I want to tell you a story about a car but really, it is a story about trust.
A story about how 34 people gave out their money to someone they knew only through a screen, and for children they had never met, in a city some of them had never visited. It’s a story about what happens when a community decides quietly, generously, without fanfare that a need they did not create is still somehow their responsibility.
This is that story.
It all started with a visit
I have a tradition with my children that I hold dear.
On their birthdays instead of celebrations and throwing parties we visit an orphanage. I want them to grow up knowing that the gifts they receive are not things they earned themselves, they are all a gift from Al Wahab. That the home they come back to, the food on their plates, the parents who tuck them in at night these are not guarantees. They are blessings and blessings carry responsibility.
It is one of the most important things I believe I can teach them while they are still young enough to let it shape them.
This particular year, I was looking for a different orphanage to visit and received a recommendation for Al-Ansar Children’s Home in Kuje, Abuja. So in December, Ayman and I went.
It is a spacious and safe haven on Hajia Zarah Street, a home for children who, through no fault of their own, have been left without the protection of a parent. Owned by different women and managed daily by their matron, a woman named Mrs. Rahmatu (a Muslim revert from Cross River States) who has given her life to making sure those children are fed, clothed, cared for, and not forgotten.
When we visited, Mrs. Rahmatu opened up to me and spoke with the quiet honesty of someone who has long since stopped trying to make things sound better than they are. She told me about the daily realities of running the home. The constraints. The gaps. The things that kept her up at night.
And then she mentioned the transport situation…their biggest issue.
Without a reliable vehicle, everything was harder. Buying food from the market meant depending on others. A medical emergency meant scrambling. School trips, developmental programmes, routine errands, all of it was complicated by the simple absence of a car.
She did not ask me for a vehicle. She simply told me the truth about what life looked like without one, and that truth was enough to keep me up at night.
I left that visit knowing something needed to be done but I also left knowing that what was needed was beyond what I could do alone.
A vehicle is not a small thing. A vehicle that would be registered in the name of the orphanage, truly belonging to the institution, not to any individual, was something that required a community.
I have learned from experience that whenever you want to do something good, you must do it quickly. Shaytan does not sleep. Delays disguise themselves as practicality. The thought that stays in your heart too long without becoming action has a way of quietly dying there.
So I made a decision, prayed about it and then I told my community.
I explained what I had seen. What was needed. How the funds would be used. How every naira would be accounted for and I made the humble invitation; would you like to be part of those Allah selected to deliver on this project?
I did not expect much. I have tried to fundraise before and learned that the response is never guaranteed, but I have also learned that when Allah wants something to happen, He arranges it in ways that leave no room for doubt.
Within days, the donations began coming in.
34 individuals from different parts of the world, united by nothing except a willingness to share from what Allah had entrusted to them.
Some gave large. Some gave small. Every single contribution was received with equal gratitude, recorded with equal care, and carried an equal weight in what it said about the person giving it.
“Say [O Prophet, that Allah says], “O My servants who believe! Be mindful of your Lord. Those who do good in this world will have a good reward. And Allah’s earth is spacious. Only those who endure patiently will be given their reward without limit.” Surah Az-Zumar, 39:10
Over 21 days, three weeks, ₦5,650,005.00 was raised entirely through voluntary contributions.
I want you to sit with that number for a moment. Five million, six hundred and fifty thousand naira. For children in Kuje who will never know the names of the people who gave it. For a matron who had simply told the truth about what she needed. For a vehicle that now sits in a driveway, registered in the name of Al-Ansar Children’s Home, ready to carry those children wherever they need to go.
I need to be honest with you about what it felt like to hold this money.
It was not comfortable. It was not exciting. It was heavy.
Amanah is one of the most serious responsibilities in Islam. Every naira that came in was a naira that someone had earned, decided to give, and placed in my hands with full confidence that it would reach where it was meant to go. That is not a small thing. That is not something you can be casual about.
I tracked every contribution. I cross-referenced every receipt. I created a spreadsheet and reconciled it against my bank statement. When bank charges of ₦50 began appearing on each incoming transaction, I set aside an amount to cover them because I did not want a single kobo of a donation to be eaten by fees. Every naira given by every person was going to be spent on those children.
I could not sleep easily during those three weeks and I say that not to complain. I say it because I think anyone who handles public trust should feel that weight. The day you stop feeling it is the day you should stop.
This experienced confirmed to me I cannot hold a public office…the burden would be too much given the type of person I am. How do Governors and Presidents genuinely sleep at night knowing that large amounts of public funds are entrusted in their hands and they will have to account for every kobo? Subhanallah. May Allah protect us all from mismanagement. Ameen.
What your money did
Here is exactly how every naira was spent. This is not a summary it is a complete account. Because you deserve to know.
