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Email: bidemiologunde@gmail.com

In this episode, host Bidemi Ologunde explores five Yoruba proverbs about greed, wisdom, human limitation, interdependence, and the revealing nature of sudden success. Why does an elder lose dignity when appetite overpowers restraint? Why does privilege sometimes create even more hunger? What happens when intelligent people forget the limits of knowledge? Through historical scenes and modern anecdotes, this episode shows how ancient Yoruba wisdom still explains leadership, wealth, status, and character today.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:16

A young man once stood at the center of a new financial world and made the future look effortless. He had celebrity investors, political access, media attention, and a company that seemed to speak the language of tomorrow. Then the story collapsed and a courtroom became the place where ambition, appetite, and deception were weighed in plain language. So that recent case is useful for today's episode because it reminds us that greed rarely arrives wearing old clothes. Sometimes greed arrives with a laptop, a pitch deck, a polished vocabulary, and an invitation to trust what we do not fully understand. Someone can have money, access, attention, intelligence, and influence while still lacking the discipline that keeps power from becoming childish. Welcome to Yoruba Proverbs with P. Demi Yologunde. My name is Pidemiologunde, and today we are looking at five Yoruba proverbs that speak to greed, wisdom, limitations, dependence, and the way sudden opportunity exposes character. These proverbs come from a society that watched human behavior closely, and they remain useful because human appetite has not changed as much as our tools have changed. So the first proverb I have says, and that translates to it is a greedy elder that turns himself into a child. It is a greedy elder that turns himself into a child. So the meaning of this one is basically saying an elder who cannot control his or appetite is asking to be treated like a child. So in Yoruba philosophy, an elder is expected to carry restraint, judgment, patience, and self-command. Age alone does not make a person wise because wisdom must show itself through conduct. When an elder becomes greedy, the elder loses the dignity that should come with age, and then the community begins to supervise him or her like someone without self-control. So let's picture an old compound during a festival meal. The elder sits in a place of honor, the children wait for instructions, and the cooks and chefs begin to distribute the food. One elder, already respected by everyone, keeps asking for extra pieces of meat before the younger people are served. At first, people laugh gently because age receives patience in Yoruba society. After a while, the laughter changes into embarrassment because the elder's appetite has suddenly become louder than his position. And that's the force of this proverb. The elder has turned himself into a child because childishness is not mainly about age. Childishness is appetite without proportion. Childishness is the refusal to wait and be patient. Childishness is the feeling that every good thing must come to me first, even when dignity is being lost in public. So a modern version of this proverb is very easy to recognize. Think of a senior executive who has the largest office, the highest salary, and the most influence. Yet he or she still takes credit for the work of junior employees. Think of a public official who already enjoys privileges, yet still looks for small personal benefits from every public resource. Think of a family elder who has been honored for decades, yet still fights the youngest relatives over inheritance and food and praise or attention. So this proverb doesn't attack success or comfort. It attacks the loss of moral proportion. A grown person should know when enough has become enough. When someone with status keeps grabbing, the person begins to shrink in the eyes of the community. The title remains, but the dignity begins to leave. For a general audience, this proverb asks a direct question. What appetite is making you smaller? It may be money, food, attention, applause, control, romance, fame, influence, or the need to win every argument. The proverb says that uncontrolled appetite can reduce an adult into a child. Even when the person has gray hair or a large bank account or a respected surname. It is a greedy elder that turns himself into a child. It is an insatiable chief of the masqueraders cult that stands on tiptoes to watch a performing masquerader. It is an insatiable chief of the masqueraders cult that stands on tiptoes to watch a performing masquerader. So the meaning is basically saying excessive greed is especially disgraceful when a person already has access to what others are struggling to see. So this proverb uses the world of eggung, the masquerade tradition connected with ancestry, memory, performance, ritual, and communal spectacle. So the chief of the masqueraders is not an outsider. He belongs near the center of the event. He knows the arrangements, he understands the costumes, and he has access to the sacred and social dimensions of the performance. So that's why the image is very sharp. If an ordinary spectator stands on tiptoes, well, we understand the desire to see more clearly. But when the chief of the masqueraders himself