Kunle The Seed

Eyin temi,

How have you been?

No, really.

How are you doing?

We are already in the 8th month of 2026, and I would genuinely love to hear from you. How has the year been for you? What has it looked like behind the pictures, the achievements, the smiles, and the “God did it again” posts?

Because, if we are being honest, life has a way of looking very different from the inside.

2026 has been very stretchy for me.

At some point, I resisted the stretching because, quite frankly, I did not think I was mentally prepared for everything that was being required of me.

But as I progressed, I began to realise something.

Perhaps this was not an overwhelming problem after all.

Perhaps it was simply a problem that required wisdom—wisdom to manage my time, my resources, my responsibilities, and even the people around me.

And as light came, so did sense.

Sometimes, what feels like chaos is simply an invitation to learn a new way of managing what God has placed in our hands.

But there is another part of growth that I think we don't talk about enough.

Waiting.

Let's be honest.

Waiting is not sweet.

People can package it spiritually and say, “Trust the process.”

And yes, we should trust the process.

But when you are the one inside the process, it can sometimes feel like punishment wearing perfume.

Especially when everybody else seems to be moving.

Your friend is getting promoted.

Another person is buying land.

Someone is getting married.

Someone else is relocating while you are still wondering when you will finally see your own JAPA testimony.

Another person just posted:

“God did it again!”

And you are somewhere quietly asking:

“Lord, please… when will You do my own again?”

And that brings me to Kunle.

A brilliant young man.

Focused.

Disciplined.

Respectful.

The kind of person parents use as an example when they want to oppress their children.

“Look at Kunle. Does he have two heads?”😂

But life has a way of humbling even the most prepared people.

After university, Kunle expected things to move quickly.

Good job.

Good salary.

Good car.

Good apartment.

Good life.

Nothing too dramatic.

Just some normal “I have arrived” evidence.

Not necessarily an “I pass my neighbour” kind of thing. 😄

But after graduation, the doors refused to open.

He applied everywhere.

Banks.

Tech companies.

Consulting firms.

Government Agencies.

Even places he did not fully understand.

At one point, he applied for a role that required five years of experience managing underwater logistics.

Kunle had never even managed a swimming pool.

But joblessness can make a man bold. 😂

Months passed.

Then one year.

Then two.

His friends were moving ahead.

LinkedIn became a dangerous place.

Every post looked like a personal attack.

You know the ones:

“I am delighted to announce…”

That particular style of subtly oppression. 😂

Kunle was no longer delighted about anybody's announcement.

He started feeling invisible.

Forgotten.

Buried.

Then one afternoon, he visited his grandmother in the village.

She was behind the house, planting seeds.

Kunle watched as she placed tiny seeds into the soil and carefully covered them with earth.

He smiled.

“Mama, just like that? You buried them?”

His grandmother looked at him and laughed.

“I did not bury them. I planted them.”

Kunle shrugged.

“It looks the same.”

Then she said something that stayed with him.

“To the eye, planting and burying may look alike. But one is for ending. The other is for beginning.”

Ah.

That sentence entered Kunle's chest and sat down.

Planting and burying may look alike.

But they are not the same.

For months, Kunle had thought life had buried him.

But what if life was planting him?

What if the silence was not abandonment?

What if the hidden season was developing roots?

His grandmother continued:

“When a seed is under the ground, it may think nothing is happening. But that is where the most important work begins. Roots first. Fruits later.”

And something shifted in Kunle.

He returned home with a different mindset.

He stopped waiting passively.

He started learning.

He took online courses.

He volunteered.

He improved his CV.

He practised interviews.

He helped small businesses set up simple systems.

At first, nobody clapped.

Nobody noticed.

There was no big announcement.

No congratulations.

No applause.

Just quiet growth.

Then one day, a business owner he had helped recommended him for a role.

That role opened another door.

Then another.

And another.

Years later, Kunle looked back and realised something profound.

The season he hated most had built the very things he needed for the doors that eventually opened:

Skill.

Humility.

Discipline.

Wisdom.

Patience.

Resilience.

He was not forgotten.

He was being formed.

Are You in a Soil Season?

How many of us are currently in soil seasons?

No visibility.

No applause.

No evidence.

Just darkness, pressure and silence.

You are doing your best, but it feels like nothing is growing.

You are praying.

Planning.

Applying.

Building.

Learning.

Showing up.

Yet the surface still looks empty.

And because you cannot see anything happening, you begin to assume that nothing is happening.

But please remember this:

The ground is not always a grave. Sometimes, it is a garden.

Roots do not make noise.

They grow quietly.

They grow downward before anything grows upward.

So, if you are in a hidden season, please don't rush to conclude that nothing is happening.

Maybe your roots are stretching.

Maybe your strength is deepening.

Maybe your wisdom is increasing.

Maybe your character is being prepared for the weight of your future fruit.

Because fruit without roots is simply a disaster waiting for the wind.

And perhaps that is why some things take longer than we would like.

God is not merely interested in giving us fruit.

He is also interested in giving us roots strong enough to sustain the fruit.

Kunle eventually bloomed.

Not overnight.

Not magically.

But steadily.

And when his fruit came, it lasted.

It was not just something that looked good for a season.

It was real.

It was personal.

It was permanent.

It did not need a LinkedIn announcement to make it legitimate.

So, my dearests, if life feels quiet right now, breathe.

Take a moment.

Look around.

And perhaps, instead of asking only,

“Why am I still here?”

ask yourself,

“What is this season growing in me?”

Keep growing.

Keep learning.

Keep showing up.

Keep preparing.

Keep trusting.

And please— do not despise the soil.

The same place that looks like burial may be the very place where your becoming begins.

Because growth is not always visible.

You are not buried.

You may be planted.

One is the end.

The other is the beginning.

p.s: A very special shoutout to Mr Niyi for collaborating with me for this weekend’s story!

With abundance of love, Always 💛

Mary-Anne Egwunyenga

Honorable Minister of Enjoyment & Overflow (HMEO)