Storms and Seeds
566 Words
Part One: Cracks in the Wall
The boardroom at Nassor Group’s new satellite office in Cape Town echoed with tension. Charts glowed on the screen, showing sharp revenue drops in three regions. A cyberattack had crippled their logistics AI for forty-eight hours long enough to draw attention from regulators and foreign stakeholders.
Ayaan stood with his arms crossed. “Whoever did this knew our architecture. This wasn’t just a breach. It was a message.”
Neema glanced up from her laptop. “A calculated one. And it originated from inside South Africa.”
Zuwena’s voice was sharp. “Bring in Rakesh and Fatima. We’ll need forensics and policy backup. And lock down cross-border access to our core servers.”
As the meeting ended, Zuwena paused in the hallway. A text lit up her phone.
Unknown number: You think you’re untouchable. But your roots are showing.
She looked around. Was it a threat or a clue?
That evening, she sat alone in her hotel suite. On the table was a small envelope. No markings. Just a wax seal with an old crest she hadn’t seen in years her grandfather’s.
Inside was a single photo: her parents and a man she had never seen before. Behind them, a building with a plaque reading “DEREZA INSTITUTE FOR CIVIC LEADERSHIP – 1989.”
A forgotten project. A hidden foundation.
Part Two: Echoes of Power
In Nairobi, a private security briefing revealed an unsettling truth three of Nassor Group’s former interns had been recruited by Tesfaye Analytics, now suspected of espionage and market sabotage.
Ayaan gritted his teeth. “They used our mentorship as a Trojan horse.”
It’s not just betrayal, Neema said. It’s strategy. Elene is rewriting the rules of engagement.
Meanwhile, Zuwena took a solo flight to Kigoma a quiet visit, disguised as personal leave. She arrived at an old compound by Lake Tanganyika, where records from her family’s civic institute were once stored.
An elderly caretaker met her. “Your grandfather always said ‘Leadership is a forest. Many enter for shade. Few plant trees.’”
Inside the archives, she found blueprints. Not of buildings but of ideas. Training modules. Partnership plans with forgotten grassroots leaders across Africa.
The institute had once been pan-African, decades before it was fashionable.
She made a decision.
“We’re not just defending a company anymore,” she told Ayaan later. “We’re reviving a movement.”
Part Three: Planting the Future
Back in Dar, Zuwena and Ayaan announced the launch of The Dereza Civic Fellowship a leadership initiative focused on training ethical innovators, community organizers, and technocrats across Africa.
The announcement trended for days.
Critics claimed it was a PR distraction. Supporters called it visionary. But what mattered was who showed up young leaders from 17 countries, ready to learn, question, and build.
One fellow asked Zuwena, “What if we fail?”
She smiled. “Then you fail forward. That’s the only kind of failure we recognize.”
Elene Tesfaye wasn’t silent. She launched her own competing program better funded, more glamorous, and backed by foreign investors.
But Zuwena knew something money couldn’t buy: authenticity.
At the fellowship’s opening ceremony, Zuwena held her mother’s old journal.
“She wrote this when I was five. ‘A leader’s job is not to shine, but to spark light in others.’ So today, we pass the flame.”
Applause rang. Hope ignited.
- Writer
