It was our second-to-last night in Medina before departing for Umrah in Mecca. Our travel agency, Busyra Holidays, arranged for us to have dinner at a fish restaurant outside the Nabawi Mosque area. We traveled there by bus, and the experience was quite exquisite.
While we were enjoying our meal, an 8-year-old boy approached us, selling bottles of juice made by his mother. What stood out was that he could speak Bahasa Melayu—a skill he had picked up on his own, knowing that many Malaysians often dined in the area. When we asked how he learned the language, he humbly replied, “YouTube.”
We were impressed, not just by his resourcefulness but also by his purpose. He was helping his mother by selling the juices. Throughout our brief conversation, he radiated innocence and humility. He barely made eye contact, which further emphasized his shy and modest demeanor.
Curious, I asked him his name. He said, “Nawwaf.”
At that moment, I turned to my husband, Pan, and said, “If we ever have a boy, let’s name him Nawwaf.” Pan agreed, on one condition: the first name must be Azmi to honor his family’s naming tradition.
Months later, when I was pregnant and found out Baby A was a boy, I began compiling a list of potential names—some suggested by others, and some that Pan and I liked. Among the shortlisted names were Iskandar, Qayyum, and Nawwaf.
Pan preferred classic names and even suggested Lekiu (inspired by Hang Lekiu from Melaka’s legend). However, we eventually dropped it since it lacked meaning. I initially leaned toward Qayyum because it is one of Allah’s 99 names, mentioned in powerful Quranic verses. But after Nawwaf came to mind, it began to overshadow the other options.
As the pregnancy progressed, I started calling Baby A by the shortlisted names. Interestingly, he only kicked when I said “Nawwaf.” After several occurrences, I shared this with Pan and told him my preference for Nawwaf over Qayyum. However, we decided to wait until he was born to make the final decision.
On 25 December 2024, after the C-section and during my post-recovery observation, I looked at our newborn—our second child—and knew in my heart that Nawwaf was the right name.
Later, I scrolled through my gallery, searching for the video of the young boy we met in Medina. That’s when I realized something extraordinary: we had met Nawwaf on 24 December at around 9 PM Medina time, which was 25 December at 2 AM in Malaysia. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Exactly one year before our second-born entered this world, Allah had placed the name Nawwaf in my heart through the encounter with this sweet boy in the heart of Medina. It felt predestined, and it felt right.
To honor this beautiful journey, we added a twist to the spelling—Nawwafh—to make it uniquely ours.
Azmi Nawwafh
Azmi (عزمي): Meaning “my determination” or “my resolve” in Arabic, symbolizing strength, willpower, and steadfastness.
Nawwafh (نواف): Meaning “lofty,” “high,” or “elevated,” reflecting nobility, distinction, and an elevated status.
Dear Nawwafh,
This is not just the story of how we chose your name—it is a reflection of Allah’s beautiful plan, the way He destined and placed this name in my heart just for you.
May you grow to embody the true essence and meaning of your name, a gift filled with love and faith.
With all my heart,
Mama.
