An Interview with Mrs Donkey, Special Guest on National Media! — Part Two

Part Two: The Economy Is for Donkeys — but Where Is the Straw?

A satirical piece by S. Rouzbeh — Almost a week had passed since my first interview. As agreed, I put some alfalfa and fresh vegetables in a sack and set off for the stable. But when I arrived, I thought I had come to the wrong address. The entrance had changed, and a large sign proclaimed: “Model Stable: A Pioneer in Animal Welfare and Protection!” Beside it was a photograph of Mrs Donkey with a flag on her back.

Inside, Mrs Donkey's stall had been separated from the others. As soon as she saw me, she pricked up her ears:

“Well, well! Mr Reporter! Have you brought something this time?”

I put the sack in front of her. She glanced at the vegetables and said:

“I'd better eat quickly, before my owner arrives and puts a tax on them! Even hunger is taxable here. They just haven't yet found a way to charge VAT on our braying!”

I asked about the changes to the stable. She smirked:

“It's all thanks to fame! Ever since I went on that march and became a guest on national television, my owner has realised I'm no ordinary donkey: I'm a national asset! Now people come to have their photographs taken with me, and he collects money at the door. An ordinary photograph has one price; a photograph beside the flag has a special rate! He says a media personality shouldn't carry loads. Now I just have to turn up wherever he tells me and stand there looking completely satisfied with my life.”

She glanced at her husband and continued:

“A year or two ago, he wanted to turn us loose. He said it was the age of tractors, and what use were we? Then someone came along and said these animals still had plenty of economic potential. He talked about milk and anbar nasara — dried donkey dung — and suggested making money from our products instead of making us carry loads. My owner suddenly fell in love with us! I realised some affection doesn't come from the heart: it comes straight out of a calculator! Now he packages the dung and milks me, selling the milk that belongs to my foal. He keeps encouraging us to have more babies to secure the stable's future! I said, ‘Dear owner, we can't even feed this one foal.’ He said, ‘Have babies; God will provide for them!’ I said, ‘Then why does our children's provision go straight into your bank account?!’ Besides, petrol has recently become more expensive, so using us makes economic sense again, doesn't it?!”

“He's even made cigarettes out of the dung and sells those! Now he says he's negotiating with foreign companies to sell my braying as a mobile ringtone and for use at comedy concerts. Apparently even my voice isn't going to remain my own!”

I noticed scratches and bruises on her back and asked what had happened. She sighed:

“Don't get me started! After our last interview, they set up a disciplinary commission in the stable. I was the accused, my owner was the chairman, one of his relatives was the judge, and my manager was the complainant! They wouldn't let me speak. They said I was guilty of disturbing the trough's peace of mind and disrupting development programmes! The sentence was a ban on braying without a permit and a ban on standing beside an empty trough, because others might think we had a feed shortage. My owner has also ordered some new sticks and says the stable's equipment has been modernised!”

I asked: “How are the other animals doing financially?”

She laughed:

“According to my owner's report, brilliantly! Production has increased, and we've achieved self-sufficiency. But when we ask why none of it reaches us, he says revenue is confidential, expenditure is a security matter, and our share is under review! My owner has discovered a new economic theory: private profit, public losses and national glory!”

“Whenever feed runs short, he blames the enemy! One day I asked, ‘You sell our milk and don't feed us, so why does the enemy always attack our trough and leave your bank account alone?’ He said, ‘That's a suspicious question. You're probably in contact with the enemy!’”

The conversation turned to the famous phrase, “The economy is for donkeys.” She flicked her ears:

“That's an old grievance of ours! My grandfather thought that after centuries of carrying loads, something had finally been put in our name. But now I've realised the economy is in our name while the profits belong to our owner. Since getting his honorary doctorate, he doesn't talk about straw any more. He says those are microeconomic issues, and the macroeconomic question is how to get everything out of a donkey without giving the donkey anything at all! He even said his dissertation was about donkeys: how he had managed to generate all this income from one!”

Suddenly her ears drooped:

“Beyond all that, I'm afraid that when we get old or ill, our owner's last source of income will be us ourselves! I've heard talk of meat too. I'm afraid he'll declare the religious disapproval of our meat an obstacle to production and convene a meeting to remove it! Now he wants to meet some people and register a brand. I suggested calling it ‘From Milk to Sword’, because first they milk us, and at the end they come for us with a knife!”

I was about to say goodbye when the newly hired guard came in and put up a sign beside her stall:

“Valuable Economic Asset: Do Not Touch!”

I said: “You see? They've finally taken steps to protect you!”

Mrs Donkey looked at the sign:

“Mr Reporter, just ask my owner one question: now that you've made money from my milk, made cigarettes from my dung, profited from my voice and image, and started making plans for my meat, don't you want to fill my trough once before sending me to the butcher?”

I had nothing to say. I picked up the empty sack and headed for the door.

I had only taken a few steps when she called after me:

“By the way, Mr Reporter! If you come back and don't find me here, don't go to the vet first. Go and see what new company my owner has registered!”

The End