Sunday 9 February 2025
Having never visited Tigray before, I had no idea what to expect when I travelled to this northernmost region of Ethiopia to visit the al-Najashi Mosque. My journey was driven by curiosity and reverence—a chance to connect with a place rich in ancient history and faith.
More than a place of worship, Najashi Mosque holds immense historical significance in the story of Islam and Ethiopia and is one of the oldest mosques in Africa. Established around 615 CE, it is believed to have been the destination of the first Islamic hijra (migration), where Prophet Muhammad’s (peace be upon him) companions sought refuge under the protection of the Ethiopian crown. The king at the time, widely referred to as Najashi, was actually called, Aṣ-ḥamah. Najashi or Negus was his title, in the same way that you called the head of the Iranian state Khosrow or the Roman leader, Caesar. Aṣ-ḥamah ruled the kingdom of Aksum in the northeastern part of the Horn of Africa between 614 to 630 CE.
When I arrived in Wukro, a city some 59 kilometres north of Mekelle, the capital of Tigray, I was struck by the serene dignity of the place. Surrounded by Wukro’s scenic landscapes, the mosque emanates a profound sense of history that words can barely capture. This place reflects Ethiopia’s deep spiritual connection to Islam and its broader significance in Islamic history. This is often overlooked due to Ethiopia's relationship with Orthodox Christianity, being the third political entity, after ancient Armenia and Rome, to embrace the faith.
Ethiopia also had complex ties with the Arabian Gulf. Around the time Prophet Muhammad was born, Aksum, a powerful state on the African shore of the Red Sea, occupied parts of Yemen. The viceroy of Ethiopia in Yemen, Abraha, even sacked the holy city of Mecca, intending to destroy the Ka’bah, then a polytheistic shrine of the pre-Islamic era, and shift its religious devotees to San’aa. The Elephant, a verse in the Quran, was revealed to address this invasion and its miraculous halt. A young group of Saudis traced his path in 2014, claiming to have found inscriptions along their route. Mohammed al-Amry told Arab News: “The army had passed the Arabian shield region comprising rocks and there were writings in the Humairiya language on some mountains.”
Around the time Prophet Muhammad was born, Aksum, a powerful state on the African shore of the Red Sea, occupied parts of Yemen.
When Prophet Muhammad began his prophecy, and started calling people to Islam his followers were persecuted and many, including his daughter, Ruqayyah, and her husband, and third Caliph of Islam, Uthman ibn ‘Affan settled in Ethiopia under his protection making Ethiopia the first place that Islam and Christianity came into sustained contact. Aṣ-ḥamah was regarded as a just king in Islamic tradition, believed to have lived quietly as a Muslim before his death. When Ubayd Allah ibn Jahsh, the husband of Umm Habibah converted to Christianity, Aṣ-ḥamah married her to Prophet Muhammad. Prophet Muhammad referred to him as a “pious man” and instructed his followers to perform a janazah prayer for him upon his death. His standing in Islam is significant, both as a high profile early convert and a great ally of the faith. His service to Islam is why the Prophet is believed to have said: “Leave the Ethiopians alone so long as they leave you alone…”. Aṣ-ḥamah was eventually buried in Wukro at the site of Najashi Mosque alongside 12 companions of the prophet.
Standing in a place so integral to Islamic history felt surreal. I couldn’t help but reflect on the rich legacy this site represents—a testament to faith, sanctuary, and resilience.
People have still been visiting the mosque despite the damage caused by the war. (Photo: Abdulrazaq Hassan)
The Najashi Mosque is not just a symbol of history but also of endurance. The devastating two-year conflict in Tigray, which began in late 2020, left the mosque severely damaged in November 2021. Europe External Programme with Africa, a Belgium-based organisation that aims to promote human rights in EU external engagements, said the mosque “was first bombed and later looted by Ethiopian and Eritrean troops”. It added: “Tigrayan sources are saying that people have died trying to protect the mosque.”
Local religious leaders also said that people were killed in the area. Ahmed Siraj of the International Association of Muslims in Tigray told Middle East Eye: “We have determined from our sources that a number of innocent people, including a father of four children, were killed by Eritrean soldiers simply for protesting against the mosque’s pillaging on 26 November”. Artefacts were also stolen from the mosque, according to the Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Council.
