The Wandering Donkey

THE WANDERING DONKEY

“Let me carry those bags for you, Mama Mu.”

Mama Mu glanced at her slight companion with a baby strapped to her back. “San-nu, I may be 15 years your senior, but I’m not old and feeble.” Laughing, she stretched her ample arms out wide, almost hitting a man walking in the opposite direction. He ducked just in time.

They walked amongst other holiday travelers on the undulating trail, which threaded the villages in eastern Zhejiang province together.

“No, no. I didn’t mean you were weak, but you saved me and my baby. If it hadn’t been for you, I… we …” the young woman stuttered.

She was about to say they would have died, but stopped before she did. For, to utter the word “die” on this holiday would invite bad luck. The Lunar New Year meant a fresh beginning. Nothing bad should cross a person’s lips, for that would invite trouble.

“Never mind,” Mama Mu said. People called her Mama because she was a midwife. She’d married an invalid who, while a good man, couldn’t provide for their two children and his elderly parents. Being a midwife brought in needed money. Moreover, she discovered that the families who sought her help truly respected her, an illiterate, county woman.

Growing up, her poverty-stricken family despaired at finding her a husband. They had no dowry for her. Other villagers often criticized her as plain, unattractive, and “too robust.” Even worse, for a female, they considered her inappropriately outspoken.

Wiping a bead of sweat that meandered down her forehead and into her eyes, she looked glumly at the narrow, rock-lined path inching upwards over uneven ground, through a dense bamboo forest.

“Who knew we would get such unseasonably warm weather for the New Year celebrations. And such humidity!” Mama Mu said.

“My husband said that means we’ll have a prosperous and peaceful year. Just as our Jiajing Emperor predicted.”

“Mmm,” Mama Mu responded noncommittally. “I’m surprised your husband let you and the baby travel to your natal home.”

San-Nu blushed. “He knew I’ve been homesick and, after you told him to give me more care and rest, he decided I should visit my family.” She glanced at her companion. “When was the last time you returned home?”

“I haven’t been back since I married.”

“So long! Your family will be delighted to see you!” She peeked at Mama Mu’s bags. “Are those New Year’s gifts?”

“We don’t have much spending money, but yes. These are gifts I made for my mother and family. I also brought dried fish and cooked eel.”

“So much! You’re a good daughter,” San-nu said. Then, she glanced over her shoulder and gave the baby a slight shake. “She’s probably hungry. Can we stop soon?”

“If I remember correctly, the bamboo forest and hillside will soon give way to a wider, flat spot where we can rest.”

San-nu’s baby gurgled and wiggled restlessly.

Mama Mu laughed. “Tell her to hold on, we’re almost there.”

As they came out of the bamboo forest, the path leveled out into a grassy opening with enough space to sit.

San-nu swung the baby around and squatted onto her heels to nurse her, then she looked up. “Ah, the first sign of spring: a flowering plum tree!”

Mama Mu grinned and thought, How auspicious! Maybe my return home will go well.

She took out a piece of flatbread and munched on it. Soon, she heard an argumentative voice demanding people move off the trail to let him pass. A donkey carrying a thin man with angular features reached the grassy spot. From his clothing—a dark, long, cross-collar robe over undyed pants—Mama Mu guessed he was either a clerk or a low-level government official.

Pulling his donkey to a stop, the fellow dismounted and stood scowling. Travelers filled the small grassy area, leaving little space for newcomers.

Before he had a chance to say anything, a heavily tanned man near Mama Mu picked up his child, put her on his lap, and scooted sideways. He waved a hand over the enlarged area and said, “Sit. Sit. Plenty of room.”

The thin fellow scarcely nodded in thanks and stepped away from his donkey, which he left on the path. He took a small, wrapped bundle from his robe and squatted. “Miserable weather,” he grumbled.

“Going home for the holidays?” the man asked.

“No. I’m an agent for the Golden Phoenix brush company, and I’m conveying these goods,” he indicated the bags hanging off the donkey’s saddle, “to my boss’s business in Ningbo on the coast.”

The deeply tanned fellow raised his eyebrows in admiration. “I’ve heard of the Golden Phoenix brush company. It makes the best ink brushes. Expensive, too. He must really trust you.”

“Of course. I’m his nephew, his right-hand man. Only a trusted person would be given this responsibility.”

“Ah, you’re a brave man to travel alone with your merchandize. You must travel a lot..”

“Well, this is my first business trip, but how hard can it be? Look. Even women travel alone,” the thin man said, nodding in Mama Mu and San-nu’s direction.

“Hm.”

A jarring hee-haw, hee-haw interrupted him. The thin man’s head jerked up, and he spit out: “Hey! Don’t bother my donkey! Go around him! What’s the matter with you simpletons!”

“The trail is for all to share and not for one to dominate,” Mama Mu said loudly to no one in particular. A murmur of agreement went up around them.

The thin man stood up and cast a spiteful look at her. “Hah. You’re all peasants. You should show more respect to your superiors.”

“When we see one, we will,” Mama Mu returned, setting off a round of laughter.

