Part 2: A Muslim woman's vision of the second coming of Jesus

“Are you okay?” — When both Christians and Muslims rejected her and branded her a witch for crying during prayer. She tried telling Christians. They laughed. “Every day they say Jesus is coming.

He’s not coming.” She tried telling fellow Muslims. “Better keep quiet. They will say you want to convert.” She was stuck in the middle. “I don’t know where I belong,” she says.

Some Christians questioned her faith. “You are a Muslim. How can you have this dream?” She would answer calmly: “God knows I am a Muslim.

He did not tell me to change. He gave me a message.” But the more she spoke, the more she cried. If she heard preaching, she cried.

If she heard Islamic recitation, she cried. If she attended a meeting where people were praising God, she cried. Eventually, rumors began.

“She is a witch.” Because when others were singing praises, she would suddenly leave the room, go behind a building, cry, wipe her face, and return. One of her own group members confronted her. “Aunty Halima, they are saying you are a witch.”

She had no defense because the people she had told the truth to had not believed her either. The emotional weight began to show physically. She became pale. Withdrawn.

A doctor’s wife noticed. “You are sick, but you don’t know you are sick.” She was sent to the clinic in Osu. Twice she went.

Twice the doctor seemed to leave just as she arrived. Confused, she stood in the compound and prayed: “God, what is wrong with me?” Then she heard it again. “You have not done what I asked you to do.

That is why you are suffering.” That day she bought an envelope, a pen, and paper. She wrote the message in her “small English.” Headline: “Jesus Christ Is Coming Back Very Soon.” She signed it with another name.

She did not want anyone to know it was her. She sent it to the Chronicle newspaper. It was published. For a moment, she felt relief. But relief did not last.

Years passed. The message remained inside her like a heavy basket balanced on her head. She tried radio stations. Too expensive. She tried friends. “Are you okay?” they asked.

Even her adopted son who owned a radio station responded with concern, not support. “Mommy, are you sure you are okay?” She went to America and told her sister.

Her sister was the first person who supported her. “I will bring a camera. Say it. We’ll post it.” But something inside her said no. “The dream showed me I was speaking to the whole world. Not just one group.”

She refused invitations to speak at a single church conversion event. “I am still a Muslim,” she insisted. “God did not tell me to change.” And then the fear began.

She says she started seeing warnings — like daydreams. Threats. “If you come out, we will kill you.” She says she would see images of herself being harmed. Slaughtered. Attacked. Again and again. For years. Still, the message would not leave her.

Every time heavy rain fell, she would whisper: “God, is this the time?” Every strong wind made her heart jump. Every day — more than fifty times — the dream replayed in her mind.

For decades. She felt alone. Rejected by Christians. Silenced by Muslims. Misunderstood by friends. Questioned by family. Feared by members.

But the burden did not go away.

And now, she says, she is tired of carrying it alone.

To be continued…