Donkey’s years ago, my pal let me feel the wind in my hair

IWAS interested to read the caption to an unusual photograph in one of the week’s daily newspapers. It was a picture of a farmer using a donkey to plough a field of what looked like lettuce. The caption said it had been taken at the National School of Donkey Farming in France.

My interest was aroused because I rather like donkeys and actually had a pet donkey when I was a little boy growing up on the farm. His name was Tony.

My father built me a little cart and I used to travel all over the neighbourhood on it, with Tony trotting along in front. He was usually a bit reluctant to go travelling on a hot Karoo day, but the moment we turned and started heading home Tony’s ears would prick up and he broke into a very brisk gallop. Home was where the food was.

Those gravel roads were not particularly smooth and when we hit a corrugated patch we spent most of the time airborne. It was frankly terrifying.

My childhood journeys might have been less hectic if I had the opportunity of attending a donkey school like the one in France. Anyway, it’s good to know at least one country is taking donkeys seriously as working farm animals.

I think we tend to regard them with some scorn in South Africa, although there is a donkey retirement home near McGregor where they look after old donkeys. Often the animals have become too old to work and are simply abandoned by uncaring owners.

I saw a number of working donkeys during two Greek holidays some years ago. At Lindos on the island of Rhodes there’s a team of donkeys that carry tourists up a steep path to an ancient Crusader castle at the summit.

Once they have deposited their passengers the donkeys just turn round and wander back down the path on their own.

Lazy tourists are happy to do the downhill trip on foot, but are prepared to pay for donkey transport on the upward journey.

I wonder whether there’s a donkey farming school in Greece and whether they issue official donkey driver’s licences.

Tony retired when I went off to boarding school and was sent to live among the other farm animals.

Instead of enjoying a peaceful retirement he became bored and started savaging the sheep. (Did you know donkeys could be vicious?)

He was taken out of retirement and went to work for a brickyard in Noupoort, much to the relief of my father’s tormented sheep.

Sometimes when I am stuck in one of our endless city traffic jams, I wonder whether it would be more efficient to saddle up a donkey and take to the pavement, plodding slowly past all the stuck traffic.

We’d probably arrive at our destination sooner, but where do you park your donkey?

Last Laugh

After watching the rugby, Jimmy met his pals in the bar and they started telling each other about their own rugby days.

“When I was at university I was single handedly responsible for UCT beating Stellenbosch that year,” said Jimmy.

“Oh really?” said one of his pals. “Which side were you playing for?”