The Lion Who Asked First

There was once a young lion named Aro who was afraid he was not brave.

His brothers roared until the antelope scattered. His sisters chased buffalo into the river. Aro could roar too — but before he did, he always wanted to ask: Are you sure? Is this fair? Do we have to?

His brothers laughed at him. “A lion who asks questions,” they said, “is half a goat.”

One dry season, the herd that lived on the plain grew thin and frightened. The brothers wanted to chase the weakest into the gully, where the stones would do their work for them.

Aro stood in front of the herd and asked, “Are you hungry enough to need all of them?”

His brothers stopped. They were lions; they were not used to being asked.

“No,” one of them admitted, after a long silence. “Two would do.”

“Then take two,” said Aro, “and leave the rest to graze. They will be there tomorrow, and the day after, and the year after that.”

His brothers fed. The herd survived. The dry season passed.

When the rains came, the antelope still ran from the lions — that is the way of antelope and lions — but the eldest of the herd, a grandmother with one cracked horn, was heard to say to her grandchildren: There is a lion on the eastern ridge who asks before he eats. Run from the others. From him you only have to walk.

::: moral Courage is not the absence of a question. It is the willingness to ask the question even when it costs you the roar. :::