Until the Lion Learns to Write, the Story Will Always Glorify the Hunter

Until the Lion Learns to Write, the Story Will Always Glorify the Hunter – African Proverb Some proverbs don’t come from books. They arrive as people. There’s a friend in my life — not loud, not imposing, not always the first to speak — but someone whose presence carries a quiet kind of gravity. They don’t preach. They don’t push. But in the way they walk through the world — measured, observant, dignified — they seem to carry the weight of unspoken stories. I’ve found myself wanting to know them more — not just their words, but their silences. Not just their opinions, but what shaped them. They remind me of something both ancient and deeply human — the feeling that behind every quiet soul is a history untold, a perspective unclaimed. They never quoted this proverb to me. But their character whispered it louder than words: “Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.” It landed in me like a question I hadn’t asked in a while. And what followed was this reflection — not just about power, or history, or silence, but about the stories we tell, the stories we’re told, and the stories waiting in all of us to be written. Stories shape the world. They decide who is remembered, who is praised, who is erased. But what happens when only the powerful tell the tale? What if the lion — fierce, wounded, silenced — never holds the pen? The answer is simple: Truth bends. The hunter becomes the hero. And the hunted becomes a footnote. The Power of the Pen — and Who Holds It History isn’t neutral. It’s written by victors, preserved by empires, edited by systems. Colonial powers called conquest a “mission to civilize.” Patriarchies erased generations of women as “unfit to lead.” Even today, media curates stories to serve comfort, profit, or power. The lion — the marginalized, the misrepresented, the unheard — is still waiting to speak. Still fighting to write. How many voices have been lost to silence dressed up as history? And how many stories have we accepted without ever asking — who wrote this? From Passive Readers to Active Witnesses This proverb doesn’t ask for sympathy. It calls for awareness. It urges us to ask: •Whose version am I reading? •Who is missing from this story? •Who gains when only one side is told? Silence isn’t the absence of truth. It’s often the result of suppression. When we only echo what’s been allowed, we help glorify the hunter — and bury the lion’s pain, power, and perspective. Are You the Lion — or Just the Reader? Now ask yourself: •Who’s been writing your story? •Have you let others define your worth, your path, your voice? •Have you accepted a narrative that was never yours? If so, you’ve been living inside someone else’s version of your life — Visible, but voiceless. Present, but powerless. So What Now? Reclaim the pen. •Speak your truth — even if it shakes the ground. •Question the scripts you were handed. •Refuse silence when your story is unfolding. You are not just a character. You are the lion. And your roar begins with the words you dare to say. The pen is waiting. Will you pick it up? The story will always glorify the hunter until the lion learns to write, — and the world will never know what it cost the lion to survive.

When Help Arrives Unannounced

In the middle of a chaotic move, with boxes piled high and plans unraveling, I’d completely forgotten about the Scooty. Just then, as if on cue, a former student, Narendra, appeared at my door—unannounced. Some students don’t just learn—they stay. In your life, in your memories, and sometimes, show up like miracles on moving day.