A reader replied to my post from yesterday with a brilliant remark:
“I have elephant skin — but also an elephant memory!”
It made me smile — and think.
In leadership, that combination is more than just witty. It is essential. Thick skin protects you from petty criticism, noise, and the occasional stray arrow that comes with being visible. But memory — memory is where judgment takes root.
Thin-skinned? Then steer clear of cacti.
If you are thin-skinned and take offence easily, that is your issue — and daily life must be rather challenging.
Most likely, your everyday experience is an emotional obstacle course: half-heard phrases twisted in your mind, glances misread, and inner turmoil sparked by someone who said “hello” without smiling.
“Many enemies, much honour”
This phrase was made famous in Italy by Benito Mussolini, head of the Italian Fascist regime before WWII.
He used it as a slogan for the regime to turn opposition into a badge of pride.
It is a phrase that still fascinates, especially in environments where leadership is seen as dominance, conflict, and conquest.
“Cu sapi caminari, si fa l’ura ca voli.”
He who knows how to walk, makes time work for him
(Sicilian proverb)
There comes a point — in leadership, and in life — when the clock no longer dictates your worth.
Punctuality, once treated as a badge of discipline, reveals itself for what it often is: a tool, not a virtue. A great leader knows that arriving “on time” is not about minutes. It is about momentum, intention, and the clarity of purpose brought into the room.
Cu avi cuscenza, parra sulu.
“He who has a conscience, speaks to himself”
(Sicilian proverb)
It is not madness. It is experience, reasoning with itself.
There are moments in life when the most qualified person to give you advice — is you.
“Cu sapi cumannari, sapi puru ubbidiri.”
He who knows how to lead, must also know how to follow.
This Sicilian proverb is not about weakness, but about wisdom.
True leadership is not about control — it is about discernment.
The best executives do not pretend to know everything. They listen.
It often feels that having only one problem should make life simpler. In reality, it can make things harder.
A single difficulty becomes a monolith — dominating our attention, resisting resolution, distorting our focus.
But when problems multiply, something unexpected happens: they begin to interact.
What once seemed insoluble in isolation becomes manageable within a broader system.
The complexity itself creates space for new perspectives, new patterns, new solutions.
“Vali chiu un colpu di mastru, chi dui di manuali.”
(“One strike from a master is worth more than two from a workman.”)
This Sicilian proverb distils into a single line a profound truth: efficiency is not about laziness — it is about mastery.
A single, well-judged action from someone who knows their craft often proves more effective than repeated efforts by someone less skilled. The aim is not simply to do less, but to achieve more with less.
“Cu mangia fa muddichi.”
He who eats makes crumbs, says a Sicilian proverb.
This is not about being the cleverest in the room.
It is about creating a system where speed, experimentation, and continuous learning are at the core.
Progress is rarely clean.
But mess means movement, and the real question is: how fast can you and your team learn, adapt, and evolve—faster than your competitors?
The door that draws no knocks soon loses its shine
(Tinta la porta a cui ‘un tuppulìa nuddu)
(Sicilian proverb)
“We are not alone in the universe: they are deliberately avoiding us.”
(A tongue-in-cheek take on the so-called Fermi Paradox)
The phrase is provocative, ironic — and, in a way, deeply human.
The Sicilian proverb amplifies its meaning with a flash of folk wisdom that is as brutal as it is truthful.
“Cu ‘un fa nenti ‘un sbaglia nenti.”
(Sicilian proverb)
He who does nothing makes no mistakes.
But he does not win, either.
“We did not make any obvious mistakes, and yet, somehow, we lost.”
(Stephen Elop, CEO of Nokia, during the 2013 press conference announcing Nokia’s cellular division acquisition by Microsoft)
This is, in essence, the story of Nokia — once a global emblem of reliability, innovation and leadership.
A respected company, with no major missteps.
And yet, the world was racing forward.
And they stood still.
I often mention Sicilian as a joyful blend of languages, with Latin at its core.
Of course, it is not the only language shaped by such a pot-pourri of influences. Let us not forget English.
I recently came across this humorous description on War History Online:
“English is what happens when Vikings learn Latin and use it to shout at Germans, and then the French shout back.”
Just came across a job ad for a Latin teacher.
The post specifies that the ideal candidate must be a native speaker.
A textbook case, really, of “engage brain before opening mouth.”
(Yes, yes—I get it.
Someone probably copied and pasted the requirements from another language job post.
Still, the opportunity is far too tempting not to have a little fun with it.)
Thirty years ago, at the height of the major anti-mafia trials, I took a French friend to attend a hearing of one of the so-called maxi-trials.
He was a doctor, staying at my home during a holiday in Sicily, and had expressed a wish to see for himself what actually happened inside an Italian courtroom—those same courtrooms that featured so often in news bulletins across Europe.
“The troubles of the pot are known only to the spoon that stirs it”
This Sicilian proverb is a small life lesson disguised as culinary wisdom.
The metaphor is clear and striking: a pot may seem calm from the outside, but only the spoon that stirs it knows what is truly going on inside — whether the food is sticking, whether the bottom is burning, whether the flavours are blending harmoniously or whether everything is about to be ruined.
With the unification of 1861, the Italian state was born politically, within borders broadly similar to those we know today.
But political unification did not bring with it a shared destiny. In fact, just as Italy was being made, millions of Italians began to leave it.
Official stats start in 1876. Before 1861, individual migrations had already occurred for religious, economic or political reasons. But it was only after unification that mass emigration took shape—a phenomenon that would last more than a century and profoundly transform the country’s demography, economy, and collective memory.
“A li poviri e a li sbinturati, ci chiovi ‘nta lu culu macari assittati.”
(To the poor and the unfortunate, it rains in their backside even when they are sitting down.)
This Sicilian proverb, coarse in its language but razor-sharp in its insight, is one of the most striking expressions of the island’s folk wisdom.
Beneath its apparent vulgarity lies a bitter and universal truth: when fate turns hostile, there is no reprieve.
Even in moments that ought to offer shelter or respite, misfortune still finds a way to strike.
“Cui veni appressu, cunta li pedati”
(Who comes after counts the footprints)
This Sicilian proverb is a gem of folk wisdom, steeped in bitterness, realism, and a certain touch of sarcasm.
Literally, it means that whoever comes after must reckon with the footprints left behind—but the metaphor runs far deeper.
It refers to those who, acting in the present, show no concern for the future consequences of their actions, leaving the thankless task of repairing the damage to those who follow.
Yesterday’s procrastination is today’s “oh-no, shit! oh-no, shit! oh-no, shit!”
It always starts innocently: “I will handle it tomorrow.”
A minor delay, a harmless pause, a well-earned break—perfectly reasonable.
There is time, after all. A whole week. Maybe more. The future feels infinite when you are ignoring it.
Then, in a blink, tomorrow turns into today, and that gentle deferment mutates into a first-class emergency.
Deadlines tower, reminders blare, and your earlier confidence melts into panicked typing, sweaty temples, and curses mumbled at your past self.
In those days…
“En ce temps-là, la vie était plus belle
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui.”
“In those days, life was more beautiful,
and the sun burned more fiercely than it does today.”