I never saw my mother as an entrepreneur.
Growing up in Zimbabwe, she was simply “Mai Laura” – Laura’s mother. She was a steady presence during my childhood, somehow managing to keep our home running even during the most turbulent times.
It wasn’t until her funeral in 2021 that I began to understand the full scope of who she was.
As people shared their stories, a new picture emerged:
- The woman who started a jersey design business from our living room.
- Who later ran a small tuckshop, navigating complex supplier relationships and currency fluctuations with quiet determination.
- Who turned to farming during Zimbabwe’s economic crisis, selling excess produce near and far.
She never talked about these ventures when we spoke.
Our conversations focused on my life, my work, my dreams.
Even as I built businesses in Malaysia, she remained more interested in hearing about my journey than sharing her own.
This week holds a tangle of memories. My mother’s birthday falls on January 20th – the same day America welcomes its next president.
As I watch global conversations about leadership and age, about experience and innovation, I find myself thinking about the lessons written in the margins of my mother’s life.
She never gave me direct business advice. Yet in the stories others shared after she passed, I see now how she embodied fundamental truths about leadership:
Innovation born of necessity. When the economy crashed, she didn’t give lectures about entrepreneurship – she planted vegetables. Her “startup funding” was seeds and determination.
Quiet impact over loud influence. Her business acumen centred around creating everyday value and making people feel seen and valued. Customers became friends who still speak of her kindness years later.
Legacy through lives touched. Her success metrics weren’t revenue or scale, but the number of people who could feed their families because she helped them learn a trade.
As I observe today’s global leadership landscape – from America’s aging presidents to Zimbabwe’s political dynamics – I see complex patterns around power, wisdom, and change. Some cultures revere age and experience above all; others chase innovation and youth. Each approach carries its own wisdom and blindspots.
But perhaps the most profound lessons come from those who never set out to teach us at all. The ones who simply lived their values, day after day, leaving traces of wisdom we only recognize years later.
My mother never ran a nation or built a corporate empire. She probably wouldn’t have called herself an entrepreneur or leader.
Yet her quiet legacy – of resilience, of serving others, of finding opportunities in challenges – offers insights for anyone building something meaningful.
This week, as one American president steps down and another steps up, as we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy of vision and courage, I’ve found myself thinking about these different forms of leadership.
About how wisdom sometimes whispers. About the teachers who never know they’re teaching.
What silent lessons surround you? What wisdom might you be missing in unexpected places? Who in your life embodies truths about leadership that transcend age, culture, or circumstance?
Perhaps true legacy isn’t about position or power at all. Perhaps it lives in the small choices we make each day, the lives we touch without fanfare, the seeds we plant without knowing if we’ll see them grow.
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