Transcription
My dear brothers and sisters, citizens of Burkina Faso, fellow Africans and people of faith across the world, I come before you today with a heart full of reverence and humility to share an experience that has profoundly transformed my understanding of leadership, faith, and our collective responsibility as Muslims and as human beings. What I am about to share with you is deeply personal. Yet, I believe it carries a message that extends far beyond my own life. A message that speaks to all of us who claim to follow the path of Islam and who seek to build a just society.
Three nights ago, in the stillness of the early morning hours during that blessed time before Fajr, when the veil between this world and the next grows thin, I experienced something that I can only describe as a divine visitation. I had retired to my quarters after a particularly difficult day of deliberations about the future of our nation. My mind was troubled with questions about security, about sovereignty, about how to protect our people while remaining true to our principles. I performed my ablutions, prayed my tahajud, and lay down to rest with a heavy heart.
In that state between wakefulness and sleep, I found myself in a place I cannot adequately describe with the limited vocabulary of our earthly languages. There was a light, not harsh, but gentle and all-encompassing. And in that light, I saw him. The prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, stood before me. His face radiated a beauty that no artist could capture, a nobility that no king or president could claim. His eyes held both infinite compassion and unwavering resolve. I knew without being told that I was in the presence of the messenger of Allah, the mercy to all worlds.
My brothers and sisters, I trembled, not from fear, but from overwhelming awe. Here was the man who had transformed the world, who had brought the final message from the creator to humanity, whose character was so perfect that Allah himself testified to it in the Quran. And he was looking at me, a simple soldier, a young man from Bonoukui who never imagined he would lead a nation.
The prophet, peace be upon him, spoke to me. His voice was unlike any I had heard. It carried the weight of eternity, yet felt as familiar as a father speaking to his son. He did not come with congratulations for the revolution we had led. Nor did he praise our efforts to restore dignity to our people. Instead, he came with warnings. He came to tell me what I must not do, what we, as Muslims in positions of power, must never allow ourselves to do.
The first warning he gave me shook the very foundation of how I had been thinking about leadership and Islam. He said to me, "Ibrahima, do not use my name to divide the ummah. Do not use Islam as a sword to cut your Muslim brothers and sisters into sects and factions. Do not declare takfir upon those who pray to the same God, who face the same qibla, who testify to the same shahada."
Brothers and sisters, these words penetrated my heart like arrows. In our struggle for sovereignty, in our resistance against neo-colonialism and imperialism, I had sometimes found it easy to question the faith of other Muslim leaders who took different paths, who made different choices. I had, in my heart, sometimes wondered if those who cooperated with foreign powers, who maintained ties with the former colonial masters, could truly be believers. The prophet, peace be upon him, was warning me against this very tendency. He reminded me that only Allah knows what is in the hearts of men. He told me that during his own life, there were hypocrites in Medina, people who outwardly professed Islam but inwardly rejected it. And yet, he did not go around declaring people to be outside the fold of Islam. He said that the greatest fitna, the greatest trial and tribulation, is when Muslims begin to excommunicate one another, when we appoint ourselves as judges over each other's faith. "Who are you?" he asked me, "to determine who is a Muslim and who is not? Did I not say that whoever testifies that there is no god but Allah and that I am his messenger, prays the prayer, and pays the zakat, their blood and wealth are protected? Did I not warn against the khawarij, those who would read the Quran but it would not pass beyond their throats, who would kill Muslims and leave the idolaters alone?"
This warning humbled me profoundly. In the heat of political struggle, in the urgency of protecting our nation from exploitation, it is easy to see the world in black and white, to divide people into the righteous and the wicked. But the prophet, peace be upon him, was reminding me that this is not our role. Our role is to call to goodness, to enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong, but never to usurp Allah's position as the ultimate judge of hearts and intentions.
The second warning he gave me was equally powerful. He said, "Do not use Islam to oppress women. Do not use my teachings as an excuse to deny women their rights, their education, their voice in society. Do not confuse culture with religion, tradition with revelation." My brothers and sisters, I must confess that this warning initially surprised me. In Burkina Faso, we have made progress in women's rights. Women serve in our military, in our government. But the prophet, peace be upon him, was not speaking only about our specific context. He was speaking about a broader tendency within the Muslim world to restrict women in the name of Islam, to silence them in the name of piety, to confine them in the name of protection.
