Speeches by Nduati

I remember a hike through a bamboo forest in Kenya’s Aberdare Range. It began on a cool, bright morning—walking on a carpet of fallen bamboo leaves, shaded beneath a canopy of ancient trees. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath our boots, birdsong, and the occasional creaks or snaps of bamboo. It felt otherworldly to be so completely removed from the city and its noise.

By afternoon, however, the sky darkened, and heavy rain soaked us to the skin. The forest floor turned to mud, and each step squelched as we trudged the final 12 kilometers through rain and cold to complete that 36-kilometer trek. All I could think about was dropping my backpack, changing into dry clothes, and sipping a hot cup of cocoa.

At a forest ranger’s station at the end of our hike, I recalled something a Navy SEAL once said: when we feel exhausted, it’s often our mind—not our body—that gives up first. We have hidden energy reserves we can call on even when we are completely fatigues. Standing there, soaked, tired, and aching, I was not convinced of this. Why would I take even one more step?

About a month ago, it felt like we had reached the “ranger’s station” of the Toastmasters year. After ten and a half months, leaders were ready to drop their responsibilities and change into the next phases of their lives and I couldn’t blame them. The annual conference, held in Addis Ababa, had brought a sense of closure. We danced late into the nights, held the final speech contests, and installed new leaders. As we hugged goodbye in the crisp cool air of the city, the year felt complete.

But it wasn’t.

We still had a month and a half to go. Important goals had yet to be achieved. Though the instinct was to stop, we needed to continue—continue reaching out to members, continue working toward finishing better than we started. My challenge was to convince our leaders and myself to tap into those hidden energy reserves. But where do those reserves come from?

When you think about it we see people tap into those reserves every day—but we miss it because it’s not dramatic.

Imagine a parent coming home after a long day of work; emotionally and physically drained. Yet this parent still finds the energy to play with their child or listen to their meandering stories. Where is that renewed energy from?

It’s from meaning.

To the parent, the meaning is they are building memories. The meaning is they are nurturing the child’s development. That meaning fuels their efforts.

When I look back at that rainy hike, I realize that if I had meaning—whether it was to save a life, earn a great reward, or gain a prestigious distinction—I would’ve found the strength to not drop my backpack, keep my wet cloths on, forget the hot cocoa and walk the 36 kilometers in the mud, cold, and rain back to the starting point of the hike. I would do it because every step I take would mean something.

That is extreme but the same principle applied a month ago. The question became: how would I infuse the final month and a half with enough meaning to motivate our leaders to keep going to the end of the Toastmasters year?

I formed a team and we started by brainstorming messages to send to the other leaders, but every idea we had left me thinking, “Why would anyone care about that?”

Then we stumbled upon it.

At the beginning of the year, we received a certain number of members. Wouldn’t it be right to ensure that our clubs ended the year with as many members as we started with?

Simple? Yes, but I knew we had a meaningful message when one of the team members lamented she would have performed her role with greater joy if she had thought of things in that perspective at the beginning of the year.

This meaning also helped provide meaningful work for that team of individuals who’s job was to help increase our membership numbers. To motivate them, I made each task clearly defined, with a tangible outcome. I gave regular progress updates, and emphasized what it meant to complete each task. That clarity gave their work momentum providing them with a sense of taking steps forward almost daily.

Every team project starts like a sunny morning hike— there is energy, optimism, and momentum. But as the journey continues, the skies can darken. Challenges emerge. Energy dips. The final stretch of the project can feel like a cold, rainy trek through mud.

In those moments, the meaning behind every step matters.

Every team member needs to know that their contribution connects to something bigger. When we help our team reconnect with why they started and why it still matters, we unlock their hidden reserves keeping them moving forward one step at a time.

That one extra step, one final push, one more completed task might just be what your team needs to succeed.