Ahọ́n irọ̀ ni ń pa ẹni ṣáájú; irọ̀ kì í gbàgbé ẹni tó ba sọ ọ.”
“A lying tongue destroys its owner first; a lie never forgets the person who uttered it.”
The Weight of a Lying Tongue and the Cost of Hidden Truths
Among the many Yoruba proverbs that teach moral discipline, few speak as sharply as: “Ahọ́n irọ̀ ni ń pa ẹni ṣáájú; irọ̀ kì í gbàgbé ẹni tó ba sọ ọ.” It is a powerful reminder that lies may appear small, harmless, or strategic in the moment, but they return with consequences—usually for the very person who told them. The proverb teaches that deceit is self-destructive, and the memory of a lie often outlives its moment.
In relationships between young people and elders, employees and employers, apprentices and masters, or followers and leaders, honesty is a currency that buys trust. Once that trust is broken, even unintentionally, repairing it is difficult. This is because, as the Yoruba also say, “Ohun tí irọ̀ bá dá kì í pé”—what is built on lies cannot endure.
A real-life example is seen in the story of Elizabeth Holmes, the former CEO of Theranos. As a young entrepreneur, she captivated investors with promises of revolutionary blood-testing technology. But when the truth about the company’s failures emerged, it was not the employees or the investors who faced the harshest consequences—it was Holmes herself. Her “lying tongue” destroyed her credibility, career, and freedom. The lie did not forget the person who told it.
Closer to everyday life, consider the story of a young apprentice mechanic in Ibadan who once lied to a customer that a car part cost nearly twice its original price. He meant no harm—just a quick profit. But the customer later discovered the truth through another mechanic. In anger, the customer exposed the apprentice to the workshop owner. The master was disappointed, not just because of the lie, but because the apprentice had betrayed the workshop’s reputation. The result was immediate dismissal. The apprentice later admitted that the shame of being known as dishonest followed him for years. Indeed, “Irọ̀ kì í gbàgbé ẹni tó ba sọ ọ”—a lie never forgets its source.
In professional settings, many employees underestimate the long-term cost of a small falsehood. A wrong attendance entry, a falsified report, a hidden mistake, or an exaggerated achievement may seem harmless. But lies create a pattern, and when exposed, they overshadow even genuine accomplishments. Leaders may forgive mistakes, but dishonesty shakes confidence. This is why companies value integrity sometimes more than talent.
Another powerful example comes from the world of sports. Lance Armstrong, once celebrated as a cycling legend, built a global empire on fame, endorsements, and admiration. But the moment the truth emerged—that he had lied for years about using performance-enhancing drugs—the empire collapsed. He lost titles, sponsorships, respect, and public trust. His talent did not save him; his lies destroyed him.
This proverb teaches a universal truth: deceit is a seed that grows branches bigger than the one who planted it. Whether in school, workplace, friendship, family, or leadership, lying rarely harms only others—it harms the liar first.
In relationships where guidance is essential—between masters and apprentices, supervisors and staff, elders and youth—honesty is the bridge that keeps learning possible. When a follower lies, they close the door to mentorship. When an employee lies, they block opportunities. When a youth lies, they silence the wisdom of elders who would have supported them.
The message is clear: truth may be difficult, but lies are dangerous. A truthful tongue may face discomfort, but a lying tongue faces destruction. And long after the lie is spoken, the memory of it lingers.
Therefore, let everyone—young or old, worker or leader—embrace honesty as a lifelong discipline. For although truth may test you, lies will sentence you.