He reminded me of his own life. How his first wife, Khadijah, was a successful businesswoman who employed him. How she was the first to believe in his message. How her support was crucial to the establishment of Islam. He reminded me of Aisha, the mother of the believers, who taught thousands of companions and became one of the greatest scholars of Islam. He reminded me of the women who gave bay'ah, the pledge of allegiance, directly to him, whose opinions he sought, who participated in the life of the early Muslim community. "Did I not say," he asked me, "that women are the twin halves of men? Did I not say that the best of you are those who are best to their women? Did I not stand and honor the memory of my mother and command that paradise lies at the feet of mothers?" How then can anyone claim to follow my example while denying women their God-given rights to knowledge, to dignity, to participation in the building of society?
He warned me specifically against using Islam to justify practices like forced marriage, denial of education to girls, or the confinement of women to only domestic roles. He said that while modesty is required of both men and women, while there are distinct roles and responsibilities, these should never be used as a pretext for oppression or marginalization. "Ibrahima," he said, "when you lead a nation, the way you treat the most vulnerable, the women, the children, the poor, the minorities, is the measure by which Allah will judge your leadership. Do not let anyone convince you that the path of Islam is the path of restricting and diminishing half of your population. The path of Islam is the path of justice for all."
The third warning came with even greater intensity. He said, "Do not use Islam to justify cruelty. Do not become harsh and severe in the name of implementing Sharia. Do not forget that I was sent as a mercy to all the worlds, not as a punishment." The prophet, peace be upon him, then reminded me of incidents from his own life. He told me about how he refused to curse those who had stoned him in Taif, instead praying for their guidance. He reminded me of how he forgave the people of Makkah when he returned victorious, when he had every worldly right to seek revenge. He told me about the Bedouin who urinated in the masjid and how the prophet stopped his companions from harshly rebuking the man, instead teaching with gentleness. "I walked gently on this earth," he said to me, "and I taught my companions to do the same. Did I not say that Allah is gentle and loves gentleness in all affairs? Did I not say that gentleness adorns all things, and when it is removed from something, it leaves it defective?" How then can people claim to establish my Sharia through violence, through public spectacles of punishment, through displays that humiliate rather than reform?
This was perhaps the hardest warning for me to hear because in our struggle against terrorism, against groups like those who threaten our people in the Sahel, there is a natural desire for harsh justice, for severe retribution. But the prophet, peace be upon him, was making a distinction for me. He said that while justice must be served, while criminals must be held accountable, while the community must be protected, this must always be done with wisdom, with proportionality, and with the ultimate goal of reformation and the protection of society, never with the goal of displaying power or instilling fear for its own sake. He specifically warned me against those who would implement certain punishments – stoning, amputations, executions – in ways that violate the strict conditions and extremely high standards of evidence that Islamic jurisprudence requires. He said that during his time, these punishments were rarely carried out precisely because the standards were so high, because the emphasis was always on repentance, on rehabilitation, on mercy. "Do you know?" he asked me, "that I told my companions to avoid the prescribed punishments whenever possible, to seek any excuse to avoid carrying them out? Do you know that I said it is better for a leader to err on the side of mercy than to err on the side of severity? Do you know that I curse those who make religion difficult, who make it a burden rather than a joy?"
The fourth warning concerned power itself. He said to me, "Ibrahima, do not become intoxicated with power. Do not surround yourself with those who only tell you what you want to hear. Do not use Islam as a shield against legitimate criticism. Do not confuse your political agenda with divine will." The prophet, peace be upon him, reminded me that he himself was corrected by revelation on several occasions. He recounted the incident of the blind man, Abdullah ibn Umm Maktum, when he was preoccupied with trying to convince the leaders of Quraysh to accept Islam and turned away from the blind man who came seeking knowledge. Allah revealed verses correcting this behavior. And the prophet never forgot this lesson. He told me about the prisoners of Badr when he was inclined toward ransoming them, but Allah revealed that this was not the best decision at that time. He told me about his intention to prohibit palm wine and how Umar's advice led to a more gradual approach to the prohibition of intoxicants. He showed me through these examples that leadership in Islam is not about claiming infallibility or divine sanction for every decision. "When you lead," he said, "you must lead with shura, with consultation. You must listen to criticism. You must admit when you are wrong. You must never say, 'I am implementing Islam,' when what you are really doing is implementing your own will, your own understanding, your own political calculations. Islam is vast. It is deep. It contains wisdom that no single person can fully grasp. Beware of thinking that your interpretation is the only valid one."
