di Antonio Napoli

A crippled man was begging at the gates of an African village belonging to the Basonge people. When no one was passing by, he lowered his gaze to observe the ants busy carrying crumbs of bread.

One day, at dawn, from the end of the deserted road, a man with a proud bearing arrived. He stopped in front of the cripple and said, “As far as I know, the king wouldn’t like to see a man doing nothing.”

“I’m not idling,” protested the poor man. “I command my legions.”

The passerby pointed out that there was no one around.

“Oh, my lord, you are mistaken,” replied the cripple, showing him the ants at his feet. “This is my army.”

“Well,” said the other with a sneer, “only a cripple could lead an almost invisible army, one that walks with so many feet yet goes nowhere,” and he laughed, thinking he had come across a madman.

The cripple then said calmly, as accustomed to contempt as he was to the scorching sun, “I see the ants running in precise order. They are swift and promptly follow the commands they give themselves, in harmony. However, I believe not even the king could order them to move in a direction against their will.”

The man found these words quite insolent and, without thinking too much, retorted, revealing his identity: “Do you believe that the will of a king, who rules a kingdom, cannot be obeyed by a mere tiny insect?” He then tried to control the movement of an ant, blocking its path with his finger and attempting to force it in the opposite direction, but the insect resisted. Frustrated, he was about to crush it.

“Stop, my king! Please, do not harm my simple soldier!” implored the cripple.

“If you want me not to harm it, prove to me that you can command the entire legion of ants; otherwise, I will crush them all,” said the king arrogantly.

“My king, I will make all the ants run in one direction,” promised the beggar. At that point, he traced a groove in the sand with his finger, gathered a line of ants in the hollow of his hand, and then ordered them to follow the path he had drawn. The ants moved in the indicated direction—toward an apple core that the beggar had promptly pulled out from his tattered garment.

“Ah,” said the king, smiling. “Your legs may be crooked, but your judgment is straight. A man so wise must stay at my court!”

Over the years, that beggar became the king’s most trusted advisor, suggesting strategies for ruling the kingdom and deciding whether to wage war on neighboring villages.

On the eve of a conflict, the king sought his counsel. The cripple replied, “You can kill one ant, but all the others will sting you,” meaning that attacking a village would provoke the reaction of all its allies. Instead, to rule, one had to divide. He then suggested that the king get invited to lunch by the enemy ruler.

The host, wishing to show his disdain, offered a meager meal. When it was time to return the invitation, the cripple advised his king to prepare a lavish feast: “That way, he won’t find the meal as meager as an ant in a lion’s mouth.”

The guest was so astonished by such generosity that hostility turned into friendship, and war was avoided.

Upon his death, the king wept for his wisest counselor—the one who, though born crippled, had walked the paths of wisdom better than anyone else.