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In this episode, host Bidemi Ologunde explores five Yoruba proverbs about reputation, courage, borrowing, unemployment, and honor. What happens when public disgrace only reveals private neglect? Why do some people confront the weak while avoiding their equals? When does borrowing become a costume rather than support? Through historical context and modern anecdotes, this episode shows how Yoruba wisdom still speaks clearly to personal character, family life, leadership, and institutional trust.

Transcript

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On a January evening in 2024, passengers on Alaska Airlines Flight 1282 had just left Portland, Oregon, when a section of the airplane suddenly tore away. Oxygen masks dropped, phones flew into the night, and a routine trip became a terrifying lesson about tiny things that carry enormous responsibility. The later investigation focused public attention on something painfully small, four retention bolts that should have held a door plug in place. So for today's episode of the Yoruba Proverbs podcast, that image gives us a doorway into five Yoruba proverbs about reputation, courage, borrowing, usefulness, and honor. The scary part of that evening was the suddenness, but the moral part was the slowness. Crisis often looks sudden because the public sees the final break, while the private history may contain many smaller choices made long before the sound of rupture. So that is the spirit of today's five proverbs, because each one places a bright light on what people prepare, avoid, borrow, waste, or cheapen. The elders don't ask only what happened when everyone was looking. They ask what had been happening when nobody was clapping. Yoruba elders understood long before modern crisis management that a person, a family, a company, and a nation are often judged by the habits hidden from public view. A missing bolt, an unpaid debt, a borrowed garment, an idle hand, or a cheap shortcut may look small until life applies pressure. This is Yoruba Proverbs with Bidi Miolo Gunde, and today we are looking at five proverbs that ask one broad question. When the moment of testing arrives, what has a person actually built inside himself beyond performance, appearance, noise, and excuse? Yoruba proverbs are sometimes described through another proverb as the horse of conversation because they carry meaning forward when ordinary speech becomes tired. That is why these sayings remain useful across villages, boardrooms, airports, classrooms, family compounds, and social media feeds. So the first proverb says, O Sonkmo or Shoe, O Nuko Atari, O Jamala. Oni in genuine telo we bai. Oh titelo are we o tellowe lumero tabio nite. The sun rises and you don't eat cornmeal. The sun moves directly overhead and you don't eat yamflower meal. A visitor arrives at your house when the sun is just past the overhead position and you have nothing to entertain the visitor with. Yet you ask, Am I not in danger of being disgraced in this visitor's eyes? Don't worry about whether you may be disgraced in other people's eyes or not. O Songma O Shunko Atari O Jamala. The sun rises and you don't eat cornmeal. The sun moves directly overhead and you don't eat yam flour meal. A visitor arrives at your house when the sun is just past the overhead position and you have nothing to entertain the visitor with. Yet you ask, Am I not in danger of being disgraced by this visitor? Don't worry about whether you may be disgraced in other people's eyes or not. So this meaning is direct, but the proverb refuses to be superficial. What someone thinks of themselves is every bit as important as what other people think of them because shame begins long before visitors arrive. In the world behind this proverb, food is more than appetite and hospitality is more than table manners. Cornmeal and yam flour meal point to the daily rhythm of work, preparation, eating, and receiving others with dignity. So yam flour, which becomes a mala in Yoruba kitchens, is not merely a starchy swallow that is eaten with soup. It represents planning, storage, domestic knowledge, and the ability to transform a harvested tuba of yam into a meal that can meet hunger and welcome company. Now imagine a household in an older Europa town where morning has passed and afternoon is already here. A person has had time to grind, stare, plan, borrow responsibly, or confess honestly that the cupboard is empty. Yet he waits until a visitor arrives before remembering his reputation. So the visitor becomes a mirror, but the mirror did not create the face. The proverb asks why a person should fear disgrace only when another pair of eyes appears after his own eyes have watched the failure unfold all day. A modern version of this proverb appeared in the public career of former U.S. Congressman George Santos. His official biography and finances collapsed under scrutiny. In 2024, he pleaded guilty to wire fraud and aggravated identity theft. And in 2025, he received an 87-month sentence with restitution and forfeiture orders. The lesson for this proverb is not the politics of one country or one party because ambition wears many uniforms. The lesson is that a person who constructs an attractive public image still has to live with the private knowledge of how that image was made. Many listeners know a smaller version of the story from ordinary life. Someone posts generosity online while neglecting their relatives. Someone speaks about excellence while dodging preparation. And someone worries about embarrassment only when guests finally enter the room. The proverb is teaching self-audit before public audit, because the inner witness is always present. When someone knows that they've done the necessary work, the visitor's opinion still matters, but it no longer controls the whole meaning of the day. There is also a warning here for a culture of constant display. When public reaction becomes the main judge, a person may begin arranging life for witnesses rather than arranging life for honesty. That's why the meal in the proverb matters so much. The