The sun
was already high when an old man stopped to rest beneath a shady tree, his
donkey beside him, loaded with two sacks of wheat. He dozed off in the heat,
grateful for the break.
When he
woke, the donkey was gone.
Panic set
in. He looked around, called out, and then started walking quickly down the
road, shouting the donkey’s name like it might respond. The sacks of wheat were
gone too — his livelihood. He was sweating more from worry than the heat now.
Not far
along the road, he came across a boy, maybe ten or eleven, standing barefoot on
the path, tossing pebbles at a tree stump.
“Boy,”
the man said, out of breath, “have you seen my donkey?”
The boy
looked up and asked, “Was it blind in the left eye, had a limp on its right
leg, and carrying wheat?”
The man’s
face lit up. “Yes! That’s exactly my donkey. Where did you see it?”
“I
didn’t,” the boy said calmly.
The man’s
face changed instantly. “What kind of trick is this?” he barked. “You mock an
old man who's lost his donkey?”
Angry and
frustrated, he dragged the boy to the village chief, demanding punishment.
Inside
the village hut, the chief listened quietly. “Boy,” he said, “if you didn’t see
the donkey, how could you describe it so clearly?”
The boy
stood straight. “I saw hoofprints on the path. One set was deeper and uneven —
that told me the donkey limped. I noticed grass eaten only on the right side of
the road. That meant it couldn’t see on the left. And there were small grains
of wheat along the trail. That’s how I knew what it was carrying.”
The chief
leaned back, impressed. He turned to the man. “Your donkey may be missing, but
this boy is not the thief — he’s just observant. You should thank him, not
punish him.”
The man
looked at the boy, ashamed. “I judged too quickly,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
The boy
just smiled and went back to tossing pebbles at the stump.
0 facebook:
Post a Comment