters in the wider ummah feeling isolated and overlooked). Ethnic walls rise where once there were open arms. Class divides where once there was shared mercy. And in the silence, brothers and sisters suffer alone.

Just days ago, I was invited in a WhatsApp group for a medical appeal for someone outside our community, itstarted at zero—and in the blink of an eye, hearts from all walks of life poured in support until it crossed a million shillings mark. I rejoiced for that person… but my heart broke for our own. How many of our children are quietly dropping their dreams because fees remain unpaid? How many mothers and fathers lie awake at night, terrified of hospital bills they cannot settle? How many homes hide empty plates behind closed doors?

We stream into our masajids, shoulders touching in sujood, yet walk out without asking, “Who among us is hurting today?”

This is not who we are meant to be. This is not the ummah our Beloved Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) wept for, prayed for, sacrificed everything to build.

Allah, in His infinite mercy, calls us back with words that pierce the soul: “The believers are but brothers, so make settlement between your brothers. And fear Allah that you may receive mercy.” ((Surah Al-Hujurat 49:10)

Brothers. Sisters. One family. Imagine Allah saying this while looking at us now—does it not bring tears? He reminds us why He made us different: “O mankind, We created you from male and female and made you peoples and tribes that you may know one another. Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous.” ((Surah Al-Hujurat 49:13)

Our colours, languages, and origins are gifts to bring us closer—not to push us apart. Our Messenger (peace and blessings be upon him) wept when he described us: “The believers in their mutual kindness, compassion, and sympathy are just like one body. When one limb suffers, the whole body responds with wakefulness and fever.” (Bukhari and Muslim)

Can we honestly say we feel that fever today when a sister from another background loses hope? Allah commands our hearts to act: “Cooperate in righteousness and piety…” (Surah Al-Ma’idah 5:2)

He paints the portrait of the believers He loves: “The believing men and women are allies of one another… They establish prayer and give zakah…” (Surah At-Tawbah 9:71)

And He tells us what true righteousness really feels like: “…and gives wealth, in spite of love for it, to relatives, orphans, the needy, the traveler, and those who ask…” (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:177)

Yes, our numbers have grown. The needs feel heavier than ever. But since when did Allah’s promises depend on ease? Since when did love become conditional on convenience?

My dear ummah, imagine—just imagine—if we rose tomorrow with fire in our hearts again. If every masjid became not only a place of prayer but a fountain of mercy. If every one of us asked, “Who needs my help today?” and acted. We would heal wounds we didn’t even know existed. We would raise a generation proud to say, “I am Muslim.” And once again, hearts outside our fold would turn toward the light they see in us.

This is not impossible. It is who we truly are. It is the legacy waiting for us to reclaim.

Let us wipe away the tears of division and replace them with tears of reunion. Let us return to Allah together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

May Allah ignite that forgotten fire in every chest. May He make us once again the ummah that makes Him smile.

Abdallah Kassim is a journalist based in Nairobi

The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Sahifa Media