As the sun dipped below the horizon, I was not prepared for the unusual encounter I would have on this particular run. It was officially my last summer run in Chios, Greece, the island my grandparents are from. Chios was my sanctuary, far from school, noise, and the endless ping of phone notifications. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple pleasures this island has to offer me every summer since I was a child—embracing tranquility, spending time with family, attending village festivals like Panagiria, and taking part in local traditions.
In the distance, I saw a shaggy gray donkey standing alone in a field of mastic trees. The woven basket slung over her back held bundles of herbs and bags of white sap. Her eyes were framed with ridiculously long lashes, and I wasn’t sure what to do when she began to curl her lips to expose her teeth in a big smile. Only later did I learn this was how donkeys improve their sense of smell. She had been left with nothing but a bucket of water, tied to a lonesome mastic tree by a single ragged rope. Who had left her there? Why was she alone? I was desperate to know her story and how I could help. Determined to keep her company, I ran back home to bring a bucket of grass and berries.
The donkey enjoyed her treats in the shade as I rambled on about my summer and my excitement for the upcoming school year and all the challenges it would bring. As we sat together taking in the setting sun, a male voice rang from a distance. It belonged to the owner of my newfound donkey friend, Persephone. I smiled—Persephone was the name of my childhood imaginary friend and the goddess of Spring. I knew our friendship was meant to be.
As I began talking with this kind, white-haired man dressed in dusty jeans, a ragged green shirt, and a captain’s hat, I learned Persephone was far from lonely. She was part of a team of mastic resin collectors, just beginning the harvest season. Persephone helped transport harvesters, tools for cutting the bark (kentiri), and now the bounty. Mastic trees—ancient, knotted, and wind-swept—produced the white resin I had seen Persephone carrying. Seeing it in practice, I remembered the centuries-old tradition I had once learned about as a child visiting the Mastic Museum. Mastic was native to Chios, valued for its role in digestive health, Mediterranean recipes, and local liquors. As I concluded my conversation with the kind old man, I gave Persephone one last stroke as I gazed at her with appreciation. I had kept her company as she rested, and she had helped me realize an important lesson. As I bounded back home, I felt a smile spreading across my face, knowing she was a cherished member of a hardworking community. Her purpose had a ripple effect across time, countries, and industries like medicine, aromatics, skincare, culinary, and more. Her efforts were celebrated with music and dance. Her purpose reached beyond herself, serving as a reminder that sometimes, the smallest contributors make the most meaningful impact
My run carried more than sweat and memories—it left me with a deeper understanding of my roots, my values, and my role.
To this day, a donkey statue sits on my desk, reminding me of this memorable encounter. Persephone taught me to give back to my community with humility, to respect each member of a team, and to love animals. These lessons are now woven into the fabric of who I am.
The views and opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect nor represent the Earth Chronicles and its editorial board.