visitor can only reveal what the host has already neglected. And the host's panic is really a confession that he postponed responsibility until it became theater. So a useful exercise is to ask before any public test what the private record would say. The question applies to a student before exams, a pastor or imam before a sermon, a founder before a pitch meeting, and a parent before giving advice to their own child. The sun rises and you don't eat cornmeal. The sun moves directly overhead and you don't eat yam flour meal. A visitor arrives at your house when the sun is just past the overhead position and you have nothing to entertain him with. Yet you ask, Am I not in danger of being disgraced in this visitor's eyes? Don't worry about whether you may be disgraced in other people's eyes or not. So the second proverb says, Oshinolemua wudu. Bamidele Loshin Lemo. The African sea eagle cannot catch the kite bird flying high up in the sky. It can only catch Bamideli. Oshinolemua wudyoke. Bamidele Loshin Lemu. The African sea eagle cannot catch the kite bird flying high up in the sky. It can only catch Bamideli. So the meaning of this one is that some people confront people who are weaker than them while avoiding people who match them in strength. This proverb examines the difference between courage and predatory convenience. So the animal image is important because the eagle is powerful, dramatic, and feared from a distance. Still, even a strong bird has limits, and the proverb laughs at the kind of strength that searches for the easiest victim. So the African sea eagle mainly catches fish near the water surface, although it may also take water birds and steal prey from other birds. In the proverb, the eagle becomes a moral picture of a predator who chooses what is reachable and then dresses convenience as bravery. So a historical echo can be heard in the turbulent 19th century when Yoruba warfare intensified after the decline of the old Oyo Empire and the rise of military powers such as Ibado. During periods of insecurity, some ambitious warriors and chiefs could gain fame by pressing weaker towns while avoiding opponents that are capable of answering them with equal force. So the proverb does not deny the reality of power, it questions the ethics of selective courage. A person who frightens subordinates, children, apprentices, debtors, immigrants, widows, or junior colleagues may be powerful in the room. Yet the proverb measures him by the opponents he refuses to face. A modern example can be found in predatory digital lending practices that have troubled Nigeria and other markets. Nigeria's federal competition and consumer protection competition has described abusive digital lending conduct, including exploitative recovery practices, as an enforcement priority. So think of a borrower who takes a small emergency loan for school fees, rents, or medical expenses. When repayment becomes difficult, the lender may turn from financial service into public humiliation, reaching for contact lists, messages, threats, and even shame. So that is the C ego choosing BAMIDELI because the lender is not displaying courage against a financial equal. The lender is using data, desperation, and asymmetry to make a vulnerable person feel smaller than the original debt. In family life, the same pattern can appear when an adult avoids hard conversations with peers but shouts at children. In the workplace, it appears when a manager humiliates interns while remaining silent before executives who created the actual problem. The proverb offers a test for every display of power. Before we admire the eagle's wings, we should ask whether it rises toward a worthy challenge or merely drops toward the easiest prey. In schools, this proverb describes the student who avoids the confident classmates and torments the quiet child. In neighborhoods, it describes the local strong man who grows loud around tenants, traders, and drivers, but becomes silent before people who can answer him. The proverb also helps us evaluate leadership without being dazzled by volume. A leader who only disciplines the powerless may be managing fear rather than building justice, and the community should learn to hear the difference. There is a personal version as well, because everyone has someone weaker within reach. The proverb asks whether we use that advantage to protect, exploit, correct, or humiliate. And the answer reveals more about us than our speeches about courage. It can only catch Bamideli. So the third proverb says, Osho Losho Yeni Shokotuag Babo Kuyomo. One never looks good in other people's jewelry. Borrowed trousers do not fit the borrower. One never looks good in other people's jewelry. Borrowed trousers do not fit the borrower. So the meaning of this one is that one should not become a habitual borrower, especially when borrowing becomes a substitute for character, planning, and honest capacity. This proverb studies the distance between help that strengthens and display that weakens. The proverb is using appearance because appearance is where borrowed life usually begins. Jewelry can sparkle, clothes can impress, and trousers can cover the body, but borrowed jewelry rarely carries the inner sense of ownership. In Yoruba social life, clothing carries public meaning, especially at ceremonies where families present dignity, solidarity, and achievement. Ash, the Yoruba prestige cloth has long been associated with high status occasions such as weddings, naming ceremonies, funerals, and other milestones. So that history helps explain why the proverb is speaking through jewelry and trousers rather than through abstract finance. Clothes announce a person before speech begins, and borrowed clothes can announce a story that the borrower cannot sustain. So picture an older marketplace where a young man borrows another person's elegant trousers for a festival. He walks carefully, sits stiffly, fears tearing the clothes, he avoids rain, and spends the entire day protecting the borrowed image rather than enjoying the celebration. So the audience may admire the cloth, but the wearer knows the