The following week unfolded with a quiet urgency that Jamila could feel in every corner of the house. Her father left earlier than usual, returning later with lines of worry etched deeper into his face. Her mother spent longer hours at the market, sometimes coming home with unsold cloth folded carefully in her bag, as though determination alone could turn it into profit. Even Fatima's calls became shorter, squeezed between lectures and work shifts.
Jamila watched it all, feeling the pull to do something—anything—to help.
One afternoon, as she waited for her mother at the stall, Jamila noticed a group of women admiring a patterned fabric but hesitating at the price. She listened closely as they discussed school uniforms, ceremonies, and celebrations. A thought formed slowly, cautiously.
"Mama," Jamila said later, "what if we sell smaller pieces? For head ties or children's clothes?"
Binta looked at her, surprised. Then she smiled, the kind of smile that comes from seeing potential bloom where it wasn't expected. "That might work," she said. "You've been paying attention."
The next market day, they tried it. The response was better than expected. Customers who couldn't afford large pieces bought smaller ones, and some even returned for more. It wasn't a solution to everything, but it was progress.
At school, Jamila found herself thinking differently too. She spoke up in class, volunteered to help organize group work, and even assisted a struggling classmate. Her teacher noticed. "You have leadership in you," she said one afternoon. The words stayed with Jamila, settling deep inside her.
That evening, Jamila helped her father sort through school records. As they worked, he explained how difficult it was to keep teachers paid while waiting for fees. Jamila listened, understanding that leadership wasn't about having all the answers—it was about showing up every day despite uncertainty.
When Fatima called that night, Jamila shared her small success at the market. Fatima laughed softly, pride clear in her voice. "You see?" she said. "We all have a part to play."
As Jamila lay in bed later, she realized something important. She couldn't carry the family the way Fatima did, or lead like her father, or negotiate like her mother—but she didn't have to.
Her role was forming, shaped by observation, courage, and care.
And for the first time, Jamila wasn't just witnessing her family's struggle.
She was part of th
e solution.