stands on tiptoes, something has gone wrong with appetite. The person who already has access is still behaving like someone deprived. So let's imagine a festival ground in an old Yoruba town. The drums are speaking, children are running around the edges, traders are selling food, and people are gathering to watch the masquerade dance. A visitor at the back may stretch their neck to catch a glimpse because the crowd is thick and the moment is exciting. Then everyone notices the chief of the masqueraders who has already seen the preparations, standing on tiptoes as if he has been cheated of the view. So the community reads this gesture immediately, and the problem is no longer access. The problem now is inner hunger. The chief has crossed from appreciation into restlessness and from authority into undignified craving. In modern life, this proverb applies to people who already have the best seats but still push others aside. A person has insider access, private briefings, reserved seats, and every advantage you can think of, yet they still manipulate the system to gain a little bit more. A celebrity receives free products and exclusive invitations, yet they still pressure a small business for unpaid favors. A wealthy person receives a discount designed for struggling customers and still accepts it without reflection. The proverb is useful because many people confuse greed with poverty. Yoruba wisdom knows that greed can live inside abundance. Some people become more anxious after gaining access because access feeds the imagination of further access. When nothing satisfies a person, privilege becomes another form of hunger. So the recent financial scandals we've watched around the world carry the same lesson. Some of the people involved were already successful, well connected, and admired. Their downfall did not begin because they had no seat at the table. Their downfall began because the seat at the table was no longer enough for them. So this proverb gives us a social ethic. The closer you are to the center, the more restraint people expect from you. Power should reduce scrambling. Access should increase grace. Privilege should create room for others to see and eat and learn and breathe. So the third proverb I have says, No wise man ever ties water in a knot in his clothes. No knowledgeable person can tell the number of grains of sand on the earth. No wise man ever ties water in a knot in his cloth. No knowledgeable person can tell the number of grains of sand on the earth. So the meaning of this one is that some feats are beyond even the most accomplished human beings. So this is a proverb about limits, and Yoruba philosophy respects wisdom, but it does not worship human intelligence. The wise person has value because the wise person knows the boundary between knowledge and impossibility. The fool often fails because the fool thinks confidence can replace reality. So the image of tying water in a knot is beautiful because everyone understands it immediately. Cloth can hold money, herbs, cola nuts, or small objects. Cloth cannot hold water when tied like a bundle. A person may be intelligent, respected, and experienced, but the nature of water still refuses that arrangement. The second image expands the lesson further. A knowledgeable person may understand farming, soil, trade, language, healing, and politics. That person still cannot count every grain of sand on the earth. The proverb protects us from the arrogance of expertise. Knowledge is powerful, yes, but knowledge has a horizon. Let's picture an old community deciding where to build a road, settle a dispute, or prepare for a difficult season. The elders ask questions, the hunters describe the forest, the farmers describe the soil, the diviners interpret signs, and the women who trade across towns bring news from far places. Together they gather knowledge. Still, no responsible elder claims to know everything, and that humility is part of wisdom. A leader who admits uncertainty is not weak. A teacher who says the matter needs more study is not empty. A doctor who orders tests before speaking is not ignorant. A parent who listens before advising is not losing authority. Modern life needs this proverb very badly. We live in an age of data dashboards and artificial intelligence and forecasts and polls and market analysis and instant opinions. These tools can be useful, but they can also create the illusion that every future can be calculated. We can now estimate weather patterns, consumer behavior, election trends, disease spread, financial risk, and social movements. However, we still cannot tie water in a knot. A data scientist can predict broad patterns while missing one human decision that changes the outcome. A financial model may look stable, while one hidden assumption destroys the entire calculation. A political expert may explain voters confidently, then watch the voters behave differently. A parent may believe every child will respond to the same instruction, then discover that each child carries a separate world inside of them. This proverb doesn't ask us to despise knowledge, no. It asks us to simply respect reality. Wisdom grows stronger when it remembers that some things remain too vast, too fluid, too complex, or too sacred for human control. So for listeners today, the practical question is simple enough to carry into daily life. Where am I pretending to know more than I know? That question can save a