Life. Seasoned with perspective.
“Growth often happens quietly, long before it becomes visible. This piece reflects on patience, persistence, and trusting the process when progress feels slow but purpose remains clear.”
A story is often told about the Chinese bamboo tree. A farmer plants a tiny bamboo seed in the soil. He waters it faithfully, adds fertilizer, shields it from harsh weather, and makes sure it gets just the right amount of sunlight.
Then something strange happens.
The first year, nothing breaks the surface. No sprout. No leaf. No sign of life. The second year comes and still nothing. The third year passes and the ground remains bare. The fourth year arrives and again, silence. No growth. No evidence that anything is happening beneath the soil. Be honest, how many of us would still be showing up at that point?
Here is the twist. In the fifth year, the bamboo tree shoots up almost overnight. In just six weeks, it grows to nearly twenty-five meters tall. What looked like nothing for four years was actually everything. Beneath the ground, the bamboo had been building a deep, strong, unshakeable root system capable of supporting that sudden, explosive growth.
The lesson is simple but uncomfortable. Growth does not always look like progress.
This story hits close to home for me. Some years back, I visited Marimanti in Tharaka Nithi and fell in love with the tree species at a hotel where I was staying. As is my habit, I asked for seedlings and carried them home. I planted them with optimism and big expectations. Five years later, those trees are still not knee-high. Every time I pass by them, I ask myself if they are doing anything at all. Maybe they are. Maybe I just cannot see it yet.
Patience is a strange thing. We all admire it in theory, but struggle with it in practice.
Recently, my daughters were taught about the fruits of the Holy Spirit at Sunday school. They excitedly listed them for me, all nine. Love. Joy. Peace. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control. My mind, however, got stuck on one word. Patience.
I will say this without sugar-coating it. Patience has never been my strongest suit. For a long time, waiting felt like weakness. In leadership especially, I struggled. I would delegate a task, but the moment I sensed things were going off track, I would jump in and take control. It felt efficient. It felt responsible. But in truth, it robbed others of growth.
Healing came quietly. One day I realized I could allow the process to wobble a little without panicking. I could let someone struggle, think, adjust, and figure things out. I could trust the roots being built beneath the surface. That shift changed how I lead, how I parent, and how I relate to people.
Now for a slightly uncomfortable conversation.
There is a popular narrative that Gen Z is the most impatient generation ever. One evening at the office, I was chatting with a Gen Z friend as the day wound down. Out of nowhere she said, “I am tired of this job. By now I should own a house and a car.” I nearly choked. She had been working for thirteen months. Her first job. Big dreams are good, but dreams without timelines and context can become a source of frustration.
That said, this is not a Gen Z problem. It is a human problem. Social media has trained us to expect fast results, instant rewards, and overnight success. We see the highlight reels, not the four silent years underground. We celebrate the bamboo at twenty-five meters, not the patience it took to get there.
I work with young people. I teach them. I mentor them. Their mindset is different, yes. But their pressure is also different. The world moves faster. Comparisons are louder. Expectations are heavier. Still, the principle remains the same for all of us. Meaningful growth takes time.
I was reminded of this recently when I thought about my high school motto. It was written in Dholuo: Kinda piny emanyalo gimoro. Perseverance shall win through. For four straight years, those words were drilled into us. They were more than a slogan. They were preparation for life.
Whether it is your career, your relationships, your business idea, or your personal healing, clarity matters. Know what you want. Commit to it. Show up consistently. Some seasons will feel dry. Some years will feel like nothing is happening. That does not mean you are failing. It may mean you are growing roots.
The danger is quitting too early. Pulling out the seed before it has had time to build strength. Giving up because progress does not look dramatic enough.
The bamboo teaches us something powerful. Explosive growth is only possible when there is deep preparation. What you are becoming is often more important than what you are producing.
So if you feel stuck, unseen, or behind, pause before you panic. You might be exactly where you need to be. Trust the process. Keep watering. Keep showing up. Your season will come.
And when it does, the growth will speak for itself.
About the author:
Kibisu Mulanda is a media executive and strategic communicator with over 20 years of experience in television, NGO storytelling, and youth-focused content. He is the Acting Head of Switch Media Ltd and teaches media at the Kenya Institute of Mass Communication (KIMC). A Certified SIYB Trainer, he blends storytelling with strategy to drive social impact.
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