Pulling burdens some four times their body weight, they have ill-made harnesses that rub with every step, causing seeping wounds to fester. Many collapse in agony and never get back up. The rest face this miserable, exhausting existence until they die. This is Bamako, the capital of Mali in West Africa, one of the poorest countries on earth. With two million citizens, it has one of Africa’s fastest-growing urban populations and an accelerating household waste problem to match.
In the absence of any vehicle-borne rubbish disposal service, donkeys serve as the city’s official refuse collectors. Every household pays £5 per month for a collection. And six days a week, donkeys pull their piled-high carts to one of these sprawling dumps from across the city’s eight neighbourhoods.
The local authorities are happy to let the rubbish proliferate in unstable towering piles over months at a time. In the wet season, between June and October, the stacks tower, causing agonising injuries and falls for the donkeys trying to ascend.
The Daily Express visited a gigantic dump in the city’s Daoudabougou neighbourhood as guests of British charity SPANA (Society for the Protection of Animals Abroad) to highlight the appalling conditions. In the absence of mechanised alternatives, it wants to see the welfare of donkeys improved through better education and training.
The area is vast – about the size of six football pitches – and a sprawling sea of filth, littered with food waste, soiled nappies, clothes, shoes, plastics and tyres.
It is just 10.30am but the temperature is already close to 30C. The air is alive with buzzing flies and the putrid stench of rotting waste hits you with every wafting breeze.
The Daoudabougou rubbish tip in Bamako, Mali, is the size of six football pitches (Image: Dylan Thomas)
Some donkeys patiently waiting for their owners are munching on dirty cardboard. Around me children and women with babies strapped to their backs sift through the debris with silver rods to hunt for metals, plastic bottles or anything else of value they can recycle to sell. Few wear masks or gloves despite the obviously insanitary conditions.
Men and young boys are in charge of the donkeys, earning the meagre monthly sum of £50 to £60 to carry the waste to the dump. Many carry whips. Before they even arrive for work, the animals have had to trudge seven miles along steep winding roads. For many, it is a slow torture due to tight straps around their neck.
I hear two donkeys to my left reach the halfway point of the rubbish mountain before I see them. They are wheezing heavily, literally gasping for breath, their bodies shuddering and their legs wobbling like jelly. They are struck several times to “encourage” them. It is harrowing to watch.
Donkeys are beautiful animals up close, more rounded in the face than horses and with large ears. But these ones are malnourished and in clear distress. Burst blood vessels, skin tumours and teeth, foot and eye injuries are all common as is tetanus, which if left untreated causes an agonisingly slow death.
“It is a horrible, stressful life for them,” says Dr Amadou Doumbia, the Mali director of SPANA.
Young children often drive the donkey carts in order to survive (Image: Dylan Thomas)
His small but dedicated veterinary team of four offer the only respite for the animals at Bamako’s tips. “About 65 percent of working donkeys have stomach problems and there is no reason for this to happen so we know stress plays a big role,” he says.
The team cleans wounds, gives vaccinations, replaces worn-out saddles and offers advice on animal care. The staff are kind but stern, chastising those who whip the donkeys and fail to treat their sores. Sadly not everyone listens, or cares.
“They try to motivate them,” Amadou explains of the repeated beatings donkeys face. “The mentality of the people is different. There are lots of seasonal workers who come from the city to the village so there are many new people.”
Amadou stops mid-flow to wrestle a stick out of the hands of a man he has just seen whipping a badly wheezing donkey on the verge of collapse. It is the only time this genial giant, who towers above everyone at 6ft 5in, displays his authority.
He animatedly berates the sheepish worker for several minutes, explaining how the rope’s pressure is too tight on the neck and is suffocating his animal.
The man is eventually allowed to continue to the top where a small crowd hovers around SPANA’s vet and three technical assistants. They are busy treating eye infections and open wounds from rubbing straps. They will see about 150 donkeys today out of the 600 that work at this tip – one third have some kind of injury.
Temperatures average 40C throughout the year in Bamako, Mali (Image: Dylan Thomas)
Since SPANA began working here 23 years ago, the charity has managed to outlaw some of the worst practices – including owners who used to tilt the carts backwards leaving dangling donkeys choking in the air. But this still happens as some of the other large landfill sites in Bamako.
Thanks to the charity, the average lifespan of a dumpster donkey has soared from six months to six years – but it is still far off the average 25 to 30 years a donkey can expect to reach in the wild.
The animals must now take mandatory breaks every afternoon to rest, eat and water. Workers are advised to change a donkey’s harness every month to prevent suffering.
Boubatar Danioko, 30, is one person seeking help today. The father of one has been working the rubbish run for seven years after moving from the south of Mali to Bamako to earn a living.
He now owns four donkeys and two carts, working six hours in the hot sun every day.
Through Amadou’s translation, he tells me: “The donkeys are the only means of work for me so I look at them as a precious friend.”
Dr Amadou Doumbia, SPANA Mali Country Director (Image: Dylan Thomas)
His newest donkey, bought just over two weeks ago, is already developing a nose injury due to an ill-fitting harness. The hair has rubbed off, the skin is on the verge of breaking. “I understand I need to do something,” he says, smiling, telling Amadou he will find something less traumatic for the nose.
He admits he is worried about the cost of replacing the harness every month. Each one costs £10, a fifth of workers’ wages. Not surprisingly, Boubatar prays his baby son, one, never has to do this job. He hopes he will become a doctor.
Salif Coulibaly, 27, is another dump operator. He never went to school and began working with cows at the age of seven.
SPANA treated his donkey for a ligament issue over three months last year at its veterinary centre. “I’d never have been able to treat it myself as it is so expensive,” Salif explains.
The charity says about 10 donkeys a month collapse as a result of the harrowing conditions, mainly due to the heavy loads but also because of underfeeding or digestive issues.
Many donkeys are so desperate to fill their aching bellies they resort to eating whatever they can find. There are many cases of plastic bags ending up in stomachs and intestines. Ideally Amadou would like the entire system to end but it is not likely. “If it were to stop, I would be so happy,” he says.
“But it is very costly to collect the rubbish, people would need to pay that. Until donkeys disappear, I do not see another solution to this problem.”
To make a donation to SPANA or learn more about their work in countries like Mali, visit spana.org