The Generous Stranger

The Generous Stranger

BY: Ubaid

Based on a true account from the Abbasid era

During the second century of the Hijri calendar, there lived a nobleman named Ma’n ibn Zaida al-Shaybani, a man of remarkable courage and legendary generosity. His fame as a brave warrior and kind-hearted benefactor had spread across the Arab world. Poets sang of his valor, and the poor prayed for his long life, for he never turned away anyone who came to his door in need.

But even the most honored of men are not safe from the wrath of kings.

One day, the mighty Caliph Abu Ja’far al-Mansur became angry with Ma’n for reasons that history does not fully record. The Caliph ordered that Ma’n be captured and brought before him. Knowing the seriousness of the command, Ma’n realized that his life was in grave danger.

He went into hiding, moving from place to place, constantly looking over his shoulder. Every sound, every whisper of the wind made his heart race. “How long can I live like this?” he thought. “The Caliph’s men are everywhere.”

Finally, Ma’n decided to flee Baghdad altogether. Disguised in simple clothes and mounted on a camel, he rode quietly out of the city under the cover of dawn. The desert stretched endlessly before him — golden, silent, and full of uncertain hope.

He had not gone far when suddenly, from behind a cluster of rocks, a dark-skinned man appeared and seized the camel’s reins. With firm hands, he forced the animal to kneel and said sternly,

> “Get down! You’re coming with me.”



Startled, Ma’n demanded, “Who are you, and what do you mean by this?”

The man replied calmly, “Never mind who I am. What matters is who you are. You are Ma’n ibn Zaida, the man the Commander of the Faithful is seeking. The Caliph has promised a great reward to whoever captures you.”

Ma’n’s heart sank. “You are mistaken, my friend,” he said quickly. “I am not the man you think I am.”

The stranger smiled knowingly. “Do not try to deceive me. By Allah, I know your face well. And before others come and claim the reward for themselves, I intend to deliver you to the Caliph.”

Realizing that escape was impossible, Ma’n decided to appeal to the man’s greed instead of his loyalty. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a necklace of glittering jewels, each stone worth a fortune. Holding it out, he said softly,

> “Brother, take this. These gems are worth far more than whatever reward the Caliph promised. Spare my life, and you’ll have riches beyond measure.”



The man took the necklace, turning it over in his rough hands. The jewels sparkled in the sunlight, throwing tiny rainbows on the sand. After a moment’s silence, he said,

> “Indeed, this is a treasure. But I will decide whether to keep it or not only after you answer one question truthfully.”



Ma’n nodded. “Ask your question.”

The man looked straight into his eyes and asked,

> “It is said that your generosity is unmatched in all of Arabia. Tell me, have you ever given away all your wealth to someone in need?”



Ma’n hesitated and said, “No, not all of it.”

The man continued, “Half of it, then?”

Ma’n shook his head. “No.”

“A third, perhaps?”

“Not even that.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “A tenth?”

Ma’n thought for a moment and then said, “Yes, perhaps once or twice, I may have given away a tenth of what I owned.”

At that, the stranger smiled — a calm, confident smile. “Then listen carefully,” he said. “I work for the Caliph himself, as a simple servant. My salary is only twenty dirhams a month — barely enough to survive. Yet this priceless necklace you just offered me, worth thousands upon thousands of dirhams, I now give back to you.”

He tossed the necklace at Ma’n’s feet. “Take it,” he said. “Keep your life and your jewels. I wanted to show you that true generosity does not come from wealth. It comes from the heart. And even a poor man can outshine a rich one in giving.”

Then, without another word, he turned and began walking back toward the city.

Ma’n was astonished. His throat tightened with emotion. “Wait!” he called out. “You have shamed me with your kindness. Please, take the necklace — I give it to you freely, with all my heart.”

The man stopped and turned around, laughing softly. “You think you can win by out-giving me? By Allah, I will never touch that necklace again. I gave it to you for the sake of God, and once given, it is forbidden for me to take it back.”

With that, he waved farewell and disappeared into the horizon, leaving Ma’n standing speechless beside his camel.

Later, Ma’n ibn Zaida would recount this encounter many times, saying,

> “In all my life, I never met a man with such dignity, courage, and generosity — and he was but a poor servant earning twenty dirhams a month.”



It was a lesson that stayed with him forever. Wealth, he realized, was not the measure of generosity — the heart was. True greatness lies not in what one possesses, but in what one is willing to give up for the sake of principle.

And so, history remembers not only Ma’n ibn Zaida, the famous nobleman, but also the unknown servant, whose single act of selfless honor left even the greatest of men humbled.