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What about little Ibrahim?
Support little Ibrahim and his friends.
How do you think he feels?
I keep thinking about a little boy: alone, cold & waiting for his mama & baba who will never come.
He comes up to me, crying. His clothes are dirty, thin and he has no protection from the cold. His name is Ibrahim. He’s hungry. He must be about 3 or 4. He doesn’t have a mama or baba. He just wants someone to look after him.
He wants things to be ok again.
I pick him up and, from the bottom of my heart, feel that I want to protect him. I want little Ibrahim to be okay. And, by the grace of Allah, I have the ability to help him be okay.
He then slowly goes away from within my arms, slowly evaporating. I realise it was not real. It was all just a fragment of my imagination.
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