Socialite who dedicated her life to save donkeys
JANE COMMON travelled to Marrakech to see the work of Spana, the charity for the working animals of the world, following in the footsteps of the devoted Englishwoman who founded it nearly a century ago...
THEY ARE the stars of our Christmas carols and nativity plays but, in some parts of the world, the donkey’s lot is a not a happy one. Morocco’s one and half million working animals toil hard – the stoical donkeys, laden with panniers or pulling heavy carts, especially so. In the early 1920s, Kate Hosali travelled across North Africa with her daughter Nina, crossing the Sahara by donkey, mule and camel. The women were bewitched by the souks and fascinated by the people but when they returned home to London it was the memory of the donkeys that played most vividly in their minds.
“The donkeys were so picturesque, so willing, tripping along on those dainty little feet,” Nina wrote. “And yet we marvelled at the size and weight of the loads and the way the man sat on top. We had seen wounds on their backs, long unhealed burns on their sides and stomachs deliberately inflicted with red-hot irons as a supposed cure for some ill or other.”
Kate, a formidable woman who’d brought up Nina single-handedly, wrote letters, raised funds and, on October 2, 1923, the inaugural meeting of the Society for the Protection of Animals in North Africa (Spana) was held.
Kate moved to Marrakech, treating donkeys, camels and mules in the souks, where she was known as Toubiba (lady doctor in Arabic), and carried on her work through the Second World War.
Kate, who died in 1944 and is buried in the city she made her home, would be proud of what her small charity has become today. Spana now provides free veterinary treatment to working animals in 25 countries around the world.
The Sunday Express visited its centre in Marrakech – the largest of the five it operates in Morocco – where at nine in the morning a queue of patients had already formed. There’s a lame horse, a mule that pulls a vegetable cart, two donkeys – and a lady knitting beside a pink plastic cat box.
“This is an equine hospital but when people arrive with their pets we can’t turn them away,” said Professor Hassan Alyakine, Spana’s country director in Morocco.
In the in-patients stables, a boisterous six-month donkey foal hops around in fine fettle – his mother’s the patient, standing unflinching in the yard as vets examine the wound on her lower leg.
She was tethered so tightly that rope sliced into the skin, just above her hoof, causing an infection – without emergency treatment at the centre, she’d have lost her foot and then, of no use to her owner, faced an uncertain future.
As it is, with daily dressing changes and antibiotics injections, she’s back on her feet and she – and her foal – will be discharged in a month.
It isn’t cruelty that’s behind the donkeys’ suffering – it’s poverty. Totally reliant on the income their donkeys secure, some owners work them too hard – others can’t afford new saddles to replace worn, uncomfortable ones. Many donkeys arrive with agonising mouth sores caused by rusty homemade bits.
In exchange for free treatment, Spana vets confiscate the old bits and give owners softer, modern ones. They don’t lecture, preferring gentle persuasion. After all, the healthier the donkey the more productive it will be, and the more bread for the family’s table.
Fifty-five miles from Marrakech is the town of Chemaia, which few tourists ever visit. Waiting to set out on his day’s labours is Dante, whose long days of toil are typical of his brethren. Dante, 10, is a donkey-of-all-trades, standing on a corner waiting for locals to hire him to carry fruit and vegetables to market. Through Dante’s efforts, his owner, Abdullah, ekes out a living.
Today, Dante is working for Spana, carrying rubbish to the tip and, a resilient fellow, he’s popular at the centre. In fact, he starred in a Spana video showing how hard Moroccan donkeys work.
A cameraman followed him on an average day and found he walked 40,000 steps in blistering heat with a heavy load.
There’s a foal in the Chemaia centre, too, only a month old. Najia, which roughly translates as survivor, was brought in a fortnight earlier, says vet Kamal, limping after a kick. When he examined her, he discovered she’d also contracted an infection as part of her umbilical cord was still in her body.
She needed an hour-long operation under general anaesthetic to remove it – and her protective mum, who refused to leave her side, had to be sedated, too. Now Najia is well on the road to recovery. She’s jumping around the yard, pirouetting to prove the point and in a week’s time, she’ll be discharged.
Mesquima, a pretty donkey with sorrowful brown eyes framed by enviably long lashes, is also an in-patient in Chemaia after her owner brought her in suffering with stomach pains.
“This is why,” said vet assistant Driss, showing me a twisted rope of grey plastic removed from her stomach – the bag Mesquima had eaten giving her a case of colic so severe her life hung in the balance.
Sadly, working donkeys, often malnourished, forage for food among piles of rubbish. But it’s good news for