The Bonet Framework

The archives taught me that history doesn’t whisper; it echoes. And if you listen closely, you can hear it in the rustling of corn leaves, the sound of a market coin clinking and the silence of a field that is ready to be planted.

I used to think that strategy was something you wrote down in meetings. Now I know that it’s also born in kitchens, in family arguments, and in the quiet decision of someone to plant groundnuts instead of going after quick money. Because of this, I started to talk differently. Not louder, but clearer. I stopped asking people what they wanted to plant. I asked them what they wanted to leave behind. Not just for their kids, but also for the soil, the market, and the story.

I saw that each village had something to sell. But not all of the villages had a plan. And not every plan remembered. So, I started to mix memory with strategy. I told stories of countries that grew from grain and fell because of greed. I used irony to show how we act. I used the Bible to give us hope.

And gradually, things began to change. People stopped looking for quick fixes. They began to ask for systems. For stories. For tools that could last longer than their goals. That was when I knew the seed had grown.