With a huff, the thin man grabbed his donkey, swung astride, and, eyes forward, moved down the path, forcing the foot-travelers off the path.

Unexpectedly, instead of dampening the New Year feelings, the incident drew the travelers together. Laughing and chatting, they picked up their meager goods and continued on their separate ways.

After several more hours of walking, as dusk began to fall, Mama Mu and San-nu’s natal village finally came into sight. As she remembered, the one-story houses with flaking white paint hugged a deeply cut creek bed. But she also saw that the village had grown since she’d left. A new, sturdy, two-story building sat on a foundation of rough-cut stones. Over its door, a sign read: “Traveler’s Rest.” Red lanterns glowed in front, welcoming guests. An inn! She smiled. She hadn’t expected to see such growth.

As they walked past the inn, a donkey brayed a greeting. Mama Mu recognized it, stopped, and patted its forehead. It was the thin man’s mount, still with saddle and bags. She peeked through the inn’s doorway and saw the clerk drinking, eating, and laughing loudly.

“You’d think he’d take care of his ride first,” San-nu sniffed as she bounced the baby on her back.

Mama Mu agreed and wondered if his boss had too much faith in his clerk’s competence.

As Mama Mu reached her family home, she said goodbye to San-nu, whose home was further up the trail. Standing at the doorway, she called out, “Mother, I’m home!”

Instantly, her brother appeared and drew her inside. Her mother, her brother’s family, and her uncle Wen with his family were all enjoying a meal together. Wen was the oldest male in the village and, therefore, its leader.

After a joyful greeting, she gave them the carefully crafted homemade New Year’s gifts, along with the holiday foods. Among the gifts for the children was a lantern she’d made with a riddle on it.

“Whoever guesses the riddle correctly will win a special prize: a hard candy on a stick.” She read:

What is yours but mostly used by others?

Uncle Wen chuckled. “This is what I’d expect from you,” he said. “Too easy. But then, even as a child, you had a simplistic nature.”

Stung by his comment, Mama Mu felt her face flush.

“Uncle Wen, how can you say that? My little sister has grown up and is a respected midwife in her husband’s village,” her brother said.

“Of course. I didn’t mean anything. Being a midwife is a good thing. It’s a woman’s job, after all. What woman wouldn’t want to do that? It gives them plenty of time to visit and gossip.”

At the veiled criticism, Mama Mu’s brother broke in. “We are here to celebrate together. Here, let me pour you more wine.” He took the wine pot, poured a cup for Wen and then the others.

After that, the families ate together without further disparagement or sarcasm.

Nevertheless, later that night, as Mama Mu lay on the kang next to her mother, she remained bothered by her uncle’s comments. As she eventually fell asleep to the sounds of revelry from the inn, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming home. After all, when she married, she became legally bound to her husband’s family, not her birth family. Perhaps that should be enough.

#

Yelling and wailing filled a blackened world. Mama Mu started. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Clouds covered the new moon’s faint light, intensifying the darkness. Next to her, her mother stirred. “What is that? It sounds like someone’s in pain,” her mother said.

Getting out of bed, Mama Mu said, “I’ll find out.” With that, she slipped through the room and into the chilly gloom.

One red lantern remained burning at the inn. It shed a weak light onto a chaotic scene of men frantically gesturing and talking loudly. They surrounded the thin man.

She rushed over. “What happened?”

“The donkey’s gone, saddle and all. The clerk thinks it’s stolen.”

“Impossible,” another man argued. “We’ve never had such a crime in our village. And there are so many people about. It probably just wasn’t tied properly and wandered off.”

“Don’t just stand around! Go out and find her!” the thin man yelled. “Or it’ll look like you’re all involved in the theft!”

“Now, now. Don’t get upset,” Uncle Wen soothed, “We’re not thieves. We’ll look for your donkey as soon as it’s daylight.”

“No! No! You must go now,” the thin man returned, wringing his hands.

“It’s too dark. We’ll leave when the sun’s up,” Wen said.

“Take lanterns and search the trails. Why are you delaying?”

“When did you last see your donkey?” Mama Mu asked the clerk.

“When I tied him under that thatched-roof shelter, before entering the inn.”

She looked around at the men. “Did anyone see it after that?”

Many villagers saw it when first tied to the post, but not later.

“My stableman should know more,” the innkeeper volunteered.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Here I am.” A young man, wearing a soiled, short tunic and fiber sandals, stepped forward. It had been many years, but she recognized him as the artless child she once knew. Although now an adult, he retained that naïve, innocent look she always associated with him.

He drew his eyebrows together, thinking hard. The lantern light shimmered off his crinkled forehead. “I left when all of the lanterns were still lit. The donkey was here then.”

“Exactly when my donkey went missing isn’t important. What’s important is that it’s missing! Go find it!” the thin man yelled.

Uncle Wen shot an irritated glance at Mama Mu. She could feel his silent reprimand for speaking up. He ordered the innkeeper to bring out fresh lanterns to light the trails.

Within the hour, the men were back, empty-handed.

“It’s no problem. You’ll find the donkey in the morning, when the light is better,” Mama Mu said.

