Tawheeda Incidental Wealth

CHAPTER 2

Tee’s full name was Tawheeda, but everyone called her “Tee" a name that resonated with her as perfectly as the quiet melody of her life. Her parents had given her the name with care, knowing it meant someone studious, dependable, and hard-working. And as the years passed, Tee grew into a well-tended seed sprouting into a healthy plant.

At just sixteen, Tee already knew the importance of self-reliance. While most of her peers in Mombasa spent their weekends lounging and surfing the Internet. Tee derives pleasure from her little garden— the farmland behind her house where she grows corn, tomatoes, and peppers. It was small, but it was proudly hers.

Every morning before school, Tee would wake in the morning light, her hands moving with regular ease. She checked the sprouting leaves for pests, watered the soil, and plucked out weeds. The corn stalks tilted under the breeze, and the smell of ripening tomatoes always welcomed her like an old friend.

“I’m proud of you, Wamukota,” her left-handed father often told her, though Tee’s reply was always the same—a shy smile and a bow. She didn’t think much of praise; she just liked the fact that her family could put their trust in her.

After school, while her classmates are gathered for snacks or gossip, Tee would hurry home, drop her school bag inside the house, and change her uniform for comfortable clothes and sandals, before doing any assignment. The afternoon sun can sometimes be unforgiving, but Tee never complained. She dug her hands deep into the soil, feeling a connection to the earth and it soothed her soul.

The garden gave her a sense of control, something school sometimes lacked, as there were no extracurricular activities. In class, she excelled quietly, never drawing attention to herself, but at home, the garden was her paradise. She decided when to plant and when to harvest. She knew how to nurse withering plants back to life, and every time she pulled out a ripe tomato or a healthy ear of corn, it felt like a small win.

Tee's parents trell hers most of the time to take things easy. “You’re just a child, Tee,” her mother said one evening as Tee brought in a basket full of vegetables. "You shouldn’t carry the whole world on your shoulders."

“I know, Mama,” Tee answered softly, though deep down, she didn’t mind. It wasn’t about proving her worth. It was just who she was—a girl who found peace in responsibility, who liked knowing she could contribute to her family.

Sometimes, as Tee sat among her plants, she imagined a future where her garden was bigger—a farm, maybe. A place where she could grow enough to sell at the market and still have enough left to help feed her family and neighbors. The idea made her smile. She wasn’t just planting crops; she was planting dreams, row by row, season by season.

And though she didn’t say it out loud, Tee knew that what she was growing wasn’t just vegetables —it was building herself. Each plant symbolized her values: reliability, care, and a quiet determination for success.

At school, Tee's teachers often lauded her diligence. "You're going to be very great, Tawheeda," one teacher told her after she excelled in her exam. Tee only smiled again, thinking of the little corn plants waiting for her in the garden.

Her life wasn’t luxuriant, but it was stable, like the melody of planting and harvesting. She didn’t envy no one who sought excitement elsewhere, she knew that all she needed was in her hands, on the earth beneath her feet.

Tee’s journey was just beginning to unfold, she was already learning one of life’s most valuable lessons: hard work, no matter how small, always bears fruit. And in the quiet corners of her garden, confined by the vibrant green of pepper leaves and the promise of growing corn, Tee was building not just a future—but a life she would be proud of.