In fascinating, rather weird news from Egypt, it was reported that in a bid to fool visitors, a zoo in Cairo had painted a donkey black and white to make it look like a zebra. The image of the fake zebra went viral after a student posted it on social media. Even as the zoo authorities brushed off the incident as false, despite the evidence, the vets within the country were quick to confirm that the animal was indeed a donkey.
The cases of animal trickery aren’t unheard of. In a zoo in China some years back, a hairy dog (Tibetan mastiff) was passed off as a lion. When visitors went to the cage of the ‘lion’ at the zoo, they heard a loud bark. Similarly, a zoo in Gaza painted two white donkeys to look like zebras in 2009.
With seemingly little in common but actually so much typical, there is a daily trickery in human world as well. As animals get painted, so do individuals. There are hapless donkeys in zoos. There are daredevils in world. And, most notably, donkeys are scapegoated by none but humans!
So, we have donkeys, overly glorified and hence overly painted. Painted with colors of ‘brilliance and wisdom’. Overburdened with portfolios, errands and missions— both undercover and openly. For, in reality, donkeys are meant to toil.
The painting is a skilled art. Reflective of the way the powerful of a society coordinate on interpretations of “ability” as eligibility. Thus, a mediocre donkey is guarded with muscle. A corrupt donkey is showered with credit. A scandalous donkey is sheltered with law. A dumb donkey is decked with award. A wicked donkey is favored with lushness.
All these images of donkeys live and stay with us. That’s why, some donkey stories reach us, and some get slayed. Generating a persuasive perception of “painted donkeys”…. A kind of narrative about cryptic criminal culture, that presents a strand of complicated meanings. Meanings that are socially constructed and strengthened by human actions and agency; contingent upon socio-cultural, historical and political influences
That’s how donkeys are picked up and endowed with ‘colors’. Painted to please and pray to Masters when ordered; Grunt and bray as and when required; Kick and kill whenever needed; Exploit and eliminate when commanded—somewhat like the modern version of dystopian novel Animal Farm. The only difference between Orwell’s allegorical story and our painted tale is of Pigs putting up in farm and Donkeys roving in open. There pigs gain the supremacy; here donkeys take the control. Pigs being the cleverest of the animals turn commanding leaders; and Donkeys being the dull of all, become blind henchmen. Pigs give orders. Donkeys take orders.
The painted donkeys can be anyone from ‘working to pet to rescued donkeys’—all tamed for a survival mechanism that’s intended to make donkeys rule the roost, and become imperative element of Mandarin mentality. In fact, the brazen bravado of our donkeys, who are painted as anything from loud lions to gentle giraffes, moving in fortified vehicles and blaring cheek, is a projection of showdown that aims for the subjugation of population as a necessary political schema.
Of course, the painted donkeys don’t exist for donkey’s years. And then, as they say, donkey is a donkey though it may carry the Sultan’s treasure or is finely saddled. They don’t symbolize what they supply. Anything, from bucks to body bags and from stacks of shame to tons of temerity! Well, donkeys remain donkeys. All the strokes of color could never brush them in striking shades. They are used, misused, and eventually cast off.
Bottomline: Ours is an open zoo. We are playing human trickery. Carrying out the grand script of humbug. We are forced to think that the painted donkeys don’t lose color and never ever get smudged. But the reality always proves otherwise. Layer after layer, we see them losing their paint, fading into parody… discoloring to pits.