Ten Donkeys

One day Nasreddin Hodja bought ten donkeys at the market. He tied them to one another, climbed onto one of them and set off for the village. Halfway there, he grew uneasy: "Let me count them and see if they're all here."

He turned around on the donkey and counted: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine." Nine! The Hodja was alarmed. "One donkey is missing!" He jumped down at once, ran over to the donkeys and counted again: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." Ten! The Hodja was relieved.

He climbed back onto his donkey and went on. A little later he grew uneasy again and counted again from the donkey's back: "One, two... nine." Nine again! He got down again and counted again: ten! The Hodja scratched his head: "What's going on? When I get on, a donkey disappears, and when I get off, it comes back."

This happened several times. In the end the Hodja said, "When I ride, I lose a donkey, and when I walk, I gain one. So I'll walk, and at least all my donkeys will be here," and he walked all the way to the village.

At the edge of the village a neighbour saw him trudging along beside ten donkeys, worn out: "Hodja, you have ten donkeys. Why are you walking?" The Hodja explained: "When I ride, there are nine, neighbour, and when I walk, there are ten."

The neighbour burst out laughing: "Hodja, you're not counting the donkey you're riding!"

The Hodja stopped and thought, and then he laughed too: "Well! You're right, neighbour. People count everything, but they often forget the very thing they're sitting on."

This story tells us: sometimes we don't notice the most important thing we have, just because it's right beside us, or even underneath us. Valuing what we already have comes before searching for what is lost.