marriage, a business, a friendship, and an entire community. Many disasters begin when someone refuses to say, I need more information before I decide. That sentence may sound ordinary, but it carries the discipline of this proverb. No knowledgeable person can tell the number of grains of sand on the earth. So the fourth proverb I have says, the wise person does not consult the ifa oracle for himself. The knowledgeable person does not install himself as chief. The sharp knife does not carve its own handle. The wise person does not consult the ifa oracle for himself. The knowledgeable person does not install himself as chief. And the sharp knife does not carve its own handle. So the meaning of this one is that even the strongest and wisest people still need the services of other people. So this proverb moves from limitation to interdependence. A person may be wise, but self-judgment is difficult. A person may be qualified, but self-appointment lacks legitimacy. A knife may be sharp, but its sharpness cannot solve the problem of its own handle. So the proverb uses three images from typical Yoruba life. First, ifah is associated with divination, interpretation, and spiritual inquiry. A trained person may know the system, but personal desire can cloud judgment. Second, chieftaincy requires recognition from others because public authority cannot be created privately in one's own room. Third, a knife needs a handle, and even the sharpest blade depends on another tool or another hand to become useful and safe. So let's imagine a respected diviner in an old town who is facing a crisis in his own family. He has helped many households interpret difficult situations, but now the matter touches his own children, his own reputation, and his own fears. The wise response is to invite another competent person to help. So the issue is not lack of skill. The issue is the distortion that comes when the eye tries to see itself without a mirror. The issue is not lack of skill. The issue is the distortion that comes when the eye tries to see itself without a mirror. So now imagine a strong warrior who declares himself chief because he has defeated enemies and protected the town. The community may respect his courage, but title requires collective recognition. Title requires collective recognition. Without the kingmakers and the elders and all the different lineages and the rituals of acceptance, power becomes noise rather than authority. So the knife image brings the lesson home. A sharp knife can cut meat, peel yam, clear bushes, and shape wood. That same knife cannot hold itself properly without a handle. So in other words, strength becomes dangerous when it refuses support. And of course, there are modern examples everywhere. A surgeon does not usually operate on himself. A serious lawyer hires another lawyer when the matter concerns personal liberty, family conflict, or financial exposure. A therapist may also need another therapist. A founder may need the board, an accountant, a lawyer, and someone honest enough to challenge that founder's judgment. A pastor, imam, professor, investor, or community leader may guide many people and still need guidance themselves. This proverb is especially important for high achievers. Capable people often confuse independents with maturity. They know how to solve problems, yes. So they begin to think every problem should be solved alone. Yoruba wisdom answers with the knife. Sharpness is useful, but sharpness needs a handle. In family life, this proverb tells parents to seek counsel before pride damages the children. In professional life, it tells leaders to build systems that can correct them. In public life, it tells office holders that legitimacy must come from more than self-belief. In creative life, it tells artists, writers, and speakers to welcome editors, producers, listeners, and friends who can hear what the creator cannot hear alone. A person who refuses all help often says, I know myself. The proverb answers that self-knowledge still needs mirrors. Self-knowledge still needs mirrors. We are partly hidden from ourselves. Other people may see our impatience, vanity, blind spots, and fear before we even recognize them. The wise person does not consult the ifa oracle for himself, the knowledgeable person does not install himself as chief, and the sharp knife does not carve its own handle. So the final proverb on this episode says Omo Aijoberi tinjequosaya. A child new to eating stews shows himself by dripping palm oil on his chest. Omo a jobberri tinjekosaya. A child who is new to eating stews shows himself by dripping palm oil on his chest. So the meaning is that newcomers reveal themselves through the misuse of newfound fortune. So this is a very vivid proverb. Palm oil is bright, rich, and difficult to hide when it stains clothing or even the skin. A child who has not learned how to eat still carefully will announce in public what experience. Has not yet taught in private. A child who has not yet learned how to eat steel carefully will announce in public what experience has not yet taught in private. So the stain becomes evidence. Of course, the proverb is not only about children, and the steel is not only food. The steel represents opportunity, fortune, status, wealth, fame, romance, education, office, travel, technology, or just sudden access. The child represents anyone who is new to a situation and still lacking the habits required to manage