The Turkish Cooperation and Coordination Agency (TİKA) announced in July that it would restore the mosque after inspecting the damage. TİKA initially stepped in to renovate the mosque in 2015. At the time, Ismail Durhat, the organisation’s Ethiopia coordinator told Anadolu Agency: “We are delighted to have the opportunity to give this iconic Islamic monument the renovation it deserves.”
Fazıl Akın Erdoğan, TİKA’s Ethiopia lead in 2017, said the restoration efforts included a food court, a hall with a 500-person capacity, two 160-ton water depots, as well as an Ottoman architectural touch in the “marble, door, and window details of the mosque and tomb.” The project was eventually completed in 2018 with a view to promoting tourism in the region. The war eventually disrupted those plans.
Fazıl Akın Erdoğan, TİKA’s Ethiopia lead in 2017, said the restoration efforts included a food court, a hall with a 500-person capacity, two 160-ton water depots, as well as an Ottoman architectural touch in the “marble, door, and window details of the mosque and tomb.”
While these efforts are commendable, the challenges faced by the local community extend far beyond the physical restoration of the mosque.
During my visit, I had the honour of meeting Sheikh Yusuf of Masjid Najashi Qaadim. As we walked through the mosque’s grounds, he asked, “Are you Somali?” I smiled and replied: “Yes, why do you ask?” He grinned and said, “Because they are generous people.”
He then pointed to a large cemetery where the Najashi and the twelve companions of the Prophet are buried. The moment was poignant, bringing history vividly to life and showing me my spiritual forebears.
Curious about the mosque’s role in the local community, I asked Sheikh Yusuf about the area’s Muslim population. To my surprise, he said: “There are only about 200 Muslims in this area.” It was astonishing to realise that such an important monument exists and is the responsibility of such a modest community.
Curious about the mosque’s role in the local community, I asked Sheikh Yusuf about the area’s Muslim population. To my surprise, he said: “There are only about 200 Muslims in this area.”
When I inquired about external support, Sheikh Yusuf shared a sobering reality. “We receive very little assistance,” he said. “The last significant help we had was from the Ethiopian Islamic Council, who brought us some food. Since then, we’ve had almost nothing.”
Over coffee, I asked him about the community’s pressing needs. “Yes, we need more help,” he said bluntly. His words stayed with me as I continued my visit.
The shelling caused damage to the Najashi Mosque’s interior. (Photo: TİKA)
During my stay at the mosque, I also met other members of the community, like Yusuf, a young boy whose story embodies the struggles of the local people. Yusuf’s father was killed during the 2020 conflict, and his mother migrated to Saudi Arabia in search of work. Now, he lives at the mosque, relying on the kindness of locals for his survival.
Yusuf’s story is one of many. It underscores the harsh realities faced by those living in the shadow of this historic mosque. Their resilience is inspiring, but their needs are undeniable, and their neglect saddening.
Visiting Najashi Mosque was more than a historical journey for me; it was a deeply personal experience. This sacred site is a monument to Islam’s deep roots in Ethiopia, but it is also a reminder of the challenges that persist in the region. The restoration project is vital, but the well-being of the community deserves equal attention.
The restoration project is vital, but the well-being of the community deserves equal attention.
Najashi Mosque is not just a historical landmark; it is a living part of Ethiopia’s and Africa’s Islamic legacy. In seniority it only has one peer in the region, Zeila’s Masjid al-Qiblatayn, which is believed to be the second oldest mosque in Africa. It represents the early days of Islam, the spirit of coexistence and solidarity, and the strength of faith. Yet for the people who call this area home, it is also a daily reality marked by struggle.
As I left Najashi Mosque, I felt a profound sense of responsibility. Restoring this sacred place is a noble effort, but it must be accompanied by initiatives that uplift the community around it. From sustainable development projects to financial aid, there is much more that can be done.
My first visit to Tigray and the Najashi Mosque left a mark on me. Preserving history is about more than restoring buildings; it’s about honouring the people and stories that give that history meaning. The resilience of this community deserves not just admiration but meaningful solidarity.