Tawheeda Incidental Wealth

Tee squatted in the shade of the cassava plants; the earthy smell of soil filled her nose as she pulled weeds from the ground. The sun hung idly over Mombasa, casting a golden shimmer over the farmland. She smiled at herself, lost in her favorite daydream—the one she had cherished since she was a little girl. In her mind’s eye, she was on the veranda of a grand palace, her brown skin radiating under the moonlight. A royal guard opened the regal doors, and in walked her charming prince, a tall, handsome, dashing, with a warm smile specially for her. They could almost hear the soft music playing underground as they danced under the stars. His arms around her tiny waist, his whispered promises of eternity. Suddenly, sharp wails perforated the air, bringing her back to reality. She sighed. Her twin nieces, Cassie and Cassia who are 5 years old, were at it again—one of their many shouting episodes disguised as cries. “Not again,” Tee mumbled, brushing the dirt off her hands. She stood, warming up her back and wiping sweat from her face. The girls were sitting on a mat under a mango tree close to her, their tiny faces swollen from crying. Tee rushed over and knelt between them. “What now, you two?” Cassie inhaled dramatically. “She said my doll looks unkept and ugly!” Cassia crossed her arms boldly. “It is ugly.” Tee exhaled, her earlier illusion now far away, buried under the weight of babysitting. She understood these arguments well, though small yet endless, and as much as she loved them, taking care of the twins was very exhausting. Their mother, “Taima”, who is her older sister, had gone to sell in the market and left them in Tee’s care, a common occurrence now that she had just moved back to the village after the twins' father abandoned her. Tee hugged them both into her arms and kissed their soft cheeks. "Listen, little angels," she said, "how about instead of fighting over dolls and toys, we make up a story together?" The twins were so excited about the idea. Tee smiled, grateful for their short attention at least. And so, the three of them narrated a new tale—a prince, just like in Tee's daydreams, but this time the prince needed help from two wise little girls to find his lost crown. They chuckled as they pictured wild animals and enchanted rivers, all the barriers the prince had to cross with their help. As the story unfolded, Tee felt warm-hearted. It wasn’t the grand dream of romance she had always pictured, but it was real—messy, loud, and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps, she thought, not all dreams have to look the way we expect them to be. And maybe, just maybe, there was a different kind of charming prince waiting for her—one who didn’t ride on a beautiful white horse but one who showed up in small, daily moments, like the sound of laughter under a mango tree.