From 2007 to 2009, I studied forestry at Zambia Forestry College
in Kitwe’s Mwekera, a transformative experience that earned me the stripes to
be called a ‘Kapenda Mabula’ (Tree Leaves Accountant). It was
baptism by fire, with 16 courses to tackle in the first term alone. Among them
was Beekeeping, a niche course at the time but has revealed profound metaphors
for leadership, human potential and social cohesion in retrospect. Beekeeping,
also known as apiculture, is a vital practice with multifaceted benefits that
range from honey production to forest conservation. We learnt about
things like honey bee biology and behavior, apiary management, harvesting
quality honey, beekeeping equipment, and addressing problems such as bee pests,
predators, and diseases. Recently, it is being promoted more as a tool for
forest conservation and sustainable livelihoods for communities.
This course was anchored by a very good man who went by the name
Benious Ikachana. God bless him.
Now, honey bees are social insects, which means that they live
together in large, well-organized family groups. Social insects are highly
evolved insects that engage in a variety of complex tasks not practiced by the
multitude of solitary insects. Communication, complex nest construction,
environmental control, defense and division of the labor are just some of the
behaviors that honey bees have developed to exist successfully in social
colonies. These fascinating behaviors make social insects in general, and bees
in particular, among the most fascinating creatures on earth.
In the early 20th century, French mining engineer Henri Fayol
developed what we globally call The 14 Principles of Management. Upon examining
these principles, however, one will realize that they mirror the natural
behaviors of social insects like honeybees. Bees, not Fayol, should be
considered the true pioneers of Modern Management Theory, but true to the age
old saying, "Until the bee learns to write its story, the tale will always
glorify Henri Fayol."
A bee colony typically consists of three kinds of adult bees:
workers (all females), drones (the males) and a (single) queen. A serious caste
system is observed which is also called eusocial. Several thousand worker bees
cooperate in nest building, food collection, and brood (offspring) rearing.
Each member has a definite task to perform, related to its adult age. But
surviving and reproducing take the combined efforts of the entire colony.
Individual bees (workers, drones, and queens) cannot survive without the
support of the colony.
The queen has two primary functions: one is reproduction and the
second is producing pheromones that serve as a social “glue” unifying and
helping to give individual identity to a bee colony.
When the queen bee (leader) dies, however, bees don’t descend into
panic or despair or succession conflicts like we usually witness in humans.
Instead, they respond with purpose, revealing a profound lesson about
leadership, potential, and the power of nurture. This natural process, both
scientific and poetic, offers a blueprint for how humans can cultivate
greatness in themselves and others.
The Transition
The death of a queen is a pivotal moment for a beehive. Without
her, the colony’s rhythm falters as her pheromones, which unify and direct the
hive, fade, and her egg-laying ceases, threatening the future. Yet, the hive
doesn’t collapse. With remarkable resilience, worker bees begin a deliberate
process to create a new queen. This isn’t a frantic scramble but a calculated
act of adaptation, driven by instinct and collective purpose.
From a sea of ordinary female larvae, a few are chosen, not
because they’re inherently exceptional, but because they have potential. These
larvae, no older than three days, are indistinguishable from those destined to
become workers. What sets them apart isn’t fate or lineage but a single,
transformative act: they are fed royal jelly. This is a nutrient-rich secretion
produced by nurse bees. This “nectar of transformation” rewires their
development, turning a common larva into a queen capable of leading the hive.
Nurture Over Nature
The creation of a queen is a typical example of nurture over
nature. In bees, any female larva has the genetic potential to become a queen,
but only those fed royal jelly undergo the epigenetic changes that unlock this
destiny. This special diet triggers the expression of genes that lead to a
larger body, reproductive organs, and a lifespan far longer than that of a
worker bee. A queen bee lives up to five years compared to a life expectancy of
six weeks for worker bees.
Royal jelly isn’t magic; it’s a concentrated blend of proteins,
sugars, and vitamins that fuels this metamorphosis. The chosen larvae are
bathed in it, housed in larger cells to accommodate their growth. Over days,
they transform, emerging as queens ready to restore order. Often, multiple
larvae are nurtured as potential queens, but only one will reign. Typically,
the first to emerge eliminate her rivals to claim her role.
This process underscores a critical truth: leaders aren’t born;
they’re made. The hive doesn’t wait for a predestined leader to appear.
Instead, it invests in the ordinary, providing extraordinary support to unlock
latent potential.
Leaders Are Born from Crises
In the hive, a queen’s role is to bring stability and continuity.
She lays thousands of eggs daily, ensuring the colony’s survival, and her
pheromones maintain social cohesion. When a new queen takes her place, the
hive’s rhythm returns as workers resume their tasks, and the hum of activity
fills the silence left by her predecessor. Crisis, in this context, doesn’t
create chaos; it creates leadership.
This resilience is a powerful metaphor for human systems. Like the
hive, we often face moments of loss and disruption, whether it’s the departure
of a leader, a personal setback or a societal challenge. The hive teaches us
that these moments are opportunities to cultivate new leaders, not from a
select few but from the many. Greatness isn’t confined to those with titles or
pedigrees; it can emerge from anyone given the right support.
Leaders Are Among Us
The hive’s lesson is clear: potential is abundant, but it requires
nurturing to flourish. Just as royal jelly transforms a larva, extraordinary
care, education, mentorship and encouragement can unlock human potential. Don’t
let potential die on your watch. Do something about it and when you are old and
grey, you will be glad that you did. Too often, we limit our search for leaders
to those who already stand out, overlooking the quiet potential in the
ordinary. What if we invested in people the way the hive does, feeding them the
resources and belief they need to grow?
This isn’t just about individuals; it’s about communities. The
hive thrives because every worker contributes to the queen-making process, from
producing royal jelly to tending the larvae. Similarly, we can build systems
that uplift everyone like schools that inspire, workplaces that empower and
societies that provide opportunities for all. When we “feed each other better
futures,” we create a cycle of growth and leadership.
I will conclude by emphasizing that we need to rethink how we
identify and nurture potential. Let’s commit to being the nurse bees of our
world, offering the “royal jelly” of support, resources and belief to those
around us. By doing so, we will raise more leaders who emerge not because they
were destined but because they were given the chance to become. While talent and hard work are universal, opportunity is not. Someone has to give it before the fire goes out while waiting for a stroke of serendipity. Our humanity is
contingent on the humanity of others. I think it is in everyone’s interest to
contribute to social advancement by thinking of ways to create more leaders.
The future is bleak unless we can crack this code. In a world full of
uncertainties, the beekeeping lessons I learnt from Mwekera offers a timeless
truth: crisis can be a catalyst for renewal, and leadership can come from
anywhere.
