Page 32 of Colombian Chemistry

“I like him too.” I smiled then looked into its big, brown eyes. “But I’m not riding you. You’ll get me killed.”

“Suit yourself.” Marcus tossed his bag behind the saddle of his donkey, then swung up and reached down to give it a scratch. “Good boy, Cheech. We’re gonna be buds.”

As he started off through town, I followed behind him, dragging my reluctant donkey along with me, pain causing groans with each step I took. I did have blisters on my feet, and the thought of going fifteen miles seemed like unbearable torture. I started running calculations in my head as to the likelihood I would get injured if I rode a donkey just this once. When I finished, I decided that my chances were slim. A lot slimmer than the guarantee I would be crippled if I had to walk like this for fifteen miles.

“Wait,” I called to Marcus.

He pulled on the reins and slowed Cheech to a stop.

“I changed my mind. I’ll ride the donkey.”

He grinned widely and hopped off. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“Just help me on this thing.” I stuck my finger in his face. “And don’t let it kill me. I’ll haunt you forever if I die by donkey.”

“Chong won’t hurt you. Will you, Chong?” He rubbed its head, and it gave him an affectionate shove with its nose.

“I’ll make a step with my knee, and you can just hop up.”

He started to lower himself to make my human mounting block, but I remembered the most important thing I needed if I was going to do this.

“Wait! A helmet! Wearing a helmet seriously decreases the risks of traumatic brain injury. Do I get a helmet?”

Marcus looked around before walking over to a table outside of a hut. He grabbed a well-worn wicker basket, then marched back over and stopped square in front of me. Before I could even ask what he was doing with the basket, he flipped it upside down and shoved it onto my head, pushing the handle under my chin.

“There’s your fucking helmet.”

I glared at him from beneath my basket helmet. “I hate you.”

Marcus kneeled down and bent his knee, making a perfect step for me to use to get up. With the basket still snug on my head, I stepped on his knee and settled into the saddle.

The narrow donkey felt less stable than I’d imagined. I straightened my body to stay upright. “Whoa. This is weird.”

“You’ll have fun. You’ll see.”

He stood up and swung up onto Cheech with ease. The grey donkey started walking with no urging from him. Chong stood immobile while I thumped my legs against his side like I’d seen other people do when they rode. After a grunt and pinning his ears, he finally trudged along after his friend.

We followed the dirt road out of town and back into the jungle. Cheech happily plodded along, but my donkey was like a drunk driver swerving back and forth trying to snatch mouthfuls of every patch of grass he saw.

“My donkey is broken!” I shouted after it stopped and started nibbling again while I begged it to move forward.

Marcus looked over his shoulder and exploded into a full-body laugh that had him gasping for breath.

“What is so funny?” I ground out as I struggled to lift my donkey's head.

“You look ridiculous,” he choked out between laughs. “I was joking about the basket. I didn’t think you’d actually keep wearing it.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing!” I said, grunting as I finally got Chong to lift his head.

“I don’t think a basket is going to protect you from anything other than a bird shitting on your head.”

“Well, it’s actually also working as a sun visor. So there.”

“We’re heading deep into the jungle soon. No sun is getting through the trees. I think you can live without the basket.”

Even though I knew that it wouldn’t help me in the event of a collision, the feeling of it on my head still gave me some semblance of security. Like just maybe if I went flying off this thing, the basket would be the one thing that saved me from catastrophic injury. I knew the odds were slim but not impossible.

“I’m wearing it. Just in case,” I said decidedly as I guided my stubborn donkey up to Marcus.