This warning was crucial for me because in the euphoria of revolution, in the passion of anti-imperialist struggle, it is easy to see oneself as a divinely appointed instrument. The prophet, peace be upon him, was reminding me that while our cause may be just, while our intentions may be sincere, we are still fallible human beings who must constantly examine ourselves, accept criticism, and remain humble before Allah.
The fifth warning concerned our treatment of non-Muslims. He said, "Do not use Islam as a weapon against those who do not share your faith. Do not forget that I protected the Christians of Najran, that I had Jewish neighbors in Medina, that I commanded my followers to be just and kind to those who do not fight against you because of your religion." The prophet, peace be upon him, reminded me of the Constitution of Medina, that first social contract that guaranteed rights to all inhabitants of the city, regardless of their faith. He reminded me of his letter to the monks of Saint Catherine's Monastery, promising protection to Christians. He reminded me that he attended the funeral of a Jewish neighbor, that he stood in respect when a Jewish funeral procession passed by. "My message," he said, "was for all of humanity, and my mercy encompassed all of creation. How then can anyone claim to follow me while showing cruelty to others simply because they worship differently? Yes, there will be times of conflict. Yes, there will be those who seek to destroy you because of your faith. And against such enemies, you must defend yourselves. But defensive struggle is not the same as hatred for all who differ from you. Justice and kindness must be your default, not suspicion and hostility."
The sixth and final warning was perhaps the most personal. He said to me, "Ibrahima, do not neglect your own soul in the pursuit of worldly goals, even if those goals seem Islamic. Do not forget to pray with presence, to read the Quran with reflection, to remember death, to prepare for your meeting with Allah. Do not let leadership make you arrogant. Do not let power corrupt your heart." He reminded me that he was the most humble of people, despite being the greatest of creation. He mended his own clothes. He served his family. He sat on the ground. He ate simple food. He told me that on the Day of Judgment, I would not be asked about how much territory I controlled, or how many enemies I defeated, or how powerful my nation became. I would be asked about my prayers, about my honesty, about my justice, about whether I fed the hungry, whether I protected the orphans, whether I was true to my word.
My dear brothers and sisters, when I awoke from this vision, I was crying. I was crying from the weight of responsibility, from the beauty of having been in the presence of the prophet, peace be upon him, and from the realization of how easy it is to go astray, even with the best of intentions. I share this with you today not to claim any special status. I am not a prophet. I am not a saint. I am simply a servant of Allah and a servant of the people of Burkina Faso. I share this because I believe the warnings given to me are warnings for all of us who claim to follow Islam, especially those of us in positions of leadership and authority.
We live in a time when Islam is under attack from outside, from those who caricature it, who fear it, who seek to destroy it. But we also live in a time when Islam is being distorted from within, by those who use it for political gain, by those who make it a religion of harshness and division, by those who claim to speak for Allah while violating every principle of mercy and justice that the prophet, peace be upon him, taught.
I make a commitment to you today, before Allah and before history. I will strive to lead in accordance with these warnings. I will not use Islam to divide us. I will not use Islam to oppress women. I will not use Islam to justify cruelty. I will not become intoxicated with power. I will not use Islam as a weapon against those who worship differently. And I will not neglect my own soul's preparation for the meeting with my Creator.
I call upon all Muslim leaders across Africa and across the world to reflect on these principles. I call upon all of us to return to the true spirit of Islam, the spirit of mercy, of justice, of consultation, of humility, of compassion for all of Allah's creation. May Allah guide us all on the straight path. May He forgive our shortcomings and accept our sincere efforts. May He protect Burkina Faso and all lands where Muslims strive for justice and dignity. And may He grant us the intercession of His beloved prophet on the day when we will all stand before Him to account for how we lived and how we led. I thank you for listening and I ask for your prayers and your constructive criticism as we build a nation that honors the true teachings of Islam while respecting the dignity of all people.