Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

one else brush my coat. He draped a ribbon around my neck, decorated with five red velvet balls, and added a red silk tassel to the bell.
    When he rode me on an inspection tour, I was invariably accorded the most courteous reception. Villagers supplied me with the finest feed, gave me clean spring water to drink, and groomed my coat with bone combs. Then I was led to a spot on which fine white sand had been spread, where I could roll around comfortably and take my rest. Everyone knew that taking special care of the county chiefs donkey made him very happy. Patting my rump was equivalent to patting the county chief’s behind with flattery. He was a good man who preferred a donkey over a vehicle. It saved gasoline and was superior to walking on his inspection trips to mine sites in the mountains. I knew, of course, that at bottom, he treated me the way he did because of the deep affection he’d developed for my kind during his years as a donkey trader. The eyes of some men light up when they see a pretty woman; the county chief rubbed his hands when he saw a handsome donkey. It was perfectly natural that he would feel good about a donkey with hooves as white as snow and intelligence the equal of any man.
    After I became the county chief’s mount, my halter served no further purpose. A surly donkey with a reputation for biting people had, in short order, thanks to the county chief, become a docile and obedient, bright and clever young donkey — nothing less than a miracle. The county chief’s secretary, a fellow named Fan, once took a picture of the county chief sitting on my back during an inspection tour of the iron mines; he sent it with a short essay to the provincial newspaper, where it was prominently published.
    I met Lan Lian once during my stint as the county chief’s mount. He was carrying two baskets of iron ore down a narrow mountain path while I was on my way up the mountain with the county chief on my back. When he saw me, he dropped his carrying pole, spilling the iron ore, which rolled down the mountain. The county chief was irate:
    “What was that all about? Iron ore is too valuable to lose, even a single rock. Go down and bring that back up.”
    I could tell that Lan Lian hadn’t hear a word the county chief said. His eyes flashed as he ran up, threw his arms around my neck, and said:
    “Blackie, old Blackie, at last I found you . . .”
    Recognizing that he was my former owner, Chen turned to Secretary Fan, who followed us everywhere on an emaciated horse, and signaled for him to come deal with the matter. Fan, always alert to what his boss wanted, jumped off his horse and pulled Lan Lian off to one side.
    “What do you think you’re doing? This is the county chief’s donkey.”
    “No, it isn’t, it’s mine, my Blackie. He lost his mother at birth and only survived because my wife fed him millet porridge from his first days. We relied upon him for our livelihood.”
    “Even if what you say is true,” Secretary Fan said, “if the county chief hadn’t come along when he did, a group of militiamen would have made donkey meat out of him. He now has a very important job, taking the county chief into villages and saving the nation the expense of a Jeep. The county chief cannot do without him, and you should rejoice in knowing that your donkey is playing such an important role.”
    “I don’t care about that,” Lan Lian replied stubbornly. “All I know is, he’s my donkey, and I’m taking him with me.”
    “Lan Lian, old friend,” the county chief said. “These are extraordinary times, and this donkey has been an enormous help to me in negotiating these mountain paths. So let’s just say I’ve got your donkey on temporary loan, and as soon as the steel smelting project has ended, you can have him back. I’ll see that the government gives you a stipend for the duration of the loan period.”
    Lan Lian wasn’t finished, but an official from the co-op walked up, dragged him back to the side of the road, and said sternly:
    “Like a goddamn dog who doesn’t know how lucky he is to be carried in a sedan chair, you should be thanking your ancestors for accumulating good luck, which is why the county chief has chosen your donkey to ride.”
    Raising his hand for the man to stop the harangue, the county chief said:
    “How’s this, Lan Lian? You’re a man of strong character, for which I admire you. But I can’t help feeling sorry for you, and as chief official of this county, I