An
aphorism from
Zambia. In
Nyanja, it reads a more concise
Safunsa amadya pula. The story from whence it came is something akin to a
fable, minus the animals. It can be told many ways; this is mine.
A poor man from town learns his parents have died, and moves back to their village to inherit their holdings. He has been living in town since childhood, and despite his poverty and ignorance of country life, he looks down upon the villagers living around him.
Unwilling to condescend to ask a simple question, the man resorts to eavesdropping on his new neighbors in hopes of learning the rural ropes. At dawn one morning, he sees two farmers thwacking at a bee hive in a tree. Hiding behind a distant bush, the man observes the pair killing the bees, breaking up the hive, and eagerly stuffing the pieces into their mouths. Hungry for breakfast himself, the man waits until the two have left, and then runs to what's left of the hive. He chews and swallows piece after piece of the foul-tasting stuff -- mystified by the bad taste of farmers.
One who doesn't ask, eats wax.