If I were asked to name one book that has shaped how I think about purpose, journeys and destiny, it would be The Alchemist by Brazilian author Paulo Coelho.
At its surface, the novel tells the story of Santiago, a young shepherd boy from Andalusia, Spain, who journeys across deserts and continents in pursuit of a dream about a hidden treasure near the pyramids of Egypt.
Beneath that simple storyline, however, lies a deeper reflection on purpose, belonging and the human tendency to look far beyond ourselves for fulfilment.
Santiago’s journey is emotionally rich — filled with moments of loss, courage, doubt and renewal. He sells his sheep, crosses borders, learns new languages, works menial jobs and risks his life more than once. Yet at the height of his long and difficult quest, he discovers a truth that reframes everything — the treasure he had travelled thousands of miles to find was buried back home, exactly where he first dreamt about it.
What he was searching for in distant lands had always been within his reach.
I raise this realisation because it resonates far beyond the fictional story it may appear to be. It mirrors a familiar human pattern — the belief that success, happiness, or solutions lie somewhere else — in another country, another system, another life.
We are conditioned to think that flourishing always exists on ‘the other side’. The saying that “the grass is always greener on the other side” captures this instinct perfectly. Yet more often than we care to admit, the greener grass is the one we abandoned, undervalued or failed to nurture.
This tendency explains why people often say, with regret, that you never truly know what you have until you lose it. It also explains why many of the things we chase in life turn out to be illusions — imaginary treasures shaped by trends, expectations and borrowed aspirations rather than grounded realities.
Sometimes what we pursue so relentlessly is not what we need, but what we have been told to want.
Your treasure, in this sense, may be a God-given gift left undeveloped in favour of pursuing what appears popular. It could be a relationship neglected through complacency or familiarity, or a skill dismissed because it does not align with prevailing ideas of success.
Too often, people exhaust themselves emotionally, financially and spiritually before realising that what they were searching for was always within them, beside them, or beneath their feet.
A National Mirror
While this lesson of self-discovery may seem personal, it also carries profound national significance.
Like individuals, nations are prone to the same restlessness — the belief that progress must come from elsewhere. As locals, this reflection is inescapable. Our country is not lacking in potential; it is, in fact, rich beyond our imagination.
The challenge has never been the absence of resources, talent, or culture, but our collective hesitation to fully recognise, trust and activate what we already possess.
Our land tells this story clearly. The country is endowed with fertile soil capable of feeding the nation across its regions. The sugarcane fields of the Lowveld continue to anchor our agro-industry. Our dairy and beef sectors hold significant expansion potential.
Indigenous herbal and medicinal plants — long used in traditional healing — present opportunities for research, beneficiation and export.
For the kingdom, these are not distant possibilities; they are existing foundations waiting to be scaled with intention and belief.
In recent years, platforms such as the Eswatini Investment Promotion Authority’s (EIPA) investment conferences and exhibitions have sought to position the country as an attractive destination for capital, technology and partnerships.
These forums bring together local and international stakeholders to explore opportunities in agriculture, manufacturing, tourism and ICT.
They are important spaces for national discussion, not merely ceremonial gatherings, because they encourage structured thinking about how the country can grow.
Yet even as we court foreign direct investment, an important question arises: are we sufficiently investing in ourselves?
Are we as deliberate about empowering local producers, entrepreneurs, cooperatives and innovators as we are about attracting external interest?
Foreign investment can accelerate growth, but it cannot replace local confidence, ownership and value addition. Our most enduring strength may lie in what cannot be imported.
Culture as Capital
The country possesses one of the most distinctive cultural identities in the world. Our traditions, language, governance structures and social systems have endured centuries of change.
One of the most striking examples is Sibaya — the traditional consultative assembly where the king and the nation engage directly on matters of national importance.
Far from being merely a traditional event, Sibaya represents a deeply participatory model of governance rooted in dialogue, consensus and lived experience.
In an era where many countries struggle with public trust, political polarisation and disconnected leadership, Sibaya offers lessons worth studying — not discarding.
It reflects an understanding that solutions are stronger when they emerge from collective wisdom rather than imported frameworks alone.
This brings us to the broader African context.
Across the continent, many states adopted borrowed systems of governance at independence — often wholesale replicas of colonial or Western models. While some of these systems offered useful administrative tools, many were poorly aligned with local realities, cultures and social structures.
Over time, this mismatch has contributed to political instability, social fragmentation and economic dislocation in several countries.
This is not an argument against democracy, modern institutions, or global engagement.
Rather, it is a call for contextual intelligence.
Governance systems, like development strategies, function best when they reflect the values, histories and lived experiences of the people they serve.
True development is not imitation; it is adaptation.
It is the ability to integrate ancestral wisdom with modern innovation.
Across the country, local movements already demonstrate this balance.
Community cooperatives are strengthening food security. Youth innovation hubs are blending digital skills with local problem-solving. Women’s groups are reviving indigenous crafts and transforming them into sustainable enterprises.
These initiatives may not always dominate headlines, but they represent resilience in action.
Beneficiation Is Our Treasure
At the heart of this conversation lies the principle of beneficiation and value addition.
Too often, African economies export raw materials and import finished products at higher cost. This cycle reinforces dependency and limits wealth creation.
Yet value addition does not require foreign discovery — it requires local decision-making.
Processing what we grow, refining what we mine, branding what we create and telling our stories are acts of economic self-belief.
Supporting Made-in-Eswatini products is not simply patriotic — it is strategic. Every local purchase strengthens supply chains, preserves skills and retains capital within the country.
The Treasure Lies Within – Development Begins at Home
Santiago’s journey in The Alchemist was not in vain; it gave him the clarity to recognise his treasure when he finally stood where he had started.
The distance he travelled did not create the treasure — it refined his understanding of it.
In much the same way, nations, including our own, often spend years looking outward for answers before realising that the foundations of progress were present all along.
For Eswatini, this reflection is unavoidable.
We continue to search beyond our borders for solutions — capital, systems and validation — sometimes overlooking what already works at home.
Yet our land can feed us, our people can innovate and our institutions, when strengthened rather than replaced, can govern us effectively.
Progress will not come from copying what thrives elsewhere without asking whether it fits our reality.
It will come from the confidence to build deliberately from who we are.
There are moments when development does not require new discoveries, but renewed attention.
Attention to our farmers before foreign suppliers.
Attention to local enterprise before imported solutions.
Attention to cultural systems of consultation and accountability that have sustained cohesion for generations.
This is by no means a call for isolation, but a call to find balance — to ensure that what we borrow complements, rather than overrides, what is ours.
Conclusion
The long-lasting answers the country seeks will not always arrive from the outside.
More often, they lie in decisions we have yet to make about our capacity.
They are found in valuing local production, strengthening homegrown governance and trusting that our people are not merely beneficiaries of development, but its architects.
The real work, as Santiago learnt, begins when we stop searching elsewhere and start taking seriously what has been with us all along.
Until next week,
God bless!