truth of every step. So the proverb is therefore not an attack on practical help because communities survive through mutual support. It is a warning against building one's identity from another person's resources. Modern consumer life has made this proverb global because status can now be rented, financed, filtered, and delivered overnight. Buying out pay later services can be useful for disciplined buyers, yet, regulators have noted heavy usage among borrowers who are already carrying other unsecured debts. The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau in the US reported that more than one-fifth of consumers with a credit record used at least one buy-now pay later loan in 2022. The Bureau also found that heavy users originated more than one such loan per month on average, which suggests that convenience can quietly become a lifestyle. The old proverb would recognize the emotional pattern behind the new technology. A person wants to attend the party, post the photograph, match the crowd, and silence the fear of being seen as ordinary. The borrow trouser may fit the camera angle, but it may fail the month-end budget. The jewelry may shine under party lights, but it may also carry private pressure long after the music ends. This proverb asks for proportion because borrowing for education, business, medical care, or a responsible bridge can be wise. Borrowing repeatedly to perform a status that one cannot maintain will eventually make the borrower walk through life in clothes that pinch. The borrowed trouser image also speaks to imitation beyond money and clothing. A writer can borrow another person's voice, a company can borrow another brand style, and a nation can borrow institutions whose inner discipline it has not cultivated. The problem appears when borrowing becomes prominent costume rather than temporary support. A community may import the title, office, uniform, or ceremony, yet the borrowed appearance will not fit if the behavior underneath remains unchanged. For young professionals, the proverb gives practical guidance about status anxiety. Build the body that can carry the garment, build the skill that can carry the title, and build the savings that can carry the celebration. For families, it also offers a gentler way to talk about weddings, funerals, birthdays, and public celebrations. The most honorable ceremony is the one that leaves the family standing after the guests have gone home. One never looks good in other people's jewelry. Borrow trousers do not fit the borrower. So the fourth proverb says, O wo idile ni yo coriko logiano. Idle hands are the ones obliged to remove grass specks from their in laws' eyes. Owo idle ni your coriko logiano. Idle hands are the ones obliged to remove grass specks from their in laws' eyes. So the meaning of this one is that unemployed people can expect to be asked to perform all sorts of belittling tasks. This proverb speaks about work, dependence, dignity, and the social meaning of time. The image is comical, uncomfortable, and socially sharp in a deliberately memorable way. Removing a grass back from an in-law's eye sounds too intimate, too awkward, and too small for anyone who wants to be treated as an adult withstanding. Yoruba marriage historically involved families as well as the couple, and relatives could make careful inquiries before approving a union. In the 19th century, Abe Okutta, a prospective husband could perform bride service for his bride's family through. Manual labor such as clearing land, supplying firewood, and helping with repairs. So that background is important because the word in-law carries power, observation, expectation, and obligation. A person without recognized work may become the available body in the compound, and availability can quickly become a reason for other people to assign humiliating errands. Imagine a young man living near his wife's relatives while waiting for his trade to recover after a poor harvest. At first, he helps willingly. Then every small inconvenience becomes his assignment until people forget that kindness was initially voluntary. The proverb is severe, but a humane reading must separate unemployment from laziness. Many people want useful work and they cannot find enough of it. And global labor reports still show deep anxiety around youth employment, informality, and young people outside employment, education, or training. The International Labor Organization reported that global youth unemployment reached a 15-year low in 2023, yet about one-fifth of young people were still not in employment, education, or training. The ILO also emphasized that informal and insecure work remains a major challenge, especially for young people in developing regions. So a modern anecdote might be the graduate who returns home after national service and spends months submitting applications. Because he's home during the day, relatives begin to treat his time as public property, asking for school runs, market errands, repairs, babysitting, and endless waiting at government offices. Another version appears in some offices where unpaid interns and temporary workers perform tasks far beneath their training. The problem is not service, because service can be honorable. The problem is the conversion of economic weakness into social smallness. The proverb teaches that purposeful work protects boundaries as well as income. It also reminds communities to help the unemployed regain agency rather than using their uncertainty as permission to belittle them. There is a deeper point about time because idle time invites other people's definitions. When a person has no visible plan, other people may begin to treat his hours as empty land available for occupation. That is why structure becomes important during unemployment, retirement, illness, migration, or any season of waiting. A person may not control the entire economy, but he can often protect dignity through routine, learning, service, applications, apprenticeships, and honest communication. Families and communities also have responsibilities under this proverb during difficult seasons. Helping someone