For most of my life, I thought Ubuntu was just a Linux operating system. I knew the software, I had used it, and I associated the word with technology, open source culture, and engineers who cared about building things together. What I did not know until recently was that Ubuntu existed long before computers, and that the word itself carries a human philosophy that quietly explains how I have always tried to work, lead, and show up with people.
I came across a story that anthropologists often share from Southern Africa, commonly linked to regions like Zambia and South Africa. It is not presented as a scientific experiment or a case study. It is shared as a moment. A lived example of how people see themselves in relation to one another. The story goes like this. An anthropologist was visiting a rural village and spent time observing children playing together in open land near a large tree. One day, the anthropologist placed a basket of fruit and sweets under that tree and lined the children up a short distance away. The instruction was simple. Whoever reached the basket first would get to keep everything inside.
If you grew up in a competitive environment, you can probably predict what should have happened next. A race. Someone sprinting ahead. Someone winning. Someone else losing. Elbows out. Eyes locked on the prize. That is how most of us were trained to think about success. Be faster. Be smarter. Be first. But that is not what happened in this village. Instead of racing against each other, the children looked at one another. They reached out. They held hands. And then they ran together, side by side, until they reached the basket.
When they arrived, there was no scramble. No grabbing. No argument. They sat down and shared the fruit equally. Everyone ate. Everyone smiled. When the anthropologist asked them why they did not compete, the children answered with a word that was natural to them but unfamiliar to many of us. Ubuntu. They followed it with a question that still lands heavy when you hear it. How can one of us be happy if the others are sad?
Ubuntu roughly translates to I am because we are. Or said another way, a person becomes a person through other people. Your humanity is not separate from mine. Your wellbeing is tied to mine. Your success does not cancel out mine. It either lifts all of us or it weakens the whole. This philosophy emphasizes shared responsibility, dignity, compassion, and the idea that no one truly thrives alone. It stands in contrast to extreme individualism, where progress is measured by how far ahead one person can get, regardless of the cost to others.
This way of thinking was later shared with the world by leaders like Desmond Tutu, particularly during South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation process. Ubuntu was not framed as a soft idea or a poetic slogan. It was treated as a practical way to repair a broken society by restoring human connection. The focus was not on erasing people or declaring winners and losers, but on helping a community heal together so that everyone could move forward with dignity intact.
When I learned the meaning behind Ubuntu, something clicked for me. Not because it was new, but because it gave language to instincts I already had. It explained why certain ways of working never sat right with me, even when they produced results on paper. In technology, I learned early on that building fast at the expense of people creates systems that eventually break. In real estate, I see the same thing play out. A deal can close, commissions can be paid, and numbers can look great, but if clients walk away confused, rushed, or feeling small, that outcome does not last. It shows up later as regret, mistrust, or silence when someone should have been a referral.
Ubuntu helped me articulate a simple rule I have followed without always naming it. If the people around me lose, I do not win. If someone feels pressured into a decision they do not understand, that is not success. If a client feels burned at the end of a process, the outcome does not matter, even if the market says otherwise. Shared outcomes build trust. Trust compounds. Short term wins that damage relationships eventually collapse under their own weight.
What I appreciate most about Ubuntu is its simplicity. There is no complex framework. No playbook. No motivational language. Just a clear reminder that progress is not about getting there first. It is about making sure everyone gets there intact. That applies to teams, families, clients, communities, and even competitors. It does not mean avoiding ambition. It means redefining what a real win looks like.
In a world that constantly rewards speed, noise, and personal branding, Ubuntu feels quietly radical. It asks us to slow down just enough to notice the people next to us. It asks leaders to protect trust before chasing metrics. It asks professionals to care about outcomes after the transaction, not just during it. And it asks each of us a simple question that those children asked without hesitation. How can one of us be happy if the others are sad?
Learning the story behind Ubuntu reminded me that the best work I have ever done came from shared effort, mutual respect, and a genuine desire to leave people better than I found them. That applies whether I am writing software, helping someone buy a home, or simply showing up in a conversation. Success that cannot be shared does not last. Success that lifts people tends to outlive us.
People first. Always.
If this resonates, I would genuinely like to hear where you have seen this philosophy show up in your own work or life.