it. So let's imagine a young trader in a historical market town who suddenly makes more profit than expected. Instead of quietly strengthening the business, repaying debts, helping the household, and learning from older traders, he begins to dress loudly, boast carelessly, and spend in front of people who are studying him. Before long, creditors, flatterers, rivals, and opportunists know exactly where to find him. His palm oil has reached his chest. Of course, the proverb does not condemn the newcomer for receiving good fortune. It warns that new fortune requires new discipline. Receiving something and knowing how to carry it are different skills. Many people pray for doors to open, while forgetting that an open door can expose a person to weather, armdrubbers, praise, envy, and pressure. Modern life gives this proverb endless examples. A young athlete signs a major contract and suddenly becomes surrounded by people who have plans for his money. A new influencer gains attention and begins confusing applause with wisdom. A first-time founder raises capital and starts spending as if fundraising were profit. A lottery winner receives more money than the family has ever seen and becomes a target for every relative, stranger, advisor, and even salespeople. We also see this lesson in technology and finance. In recent years, some people entered digital markets, crypto projects, or viral businesses with more confidence than discipline. Some gained sudden visibility and began making promises they could not keep. Some people took investor money and treated it like their own personal wealth. The stain was visible in terms of luxury purchases, exaggerated claims, and the inability to separate stewardship from enjoyment. So this proverb is compassionate if we hear it properly. It recognizes that newness has dangers. A person new to wealth needs education. A person new to leadership needs mentorship. A person new to fame needs privacy. A person new to love needs patience. A person new to migration needs guidance. A person new to freedom needs boundaries. The child with palm oil on his chest can still learn. The mistake becomes destructive only when the child refuses correction. In Yoruba culture, training matters because character is shaped by repeated instruction. The community does not expect a child to arrive fully formed. Of course not. The community expects the child to listen, observe, improve, and then listen again, and then observe again and then improve again, and then continue that cycle until maturity becomes second nature. For listeners of the podcast, the question becomes personal. What new blessing in my life requires a new discipline? Maybe you recently received a promotion. Maybe you recently moved to a new country. Maybe your business is growing. Maybe people are suddenly listening to your voice. Maybe your children are becoming adults. Maybe you now have access to rooms that once felt impossible. So the proverb says the first season of success is a test of manners. Don't drip pomole everywhere simply because steel has finally reached your plate. Eat with awareness. Carry fortune quietly. Let growth produce steadiness before it produces noise. Omo Ajoberi Tinjeposia. A child new to eating steels shows himself by dripping palm oil on his chest. So when we place all these five proverbs together, they form one continuous lesson about appetite and maturity. The first proverb says that greed can make an elder become childish. The second proverb says that privilege can still behave like deprivation. The third proverb says that wisdom must accept the limits of human knowledge. The fourth proverb says that strength still needs other people. The fifth proverb says that sudden fortune reveals the training a person already has or doesn't have. Altogether, they give us a map for living with power, access, knowledge, status, and opportunity. Don't let appetite reduce your dignity. Don't use privilege to scramble for more than your own share. Don't pretend to count all the sand on earth. Don't try to carve your own handle. And don't let palmwell announce your inexperience before wisdom has trained your hands. That is why these proverbs remain very much alive. They are not museum pieces and they are not decorative sayings for cultural nostalgia. They are instruments for reading human conduct. They help us understand why a powerful person may behave like a child, why an insider may still scramble like an outsider, why an expert may still be wrong, why a strong person may still need help, and why sudden success can reveal hidden immaturity. In the recent stories of collapsed companies, financial frauds, viral fame, broken leadership, and public embarrassment, we keep seeing old proverbs wearing new clothes. The tools are new, but the appetite is old. So as I wrap up this episode, please carry these proverbs into the ordinary places where character is tested. Carry them into meetings and kitchens and markets and classrooms and family events and group chats and boardrooms and churches, mosques, campuses, and private decisions. The person who understands a proverb has received more than language. That person has received a small lamp for walking through human behavior. So this has been Yoruba Proverbs with Bidemiologundi. Until the next episode, may wisdom guide our appetites, may dignity guide our access, and may discipline guide every new blessing that comes into our hands. Thank you.