The Silent Donkey

Yousif held tightly onto the reigns as he strolled into a merchant town, a dusty oasis and respite from the deserts of Arabia along the spice route. Many-a-eye wandered towards his satchels filled with vanilla, salt and pistachios, along with the aromatic spices that gave away their presence. As he drove his donkey forward, eager to be out of danger, he stopped next to a bazaar where all sorts of merchandise were being traded hands, all under the watchful eyes of the royal soldiers tasked with ensuring all trades were taxed and contained no contrabands.

Named Ya’foor by his owner, the donkey watched as a domesticated camel suddenly acted berserk, flailing around and stomping, causing a ruckus in the market.

Yousif took off some satchels and patted his donkey’s back, coming back later with a pouch full of silver and a small bag of barley for his beast of burden.

He gave Ya’foor his food and sat down nearby to eat his own, which consisted of a bowl of soup, flat bread and some dried meat.

After dinner was finished, he tied Ya’foor to the stable stall post and retired to his bed for the night, eager to get back on the road the next morning to sell his wares at the next town along the way. As he lay on his bed, he remembered when he first purchased his donkey, paying fifty silver pieces up front from a local breeder. The investment had been fruitful, and Ya’foor had more than made up for his initial cost, allowing Yousif to turn a healthy profit.

The next day, Yousif untied Ya’foor and led him to the water trough where the donkey greedily drank his fill, knowing from experience that a long journey would be ahead. As Yousif got on his saddle and ushered Ya’foor on, the donkey stood rooted to the spot, unmoving and obviously frightened.

Sensing something was wrong, Yousif stroked his donkey’s ears and head, as if asking what was wrong.

Although Yousif could not see, Ya’foor could sense the glowing figure standing in the path, holding a sword shining with a similar light. No matter how hard Yousif tried to push his donkey forward, he would not budge, which ultimately saved his owner’s life unknowingly.

Slapping the donkey’s behind, Yousif had no choice but to turn and take an alternate route, which Ya’foor gladly accepted. Clearly angry and annoyed at his long-time companion, the pair rode in silence, exiting the town and heading off along the dusty path.

Using his head to nudge his owner’s leg, Ya’foor tried to explain why he wouldn’t take that path.

Barely glancing at his donkey, Yousif was still peeved at the whole ordeal and promised himself not to feed Yo’Foor any more treats for the week. After being nudged for the nineth or tenth time, he finally responded and stroked the donkey’s head, between the ears where Ya’foor liked it best.

As they rested on the road for the night, Yousif left the warmth of the fire and retreated to his tent, but not before saying goodnight to Ya’foor. The donkey lay down on his blanket and closed his eyes, dreaming of eating a variety of vegetables and fruits like apples from Canaan or sweet dates from Arabia.

Yousif woke up to the slimy kissing of his donkey, who wouldn’t stop until his owner was fully awake. Shooing off his affectionate animal, he wiped his face with a cloth before changing his clothes in preparation for the journey. As he packed up his tent and belongings and put them on Ya’foor, the donkey looked at a young boy walked along the path confidently. Hidden from Yousif’s eyes were the two radiant men following the boy, carrying flaming swords of light and dressed in white flowing robes. After giving a gnarled apple to Ya’foor, the pair headed off further into the desert, hoping to find valuable goods to sell such as ivory, ceramics and skillfully made weapons. The most lucrative commodity was by far, salt. Animals and men alike could not survive without it, and in the desert lifestyle, it was an absolute necessity.

Receiving another nudge from Ya’foor as if to tell him to keep his focus on the road and to stop daydreaming, Yousif understood and held tightly to the reigns, making sure they didn’t get lost. To get lost in the desert was literally a death warrant, as the unforgiving sands and stones have swallowed up many who were foolish enough to wander away from the path.

Taking a break by a stone cliff offering some shade from the scorching midday sun, the pair shared a flask of water, with Yousif pouring out some into a bowl for Ya’foor. He then double checked to ensure they had enough water till they reached their next stop, which was still half a day’s ride away. By now, Ya’foor’s refusal to move forward yesterday was all but forgotten and the affection between the owner and his animal were as tight as ever. Yousif in a way owed his livelihood on Ya’foor, and likewise Ya’foor depended on Yousif for everything from food and water to directions on where to find rest.

As evening fell, the pair decided to walk on in the cool of the night, with the twinkling lights of the next town in sight. On high alert, knowing the dangers of travelling in the dark, Yousif and Ya’foor moved slowly but steadily, eager to reach their resting spot but prepared to react to any danger.

After hearing some noise and sensing danger, Ya’foor stopped in his tracks as his owner squinted to see what was going on in front of them. As they crept closer, they could see four soldiers trying to attach a chain to a raggedy figure whose clothing was torn and ripped as if attacked by some wild animal. Yousif patted Ya’foor as if to say he was with him and urging him not to get spooked. They then watched as the men finally attached the man’s collar to the long chain bolted to some large boulders nearby. Snarling at his captors and snapping his teeth, the crazed man lunged at the soldiers over and over, and so forceful were his attacks that Yousif feared the chains would actually break.

After seeing enough, the pair continued on to the town, giving a wide berth to the frightening savage and the soldiers tasked with restraining him. About an hour later, they arrived at the gates and after giving a small coin to the guard, they were let in, where torches lit up the streets and dirt roads lined the rows of houses and shops, most of which were closed at this hour.

