Growth grows in the quiet

 Growth Grows in the Quiet  

Hello, my friend,

I’m Dr. CPA Ismael Mbuvi—formerly Assistant Accountant General at Kenya’s National Treasury, spending my days in Nairobi offices ensuring public funds served the people. Today, after retirement, I split my time between my private financial consultancy and my small farm in Malindi, where I grow cassava and coconuts, and raise my five goats: Pendo (Love), Bahati (Luck), Baraka (Blessing), Amani (Peace), and Umoja (Unity).  

And if you’re reading this, chances are you’ve been feeling like time has stood still—like every effort you make falls like cold rain on dry, cracked earth… with no flowers, no fruit, no visible sign of change.  

But here’s what I’ve learned, kneeling in red soil and balancing ledgers alike:

Growth grows in the quiet.

 Example One: Real Growth Happens in Stillness—Not Hustle  

Last year, a businessman from Mombasa—running a small snack stall—lost all his customers overnight due to sudden regulatory changes. He was devastated. He told his neighbors: “I can’t even raise my hand in confidence anymore.”

He called me. I didn’t have a magic fix. I simply asked:  

 “What are you trying to reach?”  

He said: “I want my business back like it used to be.”

I asked: “But what are you willing to lose?”

He didn’t know.  

For two months, he paused. He made a list of what he’d already lost: inner peace, time with his children, trust in his own skills.  

Instead of trying to “save” himself, he began doing small things:  

- Listening to customers without immediately offering solutions  

- Selling snacks at lower prices to village elders who couldn’t afford much  

- Teaching local college students about entrepreneurship  

His business hasn’t soared to past heights—but now it has soul.  

This is growth growing in the quiet.

 Example Two: My Farm, My Teacher  

Last year, I planted cassava on my Malindi farm with great enthusiasm. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., I was outside, working like I was back in government service—disciplined, urgent, results-driven.  

But the rains didn’t come for two months. All my crops dried up.  

I sat in my house for three days—barely eating, feeling like a failure.  

On the fourth day, my Giriama neighbor, Mama Zuhura, came with a cup of tea. She didn’t say “sorry.” She simply asked:  

 “Where do you think rain comes from?”  

I said: “From the sky.” 

She replied: “No! It comes from below—from the soil that knows how to hold moisture.”

Then she shared a proverb her mother taught her:  

“Rain doesn’t waste itself—it knows where to fall.” 

She said: “Instead of mourning the crops that died, let’s prepare your land to catch the next rain.”

We built small contour trenches to trap water. We added organic compost. We prayed for rain—not just with words, but with readiness.  

When the rains finally came, my farm yielded three times more than the previous year.  

That’s when I understood: growth grows in the quiet—underground, unseen, faithful.

 Growth Isn’t a Sprint—It’s Like Fishing in the Ocean  

There’s a Swahili saying:  

“He who wasn’t taught by his mother will be taught by the world.”

But I’ll add this: Even those taught by their mothers must be re-taught by life—because life has no fixed syllabus.

You might be:  

- A worker who lost your job and is now learning Excel to manage a small shop  

- A mother with two children, farming a tiny plot in Mwingi just to pay school fees  

- A retiree watching your savings shrink, yet still telling your loved ones, “Have hope”  

You don’t need to prove you’re “growing.”

Real growth is:  

- Sitting in silence without feeling like you’ve failed  

- Saying “I don’t know” without feeling weak  

- Giving someone your time—even when your money is running low  

- Trusting that everything you’ve lost made space for something new  

All of it—done quietly, faithfully—is growth growing in the quiet.

 In My Own Words, as a Man Who’s Lived a Few Seasons  

My years at the Treasury were powerful—I loved public service. But today, when I eat food from my own soil, when I watch my goat Pendo graze happily, when I hear a client say they finally understand how to use money wisely…  

I feel I’ve closed one chapter—and opened another that teaches me to live with connection, not just calculation.

And if you feel like time has stopped…  

…remember this:  

“A long day always ends with a deep well.”

You’ve lived long enough to know: everything unfolds in its own time.  

Because growth grows in the quiet.

With respect and warmth,

Dr. CPA Ismael Mbuvi

Former Assistant Accountant General | Now Financial Consultant & Small-Scale Farmer | Malindi 

🌿 P.S. I’d be honored to hear your story. What are you quietly tending to today—even if no one is handing you a certificate for it?Reply in English, Swahili, or your mother tongue. I’ll read every message like it’s from family.  

“A person is people.”

 Swahili Proverb  

“A man with a farm doesn’t just own soil—he holds hopes buried in the earth.”

> — Dr. CPA Ismael Mbuvi