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Journey to Afghanistan

CHOSEN - Chapter 12 Page 31

The Burros of Afghanistan

Words like dependability, endurance and patience best describe the burros of Afghanistan. Only once did I see one acting up - a small colt cavorting and galloping along the roadway leading out of Mazar-i-Sharif. The neck rope dangled behind and a young lad scurried after him. I think that little donkey was laughing.

Countless scenes cross my mind: Burros carrying huge loads of brush and weeds out of the mountains and desert areas, to be used for fuel that cold winter; some pulling carts, carrying the driver and a variety of produce; riders with feet almost dragging, and their little animal friend clip-clopping along beneath them without apparent complaint.

One day upon coming over a rise on our way back from a village clinic, there appeared abruptly a group of nearly thirty riders, all on donkeys. They were armed with shovels and hoes, obviously on their way to work in the fields . In spite of the precipitous encounter with our van, the little animals quickly stepped aside and continued on.

On several occasions various ones in our group , both American and Afghan, asked if they could ride one of the little critters. Their owners always were happy to oblige and in fact rather seemed to have fun watching us westerners show our burro-manship (or lack thereof). Our mounts without exception seemed patient.

Commonly we would see a burro standing quietly with its load above or cart behind, tethered only by a feedbag pulled up over its muzzle. One I especially recall was standing in this manner in front of the office compound of the United Nations Organization for Coordinating Humanitarian Activities. As we left an hour or more later, it was still there seeming not to have moved a bit.

Camels, on the the other hand, are often smelly and cantankerous. One day we were impressed to see a burro standing at the edge of a field with a nearby camel resting its long neck across that donkey's back.

Although most of the tiny colts looked clean and cuddly, an occasional one appeared unkempt and dirty. I especially recall a dark little burro standing alone on the median near the Civilian Hospital. Its winter coat was bedraggled and soiled. Hair was in clumps pointing in all directions. That little donkey's head hung down, appearing the epitome of sadness. I thought, "Perhaps this would be the one our Leader would choose. He would wash off the dirt, curry out the tangled hair, scratch around its ears and hug its neck. Then he would mount and ride into Jerusalem."