Long ago, in a quiet village beneath the red hills of Kajiado, there lived an old drummer named Mzee Lenkai. His drum was famous—not because it was big or beautiful, but because every time he played it, people felt truth in their hearts.

One dry season, a proud young warrior named Saitoti challenged the old man.

“Your drum is old and weak. I have strength, I have speed—why do people listen to you more than me?”

Mzee Lenkai smiled, tapping the drum gently.
Dum… dum… dum.
The sound rolled across the village like footsteps of an elder spirit.

“Strength is loud,” the old man said, “but wisdom is heard.”

To teach him a lesson, Mzee Lenkai invited Saitoti on a journey. They walked to the plains where the wind whispered through the grass.

There, the old man placed his drum on the ground.

“Beat this drum,” he said, “and command the wind.”

Saitoti laughed. He struck the drum with all his might.
DUM! DUM! DUM!
But the wind did not move.

Then the old man lifted the drum gently and played a soft rhythm, the one he had learned from his father, who had learned from his father before him.

The wind stirred. The grass bowed. Even the birds quieted.

Saitoti watched in awe.

“How did you do that?”

Mzee Lenkai looked at him warmly.

“My son, a drum does not obey power.
It obeys purpose.
When your heart is calm, your world listens.”

Saitoti bowed to the old man, finally understanding that true strength comes from within, not from noise.

And from that day, the young warrior carried two things wherever he went—his spear, and the lesson of the wise drum.