Purchase of a 2006 silver Honda vehicle (sourced from Kano, transported to Abuja): ₦4,500,000.00
Vehicle fuelling and driver fee (Kano to Abuja delivery): ₦100,000.00
Abuja car registration and official plate number in the name of Al-Ansar Children’s Home: ₦120,000.00
Vehicle servicing: engine oil, oil filter, and labour (JCF Car Tuning Limited): ₦101,050.00
Car wash and final preparation: ₦5,000.00
Food items for the children (Yetmos Concepts Wholesalers, Utako Market): ₦582,800.00
Essential medicines and hygiene care products (Bakan Gizo Pharmacy): ₦241,920.00
Total: ₦5,650,005.00 every naira accounted for
The vehicle has been formally registered in the name of Al-Ansar Children’s Home, not in any individual’s name, not temporarily, but permanently. It is an institutional asset. It belongs to the orphanage. It belongs to those children.
Also because the community gave more than the cost of the vehicle alone, the remaining funds were channelled into food supplies, medicine, and hygiene products.
The goal was never just a vehicle. The goal was to leave the home in a better position than we found it.
What did not go as planned (and why I am telling you)
Transparency means sharing the difficult parts too. Not just the beautiful ones.
The original plan was to purchase a direct Belgium Peugeot that had been identified early in the fundraising phase. Before the full funds were secured, the vehicle was sold by the vendor.
We had to go back to the drawing board. A Honda Accord was selected as a replacement, marginally more expensive, but assessed to offer better long-term value in terms of durability, spare parts availability, fuel efficiency, and lower running costs. The decision was taken with consultation and with the long-term needs of the orphanage in mind. Not the cheapest option. The most sustainable one.
Additionally, an industrial strike by FCT workers caused delays in vehicle registration and plate processing. What was projected to be completed by the 2nd of February was ultimately completed on the 8th. The delay was outside our control. The follow-up was not. Every necessary step was completed properly, in the name of Al-Ansar Children’s Home, before handover.
I tell you this because I believe accountability means reporting what went wrong as clearly as what went right. A transparency report that only contains good news is not a transparency report, it is a press release.
The handover
On the 8th of February 2026, we drove to Al-Ansar Children’s Home in Kuje.
The car arrived first, cleaned, serviced, registered, and fuelled. Behind it came the food: bags of rice, semovita, corn flakes, Milo, tins of fish, cooking essentials. Then the medicines and hygiene products: paracetamol, vitamins, nebulizers, antacids, sanitisers, toothbrushes, detergent, baby care items.
Mrs. Rahmatu signed the acknowledgement of receipt. The vehicle documentation was handed over. Everything was recorded.
I am not going to pretend it was a quiet, understated handover. It was not.
When we arrived and Mrs. Rahmatu understood, truly understood that the car was theirs, that it was registered in the name of Al-Ansar Children’s Home and would not be taken back, something happened that I was not prepared for.
The orphanage erupted.
Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
The children the older ones and the little ones screamed with a joy so pure and so unfiltered that it silenced every anxiety I had carried through those three weeks. Mrs. Rahmatu, this woman who had quietly told me the truth about their struggles, who had run that home on faith and determination went straight into sajdah shukr right there, with tears streaming down her face.
I stood and watched and could not help but cry alongside her. What an honour to be used by Allah to fulfil the pressing need and long awaited prayers of the owners, carers and children.
There are moments in life that do not need to be photographed to be preserved. Out of respect for those children, for their dignity, for the sacredness of that moment, I did not reach for my phone. I chose to be fully present instead.
But that image is etched into me permanently. The chanting. The tears. The sajdah. A woman prostrating in gratitude to Allah on behalf of children who had no one else to do it for them.
That is what your money did.
What I ask of you
The project is closed. The report is complete. The accountability record is published in full; every naira, every receipt, every decision documented and linked below for anyone who wants to review it.
But there is one thing that no report can close. One thing that remains open, always, for as long as those children benefit from what was given.
Please make dua.
Make dua for the children of Al-Ansar Children’s Home. That Allah places tranquillity in their hearts, strength in their steps, and hope in their futures. That He is their Guardian where guardians are absent, their Provider where resources are scarce, their Comforter in moments of need.
Make dua for Mrs. Rahmatu and every caregiver who serves those children with patience and sincerity. For every quiet sacrifice and every tear wiped away that no one saw but Allah.
Make dua for every person who gave whether they gave ₦1,000 or ₦1,000,000, whether they gave publicly or quietly, whether they gave money or gave a sincere dua. Allah knows every name and every naira and He rewards in ways that no report could ever capture.
Please make dua for this community. For what we are capable of when we decide together that a need we did not create is still somehow our responsibility.
O Allah, accept it from us.
Ameen, ya Rabb al-Alamin.
PROJECT SUMMARY
Supporting Transport, Food & Care for Al-Ansar Children’s Home
Project Code: ASF-I-26-P01-ANSARCARE
19 January 2026 — 8 February 2026 · 21 days
34 contributors · ₦5,650,005.00 raised · 100% disbursed
Stewarded by Hasiya Altiné Nagode
View the full Transparency & Accountability Report Below
Jazakumullahu Khayran to every single person who was part of this. May every naira be a weight of light on your scales. May Allah give you more than you gave, in ways you did not expect, from directions you did not anticipate. May the silver Honda carry those children safely to school, to the doctor, to a better future for as long as it runs.
Cover Image Credit
Chirag Saini
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