Village Shepherd

I hadn't long been born when I first saw my mother being savagely beaten by a man with a stick. She was weak after my birth, but the man wanted to ride her. When she simply stood, unable to move, he beat her and called her names. It was a cruel entry into the world for me. As best I could in my baby mind, I vowed then and there never to let any human being treat me as that man had treated my mother.

As I grew into a sturdy colt, I made good my vow. Whenever a human being came near me, I would kick up my back legs and race around the field. I soon got a name for being wild and untamable, and before very long all human beings kept their distance from me. Some of them would come with sweet words, holding food in their hands for me to eat, trying to coax me into a relationship with them, but I always stood my ground. Often my mother would sigh and shake her head, worrying over what would become of me with such violent and unpredictable ways, but I would bare my donkey teeth and throw back my head and bray as loudly as I could in defiance of every human being in the whole wide world. And nobody ever came near enough to beat me with a stick.

One day I saw two men approaching. They sweet-talked my mother with gifts of food, but I saw the rope they had, hidden behind their backs. I edged closer. Even with my vicious kicks and my large teeth which I never hesitated to sink into human flesh, I remained very fond of my mother and I wasn't about to let two human beings take her away from me. I nuzzled against her side, giving her my warmth and my strength, but all the time keeping a wary eye on those two human beings.

How they did it I shall never know, for it all happened so quickly. One moment I was pressing against my mother, the next I had a rope slipped around my neck, and I never saw it coming. I bucked and reared, kicked and brayed, my eyes rolling backwards in fear and anger, but those men hung grimly onto the end of the rope and I couldn't break free.

Then I planted my four feet firmly on the ground, and refused to budge. I waited for the stick, for I knew from long experience of watching other donkeys that those who refused to bow to their human masters were always beaten, but to my surprise nothing happened. Instead I heard soft and gentle voices speaking quietly to me, and when I tired of all my kicking and prancing, a human hand began to stroke my neck and fondle my ears.

I was so surprised, that before I knew what I was doing I found myself following the men, allowing myself to be led by the rope around my neck. Eventually we reached another man, and I'd never met anyone like this human being. His eyes shone with kindness, and his touch was like the caress of a soft breeze. When they threw a rough coat onto my back, I began to buck out of habit, but the man looked into my eyes and there was nothing in his eyes but deep, deep love for me.

Suddenly I knew that I wanted this man close to me all my life, and when he sat on my back I was filled with pride and love. He was the first human being ever to have ridden me, and it was wonderful. Clearly everyone else thought it was wonderful too, for they all spread their coats on the ground for me to walk on, and they waved branches above their heads and began to sing and dance in their happiness.

I felt as though I was a shining white charger instead of a humble donkey, for I knew I was carrying a king. I was bursting with pride that I, the unapproachable and vicious colt, had been chosen by this man for his ride into Jerusalem, and it changed my life.

When the ride was over and he slipped from my back, he took time to thank me gravely and make sure I had food and water and was well rubbed down after my exertions. Then I was led back to my field and my mother. I never saw that man again, but I was a different donkey after that. All my suspicions of human beings fell away, and I began to look forward to carrying them on my back or helping them by carrying loads for them.

The rest of my life passed uneventfully, except for one strange thing. After carrying that man, my own grey-brown coat changed just slightly. Down the length of my back a long, black mark appeared, and another across my shoulders, making the shape of a cross. And strangely enough, all my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren were born with that same cross. I wonder whether donkeys still have that cross today?