without steady work should include respect, mentorship, introductions, skill building, and clear tasks rather than jokes that reduce the person to an errant machine. The in-laws' eye is an unforgettable image because it places the idle person in a position of uncomfortable closeness without real authority. The proverb warns that dependence can force a person into spaces where intimacy is demanded while dignity is not guaranteed. Idle hands are the ones obliged to remove grass specks from their in-laws' eyes. So the final proverb says, On wo lan rau go, okbo lan raopum ieki lan raimele. Hono is always expensive, filthiness is always cheap, and laziness is always at an indifferent price. Filthiness is always cheap, and laziness is always at an indifferent price. So the meaning of this one is quite straightforward and it basically says nothing is more difficult to come by than honor. This proverb gathers the entire episode into one sober account of character. The proverb can sound stern, but it describes a basic economy of character. Clean work, honest dealing, courage, patience, and accountability usually cost more than shortcuts at the beginning, while the bill for shortcuts often arrives later with interest. The Yoruba idea of Omolabi helps to frame this proverb because it connects personhood with character, integrity, respect, courage, and responsibility toward the community. In that moral world, honor is not decoration added after success. Honor is the disciplined substance that makes success worthy of trust. A historical market anecdote makes this point clearly for everyday listeners. A trader who refuses to use false measures may lose a little profit every morning. But over many seasons, people begin to trust her scale, her word, and her marketplace. Another trader may mix bad goods with good goods and gain quickly for a short time. When customers discover the pattern, the cheap profit becomes expensive because reputation has a memory longer than a market day. So that brings us back to the airplane with which we started this episode. The Alaska Airlines incident did not become scary because passengers could see every factory decision, but because hidden decisions finally met altitude, pressure, speed, and human vulnerability. The National Transportation Safety Board's final reports connected the accident to systemic manufacturing failure and ineffective federal oversight. The FAA responded by grounding affected aircraft, halting Boeing's max production expansion, and increasing oversight of Boeing and its suppliers. In ordinary moral language, that is the price of honor after honor has been neglected. Once trust is damaged, rebuilding it requires investigation, new controls, public accountability, financial cost, and the slow labor of proving that the next hidden bolt is actually present. This proverb also applies to personal life, where honor is expensive because it demands consistency when nobody is applauding. It costs time to study before speaking, money to repay debts, humility to apologize, courage to return what was wrongly gained, and discipline to reject easy dirt. The cheap road often advertises itself as cleverness, speed, or survival. The proverb answers that cheapness and laziness may seem affordable at first, while honor asks for payment before the applause arrives. Honor is expensive at the personal level because it requires self-restraint when nobody can punish the opposite choice. It is expensive at the family level because parents must model it before they can credibly demand it from their children. Honor is expensive at the institutional level because systems must budget for training, inspection, accountability, and correction. Companies, schools, religious bodies, governments, and families all discover that trust cannot be mass-produced after a scandal. This is where the prover becomes especially modern for institutions and individuals. In a world of speed, outsourcing, artificial intelligence, instant credits, and viral reputation, the temptation to appear finished before the work is finished becomes stronger every year. The Eurova answer remains steady because human nature has not changed as much as the tools have changed. Honor still asks people to do the costly thing early, when cheapness is still whispering that nobody will notice. So when we place all five proverbs together, a complete moral map begins to appear. The first proverb asks us to examine ourselves before worrying about public disgrace. And the second proverb asks whether our strength rises toward equal challenge. The third proverb warns us against making borrowed appearance into a way of life, and the fourth proverb shows how idleness can expose a person to humiliating dependency. The fifth proverb gathers the others together by insisting that honor remains the most expensive possession a person can acquire. These proverbs speak from Yoruba culture, but their reach is wide because every society struggles with appearance, power, dependency, work, and integrity. They explain the family compound and the global cooperation with the same calm precision. For listeners raising children, the message is to teach self-respect before applause, courage before domination, and stewardship before display. For leaders, the message is to measure strength by the burdens one accepts, not by the vulnerable people one can intimidate. For young people building a life under economic pressure, the message is firm but sympathetic. Accept help when it builds your capacity. Resist performance that deepens dependence. And remember that useful work includes the disciplined search for work. For all of us, the closing question is simple enough to carry into the week. When the visitor arrives, when the weaker person stands before us, when the borrowed garment shines, when idle time exposes us, and when honor demands its price, what kind of person will already be waiting inside? They ask us to see the missing bolt before the cabin opens. They ask us to see the borrowed trouser before the public dance. And they ask us to see the private conscience before the crowd begins to judge.