I’ve been going on about the need to get a donkey for ages and as soon as I started trying to work on the land, this need became urgently obvious. Now like most of you, I’ve seen my fair share of donkeys, but there’s a difference to being a casual peruser of the passing eeeorr, to jumping in with all four hooves and buying one…I mean what do I know about buying a donkey…Oh no, this feels like another steep learning curve in the making….

Now that we have the internet, nothing should be beyond us and you don’t have to have spent generations hanging out at Butlins Leisure Camps to know a winner from a loser. In fact I found this very useful as a guide to donkey buying: 

So firstly it should be noted that your average donkey lives for 20 – 40 years, which is to say, in my case anyway, a donkey is for life, not just for Christmas! Always check a donkeys teeth, the condition of their feet, their skin and fur and of course make a serious assessment of their character as no two donkeys are the same…….And prices can range from between 1,000 – 2,000 dhs…see now you’ve learnt something.

Armed with my donkey buyers guide, a bit of insider knowledge from Fuddle and an open mind to learning on the job, I spent the next 10 days wandering the Riff mountains from weekly souk to Berber farm, pushing, pulling and prodding many an unsuspecting Equus africanus asinus in the search for my perfect lifetime companion.

I must say that there are some amazing souks in the region and the weekly market at Oued Laou was particularly impressive, though it would be wrong to say my focus was solely upon what the asses had to offer.

I might also add that all this was again being done with Fuddle or other Moroccan friends, at 45 degrees during Ramadan and many’s the time I’d get back to the camp site having spent 6 – 7 hours out in the sun, with not a drop of water having passed my lips…that hurt, let me tell you!

Finally I decided upon my choice. Of course he’d been one of my early viewings and of course he was the most expensive of the lot, but he looked worth it; young (5 years old), shapely and of excellent character, with all his own teeth…he stood out from the crowd.

And so I asked the owners to bring him over to Loubar the next day. Two days later a van arrived carrying two donkeys, the other, I was told, was for company (good practice according to my guide!!!), and I could buy him as well if I wanted, though he looked pretty knackered to me.

So out they came and as I looked on I felt…unsure…in fact I was very far from sure, because neither donkey looked particularly remarkable to me…in fact they both looked pretty knackered…had I been dreaming…had too much sun…was I sure I wasn’t sure?

At this point the 4 male companions to the donkey van man, said that they needed to go so would I hand over the 2,000 dhs or 3,000dhs if I wanted the “companion” and they’d be off.

I looked on, but still wasn’t sure….not even sure that I wasn’t sure, but I had that feeling, the one you learn to listen to after a while here in Moroc, that something is wrong and all is not quite right with the world and so I stated my disquiet..

…and the 5 Riffian, Marajuana farmers with a combined institutional experience of donkeys of centuries, looked at me in disbelief…what was I saying, no, no, no, of course this is the donkey, look…teeth were shown, hooves raised, tail pulled…come on let’s get on with  it…

But it simply didn’t feel right…have belief in your self, I whispered…as the Riffians looked at each other and asked how long I’d been looking at donkeys…saying discreetly…that I wasn’t fully in control of my senses!

This went on for all of two hours…in a blistering Ramadan sun as I explained that I knew it was me, that I was simply too much of an amateur to know the real thing when it was staring me in the face, as they pointed, raised eyebrows and assured me that I was simply mistaken….until I said that I was afraid that the deal would have to be off…I had a less than detailed photo of “my” donkey and somehow it seemed different to the two stood in front of me.

It was only then that one of the farmers made a phone call and all of a sudden there were smiles and guffs of laughter…of course there had been a terrible mistake, an idiot cousin had put the wrong donkeys in the van and of course my donkey was still at the farm waiting for me…

Oh what a silly mistake, could have happened to anyone as we smiled, laughed, kissed and hugged and the dodgy donkey, mate and all, were pushed back in to the van.

So now I am the owner of the most beautiful donkey in the Riff, unnamed until seen by Finn, but one for whom the story of potential mistaken identity will forever be synonymous

Who’d have thought it eh!

There are lots of things said about our relationship with donkeys, many of which are simply flights of fantasy, based if anything upon wishful thinking or at best a grain of truth…..all I can say is I’m getting to know mine…and he’s 100% Moroccan.

Beware the link below..it may cause offence..or at least a search for those T shirts!