Peeved, Wen puffed. “How can you say that? By daylight the donkey could be long gone.”

“Maybe, but a donkey’s too big to hide and doesn’t travel fast. There isn’t enough time to get it out of the area undetected.”

Wen pulled on his chin and stared at her. Then, shaking his head, he said, “That sounds good, but it’s just conjecture. You heard the clerk, we must find it, or our village will be accused of theft.”

Realizing there wasn’t any more she could do or say, she returned home and climbed onto the kang. After reporting what happened to her mother, she lay down and immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke to excited voices. Excited, but more muted than last night, as if they were trying to contain their enthusiasm.

She quickly rose and dashed into the street, arriving in time to see the stableman and two villagers coming out of the bamboo forest and down the trail, leading a donkey. She could read their pride and satisfaction at finding the animal by their straight backs and raised chins. However, she also saw that the donkey wasn’t wearing a saddle and there were no bags.

Wen stepped up to meet them. “Where did you find it?”

“Near the trail about two li from here, in the bamboo forest,” the stableman said with a wide smile.

“Did you also find the saddle and goods?” she asked.

“Ah, No. This one, though…,” he laughed, reached over, and scratched the donkey’s ears. “It was as if he was waiting for us to find him.”

“Hmm. Just as I thought. A donkey’s too big to hide in such a short time,” Wen said

Mama Mu forced herself not to smirk at her uncle’s audacity. What he disparaged last night, he now claimed as his own thoughts.

“My friends, you are heroes. You’ve solved the wandering-donkey incident. Come and enjoy a meal on me,” the innkeeper said.

“Wait! What about my saddle and the goods I was carrying? Where are they? They didn’t walk away by themselves,” the clerk wailed.

“As for that, I don’t know,” the stableman said. “We found this animal as you see it now.” His compatriots nodded their heads in agreement.

She felt her uncle’s eyes on her and glanced over at him.

“What do you think, Mama Mu?” he asked with a slight emphasis on her name, draining the honorific “Mama” of its intrinsic level of respect.

She paused before answering. “The incident needs further investigation. Not the least to make sure ‘a thief isn’t crying thief,’” she said, quoting a familiar saying.

“I wouldn’t dare!” the stableman and the others with him called out while bowing toward Wen and the clerk.

“Be careful,” Wen said, admonishing her. “How can you implicate the innocent?”

“She’s right about one thing, though. We must find the goods. My boss will not suffer this loss. It’s suspicious that in such a small place, an entire village can’t find his stolen property. You’ll be held accountable,” the clerk threatened.

Frustrated, Wen ordered: “Go out and search again!”

Mama Mu cleared her throat.

“What? What do you have to say this time?” her uncle demanded, turning toward her.

“You can do that, but don’t give the donkey any feed. Later, when you don’t find the stolen property, take the donkey back to the spot where you found him.”

Uncle Wen snorted and shook his head at her suggestion. He turned toward the gathered villagers. “What are you waiting for? Get going! We must find the goods for the sake of our village and its reputation.”

At that, the villagers dispersed in groups of two and three, searching alongside and off the trail. After a couple of hours, they returned. No one found anything of note. Not one clue.

Wen stared at his niece, pursed his lips, and took a deep breath. “Those of you who found the donkey this morning, take him back to where he was discovered.”

The men led the donkey away. Everyone followed behind.

When they reached the spot, she instructed them to untie the animal and leave. They did.

After a short time, the donkey started walking up the road toward the village. But, instead of going to the inn, it went to the backyard of the inn’s storage shed several houses down and waited.

Mama Mu told her uncle to have the men search the storage shed. They did.

It wasn’t long before a cry went up. The saddle and goods were found hidden under several bags of rice.

The innkeeper stuttered at the finding. “I don’t know how that got there!” He bowed low to Wen. “Please, investigate. I’m innocent.”

“If not you, who could have hidden it? Who had access to your shed?” Wen bellowed.

The innkeeper looked frantically around. “Him. My stableman. He also brings whatever we need from the shed to the inn. He must be the thief.”

As if shocked and confused by the innkeeper’s betrayal, the stableman dropped to his knees and kowtowed. “I only did what I was told. The innkeeper said we’d be rich if I just did what he said.”

***

Later, after arresting both the stableman and the innkeeper, uncle Wen came by Mama Mu’s family home. He found her sitting outside the door with her mother, enjoying the waning sunlight.

“Tell me, Mama Mu,” he said, using the honorific respectfully, “how did you know the donkey would lead us to the stolen goods?”

She grinned. “That was easy. I figured that once he got hungry, he would instinctively go to the last place where he was fed, which couldn’t be far away. It turned out to be the backyard of the innkeeper’s storage shed. An easy place to hide a saddle and bags of stolen goods.”

“You’ve grown a lot over the past many years. You’re no longer the foolish and impulsive child that left here. Your insightfulness has brought respect to our entire family.” Wen stood and, clasping his hands at chest level, bowed to her.

With his gesture of respect, she knew that this New Year would always be her most memorable.

THE END