Facing Life’s Lions: Lessons from the Water Buffalo

Facing Life’s Lions: Lessons from the Water Buffalo

Written by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Unknown fact: When threatened by lions, a water buffalo will not always run. In fact, sometimes it stops stone-still locking eyes with the predator, refusing to flinch. Its strength isn’t just in muscle, but in memory. It remembers that it has survived before. That it is not alone. That behind it stands a herd, a history, and a sacred instinct to endure.

That stopped me in my tracks the first time I heard it. Not because of the animal but because I saw myself in it.

Life, for me, has often felt like standing on open ground with lions circling. I’ve had days when betrayal breathed hot on my neck, when loneliness clawed at my ribs, when my reflection didn’t even look like someone who deserved to make it. But something ancient in me something holy refused to run.

I learned that stillness from Celestine, my grandmother. And not just the kind of stillness that sits quiet in a rocking chair but the kind that simmers slow, like her sweet potatoes. She didn’t just make sweet potatoes. She made healing. Thick slices caramelized with butter and brown sugar, crusted with cinnamon, and baked with a prayer so deep, you tasted comfort in every bite. Her pies were the best, just like her gumbo rich, seasoned from the soul, and stirred with stories. That woman didn’t just cook. She ministered through a cast iron pot.

She used to say, “Baby, don’t let the fire scare you  it’s the only thing that turns raw into ready.” I didn’t know at the time that she was seasoning more than Sunday dinner. She was seasoning me.

And then there was my Uncle Craig. A strong man with a voice like gravel and thunder rough but real. One afternoon, after I’d been through something I was too ashamed to say out loud, he found me outside staring at nothing. He didn’t ask questions. He just lit a cigarette, sat beside me, and said, “Ain’t no lion out there bigger than what God put in you.”

That moment stays with me. Because sometimes healing doesn't come through long speeches or perfect timing it comes through presence. Through sitting with someone in silence until they remember their roar.

You see, the world doesn’t always give you space to be tender. Especially when you’re expected to be tough. But Celestine and Craig taught me that strength doesn't mean you never feel pain it means you don't let pain make your decisions.

I remember walking home alone in Louisiana, humid air sticking to my skin, dreams heavy in my chest. I didn’t have answers. I didn’t have peace. But I had memories of Celestine’s kitchen filled with the scent of cloves and nutmeg, of Craig’s hands calloused from work but gentle when he handed me a plate, of myself as a child, trying to make sense of a world that didn’t always feel like mine.

And in those memories, I found more than survival. I found sacred ground.

Let me tell you something most people won’t admit: some of the best people you’ll ever meet have cried in silence and smiled in storms. They’ve walked through fire with smoke still in their clothes and come out not asking for applause but for peace.

So if you’re reading this with worry tightening your chest or grief waking you up at night, let me remind you of something…

You’ve already faced lions before.

The fact that you’re still here means there’s a strength in you louder than fear. It may not shout. It may whisper. It may hide in old gospel songs, in the way your mama said your name, or in how you still show up for others even when you're barely holding on yourself.

Stillness is not weakness. It’s sacred defiance.

And when the lions come and they will remember the water buffalo. Remember your grandmother’s gumbo. Remember the silence that saves. Remember that peace is not the absence of pain it’s the refusal to bow to it.

Life may come swinging with claws and teeth, but so did the ancestors who walked before you. You carry their stillness. Their sacred. Their strength.

Stand still, child of the Divine. The herd is behind you. The soul is within you.

And the lion? He’s already lost.