Yousif found an inn with a barn and paid the owner for one night’s accommodation and fodder for his donkey. Touching Ya’foor’s forehead as if to say goodnight, their eyes locked for a moment before they headed off to their separate resting areas. As his eyelids drooped lower and lower, Yousif slowly entered a dream, where reality and imagination blended together. At first, all he could see was his home city, the fabled Venice of Italy. The son of a wealthy Arabian trader he grew up learning to be a merchant, exchanging goods for a profit. Then his dreams took him to his first trip to Egypt, walking by land across Macedonia, Asia Minor and finally the Middle East before arriving at Alexandria in Egypt. He remembered seeing the wonderous library there, where men of importance seemed to prefer nothing more than to sit around discussing new ideas and ways of thinking. As the pictures of Alexandria faded, Yousif was transported to Persia, where his aging father first allowed him to lead the expedition. He recalled trading figs and dates for expensive Persian rugs, elaborate tea kettles and intricate vases. Growing to be a stout young man with a promising future, his mother had tried to arrange a meeting with a girl for him, but his father and himself did not fancy getting bogged down with family affairs and attachments. Not to mention the dangers of travelling for families that had to live on the go. They then loaded up the camels with their merchandise and followed their escorts safely back home. The well-armed soldiers were tasked with keeping them safe from robbers, highwaymen and even wild animals. Yousif had heard of many-a-story about merchants being mauled to death by lions, crushed by bears or even hunted by packs of hyenas with their blood-curdling laughter. Then he saw Ya’foor. Moving his head, he gestured for Yousif to follow him, and they walked into a dark void that seemed empty to the casual eye. Yousif tried walking in further, but his donkey stopped him from doing so with his head. He then shook his head it as if warning his master, Ya’foor could see what Yousif could not. Rows upon rows of shining soldiers surrounded them, with one barring Yousif’s path with a flaming sword. But to the bemused man’s vision, there was only blackness and emptiness. As they turned around and headed back, Yousif woke up and found himself back in the room, with the gentle snores of weary guests surrounding him. He then got up and decided to check on Ya’foor, to see how his donkey was faring. It took a moment to find the correct stall, but once there, he could see his trusty companion was fast asleep, curling around himself to keep warm from the chilly, crisp, night.

When morning came, Yousif woke up and headed downstairs for breakfast. The quiet conversations of the other guests droned on in the background as he hurriedly finished his meal to check up on Ya’foor. Glad to see his partner rested and refreshed, he untied him from the stall post and led him out after putting all their belongings on his saddle. They then headed for the marketplace, where Yousif knew quality items could be bought at bargain prices, if he haggled correctly.

With the burden of all their baggage on him, Ya’foor grunted quietly, as if complaining to his owner about the extra weight.

Yousif chucked at his beast of burden, then feed him an apple before heading to the bazaar. There he found some Persian rugs, carpets and mats for sale, which he confidently asked for less if he paid in silver. After getting a bargain for the wares, he proceeded to do the same with other goods, knowing when to be aggressive in his haggling and when to be more conservative. From years of training under his father’s instruction, Yousif was a very prolific businessman and merchant.

When he had finished loading up on goods to be traded back at his home in Venice, he made sure to hire several security escorts to ensure him safe passage. He knew that one wrong move could result in the loss of all his belongings, and that proper safety was not to be skimped on.

Grunting once again as one of the newly added escorts slapped his hindquarters, Ya’foor glared at the muscular foot soldier before continuing marching forward.

Yousif laughed as he ruffled the ears of his donkey, picking out a gnat that had decided to hitch a ride on his mane.

As they travelled along the highway, they came across a fork in the road, with one side descending into a valley, while the other cut into the side of the mountain precariously. By now, several caravans had joined together as there was safety in numbers, but there was a disagreement over which route to take. All the other caravans wanted to head down the valley, where the path was less steep and shaded from the afternoon sun, while Yousif’s donkey insisted on taking the mountain path.

Yousif looked at Ya’foor closely, as he trusted his donkey’s judgement time after time. Deciding to part ways with the rest of the travelers, their small group started the dangerous journey along the cliffside, trying not to look down at the falling rocks below.

Not long after, they heard screams and howling in the valley below. The screeching and cries continued for some time, until an eerie silence ensued marking the fate of the other caravans. Even the most experienced guards escorting Yousif seemed unnerved at the frightening noises coming from below; such as the sounds of bones crunching and glass breaking. After several calls to their fellow journeymen below and receiving no response, they assumed the worst and were sick to their stomach that they had cheated death so narrowly. And it was all thanks to Ya’foor, who had insisted on taking the mountainous route rather than down the valley.

After several grueling weeks of travel, they finally arrived at Venice, where the water canals connected different parts of the city. Yousif then paid his guards handsomely before sending them off and checking in with his mother. He proudly showed her the variety and quality of goods he had procured, and telling her of his harrowing journey with Ya’foor.

Yousif had refused the offers by some of the guards to buy his donkey, as they witnessed first hand how intuitive he was when it came to danger. Walking to the barn behind the store, he found Ya’foor munching happily on some oats covered in molasses, a treat for the humble donkey. Gently stroking his mane and wordlessly thanking him, Yousif could only wonder what it must be like to see as Ya’foor did, to see things that most cannot see. To see the unseen.

The End