I have lived long enough to learn a simple but stubborn truth: help comes to those who have already begun. People may speak warmly, they may promise the world, they may tell you, “Let me know how I can support you.” But real support—financial, emotional, moral, or even spiritual—rarely arrives when you are simply thinking or dreaming about starting something. It comes when you are already sweating, already digging, already carrying the burden on your own back.
There is a world of difference between saying, “Give me money to start a business,” and saying, “Give me money to boost my business.” I have watched how the same people who ignore someone dreaming loudly will suddenly pay attention the moment that person begins to act quietly. You cannot sit with an empty field and expect harvesters to volunteer themselves. People want to see movement. They want to see that you have skin in the game.
Sometimes, it is better to say, “Support me to buy more chicks,” rather than “Support me to buy my first chick.” The first statement sounds like someone with momentum. The second sounds like someone waiting to be pushed. There is something about a person who has already invested—even if it is small, even if it is humble, even if it looks like nothing compared to others—that attracts support. People trust the one who shows initiative. They trust the one who shows they are willing to start with whatever they have.
In one of my books, I wrote, “God amplifies crawling feet, not static ones.” And I meant every word. Even heaven looks for action. Even God waits for movement. When I take one small step, when I begin with my little resources and trembling hands, somehow doors begin to open. I do not understand how it works, but I have seen God amplify what I have already dared to do. But if I sit idle, waiting for a perfect beginning, nothing moves—not even my own heart.
And honestly, this principle is everywhere around us. Even support groups do not fund things that are not operational. They want to see a system already running. Banks are the same. A bank will not hand you money simply because you have a dream. They will ask for projections, collateral, statements, evidence of activity. They want proof that you are not giving them a fantasy. They want to see that you believe in your own idea enough to have started with whatever is in your hand.
In my language, we say, Ciakorire wacu mugunda —meaning, she was tilling her land. No one comes to help someone who is sitting in the house claiming they will one day plant a field. No one offers a hand to a person lying under a tree saying, “I will start farming next month.” But the moment they see you with a hoe in your hand, your back bent, sweat on your forehead—that is when encouragement and assistance begin to flow. People help the one who is already helping himself.
I speak all this as someone who has experienced both sides—waiting for support that never came, and moving ahead with the little I had. Every time I waited, I was disappointed. Every time I moved ahead, I was helped. Sometimes the help came from unexpected places, strangers even—but it came. And it came because I was already in motion.
So today, whenever I think of starting something, I remind myself: Start with what you have. Start small. Start imperfect. Start trembling. But start. Because movement attracts support, and idleness repels it. Life respects action. Even God seems to respect action. And the world, as harsh as it can be, rewards those who take that first lonely step.
In the end, no one cares about your unstarted dream. But everyone respects the courage of a beginning. And once you begin, the universe has a strange way of swinging its doors open—just enough for you to pass through.
There is a world of difference between saying, “Give me money to start a business,” and saying, “Give me money to boost my business.” I have watched how the same people who ignore someone dreaming loudly will suddenly pay attention the moment that person begins to act quietly. You cannot sit with an empty field and expect harvesters to volunteer themselves. People want to see movement. They want to see that you have skin in the game.
Sometimes, it is better to say, “Support me to buy more chicks,” rather than “Support me to buy my first chick.” The first statement sounds like someone with momentum. The second sounds like someone waiting to be pushed. There is something about a person who has already invested—even if it is small, even if it is humble, even if it looks like nothing compared to others—that attracts support. People trust the one who shows initiative. They trust the one who shows they are willing to start with whatever they have.
In one of my books, I wrote, “God amplifies crawling feet, not static ones.” And I meant every word. Even heaven looks for action. Even God waits for movement. When I take one small step, when I begin with my little resources and trembling hands, somehow doors begin to open. I do not understand how it works, but I have seen God amplify what I have already dared to do. But if I sit idle, waiting for a perfect beginning, nothing moves—not even my own heart.
And honestly, this principle is everywhere around us. Even support groups do not fund things that are not operational. They want to see a system already running. Banks are the same. A bank will not hand you money simply because you have a dream. They will ask for projections, collateral, statements, evidence of activity. They want proof that you are not giving them a fantasy. They want to see that you believe in your own idea enough to have started with whatever is in your hand.
In my language, we say, Ciakorire wacu mugunda —meaning, she was tilling her land. No one comes to help someone who is sitting in the house claiming they will one day plant a field. No one offers a hand to a person lying under a tree saying, “I will start farming next month.” But the moment they see you with a hoe in your hand, your back bent, sweat on your forehead—that is when encouragement and assistance begin to flow. People help the one who is already helping himself.
I speak all this as someone who has experienced both sides—waiting for support that never came, and moving ahead with the little I had. Every time I waited, I was disappointed. Every time I moved ahead, I was helped. Sometimes the help came from unexpected places, strangers even—but it came. And it came because I was already in motion.
So today, whenever I think of starting something, I remind myself: Start with what you have. Start small. Start imperfect. Start trembling. But start. Because movement attracts support, and idleness repels it. Life respects action. Even God seems to respect action. And the world, as harsh as it can be, rewards those who take that first lonely step.
In the end, no one cares about your unstarted dream. But everyone respects the courage of a beginning. And once you begin, the universe has a strange way of swinging its doors open—just enough for you to pass through.
