Whispers of the Wise, Echoes of the Foolish

Whispers of the Wise, Echoes of the Foolish

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

My Grandmother Celestine had a saying for every situation in life. Some were soft, like honey on cornbread, and some stung like rubbing salt in a paper cut. But whether sweet or sharp, her words always landed right.

“There’s two types of people in this world, baby the wise, and the fools,” she said once, squinting over her glasses while smacking dough for her sweet potato biscuits. “And sometimes they live under the same roof. You just better know who’s cooking the truth and who’s just making noise.”

And just like that, she dropped wisdom while rolling flour.

I didn't understand it back then. I thought wisdom wore robes and walked slow, spoke in proverbs, and had incense burning. But Grandmother Celestine showed me that wisdom could wear house shoes, call you “sugar,” and still slice a fool down with one raised eyebrow.

The Folklore of Foolish Fire: A Tale from the Village of Lintaba

Long ago in the hills of Lintaba, there lived a man named Boma who thought himself cleverer than the whole Creator’s sky. He talked so much even the parrots started giving him side-eyes. He’d argue with thunder, insult the elders, and laugh loudest when no one was joking. “Old ways are for old bones,” he’d scoff.

Then came the drought.

The rivers cracked, the soil turned to ash, and the people gathered to seek wisdom from the ancestors and the Creator. But Boma? He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shovel, and said, “Who needs prayer when I got muscle?”

He dug all night.

By morning, he was swallowed by the earth the hole he made caved in on his pride. His shouts were faint, muffled by the very ground that refused to be disrespected.

Meanwhile, a quiet boy named Ladu had listened to the elders and meditated under a sacred fig tree. He felt the Creator’s nudge and dug gently and struck a spring.

While Boma became a cautionary tale, Ladu became a provider. The spring flowed for generations.

As the elders said, “Noise can stir dust, but still waters run deep.”

Real-Life Fools and Everyday Wisdom

Now, I've seen Boma types in my life loud folks, always got something to say, always ready to fight air. Some bark so much you'd think they were born with megaphones in their mouths.

One time, I brought a friend like that to church. Soon as the sermon started, he leaned over and said, “See, this where they try to control you with all that humble talk.”

Grandmother Celestine, who happened to be sitting behind us, leaned in and said, “Humble don’t mean weak, sugar. It means your spirit been trained not to act a fool every time your feelings catch a chill.”

He didn’t say another word the rest of the service.

The Danger of Keeping Company with Fools

You ever try carrying a bucket full of water with holes in it? That’s what it’s like walking through life with foolish people. You pour yourself into friendship, into loyalty, into love and they drip nonsense with every step, until all you’re left with is frustration and a soaked shoe.

Foolishness is sneaky. Sometimes it looks like bravery. Other times, it looks like charm. But give it time it always reveals itself in broken bridges, burned peace, and bruised spirits.

Grandmother Celestine would say,

“Don’t mistake loud for right. Roosters crow all morning, but they still can’t lay an egg.”

The Sacred Strength of the Silent Ones

We live in a time where silence is suspicious. If you're not snapping back, clapping back, or throwing shade, folks think you weak. But the quiet ones? Oh, they dangerous in the best kind of way. They move with purpose, speak with intention, and don’t waste breath proving what the Creator already knows.

Celestine would say,

“The ones who don’t fight every battle? They already know which ones belong to the Creator.”

I’ve learned not to look down on those who choose not to argue with fools. There’s power in stillness. The wise speak when words are needed the fool speaks just to be heard.

A Little Celestine Humor

Now, I can’t talk about Celestine without giving you one of her gems. One day I came home from school mad because some loud boy called me “soft” for walking away from a fight.

She didn’t even look up from peeling collards. She said,

“Soft? Baby, mashed potatoes are soft, but they feed the whole table. You wanna be tough like stale bread? Can’t nobody chew that mess.”

I laughed through my tears.

That’s the kind of woman she was funny, firm, and full of faith.

In Closing: Seek the Creator, Not the Crowd

The fool says in his heart, “There is no Creator,” but his life shouts confusion. The fool delights in his own voice, but his words are traps for his soul. The wise, however, seek understanding. They pause. They pray. They listen.

And when they don't understand?

They lean not on their own thoughts, but on the guidance that flows from beyond them.

We are not called to be perfect just patient.

Not called to be loud just faithful.

Not called to win arguments but to walk with discernment.

So pray.

Wait.

Watch.

Because the Creator don’t shout over foolishness. The Creator whispers in wisdom.

Final Note:

There are two kinds of people in this world the wise and the fools. Grandmother Celestine taught me that. And the older I get, the more I realize…

I’d rather sit in silence with the wise than shout nonsense with a crowd of fools.