In the rolling hills of a sun-drenched village, where dust danced on the wind and baobab trees whispered stories to the clouds, lived a donkey named Jabu. He was old, with a greyed coat and tired eyes. The other animals mocked him gently.
“He’s too slow.”
“He’s just a beast of burden.”
“He carries, but never leads.”
And so Jabu walked in silence—day after day—carrying firewood, water, and sometimes the laughter of children.
But Jabu had a secret.
He listened to the wind.
He had learned its voice when he was just a foal. The wind would hum warnings, whisper news, and carry scents from faraway lands. Jabu never spoke of it—only listened, always watching the sky.
One season, the clouds vanished. The earth cracked. The crops withered.
The villagers and animals grew desperate.
“We must find water,” cried the chief.
“Or we will not survive,” murmured the gazelle.
The birds flew far and returned with nothing. The elephant stomped the ground, hoping to unearth a spring. The lion roared at the sun.
Then Jabu, slow and steady, stepped forward.
“I will go,” he said.
The others chuckled.
“You? You barely move.”
“You are not a seeker.”
But the wind whispered again. And Jabu followed.
He walked for days. Through dust. Through thorns. Through silence.
Then, one dawn, he stopped. His ears twitched. The wind curled around him like an old friend. He stomped the ground and brayed.
Water.
He had found it. A deep spring, hidden beneath rock and sand.
The villagers dug. The water gushed. Life returned.
From that day, Jabu was no longer just the donkey. He was the Listener of the Wind.
And when the breeze moved, everyone turned to hear what it might say—through Jabu’s ears.
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Moral Lessons:
1. Wisdom isn’t in how fast you move, but how well you listen.
2. Never underestimate those who walk quietly—they often carry the loudest truths.
3. Sometimes, the one everyone overlooks holds the key to everyone’s survival.
*The story is collected from social media
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