The Word of the Donkey

Panel 1: in a sunlit lane Afandi stands by his shut wooden door, one arm flung down the road, while a stooped neighbour in a terracotta robe holds out both hands in request. Panel 2: over a low mud-brick wall the donkey's head appears, one ear up and one down; the neighbour jabs a finger at it while Afandi spreads both palms. Panel 3: Afandi lifts his chin and strokes his long white beard; the neighbour cups a hand to his ear, the donkey gazing sleepily over the wall between them.

Swipe to see all three panels.

  1. Neighbour: May I borrow your donkey until evening, Afandi?

    Afandi: My good neighbour, he has gone to the mill.

  2. Neighbour: Why is he braying behind your wall, then?

    Afandi: Would you question my word on account of a bray?

  3. Neighbour: But I heard the donkey with my own ears.

    Afandi: Shame, neighbour. You believe a donkey over a white beard.

The donkey had only the truth to offer, which in good society has never been quite enough.

· Wesselski (1911) Vol. 1 No. 18