The Boy with the Donkey

At night, travelling on the road to Beitbridge you often come across groups of donkeys, very difficult to see in the darkness as they have no reflectors behind the retina so their eyes do not glow in the dark when car headlights fall across them. 

As we know, donkeys have always been beasts of burden.

Also on the road to Beitbridge, before the Lion and Elephant Hotel (a good overnight stop), was a farm owned by a grandmother who lived with her grandson. Lions invaded her farm and were killing some of the animals, so two lion hunters were asked to come and get rid of them. They brought an old blind donkey with them to use as bait.

The grandson fell in love with the old donkey. 

He looked after his new found friend, sat on his back, walked with him and talked to him. One of the hunters came to collect the donkey and the boy pleaded with him not to take the donkey away. The hunter said that he would leave it and the boy was delighted and relieved.

A few days later the second hunter, an older man, arrived not knowing about the previous conversations and he had come to take the donkey away.

Once again the boy pleaded with him to please leave it. “Please, please, please!” The boy’s grandmother joined in with his pleas and explained that the boy loved the donkey as a friend and would be heartbroken. Eventually the hunter gave in and said that he would leave the donkey.

Not long after that, the grandmother and her grandson were ordered to leave the farm. They were given 3 months to get off the farm. They had to move the donkey in a specially secured truck to their new home. When they were resettled, the boy acquired two more donkeys so his little group of donkeys expanded. The old blind donkey lived happily for quite some time in his new surroundings and eventually died peacefully.

The grandmother wants to make a donkey sanctuary as a donkey reserve has now been started in Zimbabwe.

*****

The Donkey – by G.K Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry

And ears like errant wings,

The devils walking parody

On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me; I am dumb,

I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

And palms before my feet.