Bonaire's donkey lady: go off the beaten path to visit this special woman at her unique animal sanctuary

Cruise Travel, Sept-Oct, 2002 by Max Hunn, Bea Hunn

We noticed the sign "Donkey Sanctuary" as we headed back with our car and driver to Kralendijk, capital of Bonaire. My wife and 1, freelance photo-journalists, were winding up an assignment on the tiny Dutch island in the Caribbean. I was intrigued by the sign after glimpsing the sandy, unpaved road branching off into the desert-like brush from the main highway.

"Are there donkeys on the island?" I asked our driver.

"Yes," he said. "Several hundred. All running wild."

Might be a possible article I mused, but our ship was scheduled to depart at 4 p.m. Turning to my wife, I remarked, "If we ever get back to Bonaire, we should investigate this Donkey Sanctuary."

Coincidentally, eight weeks later on another Deep Caribbean cruise, we were back on Bonaire to shoot more pictures, and determined to see the Donkey Sanctuary. We hired Idelio Hart, a tourist guide and his car, to escort us around the island--after making certain he could take us to the Donkey Sanctuary. He not only could, and did, but also provided a wealth of information.

The story of Bonaire donkeys begins in 1863 when they were introduced as work animals. For years they were used for riding--as pint-size horses--and also as pack animals carrying everything from loads of water to salt, groceries, and other items. They were especially useful working on the enormous salt flats for which the island was, and still is, famous. Donkeys have an unusual ability--a surprising memory. After following a certain trail or path a few times, they remember every step. Years ago it was common for donkeys to walk from their homes into town and back unattended.

For decades the animals were important, but with the development of modern transportation, the docile animals no longer were needed. They were turned loose to forage and find water unaided. After a few generations, they became feral, reverting to their natural instincts for survival and propagation. Now they live in herds according to a strict social order led by a dominant male, who controls the herd's movements.

The donkeys forage along highways, often being struck by cars. Where they tend to cross the roads, the Bonaire highway department has posted "Donkey Crossing" signs warning motorists. But these are not perfect protection. When the rains are late, the donkeys become garbage-can-snoopers around residences. They also raid gardens searching for food and water.

Many people are annoyed with the four-footed trespassers. Slowly the donkey population has decreased through age and accidental death (today's wild population numbers about 200). Donkeys can live to be 40 to 50 years old, and the older animals naturally have problems. But nothing was done about the situation until Marina Melis, born in Hilversum, Holland, visited Bonaire a few years ago and recognized the donkeys faced an uncertain future and possible extinction.

While growing up on a farm, Marina developed a love for animals. She was given a donkey to raise. Soon she realized her pet needed companionship, so she persuaded her parents to give her another donkey. Shortly three foals were cavorting around under her care. On a recent trip back to Holland, she found her original donkeys still alive.

Determined to help the Bonaire wild donkeys, she formed the non-profit Donkey Help Foundation to ensure that ill, wounded, lonely, and older donkeys might survive. Her foundation has achieved international recognition, along with the support of Bonaire's government. With official assistance, she obtained a parcel of about 61 acres located south of the Flamingo airport in typical outback, sandy, brush terrain. Initial construction of the sanctuary was finished in 1998, but additions are being made as funds (all from private donations) become available.

As Hart slowly turned our car off the well-paved main highway, he remarked, "Tour buses don't come to the Donkey Sanctuary." The reason was obvious--it was a bumpy, rutted route, which looked like it could flood. We bounced slowly--15 to 18 miles an hour--down two-and-a-half kilometers, according to the entry sign on the highway. Finally we swung into a broad, parking lot with a large sign overhead: Donkeys Sanctuary.

We entered the main compound--the entire 61 acres are fenced, more to keep intruders out than to restrain the donkeys; they don't want to leave once they become adjusted. The sanctuary has its own water supply with a windmill for pumping, and a special, shaded drinking trough for the donkeys. There's an observation tower, stables, and feeding stations.

The main building, office, and small gift shop has a donkey bar, where they come for special food treats. The bar is low enough for even the shortest donkeys to rest their heads on it while begging for tidbits. In the small gift shop, you can buy souvenirs ranging from T-shirts to hand-painted donkey tiles to a donkey mug with a brief story of the history of the docile animals.

Marina was happy to have visitors, especially from abroad. Immediately after meeting us, she proudly showed us the latest addition to the growing herd--a two-week-old donkey.