The Tale of the Little Lion Who Wanted to Become a Great King of the Jungle

The little lion was walking that morning beside his father through the tall grasses of the Serengeti. The sun had barely risen, and the savannah was slowly waking up: a few zebras were making their way toward the water, giraffes stood motionless among the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a pack of hyenas argued noisily about something none of them would probably remember half an hour later.

The cub walked proudly beside the old lion. Lately, he had been asking many questions. Too many, according to some of the lionesses in the pride. But his father never seemed bothered by it.

In fact, that morning he had decided to teach him something important.

“My son,” said the old lion as they walked slowly onward, “one day you will have to take care of others. And before you learn how to roar, hunt, or defend territory, you must understand something far more difficult: how not to destroy your own pride from within.”

The cub immediately raised his ears.

“Destroy it? How?”

The old lion did not answer yet.

He simply kept walking until they stopped in front of a huge glass building whose windows overlooked the savannah. Years earlier, some particularly creative human had decided to build a gigantic multinational events company in the middle of the Serengeti. Nobody really understood why, but there it stood: dozens of elegantly dressed humans in the middle of a land filled with zebras, hyenas, and giraffes.

The little lion had already spent quite some time watching the inside with fascination.

“Dad…” he finally asked. “What are they doing?”

The old lion slowly lifted his gaze.

Inside the building, around thirty people were moving from one side to the other. Some carried folders. A grey-haired woman typed furiously while constantly glancing toward a closed door at the end of the hallway. Two men argued in front of a printer with an intensity rather inappropriate for such a supposedly evolved species. The one who looked like the battalion commander paced nervously back and forth holding a bottle of water and a list covered in fluorescent highlights.

The old lion observed the scene for a few seconds before answering.

“My son… I wish I knew myself. But it is important that you watch carefully. Because if one day you lead a pride, you must understand the exact moment when groups stop functioning like a family… and begin behaving like frightened animals afraid of one another.”

The cub opened his eyes wide.

“I think they are preparing a conference,” the father finally added.

Humans had learned to cross oceans, observe distant galaxies, and even walk on the moon. And yet, inside that building, that very morning, they seemed incapable of organizing themselves well enough to place a simple sign reading “Conference Room Entrance.”

“Does the sign go on this door or the other one?”
“I don’t know… better ask first.”
“Ask who?”
“Wait, don’t put it up yet.”
“What if they get upset afterward?”
“Yes… better confirm first.”

Five minutes later, the sign was still leaning against the wall.

The cub slowly tilted his head.

“But… why don’t they just put it up?”

The old lion let out a low, heavy chuckle.

“Because a very long time ago, they stopped moving alongside one another without fear.”

Inside the building, a clearly distressed young woman suddenly appeared.

“Excuse me… should the badges be printed horizontally or vertically?”

Three people immediately stopped what they were doing.

They approached.

They analyzed the issue.

They debated it.

Eventually, they decided to wait for authorization.

The cub opened his eyes wide.

“Dad… did they really make it to the moon like this?”

The old lion sighed slowly.

“Yes, my son. Imagine what they might have achieved if they had learned to trust one another sooner.”

At that moment, another group of humans was arguing around a table placed in the middle of the hallway.

“I think it’s in the way here.”
“Yes, but we can’t move it without telling someone.”
“Where’s the boss?”
“I don’t know, someone went looking for him.”
“Well… move it a little then.”
“No, not that much.”
“Not like that either.”
“Better put it back where it was.”

The table was solemnly returned to its original position.

Exactly three seconds later, another human turned the corner, violently tripped over it, and suddenly everybody started running around again.

The cub jumped slightly backward.

“But it was obviously in the way!”

“Yes,” the father replied calmly. “They knew that too.”

The little lion remained silent for a few moments, staring at the building.

From the outside, the whole scene carried a strangely sad feeling. None of the humans seemed truly relaxed. They behaved as though any small movement might trigger an entire stampede of invisible hyenas. As if every decision carried the potential to awaken hidden dangers somewhere in the tall grass.

And perhaps, thought the old lion, at some point things really had been exactly like that.

Because humans do not invent all of their fears. Some are born after too many blows.

The problem begins when a pride spends so long reacting this way… that it eventually starts confusing mistakes with danger.

Then they stop moving naturally.

They begin constantly watching one another before every step.

And little by little, something even worse happens: they stop trusting their own judgment.

The cub continued observing the building in fascination.

“But… if they work together, shouldn’t they help one another?”

The old lion looked once more at the humans before replying.

“My son, I cannot bear seeing them like this… but I want this to serve as a lesson for the day you must care for your own pride.”

The cub raised his ears again.

“If your pride cannot move without your constant approval, then you are not leading it. You are suffocating it… and putting it in danger.”

The little lion remained silent.

“The lionesses know perfectly well how to care for the cubs without asking me about every movement. The scouts know how to detect danger before I even see it. The young learn by observing, making mistakes, and correcting themselves together. That is how a pride survives generation after generation.”

The old lion looked back toward the building.

Inside the hallway, someone seemed desperately to be searching for authorization to use a stapler.

“When members of a pride stop thinking for themselves, it usually isn’t because they are useless,” the father continued. “It is because they learned that every decision carries painful consequences. And when that happens for too long, they stop deciding altogether. They wait for orders. They wait for approval. They wait for permission even to breathe.”

The cub listened attentively.

“Never make the mistake of creating dependency, my son. A great king does not create obedient animals. He creates free ones. Capable ones. He creates responsibility, judgment, and trust within the pride.”

The old lion paused briefly.

“You must teach them where the boundaries are, what dangers exist, and where the pride is heading. But within that space… they must be able to move on their own. Think on their own. Learn on their own. Even make mistakes.”

The cub looked once again toward the building.

Now two humans seemed to be arguing over who should authorize the use of a stapler for official documents.

Inside the building, someone had just asked the final question:

“Excuse me… may we use this stapler, or is there another one authorized for official documents?”

The cub opened his eyes wide.

At that exact moment, the grey-haired woman lifted her head from the computer.

“Not that one! The blue one is only for internal documents!”

Silence fell immediately.

The young woman with the badges slowly let go of the stapler.

Two men started arguing again.

Someone ran off looking for the boss.

And meanwhile, outside, the wind of the savannah slowly carried away the “Conference Room Entrance” sign, which still had not been placed after more than an hour.

The little lion watched as the paper disappeared into the tall grass.

Then he slowly raised his eyes toward his father.

“Dad… then the problem is not that they don’t know how to think.”

The old lion sighed quietly.

“No, my son. The problem is that it has been far too long since they stopped doing it. Do not misunderstand me: humans are capable of extraordinary things. But sometimes they forget something very simple… no pride survives for very long, and no king of the jungle endures, when everyone is afraid to think, to decide, and to be themselves.”

The cub remained silent for a few moments.

The savannah slowly returned to its usual calm.

“I hope you understood today’s lesson,” the old lion finally added as he began walking slowly through the tall grass.

The little lion cast one final glance toward the glass building.

Inside, the humans were still arguing about the stapler.

“Yes, Dad… let’s go home now.”

Nicole Martín Medina

Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

May 2026

(original in Spanish, translation Chat CPT, revision NMM)