We had seen other farmers walking alongside their donkeys every day over the years even taking them into town, they almost looked like good old friends. Their donkeys seemed to respect them and obeyed their every command. Not our donkey.
Our donkey was wild, stubborn and outright hostile. We could now see how Mariu was “eaten”. If Mariu’s donkey was anything like our donkey, then we could understand how it all went down. We had over the years scoffed at our mothers story and deemed it made up, but it seems our mother was right about donkeys. However, we could not admit defeat, no matter how hostile our donkey was. Why? After pushing for a donkey for years, and our penny pinching, tough as nails mother finally relenting, there was no way of telling her we could not handle the donkey. If we did, it was not the donkey that was going to “eat” us, but our mother would.
So, my brothers decided to discipline our donkey like an errant child. They whupped it to submission. Before long, our donkey started obeying their commands. They started using it for milk delivery and other chores like fetching water and their lives became so much easier. But for me, I am truly my mothers’ daughter. Thank goodness I did not have any chores that required interaction with the donkey. I never went anywhere near the donkey, not ever, we just sized each other up from a distance, and I was perfectly happy with that.
